24/7!: A Pink and Blue Diaperfur Adventure, Part 2
#3 of Pink and Blue Season 2
24/7! A Pink and Blue Diaperfur Adventure
Part Two of Four
kitncub
[[email protected]](%5C)
Note: This story continues directly from [24/7!: Part One](%5C) . If you haven't read Part One, go there first. I am posting this in four installments during the week for those who want to read a bit at a time. The whole thing will be up by the weekend. So if you want to read it in one sitting, you can just wait until the weekend.
Here is the usual disclaimer:
General Note: This is an 18+ story. So please be 18+, o gentle reader, or else return to studying very, very hard. It involves furs in diapers, who are not babies (physically), and furs in dresses, who are not girls (biologically). It is an adventure/romance story with these elements rather than a straight regression/sissification piece, so it has an involved plot and stuff. It is part of the Pink and Blue diaperfur series, and may be hard to follow if you have not read any of the other stories. Yadda yadda, et cetera et cetera. Don't sue me for not saying any of these things, and don't sue me for anything else, either, because it would make me sad.
Easter egg in this part: First fur who identifies the wolf at6:30 p.m. (no, he's not "me") will get. . . umm . . . something! Like a cookie! Maybe even better! If you know who he is, comment or message me, and if you're right (and first-ish) I'll think of something for you.
And now. . . .
Season Two Opening: Character Recap!
The Baby Blue Boys
Roger. The leader. This playful black Lab is founder of the team and daddy to the Baby Blue boys, and many of them look to him for guidance and emotional support. He has many good traits but one thing he's not is organized . . . usually. Today, he's running a mysterious mission that's bringing him all over town-and hosting a quite important party. Likes: His boys. Water balloons. Squirt guns. Comic books. _Dislikes:_Girls. Telling furs what to do.
Rian. The fun one. Roger's sidekick, Baby Blue's co-founder and second-in-command, best friend to Dex, occasional big brother to Twitchy, and boyfriend to the sissy princess fox Serafina, with whom he is deeply in love. As Roger's partner-in-crime the wolf has come into his own as a natural extrovert who is generous to a fault. The other boys are sure lucky they have Rian to lean on. He has just decided to go full-time in his diapers, and is throwing a party to celebrate! Likes: Serafina. Diapers. Accessories. _Dislikes:_Schoolwork. Contests.
Dex. The serious one. A sensitive raccoon martial artist and the team's third-in-command and combat leader, Dex is in diapers not by choice but in the aftermath of a traumatic tournament injury, a secret known to only a few of the boys. Roger and Rian coaxed the once apathetic coon back out of his shell. Now he's dating Twitchy after coming to terms with his regressive tendencies during a mission to rescue the bunny. If only he could do something to pay back the furs who gave him a new lease on life. Rian is worried that Dex might not be comfortable coming to his party. Likes: Sports. Being outdoors. Feeling useful._Dislikes:_Frills. Meat (he's a vegetarian). Bullies.
Twitchy. The smart one. The nervous, goggle-wearing bunny makes up BB's tech team at Hideout #4 together with his partner, the pocket-sized mouse and gadget engineer Squeak. The bunny is dating Dex after the raccoon stunned the team-and Twitchy-by coming through for him on a daring solo rescue mission. Twitch can fix anything broken . . . maybe. He tried to talk to Rian in advance of the party about Dex. Likes: LEGOs. Computers. Magic tricks. _Dislikes:_Lin Lin. Being talked down to. Having to explain things more than once.
The Girl
Serafina. The naughty one. Once a member of Roger's boy's team, the red fox defected to the pink team long ago after an abortive tryst with Roger and has since become a feminized sissy who thinks of herself as a vixen first. Today, to show solidarity, she's going 24/7 as a girl on the same day her boyfriend, Rian, goes 24/7 with his diapers. Unlike some of her pink teammates, though, Serry is a sissy because she likes guys . . . a bit too much to be one herself. She just got a lead role in a local Shakespeare festival production, and it all feels a bit familiar. She and the director seem to work well together. Likes: Boys in tight diapers. Flowers. Ribbons. Romances. Play-acting. Dislikes: Repression. Overly serious furs. Jealousy.
