I didn't think about it until now. Here is the article from Pick Me Up. I suck at the whole quotes thing so bear with me.
If your boyfriend wanted you to wear a nappy and let him change it, you'd run a mile, right? But K S, 21, was more than happy to oblige...
As the swing swooped higher, I held on so tight my knuckles turned white. "Faster, Daddy!" I giggled. "All right," he laughed. "And as you've been a good girl, I'll buy you an ice cream."
Ice crea, swings, and my teddy, Maggie, were just a few of my favourite things. Normal for a toddler, you might say. But I wasn't a child. I was 20, and a children's daycare worker. "Daddy" was my boyfriend, John, 29. Confused? A lot of people are.
For the past 18 months, I've led a double life. Most of the time, I'm K S, a young woman who enjoyes socialising with her mates and going to the theatre. But I'm also 2-year-old Ella. She wears a nappy, sucks a dummy, and loves a bottle before snuggling up in her cot.
I know you're cringing, thinking: What on earth? My family reacted the same way when I first confessed my secret. But there's nothing sexual in it. It's a comfort thing.
I was 6 when I first tried on my sister's nappy. I don't remember much about it. Only that it was a one-off. My parents, D, 31, and D, 30, had just divorced, so maybe I was deeling insecure. When I was 8, I started stealing nappies on a regular basis. My 6-year-old sister, A, wet the bed and i could just about squeeze into her oversized nappies.
Why had it resurfaced? Well, Mum had remarried and my stepdad was a force to be reckoned with. We couldn't play freely. Noise was banned, toys were frowned upon... As we moved from the US to France, then back again, with my stepdad's job, I felt like I was forced to grow up too quickly. I was so miserable. But pretending to be a baby, secretly wearing A's nappy at night, made me happy.
As the years passed, my nappy-wearing remained a secret. Until... "What are you doing?" A snapped at me one evening. I was 13, A still wet the bed and she caught me nicking a nappy.
"I-I like to wear them," I stuttered.
"Why?" she asked, baffled.
"I don't know," I shrugged. "Please don't tell anyone."
"OK," she promised.
A kept my secret, and at 15, knowing it was weird, I stopped. Over the following years, I had several boyfriends, but I never confessed my secret. Then I met John.
We'd got talking in a chatroom and, within three months of our first date, I'd moved into his house in Vermont. A few weeks later, John confessed someting odd. "I'm a DL," he said.
"What's that?" I asked, confused. He explained it stood for Diaper Lover. He found women in nappies a turn-on. "No!" I gasped.
Any other woman would have run a mile. But here I was, a former nappy wearer, and I'd stumbled across a man who loved nappies. You couldn't have made it up. Even then, I still didn't have the guts to confess my past. But two weeks on, when I stepped out of the shower to find an incontinence nappy lying on the bed, I knew what John wanted me to do.
Nervously, I slippied it on. "You look lovely," John sighed. So much for sexy lingerie, eh? Over those following weeks, I finally opened up to John.
"I find pretending to be a baby comforting," I told him.
"That's brilliant," he smiled.
We suddenly realised we could make each other happy. So I started wearing nappies under my clothes to please John. In return, he started treating me like a baby. First, he bought me a dummy. Then a baby's bottle...
It was John who urged me to wet myself once, when we were out shopping. I did, on the condition he changed my nappy when we got home. John named me Ella, short for Puella, which means girl in latin, while John became "Daddy." I even spoke in a babyish voice.
During the week, when John worked away, I was K. But at weekends, when he returned, so did Baby Ella. "Daddy, can you read me a story tonight?" I'd ask in my squeaky voice.
"If you're a good girl," he'd reply.
John bought me a white "onesie," a vest that poppered underneath, from an incontinence website. Then I bought an all-in-one sleep suit that looked like a Babygro. At night, I'd curl up on the settee with John and he'd feed me my bottle before reading me a bedtime story. I eben made myself a huge, collapsable cot with a futon. I rarely slept in it, but it was fun for role-play.
I'd been dressing as Baby Ella for several months, when I decided to tell my family. Mum and my youngest sister, S, now 17, were stunned. "Why do you do that?" they gasped.
"I know it sounds weird," I replied, "but here me out."
I explained how it made me feel safe and loved, and how I thought it was because I'd been forced to grow up too fast. Mum felt awful. "It's not your fault," I assured her. "I like my lifestyle. It's nothing to be ashamed of." Mum nodded, but I'm not sure she totally agreed. The only one who wasn't shocked was Amber. "Whatever makes you happy," she smiled, giving me a hug.
They only lived a 10-minute drive from me, so I often popped in during the week, and they'd show their support in small ways. One day, I arrived to find a large lollipop on the kitchen counter. "I thought you might like it," Mum smiled.
"Thank you," I replied, touched.
Other times, my sisters would teasingly role-play with me. "Has Baby Ella had her nap today?" Sarah would ask me.
"No," I'd pout. "Me tired."
One day, while out shopping with Mum, she even helped me buy jeans that wouldn't show my nappy. "Can you see it?" I asked, nipping out of the changing rooms.
"Yes," she nodded. "Try these. They're a little baggier." After a quick change, I strolled back out. "Much better," Mum said.
It sounds odd, even to me. But my family knew I wasn't hurting anyone, so they supported me. When I told my friends, they were shocked, but I have their support too.
Unfortunately, not everyone backed me. After I did a telly programme about "adult babies," my boss at the daycare centre fired me.It broke my heard. Being "Baby Ella" isn't a sexual thing. I can't stress that enough. But they said they couldn't risk having me around the children. But I have no regrets.
This April, I heard about Diaperfest from an adult baby friend. A hotel in Stowe, Vermont was holding a week-long festival especially for adult babies. "We have to go," I told John. So we booked into the hotel, and I ordered an adult baby outfit off the internet. When it arrived, I was so excited. "It's so cute!" I squealed to John. It was a gingham dress, with puffy sleeves and a frilly nappy cover.
"You look very pretty," John said.
"Thank you, Daddy," I smiled.
The festival was amazing. The hotel owner, an adult baby himself, had organized a packed week of activites for over 100 guests. There was a studio where you could have a baby portrait done, and drag nights where entertainers performed as Annie and Mary Poppins. We signed up for several day trips, too. Visiting the teddy bear factory was exciting, but nothing could beat the Ben and Jerry's factory. "I love ice cream!" I giggled. I was in my element, and it was so sad to leave at the end of the week.
Over the next few months, John and I talked a lot about our future. We'd been together for 16 months, but it was becoming obvious we wanted different things in life. "I want kids at some point," I said.
"I don't," he shrugged.
So, in July this year, we split up and I moved back in with my mum and sisters. It means Baby Ella has to go away for a while. But I'm getting a lot of attention form men on the adult baby forums, all competing to be my new Daddy. We;ll have to see what happens. All I know for sure is, Baby Ella will be back, I'll be wearing nappies until I'm old and wrinkly. Who knows, by then, I'll probably need them for real!
