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Zaffre sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, second guessing his recent life choices. His foot-paws were tender and sore, his pelt damp with sweat. The heat was sweltering. He felt like he would melt into a puddle on the pavement with a blue and white checkered neckerchief floating atop it if he didn't get out of the sun soon. What few worldly belongings he owned were tucked into his satchel. The oppressive humidity made it feel like he was lugging a ball and chain rather than a cloth bag which probably topped out at the weight of a loaf of bread. He had enough money for food and a couple of weeks of living expenses if he stayed frugal. He was young and starry eyed; 18-years-old, fresh out of high school, and taking a year off before college to make his way out west.

Having grown up in a bustling coastal city full of modern conveniences, the river otter underestimated just how harsh the journey would be. He had sold his car for cash, and the old junker wouldn't have survived the trip at any rate. Plane tickets were well outside his price range, and feeling the invincibility of youth, he decided any risks incurred while hitchhiking were well worth the tradeoff to avoid bus fare. Only six hours trudging along the side of the highway in the middle of a southern summer later and he was already regretting that decision. He couldn't turn back now though. After an equally exhausting return hike he would have to face the family and friends he had just said an embarrassingly tearful goodbye to that morning.

He had canceled his cell plan. Not only would coverage be sparse out in the middle of nowhere, but his carrier didn't operate where he was headed and he would need to set up a new service with a new phone when he arrived anyway. He promised he would call those important to him when he safely got where he was going. He was meeting up with his best friend since junior high, who had moved across the county a year prior and promised to help Zaffre get on his feet and find a job. He wasn't sure how long the trip would take, since that depended entirely on the kindness of strangers.

Thus far, that had been approximately none.

As he was musing on this, he heard the distant roar of a powerful diesel engine barrelling up behind him. He turned to see a blazing crimson semi truck hauling an enormous trailer behind it. He held up his thumb like he had always seen in the movies when he was a cub. He'd lost count of how many vehicles had completely ignored him, but to his surprise, he heard squeal of brakes and the hiss of hydraulics. The enormous cab slowed as it passed him and came to a stop some yards ahead. Surprised and excited, Zaffre jogged to catch up with it.

Just as he approached the passenger door, a hefty reptilian arm shoved it open for him from within. Its scales were a verdant green, the shade of a freshly mowed lawn, with darker mossy pebbles mottled onto it and short, dull claws tipping its fingers. Zaffre could make out the natural ridges on the back of the forearm from the elbow down to the wrist. He peered into the cab to see a heavy set alligator, maybe twice his age, smiling back at him. His teeth were clean and sparkling white, although unevenly spaced. They jutted down over his bottom lip, around the elongated U-shape of his muzzle, mostly flat save for where it rose like cresting waves over his nostrils and eyes. An open, flannel shirt with its sleeve torn off covered a wife beater that hugged his beer gut. His biceps were strong. Not so much like a bodybuilder, but more with the casual presence of power that often exuded from larger males. His thick tail lay across the bench seat of the truck's cab. His eyes were like glimmering emeralds. The gator's pupils adjusted to the extra light from the open door narrowed to slits, revealing more sparkling green flecked with gold as he surveyed the hitchhiker.

Zaffre was a lot less physically imposing than his savior. He was a bit on the short side with an average build and sleek chestnut fur. His most notable feature was the blue tuft that colored the last half-foot of his tapered tail with a splash of cerulean, matching his irises.

He was relieved that someone had finally stopped. Nervous too. Despite his willingness to help, the gator was still rather intimidating, albeit attractive in a gruff way.

"Climb on up," he said, a strong southern twang dripping off of each word. His voice was a baritone rumble that emanated from deep in his chest. "What's your name, boy? And whatcha' doin' out here all by yourself?"

"Zaffre Brooks," the otter stammered, getting in. "Thank you so much. I didn't think anyone was going to stop."

Perspiration dampened the collar and chest of the trucker's undershirt. An enticing masculine musk wafted from him. He didn't move his massive tail, and the otter was stuck sitting with it behind his back, partially curled up around his waist. He felt it rest heavily against his thigh. The tip twitched, getting uncomfortably close to his crotch. "I'm, uh, backpacking across the country."

"Ah, of course. Of course. 'Cause hitchhiking is illegal, isn't it?" The gator replied, twisting up the corners of his mouth in a smirk. "Name's Cottonwood...but most furs like you-" he eyed Zaffre up and down judiciously- "just call me Sir."

"Nice to meet you...Sir." A tingle shot down Zaffre's spine and his face flushed with warmth as he uttered the word. Luckily the heat of the sun covered his blushing well. The mustelid was still a virgin, much to his dismay. He knew that without spare cash kicking around he might be expected to perform sexual favors in exchange for a ride. He actually kind of even hoped for just such a scenario (or at least he had pawed off to just such daydreams in the past), but didn't expect to be understood so clearly and quickly without so much as a conversation first. He pulled the door shut with a thunk and buckled up.

