furry The Trinket [Comm]

[Horatio Husky]

9 minutes ago, dmavn said:

sneaks in and steals his changing table…

Me and you both!

[Illuvian]

I decided to start reading this on my day off, and I didn't realize I was blitzing through the entire thing until I was already done.

Love the set up and the slow burn of the talisman's decisions, as far as public stuff is concerned. Whatever intelligence is guiding it knows how to push and massage boundaries very well. Situations that are explainable, believable enough for the people that need to be persuaded, and all the while benchmarks are being set that will make it impossible to go back.

Oh it's fantastic and I'm excited to see what is coming up!

[Horatio Husky]

Chapter Twenty-Five

Snack Run

 

Winter that year had come with an unexpected advantage. Despite the fennec’s natural fur coat, the arid sands from which his species originated had not accounted for the inevitable global expansion into much chillier climates. Now, garbed in sweatpants and a goose-feather coat, Hunter now at least did not have to worry too much about being discreet with his padding. 

 

The fennec was standing in line at the local convenience store, his reusable shopping bag having been filled with an assortment of snacks he was sure his mother would have had a few words about. He’d work his way through them before the university cafeteria opened up, having decided that he might as well treat himself a little before the next semester started. 

 

Malissa was still on a cruise with her family, and Jack would be back in town in the next two days. 

 

Hunter eyed the shelves of arrayed salty and savory snacks, knowing full well that the moment Jack came over to his place the snacks would begin to disappear at an accelerated rate. Grabbing a few more bags and stuffing them into his bag, he took a step forward now waiting second in line. His mind must have been particularly distracted by the thoughts of his weasel friend eating him out of the house, his gut lurching as he felt something snag the waistband of his pants. 

 

The fennec’s eyes bulged, his jaw dropping open in shock as he felt the elastic band of his sweats snap, spilling his pants onto the floor of the drug store into a depressed heap around his ankles. The panther hieroglyph now on full display on the front of his diaper, his cheeks reddened as it took him a second to realize the sound of tearing fabric had been quite loud. He looked up sheepishly, figuring that he must have caught the attention of the shoppers around him. 

 

Instead they stood, as they were, politely ignoring him as they waited for their turn in the queue. Hunter stared at one of them, a rather scrawny looking antelope teen who was holding a large Icee. Eventually, the antelope returned the look, raising an eyebrow but maintaining eye contact with the fennec. Realizing that he might have appeared rude, Hunter quickly turned around and faced forward once more. The bison in front of him had checked out, and Hunter took a crinkly stride forward to address the chipmunk behind the cash register. 

 

“Cash or card?”

 

The chipmunk squeaked, not taking any notice of the fact that Hunter’s padded, and now slightly soaked, was in full view. Hunter glanced behind him for a moment, looking at his ruined sweatpants in utter confusion before he turned back to the clerk. 

 

“Uh, debt.”

 

He mumbled, dumping out the contents of his bag and allowing the chipmunk to routinely scan them, the rodent’s buck teeth flashing momentarily as he stifled a yawn. 

 

How is nobody reacting? It’s like I’m invisi-

 

Hunter looked down and stared pointedly at the panther covering his crotch. Of course, there was something different about the hieroglyph covered diapers, but this development was most unexpected. If there was one point of consistency when it came to the magical power of the brooch, it was that it seemed determined to shout to the entire world around him that he was a little kit. Now, for whatever reason, it appeared that the trinket’s influence had instead decided to spare him the inevitable humiliation he had come to expect. 

 

Experimentally, Hunter swung his tail from side to side, eliciting a round of obnoxious, plastic crinkling from the seat of his diaper as he did so. He glanced behind him, having just given the customers behind him a full show of the state of his padding. Nothing, no reaction. 

 

“That’ll be thirty-eight seventy-six please.”

 

The chipmunk chittered, after which Hunter hastily paid and stuffed his collection of snacks back into his grocery bag. The bell of the front door jingled behind him as he stepped back onto the street, a couple blocks from his apartment. As the wind blew between his spindly legs, which were now feeling particularly chilly save for a small part of his inner thighs insulated by his padding, he trudged forward towards his flat. None of the passersby paid him any mind, a fact for which he was feeling surprisingly grateful. 

 

He was still cold, however, and was frantically rubbing his thighs as he walked up the stairwell and back into the welcome warmth of his apartment. 

