FloridaKid

Really thought I was a DL, but my AB side has been tickled by some of the stories posted here. Definitely leaning in that direction now.

My earliest recollection of anything remotely ABDL-related springs from when I was about three or four years old and my little brother was still in diapers. I have a vivid memory of being in the bathroom, finishing my business and pulling up not one, but two pairs of plastic pants over my underwear…by my choice…and getting caught by my mom. This memory persisted for many years, which led me to believe it happened more than once. I asked my mom about it later in life, which filled in some important ABDL gaps for me. It turns out that my father (not “dad”, just can’t say it, big nope) would put me back in a crib in diapers and plastic pants whenever I had an accident until I “earned” the right to wear regular underwear. This approach backfired spectacularly. Initially, it was quite distressing and my mom did the natural mom thing: provide unconditional love and comfort. My three year old brain went where you might expect: diapers=love and comfort from the one adult who really mattered in my life, my mom. As a result, I actually came to desire being diapered and comforted, to the point of putting on plastic pants by choice. By the time I was a teen, it was a full-on fetish. I had no idea what a TBDL was (it was the dark ages…way before the internet), but I definitely checked all the boxes.
 

This overwhelming desire has affected my relationship with my beautiful wife of 44 years. She’s only known about it for the last 20 and needless to say, a lot of trust was trashed in the process. She’s come to terms with the fact that it isn’t going away, although it took me years of therapy and various antidepressants (along with suicidal thoughts) before that came to pass. She accepts that I have a need for stress relief and comforting that cannot be accommodated by traditional methods. She knows my backstory and despises my father, with whom neither of us have had any contact in the past 40 years. All that to set up our current situation: she sleeps in another room, ostensibly due to her CPAP and the fact that it might disturb my sleep, but the real reason is she can’t deal with the fact that I often sleep while wearing diapers. I don’t engage in age play, but simply derive comfort and a relaxing night’s sleep while padded. The heavenly softness and crinkle of a diaper just enhance the experience. How this all relates back to my three year old self is a matter of much self reflection and I’m not sure I’ll ever have a definitive answer. However, at the moment it’s all I have to connect this odd compulsion to anything grounded in reality.