{ "submission_id": "2868717", "keywords": [ { "keyword_id": "2726", "keyword_name": "arctic fox", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "7846" }, { "keyword_id": "11307", "keyword_name": "caught in the act", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1385" }, { "keyword_id": "1579", "keyword_name": "daddy", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "4513" }, { "keyword_id": "13703", "keyword_name": "degradation", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1310" }, { "keyword_id": "17645", "keyword_name": "diaper change", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2053" }, { "keyword_id": "744", "keyword_name": "diapers", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "22293" }, { "keyword_id": "673895", "keyword_name": "diaper swapping", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "8" }, { "keyword_id": "18650", "keyword_name": "exploration", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "830" }, { "keyword_id": "54727", "keyword_name": "fantasizing", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "403" }, { "keyword_id": "123", "keyword_name": "female", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1104556" }, { "keyword_id": "1696", "keyword_name": "humiliation", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "13353" }, { "keyword_id": "553", "keyword_name": "innocent", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "2756" }, { "keyword_id": "165", "keyword_name": "male", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1214711" }, { "keyword_id": "41896", "keyword_name": "messy diapers", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1965" }, { "keyword_id": "30890", "keyword_name": "neighbors", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "67" }, { "keyword_id": "157", "keyword_name": "red panda", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "15239" }, { "keyword_id": "30", "keyword_name": "scat", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "15226" }, { "keyword_id": "548", "keyword_name": "sleepover", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1643" }, { "keyword_id": "72179", "keyword_name": "wet diapers", "contributed": "f", "submissions_count": "1562" } ], "hidden": "f", "scraps": "f", "favorite": "f", "favorites_count": "39", "create_datetime": "2022-11-28 03:30:39.811203+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "28 Nov 2022 04:30 CET", "last_file_update_datetime": "2022-11-28 03:10:14.52438+00", "last_file_update_datetime_usertime": "28 Nov 2022 04:10 CET", "username": "Mironde", "user_id": "204789", "user_icon_file_name": "62879_Mironde_ibsf_avatar.gif", "user_icon_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/62/62879_Mironde_ibsf_avatar.gif", "user_icon_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/62/62879_Mironde_ibsf_avatar.gif", "user_icon_url_small": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/62/62879_Mironde_ibsf_avatar.gif", "file_name": "4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/4267/4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/4267/4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/4267/4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "files": [ { "file_id": "4267366", "file_name": "4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "file_url_full": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/full/4267/4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "file_url_screen": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/4267/4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "file_url_preview": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/4267/4267366_Mironde_shameful_obsessions.doc", "mimetype": "application/msword", "submission_id": "2868717", "user_id": "204789", "submission_file_order": "0", "full_size_x": null, "full_size_y": null, "screen_size_x": null, "screen_size_y": null, "preview_size_x": null, "preview_size_y": null, "initial_file_md5": "dfdfba66231e4b96b19e5ed64d613aa5", "full_file_md5": "dfdfba66231e4b96b19e5ed64d613aa5", "large_file_md5": "", "small_file_md5": "", "thumbnail_md5": "", "deleted": "f", "create_datetime": "2022-11-28 03:10:14.52438+00", "create_datetime_usertime": "28 Nov 2022 04:10 CET" } ], "pools": [], "description": "A young boy decides to explore his odd, burgeoning fantasies one night during a sleepover at the neighbors' house. Unfortunately—or is it?—his friend's father catches him in the act.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "A young boy decides to explore his odd, burgeoning fantasies one night during a sleepover at the neighbors' house. Unfortunately—or is it?—his friend's father catches him in the act.", "writing": "[center][t][b]Shameful Obsessions[/b][/t]\n[b]A story by Mironde\n\nCONTENT WARNING: This story depicts child characters in mildly suggestive scenarios.[/b][/center]\n\n\n“Gang way! Special delivery coming through!”\n\nExcited cries, pealing laughter rang through the halls of the home, mixed with the tromp of trundling feet on carpet. From around the corner, a tall red panda in shirt and slacks emerged—puffy with autumn fur, fit and slim beneath, with forest brown eyes and wispy white hair, and with the flag of his perky ringed tail fluttering behind him. He was all smiles as he raced down the corridor, carting cargo on his back and in his arms.\n\n“Faster, dad! Heheha!”\n\nOn his shoulders rode his daughter, shouting and giggling and squirming, propped up and leaning against his head. A tiny, eight-year-old ball of fluff and joy, she was the spitting image of her father save for her short-cut auburn bob—a token of her mother’s. While one paw clutched her steed’s ear for dear life, the other bore aloft her standard, a pudgy, shapely pink orb, as if flying her colors to the world. She was not the only passenger clinging on, however. Riding shotgun below, cradled like a toddler in the parent’s arms, lay an arctic fox boy, a seven-year-old, with eyes a shimmering cerulean like dawn-dappled lakes, a softly enthused smile in spite of the bumpy ride. Matching pairs of two-piece pajamas adorned the cubs, the boy’s blue and the girl’s pink, and both styled with rocket ship designs. Beneath their sleepwear, an obvious bulk wrapped their waists, wedged their thighs, crinkling with every motion—the swaddling protection of thick, disposable diapers.\n\nSoon enough, their romp across the abode came to its conclusion at the bedroom—a little girl’s room in naught but name. Placid greens shaded the walls, calm whites the furniture, earthy tan the carpet. The space was well-kept, vacuumed, dusted, tidy of toys stored in chests along the far edge. Flush with the walls, two identical children’s beds, a barricade of stuffed animals and plush cartoon characters canvassing their flanks and feet—two distinct tastes for two separate occupants. Beside the entry, a changing table of inviting pastel hues, of an appropriate size given the age of its users, its undershelves stocked and stacked with all the toiletries and clean garments two potty-challenged children could ever need.\n\nInside dad stepped, and beneath the doorframe he ducked to give his kids ample clearance to follow him through. Here, at the end of their journey, he chose to disembark his passengers in style—the first, by lightly tossing the boy in his arms, repeatedly catching him, readying for launch.\n\n“[i]Krshhht![/i] Flight Control, this is Fluff-One,” the adult narrated. “Incoming air drop in three, two…!”\n\nBefore the kit could even react, he was thrown to the air, gifted unto the merciful embrace of the guest bunk’s billowy duvet, where he landed with a pwomf and a squeal. Then, the plane circled ‘round in a wide, meandering arc toward the changing station.\n\n“[i]Krshhht![/i] Fluff-One to Flight Control. We’re making a detour to jettison waste product. Standby for further updates.”\n\nSwerving, swooping, the father panda dipped and dove to his daughter’s delight, making a show of their flight over to the diaper pail. There, he bent low to let his dearest dunk the ball in her clutches—her old, well-worn Pampers—down the chute. Watching her dispose of it from afar, the arctic fox’s sights flickered with envy, lingered perhaps a tad overlong—and not on his neighbors either. His paws gently scrunched at his bedsheet.\n\nAll that remained was to complete their voyage. The patron’s paws snatched his daughter forward, gripping her sides and piloting her wriggling body on a crash course with her cot in the corner. Unlike her friend, her landing came smooth, a coasting stop, a short drop once her father released her.\n\n“Touchdowwwwn!”