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I’m from the uk as have been struggling to fined people to meet has anyone got any tips 

Hiii! Welcome!

Hi everyone, I’m based in the Mohawk Valley / Central New York area. I’m here to meet real people and build genuine connections within the ABDL community, whether that starts as friendship, conversation, or something that grows naturally over time. I’m open to being a Daddy and especially interested in connecting with a Mommy who values kindness, communication, and emotional connection. I believe the best dynamics come from getting to know each other as people first, not just jumping into roles. I’d love to chat, get to know one another, and if things feel comfortable and mutual, possibly meet up locally for something simple like coffee or a casual hangout. If you’re in the area and looking for something friendly, steady, and adult-only, feel free to reach out — I’d be happy to start a conversation.

Okay, maybe this one isn't a short story now. I was expecting one chapter for the train ride and one for the conversation; but I don't think the tale will grow much more in the telling. So… I'll expect 9-12 chapters total, making it about novella length. Does that seem reasonable? Does this chapter seem natural to you, and is this how you were expecting it to go?   Would Like to Meet “They were saying all kinds of things about you,” Imogen said slowly, setting the mug down in front of her again. “I had to defend you, because I was sure you’re a good person. But all the acronyms that came out, and the terminology. DDLG, and ABDL, and… Anyway, I couldn’t follow it, so I looked up what some of those things are. And I found… Well, first I found a bunch of sites with people trying to meet a partner, that seemed to be filled entirely with desperate guys. But then I read about what it actually is, and I…” She still choked on the word, but Dan effortlessly filled the silence. “Niche hookup sites are always like that,” he said. “The fewer people there are in a community, the more online spaces can get dominated by fantasists and the ones who never give up. Maybe there would be good people in there too, but they’re more likely to be in a stable relationship if they’ve been around a while, whereas some people will send out messages to every girl on the site.” “Yeah,” Imogen nodded again. “But apart from the dating sites, I found out what those abbreviations stand for. And I felt so…” This time, Dan didn’t answer, but looked down at the cookie he was holding like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Could she guess from that how he was feeling? Was he disgusted by the thought of those kinks that people had tried to associate him with? Or was he facing the prospect that she could be shocked by it, which could weaken their friendship whether or not he was actually into it? “How is it possible to want something so much, when I never even imagined it was a thing?” she finally got the words out. “I mean… once I knew it was a thing, I didn’t understand it at all, but I knew I won’t be able to just forget about it. And I want to know more, to actually have the experience to understand, not just reading words on a page.” She couldn’t stop now, the words came tumbling out once the dam had burst. She kept her gaze down on the table, terrified to see how Dan could be reacting, but she had to say it all once she had started. “I’m sorry. I know you said it’s just a rumour. But I’m scared to talk to people on those sites, I don’t know who I can trust, and I don’t think that can change. But I just kept on hoping, no matter what the odds are, I just kept praying, dreaming, hoping that there might be some grain of truth behind those rumours. Hoping that… that you might actually have an interest in that stuff, and that you might somehow trust me enough, that you could show me the real feelings behind the stories I skimmed. And I know it’s the first time we’ve even met, so this is way too fast, but if it’s not something you’d even consider, then I… I don’t know who else I’d ever want to ask.” Dan didn’t say anything. His hand squeezed hers gently, but there were still no words. After a long pause, Imogen managed to raise her head. She could see the concern in his eyes, but he was still smiling. She couldn’t read anything more, but she could take that as a positive sign. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I’ve not been… I spent so long thinking about what I should say, and never thought about anything like this. I just think… You’ve been so supportive, but I have to be honest. So I can tell you. Yes, as soon as I found out about that stuff, and I knew it’s what I want right away. I still didn’t know if you’d understand, if there’s any truth in those rumours, but it was so easy to imagine you as a natural daddy. So I kept on hoping. And… and…” Again, the stress swept over her, and she reached out for a raisin cookie so she would have an excuse for a few minutes of silence. “Use your words, Immy,” Dan answered, and Imogen’s heart jumped. “I promise, I’m not going to be mad.” They were a simple statement, an encouragement to continue. But more than that, the diminutive form of her name, and a phrasing she was sure she’d seen before when skimming ABDL stories online. Could it be the most subtle confirmation that he was willing to do this? “Not Immy,” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, it’s… The name has negative connotations. In my fantasies, when I tried to imagine you comforting me like this, you always called me Ginny. But thank you. You can’t imagine how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel. Being called a pet name like