Gregg's Testimonial

Posted 03/29/01

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have a fascination with wearing diapers. I was potty trained at age 3 and never had a bedwetting problem. However, I did have a twin brother who was in diapers until 6 years old, due to being born with cerebral palsy. He was intelligent, but has always been confined to a wheelchair. He always went to special schools for handicapped kids and most of those kids were always in cloth diapers and baby pants, even if they could walk. I would spend my school holidays and vacations with my brother at his special school. We were very close and I enjoyed helping the other handicapped kids during their school day. My favorite part was watching them have their wet diapers changed by the school staff during the day. But, I was hooked on diapers way before those days at my brother’s school, so being around all those big kids in diapers was my favorite place to be.

I’m 52 now, and I’ve always worn, and preferred cloth diapers and plastic pants. I’m diapered 24/7, by choice. But, I really can’t help it. I’m a successful business professional, but living without diapers was never a choice in my mind. I’ve gotten so used to wetting my diapers that I’m virtually incontinent (I only use them for wetting) and can’t trust myself to stay dry anymore at all. That’s fine with me, though, as I never have to worry about making it to the restroom in an airport or office. No one knows of my “special underwear”, and I’m very discreet about it. After all, it’s none of their business. I also sucked my thumb in my sleep until 11 years old, too. I always woke up with my thumb in my mouth and usually had to rush to the bathroom to keep from wetting the bed when I woke up. I never did, wet the bed, but as I look back on it now, I wish I had. Then I could have been in diapers at night, and maybe even during the day, too.

My first diaper experience was with some of my old diapers at age 7. I had been watching a lady hang a huge supply of cloth diapers on the clotheslines by the laundry room in our apartment complex. I had seen lots of diapers and baby pants on the clothelines every day, and I had even walked through the clotheslines rubbing my hands and face against the soft, dry cotton Curity diapers. I didn’t know why, but my little boy weener would always stand straight up whenever I saw diapers anywhere, so actually touching them and enjoying the sweet, clean fragrance of those freshly washed and sun-dried diapers put me on Cloud 9. I probably couldn’t have told you my own name while surrounded by those rows and rows of bright, white cotton diapers. I also loved to touch and smell the various styles of baby pants hanging next to those diapers, and I especially liked fondling the Toddler-size Gerber pull-on and snap-on baby pants. One day I decided to search our apartment to see if I could find any old diapers that I could try on. I found some in the back of the hall linen closet and my heart was pounding harder than I had ever experienced before. My mom was at work everyday and we had a next door neighbor who checked on us every 30 minutes, so I knew I would have some time to wear them without being caught. I put a couple of 20”x41” Curity diapers together and folded them to fit me. I found some safety pins in my mom’s bedroom and managed to pin the diapers on while lying on the living room floor. My twin brother was sitting in his wheelchair watching TV and he thought this was a very funny site to see. He promised never to say anything to the neighbor lady, or to our mom. I really wanted to wet those diapers, but I didn’t find any plastic pants, and besides, I was too “excited” anyway. I did this several days after school until I finally managed to wet the diapers by forcing some pee out of my “excited” little weener. It was just a few drops, but it was enough to send me into a state of extreme bliss - I was in my own personal “heaven”!

Being only 7 years old, I wasn’t aware enough to wash and dry my wet diapers, and I was already too afraid of being caught by our neighbor lady. After a few times of repeating the forced wetting of my diapers and stashing them back in the linen closet until next time, the diapers began to emit a noticeable odor. It was a Saturday morning when my mom noticed the smell of those wet diapers in the closet and found them stuffed in the back of the bottom shelf. She asked me what was going on, as she knew I was the only one who could have been responsible for them. My brother had been going to his special school for 2 years and I had seen many, many big kids there, who still wore cloth diapers and plastic baby pants, so I told my mom that seeing those kids in diapers got me interested in seeing what it was like. Well, her reply was, "I'll show you what it's like right now. Take off your clothes and lay down on the bed." Of course, I protested and she threatened me with a spanking, so I cried and cried, but did as she said, while she got some fresh diapers out of her dresser (I didn't know she had more!). She folded the diapers and raised my legs to put the diapers under me and pin them snuggly in place. I guess she didn't mind the way my weener was sticking straight up and making an obvious bulge in the front of my diapers.

