On Self-Discovery... Part II - The Hardy Boys, Dr. Ruth, & Other Characters

[CWIS'S NOTE]: This entry contains graphic sexual content. If you aren't a fan of sex, skip the entry and continue to the next one.

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Intro...

I have difficulty pinpointing exactly when it was I realized that there were other people like me out there.

When I think back to the various realizations that I made, I find that putting them in chronological order is difficult, if not impossible. Sometimes things that happened to me at age ten seem like they happened at age twelve... other times I can't remember when they happened at all.

Most of my recollections actually involve people who were forced to wear, or threatened with, diapers:

• I remember when a family friend's teenage son (the Roberts family from the story below) took a piss on my brother and, as punishment, got the belt and a week in a diaper. I'll tell that story eventually...
• I remember when I heard a talk radio host debating diapers as punishment on the radio, with a parent who insisted that diapering her child was an effective method of discipline.
• I remember being at a church picnic and listening to a father threatening to put his adolescent son in a diaper if he didn't stop whining.

I remember that each of these things happened when I was very young. But I remember actually being envious of the children involved. It was like they were like me, in my mind. We both wore diapers, after all...

...the obvious differences (forced/abuse vs. wanting to wear) were lost on me.

I think the first time I realized that there were truly people my age who wanted to wear diapers came when I was about 11 or 12, and listening to, of all things, the Dr. Ruth Show on the radio.

Abysitter.com 1.0?

By this age of my life I had taken to wearing 'diapers' nightly.

Not real diapers, of course.

Cloth diapers had ceased to fit me by now. Even the oversized defect diaper didn't fit.

So I had to get creative.

And, creative I got.

Every night at bedtime I would do one of several things. I would put two cloth diapers end-to-end, nudge them down into a loose-fitting pair of underpants, and slowly get into bed - a big diaper!

Or I would find the softest towel available, pin it to myself using diaper pins, and - voila! - a big diaper!

Eventually I would tape a garbage bag with paper towels, toilet paper or Kleenex, and duct tape - a big diaper! - but that came later, I think.

At this point in my life, the towel was my typical method. And I wore my towel diapers nightly.

I have always liked to write.

When I was 11, it was no different.

I have always considered myself creative. But, ever since I can remember, being diapered has increased my creativity ten-fold.

So picture it. Cwis, age 11, diapered nightly.

Writing.

That's right... writing.

I remember sprinkling baby powder on my bum, cinching on my terrycloth diaper, and turning over on my tummy. I'd pull out a notebook and a pen and start writing.

Sometimes I'd write diaper fiction. I'd be penning my fantasies, internet-style - this before the internet even existed, I think. Me diapered at a family gathering. Me diapered at school. Me diapered at a huge public sporting event. Crazy stories, all having a common theme: me, diapered.

Other times I'd write out what would essentially be a parenting manual. I pictured handing it to my parents, so that they could find out what they were doing wrong. (Sending Cwis to bed without a diaper? Not smart!) Or giving it to them so that they could, in turn, hand it over to a babysitter. (Give Cwis his baby bottle at 7:00 p.m.; bedtime is 7:30 p.m. sharp!)

I'd just write. I'd fill up the pages of my journal with tales of diapering, graphically illustrated.

I'd write until the words started to not make sense.

I'd write right up until I began to doze off.

When I couldn't write anymore - and this usually coincided with when I felt completely toddlerized - I'd put the cap on my pen, shove my notebook under my pillow, and fall blissfully asleep.

In the morning I'd peel off my 'diaper', hide my notebook under the mattress, and go about my business.

In some ways, Abysitter.com got its start when I was an adolescent.

One night, I discovered ejaculation.

And, like it probably was for almost all of us - it was amazing.

A-ma-zing!

It happened purely by accident.

I was laying on my stomach, writing. I used to use a nightlight which would allow me to see the pages and, most nights, avoid detection by the parentals.

