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2011
2011 Survey Questions
11 topics in this forum
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In A Word... 1 2 3 4
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Posts
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By pamper4014 · Posted
One girl is waiting for the potty and doing the dance with her hands between her legs. I watch and enjoy the show. I go to her and ask her if we can have a coffee together. She breaks away to get coffee ☕. When I hand her coffee I hear her saying "oh no". She was having a accident in her pants. You can see part of the diaper above the pink pants. -
That was a good addition. Preachy? I didn't think so. It was a doctor giving her clients straight talk about problems you can have with medical play. As always, thanks for sharing. -
By Personalias · Posted
Mini-Story: Damned Cute “I curse you! I curse you with cuteness!” You giggle at the crazy old lady on the corner pointing at you. You don’t point and laugh. You just snicker behind your hand and keep walking. You weren’t trying to agitate the old bat; you just didn’t have time to listen to her ramblings when the crosswalk blinkered on. The poor old gal was probably homeless and/or needed meds that she wasn’t getting. Or maybe she was just being cheeky. You’d been cursed at and spit at by random strangers with too much time on their hands before; just not literally ‘cursed’. Being cursed with cuteness was certainly preferable to being condemned to the burning pits of Hell which according to the guy with the sandwich board and the giant cross about five blocks back you most certainly are. You laugh again, but the thought is out of your brain and memory as soon as you cross three more blocks. Until… You’re almost to where you’re going. At the final crosswalk and then you’ll be where you need to be. “Hey there, cutie,” a voice catches your ear. You turn to look, not because you’re cute, but because you thought you were the only one standing on this particular street corner. “Where are you going?” Standing right next to you is an absolutely beautiful stranger. Your mouth hangs open. You look behind yourself, seeing if there was some other ‘cutie’ right behind you. There isn’t. The crosswalk blinks again and the orange hand telling you to halt is replaced by the bright white walking fellow. You find your fingers suddenly entwined with the stranger’s. “Come on!” they chirp, as if grabbing you out of nowhere is. “Let’s cross the street together. Hold my hand so you don’t get lost.” Stunned and flabbergasted, you’re three steps into the middle of the road, holding hands like a toddler, before you realize what’s happened. You’re five steps in before your ears detect a not so subtle crinkle coming from your pants. “Hey! Let go of me!” You object once you’ve finally found your voice. Problem being those are the words that come out of your mouth. What comes out, spelled phonetically is closer to, “Bababa guh-guh-gah!” This time you do not giggle behind your hand; you gasp and audibly slap yourself in the face with it to silence the nonsense trickling out of you! You finish crossing the street, and the stranger picks you up, and sets you on their hip. “Awwww! Still learning to talk?” They coo at you. “How precious! So cute!” You look down at yourself. Your clothes have melted away. You’re not naked, but the fuzzy yellow footie pajamas you’re suddenly coated in make you feel that way. Jammies in the middle of the day in a public place? On anyone else it would look ridiculous. On you? It looks cute. Before you know it, you realize that the stranger is still carrying you; walking right past where you’d been headed and still going. “Lost your Mommy or Daddy, cutie? Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” You struggle when you realize what’s being implied, but it doesn’t get you any freer. You call out for help, but only babbling notes hit the air. Passers by turn their heads in concern, but as soon as they lay eyes on you, their worries turn to smiles and they wave at you instead. You’re being kidnapped, but to them, you’re just an innocent little cutie pie getting squirmy. “So cute!” “Such a cutie!” “Reminds me of mine at that age! So cute!” Out of nowhere, your kidnapper finds you a stroller and plops you in. You fit! “Here, this will be better.” Better for whom though? You fight against the buckles and harness, but the release mechanisms won’t budge for you. With enough time, panic turns into a parade of humiliation. Every person you pass seems unconcerned with your plight, some even stopping long enough to pinch your cheeks. “What a cute lil’ stinker!” Stinker is unfortunately a prudent choice of words. Your stomach rumbles. Then cramps. The clothes you put on this morning have left you, but not the coffee you had to wake up. And that’s not underwear bulging out from beneath your far too cute and comfy jammies isn’t actually underwear. You grit your teeth, and curl your toes in your stroller. You don’t want to, but you find yourself pushing up, boosting your bottom out of the umbrella stroller’s canvas-like hammock on instinct and discomfort. Then gravity and muscle take over. Your sphincter contracts. Your cheeks spread. You growl and grunt involuntarily, the pain inside your body lessening while your skin crawls as the solid mass turns to mush once it finds the far back end of your padding with more pushing to go. Tears leak out of your eyes and you whimper as the job finishes itself. You sigh involuntarily as your legs buckle again and your full weight finally settles down into your own mess and spreads around the back of your diaper. You feel disgusting and helpless and angry, but that doesn’t change how you look. Even shitting yourself and sitting in your own mess, you are still damned cute. Scream, kick, bite, piss, shit, scowl. It’s all cute. Damned cute. “Don’t worry cutie,” your abductor assures you. “We’re almost home. We’ll change your diaper after. You’re going to love your nursery! We’ve got so many outfits to try on, too! I can’t wait! I’m so glad that old lady told me about you!” Yeah. “Damned cute” is right… (Fin) -
Lisa: yes daddy me having fun Mom: when your sisters swing stop i get her out and check her diaper -
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