Not Quite Naptime

Not Quite Naptime

kittens that aren’t quite ready for naptime get either a beanbag chair or a big plush and some strong hypnotic suggestions that are guaranteed to tire them out

Reward for PamperPacker on twitter

Draw and text by ludisluteo

Source: https://inkbunny.net/s/1679625

Aww it sure seems like this cat is going to have a pretty hard time get some sleep now :( And it even seems like he maybe have broke his footed sleeper or maybe the diaper have expending so match so the buttons on the sleeper cannot handle it any more :(

Picking on Someone your own size

Picking on Someone your own size
Kela had to deal with a naughty pup at work. She dealt with him by regressing him, Stinky pupper now

Order by Nightwolf1

Draw by chuckybb

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28122779/

Sure think he regret all the bad thing thing he have done now. But i sure think that is to late for that thing now. Looks like he have get a new mommy to that like to dress him in pink cloths and diapers.

He sure has one terrified look on his face right now. But Kela sure seems to be pretty happy about his regressing into a sissy baby.

The baby business Part 21

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

Doug’s fear of being smelled on the bus convinced him to walk home, an uncomfortable trip that contrasted vividly with his walk *to* work this noon. Now, with every step he felt the largely liquid load in his diaper shift and squish, and the discomfort only increased over the fifteen minutes it took to get home.

The only good thing was that it was nearly six when he arrived home, and he only had to wait a couple minutes for Mrs. Warren to show up. He couldn’t wait. It had indeed been a miserable afternoon, from start to finish. With the exception of his continence test, he’d never been so uncomfortable in his life, he’d never had such a full diaper, and he’d never had to wear a messy diaper for so long. He was thoroughly disgusted, and ready as never before for a clean diaper.

Mrs. Warren was, as always, punctual, and unlocked the outer plastic panties immediately. She watched with an amused smile as he pulled them off. They were obviously dirty on the inside, a sign that his “accident” had overloaded his thick diaper and the first pair of plastic pants. Doug’s gratefulness for the necessary protection this afternoon was tempered by the confirmation that Mrs. Warren had known *exactly* what would happen to him today. She tried to play it off as concern for his incontinence, but Doug was beginning to suspect that Mrs. Warren was enjoying his unhappiness. This was such a frightening thought that he pushed it temporarily from his mind. He remained conscious only of a desire to end his ICP at the end of the six months. While thinking, he also pulled the other panties off and untaped his loaded diaper.

“Whew. That *is* a dirty diaper,” she said, chuckling.

Doug didn’t share her good humor, for he was also embarrassed for her to see him in such a humiliating state, but he reminded himself that it had happened before. And like before, his mind was primarily thinking of getting cleaned up. He waddled carefully into the bathroom and showered, leaving his filthy diaper with Mrs. Warren to examine.

She did, noting the absence of any remaining, unmelted suppository. That was a little disappointing to her for several reasons. It deprived her of the opportunity to “enemize” Doug, which she knew she’d enjoy. More importantly, however, it meant that he was still continent enough of bowel to hold significant pressure in for a long time. But she remembered that all of her boys, most of whom were perfectly on schedule, usually did fine for the first round. It was rounds two and three, which for Doug would come overnight tonight, when their increasingly unconditioned sphincters gave way and allowed their contents out before ninety minutes were up. Exactly when the boys control failed during this difficult day of bowel torture gave her important information regarding their “progress,” and this was the major reason that she put her babies through this rectal hell.

Doug took his time in the shower, enjoying the sensation of being out of a diaper for a few minutes. His relief at having escaped the day’s earlier torment was all-consuming. He savored the feeling, and couldn’t really think about anything else.

And this preoccupation with the present, like every other part of Doug’s Incontinence Control Program, was planned by Mrs. Warren. She had discovered that the more her clients were focused on detailed rules and demands, the less capable they were of seeing the bigger picture. Doug rightfully thought today’s experience was horrendous, but because it took all of his concentration simply to make it through the day, he couldn’t spend any time considering the larger purpose for the ordeal, which was to assess his progress toward incontinence. He was trying only to make it through each day without a spanking; had he known the stakes, he might have shifted his efforts toward avoiding Mrs. Warren’s long-term plans for him.

But Doug was so focused at the moment, in fact, that he was completely shocked and dismayed when he emerged from the shower and saw another two pellets waiting for him in Mrs. Warren’s gloved hand. He’d forgotten that he had more to endure.

“No, please, Mommy,” he whined. His bowels already ached. “I’m all cleaned out, I promise.”

“Shush,” Mrs. Warren said, pushing Doug back on his changing pad. “No more backtalk. You’ll be done soon enough. We have to make sure.” Doug compliantly spread and lifted his legs, allowing himself to be powdered, invaded by the glycerine, and rediapered. Mrs. Warren had two clean plastic panties for Doug to put on. Doug watched helplessly as she locked the outer one. He knew better than to object.

“Do I have to wait six whole hours?” he asked, pushing Mrs. Warren as far as he dared.

“Absolutely.” She packed up her purse.

“But it’s so long in a messy diaper,” he whimpered.

