X Butterfly Effect - J
X BUTTERFLY EFFECT - J
For the duration of this document, I will refer to myself as "J", I was 16 at the time I wrote this story.
I'm not sure it matters, but I am male.
I only enjoy specific aspects of a baby life style, and do not wish to be treated fully as a baby.
This story is not about some feel-good fantasy, it's about why I have my doubts and regrets. I figure documenting this somewhere will help me get this off my chest.
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I was the first child to be born after my family's previous generation. Nobody would have a kid for another 4 years. Being the only child in your entire family for the first 4 years has some adverse effects.
I was always "playing" with adults and didn't have any friends my age. The smell of cigarettes, gasoline, and alcohol still give me great nostalgia to this day.
When I was old enough for daycare, my interests were alien to my peers. My ideas would never fully catch on with the average child. I had not yet understood loneliness, so this was fine. I didn't need immature brats as friends anyway, I could just go home and do something cooler.
After my aunt adopted her first daughter, nobody had told me of the existence of this new cousin until the family reunion at my grandmother's trailer home. When I first met her, I was picking up on signs that she was wearing a diaper, despite being 2 years older than me.
My interest was peaked, how could this person still be in diapers at her age. I had always assumed all parents potty trained their kids before 3, and this was very unexpected in my 4 year old mind.
I asked my aunt why my cousin was wearing a diaper, and I was told that she didn't quite make it to the potty and messed her pants, so she had to wear a diaper.
I was still confused, and decided to go back out to the porch to discuss it with my cousin. After several minutes of back and forth discussion, a deep jealousy was beginning to bubble in my subconscious mind.
For the following weeks, I could not get diapers off my mind. And like my inability to comprehend loneliness, I couldn't yet comprehend shame either. I made my first scheme. I was to hold it until nap time the next day, then ask the teacher to go moments before I release, then claim accident.
The next day right before nap time, I asked the teacher the golden question. To my shock: a resounding "no!". I urgently hopped from foot to foot, desperate not to fill my "big" boy underwear. My puny toddler gut couldn't hold it, and I pooped my pants.
The teacher looked disgusted, took me by the wrist, and yanked me into the bathroom. I was laid onto a cheap changing table then had my messy pants removed, a size 6 baby diaper taking their place.
She confiscated my pants and underwear to be washed and sent me back into the play room. My jealousy was satisfied for now.
Two years later, my younger sister was born. I had all but forgotten about my cousin's predicament, and I hadn't thought about diapers for a long while. I was far too interested in the world around me to remember what I used to be so jealous about.
After a dozen and a half months had passed, she had grown big enough for size 6. And after getting a glimpse of the box of diapers in her room, some long lost memories were restored. The jealousy returned.
While my parents were out in the living room, I snuck in and took a single diaper, then speedily returned to my room. I removed my pants and unfolded the diaper. I clumsily fastened it around my crotch and just took it all in.
Standing there in just a shirt and the diaper, I was oblivious to the sound of my parent's approaching footsteps. The door opened behind me and my diapered butt was exposed to their prying eyes. I was ordered to remove it, and that was that.
My parents were to concerned with financial issues to investigate further. I realized how embarrassing this is, and began to understand the importance of stealth.
I successfully hid my interest for several years, all the way up until my first year of middle school. By now, I had not worn a diaper for six years, but that was about to change.
The school spirit week included a "generations day" where sixth graders were babies, 7th adults, 8th elderly. There was just one little detail: you were allowed to wear a diaper over your pants. I didn't care about this, but the implications this had for me.
A lot of the sixth grade class wore their grandparent's adult diapers to school, I capitalized off of this. By the end of the day, I had acquired at least 7 diapers.
After the end of class, I went into the bathroom and put one on under my pants, then left for the bus. I hid all the extra diapers in my backpack.
I had just pulled off my most successful diaper heist. I stored the diapers inside the stuffing of my mattress and in a cavity under my dresser. I would wear them overnight for the next few weeks.
Midway through middle school, my parents found out about my continued secret obsession when they found one of my cousin's soaked pull-ups under my bed, and had me put in a mental health center known as hickory trails.
They dropped me off at 2:10ish am and left me with the staff. I was led through several hallways with barred windows and reinforced steel doors. We entered the male wing and I was instructed to remove all dangerous objects. (shoe laces, belts)
After being patted down, I was led into the female wing and into a vacant room, and it was not a pleasant sight. The only window was barred and had a straight shot view into a nearby tree line, a long stain looked as if someone had been dragged from the bed and across the floor. I didn't dare touch the beds, opting to sit in the corner.
A few moments later, a nurse came in and was startled by my unexpected position on the floor and not the bed. She ordered me to give a urine sample, but I was unable to, so I would have to wait until morning.
The nurse had suddenly decided I wouldn't sleep, and left me to my devices. After about an hour of sitting on the floor in the corner, it started getting really cold, and my only solution was the bed. I fell asleep in less than thirty minutes.
When I woke up, I was led back over to the male wing and was directed to my room, it was not much of an improvement. The bedside cubby had crude satanic carvings sprawling across the inside.
From this point on, it was wake up, check vitals, eat, "activity" eat, sleep, repeat. My secret had been so closely guarded for so long I couldn't bring myself to talk about why I did what I did when asked. It was because of this that my stay was extended a week and a half.
Over the course of my stay I had been doped up on so many medications that I just slept throughout most of the next month, even if I was just walking down the isle at a store, BAM! Asleep on the floor. It screwed up my sleep cycle so much that I was sleeping in 30 minute intervals every hour or so.
My parents felt guilty about how the staff treated me and tried to make up for it with gifts I didn't really care about. When we finally got the diagnosis, my parents started treating me like I was something special. I'd been diagnosed with autism.
I'm still not sure about that to this day, that establishment was pretty sketchy. They didn't "fix" my little diaper problem either, so now I just felt guilty every time I thought about diapers. I was beginning to realize that I just wanted the childhood I never had. I was to afraid to say that to my parents.
When I began high school, everyone in my family had grown out of diapers, and there was a massive drought for a couple years. I've been thinking a lot about the morality of what I've done, I can't help but wonder if things would have been better if I just told them the truth.
I like wearing diapers because I'm autistic as hell. I've grown to hate myself for wanting diapers, and yet I still can't seem to suppress my urges.
If you have something big you need to tell a loved one, trust me, them knowing about it is more important than the embarrassment associated with telling them. Don't be afraid to tell your secrets to people you trust. Don't be like me. Don't hide your desires, because all other desires will be falsified to protect the one true desire.
Written By: Codename: J
E-Mail: aarishere@gmail.com