that, and feeling like somebody actually cares. It means a lot. Especially when…” She paused. She wanted to tell him the truth, and she knew that she would keep on feeling guilty until she could tell him all of it, but she was almost certain the big confession would cut away his sympathy. “Okay, Ginny,” he said. “It’s a nice name, and I’m sorry for jumping the gun like that. But maybe you’re a little on edge because you haven’t eaten properly, hmm? Would you like me to sort something out, so you can just think about what you’re saying? Lunch here, perhaps, or I can show you to your room?” “I… uhh… that would be good,” she answered, and then froze for a moment as a wave of laughter from the next booth rolled over them. “Somewhere… quieter? If that’s okay?” Dan nodded, and patted her hand. Then he stood and took a half step away from the booth, talking under his breath to a man in a green uniform; maybe a waiter. He lifted Imogen’s bag without asking, and reached for her hand. Her heart was racing again now; it was almost like he was playing along with all her fantasies, the ones she had never even believed could be possible. She took his hand, surprised again by how warm it was, and followed wherever he was going to lead. Imogen realised she hadn’t properly paid attention to where they were as Dan had led her in there, and glanced around now. She could see people walking along the mall’s white tiles outside glass doors which filled one wall, but the rest of the place was broken up by booths and dividers. Brightly painted wooden panels alternated with intricately carved screens, giving the impression that it was some kind of Mexican/Thai fusion restaurant, with details evocative of both cultures. The lighting was warm and amber, designed to make every corner feel intimate despite the open floor plan. She instinctively turned towards the obvious exit, but quickly turned back as Dan guided her past the main seating area, up a wide spiral staircase to a mezzanine level, and through a doorway hung with strings of tiny bells that chimed softly as they passed. The courtyard beyond was a stark contrast to the controlled climate inside, with air that was noticeably cooler, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from planters arranged around the perimeter. White stone tiles reflected the afternoon sun, but a canvas awning stretched across most of the space to create dappled shade. There were perhaps a dozen tables out here, surrounded with wrought iron seats painted sage green, but every one of them was empty. “Better?” Dan asked, leading her to a table in the far corner, tucked against a wall covered in climbing vines. The position gave them a view of the entire courtyard, so no one could approach without being seen, but the angle meant anyone passing by the entrance would only see the back of the awning. Imogen nodded and sank into the chair, feeling the rough wood of the tabletop under her fingers, and the swirls in the cold metal of the seat pressing through her skirt. The physical details and the change in temperature were helping to make everything feel more real, less like she was still lost in some kind of daydream. Dan settled across from her, somehow managing to arrange himself so he was both relaxed and attentive, and she realized the waiter from before had followed them out, already setting down glasses of water and what looked like a basket of tortilla chips with salsa. “Take your time,” Dan said quietly, pushing the water glass closer to her. “We've got all afternoon, and no one's going to interrupt us out here. You’ve been very brave admitting something so sensitive, and so easy for most people to misunderstand. I don’t know if I’d ever have the courage to come out to a friend about that, even if I suspected.” “Thank you,” Imogen stammered, not quite sure how she was supposed to respond. This whole situation was one she had played out in her imagination while she was lying in bed, so many times. But that was the problem. “So you’re…” “I’ll say that ABDL isn’t my… particular interest,” he said, and gave a little sigh. “But there’s a lot of different niches with some overlap. Sometimes I wonder if putting labels on everything just makes it harder to find someone who might satisfy your needs. I suspect we’ve got more in common with this than most people in this town, and the vast majority of those at the conference. But at the same time, I’m not sure if a friend with a compatible interest is the best recipe for a relationship. Is that something you’ve thought about?” “I’ve…” Imogen started, and stopped again. Her hope surged up, and down, and up again as he spoke. And his demeanour after she’d made that first confession was enough to convince her that whatever he was into, it was similar enough to be what she wanted even if he called it something different. “I mean I… I really have to tell you everything. But there’s bad things in there, so please, let me say it all before you judge me. And I have to say I’m sorry.” “Why sorry?” he asked, and that was the hardest question. “You were the best teacher when we started talking. But at some point I realised that it wasn’t about what you were teaching. Even if you’re talking about some technique that’s completely beyond me, or a puzzle type I don’t really enjoy, I wanted to take part when you’re leading a group chat. And then I realised, at some point, that I’m always happy talking to you, no matter what the subject is. And a day I didn’t see you felt kind of empty. It’s like… I hadn’t even looked at your lecture videos at that point, I didn’t know what you looked like, but there was some kind of attraction there. Something I couldn’t put a name on, even