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Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
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By wetdiaper55 · Posted
Good chapter . I love the soft blocks he is going to use ,it will fit nicely in the nursery .It going to be awhile before he is able to walk by him self , an adult stroller is needed . I am thinking his big side is going to shrink a lot , and his little side ,(seams like about 12 months old not even 18 months old ) , I do not know how Amber visit is going to go . -
I haven't read the story and think you should be free to write it if you want, though I'd just point out that the Diaper Dimension was originally conceived as a "Dimension" which a smug woman with ABDL fantasies (Alisa) accidentally launched herself into based on not taking a scientific multiverse experiment seriously and it sending her into a place where all the ABDL stories she'd ever read were true. It was meant to be a semi comedic mishmash of ABDL story tropes where the protagonist runs from one scenario to the next and barely escapes it all at the end. It was implied that the stories had kept chasing her however and it would go on and on, with an ABDL story often being about the chase into / running from regression slash trying to prove adulthood, and not about the situation after. I think that's why Chasing Emily is probably the single best DD fan fiction, because it's primarily about that chase (hence the name, and with a character literally named Chase). A core driving part of the original story was that characters are ultimately somewhat responsible for what happens to them and end up in these situations due to their own character flaws (e.g. overconfidence in the case of the protagonist, though she manages to barely turn that around on several overconfident bigger people as well), rather than things happening out of some random cruelty. It was also originally established as a place where all sizes could be and often would be diapered through this cosmic justice, though Littles (not even called that in the original story) tended to be the type of protagonist trope who are so small they end up often struggling to prove their adulthood in mixups, and giants are the trope of being big enough to diaper normal sized people - and so when the two trope sizes sometimes encounter each other in this shared world it can lead to an even more intense version of each. Many giants did end up diapered though. It was essentially a vehicle for the reader's ABDL character insert to explore their fantasies in a "careful what you wish for" sort of way, where obviously people don't want those things to be true, any more than any other fiction which is all nearly always about conflict and a type of problem that people enjoy "practicing" for in their head. After the author Princess Pottypants said others could write in the setting (I think I may have been the one to ask), there's been a sort of spinoff setting that some have created which is oddly... dark, not seeming to come at it from the same angle of it being "A big silly ABDL adventure" and a place where there's no real psychological trauma etc, because such things don't exist in the ABDL stories the universe is a mix of, instead protagonists are always blushing vehicles for the readers and probably even have secret ABDL desires themselves. The moment a story described as being in the diaper dimension describes anything like death or violence or realistic trauma I check out, because that was never the original intent at all, and the people of the world would never really be more hurt than the characters in ABDL stories, at most flustered and a bit embarrassed and probably even a bit turned on while being pulled between competing desires to remain an adult and to explore AB fantasies. If anything I perceived the DD as being somewhere which could well have some big silly secret like characters are immortal and eventually get regressed and somewhat forget things over and over, because it's a place based on all ABDL stories where somehow these alternative rules just work and none of it is ever really "bad" somehow. -
Chasing Emily perhaps would fit, since it alternates between POVs.
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Opps😊 Appologis for my reading on a phone a wearing glasses. That is supposed to say I HAVE NOT had the courage to bring it up with my new GP -
By Bel George · Posted
Chapter 3, The First Day I hadn’t expected it to feel so real. I mean, sure, I’d signed a silly bet and stepped into a diaper, on a dare basically, but somehow I thought it would stay in the realm of jokes. Light teasing. A few laughs. A chance to laugh at myself. But by late afternoon, reality had a different tone. The diaper wasn’t just bulky. It was there, constantly. Warm, snug, and crinkling with every step I took. Under my jeans, it pressed against me whenever I sat down or bent forward, and the padding reminded me of its presence in ways I couldn’t ignore. I found myself adjusting constantly, and there was no real way to get comfortable. And I couldn’t exactly forget what I was wearing. Not with Tessa humming cheerfully every time she passed me in the hallway, or Emily calling out a teasing “How’s the padding, sweetheart?” from the kitchen. Still, I tried to act normal. I helped prep dinner: pasta with garlic butter, fresh greens, and wine for the ladies, water for me. We ate together at the old wooden dining table near the windows. Emily kicked me under the table gently as we talked, her smile warm and easy. But her eyes flicked toward my lap more than once, and I could feel the heat in my face every time she did. Then, at some point between the salad and the second round of bread, I really had to pee. Badly. And that's when the weight of the situation hit me. There was no decision to make. There was no option. The diaper