The Guy in Charge: Prologue
#1 of The Guy in Charge
As it seems that caveats are une chose _ __ de rigueur_ on this site, be admonished, yo: HERE BE DIAPERS, M/M tomfoolery, and probably some really weird shit. I mean, REALLY weird shit--and each installment is only going to get more and more depraved from here. If this doesn't tickle your pickle, perhaps you should maybe sort of kind of possibly think about considering not reading it. Or something. Every chapter will be tagged accordingly; do be sure to read these before diving in.
A quick run-down of some of the characters (list is sure to grow as the series does):
- Lucas Albermann - a German shepherd; sexy, athletic, and looooves him some diapz; closeted gay; 25 years old
- Karl "Kay" Braff - a stoner hare and Lucas's co-worker and roommate; blazed more often than sober; bisexual; 26 years old
- Casper Ranquist - a blond corgi; newly-appointed supervisor of some as-of-yet unnamed call-center; gay; 20 years old
One more thing [uncle.jpg]! I strongly urge the reader to read this story from beginning to end. The plot development, though admittedly contrived, is dependent on character interaction. If you're really just here to fap, just ctrl + f through it and have at it, I suppose, though you won't get as much enjoyment out of it.
Now, without further ado, I present to you: The Guy in Charge.
"You can expect something in your box tomorrow, Mr. Albermann." The corgi clicked his pen smartly and returned it to its usual place in his shirt-pocket. Despite his short stature, the kid towered, both physically and psychologically, over the seated shepherd. He seemed to derive some degree of pleasure from this fact. "I'm certain you'll be more careful in future." With that, he resumed his patrol of the cubicles, clipboard at the ready.
Lucas reclined into his suspiciously-discolored office chair, rolling a pen anxiously between his teeth. His eyes darted from computer screen to his desk-mate and back again, as if to say: Did that really just happen? This was his second write-up this week. His second!
He waited until the corgi overlord waddled away on his stubby legs--well out of earshot--before letting out a stifled snarl.
"Are you shitting me, dude?" He spoke in a rapid, angry whisper. "How am I supposed to keep our AHT with such a crap script? Does he really _expect us to follow _every goddamn word?"
His cubicle buddy, a hare of seasonally white fur, spun idly in his chair. He wore a plain, green beanie, pulled taut over his head and just above his eyes, so that his heavily-pierced ears rested bundled behind him. "Just gotta follow the script, man... The script is the boss."
"Fuck it." He concluded, dashing the pen against the monitor. "I'm going out for a smoke. You comin', Kay?"
The hare poked his toes together and muttered in typical stoner-tone: "Yeah, man. I'm always down for a 'pote." He lowered his voice even further and drew his cheeks back in sympathy: "Sorry Cas is such a bitch, dude."
Lucas shrugged wordlessly and took up his green parka from the back of his chair, burying his paws into its pockets. "Let's just get out of here, dude. I really need a cancer stick."
Gentle snowfall powdered the smoker's awning behind the office. It was eerily quiet outside, given the time of day. A snowstorm had moved in overnight, and most businesses were closed for the day--except, you know, this one. Perhaps, Lucas thought, he should appreciate that; he wasn't, after all, a salaried employee. Every hour counts.
Under the tacky, pin-striped awning that arched from the doorway, the German shepherd and his cunicular companion smoked in tense, unbroken silence. The porch boasted a dingy, plastic lawn-table with a matching pair of weather-worn chairs at either side. Cigarettes of all brands lied scattered carelessly around an empty ash tray that crowned the center of the table.
"I'm not gonna have a fuckin' job anymore if this punk-ass midget keeps handing me bullshit write-ups, Kay." The wolf took an angry, powerful drag from his cigarette, his shoulders hunched forward against the biting wind. He was positively frozen.
"Yeah, man. Already lost like, what, three people?" The hare held an extinguished cigarette between his lips and flicked the lighter away from the winter breeze. "And he's been here like, what, not even two weeks? Guy needs to chill his tits." Smoke billowed from the corners of his mouth with each word.
"How'd he even get supervisor? He's, like, 12, or something."
"I dunno, man. Prob'ly suckin' some heinous dick."
The German shepherd shook his head in sudden exasperation and looked up at the flimsy awning above. It rippled serenely in the winter wind.
"I'm gonna take this to HR if he doesn't mellow the fuck out, dude."
