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Hey-lo, and welcome to another new story of mine (no, I have no shame in the use of this title). This is a dark spin on a babyfur story with real-world elements (with an evil member of Big Pharma being the Big Bad), so please pay attention to the content warnings on the tags. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. So, with all of that said, do enjoy~ - Chapter One: Jealousy, Rage, and a Gilded Cage - Archer Dove was furious. That…bitch had broken the heart of the wrong man! Charmaine Dryden, a.k.a., the bitch who broke his heart. A top FBI special agent along with him (with him holding seniority as a senior special agent), beautiful platinum-blonde hair in a bun, sky-blue eyes, a towering 6’5” without heels (he was still taller at 6’7”), huge hips, ass, and tits to match her size. He had asked her out. “Married to my job,” she said. “Not interested in dating,” she said. “I would like to remain friends only,” she said. Bullshit! No woman could resist his charm! Every single one of them fell for him the moment they saw him. But he didn’t want them. He wanted her. And she dismissed him. Rejected him. Publicly humiliated him. He was strong, masculine, handsome, a talented shot, amazing in the sheets, everything a woman could want! Why did she reject his advances? Was she threatened by him? Of course, in her twisted little mind, a supposed “independent woman” would be threatened by a strong man. The horror of having a man tell her what to do! Unlike that fucking cuck friend of hers, Veil. She probably fucking pegged him and took it up the ass from the higher-ups, probably a bit of both at the same time. Dove smirked through his anger. Speaking of pegs, he had a plan to destroy her foolish pride and knock her down a peg or two. He’d have her no matter what, one way or another. Humiliate her a bit, have her fail miserably at her assignment, get her fired. And he’d be there to save the day for her, and she’d respect his authority. All he had to do was get a fall guy, and Shadrach Veil fit perfectly, the nerdy little nobody, stuck playing his stupid D&D games on his computer on FBI business, while the real men fought on the front lines with their guns drawn. He hated everything about that fucking geek, from his oversized horn-rimmed glasses covering his mud-brown eyes and baggy clothes two sizes too big for a weaselly 5’3” frame (probably why he was a fucking cuckold), to his nasally voice and twice-broken nose, all the way to his long (to the length of feminine) brown hair and messy brown beard that could probably hide a bird’s nest in it. Yeah, he had absolutely no issues with throwing the blame on Veil with his plan. The computer expert had his…sordid little past that should’ve disqualified him from the FBI, anyway. Dove tried to get him fired once before, but failed. He would say publicly it wasn’t personal between them, but privately? It most certainly was. It had been simple to get Veil’s computer password; as a supervisory special agent in the FBI, Dove had that power and oversight. It had been done in such a way that nobody would even remember he asked. From there, it was simple to hack into the nerd’s computer while he was away on his hour-long self-defense classes that the FBI all but demanded he get after he had his ass saved by Charmaine for the third consecutive time in the field (what a pussy, having to get saved by a woman!), see where Charmaine was going, where she had gone undercover…and burn her. Dove smirked, his green eyes showing cruelty at his little game. Charmaine wanted to fuck with Big Pharma, the biggest pharmaceutical company out there: MVF, based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Technically, the name was Belgian: Mensheid Voorop Farma, standing for “Humanity First Pharma”, but “MVF” simply rolled off the tongue easier for most Americans. It was worth multi-billions, which, to him, at least, was more money than anyone could ever know what to do with. They made new treatments for cancer, stem cell research, shit that got grants up the ass. She had gone undercover as a scientist, apparently had a big enough brain for it, and had somehow managed to worm her way into the middle rankings (probably by sleeping with someone). Why she did it didn’t concern him an iota and what they “supposedly” did concerned him even less; let the rest of the FBI deal with the embarrassment of trying to deal with the fallout from her and “Veil”. It had been a simple matter from there to call them - from Veil’s phone, of course; it had been no easy feat to steal it and have him think he lost it. The security guard, some woman with a Dutch name and South African dialect - he didn’t particularly recall or care - was quite intrigued by his description of Charmaine’s false identity down to its entirety. She got him talking to her boss, the CEO of the company, the founder, a shockingly young Belgian man by the name of Augustijn Van der Aart. From his voice, Van der Aart sounded like he was in his early forties. To be that young and rich…well, at least he wasn’t more handsome than Dove was. The CEO sounded very interested in his proof, seemed to believe him, but Dove refused payment. “Too easy to trace,” the FBI agent said. And the only payment he wanted was Charmaine getting what she deserved. And now, all that remained…was to wait. - Augustijn Van der Aart was not surprised to hear the news from the man named “Veil”; just the person he expected the news to be about. The founder of MVF had long since known that there was a mole somewhere fairly high in his organization; such was the case when one was into the things he was. He had not expected it to be the woman known as Catherine Darden. She was fairly high in sciences, and she had earned every bit of it. From everything he heard about her, this woman (whom he now knew to be Charmaine Dryden) seemed to be an ideal candidate to be promoted to the mid-levels: smart as a whip with a personality to match, an ideal aptitude for company work, driven - all things Van der Aart admired in a woman. However, he had no tolerance for moles (to him, they were not really much different than rats), no tolerance for the FBI being in his business - and thankfully, this FBI agent’s selfishness and pettiness (he could tell even from the phone that the man had probably been rejected by her, and to be honest, he could certainly see why; Veil seemed extraordinarily toxic.) gave him a perfect opportunity for his latest test run. Apparently, he had covered Dryden’s tracks from the FBI well. Nobody in the Bureau knew where she had gone specifically, just that she was deep undercover. He had looked up her familial records: both parents had died when she was young, an orphan without any siblings, not even a spouse. Perfect for his line of…specimens. Nobody to miss her, nobody who would give a shit if she disappeared. He had called up his chief security officer, Margaretha Roijakkers, and his head scientist, Deborah Leblanc, to his office to discuss the matter discreetly. His chief security officer was a white South African woman born in an upper-class family, a driven woman with a vicious cruel streak that unnerved even him…but she was undoubtedly, unquestionably loyal to him after he saved her from a very long imprisonment for mass murder and crimes against humanity in her home country, and for allowing her sadism to be unchecked and hidden from the law. His head scientist, a Belgian like himself, had made all of his dreams possible. She was driven, ambitious, and at the same time, cared less about the subjects than one would an ant they had stepped on. All the “volunteers” were mere statistics, mere stepping stones to her rise, and yet she was also loyal to him for giving her a job after science groups had spat on her…and because he indulged her perverted fantasies about her work - so long as she kept it to her work. He discussed things with both women, neither interrupting until he had finished discussing the situation. Then Roijakkers brushed a loose strand of short blonde hair out of eyes as blue as sapphires, yet dead like the many Black men she had murdered and buried. “So, how do you want to play this?” she asked. “I’ve looked at her file; she’s very quick with a gun and knife, and if we tip her off, we’re finished.” “Well, you stated it succinctly, Margarethe,” Van der Aart said, steepling his long fingers, his green eyes never leaving the desk of papers, his bald head gleaming in the light. “We can’t let her leave here, and we can’t tip her off. Deborah, is there room for another subject?” Leblanc’s blue eyes lit up like a Christmas tree as she panted excitedly, her long blonde hair tickling her heaving chest. Roijakkers, for her part, looked annoyed at her colleague. “I could easily use another test subject!” the scientist said, her glasses askew. “And if the FBI finds out?” Roijakkers asked. “Then we’ve ruined our entire operation.” “The FBI doesn’t know she’s here at the moment,” he said calmly. “I expect Veil to turn on us again; if he’s turned on the FBI, he’ll turn on anyone. His cooperation is simple: to him, he wants her, and he thinks he can have her no matter what she thinks about him. But if we simply kill her or fire her, we risk having everything crumble. Making her disappear and paying off or blackmailing Veil? Definitely the best option - and our science works perfectly in that regard.” “I could have the formula ready by today!” Leblanc said. “Ooh, do give me the order, Sir, and I’ll have her in chains, ready for her dosage, oh, yes, I will!” “We’d have to keep her as a lab rat for the rest of her life, much like the others,” the South African said coldly, trying - and failing - to ignore her colleague all but orgasming out of ecstasy. “If she’s ever freed, she’ll talk, and people will listen.” Van der Aart smiled. It was not the warm, well-meaning smile that most were accustomed to seeing at work; the malice behind it was as deadly as a pit viper, unnerving even the psychopathic sadist that was his chief of security. “Then we see to it that she’s never able to talk again.” - Charmaine Dryden was preparing for another day at work undercover at MVF. The science team was nice for the most part (even if Dr. Leblanc was absolutely creepy as hell), work was fun and she was able to do it easily. Even the vast majority of security she saw was easygoing, even if the things the FBI had on the head of security painted her as the Devil in heels. She stretched her arms out, as sharply dressed as a scientist could be: lab coat, a white blouse, black slacks, and casual flats. Normally not her style (she wouldn’t be caught dead in a skirt, dress, or heels; that just wasn’t her), but that was okay. She was just eager to get the day started, especially with what she had seen yesterday after digging through MVF’s security camera files (with a huge amount of thanks to Shadrach for teaching her basic computer hacking skills). Many odd specimens, both human and animal. Small, probably children or around that age. It was very limited information, and she needed more info, needed to know what, exactly, she was dealing with, but what she did know was that the FBI - and Dove, in particular, much as she was extremely annoyed at his constant flirtation towards her - was right to send her on this mission: whatever MVF was doing couldn’t be good for humanity, as much as they proclaimed the origin of their own name to be. Then a voice blared on the intercom, obviously one of Van der Aart’s secretaries. “Can I request Miss Darden to the CEO’s office in terms of a promotion?” the pleasant feminine voice said. “Again, Miss Darden to the office of the CEO for a promotion.” The scientists crowded around Charmaine excitedly, some of them giving her fistbumps, others shaking her hand, and still others clapping her on the back, and for a moment, she truly regretted having to burn these men and women. Perhaps when this was all over, she’d try to convince the FBI to give them jobs somewhere - at least, those who were innocent of any crimes. She walked over to the elevator, feeling naked without a gun or knife on her. MVF had stringent policies about weapons, and even better detectors that could pick up the smallest trace of a weapon. If I need to, I can just get a weapon from a security guard? But they have no reason to suspect me, right? Nobody knows I’m FBI…right? Charmaine knew that it was a possibility that someone had caught her snooping around. A small possibility, but not too small to fully ignore; after all, mob families had given out promotions to lull targets into complacency before killing them. Just stick to the act. You are Catherine Darden, a normal scientist getting a promotion. Stick to the act, and you’ll be fine. She was used to acting; this was far from the first undercover mission she had undertaken. She was in the drama club in high school, and this wasn’t much different; all she had to do was get into character - and it was easy getting into character for this Michigan girl, born in Detroit’s tough streets (Fiskhorn, if one wanted to be specific), orphaned at a young age, doing everything to survive in the various foster homes. That was where Charmaine met Shadrach Veil. They had become inseparable, like siblings, even though they looked completely different and had different interests. They had both worked hard to become the people they were because nobody expected anything from them…and when she had been selected to the FBI (mainly because she was an expert sharpshooter in college marksmanship, but also because of her abilities as someone who could go into any role needed), she had insisted that they hire him as well, despite…his history. Charmaine was lost in thoughts as the elevator stopped at the top floor, the office of Augustijn Van der Aart. She opened the door nervously, seeing the man himself greet her with a warm smile. Then she felt the prick of something behind her neck and immediately collapsed, her muscles no longer supporting her, a whirlwind of nonsensical thoughts forming a cacophony in her brain before everything went completely black. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Alby Madden stalked through the cubicles of Madden & Maddox Testing Services, listening in on the sales reps, his floppy ears perking up in various directions. “When can we arrange a meeting with your school board?” “That’s right, we include remediation and test prep materials” “We’ve got a free inservice workshop tutorial package so that all of your teachers can use the specialized curriculum with ease.” “Oh no ma’am, we’re not like those other education companies. It’s about Students, not Scantrons.” Madden & Maddox Testing Service was a growing and competitive company that marketed standardized testing materials, as well as curriculum, remediation, and tutorial services to various school boards across the country. They hadn’t over taken any of the big four- Harcourt, MCGraw-Hill, Riverside, or Pearson- but they were getting there. It was all about that hustle. “So dinner tonight? Seven? Yeah. Sounds great. Can’t wait.” Alby’s ears pricked up. That wasn’t company talk. The doberman padded over to the sound of the disturbance. “Hey, Christine,” he popped his head in. “Working hard, or hardly working?” The manx cat stiffened at the sound of Alby’s voice. “Oh, hey, Alby! What’s up?” “Nothing much,” Alby said. “Just doing my rounds, you know how it is.” Christine stared straight at Alby, not daring to so much as blink. “Yeah. Heh. I do.” Alby narrowed his eyes, and resisted the urge to growl. “Cool cool. Just checking.” “I was just about to start another call…” “Awesome.” Christine didn’t turn her head until Alby snorted and trotted off back to his office, his well trimmed claws not so much as brushing against the thin functional office matte. He sped up with a jaunty spring in his step when the manx actually started doing her job. In the pecking order, Alby technically wasn’t very high. He was the building’s office manager- a word which here means ‘glorified secretary’- but he was very good at his job. The way he explained it to people, he was kind of like the head of the office’s pit crew. He managed janitorial services, put in work and supply orders for materials, putting together and creating reports, and giving orientation to new administrators. Alby. Kept. Shit. Running. Pissing the twenty-five year old off, was a good way to end up at the top of his shit list and at the bottom of whatever list you needed to be on to get a problem solved. It didn’t hurt that his dad was the co-owner and boss of the company. A little nepotism never hurt anybody; or it didn’t hurt Alby at least. Alby went to his office in the back and made a note about Christine. He’d see if he could tell custodial services to skip her space. Let the clutter build. Or maybe he’d just tell his dad that an employee was making personal calls on company time. Not the specific employee, but a vaguely worded email from on-high could do wonders for group productivity. Chances are Christine wasn’t the only one breaking policy; and it’d make everyone sweat. Then as soon as sales boosted back up, Alby could order a couple of pizzas or a party sub and all would be right with their tiny little world. The idea was enough to make Alby wag his tail slightly, but he stopped, after one or two. Gingerly, as if scratching an itch, he patted the back of his pants, carefully feeling for any hint of satin or lace peeking out of the waistband or through the tail hole. For all his quiet bravado and perceived power, Alby had a secret, an addiction almost, that he just couldn’t shake. It was stupid on multiple levels. On the emotional level, who would care that Alby liked to wear women’s underwear to work? Or that he wore even more feminine clothes in his spare time? Objectively speaking, they were just clothes. Officially speaking, Madden & Maddox gave zero shits about what a person wore or did outside the office as long as it didn’t get them arrested, and didn’t care much about what they wore inside the office as long as it wouldn’t affect their bottom line. It was only panties, for gosh sakes! Dad would care, though. Albert Madden, Sr., wasn’t some kind of raging homophobe; that would have required a sign of emotion. The man was positively stoic about most things. That was so unnerving to Alby, though. If he knew…he would know…and he’d know…and they’d never talk about it…but he’d know… At most, he could see himself getting a formal debriefing (an ironic choice of words considering) about what was and wasn’t appropriate company dress, and a warning. He’d be told he wasn’t technically breaking any office rules, and it was only underwear, but it might be for the best if he avoided such indiscretions in the future as wearing something a lady would wear on a hot date. Same as any other employee, and somehow that made it worse. Then there was the fact that any authority or leverage he had over anyone would evaporate the second his choice. Alby did his best to present a front of formal business sheik and above all masculine. He was a young professional; the boss’s son. The next boss when the old man retired in ten years or so. He’d been made Office Manager so he could learn the inner workings of the company, and thus did everything he could to project a kind of relaxed strength. But who would follow his lead if they were constantly snickering behind his back? No one. Alby’s choice of undergarments was stupid for more strategic reasons, also. One could only be caught if they were doing something risky to begin with. The funny thing about twenty-five is that it’s a special age where taking risks is half the fun and you’re the main character of your own story. The secret thrill of wearing satin and lacy panties around the office while subtly bullying and bossing around people ten and twenty years his senior gave Alby an adrenaline rush. ************************************************************************************************ Max Connors sipped his tea and watched Alby pad away back to his office. The company’s top sales representative shook his head at Alby. “Hmmmph…” The Eurasian wolf’s senses were just as keen, keener even than the boss’s son’s. He waited until the little doberman was in his office busying himself with paperwork. “Brat.” Max sort of wished Alby were just a ‘brat’, but no such luck. The boy was cute, handsome even, but he knew it, too. The cute ones were always dangerous when they knew it. He was the heir apparent to the company, despite having zero previous job experience. Yay nepotism. Alby was the kind of cocky sonofabitch (literally in this case) that Max knew he was when he was in his twenties. Most people were like that at that age: Knowing they’re not kids and knowing they’re adults, while still failing to realize just how much shit they’d yet to experience yet. Max smiled to himself, thinking of what an idiot he’d been back then. He really had been still a kid. Granted, Max was only thirty-six, and assumed his forty and fifty year old colleagues probably thought the same thing about him, and he knew that when he was their age, he’d look back and realize they were correct; but even knowing that he possessed that kind of bias was leaps and bounds from where he was at Alby’s age. Something about Alby itched at Max, however. Something that made Max not want to give the basic courtesy and patience afforded to youth. Alby wasn’t a brat; not in the way Max liked them. Brats literally begged to be put in their place; they towed and crossed lines wanting to be punished and shown where the line was. It was part of the game, part of the fun. Part of the challenge. Alby just liked getting his way. And because he could so often, the doberman had become something of a bully. Case in point: Christine. The burly wolf stood up, stepping to the side in the aisle and then waiting patiently next to the manx’s cubicle. He waited respectfully for his co-worker to finish her call. Christine caught Max out of the corner of her eye and jerked her head around, loosening up when she saw it was only Max. “Oh,” Christine slowly blinked. “Sorry Max. I thought you were somebody else.” Max cut straight to the chase. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Alby’s not gonna do anything. He’ll probably just say something super vague to his dad and then we’ll get a company wide email about not making personal calls on company time.” Christine started shaking. Bits of hair started to fall in loose strands to the floor. Poor lady was so nervous she was shedding. “It’s my wedding anniversary. I was just finishing up dinner reservations and…and…” Max put a big strong paw on the cat’s shoulder. “Hey. Take it easy. That doberman’s literally all bark.” Christine looked down at her lap and around the chair. “Oh crud,” she brushed her skirt off and wheeled away from the strands of hair. “What if he makes it so that nobody vacuums here tonight? What if the hair piles up? How will that look? What’ll that do to me?” The wolf leaned forward so he could look the cat in the eye. “Don’t. Worry,” he said softly. “That’s not gonna happen. If he sabotages you too badly, that’s gonna look bad on him, not you. Nobody’s gonna get fired. Nobody’s gonna lose that bonus. You’re gonna be fine.” Christine certainly didn’t purr, but the ends of her hair stopped sticking out as much. “Okay. Yeah. You’re right. You’re right.” He breathed deeply. “You’re right. It’s just…it’s just…ooof, I messed up.” “No you didn’t,” Max assured her. “You taking ten minutes prepping for tonight so you can focus the rest of the day isn’t going to mess with the company’s bottom line. Do you have any idea how much minesweeper I play in a given day? It’s crazy.” “Yeah?” Christine asked, a hint of hope bubbling up to the surface. “Yeah.” Max assured her. Hearing it come from the top seller seemed to relax Christine. “You do what you gotta do to keep yourself sane in this place, that way you’re giving your best energy when you’re dodging and weaving through some district’s red tape so you can talk to a Superintendent. You’re not a robot, and that’s part of our selling point.” One of Madden and Maddox’s biggest selling points was ‘Students before Scantrons’. It was mostly advertising, but it was advertising that worked “Okay,” Christine sniffed. “Yeah. Thanks, Max. I got this.” Max stood back up. “I know you do, hon. You got this.” This wasn’t the first fire that Max had put out. Nor would it be the last. Alby had no idea how much weight he carried around the office. Or he did, and didn’t care. It made Max feel old thinking this to himself, but Alby was comparatively a pup who’d never actually worked a day in his life. Max wouldn’t have traded places for the world with Alby, though. As a sales rep (and a fantastic one at that) Max got a hefty commission for every contract he reeled in and a good pay for every seminar he ran re-educating teachers on how to use the company’s. When he wasn’t in the office he was on the road. Speaking of which, he was due to get on a plane and seal a few deals and run a few seminars all the way up until the holidays. Double dipping and burning the candles at both ends as it were. That meant that he’d have to spend the majority of tonight packing his suitcase as well as packing things away for the New Year’s Eve party at the end of the month. Max had drawn the short straw and Alby had all but volunteered him to host it. Max had a big farmhouse he’d inherited on an acre of land just outside of town. Lord knew he had the room to host. He’d hosted more than a few non-office parties there, and the weather was getting good and crisp so building up the fire pit would make for good times. Nothing like drinking and roasting marshmallows to pass the time. The big brick privacy wall running around Max’s property was also attractive since it allowed coworkers to make an ass out of themselves without getting arrested. Once again, Max had made use of that wall more than once. Alby assured Max that the company would foot the bill for most of it. They’d pay for booze, pizza, and catering. All Max would have to do is provide the space. Connors hated to admit it, but the boss’s kid was good at his job. Already had everything picked out months ago besides the space. Just wish he hadn’t been so gosh darn smug about it, like he was doing Max the favor instead of the other way around. Rank had its privileges it seemed… In another world, Max would have loved to break Alby of such attitudes. Alas, it was not to be. Someone as potentially toxic as Alby would just love to find out why Max had the big privacy wall surrounding his acre of land. That little mutt would just love to yap his head off and laugh if he discovered the kind of stuff Max kept in a certain room in his house. No one with any goddamn sense would care, but it’d be annoying. The wolf made a mental note to sweep his house one last time before going to sleep tonight; make sure everything was put away where it was supposed to be. When one lived a private life, one tended to take for granted certain things and normalize them; forgetting what new visitors might think. Max had his own secrets. He kept them not out of fear, but simply because what he did in his private time wasn’t anyone’s business. He’d take extra care to make sure it stayed that way. The image of Alby finding Max’s private playroom and then running his mouth about it caused Max to involuntarily snarl to himself, but he disguised it as having an itch. “Bullies…” Max muttered to himself. ***************************************************************************************************** “Should aaaaaaall acquaintance beeeeeeee forgot, and ne’er brought to miiiiind!” Alby paused. What was the next lyric? He couldn’t remember. So he just sang the first lyric again, but modified the melody so it sounded more like the second part “Should old acquaintance beee forgot, and ne’er brought to mind!” That got a polite chuckle from the gathered coworkers around the roaring fire before everybody went back to what they were doing anyways. Even in his inebriated state, Alby could tell the joke was roaring thin. It had gotten hearty laughter the first time. Now on the third time, people were just humoring him. Alby knocked back the cheap whiskey and coke and then hungrily crunched on the ice. “I’m out,” he said to no one in particular. “Gonna go get some schmore.” He giggled at his own accidental joke. There were people holding up long metal rods up to the fire to toast marshmallows right this very second. He thought about repeating himself, but the tiny part of his brain that wasn’t hammered thought better of it. Alby had no idea just how sloshed he was. He’d been the first to start drinking, and in his mind, he’d be the last, even if the world was kind of wobbly and it was only ten thirty at night. The air was cold and the people outside the house could see their breath, but it still wasn’t chilly or wet enough for it to snow. Good ugly sweater and heavy jeans weather. There was a large contingent of people gathered around the massive bonfire, roasting marshmallows and hotdogs. Others were just drinking and roasting themselves. Midway out were the smokers and grills Alby had rented and the heaps and heaps of barbecue and burgers still being produced. Easily the biggest expense of the party, but also the most delicious. There had been a steady line of people coming and going buffet style with plates making garlic bread sandwiches. Even further out and in the opposite direction of the bonfire, games of glow in the dark capture the flag had broken out among the younger employees and the older ones’ kids. Meanwhile, the older folks stayed huddled inside the farm house, chatting about whatever boring people talked about. Alby joined none of them and simply flitted about, saying hellos, and being a perfect social butterfly. He was always working after a fashion and had checked in with catering and various guests to make sure they were having a good time. It was Connors’s house, but it was still Alby’s responsibility. That’s why he’d been drinking so much. Work hard, play harder. Dry grass crunched under Alby’s feet while he stumbled around to the front door of Max’s farm house. Without realizing it, the office manager kept stretching out his sweater. He kept tugging downward out of it, paranoid that if he bent over the wrong way or his sweater bunch up, somebody might see a hint of red satin peeking out above his beltline. “Shouldn’t have worn….” he mumbled under his breath. “Or should’ve worn a jacket” Either would’ve been fine. Alby swayed through the propped open front door and felt himself jump when he came face to face with this creepy little right above the fireplace. The twenty-five year old backed slowly away and bumped into Patricia the cheetah from customer service. “Sorry!” He yelped. “Sorry!” He didn’t take his eyes off of