Pants messy

Billy’s Fault Part 5

This story is written by Les Lea

Billy’s mind was overflowing with anger at the way he’d been conned into wearing a nappy. It was they who’d spiked his food to make him shit himself; it was they who’d somehow made him wet the bed. None of this was his fault. He would be wary of anything they said or did from now on but the first thing to do was get out of this stupid nappy.

He rushed upstairs to his room and, out of sight of Lizzie, yanked off his plastic pants, ripping the vinyl in the process, and dragged down the weighty nappy. The soaker pad was yellow and bloated with pee but he left it on the floor and headed to the bathroom to sponge down.

Even though his tummy cramped and his penis burned at times, he was just too angry to care.

A quick damp scrub and he headed back to his room, found a pair of briefs and slipped them on. He pulled off his t-shirt and put his favourite football shirt on, then grabbed a pair of jeans and quickly zipped himself in. He immediately felt better. Socks and trainers were next before he stood in front of his mirror and looked back at an eleven year-old boy and not some supersized toddler.

His throat was still parched and, as he made his way back to the bathroom, past the discarded ripped vinyl pants and urine soaked nappy to get a glass of water, his confidence grew now such clothing was no longer part of his life.

As he quenched his thirst he surveyed the scene and it was with a sense of achievement that this act of independence, which he knew was a long time in coming, had been needed to reaffirm his self-worth.

Billy was satisfied that the thick, restrictive padding was where it should be, in a messy pile on the floor and not gripping his groin. He’d let himself be coerced into believing they were necessary but all they did was make him into a big baby. No more would he allow his mum, sister or anyone to make him wear a nappy… they wouldn’t con him again, of that he was sure.

His stomach was rumbling in all the excitement but he was glad to be out of his stupid baby clothes.

He was a boy on a mission and that was to be as far away from his suffocating family as possible.

All he had to do to be free was to stride out the front door and go and see his friends. There was no intention of returning to play with his silly sister or being subjected to Lizzie’s authority.

The exhilaration he felt now he was wearing his own clothes, the stuff he liked, and not subject to Lizzie’s or his mother’s views, made him feel strangely elated. A shiver of freedom rippled through his body but, there was another pang in his stomach that he tried to avoid as a brief spurt of hot pee shot into his clean underpants.

It was typical of Billy to not yet to piece together what the doctor had said with his current situation… and that situation was his own fault. He had swum in the canal but still the connection of these strange and painful tremors evaded him. He was now full of blame, and that was squarely centred on his ‘scheming’ family.

Just as he made for the front door Lizzie caught him and demanded to know what he was doing.

“I’ve had enough of all this fucking baby stuff. I’m off out to be with my friends and…”

“Don’t you swear at me you little fucker…” Lizzie was in her no messing motherly attitude “Mum says you have to stay here, and the doctor says…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah… I don’t bloody care.”

Foul language poured from Billy’s lips as he continued to complain loudly about being treated as a baby, how it was all their fault and how he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore… he was off to meet up with his mates.

Although Lizzie was livid at this act of defiance she was also surprised at how he knew she had something to do with him wetting himself. However, she had other things to worry about at that moment so tried to reason with him saying it was the doctor’s instruction to…

Not believing a word of her explanation, Billy stormed out the door and made his way quickly down the path.

Now convinced she needed to act, Lizzie was about to give him a crack and drag him back indoors but he turned on her and yelled.

“Touch me again and when I’m bigger I’ll beat the fucking crap out of YOU.”

The malice in his voice as he delivered this line made Lizzie do a double-take. It was the first time he’d threatened her in such an aggressive way and it took her by surprise.

Noticing her hesitation he turned and speeded up his exit.

He was right in his opinion, girls ruined everything. They were controlling and had all ganged up on him… he needed to be with his mates.

Having had a quick think about his threat, Lizzie dismissed it and was about to haul him back in when he suddenly grabbed his stomach, doubled over and fell to the ground. Less than five seconds later he was violently filling the seat of his jeans with another messy purge.

The agony was brief but intense as Billy eliminated a disgusting, smelly concoction of waste from his body. Without the thick protection he’d been wearing the mess went everywhere. He rolled around in his own filth trying to make the pain go away, which it did in a matter of moments but by then the damage was done. Billy lay exhausted in a disgusting soggy mass unable to comprehend what had just happened.

