I come from a family that openly discussed medical and sexual issues. I was the youngest child. My mother would catch evidence of my involvement in [infantilism]. She sat me down when I was 12 years old to explain that she didn’t want me to do these things because the only people who did were homosexual perverts.
As a boy, I would steal safety pins or old diapers from the rag pile. When they were no longer available I would use whatever absorbent cloth was practical. I really enjoyed playing with toys that were much too young for me—stuffed animals, rattles, teething rings. I would set up in a corner and regress. By my age [35], you can see [that] this was the era of cloth, not disposable, diapers. There’s a split in interest that goes down generational lines. I’m seeing more and more preferences for cloth over disposable or vice versa. Then you have the enthusiasts who are very interested in rubber, because there was a time when baby garments [were changed from] rubber to plastic.
I’m somewhat bisexual. With the right person, gender doesn’t matter. We’ve all been brought up with certain conceptions about gender. They’re very difficult to get past. Through my teenage years I was struggling with [that] more than the infantilism. I struggled with my sexual identity, my sexual preference. I had the support of siblings, but there was secrecy and gameplaying. I was already fairly good at trying to hide my practice of infantilism.
One of the things that stuck with me through most of my adolescent years was my mother’s voice reminding me that there were others out there. I filed that little piece of information away. I found references to an infantilist organization called the Diaper Pail Fraternity in Drummer. Looking through their ads [and] through the Berkeley Barb, I discovered that there were people out there, but I didn’t contact any for a number of years.
When I was about 28, [I was] doing research for a book on [electronic] bulletin boards. I found references to the interest. The first real positive contact I made was through local BBS’s; one regular writer recommended I try CompuServe. I did and found out that DPF was just normal folks. I joined.
I was invited to a party and housewarming at the home of Tommy, who runs DPF. That was the first time I [met] a large number of infantilists all at once. I had never seen these people face to face and wasn’t sure if, for all the talk, anyone else actually dared to go so far as to wear diapers or drink from bottles. Maybe they just all talked about it, and I would go wearing a diaper under my clothes and find myself terribly embarrassed that no one else did! First thing I saw when I arrived was someone with a huge wet spot in front being scolded. That relaxed me a little bit. The host of the party was an especially good host. He took me in and changed me and insisted upon using his supplies. A number of people had shed their pants and were walking around in diapers; the conversation was like [that of] any normal party. There was a little [talk] about the interest here and there, but people were drinking beer and eating snacks, and some were in the hot tub. It was a very nice setting.
Through all of this, Tommy kept making sure I always had something to drink. I couldn’t quite figure out why. Later I was in the living room, sitting and talking to people, and all of a sudden [I] heard [a] little music—like a watch alarm that plays “Yankee Doodle.” I’m looking in the sofa cushions, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. Everyone else in the room is staring in my direction. Tommy came over and took me by the arm and said, “Aha! I think this baby needs changing.” He had thrown [a] musical diaper alarm inside my diaper—a little sensor that plays music when it gets wet. So there I was, amid 30 people [and] turning beet red. It was a pretty good experience.
I get to know the people on-line or through letter writing or phone calls quite a bit before [meeting]. If there aren’t [also] noninfantilist and nonsexual common interests, I don’t follow through. If we both happen to be interested in computers or in hiking, it gives [the relationship] a chance. Otherwise … the word I want to use is “cheapened,” but that’s not [quite] right. Let’s say it has less potential.
One experience that definitely sticks out occurred when I was being parent for one friend for a week. There’s a lot of activity in supporting someone; it gets tiring. At one point I said, “Look, I’m just too tired. Take care of yourself and put yourself down for a nap. I need to lay down!” I went and lay down. The next thing I knew, he brought me a blanket and a bottle and started to cradle me in [his] arms. He held me like a six-month-old, gently swayed and rocked me, and said, “It’s okay,” stroking my head and my hair, cuddling. The next thing I remember is waking up and looking up to see him still staring down at me and smiling. [I felt] very relaxed and very blissful.
There are a lot of people out there, I’m sure, who are happily doing parts of this in their regular relationship [and] who have no need to express it outside their own relationship. I was involved in a relationship with one particularly interesting woman for a couple of years. Ninety percent of the time or more [she] would be the nurturer. One of her favorite scenes was to [catch] me wetting my pants, spank me, put me in diapers, scold me, and tell me I shouldn’t be given an opportunity to grow up. Often in the middle of the change she would molest me and take advantage of me and want me to be passive. Which was a lot of fun! Mommy taking advantage of me. Fun! I found it a good experience. [Unfortunately] there were other things in the relationship that were incompatible, so it didn’t last.
One of the big issues that comes up is how to do those things yet keep it secret from others. The fear of other people discovering and ridiculing you is strong. I still have a lot of that. My parents and relatives, and friends not involved in this interest, visit quite frequently, and it’s difficult. I don’t have people casually dropping in. I also find that I’m spending more and more time with friends who are involved in [this] or who are understanding.
There aren’t that many support areas for this. That partly accounts for my commitment to running the Adult Babies section. The biggest message [that] I hope comes across to readers is what comes up in letters I receive all the time. You should know you’re not alone.
