FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Around them, the color and tone of the environment sank into quiet severity, the white stone of the main area faded into austere black, with straight accents of bright chrome. They braced themselves for cheap studded harnesses and "pig-hole stretcher" plugs, but once they landed on a shiny, marbled-obsidian floor, they were greeted by the imposing top half of a male spider statue. From his broad, muscular chest and its nipples hung oil lanterns. His mandible-like chelicerae were clamped around a ball gag made of pure tiger eye--the sphere easily as large as Kioga's head--and all eight eyes were blinded by black leather goggles with eight shutters. His six arms were bound in black leather stamped with stylized glyphs and connected by thick golden chains stretched tight.

All in all, this BDSM boutique was stoic and impressive. Kioga and Ceylon did not feel naughty as they looked upon the myriad of sexual implements, but rather felt solemnly religious.

Kioga seemed to become more animated at this, and squeezed Ceylon's paw tightly as he led him into the museum-like market. The previous stores, as nice as they were--and as lovely as that diaper change and intimate caretaking was on that advanced changing table--felt merely as they were, stores, albeit in a beautifully curated mall.

"It almost feels out of place," Kioga whispered to himself and his boyfriend, "putting something like this in the same building as those other fronts."

Ceylon couldn't help but blush at the mannequins they encountered further into this palace of commerce, noting they were all anatomically correct and transparent, so that the anal plugs, gags, and chastity cages were not hidden from view. Whatever the makeup of glass compound these statues had, they were crystal clear and tastefully lacked irrelevant internal organs--there were no bladders, uteruses, nor large intestines above the colon--and so they didn't look like they came from a biology classroom.

"Well, it is still a store," said the gryphon. His penis grew in his chastity cage just enough to put pressure on it, but it didn't have that sensual crackle of peckish arousal. Frankly, it was the same sort of relaxed relief as wetting his diaper: a completely natural feeling of opening up. "And I'd hate to think they're using pheromones in the ventilation."

"Hmm-mm," said Kioga against the theory. His free hand was pinching his chin into a cleft, and his eyes scanned the prosthetic penises on the shelves. The colors were that of luxury cars: gold, black, white, and red. "I'd liken this place to a church of restraints, or at the very least..."

"It is a sanctuary of limits," confidently said a deep, brassy voice. A spider looking quite like the giant statue out front swept into their view with a smile--or, at least what they could make of a smile from his fanged mouth. His chest was just as broad as the bust, though his muscular arms were behind his back by choice. He wore white leather with gold grommets: a strap crossed his chest to two shoulder mounts, and about his waist was a smooth diaper cover of the same material, secured by a gold buckle. "We wonder if the anthroid imagination is akin to liquid or air: without container," he said, gesturing with one of his right arms to the shelves of bikini thongs; straitjackets of leather, canvas, even silk; male chastity cages of many lovely metals; "of which we have many, what shape does our aspirations take? Here we demonstrate the heart and soul, the art and science, of sexual pneumatics and hydraulics. Harness," he said, snapping his shoulder strap, "your inner desire."

"Oh boy," said Ceylon, reaching over to tickle his boyfriend's stomach, "and if cats are liquid, like in those memes, then can we sublimate?"

The spider paused, and for lack of eyelids he craned his neck. "Of course; you do not think the Rapture told in Revelations was about getting stolen by some untold cloud UFO with gates made of pearl--which implies a gigantic oyster, now that I think about it. It is about the spirit transcending, about heating, exciting, the particles of imagination."

"And that's why it's steamy in here," punned Ceylon, which made Kioga groan but the spider chuckle.

"It's quite funny, comedy," mused the spider, "because it is a reflection on truth. Not that I'm here to lecture you until your next diaper change. But please, lean on my metaphor until your elbow goes numb, because we see the world through anthroid eyes, and therefore are able to connect everything back to ourselves." He extended two right hands, one to each of the felines. "I'm Argos Arachnos."

"Bit on the nose, isn't that?" asked Kioga, shaking one of Argos's hands. "I'm Kioga Davis; this is my partner Ceylon Vie."

"Pleasure, and do not worry. I'm Arthur in the Carcer Cafeterium," he added, then chuckled again. "Trust me; if grandiosity was the sky, I'd be telling Atlas to stand up. It's all in good fun."

"I actually do really like it, Argos," said Ceylon, "Because in your own words, and of course apparent gear, we harness our inner desire and we excite the particles of our imagination. Boiling water from the discovery of fire, leading to steam turbines ... you're saying that our technology enhances our life, and this does not exclude sexual aids--"

"Tools. It's what separates us from the animals," said the spider, proudly folding his six arms over his six-pack. Kioga appreciated the symmetry.

"Right. But are all these things needed?"

Argos smiled. "I would say there is quite an intermixing between need and want. Don't you need to make your life better, don't you need happiness?"

"Well, I would like those things ..."

"Excellent," Argos said, then made the same beckoning motion with all three hands on his right side. Kioga wondered why he wouldn't just use one, but then thought it was the same reason that all turn signals on the appropriate side of a car flash at the same time. The spider suddenly leapt up against one of the pillars and climbed the seemingly sheer black obelisk, scaling until he reached a segregation between the first and second floor of the store's atrium. Here was crafted a giant web of several braided fibers, which neither the four-limbed cheetah or six-limbed gryphon could see until Kioga cocked his head between Ceylon and the ceiling, and Ceylon took flight.

The gryphon hovered near the web, hesitating to touch it, but then saw the strange monstrosity of Argos's long, clawed toes as the spider walked upside-down on the tightrope by his legs alone.