\n\nFrom his mattress opposite hers, stymying his embarrassment, the kit instead cackled in glee, flashed his pearly fangs in joy, clapped his paws for the spectacle. The red panda pup, conversely, rose to her knees and bounced tirelessly on them. With each enthused jump, her padded posterior plopped onto her heels, producing for her efforts a loud, infantile rustle.\n\n“Let’s go again! C’mon!” cheered Serina, the panda’s progeny.\n\n“Ah-ah!” dad tsked, a silly smirk as he wagged his finger. “That’s all I’ve got in me, kiddo. You two are already up way past bedtime. Time to hit the hay.”\n\n“Awwww, no fair…” Her shoulders plummeted, arms crossing, cheeks puffed and pouty.\n\nUndeterred, her father simply rolled his eyes and chuckled at her cute display. “You can’t have a sleepover if you don’t [i]sleep[/i]. That’s, like, the first rule!”\n\n“You ask me, it’s a dumb rule,” she grumbled.\n\n“Look, sweetie, Lynn’s probably dying to get some shuteye. You don’t want our guest to get cranky, do you?”\n\n“I bet he doesn’t want it either…”\n\n“Actually, uh…” chimed in Lynn, the arctic fox kit, apologetic. “I’m okay with bedtime. My mom doesn’t like me staying up this late…”\n\nHis friend glared at him, mouth agape, stung by so complete a betrayal. “Lynn!”\n\nThe boy shrank into himself. “I-I’m just saying! I don’t [i]make[/i] the rules…”\n\n“There’ll be plenty of daylight tomorrow, Seri-kins. You can play all you want then,” consoled her parent.\n\n“But I’m not even—” Abruptly, her protests fell quiet when her maw swelled into a chasm, a yawning void, a breath drawn deep and long. She pushed a palm to her snout in a vain effort to stifle it. “—nrgh…[i]tired[/i].”\n\nDespite her protests, her father had already begun tucking her in, stuffing her under her bedspread. As her eyelids waned and drooped and shut, a gentle kiss to her cheek was all dad needed to send her off into deepest slumber. Gone was that insatiable energy, that tomboyish spunk—near-instantly conked out without the slightest resistance. But Lynn needed no such convincing; he was fast beneath the sheets, snuggled, secure, waiting for his guardian with only the snowcapped summits of his ears peaking over the ridge. When the man’s light footsteps finally arrived at his bedside, the child poked out of hiding, beamed at him, tittered as that strong, supple palm ruffled the fluff betwixt his triangles.\n\n“Do you need anything else, kitkit?” offered the panda. “Another blanket? A stuffy? Maybe a paci’? …Dry pants? If you’ve gotta tinkle, now’s the time to tell me!”\n\nA gentle blush smoldered in the boy’s cheeks, a hushed rustle beneath the covers as his brush swished the mattress. Their hospitality flattered him, as always. “I’m f-fine, I think. Thanks, um…Seri’s dad.”\n\nSmiling, the father pan stood tall and reared back, cracked his spine and groaned. “Well, you come grab us if you need anything at all—even a hug. You know it’s just a short hop away.”\n\nAnd with that, he took his leave—crossed the threshold, flicked off the light switch, eased the door shut until it was but barely ajar. Lynn followed suit, turning on his side in bed with his peepers shut. He listened in as the atmosphere around him deafened, as room by room, bulb by bulb, the shroud of nighttime enveloped the home. So soothing it was that it took all he had to fight off the fog creeping over his thoughts, to keep from drifting out to sea on the tide. Eventually, the last door in the domicile closed—the red panda parents, their kids seemingly asleep, themselves resigning for the night.\n\nMinutes passed in sweet, peaceful silence.\n\n…And then, one of the arctic fox’s eyes peeked open to the empty darkness. The room had gone completely still, dead as night. Slowly, he pulled his comforter away, sat straight up in bed and stared around him, before settling on the lump in his friend’s bed. Her soft snoring hummed in his ears.\n\n“Seri…? You awake?” he whispered across the gap.\n\nNo response—not so much as a peep from the panda.\n\nThat was his cue. Quiet as could be, he threw his sheets off and rolled out of bed, paws touching down on the plush playroom rug. He paused in place, scanned the room for any signs of movement, perked his ears on high alert for even the slightest noise to suggest the house was awake. All he saw was his friend’s bedsheets rising and falling; all he heard was her snoozing, and soon, his own rustling steps setting into motion. Through the darkness, guided by a nightlight’s faint glow, he slinked toward the changing table on the opposite wall—a sluggish journey given the hobbling bulk of his sleepwear, the thick overnight diaper throwing wide his gait. Soon enough, though, he had fumbled his way past the changing mat, the cabinets, the supplies, all the way to the diaper pail beside the station.\n\nAgain, Lynn halted, looked, listened, hearing only the drum of his galloping heart in his ears. His brush lashed nervously behind him. He gulped hard.\n\nHis hands went fast to work probing the wastebin, seeking an entry point. When he tried threading his arm in through the top, to his chagrin, he barely made it past his elbow before he was stuck, yanking himself free of the beast’s jaws. Lifting the lid proved the better option, easily pried once he had his claws under the seam, dislodging it. Yet the instant it was off, his paws flew over his nose, shielding his snout from a blast of stale air, a rank and odorous wind—of fertilizer and ammonia, days-old diapers, some even his own. On instinct, he snapped his head away, wincing, whining, nearly retching.\n\nAfter a moment to gather himself, and after a minute to quell his stomach, he found the courage to hold his breath and peek inside. Within, he found what he wanted: that balled-up parcel, plump and pink, sitting halfway down at the peak of the heap—a girl’s nighttime diaper, the very same his friend had filled not ten minutes ago that prompted a last-minute change of pants before bed. A hollow pang, a skipped beat tugged at his heart, seeing it there. And without a second thought to the contrary, he leaned up on his tiptoes and clambered over the rim, stretching his limb down into the depths. Heady aromas followed it, swarming his nostrils as he fished the package from its prison. It was far less ripe, far more fragrant than the others—sickly sweet with powder and piddle and poop.\n\nBriefly, he turned to his slumbering partner, who had buried her way farther into her den, entirely oblivious to his antics. He worked discreetly to remount the pail’s covering, to steal away with his ill-gotten gains, to crack the bedroom door and sneak out into the hall.\n\nThe tranquil blanket of night had indeed taken the rest of the home in its hold. From down the pitch-black corridor, lit by the orange tint of a nightlight, all was quiet save for the hiss of water and peaceful hum of the kitchen’s dishwasher. Not even Serina’s parents were awake judging by the silence from their chambers when he tiptoed past, without the clamor of television static or late-night talk shows he had expected. No time to check, however; he hurried two doors down, where his paw pads left the warm rug for the cool tile. Clean sterility greeted him in the light—white and beige, porcelain and marble; a walk-in shower, towels fresh on the rack beside; a toilet he had never and likely would never use.\n\nNow, with a measure of privacy, he secured himself in the commode, swiftly pushed the door behind him, and heaved a sigh of relief he had not realized his lungs were holding, almost painfully. If his heart had raced before, it threatened to leap out of his chest before long. His teeth chattered, as did every part of him from head to toe. In his nerves, he nearly dropped the ball to the floor were it not for his claws hooked around it. On his face, a flash of euphoria, a timid smile surfaced.\n\n“This is real…” he muttered. “Oh gosh, this is real…”\n\nSly, proud, he glanced upon the discarded diaper. Rarely had he the privilege to hold his used ones before, never mind someone else’s. So alien the experience, he could not help himself but to shift it in his hands, squeeze it with his fingers, bulbous and squidgy and spongey to the touch. It was the same as his own underwear, the same brand and plushness, and undoubtedly just as comfortable, perhaps more so with its previous wearer’s…additions. Colorful designs—a bedtime motif of stars and moons, with slumbering teddy bears draped over them—were strewn along its pink shell, all of them faded and blurred from front to back in a haze of muted yellow. Though tucked tight and taped shut, behind its frilled leg-cuffs lay a visible smear of brown—a hint of the foulness inside, seeping through the fabric ever so slightly. Its soft, still-warm contents weighed heavy as pounds in his paws, slowly shifting like sludge when he spun it in his grasp, and all of it only a single accident’s worth. Had he not been there to witness it himself, he would have hardly believed its significance. Recalling its memory brought a tinge to his cheeks—Serina freshly garbed from her bath, legs slightly squat, cheeks puffed and grunting, tail hiked high as a kite, as dinner made its inopportune exit. And to think, it was finally his to do with as he pleased.