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INTRODUCTION I wanted to share more of my own experiences and stories with this community for a while now, and thought this would be a good one to start. For those who don’t know much about me, where do I even start? I have been described as a multifaceted gem with many different likes and aspects. I have always been the black sheep of my family, growing up the middle child between my two other sisters. I grew up having a pretty good childhood and loved video games early on. My mom says she has memories of her and my dad buying a Sega Genesis for the family, and at a very early age, I really took to it. I have since had many systems and love talking about video games with the community here. If you catch me in chat, bring up your favorite video games sometime. I would love to hear about them. My love for games did not stop there however. I also later found my way into TTRPGs (Table Top Role Playing Games). I love worlds made up from shared storytelling and being able to immerse myself in such a space. Some of the memories I have from these fictional worlds are as powerful as ones I have had in the real world, and I think that just shows the power of storytelling. I have always in one way or another loved storytelling and using my imagination in these ways. My parents say they could just leave me alone in my room for hours and I’d entertain myself with my own imagination. The Legos probably really helped with that at an early age too. Besides this, I also have a deep love for all things strange and spooky. Where most kids of my era probably grew up watching Blue’s Clues, I was obsessed with things like Goosebumps and Courage the Cowardly Dog. I have always had a love for horror and tales of strange things lingering in the uncanny valley. I’ve actually been working on my own horror story I one day would love to share here. It blends what is called liminal horror with some light ABDL themes maybe. I don’t want to spoil it too much about it. It has been a little delayed but I still plan on releasing it in the future. Besides games, storytelling, and the spooky, I also have a deep love of theme parks such as Disney World, Universal Studios, and all in-between. I will stay up late binging YouTube episodes of YesterWorld or DefunctLand. I love the immersion of theme parks and also have a love for immersing people and entertaining myself. And of course, another facet you are all probably waiting for me to talk about is yes, I consider myself ABDL. I like to wear diapers and enjoy all aspects of this thing—from being more of a DL overall, but still having a very big “little” side, as well as enjoying the idea of being a caretaker. It’s all so fascinating to me but also a big secret. I don’t really need to display this side of myself publicly and prefer to keep it behind closed doors. It’s not because of shame, and more of just how I personally feel something like this should be. I have had so many experiences growing into this, which I really hope to share with you all here over time. I don’t exactly recall where it all started, but I have been through what I think many here have, each in their own way. From having my own “early influences” to going through the whole binge/purge cycle. Growing up in a time where ABDL diapers weren’t always on the market, too. Making makeshift ones before I could get my hands on real ones. Remembering the first time I found this online and knowing I wasn’t the only one. I later found my way into this site, but for a long time, I just observed before starting to become more active. I later became one of the admin here and hold this place very dear to my heart. To say it is very important to me wouldn’t be saying enough. It helped me not only meet others with this same interest but so much more. Through this site, I have gotten more into making ABDL art, been able to work on my leadership skills which have helped me in other aspects of my life, made long-lasting friendships I would have never expected, and just overall been able to be more confident in this side of me. Hopefully, my stories may help others trying to understand this in their own journey, or can even just purely entertain. I think many of us have a version of the story I am about to tell. The one where the curiosity first stops being an abstract hum in our heads and becomes something we can finally touch. But curiosity is a lonely thing when you have nowhere to put it. For years, I explored the edges of this feeling in secret, using makeshift things—towels, tape, garbage bags, and silence—to try and capture a sensation I had only ever seen on the flickering screens of now-defunct websites. I was looking for that doorway into this I wasn’t supposed to enter according to what the "norm" was. And then, on one specific night in a house that wasn't mine, the house itself seemed to open that door for me. This is the story of that night—the night I stopped imagining and finally stepped into the crinkle in the quiet. It happened in the space between where I was and where I was going: in a basement filled with ghosts of holidays past, where I found a forgotten package of blue-tinted nostalgia waiting just for me. This is the true story of how I stepped into my first adult diaper and ABDL experience. CRINKLES BELOW THE DREAM HOUSE We were staying at my aunt’s townhouse before our trip. I was young, or rather younger than I am now. It was February and I remember the cool air getting out of my dad’s Jeep approaching the place. Porch lights coming on, shedding a dim light on a single stone step leading up to a white door of a modern townhouse condo. My aunt had done well for herself and through her life managed to coin a small fortune, as well as own multiple properties. One of which was the bougie and well-decorated townhouse we were staying at on this certain night. The reason, as mentioned earlier, is that my family and I were all going on a trip the following morning. A trip to the Disney parks for a week was all too exciting, but we had to be up super early to catch our flight. Thus, my aunt offered her place to us the night before. It was much closer to the airport and my family just did things like that. My aunt would give you the shirt off her back if she had to. She was also the one to take our grandmother in when she became too old to take care of herself. She would continue to do so until our grandmother passed away. I