Mrs. Warren glared at him. “That’s enough, young man. Look at it this way: this is making up for all the time you didn’t spend in dirty diapers this week. Remember, now, same rules, if you don’t want an enema. Try to wait ninety minutes, and I’ll see you around midnight. I’ll wake you up if I need to. Now, I suggest you have some dinner.”

She left, and Doug waddled downstairs to eat. This time, though his bowels were nearly empty, they were also still very irritated from the previous suppositories, and they reacted quickly and strongly to this new onslaught of glycerine. The cramps and discomfort started within five to ten minutes, and Doug nearly cried several times. This was so pathetic. He wanted nothing more than to control his own bowels, and he felt degraded, angry, and miserable that he wasn’t allowed to make his own decision about such elementary functions. Mrs. Warren would have been happy that his greatest desire tonight was craving the ability to mess his diaper when he wanted? Life for Doug had certainly changed. He was pathetic these days, he thought.

But once again he bumped up against that wall he now always faced: Mrs. Warren and her absolute power over him. Though his ego still rejected his current impotent situation, he knew he had to force himself to submit to her difficult will.

So he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his diaper clean. Meanwhile, while his bowels churned away, he unconsciously (and vainly) searched for a way to rationalize his participation in this absurd ICP. If he could gain something, anything, out of this humiliating return to diaperhood, his self-esteem wouldn’t suffer as much. Perhaps, he allowed himself to think, Mrs. Warren had actually been right, and he *had* always been a little incontinent. That would make all of this worthwhile, and this pain a little more tolerable. If this were so, then he was in the right hands, and he should just relax and trust in Mrs. Warren’s experience with such matters. But even as he allowed himself to think this way, he knew it wasn’t true. Mrs. Warren was mean to him. His defensive ego was playing tricks on him, and that’s probably just what Mrs. Warren wanted to happen. He shook his head. He hadn’t been incontinent. Probably. He didn’t think so. But it seemed like things were more confusing these days, which frightened him a little in a vague way.

He was, as always, able to reassure himself that, at the very least, it would all end in five months, and he could return to normality. There was still a finite end to this nonsense, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Doug’s second vigil of the day ended just over an hour in, when he decided that maybe an hour really was enough to melt those little pellets, and that waiting longer would hurt too much. Plus, he started to admit to himself, he was getting tired of holding it in: he wasn’t used to such a strain. For the last four weeks, he hadn’t tried to hold it in at all; now he had diarrhea and was expected to hold it in all day long? No one could do that, he thought to himself, practicing some dangerous denial. He regarded his task as super-human, and something of which anyone would tire.

So once again Doug filled his diaper with loose, brown, sticky poop, and he sighed and grimaced as he sat down in it to watch TV until Mrs. Warren returned at midnight. He decided to try to ignore his messy state, and, in fact, he was beginning to grow used to it. His acclimation to such infantile discomfort showed the effect this month had had on him. Mrs. Warren would have again been pleased.

And she was. At midnight Mrs. Warren arrived and found Doug asleep on the sofa in his filthy diaper, and she smiled. She gently woke him, guided him as he sleepily headed upstairs, and helped him remove his panties and diaper.

This time Mrs. Warren found what she was looking for in Doug’s diaper. Two small suppository remnants told her Doug was unable to maintain good sphincter tone for ninety minutes tonight. She was thrilled, but decided to put off Doug’s enema until the morning, when they would both be more awake, for her heightened enjoyment of his increased misery. She didn’t want him to sleep through it!

Doug showered more quickly this time, realizing that there was no virtue in putting off the inevitable. It would just make everything last longer. He dried himself, and, still naked, headed back to his bedroom, where another diaper was waiting for him, as well as Mrs. Warren, who had two more suppositories ready. He groaned as she inserted them with a gloved finger, and then he obediently allowed her to tape him up and lock him in still another plastic panty.

Mrs. Warren saw his exhaustion and beaten spirit and couldn’t resist a smile. “Halfway there, Doug. Twelve more hours.”

He grunted in return. He was tired physically and mentally, and her encouragement couldn’t help him.

“Sleep well. I’ll be here a little late, at about seven o’clock, so that I don’t have to wake you too early,” she said, stroking his hair gently. “Thank Mommy, and tell her goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Mommy,” Doug wearily replied. “And thanks,” he said unconvincingly.

Mrs. Warren had scarcely driven away when Doug felt his bowel cramp for the first time. He groaned and rolled over in bed, still feeling very sleepy but knowing that he should stay awake for a while. When this round of cramps subsided several minutes later, however, he quickly drifted off to sleep.

In its weakened and exhausted state, Doug’s rectal sphincter was no match for the pressure of its contents as they built over the next fifteen minutes. And Mrs. Warren would therefore have loved to have seen the moment, not half an hour after she placed the suppositories, when Doug soiled his diaper in his sleep for the first time in more than twenty years. He didn’t even stir when it happened, and was so used to wearing messy diapers (and so tired from the events of the previous day) that he never awoke, and thus was surprised when Mrs. Warren had to shake him awake at seven the next morning.

“Was Douggie a good little baby last night?” Mrs. Warren asked sweetly when Doug’s eyes finally fluttered open.

