FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

This story is sexually extreme, unsanitary, and should not be viewed nor emulated by those mentally or legally unprepared to enjoy fetishistic adult incontinence or adult content.

Everyone else, shove your paws down your diapers and yank on what you got between your legs.

Shit, shit, shit. Everywhere. Used diapers stuffed in a bucket full of shit, and unused diapers scattered on the floor. Wesley the cocksure coyote, head of marketing, was squatted over his spry office intern cheetah, Kioga, with the seat of his pants ripped open and a muddy layer of scat covering his canine rump. The rest of the chunky, disgusting slop was on Kioga's face, and the cat had two brown, mucky forearms from wiping the material off. Kioga had a diaper at one point, but the store-bought garment had all but disintegrated from the obscene amount of piss he'd put in it, too distracted to change. This diaper, along with another store-bought and a European Ultra, were all piled into a janitor's bucket with an obscene amount of shit, which Wesley's face had plunged into when he was tripped upon entering the room. This was in retribution to the coyote's prank of switching out the incontinent cheetah's decaf coffee with some high-caliber silt and have him violently mess his vanilla-grade protective garment during a video conference call.

Wesley, therefore, also had scat smeared all over his muzzle and face. This fragrant, musky mess had come farting and squelching from the messy, abused tailholes of Kioga, who was now scraping poo off his face into their diaper slop bucket, and the muscular marketing assistant Lugo, a wolf who was now completely naked and sitting on a table in a puddle of his own urine. When Wesley had squatted over Kioga's face and shit himself, wearing Kioga's too-tight pants, the wolf had wet himself out of fear. Now he just sat in cold urine, sucking on an adult-sized pacifier that his "Diaper Daddy" Kioga had given him.

This was all beheld by Evanstrom, a tiger under Wesley's employ who had walked in on them, curious as to why Wesley was taking so long; Wesley, in turn had walked in on Lugo and Kioga when Lugo was taking so long to change Kioga for his--Wesley's--malicious prank. Evan now quickly shut Kioga's office door behind him and crossed his arms, shaking his head at the scene.

"Jesus Christ, Wes," the tiger said, "The Aristocrats? Seriously? You're going to tell me this entire shitshow is some bizarre recreation of that old joke? Because if it is, you're still missing bestiality, incest, and pedophilia. But what a fantastic effort with the waste and..." he sniffed the air, " ... the cum, too. I've known you for a long time, bro, but this is fifty shades of what the fuck."

The coyote was standing, his messy rump hanging out of his torn pants. The front of his pants, the crotch down to his legs, was dark with piss. His ears burned, not that the tiger could see that, and his nose had long grown accustomed to the tear-inducing stench in the air. Evan seemed not to care, though tears formed at the corner of his eyes. Wesley tried to let out a fart in defiance, but it turned wet and ran down his leg. Evan put a paw up to his nose and clenched it shut, waving the inbound gas with his other paw.

"Wes, wear a diaper," the tiger said, beginning to pace the room. The tension in the corners of his muzzle betrayed how vexed he was truly feeling. Evan was mad. "This is a lot worse than anything we've done in college. You were president of the fraternity, bro, an usher every Sunday at the campus church..."

"We could all get fired for this," the coyote said ashamedly, his sheath stirring as the tiger glared at him, "So I'll save you the trouble and call HR."

Wesley walked around Lugo, who let out a whine as he passed him. As he lifted the handset from Kioga's desk phone to his ear, Evan was quick to jab the hook button and look him directly in the eye.

"We're brothers for life and the great Lord has mercy," the tiger said, "and so we're going to call the janitor, bribe the hell out of him, and this is all going to go away. Either we handle it, and this goes away, or the company handles it, it goes viral on the 'net, our customer base dries up, our stock price plummets ... everyone loses their jobs."

"So what do we do?" Kioga asked. The cheetah was standing up and he was naked, soaked from the waist down in his own urine and still brown in the face and chest, reeking of Wesley's turgid leavings.

"That's a good fucking question, intern," Evan said, pulling his boss over by the seat of his ripped pants. He slid his paw in between Wesley's messy cheeks and pushed a finger against his exhausted, shitty tailhole. The coyote grunted and leaned over Kioga's desk, bracing himself as he was penetrated.

