Search found 52 matches
- Tue Jun 19, 2018 3:36 pm
- Forum: Diaper Lovers World
- Topic: How Many Diapers Are Too Many Diapers?
- Replies: 15
- Views: 20295
Re: How Many Diapers Are Too Many Diapers?
When I was a little boy, circa 1964-1968, the moms I knew often doubled and even tripled the cloth diapers they diapered their babies with. In those days, with babies in double diapers and waterproof rubber pants, babies had these huge, soft, bulky diapered bottoms that bulged out their baby outfits...
- Tue Jun 19, 2018 3:23 pm
- Forum: Adult Baby World
- Topic: Adult Baby Humiliation
- Replies: 56
- Views: 118259
Re: Adult Baby Humiliation
Public humiliation and public diaper changes are the best. :oops: By "public" I mean Mommy's living room with all of her friends visiting her and watching her change your very messy, poopy diaper in front of them. Nothing, and I mean nothing, is more embarrassing than laying on the living ...
- Sat May 27, 2017 12:52 pm
- Forum: "Storytime", by ab/dl's everywhere
- Topic: A Stockyard in Their Pants
- Replies: 4
- Views: 9694
A Stockyard in Their Pants
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
On Sunday mornings in 1946, just after the war had ended Mildred Olson always served in her Church Nursery, which was in a large Lutheran Church, in Eden Prairie, Minnesota. Â
Â
Mildred loved babies. Â After she lost her husband in the war, and now that her five children were out of diapers, Mildred Olson missed the days of bottle feedings and dirty diapers. Â
Â
Yes, Mildred Olson missed changing dirty diapers.  The native Minnesotan wasn’t disgusted or bothered by the smell and mess that babies make in their pants.  Far from it.  The daughter of Swedish immigrants, Mildred Olson grew up in Minnesota “changing the pants†of babies who dirtied them.  Large families, and dirty diapers were a natural part of life in Minnesota back in those days.  Mildred always thought of the smell as, “a stockyard in the pants.†Â
Â
On a typical Sunday morning, Mildred would enter her Lutheran Church through the front door and start walking down the hall to the nursery where she was a volunteer nursery attendant. Â Â Along the way she greeted the Pastor and his wife, chatted with some other ladies in her Sunday school class, and clutched her Bible close to her bosom; a constant source of healing comfort since her husband died. Â
Â
About halfway down the hall, as Mildred approached the open half-moon door to the nursery, the nursery abuzz with the sound of babies crying and jabbering, an “old friend†greeted her: it was the familiar odor of a freshly filled diaper wafting through the air.  Mildred thought it smelled like a stockyard in someone’s pants.
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like somebody had a stockyard in their pants. Â Â Â
Â
Her “old friend†was always there, just hanging in the air after a baby dirtied their diapers.  It thickened the air of the nursery, and wafted out the door, reaching (and wrinkling) everyone’s noses.
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants. Â
Â
This familiar odor, never failed to get Mildred’s attention.  Coming from a large family of nine children, and raising and diapering her own five children, Mildred Olson was very familiar with her old friend, the familiar odor that announced that somebody had a “stockyard in their pants.†Â
Â
One Sunday morning, as the nursery was buzzing with the sound of mothers talking and babies jabbering, Mildred thought she might had caught a faint whiff of her “old friendâ€, that familiar odor.
Â
“I think I smell something.† She confided to another mom she was talking to in the nursery.  They bother could smell “something†wafting through the air.  Maybe it's just gas, Mildred thought, maybe somebody just tooted. Â
Â
With 14 infants and toddlers in the nursery that day, all of them under the age of two, in diapers and rubber pants, the passing of gas, or “tootingâ€, as Mildred called it, was not an unusual occurrence.
Â
Several times a day, Mildred and the other moms would smell “something†and then check the back of the baby’s diaper to see if they needed changing.  Passing gas, like the filling of the pants, happened throughout a typical Sunday morning in the nursery with so many little ones in diapers and rubber pants. Â
Â
Yet Mildred knew from experience of diapering babies that gas doesn’t linger in the air, like the smell of a freshly filled diaper.  No, this wasn’t gas, Mildred thought to herself as the odor lingered and grew stronger.  Someone in the nursery definitely needed their diaper changed.  It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
“Shoooo-wee!† Mildred said, deeply sniffing the air, and laying aside thought or doubt that she might be smelling gas.