"Can you hear me down there, Mister Davis?" Argos called out, and Kioga threw up a thumb. In his other paw came up his smartphone, and then with a snap! his smartphone was bound to his paw by a glob of web.

Kioga glared up at the spider, who was wiping his wrist. "I can't lecture you about everything, Mister Davis; no flash-photography in the Mercatio Munerum."

"And how do I remove this?" the cheetah groused.

"Spray bottle by the register."

"Ugh. But cool."

"And I don't want to lecture you all afternoon, either; I'm sure you're busy people and what is talk without action?" said Argos in a raised voice. While Kioga was cleaning his paw of spider-spooge, and dropping his phone as the material glopped off his fingers onto the floor, which he quickly bent down to clean with an adult wipe out of his bag, the cheetah's ear quirked to hear the slapping of sandaled feet.

Bob and Louise, dragon and dolphin from the Nor-Westerlies, had sauntered into the BDSM luxury dungeon and shoppes. "Oh hey guys!" Kioga said, still squatting over his mess.

"Oh hey, it's our favorite celebrity!" Bob said, waving a pudgy scaled paw.

Louise elbowed him. "He's only your favorite because he's the only one that will talk to you, Bobby. You talk about our neighbors to socialites and presidential candidates!"

"Well they have to have neighbors, too, don't they?"

The happy couple had discarded their Nor-Westerly wear--shorts in Wyoming--for a pair of very big onesies and the fluffy fringe of the happy disposable underneath. Everything was branded "Praetorian Guard" and "McKraken Special," and it was at least a little disconcerting to see Fred's cartoony otter-arctic fox face plastered across neon blue diaper bags and crotch-snap suits.

"Ah, so glad you could join us!" rained a deep, brassy voice from above.

"Oh, we're not sure we're into the kinky stuff," said Bob, taking out a telephoto camera as he looked around and blushed at a seemingly obsidian shelving unit that rose to the second floor, full of silicone implements meant for a multitude of organs, internal and external. "I've had my wife spank me for my birthday--"

"Robert!"

"But it's the good ol' vanilla sex for me. Best ice cream flavor, too, because it does everything."

Kioga had scrambled up to them and pushed the camera down. He saw, in the reflection of Bob's glasses, at least four arms aimed in their direction. "Don't," he whispered to the dragon, then helped him replace the camera back in their brand new "Fred Election!" diaper bag. The cartoon on its side was Fred in a President's suit jacket ... and American flag diaper.

There was a mighty whump behind Kioga, and with the rush of air came a rush of remnant fluids from the cheetah's bladder and bowel. He squirted, with a minor squick, both into his diaper as Argos landed right behind him from a fall of thirty feet.

"Ah, but vanilla is the base of everything," said the spider. "But I'll continue from webs. You are familiar with hippies, Mister and Mrs...?" he asked, extending two right hands.

Bob quickly grabbed and shook, and the spider's face became stiff, for lack of eyelids to widen. "Bob and Louise Bertie, of Bertie Transmissions, Kaushkenau Wisconsin!" the dragon said.

Louise shook the strange arachnid's hand with more reserve. "L-look, I'm not arachnophobic, but--"

The spider laughed and released their paws, shaking out the one that Bob had squeezed. "Aha, it's no problem! Really, we have too many eyes and limbs; our supremacy is our inferiority," he congenially said. "My wife wanted three engagement rings, and don't talk to me about her cashmere sweaters or the kids' prescription contacts."

"How many kids..." involuntarily asked Kioga, Ceylon, and Louise at the same time. Ceylon remained perched from the ceiling web, hanging by his osprey feet like a bat. The wire chafed a bit.

"Spider-sacs of about three or four. The same way that the adult-baby crowd moves the diaper market; so do genetically-aberrant species fuel other markets. We, the over-fertile, 'spear-head' the condom market in more ways than one. My name is Argos Arachnos, by the way."

"Can a female anthroid spider choose the sperm, like your counterparts?" asked Ceylon from above.

"Let's just say the process is as imperfect as the primary subjects of adult diapers."

Kioga knew, with Argos's many eyes, he was looking at him, but didn't know whether the muscular black spider in the leather diaper cover and harness was looking at him. With his body, at least, Argos was facing the Berties. "Might I comment, Mr. Bertie--may I call you Bob?"

"That's right; Mr. Bertie was my father!" said the dragon, thrusting his robust arm out at the spider. Argos took his paw again, and this time squeezed harder. The two locked eyes and grinned. Argos's arm was almost as thick as Bob's, full of muscle, whereas the dragon had a formidable layer of "middle-class luxury" coating it.

Louise rolled her eyes at the males' competitive antics, then suppressed a sigh as both men pulled away from the handshake with a grunt of pain and shook out their hands.

"I have to say, Mr. Bertie," said Argos, massaging his palm, "that your grip strength may be partially wasted if you do not at least explore the liberation of bondage."

"Well that sounds like a contradiction!"

"Summarily," said the arachnid with a smile in his voice, since his face was quite foreign, "we channel our energies with structures and devices the same way a nuclear power plant channels boiling water into powerful turbines."

"Oooh, I like the sound of that! But what about the hippies?"

Argos held up two paws of the same side. "As with any sort of transcendence, once a man realizes a higher state of being, he is blessed with the capacity of greater charity, which brings me back to webbing, of connectedness. There are people from many corners of ideology who glance upon the same idea, the same core virtue, pure and beautiful, from different angles. Yes, while we may all take lysergic acid and hypothesize that all our vibrating atoms might somehow speak to each other with the right mindset, that our thoughts--electrical impulses--could perhaps arc out and influence the atoms of our fitful vehicle's ECU or our feebly caffeinated frothy coffee, I prefer to concentrate on more actionable, plausible possibilities.

