Baby Talk

The birthday party had been a whirlwind of laughter, cake, and forced family photos in the living room. Emma turned 18 today, officially an adult, and the house was packed with relatives cooing over her and her two-year-old sister, Lily. Lily toddled around in her frilly dress, clutching her own presents, while Emma smiled through it all, blowing out candles and accepting hugs. But as the evening wound down and guests filtered out, Emma retreated to her bedroom upstairs, arms full of wrapped gifts with her name scrawled on the tags in her mom’s hurried handwriting. She kicked the door shut behind her, the lock clicking softly. The room was dimly lit by her bedside lamp, posters of bands and college brochures scattered on her desk—a reminder of the future waiting just beyond high school. Emma sat cross-legged on her bed in her tight jeans and cropped top, her perky C-cup breasts straining against the fabric, and began tearing into the presents. Most were normal: new clothes, gift cards, a laptop sleeve. Then she reached a larger, softer package. “Huh?” She read the tag again. To Emma, Love Mom & Dad. But inside was unmistakably Lily’s stuff. A thick package of Pampers Cruisers, size 6, the ones with the colorful cartoon characters on the waistband. Next came a bright pink MAM pacifier with a My Little Pony print on the button, complete with a matching clip. Then crinkly plastic pants in pastel pink, a fluffy teddy bear with a bow, and a tight-fitting My Little Pony t-shirt—white with Rainbow Dash printed across the chest, sized for a toddler but clearly stretched for someone bigger. Emma’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. “This is Lily’s. I should take it downstairs…” But her hands didn’t move toward the door. A strange, warm fog settled over her mind, like the world slowed down and narrowed to just these items. Her fingers trembled as she picked up the t-shirt. It was so soft, so childish. Almost hypnotically, she peeled off her own top, her bare breasts bouncing free, nipples hardening in the cool air. She tugged the My Little Pony shirt over her head. It was tight—obscenely tight—clinging to her curves like a second skin. The fabric stretched across her chest, Rainbow Dash distorted over her tits, the hem riding up to expose her flat belly and the waistband of her jeans. She looked ridiculous. She looked… perfect. Her breathing quickened. She clipped the pink MAM pacifier to the collar of the shirt, the clip dangling against her collarbone. The pacifier itself was thick, silicone, with that shiny My Little Pony button. Emma brought it to her lips. Just for a second, she told herself. The moment the bulb slipped between her lips, her eyes fluttered. She sucked. Hard. The rhythmic suck-suck-suck filled her ears as her tongue pressed against it, drool already starting to gather at the corners of her mouth. A deep, soothing calm washed over her, making her pussy tingle unexpectedly. She couldn’t stop. Emma popped the button on her jeans and shimmied them down her long, smooth legs, kicking them aside. Her panties followed, leaving her shaved mound exposed, her pink slit already glistening slightly. She tore open the package of Pampers Cruisers. The smell hit her—powdery, babyish, intoxicating. She unfolded one. It was thick, plush, with leak guards and a wetness indicator. Lying back on the bed, knees up, she slid it under her ass. The crinkle was loud as she pulled it up between her thighs, pressing the soft padding snugly against her pussy lips and asshole. She taped it tight—snug around her waist, the leg cuffs gripping her thighs, the bulky crotch forcing her legs apart. Then the plastic pants: she stepped into them, pulling the crinkly waterproof layer over the diaper, sealing everything in with a loud rustle. Fully diapered, Emma sat up on the edge of the bed, the thick padding squishing under her weight, pushing against her clit with every shift. She hugged the teddy bear to her chest, its fur tickling her nipples through the tight shirt, and sucked harder on the paci. Suck. Suck. Suck. Drool trickled down her chin, dripping onto Rainbow Dash. She felt small. Safe. Stupidly, wonderfully regressed. Grabbing the teddy, she rolled onto her tummy on the carpet, kicking her legs, the diaper crinkling loudly with every movement. Her ass, now massively padded, wiggled in the air as she played, pretending the teddy was talking to her in a baby voice. Time blurred. The urge built slowly in her bladder—a warm, insistent pressure from the soda she’d drunk at the party. Emma whimpered around the pacifier, sucking faster. She knew she should get up, go to the toilet like a big girl. But the diaper hugged her so perfectly, so invitingly. The hypnosis, or whatever it was, deepened. Why fight it? She relaxed. At first, just a tiny spurt—hot piss trickling out of her urethra and soaking into the front of the Pampers. The padding swelled immediately, turning warm and heavy against her pussy. “Mmmph…” she