Trading Post

Hello all 1st let me back up with my Diaper use! I started using off, and on after stealing a couple of my niece's Baby Cloth Baby Diapers, I was about 12. Hmm! I bought a pack of them at the grocery store occasionally and would wet them. Somewhere along the way, I learned Cummie in the Diaper before I would throw them away. I did this off and on and almost got caught. I bought a pack many years later, after I got married and we were living in a smallish house with our son and daughter, well, our son was playing with a lighter and started a fire. We got it out. It was mainly smoke, but where he was playing, I had hidden some diapers (Pampers LG.) Anyway, neither of them has worn Diapers for a few years, and my wife looked at me as I occasionally would wet myself. I said nope not me. So, we moved again, and my job had me living a long way away from my family. I was alone with the Dog. I went out and bought some adult Disposable Diapers, and I ordered some Real Cloth Diapers, Plastic Pants, and Pins. I could wear it whenever I felt like it. I was in a High STRESS Job. This helped a lot. That lasted for a few years. The job ended, and I moved back home.  In November 2020, COVID-19 hit, and my wife went to a meeting with some of the girls, and she contracted COVID-19 and gave it to me. I was hospitalized for a Month and a Half and Intubated and put under for 21/2 weeks. I was brought out of it and moved to a private room. I had a catheter in me, and after a day or so, a Couple of Techs removed it.  I did not go Potty for about 24 hours; they came in and drained me. Then I started wetting the bed, and of course, they had to change the sheets, oh boy. This happened a couple more times, and the Nurses were not happy! But my body was not telling me I had to go potty, I just started wetting the bed!! Oh Boy! Well, at 1230 or 1:00 am, the Overnight Nurse comes into my room carrying an armload of Disposable Diapers. After some discussion, she put a Diaper on me. Now 51/2 years later, I wear my Diapers and Plastic Panties 24/7 365. There has been NO SEX between Me and My Wife since about Jan. Feb. 2021. I work P/T and wear diapers everywhere I go as I am an Incontinent AB/DL. 

I looked up to you "Hi no i didn't have much trouble getting here.. well maybe alittle with the driver but it's fine i am here now". I enter inside as i get amazed at the open look of your home as i never been in a house this nice before.  "Thanks for helping me with my stuff and for giving me the chance to live here" i turn back to look to you as i stood there wearing a pink tshirt with white flowers on it and light blue jean shorts as the outfit looked alittle big on me.