Kay nodded in passive agreement, drawing from his cigarette again. His hazy eyes squinted up at Lucas, regarding the snowflakes collecting on his muzzle. The hare always admired his muzzle: it was well-formed and handsome, just like the rest of him. From his expensively-groomed headfur to his keen taste in wardrobe, there was nothing to fault the guy for. Of course, the bunnyman never thought to act on this admiration; they were like brothers, after all. And if it wasn't for the difference in their species, they very well could have been brothers.
His eyebrows furrowed with a sudden realization.
"I think he likes you, bro."
"Oh, fuck you." Lucas rolled his eyes and bowed his head at a sudden gust of frigid wind.
"No, really. He's obviously a cocksucker, man--have you _seen _his hair?" With his eyes shut tight, the hare slipped the beanie off of his head and ran a white paw through his headfur with an exaggerated femininity. "Oh, Lucas!" He cried out, in an equally campy voice: "Take me, you big shep'!"
Lucas gave him a playful punch in the arm. "Man, I hate you, dude." He couldn't help but chuckle.
"Damn, Luke--that actually hurt." Kay gripped his arm sheepishly and smirked. "You're so strong."
"You don't get muscles like these bein' a faggot." He bragged, flexing, to little effect, through his parka. "But," his toned dropped with his confidence, "...if he actually, ya know, likes me, or something... why's he being such a prick?"
The hare gazed off into the white expanse outside the shelter of the awning, staring vacantly into the gray distance. "It's the homeostatic nature of the universe, man. Where there's a lotta love, there's gonna be a lotta hate rushing in to balance it out."
"What the actual fuck, Kay?"
"Dude, it's true! All psychologically proven. I read it once somewhere, I think, on, like, Wikipedia, or something... It's normal for people to treat their crushes like shit. It makes them feel more powerful, more in control." His eyes met Lucas's, and he grinned from ear to ear: "Every write-up, every criticism, every shitty look is his way of saying," --he raised his voice to an absurd pitch-- "'Oh, Lukey! I want your sweet, hot canine spooge all up in my cute, little booty-hole!'"
Lucas sighed. It was really hard to take this guy seriously, sometimes. "You really need to stop smoking so much weed. Like, ferreal, dude. Yer fuckin' crazy." He flicked his cigarette in the vague direction of the ash tray and slid his paws back into his pockets, visibly shivering. "Hurry up with that. It's balls-cold out here."
Inside, the two returned to their cubicle to find Casper sitting on Lucas's desk. His clipboard, that hateful symbol of his authority, was pinned between two fingers, which he spun vertically with an almost childish captivation. With both furs now standing before him, bewildered and--in Lucas's case--irritated, Casper caught the clipboard in one paw and rested it against his hip.
"So... Where've you been?" The corgi inquired. His words bit behind a façade of cordiality.
"What are you doing on my desk?"
"I'm pretty sure I just asked you a question, not the other way around."
"We went out for a smoke," Lucas began, jaw clenched, "because our contract says we can."
"Really, now?"
"Yes, really."
"Fascinating." Casper kicked his footpaws playfully; he was enjoying this. "It never fails to amaze me just how much you think you are the boss here, Lucas. The provisions in your contract allow for one 30-minute break, and two 15-minute breaks_--as scheduled by the supervisor_. And it looks like you're not scheduled for a 15-minute break for another, oh, 45 minutes?"
"That's not-- Chet never--"
"I'm not Chet." The corgi smiled. "And yes, the contract you signed at orientation makes abundantly clear that your breaks are at the supervisor's discretion. And, well..." He chuckled haughtily, "That would be me."
Lucas's jaw dropped. What a little bitch.
"But..." The corgi traced a circle coyly at his side, "I imagine two write-ups in one day doesn't look very good for performance review, huh? So, I'm willing to overlook this little infraction_--this time_. In case either of you were unaware, I _am the floor supervisor. _I _make the decisions for this team. _I am your boss. So long as you are employed here, you will play by my rules. Is that understood?"
A primal rage sat itself in Lucas's throat, threatening to bark down that smug little smile off of Casper's face. He could only nod in concession, averting his gaze so as to avoid pissing himself off further. He wasn't even sure if Kay nodded.
"Good, then." The blond corgi adjusted his bright, blue tie and slid off of the desk. "I'm glad we've come to an agreement. I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine." He patted Lucas on the shoulder as he passed, stopping abruptly and turning his head to speak: "Oh--and no hats, Braff." The distant sound of slackery in another cubicle led him away.
The hare turned to Lucas, both paws over his hat. His expression was one of profound, unadulterated anxiety. "Dude. This hat is a memento of New Year's 2012, man! The year we all survived! I had two bitches on my dick and a dude on my face, dude! I can't take this shit off!"
