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Hi, I'm a Spanish trans woman.
I'm proud of being trans, being capable of fighting for my identity was one step closer to my happiness.
My adult age stopped at an appropriate 30 and for all the people that I care about, it stays at that xD.
My little age flows with my emotions and needs, but I tend to feel more comfortable at very little ages with high attention demanding.
My story started from the beginning, I was a very timid and introverted child, born in a family of already 4 (mother, father, big brother 8 years senior and elder sister 3 years bigger) I was the littlest and I was not planned, my traditional parents already got the pair that they wanted and their jobs could afford. My parents had to change jobs and sell their souls to a business man so they could handle everything. My father chose to drink as an escape and my mother tried to do her best to care for four alone (traditional mom that does everything in the house while the father is in the bar or on the couch). My brother was forced to act as a surrogate father/nanny when not trying to protect us from our father or being an adolescent. My sister, at first was too little and was sent to play with our cousin who was another female of the same age (traditional thinking), later being older she was forced to speed her growth faster than my brother and me.
My paternal grandfathers were horrible when I was forced to be with them, they didn't want me there, always still and silent because the tv was more important, and I wasn't able to touch anything, just stay in your corner... (I didn't cry when both of them died... yes, they were cruel with my mom and me, just like if they were strangers)(as little, I hate being forced to stay still or silent without reason). My maternal grandparents I stayed in their beautiful town house every weekend from 1 year old to 9 years old, was a tradition that each child of the family must stay at the house, my brother did it, my sister and cousin were doing it... the major problem was that when the tradition started my grandpa was healthy, but his health turned to the worse, much later we discovered that all the smoking gave him lung cancer. With cancer developing he wasn't the most playful grandpa, the things that did with my brother, that he told my sister and me, he never did with both of us, and my sister had my cousin to play with... I was alone all the weekends... I didn't have a pleasurable childhood at all.
In my childhood, I was bed-wetter and used diapers for nighttime until I was 8 years, In that time I didn't recognize that, but with the point of view of an adult, I can say that it was my unconscious mind that was demanding attention, care and affection, that I only received when my mother or my grandma helped me to go to bed and it ended when they treated me worse because I was a 8 years old wetting the bed instead that a normal "boy" like they saw me (I did my transition as an adult).
I always was a clever and cunning little girl. When I didn't like to do something, I found ways to avoid it, like using a bike. When it was my turn to learn how to ride a bike, I was 4 years old and I was already spending my weekends in the house of my maternal grandparents. I was given a bike for my birthday (tuesday), I remember not being too excited about it xD, much more because I wasn't able to use it until the next friday. When friday came, they tried to persuade me to play with the bike (I wasn't interested) and they forced me to mount the bike with some bribery (I was too weak for sweets... shame on me), after some hours of fruitless instruction and frustration galore they tried to set my wings free... yes, by learning the hard way in a ground that can hurt and make multiples scrapings, I run and cried 'alone' in a shed of the behind the house surrounded by cages with bunnies, they didn't try to find me, I was very stealthy (my grandma knew all my hiding spots) and I My family left me in that house as usual, and I started to scheme how to murder the bike. When my plan was solid, I picked my weapon of choice (screwdriver) without anyone intervention (no safety measures in the tool shed), I took the bike that was where I left it, my grandfather and grandmother saw me, but they didn't know my intentions (angelical face
post crying) and went behind the house surrounded by several plants protected by my grandma, there I used the screwdriver to disassemble the little parts of the bike and throw them to the neighbor's property forest, the rest of the bike I hid it between plants. When my parents asked me for the bike, first I lied telling them that I didn't know where it was, but when they were more serious about it, I had to tell them... no more expensive presents for me for the next 2 years xD, but I was safe from the bike. Even now as an adult I am terrible with my balance and I wasn't able to learn to ride a bike. The last time that I touched a bike, I got hurt, and I didn't even try to ride it xD.
