Hello. My name is Laurel. For many years now I have known I was different. It’s hard to say when I first knew it or at least suspected it. I grew up in a normal family situation in the Midwest. I have an older sister, a younger brother and an even younger sister. Since I am five years older than my younger brother, and seven years older than my baby sister, I ended up babysitting a lot for them. At first I didn’t like it but I got used to it, I felt it kept me away from my friends, but later my friends would come over and we would play and have lots of fun together.
Looking back, I guess I can sort of see the reasons why I am the way I am. I used to think I was the only one who was like me but now I know better. I still have to keep it a secret though at least to most of my friends and family because I don’t think they would be able to accept me. The reason I am writing this is in hopes that my words will help someone else like me avoid having to go thru so much confusion and guilt as I have. I’m sorry, but I’m getting ahead of mysel. Let me try and start from the beginning again.
You see, in those early years when I used to babysit my younger brother and sister we used to play games. You know, like all kids play...house, Dr., stuff like that. Well one day when my youngest sister was still in diapers, she came to me having wet herself and needing a change. She was kind of a late bloomer and was still wearing diapers regularly at five. So we went to give her a change in her room. First taking her dress off, and then pulling her plastic panties down to her ankles, then unpinning her soaked diaper. When I think back on this it was the first time I remember ever noticing the sharp, sweet and pungent odor of my younger sister’s diaper. Other diaper changes I surely remember, but try not to, as they were a poopy chore. But this was different I liked it! I didn’t know it at the time exactly, but I liked it.
I was at an age when dolls and babies fascinated me as they do all little girls at that formative age. There was nothing unusual about an older sister changing her younger sister’s diaper for mom. The unusual thing was that later that day I remember going into my little sister’s room and going to the drawer and picking out some plastic panties and smelling them. I was rewarded with the intoxicating vapors of baby oil and powder and the faint, very faint scent of my sister’s pee pee. I resisted the urge to take the panties, and placed them back in the drawer. From then on, I looked forward to babysitting my younger sister and diapering her.
Several years later when I was fourteen, I had my first sexual experience. I woke up in the morning after having a powerful dream and realized that I had had my first orgasm. Still relishing those feelings of my dream, I reached down to my vagina and felt the moistness there. Then I brought my fingers up to my face and smelled them. I became intoxicated with the smell as I lay there and continued my explorations.
We had been friends for the last two years. Kimberly and I did everything together, movies, games, slumber parties, vacations, boy talk, Girl Scouts... everything. We were inseparable, but neither of us were prepared for what happened one evening when we were together at her house for a slumber party. Actually it was to be a slumber party for three but Susan couldn’t make it, so it was just Kimberly and me. We were talking about all the normal stuff when we got into a truth or dare kind of a challenge; what would you try once and only once if you had the chance. Kimberly hesitantly went first, “I’ve never kissed anyone yet, well... you know, not like that.” So truth or dare we tremblingly and tentatively kissed! Wow !#*%* neither of us had expected it to feel like that. I’m afraid we both liked it more than either of us could have ever dreamed possible. We were so blown away we never got around to my truth or dare.
For weeks we went around in a daze, almost afraid to see each other, and at the same time unable to forget the forbidden excitement we felt. Finally one day after school we got up the nerve to talk about it. We decided to take the risk of trying it again and we did. I can’t even begin to describe the excitement and ecstasy we felt, also the guilt. If it had happened with a boy, either of us would have been totally unable to gossip about it to each other and our friends. But as things were, we were in this together and unable to utter a word of it to anybody.
Our grades began to suffer, we lost friends, we continued to experiment with our kissing and more, and we felt the weight of the world on our shoulders. The fear of God was in us but we were unable to stop. Neither of us had ever had an experience like this before, or ever considered we might be gay, or anything. We were only fifteen and we knew we weren’t gay, and we couldn’t talk to anyone, and we sure as hell weren’t going to stop seeing each other.
Our experimentation became more bold. We showed each other our small titties and let each other touch them. Soon we were letting each other suck on our tits. The next time, we both knew instinctively what was going to happen and it did. Tremblingly we touched each other’s privates. Softly, carefully at first, then a little deeper and stronger. When Kimberly touched me down there like that I suddenly burst into an uncontrollable, earthshaking, orgasm.
After that day nothing has ever been the same for me. Kimberly and I never saw each other in that way ever again. I had gone home scared but changed, transformed you might say. I continued to relive the experience over and over in my mind, and to sniff of my fingers which still retained the strong, delicate sweet, scent of Kimberly’s pussy. Even that night hours later, I was still straining to catch the last hint of her lingering fragrance. Finally, in a state of delight and frustration, I reached down and dipped my fingers into myself and indulged in my own personal scent and flavor. In a very few minutes, felt myself shuddering again and again in orgasm.