 

𓅹 𓅢 𓅸 

 

Hunter stood in front of the enchanted changing table, internally reminding himself not to hop up on its surface so as to not activate the helping hands that would no doubt be all too keen to change him. Stooping, he sorted through the hieroglyphic diapers and picked one from each type of symbol. There were several cougars, ones he hoped would be regularly magically restocked given their incredible potential to maintain his peace of mind. There appeared to be three other types of hieroglyphic diapers. One which looked like three water fowl sitting in a boat, another which appeared to be a baby bird, and the last appeared to be a crook and flail which he recognized from his previous research. 

 

𓃮 𓅹 𓅷

 

The word ‘cygnet’ bubbled up to the front of Hunter’s mind as he looked over the baby bird symbol, wondering whether his guess as to what kind of spell this particular rune would cast was accurate. 

Hunter eyed the other three diapers suspiciously, unsure of whether they would end up with favorable outcomes as the panther had done. Unless he abstained from the hieroglyphic diapers entirely, which might not necessarily be possible given the haunted nature of the changing table, he would likely find out their various enchantments soon enough. 

Taking his phone out, he took a picture of each of the diapers and opened up Malissa’s texts messages. Feeling a little sheepish sending his friend pictures of his diapers, he saw that she had replied to the original message regarding the panther. 

Panther, yup. Meaning sneaky, stealthy, quiet, unseen.

Before sending the images, Hunter replied promptly. 

I believe it, given the fact that the chip stand at the drug store decided to pants me and nobody noticed the giant Egyptian themed pillow on my butt.

Sending the photos off with a question prompting further translation, Hunter put his phone away and removed the diapers from the surface of the changing table. Behind him, he felt something grope the back of his soaked padding. Hunter squeaked, whirling around to see that one of the clawed ghost paws appeared spontaneously behind him. It vanished a second later, having apparently come to the conclusion that the fennec diaper could still withstand an accident or two. 

Sighing in relief that he was not about to be accosted by several pairs of ghostly paws, he returned his attention to the shelves of diapers beneath the surface of the changing table and took out his favorite brand. The various pampered pups, kittens, and cubs grinned up cheekily at him, playing with their various infantile toys as they crawled over the surface of the plastic covering. Despite the knowledge of the curse’s influence, Hunter harbored a particular fondness for this brand of padding. Hoping that this would influence the will of the ghost hands when bedtime came around, Hunter deposited the pamper meaningfully on the center of the changing table’s surface. 

 

As he headed into the living room, his phone buzzed. Opening it, he read through Malissa’s response. 

 

The first two will require some research as to their meaning, other than the obvious I guess. However, the last one is a pretty famous symbol: the Crook and Flail. Basically, they’re weapons when crossed that represent royal authority and power. 

 

Hunter waited as Malissa typed out another response, instinctively reaching down to squeeze the front of his diaper to check just how wet it was. He hoped he could hold off on a change until just before bed. 

 

As in you managed to cover it up?

 

The fennec took a moment to type out a response. 

 

No, like everyone could have seen it in plain sight but nobody appeared like they noticed. So either the brooch duped me or it duped everyone around me.

 

Three small dots appeared on Hunter’s messenger app as Malissa wasted no time in typing up another response. 

 

Snap a picture of it and send it to me.

 

Hunter grimaced, looking down at the front of his diaper where the hieroglyph had faded slightly from the amount that he had already peed into it. Sending a picture of his padded front to one of his close friends, despite one that was in the loop on what was happening to him, made him feel more than a little self-conscious. Hunter bit his lip, trying not to think too much about just how excited the prospect made him feel in addition to his initial shyness. Deciding that taking the initiative and simply sending her a picture would probably be the best way not to make a big deal out of the request, he did so. 

 

He waited a minute, barely breathing as he wondered whether or not the trinket’s magic would translate through a picture on his phone. A second later, Malissa’s response came. 

 

Uhh, you need to take your pants off first for me to see it. 

 

Hunter reread the message several times in disbelief. The influence of the hieroglyphic diapers clearly covered all of their bases, which made the poor fennec all the more apprehensive to try out the other ones without knowing what they would do. He responded quickly. 

Still not wearing any, whatever you’re looking at isn’t the picture I took if you see any pants on me. 

The otter responded. 

