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In for a Penny

You've only known her a couple hours, but your brain is reeling. She'd been standing idly by the table, wrist braced on the mahogany rim and cue loose in the other paw: a lithe-figured coyote with sharp features and a bit of snaggletooth.

"Name's Cassidy," she'd purred, eyeing you up like prey, "charmed."

The night's been a blur since the first shot of pool, but you're tunnel-visioned by the time the lock snaps and her apartment door falls open behind you. Her deep, willful eyes and wild grin bore into your skin. Her paw falls on your shoulder, claws blunt but digging. You can taste the fading hickory-smoke of whiskey still on her breath. It's driving you crazy. You reach to pull her to you, but she swipes your hand away like it's a housefly.

"Hold on a minute, tiger."

Her paw slips free, canines still bare and eyes hungry.

"Before we go any further, there's something you 'gotta know."

You should be worried. A little jolt of the appropriate adrenaline hits you, but as it stands you barely notice it.'Get on with it,' shouts your brain, but you swap the words as they cross your tongue.

"Yeah? What is it?"

She slips a paw into the waist of her pants and pops the button. Her grin narrows to a wry slit.

"Now, I'm all good, so I don't wanna' hear any sympathetic whinging, got it?"

"Huh?"

"Got it?"

"No whinging. Got it."

She slides the paw in further and flexes, spreading the zipper along the ridge with practiced ease. Her tail swishes gently, eyes peeling back your clothing.

"I'm incontinent."

"You're what?"

You'd heard her, but in the fog you're in it takes a second to process. Even as she rolls her hips and her beltline slips Iow. You'd been seeing something all along: a hint of elastic around the waist, a certain fullness to her crotch and buttocks.... It had been dark. You hadn't really noticed.

She straightens just a little.

"It means I--."

"I know what it means."

Could it be? With the way she carried herself in those short-shorts? That sharp wit, toned core, and wild, intoxicating grin? Was she really wearing a--.

"Come on now, you won't hurt my feelings. It's not polite to keep a lady waiting."

She pauses her undulation, eyes expectant, shorts wide open and hanging low from her tail. God, how had you missed it? One of those drugstore things, maybe, but this is so big. Even folded tight around her crotch it bulges out through the gap of her fly, and you can still see its bulk printing between the legs of her shorts as they sag and forcing her stance wide. It's got this dull, plastic sheen..., and that discoloration, is that....

"It's what you think it is," she nods, "it was a long night."

A shiver whips up your spine. It's a strange shiver. One you hadn't expected. There's a tightness in your jeans and you realize you're rock hard. How long had it been like that? Since the cab? Or was this new? A stupid thought sifts through the chaos in your brain. You sniff the air and smell..., ...It couldn't be.

"Mhmm," she murmurs, "that, too. Happened as we were getting out of the cab."

God, how is she looking you in the eye? In her place you'd have run crying and hid! How can she move her body like that, talk like that, be like that, and all the while she's..., well, you know. And her eyes are still wild. Her teeth still bared. Like it's nothing.

She pops the button over her tail and steps forward, pants finally falling to her ankles. It sags even further than you thought, and in the new light you can see that dark, yellowed stain leeches nearly to her waist. She shifts and pivots slowly around her right foot, as if on a runway. It's soaked up the back, too, past where the padding splits to slot her slender, ashen tail to fasten again at the small of her back. And then beneath it, there's a certain fullness. You'd never have noticed if she hadn't said so, even with the faint smell in the air, but it's there.

"This is the way it is," she whispers, nearly facing you again, "You want this, you've gotta have the whole package. Thought you should know what you're getting into."

You could get lost in those golden eyes. Even now.

"Cass, I--".

She shushes you with a paw bean to your lips.

"Now obviously, I need to freshen up. So I'll give you a choice: I'm going to be a few minutes. You can get lost before I get back, and it's no talk, no calls, no hard feelings. Or, you can help yourself to the fridge, flop back on that couch, and wait."

