spark

I'm sure the lady was thinking like a lot of narcistic self-indulgent people think. This guys has this awful kink and I told him he can't indulge and has to engage in my preferred method. It sounds like she assumed she would get a sympathetic audience, because it can't be her. If the letter is real, I guarantee you she is selfish in many other ways. She wasn't asking how she can help him. It was "How can he change, because I think him liking diapers is disgusting?" I'm not a professional therapist, but my advice to him is divorce her. It ain't easy, because they have a child, and she is too selfish to accept him as father.

The fact that it does manifest itself repeatedly makes me believe she may have some tendencies. There are some who have the opinion that she is doing it for attention, but I'm not sure if it gives her all that much attention. She definitely got more attention for her drunk and wild behavior than any of this stuff. We pay attention because we notice it, but if you are a muggle- you think it's a bit strange, or don't even notice. I'm certainly not a fan of her pop music, but it's not meant for 50-year-old white men. However I listened to her singing some covers, and particularly the back yard sessions that you can find on Youtube. The lady can sing. Of course, she is also singing songs that this 48-year-old white man actually likes

I have been wearing Better Dry Diapers, which are well named. I better be dry, or they don't always work. The big problem with them is that the sides stretch out, and after about 4 hours they are falling down.

I got the mailing, but mine came in an envelope that looked handwritten. Ironically it was the one it was one of two advertisements I received like that. I don't remember what the other mailing was, and probably wouldn't have remembered this one without the thread. I didn't feel violated. If it came as an open postcard with an obvious medical, I would feel violated. However, it might be a HIPAA Violation. That doesn't matter whether it's from the company that I get my eye drops from, or my diapers. I wouldn't be worried that my family might see because it was addressed to me, and they respect my privacy. They don't open my mail. Now, i don't want to advertise to my neighbors. As far as I can tell, the only person who knows that I have thing for diapers is my housekeeper who cleans my house. She has seen the diapers, seen the pacifiers, and onesies. She has never said anything, and treats me the same as she always had. I should be more embarrassed about the state of the house I leave her than my use of diapers. Even so, I don't want to advertise that I'm using diapers, especially because it isn't a physical health issue.

I go to an infusion clinic for routine blood work, and I always wear there. But I also know I'm not going to drop my pants. Maybe the nurses might have noticed- but they have never said anything. One of them is really good and strongly pushed me to get treated for blood pressure. BTW- I didn't mind the harsh words, because they were deserved and I knew it was important. We have a good enough relationship that she would say something if she felt it was necessary. I also wear when I see my ophthalmologist, but she will never ask me to drop my pants. I also have enough faith in her as a doctor that I would b mostly honest with her. Maybe not the ABDL issues, but definitely anxiety and stress coping. I'm thinking my doctors don't need to know that I have ABDL tendencies, which have sexual connotations. However- stress reduction and using diapers to cope with anxiety may be something of interest to a good doctor.

I really like this story. I wish I could get into some critiques, because it is interesting, but might fall victim to a lot of traps that most ABDL stories fall into. If I'm commenting, I'm liking. If I don't like it- I stop reading it.

I don't know if she really is a little (but I have my suspicions), however, if she is- she is asset to our community. WHen you listen to her sign she is underrated as an artist.

46%. It's a hard to one to fake. I'm sure you could take it and recognize which answers will flag high content. It's really more about being an adult.

OMG, did we seriously get into a big debate over exhibitionism of diapers in public because a poster found comfort in wearing a diaper to a doctor's office when he was facing a potential misfunction There was nothing in the OP that indicated any thrill from that situation, unless you think potentially crapping your pants and puking in public is thrilling. I’ve done both, and have never found any thrill from either. The original post was merely about finding some bit of comfort in a terrible situation, and there is no reason to pass judgment against anybody for that. Obviously, there is a line. And I’ve seen posts from people who are clearly crossed the line. They are finding some sort of thrill when they fill a diaper and make people notice that they used a diaper, and if that was the case- I’m all for criticizing. I’ve worn diapers or pull-ups to the doctor office a few times. I go in for blood work that requires them to take a pint of blood from me, and it takes about 20 minutes. I have to hydrate, and slightly nervous, which makes me need to pee. So I wear a Pull Up style to the oncology clinic, and nobody has said anything. I also wear Pull-Ups when I go for my MRI every six months. It’s a forty-five-minute scan, and I’m afraid that I may get the urge to pee in the middle of the scan. The pull up is merely a security blanket, because if I wear the Pull Up- I don’t get the urge, and I don’t use it. The same thing happens on short flights, or drives I have no physical need for a diaper. I can hold it long enough that I can make it the whole SFO-LAX flight needing to pee without having an accident. Is it offensive that I choose to wear on those flights, or when I go for the MRI or phlebotomy? On the plane, I’m merely sitting quietly in my window seat watching my tablet. Even if I found some secret thrill out of it (I don’t), but I didn’t actively try to expose myself- who in hell gets to pass any judgment.

have battle depression. I've not thought about suicide, but I've prayed that it would be my day. I was never clinically diagnosed, but praying for death is probably good enough for a self-diagnosis. I had some learning disability growing up, which has affected my self-confidence, which has played a role n my battles with depression. I know that diapers and acceptance of them have helped me keep things under control Now I have a variety of health issues. None of them are very serious, but require frequent visits to medical professionals. I've had more blood draws in the last 2 years than most people have had in their life. You can tell it gets bad when they only let the best phlebotomist find the vein. Arthritic knees that basically hurt every day and bad eyes. Those health issues can cause stress, which isn't a great pair with depression.

