Anyone Know A Daddy Thatll Do This To Me

Releasing ABDL Shame

I recently got a private message on Fetlife from a new guy-friend who, like me and so many others have, is struggling with the guilt and shame of having ABDL interests, particularly in light of his outward masculinity.  I thought I would repost my advice here in case it can be of any help to our Tumblr friends… while we aren’t by any means experts on shame or self-care, I thought perhaps my thoughts could help others.

—

For me, there have been a couple of core concepts that have helped me release that shame and guilt. I’ll share them here in full knowledge that these aren’t the kinds of things that seep in overnight: it took me a couple of years to deeply internalize them, and even today I have to remind myself at times that I lose self-compassion or feel threatened. So, be kind to yourself… this kind of self-integration is a process, and by reaching out to others you have started it brilliantly. Kudos for your bravery!

Everyone is masculine and feminine.

Seriously, we all contain both of these energies and their requisite traits in spades. Our culture tells us a lot about how we should feel, how each gender should act, etc., but most of it is polarized nonsense for the sake of quick characterization. (One researcher refers to it as a “social role heuristic,” basically a shortcut to understand where we fit in the pecking order). For a couple hundred millennia, males have been depended upon to be bigger, physically stronger, hunt, etc., and females have been depended upon to bear and nurse children, gather provisions, nurture community support, etc., and our cultural standards have developed around these necessities. Unfortunately, we have also lumped a whole lot of psychological concepts into these functional realities as our societies have gotten more complex and our ability to abstract has improved. So big/strong/independent has turned into a role and bear/gather/nurture has turned into a role which eventually turned into a set of beliefs which eventually turned into our concept of gender.

All that to say, you are both. You are strong and independent and tough and assertive. You are also soft, open, in need of love, tender, small, and weak. Both are true, and neither requires the other to go away in order for itself to exist. As Walt Whitman famously wrote, “I am large. I contain multitudes.” I go to work, I make command decisions, sometimes I guide millions of dollars and hundreds of jobs with my choices… and when I come sometimes I want to get diapered and taken care of, and both are equally awesome. Neither requires the other one to go away in order to be true. You need to be taken care of, just like everybody else, and don’t let the business suit or power play trick you into thinking you need to polarize. You don’t. Go kick ass during the day, come home and Little-out at night. Or vice versa. You are contain multitudes.

You are not broken.

Man, this is the crux of it. Sexuality is impossibly complex, and it exists at such a fundamental level in our brain development and evolution… it pre-dates conscious thought, and our conceptualizations of our sexuality are merely best-guesses at trying to characterize something wholly abstract and base-functioning.

To think of sexualities, regardless of how culturally deviant, as being character flaws or mistakes is to miss how sexuality works. If you don’t believe me, look at the NIH-funded studies that demonstrated how easy it is to create a lemon fetish in rats. Are these rats morally corrupt? Are they broken? Are they perverts? Are they broken? Nope… their sexual development happened to overlap with a sensory stimulus and they ended up with a fetish. Awesome. Anybody got any guesses on why men are attracted breasts? Yup. Because that’s how that works.

There is nothing wrong with you. There never was. Your sexuality may be different than most people you know, but it’s not broken.  There is no normal sexuality, and I guarantee that you are surrounded by dozens of men and women at work who have sexual fetishes, bizarre interests, turn-ons and practices that they work hard to hide from the world.

You deserve to try to be happy.

The pursuit of happiness is, as the US Declaration of Independence so eloquently puts it, an inalienable right. I think it’s an inherent trait; a motivational force built into each of us in some degree that drives behavior. So goddamnit, if something makes you happy and you can do it without violating others’ right to their pursuit of happiness, go after it. Few things make me as happy as diapering my wife, and few things make me feel as loved as being diapered. So I’m going to do it a lot; it’s fantastic. If I’m not doing it enough, I’m going to create time, and if I find I’m doing it too much, I’ll back it off, as it isn’t actually making me happy. Your pursuit of something that makes you happy isn’t just nice, it’s essential to embracing your own beautiful humanity. So fucking run after it; find your thing, and do it a lot. If your partner isn’t game, that’s OK… he/she doesn’t have to be, and he/she has a right to pursue happiness too, and you guys can work out how that will work for you. Pursuing happiness is part of valuing your own humanity; if you would want it for a friend, you can want it for yourself.

Let shame teach you, then let it go.

Shame and fear researcher Brenè Brown says it better than I ever could in her TED talk on shame:

“In surviving this last year, I was reminded of a cardinal rule — not a research rule, but a moral imperative from my upbringing — “you’ve got to dance with the one who brung ya”. And I did not learn about vulnerability and courage and creativity and innovation from studying vulnerability. I learned about these things from studying shame. And so I want to walk you in to shame. Jungian analysts call shame the swampland of the soul. And we’re going to walk in. And the purpose is not to walk in and construct a home and live there. It is to put on some galoshes — and walk through and find our way around.”