always enjoyed being at that townhouse. There were many past holidays spent there with all the cousins, aunts, and uncles. Being there this time though, with just me and my family, was different. Even if it was just for that night to sleep. Being in that place that was usually always bustling with people and cheer in every room, was now still. Not even my aunt was there that night. She had given my dad the entry code, so it was literally just me and my family. It felt different that night. Like the kind of quiet that didn’t belong there—but I remember liking it. Sure, I was excited for the trip the following morning to officially begin, but just sort of soaking in that we were going to have this place to ourselves for a night was exciting too. The place in this story sat between our family home and the Disney World vacation: a place in-between or a literal liminal space. I remember pulling up to her driveway after the sun had set. Leaving most of our luggage in the Jeep and only bringing in a few things for the night. We were just staying there the night after all, so that we could have a shorter drive to the airport and all get a little more rest. But who could rest when you were going to Disney World for a long week? The excitement was too great, like a kid on Christmas Eve. So, what would one do on such a night? Exactly what you all are probably thinking. I remember “sleeping” on the living room couch, as both of my sisters and parents had taken all the other bedrooms. I didn’t mind, though. I have always been the one in my family to be the first to take the couch, the rollout cot in a hotel room, or the floor and a sleeping bag in our first small camper. I have always been a little adventurer, so that’s what I did that night. I went on a little adventure—or rather, one that would become more “little” than I had planned, but maybe that house had planned for me. As I mentioned, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t have well turned on the TV, as my parents may have heard. We were all supposed to be sleeping after all. I didn’t just want to do that anyways; I wanted to explore. Have you ever had that feeling late at night, or in the very early hours of the morning? That feeling that the world has gone to bed, and yet you have not. That time, especially when you are younger, feels like it is just for you. Though at the same time, you are not supposed to see it at all. The world takes on a different quality, a quieter atmosphere. The silence becomes profound and a sense of independence manifests in these magic hours. It feels like you have a private world all to yourself, where one can think, read, or play in peace. And these feelings were only enhanced with the space I was in. It was something truly magical, like a secret place unlocked that I needed to explore. Fueled by my excitement and pre-vacation adrenaline, I decided to sneak about. I was a little nymph in the night, tiptoeing across the plush carpeted living room where the sound of the air conditioning almost billowed, through the kitchen where the hum of the refrigerator seemed louder in the silence, and eventually down the beige, half-turned stairway that would lead down into a dark still basement. For even the age I was at for many, basements can still be a scary place, especially when an overactive imagination is left to run wild. As I descended the stairwell, the temperature shifted, and even the smell changed from bougie townhouse to cool, dusty concrete. It seemed like I was entering a completely different world entirely. Though a little unnerving, there was another stronger feeling pulling me downward: nostalgia. Enticing me down its steps into a reminiscence of holidays past, this had always been the hangout spot for the cousins over the many holidays we would have had there. Around the half-turn carpeted stairway, my naked feet crept down until they reached the cold cement floor. I can’t really explain it, but the feeling of sneaking down here, with just me and the dark stillness, was super fun for me. It’s a feeling I can’t really describe other than having a powerful nostalgia for whatever "it" is. One by one, I clicked the pull-chain lights, the yellow glow slowly claiming the corners of the room as I stealthily lit the space. Waiting for any noise above—if my parents woke up, I would have to make a mad dash up to the couch. Not that I would have gotten into much trouble, but it was fun to play otherwise. There is something exhilarating about this when we are younger. It’s this kind of harmless fun that gives us both a sense of excitement and allows us to be a little juvenile in our youth. Little did I know at this time, there would be something else down there that would tap into those same feelings… only much more potent. As the light bulbs illuminated parts of the basement, I just kind of took it all in. An unfinished basement with the same old low ceiling that had always been there. Exposed wooden floor joists running across the top, supported by heavy dark metal I-beams. A smooth, pale grey, concrete floor stretched out to the white drywall. On the far left, a large vertical pipe wrapped in reflective silver insulation, likely part of a water heater or HVAC system. To the right stood several large storage bins, plastic bags filled with soft goods, and a tall decorative vase holding dried decorative branches, which added a small touch of "home" to the otherwise liminal space. On another far side wall, the wooden shelves that made a sort of pantry sat stacked full of canned goods. An empty and dusty air hockey table that had seen many games stood still in the middle of the basement, and beyond it, the clustered seating area made up of one large square rug and some leather maroon couches and armchairs. They looked like "sleeping giants" on a carpeted island in the dim artificial light. It would not seem like much to anyone else, but this was the spot all the cousins throughout the years would bring their Legos, their video games, their Pokémon cards—whatever entertained us that year. It was our hangout spot, and there was something incredibly both nostalgic and magical being down here in the dead of night by myself. Seeing it in this stillness just reflecting on all those times. I had brought down a small handful of Lego figures to play with, or rather, to have them revisit these old battlegrounds where so many battles were forged in our imaginations. Now, I know