moaned around the paci, eyes half-lidded. Then she let go completely. A powerful, hissing stream flooded the diaper. Urine gushed out in forceful waves, soaking the absorbent core, spreading warmth all across her mound, between her labia, and back toward her asshole. The diaper expanded, sagging heavily between her legs, the plastic pants crinkling as they contained every drop. The wetness indicator faded from yellow to blue. It felt sooo good—the relief, the taboo heat enveloping her most intimate places, the squish as she instinctively humped against the soaked padding. Emma ground her hips into the carpet, the heavy, piss-filled diaper mashing against her swollen clit. Drool poured from her mouth around the My Little Pony pacifier as she suckled like a desperate baby. Her free hand reached back to pat the bulging, warm crotch, pressing the wet mess firmly against her folds. Pleasure built fast—shameful, intense. She came hard, shuddering, her pussy clenching inside the drenched diaper, juices mixing with her piss as the orgasm ripped through her 18-year-old body. Panting, sucking contentedly, she rolled onto her back, legs splayed, the massive yellowed diaper on full display under the shiny plastic pants. The teddy bear lay beside her. Downstairs, her family chatted, oblivious. Up here, Emma was lost in her new, crinkly bliss, ready to flood it again and again.   Emma drifted off on the nursery floor—wait, when had it become a nursery?—curled up in her heavy, piss-soaked Pampers, the warm mush squishing rhythmically against her shaved pussy and puckered asshole with every sleepy twitch. The My Little Pony pacifier bobbed between her full lips, drool slicking her chin and pooling on the carpet. Her tight toddler shirt clung to her sweat-damp breasts, nipples stiff and visible through the thin fabric. She woke to the soft creak of the door and her mother’s familiar voice, sweet and cooing like she was addressing Lily. “Oh, there’s my big baby girl. Did someone have a nice nappy-time after her birthday party?” Emma’s eyes snapped open. The room had transformed overnight. Her posters were gone, replaced by pastel walls covered in My Little Pony and teddy bear murals. A full-sized wooden changing table stood against one wall, stocked with stacks of Pampers Cruisers, wipes, powders, and lotions. A large rocking chair sat in the corner with a nursing pillow draped over it. Toddler toys—blocks, rattles, stuffies—were scattered everywhere. Her normal bed had been replaced by an oversized crib with high rails and a mobile dangling overhead. She was still 18. Her body was the same—long legs, perky C-cup tits, adult curves—but she lay there in nothing but the massively swollen, yellowed diaper and plastic pants, the pacifier clipped to her Rainbow Dash shirt, still suckling unconsciously. “Mom?! What the fuck?!” Emma yanked the pacifier from her mouth with a wet pop, strings of drool connecting it to her lips. She scrambled to sit up, the heavy diaper sagging between her thighs, piss squelching audibly. “This isn’t funny! I’m not a fucking baby! Take this shit off me right now!” Her mother, still in her comfortable mom jeans and blouse, smiled indulgently and stepped closer. She knelt down and gently but firmly pushed the pacifier back between Emma’s protesting lips. “Shhh, shhh, Mommy’s little baby is so cranky this morning. Yes she is! All fussy and red-faced before she even gets her milkies. That big wet diapee must be making her grumpy, huh?” Emma’s eyes widened in horror. She spat the paci out again. “I’m eighteen, you crazy bitch! I’m not your fucking baby! This room— these clothes— what the hell is happening?!” She tried to stand, but her mother easily pushed her back down onto her padded bottom. The impact sent a fresh squish of cold piss up against her clit, making her involuntarily whimper. Mommy cupped Emma’s flushed cheek, thumb brushing away drool. “Aww, listen to my silly toddler trying to use big-girl words. You’re Mommy’s special big baby, and still needing your diapees and paci and milky-wilkies. That’s perfectly normal for my little Emma. Now come here, cranky girl. Time for nursing before that temper gets any worse.” Emma realized what was about to happen as her mother unbuttoned her blouse, revealing full, heavy breasts already leaking droplets of milk from dark, erect nipples. The rocking chair loomed nearby. “No! No, no, fuck no— MOMMY STOP!” Emma screamed, thrashing, her diaper crinkling loudly as she kicked her legs. The plastic pants made obscene wet noises with every desperate movement. “I’m not sucking on your tits! I’m an adult! This is insane— I’m not a baby!” But her mother simply scooped her up with surprising strength, carrying the 18-year-old like an overgrown toddler. Emma’s bulky, soaked diaper pressed against her mom’s hip, leaking a little warm piss down her own thigh. Mommy settled into the rocking chair, positioning Emma across her lap so the girl’s face was inches from her swollen, leaking breast. “Mommy’s little baby is having such a big tantrum,” she cooed, guiding Emma’s head forward while squeezing her own nipple. A thick bead of milk welled up and dripped. “But once she gets these warm milkies in her tummy, she’ll be such a happy, sleepy baby again. Open up, sweetheart. That’s it…” Emma screamed one last time as the thick, milk-drooling nipple was forced between her lips, her mouth instantly filling with sweet, warm breast milk. Her eyes bulged in humiliated panic even as her body betrayed her—instinctively beginning to suckle with wet, rhythmic gulps while her soaked diaper grew even heavier beneath her.   