FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Disclaimer: If it's not in your taste or your wheelhouse of fetishes, then it is not for you. If you are below the age for Adult Content, it is not for you.

Everyone else is entreated to enjoy.

Kioga the young intern cheetah sat in his soiled office chair in his pungent office, stewing in his own scat and urine which presently, mostly, was trapped against his loins in a store-bought adult diaper that had dramatically failed. He sat in offal that was slowly cooling around his hips and cooling faster against the leg that it'd leaked down. Every time he shifted there issued a muted crinkle through his ruined slacks. His store-bought was heavy with what burden it was able to bear before having failed and becoming completely moot as a protective garment.

Now his slacks had an enormous dark spot just below his crotch, below his diaper, and beyond it was a chestnut stripe streaking down the inseam to a dirtied penny loafer and the fecal hunk of crayon that had drawn it. Yes, it'd been too much, and could Kioga have forseen the events of the day he would have assuredly worn something thicker to work, even if it meant risking the tell-tale butt bulge.

Jokingly, Kioga reflected on wearing a European Ultra to the office so his coworkers could all day delight in the melodious sing-song of grocery bags. Kioga had one European Ultra with him at present: it rested on the desk and was defaced all over with office stamps reading "FINAL NOTICE," "URGENT," and "FOR DEPOSIT ONLY." The defacing, and his current situation below the waist, had all been part of a malicious prank.

The cheetah knew this gastrointestinal meltdown, and resulting biological fallout that surrounded his posterior, was no fault of his own. This accident was no accident. While the cheetah stewed in waste he stewed in his mind: what started this cataclysmic chain of events--a veritable mudslide, were he to be crass (as he had every right to be)--was the cup of strong, black Joe that sat on his desk.

They knew he had a sensitive stomach. Wesley the coyote, his office mentor, and the five post-fraternity hooligans he associated with, had given Kioga the old switcheroo. Wesley bought an Americano triple espresso for himself and a watery decaf for Kioga--a cup of "Joey" as the cheetah called his bland preference--and switched them. And after Kioga's large and bland breakfast had patiently made its way down to the staging area, well...

The writing was on the walls of his diaper and elsewhere; his bowels had been so loquacious.

And now the cheetah sat with desk paws interwoven, elbows on desk, and his chin resting on his outstretched thumbs, waiting. A wolf, the beta male of Wesley's pack, was on his way to change him.

Kioga and this wolf, whom the cheetah recalled as named "Lugo," had some history. It wasn't anything romantic; their past interactions were hardly amicable. But now that the wolf's senior bullies were forcing him to change an adult's diaper, Kioga recalled there was something peculiar about Lugo. Lugo knew that Kioga wore diapers, and had found out in a most embarrassing way.

The cheetah sat back in his mess and reflected, ears twitching to the mush and crinkle.

About five months ago, when Kioga was relatively new but still known to his coworkers, Wesley et al, the incontinent intern had a rather "damp" day. It was time for an afternoon change, and so the cheetah skirted off to one of the more private bathrooms in his workplace to toss the old soak-sack out and throw on a new one. To him it was routine; he'd been incontinent for years, and so it was with blithe interest and keen efficiency that he scanned the restroom for occupants, saw no one at the urinals and no legs below the stall walls, and then slipped into a stall himself with his laptop bag.

His supply bag.

With two learned paws, he simultaneously undid the bag and his business slacks, letting the latter fall past his swollen briefs as the former pulled out a flat, fresh store-bought. The brand was good and it came at a cheap price, was delivered to his door discreetly every month and despite their stellar ease of concealment under a pair of normal slacks, their diapers sported considerable capacity. The tapes were a little clingy, but that was his only complaint. Presently, the cheetah took a moment to rub the heavy bulge that hung in front of him, squishing the warm padding against his crotch and getting a little rise for his troubles.

Kioga blushed, but he cast the sexual notion aside and willed himself to keep going. Pinching each of his thumbs and forefingers around the top set of tapes, he yanked out with a flick of his wrists, which unfortunately brought him nothing.

The tapes stayed fast.

The cheetah uttered a small curse and wiped the pads of his fingers against his bare spotted legs, clearing what oils might be on them, and then tried again. And again, his fingers popped right off; the tapes were tenacious! Grumbling louder and wrapping his paws around the tapes, his diaper crinkling loud enough that it may mask other sounds, such as pneumatic bathroom doors swinging open, Kioga peeled the tapes from the loud plastic bit by bit, tearing some of the material in the process, exposing the absorbent fluff beneath.

