FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Wesley, Kyrie, Lugo, Lasmo, and Sahasrahla got cleaned up after their two respective parking garage encounters. Lugo the muscular wolf and Kyrie the kinky fennec had sandwiched Wesley, cock-to-ass and cock-to-pussy, after he had messed his diaper and Kyrie had pissed on the floor in heat.

Lasmo the shark had taken Sahasrahla, the skink, in her cloaca after she'd wet her own mediocre store-generic diaper.

It all served as a refresher and a reset button, and they showered together in an employee locker room that had been installed after the Ferris-Chalmpers, LLC parking garage had become the site of more than a few casual encounters.

Next step was suckering the company into installing non-porous mats for dirty and comfortable fun.

They all walked out in the gear they were originally wearing: Kyrie in a devil-red latex suit, Wes in a cowboy outfit with only chaps and a bandana-pattern diaper, Lasmo in a basketball jersey, jockstrap, and poop-sock (empty), Sahasrahla in a cheerleading outfit and a proper adult diaper, and Lugo in his office clothes. He even wore regular tightie-whities.

Wes stopped the group and pulled Kyrie against his shoulder, facing the rest.

"Dude, we got a big announcement," Wes the coyote said, holding Kyrie's paws.

Lugo knew it was an engagement; he'd figured it out when Wesley refused for Lugo to fuck Kyrie directly.

"But we wanna tell you over dinner, drinks, and dirty dancing!" Kyrie said.

Everyone looked at Lugo with happy, perky grins with shining spiked predator teeth.

Lugo felt the weight of adulthood and marriage lean on him like a concrete pillar. Such wonderful convictions were incredibly heavy machines when they weren't working

Similarly, motorcycles were awesome until they tipped over.

"My dudes, you know I love you," Lugo said, and he saw all their smiles fall. "But I'm a committed wuff and mio husbando is having one of his thunderstorm days."

The crowd fell silent; they knew that Kioga was the only one of them that actually had any bathroom problems, and on top of that seemed to be incontinent with depression.

Wes, however, decided to be the badguy, and sauntered forward with his red bandana diaper crinkling. "Lugo, chief, buckaroo, he's a big boy. He can change his own diaper! Besides, didn't you say he called in today because that new game from Fuccboi North came out last Friday?"

"What's your point?"

The crowd was hesitant to turn on Wesley, as he was making salient points. Wes continued to be the bearer of bad news. "Let's not forget that ignoring a messy diaper does not eliminate its stink. Dude, bro, you already complained that Kioga's an addict. He's a great guy and we all work with him and we love him, but Kioga is Kioga. You know that if you go home tonight it's going to be you, on the couch, playing Mario-Mario Party, alone, on the Switcharoo, which has controllers smaller than your thumbs."

Lugo felt his body swell, his hackles billowing out his shirt to monstrous, werewolf proportions. Their audience shied away.

"And I wouldn't be happier," the wolf growled.

"Why don't you bring the Switcharoo out drinking?" Kyrie interjected, her fennec ears perked.

Wes waddled in close and, despite the wolf's bared teeth, nudged Lugo's elbow.

Lugo did not eat him.

"And besides, you can be the baby of the group. We'll dress you up in booties, a sailor suit, whatever, and feed you num-num steak bites. We'll put your boozies in a sippy cup and, if you get a little soggy, I'll change you myself. I'm sure these lunatics will help you," he said.

The majestic coyote diplomat got three enthusiastic nods.

Lugo found his tail wagging. "I expected no less from you. Even you two newbies?" he asked the shark and skink.

Sahasrahlaproudly puffed out her chest and Lasmo grinned, flashing his serrated teeth. "Why not? Sounds fun. But you guys really gotta help me if wolfie makes boom-boom."

"Breathe through your mouth," Kyrie said, sashaying forward. The latex in her crotch rode up around her pussy lips, which were puffy even after Wes had nailed her. A dark patch indicated she was leaking his puppy-batter. "I'll nurse you, big boy!"

Lugo's fur and another extremity stood on end. Kyrie was such a vixenista.

Then Lugo said, "Look, that is all marvelous, guys, but I promised date night, and I've got a sick kitten, and this is late notice, and how about we rain check for tomorrow?"

"We'll be hungover tomorrow," said Kyrie.

"Can't you alchys hold it in for one day?" Lugo groaned.

"That's what the diapers are for, dumbass!"

