Posted by I08MHz on December 14, 1998 at 22:53
[I have always loved watersports. I like watersports more than I like diapers, but because diapers played a very large role in my life, and a very large role in my becoming a watersports fan, this story deals with a lot of diapers. It is the true story of my life. This is the first time anyone has known the absolute unadulterated truth (as you will find out when you read the story). This is it; I'm finally coming clean.]
I do not know how it started. As long as I can remember I have had a thing for diapers. My first memory of anything similar is one of my first memories at all. I remember siting on the floor, my sister sitting on the back of the couch in front of me. I remember feeling something funny, and then my sister saying, "MMMMMMM, you're not supposed to do that anymore!" I do not know my exact age then, but it was maybe a day or two after I began potty training. I only have one other memory before that, but that is not important. The point is that one of my first consciously remembered experiences triggered a very substantial part of my life today.
After that, my next water-sports related experience was with a friend named Nick. We were both cared for by the same daytime baby-sitter before pre-school. We would sit in the back yard and make up stupid stories that all dealt with diapers. One of our favorites that we used to act out was that a giant had eaten us and we went through its digestive system, eventually arriving in the baby giant's diaper. The thought of it now is rather embarrassing, because we shared this story with several middle school and high school students.
At night (from pre-school on), in bed, I would often fantasize different stories that related with similar topics. At this time, of course, I had no interest in sexual feelings (I still do not know what my drive was back then, I think maybe it could have been attention). Still, around the time of first grade, I half-heartedly decided to attempt to make my parents put me back in diapers. For several nights, I made attempts to wet my bed. For a six-year-old who had never in his conscious recollection wet the bed, it was extremely difficult, and it took an entire day of holding it before I had success. I wet the bed on purpose and soon, because it was uncomfortable and started to itch, I went out into the living room and told my parents, "I just woke up to go to the bathroom and my sheets are wet; I think I wet the bed."
The next moment changed my life forever.
My mom was very supportive. She washed my sheets, advised me to take a shower, and kept it a secret. My dad, however, got a look on his face that looked like ultimate disappointment. He did not say a word; he just looked at me with that look. The look still eats at me today, and is one of my most vivid and saddest memories of my life. For the next three years, I kept my fantasies to myself, and I did not even fantasize them as much anymore.
[A point of interest: the next day, my sister and her friend approached me and asked me if I had ever had a wet dream. Not knowing what a wet dream was, and thinking she was referring to wetting the bed, I defensively said no. She said that she wondered because she had been in the laundry room and had felt my wet sheets. She added quickly for me never to tell Mom that she had asked me that question. I never did.]
After the family made a big move, my interests in diapers resurfaced. This time they were starting to become associated with my recently discovered sexual feelings. I began fantasizing on a regular basis every night. Finally, I decided to experiment a little. I started by first peeing in the toilet through my underwear. It felt amazingly good. I slowly worked my way to peeing through my bathing suit, and then through old pairs of shorts. I tried messing in my underwear once, and it felt good, but I found the clean-up too disgusting and time consuming, so my interest in that faded quickly.
Now through this all, I had been an avid soccer player. The normal soccer uniform that I wore was a shiny nice feeling shirt and a cloth soccer shorts. One day I found out that my team was getting new uniforms. This included the soccer shorts that looked like they were plastic (nylon based shorts). I was extremely excited because I thought they might be waterproof and that I might be able to use them similarly to plastic pants or a diaper. When I got them, I immediately went to my bathroom to test them. I was very disappointed in their apparent lack of ability to block moisture.
After my parents got divorced while I was in seventh grade, I was forced to live with my father. Every week, however, I would go with my mother to choir practice. While she was singing, I soon discovered that I could enter the nursery and there I could find diapers. I stole one and wore it on several occasions (it, of course, did not fit me, and so I would position it in my underwear so that it would cover my genitals). I was careful not to use it until the next week. It felt great. It was amazing to me because I knew I was wetting my pants, but it was not showing like it did normally. That did not last, as the diaper soon overflowed, and I had to frantically stash the soiled pants in my closet (for some reason I had the idea that I could ring the diaper out and reuse it. It would have been nice, but it did not work).
After that I was hooked. I began to plan how to by a pack of diapers myself. After almost a month of carefull planing, I told my dad that I was going on a bike ride, and left to go to the closest grocery store (about two miles away) with money in my pocket. I got there, and bought the diapers. Unfortunately for me, I got lost on the way home. It was several hours, and almost dark, before I was on the right track home, and suddenly a car pulled up beside me.