Okay, yikes. I guess good luck with the other ones? 

Hunter typed. 

Yeah…

Lastly, Malissa responded. 

I’ll look up the other ones tonight and let you know if there’s anything sus about them.  

Leaning back down on his couch, his stomach grumbling, he moved himself over on the cushion until he faced the kitchen where he could just see his plastic grocery bags sitting on the counter.  In classic college fashion, he would probably not have a meal more substantial than box Mac N’ Cheese until the campus cafeteria opened. He turned his head over to the wooden box on the mantelpiece, idly musing to himself. 

If only this thing could conjure up three-course meals for me and maybe do my house-cleaning for me…

He griped silently to himself, eventually gathering the motivation to push himself off of his couch and rifle through the grocery bags. He was feeling lazy, and with about five days left of his winter break before the semester started he was not exactly in a hurry to maintain a productive mindset until he had to. Having checked his inbox on his phone finding no syllabi sent earlier, he flopped back down on the couch with a large bag of cheese curls. 

He began browsing through the channels on his TV, consciously avoiding the children’s channels as he tried to bring his mind off of the daunting prospects of the upcoming semester. Hunter had confidence that he would be able to pull off a similarly well put-together GPA this semester, same as last given the fact that he now knew what he was going up against. 

Paying little attention to what was happening on the screen, the full weight of what he was going to have to deal with hit him. Hunter took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he tried to calm himself down. 

This is going to be a lot for me to handle…

He mused to himself, reaching for a stuffed red panda plushie that had been reclining on the opposite end of the couch. Hugging it, the fennec suddenly felt very small. This was not the kind of small the brooch was intending either. College grades, a social life, and contending with the fact that reality altering ‘magic’ was real. The latter was something he had not even fully digested for fear of becoming overwhelmed with panic and existentialist dread. 

Where do my physics and chemistry courses even fit into all this?

He stopped himself, knowing the cliff he was looking over. He sighed again, wondering whether or not he should have picked up something stronger from the drugstore to treat himself with. 

Having been idly clicking through the channels, Hunter saw that Blue’s Clues was playing on one of the channels. Deciding that it would be best not to dwell on the possibility that this was somehow the trinket’s doing, he selected the episode.

“Bah bow!”

Blue cheerfully exclaimed from the television speakers, and Hunter nestled himself down further onto his couch. He would let his mind drift for now. Tomorrow’s problems would be tomorrow’s, after all.

[Panther Cub]

Hmmm... I think Hunter needs to give each of the diaper designs a try to figure out which one is the most stylish!

[Horatio Husky]

Chapter Twenty-Six

Syllabus Week

 

The ghost paws had made this decision to place Hunter in his regular, babyfur-themed diapers for the rest of the week. The fox had little trouble hiding them due to the weather, as wearing several layers including flannel pants had made it relatively easy for him to hide his choice of crinkly underwear. Having no publicly embarrassing moments visiting the convenience, school supply, and bookstore leading up to the first day of class, he had mentally prepared himself for a surprise when he woke up wet a few hours before his organic chemistry class. 

 

The paws had lovingly unfolded a fluffed one of the hieroglyphic diapers that morning, specifically the one that had the three cygnets on the front. He had been nervous, unknown magic would be a part of his day that he would likely have to deal with. That was why when three ghostly Egyptians were looking up at him next to his changing table, he knew that his unexpected interruption to his life had arrived. The fox had stared back at them, unsure of how to react at the sudden appearance of the ethereal creatures. One of them strode over to the backpack he had prepared that morning, looping its long bill through one of the straps to pick it up before waddling over to him expectantly. 

 

The fox sighed, taking it from the bird and looping it around his shoulders before putting on a bare pair of insulative pants. From the look of it, he would have three companions accompanying him throughout the rest of the day. The ibises appeared to have minds of their own, pecking at random bits of trash as he had walked down the street from his apartment, invisible to all except him. It was only when he walked into his organic chemistry class was he surprised to not only find Jack waving at him cheerfully from the bench, but to see the weasel tilt his head questioningly at the birds that were waddling after him as he took a seat next to his friend. 

 

“Dude, what are those things?”

 

Hunter shook his head, taking out his grotesquely thick textbook and letting it thump down on the table in front of him. 

 

“What do you think, they’re my back-up dancers.”

