Last night, I hit the wall. Hard.

After a long and mostly uneventful day at work, I decided to return straight home and take a nap. Then I was barraged with a flurry of text messages and phone calls who can barely wait for me to clock out to contact me. Most of the time, it's trivial stuff. "Leo, how was work?" "Leo, let me tell you about my day!" "Leo, can you do me a favor and do something for me that I'm too lazy to do or learn how to do?"

I couldn't rest.

I could hear my mom, who is suffering from dementia, moaning, groaning, yelling and demanding attention from my poor dad. The stress has taken enough of a toll on him that he requires medical attention for sharp, daily headaches. Not migraines but close. But he can't leave mom's side because she requires so much care that we're both overwhelmed by it. He can barely rest. Mom has exhausted a revolving door of nurses, rehab specialists and caregivers. The only option we have left is to put her in assisted living, and we can't do that until she gets approved for MediCal.

Since I went to FC, I developed a gastrointestinal condition that feels like a combination of perpetual heartburn and "rot gut," constantly applying pressure on my lower intestines. Neither Tums nor Pepto Bismol nor Prilosec OTC is knocking it out. It feels like my acid reflux disease is in severe overdrive and I need to visit the doctor for an appointment.

The past few weeks, I was rocked hard by the sudden passing of a local fur and news that a few furs I know have been diagnosed with cancer. One of the actual founders of the furry fandom was just diagnosed with Stage IV liver cancer and is not expected to live much longer -- someone whose contributions to the fandom helped me become the person I am today.

Though my suicidal ideations have faded, I find myself in a perpetual state of unease and unrest that I can't shake. Even with anti-anxiety medication, weed and psilocybin, I have a hard time finding an extended period of calm.

To compensate, I've essentially become a manic satyriasit. I've engaged in hypersexuality and find myself jacking off or seeking pleasure once an hour to salvage any post-orgasm calm. I've developed an addiction that is unhealthy since I find myself wanting sex more than going outside, hanging with friends, and being otherwise sociable. I've spent about $1,000+ last month alone on kink gear and I find myself wanting to constantly buy more.

I'm overwhelmed. I'm tired and overwhelmed.

Tonight, I had the pleasure of doing karaoke and stepping outside the house after a week if isolation. I just recovered from my second bout of COVID-19.

I left the house feeling breathlessly overwhelmed.

Caring for a loved one with dementia is extraordinarily difficult. I never realized until it became a daily reality for my family. This evening, I learned the nurse caring for my mother reported my family for allegedly not caring for her. My mom's needs are extraordinary and my father and I do our best to keep up. I searched for a caregiver and vetted applicants, even when I was on vacation at FC this year. We need additional help, absolutely, but the nurse's actions have put us in a sideways trajectory.

Here's why. The same nurse reported us before. A case worker arrived. Mom was traumatized. As a result of this nurse's actions, she no longer trusted *any* medical professionals. After the case worker arrived, mom no longer cooperated with physical therapy and became belligerent, almost violent when she learned nursing was visiting to care for certain needs. This led to her mental state deteriorating. Now with another case worker arriving, I'm concerned the chaos and dysfunction with her will escalate. We will be left with no choice but to put her in an assisted living facility. We simply can't afford that. I sure as Hell can't.

My therapist tells me to take things one day at a time and not look at the totality of events and expecting the worst result. But I'm tired. We're tired. I've been living with this uncertainty and dread since Jan. last year. The stress has caused the both of us to experience health issues. My dad is too old for this shit. He has a job with bills to pay. I have a job with bills to pay. We are doing everything we can, yet it feels like it's not enough.

We need help.

Reintroducing Myself

FC 2024 was a fun experience, but I believe it would've been a little more fun if I was able to connect with more people one-on-one. Fortunately, I will be coming to BabyFurCon this year in September. Since I'm resting and isolating due to COVID-19, I figured now would be a great opportunity to re-introduce myself to the community. I will also be answering questions people at FC asked me.