Emma’s eyes watered as the thick, warm breast milk sprayed forcefully against the back of her throat. The liquid was sickeningly sweet, almost cloyingly watery with a creamy aftertaste that coated her tongue. Her stomach churned almost immediately. She tried to pull away, but her mother’s firm hand held the back of her head pressed tightly to the heavy, leaking tit, the fat nipple jammed deep between her lips so she had no choice but to gulp down every pulsing squirt. “Mmmph—!” Emma’s muffled protest vibrated against the breast. Her belly bloated quickly from the sheer volume, gurgling loudly as the milk filled her. Nausea rose in thick waves. She felt hot, dizzy, her face burning crimson with humiliation while her adult mind screamed in silent panic. It went on and on—long, rhythmic swallows, the wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds filling the nursery as drool and milk mixed and ran down her chin, dripping onto her tight My Little Pony shirt and soaking Rainbow Dash’s face. Just when she thought her stomach couldn’t take any more and she might vomit, Mommy gently lifted her head with a wet pop, strings of milk stretching from Emma’s lips to the glistening nipple. Emma gasped for air, coughing, a trickle of milk running from her nose. “Poor cranky baby,” Mommy cooed lovingly. “One side’s all done. Time for the other milky, yes it is!” Before Emma could scream again, she was shifted across Mommy’s lap. The heavy, piss-filled diaper squelched loudly under her as her face was pushed into the second swollen breast. This nipple was even leakier. The moment it entered her mouth, a powerful jet of warm milk shot straight onto her tongue. Emma’s belly protested violently, sloshing audibly now, but the suckling reflex took over again. She drank. And drank. The nausea intensified into a deep, queasy fullness that made her whole body tremble. Then it hit—a sudden, heavy pressure deep in her guts. The milk was working fast. “No… no, please—” she whimpered around the nipple, but it was too late. Her sphincter relaxed against her will. A long, soft log of poop began pushing out into the seat of her already soaked Pampers. It crackled wetly as it coiled thickly into the padding, warm and mushy, spreading across her ass cheeks and pressing up against her puckered hole. Another wave came, and she helplessly pushed out more—soft, creamy mess that squelched and expanded the back of the diaper, the plastic pants crinkling loudly as they contained the growing load. The smell rose faintly, warm and earthy, trapped inside the thick padding. Mommy noticed immediately. She slid one hand down and cupped the sagging, bulging seat of Emma’s diaper, gently squeezing and massaging the fresh mush. “Awww, there we go,” Mommy murmured happily, her voice dripping with affection. “Mommy understands why her little babykins was so fussy and cranky. She just needed her milkies to help her make big poopies, didn’t she? Such a good girl filling her diapee for Mommy.” Emma moaned involuntarily as her mother pressed the warm, messy load firmly against her ass, squishing it thoroughly between her cheeks and up toward her pussy. The sensation was overwhelming—the hot, soft shit spreading everywhere, combined with the cold piss already soaking her front. Mommy’s hand moved forward, mashing the heavy, swollen diaper against Emma’s clit through the padding. The mush shifted and kneaded obscenely with every press. Emma’s hips twitched. Another helpless moan escaped around the fat nipple as she kept nursing, milk dribbling from the corners of her stretched mouth. Her bloated belly gurgled loudly while Mommy continued massaging the filthy diaper in slow, firm circles—smearing the poop across her bottom and grinding the soaked, padded crotch against her swollen, sensitive folds. The 18-year-old’s body betrayed her completely. Shame burned through her even as involuntary pleasure spiked with every squelching mash of her messy, piss-and-shit-filled Pampers. She suckled harder, eyes rolling back, soft humiliated whimpers mixing with desperate, moaning cries around her mother’s milk as the rocking chair creaked gently beneath them. Emma’s body shuddered one final time as the forced orgasm faded, her pussy still twitching and clenching inside the warm, disgusting mess of her diaper. The thick, mushy load of shit squelched heavily