\n\nTighter drew his throat, still his breathing, and deafeningly loud his thumping heart. Hands trembling, he moved to unpeel the first tape, stuck his claw under the adhesive—\n\n“Lynn?”\n\n“Ahh!”\n\nA creaking door, a gentle voice—from behind, they startled him. He nearly jolted out of his skin, nearly lost his prize when his paws tossed it to the air, before quickly fumbling to snatch it, squeezing it tightly to his chest. Around his shoulder his head swung to spy his trespasser standing in the doorway: Serina’s father, staring bewildered at him. Instantly, he froze, stiffened, panicked at the unexpected intrusion. Only then did he realize, in his haste, and to his immediate regret, he had forgotten to shut the bathroom door all the way.\n\n“What are you still doing up?” asked dad, kindly concerned. “You need some water?”\n\nThe arctic fox stared dumbly at him, open-mouthed with alarm. Quickly, he perked up, swiveled around as he shuffled his hands behind his back, stowing that vibrant blob just barely out of sight.\n\n“A-Ah, yes!” he said. Nervously, he flashed a faltering smile, and his ear flicked. “Yeah, I…got up to get s-some water… I didn’t think I’d need any, b-but, uh, yeah! Haha…”\n\nBut his fussy fidgeting, his guilty tics, his skittish posture—they provoked no shortage of suspicion from his neighbor, who had already begun to crane his neck, to steal a peek at the secret he was terribly keeping. “What’s that behind your back?” he asked.\n\nLynn flinched, wilted at the question. With wide eyes, he threw his glance sideways in acknowledgement. “Oh, uh, this? Uh, that, it’s…”\n\nFurther dad leaned forward, gripped by curiosity. Further the kit wriggled backward, in his vain effort to stall the inevitable. Backed into a corner as he was, and with no choice but to come clean, he swallowed the knot in his throat, reluctantly brought forth the parcel, and showed it to him as innocuously and benevolently as he could. Understandably, the patron was surprised, left only to blink in confused silence.\n\n“Isn’t that…?”\n\n[i]Busted.[/i]\n\nA shameful swath of heat crossed the boy’s face, more scarlet now than white. His fingers dug deeper into the plastic carapace. His gaze flittered everywhere at once. He spluttered for words. “Yeah, uh, ah, it, that, I, uh…”\n\n“Lyyyyynn,” chided the father panda. “What are you doing with that?”\n\n“I-I, uh… I…found it! On the floor!” the child excused. “I found it on the f-floor in here, when I went to get some water. And I…was…j-just gonna take it to Seri’s room to th-throw it away.”\n\n“That’s weird. Can’t imagine we forgot to toss it,” the panda mused, an eyebrow skeptically cocked. “…Or how it got in [i]here[/i], for that matter.”\n\n“Y-Yeah, I know. I thought it was weird too.”\n\n“And you’re [i]sure[/i] you found it in here?”\n\nHis frantic, insistent nodding did little to help his case, for which the adult eyed him up and down—scrutinizing him, from his trembling paws, his curled toes, his tail wound around his leg. The writing was plainly on the wall for both to see.\n\n“Hmm… Maybe I’d better check Seri’s bin, just in case,” dad countered.\n\n“N-No!” Lynn blurted out, only to hastily reel his volume back in. “Ah, I m-m-mean, y-you don’t have to do that!”\n\n“And why’s that?”\n\n“Because… Because… ‘C-Cause, uh…” His voice shrunk away, small and quiet, little more than a soft whimper.\n\nFinally, the panda’s patience found its end. “[i]Lynn.[/i]”\n\nHearing his voice raise, the boy flinched, grimaced, clamped his eyes shut, folding into himself—a trembling, terrified huddle. That was it, then; he was caught. Droplets sprung from the corners of his eyes, turned to streams as a small, sputtering sob escaped him. Already, he could feel the disappointment in the father’s glare searing a hole through him, so scathing that it hurt even to imagine it. But then, he felt the tenderest touch—fingers scritching at his neck, stroking, caressing, calming him. Through welling tears he opened his view, to find his neighbor knelt down to the bathroom tile. Nowhere was the frustration he believed would greet him—only concern and worry and sympathy.\n\n“Tell me the truth,” the parent implored.\n\nThe boy’s lip quivered, his sad eyes begged. “I-I… I [i]c-can’t[/i]…”\n\n“Why not?”\n\nHe sniffled and hiccupped, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Because you’ll be mad at me…”\n\nThe panda retreated, taken aback, as though remorse had slapped his face. “Mad at—oh goodness, no. Sweetheart, you’re okay, you’re [i]okay[/i]…” Calm, careful, the patron neared once more, fingers swabbing the corners of Lynn’s eyes to clear them of those sorrows. “I’m not mad at you. Of course I’m not. I just wanna know what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”\n\n“But it’s embarrassing…” the boy mewled.\n\nOn his back, a palm settled with delicate weight, rubbing, caressing—a steadying presence. He raised his head from the doldrums, found the father smiling at him—a loving kindness.\n\n“It doesn’t have to be,” said dad. “I promise I won’t judge.”\n\n“Y-You…promise…?” asked the kit, his eyes glittering with hope and tears.\n\n“Cross my heart!” the panda beamed.\n\nFor a moment, the tyke paused in consideration. He returned his sights to the ground and clinked his toe-claws along the tiles—all while his face twisted, torn betwixt anguish and optimism. Soon, though, he looked up to the man in mercy. “And…c-can you promise you won’t t-tell my m-mom…?”\n\n“Absolutely. Whatever it is, it’ll be our secret. You can trust me.”\n\nThat was comfort enough to allay Lynn’s fears. Even still, he struggled to speak, to admit his wants, eyes shifting restlessly in search of the right words, if not some way to escape the conversation altogether. Silently absorbed, he chewed his lip, jittered in place, squeezed the ball in his mitts, sinking his fingers into its squidgy plastic encasement. Whenever his gaze landed on the gooey bundle in his grasp, he felt his cheeks burn ever brighter at the thought of it, let alone what his confession would mean. Seeing him flounder, however, the red panda soon stepped up to relieve him.\n\n“Maybe it’d be easier if I ask some questions?” he broached. “How about that?”\n\nBashfully the child stared at him, twiddled his thumbs, meekly nodded. Stripped of their tension, the adult’s shoulders sank with a deep inhale, a relaxed exhale.\n\n“All right,” he started. “Be honest, now: you snagged it from Seri’s pail, didn’t you?”\n\nThe accusation—his guilt—made the fox’s skin hot, turning the appropriate hue of red to match. A sorry nod was his only answer.\n\n“Was there a reason you took it?” dad pressed.\n\nAs Lynn began to speak, he found the words, predictably, caught on his tongue. Down to his side he looked away, swallowing, stammering, “I-I was…c-curious…”\n\n“Abouuut…?”\n\nHis eyes darted, peered every which way but the adult’s, in search of an answer. Only, when he found none, he squirmed in place, whimpered with an awkward, rustling crunch of his legs against the bulk of his bedtime pants. Yet his neighbor was anything but impatient—nothing less than assuring.\n\n“It’s okay, Lynn. Take your time.”\n\nWith his ears folded back, his tail tightly tucked, and his cheeks practically combusting, after a few moments, he had gathered the courage needed. The answer was like a burning coal choking him. “I…wanted to know how it f-felt… How the…the, um…”\n\nHis voice trailed, lowered to barely a whisper, same as his confidence. In his eyes flickered the faintest fear—the fear that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. Now, his skin was frigid, his sweat cold, his stomach roiling.\n\n“How the…th-the diaper…felt…”\n\nIn turn, beset by confusion, the man skewed his head. “But you’ve already got one on, champ.”\n\n“Y-Yeah, but I…I w-wanted to know about…[i]hers[/i]…after she, um…”\n\nThat was all the panda needed to piece the puzzle together. When at last it dawned on him, the man’s visage twisted slowly—like a knife in the boy’s heart—from perplexity to shock. “Wait. You mean…?”