Other Fetishes

Tattoos do seem to be popular with younger females today though.

Oh, thanks for the pickup, missed that when posting. I5 has now been updated the last half of the chapter enhanced. Diane is signalling her intent, the question is will Ivy pick up on it or not? Thankyou. 

*was currently waiting at the snow area when I saw kara arrive* "there ya are lil one everything ok?"

Oliver doesn’t everytime he fight back he looses more ! He only a step away from diapers full time ! And wearing clothes to help sagging diaper like onesies ! And in the outside wearing toddler leash if he tries to escape this treatment 

Part 11 Besty pulled out the ladder game, eager to play. As we sat across from each other, I couldn’t help but be distracted—there she was, completely unclothed. At first, it caught me off guard, but then I remembered that we often take baths together, so it wasn’t entirely unusual. Still, my focus was off, and it showed—Besty was beating me again. Just then, her mom walked in and said, Besty, hop up on the changing table so I can get a diaper on you before there's an accident. As her mom gathered the necessary supplies, Betsy lay on the table with her legs apart, ready for her mom to begin. Before getting started, her mom looked over at me and said, pay attention to what I’m doing—you might need to do this for Betsy someday. I watched her closely, observing every step she took. First, she gently guided Besty to bring her knees up to her chest. She explained that it's always important to place a diaper underneath Besty's bottom before anything else—just in case she starts to pee. That way, if she does, you can quickly fold the front of the diaper up to catch it. Next, she showed me how to apply the diaper rash cream: where to put it, how much to use, and how to gently rub it in. She also demonstrated how to use baby powder, emphasizing the importance of rubbing it in thoroughly to avoid clumping and ensure comfort. For the next show-and-tell, after pulling the front of the diaper up through Betsy's legs, she gave me a solemn look and said, What I’m about to show you will make or break you as a good diaper changer. Then, with deliberate care, she plucked two diaper pins from a nearby bar of soap. You always stick the pins into the soap first, she explained. The soap helps the pins glide smoothly through the cloth, so you don’t tug or tear. The next thing she showed me was how to put the diaper on. She demonstrated by grabbing the left side of the diaper, placing it across Betsy's stomach, and then pulling the front of the diaper over to pin it to the left side. As she walked me through the steps, she said, “This next part is the most important when pinning a diaper on someone: always keep your hand between the baby’s skin and the cloth. That way, if the pin slips, you’ll poke your own hand—not the baby.” She then moved on to the right side of the diaper, securing it carefully. Once she was finished, she explained how to check whether the diaper was too tight around the waist and leg openings. Afterward, we looked over at Betsy and noticed she had a sad expression. Her mom asked what was wrong, and Betsy replied, I’m not a baby. Her mom smiled warmly and said, Sweetheart, even when you don’t need diapers anymore, you’ll always be my baby. Then she surprised me by unfastening the diaper pins and folding down the front of the diaper onto the table, then the sides. “Let’s see if you can pin it on correctly,” she said with a playful challenge in her voice. I’ll be honest—I was nervous. The last thing I wanted was to accidentally poke Betsy with a pin. Judging by the look on her face, she seemed just as unsure. I took my time, gently pulling the diaper through Betsy’s legs, trying to mimic the way her mom did it. When I picked up the left side and laid it across her stomach, I hesitated. It felt strange to touch her like that. I mean, sure—we still take baths together sometimes—but this felt different. More grown-up. More real. I took a deep breath and gently pulled the front and left side of the diaper together, my hand resting softly on Betsy's belly. That part went surprisingly well—almost suspiciously so. But the moment I reached for the diaper pin, everything fell apart. As I pushed it through the fabric, a sudden sting shot through my finger, and I yanked my hand back on instinct. A tiny bead of blood welled up where the pin had betrayed me. Betsy and her mom burst into laughter, offering not a shred of sympathy. I was left nursing both my pride—and my finger—as they giggled mercilessly. After five clumsy attempts, her mom finally gave a nod of approval, satisfied with how I’d secured the diaper pins. Next came the real test: evaluating how well I’d put the diaper on. Her mom instructed me to run my hands around Betsy’s stomach and leg openings to assess the fit. As I traced around her waist, I felt confident—I thought I’d done a great job. But when it came to checking around her legs, I hesitated. I was a little shy, unsure if I should proceed. Her mom noticed and gently reminded me; That’s part of the job. I glanced at Betsy, whose cheeks had turned a shade of red. Wanting to get it over with quickly, I ran my hands around her leg openings in one swift motion. I told her mom I thought the fit was good. She inspected my work and gave me a passing grade, noting that the only improvement would be tightening the diaper slightly around the legs. Then came the final step: slipping on the plastic pants. I reached over to grab a pair, and when I turned back, Betsy had already lifted her legs, waiting patiently for me to slide them on. Once they were in place, her mom gently helped her to her feet and guided me to check the waistband and leg openings, making sure the diaper was neatly tucked inside. Just as I finished, a familiar voice rang out. What a great job you did, son. I spun around—and there she was. My mom, standing in the doorway, pride written all over her face.