between her ass cheeks with every tiny movement, while the front of her Pampers remained soaked with piss and her own juices. She kept suckling mindlessly on Mommy’s nipple for another five full minutes, too broken and defeated to fight anymore. Wet, rhythmic gulps filled the nursery as more warm, sweet milk flooded her already bloated belly. Her eyes were glassy, half-lidded, tears of humiliation streaking her flushed cheeks. Drool and milk ran freely from the corners of her stretched mouth, soaking the front of her tight My Little Pony t-shirt until Rainbow Dash was drenched and translucent, her hard nipples clearly outlined beneath. Finally, Mommy gently pulled her head back. The fat nipple slipped from Emma’s lips with a long, wet schlorp, leaving her mouth hanging open like a real baby’s. Thick strings of milk and saliva stretched and broke, dripping messily down her chin, onto her neck, and all over her heaving chest. “This baby needs a bib, methinks,” Mommy said softly, half to herself and half to her humiliated 18-year-old daughter, wiping some of the mess with her thumb before licking it clean. “Look at the mess my big toddler is making. So sloppy with her milkies.” Emma could only whimper pathetically. Any remaining fight had been drained out of her along with the orgasm and the endless nursing. She felt utterly defeated, her adult mind screaming in silent horror while her body behaved exactly like an overgrown infant. Mommy lifted her easily, turning Emma around and hoisting her up against her shoulder in a classic burping position. Emma’s heavy, sagging, poop-filled diaper pressed firmly against Mommy’s side, the plastic pants crinkling loudly as the massive mushy load shifted and spread even more across her ass. The warm, filthy mess squished obscenely against her skin with every step Mommy took. One of Mommy’s hands rubbed firm, soothing circles on Emma’s back while the other supported her padded bottom, occasionally giving the loaded diaper a gentle pat that made the shit smear further between her cheeks and against her pussy. “Come on, babykins… let it all out for Mommy,” she cooed. Emma’s bloated, milk-swollen belly gurgled loudly. She tried to hold it in, but another firm pat on her messy diaper and a deep rub on her back forced it out. A long, loud, infantile BUUUUURP erupted from her throat, followed immediately by a thick spray of milk spittle that spewed from her mouth and nose all over the clean spittle cloth Mommy had draped over her shoulder. More drool and curdled milk dribbled down her chin in humiliating ropes as she gasped and whimpered. The burp brought up even more milky vomit that trickled warmly down her front, adding to the mess on her shirt. The smell of milk, spit-up, and her own loaded diaper filled her nose. Emma’s face burned with devastating shame. She was eighteen years old — an adult — yet here she was, burping like a baby over her mommy’s shoulder, drooling and spitting up milk while helplessly shitting herself in a soaked, messy Pampers. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as the full weight of her regression crashed over her. She felt small. Pathetic. Broken. Every crinkle of the plastic pants, every squish of the warm poop against her most private places, every dribble of milk down her chin reminded her exactly what she had become. “Such a good girl,” Mommy praised, still rubbing her back. “Mommy’s little baby made such a big burp and filled her diapee so nicely. Let’s get that yucky bottom changed soon, hmm?” Emma could only hide her burning face against Mommy’s neck and let out a soft, defeated sob around the pacifier that was soon pushed back between her lips.   Mommy smiled warmly as she adjusted Emma’s limp, defeated body in her arms, cradling the 18-year-old like a oversized infant. Emma’s heavy, shit-loaded diaper sagged obscenely between her spread thighs, the plastic pants stretched tight over the bulging, brownish mass. Every step Mommy took made the warm, mushy poop squelch audibly against Emma’s ass cheeks and smeared pussy lips. “Lily, sweetie!” Mommy called downstairs in a cheerful voice. “Time to get ready for preschool! Brush your teeth and put on your shoes. Mommy has to finish cleaning your big sister’s yucky diapee first, so you need to be all ready before we come down, okay pumpkin?” A tiny voice answered from below: “Okay Mommy!” Emma whimpered miserably around her pacifier, fresh tears spilling down her flushed cheeks. She was still leaking milk and drool onto Mommy’s shoulder, her bloated belly gurgling loudly from all the breast milk. Mommy carried her straight to the changing table and laid her down on the padded surface with a loud crinkle. The bright overhead nursery lights shone mercilessly on Emma’s humiliated form. Mommy quickly unclipped the pacifier, popped it back into Emma’s mouth, then snapped the straps of the plastic pants open. The foul smell of fresh shit immediately filled the air as she peeled the crinkly plastic pants