Name: Calvin
Ages: 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18+
Current Age: 18

This is the honest truth about how I was raised in diapers:

I have been wearing diapers my entire life 24/7 with the exception of 
bathes, diaper changes, certain medical exams, and when I was being 
punished. I should probably tell you now that the truth of my story is 
in many ways more bizarre than anything I could make up. The first 
bizarre fact that makes my story what it is, is that both my parents 
have been wearing diapers as long as I can remember. My dad is a diaper 
lover and my mother is an adult baby. I can't imagine that to people 
like that would find each other before the Internet, especially in a 
city of 45,000 in which they lived. My mother is a teacher at our local 
college and my father is computer technician for a major insurance 
company.

The first thing I can remember about my life in diapers was at the age 
of 6 when my younger sister, who was 5 at the time, asked why we were 
still wearing diapers when our neighbors and friends didn't. Our 
parents sat down with us in the living room and explained to us that 
some people choose to wear diapers and others choose not to wear them. 
Our parents wanted us to have the choice to wear diapers or not to wear 
diapers because they did not. Now, I didn't realize at the time why the 
choice was so important to them, although I do now. The only other 
thing I remember from when I was six that is relevant to the story is 
that I decided to stay in diapers, and my sister, who had friends 
pressuring her, decided not to stay in diapers. My sister, Kelly, was 
accident free 24/7 by the time she started Kindergarten.

My parents and the school nurse helped my keep my incontinence (as she 
called it) quiet until I was about 10 years old when my sister 
unthinkingly mentioned that I wore diapers to one of her friends in 
school who had a sister in my grade who proceeded to tell her friends 
and so on until everyone knew that I was still in diapers. She felt 
guilty about it for years after it happened. Within a month of everyone 
finding out I dropped out of public school for three years. I was re-
enrolled in a private school for kids with disabilities. Most had 
learning disabilities like blindness and deafness, and some had 
physical disabilities like seizures, paralysis, missing legs, muscular 
problems, etc. Very few were truly slow people. Some were in fact quite 
intelligent and they were all accepting people. It was here that I met 
my best friends to this day: David, who had been partially paralyzed on 
the left half of his body since birth (I always forget what it's 
called), and Adam, who was incontinent from a childhood accident. Both 
were very intelligent people who, like me, just didn't fit in quite 
well with the "other kids" as we called the kids who made fun of us at 
public schools.

By that time, my parents had made my sister start changing my diapers 
as her punishment for exposing me at school and for becoming 
increasingly more arrogant around me because she didn't wear diapers. 
Little did she know at that point in her life that she was the only one 
in family who wasn't wearing diapers. By the time I started at the 
Private School, Kelly was changing me everyday before and after school. 
I was very reluctant to let her change my diapers at first but my 
mother told me that in her house, I followed her rules. I of course put 
up a verbal fight with her, having had a taste of independence when she 
stopped bathing on my 10th birthday. The argument didn't go my way at 
all. That night was the first time my mother ever used my diapers to 
punish me. She did so by taking them all away. She left me with only my 
plastic pants to wear for the entirety of that Saturday. If I made a 
mess anywhere in the house whether pee or poop I had to clean it up. 
Thus I ended up spending most of the weekend sitting on a toilet 
pouting like a toddler.

Saturday night my dad came home from a business trip and was in a good 
mood until he heard about my unruly behavior and the way I was being 
punished. My sister was over at a friend's house for a sleepover. I 
remember my dad taking my mom into their bedroom and overhearing him 
scold her and say something like "You've been a bad girl." A minute 
later I heard load smack come from their room that was repeated several 
times. I heard my mom sobbing quietly between smacks. I was disturbed 
to say the least, so I slid on my last pair of clean plastic pants and 
to tide me over long enough to sneak up to the only half closed bedroom 
door where my parents were. What I saw changed my life. On the bed was 
my mom wearing only a shirt (and bra) getting her diaper changed by my 
dad. The wet terry diapers that she had been wearing previously were 
rolled laying on the floor next to the bed. As I recall, she was still 
sobbing softly and her eyes were wet with tears but she seemed happy as 
she watched my dad diaper her. They were talking about me through the 
whole process. It wasn't until my dad was sliding on the pull plastic 
pants over my mother's fresh diapers that it occurred to me why she 
always changed into knee high dresses within 15 minutes of dad getting 
home when she wore slacks to work every day. As I was putting all these 
things that my mother did at home over the years together my mother saw 
me at the door.