GLENN
I’m heterosexual and an infantilist: I like to be treated as a baby or small child, and [be] taken care of by my significant other. I prefer a female caretaker, but more important than the traditional sexual issues is the form of the caretaking—that is [my] primary concern. I would never consider dating a man, but I’ve had male nurse’s aides, and although I was uncomfortable at first, I found that if the person is a good caretaker, [the gender] didn’t bother me. I have MS, and I’m in a wheelchair. Sometimes people assume [that] if you’re in a wheelchair you’re stupid. I’ve had a few instances where people have talked to me like I was a baby or a child—people I didn’t know, cashiers at checkout counters.
I’m not interested in S&M, but dominance and submission is built into infantilism. The submissive is a nonresponsible person submitting to the authority of an adult figure. A lot of infantilists—and I have to include myself—are pretty dominant about how they’re submissively treated. But within the relationship itself they are told what to do with or without any feedback from them at all.
[When] living at home, I was in a supervised environment. I could hardly go out and [get] diapers. I would be terrified to death that I would be caught and [that] my parents would freak out. Then I was in the service for two years. I lived on the post, and we had periodic inspections. Most of my off-post activities were concerned with fantasy roleplaying games and war simulation, so I was at a friend’s house or the recreation center most weekends. I suppose I could have done something, but it wasn’t that strong a drive [then]. I wavered, thinking it’d be neat, then, Oh, man, that’s silly. When I came back from the Army, I was immediately in college. I had a bit more opportunity but never a reason to do it.
In the summer of 1983 I started getting sick. By the time October rolled around I was in the hospital. The MS was seriously affecting my coordination, strength, and stamina. They performed a number of tests. One [a spinal tap] wa
s real unpleasant. One of the side effects is post-puncture headache. At one point my head hurt like crazy, but with that much codeine in me I didn’t care. I had to go and I didn’t want to get up, so I wet the bed. I thought it was tremendously funny.
Eventually I was released. I was in a wheelchair; I could use a walker, but I wasn’t really great with it. I kept ditching out and falling down, which I didn’t like. I was probably home for four months when I started to have a small bed-wetting problem. It was just every couple of days or so, but I started wearing diapers at night. I was [also] rather fond of doing marijuana at the time, which makes my condition worse. It exaggerates some of the neurological symptoms. It got to the point where, if I got really high, I’d start wetting during the day. That happened a couple of times. Even at times when I could have gone without them, I wore diapers. I thought, I’ve always wanted to do this, so it doesn’t bother me that much. It was my way of saying, “It’s not that bad.”
In 1985 I had a really bad flare-up of the MS. It put me in the hospital and messed me up real good. For a long time I wasn’t capable of taking care of myself at all. We started having nurse’s aides over because my wife couldn’t take care of me all the time. I was in a bad state of depression. I dealt with the wheelchair pretty easily and the diapers didn’t bother me, but having no stamina and no coordination at all was a little bit much. That year of my life was not a lot of fun. I had a lot of times where I was really unpleasant to be around.
[It was] when I was totally unable to take care of myself [that] the “being a baby” coping mechanism cropped up. I’d been diapered for a while. I was used to the fact that other people had to diaper me. It turned me on tremendously the first time [an aide] changed me. I thought it was wild. Here was this person I didn’t even know changing my diaper. Eventually I got her to give me backrubs, which would turn into her masturbating me. I wanted that kind of contact. There wasn’t any babying—it was just the fact of her seeing me in the diaper, putting the diaper on me, checking the diaper to see if it was wet. [That] was exciting and emotionally gratifying.
[The babying] crept up gradually. It started with the bottle. I keep a glass of lemonade in my headboard to drink, and I’d been reaching for it and knocking it off. I told my wife that we should get a nursing bottle for me, half hoping she’d use it. She got some, but we never used them. Another nurse’s aide was here when I got back from the hospital. She was a tremendous help to me. I told her there were bottles in the sink so I wouldn’t spill, and she got the bottle for me. [Around this time] I [also] ordered a few things from [an adult-baby mail-order house] as an experiment. One was a bodysuit with snaps that go up over the diaper. I started wearing it at night. [My caretaker] thought it was great. She said, “Wow, this makes it so much easier to change you.” I said, “That’s cool.” I was afraid she’d look at them and laugh. Eventually she brought over a pacifier. The first time she did, I stepped over the line from what needed to be done to what I wanted to be done.
I started to accumulate baby toys, and she started referring to herself as my baby-sitter. It went on from there. All the stuff I’ve got is snap-crotch. All the bottles I have are juvenile-print nursers. When I was really sick I had to order an adult transport chair [which] could be pushed by an attendant. I got the one most like a stroller. I try to get as many babylike things as possible: diaper stackers with little bears on them, juvenile clothing. I have collected a small amount of toys: I have Busy Box. The last year and a half that she visited, there was an assumption on both our parts that I was a completely dependent infant. She dressed me; if I was really sick, she would play with my toys with me.