I'd lay, toweled (diapered), writing away. Sometimes I would suck on a pacifier (hidden well in the morning) or drink from a sippy cup. Other nights I would just lay there. But I would do my drawings, and write my stories and guides, and - as I thought up new ideas - just lay on my stomach, daydreaming of what life would be like if I didn't have to hide my toddler side and try so hard to avoid detection.

This particular night I was writing a story. It was a story similar to one of my favorite book series at the time, The Hardy Boys. In my version, though, boy-detectives Frank and Joe Hardy couldn't solve a mystery without putting a Pamper on each other first. And, of course, their mysteries involved things like... well, missing diapers.

Yea, I was corny. A dork. All of that.

Still, I would lay there and write the beginning of a story. I pictured myself sending it off to author Franklin W. Dixon for inclusion in next book, thereby bringing the concept of diapering to the masses. Eventually I would fall asleep and, by the time I woke the next day, I'd lose interest in my story.

On this particular night the Hardy brothers were driving around Bayport, trying to figure out who had stolen all of the diapers in the town. Would they solve the mystery before one of them had to take a piss?

My little eleven year-old ass was laying on the mattress, chilling in my own diaper as I put my brilliant plot twists down on paper. I would often enjoy the feeling of the diaper against my penis while I wrote and - as I'm sure we're all familiar with - pull the diaper up into my behind, letting it caress my ass and enjoying the sensation I got as it did.

At some point I found myself moving my body up and down as I wrote. The feeling was awesome, my penis was erect, and I was actually distracted from my writing for a minute. I couldn't believe how good this felt!

I stopped writing eventually, just humping away. I think I humped for an hour or two, and loved every second of it. And then it happened: I squirted.

A J/O Noob...

I will never forget that moment.

I went from feeling amazing to feeling horrified and humiliated all in a single moment.

As with most eleven year olds, my body was saving up for this moment.

I didn't just squirt - I gushed.

It was like I peed in my diaper. The front of the towel was soaked with semen. Gooey, sticky semen.

I remember being stunned. It might sound funny now, but I thought that I had wet myself, yet somehow knew that wasn't what had happened. I instantly reached down and felt myself: my penis was soft, my diaper was soaked, and my mattress was wet.

I slowly turned over onto my back and lay, looking upward.

What had just happened?!

As children my brother and I were probably pretty sheltered. I had no idea what sex was, even at age eleven. I'd never heard the term 'cum', or 'come', or anything similar.

I'd heard kids call each other out on 'having wet dreams' in school, but I had honestly thought that they were talking about dreams involving swimming, shit like that. I didn't grasp the concept. And I'd certainly never had a wet dream. I'd never woken up sticky, icky... nothing.

But tonight... I'd gone from envisioning diapered detectives solving the Case of the Missing Case of Huggies to trying to find out the mystery of what had just squirted out of my penis.

And, like all of us, I experienced that shamed, regretful feeling we all get after we squirt.

I pledged not to hump anymore.

I swore I'd stop writing these gay-ass stories.

And towels were for drying off after a bath - I swore I'd throw this towel in the laundry in the morning and stop wearing them to bed. No more towel/diapers for me!

I wondered what my parents would think if they realized that their eleven year-old son had 'wet the bed' - and the embarrassment and shame increased.

Thoughts that something might be wrong with me went through my mind.

But I was a horny little eleven year-old.

I lay, shamed, bewildered, for more than an hour.

And, at some point, I began to relive the moment I'd squirted.

It had felt... magical.

The shame and guilt began to decrease, to diminish.

At some point I realized... I wanted that feeling back.

That amazing feeling I got when my terrycloth diaper bunched up into my asscrack. The feeling I had as I humped. And the sheer ecstasy I felt as I came on myself? I wanted to repeat it.

I eventually turned over. I humped some more. And, after a lesser period of time - maybe thirty minutes - I squirted again.

I would squirt three times total that night.

(What I wouldn't give to have that stamina today!)

Physical Education

After that, I pretty much became addicted to humping my diaper.

