This is my story.
I’m a believer in doing something all at once, especially if it’s something I dread, so if you can remain with me while I tell my whole story, you’ll come to understand who I’ve come to be.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve always been a daydreamer. I think I’ve spent most of my life dreaming about what could be, rather than focusing on my surroundings. I remember in school I spent hours sitting at my desk, staring out the window, while other people spent their time paying attention in order to get good grades. I was not one who cared about or could focus long enough to learn the things that my teachers were trying to teach me.
What were my daydreams about?
January 1, 1970, Gurnie Lee Cook and Susan Gayle Price became my parents. I don’t want to go into a lot of detail about their history because this story might get a bit long but I’ll just tell you that both of them were born and raised in South Carolina and were very religious.
At the time that they were married, Dad was in the Air Force as an Air Traffic Controller. After the Air Force, Dad sought out and became a police officer in San Francisco, CA.
Mom was a stay-at-home-mom who didn’t do much staying at home. I don’t blame her for that because she had to live with a man who seemed he was angrier than he was ever happy with his situation. We were raised by different babysitters, two of whom I thought were my aunts until I got much older and learned that they were not relations at all.
Where I grew up, and during that time period, most of my time was spent wandering the neighborhood and playing with friends. I remember when I was at play was when I was the happiest. I could use my imagination to be and do whatever I wanted. All that I ever wanted was to remain in that state of play because then I didn’t have to think about being left without my mom with one of several different babysitters.
I remember the horrible times the babysitters must have had with me because of what a sensitive child I was. When Mom would leave, I would spend what seemed like hours, crying for her to come back. The babysitter would try to console me but I usually cried myself to sleep, even if it was during the day.
Many of my dreams at night would take me away to places where I would long to be during the day. I remember one recurring dream that I would have, probably from watching too much TV. I remember that I went to Charlie’s Chocolate Factory and the owner of the factory was my dad and I was raised with the Oompa Loompas and it was always a very happy dream.
My Little Sister
Susannah Kate Cook, born in 1971, was my “twin” sister, not in reality, but in everyone’s mind when they would meet us. We looked very much the same, both with blond, curly hair, and blue eyes and we were close to the same size. People often mistook me for a girl. She was my best friend. We were inseparable. She was always kind and loving to me.
My Dad Was My Hero
Dad was a policeman. He carried a gun and had a badge. He was one of the good guys. And he was stronger than anyone I knew. His background was a BYU football player. I heard stories of how he could hit people and their bones would break. I always looked up to him but a big part of that was a fear of him - a fear that with all that strength, what could he do to my brothers, my sister, and I when he got angry.
I remember being kindly brought up the stairs by my mom. My dad and brothers and sister were sitting at the kitchen table. Mom lovingly held me from behind by my shoulders. I think she knew I was in for a scolding from Dad. Right there, in front of my brothers and sister, his words were, “It looks like this boy is going to wear diapers for the rest of his life. I don’t think he’s ever going to stop wetting the bed.”
It was events like this, that caused me to slip into daydreaming. The more my dad humiliated me in front of people, the more that I could go into my mind, at that very moment and be somewhere else. I had perfected a way to remove myself from the situation so that I could be in a better place than I was while he scolded me.
I don’t know why I wet the bed so much. I don’t remember ever having a dry night until maybe the age of nine or ten. But I know this, I slept harder than anyone I knew. I could sleep through anything.
I was not only a bedwetter, but I was a sleepwalker. Time and time again, my dad, in front of his friends, would remind me of a story of when he came home from work, turned on the light, and I was standing on the dining room table, peeing in the punch bowl. He told me that he pulled off his belt and knocked me off the table but it didn’t wake me up and he had to put me back into my bed. I don’t remember the experience, but I remember the humiliation of Dad telling that story over and over.
Because of my bedwetting, Dad demanded from my mom that I be kept in diapers so that I didn’t ruin yet another mattress. I remember him taking me shopping for a new mattress and telling the store employees how he needed to buy a new mattress because I wet the bed. He was never concerned about my privacy.
