Touchdown
Hey dudes, JJ here.
Real talk: going to shelve The Guy in Charge for now. It's taken me literally years to work on the next chapter, and it may or may not surprise you to find out that I've gotten... absolutely nowhere with it. :/ The characters were initially loads of fun to play around with, but I find I can't seem to work with them without boring myself to death these days. There's still definitely room for future installments sometime in the way-way-not-now future.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this self-contained short about a wolferino and his dad. Expect more things along these lines from now on until I can conquer my fear of commitment!
As with my other shizznick, beware general m/m-themed tomfoolery and teh diaps. This one is fucked on so many levels, so seriously: read the tags before continuing.
"Hey, Josh, bud - you got that?"
I caught a particularly steamy meme with my thumb as I lifted my head from my phone, a smile still plastered to my face.
I didn't even notice the microwave beeping maniacally in the background.
Dad stood in front of me with a bowl of chili between two massive, red mittens. "Josh? You going deaf on me?" He said, kicking the oven door shut with a graying foot-paw. "Tell me you hear that, dude!"
I groaned and swung the microwave open. Bubbling cheese - fluorescent, like yellow plastic - greeted me in a large, white bowl patterned with vaguely Mexican motifs.
"Your mom doesn't want you on that thing for boys' night, you know." Dad chided, poking the chili skin with a long spoon. "You're in high school now, bud. You've gotta--"
"I know, I know: Gotta start networking." I said in what I thought was a pretty grade-A imitation of mom. "Can we just... not, and say I did?"
Dad frowned and turned from his chili skin-stirring to lecture me. "Joshua, you're going to be a man soon; you need to start acting like it. Think about work after school - life's all about who you know. Maybe you could get a job with one of the guys in a couple years."
I snorted and went back to my phone. A man, huh? Weird how that works out.
Dad left the kitchen bar to set the table. Nachos, salsa, cheese, the works; they were all arranged around a central bucket filled with ice. "Look, bud," he started, angling the plates just so. "Your mom's a little crazy, I get it, but she's not wrong. After all, I always wanted to be able to share these nights with you, get to really introduce you to the guys, you know?"
"I don't even like football." I snapped. "Or beer."
And I wasn't kidding, either.
I'm kind of a delicate wolf, inside and out. The idea of football isn't even boring to me; it's just unrefined, pointless. At 5'4" and a bit slimmer than maybe my dad would like, I get the feeling I don't exactly measure up to the whole 'only son' thing. I'm not exactly what you'd call an alpha - a really bad fit for boys' night, if you asked me.
Dad sighed and flattened his ears. He held out a paw over the bar and shook it expectantly.
"That's fine. You don't have to." He said. This sort of putting-my-footpaw-down stuff was unusual for him, never mind actually agreeing with mom. "But you know the rules; no phone, no pants."
With a roll of my eyes, I dropped my phone into his paw and leaned into the counter.
"Whatever."
There was a knock at the door. My dad's ears perked as he pocketed my phone. "Josh, they're here - try to be at least a little involved, kay?"
I shrugged.
Dad opened the door to a beaming cheetah - Kevin, I think his name was, and a longtime friend of both my parents. A carton of bottles hung from one of his paws and his shirt showed some football team that I only recognized as one my dad hated.
"Kev!" Dad chirped, taking the big cat's paw in his. "Lookin' good, buddy! You know you can borrow a shirt from me if you want something a little cleaner; you've got a shit stain or something on the front I think."
Kevin laughed and stepped into the house. "Eat my ass, Rick. How the hell are ya?"
The testosterone in the ensuing conversation gave me a headache.
Welp, I thought. Better get this over with.
I stepped out of the kitchen and lifted a paw in half-hearted greeting.
"Is... your boy alright?" The cheetah asked, gawking. He plunked a six-pack of craft beers - a recent hobby of the football gang - onto the counter, not tearing his eyes away from me. "He's, uh... a little underdressed, yeah?"
So... before I go on, maybe the reader should know I wear diapers - and thick, baby-print ones. No pants allowed, either; something, something, need to learn about maturity, something. My mom's kind of nuts.
But enough about that.
"Yeahhh, kid gets a little over-excited from time to time." He slapped a paw on my shoulder and pulled me in for a noogie. "It's been a real pain in the ass cleaning up puddles around the place."
"Daaaad--!"