"Intern, is that you?" a brutish voice asked. There weren't many cheetahs on this floor and Kioga had skinny legs. "Key...Kioga? You making popcorn in there; what are you doing?"

The cheetah had no time to react, much less to cover up, before the muscular wolf stiff-armed through the stall door, overpowering its measly bolt lock, and found himself standing face-to-face with a wiry male cheetah wearing a pressed office shirt, striped tie, and a swollen diaper hanging from his hips.

Letting out a bark of surprise, the wolf stumbled back and landed against the bar of sinks, his eyes gone wide.

"Dude, wow, sorry, I..." he rambled, spouting out fragmented sentences as invariably, his eyes locked on the sagging garment hanging from the cheetah's hips, its tapes happily compromised.

"... but you were drinking coffee all morning, so it makes sense that ..."

Kioga quickly lunged forward for the door, hampered both by the heavy sack between his legs and his office slacks, which presently wrapped around his ankles served as manacles. He waddled his way to the portal and pulled it shut, and was immediately stopped again by a curious wolf with an even curiouser tenting in the front of his pants. The silhouette of a cola bottle formed in them.

"Dude, hang on," Lugo said, barely a few years his elder, "I didn't mean to be so forward. This means nothing to me. You obviously wear those things for a reason, and that's information that nobody is required to know. I'm not keen on dudes; I'm about the vixenistas."

The wolf was clearly rambling, trying to seem reasonable, awkwardly drawing phrases and sentiments from a mental bank poorly stocked and disorganized by many late-night benders. Kioga squeezed his paws together, in front of his exposed diaper, and tried to nod as to seem understanding.

As if the wolf was the one who needed consolation.

"Look, look, look. I shouldn't have barged in on you," he said awkwardly, adjusting his tie, Human Resource reprimands flying through his head, "but I heard a weird sound and thought to investigate. Stay vigilant, you know?" Lugo asked, posing like some unprinted propaganda.

A warm trickle filed down Kioga's leg, cutting rivulets through his fur. The cheetah felt it and the wolf saw it, watching curiously as it darkened the cheetah's dark sock.

"Get out?" Kioga begged. He tried to avoid the wolf's lewd bulge.

"Yeah, totally," the wolf said, throwing up a paw as he exited the stall quickly, and then made a quick one-eighty to unzip and piss into a urinal.

Kioga let out a grumble that echoed through the tiled bathroom, noisily ripping the tapes off his diaper and, in the usual routine, pulling the garment off in a dip of his hips before rolling it up into itself and retaping it with whatever adhesive was left in the small tabs. This was done in parallel with the loud noise of pissing, the babbling stream of urine hitting water and urine and amplified by the ear-shape of the porcelain urinal. It strangely harmonized with the crackle of a plastic diaper being wrapped up and disposed of. That sound of open pissing drew Kioga's ear, and the cheetah acknowledged a certain envy of the wolf's ability--one shared by most persons of their hairy races: the agency to piss where one pleased. Kioga set the rolled-up diaper next to the flat fresh one that'd replace it.

Well, he didn't have that, and the cheetah groused against this fact as he drew poor, flaky office toilet paper against his wettened fur, brushing off the clumps and strands of tissue that caught as he soaked up the newest leakage that, in finding no quarter within its swampy environ, ran coursing down his leg. The wolf had kept him there too long.

Done and done, Kioga opened up his new store-bought diaper as Lugo outside flushed and slapped his paws against his pants, which was likely the extent of his hygienic reparations.

"Want some help, bro?" the wolf asked, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Bro? Of all terms of endearment, bro? The cheetah wanted to say get out. Fuck off! Leave me alone! It was somehow within the wolf's power to make Kioga again feel alien in his pelt, that his urine problem was one for ridicule, for fun and games. Yet Lugo held a certain curiosity about him when he'd barged in; the sustained eye contact on the cheetah's armored loins was not one that the cheetah would soon forget.

"I'm good," he finally said to Lugo, "I'm an expert at this point!" he joked.

The wolf laughed and banged his fist against the stall in fraternal salute.