Kimberly was soon to be seen with one of the handsomest and most popular boys in our high school. Although we remained friends on a social basis, we never attained the closeness that we had once shared, or even talked about it again.
I guess the after effects of my relationship with Kimberly remained a lot stronger with me than they did with her. I experienced all the usual adolescent, puppy love scenes of high school, but I was unmoved by them. While all my friends got paired off, I remained aloof and single. I became known as a loner, and in a minor way, became an outcast. I kept generally to myself and concentrated on school and my hobbies and projects.
Never, for a day, an hour, did I forget the depth of passion I had felt with Kimberly, and at the same time I was burning up inside. What I had lost I craved.
At sixteen I still accepted babysitting jobs to earn some cash. Most of the time I sat the various five and six year olds next door and in the neighborhood. One family had two kids I had taken care of on a number of occasions. They were going out to dinner with another couple who had a two year old and they asked me if I could take her at the same time. Ok, no sweat.
Of course it had been a long time since I had taken care of a baby but that didn’t seem to be a problem, so they left me with with the kids and instructions and telephone numbers etc. When it became obvious Selina, that was her name, I remember very clearly, required a diaper change, I gently picked her up, laid her on the couch and proceeded to remove her wet diapers and plastic pants. That was when it hit me! That old familiar smell of wet baby diapers again. I suddenly found myself very aroused and realized that this wasn’t the first time I remember being attracted to this smell. In fact it was very similar to the odor that had once lingered on my fingers after I had had my experience with Kimberly.
After the kids were asleep, I guiltily snuck a little whiff of Selina’s wet diapers from the diaper bag. What was I doing?
Soon after that I began noticing diapers in stores, diaper advertisements on tv and kids in diapers. I was fascinated by diapers. Not long after that was when I found out that there were diapers for adults.
I can’t tell you how many times my sensibilities have told me that this strange attraction and even obsession for diapers does not make sense. Yes it has become a daily ritual and obsession, and the fact that it doesn’t make any logical sense has no effect on my desire to wear and use them almost daily now. Did I say use them? Yes! I have found that I love the feeling of wetting them. In fact I seem to prefer wet diapers to dry ones lately as my fetish develops
.I know it’s a fetish, or at least that is what most people would call it for lack of a better word. In fact, my little diaper habit would probably be considered a perversion by most people and maybe they would be right. But that doesn’t stop me from loving them just the same. What's to love about a diaper? Well I can’t begin to tell you the thrill I get from wearing them, let alone wetting them. I don’t expect you to understand or even sympathize, but now I know there are a lot of people who would. It wasn’t until a few months ago that I had been going around thinking I was the only adult in the world who actually liked wearing and wetting diapers. Now I know there are lots of adults who like it, hundreds or maybe even thousands. There are even diaper clubs.
Like me, those people have a passion for their diddies too. You know there is one major difference though, most of them are males. That’s right, big baby boys who go around wearing and wetting and.... well.... worse in their diapers. But all this is getting beside the point. What I was going to tell you was what I do when I wear my diapers and especially after I wet them.
But first I want to tell you about my new friend. I have made a new friend who understands my infantile feelings and desires. Not only does she, that’s right she, understand me so completely and clearly, but she is my lover and friend as well. Not only that but she is my mommy. Well not my mommy in the biological sense, but my mommy in every other sense. She loves me feeds me, dresses me and, of course diapers me. I can tell you right now that I am not the only one who gets excited over my being in diapers. My new mommy, Alicia, get’s as turned on by diapering me as I do by being diapered. I swear, it’s a love made in heaven, and ever since we have met that’s where we have been, in heaven. Aleceia’s biological clock is ticking, as they say. Forward as she has found her baby at last. And my biological clock is ticking too. Backwards. I feel so relieved to have found Aleceia, or I should say, since she has found me. I was lost and now I have been found.
Before I became Alicia’s baby girl, I had been floundering for several years. I tried to be normal and date boys go out on the town, that kind of thing, but nothing seemed to work out for me. I had my diapers and plastic panties, and even though I know this sounds weird, they became my close personal friends. The security I felt when I wore them, and the thrill I got from wetting them kept me from reaching out towards the social scenes of my peers, and I ended up feeling like I was standing still while the world went by. It was like I was in slow motion or in suspended animation or something. As these feelings developed I became more reclusive and turned in on myself. I felt so alone in a big world, but when I was in my diapers I didn’t feel the pressure and pain and rush of life in the fast lane. In short, due to my need for security I began to wear them more and more often. After a couple of years I rarely slept at night without them. Then I began to feel the need and desire to wear them sometimes during the day sometimes. Not long after that, I started wearing my diapers all the time.
