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I don't mean to be the negative name caller here but the last three posts by this guy scream trolling. Maybe I am wrong, I usually am, but seriously? This thread really has nothing to do with our lifestyle... Someone googling this lifestyle for the first time is going to see this site and these forums and the first thread they will see is "I can't get erections"...

Not sure how many understand what it means to be a Hermaphrodite? Really it is just a label for a birth defect In 7the grade I acted as an escort for a new boy on his first day, it has had a never ending effect on me. We soon became best friends then went on to become BF and GF outside of school in school we were just best friends but when we left school we went back to what we were Just to look back on the pain in her life then, by being forced to live as something she was not, and was not even happy as. In fact she hated. Remember the look on her face in the 8th grade when I paid for her to go to a beauty shop, and get the whole works done so we could go to a spring dance, and she was the best looking girl at the dance that night, she had guys falling all over then self’s trying to dance wither that night Funny the same guys that were calling her names during the day now were almost fighting over dancing with her. But the only other boys she danced with were to ones from our small group. Later we had dragons painted on our bedroom wall by her. Roberta dragon was a pinkish blue color and flew thought lots of fog banks on the wall While the other wall was my dragon and it was a bluish purple, and it flew many fights with demons and the both made the turn on the far wall and started to twist and dance with each other as then flew into a cloud then flew out and up on the roof as a beautiful golden dragon that she said was us in love. The love we shared was unreal with each other it was very different, then what other kids thought love was about. Love when you do not have the right or same parts as others of your same sex is very hard she had no female parts as when she was born there were partly outside her body so a doctor removed them, she had what was called a sudo penis and most male infants have a bigger one. That does not mean she did not get turned on the same as other girls, and once we learned how to light that fire we had lots of fun with words and touching but sex was still a different story. While many thing kids our ages could not have that understanding. While we may have only been 12 years old we both had years of taking drugs which made our body age way faster than other kids. Few can understand the pain of thinking no one will ever love you or even understand you or you will never feel the love other share as you watch other kids look at each other but you know deep inside you what you are living is a fake. The pain you feel from being different in other ways from kids too so you are called names or hit and kicked for no reason other than you are standing there, to be playing in your own front yard and have other boys put a bag over your head and beat you up then drag out into a field and repeatedly rape you then they call you names as do other kids for what they did to you, to the point your mother just packs up and moves to a different city many miles from where she works. To have to start all over at a new school knowing it will happen again as you just stand out from other kids, you are a least a foot shorter than they are You have flaming red hair, you now walk funny you now have a fear of others almost to a panic attack each time someone comes near you, to know that someday others will learn how different you are even in the smallest way like going to the bathroom you were diapers, and as soon as other learn that you will become the object of attack both verbally and physical by others. Then you are made to sit in an office as your mother talks to the office, and this other boy walks in with also flaming red hair. You have no idea of the pain of her loss all these years ago, for no reason really the pain she had to have when her new step father forced her to go back to being a male with the threat of abuse to her mother, with her letters going unanswered as the letters were being removed and just through in a big box you feel abandoned by the one you loved for over 5 years.

Been an Amazon customer and affiliate since 2000 and today i get a special package from them: A free Kindle Fire! Awesome!

in many ways it is like a cross dresser going out for the first time other then in her house or her play house she had to live as a boy and i loved her very much but she was a whimpy boy she was so small in todays would she would still be in a booster seat she would have never been able to drive her corevette she loved so much many guys just looked ather as she would walk over to her bike and start it the first kick always that thing fired up you hear storyins about harleys kicking back or indians kicking back think the worst bike i have ever started was her Ariel Square 4 even going to school the jocks would just look at her as she rode in the the front parking lot and parked her bike as i parked my flat head beside hers and we walked in tot he office so she could change clothes for school as we had dress codes we had to follow then

yes and i have a hard time writing stuff as my mind sees it right but it is writen wrong something to do with brun damage and being in a coma for so long after a plane crash in viet nam but that and a limpis about all the reasdue damage other diapers foe life

So.....I kinda feel like a jerk. Sorry. Its a rough story for anyone to live through.

