Here is my story. I hope it helps you with what you are trying to accomplish in helping others out.

A story that must be told.

This is my true story, the stuff in the story really happened. I write this how I remember it. Nothing is fictional or fanatisized.

First let me tell you about my family, I have four brothers and one sister. I am the oldest of the bunch. I was born in 1977 so at the moment I write this I'm 24. When my mom found out she was going to have my sister, she decided it was time to potty train me, as she didn't want to have two kids in diapers. Well I was potty trained at a very young age and I often had accidents in my pants. My mom forced me to wear diapers a few times as punishment. This is where I think my love for diapers started. The first time I can remember I was playing outside with some friends. We were sitting in the sand trying to make sand diapers. At some point a peed in my pants and I went into the house. My mom saw the wet mark on my pants. I told her I was just playing in some wet sand. She dragged me into my room and pulled off my pants and smelled my underwear to verify it was pee. She yelled at me and I was turned over and given a good spanking. The next thing I remember was her putting a diaper on me. I cried and told her I was a big boy. I then remember sitting on my bed in a diaper and my shirt, while my mom was vacuumed the hall outside my room. I was still crying and every time I saw her I would scream at her. She came in and slapped my mouth and told me to stop it and take a nap. She left the room and the next thing I remember was waking up and walking into the living room after my nap with my blanket. My mom was sitting on the couch so I sat down by her and started to watch Battle Star Galactica. I don't remember getting out of the diaper, but I do remember that night as I sat on the stairs playing with my AT-AT (imperial walker for those of you who don't know what an AT-AT is.) My dad came home from work and she made me tell my dad about the pants wetting and diapers. I don't remember his reaction. I think I was 3 or 4.

The next time I remember being punished in diapers was when I was around age 6. We were at K-mart shopping.My mom was checking out and I asked to go to the bathroom. She told me to hurry. In the front area of the store was a huge safe and I went over and tried to open it. I spent a few minutes there playing with the dial. The next thing I remember was my mom dragging me by the hand. We had just gotten to the store exit when I looked down to see a puddle forming at my feet. A check out girl came over with a role of towels in her hand. She told my mom not to worry it happened often. My mom took me to the car and told me to stay there, while she went back into the store. I sat there crying. My mom came back with another bag and we went home. I found out later the bag had diapers in my size in it, because I remember being held down by my uncle, while my mom put a diaper on me. A few friends came to my window to talk to me. I was in a diaper and T-shirt at the time and I remember having to explain to them that I had to wear a diaper and couldn't come out to play. Once again I can't remember how long I was in diapers or how I got out.

The next time came when I was about 7. We were at my grandparents house. The kids across the street had a lemon ade stand. We were talking to them and found out the reason for the stand was thay had just got a Nentendo (NES). We made a deal if we helped them, then we could play. We finally, finished with the stand and started to play on the NES. We were playing Super Mario Brothers and that meant it was going to be a long time till I got my turn. All my brothers and sister left because it was taking too long, but I didn't. After about an hour I started to feel the need to poop, I told the kid I needed to go to the bath room, but he told me if I left I lost my turn in line. My turn finally came about the time I needed to poop real bad. I just couldn't take it anymore, so I dropped the control and ran out of the house as fast as I could. About half way acrossed the street the poo came out in my pants and I decided to hide by a camper and a wall at my grandparents house. I knew I would get in trouble if I walked in with poopy pants on, so I decided to sneak into the house. Instead of going into the house I thought it best to change my clothes in their storage room that was connected to the garage. I planned on cleaning up with paper towels and then throw my underpants in the trash. When I opened the storage room door my dad and grand dad were there, so I quickly shut the door and and found a place to hide. An hour later they were still there when mom called me for dinner. I decided to just go into the house and walk quickly in to the bathroom. There I would take off the underwear and throw them out the window and then throw them away later. When I got to the hall my mom saw me from the kitchen and asked what type of sandwich I wanted. I yelled ham as I entered the bath room. I was in the bathroom about ten minutes when mom walked in and saw what happened. I was givin a bath and then taken to a room. On the bed was a diaper and a shirt, (I'm guessing the diaper was one of my brothers as he was a bed wetter and wore them to bed.) I was put into the diaper and shirt then I remember being told to go eat. When I entered the dining room, my grand ma commented, "I didn't know Tony was still in diapers." I ate my lunch and was told to go watch TV. My grandpa said the same thing when I walked into the living room. This is the last time I was punished in diapers.

Looking back I wish I would have told my mom I didn't want my big boy underwear back. Off and on I would find a diaper or make one to wear. I got caught a few times along the way. When I was ten, I found an old blanket and was trying to put it on like a cloth diaper when my mom walked in. She was angry and told me if I really wanted to be in diaper she could arrange it. I said no. I wish now I would have said yes. Another time when I was 12 I was using a towel as a make shift diaper when my mom knocked on my door. I just dropped the towel to the floor as she open the door. She thought I was playing with myself and grounded me. I spent the rest of the night crying. My next diaper experience happened when I was 14. My mom was cleaning my uncles house and ound an old bag of diapers he had used when he got hurt. I took one of them home and never has a diaper been used as much. I wore it to bed for about a month until it was unusable. When I was 15 I had another chance to get more from my uncle's house. I took the remaining two diapers.I spent the next few months diapered every night. I then started thinking that something was wrong with me and I tried to give them up. I did until, one morning. I was 17 and my wildest dream came true. I woke up to a weird feeling I was cold and WET!!!! I couldn't believe it. I wondered if I was becoming a bedwetter. I was hoping that this was true instead of the opposite. If I was a bedwetter then I really would need to wear diapers to keep my bed dry. (I say that because three of my brothers wet the bed and mom's solution to wet beds was diapers) I didn't wet again for about one month. My bedwetting became more frequent over the next six months. It was now happening three to five times a week. I was afraid to tell my mom. I wish I had told because I really did have a wetting problem that needed to be cured. I started to buy and wear diapers to bed at 18. I would wait until my family was sleeping and would put one on. I would get up really early and take it off before any one woke up. I came very close to telling my mom what was going on with me shortly afterwards but everytime the opportuntiy presented itself I chickened out.

