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I'd prepared most of the meal in advance, having been waiting to welcome Sherman home all week. French onion soup, sweet squash, braised asparagus, and cheese-stuffed peppers, with a small, rich, dense chocolate cake for dessert. I was just laying out the table when Sherman returned from the bedroom.

"Otis, my um . . . my bladder's really full."

"That's what your diaper is for." I tried to keep my response nonchalant, my focus still on the silverware.

"I really have to use this, don't I." It wasn't a question. It was a realization, an almost muttered thought. He was trying to encourage himself. His eyes closed tight, and he stood very still for quite a while. I stopped to watch him.

"Master," He spoke up, more pleading this time, "I can't seem to, um . . . let go."

"It's alright, my Pet," I padded around behind him, and rested my broad paws on his shoulders, "you're fighting a lot of training. Just try and relax," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "and imagine you're draining in a bathroom, or against a tree, wherever's comfortable." I'd read up on advice for this sort of thing online, but not having done this myself, I was trying my best.

After a few moments of deep, relaxed breathing, he sounded frustrated: "Master, I still can't do it. It just feels so . . . different. I really need to go."

"It's ok. What you're afraid of is that you'll release unexpectedly. That's why you find that sensation uncomfortable, and it's why you're holding back. It's ok to let go. I'm here." I moved my right paw , reaching around his waist, under his arm, to his padded diaper front, crinkling it just a little. "I want you to imagine your cock is being held in a trusting paw, just like you've urinated every day since you were a kit. Nothing unusual is going on. Just relax, and let go."

It took him a few more moments of slow, deep breaths with his eyes closed, but soon, with a faint hissing sound, warmth began to spread through his diaper front beneath my paw. As hot liquid from the slit at the tip of his cage flooded over his confined cock and needy balls, soaking into his fine white fur and thick, absorbent padding, he let out a sigh of relief. Just from the heat of it, I could tell it was spreading over his crotch, and pooling between his legs. By the time he finished, his diaper front was noticeably squishier, its wetness indicators mostly blue. It could take a lot more, but the faint darkening and yellowing behind the plastic diaper coating made it clear he was a soggy bunny.

"Feel better?"

"Yes, Master." He sounded genuinely relieved.

"Are you ready for some dinner?" It was a sudden change of subject, but he seemed eager to return to some kind of normalcy.

"Master, couldn't . . ." He must have been about to ask for a change, to complain about his wet diaper, but he knew I was well aware. He relaxed slightly, feeling my paw on his shoulder, my arm around his waist. He entrusted me with the decision, drawing a long breath through his twitching, pink nose: "Dinner smells delicious."

It was a strange opportunity, in a way, to test how readily he'd trust my judgement about his diaper, but I was so pleased with his behavior. He must have seen that in my face and the way I offered him a seat at our tiny kitchen table. The curious mixture of pride and embarrassment at having wet himself drove his cheeks to a furious pink under his fur, and left his ears standing straight, but tilted backwards.

"Ooh," he let out a surprised gasp as he sat, his padding crinkling and squelching beneath him.

"Something wrong, my Pet?"

"Just . . . the diaper, it's like an extra cushion, but it's so warm, and, . . . squishy."

I couldn't help but imagine the thick, soaked wetness squishing gently up between his fluffy bunny buns and around his tender, needy balls. I tried to suppress a grin as I finished setting the table.

We spent a long time eating dinner. Sherman recounted his trip: business dealings, acquaintances new and old, places he'd visited, food he'd eaten. I told him what I'd been up to. We covered everything from weather to movies. When it came time to do the dishes, he insisted on helping. Maybe he was still feeling guilty. I let him do the drying.

For the rest of the evening, he snuggled in my embrace, as we shared the armchair in the living room. I had missed him so much: his touch, his scent, the whispered conversations, the way he wiggled from one adorable position to the next. It was odd, reaching for his perfect perky rabbit rump, only to be rewarded with thick, damp plastic padding, but cute in its own way.

