Horatio Husky

Chapter Twenty-Nine Email “You’ve got a week to get your act together.” Those were the only words in the message on DaringTare.com that Hunter had received from the honey badger. Other than the email following their meeting, this had been the only correspondence he had received whatsoever after their initial meeting. The daunting sentence hung over Hunter like a raincloud of doom, keeping him on edge throughout his day of classes wearing his cygnet diapers. The antics of the accompanying ibises did little to assuage him, given the fact that they appeared somewhat bored and out of place as they continuously rummaged through every trash bin that Hunter passed, causing many confused and startled looks when their weight inevitably knocked them over, spilling garbage and crumpled paper over the floor. He even had to take the blame for it when he had visited the library to pick up a textbook, which was rewarded by a thin-lipped look of disapproval from the elderly giraffe managing the front desk that day. Hunter had told Malissa and Jack almost immediately after he had read the message that he had received correspondence. After the initial moment of excitement that they might be a step closer to figuring out how to stem the effects of the magic, Hunter had sent them a screenshot of the message along with an ellipsis for a caption. The otter was concerned immediately, telling him that he should probably stay home and get notes from others for his safety. Jack had a different approach to it, telling Hunter that he would fight the badger with his own paws if need be. Malissa quickly shot him down telling him that he was just trying to prove his manhood, which resulted in Jack becoming defensive. Hunter cut through their squabbling by informing them that he would go about as normal as he could, trying to put on a brave face as he said that the brooch pushed him around more than enough anyway, and that he was not going to let this get to him. The two had agreed that he was probably right, but Hunter did not feel as confident as he had let on in their group chat. Although grateful for their support, the fennec fox wanted to try his best to remain as independent and strong in this situation as possible. He suspected that Malissa knew that he was just putting on a brave face, but nevertheless this was important to him. On the inside, however, he was very nervous. Classes were difficult to pay attention to, and this manifested itself in a less than satisfactory performance on an Organic Chemistry quiz. He figured he passed, but only barely. Now, he was sitting idly at his desk in his apartment, on a call with Jack who was currently streaming his MOBA game and getting particularly animated about the prowess of the game, filling the silence as Hunter worked on an assignment. “Come on! Push! Why aren’t you pushing!?” The weasel warbled into Hunter’s headphones, causing the fennec’s right lip to twist upwards slightly as he typed away at his keyboard. Said the ancient Egyptian artifact to the backside of my diaper… Hunter thought to himself with grim amusement, deciding that he should not voice what he was thinking to the mammal on the other end of the call or he would not hear the end of derivative jokes made of that for the rest of the evening. Currently, he was absolutely soaked, the front of his padding having swollen from the day’s dribbles and deposits which for the moment was serving as a comfortable cushion for both the front and back of his diaper. As always, he would wait for a longer while before changing into fresh padding, given the risk factor of an unknown hieroglyph decorating his front. Unable to focus, he opened up his Aunt’s website to see if there were any further messages. There was. “Tomorrow at 4 P.M., you’re skipping class, bring the artifact.” Hunter swallowed hard. While he did not have class at that time, the fact that the badger was being so demanding felt incredibly unsettling. He realized that he felt downright threatened by the badger, after the confusing exchange they had had he now had the distinct feeling that he was no longer on the same side as Hunter. He figured the search for his aunt had remained a fruitless endeavor, and now his frustrations had led him back to the poor fennec. Hunter allowed the sense of panic wash over him for a minute, letting the emotion flow and rise before it managed to abate. “You there dude?” Jack asked, sounding half-distracted himself as Hunter saw on his stream that his team had, in fact, finally started to push objectives with their momentum. He responded half distracted, replying in an airy tone. “Yeah just… This bit needs some attention.” He felt bad lying, but something inside of him was giving him resolve. He had an idea, a risky idea. The gamble he was considering taking was one that might just give him enough of a chaotic edge in meeting with the honey badger. Could work… He mused to himself, as he returned his attention to Jack and the conclusion of his match. While he did feel a little bad excluding his friends from what he was going to do, he felt like they were already doing so much to support him. Even Jack, despite the period of endless jokes, was taking this in stride and staying confidently by his side. This part he would have to do by himself, however, despite the continuous development of being under the spell of infantilizing magic, this one was his. 𓁥 𓁢 𓐭 While Hunter was studying, the honey badger was not having as studious an evening. Nursing a drink at the “Swine’s Cradle,” the badger was finding it rather difficult to lure any information from the jackal. Shiva was polishing a beer mug with a rag that looked like it had seen better days, a fact that was often commented on by the day drinkers of the tavern. Despite being located in a city, the institution retained a rustic aesthetic that contrasted starkly with the pristine condition behind the bar front. Shiva ran a tight ship, and was beginning to grow increasingly irritated at the probing questions brought up by the honey badger. “They’re university students that are working on Archaeology projects, I told the runt some rumors which you’re not getting. Whatever you want with them you’re not going to start shit here about it unless you want a few less teeth in your gob” The jackal spat at him, motioning with an arched eyebrow towards the two burly security employees standing at the front of the bar. The honey badger took a breath, attempting to salvage the rising tension of the conversation as he continued his reasoning. “I’m not interested in the students, just the project. I’ve got some good information that they might be in possession of a rather dangerous item and I just want to make sure none of them get hurt.” The jackal stared into his eyes, searching them for the slightest hint of a lie. She sniffed, leaning back against the counter and crossing her eyes before replying. “You’re not lying, but you’re clearly hiding shit. I think you should leave.” The honey badger raised his paws defensively, shaking his head and attempting a consoling smile that had zero effect on the jackal. “Look, I just don’t want anyone to get hu-” “Mark! Please escort this customer out.” The jackal stated in a loud, flat tone, causing the attention of a polar bear near the front door to shift over to them. The bear let out a snort of impatience, grumbling to himself he moved slowly and heavily towards the honey badger. “Fine, fine fine fine. I’m leaving.” The badger took out his wallet, placing out some cash onto the bar before slapping it down. “I’m going.” The polar bear stared at him, ruddy eyes that looked as if they had been bleached red. He was expressionless, watching through a heavy, droopy muzzle as he stared unblinking at the moving form of the honey badger. The badger gave him a grin, raising his paws up in mock surrender as he headed to the front door. As he opened the door, the badger left with a single comment as he entered the softly falling snow outside of the tavern. “You’ll wish you’d helped me when things start to get real, all I’m saying.” The polar bear shut the door behind him firmly, emitting a grumble of disgust as he resumed his position. The jackal’s head remained down, her eyes distant and ruminating as she continued to polish her glass. Shiva did not like the honey badger one bit, something about the smell of him told her his intentions were not necessarily benign. Deciding that dwelling upon if’s would not warrant any good, she made a mental note to herself to give Jack a warning next time he stopped by. Whatever was happening, she was not going to let trouble walk its way through her front door and not make it known that she’s not one to tolerate it.

It's great to be back! I appreciate the readership that this story has acquired. 😊 Not quite! The brooch's effects are pretty powerful, and Hunter is succumbing to it on levels that aren't even magical. No, he simply was too tuckered out to really do anything else than have a schnooze.

Yes he is! Honestly, those are all pretty good ideas. I like 'em! You might just see one or two appearing in a future chapter.~

Author's Note: After a little bit of a hiatus, we return! And getting mighty close to the end of Book 1 too. Enjoy!~ Chapter Twenty-Eight House Arrest Hunter knew it was only a matter of time before the ghost paws would change him into a cygnet hieroglyph diaper on a school day. After the bar incident, he had tried his best to experiment with the logic of the enchanted changing table. If he placed a diaper on its surface before sitting his soggy, or worse, bottom on the changing table’s surface, he would take note whether the ghost paws put him in his choice of padding or chose a different pattern. Given the fact that he was now wearing 24/7, as the risk of peeing his pants during the day had become too hazardous, he found himself utilizing the ghost paws at least three times a day. When he had tried simply changing himself right after experimenting with the changing table the first time, there had been another hitch. No matter how hard he tried to slip a claw underneath the adhesive tapes, his diaper would refuse to budge. While he could adjust the wings of the diaper, move it about for his own comfort, and even reach inside if he needed to take care of an itch, he could not remove it. Scissors did little, as it felt like he was trying to cut through steel wool. He could have his diaper changed at any time, even if he had not used it at all he found during one of his experiments. He would then be changed into another one, meaning that there was no window of time when he did not have padding on his bottom except when he was being wiped down or powdered up for his next choice of puppy underpants. He was now showering while diapered as well, which always ended in him walking out of the shower with his padding full to the brim in water and soap. While slightly annoying, the paws were diligent enough so that he did not have to clean himself in his private area anymore. After several days of not having washed himself down there, he realized that the concept made him feel a different kind of helpless. A facet of his adult autonomy had been taken from him, much like his ability to use the toilet, that caused his stomach to flip and turn in a mixture of excited pleasure and discomfort. No longer was he responsible for washing the most intimate part of his body, not to mention the fact that there was the issue of relieving his libido. Ever since he got back to his apartment after winter break, if he wanted to pleasure himself he had no choice other than to reach a paw inside of his diaper and do what he had to. While he had developed a neural link between his erotic center and diapers at that point, it still was yet another development where the trinket subjected him to its will. After having kept track of two weeks worth of ghost paw changes, he arrived at the conclusion that the paws took his request seriously around two thirds of the time. The other thirty-three percent of the time he would receive a seemingly random diaper, sometimes a hieroglyphic one and at other times his favorite brand of puppy pampers. He had also worn a new brand during the nighttime, which was patterned in sleepy bears wearing night caps resting on crescent moons, blue clouds, and twinkling stars. To his embarrassed delight, he found that the stars glowed in the dark after switching off his bedroom lights. The diapers themselves appeared to have a slightly different composition than his daytime wearing, as these had increased absorbency and girth in the front. They also felt thicker in the back as well, hugging his bottom more closely and spreading his thighs apart noticeably each night as he waddled over to his crib. He had grown quite fond of these, as not having