nonny

I’m in bed with poop in my pants. It’s so comforting and cosy to do it under the covers this way like a toddler. A special way to start the day. The faint smell of it is so much like a baby’s room in the morning.

Stories like this about childhood wetting, messing and diaper play with a sibling or friend just blow my mind. A lot of people here seem to have done it at one time or another. Anything to do with accidents, diapers, toilet training (when my little cousins were that age) or just the everyday human need to go to the bathroom was really awkward in my family. It wasn’t a thing to talk about, let alone imagine doing with anyone. When I got fascinated with going in my pants and wearing makeshift diapers at 13 (puberty) it felt so dirty and strange (as well as thrilling, naughty and fun). It would have been really good for me to have someone to share it with. As it was I was playing with wetting and pooping my diapers and pants like a baby or little boy all by myself. I loved how it felt. But it was such a dirty secret to keep. It was five years before I knew I wasn’t the only kid in the world ever to do such a thing. A play partner who liked it too would have been so fun to watch and try things with. And also made me feel so much less weird. Though maybe it would also have increased the risk of getting caught, which I never did.

Parenthood is not for everyone, and I totally understand the choice not to do it. For me, those early years with my kids (three of them, so quite a few years) are the best and happiest I have ever been. Everything anyone would say about the mess, overwhelm, and exhaustion is completely true. Probably not true enough. Blowouts to the armpits, helpless terror at fevers in the night. And… I have never felt more continuous joy, love, purpose and beauty. If I could choose one time in my life to live over again, it would be that one. Everything matters. You see everything with new eyes. Capacities you never knew you had awaken... It was magic. (Some parts of the older years, not so much. Those early years are by far the simplest.)

A good summary for me would be “embarrassed by how much I love it.“ I got so curious about it as an older kid. What it must feel like. What it was like when I was a baby in a poopy diaper. It was such a mix of gross, funny, cute and fascinating when my baby cousins would visit and poop themselves. They never seemed to mind, even when they’d sat in it or were left to run around and play in a dirty diaper for a long time before being changed. I couldn’t understand how that could possibly be okay with them (even though I was secretly wetting my pants for pleasure)… so being an experimenting type I tried it one day and found out. I couldn’t believe how good it felt, and how comforting, daring and erotic, and I’ve been doing it occasionally ever since. (Including tonight.)

Two nights ago, in my bed. I was a wet little boy in my overnight diaper and I filled my pants too.

So much yes to this. Unlikely though it must sound to most parents, who can’t remember (and are about to have to clean it up yet again in some awkward public place), a nice semi-firm poop slowly spreading and squishing forwards and backwards in your pants this way has got to be one of the nicest feelings of being a toddler. And then getting to sit in it for a while before you’re changed. As a grownup, it’s such a funny, special, secret, regressive way to enjoy the feelings of my own body.

I’ve never been asked that, but it’s super adorable — and something I’ve seen actual babies and toddlers asked by amused/proud/loving parents many times.

I’m a dirty little boy a in poopy diaper right now. I’d been wet for a while before that. I’ve been sitting in my mess for about an hour. I smell so much like a toddler when you pick them up in the morning… I did it while chatting with another little boy.

I’ve been doing “little boy having accidents” and baby in diapers role play since I was 13. A lot of it relates to over-the-top shyness and shame about basic bodily functions in my own early childhood. I was so determined to spare my own kids (three of them, now grown) that shyness and shame. And I’m pretty sure we did. A great thing about parenthood is it takes whatever odd wounds and hangups you have from your own early childhood and surrounds you with opportunities to do better, with the people you love most in the world. Being surrounded by my kids’ dirty diapers and the normal mishaps of toilet training for a bunch of years made it all so normal, in such a good way. It didn’t cure my own fetish but it made it all more balanced. It left me with much more of a sense of humour and self compassion about my baby and little boy self, needing to be changed. My continuing need and desire to hang around here and sometimes play like this feels like self-care for that little boy.

If you have been fully vaccinated, you have safe choices and are not putting other people at such a risk. Your suggestion that the whole country can safely open up Is wilful, woeful ignorance that would result in another large wave of deaths. There’s not one scientific or medical authority that backs what you’re saying. So, why are you saying it? When your ideological signalling is more important to you than scientific reality and costs other people’s lives — isn’t it worth giving your sources and your values another look?

Right. Because you are a pandemic and virology expert exactly how? And your scientific and medical sources are exactly what? No one who isn’t vaccinated has any business going anywhere right now. A minimum of a million people just died in India because their leaders did exactly what you just suggested. I was on the phone with one of their devastated family members two weeks ago, helpless to do anything as someone they loved died. The variant that did this in India is spreading rapidly and may be the most dangerous yet. Stay the fuck HOME until it’s over. And SHUT the fuck up when what you have to say comes from self-appointed, know-nothing, anti-science blowhards who happen to reinforce your uninformed biases.