Lucas snickered, pushing a paw into Kay's face. "If you made it through 2012, I think you'll make it without your hat."
The rest of Lucas's day was a blur. It was unusual for him to dwell on the frustrations of day-to-day life, but Casper was an exceptional piece of work. His words stuck in Lucas's mind like a bad song: unremitting, obnoxious, and... strangely catchy. The guy was annoying, to be sure, but he couldn't help but ruminate on Kay's suspicions, however unlikely they may have been. What if he did like Lucas? The entire notion was confounded by his irrepressible hatred for the guy, but...
In that moment, he would have admitted to himself--and nobody else--that Casper would make for a pretty great fuck. If only, you know, to show the little fucker who the real alpha male is. He imagined mounting the little bitch over his own desk, his blue tie bouncing wildly as he rammed his alpha dick deep into his prissy little asshole. Pens, paperweights, and stacks of paperwork would crash to the floor to make room for their amorous adventures, and the corgi would moan submissively, affirming Lucas's role as dominant, with each forceful thrust. A bulge began to form in the shepherd's jeans as the scene unfolded in his mind.
The passenger-side door opened abruptly and slammed shut. Kay turned, hazy as ever, to his co-worker and roommate: "Duuude... Wanna smoke some ganja at the crib?"
Lucas was torn from his reverie. "Uh...!" His face flushed a deep red under his rich, brown fur. "N-not really, dude. Today was such a shit day."
"That's exactly why you smoke, man!"
"I'm not really up for it... I don't even think I'm gonna hit the gym tonight. Maybe tomorrow." He gripped the steering wheel anxiously. "I'm probably just gonna call it a night when we get to the apartment, ya know? "
"Psh. Pussy."
At home in his room, Lucas flicked the lights off and lifted the black polo from his chiseled torso, resting it around his neck like he would a gym towel. He plopped down in his chair and punched the power button on the computer tower. It rewarded him with a bright, blue light, humming and whirring as the internal fans came to life. All this frustration needed a release valve.
The monitor sped through a series of opening applications and Windows pages before coming to the login screen. He clicked the only available icon by the name of "Lukey Dukey", a thumbnail of a (thickly) padded rump hoisted high in the air, and revealed a blank bar underneath. With a rapidity befitting his profession as an IT tech, he clacked out the word "diadees" and pressed enter, sending himself to the desktop. He murred lustfully at the background: a pair of young, well-built leopards lapping at their wolf master's cock, which sprayed them with his pungent scent. The kittens were, of course, heavily diapered--and long overdue for a change.
This was Lucas's greatest diversion, his escape from the mundanity of life.
Mechanically, the German shepherd opened a browser window with one paw, the other decidedly preoccupied with his belt. In the address bar, he entered a url, Diapersquirt.com, and arranged the submissions by date of upload.
His ears flattened in disappointment; no new content.
He entered another address, Furtube.com, his right paw now at work on the button and zipper of his jeans. The search criterion was simply "diapers," arranged also by date of upload. Again, no new content.
With the clink of a buckle, his jeans fell to his ankles. A desperate groan sounded in his throat as he entered yet another site: Yiffyaff.com. To his dismay, it also yielded no results.
His canine member, flaccid now from extended anticipation, flopped lifelessly out of the folds of his gray boxer-briefs. He racked his brain for another site that featured diaperfurs, rare as they were. It was then that his fingers, as if through some divine inspiration, spilled out their muscle memory onto the keyboard: Livefurs.com.
It occurred to him that he had nearly forgotten about this site. He didn't frequent it often, but, given that he had subscribed some months ago for a chat with a cute, diapered doberman, he figured that he should, at the very least, give it a shot. In the search, he entered "diapers," categorized by the parameters "gay" and "male." There was only one live session.
The shepherd's cock throbbed excitedly, hoping beyond all hope that tonight would be its night. The lad's name was "friendlygh0st"; strange, he thought, but cute. The video chat description read: y __oung, hot diaperpup open to any and all _ suggestions_. His curiosity was most certainly piqued.
And under species, the young performer was listed as corgi.
A familiar anger rose up in Lucas's chest. "I hope that bitch gets fucked until he cries." He commented to himself, spamming the chat link with clicks.