Never before had so many horrible thoughts gone through my head; it was my dad, and he was mad. I had, before I left the store, hidden the diapers under my coat so nobody I knew would see me with them. It paid off. It was not until we had arrived home that my dad noticed the bulge in my jacket. When he questioned me about it, I ran up stairs yelling it was nothing. At first he thought that it might be his Christmas present (it was that time of year), so he sent my sister up to question me through my locked door. When I refused to talk, he came up and forced his way into my room.
By this time I had already hidden the package in my room where he would not be able to find it, but that did not stop him from looking. When started getting uncomfortably close to my hiding spot, I stopped him and stepped between him and the hiding spot. He stopped looking, and what followed was as close to the "father-son sex talk" as my dad ever got. He just sat there guessing what the illicit item could have been. The truth be told, if he had guessed it, I would have told him the truth. But he did not, so neither did I. But through the entire conversation, he was giving me the look he had given me so many years before, so after that incident (and after I had used all 18 diapers), I gave up my diaper fetish.
Until I got a new step-mom. When I found out that she had been a bed wetter, that she had a daughter that had been a bed wetter, and that she had a grand daughter that still was a bed wetter, I tried again what I had tried and failed to do so many years ago. I told my step-mom that I had recently been having bed-wetting problems, and that I did not want my dad to know because I was afraid he would be disappointed in me. She said that she would wash my sheets for me if it happened again, so I started to wet the bed again. It was a great time. I had never been so satisfied to that point. But what happened next was even greater.
After a week, my step-mom had become weary of washing my sheets, so she told me that if it ever happened again, she start making me wear diapers at night (I had a feeling this would happen, as I had heard that her daughter was forced to wear diapers at night until she was 18, I was 15 at this time). The next night I promptly wet the bed again and the night after that, I came home to find a package of Depend, overnight briefs and a package of Depend under-pads. She showed me how to put them on, and I pretended like I didn't want to. I hope she did not see the bulge in the front of my pants that had formed just from looking at the package.
After that, in the mornings, since my dad was always gone for work, I would walk out and eat breakfast in the kitchen with nothing but a tee-shirt and a diaper. My step-mom did not mind.
A couple of weeks after that, I decided to do the unthinkable. I decided to stage a daytime accident. I made sure to hold it the entire morning. When she drove me to school, I told her to hurry because I needed to use the restroom really bad. She didn't hurry, so I took the chance. As we pulled into the parking lot of the school, I gave out a desperate "hurry, hurry, hurry" and then gasped an "Oh my God". I wet my jeans in her car.
Now I had never seen my step-mom angry, but at that moment I had never seen an angrier person in my life (it was a brand new car). She took me home, told me to shower, then told me to put on one of the diapers. I was thrilled, until she told me the next thing. She told me that I was not allowed to go to any bathroom for any reason for the next two days. I was to use the diaper for both types of excretion, even at school. I was only aloud to change in my room. I was happy and devastated. I wanted to wear the diaper, but I was afraid of what might happen if I really need to go #2 and my step-mom was around. Any other time I would just go to a bathroom against her will. Luckily the situation never came up, and I was happy that I had been forced to wear a diaper during the day.
I didn't start dating until I was 16. My first girlfriend lasted an entire year. Near the end of the relationship I confessed to her my love of watersports (watching girls in desperation and watching them wet their pants), leaving out the diaper fetish, but adding that I wet the bed and my step-mom forced me to wear diapers. She didn't share my interests, and soon she dumped me for another guy.
I dated many girls after that, soon making it a practice to confess my fetishes near the beginning of the relationship. I was amazed at how many of them were receptive to it and even accepted it. Finally, during a long trip to Germany, I met a girl that I really liked. On the flight back from our school related vacation in Germany, I told her of my watersports fetish. She was receptive. After a month, she became my second girlfriend. Another month after that, she wet her pants for me for the first time. She said she had never heard of it before, but after I told her about it, she had done research on Patches Place and the Wet Set web site and found that she had begun to like what she saw. She said she liked the idea of doing something that girls like her would normally never do. She wet herself several times for me. She also shared some of my first true (two person) sexual experiences (In other words, I no longer had to masturbate). We split up when I moved to go to college. We still keep in contact over the web.
For a long time I feared I would become an adult baby (not that there is anything wrong with that, it just wasn't what I wanted), but now I realize that I only use diapers and pants wetting as a sexual aids, and they are really a small but important part of my life. I am now 19 and still in college in Central Texas, and I have finally come to grips with fetishes. I am glad there are places like Wet Set and Patches Place for me to go to when I'm feeling out of place in the world. I still have hopes of finding a woman who can accept who I am, will be a friend more than anything else, and then, only on the side, pay attention to sex and my (and hopefully her) fetishes.
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