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They will cost $10 each and be less effective than wearing a Depend.

When I'm in little space, my little age is 1- 2 1/2 years old. So when mommy tried potty training me, I could never make it to the training potty in the past. We tried yesterday when I was in the little space of a 2 1/2 years old. It was a no-go. I didn't make it. I wanted the potty, but mommy was just finishing putting on the laundry when she made it to the bathroom; it was too late. I had already peed my diaper. She then decided I could stay in my diaper for a wee bit longer, not as a punishment, just because I'm still too young for the potty. Good thing too, cause not long later I made pushies. So mommy had to change me, she did say as a joke, "I'll tell daycare on Monday that you'll still have to wear diapers until we try potty training again". It was also a good thing when we were at the supermarket yesterday morning, Mommy didn't go buy any pull-ups for me to wear, or it probably would have been a disaster. But when she was changing me, she did say that Charlie one of my teddies can keep his pull-ups dry and use the potty. Oh well, anyways, still going to be in nappies for a wee bit longer.

Well, at least you have something to keep you busy and occupied. You’ll know if, you develop any leaks too.

Hi and welcome to DD. Wow, that’s some introduction! 😃 And, another wow! To all your hard work, on a beautiful sounding paradise, you two were able to put together for yourselves, and friends to enjoy. I always had hopes of doing similar, or something there abouts, but life does throw curves. Can’t say I’m not a bit jealous, but more power to you, and enjoy it! Maybe someday I can still achieve, at least some of my goals. &nbsp Ok, so you have to know, there’s lots of good likeminded people here, and lots of great content and information. Any questions, just ask. Be looking forward to seeing you around. Relax, have fun, and enjoy!

Anything AI as a whole is hated when used for writing. The people here can only tolerate it. Simply because AI lacks Soul. It's flavourless. I plan to rewrite my story completely. I'd sweeten it with my soul. Thank you.