Because my mom was gone a lot, I don’t have a lot of memories of her. The most wonderful memories I have of her was how kind and loving she was as she diapered me and tried to console me, telling me it was okay. This repeated action by my mom would become a problem later on.
Remaining a Little Child
Earlier, I left the question unanswered, “What were my daydreams about?”
My daydreams were always about being accepted as a little child, remaining that way with baby things – bottles, diapers, pacifiers, toys, and other baby items. My daydreams were a continuation of my night dreams. I would dream that I was back at the chocolate factory and with Willy Wonka, running around in my diapers, enjoying my baby things with the Oompa Loompas, and everyone loved and accepted me.
Family Home Evening
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll…
Dad, being who he was, a police officer, a religious police officer, everything in his mind was from the devil. He wanted to make sure that none of his children fell for anything the devil dished out.
I remember my dad would come home from work with stacks of mug shots. He would explain to his children how these women that he was showing us were not really women, that they were all men dressed as women, and what an abominable sin that was to God. Homosexuality, cross-dressing, any kind of sexual deviancy was clearly a sin in my dad’s eyes. He used to tell of how San Francisco was nothing more than Sodom and Gomorrah and he hoped one day God would call him to stand on the mountaintops with a blow torch and burn it all down.
He put the “fear of God” in us, not only about sex, but also about drugs. He had numerous charts that he would use to teach us during Family Home Evening of which drugs to stay away from, pretty much all of them. He had horror stories of what they would all do to us.
I couldn’t please my dad. Maybe I could please God.
Most of the time when my dad was angry at me or my brothers and sister, it caused me to believe that God must be angry with me. As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had a desire to please my earthly father, but if I couldn’t do that, I could definitely be able to please my heavenly father. I was a very obedient, deliberate child.
The combination of the above circumstances created a great fear for me of sex. I was terrified of sinning by having a sexual experience with another person. Yet my body grew up and began to have sexual feelings.
When I was about eight years old, I started to feel sexual sensations when I would move around in my wet diaper. The physical sensation felt pleasing to me and I learned how to masturbate because of that. After masturbating, I found that I slept better, which brought me to my happiest place, in my dreams.
As I developed, I was able to safely relieve my sexual tensions, and other stresses during the day by masturbating, as a baby (who is innocent and can’t sin), without hurting anyone else and without displeasing God. I never developed as most men developed, with an attraction to women (or even men) in a sexual way. I contained and controlled my sexual desires to be relieved only in the safest way I knew how to, as a baby.
I have always been a very sensitive person. When I was exposed to horrible stories on the news as a child, I would retreat to my room and cry. I have an older brother but he never protected me and my younger siblings. He was aloof from the family and by the time he was sixteen he was into girls and out of the house. I then felt the responsibility fall on me to protect.
When my dad was angry with my sister or two younger twin brothers, he would remove his belt and fling it at them so hard and with such accuracy as to throw them across the room into the wall, hard enough to leave a hole in the wall.
There were many instances of abuse from my dad. I won’t go into them in order to keep this story on track, but it influenced me tremendously in my development.
This crushed me. It was every desire of my heart to protect people from being hurt – my family and everyone else in the world who was suffering.
Trouble with the Law
Mom and Dad’s constant fighting caused them to divorce when I was eighteen. I think it was one of the hardest blows as a teenager that I had had up to that point because I had always been taught that families were forever. So now, because of the diapers and daydreaming, I needed to have that escape again to relieve my stress, only I didn’t have any diapers.
I remember walking to a local nursing home and walking down the hallway until I discovered a cart of adult diapers. I took two or three and walked out of the building.
A man, probably the director of the facility or someone else in authority there, followed me outside and confronted me. I followed him back into the nursing home. He brought me into his office and called the police and I was arrested. I was eventually released with just a slap on the wrist but this began my experiences with the law. This would happen repeatedly throughout my life, when I had no other access to diapers, in my attempt to relieve the stress and pressures that I was forced to deal with in my life.