 

The fox had quipped, no hint of humor in his voice as he turned to face the front of the classroom, trying to ignore as one of the ibises fluttered up to the book and began to peck at the cover of his textbook. He raised a paw to shoo it away, to which it squawked indignantly before flying off the desk once more. Jack had given him a weak smile, eyeing them with suspicion as he looked around to gauge whether anyone else was reacting. It appeared that the apparitions were visible only to him and Hunter, as the fox did his best to ignore their curious venturings to various corners of the classroom. 

 

“Are they like here to stay, or…”

 

Jack trailed off, and Hunter told him what he figured was the most accurate answer he could come up with. 

 

“They came with my… Uhh… ‘morning change.’”

 

Flexing his fingers to create air quotes, he opened the front of his textbook and began perusing the notes on the first chapter. After reading a few equations, feeling relieved to find some familiarity with the topic of hydrocarbon rings it was discussing, he turned his head without taking his eyes off the page as he asked his friend. 

 

“So, what are you doing in Orgo?”
 

He raised an eyebrow at the weasel, just as one of the ibises hopped up on the desk once more and tilted its head inquisitively at Jack. Jack eyed it suspiciously, before turning to respond sheepishly to Jack. 

 

“Uh… You know, learning.”

 

Hunter looked at him, smirking slightly as he assessed the weasel’s apparent discomfort. As any college student knows, this particular branch of chemistry was renowned for being particularly unforgiving for students with bad study habits. The fact that Jack had had the grades last semester to even make it into this class was an achievement in and of itself. The fennec continued staring at him, until at last the weasel gave in to the scrutinizing stare. Sighing, he opened his textbook disdainfully and began to imitate Hunter’s perusing as he responded

 

“If I manage to pass this class, they’ll double the credit value for it and mark off a D on my chemistry course last semester. I had to practically beg them for this deal, and I think they found it amusing when they finally agreed to it. My counselor looked pretty entertained.”

 

“I’ll say, you know this is a weed out class right?”

 

Jack swallowed, looking up nervously to stare at an ibis at the far end of the room who was busying itself by dumpster diving into a recycling bin. He responded, his voice unsure. 

 

“Yeah… I’m going to need to study… And maybe look at your notes again, if that’s alright.”

 

Hunter shook his head in mock disapproval, the corner of his muzzle turning upwards as he gave the weasel and assessing look. Jack caved until his gaze, placing his paws out in a silent plea as he continued. 

 

“Come on man, if I don’t pass I’ll lose my scholarship and might even be held back a semester. This is serious.”
 

“You have a scholarship!?”

 

Hunter said, his ears pinning to his head in surprise as he stared at the weasel. His friend’s discomfort did not lesson, as he continued to monitor the ibis that was currently engaging him in a staring match. 

 

“Yes, I do. Anyway, so what are these guys all about anyway?”

 

Hunter shrugged, reaching forward to touch one on the bill experimentally. The bird looked back at him in what could only be described as an offended expression, hopping away from him and shuffling its feather agitatedly. 

 

“I don’t know, maybe it’s kind of like a fluke spell or something. Or maybe it's just outdated, like it might have been relevant way back when or whatever. They don’t really seem to do much other than be kind of annoying. They came from the hieroglyph on my… Yeah…”

 

Jack nodded, reaching into his bag and taking out a granola bar. Unwrapping it, he broke off a piece before crumbling it in his paw. He glanced around briefly to see whether anybody else was looking at him before dropping a few crumbs onto the ground. One of the ibises caught wind of this offering, waddling forward and leaning down to tilt its head and inspect the goods. Clicking its beak once, it turned away disdainfully before inserting its long, curved beak into Jack’s bookbag. 

 

“They’re ghosts dude.”

 

Jack looked a little annoyed, responding back sarcastically.

 

“Wow, real scientist over here.”

 

A second later, the front door to the classroom opened to reveal a tigress walking through. A thin pair of half-moon spectacles rested on the bridge of her nose, her auburn fur quite the sight as the classroom quieted down as she entered. Placing her briefcase on the table at the front of the class, she picked up a piece of chalk and began to write. After writing her name and the university from which she got her PhD: “Yurvik University” she turned to address the class. 

 

“Hello everyone, I’m Dr. Zadira. Three times a week, we shall be meeting in this room and discussing worksheets, lab assignments, and exam prep. There will be six exams, each of which comprising 15% of your final grade. They will be cumulative. The remaining 10% of your grade will be homework and lab results.”