He flipped the hood of my sweater over my head with a playful grin. "Plus, the missus's been pretty insistent on more father-and-son bonding time, or whatever." A pat on the butt and a pointed claw sent me off in the direction of the living room as though I were just a toddler. "Go watch some tv while you still can, slugger. - Hey, 've got some nachos there if you want, Kev."
Dad and Kevin bantered for a little while longer when another knock came at the door. Dad answered and in stepped an imposing, almost comically-muscled deer. They both liked the same team, so Kevin was in trouble.
"Dan!"
"Kevin, Ricky! How's it hangin', guys?" The deer stepped in carrying grocery bags of wine coolers and an opened box of saltine crackers in one of his armpits. "Sorry 'bout this, was all I got," he admitted sheepishly. "Didn't have time to run out before."
Dad didn't seem to mind. He gave him a brotherly slap on the elbow and closed the door behind him. "We made plenty, don't even worry."
The deer chuckled and dumped his meager offerings out on the counter. "Great - it looks great."
I didn't realize it at the time, but I had a pretty massive crush on Dan. He always had that manly-man smell to him, that sweet smell of broken down deodorant after a long day at work.
As he rifled eagerly through the grocery bags freeing bottles of wine cooler from the plastic, he did a double-take at me and slowed to a cautious, if uncertain, rummaging. "Hey there, bud. It's been a while. I, uh... I like the pants?" He turned to dad and quipped with a poorly-suppressed grin, "They grow up so fast, don't they, Rick?"
My face felt hot. I think I blushed at him but pretended to roll my eyes.
As my diaps started to tent, I finally took dad's advice. I jumped ship with paws placed modestly over my boner and made for the living room. My butt crinkled audibly every step of the way. With what precious little time I had before the game, I plopped down onto a couch and flipped through channels in the hopes of finding something good. God, I couldn't wait for this to be over.
Dad and his buddies continued to rib each other over predictions of the outcome of tonight's game. I caught snippets, things about a great run this season, draft pick, shitty linemen; you know, just generally dude-ish stuff.
Another voice added to the growing din behind me, and then another. I turned, an arm along the length of the couch, half-expecting a sizable crowd to have gathered at this point with how rowdy they were getting. Two more friends, Bill the coyote and Bruno the hyena, came in to arbitrarily tear down and defend football teams.
I got really stuck into a documentary about scalies when the five of them invaded the living room, beers in paw. Dad and Kevin helped set the coffee table with a buffet of crap food and Dan, Bill and Bruno found spots on the couches uncomfortably close to me.
"Hey, partner," Bill said, motioning to me. His expression went from friendly to nakedly confused. "...nice drawers ya got there."
Bruno was equally bewildered but shrugged it off. "These younger furs all have their thing. I dig it."
I simmered. "Thanks."
"Alright, J, it's game time." Dad announced. I handed over the remote grudgingly and folded into a corner of the couch.
As if by magic, the picture went pixelated as soon as he flipped to sports channel.
At first, it was just a minor annoyance, but then it was completely unviewable. I almost hoped I was off the hook, but dad was on the case.
"Shit, I hope you can fix it, Rick." Bruno said, maw full of nachos.
"I got it guys." Dad assured them, phone pressed to his ear. "Anybody need any beers? - Yeah, hi, Lucas - can I call you Luke? - Right, Luke, so I'm having a problem with cable with the big game on tonight and I don't want to hear any nonsense about off-and-on-again."
As dad patronized the poor cable guy on the phone, his friends turned to me with intent to make small talk.
"So," Kevin began, swirling a craft beer in his paws. "High school, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Ahh, I remember those days. Man, me and your dad have some stories."
Bill the coyote slapped his knee and guffawed. "Ha-haaa, you crazy cats! Your ma and pa probably wouldn't like us sharin' that, though." He scratched his ear and nudged the cheetah. "Reckon his wife'd kill ya, Kevvy."
I wiggled my toes in disinterest. "Well, alright?"
Dan the deer chimed in to save my virgin ears. "Any she-wolves? A looker like you has to have one. Your dad couldn't keep them off him back in his day."
"Nope." I smoothed my sweater-shirt over my stomach and let my head hang back. I wasn't budging.
"The chicks really like kids, I hear." Bruno said, grinning.
...Ugh.
Kevin spoke again, "Your daddy says you're an athlete, big guy. What kinda sports you play?"
I was a track runner, but dad says that's not a real sport.
I didn't need to take this from him or his friends. I remained quiet.
As they slowly figured out they weren't getting anything from me, they eventually returned to bickering about who was going to win, speculating about such ridiculous aspects of the game as seniority, species, and scores in past years.
