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Aldi's is selling these for cheap... https://www.aldi.us/en/weekly-specials/aldi-finds-for-may-2/may-2-detail/ps/p/serra-ladies-sleep-shirt-1/

Boomer generation diaper lover and sissy interested in meeting similar friends for chat and playdates in the San Diego area (Rancho Bernardo area).

Alex struggled helplessly in his binds. Stuck in a diaper and dress, gagged with an oversized pacifier, and with a bright red ribbon wrapped around, he could do nothing but wait. He supposed that was what he was a Christmas present for someone. The only question was for whom. It was a question that had haunted him since the day he arrived at the training institute. Like everyone, he knew there was someone paying for him. Like most, he had no idea who they were, when he

Part 1. “You go first,” Caroline smiled. “Remember, I want complete honesty.” My very attractive, 24 year old, black-haired date smiled and folded her arms across her large chest, enjoying my embarrassment. This was new to me, Truth or Dare on a first date. I remained silent while the waiter cleared the plates from the table. I felt my heart beating in my chest but decided to take the plunge. After all, my Match.com dates never result in a repeat meeting and I knew I wouldn’t see Caroline again. “I used to wet the bed and my mother would beat me for it.” Caroline’s eyebrows rose. “How old were you?” She asked. I thought she would be shocked, even appalled but nothing showed on her face. “What do you mean?” “When was the last time she beat you?” Her tone filled with impatience. “When I was seventeen.” My reply hung in the air. Across the table, Caroline kept her face impassive while she absorbed this news. I knew the next question was coming. “Do you still wet the bed?” Burning red but managing a smile, I waved a finger. “Ah.. No, it’s your turn now.” Caroline smiled and drummed her fingers on the table cloth. “When I was eight, I was sexually abused by my father and when I was thirteen, I was raped by him.” I sat there shocked and stared at her. There was no emotion or shame in her voice. My first instinct was that she was telling a joke in extremely bad taste. But how could anyone lie about such a thing? “That’s dreadful!” I muttered, finding it hard to hold eye contact with her. “How long did it go on for?” Caroline remained silent for a few seconds before smiling and picking up the desert menu. “Ok, game over. I really fancy some Crème Brulee, don’t you?” ----*---- Two weeks later she took me by surprise while I was preparing my evening meal. Neither of us had committed to another date and a handshake had finished the first date. However, she had asked me for my address on the pretext of sending me an invite to some party she was having in the future. I had offered email, but she waved that off, saying she found a real letter far more personal and acceptable. My apartment in West London has 24 hour concierge service, and the doorman would never let anyone up if I had not been contacted first. When the doorbell rang, I naturally thought it was a neighbour, after a cup of sugar or a helping hand. It took a second to recognise her after opening the door. “Caroline!” I exclaimed. “What a surprise!” Nervously, I wiped my hands on my apron and an awkward silence fell between us. “Well, aren’t you going to invite me in?” She finally asked, a smile lighting up her face. I took her through to the kitchen and poured her a glass of wine while I finished off the meal. There was enough for two. After I had served up the lamb curry and rice on the table she appeared. I had that feeling that she hadn’t actually been solely in the bathroom. After a few pleasantries over the delicious meal, she rested her knife and fork and looked up at me. “Truth or Dare. We never did finish it, did we?” Caroline raised her eyebrows in question. “It’s my turn to ask the question?” The food was feeling heavy in my stomach and I had a sinking feeling. I nodded in acquiesce. “So, I will repeat, do you still wet the bed?” There was no sympathetic smile or gentle tone. Something deep inside me compelled a truthful answer as I had nothing to lose. “Yes.” Caroline didn’t appear surprised. “And what about your mother, do you still see her?” I nodded. “She lives in Devon, but comes to stay occasionally. And of course, I go down there on a regular basis.” Caroline looked puzzled. “But the abuse you suffered. Surely you would have ostracized her?” I went pale and looked down at my plate. “She is a powerful woman,” I mumbled. “But also she is the trustee of my inheritance.” Understanding showed in Caroline’s eyes. “Ah, she controls the purse strings; a powerful force indeed.” I got up to clear the table but she smacked my hand away from her plate. “Sit down Peter, they can wait. We still have plenty to talk about.” She produced a packet of cigarettes and lighter and lit one up. I hated smoking and stared at her. “Hope you don’t mind.” I didn’t feel it was a question. “No,” I mumbled. Something compelled me to surrender. Normally I would have objected strongly. “Now,” she said, flicking ash onto her dinner plate. “Tell me the truth about the current relationship you have with your mother.” “What do you mean?” For the first time, Caroline raised her voice slightly. “I don’t like lying. And lying is telling a lie and not telling the truth, the whole story. Peter, stop lying to me will you? You are 34 years old and you have told me that she stopped beating you for wetting the bed when you were seventeen. So how do both of you handle the bed wetting now?” I was stunned. My heart was hammering in my chest and I felt my eyes water over. I stood. “I will show you.” Caroline followed me into the bathroom where I opened one of the wall cabinets. She was greeted by the sight of neat rows of disposable nappies and folded plastic pants, along with Johnson’s baby powder and zinc oxide cream. I felt weak and sat on the bath rim. If she wanted the truth, well, she was going to get the truth. “It was on my seventeenth birthday that I was woken by my mother who was holding a cup of tea in one hand and a wooden paddle in the other. Then the bed clothes would be pulled back for the normal bed inspection. She didn’t really have to inspect the bed. I was wet every morning but the inspection was just there to shame me. After breakfast, we got in a taxi and went to a clinic in Harley Street where they specialized in incontinence and since that day I have worn nappies every night to protect the bed.” Caroline looked at me. “Why the tears?” I was crying. Feeling so vulnerable and helpless. So humiliated after admitting my shameful secret. “Are you missing your Mummy?” Caroline was smiling now. Was she mocking me? Back at the dinner table, she lit another cigarette and waved at the opposite chair for me to sit. I obeyed. “Remember,” she waved a finger at me. “No lying now. We are still playing Truth or Dare.” Well, one of us was, I suppose. I nodded in agreement. Why did you join Match.com?” “I wanted a partner, maybe a wife,” I blurted out, perhaps a little bit too fast. I jumped as Caroline slapped her hand on the table. “What have I said about lying?” Again, that raised voice. She tapped her neck with one hand. “I have had it with men lying. Peter, you are not allowed to lie to me.” I was frightened and somewhat confused and didn’t reply. Caroline eased up and took a deep drag of the cigarette. “Alright,” she said softly. “I will make it easy for you. Are you looking for a partner or a mummy? Tell the truth now?” ----*----

Hi all, I'm from London, 54, committed sissy, love dressing in terry nappies, plastic panties and satin panties and satin LG dresses. Have a supportive wife and she would love to talk to other partners in a similar position. Love to chat with others sissy abs like me to make friends and help each other with our experiences and problems. alice xxx

I've probably had an account on here before, but I definitely don't remember my login. I'm a 27 year old gay diaper boy in the city of Los Angeles. I've been around the ABDL community since about 2005, and started meeting alot of ABDL's in person in 2007. I wear more often than not, I tell people I'm 23/6 instead of 24/7, as I don't put requirements on myself to wear all the time. I have several different headspaces I can find myself in; mostly a 3-4yo toddler who isn't taking to the potty training or giving up his pacifier thing too well. But I can also be a naughty teenage boy who's horny as hell, a diapered puppy, a baby fur, or a sissyboy. Though most often, I'm just a 27 year old wearing diapers while going about life.