(Just fyi- this is fictional and the character doesn’t exist. I’ve seen a few sites where people write about their experiences with different kinks, including ABDL and diaper punishment, and this is meant to mimic that. Its not a real letter. Also, all spelling and grammar mistakes are obviously just part of the narrator’s character)
I really wish I didn’t have to post it here, but Daddy insisted I have to tell someone as part of my punishment, and this seems like the right place, so…
Please know that this isn’t entirely forced. I wish I could sat it was, but Daddy insists I remind everyone first that this is all MY choice. I have the right to walk out, to renegotiate my punishment, or to just use our safety word and be done. However, I let it happen because, as Daddy insists I write, deep down I know it is good for me. This part is supposed to make the rest better, but somehow it only makes me blush even deeper. It would be one thing if I could pretend I thought it was all insane and it was forced on me, but the truth is far worse and far more humiliating. The truth is I know I need it and Daddy is right. Still, he let me change my name so internet creepers don’t’ find it, so there.
This is the story of how I ended up being my Daddy’s diapered sub.
It all started a few weeks ago. I was in my normal position- bent over my Daddy’s lap, belt undone and pants around my ankles, and wailing as he reinforced the importance of obedience upon my backside. My crime that night was minor. After promising to do the dishes as he was out, I instead left them to play video games. However, it was only one after a long list of similar instances. Arriving late, not doing chores, refusing to obey Daddy’s commands, all of which piled up. Worse still was the excuse. As often with these cases, I hadn’t been distracted by anything important or just ran out of time, I had neglected my duty to play childish games.
It isn’t like I have too much to do. It isn’t like he makes me do all the house work or it is unfairly divided. We both get our fair share of chores and talk evenly about who does what, the difference is he is mature enough to do them and I am not. I need a firm hand, and right now that firm hand was spanking me hard.
I was crying and counting the spanks as he taunted me. “What a naughty little girl you are!” “I can’t believe you’re such a brat!” “Do I have to spank you every day just to get you to behave?” - all the regular things every S&M sub has heard their doms say a million times, and rightfully so. That is when he hit me with something I didn’t expect.
I was desperately shouting out my normal replies of “yes Daddy”, “no daddy” and “please daddy I’m sorry!” when he said it. “If you keep acting like a little baby I’ll put you in diapers and be done with it.”
My mouth hung open enough. Did I hear him right? I shouted out “No daddy please not diapers!”, hoping he didn’t notice the pause. If he did… I knew this wouldn’t end well for me or my bottom, and much, much less so for my pride.
That pause was enough. He went on taunting me with the idea dragging it out as he slowed his spanks, leaving me whining more about the threat then the pain. When he was done, he turned me over and sat me on his lap. I still remember what would end up being a faithful sentence for me, told with a finger shaking under my nose, “Next time you behave like this, you’ll spend a month in diapers.” I could barely muster up a “Yes Daddy” before being sent to the corner to think about what I had done, with the added twist of being ordered to suck my thumb as a “warning.” As I stood there, blushing, sucking my thumb, bottom red and aching, and crying like the baby I soon would be for him, my mind barely drifted to “What I had done.” Instead, all I could picture was Daddy standing over me, strong and powerful slowly taking out a diaper and taping it on me, ordering me to crawl… me helpless and small, entirely reliant on him, treated as if I was incompetent in the most basic things… I wish could say all I felt was dread.
The second time was barely a week later. The crime: Daddy coming home late to an uncooked meal, expensive meat now spoiled and destined for the trash, and me playing the same video game. My cheeky reply “I guess you’ll have to order me pizza” probably only added to my spanking that time. (for the record, Daddy ordered Chinese. I hate Chinese )
This time, the spanking was hard and enthusiastic, but ended far sooner then I expected. I remember laying across his lap as his hand slowed, wondering what came next. That is when I felt him lean forward over me and open his laptop, and remembered his threat.
“NO!” I shouted, but he ignored me and shushed me with a spank. I heard him typing and looked to see a colorful banner. These weren’t the “diapers” I was picturing. These weren’t the basically-underwear-but-a-bit-thicker depends I had dreaded. These were far worse.