"A'ight, man, well you take care of business taking care of your business." He said redundantly. Kioga noted the poorly masked awkwardness.

"You can leave now!" he shouted.

And this time, in the much more gratuitous present, Lugo was going to be walking in on Kioga knowing the full implications of the cheetah's bathroom needs, and under his pack's ruling was in forced service of aiding their capricious course. The wolf hadn't seen the full display of Kioga's startling rectal promptitude but had certainly heard it over his tinny laptop speakers during Wesley's malicious webcam prank. Now, he was to bring rectitude to the prank with long dish gloves, alcohol-free sanitary wipes, a bucket, and a hygiene mask, all borrowed from a vexed janitor who'd offered his services and had been hastily rebuked.

A loud rumble shot through Lugo's own stomach and he braced his forearm against it. The wolf wasn't sure if it was anxiety that had suddenly put him at unease, or some abstract form of karma that seemed to be fingering the rope of a cosmic guillotine, waiting for the wolf's neck to pass over the patient basket.

Whatever powers may be, Lugo's breakfast (habitually composed of fast-food leftovers, cuisine not uncommon for the cocksure wolf) was not settling well. But Lugo would not fill his pants. There was only one bulge that would ever fill Lugo's pants, and that always happened in the front at the sight of comely "vixenistas," as he called them: Lugo was a brick house built on a foundation of German herbal liqueur, energy drinks that tasted like Godzilla's piss, and sacks of late-night dollar burgers.

Still, he had to make this quick.

Kioga's office was at the end of the hall by the fire escape. It'd be a couple of turns for Lugo and he'd be there. The long walk afforded Lugo an agonizing amount of time to think, which he did with sweat compounding on his forehead and an erection swelling within a pair of old white briefs that were slowly fraying at the edges and stained in the back for his unrequited trusting of farts.

To wit, Lugo was within the same pecking order as Wesley and the rest, but it was a pecking order regularly checked, and by his rolling on the floor and laughing at Wesley's prank--possibly spoiling it--Lugo was the one offered up as payment when Kioga challenged them for recompense.

"Who's going to change me?" he had said, pristine above the waist and a digestive disaster down below. The brotherhood of hooligans offered up Lugo on the spot. Since the cheetah's dignity had been thoroughly despoiled and therefore was no longer prey for them, it was time for a new victim, a new neck for the fraternal guillotine.

It wasn't as if Lugo minded, however. He slid a paw into his pocket and rotated his tumescent length up into his waistband. There was not a prominent smell when the wolf reached the end of the hall, though he'd been expecting one the entire way over. It was just a byproduct of an active and wandering imagination. Then he opened the door and let out a gasp, the muted smell of bland, earthy scat filling his nostrils. Kioga was quick to admonish him, standing from his seat and revealing to the wolf that he'd discarded his pants long ago.

"Close the door!" the cheetah hissed.

It was a sight that enraptured the wolf's mind, and the smell of which intoxicated him as he blindly closed the thick door behind him. Kioga appeared in a far worse state than when Lugo walked in on him before: at present, his tortured garment hung even lower, almost to his sheath; and it was far heavier, with a smear of brown muck dappled along his thin spotted leg. The cheetah's head was pulled to the side looking to the wall as the wolf gawked at his soiled, half-decent form, ashamed and now a part of a bizarre fraternal ritual. All Lugo's brothers knew what Lugo was there for. They had firmly established it within their sect, and unbeknownst to Kioga had almost broadcast it to the rest.

"So kind of you to come," the cheetah droned, pulling the knot of his tie with one paw and unbuttoning his shirt with the other, revealing a lithe body not unlike a professional swimmer's, albeit with far less muscle. It seemed the only blemish of his appearance was the ungainly garment hanging from his hips, swollen with waste and crackling with his every step forward.

In only his diaper, Kioga walked forward.

Lugo was euphoric and his teeth began to chatter. He felt the bottom of his stomach wetten with precum and his insides roil with tension. He had to pull at the collar of his starched shirt, which was suddenly tight and asphyxiating.

"So kind of you to let me come," he dully recited though his hygiene mask.

Kioga strong-armed a stack of documents off a nearby table and slowly lay upon it, curling his paws against his chest as his hips hauled their burdened padding up over the table, the seat dragging and leaving a wet trail.