During my daydreaming, I would fantasize or dream about how children were allowed to run around in public in their diapers. As an adult, I began to act upon these desires, periodically going out in public, to a park or somewhere, in just a shirt and my diaper. This became part of my addiction – the adrenaline rush that came from being caught in my diaper. I have been in trouble with the law over and over again because of this great desire to be accepted in the way that I most wanted to be, as a child. In my mind, I felt that everyone accepts children. I wanted to feel that love and acceptance in the only way I felt it could be done … as a child.
Finding the Work
Dad used to carry a Book of Mormon in his back pocket. His devotion to this book caused a curiosity in me. I became obsessed with reading the Book of Mormon. I probably read it at least 25-30 times by the age of 25. I wanted to know what God wanted of me. I don’t know whether it was my own desire to know what God was about or the fact that I was raised in such a religious family that caused me to start searching for how I could make God happy. I just know that desire started from a very early age.
Wanting to find the truth about what I could do to please God, after a lot of experiences with men who claimed to have that authority, my dream finally came true. I discovered the Marvelous Work and a Wonder. This changed my life. This answered my questions. This has brought me peace.
Our Messenger has asked us to “be like a child” but I have one-upped you all. I AM a child.
Naked in the Garden
If I’m truly going to become as a little child, I feel I need to continue my story as I developed sexually.
I realized how wonderful it felt to masturbate in my diaper. I didn’t know what I had discovered was sex. I thought it was something I had discovered and no one else knew about.
I remember thinking it brings me so much happiness so then I needed to share this feeling with my two younger twin brothers. I would diaper them and rub the front of their diapers. I did not show my sister because I didn’t know if girls would get the same wonderful feeling.
As I got older, I remember my dad explaining what masturbating was. I remember thinking, is that what I’m doing? Had I molested my brothers? I was sixteen when he explained it to me. I remember being devastated.
I remember I prayed to God to forgive me for what I did not know. How was I to know? I think this experience is what drove me to find out what I could do to know what God wanted of me, how could I ever be forgiven, would I ever be worthy, or was I going to hell?
I knew I was different. I didn’t know anyone who liked wearing diapers at my age. I thought I was completely alone. I often thought of suicide. I think these thoughts drove me further into my world where I could remain a baby. I would not hurt anyone again.
I told God if he would forgive me, I would never hurt a child again. I did not feel worthy of love from anyone or from myself. I needed to feel approval from someone.
When Dad left Mom, he said he wanted to go to Mexico, where he could have a big house and a couple of maids. He said he could live like a king off his retirement. He told me if I didn’t go with him, I would never see him again. I knew my mom would forgive me. She always did. So, I left with my dad right after high school. I went with my dad to Mexico. We were there a couple of weeks. Long story, short, he couldn’t speak the language, didn’t like the poverty, got frustrated, and we started traveling back towards Utah.
On the way back, Dad asked me if I wanted to go to Moab and meet a man named Bob Foster who was building homes inside a cave in a rock. This is where I began my building experience. If anyone would like to see what’s been done there, they can go to Netflix and watch Three Wives, One Husband.
Dating in a Polygamous Society
I remember Bob telling my dad that he would love for my dad to marry one or a few of his daughters. This was all about money, getting a hold of my dad’s police retirement, although I didn’t understand this at the time.
My dad started buying gifts for a young, fourteen-year-old girl, in an attempt to court her. He had no idea she was this young and when he found out, he immediately stopped. It was difficult to determine the age of these girls. They had been groomed to be mothers and wives and thus appeared to be much older and more mature than they actually were.
It was the practice in this community for the young women to be paired off with the older men. It was unusual to have a young, available nineteen-year-old man/boy in their midst. This created a lot of attention for me.
I became good friends with everyone there. I found a young, sixteen-year-old girl that I was drawn to. Over the next two years, she and I became very close. We kissed and touched but never had sex. I had never experienced having a girlfriend. I felt like this was something that God wanted me to do.