It doesn't matter where you live. You still made a verbally aggressive response which included calling the OP arrogant and rude. What makes this discussion so interesting, and I hope for others as well, is that it is one of the few threads on this board that is more geared for those of us who have a deeper understanding of our personal diaper use. Most the discussion threads are on topics that tend to be much more basic (wetting while lying down for example, or wearing outside for the first time). There is no problem with those threads, but it's nice to have one that is geared towards something that reaches a deeper level. To keep in context of what the original post was. Mark has decided to go full time in diapers, which includes printed Princess Diapers that would likely cause odd looks from his colleagues. In the process of making that decision, he found a comfort level for himself. It's freed him up on anxiety and noticed a benefit that is more than just convenience. That's a very interesting discussion, especially because others have had similar experiences. However, I don't need to lecture him on the cons because it appears that he is fully aware of those cons. I've worn diapers for 20 years and have worn them in public more times than I can remember. Do you honestly think I need to be lectured on the cons of wearing diapers? There are very few of them that I haven't personally experience, or learned to manage in the last 20 years of diaper wearing? I don't need to be told that diapers are expensive because I've been paying them for 20 years. Some of those times I've been nearly broke. I know that diapers can leak, and know that diapers can smell. I know that wearing a diaper on a hot day can create issues. There is nothing wrong with sharing personal challenges of wearing diapers full time in the context of the discussion. But not imposing your personal challenges on others. I mitigate a lot of the challenges that you mentioned, so they aren't big issues for me. When I'm going to out for a few hours, I tend to leave with a fresh diaper that I know can last. I try not to completely flood my diaper, and I don't poop in my diaper. I budget for my diapers, the same way I budget for my medicine or car maintenance. It's important, so I make sure I have the money for it.

I'm not sure why you chose to make a verbally aggressive to something that you likely misinterpreted. The cons of wearing a diaper full time are understood. You mentioned cost, which used to be a factor at times because I couldn't also afford to buy new supplies. Now I can replace my supplies with the same frequency that I replace my prescriptions, which I feel diapers qualify as medicine for me. The whole point of the original post was to discuss the very real benefits that some of us get from accepting diapers as just an everyday thing. One of the key benefits in my opinion, and I think others, is that it frees us up. Diapers just are what they are, and they fact that I wear them to feel less anxious around people and function as regular human being is freeing. As for some of your reasons, I think you might be making more of them than you really need. I rarely have to change my diaper in a public place. A good diaper can hold more than enough that I can usually stay in the same diaper for a long time. I've skied in a diaper and worn the same diaper for more than 12 waking hours. I don't pee constantly in, and sometimes use the toilet to make sure it doesn't get too soaked. If I did need to change, I would cross that bridge when it came. I don't need to worry about carry my supplies to public places that might not allow bags because I would prepare for that. Worst case scenario, I put on a Pull-Up and use the bathroom (no law against using the toilet). I don't have to worry about smells because I don't poop in my diapers, and certainly could plan for that if I needed to. I've never once been confronted by strangers, or friends, about my diapers, and I've worn in front of them. I've never told them, and AFAIK, none of them know. If they do, they don't say anything. If it is too hot to wear diapers in the summer, then don't wear them. You're fortunate, you don't have a physical need to wear diapers. There are those out there who don't have the option and need to wear them to avoid messing or wetting themselves. I won't wet myself but want to wear a diaper. BTW, I'm fully aware of your hyperbole. 120 is not considered a cool day in Riverside. If you had said 95, I would give you a pass. It's hot, but I don't mean to be rude, but I know it takes work. I also know there is a chance for some embarrassment, but I've been embarrassed before and will be embarrassed again. I'm aware of the cost, but I've found benefit in wearing diapers 80% of the time. I'm not 100% and don't really care. Why are you choosing to wear them if you find so little benefit in wearing them, or it causing you so much stress. They are other methods to deal with anxiety. I have a good friend who uses marijuana and needs it. IMO, he needs his marijuana more than I need my diapers. His method works, but it has just as many drawbacks. You have to remember that Rusty Pins doesn't share the same experience because he chooses to avoid wearing in public situations, and he was trying to give advice to somebody who has chosen to wear full time. It's like a Cessna Pilot trying to talk about landing a jet to a commercial pilot. And there was a risk that the discussion would go down a route the OP didn't intend. We've had the discussion about the pros and cons of diaper wearing, and I suspect we will continue. That wasn't the intention of this discussion.

Doesn't sound like news. Sounds like a fake account.

This discussion is a little different than most of those threads. A lot of those threads are focused on the incontinence aspect, or the desire to be fully incontinent. This thread is more focused on the emotional security gained from accepting a diaper as a full-time thing. It's not a special thing, it's not a thrill, it's just a diaper that I wear. In my case, it's not all the time, but more often than not. In my case, I'm not at all incontinent in the physical sense, and I don't have a desire to be incontinent either. I use the bathroom for solid waste, but I pee in diapers most of the time. I think somebody like you would likely see red flags of my little status (not sure if red flags is the right connotation) if you visited my home, or if you met me in person, However I've never once been called on it. As for my diapers potentially being noticed by a friend. I'm nearly 50 years old and have a variety of minor health issues. There is nothing unusual with a 50-year-old male with a history of incontinence, and I'm sure most of my friends would see it that way.

I think I've shared this before, but I got a first-hand experience this weekend when I went skiing with some buddies. First of all, a diaper is an absolute must for while skiing in my opinion. The ski suit I wear is a full body jumpsuit, and it is a big pain to use the bathroom. I didn't use the diaper for #2, because a big load in my diaper might be noticed, and is uncomfortable. However, the diaper worked great for the other things. I have to zip down the suit, and pull down the layers I have underneath. My guy gets a little bashful in the cold, so he doesn't always reach that far (I have small feet if you catch my drift), so the diaper is just easier. There is no way anyone could notice my diaper based on my outfit. As it was, my buddies needed to make more than a few pit stops, but no such need for me. They might have asked how I managed to go all day without peeing, but I did make trips at lunch to avoid flooding my diaper. It held the whole day, and I was very comfortable.

