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D_Rainger

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  1. Love is like the measles, all the worse when it comes late. To love is to place our happiness in the happiness of another. Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction. Love is a canvas furnished by Nature and embroidered by imagination. A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the perogative of the brave.
  2. Even as a little girl, I realized that something was different about me. I know I was preoccupied with my bodily functions. A very early memory is my mother putting pull-ups on me for a trip. I protested because I had been in panties for some time and already had a concept of things considered infantile. Above all I didn't want to be called a baby. My mother acted as if I was crazy and held me by the arm and forced me to put on the pants. My pleas and tears fell on deaf ears and I remember sulking in the back seat and hoping no one would see me in a diaper. Before long nature took its course and I began to have to relieve myself. I waited as long as I could before I asked to use the restroom. My mother laughed and just told me to go in my pull-ups. "That's why you are wearing them," she said. I distinctly remember the warmth seeping around me and the engorged diaper material pressing between my legs. I don't remember anything after this, whether my mom changed me or put another pull-up on me, but this one act altered my whole concept of what I had been taught. My toilet training had impressed on me that only babies used diapers and big girls always went in the potty. Now my mother was telling me that it was OK to go potty in my pants and that diapers were acceptable at times. My whole world seemed to be turned upside down. Now, I was fascinated. Before long I began asking my mother to let me play with diapers, putting them on and even wetting them on occasion. She seemed not to think this at all strange or out of the ordinary. And we still had diapers in the house even though I was an only child and more than four years old. The idea became cemented in my mind that wearing diapers was all right, even enjoyable, and that they could be used for playtime. When I was 5 my boy cousin visited. I had a little plastic doctor kit and I brought it out to use on him. We played in a conventional way, doing an examination, but this soon grew tiresome. I decided that we needed to do a more thorough exam. I got him to pull down his pants so I could see his penis. I had him bend over and I put the plastic thermometer in his little bottom. He promptly went and tattled to my mother and in retrospect, I can see she didn't know what to do about the situation. I wound up being made to stand in the corner for a short time and then all seemed to be forgotten. Soon I began to have dreams. I imagined things before I went to sleep. I began to relish the drowsy time before I drifted off. Rows of children were bent over and machines spanked them. Tubes from boy's penises were routed into their rectums. Boys and girls stood in a line, naked except for white plastic pants. Children wiggled and danced in desperation before they wet themselves. I didn't know what these dreams meant. They gave me a warm and relaxed feeling. These fervid dreams put me to sleep each night. When I was seven I had chickenpox. I felt miserable and languished in bed for three days. I couldn't do anything. I think the doctor prescribed something to tranquilize me to keep me from scratching. One scene replays over and over in my mind. I was taken from my bed in my nightgown. Two straight-backed chairs were set side-by-side in the bathroom. My father was seated on one of them and was holding a kidney basin with a red rubber bulb-shaped thing with a black plastic tip. I felt so horrible and sick that I put up no fight when my mother sat down next to my father and I was laid lengthwise across their laps. I felt my cheeks being spread open. The cold tip went into my bottom. A rush of something began to fill me up. Again and again I felt myself getting fuller and fuller. I wanted it to stop, but my head was swimming. I was carried to the toilet and I felt slippery and squirmy where the thing had gone in my bottom. It seemed like I was exploding when I had a movement, like my insides were coming out. Oddly, when it was over, I felt better. But when I went back to bed a few minutes later, I accidentally messed myself. My mother was upset. She stripped me down and pulled all the sheets off my bed. "Don't you move!" she warned. She cleaned me up like a little baby. Having an enema forced on me was a little bit like being raped. I mean, it was totally out of my control. Someone else was intruding on my body without asking. Then I was made to feel like an infant because I had an accident. I was confused beyond measure. My first orgasm came when I was wearing thick cotton training pants that I had stolen from the little neighbor boy. It seemed like my body had taken control over my mind. I couldn't stop rubbing myself until I felt like I was turning inside out. I lay panting and drenched in sweat. Immediately I felt guilty. Was something