My story how I became a DL

[Stephen dl]

I was 17 when I became a nappy lover it all started when I went to bed for the night before I went to sleep out of nowhere I got this strong feeling what it would be like to wear a nappy again I thought I was being crazy and just then put it out of my mind the next night it happened again I tryed to fight this feeling after a few weeks I gave in I went on ebay and bought 2 samples of tena super nappies the old type ones when they came in the post I couldn't wait for bed time when it was time to go to bed I put my first tena nappy on it felt so good but at the same I felt a bit weird for liking it but it didn't stop me after sleeping in my first nappy I enjoyed it that much am still wearing a nappy to bed right up to this day.I felt alone for years thinking it was just me that liked wearing nappies again at the age of 23 I was on youtube watching documentaries and I came across a girl who lives her life like a baby she was talking about her life and what AB/DL is thats the first time I knew about AB/DL after researching online I came across a site called tumblr it is male and females that wears nappies and enjoy it putting up photos of themselves having fun. I knew then I wasn't the only one who likes wearing nappies again from there on I was more comfortable with myself last week I took the next step of joining a AB/DL forum all of yous on this site welcome me with open arms and thank you for being good to me? well thats my story how I became a DL.

Feel free to post your own story how it all started for you.

[Little Sherri]

That's an interesting origin story, @Stephen dl. My own story is long, but the heavily abridged version is that I grew up wearing diapers to bed, because I was an accomplished and profligate bedwetter, back in the 1980's when pullups didn't exist. I wore them at night until I was about 10, but I knew long before that, that I had a fairly keen interest in diapers - I had a neighbour when I was maybe 4 - 7 years old, a girl around my age who wore diapers, and I was absolutely fascinated with her - you could call her my first crush. As I got older, I wrestled with conflicting feelings of enjoying wearing diapers, while at the same time, living in morbid terror of anyone ever finding out about it. I finally outgrew needing them, but I recognized quickly that once my parents stopped buying them, there was a void in my psyche that needed to be filled, and within about a year or 18 months, I started making my own diapers out of pillow cases and plastic bags, and secretly wearing them to bed, for the most part, although I did go for a late night walk in them on a couple of occasions (which was, in retrospect, a really dumb thing for a 12-year-old to do), and, I did wear one to school a couple of times as well, but never got caught - I THOUGHT - until years later when a guy from my class asked me on Facebook if I wore diapers back then. (I just denied it).

However, that all came to a crashing halt at around age 13, when my step-father found one of the homemade diapers I had hidden under my dresser, and yelled and waved it around in front of my whole family. The humiliation of that moment caused me not to think about putting another diaper on again until something like 20 years later, when I was looking through one of my mom's photo albums, and I found a picture of myself in a diaper at Christmas when I was maybe 7 or 8, and it all came flooding back, if you'll pardon the pun. I bought some pullups, and wore them here and there, mostly to bed, and then I built up the courage to buy a package of actual adult diapers, but all that time, I still had no idea that there was a community of people like me, and an industry that served them - I had never thought to google it. 

Somehow or other I came across the term ABDL, and when I looked into it, my mind was blown. From there, I found this place, and started reading about other people's origins and struggles, "met" some really good people, and eventually embarked on my now-20-month journey into wearing diapers 24/7. 

[Stephen dl]

Little sherri thank you for sharing your story am sorry to hear some of the things you had to go through.

[AbabeBill]

Hi and welcome to DD Stephen. Nice to meet you! Please make yourself at home, there’s lots of good likeminded people here. Relax, have fun, and enjoy!

[oznl]

Welcome Stephen.  I did write my story once (in a series of chapters) but it's nearly a novel.  I'll cut and paste part 1 because it occurred to me, I'm not sure if I ever shared it on DD!  It's long.  Feel free not to read it ?

The history of my world - part 1

The first of four children, I was born into suburban Australia in the latter part of the 1960s. It was a nondescript childhood. It wasn’t always idyllic (whose is?) but it was a lot better than say, Maxim Gorky’s. To the best of my knowledge I wasn’t abused by priests, nailed to trees, killed by drunken parents or passed around for custody between reluctant and distant relatives whilst pining alone for somebody to remember my birthday.