“Yes, Mommy,” Doug said reflexively, before he had time to think about whether it was true. He sat up and knew instantly that he was messy. But when last night had it happened?

“Well, let’s see, shall we?” Mrs. Warren unlocked his panties and helped Doug pull them down his legs. Then they untaped his diaper, and Doug looked with curiosity down between his legs to his clean-shaven groin, and the diaper underneath, which contained a little bit of poop and two well-formed glycerine pellets which hadn’t even come close to melting. Doug caught his breath. Had he fallen asleep? He stuttered a few unintelligible syllables before Mrs. Warren cut him off.

“That’s enough. Looks like maybe we weren’t quite as good a little boy as we thought. Head on in there and take your shower if you want, and we’ll talk about it afterward.”

Doug complied, shaking his head in confusion. How did that happen? he wondered. And now what would she do? She *has* to be kidding about the enema, that’s absurd, I’ve never had one of those and I’m not going to start now, he thought, even as he knew that Mrs. Warren didn’t break her promises. But it’s so drastic. Maybe she won’t make me.

But when he returned to his bedroom, of course, there was a large clean bag of soapy liquid hanging from one of his bedposts, with a long tube snaking its way down to his changing pad. Mrs. Warren was holding a container of K-Y jelly and looking at him expectantly.

“Doug, I’d like for you to lay down here for a minute.”

Doug was scared. “Mrs. Warren…I mean…Mommy, do we have to? I mean, I’ll just try again with those suppository things. Please?”

“Oh, don’t worry. We will: we still have one more try with those. But first I’d just like for you to come over here and lie down. Just for a minute.”

He knew now that he couldn’t escape it, so he slowly approached the bed.

“That’s a good boy. On your hands and knees, like a puppy dog, with your bottom down here. Good boy. Now drop to your elbows and put your head down. And spread your legs a little. Perfect.”

Doug closed his eyes. He felt a slippery finger touch his bottom, and then felt a small firm object invading him. He involuntarily tried to clamp down against it but couldn’t. He heard a click as Mrs. Warren released the valve on the tubing to allow two liters of sudsy warm water to fill his bowels. Doug then felt a warmth in his abdomen and an unusual, nondescript feeling as well. But, Doug was happy to learn, it didn’t really hurt at all. It did last for what seemed quite a while. Finally, the plastic object was removed from his bottom. Not *that* bad, Doug thought.

Mrs. Warren said, “Okay, now just hold still for a minute.” As Doug waited he felt gurgling throughout his abdomen and wondered what would happen next. Mrs. Warren was considering whether or not to use the tampon at this point. She decided first to test Doug’s sphincter further. There would be time for the tampon later, and this could be fun.

“Get up now, Doug.” He stood and found Mrs. Warren waiting with a pair of transparent plastic panties, which she helped him pull up his legs.

“Two rules: first, you may not sit or lie down while holding an enema. It’s medically dangerous,” she lied. She knew from other babies’ experience that it was harder to hold it in while standing. “Second, to get maximum benefit, you should hold it in for twenty minutes. After that, we’ll put a diaper back on you and let you empty. These panties are just in case of an accident, but I certainly don’t expect you to need them. Okay, now run along. I suggest you make yourself some breakfast.”

Doug nodded and headed downstairs as Mrs. Warren followed. He was feeling extremely self-conscious of his essentially naked state, and also of the weird feeling of plastic next to his skin. On the other hand, he thought twenty minutes would be no problem, compared with the hour and a half of suppository hell. Mrs. Warren sat down in the living room as Doug poured himself some cereal.

Suddenly he got an unpleasant feeling in his belly. It was sort of vague when it started, but it made him call into Mrs. Warren to ask what would happen just in case he couldn’t hold it for twenty minutes.

“What usually happens when you break one of my rules?” she called back. “I’ll give you a hint: it involves my hand and your little bottom.”

Doug rolled his eyes in response, careful not to let Mrs. Warren see him do it. Everything was spankings with this lady…

Suddenly Doug was dropped to his knees by a huge abdominal cramp and the strongest urge to defecate he’d ever experienced. It was urgent and commanding in a way that even the diaper juice and the suppositories weren’t. He simply couldn’t stop it. He moaned as his tortured bowels ejected the enema into his transparent panties. Mrs. Warren ran in from the living room when she heard his yelp, and upon reaching the kitchen door, stood and enjoyed the view as the water and stool graphically filled his panties.

The spasm relented for a moment, and Doug tried to catch his breath. What was that?! He was dazed. He tried to clear his head, when suddenly Mrs. Warren yanked him by his arm, forcing him to stand.

“Upstairs, young man. I’ll teach you to respect my rules,” she said angrily.

“I…I couldn’t help it,” he stammered. “Please…it wasn’t my fault.” And then, again, Doug experienced cramps, cried out, and released more enema into his dripping panties.

“Oh, you’re begging for it now,” Mrs. Warren snapped, forcefully pulling him over to the stairs and dragging him up them. “Wash yourself off and then get in here pronto,” she told him. “You’ve got two minutes to be over my knees, or you’re really going to regret it.”