Within seconds they were rolling down the highway. Zaffre took a silent moment to revel in the air conditioning and finished the last of the water in the bottle he had in his pack. Cottonwood- Sir- engaged him in some light conversation. At first where he was going, but not why. It turned out that the alligator went back and forth from coast to coast a few times a month. He could take him all of the way if Zaffre was willing to play his part. The otter nodded eagerly. Then the conversation moved onto unimportant things. Smalltalk. Neither really cared for the answers, but the teenager preferred that to the staticy country western music on the stereo. An hour into the drive it seemed that the trucker finally felt that enough time and pleasantries had passed. He laid his arm across the back of the seat and over his passenger's shoulders.

"This your first time doing this, boy?" The gator asked him.

He wasn't sure if Cottonwood meant his first time hitchhiking or giving road head. No matter, the answer was the same.

"Y-yeah."

His savior arched a brow.

"Yes, Sir," Zaffre hurried to correct himself.

"See, you're a natural, boy!" He removed his arm from Zaffre's shoulders and unbuttoned the fly of his faded, torn-in-the-knees, blue jeans, exposing the fabric of his white briefs. They were a cheap, well known brand that you could buy at any department stores, and looked like they probably weren't clean when they were put on that morning (and definitely not so after hours sweating into them). Zaffre's sensitive nose detected the heady pheromones wafting from the pouch of his underwear. "Why don't we go ahead and see what else you're a natural at?"

Without taking his eyes from the road, the gator slipped his thumb beneath the elastic waist of his briefs and hooked it behind his scrotum. The soft, fleshy scales of his genitals were the same paler tan-green of his throat and chest, with an almost gray crown that poked out from his foreskin. His penis was uncircumcised, girthy and stout- a real beer can cock. It wasn't that he was short, merely that his seven incher was thick. His testicles matched in that regard, hanging heavy and low in his sac like a pair of plums. He was already half-hard, with a bead of pre glistening at the tip. The droplet swelled, and dripped, dangling from a gossamer strand to the vinyl seat beneath him.

Zaffre gulped, fearful that he wouldn't be able to fit the entirety of the alligator's shaft into his muzzle. He didn't want to be kicked out back into the heat of afternoon sun. Cottonwood flexed his tail and used it to pull the otter a bit closer to him. His worries aside, the older antho's erection did look inviting. This wasn't how he imagined he would give his first blowjob, but he wasn't exactly complaining. His own cock strained against his underwear, obviously tenting the cargo shorts he wore.

He leaned down and licked his lips. He opened his mouth and was about to engulf the head of the fat monster between the trucker's thick thighs, when his Sir put a talon on the back of his skull and grabbed a clawful of his head fur. He pressed the mustelid's head down onto his shaft, forcing it all of the way to the base, until Zaffre's chin rested in the hollow of the gator's scrotum, just above his massive orbs. Zaffre gagged loudly, but managed not to choke. Just because he had never done this with another fur didn't mean he hadn't had some "practice" with toys on his own.

Cottonwood held him there for a couple of seconds until the river otter regained his composure and started sucking. Zaffre wrapped his tongue around the reptile's hardness, savoring its flavor. The taste was unlike anything he had ever experienced. What he noticed first was the salty taste of his pre and maleness, which mingled with the trucker's aroused scent to make an intoxicating mixture. The cock in his maw grew fully erect almost instantly and painted the back of his throat with jets of precum. The mustelid dutifully swallowed it down. He experimented with rolling his tongue and trying different speeds while he slurped on the driver's knob. His efforts were rewarded with the occasional coo of "good boy" and "that's it, taste Daddy's meat," which made him glow with satisfaction.

His own titillation increasing by the second, Zaffre started to reach for his own fly, thinking that his savior wouldn't mind if he pawed off while he suckled on his maleness, but his paw was harshly slapped away from his shorts in admonishment.

"I don't want any stains in the cab, so if you're going to have to wait until we're stopped somewhere," the alligator informed him, matter-of-factly. Zaffre didn't know if he was agitated from being denied the ability or orgasm immediately or even more horny that the dominant anthro so casually ordered him around. "How this works, boy," Cottonwood continued, "is that as long as you're riding with me you are my plaything. Not the other way around. Now keep working- I'm getting close."

The otter let out a throating chirp, an involuntary needy sound of which reverberated around his host's shaft. Cottonwood's gut grew taut. His breathing intensified, making his belly rise and fall rapidly. His breath hitched, but still he growled in pleasure.

