Let me begin with a question.
What exactly is it about the sensation of urine that we love so much?
I want you to think that over for a moment.
Most kids can’t wait to get out of diapers.
Meanwhile, us – a tiny, tiny fraction of the human population – somehow falls in love with the feeling of a urine-soaked diaper?
And, do anything we can to stay in them for as long as possible?
To never outgrow them, really?
Seriously... what the fuck even is that?
Anyone reading this page who hasn’t been afflicted (or, depending on who you are talking to, blessed) by what we know as AB/DL could, at best, only hope to gain an uneasy understanding of why we are the way we are.
I want you to think that over for a moment.
Most kids can’t wait to get out of diapers.
Meanwhile, us – a tiny, tiny fraction of the human population – somehow falls in love with the feeling of a urine-soaked diaper?
And, do anything we can to stay in them for as long as possible?
To never outgrow them, really?
Seriously... what the fuck even is that?
Anyone reading this page who hasn’t been afflicted (or, depending on who you are talking to, blessed) by what we know as AB/DL could, at best, only hope to gain an uneasy understanding of why we are the way we are.
We have our own language.
If I were to turn to you on the bus and ask, “are you padded” – you’d have no trouble understanding exactly what I am asking you.
“Listen for the crinkle,” you might reply.
“Hmm, Cushie?” I’d probably wonder aloud.
“Dry 24/7,” you’d likely retort. “Thickness, bro.”
“Had those in my stash, before my last purge,” I might tell you.
“Going to Teddy?” you’d inquire.
The other people on the bus would probably be like: What. The. Fuck. Is. This. Conversation?
But we’d get it.
If I were to turn to you on the bus and ask, “are you padded” – you’d have no trouble understanding exactly what I am asking you.
“Listen for the crinkle,” you might reply.
“Hmm, Cushie?” I’d probably wonder aloud.
“Dry 24/7,” you’d likely retort. “Thickness, bro.”
“Had those in my stash, before my last purge,” I might tell you.
“Going to Teddy?” you’d inquire.
The other people on the bus would probably be like: What. The. Fuck. Is. This. Conversation?
But we’d get it.
Because we understand each other.
We speak the same language.
We are the only people who do. We don’t realize that, of course, until we do our first internet search – “why do I like diapers” – and finally find out that we’re not alone.
But once we do, and we realize how ‘not alone’ we actually are, a feeling of relief sweeps over us.
We realize that we have a second family out there.
A community.
People who understand us in a way that nobody else could ever hope to.
Our secrets – and the connection we feel when we finally find someone else who speaks our secret language – is why the bonds we make with one another are so strong.
And, why the heartache is even stronger when one of those connections flakes.
That empty feeling is actually how Abysitter.com got started.
I readily admit that I began blogging for a pretty selfish reason: I wanted to stop losing ABDL connections.
I had seen signs that Aby.com was having trouble, and I questioned whether RUPadded.com could pick up where they left off if they ever shut down.
There was talk of mods being mean to users, and deleting them out of spite.
DiaperSpace.com was also struggling, and ABDL accounts on MySpace were being deleted by the hundreds.
If FetLife existed yet, we hadn’t found it.
So, between that and all of the binging and purging that was so common then, who knew if someone’s account would even be there if/when they returned for it?
So I reserved my Aby.com username, “Abysitter”, as a dot-com.
I’d already made some pretty powerful connections with people on the diaper sites, and lost them when they binged/purged or mods deleted their accounts – I couldn’t imagine losing you all if a site, or all of the sites, went down.
(For you little dunces, I’ll just say this: today our community is stronger than ever – in 2008 things were very different).
Anyway, I made an account on Blogger, and I advertised the link to Abysitter.com online a bit, and I started writing some stories.
Imagine my excitement when, days later – or maybe even weeks lol – I realized that someone besides me had actually viewed my blog for the first time!
Picture the look on my face, as I lay in a diaper slurping on my bottle, furiously typing out my next story, knowing that someone would likely read it!!!
After a while it became clear I had at least two regular readers.