His sisters looked on in surprise but didn’t rush to help. Lizzie had no idea why he was crapping his pants the way he was but thought her shitty little brother deserved all he got. Dee-Dee was just shocked. Shocked at the way her brother was oozing stuff through his clothes. Unconsciously, but gratefully, she hugged her own protection hoping the same thing wouldn’t happen to her.

However, their mother had told them all to stay at home because of what the doctor had ordered and to keep Billy in protection. He’d defied them, thinking he could do what he liked, so, as far as Lizzie was concerned, had received his comeuppance.

Lizzie looked down at the pained expression on Billy’s face.

“The doctor says you’re still infected and need to wear protection… what on earth got into you, you, you – STUPID FUCK HEAD?”

#

Billy was just a weeping messy heap hugging his stomach and not daring to budge. He was afraid that any further movement would cause him to explode in his pants as another searing pain shot along the length of his penis and cramp grabbed at his stinky bottom. Another stream of burning pee burst through his already sodden jeans, whilst a stabbing pain forced him to release yet move foul liquid into the steaming stinky seat of his pants.

For those brief spasms he could do nothing to contain anything that wanted out of his body although, once they passed, he wailed in mortified shame for help.

Lizzie had a good mind to leave him there but realised she’d been put in charge and this would reflect badly when her mother got home. Reluctantly, she helped her brother up and guided him to the back garden. Billy just wanted to get cleaned up and go to bed, the misery of his situation taking away all his strength and ability to offer resistance.

However, Lizzie didn’t want to trail the shitty boy through the house so took him into the back garden where she helped him strip out of his messy garments. His clothes were a foul-smelling disgrace; from underwear to jeans, to shirt, to socks, everything was just a filthy brown soaked mass.

Once naked, she hosed him down with freezing cold water, the shock of which sent him into hyperventilation as he struggled to catch his breath.

Billy put up a slight, though ignored, protest as Lizzie instructed him to turn around so she could flush all the crap from his body. She asked Dee-Dee who was standing looking stunned at her naked brother (who was shivering under the constant flow of cold water), to go and get a couple of old towels from the pile they kept in reserve for ‘accidents’.

“Not the good towels,” Lizzie emphasised. “The old ones we use to mop stuff up with.”

This was the same pile she’d fashioned his towel-cum-nappies from which he’d had to wear for his trip into town.

She could see her brother shivering but every crevice had to be sluiced out to make sure no crap remained. She decided to hose his clothes down later and leave them to soak overnight in a light bleach solution… but they were in quite an awful state and might not be redeemable.

Billy’s teeth were chattering and he was also shivering with trepidation. The fact that he’d removed his protection, shit so violently and messed his clothes was sure to bring down untold wrath from his mother.

Dee-Dee returned with a bundle of grainy old rags which Lizzie then used to dry off her still blubbering brother.

“Mum’s going to go ballistic.” She shared her thoughts with an already fearful Billy.

Billy knew this wasn’t an understatement. If indeed all this had been planned to keep him in a nappy he couldn’t see how it was going to go well when she got home. However, at that moment he was just trying to keep warm as his older sister frenziedly rubbed him dry.

Once satisfied he was clean she guided him back up to his room where she deliberately made sure he knew his place.

“I don’t want any argument or you’ll get a crack… understand?”

Billy was already panicked so didn’t need her to threaten violence, he nodded weakly.

She picked up the cast-off, well used nappy and ripped plastic pants and looked at Billy with contempt.

“You’re a bloody stupid arsehole,” she shook the rejected items under his nose.

“You’ve ruined a new pair of pants and look… look… LOOK,” she was angry, “your nappy’s soaked and you still thought you didn’t need one.”

There was more than anger in her voice as she berated him for being a selfish, self-centred big baby who shit and pissed himself and still thought he was a big boy. Her remarks were meant to hit home and hit home they certainly did. Her malicious words scored a bull’s eye… he was left feeling useless and inconsequential.

A few minutes earlier he thought he was in control. Now, as Lizzie cleaned him up, he realised that any power he had was expelled from his body along with the crap. He was a very contrite eleven year-old who was about to be returned, with some degree of force and resignation, to a nappy wearing eleven year-old toddler.

Lizzie was in a ‘no messing’ mode as she applied a very thick layer of anti-rash cream. She piled it around his genitals and over his bottom, resisting the temptation to give his hide the promised spanking. She knew her mother would probably want first go at that particular target once she knew what had happened.