And "Action!" . . .
The first afternoon! 3 p.m.-Nightfall
3:00 p.m.
"Ka-why . . . desu . . . ne," Roger read off the postcard in his paw, then flipped it over and set it back down on the counter. "That's cute, isn't it?" he translated. "See, I told you I can read some of those squiggly things!"
The tanuki behind the glass display counter frowned up at him. The walls around them were covered with monitors, streaming demos of various soon-to-be-released games in various stages of beta testing. The glass cases were filled with consoles and accessory equipment.
"Kawaii is cute," the tanuki, who still spoke English with a Japanese accent, corrected his pronunciation sternly. "Kauai is an island in Hawaii."
"Well," Roger said, smiling,"it was cute when I was there. Lots of blue!"
The raccoon dog stiffened, bit his lip, and held up one finger as he turned his eyes to the computer screen in front of him as though checking something. Then he looked back up at Roger. "Number 119856?" he asked cryptically.
The dog frowned and counted on his fingers-when he reached the end of them, he started again, but after two tries, shook his head. "Sorry," he said, shrugging.
The tanuki turned the screen, which was mounted on a pivot, around so Roger could see. "Hawaii - Blue," the tanuki pointed at the header at the top of the screen. "Are you the one who placed this order?"
"Oh!" the Labrador answered, his tail beginning to wag when he saw the list that was still scrolling down the monitor. "You meant _that _order!"
**************************
4:00 p.m.
"Serry, I wanted to talk to you about the duel scene," the beaver said without looking up from the memo book in his paw as the dressing room door swung open. "I don't like all the running around and shouting. It's confusing."
The sissy fox gasped and spun around, startled, covering her chest with both quivering paws. "Some of the locks are broken, sorry," Marty continued without looking up from his notes. "Woody called the building about it. I'll knock next time. My paws are usually full, so sometimes I forget. I thought we might try using some kind of . . . escalator-elevator type thing. See, I drew a picture with all of you on it! And I wrote up . . ." He raised his head slowly when Serafina didn't say anything. Her back was to him, but she had just realized, too late, he could see her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall, and the reflection of the padded brassiere lying in front of her on the counter, and whimpered fearfully.
The beaver's eyes narrowed and he withdrew a pencil from behind his ear, looking back down at his notepad and scribbling something. "So . . . You're a boy . . . dressed as a girl . . . playing a girl . . . dressed as a boy," he said thoughtfully after a moment, then seemed absorbed in writing.
"Look, Marty, I'm sorry," she said, sadly, her ears drooping. "It was fun for a couple hours. I'll get my things and go. At least this happened early, right? You have plenty of time to recast."
The beaver finished scribbling, clicked his tongue, and looked back up at the quailing fox. "Will it cause you any trouble if I put what I just said in the press kit?" he asked, smiling.
Serafina blinked and slowly raised her eyes from the ground and slowly lowered her arms from her chest.
"I'm sorry, I wasn't listening before," the beaver said when she didn't answer him. "Did you ask me something?"
"Marty," she said, slowly raising her eyes to look at the beaver's reflection in the mirror. "Half your ideas are . . . Putting an escalator onstage is the stupidest thing I ever heard. You're a total goofball. But you're also . . . not."
Marty blinked and slid his sunglasses back up his muzzle. "Well I don't know what to make of that," he remarked in a chipper tone. "So I'll take it as an okay about your bio?"
The corner of her lip turned up, cautiously, in a smile. "Yes. It's fine, it's no problem for me. You just . . ." She eyed the beaver's reflection in the mirror from head to toe, shivering again, but not, this time, from fear. "You just remind me of someone I used to spend more time with."
**************************
4:05 p.m.
Jay, I'm sorry, but you can come to one after your 18th. Don't worry-we'll save the best for then. Until then I can't give out locations but we're always glad to see you in the gaming group at the store, and talk about whatever.