It’s OK to feel it.  It’s OK really dislike that feeling, too.  But let it teach you; let it tell you about your beliefs and your contradictions without judging yourself for feeling those things.  Then, when you’re ready, choose to begin to step out of it.  Avoiding shame (like avoiding any feeling) just compresses it into a more potent version of itself, and it comes out in dark and unpredictable ways.  Don’t try *not* to be shameful, but rather ask what it teaches you about yourself, then choose to replace shame with compassion as you walk out of the swamp.

I hope this is helpful, and I’m really glad you reached out; that moment of vulnerability is a moment of profound creative and renewing energy.

My Best,

RY

ATTENTION ALL LITTLES WHO WANT TO MAKE FRIENDS! 🎀🍼😋

reblog this post to find friends and help other littles find friends too! 

The woods, once a place of escape, now felt like a cruel stage, the dampness a blatant testament to my failure. The denim clung to my skin, cold and heavy, the telltale stain a silent scream of my humiliation. I tried to hide it, to pretend that nothing was amiss, but the warmth, the stickiness, it was a reminder that my control had slipped, had completely abandoned me in the middle of nowhere.

The walk back had been a torturous ordeal, each step a reminder of my public defeat. I needed comfort, I needed solace, I needed to get home. The thought of the soft, familiar embrace of my bed was my only motivator.

And when I finally made it, I made the decision to embrace it, and not hide it. I pulled off the soaked fabric and reached for what I really needed, what I truly craved. Then, I saw it. The fire truck pattern seemed almost mocking at first, a childish display on a grown man's diaper, but as I pulled it on, I felt it, the relief, the comfort, the unspoken promise that this was okay, it was me.

I sighed, my body finally at ease, the soft fabric a protective barrier against the world's gaze. This was me, the truth I had tried to hide. And now, finally, I was home, and I was safe.

To continue the reblog series on kinky stuff I am into: Hypnotic Conditioning.

There are so many hypnosis tracks out there catering to almost every kinky fantasy you can wish for. Especially in the context of ABDL lifestyle, hypnotic conditioning may be used as additional means to help you fill out your role. While some files aim to make you adopt more babylike behavior, others assist with with diaper training and the pursuit of actual diaper dependence. Even, if it does not work as intended, the mere possibility of it to actually have an effect on you, is very exciting. And if it does work, well you are meant to become a baby anyway…

If you are also into regression by means of hypnotic conditioning, reblog this post and share it with the world.

All but, 44,35,24

57 Ways to Humiliate a Sub Faggot

Humiliation is an important part of every faggot’s training. When a Man humiliates a faggot, He’s teaching him humility (a faggot must remain humble and not allow his ego to get in the way of his ability to serve and obey superior Men), respect (a faggot must learn to show appreciation and esteem to superior Men) and obedience (a faggot must learn to cede all control to superior Men). Plus, it’s just plain fun to embarrass or shame a faggot sometimes — and faggots exist to amuse as much as they do to serve.

Unfortunately, faggots have very little shame. Therefore, it can sometimes be difficult to imagine new ways to humiliate them. With that in mind, i’ve created a the following list of 57 ways for Men to humiliate Their faggots. Go forth, Men, and have fun playing with your subs!

Make him wear a butt plug and send him to the gym to workout — ensuring that he changes and showers in the locker room with the butt plug still in.

Cum on his face or in his hair, then send him out to run errands for You; make it clear that he’ll be severely punished if he returns and You discover that he’s wiped the cum off.

Call or text him at will and order him to piss his pants and send You a picture of it. If You do it when You know he’s out in public — at a bar, perhaps, or on the train during their evening commute home from work — even better.

Serve him his dinner in a dog bowl and make him eat it — sans utensils — kneeling like an animal on the floor next to You while You sit and eat Your dinner at the table like the Man You are.

Make him serve as a piece of furniture — a footrest, perhaps, or a coffee table on which people can set their drinks — during Your next party.

Make him address You as “Sir” in public. He should already be doing it in private, but addressing You that way in public will take Your power dynamic to a whole new level. To kick it up yet another notch, make him call You “Master.”

Outfit him with an ashtray mouth gag and station him on Your patio for smokers to use during Your next get-together.

Spontaneously order him to jerk off to completion in front of You or others in a random or inopportune time and/or place. Then, make him eat his load.

Forbid him from using the restroom for the day and make him wear a diaper, instead. Let him know you’ll be inspecting the diaper later, so he’d better make use of it.

Make him use the bathroom — piss and/or shit, Your choice — in front of You or others.

Perform an unannounced strip search and/or cavity check in an unexpected time or place — out at a bar, for instance, or in the parking lot when You’re out running errands.

Piss or cum into his food; make him eat it while You watch.

Forbid him to walk in front of You; faggots have to crawl on all fours.

Lock him in a cage naked during Your next party and let Your guests ogle at him like a zoo animal.

Dress him in slutty clothes and send him out in public to run errands for You.

Make him give himself an enema while You watch.

Make him use the urinal in a public mensroom with his pants around his ankles; or, if he has to shit, make him do so in a stall with the door wide open. Alternatively, or in addition, require that he always keep the door wide open when he’s using the bathroom at home.

Make him wear a leash and collar in Your presence. Or, even better, out in public.

Forbid him from making eye contact with You.