The Nursery Trials A story by SolaraScott Chapter 47 - Interested Parties Ivy barely had time to flinch before a pair of arms slid beneath her knees and shoulders, lifting her from the bouncer with the impersonal tenderness of an assembly line. Her legs hung limply, her soaked and messy diaper drooping between them, as the arms turned and deposited her onto a padded changing table with all the ceremony of shelving a toy. The others followed, each of them hoisted like dolls from their seats and moved with similar efficiency. Their eyes darted about, but no one struggled. What would be the point? The arms didn’t care how clever you were. They didn’t react to sarcasm or scowls. They just did their job. Gloved fingers, too gentle to be kind, unsnapped Ivy’s onesie and peeled it away, exposing the swollen diaper beneath. It crinkled as it was undone, the tapes peeling away. Cold air met her damp skin, and she fought the urge to wince, instead letting her gaze fix on the ceiling—a mural of smiling cartoon clouds and pastel balloons. The table adjusted beneath her, shifting slightly to elevate her hips, and a warm wipe passed over her bare sex, between her cheeks, front to back. Her face flushed as the fresh diaper was slid beneath her. A cloud of powder followed. The tapes were fastened snug enough to remind her that she was, without question, still in the game. The soft cotton sleeper came next. It had a zipper up the front and was thick at the bottom, where it ballooned around the diaper. The arms threaded her limbs through it, zipped her up, and lifted her again, over the edge of the changing table, down the corridor, and into a walker. The seat caught her under her thighs. The straps clicked shut, tightening over her chest. Her toes brushed the floor, and the padded tray locked around her. The walker bobbed slightly as it settled into place. She was parked in a hallway of brushed steel and muted lighting. The air was clean, humming faintly with machinery and the sound of distant vents, and then the soft shuffle of another walker being clicked into place beside her. Finn arrived next, and he didn’t speak. Maria followed, rubbing at her face with her mittened hand as if trying to wipe away whatever humiliation still clung there. A scowling Sarah arrived last. Ivy’s walker creaked as she shifted, plastic wheels twitching with every nervous adjustment of her feet. Around her, the others did the same. There were no instructions, no commands from Mistress, no overhead voice. No mechanical arms bearing down on them with bibs or bottles or the next humiliation waiting on gloved fingers. Just… nothing. They shared uncertain glances. Because if you’re told to crawl, to drink, to mess, to obey… at least you know where the lines are. “Why are we out here?” Maria finally said, her voice edged with confusion. Her walker shifted slightly as she leaned forward, rubber soles squeaking faintly. “Are we all babies again? Or… caregivers?” She looked up at the wall across from them, frowning. “Where’s the display?” Ivy followed her gaze and immediately noticed what she hadn’t until now. The screen that displayed their caregiver's or baby's status was blank. There were no shifting boxes or status assignment, just a dull grey panel, humming softly as though asleep. Maria turned back, eyes darting between the group. “What the hell is going on?” “Good question,” Finn muttered, voice low but firm. “I’d really love an answer that isn’t a riddle or a lullaby.” Sarah shrugged as she leaned into her walker and pushed off down the hallway like she had somewhere better to be. “Honestly?” she said over her shoulder, “after everything they’ve put us through, I’m not about to question a little silence. If they wanna give me five minutes without a mechanical tickle monster or a bowl of mush, I’ll take it.” The rest of them hesitated for just a moment longer. “C’mon,” Ivy said finally, pushing her walker forward, the diaper between her legs crinkling. “Let’s see what’s waiting for us.” The other two followed behind her. The wheels of Ivy’s walker squeaked against the smooth tile as she rolled into the living room. The room had been altered yet again. Gone were the soft pastel colors, the plush rugs shaped like cartoon animals, the foam furniture that had invited them to sit. In their place stretched a room that looked clinical. The walls had been stripped of murals, now smooth and clean with a faint satin sheen, a muted lavender color that dulled the edges of the space. The furniture had changed, too. Real couches now sat arranged around a sunken carpet pit in the center of the room, not