Name: Bob G.

This is my true story.

I was one of four children. I have an older brother, a younger sister, 
and a younger brother. Jean, my sister is 16 months younger than I am.

My mother decided that she was not going to have two children in 
diapers at the same time, so I was potty trained by the time I was 14 
months old. I believe that this was the beginning of my life long 
desire to be babied.

The earliest recollection I have is not that of wanting to be diapered, 
but to wear plastic pants. It was a warm summer day, and my sister and 
I, were outside playing with Gerry, the boy next door. At the time I 
was five, and Gerry was the same age as my sister, which was four.

After awhile, Gerry's mother came out with a jar in her hand. Rather 
than take Gerry in the house to use the bathroom, she was going to let 
him pee in the jar. She had him turn his back to my sister and I, and 
when she pulled down his shorts, we noticed that he was wearing a pair 
of plastic baby pants. I asked why, and she said it was to protect his 
shorts in case he had an accident.

After we had finished playing, we went back in the house, and the first 
thing I asked ask my mother was, if I could wear a pair of plastic 
pants like Gerry. She just kind of shrugged it off, and when my mother 
did that, it was an emphatic NO! There was no sense pushing the 
subject, because my mother was one of those who was going to be right 
come hell or high water. If I had kept at her, I probably would have 
ended up with a slap in the face.

About a year later, my mother was expecting another baby. One day, 
Gerry's mother, gave me two pair of plastic pants to give to my mother. 
She said "Since Gerry doesn't wear these anymore, maybe your mother can 
use them for the new baby." My mother wasn't home at the time, and I 
thought that this would be the perfect opportunity to try them on. I 
asked Jean if she would like to try on a pair of plastic pants with me, 
but she "No".

I took off my trousers, and underpants and pulled those wonderful pants 
on over my bare skin.

They were much too small, but felt so nice against my flesh. The fire 
of passion began running through my body, giving me a feeling that was 
both strange and wonderful, and I enjoyed every second. With my body on 
fire, I began to wet in the pants. After a small amount accumulated, it 
began running down my legs since there was no diaper to catch it. Jean 
was becoming frightened, and she begged me to take them off. I did, 
reluctantly. The thoughts of that day kept going through my mind, and 
more than ever, I wanted to be a baby in plastic pants again.

The new arrival in the house didn't help matters any, I started 
becoming jealous. Not because of the attention he was receiving, but 
because he was wearing plastic pants...MY PLASTIC PANTS... My mother 
and father named this new arrival, Rob, after an uncle.

For the next few years, I kept trying to find ways to be babied. Wet 
the bed, that didn't help, you only get a whack on the ass. Put plastic 
pants on, and let mother catch you. That didn't work either, she only 
made me to go upstairs and take them off.

I was about nine, Rob was four, and out of diapers. Then one weekend, 
Rob got a bad case of diarrhea. He had messed in his pants four of five 
times and my mother said "I can't take any more of this". I asked her 
what she was going to do and she said, "I'm going to put Rob back in a 
diaper and baby pants." She took Rob up to her bedroom and cleaned him 
up. Then she went to her dresser and took a diaper and a pair of 
plastic pants from one of the dresser drawers.

As she lifted his bottom, and slid the diaper under him, he began 
crying. When she put the plastic pants on him, his cries became even 
louder. She gave him a whack on the bottom, took him to his bedroom, 
and laid him in his crib. I started begging her to please put a diaper 
on me.

When I say beg, I mean it in the literal sense. I pleaded with her. I 
stayed with Rob for a awhile telling him how lucky he was to be back in 
diapers.

I again started begging my mother to put diapers on me, and she told me 
that she didn't have anymore pins. I asked "If I find some pins, will 
you diaper me?" She said "If you can find some pins that are big 
enough."

The first ones I found were too small, so I started looking all over 
the house. Not finding any that would do, I started going to neighbors 
houses, asking them if they had some safety pins my mother could 
borrow. After about an hour, I came with two nice, large pins.

I asked my mother to diaper me and she said, "not now". I asked her if 
she would diaper me after dinner, and got the reply that every child 
hates to hear. "We'll see after dinner."

After we finished eating that night, there were dishes to do, cloths to 
be ironed, etc. Each time I requested my diaper, the reply was always 
the same "not now, I'm busy." Finally it was time to go to bed, and I 
asked her again to please diaper me. She told me that she would never 
diaper me no matter how much I begged for it. I replied with "What if I 
start wetting the bed at night?"

