Babyfur Comic: The scoop of the century pg 3

Babyfur Comic: The scoop of the century pg 3

Order by ace_fox84

Draw by BabyStar

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28033450/

Yes it sure seems like the robots treatment was working perfect. He sure is match comer now after the robot have help him release one big amazing orgasm.

But i sure wounder how is he going to react when he wakes up?

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.

Knottykitten

Knottykitten

The poor goat belongs to knottykitten

Draw by ludisluteo

Source: https://inkbunny.net/s/1661509

Aww poor goat looks like he is force to use his diaper now when his tummy say its time to go potty. Poor thing he sure release one big mess into the waiting diaper and whit this locking plastic pants its nothing he can do about it.

His face sure is pretty blushing now.

Stinky Sissy Pupper

Stinky Sissy Pupper

Order by CryoStahlhard

Draw by ludisluteo

Source: https://inkbunny.net/s/1660935

It seems like someone is going to force to spend allot of time wearing this messy diaper before i get changed. And i think its going to be even more well used before that happen. Special now when he is forced to wear this locking plastic pants.

 

The baby business Part 14

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

When Doug had spent several minutes soothing his hot, red bottom, he sat down in stunned amazement to consider what his life had suddenly been turned into. He thought of the mounds of diapers up in his room, destined to be worn and used by him in the near future. He thought of being forced to call Mrs. Warren “Mommy,” and essentially forced to do anything she told him to do. It was so humiliating. How could he possibly live with this?

But what could he do? he asked himself. He told himself over and over that he had no choice. That it didn’t matter how he got here and what he thought about it. He simply had to play baby now, or risk losing the rest of his life. It was unfair, and miserable, but he had to be realistic: it was his only option if he didn’t want to be the laughingstock of his family, friends, and colleagues.

He stared down at the bulky diaper he had sentenced himself to wear. Because he had gotten cute and self-righteous over the phone with Mrs. Sheffield, he was now going to wear the thickest, loudest diaper ever. It would undoubtedly be noticeable, and even more embarrassing was how much he had contributed to this situation. If he hadn’t gone into the store, if he hadn’t lied about being incontinent, if he hadn’t lied about wanting such an unmanageable diaper, if he hadn’t agreed to the incontinence test….there were so many ways he could have avoided this, he thought. But at every step, he’d made the wrong move, and now he ws stuck in huge, noisy diapers. It was so thick he couldn’t even masturbate through it, even if that was allowed.

But, of course, he had been operating under the assumption that this was a game of which he had control. He now knew differently, but it was too late. This diaper service was a business, and a serious one at that. And he had just contracted them to enslave him in diapers. He snorted. It sounded like a dream come true. But he knew, or thought he knew, what it would really be like. His bottom knew. It was a nightmare.

He told himself he had to take this situation day by day. If he tried to deal with the whole thing, he’d get too depressed. But if he only thought about the next day, he could get through. Tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad. In fact, this week wouldn’t be too embarrassing, since he was studying at home alone. This was almost what he had intended for this weeks, anyway. No one had to know. Next week would be interesting, though, when he went back to work. How would he ever keep his co-workers in the dark? Bulky clothes, he mused… His real life would be quite a challenge.

For the next day, though, his job was easy. Study as much as possible from his GRE Review Book, and, in the words of Mrs. Warren, “be a good little boy.” He actually didn’t care how ridiculous that sounded: right now, and for as long as his bottom kept hurting, he was happy to wear his diaper compliantly, and do anything else he needed to. He wasn’t interested in risking another spanking right now.

Doug was surprised to find his diarrhea clearing up fairly quickly that afternoon. Mrs. Warren was right again, he thought. He didn’t like to admit it, but she seemed to know everything. Of course, he would have been angry at how gullible he’d been, if he’d known how she knew when his BMs would slow down.

And as his diarrhea slowed, he noticed that his diaper consumption was slowing as well. He thought about this idly during dinner. He had a diaper quota to fill, and in the interest of remaining pain-free, he would try to fill it properly, at least in the short term. He calculated his usage for the week at his new, slower rate, and realized he’d be hard-pressed to wet enough diapers. And if he didn’t, he knew what awaited him. So he began to drink more that evening. This, he only half noticed, had the effect (desired by Mrs. Warren) of his spending more and more time in partially-wet diapers, as he conscientiously waited to saturate them fully.

By the next day, Thursday, Doug was consciously starting to relax his sphincter control, wetting whenever he felt the urge. His diapers held almost anything, and as long as he had the opportunity to relax and not worry about control, why not? It wasn’t like it was important whether he tried to hold it back or not. The rules didn’t reward him for that! So who needs it? If I have to be a baby, I might as well take advantage of it, he thought. It’s the only perk, after all.