Hi! My name is Leo.

I'm an AB/DL author who penned queer-centric AB/DL short stories for 20 years as LionStories. Currently writing under my penname CrinkleCat. I'm best known for my reality-based detailed kink fiction, a lot of which is actually derived from my personal experiences. I see myself as a dad and like to look after other crinkly critters. I can be wholesome. I can be kinky. But cuddles are mandatory.

I remember having those AB/DL feels at a very early, tender age when my parents had to give me "the talk." I was going to use the toilet from now on. No more diapers. I remember feeling absolutely crushed by this news because I loved wearing diapers. They were convenient. If I was cold, I knew I could get warm rather quickly and get a nice boost. And when I slept in a warm, wet diaper, I was able to sleep throughout the entire night. I missed those Pampers. I missed the soothing comfort and convenience they provided me.

In 1994, I came across a little movie called The Lion King. I saw these majestic creatures, these lions speaking with such a firm command of their goals and ambitions. When I watched the movie the first time, I was absolutely mesmerized. Speechless. Didn't know how to process any of it. It felt like lightning struck. Then I had this weird feeling come over me. I felt in sync with the lion characters. I understood the need to be kind, strong, to lead and protect with purpose. I wanted to walk the jungles of Africa and walk among my pride of fellow lions and lionesses. But what did that mean exactly? I didn't know. I didn't try to understand. At the time, I was nine and highly impressionable, but lacked the intellectual curiosity to figure out the meaning behind these strange thoughts and desires I was having. When my dad cutely called me Simba after watching TLK with me in the theater, I felt more than human.

Three years later, my family was reeling over the loss of my grandmother. I remember housesitting her place, playing Mortal Kombat Mythologies: Sub-Zero on my PSX in her bedroom. Beside her television and dresser were several bags of Depend Fitted Briefs diapers. The term "Fitted Briefs" threw me off until I saw what was on the package. These were noisy, green six-tape diapers. Suddenly, I hit pause on the game, opened a bag and put a diaper on right then and there. I didn't think twice. I returned to the game with a diaper underneath my jeans. It didn't take long for me to wet. When I did, I hit pause and let my head empty. As I was wetting, there was a mantra that came to me: I belong in diapers. Once I was done, once I had the warmth that was now bunched up between my legs, I was relaxed enough to not worry about anything. I was no longer sad. I was simply at peace with myself.

In 1998, I stumbled upon the site Diaper Pail Friends. I was on AOL dial-up, searching "diapers" when I came across DPF. I saw photos of men proudly wearing diapers -- but not just ordinary diapers. Thick ones. They wanted people to know. They were actually proud to be wearing diapers. And some were sexually into that as well? WOW! There was wave after wave of affirmation. I wasn't alone. I wasn't a freak. People had similar interests to me. This was an active community that I could be involved in. I joined DPF immediately. At 14, I didn't know any better. Didn't know about DPF users who used the site's "TeenChat" feature to groom underage AB/DLs. After being stalked by one of those users, I decided to leave that site.

By then, I was exploring FurryMUCK and the alt.fan.furry newsgroup. I was starting to see some curious overlap between the AB/DL and furry communities. But what took me by surprise was the sheer dedication that furries curated with the characters and worlds they built for themselves. I read roleplay sessions that read like epic fantasy novels. There was an intensity and fire that inspired me to write. And so I started to roleplay with others. I was able to match my partner's commitment and get heavily into scenes. After one intense roleplay session, I found out my scene partner was actually a Creative Writing college professor. He encouraged me to take my writing to the next level and tap into my furry sexuality.

After graduating high school in 2003, I was introduced to Yiffy.net by Micah Coon, who was one of the co-administrators. I was addicted to that message board. I could participate in all of these extremely detailed and passionate roleplay sessions with other people. I was like a honeybee jumping from one thread to the next, robing and disrobing, engaging and disengaging. I could visualize the scenes so well that I was developing this phantom sense. Fur. Musk. The hot breath of my eager partner, breathing on my neckfur, wanting my body -- wanting to pin me up against the wall and...