"We are all connected by our brains," said Argos, interweaving his thirty fingers, "and we can imagine that the pot-smoking video gamer is perhaps seeking the same thing as we are, the more openly materialistic. Happiness, contentment, satisfaction, self-esteem ... is that not what any certain person wants? Fulfillment."

"It's a very good speech," said Ceylon from the web-rafters, "but how does this tie, ha ha, to BDSM?"

"Oh, I'll show you my Argo-knots," mused the spider. "I am merely under the umbrella of the Praetorian Guard and, partly, the mission goal of our sister company, Ferris-Chalmpers LLC. What we believe here, even in Spinneret's Dungeon with our anal plugs and locking enemas and phallus stimulation modules, is that we are interconnected as one race--of ten thousand permutations--as we are in our own lives. Shame is not a part of one's life, or at least not one that ought to be incumbent. It is the same category as mechanical failures of a car, or errors in judgment of an anthroid being. So please do not look about my dungeon with embarrassment, shame, or the juvenile mischief of a shoplifter: these are not things you are 'getting away with.' Rather, these are tools--flavorings and toppings, Mister Bertie--to perhaps enhance your vanilla life."

"Oh, I'll take the lot!"

"I wouldn't advise that unless your checkbook is heavier than an encyclopedia."

"Well, do you got a sampler box?" asked Bob, a little embarrassed.

"Why don't I give you a tour?" purred the spider, then did not turn his head as he asked, "Mister Vie and Davis, would you care to join us?"

"I'm thinking of trying to make it out of here before my next diaper change," apologized the cheetah, then chuckled as he thought more about it. He reached out his arms and caught his boyfriend, who had fluttered down from the rafters and landed as lightly as a same-weight person could. "Or maybe, my second one. Already a little moist," he said, then when kneeling to set down Ceylon, felt the fetid, warm lubricant glide between his buttocks. "And muddy."

"If you're looking for a Davis Harmonizer," said Argos, "You'll find leather and brimstone scents in this section, and powdery scents up in ComfortABDL."

"The what?" asked Ceylon.

"Cologne with oxidizers for those kinds of scents," he answered. "Can we come back for a tour?" he asked the spider.

Argos checked his center-left wrist, where a black-metal watch sat snugly around. He checked it against another on his top-left wrist. "I'm afraid my shift is over in a couple hours, but please come here any time, of your own will or infraction."

"Heh," said Kioga, then went back to the checkout area, upon which a rack of pamphlets sat. He grabbed a few and started flipping, then went to a terminal accented with imitation gold and scanned a few barcodes.

Ceylon looked over his shoulder, then found himself climbing up the cheetah's back, using his wings to maintain their center of gravity.

"Do we need two?" he asked.

"In case one gets dirty, and it will get dirty," said Kioga.

"We probably won't use it all the time; laundry is quick."

"Hah, with the buckles banging around in the drum," he commented.

The two worked out an order to be shipped right to the parking garage, choosing a strait-jacket with solid leather belts and a quick-release bite-cord near the collar. The leather diaper covers were interesting, but these they passed, though did buy two diaper-ready plugs that had an extra base that braced it against the seat of the diaper, keeping it in place.

"Won't be able to sit down with this one," commented Ceylon.

"Not when one of us is on our knees, hehe," answered Kioga.

Ceylon coughed, then reached over Kioga, into his leather bag, to fish out a small key. The cheetah caught the gryphon's paw, trapping his arm in the bag. He looked back at his partner's very close face, the bridge of his muzzle rubbing under Ceylon's chin.

"You sure? Prudence and patience produces profit."

"Eeeugh," the gryphon grumbled, his dry diaper feeling tighter than a latex thong. "Fine, fine."

Kioga, blushing in his cheeks and stiffening in his wet padding, reached back and patted the gryphon on his crinkle-onesie rump. "Having fun?"

"Heeyup," chuckled Ceylon, then shifted his hips against Kioga's back. There was a firm pressure about his organ and a firm pull against his balls, but nothing was quite pinching.

"Oooh, they got restraints called Off-the-Cuff, ha ha," the cheetah said, returning to the catalog.

The two continued to browse, added a few more items to their order, and Kioga's face was recognized by the register. He nodded to purchase and his fur went up, a bit, at the "electric eye" level of transaction. Everything was connected, indeed.

Down the darkly-lit hallway before them, their eyes caught the rapid movement of several limbs. A creature skittered across the displays mounted on the wall, then it paused at the threshold, dropped to the ground, and smoothly strode towards them.

Kioga smirked, having become used to squaring up against larger and more powerful men such as Lugo, Evanstrom, Lasmo, and to some extent, Pendrael. "Pretty quick tour there, Jason. Did they even let you get a fortune cookie of a platitude out?"

"I've no skeletons in my closet; sorry," said Argos with the same teflon confidence. "Shame is for mistakes made in conscious ignorance, but I pontificate."

"You ever jerked off six dicks?"

Argos paused, but he did not laugh. "That would require six very good friends. May I say I'd only need four more?" he asked, extending two hands.

"Oh boy," said Ceylon.

"You, hmm," said Kioga with a gentle electric titter of embarrassment and intrigue. "Give me your card and we'll see. Might need to bring a pair, or four, of goggles." The thought of Lasmo popped into his head. As acerbic and cutthroat as the man was, he would be an efficient choice having two penises. Peni?