On Thursday, for the first time, Doug felt the need for the first time to have a real, formed BM. This was another little landmark for him, since it involved using his diaper for an “optional” mess: it wasn’t like the diarrhea, where he was controlling an emergent situation. It also necessitated wearing the diaper for some time afterward, in an obedient attempt to make the diaper appear “fully used.” It usually felt good, but today, as he squished around in his full pants, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being forced to do this, to wear his poop-filled diaper. Mrs. Warren was *making* him do this, and for some reason (embarrassment?) this took away much of the pleasure he usually derived from wearing his messy diaper.

Mrs. Warren stopped by occasionally, and was pleased when she checked Doug’s diaper, diaper pail, toilets, and tub. She acknowledged his good behavior with a sticker on his refrigerator, about which she said he should be proud. He found it difficult to get excited about a sticker. It was just one more embarrassing element to this absurd program.

Mrs. Warren had expected this good behavior. It was typical of her new boys for the first few days, what she called the “honeymoon” period. Their bottoms still stung, and the potential humiliation of the photos was still fresh in their minds. They also weren’t yet bored with the program, and hadn’t had enough time to build up a huge amount of sexual tension.

Doug did come up with some questions for Mrs. Warren, however, as he found minor problems with the ICP. How, for example, was he supposed to blow his nose if she had forbidden all paper products from his apartment? It was easily solved, Mrs. Warren said, by using an old-fashioned handkerchief, which, like his other laundry, was to be inspected by her before he took it to the complex’s laundry room. Working out details to another problem, Doug agreed to shave himself every other day to keep his bottom and groin smooth. On Friday, he did this for the first time, and found that it wasn’t too difficult, except for his ego.

Saturday was the day of his big test, Mrs. Warren showed up at his apartment early in the morning to see him off. She presented him with a large, pink pastel diaper bag, which he was not so pleased to receive. It was so frilly and infantile that it could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was. He pled his case to her that it was just too embarrassing to take out in public, but Mrs. Warren said that it was more important to be prepared properly than to be socially comfortable, and she therefore wouldn’t accept his excuses.

This brought up an issue Doug hadn’t considered before. Surely there would be times when he’d have to change himself in public, but how was this possible if he wasn’t allowed near restrooms? It wasn’t so hard, said Mrs. Warren. First of all, any time he went out, he should already have informed her, so that she or a babysitter could watch him. If the possibility of needing a change existed, they would know about it, and could appropriately interpret his usage of a bathroom. If he used it to change himself, he should naturally have a used diaper to show for it, and this could be checked when he arrived home. He was, however, warned that any trip to a public restroom would be carefully watched and, often, timed. Some of his “babysitters” might even be male and could follow him in. Any activity conspicuous for masturbation or using a toilet would be punished as such. As long as he hurried and was a good boy, he’d be okay.

So he went off with his pink diaper bag to take his test. It lasted through lunch, and he found that by restricting fluids, he didn’t have a problem needing a change. This was a relief for him. No one even noticed his bag, or his bulky bottom, or his waddle, or his rustling, probably because everyone was so preoccupied with the test. Doug came home from the test impressed with his academic performance, considering all the stress he’d been under during the preceding week.

With the test finished Saturday night, though, Doug started thinking about the future. He was worried about going grocery shopping tomorrow, his first errand outside his apartment wearing diapers. He also started thinking more long-term, and he was already tired of wearing these huge diapers. It was a pain. He never thought he’d miss the convenience of the toilet, but he was starting to. He’d never been in diapers for so long at one time, and it was wearing thin. In addition, there was also the growing problem of his mounting sexual appetite. He hadn’t come in several days, and that was just about a record for him. Plus, he wasn’t excited about resuming his public life on Monday when he went back to work. Hiding these bulky diapers might be impossible, and would at the very least be a huge social burden he’d have to deal with constantly.

All in all, he was beginning to feel far less obedient than he had over the past few days. He was starting to see that, just as he’d feared, he couldn’t live this life constantly. It wasn’t practical or desirable. If he was going to cope, he’d have to figure out some ways to cut corners, to express his independence in little, harmless ways, and to maintain a vestige of his former autonomy.

He mulled this over in his head, before forming a plan for tomorrow. He needed groceries. He assumed he’d be followed, or something, but he wondered how Mrs. Warren would follow him if she didn’t know he’d left. What if he left right after she visited tomorrow? She never returned right away. She’d never know. And if she didn’t know, he could venture out without his diaper, and not risk embarrassment tomorrow at the store…

It made him a little nervous to think about, but it had to work, right? If he was scared, he could always take along a diaper in the car, into which he might be able to change quickly if he somehow met Mrs. Warren on the way there or back. And he’d hurry, to cut down further the chance of being discovered. The risk, he knew, had to be miniscule. And the symbolism, and implications for later, were enormous to him. If he could poke a little hole in her regime, there might be other opportunities later. His life might end up being manageable after all.