Roger finished typing and pressed send. Then he returned to his inbox and thumbed through the other text messages on his phone. When he had finished he grinned up at the otter who owned the coffee shop. "Can you put an extra shot in that?" the black Lab said cheerily. "I've been running around town all day. Totally forgot I'm hosting a party tonight! Which reminds me that I need to pick up a whole bunch of garbage bags."
The otter looked at him quizzically and shrugged. Roger was a regular, and he had long since stopped trying to make sense of the dog's non sequiturs.
"The extra shot is on the house. If you promise not to tell me again that it's not as good as it used to be," he said. "It's your own fault. You cost me my best cappuccino maker."
The lab shrugged. "My loss too. But it couldn't be helped. Dex is meant for bigger things. Oh! You can give me a newspaper too. Actually," the dog said, wagging his tail and fishing for his wallet, "I'll take like ten newspapers."
The otter blinked and started to ask a question, but then thought better of it, shook his head, and rang up the sale while Roger collected the papers from the stand and tucked them under his arm.
In five minutes the dog was sitting at a table, resting his elbow on the stack of papers, and blowing on his cappuccino, when his cell phone rang. He eyed the number curiously and flipped it open.
"Hi, Roddy," he said into the phone, stirring his drink. "What's up?"
The lab's ears pricked and his eyes widened slightly as he listened.
"Okay," he said quietly. "It happens. Stay cool, and don't beat yourself up about it. I know it seems like the worst thing right now, but it's really not the end of all days. All of us make mistakes sometimes. I'll put Kyle in touch with you. He had a similar . . . mishap a few months ago, and came out of it okay. Whatever they're saying right off, remember, at least in your case, that they do love you. Keep a low profile and give them a day or two to deal with it though without . . . What?" The dog looked at his watch and gritted his teeth. "No, no, please don't do that! I'm really busy right now and it's also just a very bad idea! I don't even know what you think I could . . ."
The dog winced at a burst of noise from the cell phone and sighed, slumping down on the stack of newspapers in despair.
"Hello," he said into the receiver in a resigned tone, "Mrs. Jensen."
**************************
4:30 p.m.
Rian stood fearfully outside the thrift store, his knees knocking, clutching the large garbage bag in both his paws. It wasn't the store that scared him-he visited it and several others regularly, combing the racks for supplies and any cast-offs that might be useful for himself or his Baby Blue friends, and whatever purchases he made had never raised eyebrows.
But he was suddenly overwhelmed by the magnitude of what he was about to do. He rehearsed the rules he had made in his head: he would still use the bathroom for messing, except on weekends; take chlorophyll every day with his vitamins; bring a bottle of water in his backpack everywhere and keep drinking from it; never leave home without at least two spares, wipes, and a spare pair of rubber pants; always have plastic bags with him since he couldn't know the disposal situation everywhere he might go; don't spend much time alone, which he preferred not to do anyway; and spread the burden of changing out between as many furs as he could. Roger, Serry, Twitchy, and Dex had all volunteered to help, and he was sure others would when he asked at the party.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and, not able to reach around the garbage bag to the door, advanced clumsily, stumbling forward, the entrance to the store swinging open as he staggered through it and over to the clothes donation bin.
Taking a deep breath, the wolf hoisted the bag with all his strength, and watched all the grown-up underwear he owned thud limply on top of a high pile of donated baby clothes.
"Mission," he said to himself with relief as his knees stopped knocking, "accomplished!" He turned around, wiping his paws against each other briskly, and marched to the counter. "I need a receipt please!" he said with pride. It wouldn't be much of a tax deduction, but he would present it to Roger as proof of a job well done, and put it in his scrapbook.
The cashier smiled at the shrimpy wolf, who was wearing a polo shirt and loose-fitting jeans. "Oh hello, Rian," she said. "I almost didn't recognize you. Not wearing anything cute today?"
"Oh!" Rian said, grinning broadly and wagging his tail, giving off a slight crinkle audible only to himself, "But I am!!"
**************************
5:30 p.m.
The genet, sitting in a tree overlooking his vineyard, watched the sun set with satisfaction. The slight mountain cat blinked in surprise as a black Labrador clambered up the trunk and hoisted himself onto the wide, spreading branch beside him. "Sorry I was not down there," the cat remarked in accented English. "I had given up on you!"
