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Thread: One thing leads to another - Hi!

  1. #1

    Default One thing leads to another - Hi!

    I was eight, an occasional bed wetter, sleeping over a rubber sheet when I went to live with my aunt. Bed wetting started with the birth of my sister which makes me suspect I was somehow jealous. I didn't know it till later but my aunt had suggested mom put me back into diapers right after the bed wetting started but mom resisted. When I ended up staying with my aunt she brought it up again telling me I would go back into diapers the instant I wet the bed. Of course I woke wet that very next day.

    They had a small dairy farm and that morning, while my two girl cousins did chores, my aunt and I went through the attic searching for some of Sandy's things. Sandy, younger than her sister by two years and a year older than me was heavy since birth and my aunt was sure her toddler stuff, at least the diapers, would fit. We found the diapers, cloth, among a lot of girl clothes from that period although fortunately the plastic vinyl pants were white or very light gray - not too unlike Gerber. The diapers were pre-fold and when my aunt found the diaper pins she immediately had me strip from the waist down right there in the attic. The diapers fit as did most of the plastic vinyl pants.

    That pretty much locked me into cloth diapers and soft white generously sized baby pants. I remember the attic being extremely warm although it was near winter and laying on an old oval rub not far from the attic door. I lifted myself for the diaper and my aunt pinned me into it roughly (quickly) before having me stand for the baby pants. She had me slip my shoes back on (I'd left my socks on) and fold my jeans to carry down stairs with me. I always had a high threshold for physical pain and mental abuse and remember my aunt getting slightly miffed that I didn't scream my head off.

    I remember thinking later that she might have gone easier on me had I cried. As it is and since I didn't react my aunt kept adding more "things" to humiliate me with beginning with a pacifier, then milk in a baby bottle and finally some of Sandy's things that fit. All of this was spread over a dozen weeks at least, perhaps more and in between my aunt's attempts to embarrassment me out of wetting my bed I grew increasingly fond of what she made me wear and do.

    Sexual gratification came almost instantly (at least within that same day) when I was first diapered. Something about the way the diaper moved when I was pinned into it. I remember the sensation of soft silkiness between my legs created by the thickness of the diaper pushing the soft vinyl against the inside of my thighs. Not sure exactly the moment I became aware of that but by the time I sat for dinner (still diapered) I was finding ways to move about so the diaper rubbed against me. I had my first climax sitting in front of the TV and it was hands free.

    Over time, I played with my cousin Debbie (more of that later) and an older neighbor boy David (more on him later as well) which sealed the sexual nature and fetish formation of diapers and plastic pants. I am a diaper lover but often play in my baby girl or little girl clothes as well. There is a BSDM side to this fostered in part by those first few months under my aunt's rule that was later confirmed with a scattering of playmates and professionals. I've always considered myself fortunate to have dabbled in this life style simply because I believe life would most likely be very boring otherwise.

    Sissy 2 Baby

  2. #2


    I'm not saying your story of how you got into being a sissy/DL is fake, but I think I should let you know it sounds very... fictitious. Sorry I have to be so critical, but you really should get a reputation before posting something such as this. We have a system to verify yourself if you're interested in proving yourself too. I'm just letting you know 'cause, sadly, I think your thread is about to catch ALOT of flak. I wish we had a sticky warning of this.

    Found it!

  3. #3


    I hope that's not true because I found this place interesting in it's diversity and complexity and I hope fairness. Then again, trying to explain all that I've done to those only just capable of a beginning is an exercise I'd rather leave to those more competent than I. Although I will say that the one big advantage to a long life is that many things will fill it and trust me on this, live long enough and a great many things will ultimately fill it.

    "I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is trying to please everybody."
    Bill Cosby

    In any event, thank you for the time you took to say hello.


  4. #4


    Well, fictitious or not, it's well thought out and written, leading me to give you the benefit of the doubt. I would like to think this place is fair and diverse, but even that comes at the price of a heightened sense of suspicion of new people, not just you in general. The way in which we exclude ourselves kind of makes this place feel like the North Korea of the ABDL community. The isolation has gone on for too long.

    Nonetheless, welcome. Take everything with a grain of salt, don't get overly serious about things and definitely don't think anyone is attacking your person. We are just like that here.

  5. #5

    Default Hello again and a little bit more!

    That initial bio was meant to be short and sweet and perhaps more detail will help. This was the fifties and dad was in Korea fighting, leaving me, my new sister and mom alone. After a few times wetting the bed and very near the arrival of my sister a doctor told mom it was most likely sibling jealousy and something I'd outgrow. Right from the start mom was sympathetic and the only change came when she added a heavy rubber sheet to cover and protect the mattress.