It's something I still do today.

[I'll explain more about that later. And I know I'm not alone in this...]

Age eleven: me, humping my diaper nightly. Sometimes two or three times a night.

Age twelve: me, humping my diaper nightly. Sometimes after school. Sometimes three, four times a day.

Age thirteen: me, humping my diaper regularly. Ejaculating numerous times each week.

By this time I'd developed a collection of towels. I'd sought out and found the softest towels in the house, and I had found the perfect hiding spot for them. Semen-soaked towels smell sweet, at first; when you're eleven and twelve your own semen is something fresh, and you love the smell. After a day or two, though... well, you know. So I began rotating my towel/diapers into the laundry, as discretely as possible. Not discretely enough, as it turns out... but I'll get to that story another time.

In the meantime I've masturbated hundreds of times, soaking towels and by now garbage bag diapers along the way.

At some point, in school, the subject of jerking off came up in the gym class locker room.

I'll never forget the conversation. One of the football kids was picking on another one, something about the game from the weekend before, and he told him something along the lines of Well, if you hadn't been playing with yourself the whole game...

The other jock protested, saying that he hadn't been, and the first kid whipped out his dick and started stroking it.

The rest of us sat their, speechless.

And then someone spoke up and said You're not even doing it right!

That lead to a whole conversation about masturbation, with one kid doing a demo and everyone else sitting around, some obviously uncomfortable and others fairly nonchalant. I will say that you could pretty much tell who'd already discovered masturbation, and who hadn't, by the looks on peoples faces that day.

One of my fellow swimmers was sitting there with a confused look on his face, and a football kid made some crack about how you had to have a penis in order to understand what they were talking about. My friend laughed and explained that he understood, but he didn't do it that way - he "humped." All at once the whole room went quiet.

"What do you mean, you... hump?" one of the jocks asked him. I was relieved, because I humped, too, and when everyone had started yanking on themselves I won't lie: I was a little bit alarmed. My friend went on to explain that he humped the mattress, and a whole bunch of people got on him about sleeping in the same bed that he'd came in. He shot back a remark about the tuggers squirting all over themselves - at least his was in one spot - and the gym teacher walked in and the conversation was over.

I was to embarrassed to chime in. I wanted to back my friend up, to say I hump, too... but I couldn't, or I didn't. Later, though, I'd ask my friend about it. We weren't close, then, but he'd later become my best high school friend, and the first person I would do anything sexual with. I told him I humped, too, and we talked about it. Come to think of it (pardon the pun), that's probably how our friendship came to be...

Another 'WTF' Moment...

At age thirteen I was laying in bed, humping in my towel/diaper, and listening to Dr. Ruth.

If you don't know Dr. Ruth, you're missing out.

She's a sex expert with a thick-ass German accent. When I was a kid she had a radio show on every Sunday night. People would write her letters, and she would read them aloud and then answer them. It was very sexually explicit stuff and, as a horny teen, I couldn't get enough. While most of it dealt with heterosexuality, and I was already pretty confident I was into guys, I would listen to her advice to women re: pleasuring their boyfriends, imagine myself in the letter-writers position, and hump and squirt.

I had to keep the radio at just the right volume. It had to be low enough so that my parents wouldn't hear words like "penis" and "ejaculation" on the radio, and loud enough for me to hear. Also, since I was humping as I listened, it had to be at the right volume to cover up the creaky mattress yet allow me to hear if someone walked by my door.

On this particular night it was a bunch of questions about typical stuff, nothing exciting, and I remember thinking what a gay fucking show tonight was. It was almost time for the show to end and she announced that she'd return with one more question.

I was pretty close to jizzing, and I remember thinking... I'll slow down the humping and time it with the last question (LOL). So I did. I was laying there, my bottom wrapped in a towel, ass moving up and down, Dr. Ruth came back with the last letter. And began reading...