\n\n“I’ve…wondered what it’s like for a long time…” Lynn admitted, eyes winced shut, almost pained. “Putting on someone’s…d-d-diaper…after they’d used it…”\n\nIt was not the revelation the adult had expected—certainly, not even close. Still, he stayed mum, even as it brought a million questions to his hanging mouth, brought his sights widening, less with distaste than intrigue. Soaking in his reaction, the kit shriveled and stiffened, swallowed against his clenching throat and the nerves bubbling up inside.\n\n“I’ve had dreams about it, ever since I was four… I still do…”\n\n“What…kind of dreams?”\n\n“L-Like, uh…” Modest and meek, he shrank into himself. His claws tapped together, fingers twiddling, as he gulped down those welling anxieties. “Like being in daycare, or school, and getting a diaper that another kid had…p-pooped…and having to wear it ‘cause the grown-ups wanted me to…”\n\n“…Was there a reason they did that?”\n\n“S-Sometimes? I mean, it wasn’t always the same dream—not usually. Maybe they’d do it ‘cause I was being bad, or ‘cause they were outta clean ones, and either way, they wanted to punish me. At first, I didn’t know why—why I was thinking about that stuff. But then, after a while, I started…l-liking it…and the dreams started changing too. Now, whenever they make me wear them, it’s ‘cause I was being good, and they’d always say it’s what good boys wear, or how…good boys h-help their friends. Sometimes, I’d even ask them if I could try it, and the grown-ups would let me. And those dreams…I always…wake up happy after them.” He paused once more. Even thinking about it flustered him. “I know it sounds gross—I know it [i]is[/i] gross, and dirty, and…wrong. But I can’t help it… My chest gets all fluttery when I think about it, and…I just want it so bad…”\n\nHaving naught else to say for himself, he stared in penance up at his neighbor, utterly mortified to find him staring back, stunned into silence, contemplating his words. That alone nearly brought the boy to tears. He wilted under that burning gaze, held his breath while he waited for him to speak, to question, to chastise—to say anything at all. But the longer the moment hung, the more a horrible, harrowing worry sickened him to his stomach. His heart dropped. A chill gripped his lungs. Perhaps he had judged poorly—had poured his soul to the wrong person—and for that, he would pay the price. His own mother would know of this. Already, he could hear the lectures, envision the punishments, feel the humiliation coming his way.\n\nInstead, without warning, turmoil turned to humor—from the panda, a full-belly chuckle, a paw in front of his muzzle, a brimming grin behind.\n\n“Oh my God, that’s [i]adorable[/i]…”\n\nIt was not the reaction the pup had expected—surely, not even close. At that, he flinched, a deer in headlights as the father closed in, paw bracing his neck, nose nuzzling his cheek.\n\n“Kiddo, is [i]that[/i] all? That’s [i]nothing[/i]!” he exclaimed. “I thought maybe you were doing something unsafe. Don’t scare me like that, you stinker.”\n\n“You… Y-You don’t think it’s weird…?” he asked, in his bushy tail a timid, hopeful flicker.\n\n“A little weird, maybe. And sure, a bit…unhygienic. But we’re all a little weird, aren’t we? You can’t help what you want, even if it’s something people would find gross.”\n\nStreaks of rosy pink simmered to the surface, a light burn plastered over his snout, a quiver to his lip. All his fears, all his loathing, all his secrets—it was as if their weight seemed to tumble from his shoulders, and without it, for the first time, he felt light as air. Into dad’s waiting arms he plunged, burying into his chest, still clutching his pilfered prize. There, in the man’s warmth, taken by his gentle swaying, Lynn closed his eyes.\n\n“Th-Thank you…” he muttered, and sniffled.\n\nLight laughter, hushed cooing—the panda stroked through his boy’s scruff, down his back, over his duster, smoothing the frazzled kinks in his fur. “Poor baby. I bet that was hard to keep bottled up. Next time, you just come straight to me when something that big is bothering you, okay?”\n\nSlowly, he nodded into the adult’s shirt. “I will…”\n\n“And maybe warn me before you steal my daughter’s diapers?” the panda chortled.\n\n“Oh, a-ah, um, s-sorry…” the tot stuttered, self-consciously retreating from his embrace. For a wistful second too long, his gaze lingered on the bundle in his mitts. How disappointing, to surrender something so perfect…\n\n“Now what’s with [i]that[/i] look?” asked his neighbor, sweetly smirking. “I’m not telling you to put it back, you know.”\n\nThose words perked the kit, raising his head, his ears, his tail—his heart. He pulled back, gawked wordless at the panda, whose smile stretched ever the wider at his reaction.\n\n“Well? You said you’re curious, right? You’ve already got it out, and I don’t have a problem with it. Might as well let you try it on for size!”\n\nHard and fast, the realization struck him. His eyes swelled into lakes, accompanying a quiet sputter, a tighter cling to his ill-gotten parcel. His gaze drifted down to peer at that pink, stained garment, gripped by a feeling of revulsion, of shame—of desire. Fluttering wings filled his stomach, to even consider that dream might be his to live.\n\nBut he had little time to reflect. Soon, a paw slipped under his chin, fingers lifting, guiding his sights to meet the father panda, with his face full of warmth and care and understanding.\n\n“And don’t think it has to be just this once, either. If it hits the spot for you, maybe we can make it a new thing—give you a nice, steady supply of dirty ‘undies’ to wear whenever you visit, since those are what good boys wear. Is that something you’d want?”\n\nLong the fox stared at the adult, in silence, in awe at the proposal. In his wildest fantasies, he had never dared to imagine anything of the sort—had never imagined he could even ask for it. These were shameful obsessions, neither to be celebrated nor indulged, only shunned. Yet here his neighbor was, extending his deepest, darkest desire to him on a silver platter, with a willing heart and a loving smile. Despite all his conflict, his reservations, his doubts, and before a thought to the contrary could dissuade him, he felt the answer leave his tongue.\n\n“I want it…” he pled. “I really…[i]really[/i] want it…”\n\nAt that, his neighbor stood, offering him his hand with fatherly fondness. “Then let’s go before it gets cold.”\n\nThe kit watched it with awful anticipation, a drum beating in his ears, his chest. And soon, he reached out, cautiously optimistic, to grab hold—sealing the deal, and with it, his fate.\n\nEven now, he scarce believed it was real. His head was swimming, in a trance as he waddled down the hallway behind the panda—in one hand his guardian’s grasp, in the other his friend’s discarded diaper. At the end of the corridor, they stopped outside the bedroom, leaving Lynn to linger, to rock impatiently on his heels while dad squeaked open the door, poked his head inside. All was quiet and dark, just as he had left it. He glanced over his shoulder at the tot, met his shy stare with a crook of his head, motioning them in.\n\nA gentle tug, a soft click—with but the pull of a cord, the room was cast in shadows, bathed in the serene glow of lamplight from beside the changing table. After a moment to smooth the mattress, fluff the pillow, the adult soon turned to the arctic fox, a palm presented toward the package in the boy’s mitts. Lynn swallowed hard. His trembling hands reached out, plopped it into the man’s waiting grasp, exchanged for a pleased simper and an affectionate tousle of his head-fluff. Setting it to the side, his chaperone peered down at him, patted the edge of the changing mat with an inviting grin; with trepidation, the fox complied. Calm, careful, he climbed the stepstool at its base, toddling his way up to the top, where he hooked his bulk-spread leg over the rim and pushed himself by his arms onto the padded top. As soon as his head met the cushion, his neighbor’s paws were tugging at his pajama bottoms, shimmying them down.\n\n“Let’s just get [i]these[/i] off…”\n\nIn no time, his pants slipped free of his legs, puddled at the foot of the mat, leaving his posterior exposed. His was the very same nighttime protection as Serina’s: two inches of swaddling thickness, a boyish blue to contrast her girlish pink, a full, starry sky adorning its front—still dry and fresh. Down to his level dad bent, inspecting, admiring, tracing a finger along its shell to hear that satisfying rustle.