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Thread: My life as a adult baby, where it all began.

  1. #1

    Default My life as a adult baby, where it all began.

    Thinking back over my life there is a lot of tell tale signs of wanting to be a baby again, when I was a kid me and my mates would play mummies and daddies mates as the family I was always the baby and it was their job to look after me, I am the baby of my family and was always wrapped up in cotton wall by my mum and my older brother, I was in hospital a lot as I tended to do silly things to impress my mates and they always ended badly lol usually in hospital I was in bed a lot so doctors made me wear nappies till I was better, I've always loved cartoons and kids films remain my absolute fav film genre ever.

    What aspects of your growing up made you feel you've always been the baby you were before the horrors of potty training? hehe :P

  2. #2


    Hey there little one thanks for sharing i think lots of things may have triggered it for me. I love the feeling of being safe and loved and all i want and need is a lots of cuddles and im a happy boy. super hugs little leo

  3. #3


    I'm not quite sure where to begin. I never thought I was going to have a second chance at being a toddler. And yet, when I look back, the signs are all there and glaring. For me, the. years of early childhood were the best years of my life. The world was new and amazing. I was loved and made to feel special. My mother taught me my ABC's when I was two and a half, and I was reading Little Golden Books by the time I was three and a half, four years old. I don't remember potty training, but I was told that I picked up on it fairly quickly. Like most young kids I still had accidents now and then. I was never punished or made to feel bad for them.

    I didn't go to preschool, I went right into kindergarten at age 4. Even though my classmates were a year older than me, I had a leg up on many of them thanks to my mother teaching me much of the basics. As a result, kindergarten was terribly boring for me unless we were playing or doing something artistic. Being a little more advanced than my classmates made me a little bit of an outcast. I was a small, skinny, kid from working class family who lived in a housing project and was bussed to school where a lot of well-off children went. I had a hard time making friends, and I couldn't understand why. I would rather read a book or play with toys than play sports at recess. This, being smart, and being smaller, poorer, and younger made me a target for bigger kids, and that's pretty much what the bullying began.

    When I was 5 years old, two significant things happened. The first was that my mother remarried and now I had a stepfather. The second was that I met a kid a year younger than me who liked to wet his pants. Since my mother now had a new apple of her eye, and I was fascinated with and frankly, had a boycrush on this cute chubby little kid who liked to pee his pants, I started to pee myself too. I didn't do it often enough to draw medical concern. I'd also wet the bed intentionally at night around this time. It felt nice and it did get me attention.

    That lasted a couple years until my sister was born, and then not even that worked. By then, though, I had grown to love wetting myself, but I had to hide it. My folks weren't mad but they would chide gently. It's time to be a big kid. Things like that. I still struggled in school with my classmates and with socializing. My grades were good thanks to a ravenous appetite for knowledge. I also loved to read. Still do. My youngest sister was added to the family when I was 10 years old. This was for the cause for me to be somewhat isolated in my own home.

    I began to notice that I was not maturing psychologically like my peers were. As I stood at the gates of puberty, I continued to find solace with my books and toys, and most of my friends were younger than me. They liked the same toys and cartoons I did, and didn't judge me or make me feel uncomfortable. In middle school I was nicknamed 'Transformer' by a neighbor kid in the same grade because I liked playing with those toys. I was 11, but since I was a grade ahead of most 11 year olds, playing with Transformers and He-Man toys was immature. The bullying continued.

    ... as will this tale momentarily...

    - - - Updated - - -

    Now, where was I? Oh yeah, approaching my teenage years. So there I was, about ready to be a freshman in high school at age 13. My grades begin to take a dive around eighth grade because I stopped caring about school work. I retain the knowledge of what I learned in class, but never felt the need to do things like homework or reports or any other things like that. So I just didn't do them. This led to me being punished by being isolated to my room, sometimes for long stretches of time. It was around this time that I saw my biological father for the last time in 12 years. He had taken me out for my 12th birthday and bought me tons of toys, but I never got them. Later that night my mom sprung news on me at dinner at a steakhouse that due to my poor grades, I was grounded till further notice and had to get weekly report cards to earn privileges. The epicness of this betrayal could not be understated. Being punished was one thing, but being strung along and then to have the rug pulled from under me... it scarred me, and what made it worse is that my dad decided to bow out of my childhood at that point. I was always a kid with him, and now he was gone.

    My secret release was my wetting. I got caught now and then because I was scared to put the undies in the wash. Instead I would wet my underwear by sitting on the toilet with them up, rinse them out, and hide them in my closet. At this time, the wetting took on a fetish aspect, it turned me on to wet just as much as sniffing socks did (that one I've done for as long as I can remember too). Age 12 also brought about the confiscation of my blankie.

    I didn't want this. I didn't want to grow up. I hated that just because I was at some point in my development and was now a "teenager" that others had the right to impose responsibilities and expectations on me. I was being shoved into a world where I wasn't welcome unless I conformed and tried to be like everyone else. Knowing I was gay made it worse. I felt so alone, bereft of all my security. My folks had begun to discourage me having younger friends now that I was in high school, and social circles among my peers did so as well.

    My first year and a half of high school was hell. I was an outcast even among outcasts, bullied severely, and full of inner rage. I was terrified of fist fights, when I was attacked I usually responded by flipping over desks and throwing them at students and teachers alike. I spent a lot of time in In-school Suspension with a 6'9" tall teacher who had a head the size of a softball. And I read. I did my schoolwork and read. I just wanted to be left alone. I still played with toys. I still wet myself at home or in the woods on the way home from school and tossed the underwear away.

    When my family moved in 1988 (towards the end of my sophomore year) I thought things would change, but I ended up running afoul of a new bully even more terrifying that the ones I faced before...