"Do what you must," the cheetah said with a sigh, "It's your band of miscreants who put me in this situation. The diapers're on my desk, both of them are, but I'm sure you know which one they want."

It was clear to them both that Wesley et al wanted the European Ultra, besotted with the deprecatory stamps "FINAL NOTICE" "URGENT" and "FOR DEPOSIT ONLY."

Now reclined on the table, the cheetah pulled his knees up, and the wolf's eyes were inextricably drawn to the sagging sack between them, then to the fat yellowed bulge that rested on top, between Kioga's thighs. The sight was intoxicating, summoning another jet of pre to splat against the wolf's stomach.

"I, ah, it's usually not this bad, is it?" Lugo said as he stumbled through Kioga's office, trying not to look at the cheetah and the massive accident piled between the sharp curves of his legs. Lugo's heartbeat was pounding in his ears, echoing. And the smell that permeated the office, soaking every surface in there and emanating off the walls: there was a certain earthy mildness to it that reminded him of beef soup, but it had an acrid edge that flicked him between the eyes and caused them to water.

"Never," Kioga answered with a bitter edge, watching the wolf. His eyes narrowed when the fat, stamped garment was brought into view, and the wolf came back around the corner. A curved, undulating form had fully grown in the front of the wolf's pants: it looked like a smuggled bottle of cola. Even in his reclined state, the cheetah could easily see it, and raised a brow at the sight.

But he did not bring attention to it, and Kioga kept eye contact with the wolf as Lugo stepped alongside him.

"The bucket was a good start, but you may also want a trash bag," Kioga said, shifting in his torn garment. He shifted back when the weighty backside did not follow. The plastic around his brief tapes was in tatters, and some of the soft, yellowed padding was flaking in clumps through the holes. "And not just for the odor."

Lugo wordlessly reached into the bucket and pulled out a crackling roll of bags. Kioga smiled and shifted again, leaning up on his elbows. This squished his diaper into a round mass against his groin, bulging lewdly around his hips as a small line of mess leaked out under his rump. A look of fear suddenly spread across his face and Kioga clenched his jaws, his icy bitterness shaken. His ears fell.

A pall fell over the room, and Lugo became painfully aware of the pungent haze that surrounded them and the source of it, just within arm's reach.

With a start, a desperate ploy to regain ground, Kioga said, "But why don't we get a start on it, eh? Hope you're ready for a real load," weakly echoing a joke Wesley had told him this morning.

And what dreadful foreshadowing it was.

"Just lie down," the wolf growled as he unfolded the fat stamped diaper by the cheetah's head. It crinkled loudly in Kioga's ears. "And I don't have any baby powder. Janitors don't usually stock that, so don't be disappointed," he added, moving down the table.

"Obviously I'm not a baby, so why would I need any..."

-RRRIP-

Lugo tore the cheetah's tapes off his diaper, sending particles of fluff into the air and leaving the tattered front resting alone over the male's groin. With little further ceremony, the wolf yanked dish gloves over his paws, down to each elbow, snapping the rubber on each. And then he opened the soiled garment.

The wolf's thick body jolted backwards as if hit by a punch. As a thick body that'd been hit by many punches, the wolf hardly moved from his spot. Exposed for the first time, the cheetah grew timid and curled his toes as his feet scooted back towards the rest of him. Open to the fresh air, his soggy, soiled diaper reeked in greater fidelity, and could only imagine the digestive detritus he'd wreaked within its confines.

Smelling the svelte male's fear--among other things--Lugo snarked,

"I said a real load, not a weekend project."

The tip of Kioga's sex was peeking from his sheath and was lightly dusted. The wolf looked up at the naked, dirtied cheetah, made eye contact with him and raised his eyebrow. His muzzle remained hidden within its mask, but it was contorted nonetheless. Lugo said nothing, and seemed to tower over him now that Kioga had yielded, the cheetah's mind reeling over lost ground.

"I... it mutes the odor."

The wolf leaned down and came back up, slapping his box of wipes on the table before stabbing his gloved fingers into the aperture and drawing out a wad of wet disposable cloth.

"World of good it's doing," he said, muted through the mask. Kioga felt the wolf's sarcasm, and it made his fur prickle. "Legs up, boy."