Doug went to sleep Saturday night excited, with the first bit of hope about the future that he’d had in days. As he settled into bed, feeling the now-familiar thick cushion between his legs, and hearing the omnipresent crinkling of his diaper, he could hardly wait until for what the next day would bring.

If he’d been able to see what would really happen, however, he wouldn’t have wanted ever to wake up.

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 13

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

Doug hesitated, then took a small step toward Mrs. Warren. He really didn’t want to do this, but he felt that he had to. He took another step toward her, so that he was now within an arm’s reach of her.

She said, “You can go ahead and pull those jeans down.”

Hands trembling, he moved to obey her, fumbling with his belt. Slowly he undid his belt, unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, and let them slide to the floor, revealing his bulky disposable diaper underneath.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said a bit impatiently, indicating her lap. It always took too long the first time. When he hesitated, she reached up and firmly grasped his ear, causing him to yelp with pain. She pulled him roughly down and felt the familiar plastic of a disposable diaper settle on her lap.

Doug suddenly found himself staring at the floor, and feeling very helpless.

“Is this diaper dirty?” he heard her ask him, for what would not be the last time.

“No,” he whimpered feebly.

“Good,” she said. “Now grab the chair legs with your hands, and don’t let go. I don’t want to have to fight your hands up here. If you let go, we start again from the beginning. Got it?”

“Yes,” came the weak reply. He reluctantly grasped the chair legs with his hands. Then he heard his diaper being untaped, and suddenly felt a breeze meet his bare bottom. He was very scared. His bottom was so vulnerable! He now remembered his childhood spankings, and how helpless he’d felt then. He cursed himself for ever having fantasized about them!

SMACK! The first slap was more painful than he could have imagined, but he had no time to think about it. It rapidly got much worse. And to his surprise Doug found himself crying almost immediately, probably as much due to his being upset about the whole situation as to the painful spanking. It hurt, and it was so humiliating. But he kept his hands on the chair legs like a good boy, because he didn’t want to risk the consequences.

And shortly, Mrs. Warren stopped spanking him. He stopped crying out of surprise. Was that it? It hadn’t lasted as long as he’d feared. It was bad, but it could have been worse. He could almost handle this!

“Doug, why are you getting this spanking?” he heard from above him.

“I don’t know.”

SMACK! “Yes, you do, and call me Mommy.”

“Because…I didn’t shave myself, Mommy.”

He felt her rub his bottom. That felt good. “That’s right. Good boy.” He let out a deep breath, relieved it was over. “I like to make sure my bad little boys know why they’re getting their spankings. We can keep going now.”

And with a painful spank, Doug learned that his trial was not nearly over yet. And he cried again, out of pain and the frustration of being helpless. Twice more she stopped to have him repeat why he was being spanked, and twice more they resumed. It seemed to go on forever, far longer than he’d expected, and it hurt more than anything he could remember. His bottom burned and stung intensely. Finally she stopped, saying,

“Will you remember to shave your bottom now, little boy?”

Gasping, Doug replied, “Yes. Yes, Mommy.”

“Good boy. Would you like Mommy to shave you now?”

“Yes, Mommy,” he sobbed.

“Alright, let’s go upstairs.”

And she stood him up, folding his diaper in one hand. His hands went immediately to his stinging bottom.

“No, no, young man,” Mrs. Warren said, brushing his hands down. “That’s a no-no. We don’t touch our bottoms after our spanking, because that makes it feel better. We want it to hurt for as long as possible, don’t we? That way we keep thinking about what a bad little boy we were. Okay? No touching.”

He choked back tears. “Yes, Mommy.” He hated her. But he kept his hands away from his throbbing bottom.

She led him upstairs to the bathtub, which she filled with warm water and had him sit in. He lowered himself into the water carefully. It hurt to sit down, but he didn’t have a choice. He was going to be good. He didn’t ever want another spankingas long as he lived. He watched as she found some shaving lotion and a razor and lathered up his groin. He bit his lip as she shaved away his pubic hair, starting at the top and moving down around his penis and scrotum. He stayed very still, because he didn’t quite trust her. But she was quite adept with the razor, and had had lots of practice. With a sure hand, she easily took away this vestige of his adulthood, and he looked down in amazement at his bald crotch. It looked so strange.

He lay back and lifted his legs, as instructed, and she continued down around his bottom. Doug idly wondered how long his hair would take to grow back, but he needn’t have. It wouldn’t be an issue for a long time.

When they were done, he let her lead him back into his bedroom, where she diapered him for the first time. She did it tenderly, stroking and rubbing him gently. It felt good, he had to admit. He fought feelings of affection for her as she did this, but it was hard. She was so gentle and loving as she covered him with lotion and powder, lots of powder, and then taped him securely in. It actually felt nice, though he tried to ignore this. This was the same lady who had just spanked him. His ambivalence frustrated him.

