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Same question most AB/DL's ask them self..

I wear every night and some days away from home,i wear cloth diapers with plastic pants,and have urge incontinence.if i'm away from home any length of time I am diapered.

As a little, it's 100% Sofia the First, but as an adult it's Game of Thrones, Orange is the New Black, Parks and Recreation, The West Wing, and Breaking Bad

I duck my thumb

The Archangel Strikes Oh Matt, how could you do this to me? I lay on the beach at Marazion flanked by Juliet and Vickie, just as we had three summers ago, but while their tummies were then distended with their incipient daughters, now those same daughters were playing in the sand and their mothers' tummies were again nice and flat, while my own view of St Michael's Mount was obstructed by Amelia's Mount - my huge distended belly which housed what was to be my twin daughters, and what was worse, at the start of this process I had actually wanted a baby. I mean it was the thing to do. Lots of models had had babies, and enjoyed the fulfilment of motherhood, and then returned to the catwalk a few months later as flat as a billiard table, a slim as a billiard cue, and not a stretch mark in sight. Nobody had ever managed that after having twins. Now, here I was, on "maternity leave" with a prospect of never going back to work because I would just be seen as a pot-belly with a mass of stretch-marks. My cup runneth over! I took stock carefully. Count your blessings, Gran had said. I was married to Matt, and still very much in love with him after two years - quite an achievement in itself in what can be the highly corrosive environment of the celebrity game. I was having the baby we had planned. Matt had the career he wanted; having left his general practice in the wilds of Devon he had joined the Navy and been posted - of all places - to Culdrose in Cornwall, where Juliet's and Vickie's husbands also served. There had been cries of "fix" when that happened, although it was a bit of a disaster for me when I found I had to commute to London to work - a five-hour drive if I was lucky. We had done a deal with Dad for his holiday cottage, which was just large enough for the two of us with a spare bedroom for a baby. Dad had bought a villa in Provence with the money, and that would be available to us for holidays. Simon and Vickie had moved into a married quarter on the station, so we were all together except for Peter who now had a frigate and was stuck in the Falklands for a time. Gradually my problems shrank to a manageable size. I looked down at my huge pot, and also my huge pot of anti-stretch-mark cream, and wondered how big I was going to get in the next month. Perhaps I should get up and do something, take some exercise or suchlike, but the sheer effort involved put me off. I would have to go to the toilet quite soon anyway - those twins inside me were already making their presence known in that respect, as in others. Thank you Matt, I only wanted one baby, not two. If he had told me that twins ran in his family, I might have been more cautious. I looked around. Sally and Catherine, both three years old now and at the stage of "maximum cute", were playing in the sand with bucket and spade, watched carefully by their mothers. Matt and Simon were splashing in the surf with Jack. Holly was with us under the windbreak, she was now twelve years old and fiercely proud of her developing curves and lengthening legs; indeed, she was becoming a bit of a beauty in her own right. I was sitting with their mothers being advised on the interminable subject of childcare, and listening with some reluctance. Despite the joys of motherhood being radiated by Sally and Caroline, I was not looking forward to abandoning my glittering lifestyle for the mundane world of a mother-of-twins, but there was little option now. Just over a month to go. Were my efforts to avoid stretch marks a hopeless cause? Juliet was talking to Holly, telling her the story of St Michael's Mount, and how some fishermen had seen St Michael fighting the Devil on top of it in about the year 500AD. I had heard the story before - Juliet was an absolute mine of useless information about Cornish folklore, and I half-listened to her. She had once dared me to crawl through the hole in the stone of Men-an-Tol, but didn't tell me it was a fertility rite, so part of my present problem was her fault. She stopped talking for a moment and looked at me. I was expected to make some comment. I replied, all I could think of at that moment, that I hoped St Michael, if he could hear me, would come back down to earth a bit and stop me getting stretch marks. That broke Juliet's thread, and she changed the subject to talk about our current interest - babies. At the umpteenth reiteration of some minor point of childcare I decided I had had enough, and threw a grenade into the conversation. I asked Juliet and Vickie how the toilet training was going. That was ever the wrong thing to do. The two little ones were now at the age when the process should have been completed, but it was becoming clear the rogue gene that rampaged through our family was still active, and little effective progress had been made. Juliet sucked her teeth. "We try," she said, "We try. Sally seems to be able to hold it during the day, unless she is totally preoccupied with play" - she looked at her little daughter Sally playing happily in the sand - "but nights are hopeless. Even if we wake her and make her go, she still wets. Several times a night I think. I haven't even dared to try her without a nappy yet." I looked at Sally. There was still a trace of a pink ring around her thigh; she had come to the beach in a nappy, and would almost certainly return in one, even though the house was barely more than half-an-hour's drive even in the heavy traffic of the high tourist season.. I turned to Vickie. She shrugged. "Much the same. I don't want to put too much pressure on Caroline; I would rather her wet and happy than dry - or rather partly dry - and miserable. I suggest, I tempt with rewards, I make promises, but she still wets every single blasted night like she's Old Faithful. It's better just to nappy her and live with it. Fortunately Simon is very understanding - she's the apple of his eye, and can do no wrong as far as he's concerned. It might be different when the next one comes." Vickie's interesting condition had been the big news of the month. My babies stirred inside me, and Holly promptly said she could see the movements. Holly had paid rapt attention to my pregnancy; she had just had her first period, which had suddenly brought everything into focus for her, and she was very proud of her accession to womanhood. Juliet sat up and looked around over the windbreak, - she was always very cautious about my privacy. "Tide's coming in." she observed, "I think its time to pack up and go." The beach at Marazion slopes very gently, which makes it safe for children, but the cost is that the tide comes in quite rapidly. The men were now within earshot, and the first waves were threatening the holes that Sally and Catherine had dug. The girls were recalled, and changed in the shelter and privacy of the windbreak with only the smallest protest. They were dressed alike in hats and sundresses with just the bottom of their nappies visible at the tail, indeed they were more like twins than cousins. Then the men arrived, and began to pick up our belongings. I was excused the work because of my condition, but I made up for it by offering to buy everybody ice creams at the little café in the village - an offer which was cheerfully accepted by the children, and suffered by their parents. We trooped up off the beach, dumped our belongings in the cars, and repaired to the café. I was now bursting for a pee, and the sight of the little girls, safely nappied, made me quite envious; I could really do with one now, and I could almost feel the cool soft pillow of plastic rubbing against my own thighs. How nice it would be to be able to wear a nappy like that, in public, peeking out from under a sundress and without the slightest comment or embarrassment. How nice it would be to be able to just relax and let go without all the paraphernalia of going to the toilets. Suddenly I had an image of being changed in the open by Matt's big strong hands, and I wanted the toilet even more desperately. We made it to the café in the nick of time and I made my excuses and headed for the toilet, when I came out, much relieved, they had ordered for me and we had taken over about half the café. I sat myself down, and my babies stirred inside me once again, as if to make themselves more comfortable. They were certainly much more active than usual, and I wondered if they could sense the excitement of the other children, and felt left out from the treat. Well, it wouldn't be long now, just over a month, and they would be out into this world will all that implied Oh God!...Oh God!.. The cramp hit me like an axe blow, and I gasped and clutched my tummy. Matt was with me in a second, and all conversation suddenly stopped. I felt a warm wetness between my thighs, and gasped, "They're Coming!" All Hell cut loose. Matt and Simon panicked in the best naval manner, commands were given, and feet were running in all directions. If they had had flags, they would have waved them. The little children started to cry, Holly started to flap, and only little Jack remained quietly enjoying his ice cream. It was decided we couldn't wait for an ambulance, so Simon dashed for his car. I was bundled into the back with Matt to take care of me, and we set off for the hospital at Truro. I remembered very little of the journey except for the horrifying speed at which Simon drove. We got there just in the nick of time, and Katherine was born as the clocks struck six, followed by Elizabeth just a few minutes later. Both of them were promptly whisked off to intensive care and put into a single incubator. By seven I was back on the ward and accepting congratulations while quietly making a mental note never again to trifle with an Archangel. The following morning I was down to the perinatal intensive care unit as soon as they would let me, inspecting the two tiny scraps of life in the incubator. The prognosis was good, although their lungs were not fully developed and so they were on pure oxygen. I was allowed, nay encouraged, to handle them and was just about to do my first nappy change. The nurse hovered over me, and asked if I knew how to do it. I sucked my teeth for a moment, and then replied: "Yes, I think so. I have done it before... a few times".