Gathering a huge disposable, she added a couple of heavy soaker pads and fastened him in. Billy had remained passive all the way through the operation; he really was very scared of both his sister and the thought of what his mum would do when she got home.

He’d literally and figuratively made a mess of everything.

The resentment of being put back into a nappy was not augmented by his usual belligerence just the simple knowledge that there was no alternative and he’d played his hand very badly. He was so shattered and frightened his body shook as he unprotestingly let Lizzie pull the tapes tightly together, the thickness of the padding forcing his legs wide apart.

He wanted to accuse her. Blame her and mum for all that was happening to him but, now in the state he was in, it seemed such a stupid allegation.

Worried that he may well shit himself again Lizzie pulled up a pair of clear vinyl pants, but not content with only that thin layer of water-proofing, she then covered them with a pair of much thicker rubber ones she’d shop-lifted. These were roomier but gripped much tighter, their dull creamy colour offering no access, or exit, at all.

“There… just to be on the safe side… an extra level of protection.”

The new, firmer fortification clutched his waist and legs in a vice-like grip. Any thought of protest died on his lips as he was ordered to stay in bed, she didn’t want to bother about him whilst she had to attend to his filthy clothes and keep an eye on Dee-Dee.

Thoroughly rebuked, a weak and forlorn looking Billy settled under a thin sheet, the room was warm from the day’s heat and sun was still coming in through the window. Wearing only this ‘extra level of protection’, his clean, thick, secure padding offered some comfort from his recent experience.

Although his teeth were still chattering he wasn’t sure if this was from the cold water or his fever had gotten worse. He was just too weak to think properly. Eventually, totally exhausted, he slipped into a deep but troubled sleep.

#

Sandra Southall had a terrific morning. The negotiations at work had gone very well and resulted in the customer signing a rather lucrative contract for the firm. Not only had she brought in this particular client but by getting him to invest in the future of the company, it guaranteed the workforce’s livelihood for several years to come. Sandra received a huge cash bonus and promotion, all of which meant that the Southall family would no longer be worrying about their finances.

That was the good news.

Unfortunately, this also meant the workload increased, although now Sandra would at least be getting a reasonable salary for her efforts, it still meant she wasn’t able to give her kids the time and effort needed.

However, once those negotiations were complete and everything was signed off, yet before she launched herself with gusto into her new position, she decided it was time to give her attention over to her son – her lying, rule-breaking little boy.

For quite a while now Billy had been disruptive. Even before his father had been sent to prison he’d been a little sod to everyone. Sandra was exasperated by his lack of respect to her and his often nasty asides to his younger sister. Although he seemed scared of Elizabeth, he still tried to undermine her at every opportunity and be difficult over every request.
It was time to fix that attitude… permanently.

She didn’t want to appear vindictive but also didn’t want her son thinking he could do what he liked. As she was more and more convinced Billy was on the wrong trajectory she was determined he was not going to turn out like his father – he had to know there would be consequences for every decision made or action taken. It may be a terrible load to put on an eleven year-old but she’d been letting things slide for ages, now she had to do something.

After what the doctor had said about food poisoning not being the cause of his problem she realised that he’d been lying to her. This was nothing new but for some reason it incensed her more on this occasion. She’d hoped that with her being busy and their father in prison her children would somehow have pulled together and helped one and other, in fact the opposite happened.

She resented the fact her son showed little or no respect and seemed to delight in making difficulties. He’d never quite grasped that they were in dire straits, or that life would be nicer if they all got along. No, he was a belligerent, narcissistic young man who needed firm discipline before things got totally unmanageable.

It seemed that the occasional spanking had made little difference to his attitude. Often, after such an event, he’d be on his best behaviour but all too soon he reverted to form. It had been a short-term solution, and not a very good one, but now her work life had changed for the better, it was time to do the same for her wayward son. She worried she may have left this action too late.

However, his illness had made a change. Lizzie said that once he’d been put in nappies there was a remarkable lack of his usual insolence. She’d noticed herself that the usual defiance had subsided and the only thing that had changed was the fact he was now wearing a nappy. Sandra wondered if through those babying items his rehabilitation could start.

