Some Alone Time, Part 17 (Patreon)

“Ngh, fuck…” 

The dog growled to himself through clenched teeth, eyes squeezed shut, a much more grown-up exclamation than the teasing voice of his imagination chiding him for having that kind of accident at his age.

He looked at himself in the mirror again, and this time he couldn’t take his eyes off of the reflection; the heavy diaper clinging to his hips, the way it forced him to stand with his legs slightly spread and his hips back, the visible weight in the seat, strained down just slightly under his tail, and even his hand hovering near his muzzle, like he wanted to put his thumb in his mouth for comfort.

The tell-tale look of an oversized puppy with a loaded diaper.

Gingerly, he tugged up on his waistband, feeling his warm, swollen diaper drag over his shaft and pull snug against his balls. He was achingly hard, still unable to look away from the mirror, transfixed by the image of himself in an obviously full diaper.

Might as well enjoy it before your diaper change, big boy.

Curling his toes against the tile, he felt over the front of his diaper again, the soft plastic once more warm and squishy to the touch, and wrapped it around his shaft to give it another squeeze. 

“Ffffuck…!”

He almost lost it again, but this time he was too eager. The big shepherd leaned back and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet, flat on the seat of his messy diaper. 

I guess you’re not big enough for that yet, but you can practice. Maybe we’ll try to potty train you again in a couple of months.

He groaned and leaned his head back, arching his shoulders and tugging the front of his diaper down enough to wrap his hand around his dick. It throbbed, achingly hard, in his grip, and he could feel wetness from the tip dribbling down his knuckles as he squeezed and pulled. The night’s events were all swirling together in his mind: sneaking himself into a diaper, drinking from a baby bottle and watching the game, wetting himself and falling asleep on the couch, squatting down inches from the toilet for a messy diaper…

And being caught. By his wife. With his wet diaper showing over his pants.

… You get yourself cleaned up, handsome.

Fat chance of that. The memory of that teasing comment, once more delivered in his wife’s most flirtatious voice, was enough to push the big dog over the edge. He gritted his teeth and growled, legs sticking out in front of him and back pushed against the tank of the toilet that he was apparently too much of a baby to use. The high hit him hard enough to make his shoulders seize up, and he sucked in a breath and held it that way as he erupted in a rush.

Sitting in his full diaper, crinkling and panting fortunately masked by the roar of the shower, the daddy dog clenched his jaw as he came, painting his chest and his stomach with the evidence of his babyish desires.

When the waves of pleasure finally passed, leaving him drained, sticky and exhausted, the shepherd collapsed in a heap, leaned slightly against the side of the sink, and open-mouth panted to try and catch his breath. 

“Hope she didn’t hear that…” 

The dog mumbled sluggishly to himself, coming back to Earth and grimacing at the mess he made of himself. He needed to shower, get cleaned up, and smooth this mess over with his wife; he was convinced now that things could be salvaged. 

“Shit--!” He swore, nearly tipping forward onto his face when he tried to stand up.

But first, he needed to wait until his legs were working again.