    My sister was six months old when mom contracted TB (tuberculosis). In those days TB was curable but required a long term recovery along with isolation. I would find out later that they would actually collapse a lung before treating it with chemo. I remember mom collapsing at home and my sister and I staying with a neighbor shortly after an ambulance took mom away. I wouldn't see her again for months. My aunt arrived that following day from San Mateo (up in the foothills where the dairy farms were). We were living in San Diego at the time in Navel housing.

    We drove to my aunt's house a couple of days later after our things were packed and moved into storage. Debbie and Sandy doubled up and my sister and I got Sandy's room. My aunt had seen the heavy rubber sheet when she began packing my things to bring with us and she added that to Sandy's bed with the warning that I'd better learn to go to the bathroom and not wet my bed. I wasn't wetting every night and oddly enough didn't wet those couple of nights it took to get the house packed and stored away. I did wet that first night in Sandy's bed.

    I confessed to my aunt that morning as the house was waking up. Debbie and Sandy were already bundled up and heading out to do chores when I told my aunt. My aunt told me to shower and get dressed and I did finding her in the attic when I finished my shower. She asked me why mom hadn't put me back into diapers and I said I didn't know before watching in silence while she went through several boxes. She found the box with the diapers in it after opening a dozen or so. The plastic pants were in another along with the diaper pins in a plastic soap holder.

    As soon as she found the pins she had me strip right there in the attic and lay over a small rug on top of one of the diapers. She pinned me into the diaper and then had me try on the baby pants. I think there were several sizes (maybe just two) because some of those pants were very tight before I ended up in a fairly loose pair. She neatly folded my jeans and handed me those to carry while she carried a stack of diapers and plastic pants down the steps and into Sandy's room. My aunt told me to stay in the diaper and plastic pants to know what it was like to be a baby.

    Both girls were silent when they returned to the house for breakfast and after that initial remark my aunt mostly ignored me for the remainder of that Saturday. I didn't have to wet the diaper but after pulling them down to potty I had to pull them back up again. What I remember in very clear detail was that fullness between my thighs the odd sensation against my cheeks when I walked and the odd way the diaper gathered when I sat on the couch. I also remember being turned on almost immediately and remaining that way for most of that first day.

    Turned on is a relative term because I was only eight at the time but at the time I was already masturbating and that I'd learned, oddly enough one night taking a bath. Orgasms were short, sweet and dry and sitting there on the couch with an occation tug or push was all it took to find that orgasm again. Thankfully the girls never teased although I don't think it would have mattered much. Within days, perhaps a week and no more my aunt was making me nurse one of Sandy's old pacifiers while she diapered me and by then I was wearing them just to bed.

    My aunt would wax and wane in intensity depending on factors I had no notion of. Sometimes she'd ignore the bed wetting for days then suddenly explode and I'd end up that day in a diaper and nursing a baby's bottle. After a few weeks, maybe more she threatened me with Sandy's clothes with a quote I can only paraphrase now that "if I wanted to be like my sister, then I would have to dress like her as well."

    The real irony here is that I'd already experimented with girl's clothe beginning at six with mom's stuff and then a couple of things taken from neighbor girls (in the housing was a common area for hanging clothes and there were always tons of cloths). I was never sure who's clothes my aunt used but a lot of things, after some trial and error, fit and I wore a dress over a diaper and plastic pants one fateful day after another of my aunt's tirades. Debbie was very sympathetic to my plight and Sandy simply quiet.

    I would confess to Debbie about liking it all some months later.

  6. #6


    I'm actually kind of inclined to believe him. My mom once told me she grew up with a boy whose mother would sometimes make him wear dresses. No surprise he grew up to be somewhat screwed up in the head.

  7. #7


    The 50s were a very different time, and parenting was a lot more harsh. Don't forget, this was the era of McCarthyism, the red scare, and ignorance. I can remember when I was four, I was walking around the house saying da-da, and my mom threatened to put me back into diapers just for that. I stopped saying it, but now I wish I hadn't. She also used to give me pretty severe spanking, spankings that turned my butt red and made me cry out. I know this because she later told me about it, and said that eventually she stopped spanking me because she didn't realize her own strength. I also remember that we had an old clothes bag in the basement, and me and my cousin would dress up like girls wearing what were probably old clothes that had belonged to my mom. They were just simply different times. They were not the simple, carefree, crime free years that the media often tries to typify it.

  8. #8


    The way I see it, either he's gone through a massive amount of trouble to scan his writing, make his posts seem very well-written, and is at the moment an extremely good liar...

    Or he's telling the truth.

    Personally, I'm going to go with the latter, and I believe that you'll be a good contribution to this community, sissy2baby. Welcome to ADISC.

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