"Yeah, maybe to squeeze back into your dehydrated brains. How hard are you going to make it for me to say no?"

"Until you say yes!"

"Sure, fuck me until I love it," Lugo said.

"I mean, we have before!"

"Yes, yes, I got into this whole ABDL-fetish mess because of bullying and a frat prank. We've all made terrible mistakes; heavy burdens we carry on our shoulders and in our diapers. Answer is no."

~~~

Then the four left without Lugo, and every giggle, every clack of high heel and leather shoe was a tug from an invisible leash.

Wes, the crazy bastard, had gotten a used, but amazing, Furoti Testawoossa sport sedan, capable of hauling five adults around a race track at nearly two hundred miles per hour.

Wesley's incredible success inspired Lugo; but to hear everyone giggle and gasp as the coyote remotely started the thing, to hear it scream to life like a dragon bursting from the Earth, to see the taillights and rear light bar light up in a giant O W O, and to see flashes of funwear, of Wes's red bandanna diaper shift around his butt, to seek Kyrie's perpetual, leaking front-wedgie, to hear the tires peel out and to smell their burnt rubber as four friends laughed and put on the latest viral nursery song; Lugo suddenly felt as though he was in a kennel in the middle of a dog park, while all the others, feral and anthro, romped free.

As the sedan squealed out of the parking garage, its occupants roaring and laughing, Lugo let out a low howl.

~~~

"They're just gonna get drunk and piss their pants, and/or mess their diapers, just like Key and I do at home. No problem," Lugo told himself, fidgeting with the worn leather steering wheel. "Except I'll be doing it for a fifth, or even a tenth the price! Who's the reckless toddler now, eh?"

Lugo drove a five year-old BWV, a German SUV by the company Blumpferwulf. It had been nice when new, now it was okay, and the bills to maintain this precision driving machine were getting obnoxious like recurring fleas.

The next step down for a wolf, working in a seventy-story skyscraper, in the center of Puerto Panuela, for a multinational advertising firm, was a brand new compact car.

All the regular cars were trying to be luxury-ish, and so the cost of entry was either a shiny shitbox or a used car that'd been abused worse than a basement sex slave.

In levels of derision, showing up to work in a bib, booties, a cock pacifier, a bonnet, and a loaded diaper was about a 3/7.

Showing up in a compact car was an 8.

"Just don't want another crazy night out, is all," Lugo said as if he was still talking to them. "The drinks are overpriced, I can cook a better steak at home, and we get kicked out of every dance hall because someone always has to flood their diaper and no, I will not condone for diapers to be openly-worn in non-sanctioned public places; there is no such thing as 'systemic diaperphobia' because they are, at their core, a sanitary garment and people, naturally, are averse to questionably-sanitary items because with bad sanitation comes disease, and disease can kill you, and for fuck's sake will you stop using the suffix '-phobia' as a shield for your fetishes?!"

Lugo took a breath.

"They're perfectly fine medical garments. To be worn under pants. In secret."

Wes and Kyrie acted like spoiled babies sometimes, and Lugo loved spoiling them. Lugo loved it less when they demanded spoils from the general public, those bi-weekly events where, handcuffed and still drunk as police officers escorted them pantsless out of dance halls, diapers wagging and sagging, those brats would call up their high-powered lawyer friends and demand the place be shut down.

One time, a ringing cellphone hit the back of Kyrie's head, and that very lawyer strolled out of the club with his arms crossed.

"I'm the one that called the cops on you dipshits," the lawyer said. "Officer, if you'll check, um, the male coyote's diaper, they stole a patron's copy of Stalin was a Feminist just so they could defecate on it."

Wes had attempted, with his hands behind his back, to post his "oppression" on social media. Lugo had snatched his phone, which was streaked in shit because of course he'd messed, and threw it into the nearby river.

Fortunately, the blowback from these social media and legal clusterfucks was generally positive for the clubs, who received increased business from dancers that were thankful the club kept a modicum of order, even if the stalls had gloryholes, the lewd artwork on the walls was decidedly young, and the staff was seemingly blind to the "candy bowls" floating around the backrooms.

See, if someone shit their panties from an overdose, that was just a good time. If someone wore a protective medical garment and shit their pants, it was premeditated.

