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Thread: My Story - Excerpt for my book on ABDLs "Of Infantile Habits"

  1. #1

    Default My Story - Excerpt for my book on ABDLs "Of Infantile Habits"

    Hello guys. So I was inspired by someone to write a non-fiction book on ABDLs and how to come to terms with self-acceptance. I'm 5000 words in and I'm really happy how it is turning around. ANyway, one of the sections of the book is my own personal story and I'd like to share that section with you.

    Thank you guys!

    My Story
    This my story. A story maybe some of you will relate to, or maybe you wonít. I mean, itís all a matter of experience. We all grow up differently, but if youíre an Adult Baby like I am, you will relate to my life-story. Even if itís just for a moment. Even if itís just a single experience, I believe youíre going to understand what I went through. I hope my story helps you, because as an ABDL Iíve been through it all. Well, maybe not. But I have enough experience to know that there are many facets of the Adult Baby life.

    This story begins when I was five years old. I was so young, and it is my earliest memory. I was playing house with my cousin, and I was the baby. Playing house at age five is more than normal, but what wasnít really common was the fact that I enjoyed playing baby. I wasnít wearing diapers obviously, but we liked to pretend I was. It was then when my cousin proceeded to ďchangeĒ my invisible diaper that I imagined what it would be like to be really diapered at all.
    From that moment on, diapers became a thing to me.
    Of course, being five years old, you donít realize how uncommon or socially unacceptable that is. Your just go with the flow, and I went with it. I think I remembered asking to be put in diapers, and be denied the pleasure. I didnít understand why, but it happened. I guess every five year old has that innocent demeanor on them. Itís really something that shapes you. And boy, did I know that playing house and being the baby would change my life forever.
    Now, my parents were amazing. They loved me, a lot. In fact, I can say I have it easier than many because my parents were always so supportive. But parents also made mistakes, and I guess one of my parentsí mistakes was their overprotection. You see, before I was born, my mother had a miscarriage. That broke her. However, seven months later they tried again and I was born.
    But I guess the pain of a miscarriage never ceases.
    They became overprotective of me, to the point of babying me a lot even though I was older. I was out of diapers at age three, like many normal kids. But I was still babied at home to some degree. I didnít stop drinking from a bottle until I was six and by that time I was still sleeping in a crib, and I never stopped sucking my thumb. Sucking my thumb made me so freaking happy. I still do it all the time and it brings me comfort and tranquility.
    But yeah, you can say I was a baby longer than one would expect.
    I was different too. There were many odd behaviors about me, but that is something I am going to address later on.
    So I grew up repressing my desires to wear diapers. I remember I would take a shower when I was nine or ten and I would pretend my momís bathing cap was a diaper and I would enjoy the shower imagining I was a baby. I didnít understand then how difficult my life was going to be as an Adult Baby, but I knew thatÖ that I would be different forever.
    I grew up liking to wear diapers, and sucking my thumb with my blankie. My parents were growing concerned about my Thumbsucking. If they knew the truth, boy, would I be in trouble. But yes, my desire to wear diapers was instilled ever since I was a little boy. What caused it? There is no way to know.
    There is never a way to know.
    All Adult Babies strife to know what caused their desires, but there is never a way of telling. There is never a way of telling the reasons why you were like that. You were just ďborn that wayĒ. I mean, some of them know, but you never quite understand quite what got you into diapers in the first place.
    So stop trying to point fingers. I donít blame anyone for my ABDL-ism. I donít blame myself. Nor my overprotective parents. Not anyone. Because this is just the way we were born, and thatís the way we should be. If you believe in God, which I do, Iíd say that God made you that way. Or the Universe or Nature or whatever you believe in. So yes, there is no reason to feel guilty or blame yourself for something that is out of your control.