\n\n“Good,” he praised. “Guess we won’t need to clean you up. Now, let’s see…” Gingerly, his paw snagged the bulgy pink ball at his side, brought it over where they both could see it, only for the panda to stop and stare, lost in pondering. A stumped expression dragged at his brow; a finger tapped at his chin. “Ah, hmm… How do we approach this…?”\n\nAll of the commotion had not gone unheard, however. Behind them, the lump in Serina’s bed stirred from slumber, shifting and turning and tossing the covers off, baring her face to the soft incandescence. Without her blanket to shield her, the young panda grimaced, groaned, blinked her eyes open to see the blur of her father’s shadow amidst the glare. She sat straight up with a quiet squish, a yawn, a stretch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.\n\n“Dad…? What’re you doin’?” asked the girl, quite groggy, and quite soggy. Though her vision quickly cleared, her questions only doubled when next she spied her vulpine friend lain atop the changing station, visibly alarmed to see her awake. She tilted her head. “Did Lynn spring a leak or some’n?”\n\nHer father chuckled. “Noooot exactly. Just a little something special we’re doing for him. Why don’t you come watch, sunshine?”\n\nCuriosity tugged the eight-year-old out of bed and into a totter across the room, hobbled by her puffy nightwear, her gently-soaked underpants wedging her legs apart. At her back, her long, fluffy ring-tail dragged over the floor. By her side, her favorite stuffed cuddle-mate, a black and white Siberian husky, followed firmly in hand. Although, fascinated as she was, still she grumbled the whole way there while digging her knuckles through her eyes.\n\n“Firs’ you wan’ me to sleep, then you wan’ me to get up… Make up your mind, daddy… Nnehhh…”\n\nAfter her brief sojourn, she was over to the facilities, hiking to the top of the stairs, front row to the evening show. Lynn, understandably, was less than enthused for the audience, and more than a smidge embarrassed to meet her there face-to-face under the circumstances. Their eyes momentarily crossed, hers only half-awake, before her wandering gaze fell upon his waistline, staring at the closed pink package nearby—[i]her[/i] diaper, she immediately recognized.\n\nSuddenly, her lids lifted fully open, staring, blinking. Whether it was the peculiar sight or her sleep-fogged head, something simply was not adding up.\n\n“…Ummm?”\n\n“We’re putting Lynn in your poopy pants for the night,” said dad, matter-of-fact.\n\nSuch bluntness was a devastating strike on the poor fox, whose hands shot up, swiftly sheltering his reddening face. By contrast, it only provoked more intrigue from the girl.\n\n“Wwwwwhy…?”\n\n“Well, he wanted to try them out. They looked [i]so nice[/i], he just couldn’t help himself, could you, sweetie?”\n\nThe boy was nothing shy of bashful—a dismayed groan, his ears falling back, his sights peeping through the cracks in his fingers. In return, Serina’s father simply chuckled.\n\n“So we’re running a little experiment. And if it works out, we might be keeping him in your old diapers from now on whenever he’s visiting, as a treat. Just gotta run it past mom in the morning and see what she thinks.”\n\nPerhaps uncertain what to believe, the drowsy tyke turned to her partner on the tabletop. Lynn could only smear his hands down his face, could only turn his head and stare at her sideways.\n\n“It’s a long story…” he murmured, awkward.\n\nHis timidity, however, was what made everything click. Rather abruptly, the girl’s countenance twisted from confusion to amusement. “Huh. Sounds silly to me,” snickered the cub. Shortly after, she tipped forward, arms crossed on the tables edge, and propped her head in their cradle. “I don’t get it, but I [i]totally[/i] wanna watch this.”\n\n“[i]That’s[/i] my girl,” lauded her father.\n\nShock, shame, a smidge of betrayal—they sank Lynn’s expression, sent him hunching up, shutting his eyes, hiding from his best friend’s childish interest in his humiliation. He should have expected as much; his embarrassment was ever a game to her, and one for which she thrilled herself in running up the score. Worse than taking jabs at him, she was treating him like a spectacle. And that devilish, entertained smirk plastered all across her face—the killing blow.\n\nGraced with his daughter’s approval, then—for whatever it was worth—the panda parent began in earnest. His fingers peeled at that bulbous bundle’s tapes, mindful not to rip the sides as he methodically removed each. Now stripped, he unfolded the thick, sludgy parcel, exposed its contents to the open air. Instantly, its odor, strong and pungent, smacked Lynn’s nostrils and brought his gaze across his chest. There, he caught the clearest glimpse of his prize yet—its sodden interior drenched in yellow, its leg-cuffs caked in brown, its contours well and truly full from front to back. Evidently, its contents had slushed and shifted from being balled and handled, in no small part aided by his failed heist. The sheer volume of it caught him off-guard—scalded his cheeks with deepest scarlet.\n\n“Don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn [i]that[/i] color before!” giggled Serina.\n\nSpotting the fox peeking, dad laughed. “You know, you don’t have to watch if you’re nervous. You’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with it when it’s on you.”\n\nHis head promptly swung away, opting instead to seek solace with his girlfriend, whose ruthless grin could have stretched for miles. The adult, meanwhile, unfurled the present, lain out and stretched along the table, positioned readily beside the fox’s hips. From its insides, his fingers plucked out the many spent baby wipes from his daughter’s earlier change, piece by piece, slow and careful, until each had been tossed into the nearby trash can. Then, he popped the tapes to the fox’s padded pants, brought the front free of his lotioned loins, now exposed to the air. A single hand grasped his ankles together and hoisted them high, raising his bottom from the mat while a free paw slid the clean slip out from underneath. And in its absence, Lynn felt the touch of cool plastic, a heavy weight scooting along the top of his tail, an elastic cuff wrapping loosely about his tail-base—his old, barely worn diaper replaced by a new, much filthier one. There was no need to wipe him clean, nor for another coating of rash cream; a thorough sprinkling of baby powder over his groan would suffice, and a blizzard’s worth into the diaper’s mucky confines, concealing the swamp in a layer of pristine, wintry white.\n\nFinally, at long last, the moment had come. Both of the adult’s paws grabbed at his ankles, separated them, born aloft over the pile beneath his bare bottom. And knowing what awaited him, the fox’s face was utterly flush with color.\n\n“All right. I’m gonna put you down in it,” warned dad.\n\nHis legs made their inevitable descent, heels hitting the mat, breath stolen from his chest in a gasp, a jolt. It was unlike anything he could have imagined—that sensation of his rear sinking deep in mud, a cushion of compost glurshing out from under him; so entirely foreign, going from clean and pristine to grimy and slimy. Warmer than any hug, cozier than any blanket, that foul, soiled feeling swathed his backside, and soon, his loins, when that heavy, sodden diaper-front was pulled up through his spread thighs, damp and humid and grody the way it slickened his fur. His guardian’s paws worked expertly to flatten the wings flush around his waist, to pin them in place with those four powerful tapes, each sticking tight like glue through their reuse. In the end, he got what he always wanted: swaddled in secondhand silt—his loftiest wish, fulfilled without fuss.\n\n“Done and dusted!” dad announced, proudly beaming at his handiwork. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I could get used to changing you like that. And I guess I’ll have to!”\n\nAlready, Lynn’s face simmered in staring at his waist—meekly mortified, speechlessly satisfied at that pink, puffy Pamper. Along the changing pad his bottom wriggled, testing the feel for himself. Layers of fluffy muck encased him, of a softness words could scarce describe, pairing pleasantly with the half-liter of red panda piddle soaking its middle and back.\n\n“It’s still warm…” the tyke purred.