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Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My experience earlier this year of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! This story won't be quite as long as my last 2 stories, and will have more sexual content (in addition to lots of diapers!) ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The warm afternoon sunlight poured gently through the front window of Dana’s house, filtered through white lace curtains that danced with the subtle breeze from an open window. Dust motes twinkled in the beams of golden light like tiny fireflies, catching on the floral patterns of the throw pillows and the embroidered stitching on the plush loveseat cushions. The living room was cozy—elegant but motherly. The wallpaper was soft peach with faded white roses, and the carpet was thick and pastel cream. The furniture, a matching set of high-backed chairs and a low loveseat, was upholstered in a faded floral pattern and edged with piping. Several knitted throws were draped across the arms, and there were hand-framed cross-stitches on the walls with sayings like “Home is where Mommy is” and “Snuggle first, questions later.” But all of this faded into the background next to what dominated the center of the room: a truly massive playpen. It was custom-built, nearly taking up the center third of the space. The sides were a full five feet high—clearly built not to contain a toddler, but someone much larger. Made from white-painted wood slats and soft mesh, it had rounded corners capped with pastel bumpers and vinyl padding adorned with little cartoon animals. The gate had a double-latch system, and a safety sign above it read: “Mommy’s Little One at Play — Do Not Disturb.” Inside, there was a thick, pink quilted floor mat dotted with letters of the alphabet and big smiling animals. Cushioned bolsters lined the edges. The space was filled with oversized infant toys: giant plush building blocks, a set of plastic stacking rings the size of dinner plates, a rubbery xylophone with a soft mallet, teething beads, rattles, and more stuffed animals than a toy store display. And sitting in the middle of this wonderland, utterly absorbed, was Dana’s husband. Or rather, her baby girl. She was dressed head to toe in an exaggerated, frilly baby girl outfit. A bright pink satin baby dress with puffed sleeves and delicate lace edging flared out above a pair of bulging, obviously soaked diapers. The skirt had layers of ruffles, and when she moved—even slightly—it revealed flashes of her thick, triple-padded bottom, sealed tightly in white plastic panties printed with pastel bows and hearts. White tights stretched tightly over her legs, their fabric bulging around the thick padding, and ended in satin booties with soft soles and ribbons that tied in bows around her ankles. A matching bonnet framed her smooth, freshly shaved face. Her cheeks were red and flushed with excitement, her lips locked around a huge pacifier that bobbed rhythmically as she babbled and clutched a purple elephant plush to her chest. “She’s been at it all morning,” Dana said with quiet affection, glancing at the playpen as she smoothed her skirt. “Hasn’t gotten bored once. Just play, giggle, drool, and repeat.” Patricia, who sat across from her old friend with a cup of tea in her hand, could hardly take her eyes off the sight. “My God, Dana” she murmured. “That’s that’s really him?” Dana chuckled. “Her, darling. She’s not your boring old neighbor anymore. She’s Mommy’s little Angel now. All baby. All the time.” “I mean wow,” Patricia breathed, watching the baby girl crawl clumsily across the playmat, her thick diaper forcing her legs apart, making every motion a waddle or a crawl. “You weren’t exaggerating. This is” She searched for the word. Dana supplied it. “Liberation,” she said simply. The baby squealed with glee, having successfully smacked her hand down onto a rubbery, musical pad that responded with a tinny rendition of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.” She bounced in place, drool leaking from the corner of her mouth around the pacifier bulb. “She wants this?” Patricia asked, brows knitting. “More than anything,” Dana said. “She asked for it first, remember? And the more we gave into it, the more she slipped into it. At first it was just evenings. Then weekends. I think we both realized she was meant for this. The more I took control, the more I cared for her like my baby, the more she flourished. Now? Full time. No words, no thinking, no stress. Just babble, diapers, toys, Mommy.” “And you’re okay with it?” Patricia asked, studying her friend. “I mean, this is it’s so far beyond what I imagined.” Dana smiled and adjusted the strap of her bra subtly beneath