She made me get up and took me by the hand to the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. She made me stand in front of the mirror and said, "What a cute baby boy you are in your diapers. I think we should show your little friends outside what a big baby you are." I said, "No, I don't want to go outside!" but that didn't stop her. She took me by the hand and pulled me into the kitchen as I tried to resist, but it was no use. She handed me a bag of trash to take to the dumpster, and before I knew it she had opened the kitchen door and pushed me outside. My friends were playing right outside my door and they suddenly stopped everything and just stared at me wearing nothing but a cloth diaper. The silence was broken by some giggles, as I made my way past them to the dumpster about 200' away. Feeling the babyish thickness of those cloth diapers between my legs, I waddled my way back to our apartment empty-handed, while everyone watched. I was still sniffling from the crying I had done while being diapered, so I guess my friends figured I was being punished for something, like bedwetting or pants wetting, or for some other transgression. My mom was known for being strict, anyway, as she would yell to the neighborhood kids for playing on our back porch or making too much noise. My friends never said anything about seeing me in my diapers, but I'm sure they thought I always had diapers on under my jeans or under my pajamas at night.

She only made me wear those diapers for about 30 minutes, while I sat on the living room floor watching cartoons with my brother. He never said anything about my diapers. My excited weener never did subside for the whole time I was diapered, so I didn’t wet them. Besides, I was terrified that I was never going to be allowed out of diapers again, so I really didn’t think about wetting them anyway, for fear of being sent outside again, only this time with wet diapers for my friends to see. But, looking back on it now, I wish I had wet those diapers. I realize what I really wanted was to be kept in diapers and baby pants like the other big kids I knew at my brother’s school and I had missed my chance to purposely wet myself so my mom would be forced to change me and keep me diapered. I guess that after spending 30 minutes in those diapers, she thought I had learned my lesson and took the diapers off. She never mentioned it again.

However, that was just the beginning of my diaper games. I immediately started stealing cloth diapers and baby pants from the clotheslines and hiding them in our carport storage cabinet behind our apartment. I learned how to wear them and wet them, and then wash them out in the bathroom sink and hang them from coat hangers in the storage cabinet so they could dry out while I was at school the next day. I did that until I got my own car and started going to college at age 18. In junior high and high school I used my backpack to smuggle fresh diapers into the house every night and then to smuggle my wet diapers out to the carport every morning. When I started driving, I managed to wash and dry my wet diapers at a laundromat whenever I had a couple dozen wet diapers to wash. I also made it through 4 years of college without anyone ever knowing I was diapered practically every single day! I even wore them under my high school and college band uniforms. I also trained myself to wet my diapers during the night, too.

To this day, my mother and brother know nothing about my constant diaper wearing, and that’s the way I like it. I’ve never regretted being in diapers. Everyone says I have a very child-like quality about me, which I’m sure is partly due to the overbite I have from sucking my thumb until I was almost a teenager. My mom never said anything about my thumbsucking, probably because she didn’t catch me doing it after our little diaper incident. I always managed to wake up and pull my thumb out of my mouth before she came into my bedroom. She once asked me when I was 13 if I wanted to have braces to fix my teeth. My overbite wasn’t that bad, and we couldn’t afford it anyway, as she was a single mother with a low-paying job as a switchboard operator at Sears. So I declined, but I still suck my thumb today, although it’s on purpose and mostly while watching TV, especially cartoons.

I think it’s important for parents to understand that there’s nothing “wrong” with enjoying diapers and “acting like a baby”. When I see those troubled young boys who hurt their friends and family members with guns, I know they are crying out for love. If they had been nurtured and maybe even “babied” more while growing up, they might have understood that nothing in life is so terrible that it can’t be helped by a little loving care and understanding. I’ve heard of a counseling technique that involves returning patients to infantile behavior, including wearing diapers and thumbsucking, to help individuals cope with stressful times and issues in life. It is even used as part of the training for those counselors who practice this method, and no one objects I have a personal friend who actually took a course that included learning this technique and personally experiencing it as part of the coursework. I’ve found my own diapered lifestyle to be very therapeutic and powerfully self-nurturing during troubled times. Nothing is as bad as it seems, once I curl up on the couch in my diapers and pop my thumb into my mouth while watching cartoons. Let your kids decide what’s right for them. If it’s not hurting anyone, “don’t worry, be happy”. If your kids are happy in diapers, you should be to. After all, there are a lot worse things they could be doing to themselves, and others!

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