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Such a Good Diaperboy© Public Domain
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Chapter 1: For Her Good I will add the story here as I can. Full story already available here: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AFictionalPhile and https://www.deviantart.com/afictionalphile/gallery/91841094/for-her-good-15-chapters The problem was that she had three roommates. Yet, Sir always said that never being alone was for her good. Sir said it just like that, in a text message, in response to her worrying. Sir said that life goes on. Sir said that... I will not bury the lead. I will not sugarcoat it. Consent culture rightly necessitates that I lay this more bare than anything. We are trying to change your life. Remind yourself once again, Mari. Are we entering this agreement purely for sensation? It was conversations like these that made Mari blush more than the details of their agreement. Sir's language stripped Mari like she'd brought a bomb through TSA. Sir had so effectively undressed her fantasies and fears, in these months, Sir had so quickly probed and unwound her proclivities, that she still felt like a child going to a parent with something as trivial as a hopelessly knotted shoelace. Except that in the case of Sir, she'd shown up presenting her tangled up psyche. Sir had unraveled her problems just the same. Sir had found her mental G-spot with the precision and command of an award-winning chiropractor. Sir never had to say things like: You will cum for me now. Instead Sir would just say: ahhh...that got you there, didn't it? And Sir, as if they were in Mari's head and not in her phone, would always be right. Big girls would respond with more than just emojis, wouldn't they? Sir's presence was digital yet encompassing. Texted but seemingly scriptural. No manager, professor, teacher, or other esteemed individual in her life had so thoroughly outclassed her. She was a rowboat bobbing beside a cruise ship, when Sir's messages crowned her phone banner. Never before had she been so blissfully cowed. Nothing crossed her mind that Sir had not thought of first. No mental caverns existed that Sir could not, with just a few whispers, lead her out of. I understand what you mean. Know this. You are the brave one. You are facing who you are. Take your sense of unworthiness, Mari. Let us say that you're the fuckup. The dropout, the girl with the dead end job. The under-performer. Let's pretend that your three roommates are indeed smarter, better grown-ups than you. Let us say that you've screwed up every relationship you've been in because you're a needy crybaby. Let's own that, Mari. Let's ball it up – put it in a diaper. Change it often enough and it won't leak. If we do this, perhaps none of your faults will leak into your worthiness either. *** A few days before the beginning of her agreement, the first cardboard box (Sir said that there would be very many), lay unopened beside her bed. The box was tucked between her bedside table and the closet, wedged in the space so that she could not even exit her bed to that side without crushing it. It stood out little among the messiness of her room – another token of fuckupery that even Sir did not know about. Even her roommates called her Monster Mari for the way underwear, socks, and clothes were piled on the floor. At her best, she told herself that it was organized. That there was a method to Monster Mari. At her worst, she knew the panties were going in a shoebox, destined for the mail. For Your Good. Just days away from the beginning of her agreement. Sir's last question burned on the phone. Is this thing we are about to do purely sensational? She shot off a message. "No Sir," she said. She knew it was a little girl's answer, and that Sir wouldn't be pleased. Sir was going to coach her through her fears, once again, and in the end Sir would be right. Mari rolled over and groaned. Sir had owned her orgasms almost since they'd begun messaging. She'd almost begged Sir to take them; without prompting, one night when they were first messaging each other. Before diapers and all that took over their DMs. She'd just asked for permission, Sir ignored it. She'd asked again, hot, her fingers moving fast. The question had prompted another lecture from Sir – one of the hottest things she'd ever experienced. Sir would do no half measures. Sir played no games. Permission now is meaningless without a totality, Mari. And I won't get into something so serious, so flippantly. That night, she'd wanted it. "Can I?" she asked. Again and again. Mari. You can do whatever you like tonight. We can have a serious conversation about it, and I would like to. But we will not have it now. They'd had that conversation just a few days later. Mari, for all her distractibility, for all her reprimands at work for not being on the phones long enough, for not working as hard as she could be, had never been more focused on a thing in her life. Selling her pussy to Sir was a divine urgency; it was the only thing that could get her heart to stop beating through her ribs. She sat on calls at work, at her desk in her Monster Mari room, one hand constantly between her thighs. I have a standard for this, Mari. This isn't my first rodeo. You will only cum with my permission. When I command you to go to your room to play and cum, you will do so. I will not ask when this would be disruptive. Though it may not be what you want, I will always ask For Your Good. Honesty is up to you. You can have sex with any person and any outcome is acceptable, so long as you report it to me afterwards. The last part always struck her as odd. Almost disappointing. She was hoping at least for something savage. Anal chastity, the purchase of some grotesque implement to rail herself on camera. It took her months to test Sir's nugget of freedom. When she returned to Sir with reports of a cocktail-soaked conquest, she was surprised about how happy Sir was for her. "Aren't you...I used YOUR pussy like that? You know?" Use big girl words. "Aren't you jealous?" I get to talk to you as much as I do. You don't know who I am. I have no right to feel jealous. And least of all no cause. I'm proud of you. "But it's YOUR pussy and I just...used it..." It was a guy, right? And he fucked you? "Yah. It wasn't, like, amazing. But yeah." And did he cum inside of you? This sort of question, with anyone else, would have made her roll her eyes. But with Sir it piqued her. She was once again disrobed with a text and it took great discipline for her to not respond with an emoji. "Well...in a condom. But yeah." That's what pussies are for, Mari. I am like an underwriter for your car, if you had one. I would not be displeased if you drove your car. I would, however, like to know if you were spinning donuts in a parking lot with it. Think of it this way. Your pussy doesn't belong to me. Rather, it simply does not belong to you. We do not live in a world where a public pillory to display your entries is safe or acceptable. But know this. The world is a better place when you have been mounted and used. In the same way that the world is better when food is eaten and not left to spoil, just so I hope that those who want to enter you, may. It is the same with your eventual diapering. When the day comes, Mari. You are not giving up your adulthood. You are simply accepting that everyone – everyone – is more adult than you. She remembered thinking about this for a while, and almost forgetting to ask for permission. "Will this be the case when I'm in diapers?" Yes, of course. "Will I get an exception for my diapers when it comes to...sex?" Do you want an exception? "No..." Then why does a little girl ask this question?