her blouse. “I’m more than okay. I’m fulfilled. I get to love and nurture someone who needs me completely. And she gets to feel safe. Totally helpless. Totally adored.” The baby flopped onto her tummy, arms splayed wide, rattle clutched in one mittened hand. She babbled contentedly, pacifier bobbing in rhythm. Patricia tilted her head. “She doesn’t talk? At all?” Dana shook her head. “Only baby sounds now. She lost her last words about three months ago. She might try to say ‘Mama’ sometimes, or ‘ba-ba’ when she’s hungry. But that’s it. We’ve got her completely regressed.” “Can she stand?” Patricia asked, unable to look away as the baby tried—and failed—to pull herself up on the side of the playpen, only to giggle and fall back onto a pile of plush animals. “She can stand if I help her,” Dana said proudly. “But she usually crawls or scoots. We’ve encouraged helplessness. Weak motor skills. It keeps her safe.” Patricia blinked. “And the diapers?” “Fully dependent,” Dana said with a gentle nod. “She doesn’t know when she goes anymore. She just does. Pee-pee, messy—whatever her little tummy needs. And she gets changed when Mommy checks.” There was a long pause as Patricia processed. “And she doesn’t mind?” “She loves it,” Dana said, placing a hand over her chest. “Sweetheart, she lives for it. The crinkling. The warm wetness. The thick waddle. Being totally, utterly unable to control anything. She doesn’t even try anymore.” “She’s really gone that far,” Patricia whispered, in awe. “I wouldn’t say ‘gone,’” Dana replied gently. “I’d say she’s home.” The baby girl was now chewing on a giant pink ring toy, her eyes wide and unfocused, giggling as she rotated it in her clumsy hands. She hummed softly, lost in her own world. Dana shifted again in her seat, subtly pressing her forearm into her chest. Patricia noticed. “You keep fidgeting. You okay?” Dana winced slightly and nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little full. I haven’t nursed her since breakfast, and my breasts are ready.” Patricia blinked. “You mean you feed her? Like—” Dana smiled gently. “Yes. I nurse her myself. Every day. Several times a day.” “Does she does she get milk?” “She does,” Dana said softly. “My supply came in months ago. It was a long journey, but we stuck to it. And now she’s getting all her nutrition from Mommy.” Patricia sat back, eyes wide. “And she just drinks from you? Every time?” “As often as she needs,” Dana replied. “It keeps her calm. She falls asleep nursing sometimes. It's one of the few moments she’s still.” Dana shifted again. “Actually, if you don’t mind would it be alright if I fed her now? I’m starting to feel it might leak if I wait much longer.” Patricia hesitated, then slowly nodded. “If you’re okay with doing it in here.” Dana stood up and smiled. “Of course. She’s used to feeding wherever Mommy is.” She walked to the playpen and knelt at the gate, undoing the double latches with soft clicks. “Come to Mommy, sweetheart. Time for your milkies.” The baby squealed with joy, her pacifier falling to the side as she crawled quickly—if clumsily—out of the playpen. Her diaper sagged visibly, clearly soaked, but she moved with happy enthusiasm, giggling as she followed her Mommy. Dana sat on the couch and patted her lap. “Come on up, baby. Let Mommy hold you.” The baby-girl crawled up, turned, and laid her head in Dana’s lap, her bonnet lopsided, her mittened hands grasping the front of Dana’s blouse. With gentle motions, Dana unbuttoned her top and revealed a cream-colored nursing bra. She pulled down the cup on one side, exposing a heavy, swollen breast, the nipple already beading slightly with milk. Patricia’s mouth went slightly dry as she stared. Dana looked up. “Still okay?” Patricia nodded. “Yes. I’m I’m curious, honestly.” Dana guided her baby’s mouth to her breast. “Here you go, my little one. Drink up.” The baby latched eagerly, letting out a soft moan of pleasure as she suckled hungrily. Dana cradled her with practiced arms, her expression softening as she let out a sigh of relief. “Ohhh there we go,” she whispered. “Mommy’s little feeder. You were so hungry, weren’t you?” Patricia stared, fascinated. “She really knows what to do.” “She’s been nursing for months,” Dana said, stroking the baby’s hair. “It’s instinctual now. And it soothes her. It soothes me, too. I feel her relax with every swallow.” The baby suckled noisily, tiny hands fidgeting with the lace on Dana’s blouse as her eyes fluttered half-closed in dreamy bliss. “I didn’t understand before,” Patricia said slowly. “But now I think I’m starting to.” Dana looked down at her baby and smiled, full of maternal pride. “She’s not playing baby,” she said. “She IS a baby. My baby. And Mommy is here to take care of her. Forever.”