"Je m'excuse mille fois, je sais bien que je suis très en retard," Roger said gesturing apologetically. He unzipped his black windbreaker and slid his sunglasses back up his nose, then reached inside his jacket. "Quand même j'ai apporté tous les preuves nécessaires de retirer nos articles. Est-ce que ces tous sont arrivés?"
"Tu parles français maintenant?" the petite spotted mountain cat asked, raising an eyebrow. "Roger?" he switched back to English. "When did you learn to do that? You told me that you never would."
"Did I say that in French?" Roger asked, tilting his head and smiling. "That was weird! Because I don't know any French!"
The genet pointed up and Roger raised his head slowly to look up at the porch of a tree house about six feet above them. From this branch on upwards, wooden grips were nailed into the thick trunk of the tree, making it an easy climb from where they were sitting to the tree house entrance.
"All in there," the spotted mountain cat explained. "Since you impressed the need for absolute security, I did not want to keep them on the ground. I will follow you. You will need two combinations to get in."
"Ooh, this is the best one yet!" Roger exclaimed. "Gênial!"
The cat looked confused. "I thought you said you didn't . . ."
"I don't!" Roger said over his shoulder as he began climbing. "Je viens toutefois de lire tous les numéros d'Astérix," he remarked offhandedly, wagging his tail. "Maybe it's that!"
**************************
6:00 p.m.
The opossum had fallen asleep leaning against the trunk of a cardboard tree.
"When we get it right, people!" the beaver shouted waving his arms above his head. "That's when we can go to the next scene!" He spun and pointed straight at a cougar who was about to say something in protest. The cat bit his tongue and muttered something under his breath. "Finally!" Marty exclaimed, twirling a pencil in his paw and thumping his tail against the stage. "Our Malvolio is starting to look angry!"
He took a deep breath as other members of the crew started to grumble as well. His marsupial partner began snoring loudly. "All right," the director said reluctantly, holding up all the digits on both paws. "Ten minutes!"
"Someone's fiery tonight," the tabby cat, who was sitting cross-legged on the sidelines, remarked, looking up at the beaver as most of the actors wandered backstage.
"Serry?" the beaver said, looking down at him. "She'll turn out to be a find I think. I take full credit for that. Woody didn't want to do it."
The orange feline licked at his forewpaws, grooming. "Not the newbie," he said. "Though I'll admit she's all right. You." He tilted his head and eyed his director curiously. "You don't have a new boy, do you, Marty?"
"Don't be silly," Marty snapped, then began chewing on his pencil. "It's just the material. The play is hard not to be excited about."
"Fine, be that way," the cat purred, flicking his tail against the stage. "You always keep the good ones to yourself."
*************
6:30 p.m.
The bell jangled as the door to the comic shop swung open and Roger stepped inside. A malamute sitting behind the counter and dozing over an open comic book sat up with a start.
"Hi, Byron," the older dog said cheerily. "Did anyfur come by with anything?"
The sled dog bit his lip and looked up with a dazed expression, still blinking himself awake.
Roger groaned. "Did anyfur walk out with anything?" he asked despairingly.
The malamute stared down at the floor ashamed and Roger shook his head. "Forget it, go get ready for the party," he said, clapping the dog on the shoulder. "I know last night was your last night at the restaurant. Better you nod off here than as a lifeguard. Can you just turn on the heat in the back room and shake out the sleeping bag? I think Roddy might need a place to sleep for a couple nights and it's better if it's not my apartment."
The malamute stood up, crinkling, and nuzzled at Roger's paw before padding off drowsily. Roger was starting to close up shop when he noticed an adult gray wolf in a denim jacket standing at one of the shelves and rocking on his heels.
"We're closing," Roger announced. "Can I help you with something?"
The lupine selected a book, adding it to the three under his arm, and turned to face Roger, who caught sight of a gold earring in his right ear.
"Sleeping bag, huh? That sounds comfy. You know, in eighteenth-century Britain," the wolf remarked vaguely as he approached the counter and held out his choices for Roger's inspection, "booksellers used to do a lot of small, but important favors for their loyal customers. Receiving mail for people, that was a big one, when they were traveling, or just in the name of privacy - postal offices couldn't be trusted to hold things yet."