Doug was about to cry from pain, frustration, and embarrassment, but he hurried into the bathroom, carefully removed his soaking plastic panties, and stepped into the shower. He let loose another stream of enema, quickly rinsed off, then jumped out, dried himself perfunctorily and, still nude, hurried into the bedroom, where Mrs. Warren sat stiffly in a straightbacked chair near his desk. He stopped abruptly in front of her, suddenly realizing what was about to happen.

“Let’s go, little boy,” Mrs. Warren said. “You’ve only got seconds before I *really* get angry.” So Doug bent himself awkwardly across her lap, grabbed the chair legs as he had previously been instructed, and waited. His bare bottom tingled expectantly. He hoped that she’d go easy on him, but she sounded angry.

She *wasn’t* really angry, of course. As she began to paddle his bottom with her strong hand, she was nearly gleeful about Doug’s apparent progress. He’d only taken about three minutes, far below average in this, the most accurate gauge of actual incontinence she had developed. Most boys at this stage lasted eight to nine minutes, but Doug had folded quickly, evidence that he was enjoying and using his diapers properly. Wonderful news. A spanking opportunity was icing for her.

And she enjoyed this icing, letting her steel hands fall sharply on Doug’s reddening bottom, hearing the vain whimpers of protest dissolve into sniffles and then into outright crying. She felt a certain satisfaction as she delivered this assault. Doug wiggled helplessly, just like all the others. Grown men indeed, she thought with disdain. Anyone who would allow any of this to happen to himself actually deserved it. These boys, who let her take over their lives and dictate their most basic functions, who allowed her to usurp every last vestige of their independence and dignity, surely must benefit from her discipline. If they’d let themselves fall this deeply into her power, she thought, some part of them must be every bit the little baby she forced them to be. They desperately needed to be punished for their pathetic passivity.

These thoughts spurred ever greater spanking effort, and she continued until she was sure Doug’s bottom would be sore for several days. Then she dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, where he lay crying. She went into the bathroom and refilled the enema bag, though this time she only put one liter of soapy warm water, since he probably hadn’t even fully expelled the last one.

She forced Doug, who was now only sniffling, back on the bed and told him to lie like a puppy dog again. At this point he started crying all over again at the recognition that he would receive another enema. She smacked his bottom sharply, and he quickly resumed the position amidst his tears. She administered the enema, this time inserting the large tampon she had brought with her earlier.

Doug felt the plastic removed from his bottom, but to his surprise couldn’t close his anus. Something was still there, and it quickly swelled with the water from the enema, expanding and filling his anal canal completely. Doug turned his head around, hoping to see what it was, but there was nothing to see. He looked to Mrs. Warren for an explanation, and she nearly laughed out loud at his confusion. Doug didn’t understand what was happening, but his bottom still stung enough that he didn’t want to ask any questions, so he remained unsure of what she’d done.

She made him put on another pair of transparent panties, this time just for show, since nothing would get out of his bottom this time, and led him downstairs, where he tried to finish making his breakfast. The heat from his burning bottom built up inside of his panties, making it difficult for him to concentrate. This time, when the cramps hit him, he again let out a yell and doubled over in pain, but as his intestines tried to expel the enema, they met the impenetrable resistance of the tampon, and, indeed, nothing came out. Doug was surprised and a bit upset, since the pain therefore continued unabated. The cramps eventually let up, but resumed after another minute, and by the time twenty minutes were over, Doug was crying again. He never even finished making his breakfast.

Mrs. Warren gently led him upstairs and replaced his panties with one of his disposable diaper. He had never been so overjoyed to get into one. Mrs. Warren reached down the back of his diaper with a gloved hand and pulled the tampon’s string, gently working it out of Doug’s bottom. She withdrew her hand as quickly as possible, leaving the tampon behind, since she knew from experience that the client’s anal sphincter was probably totally worthless at this point of the exercise. And sure enough, a liter of liquid immediately and uncontrollably gushed out into Doug’s diaper.

So again Mrs. Warren changed Doug, who was nearly catatonic after everything he’d been through. He didn’t put up any resistance and probably wouldn’t have even noticed the fact that she inserted the last two suppositories before taping him up again, except that she pointed it out and told him to try not to poop for ninety minutes. After locking him one final time into the panties, she finally left for the morning, not to return until after noon.

Doug was not surprised to feel the pellets ooze helplessly out of his bottom into his diaper less than fifteen minutes later. He didn’t care. He went to sleep. Not even his sore, hot bottom could interfere with his exhaustion. When Mrs. Warren returned six hours later, she told Doug once again to clean himself up, which he did.

Doug was remotely upset when Mrs. Warren told him that they weren’t done yet, that he needed one more enema before it was all over, since he hadn’t melted these pellets either. But he had run out of emotion, and felt his misery only dully now.

For twenty minutes following the administration of the enema, he did find the energy to cry, as colonic spasms shook him repeatedly. But then it was over, and Mrs. Warren cleaned and rediapered him, told him to count his messy diapers from now on, and then left him alone.

Finally, he sat numbly on his sofa, relieved to be wearing nothing but a nice, fresh diaper. His bowels felt totally worn out. He couldn’t believe what had happened to him over the past day, so he just tried to block it out and watch TV.

