Celebrating a (mostly) dry night!

Celebrating a (mostly) dry night!One of Bosky’s Twitter pal’s likes to celebrate the mornings he’s had a dry night! I wanted to draw him doin’ that!

And Bosky’s been known to have not-so-dry nights, so that’s what happened here. X3

Bosky’s border collie pal is named Austin! ( )

Draw by Bosky

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/29505512/

Awww seems like one of them did dent woke up dry this morning and have something to celebrate :(

Maybe they should switch underwear now? It seems like the wrong furry is wearing diapers here.

Tricked into Diapers Chapters 3 and 4

This story is written by tammie2

III.
The next morning, Nancy hurriedly dressed and readied herself for her day. Down the hall, she could hear Lisa getting ready for school. Pausing just long enough to catch a deep breath, Nancy entered Tom’s room and called out to the still sleeping young man.
“Breakfast in five minutes. If you want me to make it for you, you had better put a move on.”
Groggily, Tom opened his eyes and began to sit up. Suddenly he stopped, startled, and peered down at his crotch. He glanced quickly at Nancy before lying back down and pulling the sheet closer to him.
“I think I’ll sleep in today. I’ll eat something later.” He looked cautiously at Nancy, eager for he to leave the room.
“OK, but don’t expect me to make it for you.” Nancy was stern, trying to keep in tune with their strained relationship. “By the way,” she said as she turned to leave, “what’s that smell?”
“I don’t smell anything,” Tom stammered. “Please go away and let me go back to sleep.”
“Your sheet is wet,” Nancy said, adopting a concerned tone. “What’s going on here?” She began walking toward the bed.
Tom looked down, horrified. In his sleepy state, it hadn’t occurred to him that the top sheet would have soaked up some of the urine. A large spot hinted at what Nancy would see below.
Nancy lifted the top sheet up to her nose, sniffed it and then threw it back, repulsed. She glared at Tom’s wet pajamas, secretly smiling at how frightened and confused Tom was.
“I can’t believe it. Your parents didn’t say anything about your bedwetting problem. Here I thought I would be boarding an adult, not a child. Wait until Lisa finds out about this.”
“No! Don’t tell her!” Tom almost shouted, then quickly lowered his voice, afraid that Lisa would hear. “This has never happened before. Really. I promise, it won’t happen again. Just don’t tell Lisa.”
Nancy smiled inside. He was almost begging and it felt good. She had him where she wanted him. She sneered and was pleased as Tom’s eyes grew wide, then softened her expression and spoke to him in an almost motherly tone.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll think about it. You stay here in your wet bed until Lisa leaves for school, and then we’ll talk. Don’t even think about coming downstairs.”
Tom laid back as Nancy left the room. This was a nightmare. He was extremely uncomfortable. The cold, wet pajamas rode up his crack and stuck to his skin all over. The smell of stale pee was nearly overwhelming. Worst of all, he had no idea what his aunt’s decision would be. He watched the door, waiting and waiting.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the door opened. Nancy came in and sat on a dry section at the end of the bed.
“Here’s the deal—no negotiating. I read once that most little boys wet the bed once while adapting to a new environment, so I’m willing to forgive you this time, but only if things change around here. You must listen to me and obey my orders. No more passes at Lisa. If you fail to live up to this, I tell Lisa about your, uh, episode.”
Tom nodded gleefully. This was better than he thought. Once the sheets were clean, it was his word against his aunt’s. Lisa would believe him any time. His face fell, then, as Nancy continued.
“I know what you’re thinking, so I brought this.” She revealed a camera in one hand. Tom began to panic. “Lisa’s still downstairs, so if you don’t agree I’ll call her right now.”
Tom sighed and nodded again. He was trapped, but figured he would find the pictures later. All he needed was a little time. He laid back on the bed.
Lisa took an entire roll of film, making sure she got close-ups of Tom’s wet crotch and a good view of the entire bed. She made him pose in humiliating, babyish positions. She could feel his humiliation building. When the last shot was taken, she told Tom to get up.
“OK, first order. Get into some dry clothes and wash your sheets and pajamas, then clean your mattress. I’m certainly not going to do it for you.”
With that, Nancy left the room and closed the door, leaving behind a bewildered young man.

IV.