the doll until he was a good ten feet away. Damn things were creepy as fuck. Never blinking, always looking like they were looking right at you. What the fuck was Connors’s deal? Just because he lived in his dead grandma’s house or whatever didn’t mean he couldn’t have changed up the decorating a little bit. Shame, too. Guy was kind of hot. Alby stumbled and fumbled past the crowd towards the kitchen where bottle after bottle after bottle of booze had been set up. Now it was the Office Manager’s term to knock him down. A firm and steady paw landed on the doberman’s shoulder, its weight causing the world to. “Careful there, Alby.” A deep, masculine voice said. There was a hint of warning in the voice; something stern, yet gentle. Also a little bit caring; almost paternal. Alby was very familiar with that voice and tone. “Hm? Da-?!” Alby cut himself off and felt his face flush. That wasn’t his father! That was Connors! He certainly looked more impressive than Albert Sr. did in a suit. Alby felt a flush of resentment that the sales rep was so much better dressed than everyone else. Like he was the host or something! “Huh? Oh. Sorry, man. Great party. Jush…needed to get out away from the fire, y’know?” “Maybe you should have a quick sit down,” Connors suggested. “Maybe get some water. That fire looks like it really dehydrated ya.” Both men knew that they weren’t strictly talking about fire. “Yeah,” Alby lied. “That’s why I was headed to the kitchen. Get some water. Get lotsa water. Get hydrated.” The wolf looked down at Alby suspiciously. Alby wasn’t the biggest breed or the biggest dog, but he hated feeling so much smaller. “Alright. Go take care of yourself, bud. Your dad is set to make a speech in about an hour. I’m sure he wants you there.” “Mhm,” Alby rolled his eyes. Dad wouldn’t notice shit. He never noticed shit with his end of the year toasts. As long as there was a vaguely brindle paw holding a champagne glass up towards Albert Sr’s general direction, that would be good enough. “Hey Max, can we get another log in the fireplace?” someone called. Connors turned his head and that was enough for Alby to slink away to the kitchen. Alby filed the condescension away for later. When he was sober enough, he’d find a way to give Connors a little bit of extra responsibility in the New Year. Alby proceeded to follow Connors’s advice…sort of. He started drinking water, yes. But he was trading off cups of water and shots of clear liquor. His confidence and sweater got a break, with him propping himself up against the kitchen sink, thus obscuring his backside and keeping him steady. With everyone else milling around and Alby steadily pacing himself between water and shots, no one had any idea just how completely trashed the doberman was; not even himself. It was eleven fifty-five when everything finally became too much for the pup of a man. His bladder shouted out at him, screaming in sudden protest. He had to pee like one of those Sea Biscuit motherfuckers from accounting. It all came out of nowhere too. One minute he was fine, and the next he was doing a little jig right by the sink. If this had been a different kind of party, he’d have been tempted to use the facilities right then and there because of how urgent the need had suddenly become. “Excuse me. Pardon me. Excuse me.” He bobbed and weaved, expertly, no matter how the room was spinning. “Scuse me!” The line at the bathroom by the bottom of the stairs was already two to three people back. Frick! Time for the upstairs. With dainty precision, Alby whisked himself up to the second floor of the creepy old farmhouse. This wasn’t a frat party, surely nobody would be up there. “Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom,” Alby hissed. “Place this big has gotta have an extra bathroom.” He jogged down the upstairs hallway, holding himself, looking for a place to pee. He looked to his right, “Office,” he said to himself and kept moving. He looked to the left. “Guest room no pisser.” Keep moving! “Some kind of storage room.” Where the hell was the other bathroom? The master bedroom! That’d have a toilet most likely! Should have just gone outside and pissed up against a wall or something. But then he remembered his underwear. He needed privacy to get everything out of the way! This made him even more frantic. Alby’s paw found a closed door with no light coming on from inside and felt hope. It was only vaguely diminished when he jiggled the handle and found it locked. Aha! Locked door! Lights off! Master bedroom! The spare toilet had to be in here! Downstairs he heard a chant build up. “TEN! NINE! EIGHT!...” This had two immediate effects on Alby. It both emboldened him to act rashly and also made his urgency greater. The volume and the chanting coming from downstairs and outside would surely cover any noise he’d make breaking open a door. The countdown was also triggering something in him subconsciously; making his need to void his bladder greater with every passing second. “SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!...” Alby rattled the door handle. First with one hand, twisting and turning the knob. Then with both hands. When it wouldn’t budge, he switched back to one hand, using his spare hand to pinch himself off. He wasn’t gonna make it! “FOUR THREE! TWO!...” Alby rammed his shoulder up against the door so hard that both the frame and his innards rattled slightly. A bit of urine leaked out into his nice red panties. Oh god! They’d be ruined! He’d be ruined! He rammed it even harder, hearing the wood crack while reaching for his belt buckle. “ONE!” The door gave way and flung open, with an incredibly drunk Alby tripping over his own feet right behind it. Momentum carried him forward even as the door smacked against something hard and sturdy on the inside and lazily rebounded closed behind him. “AAAAAAH!” Alby screamed, his pants coming loose and falling down to his knees while his eyes tried and failed to take in the dark room around him. His head collided with something terribly hard. His head struck the object- a shelf or chest of drawers of some sort- with such battering ram force that its contents clattered off its various levels around and on top of him. Things that in the darkness looked like little pillows or thick sheets of paper fluttered all around him and several plastic containers landed on the back of his head. It didn’t hurt, not really, the real damage had been done by the shelf itself. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!” If he wasn’t seeing double now from the alcohol, the oncoming concussion was certainly helping things along. A sense of quiet euphoria came over Alby Madden, his pants down past his waist, and surrounded by tiny, smooth plastic backed pillows. He no longer had to go to the bathroom anymore, and the most pleasant warmth was enveloping his loins, causing his member to grow hard even as it spouted more and more of the warm liquid. If his last modicum of sobriety hadn’t been knocked out of him, Alby would know that he was pissing himself. But he didn’t care so much about that. Instead, Alby smiled to himself and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply, noticing the fragrant smell of lavender coming from all around him masking the ammonia that he was outputting. “Should allll acquaintance beeeeee forgot…” he mumbled with the crowd downstairs, just a second too late. But then he forgot the rest of the words and fell asleep. The funny part was, that if Alby had just bothered to follow the bend around the hallway, he would have found the spare guest bathroom and the master bedroom and bath that he’d been so desperately searching for. ***************************************************************************************************** It was a good party, all things considered, Max thought. Stuffy of course, but office parties were always a little stuffy. Parties were formed based around commonalities and when the chief commonality was work, things were going to get a bit stilted and stuffy. Still a success, since Max hadn’t heard a single guest talking shop; not even the guys from accounting and shop was all some of those miserable bastards had. It was good barbecue that he didn’t have to cook and decent liquor that he didn’t have to buy. He didn’t have to clean anything up and was keeping the stuff that people hadn’t drunk. He’d definitely had worse events than this; even if the dress code left something to desire. Just for laughs he wore his favorite “Master” attire in lieu of the more office casual ugly sweater bit that most had seemed to opt for. Dress to impress and all that, and stand out so that people know where to find you. It was an office party but it was still Max’s house. Three A.M. came and went before the last of the sober patrons shuffled off to the cars and headed home. At least a dozen vehicles lay abandoned with drunken coworkers hitching rides and calling Ubers with promises to come quietly retrieve their cars when the sun was up. Max graciously said he’d leave the gate open for them and was thankful no one passed out on his couch. With a mighty yawn, he locked all the doors, turned off all the lights, and padded upstairs to his room. All was not well in Max’s world that early New Year’s morning, however. Out of habit and the slightest bit of paranoia, he ran his hand along the hallway wall and gently pushed on the door leading to his special secret room where everything had been locked away. It was nothing more than a tap, just a small way to reassure himself that the door had stayed closed. Nobody would be stupid enough to try and break through a locked door. Imagine his surprise when the door that was supposed to be locked, swung open with a groaning splintering creak, giving easy access to the nursery inside. A moment of intense rage came over Max. Some idiot had busted his door. One of his co-workers had for whatever reason gone snooping and decided to stick his nose where it didn’t belong. No embarrassment came to the wolf, only an intense sense of violation. He stepped through the threshold and turned on the light, ready to take inventory of what had been done. He’d dust for fingerprints. Look for claw marks. He’d take inventory of what might be missing and start mentally running through everyone who had so much looked at him funny that night.This was clearly someone’s idea of a joke, and Max wasn’t laughing. The light flickered on and Max immediately canceled the search. He found the corporate culprit laying right there, face down with his head next to the changing table, his body surrounded by diapers and his back coated in loose baby powder. “Hello,” Max smirked to himself. When Alby didn’t respond to the sound of his voice, Max’s brow furrowed in concern. “Shit,” he hissed. He stepped closer, not caring that the door to his nursery was wide open. Even if the party was still raging downstairs, Max would have been tempted to call for help. The only reason he didn’t was because no one would hear short of a cell phone. Holding his breath, Max examined the dog’s still frame and realized the dog was still breathing; snoring heavily in fact. “Okay,” the wolf whispered to himself. “Not dead…” At least he didn’t have to worry about that. He ignored the squish of wet carpet beneath his feet as soon as he realized it wasn’t blood. Bodily fluids didn’t bother Max too much; not when there were more immediate concerns. Were it not for the circumstances, Max would have wanted to tease the kid about needing protection. Very quietly and quickly, Max patted down Alby’s body, checking for anything that might be damaged; afraid to move Alby in case something was seriously hurt. As far as he could tell, Junior here had a nasty bump on his head and had way too much to drink, but that was about it. Poor idiot probably got drunk, beat down the door, tripped and bonked his head. Crisis averted, something else finally caught the big wolf’s attention. Alby’s pants were around his knees; a remarkable feat in itself that made Max wonder exactly what the boss’s son was trying to do. More interestingly however, was Alby’s choice of underwear. That made Max’s eyebrows raise more than a little bit! Max wasn’t the only one with a secret it seemed. “Happy new year, Daddy.” Alby mumbled, oblivious to the world around him and still very much in a booze drenched dreamland. Max’s smirk became a wolfish grin. The gears were already starting to turn. “Happy New Year, Alby,” he said. Happy New Year, indeed.

Okay, I know I'm coming up with all sorts of ideas lately, so I'm gonna go for this writing spree as I have it. Welcome to Curses!, a babyfur story where six prospective college-aged animals applying for a daycare job are physically and emotionally (but not mentally, per my usual) age-regressed~ Not exactly original, but I hope to put some new spins on it~ Of course, there's going to be a few mature themes that are dealt with in the content warning tags, so if you know you'll be affected in any way, you can stop reading at any point, and I will make sure to warn you guys when those things come up. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. And now, without further ado, the story: - Chapter One: Six Girls, One Job - Vanessa Cruickshank was bored and ready for the tour to begin for the daycare job she and her bestie, Shannon, applying for along with four other competitors. The giant anteater was dressed casually for the Bay Brooklet Development and Learning Daycare Center in Charlotte, North Carolina, wearing a black tank top with a skull in the middle, ripped blue jeans, and scuffed sneakers, her long bushy tail swishing with annoyance, as she waited outside in the chilly early October Saturday morning with the five other young women in her group. Needless to say, most of them didn’t get along with each other. “Watch where you’re swishing your tail!” the shortest among them, an Arctic hare, snapped. She was dressed to the nines: a white blouse, knee-length black skirt, black leggings, and five-inch heels (that somehow fit her large feet). “Hey, I don’t control where my tail goes!” Vanessa clapped back. “L-Leave her alone!” a mountain zebra spat at the anteater in a deeper voice that denoted her as trans. She wore a shin-length sky-blue dress (that didn’t work with her figure) and flats. “Funny, I thought she didn’t need a sidekick,” Shannon O’Brettle quipped harshly, the margay brushing her black miniskirt, her green sports tank top baring her midriff and combat boots somehow even more casual than Vanessa’s clothes. “At least I don’t dress like a slut to the job interview,” the hare sneered. “At least I rock my looks, Miss A Cup,” Shannon retorted, as the zebra looked down at her hooves shyly, the hare’s tiny paws patting the woman’s legs (as far as she could reach) gently as she glared at the margay. “And the job specifically insisted to wear your favorite clothes to the interview.” “C’mon, can’t we just have fun here?” a maned wolf asked in annoyance. She wore black jean shorts and crocs as well as a black T-shirt depicting a keyboard with the words “Don’t play me!” emblazoned on it. “There are three openings for pairs. We don’t have to argue.” “Just ignore them,” the final girl, an African wild dog, growled, trying to keep her ankle-length golden skirt and loose silver silk top from fluttering in the heavy gale, as she shuffled on her sandals. “Just because there’s six openings doesn’t mean they’ll get the job.” The job, Vanessa thought. Every one of them was desperate to get this job; it seemed like a dream for her, taking care of babies for six figures a month (she was not used to kids, only having an older brother and no younger siblings or cousins, but Shannon was, and she did everything with the margay), almost too good to be true. But she and Shannon were college seniors (and from the look of the others, they were as well), and they needed the money. Then the door opened, and a female northern flying squirrel wearing casual clothing (a red t-shirt without a logo, gray sweats, and tennis shoes) exited the daycare. She looked to be only a little older than they were. “Hi, I’m so glad you all could come!” she said in a perky tone. “I’m Connie Zanovelli, and I’m the head sitter of Bay Brooklet Development and Learning Daycare.” Vanessa was the first to shake paws, noting that Connie was even smaller than the Arctic hare. “Nice to meet you,” the anteater said politely. “Vanessa Cruickshank.” Shannon was next. “Shannon O’Brettle,” the margay said confidently. The hare followed. “Victoria Box,” she said in a cool tone. “Wait, Box?” Shannon asked. “As in the rich female couple?” The hare’s face flushed. “Yeah, what of it?” she muttered. “Why are you interviewing for this job, then?” the margay asked curiously, her tone surprisingly concerned. “Your moms cut you off or something?” “Because some of us want to take care of kids.” The maned wolf shook paws next. “Tempest Pitcairn. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Zanovelli.” The African wild dog continued with the paw-shaking. “Shiloh Nash. Good to meet you, ma’am.” The mountain zebra sighed shyly, shuffling her hooves, seeing as she was last. “I-I’m Hester Dampier. I-It’s good to m-meet you, Ms. Zanovelli, ma’am.” “It’s wonderful to meet you all as well, but please, call me ‘Connie’; ‘Ms. Zanovelli’ and ‘ma’am’ sound so stuffy.” Connie’s smile was friendly. “Technically, the Pilkvists wanted to hire extra help. I’m assuming there’s going to be a lot of kids, given the hires.” “How long have you been here?” Vanessa asked. “About a month. They just opened the daycare to the public, so…” Connie looked almost contemplative. “Well, I’m glad that you all are here for the job interview.” Vanessa looked at Shannon, the margay’s face matching her confusion. Only a month open? That was…a bit unusual. “My bosses wanted to hire extra help for whatever reason,” the flying squirrel said. “So…shall we go in? It’s a bit too cold to stand outside.” “Of course,” Victoria said, barging her way in with Hester, her apparent friend, following nervously. Shiloh and Tempest followed next, leaving Vanessa staring at Shannon. “You sure about this, Ness?” the tree cat asked. “It’s a little…” “Weird? Sketchy?” the giant anteater finished. “Yeah, but if it pays six figures a month for this alone, I’m willing.” “Thanks for coming with me, Ness. I know kids aren’t exactly your thing…” “Any time, Shanny. Let’s go in.” The two lifelong friends went into the daycare and looked around. The walls had a light pink hue and were decorated with infantile posters, the floor was covered entirely with soft fuzzy carpet, and the ceiling lights were warm yet not intrusive, but other than that, it was sadly empty of anything, like the items were going to be moved in at a later date. Even the other four applicants weren’t there, only Connie was outside of an office door that they hadn’t noticed before. “They want you going in separately,” the flying squirrel said to them. “Good luck with the interview!” “Where is the next one?” an older female voice asked in a raspy tone. “Who wants to go?” Connie asked. “You do it first; I know I’ll do well enough,” Vanessa said with a smirk. “Fine. I’ll see you as an employee,” Shannon said with a smirk of her own as the margay walked to the door, opened it, and entered the room. Vanessa waited and waited, tapping her foot, before she felt her phone buzzing to display a text message. The anteater was annoyed; she had purposely kept her phone on vibrate and told her folks not to call her during the interview. She looked at the message, no, a lot of messages, one after another. Threatening, wheedling, threatening again, demanding her to answer, threatening yet again, faux loving shit, and, to nobody’s surprise, threatening once more. In short? Another message from…him. Her stupid fucking ex, Ryan. She had blocked all of his phone numbers, but he always got a different phone to call her with. It was annoying and more than slightly scary. The anteater blocked this one as well; she had no time to deal with this shit. She noticed the time. Almost noon. What was taking so long? Connie was on the phone with someone as well, as she said, “Raffy, I know you wanted to pick me up for that fancy lunch, but I’ve got a slate of interviews at my job, and my bosses are very nitpicky about that.” A pause. “Sure, 1:30 PM works; they never stated anything otherwise…” Then the door opened, and Vanessa got nervous - because Shannon, nor any of the other four, for that matter, had not exited the room. “If we can see the final young lady?” a different raspy female voice asked. “Okay, looks like you’re up, Vanessa!” Connie said in a perky tone. “Good luck!” The anteater sighed, ready to go in and try to nail the interview in spite of her trepidation, not having a clue of what was to come. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Hey there, readers! This is... kinda awkward, but it happened again. A new idea for a cute story popped into my head and, well... here's the beginning of a new story! I hope that you enjoy it! Back to Basics (Part 1) by Panther Cub "Alright, Ma'am, I'm gunna need you to pull over into the inspection lane." The tuxedo cat looked down at the jackrabbit lady, the sunlight reflecting off his aviator sunglasses, his mouth a hard frown as he pointed at the lane he had just instructed her to drive towards. She looked up at him from inside her small brown car, a look of confusion on her face. "Please don't start with me this early in the morning," the tuxedo cat mumbled under his breath as she opened her mouth to speak. "Is this some kind of a joke?" The jackrabbit lady didn't even try to keep the giggle from her voice. Tristan hated the fact that he could feel his black and white cheeks starting to blush. From where he sat perched on his special work stool, Tristan bit back a growl and simply frowned deeper, making sure to speak authoritatively. He could feel the snow white feathers on his wings starting to fluff up a bit. "Ma'am, you need to pull over into the inspection lane right now. I won't ask a third time." His paw was already settled onto his radio. "Are you playing inspection officer, cutiepie?" She cooed up at him. The cat felt his blush deepen and his tail began to swish faster in his aggravation. The fact that he could hear a faint crinkling as it did so didn't help. "Charlie 54 Delta, code 11." The jackrabbit looked away from the kitten sitting in what was very clearly a highchair painted black to match his cute little uniform, to see several officers dressed similarly approaching. A large brown and white spotted female owl took up position in the booth right next to Tristan and looked the driver dead in the eyes with a hardness to her own steely gray ones. "Driver! Pull into the designated inspection lane now. This is your final warning!" Lieutenant Haelga was not one to mess around, and the jackrabbit lady immediately knew it. "Wait... am I in trouble?" "He, like every other inspection officer here, radios in a Code 11 when a driver is not complying and driving into the inspection lane after being instructed to do so. Failure to comply can lead to detainment in addition to the inspection of your vehicle as well as count as resisting arrest if you continue to fail to comply." "Now wait just one second... you mean that that... baby is actually working here?! That can't be legal!" Tristan rolled his eyes at that, feeling some satisfaction as the lady was then asked to step out of the vehicle by Officer Skyson. While a bit on the portly side, the vulture was still very intimidating when he wanted to be, like when the jackrabbit lady started to object to her being detained, until he gave her his patented glare. Another officer climbed into the car and drove it away from the booth and into the inspection lane. "Y'know, Tristan," Haelga said with a smirk as she looked down at the kitten, "it really impresses me how much you're able to not lose your cool when these drivers pull this crap." Tristan smiled, feeling his blush fade a bit as he sat up a little straighter in his work stool that was totally not a high chair at some point. "Thanks, boss!" "And remember to call in if you need a quick change." His ears splayed flat at that while his blush returned in full force. "Understood, Lieutenant..." "Oh! And one more thing!" Haelga turned just as she was about to shimmy out of the booth, smiling down at her protege. "Yeah?" "I'm putting you in charge of helping to train the new gal when she starts next week." Tristan had sat in on the interview and gotten to ask a few questions. The new hire's name was Mia, and she was also a tuxedo cat, though she didn't have wings like he did. Also, she wasn't trapped in the body of a two-year-old. Well, to be fair it was more like the body of a one and three-quarter-year-old, but Tristan preferred to round up. He liked how she had been professional and not immediately fawned over him the moment she saw him, like so many applicants had already. That or just ignored him and his questions. He suspected that that was partly why he was selected to help with the interview process, to help weed out some of the less-professional ones. Overall, Mia's qualifications were just fine and she answered all of their questions professionally and succinctly. If he recalled correctly, she was twenty-eight, nine years younger than himself. "I won't let you down, Boss!" He said, resuming his duties as another car pulled in next to his booth. "Good morning sir." "... Is this some kind of a joke?" Tristan sighed and looked at the alpaca in the business suit just staring right at him with a slack-jawed expression. "Sir... I'm gunna need you to pull into the inspection lane up on the right here." * * * Tristan sighed as he watched the forested landscape pass by. Seeing the ever burbling creek going under the little bridge the car quickly passed over always made the kitten smile. But today he just wasn't feeling it. It wasn't a long drive home from work, but when you have to carpool because legally you can't drive anymore... and you have to sit in the back in a car seat, it can make the trip feel like it takes a bit longer than it should. "You line up a ride for next week?" Frank asked from the driver's seat. The gruff old bull looked at the winged kitten in the rearview mirror. "Yeah. I'll be carpooling with the new hire. She already agreed to it, and said that since she lives close by to where I live, it won't be an inconvenience to her." "Good..." Despite sharing a ride to and from work with one another for the last six months, Tristan still found talking with his older coworker to be very awkward. "Yeah... so this is really it then?" Tristan asked as they passed by into the town outskirts, a few houses dotting the now grassy and hilly landscape the forest gave way to. "Yup. Been looking forward to retirement for awhile now." Frank cracked a smile as he came to an intersection and took a left, driving past the bar and grill. The local grocery store flew past next, followed by the elementary school shortly after. Seeing the old school brought back some fond memories to the kitten. A few more turns later, and Frank was pulled up right in front of Tristan's house. It was a simple ranch-style layout. He winced as he took note, yet again, of how badly the old white house was in desperate need of a new paint job. The black and white kitten had to wait for the bull to get out and come around to the backseat door Tristan was looking out of. Opening said door and using his hoof fingers, Frank pressed the big red button in the center of the five point safety harness that was keeping Tristan safe and sound in his carseat. The diminutive feline hopped down and grabbed the bright blue and red child's backpack he used to carry around his lunch and other stuff for work inside, watching as the bull grunted and snorted in frustration, trying to get the carseat all disconnected from how it had been installed. Finally, it came free, and Frank carried it over to the front door, setting it down. He walked back to the car and shut the backseat door, ruffling Tristan's headfur as he did so. "It's been fun, kiddo. Good night." Tristan frowned and batted away at the hoof, giving Frank a sour look. "I'm not a kid... but thank you Frank for the help. Good night, and... goodbye, I guess." Frank smiled and got back inside his bright white car, driving off. The late afternoon light reflecting in the rearview mirror. Tristan walked towards the house, looking left and right, hoping none of his nosy neighbors would bug him today. He knew that they meant well, like old Mrs. Dorrington. "Last thing I need is for someone to call CPS over here again," he muttered under his breath as he fished out his keys from his pocket. He had to reach up a little to get the deadbolt, but after that and the doorknob, and a bit of a shove, he was inside. "Home sweet home." Tristan sighed as he grabbed his carseat and dragged it through the door, which he then shut and locked. Glad that it was the weekend, he undid his tie and unbuttoned his uniform shirt. They were casually tossed aside, along with his pants. Walking by the full-length hallway mirror, he saw a little black and white kitten with stark white wings, wearing a swollen white diaper with green trim. It was after he saw his reflection that Tristan realized he was waddling more. He let out another sigh as his waddling continued on into the bathroom. He looked at the pack of Snuggies and saw he was already halfway through it. He made a mental note to walk on down to the grocery store in the next couple of days to restock. Looking at the other changing supplies and the changing mat laid out on the tile, he briefly reflected on how, thanks to his new height, he had to move everything to a reachable surface, or even just put things on the ground. The exception to this would be his stool in the kitchen. Stripping off his used diaper and balling it up to toss into the awaiting trash pail, Tristan opened his shower door and stepped inside. Dinner that night was a can of Pasta-O's, heated up in the microwave, with a box of juice on the side. As Tristan parked his padded bottom, that may or may not have required some additional adjusting of the tapes in the mirror in the hallway after he had powdered and diapered himself once he had dried himself off; in the old armchair, having to climb up onto it, he carefully pulled the nearby tv tray closer. He tucked a paper towel into his shirt, and scooped out a spoonful. Grimacing at the bland tomato soupy flavor and the chewy and mushy pasta, he reflected on how good a steak, done at medium rare, or some burger patties cooked on his grill tasted. He then frowned and huffed, that having been the first reason a neighbor called CPS after his transformation. Sighing, he started flipping through channels, stopping on some kind of documentary about the new wave popularity of that old boy band Small to