Golfnow is an ap that allows people to find tee times at various golf courses around the country. Their newest ad caught my attention, because it features an older guy saying that he hoped to play golf once his kids got older and then showed a millennial sitting in a high chair. "This little guy never wanted to grow up."

I read a similar story from Rosalie when she talked about her husband and the decision to go full-time in diapers. There is something to the anxiety and angst that occurs when you don't have the outlet. I don't have a partner to deal with, so my situation is significantly less complex. I also work out of my home, so wearing a diaper full time is quite a bit easier than it would be otherwise. I'm not wearing diapers full time, but my diaper use has increased significantly over the last few months. I pretty much where diapers all-day and only use the toilet for #2's. I just don't like the cleanup, and self-changing with #2's is not pleasant. I have no experience changing a messy diaper that isn't mine, so can't comment. I've found that my stress and anxiety have decreased, and I'm generally happier and more accepting. I no longer wish to completely lose bladder control, but I'm just more comfortable with a diaper. I also agree with the diaper use on an airplane. I love the window seat on an airplane. I sit down and go into my own world. I don't interfere with anybody, and they don't bother me.

I ordered the RearZ Inspire, and never had leaks at night. It was the best night time diaper I've ever used, at least for my body type.

I was reluctant to try the single tab diapers in the past, but I tried some from RearZ and I like the diaper. I'm near the end of a case and the fit has been mostly good. I do get some sagging near the end of the use because the plastic gets stretched out, or if I don't get the diaper high enough on my waist, but that happens with all diapers. There are two drawbacks. The tapes are very strong, but if you aren't careful they can fold with parts of the sticky side together. It's probably easier to control if you aren't self-changing, but it's difficult to control if you self-change. 70% of the time I'm fine, but that's still 3 out 10 that I have to mess with. The other drawback is that there is stress point right at the connection between the back of the diaper and tab, and I've had failures at that point in more than a few of the diapers. It's not like the fail at the beginning and the diaper is useless, but near the end of the use- they tend to fail.

Sking while diapered has worked out for me. The padding, plus the difficulty using the bathroom while skiing is a natural. I've ridden my bike while diapered, and while the padding is nice- using a diaper while riding is tough. I face the same issues of using diapers while driving. I've played golf in diapers, but that has not been as successful because I walk, and the diapers cause chafing.

