CindyMarie

It is the Curity 21x40 gauze diapers. The reason I miss them is because they were the ones I was disciplined with while in foster care in the early 50's. I was occasionally diapered between 7 and 10 years old though I didn't have a wetting problem or wet the bed. The foster mother just believed humiliating me for bad behavior was better than physical discipline. I can tell you it wasn't better, at least for me. You heal from physical pain much easier than mental pain. I am now in my late 70's and still have a fetish because of being diapered and stood in front of the other children. Her cruelty knew no bounds and she even forced me into the back yard until I'd wet myself while my playmates watched. She'd then instruct them to laugh and call me a baby while I cried. To this day, I can still remember how devastated I felt while they pointed and laughed at my failing. I no longer have to hide my wearing diapers as I am now incontinent and need them. With the humiliation of discipline gone, they aren't nearly as exciting. However, I still have a couple dozen Curity diapers and use them as liners for the softness. Curity diapers were by far the softest, most comfortable diapers ever made. They feel really great wet too. Today's best cloth diapers can't hold a candle to them. As for plastic pants, she never made me wear them. Probably didn't have any big enough, I don't know. That also made the diapers more visible and humiliating.

I have a fantasy that is based on real events that happened while I was in boot camp. I had joined the service because I had become too dependant on my mother and lived in fear of eventually having to be on my own. I thought the Marine's would 'Make a Man out of Me'. Unfortunately, it didn't take but a week after being assigned a squadron at Parris Island before I started having problems. The Drill Instructor was a very stern and forceful man who pushed us recruits to the limit. One day, as we were on the parade field learning to march, I felt the need to use the bathroom. I asked the instructor and was excused long enough to go. However, over the next few days, my needs increased until I needed to be excused every day. It was very disruptive and so the instructor finally said I could wait. That's when I had my first accident and wet myself right there on the parade field. I was horrified and scared of why I kept needing to go so often. I was allowed to change but continued to need to go more and more often until I was wetting myself nearly every daily. At first, everyone seemed concerned but soon started to laugh and tease me, calling me Pissy Pants. I was so devastated, I just burst into tears which only added to my childish image. I also had to do laundry every evening while the others had their rest period. This went on for about a week when the Drill Instructor called me into his office. He told me this couldn't go on and he might have to send me to the P.O.U. That's the 'Psychiatric Observation Unit.' where recruits with mental issues were treated. I pleaded I would try harder to stop and he gave me another week or I'd have to go. Well, needless to say, I couldn't stop. Then one evening, I saw him return and go to his room with a couple of the Squad Leaders. A short while later, I was called in and when I entered, he told me he'd come up with an solution that might help me. That's when he opened a bag he had brought in and pulled out a large package of cloth diapers and some plastic pants. "It's this or go to the POU which would be on your record and follow you the rest of your life. It's your choice.", he warned as I began to tremble with horror. "Please No! I don't want to wear diapers. I'm not a baby.", I cried. Though I didn't want to go to the P.O.U., I surely didn't want to wear diapers either. "Well, you don't have much choice. It's one or the other." Not getting an answer, one of the Squad Leaders grabbed my arm and pulled out into the squad bay. After telling everyone what was about to happen, he told one of them to remove the blanket from my cot and spread it out on the floor . He then had a couple other recruits remove my clothes despite my fierce resistance. I screamed to be let free but they continued to follow orders until I stood there naked and bawling. Pulling me to the floor, several recruits held me down while the Squad Leader knelt down and spread my legs. "Lift his bottom up so I can slip these diapers under him." My head was spinning wildly as I stared up at the ceiling while feeling the soft fabric being pulled up between my legs and securely pinned. Once diapered, I was stood up and told I would remain diapered until I stopped having accidents. I covered my face and cried as he held out a pair of plastic pants and ordered me to step in so he could pull them up. "Now pick up your blanket and remake your bunk.", he ordered as I numbly obeyed. It felt really weird having so much fabric between my legs as I tried to remake my bed. Just as I finished, I was grateful it was time for bed and I could cover my humiliating condition. As the lights went out, I could hear the others whispering and some even giggling as I cried myself to sleep. The next morning, I stayed under my covers as everyone got up and stood at the foot of their bunks. "Get yourself out of bed and at the foot of your bunk like the others.", came a harsh voice from the center of the room. I was helpless to disobey as I burst into tears while standing in front of everyone with my diapers and plastic pants shamefully on display. We were quickly ordered to get dressed and use the bathroom as I stood frozen, not knowing what to do. "That goes for you too. Now be quick about it and get dressed. "What about using the bathroom?", I asked nervously. "Have one of the others help and then get you rediapered unless you want to go as you are." His words terrified me as I quickly asked a couple of recruits to help me. Entering the bathroom, I stood waiting for help while watching everyone do their business. When the last ones started leaving, I stopped them and asked, "What about me?" "Too bad. We don't have time. Good thing you're wearing diapers.", they snickered at my dilemma. As I returned to my bunk, I quickly got dressed as we marched out of the building and marched to the mess hall. My diapers were bulky and made it obvious I had more on under my uniform than boxer shorts. Lined up at the entrance, we were marched in and assigned tables. By now, I felt the familiar urge in my groin and looked really scared as I sat down. One table at a time got up and went to the chow line until it was our turn. By now I was struggling to keep my legs tightly pressed together and terrified of my pending doom. As the recruit next to me pulled at my arm to get up, I could feel myself give way and grabbing my crotch, I cried, "Oh No!" Though my squadron knew what was happening, the others didn't and quickly turned my way in alarm. I just froze as I stood there and helplessly wet myself like a baby. My squad couldn't hold back and started to laugh while telling the rest of the room what was happening. That's when everyone began chanting, "Baby's wetting his diapers. Look at the big baby." My mind went numb with humiliation and shame as I burst into further tears. My Drill Instructor, seeing my failing, came and dragged me to the front of the room. "I want you all to see what happens to recruits who can't control themselves." At that, he grabbed my belt and unfastened it while I struggled to pull away. Getting a couple of the nearby recruits to hold my arms, he pulled my pants down to my ankles so everyone could see how I was dressed. I was so traumatized, I couldn't budge as I felt myself loose what resistance I had left and finished wetting my diapers until they sagged. The roar of laughter was deafening as I just bawled. After everyone had quieted down, I was ordered to remove my pants and return to my seat while one of the squad leaders got my tray of food. I was so devastated I couldn't eat and I was threatened to be fed like a baby if I didn't try. As soon as everyone finished eating, we were marched out onto the parade field for our daily drill. I don't know how I managed as my wet diapers rubbed against my groin until it burned. I was relieved to get back to the barracks and get out of my wet pants. However, that also meant my laying back down in the middle of the room to get freshly diapered. This went on for almost a week when my drill instructor felt it wasn't helping me stop wetting myself, If anything, I was wetting even more often. He finally decided he had no choice but to send me to the P.O.U. That was another whole story and though I was introduced to a few other recruits with a similar problem I wasn't ready to deal with what I was about to experience. I was really horrified when I found out they had a program and accommodations for young men like myself. My first introduction came when I was led to my new quarters. When I entered, the first thing I saw was a row of beds lining both sides of the room. But what was worst, they all had railings much like those used on baby cribs. I went into a panic as I was dragged to my bed and forced to climb in. within minutes, a nurse came over and introduced herself as Anne. "I'm going to be your caretaker while you're here so try and relax while I get you changed." My eyes widened in disbelief as I watched her return with a stack of fresh diapers and placed the on a table by my bed. "Now lay back and stop fighting so I can change your wet diapers.", she said as she reached for my plastic pants. I thought things couldn't get any worst but I was so wrong as I looked up at this beautiful young girl as she changed my diapers. I was really embarrassed when she sprinkled some baby powder over my diaper area while talking to me as if I was a real baby. Her hands were soft and gentle as she pulled the cloth tight and pinned me in my degrading garment. :There we are. All freshly changed. Now lets get your panties back on." The grin on her face spoke volumes of how much she enjoyed babying us older boys. I stayed in the P.O.U. for nearly two months and went through daily counseling sessions which brought back several painful events from my early childhood. As hard as it was, it did help and I slowly stopped having accidents. Once I stayed dry for over a week, I was released to a new squadron that didn't know about my situation. It felt good to be a big boy again and I gradually regained some pride in myself. However, there was a secret spot inside me that kind of missed my stay at the P.O.U. In some strange sort of way, I missed that pretty nurse changing my diapers and cooing what a cute little baby I made.