So why did I wind up with a nappy fetish? Let’s face it, if fetishes could be selected ‘a la carte’ there probably wouldn’t BE a nappy fetish – nobody would choose it. It ticks all the wrong boxes: it’s inconvenient, it smells, it flies in the face of strong socially conditioned taboo responses to human waste, if your interest involves more than just peeing in it, it’s arguably bio-hazardous, a clueless-but-statistically-significant slice of the general population will conclude you are a paedophile, and lynch you on the basis of a flawed assumption and finally, you will be mocked by society for your nihilistic repudiation of adulthood. Ok, maybe the last point was going over the top but you get the picture.

Oh for a simple, honest fetish for fishnet stockings.

I didn’t choose my nappy fetish: it chose me. In the manner of fetishes, it chose deeply and permanently, condemning me at once to a life tinged with shameful secrets, conditional intimacy and strange hidden things at the back of the wardrobe. How did this happen? I don’t know. I’m writing down all that I can remember about it in the hope that others might see clues or patterns and answer the question for me.

I’ve only a few, dim and brief memories of the times when I was an infant in nappies and even then, I can’t recall the nappies themselves at all. All I can remember are places and situations where subsequent photographs show me clearly wearing them. Sitting on the front porch early on a hot Christmas morning with a shiny new present in just a singlet and a suspiciously damp looking night nappy, exploring the outer edges of cloth nappy absorbency by playing with a garden hose while wearing one, waddling across a car park at a mineral water spring, rugged up against winter cold in ludicrously puffed-out pants. I know those memories are real and not just me remembering the photographs as I can recall extra information not revealed in the fading Kodak prints: what was said to me or what I was thinking . I remember being anxious for my father to finish taking the picture so I could get back to my new Christmas toy. I remember the hose dribbling anaemically and wanting to use it to help my father wash the car parked next to me. I remember how I disliked the alkaline-bitter taste of the mineral water until my father smothered it with vast quantities of sugary cordial. Of the nappies themselves however, I recall nothing: I suppose they were to me as air and gravity, a circumstantial fact of existence made mundane through the absence of any experienced alternative.

In any case, my first affair with nappies didn’t last long. The fashion of the day, the imminent arrival of my first baby sister and my mother’s unerring pursuit of convenience saw my toilet training arrive swiftly and early: she proudly told me that she had me out of nappies well before my 2nd birthday at around 20 months of age and nappy free at night by 2 and a half. I can recall neither the toilet training itself nor any opinion I had about it. I only remember wetting the bed once. I must have been heading towards three. Even then, my recollection is limited to pushing back the bedcovers one morning to discover that my pyjama pants were inexplicably wet. It could have been Martians or localised rainfall that had caused it for all I knew - except for the faint smell of pee. From a sensual perspective, I recall being neither comfortable nor uncomfortable – just a bit wet where I shouldn't be. As I damply padded down the hallway to greet mother with news of my misdeed, my primary concern was that I would get into trouble. I did not, suffering nothing more than her air of sanguine resignation as she gave me a quick wipe with one of the drier bits of my removed pyjama pants before finding a pair of my underpants that were conveniently in her bedroom.

In the dim, fragmented nature of infant memory, chronology and context are lost at first with only isolate images floating like flotsam in a dark pre-cognisant sea of oblivion. Soon however, the habit of remembering forms enough so that increasingly common memories knit together as recollection. As such, I cannot precisely recall the precise occasion of the birth of my first sister before my second birthday but my memories begin to feature her and I recall the loss of maternal attention with her arrival.

The very first glimmer of what was to come had to have been around the same age. It was shortly before bedtime and I was kneeling on my bed playing with my metal toy police car. I was wearing a knitted jumper and tartan long pants – I remember it being cold which makes two and half around the right age as it would have been winter. I knew that soon I’d be put into my pyjamas and on to bed by mother. I needed to pee. On the spur of the moment I decided I wanted to do that pee in my pants as it would be warm and “nice” even though I knew it was unlikely to be approved behaviour. Slowly, I released and was duly rewarded with a spreading warm sensation in my crotch. There can’t have been much pee as the bed and even most of my thighs remained dry as I knelt there with little more than a wet willy. Utterly devoid of any strategy to manage my inevitable detection, I continued to play with my car in my rapidly cooling pants until the inevitable call from my mother to come down to her bedroom to get ready for bed.

