YouTube Tuesdays: Expanding Our Horizons - Asia

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Rockin' Diapers on the iPhone

I've had a PDA since some of y'all were actually in diapers the first time around. The original Palm Pilot... then some kind of Palm phone with Sprint... to a Treo with Verizon... and then a different (whack!) Treo with AT&T. A year ago I switched to the iPhone 3G and, later, the 3GS. And I loooooove it!

My iPhone is in my hand 24/7. Those of you who hate cell phones couldn't possibly understand, but if you're a phone junkie/text whore like I am, the iPhone is your little companion. I have unlimited minutes and unlimited texting, and those of you with whom I've shared the cell know I text voraciously. I've joked that once they make texting and driving illegal in Florida I may have to move. (Driving while intexticated, I know, I know lol).

And, with MMS messaging finally brought to the iPhone, I can now receive adorable diaper pictures thru text again... whoo hoo! (Nickster, I'm talkin' to ya...)

As if I didn't love the iPhone enough already, this little bitch helps me connect with, and/or represent, my diaper side. I can be in a meeting and, instead of nodding off I'm holding my iPhone under the table perusing the latest pictures on RUP. While other people are standing in line at the checkout reading tabloids I'm reading Twitter updates from other ABDLs. (Note: follow me: http://www.twitter.com/abysitter). I'm not obsessed with diapers or anything... I can get through the day without them. But having all of this in my hand at a moment's notice sure is comforting, hehehe.

Tonight a friend caught a glimpse of my iPhone and saw my Beejive wallpaper. Beejive is a program that lets me use my AIM, YIM (YIM = abysitter), GTalk, Facebook Chat, and other services all on the phone. I recently discovered that I can give it a personal touch - wallpaper - and decided to go ABDL. My boy told me that I really "represent" the diaper life, so I thought I'd show off the ABDLness of my iPhone.

(A little Patrik 1.5 action?)

(Click anywhere to go to diapers!)

(Twitter!)

(Get your Abysitter.com fix right from the wireless!)

(I can read mails, but not reply, on RUP... so if I'm delayed, sorry!)

(YouTube browsing at its best...)

If anyone else has a diaperfied device out there feel free to share your photos and apps with me. To all of the iPhone haters... leave your venom in my comments. ;)

Guest Entries & Diaper Photos Wanted!

D I A P E R - - - P H O T O S - - - N E E D E D

I am still looking for

diaper photos

for future blog entries.

They can be

ABDL Roleplay Photos

DL Hotboy Photos

Diaper Closeups

Face, Faceless, Whatev...

If you have any pictures you don't mind

me using in a future entry,

email them to

abysitter@gmail.com.

(I will link to your profile, site, etc. if you wish)

Special note:

Someone approached me with the idea

of ABDL pictures with 'Abysitter.com' written

on a sign, or across the back of a diaper,

in the picture.

Great idea; problem is, he isn't ABDL ha.

If you are, and are creative, hit me uppp!

O R L A N D O - - - A R E A - - - V I S I T O R S

Visiting Orlando, Florida?

If you are, and would like to pose for a photo session,

email me in advance at

abysitter@gmail.com.

I'm always looking for new pictures for the blog,

and some of y'all look like you could use

someone to take some photos.

Let's get the adorableness going...

hit me up.

G U E S T - - - E N T R I E S - - - W A N T E D

This blog is supposed to help me tell my story.

More importantly, I'm hoping it may help people gain

a better understanding of the

ABDL lifestyle.

I recognize, however, that my experiences have been unique.

Some of you have stories to tell...

I read them in the forums, and I've gotten them in my emails.

If you have a little bit of writing talent

and want to tell the story of

any part of your ABDL experiences

from birth til today

contact me.

- Cwis

Halloween Baby!

Who among us hasn't wanted to walk out of the house in a diaper, pacifier in hand, and strut around town diaper on display?

I certainly have...

Once a year, we all have the opportunity: Halloween.

How many of us take it?

I remember being in sixth grade. I had a crush on this seventh-grader, Dean Stewart. Dean was a jock - football, lacrosse, and some sort of track and field - and was probably the most popular seventh grader. He was, basically, kind of a big deal.

He was also the object of my big bro-little bro fantasies. An ABDL even at age twelve, I used to dream - and daydream - about Dean Stewart diapering up his li'l bro before carting him off to sports practice. I envisioned myself on the sidelines, diapered, with 'big bro' running the field.