"I'm going to get my rocks off," the tiger said, pistoning his finger in and out of the wolf, grimacing as he beheld his striped paw gathering muck, "and then the four of us are going to buy the janitor a nice fucking Christmas present.

"God, you're a tight cunt," Evan snarled into Wesley's ear. He extended his claw while inside the coyote and pricked it against his prostate. Wesley let out a submissive, pained whine, his mouth falling open. The front of his soaked pants tented with a seditious cock that reveled in his demeaning.

Kioga fell into a stunned look of surprise, and he braced himself on the muscular shoulder of his "padded puppy" Lugo.

"Dude..." Kioga whispered.

Lugo pulled his pacifier out with a loud pop. "I know, man. It's fucked up. Come hither, father," he said, suddenly dropping into his British school-pup voice. Lugo had used it earlier during their Adult-Pup roleplay. He pulled the cheetah's head in to lick it clean. Kioga held Lugo close, loving the attention but feeling strange about what he was doing. His cock, however, didn't complain, and soon poured out of its sheath and into the wolf's caring paw.

"You're eating Wesley's scat," Kioga whispered.

Lugo spit out a glob with surprising force, watching it splat against the wall.

"Don't taste like roses, either. But in recompense for your kindness, father," he countered, sliding off of the table and continuing to stroke Kioga as he licked the sticky mess from his face.

"Actually, intern?" Evan interrupted. He'd bent Wesley flat against the desk and was now pounding him with three fingers. His paw, up to the wrist, was covered in the wet, viscous grime that leaked out of the coyote's sloppy pucker, and from time to time he'd wipe it off in long, sticky streaks against the back of Wesley's once pristine and starched executive-level shirt.

Wesley always dressed for the job he wanted, not the job he had. Judging by present appearances, however, the coyote looked like he wanted to be a toilet whore.

"Ev, just get your fucking rocks off so I can get a hot shower," Wesley protested. His cock was straining against the dark front of his ruined slacks, but every time he tried to reach for it the tiger would snatch his paw and slam it back on the table.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Evan asked. He pulled his paw out of Wesley's ass with a loud slurp, then shoved the blackened matter into the coyote's face. "Eat, slut," he commanded.

The coyote assented, cringing and gagging as the foul material made it over his tongue, assaulting his senses and making his eyes water. He lapped and he wretched, struggling with every scoop brought into his muzzle.

"So, intern?" the tiger asked, eyeing the cheetah's erection as the coyote ate his own mess from his paw. "How about you bring that leaky monster over here and fuck the shitty asshole that fucked you?"

The predatory glare in the tiger's eyes passed over to his fellow feline, and the skinny incontinent intern was infected by a sick grin on his dirty face. He pushed his muscular wolf puppy aside, his face wet and in light shades of brown, but cleaner.

"Who, little old me?" the youngest male in the room said as he walked by his file cabinet, grabbing another sports drink to hydrate himself, "But I already have a puppy. But I guess I could take on another..."

"Not the intern," Wesley grunted, his shirt a royal mess, his tailhole aching, and his stomach gurgling with food that'd been through him once already.

"You know the pack's code, bro," Evan said, grabbing the coyote's cock through his pants with his dirty paw and towing him into the center of the room. "You need to know when you get got."

Wesley was exhausted, but he hung his head in acknowledgement. Evan cleared Lugo off the table with a wave of his paw, and the coyote dutifully crawled up on it, laying on his back and putting his bare footpaws up on the edge, spreading his messy ass to display it for the cheetah. Kioga walked to the table's edge and put his paws on Wesley's knees, stroking them through the damp fabric. The cheetah's erection bobbed out in front of him, inches from the table's edge.

Evan grabbed one of the European Ultras scattered on the floor and opened it up. "Wesley's right, intern; you have some prime merchandise. I can see why furs like this stuff. Nothing like the combination of European engineering...and watersports. Not one of my kinks, though. I'm happy for you."

"Ah, thank you?" the cheetah chuckled, trying to keep from blushing. He quickly looked to Wesley, who was spreadeagle before him and tenting so badly Kioga could see his damp ballsac under the lip of the ripped fabric.