to worry that he might leak helped him sleep a little more soundly. He knew that this was yet another trick of the brooch, but he still appreciated the sense of security. It did not match the security of the crib, however, as his bed had been completely replaced by an obnoxiously infantilized piece of furniture. Lined with soft, lush bedding that rose a foot tall against the bars of the crib, he would curl up in a properly padded space containing several of his stuffed animals, pillows, and a weighted blanket that he would have sworn the ghost paws had once covered him in during the night when he kicked it off. That might have been a dream, but he was not entirely sure. The crib did not lock, for which he was grateful. If he needed a drink of water, or simply could not sleep and felt like watching something on the TV in the living room, he could leave as he pleased. He could have tried to disassemble it, leaving behind only the mattress and the bottom of the bed frame, but he did not think it was worth the effort. The infantilizing magic would likely find a way to replace it, or somehow come up with something worse. For now, he was cooperating habitually, despite still intent on figuring out how to counteract the spell. He was sleeping better, however, waking up with the now familiar sensation of a swollen, damp front and occasionally feeling a squishy sensation against his bottom. The powder used by the ghost paws almost completely nullified the earthy scent coming from his hind quarters, and the ghost paws saved him a fair amount of pain and effort by taking care of whatever he let slip into his padding for him. The babying had become somewhat more managed with their assistance, and Hunter was taking what he would get out of the situation. When on a Thursday morning he was placed into the cygnet diaper, he had to act quickly. After the ghost paws had lovingly patted him on the bottom to send him on his way, he hopped right back up on the changing table once more with the intention of having his dry, unused diaper changed once more. The ghost paw did not appear. Hunter felt a familiar feeling of doom gnawing a pit in his stomach as he slid off of the changing table. He left the room, grabbing a bite of breakfast before returning back to resume his position on the edge of the changing table. The paws remained wherever they were when they were not changing table, the glyphs on the changing table remaining ominously silent and inactive as his paws were not summoned. He understood what was happening, but simply did not want to give the trinket the satisfaction of giving up so soon. He scrunched his face slightly, sucking in his stomach and applying a slight pressure against his bladder. Soon enough, he felt a small accident piddle out of him, causing a slight swelling on the front of the diaper. He hopped up again, yet still no paws. He could practically imagine what the trinket might be saying in that moment if it had a voice. “Come on now, little guy! That diaper can hold so much more before it needs changing.” Taking his phone out of his pocket, he bit his lip as he considered the options he had. Malissa was in one of his classes today, 20th Century Literature, while Jack was in Organic Chemistry. He was lucky that both of his classes that day were also attended to by his friends, so at least he had that. The fennec could simply have them take notes for him, or better yet, host a call on their laptops so he could listen in himself and take notes at home then compare his to theirs. He could salvage this, on days where he was stuck with a baby swan on the front of his diaper, his friends could fill him in on that day’s classes without it impacting his grades. After sending the texts and receiving confirmations, with Jack calling him a giant baby which made him wonder whether that was simply his humor or the effects of the hieroglyph, Hunter looked around his nursery as he realized that he would be spending the day indoors, or at least until he had used his diaper enough that it warranted a change. Maybe I’ll be able to attend my afternoon class in time… He thought to himself hopefully, taking a moment to send Malissa his thanks. Disconnecting his laptop from the charger, he headed over to his living room after grabbing a mug of ice coffee, settling in for a morning of assignments and study to make the most of a day of remote learning. 𓁥 𓁢 𓐭 Hunter was tapping a mechanical pencil against the side of his head, listening to his organic chemistry professor through the speakers of his laptop. Jack had set his phone on the table next to his laptop, judging from the occasional key taps coming through the call. It was not the best set up, but at least he was getting the lesson plan for the day. His bottom was resting on a rather full diaper, the paws failing to appear even after he had had an unexpected mess deposit itself after an impromptu tail raise. The brooch was intent on doing its best to embarrass him that day, but as long as he did not leave the apartment he figured that he could delay it at least for that day. From his phone speakers, the tigress’s voice warbled out as she concluded the lesson for today. “Next week we’ll be starting on alcohols, please be sure to grab front row seats for our first time covering the beloved collegiate tradition of ethanol.” Garbled laughter came from the speaker, as Jack hung up the call. Hunter shook his head, grinning to himself as he closed his notebook. Done for the day, and feeling tired after over eight consecutive hours of schoolwork, he decided to take a break. Scooting down off of his couch, he reached over and grabbed one of the stuffed animals, a red panda, from the floor before reaching for the remote on the coffee table. He would indulge the brooch for the time being, switching on his television and scrolling down to one of his puppy shows. Happy to relieve his mind of carbon skeletons, he leaned his head back against the base of his couch as he allowed his mind to wander. The brooch was meeting him at an interesting halfway point. By supplying him with diapers, he no longer had to spend money on what had become a medical necessity. That, and the appearance of stuffed animals, blankets, and pillows in his apartment wherever he lounged was also a novelty of its own. They would remain too, non-ethereal appearances that stayed in his apartment and made it feel very comfortable. While infantile, he did appreciate having something to hug and blankets to snuggle in, even if they did have pictures of suspiciously adult-sized furs wearing diapers, pacifiers, and onesies on them. He wondered if he could somehow figure out how to make the brooch give him other things, things that were not related to ensuring that he was living as close a lifestyle as it could muster to that of a little kit. That might be useful, and oddly powerful utility that he never imagined was even possible. Magic… He thought simply to himself, his gaze wandering up to the box on the mantelpiece that housed the piece of jewelry. The trouble was, there was no way to communicate with it or control it. Things just happened. His ability to communicate to the ghost paws which diaper he wanted to wear for the day was unreliable, but so far the first instance of his ability to exert even the smallest modicum of control over how he was being treated. He knew that the brooch’s influence would likely grow even more profound, as it had just about taken over his entire bedroom and bled into his living room. In the corner, a giant teddy bear slouched down, soft and malleable. If he wanted to, he could easily rest on top of it and nap, so large was its presence. For now it was just a display piece he was unsure of how to get rid of, or whether he even wanted to get rid of it. Hunter decided that he would sit on the idea of how to turn the brooch’s magic towards his advantage for the time being. For now, he felt like he had struck a balance, even if he did have that embarrassment at the bar the previous weekend. He figured that such incidents were to be expected. He knew the brooch was also concerned about keeping him safe, even if that meant embarrassing him publicly. He was not in any real danger from its magic, if he did not count his reputation. The possibility of future hieroglyph diapers was also something that was on his mind. For now, his stock of padding was around halfway through, and he figured that once he was out of diapers he would wake up the next day like Christmas morning to see that his shelves had been magically restocked. He would deal with that then, for now he needed to ration his favorable kinds of diapers to ensure minimal disruption to his academic schedule. Organic chemistry was proving as challenging as he had been told by older students when he had inquired, but it was nothing that was conceptually out of range for him. It was a lot of grueling work, but it was more of a time investment than it was necessarily difficult to understand. Memorization, repetition, and regular attendance were his friends. The conversation that the colorful characters on the screen were having faded into the background as he dwelled on that day’s lesson plan. He would probably cut his TV break short in a few minutes, even if his eyes were feeling heavy. Staring blankly at the television screen, he hardly noticed the front of his diaper swelling even more as he piddled onto himself. Just a short rest of his eyes, he had been staring at his computer monitor all morning after all. Just a little bit, it couldn’t hurt… He thought to himself, as he leaned slightly to the side, his body slackening, descending gently into a soft, afternoon catnap. Sitting in nothing except a t-shirt and thoroughly used diaper, Hunter looked every bit the part of a toddler who had fallen asleep while watching cartoons in the living room as he fell sound asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven Bar ‘Crawl’ Hunter was not feeling too bad as he took a sip from his fourth Long Island of the evening, watching from his perch atop the tall-legged bar stool as Jack and Malissa belted out the lyrics to “Take On Me”. The three had been on their university bar crawl for only about an hour, but given their relief at getting through the first week of college their path to becoming shit-faced had been a steep and brief one. The otter’s cheeks were flushed red, the glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she took heavy breathes in preparation for the refrain. Jack appeared similarly enamored, his lips clumsy and heavy looking as he slurred his way through the song. They were making fools of themselves without a care in the world, as having gotten through a week of prophetic academia to come the three had agreed upon making this weekend the official ending of their winter break. The three mammals were properly sloshed, with Hunter having ensured that his night would be uninterrupted by deliberately placing a booster pad on the surface of his changing table before the three had convened at the bottom stares of his apartment building. Jack, not one to miss out on comedic opportunity, had commented in a sickly sweet tone whether the fox was ‘weady’ when he had descended down the stairs with a slight waddle. Malissa and Hunter had exchanged brief, stoic nods, before each picking a shoulder to punch the weasel on. Even now, on stage, the weasel would occasionally reach up and unconsciously rub at his bicep as he leaned into the microphone, the air escaping out of his nostrils eliciting a static response from the speakers behind them. Hunter allowed himself a small smile, relaxing for the first time in a while as he felt the front of his padding blossom with a familiar warmth. He did not care, as he had managed to coax the ghostly paws into his regular pair of cartoon baby animal diapers. The fennec tried not to dwell on the fact that he now had a diaper brand that he could call his ‘usual’, as he raised a fist upwards towards his friends, yelling out encouragement as they reached the pinnacle of the verse. “Twoooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!” The two sang out, exchanging giddy grins as they leaned one one another, holding desperately onto the mic as they belted out the lyric. Hunter laughed at the spectacle, visibly drunk and oblivious to the fact that they were both very much out of tune. Combined together, however, it sounded almost like they had managed to hit the pitch just right with one going a little too flat and the other a bit too sharp. Hunter hardly registered the fact that his stomach was rumbling, the bar food and drinks making their way quickly through his system. It was only towards the end of the song did he note that his tail had been flagging for quite some time. He shifted, his breath catching as he