"I would certainly hope so," said the spider, then stood in place, folding his arms behind his back. "Is there anything else I might assist you with?"

"Is ... there anything you wanted to assist us with? I mean, can?" asked Kioga, taking a small card from the register. He turned the card flat in his paw and out popped a hologram, displaying a network of products and their associated prices.

"Well," said the spider, striding up to them and putting his fingers through the floating images, "a competent deliveryman would not only help you install your new devices, but demonstrate how they work."

"Oof, do you think this is okay?" asked Ceylon, looping his arm around the back of his boyfriend.

The cheetah met the gryphon's glance, their noses only a couple inches apart.

"Well, I've had my change, and a lovely full service," said Kioga. "Why don't we treat you? Got a big bag of toys to play with." He flicked his holographic receipt with his clipped thumb claw.

"We'd better reroute those, then," said Argos, holding a palm forward.

They handed the card over and the spider lifted one of his right arms, around which was snapped a pair of black cuffs that were rather invisible against his fine black hair. Any spot checks the two may have attempted were similarly blinded by his grandiose posturing, which magnetized their gaze to whatever his topic of interest was. He'd make a fine magician.

The cuffs lit up as he brought them near his face, and even in a whisper his voice was sonorous and smooth.

What was less smooth, however, was an effete yelp somewhere in the grand cavern of the Mercatio Munerum, then rapid, rather inarticulate cursing, and the scrape of roller skates.

"Work makes you free, I suppose," commented Kioga, tracking the employee's location by his constant stream of grumbling. Ceylon squinted, there was something off about his acoustics.

"You will be good to our guests," commanded Argos, which produced, above their heads, another high-pitched groan. To their surprise, they heard an actual vocalization of the classic hentai expression ... that was somehow even more inarticulate than "Ah-hee-gow."

"Eerrrr-wrrrrr," the rabbit whined, then made his way down a concealed lift--or perhaps a fireman's pole--and appeared before them.

"Oh dear," said Ceylon, and the two of them took a quick inventory of everything the poor rabbit Lucio was wearing. Starting from the bottom, he had his roller skates, this time with a shackle and lock over the laces, then a onesie with latches and a dial-lock in the crotch. The onesie was latex, and it showed every crease and crinkle of the diaper beneath. There were, of course, two zippered flaps (with locks) over his chest, and these were open, exposing his nipples which had tiny clamps over them, fitted with watch batteries. His paws were bound in thick leather mittens which did not even afford him thumbs, and his face was sealed in a gimp mask, though the mouth zipper was open. Drool proceeded from both corners of his mouth around a ball gag conveniently locked in place behind his long buck teeth. On his back was a water backpack, usually for aerobic exercise, but the tube did not lead to his mouth... it snaked under his onesie, toward the back.

For safety, they also gave him pads for his knees and elbows, and over his head was a nice helmet. All black, gold, and leather-themed, of course.

"You will apologize to our guests," said the spider into his cuffs, which made the rabbit shiver, wobble, and moan on his roller skates.

"Ah, remote control for..." Ceylon asked, and the spider nodded.

"All the accouterments. Electric nipple clamps, a hot/cold/vibrating chastity device, and a remote enema control, with valve plug."

"Add those, please," said Kioga, and the spider lifted his cuffs again. Lucio barked out a series of muffled, slobbery pleas, and Argos gave him only a little shock, frost, and squirt of water.

Lucio stammered on his skates, pawed at his backside and crotch, then scampered off to fetch the materials.

"Oh dear," said Ceylon, "when does he get a diaper change?"

"Either when he's leaving droplets around the complex," said Argos, "or when he's trying to rub his rump against a column, because diaper rash is easy to cure. It may be the latter, as those are incredibly absorbent diapers. Far more likely for liquid or semi-solids to leak out the top than the leg seals."

"That good?" stammered Ceylon.

The spider's voice seemed to smirk. "With a bit of help from the waterproof onesie, of course."

"Can he tap out?" asked Kioga. His eyes went upward, through the webbing and the dome above, to see a steady stream of tourists, some from the museum, traveling between the Medical Boutique and Life Furniture. He and Ceylon shared a secretive glance, remembering with warm chests, crotches, and rear passages their lovely little session.

"He can delay his sentence by throwing himself prostrate before any non-indicted employee. From there he goes into a meditation womb where he can rest his weary mind."

"A meditation...?"

"Oh yes, a restorative body sleeve like your Star Wars ..." he said, waving his hands in search of an answer.

"Bacta tanks."

"Yes!" said Argos, snapping three of his fingers in a quick, firework volley.

"Do you rent those out to birthing fetishists, as well?"

"For the essence of spiritual and erotic healing, yes," said Argos, "but for people that just want a quick crank, we refer them to the resort."

"A fancy sensory deprivation chamber."

"Some people have already replaced their mattresses," the spider commented, then checked his cuffs. "He's in motion, and ... oh, very nice. Just had a movement. He must be so relieved. Goodness, capacity dropped forty percent. What a good boy. Keeps the center of gravity down, too."

Ceylon and Kioga's ears folded as, from a corner of the dungeon some zigzagging meters away, the gangbangers ran into Lucio and proceeded to brutalize him with laughter and mockery. Argos chuckled. "Ah, let the lashes of their derision strike his back. Let him wince, bleed, and bathe in his shame."

"Hey, you said no shame," sniped Kioga.

"You're really trying to get my goat; I love the spirit," said Argos. "But no: we must absolutely reinforce sinshaming."