#

A few calls to the parents of his friends and the full picture quickly emerged. Only three boys were suffering from a similar ‘tummy bug’ as Billy and she knew these three to be his closest schoolmates. Having said that, under cross-examination his fellow pupils were content to let it be known it was all Billy’s fault because he was the one whose idea it was to go swimming.

She was a bit peeved (although maintained her politeness) that none of the other parents had thought to contact her but, since her husband had been incarcerated, Sandra had been kept at arms-length by almost everyone – sympathy or understanding not being part of this town’s motto.

However, she was thankful they were grudgingly able to fill her in but got the sense that because it was ‘Billy’s fault’ their kid was ill; by extension they blamed her as well.
Somehow she needed to change this opinion.

The bug that the boys caught had made them all very sick and as a result were all laid up in bed at home. The spontaneous ‘accidents’ had been so messy and spectacular that similar precautions were taken, namely, the wearing of thick absorbent protection. So, like Billy, the three boys were wrapped in thick nappies which their parents hoped would at least contain the messy impact of their bacterial infestation.

As it turned out, like Sandra, each parent had been fully sympathetic until the truth became known and it seemed that they were all in agreement, now their boy had to wear a nappy for ‘safety’ reasons… that was how they’d stay for a while at least.

Although the antibiotics the doctor prescribed would clear up their problem, constant full protection was deemed a suitable chastisement for their reckless disregard of the rules for visiting the canal.

It was unexpected that all the parents were of the same mind for punishing their errant child.

Now she knew the full account of why Billy was shitting himself, to say Sandra was irritated with him was an understatement. Although it was sad that the poor boy was going through such a messy and distressing business, it was self-inflicted.

The fact that he hadn’t admitted his involvement when he had the opportunity rankled more and more and it was in this frame of mind she set about coming up with a plan to teach him a lesson. A lesson he wouldn’t forget and know that any future disobedience would have serious penalties.

Before she went home from work that afternoon Sandra picked up the doctor’s prescription and did a little more, specialist shopping. Now, with the knowledge of cash in her bank account, she didn’t have to worry too much about money anymore, she was able to indulge her plan and Billy would be the main beneficiary from her retail excursion.

#

In just the few hours since his anal disaster and being put to bed, a fever had taken hold of Billy as he writhed in semiconscious pain. Had anyone been in his bedroom as he tossed and turned they would have heard the crinkle and rustling of his protection squeaking in protest as he thrashed around. His bladder shooting agonising pain along his throbbing cock as spurt after spurt of burning pee filled the thick padding.

He may have been asleep but his body and brain were actively making sure they left him broken and irrational. Strange dreams grabbed hold and sent him twisting in fear, pain and suffering. His teeth chattered together yet his temperature soared. Sweat poured from him and soaked his bed as much as if he’d pissed himself, which he continued to do.

Had anyone been watching they would have seen a boy possessed, whilst his slinky cushioned protection inflated and stretched under a seemingly never ending stream of piss. Billy was no longer in the real world as those nasty little microbes invaded and occupied every aspect of his body and he passed into a state of near delirium.

#

Sandra arrived home full of intent on teaching her son a lesson he wouldn’t forget. In her head she had planned that once his illness was under control and he was getting back to his confident self she would hit him with his punishment. However, that wasn’t to be because she was met at the door by a very anxious Lizzie who said she’d phoned for the doctor.

Whilst waiting for Dr Harper Lizzie brought her mother up to speed on the events of the day. She told her about the swearing, the disregard of her instructions, the bolshie attitude and the final disastrous outcome in Billy’s pants and how she’d checked in on him and his temperature was soaring.

Sandra took all this in as she tried to comfort her incapacitated son. He did look in a bad way but oddly enough, the protection that Lizzie had wrapped him in was working fine and made Billy appear more like a wriggling toddler than a possessed sixth grader.

The doctor arrived and after administering a powerful antibiotic gave the family instructions on how best to treat Billy. She was convinced that the virus would be kept under control with regular doses and that he’d soon be back to his usual self. She smiled as if offering a happy solution to his recovery but both Sandra and Lizzie felt a shiver run down their spines at the suggestion of his ‘normality’.

Meanwhile, the doctor suggested that hygiene was paramount and that if possible he should be kept in disposables and, when they were full… she didn’t need to finish off the sentence they were aware of what needed to be done and nodded their agreement. They needed to keep themselves clean to prevent the spread. She gave them a list of things to do and a further list of how the treatment should continue from there on.