I was encouraged by this special girl to date other girls, including her sisters. So, I did. I dated many girls in that community. This was a big ego boost for me. It felt very good after having always had such a low self-esteem.
The youngest girl I dated at that time was twelve years old. I didn’t know she was that young when I dated her. When I found out, I felt terrible and guilty again. I do remember justifying it in my mind, though, because I remembered hearing stories from the older men of Joseph Smith being with younger girls.
Polygamy Commanded by God
While I was dating my special girlfriend, her older sister excitedly came to me and told me she had something to tell me. We went off by ourselves and she explained to me that she had a dream and she said in that dream, God had told her that she was supposed to be my wife. This confused me at the time because I was in love with her sister. But I thought, “Who am I to argue with God?”
I went to my girlfriend and told her what her sister had said to me. At the time, my girlfriend told me she was very excited and that she had always hoped that God would allow me to marry one of her other sisters as well.
So, this is what God wanted me to do! He wanted me to live polygamy. Maybe this would cure me of my desire to be a child. Maybe if I married more than one wife, God could fix me. I knew that in the Book of Mormon it spoke against polygamy but the men in this community taught me that that was unless people were commanded to do otherwise.
I married the sister, never being in love with her, simply trying to please God. I couldn’t stop thinking about her sister. After two years, that marriage ended and I was free to pursue the girl that I loved. I went back to the rock to be around her. In time, we married.
After being around Bob Foster for the next three years, and trying to live the Law of Consecration, but feeling more like I was being used as a slave for my hard work and my money, working hard, getting paid, and giving it all back to the community, my disillusion caused me to start seeking again to find if maybe I had made a mistake and was not in the right place.
My brother-in-law and I heard of a man named David Witmer, who was claiming to have met Jesus Christ, in person. He knew the scriptures very well, had a lot of cool stories, and wrote a lot of cool revelations.
After thirteen years of marriage, she knew it wouldn’t work and my marriage ended. I was on the floor crying, thinking I had failed God once again, and she walked in the room, threw the phone to me, and said, “Call David Witmer. He tried to get a hold of you.” So, I called David, with tears in my eyes, explaining to him what had happened, and he persuaded me to come and work for him in his housing company, Almega Homes, in St. George, UT.
The Sealed Portion
At one point, my dad had called me, telling me that this crazy man named Christopher had published the Sealed Portion and he asked me if I wanted a copy. I said, “Yes. Get it to me as quickly as you can.”
I read it. I loved it. But I still had too much confidence in David Witmer. I got word that David Witmer said it was made up. I was so discouraged and disgusted and so tired of being lied to that when I was driving down the road on my way to work, I threw the book out the window.
I stayed with David for six years and had a lot of great experiences. He was my friend. We spent a lot of time together. In time, David became controlling and I ended up leaving.
Search For Real Truth
Once again, out on my own, wondering what was the real truth, feeling like I had been fooled so many times by these religious men, I went on another search, but this time I was searching the internet. For three days, I didn’t sleep or eat. I was determined to find the truth. I remember being so tired and so disillusioned, not knowing which way to go. I felt overwhelmed by the amount of information provided on the internet, to the extent that without food or sleep I started becoming delusional and paranoid. At this point, I cried out, “What is the truth? I just want to know the fucking truth! I don’t care what it is.”
Right after this happened, the thought popped into my head, “Find out what that Christopher is doing.”
I googled his name, found a site affiliated with him called The Marvelous Work and a Wonder, and could not believe my eyes. I watched a video called Who We Are and Why We Exist and I was hooked.
At that time, Christopher had a weekly internet show. I started watching it. Over time, I read all the books. I met Christopher and came to know what a kind person he really is. I finally know that I found the person that I had always been looking for who could explain to me answers to every question I’ve ever had. I will spend the rest of my life doing everything that I can to support this wonderful cause. I am finally home.