Â
“I sure do smell something over here.  I am definitely smelling it. It smells like somebody’s got a stockyard in their pants.  Shooooo!â€
Â
Mildred and the other mom exchanged warm, motherly smiles as they both sniffed the air and suspiciously eyed the babies who were playing nearby where they were sitting.  The as both tried to ascertain where the tattletale odor was coming from, or should I say, who had produced the “stockyard in the pants†odor wafting up from their britches, Mildred fixated upon a rather large infant named William.
Â
William Gunderson was a frequent visitor to the church nursery on Sunday mornings.  A rather large, chubby 11 month-old, weight 42 pounds, William looked more like a toddler then an infant who wasn’t even walking yet.  In addition to being a frequent visitor to the nursery, William was also a “frequent stinker†in the nursery, often messing his pants while his Mother was in a another Sunday school class teaching the first graders.  Â
Â
“I think its Billy.† Mildred said, blushing as the air became thick with the smell of poop wafting through the air  the other mom smiled and nodded her head.  She too was suspecting that it was William Gunderson (Billy) who was needing a diaper change. Â
Â
As the chubby baby crawled over to get another toy on the floor, Mildred was right behind him, getting her nose closer to his bulky diapered bottom for a better sniff of the suspicious, tattletale odor she had detected. Â William had reached his toy and was already chewing on it when Mildred was coming up behind him on her hands and knees sniffing his bottom and wrinkling up her nose.
Sniff, sniff.
Â
“Oh shoooo!  I thought I was smelling something.  Goodness.
I knew it was Billy.  Shooo-wee!  It smells like a stockyard in his pants.â€
Â
All the moms in the nursery were watching Mildred sniff William’s bottom as he absentmindedly chewed on his baby toy covered in slobber.  They were giggling and smiling as Mildred took another sniff of his diapered bottom sticking up in the air, smelling like poop.
Â
Sniff, sniff.
Â
“Peee-yew Billy!  Oh my goodness gracious!  Oh honey you stink!  Shoooo!  It smells like somebody’s got a stockyard in their pants.â€
Â
Of course at 11 months of age, William Gunderson was too young to know that he just messed his diapers in the church nursery and now Mildred and the other moms were smelling the familiar odor of poop wafting through the air of the nursery. Â Â
Â
The chubby infant who was concentrating on his toy, paid no attention as Mildred gently pulled open the back his outfit to peek into his diaper for a “visual†inspection of how full his pants were.  At that age, William Gunderson was unaware of the pungent odor wafting up from his bottom, or the fact that Mildred was checking his pants to confirm what her nose was telling her.   Â
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
Slipping her finger into the elastic waistband of his rubber pants, Mildred pulled back his cloth diaper and looked down inside to see how much the infant had messed and how big of a “job†it was.
Â
“Oh dear,†she said, feigning surprise at seeing the huge brown mess that filled the back of his diaper and covered his chubby bottom.
Â
“It looks like somebody’s got a stockyard in their pants.  Shoooo!  Somebody needs their diaper changed.  Shooo-wee billy!  You stink!’
Â
Gently picking up the baby, Mildred carried him to the changing table, softly patting his full, diapered bottom, smiling a motherly smile. Â The infant was remarkably docile for his diaper change, cooing to Mildred as she laid him on the table and began removing his baby outfit, rubber pants, and unpinning his very dirty diaper. Â Â
Â
Of course every mom in the nursery wanted to watch Mildred change William’s pants, and they all commented on the pungent “stockyard†smell wafting up from the changing table.  Mildred often wondered what drew the other moms to the changing table when a baby was getting their poopy diaper changed.  Perhaps it was just something that all moms enjoy, an odd quirk of mothers who always want to watch someone else wipe and powder a messy baby bottom.