is there anyone else on here who have experimented with toilet paper back when they were adolescence? My favorite was the scented angel soft or white cloud we had. It was usually white cloud, but sometimes Mom would get angel soft. But I remember the first time I did this like it was yesterday. Below is an excerpt from a manuscript I had written only for my own enjoyment, and for those who know I am ABDL.   It was in the middle of spring, 1991,  that I decided to act on a dream I'd had during the night of Wednesday, April 10–a dream so vivid, so intense that I awoke with a start to find that I was lying on the top bunk with the shakes; however, these were not tremors of fear, but sheer excitement.   My talking calculator chimed and announced the time, the volume turned low enough to be noticeable without disturbing anyone. "It is now 1:00 AM," the electronic male voice said, and I could lie there no longer. Quietly, I climbed down the wooden ladder at the foot of the beds, loaded a piece of paper into my braille writer, and working as quietly as possible, I wrote:   "I want to try something I had just dreamed. My wish has always been somehow to gurr in my pants and get away with it. My dream was so real that it seemed like I was really doing it. I made a diaper-like pad using toilet paper, and I gurred in it and had fun like when I was two. It felt so real that I woke up. I checked my talking calculator and the time is 1:00 AM on the morning of Thursday, April 11, 1991."   I couldn't go back to sleep because by now, I was wide awake. So I read my Social Studies book to pass the time, and Mom dropped us off at school at 8:00. Of course, when I got home that afternoon, I was bone tired, but I muddled through, and I crashed earlier than usual. The time was 7:30 PM, and shortly after my head hit my pillow, I was out.   Thursday came and went, and finally, Friday. The school day passed slowly, and after doing my homework, I joined mom and my little brother at the kitchen table, and we ate bowls of chili. I joined mom and my little brother at the kitchen table, and we ate bowls of chili.   6 PM   The old siren on the water tower blew, announcing the 6 o’clock hour, just as supper time wrapped up. That sound always transported me back in time to my toddler years, during which I listened to that same siren as it blew. After finishing our chili, we excused ourselves and pushed in our chairs. Mom gathered the bowls, carried them to the sink, and prepared to wash them.   Meanwhile, I, nervous, but excited, walked casually along the hallway that led from the kitchen to the bathroom and the large bedroom, which I shared with Matthew. Passing the refrigerator on the right, I continued straight ahead with a paneled wall on my left and the back door straight ahead of me. I then passed a small divider that separated the back of the refrigerator from The laundry area. As soon as I passed the washing machine, I turned to the left, then another, and I entered the bathroom, whose interior was not too small, and whose floor was covered with linoleum. The lights shown bright from their position on the wall above the mirror in back of the sink, and I could see it through my left eye, whose retina is not as badly attached as the one in the right. The classic fragrance of White Cloud bathroom tissue hung in the air, a smell I remember from my toddler years. If only diapers smelled like this stuff, I thought as I prepared to do my first experiment, an idea spawned from a dream little over two days ago. I wondered how the scent would affect the smell of a big, dry poop, the very thing that brought me such intense joy as a toddler, a thing I had begun referring to as gurr due to a sound I heard in my head as part of my synesthesia.   I closed and locked the bathroom door before walking to the toilet, pulling my pants down, and sitting on the lid. I was debating on whether or not to do this. I didn’t know if anyone would catch on. Finally, after a brief moment of hesitation, I decided to go for it. Reaching behind me, I took the role of White Cloud from the lid of the toilet tank. I sat there, rubbing the toilet paper with my fingers, enjoying its softness, which reminded me of the inner lining of a vintage Luvs diaper. Then I found the end of it and began to unroll it. I knew I would need quite a bit for my crafty project. So I had unrolled a few wrappings. A few seconds later, I tore the long strip from the roll, the perforations parting with a soft "rrrrrip," and I folded it end over end until I had a nice, long, thick, wide pad with which to line my underwear from front to back. My wish was to simulate the feel of a diaper.   My heart raced and my hands trembled as I formed the makeshift diaper, and it was all I could do to put the pad in exact alignment with the curve of my underwear. But finally, I did. After a minor adjustment, I pulled my underwear up and stood there, weighing my decisions. Then I went ahead, slipped my jeans from around my ankles, and removed my shirt and socks. I then stood there in nothing but my makeshift diaper, feeling ever so like the toddler boy I used to be–well, somewhat. Though it did give me the closest feel possible of a diaper as far as the bulk on my butt and between my legs was concerned, there was one special thing that was missing. I didn’t know how I would add that or if it would even be possible. But I missed the plastic, it’s crinkle, it’s feel, and I missed the feel of the tape tabs in front.   I stood there a moment, basking in the sensation, all the while imagining myself as a two-year-old. I really wanted to gurr in the diaper, but mentally, I wrestled with whether I should or shouldn’t do it. but finally, I decided it was now or never. And so it was, I relaxed and waited for the involuntary bowel movement to come.   Due to my bowel motility problems, I had to force my bowels to move on normal days. If I didn’t, they wouldn’t move at all until the mass was large enough that it stimulated the damaged nerve endings, which then caused involuntary movement. That usually occurred after a solid week, seven days of holding. Like clockwork, it would usually happen on a Friday or Saturday, depending on what my bowels decided to do. Sometimes, it would even occur on a Thursday depending on how much was processed and how big the mass was.   