"All over a door," sighed Ceylon.

"For want of a nail, the kingdom was lost. Now," the spider said, clapping his six hands together in another gratifying cavalcade of sound. "Shall we meet him in our purchaser suite?"

"Can you crack your knuckles?" asked Kioga.

"Excuse me?"

"Please?"

The spider chuckled, his broad chest producing warm notes as thick as fresh honey. "Ah, very well," Argos said, and after leading them down a hallway in which their shoe-squeaks, and the tip-tap of Argos and Ceylon's claws, echoed, the spider placed three fists into three palms and squeezed.

Ah, it was a bullet-hell machine gun burst of cracks and pops, like bubble wrap under a rolling pin, and the cheetah and gryphon shivered, their backs bending and their fur spiking, as the percussion ricocheted against the sheer polished walls. The feeling of relief that teased them was not unlike something large and moist either entering, or leaving, their bowels.

"You put that on the internet and you'd solve world peace," said Kioga, still buzzing. Ceylon paused in the hallway, then smiled and leaned his head against the cool stone wall as he relaxed his bladder and flooded his diaper with an intense, warm flush of piss.

"I don't even need a massage," sighed the gryphon, contentedly brushing his knuckles against his stretching, warming onesie.

"And no more spider jokes; yes, my aunt is a masseuse," said Argos, then swiftly strode back and picked Ceylon up.

"O-oh?" asked the gryphon, but was already stolen away with the muscular male's quick strides. Kioga jogged after them.

"Our boyservant should be back by now or he'll be your throne, changing pad, table, and towel," said Argos, bringing the lynxsprey into a totally black, square room with an altar in the center which was padded with white leather. From the ceiling hovered a single rectangle of pure white light. "Goodness, you are a wet one."

Ceylon wriggled as he felt a paw slip up from behind his thighs and a finger run between his wet padding and furry scrotum.

"But I imagine you two are quite the handfuls for each other," said the spider, laying the gryphon on his back, on the table, "which indeed is part of a good relationship. Maintenance and growth."

"Does your wife work for a living?" asked Kioga, watching Argos smooth out Ceylon's onesie with two hands sweeping up and two sweeping down his torso.

"Masseuse at the resort," Argos said, "which includes physical epiphany and denouement."

"How do you prevent the perverts that'd call a woman demeaning names?" asked Ceylon, who shivered in his voice as Argos's hand clasped his wet, diapered groin, squishing the gel against his intimates.

"Warning, then a cold water pitcher, exile, and only half-refunds," said the spider, popping the snaps of Ceylon's onesie. "Possible referral to the Contempla. But the Terms and Conditions--"

"'Don't?'" Kioga inserted, feeling his throat and cock get hard as Argos peeled Ceylon's onesie up his chest, revealing his stomach.

"Are mighty simple. Common sense in a virtuous world," said Argos.

The spider proceeded to lift Ceylon's upper half, then remove his onesie entirely. Gently, his lower arms peeled the tapes of the grypon's heavy diaper, then folded it open on the table between his thighs, revealing his cage. Argos's face was not capable of legible expression (at least for most species), and his robust body did not betray any twitch of surprise as he beheld the gryphon's anatomy grown to its allowed maximum against his curved metal chastity cage. His balls were tight against the railed shaft and its ring beneath.

"It might be advisable that this remain," said the spider, stroking a warm hand over the hot, musky metal's curvature. The slit at the end, moist with urine, drooled a more viscous fluid and Ceylon's hips twitched as patches of erect skin came in contact with his fingers. "But now the preparation. Are you comfortable, Mister Davis?"

Kioga went to the corner where he found a black chair, visible only by its soft white leather cushion. His own diaper was already half-swamp from both excretions, but the thick, enveloping tension was such a perfect mirror that he took great pleasure in the earthy, fetid squish as he sat down. "Please; do not worry about me," the cheetah purred, and the bulge in his onesie was made all the more evident as he sat down. Much more than mere swollen gel propped up the front. The cheetah could not help but pop his own onesie snaps, and the room virtually gained a few more lumens as he revealed his pillowy white diaper to grope it.

"Very well. I shall demonstrate by action, but I am open to any question."

"Such as?" asked Ceylon, his heart thrumming in its cage, his nipples erect before the calm, dominant male.

"Shush," said Argos, placing the entirety of his warm palm softly over the gryphon's blunt feline muzzle. "From you there is only pleasure, acceptance, and absorption." Ceylon nodded and lay back, completely nude before Argos and Kioga. His buttocks rested atop his open, moist diaper.

Lucio glided into the room with only the scrape of his roller skates and the hushed glide of a delivery cart's caster wheels. He was completely silent aside from that. Argos excused the rabbit with a wave of his hand; Lucio bowed and rolled away.

First, over Ceylon, came a soft, cupped leather muzzle that fit perfectly over his face. His mouth could open only enough to breathe, and the vents circulated his air well, with enough to keep the cup warm and humid. Argos used the cart behind him like a surgeon's tray table, picking out each tool with practiced precision.

The two admired the spider's strong, confident movements. Ceylon abstractedly thought that Argos's diaper was actually the most appropriate brief for him; its thick, prominent bulk matched the rest of his musculature. "Cuffs and straitjackets are not entirely mutually exclusive," he said, bringing out a pair with elongated chains, "for you can further channel your partner's sexual energy by removing further factors of movement. Let your partner be your canvas." To this, he pulled out a straitjacket of the same material, displaying a garment that was pure white with brass grommets. The spider lifted the gryphon's upper body and removed his soaked brief, ably rolling it up with an extra set of arms and then setting it aside. He wiped the area gently and efficiently, lifting Ceylon's legs to trace around his scrotum, then between his rump cheeks to give his anus a quick swipe.