Not too much food in one go, a little and often rather than all at once.

Keep him hydrated but avoid dairy products like milk.

After the diarrhoea he would need to rebalance his electrolyte intake, so further instruction was given there.

Sandra confirmed that, after she’d checked with other parents, Billy had been swimming in the canal so the doctor had been correct in her diagnosis.

She explained that for the next few days the family were going to be busy looking after Billy as he would be very weak and vulnerable to other infections. She emphasised again how important hygiene was until he was back to his robust self.

The doctor left to a calm and sleeping Billy. Meanwhile, the family had a little talk about what to do next.

Dee-Dee insisted that she should keep wearing her nappy as the incidents of the day had scared her into thinking that the same thing could happen to her and she’d mess her pants. Lizzie and her mother agreed that it seemed, for the time being at least, a reasonable precaution, which was a relief to the youngest.

Once plans had been made on how to look after Billy Sandra was able to share her good news about the promotion. She also had gifts for them; Dee-Dee got a doll she’d been hoping for whilst Lizzie got her own mobile phone – Billy would have to wait for his.

As the antibiotics began to fight those invading microbes, an unconscious Billy peed out more fluid filling his already saturated nappy. It was Lizzie who suggested that the best way to feed him whilst in that state was to use a baby’s bottle full of the electrolyte and let him suckle on it. Sandra wasn’t convinced but when Lizzie went ahead and tried it anyway, she had to admit to its success, Billy was automatically feeding so this became the way to get fluids into him.

#

Once the initial fuss had calmed down Elizabeth shook her head. “So all this is self-inflicted?”

A murmur of repressed anger escaped her lips, which was echoed by Sandra.

“Yes, the bloody fool brought this entire thing on himself and the fact that he didn’t admit to it… well…”

She was a little lost for words.

For Lizzie it was a strange feeling. She’d wanted her annoying brother in nappies but wanted to be the cause of his embarrassment and not because he was just too stupid and had caused it himself. She felt cheated.

A hundred things were going through her mind at that moment but what she didn’t know was that similar thoughts were passing through her mother’s.

Later that night, as she was getting ready for bed, Dee-Dee was really insistent she should have similar thick protection like Billy. Although her mother said it wasn’t necessary the fear of something happening to her, and the sobbing that occurred until she was suitably encased, made for a strange new ritual. After witnessing the disaster in Billy’s pants she was simply terrified of messing her bed. Quite simply the baby of the family was terrified of having any more accidents.

Meanwhile, Billy had been changed into a thicker night time disposable and given a bottle containing the elements the doctor had advised for a full recovery, which he drowsily suckled on. Sandra was surprised to see how easily he took to it but his thirst needed quenching and as this was what was on offer, his automatic responses took over.

Once he’d emptied the bottle Lizzie took it away but replaced it with a dummy, which again she was pleased to see he sucked on with the ease he had the baby’s bottle.

Sandra came and stood next to her daughter looking down on the patient. Now he was resting she saw just how grown up her daughter was in making sure his bedding was straightened, he was tidy and how she checked to make sure he was still dry. The dummy seemed to settle him after the bottle so thought it must have been one of the many good ideas her eldest had.

They looked at each other and smiled.

Once more, when like this, a little angel emerged to take the place of Billy, it was only when he was awake and being a boy that he became such a pain.

His temperature was falling even if he was still more than a little out of it but there was obvious improvement. So, once these two operations were complete, getting the two youngest to bed, the two ‘women’ chatted about the last few days.

Sandra was still buzzing about the way her day at work had gone and now she had been promoted, hopefully things would get better… financially at least. Elizabeth was full of praise for her clever and hardworking mother and the mutual support was enmeshed with each appreciating the work of the other. Sandra didn’t like having to rely on Lizzie to the extent she did but her daughter never once complained, and for that, Sandra was eternally thankful.

Billy’s act of stupidity became the focus of their discussion and when Sandra explained that he wasn’t alone, his three best friends were also in the same position, they cheerily deliberated over what punishment would be suitable for the lot of them.

In amongst the easy banter a few ideas were voiced that Sandra had actually already considered, and when she found Lizzie in agreement smiled a knowing smile, whilst letting them develop in their own right.

