FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The gift shop took its cues both from juggernaut theme parks and from Las Vegas excess by way of Caesar's Palace, but it did not have any bright colors. Even the Praetorian purple was a faded lavender, as if the group had discovered this relic from either two hundred or two thousand years ago. Ostentatious as its geometry and decoration was, the gift shop was oddly austere, at least from what they could see on the ground level: it appeared as an actual temple would, with massive, slightly rough stone columns. Its multiple floors had a strange Escher-like inconsistency, fooling the eye into seeing perhaps six floors when the guide said there were only four. And not unlike SootheBlurt or, as Mark would remark, M.I.L.K., the geometrically improbable layout had an entrancing, captivating quality, enfolding Kioga and the gang into a sense of peace, comfort, seriousness, and exploration as easily as a diaper enfolded the loins.

A generously-breasted guinea fowl, dressed in a toga whose side split to reveal a crisp white diaper on her hip, greeted them with a calm, soothing, and professional tone, and asked if they'd like a store map or a tour.

"I apologize that we are down one tour guide--he is quite a naughty boy--but if you need help from any of us, just give us a rattle!" she said, handing each of them a tiny novelty toy.

"Oh, he's a tour guide, too?" asked Ceylon.

"A busy boy, but a naughty one."

Kioga leaned on a sign marking the entrance. "Diapers recommended past this point?" he asked.

"It's a very nice environment, as you can see, and you can find yourself lost in thought, or in the store, with a sudden need, and then a sudden non-need, for the bathroom. We're working alongside a Swedish racing casino in Las Vegas to adapt the mood and layout to an ABDL-forward venue."

"Oh we have to go," said Ceylon. "Again. Sometime."

Kioga blushed and bumped shoulders with him. "Free diaper changes if you're gambling?"

"Of course," the fowl said with a smile. "And I see you're all in your little nappies and one in very special pants!" she said, indicating Mark, "So please enjoy our discount at the end of your trip."

Mark cleared his throat, trying to avoid blushing in his ears. He looked like such a big boy in his Praetorian onesie and fluffy padding.

"Yeah, uh, thanks," he said.

"I might have to start buying from here instead of you, buckaroo," said Mort, slapping a scaly paw on the cheetah's shoulder. "This place is way nicer!"

"And I don't think they sell knives," growled Kioga.

"Ah, no worries, I brought my own!"

"Jesus Christ," he sighed, then snapped his fingers to lead the group onward.

The ground floor was a combination of an upscale department store and a hospital supply company, with ceiling-high shelves of folded diapers stacked on top of each other in between the natural and old stone columns. Wrinkly plastic bags of the product were hidden behind exposition-type sticker booklets, with each sticker representing a desired model and quantity should the shopper decide to buy in bulk.

Kioga selected a large plastic shopping cart from the entrance, then had to clear his throat as he realized it was electrically driven, and the child seat near the bar was adult-sized. He giggled as his fur prickled. "Hey love, want a ride?"

Ceylon turned and his wings fell. "Oh my gosh," he said, then shook the matting out of his feathery fur. "How about you go first?"

"Oh no," Kioga said, but before he could swing his second leg into the "child" seat, he noted that Ricky, Beatrice, Mort, and Mark had already commandeered two of them and were joy-riding through the store. He slipped fully into the cart and set his leather diaper bag down in the basket.

They continued with Ceylon calmly perusing the shelves and pushing his diapered boyfriend around. This was the general incontinence section, and though all the products were of a completely practical purpose, the Carcer Contempla gift shop held an air of proud quality. All of the diapers were silky smooth to the touch, though none of them were patterned aside from stripes, polka dots, or tie-dye. Next came onesies of solid colors, with either snaps or magnets to fasten the crotch.

Ceylon had to stop the cart a couple times when he rounded a corner to find mannequins, of various generic species, wearing only a diaper or a combination of diaper and onesie.

"It's an incontinence boutique at this point," he remarked.

"I'm loving it," Kioga said. The cheetah couldn't help but wave his tail and kick his feet as they hung from the back of the cart.

Even the allegedly plain medical accessories, from impermeable changing pads to catheters and enemas and gloves and wipes, were each displayed proudly and suspended in a glass case not unlike the museum pieces in the other wing. The mats looked soft, thick, and warm; the catheters were smooth and sterile, with various materials ranging from the classic yellow rubber to more transparent and flexible looking versions; the enema bulbs had ergonomic grips and their bag counterparts offered a range of flow valves.

