Novel & Cerita Forced To Use Diapers

she sound worried. I smiled to relieve her from the stress "I'm fine mom" I said as I strived to sit up and felt something in between my legs. I looked under the blanket to see a urinary catheter. "Oh God" I sighed. "Mom! Why am I wearing diapers?" I frowned. "Emily, you need to stay put okay? You have been unconscious for two days. How do you expect us to move you out of the bed...". "But mom... I didn't poop in bed. Did I?" I interrupted.

"You're wearing diapers. Just poop in the pampers." "Daddy, that's disgusting. Mommy says I have to start learning to poop in the bathroom." Harriet can already pee in the bathroom, but not for poop. Pooping on the toilet seat is still hard for her so she still has to learn. And tonight she suddenly wanted to do it again. Now Harriet got out of bed, and she grabbed Sean's hand. "Come on, quickly! I can not stand." Sean rubbed his heavy eyes, then couldn't help but get up from his lying position. "Why do you have to learn to poop in the toilet now? Why not tomorrow?"

John's pov --------------- I selected all those clothes by my own. When my mom sent me roya pictures, I went to the market and buy all of those clothes which she try. I also wear some undergarments for her. I buy every color for her. I want to see her in those dresses. But she refuses,it hurts . Why she is not accepting me?

I replied smiling. "If wearing a diaper would make you call me your baby again, then I am in," he said chuckling. I rolled my eyes at his effort in making me laugh. "Did you tell the kids I used to wipe your butt whenever you need a diaper change?" I asked, smirking triumphantly. "Daddy! A lady wiped your butt?" The dark one shouted. "Eeew! That is gross dad, you pooed in your diaper." The fair one added. "Gosh! Guys, we also used to poo in our diapers and mum wiped our butt. And of course mum is a lady too." the third one clarified

"What is it? Hungry? Wet? Existential dread?" I checked the diaper. Blue line. Wet. "Diaper it is." I carried her to the changing table. I laid her down. I unbuttoned the Daddy's Girl onesie. "Sorry about the draft," I apologized as I removed the diaper. She kicked. She screamed. She flailed her limbs like a tiny, angry starfish. "Hold still," I pleaded, trying to wipe her while holding her ankles with one hand. It was like wrestling an octopus. "How are you this strong? You eat milk."

Who would have imagined that such a tiny life could possess such astonishing “destructive power” Thankfully, Alex’s mother had taught me a full set of infant care techniques. Within two days, I could manage everything with surprising competence. The only task that still made my scalp tingle was changing diapers. It was a true test of willpower. I was already looking forward to the day she could use the bathroom on her own.

I asked, talking to her in a soft, soothing voice as I picked her up, placed her on the changing table, then expertly went about changing her diaper like a trained professional. The first couple of months had been a bit of a nightmare. I had nearly resorted to duct tape to keep the things on, wondering who in their right mind designed a diaper with a skinny little tab to hold the thing on what I considered a squirming, jiggly pile of gelatin. With a lot of practice, I managed to figure it out.

If I did, he would make me withhold my pee for two days, while drinking water like a fish. Now sprawled on the floor with my legs crisscrossed, and my thighs locked together, I cried out in pain. “Daddy, please. I wanna pee.” I started begging as frustration set in. “Daddy will let you pee if you make Daddy cum hard.” Huracio's diabolically husky voice floated into my head. “Yes, yes, Daddy. I will make Daddy cum. I am willing to make Daddy cum.” I started crying. It was just too painful.

They are playmates now. My OB told me to stay in bed until I gave birth and needed someone to go in the toilet and bathe. I almost lost my baby when I was four months pregnant. My OB said it was too much stress and a lack of rest. During my seven months, I slipped inside the bathroom, I bled, and I thought I was going to lose my baby that time, but thankfully, my baby was holding tight. And now, I'm bedridden and use a wheelchair to go outside every morning for fresh air and sunlight.

But my ex-boyfriend’s assistant, Anne Smith, had insisted on riding the drop tower and forced me to join despite my pregnancy. I was stuffed into the ride seat, begging desperately only to have my humiliation recorded. My ex-boyfriend and Anne had laughed at me. "Look at how scared she is—let's record this and post it online for everyone to see." After several rounds, my water broke. When I got to the hospital, the baby was already dead.