My goodness! I have literally not logged onto this forum for years, so what a joy it is to see a discussion I began over 4 years is still attracting current posts! And interesting posts at that, thank everyone for sharing! I am still a fan of what I call the "toddler crouch", a slightly hunched but mostly standing position that seems to allow a clearer anatomical path especially for larger and firmer poops. I find pooping lying down nearly impossible save when it's pretty un-solid, the same with seated positions. I like crawling positions as well, especially when playing with my toys on the floor in true toddler fashion. And I always sit down in it afterwards; I want to really feel my poop, and as it seems a thing my toddler persona would not think to avoid, it feels authentic. The real toddlers I have known have never shied from this; I have a great memory of watching my friend's 3 year old son on a spring horse bouncing so that the poop in his huggies was pushing out the sides...oh, jealousy! I like making a stinky and being a stinky boy, and, as many have mentioned, I too enjoy sleeping stinky when night-time poops arise (I always poop in the morning, only sometimes in the evening or at night; these "bonus poops" are often smaller and more solid ). Of course I do want a change before too long, but I do like some time to enjoy the experience... and then I dearly love either masturbation or sex whilst in my mess at changing time, a lovely and complete full-sensory experience. Not everyone's flavor I know, but it pleases me!

I'm a total chunk. I like to think it makes me that much cuter in my diapers and little girl clothes.

Rubenesque

Really, nothing.

I haven't been this upset about something in a long, long time.

Welcome to the site,

Weird? Heck, everybody is weird in some way so jump right in with us, don't be shy Liking diapers is the normal weird here and we're not worried if you leak a little bit occasionally- we all do that