The center of the section even offered Invisible Gloves, contained in a pump bottle resembling hand sanitizer. The lovely gel effectively formed a barrier around a person's paws for at least ten minutes, removable only with hand-soap, allowing for a person to perform markedly dirty jobs with their bare hands without creating glove waste.

Ceylon scooped three into the cart. "I didn't think this stuff was out yet," he said, then flipped one of the bottles. "Was it the Praetorians that snuck past US and EU approv--oh, it's Cavendish Sanctities. Sneaky maneuver."

Kioga reached back and grabbed another bottle. "Heh, got his own poncy label. 'Highly unlikely to cause hair loss, but in the event of follicles falling out, I'm quite sorry. - Aloy.'"

"Okie doke," said Cey, "Now how are we on diap..." He caught Kioga's gaze. "Excessively overstocked, right. But should we get some Silkies or Tells?"

"Oh, so my home diapers aren't good enough."

"And people with gas ovens still eat out."

"Yeah, get some Prae Tells; they got that bioluminescent gel."

"And some Silkies, because I'm pushing the cart and I said so."

"Fill the whole warehouse; I can almost see the roof at this point."

"Perfect," the gryphon said, then took a couple of reference cards.

They traveled out of the Medical Boutique only to stop at a small concession stand, where ice cream was being served and there were a range of frozen steel molds, in case someone wanted an ice cream scoop shaped like a pacifier bulb, a baby bottle, or a penis. They got one of each, and Ceylon asked, "Are you lactose-intolerant?"

Kioga paused mid-lick, then let the cone hang from his barbed tongue as a joke. "Uhm, what would my thtool look like, or what'd be it'h conthithenthy?"

"Liquid, right," said Cey.

"Thoud've thought that through," he thaid.

The gryphon shrugged. "It's conversation."

"Besides," said Key, removing the cone and biting a hunk. The dessert's penis shape was a bit visceral when the tip was chomped off. "Hey, circumcision!"

"Ouch; don't."

"Hehe. Besides, all the symptoms of lactose-intolerance--diarrhea, nausea, abdominal bloating, abdominal distension, abdominal pain, and flatulence--I have that on a normal basis. Don't mean to brag."

"Nausea? Wasn't your lower gastro snipped?"

"Aha! Gastrocircumcision; got my foretestine clipped."

"Will you just answer the--"

"It's nausea from the fumes."

"Fair play."

"I'm my own side-effect," shrugged Kioga.

"Secondhand, too. I'm so jealous," Ceylon said with a smirk. They caught the gangbangers rattling through the Medical Boutique, and while Mark and Mort took quite a shining to the silky-smoothness of the Silkies model, Beatrice pointed out that white diapers was how they got here in the first place.

"I'll wear them inside," countered Mark.

"We're never inside," objected Mort, then took Mark's "Public Defecation and Stupidity" ticket. "Besides, you're already down for a whole order of blacks."

"Maybe I want some variety!"

"Oh hey, a drink bag!" said Ricky, which made the others snicker.

"That goes in your butt, dude."

"What the heck are Invisible Panties?" asked Beatrice, grabbing another bottle. "Ah, bacteria guard. Definitely grabbing that for your late nights."

"Glad they're taking a shine to the whole paradigm," said Ceylon.

"Just wait until they get to the other sections," Kioga said with a smirk, and they traveled on towards Life Furniture over a bridge spanning the two halves of the store. Its temple aesthetic, or rather temple construction subtly continued in all its understated magnificence, the ceiling high and capped with a dome, the columns thick and tall as trees, and the bridge and its banisters made of solid stone.

Above them they saw the soft twinkle of the upper floor. The ceiling was painted like a beautiful, bright blue sunny day and depicted triumphant angels of many sexes and species. Quite a few cherubim were among the adult angels, and most of them were swaddled in comfortable cloth and disposable diapers. Some had golden trumpets, some had golden pacifiers. The adult angels were mostly physically fit, though some had Lugo's definition of fitness: overfitness. There were a few with more "average" and more "Western-spoiled" physiques, but the diversity was only surface-level distracting. What caught the guys' eyes primarily was of course the raiment of the angels, and quite a few of them had golden or white adult diapers, and trumpets and pacifiers, too! A few others had the classic thong underwear showing a range of male bulges and female triangles, but even these tended to have the tape-and-pleated-waistband of absorbent attire. With some proper squinting, Ceylon and Kioga spotted a few under-tail bulges as well.

"Bet that's the ABDL section," Kioga noted, contentedly kicking his feet as Ceylon moved him to Life Furniture. The gryphon's nose twitched and they entered the next section of the store. This department maintained the temple aesthetic, putting much of its appliances and furniture on plinths to raise them to eye level. There was the normal stuff, such as washers and dryers with special "bio" settings--guaranteed to get the most offensive stains out of pajamas and underwear--and large-sized diaper pails with communication features and stat/scat tracking.