down Emma’s legs. “Oh my goodness, what a massive poopy,” Mommy cooed, wrinkling her nose but smiling. “Baby Emma really filled her diapee good for Mommy.” Emma’s face burned scarlet. She tried to close her legs, but Mommy firmly pushed her knees apart, exposing everything. The tapes of the Pampers were peeled open one by one with loud ripping sounds. The front of the diaper fell away, revealing Emma’s shaved pussy glistening with cold piss and her own cum, while the seat was a complete disaster — thick, soft, yellowish-brown mush coated her round ass cheeks, smeared deep between them, and even clung in sticky streaks to her puckered asshole and the back of her pussy lips. Mommy lifted Emma’s legs high by the ankles, folding her almost in half so her messy bottom was completely on display. She used handfuls of baby wipes to attack the filth. Cold, wet wipes dragged slowly and thoroughly across Emma’s most private areas. Mommy cleaned every crease, every fold — scrubbing the poop from the sensitive skin around her anus, then wiping up between her labia, making sure to drag the wipe firmly over Emma’s still-sensitive clit. Emma moaned helplessly around the pacifier, her hips twitching involuntarily as the humiliating cleaning continued. More wipes. More cold wetness. The used wipes piled up in the open diaper beneath her, a disgusting brown-and-yellow mess. Mommy even slid a finger, wrapped in a fresh wipe, just inside Emma’s tight asshole to scoop out the last stubborn bits, making Emma squeal and clench. “Hold still, baby. We can’t have any poopy left on that pretty bottom,” Mommy scolded gently. Once Emma was finally clean, Mommy powdered her generously. Thick white clouds of baby powder puffed over her pussy, asshole, and inner thighs. Mommy rubbed it in thoroughly with both hands, her fingers gliding slickly over Emma’s smooth mound and spreading her cheeks wide to make sure the powder coated every bit of her freshly cleaned skin. The sweet scent of the powder mixed with the lingering smell of shit. A fresh, thick Pampers Cruiser was slid underneath Emma’s lifted bottom. The tapes were fastened extra snug, pulling the bulky padding tight against her pussy and forcing her legs apart again. New pink plastic pants were pulled up over it with a loud rustle, sealing everything in. Mommy lifted the freshly diapered 18-year-old back into her arms and kissed her forehead. “All clean! Now let’s get my baby down for yummy breakfast in her high chair before Lily finishes getting ready.” Emma felt completely broken as she was carried downstairs, thick diaper crinkling loudly with every step, plastic pants shining under the lights. Milk and drool still dripped from her chin onto her ruined My Little Pony shirt. Her mind screamed in silent devastation while her body hung limp and compliant in Mommy’s arms, already dreading whatever “yummy breakfast” meant in her new nightmare reality.   Emma’s mind reeled as Mommy carried her into the kitchen. Lily was standing by the door, slipping on her little pink sneakers and adjusting her backpack. But this wasn’t the two-year-old toddler from yesterday. Lily looked five years old now — bigger, with longer hair in pigtails, wearing a preschool uniform dress. She grinned up at them. “Bye Mommy! Bye big baby sister!” Lily chirped happily before running out to the waiting carpool. Emma’s eyes widened in pure confusion and horror around her pacifier. How…? Yesterday Lily had been a barely-talking two-year-old. Today she was five and going to preschool like it was the most normal thing in the world. The whole reality felt twisted and broken. Emma tried to protest, but only a muffled whimper came out. Mommy lowered her into the oversized wooden high chair with a loud crinkle. The thick, freshly powdered Pampers Cruiser compressed under Emma’s weight, the plastic pants stretching taut over her padded bottom. Mommy pulled the sturdy tray into place, locking it tight against Emma’s chest and trapping her arms at her sides. Her long legs dangled uselessly, the bulky diaper forcing them wide apart so anyone could see the shiny pink plastic covering her crotch. “Such a good girl for Mommy,” Mommy cooed, tying a thick pink rubber bib around Emma’s neck. It was huge, babyish, and covered most of her chest. The word “Messy Baby” was printed in bold white letters across the front, right over her milk-stained My Little Pony shirt. The rubber material was glossy and waterproof, already catching stray drool that leaked from around Emma’s pacifier. Mommy popped the pacifier out of Emma’s mouth. Before the 18-year-old could say a single word, a large MAM baby bottle was pushed between her lips. The nipple was soft, thick, and designed for newborns — wide and slow-flow. Warm formula, slightly sweet and milky, flooded her mouth the moment she instinctively sucked. “Mmmph—!” Emma’s eyes watered as she was forced to drink. The formula tasted stronger than the breast milk, heavier, with a chemical sweetness that