agreed. an abusive relationship was one of the many events that eventually led to me becoming an ABDL, and it did not end until he went to prison for raping some other barely-teenage girl- simply because i was terrified of him. people like that that can play psychological games so twisted you can't even imagine, especially with someone vulnerable, and you don't have to be a preteen to be vulnerable. i have no doubt that had he not gone to prison he probably would have put me in the hospital eventually or killed me. obviously, this woman should have done something like go to a battered women's shelter or call the police, but i understand from a 'been there done that' standpoint why she didn't. i think the diaper fetish sounds like a tiny part of this and all in all he was a scumbag, and if what this woman is saying is the truth i have all the sympathy in the world for her and hope she gets off with a light sentence. also, interesting fact- this is obviously not always true and i don't mean to offend anyone, but a rather large percentage of rapists and abusers have jobs in the police force/military or similar positions like security guards because it puts them in a position of power.

i would also like to add a years supply of apple juice (magical apple juice that will never go bad) as i am drinking some warmed up out of my sippy cup and it is doing wonders for my cold. and since we have decided that ABDL Santa is magical, i concur with terryfighter and request a magical footed sleeper that appears to everyone else as fashionable 22-year-old-woman clothes, but every time i look in the mirror i see a pink microfleece (yes, microfleece!) footed sleeper with a hood and kitty ears xD also since we are cheating and asking ABDL Santa for non-abdl things i'd like a bunch of cashmere sweaters in all my favorite colors and a bazillion pairs of designer shoes

she was my wife

I'm not saying this to be mean but I'm so confused by that story. Is this you? Or just some girl you once knew and were thinking about her? Or is this fiction? Are you just thinking about the subtle differences in people? I just don't understand what the point of the story was. Again I'm not saying that to be mean. I just wanted to understand a little better. Are you just reminiscing on her and wanted to tell her story?

A: Learn to type. "there" is not "they're" or "their". "worthey" isn't even a word. "Y'all" is a contraction. "u" is a letter, not "you". B: If you've got such a problem with the company, don't buy from them.

I live in Southend, please give me a contact, pm or chat to meet up.

