An expedition into my life as an ABDL
Welcome back! This series of write-ups was inspired by some journal posts a good friend of mine shared with me. After reading them, I decided I should document my own personal journey as a lifelong ABDL.
If you haven’t already, you might want to head over to read my first post in this series:
The middle years
From about the age of 10 or 11, my brother and I stayed home most summers. We had gone to YMCA summer camp the summer before, but money was tight for my family. We got by and always had the things we truly needed, but daycare or summer camp was likely too expensive for my parents at this point in their lives.
We lived a small rural community in the midwest. That probably made it easier to have kids stay home too; everyone knew everyone. Being at home we could help maintain the house (cook, clean, get the mail, etc.), mow the yard, and yet we could still ride bikes and go to the pool.
It was late summer; I was 13 years old. This one particular day, I remember coming across a dresser in our finished basement. It had been there for years. There really wasn’t anything special about it. It was about waist high, had three rows of drawers and was about five feet wide. The top row had three smaller drawers, all equidistant.
I had overlooked that dresser probably a thousand times for many years, but something about it caught my eye late that afternoon.
All those years I had never connected the dots that this dresser was really just our old nursery changing table/dresser with just the top trim piece and top changing pad removed. All that remained on top was a long white doily (my mom had doilies on everything).
I don’t know why I hadn’t looked inside this dresser before, but for some reason on this day I opened up the large middle drawer and discovered it was full of baby clothes. I’m sure this was a selection of clothing from when my brother and I were babies. The next drawer was more of the same, but in one of the smaller top drawers, I came across a single white disposable diaper.
My heart skipped a beat the instant my eyes made contact with it.
I remember looking over both my shoulders to make sure no one was watching (which was dumb, no one else was in the basement with me). I just stared at it for what seemed like several minutes but was likely only 10-15 seconds in reality.
After being infatuated with diapers for so many years, I finally worked up the courage to pull it out and unfolded it. It was an all white, plastic backed, disposable diaper. I have no idea what brand it was, but at that particular moment, I didn’t care. It had to be 10 years old or so. I particularly remember the leg gather detail when I carefully unfolded it. Of course it was way too small for me, but I didn’t care.
I had longed for a diaper for so long and here one was.
I closed the drawer and took the diaper into the basement bathroom. I closed and locked both doors. I pulled down my pants, unfolded the diaper and lined my underwear with it. As I pulled my pants back up, I found myself with an erection. Of course, as basic human male physiology dictates, wetting the diaper with an erection was very difficult. I recall being quite frustrated.
After a little time passed, I managed to somewhat wet the diaper. Despite the experience being different than than what I had envisioned it to be, it was still pretty great. A wet diaper. I had actually wet a diaper. I was on cloud nine, well for a brief few moments anyway…
After I disposed of the used diaper deep in the trash can in my dad’s basement workshop, I was almost instantly overcome with a sense of guilt.
I recall specifically feeling that I had just done something horribly wrong. I felt that I was severely broken both mentally and emotionally. I went to my room and cried for a long time after the experience.
I played back the whole encounter in my mind several times the remainder of that day and well into that night, even after I went to bed. I was so confused, ashamed and overcome with guilt by what I had done.
So much so, I didn’t think about a diaper again for quite some time.
Although I didn’t know the term for it at the time, this was my first experience with the ABDL binge and purge cycle.
Even though I grew up having desires for diapers,
I also struggled with occasional bedwetting. Diapers were amazing but the bedwetting was just an annoyance.
The bedwetting was never so bad that I was put back in diapers or pull-ups. This was most likely because my family probably couldn’t afford them and they were not as prevalent as they are today. By the time I was a teenager, I already had my own room in the finished basement and I gotten really good at changing my own sheets and just dealing with the accidents. Since my brother and I had already stayed home for several summers, I was already comfortable doing my own laundry.
I did eventually outgrow the bedwetting, but it was very late into my teenage years – probably age 17 or so.
Looking back, I guess if nothing else, bedwetting was a good experience for me learning how to clean-up and take care of myself. A skill I still use today…
In my next post, I will talk about life at college and my first exposure to kink.
What were your experiences growing up? I’d love to hear your stories in the comments below!
If you would prefer, you can use the Contact Rex page to send a message to me privately.
Hugs and crinkles,
Rex (BelovedRex)