She rocks on a heel to leave, but something stops her. She turns back, that wry grin deepening. Your eyes lock again, then there's a jolt: her handpaw heavy on the tent in your jeans.

"Unless," she chirps, looking suddenly hopeful, "you're man enough to help out."

The spine shiver seizes up in a shudder. You hunt for words and don't find them.

"I, uh, yeah."

She slips her paw into your waistband and tugs.

"Then come along."

-

In a daze you follow her down the hall, brushing past the bathroom and into the shelter of her bedroom. It's lit dimly, but enough to make out she shadows of scattered wall-art and the simple frame of a queen bed. An Ikea model, you realize as she raises the dimmer. You'd seen it the other day when you'd gone in for a desk lamp. The things a brain notices.

She rocks back against the bedspread, triggering the tell-tale rustle of a rubber sheet. You'd tried like hell to forget that sound, but somehow it didn't bother her. Nothing bothers her. She just tugs at you again and pulls you close until her muzzle touches your nose.

"Not 'gonna lie, Anon. I've been eating bar food and keeping hydrated for the last couple hours. It's a mess down there. You want to back out now's your chance."

Your mind is no clearer, but those eyes. That smile.

"I don't think there's anything you could do to be disgusting."

It's the truth, though she winces at the saccharine flavor.

"You say that to just any girl who's gone in her pants?"

She pulls off the comforter and falls back against the rubber sheet, slender figure sinking slightly in the folds and perky breasts jostling loose under her tank top. With her pants off and legs out of the way, her accident is laid bare: it sits heavily in her crotch, thick, soggy, and swollen. And then there's the lump resting on the base of her tail. It's bigger than you first thought, and the smell's a little clearer, but you aren't paying attention. You reach down and set a hand on the garment, flinching as you feel the warmth.

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

She cocks her head.

"You're really good with this?"

Sure as hell wasn't how you thought tonight would go, or any night. But those eyes. And her poise is intoxicating.

"Yeah. I guess so."

You set your hand back on her and wait for some direction, marveling for a moment at the texture. The surface is taut and the bulk firm, but it gives under your touch. Gears stick in the back of your head, and then grind in place as she grabs your wrist.

"Don't tease. It isn't nice."

Your spine shudders again at the hunger in her voice, and your jeans strain.

"I, uh--."

She pulls you in and you trip over the bed frame as your shins catch. Then you're on top of her. Her warmth melts through your clothes. Her breath splashes your face.

"Kiss me."

You dive in as if loosed from a chain, and as you do her paw slips back in your waistline and this time pops the buttons and zipper. Her touch alone is almost too much, but she grabs you by the shoulder and tackles you to your back. Before you know it she's straddled over you, handpaws pinning you by the chest. Is she really just going to do this? She rocks back toward your pelvis.

"Hey, you sure you want to--"

Squish.

It's just about the strangest thing you've ever felt: soft, warm, heavy. It gives way under her weight like memory foam, and she lets out a soft, growling moan. Her eyes catch fire. She snorts.

"I'm both kinds of wet, now," she growls, "and both kinds of dirty."

She raises and drops twice more, both whipping you up the spine thickening the lust clouding your brain. Then she starts to grind. Pinned beneath her weight you've little respite from the friction as she rubs and lapses into a lilting howl. And the way it feels.... has she done this before? You've nearly the presence of mind to ask, but instead you tackle her back and pull her into missionary.

Wrapped up as she is it's tough to get at anything, but you hold tight and grind back as best you can. It's thrilling just to have your arms around her: something so wild and fearless and beautiful. And it must be working because she yips in time with the rhythm, eyes digging deeper and her teeth clasping at your jaw as you kiss. It should be disgusting, but there's nothing she could do to be disgusting. Not even as you feel fresh warmth surging into her padding, and then the tickle of the first rivulet to break through the leg seal and leak.