Lugo felt his fur bristle as he drove to their new apartment, which kept getting further and further from work. Now it was in a suburb with a lot of compact cars and mediocre, ancient sedans that had been built in Lugo's childhood, often occupied with entire families. These were people that went to discount grocery stores and to bars that served, gasp, domestic beer.

"Piss water!" Kioga had complained, "Might as well pour it directly into your diaper!"

"Dude, don't be shitty," Lugo told himself while driving. "Poorphobic or something," the thick wolf added, giggling. "You were poor once, too. Now you're just overburdened with bills."

Born and raised in Countryville, USA, Lugo Perry had a stay-at-home mom, five brothers, and a father that worked out at the local machine shop making camshafts for BWV cars that came from Germany, were assembled in Wisconsin, and then sold from Florida car dealerships that were attached to golf courses.

"The camshaft's the only thing reliable on those over-engineered pieces of luxury crap!" Lugo's dad had said, "I swear that rich folk only complicate things: cars, houses, food, beer; in order to draw a fancy line between them and the poor folk that change their silk-lined diapers!"

Lugo's father used diaper metaphors ever since Lugo had been wearing them as a cub, using them as an indicator of "personal failure" or "irresponsible laziness."

One year, Lugo didn't make the football team: he'd spent his summer outdoors with way too much cardio and not enough weight training. Too skinny, and Lugo couldn't kick a ball to save his life.

When the Junior-High youth came home holding back tears, his dad comforted him by saying, "Hey, sport. So you shit your pants. But I'm not changing your diaper."

When 16-year-old Lugo crashed his beater car and had to sell it because it was uninsured due to high rates he didn't want to spend, Lugo's dad said, "If you knew you were going to shit yourself, you should have worn a diaper."

Constantly exposed to such language that made the garment taboo, it was little wonder that a seed had been planted in him.

Lugo sighed, and his car bumped over a pothole as it entered the more humble suburb village of Leakguard.

Leakguard: appropriate name. The city of Puerto Panuela was the core absorbent lining, and Leakguard caught the piddles of society that Puerto couldn't hold, wicking them away from the financial undercarriage (as to prevent poverty rash) and redirecting them to the dry county seat.

Hmm. There was a metaphor there for the really shitty people of society; they weighed down the whole thing and clung tenaciously, making everything a mucky mess.

Lugo hit a second pothole and his Check Engine light came on. The wolf growled, took a Sharpie, and blacked it out.

"Heh," Lugo grumbled. "Now you're working 70 hours with your ass in a chair, muscles shrinking and belly growing, racing against rising costs of living. It'll just take a few more promotions, just more tasks, more stakes, more stress to keep up. But that's okay; you traded a humble life in a boring farm town for the glitz and glamor of the city, three hundred percent more LED lighting, hard shiny stone floors, and only the most artisan and auteur restaurants for you! You may have ostracized your family and high school friends with a weird fetish, but it's okay because your husband loves you and--"

His phone blooped.

Lugo checked the text; it was from Kioga.

The first part read, "Lugie, these last two months have been a blur and--"

Aww. How sweet. It was wonderful to be appreciated as a husband.

Lugo smiled.

It continued, "--I haven't been keeping the best track of our supplies, either medical or grocery, and I'm still feeling shaky, also a little buzzed--"

"God damn it!" Lugo howled, pounding on the steering wheel. His BWV swerved and he caught it before it hit a guardrail.

Had his window been rolled down, the phone would have flown.

"So could you do a total restock? I had to wipe with paper towels, those are gone, and my diaper-fur is so chafed uwu;;;;"

Lugo took a long breath and considered picking up smoking.

"It's just the incontinence, buddy," he told himself. "Sometimes it gnaws at him, sometimes he stumbles. Through sickness and in health, Lugo! You vowed it, buckaroo! He's living with a disease, and sometimes gets dragged into a fugue state of isolative depression."

Lugo frowned and tightened his grip on the wheel.

