*LUCY* 844-332-2639 xxx- 221
You’ve been such a good ABDL lately that I feel like you deserve a special mommy to give you some love. Are you looking for a special mommy for some playtime?
I love getting calls from adult babies who need to be regressed back to their toddler days. But what I love most is when I get a call from someone who says they grew up as a baby boy, but now they want to experience something different. Something only a special
mommy can give them.
Mama Felicity 1844-332-2639 Ext 270
Whenever there is a stinky problem and no one can locate the source, they call in the stinky pants detective. Babies R Us was having this horrible, peeyouuu problem, and none of the mommies shopping could find the stinker who’d stunk up the aisles. They called me, desperate to remove the smell from the store so people could shop in peace.
The moment my high heels breezed through the doorway, I knew the smell. No one in the world smells as bad as Mr. Stinky Pampers, and that special flavor of stink tickled my nose. I sniffed, instantly regretting it, and started my search.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
I know that silence is never a good sign when Timmy is supposed to be playing with his blocks. When I take a peek in his room, there he is, huddled awkwardly against the beanbag chair. His face is flushed scarlet, avoiding my gaze. I’ve only seen him do this when he’s deliberately done something he knows he shouldn’t have.
As I approach, and the air around him begins to change. The usual scent of baby powder is replaced with a humid, musky heaviness that confirms my deepest suspicion. My naughty boy didn’t hold it, and he certainly didn’t ask Mommy for help. Which now creates a significant problem we have no choice but to address.
Phonesex with Felicity 1844-332-2639 x 270
It’s been two days since I took away Todd’s potty rights. So far, he’s only wet his diaper, but I know he can’t hold out forever. This morning, I noticed he had been rubbing his tummy. I think I even heard it gurgling. “Aw, Todd. Are you hungry, baby?” I thought maybe feeding him would make him feel better. But instead, he shook his head with a worried look. “May I use the potty, Mommy?” He begged in a small voice.
“No, Sir! That’s what your diapers are for, remember? No more potty time. You’ll mess yourself like the baby you are.”
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I’ve just had it with Vincent’s constant mischief! When I entrusted him with the responsibility to wear big boy underpants instead of his diapers, I was confident he could handle it. Boy, was I wrong. I walked into his room and the first thing I noticed was the mess of dirty underpants on the floor! They were literally filled to the brim! He knew better than to disobey me like this. So, it’s time to teach him a hard lesson.
With a stern expression, I call out to him, “Vincent, get over here now! We need to have a talk.” He casually strolls into the room, a smirk on his face that infuriates me even further. “I thought we had an understanding, young man,” I say, in my best ABDL Mommy voice. Vincent is older than me and holds a prestigious job at a law firm, but you’d never know it when we’re together. “No more soiled underpants. Do you remember our rules about using the big boy potty?”
Zesty Zoey 1-844-332-2639 Ext 403
Come to me, dirty little boy. Now come closer to mommy’s sweet and perfect ass. Let me hear you beg mommy for permission to lick it. Tell mommy how badly you want to slip your little dirty boy tongue in between mommy’s perfect cheeks and taste mommy’s tangy little ass hole. Don’t worry little one. Mommy will tell you just how good it feels. Listen when I tell you to go deeper and harder with your filthy little tongue.
Goddess Rita 1844-332-2639 Ext 413
I know your secret. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s true. After a fantastic night of lovemaking, with my head resting against your chest as you slept, I heard you mumble. I listened more carefully, and what you said was, “Please, Mommy. I won’t wear them again. Don’t spank me.”
Wear them? I thought. What had my naughty boy stolen from his Mommy that caused him to get punished? “What did you wear?” I asked softly, while noting how your cock pulsed to life under the blankets.
“Your pantyhose again.” You tossed your head side to side in your slumber as if you could escape Mommy’s wrath.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 et 407
It all started innocently enough. My friend, Gary – a man whose beard had a beard and whose idea of a challenging morning was deciding between two different artisanal coffee blends – casually asked if I could “help out” for a few weeks. He’d apparently aggravated an old sports injury, which sounded legitimate at the time. My visions were of fetching him an extra-large pizza and maybe a few remote controls. Never did I envision myself becoming, for lack of a better term, his “Mama.”
The first clue was the distinct odor of Johnson’s Baby Powder mixed with something vaguely earthy. Then came the sights. A crib, oversized bottles, a mountainous pile of what I initially mistook for industrial-grade pillow stuffing, but which quickly resolved into absurdly large, plastic-backed diapers. And there, nestled amidst a sea of plush toys and a particularly garish cartoon blanket, was Gary. Not the beard-having, coffee-snob Gary I knew, but a version clad in a pastel blue onesie, sucking on a pacifier the size of a teacup, gazing up at me with eyes that seemed far too innocent for a man who owed taxes.
Kayla Cumsalot 1844-33-CANDY Ext 357
BZ wasn’t loving unpotty training. He really wasn’t a fan of wearing diapers, especially out of the house, but like all good boys, he was trying for Mommy. He waddled over to me and tapped me on the thigh. I was texting Ryan and asked BZ what he needed.
“Um, I have to go potty.” He looked sheepish and embarrassed. My hand reached out to squish the front of his very dry diaper crotch.
“Just go in your diaper like you’re supposed to.
Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
When most folks hear “massage parlor,” they think hot stones and essential oils. And we have those, of course. My hands are good, trained to ease knots you didn’t even know you carried. But it was never quite enough, not for me, and certainly not for some of my more adventurous clients. I noticed a pattern. A look in their eyes, a certain aspect of their tension that a standard massage just couldn’t quite smooth away. They craved a different kind of release, a deeper surrender.
That’s where the “add-on” came in. It started subtly, a suggestion here, a whispered request there. Soon enough, it became my signature service, the one that keeps my regulars coming back, often with that eager, almost wonderous glint in their eyes. After a thorough, tension-melting massage, when their muscles are liquid and their minds are drifting, I offer it. “How about something truly liberating today?” I’d purr, my voice effortlessly reassuring. Many already know what I mean. For those who don’t, I explain: a comfortable, absorbent diaper, snugged just right, a return to a state of complete, unburdened freedom.