made her stomach churn all over again. Mommy held the bottle at the perfect angle, one hand gently stroking Emma’s cheek while the other rested on the high chair tray. “That’s it, babykins. Big suckles for Mommy. We need to fill that tummy with nice warm formula after all that nursing and those big poopies,” Mommy encouraged softly. Emma’s cheeks hollowed as she suckled hard, the wet gluck-gluck-gluck sounds echoing in the kitchen. Formula bubbled in the bottle with every pull. Drool and excess formula immediately spilled from the corners of her mouth, running down her chin and collecting in the trough of the pink rubber bib. Her bloated belly gurgled loudly under the tray, already protesting the new liquid being forced into it on top of all the breast milk. She squirmed helplessly in the high chair, the fresh diaper crinkling loudly beneath her. Every movement reminded her how thick and babyish the padding was — how exposed and ridiculous she looked with her adult body stuffed into toddler clothes and a massive diaper. Her shaved pussy throbbed faintly beneath the soft padding, still sensitive from the earlier cleaning and the humiliating orgasm. Tears of utter defeat rolled down her cheeks as she kept drinking. The warm formula sloshed into her stomach, making it swell noticeably against the tight bib and tray. Mommy just smiled lovingly and tilted the bottle higher, forcing Emma to gulp faster. “Such a thirsty baby this morning. Drink it all up like a good girl, and maybe Mommy will let you play with your toys after breakfast before your next diaper check.” Emma could only suck harder on the MAM nipple, utterly broken, her mind screaming at the impossible changes around her while her body obeyed like the oversized infant she had become. The rubber bib grew slick with spilled formula as the bottle steadily emptied down her throat.   Emma kept gulping down the warm formula, her cheeks hollowing around the thick MAM bottle nipple, when her eyes drifted downward. What she saw made her stomach drop even harder than the sloshing liquid filling it. Her once-flat, toned 18-year-old belly was gone. In its place was a soft, pudgy potbelly that swelled outward noticeably under the tight pink rubber bib. It pressed firmly against the high chair tray, round and full from all the breast milk and now the heavy formula being pumped into her. The “Messy Baby” lettering on the bib stretched across the top of her new baby fat. Every swallow made it jiggle slightly. Tears welled up faster. Mommy noticed and cooed, “Aww, is my chubby little baby looking at her cute tummy? All that milk and formula is making you nice and soft, just how a baby should be.” Emma frantically turned her head toward the large decorative mirror on the kitchen wall. The reflection that stared back at her was devastating. Her face had changed. A soft double chin now cushioned her jawline, making her look rounder and younger. Her cheeks were fuller, flushed pink with shame. Worst of all, her long hair had been restyled without her noticing — two high, bouncy pigtails tied with bright pink ribbons sat on either side of her head, and straight-cut bangs framed her forehead like a toddler’s. The pigtails bobbed every time she suckled, completing the infantile picture. She looked like an overgrown, slightly chubby toddler. An 18-year-old body with perky C-cup breasts straining against the milk-stained My Little Pony shirt, but now softened with new baby fat around her middle and face, stuffed into a bulging diaper and bib, sucking desperately on a baby bottle. “Nooo…” Emma whimpered weakly around the nipple, but it came out as a pathetic, lisping gurgle. More formula spilled down her chin, flooding the rubber bib until it pooled in the front pocket. Mommy chuckled lovingly and tilted the bottle even higher, forcing the last few ounces down Emma’s throat with loud, wet gulps. “Look at my pretty baby with her pigtails! So adorable. That double chin and round tummy are perfect. It just means you’re healthy and growing into a big, soft toddler for Mommy.” The bottle finally emptied with a loud sucking noise. Mommy pulled the nipple free, and a thick river of formula drooled from Emma’s open mouth, cascading over her double chin and onto the already soaked bib. Emma’s pudgy belly gurgled and bloated even more visibly now that the tray was pressing against it. She could feel the fresh load of warm liquid swirling inside her, pressing downward. Her lower lip trembled. She looked ridiculous — pigtails bouncing, double chin wobbling, soft belly protruding, and the thick, crinkly diaper visible between her spread thighs under the high chair tray. The pink plastic pants shone mockingly in the morning light. Mommy wiped Emma’s messy face with the corner of the bib, then gently patted the swollen front of her diaper. “Time to let that formula work, babykins. Mommy can already tell you’re going to need another change soon with all that milk in your tummy. Now let’s get you down for playtime while that poopy diaper gets nice and full again.” Emma could only sob softly, her pigtails swaying as she helplessly squirmed in the high chair, her new chubby body betraying her at every movement.   