The only thing surprising about my mother’s discovery of my damp condition was that she didn’t notice until she started taking off my pants as I stood beside her bed - such are the camouflaging effects of dark tartan and dim winter evenings. “Tell your father what you’ve done” she admonished, mildly, gesturing towards my father who was reading, lying on the bed beside her. Father did nothing more than briefly look over the top of his book, giving me a mock frown that neither of us took seriously. Mother clucked, gave my crotch a cursory wipe with the dry part of my pants before putting on my pyjamas which were inexplicably in her bedroom next to her and escorting me to bed. The aspect of this memory that seems important to me now is that I’d chosen to wet myself deliberately and had done so in order to enjoy the sensation of being warm and wet.

At the age of 5 or so, my sister (by then 3) and I would commonly be banished by mother to play outside during long summer days. Alone in the backyard for hours at a time, we would alternately swim unsupervised in our small, aboveground pool , play in the sandpit, gagging on the sand-cakes we’d ‘cooked’ together or whine at the laundry door to be let back inside, all the time developing our first melanomas in the harsh Australian summer sun. On swimming days, when we needed to pee, we just did it in our swimsuits, pretending to be babies. Again, that warm, wet naughty feeling made this attractive to me. “I’ll tell on you” my sister said watching yellow rivulets of pee course down my legs. “Then I’ll tell on YOU” I’d reply as she stood in front of me with a dripping crotch and accusing puddle in the sand between her own feet. Bonded by such mutually assured detection, another quick dip in the pool would wash away evidence of our crime and the long lazy days before child safety had been thought of.

I was a good boy but my new sister was a difficult child and a champion and inveterate bedwetter. Her second birthday came and went with no sign of the urinary compliance my mother had had with me. As age four and kindergarten loomed, my mother decided that keeping her in night nappies wasn’t helping and so withdrew them. There then ensued occasional dry nights but more commonly, acrimonious exchanges about wet beds.

Eventually, after a particularly sustained run of soaking wet beds and the advent of mildew on the mattress, my father stepped in and announced to my sister that she would be returning to nappies that very night. Predictably enough for her, a spectacular tantrum ensued. I honest can’t recall how they pinned them on her as she lay on the floor thrashing and screaming like one possessed but within minutes, from my vantage point on the couch, I watched her laying defeated, still and sobbing on the floor, dressed in her red patterned flannel pyjamas, the pants of which were fairly obviously stretched over three thick flannel nappies folded and pinned under opaque plastic pants, the elastic for which could be seen peeking above the top of her pyjama pants. I remember wishing it was me.

Thus attired, she was put to bed.

Of course putting a bedwetting child back into nappies manages a symptom at the price of curing a problem. Now nearly every night, at some time during the small hours, I would now be woken by my sister in the next room calling out to my parents that she wanted to go to the toilet. I didn’t quite understand how she could at once be an involuntary bed wetter but whilst in a nappy, reliably wake up and bellow for an escort to the bathroom but there you have it. Two, three or four times she would shout out “Mummy!!! I need to go to the TOILET!!!” until somebody other than me woke up. At this point, invariably, a muffled shout would come back from my parent’s master bedroom “JUST DO IT IN YOUR NAPPY!” Even then (I must have been 6) I wondered how repeatedly instructing her to pee herself in comfort, half-awake under the covers would assist in clearing bedwetting. Upon receipt of this parental order, my sister would immediately fall silent and I would imagine her lying tucked up warm in bed in the next room, comfortably and sleepily wetting her nappies and I wished it was me.

There was little else of her that I envied. She was dislikeable in many ways. She fought, argued, vandalised, stole, shat and pissed her way through her early childhood. My parents responded in their various ways to these challenges. Ways that now might be considered abusive or violent but of their time, were probably not far removed from behavioural norms. I remained the ‘good’ boy but was always wary of my father’s explosive fury and my mother’s disturbingly equal capacity for sweetness or childish venom.