"Here it comes, short stack-" the reptile clearly had a good foot and a half on him if they were to both stand upright- "You'd better swallow every drop of my load if you want to keep riding. Make me crave the next round more than listening to the wind rush by the window without you."

The otter redoubled his efforts, determined to make sure his Sir appreciated his nut. What he lacked in experience, he made up in enthusiasm. Within seconds, spunk erupted from Cottonwood's trembling rod. Viscous strands of alligator cum, goopier- and, Zaffre noted- saltier than his own seed, splattered into the otter's gullet. He swallowed it greedily, gulping it down in a couple of mouthfuls. He even used his paw to gently massage and coax out the last remnants of the trucker's climax into a milky pearl at the tip of his glans. He whisked away with a hungry tongue and wiped his chin clean with a paw before lapping the ejaculate from it as well.

He was about to sit back upright, but the trucker's fingers again tangled into the fur on his scalp. Cottonwood forced the mustelid's head back down onto his spent, softening length. Even while no longer erect, the reptile's penis was weighty and cumbersome in Zaffre's throat. He held him in that position for several heartbeats. The hitchhiker could feel the alligator's pulse against his tongue.

"You like what you signed up for, boy?" the gator laughed. "No more piss breaks for me on this trip."

Without further warning, another liquid started to gush from the scaled anthro's piss slit. It only took the slightest taste for the otter to realize that Cottonwood was actually peeing into his muzzle. The unmistakable scent of the reptile's mark filled his nostrils. The flavor was sharply bitter compared with the previous morsel he'd been fed and it flooded his mouth rapidly. With Sir's cock lodged in his maw his only choice was to either swallow or drown in urine.

Zaffre swallowed...or at least he did his best to. Cottonwood heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief as he unloaded a very full bladder without regard for his toy's comfort. As he quaffed it down, Zaffre imagined he could sense it sloshing about in his stomach. He nearly succeeded, but in the end he coughed and sputtered as the torrent flowed faster than he could drink it. It overflowed down his chin and neck, and drenched his neck scarf and the collar of his shirt. Luckily, the mustelid realized as he hacked, only a few tiny droplets dribbled onto the trucker's jeans.

"You're gonna' make the cab reek like that!" Sir rebuked him. "Take off your shirt!"

Zaffre ceded to his authority and did so without a second thought. He wanted the piss doused garment off as much as Cottonwood seemed to. He tugged it off over his head. His now stained neckerchief along with it, leaving only his seashell necklace adorning his naked chest. Despite the disgust and degradation that he felt at being used like that without warning, his erection hadn't abated. If anything, it throbbed more painfully against the fabric of his boxer briefs than before. Without the hem of his shirt covering his lap, it was also painfully obvious. He blushed furiously. The trucker noticed and chuckled.

The natural oils in the otter's coat kept Zaffre's fur from getting soaked too deeply, and other than feeling underdressed, it was nice to be topless in the heat. The reptile snatched his shirt from him. He rolled down his window several inches so that wind thundered in the cab and let the shirt go. The air caught it and it fluttered away and out of view along the dusty highway. Zaffre didn't bother mentioning that it was the only shirt he had on him, since he planned on picking up a new wardrobe upon arrival at his friend's place. He'd have to buy a new one the next chance he had.

They return to chatting as Cottonwood tucked his junk back into his tighty whities and zipped his fly. The alligator controlled the pace of conversation, asking Zaffre about himself, and occasionally delving into matters of sexual bondage and servitude. Zaffre learned that every several trips he made, the trucker happened by and picked up a hitchhiker like the otter. All of them new adults finding their way in the world. Several of them learned to appreciate submission to a powerful male like Cottonwood and kept up an ongoing relationship with him. He would stop by for sex and to get his cock worshiped by them whenever he was in town, whether their current mates knew or desired it at all.

The evening drew on and they continued to drive until well after sunset. The trucker's GPS let them know that they were close to the cheap motel his company paid for him to stay at while en route to his cargo drop off point. They stopped for some fast food to fill their protesting stomachs before calling it quits for the evening.

"My company only pays for a single room, so you'll have to be content sharing my bed or taking the floor," he had grumbled to Zaffre, although the glint in his eye let the otter know that he knew that Zaffre fully intended to share the bed with him. He'd been fidgety and horny ever since servicing the gator earlier in the day, and was eager to explore more sex with his temporary Master. Perhaps even properly lose his virginity.

After pulling up to the mostly vacant lot of the remote motel, Cottonwood climbed down out of the truck and sauntered into the registration office. His massive tail dragged on the ground behind him with each lumbering stride. The mustelid trotted after him, not knowing if he should stay put or follow along. Now that the stars were twinkling in the sky, the humid air had grown a bit chilly. Clammy even. He rubbed his upper arms to warm up.

