![[DD] Boards & Chat](https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/uploads/monthly_2021_11/DDweb-02.png.0c06f38ea7c6e581d61ce22dffdea106.png)
 |
Baby Talk
Let your baby side show.
1,633 topics in this forum
-
- 0 replies
- 12.9k views
-
- 6 replies
- 377 views
-
- 7 replies
- 539 views
-
- 37 replies
- 9k views
-
- 304 replies
- 45.7k views
-
- 58 replies
- 11.2k views
-
- 69 replies
- 10k views
-
- 5 replies
- 317 views
-
- 56 replies
- 4k views
-
- 4 replies
- 866 views
-
- 0 replies
- 271 views
-
- 0 replies
- 243 views
-
- 32 replies
- 4.6k views
-
- 37 replies
- 6.2k views
-
- 26 replies
- 2.7k views
-
- 4 replies
- 400 views
-
- 6 replies
- 377 views
-
- 3 replies
- 246 views
-
- 0 replies
- 208 views
-
- 1 reply
- 261 views
-
- 1 reply
- 341 views
-
- 6 replies
- 349 views
-
- 0 replies
- 198 views
-
- 6 replies
- 1k views
-
- 15 replies
- 1.1k views
-
Current Donation Goals
-
-
-
Posts
-
By Baby Jemma · Posted
Well, here's my take on a Western babyfur story (one that @Horatio Husky did something similar with, except I'm doing mine differently): Desert Fountain! Now as a bit of content warning: there's a bit of body horror (in that some animals' body parts are used as trophies for a sadistic sheriff/judge and age regression to babyhood while still being aware), so yeah, that's a thing. But if you're curious enough to read a Western babyfur story as well as Horatio's wonderful work, welcome to this story: - Chapter One: Bloodblaze Town at the Sunset - Locals to the region said that the westernmost town of Bloodblaze had the most beautiful sunsets in the whole of the West - and they would’ve been right, with crimson, scarlet, gold, harvest moon, burnt orange, and all of the prettiest colors on the warm color scheme dancing in the few clouds in that gorgeous sunset. Dakota, known to her friends as “Kota” and her enemies as “The Brazen Bitch of the West”, was gazing at that sunset, waiting for the time to strike at night…for the coyote was a notorious outlaw who had grown up around the region outside of that safe little town, made her living in the so-called “Outskirts”. The Outskirts. A fun little part of the part where the West ended in the midst of a complete desert, where literal monsters roamed, and no one other than outlaws, the Jiingo Tł’é’na’áí Gahe tribe (West Moon Dancers, for easy translation), and the most desperate or foolhardy animals made their living out there, considering how dangerous it was. Not that many of them (the West Moon Dancers, aside) survived more than one night at most without a shelter - and no, tents did not count. She whistled a small tune to herself to occupy her thoughts as she counted the minutes down on her brass pocket watch, all the way down to nightfall. No offense meant to the few townspeople (very few people actually stayed at Bloodblaze because there was nothing really…well, notable other than the sunsets, and Dakota felt that once you saw one sunset, you saw them all, and with the Outskirts as dangerous as they were to both people there and the town itself, you quickly wished for morning light after the sunset ended or you died. One of the two.), but she and her band needed food and water, and the damnable sheriff/judge was notoriously corrupt and not prone to sharing his food and water with anyone, least of all outlaws. He lived like a king with his own private army and left everyone else to suffer. The coyote would’ve gladly met with the town deputy, Washington, to make a deal. The cougar was a friendly enough sort, even to outlaws, so long as they behaved in the town and didn’t cause a ruckus, but the damned sheriff/judge’s laws, from what little she overheard whilst sneaking into the town on occasion (with a damned good disguise) were getting even more draconic, and everyone, Wash included, was too scared to complain. It wasn’t like any of those poor creatures had much of a choice; the sheriff/judge was known as a “hanging judge” for a reason. She curled her lip, her tail instinctively lashing from side to side while she thought about the poor bastards with their skulls, ribs, and hides decorating his office. She had been there once. Never again. Never, ever again. That koala was as monstrous as any of the monsters in the Outskirts, if not more, and she knew what was out there…even if she couldn’t put a proper name or face to any of those beings. That damned judge/sheriff/whatever was the reason she and her gang had been forced into the desperado lifestyle - and she refused to let the animals under her starve. Dakota’s loyal steed, a black Clydesdale colt named Bartolomeo, nickered a bit under her reins, and she stroked his neck. “Shh, it’s okay, boy,” she whispered from the bandana covering her mouth, her ears flicking from either side of her cowgirl hat, trying to calm her steed down. “Easy, Meo, easy.” The Clydesdale snorted a bit, maybe a bit of displeasure with the quickly dropping temperatures (which sent a chill racing down her fur that not even the patchcoat duster and thick clothes she always wore could prevent), but he quickly calmed under the coyote’s gentle strokes. She was alone for now, her turn to go on the twice-weekly supply run. She had to be alone; better for only one of the band to risk themselves on a supply run than more of the group getting caught, and one outlaw sneaking into town under the cover