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Chapter 1 I came across the ad on a site I used to market my services. I had finished university with a decent degree, but struggled to get a well paid job and had slipped into ‘escort’ work through a friend who was in the same line of 'business'. I gradually started to specialise in kinkier aspects of the scene: partly because the money was better but also because the customers were, on the whole, nicer. I was doing okay, but the ad certainly caught my interest. “Well remunerated, long-term contract for a petit young woman with an interest in submissive role/age play.” I ticked all the boxes. I was only 5’1”, slim and an A cup bra size. I certainly had a preference for the submissive role and had quite extensive experience as a sub. Not so much on age-play, but the thought of it didn’t bother me at all. I called the number and a female voice answered. “Hello. This is Marie, can I help you?” “I’m calling about the advert for a young woman” I replied. “Ah, excellent. What’s your name?” I told her that my name was Louise Howe. “And what’s your current position?” I gave an outline of my current circumstances in terms of work, accommodation, personal life and location. Marie took it all on board and, when she felt the phone call had gone as far as it could, gave me a web link to send a few photos, “just regular pics - no need for nudes - but make sure there’s at least a couple of full length shots”. The next step, assuming my photos passed muster, would be an interview and selection process which would take three days in a location to be advised. I was told that all expenses would be taken care of and a fee paid for my time. The fee suggested was more than I’d earn in a month, so I had no hesitation in confirming my interest. She said I’d hear one way or the other in a couple of days and that was that. After finishing the call I poured a glass of red wine and thought about what had transpired. Marie had seemed nice, her tone had been very matter-of-fact - I could have been applying for a position as an accounts clerk. There was nothing to put me off so I sent off a few recent pics with the details she had asked for and then it was back to work, checking my messages on the adultwork website. A message was waiting from a man in London on business, staying at the Savoy Hotel. He was looking for a submissive and had left a mobile number. I rang the number and he answered straight away. He said he was at the hotel and was ready for a session right now. Charing Cross was about fifteen minutes on the tube so I said I could be there in about half an hour. He agreed my rates and gave me his name, Simon, and room number. He said to go through to the American Bar and call him when there. Before calling off he asked that I wore modest dress, but with a fairly short skirt and I was happy to inform him I’d not need to change! I have to admit that I was feeling pretty good on my journey in. The American Bar is, if a little pricey, fabulous and, with the best cocktails in London, I was hoping for a drink before we got down to business. On arriving in the bar I gave him a call. He was sat at the bar and waved at me as his phone rang. He looked like a nice guy, probably mid-50s, smartly dressed. He offered me a drink and I ordered a Coffee Black Velvet and then we moved to a more private table. After asking about my trip in it was down to business. He said that he wanted me to be his baby for the evening. I’d be wearing and using nappies and, as a baby, have no ‘agency’ at all. I’d be at the mercy of him as my daddy with the backup of a safe word. If I was comfortable with this he’d pay me for an overnight session. If not we’d have a one-hour session and he’d pay me for two hours. I’d had some experience with the adult baby scene before and it had always been fun, so I agreed to the overnight session. We finished our drinks and I went with him to his room. A “Do Not Disturb” sign was hung from his door handle and as we entered the room I could see why. There were packs of nappies, baby bottles, dummies, and clothes. A changing mat was on the bed and there was a cot in a corner of the room. “I told them that my wife and baby daughter might be here this evening, so they made a cot up for me”. I had to admire his preparations. “Time for your nappy, Louise”.
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I'm asking this because I've done this before and will do so again. Has anyone else done this and if so what are your experiences.
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He Love His Diapees So Much!© Public Domain
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Everyone's Gonna See How Much Of a Diaperfag You Are© Public Domain
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Diaper To Bab Ratio On Point© Public Domain
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Boy can't close his legs© Public Domain
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Does This Onesie Make My Diapee Look Big
Little Diaperfag posted a gallery image in Adult Diapers Gallery
Not Too Noticeable, Right? RIGHT!?!?© Public Domain
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Marshall Gives Da Best Cuddles, Too UwU© Public Domain
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Looks Like Its Changing Time!© Public Domain
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Don't Worry, He's Potty Trained...© Public Domain
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Can You Tell?© Public Domain
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© Public Domain
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Thick Diapers and High Tops Are The Best!
Little Diaperfag posted a gallery image in Adult Diapers Gallery
No Pants Required...© Public Domain
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Peekabu! Everyone Sees Youuu!© Public Domain
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Boy Cleans Up So Nice!© Public Domain
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And a Little Fag, Too© Public Domain
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Don't Be Ashamed Of Your Diapers! Show Them Off!© Public Domain
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We Flawless, Babies Tell 'Em© Public Domain
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It's Better That Way© Public Domain
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You Won't Tell Anyone, Right?© Public Domain
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I Think You Need a Change Kiddo...© Public Domain
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Best Combo Evarrr!© Public Domain
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How Bout a Snoof© Public Domain