Chapter 20 As soon as I woke up, the nanny's hand shaking me gently to consciousness, I knew something was wrong. Normally, it could easily have been the fuzzy, unpleasant feeling in my head, or the equally unpleasant full sensation in my tummy, but this time it was something more alarming, and more obvious. As soon as I moved, I wrinkled my nose as I felt it, drowsily reaching towards my crotch to try to get rid of it, forgetting the mittens on my hands, attached to the sleeper around the rest of my body. That helplessness only made me more unhappy, as I stared down at myself, wriggling about, each action only reminding me more that the diaper I'd gone to bed in, the huge, thick thing that had been only a little damp the last thing I remembered, was now soaked. "Time to wake up, little one," the nanny said, smiling calmly at me even as I stared up at her in a panic. "We don't want you to be late." I watched helplessly as her hand moved down my body, pressing against the bulge of my diapers with a squish before I could think of a way to stop her. "Oh, my," she said, pressing again. "I think we'd better get you changed first, huh?" I blushed, unable to answer as she lifted me out of bed, unzipping my sleeper and pulling it off of me, giving both of us a full view of my diapers, very clearly well-used, sagging heavily inside my plastic pants, nearly threatening to pull those off my hips. "What have you been drinking?" she teased, leading me into the bathroom as I blushed profusely. She didn't bother with a bath, simply finishing the job of disrobing me and putting me under the shower, though she still took care of scrubbing me clean. When she was satisfied, she ordered me to, "Stay here," vanishing for just a moment before returning with a thick, disposable diaper in her hands. After her threats the night before, I'd known it was coming, but it still made my head hang, and nearly brought tears to my eyes. She dried me off and got me diapered up, then took me downstairs. The diaper was nowhere near as thick as my nighttime ones were, luckily, so I was able to walk down normally, while she carried my used ones with her, dropping them off in the laundry room while I tagged along. Something still felt off, somehow, and toddling around in nothing more than a diaper left me feeling especially vulnerable, so, even if it was she who'd put me in this position, she was still the most comforting presence around. Also, the only one. "Aww, I know you're hungry, sweetie," the nanny cooed at me as she turned around and saw me there. "Run along to the dining room and I'll bring you your breakfast." I shook my head without thinking about it. "I'm not hungry... I don't feel so good..." "Are you telling me no?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. I was quick to shake my head. "I didn't think so. Now, there's no need to be nervous, Holly - you've already been to school, so you have friends there waiting for you today! It shouldn't be nearly as scary, now, should it?" I stared at her blankly, wanting to cry again at the mention of school. I had a feeling, after seeing her and Ms. Shelly talk the night before, that it was nursery school I'd be going to. Not that high school would be much better. "Go to the dining room," she told me one more time, turning me around and patting the back of my diaper to propel me that way. Obediently, I trudged to the table and sat myself down. I didn't have long to wait before my breakfast was brought out, just as big as the day before. I sighed and went to work, not even making it through all the melon before feeling full. "I'm not hungry," I tried, but she only glared at me from over her own food. I managed to force the rest of the food down, but had to stop at the bowl of oatmeal, the smell of it almost enough to make me gag. "I'm really full," I whined. "Holly, you have a choice," she said. "You can eat that on your own, and finish it in the next ten minutes so I can get you ready for school, or I can feed it to you. I don't think you want that, now do you? Especially because if you do that, you're going to be going over my knee again before school for not being a good little girl. Now, what is it going to be, young lady?" I squirmed under her gaze, feeling every inch a naughty, disobedient little girl. I certainly didn't need another spanking, so I forced myself to say, "I'll eat it," and then to pick up the spoon and start doing just that. I ate it until I was stuffed, washing it down with her strangely gritty orange juice, feeling like doing nothing more than going right back to bed when I was done, sure I could barely move after all that. The nanny stood up, holding out her hand for me and ordering, "Come on." Miserably, I pushed my chair away from the table and hopped down, toddling over to her and taking her hand as my diaper drooped between my legs. We got a few steps toward my room before that struck me as odd, and I started to wriggle my bottom. I bit my bottom lip, sure I had to be imagining things, but one quick look down proved otherwise, as I saw a smudge across the wetness indicator on my diaper. I was wet, again. And I had absolutely no memory of having done it. I felt like crying, or throwing up, or just laughing. I'd insisted time and time again I wasn't a little girl, and now that I was being treated like one, apparently my body was following suit, losing control. But that wasn't how things worked. Just wearing diapers couldn't make you incontinent... Could it? Certainly not after one day, and not even a full one at that. And yet, there I was, following the nanny, slowing down as I concentrated on paying attention to what was going on in my pants, nearly gasping as I realized I'd not only wet myself - I was still doing so. I tried my best to stop the trickle that was dripping its way into the already soggy padding, but my body refused to respond. I felt terrified, and so incredibly alone. The only person I could turn to for help was the nanny, and she'd probably just say that this proved that I was a baby after all, and should stay in diapers. I was trying hard not to cry as she positioned me in front of the closet in my room, dressing me in a denim jumper with a pink shirt beneath it and a pink, fringed vest over it, a little gold star on the chest, finishing the outfit off with a pink cowboy hat and a pair of pink boots. And then, as if that wasn't enough to make me feel like a toddler, she got out a pink diaper bag and started to fill it, putting in an extra outfit and plucking diaper after diaper from a bag of them on the floor of my closet. I felt a bit queasy as I watched the bag's side puff out, showing just how much confidence she had in my potty training. And with good reason, I thought bitterly. Certainly, a grown woman wouldn't be standing where I was, wetting herself without warning or control. Not someone in charge of re-opening a long closed mall, bringing a little life back to this community. Someone with a car, an apartment, a life, even if it was a rather sparse one, outside of work and the play, wouldn't be dressed like a cowgirl, watching her diaper bag being gotten ready so she could be taken to nursery school. And surely someone who had all of that, and deserved it, couldn't be reduced to this in less than a day and a half. "You really don't look so good," the nanny said, glancing down at me as she set the diaper bag on my bed. She pressed her hand against my forehead, then, satisfied, lifted the skirt of my dress and patted the crotch of my diaper. I blushed, sure she was going to be shocked at how quickly I'd used it again, that she'd remind me of everything that was already going through my mind, which would only make me feel worse, and more deserving of this humiliating fate. Instead, she mused, "Well, it feel like the catheter's working just fine. And you shouldn't need a change yet - they can take care of that at school. Does your tummy hurt, sweetie?" I couldn't even answer. I just stared at her in shock, wondering if I'd somehow misheard her. A catheter? She'd put a catheter in me?! It was comforting to know it wasn't my fault I was peeing all over the place, but at the same time, I was livid at the intrusion, the violation, of what she'd done. I glared up at her in disbelief and fury, hands curling into fists that I was too cowardly to try to use. "Oh, did you just notice?" she asked, smiling slightly, bemused at my anger, which just made it flare up all the more. "I told you, little one - you're going to stay in those diapers, and you're going to use them. Whether you like it or not." "How dare you?!" I shouted, stomping one cowgirl-booted foot on the floor. "You have no right! You take it out of me right now!" "It's not as easy as that," she said, still calm. "And I think you'd better cool yourself off, young lady. I'm sure Ms. Shelly won't mind you coming in late after I explain to her, and the rest of the class, that you needed a spanking and a time out." Still fuming, but quiet about it, I followed her out to the care sulkily, letting her buckle me in and drive me to the nursery school, a long, silent drive that I spent most of fidgeting, feeling my diaper grow incrementally wetter beneath me. Even without the full diaper bag beside me, and knowing where I was being driven to, that alone would have made me feel quite babyish. There was a part of me that tried to look on the bright side, that at the very least this meant I couldn't be blamed for using my diaper, since I had no choice any more, but somehow that really didn't do much to help my state of mind, seeing as that meant I now really needed my diapers. It also didn't help that my stomach still felt quite bloated and full beneath my jumper, giving me one more reason to feel miserable as the nanny's car bumped along the road to Mt. Pleasant. I did feel much less silly when the nanny insisted on walking me inside than I had when she'd walked me into high school, though, and it was nice not to have to tote my own diaper bag through the halls, as I'd been expecting to have to do. I was the first student there, and the grin on Ms. Shelly's face when she saw me told me this wasn't an accident. "Why don't you color me another picture, Holly?" she said, leading me to one of the tables and giving me another page to work on as she and the nanny spoke at her desk. At first, I only half paid attention to my coloring, glancing up at them, watching as the nanny rifled through my diaper bag, talking with Ms. Shelly, presumably about the contents, straining to hear what they were saying. I eventually gave up, however - I wasn't catching anything useful, and even if I had been, it hardly mattered. That was a conversation for grown-ups, not me. It was about me, but that didn't mean I had any say in it, that it mattered what I thought. All of that was completely out of the equation. I glanced up silently as they finished, and my nanny walked over to me. I expected a goodbye, but instead she reached down, pushing up the skirt of my jumper and checking my diaper, then wordlessly holding out her hand. Meekly, I stood, toddling next to her to the bathroom, which Ms. Shelly unlocked the door to, then followed us in with the diaper bag. It was a fairly small bathroom, with a low toilet and sink, obviously for the benefit of the kids - and not me, I thought with a pout - and a changing table set into one wall. The nanny pulled it down, then started to lift me up onto it before stepping aside. "Why don't you see if you can get her up onto it comfortably?" she suggested. "You can always use the changing pad if not, of course." "Oh, no problem," Ms. Shelly smiled smugly, stepping up and lifting me easily onto the plastic changing table, using the straps to trap me in place. "Good," the nanny said, setting my bag on the counter and getting out some supplies. I watched them, squirming what little I could, cheeks turning redder as I realized neither was leaving, that I was not only going to get my diaper changed, but I was going to have an audience. The nanny pushed up my jumper, then untaped the wet diaper. "Like I said, it's very much the same as changing any other baby," she told her, getting out a baby wipe and cleaning me with it, leaving me shivering at the chilly touch. "You just have to be very quick about getting her new diaper under her, so she doesn't leak." "Like a real baby," Ms. Shelly nodded, "rather than a toddler." She grinned at me, letting me know she'd made the distinction for my benefit more than her own. "Exactly!" the nanny told her, rapidly pulling away the old diaper and slipping the new one beneath me, letting Ms. Shelly dispose of the used one as she deftly applied powders and creams, then taped me into the fresh garment. "And make sure it's good and tight," she instructed, patting the front of my diaper. "Of course," Ms. Shelly smiled, undoing the straps and lifting me down, adjusting my skirt. "You're right, it should be no problem. I'm just not used to babies quite this big." "It's quite all right," the nanny said. "And remember you can call me if you need any help, or if she misbehaves too much. But I don't think that will be a problem, will it?" She gave me a pointed look, and I shook my head. "Good girl." She bent down and kissed the top of my head. "Have a good day at school, sweetie." I nodded numbly, watching her go, a few drops of urine already dripping their way into my diaper. I felt utterly and completely like I belonged in this little classroom, in nursery school, enough that, as I felt tears welling up in my eyes, I wasn't sure if it was me mourning my adult life, so far gone now, or me being scared at being left all alone by my nanny, like any other little kid. "All right, we might as well get this done now, too," Ms. Shelly said, breaking me out of my thoughts as she dug through my diaper bag, pulling out a small pill bottle. She unscrewed the top and poured out four of them, setting them on the counter as she got a paper cup and filled it with water. "Here you go," she handed one of the pills to me. I stared at it, and then her, for a moment, before letting her know, "I can take more than one at a time." I wasn't sure what they were, but I knew there was no point in resisting them, especially since my nanny was probably still in the parking lot, so Ms. Shelly could just call her and get her back in a few minutes to make me do it, perhaps with yet another spanking. "I don't want you to choke," she said. "Now put it in your mouth." I sighed and did as I was told, taking each pill one at a time, a full cup of water to wash down each under Ms. Shelly's watchful eye, ensuring my bladder would have plenty of material to pour into my diaper, whenever it wanted. I had a feeling that was the whole point. "What a good girl you are, Laura," Ms. Shelly praised me as she took the cup, grinning as she saw my surprised expression, still unused to being called my real name, and getting such a pointed reminder that I wasn't supposed to be here. "You're just the perfect little baby, aren't you?" she asked, patting me on the head before ushering me back out to the classroom and my table so I could finish my coloring, too embarrassed to answer her one way or the other.