"Oh goodness, that could even hook up to a newer fridge," observed Ceylon. "I could only imagine the diet suggestions it would create for you."

"Don't," said Kioga with a wink.

There was a line of plain adult-sized cribs along the back wall, marked as "secure sleepers" and offering hygienic options such as carbon-laced bedsheets and a bed-wide pad connected to a replenishing roll. Near this was a tall vending box which stacked diapers like napkins or tissues, and next were the changing tables with posable arms and leg stirrups. Kioga saw Ceylon reaching toward a reference card, and asked, "You think we need the stirrups? My legs aren't that heavy."

"Yes, but this has a whole toolbox. Powder, Invisible Gloves dispenser, and even Patch-Tape for when a diaper tape pops. It could even hold the sides while I'm lining up the front, and oh hey!"

The gryphon leaned forward, around Kioga, to press a button which raised multiple padded horizontal bars in the table's center bay. "Haha, it's like a car-lift for people. Now I can really work on the underside! For the diapers, of course. Ahem."

Kioga smirked. "For the diapers. Right."

"I mean," said the gryphon, feeling a little flush in public. He forgot if he'd worn a cage that day, but as he grew warm, his organ reminded him quite firmly. "Oof, ouch. There's a certain sense of pride when it's not only your own fluids leaking out of you."

Kioga blushed and felt his own onesie lump grow a bit triangular in the front.

"Perfect."

"Oh! Even has a privacy screen," Ceylon added, and an entire canvas wall flopped out like half a tent. "Which reminds me," he said, pinching his muzzle and waving his other paw in front of his face. "We might need to find a testing model soon."

"Oh," the cheetah said with a start, then tugged his onesie collar to sniff down it. "Inshallah; you ain't whistlin' Dixie. Yeah, let's get an NJ, or whatever they call them here."

He pumped his legs to get out of the cart, but Ceylon pushed him back in and wagged a finger. "Can't have you just running all over the store and getting lost."

"Someone's feeling authoritative!"

"Shush," the lynxsprey said, then took out his novelty rattle and gave it a jingle.

The noise from the tiny little toy didn't seem to travel far, but in two minutes they saw the large-breasted guinea fowl arrive at the other end of the bridge take a running leap to soar over the chasm between Medical Boutique and Life Furniture.

"Yes, may I help you find something?" she said in a measured rhythm. "Or," she added, putting a finger to her nostrils with a wink, "Does somebody need a change?"

"Yes; both would be good, actually!"

"Very good," she said, keeping her head elegantly straight. "And may I provide assistance?"

"Um," Ceylon said, looking back at Kioga. The little cutie looked so wonderful in his trolley chair, though that mushy diaper definitely had to go. "Actually, if you could just point me in the direction of a changing room, I can take care of it."

The fowl's beak drifted to the changing table they'd been ogling. "Why not give our floor model a test run? No worries; we sanitize it every time, as well as empty out any Smart-Pails. Just deploy the privacy screen."

"Every time?" the gryphon questioned. "Like, others have used it?"

"Are ya really afraid of a public changing table?" asked Kioga.

"No!" he said. "I'm, um, just surprised this is allowed on the showroom floor."

"Does this go against the Stupid Laws?" asked Kioga.

The fowl shook her head and smiled. "If you look at the Code of Recklessness, you'll see the words 'minimum' and 'reasonable' mentioned many times. Would you be interested in the philosophy of Pendrael's Policy of Self-Containment?"

Ceylon was in the process of lifting Kioga out of the cart, who was roughly the same height and weight as himself. As such, the cat helped a bit. "Like a world of diapers?" he asked.

She started sounding quite official, as if posing for a commercial. "A 'world of diapers' moniker would, indeed, be the most accurate and simple title, but in such an 'ideal' environment where toilets are reserved for emergencies and random conveniences--an occasional commode-ity--and restrooms are converted into changing rooms, and it is the vast majority of people--did you want help with that?"

Ceylon had helped Kioga up onto the changing table, and as soon as the cheetah's back hit the cushion, a soft teal glow suffused itself over the top and the bezel surrounding it. As gravity shifted, so did the cheetah's diaper. Between his white-painted thighs, the pouch sagged over his tail, a floppy, lumpy plastic bag of gel and waste. It wasn't leaking quite yet, but it was one of Kioga's "high density, low integrity" diapers and thus could be a bit exciting to change.