if I had the courage to confess it to you. And I don’t really know what to say, but I know that I want to be near you, in whatever way you’ll have me. And I do find you attractive as well, if that matters. That was before the whole ‘daddy’ thing crossed my mind, but I think in a way I could always sense some kind of paternal energy there. And then… It’s our first meeting, but I already know. I want you to be a part of my life, whatever shape that takes. And I’m hoping, what seemed like against all the odds, that we can try something. Even if it doesn’t work out. It would be easier to go back to being friends if I knew that the real world doesn’t live up to my fantasies, I think. And I know they say you should take it slow, but… But if we try to build this up slowly, see if these emotions are real, then I’d be spending years reaching for an ‘eventually’ that might not live up to my expectations. Whatever happens next, whether we carry on, or go back to square one to build a proper foundation, or if we really are better as friends, I think it would be easier knowing whether or not we’re compatible in that way. I’m sorry.” “That’s not something to be sorry for,” he said, after only a brief pause. “It’s unorthodox, certainly. Out of the ordinary. But it makes a lot of sense. So, you’d like to have a day or two trying out this dynamic, just to compare it to your imagination and the stories you’ve read online, before we make a real, emotional commitment?” “If that’s okay,” she said, and glanced down at her hands. “But that’s not what I’m saying sorry for. I really think–” She paused when a jingle and a clatter indicated that someone was coming outside. It was the waiter, pushing a trolley that didn’t quite move smoothly over the tiles. Dan must have ordered for her, before coming outside, and somehow that tiny gesture of supportive control cut through all the nervousness to turn her on again. The waiter arranged the dishes on their table with practised efficiency. He set a platter of enchiladas in front of Imogen, corn tortillas rolled tight and covered in a vibrant green sauce dotted with crema and probably-cilantro. Dan had an earthenware bowl containing what looked like a curry, containing shredded strips of meat, shrimp, and orange segments. She guessed that the sharp scent of lime and chilies was coming from her plate, cutting through a rich coconut-peanut aroma that made her think of middle-eastern influences from across the table, though she’d never tried this particular combination of cuisines before and it was possible that the types of spiciness she could smell were in just about any combination. Between them, the waiter set a wooden board with grilled peppers, charred slightly at the edges, a smaller basket of warm flour tortillas wrapped in cloth, and a dish filled with steamed rice, one half golden and the other white, and with green specks suggesting a different combination of herbs on each portion. The waiter also poured a glass of white wine for Dan, and waited a second for a nod from Imogen before pouring hers. With everything set out, he murmured something about enjoying the meal and retreated, the bells at the doorway marking his departure. “Tuck in,” Dan said, quickly unwrapping the napkin around a spoon and fork. “And I promise, I can listen and enjoy my food at the same time.” “Thanks,” Imogen answered, a little nervously. She nervously tore a piece off one of the tortillas, and rolled it between her fingers while she thought about what she’d been about to say. But the words were still there. “Anyway, I’m kind of… I mean, I need to apologise. Because I visualised a scene like this so many times. Sometimes sweet and wholesome, with you doing everything you could to make me comfortable. And sometimes, something more lewd if I can imagine you taking…” The words seemed to run out. It wasn’t uncertainty now. She knew exactly how to say what she meant, but she didn’t have the courage. And she felt guilty even for thinking of that. Instead she watched Dan’s hands as he took some rice from the middle of the table to combine with his curry. “Take advantage of you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Imogen couldn’t answer that. “I’d hope you know me well enough to know I’d never do that without prior consent.” The last two words made all the difference. Now she could be sure there was a possibility there; he was trying to make sure they were on the same page, rather than judging her perversion. “Sometimes those are the fantasies I’m craving,” she said, then paused to take a bite of her lunch. The sauce was about what she’d expect from salsa verde, tangy with just a hint of heat, but she wasn’t sure what the meat she tasted was. Had they put fish sticks in an enchilada? It sounded like such a weird idea, but it tasted good, so she decided not to judge. “I felt guilty sometimes, but it’s my own… dreams, I guess. Something to think about when I… when it feels right. That’s not essential to me, just being together is more important. But I want you to know that if you ever want to… you know… You have that consent. But that’s not… I mean… there’s still that apology I need to make properly.” “Nothing you’ve said needs an apology,” he said. “Yeah, but… I had these scenarios in my mind, and I wanted to make them happen. I spent months wondering if I could like engineer a situation where it’s natural. Put you in a place where I need protecting, see if I can bring out any paternal instincts that are there, just so I can see if that’s something you really want. I thought about all kinds of contrivances, maybe even faking a panic attack or something, being a little one who needs to be saved. In