Everyone has an origin story as unique and diverse as they are, and I’m certainly no exception. In sharing my ABDL origin story, I hope to inspire you to fully embrace who you are, and to live your own personal truth to the fullest.
I don’t remember much of my early childhood, and I don’t know how or why I’m an ABDL, although I have some theories.
My birth-mother was a 17 year old artist, and my birth-father was a transient with a leather jacket and a motorcycle. With my birth-father out of the picture and my birth-mother incapable of raising me herself, I was put up for adoption as soon as I was born.
After being put into foster care and spending 8 weeks with an interim family, my de facto parents adopted me (yes, they are my parents, even without a blood-relation).
I had a near picture-perfect childhood, with my parents raising me in a quiet middle-class neighborhood. I never went hungry, was sent to private schools, was never abused, and was always given more than my fair share of love and affection. With that being said, I can’t help but feel like my abandonment issues and desire to be mommied stem from my early experiences of being put in foster care.
The Early Years
I never had the experience many others have had (sneaking diapers from siblings or neighbors), but I did have a few weird quirks that in retrospect suggest that perhaps I was a little bit different.
Some of my fondest childhood memories center around playing house & doctor-like games with girls in the neighborhood. I have one distinct memory of being curled up in some bushes with my friend Katie, nestled against her chest. In that moment, I felt completely helpless and beholden to her, and the warmth and comfort that flowed through my being made me feel a tranquility I’ve been chasing ever since (though taking Ecstasy comes close).
While hanging out with neighborhood friends, I would get a certain secret thrill from catching a glimpse of their sister’s bedroom, or theirs if they were a female. The more pink, girly and childish, the better. The thoughts I had in those moments weren’t necessarily sexual, or even directed at the occupants of the rooms themselves, but instead were ruminations about how warm, comforting, safe and cozy it would be to curl up in their bed and take a nap, snuggled among their stuffed animals, fluffy pillows, and soft blankets. As far back as I can remember I’ve always had an affinity for stuffed animals and soft blankets, including ones with a more feminine or childlike aesthetic. I never expressed this publicly to anyone and would refrain from indulging myself until I had moved out on my own, due solely to the fear of being found out and thought a sissy.
Probably the biggest indicator I was a little (before I ever knew what “little” was) was that I played with and personified stuffed animals well past the point where other children had moved on from them. I had a little stuffed bear named Rambear, named for the fact that he had a military hat and bandoleer that was at one time filled with tootsie rolls. He was my constant companion well into my teens, and would be with me constantly at home. My shame prevented me from taking him outside the house, and to this day he lives in my parent’s guest room. I would have taken him when I moved, but I was ashamed.
Discovering My Sexuality
I first discovered ABDL when I was in my late teens, probably around 15 or 16, a few years after my parents first got internet in our house (now I’m really dating myself!). Shirley Manson of Garbage had done an interview in Rolling Stone saying she wanted someone to let her pee in their belly button! That could have been me!
“I want a man who will let me pee in his belly button. I want a man to accept the beast in me.” – Shirley Manson, Garbage
Thus I set down into an internet rabbit hole, where I discovered Patches Place, and then WetSet, where I first stumbled upon beautiful women in adult diapers. My initial reaction is best summed up through the comic panel on the right. I also did once end up letting the girl I would later lose my virginity to pee on me in the back of my 1985 Ford Escort, but that’s another story.
I continued browsing in secret for a few years, and this was long before Fetlife, Twitter, Tumblr or Instagram, not to mention the myriad of dedicated ABDL blogs, sites and products there are today. For a while it felt really lonely, and there were times when I convinced myself that there was no-one like me, not least of all in my own state or town.
Reaching Out To Others
Finally, I broached the topic during an online chat with a couple female friends, and after sharing a few images of women in diapers with them, they seemed open to learning more. At this point, I was about 19 or 20. I had barely lost my virginity a year or two prior, and I was on the brink of obsession due to a lack of indulgence into my growing fetish up until this point.
After chatting back and forth for a while, they made plans to help me indulge in my kink for the first time. Late that night they pulled up to my parents house and I snuck outside to the car. Waiting for me in the back seat was a package of Depends adult diapers. Both girls had already opened it and diapered themselves.