"Oh, no!" the gryphon said with a smile. "I'm an expert by this point. And I enjoy doing it ... usually." Ceylon's muzzle crinkled a bit as he opened the bottom of the onesie. The snaps jumped back with the elastic cloth, revealing the distended medical garment distinctly discolored in shades of light yellow over the groin, and darker above the tail. Right at the seam of leg and loins, the frilly leg-guards were starting to tinge. This was going to be a sloppy one. "Heh."

The fowl stepped to the side and pressed a button, which made the privacy screen rise up on a pole, then fwump out like a peacock's tail, giving them almost a half-dome of discreteness and decency.

"This is not a full screen?" the gryphon asked. "I suppose it has to be against a wall, but it's not flush?"

"Back to a world of diap--" she started, then corrected herself. "Policy of Self-Containment, a diaper change is a necessary 'ugliness,' the same way as a regular toilet visit is. And so it may not be necessary to ensure absolute privacy, but just enough to signify that perhaps a person should not stare."

"Like breastfeeding?" Kioga asked, lifting his hips after Ceylon squeezed a few pumps of Invisible Gloves onto his paws.

The fowl's eyes widened. "I could have saved myself a few sentences with that."

"But I liked the elaboration," added the cheetah. His boyfriend was working the gel between his fingers and eyeing his palms.

"Oh! Nice and cooling," Ceylon said. "...and warm at the same time!"

"I best not be getting Icy-Hot in my anus."

The gryphon paused, then shrugged. "One way to find out?"

Kioga smirked, shook his head, and lay back. The top of the pad seemed to rise up, and he found his skull cradled by an ergonomic cushion, and he spotted the guinea-fowl was on the side of the table with another button, the switch hidden in its comfortable, glowing fabric.

"Would you like to see our anti-gravity model?" the fowl suddenly asked, "It's brand-new and has already sold out to every non-Puerto citizen--including DiaPai Obstiphates and several anonymous celebrities--so as such I have to pre-apologize for its 'whale' price. I'm sure it'll be mass-produced in ten years."

"I could see some ... questionable military research," observed Ceylon.

The fowl, whose nametag said Peggy, gave her first candid smirk of their encounter. "I'm sure you could imagine, Mister Davis, your boss's opinion on governmental agencies. Especially the violent ones."

"'They're all violent,'" quoted Kioga with a chuckle and a sigh. "Which he doesn't literally mean, but there's a little bit of irony in registering a patent--a license for exclusivity--with the same organization that can, in theory, steal your patent 'for its own good' or 'the good of the public ...' of which Prociev Pendrael is a part of."

"How do you suppose he would protect it?" asked Peggy.

"He doesn't register his patents on Earth," said the cheetah.

"So there's some governmental organization," Ceylon said, rubbing his goatee. "Don't you think that perhaps DiaPai, China, or the United States could purchase one and reverse-engineer it? Through a fence, effectively?"

"Excepting the idea of some secret alien-eldritch keskin super-army," said Kioga, thumbing a hanging padded onesie with the Praetorian logo, "I suppose it would depend on what the military tries to accomplish with the technology."

"Is it in the company manual?" asked Ceylon, lowering his voice.

"Sure," said Kioga, which made the lynxsprey's ears spike up.

"'In case of violation of KSK patents,' the section is called," said Kioga, "it reads, 'I'll let you know.'"

Ceylon deflated.

Kioga leaned up, accidentally pulling his groin away from the gryphon. Ceylon stood there with his fingers pinched around invisible tapes. "Which, yes. It'd be nice to know if a patent is violated and Pendrael suddenly disappears--more often than he usually does--but hey, above my pay-grade, right?"

Cey's eyes fluttered a bit. "It is rude to talk about money, but aren't your royalties from the commercials rather generous?"

"I wouldn't even be in the top hundred of Hollywood celebs," Kioga said, "and really, after Star Wars 15, I was gray-listed from the city because I thought their parties were too filthy."

"Oh!" Ceylon said, then reached forward to tug Kioga back down on the changing table. Work had to be done even if the cheetah was a squirmy boy. "It is really that bad?"

"I'm sure I just went to the wrong one," said Key. "Hashtag 'not all actors.'"

The gryphon nodded and started peeling his tapes. Between the conversation and the general atmosphere (certainly not the local atmosphere), the two of them had gone nose-blind, and the cheetah himself had gone butt-numb to the slick, sludgy sewer swamp in his pants.

