Posted on Thu, 24 January 2019
My name is Patricia and I developed my diaper fetish while serving time in jail for drugs. I wasn’t any type of addict or anything. I was 19 and got pulled over for having a headlight out and the cop found a quarter ounce of marijuana in my purse. I plead guilty, because my attorney told me it was a first offense and I would probably just get probation and community service. That didn’t work out so well and the judge sentenced me to six months in county jail. He gave me four weeks to sort out my job and such before I had to start serving time.
I was scared to go to jail and my friends and family kept giving me advice to make it easier. One friend, who had been to jail a few times, told me that if I pissed myself a few times, they would transfer me to the infirmary where I would have my own television and a more comfortable bed. It seemed ridiculous, so I ignored his advice.
The first day of my sentence sucked. It wasn’t anything like the prison movies where everyone has their own cells. There were fourty women in one large room with beds attached to the walls and tables in the middle of the room. There were only 28 beds, so about a dozen of us had to sleep on thin mats on the floor. It was also very cold, which I was told was on purpose to keep viruses and such from spreading. The smell was pretty horrid as well, as some of the women in there were clearly averse to showering. There was one television in the corner and the inmates had no control over it. It was always on a cooking channel or some other boring crap.
After a three days, I couldn’t handle it anymore. Six months of this was going to drive me insane. I started thinking about what my friend said about pissing myself and tried to work up the courage to actually do it. The following night I gave in after being threatened by a rather large woman that wanted me to trade my dessert for her apple slices. I wet the bed on purpose and then got up in the middle of the night to ask a guard for assistance. She let me take a shower and gave me a clean jumpsuit and blanket. After a day, nothing happened, so I did it again. Once again I was allowed to shower and given a clean jumpsuit and blanket, but this time the guard seemed a bit annoyed. Still no transfer to the infirmary.
Two more threats from other large women had me scared, so I decided to piss myself in the middle of the day. It was embarrassing as hell, but I really wanted out of there. When I did it, a few women complained to the guard on duty who took me to the infirmary to shower and change, but then I was taken back to the same place. I wasn’t giving up though and pissed myself again later than day. This time, after allowing me to shower and giving me clean clothes, they took me to speak with a counselor. She asked what was going on and I told her I wasn’t sure. I said I was scared out of my mind, had been threatened and wasn’t sure why I was pissing myself. She said she was going to have me transferred for my own safety, which made me happy.
It wasn’t what I was expecting though. The transfer was called ‘segregation’. They took me to a part of the jail that had several small rooms. Each room had a bed,a television, a window and a door. There were no toilets. I was in one of these rooms for about two hours before a guard and a nurse came to get me. They took me a room that looked like a small doctor’s office and the nurse asked me to strip and lie down. She pulled out an adult diaper and rolled me back and forth a couple times as she taped it on me. Then she gave me a different orange jumpsuit to wear, which zipped up the back rather than the front. She helped me zip it up all the way, then fastened something at the neck that prevented me from unzipping it. The guard then took me back to the room they had retrieved me from.
This is not what I was expecting from what my friend had told me, but perhaps it was simply different for men. Regardless of the situation, it was a lot better than a stinky room full of criminals. I had control over the television and didn’t have to worry about people grabbing food off my meal tray. A person came around every day with a cart of books to choose from as well. Everyone in this wing had outdoor time for one hour in the morning and one hour in the afternoon. It was always about half a dozen women walking around outside with orange jumpsuits and diapers underneath.
Having no toilet meant using the diaper for everything, which was disgusting at first. Anywhere from 30-60 minutes after each meal, I was taken to the nurse’s station where she would remove my jumper. If my diaper was wet, she would change it and clean me up. If it was messy, she would send me into the next room to shower. What seemed disgusting at first, actually became quite enjoyable after a couple weeks. After six months in diapers, I was hooked. That was seven years ago and I now where diapers when I can. I have a boyfriend that is also ABDL and we have a lot of fun together.
I realize a lot of people will think this is bullshit, but I promise you it was a very real experience. Diapering of ‘problem inmates’ is common enough that it has been the basis of many lawsuits claiming unjust humiliation. Google it if you don’t believe me. =)