ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

Hello All,

First post in awhile, and first one not looking for a story. This is just a question about sort of stereotypical ABDl story situations and whether any of these have happened in real life to people, mainly as a child, but as an adult too I guess? I’m talking sort of:

  • Wetting yourself as a child and being put in a diaper by a babysitter or parent
  • Being a bedwetter then being allowed or forced to wear during the day
  • Being found doing something babyish/childish and then being diaper disciplined in some way
  • Playing with younger kids and treated as the same age
    And any others…

When I was around 4 or 5 I remember peeing in a potty at my grandparent’s house (didn’t even sit down, what a wasted opportunity), but stupidly didn’t flush it away. My mum had a word with me and my brother about the fact we were too old to use it, but that was it (bro must have known it was me but I’m sure it was obvious anyway). I also remember having an accident in year 1 (6-7 yrs old) at school but there wasn’t any punishment from that. I’m just intrigued to know if they’re sort of purely fantasy or if the tropes are based on some real life situations.


Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

Just realised there is a ‘Questions and Advice’ board that maybe this post should be in instead. Also noticed there was a similar post before:


I’m not asking if the whole stories have been based on real life, just some of the smaller instances.

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

When I was in middle school, my mother and grandmother ran a daycare in the house. If any of the older (toilet trained) children had an accident, they wound up in a diaper for however long it took to get their pants washed and dried. If they wet the diaper, or there wasn’t time to wash and dry the clothes prior to the parents picking them up, they were sent home in the diaper instead.

And they were castigated for it - this wasn’t a pragmatism thing, it was humiliation. If the child was a chronic wetter, a swat or two on the bottom was usually included.

Crazy part is, the parents all agreed to it. First time a new kid had an accident, Mom or Gram would just change the clothes and inform the parent, “Around here, little (insert gender of child here) who pee in their pants get to wear diapers.” Parent would thoughtfully agree. After that, any further slips would result in the aforementioned.

This was in the mid-late 80’s, though. I doubt seriously a parent would even agree to such a thing these days. CPS would likely be called in on a daycare that rolled like that.

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

When I was about five a classmate needed to pee just after I’d gone in the bathroom (as in I heard him complaining while I was still getting to the toilet). He, AIUI, didn’t make it to the other bathroom and the next day I recall him mentioning that he’d been put in a diapee for at least the day.

I did end up in diapers again at night when older for chronic bedwetting after I’d stopped.

I also recall, probably about age seven, my dad offered a girl sleeping over a diaper for bedtime, and she accepted, though she didn’t need it (I’m pretty sure) and mentioned the convenience.

I suspect all of these have some bearing on my ending up a part of this forum, though only the first really fits your question.

As for the situations, I expect if you could find the stories, all to many of them have really been done to children somewhere.

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

When I was with my ex boyfriend, his ex’s girlfriend’s daughter refused to be toilet trained so she always went in her pull up and then she was peeing and pooping in her underwear and hiding it and then at age 10 or 11 she had a choice to wear diapers or she stops, she picked diapers and they were told now that she had started her period, it is very unlikely she will ever stop. She had no medical problems.

When my sister in law was little, she had an accident so she was put in diapers for the rest of the day, she never did it again.

When my husband was a kid, there was a girl in special ed who wore diapers because her daddy said if she is going to be in special ed like a retard, she will be treated as such. One day my husband over heard teachers talking about it saying they were going to be calling CPS and my husband never saw the child again.

When I was in a self contained classroom when I was 6 and 7, there was a girl in my class with incontinence and she was psychically disabled. She didn’t seem to mind her diapers or even seemed to care when she would stink. She would poop in them and stink the the whole entire classroom and she didn’t even bat an eye about it and none of the teachers called for the school nurse to come change her or even do it themselves. I was the only one who ever complained about the smell. To this day it still boggles my mind how anyone could let her sit in her mess smelling. It never occurred to me she might also have had a mental disability too. She sounded normal, talked normal, acted normal, followed the rules and never acted up not once but she was always very mature but yet she never seemed to mind that she stunk and didn’t bat an eye about it. She didn’t even leave the classroom so we wouldn’t have to keep smelling it. For years I just wondered if she was a IC DL because of the way she acted about her diapers and they always showed and it was always obvious unless she was using her disability as an excuse for it so she just didn’t care, especially about the smell. But that left me confused for years and no one believed me. That is when someone told me online “Are you sure she was in that class because of her stinky diapers because that would be very sad if she was placed in there based on her medical condition.” I was placed in that class because of my severe language delay and other kids were placed in there for different reasons. But everyone thought I was slow so I was also put in there until my parents got me out. So I figured maybe that girl didn’t belong in there either because if I didn’t then maybe the other kids didn’t belong in there either that also looked normal or acted normal. But that was what was done back in the days before inclusion.

All this sounds like something you would hear in a typical ABDL story.

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

None. :frowning:

-I was potty trained pretty early.
-Last time i remember wetting the bed was at age 4, can’t remember any before or after.
-I remember a total of four daytime accidents, two of which were a misjudged flu fart. No punishment for the others.
-All of my brothers were bedwetters until their preteens, two of them had accidents during the day until at least 7, no punishments. (Though the accidents were from obvious laziness)

And I’ve not seen any of the like happen to any other kids.

I really have no idea what started my interest in this, whatsoever.

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

So… 6? :smiley: I’m teasing of course but it was funny. To me anyway…

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

Pretty sure he meant inclusive ie [5, 7]

I wet the bed occasionally until 5-6 years old, occasional daytime accidents until 4. No exposure to diapers aside from siblings. No interest in them that I can remember until about 10 years old when I took one of my youngest brother’s pull-ups. Don’t remember why I did. Then again, my early childhood is pretty much a black hole in my memory.

Re: ABDL Story Situations vs Reality

I was enrolled in a daycare/preschool that operated like that. Except it was more pragmatic then punishment, as this school was targeted at disabled students. I fell afoul of that rule many times, ironically it backfired as it proably delayed my gaining full control of my bladder until i was about 8, and thus lead to more diapers

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.


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.