I can trace my diaper fetish back to when I was 12 years old. My mother had just gotten a temporary job at my father’s work, helping do inventory and prepare for a move to a bigger warehouse. It was the middle of summer break, so Mom insisted that I go to daycare while she worked. I argued that I was old enough to stay home alone, but she was overprotective and insisted on daycare.
As much as I hated the idea of being in daycare at that age, I found there were a couple other kids my age that were really fun to hang out with and I started looking forward to it.
The second week there, I was out in the yard playing games and had to pee. I was winning the game though, so I decided to hold it until after. My bladder proved too weak, however, and I ended up running toward the house twenty minutes later, desperate to reach the bathroom. I didn’t make it – wetting my pants as I struggled to open the sliding glass door, which was jammed by a toy.
Julia, the lady that owned the daycare, responded to my knocking and found me with soaking wet pants. She was really nice about it at first, taking me to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and throwing my wet pants and panties in the washer. When she returned, she asked me why I didn’t have a change of clothes in my backpack. I told her I didn’t know I was supposed to have one and she seemed a bit perturbed.
I blushed bright red when she opened a cabinet in the bathroom and pulled out a diaper. She moved with purpose as she started to wrap it around my waist. To be honest, I was dumbfounded and didn’t even know how to respond, so I just stood there as she pulled it up between my legs and taped it up. I should point out that I was standing up the entire time.
The horror in my head must’ve shown on my face, because she told me it was just until my clothes were dry. When she took my hand and opened the bathroom door, I freaked out and pulled away. She told me that I could go lay down and take a nap if I was worried about people seeing me. Then she took me to the nap room, where she had small mats lined up along the wall. I laid down on the nearest one and pulled the small blanket over me. My intention was to just lay there until my clothes were done, but I fell asleep after fifteen minutes or so.
When I woke up, there were several other kids laying on other mats and I realized the blanket had come off while I slept. My diaper was clearly visible to everyone in the room. Embarrassed, I wrapped the blanket around me and went to find Julia. My clothes were clean and dry, so I went to the bathroom, took off the diaper and got dressed. I was still embarrassed about the entire situation, but happy to be back in my normal clothes.
Later that afternoon, while playing outside, a kid a couple years younger than me and my friends walks up to us and starts asking really blunt questions.
“Why were you wearing a diaper in the nap room?”
“Do you wet the bed? I haven’t wet the bed since I was six.”
“Did you pee your pants earlier?”
The other kids laughed at his questions and I broke down crying. It was easily the most humiliating experience of my life, because the other kids just wouldn’t stop teasing me about it. In fact, for the rest of the three weeks I attended daycare, the other kids would constantly tease me.
“Are you wearing your diaper, baby?”
“She’s just a little girl. She can’t play big kid games.”
“Watch out, she might pee on the slide!”
One of the girls walked up and handed me a diaper. When I crossed my arms and pulled away, she responded with “Not your brand?”
I was excited when the move was finished and mom stopped working. The daycare was near my dad’s work, so I didn’t have to worry about any of those kids going to school near me or showing up in my neighborhood.
As time went by, though, I started to think about and replay those events in my mind. What was originally a traumatic experience, became the foundation of a new desire for humiliation and embarrassment. I started to fantasize about being put into diapers and paraded around in public, as everyone laughed and teased me.
By the time I was an adult, all I could think about was diapers and humiliation. I went through several ABDL relationships, but quickly found that basing a relationship on a mutual kink interest isn’t the best idea. It wasn’t until I was almost 30 that I met the man I intend to marry. He is not ABDL specifically, but is definitely the daddy type. It took a bit for him to get used to the diapers, but now he says he loves the little extra bit of a control.
I couldn’t be happier.
Bethany P. – Texas