I want to test if this works to get rid of the underline

This is a complete story about a young man forced into diapers by his step-mother after he messes up. A Second Chance Before I start this, I should note that my step-mother is not the evil woman I thought she was, and my younger step-sister is not the obnoxious little brat I remember when I was younger. In fact, despite giving them many years of grief and disrespect, they have treated me as family and loved me more than I deserve. My mom and dad were never married but did live together when I was little. I don’t remember very much about that time. After he left, I lived with my mom. I would get to see my dad on weekends, and the occasional week when my mom didn’t want me around. My parents passed me along like unwanted baggage, and I would end up staying with whatever parent had to take me in. My dad started dating Ashley when I was nine years old, and while Ashley was always very nice- she wasn’t my mother. I hated her and I hated her little daughter. Emily was four years younger than me, and just a little Kindergartener. I thought she was just a little kid who was stealing my dad. Part of the problem was that my dad treated Emily has a daughter. Emily’s father had been killed when she as very young, and my dad was the man she knew as a father. I was jealous because she got my dad all the time, while I could only see him on weekends. I was also jealous because their house was nicer than my mom’s home. It was bigger, and Emily had more toys than I had growing up. It wasn’t fair. And it was a nicer She lived full-time with my dad, and I was jealous that this relative stranger got to have my dad all to herself, while I lived in a smaller house and only got to see him on weekends. It wasn’t just their house that was nicer. For example, I used to wet my bed when I was younger.I guess my dad wet the bed when he was young as well, so it was something that I inherited from him. My mom hated it, and would yell, punish, and even humiliate me because of it. She never put me in diapers, but she threatened to get some diapers for me many times. Ashley was never mean about it. She made sure my mattress was protected and would help me get clean in the morning.I would feel bad and apologize because I was used to my mom getting mad about it. But Ashley would just say, “That’s ok. I know you aren’t doing it on purpose.” Emily was fully potty trained before I even knew her, which was another reason that I hated her. It was embarrassing to have a little sister completely potty trained, while I still wet my bed. Despite that, Emily never teased me about it, and Ashley never yelled at me. Unfortunately, my dad had to travel a lot, and I didn’t get see him as much. If my dad was out of town, I didn’t come over for the weekend. I started to rebel against everything as a teenager. I didn’t like my dad not spending time with me, and took it out on the whole family, especially Ashley. I was rude, and wouldn’t listen to her. I don’t think I said three words to her for the four years I was in high school. I graduated from high school, but only barely. I couldn’t get a full-time job and didn’t want to go back to school. I spent most of my days playing video games and doing drugs. I didn’t have very many friends, and the few that I had grew up and moved on.At nineteen my mom got tired of my bullshit and kicked me out, and with no place else to go I moved in with my dad and Ashley. There was a still a lot of conflicts. My dad wanted me to go back to school, or find some kind of job, but I wasted every single opportunity I had. My dad got me a job in Alaska, but I was fired for smoking pot in the dorm. Emily and Ashley tried to help me, but I rebutted every chance I got. I was happy smoking pot, playing video games, and living in the basement. Oh yeah, and I was still wetting that bed, but wouldn’t wash my own laundry. Shortly after my 22nd birthday I was arrested for drunk driving, which caused me to lose my driver’s license, and made me it ever more difficult to get a job. I was arrested again a month later for public intoxication. Despite not being charged, this was the last straw. My dad wanted to kick me out, but I listened as Ashley argued in my favor. “You can’t kick him out. He has no place else to go.” “And whose fault is that?” My dad replied. “He’s family.” “But he’s been so rude.” “He is still your son, which makes him my son too. And I refuse to kick out family when they are in need.” I went downstairs feeling bad for all the things I had said to Ashley, especially since I knew she was the only reason I wasn’t homeless. That night my dad came into my room and said, “Well you can stay, but I want to you thank Ashley for that.” I nodded. “And I want to you start treating her with respect, and acting like you’re part of this family. If I find out that you’ve disobeyed Ashley, you will be out on the street. Do you understand?” “Yes, sir.” “Now go up and thank Ashley for saving your ass.” I went upstairs and politely thanked Ashley, and apologized. Ashley gave me a stern look and said, “There are going to be some changes, but I’ll wait until the morning to go over them.” My dad added, “And don’t you even think about complaining about it. No matter what Ashley says, your only response is ‘Yes Ma’am.’ Do you understand?” I nodded and went downstairs. I wondered what the new rules would be, but I just went back to playing my video until the middle of the night. The next morning Ashley came downstairs with Emily and woke me up. She said, “It’s time to get up because we have a lot of work to do. First, let’s go over the new rules. You will only have 3 hours of internet time. I have a time, and it will stop after 3 hours. I expect you to eat breakfast with the family in the morning, which means getting up by 8:30, and we will eat dinner. If you can’t make dinner, you are to call me. I nodded. “And there is only one more rule. We are going to clean this room today, and I want to you to keep it that way. That means you are going to have to sleep in these,” and she put a package of Pull Up Style diapers on the bed. “Those are diapers! I don’t want to wear those.” I protested. “Yes, and you wet the bed. That’s not your fault, but you’re old enough to take care of it, and we don’t want this God Awful smell in our house.” I had no choice and figured she couldn’t make me anyway. What was she going to do? Come down to my bedroom at night to make sure I was in Pullups. We cleaned my room. In truth, it was mostly Ashley and Emily, but I helped. That night Ashley came down and said, “I just want to make sure you got dressed for bed. Do you have your Pullups on?” “No, but I’m not going to bed yet.” Ashley didn’t budge. “I didn’t ask that. Put on those Pullups, and I’ll let you play your game. “ I looked at Ashley and asked, “Are you going to watch me?” “Do you think it’s anything I haven’t seen? I can always go buy some diapers for you.” I stripped and put a clean pair of Pullups. “That’s good, and those better still be on in the morning.” Ashley woke me up in the morning and right away noticed my wet Pullups. “I see you were good and used the Pullup.” “But they were wet.” “Well, that’s why you’re wearing them. Get changed and come upstairs for breakfast.” I was mostly good during that day. I ended up using my 3 hours of internet, but