Â
Whatever it was, babies with stinky diapers lying on a changing table, always drew a small gathering of moms in the church nursery when Mildred was busy changing their pants.  As the moms gathered around the changing table, waving their hands under their noses, fanning the air to “shoo-away†the smell as Mildred pinned William’s poopy diaper, pulling back his legs, to reveal a very messy bottom, covered in a soft, brown mess.
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like somebody had a stockyard in their pants. Â
Â
There were plenty of giggles, smiles and blushes, as Mildred began wiping the mess off of William’s bottom with a warm, wet washcloth.  All the moms kept saying, “Shoooo!†as Mildred wiped his poopy bottom, and, “Oh he stinks!  Shooo-wee!â€
Â
“Yes, he’s quite stinky this morning.† Mildred said, firming holding the baby by the ankles, wiping all the brown mess off of his fat, chubby bottom, as the “stockyard smell’ wafted up all around them.
Â
“Billy made a stockyard in his pants this morning.† She added,  smiling and giggling as the other moms were trying to hold their breath, pinch their noses, and fan the air around them, saying, “Shooo!â€
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled somebody had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
After she had properly wiped William’s messy bottom, Mildred took a soft and very thick double diaper and slipped it undernieth the chubby infant as he lay on the changing table, slobbering and still chewing on his plastic toy.  Of course William Gunderson was too young to know that he was being watched by several moms who had gathered around the changing table to watch Mildred change his dirty diaper.
Â
Being naked from the waist down, William pulled his legs back and played with his feet as Mildred powdered his chubby bottom with baby powder, smileing a motherly smile as the 11 month-old cooed and jabbered to her.  The other moms watching were smiling too, watching Mildred lovingly dust the baby’s bottom with baby powder.
Â
Once the infant was thoroughly powdered, Mildred pulled the thick double diaper up between his legs, and with a single diaper pin, she pinned William gunderson into a fresh clean diaper, smelling like baby powder.  Mildred was just pulling on a fresh clean pair of rubber baby pants over his thickly diapered bottom, when his Mother came into the nursery.  The familiar odor, that “stockyard in the pants†smell was still hanging in the air over the changing table along with the sweet smell of baby powder. Â
Â
There was a familiar smell in the Church Nursery.
The sweet smell of a freshly powdered baby.
Â
“Smells like somebody’s been busy.† His mother said, as she walked into the nursery and detected the smell of poop and baby powder wafting through the air with her son on the changing table.
Â
“Oh yes!† Mildred said, smiling a motherly smile, and pulling on William’s baby britches up over his thick diapers and rubber pants.
Â
“Billy was awful busy in his britches this morning.  Goodness gracious.  This little cutie patootie had a stockyard in his pants.â€
Â
William’s mother smiled and giggled at Mildred calling it a “stockyard†in his pants.  Her son’s dirty diapers were quite pungent, but she had never considered the smell like a “stockyard†until now.
Â
“Eleanor and I kept smelling something,† she told William’s mother.  “At first we thought it was just gas, because somebody’s always tootin in here.  But then the smell just lingered and I knew that somebody had just messed their britches because it smelled like a stockyard in the pants.  I suspected that it might be Billy because he hadn’t done his business all morning like he usually does, so I figured that he probably filled his pants while I was talking to Eleanor.  And sure enough, when I checked his britches, and looked and smelled just like a stockyard in his pants.â€
Â
William’s mom couldn’t help by smile as Mildred handed her a freshly powdered and diapered baby ready to go home with his mommy.
Â
There was a familiar smell in the Church Nursery.
The sweet smell of a freshly powdered baby.