He caught up to the trucker just as he entered the lobby. An older capybara with drooping whiskers was sleepily watching an ancient television set behind the counter, his foot paws propped up on the desk. His eyelids were low, but they shot judiciously awake when they entered. He moved to stand at the computer to get the pair checked in. His eyes, nearly completely black and reflective like drops of ink, darted back and forth from the shirtless otter to the gator that was almost old enough to be his father if they were the same species. While he didn't say anything or scoff when they checked into a room with only one bed, Zaffre felt he immediately deduced the dynamic that existed between them.

He wondered if this same clerk had seen Cottonwood there with other wayward young males over the years.

After getting their room key- a real key, not the keycards that were the standard, suggesting that they really were out in the boonies- they found their room. It was sparsely furnished, but tidy enough. The decor was incredibly out of date, like someone froze the place in time from three decades or more prior. The door swung loudly shut on ungreased hinges.

Cottonwood had brought a backpack with him, which the otter assumed was filled with his clothes and possessions too valuable to be left out in a truck while dozens of miles from the nearest police station. He set it on the floor with more caution than Zaffre expected from him. Suddenly he shoved the otter back onto the bed, where he landed on his rump and bounced on creaking springs. There was no malice to the push. The alligator simply gave his boy no more consideration than he would any other durable object.

"I sure hope you're okay with kink, otherwise it's gonna' be a rough night for you. That said, I assume you are since you didn't turn tail and run after getting a bellyful of gator piss."

He unzipped his rucksack. There were indeed a few changes of clothes, but nestled among them was a tiny treasure trove of bondage gear: A blindfold, a collar, a pair of cuffs, a chest harness, a spreader bar, a length of nylon rope, a ball gag with a bright crimson sphere covered in tooth marks from many uses, a ring gag, a fluted wooden paddle, and much more. Zaffre was certain he had only seen the tip of the iceberg too. Cottonwood rummaged about the collection, sticking his arm in it down to the elbow.

Eventually he fished out an item from the bottom. that Zaffre had seen plenty of in online porn, but never in real life in all his nearly 19 years. In the trucker's palm was a chastity cage made of steel. Its chrome finish glinted in the soft yellow glow of the lamp that had made an electrical hum since they clicked it on. The chastity device was made of two pieces, a metal ring that looped behind the scrotum, and a criss-cross of bars that would imprison a sheath. Securing the apparatus together was a small, currently unlatched brass padlock.

"Drop your britches for me, boy," the gator said, tongue running over his jagged teeth. "And keep your thighs apart for me. Need to see how small of a cocklet I'm working with here to make sure this cage isn't too big for you?"

How could it be too big? He wondered. It would already compress his maleness into scarcely more than a nub.

Zaffre blushed, but lowered his shorts. He shimmied his underwear off with them and dropped them off of the side of the bed, revealing his sheath. It plumped with anticipation. He was modestly endowed. Not small exactly (at least he didn't think it was that small), but he certainly felt inadequate compared with the gator's impressive member.

Cottonwood knelt by the bed. His snout was mere inches from the otter's genitals. He inhaled his plaything's scent, and smiled voraciously at the obvious whiff of his arousal. He gave Zaffre's sheath a slow, powerful lick to tease it. It twitched in response and the fleshy peach tip of his rod began to entreat out its fuzzy confines.

"Cute. You're the smallest guy I've trained in a long, long time."

The mustelid's heart fluttered upon being called "cute." If only it weren't a comment meant to taunt the size of his penis.

The reptile forced the tiny tube of steel bars around Zaffre's sheath, stifling his burgeoning erection, and connected it with its other piece. The hitchhiker felt himself squeeze to fit into the device, and his testicles were uncomfortably squashed forward by the ring behind his sac. For being so miniscule, the cage had a surprising amount of weight to it. Cottonwood snapped the lock shut. It clicked louder than the otter expected. Zaffre didn't even know where the key was kept. He just then realized he was only assuming that the trucker had one, since the gator had never produced it for him to confirm. He shivered, suspended somewhere at the intersection of embarrassed, excited, lustful, and anxious.

"I'll unlock this when I drop you off at the end of the trip. Probably. You're mine until at least then, Understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

His owner strapped the ball gag into Zaffre's mouth and clasped it behind his head. He shackled the otter's wrists with a pair of cuffs connected by a slender chain. A collar was buckled around his throat next and a matching loop was fastened tightly around his tail. Those were linked by a taut length of chain as well, keeping the mustelid's back arched and his tail curling up toward the back of his head. A spreader bar was affixed between his legs, just below his knees, forcing his thighs wide apart to ensure his ass and groin were readily accessible. Cottonwood helped his charge flip onto all fours, then wrapped a blindfold around his head, shrouding his vision in darkness and making his other senses sharper by contrast.