We were nervous, mistrustful and insecure children. I suspect my father didn’t want children and my mother struggled with the isolated reality of stay-at-home, suburban motherhood. They fought frequently and the troubles caused by my new sister did not help. One of mother’s more outlandish strategies for curbing bad behaviour was the threat of boarding school. Like any threat, it required periodic renovation to maintain currency and my mother was forced to progressively construct evermore elaborate stories about it. Tales of privation: undernourishment, punishment, the expunging of birthday’s and christmas’s became evermore Dickensian. Pictures were produced of austere, Victorian buildings and we were told that this was ‘the school’. On one occasion, even a feux-telephone call was made to this ‘boarding school’ after a moment of defiance in which my 5 year old sister told mother to go ahead and send her there. With the ear-piece to her ear and pretending to dial the number, mother taunted her with how she would not be able to join the family at dinners with her grandma anymore. This loss of grand maternal affection and associated unlimited chocolate biscuits was too much even for my stubborn sister to withstand. She collapsed into tears and the brief, kindergarten offensive was over. It was all cartoon-like in its silliness but when you are small, monsters do indeed live under the bed and I trembled at the vision of being sent from home to a cruel and hostile place.

Despite her obvious coping difficulties, mother wanted a large family and so two more siblings appeared in rapid succession and by the time I had turned 9, we were a family of four children. In contrast to my own military toilet training, siblings 3 and 4 built upon and extended the protracted dampness of my first sister. From age 6 until 14, our house was awash with cloth nappies and plastic pants drying on clothes horses and our reluctantly-shared bedrooms smelt vaguely and permanently of pee whilst my two youngest siblings enjoyed long, wet and overlapping nappy-clad eras. Both were also persistent bedwetters which my mother, now presumably beaten, dealt with by the more practical mechanism of keeping them in cloth night nappies in which they remained until 7 or 8 years of age.

Each morning, they would get up and make their way into the laundry whereupon they’d just slide their now-wet nappies and plastic pants down their legs as a single garment before stepping out of them, dumping them on the laundry floor for the washing fairy to collect. Pulling their pyjamas back up over their still pee-damp crotches, they’d then present for breakfast. I, myself, as the oldest and best-behaved of the family understood my duty as a silent beacon of moral rectitude.

Interestingly, I knew for a fact that BOTH my youngest two siblings would deliberately wet their nappies before bed. My mother, always interested in convenience, would get them into their pyjamas and nappies quite some time before bedtime (always after first sending them to the toilet). Accordingly, they’d commonly spend an hour or so watching TV or cavorting about in them. Persistent nappy use coupled with the recycling of pyjama pants before washing meant that they usually smelled of pee regardless but I could still tell. I remember my youngest sister clambering out of her bean bag in front of the television revealing twin damp crescents on the back of her thighs – presumably through letting rip at a slightly awkward angle whilst reclining. On another occasion whilst horsing around before bed, my young sister succeeded in stuffing a handful of lego down the front of my youngest sister’s night nappy (no, I don’t know why). After a stunned, frozen second with her hand implausibly shoved down the crotch of her sister's nappy, she withdrew it and held it before her, as though it were bathed in acid. “EWWWW!!! You’re WET and now it’s on my HAND!!!” she shrieked as my youngest sister stood before her in soggy, mute terror of mother over-hearing (she did not).

My mother DID catch one of them once. Somehow she found my youngest brother frolicking about our playroom in wet nappies minutes after she put them on him (he would have been about 6). I have no idea what led her to check but on discovering him wet, she flew into a rage and shouted at him for being “lazy”. Private hilarity ensued amongst older siblings as she tried her hardest to smack him to tears only to have the thick, warm, and by now presumably wet padding of his nappy render her efforts at best comedic. I can’t recall her changing him before bed so I suspect he achieved his objective of prolonged marination regardless.

On another winter evening, I remember my mother getting my little brother ready for bed. She’d bade him get undressed in front of the heater in the living room. As she organised pins, powder and plastic pants, he had removed his pants and underwear and lain down, positioning his naked bum carefully on the centre of the soft, kite-folded nappy she’d spread before him in readiness. As she turned back towards him to pull the nappy up between his legs and pin it she was greeted by his tiny willy, fully erect and proudly pointing northwards as if saluting mother on the occasion of its imminent, flannel entombment. “Hmm” said mother. “Your willy is stiff – are you sure you don’t need to go to the toilet?” Sitting on the couch nearby I thought to myself “Aha! I wondered what THAT meant!” I’d always been a little confused about periodic, seemingly random erections and had no idea about sex. My brother denied any need of the toilet and so my mother shrugged, and somewhat awkwardly pinned his nappy up over his tumescent manhood. Suitably clad in plastic pants and pyjamas, my brother sprang up and scampered off, presumably to quietly wee himself.