Â
   Â
It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
On Sunday mornings in 1946, just after the war had ended Mildred Olson always served in her Church Nursery, which was in a large Lutheran Church, in Eden Prairie, Minnesota. Â
Â
Mildred loved babies. Â After she lost her husband in the war, and now that her five children were out of diapers, Mildred Olson missed the days of bottle feedings and dirty diapers. Â
Â
Yes, Mildred Olson missed changing dirty diapers.  The native Minnesotan wasn’t disgusted or bothered by the smell and mess that babies make in their pants.  Far from it.  The daughter of Swedish immigrants, Mildred Olson grew up in Minnesota “changing the pants†of babies who dirtied them.  Large families, and dirty diapers were a natural part of life in Minnesota back in those days.  Mildred always thought of the smell as, “a stockyard in the pants.†Â
Â
On a typical Sunday morning, Mildred would enter her Lutheran Church through the front door and start walking down the hall to the nursery where she was a volunteer nursery attendant. Â Â Along the way she greeted the Pastor and his wife, chatted with some other ladies in her Sunday school class, and clutched her Bible close to her bosom; a constant source of healing comfort since her husband died. Â
Â
About halfway down the hall, as Mildred approached the open half-moon door to the nursery, the nursery abuzz with the sound of babies crying and jabbering, an “old friend†greeted her: it was the familiar odor of a freshly filled diaper wafting through the air.  Mildred thought it smelled like a stockyard in someone’s pants.
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like somebody had a stockyard in their pants. Â Â Â
Â
Her “old friend†was always there, just hanging in the air after a baby dirtied their diapers.  It thickened the air of the nursery, and wafted out the door, reaching (and wrinkling) everyone’s noses.
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants. Â
Â
This familiar odor, never failed to get Mildred’s attention.  Coming from a large family of nine children, and raising and diapering her own five children, Mildred Olson was very familiar with her old friend, the familiar odor that announced that somebody had a “stockyard in their pants.†Â
Â
One Sunday morning, as the nursery was buzzing with the sound of mothers talking and babies jabbering, Mildred thought she might had caught a faint whiff of her “old friendâ€, that familiar odor.
Â
“I think I smell something.† She confided to another mom she was talking to in the nursery.  They bother could smell “something†wafting through the air.  Maybe it's just gas, Mildred thought, maybe somebody just tooted. Â
Â
With 14 infants and toddlers in the nursery that day, all of them under the age of two, in diapers and rubber pants, the passing of gas, or “tootingâ€, as Mildred called it, was not an unusual occurrence.
Â
Several times a day, Mildred and the other moms would smell “something†and then check the back of the baby’s diaper to see if they needed changing.  Passing gas, like the filling of the pants, happened throughout a typical Sunday morning in the nursery with so many little ones in diapers and rubber pants. Â
Â
Yet Mildred knew from experience of diapering babies that gas doesn’t linger in the air, like the smell of a freshly filled diaper.  No, this wasn’t gas, Mildred thought to herself as the odor lingered and grew stronger.  Someone in the nursery definitely needed their diaper changed.  It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
“Shoooo-wee!† Mildred said, deeply sniffing the air, and laying aside thought or doubt that she might be smelling gas.
Â
“I sure do smell something over here.  I am definitely smelling it. It smells like somebody’s got a stockyard in their pants.  Shooooo!â€
Â
Mildred and the other mom exchanged warm, motherly smiles as they both sniffed the air and suspiciously eyed the babies who were playing nearby where they were sitting.  The as both tried to ascertain where the tattletale odor was coming from, or should I say, who had produced the “stockyard in the pants†odor wafting up from their britches, Mildred fixated upon a rather large infant named William.
Â
William Gunderson was a frequent visitor to the church nursery on Sunday mornings.  A rather large, chubby 11 month-old, weight 42 pounds, William looked more like a toddler then an infant who wasn’t even walking yet.  In addition to being a frequent visitor to the nursery, William was also a “frequent stinker†in the nursery, often messing his pants while his Mother was in a another Sunday school class teaching the first graders.  Â
Â
“I think its Billy.† Mildred said, blushing as the air became thick with the smell of poop wafting through the air  the other mom smiled and nodded her head.  She too was suspecting that it was William Gunderson (Billy) who was needing a diaper change. Â
Â
As the chubby baby crawled over to get another toy on the floor, Mildred was right behind him, getting her nose closer to his bulky diapered bottom for a better sniff of the suspicious, tattletale odor she had detected. Â William had reached his toy and was already chewing on it when Mildred was coming up behind him on her hands and knees sniffing his bottom and wrinkling up her nose.
Sniff, sniff.
Â
“Oh shoooo!  I thought I was smelling something.  Goodness.