Multiples!
I was super excited now. At least two people – maybe more, even – were making a habit of visiting abysitter.com to see what Chris had to say.
Soon, people were commenting. You’d better believe I was going all in, now. I was writing stories about personal stuff – going way back to my childhood, to my teen years, to my college days, covering everything.
Cwis was born. 8
Over time, those comments turned in to emails. And the emails turned in to phone calls.
And that’s when I truly began to realize that my blog was more than a bit of ABDL entertainment for people.
Sure, some people probably came by, read a story or two, squirted, and merc’d.
But there were people my stories actually meant something to.
It turned out to be a lot of people.
You have no idea what that meant to first realize that.
I remember being in high school, faced for the first time with the realization that the boy I had fallen in love with – my bi-curious best friend – would never be able to fully connect with me.
He would never truly understand me, despite his best efforts. As understanding as he had tried to be, spending time on his own researching my fetish and even being willing to experiment with it a little, he would never be able to truly understand.
Mark could try to get inside my head, but he would never truly be inside the headspace.
Sometimes I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for myself, or sorry for him. But I was sorry for us, because everything about him was amazing, and yet I had this... flaw...
He knew I couldn’t get rid of it, so he tried to get into it.
I was moved by Mark trying so hard to connect with this, but deep down, I think I resented him. He had shown me as much love as anyone I’d ever known, offering to try this weird, perverted thing he knew that I had a strange affection for. His inability to enjoy it like I did should never have been held against him. But I was young, and stupid.
When I think back to how I felt, I hope my feelings didn’t reflect how I acted.
This was my best friend. His efforts to be the best possible friend anyone could ever hope for made me depressed when he was unsuccessful, and it eventually left him feeling understandably uncomfortable.
In a way, my resentfulness was probably driven by a latent jealousy of him. He was normal. I knew that he would go on to other partners he would make a full connection with – normal partners.
Someone might one day ask him “what was the craziest thing you ever did to try to please someone,” and I would likely be the answer to that question someday. And then people would laugh. And that made me angry.
I still remember how I felt when I thought about it, with this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It seems so stupid to me now, but at the time my inability to understand this part of me ruined one of the best friendships I will ever have.
Yet I do somewhat understand it. Because I remember how badly I wished I could give up diapers for Mark – and that made me hate Mark even more. Even as I thought about who would be the next important person in Mark’s life, I also had to be wondering if I would ever make that kind of connection with anyone, ever, in my life.
Years later, of course, I know the answer to that question.
This community has helped me form the kinds of connections that teenage me thought would probably elude me forever.
You guys, collectively, have connected with me in ways I would have never thought possible.
I’ve met some of you in person. Others I haven’t gotten to. But the online conversations we’ve had, and the connections we’ve made, have made my life richer in ways that I can’t even begin to
We speak the same language.
We are the only people who do. We don’t realize that, of course, until we do our first internet search – “why do I like diapers” – and finally find out that we’re not alone.
But once we do, and we realize how ‘not alone’ we actually are, a feeling of relief sweeps over us.
We realize that we have a second family out there.
A community.
People who understand us in a way that nobody else could ever hope to.
Our secrets – and the connection we feel when we finally find someone else who speaks our secret language – is why the bonds we make with one another are so strong.
And, why the heartache is even stronger when one of those connections flakes.
That empty feeling is actually how Abysitter.com got started.
I readily admit that I began blogging for a pretty selfish reason: I wanted to stop losing ABDL connections.
I had seen signs that Aby.com was having trouble, and I questioned whether RUPadded.com could pick up where they left off if they ever shut down.
There was talk of mods being mean to users, and deleting them out of spite.
DiaperSpace.com was also struggling, and ABDL accounts on MySpace were being deleted by the hundreds.
If FetLife existed yet, we hadn’t found it.
So, between that and all of the binging and purging that was so common then, who knew if someone’s account would even be there if/when they returned for it?
So I reserved my Aby.com username, “Abysitter”, as a dot-com.