Uh oh! Did I just cum?

Turned out my very first orgasm was from an extended roleplaying session on Yiffy.net.

Okay, so how do I elicit that kind of reaction from other people?

And so I started penning original short stories that appeared on Yiffy.net. To my pleasant surprise, people enjoyed reading my work! Several members gave me some excellent constructive feedback that significantly improved the quality of my work. Eventually, I developed my own writing style that focused heavily on tapping into the senses of every character. I developed techniques that helped readers achieve sexual curiosity or arousal by the way I vividly described things. I would collect experiences I had in real life and transpose them into my work, injecting realism that I often felt was missing. For instance, I felt that a lot of roleplayers were focused on what they thought sex was compared to what sex actually is. The more realistic I made that experience on paper, the easier it was for people to suspend their disbelief and commit to reading. I remember feeling a sense of accomplishment when readers began to emotionally connect with my characters like they were living beings; that motivated me to give my characters life and purpose. Giving characters a solid foundation makes the moment more spontaneous, emotional and magical. Readers were hooked. I remember churning out new chapters once a day until I moved.

But I hit my stride once I was referred to Yiffstar in 2005 by Toumal. Toumal showed me his site and told me how I could combine my writing and the things that turned me on. Wow, what a concept! At this point, I was writing at a furious pace under the nickname AlexCross (later changed to Rock). I pumped out new content twice a week, never bothering once to promote myself. I just wrote and published what I wanted to write and publish. I curated a following of readers interested in diapers and watersports. My readership was going twice a week for about a year. I created a FurAffinity account and tripled my readership by the time I landed at my first furry con.

It was 2008. I attended Further Confusion with some local furs. Though I was staff, I was a nobody. Not a popufur. Never desired to be one. Just a face in the crowd. One of thousands of furries roaming the con space. I was left to my own devices to explore the space, manage a few panels here and there, and help with con operations. When I hosted a panel about character development, the meeting room was full within minutes. People showed up on time and piled in. No seats were left. Here I was trying to act all cool like a teacher while fumbling through my notes and humbled by the attendance. I was overjoyed to hear attendees discussing and asking questions about my stories. There was an incredible amount of validation I got for about an hour and a half. It was one thing to get a +follow or a friend request, but it was another thing entirely for all these people to show up and express their appreciation.

Later at the con, I went to a cub party attended by Karis and Proxima. I was surrounded by people who were casually talking to each other and having drinks while wearing diapers. I remember being super nervous while Karis and Proxima were very nonchalant about it. Oh, you like diapers? We do too! See, we're wearing ours! Oh, you want to wear one? Let's get that taken care of, kiddo! I remember how small I felt. I remember Karis taking me by the hand, leading me into the bathroom to diaper me. I never had another person diaper me before, so I did everything I could to capture that intimate moment in a bottle. I took that experience and expounded upon it in fiction. This inspired me to seek out more experiences and encounters that I could document and rehash into my work.

FC 2024 was like a huge reset button. I was back to zero. Barely anyone knew or recognized me except for the con veterans. There was a new generation. People who were born during the time I started writing stories were roaming around in their dresses, colorful pacifiers, and cute diapers, being comfortable with themselves -- reaching a level of self-acceptance I didn't have at their age. It felt like the babyfur community had passed me by, but I was happy to see people coming together as their true selves without having to wrestle with years of self-loathing and self-doubt. Bittersweet but beautiful.

I'm still here!

CC

FC 2024 Retrospective

This was my first furry con in a while and it was my boyfriend Charon's first ever furry con. My heart fluttered and warmed a bit every time he saw a fursuiter he recognized from social media. I think he was enjoying every moment, taking everything in.