\n\nGripped by his underarms, firm paws soon sat him straight up into the thick of the swamp with a vulgar smulch, a humbled wince. Between his legs it curdled, bunching against the leak-guards, threatening to breach, and still the gathers held strong against the tide. But he was offered little time to relax. Deftly, his neighbor strapped the one remaining tape over his tail, before lifting him free of the table. As his toes touched down on the carpet, his diaper bounced, sagged, shifted, swayed—fuzzy tush snuggled by tepid mush, clumps peeling loose to settle in the basin. How sickening the sensations, in the most enjoyable way—not unlike the butterflies in his stomach, their euphoric wingbeats filling him with funny feelings. Keen to explore, his eyes wandered to his front, to admire his diaper’s faded designs, the swollen curve, the mottling. Together, as far as they would go, his legs squeezed inward, splashing and squishing with clammy, tingly fluids. It was strange, as a boy in girl’s garb, to feel the wetness pooled betwixt his thighs, up his backend, and nary a drop wicking to front. And of course, in his nostrils, a rich bouquet of baby powder and mess—still fresh, still foul, and none of it his own making. Every part of him, from his face to his very senses, was on fire.\n\nSuddenly, a full palm came upon his bum, made him jump as it shoved into the mire, cradling, hefting, patting the full breadth of that soft slurry against him. Back and forth, on and off, it rubbed that rustling bulk, squeezed it to the sound of splutting clay, coaxed it through the space in his wedged legs. He could not stifle his moaning, nor could he help but lift his rump, legs shivering, tail twitching, to let his friend’s father work the mulch in all the right ways. Such a reaction earned a chuckle from the adult.\n\n“How’s it feel, kit?” he asked him. “Everything you hoped it’d be?”\n\nThe arctic fox lowered his head, glanced up and around, gave a bashful nod. If not for his admission, his tail would have snitched on him regardless, wagging of its own volition and stirring the mixture in his seat with a mushy slush. Truly, it was every, single, solitary ounce as wonderful as he dared to dream—a forbidden fruit, deliciously savored. And while the father grinned, his daughter giggled.\n\n“And, what, you’re gonna sleep like that?” teased Serina.\n\n“That’s [i]exactly[/i] what he’s gonna do,” said dad. He gave the kit a smooch between his flattening ears, another squeeze to his gooey seat. “He doesn’t have a choice anymore. These are the only kind he’s getting. And we’ll make being dirty so normal, it’ll feel weird when he’s [i]not[/i].”\n\nTo that remark, he quietly gulped, scrunched his shoulders, held his head low. His paws gripped at his shirt hem, tugging it down as if to conceal his disgrace, while his paws fiddled with it, kneading and squishing his handed-down diaper in the process. His cheeks were suns, glowing a bright and furious red straight past their downy white fluff. His sights stayed fixed to a single spot on the carpet, letting the snickering of his friend wash over him like the rest of his embarrassment. But try as he might to hide it all, his brush wiggling between his legs, paired with the gross slush of his pants, betrayed his joy. Through his stomach fell waves of disgust, and with them, the most shameful, most indescribable excitement. This was his normal now—perpetually unclean, kept stewing in another’s leavings, until it was time for a brand-new, freshly filled, equally yucky diaper. That Serina would be clean at his expense made the contrast in their situations all the more humiliating.\n\n“Now,” resumed dad, “if you’re all comfy-cozy in your ‘new’ britches, let’s get your jammies back on and put that butt back in bed.” He looked to his daughter, flicked his hand at the wrist at her, shooing her off. “You too, missy. March.”\n\n“Yeeees, daaaad,” the girl playfully groaned, rolling her eyes.\n\nWhile Serina trotted off, plush husky in tow, Lynn lingered patiently for his carer to whisk his pajama pants down from the bench. The adult held his bottoms open at floor level, waited for the tyke to step through the leg-holes, lifted them up and around his now rather puffy rump. The fit was quite different than what he remembered—nothing left to the imagination the way it hugged his saggy seat; the way his distended diaper flattened the fabric’s creases; the way its frilled waistband stuck out above the rim; the way its bawdy contents nestled closer to his bum. But then, there was very little about it he disliked, such that he found himself curiously admiring his rear-end’s perfect shape from over his shoulder.\n\n“Dad, d’you mind if Lynn sleeps with me?” the panda cub suddenly suggested. Already, she was burrowing into bed, stuffy tucked to her side.\n\nHer father cocked his brow, laughed in his throat. “Where’s this coming from?”\n\n“I wanna snuggle with him so he’s not lonely,” she answered, sweetly and—perhaps most surprising of all—sincerely. Cool and casual, she threw her head back onto her pillow, neck in her paws, a big grin spreading her muzzle. “And ‘sides, I don’t mind him bein’ all smelly. I’m used to my own smell anyway.”\n\nThough he whined and fussed, indignant at her backhanded compliment, there was no denying the fox’s meek approval—showing through as the tiniest, smushing wag of his tail through his hobbled legs. She would never be so genuine were she scheming some tease at his expense. Recognizing his charge’s agreement, the adult shrugged his shoulders.\n\n“Well, you heard the little lady,” said the man, patting his little boy’s bottom off to join his daughter. “Best not keep her waiting!”\n\nHis pants sloshed, his feet staggered, timidly toddling toward his friend’s cot while she scooted over, making room. As he clambered in beside her, he felt his seat sway with every shift of his hips, awkward and unwieldy, bulky and bloated. The odor of his inherited accident seemed only to worsen once he had made himself at home under the duvet—a fact that slapped him as squarely as it slapped his nose. He feared it worse for his bedmate, however, and shot her a remorseful grimace.\n\n“S-Sorry… I know it stinks…” the kit apologized.\n\nYet his partner only sniggered in response. “Aw, c’mon, it’s not [i]that[/i] bad,” she claimed. “I should know; I’m the one who made it!”\n\nOnce the pair had settled in, her father was soon at their bedside pulling the comforter up to their shoulders, tucking them in for the last time that evening. He leaned down, gave his daughter’s forehead a loving peck. “Goodnight, darling.”\n\n“G’night, dad…”\n\nNext, of course, a kiss for Lynn—a member of their family as much as any could be. “And you too, good boy.”\n\nA simpering smile rose to the child’s muzzle. Under the covers, his tail swished and squished—a quiet cacophony of muffled, mushy rustles. The adult could not contain his laugh, rubbing noses together with him.\n\n“We’ll get you a ‘fresher’ pair in the morning,” he promised.\n\nLynn’s blush was immediate, snout streaked in vivid pink. But whatever embarrassment he felt, it all melted away the moment that weight huddled against him—his friend cuddling up to his backside. Her arms embraced, wrapping around to his chest, protectively clinging. Beneath the blanket, her own bushy tail curled along his leg. Though he could not see her self-pleased smirk, he could certainly sense it. Not that he would object to her intimacy, of course, as he wriggled deep into the hovel with her, spooning in tranquil joy.\n\nSeeing the children happy and tucked away, and with his parenting well and truly finished for the day, the father panda departed. On his way out, he clicked off the lamp, plunged the room into nightlit darkness, before he threw one last glance at his little rascals in bed. Then, silent as a shadow, he glided through the door, leaving it cracked the slightest bit for the tiniest whisper to breeze through.\n\n“Sweet dreams, you two…”\n\nThat was it, then. A pall of evening serenity descended all through the house. For the second time that night, Lynn lay at rest. There, in a bed not his own, wearing a diaper not his own, he was snug and secure in both, bathed in the tender, radiating heat of his friend’s presence—her breath on the scruff of his nape, her filth on the seat of his rear. The scents, the sounds, the sensations—once thought gross to him, in that disgustingly desirous way, now they seemed pleasant in their familiarity. Those wafting odors were to be his new perfume. Those slushing rustles, his constant companion. With every wiggle of his bottom, each shift of his legs, that cushy muck gushed around him, rubbed against him, making him purr with timid, contented delight. This was not a dream; this was real.\n\nAnd knowing he would do it all again tomorrow? He had never slept so soundly.", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "
Shameful Obsessions
A story by Mironde

