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Diapers: they were his crutch and his source of comfort. His rock to hold onto, his anchor weighing him down. The young incontinent cheetah Kioga had all sorts of diapers: thin, discreet briefs for moist days and fat, bulky diapers for the thunderstorms. He had discreet, absorbent ones for all-around confidence; he had form-fitting pull-ups that accented his svelte butt. He even had thick, cartoon-printed diapers for when he was feeling ostentatious: for when he was feeling like a kitten.

These last briefs, the King Cubs, had not been used in two years. Kioga's boyfriend Lugo, a muscular jock-type wolf he'd converted to the fetish six months ago through a farcical series of pranks, mishaps, and catastrophic indiscretions of excretion, passed behind him in his apartment as he surveyed his vast cache of incontinence supplies. Lugo was carrying a wad of bed sheets to the washing machine; there was a soaked store-brand diaper in the kitchen's garbage can and Kioga stood in the hallway before his diaper-filled credenza, smelling of baby wipes. He was eating a bland turkey sandwich, such was the nature of his sensitive stomach.

Lugo rested a paw on his boyfriend's shoulder. The wolf, a foot taller and eighty pounds heavier, was wearing a Halloween sailor's shirt and a cap, not unlike Donald Duck, and a pair of thigh-high boyshorts that bulged on all sides with his thick, ridiculous underwear. A lollipop stuck out the side of the twenty-five year-old marketing clerk's muzzle. Kioga had just been hired there full-time. Lugo was his mentor.

"Dude, I told you. Before we got to the restaurant and afterwards. When you drink beer, no matter if it's two or a pitcher, you bust like a water balloon. I drank a pitcher and wore a European Ultra. That's why my side of the bed was--"

"I know, okay?!" Kioga snarled, turning to his wolf, naked and wet while his partner was dressed like a cartoon puppy. Lugo backed up, switching his lolly to the other side of his mouth, clacking it against his teeth. The wolf shook his head, turning to leave. They'd been through this before. Once more and that mattress was toast.

"Ky," Lugo said, reaching down to adjust the leg gather of his own diaper, snapping the disposable elastic against his ass. He saw Kioga follow his motions; the boy loved him and thought him the sexiest man alive ... especially with two pounds of soaked gel between his legs. "Why do you keep under-shooting your thickness? You sharted your pull-up at Wal-Mart last week and I told you we were going to be there for groceries for us both, and medicine for my mom, and you needed tissues/paper towels/toilet paper, we needed baby powder and wipes, I needed a new oil filter, we were running low on condoms--"

Kioga threw up his paws and Lugo, talking around his lollipop and holding Kioga's soaked bedsheets in one arm, threw his free paw out to silence him.

"I won't belabor the point. I know you know. And I know you're a big boy, which is why I need to say this. One second."

Lugo waddled to the back, crinkling all the way, then tossed Kioga's bedsheets in the washer and started the cycle. He returned with a crunch, then threw his lollipop stick away. His teeth were brown; it'd been a Tootsie Pop.

"You're too macho. You're snapping into a monster-sized Slim-Jim and it's giving you diarrhea of the ego."

"What?" Kioga balked. Lugo had begun to enjoy florid analogies as, perhaps, a coping mechanism for the bizarre fetish that he thoroughly enjoyed: at night he was a four year-old wolf-pup named Oliver, and as such talked with a Dickensian British accent.

Lugo waved his paw dismissively, then rolled his eyes and relaxed. He was wetting himself as he admonished his incontinent boyfriend, and the front of his shorts lost their wrinkles and stretched as the large adult's thick diaper strained at capacity, the crotch swelling into a smooth, bowling ball bulge. Kioga's cock sparked with life.

"We're both off today," he observed as the thin cheetah's sheath spilled over. Kioga was on his way to grope Lugo's warm, wet diaper and the wolf caught his paw, looking him in the eye. "Why don't we take it down a notch? Remember that Dragon Snuggles onesie I got you, the one with the baby-snaps at the bottom? How about the expiration date on those King Cubs? You bought those years ago." Lugo was always pragmatic: one day, even with a vibrating egg buried in his rectum and his snout in a muzzle, he'd managed to make a roast for dinner in between humid bouts of sexual degradation.

