Some Alone Time, Part 4 (Patreon)

“Two outs, bottom of the seventh. You got runners on first and third, and...” The big shepherd sat his diapered butt down on the cushions of the couch, then rolled out to lay partially on his back, legs tucked, knees open wide, and his bottle held in both hands in his mouth. “Where you goin' with this ball, Chet?”

“Play's at first, dumbass...” He mumbled to himself, around the nipple of the bottle tucked securely into his mouth, almost losing a bit of beer down the long part of his muzzle.

Look at you, can barely hold a bottle by yourself. Maybe you need somebody to hold it for you...

It was an intrusive thought, and one that made him groan and press his hips upward, thrusting his semi-hard shaft into the soft diaper pressed snugly against him. He was having a hard time keeping himself under control.

Instead, he tried to focus a little more on the game. It was his team, after all; the one that his son wanted to play for when he realized his pro baseball dreams. Close game too. And the security of the diaper and the rhythmic sucking on his bottle actually helped him to settle down when he wasn't paying so much attention to them.

It was the ninth inning before he knew it, and his bottle was most of the way empty. He had barely started contemplating another beer before a familiar urge downstairs got his attention. So trained at being an adult, the dog almost got up to make a quick stop at the bathroom before a grin spread around his slightly pinkish muzzle.

You're wearing your bathroom, big guy.

Loosened slightly by a beer and the heady sensations of indulging his favorite secret, the dog rolled completely onto his back and closed his eyes. Breathing in, then out, he felt warmth spread between his legs as he satisfied the natural urge, wetting himself like a lazy puppy, instead of taking the few steps to use the restroom like an adult. His diaper crackled subtly as it expanded with wetness, the warmth spreading under him, and up the curve of his butt as he relieved himself.

His diaper was wet. It was warm and heavy against the daddy dog, and it was obvious from both the sight, and the sound that he needed to be changed. The game had ended at some point while he was wetting up the seat of his diaper, but he wasn't even concerned with who won at that moment.

It was getting harder and harder to hold himself back.