    The Teen Years

    Growing up with desires to wear diapers makes you believe youíre a freak and youíre ďthe only oneĒ. As I said, youíre never the only one. I discovered that when I was twelve. I was bored one day, and I had just been granted the privileges of internet surfing. It was before social networks existed, back when there were only websites and such. I got curious. I used the search engine to look for older boys and girls in diapers with the hope I wasnít the only one.
    Boy, was I surprised when I discovered sites like DPF (Diaper Pail Friends) and some other sites. Finally! I had found other people. I couldnít even believe it. There were other people who liked to be babies like I did! There were people like me. I felt so relieved, I felt like a huge weight had been stripped from my shoulders. It was like Atlas had arrived and taken that huge weight off me. I felt happy.
    Happier than I was at that time.
    I continued to surf the internet for months afterwards, but I was really starting to crave diapers. It was very difficult, it brought me anxiety and such. My repression had become an obsession. And I made online friends who wore diapers and it made me feel so jealous. I was jealous of them because they could have what I would never have. If people found out, I would be cast out, and I feared my loving parents would reject me. My younger sister (three years younger) would be ashamed of me. Everyone would hate me.
    So I kept hiding, just relying to my online friends.
    I started using towels to simulate cloth diapers, but what I needed were true diapers. I used to pin together long t-shirts and pretend they were onesies. I was desperate, and my anxiety was growing stronger each day. I didnít know what to do, but for the moment I would have to do with pretending that I was alright. I would have to conform to the fact that I wasnít alone.
    And that was enough to give me strength.
    I turned thirteen, and my younger cousin had just been born. So, on the summer of 2006, they went to my town to spend some time with us. My cousin was two years old, and was still in diapers. I knew the time had come. I knew this was my chance to wear actual diapers. It was the chance Iíve been waiting for.
    So one day, while everyone was out and I was left alone, I crept into my sisterís room where my uncle and aunt were staying with the baby and grabbed three diapers from the diaper bag. Boy was I excited, nervous, a wrecking ball of emotions. Man, Iím getting edgy just writing about it right now.
    Anyway, I found my way back to my room and I stared at the diapers. They were amazing. I decided to put one on. Of course they were so small, and I didnít fit in them, so I decided to paste two together. The semi-fit. It wasnít exactly what I was hoping to get, but it was good enough. I was finally wearing diapers after so many agonizing years.
    I plopped my thumb into my mouth and lay in my bed, feeling bliss.
    My dream had come true.
    I didnít use those diapers, I kept them hidden. I thought that no one would find them and I could wear them whenever I was feeling anxious or sad. I thought that those three baby diapers were the only thing Iíd ever get. But it was enough, for now.
    One day I was coming back from school when I found my hidden diapers out in the open. My mom had found them! She said nothing, she just put them out there and my sister wondered what they were for. My mom didnít know, said she found them under a drawer in my room. I was so scared. Like, panic-attack inducing scared. I ran towards my room and started to connect my Messenger account to talk to my ABDL friends.
    I needed advice.
    My mom had not confronted me yet. So I talked to my friends into what I should do. They said that I could lie and pretend that they werenít mine. To play dumb. But part of me couldnít keep living in the lie. Part of me wanted the truth to be told because as they say, ďthe truth will set you free.Ē
    So I accompanied my mom to do some errands, and in the way home, I told her. ďMom, those diapers were mine.Ē
    My mom almost kills us when she stopped the car with a halt. I knew there was no way of lying anymore, I had to tell her the truth. So eventually, I explained to her what infantilism was. I was so scared that I worded it wrong and almost started to cry.
    But I was brave.
    I was always brave. That was one of my qualities. One of my virtues. I was a brave enough to confront this.
    My mom said she didnít understand, but that was to be expected. So I told her that if she wasnít comfortable with it, we could just not talk about it. We agreed to have the conversation later, because she wasnít ready to hear what I had to say.