"I'm not one of those," the twenty-three year-old grumbled, knowing full well that "Oliver" was. Lugo gave the same tired grimace he always did when Kioga would disparage that side of the fetish. "You can; you've got everything going for you. For me, it'd just be giving up. 'Take care of me, daddy, I gotta tinkle, daddy, wipe my ass...'"

The wolf, a foot taller than him and eighty (plus two) pounds heavier than him, was up in his face with his boyish sailor's cap tilted menacingly over one eye. Kioga's hand went to his sodden crotch, and Lugo pressed his huge, soaked diaper into the cheetah's paw. Kioga felt a chill come over him, despite having become fully erect.

"First of all, I said 'I believe I've sprung a leak, father,' and all you said last night was 'sounds good, me too' before rolling over. Your padding was swinging like a limp donkey dick before it was two a.m.; I knew it wouldn't make it through the night."

"Why didn't you slide a puppy pad under me?" Kioga asked, now turned towards his boyfriend and pushing his cock against the soaked sack in Lugo's shorts. Soothed, yet aroused, he nuzzled his head into Lugo's muscular breast, which is where he heard a deep chuckle.

"See? I think you want to be a kitten."

Realizing what he was doing, Kioga jumped with a start, but the larger wolf already had him by the chest and the small of his back, looking at him with a calm, commanding gaze.

"We've already fed and cleaned you, little Ky. It's time to get dressed."

"Lugo! I'm not sure ... "

"Now, now," the wolf admonished as he led the cheetah back to their bed and grabbed a King Cub on the way, "Only mommy Wesleyana gets to call her big wolf that. You can call me dad, or daddy, or sir if you're trying to wheedle an ice cream sundae out of me. Now stand there..." he said as he escaped Kioga's groping paw, waddling around the heavy bulge of processed beer hugging his meaty, lupine balls.

Lugo tossed a puppy pad down on their bare mattress just in front of the towel and stack of books he'd placed to soak up Kioga's accident, then lay the cheetah back and watched with passionate, secretive lust as the smaller male's reasonable anatomy slapped up against his waist, his cute white sac hanging moist above his small, svelte buttocks. The cheetah's tail thrashed lively.

The wolf slipped out and, in practiced, efficient form he shed his sailor uniform, sniffing its corners as his other paw traced the leg guards of his sagging diaper, nodding with satisfaction that his European Ultra had done the work of several cheap domestics. He wiggled his hips and the huge garment hit the floor with a heavy thud, and Kioga moaned from the bedroom as he realized he wouldn't be changing his wolf-pup this morning. Or, well, this afternoon, since they'd gotten up so late.

"You're staying in there like a good boy, aren't you, kitty?" Lugo called back as he wadded up his volleyball of waste and tossed it in the trash.

"Yes,daaaaaad," Kioga called back.

"You're not touching yourself, are you?" Lugo asked as he went over his sheath and under his tail with a few baby wipes.

There was a pause. "...no?"

"You're lying to me," Lugo said sharply as he slipped one of Kioga's form-fitters on himself and caught himself in the mirror. Damn, he was a gorgeous man, he thought to himself as he cupped his paws together and flexed his arms. His diaper was already bulging, and it wasn't from what'd come out of him. Rather, it was what was on him.

"Talk about incontinent," Lugo whispered to himself, clutching his padded rump and leaning forward, groaning as the crinkly plastic formed a silhouette around his thick wolf sheath. "Diaper can barely contain me."

In the bedroom, Lugo applied the same domineering care, the confident paw in a velvet mitten, that Kioga would administer to him, to "Oliver." In playing the daddy diapering up his pants-wetting son, however, Lugo had the advantage of size, strength ... everything. He easily lifted his stubborn kitten's feet into the air, holding his ankles in one paw as the other shook powder onto his exposed bottom and sheath with thumping talcum thrusts. Kioga complained the entire time, but every gripe or grouse seemed to bounce off Lugo with a dramatic Kerrang, like bullets off of Superman.