I’ve always thought that I could stop wearing them if I wanted, but I never wanted to. I did stop sometimes, but I always went back to the security of my diapers. I made it for a month once, but I became obsessed thinking about them, all the time.. all the time. When I started wearing them again I began to have other symptoms of regression too. I would suck my thumb while falling asleep and I bought a baby bottle and used that sometimes while falling asleep. Everytime I added another detail to my security trip I became addicted to it. I saw no harm in it, it all made me feel good. I began to have a difficult time however at school and at work. By this time I was twenty two years old, without a boyfriend, living in an apartment on my own, wearing diapers at night and sometimes during the day, sucking on my thumb, and beginning to have irresitible infantile cravings.
There was no one I could talk to. Nobody knew what was going on with me. I became somewhat depressed and very lonely. I began to do some research at the library in the psychology section to see if there were any cases like mine. I didn’t know where to look or where to start. Finally I stumbled onto a term I had never heard of before.... Infantilism. Still, there was little or nothing written on the subject in the library. In the glossary there was a cross reference to a volume that was available from another library, so I ordered it.
When the book arrived several days later, I excitedly looked up Infantilism. There were several cases documented and I eagerly read them all. Some were not unlike myself, even though none were exactly like me. But there it was! Another term that was used was Adult Babies, and although none were listed, there were references to other literature available. I had no idea where to look for something like that. Even though I then knew there were others like me, this clinical stuff was not very fulfilling, but it was a start. I was no longer completely alone in the world.
Anyway, that was when I first realized that what I had was a fetish. It’s kind of a cold term but it was a clue as to where to look for others like me. I started to look at some of those kind of magazines that I had never been interested in before. You know the type. After looking in several different magazines I finally found what I was looking for. I could hardly believe my eyes when I read an article on being diapered and dominated. After that, I found an occasional article here and there and started collecting everything I could find on the subject.
Eventually I discovered there were actually some clubs for people like me who wear diapers and have baby-like cravings. I got listed in one and was amazed to find out that there were mailing lists of members, and products for adult babies! It didn’t take me more than a second to join one and as soon as I got a mailing list, I started to write to some members. I was very disappointed when people I wrote to never wrote back, and some things I ordered never arrived. That was when I first realized that there were people out there trying to take advantage of big babies like me. It was a marketing situation! I couldn’t believe it. Not all my letters were unanswered though and I became pen pals with a member who had also gotten ripped off but had discovered another diaper club which was said to be honest and great. So I joined. Their mailing list was awesome. There were members all over the world. I was very shy at first, and when my listing appeared in the newsletter as myself, suddenly I received hundreds of replies. Being a female big baby, I got letters from a lot of guys who wanted to be my daddy or my baby friend. There were so many letters that I couldn’t possibly answer all of them. Anyway I didn’t know what to say. I soon became aware of the fact that I didn’t want a daddy or just a baby friend. It was ok to write some to of them and I did, but writing was enough. I didn’t want to meet them. It was enough just knowing there were others with feelings like mine.
Many of them seemed desperate to meet somebody and some of them were downright pushy. I wrote to some babies who claimed to be female in their listings, and they were actually males. That made me mad! I was put off by some of the big babies that sent me pictures of them in poopy diapers, I really didn’t want to see that. It was ok that they did it but I never asked to see it.
Then, one day I received a letter from a woman who seemed ever so understanding and maternal, and my heart melted. I got tears in my eyes from reading her soothing, caring words. I knew she was really a woman this time, I could just tell. She knew exactly what to say and how to reach me.
It’s true, I was miserable and sick, and my husband was abusing me emotionally and physically. I don’t blame it all on him, but I do not take credit for his ignorance and lack of sensitivity. It was a mistake to have gotten pregnant by him, and when he beat me and I miscarried, you had better believe I got rid of him in a flash. I will never become pregnant again, but now I have my baby Laurel who is the sweetest and cutest baby girl on the block.
The thing that most people would find strange is that Baby Laurel is twenty three years old. You see Laurel, “Muffin”, as I usually call her, is a very special and unique person. While we all get older, Laurel becomes younger and younger. She is on the unique path of infantilism. Since an early age, probably around nine or ten, she has turned back the clock and is fast returning to a baby in her every need and desire. I never thought I would ever be this close to anyone, or feel these deep and emotional feelings I have for Muffin. She is the most pure and innocent soul I have ever met in my lifetime.