realized what had happened while he had been distracted. His voice muffled by the hubbub around him, he groaned in annoyance as he realized he was now sitting in a not-so-clean diaper. This might be the reason why it's called early… A voice inside of Hunter’s head told him his reluctance to be the reason that he and his friends had to take a breath from the fun weighing heavily on him. He knew that he should excuse himself and take care of his messy bottom before too long, lest he risk a rash that would undoubtedly bother him when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he could feel the brooch’s sway, lulling him back towards his apartment where the closest clean diaper awaited for him, resting neatly on a shelf just for him. The fennec resisted, upset that his fun was being cut short by the cursed trinket’s influence once more. He would be fine, another few hours in his thick sweatpants and coat would be more than enough to conceal his accident. Almost as soon as his resolve solidified and he had risen out of his mucky seat to order another drink, he felt a distinct presence behind him. The fennec fox glanced over his shoulder, suddenly feeling very small as he peered into the long face of a female mammoth. One of the oldest anthropomorphized cenozoic species, it was not too uncommon to see one or two of them on a day out to the city. Still, Hunter realized that he must have been pretty drunk not to have picked up on her presence earlier. Something was off about her eyes, they appeared glassy and distant. A dreamy expression was plastered across her noble physique, her trunk almost floating through the air as it wrapped itself around his waist. Hunter’s eyes grew wide in a panic, as he felt the tip of her flexible appendage probing and patting the contained accident in the seat of his pants. Hunter barely noticed that the other bar attendees were completely oblivious to what was happening as the fennec received an unrequested diaper check. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable.” The large mammal’s voice was smooth and unaffected by the apparent stupor her subconscious was in, as Hunter felt himself being lifted up by the powerful trunk around his waist and laid gently down on an empty bar table. The fennec’s limbs flailed, the incredible weight and power of the drunk keeping him subdued as the mammoth moved her free hooves to rifle inside of her purse. This had quickly grabbed the attention of the bar lady, as well as the other college students attending that evening. Malissa and Jack craned their necks to catch a glimpse of Hunter’s panicked expression as he desperately tried to push the mammoth’s trunk off of him. “Hey! What’s the big idea!?” The bar lady barked out, the rottweiler baring her teeth and crossing her tattoo covered arms, inky splotches on thin fur conveying to anyone who saw them that she meant business. The mammoth acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, her trunk lazily trailing down the fennec’s torso until it caught on the lip of his sweatpants, pulling them down to reveal the saggy contents of his packed and padded back seat. Even in the abruptness of the situation, Hunter knew what was happening. He had pulled too far away from the influence of the brooch and the diapers his changing table had provided him; he had given the trinket the impression that he was not nearly infantilized enough for its own liking. From the mammoth’s purse, she produced a diaper with a single cygnet hieroglyph on its front. It was one of the two symbols remaining whose effects he was still clueless on, and it appeared like he was about to find out. The bartender was now visibly upset that she was being ignored. Her legs swinging over the edge of the bar, she deftly leapt over and marched straight up to the mammoth. Tapping the mammoth on the shoulder, her voice rose in volume over the booming music as the mammoth began to untape the first of Hunter’s top tapes. “And just what do you think you’re doing? You need to get out NOW!” She yelled, emphasizing the end of her statement with a shove. She might as well have been addressing a cement wall, as Hunter doubted that even with the combined strength of everyone present in the room could anyone best her in a physical confrontation. That did not seem to be what she had in mind, however, as Hunter felt himself being wiped down with baby wipes that she had miraculously produced from her purse as well. Several of the others had gathered round now, Malissa and Jack exchanging desperate looks as they both racked their brains as for what to do. Hunter had his paws over his muzzle, hiding his face as he silently endured the public diaper change. At last, he felt his tail being threaded through the tail hole of a new diaper, his equipment and buttocks positioned onto the soft, lush bed of a fresh hieroglyphic diaper. He felt a waft of cold air pass over his equipment as the front was raised, snuggly secured into place by large, surprisingly deft fingers that arranged his tapes in a symmetrical fashion. Peeking through his fingers, the fennec glanced down at the diaper despite the hot flush that was coursing through his cheeks. The image of the cygnet stared back at him as he felt the mammoth’s trunk finally being taken off of him. Before he had a chance to scramble off the table, pull his sweatpants back up, and stumble his way out, the demeanor of the crowd seemed to shift. Hunter looked around him, pushing himself up until he was leaning on his elbows as his eyes glanced from one expression to another. They all wore the same, glassy eyes and dream expression as the mammoth did now. Even the rottie, who looked like she was getting ready to bite a chunk out of the mammoth’s knotted coat, looked pacified for the moment. Malissa still looked somewhat alarmed, though a little more relaxed. Jack, on the other paw, was completely entranced. Out of the crowd, came a high-pitched, cheerful tone. “D’aww, does that feel better sweetie? No more mucky yucky pamps for you!” Another voice came from the crowd, Hunter noticing that it came from a particularly petit chinchilla holding onto a wine glass. “All clean!” The rottie nodded, as the crowd’s unified agenda appeared to ripple through them like a wave in a body of water. “All better now, no more stinky bottoms!” A few of the furs cheered, while others offered their own concerns and requests, their voices meshing together into a scattered cacophony of babying tones. “Does someone want a baba now?” “Hey little guy, where’s your plushie?” “Do you need your binkie, honey?” “Hey little kit, isn’t it way past your bedtime?” “Hop up darling, you get to sit in my lap!” The crowd then moved towards him like a throng of the undead in a horror film, causing Hunter to yelp. Out of the murmuring, sleepy furs came a voice shrill and distinct with authority. “That’s my little one you’re talking to, thank you for taking care of him but he needs to go home now!” Bodies turned and heads swiveled towards Malissa, who had one paw firmly clasped around Jack’s limp wrist as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd with the other. She was grimacing hard, as if she was trying to concentrate on a heavily weighted exam and had not prepared nearly enough for it. The furs moved out of way like molasses, until finally she had reached her friend. The mammoth’s trunk halted her, slamming down on the table between them as her massive, wooly face turned to face off Malissa. Hunter could see the otter’s body stiffen at this confrontation, Jack emitting a small, faint squeal of pain as she squeezed his wrist a little too tightly. She looked up, facing the mammoth with as much bravery as she could muster in her tipsy state, her cleft lips pursed tightly as her whiskers quivered. “Aren’t you forgetting something, dear?” The otter waited, which the mammoth took for an answer. Reaching around, she deposited a pastel colored duffle bag on the table. Hunter had never seen it before, but recognized the characters stitched onto its side as belonging to those that had been on his now dirtied diaper. The brooch was picking up his preferences, that was for sure, but at least he could be relatively sure that these contained no ill enchantments. Relatively sure. “His diaper bag!” The mammoth enunciated slowly, beaming with deliberate and slow amusement. The crowd began to disperse, offering small, melodic goodbyes and good wishes as they returned to their seats. Malissa grabbed the bag, Jack still repeating over and over again in a sing-song tone. “Bye-bye now! Bye-bye now! Bye-bye now!” “Let’s get the hell out of here!” Malissa hissed to the fennec underneath her breath, her words coming through a smile so tight he feared that she might start cracking her teeth. Hunter needed no further encouragement as he scrambled off of the table. Momentarily forgetting that his pants were around his ankles in his haste to get away, he tripped and caught himself on his paws and knees. Crawling backwards a few steps to get himself out from underneath a table, he received a few affectionate pats on his diapered butt from the wine-sipping chinchilla on his way out. Inadvertently blushing as he crouched, stopped to grasp the bottoms of his sweatpants to pull them back up. Hunter tried not to think about the fact that he was pretty sure he had seen her in the back row of his Organic Chemistry class as he followed Malissa out of the bar and into the crisp, January night air. He was suddenly feeling very sober.

When The Hypno Kicks In By Horatio Husky Commissioned by AnnaNapps “Soft… Sqweh… Sqweh… Shee…” The lay rat on the lush mattress, wooden bars rising to form the borders of her simple crib. Coherent thoughts were long gone now, as she had succumbed fully to the hypnosis she had tried so hard to resist. Her mind had become a blank slate, all past memories, thoughts, and talents both learned and naturally gifted had been stripped away. They were gone, forever, leaving behind only the pleasant fog that enveloped her waking mind in a soft, flannel blanket. “Comfy… I wuv comfy… Comfy good… Good for whittle rattos… I’m whittle ratto… Smol…” The simple affirmation of her identity brought comfort to the rat, her limbs tingling and growing warmer as the temperature in the room rose slightly, altered by an unseen spell to ensure that her comfort was kept at the maximum level. Her setting was simple, only a crib and comfortable mattress to keep her company. The room is quiet, still, illuminated only by the last few beams of sunlight on a late afternoon. There was no need for there to be anything else in the room, other than the crib to hold her. Annie could not have escaped the room even if she was able to come up with such an idea. No, there was only the wonderful reality of laying on her back, in a soft bed, and feeling ever so happy to enjoy the delicate euphoria sustained by having a mind filled with nothing. “Baby… Goo’... Goo’ guwl… I’m… I’mma goow… Gurl… Baby guwl…” The thought of knowing that she was a good girl gave her immense pleasure, for she wiggled her bottom and tail in response to the personal affirmation. In her mind, she was a good girl, a good girl solely for the fact that she was laying quietly and obediently in her crib, where she was left to do just that. “Goow girls… Need big… BIG diapers… Goow guwls have… Accidents…” A delicate blush formed on the rat’s cheeks, a slight rosiness saturating the normally white fur with a pleasant pink color. Annie was indeed wearing only a diaper in addition to her pink t-shirt. There was a heart on the landing zone, and the rest of the pink and white padding had been carefully wrapped around her waist to ensure that it was a snug, secure fit. The adhesive had been magically sealed against her, though even now her paws remained too clumsy and uncoordinated to loop even a single paw pad underneath a tape. The cushion underneath her tushie was significant, lifting her up a whole two inches off of the mattress beneath her. Its front was robust, wide, and thickly layered. It rode up to her upper thighs. It was so secured and voluptuous in size that no matter what pose her body might be in as she rolled around, it would be able to catch even the largest of floods without a single drop leaking out. “Big… Poofy… Puh… Puh… Poopy… Goow girls go poopy in poofy…” She mused to herself, idly dragging a limp wrist down to the front of her diaper to give her front a weak squeeze. Annie had become enamored by her diaper ever since her brain had been completely washed. It was her favorite part of her wardrobe, always there, sometimes crinkling to remind her that she was safe, and perpetually ready to hold all the messes that inevitably dribbled out of her when she was not paying attention. And Annie could no longer pay attention. She