"Now it's your disease."

~~~

Lugo flipped through his phone as he entered their local Leakguard pharmacy. It was one of the few non-franchise places left. Normally, Lugo didn't make a distinction between local and national--he wasn't that politically nor civically-minded--but when it came to his and Kioga's favorite watersport, the equipment mattered.

CVS, Walgreens, and Walmart attempted to reverse Abraham Lincoln's famous phrase: please all the people all the time. Their result, especially in the realm of diapers, was meager appeasement.

"Dude, store generics are like tissues for your butt," Kioga said. "Don't even use the tapes, just hold it up and blow. And Depend is good for ONE cock-sneeze."

This pharmacy in Leakguard, however, named "Pistoli's Pharmacy" for its owner, a golden eagle named Joseph Pistoli, would custom-order any medical supplies his customers requested, and was able to get a good discount because he had family members in the shipping industry that would drive home to Leakguard with his orders.

When the first run of ABDL diapers hit his shelves, Korean bootlegs with two-gallon absorbency and prints of wooden alphabet blocks and copyrighted cartoon/video game characters, there had been a bit of an uproar in the community.

"Roleplaying as a baby encourages pedophilia!" was the normal complaint.

"Hey," said Joe, "these are diapers for adults; I don't see how they fit kids. Kids aren't adults; otherwise I'd have mine working in my store. I just buy the diapers because people buy the diapers. Now if I see condoms and Pampers go across my cashier counter at the same time, then I call the police, okay? Jesus Christ, you sensationalists."

"Mussolini was a babyfur!"

"Aaaaah, come on!" roared the golden eagle. "You shit on the dead, might as well wipe with their burial clothes. Mussolini was my great-grandmother's second cousin; we hated him back then, too!"

Joe was a great guy.

"Hey, Lugo, my bulletproof wolf-puppy, how are ya?" greeted the stocky eagle as the wolf sauntered in on this exhausting Friday night. "Coming for the usual order? You're about a week early."

"Need the whole nursery box," answered Lugo. "Supplies are dry."

"Got plenty in the back, my friend; I can ring you up now. What's the discount I've been givin' ya? Five percent?"

"I'll take whatever you can give me."

"I'll charge ya double, then the next order's free."

The eagle was everyone's Italian father. Lugo didn't know whether he was forty, fifty, or seventy, but he had the energy of a thirty year-old and the wisdom of someone in their eighties. Robust was a great way to describe him; he probably drank straight homemade marinara in the morning.

Lugo stared at the older male at the cash register. The bird had a thick mustache that grew out on either side of his beak, and his eyes shined like pure crystal spheres. Lugo could see right back to the retinas. He wore an apron over slacks and a shirt, which bulged out slightly from a stomach.

"Eeeeeh, I gotcha!" Joe finally said.

Lugo laughed it off, waving a paw. "You're ridiculous, Joey."

"Joey's my hatchlings," Pistoli said, "now get your supplies so you can get back to your hatchling, eh?"

Lugo swiped his credit card and then went on back for the box. On their own, the supplies were about $300; Joe was pretty skillful to collect them and sell them at $225.

Still hurt the wallet, though. Lugo grabbed one of the boxes, labled "Pistoli's Prep-Kit for the Bladder and Bowel Loquacious--ABDL Variety, for the Kid in All Us."

It contained a month's supply of printed diapers, diaper booster inserts, charcoal tabs, four scents of baby powder, rash cream, and a cheap set of shears to keep the butt-fur short.

Lugo bought one of these every month, sometimes more.

Then there were Kioga's pills, for all sorts of stomach maladies, vitamins for a healthy coat, vitamins for weight gain, vitamins for bone health ...

The eagle tossed them all into a bag and rang Lugo up again. "Phew, phew. Hardly need groceries with this amount of pills. You gonna start a pharmacy of your own?" he asked with a grin.

"I wouldn't want to see you on the street, old bird!" said Lugo as he swiped his card again.

"Goes double for you, you stinky pup!" said Joe, pinching his beak's nostrils and waving a wing in front of him.

They shared a laugh and then Lugo hauled his supplies out to the car.

Loading up the back, the wolf indulged the morbid question and pulled out his phone again, going to his budget spreadsheet.

He folded his ears and slammed the rear gate.

The numbers added up and Lugo snarled. "Without all this diaper shit, I could be driving a new Awoodi. I am literally sacrificing my life for--"

The wolf's knuckles cracked as he took a deep breath.

"Do not get angry at your husband for being sick," he told himself. "In sickness and in health."

~~~

Lugo stopped by a local pizza shop, Giuseppe Pistoli's "Big Caligula's Toasty and Prompt Fast-Style Pizzeria" (definitely not a knock-off of a more famous chain) and grabbed Kioga's favorites, knowing the cheetah would eat one of everything and then be done.

Lugo would save the rest for his meals throughout the week, then deal with the cheese constipation with laxative and diaper-time.