To make a long story short three important things happened that night. 
The first is that I found out my dad liked to wear diapers and did so 
24/7 because he had slowly lost bladder control. I found out that my 
mom liked to act like a baby from time to time and wore thick terry 
diapers at home every night and on weekends while my dad changed her 
and gave her bottles and toys to play with at night when my sister and 
I were sent to bed early for what seemed like no apparent reason (until 
now). The second is that my mom would never take my diapers away again 
as long I followed a few simple rules. The third thing that happened 
that night was the creation of some new rules for me. The first was 
that my sister would be the only one who could diaper me at home until 
I turned 14 unless no one else was available (this would force me and 
my sister to get along or this rule could become miserable for the both 
of us). The second rule was that from now on I would wear terry cloth 
diapers from 7:00 PM to 7:00 AM every day. The third rule was that I 
was not allowed to change myself under any circumstances until I turned 
18. The fourth and final rule was that I had to keep what I knew about 
my parent's personal lives secret from my sister as well as anyone else 
who didn't already know about it.

Well, from then on until I hit puberty life was good and my comfort was 
defined by the state of my diapers. By the time I turned 14 and my 
sister was no longer required to diaper me, diapers had begun to 
develop a new role in my life. I had begun growing pubic hair about 
this time and my parents, having changed my wet and messy diapers for 
14 years, wear getting a little lazy about changing me. After I messed 
myself and waited for as much as an hour for a change, all I got in the 
way of clean up was a quick once over on my poop-smeared behind and 
lean amount of baby powder from my sister, and not a whole lot better 
from my mother and father. By the time I was 15 and had a full bush of 
hair in my diaper area, what was at that time a chronic diaper rash had 
developed into a full-blown yeast infection. When I finally worked up 
the courage to ask my parents to take me to the doctor, the situation 
had come to a head. It was that first time I had ever told my parents 
they can stick their diaper change rules right up their asses. My sex 
organs, which I only saw about 15 minutes a day, felt like they were 
falling off. My crouch smelled like sourdough even 5 minutes after a 
shower.

After it was all said and done, the rules were completely removed by my 
16th birthday as was my yeast infection and my self-disgust. It was a 
good thing too because I had met a girl at the private high school I 
was attending. I was changing my own diapers now and deciding how many 
and what kind I was wearing. I had gotten to a pretty effective 
schedule by my sophomore year in high school. First thing I would do 
upon waking every morning is I would take off my terry night diapers 
and plastic pants. Next, I would give myself a 3-quart warm 10% salt-
water enema and retain it for several minutes. My sister usually came 
in at about the time I was finished taking in the enema and 
occasionally help me be squeezing the bag to get the last of it in 
before showering herself while I sat on the toilet waiting until I had 
to expel. Kelly had really mellowed out by that point and, although she 
didn't respect my choice to wear diapers at that time she did respect 
my right live with my choice. Thus, she had stopped teasing me except 
in a playful manner from time to time and she stood up for me in front 
of her friends. However, she still (as far as I know) did not know 
about our parents' lifestyle. Anyway, retaining the enema was a 
challenge in and of itself because I had never trained my anus to stay 
shut. It wasn't until I found an enema tip that had the double 
inflatable bulbs that this problem was a solved. Once my sister was out 
of showering and shaving my face and every inch of my diaper area. Then 
I would cut slits into the back of an Abena Abri-Form Medium X-Plus 
before applying a thick layer of Nursery Petroleum Jelly over my entire 
diaper area including my hips and butt cheeks, penis, scrotum, and anus 
as well as around my inner thighs. I would then tape on the Abena 
diaper as tightly as possible before wrapping duct tape around my waist 
at the top of diaper just above my hips to help keep it from sagging. 
Then I tape on a Molicare Super Plus Medium tightly over the Abena and 
secure it around my hips with duct tape as before. The last thing I 
would do is put on a pair of plastic pant that just barely covered my 
diapers and fit tightly around my thighs and waist to ensure that their 
were no leaks and minimize the crinkling sound the diapers and plastic 
pants make. This setup has lasted me as long as 14 hours but has never 
needed changing in less than 4 hours (unless I had a BM) except on very 
hot summer days when I drank a whole lot of water.