I knew it was Billy.  Shooo-wee!  It smells like a stockyard in his pants.â€
Â
All the moms in the nursery were watching Mildred sniff William’s bottom as he absentmindedly chewed on his baby toy covered in slobber.  They were giggling and smiling as Mildred took another sniff of his diapered bottom sticking up in the air, smelling like poop.
Â
Sniff, sniff.
Â
“Peee-yew Billy!  Oh my goodness gracious!  Oh honey you stink!  Shoooo!  It smells like somebody’s got a stockyard in their pants.â€
Â
Of course at 11 months of age, William Gunderson was too young to know that he just messed his diapers in the church nursery and now Mildred and the other moms were smelling the familiar odor of poop wafting through the air of the nursery. Â Â
Â
The chubby infant who was concentrating on his toy, paid no attention as Mildred gently pulled open the back his outfit to peek into his diaper for a “visual†inspection of how full his pants were.  At that age, William Gunderson was unaware of the pungent odor wafting up from his bottom, or the fact that Mildred was checking his pants to confirm what her nose was telling her.   Â
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like someone had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
Slipping her finger into the elastic waistband of his rubber pants, Mildred pulled back his cloth diaper and looked down inside to see how much the infant had messed and how big of a “job†it was.
Â
“Oh dear,†she said, feigning surprise at seeing the huge brown mess that filled the back of his diaper and covered his chubby bottom.
Â
“It looks like somebody’s got a stockyard in their pants.  Shoooo!  Somebody needs their diaper changed.  Shooo-wee billy!  You stink!’
Â
Gently picking up the baby, Mildred carried him to the changing table, softly patting his full, diapered bottom, smiling a motherly smile. Â The infant was remarkably docile for his diaper change, cooing to Mildred as she laid him on the table and began removing his baby outfit, rubber pants, and unpinning his very dirty diaper. Â Â
Â
Of course every mom in the nursery wanted to watch Mildred change William’s pants, and they all commented on the pungent “stockyard†smell wafting up from the changing table.  Mildred often wondered what drew the other moms to the changing table when a baby was getting their poopy diaper changed.  Perhaps it was just something that all moms enjoy, an odd quirk of mothers who always want to watch someone else wipe and powder a messy baby bottom.
Â
Whatever it was, babies with stinky diapers lying on a changing table, always drew a small gathering of moms in the church nursery when Mildred was busy changing their pants.  As the moms gathered around the changing table, waving their hands under their noses, fanning the air to “shoo-away†the smell as Mildred pinned William’s poopy diaper, pulling back his legs, to reveal a very messy bottom, covered in a soft, brown mess.
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled like somebody had a stockyard in their pants. Â
Â
There were plenty of giggles, smiles and blushes, as Mildred began wiping the mess off of William’s bottom with a warm, wet washcloth.  All the moms kept saying, “Shoooo!†as Mildred wiped his poopy bottom, and, “Oh he stinks!  Shooo-wee!â€
Â
“Yes, he’s quite stinky this morning.† Mildred said, firming holding the baby by the ankles, wiping all the brown mess off of his fat, chubby bottom, as the “stockyard smell’ wafted up all around them.
Â
“Billy made a stockyard in his pants this morning.† She added,  smiling and giggling as the other moms were trying to hold their breath, pinch their noses, and fan the air around them, saying, “Shooo!â€
Â
There was a familiar odor in the Church Nursery.
It smelled somebody had a stockyard in their pants.
Â
After she had properly wiped William’s messy bottom, Mildred took a soft and very thick double diaper and slipped it undernieth the chubby infant as he lay on the changing table, slobbering and still chewing on his plastic toy.  Of course William Gunderson was too young to know that he was being watched by several moms who had gathered around the changing table to watch Mildred change his dirty diaper.
Â
Being naked from the waist down, William pulled his legs back and played with his feet as Mildred powdered his chubby bottom with baby powder, smileing a motherly smile as the 11 month-old cooed and jabbered to her.  The other moms watching were smiling too, watching Mildred lovingly dust the baby’s bottom with baby powder.