Feeling the drunkenness of fatigue set in, the wolf was happy and ready to go home and either watch Kioga play video games, or ...

His ears dropped.

Or play Mario-Mario Party on the Switcharoo, as Kyrie said, with its teensy controllers that were smaller than his fucking thumbs.

The wolf smacked the steering wheel as he drove, shaking himself out of it.

"Keep the sogginess out of your heart and in the diaper, puppy. It's just a bad day, you have a poopy attitude that needs changing; good days will be all the more wonderful."

That cheese from Pistoli's Pizza was smelling so good.

And Lugo forgot Kioga's lactose intolerance pills.

"God damn it!" Lugo roared, punching his steering wheel again, then countersteering as he nearly hit a compact car.

~~~

"Hey, buddy, I don't think you'll fit on the changing table!" Joe said as Lugo stomped back into the store.

"Heh, still funny," Lugo said, "just forgot something."

The wolf grabbed the pills and tossed them across the store. Joe caught them in a small plastic bag and had him rung up before Lugo could get back to the register.

"Hey, this is on the house, okay?" said the golden eagle. "You bought my brother's pizza. You are such a good boy, Lugo."

The act of kindness wasn't lost on Lugo. "Thanks, man."

"Hey, you gonna get Kioga checked out?" the eagle interjected. "Even though you're putting my kids through business school--we're gonna open a fur and scale salon--I don't think a fur of any build should be pumping that many pharmaceuticals through his body, even if most of it ends up in the diaper."

"I'll talk to him," Lugo said.

A small part of him wanted to collapse into the eagle's wings and bawl like a baby.

The eagle nodded, putting a wing on the wolf's shoulder. "You have a good night, all right, my friend?"

"Sure," Lugo said. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"The training potty don't flush, remember?"

Lugo glared at Joe. "I think I can use the big boy toilet."

"Oookay, just don't fall in, capiche?"

~~~

Lugo was getting a stress headache and it just wasn't fun. He checked his watch on the way back to Pistoli's pisser and his arm vibrated from just how exhausted he was.

It was already 8:00 PM, and Lugo had left work at 5:15 PM.

No fun time in between.

With all this driving and traffic and shopping everywhere, he wasn't going to have a night at all. He just hoped he'd have the energy to calm down and play a video game; get some time to himself!

The wolf made it to the public bathroom and breathed a sigh of relief. He stepped up to the urinal, unzipped his pants, then fished around the front of his briefs until he made it to his sheath, then fished around in that until he could pull his cock out of all its soft confines.

He wiggled the warm, thick, heavy fleshy worm and took a wide stance. Urine soon shot from the tip, then kept on going, washing into the bowl and yellowing the little pool of water at the bottom.

"This is how all the greats did it, buddy," he told himself, "hard work and healthy faith in what you believe in. Keep tunneling through the mountain. Even if every day feels like only a few feet of progress, you're gonna look back and see just how far you've come."

A diaper was fun and all, but a long, standing pee couldn't be counted out. Lugo relaxed and looked up at the ceiling, bladder still emptying and piss still washing the bowl, filling it up.

'course, the nice thing about a diaper was that it always waited for you. It did all the work for you; no need to stop in the middle of a long project or an all-night party, you just kept going until it got really hard to walk, then you swapped it out and kept on going.

It was like a gas tank on a car: awesome for long hauls, an improvement overall to life.

Lugo softly moaned and stroked his stomach, rocking on his feet as he continued squeezing out his bladder. He relaxed, not quite noticing his tail lifting up, and he shivered as a chill went up his spine.

Things were just so peaceful.

He felt a pulse, a tightness in the back of his pelvis, so he followed his body's requests and gave it a little push. There was some resistance and there was a lot back there, apparently, so he grunted and pushed harder.

There was a poot and a squish, something solid coming out and coming out some more: a long, wet, warm snake.

His stream into the urinal sputtered, then it picked up speed.

Lugo heard a couple of loud, vibrating sounds come from the back of him, and he pushed some more. He felt a little tightness in the leg bands of his underwear, and then recognizable warmth of a soft, moist bundle piling up beneath his buttocks.

He felt the tip of a log pinch off, and his nose pulsed as the familiar scent of old, delicious meals mixed with a raw ripeness filled the area around him. The wolf pushed again and his underwear sagged further, the back under his tail loaded with a few steaming pounds of wolf turds.