squeezed her thighs together, held apart by a good foot and a half by the sheer bulk of the diaper. Had she been willing, she would find that she would no longer be able to walk with such an immense bulk. Crawling too would be difficult, but given just how cozy she was feeling laying on her back she had no intention of moving anywhere. No, she would stay put, where everything was easy-going and okay. “Good guwls… Piddle… Diapers hold baby princess ratto piddles… No puddles… Only… Soggy woggy… Princess… Pampers…” Annie let out a little accident, trickling out of her only to be eagerly lapped up and absorbed by her diaper. It barely put a dent in the total amount the undergarment could absorb, for she had many such miniature accidents throughout her hours of languishing about. She did not mind. In fact, Annie quite liked how the diaper felt after she had wet it, the warmth of her pee radiating back into her fur to remind her that it was okay to pee in her diapers. That was what they were for, after all, to keep her safe and comfortable as she lay in her crib. “I’m… Mah… Mommy’s widdle… Puddle princess… Goow girls… Are soggy guwls…” This mantra would often repeat itself inside of her shallow consciousness, eliciting a sense of reward and euphoria that sometimes caused her to pass out from the sheer force of good feelings. Using her diaper was her favorite part of the day, and she could not even control when she had to go in it. It was a happy accident, every accident, and waking up from her pleasure-filled dreams into her waking stupor meant only that she would be awake for yet more accidents for her to relish and gurgle at. “Make stimkies… Annie… Gotta go… Make… Stimkies… Gotta… Do pushies… Good guwls… Do pushies…” Annie could feel it, the tell-tale signs that her tummy needed a little bit more room for more treats that would cause her to drool onto her shirt. Though the rat had no capacity to remember just how many diapers she had gone through that day, this was her fourth. Whenever she felt the slightest inclination to mess herself, she did without hesitation. The lavish feeling of being unable to pick herself up, move about, or even adjust herself inside of the overwhelming thick diapers made it so she would remain laying in her mess. Whenever she pushed, her accident remained firmly underneath her bottom, the earthy scent rising up to meet her nostrils and triggering a conditional embarrassment response. She would feel self-conscious at first, messy and dirty, which would eventually progress into a state of quiet reflection. Lastly, she would grow a little upset, and small cries would turn into sobs until tears would glisten in the corners of her eyes. That was when there was attention brought to her, soothing words and warm paws would lower the bars of the crib to change her well-used diaper. Her bottom would be lifted, wiped down and powdered with a generous helping of powder. Her ‘special spot’ too would be worshiped with warm, wet wipes. She quite liked this part, though she could no longer understand why, it was just a pleasant feeling, and it always came with a final reward. A fresh diaper, snuggly diapered, serving as the finest pillow for her now clean bottom, only to be defiled and distorted a few hours later when she had yet another moment of weakness. “Hurt… Tummy ouchie… Gotta… Gotta… Go… Make pushies…” The rat emitted a grunt, scrunching her face and balling her fists against her chest as she raised her knees upwards. The accident came, her tail swishing to the side to allow for more leverage as several loud sounds of flatulence became muffled in the seat of her princess pampers. Her bottom distorted slightly, bulging outwards and then sagging downwards as she pooped. So came the torrent, a flood gushing into the front of her patiently waiting diaper front as she fully relieved herself. Annie lowered her legs, her weight back down on her now messy diaper as she heaved a sigh of relief. The warmth from her fresh accident comforted her, and she wriggled her thighs and hips inside of her used padding, relishing the sensation of having completely soiled herself. Words became lost, as her thoughts could no longer articulate her feelings. Only sensations remained, the last threads of her adult mind vanishing into the abyss never to be retrieved again. Good feeling… Squishy feeling… Warm feeling… I did good to poop my pants… Good girl. “Goo’... Guwl… Goo’... Guwl… Goo’... Guwl…” Only two words remained, the only two words that she needed, for they accomplished everything that she wanted. Annie only wanted to feel good, to supplicate her body and diaper with the affirmation that she was only a baby rat that used her diapers. It was sufficient, no greater desires or wishes came to her mind other than being changed into clean diapers to turn them into messy ones. It was her sole point of interest. Now, she guided her paw to the front of her diaper, groping and poking at the thick, sodden material as yet another jet of pee escaped her, filling it further. She felt the urine drip down her front, seeping down into the flattened cake of her messy accident and mingling with it. Like so much mud against her backside, she wriggled around further, soft gurgles escaping her mouth as the sensation of being in a thoroughly used diaper spiked her dopamine levels to obscene levels. She would never be free from this high, her body would now be fully dependent on using her diapers several times a day to remain functional. It was her only source of happiness, and what a bountiful source of euphoria and glee it was. She would lay in her crib, piddle and push in her diapers, and reminder herself that she was a very “Goo’ guwl” for all eternity. This was her lot in life now, and it had now become irreversible. “Oh dear, it smells like someone just left me a little present in their diaper.” Came the voice belonging to the large, plush lop-eared rabbit. This was the only face Annie knew, and the only one she saw. Enchanted with a spell and given life with magic, this stuffed animal remained inanimate in another room, rising only to feed, wash, change, and clothe Annie when she needed it. It was all the rat needed, spending her days laying in a crib with nothing but the sheer blankness of her mind to keep her happy. She hardly understood the words that came from the rabbit now, but she appreciated the soft tones that she used. The rabbit spared no amount of effort ensuring that Annie remained calm and well-behaved, keeping her well fed and hydrated to maintain the rat’s only purpose for existing in her nursery. To use her diapers, to love her diapers, and to be completely dependent on her soft, pink diapers. “Now then, let me wipe that poopy little butt of yours and let’s put you into a fresh, new diaper. Doesn’t that sound nice, sweetheart?” The rabbit cooed, lowering the bars of the crib before reaching forward to gently cup the bottom of Annie’s diaper. She continued, her voice slightly bemused as she shouldered her diaper bag and deposited it down on the mattress next to Annie. “Oh my, it feels like you really did a number on this one, baby girl. Now then, let’s see what surprises you left me this time around.” The nursery was then filled only with the sound of tapes being slowly ripped off, and the crinkling of plastic as her diaper was unfolded. The rabbit took her time cleaning Annie up, letting the rat enjoy her touch and the pleasant sensation of having her fur wiped. There was no rush, after all, for the rat’s fate was filled with only the inevitability of a diaper change. No cause for hurry, for Annie was never to leave the confines of her crib, standing in the dungeon’s nursery, for the rest of her blissful days. When the Hypno Kicks In [Comm].pdf

Chapter Twenty-Six Syllabus Week The ghost paws had made this decision to place Hunter in his regular, babyfur-themed diapers for the rest of the week. The fox had little trouble hiding them due to the weather, as wearing several layers including flannel pants had made it relatively easy for him to hide his choice of crinkly underwear. Having no publicly embarrassing moments visiting the convenience, school supply, and bookstore leading up to the first day of class, he had mentally prepared himself for a surprise when he woke up wet a few hours before his organic chemistry class. The paws had lovingly unfolded a fluffed one of the hieroglyphic diapers that morning, specifically the one that had the three cygnets on the front. He had been nervous, unknown magic would be a part of his day that he would likely have to deal with. That was why when three ghostly Egyptians were looking up at him next to his changing table, he knew that his unexpected interruption to his life had arrived. The fox had stared back at them, unsure of how to react at the sudden appearance of the ethereal creatures. One of them strode over to the backpack he had prepared that morning, looping its long bill through one of the straps to pick it up before waddling over to him expectantly. The fox sighed, taking it from the bird and looping it around his shoulders before putting on a bare pair of insulative pants. From the look of it, he would have three companions accompanying him throughout the rest of the day. The ibises appeared to have minds of their own, pecking at random bits of trash as he had walked down the street from his apartment, invisible to all except him. It was only when he walked into his organic chemistry class was he surprised to not only find Jack waving at him cheerfully from the bench, but to see the weasel tilt his head questioningly at the birds that were waddling after him as he took a seat next to his friend. “Dude, what are those things?” Hunter shook his head, taking out his grotesquely thick textbook and letting it thump down on the table in front of him. “What do you think, they’re my back-up dancers.” The fox had quipped, no hint of humor in his voice as he turned to face the front of the classroom, trying to ignore as one of the ibises fluttered up to the book and began to peck at the cover of his textbook. He raised a paw to shoo it away, to which it squawked indignantly before flying off the desk once more. Jack had given him a weak smile, eyeing them with suspicion as he looked around to gauge whether anyone else was reacting. It appeared that the apparitions were visible only to him and Hunter, as the fox did his best to ignore their curious venturings to various corners of the classroom. “Are they like here to stay, or…” Jack trailed off, and Hunter told him what he figured was the most accurate answer he could come up with. “They came with my… Uhh… ‘morning change.’” Flexing his fingers to create air quotes, he opened the front of his textbook and began perusing the notes on the first chapter. After reading a few equations, feeling relieved to find some familiarity with the topic of hydrocarbon rings it was discussing, he turned his head without taking his eyes off the page as he asked his friend. “So, what are you doing in Orgo?” He raised an eyebrow at the weasel, just as one of the ibises hopped up on the desk once more and tilted its head inquisitively at Jack. Jack eyed it suspiciously, before turning to respond sheepishly to Jack. “Uh… You know, learning.” Hunter looked at him, smirking slightly as he assessed the weasel’s apparent discomfort. As any college student knows, this particular branch of chemistry was renowned for being particularly unforgiving for students with bad study habits. The fact that Jack had had the grades last semester to even make it into this class was an achievement in and of itself. The fennec continued staring at him, until at last the weasel gave in to the scrutinizing stare. Sighing, he opened his textbook disdainfully and began to imitate Hunter’s perusing as he responded “If I manage to pass this class, they’ll double the credit value for it and mark off a D on my chemistry course last semester. I had to practically beg them for this deal, and I think they found it amusing when they finally agreed to it. My counselor looked pretty entertained.” “I’ll say, you know this is a weed out class right?” Jack swallowed, looking up nervously to stare at an ibis at the far end of the room who was busying itself by dumpster diving into a recycling bin. He responded, his voice unsure. “Yeah… I’m going to need to study… And maybe look at your notes again, if that’s alright.” Hunter shook his head in mock disapproval, the corner of his muzzle turning upwards as he gave the weasel and assessing look. Jack caved until his gaze, placing his paws out in a silent plea as he continued. “Come on man, if I don’t pass I’ll lose my scholarship and might even be held back a semester. This is serious.” “You have a scholarship!?” Hunter said, his ears pinning to his head in