In this cheerful, gossipy, confidential atmosphere it was agreed that there was something about Billy wearing a nappy that made him seem less troublesome, arrogant and more… normal. His bluster disappeared and that vulnerability his thick protection projected made his seem more a ‘loving’ little brother/son than the irritating brat he’d turned in to.

Enjoying this ‘girls only’ situation, and giggling like teenagers (even though only one of them was) they tried to outdo each other in one outrageous suggestion after another.

“No, no, no…” Lizzie laughingly interrupted one of her mother’s proposals, “he should be made to wear the nappy permanently. After all, he got himself into it… snicker … so… chuckle … it should be his reward until next school term.”

Of course this had been her plan since Billy’s first bedwetting incident and it had been going well so far, she really didn’t want it to stop. What was even better now Dee-Dee was a little paranoid about having a messy accident, it would be easier to keep them both under wraps, so to speak.

“We should take away all his clothes,” Lizzie continued jauntily as she made her proposal, “that way he couldn’t wear what he wanted… only… giggle… what he was given.”
Sandra confided that one of the things she’d given serious thought to was that her darling son would indeed be confined to nappies for some time, even to the extent she’d already bought further nappies and a set of thick plastic pants, which she intended would be his daywear. This was to be the present he received to mark his mother’s promotion… and an indication of how annoyed she was with him and this entire fiasco.

Now both were of a similar mind Lizzie was happy to go along and encourage her mother in her plan, even insisting that not only did he deserve it but as a punishment for the fear he’d induced in Dee-Dee. Lizzie was adamant that he had to pay for his reckless behaviour and all the trouble and upset he’d caused so added, as if to emphasise the point, she would include his mates in the punishment as well.

Sandra didn’t realise that Lizzie’s enthusiasm for such a punishment for Billy was already something she had envisioned on her own. However, the thought of his mates joining him in such a punishment got her mind thinking in a slightly different way and wondered if the other parents might share her ‘initiatives’.

This story is written by Les Lea

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.

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

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Messy morning

Messy morning

Kohaku wants going potty in his bed

Kohaku belongs to thehidden

Draw and text by ConejoBlanco

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/28296543/

To me it looks like Kohaku wants to go back to be wearing diapers again. Special now when he decide to do something like this. I dont think his mommy is going to like this when she found out what he has done.

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Roadtrip Blowout!

Roadtrip Blowout!

Out on the road and Ian really had to poop. The grownup said surely he can wait – he’s an older kid. Watching stop after stop go by, Ian’s tummy churned and growled until it wasn’t his tummy that hurt anymore, and finally he just couldn’t keep it in. After a little came out, he gave in to the need and lifted his legs up, pushing and not hold anything back. That’ll teach the grownups for thinking he could hold it for the rest of the journey!

The poor kitty and text belongs to Ian-Roberts

Draw by shingekiskunk

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/27917656/

At least he is not going to complain about that he needs to poop now. And it sure most feel kind of nice that his tummy have calm down now.

But now the grown up sure have allot of cleaning to do now.

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The baby business part 7

Copyright (c) 1995 by Babydoc.

During the first few minutes, Doug tried to get a little more comfortable. His hands being tied above his head was innately uncomfortable, and he faced an unenviable choice between trying to hold his arms up on his own, which, he found, led to muscle cramps within five minutes, or letting his hands stay limp, which rested his arm muscles a little but chaffed at his wrists and cut off his circulation. In addition, his arms being elevated put added weight on the bony part of the pelvis on which he was sitting, making this extremely uncomfortable against the unforgiving porcelain of the tub. He tried to shift his weight, but his jeans were tied to the faucet behind him, and this prevented him from moving enough to get really comfortable. The pillow in his back also wasn’t doing a good enough job on his back; it was starting to ache already. This test would certainly challenge his endurance, he thought, though not in the way Mrs. Warren anticipated.

He was trying to distract himself by thinking of other things when, scarcely 25 minutes into his three hour incarceration, he felt his bladder twinge a little, indicating its apparent fullness. This mostly just disappointed him, because he knew it would be a while before he could relieve himself, and that meant two and a half hours of relative discomfort on top of what he was already feeling in his arms, rear end, and back. But he’d held out for far longer than that in the past, (on long trips, for example) so he wasn’t worried about it, per se. Since he hadn’t had a lot to drink this morning, it shouldn’t get any worse.