"B-boy? No..." Kioga said, but the wolf would have none of it. Dead in the eyes but sporting the same prominent bulge which now ended in a wet spot just above his belt, the wolf slipped an arm under Kioga's legs and pushed them up, flipping the cheetah's ankles out from under him and then high into the air, exposing his lumpy plastic rump. Lugo leveled his forearm high against Kioga's ankles, making a resting place for them, and grabbed hold of one of them to ensure the cheetah'd be far from covered up. Lugo's eyes happened across a swollen sheath as he maneuvered his fistful of wipes above Kioga's tail, hidden under the diaper and twitching with every advance.

Kioga saw where he was looking and released a low mewl before he knew what he was doing, bringing more sparks to his groin which was already musky and stained, smeared with emission and excretion. As the cooling sensation of wet cloth pressed against his entrenched tailhole, Kioga let out a lustful moan and faintly, somewhere deep inside his clouded mind, regretted his challenge.

"I-I've been doing this myself for a long time. W-why don't you grab a drink with the bro's?" he stammered, aghast as his spiny prick pushed from its sheath and flared against his flat stomach, leaving a slimy trail.

There was a loud splat as Lugo threw a wad of rags and scat into the empty bucket, heedless of the plastic bags he'd set aside. The wolf leaned around Kioga's raised legs and glared at him, eyes shining like the moon.

"They're brothers," he growled, reaching around Kioga's skinny spotted thigh with a gloved paw. To the cheetah's horror, it was caked in his own clay.

"No, h-hold on," he stammered, trying to scoot back. The wolf pulled him back by his ankle.

"And it looks like I'm doing you a favor," Lugo added, smearing muck on the cheetah's prick.

His paw didn't leave. While the wolf's other arm kept his legs suspended, Kioga watched in a thick daze as a dirty kitchen glove worked his cock into a full erection and then stopped, wiping the remnants on his ivory-white stomach and leaving streaks.

Kioga mewled as precum pooled on his belly. This was how it was going to be. Something broiled in his mind, however: did he have to submit to this beta male?

There were bigger fish to fry...

The wolf went back to wiping, his own erection pulsing obscenely as he slid the loaded garment out, wrapped it up, and then disposed of it in the same bucket. He grabbed the fat new one and slid it under, which is when the cheetah's paw suddenly shot out and grabbed his wrist. Kioga knew it was a gamble, a power play. When the wolf didn't retract his arm, he knew he was in a position of dominance, despite his rump remaining grandly besmirched.

They made eye contact.

"Why don't you try the European Ultra, Lugo?" the cat said with a grin, flicking his eyes downward to the thick Coke-bottle bulge straining the wolf's slacks. "You like diapers. I saw you in the restroom; you couldn't take your eyes off my little leaker. That EU is one of the best diapers ever; I couldn't be so selfish as to keep it to myself."

The wolf lurched to object; a clear line of sweat had broken out on his forehead. Though his muzzle was hidden by his hygiene mask, Kioga could see the lines of a grimace in the corners. He tugged on the wolf's paw again, which is when he heard the wolf's guts rumble. His teeth flashed brightly when he smiled.

"Seems like you could use it, too."

His gamble had paid off. The wolf backed away from him, letting the cheetah's ankles down. Kioga snapped his fingers and pointed at him.

"That doesn't mean that you're done! Aren't you forgetting something?" he asked, indicating the messy detritus that lay under him, molded into a long fin by the curves of his soiled rump. "The store-bought is on my desk, and then I will change you. Do it, wolf. Or should I call you 'puppy?'"

Lupo responded with a whine, but he did his diaper duty diligently. He cleaned the skinny cheetah with a grand number of wipes; so intensive was the filthy process that he would use a couple of wipes on his forehead. The process felt like it was taking hours to complete, so new was this intimate service. It did nothing to calm the fires down below: the wolf's wet spot had spread to the waistband of his slacks, and his knot had swollen immensely, showing as two obvious orbs against his tortured zipper. With a trembling paw, Lugo wiped the smears off Kioga's stomach and then went to his cock, which the cheetah smacked away quickly.

"No, puppy, that's for grown-ups," the cheetah admonished, snapping his fingers. "I think you've dawdled enough."

The store-bought was on him in no time, taped up with an awkward set of inexperienced paws. Kioga's modest cock bulged the front out, but there were bigger fish to fry and it seemed that this tape-job would hold at least long enough for the next change. It would stay on his hips. And it probably wouldn't leak. The day was turning into complete lunacy, and it wasn't even over. The intern would just have to complete the rest of his work tomorrow, because today went right down the pisser.