Lugo's heart exploded and his eyes snapped open.

Lugo looked down at his cock, naked and dripping, then with a trembling paw reached back and felt the seat of his pants. It was lumpy and a wet spot was already forming in the center. Without a toilet bowl's water or a diaper's protective seal, he was met with the stink of raw, hot, fresh carnivore feces.

He'd shit his fucking underwear.

It wasn't just some accidental skidmark, it was an entire day's worth of meals. Everything he'd eaten today and digested was now piled up in a thick, heavy coil in the back of his undies.

In a panic, Lugo worked to make himself decent, but his cock was rock hard from the sticky, stinky mess he'd made. He felt it cling to his rear end, long sticky smears from his ring to his buttcheeks, and every step made it squish and spread out.

The bathroom door burst open and Joe Pistoli whistled himself to the sink.

"Hey Lugo, I'm about to--Jesus, Marie, and Joseph!" he exclaimed. The golden eagle coughed into his wing, the other one flapping desperately as he'd walked straight into a sewer exhaust. "What the fuck did you--Lugo, did you shit your pants?!"

Lugo turned his head, keeping his hard cock pointed at the urinal.

His tail tried to hide between his legs, which squished the mess all the more across his filthy cheeks.

"Mother, Mary of Pearl, you did shit your pants! Oh my God, is this a fetish for you, is this what you ABDL people do in your spare time?"

"Mister Pistoli, I--"

Joe put up his wings.

"Look, buddy, I don't want to know. Yougotta get out of my store. And you gotta find a new

one, too, because this is too much; it's too much! I'll see you in a couple of months. Buy my entire ABDL stock, 0% APR if you pay me in six months."

"I'm sorry, sir, I just--" Lugo stammered, and in his panic he'd turned around, showing off his nine inches of throbbing wolfhood.

"I said out right now!" the eagle shouted. He gestured with one of his wings, with the other balled into a feathery fist.

Lugo was about to leave, but he smelt something in the air. It was almost musk, but certainly not from any mammal he was familiar with...

The wolf grinned, suddenly feeling like sashaying with a load in his pants.

"You kinda like this, don't you?" he said, sauntering up to the eagle. "You're kinda curious about naughty bathroom time.

Joe the stocky eagle leaned up against the sink, feathered chest heaving in and out. "Now I don't know where you're getting that idea. If I'd known the ABDL stuff was so filthy I'd never have bought--"

"It's not," Lugo interrupted, "Some of us take it one step further."

If the eagle had given him a straight "no" or "stop," Lugo would have left, or at the very least helped him clean up the little droplets of mess that were falling from the back of his pants to the bathroom floor.

But Joe, the older golden eagle, sassy and robust, a sexy stocky frame, didn't say none of that as Lugo leaned in and kissed the eagle on the beak, the other paw stroking the male's slightly paunchy stomach.

"I could get pink eye!" Joe said, his legs spread and his talons curling.

"Oh, if only you knew a pharmacist," the wolf murred. "So how 'bout you try it yourself?"

"I ain't doing nothing!" Joe said, chirping as Lugo's paw went south and groped his cloaca through his trousers.

"Give me a load of fertilizer right in your pants, Joe," insisted Lugo.

Joe put two wings against Lugo's chest and shoved him back. The wolf stumbled, exposed cock waggling, and his back hit the bathroom door. The mess squished across his entire backside, making him leak pre.

"Now you slow down, you crazy wolf," the eagle said, then coughed into his wing. "Boy, you stink."

"I can leave, sir. I'm really--"

"No, no, you wait right here; I'm interested now," Joe said, wings crossed.

"Scat, you sure?" Lugo asked.

"Maybe not directly, but, eh, I've worn the ABDL diapers. Sometimes you wanna try the merchandise. Let's get fucked up."

Lugo gestured down. "It ain't gonna suck itself."

Joe shook his head. He was at least twenty years older than Lugo; it was strangely hot to have a wiser, older male he respected be looking at him in lust. "Yeah, but it's right next to your dump heap. How's about this. I take some laxatives and you fuck me."

Lugo's cock spurted. It'd been a while since he'd done something without diapers. "Can I leave my underwear on?"

"Oh, you'd better," said Joe, walking up to Lugo. The golden eagle kissed the wolf on the mouth, the beak firm but flexible, and wrapped a wing around to squish his lumpy pants back up against him. "You're gonna stew in that."