wrong? Had I hurt myself? Was my body supposed to do that? I was convinced I was dying. I almost came asking my parents. I lived in anguish and torture for quite a while until I discovered that other little girls masturbated, too, and that it was very common. My inner life took me to sexual gratification each day after school. I fantasized about the little boys in my class. I imagined them in agony needing to go to the restroom. I could see them sitting at their desks and squirming until they wet themselves. At the same time I would climax. I outgrew the diapers we had around the house and my mother threw them away. My friend had a slumber party. I learned that one of the girls was a bedwetter. I was entranced. I could see her protective underpants through her pajamas. I wanted to be close to her, to touch her, to feel her diaper. I wanted to be her, to be inside her. What was it like to wet at night? Thinking about having to wear diapers for wetting uncontrollably made me feel hot and funny. After going to great lengths to befriend the bedwetter and being invited to her house, I was able to get one of her bedwetter pants. Oh! I was in ecstasy. I could hardly wait to get home and into my own room. I ran upstairs and slammed the door. I whipped my clothes off and with that first feel of scratchy/papery pull-up, I was in heaven. What snug comfort. What bulk and padding between my legs. The feeling made me incredibly horny. That was the first time I got off in a diaper. I wore those pullups until they were literally falling apart. I put them on each time I pleasured myself after school. I hid them carefully so my mother wouldn't find them. I never got a chance to wet them, but I fantasized about it. I couldn't get any diapers, so I tried something else. I put on layer after layer of panties. I loved the bulky feeling and the way it forced my legs apart. When I tried to masturbate it was like I was wrapped in insulation. I could barely feel myself. I loved the tension and effort it took to climax. But I wanted more. It occurred to me that I could simulate an accident by drinking a lot and trying to hold it. I planned for a week or so and then one afternoon I started with a tall glass of water. I was wearing a tank top and yellow shorts. I had on about 10 pairs of underpants. I kept drinking and wondering if anything was ever going to happen. When I started to feel full, I wandered over to a grove of trees across the street from our house. I brought a water bottle with me and continued to drink. I held it as long as I could. I was hoping that my body would just decide to pee on its own, but that didn't happen. In fact it was just the opposite. When I tried to go, I couldn't. Very painfully, I pushed out a drop or two. I had waited too long. Disappointed, I tried to relax and be able to relieve myself. I went back home and for the rest of the afternoon I had to pee about every twenty minutes. I began to have a collection of things that I used to help me masturbate. One of my prized possessions was a pair of little boy's underpants that had been wet and left in the park. They were visibly stained in the front and even smelled vaguely of pee after being stored for months. I had the training pants I had stolen. I had a little blue bulb syringe that I could use to give myself enemas. I imagined what it would be like to be a boy with his little penis and wetting his diaper. I made a fake penis that I could wear in my underpants so I could feel what it was like. I wished I could make it so I could pee through it like a boy. I kept that pseudo-phallus in my collection too. I turned to petty crime. Before I had only taken things from people's homes, but now I went to a local department store. I discovered that they sold toddler sized plastic pants. I put my nose close to them in the display and smelled the virgin vinyl. I knew I had to have a pair. I planned and plotted and tried to summon up my courage. To just buy a pair was out of the question. I knew I had to steal them. I decided I would just do it. I walked casually by the display and took a pair. I walked around the corner and tucked them inside my jacket. I grabbed some Milkyway bars and paid for them at the counter. I walked right out the front door. Nobody even noticed! I loved those baby pants. They were snug and it felt like I was encased in plastic. I wore them under my panties to dinner that night. They were hot and sweaty and made me feel slippery. I took them in the shower and discovered more slipperiness. I put the soap inside and lathered myself. The incredible sliddery, slithery feeling made me weak in the knees. I pulled the waistband open and let them fill up with warm shower water. It was like I was walking in a water balloon. I climaxed over and over and had to lean against the wall in the shower and hold myself up. I began to be wracked with guilt. Stealing was naughty. Masturbation was naughty. Keeping secrets from your parents was naughty. Thinking naughty thoughts was naughty. I was naughty. The girls at school were beginning to talk more and more about boys. There was a boy I liked. But I wondered, "what would he think if he knew I wore plastic pants or liked