Nancy’s plan called for skipping one night, and the time moved slowly for her. She was pleased, though, to see that Tom began resuming some of his old ways by the second day. His rude behavior made her resolve to follow through even stronger.
Finally, it was time again. As the first drops of her pee began to drip into the enema bag, however, Nancy scrunched up her nose, worried. The odor this night was acrid and overwhelming. The longer she peed, the stronger it became. She couldn’t see Tom sleeping through such a stink, but didn’t want to postpone now. Cautiously, nervously, she entered his bedroom.
She didn’t have to worry. Tom’s loud snoring revealed how deep asleep he was. With unconcealed delight, Nancy opened the valve and wet Tom’s bed for him. The room smelled like hell. This time, she knew, he would know what happened without having to peek under the sheets. She wanted to be there when he woke, just to see his face.

This story is written by tammie2

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.

Who is the baby?

Who is the baby?Draw and everything by ConejoBlanco

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28585491/

That cat sure have a point in what she is saying here. But poor bunny seems like she have ended up wetting here underwear.

Rebel in the backyard

Rebel in the backyard

Potty rebels are still around making messes wherever they wants, like this bunny, whe just wants go in the blanket of her friend. :P

Draw and everything by ConejoBlanco

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28062662/

Maybe that was not the best place to let go and wet you underwear. It sure seems like the other bunny dont like that at all.

Wet Undies Again? Looks Like it’s Back to Diapers

Wet Undies Again? Looks Like it's Back to Diapers

Looks like someone’s getting put back into diapers after soaking their big boy pants.

Characters belongs to ALittlePrince and lulukitten

Text by ALittlePrince

Draw by Wen

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/27716354/

Awww poor looks like ALittlePrince have woke up whit another night time accidents and this time his mother think it is time for him to get back into diapers again. Special during his sleep so the diaper can handle his bedwetting problems and the diaper helps his bed to stay dry and soft instead of being wet and cold. That most be match more nicer :)

The baby business part 9

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

Mrs. Warren held out the clipboard for Doug to read, But Doug had no interest in reading the contract. It didn’t matter what it said: he had to sign it, and with any luck he wouldn’t have to honor it. It was immaterial what it said.

“I’ll sign it. It doesn’t matter. Just give me the pen, and let me out of here,” he said irritably.

Mrs. Warren smiled, and found a pen in her purse. She’d had a couple of boys like this. She certainly didn’t care whether they read the contract. For her it served as one of her backup weapons, in the unlikely event that her right to punish her boys as she saw fit was ever questioned. But in her three years at this job, through many hundreds of spankings and other punishments, she’d never had a boy seriously question her authority. Not after he understood about the pictures, and had thought through what making a formal complaint would mean. She knew that the police would have a hard time believing the story, and would likely end up harassing her client more than they would her. The newspapers, Mrs. Warren knew, would love to get a story like this one, and if they did, her career would be over, certainly, but so would the lives of her clients. Imagine an adult male allowing himself to be diapered and spanked repeatedly, allowing himself to be tied in his bathtub until he soiled his pants, allowing himself to be photographed in that state, even going shopping for diapers in the first place. Her clients had all considered the possibility, she was sure, and once they saw the absurdity of their case, and realized the implications of pressing charges, they swallowed their pride and behaved themselves like good little boys.

The contract was so that in the event that she enrolled a stupid or crazy client into her program (someone who *couldn’t* comprehend how damaging “coming out” would be to their lives), she could protect herself legally when he made the insane choice to sue. And it was another tool for her to use in coercing her boys: “Yes, I think you WILL bend yourself over my knee. I’ve got a signed agreement which I could have enforced by law if I wanted. Would you like the police to help me spank you?” It was as vain a threat, of course, as her boys’ threats to sue, for none of them, including Mrs. Warren, really wanted that much attention focused on their activities. But perhaps her boys didn’t know that.

At any rate, she simply smiled as she held the clipboard and pen so that Doug, in his bound state, could sign, which he did without so much as glancing over the page.

“I knew you’d be a good boy eventually,” Mrs. Warren said sweetly. “You will want to read that, perhaps after I’ve left. I will also leave a more detailed summary of the rules of the program with you so you can start learning, and obeying, them tonight. I advise you to read through it carefully, as you will be held accountable for all the numerous rules of your ICP, and I will start punishing you even tonight if you break any of them.”

Doug wasn’t really listening. Just nod at her, he thought to himself. Pretend like you care, and then she’ll leave, and you can figure out what to do to get out of this mess.

“Now, I just need to go over a couple of things with you before we get you cleaned up and into a nice, fresh diaper. I’ve had a look around your apartment, so I’m pretty sure of my facts, but I always like to confirm them with new clients. You work in the grad school’s lab in preparation for applying for their program next year. Is that right?”

