![[DD] Boards & Chat](https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/uploads/monthly_2021_11/DDweb-02.png.0c06f38ea7c6e581d61ce22dffdea106.png)
 |
Sissy Room
633 topics in this forum
-
- 0 replies
- 12k views
-
- 215 replies
- 46k views
-
- 3 replies
- 149 views
-
- 11 replies
- 426 views
-
- 7 replies
- 494 views
-
- 1 reply
- 280 views
-
- 12 replies
- 769 views
-
- 2 replies
- 242 views
-
- 12 replies
- 3.1k views
-
- 2 replies
- 260 views
-
- 13 replies
- 3.1k views
-
- 21 replies
- 7.2k views
-
- 8 replies
- 4k views
-
- 18 replies
- 1.1k views
-
- 19 replies
- 1.6k views
-
- 3 replies
- 1.5k views
-
- 4 replies
- 498 views
-
- 18 replies
- 1.5k views
-
- 26 replies
- 9.6k views
-
- 7 replies
- 1.7k views
-
- 55 replies
- 6.6k views
-
- 65 replies
- 20.9k views
-
- 26 replies
- 2.6k views
-
- 27 replies
- 3.3k views
-
- 19 replies
- 8.1k views
-
Current Donation Goals
-
-
Posts
-
By DiaperedDarkElf · Posted
Listening to New Orleans music all day! I wonder if anyone has ever dressed up as an adult baby during this time in those massive costume parties you see in the streets where the costumes get wild. Even like an implied "little" look without being over the top. Anyways Happy Mardi Gras everyone! -
Part 45 I spent another twenty minutes focused on my house plans, occasionally glancing over at Besty. She was completely absorbed in her schoolwork, her pencil moving steadily across the page. Not once did she seem to notice—or care—about the shape of her diaper. Her focus was impressive: calm, confident, and entirely at ease. Eventually, I walked over and gently helped her to stand. “Turn around for me,” I said softly. She did, and I carefully pulled back the waistband of her plastic pants to check. It was clear she’d made quite a mess. I nodded to myself, mentally preparing for what was ahead. Without hesitation, I picked her up, settling her comfortably on my right arm. She rested against me calmly, her body relaxed, her trust evident. I wasn’t too worried about making the mess worse—she’d been sitting in it for a while already. What mattered more was making sure she felt safe and cared for. Since it was her first messy diaper change with me, I decided to do it inside the cabin rather than out on the grass. I wanted the space to feel familiar and private—somewhere she could feel comfortable and supported. As I carried her toward the changing table, I could sense the quiet rhythm we were building together. It wasn’t just about routines—it was about trust, and the small ways we showed up for each other. I smiled at her and said playfully, “Let’s go see what kind of present you left me in that diaper. Just think—this is the first one you made for me.” She buried her head into my shoulder, her cheeks turning a soft pink. But she didn’t say a word—just nestled in close, trusting and quiet. Her silence wasn’t shy; it was peaceful, like she knew she was safe. After laying her down on the changing table, I stepped away briefly to grab a couple more washcloths. One wouldn’t be enough for the cleanup ahead, and I wanted to make sure I had everything ready to take care of her properly. When I returned, I paused at the doorway. Besty was lying there, thumb in her mouth, quietly sucking with a soft smile on her face. Her eyes were half-lidded, her body relaxed, and the moment felt almost timeless. I smiled back, treating it like the most natural thing in the world. It was sweet—comforting, even—to see her so at ease. Still, I made a quiet mental note: I’d need to ask her about the thumb-sucking soon. Was it an old habit resurfacing, a soothing mechanism she turned to when overwhelmed, or something entirely new? Whatever the reason, I wanted to understand it—not to correct or judge, but to know what it meant for her. For now, though, I let her stay in her little bubble of comfort, thumb nestled gently between her lips, eyes half-lidded in contentment. I reached down and gently lifted Besty’s feet, careful not to disturb her peaceful state. The crinkle of her plastic pants was familiar, almost rhythmic, as I slid my fingers beneath the elastic waistband. As I began to ease them down, a stronger scent wafted up—earthy and unmistakable. It was a clear sign that a full change was in order. I didn’t flinch or rush. Instead, I stayed calm and deliberate, wanting her to feel safe, cared for, and unbothered by the process. Once the plastic pants were off, I saw that a bit of the mess had seeped through—just enough to warrant a wash. I folded them neatly and set them aside, mentally adding them to the laundry list. It wasn’t a hassle, just another part of the rhythm we’d settled into. What mattered most wasn’t the cleanup—it was making sure Besty felt clean, secure, and loved. Every step, every gentle wipe, every reassuring word was part of that promise. Now came the moment of truth—time to see just how big a “present” Besty had left for me. I gently unpinned each side of her diaper, the soft click of the safety pins sounding almost ceremonial. As I peeled back the front, I glanced at her face. She was still sucking her thumb, eyes dreamy and content, her quiet smile untouched by the task at hand. That little gesture—so innocent, so self-soothing—made me want to handle everything with even more tenderness. The diaper unfolded slowly, revealing a mess that would need a bit of extra attention. No surprise there. I’d come prepared, both mentally and physically, to make sure she felt clean, refreshed, and cared for—no matter