Eventually, the picture on the TV came back and the room broke into cheers and claps.
Oh, how joyful.
I stared off blankly through the anthem and through a mind-numbing series of tackles and throws. Occasionally, dad or his friends would explode into violent "CAHMANNN"'s and "YES! YES! YES!"'s and jar me from my waking slumber.
To save myself from the ordeal, I even tried a beer. It was disgusting from the first sip to the last. By the time I'd finished it, the coffee table was already littered with bottles. Dad's friends were obviously having a great time.
And the tipsier they got, the more fun they poked at me.
"What's it like not having to use the bathroom?" Bruno the hyena remarked once. The others chuckled stupidly.
"I dunno. What's it like being a douche?" I shot back hotly. I pulled a cushion over my lap self-consciously.
Dan, that big, manly deer, punched my arm and flashed a playful smile. "Ohh, look out! Nobody puts baby in the corner! Nice one, guy--" He held out a hoof which, were it any other fur in the room, I wouldn't have high-fived - but this was Dan, and I slapped that shit without even thinking about it.
The deer grinned again and got up, dusting nacho particles off his jeans. His crotch was just inches from my face. "...Speakin' of which, where's the bathroom at again, Rick?"
"Down the hall to the left," my dad answered. He was gathering up trash from the coffee table at a commercial break.
Damn, I thought. I had to go too - but not for a piss. The nachos were really doing a number on me. I'll just wait him out, I guess.
With the game on hold, the other furs stood and stretched. They shared their amazement with each other at the closeness of the game so far. I gathered from their comments that there were bets placed on each team as well.
Dad came back from clearing the table with a refill on nachos and a handful of beers, which were quickly distributed to the guys.
"So, Josh," Bill said. His beer bottle hissed as he cracked it open. "Ya'll havin' toilet troubles, or...?"
Dad cut in before I had a chance to react:
"Yeah, you could say that. He's a piddly little pup, so the wife 'n' I--"
"Dad."
"--have him on this second potty-training regimen. It's actually worked wonders for his school performance, too."
The guys nodded, one after another's example, in a way that really didn't convey comprehension.
Kevin piped up. "Remember that time you pissed yourself during a test in Mr. Ingham's class, Rick?"
Dad wasn't amused at all. "Yeah, I do, Kev."
I facepawed.
My dad was relieved to hear the commentators' welcome back to the game.
As the players all positioned themselves on the field, I got up and crinkled around the arrangement of couches toward the hallway. My heart sank as I saw the light still on in the bathroom.
Fuck.
I crept up to the side of the couch and leaned into it; from there I could keep an eye on the bathroom. My tummy gurgled painfully.
I tried to occupy myself with thoughts of Dan standing, those thick, muscular thighs parted, over a toilet too small for someone of his size. I imagined his underwear around his ankles and his taught, round ass bare as a stream of piss tinkled into the bowl. My dick throbbed to life.
Another round of commercials and more talk from the commentators, and still no sign of Dan. Sweat gathered on my forehead and rolled down into my eyebrows in rivulets.
Duty called.
Shit, I thought_. I... really gotta...!_
I lifted a footpaw, and then another, alternating at a semi-jog like one of my track warm-ups at school. The cramps got so bad I had to grip the arm of the couch with one paw and my thigh with the other, shooting glances over at the hallway with increasingly desperate frequency. A bar of light still shown from under the bathroom door.
Shit - he's still not done?
At this point, 'duty' was playing peek-a-boo. I let slip a muted poot to relieve the pressure as the commentators yammered on about the outcome of a game that hadn't even finished yet.
Bill, the coyote, shot me a look along the side of a beer bottle upturned in his maw. I must have looked like I was totally spazzing.
With a refreshed huff, he pointed at me: "Hey, Rick, think your kid's gotta be taken out fer a leak or... somethin'. Erm... looks like he is already?"
My cheeks felt hot as I fidgeted with the edge of my sweater. It wasn't long enough to hide the rapidly-yellowing face of my pampers, ridiculously emblazoned with generic muppet characters and large, block letters of various colors. Desperate as I was, I didn't even realize I was piddling myself like a cub.
Dad waved him away with a paw. "Wife's got him on these super absorbent diapers. Those things can take a hit---" He pumped a fist suddenly as the ball sailed across the TV screen and into the paws of a beefy fur who dove shoulders-first into the end zone. "HELL yeah, TOUCHDOWN, BOYS!!!"