We were in study hall and lunch together. Dean would sit at the popular kids table, and I'd sit at my table of little loser sixth graders, trying to focus on the conversations at hand and not glance over at Dean. It was hard not to; he was beautiful. Picture Abercrombie & Fitch meets GQ, with a glass eye. The glass eye isn't really that important a detail, but it sort of added to his character - he overcame eyesight obstacles! I used to think - and you have Dean.

I'll never forget the day Dean sat at my table, spontaneously. He just walked in to the cafeteria, where study hall was held, and sat down. I remember being sick to my stomach. Could he tell I was obsessed with him? Could he sense my crush? Was it that obvious that li'l sixth-grade Chris was jerking off to his yearbook picture?

Dean sat at our table, for no reason, and spilled his guts for the 40-minute period; his girlfriend (damn!) was pretentious and was pissing him off. He wanted to break up with her, and couldn't stand to sit with her during study hall. He talked and talked, and my entire table sat mesmerized - me because the object of my adolescent fantasies was sitting next to me, and the other people at our table because the coolest kid in school was at our table.

The coolest part about it was that he used my name a half-dozen times.

Chris... Chris... Chris... Chris...

We'd never had a conversation, but Dean knew my name - and, for some reason, had decided that he wanted to talk to me that day.

Might sound corny to all of you, but that day I felt like I was kind of a big deal. I wondered if it was a one-time thing which would never occur again, a torturous brush with hotness that would turn cold with my next class. And, of course, I wondered why I'd been so lucky...

It didn't end that day. From that point forward Dean made it a point to say what up to me in the hallways. Whoever he was walking with would give me a second look, like... Okay, who is that again?... and anyone I was walking with would invariably show respect. You know Dean Stewart?! At football games Dean would come up into the stands to say hello to his friends - a cadre of popular kids, his followers - always making a point to stop by and give me a dap.

Funny how that works in sixth/seventh grade... the coolness factor... and cool by association...

In early November that year I heard whispers of Diaper Dean. There was only one Dean in our school - I'd never heard of another person named Dean at that time - and I heard the words diaper and Dean in the same sentence so often that it began to drive me crazy.

Oddly enough, Dean sat at my table again that same week. And, with less than five minutes of study hall left to go, I finally got up the nerve to ask him.

"What's up with the nickname 'Diaper Dean'?"

That's when Dean looked me straight in the eye and said "I went to a costume party dressed as a baby."

I almost died.

"A baby?!?!" the people at my table asked him. (Odd that I don't remember who any of them were, but can still see Dean's reaction as though it were five minutes ago).

"A baby," Dean told us. "A diaper, all of that."

I'm sure that the urge to laugh swept over everyone at our table but me, but nobody dared laugh at Dean. Someone asked him if he wasn't embarassed to wear a diaper in public; someone else wanted to know who put it on him; a third person asked if he used the diaper...

His answers?

1. Not at all.

2. He did, and his mom helped.

3. No... but he thought about it.

The whole time Dean answered the question I sat, staring, mesmerized. I was picturing Dean dressed in a diaper and, instead of being excited, I was heartbroken. It was like the greatest thing in the world had happened, and I'd missed it.

Why couldn't I have been invited to the popular kids' parties?

Why couldn't Dean have done a preview of his costume at school that day?

Why couldn't there be pictures?

By the end of the period, though, I realized how lucky I was; the person I assigned to the 'big brother' role - the person I dreamed about taking care of me, babying me, and treating me like his little brother - had worn a diaper to a party.

Was he ABDL? I didn't know. And I didn't have the guts to ask.

But for the rest of the time that we were in school together, all the way through high school, I felt like we had a connection.

Once, as a junior, Senior Dean had stuck up for me; a football player was making crass remarks about the swim team, of which I was a member, and Dean told him to fuck off. And, of course, he immediately did. Dean winked at me, and I remember wondering if his wink was an innocent one, or secret signal between diaper bro's. (Or, maybe, he was just blinking, lol).

There are few things in my life that I've always regretted missing. That party was one of them.

Whenever I see pictures of boys dressed up as babies for Halloween I think of Dean Stewart. Like most of us, I wonder if the 'babies' are ABDLs exercising one of our favorite holidays as an excuse to show off, or simply an innocent costume.

I've seen the baby costumes at the costume shops. They're unoriginal and lack imagination. Or maybe I just hate them because, for most of them, there are no diapers involved. One of the newer ones is so fake it's not even funny.

Sometimes, though, people get it right. Real diapers - even if they're cheesy adult training pants - and all of the accessories.

