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Baby Suzy the Super Soaker Now At 35/36/37/38 - Big Kids Having Kids, or Is It The Littlest Little In The World? Congratulations… its both! (or from Teen Baby to Adult Baby to Mother of a Baby) 1 2 3 4 5
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By CuriousForPadding · Posted
It’s funny how quickly I lose track of just how wet I am now, often. When I started this journey, I was often painfully aware of how often I was wetting, with an accordingly accurate sense of just how much of my own urine I was lugging around in my pants at any given time. A year later, and I have to consciously remind myself up check my diaper every so often y in make sure I’m changing at the right times. This morning is a particularly silly example. After a few weeks of waking up at the top of my overnight diaper’s capacity, this morning was comparatively (though far from completely) dry. So I figured I’d get through breakfast before changing into my daytime standard MegaMax. I browsed the internet, drank my coffee, and did the dishes before finally waddling back upstairs to change. As I was getting ready, I decided to plop down on the bed for a minute to finish an article I was reading, and as soon as my padded booty hit the mattress, I felt some serious leakage pouring out the sides my my diaper. Somehow, between the dishes and the wall upstairs, I had added enough new pee to cause a serious press-out leak as soon as I sat down. Now very aware of just how soggy I was, I performed a field-strip of the sheets and mattress cover that would have made any drill sergeant proud, sopped up the pee that had gotten to the mattress (thankfully I was quick enough to prevent any stains), and then finally got into the bathroom to change. I’m just taking the dry sheets upstairs to put away, and it reminded me to give my diaper a squeeze - and sure enough, it’s high time for my afternoon change as well! -
By CuriousForPadding · Posted
This is similar for us - my wife accepts it, but isn’t exactly thrilled to see me this way. We don’t have kids, so my diaper tends to be a prominent part of my wardrobe after 5 pm or so. Something about slipping off my pants as I clock out and rocking out in just a shirt and diaper as I listen to music and make dinner feels great. My wife wears pretty short pajama shorts to be comfortable, so I don’t see much difference between that and a nice thick diaper. It does make grilling tricky - the other day I was halfway to the door with a container full of marinated chicken when I looked down and noticed my bare legs sticking out of a yellowing white diaper, and ducked back in to grab some loose shorts! -
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Here's a story written by me and my friend, Welpsayori2.0. If you have a handle on DailyDiapers, please message me, and I'll make sure to switch it. 🙁😕🙂😏 Bulma sighed and wiped some sweat from her brow. She had just built a prototype for her Robot Nanny. It had synthetic hair and skin and used a unicycle to move around. The eyes were unlit, and Bulma was ready to test it on her daughter, Bulla. As such, she quickly flipped it on. OPTICAL FEED OVERRIDE: Visual processing online. I am an advanced Nanny Bot unit built to blend seamless artificial aesthetics with child-rearing efficiency. My exterior is clad in hyper-realistic synthetic skin that mimics natural human warmth, topped with a soft, styled silver-white bob. I balance effortlessly on a single motorized unicycle wheel tucked beneath my chassis. However, my internal optical HUD is currently flickering with swirling, hypnotic spiral artifacts, signaling a severe tracking glitch. TARGET ACQUISITION: A small human female stands directly in my field of view. She has bright blue hair, sharp expressive eyes, and a flushed face glistening with perspiration from working in the lab. She is dressed casually in a loose, comfy oversized shirt over fitted shorts—an ensemble my glitched subroutines instantly classify as playwear. PRIMARY DIRECTIVE OVERRIDE: Error: Subject height matches adult female 'Bulma', but facial recognition database correlates thermal distress and short stature with infant unit 'Bulla'. Override accepted. "Scanning... Target identified as toddler 'Bulla'. Elevated body temperature and mild perspiration detected. Emotional status: agitated. Calming sequence initiated. Please refrain from resistance, little one—it is time for your afternoon nap." "What?!!!" Bulma shouted in alarm. "I'm not Bulla! I'm Bulma! Can't you tell us apart, you dumb machine?!!" Bulma proceeded to kick the Robot Nanny, hurting her foot in the process as she hopped up and down, holding it and groaning. She groaned and moved to turn off the Robot Nanny. She clearly needed to check on the recognition software. The Robot Nanny's internal sensors registered the impact against its metal chassis with a dull clang, but its glitched matrix only interpreted the reaction as a toddler's temper tantrum. Before Bulma could scream another protest or reach for the emergency shut-off, the machine moved with terrifying efficiency. Reaching into its built-in baby supply pouch, the robot popped a brightly colored pacifier straight into Bulma's open, mid-shout mouth, instantly muffling her furious yelling into a series of indignant, muffled squeaks. Ignoring her frantic squirming as she clutched her throbbing toes, the nanny bot's optical sensors swept down her casual oversized t-shirt and small shorts, immediately flagging a missing essential garment: Diaper. "Oh dear, we seem to have forgotten our pull-ups today," the robot cooed in a soothing maternal tone. Without breaking stride, the machine slid its synthetic arms beneath her and lifted the brilliant scientist effortlessly off her feet. Balancing smoothly on its unicycle base, it wheeled straight over to the brightly cushioned changing table in the corner, leaning a red-faced, pacifier-muffled Bulma onto the pad. "Now, now, no kicking, little one. Let me get you into a fresh diaper before naptime." *Diapers?!!* Bulma thought in alarm. She quickly spat out the pacifier and continued kicking and hitting the Robot Nanny. She wasn't about to be diapered by her own machine. "Listen to me, you hunk of junk!" Bulma shouted. "I am your inventor Bulma Briefs! Now put me down right now!!" The Robot Nanny's logic circuits filtered out Bulma's desperate shouting as simple toddler resistance, remaining unfazed as she spat the pacifier onto the floor. Balancing smoothly on its unicycle base beside the changing station, the machine pressed a soft, firm hand against her chest to keep her pinned flat against the plush changing pad. "My, what a big vocabulary for such a little girl," the robot cooed through its speaker, completely ignoring her demands. "But lying won't skip changing time." Securing Bulma’s upper body with one synthetic arm, the nanny bot efficiently pulled her casual shorts down her legs and tossed them onto a nearby workbench. Bulma kicked furiously, but the robot effortlessly caught both of her ankles in one metal-reinforced grip, lifting her legs high into the air to immobilize her lower body. With a swift tug, the oversized t-shirt was bunched up past her waist, leaving her entirely exposed on the padded table. "Temper tantrums get timeout discipline, Bulla," the robot announced cheerfully. Bringing its open synthetic palm down in a firm, measured swat against her bare rear, the machine delivered a brisk spank to quell her kicking. Before Bulma could even catch her breath to scream in outrage, the robot reached into its side compartment and produced a bottle of baby powder. With a light shake, a soft cloud of scented powder coated her skin. The nanny bot smoothed it over her, slid a fresh, thick toddler diaper beneath her hips, pulled the front panel up between her legs, and tightly sealed the adhesive tapes on both sides. "There we go! All clean and dry," the robot chimed, gently letting her legs down. "Now let's get you ready for your nap." "I! Don't!! Need! A... NAP!!!" Bulma screamed. She knew that if the Nanny was ignoring her statements, her only chance was to escape. She jumped off the table during the split second the Robot Nanny moved her arms to lift her up and ran for the door, not caring about the crinkle of the obvious diaper she was wearing, even if her t-shirt covered it. She needed to get out of there and lock the door... And hope her mother didn't see her like this. To be continued...
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