Big, rebranded after they got a similar change to Tristan. He let out a growl and quickly changed the channel. "Stupid Regressus Inc. and they're stupid rejuvenation formula... and stupid me for taking that crap." His ears splayed flat on his head as he remembered how excited he'd been when he'd found out that there was an actual legit drug out there that could reverse the aging process. Doing some research, he learned that people could pick their ideal ages and then age regularly again. Tristan had spent almost all of his twenties, his physical prime, taking care of his sick parents. He spotted a picture from back when he was around this age the first time, coincidentally wearing the exact same shirt he was now, being held by his Mom and Dad. She had been a tuxedo cat like himself. His father, being a bald eagle, was where he'd gotten his wings from. Though he suspected it was Mom's fur coloration that caused them to be white. He smiled at the happy family in the photo, trying not to think about how first his father had been the one to get the Big C... and then his mother. They had both insisted that he finish school and get his degree, which he thankfully did. But after graduation, the roles had reversed, and he had started taking care of them. The few friends he had made in college all lived out of town, and he slowly lost touch with them... including Caroline. The sweet tigress had gotten her degree in marine biology and couldn't wait to get out on the ocean. They'd... no, he wasn't going to think about that, and he certainly wasn't going to cry about it. They had made their choices, and even though it had taken a decade when all was said and done, and left him practically penniless, at least before he managed to get a job at the checkpoint. But still, could he really be blamed for wanting to just reclaim that section of his life back? To get to actually be in his twenties? Looking down at the Snuggies with the happy diapered chibi baby lion smiling up at him, he felt that apparently some aspect of fate felt so. As it turned out, there was a small percentage of the population, about 7% overall, who were allergic to the Rejuvenation formula. Rather than get tested, Tristan figured the odds were in his favor. And for a month, it had seemed like they were. Minutes after taking the formula, which turned out to be a spray you inhaled, he had felt a tingling sensation spread out from his face to all over his body. After a few minutes, his clothes felt a little looser, and looking in the mirror, he saw a face he hadn't seen in too long. He'd tried going out to some clubs in the city, which had been... ok, at least in his book. He'd gone down to the coast to try wind-surfing, which had been pretty fun, but wasn't really his thing. He'd tried taking up a bunch of different hobbies, ranging from woodworking to beekeeping, but, aside from a slight pain in his back now being gone, he more or less felt the same. Still, though, he was younger and now had more time to think about what he wanted to do with his life. Then came the morning he'd woken up after having a terrible dream. It was something about being in a neverending daycare, but it was all dusty and covered in cobwebs and empty. The more he'd walked through it, the more he felt a tingling in his whole body, just like when he took the formula. When he awoke, he learned two things. The first, was that he'd shrunk to the size of a toddler, which was right around when he tried getting out of bed and fell on the floor. He bumped his head in doing so, and couldn't stop crying for a good few minutes. The second thing he had learned shortly after was that he seemed to have lost his potty training. That made him bawl outright. It had taken some time, some doctor visits, some proving he knew who he was, knew what year it was, and that he was still mentally an adult, and some thinking on his superiors' superiors part before he'd been allowed to continue working. It was after the first couple of months after his change, when he noticed something odd when he would measure himself with an old yardstick he had found. Not only was he not gaining any new height, he seemed to be shrinking still. Terrified that this meant he'd be transformed into a newborn or something, he had gone to his doctor. After another round of tests, it was determined that while Tristan was shrinking, that was simply because the formula was only finally almost finished. Physically, he'd been hoping to be around the age of three. Instead, his doctor placed him as being just under two. Tristan finished off his Pasta-O's and drank his juice, grape, his favorite, and continued watching TV until he started getting sleepy. He huffed when he saw that it was only 7:37, but knew that his much smaller body would just be getting more tired. He switched off the tv, grabbed his bowl and juice box, and hopped down to the floor. Walking into his kitchen, he used the stool to put the dishes in the sink and run a little water in them. He put his juice box and paper towel into the trash, huffing in frustration when he saw that there were some red splotches on it. Feeling around his mouth and chin confirmed that he'd dribble... again, and so wet another paper towl to clean around his mouth and chin. He then brushed his teeth, checked to make sure all the doors and windows were locked, checked his diaper to find it only a little damp, and then made his way into his bedroom. There, his mattress lay right on the floor, sheets and blankets strewn about on it. Falling out and bumping his head had become a bit of a problem, and this had been his solution. Climbing in, he curled up under the blankets, remembering how his Dad had loved to read him stories when he was this little for bedtime, and how Mom always tucked him in. He let out a little whimper as he listened to his silent and empty house, and started to drift off to sleep. The next day... "Let's see... I'm feeling like... OH! Your Mom's orange chicken recipe!" Mia purred while pushing the cart through the aisles while talking on her phone. The panthress would stop and grab something off the bright yellow list her wife had written. She rounded the corner, and stopped. She spotted a cute little kitten with dark black fur like her own, with a splash of white on his muzzle and chin that matched the color of his wings. He was wearing a pair of denim shortalls over a red shirt. She wondered where his parents were, looking around to spot who might be accompanying the little boy. Then she saw him start climbing the shelves, clearly going for the Cocoa Bombs at the top. "Woah there!" She said, walking up and plucking him off the shelves, turning him around to face her. "That was too dangerous, little guy! You could have fallen and gotten hurt." She said this in a gentle yet firm voice, seeing his ears droop and a blush form on his cheeks. "Mia?" He squeaked out in embarrassment. It was right then that the panthress realized where she recognized this specific kitten from and set him right down. "M-Mr. Granna?" Now it was Mia's turn to blush, practically matching his own, despite her dark fur. "I am so sorry! I didn't know that it was you!" Tristan held up a paw. "It's alright, it was an honest mistake. And please, call me Tristan." Internally he cringed at how her light scolding had made him feel ashamed for what he'd been caught doing. "And... maybe it was a bit... ill advised of me to try and scale the shelves there. I guess I could have gotten an employee to help me get down the Cocoa Bombs." Mia had to choke back a coo at how adorable Tristan was when she first met him in the interview. She had heard of some people having an allergic reaction to the Rejuvenation formula, and thankfully his condition had been explained right before she had entered the room the interview was conducted in, but still. He was a little kitten with wings. She just wanted to pick him up and cuddle him nonstop right then and there! And now, here he was, looking guilty and chastened and just served to enhance his natural adorableness. "Well, since I'm already right here," Mia said, easily grabbing the box of cereal with the chocolate bat advertising the chocolate balls filled with marshmallow goodness. She handed it to him and her heart practically melted at the look of excitement on his face as he took it from her, practically hugging the box before he set it in a nearby shopping basket. Looking inside, she could see several cans of Pasta-O's, some packages of juice boxes,a jar of extra chunky peanut butter, and a loaf of bread. Thanking her for her help, Tristan started to push the basket down the aisle, leading Mia to suspect that he couldn't carry it. "Wait, Tristan!" She walked over to him, smiling as he looked up at her with those big blue eyes of his. She reigned herself back in, remembering that he had the mind of an adult, just in a toddler's body. "Yeah?" "That... looks like a lot for you to try and carry, and pushing it around seems like it'll take forever." "Okay? It's not like I've got much choice. I can't push a cart around." Tristan began to suspect what Mia was getting at. "How about I help? We can put your things on the left side of the cart, and I can grab anything else off the high shelves for you?" Mia was worried that maybe she'd overstepped. Tristan mulled it over for a bit. "Well... okay, I guess that could work... but I am NOT riding around in the baby seat!" He crossed his arms at that, trying to look stern. Mia again almost cooed at the kitten before her. "Deal!" She then bent down and grabbed his basket, gently putting his items on the left inside her own cart, and scooting a few things over to the right. Walking side by side, they continued shopping, with Mia getting looks at the items on Tristan's list. She couldn't help but notice that a lot of his food seemed to be meals already made or in cans. "Oh my goodness," an elderly female coyote said with a happy smile. "Your little one is just so sweet and well-behaved! You must be so proud!" Tristan had to fight the urge to correct this lady and inform her that he is indeed an adult, just one that was regressed, and most certainly not Mia's child. "Uh... thank you so much!" Mia was polite and blushed a little, looking down at Tristan and shooting him a pleading look. He just sighed and waved his paw dismissively. When the old lady was out of earshot did they resume speaking. "Sorry about that, Tristan." "It's okay... better than someone picking me up and carrying me to the manager to report a lost child... again..." "Do things like that happen often?" Tristan blushed. "Yeah... I mean, I know that they mean well, but it really stinks regardless." They rounded a corner, and Tristan's blush deepened. It was the baby care aisle. At first, Mia didn't get why he looked so embarrassed, until; it clicked for her just where in the store they were. "O-oh! We can just go around another aisle..." "Can't... I... kinda need to get some things here." Tristan kept his voice even as he walked past a row of bibs and a row of pacifiers. Mia followed behind, watching the kitten slow down in the diaper section. He looked through all the different packages before grabbing a big red Snuggies pack. His cheeks now almost crimson, he avoided looking at the larger feline, and set it on the little shelf under the cart. This was followed by a tub of wipes and a canister of baby powder. "Okay, I'm done here," he said, starting to walk off. Mia followed behind. just wanting to pick him up and hug him and let the downtrodden kitten know that everything was going to be okay. As they walked to the register area, Mia felt a need to cut through the sudden tension. "Y'know, I love cooking. Maybe Sally and I can have you over some time for a nice home cooked meal." "Uh... that sounds nice," Tristan said, trying to sound polite. They reach the checkout in silence, apart from another nice older lady, this one a mouse, again complimenting Mia for how well-behaved Tristan was. Mia started setting Tristan's items onto the belt first, followed by her own. Despite knowing better, Mia felt guilty about letting Tristan pay for his groceries. She smiled as the teenaged border collie smiled and handed him the bags, until he started to struggle, and then took the heavier things and set them back in Mia's cart. Tristan wanted to object, but elected not to, blushing in silence instead. With Mia's items paid for and bagged, the two exited the store. "Did you get a ride over here?" Mia asked, looking at Tristan expectantly. "Oh... uh... no. Fuber doesn't have many drivers out here, and only one of them has a carseat." Tristan began to rub the back of his head, something Mia was beginning to guess was a tell for when he was feeling a bit uncomfortable. "Wait... you walked all the way here?" Mia asked, suddenly terrified at the thought of the little kitten all by himself, where anything could happen. "How are you gunna carry all your groceries home?" "I brought something to help." Tristan pointed over to one of the decorative trees in front of the store. There, secured with a bike chain, was a little red wagon with a handle. "Tristan, please can I just drive you and your groceries home? It'll be much faster." Mia offered, hoping he would say yes. "That's real nice, Mia... but the law says that I have to ride in a car seat, and we haven't installed mine yet..." The panthress perked up at that. "Oh! But I have one installed already! Me and Sally watch our niece all the time!" The panthress' smile was so bright that Tristan couldn't bring himself to say something that might make it fade. "Uh... w-well, I guess if it isn't an inconvenience..." "Great!" Mia waited for Tristan to unlock and grab his wagon before the two walked in the direction of a powder blue minivan. Unlocking it, Mia slid the door open to reveal a bright pink car seat that Tristan rolled his eyes at. "She loves that unicorn princess cartoon!" Mia chuckled. She smiled as she picked Tristan up under his arms and gently set him in the soft cushiony seat. She hummed while securing the five point harness and gave a test tug, making sure that Tristan was nice and secure. This was followed by Mia going to the trunk and loading up the groceries and Tristan's little wagon before putting the cart in the cart corral, and then getting into the driver's seat. "Okay, Tristan, ready to give me directions?" Mia's voice took on a slightly cutesy tone that Tristan chose to ignore. "Yup." With the engine fired up and Mia pulling out, Tristan started directing her to his home. Mia looked at the ranch-style house and frowned a little. She saw that the paint was peeling and cracked, and the front yard's lawn looked very shaggy. Helping Tristan out and grabbing his groceries and wagon, she followed the kitten up to the front door, which he had to shove after unlocking it. The first thing she noticed after being invited inside was how the light socket in the ceiling just inside the door was missing a bulb. She spotted his uniform clothes strewn on the floor, and could see some dust had started to build up on some surfaces. "Uhm... I know that the place is a little bit of a mess..." "Your house is lovely," Mia said with a cheerful smile. She grabbed some bags and walked down the hall, looking into the first open door on her right. She looked inside the bathroom and instantly spotted the changing mat and supplies on the floor. Her heart started to hurt at the realization that Tristan was truly living alone. "Do you... have any family?" "No..." Tristan didn't mean for it to sound curt, but he walked past Mia with some grocery bags in his paws. He headed towards the kitchen, and Mia spotted the open door to his bedroom, seeing the mattress on the floor. Mia helped Tristan to put away the groceries, letting him take his diapers into the bathroom himself. Sighing, Mia smiled at him when he came right back out. "You know, I'm planning on making some homemade orange chicken for me and Sally tonight..." She noticed how Tristan's ears perked up at that, but he frowned and shook his head. "Thanks, but I've got dinner planned for tonight..." "Maybe I could bring some over later?" Mia offered, looking down at him hopefully. Tristan felt conflicted, but the idea of orange chicken sounded so good. It had been so long. "Well... okay... if you really don't mind." "It'll be my pleasure!" Mia felt her heart warm knowing that the kitten she was looking at wasn't going to be eating only Pasta-O's tonight. With a goodbye, and double-checking that he was okay by himself, Mia left, closing the door behind her. On her way to the car she immediately dialed up her wife. "Sally, hun? I just ran into my new coworker, the one who's gunna train me." "That nice older badger?" Sally's voice asked. "No, the little cutie!" "OH! The little kitten with the mind of an adult?" "Yes! The poor little guy lives all alone!" "Wait... no one's helping him take care of himself?!" Mia heard Sally let out an involuntary squawk. "Yeah! And he seems to mostly eat canned food! I promised him that I'd bring over some of our orange chicken tonight!" "Oh the poor little guy!" "I think he might need a little help..." And there it is folks, the first part of a new story! Let's see where it goes!

Well, here's my take on a Western babyfur story (one that @Horatio Husky did something similar with, except I'm doing mine differently): Desert Fountain! Now as a bit of content warning: there's a bit of body horror (in that some animals' body parts are used as trophies for a sadistic sheriff/judge and age regression to babyhood while still being aware), so yeah, that's a thing. But if you're curious enough to read a Western babyfur story as well as Horatio's wonderful work, welcome to this story! About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. But, anyway, the story: - Chapter One: Bloodblaze Town at Sunset - Locals to the region said that the westernmost town of Bloodblaze had the most beautiful sunsets in the whole of the West - and they would’ve been right, with crimson, scarlet, gold, harvest moon, burnt orange, and all of the prettiest colors on the warm color scheme dancing in the few clouds in that gorgeous sunset. Dakota, known to her friends as “Kota” and her enemies as “The Brazen Bitch of the West”, was gazing at that sunset, waiting for the time to strike at night…for the coyote was a notorious outlaw who had grown up around the region outside of that safe little town, made her living in the so-called “Outskirts”. The Outskirts. A fun little part of the part where the West ended in the midst of a complete desert, where literal monsters roamed, and no one other than outlaws, the Jiingo Tł’é’na’áí Gahe tribe (West Moon Dancers, for easy translation), and the most desperate or foolhardy animals made their living out there, considering how dangerous it was. Not that many of them (the West Moon Dancers, aside) survived more than one night at most without a shelter - and no, tents did not count. She whistled a small tune to herself to occupy her thoughts as she counted the minutes down on her brass pocket watch, all the way down to nightfall. No offense meant to the few townspeople (very few people actually stayed at Bloodblaze because there was nothing really…well, notable other than the sunsets, and Dakota felt that once you saw one sunset, you saw them all, and with the Outskirts as dangerous as they were to both people there and the town itself, you quickly wished for morning light after the sunset ended or you died. One of the two.), but she and her band needed food and water, and the damnable sheriff/judge was notoriously corrupt and not prone to sharing his food and water with anyone, least of all outlaws. He lived like a king with his own private army and left everyone else to suffer. The coyote would’ve gladly met with the town deputy, Washington, to make a deal. The cougar was a friendly enough sort, even to outlaws, so long as they behaved in the town and didn’t cause a ruckus, but the damned sheriff/judge’s laws, from what little she overheard whilst sneaking into the town on occasion (with a damned good disguise) were getting even more draconic, and everyone, Wash included, was too scared to complain. It wasn’t like any of those poor creatures had much of a choice; the sheriff/judge was known as a “hanging judge” for a reason. She curled her lip, her tail instinctively lashing from side to side while she thought about the poor bastards with their skulls, ribs, and hides decorating his office. She had been there once. Never again. Never, ever again. That koala was as monstrous as any of the monsters in the Outskirts, if not more, and she knew what was out there…even if she couldn’t put a proper name or face to any of those beings. That damned judge/sheriff/whatever was the reason she and her gang had been forced into the desperado lifestyle - and she refused to let the animals under her starve. Dakota’s loyal steed, a black Clydesdale colt named Bartolomeo, nickered a bit under her reins, and she stroked his neck. “Shh, it’s okay, boy,” she whispered from the bandana covering her mouth, her ears flicking from either side of her cowgirl hat, trying to calm her steed down. “Easy, Meo, easy.” The Clydesdale snorted a bit, maybe a bit of displeasure with the quickly dropping temperatures (which sent a chill racing down her fur that not even the patchcoat duster and thick clothes she always wore could prevent), but he quickly calmed under the coyote’s gentle strokes. She was alone for now, her turn to go on the twice-weekly supply run. She had to be alone; better for only one of the band to risk themselves on a supply run than more of the group getting caught, and one outlaw sneaking into town under the cover of night was more inconspicuous than the whole group of eleven. Night came, the sunset disappearing over the hills, plunging the entire town into sheer darkness that not even candlelight could penetrate. Dakota nudged Bartolomeo’s sides with her boots, and the Clydesdale trotted until he was in the town. Then she snuck in under the dark cover, trusting her Clydesdale colt to stay where he was. She could feel the sheer crushing pressure this town was under as she went to the warehouse. The door was locked, naturally, but her handy lockpick got her in with ease. The warehouse was bursting at the seams with supplies, as the coyote outlaw sifted through the food and water, having done this once every week (as she was the leader, she figured that she had to lead by example and do everything for her band of fellow outlaws and more) without fail. Dakota went outside to put the food and the water satchels on the packs of her steed. She should’ve noticed that there was a trap set for her. The private army of the sheriff/judge was quickly surrounding the coyote and her steed. She leapt on Bartolomeo, who was already moving, but someone pulled her off before she could get away with the horse, who was dashing off without her out of town, panicking out of instinct. She fought, bit, and scratched with all of her might, unable to get to her guns, her tail lashing from side to side, as she was pinned by the numerous army members, quickly trussed up with her front paws bound behind her, her legs and tail tied together, and a muzzle put on her mouth, so she couldn’t even scream out curses, still wriggling desperately to get out. Then the kangaroo head of the army - a sadist known as Nebraska, Neb for short - stepped on her neck, crushing any chance of her breathing, as he sneered in her ear, “Well, if it ain't the Brazen Bitch herself! I’ll get you to Kansas, and we’ll see what he wants to do with you, you fucking outlaw thief.” Dakota snarled, still trying to fight; dying quickly now - even if her skull, ribs, and hide ended up decorating the koala’s office - was better than whatever the bastard must’ve planned for her for being an outlaw stealing. “Stop squirming; you’re not gonna die,” Neb said cheerfully. “Not yet, at least. If it were me, I’d fucking blow your brains out here and now, but Kansas said he’s got plans for you stealing. Then he’s gonna kill your fucking merry gang of thieves.” Dakota whined behind the muzzle. She couldn’t have her band, her friends, die for her. She desperately tried to breathe; between the kangaroo putting his foot on her neck and the muzzle on her snout, it was getting hard to breathe. Then the head of the army lifted his foot off of her as he hefted her over his left shoulder as easily as one would heft a sack, carrying the coyote outlaw to the sheriff’s office. She hated that place; there were seemingly even more skulls, ribs, and hides than she remembered. The ribs had been made into windchimes that rattled in the breeze outside of the window, the hides decorated the floor, the skulls put on the wall as trophies. And in all of that, the koala slouched in his rocking chair, a friendly smile on his face. Dakota knew that that smile meant that someone was going to die painfully - namely her. He stood up on his short legs, waddling over to her to pinch her cheek until his claws drew blood. “Well, my dear outlaw, aren’t you a cutiepie?” he cooed as if he was talking to a baby. “I know you and your gang of outlaws have been stealing from me. I know how to draw them out; they consider you their friend, and I’ll use that to my advantage. But what am I going to do with you?” Dakota breathed through the muzzle in terror. Torture was almost certainly going to happen. Pain beyond imagining. Then she’d die, and all of her would just be another decoration in his office. “Well, don’t worry; your gang, I’ll make trophies out of, but you, my little outlaw…well, I have a surprise for you, personally. Neb!” The kangaroo saluted. “Take her to the underground fountain!” The coyote was confused. A fountain? What the hell was going on? “You sure about that, boss?” Neb asked tentatively. “Normally, you’re the only one who bathes there…” “And I will soon enough, but she’ll get the full dosage.” The koala was grinning widely, and somehow, it was a thousand times scarier than his smile. “Bring her there. I’ll dunk her in personally. Now put her to sleep.” “Yes, boss!” Nebraska set her on the hard floor of the office, stomped on her head, and she knew no more. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Well, I know I have some other works that I need to really get done, but this little idea popped into my head last night, and it wouldn't go away until I wrote a chapter for it. So, here's The Infant's Guide to Reaching Purgatory~ Some things to note before we get started: Firstly, the content warnings are very real. Pay attention to the tags before you jump in and read. If it's not for you, you are absolutely not obligated to read, and that's perfectly okay. Secondly, this is not meant as a religion-bashing story, and I will not make it one. I am not religious in the slightest myself (and some of the things that the characters say do not reflect my beliefs), but I respect all creeds. It's just that this story is set in hell, for the very most part. No, it's not a Hellaverse fic: just a babyfur story that happens to be set in a different sort of hell. Finally, it is a very short prologue, and I apologize for not being able to get back into the swing of things in my other stories. I just needed to write something down and post it. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Now, without further delay, let's get into this story: - Prologue - “What do you MEAN, ‘I’m going to Hell’?!” The female red wolf had all but screamed those words, lashing her tail to-and-fro, nude as the day she was born (to her utmost dismay as she continued to cover herself with her paws and tail as best as she could; the angels said that earthly clothes couldn’t be taken to the afterlife), standing on the clouds that made up the surface of whatever judgment chambers there were in Heaven. Fuck, even the walls and ceiling were covered in clouds. She was utterly incensed. How dare these fucking self-righteous hypocrites say she was damned?! What did they know about her life?! What did they know about her?! The swan-winged figure looked at her coldly. Gender and species were impossible to identify with the angel’s robes, the heavenly halo shining upon its masked face. “Violet Malencia Bailey,” the voice intoned, neither male nor female. “Please don’t make this as drawn out as it could be. You’ve been judged by your actions and sins, and-” “I WANNA KNOW WHY!” Violet snarled furiously. “Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. You know why. Your last actions literally spelled it out.” “Unless you think suicide is a sin all of a sudden?” the red wolf huffed, wishing she had something, anything, really, to cover her body. Even a towel would be nice… “I’d say brutally murdering your husband in cold blood gets-” “YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID TO ME, IF YOU’RE SO FUCKING ALL POWERFUL-” “Please do not interrupt me, and please do not curse. His actions were detestable. Yours are inexcusable, and you don’t even have the good grace to admit it.” “Bullshit! I did what any sane woman would’ve done to a fucking bastard like him!” “Please stop curs-” “Make me!” “Don’t - interrupt me - again.” “Make me! You’re not my parents!” “And thank the Lord Almighty I’m not. You’re acting like a petulant child.” “Fuck off, chickenwing! If you’re going to send me down to Hell anyway, when I don’t deserve it, you’re goddamned right I’m gonna chew your ass out!” The masked figure sighed and pulled out an odd circular object that Violet assumed was a phone of some kind (and it sucked that she couldn’t bring her phone with her to the afterlife. Seriously, the afterlife could go screw itself, at this point.). “We have a Code Sunshine, repeat, Code Sunshine,” the figure said in a bored tone. The red wolf was suddenly confused. “Sunshine?” she asked. “It means you’re getting what you’ve rightfully earned,” the angelic figure said, and Violet could practically hear the smug smile on their face that she knew they were hiding behind their mask. “It’s been a while since this code was used. You might want to give us some entertainment.” “Entertainment? The fuck are you talking about?! You sick fucks like to watch animals get tortured, don’t you?!” “You’ll see what happens. I bet you last a week before you’re begging for Lucifer’s deepest, darkest pits. Or three days before she has you right where she wants you.” “Huh?” Violet felt herself sinking through the clouds, and she howled in distress - she hated heights, hated them, hated them, hated them - before her entire body slipped through, and she began to freefall through the air, her spirit plummeting to earth as she continued screaming in terror, flailing for any purchase where there was none, her soul dropping like a stone. She saw the ground fly up to meet her, and she held her paws out to protect her face, awaiting the crash. Only she didn’t crash; the second Violet’s spirit hit the ground, she began to sink through the inky black, like she was going into water in the night. Her arms and legs were forced up to her chin, tail curled around her waist, as if she was a fetus again, her body compacting from the pressure. “OH?” a masculine voice rang out, sounding very amused. “So, you managed to anger an Archangel enough for them to request a Code Sunshine. Can I have your name?” “Who the fuck are you?” Violet snapped, her voice sounding oddly tiny for a fully-grown she-wolf. “Are you some demon who’s gonna try to torture me, asshole?” “Well, I can certainly see why they requested it.” The voice was still amused. “Let me see…what is your crime…oh, right here, they texted it to me. Heaven can be so kind in those cases…” “Who the fuck are you?!” the red wolf repeated furiously. “Ahem, Violet Valencia Bailey the red wolf, you brutally murdered your husband, Dirk Donald Stauss the Tapanuli orangutan, with a shotgun…multiple shots before he was finally killed-” “Shut up!” Violet snarled, baring her fangs, wishing for the millionth time that she wasn’t naked. The demon continued as if she had never spoken, “-then committed suicide after the murder-” “SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” Violet screamed into the inky blackness, her voice as loud and forceful as a puppy’s. "-aborted his potential children without his knowledge in the past, refusing them a life when you had other options-" "GOD DAMN YOU, GO SUCK YOUR FUCKING DICK!" “And you had arguments with him as well,” the voice finished with a thunderous ending in his tone, far more powerful than hers. “Do you deny any of this?” The red wolf was shaking, her fur bristling with rage. “Does anyone realize why I did this?! Do you even fucking CARE, you unfair piece of shit?!" “Fairness in Hell? Do not make me scoff. He is damned as well; there is your 'fairness'. The difference between this man and you is that he did not act childishly when confronted with his wrongdoings. He freely admitted his sins, boasted that he was proud of them, despite knowing very well they were wrong; he is facing his eternal punishment as we speak. Deep down, I think you do know you were not in the right either. What is the saying, ‘two wrongs do not make a right?’” “Shut up! You don’t know shit about me!” The voice sighed. “I cannot continue this conversation with someone so immature. I will leave you to the Grand Duchess, Astaroth. May this be the last time we meet.” “What?” Violet felt a burning charge go through her soul, trillions upon trillions of times both hotter and colder than she had ever felt in her twenty-five years of life on earth, unable to even scream out her pain in response - and after the charge lanced through every part of her that remained, her conscious thoughts slipped into darkness. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Hey there! I made a server for RP posts and personal ads. A server for ABDL / Diaperfur / Babyfur to post their rp requests and personal ads (r/ABDLPersonals). Rp requests and personal ads are forum based. This channel is mainly just for posting your RP plot or personal ad. A general channel does exist for chatting. I made this server to better see rp posts and personal ads. Servers like omoorg put everything in one text channel which makes it hard to search and chat with an RP post you find interesting. Subreddits like r/ABDLPersonals also do this. So I made this server to address those issues. Please join and share with anyone else that may find this server useful, especially if they use r/ABDLPersonals or omoorg (rp section). https://discord.gg/YnnvCz9t8P