My first experience with infantilism was at 11 years old, my parents returned from a business travel and my mother, that always picks anything that she thinks will be useful (from any source that is 'abandoned', if she can think of a later use, she just gathers it, even if later she forgets about it) came with some newborn diapers that someone left in the airport bathroom. Those diapers just called me for a reason that I wasn't able to explain. When my mother stored them, I just spied where she did it and when she and my brothers weren't home, I just needed to touch them and after that I needed to be able to do it again, so I hid them in the storeroom of my bedroom (I didn't have a good enough hiding spot because I shared bedroom with my brother, but some old boxes needed to be enough, and they did were enough for 6 years). I didn't understand why I was attracted to the diapers, I had bad memories of my family humiliating me for being a bed-wetter, so why?.
That was very hard for me. But not only I was shamed with that feelings, before that experience, I was starting to feel very bad about my place in the world, I only had one friend and it was not a very involved friendship because we only shared one thing in common and as we got older that only got worse. In school I was the nerd and the one easily abusable, my cunning wasn't enough and the bullies wanted photos of my sister (yes... always in the shadow of my sister, and no, I never gave them nothing... so many glasses are broken to deny them any information). I told my family of the bullying (not about the photos) and they told me the typical: to be brave, don't cry and they will leave you alone. I know that I'm the choices that I made, and that I chose to be a better person that most situations deserved.
These experiences didn't let me develop myself emotionally, and I wasn't able to see the blaring signals that I was sending to the world and to myself. Things like not wanting to make the First Comunion even when all my family did it (I'm more animism that christianism), now as an adult I can say that I wanted to use a dress and not the sailor suit (sorry grandma, I ruined your old dress, but it made a little girl very happy). When my voice started to get deeper and my shoulders to get wide, my father was proud and my family celebrated because the 'the boy was turning into a man' I was sadder, the nerd now was a bigger boxing bag. I lost my only survival skill, I wasn't stealthy anymore. In the street I needed to dodge the people to not collide. I wasn't able to sing happily anymore, or at least as happy, because my voice was a shame for me. Little by little, I lost my motivation. I wanted to have a normal girl childhood with a family that was there, without bullies and at last one best friend that didn't let me down, but I got all dysfunctional.
At 12 years old, I got brave enough to buy my first pack of diapers. I remember being in one of the local supermarkets (not the same as my family) for over 30 minutes looking for 'the right pack' (one small enough that was hidable in my bag and in the spot reserved in the house) and convincing myself that I wasn't just a pervert. Revising my strategies for any possible eventuality and trying to be as unsuspicious as possible (the security guard was probably looking for me for what I wanted to steal xD). I just focused on the price, so I picked the pack of diapers and went to the cash register, in the checkout line I tried to be as nonchalant as possible (I was leaking sweat) and avoided the possible gazes (you feel like every person on the planet is looking at you, but maybe the only person that is laughing at your expressions is the security guard that is viewing all this drama), when my turn came I put the pack of goodnites in the loading belt and the woman that was the clerk at that time was professional. I chose goodnites because at that time I could use them and the people seeing my buying them will just think that I need them, I never really had a problem with people knowing about me being a bed-wetter, they will not come to me to humiliate me and I chose it over any misunderstanding (yep, at that time I was trying very hard to not feel adversion to my infantilism and my gender dysphoria). I hid the goodnites in my backpack and I was able to return home, and hide the diapers in the prepared space that was in between the woods of a piece of furniture that was stored.