to give myself enemas?" I was paralyzed. Who could I talk to? My parents had never understood me. I had no brothers or sisters. I hid my real life from my friends. I was sure there was nobody else like me in the world. I despaired. I tried to break my masturbation habit, but whenever I got tired or blue I was drawn magnetically to the pleasure and release I could give myself. It continued day after day. I felt worse and worse. I made a big miscalculation. Seeking ever more gratification, I decided to take some laxative to see what would happen. I did this on a Friday night. By Saturday evening nothing had happened and I pretty much forgot that I had ever done anything. That particular Sunday, my mother wanted me to go to church with her, something that rarely happened. I was required to wear a dress and tights. On the way to the service, my insides clenched. I uncontrollably messed my panties. I was in shock. I told my mother that I had an accident. I had to sit in my own excrement all the way home. By the time I made it to the bathroom I had brown streaks down the back of my tights and my panties were ruined. To my utter embarrassment, my mother made me undress in front of her and she had me rinse out my own clothes in the sink. I learned to be careful what I did. I also learned what I liked and didn't like and that clean up can be a bitch. I began to get breasts and hair. I longed to get my period and have to wear a pad. I thought it would be like a diaper. I took them from my mother and wore them around the house. I could wet them a little bit, then I would rub myself until I reached climax. Much to my dismay, I found my period uncomfortable and having to wear sanitary protection a pain. Something amazing did happen one time when I visited my grandmother. We were talking about girl things and she began telling me what girls used to have to wear for protection years ago. "Wait a minute," she said. She went and got a belt and a bag of thick Kotex napkins. "Try one on if you want," she said, "See how much better you girls have it today." She let me keep them and I added them to my collection. I was enthralled with boys and their penises. I wanted to be a boy and wet myself. I devised a strap-on attachment and wore it in my pants. I amassed an assortment of boy's clothes and I would put them on. I lay back on my bed with my boy's pants and underpants down and I pretended to masturbate with my fake boy's penis. I could feel it in my own clitoris and I could climax. It made me feel like a boy. Disaster struck. I was masturbating in my room with my boy stuff. In the midst of my frenzy, the door opened and my mother caught me in the act. She summoned my father and he surveyed the scene. I was twelve years old and immediately ostracized by my family. Within days I was packed up and shipped off to an "academy" for girls. But that is the next part of my story.
  3. Perhaps you will find a better place and this will turn out to be a good thing. If he doesn't want you there then you probably don't want to be there either. At one point in my life I was homeless with a wife and two kids. Some of my friends stepped in and let me live in a vacant house for a few months. -DR
  4. I must admit I didn't read all the posts on this thread. I do want to say that I don't come here very often because of the attitude of many that make comments. I have fairly thick skin, but when I come to a site for a little fun and enjoyment, I don't want to be made to feel like I'm an idiot and an asshole. I have all kinds of things to share, but I'm reluctant because of the response I get. -DR
  5. It is interesting to see the evolution of this topic since I started it in 2007. "No Child Left Behind" has not proved to be the spark for education that the Bush administration hoped it would be. Now Obama is wanting to step beyond it and offer exemptions from the mandate and other changes for certain schools. Perhaps we should go back to the one-room school model when students got individualized education and were permitted to progress at their own rate. It is a dream, however, and we are stuck with mass-produced education that provides not much more than drones to populate the hive. I'm still facinated by diapers in the school room. Four years have past, Could this have been a headline this fall? -DR DIAPERS MORE COMMON IN THE CLASSROOM APX News Worldwide Labor Day is now behind us and our children are starting back for another year of school. This time it isn't just cell phones, mp3 players, and tablet computers that are going back with them. A surprising number of student are packing protection. No, not weapons, but protection of another sort: More and more school aged children are wearing protective undergarments into the classroom. Tight budgets, locked facilities, school security, strict educational requirements, and even bullying are keeping students from using school bathrooms and forcing them to sit uncomfortably in the classroom or find an alternative. Apparently, the alternative has become increasingly popular. "Just five years ago," says Jake Preston, principal of Bayside Elementary School, Scranton, Pennsylvania, "the fear of being caught in diapers