It got late. We watched a tv show or two recorded from earlier in the week. I stroked the fine, short fur on the top of his head, running the tips of my fingers between his ears, down his neck and the length of his spine while he nuzzled into my lap. His damp diaper and caged cock didn't concern him. At the paws of his Master, I could almost feel him melting in happiness.

"rrrrrr . . ." he breathed softly, over and over, rolling his "r"s like a tiny purr. He does this sometimes, when he's deeply satisfied right where he is. It's his expression of contentment.

When at last he had nearly fallen asleep in my lap, and it was very late, I began to lift him gently.

"It's about time for bed."

He stood up, transferring his weight from my thighs to his feet with a practiced motion, avoiding bony elbows or awkward rolls. He stretched, in a satisfied, unashamed way. I found it inexplicably cute.

As I got up and began to leave the room, he called to me:

"Wait, I . . . um . . ." He was frozen in place. He looked conflicted. Then he closed his eyes, and began to breathe deeply. I paused, and watched him silently. It took him a while, but the faint hiss began, soon followed by a trickling sound, as his diaper became soaked enough for liquid to flow inside, over his crotch and balls, through his fur without being absorbed immediately by the swollen padding. It was growing thicker and saggier, filling out between his legs and even under his rump. The warm flow around his most intimate regions made him tremble slightly as he finished. He opened his eyes again, not conflicted any more.

"Never mind," he said, honoring my wish that he not trouble himself with asking to be changed, or deciding when or where to relieve himself. He began to follow me, his diaper squishing heavily with each step, forcing his legs into a slight waddle. The liquid had dampened out almost all of the crinkling sound.

"Just a moment, soggy bunny," I chuckled. I crouched, and brought one strong paw up between his legs, pressing the warm, soaked, swollen padding into his crotch, feeling liquid squeezed upward into the padding embracing his rump and cock, squishing around his balls and between his buns.

"Time for a change before bed," I announced. He looked really relieved. I'm sure he'd been wondering just how soaked I'd allow him to get before changing his diaper.

I set out the mat and gently laid him down on it. With one of the keys from my chain I undid the locks on his plastic underwear, and slid it from his bare, white, fine-furred legs. I undid the tapes on his thick, yellowing diaper before drawing it back to reveal his damp crotch, his plush balls, and his cute caged cock. Between the warm, soft, yielding touch of the diaper, and his Master's care, his poor confined bunny-hood was already dribbling with excitement. He wriggled gently, unable to hide his embarrassment. I said nothing as I balled up the old diaper, and trashed it, making a mental note that I'd have to take out the trash more frequently this week. I wiped his fur, scrubbing him a little to get the smell out, and worked in powder, lifting his legs as before. It had a kind of tender closeness: an intimacy that made us both smile, enjoying the shared silence. I wrapped him up in a nice, fresh diaper, already savoring the clean scent of it, associating it with these moments, as I'm sure my Pet would come to associate it with his Master bringing him comfort. Standing him up, I locked him back up tight in his clear plastic underwear, safe from leaks and free from worry.

"Thank you, Master." He broke the silence, burying his plush, white face in my broad chest.

"You're always welcome, my Pet." I ran one large paw up and down the fine fur of his back, savoring his warm softness. "Now you head on into the bedroom. I'll meet you there in a minute."

He may have been free to let go wherever he wanted, but I wasn't. I used the bathroom, and returned to him.

As I began to undo my shirt, Sherman's slender paws met mine, forcing white buttons through salmon buttonholes with voracious speed.

"I missed you," he explained.

"Mmmmhhh" I sighed in satisfaction as I let him open my shirt. He pressed his nose into my thick, coarse fur, nuzzling my chest and inhaling deeply. I could feel my sheath swelling as he drew his paws down my sleeves, pulling my shirt from my back and onto the floor. I let him unbutton my slacks and undo my fly, freeing me from my trousers and boxers with a single, greedy pull, his expression eager and intense.

"I missed you too, my Pet." He began to lick at my fur, his rough, long, narrow tongue making short laps at my chest and belly, working his way downwards.

"I missed your taste . . ." he muttered, voice muffled as he worked his way down to the shaggy fur of my engorged sheath, licking along the length of it, coaxing my rapidly rising black cock tip to spill forth.