We met by chance thrugh a sort of newsletter dating service. After my divorce I became very bitter towards men in general, and found myself feeling very lonely and depressed. A girlfriend of mine, a single mother, became very concerned about me and tried to act as a matchmaker. To make a long story short, I discovered that I was no longer interested in having a relationship with a man, at least not just yet. Even though I was never willing to admit it before, even to myself, I found the idea of women exciting. I went to a gay bar a once or twice, but I was just too nervous and uptight to enjoy myself and let my hair down. However, amid the various publications in their rack I found a newsletter that was very interesting.
I had never seen anything like this before, or even been aware that there were people like this. The whole newsletter was about adult babies! There were articles, stories, products and a mailing list of members. My heart skipped a beat as I self consciously slipped the paper into my purse. I could hardly wait to get home and take a better look. As it turned out, there were hundreds of names and addresses of people who were adult babies. Most of them were men, but I found the list fascinating and read every entry. These people wanted to dress up in diapers and plastic pants and act like babies. Can you imagine that? Some of them were looking for mommies and daddies. Out of a hundred and fifty or two hundred names there were only two females. One of them was Laurel and her name simply popped out at me.
I found myself writing her that very night. The beginning of the next week I received a reply from Laurel and bingo! I was awestruck immediately and returned her letter instantly with my phone number. A few days later I received a phone call in the evening and to my surprise and delight, it was a young woman introducing herself as Laurel. I almost cried after hearing her little meek and bashful voice. Maybe it was my hormones, but whatever it was I knew immediately that we were meant for each other and that we needed to get together as soon as possible.
My heart went out to this little girl, and she seemed to trust me right off. It seemed the most natural thing in the world that Laurel was a baby. She explained her infantile needs and desires and bashfully apologized for her state of regression. I let her know that no apologies were necessary and that I understood perfectly. I could feel her sense of relief even over the telephone.
She explained how she had gotten literally hundreds of letters from other adult babies. So many that she couldn’t begin to write them all back. But two things were different about my letter she explained, I was single, and I was a woman. She had gotten two letters from couples who wanted to “adopt” a big baby girl, and all the rest of the letters were from men wanting her to be their baby girl or mommy.
From the very beginning, during our first few phone calls, we started making plans to meet each other. Of course there were complications and details to work out, but in the end we managed to meet each other after three of the longest weeks in either of our lives.
Laurel was living in a neighboring state and took the bus to meet me. She had finished school a few months before and taken on a temporary job which she had decided to quit in order to come to me. We were so sure of our desire to be together that she had moved out of her apartment and stored her stuff. She was on her way to me at last!
When she stepped off the bus and looked around, my heart practically stopped at the sight of her. She saw me and we rushed into each other’s arms. The feel of her, her soft silky skin, the smell of her, her sweet shy smile and strong thankful hug spelled out love for me. I had asked her to be wearing her diaper, and I discreetly felt her hips and buns for the telltale bulge but found no noticeable padding. I whispered in her ear asking if she was wearing her diaper and she nodded no. She said that she was afraid and that she wanted to go home and then she could wear her diapers for me.
When we got home we shared a sandwich along with some milk and cookies. Our hands kept finding each other like magnets and we explored each other’s eyes and lost ourselves in them. I had never had these kind of feelings before even with my ex-husband in the prime of our relationship. It was difficult to explain the depth and sensitivity of our feelings for each other already, even at this early moment in our relationship. There were none of those doubts and hesitations and the akwardness I had always felt before with men. Where there had been hardness and toughness before, there was now softness and tenderness. The familiar lines and curves of her shapely body reminded me of my own feminine form. I had never touched another woman’s breasts and the sensation was exciting and heavenly.
By now you know that Mommy’s little Muffin is more than just my big baby girl, she’s momma’s lover too. Our lovin is a special kind of lovin, a love that only a momma and baby could share, and a love that is more than a momma and her infant baby can share. Muffin is a woman in body but a baby in spirit. We share each other in ways most people only dream about. When momma diapers Laurel, she becomes my little Muffin. She coos and crawls and wets for momma as she regresses to a total infantile condition.
The first time Momma diapered her Laurel, she was a bit shy and hesitant. Laurel had been having a lonely and difficult life for a long time. She felt misunderstood and alienated, but she has come home now to momma, and momma put her to ease, and put her in her diapers where she belongs. Momma Alicia understands her little diaper baby and her baby could sense that from the beginning.