At the first, the image was unclear and terribly pixelated. After some buffering, a thin, toned corgi swam into view. He was sitting cross-legged on a plastic-covered bed, rolling what appeared to be a condom over a purple assplug. He occasionally crinkled into some hidden microphone, his diapered bottom sliding against the waterproof sheets on the mattress. A cascade of comments streamed down the chat-box to the right of the video feed, ranging anywhere from "fuck yourself dirty" to "what a cute puppy!" The German shepherd couldn't help himself; he typed out, with no shortage of rancor: "make it hurt, kiddo."
Lucas leaned back into his chair, legs spread wide open and his paw pulling the length of his cock. He bit his bottom lip and shivered, overcome with hormones.
The corgi stopped for the briefest of moments, appearing to have turned his attention to an off-screen computer display. Lucas couldn't be sure; his face, from the neck up, was hidden from view.
"Show us those pampers, diaper-fag!" A viewer heckled in the chat-stream.
Obediently, the pup brought himself up from his sitting position and came to rest on his knees, revealing that he was, indeed, swaddled in the cutest adult-puppy diapers money could buy. Lucas noted that his tape-work was incredibly meticulous--flawless, even. The tapes ran perfectly horizontal, holding up a plump, sagging body of piss between them.
What a pee-tail... Lucas thought to himself. He leaned forward, typing out the words "give those potty-pants a little squeeze for daddy."
As if on queue, the corgi ran a golden paw down his flat stomach and down under the round of his diaper, pushing the mass up against his puppy bits with a pronounced squish. He whined pathetically, his tail flagging behind him. The chat-stream went crazy with suggestions and encouraging cat-calls.
Lucas's dick grew rapidly as he observed the blond-furred hottie turn around and raise his padded bottom in the air. A paw groped its way between the little corgi's legs and up the back of his crinkle-pants, pulling down slowly, intensely at the swollen bulk, eliciting an audible squeak into the microphone. The plastic of his diaperbutt had a certain sheen about it, indicating to the German shepherd that this little slut piddled his pants nice and full.
The corgi reached behind himself, fumbling about for the toy he abandoned to show his viewers how much of a baby he was. With the assplug successfully retrieved, the pup began to massage his bottom in circles with his fingers, closing in on the center with one of his claws.
Lucas was panting now, his paw pumping up and down his throbbing length.
With a deep, lustful groan, the kid poked a hole in the swollen fabric that covered his sweet little ass, and his paws disappeared from view. The sound of a cap popping and the schlick of lotion dominated this interval. His paws reappeared shortly after, toy at the ready.
The shepherd squeezed his red dog-cock, savoring every horny moment that this expert of diaper sex could provide.
To the accompaniment of wild chat-pings, the corgi aligned his "toy" with his cute, little pucker and, gently and deliberately, began to slide it in with a single paw. With the other, he squeezed the warm sack of his sagging pants until thin, golden rivulets of piss--almost unseen through the camera--trickled down his tiny legs.
Lucas covered the slit of his animal piece with a finger and rubbed the precum down its length, staving off his climax, to the greatest extent of his fortitude, until the boy came first. The German shepherd, ever the cavalier, saw it only right that a bitch have his fun before he did.
With a final, embarrassing ass-queef, the boy brought the plug home, deep inside his hole. He loosed a muffled moan into what Lucas could only assume was a pillow as he drew out the toy and pushed it back in, his toes curling in palpable pleasure. With each inward push, the boy fucked himself harder and faster and his tail hiked higher and higher, his pathetic whining in tempo with each hit of his sweet spot.
The shepherd could only gape at the scene on his monitor. What a fucking gorgeous piece of diapered ass!
As the pounding intensified, the pup's diaper threatened to split open and spill its pissy, gelatinous contents. Lucas couldn't contain himself any further; he took his dick in paw and pumped relentlessly as the corgi humped against the bed and back into his puppy-toy.
The diaper-boy cried out in ecstasy, sending the shepherd over the edge. Lucas howled in orgasmic pleasure as ropes of dog-cum arced into him, painting his chestfur and muzzle with sticky warmth. His body was seized by a fiery euphoria.
As the thrill of the orgasm waned, Lucas noted that the corgi was at rest on the bed, presumably having stickied himself as well. He grinned, leaning forward (with his clean paw) to praise the li'l guy. "What a good boy!" He wrote, silently wishing he could give the kid a smart pat on the bottom for a job well done.
On his stomach, the pup turned, his face more level with the camera, to read his congratulations. He was grinning from ear to ear, his tongue lolling adorably out of the side of his mouth.
His face was unmistakable.
"What in the holy HELL, dude?!" Lucas grabbed his headfur in his paws, a glob of cum rolling down his cheek. "MAN--what the fuck?!"
_ ...the crinkling continues! _