Don't mind the caps. That was me trying to be comically over-the-top. Please direct your attention to the more coherent explanation underneath it as to why I didn't retain much Spanish. It was simply useless information, like what George Washington's second cousin's dog's name was... So, it got mostly forgotten. All I really need to know in Spanish is "No hablo espan~ol". Though, it is irritating when someone keeps speaking a foreign language at me when I let them know that I don't speak that language. Because, then, they're doing it on purpose to annoy me. And they might be saying something that I should be sticking a double-barrel 12 gauge shotgun under their nose for having said... Also, I have a rather slow internet connection (21k [on a good day, around 16k normally, around 8k some days] land line dial-up) and it IS a chore to have to use one or more of the translator sites/programs to try to figure out what you just said... If you're going to talk to someone on the internet and you both speak the same language, then do so. It's rather pretentious to use foreign languages on people who don't speak them. I know enough about the Muskogee language to lob sentences at you that you wouldn't be able to look up online. But I don't, because I want to make sure that what I say is being understood. Also, another reason why people hate us: All of those damned forced regression/forced diapering stories. I'm one of us and I hate those stories... They're basically tantamount to rape... And there are also all of the stories involving underage characters... How can we expect people to like us when if someone we've got all this "We'll make someone who isn't into this do it anyway!" and "We'll involve kids in it!" crap laying around?! If we seriously want to repair our reputation as a whole, then we need to ban these kinds of stories and only stick with those that involve consenting adults. Those who defend these works as "harmless fiction" have to understand that they most certainly aren't seen as such by outsiders... To them, it's rape and pedophilia... And to all wondering why they'd be looking for such stories: They don't have to be looking for them. I've run many a non-AB/DL search through Yahoo and came across sites featuring such stories, and links to such stories. And it only gets worse when you actually search for "ABDL"... Hell, my folks found all sorts of gross shit like this just by searching for "adult diapers", which is part of why they're so against it...