I’d already made some pretty powerful connections with people on the diaper sites, and lost them when they binged/purged or mods deleted their accounts – I couldn’t imagine losing you all if a site, or all of the sites, went down.
(For you little dunces, I’ll just say this: today our community is stronger than ever – in 2008 things were very different).
Anyway, I made an account on Blogger, and I advertised the link to Abysitter.com online a bit, and I started writing some stories.
Imagine my excitement when, days later – or maybe even weeks lol – I realized that someone besides me had actually viewed my blog for the first time!
Picture the look on my face, as I lay in a diaper slurping on my bottle, furiously typing out my next story, knowing that someone would likely read it!!!
After a while it became clear I had at least two regular readers.
Multiples!
I was super excited now. At least two people – maybe more, even – were making a habit of visiting abysitter.com to see what Chris had to say.
Soon, people were commenting. You’d better believe I was going all in, now. I was writing stories about personal stuff – going way back to my childhood, to my teen years, to my college days, covering everything.
Cwis was born. 8
Over time, those comments turned in to emails. And the emails turned in to phone calls.
And that’s when I truly began to realize that my blog was more than a bit of ABDL entertainment for people.
Sure, some people probably came by, read a story or two, squirted, and merc’d.
But there were people my stories actually meant something to.
It turned out to be a lot of people.
You have no idea what that meant to first realize that.
I remember being in high school, faced for the first time with the realization that the boy I had fallen in love with – my bi-curious best friend – would never be able to fully connect with me.
He would never truly understand me, despite his best efforts. As understanding as he had tried to be, spending time on his own researching my fetish and even being willing to experiment with it a little, he would never be able to truly understand.
Mark could try to get inside my head, but he would never truly be inside the headspace.
Sometimes I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for myself, or sorry for him. But I was sorry for us, because everything about him was amazing, and yet I had this... flaw...
He knew I couldn’t get rid of it, so he tried to get into it.
I was moved by Mark trying so hard to connect with this, but deep down, I think I resented him. He had shown me as much love as anyone I’d ever known, offering to try this weird, perverted thing he knew that I had a strange affection for. His inability to enjoy it like I did should never have been held against him. But I was young, and stupid.
When I think back to how I felt, I hope my feelings didn’t reflect how I acted.
This was my best friend. His efforts to be the best possible friend anyone could ever hope for made me depressed when he was unsuccessful, and it eventually left him feeling understandably uncomfortable.
In a way, my resentfulness was probably driven by a latent jealousy of him. He was normal. I knew that he would go on to other partners he would make a full connection with – normal partners.
Someone might one day ask him “what was the craziest thing you ever did to try to please someone,” and I would likely be the answer to that question someday. And then people would laugh. And that made me angry.
I still remember how I felt when I thought about it, with this empty feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It seems so stupid to me now, but at the time my inability to understand this part of me ruined one of the best friendships I will ever have.
Yet I do somewhat understand it. Because I remember how badly I wished I could give up diapers for Mark – and that made me hate Mark even more. Even as I thought about who would be the next important person in Mark’s life, I also had to be wondering if I would ever make that kind of connection with anyone, ever, in my life.
Years later, of course, I know the answer to that question.
This community has helped me form the kinds of connections that teenage me thought would probably elude me forever.
You guys, collectively, have connected with me in ways I would have never thought possible.
I’ve met some of you in person. Others I haven’t gotten to. But the online conversations we’ve had, and the connections we’ve made, have made my life richer in ways that I can’t even begin to
describe. If we’ve connected and you don’t see your name in the list above, don’t fret – I see you. I appreciate you.
I once wondered if I would ever be able to shake this diaper thing. I longed to be ‘normal’, to be rid of this thing that would define my personality, my sexuality, and other facets of who I am.
Fast forward a few years. Being a part of this community is such a part of my identity that I can honestly say I couldn’t live without it. I am proud of who I am. And none of that would have happened without all of you.
I fucking love diapers, yo.
Not just for how I feel when I’m hanging out with a little bro. Nor only because of how magical the headspace is that I’ve retreated to so often through the years.