Any of you ever heard of “ABU?” Imagine the feeling of being a non-ABDL sub, being told you were to be given diaper punishment, and looking to see THAT website on your dom’s screen. Imagine reading their descriptions, the playful and teasing descriptions about “some babies are shy” and helping them “Stay dry longer,” or annoyingly alliterative “Pristine pink padding” for the “prettiest littles” WITHOUT it being your kink, all the while knowing those cute prints will end up decorating your behind whether you want it or not. He went through page after page advertising cartoon printed diapers, selecting four, (why do they need to have a sale at FOUR freaking cases?!) which I have since come to know by name after many “You have 15 seconds to crawl upstairs and come back with X” commands: Cushies, Peek ABU, BunnyHops, and, mercifully, the plain white ABU Simple. He added a “diapersuit” (re: a baby onesie sized for an adult) and, to top it off, a big pink pacifier from another site ("for when grown ups need the baby to be quiet). He also told me that the two sets of footed onesie pajamas I owned would be getting a lot more use. To drive the point home, he made me reach over to the mouse and click the “purchase” button myself
I was then sent to the corner again, bottom slightly less achy, but face far more red.
It was like fate when it arrived. I had almost forgotten about the diapers… as well as a dinner date with Daddy. I helped myself to a splurge and the mall and came home late to find Daddy waiting with the serious face he got when it was time to dole out punishments.
He grabbed my wrist and spanked my still jean covered bum around in a circle before dragging my up the stairs to our bedroom for my regular spanking. He then stripped me of my pants and underwear completely and sat me on the bed. He told me to wait.
He left. This was a normal trick he played when I knew more punishment was coming. He could have told me then, or moved quicker and got it out of the way, but he wanted me to think and dread. It was during this time that my mind drifted back to the week before and the humiliating purchase… it couldn’t be, could it? I stewed in the knowledge of my oncoming degradation, not wanting to think about it.
He took far more time then was needed. I heard him rummaging around and going to the bathroom. Finally he came in carrying a giant box.
“Guess what came in today?” he said.
“Ice cream?” I asked.
“Guess again,” he said.
“Diapers,” I replied. Barely getting the word out. Even then, I didn’t want to believe it.
He handed me a pair of scissors and ordered me to cut it open, and I did as slowly as I could. I still remember the first hit of the sweet baby powder scent, and how I still told myself it wasn’t happening until I opened it fully and took out the first package of the most humiliating things I have ever worn.
“Get a pink one and lie down on the bed.”
I wanted to argue. I wanted to fight or call the safety word. Most of all I wanted to cry. Instead, I opened a bag, grabbed the rabbit-covered diaper, handed it to daddy, and lay down on the bed. Daddy lay it under me, powdered me, taped it on, and in a few seconds my demotion to diapers was complete. I was completely silent. He stood me up, hugged me and kissed my head, calling me a good girl for letting him diaper me, then sent me to stand in the corner, this time with a pacifier replacing my thumb.
I felt numb. The utter indignity I felt overwhelmed any spanking I felt. I pictured myself going through my day as his diaper slave, wondering who noticed in public, asking for changes (would he demand I ‘use’ it?!).
The rules were simple. At home, I was in printed diapers, with either just a shirt and my diaper exposed or in my appropriately childish onesie and footed pjs. In public I could wear the plain white ABU simple and an outfit he approved- normally the collection of rompers or cute dresses I had. At home I was expected to wet my diaper whenever I needed to then wait to be checked and changed at Daddy’s convenience, in public I could ask to use the bathroom. In either case I could ask to use the toilet for the other thing- Daddy didn’t want to change a messy diaper any more then I wanted to make one. This would go on for a month, assuming good behavior. Daddy emphasized, however, that this could change. Act up, and I could find my diaper changes fewer and farther between, printed diapers and footed pjs becoming “outdoor clothes”, the privilege of not having to wet in public gone, or, worse of all, the privledge of using the toilet for the “other thing” gone. I shuddered thinking of having to crawl to daddy in a messy diaper and ask for THAT to be changed, stinking up the entire hallway behind me. And yes, I said crawl- Daddy emphasized that all “adult” things like walking instead of crawling or feeding myself rather then being spoon fed were “priviledge” that could be revoked at a moments notice. (Daddy likes the word “priviege” to emphasize things he can ban. I can barely spell it.)
After that he made me crawl to my underwear drawer with a garbage bag, empty my regular underwear into them and replace them with four tall stacks of colorful diapers. “Out of site out of mind” Daddy said as he hid the underwear on me and told me I could get them back if I earned them. I stared numbly at him, sitting in my diaper and sucking my pacifier, the most humble, humiliated, and SUBMISSIVE I had ever felt in my life.