Actually, no. It didn't. It thundered like a torrential mudslide into the back of his diaper, exceeded the pleated levees, and then ran tumbling his leg, only to be recently scooped into a large wash bucket so it all could be thrown out and largely forgotten about. They'd gotten used to the smell of the slop bucket, and the scent itself was dying out as the offending material dried out.

"On the table," the svelte male instructed as he slid off his changing station, happy to be clean and crinkling in a fresh one. The thin diaper was all that he was wearing, and for the time being, it was all he needed to wear. A nervous tremor shot through his knees whenever his cock rubbed against the padding, though with how nervous Lugo seemed to be handling himself, Kioga could bet this detail would be overlooked.

With a whimper, the wolf clambered onto the table which creaked under the larger male's weight. Lugo had plenty more muscle than was necessary for any of his daily tasks, whether that be to push pencils, slam tequila shots, or pinch a vixenista's ass at the copier and at the bar. And now, Kioga was entreated to a new facet of this predator, this testosterone-fueled bully: it was the face only shown to the wolf's fraternal brothers, the higher-ups in their pack-minded pyramid. That ancient pack mentality, which once had been practiced in loincloth tribes and was prolonged through the ages, was well-regarded by any group of males willing to sacrifice scruple for the sake of domination.

It was survival of the fittest: some would win, some would lose.

And because Lugo was still part of a dominant, ravenous pack, he was conversely susceptible to cocksure acts of manipulation. This included the one at present that possessed Kioga: this rail-thin diaper-kitten intern that rode the bus to work and couldn't take a strong drink. As Lugo lay upon the table, his cock madly pulsing in his slacks as if to burst right through them and leaking precum as his forehead leaked sweat, his arms trembling like they'd done too many dumbbell deadlifts; he looked at Kioga, this twerpy diaper-twig with no girlfriend and a small office, and his tail curled in.

With the European Ultra cradled in his arm like a thick tome, the cheetah opened the fat front panel and stared at Lugo.

"Strip," he said, standing in place.

"B-but," the wolf stammered, "I thought I was a puppy?"

The words were music to Kioga's ears. He couldn't help himself, seeing the wolf's ears fold submissively against his head, as a wicked grin spread across his face and his feline prick swelled into his padding, making his knees tremble once more. A wet circle spread against the head of his cock, and Kioga didn't question the fluid. Instead, he gave a slow nod and set the diaper aside, walking up alongside the wolf's torso and then petting the firm, carved chest.

"You're a very good puppy," he said, and then gripped the knot of the wolf's tie and tugged it down. With gentle manipulations to the wolf's body and a firm voice doing most of the lifting, the cheetah managed to peel every piece of clothing from the trembling male until he was a pile of fur and muscles, sporting a prominent erection that, while not exceptional in size, was stunning in its tensile strength. Lugo was rock-hard, and depending on the type of rock imagined, was literally so.

Kioga was stunned, knocked back at the sight, his tented diaper wetting once more. He had to fight to regain his composure, especially in the light of the garish protrusion in his padding. When Lugo saw how brilliantly aroused the cheetah was, how mutual their physical states were, his cock jolted.

"Glad to see you're enjoying this too..." he said, too stiff to smile.

He was entirely ignored.

"Up," Kioga droned.

"B-b-but my..." Lugo stuttered, indicating his state.

"It's a large diaper, puppy. It can hold your wascally weiner."

Kioga said it with a graven-straight face.

The wolf had no further choice but to whine again, lifting his haunches as the thick, stamped padding was slipped under his rear, then taped around his tail, and (skipping the powder) brought around the rest of his body before being brusquely taped up over his strong erection and smoothed out around the leg gathers.

Lugo watched in stunned silence as it happened. He'd been stripped of all his work clothes--at work, no less--and then had been in seconds wrapped up in a thick diaper originally meant for the office bitch...the office pledge... the intern. His mind reeled: he was in a diaper?! Underwear for people that shit their pants?!

"S-so what now?" he asked as the cheetah moved away.

Kioga folded his arms.

"You tell me," he said, cocking his padded hip to one side and crackling as he did. His front had begun to smooth out from a pulsing wetness, making it grow and sag. "I heard some rumblies in your tumbly earlier."