I've included some of those pictures below. The 'babies' below may or may not be ABDL; all, however, dressed up in diapers for Halloween.

The first picture, above, and the second, below, are of an AZ friend of a friend. Fucking hawttttt.

The two pictures immediately below it are of a Ohio friend of a friend. I saw them on his Facebook, and had to ask him if he's ABDL. I messaged him through my anonymous account, and just straight up asked him. His answer? "The bitches think babies are cute, but nah, it was just for Halloween, bro."

The four pictures below are of another AZ friend of the same friend. (I'm lucky; my friend in AZ knows I'm into diapers and sends me every single picture he finds of anyone in diapers. Turns out quite a few of his friends seem to find excuses to wear them). I asked this kid, too, if he is ABDL; Jiggy-Boo, as he calls himself, replied: "I don't know what that is, but Google paints a disturbing picture..." (Rats!)

An Orlando-area Halloween party baby...

And, a bunch of randoms...

Is it just me, or is the baby boy above left - the winner of some kind of costume contest - hot as fuccccck?

If any of you have any cute Halloween party pictures from this year - or any years - please email me at abysitter@gmail.com; I'll include them in a future blog entry.

Hope you enjoyed.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!

Thugs in Hugz: Part VI

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YouTube Tuesdays: Expanding Our Horizons - Espanol

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Thugs in Hugz: Part V

After I had my diaper taped up nice and tight I rolled over so I could see Chris. He lay on the couch cushion mattress, and I saw where the cushion under his diapered ass had a trace of wetness. This was not good.

"Come up here."

Chris got up on his knees, facing the bed, and groaned.

"My legs are sooooo sore, sir," he complained. "All of the crawling does not do a baby good." I had to laugh; he seemed to be taking his new role pretty well. When a thug can make jokes about being in a soaking wet diaper...

Chris grabbed onto the bed and hoisted himself up onto it, then waited tentatively for my next command. I ordered him to lay down and he did, careful to bring his diaper down slowly, apparently aware of how wet it had become.

"What's that on the cushions, Chris?" I asked, pointed down. He put his hands on the side of the mattress and pulled himself over, looking down.

"Did I do that?" he asked, laughing. There were three wet spots. Anyone who wears diapers knows a saggy diaper that leaks leaks at the top and the sides; the three-wet-spot curse has probably befallen us all. But this was Chris's first time in a wet diaper, and I wanted to embarrass him a little. It seemed, though, that he was above embarrassment.

"Sorry, sir! But you gotta think... who picked out the diaper? Who put it on me? Who didn't change me for a whole hour, sir?"

Cocky little fucker...

I ordered Chris onto his back and he complied. I untaped his diaper and pulled the top down to his knees. He was hard as a rock, and his face immediately turned red. Could Chris be... enjoying this? It seemed like it. I decided to make sure he got to enjoy it a little more... but not quite enough... hehehe...

"Feet in the air," I ordered, and Chris complied. I reached over, picked up a pacifier off the nightstand, and popped it into his mouth. He rolled his eyes.

Anyone who's ever changed a diaper knows that, at this point in the game, there's a conundrum: you have to get the wet diaper away from the diaperboy's behind so you can dry it off and yet, the moment you pull the diaper away, you have a urine-soaked bottom on the mattress. Who wants that? I took Chris's feet in my hands and pulled them towards his head, until his feet were practically touching the pillow.

"What am I, a pretzel, sir?"

I gave Chris a stern look and he started laughing. He seemed about as comfortable as a 'gangsta' can look butt-ass naked, feet over his head/ass in the air with a pissy diaper under him.

"Not a pretzel... but you're pretty damn flexible, I'll give you that..."

"Thank you sir," Chris replied, sounding genuinely happy to be praised for something. "It's a gift, I tell ya."

"And now I've got another gift for you," I continued. "A dry diaper."

More laughter.

"Best gift I've had all year, sir!"

I pulled Chris's heavy diaper from under his behind and tossed it onto him. It landed wet-side-up - lucky for him - and stretched from just under his chin to his belly button. Chris grimaced but didn't make a move to try to move it off of him.

I climbed off of the bed and walked across the room to retrieve some diapering supplies. As I did, I caught Chris's reflection in the window. He really was dope. He was someone I'd see on the street and just have the urge to diaper... a thuggish bad-boy with a chip on his shoulder, that swagger you only see from guys from the ghetto - or, in this case, a poorer neighborhood in a city with no real violent crime to speak of, lol. Chris was 100% thug in a town where he didn't need to be; clearly someone looking for his identity. For the next few days, however, his identity would be Baby Chris. (Or, Adult Chris Who Just Wears A Diaper And Drinks A Lot).

