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Critiques and Writer's Discussion
For more in-depth critiques of stories and story writing discussion.
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To insert the Catheter i lay on the back. A little up my body like on a chair by the Urologie. Than you stretch your penis to the ceeling to insert the Catheter to the point that goes into your body. At this point you stretch your penis to your feets with the pusher and make you like you must piss. So you relax the muskle around the ureta and the catheter easyer flush in. You feel it when the tip arrived the bladder. -
I would buy diapers anyway (1987-1999). I'd use one and then get all self conscius and throw them away. I'll cover from 2019. I was 44. It was comforting. Sleeping diapered was the most restful. My best friend had moved overseas in 2017 and I started struggling to breathe at night. I slept with a pacifier from 2017 to 2021. I still can't wet while sleeping, but can wet and then go to sleep. Its a step up. I couldn't sleep at first. I've never felt, someone called it horny (I hate the term) in a diaper. I love the feel of being wet. I can stay in the same diaper for 5 hours, but after much longer, gravity starts to clump everything into just a wet spot. It might take a while to find the right diaper depending on whats important to you. I need to be able to see that I've wet (see pictures Alpha Clin Premium Timelapse). I need to feel wet until I choose to change. I try to avoid rash (this diaper works well for that). I don't like pullups etxæc. -
Here is the next Chapter: Chapter 2: Learning to Love the Warmth Linda came over on a quiet Thursday afternoon while David was still at the office. She and Carolyn sat at the kitchen island with herbal tea, speaking in low, conspiratorial voices. “The trick,” Linda explained, “is to wire his pleasure directly to the diaper itself. Every morning he wakes up wet and ashamed. That shame is fertile ground. You give him the only orgasm he’s allowed, and you give it to him while he’s soaked. After a week the association will be ironclad. The wetter the diaper, the harder he’ll get. The diaper becomes the source of his relief, not you. That’s when the real power shift happens.” Carolyn’s cheeks flushed with something between excitement and cruelty. “And he’ll never suspect?” “He’ll think it’s his idea. Men like David always do.” David had always prided himself on his control. As a senior partner, he commanded courtrooms with a baritone that made witnesses squirm and juries nod. He was the guy who closed deals over bourbon, the one who never backed down from a fight. Bedwetting? That was for weaklings, not him. But after four nights of waking to soaked sheets, his ego was cracking. He’d hidden the evidence, scrubbed himself raw, and rationalized it as stress. Deep down, though, a seed of doubt had taken root: What if I’m losing it? What if I’m not the man I think I am? Friday morning was the first test. David’s alarm never went off; Carolyn had silenced it the night before. At seven-fifteen he stirred, felt the familiar heavy sag between his legs, and froze. The room was bright. Carolyn was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching him with soft, affectionate eyes. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she murmured, sliding her hand under the covers. David’s breath caught as her palm settled on the swollen front of his overnight diaper. The padding was hot, squishy, and reeked faintly of urine and baby powder. He started to pull away—instinct, pride—but her fingers pressed gently, possessively. “Shhh. Poor baby was all wet again. Let Mommy take care of that little problem for you.” The word Mommy hit him like a gut punch, but his traitorous cock was already stiffening against the sodden gel. Carolyn began a slow, deliberate massage—squeezing the thick padding around him, rubbing in lazy circles. The slick warmth squelched with every stroke. David groaned, half in horror, half in helpless pleasure. “Carolyn, I—this is disgusting, I’m literally lying in my own—” “You’re safe,” she whispered, cutting him off. “You’re home. You’re mine. Just let go.” She worked him mercilessly slowly, dragging it out until his hips twitched involuntarily. The diaper made obscene wet noises. Every time he tried to form a protest, she tightened her grip and cooed, “Good babies don’t fight their morning relief.” He came with a strangled cry, pulsing hard into the already-soaked padding. The fresh warmth spread against his skin and he shuddered with shame so complete it felt like ecstasy. Afterward he lay panting, staring at the ceiling while Carolyn kissed his forehead like he was five years old. The routine locked in over the next six mornings. Alarm off. Hand on diaper. Slow, humiliating hand job through layers of swollen, urine-heavy gel. Each orgasm left him more dazed, more grateful, more convinced that the only place he was allowed to feel like a man anymore was inside his own piss. But with each day, the hypnosis worked deeper, chipping away at his resistance. At work, during depositions, he’d shift in his chair and remember the crinkle of the diaper, the soft bulk hugging his groin. It was humiliating, but... there was something