some may be thinking: Weren’t you a bit old to be playing with Lego figures still? But seeing how this is posted in a place where many adults engage in things they may be a bit "too old" for, hopefully I won’t be judged too badly. The exploration of old battlegrounds began as the tiny brick space bounty hunters and alien knights set up a perimeter around Mt. Couch Cushions. I was deep in my own imagination, almost regressing to a point, when the brick battalion decided to expand their exploration to a stack of boxes and bins in the far corner of the basement. The little adventure in my head came to an utter halt when my eyes caught what was sticking out of a half-opened cardboard box. At first, I thought I may have been half imagining it. But as I crawled closer, leaving my Lego men behind, it became clearly obvious. Everything else around me felt like it just stopped. A feeling washed over me and made my stomach sink—not in a sickness kind of way, but more of that feeling you get before you go down a roller coaster. I still remember thinking in that moment that it couldn’t be real, or that this was a dream that I would wake up from. Sitting there, staring at it, even pinching myself in the foot a few times to make sure this wasn’t a dream. There I was, breathing so heavy alone in a basement, across from a pack of adult diapers. Now at this point in my life, I knew adult diapers were a thing. But knowing something from a distance isn’t the same as finding it… waiting for you. I had never really seen them in person. This was my first time seeing a pack like this where it was just me and I could get more hands-on with it. It all seemed so unreal; it still does thinking back. The package was half-opened and only half of the diapers were still there. As I had mentioned earlier, my aunt had been taking care of my grandmother before she passed away. These were clearly ones left over from around then, now packed away, buried, and forgotten. It was almost perfect for someone beginning to explore ABDL, and I was. I had always been so curious about wanting to wear diapers and what they would feel like. The diaper I took out of the package that I was now holding in my hands wasn’t makeshift; it was real. These weren’t your pull-up style ones, or what the “norm” thinks when they hear “adult diaper”. These were puffy, plasticky, with tabs on both sides; the real deal. It crinkled in my hands as I sat there on the hard cold cement floor, taking one out from the pack, feeling how soft and warm they were. This was a time before the ABDL community had diapers tailored to them. You’d see a mixture of cloth, plastic pants, and the more supreme medical diapers on now defunct old ABDL sites. These were certainly some of those "supreme" medical diapers, the best of the best at that time. So, excuse the pun, but when I say discovering that these were a proper adult diaper added another “layer” in all this excitement for me, believe me it did. I sat there for a long time, knowing what I wanted to do next, and not quite letting myself do it yet. I knew I was going to; I couldn’t resist. However, I remember just savoring that moment before, that disbelief that everything fell into place the way it did. All within this subterranean, nostalgic space. It almost seemed like it was meant to be. Or that this was all some sort of dream I’d awake from right before putting one on. At that point, I had only imagined what one like this may have felt like. But I was alone, my family was asleep, and there was a forgotten pack of already opened adult diapers sitting across from me. It was a moment made by circumstances that was almost too perfect, and I had to take it. I took a deep breath, opened the diaper out on the rug, and prepared to finally experience this for the first time. My excitement was so high that the pure energy in the air could have shattered the lightbulbs above. However, just as I was about to do this, a sudden noise from above broke the stillness of the silent crinkles. Muffled footsteps grew louder down the half-turn stairway. I was able to quickly grab and pull up my pajama pants, hide the diaper back in the cardboard box, and rush back to the floor where my Legos were laid out. Making a swift retreat to Mt. Couch Cushions. The rush of adrenaline and shame that often accompanies this kind of early exploration washed back over me. It was like an alarm clock going off. I told myself that if I was going to get caught for staying up, there was absolutely no way I was going to get caught for “the other thing.” As I sat there, heart racing, my older sister turned the corner into the basement. I felt as if I was hiding a body or something. One moment you are a “little nymph” playing with blocks; the next, you’re a teenager with a secret that feels life-altering. Or maybe in that moment I was overthinking and just a little paranoid. It was just a pack of diapers and obviously they weren’t mine. But there is something I think as a closeted ABDL that being around an adult diaper adds to the excitement or dare I say nervousness. Even if the others around you haven’t the slightest idea. My sister and I were cool, she wasn’t going to tell me to go to bed or tell my mom and dad. We were too old for that behavior anyways, but who am I to discuss who is too old for certain things. After all, I was just about to put on a diaper and continue playing with my Legos on a cold basement floor. My sister, staring down simply asked what I was doing down here so late at night. The box of diapers seemed to almost pulse with a light of its own in the corner of my eye. A light that only I could see. But I had to focus on my sister and make sure I wasn’t staring too much at the box of diapers directly behind her. I guess she had heard me moving around a bit in the basement or maybe couldn’t fully sleep either. I told her that I couldn’t sleep, and I just thought it was cool to see our aunt’s basement for once with just me. Oh, and maybe building Legos a little bit; that was obvious, luckily the other thing wasn’t. After some short chitchat that felt like forever, my sister went back upstairs, recommending I get some rest too. I recall just sitting there during that entire thing being so nervous, and even after being paranoid she would come back down. That, or my parents would, which would be even worse caught in that state. The silence of the house above felt heavy, like it was leaning against the