my dreams, that would have been enough to break your self control. I even considered some kind of stupid trick when I set off today, so I could give you the chance and the temptation.” This time, she really wanted to know what he was feeling. She stopped and watched him eat; an oddly reassuring experience. He took one of the roasted peppers from the middle of the table and used it to scoop up some curry sauce, then gestured with his fork to offer her one. Imogen took one, and somehow felt more confident as the sweet, smoky tang filled her mouth. Maybe some of her nervousness was from hunger after all. She swallowed another bite of the mystery enchilada, and forced herself to speak again. “Then I got here, and I couldn’t cope. I think a big part of it was guilt over all those plans. I don’t think I would ever have been able to go through with them, but I hate that I even thought like that. And when you were so supportive, I knew. Yes, I’m… attracted to you. And I want to be babied. But more than anything else, I want you to trust me. I want to spend time with you, whether that’s as a friend, a boyfriend, or a daddy. Just being there is more important than what we do with the time. And I don’t want to be the kind of person that would ever lie to you.” “You don’t need to lie,” he said, setting his spoon to one side now. “And I don’t believe you wanted to. I think… imagining scenarios like that, it’s just a kind of role play. And I’d be happy to play out the scenes you want, so long as I know you’re comfortable with it. If you want to make something up, just make it clear to me that it’s a game. And then I’ll give any role a try. Can you do that?” “Really?” she gasped, and every instinct wanted to jump over the table to hug him; restrained only by the knowledge that she didn’t have the grace or coordination to jump anywhere without sending delicious food flying. “I mean, yes. I promise. Any time you want, whenever it’s comfortable. So… you’re willing to try it?” “I want to just say yes,” he said. “It feels natural. But until you try it, you can’t be sure what you’ll enjoy. So maybe one day. An experiment, right? Trying different things, different variations, to see what works for you. And what works for me. I would very much like to have a proper conversation first, but in the moment if there’s something you want to try, you can play the role and I’ll try to react like a good daddy. In case it’s too hard to talk about any specific detail, or you don’t want to break out of the role while we’re playing. Okay?” “I can do that,” she said, and the blush spread to cover her face now. “So just… roleplay? Act the age I want you to treat me as, and you’ll try to make it work?” “If that’s easier. But if there’s anything specific you want, or on the more adult side… I think it would be best to talk first, about what works for you, and what you’re comfortable with. A little time discussing fantasies, maybe. Depending on how much you want to be surprised, and how much there are specific things you want to experience. I imagine there could be a lot of conversation there. But if it’s hard to talk about, you can show me. Whichever you are more comfortable with. But I think we should agree from the start that we’ll give this a try for one day. Okay? Let me know when you want to start, but then when the conference kicks off tomorrow afternoon, we’re both adults again. So we can talk about it, and be honest about what we felt.” Imogen nodded. She could imagine now that he had been planning this conversation in his mind for a long time. Maybe imagining her; or maybe as the things they would need to talk about if he ever met someone who wanted to be his little. But he was saying it to her, and that was the most wonderful thing she had been scared to hope for. And there was still so much to discuss, before they could be sure they were on the same page. They hadn’t really talked about whether this was a sexual thing, or innocent and wholesome, though Imogen was sure she would love it either way. She hadn’t mentioned the hypnosis thing, either. And they hadn’t talked about whether she was comfortable being gently guided, indulged, or punished if there was some fantasy scene where she couldn’t be a good girl for daddy. But despite all those things they needed to talk about, they’d crossed the most important hurdle. In a way, the rest was just fine-tuning the details. “I’ll tell you when I’m ready,” she said, and focused on dragging corn chips over the last few smears of sauce on her plate. The enchiladas had disappeared with her barely paying them any attention; and she felt a lot more confident now that she was properly fed. “And then one day of play, before we do the big conversation. That sounds perfect. Thank you, Da– Can I call you Daddy? That’s the term, right?” “I’ll be your Daddy,” he said with a smile. “And it warms my heart to hear you say that. Today and tonight, I’m your Daddy. And today you’re my baby doll. My little Ginny, who I can shower with all the love a Daddy shares. Thank you.” As soon as he said the words, it was like flipping a switch. He wasn’t Dan now, he was Daddy, the most important person in the world. Imogen felt overwhelmed again, this time by just how important it seemed to please her Daddy. And in all of her fantasies and dreams, she had never imagined that the wave of warmth and comfort rushing over her body could feel so perfect.

Staindevil2 Perhaps we could message a little? Your experiences far surpass mine and need a story rather than a simple reply. It sounds lush what you have to tell. Don’t rush it, please gather your thoughts and let it become something we can all compare with our own imaginations