CONTENT WARNING: This story depicts child characters in mildly suggestive scenarios.



“Gang way! Special delivery coming through!”

Excited cries, pealing laughter rang through the halls of the home, mixed with the tromp of trundling feet on carpet. From around the corner, a tall red panda in shirt and slacks emerged—puffy with autumn fur, fit and slim beneath, with forest brown eyes and wispy white hair, and with the flag of his perky ringed tail fluttering behind him. He was all smiles as he raced down the corridor, carting cargo on his back and in his arms.

“Faster, dad! Heheha!”

On his shoulders rode his daughter, shouting and giggling and squirming, propped up and leaning against his head. A tiny, eight-year-old ball of fluff and joy, she was the spitting image of her father save for her short-cut auburn bob—a token of her mother’s. While one paw clutched her steed’s ear for dear life, the other bore aloft her standard, a pudgy, shapely pink orb, as if flying her colors to the world. She was not the only passenger clinging on, however. Riding shotgun below, cradled like a toddler in the parent’s arms, lay an arctic fox boy, a seven-year-old, with eyes a shimmering cerulean like dawn-dappled lakes, a softly enthused smile in spite of the bumpy ride. Matching pairs of two-piece pajamas adorned the cubs, the boy’s blue and the girl’s pink, and both styled with rocket ship designs. Beneath their sleepwear, an obvious bulk wrapped their waists, wedged their thighs, crinkling with every motion—the swaddling protection of thick, disposable diapers.