"Hey, I think I'm--."

"It's okay, Cass."

A little further. She yips and grinds and finally howls once more, and this time there's a flash: You, and then her right after. She shivers and you collapse together, silent save for your panting breaths, and the quiet trickle of urine puddling as her bladder empties its last. You slide an arm under her back and pull her in, ignoring the wetness. The smell is obvious now. You pretend not to notice.

"You okay?"

She grumbles.

"I said no whinging."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Good. And Anon?"

"Yeah?"

"I could really use that change, now."

-

You tumble back up to your feet to find her looking almost sheepish, her latest accident still pooling around her butt and sodden diaper on display. The image is hard to process, even with the fire in her eyes burnt to embers. Cassidy the tough girl. The untamable coyote. What a problem for someone like her to have. And what a strange place to wind up on a Saturday night in December.

"Come on, Anon. The tapes. It isn't rocket science."

Oh, yeah.

"Not going to pull me in again this time, are you?"

She shakes her head.

"Gotta get this taken care of. Least this way we only have to clean up the one mess."

The tapes pop free easily, and gingerly you ease the garment open. The smell hits hard with the seal broken but you hide your flinch. The padding is stained a deep yellow, and much of her fur with it. Her mess is substantial. Fortunately the bulk of it is bunched in a lump under her tail. You look up for guidance; she just arches her back a little and reaches around to rip the tail tape.

"Just ball it up. Got bags in the dresser."

You do as you're told.

The weight is startling. All this was just on her all night? You gag on the smell and turn so she doesn't see.

"Twist the bag a couple times and tie it as low as you can get it."

And just like that the worst of it is gone.

"Alright, now the fun part. Wipes are one drawer up. You'll want a bag for them, too. After that we're probably going to want to take this to the shower."

"You're pretty good at this, Cass."

"No shit, Sherlock. I get a lot of practice."

"I take it it, uh, doesn't come out of fur real easy."

"No, it does not. My offer stands."

You shake your head.

"In for a penny."

You go to work.

She isn't kidding: it's a mess down there. As big as the lump in her, uh, diaper was, there's maybe half that much left. God, she does this by herself? Must take forever.

"You get used to it," she sighs, sensing your surprise in the stroke of the wipe against her, "you get practiced, like I said, and you figure out how to move things along. Just get the worst of it, then we shower."

You keep at it, and slowly things start to come together. The wipes come back cleaner and the smell eases. She shivers again as you get to the base of her tail. You pause, but she shakes her head.

"Sorry. It's just I've never had any, you know, help before."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"But you're so forward with it."

She sighs, this time wistfully.

"Again, practice. You learn it's better to rip the band-aid. That it's always better to tell than get found out. Nobody wants to be mean, or shallow, but nobody likes surprises. It's a big surprise. Better to break a deal before it gets made; that's the kind of mistake you only make once."

You grab her paw from her side and give it a bit of a squeeze.

"Sorry."

"What'd I say about whinging?"

"Sorry!"

You toss the last of the wipes and she sits up. The paw you'd held falls back on your shoulder.

"I don't need you to try to be nice. This kind of problem can really drag you down, but only if you let it. That's another mistake you only make once."

"So I'm the first since you, uh...."

The grin comes back. You're glad to see it.

"Sorry, tiger. Not quite. It's been five years, after all."

Funny, you hadn't realized you hoped you were. Talk about saccharine, though. Maybe it's for the best. Presently she stands, stroking you with her tail as she brushes past toward the shower,

"But you are the first to not wait on the couch."

-

"Come on," she calls, "before the booze catches up and I wet again."

Her shadow breaks the honey light from the bathroom and you can see her beckoning. Suppose she'd said "we", but you hadn't wanted to assume. You trot after her, blinking hard and rubbing your eyes as you duck into the light.

Holy shit. She's a bombshell in the nude. Lithe, toned, and wholly unbothered by your probing eyes. She turns again, lifting her tail to flash her hips and ass.