Dear Rusty Pins, You're so right about many Foster parents doing it just for the money. However, I really think this woman also found pleasure in seeing me shamed and humiliated. Possibly, she got some kind of sexual kick out of it but I'll never know for sure. Seems she was enjoying it too much for it to just be discipline. What I also think is her daughter, witnessing this, might be learning to enjoy it as well. I say that because I remember her daughter making fun of me after I was diapered and would laugh and tease me about my needing my diapers changed. For several weeks later, when she was sent to fetch diapers for the real baby, she'd laughingly ask me if I needed some too. I felt so ashamed and degraded as I helplessly hung my head. It was a horrible feeling. The youngest boy, who originally told on me, later that day, told me he was sorry and didn't know she would punish me this way. However the older boys seemed to enjoy my humiliation, especially later on after I'd wet myself. For several weeks, they would threaten me and say they were going to tell her I'd wet outdoors again if I didn't give them what few toys I had. After we'd started school, they tried to force me to wet my pants once with threats they'd tell everyone at school about my wearing diapers if I didn't. Though scared, I refused and gratefully, they never said anything. I suspect they might have been warned silence by the mother or they'd have the same thing happen to them. It's really hard to believe people can be so cruel to children but it happened to me and it really bothers me to read the news and see it is still happening. Thankfully, it is now seen as abuse and punishable. Sadly, it is so humiliating and degrading, most kids are too ashamed to say anything. Makes me wonder how many others are going through what I had. They're lives are going to be altered forever and destroy all that they could become.

I'm sorry but this fetish is nearly impossible to stop. I've spent many years (and dollars) seeing many sex therapist in an attempt to stop this desire. Nothing worked! My wife tried to accept it over the years but it secretly bothered her. As the years past, the need for diapers increased and soon became the only way I could get sexually turned on. Our sex life payed the price and we soon slept apart. Because we still loved each other, we stayed together for over 40+ years but the intimate closeness was not there. If there was any way for me to end this obsessive, compulsive addiction, this should have given me the strength to quit but I couldn't. There are many reasons (needs) to desiring diapers and maybe some can be helped. For me, I was often punished and humiliated with diapers by my foster mother up until 9 years old. Even though I didn't have a wetting problem, I think she found some kind of sick pleasure in shaming me with diapers. The humiliation was beyond words when I would eventually end up wetting the diapers. She would then stand me in front of the other kids and make me tell them what I did. She'd then tell them to laugh and call me a baby. I believe the rush of adrenaline along with some possible sexual stimulation from the feeling of the cloth diapers is what caused my addiction. Anyway, I'm almost 76 years old now and still desire wearing diapers with memories of that foster mother pinning them on me while everyone laughed.