my phone had a hot spot, and I used the hot spot for most of the day. They had to call down twice to dinner, but I ate dinner without complaining and was fairly nice to Ashley and Emily. The only issue was bedtime. Ashley didn’t come down, so I went to bed without my Pullups. The next morning Ashley woke me and immediately saw that I had wet the bed. She was furious. “You can’t be serious!” She screamed. “I’m tired of this. Get out of bed right now!” I’ve never heard Ashley cuss, but she came close that time. “Get your butt out of that bed right now!” I was shocked but got out of bed. “Ok, now come with me.” “But I’ve got to change my clothes,” I whined. “No, you don’t. You’re going to stay in those wet panties until I get back.” I’ve never seen Ashley spank, or use any physical force, but when I wasn’t matching her pace she grabbed my ear and pulled me along into the kitchen. Emily was eating her breakfast and asked, “What happened?” Ashley said, “He didn’t wear his Pullups, and wet the bed.” I couldn’t see Emily’s face, but I imagined she was sneering at me. Ashley walked me to the corner and said, “Stand here and don’t move.” She grabbed my sweatpants and began to pull them down. I instinctively grabbed to hold them up, but Ashley swatted my hands away. She pulled down my wet underwear and gave me a hard spank with her open hand. “Stay still!” “Ow BITCH! WHAT THE FUCK!” I screamed back. Ashley regained her composure, and calmly looked at Emily and said, “It’s in the left drawer.” I turned around to see what she was getting, but Ashley gave me another swat. This time not as hard as the first one, but got my attention. “Look at the wall.” I heard Emily, “Here you go, mom.” “Thanks, honey.” I saw Ashley holding a pacifier, and tried to stick it in my mouth. I clenched my teeth, but Ashley spanked me once again and when I opened my mouth she plopped the pacifier in it. “We don’t use those words in this house. Keep this in your mouth until I take it.” Ashley looked at Emily and said, “I’ve got to go out and get some supplies. If he tries to move from that corner swat his little behind.” “Sure thing.” Ashley gave me one more swat and said, “You! Stay in this corner and mind your sister.” I was humiliated but wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I didn’t know if I was about to be kicked out, but Ashley didn’t say anything to me or threatened. I knew my dad would kick me out if he heard me scream at Ashley, so I was at her mercy. I was standing in the corner with my pants around my ankles like a naughty child. I tried to test Emily and started to turn my head. WHAP! Emily gave me a strong spank and firmly pointed at the corner. “Look in the corner.” I began to feel pressure in my bowel and knew my morning ritual was coming due. I reached to remove the pacifier, but another spank stopped me. “Keep that in your mouth.” I spoke through the pacifier. “I need to go to the bathroom.” “Don’t talk.” She warned. “But, it’s poop.” I cried. Emily stayed silent and I couldn’t see what she was doing. I squirmed around and waited. “Mom said you can go in your pants.” Ashley wanted me to shit my pants! I was stunned. “She wants me to shit my pants,” I mumbled. Once again a firm swat came down on my legs, and Emily said, “NO TALKING!” I stayed in the corner for what seemed like an eternity. I heard a knock on the door and Emily shouted, “Hi Heather, I’m in the kitchen! Come on in!” What, Emily’s friend Heather was going to see me in the corner. I tried to move, but Emily warned, “Stay in the corner!” Heather walked in to see me with my wet sweatpants around my ankles, a pacifier in my mouth, and my nose firmly planted in the corner of the room. “What’s up with your brother?” “He wet the bed.” “Doesn’t he always do that?” Heather asked. “Yeah, but my mom gave him some Pullups to wear. She trusted him to be a big boy and put them on for himself, but he couldn’t handle that. So if he is going to act like a baby, we will treat him like one.” “Hey!” I shouted, and my pacifier dropped from my mouth. WHAP! A hard spank. “Did I say you could speak? Now keep your pacifier in your mouth, and stay in the corner” Heather laughed and said, “It’s about time. He’s been a brat since I’ve known you.” “Seriously,” Emily replied. I’m not sure how much longer I was in the corner, but it was enough that I had to pee. I started to do the potty dance, which only made Emily bark “Stop moving.” “But I need to pee.” I cried. “Do you need to potty?” Emily asked in a patronizing tone. I nodded. “That’s why you’re wearing a diaper.” By this point, I was thoroughly defeated and just wanted the humiliation to end. I concentrated and a small stream of urine rolled down my leg. Heather looked and said, “He’s peeing on the floor.” Emily goes, “Oh, that’s good.” I expected her to mock me, but instead, Emily just came by with a towel and began to clean the puddle. “There, doesn’t that feel better.” I had to admit it felt nice to ease that pressure. I heard Heather ask, “Why aren’t you yelling at him for peeing his pants?” “Well, I told him to. And besides, it’s not healthy to hold your pee.” Eventually, I heard Ashley return, and Emily cried “Hi mom, do you need any help?” “No, just keep watching Mark. Has he been good?” “Ok. At first not so good, but he’s been good since Heather got here.” “Oh, Heather is here. Heather, can you help me while Emily watches her brother?” I stayed in the corner and finally, Ashley came in. She was calm, but firm and said. “I spoke to your father about what happened this morning, and he’s agreed with me. Here he wants to talk with you.” Ashley handed me the phone. “Hi, dad.” “Mark, I’m frustrated, and the only reason you still have a roof is that of your step-mother won't let me. Now, she is going to give you some new rules, and the only words that you can say back are ‘Yes, Ma’am,’ I will see you when I get home.” I didn’t even get the chance to say ‘Good Bye.’ “Did your dad speak to you?” Ashley asked. “Yes Ma’am” I politely replied. “Good, now remember that when I show you your new room.” “Yes Ma’am.” She took me into a small den that now looked like a nursery. My old bed had bars which made it look like a crib, there was changing table on the other side. I was stunned, and in a defeated voice I said, “It’s a crib.” Ashley stayed calm. “That’s right. Since I can’t trust you to act like a young man, I have no choice but to treat you like a baby. For now, you will be sleeping in this room. Your bedtime will be 8:30, and you will have a nap in the afternoon. You can forget about using the potty because from now on you are in diapers. And don’t even think about using the potty like a big boy. You use your diapers, and Emily or I will change them. Do you understand?” I wanted to scream but knew I had little choice. I had no place else to go, and anything but a polite “Yes, Ma’am,” would likely get me kicked out. Ashley scowled, “And stop calling me Ma’am. I’m not some kind of stranger. Call me mommy, or mom!” “But you’re not my mom,” I whined. “I’ve been your mom for ten years. You biological mom kicked you out and did nothing to teach you how to be a man. Which is why I’m going to have to do it. I’ve earned the right to be called mommy.” She was right. Ashley had been a mom to me for ten years. Much more than my actual mom, and even though I complained about it, I knew she cared. That’s more than I could say for my real mom. I genuinely felt guilty for all the heartache I had caused, and regretfully cried “I’m sorry, mommy.” I don’t know how it came out. I had never called Ashley mom in all my life, much less use ‘mommy’. Emily would occasionally use ‘mommy’ with her mother, and almost always called my dad, ‘daddy’, but I was a 22-year-old male who had just called his step-mother ‘mommy’.It didn’t feel so strange at the time, especially because I was still standing in my wet pajamas and about to be put in a diaper. I think Ashley was touched by the ‘mommy’ comment. It was a term of endearment and respect that she had been waiting for all those years. She put the pacifier in my mouth and gently hugged me. She chose her words carefully and said, “I know honey. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get some breakfast.” Ashley helped me on to the changing table and pulled off my wet pants. The urine had dried on my legs, and Ashley used wipes to get them clean as well as cleaning my bottom. The powder sent me on a wave of nostalgia. I was ten years the last time somebody put a diaper on me, and that was when my mom got mad at my bedwetting. It was a heartless act that was done to humiliate me, and she shamed me while doing it. This time was very different. Even though it was humiliating, Ashley didn’t make it feel that way. She didn’t shame me for wearing a diaper. Instead, she made it seem like this was just something I needed, just like I was much younger and not ready to use the potty. She unfurled a regular diaper from the drug store and pulled the tabs over the edge. “I’ve bought some better diapers for you, but they won’t get here for a week. For now, you’re just going to have to use these diapers.” Ashley finished with my diapers and helped me in some sweatpants and a simple pastel blue t-shirt. She finished and said, “Now Emily tells me that you asked to poo, so I expect a poopy diaper very soon.” There was nothing specifically that said ‘BABY’ in my outfit, but we both knew what was beneath my sweatpants. Emily and Heather knew as well, and Heather mockingly said: “Oh, what a cutie.” Emily chimed in, “He is, isn’t he?” I was lead to the table and my new mommy lifted me into one of our barstools. I got in the barstool, and Emily brought over a tray that connected to the arms. It had just been converted into a large high chair. Emily said, “Now stay still, and we will get you some breakfast. Do you want some cereal?” I was hungry and gave a slight nod. They brought me a bowl of cereal and baby bottle. “Can you eat this by yourself, or do you need me to feed you?” Emily seemed to be enjoying her new role. I didn’t respond and just ate my cereal. As I ate I began to regain my pride and realized I was reduced to nothing but a baby. I wonder how long this would last, and looked at Ashley. “Ashley, how long will I be like this?” Ashley didn’t answer, but said, “What do you call me?” “Mommy,” I said with my head dropped in shame. “Mommy, how long will I be like this?” She responded, “I don’t know. Until I think you’re ready to be a big boy.” “But why do I need the high chair and baby bottle?” “Because that’s what little boy’s need. Now, remember, we need you to go poopy in that diaper pretty soon.” I finished my cereal and started to drink from the bottle. I was thirsty, and my pride was already defeated. Ashley saw me finish my bottle and asked Emily, “Emily, can you clean Mark’s tray up before he makes any more of a mess?” Emily walked over and said, “You finished all of your cereal. That’s a good boy.” She used a towel to wipe my face, and then put the pacifier in my mouth. “Stay here and then we will play after we clean up.” I stayed in the high chair and began to feel more pressure in my bowels. I knew I wasn’t going to use the toilet for this poop, and some part of me wanted to give them a very messy diaper. My face contorted and I began to groan. Heather was a little put off by it and said: “I think he’s pooping.” Ashley glanced over at Heather and seemed to give her a disapproving look. I guess she didn’t want any negativity associated with pooping in a diaper. Heather quickly said, “I’m sorry,” and Ashley nodded to accept the apology. I completed my duty and had a fairly full diaper. I said, “There I pooped. Can I get out this thing to change my diaper?” Ashley glared back, “PUT THAT PACIFIER BACK IN YOUR MOUTH! YOU DON’T GET TO DECIDE WHEN YOUR DIAPER IS CHANGED.” She sighed and finished, “We will change you when we are ready.” I hurriedly put the pacifier back in my mouth and sat quietly in the high chair. A little more filled my diaper, and the smell began to permeate the room. Heather and Emily eventually left the living room, which was a bit further from the aroma. Eventually, Ashley came in and said, “Let’s check that diaper.” She lifted the back of my diaper and said, “My, that’s a good poop. I bet you feel so much better, don’t you?” I nodded. “Let’s get you into a nice clean diaper.” She called out her daughter, “Emily, why don’t you come dear? Then I can show you how to change a poopy diaper.” “I already know how to change poopy diapers, I’ve babysat babies before.” “Yeah, but those were smaller kids. It’s a little different with a big one like this.” The three of us went to the nursery and Ashley began to share how to change my diapers. “Now wet diapers are pretty much the same as little kids. But there is more poop with older ones like him than the little guys you’re used to. If you need to, take him to the shower and use the hose to clean his bottom.” If Ashley was put off by the messy diaper, she didn’t show it. She even stressed the same thing to Emily. “Now, even if it’s really smelly, it’s important that Mark poops in his diaper. Make sure to praise him for going poopy. We don’t want him holding back his poops. I think that might be the problem with his bedwetting, especially with these firm poops. You also need to really clean his bottom. I don’t think he was doing that very well. Just keep him calm, and take your time.” They spoke as though I didn’t know what they were saying. I just laid back on the changing table and let Ashley change my diaper. She finished, helped me into my sweatpants and then praised me. “You were such a good boy. Thank you for being so good.” I went back to the living room and Emily asked, “Do you want to play a game?” I nodded, and the two girls and I played UNO for a while. I got carried away with the game and almost forgot my infantile status. Eventually, Ashley came in and said, “It’s time for your nap?” “A few more minutes,” I cried. “No, I want you to get used to the new routine. You need a nap.” Emily and Heather were already putting away the cards. Emily calmly said, “Its ok. We will still be here when you get up.” Heather used a babyish voice and said, “Bye Bye. It was fun playing with you. If you’re good, we can do it again.” Ashley led me to the nursery and checked my diaper. “It’s not very wet. Don’t hold back your pee.” She dropped the side of my crib and gently pushed me in. She pulled the covers over my body and said, “Get some sleep.” “I’m not tired.” “I think you are. You’ve had a big day.” She kissed me on the forehead, lifted the bars and said, “Sleep tight but don’t leave this crib until we wake you up. I’ve