basement door, trying to listen in on my secret. I probably sat there another half hour just waiting for more time to pass, to assure everyone else was asleep before I started “crinkling around the basement.” What an odd feeling for an ABDL. Imagine for a moment, you have never tried an adult diaper but have always been so curious about it. Those feelings over time build, and then there you are, right across from a pack of diapers ripe for the taking. You end up getting so close, only to have that moment be halted. Then you are sitting there for another half hour to let things above “cool off.” Oh, and the diapers are still right there across from you. That half hour was so drawn out, but also so exciting. I was telling myself I was finally going to wear a diaper—no, I was going to layer at least three of them for a super poofy one. I wasn’t going to get another moment like this for who knew how long. I decided in that wait time; I was going to indulge as much as I could. After what felt like forever, I got out the diaper again. I got myself ready again and laid down on it. It was already such a weird rush, and I hadn’t even taped up a side yet. The padding below felt soft to the touch; the material of the diaper was crinkly, almost papery. As I taped up the first side, it already felt so snug against me. As I pulled the other side and taped it up, I was overtaken by the feeling of it all. This is what a diaper felt like being on. It was all around me—back, front, and sides—soft and warm. It was so thick and snug pressing against my skin. As I began to roll over on my hands and knees, I felt the entire thing stretch and crinkle to keep the snugly soft fit. I took it all in; from the leg guards' elastic stretchy bands around my thighs, to the thicker padding in the back making its way up to the front. Another word I would use to describe the feeling is obvious. It sounds strange, but I recall thinking to myself that this was obviously a diaper. This wasn’t a bunch of garbage bags and paper towels taped up or a cheap adult pull-up; this was a diaper. I was wearing a diaper. And after a few moments of lying there, I decided to layer like I said I would, and was soon wearing three. It was euphoric for someone like me. Everything I had imagined it would be, but also something completely new to my senses. I remember just crawling around on the floor, simply to take in and feel every snug, soft, and bulky movement. As my legs shifted, the diaper shifted and moved along with me. It felt so secure, silly, and so very obvious. Now, to answer the question that many here are going to be curious about: no. I did not do THAT. You know, that thing that usually happens eventually when talking about adult diapers? I did not indulge in doing that, at least not this time anyways. I did not want to risk having to bag it up and throw it away in a house that wasn’t mine, let alone sneaking that sort of aftermath up into the upper floors. Leaving an even more embarrassing and obvious trail lingering behind me. Even if everyone was asleep, I wanted to be very careful. I did, however, wonder how something like that would feel. But that would be a story for another day. I told myself this would not be the last time I would experience this. That I would wear a diaper again, but that time would not come until much later in my life when I had a bit more independence. Again, that’s another story for another time. The rest of this night, I was just absorbing everything about that diaper. I crawled, I rolled, I waddled, and I laid down on the rug on my belly, kicking my feet up in the air as if the diaper had cast a spell over me. I recall trying to play with my Legos again and being very distracted by just simply being in it. That diaper and all of the feelings that came with it had me hypnotized. I wasn’t myself, but all of myself, all at the same time. Or maybe… more like myself than I ever had. I slipped into a carefree little space and recall being very giggly. I had gone from entering the basement as a stealthy little nymph to the bulky diaper changing me into a much clumsier and carefree one. Waddling around an empty basement in my pajama top and the loud crinkly diaper. Shifting my legs in a way I wasn’t used to because all of the padding made it harder to move, and even that was fun. I felt so much smaller. No shame, no embarrassment, no thoughts of “Why am I doing this?” It was just me, a nostalgic spot, these secret tranquil hours, and that wonderful diaper. Its warmth contrasted to the cold basement made it all feel like a safe, bulky cocoon. Eventually though, I did have to slide the diaper off and return upstairs. I really did not want to, and if you ask me now, I wouldn’t be able to recall how much time passed while I was wearing it. I think even back then that time spent must have felt dreamlike. Hours could have felt like minutes for all I know, and I imagine they did. But that time did have to come to an end, as I had a big day to get up for. An early flight, and a trip to the Happiest Place on Earth. Though at the time, I was already there, in that dingy empty basement, or rather in that soft bulky diaper. Once off, I folded the diapers up and put them back in the packaging as best I could with the tabs still taped up. I don’t remember throwing it away or trying to hide it under other trash, and I for sure did not wear it to sleep. Though I did think about that, too—the temptation was there. That soft, safe, obvious, bulky, silly temptation. That temptation that I am sure we have all felt from time to time. That strong pull I still feel through my life when I am off day dreaming about wearing again. My diaper wearing habits since then have changed (excuse the pun). I have more freedom to just buy them and wear them whenever I want, which I love. Though, there was something really special about my first time in one. Sneaking down into that spot, feeling all kinds of nostalgia already, and then in those magic tranquil hours bumping into it all the way I did. So there it is, my very first experience of wearing an adult diaper. In short, that experience was nothing short of euphoric, but also dreamlike. It’s a time that also feels so nostalgic to me. I do find it very interesting that in all of it, I literally descended down into a basement that wasn’t even my own. It just makes the whole thing feel more like a dream, or even like it was meant to happen to me. Going down