Handcuff him in public.

Make him kneel in a public restroom with the word “toilet” written on his forehead.

Lock his cock in a chastity device.

Lock his cock in a chastity device, then make him change at the gym, the swimming pool, the beach, etc., with the cock cage on.

Shave his head.

Shave all his body hair.

Scold him like he’s a little boy.

Reprimand him in public when he does something bad.

Spank him in public.

Write “faggot” on his face or body with suntan lotion, then take him sunbathing and let the sun “brand” him.

Make him wear a T-shirt out in public that says “i’m a faggot,” or “slave,” or “pussyboy,” or “cumdump.”

Put him in a timeout, standing naked in the corner facing the wall for a period of time.

Spit in his face — bonus if it’s a loogie — and make him keep it there to dry. Forbid him from wiping it off.

Take him to the bathhouse with messages like “breed me” or “i drink piss” or “cocksucker” written all over his body in permanent marker.

Next time he’s eating Your ass, rip a fart in his face.

Next time You take a dump, take Your finger — or even Your turd itself — and wipe a streak of shit on his upper lip. Demand that he wear Your shit mustache there all day.

Make him suck a dildo in a public place — in the car on the highway during rush hour, for example — so others can see.

Only allow him to use the bathroom outside, like a dog.

Make him eat things out of Your ass.

Gag him with Your cock until he pukes, then make him lick up his vomit.

Make him sleep on the floor next to your bed, instead of in the bed.

Slap him. Hard.

Make him lick your shoes or boots — on command, in public.

Pee next to him at the urinal when You’re out and about; turn and face him so that You piss on him instead of in the urinal. Laugh, and make him walk around with Your piss all over him.

Make him wipe Your ass for You. Either with toilet paper, with his hand or with his tongue. All three are extremely humiliating.

Make him verbally recite a list of five, 10, 20 — whatever — things he loves and admires about You.

Cut or a rip a hole in the seat of his pants and send him out wearing them without underwear on underneath.

Give him an enema and then take him on a walk around the neighborhood with it still in. Make sure he’s wearing light-colored pants or shorts. Heheheh.

Make him flash his hole to strangers in the car on the highway, at a rest stop, or another location of Your choosing.

Whenever You need to use the toilet — at home or in public — escort him in with You and make him lick it clean for You so you have a pristine place to relieve Yourself.

Clip a clothes pin to his tongue and make him say “i am a faggot” 10 times until he’s drooling all over himself.

After you fuck him, hose him off naked in the yard like a dirty animal.

Make him approach a stranger and “confess” something dirty and embarrassing. Like, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and i like to sniff Men’s asses.” Or, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and my cunt is filled with cum right now.” Or, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and i drink piss.”

Make him make animal noises for You on command: “Bark like a dog!” Or, “Meow like a cat!” Or, “Show me what sound a pig makes!”

Make him clean his cunt every time he shits. Pre-mix a cleaning solution for him to use — Your piss, perhaps, mixed with some dish soap — and store it in a spray bottle labeled “fag bath” or “cunt cleaner.” Make him display this cleaner next to the toilet in his home, where any guests are sure to see it.

Take him into a photobooth and make him pose for pictures with Your cock in his mouth, then walk away and make him leave the pictures for the next patron to find — not knowing who will find them or what they’ll do with them.

Make him approach a stranger at a bar, in a bathroom or at a sex club and beg for their cock, piss or cum.

Make him dust Your home using a feather duster stuck up his ass.

I wish i'd come back one day at home to find the Big living room table setted into a live changing table. With big packs of diapers, a Big babyish diaper bag (the most possible with design and all), a big changing mat, all the lotions, creams, powders displayed on the side. I'd be stripped of my clothes and put back in Big thick diapers while i'd be told how i will "fill them like a good baby for mommy."But not before being a crying baby After she'd locked me in chastity and milked me dry while making sure i'm open and stretched to be a good baby and do my duty.

Then explaining me how regressed she wants me to be, she would dress me up in the baby doll outfit of her Dreams. Explaining me i have no choice anymore but what mommy decides for me. Promising me to mercilessly and forcefully be sure to make me as close as a baby than she can.

Then having my full first set of baby bottles, she'd have a full pleasure to detail my program: babyish food, 24/7 diaper treatment, chastity and to make sure i have a baby tiny thing milking me dry each day doing a combo stretching and lubing my baby bottom, early bedtimes, two full naps (morning/afternoon), and most of all giving her the pleasure that she needs without bothering her or i would have a good otk spanking.

Then, making me waddling and still crying to lose all control (but accepting it) she'd put me in my nursery (of her Dreams) and the most babyish infant cot ever seen. Lying me down and securing me to be sure i don't misbehave. She'd wish me a goodnight, cooing at me, but most of all wishing me a good time filling my diapers as my now main activity. Then explaining me the fun adult activities she'd have before to leave me here, being a full regressed baby for her. Knowing i'd be her living baby-doll.

[id: a light blue userbox with a pastel blue border, and pastel blue text that reads “this user loves things intended for babies & children.” on the left is an image of a baby bear calico critter. /end id]