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Hi I'm Ainsley. I'm 20 years old and am very new to the community. I would like to find some more experienced abdl members that could possibly roleplay with me as the little to see if this is something I would enjoy.

Chapter One "It's a big decision," Claire's mother worriedly commented. "Are you sure it's something you want to do at your age?" she asked, knowing that the answer would be the same as last time, and every time before that, ever since Claire had informed Kathy of her intentions six months ago. "Ugh, yes mum," the nineteen-year-old whined from the other room, exactly as Kathy expected. "Besides," Claire continued, lowering her voice to room temperature as she lugged a box into the kitchen, "It'll only be sixth weeks at a time, at least at first." Claire dropped the large brown cardboard box on the table with what she hoped would be a conversation-ending thud, but was disappointingly a merely a muffled comma. Her mother looked up from her rapidly cooling cup of tea, and was about to begin a new tack when Claire cut her off: "Anyway, it's not like they don't have the internet in Germany! And you know I'll always be a few hours flight away." It was the trip of a lifetime, and what's more, it tied into her studies at university, and so would even count towards her degree! She certainly wasn't going to let her neurotic mother get in the way. Kathy had always been more than a little nervous about Claire's various escapades, even something as little as a sleepover with school friends. Of course, Kathy had a little more reason to be worried than most parents. Claire had been, until the age of about 14, what they used to euphemistically call a 'bedwetter', but in the last few years had become known as 'wetters'. As it became clear that the new generation was increasingly likely to be only fully out of diapers by five, and a significant minority of about 20% were in need of night-time diapers until mid-adolescence, new phrases had begun to creep into common usage. The Government initially used the term "incontinence sufferers", but this was rapidly thrown out by the younger generation as patronising. They then moved onto "those who use toilets less", until settling for the simple, catch-all phrase "diaper wearers". Never one to miss an opportunity, of course, the diaper industry had thrived with this increase in marketing potential. Claire remembered the old "Drynites" brand vaguely, and shuddered at the thought of the unfortunate souls who had to wear them. Flimsy, low-capacity and small, they were quickly replaced by increasingly large sizes of baby diapers, and by the time Claire had finally outgrown her bedwetting, most large supermarkets sold tape-up diapers all the way up to a 32" waist, with capacity and print variations to suit plenty of tastes. Kathy's concern for her daughter was more of a hangover from the perceptions of bedwetters from her day - Claire would always tell her not to worry, as usually at least one other girl would be in diapers at any sleepover. Kathy, however, worried nonetheless, and Claire was quietly grateful. It was better, she thought, to have a mum who cared too much, instead of too little. So, 5 years free from diapers, Claire was here, packing for her first big trip abroad - six weeks working at the University in Cologne! Claire opened the large brown box and began placing its contents on the kitchen table. Books, pencil cases, protractors, notepaper - it was all here, stationary she hadn't needed since school days, neatly packed away by Kathy. Kathy, oblivious to Claire's silent thanks, began to fuss, "Well don't get it all out here! Take it up to your room, that's where your clothes and suitcases are!". Knowing she was right, Claire grunted in annoyed approval and began to quickly place the items back in the box. As she threw in the last pencil case, she felt her hand brush up against a familiar surface - a sort of fine cotton - but ironically she couldn't quite put her finger on what it reminded her of. Eager to escape her now irritated mother, she bustled upstairs, trying hard not to drop her now unbalanced box of school things as she went. Laying the stationary out on the slightly dusty floor of her bright, modern bedroom, she began to make piles - "take", "keep", and "throw away". Ikea pencils went in "throw away", treasured teenage doodles went in "keep", and her best pens went in "take", ready to packed off to Germany. As she reached the bottom of the box, having filled the "keep" pile far larger than her mother would have liked, Claire's hand again brushed up against that family fabric. Curious, she looked into the box. There, at the bottom in the corner, was a solitary diaper. It was clearly unused, and it was clearly hers - first, it was covered in a little blue flower pattern, and second, it looked about the size and thickness of a small parcel, certainly big enough for her 24" waist. Her heart beating imperceptibly faster, Claire reached down and picked it up. First, she went to put it into the throw away pile, "After all," she reasoned to herself, "No one would want one old diaper, and I certainly don't need it". But she stayed her hand, and placed it down in the "keep" pile. "Who knows," she though, "I might need it in the future - maybe I'll get the flu, and won't be able to make it to the toilet". She stood up, and was about to go downstairs when the blue and white diaper, perched on a pile of half-used school books and potentially useful post-it notes, caught her eye one more time. "Well, if I am going to be in Germany for 6 weeks, why wouldn't I need it then? Besides, I don't know what exactly the diaper situation is over there, so it may be the only thing I can find." To be on the safe side, then, she moved it to the "take" pile, ready to be packed. But first she went down stairs for a nice cup of tea.

Hello I

I'm in my 60 I became dl after many years in diapers myself do to growing with incontinence both ways in the 50s and 60s it was considered a behavior problem as to medical problems they consider it today .in my day we didn't have the throw a ways they have today it was cloth and rubber

Rosy,a girl around 24 losing her job as a space flight engineer, and having to return to her birth planet:

It was a home alone weekend for me, so I was able to spend all of it diapered and in my girl clothes (except at work).