those soft carpeted stairs to later go “down” another way. Not like sinking, but more in a state of "growing down"—a type of regression that overtook me when I put on that diaper. Sneaking staying up later past my bedtime and doing something I was not supposed to be doing, only to bump into a much greater taboo practice that was down there waiting for me in that special little liminal space. A dusty forgotten, yet still neatly packaged bunch of light blue puffy nostalgia. To me, there are so many parallels in this story of how it all happened. It’s just all so interesting to me that I knew eventually I had to share it with this community. I have many other experiences to share like this, and I hope that if you liked this one, you will enjoy other ones that I hopefully share down the line. As I sit here wrapping up this nostalgic nappy narrative, wearing a more modern and up-to-date diaper reflecting on it all, I am happy to have had such an experience. I have even since had recurring dreams where I am back in that house, finding secret passages that lead me into hidden rooms. As I rummage through them like a curious kid in these dreams, I almost always find it again. A package of that same neatly packed nostalgia, plasticky and crinkly as always. I have started calling it the Dream House, as my aunt later on in my life ended up selling it and I have no way of ever being able to return. Making the entire thing now feel even more ethereal than it ever did before. A place that no longer exists in my reality, only in my memory. This hauntingly beautiful liminal space I miss dearly. I have also since searched for what kind of diaper it may have been, and have looked at many throughout the years. Strangely enough, I can’t seem to find them either. I know they were not Depends, but obviously some kind of higher end medical brand. This was a time before ABDL diapers were even a thing after all. Those details however, are not what’s important in retelling this story. This story was never about trying to uncover those specific details, but more so to simply go “back down.” Back down to a simpler time and reconnect to those feelings and take a journey back into those memories. To immerse myself, as well as you, in that reminiscence. From the soft feeling of that beige carpet under my feet on the basement stairs, to the feeling of that first diaper in my hands with how cloudlike and weightless it all felt, all while having the feeling of so many butterflies in my stomach. That’s one of the reasons we tell stories after all, isn’t it? To immerse our listeners or readers. Many of us who identify as ABDL probably have memories of our first adult diaper, or when we first discovered this aspect of ourselves. So hopefully this story resurfaced some of those feelings for you, or simply brought you some comfort as we journeyed down those steps and into that diaper together. After all, those are two aspects of diapers that this story shares: comfort and nostalgia. And don’t we all deserve a little comfort and nostalgia from time to time?

The day started out like any other. Sayrui was stirring awake in her bed as the sunlight shined down into her eyes from the window. She slowly stretched and glanced around the blurry room. Her eyes slowly widen as she realizes she wasn’t in her own bedroom. The walls were all painted blue and had butterflies painted on them as well. Her gaze lingered over to the future which looked to be bigger sized baby furniture. Finally she had sat up only to realize she had woken up in a white crib and covered by a light green blanket. She panicked and started to cry as she was sure it was just some nightmare and that she would wake up once she panicked enough. Slowly standing up to climb at the crib bars as she peers over at the bedroom door rather sure she heard the door knob turning. (looking for an RP partner, feel free to join. I’d much prefer longer post then one liners, thank you!)

Peter’s Story He had no option, the river’s current was just too strong to swim against so he gave up and allowed himself to be carried along. Every now and then some flotsam or tree branch would float nearby but always seemingly just out of arms reach. He was way past panic; he was just waiting for the undercurrent to drag him to his watery doom. The rain continued to lash against him and the squalls whipped up the waves creating a sickening motion as he bobbed uselessly up and down. The storm was getting worse, the lightning scarily highlighting his plight and whilst he cried pitifully for help the thunder roared deafeningly in his ears… and then… A flash of light above him made him scream in terror but it was only his mother who’d turned on the bedroom light rushing to comfort her shrieking son. Peter hung tightly to her thankful that tonight at least he wasn’t to be swept away. His sobbing subsided but the realization that his bed was soaked dampened his slowly rising spirit. This was the fourth night in a week he’d wet the bed and no matter how much his mother loved and comforted her twelve year-old son, this couldn’t continue. Lying open on his bedside table was the culprit for the dream. Peter had been reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and had somehow got himself tangled up in the river and Huck’s troubles. It was strange how his own imagination had not only embellished the story but made it so real. The battle with the river, the hellish storm, the sheer terror he felt, meant he’d peed the bed, again. His mother drew back his bedclothes to see everything soaked; his PJs, briefs, blanket, sheet, pillow and mattress. The only thing that appeared to have escaped the deluge was his teddy, Franky, who must have ‘swum’ to safety fairly early on. His mom sighed at the amount of extra work that needed to be done before she could retire for the night herself but set about the chore in her usual, no nonsense manner. Stripping Peter in the bathroom she told him to take a shower whilst she cleaned up his room. Everything was thrown into the hamper and the single mattress flipped. Perhaps, oddly enough, she was prepared for this. Peter’s older brother Damian had also wet the bed when he was younger. In fact from the age of five until he was almost fifteen Damian had problems getting to the bathroom at night. Then suddenly, and for no apparent reason, it was dry night after dry night and the problem appeared to rectify itself. Despite there being almost