This was the first time I roomed with NavajoLeo who I've known for ages online, and his partner Honey Burr. They are the chillest hotel roommates I've ever had, and they gave me the space to be my kinky self: eating pizza at two in the morning in our room with a totally drenched diaper on. I've even went to the night market in my pup hood and diaper with Navajo. Interestingly, I was less aroused from the exhibitionism and more satisfied from the affirmation. I wear diapers and I'm proud of it.

I got to hang out with people who've I've seen for years in mutually appreciated digital spaces.

Czar Wolfhound is a cutie and a pleasure to hang with. Would've definitely loved to cuddle with him more. Hoping I get to see him again at another event!

Rocky Husky, adorable puppy as ever, stopped by the con for a day. Was glad to see him! Wish we could've hung out, but I'm sure we will eventually.

Hung out with NeonBunny (i.e. Diaper Fox) for a bit. He's another free spirit who gives zero fucks about people knowing he wears diapers. He travels the world and owns it. I've admired his openness for decades and was grateful to express my appreciation for him.

I had fun vibing with the various babyfurs who hung out with me before realizing I was CrinkleCat. Ego was a bit bruised since not a lot of people knew of the 200+ short stories I've written over the years. And by the way, the babyfur events and parties were easily the cleanest, hygienic, and most organized than most parties I've ever been to. Major props to everyone who observed the 6-2-1 role and changed regularly.

Have to give Zephyrlot a very special shout out. I. Adore. Him. We spent some quality time together. Diapers, spanking and kink exploration was involved. Few match me kink for kink, so to bounce things off of him was deeply affirming. My queer side, which I often mask at home and work, was able to be brought out into the light thanks to him, Navajo, Honey Burr and Charon.

The actual con was an interesting experience. It wasn't terrible. Could've been better.

The con, at times, felt underwhelming and disjointed. Lots of unique panels and fun dances, but not a whole lot of opportunities for people like us to congregate in public spaces. Saw plenty of PeekABU hats, but people mostly stuck to themselves. Only found out about the room parties and such until late Saturday.

Charon and I also got food poisoned on Thursday night at a restaurant called Farmers Union. We had some chorizo poutine. He had more than I did and received the brunt of it early on. We had been in and out of the bathroom. Though he recovered mostly, I had not and soldiered through the con. Battled severe dehydration and body overheating. Nearly passed out about a dozen times. Felt weak leading up to the end of the con with my immune system taking a hit. Charon stuck with me through it all, of course, and I couldn't ask anything more.

Charon went up, over and beyond for me. For so long, I never felt I deserved the kind of love he's given me. The simple acts of love. Holding hands as we walked the four blocks from our hotel to the con. The many kisses and "I love yous." The tears we cried and shared. The way our bodies were intertwined in bed. The warmth. The kindness. He's now collared. He is my pup. But more importantly, he is my boyfriend. I couldn't be prouder of being queer with him by my side. No regrets. No post con depression.

And now, I bid adieu to San Jose. Farewell!

2024. Weird.

As I'm getting ready to attend my first furry convention in a long, long time, I've been grappling with a strange confluence of emotions.

I'm excited about going to FC, but I also feel guilty for being excited about it. For nearly a week, I'll be away from my family, and they need all the help they can get. My mom is clearly going through cognitive decline and it's happening rather rapidly. My dad is so tired from caring for her that he's practically driving on the wrong side of the road and tripping over nearly everything in the house. Yet he tells me to go. Relax. Enjoy myself.

Yeah. I'll do my best. Will just leave it at that.

Part of it too is that I don't feel like I belong there. I ask myself often: Have I improved my personal situation enough so that I could go out of town for a while? The answer is a resounding no. But that "no" -- I have to remind myself -- is not from a lack of effort. I'm dealing with someone who is literally not doing anything to improve themselves, and is not allowing us to at least meet them halfway on achieving their constant needs.

The depression is kicking in again.