Fall 2012

It's been a weird year for my diapered side. In my last post in August 2011, I talked about an ebbing in my desire to be diapered followed by a moment of sudden longing for them. It hasn't been as drastic since then, but the whole diaper thing has definitely fallen on my list of priorities. To a large extent, feel like a lot of the psychological territory which I needed to explore through diapers has been covered, in a large part thanks to the fact that I was able to organize my thoughts on the matter through this blog. My control has been at an all time peak over the past year. I've kept accidents to about one a month, and these have been pretty small leaks that didn't even justify posting about here. Recently though, my control has taken something of a dip.

On September 22, 2012, I wet the bed for the first time since I was 16. I was on a trip, camping at a music festival. I was trying to do some writing while on this vacation, and as excited as I was to be there, I was also under a lot of strain. There had been a lot going on when I left, including issues with our landlord. Whatever the reason, I completely peed my pants. I remember sort of waking up when it was happening, not really sure what was going on, before drifting back to sleep. I woke up later in the night wet and cold, and at first I thought that it was a wet dream, because I had already peed right before bed. It still would have been embarrassing, but it would have made me feel at least slightly more grown up. I got out of the tent to avoid waking my girlfriend and check myself with a flashlight. I was way too wet for it to have just been a nocturnal emission. It surprised me, because every other time I can recall wetting the bed it was a full bladder wetting. This time, I totally could have held it until morning, but for whatever reason I didn't.

I think it has something  to do with stress. Although I do feel like I have a generally weak bladder, I've been noticing that my most recent accidents have coincided with times of unusual emotional extremes. This evening a friend of mine (who has no idea about my wetting or diapered desires) recounted an interesting psychological case that I feel might shed a little light in that direction.

This friend was really into hypnotism for a while, (medical, not stage) and was training to become a professional. During his study, he encountered the story of a case in which a young girl came to a particularly famous hypnotist to solve her severe bedwetting issues.

The girl did not believe she would ever be able to control her body like that. It gave her all kinds of confidence issues, including her ability to do simple tasks like tie her shoes. The hypnotist decided to approach her problem by helping her to master tying her shoes. Once she had done that, he helped her learn a few more skills. Finally, after having conquered a number of the other difficulties in her life, she stopped wetting the bed on her own.

Maybe this whole fetish is just some kind of complex. Maybe my desire is diminishing because I'm working other things out. Maybe my wetting only comes back when I feel like I can't face the other challenges in my life.

On the other hand, I had an incident where I was counting a cash register at work and couldn't leave it to use the bathroom even though I really had to pee. I held it for a long time, but after a little while I started to feel a little leak. Nothing major or visible, just my underwear getting a little damp. I finished the drawer, made it safely to the bathroom, and didn't think too much of it. All weekend though, I've been having little drips. It sucks because my underwear has been pretty much constantly damp and uncomfortable. I doesn't quite justify a diaper, but some of those Depends "Guards For Men" would probably help. Honestly though, incontinence products are so expensive that I feel like it wouldn't be worth it, and as far as fetish stuff goes, the guards have no attraction for me. I feel like the leaks may have something to do with stress at work and difficulty completing personal projects because I am devoting so much time to a job I don't enjoy.

These little leaks will probably disappear on their own, but if they get worse I will probably see a urologist. To be honest, I don't have the desire to be in diapers full time like I used to. It might be liberating to take a vacation from the toilet now and again, but these day I want to be a normal, continent adult. If I ever have kids, I don't want to be hiding my diapers from them. Whatever the reasons may be for my wanting or sometimes needing them, I hope they continue to fade. So much about the politics of sexual identity have come to strike me as excuses. Having lived my whole life with this fetish, I have really come to regard it as something that is not an immutable part of me, but a pattern of behavior I fell into because my life was in some way unsatisfying.

This leads me to a chapter of my hidden fetish life I've never written about before. There was this weird thing in about fourth grade where I developed a smoking fetish for a couple of years. My fantasies were largely focused on the idea of a good girl who secretly started experimenting with cigarettes and became hopelessly addicted to the point where she couldn't hide it any more. The helplessness of addiction was, in my mind, analogous to my helplessness incontinence. I would sometimes fantasize about girls who were completely addicted to cigarettes in addition to being unable to control their bladders. As soon as I hit my early teenage years, the fascination with cigarettes and addiction resolved itself and disappeared. I remember having my fantasy girl quit smoking at the end of one of my fantasies about her, and that was that.

When I was seventeen, my sexuality metamorphosed again. I suddenly developed an intense desire to be forced to wear girls' clothes and have sex with guys. Much to my surprise, this has since gone almost totally away. I still think the idea is pretty hot, and I'm not ashamed to describe myself as open to homosexual experiences, but the desperate desire for it is gone. The furthest I ever went with it was to attend a fetish party in a pair of cute panties from Limited Too with rainbows and hearts on them. I got spanked, and that was it. I still have that underwear sitting at the bottom of my drawer, but I haven't felt the need to wear them since that night.

I think that all of these sexual quirks might have stemmed from unresolved issues regarding humiliation. They probably developed over some early encounter with that feeling. I can't really recall the first time I felt really humiliated, though. Nothing pops out, especially not prior to memories of wanting to wear diapers, which are some of the earliest things I can recall. Maybe it was during my very early potty training, when I was so young that my body wasn't physically capable of living up to my mother's expectations that I would make it to the toilet. Can a child less then two years old feel humiliation? Perhaps in feeling like I'm close to achieving real adulthood, my wetting and fetishistic desires are both going away.

I think that human sexuality is much more mutable than most people give it credit for. Based on my personal experience, I've come to hold the opinion that any person can, at the right moment, fall into any fetish, no matter how strange. It all seems to hinge on the way fetishes tend to fill some void in a person's life, or express something that they feel deep inside but can't quite put into words. Perhaps by putting the strange history of my desires down in writing, I've given outlet to the secret feelings they were expressing.

And yet, here I am wearing a diaper as I write this. The need to go is building, and I'm absolutely going to enjoy using it. I don't feel the need to push myself to give them up, but I feel open to the idea that at some point it might happen by itself. Come to think of it, this is probably what a healthy potty training feels like. An unusual feeling to be having at the age of twenty-six, but at this point I've pretty much stopped caring if I am unusual or not.

So, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to wet myself.