what. This wasn’t just about hygiene; it was about trust, comfort, and making her feel safe in her own skin. I paused for a moment, mentally flipping through the advice Besty’s mom had given me. It came back in pieces, like a well-worn manual: start by using the top edge of the diaper to gently wipe away the bulk of the mess. Always work from top to bottom—especially with girls—to prevent anything from spreading where it shouldn’t. It was practical wisdom, but it carried a quiet weight. These small steps were part of a larger rhythm, one that spoke of patience, gentleness, and respect. The advice had been simple, but it stuck with me—and I was determined to follow it to the letter. Besty deserved nothing less than to feel clean, safe, and completely at ease. Every step of this process was a quiet promise to her: I’ve got you. The front of the diaper had only done so much, so I reached for a warm, damp washcloth and began the careful work of cleaning her up. The mess was more than I’d anticipated, and it took time—more than I’d expected—but I didn’t rush. I moved slowly, gently, making sure each pass of the cloth was soothing rather than startling. Besty stayed relaxed, thumb still in her mouth, her trust in me unshaken. When I turned her slightly to clean her bottom, I noticed the ointment I’d applied earlier had clung stubbornly between her cheeks. I must’ve been a little too generous with it that morning. It made the cleanup a bit more involved, but I didn’t mind. I took my time, making sure every crease and curve was tended to with care. By the end, she was fresh, dry, and comfortable again—exactly as she should be. After I finished cleaning her up, I gently slid the soiled diaper out from beneath her and placed it at the end of the table, careful not to disrupt the calm we’d created. Then I reached for a fresh, clean diaper—soft, powder-scented, and neatly folded—and began the familiar process of securing it around her. Each motion was deliberate, tender, a quiet reassurance that she was safe and cared for. Once she was all set, I lifted her into my arms and carried her back outside. The late afternoon light bathed the deck in a warm glow, and we settled into our usual spot, surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant hum of birdsong. Besty nestled against me, thumb in her mouth, her gaze drifting lazily across the yard. It was peaceful—almost perfect. But a small thought tugged at me, persistent and vague. Something felt unfinished. Then it clicked. I stood up, headed back inside, and retrieved the soiled diaper from the table. It was a simple oversight, but one I didn’t want to leave lingering. I took it to the bathroom and rinsed it out in the toilet, watching the water swirl away the remnants of the day’s earlier mess. Once it was clean enough to toss in the laundry bin, I returned to the deck, feeling more settled. Later, after we wrapped up our quiet projects—some coloring, a few stories, and a shared snack—we decided to go for a hike. The trail behind the house was shaded and familiar, winding through tall pines and soft underbrush. Knowing we’d be out until dusk, I dressed Besty in a pair of soft shorts and packed everything we’d need: snacks, water bottles, wipes, and a full change for her. That bit of foresight turned out to be a blessing. Midway through the hike, we found a quiet clearing just off the path. I laid out a blanket and got to work. Besty stayed relaxed and cheerful, her thumb back in her mouth, eyes half-lidded with contentment. As I changed her, she gazed up at the canopy of trees, the dappled sunlight dancing across her face. It was a small, sweet moment—one of many that made the day feel quietly magical. We continued our hike without missing a beat. The rest of the afternoon unfolded in a rhythm of laughter, fresh air, and the kind of peaceful moments that linger long after the day ends. By the time we returned home, the sky had deepened into twilight. It was late, and bedtime beckoned. The evening followed our comforting routine: a warm bath and a fresh nighttime diaper.. I tucked her in gently, smoothing the blanket around her and brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. Her thumb found its way back to her mouth, and within moments, she was drifting off—safe, clean, and deeply loved. -
By Baby-Dolly Selina · Posted
Camille did as she was told, and as she felt the strap on entering her butthole she gave off a little squeaking sound Y you're going to fuck me mommy Natasha? What if mommy Marianne comes home and sees us? You know she don't work late today right? -
I mean this makes sense, what I don’t understand though, is why are baby diapers getting smaller, not bigger? I have a stash of baby diapers ranging from pampers, luvs and Huggies in the mid 90’s all the way up to most of the size 8’s currently on the market. Size 6 Luvs from late 90’s early 2000’s (Barney and blue’s clues) are bigger than size 8 Luvs. Same is true with Pampers and Huggies. -
By Little Giammy · Posted
"Now lower yourself! Gently, or it will hurt," Natascia commanded after applying lubricant between the girl's cheeks and inside her anus. Since it was the girl's first experience with anal sex, Natascia had opted for a strap-on that was as wide as a finger to ensure the girl wouldn't be hurt. She knew it would still be enough to bring her to climax. Natasha placed her hands beneath Camille's buttocks, guiding her movements to prevent any chance of falling and injuring herself.
-
-