From that moment on, when Laurel became momma’s little Muffin forever, she has been regressing further and further into her baby world. Muffin knows she will never be alone again, momma will take care of her, pamper her and keep her securely diapered. She can forget all about the big nasty world out there and live the simple and pure nursery life that she needs. As the clock runs backward for my baby, she continues to surprise me as to the depth of her regression. At first she seemed to be a young woman with a fixation on becoming a baby again. Now momma knows better, she actually has become a baby in ever increasing ways and is headed to complete infantilism. Momma doesn’t know what she will do when the clock has turned back as far as it will go, but I will worry about that later.
Muffin is a sweet little thing and I know she loves her momma. During diaper changes, she happily submits to a thorough cleaning of her diaper area. I enjoy the process of diapering her as much as she loves it. Her legs pump the air joyfully as I snap on her plastic panties and pin on her fresh diapers. I find that I am stimulated by the touch of her ever so soft skin and her aroma. Most often, Muffin wets herself immediately. The smell of her urine soaked diapers and sweet young pussy brings on a fit of motherly passion. Often, I cradle her at this point as I feed her a bottle of warm milk. She lay in my arms and I tenderly wipe the hair away from her face. She loves the feel of momma’s breasts, and as she plays with them, my nipples become very sensitive and hard. I find that when my Muffin wets herself she has made the final act of submission and she becomes momma’s one and only loving and completely helpless sissy diaper baby. At this point, I usually begin to feel the need to suckle Muffin, so mommy gently removes the nipple of baby’s bottle and offer her Momma’s nipple to suck. Muffin responds eagerly as her lips suck my titties. Even though I don’t have milk, she loves to suck on me as she plays with herself or momma plays with her.
She tends to play with her own pussy at times and I enjoy that as well. Sometimes baby will offer me her fingers to suck on, and I do. At certain times, baby will even put her head between momma’s legs and lick the abundant juices on momma’s puddin’. Needless to say, momma likes this very, very much and this usually leads momma into a series of delicious orgasms. Momma can’t seem to resist the temptation to put her nose into baby’s little puddin’ too and taste her femininity as well. The intoxicating scent of our play surrounds us in an impenetrable cloud of pleasure.
When we have had enough for a while, momma powders her baby and pins on her nursery print diapers and snaps up her plastic panties, snappity snap snap. There! Muffin has an abundance of baby clothes and sleepers and dresses. Momma has made some of them, and others we buy at the store. I never realized how many cloths made for girls and women are actually very baby like. Pinks and yellows in pastel shades are our favorites, and Muffin looks adorable in them all.
After diapering and dressing her, she is usually content to play with her toys and dollies of which she has many. Amongst them is an antique doll from the fifties which is Muffin’s favorite. It’s called Betsy Wetsy. Muffin seems fascinated with her and loves to play with her for hours on end. She diapers her and dresses her much as she is dressed herself. I know when Betsy has done a wetsy, because I usually hear a giggle of delight from Muffin. She holds her tight as she then wets herself too. We go through stacks of diapers, as Muffin seems unable to resist wetting herself in a very short time after being changed. Cloth diapers are much more to our liking and easy to wash. Muffin seems not at all inclined to feel the need to poop in her diapers which makes the task of cleaning her and her diapers much easier. But I wonder how much longer I have that luxury, as Muffin gradually sinks deeper and deeper into her regression. Meanwhile, her little potty with the duckies and bunnies gaily painted on it does the job.
Now that I have finally found my mommy I am the happiest baby girl in the world. Mommy Alicia is the nicest, kindest person ever, and she understands me like nobody else ever has. She knows that I love to be her diaper baby more than anything.
At first, I was shy with her, but when I realized she loves me as I am, I opened my heart up to her completely. She knows my every mood and desire and she has become my true mommy.
Most of the time I still like to be a big girl, but when it’s time to be in diapers, I am Mommie’s little diaper baby completely and totally. I give myself over to her loving care and the worries of the world drop away. I simply squirm with delight as mommy oils and powders me. Then she pulls my diaper up between my legs, and after her fingers gently adjust them, she pins em on. Mommy snaps my plastic baby panties all up and my big girl identity slips away. I’m happiest, when Mommy diapers me. Mommy feeds me my bottle or offers me her sweet breast to suckle as I lay in her arms ever so comfortable and peaceful and secure. As she looks down at me as I suckle her breast, I know I am truly mama’s baby. Sometimes I have to go pee pee right away in my diaper. I get so excited to go wettums in my diaper as mommy holds me and I drift into my wet fragrent baby world.
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