I posted several things on this site, and this is my first real story about me and my many memories centered around messing my diaper as a toddler, memories I use to cope with having irritable bowel with diarrhea. They are also what gave me my user name, “GurryBabyBoy,” because as a child, I used to call my poop “gur.” You can read about the synesthetic sensations tied with soiling my diapers on the “Questions and Advice” link. It is a discussion about how to have a big firm one in a diaper.
When preparing to write my very first post on this site, I needed a suitable spelling for “gur.” Only until now has it been used in substitute for “poop.” As mentioned earlier, as I grew older, “gur” became only my favorite word I would think of, but not say aloud because, let’s face it. Nobody else calls their poop gur. It’s a made-up term I used because of my synesthesia tied to poop held against my taint. While prepping for my first post, I tried a bunch of different spellings (gir, girr, ger, gerr, grrr, etc." Finally, I settled on gur with one r due to the fact that two r’s would spell someone’s last name and that wouldn’t be cool. So “gur” is now a word I use mentally in my private time when having fun in a loaded diaper. Gurry diapers, for me, take me back to my two-year-old days and even further back in time. Though I have no memories of me as an infant, I phantacise that I am anywhere from 6 to 9 months of age and I gur my diaper and mush it against my butt.
And now, the memories. The text below was taken from a post I submitted on Readit regarding my childhood memories; however, on that site, I used the word, “poop,” not “gur.” Only here will I change it to “gur” in the text below.
The earliest memory I have (and I swear I remember it) is of me at a very young age. I was born in the late 1970’s. So I must have been little over a year in 1979. Anyhow, I was playing on a set of wooden stairs in someone’s house. Whose house it was, I don’t know, but I remember that the stairs came down into the kitchen from the second floor. As long as I can remember, I have always had firm, slightly moist poops (not counting when I was having problems with the impacted bowel I later got as a child of six years.) While playing on the stairs, I felt that familiar “I have to go” feeling. It is funny, and I don’t know why, but I will explain the feeling, one I miss having as a baby boy. It started with the usual feeling of pressure in my butt, and at the same time, I felt a pleasant feeling in my head, like my scalp was sort-of tightening up or crawling, and I got a very euphoric feeling as my poop, which I think of and would rather refer to it as “gur,” slid out of me and into my diaper. The way the gur pushed against the diaper was pleasurable, and nothing else mattered. Every single part of me had become entwined with the feel of the warm gur as my bowels naturally pushed it into my diaper, and that was all I concentrated on.
I don’t know why, but this is the only memory I have of having two loads back-to-back in one diaper. After the first gur, I went down the stairs and stood off to the right of them, hanging onto a door frame with my right hand, meanwhile, enjoying the feel of the hot gur held against my butt by the disposable diaper I wore. Like I said above, I zoned out, and my total concentration was on that big warm thing in my diaper, the very thing that brought me so much joy and pleasure. I guess I stood there for a minute, though in my infantile brain, it seemed much longer, and all that time, I enjoyed the warmth of that big, cheesy gur on my butt before my bowels opened once more and I gurred involuntarily with the same feelings as described above. Now, I had two firm masses of gur in my diaper, and one stayed on my butt while the other slid forward into my perineum. If only I could relive that moment again! It felt so good! I remember standing there, still holding onto that door frame, and swaying slowly from side-to-side on my little legs and the way the gur felt as it shifted from the right to the left and vice-versa between my thighs. I stood there doing that until Mom discovered I was gurryy, and she changed me.
We had long since moved from that house, where the “two gurs in one diaper” incident occurred, and we lived across from the phone company in a house that was demolished to put in a public pool after we moved out. I must have been close to two at the time. Back then, I used to do this thing that started around the time I was six months old. Mom didn’t know what I was doing, and so she took me to the doctor. I would lie prone on the floor, double up both fists, put them beneath me, and rock my butt in an up-and-down motion. Concerned, Mom took me to the doctor, who assured her by telling her that what I was doing was completely normal and not harmful. Well, I still did that as a toddler.
One warm night, Mom, our live-in family friend, who was like a dad to me, and my brother and sister were in the living room watching TV. I toddled off into the bathroom to look around, and I climbed up onto the shelving that was built into a little cubby beside the bath tub, and I stood on the shelf below the very top and was looking around when suddenly, I gurred. As like before, this was a big load, but I only pushed one out. Then, I heard my brother enter the bathroom. “What are you doing?” he asked me, and I feared the dreaded diaper change that I knew would come next. I didn’t want to be changed. I was enjoying myself. I turned around, backed up against the back wall of the cubby, and dropped to my butt on that bare wood shelf. Oh, the joy I felt as that big warm gur flattened into a pancake and spread to cover both butt cheeks, my upper but, and my perineum.
“Let’s get you down before you fall.” my brother said, and he lifted me from the shelf, carried me into the living room, and stood me on my feet. I remember his hand being under my butt as he carried me and how I laid my head on his shoulder, totally relaxed as I enjoyed the firm pressure exerted against the gur on my butt. I don’t know why, but for some reason, he didn’t tell mom I had gurred, or maybe his nose was plugged and he couldn’t smell it, but on that night, I was able to go unnoticed for a while.