The babyish condescension made Lugo's ears burn.

"You're wearing the potty, now," said Kioga. "So, if you gotta go..."

Kioga gestured with a blithe flap of his paw, pointing at Lugo's stomach. As if on cue, the wolf's bowels grumbled.

"D-dude..." Lugo said, his shaft throbbing, his mind tumbling. He pushed his paws to his stomach. "I-I-was just wanting to _wear_one, see what it felt like."

The cheetah moved fast in on Lugo and slammed his paws on the table. The fur on the wolf's back went up in spikes. In the air still lingered the smell of Kioga's digestive tumult. "You really want to see how it feels?" the cheetah growled, his diaper bulge hanging, "Then you're going to use the potty like a good boy instead of holding it in like some nervous pup."

He looked up at the clock and Lugo's eyes followed. It'd only been thirty minutes.

"I can wait."

"Uh-huh. Dude, so can..."

The wolf suddenly sat up as a solid mass shifted below his stomach. A whine escaped his mouth as his tail shot straight out behind him and a thunderous fart pummeled the table below through his padding. Lugo's eyes were glazed from the sudden detonation, and he looked at Kioga with a blank, embarrassed stare.

The cheetah had one arm across his stomach and one over his nose--the smell was fierce, pungent; it was practically necrotic--and Kioga secretly thanked his luck he'd already evacuated. His bowels were convulsing in sympathy.

Kioga knew this was only the beginning, and he rushed to Lugo's side.

"Puppy going to be okay?" he asked, "He don't look so good..."

Kioga had trouble maintaining the condescending baby-mincing of his words, and when Lugo looked at him directly it absolutely died out. The wolf let out another blast into his padding, his body rigid and his tail curled against it. The cheetah recoiled again, coughing from the stench.

"Wow, did puppy eat--"

"Dude, shut the fuck up. Hold me," he groaned. There was an urgent vulnerability to his words.

The cheetah reached out and put a paw against his shoulder.

"No! Hold me!" Lugo barked.

Losing what perverted sense of propriety and dominance he'd been creating on the fly, Kioga scrambled up behind Lugo and put his legs on either side of him, pressing his body against the wolf's, diaper front against diaper rump, as his arms wrapped around Lugo's muscled chest. The frat boy, diapered et al, dropped his paws and gripped his own thighs, his entire body going rigid again as his throat opened up and dilated, letting out a low and guttural moan as he pushed. Down below, another part of the wolf's digestive tract opened up and dilated, and Kioga could feel the wolf's tailbase convulse against the front of his own diaper.

Lugo's grunting was quickly constricted as he pushed his mess out, the back of his diaper expanding against Kioga's groin. The muscled wolf could feel his load flatten out against the back of his padding and then spread, filling against his rump and besmirching the fur. Kioga put his wrist against his nose as more of the gas leaked into his office, but he held onto the wolf tight with his other arm as he pooped his pants for the first time in years.

"Jesus, Kioga, is this what--urk!"

The wolf farted again, sending waves rippling up the cheetah's thighs, and then put a muscled arm over the skinny one on his chest. Kioga pressed his diapered groin against Lugo's rump as he shoved another acrid load into his seat, the muffled plastic cracking as it swelled, bulged, and sagged.

The cheetah felt the warmth of the mess against his thighs as the diaper expanded, and he set his chin on Lugo's shoulder, almost used to the smell. He used his other paw, now free, to massage the wolf's stomach.

"There you go, puppy, just let it all out. Use the potty..." he purred.

"Dude, fuck you--hnng!"

Lugo gripped Kioga's paw hard as his body let out a spluttering torrent of scat and gas, sounding like a flooded engine behind a layer of gel and plastic. The European Ultra took it all, and if it could break a sweat, it would have absorbed that as well. As the soft bricks pelted against their padded barrier and the cheetah's swathed crotch behind that, mixing in with the mushy detritus that was already weighing the wolf's hips down and painting his rump a swathe of rusty brown colors, Kioga felt a strange sensation as the bagged warmth surrounded his groin.

Kioga was rock hard in his wet diaper. And as much as the cheetah would try to rationalize that it was because his own skinny, meatless breast was against the rippling muscles bulging through the wolf's soft, furry back, the pulse in his protective pants knew it was something precariously more perverse.