My wife doesn’t care for [infantilism] very much. She will baby me when I’m really sick. It’s primarily limited to what needs to be done. She won’t take time out and play with me when she changes me. [But] she’s gotten more accepting over the years. Most of [my] evolution as a baby came about in periods where the MS was flaring up or I was moderately sick with a cold. There [were] times when I did not need a nurse’s aide, I just wanted to be babied. Any time I’m sick, any time that I cannot do everything myself, it’s a very important part of my life.
The best day I ever had was around a year ago. [My caretaker] came over on a Friday and left on Sunday. That Saturday, from the moment I got up until I went to sleep, I was the total baby. I spent the entire waking part of my day without saying an intelligible word. Everything I needed was taken care of, often before I really thought I needed it, by somebody I had feelings of trust and affection for. So my idea of a caring, loving relationship is where she spent the entire day babying me, fed me when it was appropriate, changed my diapers, dressed me in baby clothes, played with me with my toys. At the end of the day she bathed me, dried me off, put me in my sleeper, fed me a nighttime bottle, played with me a bit more, sang little lullabies to me, and masturbated me until I fell asleep. It was absolutely the best day I’ve ever had.
Everybody has different ideas on what constitutes great sex in conjunction with infantilism. For me [it] varies, depending on who’s taking care of me. With my aides and baby-sitters, I’m delighted if I can get them to masturbate me. And with one exception, that’s as far as it’s ever gone. With my wife—somebody I really care about—then I want it to go to the point of intercourse or oral sex. I have a problem maintaining an erection when there isn’t any direct stimulation. And because I have slightly reduced sensitivity, I last forever, which my wife does not complain about at all, except when she’s giving me what we euphemistically call a “front rub,” which I get her to do every now and then. In conjunction with being treated like a baby, that’s probably my favorite thing.
The release [aspect], where you actually come, is not as important as you would think. When you think of sexual activity, you think of two people making out or making love. But for me, the more I can be made to feel like an infant or a child, the more turned on I am, the more comfortable I get. When the release itself can come, I prefer that to be like a mother doing it to quiet the baby. I consider being masturbated to be more an adjunct to babying because the person who’s doing it to you doesn’t get any gratification from it. [She’s] just doing it because [she] cares about you; it’s part of taking care of a baby. It’s possible she’s excited by her authority, and if so, I’m tickled pink.
There are some things I fantasize about doing that I wouldn’t honestly dare do. If we ever get a house, one of my requirements is for me to have a nursery. I would really love to spend some time—a week or a month—as a dependent infant, full-time, 24 hours a day. There’s no question in my mind that I could be babied a lot more and be comfortable with it. On the few occasions [when] I did wear juvenile clothes in a public situation, it did not bother me. If other people had a problem with it, fuck ’em.
Seven
DEPERSONALIZATION
He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.
—SAMUEL JOHNSON1
Of all the roles that D&Sers may play out with partners, the fantasy of becoming less than a person is among the most controversial. Depersonalization fantasies are about a radical transformation whereby the person becomes a subperson. For the D&Ser who explores depersonalization, the play is often the realization of a deeply held desire to know—or to inflict—almost supernatural powerlessness. It is a fantasy that suggests the workings of some ruthless, often capricious power to which the submissive has no choice but to succumb and, in surrender, to become other.
Under the heading of depersonalization we include, first, behaving and being treated like an animal; second, the fantasy of being an inanimate object, such as a piece of furniture; and third, institutional scenarios in which the submissive is treated like a prisoner, a hospital patient, or a reform-school student—in other words, someone whose rights have been revoked by an omnipotent, impersonal, and usually heartless system. Some element of depersonalization may be present in other types of D&S activity—for example, the master-slave relation
ship—but for purposes of organization we limit depersonalization to these three general categories.
Our profiles in this chapter include:
• Danny the Wonder Pony, a performance artist who has turned his fetish into his profession. He lives in New Jersey.
• Max is 50 years old. He is an artist and real-estate investor and lives with Lindsay (profiled in Chapter 20).
WHAT IS DEPERSONALIZATION?
That depersonalization finds a place in D&S sexuality is hardly surprising: It is a driving force in the human imagination. One has to look only to the extraordinary popularity of fairy tales about frog princes and beauties with beastly mates; women-behind-bars movies and prison fiction; our cultural fascination with war crimes, political torture, Nazis, and slavery; and the public thirst for the details of lurid crimes. Even so-called ordinary people develop romantic obsessions with serial killers or join crowds when an execution takes place. To enjoy the spectacle of another person being inhumanely subjugated or violated requires that we see him as intrinsically less human than ourselves. The sexual kick that these spectacles may provide is widely known but rarely admitted.
D&S roleplaying rarely explores this darkest side of human psychology. For the most part depersonalization, while certainly bizarre, usually comprises playful acts. The fantasies result from negotiation and achieve the purpose of mutual gratification. Still, depersonalization is an uncomfortable activity for many D&Sers. Those who do explore this area are usually extremely cautious about negotiating the scene and frequently reserve this form of play for long-standing partners. They also recognize the fundamental dichotomy between a safely enacted fantasy and a dangerous reality, but that dichotomy itself may be fundamental to their arousal.
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