I decided to research bedwetting and diapers on the internet first. It didn't take me long to learn that I was an AB/DL. I was a TB all those years and had no idea other kids shared my feelings. I spend all night on the net. My dad wondered what was so interesting that I would be up that late, so he looked at the history. BUSTED, I got the lecture of a life time and was grounded from the net. Later that night it dawned on me that I was in big problem I couldn't tell my parents I was a real bed wetter now, because they would think I was doing it on purpose just to wear diapers. Time passed and soon it was time for me to go on my preaching quest. I'm a very religious person and my beliefs gave me the chance to go out for a few years and talk about god. I wanted to leave, but I still had not told my parents about my bedwetting and the fact I was an AB/DL. I decided it was time to tell them so I spent about one week practicing what I was going to say. When the time came I left out the diapers and AB part. I just told them I was a bedwetter. They already figured that, but didn't know how to approach me. The last three weeks I was relieved. I didn't have to wait until every one was in bed to put on a diaper. I didn't have to lock the door. I didn't have to get up early and take it off. Best of all, I could just lay around my room in my favorite outfit. (a diaper, socks and T-shirt) My mom and dad still didn't know about my AB half but that was ok. I now had a reason to wear diapers. Then I went on my preaching quest. I was out about 6 months when my nightmare started. I noticed that I had gone several days and not wet the bed. I started to keep track of my wet and dry nights. After six weeks of remaining dry all night, I thought my reason for wearing diapers was slowly being pulled away from me. It was at this point in my life that I made the MAGA mistake of my life. There was a handicapped man in the congregation who used a catheter to urinate. I thought if I used one at night it would help me wet the bed. Then I thought "No that would take too long." One night my stress and frustration got to me. I had to have a reason to wear a diaper or I knew I would be asked to stop. I couldn't allow that to happen at all costs. If you don't like graphic stuff skip to the next line down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Here is where I made the MAGA MISTAKE. In a storage closet at my house we had a fish tank stored. The hoses on the pump were about the size of a catheter, so I took one and cut some sharp teeth into an end. Then I took the tube and put it into my penis all the way to the bladder. (By the way I have never felt more pain in my life) Once I got it to my bladder I twisted it around for about 2 minutes, which caused me to bleed out of my penis. I panicked and thought "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING!!! I pulled out the tube and with it came a small mound of flesh.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ You are most likely thinking "What an idiot.", but it was my dream to wear diapers and without a reason I knew there would be no way I could. So ask yourself if you had your dream be it money, or looks, or what ever would you not try anything to keep it. I did just that. For about the next week it hurt like hell to pee and when I did it was mostly blood. By second I was getting better and by the third week I was fine for the most part. My little stunt worked. I was now wetting the bed more frequent than I ever had i the past. At the end of the third week I woke up in pain one day. I thought I had just pulled a muscle in my back. I got up and showered hoping it would help. By the end of the shower I was on the floor crawlling back to my bed. I had to be rushed to the ER. There they found I had a severe bladder infection that spread to my kidneys. They told me that there were a lot of scars and that the nerves in my bladder were badly damaged from the infection. (I didn't tell them about what I did) They told me I would be a bedwetter for the rest of my life, and that I might loose day time control. I got better, but I still felt really bad about what I had done. One day I told the priest in the church what I had done. He said to me that we all do stuff to hurt our bodys. Some people smoke, some drink, some do drugs, and some just over eat. He told me as long as I had learned from it, I would be fine, and that we all make mistakes. He then told me about a doctor in the area he trusted, and told me to call him. I went to see him and the best we (me and him) can guess is I cut the muscle to the nerves. The tube (not being clean) let the bacteria eat at the nerves first. He told me there was not much I could do and that I would be in diapers full time within a few years. It turned out that he was correct in that diagnosis. I slowly lost all control and am now in diapers 24/7. One night as I lay in bed it dawned on me, the diapers were only part of a bigger picture. I am an AB and even though diapers play a big part of it they are not the only part. Today I find I'm in deeper then ever. I have to wear a diaper 24/7. My parents, friend and other doctors still don't know about the whole tube thing or me being an AB. At this point in my life, diapers have become a prison for me. I know a bunch of AB who wish for this, but PLEASE DON'T. I never wanted to be in them full time. Part time at night yes, but not full time. It is aweful. You have to change in public bathrooms and travel with more diapers than clothes. The sad thing is to this day all I ever wanted was for my parents to understand that I like to wear diapers and be babied every now and then. I just wanted to be loved for who I am. Diapers and my love of them have kept me out of trouble. You would think if a kid told his parents he loves wearing diapers, the parents would be happy. It is better then a kid telling there parents, "Hey I like drugs, drinking, partying, sleeping around, shooting, stabing, killing, joining a gang, gambling." Sadly more parents just get upset if a kid just wants to be diapered and babied. I don’t want to blame my parents. They are great, most of the time. I just wish they had understood about how much I needed them when I was a kid. Back to me. I am even more unhappy than ever. All I wish is to find someone to love me. It is hard to find that right person and even harder when you are in Huggies. I think by writting this it might help someone not make my mistakes. Not being able to confide in my parents directly led to the physical damage I incurred over having a real emotional need that needed to be fulfilled. I also hope there is someone out there for me who can understand a need so deep one almost killed oneself to keep it.