She said "You do that and you won't be able to sit down for a week." 
Needless to say, I never asked her to diaper me again.

Just after this, my aunt had a baby girl. They lived very close to us, 
and I would go there often. I used to like to watch her change the 
babies diaper. Once I made the comment that her baby was very 
fortunate, because she got to wear baby pants. She shot me a weird 
look, and I decided not to comment any further, but I continued to 
watch the diaper changes when ever I could.

The next big event happened when I was eleven. My mother sent me to the 
store. While I there, I noticed a display of plastic baby pants. All 
different sizes and colors. I decided that I had to have a pair for 
myself. During the next few weeks, I saved every penny I could, until I 
had enough to make that much wanted purchase.

If I went to the store for any reason, my eyes would always wonder to 
that lovely display, checking sizes, colors, and how much they cost. 
After a few weeks, I had the money I needed. Now I had to wait for my 
mother to send me to the store for something. I just couldn't walk into 
that small store and make a purchase like that, there would be too many 
questions.

The day finally came when my mother needed me to go to the store for 
her. While there, I picked up a pair of the largest pale blue plastic 
panties they had, and put them with the things my mother wanted. I had 
the money in my pocket, and would just add this to her change. She 
would never know the difference. The store keeper asked me who the 
pants were for, and my heart made a loop. I wanted to shout out that 
they were for me, but responded that they were for my aunt's baby. He 
put them in with the other things my mother had wanted, and I walked 
home a very happy boy. I finally had what wanted all these years.

When I got home, I went into the garage, and hid my new plastic pants. 
I went into the house and gave my mother the things she had asked me to 
get at the store. That finished, I went back out to the garage and took 
those wonderful pants out of their package, and put them in my pocket. 
I went back into the house, avoiding my mother, and up to my bedroom. I 
closed the door, and took off my trousers and underpants. I pulled the 
plastic pants on just as fast as I could. They were too small, and I 
had a hard time getting them on. At last they were pressing against my 
flesh, and the old feelings came back. I was finally back in baby pants 
again. I put my clothes back on over them. The feeling was as wonderful 
as I had remembered years before, and now I could have that feeling 
whenever I wanted it.

I went outside to play, and one of my friends heard the plastic pants 
rustling under my clothes. I really didn't care who knew it. When he 
asked me if I was wearing plastic pants, I told him yes.

When he asked why, I told him that he would have to ask my mother. I 
wanted her to know, but just couldn't get up the nerve tell her myself. 
I thought that if she knew how much I really wanted them, she might let 
me, or in fact, make me wear them. My friend wouldn't do it, and to 
this day, my mother still doesn't know that I was wearing baby pants 
whenever I could.

It didn't take long, and those wonderful pants soon broke out on all 
sides. I went back to the store on occasion but didn't see any pants 
that I thought would fit me.

I decided that if I couldn't have plastic pants, I would go to diapers. 
I thought about the diapers my mother had gotten out of her dresser 
drawer a few years before. There might still some there. I looked 
frantically every time she left the house, but I could never find any. 
As I think back on it, she probably used them for dust cloths since no 
one in that house had been in diapers for years.

Now what was I going to do? There were no diapers that I could find, 
and and trying to buy something like that at the store was out of the 
question. First of all, I couldn't afford it on my limited budget, and 
second, trying to get them into the house undetected, would be next to 
impossible. I knew that if I thought about it long enough, an answer 
would come to me.

I wasn't too long after that, the family made a trip to see my aunt in 
another city. It was about an hour by car, and we drove there a few 
times a year.

My aunt had four children, ranging in ages from about four to eighteen. 
The youngest, Steve still wore diapers at night. When it came time for 
him to go to bed, my cousin, Ginger, took him into his bedroom, and I 
followed. She got his diaper and plastic pants from a drawer, and laid 
him on the bed. While she was diapering him, he didn't make a sound. In 
fact, he had a smile on his face, and I could tell that he enjoyed what 
was being done to him. I knew the feeling. After she had finished, I 
told her that I liked to wear baby pants, and asked her if she would 
put a pair on me. She told me that plastic pants were for babies, and I 
was a big boy, and didn't need them. I pleaded with her, hoping that 
she would give in. Her reply was "If your mother says it's O K, I'll 
put them on you". Needless to say that I didn't ask mother. She would 
have died from embarrassment, and then, she would have killed me.