The whole room - minus Kevin, of course - erupted into cheers.
"Dude, I'm fine..." I said defensively. "And you don't have to call them that, dad..."
Another wave of cramps hit me and literally brought me to my knees. I pressed my head into the couch and bit down on a knuckle as my stomach spoke to me of how unhappy it was in roiling murmurs.
This is it. Maybe just a--
A wet fart ripped through my diaper just as Bill shouted: "Now what kin'a bullshit is that?!"
My eyes teared up. I didn't think I was gonna make it.
I tried to pass wind again in a vain effort to outlast Dan, but a squirt of nacho-juice slopped into my oversized pampers. Following that, a rush of 'stinkies', as my parents used to call it in my diaper days, slithered into my pants. With nowhere else to go, the mess crept under my taint; I could feel it tickling my scrote.
I sat up onto my footpaws and crouched down. Nothing to lose, at this point.
I grabbed onto my footpaws and grunted as quietly as I could, pushing even more waste into my straining potty pants. As I worked, I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. My canine senses came into full effect, and I could hear a nose sniffing curiously.
"Phew, Rick, I think-" It was Bill, that redneck-ass cowboy tattling asshole. His voice dropped suddenly, as if I wouldn't be able to hear him in my current state of heightened hearing. He continued, "I think yer kid made a hot one in his pants. Might wonna check on 'im, you know?"
My heart hammered in my chest. There I was, squatting to poop like a 2-year-old out of view of my dad and his friends and I was still found out. I poked my head over the arm of the couch with an indignant glare. I mean, c'mon: can't a guy drop one with a little privacy?
Dad's cheetah-friend held his glass beer bottle up at me in what appeared to be some form of drunken congratulations. He was clearly way past his limit. "That's it, tiger!" He slurred, red-nosed. "Stinkin' up jus' like yer old man!"
"Man, Kev, if you aren't a shithead." Dad chuckled. "Did you drop a deuce, J?"
Despite myself, a muffled blrrt signaled with mortifying confirmation the end of my toileting. I remained crouched, too humiliated to speak.
A paw ruffled my headfur from somewhere over the arm of the couch. "Hey, nice one, buddy!" It was Bruno the hyena.
"Ahh..." My dad didn't hide the inconvenience in his voice. "Yep, he's done a poop - great. Think you'll make it to halftime, buddy?"
"I- I-" I crawled out from behind the long arm of the couch, my rear heavy with freshly-packed wolf dirt. My ears were folded in to the extreme, my tail curled inward so far as to come out pointing up between my knees. I whimpered, creeping past dad's closest friends as an apex predator brought low. "Dad...?"
To my surprise, dad patted his knee with a gentleness I hadn't seen since I really was little. After hesitating, I walked on all fours to dad's side of the lounge and sat up to meet him.
He gripped my waist. "Huuup we go--" I gave a small yipe of protest but wasn't in any position to fight him on it. He easily placed me, bridal-style, in his lap, footpaws hanging over his elbow. "There. You can sit here with daddy until halftime."
"Hwooh, Rick, whaddaya'll feed that kid?" Bill complained, holding his nose. "Maybe get 'im a change afore we all keel over?"
"C'mon, Billy, he's not that bad," Dad said. "Besides, I want to see Kev's face when he loses his bet."
The cheetah snickered. "Yeah, okay. Get some defense in there and you just might!" He stood suddenly and made his way, stumbling, around the couch. He squinted at the hallway and mumbled, "Man, did Dan die in there? Fuck, I've gotta whizz, dude."
My dad spoke up, "Well don't pee yourself here, kitty." He reached between my legs and patted my front before saying, "Look, if you really need to, my kid's still pretty dry."
I looked up at my dad in horror. You're really going to volunteer me like that?
Bruno stood up, too. "Man, while we're at it..." He began to unzip his pants.
My ears stood to attention. I looked from Kevin to Bruno and kicked my footpaws in protest, "Dad, I don't--"
Dad pulled a pacifier from somewhere and pushed it into my mouth. I whimpered behind it as he set me on the floor at the foot of the couch.
"Little makeshift," he admitted, "But it'll work. His mom says these things hold for a whole day, so I'm thinking he'll be alright. - Hold it open for your guests, little dude." Dad gestured pulling on the front of my elastic with his own waist.
I _know_I was blushing now. My ears swooped past the sides of my heads and a whimper rang keening deep in my throat. I gingerly peeled back the front of my padding as a cheetah and hyena unzipped themselves and snaked two differently-shaped animal parts through their flies.