Peggy the fowl had gone to tend to other customers, then suddenly taken flight when Ricky, Mort, and Mark were using enema bags they'd likely filled at the nearest public fountain to hose down Beatrice's shirt, which of course made the garment translucent to reveal her breasts. Peggy was immensely graceful about the situation, and though her speech was inaudible across the great bridge separating Medical from Furniture, Cey and Key observed her pointing out the features of the medical device instead of kicking them out.

Melinda, flanked by two Praetorian guards, were not so patient with the Stupid commotion, and the gangbangers found themselves compelled to purchase three shiny enema bags. Peggy congratulated them on their exquisite taste.

"Yeah, those Hollywood parties," said Kioga, his lip crinkling into a smirk. "Nothing for me there because I'm not interested in kids."

Ceylon's eyes widened. He'd managed to undo the tapes of Kioga's diaper and the saturated flap was merely resting over his groin at this point. "Well that's very good to hear."

"Yeah; their dicks are too small and they have no money."

The gryphon snorted and returned to his "very" mature boyfriend. The thin-shelled medical diaper was indeed very honest with its purpose, though incredibly ungainly with its deformation. One could decide, Ceylon thought, that it could be very unprofessional or anti-romantic to wear such slovenly garments, but on the other paw, this was indeed its strict purpose.

As Kioga kept hammering on, Ceylon reflected as he opened the floppy plastic bag to reveal a fist-sized mountain of urine-swollen polymer and a lumpy and wide muddy river further back, there was preciousness in honesty and nudity. And this diaper, back from battle swollen and soiled and ragged, was in a pitiful state ... which filled Ceylon with actionable pity.

No, no, not pity ... empathetic pride. Ceylon was a diaper superhero and here was a poor citizen in desperate need of a change. And he would happily, magnificently save the day.

"Is it bad?" asked Kioga.

Ceylon shrugged. "Honestly, I'd be disappointed if it wasn't a wet, fecal disaster," he said, though it could be occasionally trying to find that he'd opened up a fifteen minute, and not a five minute job.

"C'est la vie!" he said to his boyfriend.

Ceylon gave him a sardonic cringe, his fingers curled and ready with wipes. "I'm glad you possess the grace up top to countermand this supremely indecorous situation down below."

"But thank you, really."

The gryphon shrugged and got to wiping, angling his wet and soft sanitary towels toward the interior of the cheetah's brown-slathered buttocks. He forewent the little sprayer hose-brush attached to the side of the table. "I get to play with diapers and get to fondle you, so it's symbiotic, really." With that, he angled his finger, his curved talon sheathed in a multi-folded wipe, against Kioga's wet anus and wiped him from the inside.

Penetrated, the cheetah arched his back and pushed his hips into the air. "Ah," he expressed, feeling a warm finger slide against his silky, wet innards, "m-make sure to get in deep!" His sheath was already widening, and his balls, dipped in bad chocolate, tightened against his pelvis.

"What do you think I'm doing?" the gryphon said with a humid whisper. Ceylon himself, hefting a healthy lump of wet padding between his thighs, winced as his metal chastity cage filled and pulled on the back of his balls.

"J-just, hah, don't do anything Stupid," Kioga whispered. As his hips rose, his tail slid through the aperture of the messy diaper, and the garment itself clung to his buttocks for a hot second before thudding, quietly, back down on the changing table.

Blushing and squeezing his legs against a warm, wet diaper and the spicy pinch of his male chastity, Ceylon took another cloth and began to "wipe" his boyfriend's stiffening penis.

"Phhh," was all the cheetah could muster as the gryphon swirled a cloth around his rectum, the pressure firm and smooth. His cock swelled inside the steadily-warming moist wipe, Ceylon's hand enveloping him and stroking him, and his legs vibrated as he kept his hips up above the defiled diaper.

Ceylon flicked his eyes upward and saw that the clerk was fielding questions from their friends. Other employees were on the other side of the screen. No one was around, so he pushed forward to satisfy his greed. His wrist, thankfully sheathed in Invisible Glove, had little marks of his boyfriend's mess, and his finger was lavishly clenched by an organ as indulgent as it was unreliable. Kioga's hips and his manhood bucked against his paw. The gryphon tossed the wipe and went to stroking the hard rod directly, then licked his lips as the tip beaded with clear liquid and then spilled down all over his paw in healthy trickles. He took the wipe out of Kioga's ass and shoved his naked finger back in. Then added another.

"Shhhit, I'm gonna need a wipe," Kioga whispered, his arms and legs spread, his chest heaving with light, quick breaths.

"You're gonna need a few," the gryphon hissed, his mind buzzing and his eyes bright and wide. He greedily drank in the sight of his messy, writhing boyfriend, finger-fucking him and tugging him off with increasingly slick paws.