Zaffre jolted and jumped at each fresh touch. His ears rotated like radar dishes to follow new sounds.

"Breaking in a new boy is always the best part. This may hurt a bit since it's your first time and all, but give in to Daddy Gator's commands and you'll be enjoying yourself in no time. Don't worry, the rooms next to our's are vacant. Hell, this whole damn motel is! Other than the clerk we got the only vehicle in the lot, so you can moan as loud as you want and you don't have to worry 'bout no one overhearing. You shouldn't feel self-conscious even if the place were packed, though. Good toys don't have a problem with furs knowing how much they crave a proper cock up their ass."

Zaffre mumbled an incoherent response into his gag while his captive erection fought a losing battle against the bars of the cage. The room smelled of impending sex and inticingly masculine pheromones. He quivered as something thick, warm, and wet prodded at his tailhole. His body vibrated with nervous energy. It took mere seconds to realize that the moist member circling his ring was his Sir's tongue and not his cock.

Cottonwood lapped up the entire length of the otter's cleft with forceful swipes of his tongue. Zaffre tensed with each pass. Soon enough, the alligator pressed his tapered tongue more forcefully at the mustelid's aperture, easing him open enough to shove it in an inch or so. The otter groaned in bliss as it wriggled its way deeper into his entrance, spreading him open wider. The otter dribbled a steady drip stream pre. His owner continued to lick and slither his tongue about with zeal, making the hitchhiker's limbs shaky and weak. Zaffre wanted nothing more than to collapse in ecstasy and enjoy the sensation, but he was painfully aware of the chastity device gripping his hard-on.

Fapping when he arrived at his friend's place early the next week was going to make him splatter a blast of cum like he had never done before. He couldn't recall the last time he had gone 24 hours without a climax.

All too soon, the reptile stopped. The center of the cheap mattress bowed a bit under the weight of a second anthro as Cottonwood clambered up onto the bed behind where Zaffre was bound. The gator's hefty belly pressed against his backside, and radiated warmth. His turgid shaft grinded between the pert globes of the young otter's ass. He drizzled a cool, slick oil onto his length from a travel sized bottle, and lubricated his cock with it. The chill liquid tickled his submissive where it caressed his prepared hole and made him squirm. The mustelid wiggled his hips back in anticipation.

"I appreciate your enthusiasm, boy," Cottonwood complimented him, placing a wide palm on the small of his back. He guided his lubricated crown to the prepared tailhole with his other hand. Zaffre's ring was wet and glistening with his saliva.

Zaffre winced and gasped as the trucker began to bury himself in him with a slow thrust of his powerful hips. Inch after inch of thick gator meat forced its way into him. Cottonwood's cock brushed past his sweet spot, igniting fireworks of delight in the river otter's loins. A rivulet of pre jetted from his entrapped, spasming member in return.

The alligator pressed steadily forth, until the entirety of his length was hilted into his new submissive. He stayed still, letting the virginal mustelid adjust to being pried open. He snarled with pleasure when Zaffre clamped down around his invading member, squeezing it with his snug heat. The otter huffed and writhed as well as he could in his bondage. His Sir was right. It did hurt a bit at first, but soon the overwhelming sensation of pleasure gripped him and wouldn't let go. He tried to grind his hips back further, but they were already firmly pressed against his lover's soft pelvis.

Cottonwood finally pulled back until just the mushroom-shaped head of his cock remained in his toy's rump, then slammed forward again far more vigorously than before. Zaffre was certain that if he wasn't blindfolded his eyes would've popped out of his head. They groaned simultaneously. The scalie repeated this several times, picking up speed while he grunted, and snarled, and bucked in a jolting, arrhythmic pattern. He puffed hot breath against the nape of the mustelid's neck.

Soon enough, Cottonwood reached the point of no return. He fell forward over the otter's back and placed his fists on the mattress on either side of Zaffre. His bulk pressed down on his boy as he started humping with a feral tenacity, driving his cock home again and again, like a piston in a well-oiled machine.

He shuddered and unleashed a reptilian hiss as he climaxed. The older male pumped a load of spunk every bit as voluminous as the wad he had his plaything swallow earlier that afternoon. Zaffre, for the first time ever, felt the heat of fresh cum melting and spreading within him. Cottonwood stayed still and kept his softening member in his partner's tailhole, until at last it softened enough to slip out of its own accord, trailing with it a spurt of semen that leaked down Zaffre's thigh. He eventually rolled off, spent, and wordlessly reached over to turn off the bedside lamp.