By now, the earliest stirrings of puberty had begun and with it, my strange fascination for wetting myself had returned along with a new friend, soiling myself. An ancient pair of underpants rescued from the rag bag could be cautiously peed in whilst sitting on the toilet. If suitably lined with toilet paper, they could safely be pooped in at the same venue although clean-up was slow, imperfect and risked interruption from siblings or parents who may also wish to use our house’s single shared bathroom in a more conventional fashion. The experience was ok enough for me to repeatedly do it but somehow not quite on target (not that I knew for certain what ‘target’ was). It was briefly warm and wet, but messy and cold soon enough. Between use, and after some fairly ineffectual rinsing, these underpants mildewed malodorously at the bottom of a box in my wardrobe.

An old, torn pair of jeans, discarded for my father’s rag bag could also be retrieved and worn in conjunction with the aforementioned sacrificial underpants. This allowed me the interesting experience of urinating and defecating whilst fully clothed. By a dint of restricted view from windows and a garden shed, this could be cautiously done outdoors allowing me to remain wet and messy for more than a few seconds although clean-up and changing back into ‘standard’ clothing still posed significant logistical challenges.

I looked longingly at the nappy-clad siblings around me.

During my 11th or 12th year, my little brother was starting to have the odd dry night. He would still instinctively waddle to the laundry first thing upon arising, peel off his nappy and dump it on the laundry floor, seemingly oblivious to whether it was wet or not. It was my mother who worked out that the nappy she was unpinning to wash could in fact go another round and there was much celebration. It was an unreliable kind of dry and there was no immediate prospect of abandoning the nappies but it did mean that with increasing frequency, the morning the discarded “nappy pants” on the laundry floor were in fact clean and dry. So it was, one fateful morning, that I slipped discretely out to the laundry and retrieved a perfectly dry set of nappies already folded and pinned inside plastic pants, like a thick pair of waterproof underpants ready to wear and quietly retreated to the unreliable privacy of our toilet as my parents slept on and my siblings sat in front of the television, zombie-fied by cartoons.

Forcing them on to my body was the first ordeal. Stripping off my jeans and underpants inside the toilet, I carefully placed first one foot, then the other through the nappies and out the plastic panty leg holes, then cautiously began to slide them up my legs. As they got past my knees, the fit got tighter and tighter and I resorted to working them up slowly, rocking them from side to side. Folded and pinned for a 6 year old, my larger 11 year old legs were going to be a stretch metaphorically and literally. As I inched them higher and higher, I could feel the pins straining against the taught cloth and the leggings on the plastic pants tightened and began to scream stretched protest into my skin. A small ripping noise from deep within the plastic pants threatened catastrophic failure and for a heart-stopping moment, I paused to consider abandonment. Repositioning my fingers to better support the taut-to-tearing flannel underneath the plastic panty leggings, I gingerly wriggled it up some more when suddenly, as though having crested some kind of anatomical summit, the nappy slipped up all the way into place and like falling into some kind of warm nest, I felt my crotch, hips and bum instantly enveloped by a soft, comforting bulk.

Slightly stunned by relief and comfort, I cautiously felt around to discover that both plastic pants and nappies had survived. It felt great. Carefully, I turned around to admire myself in the mirror. I looked exactly like I was wearing nappies! Below my t-shirt my midriff was a featureless bulge of cloth nappy pinned under milky, pale blue plastic pants. I ran my hands gently over them feeling the pressure against my padded hips. Ineffable and new electric pre-pubescent sensations coursed through my genitals. It felt great but there was not a moment to lose. At any second, somebody could be banging on the bathroom door demanding entry and all could be lost.

I’m one of the lucky few who never had any difficulty in choosing to urinate in any place in any position and today was no exception. Gazing down at my nappy-clad crotch I relaxed and within a few seconds, my urinary sphincter did the rest.

With the brilliant shock of that hot, salt coin appearing at the tip of my penis, I involuntarily clamped off the flow instantly. A second or two later, I resumed command and with heart beating fast, I released again - properly. Oh sweet nappy! Oh noble garment, WHAT a brilliant feeling. A burst of painless, gorgeous, wet heat at my genitals swiftly dissipated to a creeping, erotic warmth that at once began to spread across my crotch and up to toward my hips. A tell-tale hot trickle here and there deep between my legs and the faintest whiff of warm pee gave clue to the liquid nature of this radiance. I stared down at my crotch in amazement as it remained outwardly clean and dry, giving lie to the warm bath of pee I was getting inside them. As my new friend grew warm and heavy around me, it was like a hug that said “welcome home”.