I walked back to Chris and checked him out as I did. I hadn't really noticed during the first batch of nakey time, but he was a big boy; his penis had been on the larger side when I'd diapered him an hour ago but now that it was erect - damn. I'd diapered fifty-plus people of nearly every race and creed, and Chris was probably the biggest I'd come across so far; I was surprised that his penis hadn't popped over the top of the Pamper while it was hanging down off of his rear. Chris's abs were somewhat toned but not all there, and I pictured him being in shape for sports in high school and letting himself go somewhat afterward; weed and beer were his dietary staples, it seemed like. Still, he had a two-pack or four-pack if he sucked in, and he was muscular. Me likey a lot!

Chris was still hard when I tossed the dry diaper, baby powder, and baby wipes one by one onto the bed beside him. His hands were busy holding his feet over his head, and he seemed tired, but he let go for a second to pick up the diaper and examine it.

"This one's different, sir."

He was holding an Abena X-Plus in his hand - the thickest diaper known to man. If you've never held an X-Plus I'm not sure if I could adequately sum up the experience. It's like you're holding a board or something. It's this thick-ass diaper that you could almost knock someone out with. It barely even bends. (I know all of you who wear Depends or CVS brand because you can't get anything better are probably salivating right now, and I'll tell you: if you're a true AB or DL, you need to make one of your life's goals (the diaper ones, at least) be trying an Abena X-Plus.

"That's an X-Plus, bro," I told him. "It's probably the - "

"They have names, sir?" Chris interrupted.

"They do. And that's a diaper for nightime use. I could probably leave you in that for over twenty-four hours and not have to change you."

"You won't, will you, sir?" Chris asked, seeming genuinely concerned. He'd pushed his limit with the wet diaper he'd been forced to crawl around in, and that had been wet for less than an hour. Twenty-four hours? I assured him I was exaggerating, and he seemed relieved. "I much prefer a dry diaper, sir," he said, laughing.

I picked up the wet Attend and held it in the air. I picked up the X-Plus in my other hand and had to chuckle at the difference. On the one hand, a flimsy, light diaper, the padding having long since broken apart and shifted to the lower end of the diaper; in the other hand a thick, heavy disposable. I tossed the Attend into the trash across the room; it went right in.

"I see you have some experience with that diaper-throwing thing, sir" Chris said. "If they ever make diaper-tossing an Olympic sport, I bet you'll bring home the Gold." I laughed.

"You're just trying to butter me up so I won't warm your tail for getting my couch cushions wet with piss, huh?"

Chris's face turned red again and he turned to face the window a little, his feet in the air moving with the rest of his body.

"It's almost dry, sir," he announced. "Barely see it's there."

"You know what sucks even worse that a pissy wet couch cushion, Chris?" I asked.

"Umm... no, sir?"

"A pissy dry couch cushion, Chris. You'll smell why when I put you back down there."

"Ohhhhhhh. Yuck," he said. "But isn't the fact that I've gotta sleep on it punishment enough?" I walked over to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a paddle. Really a cutting board, it was flat with a handle and, with a nice square end, made a better spanking implement than a frat paddle or something similar. Chris shook his head and grimaced. "I guess not, sir?"

"How many wet spots were there?" I asked him. Three, he answered. "That's how many swats you get."

If Chris had seemed hard before he was even harder now. I walked over and stood beside him, putting my left hand over his feet and giving them a gentle push even closer to the bed. The paddle in my right hand, I put it on his ass, rubbing it back and forth for a minute. His eyes were closed, now...

"Left leg wet spot..." I intoned, and then brought the paddle crashing down on his left cheek. Chris winced and, a moment later, contorted his face. The paddle had come in at just the right angle to inflict the maximum amount of pain - and leave a big red mark. I hoped it wouldn't turn into a bruise and mar that beautiful bottom...

"Right leg wet spot..." I said, and brought the paddle up. Chris instinctively squeezed his ass tight and then, a second later, forced it to relax. Clearly someone who had some experience with spankings, he knew that the more relaxed your bum, the less it hurts. I wound up and brought it crashed down and he yelped a little, shook his head, and opened his eyes.

"I just want to point out that you are the one who put me in that paper-thin diaper, sir," Chris told me. I looked at him, very seriously, and he smiled and closed his eyes. "Just sayin'."