"Like this better? I put a lot of goddamn work into it, so you'd best."

"I like you however you come."

"Oh, shut it," she spits, but there's no steel in her voice.

You finish disrobing as she wrenches on the faucet and pops the shower valve. Then she's on you again: muzzle wide around your mouth and tongue invading. Again you taste the whiskey as she hauls you under the current beside her, water running hot between your bodies and slicking and shrinking her fur.

"I don't think you finished cleaning," she purrs, wresting your hand from the small of her back and forcing it lower. Again, you do as you're told. Her jaw clamps harder and you feel yourself sliding under her weight. The plastic of the shower wall plants cooly against your back, and then slips as she shifts her paws to your shoulders. She tenses and huffs as you work, forcing you ever lower under her building ecstasy until she towers overhead. Her abs show faintly through her glistening fur and porcelain teeth shine like chrome in the steam-filtered light.

You collapse into one of those wood-slat handicapped benches and are surprised to find it sturdy. Surely it's got a far less glamorous use on the daily, but as she straddles you again you don't care to ask.

Then she drops, and your spine whips the hardest it has in ages.

It's fast now, her arms wrapped tight around your back and blunted claws digging. Your body strains, and hers, too. There's a closeness to it you hadn't expected: the kind you don't usually find in a bar. There's security in the strength of her grasp and her feverish motion, and you hope like hell she can feel you give it back. Maybe she doesn't let it bother her, but she wanted you to see the whole package. Well, you'll take it as-is, and you put your back into making it obvious. Judging by the howl, she can tell.

-

The night blurs a little, detail lost to booze, reverie, and confusion. You're back on the bed again, sprawled out together on a warm, drying towel. The light's still on, but her breathing's slowed, and a tired weight is slowly settling on your chest and forehead. You've got your arms around each other. Her still-damp fur runs warm and silky between your fingers. The world seems heavy and distant. But her eyes flutter, and she blinks. You wince as the feeling falters.

"Hey, comfy as this is, I'm still going to need change real quick or it won't stay that way long."

You yawn, not quite letting go as she shifts to turn away.

"You know, Cass, I don't mind if..., you know, whatever. We can take care of it in the morning."

But she groans and wriggles free.

"That's sweet of you, but neither of us is going to feel that way when we wake up cold, wet, and hungover three hours from now."

Suppose that tracks. You chuckle, and let her go.

"Take it that's one of those mistakes you only make once?"

"Once and only once."

"Want help?"

"I got this one. Takes practice."

Without her weight beside you you can't help waking a little. Drowsily you watch from the corner of your eye as she plucks one of the things from her dresser, unfurls it, and pulls it up between her thighs. A couple of practiced motions and she's got the tail taped up, then the leg-holes tight and finally the waist snug. You're startled how much smaller it is clean, barely disrupting her silhouette save some thickening around the hips. She must know you're watching because she turns again for you, this time giving her tail a more demure swish. You smile to yourself. There's a certain elegance to the pragmatism of it all, at least the way she wears it.

"Beautiful as ever," you call. She snorts dismissively.

"Uh huh. Sure am."

"Ya' know? You can kinda rock that thing."

Her ears snap half-back. You wince.

"...sorry."

"Yeah, you'll forgive me if that's not my favorite compliment I've ever gotten. But I appreciate the sentiment."

She flops back onto the bed beside you, this time pulling the towel out of the way and the comforter back up. You close your eyes as you feel her warmth again, but she pokes you firmly in the chest with a claw.

"Hey. These shouldn't leak, but I haven't had a dry night since this whole mess started, and after an evening like this there's no telling what else will happen. Just fair warning."

You poke back.

"Alright, but I'm 'gonna make you a deal: If I don't get to whinge, you don't get to warn me about stuff anymore."

She sighs, hiding what you're sure is relief behind a veil of irritation.

"Deal."