surprise as he stared at the weasel. His friend’s discomfort did not lesson, as he continued to monitor the ibis that was currently engaging him in a staring match. “Yes, I do. Anyway, so what are these guys all about anyway?” Hunter shrugged, reaching forward to touch one on the bill experimentally. The bird looked back at him in what could only be described as an offended expression, hopping away from him and shuffling its feather agitatedly. “I don’t know, maybe it’s kind of like a fluke spell or something. Or maybe it's just outdated, like it might have been relevant way back when or whatever. They don’t really seem to do much other than be kind of annoying. They came from the hieroglyph on my… Yeah…” Jack nodded, reaching into his bag and taking out a granola bar. Unwrapping it, he broke off a piece before crumbling it in his paw. He glanced around briefly to see whether anybody else was looking at him before dropping a few crumbs onto the ground. One of the ibises caught wind of this offering, waddling forward and leaning down to tilt its head and inspect the goods. Clicking its beak once, it turned away disdainfully before inserting its long, curved beak into Jack’s bookbag. “They’re ghosts dude.” Jack looked a little annoyed, responding back sarcastically. “Wow, real scientist over here.” A second later, the front door to the classroom opened to reveal a tigress walking through. A thin pair of half-moon spectacles rested on the bridge of her nose, her auburn fur quite the sight as the classroom quieted down as she entered. Placing her briefcase on the table at the front of the class, she picked up a piece of chalk and began to write. After writing her name and the university from which she got her PhD: “Yurvik University” she turned to address the class. “Hello everyone, I’m Dr. Zadira. Three times a week, we shall be meeting in this room and discussing worksheets, lab assignments, and exam prep. There will be six exams, each of which comprising 15% of your final grade. They will be cumulative. The remaining 10% of your grade will be homework and lab results.” Jack kneaded his paws in his lap, surprising a groan as he heard the stringency of the grading rubric for this class. With 90% of the grade being test-based, performing on each consecutive exam would be paramount for a good final grade. Hunter thought of it as relatively generous, given the fact that each exam’s content would stack on top of each other. In the front of the room, one of the invisible ibises hopped up and looked curiously at the professor’s briefcase. Hunter and Jack held their breath, watching as the bird opened its beak and began to tamper with the front buckle holding it closed. The tigress appeared not to take notice, as she turned her back to the class and began sketching out with the chalk once more drawing out several carbon chains. The two friends watched with bated breath, seeing that the ibis’s determination to open the briefcase did not lessen. With a click, it opened, flopping open and spilling its contents across the floor with the sound of fluttering paper. As if in slow motion, the tigress turned, staring confusedly at the pile of strewn notebooks and manilla folders. The class was quiet, watching to see how she would react. She smirked, stepping forward to pick up the office supply detritus, packing it back into the suitcase before returning to what she was drawing. The ibis chittered irritatedly, waddling and weaving between the tigress’s footpaws as it left to retreat into the back of the classroom to join the others. Hunter exchanged a look with Jack, the two wondering the same thing. If these paranormal activities persisted throughout the entire hour, how would a class filled with scientifically minded individuals explain it? Thankfully, however, the ibises appeared to have become tired from their mischief. Hunter a few minutes later they had huddled together next to his bag, preening the feathers on each other’s backs. 𓁥 𓁢 𓐭 “Oh would you just look at these cuties!” Malissa exclaimed, reaching down to pet one of the ibis’s on the head. It hopped away from her, looking at her outreached paw distrustfully as it shuffled its wings. The three were at the cafeteria, laptops and textbooks out as they waited out the afternoon until their next class. Jack was looking over his Orgo notes, demonstrating a significantly more studious attitude than Hunter could ever remember him showing before. The moment the otter had seen the ibises, she had clearly fallen in love with them. The birds seemed to care less for her affections, embarrassing Hunter twice as they pecked inquisitively at the front of his pants, gently squishing the front of his soaked diaper as they did so. “So they really don’t do anything?” Malissa asked, and Hunter shrugged once more as he popped a french fry into his muzzle, chewing before responding. “Other than getting into trouble, no not really. Nobody else can see them except us, and they seem more interested in random trash and bookbags than anyone.” “They did totally spill everything out of Dr. Zadira’s bag though.” Jack added, grinning as he took a bite out of his PB&J. Malissa looked thoughtfully over him, before zeroing in on the sandwich he was eating and looking at it disapprovingly. “Someone really needs to teach you how to cook.” She remarked, taking out a tuna fish salad sandwich she had packed for the day and opening the plastic bag it was contained in. Jack shrugged, placing a peanut butter covered thumb into his muzzle and smacking on it obnoxiously. Chewing, he opened his muzzle and rattled out excitedly. “I think I might have some information on the relic thingy though.” Malissa and Hunter turned their attention to him, just as one of the ibises knocked over a stack of plastic cups over at the utensils bar in the cafeteria, plastic forks and spoons following shortly afterward. “What?” Malissa prompted, looking intently at the weasel while holding her sandwich halfway through her muzzle. The weasel grinned devilishly, pleased at having captured both of their attention so easily. With great deliverance, he spoke in as serious a tone as he could muster. “It’s from Egypt.” The two stared at him in shocked silence for a moment, before Malissa picked up a grape from her tupperware and flicked it at the weasel’s head. It hit him squarely in the forehead, after which he clapped both paws on his head and exclaimed exaggeratedly. “Ow! That hurt!” “Good.” Malissa remarked, turning away in disgust as she addressed Hunter who was still staring, unamused, at the weasel. “Any actual breakthroughs on the other hieroglyphs?” Hunter shook his head, setting down the french fry he was holding on his plate as he spoke. “No, this is the first time I was put in the ibis summoning one. I still don’t know what the other two do, or even if there are going to be anymore. I wish I could pick them out, if I only got to wear the panther ones I think I’d be set until we get more info on the curse.” Malissa nodded empathetically, her attention drawing back towards one of the ibises that was currently tailing a rabbit, hunched forward and ruffling its wings behind it as it stalked the oblivious student. “Well, they’re cute even if they are harmless. I’m going to hazard a guess to say that they’re supposed to be like, little bodyguards of some sort?” Hunter shrugged, willing to accept the explanation as he returned to his snacking. “Yeah, possibly. They’re kind of distracting to be honest.” Malissa turned her attention to Jack, a gleam in her eye as her whiskers quivered as she posed. “So… Orgo?” “You too? You guys are awful.” Malissa raised her paws up in mock innocence, responding in a high-pitched defensive tone. “I’m just asking!” Jack sighed, closing his notebook and taking another PB&J out of his backpack. This was his forth, causing Hunter to grimace incredulously as he watched the weasel unwrap it and take a bite. Talking with his mouth full, Jack responded sincerely as he chewed. “Look, this is a ‘last chance’ kind of deal. I’m gonna be cutting back on the weed too.” “Wow!” Malissa exclaimed, appearing genuinely taken aback as she looked at him. There was a note of respect on her muzzle, and Hunter decided that it would probably be best not to bully his friend too much. He offered. “I’ll give you my notes, but you should probably come over and study with me a few times a week. Wanna swing by my place on nights after class? If we did a review and tested each other we could be in pretty good shape.” “Totally!” Jack exclaimed, grinning and appearing genuinely pleased. Malissa nodded approvingly, closing her laptop as she made to head off for her next class. “Don’t have too much without me boys, we’re still on for Saturday bar crawls right?” “Totally.” Hunter echoed, giving her a wave as she walked off to her next class, her rudder tail waving casually behind her.

Chapter Twenty-Five Snack Run Winter that year had come with an unexpected advantage. Despite the fennec’s natural fur coat, the arid sands from which his species originated had not accounted for the inevitable global expansion into much chillier climates. Now, garbed in sweatpants and a goose-feather coat, Hunter now at least did not have to worry too much about being discreet with his padding. The fennec was standing in line at the local convenience store, his reusable shopping bag having been filled with an assortment of snacks he was sure his mother would have had a few words about. He’d work his way through them before the university cafeteria opened up, having decided that he might as well treat himself a little before the next semester started. Malissa was still on a cruise with her family, and Jack would be back in town in the next two days. Hunter eyed the shelves of arrayed salty and savory snacks, knowing full well that the moment Jack came over to his place the snacks would begin to disappear at an accelerated rate. Grabbing a few more bags and stuffing them into his bag, he took a step forward now waiting second in line. His mind must have been particularly distracted by the thoughts of his weasel friend eating him out of the house, his gut lurching as he felt something snag the waistband of his pants. The fennec’s eyes bulged, his jaw dropping open in shock as he felt the elastic band of his sweats snap, spilling his pants onto the floor of the drug store into a depressed heap around his ankles. The panther hieroglyph now on full display on the front of his diaper, his cheeks reddened as it took him a second to realize the sound of tearing fabric had been quite loud. He looked up sheepishly, figuring that he must have caught the attention of the shoppers around him. Instead they stood, as they were, politely ignoring him as they waited for their turn in the queue. Hunter stared at one of them, a rather scrawny looking antelope teen who was holding a large Icee. Eventually, the antelope returned the look, raising an eyebrow but maintaining eye contact with the fennec. Realizing that he might have appeared rude, Hunter quickly turned around and faced forward once more. The bison in front of him had checked out, and Hunter took a crinkly stride forward to address the chipmunk behind the cash register. “Cash or card?” The chipmunk squeaked, not taking any notice of the fact that Hunter’s padded, and now slightly soaked, was in full view. Hunter glanced behind him for a moment, looking at his ruined sweatpants in utter confusion before he turned back to the clerk. “Uh, debt.” He mumbled, dumping out the contents of his bag and allowing the chipmunk to routinely scan them, the rodent’s buck teeth flashing momentarily as he stifled a yawn. How is nobody reacting? It’s like I’m invisi- Hunter looked down and stared pointedly at the panther covering his crotch. Of course, there was something different about the hieroglyph covered diapers, but this development was most unexpected. If there was one point of consistency when it came to the magical power of the brooch, it was that it seemed determined to shout to the entire world around him that he was a little kit. Now, for whatever reason, it appeared that the trinket’s influence had instead decided to spare him the inevitable humiliation he had come to expect. Experimentally, Hunter swung his tail from side to side, eliciting a round of obnoxious, plastic crinkling from the seat of his diaper as he did so. He glanced behind him, having just given the customers behind him a full show of the state of his padding. Nothing, no reaction. “That’ll be thirty-eight seventy-six please.” The chipmunk chittered, after which Hunter hastily paid and stuffed his collection of snacks back into his grocery bag. The bell of the front door jingled behind him as he stepped back onto the street, a couple blocks from his apartment. As the wind blew between his spindly legs, which were now feeling particularly chilly save for a small part of his inner thighs insulated by his padding, he trudged forward towards his flat. None of the passersby paid him any mind, a fact for which he was feeling surprisingly grateful. He was still cold, however, and was frantically rubbing his thighs as he walked up the stairwell and back into the welcome warmth of his apartment. 