Well, isn't this surprising: I came up with yet another new story. This story is actually quite wholesome compared to a lot of my other stories, a recent dream that came to life yesterday. This is babyfur; if you don't want to read it, you don't have to. I hope you will give it a chance, but I won't force you if it's not your cup of tea. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Anyway, let's start the show: - Chapter One: Alpha(bet) Bitch - Kezia Byles ruled Volkenburg/Lauttener University (commonly known as VLU), and she knew it. The sophomore raccoon dog was the captain of the cheerleading squad, a straight-A student majoring in psychology, with one class in her major left to go for her early degree. It was an easy class as well, Child and Family Development. So what if it lasted all year? So what if it was half of her grade? She was prepared for anything and everything. Her two friends, Robyn and Faith Thornton - fraternal twins: Robyn was a common genet and Faith, a Malayan civet - were right by her side, as close as a sister to the two…and since she was adopted by their parents, they pretty much were her sisters, and the only ones regularly spared from her bitchy side. The others weren’t as fortunate. Kezia was a clownish personality in class, and the teachers were annoyed by her antics…but they couldn’t doubt that she was smart, that her grades were straight A’s, that she knew the coursework better than anyone other than the teachers themselves. And the others, especially the other cheerleaders who weren’t Robyn and Faith? Fuck them; she would go to war against them to put them in their proper places. Especially the ones who were annoyed by her captaincy. Speaking of which, Kezia saw her two rivals for the captaincy as she headed for class. Erin Chinnock the gray wolf and Zoey Coates the clouded leopard. Now, normally, cheerleaders tended to have only one main rival and the rest were beneath notice, but Keira and Zoey were thick as thieves, two peas in a pod, impossible to mention one without the other. Plus they had both stolen a potential boyfriend from Kezia, and she was pissed and out for blood. “Hello, Kezzi,” Erin said, her snout coming close to the raccoon dog’s face. “I hear we’ve got a new teacher for this class, since Mrs. Williams retired.” “I know, Eri,” Kezia sneered, not backing down for a second. “A Miss Keira Hagan, by her roster name. Just try to not to copy my notes with your girlfriend; I don’t want to have to cover for you two in cheer practice.” “We don’t need to copy your notes,” Zoey growled, her whiskers twitching in annoyance. “Apparently, this is a year-long project. All hands on deck for everyone.” “Aww, you can read, Zo-Zo!” Kezia said mockingly. “I didn’t think you could.” “Kez, let’s just…go to class?” Robyn asked timidly. Genets and civets were really small compared to the size of the two rivals. Of course, raccoon dogs were around the same size, and Kezia was admittedly on the smaller side for one, loathe as she was to admit it. “Yeah, listen to your adopted sister,” Erin said. “Maybe-” “Say that again, and you’ll regret it!” Kezia snapped, as she was held back by Robyn and Faith. “Kez, just…ignore them,” the civet said calmly, directing the snarling raccoon dog away from them, and into the class. It was not like the other classrooms, having been larger. There were pastel pinks and blues everywhere decorating the room with surprising color. Artful cartoon designs were on the walls, a giant playpen in the corner with babyish toys and blankets and the carpet was surprisingly soft on her shoes. Looked more like a place where new mothers could put their babies than a college classroom. “Hello, señoras.” Two birds, a barn owl and a red-tailed hawk, had greeted them suavely and simultaneously, as they entered the room at the same time as the girls. Kezia merely rolled her eyes. Freshmen, by the look of it, thinking they were the biggest hot shit in high school and now in a bigger lake and floundering. “Are you trying to flirt?” Kezia asked coldly. “You’re not doing a very good job at it.” “We’re just trying to be nice, mis queridas,” the barn owl said despondently. “You’re the best parts of today, hermosas,” the red-tailed hawk echoed his friend, looking just as despondent. “You’re trying way too hard. My suggestion is that you just don’t try,” Kezia said in an even colder tone than before. Both of the freshmen looked hurt…but they didn’t argue as they went to their assigned seats, close by each other, right next to her adopted sisters in the back. Kezia noted the names next to her on her seat: she was right with her two rivals in the front of the class. Fuck that noise. She sat next to Robyn and Faith, waiting for the teacher to arrive. The boyfriends of her rivals arrived instead. Stan Spellmeyer, the star impala quarterback and Jason Deloatch, the star elk linebacker. Somehow, she had struck out and missed on both of them, with Erin and Zoey, respectively hanging on their arms. Zoey planted a kiss on Jason as she looked at Kezia with a smirk. The cheerleader captain merely flipped her a middle claw, growling to herself. She’d get Zoey back at practice for this, she swore. The rest of the students in the class - seventeen in total, including herself - piled in, and Kezia wondered where the teacher was, what she was like, and how best she could mess with her. Each teacher was different. Some could take a lot of abuse, while others were more sensitive. Now, Kezia wasn’t cruel; the latter, she’d just lightly tease, while with the former, she’d use first names, cause distractions. It was an artform, to see how best to play her mischievous game, and it was one she had perfected, starting from elementary school on. “Why does it look like a daycare?” Robyn asked. “Yeah, that playpen looks like it could even fit Zoey or Erin,” Faith muttered to herself. “I hope it does fit Zoey and Erin; I could use a laugh,” Kezia said loudly enough for the two rivals to hear. They merely glared at her, but she puffed her fur out with pride. “Hellooo, my students!” a new giggling voice came in. A surprisingly young (if Kezia had to guess, she was a recent graduate of some teaching college at around twenty-nine) female hyena had come in, smartly dressed in a white blouse, knee-length black skirt, and flats. There was a kind, yet playful smile on her face, and Kezia could tell from her scent that the hyena probably had a recent baby or something because she was clearly lactating. But what surprised Kezia the most was the female raven in a little black dress and heels, her shining black feathers immaculately groomed. The Dean herself, Renee Stroughter, had come to this class. “Hey, Keira, Renee,” Kezia said with a smirk. The raven looked annoyed, but the hyena had a huge grin on her face as she said, “Oh, good morning, Miss Kezia Byles. You’re in the wrong assigned seat, but I can let it slide for today. Tomorrow, though, I expect you to follow directions on where you need to sit.” “I’ll sit where I fit, Keira,” the raccoon dog replied. “And I think I fit right here with my sisters, thank you very much.” “Goodness, you did tell me about that, Dean,” Ms. Hagan said, the playful smile - not a smirk, but an actual smile - still on her face as she giggled at the stoic raven. “Don’t worry; you’ll have plenty of time to spend with them; you do live in the same dorm, right?” Kezia froze. How did she know that? “Dearie, I do research on all of my students,” the hyena said with a giggle before a serious smile crossed her face. “Now, let’s get straight to the point before introductions: I need a single volunteer that wants to, ah, play a role the whole year without exception for other classes, extracurricular activities and home life for families, hence why there was a waiver sent to your parents to sign before taking this class. This volunteer will be the focal point of our class, Child and Family Development. It focuses on raising a child that’s at the most important stage of growth, and how a healthy community can positively impact a child’s psychological health. Of course, this volunteer gets to do less homework than the rest of the class, gets full credits, and is reimbursed monetarily for the year…” Kezia raised her right paw before anyone else did. “Wait, did you say less homework with full credits?” she asked. “What about the tests-” “Oh, so you’re volunteering, Miss Byles!” Ms. Hagan said cheerfully. “Wonderful! We have ourselves a real go-getter, asking the questions, although given that you’re a cheerleader and top-notch student, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” “Indeed. I think you volunteering for this is fitting,” Dean Stroughter said bluntly. What scared Kezia the most was that the dean had the faintest hint of a smile on her face - and the raven never smiled. The sophomore blushed. “But the tests at the end of the semesters-” “Oh, don’t worry your little head about the tests. This is a two semester-long project in the fall and spring. The tests will, if you haven’t read the coursework, will be at the end of each semester, except for you, Miss Byles; you get one single tiny test at the end of this time next year. But most importantly, I expect everyone to have fun with it! After all, studying can be fun as well, and if you’re forming a family, well, having fun with your child is important as well and is important to develop a healthy, happy baby.” “Baby?” The raccoon dog was completely confused. “I don’t understand…” “And you don’t have to, Miss Byles; you’re the one who volunteered to be our little focal point, and I talked with Mrs. Stroughter to prepare for this throughout every class you’re taking. Now, I need two more volunteers…” Erin and Zoey raised their paws at the same time as Faith and Robyn; the other students had been hesitant. Of course, since most of the students were athletes, it wasn’t much of a surprise that they'd want to do the least amount of work possible. “Wonderful, four volunteers! Of course, I can only choose two for the roles, but babysitting is also an important part of any parent’s duties. Let’s do a game of rock/paper/scissors to decide! I always find that having fun, whether it’s in a family or even a classroom setting, is important.” As her sisters began to compete with her rivals, Kezia was confused as hell. What the fuck was going on? Roles? Volunteering for what exactly? What had she gotten herself into? None of this was even on the fine print of this class - and she had read it up and down. This was a surprise; it had to be, considering that the Dean herself was in this class at the beginning. But less homework? Only one test at the end of the year instead of cramming sleepless nights in? With full credits even with the lack of homework? Monetary payment? And all this for half of her grade and one step closer to her dream of becoming a psychiatrist? How could she turn it down? Shit, this might be the easiest class I’ve taken the whole time I've been here. “OH, looks like Miss Chinnock and Miss Coates won the game!” Ms. Hagan’s voice exclaimed giddily. “This works perfectly; they’re right by the front so they can watch their little one, Kezia-” What. What? What?! WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK?! The enormity of everything that she volunteered for hit Kezia like a hydrogen bomb. That’s why she couldn’t back out once she did the volunteer role. That’s why there was only one volunteer. That’s why two other volunteers were needed. That’s what the whole fucking “roles” were about! Erin and Zoey were taking the roles of the parents. And she was taking the role of the baby. For the whole year. No exceptions, even in her other classes, even in cheerleading, even in her dorm, even when she went home for the holidays! Her adoptive parents had to be okay with it, if they signed a waiver knowing this could happen. The dean was perfectly fine with it, probably even happy about it! And worst of all, she couldn’t back out at this point! Fuuu- - Hope y'all enjoyed~

I'm in utah near layton/kaysville! i'd love to meet some other babies to have playdates with!!! i have a UTA bus pass so i can go places as well but i have no car hehe

To explain first and foremost, this isn't my world; you can thank the creative and talented @Panther Cub for this idea that we (and by we, I mean mostly him) hashed out recently, and this story is me trying to combine two RP elements that he came up with. He could probably make a story that best fits both; it was his awesome idea after all, but the crux of it is this: a world where a deity (unknown as of yet) gifts children caregiver powers over certain adults in their lives for amusement, with real-world Avatars (this one being an immortal Greco-Roman woman who has all of the signs of recent birth) delegating powers to children for their patron deity's amusement and sometimes interfering directly when indirect means won't work. The immortal mother "reenergizes" her powers via the emotions gathered at places called "Bright New Beginnings": abandoned daycares all across the English-speaking world with the ghosts of caretakers that lure in young people to regress. This combines them both, and I will apologize to Panther in advance if it's not quite right. As this is babyfur, if you don't feel like reading, you don't have to. This is a lot softer than most of my other works as well, so feel free to read or not read based on that. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Anyway, let's get to the story, shall we? - Chapter One - It was a typical weekday spring morning in the suburbs of Newaardvark, New Jersey, a heavy rain pouring from the sky, as the animals stayed inside for the most part. There was only one exception: a young woman who sat on a bench under a bus stop station, unmoving, her eyes closed as if in thought. To describe her depended on the creature in question, for she took the shape of whomever was staring at her, a beautiful eighteen-year-old female of the beholder's specie in a long, sleeveless white dress, almost Greco-Roman in design, her breasts enormous, lactating, and protruding through her nursing bra like twin towers. Her shoes were white stilettos that covered her feet entirely, covered in mysterious symbols. She shouldered a plain, yet large diaper bag as easily as one would carry a blanket. Overall, she looked like a recent teen mom dressed for a Greek reenactment party. She was on the hunt, not even needing to look as she sensed her targets: a young bird couple in their late twenties and their adopted daughters below the age of ten. She preferred to use children as conduits through her strength, mostly playing through their mischief, willingness to be troublemakers towards authority, or, in too many sad cases, victims of abuse or neglect. Not these children: they were well-behaved young girls, treated with the utmost kindness and love by both hard working parents. She would have to work directly. Iuvenis Mater did not know if that was one of her favorite things to do, but it would make the game with her patron deity more…interesting. That was what their deity cared about, in the end: the Hunt to turn normal adults into little babies, albeit temporarily, for amusement. And there was definitely cause for amusement when it came to both of the parents. Erik Hellstrom was a handsome golden pheasant, twenty-eight, a skilled engineer who worked from home to support his daughters. Oh, she’d have fun with him, especially with his hidden…issues when it came to family. And then there was Gaiana Hellstrom, his wife. Twenty-seven, quite a stunningly beautiful blue-and-yellow macaw, working long shifts as a firefighter, but embarrassed by her past when she was a child. Another extremely fun target that she could work with. Their adopted daughters were the key in the door: Gaiana was planning on having a celebration party at the fire station alongside her peers with Erik joining her, and the girls needed a babysitter. Well, more than just the girls would need a babysitter after today. It had been a simple matter, even with the oddities of the modern age. This “Internet”, in particular, had been a long time spent learning for Iuvenis, but now that she knew, she was capable when it came to the worldwide Web. Quite frankly, it might’ve been even easier searching for targets via the Internet than it was in the olden days. A simple matter of the other typical babysitters gaining new things to do or new places to go all of a sudden, a bit of reality warping to make her seem like she was the only other babysitter available in the area, things like that were simple, including two typical babysitters who seemed…interesting in their own right. The Hunt, on the other paw? Not as much. Her patron deity needed to be entertained, not just for these temporary three days, but for a lifetime, to make it amusing to watch. One never knew how a Hunt would end, merely how it began - and the Avatar of her deity would make sure that they had plenty of amusement with this one. And so this Hunt began as she got up from the bus station and walked over to their house. - Erik preened himself in the mirror, looking at his appearance. The people at the fire station didn’t really care for appearance, true, but he always tried to dress to impress, like his uncle taught him: a full-sleeved white polo shirt, black slacks, black dress shoes, his father’s silver watch on his left wing, his mother’s handkerchief in the dress pocket of his shirt, a polished pair of glasses perched on his beak. He fluttered over to his wife, dressed extremely casually with a simple white T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, and her own horn-rimmed glasses on her beak, giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Hey, honey,” Erik crooned in a pleasant song, as he gently wrapped his wings around her. “Hey, baby,” Gaiana whispered back with a grin, returning the kiss. “The girls prepared for their babysitter?” “I’ve let them know that there’s a new babysitter,” the pheasant said, his feathers fluffed up in pride. “They’ve taken it surprisingly well. It’s a shame that the Boggs sisters are going through college applications; they were the best of babysitters…” “Well, that’s life, honey; we all grow up,” the female macaw answered. “We grow old, not necessarily up.” “And both are technically true.” “Two different words.” “Ah, semantics.” The two birds kissed again, their love for one another showing through the slight teasing, before they fluttered down the stairs, looking for their girls, who were likely playing Aliemon Orange and Purple on their GameMales, judging by the sounds of the arguing. The games were two of the most kid-friendly ones they could buy for them with the limited money they made on Christmas. “OH, come on, Tali; you know that the mind type beats everything! Play as something else!” “It’s not my fault that Avadakazam is cute as heck, as well as powerful!” “It’s not! It’s literally a green orc with a big head and huge beard, and you had to trade with me to get it!” “Excuse me, Avadakazam is my favorite Aliemon, and I will brook no argu-” “Goostoise is the cutest!” “Avadakazam!” “Goostoise!” “Avadakazam!” “Goostoise!” “Girls, girls, both Avadakazam and Goostoise are equally cute,” Erik said, defusing the argument by hugging the two young girl birds, a brown pelican and a scaled quail. “Whatever, Goostoise is still cuter,” the younger quail, Zita, grumbled. “Avadakazam,” the brown pelican, Talita - known to all as “Tali” - said with a smirk, to which Zita responded with her tongue sticking out. Gaiana gave them both a stern look, but it belied the smile on her face. “Are you two going to behave for the new babysitter?” “Yes, Mom!” the two girls chorused. “You’ll do your homework and everything?” Erik asked gently; he didn’t have it in him to be stern. “Of course, Dad!” they chorused again. The doorbell rang, and Erik got it while Gaiana talked to the girls further, seeing an eighteen-year-old golden pheasant in a long, sleeveless white dress smiling at him, a diaper bag hefted over her shoulders. Her breasts were enormous, and demanded attention, but the analytical pheasant merely noted them as being slightly larger for what seemed like a teenage mom; he took his marriage vows very seriously, more seriously than a lot of men. “Hello, Mr. Hellstrom,” she said politely, holding out a feathered wing for him to shake. “Good morning, Miss, um…what’s your name again, ma’am?” he asked, shaking her wing. She smiled mischievously. “I’m Miss Ivi Mater. You can call me ‘Mater’, though, little Eri.” “Huh…okay…Ivi…” The pheasant felt himself grow smaller in her presence, a wet spot quickly growing around his slacks, as he began to unconsciously drool. “Oh, dear, looks like we’ll need to go to this earlier than I expected,” Ivi said cheerfully, getting out a white fluffy…thing from her bag. The word was escaping Erik’s quickly diminishing vocabulary, but it seemed oddly…familiar in a way. He felt his shirt, his shoes, his drenched boxers and slacks being taken off him by the girl, and even though his mind was inwardly screaming for his wife to intervene, he continued to lay on the floor in a docile manner. And then he saw her go through her bag, sprinkling powder over his nether parts, raising his bottom, and slipping the thing under him, taping up both sides, threading his tail feathers through the back, with the odd teenager moving him as if he had been much smaller than her. The pheasant’s mind was still there, and a part of him was telling himself that something was very, very wrong, but he couldn’t imagine what it could possibly be. Then his wife’s voice echoed. “Oh, Eri? Where did my baby Eri go?” “Here, my dear!” he sang, only for dread to grow when his wife’s frame entered the scene. “Oh, Eri, you little stinkypants, you know you’re not allowed to sneak out of your playpen,” Gaiana said, nuzzling the pheasant, acting like he was much smaller than her. He froze. He was a lot bigger than his wife. For her to think he towered over him meant… No, this can’t be right. Think logically, Erik, these things don’t happen in real life. “You’ve already got a fresh diaper on him! You came prepared for my little baby boy!” Gaiana cooed, handing him back to the pheasant woman, the… “He is certainly going to grow up to be handsome, will he not?” Ivi said with a knowing smile, and he began to fuss. “Oh, he misses his Mommy already.” The female pheasant came close, allowing Gaiana to cuddle with him. “It’s going to be okay, Eri. Mommy’s just got to go for a short bit.” He froze. Those words. A short bit. That was what his parents had said. That’s when- He began to bawl, thinking of the worst night of his life. No, no, no, no, no! Please, God, please, don’t let her leave! Not now! I need her, I need Mommy! Then he saw his daughters, rubbing his feathered head, and singing nursery rhymes to him to calm him down, and he realized the horrible truth. Everyone thinks I’m a baby! My daughters think I’m their baby brother! Oh, God, why?! Erik desperately tried to convince his wife that she was still his wife. He tried to speak to his daughters, tried to get out any code he could. They just cooed at him, as if he was an infant. “Oh, he’s trying to talk!” Zita said excitedly. “Say ‘Sissy’!” “Oh, honey, it might be a bit early for that,” Gaiana said to the disappointed quail. “He’ll be old enough for talkies and flighties soon, but he’s still too young for that at the moment.” Erik then saw the watch - his father’s watch wrapped in his mother's handkerchief - in the older female pheasant’s wing, and he attempted to grab at it with his feathers. “No, you’re a little too young for that; we don’t want you putting this in your mouth and swallowing,” the female pheasant cooed, putting the watch and handkerchief out of his reach and into the diaper bag as he whimpered. “Here! I have something better for you!” She brought out a light gold pacifier, teasing him with the tip, until he instinctively grabbed at it with his feathers and began to suckle on it, his inner adult feeling horrified dread at how easily it soothed his terrified thoughts, but the baby that dominated the main part of his brain reacting as if it was as natural as breathing. “Good job, Eri!” Gaiana cooed at the confused bird. “Now I really do have to go, but I’ll be back before you know it!” All the pheasant could do was suck on his pacifier, feeling a trickle of liquid warmth flow through the front of his (surprisingly comfy) diaper, his mind feeling horror that his body didn’t feel, before his wife - the last bastion of hope of stopping this intruder from potentially hurting his daughters - left out the door, entered the car, and drove away. - Hope you enjoyed~