    To be even more continued...

    - - - Updated - - -

    I'm 15 years old. I'm gradually growing accustomed to my new life. Even though the new bully was very scary, he lives on the other side of town and I didn't see him that much outside of school. We took different buses home so I only ever saw him when we were in class. Plus, after a while, he found somebody new to pick on. And finally, I began to develop. Physically I was fine, Just your average 15 year old kid. But I discovered music around then as well. Being a musical family it was easy to discover it, but finding the music I liked was a revelation. At 16 years old I begin playing drums. I got my first job and I joined my first band. I had finally found a purpose. A reason to want to grow up. My new school wasn't all that bad, I fell in with the crowd of punk rock kids who introduced me to the Ramones and the Misfits and Dead Kennedys. Then later it was 7 Seconds and Minor Threat. It wasn't just punk either, I bonded with a lot of my peers over metal as well. I had finally found a subculture within my school where I was somewhat accepted.

    I still had a few friends who were a couple years younger than me. I still got quite the thrill of wetting my pants. I never even thought about diapers or about age regression, and at that point in my life I didn't know what an adult baby was, I had no idea what infantilism was. I still have my troubles adjusting, but for the most part I made it through high school and then went straight into the music scene full time. When I was 17 I came out to my mom, told her I was gay. Around the time I was 19, I "came out" to my mom as a pee fetishist (I've mentioned the story, she kept discovering my undies over the years and finally wanted to get rid of my waterbed, so I told her). She just said to clean up after myself before I stink up the house.

    I was 21 when I re-acquired a blankie (still have it). I was 22 when my older then-boyfriend diapered me in a Depend and put me to bed and tucked me in. It felt magical. At 23 I discovered AOL chatrooms (diapers) and discovered what an adult baby was. I didn't think *I* was one but the idea was appealing to me. I wore diapers sporadically through my 20's. I had a rough time "coming out" to my partner about my fetish as he was weirded out by it. W/S he didn't mind as much but diapers freaked him. He and I settled into a long-term relationship that spanned 13 years. Over time he grew more comfortable with me as a DL but he never embraced it. Our sex was rote and pointless after a while, and we grew apart. I loved him dearly but couldn't imagine spending the rest of my life with him... then it happened.

    ... to be continued again!

  4. #4


    I was adopted at the age of two, having spent some time in an adoptive home or orphanage. Though I can't remember that, I do remember my two teddy bears, one which was new, and one which was very worn. My guess is the worn bear was probably something I had at the orphanage and took with me to help make the transition to another set of parents. Of course this latter period of time would be when a child struggles with potty training.

    I remember an incident from when I was fours years old. It was evening, and I was running through the house saying da da over and over again. My mom kept telling me to cut it out, but I continued until she said that if I continued, she would but me back in diapers, and if I doubted her, she said she still had my diapers. I can remember really wanting to be in diapers, but we were having company, and I would have been too embarrassed, so I stopped.

    Two years later, when I was six, a new family moved in living two houses from ours. They had three boys, one my age, one aged four, and an infant. The four year old was deliberately wetting his pants, I guess out of jealousy to the new arrival. Their house had a side door, and inside was a landing that went down to the basement where the washing machine was. I knew that she put his wet pants on the landing until she had time to go all the way down. After I had been playing over there, instead of going directly home, I went back in through the side door and stole his wet underwear so I could wear them later. I was six, and for some reason, having wet underwear was a turn on. I was too afraid to wet my own pants because I would have gotten a spanking. My mom found them when I got home, almost immediately and I had to take them back and apologize. I sneaked them back in the house without saying a word.

    When I was in 7th grade, my parents went bankrupt and we had to move, with me leaving my very best friend. I had a psychotic break and lost an entire week of awareness. That summer my parents had a pool membership where I spent a lot of the day. By this time I really wanted to wet my pants, and I realized I could come home from the pool and wet my swimming trunks, and then wash them out in the shower, my parents none the wiser. This was the start of wetting underwear and making makeshift diapers, and it never stopped until I got caught when I was in college. My mom took me to a psychiatrist at a residential mental facility. Upon graduating, I got a job away from home and continued wearing and wetting diapers to this very day.

  5. #5


    I met my husband Chris in 2003 on a fetish website that I won't name. I didn't know he was going to be my husband one day, but he says he knew from the moment we met. What started as a once or twice a year sexual fling involving diapers and other things DL's do turned into a full blown affair. He fell in love with me and I resisted for a long time, not wanting to end my current relationship and risk everything. Selfish of me, I know, but eventually, I broke off my long term relationship. Chris had encouraged and participated in my DL side, and even pushed me towards ABism at times. And when my LTR ended, I regressed and regressed hard.

    I was still living with my ex for 16 months after we broke up, and we headed into separate bedrooms. I went full on for easily 4 months diapering, using a binky, blankie and plushie cuddling. And when Chris and I moved in together even though I was out of that phase, I was still identifying as ABDL, not just DL.

    It's been 3 years since we moved in together. I am 40 years old, but I'm still 5 at heart. In my re-imagined young childhood I never potty trained. I was never thrown into the shark tank of life and forced to learn how to swim. I have my responsible adult side but I will always be a todd. I still read and play with my toys. I diaper full time and Chris is full-on supportive of me being AB. I have AB friends in real life- a big brother, a kid brother, and a daddy too. I am much more calm and at ease diapered and in my happy state... and looking back I am surprised it took me so long to realize it.

    The End... ?

  6. #6


    Looking back I do recognize signs of abness in my teen years. I can't recall them all at one time though. Besides developing a thumb and pacifier sucking habit, I remember saying I wanted to be a baby forever when I was 16. I also recall thinking I was going to have ''daddy issues'' with any future boyfriends.

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