I did my best to put one on in the backseat as we drove around aimlessly. The night was largely uneventful, and there was no real interaction between us sexual or otherwise, though I do remember that I did wet myself that night, while standing at the soda fountain at a 7-11 or somewhere similar, if memory serves.
I felt an insane mixture of emotions that night: extreme sexual tension mixed with absolute terror. To make matters worse, my girlfriend at the time was not one of the two young women involved in this story, and when she got word of it a night or two later all hell broke loose between us. She felt it was a betrayal of her trust to do such a thing with someone else, and she was right. My defense at the time was that since we didn’t have any sexual interaction, that it was OK, but she still felt betrayed.
Luckily for me, we ended up reconciling, and she became the first in a line of partners who were not ABDL themselves, nor even aware of it’s existence, whom I introduced to this lifestyle. I am so fortunate and happy to say that while not every partner I have revealed this side of me to has indulged in it to the degree I would have liked, each and every one of them has been loving, caring and accepting of it, and more importantly, of me, and I will always love each and every one of them for that.
The Seeds of Acceptance
One of those partners eventually went on to become my wife. I came out to her after we’d been dating for the better part of a year, and while she was taken a bit by surprise at first, she went with it. Truly, she was the first person who planted the seeds of self-acceptance inside of me, and I will never forget that. She did not fully understand the power exchange or the need for helplessness, but she encouraged me to be comfortable with who I was, to accept that I liked things like diapers and girly trappings, and that those things were OK and didn’t make me a bad person.
She would do little things to show me she cared, like get “little” gifts when she would go out shopping. She would do bigger things too. Christmas and my birthday were always magical times, and many of my gifts would be little themed, and extremely thoughtful: She got me everything from thick cloth diapers to giant stuffed animals, and I loved all of it. Even more than the items themselves, I loved what they represented. And I can’t forget to give credit where credit is due: If you think the two-tone paintjob of my playroom is amazing (isn’t it?), that was the fruits of her labor.
Unfortunately, for all of the reassurance she gave me, I was not in a place where I could fully embrace it. Our marriage didn’t fall apart because of kink or ABDL, but it was certainly a contributing factor. I would obsess over the hows and whys of my kink, sounding like a broken record, and in retrospect I can appreciate how difficult it must have been to be trying your damnedest to continually try to show acceptance to someone who can’t truly accept themselves.
Fully Embracing Who I Am
After we separated, I was forced to take a long, hard look at who I am as a person. Before the split, we had gone to marriage counseling, and while our therapist was laughably (and sadly) not kink-aware, she did help to provide me with a better understanding of self, and to give me a framework for communicating in a constructive way.
“It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything” – Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club
Since the separation with my wife and the subsequent experiences I have had with multiple wonderful, supportive partners, I have been able to come to grips with my sexual identity. With that accomplished, I now seek to advocate for sex-positivity across the board, for if I can help just one person shed their feelings of guilt and shame, I will have made the world a better place.
While the sum total of my identity is far more than just an ABDL, somewhere along the line I truly became a Lifestyle Little. While I live a fairly “normal life” by all outward appearances, I spend every night sleeping in my very own adult-sized nursery, lovingly referred to as The Playroom by friends and my kink family. I nestle into my fluffy blankets, and hold my giant stuffed dog tight. I have a diaper fetish, and being babied with powder and thick, thick diapers, fuzzy pajamas and a pacifier is core to my sexual enjoyment. Calling my partner Mommy, and the feeling of power exchange where I am absolutely helpless in their arms, is core to my emotional fulfillment.
To the person that existed before Spooky was born, simply writing the words above would have been inconceivable, let alone fully internalizing them as a personal truth. But thanks to the positive changes in my life over the past few years, I have been able to reconcile and replace decades of shame with a renewed vigor for life and a newfound sense of radical self-acceptance.
By putting this writing, this site, and myself out there, I hope to help sow the seeds of self-acceptance in you. Tell me what you think in the comments!
2 thoughts on “My ABDL Origin Story”
what no radioactive diapered teddybears giving you super powers?
Hard to believe!