"Oh," still came from the gryphon as he felt the wet cloth wipe across his tailhole. While the diaper change itself was quite congenial, the commanding attention from the spider, as well as the straitjacket and cuffs hanging from one of his arms, gave the air an electric sexual tinge.

"The essence of art is the selection and rejection of elements," continued Argos, pulling the naked cat-bird up to sit. He pulled the jacket over Ceylon's head as if dressing a toddler, though had much less trouble in coordinating the male's limbs. "And here, we decide to bring focus to your erogenous zones by limiting the movement of the rest of your body."

"Ahem!" Ceylon chuckled, muffled by the muzzle. His arms were wrapped around him, then buckled in place against his back. The onesie-like tails of the garment hung over his anatomy, revealing little flashes to his partner from time to time. Argos gently laid Ceylon down and clipped the cuffs to his shoulders' rings, then linked his shoulders to the side of the table.

The gryphon found that he could barely move his upper body, perhaps being able to shift a few inches in any direction. Argos took the front flap of his jacket and flipped it upwards, exposing his lower half which was adorned with nothing aside from a chastity cage. That chastity cage was rather full at the moment, and Ceylon blushed as, effectively, nothing but his legs blocked Kioga's view of him.

The spider went to the bottom of the table and lifted Ceylon's legs with two arms, then with two more he retrieved lubricant with one and wet the fingers of the other. A rustle and purr vibrated the room as Kioga clasped his cock through his diaper, quiet crinkles emanating as he softly bucked into his paw.

Argos massaged the gel until his knuckles dripped into the exposed core of the diaper, then in keeping Ceylon's legs spread he stroked the inside of each buttock, leading to the hole, taking great care to wholly paint the area. The spider kept his body slightly turned, allowing the gryphon's boyfriend to view everything in perfect exposure, and kept his pace perfectly steady. He let zero of his own arousal, which indeed had risen to a thick, enveloping potency in his own loins, in his own diaper, in his own leather cover, rush his actions.

And it was a beautiful sight to Kioga, seeing this lithe male in full light and nudity. The gryphon's dark gray chest rose and fell with an accelerated pace. His stomach heaved with small twitches. His genitals, a caged cock and moist, musky gray testes stretched into a tight pouch by the ring, throbbed and drooled onto his body and down onto the table. Ceylon's anus, shiny black, tight, and wrinkled, pulsed as Argos's lubed fingers stroked its sensitive skin.

"Mmmph," groaned the lynx-osprey, his legs spread and lifted. Arms wrapped tight around him and upper body bound in place, he could only lay there on the padded table and receive his lavishment. Below the waist, he was naked, on display for his boyfriend and their instructor. And there were plenty of sensitive parts. Kioga, he saw, had opened the top two tapes of his diaper and had his own legs spread. The cheetah stared at him, drinking in his body, as a paw buried deep into his wet, messy padding and milked his cock.

"Mmmmh," Ceylon sighed happily at the sight, then bucked as two warm, slick fingers pressed against his tailhole. "Mmm!" The cheetah's eyes widened and his crinkling stroking quickened as he saw his boyfriend twitch. Ceylon's precious, silky asshole was being prodded.

Argos wore his own cage, a thick and heavy device for his large, proportionate anatomy, and he felt beads of sweat roll down his head as his fingers teased the wrinkled, clenched entrance. His own anus gripped a rectum-filling plug he'd put in a few hours ago, and he had to manually squeeze his anal muscles to keep from expelling it, and other material, into his hot, humid padding.

"One savors the time," he said with added heat to his voice, "because the memories follow you."

His legs spread and his limbs wrapped tight around him, Ceylon was glad he'd had his own movement earlier, for in this position he was completely relaxed aside from the strain in his groin. Even that, he had to admit, was a more liberating flush than it was a frustrating pinch and clench.

"Aaah," was his muffled response as the fingers kept gliding into his passage, bringing awareness to the sensitive, animated skin of his pulsing, wet walls deep inside his being.

The spider kept his movement steady, while to the side, much in accordance to his own harried heartbeat, Kioga looked on hungrily, indulgently, lovingly as he pleasured himself. The cheetah's diaper-front had fallen by this point, a fat wet white and yellowed slug, and Ceylon wasn't sure whether it was his own predicament, or Kioga's, that had one more exposed to the other. With a finger sliding around inside him, he watched his boyfriend's balls bounce as Kioga stroked his hard, naked cock.

"Do you," said Argos with a pause, "wish to help him before we seal him up?"

"Mmmh?" asked Ceylon.

"Oh, would I," stammered Kioga, standing from his chair. He caught his diaper before it fell, but in shifting, his sharp fecal zing hit his nostrils. "I think I might drip; I'm not sure..."

"We'll get Lucio to clean it up," said Argos with a snap of his fingers. Another one of his arms reached to the cart, opened a salve, and anointed a vent in Ceylon's mask. A lovely scent of mahogany joined the leather of his muzzle and the gryphon smelt none of the cheetah's mess.

Kioga waddled over to the table, holding his onesie up with his teeth and the front and back of his diaper with his hands, but then Argos ripped Kioga's onesie off with one hand, threw his diaper against the wall with another, all while keeping a finger inside Ceylon and his feet up in the air.

Kioga groaned as wet feces ran down the back of his thighs, but he quickly found himself pulled in between Argos and Ceylon and then his cock lubed up by the spider's quick paw.