The experience was very nice, because I used them for sleeping. I prepared a diaper behind one of my pillows before the night. My brother always was awake and listening to music, playing a game and/or working with something in the computer. Even if he was in the same room, he was unable to see or hear what I was doing under the blankets, so I just put on the goodnites and slept very comfortably. They never discovered it, my brother was suspicious one time that I was a bit careless, but for the time that I did it and I remember, this was the point where it was impossible for me to deny that it was just something that was making me happy. That doesn't mean that this is the end of the story, no. After several months doing this most of the days (not all of them, were safe enough), I was curious if I would feel different If I used the diapers instead of just sleep with them. So, in a friday night (at this time, I was able to be in the city instead of going to the grandpas) and when my brother was partying hard (this days he didn't return until the saturday afternoon), I tried to not go to the bathroom before going to sleep and 'let it flow' (hehehe), but I needed to go to the bathroom that night and sit myself in the toilet (closet and without lowering my pajama) and then I was able to pie myself, returning to my bedroom was a walk of shame and I tried to sleep but It was impossible it didn't have anything of the feelings that I was looking for. That night I removed my diaper and cleaned myself as best as possible (I was unable to take a shower in the night and in the boys bathroom didn't have wet wipes), because I didn't plan this well... I felt miserable. I hid the wet diaper and got to sleep crying. I woke up early with the alarm clock, take a shower, used air freshener, and throwed not only the wet diaper, all my goodnites too (I didn't remember the newborn diapers... that was a totally failure that I only remembered so many years later), I wasn't in a right state of mind and I needed time.
When I was 14 years old, I got my own room and my own computer (until this time I shared the computer with my brother, so I was careful with the things that I 'explored'), but my body was just full of uncontrollable hormones. I was an asexual, but I didn't have my orientation defined at that time (it wasn't as mainstream). At high school I only got attracted to one boy who talked and showed concern to me, I didn't try to make friends with him, because the bullying was extreme and anyone that got in my 'influence sphere' received the same treatment (starting high school I had a friend... this friend changed school the next year, coincidence? I don't think so, he was smart to leave that rat hole) and he lived in a town when I lived in a city, the distance with so little transportation methods and without starting a friendship from the school, very difficult to start anything without smartphones, but he was cute.
The things that I used to 'relieve myself', at first were limited to straight and lesbian porn (I never enjoyed much gay porn because it was uncomfortable and stressful for my undiscovered dysphoria), but it just felt that something was missing, It was just purely physical, I needed to 'calm the beast' to think clearly, so I did the did and continue my life. So I gave the chance again to diapers, and started to explore AB/DL porn without kinks, but this was the start of a problem that so much people like me will share, fear of being called pedophile (about that time it was the start of the campaigns about pedophilia and all the memes and social media lynching) and it's a problem because you feel guilty just for looking at diapers and just fantasizing about using them (a pack of diapers for infants has the pictures of childs, but you feel like one of the childs). Before this I had a natural magnetism for children, my parents used me as a nanny for the children of their friends and I always 'entertained' them, because I was one more of them, just bigger and with more responsibilities. But this fear started to affect my interactions with the children near me. And this worsened as I grew older and the age difference was more pronounced. At this time, I had another two new cousins, with 10 and 12 years of difference from me, so at this time they were little and I had fear of being called pedophile when I never would do anything similar. I avoided being with them, just so If in the future I was discovered, my uncle would never be capable of doing anything to me.
I had moments where I was feeling more adventurous, and the curiosity just got the best of me. I wanted to learn all of the things that the people were saying. I didn't have a big understanding of the English language so some things were totally unknown to me. So I started looking for all the porn, and started to build my boundaries. I cannot stand cruelty (even if it is consented), I'm very empathic, so I can look and enjoy light bondage, but hard bondage/torture/sadomasochism is totally banned. Until I recognized and admitted to myself that I was trans, one dirty pleasure was sissy porn, but when I discovered this part of myself that type of porn wasn't the same, after that I changed the focus of my fantasies to reaffirm myself to stand against the world.
Another type of porn and the most important of all, was the babyfur. This was like I found the truth most deep within me. I was able to look at whatever I liked without feeling any guilt. Not only that, my soul tingled with so much cuteness. I found my paradise. At first I didn't know what my animal was, I like so many animals and I just wanted to be able to change forms!!! But at some point in some forums the people said that having a fursona that is a metamorph is not really part of the fandom, that got me a bit mad, but some of them presented valid arguments so I just waited to choose 'the right one'. A while later, I chose a brown bear, because I liked the feeling of the mother caring and protecting the cubs and being in peace in the forest without so many predators as the humans and other bears for territory. But when I started my transition as a trans woman, I changed my priorities and the symbolism of the bear wasn't as important as the feeling of my pride. I started to see the vixen as my symbol. I started my 'cunning way' of thinking, inspired by all my experiences and doing the things that I want, whatever I want... that's the goal, I want to be more strong to be totally free, even if I'm being called crazy or eccentric, this is my desire for the future.