else. A comfort? No, that couldn’t be right. He was David, the shark lawyer, not some pervert who liked the feel of plastic against his skin. Yet in quiet moments, he caught himself pressing a hand to his crotch under the desk, savoring the faint rustle, the padded security. It’s just practical, he told himself. Until this bedwetting stops. But the thought of going without made him anxious, like stepping out without pants. Then came the Wednesday when Carolyn simply rolled over and reached for her phone. David woke wet, erect, and waiting. Minutes crawled by. Nothing. The ache in his groin became a throb. He shifted, making the diaper crinkle loudly, hoping she’d notice.he scrolled, smiling at something on the screen. Finally, he couldn’t stand it. “Carolyn?” “Mmm?” “I… I need…” His voice cracked. Pride warred with the compulsion—I’m not begging like some child. I’m the man of this house. But the need burned hotter, the hypnosis pulling strings he couldn’t see. “Need what, honey?” He swallowed. The words felt like gravel, his ego screaming in protest. Don’t say it. You’re not this weak. But the craving won. “I need you to… take care of me. Like you have been.” She lowered the phone, all innocent concern. “Take care of you how?” His face burned so hot he thought he’d combust. “Please. Touch me. In the diaper. Please stroke my… my cock through the wet diaper until I cum. I need it so bad.” Carolyn let him dangle for a long, merciless moment. “Only because you asked so nicely, baby.” That night Linda returned. David was dozing on the couch after too much bourbon when she leaned over him. “Lawyer’s rest.” His head lolled instantly. Linda’s voice was silk. “David, you love wearing diapers. You feel safe and happy in them. Tomorrow is Saturday. After Carolyn finishes your morning relief in your soaked diaper, you will feel an overwhelming need to stay protected all day. You will ask—no, you will beg—her to change you into a fresh diaper and keep you in diapers for the entire weekend. If she hesitates, you will tell her you deserve to be punished for being a pathetic baby instead of a real man. You will beg until she agrees. And you will feel deep relief when she does.” Snap. Saturday morning arrived. Carolyn brought him to a shuddering, humiliating orgasm in his overnight diaper, cooing the entire time about what a good little boy he was. When the last spurt soaked into the padding, David’s mouth opened before his brain could stop it. “Carolyn… please don’t take it off yet.” She raised an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, you have to shower and—” “No, I mean… put me in another one. Keep me in diapers all weekend.” The words tumbled out in a rush, his ego recoiling even as he spoke. What the hell am I saying? She’ll think I’m some freak who wants this. But the hypnosis amplified the pull—the memory of the soft crinkle, the secure hug around his waist, the way it muffled everything else. He didn’t want to wet them during the day, not really; the idea of having his wife see him do that was still mortifying. But the feel... God, the feel was addictive, like a secret armor against the world. Carolyn folded her arms, pretending reluctance. “Honey, that’s extreme. One thing at a time—” “I’m begging you.” His voice cracked; tears pricked his eyes from pure mortification and need. “Think of it as punishment. I’m pathetic. I piss the bed every night. Real men don’t do that. Babies do that. Please, Carolyn, keep me in diapers all weekend so I remember what I am.” Stop talking, you idiot, his mind screamed. She’ll think you’re a pervert. But the words kept coming, the compulsion overriding his pride. Deep down, a small voice admitted the truth: he liked the way they felt. The bulk, the noise, the helplessness—it was wrong, twisted, but it stirred something in him. She let the silence stretch until he was trembling. “Maybe it will help me stop wetting the bed at night.” He said in a last ditch attempt to persuade her. Finally, she sighed, as if conceding. “All right. If you’re sure that’s what you really want.” The rest of the day he waddled around the house in thick, crinkling protection under his sweatpants. Carolyn checked his diaper twice—once after lunch, once before dinner—At night she changed him into his night time diaper, powdering him slowly, taping him snug, kissing his forehead like he was helpless. He stayed dry during the day. No accidents. Which meant no morning-style “relief” either. On Sunday he sat on the couch watching college football, diaper rustling with every shift. He, and caught himself actually considering letting go on purpose—just a little, just enough to feel that swollen warmth again and maybe, maybe, earn another slow, shameful hand job. He clenched everything and resisted. For now. -
By DLBabybaby · Posted
Hi, are you still around? I'd love a play date after a chat... -
Well, it has been a little more than six months since I asked the Mexico clinic whether they still offer the bowel incontinence surgery, and was told that surgeon retired and they have not found a replacement. I emailed today and asked if they can offer the procedure now, or if Dr. Ivan would even perform it. I hope to hear back from them tomorrow.
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