"Huh?" Roger blinked. "Why did you say that?" he asked suspiciously.
The wolf shrugged. "You sell books here, among other things. I thought you might find it interesting."
"You have both a boy and a girl, I guess," Roger remarked, changing the subject, as he looked over the lupine's selections and rang up the sale. "Did you find everything you were looking for?"
"Oh yes." The wolf smiled. "A couple Christmases ago."
The Labrador looked at him oddly. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't really look or sound like you belong here."
The wolf frowned and rubbed his thumb back and forth against the inside of his fingers thoughtfully. "I get that a lot. They eventually said the same thing at Trinity College. We're just in town on a layover. Missed a connection because of a security hold-up." He held up a finger and shook it at Roger in warning. "I don't know where else is on _your_list, but do not ever visit Cambodia. Once that's on your passport you have problems at every airport. Government conspiracy, I'm sure."
"I . . . wasn't planning on it," Roger blinked and took the strange wolf's credit card and swiped it. "Do you need any advice on how to pass the time while you're in town?"
"Nah," the wolf chuckled. "I've seen enough to think anything I did in this place would probably be superfluous. Oh, I almost forgot why I came to this store, though."
He reached into the pocket of his jacket with one paw as he took his card back in the other, and produced a water pistol with an extended nozzle and an attachable water cartridge, setting it on the counter. "Is this yours? My boyfriend picked it up on our last stop. Based on where, I guess you dropped it from an overlook. It's monogrammed with a name and address, so I thought, maybe it's a keepsake, or something, and well-next thing you know we're here," he shrugged. "Might as well make it for a reason."
Roger looked down at the squirt gun and took it in his paw. "Hey! I did drop this . . ." he looked up, but the bell jangled as the door swung shut behind the wolf, who was already gone. The Lab concluded, puzzled, "A really, really long way away from here. And you forgot your receipt . . ."
Byron trudged back into the front of the store, yawning and rubbing his eyes with the back of both paws. "I brought you a coffee, By," Roger said gently. "You don't want to sleep through the party. And if you're planning on it, trust me, Rian won't let you. Can you do one last thing while I close up?"
The malamute tilted his head.
"Find some cardboard and markers and make a temporary sign for the back room," Roger proposed. "It should say something like . . . 'Bag check and package deliveries.'"
*******************
Nightfall
"Hey Ace, hey Jax!" Kyle the Dalmatian waved to the approaching cat and dog pair. The team's two wilderness patrol leaders fell into step with the group. Jax, a tracking hound wearing his Boy Scout sash over his clothes, waved, and Ace, a lynx in a Safari outfit, who was leaning on his partner's shoulder and walking stiff-legged, almost as though he were waddling, just muttered something.
Kyle turned back to the wolf. The two were at the center of a small knot of boys making their way through the street together toward Roger's apartment; some had set out with buddies, and others had fallen into the group as it slowly made its way across town.
"How about you, Rian?" the dog asked. "Will you go back home for Memorial Day or just the Fourth of July?"
The wolf's ears drooped slightly. "Oh," he said uncertainly, "I'm spending Memorial Day with Roger! There'll be so much clean up to do after all the School's Out games and celebrations! I'm still trying to sell him on adding a You're Not Graduating from Diapers ceremony to the schedule. He definitely won't be able to do without me! But for the Fourth everyfur is gone and Serry will be performing the whole weekend so I'll probably see one of her shows and then I'll just be. . ."
"He'll be driving out with me to my folks'," interrupted the raccoon in his karate uniform as he fell into step with them. He clapped a paw on the shrimpy wolf's shoulder. "I had to fight to maneuver him out there. But what can you do? It's not easy to get on Mr. Popular's calendar these days."
When Rian looked back over his shoulder, Dex smiled down at the shorter fur and added, "Yo," belatedly. There were paintball splatters on Dex's uniform, and his headfur and whiskers looked a bit frazzled, with a few leaves clinging to his ears.