At this moment, I cannot indulge myself freely in my desires, I need to live with my family because of job, monetary and mental health.
Several years ago, before starting my transition. I was in a deep depression. I lost my job. I lost contact with my friends as they progressed with their lives, changing countries, getting married and having children, the usual normal lives. I was never capable of ending any major education, I didn't even end high school, just the compulsory years. When indoor or outdoor places with too much noise, too many people for me, young adolescent guys that can trigger the bullying memories, or just any normally stressful situations... my anxiety explodes, without meditation it can bring me to have a panic attack. Finding a good enough therapist wasn't easy, because they only wanted to get their job done (diagnosis = PTSD = give him/her medication and if he/she can live it's ok).
Months after my transition, I wanted to be more trustful of the world. The reason was because I hated the world that I lived in, I just enjoyed my dream/fantasy world where I was able to create anything that I wanted with my fair rules. And that isolated me in my bedroom, I only came out when it was necessary. To eat, use the bathroom and basically survive. But after my transition, and telling the world who I was (well, I won't reveal that I'm a little vixen in public for now because that would not end well for me xD) I wanted to be more social, and that my therapist told me that the only way was by practicing. So I started to be more open, even to strangers. That was a big change for me. When I was waiting for a blood extraction for analysis, I met an old man that seemed harmless. His voice was tender, his look was not remarkable for an old man of that neighborhood, and he was waiting for the same as me, perfect chance to have a little inocent chat. He knew well about the neighborhood and was interesting, and he was not the first one to ask me about me being trans. My hair was growing, my face was androgynous, my clothes were unisex and I reduced my tone of voice a little so that it wasn't so deep. When it was my turn I got dizzy because of the blood extraction, that wasn't odd, I was on a diet and being on an empty stomach, all the people that were there found out about it (there is no privacy...) and the old man was one of them. When I was leaving, the old man asked me how I was feeling. I answered that I was fine and that drinking a bit of juice and having breakfast would be better. The old man invited me to that and I didn't think anything was wrong... just an old man being nice, a hope in the world. I don't really know how it happened, my memories of that conversation are all fragmented, I think that I really was more dizzy than I wanted to admit. We got to the bar, he got himself a cup of coffee (don't remember the flavor, I'm not a coffee girl) and myself got my orange juice (not my favorite, but they had freshly squeezed orange juice more often than others) and after leaving the bar we got to his house (I remember following him like a zombie), the next thing I remember seeing his bed and smelling cat shit (I remember seeing the turds too). I started to hyperventilate and needed to breathe air so I left to an opened balcony. I think that I scared the old man because I don't remember any conversation with him. I just remember staying 5 minutes on the balcony and leaving as fast as possible the house... that horrible house of horrors full of cat photos on the wall. After all that, I just think that he thought that I was a prostitute. But to me, this was a near rape encounter. And this just was a severe step back in my therapy. After that I lost my trust in my therapy and needed time to evaluate my thinking again... maybe I was right, maybe this world isn't worth it.
I changed a lot of therapists, and at this moment I have a good one that helped me greatly... I need to decide if I want to tell her about my infantilism or not. She was very open minded with the other things... but maybe this is something that changes the relationship with her and that will be the end of the therapy. The last year was very good for my health in general and I'm open to be social, one of the reasons to make myself an account here.
I hope that I didn't scare you with my intro, I will join the discord too, this post took me a lot to write.
I'm proud of being trans, being capable of fighting for my identity was one step closer to my happiness.
My adult age stopped at an appropriate 30 and for all the people that I care about, it stays at that xD.