I am curious about other diapered sissy babies thoughts on this. I have a friend who always has me hold him so he can pee into my diaper before I pleasure him. Fortunately he is vey careful not to soil my petticoats and pretty dress, Has anyone ever done this? If not, would anyone else like it done to them. Personally I like it in the front of my diapers. It feels so warm and it kind of tickles my sissy stick. Giggle

Dear Diapered Friends Who are a Young Adults (18+) or an Adult Baby (21+) or a bit of both or Just a Diaper Lover or someone looking for a caregiver , I would like to know in this topic of discussion that if there are a private adoption for those who are a teen-baby or an adult-baby or just someone who is a diaper lover but needs a real caregiver. Hopefully in this topic of discussion would shed a light for those who are seeking a private adoption of these kind. I have heard in several diaper chat rooms that there's been a successful adoption of teenage children up to an adult age being adopted by someone legally and lived in their homes to get taken care of and some even migrate from overseas to get taken care of. If this were true it will be a dream come true for some individuals who cannot live in their own homes while wanting to wear diapers and being taken care of and needs. Nevertheless they mentioned something about the issue of trust. Some must show themselves in either to gain full trust to live in someone's home to be taken care of. Although this may sound too good to be true but in fact it is real that has happen out there in the open. For those teenagers who felt miserable because they are not allowed to wear diapers in their own homes because they don't need to. But if there is someone who would adopt this young teenagers they will move into a good home where they can fully support into their life style in diapers. Some of these teenagers would have to deal with it if they are forbidden to wear diapers in their own home. For those lucky teenagers that found a good home where they can be adopted to wear diapers all the time everyday then that is very good. This goes the same with some young to an adult diaper wearer. Sometimes they want not just a role-playing Mommy or Daddy or a Fetish Sugar Mommy or a Fetish Sugar Daddy who would pay for their full time diaper desire. Once again if those young adult to the full grown diaper wearer who have found these generous care givers I would like to congratulate them on their new life style. So my point is. Are there any real Mommy or Daddy or them Fetish Sugar Mommy or the Fetish Sugar Daddy type who wish to care for some one please go show yourself here. It will be a dream comes true if this will help some of those to live in a true an everyday daily lifestyle of a true diaper wearer without having to role-play in their secluded fantasy world. You will be living in your dreams to the maximum point until it is hard to go back to your previous non diaper life style. Whilst sexual intercourse is not necessary or maybe prohibited unless there are agreements by each individuals. This doesn't have to related with any sexual preference to it. I hope this topic of discussion would help a bit to inspire others who will be ready to offer themselves to care for others. You can open a classified about yourself to advertise it in the Diaper Forums saying that you are willing to do it. Let this be an eye opener to some who are ready willing to do so. Technically I'm looking for someone to say something to start this topic of discussion so it will lead into positive results for the Diaper Wearers to go out in the open freely without the burden of waiting to feel good about themselves. By starting small from families to families then the diaper communities will start to open more, from a closed up diaper venues there could be bigger events, hopefully there will be a Diaper Island like place then soon if things grows bigger there will be a DIAPER COUNTRY soon - although this is just another fantasy for ours to be kept in here - who agrees who disagree. Thank you for reading this topic - hopefully this topic will be helpful for the others - forgive me if my grammar is bad because there are many Grammar Nazi out there but I'm just decliningly slow due to a lots of daily stress I often had which leads to an uncertain light depression that made me a little more scribbly when I type. Take care all. Please respond here for the others to read about.