Well, this is a different sort of story. I had the idea of combining a babyfur story...with the Golden Age of Piracy. Weird idea, but I've researched a bit, figured out how things worked, and it just...took hold. It's a lot less mature than most of my stories, actually (surprising for me), buuut I maaay include some things that are a lot more AB and regression themed than I normally do (which is normally a lot). Also, there will be a bit earthier stuff, like a brothel and tavern wenches (as was in the times. Don't worry, no sexual themes aside from...motherhood themes.), so consider that the warning. I'm also admittedly not sure where the story's middle and climax are, but I have an idea about the end; I just don't know where it'll go before then. EDIT: About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Okay, here's the first chapter: - Chapter One: Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls - The ocean in 1595 was a treacherous place, especially when one didn’t know what they were doing, and even more so when it was an area rife with danger already; the broken ships, names long since lost to the pounding waves, howling winds, and sea spray proved that without a shadow of a doubt. Fortunately for Florence Goodluck, the feared - at least, she hoped she was - black-furred fox captain of the seven seas, she and her small crew knew exactly what they were doing...or so they hoped. She wore few fripperies; while she and her crew were regarded as pirates, welcomed at Tortuga by fellow pirates, they weren’t a very wealthy or successful crew, having gotten few prizes over the time they were active. She and her crew wore simple, short, homespun dresses, ragged and torn from years on the sea. “Tack to port!” she called out in a high soprano, as she took the lookout point, seeing her crew of big cats maneuver the Catastrophe (her idea to let the crew, having known her lifelong friends since they all lived on the docks of Dover, England as orphans, know how much she appreciated them, especially since they unanimously voted her captain.) with Emma Everard, the stoic snow leopardess helmscat at her customary spot at the wheel. Not that the fox minded the lookout and rigging jobs; she never ordered her crew to do anything that she wouldn’t do, and she knew that Emma was better at the wheel than she could ever be. “Move port, bring the riggings up!” Grace Wythinghall, the powerful pantheress roared out, as was her right as quartermistress, helping the crew move away from the bow of a half-sunken ship, the stench of rotting wood in the air as a cold, heavy mist began to roll in. Florence sniffed the air, with most everything, even the familiar sea spray scents, fading into the furling mists. She realized that it could be a quest that ended all of their lives. No pirate had ever gotten this treasure, mostly because of silly and stupid superstitions that the older folk believed in. But she truly believed that she and her crew would be the first, and it would propel them to fame, glory…and mostly peace. Maybe because we’re the most desperate, that we have absolutely nothing to lose, she thought to herself. They were all veterans of the seas for a decade, and yet none of them were over the age of twenty-three, having lived hard lives as pirates, spending almost all of that decade in the bosom of their small frigate, rocked to sleep by the waves, avoiding privateers (those damned hypocrites, no better than they were…only with a letter of marque by the kings and queens of countries allowing them to prey on those weaker than them), fellow pirates, and legitimate navy ships that could’ve sunk them and sent them straight to Davy Jones. All Florence wanted was to retire. She was tired of the sea, tired of the dangers, tired of starving, and she wanted to put down roots somewhere on an island where the most she’d see of the ocean was occasional fishing, with more money than she knew how to spend. “Florence, I can’t see anything in this mist!” Agnes Coulthurst cried out, the cougaress’s tail lashing in annoyance, bringing her back to the moment. “Hold steady!” the black fox called. “Are you absolutely sure, Flory?” Denise Parkham called out; the lynx boatswain's voice tinged with terror. This was not a natural mist; the conditions for mist weren’t there; hell, it was far too cold for the normal spring weather of the Caribbean, and frost began to creep on the sails. “Do NOT call me ‘Flory’!” Florence snapped. “Hold steady unless I say!” A cheetah was scratching her claws on the ship deck, whimpering, “We’re going to crash into one of those ships-” “AVIS, WE ARE NOT GOING TO CRASH! TRUST ME!” the black fox shouted. “That goes for everyone! We are going to make it through! Have I ever led you wrong before?! Hold - damn - steady!” “You heard the captain!” Grace roared; the fox had to admit that the vocal cords of the quartermistress was a much louder sound that almost seemed to cut through the mist. “Hold steady until she says!” All eleven animals held their breaths, as if the very act of breathing would cause the water to hear and consume them. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword. Then Millicent Huchenson and Winifred Daundelyon, a serval and caracal as close as twin sisters (even though they weren’t actual sisters like the Rowes) heard a faint roar coming in front of them, their especially keen ears pounding with blood, and both of them screamed in terror, holding each other. Florence heard the faint roar as well, heard the sailmaker and cooper scream, and immediately bellowed, “DROP ANCHORS AND FURL SAILS RIGHT NOW!” Her crew reacted quickly, knowing that their lives depended on it. Whether Lady Luck existed or not, they knew one thing: they were lucky, for the roar was coming from a waterfall that plummeted down into nothingness - the anchors had managed to cling to rocks just in time to save them from going over. “This has to be the goddamned end of the world…” Isabel Hornboldt moaned pitifully, the jaguaress who served as the navigator unsheathing and sheathing her claws. “There’s nothing on my maps that says anything about a goddamned waterfall!” “That means we’re close to The Dying Night!” Florence shouted, her eyes alight with recognition. “Don’t you girls remember what the legend said?” “Other than some voodoo witch that cursed the pirates who killed her husband?” Sybil Rowe asked curiously, the tigress carpenter looking straight at her lioness sister, Cecily's eyes. “And they were never heard from again? And that everyone who tried to find this treasure died?” the gunner finished in a dour tone. “Cecily, Sybil, curses aren’t real!” the fox captain snorted to herself. Curses? Ridiculous. And they were a much better crew than those that had died; hadn’t they proved it by surviving until now? “Anyway, it’s at the bottom of the waterfall.” “Well, unless you plan on jumping off, I’d love to hear ideas, Flory!” Agnes snapped. “Always grumbling, Agy, always grumbling about something!” Florence retorted, inwardly seething about the childish nickname uttered by the cook. “Don’t you know that there are tributaries that lead downward? Or did you forget about the legend entirely?” The cougaress’s face flushed in annoyance, but Avis Ballett was quick to say, “But we can’t see anything in the mist!” Florence sighed, quickly wrapping a rope around her paw and stepping off of her perch, down to her crew from the crow’s nest, using her weight to counterbalance and land safely on her paws. Her crew had seen her do it so many times that they were no longer afraid for her safety…but they didn’t dare try it themselves. They would follow her anywhere…except with that; some things were just a death wish. “That’s why the legend is called ‘The Dying Night,’” the fox explained, mostly to the cheetah musician, but to the rest of the crew as well. “We wait until dawn; that’s night’s death, that’s when the mist will clear up and reveal the tributaries. Then we go down to them, find the ship, get the loot, divide it, and get out as rich women.” “You’re placing an awfully big bet on a mere legend, Flory,” Denise mused, her paw drumming on the side rail. “Enough with that stupid nickname! We know it’s real, Denise, there’s enough evidence to prove it, especially since it's here in front of our eyes.” Florence’s green eyes were desperate. “You’re my crew; I’d go down with and for you any day, and you know that, but we can’t be pirates forever. This could be the one. This could be the treasure that we could retire with and live like queens.” “I’d settle for a family.” All heads turned to face Isabel, who looked sad. “We’re family, Izzy,” Grace gently coaxed. “No, I meant…we stole this ship from the privateers together, and we're as close as we can get without being blood…but I want something…tangible,” the jaguaress said with a sigh. “No insult meant to you girls, but we see each other every day, every time I wake up on this ship. I’ve heard every argument we could ever hear. I want a different voice.” “Get enough money, and you could buy a family,” Florence said with a smirk. “Florence, not everything’s about scoring that big loot.” To the black fox’s shock, it was Emma that said those words, the normally quiet snow leopardess having a faraway look in her eyes. “I’d love a family myself. We all grew up as orphans; I wanted to know my mum for years. She died, you know. Died in childbirth. Dear ‘Dad’ left me on the docks. We all have similar stories, Florence, even you. Haven't you ever wanted someone to hold you, to love you, no matter what?” Florence sighed angrily. “Look, you want a mummy to feed you, pay a damn wetnurse. Those times are done, and you can’t ever go back. What’s done is done. We’re here right now, so let’s focus on our goal right now." She took a deep breath and rubbed the fur on her temple - a tic that she had when she was trying to calm herself down. "Anyway, we’re all tired, so get some sleep until dawn. Millicent, Winifred, take the first watch.” The fox’s crew looked at her…and let out collective sighs, knowing they weren’t going to change her mind; she could be quite stubborn. It was the trait that brought them this far, and the trait they loved and hated. But she was right, in a way: she had never steered them wrong, had always kept them safe. “Yes, Cap’n,” they chorused. They gathered their ragged blankets, shivering as, one by one, they fell asleep in the cold mist, their dreams right in front of them…one way or another. - Okay, quick explanation about the specific jobs of this crew on their frigate (a smaller ship used in the Golden Age of Piracy): Captain - Democratically elected on pirate ships, believe it or not, although they could just as easily have command stripped of them. In most cases, the captain was the brains, the one who got the ship through fair or foul means. The most successful captains could install rules on the ship. Quartermaster (quartermistress, in this case) - Also democratically elected, the quartermasters were the seconds-in-command of the ship, unlike the various legitimate vessels (even though the pirates had first and second mates). They were the crew's answer to the pirate captain, sharing their concerns, and being an intermediatory for the captain to give orders to the crew. If the captain had taken another vessel and wanted to start a fleet, the quartermaster would be the captain of that ship. Navigator - Even though the captain and quartermaster often had knowledge of navigation, a pirate ship might have a dedicated navigator. With a good navigator, the captain would know where merchant ships struck, could navigate islands and shallows, that sort of stuff. Boatswain (bosun) - The supervisor of the various seamanship stuff around the ship, monitored the stores, and ensured sails, anchors, and rigging were in good condition. On larger ships, they'd have people under them. Carpenter - The carpenter was the one who was responsible for fixing leaks around the ship, making various repairs, and refitting captured vessels for the purposes of the pirates. They were also responsible for a lot of the, ah...immediate surgeries (i.e., amputations) in the absence of a surgeon. Cooper - The cooper was responsible for assembling barrels, used to keep wet stores, dry stores, gunpowder, water, rum, etc. from spoiling, making them airtight, fixing buckets, etc. Normally on larger ships, but I figured I could make a slight exception. Sailmaker - Sailmakers were basically the chief engineer on a ship, used to stitch and make sails, which, without them, ships went nowhere. In the absence of a surgeon, sailmakers were also responsible for stitching wounds shut. Gunner - The gunner was responsible for the cannons, how much gunpowder was necessary for to hit the target, who shouted the order to fire. Gunner teams (four to six men) were required to be accurate and speedy, and they were outfitted with a lot of guns. Cook - Yes, even pirate ships had cooks. Normally, they were ones with amputations (not here), but while they stole food stores from the ships they captured, and ate from taverns, yes, cooks were needed to prepare food and rum. Musician - Yes, pirates had musicians like fiddlers and trumpeters. Like in others, they created rhythms for shanties, to aid in manual task, and to entertain, but they also contributed to a cacophony of noise during attacks.

Now for something entirely different. This is another babyfur story of mine (one that actually got inspired by @Panther Cub's stories, actually; if you are a fan of babyfur stories, check them out), but it's got very heavy themes. I promise to warn you when they come up. EDIT: About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. Now, on with the show: Chapter One: Guilt and Shame - Constantin Tremblay woke up with a large yawn, the American ermine stretching his limbs, his tail and whiskers twitching with anticipation for the first week of August, the first week of his sophomore year of high school. Then he smelled something funny. He took off his blanket and gasped. No. No, it can’t be! He had unmistakably wet - no, soaked was more like it - the bed. His thoughts were frantic. It’s just got to be a bug. A summer bug. Can’t be FIID. It can’t be that, no, summer bug, it’s just a damn bug. Fallout Incontinent/Infancy Disease, the hidden scourge of the weapon known as Project A, the weapon that turned the world’s then-humans into humanoid animals way, waaay back in the time of, like, the dinosaurs (technically in 1963, during the Kennedy administration, but still) affected about a tenth of all middle and high schoolers. It was a horrible disease, turning those kids into what basically amounted to teen toddlers. No, he was not going to have that. He was already hiding being trans from his parents; he couldn’t have that as well. Already cost me friendships. Can’t have it cost my family too. With those thoughts, Constantin gathered his night clothes and sheets, quickly putting them in the washing machine with a lot of bleach, before turning the bleach toward his bed. Then the shower. The thing he hated the most, his dysphoria clearly showing there. His breasts, unmistakably showing his outward sex, hiding the powerful man he knew he was. He hated them, hated them. The ermine made sure to take a longer time in the shower than normal, washing every single part of his awful body to get the smell off of him. He put on his clothes: baggy black jeans, a loosely-fitting black T-shirt, and combat boots. Thank whatever gods existed - not that Constantin believed in a god; if there were any, they wouldn’t have made him like this - that there wasn’t a school uniform for anything other than basketball; it would’ve sucked if he was forced to wear a skirt or dress. Then he did the gel in his short hairfur, spiking it up. Then his glasses. He hated that he needed glasses; it made him look nerdy. Yeah, he got decent grades, but it was his basketball career that he cared about. His parents were fine with it because they were former jocks (Dad played soccer; Mom was a former cheerleader.), but… He shook his head furiously. He was going to have a good day at school, damn what the morning wanted him to think. Constantin let out another yawn, making a small breakfast for himself (his parents were off on their high-paying five-to-five jobs, so he was fairly self-sufficient.): just regular cereal and orange juice (breakfast of champions!) before he got his stuff packed and ready for school. He noted the silver coin on the countertop with Mom’s signature (payment for lunch and a thinly-veiled demand for “Marie-Claire” to join cheerleading) telling him to take the coin (which he did), and let out a sigh, exiting into the morning light. The ermine was early for the school trolleybus (it was rare for animals to have a car, since the gas-guzzlers had stopped being produced after the Fallout, and electric cars were only used by the rich...like his dad and mom), getting on with a nod at the driver, an elderly gorilla who nodded back at him before the trolleybus sped off. Constantin sat at the back, relaxing and almost nodding off with rock-n-roll music, before a familiar voice woke him up. “Hey, you’re taking my spot.” He opened his black eyes to see an ocelot, her amber eyes appraising him cautiously. He knew her. Allyson. Allyson Blood, his former bestie before…stuff happened. Mainly because Constantin never came out as trans to her (to anyone, really), and felt uncomfortable around girls nowadays (he was definitely attracted to girls, which made things…complicated.)…but partially because Allyson had gotten FIID, along with…his other two former friends. She was wearing a pink onesie with cartoon cats that did nothing to hide the fact that she was wearing a very thick diaper, and had a pink pacifier clipped to the neck area of her onesie. Her spotted tail flicked nervously, as she clutched a stuffed saber-toothed tiger in her paws. “Then take it from me if you can,” Constantin said in a bored tone. “It’s my spot. I’ve had it all of last year, Marie.” He looked at her, her eyes watering with tears, and a guilty feeling gnawed at his heart. “I…fine, take it,” the ermine muttered, shifting over so Allyson could get her body into the seat. “Thank you, Marie,” the ocelot said gratefully, popping in her pacifier and sucking nervously. “Whatever, I didn’t know it was your spot,” he muttered, hating his high-pitched tilting female voice. “Sho…I shee you’re doin’ bashketbaw?” The pacifier muffled her words, almost cutely. Not cutely. She’s just a damned overgrown baby now. Your friendship with her is over, let alone anything more. And yet… “Yeah, I figure that since I’m on the girl’s team…yeah.” “I’vf sheen your gamesh. You’re reawy good.” “Eh, I’m decent.” A lie. He had already gotten scholarship offers - women’s, of course, but one or two men’s teams as well - from high-profile colleges all across the United States, despite starting this year as a sophomore. “Don’t wie. I’m onwy FIID, not shtupith.” He looked at Allyson, seeing her glaring at him. Still intimidating, even though she was dressed as a baby (especially since she was bigger than he was). “I said I was decent. What’s there to lie about?” “Whatever.” The ride continued in stony silence, as more and more students - and teachers - got on the trolleybus. Constantin noted with dread that the ride had picked up his two other former close friends: Haylee Kilgallen the black-backed jackal and Krysten Peppers the long-eared owl, both of them sitting on the opposite side of him, both clad in similar attire to Allyson (only with a stuffed unicorn for Haylee and a stuffed roc for Krysten). “Hi, Marie!” Krysten said excitedly. “It’s been a while…” “Krys, she made her choice,” Haylee said coldly, her paw on Krysten’s wing feathers, as Constantin felt another gut punch of guilt. It’s not like they’d be your friends anyway. You’re not a girl, never were one. There’s too many issues, too many problems, and they’d stop being your friends if they knew the truth. So why did he feel so guilty and ashamed? “Hey, MC!” a voice cut through. The ermine looked up (way up; the speaker was a giraffe) to see his fellow basketball teammate (and fellow superstar), Xenia Chaconas. Xenia had a smirk on her face, as she said in mock sympathy, “I didn’t know you were FIID, MC. You wearing a diaper, too?” “I’m not,” Constantin huffed. “I’m just sitting with them, that’s all.” “You don’t have to sit with them, you know,” the giraffe continued. “You could sit with the big girls and talk with us.” “Yeah, but I just wanted to listen to my music, not talk,” Constantin growled. “Then sit somewhere else!” Haylee snapped at him. “We don’t want you here.” The words cut straight to the ermine’s heart. Haylee was someone who would fight off the legions of hell for someone if they were her friend. To hear that from her… “C’mon, Lee, you don’t mean that…” Krysten twittered nervously. “I do, Krys. She’s not welcome to sit with us anymore.” “Aw…you hear that? It’s almost like they’re talking!” Xenia cooed mockingly, as Constantin reluctantly got up and walked with the giraffe, who sneered, “I’ll come by the nursery to see you three later.” “Hey, MC!” “Yo, MC, what up?” “Howzit goin’, MC?” The words of Constantin’s fellow basketball teammates felt hollow to him; using the initials of his deadname as a nickname was almost too much to bear, and yet…he knew they meant no malice with it; it was all they really knew. They don’t know you. Your old friends did. And they don’t ever want to see you again. The guilt and shame grew in his heart, so much so that he almost wanted to cry. But he couldn’t. Not in front of his teammates. He felt a large arm snake around his shoulders, the hoof grabbing on to him, as he turned to see…Dragan. Dragan Lazarov. The superstar of the soccer team…and his wannabe boyfriend. The impala planted a kiss on the ermine’s cheek, to his inner disgust. “Hey, MC,” the soccer player rumbled. “You doing okay? Xenia’s not giving you too much grief, is she?” “She’s fine,” Constantin said, wanting Dragan to get the hell away from him, he wasn’t interested in boys, he was never interested in boys. “You know, I was thinking about a date, you know?” “Dragan…” “A date it is, then! How about we see that R-rated movie, huh?” Constantin squirmed under Dragan’s gaze. “I’m a little busy…” “Too busy for me? Blasphemy.” A smirk. The ermine hated that smirk. “C’mon, your dad, my dad, we know each other. It only makes sense.” He looked at the impala. Just because their dads played soccer on the same professional team didn’t mean he was interested in Dragan. Not. One. Bit. “I’ve got a lot of other things to do,” Constantin said, a hint of finality in his tone. “It’s a date then! You know where I’ll be.” The school - Frederick Frost High, the biggest public school in Chicago’s suburbs - came into view, and Constantin could not wait to get off, which he did…but out of the corner of his eye, he saw his three former friends get off as well, along with a fair few other obvious FIIDers, saw the two feline caregivers, what were their names, oh, right, Colleen and Carolina Cross, give assistance, and something drew him over to them, as he hid behind the school tree (a blooming oak tree, one of the few trees left after the Fallout), watching Allyson start to cry as her diaper was checked. “Aww, it’s okay, Ally, you’ll get potty training down eventually,” Colleen the caracal cooed, wiping the ocelot’s tear-and-snot-covered face with a wet-wipe in her paw. “Uh oh, looks like we have a couple of other stinkypants on our paws!” Carolina the serval announced as she checked Krysten and Haylee, who both looked embarrassed and on the verge of tears. I…they were my closest friends. What have I done? What the hell have I done? Was this really worth it? Don’t be a pansy. Of course it was! You and them…it wouldn’t have mixed. You’re on the girl’s basketball team. You’re a top basketball recruit in the nation. They’re going back into their second toddlerhood. And you didn’t have a choice. No, you ALWAYS had a choice! YOU chose to leave them when they needed you the most! YOU chose to hide everything about yourself! YOU chose to live a damned lie every day instead of being honest! You deserve EVERY bad thing that comes your way! You don’t deserve true friends! The feelings of guilt and shame tore him up, and he slumped down the tree, starting to silently cry. - Well, here's hoping for the best for Constantin~ Feel free to review, tell me what I did right, what I can improve on, or even something you liked; that helps me, as an aspiring authoress, more than just blind praise.

My first diaper story! Here, a motherly lavender dragon adopts a slave not to use her, but to parent her. No diapers yet, I'm afraid. Maybe in the next chapter a hint of them? :3 I promise, by the end, Maria will be a good little baby cat. :DD And more importantly, I hope to both grow the characters of Maria and Chelsey as stronger, healthier people through their connection. This is a draft, so I'm happy to take suggestions. It's also focused on consensual regression, as I think that's adorable and hot, but I'm very down to write dubious consent stuff in the future. With all that said, enjoy! To Be a Mother – Chapter 1 Chained Strays A girl waited in there for Chelsey. That brick storefront, Marol’s Helpers on 1289 Culper’s Avenue, with rain slithering down through the red and brown cracks of bricks into the side walk below, held her chance at a daughter. She wanted to help somebody, truly. In the glove box, she broke out a purple umbrella, then changed her mind. She cracked open the car door and slid out into the rain, appreciating this freshness against the atmosphere she was about to walk into. Drizzled, Chelsey lavender fur sparkled in the rain. She was a tall anthro dragon, and she wore a black pencil skirt and a scarlet blouse. With her wings spread out, she walked across the parking lot, to that dirty glass door surrounded by all those bricks. It almost looked like a prison. She wished she could help more than one girl. But just helping one meant something for her, even if it screamed in her mind to be insignificant. A claw gripped the handle, and she walked inside. “Welcome!” a chipper weasel said. She had long reading glasses across her snout that held a huge smile. “Are you Ms. Chelsey? We’re so glad you could make it with the weather.” Unlike the secretary’s bright demeanor, the floor was bare, white perfect white tiles. The walls were white too, a waiting room, yet still, there was no dust anywhere. Chelsy wondered for a second why the outside wasn’t upkept but the inside was pristine (though in her mind, scourging.) But of course it made perfect sense, given what this place does. They likely wanted to keep a low profile from the local area’s government. She was entering a criminal dwelling. God, was this really her chosen adoption method? “The roads aren’t too slippery yet. Could I see the, umm, options now?” The language was so objectifying, but it felt better than the alternative. “Of course, our slaves are so excited to meet you.” As they walked down the blistering long hallway, Chelsey’s heels echoed all around. She would be confident here. She wanted a strong but gentle first impression. She held her white snout up. This place, despite its horrors, wouldn’t shake her from rescuing her future daughter. There, at the end, were two girls and a boy sitting on a bench, each chained with cuffs to the wall. One girl, a cat with long whiskers and lime fur, had her head down. She still has herself, Chelsey thought. The others, a male cat and a female cow, were alert, staring out, as close to a grin as they could muster. A tall bloodhound was smoking a cigarette and leaned against the still-white walls. There were no windows in here. “Ah, you’re here for one of these?” “Yes,” the weasel said. “A happy member to join her family.” Chelsey wanted to roll her eyes at the fakeness here. But it was true. She will make one of these animals happy. She needed to. Animals deserve to be happy. “Smile,” the dog gritted through his teeth, his snout deep into the girl cat’s ears. No, stop. He placed a paw under her snout, pushes up. She’s resisting. She wanted to keep her jaw down. He wouldn’t let her. Her force gives away, and her muzzle bolted upright. She looked straight at Chelsey now, and with near tears in her eyes, shined a delirious grin. The other cat shuffled in his seat—as much as his cuff will allow—feeling the tension here, but he took a clear breath. The cow seemed not to be bothered by all this movement, still calm and face ahead. Meanwhile, the weasel fanned herself with files, avoiding gazing at the scene. Was that her disguise peeling off, or was she okay with this business? Could she not get another job? Chelsey was always a curious dragon. “I would like to adopt her,” Chelsey said, pointing to the tortured female cat. “Please.” “Oh, but surely you would want one of these other fine specimen?” the dog said, a ringleader of his circus. There’s a bit of panic to his voice, and his paw strongly gestures outwards to the other two captives. “She’s such a runt of the litter, you know.” “I’ll take her. What’s her name?” “Maria,” the cat whispered. “Wait, was it okay to speak? I’m so sorry!” “It was very okay,” Chelsey said. She kneeled down, a hind talon stretching back down the cold hallway floor, a front talon offering to hold the Maria’s paw. “I’m Chelsey. I’m going to take you home. Would you like that?” “I…I think so? I mean, yes, master!” Maria’s eyes were very wide for the vertical pupils of a cat. She was absolutely terrified, the poor thing. “Pft,” the bloodhound grunts, arms crossed. “Who cares what she likes. She’s just a slave. Jeez, masters have gotten so soft these days.” Chelsey really, really wanted to snap at the dog. But it wasn’t worth it. She needed to seem at close to a normal slave master. They might reject the sale if they knew she was going to spoil this kitten. So the exhaled, her large belly and chest fluff falling inwards. and she turned her large lavender scaled head to the hound. “How much will she be?” *** The rain poured hard on the car’s windshield, and the window wipers worked in overtime. Maria was quiet in the backseat. She had her head down again. Of course she did. She still saw Chelsey as her slave master. I must be disgusting in her eyes, Chelsey thought. She needed to work to win this cat’s trust if the girl was to ever see her as mom. “How you doing back there, friend?” Chelsey was so tempted to say “little one,” but it wasn’t time yet. She looked at the girl in the rear view mirror. “You can drop the act.” “What?” “You bought a slave. You’re going to use me. You don’t need to pretend we’re friends.” For who had seemed to be scared little cat, this was a change. But at least she’s confident to express herself. This was a good start. After a focus on a tricky intersection, Chelsey had a response. “Someone’s a little confident now that they’re rescued.” “Rescued?” She’s skeptical, then furious. “Rescuing me? You want to own me! I’m just glad to not be slapped by that man anymore.” Chelsey chuckled. “You don’t think I’m going to slap you?” She’s loving this personality. Cats can be a bit snippy. “Nah, you seem too soft for that. You’re probably just going to make me fold laundry and cook dinner or something.” She sunk into her seat. “I’m kind of lucky to have you buy me. Still doesn’t make us friends, though.” There’s a bit of quiet. Then Chelsey said, “I don’t think you’re lucky to end up in a place like that.” “No,” Maria considered, “I wasn’t.” Silence some more. Chelsey continued, “I don’t expect you to open up to me right now or anytime soon. What I want you to know is that you’re free.” Maria scratched the fuzz around her ears, probably wondering if she heard that right. “What do you mean?” “I’m saying that I wanted do something good for once, and I decided to give someone a better life. You’re not my slave. You’re free to leave as soon as we arrive at my home.” “I..” She couldn’t comprehend this. She was squirming in her seat, her seat belt sweating to restrain her. “You’re still a fucked up woman to find an animal trafficking service instead of, I dunno, donating to charity, but oh my god, I have a life again. A life…” “Yes?” Chelsey said. She didn’t want to lose this cat, but this was all part of the plan. A good mother lets her children be themselves. “I don’t have any money, though. I’m just going to end up back there. Again.” “Which is why,” Chelsey said, “You can live at our home as long as you need. I don’t want to dump you off in the middle of nowhere. I want to help you live, reorder your life.” “So, you want to be, like, a guardian? Adoption services exist too, you know.” The cat missed the small slip of “our.” The dragon smirked, her fangs shiny and tall. “Sure, but I wanted to help someone in your position. It’s something I strongly care about.” Maria didn’t really understand this, but that cat seemed satisfied enough with this answer. “Sure. Thank you.” “…There will still be a few rules, but nothing that isn’t normal house stuff. I’ve got some surprises when we get home.” The cat’s attention was lost, though. The girl, maybe 22 or so, had her eyes out the window. The city’s towers were shrinking into rolling hills and cliff faces. They were on the highway now. It would be a long drive in the rain until they reached Chelsey’s home, now the home of two. A mother, and a daughter at least in a legal sense. But an emotional bond would come soon. The dragon craved it.