I was hooked.

 

 

[Stephen dl]

Thanks oznl for sharing you put alot of time and effort into your story very interesting read ?

[Evelyn Dellcerro]

We are all here for our love of diapers. Welcome @Stephen dland I do hope your stay is pleasant and that you make many friends. I am a total DL and diapers have been in my life since I was thirteen. Now over forty two years later nothing has changed. My love for diapers and my diaper loving wife has only grown more. Enjoy it here and come and chat in the chatroom where you will find a very diverse world of AB/DL and many people that didn't choose the life, instead the life chose them. Kisses and hugs and peace my friend.

[Stephen dl]

Thank you @Evelyn Dellcerrofor telling me about yourself. love peace and respect ?

[imadiaperbaby]

Onzi - that was insanely eloquent. It's a shame that the topic is so proscribed as to not have a much wider audience!

[oznl]

15 hours ago, imadiaperbaby said:

Onzi - that was insanely eloquent. It's a shame that the topic is so proscribed as to not have a much wider audience!

Thank you although looking at it now, there remains some fairly awkward grammar here and there.  It could use some minor editing. It was something of an overkill response to the OP request but I had it laying around and it was just cut and paste.  I'm not sure where to put stuff like that on DD.  It's languishing on my FL account.

Yep, it's too weird for prime-time though.

[willnotwill]

Mine is a confluence of separate incidents.   My mother always attributed it to her trying to toilet train me too early, though that's probably not related at all.

Event #1 was one day when I was probably three or four.    My sister who was just younger than me had been toilet trained.    One day they were short of panties for her and I remember mom just getting diaper for her instead.    I was mortified that you could go back into diapers after getting underpants.   It was just that once to my knowledge and it never happened to me.

Event #2 was our kindergarten.    They had a lot of issues with the toilets stopping up and I remember watching the water flow across the classroom when this happened.

Event #3 was during the preparation for the Christmas pageant.   Our teacher was doing a lot of work with the other grades, so she would leave a sixth grader in charge of the kindergarteners.   She was a real tyrant.   I remember being locked in a dark closet for the offense of not being able to pronounce her name.   It led me to develop all sorts of "punished at school" fantasies.   My sister would spin stories about such things too.

Event #4.   Remember this is the 1960s.    You didn't find disposable diapers for adults.     Leafing through the Sears catalog my sister and I found cloth adult diapers and thought the concept was hilarious.

Event #5.   I got into a couple of discipline incidents in middle school.    But other than just getting a stern talking to from the vice principal it really went no where.    It rekindled the punishment fantasies and I used to design such (keeping elaborate notebooks on things) and sort of acting them out at home.    Eventually, the idea of forcing students into diapers became part of it.

My parents used to go out a lot on the weekends.  I was now old enough to be left to "babysit" my younger siblings.    I used to make use of that time to fabricate diapers out of old towels and plastic bags.    I spent a lot of time looking at those Sears catalog pictures.   Then one day I was poking around a drug store looking for something else and found out they had the such things in stock there.    They weren't what I wanted (they were snap on plastic briefs with a crude liner down the center) but I got them.    By the time I got to college the first disposables showed up on the market and I'd spend a lot of time poking around medical supply stores and drugs stores looking for different brands.

The rest is pretty much history.   Around 1985 or so I got a CompuServe account and found they had a pretty active AB group there.   Tommy and Marky from DPF were regulars and I found out I wasn't the only one.     Then the internet came and things really took off.

[Stephen dl]

Thank you @willnotwill for sharing your story ?

On 12/16/2020 at 10:14 PM, Stephen dl said:

 

 

[Babyjohn90]

Hi  welcome I am also new to this group I was 12 when I started wearing Nappies similar to you I wondered what it be like to wear a nappy I have a younger brother at the time he not long come out of Nappies and there was a open pack in the cupboard and one day I took one and tired it on must been a big ish size as it fitted me good but I was a small 12 year, so when I put it on it felt so comfy and made Me feel at that time nothing else mattered I didn't go to the toilet at all hold my pee in and then went in the nappy when I couldn't hold it any longer wanted to feel like a baby who couldn't control when he wanted to go and wow it was amazing I ended using rest of the pack over few weeks don't think anyone noticed or never said anything anyway ever since been a diaper lover but once I ran out of nappies wasn't till I was 17 when I wore again ordered my self some drynites and they fitted so good too been wearing on and off since then now 30 and wear to bed every night. 