"Dex!" Rian exclaimed, his eyes swelling up. "I didn't know if you were going to come to the party with Ace and Jax or not!"
"I wasn't going to," the coon said nonchalantly. "Too many financial aid forms to fill out still. But . . . " he paused, blushing a little, before concluding softly, "But Twitch said you needed me around."
*******************
7:00 p.m.
"Twitchy!" said Roger, looking out of the kitchen and pointing one finger on each paw at the rabbit as the door swung shut behind him. "I have no food. Byron ran to the grocery store to get some chips and soda."
"What?" the rabbit exclaimed. "How could you let that happen!"
"Squeak!" echoed the pocket-sized mouse on Twitchy's shoulder, shaking his head.
Roger frowned. "I've been busy!" he said defensively, then vanished into the kitchen. Twitchy heard the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing at random. As he listened, he looked down at the open newspapers spread out on the floor around the couch-they covered almost the entire carpet.
After several minutes the Labrador reappeared with boxes clutched in his arms.
"I have mixes for stuff!" He listed them as he tossed the boxes to the rabbit, who fumbled and hopped around to catch each of them. "Angel food bars. Sponge cake. Vanilla frosting. Sugar cookies. What do you think? Considering the occasion, I thought it would be fun to have a lot of white, fluffy foods."
Twitchy, his arms full, stared up at his commanding officer apprehensively. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, his foot beginning to tap. "Isn't this the sort of thing you can run next door and ask your sister for help with?"
Roger shuddered involuntarily and clapped his paws over his stomach. "Trust me, that," he said, holding one paw up and wagging it at the rabbit, "is a really bad idea. Besides, you work with lab equipment and stuff . . ." The dog's eyes narrowed and he stared at the bunny, as though daring him, "Don't you?"
"Right," Twitchy took a deep breath and, managing to get one paw loose, reached up for the goggles settled on his forehead, gritted his teeth, and-something he only did on his most dangerous assignments-snapped them down over his eyes. "How hard could this be?"
"Squeeeak," said the mouse seated on his shoulder nervously.
*******************
7:45 p.m. Backstage.
"What is it now, Woody?" The beaver fidgeted with his beret as he turned away from the mirror, then started as he faced the door. "Serry!" he frowned. "Go eat pizza and mingle with the others. You're not scared of Garrick, are you?" He waved a paw. "Don't be! This is my fourth show with him and it's always the same. He's only fighting with you because he likes you enough to think you can take it. It means he'll really hash through the lines with you on stage. He doesn't do that often-" The beaver looked at her meaningfully. "With a girl. Speaking of which, we will have to tell the others eventually. We're all a family, for the length of the show anyway. I'll follow your lead, but sooner is better."
The fox moved her footpaw in a circle and clasped her forepaws behind her back. "I'll do it tomorrow. I just wanted to say thanks," she said hesitantly. "For being understanding about me."
The beaver reached for a pencil and turned back to the stage diagram he had been doodling. "You're welcome," he answered.
"I think you and I are . . . a good team." Serafina said. "I used to work with someone a lot like you. I miss it, sometimes. I'll always wonder if that could have turned out differently."
The beaver, who was trying to ignore her, kept scribbling and reached backward over his shoulder to wave a paw shooing her away. "I'll come by with notes for you after we're all finished," he said, sounding distracted. "I like what you did with the ending. But you play the shipwreck at the start too melodramatic. You need to give people a chance to ease into the world a little bit. I'm still thinking about the rest. Right now your pizza's getting cold."
"You don't have a bad side, do you, Marty?" she asked. "You aren't going to put your sunglasses back on after we wrap up for the night and press me for some sort of . . . special favor? In return for keeping me on?"
The beaver raised his eyes to look at her reflection in the mirror, and saw the flush in the sissy fox's cheeks. He furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Why?" he said cautiously. "Do you want me to?"
To be continued. . .
Next time: T minus zero . . . Rian's 24/7 party is on! The wolf is determined to make it a celebration everyone will remember.
( Comments welcome, whether here , via [PM](%5C) or, at [[email protected]](%5C) . If you think you know the wolf at 6:30 p.m., feel free to lemme know! )