It was getting to the point where I had to do something. But what? It 
came to me one day after I had taken a bath, and was drying off. I hit 
me that the towel was like a big diaper. Not as soft, but in a pinch, I 
was willing to try anything. I proceeded to put the towel on me like a 
diaper. I had found the answer to my problem and my prayers.

When I say prayers, I'm not kidding the least little bit. I used to 
pray each night that my mother would catch me in my towel diaper, and 
get so mad, that she would make me wear real baby diapers. I can still 
hear the words I was hoping to hear her say "If you want to wear a 
diaper like a baby, then I'll put you in diapers like a baby", but it 
never happened.

I do remember one time when I was about thirteen. I was walking home 
from school, and I had to potty so bad that I messed in my pants before 
I got home. When I did arrive home, my mother was so mad she said, "if 
you ever do that again, I'll put diapers on you". I didn't make a 
comment, but knew now how I could get my diapers.

About a week later, I decided that the time was right. On the way home 
from school I messed in my pants again. I knew what was coming and I 
was very happy about it. When I got home, my mother hit the ceiling. 
Instead of a diaper, I got a good whack on the ass. When I reminded her 
of what she had said a week earlier, she just dropped the subject. I 
realized after awhile that she had said it to scare me. After all, a 
boy my age isn't supposed to want to wear baby diapers. Boy was she 
ever wrong.

I was just going to have to be happy with my towel diaper. Now I had to 
find some pins to keep it on. I looked high and low for days, but 
couldn't find any pins that I thought would do. So I did the next best 
thing. I would wrap my towel diaper around my bottom, and pull my 
underpants on over it. It felt nice to be diapered, but it stuck out on 
all sides. It didn't feel as good as a baby diaper, but it was better 
than no diaper at all.

After I finally found some pins, I was wearing my make-shift diaper 
almost every day. I would go the attic and put it on. It seemed like I 
was spending more time in the attic than any other room in the house. 
One day while wearing my diaper, something startled me, and I found 
myself wetting my diaper. It felt soooo nice. Afterward, I would hang 
it up in a secret place while it dried. I did this so often, that it 
was beginning to smell pretty bad, so I had to get rid of it. I would 
just go get another towel.

Another day, I was in the attic playing like the big baby I was, and I 
messed in my diaper. I decided to leave it on for awhile, and sat down 
on the floor. The messy diaper squished into my bottom, and I finally 
knew what it was like to be a baby again. This was the feeling I had 
longed for, but I still, however, had a very strong desire to wear 
plastic pants.

My mother started making comments that she couldn't find some of her 
towels. The thought never occurred to me that she kept track of such 
things. So, that ended my towel diaper stage.

I'm going to skip all the uneventful things that happened to me, and 
bring you up to the present. I married a woman, who turned out to be a 
real bitch. She married me to get away from her parents, but that isn't 
the real reason the marriage didn't last.

After being married for about two years, she became pregnant. We would 
go out shopping for baby things, like diapers, plastic pants, bottles, 
etc. Every time we went shopping, I would get a warm, secure, feeling 
around all those baby things. I was working nights, and when she would 
go out for awhile I would put on one of the baby diapers we had bought, 
get a baby bottle, and fill it with water. I was laying in bed one day 
acting like a baby, and she came in. At first, she just looked at me 
and laughed at her husband laying there in diapers. Then she got mad as 
hell, and told me that if I ever did it again, she would divorce me. I 
really tried not to wear diapers again, but it didn't last very long, 
and sure enough the next time she caught me, we divorced.

I started dating other women, and I have found that if a woman really 
loves you, wearing diapers and plastic pants doesn't really bother her. 
In fact, out of eight women I can remember dating, six of them also 
like wearing a diaper with me.

 I met my present wife, and told her my desires before we were married. 
She allows me wear my plastic pants, and diapers anytime I want. I just 
can't, nor do I want, to control what I have inside of me, and I have 
accepted the fact that I'll be in baby pants and diapers the rest of my 
life.

Notes: This was a story I included in as essay I wrote titled 
Paraphilic Infantilism, which by the way has been posted on the web, 
for which I have never received credit.

Thanks Bob G.