Five months, he thought. Five months.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

The baby business Part 20

Part 19 is missing.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

It was now Friday of the fourth week, and Doug had thus completed a month of his ICP. Not much was happening around the lab, so Doug took the opportunity to walk home for a leisurely lunch in the privacy of his apartment, where a diaper change was less of a hassle.

A month! he thought as he walked home. It seemed impossible that he’d spent a whole month as a baby, but it was true. He hadn’t been out of a diaper for more than fifteen minutes at all, and hadn’t used a toilet the whole time. He wasn’t enjoying it, certainly, but he was getting used to it a little. He was definitely still enjoying the convenience diapers offered. He hardly thought about when he peed these days: as much trouble as cleanup was, he loved not worrying about holding it in until he got to a bathroom. He didn’t think that carefully about it, because it didn’t seem important to him, but if he had, he would have noticed that he still had to consciously relax his bladder and bowel to empty them. But he was doing it far more often and instinctively. And he enjoyed this freedom, which was what he considered to be his only “perk.”

There were lots of things he still *didn’t* like, however. He hated limiting himself to one orgasm a week, but he wanted to be very conservative about that, especially at first. He had a good system, but he knew that Mrs. Warren was smart, and if he blew it he might never figure out another feasable system. It was too precious. Most of all, however, he hated subjugating himself to Mrs. Warren, acting like a two-year-old around her. He was still very self-conscious about having to call her “Mommy,” and it galled him to have to walk on eggshells around to show her how obedient he was. The only thing that kept him doing it was the knowledge that if he didn’t, he’d get something which pleased him even less: a spanking. And so, even though he was constantly humiliated by the fact that he really was literally trying to be a good little boy to avoid a spanking from his Mommy, it was worth it to him to do so.

Doug continued to be depressed about not figuring a way out of this mess. It was beginning to look more and more like he’d have to ride the thing out for the full duration of the six months. This failure was in itself embarrassing , but he was beginning to see the wisdom in not fighting Mrs. Warren. These last few weeks had been degrading, of course, but nothing like his experience with the wet bet that day. And without a spanking since then, the time had passed more quickly, too. If he could just ride this out for another five months and stay on Mrs. Warren’s good side, which meant being a good boy, he could count on resuming his normal life in April without so much as a single spanking before that. This plan, because of its relative ease and safety, was becoming more and more attractive to him. With his secret masturbation scheme in place, he could almost imagine making it that long.

His musings ended as he arrived home and started to make his lunch. His diaper was soaked (he’d made it through the morning without a change) but he was hungry, so he put off changing himself until after lunch. He had just finished making a sandwich when he was surprised by the sound of a key in the lock of his front door. Mrs. Warren! he thought. Was he in trouble? She didn’t ordinarily visit him during work days, even when he was home for lunch.

“Doug?” he heard her call from the hall.

“Yes, Mommy?” he answered, gritting his teeth slightly at the humiliation of having to call her that.

“We need to talk,” Mrs. Warren told him as she entered his living room, with him following closely behind.

“I called your machine,” Doug said defensively, hoping to head off any problems. “I told you I was coming home for lunch. I was good.”

“Oh, yes, that was a good boy,” Mrs. Warren said, sitting down and putting her keys in her big black purse, which seemed to be more full than usual. “That’s how I knew to find you here. No, that’s not what this is about.”

“Was I bad?” Doug asked worriedly. After he’d just considered how lucky he was for not having been spanked recently, this seemed a big disappointment. Could she know about his secret? But surely she’d appear much angrier if she knew…

“Well, no, I don’t think so,” she replied, “unless you *purposefully* turned in too few messy diapers last week.”

“No, I…I…” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to; are you sure?” His mind raced. What was the punishment for that?

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said sharply. “And don’t question me again. My inspectors told me about it this morning after analyzing your diapers from last week. You only turned in seven messy diapers when you were supposed to turn in nine.”

“Oh,” Doug said. He’d thought he’d done okay last week. The big question was: did he get a spanking for that? “I…don’t know what happened. I’m really sorry,” he started.

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, and no, we don’t spank for that. Your total number of diapers was fine, so we know you were good about using your diapers. So you don’t need a spanking. But I *am* worried that you seem to be slightly constipated. Do you know why I’d care about that?”

“No, Mommy,” Doug said, though he was thinking, because you’re intrusive and perverted.

“Well, constipation is actually a cause of a special kind of incontinence called `overflow incontinence.’ So we always have to make sure our clients stay very regular. That’s why we have the messy diaper quota, you know.”

“Oh,” he said to be polite. He wasn’t constipated, and he wasn’t really interested. Seven dirty diapers was pretty regular, for goodness sake.

“And that’s why any time you turn in too few messy diaper, as you did, we want to make sure it doesn’t become a problem.”

Whatever, Doug thought. What the hell was the point of this? He wasn’t constipated, though he *was* very hungry by now. He needed to move her along so he could eat and get back to lunch. “Okay, well, I’ll try to pay more attention this week,” he said, hoping that that was what she was looking for.