My little age flows with my emotions and needs, but I tend to feel more comfortable at very little ages with high attention demanding.
My story started from the beginning, I was a very timid and introverted child, born in a family of already 4 (mother, father, big brother 8 years senior and elder sister 3 years bigger) I was the littlest and I was not planned, my traditional parents already got the pair that they wanted and their jobs could afford. My parents had to change jobs and sell their souls to a business man so they could handle everything. My father chose to drink as an escape and my mother tried to do her best to care for four alone (traditional mom that does everything in the house while the father is in the bar or on the couch). My brother was forced to act as a surrogate father/nanny when not trying to protect us from our father or being an adolescent. My sister, at first was too little and was sent to play with our cousin who was another female of the same age (traditional thinking), later being older she was forced to speed her growth faster than my brother and me.
My paternal grandfathers were horrible when I was forced to be with them, they didn't want me there, always still and silent because the tv was more important, and I wasn't able to touch anything, just stay in your corner... (I didn't cry when both of them died... yes, they were cruel with my mom and me, just like if they were strangers)(as little, I hate being forced to stay still or silent without reason). My maternal grandparents I stayed in their beautiful town house every weekend from 1 year old to 9 years old, was a tradition that each child of the family must stay at the house, my brother did it, my sister and cousin were doing it... the major problem was that when the tradition started my grandpa was healthy, but his health turned to the worse, much later we discovered that all the smoking gave him lung cancer. With cancer developing he wasn't the most playful grandpa, the things that did with my brother, that he told my sister and me, he never did with both of us, and my sister had my cousin to play with... I was alone all the weekends... I didn't have a pleasurable childhood at all.
In my childhood, I was bed-wetter and used diapers for nighttime until I was 8 years, In that time I didn't recognize that, but with the point of view of an adult, I can say that it was my unconscious mind that was demanding attention, care and affection, that I only received when my mother or my grandma helped me to go to bed and it ended when they treated me worse because I was a 8 years old wetting the bed instead that a normal "boy" like they saw me (I did my transition as an adult).
I always was a clever and cunning little girl. When I didn't like to do something, I found ways to avoid it, like using a bike. When it was my turn to learn how to ride a bike, I was 4 years old and I was already spending my weekends in the house of my maternal grandparents. I was given a bike for my birthday (tuesday), I remember not being too excited about it xD, much more because I wasn't able to use it until the next friday. When friday came, they tried to persuade me to play with the bike (I wasn't interested) and they forced me to mount the bike with some bribery (I was too weak for sweets... shame on me), after some hours of fruitless instruction and frustration galore they tried to set my wings free... yes, by learning the hard way in a ground that can hurt and make multiples scrapings, I run and cried 'alone' in a shed of the behind the house surrounded by cages with bunnies, they didn't try to find me, I was very stealthy (my grandma knew all my hiding spots) and I My family left me in that house as usual, and I started to scheme how to murder the bike. When my plan was solid, I picked my weapon of choice (screwdriver) without anyone intervention (no safety measures in the tool shed), I took the bike that was where I left it, my grandfather and grandmother saw me, but they didn't know my intentions (angelical face
post crying) and went behind the house surrounded by several plants protected by my grandma, there I used the screwdriver to disassemble the little parts of the bike and throw them to the neighbor's property forest, the rest of the bike I hid it between plants. When my parents asked me for the bike, first I lied telling them that I didn't know where it was, but when they were more serious about it, I had to tell them... no more expensive presents for me for the next 2 years xD, but I was safe from the bike. Even now as an adult I am terrible with my balance and I wasn't able to learn to ride a bike. The last time that I touched a bike, I got hurt, and I didn't even try to ride it xD.My first experience with infantilism was at 11 years old, my parents returned from a business travel and my mother, that always picks anything that she thinks will be useful (from any source that is 'abandoned', if she can think of a later use, she just gathers it, even if later she forgets about it) came with some newborn diapers that someone left in the airport bathroom. Those diapers just called me for a reason that I wasn't able to explain. When my mother stored them, I just spied where she did it and when she and my brothers weren't home, I just needed to touch them and after that I needed to be able to do it again, so I hid them in the storeroom of my bedroom (I didn't have a good enough hiding spot because I shared bedroom with my brother, but some old boxes needed to be enough, and they did were enough for 6 years). I didn't understand why I was attracted to the diapers, I had bad memories of my family humiliating me for being a bed-wetter, so why?.