Being left bound and denied for the night, it was incredibly difficult for the hitchhiker to fall asleep. Not only was the gear making him stiff in some ways (and preventing stiffness in others), but his discomfort was only matched by his arousal. He was hornier than he had ever been in his entire life. Zaffre badly needed to paw off to release the tension that had welled up in him. The cloying scent of their recent rutting hung tantalizingly in the air. He whined and whimpered with need, only to be reprimanded for the noise by the sleepy trucker. Somehow the mustelid forced himself to be silent. He craved further use by the gator who had taken his virginity, but it seemed that Cottonwood was exhausted from the exertion of deflowering him.

Zaffre must've nodded off, because the alligator woke him a couple of hours later. He removed most of the equipment strapped to the backpacking fur, but left the chastity cage in place. It wasn't for Zaffre's benefit. In the early hours of the morning Cottonwood needed to take a leak and decided that the otter was the ideal urinal for the job. After unshackling his submissive he instructed him to kneel in the shower. The reptile at some point had donned his underwear again. Zaffre watched from the tub while the trucker approached him clad in only his well-worn briefs. His heavy dad-bod made him a perfect candidate to model for underwear packages now that many advertisers were shying away from purely athletic physiques in the modern era to more realistically expected proportions. Not that Zaffre minded. There weren't many male bodies he didn't thoroughly appreciate.

Cottonwood lowered the front of his underwear as he approached and didn't even make another comment before exhaling and releasing a healthy spray of piss at the otter's plush chest fur. He waved his member back and forth, coating the otter's entire body. It cascaded down his coat, starting at his neck and shoulders and wetting his stomach, groin, and thighs as well. The gator raised his spout higher and ordered his boy to open his muzzle. He filled it with piss and forbade him from swallowing until the rest of his pee was through. He eventually shook the last remaining drops from his piss slit over the soaked mustelid, and stuffed himself away in his threadbare underwear before shuffling back to bed.

Zaffre wasn't sure if he was allowed to shower off the trucker's mark yet and merely toweled off well before climbing back into bed and cuddling up against the reptile for warmth. He slept hard, effortlessly able to stay snoozing even through the gator's occasional snorts and snores.

After sunrise Cottonwood showered and had his slave to do the same. Zaffre, who despite having his morning wood painfully stymied by the cage, wasn't quite as horny as he was the previous night and pleased to have the opportunity to scrub his coat clean of sweat, piss, and cum. Considering that they had a few days of driving yet, he was sure he'd be used again many times during that window.

They dressed, or dressed as much as the otter was capable of doing, anyway, and checked out with the same sleepy capybara from the evening before. They stopped at a truckstop diner for breakfast before getting rolling for the day. It was packed with rugged furs eating hearty breakfasts. The truckers snickered and elbowed each other in the ribs while pointing at Zaffre as he passed. The otter's ears drooped in embarrassment since it was obvious what the relationship between him and Cottonwood was to the gator's peers. Cottonwood seemed proud of his reputation.

They ate quickly to make good time on the road. Knowing he was likely to get a bellyful of piss or four that day, the otter cringed at seeing his driver order an entire pot of black coffee. Never having developed a taste for the bitter beverage, Zaffre requested a tall glass of apple juice for himself, which came back to haunt him less than an hour on the highway. He started fidgeting and twitching, needing to relieve himself.

"Can we stop so I can pee, Sir?"

"Not now, boy, we're off to a great start. We got a mandatory weigh station coming up in an hour or so. You'll have to hold it until then."

Zaffre hadn't brought it up until he was already practically dancing in his seat with the need to go. He didn't want to annoy the trucker by asking to piss only minutes after leaving the cafe, so he had already waited for what he thought was a reasonable amount of time.

"But I really have to go," he implored. So total was Cottonwood's authority over him that he accidently whined the statement like he was a decade younger than he was and whimpering to his father on a road trip.

"Don't make me repeat myself, boy."

Zaffre bit his lip and silently concentrated. He remembered seeing the intimidating implements that the alligator had in his backpack, and didn't relish the thought of sitting in the truck on a bruised and smarting ass all trip. He held his knees together, grabbed his crotch, bounced his legs, and did everything else in his power to hold it as he was ordered. The minutes on the digital clock seemed to drift by slower than molasses in winter. His bladder twinged painfully. Every second felt like it was its own painful eternity. He could only hold on so long. His eyes shot wide open. He knew he was at his limit!

"Sir...Sir! I'm going to-" his breath caught in his throat as he felt the first trickle of wetness bloom across the crotch of his underwear. Once that stream started, he couldn't stop it. The dam burst and his bladder failed him entirely. The dark, damp patch quickly became visible on his shorts. The audible hiss was unmistakable, as was the mixture of horror and relief upon the otter's face. He trembled as he stared down at the obvious. A small but growing pale yellow puddle formed beneath him on the seat. "I'm sorry. I've never done that before. I-I-"

The otter's lip quivered and his face burned like a wildfire from the humiliation of wetting himself like a cub. Cottonwood's predatory eye drifted over to where Zaffre shifted uncomfortably. It glimmered with a devilish idea.