"Oooh!" the cheetah gasped as he felt a cold wipe quickly dart up between his cheeks.

"There; at least it's mitigated," the spider said. His hard, hairy chest vibrated against Kioga's naked back, and the grommets on his harness were hot to the touch. "Fuck him," he growled.

"Oh boy," the thin cheetah stammered, trapped between his partner and a slab of aroused meat. Kioga stepped up on a block at the end of the table, bringing his hips perfectly level with the gryphon's anatomy, and the cheetah began the classic, practiced steps of lovemaking while two pairs of hairy arms hovered above him. "This all good?"

"Mmm!" confirmed Ceylon, and Kioga put the spined head of his cock against the gryphon's anus and pushed forward. Ceylon's legs bent and he pulled himself closer, his bowel sliding around Kioga's slick, stiff shaft and ensheathing him.

"Steady," said Argos, a paw against Kioga's stomach. "Savor every inch, every thrust, and every squeeze of your partner. Slow," the spider said into the cheetah's ear, his warm, multi-eyed face flush against Kioga's. A total of ten eyes watched the bound male beneath, and the congress between a wet, twitching anus and a hard, pink cock.

"Oh, love," Kioga sighed as hot, wet skin enveloped him, radiating out to his thighs and his balls. His hips pushed forward until they met firm buttocks. The back of Ceylon's legs, furry and flexed, met Kioga's shoulders, and the cheetah wrapped his arms around them in a tight embrace as he began his steady, rhythmic thrusts.

In being bound and spread, the gryphon had no choice but to channel his sensations to necessary places. With the muzzle, he did not need to talk; with the straitjacket, he did not need to move: he could only feel the tension in the arms of the garment as he shivered under Kioga's ministrations. He let his eyes drink in the wonderful sight before him, that of his boyfriend and a masculine, dark shadow behind; his body accepted and gripped, as best as it could, the stiff, pulsing organ of the cheetah as it pushed inside his bowels.

It was a particular bonus, as the cheetah began to lean into his body and speed his thrusts, penetrating him with insistent thrusts of his cock, that the wetness of lubricant and precum was translated to the insides of his cheeks and the base of his tail.

"Mmmfh!" he gave to Kioga, which made the male briefly smile in the middle of his cycles of humping. Kioga, for his part, gripped the gryphon's rump, pulled the cheeks apart, and ground into Ceylon, balls slapping and breath huffing. Each set of strokes spun his motor faster; acceleration brought acceleration, and soon the cheetah was a mad ball of male passion and lust as he drove himself into the gryphon's tight, slippery ass over and over.

Ceylon lay there in a bed of luxury and eroticism, receiving his boyfriend's cock amid its mad thrusts. Argos's admonitions to go slow, go steady, seemed more of advice on how to properly heat oneself, because the spines on the feline's penis felt more like a scalp massage than an attack. His body writhed, taking the male's blows with gratified gusto. What else could he do but bathe in all this lusty wonder, tied up as he was? Even Argos, who had his legs stretched straight up, appeared more like his statue outside.

Perhaps his gift back to Kioga was to receive it. Gratitude would be his gift: the duty to enjoy and acknowledge. It would be a pretty easy task, he thought, because nerve endings throughout his body roiled and churned with excitement. Starting at his rear and resonating outward in trembling shocks, they burst at his extremities like waves against rocks.

"Closer?" the spider asked, making the cheetah add another nod to his pumps. "Hold." Argos patted Kioga on the chest, then pulled a pair of cuffs from the cart. One went around each of Kioga's wrists, then the cheetah found himself stretched a little forward and clipped to rings on Ceylon's hips. "That should give you a better handle."

Any sort of nervous smile on Kioga's part was wiped when he felt his hands locked to Ceylon's hips. "Oh boy," he whispered, then wrapped his fingers around the chains and accelerated back to his old rhythm, then exceeded it. In passionate union, the two groaned, grunted, writhed, and thrust until the cheetah's tempo began to constantly quicken.

Up, up, up, up went the thrusts of his hips, the beat of his cock, until the spotted cat shuddered and erupted a long, droning moan from his throat and a furious, spewing gush of cum from down below.

"Ahhhh, fuck, oh fuck!" he snarled, bucking into Ceylon like they were cowboy and bull. "Aww, shit; that's the stuff! Hell yeah!" he cried out in shameless, reckless bursts.

"Oooh..." Ceylon gulped from down below. "Hhhhoh," he sighed as his sheath pulsed firmly against its cage, and his bowels flooded with Kioga's semen. The wonderful warmth spread inside of him, feeling as if Kioga were melting, merging inside of him. To lay there and let it wash through him, ah ... perhaps Kioga would have a hell of a horny bird-kitty later tonight, but right now? Time to be hit by a tsunami of pleasure.

Ceylon's view swam just as his body did; the gryphon felt like he was laying atop a rubber raft on a warm ocean, or maybe had a few balloons tied to his body and was bobbing through the air. The perfect, gratified buzz thrumming through him was pure and clean, and it lent its grace to the good volume of bodily fluids filling him. Maybe some would find it unsanitary? But at the same time, it was an absolute necessity in life.

He didn't even realize that his ankles were resting on Kioga's shoulders, and Argos was off to the side of them, sorting through the cart. They shared a few more seconds of afterglow with the cheetah leaning forward and the two nuzzling, then with a kiss to Ceylon's mask Kioga pulled out with a slick, indulgent slurp as fluids followed. He began to work on his cuffs, the releases fortunately within reach of his fingers, but they gave him a little trouble as he twitched for them.

