My very first memory is when I was four years old. I remember the 
very first thing my mom did each morning, is take me out of my crib 
after she herself was already up. Then she removed my extremely soiled 
baby clothing, throwing out the used twelve inch thick super-absorbent 
, plastic coated, disposable diaper with dark pink and blue polka dots 
along with Care Bears that are holding red, yellow, and blue balloons. 
She also put the used Gerber pull-on vinyl baby pants with Care Bear 
prints in the hamper.
	She then gave me an extremely hot, but tolerable, Vicks vapor 
bath. She dried me off, and then put baby oil and lotion all over his 
body. She placed me on the changing table, and fastened the safety 
strap across my tummy, securing me in place. She replace my twelve inch 
diaper, liner, and diaper doublers, and drew it up between my leg fast 
making a loud crinkling sound because of the plastic coating on the 
diaper. She fastened the tapes in place.
	She reached then for a pair of Huggies convertibles that have 
Care Bears on them, and puts both of my legs in the leg holes at the 
same time. Pulling them up over the diaper easily, making sure she put 
in a diaper liner and diaper doublers. She put both of my legs through 
the nylon elastic leg bands holes of a clean pair of Gerber pull-on 
vinyl pants with Care Bear prints. She put them over the disposable 
training pants covering them fully and then puts me in my playpen. She 
hands me a bottle. It also has a Care Bear printed vinyl cover on the 
bottom.
	I can also still remember going to the city dump with my dad. As 
he was sifting through the garbage I was on the outer edges of the pile 
looking for plastic pants to put on. When I finally found a pair, I 
went to the pick up, and put them on. My dad would find them, and he 
would always rip them to shreds. I started doing this because the night 
before, he had rubbed my poopy underwear in my face, while I was on the 
toilet wearing nothing. The plastic pants on the floor by my side.
	Before I was six years old I can still remember when my foster 
grandma punished me with putting me in diapers. I was sitting in front 
of the TV watching a cartoon, along with my foster grandmother when she 
confronted me about why I got off at my friends bus stop instead of my 
own. She looked at me, and then told me if I was going to act like a 
baby, I would be treated like one. She dragged me back to her bedroom 
and laid me on her bed. The other children were watching while she got 
a box of baby supplies out. Then she put a pair of Gerber pull-on vinyl 
pants on me. Then came the cloth diaper over the pants. I could feel 
the pricks of needles as she fastened them into place. Then she hit my 
mouth, causing a tooth or two to come out. I cried while she put me in 
a crib.
	I awoke the next morning to find my pants dry, sleeping in my 
normal big boy bead. She handed me a baby bottle, saying she ought to 
make me go to school that way.
	After moving into Corbitt Cottage I was feeling like I had lost 
something. Because of my experiences with my foster grandmother, my 
dad, and also what I think my mom always did every morning. I asked my 
counselor for plastic pants to wear not seeing what the other children 
would think, say, and do.
	One day a new kid moved in the cottage who had bedwetting 
problems. He hated and refused to wear the plastic pants that had been 
packed with him. He threw them out the window onto the lower roof, 
after offering them to me first. I refused, his name was Tom Rober.
	Years later I started cutting diaper ads out of magazines and 
wanted to wear plastic pants. I thought I might as well wear disposable 
diapers too. I started shoplifting plastic pants in an effort to 
accomplish my goal. It got to the point that the very thought of 
diapers and plastic pants would cause an erection, and I had just 
learned how to masturbate with water. I started substituting diapers 
and plastic pants instead of water.

Bryan Below Age Six