babyish foam things, but adult-sized, high-backed, upholstered in gray fabric with stiff edges. Chairs with rigid arms. Tables that didn’t have rounded corners or safety bumpers. Ivy had no idea how they were expected to use any of this furniture, not while they were strapped into the walkers. Where toys once lay scattered in chaotic patterns, there were now small stations. Four of them. One had a stack of books—actual books, hardcovers with proper bindings—lined up neatly next to a small tablet with a glowing screen. Another had a game board with stylized pieces arranged mid-play, and a digital timer resting beside it. The third was a long table with plain white trays of building blocks and rods, not brightly colored, but cool metallic tones, geometric. The fourth, most curious, was simply a full-length mirror. In the center of the room, arranged where the toy pit once sprawled, was a round table surrounded by four highchairs. These were not baby highchairs—those had tray tables and footrests and colorful cushions. These were tall, almost throne-like, molded plastic with harness buckles and a solid base. Everyone of them faced inward, as though designed for a council of toddlers trying to govern themselves. Finn’s walker clunked softly as he reached Ivy’s side. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again, as if the words he wanted didn’t quite fit the scene. “What... is this?” Maria said quietly, her voice brittle around the edges. She didn’t sound scared. Just confused in a way that settled too deep. Sarah snorted. “Looks like a daycare for CEOs.” Ivy’s walker creaked as she nudged it toward the nearest station. The wheels caught slightly on the edge of the carpet before bouncing over it, the soft crinkle of her diaper underscoring every inch of progress. She didn’t know why she was drawn to the books. Maybe it was instinct. She stopped beside the low shelf and bent awkwardly, mittens fumbling at the spine of the topmost book. The gloves dulled her grip and turned every motion into a negotiation, but she managed to drag the cover forward enough for it to fall into view. The title was stamped in embossed black ink on a slate-gray background. The Psychological Reformation of Mental and Physical Regression Her eyebrows lifted, just slightly. She adjusted the pacifier hanging from its ribbon at her chest and tilted the book to read more of the subtitle: A Comprehensive Framework for Sustainable Infantile Conditioning. “What the—” she muttered under her breath. She flipped it open, thumbing through pages as best as the mittens allowed. It was dense. Small type, long paragraphs, footnotes. This wasn’t some nursery prop or themed picture book. This was a manual, written like a psychology textbook, the kind you’d find on the back shelf of a research library—or in the office of someone whose job required justifying the systematic dismantling of adult autonomy. Every other book on the shelf bore similar titles: Developmental Regression and Obedience Pathways, Language Erosion in Early-Stage Behavioral Therapy, and The Role of Diaper Reliance in Emotional Resetting. None of them even tried to hide what they were. There were no metaphors, no softened terminology. Finn rolled up beside her, his walker bumping gently against hers with a soft click. He didn’t say anything right away, just leaned forward to get a better look. His eyes scanned the titles, his brow furrowed. “I was hoping for a novel,” he said after a moment, voice flat. Ivy gave a humorless huff, her hands still resting awkwardly on the book in her lap. “Yeah, well. I was hoping for a fire alarm and a crowbar.” He picked up a book and squinted at the spine. Pre-Linguistic Conditioning through Visual Stimuli. He didn’t even bother opening it. “What are these supposed to be? Lessons? Warnings?” “They’re guides,” Ivy said, voice barely above a whisper. “Like… training manuals.” “For whom?” Finn asked, eyes flicking to hers Ivy shrugged, just as confused as he was. These weren’t items intended to entertain or comfort. They were about control, about reshaping identity, about breaking down and building up again. “Uh, guys?” Sarah’s voice cut through the quiet like a ripple through still water—sharp, edged with something caught between curiosity and alarm. “You might wanna come look at this.” Ivy turned, her walker’s front wheels jerking slightly as she pivoted, the tray bumping her hips. Finn glanced up from the book in his lap, Maria pausing beside the mirror wall with a vaguely suspicious expression. The three of them rolled toward the far corner of the room, where Sarah was hunched