Â
Once the infant was thoroughly powdered, Mildred pulled the thick double diaper up between his legs, and with a single diaper pin, she pinned William gunderson into a fresh clean diaper, smelling like baby powder.  Mildred was just pulling on a fresh clean pair of rubber baby pants over his thickly diapered bottom, when his Mother came into the nursery.  The familiar odor, that “stockyard in the pants†smell was still hanging in the air over the changing table along with the sweet smell of baby powder. Â
Â
There was a familiar smell in the Church Nursery.
The sweet smell of a freshly powdered baby.
Â
“Smells like somebody’s been busy.† His mother said, as she walked into the nursery and detected the smell of poop and baby powder wafting through the air with her son on the changing table.
Â
“Oh yes!† Mildred said, smiling a motherly smile, and pulling on William’s baby britches up over his thick diapers and rubber pants.
Â
“Billy was awful busy in his britches this morning.  Goodness gracious.  This little cutie patootie had a stockyard in his pants.â€
Â
William’s mother smiled and giggled at Mildred calling it a “stockyard†in his pants.  Her son’s dirty diapers were quite pungent, but she had never considered the smell like a “stockyard†until now.
Â
“Eleanor and I kept smelling something,† she told William’s mother.  “At first we thought it was just gas, because somebody’s always tootin in here.  But then the smell just lingered and I knew that somebody had just messed their britches because it smelled like a stockyard in the pants.  I suspected that it might be Billy because he hadn’t done his business all morning like he usually does, so I figured that he probably filled his pants while I was talking to Eleanor.  And sure enough, when I checked his britches, and looked and smelled just like a stockyard in his pants.â€
Â
William’s mom couldn’t help by smile as Mildred handed her a freshly powdered and diapered baby ready to go home with his mommy.
Â
There was a familiar smell in the Church Nursery.
The sweet smell of a freshly powdered baby.
Â
   Â
- Thu May 25, 2017 7:25 am
- Forum: "Storytime", by ab/dl's everywhere
- Topic: Doing Your Business
- Replies: 5
- Views: 8236
- Wed May 24, 2017 7:16 pm
- Forum: "Storytime", by ab/dl's everywhere
- Topic: Doing Your Business
- Replies: 5
- Views: 8236
Doing Your Business
The year was 1947. Â The war was over.
Harry S. Truman was President. Â Glenn Miller was on the radio.
And you were a baby in diapers and rubber pants.
Doing your business in your britches.
Â
Of course being a baby in diapers and rubber pants,
Drooling and jabbering, and making a mess in your drawers,
You didn’t have much privacy when you did your business.
Everyone in the room knew when the baby needed changing.
Â
Your business was especially your mother’s business,
When you did your business in your britches in 1947.
There was no hiding your bright red face from you mother.
Or the grunts, toots, and tattletale odor that wafted through the air,
When the baby made his business in his britches.
Â
Your mother loved to watch you when you were “busy.â€
Grunting and tooting with a bright red busy face.
Everyone in the room knew when the baby was “busy.â€
You couldn’t hide that tattletale odor you made in your pants,
As you toddled around the living room, tattling on yourself.
Â
“Shoooo!† Your mother would say, detecting a familiar smell.
“I think somebody needs a changing.  I smell something.â€
Â
Then, in front of all her guests, your mother would check your diaper.
She always playfully called it, “confirming her motherly suspicions.â€
You were unable to hide,
as your mother pulled back your diaper,
Confirming her suspicions,
by taking a peek into the seat of your pants.
Â
‘I thought I smelled something.† She told everyone in the living room.
There was NO hiding that smell,
from your mother or anyone else.
Everyone in the room knew when the baby needed a changing.
Glenn Miller was on the radio. Â Harry Truman was President.
And you were doing your business in your pants.
Your business was always your mother’s business.
When you did your business in your britches.
Â
Fresh diapers, baby powder, and a clean pair of rubber pants,
Were waiting for you, as your mother laid you down on the floor.
Changing your pants in front of everyone in the living room.
Babies don’t get privacy when they do their business in their pants.
Â
“Shoooo-wee!† Your mother said, wrinkling up her pretty nose.
Slowly unsnapping the snaps in your crotch, gently teasing you.
“Somebody stinks!  Shoooo!  The baby needs a changing!