I am writing for my brother. He masturbates on a nightly basis, but not in the normal way most guys do. He folds a towel up into his pajamas, lays down on it, and moves up and down until semen ejaculates. I am worried because my brother says that his penis seems to be malformed. He tells me that it's not the normal shape, that it seems to be worn out. I am wondering if it could be misshapen because of how he is masturbating. Also, my brother states that he has no interest in having sexual intercourse in the normal way. In fact, he's not even sure that he can. He tells me he's tried masturbating normally, but it won't work. Please help!

I am paraphrasing the question. In reality, it was much longer.

In fact, it seemed like an eternity.

I heard the words "misshapen penis" and "no interest in having sexual intercourse in the normal way" and "it won't work" and the words started to race around in my head.

I was in a panic!

I had, for three years, jerked off my humping in a diaper.

I hadn't seen a ton of penises by age thirteen, but I had noticed that mine looked a little different than those I had seen.

And I definitely had no interest in having hetero sex in the 'normal' way!

Was something wrong with me?

With my penis?

Was a doing dick damage with every thrust into my mattress?!

Was this kid another diaper person, or just someone who couldn't figure out any other way to masturbate?

I couldn't wait for Dr. Ruth to get to the fucking answer.

Stop reading! Answer!

By the time she finally got to her answer, I was only hearing half of what she said.

I had my hand on my penis, feeling it, trying to find signs of wear and tear.

I knew that my penis was my friend, lol. It made me feel amazing... it provided me hours of entertainment. And I didn't want to let it down by working it incorrectly.

Dr. Ruth rambled on in her German accent about everyone being different... about penises appearing different... about people having different tastes when it comes to "pleasure".

But she also mentioned that someone who masturbates in the way the caller's "brother" did, long enough, could create a situation wherein their penis wouldn't cooperate when faced with a normal sexual situation.

She recommended that the caller talk to his "brother" about trying to "mix it up" when it came to masturbation.

She mentioned the word 'diaper' at least once.

And, then, the show was over.

I immediately began trying to mix it up.

I turned over onto my back and began to rub my front. I started slowly, at first, but eventually increased the friction, tugging my junk like my life depended on it.

In some ways, I felt like the life of my penis did.

I tugged, and I rubbed, but I found that, instead of staying hard - and my penis had been erect the whole show, mind you - I went softer as time went on.

Jerking had no effect on my penis. It was like it was saying "Yo... hands off!"

I realized what was missing after a little bit. Whenever I humped, the diaper (towel, etc.) somehow managed to find its way into my asscrack. I had become conditioned to ejaculating in part because of the sensations on my penis, but in part because of the sensations in other places. This whole penis-only thing just wasn't going to work.

I tried experimenting. And while I won't go into graphic detail I will say, nothing I tried would act as a substitute for the diaper.

After more than an hour of trying to use a hands-on approach I realized I'd have to rely on the old standby: a towel diaper.

I pinned the diaper back on, turned over, and humped the shit out of it.

Two minutes later, I was sleeping in a sea of my own cum.

To this day, I have never been able to jerk off the "normal" way.

And, from responses I've received to some of my various blog entries, I know I'm far from alone.

I've had people jerk me off, but it takes way too much effort on their part, and I wind up feeling guilty half-way through.

I also have little interest in having sex "the normal way".

And, again, I know I'm not alone here.

I've given head. I've gotten head. And I've jerked and been jerked. I've done a lot of other stuff, as well. But, in the end, give me a hot DL's bottom, a disposable diaper, some baby powder, and a mattress; I'll hump like a motherfucker and be perfectly content.

It's just how I'm wired.

Sometimes I wish I could have a more 'normal' sexual existence. I've even wished, at times - although not recently - that I could have sex (and enjoy it) without diapers!

In the end, though, I realize that diapers and sex go hand in hand for me.

(Pardon that pun, too, thanks).

Dr. Ruth gave me quite a scare, and I still wonder if my penis would have a different appearance if I'd humped less and tugged more.

In the end, though - as those of you who've humped with me know - it's all good.