That was very hard for me. But not only I was shamed with that feelings, before that experience, I was starting to feel very bad about my place in the world, I only had one friend and it was not a very involved friendship because we only shared one thing in common and as we got older that only got worse. In school I was the nerd and the one easily abusable, my cunning wasn't enough and the bullies wanted photos of my sister (yes... always in the shadow of my sister, and no, I never gave them nothing... so many glasses are broken to deny them any information). I told my family of the bullying (not about the photos) and they told me the typical: to be brave, don't cry and they will leave you alone. I know that I'm the choices that I made, and that I chose to be a better person that most situations deserved.
These experiences didn't let me develop myself emotionally, and I wasn't able to see the blaring signals that I was sending to the world and to myself. Things like not wanting to make the First Comunion even when all my family did it (I'm more animism that christianism), now as an adult I can say that I wanted to use a dress and not the sailor suit (sorry grandma, I ruined your old dress, but it made a little girl very happy). When my voice started to get deeper and my shoulders to get wide, my father was proud and my family celebrated because the 'the boy was turning into a man' I was sadder, the nerd now was a bigger boxing bag. I lost my only survival skill, I wasn't stealthy anymore. In the street I needed to dodge the people to not collide. I wasn't able to sing happily anymore, or at least as happy, because my voice was a shame for me. Little by little, I lost my motivation. I wanted to have a normal girl childhood with a family that was there, without bullies and at last one best friend that didn't let me down, but I got all dysfunctional.
At 12 years old, I got brave enough to buy my first pack of diapers. I remember being in one of the local supermarkets (not the same as my family) for over 30 minutes looking for 'the right pack' (one small enough that was hidable in my bag and in the spot reserved in the house) and convincing myself that I wasn't just a pervert. Revising my strategies for any possible eventuality and trying to be as unsuspicious as possible (the security guard was probably looking for me for what I wanted to steal xD). I just focused on the price, so I picked the pack of diapers and went to the cash register, in the checkout line I tried to be as nonchalant as possible (I was leaking sweat) and avoided the possible gazes (you feel like every person on the planet is looking at you, but maybe the only person that is laughing at your expressions is the security guard that is viewing all this drama), when my turn came I put the pack of goodnites in the loading belt and the woman that was the clerk at that time was professional. I chose goodnites because at that time I could use them and the people seeing my buying them will just think that I need them, I never really had a problem with people knowing about me being a bed-wetter, they will not come to me to humiliate me and I chose it over any misunderstanding (yep, at that time I was trying very hard to not feel adversion to my infantilism and my gender dysphoria). I hid the goodnites in my backpack and I was able to return home, and hide the diapers in the prepared space that was in between the woods of a piece of furniture that was stored.
The experience was very nice, because I used them for sleeping. I prepared a diaper behind one of my pillows before the night. My brother always was awake and listening to music, playing a game and/or working with something in the computer. Even if he was in the same room, he was unable to see or hear what I was doing under the blankets, so I just put on the goodnites and slept very comfortably. They never discovered it, my brother was suspicious one time that I was a bit careless, but for the time that I did it and I remember, this was the point where it was impossible for me to deny that it was just something that was making me happy. That doesn't mean that this is the end of the story, no. After several months doing this most of the days (not all of them, were safe enough), I was curious if I would feel different If I used the diapers instead of just sleep with them. So, in a friday night (at this time, I was able to be in the city instead of going to the grandpas) and when my brother was partying hard (this days he didn't return until the saturday afternoon), I tried to not go to the bathroom before going to sleep and 'let it flow' (hehehe), but I needed to go to the bathroom that night and sit myself in the toilet (closet and without lowering my pajama) and then I was able to pie myself, returning to my bedroom was a walk of shame and I tried to sleep but It was impossible it didn't have anything of the feelings that I was looking for. That night I removed my diaper and cleaned myself as best as possible (I was unable to take a shower in the night and in the boys bathroom didn't have wet wipes), because I didn't plan this well... I felt miserable. I hid the wet diaper and got to sleep crying. I woke up early with the alarm clock, take a shower, used air freshener, and throwed not only the wet diaper, all my goodnites too (I didn't remember the newborn diapers... that was a totally failure that I only remembered so many years later), I wasn't in a right state of mind and I needed time.