beside one of the previously overlooked consoles, her fingers tapping the edge of a flat touchscreen embedded into a desk-like surface. A digital glow illuminated her face from below, casting odd shadows under her eyes. Her mittened fingers moved in short, purposeful swipes, navigating through what looked like a menu, clean, white font over a pink and gray interface. “What is it?” Finn asked, reaching her side. The rest crowded in behind him, the tight circle of walkers pressing uncomfortably close. Sarah pointed at the top of the screen. The words read: Adoption Readiness Metrics – Group 9A-Red. Below that, a series of charts, graphs, and profile tabs bloomed to life with every flick of Sarah’s finger. Each one bore a name, not numbers, actual names, their names. Each profile was loaded with data. Tabs marked Compliance, Cognitive Reduction Progress, Physical Comfort with Regression, Attachment Response Scores. A window pulsed softly in the corner labeled Public Display Viability Rating. “What… the hell,” Maria breathed, leaning in, her voice small in a way Ivy hadn’t heard before. Her eyes scanned her profile—rows of sliders, a progress bar labeled Regression Index, glowing softly at 68%. “Is this a joke?” Sarah’s finger tapped the screen again, pulling up another tab labeled Interested Parties. Ivy’s breath caught. Four blocks, side by side, like digital folders in a filing cabinet. Each had a set of initials and a cryptic ID code, followed by descriptive preferences. Seeks quiet, docile match. Favorable to early-stage regression. Responsive to tactile play. Prefers high-performance Littles with strong attachment imprinting. Must be bottle-acclimated. Requires mute or near-mute behaviors. No verbal autonomy desired. Required total diaper dependency. The cold clarity of the adoption screen hadn’t faded when Ivy turned away from it, her heart still pounding in uneven bursts that made it hard to breathe. She needed space. Her walker squeaked slightly as she rolled toward the far wall, back to the mirror. The others continued poring over the screen, voices lowered, sentences sharp and clipped. But Ivy felt herself detach from it, like her name on the adoption profile had torn something loose inside her and let it drift. She came to a stop in front of the mirror. It reflected her exactly as she was: dressed in a pale lavender sleeper zipped to the chin, mittened hands resting on the tray of her walker, legs dangling, thick diaper beneath the puffy fabric. Her hair was messy, and her face was pale. The pacifier clipped to her collar bobbed with her breath. She looked like a baby. The mirror shimmered just once, as if a screen behind glass had hesitated between frames. Ivy blinked and leaned forward. Her nose nearly touched the surface. There it was again—a brief ripple, like water disturbed from beneath. Then something appeared. A line of text, soft and pale, faint enough she could’ve missed it if she hadn’t been watching. Please, come back to us, baby girl. Ivy’s breath stopped. She stared, eyes wide. The words lingered for half a heartbeat longer before vanishing, swallowed back into the silver sheen of the mirror as if they’d never been there. She backed away, her heart thudding. Her hands clenched against the foam of her mittens. Her first thought was, Mistress, this was a game, a planted illusion—something to confuse her, destabilize her, and fray her edges further. But the message… it hadn’t felt like her voice. Her walker creaked again as she turned, scanning the walls. Everything still looked the same. Sarah, Finn, and Maria were still bent over the screen, too focused on their findings to notice anything else. But Ivy’s eyes caught a sliver of light tucked into the seam between two floor panels nearby—barely more than a crack. She rolled closer, heart thudding. There, nestled in the seam, something had been slipped beneath the flooring. A scrap of paper. She reached for it, fumbling with her mittened hands, gritting her teeth in frustration until she managed to pinch it just enough to pull it free. Then, with jerky, imprecise motions, she unfolded it. Childish handwriting in crayon. The kind that pretended to be playful but couldn't hide the urgency in its shakiness. We see you. We’re trying. Stay strong. Mommy & Daddy love you. All chapters are posted in full. However, if you'd like a sneak peek at the next chapter, it's available right now on my website: solarascott.com Or, consider checking out my SubscribeStar for early access and for other exclusive content! https://subscribestar.adult/solarascott Ohhh but the twists are far from over