[Stephen dl]

Thanks @Babyjohn90for the welcome and for sharing your story?

[Transfusionelle]

This is one topic I really wish everyone here was mandated to answer, and to be truthful. Including incon and AB. Many people skip this important topic on their own profile, which is very sad in a way. Profiles help others know about each other and make getting to know each other so much easier. Playing guessing games and one million questions is not fair to many. I started wearing diapers because of my job. Being a bartender is not easy, but I love my job. We barely have time to think before we are serving someone else a drink, and if you do parties as I do, it is a lot harder on the bladder. taking breaks is not good because you lose tips this way. My first 3 nights working I asked 2 other bartenders their secret to staying on the floor so long without breaks. One pulled me to the side and whispered in my ear"diapers". So plain and so simple. The other merely lifted her skirt and showed me the cutest pair of pullups. In my head I was thinking "ewww", but the next night I was at Walgreens buying adult diapers. I am male but I dress as a female for my job and I can honestly say I don't like wearing mens clothes. As my diaper loving wife @Evelyn Dellcerrosaid to you "we have grown to love diapers and accept our way of life". Diapers may not be for everyone, but they are for me, and 23 years later I am still loving my diapers and loving them with my wife more and more. You were 17 and I was 20, so not much of a difference in age. Hey I don't knock AB and I have total empathy for those that must wear diapers. Diapers are a big responsibility @~Brian~ and burden for many to bare. I will keep loving my diapers and my diaper loving wife. I truly hope you are at peace with yourself and welcome to Daily Diapers and enjoy this site. I and my wife love it here and it is our second home.Peace to you and diapers rock !!

Edited January 6, 2021 by Transfusionelle
mispelled words

[amorfraldaJR]

On 12/21/2020 at 3:14 PM, Evelyn Dellcerro said:

We are all here for our love of diapers. Welcome @Stephen dland I do hope your stay is pleasant and that you make many friends. I am a total DL and diapers have been in my life since I was thirteen. Now over forty two years later nothing has changed. My love for diapers and my diaper loving wife has only grown more. Enjoy it here and come and chat in the chatroom where you will find a very diverse world of AB/DL and many people that didn't choose the life, instead the life chose them. Kisses and hugs and peace my friend.

Titi I love you so much !! You introduced me to diapers at the age of 14. I am very proud to say I was inducted into a loving family of diaper lovers ! My 2 loving aunts and uncle which I owe my life to. @Stephen dl my friend enjoy your stay here and please feel free to message me in any way you like. Being raised by a diaper loving family I can boast and say it is a life worth living. I introduced my boyfriend to diapers only 6 months ago and he now is a diaper lover and very dear to me. Be honest with yourself and love the life you have chosen. Welcome to Daily Diapers ! This place has opened my eyes and my mind to the trials and tribulations many here must face everyday. Peace my friend and enjoy !

1 hour ago, Transfusionelle said:

This is one topic I really wish everyone here was mandated to answer, and to be truthful. Including incon and AB. Many people skip this important topic on their own profile, which is very sad in a way. Profiles help others know about each other and make getting to know each other so much easier. Playing guessing games and one million questions is not fair to many. I started wearing diapers because of my job. Being a bartender is not easy, but I love my job. We barely have time to think before we are serving someone else a drink, and if you do parties as I do, it is a lot harder on the bladder. taking breaks is not good because you lose tips this way. My first 3 nights working I asked 2 other bartenders their secret to staying on the floor so long without breaks. One pulled me to the side and whispered in my ear"diapers". So plain and so simple. The other merely lifted her skirt and showed me the cutest pair of pullups. In my head I was thinking "ewww", but the next night I was at Walgreens buying adult diapers. I am male but I dress as a female for my job and I can honestly say I don't like wearing mens clothes. As my diaper loving wife @Evelyn Dellcerrosaid to you "we have grown to love diapers and accept our way of life". Diapers may not be for everyone, but they are for me, and 23 years later I am still loving my diapers and loving them with my wife more and more. You were 17 and I was 20, so not much of a difference in age. Hey I don't knock AB and I have total empathy for those that must wear diapers. Diapers are a big responsibility @~Brian~ and burden for many to bare. I will keep loving my diapers and my diaper loving wife. I truly hope you are at peace with yourself and welcome to Daily Diapers and enjoy this site. I and my wife love it here and it is our second home.Peace to you and diapers rock !!