Skunk Boys Top of his class, a dog finds himself transforming into a skunk. He's gassier, stupider, yet for some reason, he might just like it. (5,563 words.) (All characters are 18+. This is an alternate world where high school continues pass 18, as I thought a secondary school setting felt cuter here than college.) It started with a fart. A big, loud, nasty fart that snuck out of your ass. Your classmates look around, the teacher rattles on, but they all sniff out the truth. It was you. You made the room disgusting and smelly. It was you and your now swampy ass's fault. You feel horrible. You're a proper dog who's an A+ student. You shower every morning and night, and you wear nice collared shirts despite many of your classmates opting for more casual affair or going commando. Why didn’t you hold it? You rush to the men’s' bathroom. Your favorite Optimus Primal underwear is slightly brown in the center, and you hope it'll come out in the laundry. For minutes you're washing off your butt and fur with way too thin toilet paper. That’s good enough, you eventually device, and you walk back into class head down, cheeks flushed. A skunk in the back snickers as you enter. You think his name is Philip. He's always a bit smelly and still wears diapers to class. Not your type at all. You ignore him, as something else bothers you; that fart smelled kind of good. Everyone likes the smell of their own farts, though. Yet it’s selfish you enjoyed that smell when it was awfully rude. At lunch, you sit with the usual group. They’re talking about their classes, but you keep to yourself and your food as usual. The grilled cheese your mother packed is tasty. That night, you work diligently on calc homework. It's interesting enough. You like school, and you're a good student; by now you've practically forgotten all about your smelly mishap this morning. You still take a long, cold shower and fetch a tight belt for your pants tomorrow. Your black pants feel a bit tight the next day, but you pull them up fine. Another usual lunch passes. Then you're back in calculus, last period today, and you're diligently taking notes. It's only a second of warning. There's discontent in your bowels, and you think it'll pass or you'll head to the restroom, but your control slips. Hot mush fills your pants, squished by the chair. You've shit yourself. Run, you think. But smells wafts through air fast, and your toxic fumes are released. Everyone's eyes are on you, including the professor's. Your eyes water. They're gagging and giggling simultaneously. “Ew, gross!” Two days in a row, this time a poop…these furs must hate you. "Simon, would you like to---" "Yes, I excuse myself." You duck out, holding the back of your pants up with your paws, hoping none of the shit will touch you. As you open the door, you notice again that same skunk in the back smirking. Couldn't other animals leave you alone? Even somefur like Philip is judging you! You present yourself so well all the time. Why are you messing up everything now? You didn't bring a change of clothes---who would at this age?---so you do your best to remove that disgusting gunk out of your tighty whities. Just take a remote path, avoid eye contact, and you can get home. Your friends will hear all about this... Thank god your parents aren’t home. You take the longest shower you've ever had, the temperature set a little warmer than you usually like it. You feel bad for using so much water. In the corner of your eye, you do notice your dusty fur turning a bit darker around your butt, but you don’t make much of it. It’s the least of your problems. You really go to the bathroom the next day before school. Pee, poop: you get it all out of your system. And it works! Nothing goes wrong in math class. At lunch, the group was a little worried how you were doing, but otherwise they chatted amongst themselves. In the halls, some classmates give you concerned glances; maybe you were too hard on yourself yesterday. They're not all making fun of you. You're a valued member of your community. You're a good student, and you know you’re proud of that. The chemistry lab later feels a bit more difficult than expected, and you find your brain feels a bit foggy, but otherwise the day went alright. So you're very certain the next day you'll be dry. You walk into end-of-the-day calculus period with utter confidence. It shocks you, then, when your belly gurgles. You feel tension below. Then it releases. Splurt! Your just start crapping yourself. Stop it, Simon, stop it! But you keep on crapping. Your classmates are disgusted and jolt out of their seats, backing off to the edge of the room, except that skunk Philip, of course. Your butt does not care. It keeps on pooping and crapping and your pants sag way the heck off the chair. You're crying, but simultaneously, it feels so good. This is not what a student like you should think! You hear a Snap! and your belt flies off, slamming into the wall right next to Mr. Green. Your tail rips through the small tail hole. Is it getting larger, bushier? It thwacks a chair over. Your ass shows no sign of stopping. You keep on shitting yourself as you finally get yourself to stand and run out the room. How will you ever return from that? The nurse tells you what you expected. After your incident, you're required to wear diapers. "Don't worry," she says. Ms. Bell is a long weasel known for a big heart. "Some animals need diapies, and it's nothing to be ashamed of!" She's also known for being patronizing. You cringe. A strong student like you shouldn't wear diapers nor have accidents like this. And will you fit them inside your neat pants? Everyone will see the budge. But everyone's likely heard of your incidents at this point. You're going to be known as that poopy boy dog for the next month. The nurse recommends some brands on the way out, and you begrudgingly jot notes. She provides a couple diapers. Why do those soft white things have to look so comfy… On the way home, you're thinking, what was up with your tail? The nurse told you not to worry; body changes happen when you're experience bowel destress. But you're very confused by it. You'll have to cut a larger tail hole in your pants tonight. “We got a call from the school,” your father says as you hang your coat up. It’s small on you with the curves you’ve got growing in. You don’t know how to respond. “To say we’re disappointed is an understatement,” he continues. “Dad, I’m sorry! It was an accident!” “How can an accident that bad happen?” your mom says and sighs. She’s reclining on the green reupholstered chair in the living room, your dad lying on the brown couch. “You should’ve told us about yesterday’s incident. You don’t need to keep secrets from us, you got that Simon?” “I know. I’m sorry.” “We love you,” Mom says. “This is just so hard to believe. My son, wearing those again?” She sips from her tea mug. You’re looking at the carpeted floor. “Can I be excused to my room? I’ll go put my lunch box away.” “Yes, dinner will be at 6,” Dad says. At dinner, They later agree to purchase some "protective underwear" (you all know its diapers). Your mother locks eyes and comforts you, saying she knows your behavior will improve. You’re on your third bowl of pasta and your mom demands you eat your broccoli first. Damn you’re hungry. Maybe if you eat less, you’d poop less. Or if you eat more, you’ll poop more. You shake the thought away. *** "They're so big" is your first thought dressing the next day. The wrinkled texture is obvious on your kacki pant's back rise. So easily could the diaper's hem peep out, too. Your butt was not this big yesterday. You tuck your white buttoned shirt in and opt for suspenders today. That should keep the diaper in. Your now thick, increasingly striped tail swishes. A couple murmurs, but today's overall gone swimmingly. You almost forget you have the diapers when a certain skunk slides up behind you in the hall. "Ooh, nice! Diapers are the best. Whatch'ya you have on?" Philip speaks with a raspy, toothy lisp. A Charmander plushie dangles on a keychain from his backpack. No, stop it! You shouldn't associate with him. But he's too fast. He pulls down the pants, stretching the suspenders. The plain white diaper shows. "Ooh, that's a good brand. The nurse knows the best stuff. I like ABUs a bit more, though. You got to try them. Holds my poop real well." He grins, eyes gleaming behind his glasses, and he gives a big, smelly hug. You try to wiggle out. Every animal is looking at you now, pointing at your big diaper on your big butt. You want to run. Philip wasn't the brightest animal on the block. Friendly sure, a huge Pokémon nerd, but not your type. You were an academic animal. You weren't a diapered slob. Except at this point, you kind of were. You're confused. You didn't want to be like Philip. But something about being a smelly animal sounded interesting. You're about to be free from his embrace and it's the worst possible timing. A gurgle, but there's practically no warning. A huge log of shit tumbles into your diaper. Despite the suspenders, the back starts to weigh down. Philip squeals with delight. No, don't impress him! All the cats and bunnies and other animals are pointing now laughing. Like yesterday, you can't stop. You keep pushing, stiffening your arms, and it unfortunately feels so good. You like this. You feel your muzzle become stouter somehow. Was your tail getting longer again? Your belly then gets rounder, and your thighs chubbier and mushier. "Oh that's good," Philip says. "Just push it out. You'll feel so much better. Gee, we should be friends!" He walks around behind you, puts his skunk snout right into your diapered behind. "Ahh, that's the stuff. Super fresh and smelly. See you later, stinky pal!" You're not a stinky pal. You don't want to be a stinky pal. Then why did it feel so good to have his muzzle push your poop into your fat ass? You shudder as you try to avoid thinking along this line further. The crowd slowly disperses. Pulling up your pants, you walk along to class. You'll change later. The smell's a bit nice, and maybe your peers won't mind. Philip had a point. Students scootch their desks away in calculus class, but you don't mind it. They seem to smile at you. Even if the smell makes them gag, they think you're kind of cute. A laughing stock, but cute. You have a quiz today, and you know you did worse than you usually do. But it doesn't bother you. Grades feel just a little less important in your head. You smush your butt around in your pampy. Nice and squishy, and still a tad warm too. You blush. You hated the idea of diapers yesterday, but you could get used to this. Others roll their eyes looking at you but still smile. You're just a diapered smelly animal. They do this sometimes. They just love their diapers. When the bell rings and you stand, you swing your pudgy arms rapidly to stop yourself from falling. Was the desk always that cramped? No, it wasn't. You're getting fatter. Dumber and fatter, you reckon. That sounds good. ---No! This isn't how you used to think! Snap out of it! But why fight whatever's "corrupting" you when it sounds so perfect and stupid? That night, you're brushing your teeth and notice yourself in the mirror. Your rounder ears, your forming white stripes: no doubt about it, you're becoming a skunk. A gross, dumb, fat, disgusting skunk. You're not surprised. Everything you've been doing, from each poop all the way back to that massive fart, has been skunk behavior. And you're only going to get skunkier. You pee yourself at the thought, your diapered front turning yellow from your little penis. You drool. You're a skunk boy. It sounds more and more nice and you. You should talk to that Phlip fellow more. He could give you some tips on stupid skunk life. You can’t let your parents know you actually like all this, though. You smile bright when your mom tucks you in to bed. There's something you need to sleep. Where is it? You jump out of the covers and then dig behind your bed into the mess of papers, and of course you're pooping and peeing your diaper as well. And there it is! Your stuffed Anteater. You bring it to your snout and slobber all on it. It's now sopping, but you provide her a massive hug. She's your best friend. You jump into bed in your unchanged diaper and let your scent wafer around the room. Just a good smelly skunk under his covers. You snooze quickly. *** You don't even bother wearing clothes the next day. Your diaper is so pretty and happy on its own, and no clothes makes it easier for the nurse to check your diaper. Today, a massive diaper sags behind you on the floor full of your very own hot poop as you drool. Your skunk conversion is almost complete. Nobody would ever think you were a dog or smart again. You're an extremely poopy, stinky, kind, adorable skunk friend. Walking down the hall, students wave and smile, pinching their noses. They think you're cute! You haven't pooped today yet, but you're farting. They're so explosive now, and you can breathe in poop droplets in the air. There's so tasty; you take a deep breath to get as much as you can. You're a biohazard now, but super sweet. A river of drool winds behind you, so a wet floor sign is placed. A janitor gives you a thumbs up as they start mopping up your drool. You giggle and drool some more. You shit yourself and hug your Anteater stuffy you brought. It's hard to sniff out Phil over the stench of your diaper, but you find him. He's grunting and pooping himself. "Simon!" Philip says, waddling towards you. "Looking awesome. You're a skunk like me!" He's drooling too and holds up a paw to high four. His diaper is also to the floor, swollen with his fine poop. He bends his arms and lets out a loud fart. "Yeah!" Your butt lets out a little toot. "Wanna have a play date sometime?" That word came out so naturally. Strange. "YES! I'm so happy you asked!" He gives a big fat hug to your now black and white pudgy belly. "I got smash and Pokémon and lots of games. Let's come over to my house! Maybe tomorrow? I'd ask my mommy." You don't remember the last time you've been to someone's houses. When was the last time you hung out with your other friends? Those friends you only talked to at lunch. The playdate sounds really nice, and you drool at the thought. "Sure!" Meanwhile, the adults in the room walk around you in the hallway, eyes locked on their destinations. Despite your sharded monochrome fur, you two are the color in the room. "Here's my phone number," Philip says. He scribbles it onto an index card. "Text me if you need help finding my home!" In class the next day you're at your desk, and you can't focus. Your pencil refuses to connect with the page. Meanwhile, you're crapping. The diaper is expanding down beyond your chair. This is what life should be. You feel your intelligence literally pushing itself into the seat of your diaper. Your smarts are draining while you keep pooing. You're a bit anxious at what this means for school, but why should you care when you're so much happier now? You've got a playdate upcoming with Phil! You don't need to be stressed because you don't need to think about stuff that doesn't matter. Just be happy and play and push. Skunks don't think; they stink. You giggle to yourself and smush your mess all around. You're a good skunk. You still had to wonder: why you, why now? But thinking was hard. You didn't need to question this. You sit at your usual lunch table. No one comes. You check your watch. It’s 5 past now. They should be here. Where’s the group? You get up, walk around. Everyone’s eating, but they’re used to autistic kids walking around. You see them. The group is at a different table chatting. There’s still an empty seat. Maybe you didn’t know about the switch? “Can I join?” you ask through your big teeth. “Uh, sure,” a fox says. They don’t talk the rest of lunch. You’re not clueless. You feel icky inside. You’ll sit with Philip tomorrow. That sounds better. Later, you dread math class. What's the point of it? There's no snuggling nor playing. Your other classes at least let you socialize. But the day would end soon enough, and then you'd go to Phil's house for the playdate! Your parents would be a bit suspicious where you were, since you usually come home right after school to attempt starting your homework. So you text them the truth. They've wanted you to find actual friends anyhow. They don't need to know your friend is this skunk. The hours crawl by, but school is done. Philip went home on his own to get things ready. You're outside the house now, and you ring the doorbell. When was the last time you went somewhere new? A tall chubby skunk opens the door. "Hello!" she says. "You must be the new friend Philip has been telling me so much about it. I'm his mother. I feel honored to meet you!" You can't help but notice a diaper peeking out under her green dress. She needs one too? "Uh, yeah." "Come on in! Philip's on the couch waiting. I'll prepare you two some smoothies while you play." "Thank you, miss." You want to hate her overbearingness, but it feels kind of nice. "Oh, call me Samantha. Or Philip's mommy, if you prefer. Jess is Philip's momma. We differentiate that way." She laughs. You're not sure who Jess is, but a voice disrupts this thought. "SIMON!!" Philip says. In the entertainment room, he's got all the shades drawn and the happiest grin on his snout. His diaper takes up half the couch. You run towards him on plop on the couch. You each give a big hug. You can't help it! Is this how good real friendship feels? Why don't your main friends meet up, let alone hug each other? "I got Smash ready! And of course the GameCub controllers~" he points to an elaborate setup with a GameCub adapter you've only heard of in internet discourse. "Oh cool. I've never played Smash, so sorry if I'm awful." "You've NEVER PLAYED SMASH?" he says. Drool leaks from his muzzle in his shock. "Okay, we need to fix this. I call Pikachu." You're in the middle of a match when Samantha walks in. Philip grumpily pauses the game. "Who wants apple and banana smoothies!" "Me! Me!" Philip say. His mother bends down and gives him a kiss. He grabs the smoothie and starts slurping on the metal straw. "And for you," she says as she paws you one. Not to be rude, you take a slurp immediately. "This is so good!" you say. "I know, my mommy makes the best smoothies" Philip says proudly through his drinking. There had to be a catch here. Your mother would’ve told you to get your own drink, lazy butt. Here, Philip is playing and his mother provides him a snack. It’s really sweet, but maybe unnatural. Your parents have the right smart parenting, you know that. You play for hours. Prime homework times passes, though it's not like you would've gotten yourself started anyways by now. You're falling into it. You're maining Kirby, slurping on Samantha's apple and banana smoothie, and you love it. You never had any consoles at home because your parents said they're time suckers. But this is amazing! "Another match! Another match!" you shout. "Of course, bud!" Philip says. "Actually," Samantha says, now in front of the TV, "It's Philip's feeding time. You can join if you want. I'll give diaper changes afterwards!~" She sings Feeding time? Before you can respond, Samantha squishes herself between you and Philip. No, you’re a friend! But then the strangest thing happens. She pulls off her dress, revealing her loose thighs. She has massive breasts, and Philip happily latches. His muzzle starts moving. No, no, no, no... You don't want to be rude, but you can't join this. She's not your mother. Despite how nice she is, your parents are at 17 Banyard's Street and you should return home. You sit there and watch curiously. Nursing, at this age? But Phil really loves it. You hear purrs and grunts between his suckles. It's so intimate. You drool a bit. Maybe you could ask your mom to play a board game or something. But you know she finds them boring. You hear a squelch, and you notice Philip's mother stiffen a bit. She can't have pooped herself, can she? But she is, and is still doing so. Philip is nursing his mother as she messes herself. He's likely to mess himself soon after. It's really sweet. "I'm home!" a voice sounds from the front door. You see a yellow cat approach. Your eyes are trained now, and beneath black pants is a diaper bulge. This must be Jess, Philip's other mom. You wonder how your parents would act around these two. “They’re corrupting lunatics!” you can hear you dad shout. "Awww," Jess says. She leans a paw against a doorway beam. "Looks like two are a bit busy right now. And who are you?" "...I'm Philip's friend." "A friend! Philip has a friend? That's wonderful!" Jess says. Samanatha gives her a look that means business. Jess controls herself. "I mean, of course Philip has a friend. We're so happy to have you over." She yawns. "I'm beat from work, but I can help make dinner later, Sammy." Fudge, it’s late! "Oh my, I've got to get home! Family dinner and stuff." "Would you like a ride?" Samantha has Philip detach himself, much to his disappoint. You don't want to trouble them, but a ride would lessen how late you are and in return how mad your parents will be. "Yeah, that would be nice. *** "A new friend," your father says as he stab a big fork into steak. "Yeah," you lisp. Your plate has steak, a salad, and mashed potatoes. Only the mashed potatoes looks particularly appetizing. Are your tastes changing, too? "We got a call from the school," your mother says. You freeze. You want to grab your anteater stuffy from your backpack and hug her tight so bad. Oh gosh, what did they say? She continues. "They want to place you in Special Ed classes. Says that a skunk like you needs extra help. Your grades are slipping." Special Ed? You were in those classes back in elementary. They tried to teach you to socialize, but really you missed class time and felt ostracized. You can't go back there! "No child of mine will be a skunk," your dad says after a big bit. "I don't care how your body is changing. You're a dog and you better act like it." Run. You want to run so bad. You're not a dog: you're a skunk. Stop talking, stop talking. You cover your ears. "No listen to me, young man," your father snaps. "If your grades don't improve, we're kicking you out. You're an adult, and if you don't want to value your education, maybe it's time for you to experience the real world. You got that?" Please stop. You're wailing now. What a baby you've become... "Oh stop your crying," your mother says. “You’re a grown-up.” "You got it?" your dad asks. "Yes! I understand!" "Good," he says. "Get your act together, Simon. I'm not fucking kidding." He talks as he chews. "And put some clothes on, for God's sakes." Your mother smiles again and turns to your dad. "So how was work, Mark?" *** You sit down next to Philip in Special Ed. Of course he's here, too. You're kinda glad about that. You're wearing a collared shirt with a tie. The fabric is spreading between the buttons due to the weight you've put on, but you overall look professional. Your diaper is hidden under your pants, and there's only a wetting in there as far as you're aware. "Woah Simon, what's with the getup?" he says. The teacher hasn't walked in yet. "I'm trying to be mature again. I was taking this skunk thing too far." You sigh. "Maybe you should too---we could be friends that way. I could show you to my parents!" Philip shakes his head. "Snap out of it, Simon! This isn't you. You're a good skunk and you know it!" "Only since a week ago." "And it's been a great week! I'm so glad I wished for us to be friends." Your ears pop up. You’re sweating. "...What do you mean, wish?" "Oh," Philip chuckles. He picks his nose a bit. "I went to the library, which I normally only do to get Sonic comics, and found a silly spellbook I thought meant nothing. The page I flipped to said the spell could fulfill your dreams, so I wished we could be friends. I only realized yesterday at the playdate that the spell made you more skunky too, huh!" "You did what!?" You're steaming as you wet yourself. "Did you know you ruined my life? I was one of the best students in this school. Now I've got shit for brains and my parents are pissed!" You laugh to clam down. "Well, at least I know a way to maybe fix this, if that book has some counter spell." "Heh, pissed." Philip laughs. You just stare. "Sorry, bad time?" he says. "I didn't think it would actually do anything! "And how could I know it would skunkify you?" "Well of course it did. Only a skunk would be friends with you." Crap, you said that. And you can't take it back. Philip's breaking. His eyes start watering. Then he wails. "My momma is friends with me, and she's a cat. I thought you liked being a skunk. You were so much happier. You looked sad in class before and I thought you needed a friend." “I wasn’t sad! I loved class!” Yet did you still? Some other Special Ed kids are looking at you both now. The conflict had gotten loud. "But it's obviously wrong," you say. The teacher walks in, and you turn away from Philip. He's still looking at you, though. You can feel his eyes. The class consisted of making figures out of shaving cream to express how you feel. Philip kept wanting to show you his creation, but you ignored him. This was training to be a stronger dog. You barely make it to the bathroom in time to mess in a toilet for once. You spend your afternoons the next few days looking for that spellbook in the town library. You hadn't thought magic was real, but here you are searching for witchcraft and again ignoring your homework. The math problems had been so hard lately, and as much as you knew it was giving into your variety of skunkhood, you procrastinated on it. Your searches held no fruit. That book was nowhere. Shelved somewhere among the countless books, or perhaps sent to another branch. You head home once to find a suitcase packed by the door. "You're moving out," your mother says calmly from the kitchen. "What?" you stammer. "You heard her," your father says. He's in the living room playing a game on his tablet. "The house stinks, you look awful. We're sending you out. Go lose some weight, get a job. It'll do you some good. Then you can finish school." "Please, daddy, pwease! I'm twying weallyth hard!" You have a classic skunk lisp now from your large buck teeth. "Well it's not enough," your father says. "I expect great improvement from you." You don't know to process this. It's horrible. You're tearing up as you run upstairs to gather whatever you need most. (It's mostly your studded animals.) You can't fit all your diapers, so you hope whatever you go has them. Where are you going? A hotel? A park? You're shaking. You're too small for this. You're just a little skunk. Madly you rip off all the suit and tie you had forced yourself into. What's the point when it didn't work? Your parents don't want you. You realize who you need to call. No, would he even want to talk? He had every right to reject you after you told him off. He skunified you accidentally, but shouldn't have said the stuff you said. But you needed something. It was the only light you knew. You dig into your contacts---how long would your parents pay for your phone plan?---and find Philip. You didn't have many contacts. You pause for the longest time before a bean taps call. "Oh, hi Simon! How you feeling?" His tone seems fine. "I'm okay. But I need a place to stay. My parents are kicking me out. I know we just fought, but---" "They're kicking you out!? They can't do that!" "They can. I'm 19. They said the real world would do me some good." "The real world is with friends. Hang on, I'm getting my mommies." You hear some shuffling and some muffled dialogue. Then Philip picks up the phone again. "Mommy can drive over to pick you up. Are you packed?" "Yeah," you say. You look to your still made bed and your oak dresser with worn clothes. There's a lot in this room you wouldn't be taking. "Aren't you mad at me?" "Nah, it's hard being a skunk boy. I understand." He pauses for a bit. "I wish more animals were nice like my mommies. They're a lot nicer about me needing diapies." "They do seem good with it," you say. "Listen," Philip says. "I'm sorry that I made you a skunk. I didn't mean to, but it happened. But I hope we can still be friends." You know some magic beyond comprehension played into all this. But right now, being his friend was what sounded worth living for. You pee yourself. "I really want that." *** Your parents said nothing when you walked outside and entered Samantha's car. It was the same one she had dropped you off in only a few days ago. But now you were being taken to her home. "Simon, I'm so, so sorry your parents are treating you this way. No parent should. As a mother, it's enraging to see." "Thanks, Samantha." You see the trees whip by. Cold air flows in by the October breeze. "Jess and I are happy to help. Stay as long as you need. We can get an extra bed. You can even call us momma and mommy if you'd like." "I—" you don't know how to respond. "I'm not your child. I'm a failed dog who was cursed to be a skunk. And for some reason, I like it." Despite everything happening, you admit this to yourself. You like being a skunk. You're a good boy. You can feel a fart coming. You're still crying from earlier. "Philip told us about that," Samantha says with a sigh. She looks at your through the rearview mirror genuinely, then back at the road. "What he did was wrong, magic-ing your mind like that. As much as we wanted him to find friends, that's not the way to do it. We can find the book for you." "No," you say nervously, scratching your fuzzy arm. "I don't want it. I want to be a skunk. And I want to be friends with Philip." "You sure?," Mommy says. “If you change your mind, we can look for it.” You wipe away some tears and drool. “I’m swure for now." You pull at the lot, and Momma and Philip are on the front porch. Philip stumbles forward to give you a hug. "Simon! You're here!" You hug back tight in return. "Yeah! I am here. I am okay!" It's so much to think about. Mommy and Momma start talking to each other. "We get to have an eternal playdate," Philip says. "We can be brothers! Isn't the awesome? We get to play with all the time!" You think about what your future here means. Protection from the horrors of homelessness. Snacks and cuddles with Philip. Nursing on your mothers. Family movie nights and lots of hugs. "Yeah," you say. "It is awesome." You smile. Philip dances in circles around you. Your mommies hold the door open, and you two skunk boys head inside to play and sleep.