Ten minutes later, though, it did get worse. He started to feel a lot of pressure, and tried to move again in an effort to make it less evident. But of course, he still couldn’t move. Doug smiled, feeling chagrinned. It looked like it WOULD in fact be a little test to endure this kind of bladder discomfort for another two and a half hours. He tried to figure out why he was having so much trouble, and could only point to a combination of the beer he had had last night and the Gatorade this morning. Weird. Oh, well. He’d just have to put up with it.

But fifteen minutes later found Doug about ready to burst. He swore and groaned, confused about how the beer from last night could still be affecting him. He had to concentrate now not to relax his bladder’s sphincter, which would be a disaster of epic proportion. He thought about how ironic it was that it was turning out to be so difficult to stay dry. This was certainly worse than any bladder fullness he’d ever experienced, and it was quite a shame it had to happen today.

As he hit one hour into his test, Doug was wondering how he’d find the strength to last the whole three hours. Suddenly he heard his abdomen gurgle. As he gritted his teeth against the tide of urine inside him, he attributed the grumbling to his lack of food today. Oh, well, he thought, too bad: his hunger would have to wait. Then he heard and felt more gurgles, which was followed by the abrupt onset of cramps. It took his breath away, and he fought to hold his bladder and withstand the pain at the same time. This wasn’t hunger.

The pain subsided, but the gurgling continued and became nearly constant, and within two minutes, Doug was surprised by an overwhelming sensation of fullness in his rectum. It begged for immediate release, but Doug quickly clamped down with all his strength, and his sphincter survived the initial onslaught. He was, however, shocked at the abruptness of the urge, and at its strength, and as he tightened his bottom and bladder muscles as much as he could, he wondered what the hell was going on. He must be sick. Why did it have to happen now?

His bowel cramps went away for a moment but were soon back with a vengeance. He felt severe abdominal pain and heard the gurgling continue, and battled the strong urge he had to relieve himself. He was now sure he was sick with something, and as he attempted to resist the beckoning call of nature, he started to get a foreboding feeling that it wouldn’t be possible to last another hour and forty-five minutes of this torture.

Doug considered the options he had. He thought about appealing to the little black box sitting on the toilet in front of him. Surely he wasn’t suppposed to be sick for this test: that wasn’t fair. Maybe Mrs. Warren would come back and let him out, and they could do this all over again some other time. But then he thought, how would he convince her he was really sick? As far as she knew, this impending inability to stay clean and dry might be typical for him, and this just represented an attempt to get out of wearing the diapers that she thought he needed. Anyway, she didn’t seem like the kind of lady who would bargain with him or entertain excuses. So he reluctantly had to dismiss that option.

He groaned again and again as he applied all the energy he could to maintain his continence. He had two other options, one of which was unthinkable. Either he could try to hold out, or he could give in to the strongest urges he had ever experienced. As difficult as it would be, he HAD to try to hold on, because he couldn’t imagine her coming back to find him wet and messy in this tub. The humiliation would be too great, not to mention the consequences…

And then it happened. It was at one hour, thirty-five minutes in. He was tiring of fighting, and the cramps had gone away briefly, so he had relaxed slightly, only to feel what he thought may have been a little squirt escape from his bottom and soak into his underpants. He wasn’t sure, though. For that to have happened would simply be impossible, and the consequences too dire. It must have been a mistake. Just to check, he shifted weight to see if his underpants felt wet or squishy. As he did so, he felt another little squirt escape his anal sphincter, and then his underpants felt undeniably wet.

When he first felt that sensation, he caught his breath. In fact, his whole sense of time slowed down. His world froze as he focused all his attention on confirming the damp sensation between his legs. He didn’t want to believe it, but even as he hoped he hadn’t done what he thought he’d done, he felt more effluent emerging from his tortured bottom. He resumed breathing, this time more quickly, in a panic. This couldn’t be happening. It was unthinkable. And yet his underpants were certainly wet, and now felt a little full as well. And then, in another moment, the smell from his actions caught up with his nose as well.

No doubt, now. For the first time since he was about three or four, he’d accidently soiled his pants. Not much, of course, but he could surmise the consequences of even the slightest accident. Surely his underpants were clearly stained, and Mrs. Warren would see, and say he was incontinent, and then…. For the first time, he began to ponder what failing this test might mean.