"Ooooh . . ." I breathed in appreciation as I sat slowly on the mattress. I slid backwards onto the bed, and my beautiful Pet followed obediently on paws and knees, my strong paws guiding his shoulders as his nose and tongue tickled my fur and flesh, his soft blue eyes an expression of servile happiness.

He lapped gingerly at the tip of my still-soft length, sampling the warm, salty muskiness of it, before kissing the slit, and gently drawing in just the head, suckling softly.

"I was so lonely with you gone," I confessed in an almost whispered tone. It was true. The apartment was empty without him. Home just wasn't home without my bunny Pet waiting for me. Every time I'd pawed off while he was gone, my mind filled with thoughts of him.

His only response came in the form of gentle nursing, rhythmic suction with tongue and lips, just at the rim of my cock head. I was rock-hard. Droplets of precum rolled teasingly up my eight inch shaft, only to be eagerly consumed by my Pet's undulating tongue.

With a long, slow, vigorous suck, he drew his lips from my length, letting out a smacking sound like the breaking of a passionate kiss. "Mmmmh," he allowed himself one moan of anticipation before pressing his nose to the base of my sheath, drawn back around my protruding, waiting arousal, and inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of sweat and musk: of fur, and bear, and Master.

He began to lap at my balls, savoring the thick brown fur, using his long, rough, agile tongue to lift each one, press it to my body, warm it with is breath, and massage it with his lips. Each lick at the sensitive backside of my sac sent throbbing pleasure through my blood, pulsing through my veins and in my cock. As he brought each orb as far into his maw as he could manage, rolling and sucking them, I could feel the lust pouring from them. My hips begged to thrust into the air, my powerful buttocks yearned to clench and buck, my thighs, and even my stubby bear tail pushed for me to mount, to thrust, to fuck.

My attentive rabbit, sensitive as ever to his Master's desires, drew with one continuous lick the entirety of his long, rough tongue through the fur of my sac, between my dampened, lust-fired balls, up my shaggy, sweaty sheath, and the full, sensitive underside of my length, forcing globs of precum to roll before it, as at last he returned to my throbbing tip. My paws left his shoulders to rest on the bed. I trust him completely. There is no need for me to guide him or force him to pleasure his Master. He began to kiss and suck gingerly at first, before each kiss turned to a forceful suck, drawing more and more slick pre from deep within me, desperate for the salty, lusty flavor of it. His eyes were closed, his ears splayed in concentration. His weight rested on his paws on either side of my hips, and his knees between my legs. His puffball tail was held high in the air over his gently crinkling diapered rump, his Master's protection and his Master's care embracing him even as he dedicated himself to his Master's pleasure.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, a needy, almost begging expression filled his pure white, finely-furred face.

"While I was gone, I could only dream of pleasing you like this." With one practiced motion, his lips slick with pre and saliva, he forced my full length into his maw, its three-inch girth stretching his throat wide as he nonetheless sucked firmly on every inch of my shaft, until his nose pressed into my curly, coarse crotch-fur, the short, fine fuzz of his chin into my balls.

I won't pretend to understand the deep satisfaction and pleasure Sherman feels from denying himself and pleasing me, but in that moment, I could feel his surging passion, his eager gratitude, his longing, and his deep need roaring through my cock, sending waves of pleasure, lust, and arousal washing over my skin, and deep into my bones.

"RRRrrrrr . . ." A growl forced its way out of me as uncontrollable desire took hold of my chest and lungs.

After allowing himself a moment to adjust his mouth and throat around my full eight inches, he resumed his expression of concentration, and began to bob his head. He moved slowly at first, just an inch or so up and down, narrow tongue wriggling, throat swallowing and sucking at the steady trickle of precum from my slit. His lips became a tight ring sliding up and down my base, kissing the thick musky fur of my crotch. As each bob of his head drew higher, his kisses became long, vigorous slurps. His quick breaths at the apex of each thrust became heated gasps, bright pink nostrils flaring in a sea of pure white. His hips rocked, thrusting the raging flesh of his arousal, confined as it was, into his soft padding, his diapered rump swaying and flexing. His whole body undulated as he threw himself into his work, pleasuring his Master with every fiber of his being. He must have been leaking pre like a faucet, his balls boiling with over a week of pent-up need in their soft, reassuring, padded prison, and yet somehow he channeled his lust and his overwhelming arousal into me.