Hi and welcome to DD. Nice to meet you, glad to have you join us. Come in, grab a high chair, make yourself at home. Lots of good likeminded people here. Relax, have fun, and enjoy!

<Pipeline Failure! -> Human Rewrite: Failure! Too Inexperienced --> Human Deduction: Story is Wayyy too fast-paced! It's at breakneck speed! Be a small snail! --> Character development: Redundant! Generic! Puppets! Bland!> <Suggestion: Slow Burn Forge! : Construct the Bones! --> Build the Flesh! --> Infuse the Human Soul!> New Order! This story will used as Outline for the Human Rewrite!

interesting can you imagine if this takes off what the cost of those diapers will be

To quote from the opening post in this thread: "Stories MAY contain underage characters so long as they are not included in sexual situations or descriptions."

Just the big box of bricks and parts.

I cheered for the professor too. And by my count, it is only 1 more.

PUL pants are good for containing drips/leaks but they do smell a lot after getting wet, I use them nightly over my cloth diapers, and if the diaper becomes soaked, the PUL covers are in need of a very good wipe out in the morning with a soapy cloth which works for only a few cycles, and than into the washer. I like pads for the day as not only do they absorb the wet and keep your skin dry, but most do a great job of preventing odor!

Chapter 19 Kendra drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she sat in a red light and replayed the conversation with her supervisor in her head, “They’re gone, you said there was no sign of abuse. You’re basically telling me that a kid got lost and his caregiver found him and took him home. Kendra you’ve got real issues to deal with.” The supervisor didn’t seem to care that the 12 year old was being treated like a toddler. It just didn’t sit right, but still her supervisor was right, it was 6PM, she’d already worked too long today. As the right turned green Kendra couldn’t seem to stop herself, she switched to the left lane to swing by Martha’s house again, it wasn’t that far out of the way. She parked along the street and watched the house, the lights were on. Martha’s car was gone, and it looked like no one was home. Kendra leaned back in her seat, the engine still idling. Maybe she’d just sit for a minute. It wasn’t surveillance if she didn’t take notes. Just… curiosity. She scanned the porch. The same mismatched chairs. A small wind chime tinkling above the doorway. Nothing unusual. No signs of a child. No toys.. But something tugged at her. She was about to drive off when movement caught her eye. From down the street a silver Subuaru easing into the driveway of Martha Delgado’s house. Two women got out. Kendra straightened up, squinting through the windshield. The first woman was unmistakable, Linda, the boys caretaker. The blond hair, the posture. She carried herself lightly. The second woman was older, Martha Delgado. Kendra’s stomach turned. So Martha had lied. That part was clear. The “Linda moved away” story had been a cover. But why? And what else was she hiding? They didn’t go into Martha’s house but walked down to the next house, where the lights were on. They didn’t knock, they walked in. She took a deep breath, then reached for her phone. She didn’t dial anyone. Instead, she opened the notes app and tapped out a single line: 6:12 PM –Martha and Linda seen returning home. Entered residence at 412 Cherry st. Linda has not moved away. Kendra stared at the screen a moment longer, then locked her phone and sat quietly, watching the front door like it might reveal a secret if she just waited long enough. 5 minutes passed, should she go to the door at 6:30? No. But she would be back, she said as she drove home. *** “So you really had a good time?” Linda asked as Daniel sat on the couch and Jim sat on the floor putting a Paw Patrol puzzle together. “Yeah, it was fine, it’s weird because like most of the time he’s a kid, but sometimes he says something witty or something a much older kid would say. He really seems to enjoy just being a kid though. But you guys really met with a mobster? Is this safe?” “It’s really the only choice we have,” Martha said. “The truth is that we have to move, we’ve been hiding in our own community, Jim and I have lived here over ten years, we both have connections here. Really we’ve been lucky so far, but something like that social worker is bound to happen. The only way we can be safe is to have new identities and start a new life somewhere.” Linda said. Daniel nodded, “I guess if what I think is happening actually happens I’ll need a new ID as well.” Linda smiled, “That’s not going to take underworld contacts, just a trip to the DMV.” Martha chuckled, “Not in this state, Florida won’t allow gender changes. It’s not exactly a hotbed of progressive politics.” Daniel frowned and pulled out his phone to research, “In Wisconsin all I have to do is go to the DMV and change it,” he said after a moment. “Well,” Linda said, sipping from her mug, “if we’re picking a new place to disappear to, maybe Wisconsin isn’t such a bad idea.” Daniel looked up from his phone. “Wait, are you serious? We’re from Wisconsin?” “We’re serious about needing to leave,” Martha said, gently but firmly. “Where we go depends on a lot. Schools, medical access, cost of living, weather… But honestly? The idea of settling somewhere you can build a new life without legal hurdles sounds better every minute. Staying here is impossible, Linda’s scared to go grocery shopping and if she needs to prove who she or Jim is, the shit’s going to hit the fan.” “Yeah,” Daniel murmured, then added softly, “Making a new life feels like it could actually work.” Jim looked up from his puzzle and smiled. “Are we going to get a big moving truck? I like those.” Linda ruffled his hair. “We’ll see, sweetheart. It might be a secret move, like spies.” “Spy truck,” Jim nodded, satisfied. Daniel chuckled, but there was a flicker of tension in his eyes. “Do you think I can really… live like this? I mean, as Briella?” “Well if you’re as popular online as you say you are, I’m sure you can do it in real life,” Martha said. Daniel blushed and looked away. “It’s just streaming.” “I don’t really get this stuff, but it seems like it's how you’re connecting to the world,” Linda said. “And more importantly, how you’re connecting to yourself. Don’t underestimate that.” They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything they’d been through, and everything coming, settling on the room. “Well Danny, how would you feel about hanging around for awhile? We are going to need your baby sitting services again.” Martha said. “I can stay here for a while, help with packing, look after Jim if you need to make that second trip to pick up the documents. I want to help.” “Great, because in a week we’ll be gone overnight, and that means you’ll be Jim’s full time caregiver for a couple days. Ready to become “Aunty Daniel?” Daniel smirked, then rubbed his temples. “Ugh, don’t say it like that.” “You’ll be great,” Linda added with a smile. “You already know his routine, and he really seems to like you.” “Yeah, but it’s a lot,” he said, glancing over at Jim who was now trying to put a Paw Patrol puzzle piece into his mouth. “I mean, he’s not exactly low-maintenance.” “We know,” Martha said, standing to clear her mug. “But you’ve been doing amazing. You seem to be accepting what’s happening to you. I think the universe sent you here for a reason.” Daniel gave a sarcastic snort. “Yeah, to turn me into a streamer princess and a glorified babysitter.” Jim looked up. “Are you going to dress like a princess, Aunty Daniel?” Daniel’s face went bright red. “He did not just say that.” Linda and Martha both burst into laughter. “Well,” Linda said, trying to suppress a giggle, “if the shoe fits…” Daniel sighed theatrically, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “You’re all insane. But fine. I’ll stay. I’ll babysit. And I’ll even consider letting him call me Aunt Daniel if he keeps the puzzle pieces out of his mouth.” Jim grinned. “Auntie Daniel makes the best snacks!” Martha clapped her hands. “Then it’s settled.” The mood lifted a bit, for the first time in a while. Outside, the sky darkened, but inside the little house, the strange new family was starting to come together, tentatively, awkwardly, but maybe just enough to get through what was coming.