eight years difference in the brother’s ages their mother had kept all the things she’d needed to make Damian comfortable and hoped now to do the same for Peter. Damian was away at university so there was only Peter and his mother at home, father having long fled the family home and abandoning his second but newly arrived son. Thankfully, Peter’s grandparents had rallied round and helped them through that difficult time and a godsend from a deceased uncle had meant that, financially at least, she was able to cope rearing her sons. Having such a long a gap between each child was quite a surprise (as was the fact of being pregnant with Peter) and the responsibility proved too huge a problem for her philandering husband who took it as a sign to make himself scarce, something he’d managed to do successfully for over twelve years. That abandonment had hardened Janice, Pete’s mother, and made her determined that she wouldn’t be reliant on a man again. She had immersed herself in her two son’s well-being and made sure that both were well looked after and wanted for nothing. As she coped with her new baby she was also coping with Damian who was also wetting the bed. Diapering one or both of them made no difference to Janice; she just got on with the job. Damian only needed his at night and soon settled into the regime and of course baby Peter needed his all the time. He was slow to potty train but she didn’t mind, all her efforts went into making sure her boys were the happiest and most contented kids around. Perhaps strangely, Peter was out of his diaper before Damian but the two boys got on reasonably well, considering their age difference, and diapers were never an issue. Once Damian was out of them she simply packed all the things away in the attic, not imagining that they just might be needed on a future occasion. * As her son showered she went up to the attic and retrieved the box with all the things she needed: The rubber sheet to cover the mattress, the selection of disposable and fabric diapers, plastic pants for added protection and the cartons of wipes, lotions and baby powder that she hoped would still have retained the smell that she’d loved so much. In fact, just handling all those things brought back happy memories for her from when her eldest son had relied on her. Now he was a grad student he was too independent to need her fussing. She was both proud and upset when Damian went off to University, proud of his achievements but sad he was growing up and would no doubt soon have a life on his own. Meanwhile, Peter was growing up far too quickly, he was nearly a teenager and she couldn’t understand how the time had suddenly shot by. However, here he was, her baby son (he’d always be the baby to her no matter how old he was) wetting himself, having nightmares and relying on his mommy to comfort and sort things out for him. She relished the opportunity to look after her baby’s needs. When he returned to his room from the shower Peter was greeted by his mom who had cleared away all the wet debris, put new sheets and blankets on his bed and had a further surprise for him. She told him to lie out on the bed, which, as he was naked, he was reluctant to do. She gently mocked him for being embarrassed around her. “You’ve got nothing I haven’t cleaned and powdered hundreds of times so there’s no point in being bashful now.” She smiled and patted the bed for him to come closer. He still seemed hesitant and the fact that she was holding a strange looking package made him a little nervous. “What’s that?” He nodded toward the item in her hand. “It’s a disposable diaper.” She fanned it open. “You’re not planning on putting me in that… are you?” He asked incredulously. “Only while you are having these nightmares and wetting the bed.” “But mom,” he tried to be brave but could already sense it was a done deal, “I won’t wet again, honest. I’m twelve… mom… I can’t wear a diaper.” “Yes, you are twelve and do twelve year olds wet the bed?” He couldn’t answer that simple question so stayed quiet. His mother pushed her advantage. “Do you think it’s fair all the extra washing that needs to be done, the mattress that’s almost ruined, your PJs that stink… do you think that’s OK?” He shuffled his 4 foot 8 inch body nervously still unable to bring himself to answer. “Come here then and let’s get you back to bed and then I can get some sleep myself.” She held out her hand and he unenthusiastically gave himself over to his mother’s tender ministrations. As she rechecked that he was totally dry in all his nooks and crannies, she spread the lotion and sprinkled baby powder, all the while knowing she needed to put his mind at rest. “I’m sure this will only be temporary and, it is only at night when there is only you and me here, so, no one else needs to know.” She smiled encouragingly as she pulled the diaper up between his legs and taped it into place. Peter wasn’t happy but had no choice. He knew that over the past couple of weeks he’d made so much extra work for her and in truth he felt a bit guilty about the whole bed-wetting business. He blamed Mark Twain for writing such a great book and vowed not to read any more, hoping that alone would put an end to his night time misfortunes. His mother was delighted to be able once again to baby her baby and took great pleasure in making sure every bit of his diaper area was swathed in protecting cream and powder and that the disposable fitted him perfectly. She wriggled a pair of cream coloured plastic pants in place, much to Peter’s disgust, but a resigned sigh was all he could muster and the action passed off with no further argument. She pulled a t-shirt over his head, his mop of still damp thick brown hair bursting through the head-hole like a surprised little flower; it made her smile. She then drew back the bed clothes. He was going to ask for his PJs but thought he might get too hot with another layer of clothing on top so yawning he just crawled into bed. His mother gave him a gentle pat on his padded tush, told him to budge up, lay herself down and gently cuddled her son. She whispered that she was just making sure he had no more bad dreams and lightly stroked his hair and wrapped her arm around his waist; the slickness of the plastic pants giving her a wonderful sensation and reviving happy memories of when he was an actual baby. *tbc*