 

Jack kneaded his paws in his lap, surprising a groan as he heard the stringency of the grading rubric for this class. With 90% of the grade being test-based, performing on each consecutive exam would be paramount for a good final grade. Hunter thought of it as relatively generous, given the fact that each exam’s content would stack on top of each other. 

 

In the front of the room, one of the invisible ibises hopped up and looked curiously at the professor’s briefcase. Hunter and Jack held their breath, watching as the bird opened its beak and began to tamper with the front buckle holding it closed. The tigress appeared not to take notice, as she turned her back to the class and began sketching out with the chalk once more drawing out several carbon chains. 

 

The two friends watched with bated breath, seeing that the ibis’s determination to open the briefcase did not lessen. With a click, it opened, flopping open and spilling its contents across the floor with the sound of fluttering paper. As if in slow motion, the tigress turned, staring confusedly at the pile of strewn notebooks and manilla folders. The class was quiet, watching to see how she would react. She smirked, stepping forward to pick up the office supply detritus, packing it back into the suitcase before returning to what she was drawing. 

 

The ibis chittered irritatedly, waddling and weaving between the tigress’s footpaws as it left to retreat into the back of the classroom to join the others. Hunter exchanged a look with Jack, the two wondering the same thing. If these paranormal activities persisted throughout the entire hour, how would a class filled with scientifically minded individuals explain it? Thankfully, however, the ibises appeared to have become tired from their mischief. Hunter a few minutes later they had huddled together next to his bag, preening the feathers on each other’s backs. 

 

𓁥 𓁢 𓐭

 

“Oh would you just look at these cuties!”

 

Malissa exclaimed, reaching down to pet one of the ibis’s on the head. It hopped away from her, looking at her outreached paw distrustfully as it shuffled its wings. The three were at the cafeteria, laptops and textbooks out as they waited out the afternoon until their next class. Jack was looking over his Orgo notes, demonstrating a significantly more studious attitude than Hunter could ever remember him showing before. 

 

The moment the otter had seen the ibises, she had clearly fallen in love with them. The birds seemed to care less for her affections, embarrassing Hunter twice as they pecked inquisitively at the front of his pants, gently squishing the front of his soaked diaper as they did so. 

 

“So they really don’t do anything?”

 

Malissa asked, and Hunter shrugged once more as he popped a french fry into his muzzle, chewing before responding. 

 

“Other than getting into trouble, no not really. Nobody else can see them except us, and they seem more interested in random trash and bookbags than anyone.”

 

“They did totally spill everything out of Dr. Zadira’s bag though.”

 

Jack added, grinning as he took a bite out of his PB&J. Malissa looked thoughtfully over him, before zeroing in on the sandwich he was eating and looking at it disapprovingly. 

 

“Someone really needs to teach you how to cook.”

 

She remarked, taking out a tuna fish salad sandwich she had packed for the day and opening the plastic bag it was contained in. Jack shrugged, placing a peanut butter covered thumb into his muzzle and smacking on it obnoxiously. Chewing, he opened his muzzle and rattled out excitedly. 

 

“I think I might have some information on the relic thingy though.”

 

Malissa and Hunter turned their attention to him, just as one of the ibises knocked over a stack of plastic cups over at the utensils bar in the cafeteria, plastic forks and spoons following shortly afterward. 

 

“What?”

 

Malissa prompted, looking intently at the weasel while holding her sandwich halfway through her muzzle. The weasel grinned devilishly, pleased at having captured both of their attention so easily. With great deliverance, he spoke in as serious a tone as he could muster. 

 

“It’s from Egypt.”

 

The two stared at him in shocked silence for a moment, before Malissa picked up a grape from her tupperware and flicked it at the weasel’s head. It hit him squarely in the forehead, after which he clapped both paws on his head and exclaimed exaggeratedly. 

 

“Ow! That hurt!”

 

“Good.”

 

Malissa remarked, turning away in disgust as she addressed Hunter who was still staring, unamused, at the weasel.

 

“Any actual breakthroughs on the other hieroglyphs?”

 

Hunter shook his head, setting down the french fry he was holding on his plate as he spoke. 