When I was 14 years old, I got my own room and my own computer (until this time I shared the computer with my brother, so I was careful with the things that I 'explored'), but my body was just full of uncontrollable hormones. I was an asexual, but I didn't have my orientation defined at that time (it wasn't as mainstream). At high school I only got attracted to one boy who talked and showed concern to me, I didn't try to make friends with him, because the bullying was extreme and anyone that got in my 'influence sphere' received the same treatment (starting high school I had a friend... this friend changed school the next year, coincidence? I don't think so, he was smart to leave that rat hole) and he lived in a town when I lived in a city, the distance with so little transportation methods and without starting a friendship from the school, very difficult to start anything without smartphones, but he was cute.
The things that I used to 'relieve myself', at first were limited to straight and lesbian porn (I never enjoyed much gay porn because it was uncomfortable and stressful for my undiscovered dysphoria), but it just felt that something was missing, It was just purely physical, I needed to 'calm the beast' to think clearly, so I did the did and continue my life. So I gave the chance again to diapers, and started to explore AB/DL porn without kinks, but this was the start of a problem that so much people like me will share, fear of being called pedophile (about that time it was the start of the campaigns about pedophilia and all the memes and social media lynching) and it's a problem because you feel guilty just for looking at diapers and just fantasizing about using them (a pack of diapers for infants has the pictures of childs, but you feel like one of the childs). Before this I had a natural magnetism for children, my parents used me as a nanny for the children of their friends and I always 'entertained' them, because I was one more of them, just bigger and with more responsibilities. But this fear started to affect my interactions with the children near me. And this worsened as I grew older and the age difference was more pronounced. At this time, I had another two new cousins, with 10 and 12 years of difference from me, so at this time they were little and I had fear of being called pedophile when I never would do anything similar. I avoided being with them, just so If in the future I was discovered, my uncle would never be capable of doing anything to me.
I had moments where I was feeling more adventurous, and the curiosity just got the best of me. I wanted to learn all of the things that the people were saying. I didn't have a big understanding of the English language so some things were totally unknown to me. So I started looking for all the porn, and started to build my boundaries. I cannot stand cruelty (even if it is consented), I'm very empathic, so I can look and enjoy light bondage, but hard bondage/torture/sadomasochism is totally banned. Until I recognized and admitted to myself that I was trans, one dirty pleasure was sissy porn, but when I discovered this part of myself that type of porn wasn't the same, after that I changed the focus of my fantasies to reaffirm myself to stand against the world.
Another type of porn and the most important of all, was the babyfur. This was like I found the truth most deep within me. I was able to look at whatever I liked without feeling any guilt. Not only that, my soul tingled with so much cuteness. I found my paradise. At first I didn't know what my animal was, I like so many animals and I just wanted to be able to change forms!!! But at some point in some forums the people said that having a fursona that is a metamorph is not really part of the fandom, that got me a bit mad, but some of them presented valid arguments so I just waited to choose 'the right one'. A while later, I chose a brown bear, because I liked the feeling of the mother caring and protecting the cubs and being in peace in the forest without so many predators as the humans and other bears for territory. But when I started my transition as a trans woman, I changed my priorities and the symbolism of the bear wasn't as important as the feeling of my pride. I started to see the vixen as my symbol. I started my 'cunning way' of thinking, inspired by all my experiences and doing the things that I want, whatever I want... that's the goal, I want to be more strong to be totally free, even if I'm being called crazy or eccentric, this is my desire for the future.