Earlier, I wrote about humping with my fists under me. Well, after my brother put me on the floor, I toddled into the carpeted dining room, lied on my belly, put my fists under me, and did my thing, meanwhile enjoying the way that squished gur rubbed on my butt. I must have done that for a considerable amount of time before I got up and toddled toward the stairs that led up to the second floor. “Bubby pooped.” my big sister told our mother, who grabbed me and changed me.
This happened a few months after we had moved from the house, in which I climbed upon the bathroom shelf and gurred myself. While lying in the front room floor and doing my thing, I gurred. I didn’t even stop to gur, but instead, I kept on during the whole process, which lasted around maybe fifteen seconds, or so I am guessing. I was a “one push” gurrer, and whenever I gurred, I didn’t have to hold my breath or strain. Anyhow, after the firm gur filled the butt of my diaper, I continued doing my belly thing, enjoying the way the gur rubbed and jiggled against my butt…
Though I really didn’t like gurry diaper changes, I let Mom change me without making a fuss, and I don’t think she caught onto the fact that I enjoyed being a gurry baby boy. And so it was that night. Mom was in the kitchen, and I remember “Happy Days” was playing on the TV. Well, I wasn’t paying any attention to the show, but the audience’s laughter caught my attention every time, and as I laid there, having fun in my loaded diaper, whenever the audience laughed, I chuckled to myself through my closed lips, because I thought they were laughing at me humping the floor in my gurry diaper. I don’t know why, but on that night, I was really concentrating on the warmth of that gur on my butt, and the deeper my enjoyment, the warmer it seemed to feel, but then, here came Mommy, who rolled me onto my back and changed me right there on the floor.
We lived in a two-story house in a small town. Well, on this particular day, I must have been around 2.5 years of age. I had on a plastic-backed disposable diaper, and I was standing at the top of the stairs when I gurred. Afterwards, I reached back there and felt the large bulge in my diaper. To describe further the texture of my gur, I will tell you about one time, out of curiosity, when I stuck my left hand down the back of my diaper and touched my hot gur. It wasn’t very messy at all, but it had that modeled texture to it, like the surface of a pealed banana, but somewhat dry and waxy. Though it isn’t on my Readit post, my assumption for that being is because I was a frequent milk drinker as a toddler. I’m thinking that it was that same texture that made gurring feel so good. Well, on this particular day, during which I gurred my diaper while standing at the top of the stairs, I felt the bulging diaper and smiled to myself before toddling down the stairs to the dining room. My teenage brother entered the house and sat down at the table. Being that I was facing the table, he didn’t know I was standing there, wallowing in the pleasure of a warm gurry diaper. “What are you doing?” he asked me, and I grinned at him before reaching behind me, grabbing the diaper, and rubbing the gur up-and-down on my butt. Seeing that, my brother laughed, because he thought I was scratching my butt. “Show Mommy how you scratch your butt.” he said, and again, I rubbed my gur. Then, I sat down on that firm thing and felt it flatten slowly into a hot pancake, and I let out a groaning sigh.
Shortly after this event occurred was when I started calling my poop gur as a toddler. This particular memory is not on Readit, but only on this site. I remember it like it happened yesterday. It was early evening, and we were at my grandparents’ house. I played around a while before toddling into the kitchen. When I reached the middle of the floor, the need to gur hit me, and thus, I filled my diaper. I was wearing a pair of jeans, and I remember having dreams during which I squatted half-way while wearing a gurry diaper just to see what would happen. So, while standing there in my freshly gurred diaper and pants, I did what I dreamed about, and as in my dream, the hot pile was pushed forward by the pants tightening around my butt, and it stopped midway along my perineum, and that was the first time I experienced what I described in a much earlier post on this site as the “gurrrrrrrrrrrr” effect, which, once again, was synesthetic in nature.
“Did you poop?” my brother asked, and he led me to the bathroom and changed me. Since that day, whenever I soiled myself, I called my poop gur. As I grew older though, and when I was potty trained, I called it poop. Now that I am back in diapers due to IBSD, I am able to relive those fond memories in private every once in a while. I don’t do it every day, but at least once a week, whenever I am going to have a normal bowel movement, I will do it in the diaper in the privacy of my own bathroom with the door locked, and I will either stand and sway in nothing but my diaper to get the same effect I wrote about earlier as the gur shifts from side-to-side on my butt. Sometimes I will do the other toddler thing on my belly, and sometimes, while wearing my pants, I will squat half-way and enjoy the gur sliding down into my perineum and holding in that position for about 3.5, maybe 4 seconds, before I stand up again and it returns to my butt. In other times, I will reach behind myself with both hands, stretch out the elastic leg openings of the diaper, and shake my hips back-and-forth until the gur settles in the middle of the perineal region of the diaper. Then I will let go of the diaper and let it caress the gur against me as I do either my belly thing or the swaying thing. And this concludes my memories of me as a toddler in a gurry diaper.