It wasn’t. “Not so fast, little guy,” Mrs. Warren said, smiling. “You obviously don’t remember your rule list. We need to spend the next day or so making sure you aren’t at all, shall we say, `plugged up.'” Doug didn’t like the sound of that. “I call it Bowel Encouragement. Does that ring any bells?”

Doug shook his head, beginning to dread the answer. He hoped it wasn’t diaper juice.

“Well, we just help you along a little by putting something in your bottom every so often for a day. It’s guaranteed to work.”

Well, out of everything that *could* be happening, that didn’t sound too bad. Still, he wasn’t sure he could trust Mrs. Warren. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not really,” she replied. “Let’s go get you started. Have you had a bowel movement today?”

“No, Mommy,” Doug answered. He had himself on a nice regular evening schedule for BMs during the week.

Mrs. Warren smiled with anticipation. “That’s fine. Let’s go upstairs and get you changed into a dry diaper. I see that one’s about soaked.”

Doug looked down, but saw no signs of leaking through his pants. He was amazed at how Mrs. Warren could tell these things so accurately. I mean, I’m wearing pants, he thought. Is my diaper still that obvious? Can everyone tell? Or is she just that good?

Mrs. Warren led him upstairs, aware of the impact her comment would make on Doug’s confidence in public and on his opinion of her. In truth, she simply had seen him arrive home and assumed he’d not yet changed himself. After a whole morning at work, she’d knew he *had* to be soaking.

With considerable embarrassment, Doug lay back on his changing pad and allowed his pants to be pulled down and his diaper changed. Mrs. Warren didn’t do this for him often, and he was still self-conscious enough about it to make the experience painful.

Mrs. Warren ran a baby wipe around his diaper area, cleaning his hairless groin carefully. “Very nice job shaving, Doug,” she said. “You’re turning into a very good little baby for Mommy. If we can get this constipation problem cleared up, we might consider taking you off of probation in a month or two.”

Probation! He’d forgotten he was on probation. Recently it hadn’t been *that* bad being on probation, he reflected, as Mrs. Warren placed a clean diaper under his hips and powdered him heavily. But if he could off of probation, then maybe he wouldn’t be spied on at work, or maybe his garbage wouldn’t be sorted, or his diapers counted. Then he could really get away with stuff! He tried to busy himself thinking how nice that would be while Mrs. Warren finished readying him.

His attention was redirected back to Mrs. Warren as she dug into her purse and retrieved a latex glove and a small unlabeled container, from which she removed two cone-shaped pellets. After donning the glove, she had Doug spread and lift his legs, after which she unceremoniously stuck the two pellets up past Doug’s anus, well into his rectum. Doug was caught off-guard by this new experience, and he sucked in his breath sharply, unconsciously also clamping down his sphincter in self-defense. This effort had no effect on Mrs. Warren’s finger, which had accomplished its mission and retreated quickly. Mrs. Warren had his diaper taped up before Doug even knew what was happening. His bottom felt a little funny with those things inside, but it didn’t hurt or anything. Doug was relieved. That was it?

She had him stand up as she walked over to his dresser and removed from the top drawer a pair of his white plastic panties. She handed them to Doug and told him to put them on, which he did. Then she went back to her purse and, to Doug’s surprise, removed from it another pair of plastic panties. These, too, Doug obediently pulled on, wondering idly what the point of two pairs of panties was. He noted as he adjusted the waist that there was something unusual about the elastic band, but before he had even realized that there was a small chain embedded in the waistband, Mrs. Warren had reached over and snapped closed a tiny padlock. Doug looked up in surprise. Why did he need to be locked in?

But Mrs. Warren just smiled and said, “There you go. Now, here’s the plan. After a while you’re going to want to soil your diaper. I know you’re incontinent, but my advice to you is to try to hold it in for at least an hour and a half. The reason for that is that I want these suppositories to stay inside you and melt completely. If you just poop them out now, they won’t help you at all. So the rule is, keep them in until they’re melted completely; you won’t be able to tell, of course, but an hour and a half should do the trick. I’m going to check your diaper when I change it in six hours, and if I find any part of the suppository unmelted, I’ll know you didn’t get the full effect. If that happens, we go directly to enemas, which you will like even less. First, though, for your comfort, I’d like to try the suppositories.” Actually it was less for his comfort than it was to draw out the entire affair. Enemas were over too quickly.

“Every six hours, I’ll come here and unlock you, let you shower if you need to, and put you in a clean diaper with two more suppositories. In twenty-four hours, after four messy diapers, I’ll assumed you’re no longer constipated, and you can get back to your regular life, no pun intended. Okay? Walk me downstairs,” she said brightly as she picked up her purse.

Wearing nothing but his diaper and plastic panties, Doug accompanied her to the front door. “I have to tell you, Doug, that as important as this treatment is, I know you’ll appreciate my help over the next day. I’d like to hear you thank me for that help every time I see you through tomorrow.” She looked at Doug expectantly.

“Thank you, Mommy,” Doug said quickly, though he wasn’t sure he meant it. At his response, Mrs. Warren smiled a wonderfully evil smile, said good-bye, and left his apartment, telling him she’d be back at six.