"Take off your shorts and undies, boy, and use 'em to wipe up what you can!" The gator snapped.

"You're not going to throw these out the window too, Sir?" Zaffre asked as he removed the last stitches of clothing he had and awkwardly did his best to sop up his piss off of the seat while still buckled in. "They're all I have to wear."

"That sounds like backtalk! But I promise I won't-" the mustelid started to breathe a huge sigh of relief- "You will." As he spoke the alligator held down the button to lower Zaffre's window with a mechanical hum. "Toss 'em now, boy, or you're going back to walking. When we stop for lunch I'll pop into a store and find you something proper to wear."

With a trembling paw, the mustelid held his sodden cargo shorts and boxer-briefs out of the window and let go. The wind caught them immediately and seconds later they had disappeared from view in the mirror. Even though they were still in the grip of a heat wave, the air whipping past at 70 mph was chilly against his naked, damp body. Cottonwood rolled the glass back up.

"Good, slinky boy. Now get back over here and empty my balls."

Zaffre felt the cage squeezing his sheath grow tighter as he leaned forward and unzipped the trucker's fly to do just that.

A few hours down the line, the reptile pulled into the parking lot of a modest strip mall. There were numerous stores and restaurants, and it was surprisingly bustling for being so out of the way. It certainly had nothing on the city plaza's that Zaffre was used to, but there were several dozen furs visible at any one time going about their errands. It must've been the shopping hub for the surrounding rural communities.

"Stay here," Cottonwood directed him. "I'll be back in a few minutes with some lunch and something appropriate for you to wear." The river otter didn't need the reminder. He was completely nude except for the chastity device. He wasn't about to go for a jog around the block with his balls and tailhole on full display.

Zaffre sat in awkward silence in the cab while the trucker shuffled across the lot. The cab was raised high enough that any passerbys peering in the windows could only see him from the shoulder up, so it would appear as if he were merely shirtless. This wasn't out of the ordinary since there were a smattering of other anthros in view that had their shirts trailing out of their back pockets to fight the heat, but he still felt horribly exposed. Cottonwood took his time returning, allowing his vulnerable charge to fidget and quietly panic anytime a fur passed within arm's reach of the semi.

When the alligator at last returned, he held up two plastic sacks. One contained a pair of deli sandwiches and a couple of bags of chips and cans of soda. The other held an oddly large, rounded rectangular package. Hungry, and just relieved that getting dressed was going to happen soon, the otter excitedly reached for the sandwiches. He did want to cover himself, but his rumbling stomach betrayed him.

"We're trying out your new wardrobe first," Cottonwood scolded. He reached into the second bag and pulled forth a package of adult diapers. They were definitely too small for the gator, but would probably be sized just right for the other. Zaffre went from blushing to having the blood drain from his face. Did the trucker really want him wearing a diaper for the remainder of the trip? It was just one accident, and only because his owner wouldn't stop for him to pee on the side of the road.

"A d-d-diaper , Sir?"

"Diapers, actually. Got you a dozen to use until you have proven you can control yourself. Three changes a day should probably last us, but if we run out and need to stop for more, that's not a problem. And you never know. You might develop a taste for them. I've got one boy who wears 'em 24/7 these days. Although I guess that is my choice, not his." The implicit threat was there all right. "Lay down on the seat and I'll get you padded up."

Zaffre didn't really have another choice. His satchell didn't have any more clothes in it. It was either wear (and presumably use) a diaper and stay in the air conditioned cab with a free ride full of hot sex all of the way across the country, or get out now completely naked and be abandoned in a parking lot. He laid down. He was short enough that he could actually lay on the seat with only his foot paws poking out the passenger side door. Cottonwood ripped open the package of diapers with his teeth and tore one from the stack within. He unfurled and fluffed it.

The diaper was mostly white. It had four blue tapes and a wetness indicator in the form of a thin blue stripe along the crotch. The disposable padding was backed with plastic. It crinkled obnoxiously as the reptile handled it. Zaffre cringed, hoping that the trucker wasn't attracting any attention to them. He grabbed the otter's ankles up and together with one hand and used the other to slide the protection underneath his plaything's rump. He carefully adjusted the position of the diaper then folded the front up and over the mustelid's genitals. He stretched the tabs into place, each tape loudly protesting as it stuck onto the rustling material. When he stood back upright to survey his work, the backpacker was diapered for the first time in nearly two decades.