I basically texted her saying I wanted to confess my most embarrassing secret. I ended up just saying *sends pic of my stash of things I'm into* and sent her a pic of my diaper stash. Her reply was "Huh! I've always wondered what it'd be like to do that!" I already knew I'd get this kind of reaction, but I was still nervous about actually telling her. We went on to have a long conversation over text about diapers, catheters and stents. She said she has kinda wanted to try cathing! I now have no secrets from my best friend!

An ongoing WIP project by Young'N'Rebellious! I've divided the following into 4 categories - Ideas (To be split into Fun Ideas and Punishment Ideas), Activities, Things To Say (To be split into Positive/Reassuring Things and Not So Positive/Teasing Things), and Advice & General ABDL Info/Knowledge.

On another forum there were a couple of posters that mentioned that they really weren't Diaper Lovers and were looking for another term to describe how they really felt about their

Hello to all, New on DD, but a long time member of the community. Just another DL, making his way through a life, with diapers on the brain. For me, it started right after I was taken out of diapers, at about two. I never really was a bedwetter, but I suppose I always wished it would happen, to give me a good reason to need to be put back in diapers, but it never happened, given the nature of my family situation, growing up in the 50's. Honestly, I sorta hoped I would grow out of the need to relive those feelings and sensations that diaper thoughts gave me, but as I got older, the feelings only increased. Once I hit puberty, all of the feelings,