Doug, as distracted as he was, was still shocked. This lady had been through his private things! He felt even more violated and vulnerable. What business was it of hers? Was there any limit to her intrusiveness?

Mrs. Warren *was* actually sure of her facts, and went through this presentation simply to scare her young charges. She wanted them to think that she knew everything and couldn’t be fooled. The reality, actually, wasn’t that much different. She took Doug’s expression of disbelief as evidence that she was having the desired effect.

“And you grocery shop every Sunday at `The Grocery Place?'” Doug could only nod dumbly, wondering how she could possibly know so much about him. (In fact, Mrs. Warren always marveled at how much could be learned about a person who kept receipts, as Doug did…)

She went on to `check’ with him about where he banked, rented videos, dry-cleaned. He simply nodded at each revelation, accepting this as evidence of how smart she was and how difficult getting out of this situation would be. He would have argued with her about her right to rifle through his apartment, but as he was still tightly bound, this wasn’t really the time.

This, of course, was all information she needed in order to keep track of Doug during his initial probation period. She would require him to let her know where he was at all times when he left the house, and she was adept at arranging for surrogate “babysitters” to keep eyes on him all over town. She didn’t need to ask about his drugstore, since he would now be shopping exclusively at The Drugstore, her employer.

And when she had gone over everything, she did finally release him. She undid his cuffs and removed the rope to the back beltloop of his jeans. Doug lowered his arms and just spent a moment savoring the feeling of blood in his hands again. Then he stood, and felt some not-quite-dry effluent slide down his pants leg and drop out onto the bathtub floor. Mrs. Warren made him remove his pants in the tub while she watched. Doug didn’t care. He assumed she wanted to watch in order to embarrass him some more, but he was past being embarrassed today. So he was caught off guard when he glanced up after pulling his filthy jeans off and saw a flash go off. Mrs. Warren was recording this moment with a small automatic camera, and had captured him as he stood in his brown-stained underpants with semisolid brown goo caked on his legs, and with his soaked jeans at his feet. He cared a little more about this, but not enough. It was done. He just wanted to shower.

She kept watching and got several more pictures as he peeled off his disgusting underpants, soaked socks, and his relatively clean shirt. She had him put his underpants in one small clear plastic baggy, and all the rest of his clothes into another larger one. She told him the larger bag would be available to him if he wanted to wash the contents later. He would not, however, see his abused underpants again. He was told he wouldn’t need to.

Then she observed his shower, and handed him a towel with which to dry himself. He felt much better, but still felt dazed as he followed Mrs. Warren into his bedroom, where he looked around as he stood there naked. He saw two large bags of disposable diapers and several other containers of what he took to be the stuffer pads. On his dresser were neatly stacked the contents of yet another bag of disposables, with shorter stacks of the stuffer pads next to them. His underwear drawer was slightly open, and he could see that it no longer contained his underwear, but was stuffed full of plastic panties. On his queen-sized bed was spread a large changing sheet, and a diaper and pad were already laid out on it, with lotion, vaseline, oil, and powder standing by and ready for his use. While he was still absorbing the transformation his room had undergone, Mrs. Warren instructed him to climb up on the changing pad and put on the diaper.

“I’ll just watch to make sure you do a good job. We don’t want leaks.”

As he walked to the bed, his hands attempting to hide his genitalia, his felt his face turn red. This was obviously more embarrassing than with Mrs. Sheffield in the store, not only because he was being watched, but because the observer had seen him wet and soil himself, and knew he needed to be in the diaper. *He* knew that he didn’t, or at least he thought he didn’t. And putting this diaper on felt to him an awful lot like giving up, which his pride made it difficult to do. But his practical side started talking, too: Look, it said. You’re not giving up. You’re actually tricking her by making her THINK you’re giving in. In fact you’re just trying to get her to leave, so that you can think clearly enough to figure a way out of this mess. You’ll win this game later, but to make it work, you’ve got to make her think you’re a “good little boy” by gritting your teeth and putting on this diaper.

So Doug slowly walked over to the bed and gingerly crawled up onto the changing pad, next to the open diaper. He looked doubtfully at the arrangement of powders and lotions next to him.

“It’s up to you,” Mrs. Warren said, reading his mind. “You have to care for your own skin. These are just possibilities. The only thing I require is that you use powder. Because I like the smell. You’ll appreciate it, too, once you get a little more experience with dirty diapers. So pile that on, but feel free to experiment with the rest of the stuff here.”

Doug didn’t want to use anything at all, but he obediently picked up the powder and sprinkled some on the open diaper, then set the bottle down next to it.