 

“No, this is the first time I was put in the ibis summoning one. I still don’t know what the other two do, or even if there are going to be anymore. I wish I could pick them out, if I only got to wear the panther ones I think I’d be set until we get more info on the curse.”

 

Malissa nodded empathetically, her attention drawing back towards one of the ibises that was currently tailing a rabbit, hunched forward and ruffling its wings behind it as it stalked the oblivious student. 

 

“Well, they’re cute even if they are harmless. I’m going to hazard a guess to say that they’re supposed to be like, little bodyguards of some sort?”

 

Hunter shrugged, willing to accept the explanation as he returned to his snacking. 

 

“Yeah, possibly. They’re kind of distracting to be honest.”

 

Malissa turned her attention to Jack, a gleam in her eye as her whiskers quivered as she posed. 

 

“So… Orgo?”

 

“You too? You guys are awful.”

 

Malissa raised her paws up in mock innocence, responding in a high-pitched defensive tone. 

 

“I’m just asking!”

 

Jack sighed, closing his notebook and taking another PB&J out of his backpack. This was his forth, causing Hunter to grimace incredulously as he watched the weasel unwrap it and take a bite. Talking with his mouth full, Jack responded sincerely as he chewed. 

 

“Look, this is a ‘last chance’ kind of deal. I’m gonna be cutting back on the weed too.”

 

“Wow!”

 

Malissa exclaimed, appearing genuinely taken aback as she looked at him. There was a note of respect on her muzzle, and Hunter decided that it would probably be best not to bully his friend too much. He offered. 

 

“I’ll give you my notes, but you should probably come over and study with me a few times a week. Wanna swing by my place on nights after class? If we did a review and tested each other we could be in pretty good shape.”

 

“Totally!”

 

Jack exclaimed, grinning and appearing genuinely pleased. Malissa nodded approvingly, closing her laptop as she made to head off for her next class. 

 

“Don’t have too much without me boys, we’re still on for Saturday bar crawls right?”

 

“Totally.”

 

Hunter echoed, giving her a wave as she walked off to her next class, her rudder tail waving casually behind her.

[BabySofia]

Somehow I don't think we've seen the full power of those little birds just yet. Looking forward to you revealing their true purpose there, I have a feeling it's going to be a doozy! 🙂

[Horatio Husky]

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Bar ‘Crawl’

 

Hunter was not feeling too bad as he took a sip from his fourth Long Island of the evening, watching from his perch atop the tall-legged bar stool as Jack and Malissa belted out the lyrics to “Take On Me”. The three had been on their university bar crawl for only about an hour, but given their relief at getting through the first week of college their path to becoming shit-faced had been a steep and brief one. The otter’s cheeks were flushed red, the glasses perched on the tip of her nose as she took heavy breathes in preparation for the refrain. Jack appeared similarly enamored, his lips clumsy and heavy looking as he slurred his way through the song. 

 

They were making fools of themselves without a care in the world, as having gotten through a week of prophetic academia to come the three had agreed upon making this weekend the official ending of their winter break. The three mammals were properly sloshed, with Hunter having ensured that his night would be uninterrupted by deliberately placing a booster pad on the surface of his changing table before the three had convened at the bottom stares of his apartment building. 

 

Jack, not one to miss out on comedic opportunity, had commented in a sickly sweet tone whether the fox was ‘weady’ when he had descended down the stairs with a slight waddle. Malissa and Hunter had exchanged brief, stoic nods, before each picking a shoulder to punch the weasel on. Even now, on stage, the weasel would occasionally reach up and unconsciously rub at his bicep as he leaned into the microphone, the air escaping out of his nostrils eliciting a static response from the speakers behind them. 

 

Hunter allowed himself a small smile, relaxing for the first time in a while as he felt the front of his padding blossom with a familiar warmth. He did not care, as he had managed to coax the ghostly paws into his regular pair of cartoon baby animal diapers. The fennec tried not to dwell on the fact that he now had a diaper brand that he could call his ‘usual’, as he raised a fist upwards towards his friends, yelling out encouragement as they reached the pinnacle of the verse. 

 

“Twoooo-ooo-ooo-ooo!”

 

The two sang out, exchanging giddy grins as they leaned one one another, holding desperately onto the mic as they belted out the lyric. Hunter laughed at the spectacle, visibly drunk and oblivious to the fact that they were both very much out of tune. Combined together, however, it sounded almost like they had managed to hit the pitch just right with one going a little too flat and the other a bit too sharp. 