got a baby monitor, so I will know.” She turned out the lights and shut the door. I was lying in the crib and wondering what my new life would be like. How long would I live like this? Would I ever get my adult life back? I decided to test my freedom and began to climb out of the crib. A voice came from the monitor, “LIE BACK DOWN!” I laid down, and a calmer voice came over “That’s a good boy.” I wasn’t that tired, and it was hard to fall asleep. But I didn’t have any perspective on what time it was. There wasn’t any clock, and the nursery didn’t have any outside windows. The room was largely dark, except for a dim night light in the corner. I just laid there thinking. I must have eventually fallen asleep because eventually, Emily came in to wake me up. In a calm voice, she said, “Get up. Mommy doesn’t want you sleeping for long because then you won’t go to bed.” She began to check my diaper, and I instinctively swatted at her hands. It was one thing for Ashley to check a diaper, but Emily was my little sister. Emily pushed my arms away and said, “Stop it. I need to check your diaper.” “I don’t want you to change my diaper?” I whined. “Well, you don’t have a choice, do you? You might as well get used to it since mom and dad are paying me to be your new nanny.” “What? When did that happen?” “Mommy told me while you were napping. She told me to treat you just like I would any other three-year-old.” She felt my diaper, which was thoroughly used. I didn’t remember peeing, but my diaper was very wet. “That’s such a good boy. You went pee pee in your diaper, and are being very healthy. Let’s get you into a nice dry diaper.” This time it was Emily who changed my diaper, but she handled the change with the same level of care that her mother did. I must admit, even though it was degrading, I kind of enjoyed having my diaper changed. Instead of being shamed and punished when I used my diaper, I was praised for it. It was far nicer than the shame I felt when I wet the bed. I came into the living room and saw a playpen set up in the corner. Ashley looked at me and said, “Do you see the playpen?” I nodded. “That’s just in case. You’ve been such a good boy this today, so I’m going to let you play in the room. But if you don’t obey the adults, I’m going to have to put you in the playpen. Do you understand?” “Yes, Ma’am.” Ashley raised her eyebrows, and I immediately went “Yes, mommy.” “That’s better. Did Emily tell you her new job?” I nodded and replied, “Yes mommy.” “That’s right, she is going to be your nanny. I can’t look after you like a little baby, and Emily needs the money for college. So your daddy and I are going to pay Emily to be your nanny. What do you think of that?” I wanted to say the truth, but I didn’t have much of choice. I just nodded. Ashley looked at Emily and said, “I don’t think you should call by her name either. You’re now just a little boy, and need to respect your elders?” “She’s younger than me.” I cried. “She is, but she doesn’t need diapers does she? She can drive a car and has had a full-time job. She has grown up, while you still act like a little boy. That’s why we have to treat like a little boy, don’t we?” She asked Emily, “Emily, what do you want to be called?” “When I used to babysit the little kids called me ‘Nanny’.” “That’s a good. From now on, she is ‘Nanny’?” I resigned to my fate. “Ok.” “Ok, what?” “Ok, mommy.” “That’s better. I bet you’re thirsty.” Emily filled a bottle with water and handed it to me. She raised her eyebrows and said, “What do you say?” “Thank you, Emily.” Without missing a beat, Emily said, “What are you supposed to call me?” “Nanny.” “Now say it again.” “Thank you, nanny.” “That’s better. You’re welcome. Now drink this all up.” The two of them teamed up to train me to my role. I finished my bottle, and Emily took it. “That’s a good boy. Did you enjoy that?” I nodded, but Emily didn’t accept that. “Tell nanny how much you enjoyed your bottle.” “I liked it.” “I liked it, what?” “I liked it, nanny.” I was constantly asked questions that required me to respond with either ‘mommy’ or ‘nanny’. If I did respond right, I was praised. If I didn’t, I was scolded. By dinner, I used ‘mommy’ and ‘nanny’ without much prompting. It wasn’t natural, and I only did it to avoid being reprimanded, but it wasn’t a fight I needed to win. It’s been such a long time now that it’s strange for me to call them anything else. My sister is my nanny, and my step-mother is my mommy. It’s not just because I have to. By now it’s because it feels right. They are the ones who have cared for me and loved me, and really are my mom and nanny. I sat in my high chair, and at my entire dinner without too much fuss. Mommy praised me for eating so well, and then said, “Nanny, why don’t you go get Mark bathed and ready for bed.” Emily hesitated, and asked, “Are you sure?” The idea of an 18-year-old stepsister giving her 22-year-old stepbrother a bath seemed inappropriate. But Ashley didn’t want it to seem that way and quickly replied. “Yes, it’s important that he gets used to seeing you as his nanny. As his nanny, until he is ready to do it himself, you need to make sure he is bathed. You would do it for any other child, right?” She became my real nanny right there. “You’re right. It’s just like any other child.” She wiped my face and removed my tray. “Come on you. Let’s get you a bath.” She felt my soggy diaper and said, “I think you need a diaper change anyway. You used your diaper like a good boy.” It felt a little strange, but Emily tried to make me feel comfortable. It was made even stranger by the request that my new mommy made before I was taken for my bath. “I think you should shave his hair down. It’s going to be a lot easier if he doesn’t have any hair.” One of the concerns that we both had was getting aroused, but this never happened. I’ve never felt aroused by Emily in all the time that I knew her. It’s not that she is not attractive in any way, but I just don’t see her that way. Before that, she was just a little sister that I didn’t give too much thought about. She was always nice to me, but I mostly ignored her. After that, she was the one who looked after me. Ashley was the one in charge, but Emily was the one took care of me. In fact, in all the time I’ve lived like this, I’ve never once gotten an erection from Emily. Her friend Heather has changed my diaper a bunch of times and it happens a lot. It even happens with Ashley, which is always embarrassing. They just use a cold towel, and my soldier loses its will. I was tired by bedtime. I finished my bath and came down to watch some television and then Emily took me up to bed at 8:15. She put me in the crib and read a story. I forget which story she read, but I remember feeling very relaxed and loved. My parents used to read stories to me when I was very young, but it hadn’t happened in a long time. She finished the story and kissed my forehead. Ashley did the same, and said, “Good night. Thank you for being such a good boy and letting us take care of you.” I slept really well that night. I fell asleep pretty quickly and didn’t wake up until the morning when Ashley woke me. My diaper was soaked, and I was expecting to be punished for the wet diaper. Instead, Ashley praised me for use my diaper. I soon discovered their method. I was praised when my diaper was wet, or