Finally, after a few minutes, my bowels decide d to move on their own. Standing slightly bent over in front of the toilet, my belly muscles tense and rigid just as when I was a toddler, I basked in the pleasure of that crawling, tingly sensation in my scalp brought on by the stimulation of my Vegas nerve. The feel of the firm gurr as it pushed its way into my diaper was something I hadn’t felt in little over 10 years, and it was almost overwhelming. The underwear held the pad of toilet paper snuggly against me. Just like when I was two years old, I heard that same sound in my mind, that sliding tone of my synesthesia as the gurr filled the back of my underwear.   When it was all over, I stood there a while, enjoying the way it felt, its warmth, it’s dry, waxy texture, and that soft tenor A3 hum generated by my synesthesia. The scent of the White Cloud mingled with the dry earthy aroma of the gurr, thus creating a smell that was oddly sweet and rather enjoyable. Reaching behind myself, I touched the bulge in the butt of the diaper, amazed by its size. As a toddler, I produced tennis ball sized stools as the firm mass would push against the padding of my diaper. This one was the approximate size of a baseball, and it was firm, like perhaps Play-Doh, not exactly rock hard, but not very squishy either. It was the right texture I enjoyed–slightly moist, modeled like perhaps a pealed banana, with very little if any residue.   I squatted just as I had done those many years ago, and I remained in that position for a few seconds, and just like when I was two years old, the load shifted forward and rested directly in the middle of my perineum, and the tone slid lower to that tenor G3 note and changed to its steady “gurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr,” which lasted the entire duration of the squat. I then stood back up, allowing the gurr to return to its original position. The adrenaline rush from the whole experience was incredible, and I felt warm and tingly all over. The butterflies danced in my belly as my whole body trembled, and I was overcome with a stronger feeling of euphoria.   Suddenly, I felt a strong sensation–like I had to pee. At the same time, oddly, the warmth of the gurr seemed to intensify, a feeling that stimulated every single nerve in my body or so it seemed. What I was going to do was pull down my underwear and urinate in the toilet before pulling them back on so I could enjoy the feel of my hot gurr. But before I could do anything at all, my knees gave out and I landed with a dull thud directly on my hot gurry butt atop the toilet lid. Intense waves of pure pleasure washed over me as the load flattened slowly to encompass my buttocks and perineal region as well as my lower back, and I was overcome with joy as the warmth intensified even more, causing my synesthesia to grow louder in volume. I hadn’t felt anything like this since I was a toddler. I felt my lips push into a hard quivering pucker as my spine went nerveless in a series of spasms, and I let out an involuntary moan, the sound rather high, yet chesty. My entire body twitched and trembled with delight and my heart raced wildly. My eyes rolled back in my head and my tongue stuck out as I drooled. I felt the muscles behind my eyes tighten as they worked, and I was over the edge.   After I came down from my crazed state of unbridled bliss, I stood from the toilet, enjoying the way it felt as the hot pancake of gurr shifted in my diaper, and I lowered myself to my belly, placed my fists between my legs, and humped on the area rug just as I had done as a toddler of one and two years of age on the living room, floor, and activity I referred to as yunging when in the prone position and gonking when grinding my diaper genitals against the car seat, buckle between my legs. Again, the excitement hit me like a tank. All the while, I replayed those memories of me yunging in gurry diapers in the middle of the living room floor or wherever else I was at the time. There was no grown-up connection to this, no dirty thoughts, just innocence; and in my present state, I knew there was no turning back. I had unlocked a previously locked door to my toddler domain, and I was going to continue to be a baby in private.   After several more minutes of fun, I discarded the mess in the toilet and flushed. Due to its dry waxiness, there was very little residue on my skin, and I was able to clean myself thoroughly. I slipped my pants on followed by my shirt and socks. I then exited the bathroom and went to my room, where I checked the time on my talking calculator. It was 6:30 PM. I didn’t realize how much time had gone by as I was too busy being a gurry little boy.   Unlike the messy IBS flare-ups, this felt just like I was two and in diapers, and there was absolutely no shame, no guilt. I was two again, free from the IBS; free from the harsh meds; free from the school bullies and the other things I had to deal with. It felt so good to be myself again, and I made a vow that I would allow myself to be small in private.   in the kitchen, Matthew and I played a game of Monopoly–Mom assisting me through the proper steps of moving the various items around the board. Then, at 8 o’clock, I returned to Mathew's and my room, laid out my PJs for later, and listen to the TGIF comedy lineup on the little color TV that’s sat on the dresser.   Sitting in the padded chair in front of my card table, my braille writer in front of me, I loaded a piece of rail paper into the machine and wrote in depth about the events of the day. I then concluded with the rich details of my private experiment, something that would become a Friday evening ritual just as long as my guts decided to cooperate. The text of that entry is as follows:   "Friday, April 12, 1991, 8:03 PM   I had somewhat of a good day at school. But I swear that if Michael doesn't quit calling me homosexual slurs, I am going to knock the fire out of him. After supper tonight, I decided to act on the dream I had yesterday, the one that woke me up from a dead sleep around 2:00 AM. I actually gurred in a makeshift diaper, and I was thrilled! I want to do it again, and I am looking forward to next Friday."   That night, Mom and us two boys sat in the living room and watched TV a while before heading off to bed. Then, around 11 o’clock, Matthew lay down on his bunk bed and I climbed up onto mine. Lying there, I couldn’t help but think of the joy I had reclaimed, something private, and secret that nobody would be able to take from me ever again.    

NO SOUP FOR YOU! @Frostybaby don't listen to him.  No spoilers are to be given here!   

Holding onto you as you picked me up I was so shocked how easy it was for you. Feeling helpless and still in shock as you placed me on your lap. I felt so small as you re-arranged me in your lap. Not wanting to meet your eyes, "Don't call me that. I mean is there anything less babyish? Wait what things?" I ask confused.