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Diaper References
Diaper/wetting references found in movies and on TV
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Posts
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By Little_Mouse · Posted
I was also active on ABDLScandinavia and ADISC in the past. But since I returned in 2019, DD has been my preferred ABDL forum – and the only one I use now. DD has become Little_Mouse’s home on the web 😊 -
Just an information perhaps to get you more prepared or to find a different solution to the (medical) problem. A Video-Urodynamic in Germany costs about 1000-1500 Euro if your are a "private" patient, aka paying yourself, my insurance covers it, but i have to wait six month for an appointment. When you are paying yourself, you can get an appointment much faster. Just saying, come to Germany, get one, fly back - maybe still cheaper than in the US. In my experience medical procedures are about 1o times more expensive in the US than in the EU. For me your problems sound like an overactive, small Bladder, which is compansated through your PelvicFloor to prevent voiding/incontinence, a cramping pelvic floor can be very, very painful, i had it long enough and FunFact: Wearing diapers was my solution to this and it worked and got approved from my PV specialist and Urologist. I just have to avoid the cramping before the PV gets to tight. Usually doctors do not look for a cramped PV in men, this is considered a "womens problem". But it happens, like in my case. Maybe have a look into this. -
By Little_Mouse · Posted
Libero Sleep Tight pull-up diaper, size 10 (35–60 kg). I’m already on my second one today. Maybe I should just stick to adult-sized slip tape diapers for the rest of the day. My bladder seems to be quite busy at the moment. 😂 -
By BottomBoiCorey · Posted
Hello Everyone, I hope you enjoy this story, my first real attempt at an ABDL Cuck story (with elements of other kinks as well such as: Chastity, SPH, and more!) Please read the first chapter and let me know what you think! From Boss to Baby Chapter 1: The Weight of Small Things The alarm on Ryan's phone was a gentle, chime-like sound, but it shattered the fragile peace of the bedroom with the violence of a dropped plate. He jolted awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. For a disorienting second, he was lost in the dark, the familiar shapes of the dresser and the yoga mat propped against the wall resolving slowly into meaning. Then the other feeling came, the one that was always waiting for him in the quiet moments: a deep, hollow ache of inadequacy, centered low in his gut. He was already hard. A thin, pathetic morning erection tented the soft cotton of his white briefs. He hated this most of all—the body's stupid, hopeful betrayal. He lay perfectly still, listening to Kimberly's rhythmic breathing beside him. She slept on her back, one arm flung over her forehead, her lips slightly parted. In sleep, the efficient, quietly disapproving mask of her waking hours softened. She looked younger, almost peaceful. Ryan felt a surge of love for her, immediately followed by a wave of shame so thick it choked him. She deserved a whole man. Moving with the deliberate care of a thief, he slid out from under the duvet. The cool morning air raised goosebumps on his bare arms and legs. He padded across the plush carpet, the tighty whities the only thing covering him, and slipped into the en-suite bathroom, closing the door with a soft click before turning on the light. The bathroom was Kimberly's domain, a temple of order and aggressive wellness. Everything had its place: serums lined up by potency, towels folded with military precision, a single orchid thriving on the windowsill. The shower was a glass-walled rainfall monstrosity with six different jet settings. Ryan never used the jets. He turned on the water, waiting for it to heat up, and finally shed his underwear. He avoided his reflection in the vast, fog-resistant mirror until he couldn't. Stepping under the hot spray, he let the water sluice over his head and shoulders, but his eyes were dragged downward. There it was. His micropenis. Flaccid, it was a small, wrinkled nub, barely there. Now, in its so-called erect state, it was a ridiculous pink stub, maybe two inches of taut, useless flesh. It looked like a child's, a cruel joke played by his own genetics. He soaped himself, his hand moving over the tiny shaft with a clinical detachment that did nothing to dull the humiliation. He imagined a stranger in a shower like this, water sluicing over slabs of muscle, a thick, heavy cock swinging between his thighs. The thought was so vivid, so intrusive, that Ryan's face burned under the spray. He scrubbed harder, as if he could scour the image from his mind. He dried off with one of the thick, Egyptian cotton towels, avoiding the mirror again. In the bedroom, he dressed with robotic efficiency: crisp white shirt, dark slacks, a belt buckled firmly. The tighty whities were a secret everyone could see if they looked closely enough at the line of his trousers, a childish flag of his incompleteness. He didn't hide them from Kimberly. She knew. She'd seen. It was an unspoken, accepted fact in their marriage, like the stalled renovation downstairs—a flaw acknowledged but never discussed, a foundational crack in their life together. Downstairs, the kitchen was a crime scene of his incompetence. The renovation had begun with such optimism nine months ago. They'd picked out sleek, shaker-style cabinets and a quartz countertop with delicate gray veins. Now, the room was a gutted shell. The old cabinets were a pile of splintered wood by the back door. The new ones sat in their boxes, the cardboard growing soft and discolored in the damp air. A single sheet of plywood, stained with endless circles from coffee mugs, served as a temporary counter. The sink was disconnected, its pipes gaping open like a wound. Ryan stared at it every morning, a familiar paralysis settling in his limbs. He didn't know how to plumb a sink. He was terrified of wiring the new overhead lights. The project had stalled because its completion required a kind of practical, physical confidence that had been left out of his making. Kimberly entered, a whirlwind of bright lycra and purpose. She beelined for the coffee machine, which was perched precariously on a folding table. "Late shift today. Parent-teacher conferences. Don't wait