"Here and now?" the usually-edgy (and now edged) male whispered, his body dominated by two firm, hungry hands.

"And then when we get back home. Maybe in the morning, too. I gotta eat three times a day," the gryphon growled. "Now keep going."

"Aaah," Kioga whimpered, his body tensing up, "oooh, fuck yes, fuck haaaah..."

Ceylon felt a wet gush against his lower fingers, but with the Gloves the brown droplets running over his fingers and fist didn't faze him. His top paw was a mad, slick blur, pumping Kioga for pre so he could coat the stiff shaft over and over. The slipperier it got, the more it poured, and the more the cheetah mewled. The gryphon's grip firmed, his other hand hastened, and soon it seemed that he was milking Kioga for vocal expressions as well as cock fluid.

"I-is there anyone coming?" Kioga whined.

Ceylon smirked. "Aren't you?"

"I, oof ... yeah! Yeah there it goes," groaned the cheetah, and Ceylon reached for a wipe ... purposely slow. "Wh-what are you doing?! ...Ah!" was the last thing he managed before the gryphon aimed Kioga's cock completely vertical, then watched with lusty, dominant amusement as the cheetah's anus buckled down on his fingers and his penis shot skyward.

These were big fucking ropes. Thick, pearly cables of cum flung themselves as high as the privacy screen, unbelievably long and barely breaking off from the tip before their apex curved back down. One, two, three fat and long strings burst into the air, then came back down and whapped, splatted down on Kioga's stomach, on his thighs, on his balls, and in his splayed open diaper, adding to the contents of it.

"Hhhhoh..." the exhausted male trembled, his entirety twitching in a wet, musky, stinking detritus of bodily excretions.

Ceylon, caged, aroused, wet, and pinching, let a long, warm breath out as his own desires mixed with cooling, mutual satisfaction. The sight alone of his boyfriend flopped out in a pool of ecstasy ... among other things ... was not only a sight of immense gratification for Ceylon, but also that of pride. He did this, and it made him incredibly happy to be able to.

"Phhhew," Kioga sighed, his grin delirious and his eyes sparkling. "Thank you, love; but what about yours?" When he asked, he stretched his foot out and stroked the front of the gryphon's round, squishy groin.

"I got mine," he said with a pleasured growl. "And I'll get mine later, too."

"Should we take the table to go?"

Ceylon snorted, his feathers ruffling at the cold shock of comedy. His emotional cauldron swirled and bubbled. "After the memories we made on it?"

"I guess you could call scat the memories of food..."

"You shut up; we're having a moment!" the gryphon hissed. "But yes, my dearest, whom I love and revel with in our sincere moments. This piece of furniture seems very practical and it has the added benefit of nostalgia."

"Hee," said Kioga, then shakily sat up. The flap of his onesie promptly fell back down, over his stomach, and landed not only on his penis, but his cum and dung-soaked diaper. "I, dammit."

"Moment," corrected Ceylon, then pushed the cheetah's chest to get him to lay back down. "Ah, you're a messy one; what am I going to do with you?"

"All the above, hopefully."

"All that and more, absolutely," the gryphon said with a hot blush of caretaking, lust, and mirth. "But we have a lot to get done before we can get back to you."

Ceylon easily shifted into the mode of a chore juggernaut, dutifully and intently scrubbing his boyfriend's messy buttocks, perineum, and testes and piling up wipes in the diaper's crotch until it was a dragon's hoard of skidmarked petals. He propped Kioga's legs up on the mobile stirrups, then rolled the disaster garment up and bagged it. The Smart-Pail was plugged in, and into the trash the diaper went, followed by an automatic closing of the lid and a cute nursery jingle to confirm the deposit. Ceylon then stripped Kioga's smudged onesie off his body, balled that up as well, and slipped it into a thick printed plastic baggie that said, '"Today Laundry, pls~."

Kioga lay contentedly on his back, naked, beautiful, and clean; and Ceylon wondered if he liked seeing him more in the onesie and diaper or completely in the buff. He looked very good in public/professional clothing as well; perhaps he just liked seeing him. But naked: Ceylon liked seeing Kioga naked. The fine, flexible body was all his, all the way from his lips and mouth to his buttocks and tailhole. His blush continued, happily and electrically remembering what he'd just been doing to that pretty black wrinkle.

"Hehe," the gryphon said, "maybe I'll just keep you here for a bit. Find some straps for those diapering stirrups."

"Goodness, and if they catch us?" the cheetah said with a purr.