I consider myself to be neither normal, nor well adjusted, but I am AB and this site has been so wonderful for me. My friends here often make a dark day brighter, and they do remind me that normal is just a setting on the washing machine. To echo Honu, when I was young, I thought i was the only one with this dark perverted secret. DD has helped me be much more comfortable with who I am, and has helped me embrace the fact that I am a little different. How lovely of you to take the time to write your post. You're right - this is a marvelous site. If I may, I would like to stand beside you and say a really big Thank You too. We are so blessed to be able to get together and share our uniqueness, support each other, and, well, just not feel badly about our special gifts !

Lovely, Congratulations on starting to accept this side of yourself, & I am happy that members of our community have helped in some ways. I think everyone of us regardless of the degree to which we indulge have to come to grips with it & accept it as a PART of us, but as you said for most of us it does not totally represent Who we are. I know that I had to accept this about myself & I'm glad that you have too. Rockies Fan.

Little One, Sites like this didn't exist way back when I was your age. There wasn't the internet to allow others to bash ABDLs nor for ABDLs to gather and support each other. The very first thing I ever saw that let me know I was not alone was a letter in Penthouse magazine. With the internet now, we see the full specrum from educated, licensed, professions like us to those that creep others out to those that are so narrow-minded that they don't even realize that what we are doing isn't illegal or immoral. We gather on sites like this because of the negativity our community gets by others. It reassures us that there are others our age, our gender, our orientation, with similar goals in life and the same questions. That there are others here who we don't have much in common with, oh well, for being open-minded means not judging that which is legal and moral. I would like if this, and other sites had higher quality content on it, but in part, its my reasonsibilty to post it! Thank You for doing your part to post quality content! Ke Aloha, Honu

So very true, but it needs to go beyond that. We don't just need normal. We need balanced. E-mailing the purveyors of baby items to make items to satisfy an adult fetish is not balanced. It speaks of a lack of connection to reality.