Author's Note: Set in England in the recent past, an minor aristocratic family has a rather odd approach to potty training. My first attempt at a diaper story, I hope to keep it short, sweet, and slightly funny. Chapter One I feel, dear reader, that I must bring you up to speed. It has often been observed by our own sort, but more frequently (and, rather obviously) by our observers, that the landed gentry develop idiosyncratic ways. Cooped up, as they often are, in drafty old houses miles from even a mere whiff of civilisation, bizarre microcosms of humanity begin to form. This of course was compounded before the advent of the motorcar, so the prospect of reprieve was so distant that complete acceptance of their lot was pretty much guaranteed. Some formed little languages of their own - I once spent a summer in a Tudor dump up north where the word "peach" was used for so many things I could barely keep track. One of my distant uncles, I'm reliably informed by the man in the pub, started a tradition of shooting at funny shaped clouds every morning at five o'clock. More shockingly, the Preston-Barts in Hampshire are Catholic. Our family, however, is perhaps the most peculiar of them all (N.B. - ought that to be perculairest? Look up later.). Since around about the mid 17th Century - no one is quite sure of the date - almost all of our family have returned to nappies pretty sharpish after they were so unjustly taken from us. Indeed, so common is this circumstance that when the 6th Baronet demolished the family home to rebuild it in the Georgian style, he neglected to add any toilets. Of course, the attempt to potty train is still made, although the lack of alternative facilities makes this really part of the whole dance. I was around five when I was taken out of nappies in the day, and about six when I was taken out of them at night. I was soon whisked off to school, and, only returning to the old place a few times a year, was mostly using the W of C as one might expect. I did still, however, wet the bed, perhaps once or twice a week, but by summer term of my second year, that too subsided. A few cycles of the heavens later, as that chap from Greece might have said, I was facing a rather long stretch in the house over summer. My father usually took us off to Italy in the nicer months, but having lost a fair bit on a rather extravagant bet involving a friendly game of chess and an absurd amount of rice, it was safe to say he didn't have the oomph that particular year. So, at they joyful age of 12, I was stuck in that rotten place with no one near my age except my older sister, Ethel. Ethel had just turned eighteen, and was ghastly. Although I'm not certain what exactly a ghast is like, she was certainly like one. So it was that one morning about two weeks into my incarceration that I was lying on my stomach in the drawing room pretending to practice my Latin grammar, when really drawing rather vicious caricatures of my house masters at school. Ethel was curled up in an armchair reading "The Arabic Princess" and padded up to the nines in nappies. She had only spent about a year out of them, as it happens, at age fourteen, and was dreadfully engrossed in her book; made even more apparent by the growing wet patch between her legs. As I lay there attempting to recall the precise shape and nature of Mr Mulch's nose, I suddenly felt as though a small switch had been flicked in my brain. I couldn't tell then what the switch was controlling, but rather soon it made itself very clear. I noticed, one rapidly after the other, a pressure in my bladder and bowels. I very quickly filled my underwear with those respective contents, continuing to examine the visual faculties of noses as I did so. Now, it wasn't as though it had snuck up on me, as it does when one wets the bed, nor was it that I had made a conscious effort to empty myself, but more that I simply no longer cared. Ethel, ghastly as ever, didn't notice my change in state, but to be fair, I barely did either. It wasn't until mother came in to call us for lunch that I was discovered. Mother squealed in delight - "I knew you'd come round, dear. Let's pop upstairs, shall we?". I was, waddling slightly, led up to my room, where, after asking the maid for supplies, mother and I opened my chest of drawers and formed a pile of my underwear on the bedspread. "I shan't expect I'll be needing these anymore," I informed her with a hint of triumph in my voice. The maid soon returned with supplies - a vast quantity of nappies, talcum powder and flannels, a changing mat and waterproof mattress cover - and took away my underwear to be disposed of. I was thereafter changed into a nappy for the first time in six years, and followed mother down to lunch. Chapter Two A decade later, at the ripe old age of twenty-two, brings us up to just before now. I was rattling up the drive in my new car, pretty chuffed with the world. I shifted my weight in my soaked nappy as I changed gear, and felt thankful for the modern marvel of synthetic leather - I'd had the car reupholstered in it, by the same chaps in Florence who make our changing mats. Much had changed in the intervening ten years, although mostly along the obvious path, but not so much re: the nappy situation, although no one would really expect it to. I did relatively well in my schooling exams, and went up to Oxford to read Art History. Never had much trouble about the choice of underwear, but then again my family's habit was well known even amongst those who didn't know me, and so it was let slide. After all, Peeker Preston-Barts was a Catholic! So I graduated with a Third Class Honours, which was to be expected, and spent a while hanging around Europe. It was there I met a corker of a woman - Cherry Otherington. You see, it wasn't just an overfull nappy that accompanied me up the drive, but the delight that was Cherry herself. I'm not one for gushing, but she was certainly very pretty. Not particularly tall - definitely not in the vein of a Michelangelo - but if I were to stretch the sculptural analogy, much more suited to a bust, if you hop on my drift. A small blonde bob topped the whole thing off, like a... Well, like a cherry, I suppose. We pulled up outside the house and the footmen, a fair number of them new, scurried away our luggage, and, shortly, the car. Mother met us over the threshold, beaming. "I hope you had a pleasant journey," she said, "and you must be Cherry, oh how lovely it is to meet you at last!". "It's lovely to see you too, Ma," I failed to reply. "Now," she continued, "We're just about to serve tea in the conservatory; do either of you need a change?" Cherry, after a flash of bemusement sent my way, diplomatically replied, "No, I think these clothes will be fine 'til the evening, if that's alright with you?". "Don't be silly!" Mother replied, "Do you need to change your nappy? - I know I do, I was just too excited waiting for you!". A further and more intense glance of bemusement was pinged my way, this time by both women; a veritable barrage of pinging. "Oh I know this old chap does," Cherry returned, "But I have been free from nappies since I was about four, thank you." "Well I'm not sure I would call it a freedom, Cherry, but you might struggle here. This house is rather lacking in the way of toilets. I imagined my son would have informed you!" Mother batted back, her English temperament almost straining at the leash. "I'm sure I'll be fine," my corker replied, before finally turning her attention to me, "Come on, you need a change though, don't you? Let's get that sorted and then come down for tea." The situation not so much de-escalted as hovering in mid air, we moved toward the staircase, and I let my soon to be removed nappy fill with poo. Mother briskly, although with slightly apart legs, called a maid for assistance in a ground-floor changing room. Once upstairs, like a cheap tailor, I attempted to patch things up with Cherry. "Look here," I said, as she removed my filled nappy, "I don't want you and Mother getting off on the wrong foot, but you should be alright with the lack of toilets; there's one in the gamekeeper's cottage at the back of the south garden." "Oh thank you, darling," she replied whilst applying copious amounts of talcum powder, "but I think I shall be alright until tomorrow." She patted my now fresh nappy and handed me my trousers, after which we made our way back down the staircase at to tea. The rest of the day passed rather smoothly - I took a brief leave to change Ethel, now slightly less ghastly, as she was as ever engrossed in a book and demanded not to be disturbed. Dinner was tremendous - the wine flowed much as wine does when it does flow - and we were all, I dare say, getting pretty squiffy in the drawing room at around ten. Cherry, due perhaps to her non-Michaelangelo stature, was really rather drunk, and so took some herbal tea to sober up. Ethel, having finished her book, was now repeating the entire plot to an audience who were so un-captive that 'bored out of their sculls' would hardly cut it. Cherry, after sitting quiet for a while and appearing as though she was gently dodging invisible fish, leaned over and whispered in my ear. "I say, I've just had the most peculiar sensation - like a switch being flicked!". No sooner as she had finished speaking, the sound well known in our house - that of a stream of pee against the enameled floor - gently lifted itself through the air. "Darling," she continued with no hint of sorrow, "I think I've had an accident". I do mean to continue this, but, If I don't, I hope that was satisfactory. Comments appreciated.

Looking for Ab/Dl's in Melbourne region wanted to meet a few new people

I am quite new to all this would love to talk to some people and discuss ideas

This is not what you might call "fap material", I have some more "fappy" stories in my mind that I MIGHT write in the future but not yet... NOT yet. At the moment I'm bored and I've decided to write this thing that has been going through my head for a couple of months now. Only 1% of it is based in real facts and I only have parts of it, I'm not even sure if I know how I want it to end, or if it even has an actual ending but well, also english is not my native language so please if you are going to critisize my grammar and stuff like that please be polite about it >_< . Here goes nothing...