𓅹 𓅢 𓅸 Hunter stood in front of the enchanted changing table, internally reminding himself not to hop up on its surface so as to not activate the helping hands that would no doubt be all too keen to change him. Stooping, he sorted through the hieroglyphic diapers and picked one from each type of symbol. There were several cougars, ones he hoped would be regularly magically restocked given their incredible potential to maintain his peace of mind. There appeared to be three other types of hieroglyphic diapers. One which looked like three water fowl sitting in a boat, another which appeared to be a baby bird, and the last appeared to be a crook and flail which he recognized from his previous research. 𓃮 𓅹 𓅷 The word ‘cygnet’ bubbled up to the front of Hunter’s mind as he looked over the baby bird symbol, wondering whether his guess as to what kind of spell this particular rune would cast was accurate. Hunter eyed the other three diapers suspiciously, unsure of whether they would end up with favorable outcomes as the panther had done. Unless he abstained from the hieroglyphic diapers entirely, which might not necessarily be possible given the haunted nature of the changing table, he would likely find out their various enchantments soon enough. Taking his phone out, he took a picture of each of the diapers and opened up Malissa’s texts messages. Feeling a little sheepish sending his friend pictures of his diapers, he saw that she had replied to the original message regarding the panther. Panther, yup. Meaning sneaky, stealthy, quiet, unseen. Before sending the images, Hunter replied promptly. I believe it, given the fact that the chip stand at the drug store decided to pants me and nobody noticed the giant Egyptian themed pillow on my butt. Sending the photos off with a question prompting further translation, Hunter put his phone away and removed the diapers from the surface of the changing table. Behind him, he felt something grope the back of his soaked padding. Hunter squeaked, whirling around to see that one of the clawed ghost paws appeared spontaneously behind him. It vanished a second later, having apparently come to the conclusion that the fennec diaper could still withstand an accident or two. Sighing in relief that he was not about to be accosted by several pairs of ghostly paws, he returned his attention to the shelves of diapers beneath the surface of the changing table and took out his favorite brand. The various pampered pups, kittens, and cubs grinned up cheekily at him, playing with their various infantile toys as they crawled over the surface of the plastic covering. Despite the knowledge of the curse’s influence, Hunter harbored a particular fondness for this brand of padding. Hoping that this would influence the will of the ghost hands when bedtime came around, Hunter deposited the pamper meaningfully on the center of the changing table’s surface. As he headed into the living room, his phone buzzed. Opening it, he read through Malissa’s response. The first two will require some research as to their meaning, other than the obvious I guess. However, the last one is a pretty famous symbol: the Crook and Flail. Basically, they’re weapons when crossed that represent royal authority and power. Hunter waited as Malissa typed out another response, instinctively reaching down to squeeze the front of his diaper to check just how wet it was. He hoped he could hold off on a change until just before bed. As in you managed to cover it up? The fennec took a moment to type out a response. No, like everyone could have seen it in plain sight but nobody appeared like they noticed. So either the brooch duped me or it duped everyone around me. Three small dots appeared on Hunter’s messenger app as Malissa wasted no time in typing up another response. Snap a picture of it and send it to me. Hunter grimaced, looking down at the front of his diaper where the hieroglyph had faded slightly from the amount that he had already peed into it. Sending a picture of his padded front to one of his close friends, despite one that was in the loop on what was happening to him, made him feel more than a little self-conscious. Hunter bit his lip, trying not to think too much about just how excited the prospect made him feel in addition to his initial shyness. Deciding that taking the initiative and simply sending her a picture would probably be the best way not to make a big deal out of the request, he did so. He waited a minute, barely breathing as he wondered whether or not the trinket’s magic would translate through a picture on his phone. A second later, Malissa’s response came. Uhh, you need to take your pants off first for me to see it. Hunter reread the message several times in disbelief. The influence of the hieroglyphic diapers clearly covered all of their bases, which made the poor fennec all the more apprehensive to try out the other ones without knowing what they would do. He responded quickly. Still not wearing any, whatever you’re looking at isn’t the picture I took if you see any pants on me. The otter responded. Okay, yikes. I guess good luck with the other ones? Hunter typed. Yeah… Lastly, Malissa responded. I’ll look up the other ones tonight and let you know if there’s anything sus about them. Leaning back down on his couch, his stomach grumbling, he moved himself over on the cushion until he faced the kitchen where he could just see his plastic grocery bags sitting on the counter. In classic college fashion, he would probably not have a meal more substantial than box Mac N’ Cheese until the campus cafeteria opened. He turned his head over to the wooden box on the mantelpiece, idly musing to himself. If only this thing could conjure up three-course meals for me and maybe do my house-cleaning for me… He griped silently to himself, eventually gathering the motivation to push himself off of his couch and rifle through the grocery bags. He was feeling lazy, and with about five days left of his winter break before the semester started he was not exactly in a hurry to maintain a productive mindset until he had to. Having checked his inbox on his phone finding no syllabi sent earlier, he flopped back down on the couch with a large bag of cheese curls. He began browsing through the channels on his TV, consciously avoiding the children’s channels as he tried to bring his mind off of the daunting prospects of the upcoming semester. Hunter had confidence that he would be able to pull off a similarly well put-together GPA this semester, same as last given the fact that he now knew what he was going up against. Paying little attention to what was happening on the screen, the full weight of what he was going to have to deal with hit him. Hunter took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to calm himself down. This is going to be a lot for me to handle… He mused to himself, reaching for a stuffed red panda plushie that had been reclining on the opposite end of the couch. Hugging it, the fennec suddenly felt very small. This was not the kind of small the brooch was intending either. College grades, a social life, and contending with the fact that reality altering ‘magic’ was real. The latter was something he had not even fully digested for fear of becoming overwhelmed with panic and existentialist dread. Where do my physics and chemistry courses even fit into all this? He stopped himself, knowing the cliff he was looking over. He sighed again, wondering whether or not he should have picked up something stronger from the drugstore to treat himself with. Having been idly clicking through the channels, Hunter saw that Blue’s Clues was playing on one of the channels. Deciding that it would be best not to dwell on the possibility that this was somehow the trinket’s doing, he selected the episode. “Bah bow!” Blue cheerfully exclaimed from the television speakers, and Hunter nestled himself down further onto his couch. He would let his mind drift for now. Tomorrow’s problems would be tomorrow’s, after all.

Me and you both!

Fixed, adjusted, and rephrased! I performed a full read through and there were many 'softs' scattered here and there, so I snuffed out most of them.~ Genuine thanks for the feedback! I'm very happy to hear that you're invested in this narrative of mine. Save Hunter further embarrassment? It's almost as if you haven't been reading the story, hehe. 😋

Chapter Twenty-Four Winter Break Hunter allowed himself a large sigh as he set his suitcase down in the front hall of his apartment, pulling his backpack straps off of his shoulders and allowing that to softly fall next to it. The two weeks he had spent at home during winter break had been somewhat uneventful when it came to the antics caused by the trinket, a fact he attributed to the only reasonable notion which was that with the increased distance its magical effects were somewhat diluted. He had still wore diapers to bed, a fact that he had several close calls with when it came to concealing the matter from his parents. Only a couple times had he woken up wet, which had been the better alternative to having to wash his bedsheets several times throughout his stay in secret. The topic of the mysterious brooch had been on his mind throughout the stay at home, and he had asked several questions about Auntie Tare to his mother. He had tried to be sparing with his inquisitiveness, as he could tell that the grief from having lost the relative was still something that his Mom was grappling with. Still, she seemed too happy to discuss his late aunt, mentioning how she was always rather distanced from her family life once she had started upon her career, spending most of her time in far off countries, the most prominent of course being Egypt. Despite Hunter’s high hopes, the most he was able to glean was just how close his mother and Auntie Tare were. If there was anyone that his Aunt would want to reach out to if she was even still alive, it would have been his Mom. Radio silence remained on his DaringTare.com account, even after Hunter had sent another message to the badger asking whether there had been any progress to figuring out what had happened to his aunt. The lack of information from his side of the search had been frustrating, and only after having joined a group call with Malissa and Jack had he stumbled upon anything relatively interesting. Both Hunter and Malissa had scolded Jack for going out on his own to find information about the brooch, being both a risk to himself and to Hunter who was the owner of what was apparently quite a pretty piece of Egyptian treasure. Jack had assured them that nothing would come of it, eagerly sharing the fact that he had learned about Pharoah’s blood being required to utilize any of the magic possessed within the items. This had puzzled Hunter, as his species technically hailed from the deserts of the Western hemisphere, far away from any of the native species that might have the ability to channel this “blood of the pharaoh” business. Malissa had stated that since Aunt Tare was a cheetah and had been adopted, it could be possible that she might have been descendent from a line of Egyptian royalty. Hunter accepted this as feasible, but it still did not explain why a genetically unrelated individual such as himself had the ability to activate the charm’s mystical influence. Jack posited that maybe the way the Egyptian magic worked was through familial bonds more so than actual blood, and neither Hunter nor Malissa had argued with this statement. They had little else to go off of, after all. Hunter had thought about this fact while he was eating dinner on Christmas Eve, unsure of what to make of the idea that he and his surrounding family were technically of the ruling Egyptian class. While they lived comfortably, they were not particularly wealthy or prestigious. The fact that he was somehow special enough to activate ancient powers of an Egyptian relic seemed somewhat absurd to him, but so was that fact that he had been given a diaper change by his Calculus professor only a few weeks prior in front of his entire class. Now, back in his apartment, the fennec looked suspiciously towards the wooden crate stationed on top of the mantle piece in his living room, a sense of foreboding entering his lower gut as he thought about what trouble it would undoubtedly cause him this semester. He shook his head, deciding to keep himself focused