 

Hunter hardly registered the fact that his stomach was rumbling, the bar food and drinks making their way quickly through his system. It was only towards the end of the song did he note that his tail had been flagging for quite some time. He shifted, his breath catching as he realized what had happened while he had been distracted. His voice muffled by the hubbub around him, he groaned in annoyance as he realized he was now sitting in a not-so-clean diaper. 

 

This might be the reason why it's called early…

 

A voice inside of Hunter’s head told him his reluctance to be the reason that he and his friends had to take a breath from the fun weighing heavily on him. He knew that he should excuse himself and take care of his messy bottom before too long, lest he risk a rash that would undoubtedly bother him when he was supposed to be paying attention in class. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he could feel the brooch’s sway, lulling him back towards his apartment where the closest clean diaper awaited for him, resting neatly on a shelf just for him. 

 

The fennec resisted, upset that his fun was being cut short by the cursed trinket’s influence once more. He would be fine, another few hours in his thick sweatpants and coat would be more than enough to conceal his accident. Almost as soon as his resolve solidified and he had risen out of his mucky seat to order another drink, he felt a distinct presence behind him. 

 

The fennec fox glanced over his shoulder, suddenly feeling very small as he peered into the long face of a female mammoth. One of the oldest anthropomorphized cenozoic species, it was not too uncommon to see one or two of them on a day out to the city. Still, Hunter realized that he must have been pretty drunk not to have picked up on her presence earlier. 

Something was off about her eyes, they appeared glassy and distant. A dreamy expression was plastered across her noble physique, her trunk almost floating through the air as it wrapped itself around his waist. Hunter’s eyes grew wide in a panic, as he felt the tip of her flexible appendage probing and patting the contained accident in the seat of his pants. Hunter barely noticed that the other bar attendees were completely oblivious to what was happening as the fennec received an unrequested diaper check. 

 

“Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

 

The large mammal’s voice was smooth and unaffected by the apparent stupor her subconscious was in, as Hunter felt himself being lifted up by the powerful trunk around his waist and laid gently down on an empty bar table. The fennec’s limbs flailed, the incredible weight and power of the drunk keeping him subdued as the mammoth moved her free hooves to rifle inside of her purse. 

 

This had quickly grabbed the attention of the bar lady, as well as the other college students attending that evening. Malissa and Jack craned their necks to catch a glimpse of Hunter’s panicked expression as he desperately tried to push the mammoth’s trunk off of him. 

 

“Hey! What’s the big idea!?”

 

The bar lady barked out, the rottweiler baring her teeth and crossing her tattoo covered arms, inky splotches on thin fur conveying to anyone who saw them that she meant business. The mammoth acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary, her trunk lazily trailing down the fennec’s torso until it caught on the lip of his sweatpants, pulling them down to reveal the saggy contents of his packed and padded back seat. 

 

Even in the abruptness of the situation, Hunter knew what was happening. He had pulled too far away from the influence of the brooch and the diapers his changing table had provided him; he had given the trinket the impression that he was not nearly infantilized enough for its own liking. 

 

From the mammoth’s purse, she produced a diaper with a single cygnet hieroglyph on its front. It was one of the two symbols remaining whose effects he was still clueless on, and it appeared like he was about to find out. The bartender was now visibly upset that she was being ignored. Her legs swinging over the edge of the bar, she deftly leapt over and marched straight up to the mammoth. 

 

Tapping the mammoth on the shoulder, her voice rose in volume over the booming music as the mammoth began to untape the first of Hunter’s top tapes. 

 

“And just what do you think you’re doing? You need to get out NOW!”

 

She yelled, emphasizing the end of her statement with a shove. She might as well have been addressing a cement wall, as Hunter doubted that even with the combined strength of everyone present in the room could anyone best her in a physical confrontation. That did not seem to be what she had in mind, however, as Hunter felt himself being wiped down with baby wipes that she had miraculously produced from her purse as well. 

 

Several of the others had gathered round now, Malissa and Jack exchanging desperate looks as they both racked their brains as for what to do. Hunter had his paws over his muzzle, hiding his face as he silently endured the public diaper change. At last, he felt his tail being threaded through the tail hole of a new diaper, his equipment and buttocks positioned onto the soft, lush bed of a fresh hieroglyphic diaper. He felt a waft of cold air pass over his equipment as the front was raised, snuggly secured into place by large, surprisingly deft fingers that arranged his tapes in a symmetrical fashion. 