"W-with pleasure," the wolf murred.

Joe kissed his nose again, then kissed his chest, then when he got to Lugo's pants he took his beak and ripped the front open, then ripped open the flaps of his underwear, exposing Lugo's heavy, egg-shaped balls.

"There, you won't be needing those anymore. You're my slut for the next hour."

Lugo's cock jumped again, spurting pre all over the front of the eagle's apron.

"Y-yes sir."

The eagle continued, using his beak to rip out holes in the chest of Lugo's shirt and undershirt, revealing his thick muscled pects and erect nipples, which Joe promptly licked and sucked while groping the messy, warm, stinking saggy bulge under his tail.

"There. Now you're my filthy gay bitch."

Lugo moaned as Joe squeezed hard, smearing the muck as a feather finger prodded his hole.

~~~

Lugo waddled after the eagle, who kept glancing back at his exposed chest and cock as Joe checked the store. Closed.

The eagle led him to a secret break room and opened up the futon, then tossed a plastic sheet over it. Joe grinned as he popped a bottle of liquid laxative, chugged it, then tossed it over his shoulder.

He grabbed Lugo's cock before the bottle shattered on the wall.

"All right," he said, "Make me happy and I'll get you a big discount."

"O-okay," murred Lugo, then leaned in for a kiss. Pistoli stopped him and pointed down. "Uh-uh. Only good boys get Pistoli's kisser. You get Pistoli's pisser."

Lugo nodded, then worked as he always did on a male. After pulling off the eagle's apron, he undid Joe's shirt, kissing his chest as he did so. Then came off the undershirt, and he searched for nipples.

Those didn't exist, but Joe still had some soft, muscle-and-pudge pects he could squeeze.

"You ain't going to milk me, puppy; keep going."

Lugo shivered as he felt his mess shift against his ass. A chunk of it fell out of the leg band and rolled into his trouser leg; he was already missing his diapers.

"Aww yeah, that's the stuff."

Lugo briefly looked up after nuzzling Joe's belly. The eagle was looking straight across: Lugo looked behind him and found a tall dressing mirror; found his brown-stained saggy, lumpy rump in perfect view.

The wolf blushed hard in the ears and worked Joe's belt open. He heard a grumble from the eagle's belly up north.

Shit, shit, shit.

Lugo worked faster, undoing the stocky eagle's trousers and working them down his thighs. He paused for a second as he saw flat, white, panty-style underwear with a wet spot in the front.

No bulge.

"Ever fucked a bird before?" Joe said from up top.

"Oh, right," Lugo said, then kissed his cloaca slit through his underwear. A wing immediately landed on the back of his head and pushed.

"Fuck yeah, that's the spot," the eagle chirped, resting his talons on Lugo's shoulders as he pushed his hips forward. "Suck on my dirty hole."

The wolf gave his "panties" a few licks, then couldn't help himself and ripped them down Joe's thighs, bending his tailfeathers in the process.

"Sorry," Lugo said as the bird squawked, but went right in, licking through his feathers until he found that cloacal slit. Joe's stomach gurgled again, then the sound traveled closer to Lugo's head.

The wolf's exposed cock twitched under him, the knot throbbing against the ragged pieces of fabric that used to be the protective crotch of his pants and underwear. He thrust his lumpy, mess-covered rump back toward the mirror, giving Joe a show, then when the eagle leaked a salty-semi familiar substance the wolf lapped his tongue against the slit.

Then he pushed in, exploring the hot, wet, pulsing confines of the male eagle's single hole.

"Yeah, yeah," Joe groaned, bucking his hips, his groin on fire.

Lugo heard another grumble then something thick and warm hit his tongue. Tasting like a combination of wallpaper paste and old mayonnaise, Lugo retched and spit to the side.

Joe was holding his stomach, the other on top of his head. "Oh, baby, that probably wasn't cum," he said, then squawked as cramps hit him. "Get on your back, you scat-covered tramp."

Lugo complied, tossing himself onto the futon, cock standing proud and throbbing, as Joe slipped out of his pants and underpants and crawled over him. He held his stomach, then moaned and held his crotch.

A wet, muffled squelch accompanied a white splatter between his feather fingers, the stuff drooling between his legs. "Yup, baby, it's working."

Pre shot high into the air from the wolf's cock, landing on his stomach.