Just a very short trip into my imagination. Pledge Diapers Part 1 The light was at red and said “DON’T WALK” and I waited patiently for the traffic to move away and the white “WALK” sign to appear to help get me across the road. As I hovered at the curbside on a fairly bright Saturday morning here in Los Angeles I noticed a plastic carrier bag in the middle of the crossing where I was about to walk. I could tell there was something in it as the handles fluttered around in the light morning breeze but the main part of the bag was weighted to the ground. “WALK” appeared and my curiosity grew as I ventured on my way. Bending slightly as I passed the package I caught hold of the flapping handles and, in one deft movement, scooped up the discarded piece of rubbish and carried it safely to the opposite kerb as if I was a garbage conscious member of the public. Once there I waited a few moments near to a trash can but pretended to be absorbed in something in a shop window acting as if distracted from depositing the bag in the bin. I also wanted to see if anyone would come up and claim the contents before I got rid of them. A few moments passed before I looked to see what the bag contained and was surprised to see a folded, but worn terry diaper. Although it was a particularly icky thing to find I noticed that it was rather large and far too big for a little baby. As I have more than a passing interest in all things ABDL, this to me was like finding a $50 bill; I couldn’t have been more excited at my discovery and good fortune. I looked around to see if anyone was watching but as usual, everyone just went about his or her business with little interest or regard for anyone else. I plunged my hand in the bag to see if there were any more items or perhaps an indication of whom the owner might be but my hand only met with the soft white fabric, which was damp and sticky to the touch. I was in ecstasy. A freshly used and abused diaper… mmmm… I just couldn’t wait to get them home. As I stood and fumbled with my soft but sticky prize I let my mind wander as to the possible owner. As I pulled it clear of the plastic bag… WHAM… like an electric bolt my head was suddenly assaulted with strong visions and eventually a clear picture formed in my minds eye. Instinctively, or perhaps via some form of cosmic energy, as my fingers fondled the cheap and messy fabric, the history of the diaper began to evolve to me. It was as if I was there, watching and making mental notes of the action. **tbc**

SnuggleBunny It was a sad occasion. My mother had recently died and I was clearing out her home. In the attic were several boxes of her mementos but one had my name on it. It contained all my clothes, photos, albums and a host of things from my childhood going back as far as to when I was a baby. In fact, pride of place, at the top of the pile was SnuggleBunny, my stuffed toy that went everywhere with me as a child. It was a very strange emotion. I may well be a twenty-seven year-old adult but I hadn’t seen, or thought about it… well him actually… for over 20 years. However, with him sitting in the box, all cute and furry, I just wanted to pick him up and have a huge hug. Placed next to him, almost as if he was holding it in one of his paws, was a photograph of me. I must have been about 2 years-old at the time as I was still dressed in just my diapers, with my one year-old sister Emily sitting on the floor – and I was holding ‘Snuggles’ by one of his long ears. I remember he never left my side. We did everything together, played, ate, slept… SnuggleBunny and me… we were inseparable. When I hugged him I could feel him hugging me right back, it was as if he was welcoming me to a time I’d left far too soon. We were very happy then when mommy and daddy… er… when… errrmm… whe… mommeeeee………. ***************** “Mommeeeee,” I cried because I was wet. I could feel the dampness in my diaper and I suspect it must have been like that for some time as it was all cold and … Hold on, this doesn’t seem right. I look down. Yes, I am wearing a diaper. A very soggy diaper and I’m guiltily chewing on Snuggles’ ear while I wait for mommy to come. Those ears are well soaked themselves with a couple of years of me sucking on them when I want to feel comforted and I… No, no, no. What’s going on? I can see I’m dressed like in the photograph but… ah… I must be dreaming. That’s it. I’ve just fallen asleep and I’m dreaming of my childhood. Phew, I thought I was going mad for a moment then but… Dadddeeee. “Come here my little wet Puppy,” He had his arms spread as wide as the smile on his face as I waddled over to him and let him wrap those strong arms around me. He pats my butt. “Mmm you are one wet little boy aren’t you? Let’s get you changed before you get a rash.” He effortlessly picks me up and of course Snuggles comes along too, we are rarely separated as he carries me into… my nursery? Hell, what is going on? How can I be so conscious of all this and yet… I’m a child, a toddler and my father has been dead since I was six. But, but, erm, it really is good to see him again. I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed him every day of every year since he died and now… he’s here if only in my dreams. I cry and hug tightly onto my father’s neck. I don’t want to let go. I have my daddy back. Oh God this is weird and wonderful all at the same time. In all those years I’ve never had an experience like this, where my father, my daddy, is so real and… He lays me down on the counter and slowly unpins my diaper. “Who’s a soggy little tyke?” He smiles and tickles my tummy and I giggle and laugh and wriggle as he pulls the damp material away. As he wipes and powders me dry he’s making noises to keep me amused; blowing raspberries and counting my toes while singing a little rhyme. I love my daddy. I love my mommy as well but she isn’t here. Oh no. As I lay wriggling on the counter I realise that both my parents are dead… yet here he is… my daddy, changing me like he used to do. “There you are champ.” He says as he pulls up a pair of plastic pants over my diaper. “Let’s find you some pants” and goes over to the closet and gets my favourite shorts with the animals all over them. Oh yes. I’d forgotten all about them. I wonder if mom kept them as well. They were nice. Daddy pulls them over my diaper, pats my padded bottom and sends me out to play. Snugglebunny is with me so we carry on playing the game we were in the middle of when I realised I was wet. Snugglebunny is smiling. I’m smiling. I’m so