This is life-threatening, irresponsible, smug ignorance. The scientific consensus is that herd immunity is all but impossible to reach now in the United States because of the number of people who refuse vaccination. People like you. You have helped turn what might have ended permanently into something that will now come back, and back. If you went to multiple large events, especially without masks, you are nothing better than a very lucky fool. Nearly 600,000 of your fellow citizens were not so lucky, and are dead. Something like half of them are dead exactly because of attitudes like yours. The US death rate from COVID is one of the highest in the world because the US is all but unique in its ultra-libertarian, anti-intellectual, anti-evidence tendencies in high-level media and politics. I have read many stories of people who died pointless, miserable deaths after attending events just like the ones you described, recognizing in the end that they had been lied to about it being a hoax or a small risk. That includes several elected Republicans who were sneering, party-line deniers. Real people really die as a result of people just like you making irresponsible choices and spreading ideologically motivated falsehoods just like yours.

I slept in cosy, thickly pinned-on cloth baby diapers and plastic pants under snug PJs last night. I was wet before bed, wet them again in bed, and again in the morning when I first woke up. The way cloth spreads the wet evenly is so warm and nice. The highlight though was this morning, when I became a poopy little boy in my bed as well as a wet one. These diapers are what I wore as a baby (more or less) and I’m still pretty new to having them. It was my first time pinned in wet, poopy cloth diapers since I was two years old. Such a completely pleasing, comforting, sensory experience. I took time to really enjoy and explore this as a little trip back in time.

Are you a bedwetter? No. Were you a bedwetter? Yes. I wet my bed a lot until I was 5, a few times a month until I was 7 and occasionally until I was 9. My mom never had me wear diapers or even training pants for it so on those nights I just woke up in the darkness of early morning with my pyjamas and sheets and half my body soaked in my pee. It was such a helpless feeling, alone in my giant wet spot, my bed smelling like a baby’s room, having done this shameful, childish, uncomfortable thing without any memory of it or any control over it. Do you want to be a bedwetter? I don’t ever want to pee my bed by accident like I did in those years. Those mornings, trying to somehow get comfortable while all wet and waiting to be found out, were some of the loneliest and most embarrassing of my childhood. But the odd thing is that about four years after my wetting accidents stopped, losing control and wetting my pants and bed like a baby became a turn on to me. I probably peed my (secretly protected) bed, awake, twenty times just for the feeling of it. I would dress up in pyjamas sometimes and wet my sleeping bag while imagining being little and asleep. (And then have to secretly wash everything.) I also liked (and still do) to sleep in diapers sometimes and make myself all warm and wet in my bed by peeing like a baby or little child. The last time I did that was three nights ago.

I’ve had some vivid dreams about family encounters like this on days I’ve indulged myself and been a poopy little boy…

We were “attachment parents,” right into the cloth diapers, extended breast-feeding and babywearing in the 80s and 90s. It was a very happy time and I’d do all of it pretty much the same way again. I’m guessing Sarah is right about them being cloth diaper parents rather than ABDL.

Make your first time a time when it’s going to be firm and big. That feels the best and is the least messy. My first experience was really good and might give you ideas. It came from irresistible curiosity about what it felt like when I was little. I had a little cousin in diapers who would pause and get “that look“ on her face and poop herself right in the middle of the living room sometimes when she visited, and then go back to playing not seeming to mind at all. I did the same thing. Literally stood where she did, imagining being 1 again, gently pushed to get myself to the point of no return, and then just felt all the feelings of letting it happen all by itself, in slow motion, like a toddler with no control. It felt even better than I ever imagined, was a great way to start and is still one of the best-feeling ways to do it. Make sure you have generous time and privacy for the experience and the cleanup…

It’s so true. Later on as a babysitter and then parent, it’s just so ridiculously obvious when a kid has to pee and is trying to pretend otherwise or is caught up in play and waiting too long. It must’ve been no secret at all most of the time. I was a similar kind of well-behaved, friendly, curious and low maintenance kid. Nagging me would probably have just made me shyer and more embarrassed, and like you’re suggesting there were lots of kids needing a different level of supervision and attention. I had a bit of a talent too for never believing I was actually going to lose control and have one of those little leaks, or even wet myself. Somehow I was able to feel certain of that over and over again, that this time I could hold that long. It was only a few more minutes… And I was bigger now… and how big I was now I would make it even more embarrassing to ask. This led to me completely peeing my pants in a piano lesson once when I was about 6. I did it gradually in helpless waves of loss of control over most of a half hour, and didn’t say a word because I was so mortified each time my pants got wetter. By the end of the lesson I’d done it all. My teacher was as kind a woman as you can possibly imagine, and when she finally realized she was just baffled at why I didn’t ask her to go. And there really is no other answer than that I was shy (and shyer with every leak) and 6.