on the mundane task of moving back into his apartment as he picked up his travel bags and moved them into his bedroom. He would unpack, check the syllabi waiting in his inbox to be perused, and organize whatever new stuffed animals had spontaneously materialized in his bedroom. Opening the door to his room, his mouth dropped open at the sight that was in front of him. The talisman had kept itself busy while he was aware, as where his bed, desk, and chair had previously been they were now replaced by a completely different set of furniture. The walls of his bedroom had been painted, featuring a desert landscape filled with many creatures that befitted the Egyptian, dusty wastes. Over by where his bed had been, which was now replaced by a robust, ornately decorated crib large enough to hold him comfortably, the wallpaper’s desert bloomed into the lush environment surrounding the river nile. Toothy crocodiles, chubby hippos, and delicately legged gazelles gathered by the Nile’s waters, a deep blue sky looking over the entire scene with a peaceful serenity. The crib, made of a dark oak wood carved into intricate patterned swirls, appeared rather intimidating, as Hunter noticed that its bars reached all the way to the ceiling. At its foot, a large toy chest stood open, with the fennec’s growing collection of stuffed animals spilling out of it and onto the surrounding floor. The floor too had received an upgrade, now fitted with a lush, soft carpet that the fox’s footpaws sank gently into. His desk, which had previously been a rather sparse wooden table on which he would rest his laptop and textbooks, had been replaced by a changing table. Egyptian hieroglyphs dotted the wooden legs, with several open shelves hosting a collection of necessary changing materials. At least that’ll save my wallet a bit of use… Hunter thought grimly to himself, turning to note whether there had been any other additions to his bedroom. A rocking chair stood next to the crib, currently hosting a large, stuffed lion who appeared to be wearing a cloth diaper around its waist. Its arms were open invitingly, as if it were beckoning Hunter to take a seat in its soft lap for a cozy hug. The rest of the space was occupied by a playpen, a harness and leash lay simply in its center, attached to a stalwart spoke in the center of the mesh-walled play area. Hunter eyed it suspiciously, wondering at the purpose of such a set of straps and why it was placed forebodingly in the center of the playpen. The fennec half expected the nursery to somehow come to life, pulling him into the infantile lifestyle that it imposed on him to embrace. The fennec felt a twinge in his nethers, and realized that the tantalizing offer in front of him was indeed one that he wanted to accept the invitation to. He shook his head, refocusing on the task at hand as he lugged his suitcase over to his closet, opening its door. What he saw hardly came at a surprise, as he noted that his wardrobe had been replaced by a large collection of baby clothes. Onesies, sleepers, overalls, and several choice kigus hung neatly on their coat hangers, organized by color and size. Most notable, he saw that one of the sleepers appeared to feature a lion’s mane, equipped with a tufted tail that would loop over and cover his own. He grimaced, feeling his cheeks burn as he imagined how he would look wearing his thick, crinkly underwear outlined by the snuggly fitting waistline of the sleeper. The nursery remained inert for the time being, but Hunter could feel the artifact’s magic at work. While he was gone, it had painstakingly tailored his bedroom to become reminiscent of a nursery belonging to a prince of Egypt. Hunter saw that there was little to no room to house the few clothes he had brought back home with him, and decided that it would be best to keep them in the closet space by the front door. After lugging them inside, trying not to think too hard on what he would do with his now limited wardrobe for showing up to class, he padded back to his nursery for further inspection. The diapers stacked neatly in the shelves of the changing table appeared all to be in his size, as he presumed they would be, and featured not only his favorite padded cartoon characters but several choice Egyptian themed styles. Hunter picked one up that featured several ash-colored kittens, romping about with one another while others napped comfortably on ornate pillows. On the tape landing zone, he noted a particular hieroglyph in golden ink directly in the center. 𓃮 At first glance, it appeared to be a large cat, though whether it was a lioness or some other sizable feline he was as yet unsure. He figured that it must be a panther, although his limited knowledge of indigenous feral species of Egypt caused him to doubt himself for a moment. He took out his phone, and ignoring the hot sensation that bloomed in his cheeks, snapped a picture of the diaper and sent it over to Malissa for analysis. He noted that several other diapers appeared to have similar animalistic designs, featuring a notable animal hieroglyph in their center. Hunter knew that there had to be some kind of purpose to these symbols, and given the fact that the brooch was anything except prolific with its designs he had a needling suspicion that there was purpose behind the hieroglyph. At that moment, Hunter felt something damp between his legs. He glanced down, and cursed under his breath as he realized that he had just wet himself without noticing. Panicked, he hobbled over to the bathroom to strip himself of his wet travel clothes before he started to leak onto the carpet. He sighed once more, this time from frustration than the exhaustion of traveling. Of course this was the welcoming gift he received when coming home for the second semester of that school year. He grimaced, peeling his sodden underwear off of himself before depositing it down into a neat, soggy pile on his bathroom tiles. Resigning himself to the fact that he was now under the full influence of the cursed brooch once more, he exited his bathroom fully in the nude and over to the changing table. He hesitated for a moment, then mentally shrugged and hopped up onto the plastic surface. Hunter was about to reach down between his legs for a choice piece of padding when a sudden wave of lethargy washed over him. He swayed for a moment, his eyelids growing heavy before he toppled backwards, landing gently on his back with his arms above his head. His limbs felt heavy, as if after a long day of working out, a comfortable numbness settled over his body while his eye remained half open, staring at the constellation filled night painted on the ceiling above him. From thin air, wispy paws materialized in a uniform formation around the changing table, fingers hanging limply from their detached wrists. They glowed a soft, pale blue, semi-transparent as fingers stretched and flexed as though waking from a long period of rest. The ends of their fingers ended in claws, reminiscent of the paws of a jackal. On several of their fingers, jeweled rings adorned their paws which gleamed in a sourceless light, glowing distinctly as if filled with a magical aura of their own concealed inside of their shiny surfaces. Six of these paws closed in on Hunter, two of them neatly tucking the fennec’s forepaws above his head, one tickling him gently underneath the chin with the tip of a claw, whilst another slowly rubbed his belly. The final two busied themselves with picking out a choice diaper, Hunter’s favorite decorated with several padded babyfurs, unfolding it and working together to properly fluff it out. Hunter’s mind was bathed in a lush, fluffy cloud. The delicate attention that was being paid to his body relaxed him even further, a hushed, uncharacteristically childish giggle escaping his muzzle as his hind legs kicked gently in response to the tickling. One of the paws that had been working on fluffing out the diaper parted from the other, gently gathering up the fox’s ankles and lifting his soft bottom up into the air. Expertly, the other claw placed the unfolded diaper in front of the fennec’s lifted tush, placing itself palm down on the absorbent interior and sliding it underneath him. Slowly, Hunter’s ankles were lowered down and his bottom landed gently onto the waiting diaper. Floating through the air, the two paws responsible for padding him up moved together in synchrony as they neatly grasped the front of the diaper with the tips of their fingers. Ceremoniously, they lifted it up and over Hunter’s diaper area, patting it down firmly. As one hand remained fixedly down on the landing zone, the other began to deftly maneuver around and place the tapes onto their landing zone. With calculated symmetry, the paw aligned the tapes and pressed down upon them, rubbing gently so as to activate their adhesive. All the while, Hunter gurgled helplessly, one of his paws now batting gently at one of the ghost paws, who was entertaining the oversized kit by deftly bobbing and weaving. It dodged the fennec’s bapping paws, wiggling its fingers teasingly at him every time it evaded him, causing Hunter to giggle giddily in response. Unaware of the diapering sequence complete, the two paws that had padded him up shook one another as if to congratulate themselves on a job well done, before one of them floated forward and patted Hunter affectionately on the patted bottom. Two of the paws gently scooped Hunter underneath his armpits, pulling him up until he was in a sitting position. Then, with surprising strength and dexterity, they lifted him up and deposited him softly on his footpaws. While one of them continued to affectionately pat him on the bottom, eliciting muffled crinkles from the plastic now snuggly covering his behind and looping around his tail, another booped him lazily on the nose. Hunter closed his eyes, giggling once more in response to the teasing. He opened his eyes, his sense of self returning once more only to find that the mysterious paws had vanished once more. He blinked, processing what had just happened before looking down at the diaper hugging his waist. “Oh…” He said out loud, to no one in particular. The symbols decorating the changing table now made more sense to the fennec as he looked behind him once more, realizing that not only did it come with its own store of diapers but they were also equipped with a magically infused changing system. Hunter thought about just how much he had enjoyed the process, lulled into a simple mindset as he was, and spoiled rotten with affection and attention throughout the entire changing process. He had enjoyed it immensely, as despite his resolute intention on stopping the curse somehow, he now almost wished to repeat the entire process once more. He glanced down at his padding once more, noting that the tape job and conformation to his body had been executed in a manner superior to his own diapering process. The ghost paws knew what they were doing, clearly, and the underwear around his waist now felt almost like a natural part of his wardrobe. Hunter eyed the crib to his right, noting that it also had its fair share of hieroglyphic symbols engraved into its wood. If the changing table had such enchantments, his new bed would no doubt follow suit with similar arcane magic. With only a few hours until bedtime, Hunter knew that he would likely be discovering its magical influence all too soon. He glanced down at his padding once more, noting that the tape job and conformation to his body had been executed in a manner superior to his own diapering process. The ghost paws knew what they were doing, clearly, and the underwear around his waist now felt almost like a natural part of his wardrobe. Hunter eyed the crib to his right, noting that it also had its fair share of hieroglyphic symbols engraved into its wood. If the changing table had such enchantments, his new bed would no doubt follow suit with similar arcane magic. With only a few hours until bedtime, Hunter knew that he would likely be discovering its magical influence all too soon.

I was working on my Linktree account today for which I created a dozen 50x50 pixel art icons, and decided to make it available for public use if anyone might have any interest in utilizing them. They're very simple. DD_Logo_50x50.aseprite

Wolf + husky = wusky! I'm fond of the idea of a little guy who's descended from a barely domesticated species and an undomesticated species, making for a little rascal of a toddler. Several, thick layers of fur, a propensity for cold weather, and a little deer mark on the nose to tell those around him that he's really a gentle little guy make up all the important details. In terms of fur color, I chose simple grey and brown gradients; comfortable to look at but not too eye-catching. Attached artwork by Wen.