"Wesley, are you sure about this?" he asked, squeezing his knees. Even though he stunk of his own urine and mess, and the normally white rump was spattered in brown material that had the consistency of pudding, Kioga openly admitted to himself that the coyote had a wonderful body. He was athletic and trim, though not as obscenely built as Kioga's "padded puppy" Lugo.

"I got got," the coyote weakly chuckled, straining to keep his paws away from his throbbing groin, "besides, you earned it and crazy enough, I want it."

That gave the cheetah a warm smile, and he scooped his arms under the coyote's knees to lift them onto his shoulder. Evan stood aside, ready to watch the two fuck, but then a suckling pop from Lugo's pacifier turned his ear.

He promptly walked over to the wolf and pulled the baba from his muzzle, flippantly tossing it aside. Lugo, the muscular frat wolf in his mid-twenties, let out a long whine. The tiger responded by unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock, pushing the wolf's face down until it was wrapped around his shaft. Evan set the fat diaper aside and thrust into Lugo's muzzle, grunting in pleasure.

Pleasured even further from the blithe, blatant display, Kioga turned back to Wesley and secured his legs high on his bare shoulders, eyes on his own feline sex as he angled it between Wesley's painted cheeks. Kioga hissed with pleasure as he bowed the coyote's tailhole inward, and then let out a deep grunt as the slick scat granted him access and slid him all the way to the hilt. "Oh, God," Wesley groaned as the male plunged into his hole. His own cock strained against his pants, and as the cheetah rolled his hips upward to hilt into him, the coyote's tent pointed right back at his face.

The two males met eyes and Wesley gave a nervous nod. Kioga's hips were now stained from clapping against the coyote's filthy cheeks, and then there was a sticky, resistive sound as he peeled himself away from them. The cheetah pulled his cock out of Wesley's anus until the ring gripped the head, and, seeing his shaft covered in the slime, he pushed back inside.

Kioga gripped Wesley's legs and picked up a rhythm, lustily thrusting into the coyote's besotted bottom. The two of them bucked against each other in passionate, pungent coitus, the coyote's balls bouncing against his soiled taint as the young cheetah pounded into him, snarling with every greasy thrust.

"Oh fuck, Kioga; I'm close..." the coyote groaned.

"One more thing, Wes," the tiger said, pulling his cock free of Lugo's mouth and spraying the "puppy's" face with seed. He shook off the last few dribbles before wiping the head on the wolf's muzzle, then strode naked over to the two, who were frozen with the coyote's rump held firmly against the cheetah's shit-painted hips.

Evan walked over to the head of the table and placed his paws on either side of the coyote's streaked face. His drained cock hovered above Wesley's forehead, and a lagging drop of semen emerged from the tip.

"I get a turn, too," he said.

"Get my cock out, please," Wes grunted at Kioga, then lay his head back down on the table, ear brushing past the tiger's penis. "Do what you need to. I got a wolf that talks like a fake British school-pup while he wets himself, and my intern's pounding my ass using my shit as lube, fucking me right in the seat I ripped out earlier. Then you finger-bang me out of nowhere. So is that my mating call? Shitting myself?"

The tiger paced along the side of the table, dragging his claw along the coyote's clothed body, stopping precariously on the stretched-out mound that dominated the front of his pants. Wes let out a moan of frustrated lust, which made his ring tighten around Kioga's cock, making him hiss in pleasure as well.

With a snap of his wrist, Evan cut a large slit down the front of Wesley's pants and the coyote's shaft flew up against his belly with a slap. "Gah!" he yipped. Kioga began pensively humping into Wesley's sticky sphincter again, and the tiger smiled, giving a nod of approval.

Evan walked to the front of the table and turned away, placing a paw on the coyote's neck and angling his head backwards. "Oh, for Christ's sake," the cheetah objected, but everything was in now motion.

The tiger's tail lifted and his pucker bulged outward, stretching around a thick log of scat that pushed its way out into the open air before sliding into Wesley's open muzzle. The coyote gagged and writhed, cock bouncing from the hole in his pants, but things had officially escalated.