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Here we are with another one-off story that suddenly came to me! It's a fun idea that I had that wouldn't go away until I actually started writing it! Brand Ambassadorable by Panther Cub "Ooooooooooh, Valoooooorieeeeeee..." The feminine voice echoed a bit through the copse of trees. The vixen was working on controlling her breathing as she ran, ducking under low-hanging branches and hopping over exposed roots and fallen logs. Mentally, Valorie was glad that she had maintained her running regimen. Granted, it was mainly to help her maintain her toned body and stay slim, but still, the stamina was proving quite useful in keeping some distance between herself and the source of the voice calling her name. And to think that the only reason she had gone running in the first place tonight was to shake off some stress. Coming to a little clearing, she slowed to a light jog, taking a moment to look around and get her bearings. Recognizing the pond with the stump next to it, she knew that if she continued to head west, she'd be home free in no time. And I can forget all about this stupid idea, she thought to herself. She picked the pace back up, her orange ears twitching at the sound of crunching twigs and leaves behind her rapidly growing louder. She started pumping her legs a bit harder, wincing as some brambles caught her navy blue athletic shorts and light blue tank-top, creating little tears in both. "Quit acting like such a baby!" The voice called out, now closer. Oh great, she's locked onto my scent! Valorie cursed at herself under her breath. "That's why I'm running! And I don't plan on acting like one anytime soon!" She called back over her shoulder. Looking ahead, she could see it. Her house! Heading straight for it, she was too focused on the figure behind her to notice the second one hiding in a bush on the side of the path until it was too late. A large dark figure leapt out from the brush and tackled the vixen to the ground. Valorie yipped and hissed and scratched, but it was no use. Her upper paws were pinned to the forest floor as she was forced onto her back, staring up first at the twinkling stars visible in the openings in the leafy canopy above, and then into the triumphantly smiling face of her sister, Candice. Mandy, having been hot on Valorie's trail, was soon joining them, taking a minute to catch her breath. Both were wearing similar flannel shirts and jean shorts. "Damn, Val, I was worried we weren't gunna get ya!" Many said, straightening up and giving both of them a thumbs up. Candice And Many were both very large timber wolves, with similar gray, black, and light brown fur colorations. "Let me go!" Val whined, ineffectually kicking her legs. She hated how much larger than her Candice and Mandy were. Of course, she was a fox and they were wolves, so it's not as though the natural size difference wasn't understandable. "Oh no, baby sister!" Candice said with a roll of her eyes. "Not until we're done pitching our idea to Dad and Mom! And for that, one of us needs to get into character!" The she-wolf pinning the smaller canid down looked over to their sister, who winked and padded a satchel resting against her hip. With the tear of velcro, the flap was opened, and something rolled up was tossed to Candice, who caught it in her free paw. Unrolling it revealed a rectangle that, even in the sparse light of the moon, was a loud and bright pink with glittery flower designs set into it. Once it was unfurled on the ground next to Val, she found herself transferred on top of its cushiony surface, her arms re-pinned above her head once she was set on it. "We don't have to do this!" Valorie looked around, seeing Mandy approaching while digging into the satchel. She pulled out a folded up white rectangle that the vixen zeroed in on, barely noticing the canister that was also pulled out and set down next to her. "Val, will you stop being so immature? It's just a diaper." Candice sighed and rolled her eyes, grabbing and gently sliding off Val's shorts and panties. "Yeah? Then why don't you go and put a diaper on yourself?!" "Because you're the smallest--" Candice started, before she was cut off by Mandy. "And the cutest!" Mandy giggled and knelt down next to the changing pad. She gripped Valorie's ankles and used her free paw to grab the baby powder, liberally dusting Valorite's soon-to-be diaper area. "Is that necessary?!" "A clean and good-smelling baby is a happy baby!" "I'm not a baby!" The blushing vixen said as her powdered bottom was gently laid down onto an even more cushiony and lightly crinkling surface. She froze as Candice brought the front of the diaper up and snugly taped it into place. The girls rolled Valorie over to secure her tail through the hole in the back and apply the tape right above the base of said tail, before releasing her. She quickly scrambled to her feet and stepped back, the diaper wrapped around her waist forcing her to step with a slight waddle as she looked down at the bright green paw prints decorating it. It had darker green around the leg gathers and the landing strip. "If it's any consolation, that's a Pawpers Size 6 diaper for wolf pups!" Mandy said, her tail thumping against a nearby tree. "Why would I want to know that?!" Valorie huffed, blushing at the thought that even at age 18 she still fit perfectly into a diaper made for actual wolf babies and toddlers. "And what's to stop me from just ripping this dumb thing off and running back home?" "You mean, aside from running around in the bright moonlight with no bottoms on where the neighbors can potentially see you before you make it into the house?" Valorie winced at that, not having thought of that. She looked around and couldn't see her shorts or underwear, so assumed either Candice or Mandy had taken them. "Then how about the fact that this could really help Dad?" Mandy asked, making her eyes look larger and more watery, having always been a master of the puppy eyes. "... You two are crazy if you think that this is going to work." Val huffed and crossed her arms, silently swearing to shave her sisters' tails if anyone saw her like this. "It's better than trying nothing!" Candice insisted, paws on her hips. "So you look a little silly for a picture or two? At least you'll actually be helping the family since Dad lost his job." The diapered vixen winced at that. Ever since their father's family photography business went under, financially the family hadn't been doing too well. Val knew this and felt guilty about still trying to pursue her dream career as a model, but had reasoned, at least to herself, that when she made it big, she could help out the family easily. "Plus, there's no way we're not gunna win the contest!" Mandy practically cheered, walking over and scooping the shocked Val into her arms, causing the vixen to let out a yip of surprise. A paw firmly resting underneath Val's padded bottom, Mandy held her sister to her chest, looking down at the fox in her arms. "Val, you're cute. I'm sorry, but you are just ridiculously adorable. Always have been, always will be. And dressed up like a baby? That's multiplying your cute factor by, like, 1,000! Combine that with Dad's skill as a photographer, and we're gunna win that $10,000 grand prize!" Val let out a whine and hung her head. "Ugh... fiiiiine! But after we get this over and done with, we never speak of it again!" Candice giggled and shook her head. "Sorry, baby sister, but this is just too cute not to talk about. Heck, you should consider yourself lucky that we're not gunna ask Dad to make some of the pics into postcards to send out to the rest of the family at Christmas!" Val wanted to argue more, but the gentle rubbing of her back from Mandy was helping her to calm down a bit. Still in her sister's arms, they walked the rest of the way back to their house, the diminutive canid internally grumbling the entire way. * * * "... So let me get this straight," Shaun said, rubbing his temples. The middle-aged fluffy white arctic wolf in the khaki slacks and the light blue polo shirt looked over his three daughters, his eyes zeroing in once again on Valorie, standing there and shuffling her feet nervously, wearing just a pink t-shirt and a diaper; and sighed. "You three saw an ad for the Pawpers company, for a photo contest. With the goal of recreating a classic Pawpers ad from back in the 80s or 90s, and the winner receiving $10,000, you decided that your sister should dress up like a baby and pose for it?" "We know that money is tight right now..." Candice said, rubbing her arm, trailing off at the stern expression on their father's face. "Plus, it's a chance for you to get some more exposure! You're a great photographer, Daddy!" Mandy chimed in, her tail tucking itself between her legs. "A-and with how cute Val is... we'd probably win..." "I think it's a wonderful idea!" Four pairs of eyes snapped to the source of the voice to see another she-wolf, closer in age to Shaun but with the same fur coloration as Candice and Mandy, sitting on the couch, her tail wagging so fast that it was a blur thumping against the cushions. She was wearing a simple white blouse and a pair of well-worn jeans. "Honey?" Shaun looked a bit confused. Celia hopped up from the couch to walk over and scoop Valorie into her arms, cradling and cooing at the vixen. "All my girls are so pretty, but Valorie, you never stopped being as cute as a button like when you were just a little baby girl! Who's a pretty baby princess? Is it you? I think it is!" Val blushed at the cooing and babytalk and was about to voice her own misgivings... when her mother pulled up the pink shirt a bit to start blowing a loud raspberry onto the exposed white fuzzy tummy. Instead, Valorie squealed and giggled and kicked her legs, calming down again only after Celia took a seat with her still in her arms, now rocking the vixen. "That's my precious wittle baby! OOOOOH! If you pose for the pictures, then with your father taking them, we'll be bound to win!" "You really think so, Celia?" Shaun asked, now rubbing his chin and looking thoughtful. "Of course!" "Hmm... what do you think, Val? Are you okay with this whole arrangement?" Shaun asked while walking over and gently prying his smallest daughter away from his wife, with only a bit of a difficulty. He held her up in his paws under her arms. She gave him a sour look before exhaling. "Yeah. Plus, this could be my big ticket to becoming a model." Shaun chuckled and smiled, his fluffy white tail slowly swishing back and forth. "Okay... I start setting up all the props and background and such up in my office. Girls," he said while addressing Candice and Mandy "can I see the ad we'll be recreating?" Mandy nodded and gleefully reached into her back pocket to pull out a rolled up magazine, opening it to the page. Shaun looked it over and looked at Val. "Hmm... well, the outfit's a match. And I think I have just the props. Okay ladies, just give me a few minutes and we can knock this out of the park!" "YAY!" Mandy said, taking Val from their father's arms and setting her against her hip. "Hoo-ray," Val said sarcastically. A short while of being fussed over by her mother and sisters, including Mandy absentmindedly tugging out the back of her diaper for a quick check like she does for little cousin Emma when babysitting, and Shaun returned. Looking excited, he took Valorie into his arms and carried her back to his study, stopping just outside the door. "Are you sure that you're okay with this, pumpkin?" Val looked up into her father's eyes and blushed. "Yeah... I'm sure." Shaun planted a gentle kiss on her forehead and pushed open the door. Val looked around and saw that his desk had been shoved to the side, the magazine open right at the ad. Looking closer from where she was in Shaun's arms, Val could see that the pic was of a little vixen kit standing next to a box of crayons and a coloring book. They had a green crayon in their paw and had drawn some squiggles on the white wall of the room they were in, with the vixen looking back and smiling, only a few milk teeth visible. Above it was the caption. "Babies make messes, one way or another. With Pawpers Heavy-Dooty, you can at least keep the worst of them contained." "Well... I guess it could be worse..." "Yup! There's one ad that takes place in the middle of a diaper change." Shaun set Valorie onto the floor next to a splayed open coloring book and... a box of crayons. Sighing, Val grabbed a simple green one and started to make a squiggle, doing her best to get it to look similar to the one she had just seen. Behind her, she heard her father adjusting equipment and objects. With a couple of clicks, and some brighter lights were now shining on the diapered vixen. "Okay, sweetie. Can you turn to face the camera for a moment?" Val complied, hearing several clicks. "Good job. Now we just need to experiment for a bit with your facial expressions." Doing as she was told, Val made a number of similar expressions, her annoyance slowly rising. However, she figured that as a model, she would have to perform repetitive actions with all sorts of variations all the time, which allowed her to push down any negative emotions and focus only on doing a satisfactory job. "Alright, that was perfect!" Shaun said, heading over to his computer to upload the images from his phone. Taking the hint she didn't need to pose anymore, Val simply plopped down to the hardwood floor on her padded posterior. Getting back to her feet, she waddle-walked over to her father and tried to hop onto his desk like usual. Instead, just as she was ready to hop, he simply picked her up and sat her on his lap. "Here we are, sweetie! The six best pics!" Val looked up at the monitor screen, her eyes going wide. If it weren't for the size difference and having all her adult teeth, she looked like the spitting image of the baby fox from the original ad. Clicking on the bottom middle one, Shaun grinned. "I think we've got a winner, Val! What do you think?" Shun looked down just as Val looked up, his smile proving to be infectious. "I think this one looks the best, Daddy," Val said, pointing to the current enlarged pic. In it, her eyes shone with excitement that, now that she could see it for herself, Val was shocked to find a twinkle of mischief and pure joy on her own face that looked far more genuine that it had felt when she was making the face. One Month Later... "Seriously, Mom?!" Celia looked away from the batch of sugar cookie dough she was rolling to see Valorie looking up at her with a sour expression on her face. Celia was wearing a simple blue sundress, whereas Val was wearing a bright yellow skirt-all over a white t-shirt. The skirt-all had a smiling butterfly on the chest. "What's the matter, sweetie?" Celia asked, concerned. Val simply rolled her eyes before gesturing to her outfit. "Why was this in my closet?!" Val put her paws on her hips. "Hmm? Oh! That was your cousin Emma's favorite play outfit, but thanks to her recent growth spurt, it's too small for her. So your Auntie Kay and Uncle Ryan sent that over." Valorie winced at that. Being the exact same size as her three year old cousin was bad enough, but now learning that said cousin was already bigger than her? It was another point of embarrassment for the vixen. "Well, I'm too old for hand-me-downs! Especially ones that come from younger family members!" Val stomped her foot and looked up at her mother in frustration, but Celia could only chuckle at the cute pout Val was making. "Sweetie, if you don't like it, then why did you put it on?" Val blushed a bit. "All my other clothes are in the laundry! I didn't have anything else to wear." "Well, if it's any consolation, honey, it looks adorable on you." Val crossed her arms and started stomping away. "Does this mean you don't want a cookie? The first batch was cool enough to ice, sweetheart." Val's ears twitched and she did a quick u-turn, stomping her way back to the large she-wolf. Val silently held up a paw, awaiting her promised cookie. "Honey, what do we say?" Celia asked, wagging a finger. Val huffed and rolled her eyes, puffing out her cheeks a bit. "May I please have a cookie?" The vixen was rewarded with a star-shaped treat, green icing slathered on top. She scurried off with it while Celia chuckled. Her ears twitched at the sound of the doorbell suddenly ringing. Having finished off her cookie, unaware that she had some green icing smeared around her muzzle, Val, being nearest the front door, made a beeline right for it. "I got it!" Valorie called out, smoothing out her colorful skirtall before reaching for the door knob. She opened the door to find a gigantic tigress smiling down at her. Val felt her tail tuck itself in between her legs as she felt a sense of authority practically radiating off the much larger feline, who was dressed in a charcoal gray skirt suit. "Oh my goodness," the tigress said with a purr, quickly reaching down and picking Valorie up from under the arms with her massive paws. The vixen felt frozen as the tigress gazed at her. "You look just even more adorable in person!" "Val, baby? Who is it?" Celia asked, walking into the living room. She spotted the large female holding up her littlest girl and rapidly made her way over, practically snatching the vixen away to cradle in her arms. "May I help you?" Celia asked, side-eyeing the stranger. The tigress smiled warmly and extended a paw. "Lisa Stripleton. I'm a representative of Pawpers Inc." After shaking Celia's paw, she handed her a business card with the Pawpers logo on the top right corner. "May I come in?" "Oh, my," Celia said, at a loss for words. She nodded and moved aside to allow the large feline into their home. They got settled on the couch, now with Val sitting on her mother's lap. "First and foremost, I'm here to inform you and your family that your submission for our contest for our up-and-coming Nostalgia line of diapers was selected as the winner and to award you with the ten thousand dollar prize!" Celia was then handed a check that made both her and Valerie do double-takes. "W-we won?" Val asked, receiving a ruffling of her headfur in response. "You sure did, cutie! Why, the picture was such amazing quality, that we're actually interested in offering the photographer a job with our company!" "Wait... WHAT?!" Valorie asked, blown away that this whole hairbrained scheme... actually worked! "That's right, honey-pie! A Mr. Shaun Howler was the photographer, correct?" Lisa turned to ask Celia. Everything about this woman made Val feel so... small. "Is he here?" "H-he's out doing a little grocery shopping with our other daughters," Celia stammered, having subconsciously shifted Val so that she could now start bouncing the vixen on her knee. "Well that's alright. We can make an appointment for a proper meet and greet and see how he feels about becoming a member of the Pawpers team. But, he's not the only one here that we want to extend such an invitation to..." As Lisa trailed off, Val realized that she was looking directly at her. Confused and a little worried, Val looked between her and her mother, before asking her question. "Me? In what way?" Celia also looked confused at the notion, still bouncing Val on her knee. "You were just so precious in that photo that not only are we gunna be printing it onto the new line of diaper packages, but we're also going to print it in all of our newspaper and magazine ad space, and on billboards too!" Val stared with wide, hollow eyes, realizing that her padded butt was going to be posted everywhere publicly. "We would love for you to become one of our brand ambassadors!" That snapped Val back to attention. "Brand Ambassador?" Valorie asked in confusion, looking between her Mom and the tigress. "For Pawpers? B-but, I'm 18!" "Yes, and you are also just cute as a button!" "That she is!" Celia said while her tail thumped the couch. She leaned in closer to Val and gave her a happy squeeze. "Honey, this sounds perfect! You've always wanted to be a model, and now here you are with your big break!" "My... big break?" Val seemed lost in thought for a bit. "Absolutely!" Lisa chimed in. "A potential great stepping stone into a long and lucrative modeling career!" "But I'm an adult!" Val looked up at her mother for some backup, only for Celia to look at her quizzically. The she-wolf then grabbed a tissue from a nearby tissue box and gave it a lick before reaching down to scrub away the green icing smear that was still on the vixen's muzzle. "M-MOM!" Val whined after her face had been cleaned. "Sorry, sweetie, but I forgot how much of a messy eater you can be." Celia chuckled and hugged her daughter to her chest, setting her back down on her lap. Lisa chuckled at the display. "What does a brand ambassador actually... do?" Val asked with narrowed eyes. "Well, for starters, they get to try out all sorts of products made by the brand they represent. They give their input on what they like and don't like, and usually make blogs about the whole experience. When a brand involves clothing and other things to wear, they also model for the brand! And, the best part, this is all done free of charge! You can see how you like being our brand ambassador and, if you find that it isn't for you, you can stop at any time. But, if it turns out you enjoy it, we can go ahead and hire you on properly as one of our little models!" "But... that's all stuff for... babies and toddlers! I can't believe I have to say this again, but I am an adult!" Val huffed and crossed her arms. "Oh honey, the fact that you're a big girl is what makes you so perfect for the role!" "Huh?" Val looked up at the tigress, confused as Lisa let out a small sigh. "It's actually quite the hassle having actual babies as models. I mean, they're babies. You can't exactly give them instructions to follow. If they're feeling fussy, that can end up wasting valuable shooting time. They require just so much care, and then there's the parents. Not all, but a lot of them tend to have rather... unrealistic aspirations for their little ones, even at such early ages. And speaking of, we come to the biggest problem when working with such young ones. They literally grow up so fast! But, as an adult vixen, the perfect size for wolf pup diapers, and not gunna get any bigger... you offer a unique opportunity. A baby model that will stay the same for years to come!" Val thought it over, a part of her unable to believe that she was even remotely entertaining this ridiculous idea. She did reason that the picture of her was going to be seen by everyone anyway, so anyone she knew would likely already be seeing her in a diaper as it was. While this would be more humiliating over time... she would still be breaking onto the modeling scene. And after a few years of playing the baby, she could then move up to perfumes, or something even fancier. Plus, they were offering her Dad a job... and it's not like it could hurt just trying out this brand ambassadorship... "Okay... I-I'll give it a try." "This is so exciting!" Celia practically cheered while Lisa looked pleased. The tigress reached over and ruffled Val's headfur once more. "You made the right choice, honey!" Val rolled her eyes and huffed as her mother cuddled her close. One month later... "I-is this really necessary?" Val asked, laying on the brand new seafoam green changing mat, next to a bunch of boxes with the Pawpers logo that had been delivered earlier that day. She had on a plain white t-shirt and her legs were lifted up by Celia, who was in the process of applying a generous dusting of baby powder. "Absolutely, my sweet little brand ambassador!" The motherly she-wolf cooed and lowered Valorie's legs, letting her bottom come to rest on the surprisingly thick pink and purple diaper. Pulling up the front and taping it snug, it revealed a sleepy-looking crescent moon on the front. A constellation of stars wearing night caps smiled up at the mama wolf from the vixen's padded bottom when she had Val roll over a bit to secure the tail hole tape. "There! All nice and snug and ready for naptime!" "But Mooooom," Val whined, getting up and having to stand even more bow-legged than before, this being a Pawpers thicker sleep diaper. "I'm not even tired!" Celia just booped Val's nose and giggled. "That's okay! You're just trying these products out. For instance, how does your new diaper feel?" "It feels kinda bulky, and makes walking around kinda awkward," Val truthfully said, taking a few unsure steps. "Well, they are pretty much for naptime and bedtime, so running around in them was not really a priority, I imagine." "Again, why do I have to try them on now?" Val was blushing almost as much as when the boxes had arrived. "Well, now that Daddy and your big sisters have finished setting up your new crib, we thought this would be a great opportunity to try it out." "B-but!" "C'mon, sweetie! Just give it a little try now and see how you like it. Then, after, say, ten minutes you aren't fast asleep, you can be let out of your crib!" Val looked up into the warmth emanating from her mother's eyes and sighed, looking away. "Whatever..." "Excellent! Now let's just get you into your jammies and then you'll be all ready for beddy!" Celia reached over into another box and pulled out a bright pink footie onesie, with glittery green butterflies on it. Pulling the zipper down in the back, the mama wolf then sprinkled a pawful of baby powder inside, giving the jammies a bit of a shake. "There! That should make this feel even more comfy and smell nice!" Seeing it being held open for her, Val let out her greatest sigh yet, and stepped into the leg holes, blushing even more as her mother helped pull the sleeves on over Val's arms. With the big bushy and orange tail snugly secured through yet another tail hole, she then gently zipped it right back up, checking to make sure the garment wasn't too tight or restrictive in other areas. Picking Val up into her arms, she then walked over to Val's room, where a pink and white crib sat, a soft mobile dangling right above, displaying plush multi-colored stars. "Would you like a drink, honey?" Her mother asked, to which Val simply shook her head no. "Alright, baby. Now remember our deal?" Val nodded, prompting Celia to smile some more. "So when I come back in fifteen minutes and don't find you asleep, you can run around and play some more." Val rolled her eyes as she was tucked into the soft fleece of the green and blue blanket. Celia then reached up and started the mobile, which began to slowly spin and very quietly play a sweet lullaby. Staying awake for fifteen minutes? No biggie. Val let out a yawn as she watched the spinning stars above. Despite fighting it, her eyelids began to droop, until they closed, and she was laying there in her crib, lightly snoring away. Celia's tail wagged as she watched her youngest daughter sleeping, her heart swelling with joy at having her littlest pup back once more. Leaning down over the rails of the crib, Celia gently kissed Valorie's cheek. "Sweet dreams, my little kit," she said, looking around the room before turning off the light and exiting. Half an hour later, Val groggily woke up, her bladder full. She looked around confused, still half asleep, as she untangled herself from the blanket. Waddling around, trying to find an exit that didn't exist, her bladder reached critical mass, and with her legs pushed apart, she couldn't hold it. Whimpering initially, she calmed down as she felt the sudden release. Sitting with a light squish, Val let out a yawn and allowed the twinkling lullaby still coming from the pretty mobile above to lull her back to sleep. Epilogue... "Oh my goodness! These are all just perfect!" Lisa practically squealed as she looked through the various pictures in the portfolio handed to her. They were all of Val trying out the different Pawpers products. One was of her in just a green t-shirt and one of the thick night diapers, laying on her back fast asleep in her crib. The next was on Val, a Pawper peeking out from the hem of the adorable skirtall as Val, green binky in her mouth, pouted up at the camera from inside a yellow and blue playpen, standing up and clinging to the mesh wall. The next pic must've been taken a few minutes later, as it showed her sitting with her legs splayed, playing with a stacking ring while still in said playpen. The next picture the motherly tigress took a look at was of Valorie, now in just a pink tank-top and one of her Pawpers, sitting in the pink princess-themed high chair they'd sent the family. She had on a blue bib with a ducky on it and was being fed a spoonful of pink baby food by one of her sisters, Mandy. There were already a couple of pink splatters on the bib and a little around her muzzle. Cut to the next photo, which showed Valorie in a bright green dress, the hemline of which only covered the top third of her diaper, as she was clearly trying to open a safety baby gate at the top of some stairs. The next photo was of her in the same outfit, now being given a piggyback ride on Candice's shoulders as the she-wolf walked them down the stairs. The next few were of a family outing at the park. Valorie was looking a little nervous safely buckled in her pink and white stroller. She was hugging a bright white teddy bear with a pink bow tied around its neck, close to her chest. Her headfur had been bunched up into two little pigtails, and she was presently wearing her play skirt-all once more, though her diaper was on full display. There were a couple of pictures of her playing on a jungle gym and some swings. She was sitting on a teeter-totter with a happy-looking little wolf boy on the other end. And the wolf boy along with a little racoon girl in a pink dress and a bear cub in just a yellow shirt and diaper all playing in a sandbox. "Maybe we can get the parents of those children to sign waivers to use these pics they're in," Lisa mumbled to herself, her tail swishing a bit in excitement. She smiled as she looked over the blog Val had set up on their site where her pictures were uploaded, after they were approved by the company. The reviews dating a few weeks back to when Val first started using their products still made the tigress chuckle. The nighttime diapers are too thick to walk around in. But I guess... they do their job really well... The straw berry baby food I guess isn't gross... but I just don't like the texture! It's a little hard to get the juice out of this nursing bottle. I have to start sucking in rhythm to get a steady stream! I guess the blankie and these footie jammies aren't too bad... they're very soft and warm... and it helps me sleep... even if I do have to sleep in a crib! Not that I'm saying I like wearing and using them... but I guess I like the new Playtime diapers the best. I still have to waddle a bit, but not nearly as much as when I have to wear my bedtime diapers. Plus... I guess maybe the butterfly designs are pretty cute. I can't get myself out of my stroller, which is a pain, but I guess that that means it's good at keeping babies safe. When we go see my friends at the park or to playdates though, it gets really annoying having to wait on the grown-ups or my big sisters to let me out so I can go play! Purring a little, Lisa looked at the next picture in line, letting out a coo. "This is definitely going up on the next round of billboards!" She held up the picture which was of Valorie in a pink t-shirt having her diaper changed. It was from the side, and you could see Celia cooing and holding Val's legs up in the air, the clearly used diaper balled up a little bit to the side with a fresh one already set under Val's bottom. Said bottom was obscured by a thick cloud of baby powder that Celia was at that moment dusting her with. "This little cutie is going to be the greatest model we've ever had!" YES! Finally! This idea has been like a splinter in my head the past week or so! I am so happy to finally have it all written out! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it!