Ceylon crawled up onto the changing table; set his warm, swollen diaper right on Kioga's limp penis, and kissed him on the mouth. The cheetah quickly responded by pulling the gryphon tight against him, and the two were soon locking lips, sticking their barbed tongues together, and trying to grind Kioga's rehardening dick through a layer of onesie and a layer of soaked gel.

"We really gotta stop," the cheetah whispered, the rest of his body not listening. "I'm pretty sure they won't put us in the same cell, or even classroom."

"I know, I know," the gryphon hissed, trying to push himself up from Kioga and finding their chests were two magnets. He managed to peel himself up just enough to start pinching the cheetah's nipples, and he could practically feel Kioga's hot groin through his moist padding.

"Save it for home," the cheetah said, though he found his claws drifting to the metal snaps in the crotch of the gryphon's onesie.

"Yeah, yeah," Ceylon agreed, but then he heard the classic pop-pop-pop of his garment's fastenings. His onesie's bottom flew up, flashing a white-base, cub-printed plastic diaper which had considerably grown in the front and yellowed with multiple bladder yieldings.

They both had to pause, unfortunately, and they craned their heads around the room. No one was around them, currently, but if the only thing they could see was each other's muzzle, and the only thing they could hear was each other's grunts and moans, then it'd be a near-guarantee. Especially if the gangbangers rattled by and (likely) hooted, hollered, and applauded at their explicit, gay diaper sex.

Ceylon felt his abdomen rumble and his lusty, dazed gaze turned into a smile. "...one more naughty thing," he said, rising to his knees astride Kioga.

"Oh," the cheetah said with a purr. He reached out and brushed the plastic, heavy front of the gryphon's diaper. "Do you need to be excused?"

"Nah, this diaper's about done anyway," the gryphon purred back. He lowered his hips and swished the firm, sagging underside against Kioga's cock. When it dragged across the tip, Kioga left a wet, sticky mark. "Might as well finish it."

Kioga smiled and set his paws on Ceylon's hips, squeezing gently. "Better get going," he said.

Sex and intimacy have a funny way of making the most private, precarious act into another opportunity for trust and honesty. As Ceylon's face straightened with the first signs of effort, and Kioga felt his hip muscles flex beneath his paws, the two partners felt any clouds of hesitation open up and the act commenced in full sunlight.

The gryphon leaned forward and rested his paws on Kioga's shoulders. Their muzzles came together and they gently nuzzled, then Ceylon softly braced himself with a small grunt. Over the top of his shoulder, Kioga faintly made out the tip of the gryphon's tail as it rose. The outside of his heavy diaper was faintly cool against the cheetah's genitals, and his body was firm as Kioga felt faint, warm gusts of breath through his nose, then a quiet rustling sound further back.

"Mmm," Ceylon grunted as his diaper swished and sagged in the back. The two locked eyes and then smiled, rubbing noses, until Ceylon pulled Kioga slightly upwards and hugged him firmly, the pressure exerted by his arms reflecting his effort down below.

The gryphon's hugs came in intermittent squeezes, and the cheetah felt a dry, soft, weighty warmth spread out on his thighs. He blushed, embracing his partner tightly as he went through his ministrations, and then soon came a second grunt and a subtle thud as the plastic pulsed.

"There we go; keep pushing," Kioga whispered, stroking Ceylon's back.

"Mmph," the gryphon managed with a heave. A few natural, muffled sounds issued from under his tail, then a more moist crackling as he exhumed the rest. The hug became steady, and the two rested against each other, the cheetah gently scratching Ceylon's back with his claws.

"This is nice," Kioga purred, getting the first earthy whiff of solid matter.

"Oof, was and is. Always fairly intense, I hope you don't mind," Ceylon purred back, then gave him, and himself, one final squeeze before kissing him on the cheek. "I think it's my turn."

The cheetah giggled and nuzzled him. "Ah, it's all a part of us. The naked, honest truth."

"Heh," said Ceylon, leaning back on Kioga's legs. At the first sign of squishing the material against himself, he lifted his hips. "But you can put makeup on reality. Which is to say, not to cover it up, but perhaps decorate it to make it more pleasant, according to your taste."

"I suppose it's time for a change?"

"Yes, but perhaps we may have to save the second part for a more private setting."

"Ah, if you insist," the cheetah said with a smirk. He was already nearly hard again, but it was what it was.

