This is a true story of one boy's experience.

	In the early years, I had a problem at night. I 
remember these years all too well. My mother with her 
problems, my father with his. Mother used to yell a lot, 
saying how she wished that I was never born and that she 
hated me. My father used to come in at night while I was 
sleeping, yelling like a madman, and start beating on me , 
saying that I was no good and never be any good at all, and 
that I was a disappointment to him and my mother. "What's 
wrong with you?" he'd say.
	Sometimes his tender side would show. He would lecture 
me for hours, repeating the same things over and over 
again. My mother took me to the doctor for the wetting 
problem. The doctor told her that some boys have this 
problem for years, and there had been substantial success 
with shock treatment. You guessed it, they went for it. 
This did no help, The abusive treatment caused me to become 
somewhat withdrawn, keeping to myself more now.
	When I was in third grade my mother could not take 
anymore. Out of desperation, she stripped me naked, put a 
diaper on me and made go outside. I still remember this as 
if it were yesterday. The boys from next door asked what 
was wrong with me. My brother was all too glad to 
volunteer, and the story of wetting and wearing diapers 
spread like wildfire. What friends I had were gone. I was 
embarrassed, humiliated like this really hurt, what self 
esteem I had was now gone. At least I thought that. I 
started to wonder what was wrong with me.
	I became more withdrawn, this did not help me to grow. 
School was a problem. Around this time I started to 
experiment with diapers and plastic pants( diapers ,pillow 
cases, towels, multi-pairs of underwear) anything that 
would help me hide the problem.
	I grew accustomed to wearing diaper at night. Sometime 
I would be in a hurry getting dressed in morning and would 
pull my pants on over diaper forgetting all about it. And 
off to school I would go. This started me on diaper 
dependence. I must admit I enjoyed the warmth, comfort and 
security of the diapers.
	When I was ten, we were visiting my aunt's and uncle's 
house. My mother told me to go lie down and take a nap. I 
did and of course, I fell asleep and wet myself. When 
mother saw this she crazily stripped me down, put a diaper 
on me and got a baby bottle and made me run around dressed 
this way the rest of our visit.
	Of course everyone was having a good time taking 
pictures, etc. This reinforced my diaper dependence. When I 
earned money I would buy diapers and plastic pants. From 
then on I wear them almost always. My mom found them, she 
told my father. His reaction was mixed, He again lectured 
me , telling me that I would never be any good , that I was 
sick an should be in a special home. After that no more was 
said about the diaper or my problem.
	The pressure was now somewhat off me, now on that 
account, I started doing better in school. I was still shy 
and lived in my diaper world. I had a few more friends. 
P.E. was problem when I forgot about the diapers, but after 
a few times I learned not to wear them on P.E. days. When I 
was 11 or 12 I had a sexual experience in my diaper. I 
enjoyed it; the diaper caressed my bottom, my thighs 
tingled, and my hero got hard. At first I did not 
understand this feeling, but before long I knew too well 
the joy of copulation in the diaper.
	When I was 16 I moved out of the house, lived with 
some friends for a couple of years and finished high 
school. My friends never said anything about the diapers. 
Either they did not know or did not care. Anyway, they were 
my friends, that's all.
	When I turned 18 I met a girl, fell in love and got 
married. She knew about my problem and the diapers. She 
said she loved me and that was all that was important. The 
next year we had a baby. I wore diapers full time and went 
to college. After a couple of years, she left me and moved 
back with her parents. She told me, she never loved me and 
all she wanted was a baby, and that she did not want two 
babies in the house. My world fell apart.
	Later I learned to accept the things I cannot change 
and to move on with life, and that its was okay to be just 
me.