He was sat spreadeagle, his svelte nude form on display with the bottom half the most vulnerable, powder being shook onto and then rubbed into his most sensitive parts, his throbbing cock and sensitive balls coated in the stuff while he lay, like the Venus De Milo, in the middle of an enormous frilly diaper with small cartoon babyfurs printed on that. It was chafingly degrading, and yet the confident, strong-yet-sensitive touch of Lugo--of "daddy"--upon every part, into every crevice, and even a powderpawed pat to his tummy soothed him.

Before he knew it, Kioga was taped up in a frilly cartoon-printed diaper almost as fat as a floor pillow, and with a dreadful shiver he realized that he could not keep his knees together if he tried.

"Lugo, I'm nervous," the cheetah said as the wolf pulled a wrinkled onesie from his dresser drawer. It was wrinkled from disuse, but his boyfriend unfurled it like a banner and smiled almost mischievously as the cutesy cartoon dragons of the Dragon Snuggles cartoon were made apparent.

"You're shivering like a wet greyhound, Ky," the wolf said as he walked over, draping the garment over his forearm like a waiter's towel. Kioga's form-fitting diaper on Lugo's thick, sculpted form didn't look like protective underwear--in the oblique recesses of his mind it looked like a science-fiction speedo, with its opaque absorbent pad hugging the wolf's genitals and slipping under him, while his grey and white hips were visible through the translucent plastic. If Lugo would just turn around and pull down the back, raise his tail to expose that tight little hole ... or even better, if he would turn around, keep the diaper on, and let last night's wings run their course...

A loud crinkling noise brought Kioga back to the real world. He was pawing lustily at the front of his kiddie diaper, but it was so thick that he couldn't get any traction on his cock. Lugo caught him by the wrist and, with a knowing smile, pulled the offending appendage away.

"Ah-ah; that's twice now, little Ky," he chastised the smaller male. "Arms up."

Kioga's face and ears went red with blush. Lugo was dressing him like a child, but Kioga had to admit to himself as the firm, confident wolf in his sci-fi speedo (a diaper accenting his features rather than hiding them) that he felt soothed. That he, Kioga C. Davis, may actually relax for once ... let someone else take the helm. Lugo kissed him once on the lips before slipping the (admittedly musty and wrinkled) Dragon Snuggles onesie over the small cheetah's head, rubbing his tummy with a paw Kioga swore weighed twenty pounds as he did up the garment's snaps against the twenty-three year-old's armored crotch.

He offered his boyfriend a pacifier bought from their company store: it said Ferris Chalmpers right on the head and had their logo, which made Kioga blush insanely as he took the infant's placater into his mouth. As if he didn't subjugate himself abjectly to the company's will already, now he was sucking on their branded baby toy.

Kioga sat up and popped it out of his mouth, hanging it from his pinky claw. Lugo looked on attentively, wiping his powder-dusty paws with a scented wet wipe.

"I'm going to wear this stuff until, well, nature runs its course," he said with an impulsive giggle, "and I can't wait for you to change me, daddy."

Lugo nodded approvingly: like a real father, as if his son had just learned Moonlight Sonata on the piano. The cheetah slid off the bed with a loud crinkle.

"But I'm going to go over some financial reports I skipped over during the week. Do something this Saturday besides playing with my boyfriend's asshole."

"You'll only get daddy's asshole if you're a good boy, little Ky," Lugo said as he hooked his claw into the collar of the cheetah's baby clothes, stopping Kioga's exodus, "And you'll be going over them with this."

The wolf thrust a box of crayons in front of the cheetah's face.

"No, dad. Ferris is a Fortune 500 company."

"Those are private documents. No one else will ever see them."

"Dad."

"Do as I say, and you'll get a spanking."

"Don't you mean 'or?'"

"You and I both know what the real punishment is."

Kioga took the box of crayons with a snarl.

"Yes,dad."