The last thing I do before putting on a loose pair of pants or shorts-- 
depending on the occasion-- is something that I learned on my own from 
experimentation as a boy pubescent young man. I pick up a bottle of 
Astro-glide and squirt a quarter size amount on my inner thighs were my 
diapers meet my legs. I then spread it around where the leg gather on 
the diapers and plastic pants rub my inner thighs to reduce friction 
make it more comfortable to walk normally. On days where I would be 
walking a lot I'd use Vaseline instead of Astro-Glide. After I was 
finished with this process I had one extra activity to do before 
dressing almost every morning. I would proceed to play a DVD 
compilation of all the ABDL videos (all girls; boys in diapers never 
really turned me on unless they were masturbating in messy diapers). I 
had collected over the years off the Internet and masturbate through my 
diapers until I climaxed. Then I would get dressed, eat breakfast, 
drink a large glass of Metamucil, and drive to school. I often sat in 
the parking lot for about half an hour and smoked cigarettes until 
school started.

At school the teasing had all but stopped. Growing up with the same 
group of kids in a town of 15,000 has the effect of making oddities 
like me wearing diapers old news. Not to mention that since I began 
deciding what diapers I wore to school, my diapers really only make 
themselves known by causing a bulge in my crotch and ass is when I sat 
down or when I bent over, respectively. But I learned just sit note-pad 
or whatever in my lap when sitting down in class if necessary and to 
crouch instead of bend over. When I got home from school I changed my 
diapers immediately because they were usually soaked by that time. What 
I changed into next varied depending upon what was going on that night. 
If my friends, David and Adam, and I were going out to do something 
that night, I would usually put on one Abena X-Plus Medium after 
applying a liberal amount of baby oil. In case I needed to change 
myself while we were out I always brought two extra Abena diapers, baby 
powder, and wipes along so I wouldn't have to run home to change. If I 
was staying home for the night I would change into 3 triple-layered 
terry diapers and plastic pants and then get out my "diaper pants" as I 
called them. They were 2 inches larger than my normal school pants, 
which meant they would fall off if I was wearing disposables. They were 
extra baggy, too, so my diapers wouldn't be as noticeable under them. 
Of course everyone in the house knew I was wearing them but I didn't 
like to make it too obvious that I was wearing diapers when my friends 
came over to play console games or when other guests came by the house. 
However, most of the people who came by regularly new the gist of my 
story anyway: I never was toilet-trained. It was my choice to continue 
wearing diapers.