And he had to face the fact that he had failed it. Even now, as he continued to struggle against his bowels and bladder, even now it was over. It wasn’t fair, of course, for this wasn’t a representative three hours for him. He was sick, or still hung over, or something. It wasn’t fair, and he ought to get another chance. But he bet he knew what Mrs. Warren would say. He’d taken his shot, and had somehow blown it. Somehow he had failed his “continence test.” He repeated this inside his head as he groaned with the continuing pain. He couldn’t believe it.

He glanced at the clock, which showed that he still had another hour and twenty minutes left. Now his choice of what to do seemed less clear. Why, if he had already failed the test, should he be tortured with this pain and discomfort for the rest of the time? Trying to limit the damage did nothing for his situation. And perhaps, he thought in the desperate musings of a man in severe pain, if he gave in and relieved himself fully, she would come back and see that it wasn’t just a little leak, that he was in fact ill. Maybe that was his only chance.

Only another minute passed before he decided to spend the next hour and a half in relative comfort. It certainly wouldn’t take much to make him feel better, just a little relaxation, and then she’d see it was all a mistake…

He lifted himself up on one hip and relaxed his sphincter a little, only to be truly shocked at the force with which his bowels exploded. With nowhere to go, his watery bowel movement shot down his pants legs and up his back. It felt so good not to hold it any more that he started pushing when the flow slowed down. He pushed as hard as he could, and was gratified by how much better his bowels felt. When that discomfort had subsided, it made the pain from his bladder seem even worse, and he took a minute to think about whether there was any point to trying to fight that urge as well. After all, his poop was so watery, it had soaked his pants anyway: what could peeing hurt? She’d probably never know about that, for most would go down the drain or evaporate. So he relaxed his bladder as well, and a wonderful feeling of relief came over him. Unfortunately, somehow the way his penis happened to be positioned turned the onslaught of urine not down his crotch, but up into his lap, which had been the only dry spot remaining on his jeans. He looked down and realized there was no way he could pass off the dark stain in his lap as anything other than having wet himself.

He lowered himself back down to the tub surface and felt a warm squish envelope his bottom, crotch, and most of each leg. What a mess. It didn’t feel particularly bad immediately, but over the next few minutes, as his mess cooled off, he realized that he wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as he’d thought. In fact, he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t worse now. He wiggled his legs helplessly. He wanted to change now. He’d traded one discomfort for another, and the bad part was, this discomfort would be way more embarrassing when Mrs. Warren returned. It felt horrible, it clearly looked bad, and it was beginning to smell pretty strongly, too.

But he’d done it, and now, he told himself, he had to sit in it. What was worse was that every few minutes he’d discover the need to expel more effluent into his pants. At this point, he didn’t even think about it, though. He couldn’t really make things worse. So every five minutes or so he eased himself up and pushed more poop and pee out into his wet, brown, full underpants.

And in between his repeated soilings and wettings he had plenty of time to consider how embarrassed he’d be when Mrs. Warren came back and saw him in this state. Before, when he had done it on purpose, no one ever saw him. How humiliating to have had any accident, but especially one of this magnitude! And as he sat there in his wet mess he became more sure that she’d never let him try again. She’d been right all along, she’d think: he clearly need diapers.

And as he grunted and relieved himself once more, he wondered briefly if she was right.

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.

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Babyfur Comic: expected punishment page 2

Babyfur Comic: expected punishment page 2Characters and draw by ConejoBlanco

comissioned by ClayMongoose

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/24138361/

This sure is one way to solve the problem when the potty is occupied :)

At least she is back into diapers now :)

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Some U.S. Poultry Workers Is Force To Wear Adult Diapers on the Job

Workers in plants run by the largest U.S. poultry producers are regularly being denied bathroom breaks and as a result some are reduced to wearing diapers while working on the processing line, Oxfam America said in a report Wednesday. The worker that dont have decide to wear diapers Some workers “restrict intake of liquids and fluids to dangerous degrees,” Oxfam said. some of the worker have even ended up whit wetting and messy there pants because they could not hold it back any longer.

This dont sounds so nice to be force to work whit messy and wet pants because you dont is allow to have a potty break.

You can read more about it here:

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There’s an app for that 11

There's an app for that 11

Order by centzon

Draw by catmonkshiro

Source: http://www.furaffinity.net/view/18288167

Yes it sure looks like it can be a good ide to always be diaperd when you visiting this special club. Special when someone decide to use his special gun.

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