Emma sat limply on the thick, pastel-colored play mat in the living room after being lifted from the high chair. Her pudgy belly strained against the rubber bib, and her pigtails bounced as Mommy gently lowered her onto her heavily padded bottom. The fresh diaper immediately squished under her weight. Mommy knelt beside her, smiling with pure maternal love, and pushed the thick pink MAM pacifier between Emma’s trembling lips. Emma’s mouth closed around it automatically, and she began to suckle with soft, wet noises. “Oh sweetheart,” Mommy murmured, stroking Emma’s chubby cheek and double chin with her thumb. “It feels like just yesterday we found you in your room like that — all diapered up in your little sister’s Pampers, wearing that silly My Little Pony shirt and sucking on that pacifier like a naughty baby. Three whole years ago now. Remember the spankings? All those bare-bottom punishments over Mommy’s knee until your bottom was bright red and you were sobbing and promising to be a good girl? The timeouts in the crib, the endless corner time with your messy diapee on display… all those months of strict training until you finally stopped fighting and accepted your place again.” Emma’s eyes widened in horror as the memories slammed into her like a freight train. It all came rushing back. She had fought it at first. The humiliation. The endless diapers. The spankings that left her ass bruised for days. The forced feedings. The way her parents had slowly broken her down over months until she stopped protesting and started craving the thick padding between her legs. Three years. Three years of living as Mommy’s big baby girl while the world outside moved on. Lily had grown from toddler to five-year-old preschooler, and Emma had… regressed. Completely. Tears flooded her eyes. She started to cry hard around the pacifier — big, heaving sobs that made her pigtails shake and her double chin wobble. “Mmmph—! N-nooo…” she whimpered brokenly, but it came out as pathetic babyish garbling. “Aww, there’s my fussy baby,” Mommy cooed. She pulled Emma into her lap, opened her blouse, and guided one heavy, leaking breast to her daughter’s mouth. The fat nipple pushed past the pacifier and between Emma’s lips, replacing it. Warm, sweet breast milk immediately sprayed forcefully into her mouth. “Shhh… drink Mommy’s milkies, baby. That’s it. Good girl.” Emma suckled desperately, crying even as she nursed. Fat tears rolled down her round cheeks while milk dribbled from the corners of her stretched mouth. Her pudgy belly gurgled loudly as more liquid filled her. Mommy’s free hand slid down and cupped the front of Emma’s diaper. Then she moved to the seat. The load had come while Emma was in the high chair — a fresh, soft, heavy mess that had spread across her ass. Mommy began to rub it firmly, mashing the warm, squelchy poop deep between Emma’s cheeks and pressing the mushy bulge hard against her puckered asshole and the back of her pussy. The sensation was overwhelming. The thick, sticky mess squelched audibly with every circular rub. Mommy kneaded the loaded diaper like dough, smearing the poop thoroughly across Emma’s most intimate areas while Emma kept nursing with wet, greedy gulps. Emma’s hips started twitching. Shame burned through her, but her body responded anyway. Her clit swelled and throbbed against the soaked, messy padding as Mommy’s hand ground the filth firmly against it. The combination of warm breast milk flooding her mouth, the heavy load being rubbed into her skin, and the deep infantile humiliation pushed her over the edge. She came hard. Emma moaned loudly around Mommy’s nipple, her eyes rolling back as powerful spasms ripped through her. Her pussy clenched and gushed inside the disgusting diaper while her ass clenched around the smeared poop. Milk spurted from the corners of her mouth as she cried and orgasmed at the same time, her pudgy body shaking in Mommy’s arms. The pacifier lay forgotten on the mat beside them, coated in drool. As the orgasm faded, something deeper broke inside Emma’s mind. The fight drained away completely. Her adult thoughts grew fuzzy and distant. The memories of her old life — school, friends, turning eighteen — felt unreal, like a half-forgotten dream. All that remained was the comforting warmth of Mommy’s breast, the heavy, comforting squish of her poopy diaper, and the overwhelming need to be small. She suckled slower, softer, making contented baby noises. Her pigtails rested against Mommy’s chest as she nuzzled deeper into the breast, eyes growing heavy and glassy. “That’s my good baby girl,” Mommy whispered lovingly, still gently rubbing the messy diaper. “All better now. Welcome home again, my sweet little Emma.” Emma only cooed softly around the nipple, fully regressing once more.