"Mother Wesleyana, say it isn't so..." Lugo whispered, watching the great machine of depravity chug before him. The three before him pounded on in twisted, messy coitus, all three of them more than receptive to play their parts. Hormones, adrenaline, and depravity had won out. Evan was publicly defecating into his boss's mouth, who was more than willing to swallow and gulp the long rope of scat that slithered its slimy way out of the tiger. It pinched off once, then twice, and Kioga watched the coyote's throat pulse in wonder.

The cheetah's daze thrust him into a mad rhythm. He quickened his pace, thrusting in and out of the coyote, his hips colliding with the coyote's pert rump with sticky slaps, his legs beginning to buckle, but he kept chugging along until finally, Evanstrom ran out of shit, punctuating it with a loud fart that freckled Wesley's face. The coyote coughed, showing off mucky brown fangs and a tongue covered in filth, then quickly grabbed his cock and pawed off until he suddenly tightened around Kioga's cock, sending them both into orgasm and streaking his own shirt with long, sticky ropes of coyote cum.

Kioga lost his load inside of Wesley, gulping with surprise as his own pucker clenched and his balls dumped warm, gooey seed deep into the coyote's dirty hind. The three stood there, stood still, panting heavily. The putrid moment seemed to hang in the thick, humid air, and the distant sounds of office activity slowly filtered into their ears once again. If anyone had heard anything, no one had said a word. So there they were, two of them covered in a healthy amount of grime, one of them inside and out. One of them was musky with dried piss, the other just had to wipe his cheeks a couple times. And wash his paw.

The first to speak was Lugo. He'd found his phone and was spinning his pacifier in his free paw.

"Yeah? Yeah. Mmhmm. Code White ... no, not pink_._White. And yellow ... No; it's no accident anymore. Not after the first quart ... Look, just bring gloves, a mask, and a really big bucket ... We'll compensate you. Give us twenty minutes. How's five hundred sound? ... Six?" the wolf cringed and looked briefly at the three. Evan was leaning against the wall, curiously sniffing his dirty paw. Kioga and Wesley were slowly peeling themselves apart. Once up and standing, the coyote's stomach vehemently and he ran to the slop bucket, losing his second lunch. "Yeah, yeah, that's fair. We're good for it. All of us."

Lugo covered his phone and looked over at Kioga, who had opened a new diaper but then looked down at the sticky ass-prints around his groin. In his funny mind, he saw putting a few more coats of "clay" over it and letting it harden into a fecal pottery loincloth. He shook his head and tossed the store-bought aside, unconsciously taking inventory of the unused diapers Wesley had earlier dumped out of his laptop bag, then cocked his head inquiringly at Lugo.

"Kiog-- ... you, you unnamed person ... you'll be taking the desk next to mine since they gotta shut this room down," he said, "I assume you've saved your work on the company drive? Might be a couple weeks, if ever."

The cheetah paused to think, then nodded quickly. Working next to Lugo would be so exciting, considering the last several hours.

"Yes! Most of it. Everything else is in those cabinets that we somehow missed."

"Good," the wolf said. He then snapped his fingers at Wesley, who was still bent over the slop bucket and was wiping his mouth with the padding of the unused European Ultra that Evan had set aside. Lugo gave flashed a silent "OK?" to him on his paw and Wesley nodded in response before lurching back into the bucket.

"What about us?" Lugo asked the phone, idly suckling on his pacifier during the pauses. "We're probably going to want that chemical shower you have in utility, floor two ... the one right by the stairs, yeah."

"We don't have any clothes," Kioga interjected. He glared at the coyote, who'd been the cause of both instances of scatological trauma to both sets of his office khakis, and Wesley in response managed to give him a silent shrug: what can we do about it now? He seemed to ask. The cheetah watched him as he shakily wiped his face with the thick diaper.

"Well, I do," Evan said, pointing at the neatly-folded pile on the desk, "but that still leaves you three. You each ruined a set of slacks?"

"Actually, I was wrong. Neither of them did, actually," Kioga said, "Just mine and my backup; Lugo's actually got all his clothes. And though Wesley's shirt was used as a canvas for his Hershey-squirts, he's still got his pants. So I'm the only one shit out of luck. I'm naked except for my briefs, which aren't so publically acceptable," he said, indicating the few folded disposables laying about.

"Don't say 'shit'," Wesley groaned, standing up. He looked like he'd been mud wrestling, but everyone knew better.