I glanced over at Bill who tried to make it not obvious he was groping himself.
As my eyes narrowed in disgust at the coyote across the room, the patter of two rays of urine against my flat tummy tore me from one indignity to another. My senses were confused; I had the stink of a cat and a hyena both pooling in the navel of my tummy with a nose that could sniff out food three towns over.
The strong-smelling piss of two furs travelled down my belly and into the thirsty padding below, gurgling as it filled out an otherwise lightly soggy pocket. My dick throbbed - as much I as I wish it didn't - against the river of pee that flowed against it.
Bruno shook his cock dry over my padding and Kevin, drunk as all hell, pulled his drawers up as soon as done.
"There we go. Put those things to use, huh, Joshy?" Dad cooed. Before I knew it, he lifted me again from under my armpits and turned me around to face him. I was completely humiliated, and he knew it. "It's alright, stinky puppy. We'll get you a change you soon."
He lowered me gently over one of his knees, my legs straddling on either side like one end of a seesaw.
Somewhere in the squishy confines of my maxed-out diaper stirred a boy cock that found arousing what its owner did not. My dick grew as my pamps squelched against daddy's knee.
I yipped in surprise as dad slipped a paw under me and squeeze the pissy mass. He smiled and gave me the slightest of nods.
Like some pet that couldn't help himself, I mounted dad's paw and ran the length of my peen against his palm, feeling the jelly mould itself around my feel goods. He pushed into me, and I suddenly found myself rocking into my own father's hand with a diaper full of stinkies.
As my dick rutted against gel swollen with my dad's friends' piss, I couldn't help but whimper like the runt of the litter finally getting his. I'm pretty sure my tongue was hanging out, if the drool on dad's shoulder was any indication.
It took me a while to realize it, but at some point, someone hit the mute button on the TV and all eyes were on me. At first, I was totally weirded out by all of this - this is weird, right? - but something about being accepted by the pack, even as an omega coming into his own, really drove me on. For a moment, I felt powerful - as powerful as a kid wolf in a loaded diaper on his dad's knee could be, anyway.
I pushed my head into dad's shoulder and bucked vigorously into his paw. He kneaded my rear, puffed and sticky like a bag of melted marshmallows, as I mounted my first mate.
I felt a hoof press encouragingly into my back and looked up. Dan the deer was standing behind the couch and beamed at me. Now he's out of the bathroom, I thought.
"Pup's first breeding, huh Rick?" He quipped before flopping onto an adjacent couch. "That's pretty special."
As my dad and his buddies joked about my aching dick, I was completely taken by different emotions: annoyed that I had to fill my pants because that big, strong deer monopolized the bathroom; literally shivering in what turned into hormonal overdrive; humiliated that everybody was watching me mate my toilet-bag; horny as, well, a horndog with each confusing whiff of some other male's scent.
I loved it.
Dad squeezed the sagged round of my bloated pampers in his paw and grinned at me. "Thatta boy," he said, "show those Huggies who's boss!"
"They're not Huggies, dad!" I grunted over his shoulder. My dick glided in a stream of precum drizzled over what was probably the closest thing to a pussy I'd ever get to fuck. Diaper jelly, mottled yellow and gray, lobed around my member as I pushed through. A sudden rush of slick absorbents along my cock alerted me to the fact that I'd torn right through the inner fabric.
Ahh hell, I thought. The sulfurous, jockey stink of a full poopy soured the already overwhelming ammonia of several species' worth of marked territory with each wild, ecstatic thrust. My dick swelled red and veiny, a pink sausage against the plastic face of my cookie monster undies.
Here's... my... moment!
My eyes rolled back into my head as I filled my piss sack with hot seed that would never know a real vagina. An involuntary howl escaped my maw as I had my way, for the first time, with a warm, pissy hole.
My climax was met with raucous cheering from dad's friends. Panting and obviously disoriented, I glanced at the TV behind me to catch a play-by-play of some score I must have missed.
The television was turned off.
They closed in on me to tussle my hair or pat my back or shoulder. One of them - and I'm not sure who - gave my spongy butt a good rub.
"You're one of the guys now, tiger!"
"Heyyy kiddo, great job!"
"Touchdown, big guy!" My dad said, kissing my forehead. He held out a paw which I sheepishly slapped in a high five. He lifted me, dazed but beaming, from his knee, paws under armpits. "Let's get that stinky butt changed. - We'll be right back, boys!"