"Th-then let me plug you up," Lugo murred, gesturing to the stocky eagle.

"Yeah, I'll be right there, Oh God!" he groaned, then shuddered as more white bird mess squirted out from between his legs, splattering over Lugo's thighs.

Lugo groaned, nose pulsing at the ripe stains on his trousers. Joe fell forward, so he took the opportunity to push the eagle's face against his cock and ballsack. His own pile of mess was just a few inches under his balls.

"Aw hell yeah," the eagle groaned, sniffing deep and then coughing. "Oh Jesus. That's so rank but so hot."

Joe crawled up on him the rest of the way, then locked lips with Lugo as he settled his wet, white-splattered cloaca down on the wolf's cock.

"Mmmf, mmm!" groaned Joe as the wolf's tapered shaft spread him open, widening and widening until the eagle was trembling. "Holy shit that's a lot."

Lugo pushed up into him, his flesh trembling against the slick, filthy inner walls.

He didn't know whether the eagle was clenching from his girth or the laxative.

But Joe stabilized himself, resting his wings on Lugo's shoulders. He gasped again as a little more bird shit leaked out of him, but then they got a rhythm: the golden eagle rocking up and down on Lugo's long, throbbing cock, and the wolf thrusting his hips when Joe relaxed.

Lugo's ass cheeks clenched, squishing the mess weighing him down.

Joe was tight but he was eager: if Lugo could ignore the strange paste stench in the air he could pretend all that white stuff drooling out of Joe was cum, but that'd come later.

They started humping faster and faster, Lugo's knot pressing tighter against Joe's cloaca every thrust. Soon the two were in a thumping, bumping rhythm, one riding the other, driving Lugo close more than a few times.

Joe got close a few times himself, bending backwards and squawking as he shoved himself down on the wolf, spreading his ring wide.

The scat in the back of Lugo's underwear was halfway dried when the eagle moaned, "Fuck, Lugo, I'm real close, I'm gonna ..."

"Gonna what," Lugo murred. "Shit or cum?"

The eagle's chest pulsed as he steadied himself on Lugo's cock.

"I don't fucking know at this point, one or the other, I'm just gonna oh shit here it comes!"

Joe gasped and unclenched, then stumbled and slipped right off of Lugo's cock and fell on his ass. Right then, a torrent of white liquid sprayed out of Joe's slit, covering Lugo's groin and splattering up his stomach and chest, draining into the naked chest holes.

Joe wasn't done, however, and as his cloaca pulsed and drooled he got back up on the wolf's cock and rode it, a second wave spraying out between his legs and over Lugo's thigh.

His messy walls pulsed and squeezed at Lugo.

The wolf thrust up into him and gave him a spray of his own, groaning as he dumped wolf cum up into the filthy orifice. Joe responded by clenching, grinding, and squirting a stickier liquid against the invading nozzle.

This, too, drooled out of him and ruined Lugo's torn pants and soiled underwear.

The two gasped and swallowed, staring at each other and the royal mess they'd made. Lugo looked like a shiny new Furoti that'd been parked under a tree for a week.

Despite the unsanitary, startling stench of the room, the stickiness of the eagle's feces, urine, and semen all over Lugo, the wolf felt happy.

It was great to make a new friend.

"Joe, man," Lugo chuckled, "you are a kinky son of a bitch."

"Hey, I'm not the one who started this," Joe said. The eagle reached back, under Lugo's balls, and squeezed the wad of his soiled pants so hard that mess moved up against his tailhole.

Then Joe leaned forward and nuzzled the wolf with his beak. "How 'bout I put you in a fresh nappie and we watch some cartoons, eh? You can diaper your old eagle daddy, too."

Lugo's heart thumped.

"I, uh ... I have a pizza to deliver."

Joe gasped, sitting up straight. He carefully pulled Lugo's cock out of him, and of course a pint or more of white slop spilled out of him and splattered the break room floor.

"Right, you got a husband, and I got me a wife. Holy shit."

"This doesn't have to be the end," Lugo blurted.

Joe stared at him, nodding. "Nope. No it doesn't. The store has a shower; how about we enjoy a little more time together and then we uh, y'know. Pick this up later."

Lugo swung his legs over the side then stood up. The elastic of his underwear broke and mess just drooped into the butt of his pants. The eagle grinned and groped it.

"I'd like that," Lugo said, then they kissed again.