I have no sexual intrest in diapers. I have no intrest in dressing as a baby or partaking in age play. I love the way diapers make me feel. I always feel warm and conforted and most of my anxiety subsides when im out in publix with one on. You are not alone!

Im in worcester. Im always looking for new friends to talk to and hangout with. I dont have anyfriends in the space. Im 33

When the rearz omatsus released i ended up buying a ton of cases. Hoping to sell off a few so i can get the lunar ones. Theyre size M

AN: another short story I wrote with my partner. Hope you enjoy! Taking Flight "Crib or kennel tonight, sweetheart?" Sparrow reached down her hand to scratch behind Penny’s ears, running fingers through her hair and gently stroking her cheek. "Don't want either…" This was stupid. She shouldn't have to make these choices. But head scritches were too good. Her protest melted away, dying on her tongue. She leaned into Sparrow’s hand.. “The question wasn’t “if”, but which one, cutie. Can’t have you making a mess in bed tonight.” Penny blushed and cringed away at the mention of her wetting the bed. They hadn't even talked about that! "I don't do that sorta stuff…" Ugh! Talking about it was too much. It was already too much that Sparrow knew about any of this.  Sparrow took her face gently in her hand, turning her to meet her eyes. “No? You’re not a pretty little puppy who’s working on her training? That's not what I heard from you last night." Penny pushed up off the floor, curling into the corner of the couch. "Can we just forget about that? Please? I don't really like that kinda stuff. I just…" Damn. Sparrow faltered. She was used to playing “Mistress” not “Mommy” – it was so much easier just telling people what to do. But Pen looked so fragile staring up at her. Going back to pretending this wasn't a part of her wasn't going to help. Time to break out the emotional first aid kit. “You just stayed up too late and confessed a bunch of deep dark secrets and now you’re having big feelings about it. Do you want to tell me about them?” “Urgh! That sounds awful!" Pen buried her face in the blanket, missing Sparrow’s sympathetic smile. “Yeah, it really does. Maybe give it a try anyway and see how it goes?  "Yeah, but I don't even like this part of me. I just want to be… normal..” “Unfortunately, there’s no such thing as normal. Just different flavors of weird. Like can you imagine being a businessman? Or an airplane pilot? Or a professional gymnast? That lifestyle wouldn’t work for me at all, but for some folks, it’s all they want. Just because your flavor isn’t on a lot of other people’s menus, doesn’t mean it’s not okay.” Penny sat there begrudgingly considering. She felt like she'd just dropped their friendship on the ground and was desperately trying to glue the pieces back together. And Sparrow was completely unconcerned about the mess! Why wasn’t she freaking out at all? Penny didn’t even know what to do with that. She began to finally peer out from behind the blanket. "I think it's not that I *don't* want this, exactly. When I was a kid, my favorite movie was Lady and the Tramp. I used to think about what it would be like for someone to take me in, and care about me and…" She blushed. "But this doesn't feel like that at all. It feels like I'm broken. And I know you keep saying that it's normal, and fine, but I'm so scared that secretly it's not. That I'll tell you one thing too many and you'll think I'm unfixable. And then I'll be back to where I was, but worse. Broken and alone." “”Oof, that’s such a hard place to be. It sounds like you’ve been ashamed of this for a very long time. It’s okay to admit you're afraid. And you're right, that knot in your stomach won’t magically untie overnight. But if just ignoring it were going to help, I think it would have worked by now. Being scared doesn't mean you can't try new things. And being scared of me rejecting you doesn't mean that I am or I will. It's okay to see what happens. It’s true, it might be hard. Your brain is working overtime trying to protect you from that. But it might be great. You might get to have the things you never thought you were allowed to want. All the best things in life are on the other side of fear. But the only way to have a chance at that is to show up and try it. Penny stared at her friend across the couch. This was her worst fear– someone finally figuring this out. And here she was, sitting across from this girl, gently nudging her to try. It was scary, but it was also a chance. A chance to not hate this part of herself, and let herself out of this maze. And all she had to do was say the most terrifying yes of her life. Penny looked up, tears in her eyes. "You promise that you're okay with this?" “I promise, sweetie. You're not broken just because you don't fit whatever box people think is normal. There’s no box to fit in here. It's just what you and I want.” Sparrow held out her arms, inviting Penny into her warmth. As she melted towards her, she tucked her into her lap, gently cradling her head, rubbing soft circles across her back. “Come here, little one.” she murmured. “All of you is welcome here. I promise”