"But you first," Ceylon said with an agile slide. He dismounted the table, gingerly making sure he didn't bump the enlarged rear of his diaper on anything, then snapped himself up. It was a warm, pleasant present, but not the best of fragrances. The feeling, too, was one of mixed sensations. On one paw, it was indeed gratifying to have augmented the size of his diaper: the front and back were proudly enlarged, and their bulk contributed to the notion of protection by making it a bigger cushion for the loins. A dry diaper of the same size would have had a fantastic capacity, and so it added to the feeling of security, though of course this one was filled by now. It looked enormous, but could hold very little more. What it symbolized, however, was magnificent.

Excepting the area within his disposable plastic brief, the gryphon was completely clean, even though he had relieved himself of waste. And while he greatly appreciated that his bathroom airbag had deployed during his "accident," it was indeed time for a change.

Out of Kioga's leather diaper bag, savoring the last few minutes of a wet and solid bulk waddling against his sensitive nethers, Ceylon extracted a spare, fresh onesie (a frequently prudent idea) and set that to the side. Neither one commented on the pillowy, silky, cloud-white diaper that Ceylon had selected, and the cheetah himself let out a soft, pleasured sigh as the thick absorbent fabric touched his buttocks.

Re-diapering the cheetah was like wrapping a kitten in a fuzzy blanket, and once the tapes were in place, the dry brief easily stuck out an inch from the front and back, and two inches beyond his groin.

"It's not too big?" the gryphon questioned.

"No, actually," Kioga said, swooshing around in the consuming pillow. "Everything is flush against my person."

"Oh!" Ceylon said with a wag. "Then I'll take a temp. We'll have to get a stylized one from the ComfortABDL section."

"Better get to hydrating," Kioga said with a smirk, then leaned up to allow the onesie over his head. The lynxsprey did have to bite his bottom lip when the groin strap had to stretch a little bit for its snaps to meet. He leaned up and the two kissed, then switched places for another dirty diaper change.

Ceylon's was not a swamp of slime as much as it was a couple of distinct sticky cylinders that had left smudges on his anatomy. His urine, being half-feline, was markedly musky, and the diaper strap which had soaked up his excretions was swollen and yellowed from extended wear.

Moderating himself between efficiency and compassionate care, Kioga went about cleaning his boyfriend's undercarriage, carefully moving combed wipes about the curves of his buttocks and through the passage of his thighs. His paws maneuvered softly about Ceylon's sensitive scrotum, and he used the pad of his finger, keeping the claw out of the way, to push gently against his anus to wipe away residue on the surface and the beginning of the interior.

Kioga enjoyed both the intimacy of the act, and the normalization thereof: on one paw, it was the excretory passage which indeed had deposited rods of fetid waste plainly visible and scentable before him. On another paw, it was a nerve-filled pocket through which sexual congress could be performed, thereby affirming the partnership of lovers. Yet, it was merely a body part integral to the rest of him. Oh well: in sickness and in health; in cleanliness and in filth.

Perhaps it was the sensitivity of the area that generally precluded it from being exposed, but frankly Kioga had no problem breakfasting with Ceylon with both of them completely naked. There might be a small puddle for him to clean after the meal, but the gryphon was perfectly fine. He was mighty easy on the eyes, too, when he got up from his gaming chair to walk to the bathroom. In that context, then, a diaper was a matter of convenience.

Kioga finished cleaning Ceylon's pelvic area and wrapped his loins in one of his "temp" or "donut" diapers, a decently absorbent and form-fitting brief that was good for perhaps a couple of wettings: really, just to get a person to his nearest nursery. Then came on the onesie and then both the lovers were fresh and clean, sharing a hug and a nuzzle before moving to the next attraction of the great Carcer Gift Shop.

"Oh," the cheetah paused, pushing his cart past the bio-friendly washing machines with their own cloth diaper settings. "How, uh, do we get a wheeled vehicle down there?" he asked, leaning over the edge of the Life Furniture section to the darkened pit below.

"There's got to be an elevator somewhere," said the half-lynx, though his eyes searched for one for a long extent. "I'm sure they've found some way to intermix modern convenience with the hieratic aesthetic."

"Yeah, huh," responded Kioga, and his eyes glanced to a pathway beyond the changing tables, a double-lane gantry leading to a sort of bucket lift. "Oh," he said, then pushed his cart toward it. Branching off from the gantry was a double-wide obsidian staircase leading, as one of two tributaries, the other coming from Medical boutique, to a wider staircase leading down into an area proudly marked, in Gothic spikes and golden art deco font, Spinneret Dungeon.

The cheetah clicked the front of the cart into the lift, which immediately began descending with their merchandise. They took the stairs, keeping one set of paws to the railings, and the other interlocked with each other's, as they traveled into the darker bowels of the temple's lower floor.