What is the matter with you people who are denying the largest public health tragedy in your country, and the world, in a century? Are you incapable of basic human empathy? Half a million people in your country are dead. Every one of them had a name and a family. They include everyone from beloved grandparents, to elected Republican officials, to music legends. Your death toll is now like having a 9/11 scale catastrophe every day, day after day after day, for six straight months. The life expectancy in your country has fallen by 1 to 3 years, depending on what demographic group you are in. There is no precedent for this in our lifetime. It is people exactly like you who are responsible for half of this total. Your country has more than twice the death rate of most other Western democracies because you are — alongside many fine and good things — a country of staggering anti-science ignorance and extremist individualism. Half of your death toll, a quarter of a million unnecessarily dead people, is the direct result.

At eight or nine I think I thought of babies as boring, and leaky in various ways, and a lot of work if I thought about them at all. What they did in their diapers was the worst of it, it seemed too messy and embarrassing and gross to really be true. In my defence I had pretty much never spent time with babies at that age. It was another four or five years before my wetting and diaper interest started. That’s the first time I ever thought it might be nice in some ways to get to be a baby again. Soon after that I started having baby cousins around and learned that though all of the above is partly true, babies are also incredibly fascinating, loveable and adorable.

The first adult diapers I ever bought were a part package for next to nothing in a thrift store. They were, of course, for me to finally get to wear and try, like a big baby. But I was trying to project the calm of being a thoughtful person buying them for my elderly relative. No one blinked. I did the same a couple more times before wanting to try something better. The next steps were buying bedwetter pants that might have been for a child (Goodnites) and a plastic sheet, and finally actual diapers my size at stores far from my house. I found it interestingly embarrassing and exciting trying to radiate complete ordinariness each time I went to the cash register. No one showed any interest. Online ordering solved this problem for good, plus what was available was much better.

Yes, the similarities in our reactions at that age are really strong. I did this too. If I really needed to go and was wiggling around shyly trying to hide it, and then someone asked me — many times I would say no, out of embarrassment that they actually knew why I was wiggling. And then I would be stuck holding even longer, while trying to show the urgency even less. A similar situation was when I had already slipped and wet my pants a little I didn’t want to get up and go to the bathroom, because people might see. The leak would take some pressure off and give me a few minutes of relief, but the urgency would come back. If my pants weren’t dry yet I would try to hold on, and sometimes end up peeing them more. It’s hard to understand looking back, when having an accident in class was so much more embarrassing than leaving to go to the bathroom.

Accidents in school… just the title makes me blush. I’m a lot like you, @Dune1001. I was a bright but shy little guy who never wanted to tell anyone how much I needed the bathroom. I was also easily caught up in play, prone to wait too long, a year younger than all my classmates, and a little late to get full control. From preschool through the first part of Grade 2 I was a little boy who, multiple times a week, had a wet patch just visible between my legs. I had a few bigger pee accidents too — I don’t remember the details, probably because I found it so embarrassing, but I remember coming back from the nurse’s office in dry pants. I have lots of memories of little leaks catching me by surprise as I was playing at gym or recess or wiggling in my chair not wanting to ask the teacher to go. I would peek down to see if it showed: often it did. I don’t know how often other kids noticed. I remember a few times when I’d wet myself more than this, trying to walk with my legs together so no one would know. (Of course I realize now that every teacher and parent who has ever looked after little kids knows what that walk means.) One of the worst days started with being teased in the schoolyard by the class bully when I was about 6 — just because I was the smallest, not because of this. “Look at the baby,” he said to his hangers on and the surrounding kids at play. “I bet he’s wet his pants.” I denied it with furious indignation, but he pushed me against the wall and a couple of them spread my legs apart, and to my great shame I actually had. I don’t think he expected that and he didn’t quite know what to do, or maybe the bell rang. I don’t remember how it ended, but decades later I still feel the embarrassment. (And then there was the time I didn’t go to the bathroom before a three hour standardized test when I was, I um, 16.)

Increased. When I feel the urge I can be in diapers for hours and know that it’s much less likely right now that I’ll be interrupted by anything face-to-face. I can sleep in diapers when I want to and not worry about whether my morning shower has removed every tiny trace of “wet baby in the morning“ or bedwetter scent. I don’t mess very often, but these last few months when I get my occasional desires to poop my pants like a little boy I can do it, enjoy it for longer, and know there’s time to clean up all the indications that I’m a big boy with a little secret. I ordered my first ever case of ABDL diapers for Black Friday, to use with a level of freedom I may never have again between then and when the pandemic ends.