Doug looked down at his bulky diaper, now encased in two pairs of plastic panties. He started to get a foreboding that the next day wasn’t going to be very enjoyable for him. He’d actually never heard of suppositories, but he hoped they didn’t work very quickly, because he had to work this afternoon! There wasn’t much to do, just a couple of assays in the lab, but they were timed, and he had to be there all day, until nearly six o’clock, to supervise them. What if he had a bowel movement at work? He had purposely avoided this until now, knowing that the smell would be hideous and difficult to control. He stared at the two pairs of panties he wore and in a flash realized that they must be there for a reason, and that he was probably being set up for a disaster.

Damn that woman! he thought. She must know the effect this might have. She was doing it on purpose. And now he was locked in! He couldn’t escape this at all now: judging by the double protection she’d given him, he was destined to have an enormous accident in a potentially embarrassing place, and there was no way to avoid it! He wanted desparately to expel those little pellets right now, before they could do whatever they were going to do. But that would apparently lead to an enema, which didn’t sound nice at all, and if he knew Mrs. Warren at all, probably a spanking as well. No, he didn’t have a choice. As bad as this day might get, he knew he had to face it.

A glance at his watch told him that this escapade had already nearly made him late for getting back to the lab. So he wolfed down his sandwich and tried to find pants to cover himself, now that he was bigger than ever before. He got his longest shirt and tried it on. It seemed to disguise his diapered state, but when he walked, it tightened against his diaper with every move and made things very obvious, he thought. But that was the best he could do. He had to hurry.

He got to his lab without having anyone comment on or stare at him, so he started to feel better about the afternoon still ahead of him. Until he sat down for the first time and suddenly felt a cramp in his belly. Uh-oh, he thought. It’s already starting. He hadn’t expected it to be quite this fast-acting. It had only been about thirty minutes since Mrs. Warren had inserted the suppositories. He sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on other things, but soon Doug could think of nothing but his bowels.

He heard a familiar gurgling in his stomach, the same gurgling he’d heard a month ago in his bathtub. This was when he knew that this situation would get much worse before it would get better. He was again filled with the desire to push those angry pellets out into his diaper where they couldn’t hurt him, but still he resisted the urge. He wanted to get through this without making it any worse.

The pain and urgency in his bottom got much worse when he got up twenty minutes later to turn off a gel he’d been running. He literally had to clinch his teeth as he stood working so as not to soil himself. By this point the contents of his intestines were screaming to be let loose, but Doug was now determined to go the distance. If he gave in to his urges now, on top of all of the misery he’d already endured over the last hour, he’d also probably be spanked and subjected to an enema.

A co-worker came in several minutes later, and Doug tried to stay still, so as not to move and thereby give away his diapered status. But his friend noticed his obvious discomfort, and suggested he take the afternoon off. Doug nodded grimly but didn’t say anything. He knew that wasn’t really an option. If he went home “sick,” he’d have to tell Mrs Warren, whose remedy might be worse yet. To his relief his co-worker simply shook his head and left.

Doug was sweating by the time ninety minutes were up. But he was elated: he had done it, and now he could relieve himself of this torment. Yet it wasn’t much of a victory, he knew, as he was now simply given the unenviable opportunity to mess his diaper at work and then stay in it for four and a half uncomfortable hours. His discomfort would simply shift to outside his body, with the added risk of someone discovering him. He was trapped, and silently he cursed Mrs. Warren again. He was beginning to realize (in part) how diabolical she could be.

A minute later, when the next round of cramps struck him, he realized it didn’t matter what he wanted or who was to blame. As he nearly cried out in agony, he instinctively squatted down and urgently pushed what he could of his intestinal contents out into his diaper. And his bowels responded explosively. Doug couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation, momentarily luxuriating in the absense of pain and pressure.

When he could, he stood up again and looked around. He lab room was empty, thank goodness. That experience had gone unwitnessed. But now what? How to hide the very full state of his pants? Doug made the unfortunate decision to sit down to think, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He felt his diaper’s contents squish and spread over his bottom and between his legs. This was indeed a mess!

Once seated, though, Doug realized that if he stayed that way and didn’t move, the smell wasn’t too bad. So he just spent the rest of his day parked in his dirty diaper at his desk, periodically relieving himself as he needed, feeling no compunction to hold it in now. Luckily, most people seemed to have taken off early on this Friday afternoon, and he had only two further visitors to his lonely lab, neither requiring him to stand. He couldn’t believe his luck, if you could call it that, but after the rest of the day he’d had, he was grateful for any break he could get.

He listened for the familiar and distant sounds of keys jingling and doors shutting as the rest of the employees left for the day. When all was quiet, at about five-thirty, Doug gingerly stood, picked up his relatively-useless diaper bag, and waddled out of his lab.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

The baby business Part 17

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

Doug packed his diaper bag Sunday night without objection. His bottom and ego still hurt from the day’s events, and he was in no mood to put up a fuss. Still, he was more than a little uneasy about the following day, when he would head to work while wearing his diaper and carrying his pink diaper bag. He was worried about people at the lab finding out, since the job and the graduate program to which he expected it to lead seemed to be all he was living for now that the rest of his normal life had been taken away. So while he obediently placed three fresh diapers, powder, baby wipes, and lotion into his bag, his mind was racing for ways to make himself less conspicuous.