happy. It’s a lovely hot day outside. Emily is asleep in mommy’s arms as she sits lazing in the garden under the shade from a tree. Daddy is bringing out lemonade for us all and I rush over to join them on the blanket that has been set out. It’s covered in Em’s toys so I sit with Snuggles and happily play with her stuff while she sleeps, and while mommy and daddy chat quietly about their day. I shake my head. I know this is ideal but, I really need to wake up and get on with clearing out the attic. How can I think that when I’m busy playing. Snuggles thinks I’m being silly and I feel worried about… something… I’m not sure what… I’m twenty-seven not two, although I am two. I look around and the voices in my head are screaming ‘WAKE UP’ in my twenty-seven year-old voice but look at me… I’m sitting in a diaper and plastic pants, drinking my juice from a bottle and hugging a stuffed animal that is… Snugglebunny wants us to relax and enjoy the sunshine. Mommy is saying something to daddy about my diaper and that she should try and get me potty trained as soon as possible. I just play with Em’s toys and feel… happy. STOP IT, stop it. Stop it. You have work, you have a business to run, you have a wife to get home to… that voice in my head is getting insistent but I snuggle my bunny and all is well. The warm sun, mommy and daddy, Em asleep and my stretching out on the blanket feeling dry and comfortable… why would I want to change anything? ***** SnuggleBunny 2 I was dozing but it was getting warmer and more uncomfortable. I woke up and the sun was streaming through the little arched window in the attic and right into my eyes, it took me a few seconds to remember just where I was. Specks of dust flitted through the rays and appeared to dance, float and perform just for me, I searched around for my parents and my sister but alas, they were no longer with me. I was alone and back searching through mum’s carefully stored items from her life. Because of the memory (dream) I’d just experienced my heart was sad. I’d been united with my family at a time when we were at our happiest and I was sorry to leave it behind. I really did have work to do and I had a wife of my own now. I shrugged my shoulders to myself, things hadn’t been going very well in that area, she wasn’t interested in me anymore and in truth, I couldn’t blame her, I was not the man she married. That fun, carefree spirit she loved had disappeared under the weight of responsibility, not just for her but the firm that I’d built up to support us. I looked back across the attic to the boxes that held a lifetime of memories and was drawn once again to SnuggleBunny. I smiled as I remembered just what this old, stuffed animal had done for me. When I held him, he cheered me up - when I sucked on his ear, he pacified me – when we slept together, he reassured me that the world was safe. I picked him up… **** “OK my little trooper…” it was daddy lifting me onto his shoulders, “hold on tight.” And he galloped with me riding high around the garden. I was giggling and enjoying myself as he ‘jumped’ imaginary hurdles and made noises of horse’s hooves and whinnying. In the background I could hear Emily playing with her favourite toy… a teddy that squeaked. She was sat in the shade and like me, wore only a diaper, it was far too hot to be covered in clothes. Mommy turned on the garden sprinkler and I went off to play in that, jumping in and out of its gentle wafting flow. At certain angles daddy showed me what a rainbow was and I was engrossed in trying to reach and touch it. SnuggleBunny joined me as I skipped over the spray getting a cooling soak but by the time I had grown tired of this little game my diaper was hanging down to my knees. “Oh-Oh,” Mommy said, “we should have taken him out of that first and let him run around naked… oh well, too late now but I think he needs to get out of that sagging thing.” At the back of my mind I knew there was something really important I should be doing… but for the life of me I couldn’t remember what. Something to do with… no… can’t remember. Daddy dried me as I dried Snuggles and pretty soon I was back in a fresh clean diaper that daddy packed me into and pinned tightly to my small frame. That’s it. I’m supposed to be… erm… packing… something to do with… erm… diapers? No… packing… I’m not sure… I made Snuggles a diaper out of a piece of cloth that I’d found next to Em, I suppose she’d been playing around with it at some point but now she was crawling around as mum pulled one of her toys on a string. Mummy found a pin and made sure that Snuggles was as tightly in his diaper as I was. I hugged Snuggles as I followed daddy whilst he did a spot of gardening and telling me the names of the plants, which I thought I already knew. He pointed to a little bush and told me that it had been planted when I was born and that when I was older it would flower and remind me that mommy and daddy and Emily all loved me. He patted my padded bottom and told me how much he loved me now and he always would… Older… that was it… older. I am older. I can’t be here. I’m not a child. I’m not a baby… I’m not… Daddy ruffled my hair, then bent down and pretended to ruffle Snuggles’s hair… although he didn’t have any. “OK sport, time to plant a bush for Emily. Do you want to help?” I nodded and held up Snuggles hoping that this indicated that he’d help as well. “Let’s dig a little hole.” He passed me a small implement and I began to prod the ground in an attempt to make a hole. Dad was very encouraging and… What am I doing? I can’t stay here… I have things to do (although it was becoming less and less clear as to what exactly that might be) I need to be… er… going… coming… digging…? I was sat back on the blanket under the tree throwing Snuggles up into the air and catching him. His expression said he was enjoying this game immensely… and so was I. In fact, I was so happy and comfortable I never wanted to leave the garden. Mommy and daddy seemed so happy, Em was gurgling and smiling so I suppose she was happy and… if I had my way… we would always stay this way. I crawled between daddy’s legs and settled on his lap. “You OK champ?” he said as he blew raspberries against my bellybutton. I squealed with delight until he cuddled me as tightly as I cuddled Snuggles... I never wanted this to end. ******************************************************************************

This is last idea role-play my other two didn't