"Look, I'll call you back. So six-hundred, cash, and this is the last we hear of it? All right. Pay you tomorrow," Lugo said, then tossed the phone behind him. He sat back down on a table and curled his legs under him. Naked, with his shoulders squared and his tail laying alongside his muscular leg, the big wolf looked like a statue. "Dude, Wes, Ev; this blows away anything, everything we did in college." He looked around the room and laughed. "We're a couple dead prostitutes short of a Vegas catastrophe."

"Who needs the prostitutes?" Wesley suddenly smirked, rubbing his sore ass with one paw and standing up. The coyote seemed better, like he was recovering. "We all got ours," he said with a wink.

"Shit," Kioga said, his face wrestling a bizarre smirk. Something was boiling in his mind. Wesley glared at him. "You guys keep talking about these big frat parties and--"

"Fraternity" the three brothers suddenly corrected him. Kioga was thrown back.

"Sorry.Fraternity parties, and maybe you hazed each other or whatever; who knows. You all know things get crazy."

"Yes, and...?" the three said in unison.

The cheetah, fast as his breeding would imply, darted to his desk in a fit of inspiration and rummaged through the drawers. "And whatever happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, and whatever happens in your frat, stays in your frat. Waking up drunk and in weird clothes; that just happens with you people.

"Do you keep any booze at work? Evanstrom? Lugo? Wes?" The cheetah asked, stacking office stamps on the desk.

"I keep a flask when I'm on a group project," the tiger started.

"Perfect!" the cheetah gleamed. He snatched a European Ultra off the floor and stacked office stamps on top of it: stamps such as "FOR DEPOSIT ONLY," "URGENT," and "FINAL NOTICE" were among them. He held this strange, reminiscent pile specifically out to Lugo, as he was the only one without scat on his paws.

"You people have already hazed me. So let's initiate me. I want you to stamp up another prank diaper, make it embarrassing and derogatory like the last one, and then when we get out of the shower, I want you to sprinkle me in booze, diaper me up, and carry me out to a taxi. The perfect fraternal cover-up!"

The three brothers stared at him with varying degrees of shock and puzzlement. The cheetah had gone off the rails, clearly. Wesley, appropriately, wore a shit-eating grin, and Lugo grimaced at him behind his pacifier. Evan, still naked and clean save for a dirty paw, folded his arms and scowled.

A feeling of dread overcame Kioga, and the incontinent cheetah felt his bladder tingle and cringe. He'd been out of diapers for an hour now.

"You really want to be part of the pack?" Evanstrom asked.

Kioga nervously chuckled, backing away and strongly considering a diaper before he pissed on the floor. "Isn't that what this is all about? Your malicious prank, Wesley? Lugo, my puppy? Evan, you taking our aristocrats joke and cranking it to the next level?"

"I just wanted to see you lose your shit on camera, intern," Wesley said, also folding his arms across his chest. His grin became a full smile; his teeth were still brown. "I didn't know you'd literally shit your pants."

"Look, this was real fun and all," Lugo said, popping his pacifier out and pushing it aside with the European Ultra and the office stamps. He smiled at the cheetah. "Really. I had fun, faw-ther. But Evan's got all his clothes and just needs to wash his paw. We can be out of here lickety-shits."

"Don't be gross," Wesley objected.

The wolf made a mocking gesture by flashing his teeth and rubbing them with a finger, then turned to the tiger.

"Evan, go to Wal-Mart and get some sweat pants and shirts for our two butt-lovers, Wes and Kioga. We three 'aristocrats' will shower up while you're gone, then the four of us ..." He turned to the group.

"Y'all feeling Hooters? I could use some vixenistas."

Kioga nervously chuckled, feeling relieved that, despite the rancid, lusty insanity of the last few hours, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. This entire endeavor was fucked up, down, and sideways, and all the office work he put off today was work to be made up during the week, but it seemed they'd get their happy ending after all.

With a sudden, shrill gasp, Kioga remembered his bladder and looked down at his bare, filthy crotch.

Dry, thank God.

And flaking. He peeled a chip off and cringed, holding it aloft.

"Eeew..." he grunted.

"Yeah?" Lugo countered, snickering. "No shit."