"Front-side wet spot," I continued, and brought the paddle up. Just then Chris, in a moment of panic, let go of his feet, using his hands to cover his privates. He opened his eyes again.

"Sir..."

I was surprised. Did this dude really think I was going to paddle his front-side? That'd be... crazy. The look on his face must have shown him how surprised I was, because he quickly apologized, grabbed his feet, and pulled them back over his head. I watched Chris roll from side to side to get his ass as high in the air as possible; he wasn't taking any chances.

"You can hit me twice if you want to, for that, sir," he offered.

I reached back and brought the paddle down across both cheeks. I'd been thinking the front-side wet spot was in the middle - all you diaper-wearers who wet know what I'm talking about - so the spanking would be in the middle. Left cheek + right cheek + center-of-butt - not left/right/groin?! Chris winced in pain and clenched his ass, rolling from side to side a little. I was impressed that he managed to keep his feet high over his head. I wound up and brought the paddle crashing down again, once again managing to hit the 'sweet spot' on his backside, and Chris yelped, let go of his feet, and turned over onto his stomach, waving his bottom in the air. I looked at him - he was soooo dope - and he looked back at me guiltily.

"What, sir?" he asked. "I figured you were done. It was time to turn over." He grinned as he said it, probably realizing how far-fetched it sounded. I rolled my eyes.

"You don't diaper someone while they're on their stomach, Chris. Nice try."

Chris thought a moment, and then his face lit up.

"You're such an expert at diapering I figured you could do it no matter what position I was in," he tried. I shook my head and motioned for him to turn over. He did, and took it upon himself to this time grab his own feet and pull them next to his ears.

"You can relax now, just put your feet in the air for me" I told him. He let go and his feet sprang toward me. He balanced them in that right-angle diapering position and I flapped open the X-Plus and slid it up underneath him. Some thorough wiping and powdering, and then the diaper was taped up. Chris patted the front of it with his hands and then tried to push his legs together - not happening. He seemed impressed.

"Turn over," I ordered. Complying was a challenge; Chris was tired and sore, and the diaper was thick. Unable to push his hips together and simply turn he was forced to sort of push himself up into the air and do a twisting maneuver. Once he was on his stomach I snapped my fingers and pointed to the front of the bed. He scooted up and I positioned him diagonally, his head at one corner and his feet near the opposite. Then I pushed his legs apart and got into position between them, resting my head on the pillow which was Chris's thickly-padded bottom.

I lay there for several minutes, enjoying the moment. I heard Chris nuk-king on his paci. He seemed content and relaxed. I wondered if he was incredibly uncomfortable - straight boy having a guy resting on his ass and all.

"How uncomfortable are you, on a scale of one to ten?" I asked. Chris laughed.

"Is one really, really uncomfortable, or comfortable?" he asked. I explained that I'd asked how uncomfortable he was; ten was extremely uncomfortable, on down to one.

"So one is like... I feel like this was where I was meant to be, sir?" he asked, rolling his eyes and laughing. I nodded.

"Well, sir... my butt still stings a little, and I'm sore as fuck - er, frick - from all of that crawling. So I'd say a five. Now that I'm not in my own pee, maybe even a four?"

I thought about that for a second before it occurred to me that Chris had missed the point of the question. I was taking about his comfort level with another guy feeling on his ass; he was talking about physical comfort.

Cool.

I pushed my hands up underneath Chris's diaper, using them to push his bottom up in the air a little. Chris cooperated, pushing his own behind up a bit, and I found his still-rock-hard junk and put my hands underneath it. Chris instinctively pushed his bottom a little higher in the air and made this funny inhaling sound. I began to move my own diapered ass up, down, up, down against the mattress, at the same time rubbing my hands hard up and down the front of Chris's diaper. I could feel his penis getting even harder through the thickness of the diaper, and he tensed up.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"No, sir. I'm down for whatever..."

TO BE CONTINUED...

YouTube Tuesdays: Frat Babies Are Back...

YouTube Tuesdays: Video #11

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

"The Frat Babies Are Back"

Disclaimer: Thanks to AB Daddy Mike for bringing this video to the attention of the diaper community at large, via RUP. It's adorable. It's October 13th, and frat pledging at most universities has recently ended. How many freshman were forced to wear diapers over the past month? How many were forced to drink until they urinated on themselves, to crawl around baby-slave style waiting on their big brothers? And how did I not know this type of diaper humiliation existed when I was in college?!?!