Mrs. Warren shook her head. “Nice try. Keep going with the powder. I want you to put it on yourself AND in the diaper, and I’ll tell you when to stop.”

Doug crinkled up his nose, but he obeyed. He shook out a lot of powder into his crotch, and onto his thighs, then onto the diaper. She made him rub it in, and add several more handfuls to his bottom and stomach. When he was covered in powder, and nearly choking from the sweet perfume, she told him to put the diaper on. He carefully slid it under himself. She showed him how to center it and then fasten it lying down, so it fit best. He stood up carefully and noted with dismay how bulky the diaper felt now. Mrs. Sheffield had been right: this was way too much diaper for him. He could hardly bring his legs together, and there was no doubt that it would show clearly under any of the clothes he presently owned. This could be very bad. He’d never be able to hide it. But he was chagrinned to recognize that he only had himself and his libido to blame.

Mrs. Warren, however, seemed pleased. She stuck fingers into his waist and legs, testing the fit, and patted him on the rump, pronouncing him well-diapered. “I knew you could do it yourself. You know, Mrs. Sheffield thinks you’re something of an imbecile, or at least a little slow. She thought you’d need a lot of help.” She winked at him. “But I know better. So I’m going to be watching you very carefully.”

Doug got a chill down his spine. She was on to him. She knew he would be scheming. It was eerie the way she seemed to read his mind. He’d have to be very clever. Perhaps he’d even have to play along for longer than he’d thought before trying to escape, so that she’d let down her guard.

“Now, come downstairs and see what I’ve got for you.” Mrs. Warren led him downstairs wearing only his diaper. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door, revealing a gallon jug of what looked like milk. She pulled it out and poured him a large glass.

“The diaper juice from before is very mild, but it is very long-lasting. It would ordinarily keep you rather…runny, for several days. So I want you to drink some special milk I have made to help slow your bowels down and to replace your electrolytes. The quicker you drink this milk, and the more of it you drink, the quicker your diarrhea will stop. So if the diarrhea gets worse, you need to drink more milk to fight it. Okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you can manage to drink this whole gallon by tomorrow, that ought to do the trick, and tomorrow you’ll get back to normal. Some people, I should warn you, though, do take a little longer to readjust.”

She set the glass in front of him. “Go ahead and drink this first glass now so I can make sure you at least get started.”

Doug nodded wearily, and drank it quickly down. He was disappointed that the diarrhea would last a while, and he was willing to try anything that would help. If it would help, he’d try to drink the whole gallon before dinner. It didn’t taste quite like milk; it was chalkier and slightly bitter. But since he had never had Milk of Magnesia, he didn’t recognize the taste, and assumed it was the extra medicine and electrolytes that made it taste funny.

In fact, this additional concoction of Mrs. Warren was designed to keep him very loose, out of control, and essentially diaper-dependent for at least the next few days. It would help get him started on the right track, and it amused her to think of Doug drinking this stuff to get rid of the very diarrhea it was causing. The more he drank, the worse it would be, and the more he’d drink. She’d check on him to make sure he didn’t really get dehydrated, and the game would stop after he was securely in the program and ran out of “milk.”

After he’d drained the glass, Mrs. Warren handed Doug a copy of the contract he’d signed, and a longer list of rules he’d be expected to follow. Doug thought that perhaps he’d read them tonight or tomorrow, just to satisfy his curiosity, but her told himself that it didn’t really matter.

Mrs. Warren then gave him his last minute instructions. “I’d advise you to use the rest of the day to explore your apartment and notice the changes I’ve made. Also, it would be wise to pore over those rules, because I’ll be checking on you often. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow, and I’ll probably be back overnight. I had keys to your apartment made, so I can check on you while you’re sleeping.” Doug looked a little shocked. “Oh, it’s perfectly standard. You told me I could do this in your contract. It’s a good little contract; perhaps you should read it sometime. And read the rules. You have some homework to do before I see you tomorrow.”

She winked at him as she was gathering her things to leave. “Promise me you’ll be a good little boy for me.”

“Okay,” Doug said unconvincingly.

“Now be nice. I see we’ll have to work on your manners. I’m trying to be kind, so you won’t get too many spankings right here at the beginning. But my kindness, you’ll find, only goes so far. So promise me you’ll be good.”

Doug swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am. I promise.”

She patted his diapered bottom. “Yes, Doug. I’m sure you’ll be a very good boy for me.”

Then she left, and Doug waddled upstairs to his room, carrying his rules and contract with him. He collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the physical ordeal and from mental fatigue. He had a lot to think about, but it would have to wait.

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.