Cory 1-844-332-2639 ext 407
I remember the first time I truly embraced my role as an ABDL Mama. It wasn’t some grand revelation under a disco ball, it was more like a slow, creeping realization. Things began innocently enough, with a few playful indulgences. But before I knew it, my linen closet was less about sheets and more about industrial-sized diaper bundles. And my mornings routinely kicked off with a debate over whether the “baby” preferred his pureed squash or a somewhat lumpy oatmeal.
The alarm clock wasn’t just ringing anymore; it was practically a lullaby for grown men in footie pajamas, and I frequently found myself trying to decipher complex grunts and gurgles. To anyone else, they would sound like a malfunctioning plumbing system but, to me, they were clearly demands for more juice. My grocery runs became legendary. Gone were the days of buying kale and quinoa! My trips to the grocery store are more about a veritable convoy of baby wipes, oversized onesies, and enough powdered formula to feed a small army. An army that, conveniently, always needed a nap after consuming said formula.