    The Dark Side of Me
    I was sixteen when I was diagnosed with Manic-Depressive Illness. Bipolar Disorder. I felt more alienated to anyone than ever. I was suffering a lot. I had started to hurt myself and thoughts of suicide. My darkness had become unbearable. This has nothing to do with my ABDL-ism, but itís important to mention that I wasnít happy. I was very sad and almost suicidal. I thought that the world was going to end.
    My parents, my family, they were all concerned for me. Because I had become distraught and emotionally damaged. So, in one of my depressive stupors, I decided to confront my parents about my ABDL side. I printed some information from (a really resourceful site for all of you) and handed it to my parents.
    They read it in privacy and I was dreading the moment when I would have to confront them about it. Surprisingly, my parents loved me. They loved me. They said it was ok. That maybe I should see a counselor about all my darkness, about my infantilism, about everything. And then, maybe we could talk about it.
    I was relieved, but I was also depressed. My parents didnít understand and they thought something was wrong with me, I didnít know at the time they were just scared. Scared Iíd hurt myself. Scared Iíd die.
    There are many stories to be told about my depression: anti-depressants, mood-stabilizers, psychiatric hospitals and electroshock therapy. But ALL that has to do with my illness. Iím bipolar, and everything I just mentioned has to do exclusively with it. It has nothing to do with the fact that I like to wear diapers. It has nothing to do with the fact that I was a big baby. But it was important to mention because my depression was what led me to confess to my parents

    Wearing diapers.
    When I was eighteen, I had recovered from my darkness. I was happy, and the tide turned. Because now my parents knew that I liked to wear diapers and my mom, in an effort to keep me happy, would buy adult diapers for me. She understood they were an escape route form my darkness and I would be forever grateful. I was finally wearing adult diapers. I was finally half-accepted by my parents.
    I was wearing diapers overnight, and I enjoyed them. I remember the first time I wet them, it felt really, really, amazingly good. I remember feeling like a baby, and I loved every part of it. I was eighteen years old and still in diapers and I was happy. Happy that my parents accepted me for who I am.
    But I was still feeling shame.
    I mean, I was a man, legally, so why would anyone want to wear diapers? I knew the stories, I knew the facts, I knew that I wasnít alone. But I still felt shame. Why did it feel so good to wear diapers? Why did I have to be that way?
    Maybe my parents would never stop loving me. But I still had trouble loving myself. The Bipolar Disorder and my ABDL-ism made me feel like I was unworthy of love. That no one could ever love me. That I was still a freak and that I was wacked in the head. Even when I was still out of the dark, I was still shrouded in shadows of self-doubt and self-loathing.
    I wondered if I would ever grow to love myself.

    Coming Out.
    I was twenty two years old and I had realized something: I HATED HIDING.
    I didnít want to hide anymore, I wanted to be free. To tell the world I was an Adult Baby. My parents understood and I had recently told my sister, who was super cool about it. So, if my immediate family was okay with it, maybe the world would be too? I took a leap of faith. I knew that I had to tell someone or my world would explode.
    I told my best friend.
    What was his reaction? AMAZING. He said he loved me, and that he didnít care that I liked to wear diapers and be a baby. He said that I should love myself for who I was and donít let anyone tell me otherwise. In a token of affection, he bought me two baby pacifiers. That is the best thing that someone had ever done for me up until that moment. It broke me because I was moving away, but my best friend said heíd always be there for me and that he didnít mind and that he wasnít ashamed of me.
    That encouraged me.
    Once I moved, I decided to come out to the world. Now, that is something that many of you think itís not wise. Why would someone want to let the world know that they like to wear diapers and pretend to be babies? Well, let me tell you. When you unleash those words, it becomes scary but also relieving. I didnít want to hide anymore. I wanted the world to see me for who I was. I wanted the world to see the true me.
    So I eventually started telling my friends. All my friends. One by one. Some of them took it very well, others were surprised, and just one was weirded out. JUST ONE. But in my defense, that person is particularly intolerant to everything. But I had done it. I had told every single one of my friends I liked to wear diapers.
    Did the world end?
    In fact, it got better. I could talk about them about it, and they said that the world was changing. Gay marriage was now legal and people were more tolerant. So I told my cousins and even two of my uncles. They were cool too about it.
    Maybe I was born lucky. My family and my friends loved me, and they showed that by accepting me for who I was. I wouldnít change that for anything. Of course many of them had questions I had to answer, but eventually, I started telling them that I loved them so much and that their acceptance means the world.