I love LEGO City. It's one of my favourite things hands down. Then, probably Marvel and Star Wars are in second place, equal.

Granny looks at the silly girl with ice cream on her cheeks and chin and giggles. "So you dont wanna hang out with grandma and grandpa tomorrow while your home?" She says giggling.

The lady starts hushing the little girl as they make there way thru the zoo toward the bus parking area. Kids and adults a like all watch and comment, some kids giggle about the girl who seems to be having a heard day or throwing a fit. Finally they make it back to the bus. Ms. Stone takes the sobbing girl. Thank you Ms.Linda for finding the poor dear. I'll get her all fixed up." Ms. Stone rocks and hushes the girl gently. "Sweetheart I'm going to get you all fixed up ok? I'll make it all better then we can talk." Ms. Stone says with a smile that could melt steel with hiw sweet it is.

May I suggest wearing Polyurethane pants between you trousers and what ever underwear you use. It is breathable, so almost un-noticeable in hot weather and body heat dries out even quite large "dribbles".

here´s a poll for some story ideas I have

I’m looking to get to know some friends and/or potentially gonna play partner. I’m fairly new to the abdl world but I know a lot and have been practicing it a bit. I love meeting new people so I’d please shoot me a message. I’m in the La area btw. Also I’m straight so I’m looking for woman or afab ppl only. I’m open to talking to both cg’s and little, although I’m more of a little myself, I’m open to swapping.

Ordered a few days ago the SenecaSense Starter Kit, got the order confirmation and the money has been drawn from my paypal account, have not got any sending confirmation soo will wait until middle off next week before i send them an email and request some more info

Not even 4AM and I am up and wide awake. Payback for sleeping yesterday I suppose. Wearing a slightly-wet pull-up (Carewell Overnight) and playing Warcraft.

really glad I came across this I personally don't like that it´s a must for stories to have to be 18+ characters I like including underage and having underage characters take charge over grown ups and as I´ve said before love ideas of regression considering starting a new story where an underaged will be the min focus well tbh most of my story ideas are like that

So like that, all fuilds can go on the outer one and be absorbed by the booster

I loved this post!😃 I wanted to organise a three-day captivity experience for four people, involving bondage and restraint. (A festive meal was planned for the last evening.) During this stay, I would have been the ‘kidnapper’ (mean or nice depending on the profiles). I received dozens of requests, BUT only one person showed up. In reality, only one real enthusiast among dozens of fantasists. Sorry, the comment on the image is in French. It's a fake ransom demand. The man hanging was a friend.