Chapter Twenty-Three Jack’s Gamble Jack had always been under the impression that he was a very, very clever weasel. Sure, he had never properly applied himself in school, nor had he shown any particular interest in a craft or anything that would be useful in a career. There was only one exception, and that was his ability to ingratiate himself to just about any fur he set his mind on. Weasels were often stereotyped for being crafty, tricky, and the type of fur that you would have a hard time trusting. Jack knew this, and despite the borderline racial stereotyping his kind of species received at first glance, he had made the decision from a young age to use it to his advantage. He was eager, honest, and openly naive about his interests and activities. He played a lot of video games, liked to slack off and get stoned with his friends, and generally did little to cultivate himself as a productive member of society beyond engaging in as many social events as he could. He knew a lot of people, and a lot of people knew him. Jack was the comedian, the butt of the joke, the guy who would never back down from a perilous dare no matter how stupid an idea it was that he was presented with. The weasel liked how he led his life, even if he occasionally had to get a lecture from Malissa about just emphatically impressed she was at how apparently empty the space between his ears was. In order to fund his lazy weekend smoking weed and playing games with his fellow coasting friends, Jack had the responsibility of procuring the stuff given his disposition to get into places he very much should not be venturing into. He knew of a bar a few blocks south of the university, the place he usually went to meet with his drug dealer. While the weasel had never gone inside, as every week there seemed to be a burly ox or grizzly bear shouting drunkenly being escorted by policemen after having torn up the place, he knew that the shadier characters in the city were particularly fond of this haunt. The weasel glanced up at the neon sign stating, “Swine’s Cradle”. That is so on the nose… He thought grimly to himself, edging his way past the security guard standing stalwartly outfront. Jack evaded the bull terrier’s suspicious glare, slipping inside and making his way directly towards the bar front. His sights were fixed on a jackal, who was currently examining the cloudy contents of an empty glass that was frustrating her efforts to polish. It was early in the morning, so the dregs of last night’s alcoholic responsibilities were currently slouched, scattering amongst several seats and stools throughout the eerily quiet pub. This was exactly how Jack wanted it, as this would likely attract the least amount of attention for what he was going to investigate. “Hey, Shiva.” The jackal looked up from the glass, giving the weasel and impatient look before returning her attention back down at the sisyphean task she was keeping herself busy with. “What, rat.” Ignoring the nickname, Jack hopped up on a barstool before thinking twice and moving one seat to the side. The ox that was currently taking a nap face down on the bar surface appeared particularly muscular, which the weasel wanted to give a wide berth. “What do you know about Egyptian talismans?” The jackal stopped what she was doing, her upper lip curling as she placed the glass down with a little more force than was necessary. Lazily, she turned her head towards the inquiring weasel as she flopped the rag down next to the glass. “If you’re looking to buy more weed you don’t have to start with borderline racist small talk, you hear?” The weasel gulped, shaking his head and holding up his paws in an attempt to placate her. “No no! I’m… Uh, not here to buy weed… This time… I figured you might know something about them… I… Uh… Have a project and-” “You want homework help? Are you fucking serious?” Jack could see that he was only making things worse by explaining himself further, so he decided to double down on supplication instead. “Look, I just need a few minutes of your inside and I’m gone, alright? I just figured I’d ask. I'm in dire straits for my grade here.” Jack had had to think quickly on his feet, and he hoped that she would not call his bluff. It was the end of finals week, sure, but it was a Sunday morning. The jackal gave him a once over, glaring at him with two golden irises that in the right light sometimes appeared to be glowing. She snorted, looking down once more before picking her glass up once more. Without looking at him, she spoke. “You need someone with Pharaoh’s blood to be able to do anything about the ones that are left…” Jack, for once, remained completely silent. He was sure that she had just called his bluff, but he hesitated to admit that her assumption that he himself was dealing with an Egyptian artifact was spot on. He waited quietly, his paws placed on top of the paw as he did his best to steady his breathing. The jackal continued, her heavy accent coming through as she continued to dictate. “Easily said than done finding the ones that are left, although my great grandmother allegedly had a piece of one. Even harder to find someone with Pharoah’s blood that's willing to cooperate let alone not take the talisman for themselves…” She sniffed once, ebony nostrils flaring as she held the glass up to the dim light illuminating the bar surface. Jack followed her gaze, seeing to his mild surprise that the glass was now completely transparent. With a satisfied smirk on her muzzle, she set the glass aside before moving in front of Jack and placing her paws on the surface of the bear in a domineering gesture. The weasel looked up at her bleakly, his ears pinned against the top of his head as he gazed back with wide, watery eyes. The jackal spoke softly, the usual gruffness in her voice now gone to be replaced with a tone that was almost soft. “Whatever you’re dealing with, kid, this isn’t something you want to get entangled with. Stick to flunking classes and smoking weed if you know what’s good for you.” She gave him a meaningful look before pushing herself back and waving a paw over the back of her head. “Now get out of my sight.” Jack’s heart was pounding, the information he had received with minimal prompting had sounded very promising, if a little confusing. Hastily he pushed himself off of the stool, almost tripping and falling off of it as he scampered towards the exit of the bar. Behind him, he heard Shiva's voice rising as she raised her voice to rouse the sleeping drunkards. “Wake up, assholes! If I don’t see your tails exiting the bar in the next ten minutes I’m calling Jeff to give you the express ticket home!” 𓁥 𓁢 𓐭 Hunter’s knee was bouncing up and down at a frantic pace. His anxiety was through the roof, for it had not abated since he opened his university email that morning to find an email from his calculus professor waiting for him. The message was briefly, simply telling him the window of time that his office would be open that afternoon for Hunter to come see him. It had been polite, if a little short, and it had seemed to be more an offer than a firm command for Hunter to see him. The fennec had been strapped for ideas on how to deal with the situation that had arisen during his calculus final. Malissa had advised that he let the situation be for now, as she figured that the polar bear was likely trying to figure out the same thing. There had only been one point of correspondence before then from the bear, which had been an email to the entire class stating that only problems that had been given full answers would be graded, and that any questions left partially answered would be given partial credit if the work appeared to be trending towards the right answer. This had come as a source of great delight to the majority of the class, as the easier questions had been situated towards the beginning of the exam. Because of this, Jack had figured he had a chance to pass the class, barely. The door to the polar bear’s office was closed, a small sign hanging on a string reading that the bear was currently out of the office. Hunter figured that his teacher was simply out for lunch, and had decided to wait for a while to get this over with. Hunter could feel a small tremor registering on the bottom of his paws, which he figured was caused by the approaching footsteps of the bear making his way up the stairs. A few seconds later, the door to the staircase opened with a squeak and the visage of the polar bear loomed into view. The professor stopped in his tracks as he caught sight of Hunter, a grimace coming over his muzzle as he smiled awkwardly at the Fennec. “You got a hundred.” He said flatly, motioning towards the door of his office with a heavy paw before continuing to speak. “Now that hard part, come inside.” Hunter nodded, the brief spike of delight at hearing his grade was quickly washed over by the wave of anxiety of what was about to come. He was not sure whether he would be able to fully explain what happened to the bear without sounding crazy. He figured he would let the bear speak first, walking inside and sitting himself down awkwardly in the seat in front of the professor’s desk. The polar bear leaned back in his armchair, placing his paws on his chest and folding his claws together. He chuffed, appearing somewhat lost for words before he let out a grunt of displeasure. “Alright, lets get it over with. The physician I saw yesterday explained to me that what occurred was likely a fugue state. He did not sound too sure of himself, and the fact that items I don’t remember putting in my briefcase appeared there can’t be explained by loss of volition like that. Would you care to share your thoughts on the incident?” Hunter took a deep breath, his voice catching in his throat as a small, muffled groan left his muzzle. He closed his mouth again, looking down at the surface of the polar bear’s desk and blinking twice in quick succession. The fennec figured he would follow in the polar bear’s directness and reciprocate with his own. In a flat tone, he began to lay it out. “My aunt’s inheritance is an Egyptian artifact that has cursed me with eternal youth. It makes the world around me become infantilized, and recently its started to affect other people around me and not just myself.” Hunter looked up to assess the polar bear’s reaction. His professor was frozen, staring at him with two, pale blue eyes that flitted from one of Hunter’s peepers to the other. The expression on the polar bear’s muzzle appeared to be somewhere between incredulous and offended. A few seconds later, the polar bear sighed and drew a large paw over his muzzle. He let out a groan, his voice rumbling in his throat as the sound came through a long exhalation. The fox flitted with his paws, the hair on his tail standing on end in agitation as he waited for the bear to speak. At last, he did. “Hunter I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I believe what you just said more than I believed the judgment of my licensed physician.” The bear hesitated, looking down at his opened paws as if trying to find an answer inscribed on them. He let out a sound of disgust, then barked out a short laugh, before resuming his previous lazy seriousness as he spoke. “I’ve already spoken with the Chair of Public Outreach to discuss a donation I am going to be giving to the local pediatric hospital. Here’s the story…” The bear nodded to him in a practiced manner, a gesture that he most likely had practiced with many students before. It beckoned for Hunter to pay close attention, which the fennec needed no further prompting for. “You and I pulled a charity stunt, but there was a mix-up. We were both under the impression that the fliers for such an event were handed out, and we performed our little ‘stunt’ under the impression that people knew. It doesn’t cover all of our bases, but it’s an easier explanation for people to swallow than whatever the hell actually happened. It’ll help me keep my tenure, paint you in a selfless light, and make it a more understandable event to make light of. Do you understand?” Hunter nodded solemnly. The idea was clever, if not entirely comprehensive. The fennec suspected that the polar bear had been busy pulling several strings to prevent such a thing from spiraling out of control, judging by the lines underneath his professor’s eyes. The fennec swallowed, opening his muzzle as if to say something but then finding he had nothing further to comment. This was simple, and with winter break coming up people would find other things to talk about before the next semester started. For a moment, Hunter wondered if this was the trinket’s work. Did it inspire the polar bear to come up with such an idea? The fennec looked up at the bear once more, scrutinizing him for a moment before deciding against that notion. His professor appeared haggard, as sleepless as Hunter was when he was first dealing with the artifact’s influence. The fennec shifted in his seat, his padding’s muffled crinkling meeting his ears to the fox’s embarrassment. The bear did not appear to notice, as he was massaging his temples with the ends of his claws. He spoke, his voice sounding fatigued. “Okay… That’s it… I want nothing to do with this anymore… You can go…” Without needing any further prompting, Hunter hastily made his way up to his paws and was halfway out the door when the bear called back out to him. “And Hunter…” “Y-yes?” The bear pursed his lips, giving the fox a bemused expression as he continued. “Whatever it is you’re dealing with… Good luck… And don’t involve me in it anymore…” Hunter gave the polar bear a weak smile, nodding once before lingering in the doorway for a moment longer. “Thank you for the semester, sir.” “You did well.” The polar bear waved a paw, and Hunter made short work of leaving his office as he shoulder his backpack onto his bag. It had gone better than he accepted, but the small fox still felt like he wanted to get away from the bear’s office. He was likely one of the last few remaining students on the campus, and he wanted to make his way back to his apartment to start packing. His flight was leaving early the next day, and if there was anything that the fox needed at that moment it was some time away from the box containing the cursed brooch.