"Exemplary," the spider said, turning to them. The cheetah's nose twitched; Argos's diaper certainly seemed a bit larger. He didn't have time to muse on it much, though, for the spider strode behind Kioga, and then lubed and gently inserted a plug up into him.

"Oh!" said Kioga, jumping as his anus stretched and then snugged around its base. It was about the only time he felt something solid in his rectum for more than five seconds. He looked behind, expecting to find that this was where the giant male would domineer them both, but what he saw was something more explicit:

A salesman seeing two pleased customers.

Somehow, it was stranger, more perverse, to be conducting such a naughty business so frankly. The look on the spider's face, if it could hold any legible look, was one that said, "You're welcome."

Argos held up another plug. "Would you like to do the honors yourself or would you like some assistance?"

Kioga looked down at his boyfriend and the straitjacket around him. "Go ahead."

Argos uncuffed Kioga and then switched places with him. The spider maintained his professional bearing, making it all the more weird when he'd lustily growled, 'Fuck him.' But then again, it was all within a proper framework and proper setting, was it not? Argos bowed and strode past Kioga, then lubed up a second plug and pushed it smoothly into the soft, supple patch below the gryphon's testes.

"Now as a reminder," said Argos, "these are the diaper-plugs, and so you are generously recommended to rest either on your knees, or laying on your sides. Mind the extra strata on the base, or use the convertible version with a removable second base."

"Oh; no more cart rides," Kioga said wistfully.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Ceylon said, muffling through his leather muzzle. He tried to sit up but then both Kioga and Argos stopped him from rolling onto his buttocks.

"Where are you going without a diaper?" asked Argos, then asked the question again. He did not turn his head, for his eight eyes saw all, but the second time, the question went, "Where are either of you going? Cheetah, you're practically world-renowned for your swampy underpants."

"Don't remind me," groaned Kioga, then shrugged as he received a diaper from Argos and slipped it beneath his boyfriend's haunches. "But then again, if you don't remind me, the inside of my thighs will."

Up and around the hips went one diaper, then Ceylon finally got his arms unpinned from around his chest and moved off the table. The gryphon rolled one of his arms, then the other, with this newfound freedom, then slid the long jacket sleeves up to his elbows to put a diaper on Kioga. Up and around this one went as well, then Ceylon helped Kioga step into a fancy, fluffy diaper cover like a pair of pull-up underwear. The same went for the other, then Kioga secured the crotch-belt between Ceylon's legs.

"Phew, well, thank you for your personal guidance," said Kioga, "but I'm thinking our friends are going to be tired of tormenting Lucio sooner or later. ... probably later. Can you point us to the ABDL section?"

"The baby section?"

"Yes, the adult baby section."

"We just call it the baby section," the spider said with a graceful genuflection. "It's understood that when one wants to transform, he does so with implicit caveats. It keeps the fluidity of our transformations, as well as the fidelity of our many connections, smooth and strong. If we have to make a specific remark about its nature, then we are modifying its core nature, instead embracing what ought to be its most natural and default state."

"Ah, like a dirt-free sandwich," said Kioga. "If you gotta specify, something's wrong."

Argos grumbled, but recovered himself into his default statuesque pose. His movements swished his leather-covered diaper around as a bit of his masculine and bathroom musk escaped, making him all too real a presence ... and friend, come to think of it. "Yes, if you're to reduce everything to the point of a ballpoint pen."

"It's easy to connect things when they're closer together," said Kioga with a wink.

"Mmmrph?" said Ceylon, then pulled the muzzle cup away from his face. "I'll buy this, too; thank you."

"Ah, what a relief," said Kioga, a bit too loudly.

Ceylon narrowed his eyes, then pointedly put it into the bag. "We both know you're the chatty one."

"So do we just go back up the stairs, then up one more?"

The spider steepled his thirty fingers, then nodded down a side path that was half-black, with its other half bathed in a bright diaper-white light. "I'll save you the grandiosity, but that's our dummy waiter to paradise; much faster than a stairway. Once you've experienced the harrows of hardship; of diapered, dire straits--"

"Which was quite delightful!" Ceylon chirped.

"You're welcome. Once you've experienced the harrows of hardship, then, so humbled, shall the fullness of Heaven properly enter you. A dry diaper absorbs the most."

Kioga pushed their cart briskly down the pathway, but Argos made it a point to stand adjacent to their way. The cheetah got a decently prodigious lump in his throat ... and pants ... in remembering the bulk of sensuality hovering over them as they frolicked in the garden of their love. Humbled as he was, Kioga was quite glad Argos approved.

"You ever been to the USDABDL Steakhouse?" asked the cheetah.

"I was a chef there before getting the job here. They called me quite the handy-man," said the spider.

"Wanna join the Crew there sometime?"

"I'd be so honored. I'll bring my finest jacket," Argos said, tugging at the strap of his harness.

"Something tells me it won't be the large amount of red meat plugging up our colons," said Ceylon with a titter, prancing behind Kioga to give his backwards-tented diaper a little wiggle. The cheetah's back bent as the silicone bulb swirled and pushed against his walls.

"Oooohf," he mewled, then tried to reach back to jiggle Ceylon's. The gryphon merely redoubled his teasing, using the diaper-braced plug to stir Kioga's guts.

"Off, you two!" the spider laughed. "I've other customers and unless you're part of the demonstration, you're in the way."

"Time to crib our enthusiasm, eheh," said Kioga, and Ceylon shook his head at the joke.