Titi @TransfusionelleI can't leave you out of this. I love you so much. You introduced me to a world of beauty beyond belief. I learned about womens clothing and how to do many things.  My first make up lesson and so on.@Stephen dl You are in the loving hands of true diaper lovers. Hugs again and welcome !

[Little Sherri]

On 12/20/2020 at 11:57 PM, oznl said:

I was hooked.

 

All of these were fascinating to read. @oznl, yours was very eloquent. My experience, which I summarized herein earlier, was almost the opposite of Oznl's; he was the steadfastly continent eldest, watching his younger siblings endure, and/or enjoy, their protracted periods in nappies, whereas I was the elder sibling, watching my younger brother breeze through potty training and dispense with night diapers by the time he was three, with the attendant ticker-tape parades and glowing praise, after which, I, three years older, waited on the floor in front of our bunk beds, to be taped (usually, once in a blue moon it was pinned) into a diaper, sometimes punctuated by my older sister yelling "Mom, he's ready for his diaper!" down the hall. I never, so far as I recall, physically fought it, nor did I object for the most part, other than if I was being asked to wear one away from the house, or if we had guests. I was already wrestling with conflicting feelings of shame and embarrassment, overlaid on an enjoyment that, I knew, was something I should keep to myself. 

However, I had a similar epiphany to Oznl's, and at a similar age. I outgrew the practical need for diapers, right around the time when they stopped fitting me, even with the help of ancillary tape, but I was oblivious to the implications of my "success" until the last few diapers in the last box were gone, and that was it... no more diapers, and nobody in the house in diapers. I might have gone a year or 18 months before I was sifting through the linen closet one day, and I found a white pillow case, and thought, hmmm, this looks like a cloth diaper, and that called to the strange hole inside me, in a way that I could not put into words. Within a short time, I had fashioned my first homemade diaper out of that pillow case, towels, safety pins, and a white plastic shopping bag with holes cut into it. 

Whereas, as a kid, I knew that sometimes I laid in in bed, idly contemplating the warmth and the strange "glow" around my nether region, and sometimes on weekends, I might elect to stay in my nightwear, if I could get away with it, just because it felt "good", I still had no idea what it all meant. I was prepubescent and pre-sexual. But when I made myself that first diaper, now in the 6th grade, age maybe 11 1/2, that general contentedness I bathed in earlier began transforming into something more exciting. I was, as you said, hooked, but, although not yet condensed, those feelings in gaseous form had been my companion since I was very young.  

[Stephen dl]

Thanks @Transfusionellefor the welcome and sharing your story I wish you and your family all best of health and happiness.☺

 

[~Brian~]

5 hours ago, Transfusionelle said:

Diapers may not be for everyone, but they are for me, and 23 years later I am still loving my diapers and loving them with my wife more and more. You were 17 and I was 20, so not much of a difference in age. Hey I don't knock AB and I have total empathy for those that must wear diapers. Diapers are a big responsibility @~Brian~ and burden for many to bare. I will keep loving my diapers and my diaper loving wife. I truly hope you are at peace with yourself and welcome to Daily Diapers and enjoy this site. I and my wife love it here and it is our second home.Peace to you and diapers rock !!

@Transfusionelle

I understand that diapers are a big responsibility, and may be a burden to some, but in mine, yours and @Evelyn Dellcerro's cases, I believe i can say that we ALL accept our diapers and use them as we see fit.  I have accepted that I need and use them, and I am not afraid to state that I accept it - for me, I think it was something that I was thinking I would eventually have to accept as I age, and because of You, and Eve and others here, I am NOT afraid to state that I LOVE it - I am hooked, and I am GREATFUL I would NOT go back - Diapers DO Rock!!

Love You all!!

Long Live the KING - @DailyDi

Brian

 

[Stephen dl]

Thanks @amorfraldaJR for the welcome and kindness I wish you your 2 aunts and your boyfriend the best of health and happiness.☺