YAY! My very first story on this site! This story was made possible by an RP I've been having with my friend, IronTiger26. Enjoy! Special Delivery Chapter 1 Jason sighed contentedly as he entered his dorm room. Practice, while grueling as usual, was still something he found to be enjoyable. He had already stripped off his uniform and dressed in his street clothes, but that was just long enough to get back inside and shut the door. He was quick to rip off his shirt and jeans and just collapse onto his bed in his boxers. He let out a yawn as he looked out the window, seeing the full moon starting to rise in the evening sky. "Strange," he said to no one, "I didn't know that there was a full moon tonight." He let out another yawn and tiredly drifted off to sleep. As he fell asleep, a glowing golden portal opened A giant figure stepped through, gazing down at the sleeping football player. “Aww, you’re perfect, little one.” She whispered, gently picking him up. Jason started to stir, but then drifted into a deeper sleep. He mumbled something about his roommate. The giant smiled, before gently pulling off Jason’s boxers, and letting them fall to the ground, before going back through the portal with the naked collage boy. Jason dreamt of his body flowing like water, and feeling itchy, but still he did not stir. As he slept, far deeper than he had ever before, Jason's ears elongated and flowed to the top of his head. His body which was well and solidly built was becoming more delicate and feminine. He started losing inches, shrinking down from nearly seven feet to an even five. His face became distinctly less human, taking on a much more rabbit appearance, with his nose becoming a small pink button in the sea of light grey fur that started to coat his face. His body continued to become more and more feminine, until he was no longer a he at all. His body also started to become coated in the soft grey downy fur, with white creamy fur covering his belly, his throat, and chin. Then, out of nowhere, a small cottontail sprang forth just above his bottom, it too a creamy white. And finally, his eyes, while closed, became a beautiful bright amethyst. Through all of this, Jason remained asleep. The next morning, the sun rose into what appeared to be a nursery, the walls bright pink and a playpen was in the right corner, filled to the brim with plushes and dolls. On the opposite side lay a wardrobe and a changing table, a mirror next to it. Sunlight shined into the center of the room, waking up the sole occupant of the room, who lay in a pink crib, just big enough to hold them that was across from a giant door. Jason yawned and stretched, not taking any notice of the squishy bulk between his legs. Jason opened his eyes, and started to look around, thinking about heading down to get a coffee... and then let out an ear-splitting high-pitched shriek. Shortly after, Jason’s new ears picked up several heavy thuds outside, before the door swung open, revealing a giant tigress, dressed in a soft white blouse and jeans. “Are you okay, sweetie? Mommy heard you screaming!” She said as she entered, walking right up to the bars of the crib. Jason squeaked at the sight of the giant tigress, shrinking back against the bars of her crib. "Wh-what are you?!" The tigress crouched down a bit so her size didn’t scare Jason as much. “It’s okay, little one. My name is Helia.” "What ARE you?!" Jason looks around for an escape route, suddenly aware of his surroundings. "Is this a nursery?" “I’m a tigress, honey-bunny. And it’s not just any nursery.” She reaches in, and boops Jason’s nose. “It’s YOUR nursery, sweetie.” Jason recoils from the touch. "Why am I here? How did I get here?" “I brought you here last night. And I used a portal to bring you to your new home.” She said, matter-of-factly, as though it were the most normal thing in the world. "Wha... THIS CAN'T BE REAL! AND YOU CAN'T DO THAT! ...AND I'M NOT A BABY!" Jason cried out. She gives Jason a motherly smile. “Well of course I can, sweetie. After filling out all of the proper paperwork for the adoption, I then went and collected you.” "I SAID I'M NOT BABY!!!" Helia smiled, standing up and going over to the dresser, pulling out a mirror, before returning to the crib and pulling down one of the sides “If you aren’t a baby...” She held the mirror in front of Jason, revealing his new form to him. “...Then who’s this little cutie pie?” Jason froze as he looked at himself. He was wearing a pink footed sleeper, with a very obvious diaper bulge. He looked at the very clearly adult female bunny staring back at him. "B-but... I'm a human... and a man... and I'm... STILL an adult!" Only then did Jason fully register her newly feminine voice. Helia giggled, reaching over and petting Jason on her head, inbetween her ears “I’m sorry, sweetie. But I’m afraid you simply aren’t any of those things anymore.” "B-but, I've got boobs now! ... Why am I girl and a bunny now?" Still gently petting her, Helia said. “Well, I’m afraid humans simply don’t exist in this world, so by bringing you here, you turn into whatever your favorite animal is. I see you liked bunnies then, hmm?” "They are cute, yeah, but... STOP TOUCHING ME! And take me home right now!" Jason stomped his foot, pouting when he was trying to look serious and angry. Helia reluctantly stopped petting Jason, and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry sweetie, but this is your new home. It's just not possible for you to go back. Don't worry though, you'll soon start having so much fun." "Y-you're a monster!" Jason said, his eyes tearing up. Helia gave a sympathetic look, before laying the mirror to the side, crouching down on her knees, and pulling the bunny in for a hug, her chin resting on the tigress’ shoulder. “There, there sweetheart. Let it out.” She said as she began to gently rub Jason’s back. Jason tried to thrash and escape. But she was far easily overpowered, and could do nothing more than sob into her shoulder. "Y-you ruined my life!" She hiccuped. Rubbing and patting the crying bunny’s back, whose ears have drooped down. Helia looked down at Jason. “I’m sorry, honey. But there’s nothing I can do. For humans coming into our world, it's a one-way trip only.” "Let me go! I'm not a baby! I'm still an adult!" Jason insisted. She gently pulls Jason away, gazing into the former football player's ready eyes. "Would you like some breakfast, sweetie?" "I just wanna leave!" “Honey, I already told you. There's no going back, it just isn't possible for you." "Then let me leave this house!" “Sorry, honey, but I can’t do that.” She presses against the bulge under the sleeper, making a squish that was audible to both of them. She looked the bunny in the eyes again and smiled. “Unless you want to waddle around in a wet diaper all day, would you like me to change you?” Jessica let out an adorable squeak. "Y-you musta drugged me!" Helia shook her head, and said. “I would never drug a baby, especially my own little girl." She emphasized this with another playful nose boop, which Jason frantically tried to bat away. "You're a baby now, honey-bunny, and babies need their diapies just for this reason." "NO! I REFUSE TO ACCEPT THIS!" Jason tries to thrash and kick. “Honey, calm down or you might-" All of a sudden, Jason feels a pressure in her stomach, that then quickly disappears. She shifts about, and feels her now full diaper. "N-no..." Jason says. “Oh honey...you made a mess, didn’t you...” Jason then immediately bursts into tears. Helia quickly stood up, attempting to soothe the bunny as she cried, rocking her back and forth as she held her in her arms. “Please calm down, sweetie. I’ll get you out of that nasty thing.” She said as she began to walk to the changing table. "I'm not a baby!" Jason cried, unaware of where she was being carried. Helia decided not to argue further on that matter. All off-world adopted babies are like this, it’s only a matter of time before she accepted it too. At least, that's what Helia told herself. She gently laid her baby bunny down. Jason tried to roll over and hop off the table, only to be caught by Helia, who rolled the bunny back in place, holding her down as she looked into her eyes again. “Sweetie, do you WANT to stay in your dirty diaper?” "I WANT to leave!" Helia sighed, unzipping the sleeper while Jason squirmed before she managed to pull it off. She continued to hold down Jason, and pulled a strap over the bunny's tummy, securing it with a buckle in the other side. Jason looked down in dismay at her small chest, and then at the very well used diaper with the pink trim. She tried unbuckling the strap, but her paw-hands couldn't work it, so she resorted to just kicking with her legs. Helia got to work, while the legs kicked uselessly at her. Untaping the diaper and removing it from Jason’s waist. Jason squealed a the cold wipes being used, and her nose started to tickle from the smell of the baby powder. She looked down in horror once, to confirm that she was indeed now a girl, just in time for the fresh diaper to be carefully taped on. Securing the new diaper on, this one pink like the walls of the nursery, Helia unstrapped the bunny, before picking her up and holding her under her arms in front of her. “That wasn’t so bad, was it Jessica?” "That was humiliating! I was just changed like a baby and... wait, what did you call me?" Helia smiled, looking the shocked, nearly naked bunny in the eyes. “Jessica. It’s your new name, honey.” "MY NAME IS JASON NOW LET ME DOWN AND LET ME OUT OF THIS CRAZY HOUSE!" “As adorable as it would be to see you run around in just a diaper, honey-bunny, I need to let you have at least one thing covering you besides that.” She carried the thrashing bunny over to the wardrobe, and “Jessica” froze at the sight of what was inside. "What's with all the pink girly dresses?" Jessica asked in a suddenly nervous voice. "I guess I may have gone a little bit overboard. We just got so excited when we learned we were going to be getting a little girl." "I don't care what I look like! I'm a guy! And I'm not wearing any damn girly clothes or any baby clothes!" Jessica said, crossing her arms. Helia sighed, before reaching in and pulling out a simple pink shirt, the words Mommy’s Little Princess across it. “I’m sorry, Jessie. But I’m afraid this is the only thing not as ‘girly’ as the others in your size.” Jessica growled. "Just give me that, some pants, and then I'm out of here." Helia froze. “...oh. That’s what I forgot to grab at the store...” "I am so done with this whole damn place!" Jessica said as she reached for the shirt. Helia simply held out the shirt, letting the bunny take it. Jessica struggled to get it on, while simultaneously trying to escape the tigress' grasp. Helia put Jessica on the floor, making sure to keep an eye on her. Jessica struggles some more, thanks to her ears, before finally popping her head through the hole. She frowned as the shirt stopped just short of the waistband of her diaper. She then started to march towards the nursery door. Helia walked ahead of Jessica, opening the door and walking out, leaving it open for the bunny to follow her. Jessica threw a frown the tigress' way, and looked around out in the hall. She spotted what looked like the front door, and continued walking towards it, amazed at how much bigger everything was. Helia noticed Jessica, and called out. “You can go exploring the backyard in a little while, honey-bunny. Let's see about getting some food into your tummy first." Jessica growled and stamped her foot, before turning around. Helia simply waited for the toddler-sized adult to catch up, and led her to the living room, which was also connected to the kitchen. Jessica started to walk past, heading for the door. Jessica got to the door, and found that the knob was out of her reach. So she jumped up to grab at it. Helia turned and saw her just as she grabbed it “Jessica? Are you trying to go outside?” "Uh, duh! I said I'm outta here! AND MY NAME'S JASON!" Jessica said, turning the knob. “Oh, no you’re not, young lady!” She started walking over, right as the door cracked open ever so slightly. Jessica hopped down and was about to bolt outside. Right as Jessica started to run, Helia managed to grab the back of her diaper, stopping the bunny right as she got outside, letting her at least see what lay beyond the front door. Jessica leaned forward as the back of her diaper was pulled on, holding her in place. Outside she could see many of these anthro giants, and most had children and babies with them. Many of the babies, upon closer inspection, looked like there were in the same boat as herself, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. With a tug, Jessica fell back into a strong pair of arms that scooped her up. Helia marched back inside, firmly shutting the door and applying the bolt lock, which if she was on the ground, was just out of Jessica’s reach. The tigress held the bunny up and looked her in the eyes. “I really don’t want to as it’s your first day here, but if you try to run away again, you’re getting a spanking, young lady.” "You can't do this to me!" “I’m sorry, but you're just too young to go running around outside unsupervised.” "I'M NOT A BABY! I'M IN COLLEGE!" Jessica tries to punch her, to no avail. Helia furrowed her brow, before putting the bunny in one hand, and giving Jessica a light spank, which giving her size still hurt a fair amount. Jessica yelped, and then looked up at the tigress in shock. “Do I need to give you more, or is that enough to get you to behave, Jessie?” Jessica whimpered, feeling completely powerless, and recoils a little before meekly nodding. Helia smiled, before putting the bunny into a cradling position, rocking her back and forth. “Mommy’s sorry if she hurt or scared you, Jessie. How about this, if you promise to behave, I’ll find you a playmate who was just like you once. Okay? That should go a long way to helping you to adjust.” "P-please, just let me go." Jessica whimpered. Helia gave the bunny a look, noticing her hand was slowly finding its way to her mouth “I’m sorry, honey-bunny, but the answer is no. Now please try to relax. I promise that we're going to make sure you have a wonderful and happy life here." Jessica's paw was in her mouth, and she started to chew on it, unaware of even doing so. "B-but, I'm nowt a baybee," she said around her paw. Helia continued to rock Jessica back and forth. Helia held the bunny closer, still rocking her back and forth “I know this is a shock to you, Jessie. But this has been done for years. There are a lot of other babies like you.” "I sayd Iwm nowt a baybee!" “And I said you’re not the only one here, Jessie. For a bunny, you’re not a very good listener, sweetie.” "Nethew awe yoo!" Helia rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the response. “Well, Jessie. You’re in diapers, you’re the size of a toddler, you needed a change earlier because you messed yourself, you’re being extremely fussy, and you’re sucking your thumb right now. Are you still sure you aren’t a baby? Because you’re a really good actor if you aren’t.” Jessica paused and looked down at her paw, pulling it out and blushing as she wiped it on her shirt. "I don't know what that was about, but there's lots of adults who are incontinent, that doesn't make them babies! And my size shouldn't matter either!" Helia sighed “Just because you’re an adult there, doesn’t mean your one over here, Jessie.” "That's insane!" Jessica argued, before her stomach let out a rumble. Helia smiled “You hungry, Jessie?” Clearly changing the subject. "N-no," Jessica lied, just before her stomach let out another growl. Helia laughed, before standing up. “Mama’s hungry too. Let’s get something to eat.” Jessica grumbles as she was carried, and then frowned when she saw the bright pink high chair with the word "Princess" blazoned on the back. "Please tell me I don't have to sit in that thing." "Well of course, honey-bunny. It'll keep you nice and safe." Jessica grumbled some more as she was set down into it and buckled in with the five point harness. Then the white tray was locked into place. Petting her again, Helia said “Normally, you’d need to eat baby food. But since this is your first day, I’ll let you choose what you get to eat. Cut up, of course. What do you want, sweetie?” Jessica made a gross face at the sound of babyfood, and then thought it over. She let out a sigh. "Can I have some pizza?" "Of course, my precious little princess." Helia said. Helia pulled out her phone and dialed up a local pizza restaurant and placed an order for a pepperoni and olive pizza. “While we wait, would you like to talk a bit, sweetie? Get to know each other?” "Fine, am I essentially your prisoner here for the rest of my life?" “Only until you’re a fully grown woman, honey. But you’re not a prisoner, you’re my adopted baby.” "So wait, being a short adult with boobs doesn't count?" “No, I’m afraid that’s just how your body looks when you come through. You're body went through a lot of changes, but it couldn't quite get all of them done at once. So while you changed gender and species, it's going to take a little bit for your body to catch up to your new age. Basically, you're going to be going through reverse puberty, Jessie.” "So I'm getting younger?!" Jessica said in disbelief. “That’s the simple way of saying it, yes.” "This is crazy!" “Around here, Jessie, it’s normal. Like I said, we have a lot of other babies around here like you.” "I don't care what you say, I'm not a baby!" Jessica's diaper crinkles as she adjusts herself in her high chair. “Do you really want to keep arguing, or would you like to know about the others, honey?” "... Fine... we can have an adult to adult conversation," Jessica said, her stomach growling once more, just before she found a pink bib with a yellow duckie on it gently tied around her neck. “You might have seen some of them earlier, in fact. Did you see a little red panda girl out there?” "Uh... I think so, and I don't need a bib!" “It’s just for if you do, sweetie. And her name is Betty, if you were wondering. I could introduce the two of you sometime.” "I don't know why, but alright I guess. And just for if I do what?" “Oh, you two will get along great! And it's just in case. Well, and because your new daddy picked them out himself, and hes going to be so excited to see you wearing them.” Helia said, taking a quick picture of Jessica in her high chair. "Oh crap, there's another crazy giant in this house?" “He’s not crazy. And yes, he's your new daddy, sweetie. He helped me decorate your nursery.” "So yeah, another crazy giant wanting to treat me like a baby," Jessica winced some more from her apparent hunger pangs. The pizza arrived shortly afterwards, and all too soon, Jessica was staring at a pizza larger than any she had ever seen before. A few moments later, Helia laid out giant slices of pizza, setting it in the center of the table. “Would you like me to cut it up some, sweetie?” "Each slice is as big as my head... so fine I guess...." Helia hummed to herself as she cut it up, eventually cutting two of the slices into plenty of tiny pieces, before putting them on a plate and putting it on the white tray. “It’s hot, Jessie. Would you like some milk with it?” "I'm not a baby! I don't need milk!" Jessica firmly said, crossing her arms. "I'll take a soda, thank you very much!" She then picked up one of the slices with her new hand-paw and blew on it, before trying to eat it. Since she was working with an unfamiliar hand-paw, and since her mouth was shaped differently, she got quite a bit of sauce on her lips and chin. Helia smiled, watching Jessie prove she did, in fact, need a bib. “Again, as this is your first day, it’s your choice. What’s your favorite?” "Got any cream soda?" Jessica said, taking another piece and smearing some more sauce on her cheeks and chin, some dribbling down onto her bib, unbeknownst to her. Helia went over to the fridge and opened it, looking inside. “Let’s see...is this it?” She pulled out a can that looked like one from back home, the design very familiar to the former human. "Uh... y-yeah... that's huge!" Helia placed the can on the table next to the high chair, Jessie continuing to marvel at its size. She went over to the cupboard and opened it, looking around inside. “...Oh, dear.” "What?" Jessica said around her most recent bite, dribbling some more sauce down her chin onto her bib. Helia pulled out a small glass cup, which was still gigantic compared to the bunny. “This is the smallest cup we have, Jessie.” "Ah geeze, that's huge!" Helia put it back, continuing to look, before she glanced at Jessie. “...I did find one just your size, but I don’t think you’re going to like it, sweetie.” She said, before she pulled out a baby bottle. "You're right, I don't!" Jessica said, crossing her arms and frowning, making an adorable pouty face, especially considering how messy said face is. Helia couldn't help but snap another quick picture, which just made Jessica pout even more. “I’m sorry, honey. But this is all we have. I can leave the rubber nipple off if you want, but you might spill it.” "Whatever, just so long as it's not a baba.... BOTTLE!" Jessica said, clapping a paw over her mouth. Helia caught that, and simply smiled. “How about this, sweetie. I’ll have you drink out of your baba this one time, and if you don’t like it, I’ll buy a few plastic cups for your size, okay?" "... Fine... but don't expect me to enjoy drinking from my baba-- BOTTLE! From a bottle, I meant to say!" Jessica corrected herself, wondering what was wrong with her. Helia smiled, before taking off the tray and unbuckling the bunny, before lifting Jessie up and cradling her once more. "Wait, what're you doing?" She poured the soda into the bottle, filling it up, before putting the rubber nipple on it, then holding it in front of the bunny’s mouth, which was covered in pizza sauce. “Drink up, sweetie pie.” Jessica opened her mouth to object. Helia smiled, and pushed the nipple into her mouth, which caused Jessie to suckle a bit on accident, making Jessica want to struggle, but a suckle reflex kicked in, and she was unable to. She kept suckling it, growing more and more relaxed, until she entered a trance-like state, curling up, letting her head rest on Helia's chest, the sound of her heartbeat further soothing her. Helia smiled, cooing at the adorable sight of her baby suckling away on her bottle, looking as innocent as an actual infant as she was rocked in her mommy’s arms. Eventually the bottle ran dry, and she kept on suckling the now empty bottle. Helia wanted to let the bunny keep sucking on her bottle, but she knew it had to end. She reluctantly pulled the bottle out of Jessica’s mouth, smiling at seeing that she continued to make a suckling motion even with it gone. Jessica's thumb replaced the bottle, before she started to whine and clutch her tummy. Helia cooed at her, before putting the bunny over her shoulder, and gently patted her back. Jessica started to come out of the trance, still whining about the stomach ache. "I'm not a baby, I don't need to be bur--BEEEEEEEEEELCH" it was a very loud burp, that included a small bit of spit-up, that Jessica took no notice of at all. Helia smiled, before returning the bunny to her previous position. “There you go, Jessie. Does that feel better?” "...Yes" Jessica said, reluctantly, unable to meet Helia's eyes. Jessica blushed as she was held, and cuddled, completely oblivious to her diaper growing warmer as she wet herself. Helia smiled, feeling the diaper getting warm. “Would you like to take a warm bath, honey?” "I can wash myself." “Okay, but just in case.” She went over to the sink, putting a plug in it before turning the water on, making sure it was warm while it went down the second drain. "Oh come on!" Jessica whined, realizing that she was going to be washed in the sink like a baby. "I'm not a baby!" Helia just smiled and hummed as she let the warm water start to fill up the sink, already a bottle of baby shampoo nearby.