If I was being grounded, my sister who got home about the same time I 
did, would change me into my night diapers as soon as she got home. My 
punishment usually consisted of her inserting how many suppositories 
she felt I deserved at the time into my rectum, which, when she was on 
the rag when I was being punished, could be as many as 15. Letting her 
decide how many to give me was in idea that my mom had; Kelly jumped at 
the chance to get even when she had a grudge with me. Then she would 
proceed to diaper me with 10 three-layered terry diapers (I usually 
only wore 3-4 to bed) using four locking diaper pins to secure each 
diaper tightly around my hips. When she was finished she would then 
have me stand up so she could pour baby powder down the front and back 
of my diapers because she refused to touch my diaper area after several 
times when I got an erection while she was rubbing baby oil into my 
skin. I was a little embarrassed to say the least. After patting my 
butt and crotch a few tapes to spread the powder around a bit she would 
put on my largest pair of plastic pants. These plastic pants happened 
to be locking plastic pants. After she had the pants locked tightly in 
place just barely covering all of my now enormous diapered ass, I was 
free to go about my business for the night. Needless to say, I couldn't 
really go anywhere because I couldn't get any pants on and I certainly 
couldn't invite anyone over while I was wearing poopy diapers. The idea 
for this form of punishment was my dad's. He came up with the idea of 
locking me in diapers that I would be forced to wet and mess without a 
change until my sister (the only person besides my dad who had the keys 
to the diaper pins and plastic pants) let me out of them in the 
morning. Of course my sister would never clean up the mess she had 
caused in my diapers the next morning. She would just give me the keys 
and say, "Have fun, poopy pants." The rash that several days in a row 
of this treatment would cause was a great reminder not repeat the same 
bad behavior...for a while.

I was almost 17 when started dating Sally, a 5'3" brown haired girl at 
my school. She made me look tall and I was only 5'10". It was...weird 
at first because I was almost certain she knew about my diapers while I 
prayed that she didn't. She was a very shy girl when we first started 
out by going to movies, restaurants and whatnot. She was by no means a 
hottie, but she was gymnast and thus physically fit. But what I liked 
the most about her was her smile and her warm-hearted demeanor. It 
wasn't until the night we went to watch The Two Towers that I found out 
the truth about her. I hadn't thought a head changed into a fresh 
diaper before going to dinner and then going to the theaters to watch a 
3 hour movie. About 2 hours into the movie my diaper hit the saturation 
point and I could feel the urine leaking through one of leg gathers on 
my diaper and my heart sank. I spent the next thirty minutes trying to 
figure out how I was going to explain to her why the seat of my pants 
was wet with urine instead of watching the movie. She must have seen me 
squirming in my seat at some point because she asked what was the 
matter. I lied and said I was fine. By the time the movie was over my 
diaper was soaked and their was a large dark spot on the seat of my 
pants. I said my prayers and got out my seat to leave the theatre 
praying no one, especially Sally, would notice. When we got to her car 
I sat down in the passenger seat carefully to avoid having any more 
liquid squeezed out of my diaper and onto her seat. When Sally sat down 
in the driver's side she looked at me and said something I'll never 
forget, "You know, you can't just ruin my seats because you're to 
embarrassed to tell me." I looked at her like dear at headlights 
waiting for the collision. "I know you wear diapers, okay. Your friend 
David told me a month ago; he's my friend too." I said something like 
"I'm sorry." but she wouldn't have any of it. She said she didn't care 
about it because she understood how I felt. She told me she suffered 
from enuresis on and wore diapers at night to keep from waking up in 
wet sheets every morning. I didn't believe her until she pulled out a 
Medium Depends diaper from under the back seat and handed it to me. She 
said she kept one in her car for emergencies and that I could use it 
until we got home if she could change me herself. I was a quite 
reluctant until she French-kissed me for the first time to shut me up. 
We had done normal kisses on many occasions, but that night in her car 
in a soggy diaper was the first time I had been French-kissed. She told 
me to take my pants off so I did. She grabbed a shopping bag from her 
back seat, took of my soaked Abena diaper and put it in the bag and sat 
it on the back seat. She then opened up the depends diaper and had me 
sit down onto it. By the time she was ready to tape it onto my hips I 
had a rock-hard boner and she just smiled and pulled out some hand 
lotion from her purse and rubbed it on her and then proceeded to give 
me my first hand job. When I was ready to climax she covered my member 
with the front of the diaper to avoid making a mess in her car. Minute 
of kissing later and I was ready to be diapered. When she was done I 
pulled up my pants and we talked about diapers throughout the drive to 
back to her house. Since then we have had a dozen sexual encounters, a 
few of which occurred while we were both in diapers. However, I don't 
think it would be appropriate to talk about them here. Suffice to say 
we have found many ways over the past year to make the best what is 
sometimes a debilitating lifestyle.