Kioga placed both of his paws on Lugo's thick pectorals and squeezed. The wolf, dazed and breathing heavy, tensing as he squeezed the last out into the sticky mound that molded itself against his crack, let out a pleasured murr.

As if driven by an outside voice, instinct without thought, Kioga massaged the wolf's thick chest as he thrust against Lugo's lumpy diaper. The wolf let out what seemed to be the start of a growl, but it faded into a dumb groan as he felt the warm clay smear against his backside, driven by the pricked prod of something extra.

"Get off the table, bend over it..." the cheetah whispered brusquely.

In a trance, with Kioga firmly affixed to him, gripping him by the chest and thrusting against his sagging seat, summoning crinkles from them both, the wolf easily slid off the table and them braced himself against it, panting with his mouth open. A bit of drool escaped his muzzle and landed on a spot he'd been sitting.

Now they were standing, their height difference was clear. Lugo was a little taller than Kioga, and so as the cheetah ground his diapered prick into the heavy bulge of packaged shit that hung from the wolf's ass, the side of his head thrust up and down between the beta male's powerful shoulder blades. Soon, the cheetah's paws had slid down to grip the wolf's firm hips, just above the diaper that was beginning to slide, and both of them were panting in excitement.

Lugo, having briefly lost his erection during his compulsory evacuation, was back at full mast, with not the slightest care in the world. He'd shit in a diaper like a fucking puppy and now the office pledge...the intern...was now humping his trapped mess, smearing scat against his perky, furry glutes.

It was fucking incredible.

Lugo pushed down the front of his diaper, noting that the office stamps had smeared, and started stroking himself with one paw as he gripped onto Kioga's with the other. Then came a revelation, as he spread his legs and let his diaper sag, feeling the pulverizing prick glancing through his sloppy wreck, his voluminous mess, packing the fragrant mud against him as it angled for his vexed, exhausted tailhole.

He still liked the vixenistas. But this douche behind him, grinding his sweaty body against his ripped back, bashing a wet, warm, and tented diaper against his own messy, plastic-wrapped ass was amazing...

His cola-bottle cock was rock hard once more. Pre was spilling out the tip. Lugo squeezed the cheetah's paw and looked backwards, thrusting in time against Kioga's padded groin.

"Dude," he groaned, "you close?"

A muffled growl against his back gave him his answer, but Kioga spoke anyway.

"Y-yeah, I... hah!"

Kioga gasped and bit down into a clump of the wolf's fur, missing his skin. He panted and he whined, using the last fragment of his conscious mind to reseat his grasp on Lugo's chest and his diaper, pulling himself tight against the wolf's lumpy butt, before his cock erupted into his wet store-bought. Cheetah cum pummeled the soggy material with hard, thick splats, coating his penis as the diaper pushed it back on him.

Lugo was quick to follow. When Kioga ground himself tight under the wolf's tail, Lugo sped up his stroking and finished with spectacular force. As orgasm overtook him and a growl boiled out of his throat, the wolf quickly shoved himself back in his diaper and soaked the padding in cum. He could feel the thick fluid run down his balls and under him into his mess.

"Jesus..." he cursed.

They spent a few moments intertwined, Kioga pinned against the back of him. Eventually, the cheetah broke the silence.

"So, uh, yeah. Lugo, hey."

The wolf was in another place altogether. When he came back to Earth, however, he squeezed the cheetah's paw. It was still tight against his chest.

"So..." he trailed off, pausing to let Kioga's ears rise. "You wanna clean me?"

The young cheetah intern was quick to peel himself from the wolf and stand back. His arms were crossed when Lugo turned around.

"I don't owe you anything after your malicious prank."

The muscled fraternity goon smirked and crossed his arms as well.

"I said do you wanna."

Kioga took a surprised step back.

"I, uh, well. We're gonna need a shower; those sani-wipes only do so much..."

Lugo looked at the clock. An entire hour had elapsed. "Enough so the office doesn't smell us punching out early? Grab a shower at your place?"

"My place?"

"Duh. Mine don't have diapers. I'm assuming yours does."

Kioga couldn't believe his ears. The nerve of this wolf, the craziness of his request, his...

peculiar, pointed interest.

"So do you wanna?"

Kioga couldn't hide a blush from filling out the backs of his ears.

"...I'd love to."