was there, strapped to me like a quiet, padded truth. I couldn’t sneak it off. I couldn’t use the toilet without breaking the bet. And asking them? That wasn’t even on the table. I sat in my chair, fidgeting slightly. I tried to tell my body that I was in control, that I was an adult, and that this was just a temporary arrangement. But the body is a stubborn thing. I felt the first hint of it. A tiny, rebellious trickle that defied years of disciplined habit. My muscles clenched instinctively, fighting the urge, trying to hold onto a sense of dignity. I sat there, rigid and sweating, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I was fighting myself, battling a lifetime of being "proper". It started small. A trickle. A tiny warmth. Eventually the release took over. A warm, heavy sensation that flooded the padding beneath me. I felt the diaper swell, growing thick and sodden against my hips, the heat of it spreading. I shifted in my seat, a futile, desperate movement to hide the expression on my face, but the sensation was too pervasive to mask. I sat there, paralyzed, as the realization set in: I wasn't just wearing the diaper, I was using it. I felt like a toddler, caught in the middle of a conversation, too distracted or too lazy to excuse himself. I wanted to crawl under the table and hide, but I couldn't move. I just sat there. But they didn’t say anything. Not right away. Tessa waited until the plates were being cleared before she glanced over and said, ever so sweetly, “Is someone feeling a little soggy?” Emily turned, giving me a knowing look. “You were wiggling a bit.” “I, uh…” I stammered. “Maybe. A little.” “Good boy,” Tessa said brightly. “You let us know when you’re ready for a change.” “I’m ready now.” “After the dishes,” she said with a wink. Ten minutes later I was back on the bed. Stripped from the waist down, my legs held up by the firm, unyielding grip of Tessa’s hands. My face was burning with a shame I couldn't quite shake, even as I tried to maintain a stoic expression. Then came the wipe. It wasn't just a quick dab. It was a deliberate, clinical movement. The wet wipe was freezing, a sharp, biting sensation that sliced through the lingering warmth of the accident. Tessa didn't rush. She worked with a focused, maternal precision, sliding the cloth thoroughly between my cheeks, ensuring every trace of the moment was scrubbed away. “Honestly,” she said, pausing to glance at the neat, trimmed hair between his legs before continuing her work. “Since you’re going to use your diapers, it’s a good thing to at least try to keep yourself tidy.” Her voice was light but carrying an unmistakable edge of authority. She didn't look up, her eyes fixed on her task. “I didn’t have much choice,” I muttered, my voice sounding thinner than I wanted it to. I stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the way the cool air hit my skin, making me feel even more exposed. “Of course you didn't,” Emily said, her voice a soft, melodic contrast to Tessa’s bluntness. She was standing right beside the bed, her hands resting on the edge of the mattress. She wasn't laughing anymore; instead, she wore a look of calm, quiet observation. She held the next diaper in her hands. A thick, pristine white slab of padding that looked dauntingly large. “That’s what they’re for, honey. To catch the mess so you don't have to worry about it.” She leaned forward, her eyes meeting mine, and for a second, I saw the look of a woman who knew exactly how much power she held in that moment. “Now, hold still,” Tessa commanded, her tone shifting from playful to maternal as she reached for the powder. Tessa powdered me again, more lavender, more humiliation, then taped me up neatly and patted the front like she was proud of her work. “All fresh,” she said, tugging my shirt down to my belly. “Try to stay dry until bedtime. Or don’t.” I shuffled back into my jeans and rejoined them in the living room, trying to act like everything was normal. By the time the sun set, I was back to squirming. We played cards and drank tea, the fire crackling in the hearth and casting warm light across the room. But the diaper was wet, soaked actually. I’d used it twice and it was starting to sag beneath me. When Emily noticed, she stood and quietly said, “Bedtime, I think.” Tessa brought out the bottle of powder and a folded diaper like it was routine. This time, Emily handled the change. She was slower than Tessa, gentler, but no less thorough. She wiped me clean, lifting my legs with care, and murmured soft encouragements the whole time. “There we go. Almost done. See? Not so bad.” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The room was dim, the blankets pulled up to my waist. I lay back against the pillows, a little stunned, wrapped in softness and powder, and somehow completely defeated. That’s when Emily sat beside me and held out the bottle. It was warm and full, with a soft, flexible nipple already coated in milk. “Here,” she whispered, brushing my hair back. “You earned this.” I hesitated, glancing toward the door. “She’s in her room,” Emily said. “This is just us.” I took the bottle and held it for a second, unsure what to do. But Emily didn’t move. She just smiled and gently urged the tip to my lips. When I let it in, the milk was warm and sweet. I drank slowly, blinking at the ceiling, not speaking. Emily held the bottle for me, cradling the back of my head as if she’d done it a hundred times. “That’s it,” she said. “Such a good boy today.” My cheeks burned at her words. But I didn’t pull away. Instead, as the bottle emptied and my body relaxed, I began thinking. If there were twenty-eight diapers in the pack… and we were only on day one… I needed to start drinking more. A lot more. The sooner I ran through those diapers, the sooner this madness would end. Wouldn’t it?
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