Afterward, she picked up the copy of the rules that he had laying by the bed (“Why didn’t I read those?” he asked himself again) and led him, wearing nothing but his diaper, downstairs to the sofa, where she read the rules out loud to him, like a bedtime story.

[READ BUSINESS.RULES]

As he listened to the introduction, he fought the tendency to buy into the philosophy. But it sounded almost reasonable to him, and he wondered if they really did care about him and about helping him. But then again, it was so perverse. How could it be on the level? It was so extremely humiliating, he thought, to be lumped in with people who wet their pants or their beds, and to be treated like he was a baby. And how could they think this would really “help” him? They couldn’t be serious. This wasn’t a joke or a game. They really were going to treat him like a baby, on purpose, because they said he deserved it. The whole thing, “Working toward wearing underpants again,” made him feel so infantile. It really was stupid, he decided, not helpful. They couldn’t fool him.

Other thoughts that ran through his mind as Mrs. Warren read what was to become his bible for the foreseeable future involved how he could fake compliance with these rules. There had to be flaws he could find. He was smart, and he had to be able to figure it out. Unfortunately, he knew, Mrs. Warren was smart, too, maybe even smarter, and she appeared experienced at this job. As she read the diaper rules, he saw how smart she was.

Testing diapers was obviously a good idea, and neutralized many of his first disobedient ideas. He wondered if they really did do it, and how. He was trying to think about how he could fake using the diapers (peeing into them without really wearing them, etc.) when his new Mommy told him how her inspectors look for wetting patterns like splattering that gives away bad babies. Wet diapers have to look right, she said, which is impossible without wearing them. He became even more dismayed about the messy diaper quota and rules. He didn’t look forward to sitting in his messes every time. Sure, it felt good once in a while, when HE decided to do on his own, but being forced to was gross, and would significantly add to his cleanup time. Using a shower would help, but what if he was away from home?

The part about avoiding public bathrooms struck him as being impossible to enforce. Then he remembered how she had gone over with him his shopping and banking habits. She really would know where he was all the time. She also informed him he had to call her whenever he left his apartment to go out. He could just leave a message on her cellular phone mail, so she could keep track of him all the time. But she said she had other “clients.” How did she keep track of all of them? He thought that maybe this was a flaw. He’d have to keep it in mind.

It was when they got to the sex prohibition that he really got depressed. From the moment she read him the rules, he knew he’d never be able to follow them. He could nearly accept being forced to live his secret fetish and ultimate fantasy. It was painful, confining, and humiliating, but at least it was his fetish. He was even now feeling strong sexual urges, and it was these that he thought would make this lifestyle palatable. But no sex? No masturbation? He couldn’t imagine. He now did that daily, and that was without a constant stimulus in contact with him. Being sentenced to be in perpetual contact with his fetish object but never being allowed to climax, this was the best description of hell he could think of. He couldn’t live with that rule. He’d either have to get out of the program (which he was still determined to do) or figure out some way of getting around it.

But his heart sunk as he listened to her precautions. He didn’t know where he could hide the evidence if his diapers, tissues, laundry, and tub/sinks were off limits. Could she really test all of these? That red dye sounded fake. And what if he smuggled home some tissues and then threw them away back at work? Hmmm…

His mind wandered as she read him about his discipline. Spankings, and some wet thing, messy diapers, blah, blah, blah.

How had this happened to him? It had only taken four days for his life to be ruined by two women. He’d just wanted some diapers for this week, for a little kinky fun. Now, he was living a nightmare, forced back into an embarrassing toddlerhood filled with spankings and diapers. He had just allowed himself to be spanked and shaved. He felt so degraded. How could this be real?

But the alternatives were even worse, he told himself. At least this way, the rest of his life was still intact, and if he could somehow still get out of this program, nothing would be lost. He was still on target for his high-paying life of research, somewhere in the future. His dream was still intact, even if he had to sacrifice a little more for a few days or weeks to achieve it.

His attention was refocused when she started talking about termination of the program. Another continence test, which he didn’t want to think about, or a trip to a doctor. That would be embarrassing, sure, but at least it couldn’t be tampered with. At least here was a foolproof way out, if everything else failed and six months from now he was still in diapers. This made him feel better: there was an upper limit to this madness. At the most, this surreal distraction would end in six months, and then he could return to his life.

Mrs. Warren finished her little dramatic reading and helped him tape up copies of the mini-list all over his apartment. She then assured him she’d be back often in the next few days and nights to check on him. After a fond little pat on his diapered behind, she left. Doug watched his Mommy drive away in her pink pastel diaper van, and snaked his hands down the back of his diaper, finally able to rub his still-sore bottom in peace.

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.