Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality
Here a dump of other postings i’ve made in regards to this topic.
So like this has always been thing for me for as long as i can remember back and i started to act on it when i was a teenager. I wasnt probably the most clandestine person about it, my mother is very intrusive person by her nature, and eventually ended in some pretty humiliating situations with my parents.
Like i used to stash something in a spare acoustic guitar case that had a lock on it, was never really thought about by anyone but me, and was tucked away in a corner in what wouldve been my area of the home. Well one summer after my senior year of hs while i was taking gen eds at a local school for easy transferable credits my phone starts going off like crazy in the middle of my three writing course. Put it on vibrate, press the fuck you button multiple times to indicate i cant talk, but still going off every minute. Finally we break, so i go to smoke and check my phone. I had like 50 calls from my mother so i call her back in case it was an emergency or something with my father who was in poor health at time (heart attack). Nope, the interrorgation begins immediately.
Whats in the guitar case mark?
Whats usually in guitar cases mom?
You know what i mean mark.
No i dont, do you mean there is a guitar in a guitar case? Who would do that, use a guitar case like that?
You know what i mean dont get fucking smart with me. The one down stairs, thats locked and has a bunch of things rattling in it when i shake it.
Oh shit my heat was pounding at this point, did i remeber to scramble the lock at all or did i just switch one digit on the lock ( i was lazy and used the same three numbers at the time, not very smart of me). All kinds of thoughts start racing through my head minds going a mile a minute, should i cut class to head this situation off, how can i stop from prying into the situation, etc.
Silence on my end for about a good thirty seconds.
Probably just some tuners and pedals i left in there.
Oh yeah? So whats the code to open it then?
Uhhh i cant really remember but i have to head back into class right now it is resuming. Why dont you try to figure it out. Bye.
Click.
So, about 30 minutes before class lets out for the day i recieve a text that just simply says “what the fuck mark? What is wrong with you?”.
Sheer terror, my stomach drops, my head feels light, i feel detached from myself wholely and completely.
Dreading walking through the door on my drive home from class, my phone ringing off the hook, and knowing that this will only end in a screaming match despite my effort to deescalate the situation.
I bite the bullet and make a risky call.
Rushing up the drive way like a mad man, i can read that my mom is on the second floor of the house in my bedroom (actually ripping it apart looking for more evidence but she didnt find any that day) so i have at least a minute to destroy the evidence so to speak. Park the car, leaving it running actually, i bolt in the back door which had the stairs leading to the basement which could be locked off from the kitchen. Lock the kitchen access point and hustle my ass down the stairs to the basement, rounding the corner of the stairs i already catch my guitar case open with its contents splayed out (some med abena m4s, powder, vaseline, seperate shaving bag i used for myself at the time to avoid mixing up razors, and various skin care creams that a normal teenager just wouldnt have) in my field of vision, heart actually skips a beat. I hear my mother moving from the second to first floor as i am scrambling to grab a trash bag to dispose of everything. Got everything into the bag right as she hits the kitchen door “why is this fucking door locked mark? Come here we need to talk right now!” , just screaming at me in the most unpleasent and disrespectful manner. I ignore her completely and soon i hear here moving towards the front door, so i bolt out the back throwing everything into the back seat of the car and haul ass out of there towards the municipal garbage dumpsters the city had by the little league fields. Phone is ringing off the hook, keep pounding the fuck you button, no time to think, only to act.
I pull up by the dumpsters, of course everyone is out for games/practice that day, reach into my back seat and alli oop that shit right into the dumpster from car window then run out and slam the dumpster lid. Nerves somewhat settled, i calmly head back home.
“What the fuck mark, where is it?”, greets me when i step out my car. “Where is what?” I chide like a smartass as im strolling to the back door. “The fucking diapers mark? What the fuck is wrong with you, are you some kind of freak or a fucking pedophile?”, she says this outside in a manner that the whole passing world and neighbors can hear. I go inside, she furously follows and corners me for questioning in the basement. I stick to my story “i dont see any of these things here, where is the evidence against me?”. After a screaming match that im sure the whole world heard i just began to ignore her criticisims and deconstruction of my character, acting like it didnt even happen because jn the end she had no proof against (thankfully she is technically inept and cant work a smart phone to save her life so no pictures).
Im still pretty sure she has told members of her immediate family, because of some off color remarks that have been made to me and awkward glances when subjects similar to this have been brought up in different environments (ex. worked with my aunt in resturant she was a server, i was a delivery driver, one of the girls in the kitchen is talking with another and some how an abdl topic is inserted in the conversation because of day time talk television, she looks at me while this is going with a little shit eating smirk).
I have very vague memories of toilet training, more like echos really.
Apparently, I was super good about it and picked it up pretty quick. I do remember have a few accidents in montessori but I was just changed out into a spare clothing (all students had a few extra sets in the storage/coat hang area). I remember being super upset one day that everyone was calling my farmer john because I was wearing bib’d overalls that day and going into the corner of the arts and craft area and spite pissing in the corner. For there were a few extended car trips where I was put back into pull ups due to the duration of the drive and because I was prone to having accidents in the car for a few years after training for whatever reason.
The whole thing with my mother threatening to put me back in diapers because I was acting like a baby when I would have out bursts between the ages of 3-8 is interesting to remember.
In all seriousness though who threatens a fucking child with that? Like, really? You think this is good mental reinforcement techniques?
I’ll edit in more later, gotta go.
I’m teasing of course but it was funny. To me anyway…