of night was more inconspicuous than the whole group of eleven. Night came, the sunset disappearing over the hills, plunging the entire town into sheer darkness that not even candlelight could penetrate. Dakota nudged Bartolomeo’s sides with her boots, and the Clydesdale trotted until he was in the town. Then she snuck in under the dark cover, trusting her Clydesdale colt to stay where he was. She could feel the sheer crushing pressure this town was under as she went to the warehouse. The door was locked, naturally, but her handy lockpick got her in with ease. The warehouse was bursting at the seams with supplies, as the coyote outlaw sifted through the food and water, having done this once every week (as she was the leader, she figured that she had to lead by example and do everything for her band of fellow outlaws and more) without fail. Dakota put the food and the water satchels on the packs of her steed. She should’ve noticed that there was a trap set for her. The private army of the sheriff/judge was quickly surrounding the coyote and her steed. She leapt on Bartolomeo, who was already moving, but someone pulled her off before she could get away with the horse, who was dashing off without her out of town, panicking out of instinct. She fought, bit, and scratched with all of her might, her tail lashing from side to side, until she was pinned by the numerous army members, quickly trussed up with her front paws bound behind her, her legs and tail tied together, and a muzzle put on her mouth, so she couldn’t even scream out curses, still wriggling desperately to get out. Then the kangaroo head of the army - a sadist known as Nebraska, Neb for short - stepped on her neck, crushing any chance of her breathing, as he sneered in her ear, “I’ll get you to Kansas, and we’ll see what he wants to do with you, you fucking outlaw thief.” Dakota snarled, still trying to fight; dying quickly now - even if her skull, ribs, and hide ended up decorating the koala’s office - was better than whatever the bastard must’ve planned for her for being an outlaw stealing. “Stop squirming; you’re not gonna die,” Neb said cheerfully. “Not yet, at least. If it were me, I’d fucking blow your brains out here and now, but Kansas said he’s got plans for you stealing. Then he’s gonna kill your fucking merry band of thieves.” Dakota whined behind the muzzle. She couldn’t have her band, her friends, die for her. She desperately tried to breathe; between the kangaroo putting his foot on her neck and the muzzle on her snout, it was getting hard to breathe. Then the head of the army lifted his foot off of her as he hefted her over his left shoulder as easily as one would heft a sack, carrying the coyote outlaw to the sheriff’s office. She hated that place; there were seemingly even more skulls, ribs, and hides than she remembered. The ribs had been made into windchimes that rattled in the breeze outside of the window, the hides decorated the floor, the skulls put on the wall as trophies. And in all of that, the koala slouched in his rocking chair, a friendly smile on his face. Dakota knew that that smile meant that someone was going to die painfully - namely her. He stood up on his short legs, waddling over to her to pinch her cheek until his claws drew blood. “Well, my dear outlaw, aren’t you a cutiepie?” he cooed as if he was talking to a baby. “I know you and your band of outlaws have been stealing from me. I know how to draw them out; they consider you their friend, and I’ll use that to my advantage. But what am I going to do with you?” Dakota breathed through the muzzle in terror. Torture was almost certainly going to happen. Pain beyond imagining. Then she’d die, and all of her would just be another decoration in his office. “Well, don’t worry; your band, I’ll make trophies out of, but you, my little outlaw…well, I have a surprise for you, personally. Neb!” The kangaroo saluted. “Take her to the underground fountain!” The coyote was confused. A fountain? What the hell was going on? “You sure about that, boss?” Neb asked tentatively. “Normally, you’re the only one who bathes there…” “And I will soon enough, but she’ll get the full dosage.” The koala was grinning widely, and somehow, it was a thousand times scarier than his smile. “Bring her there. I’ll dunk her in personally. Now put her to sleep.” “Yes, boss!” Nebraska set her on the hard floor of the office, stomped on her head, and she knew no more. - Hope y'all enjoyed~ -
By PeterLupus · Posted
Yes, it's actually fairly easy and quick to self-cath. You just have to learn how to keep things clean so that you don't cause UTIs. But I am learning how to 'flush out my UTIs'. My recent challenge with not being able to self-cath must have been related to an injury or false passage. I have since learned the right angle to use for my Coude 16 Fr single use catheter, and no more blood. Of course, that's why I self-cath. And yes, I am more than ever considering the surgery. Getting bladder botox was a diagnostic step to take in that direction. -
By Snugglebear_69 · Posted
Sounds like a reason to go to a trained medical professional vs asking random people online. -
By Pierry Louys · Posted
Awww so cute !! ps question what is jack size and weight my bet he is 140cm and weight 30kg -
I have to say that I don’t think i’ve seen this type of story before. Super interesting.
-
-