 

Peeking through his fingers, the fennec glanced down at the diaper despite the hot flush that was coursing through his cheeks. The image of the cygnet stared back at him as he felt the mammoth’s trunk finally being taken off of him. Before he had a chance to scramble off the table, pull his sweatpants back up, and stumble his way out, the demeanor of the crowd seemed to shift. 

 

Hunter looked around him, pushing himself up until he was leaning on his elbows as his eyes glanced from one expression to another. They all wore the same, glassy eyes and dream expression as the mammoth did now. Even the rottie, who looked like she was getting ready to bite a chunk out of the mammoth’s knotted coat, looked pacified for the moment. Malissa still looked somewhat alarmed, though a little more relaxed. Jack, on the other paw, was completely entranced. Out of the crowd, came a high-pitched, cheerful tone. 

 

“D’aww, does that feel better sweetie? No more mucky yucky pamps for you!”

 

Another voice came from the crowd, Hunter noticing that it came from a particularly petit chinchilla holding onto a wine glass. 

 

“All clean!”

 

The rottie nodded, as the crowd’s unified agenda appeared to ripple through them like a wave in a body of water. 

 

“All better now, no more stinky bottoms!”

 

A few of the furs cheered, while others offered their own concerns and requests, their voices meshing together into a scattered cacophony of babying tones. 

 

“Does someone want a baba now?”

 

“Hey little guy, where’s your plushie?”

 

“Do you need your binkie, honey?”

 

“Hey little kit, isn’t it way past your bedtime?”

 

“Hop up darling, you get to sit in my lap!”

 

The crowd then moved towards him like a throng of the undead in a horror film, causing Hunter to yelp. Out of the murmuring, sleepy furs came a voice shrill and distinct with authority. 

“That’s my little one you’re talking to, thank you for taking care of him but he needs to go home now!”

 

Bodies turned and heads swiveled towards Malissa, who had one paw firmly clasped around Jack’s limp wrist as she pushed her way to the front of the crowd with the other. She was grimacing hard, as if she was trying to concentrate on a heavily weighted exam and had not prepared nearly enough for it. The furs moved out of way like molasses, until finally she had reached her friend. 

 

The mammoth’s trunk halted her, slamming down on the table between them as her massive, wooly face turned to face off Malissa. Hunter could see the otter’s body stiffen at this confrontation, Jack emitting a small, faint squeal of pain as she squeezed his wrist a little too tightly. She looked up, facing the mammoth with as much bravery as she could muster in her tipsy state, her cleft lips pursed tightly as her whiskers quivered. 

 

“Aren’t you forgetting something, dear?”

 

The otter waited, which the mammoth took for an answer. Reaching around, she deposited a pastel colored duffle bag on the table. Hunter had never seen it before, but recognized the characters stitched onto its side as belonging to those that had been on his now dirtied diaper. The brooch was picking up his preferences, that was for sure, but at least he could be relatively sure that these contained no ill enchantments. Relatively sure. 

 

“His diaper bag!”

 

The mammoth enunciated slowly, beaming with deliberate and slow amusement. The crowd began to disperse, offering small, melodic goodbyes and good wishes as they returned to their seats. Malissa grabbed the bag, Jack still repeating over and over again in a sing-song tone.

 

“Bye-bye now! Bye-bye now! Bye-bye now!”

 

“Let’s get the hell out of here!”

 

Malissa hissed to the fennec underneath her breath, her words coming through a smile so tight he feared that she might start cracking her teeth. Hunter needed no further encouragement as he scrambled off of the table. 

 

Momentarily forgetting that his pants were around his ankles in his haste to get away, he tripped and caught himself on his paws and knees. Crawling backwards a few steps to get himself out from underneath a table, he received a few affectionate pats on his diapered butt from the wine-sipping chinchilla on his way out. Inadvertently blushing as he crouched, stopped to grasp the bottoms of his sweatpants to pull them back up. Hunter tried not to think about the fact that he was pretty sure he had seen her in the back row of his Organic Chemistry class as he followed Malissa out of the bar and into the crisp, January night air. He was suddenly feeling very sober. 

[BabySofia]

Good addition! 🙂