by their peers would have been more than adequate to keep anything viewed as infantile no where near the classroom, but now, with the advent of absorbent underpants for bedwetters, larger size pull-ups for older children, web sites that cater to kids with wetting problems, and even so-called pre-teen and teen diaper communities, undergarments designed for incontinence are becoming more common at school and are accepted as an alternative to the embarassment of wet and soiled clothing." Teachers report students proclaiming certain brands of pull-ups and designs as "cool". "It seems to be the popular thing right now to show up in the classroom with the top of your protective underpants showing above your jeans," said Dev Barton, a fourth grade teacher from Barstow, California. She adds: "I hardly ever have a student raise his or her hand to leave the classroom any more. For me as an educator it is a godsend." Parents too, are extoling the virtues of wearing protection. No more calls from the school asking for a change of clothes, fewer pleas from the children to "let me stay home today". Some parents are convinced that their children are performing better in the classroom, too. "Since Mandy has been wearing pull-ups, she has gone from a C student to a high B. I think she is paying better attention because she isn't worrying about the washroom," says parent Cee Cee Daniels. Another parent, Bob Anderson says, "Initially, Devon resisted wearing anything he thought resembled a diaper. After a couple of close calls, he relented and went to school one day in pull-ups. Now he says they are his 'power pants,' and he won't leave the house without them." Perhaps the most convincing evidence comes from schools that have had to go into lockdown because of security issues. In those intense situations, students may not be allowed to leave the classroom for hours. In the past accidents were commonplace, sometimes with devastating consequences. Humiliation, post-traumatic stress, fear of returning to school, bedwetting, and even daytime incontinence have all been reported by youngsters that have wet or soiled themselves as a consequence of being held in the classroom for security reasons. Now it is being reported that students wearing protection during these incidents fare much better afterward, are able to return to class sooner, and are not showing the same ill effects as unprotected students. Diaper manufacturers have been quick to jump on the bandwagon and are now marketing "school pants" featuring designs with tie-ins to popular movie figures . For older kids there are "low-rise" style panties for girls, and boxers for boys that provide wetting protection. Rumors are even circulating of "thong" style diapers for teens. Incredible as it may seem, diapers in school appear to be here to stay. Parents and educators are hailing it as a step forward for education, and even the kids themselves appear to be taking advantage of something that only a short time ago would have been virtually unheard of. Franklin Jones, correspondent, Madison, Wisconsin
  6. Gentlepeople: You are missing a great opportunity to be encouraged and rejoice that one person at least was able to overcome terrible adversity and turn out fairly normal. -DR
  7. I quit celebrating birthdays and Christmas in 1980. -DR
  8. Has anybody read Jaycee Dugard's memoir "A Stolen Life"? -DR
  9. "As the twig is bent, so the tree grows." I have a memory of going to a party and seeing a little girl perhaps 7 or 8 exposing herself accidentally on a swing. She had plastic pants on under her dress. She was pretty upset about it and slapped me across the face for seeing her. My love of diapers had started long before that, however. -DR
  10. Here in the states you are entitled to a copy of your birth certificate if you know the state and/or county you were born in. If you were not adopted the certificate should list both parents. Perhaps there is something similar that is available in Great Britian. I have had real good success tracking people down for genealogical purposes using this method. This way you don't even need your mum. -DR
  11. Mental illness is difficult to define. I recently ran across the concept of "successful schizophrenia" refering to individuals who suffer from the mental disorder but are able to integrate successfully into society. I think many practicing abdls are able to keep their paraphilia at bay and not be controlled by it. There probably isn't anyone here who doesn't have some degree of emotional or psychological disfunction. Does it differ from the incidence in the general population? Your guess is as good as mine. -DR
  12. When does she start wetting the bed? -DR
  13. I'm a jack-of-all-trades. I worked a number of years as an auto mechanic. My wife and I did a short time with the U.S. Forest Service. I worked as a machine tool operator for seven years then I bought a franchise and ran that for another seven years. Right now I'm a systems operator at a large warehouse and have been there thirteen years. I'm looking for a job that I can do from out of my house hoping that will take me into the future. -DR
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