I could smell my Pet's desire in each hot breath. It was in his sweat and his musk. Each ever-more eager lingering suck at my length tugged at my self-control, sending shivers through my spine, filling my balls with urgent need. I could no longer keep myself from bucking into his desperately slurping lips, from forcing myself into his welcoming maw with each bob of his head. It was all I could do to keep my paws gripping the sheets rather than taking hold of his long, sensitive ears and forcing him against me. Even if I did, I knew it could be no improvement on his expertise.

My thighs locked against his sides, pressing my hot, thick, shaggy fur into his fine pelt, feeling him writhing between them with each increasingly rapid thrust. He was bringing me so close. My eyes closed of their own accord as I savored the fine ministrations of my fine bunny Pet. My sensitive bear nose filled with our scents, and the scent of our love-making. My ears filled with the sound of fur against fur, lips against flesh, sucking, slurping, and swallowing.

"Such a good Pet," I whispered between heated breaths. I could feel the shuddering tingle the complement sent through him. His right foot-paw spasmed against the bed, shaking his whole body.

"Such an attentive Pet." He moaned in almost physical ecstasy, the vibrations echoing through my cock. I was drawing so achingly close. My furry sac drew tight against my body, each thud of his chin against it pressed harder. A pressure was welling up deep inside me, a deep, primal stirring only my beautiful bunny can awaken.

"Such an obedient Pet." It would remind him, I knew, of his recent transgressions, but more importantly that we had moved beyond them, and that he was now as he should be: attentive and obedient to his Master. It had the effect I desired. I could hear his thighs clench and his rump wriggle in the thickness of his diaper, reminded of his punishment, but his appreciative whimper and eager tongue lashings were unmistakably joyful.

Those were the last words I could manage before my Pet took me beyond the ability to articulate, eliciting only growls and the grunts of barely-constrained roars, our bodies moving in rut, thrusting, pumping my black flesh into his pleasing lips, sucking and licking with his own desperate desire. He knew what was coming. With one quick motion he drew himself all the way up, off of me, barely kissing my tip as my rump pressed into the bed. Our eyes fluttered open, meeting only for a moment as he inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and we forced ourselves together, his lips offering forceful, squeezing resistance even as his tongue sucked with ferocious eagerness. The boiling pressure within me had built to a crescendo, and at last a hot flow of release surged through me, welling up from my balls and down every inch of my length. Seething, thick, white bear cum forced its way along my shaft, pumping, shooting, erupting from me and into the willing, swallowing maw of my beautiful bunny boy Pet. With each burst, each renewed clench of my muscles, forcing us together, his nose pressed to my crotch fur, his chin to my clenching balls, waves of euphoric pleasure washed over my mind. Nothing existed but my Pet, nothing mattered but his commitment, his trust, his love. Orgasm wracked every muscle and nerve of my body with pleasure, the pleasure of having such a perfect Pet, and the moment seemed to last forever.

When at last I could open my eyes again, I was greeted with Sherman's smiling face, still suckling upon my softening shaft. His lips and his chin were damp with saliva and my own fluids. He had the expectant, joyous expression of a puppy after a job well done. With one strong paw I scritched the fine fur between his ears, before stroking his whole fuzzy head.

"Thank you, my beautiful Pet. I've missed you so much."

Letting my flaccid length slip back into my sheath, his pressed himself into my chest, nuzzling happily into my fur. He was trembling slightly, his right foot still spasming occasionally. For my Pet, there had been no release. It was his duty and his pleasure to please his Master, but our love-making could only add to his ever-growing need, rising to new heights. Release would only come if and when I felt he was deserving of a great reward. From the way he clung to me, eyes closed, pressing his fur into mine, breathing deeply, slowly regaining control as his hips rocked his diaper against my leg, I could be certain he wouldn't want it any other way.