Thoroughly humiliated at being seen wearing nothing but a diaper by his handsome, older Dom, Zaffre blushed deeply. His inner ears turned crimson and his cheeks were so red you could see their scarlet glow through the pale brown of the fur of his facial markings. He squirmed and wiggled restlessly, feeling a strange but familiar warmth of arousal well up in his nether regions. His sheath throbbed against its bars. The mustelid wasn't sure if it was the physical sensation of the plush lining against his backside and sac, the intoxicating addiction to embarrassment and degradation he was feeding, or a newfound fetish blossoming in him. The diapers were surprisingly comfortable to wear, even if they did force his thighs apart. As much as he hated to admit it, he could get used to them...as long as nobody else saw him wear them. The fact that the driver mentioned that he would be getting three changes a day meant he was expected to keep wetting himself, rather than use the toilet like an adult. The idea made him tingle. Reflecting on the experience, fully losing control of his bladder sent a sexual thrill him. The relief, when it finally came, was nearly orgasmic. He wondered if it would feel the same when his control was given willingly over to the other male, rather than lost organically.

Zaffre got more comfortable in his diaper while they ate. When they finished their lunch, Cottonwood collected their garbage into the sack he had brought the food in, then nodded to a trashcan several yards from where they had parked on the corner of the shopping center.

"Go throw our trash away, then we can get going for the day," the gator told his submissive. "Don't dawdle now," he added quickly when he saw the flash of hesitation cross the otter's face.

Zaffre had been enjoying the rush of being used, but the trucker was pushing him to his limits. Judging by his cruel smirk, he was well aware of that fact. Now that lunchtime was drifting into early afternoon, the activity in the shopping center had thinned, but it was still alive with activity. The mustelid didn't want to disappoint his Sir. This trip was supposed to be his adult awakening. He was reaching out and trying new things. Building a new him. Zaffre placed his paw on the door handle and opened it a crack, steeling himself. He could do this. He could sprint to the garbage can and back. Hardly a soul would witness it and those that did would never see him again. He'd be back in the truck before they could snap any photos with their smartphones.

He had almost mustered the courage when Cottonwood gave him a little shove and pulled the door shut behind him, preventing him from backing out. If he felt exposed and vulnerable before, he was absolutely laid bare now.

He hurried to the trash bin. The bulky diaper made him waddle and slowed his gait. He forced tunnel vision upon himself. He didn't know if there were zero furs watching him toddle about in only a diaper or twenty. He made it to the can and chucked their waste inside. In a display of boldness that surprised even himself, he took the extra couple of seconds to sort out the recycling and toss that into the receptacle next to it before jogging back to the truck.

He heard a static crackle as he approached again and through the windows he saw Cottonwood talking on his CB radio, something that he had done sparingly during their last day together. He opened the door to climb back in, his heart pounding like a jackhammer, just as the gator replaced his microphone into its holster. The scalie held up his hand in a "halt" gesture. Zaffre was anxious to get back into the cab. He was not enjoying his diapered rump hanging out exposed to the public.

"Sorry, boy. I got to turn back around. They made a mistake with my shipment and are paying heavy overtime for me to turn around and get the cargo sorted out before finishing the trip out west. I'm not supposed to have any hitchhikers or other company in the truck, so I'll have to leave you here."

"B-but..." Zaffre stammered. He wasn't even entirely sure where here was.

"It's been fun having you on board. I'll tell you what: If you're still out here when I get back in a couple of days, I'll pick you back up and we can finish the journey together," Cottonwood said, handing the otter his messenger bag and the remaining diapers. "Now I know you've got a little cash stashed away so you can buy yourself something to eat, and maybe even some clothes-" to buy either Zaffre would need to be brave enough to visit a store and make a purchase clad in only a diaper- "So to see if you're worthy of staying my boy, I'm only going to stop and let you back on if I see you standing out here in nothing but a wet diaper. Ya' hear? Have to make sure my toys know their place is to be humiliated, after all."

Zaffre wasn't sure he wanted to hang around the area wearing only diapers for a couple of days just to get a ride, but he didn't have much of an option. If he was having trouble finding someone to help him before, it would be even harder now. Was it even legal to hang out in public in only a diaper? He really wanted to be officially collared by Cottonwood too. The trucker had shown him a whole world of new pleasures.

"But what about the cage," he hissed the last word quietly but plaintively, looking over each shoulder before he spoke, as if it were a foul word to utter in public.

"The earlier promise still stands," Cottonwood informed him with a definitive nod. "I'll unlock it when we arrive out west together. If you aren't here using your diapers like a good otter when I pull through, you're out of luck." The door pulled shut. The engine revved. Zaffre watched the gator pulled away until all he saw were the wisps of smoke his semi's tall exhaust pipes churned out trailing into the sky.