    Today Iím twenty six years old and I wear diapers most of the time. Iím a successful writer and I have a college degree. I am happy, even though sometimes I get depressed, my family is always there to support me. I must confess that I still live with my family, because I havenít found my other half and Iím not financially ready to move on my own. But living with my family has become a good thing.
    Why? Because they let me be myself.
    I can walk around the house in diapers, and suck my thumb when weíre watching TV. I have become very open about my ABDL-ism. I wear diapers outside, I go to concerts, or the movies or hang out with my friends with diapers underneath my clothes. And the most wonderful thing is that they know.
    They know and they donít mind. The world is more accepting that youíd believe.
    I love myself, even though I slip sometimes, I have learned to love myself.

  2. #2


    Hi kik91

    That it truly beautiful.

    Thanks you so much for sharing.


  3. #3


    Nice story,sounds like its been a bumpy road for you but glad you found acceptance.
    I would read your book when its done.

  4. #4


    Quote Originally Posted by Pinkiebinki View Post
    Nice story,sounds like its been a bumpy road for you but glad you found acceptance.
    I would read your book when its done.
    Thank you! Yeah, it's been bumpy but once you accept yourself, everything is better!!

  5. #5


    Thank you for posting this! I'm still sort of secret, sort of not, and haven't had the conversation with my wife that I want to have. I love her and trust her completely but don't want to make her unhappy because she's had a rough road with depression. Maybe your story will be the spark I need to come out to her. Please continue your writing!

  6. #6


    Quote Originally Posted by Fiddlemiller View Post
    Thank you for posting this! I'm still sort of secret, sort of not, and haven't had the conversation with my wife that I want to have. I love her and trust her completely but don't want to make her unhappy because she's had a rough road with depression. Maybe your story will be the spark I need to come out to her. Please continue your writing!
    I'm so happy that my story helped you. If it helps anyone, then my job is done. I'm happy! Thank you!

  7. #7


    Thank you! Your story is very touching. I have had very similar experiences in my life. When I was 6, my mom found diapers that I stole from my brother, but thought nothing of it. I didn't explain to her that I was ABDL until I was 15, and she didn't receive it well. She tried to take me to a shrink, but gave in when I told her I could stop the "behavior" myself. To be fair, I did not explain it very well... Five years later, I am 20 years old, still living with them, and very much an ABDL. My girlfriend and my brother, who also live with me, are cool with it. It is only my parents who believe I have stopped. I decided it was something they don't need to know; however, it is a lot harder to be an ABDL in this home. And my mom's lack of understanding did lead me to feel depressed. For a while I even tried to repress and completely eliminate my ABDL side, but now I know that is not exactly possible. Besides, why eliminate something that makes me feel good and harms no one? I have to get all my diapers in secret and can only regress when my parents are not home or when I have enough privacy. It sucks, but it is better than nothing.

    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

  8. #8


    I think I've read this before but it does hit a nerve as I've had similar experiences. I'm still in the closet to everybody but my wife and the people in these boards. I like being open with my parents, but I really think they have traditional sensitivities and would have a hard time processing that info. But my fear and constant feelings of weirdness have finally gotten me to the point of facing it. Fear be damned. I'm tired of hiding what I consider 1/3 of my total identity. I don't need to dance down the street dressed as Baby New Year but I want to be OK with it and who I am. And be strong enough if someone does find out and reacts negatively. It takes real courage to be who you are when it goes against the standard norm.

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