Some ideas were obvious. He’d decided that, starting tomorrow, he’d go in earlier and leave later. That way he could get to and from his lab unseen and wouldn’t have to answer questions about his bulging, waddling, rustling, or his babyish bag. Appearing to work harder wouldn’t hurt his admission prospects, either. In some ways he was very lucky to have the job he had: working alone, being able to wear what he wanted and essentially to decide what hours he’d work. These features were excellent, since he now wanted to avoid other people as much as possible and needed to wear something practical. He had bulky pants and a long sweatshirt that might work. Good thing winter’s coming, he thought. It would be way harder to wear the kind of bulky clothing that was necessary if it were hot.

It was the prospect of diaper changes that really made him anxious. His floor in the lab building had one unisex bathroom in one of the more public areas. It wasn’t uncommon to see lots of people on his way there or back, or for there to be a line. He couldn’t carry the diaper bag, or, even worse, a diaper and some wipes, into the bathroom! It hadn’t been until after Mrs. Warren left Sunday night that Doug struck on the idea of plastic grocery bags in which to carry clean diaper down and dirty diapers back. If it was around lunchtime when he went, he could even say he was just stopping off on the way to lunch. He felt much better after he pre-bagged his diaper changes for tomorrow. With any luck, he might be able to get away with this without anyone finding out.

Monday morning Doug woke up, dry as usual, and tried to get ready as normally would any other morning, except that this morning he had to wet himself intentionally before his shower, and rediaper himself afterward. He left his apartment early, and indeed got to his lab early as well, before anyone else had arrived. Relieved, he tucked his telltale bag safely into an unused lab cupboard and got to work. He was very conscious of how often he wet himself, as leaks might be horribly embarrassing, and so he checked his diaper several times before deciding at 10:30am that he’d better try to change himself.

So he put his clandestine operation into action and was thrilled when it seemed to go off without a hitch. No one really seemed to notice. From there the rest of the day was easier. He had to change himself once more, in mid-afternoon, and he waited until the halls were relatively deserted before waddling home. All in all, the day had been much simpler than he could have hoped for.

And the next several days went well also, in that he seemed to manage to keep his forced infantilization a secret from his coworkers. Mrs. Warren dropped by every day or so “to say hi.” Wednesday night she commented that she’d been told that Doug was being a good boy at work, and that she was glad to hear it.

Doug’s heart stopped. Mrs. Warren had an informant at work! Someone in his last bastion of normality *knew* about him. He didn’t say anything to Mrs. Warren (sitting down was only now becoming painless), but his mind once again raced, as he tried to pinpoint who his informant could possibly be. He should have known he’d be spied upon. But now he worried that the informance might tell others. Everyone might already know by now! But he couldn’t ask, because that would give it away. He was forced to watch everyone on Thursday, looking for clues that they might be on to him. But if anyone knew, they were quiet about it. No one appeared to watch him or react any differently than in the past.

Thursday night, as he was sneaking home after he’d thought everyone had left, he turned a corner and ran right into his lab director, Dr. Stillman, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman in her late thirties, with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was also, not coincidentally, the admissions director for the doctoral program Doug hoped to enter next fall.

“Ah…Doug, isn’t it?” she asked crisply as she sized him up in front of her. Doug tried to hide his bag behind his legs. “Keeping late hours, are we? Well, that can’t hurt. It’s nice to see someone working so hard for a change.” At this, she sort of chuckled to herself, and kept walking.

Doug stood in the hall after she’d left and tried to figure out what she’d meant by that. It had seemed like a compliment, and yet she’d laughed. She always intimidated Doug, to some degree because he found her extremely attractive. Now, though, in his paranoid mood, he found himself wondering if his boss might actually be the informant: “working hard for a *change*,” she’d said. Maybe this had meant something else from what he’d thought. (This would worry Doug for a long time, and perhaps never be satisfactorily settled for him, since she never made any other similar comments and he knew he couldn’t exactly ask her directly.)

Other than this incident, the rest of the week was uneventful, and Doug finished his second week of diaperhood smoothly. He was as obedient as he could be, and tried to wet and soil his diaper conscientiously. He settled into a predictable pattern of changing himself in the late morning and midafternoon, and he found that as long as he remembered to do that, he didn’t need to think about *when* exactly he wet himself. That seemed convenient to Doug, though he would discover later that it was yet another piece in the puzzle of his undoing.

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Bathroom Surprise

Bathroom Surprise

Kaa hiding in the female Bathroom at school only to pounce on an unsuspecting Kela as she decides to use her Pampers

wow Kela, either she is a good girl or a bad girl. I guess she couldn’t help it with a snake round her

Order by ?

Draw by ? chuckybb ?

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/27928185/

Poor Kaa you can sure dont decide match if you should use your diaper or not when the snake has your in his bound. But in other hand good is was there now.

Poor thing but i sure wounder what is going to happen whit here now?