Both of those things are amazing, of course, and I don’t take them for granted for a minute.
But the reason I love diapers the most is because there’s a community filled with thousands of people who – let’s be honest – wouldn’t even be a community without them.
The one connection in all of our lives: diapers.
So yes, I’ll readily admit it: sometimes I find myself outside, laying padded under the stars, gazing up, and thinking about how lucky I am to – whatever the reason – be ABDL.
I say lucky because, for want of this little garment of plastic-backed absorbency, I wouldn’t have been lucky enough to get to know most of you.
And, for want of those relationships, my life would be a fraction as full as it is today.
No, sir – this stinking, urine-stained piece of terrycloth covered in some sort of yellowing plastic or vinyl, as objectionable as it may be to most of society by our age, has somehow remained important – imperative, even – in my life. And in yours.
It is the singular thing that has helped us forge connections with people we would likely never have met otherwise.
Without diapers – the same diapers most kids can’t wait to be done with – how fucking ordinary would our lives be?
Imagine all we would have missed out on.
Many of the most amazing people to ever enter my life have entered it wearing a Bambino. And I’ve changed many of them. Hopefully for the better, hehe.
Yes, you folks are my padded family, and my life wouldn’t be the same without you.
So as the holidays approach, it occurs to me: I think that we don’t take nearly enough time to tell one another how much we appreciate each other.
So let me be the one to begin. I appreciate you.
I want to thank each of you for riding with me these past eight years.
Cwis
You contest entrants, and contest sponsors, and contest voters. You guest entry writers. You diaper models sending in so many adorable pictures. You Q&A answerers.
And, last but not least, you readers.
All of you.
It has been an amazing journey, and if you have been a part of it in any way whatsoever, I thank you.
I mean that. Thank you.
I once wondered if I would ever be able to shake this diaper thing. I longed to be ‘normal’, to be rid of this thing that would define my personality, my sexuality, and other facets of who I am.
Fast forward a few years. Being a part of this community is such a part of my identity that I can honestly say I couldn’t live without it. I am proud of who I am. And none of that would have happened without all of you.
I fucking love diapers, yo.
Not just for how I feel when I’m hanging out with a little bro. Nor only because of how magical the headspace is that I’ve retreated to so often through the years.
Both of those things are amazing, of course, and I don’t take them for granted for a minute.
But the reason I love diapers the most is because there’s a community filled with thousands of people who – let’s be honest – wouldn’t even be a community without them.
The one connection in all of our lives: diapers.
So yes, I’ll readily admit it: sometimes I find myself outside, laying padded under the stars, gazing up, and thinking about how lucky I am to – whatever the reason – be ABDL.
I say lucky because, for want of this little garment of plastic-backed absorbency, I wouldn’t have been lucky enough to get to know most of you.
And, for want of those relationships, my life would be a fraction as full as it is today.
No, sir – this stinking, urine-stained piece of terrycloth covered in some sort of yellowing plastic or vinyl, as objectionable as it may be to most of society by our age, has somehow remained important – imperative, even – in my life. And in yours.
It is the singular thing that has helped us forge connections with people we would likely never have met otherwise.
Without diapers – the same diapers most kids can’t wait to be done with – how fucking ordinary would our lives be?
Imagine all we would have missed out on.
Many of the most amazing people to ever enter my life have entered it wearing a Bambino. And I’ve changed many of them. Hopefully for the better, hehe.
Yes, you folks are my padded family, and my life wouldn’t be the same without you.
So as the holidays approach, it occurs to me: I think that we don’t take nearly enough time to tell one another how much we appreciate each other.
So let me be the one to begin. I appreciate you.
I want to thank each of you for riding with me these past eight years.
Cwis
You contest entrants, and contest sponsors, and contest voters. You guest entry writers. You diaper models sending in so many adorable pictures. You Q&A answerers.
And, last but not least, you readers.
All of you.
It has been an amazing journey, and if you have been a part of it in any way whatsoever, I thank you.
I mean that. Thank you.