Goodness gracious.  Somebody just filled their britches.â€
Â
Everyone in the room was watching your mother change your pants
They were smiling and giggling. Â Fanning their faces. Â Pinching their noses.
Everyone in the room could see what you had just did in your britches.
Â
Everybody knew when the baby needed changing.
Â
There was no hiding the mess in your pants,
as your mother grasped your ankles together,
And pulled your legs all the way back,
Lifting up your chubby, messy bottom,
to show everybody what you did in your diapers.
Â
Giggles, gasps, and unrestrained laughter erupted in the room,
As your mother loving wiped your chubby bottom in front of her guests.
"Shoooo!" Everybody said. Pinching their noses. Fanning their faces.
You didn’t any privacy back in 1947,
when you were still in diapers, Â
diapers and rubber pants,
with a single diaper pin just below the waist.
Doing your business in your britches, right there in the living room.
Â
“He always does his business when company comes over.â€
Your mother said, as she powdered your bottom with baby powder.
Â
With a single diaper pin, and a freshly folded cloth diaper,
The baby was diapered again, with a clean pair of rubber pants.
Everyone had watched your mother change your britches,
After you did your business in your pants.
Â
The war was over. Harry S. Truman was President.
And you were back in fresh diapers and rubber pants.
It was 1947, and you did your business in your britches.
And this always made your mother smile a motherly smile. Â
Harry S. Truman was President. Â Glenn Miller was on the radio.
And you were a baby in diapers and rubber pants.
Doing your business in your britches.
Â
Of course being a baby in diapers and rubber pants,
Drooling and jabbering, and making a mess in your drawers,
You didn’t have much privacy when you did your business.
Everyone in the room knew when the baby needed changing.
Â
Your business was especially your mother’s business,
When you did your business in your britches in 1947.
There was no hiding your bright red face from you mother.
Or the grunts, toots, and tattletale odor that wafted through the air,
When the baby made his business in his britches.
Â
Your mother loved to watch you when you were “busy.â€
Grunting and tooting with a bright red busy face.
Everyone in the room knew when the baby was “busy.â€
You couldn’t hide that tattletale odor you made in your pants,
As you toddled around the living room, tattling on yourself.
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“Shoooo!† Your mother would say, detecting a familiar smell.
“I think somebody needs a changing.  I smell something.â€
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Then, in front of all her guests, your mother would check your diaper.
She always playfully called it, “confirming her motherly suspicions.â€
You were unable to hide,
as your mother pulled back your diaper,
Confirming her suspicions,
by taking a peek into the seat of your pants.
Â
‘I thought I smelled something.† She told everyone in the living room.
There was NO hiding that smell,
from your mother or anyone else.
Everyone in the room knew when the baby needed a changing.
Glenn Miller was on the radio. Â Harry Truman was President.
And you were doing your business in your pants.
Your business was always your mother’s business.
When you did your business in your britches.
Â
Fresh diapers, baby powder, and a clean pair of rubber pants,
Were waiting for you, as your mother laid you down on the floor.
Changing your pants in front of everyone in the living room.
Babies don’t get privacy when they do their business in their pants.
Â
“Shoooo-wee!† Your mother said, wrinkling up her pretty nose.
Slowly unsnapping the snaps in your crotch, gently teasing you.
“Somebody stinks!  Shoooo!  The baby needs a changing!
Goodness gracious.  Somebody just filled their britches.â€
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Everyone in the room was watching your mother change your pants
They were smiling and giggling. Â Fanning their faces. Â Pinching their noses.
Everyone in the room could see what you had just did in your britches.
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Everybody knew when the baby needed changing.
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There was no hiding the mess in your pants,
as your mother grasped your ankles together,
And pulled your legs all the way back,
Lifting up your chubby, messy bottom,
to show everybody what you did in your diapers.
Â
Giggles, gasps, and unrestrained laughter erupted in the room,
As your mother loving wiped your chubby bottom in front of her guests.
"Shoooo!" Everybody said. Pinching their noses. Fanning their faces.
You didn’t any privacy back in 1947,
when you were still in diapers, Â
diapers and rubber pants,
with a single diaper pin just below the waist.