At this moment, I cannot indulge myself freely in my desires, I need to live with my family because of job, monetary and mental health.
Several years ago, before starting my transition. I was in a deep depression. I lost my job. I lost contact with my friends as they progressed with their lives, changing countries, getting married and having children, the usual normal lives. I was never capable of ending any major education, I didn't even end high school, just the compulsory years. When indoor or outdoor places with too much noise, too many people for me, young adolescent guys that can trigger the bullying memories, or just any normally stressful situations... my anxiety explodes, without meditation it can bring me to have a panic attack. Finding a good enough therapist wasn't easy, because they only wanted to get their job done (diagnosis = PTSD = give him/her medication and if he/she can live it's ok).
Months after my transition, I wanted to be more trustful of the world. The reason was because I hated the world that I lived in, I just enjoyed my dream/fantasy world where I was able to create anything that I wanted with my fair rules. And that isolated me in my bedroom, I only came out when it was necessary. To eat, use the bathroom and basically survive. But after my transition, and telling the world who I was (well, I won't reveal that I'm a little vixen in public for now because that would not end well for me xD) I wanted to be more social, and that my therapist told me that the only way was by practicing. So I started to be more open, even to strangers. That was a big change for me. When I was waiting for a blood extraction for analysis, I met an old man that seemed harmless. His voice was tender, his look was not remarkable for an old man of that neighborhood, and he was waiting for the same as me, perfect chance to have a little inocent chat. He knew well about the neighborhood and was interesting, and he was not the first one to ask me about me being trans. My hair was growing, my face was androgynous, my clothes were unisex and I reduced my tone of voice a little so that it wasn't so deep. When it was my turn I got dizzy because of the blood extraction, that wasn't odd, I was on a diet and being on an empty stomach, all the people that were there found out about it (there is no privacy...) and the old man was one of them. When I was leaving, the old man asked me how I was feeling. I answered that I was fine and that drinking a bit of juice and having breakfast would be better. The old man invited me to that and I didn't think anything was wrong... just an old man being nice, a hope in the world. I don't really know how it happened, my memories of that conversation are all fragmented, I think that I really was more dizzy than I wanted to admit. We got to the bar, he got himself a cup of coffee (don't remember the flavor, I'm not a coffee girl) and myself got my orange juice (not my favorite, but they had freshly squeezed orange juice more often than others) and after leaving the bar we got to his house (I remember following him like a zombie), the next thing I remember seeing his bed and smelling cat shit (I remember seeing the turds too). I started to hyperventilate and needed to breathe air so I left to an opened balcony. I think that I scared the old man because I don't remember any conversation with him. I just remember staying 5 minutes on the balcony and leaving as fast as possible the house... that horrible house of horrors full of cat photos on the wall. After all that, I just think that he thought that I was a prostitute. But to me, this was a near rape encounter. And this just was a severe step back in my therapy. After that I lost my trust in my therapy and needed time to evaluate my thinking again... maybe I was right, maybe this world isn't worth it.
I changed a lot of therapists, and at this moment I have a good one that helped me greatly... I need to decide if I want to tell her about my infantilism or not. She was very open minded with the other things... but maybe this is something that changes the relationship with her and that will be the end of the therapy. The last year was very good for my health in general and I'm open to be social, one of the reasons to make myself an account here.
I hope that I didn't scare you with my intro, I will join the discord too, this post took me a lot to write.
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.. I'm quick , nervous and because of my alert state of mind , I can outfox the fox ! Not with cunning , but being constantly being aware of everything! 
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(happy Kitty tears) 
.. I deal with that positively (except sometimes excess alcohol to calm myself down , but I am slowly cutting down .) This makes it hard for me to relax at social situations, so I am mainly alone in life , but I am not lonely, I interact with others just enough to keep a balance. Adisc is very useful for me to keep in touch with humans ! (And foxes 