During the entire time a new feeling had been coming up. I have always been a sub, and often the strongest feelings I have for Daddy were when his authority over me was most strongly, and most strictly, enforced. This is why I loved his spankings, corner time, being tied up, and all the other things we did. This was an entirely new kind of punishment, and by far the worse. I never even asked for it, it was neither of our kinks, but somehow that just added to it. My head swam with a mix of confusing feelings. It was humiliating in a way I never wanted, but that was also the point. The fact that he could do something so degrading to me that I hadn’t asked for was a thrill, and the fact that my own desire in it didn’t even matter added to it. It reminded me of how much control he had over me that he could do such a thing. Meanwhile, the idea that he would do it, no matter how much I whined and complained and even if it wasn’t his “thing”, just because he knew I needed it was the exact type of comforting I love about S&M. In my head, the thoughts of how off it was was replaced with a chorus of “I need it because Daddy said so,” and even the knowledge that that wasn’t a response an adult should accept was thrilling. (In that way I kind of do get some part of ABs lol) When he had me in his lap, gently rocking me and stroking my hair as he explained my new rules and status to me in a tone reserved for toddlers, asking me to repeat the rules as if I was a child… I never felt more devoted to someone. When he pats my bottom, each pat a reminder of the diapered state of my butt and a check at the same time, my heart jumps a little.
It was later that night that I first experienced the other part of my punishment. I was cuddled in Daddy’s lap watching Tangled (of course it was a Disney movie), sucking my pacifier and wearing my footed pajamas like a good little baby girl. I felt I had to go, and since I am such a well behaved little diapered subby, I knew I couldn’t make the decision on my own and asked Daddy what to do. Of course the idea of his baby girl using the bathroom was out of question. He didn’t ask me to move. He didn’t ask me to leave his lap. He just kept stroking my hair and told me to relax. A little baby like me soaking her diaper in her Daddy’s lap was perfectly acceptable, I wasn’t to worry about leaks or being to gross for Daddy, he’d take care of it and love me no matter what happened. A few minutes later, he was taking a fuzzy headed me by the hand for my first diaper change, and I was so deep in subspace (Daddy says its “littlespace”) that he probably could have told me to walk outside in just my diaper and mess in a mall, and I would without thinking. Of course, he is a responsible Daddy and wouldn’t do such a thing. (Daddy may have made me write certain words here)
Anyway, it is two and a half weeks into my punishment. I’ve gone through piles of diapers, and lying back for Daddy to change me has becoming a common routine. Daddy is a good daddy, and takes care of me well. I started to find myself playing more and more into the role, and when I surprised myself by excitedly asking for baby bottles and a new teddy bear at the mall, it was Daddy who had to tell me to calm down to avoid attention. (He called me a brat but I still got them. HA! Diapered cuteness: 1 Daddy: 0)
(Daddy gave me a spank for the last comment)
The thing is, I realized something else that I didn’t even notice until Daddy mentioned it with a few butt pats as I sat on his lap the other day. This punishment has improved my behavior more so then any before. While I normally only behave until the effects of the last punishment wore off, this one has stuck. I find myself not even considering acting up, and actually wanting to do chores on time, do well at work, follow the rules, and be a good little girl for Daddy. This isn’t to say I’ve become vanilla or lost my own willpower (neither of us would want that). The effectiveness of the punishment and the reliance on Daddy gave a new aspect. Now I want to behave, and only act up when i want a punishment or Daddy’s attention.
(Daddy gave me a spank for that one too)
Meanwhile, the humiliation of it and the threat of exposure, even if I know its imagined, keep me in line. Imagine trying to feel tough and misbehave when you’re standing in a onesie and diaper and know you’ll have to ask your dom for a change later. Try it again after the respond to your arguments with a condescending “Awww is baby upset? Want a buh-buh?” and a pat on the head. Not exactly punk rock.
The worst part is when Daddy had company over. Sometimes he has his other kinky friends come, and the subs basically serve the Doms. Normally that means we wear different kinky leather or latex outfits, or skimpy maids dresses. Imagine my feeling when that applied to everyone, but I had to show off my onesie and diaper instead! Instead of the normal attitudes and comments, they were chuckling and giggling at me. Instead of their normal dom voices they used on the other subs, they cooed at me like I was a five year old! Even the other subs were laughing! AGG!
My punishment is coming to an end soon, and I can go back to being a big girl. (Yayy!) However, Daddy says since this obviously worked so well, he’ll keep it in routine, so I imagine its only a while before I end up in diapers again. (I promise I won’t deliberately misbehave to get it). I wouldn’t be writing this but Daddy since humiliation is part of it I have to tell you all and answer questions. If there is more he might even have me write another! So there you go- to all you doms out there, this works, and to all you subs other there, keep in line or you might soon match my sorry state!
Thank you for your time,
-alice (uncapitalized on Daddy’s command)