Doing your business in your britches, right there in the living room.
Â
“He always does his business when company comes over.â€
Your mother said, as she powdered your bottom with baby powder.
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With a single diaper pin, and a freshly folded cloth diaper,
The baby was diapered again, with a clean pair of rubber pants.
Everyone had watched your mother change your britches,
After you did your business in your pants.
Â
The war was over. Harry S. Truman was President.
And you were back in fresh diapers and rubber pants.
It was 1947, and you did your business in your britches.
And this always made your mother smile a motherly smile. Â
- Wed May 24, 2017 7:08 pm
- Forum: Adult Baby World
- Topic: Favorite Activity With Mommy!
- Replies: 7
- Views: 8676
I love for mommy to watch me do my business in my pants. :oops: There is something so intimate, so loving, so embarrassing, to stand or sit and mess your diapers while your mommy watches you and makes playful comments about what you are doing in your pants. :oops: I could live forever in THAT moment...
- Wed May 24, 2017 6:58 pm
- Forum: Adult Baby World
- Topic: Little triggers?
- Replies: 17
- Views: 20618
- Wed May 24, 2017 6:32 pm
- Forum: Phone A Mommy
- Topic: Places to change my diaper?
- Replies: 14
- Views: 14721
Nanny Brenda, you are definitely on to something about changing a diaper in either the church nursery or a church pew itself during a church service. :D SOOOOOO embarrassing! :oops: I have went to church for most of my life, and believe it or not, I have seen moms change babies and toddlers right th...
- Wed Mar 15, 2017 12:18 pm
- Forum: Anything about Anything Q&A
- Topic: Please Post MORE on Facebook!
- Replies: 2
- Views: 5197
- Tue Mar 14, 2017 12:20 pm
- Forum: Anything about Anything Q&A
- Topic: Please Post MORE on Facebook!
- Replies: 2
- Views: 5197
Please Post MORE on Facebook!
To Madison and her wonderful Mommies, I have only recently discovered the ABDL community on Facebook . Frankly I am blown away by the HUGE numbers of ABDLs on Facebook . I have only just started about 2 weeks ago "friending" people with diaper references on their profile and already I am ...
- Tue Mar 14, 2017 12:09 pm
- Forum: Phone A Mommy
- Topic: Do I Smell A Wet Diaper?
- Replies: 58
- Views: 107463
- Tue Mar 14, 2017 12:05 pm
- Forum: Phone A Mommy
- Topic: Relationships
- Replies: 6
- Views: 7983
- Mon Mar 13, 2017 12:06 pm
- Forum: Let's say HI!
- Topic: Mommys Here!
- Replies: 1
- Views: 4095
- Mon Mar 13, 2017 12:02 pm
- Forum: Adult Baby World
- Topic: Favorite bedtime stories
- Replies: 2
- Views: 4945
- Mon Mar 13, 2017 12:01 pm
- Forum: Adult Baby World
- Topic: favorite Disney Movie
- Replies: 16
- Views: 17016
- Mon Mar 13, 2017 11:55 am
- Forum: Adult Baby World
- Topic: what turns you on ?
- Replies: 5
- Views: 6616
- Sun Mar 05, 2017 1:50 pm
- Forum: Let's say HI!
- Topic: favorite diapers
- Replies: 10
- Views: 28109
I'M A 1950S BABY! :lol: Picture me in 1959.... Soft double cloth diapers, folded by my mommy for double thickness. :D Cute diapers pins: either blue teddy bear diaper pins, or yellow ducky diaper pins, snuggly pin the soft cloth diapers around my chubby thighs. Then, my thick double diapers, with c...
- Sun Mar 05, 2017 1:39 pm
- Forum: Let's say HI!
- Topic: punishment vs love
- Replies: 3
- Views: 5870
- Sun Mar 05, 2017 1:27 pm
- Forum: Let's say HI!
- Topic: My Intro
- Replies: 6
- Views: 8409
- Fri Feb 24, 2017 9:00 pm
- Forum: Ask A Mommy
- Topic: Facebook
- Replies: 10
- Views: 10063