up." "Okay," Ryan said, his voice still rough from sleep. "Did you… did you see the email from that contractor? The one you forwarded?" She poured coffee into a travel mug, not looking at him. "I saw it. Did you call him?" "I… I was going to today." She finally glanced at him, her blue eyes sharp and assessing. They flicked over him, from his carefully combed hair to his polished shoes, and he felt transparent, as if she could see the tiny, shameful thing hidden beneath his clothes. She didn't say anything. She just gave a small, tight nod, the kind she gave her students when they'd failed to meet a basic expectation. Then she grabbed her bag and was gone, the front door closing with a sound of absolute finality. Ryan stood alone in the ruins of his home, the silence pressing in on him, heavy with the weight of all the things he was not. Greyson & Rourke buzzed with the low-grade anxiety of a Monday morning. Ryan's office was an interior room, a box without windows, a reward for seniority that felt more like a burial. The air was stale, tasting of recycled oxygen and the faint, sweet decay of old paper. His large, oak desk was an island of neatness in the quiet sea of the room. Behind it, his framed Bachelor's degree in Business Administration hung slightly crooked, a film of dust blurring the university crest. He buried himself in spreadsheets, losing himself in the clean logic of numbers and formulas. Here, he was competent. Here, he could pretend. At 10:15 AM, a soft knock broke his concentration. His office door was open, and a woman from HR stood there, a thin, professional smile on her face. Beside her, filling the doorway, was a man Ryan had never seen before. He wore a dark navy dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms corded with muscle and the intricate, inky tail of a tattoo that disappeared under the fabric. He was a big man, but it was a contained bigness, a density that seemed to warp the space around him. His posture was relaxed, yet he radiated an alert stillness, like a large predator pretending to be at ease. "Ryan," the HR woman said, "this is Darnell Jackson. He's starting today as the new senior analyst on the Caldwell portfolio. He'll be reporting to you." Ryan stood up, a reflexive gesture that felt awkward. "Right. Of course. Welcome, Darnell." Darnell stepped forward, his hand extended. His grip was firm, dry, and enveloping. Ryan's own hand felt small and limp in comparison. "Pleasure," Darnell said. His voice was a low baritone, smooth but with a gravelly undercurrent. His dark eyes held Ryan's for a beat too long, not challenging, but assessing. "Looking forward to getting up to speed." "Great, great," Ryan said, gesturing vaguely at the client chair. "Please, have a seat. I was just reviewing the Q3 projections." Darnell didn't take the chair. Instead, he walked around the desk, coming to stand beside Ryan, leaning in to look at the monitor. Ryan was suddenly enveloped in his presence. He smelled of clean cotton, a faint, spicy deodorant, and beneath it, something warm and fundamentally, unapologetically male—a scent of healthy sweat and solidity. It was a smell that belonged to garages and gyms, not to Ryan's world of dusty offices and quiet shame. "The Caldwell file," Darnell said, his gaze scanning the spreadsheet. His proximity was unnerving. Ryan could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I read the brief over the weekend. Noticed a potential variance in their supply-chain data from the legacy system transition." He reached past Ryan, his thick forearm brushing lightly against Ryan's sleeve. A blunt finger tapped the screen. "Right there. My gut says it's a data entry lag, not an actual cost overrun. We should filter for the old vendor codes before the eleven o'clock meeting." It was smart. Insightful. Ryan had been staring at the same numbers for an hour and had missed it entirely. A flush of professional inadequacy joined the other, more familiar humiliations simmering inside him. "Right. Yes. Good catch." Darnell straightened up but didn't move away. His gaze swept the room, lingering on the dusty degree, the neat but generic prints on the walls. "Quiet in here," he observed. His eyes, dark and too perceptive, came back to Ryan. They traveled over Ryan's face, down to his collar, the careful knot of his tie, then back up. It wasn't a sexual look; it was an appraisal, like he was sizing up a piece of equipment, determining its utility and its flaws. Ryan felt exposed under that scrutiny, as if Darnell could see through the crisp shirt to the childish briefs beneath, through the professional demeanor to the hollow shame that lived in his gut. Before he could speak, Darnell was already moving toward the door. "I'll get settled," Darnell said, pausing at the threshold. He glanced back, his expression unreadable. "Eleven o'clock. Don't be late, boss." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Oh, and Ryan? The third-floor men's room is out of order. Plumbing issue. Gotta use the one on four." Then he was gone, leaving Ryan standing behind his desk, the phantom scent of sandalwood and male sweat hanging in the air, and a cold, unfamiliar knot of something twisting in his stomach. It wasn't just shame this time. It was the shock of being seen, so quickly and so accurately, by a stranger. It was the first, faint tremor of a dangerous curiosity. -
Once again i am in for medical interest as i am looking for exact that solution but for medical reasons to solve my personal problems with bladder Dysfunction, i explained it in another thread. As far as i can tell there is no real solution available to this, as stated a Memocath stent will not be a solution for someone active like me, they well never be willing to insert one, only as last resort, my Clinic will push an Abdominal Catheter or bladder pacemaker, which both i like to avoid. I once found a special cathteter to simulate a prostate removal, it was used to determine the level of incontinence after the procedure in the patient before the operation. It cost about 100 Euro and had to be placed by an Urologist and could be used for 30 days before replacement, i can not tell for sure, but i was like what you guys call a "holy Foley"? There was only a removel line outside, the catheter was completly inside the body. If anybody knows the product, please tell me, i could not find it again.
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