Kioga C. Davis; MTA, SO, IHC; was in his apartment's living room going over sensitive earnings reports, tax documents, and trend analyses with a Salmon Pink Crayola crayon. With a grunt, he wet the front of his King Cub diaper, feeling with relish the urine trickle down his talcum-powdered balls as he stabbed numbers into his phone's calculator, shivering simultaneously from the hardened sanctions Livingston International was giving them and the piss that collected around his asshole before absorbing into the padded garment forcing his legs apart.

"Ferris isn't going to have a good summer," Kioga remarked, rattling a Turquoise crayon between his molars.

"All we can do is brace for impact," Lugo said as he set a peanut butter sandwich in front of his kitten, rubbing his headfur afterwards. Kioga popped his pacifier back into his muzzle and leaned into his fist. "Which, speaking of, how's my baby doing?"

The wolf stooped low and squeezed the front of Kioga's diaper. Then he ran his paw along the back, muzzle hovering low and sniffing.

"Dad, I'm fine," Kioga groused, going back to his notes as the wolf groped his padded rump.

"I'm just checking," Lugo said, cradling the back of Kioga's head as the cheetah nuzzled his own padded crotch. Just as quickly, he pushed the cheetah away. "Eat," he insisted, then suppressed a smile as Kioga took an enormous bite out of his sandwich, then coughed as he swallowed. The cheetah's guts rumbled.

"What brand of peanut butter did you buy?" he asked as he smacked his lips, grabbing a nearby water. "It's kinda chocolatey, yet bitter..."

A wet fart thumped out of Kioga's moist tailhole, air bubbling under his butt before escaping out the back of his diaper.

"Was that a depth charge?!" he exclaimed as he massaged his stomach. Things were moving, and moving fast. His bowels had turned from a slow hiking path to a metropolitan subway system. Kioga could already feel the shit piling against his tailhole, which was struggling to unclench.

Lugo's muscular shoulders went up with a noncommittal shrug, then he knelt down and pushed Kioga's pacifier back into his mouth. "It's a special blend. Similar to what you gave me last weekend."

Kioga was in agony, stumbling up onto his knees as his body fought his every move. The front of his diaper was flooding; his bladder had gone full release from the stress exerted on his guts. It was hot, wet, and the loud hiss of piss hitting plastic and soon, a puddle of piss, tickled his ears. The King Cub couldn't soak it up fast enough, but its leg guards held onto every drop as the cheetah's crotch went from swampland to full-on bayou.

"Yeah, but I wanted you to mess yourself, you bad puppy, and I HOOOAH GOD!" Kioga yelled before all fecal hell broke loose. The brown hounds had been loosed: a loud, wet fart filled the room despite its muffled prison, loosening his leg guards to make piss run down his legs. The scent of their living room was arousing and perverse at the same time, but to them, such was the nature of excretion mixed with baby powder.

Kioga was making plenty. On his knees, he braced himself against Lugo's chest, sucking madly on his pacifier as his Dragon Snuggles onesie turned wet around the crotch, his diaper struggling against the violence wreaked upon it. His farts turned wet before stopping abruptly, plugged by a long, snaking hose of shit writhing out of him like an animal, crashing into the seat of his diaper and then coiling unto itself, rolling down his taint with sluggish gravity as the cheetah pumped cups of the stuff into a plastic prison.

He held onto Lugo desperately, feeling the entire diaper sag between his legs, shivering with sudden creeps as a chunk of scat rolled under his balls, tickling his soiled underside. His onesie was yellow in the crotch, his knees sitting in small puddles that'd trickled down his thighs. He looked up, and his stalwart, steady mate looked down at him.

"I ... think I need a change, da-da," Kioga said weakly. He could feel his onesie strain in the crotch; his garment was slipping. It was a King Cub!

"I should just cut leg holes in a garbage bag; you could use that instead," Lugo said with a chuckle, pulling his kitten up and kissing him around the pacifier. "You're a big stinker. You're a messy, stinky kitty."

"I'm okay with this," Kioga said with a grin, stumbling to his feet as Lugo pulled him up. He grabbed Lugo's paw and pressed it against his sagging rump, letting the wolf lead him back to his bedroom to get him cleaned up good and proper.