messy, but scolded when I didn’t use the diaper. I wasn’t even supposed to acknowledge that I needed a change. They ignored me if I did, and I would be punished if I kept asking. I was mostly good the next day, but I didn’t want to poop in a diaper.Over the last few days, I had been using laxatives. Emily gave me cod liver oil and fed me a whole bunch of fruit. She kept handing me bottles of water, but I still didn’t poo. Eventually, I was given an enema, and that cleaned me up. After that, my diet kept me naturally regular and I didn’t have much choice but to use my diaper. Things went so much easier for me when I didn’t question their authority.If I was good, I was given treats and privileges. But if I tried to fight my boundaries, I was quickly punished with more restrictions. I wasn’t allowed to leave the room without an adult, and when I tried to walk out of the room I was confined in the playpen. On the 3rd day, I refused to go down for my nap. Emily tried to get me into the nursery, but I ran away from her. I don’t know why I did it, but I guess I was just trying to regain some independence. Emily caught me, dragged me to the corner, and pulled down my sweatpants. She made me stand in the corner in just my wet diaper for the entire nap time. Two hours later she asked, “Are you ready to be a good boy?” “Yes, nanny.” I cried. “Good. Let’s get you changed. Since you were naughty and didn’t take your nap, you’re going straight to bed.” It was only 4 pm, but I was led to my nursery, changed, put in my pajamas and into my crib. No story, no goodnight kiss. I just had a dark room to keep me company. Emily can in with a bottle of Ensure for my dinner, and then left me in the nursery for the remainder of the night. The next morning I was put in the high chair and had no spoon. Ashley calmly said, “When little boys are naughty they can’t be trusted to feed themselves. Maybe if you’re good, you will appreciate being able to feed yourself.” I was spoon fed every meal and spent rest of the day in the playpen. I was given the privilege of feeding myself after one day and eventually allowed to roam the living room. It soon became apparent my life was much more pleasant if I behaved. If I didn’t, I was given more restrictions and had to earn my rights back. The worst punishment I received was being put in booties and mittens. The booties had a tennis ball sown into the sole, which made it almost impossible to walk. I could walk, but my balance wasn’t very good. The mittens were sown the thumbs, and my hands weren’t useful. I was helpless and needed an adult to help me with everything Emily took care of me most of the time, but Heather was my part-time babysitter as well. Normally she would come over to watch me, but I would occasionally need to go to their house. They even bought a large-sized stroller so they could take me with them if they had to go out. Riding in the stroller can be a little awkward. I’m always worried how it looks, but since it’s a special needs stroller, nobody seems to pay any attention to it. Emily and Heather don’t mind using it because it keeps me close by, and they don’t have to worry about me wandering away. And it’s easier to use the family restrooms should I need a change. They finally potty-trained me six months later. After a while I just stopped fighting their restrictions, and accepted how I was I treated. As I proved that I was able to behave, my restrictions were removed. After six months Ashley decided I was ready to be an adult and went about potty-training me again. For a week, it was just like I was a little kid, and they were teaching me to use the potty on my own. I was taking to the toilet when needed, and gradually given freedom to use the bathroom by myself. After a week I moved back into my bedroom downstairs and was given the same privileges that I used to have. Emily was no longer my nanny, and I could come and go as I pleased. The only warning was that I was supposed to wear diapers at night, and any relapse would result in a return to my infantile status. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ready for the freedom. It wasn’t just that I could come and go as I pleased. Six months in diapers had taken their toll, and I continued to have accidents. I used the toilet fine when I was being watched, but once Emily was no longer there to remind me- I started to have accidents. I’m sure I could have figured that out, but I also reverted back to what I was doing before. I started staying up late and using drugs. A week later Emily caught me smoking pot in my room and told her mother.I was sure that I would be kicked out this time, but instead, I was immediately put back into diapers. I spent the next month in booties and mittens, and it another month before they even let me feed myself. Emily kept a very short leash on me. Unless Emily could watch me without distraction, I had to stay in my playpen at home. And I was confined to the stroller whenever we left the house. It’s been a full year since my relapse and eighteen months since I was first put in diapers. My life has changed completely, but in many ways, it’s quite a bit better. I’ve started to take some classes online and beginning to take some responsibility. But I still rely on Emily and Ashley to take care of me. In most cases, there is little indication of my status as a large toddler. My bedtime is still 8:30, and I’m still taking naps. I still have a full-time babysitter, which is either Emily or Heather. But I don’t use the high chair anymore, and no longer need to stay near the adults. I can do whatever I want at home, as long I let them know where I am. I still wear diapers, but nobody would know if I just went to potty by myself. However, I don’t know if I could, even if I wanted. I’ve been wearing diapers for so long that I don’t even think about it. Somebody always checks my diaper, and I’m still scolded if it’s dry. The only time I ever use the potty is when Heather is watching me. She doesn’t like changing poopy diapers and will take me to the potty if she thinks I might need to poop. However, I usually poop before they take me out of the crib in the morning. I’m still not allowed to leave the house by myself. Somebody has to be with me if I’m out of the house, and they want me to stay close. Emily typically makes me hold her hand, and if I don’t they will put me in the stroller. In fact, the last time I got in real trouble was when Emily and Heather took me shopping. I didn’t want to get put in the stroller and started to pout. Emily agreed to keep the stroller in the car, but I had to stay close. They were looking at clothes, and I got bored. I wandered off, and Emily found me. She just took me to the car and put me in the stroller for the rest of the day.

It didn't seem to work. I tried to mess around with it.

I just watched a rerun of Bob's Burgers on Toon, and there was interesting reference about DLS. I can't remember the name of the episode, but Bob has to work two jobs to pay for Tina's birthday party. His nemesis Jimmy Pesto won't let Jimmy Jr. go to the party unless Bob gives him his mustache. In the end, Bob blackmails Jimmy Pesto because he finds out that Jimmy Pesto is a diaper-lover who goes by the name of 'Baby-num-num." Not a great reference, but it was a reference.

From reading it, some who didn't wear needed them.