Soon enough, their romp across the abode came to its conclusion at the bedroom—a little girl’s room in naught but name. Placid greens shaded the walls, calm whites the furniture, earthy tan the carpet. The space was well-kept, vacuumed, dusted, tidy of toys stored in chests along the far edge. Flush with the walls, two identical children’s beds, a barricade of stuffed animals and plush cartoon characters canvassing their flanks and feet—two distinct tastes for two separate occupants. Beside the entry, a changing table of inviting pastel hues, of an appropriate size given the age of its users, its undershelves stocked and stacked with all the toiletries and clean garments two potty-challenged children could ever need.

Inside dad stepped, and beneath the doorframe he ducked to give his kids ample clearance to follow him through. Here, at the end of their journey, he chose to disembark his passengers in style—the first, by lightly tossing the boy in his arms, repeatedly catching him, readying for launch.

“Krshhht! Flight Control, this is Fluff-One,” the adult narrated. “Incoming air drop in three, two…!”

Before the kit could even react, he was thrown to the air, gifted unto the merciful embrace of the guest bunk’s billowy duvet, where he landed with a pwomf and a squeal. Then, the plane circled ‘round in a wide, meandering arc toward the changing station.

“Krshhht! Fluff-One to Flight Control. We’re making a detour to jettison waste product. Standby for further updates.”

Swerving, swooping, the father panda dipped and dove to his daughter’s delight, making a show of their flight over to the diaper pail. There, he bent low to let his dearest dunk the ball in her clutches—her old, well-worn Pampers—down the chute. Watching her dispose of it from afar, the arctic fox’s sights flickered with envy, lingered perhaps a tad overlong—and not on his neighbors either. His paws gently scrunched at his bedsheet.

All that remained was to complete their voyage. The patron’s paws snatched his daughter forward, gripping her sides and piloting her wriggling body on a crash course with her cot in the corner. Unlike her friend, her landing came smooth, a coasting stop, a short drop once her father released her.

“Touchdowwwwn!”

From his mattress opposite hers, stymying his embarrassment, the kit instead cackled in glee, flashed his pearly fangs in joy, clapped his paws for the spectacle. The red panda pup, conversely, rose to her knees and bounced tirelessly on them. With each enthused jump, her padded posterior plopped onto her heels, producing for her efforts a loud, infantile rustle.

“Let’s go again! C’mon!” cheered Serina, the panda’s progeny.

“Ah-ah!” dad tsked, a silly smirk as he wagged his finger. “That’s all I’ve got in me, kiddo. You two are already up way past bedtime. Time to hit the hay.”

“Awwww, no fair…” Her shoulders plummeted, arms crossing, cheeks puffed and pouty.

Undeterred, her father simply rolled his eyes and chuckled at her cute display. “You can’t have a sleepover if you don’t sleep. That’s, like, the first rule!”

“You ask me, it’s a dumb rule,” she grumbled.

“Look, sweetie, Lynn’s probably dying to get some shuteye. You don’t want our guest to get cranky, do you?”

“I bet he doesn’t want it either…”

“Actually, uh…” chimed in Lynn, the arctic fox kit, apologetic. “I’m okay with bedtime. My mom doesn’t like me staying up this late…”

His friend glared at him, mouth agape, stung by so complete a betrayal. “Lynn!”

The boy shrank into himself. “I-I’m just saying! I don’t make the rules…”

“There’ll be plenty of daylight tomorrow, Seri-kins. You can play all you want then,” consoled her parent.

“But I’m not even—” Abruptly, her protests fell quiet when her maw swelled into a chasm, a yawning void, a breath drawn deep and long. She pushed a palm to her snout in a vain effort to stifle it. “—nrgh…tired.”

Despite her protests, her father had already begun tucking her in, stuffing her under her bedspread. As her eyelids waned and drooped and shut, a gentle kiss to her cheek was all dad needed to send her off into deepest slumber. Gone was that insatiable energy, that tomboyish spunk—near-instantly conked out without the slightest resistance. But Lynn needed no such convincing; he was fast beneath the sheets, snuggled, secure, waiting for his guardian with only the snowcapped summits of his ears peaking over the ridge. When the man’s light footsteps finally arrived at his bedside, the child poked out of hiding, beamed at him, tittered as that strong, supple palm ruffled the fluff betwixt his triangles.

“Do you need anything else, kitkit?” offered the panda. “Another blanket? A stuffy? Maybe a paci’? …Dry pants? If you’ve gotta tinkle, now’s the time to tell me!”

A gentle blush smoldered in the boy’s cheeks, a hushed rustle beneath the covers as his brush swished the mattress. Their hospitality flattered him, as always. “I’m f-fine, I think. Thanks, um…Seri’s dad.”

Smiling, the father pan stood tall and reared back, cracked his spine and groaned. “Well, you come grab us if you need anything at all—even a hug. You know it’s just a short hop away.”

And with that, he took his leave—crossed the threshold, flicked off the light switch, eased the door shut until it was but barely ajar. Lynn followed suit, turning on his side in bed with his peepers shut. He listened in as the atmosphere around him deafened, as room by room, bulb by bulb, the shroud of nighttime enveloped the home. So soothing it was that it took all he had to fight off the fog creeping over his thoughts, to keep from drifting out to sea on the tide. Eventually, the last door in the domicile closed—the red panda parents, their kids seemingly asleep, themselves resigning for the night.

Minutes passed in sweet, peaceful silence.

…And then, one of the arctic fox’s eyes peeked open to the empty darkness. The room had gone completely still, dead as night. Slowly, he pulled his comforter away, sat straight up in bed and stared around him, before settling on the lump in his friend’s bed. Her soft snoring hummed in his ears.

“Seri…? You awake?” he whispered across the gap.

No response—not so much as a peep from the panda.

That was his cue. Quiet as could be, he threw his sheets off and rolled out of bed, paws touching down on the plush playroom rug. He paused in place, scanned the room for any signs of movement, perked his ears on high alert for even the slightest noise to suggest the house was awake. All he saw was his friend’s bedsheets rising and falling; all he heard was her snoozing, and soon, his own rustling steps setting into motion. Through the darkness, guided by a nightlight’s faint glow, he slinked toward the changing table on the opposite wall—a sluggish journey given the hobbling bulk of his sleepwear, the thick overnight diaper throwing wide his gait. Soon enough, though, he had fumbled his way past the changing mat, the cabinets, the supplies, all the way to the diaper pail beside the station.

Again, Lynn halted, looked, listened, hearing only the drum of his galloping heart in his ears. His brush lashed nervously behind him. He gulped hard.

His hands went fast to work probing the wastebin, seeking an entry point. When he tried threading his arm in through the top, to his chagrin, he barely made it past his elbow before he was stuck, yanking himself free of the beast’s jaws. Lifting the lid proved the better option, easily pried once he had his claws under the seam, dislodging it. Yet the instant it was off, his paws flew over his nose, shielding his snout from a blast of stale air, a rank and odorous wind—of fertilizer and ammonia, days-old diapers, some even his own. On instinct, he snapped his head away, wincing, whining, nearly retching.

After a moment to gather himself, and after a minute to quell his stomach, he found the courage to hold his breath and peek inside. Within, he found what he wanted: that balled-up parcel, plump and pink, sitting halfway down at the peak of the heap—a girl’s nighttime diaper, the very same his friend had filled not ten minutes ago that prompted a last-minute change of pants before bed. A hollow pang, a skipped beat tugged at his heart, seeing it there. And without a second thought to the contrary, he leaned up on his tiptoes and clambered over the rim, stretching his limb down into the depths. Heady aromas followed it, swarming his nostrils as he fished the package from its prison. It was far less ripe, far more fragrant than the others—sickly sweet with powder and piddle and poop.

Briefly, he turned to his slumbering partner, who had buried her way farther into her den, entirely oblivious to his antics. He worked discreetly to remount the pail’s covering, to steal away with his ill-gotten gains, to crack the bedroom door and sneak out into the hall.

The tranquil blanket of night had indeed taken the rest of the home in its hold. From down the pitch-black corridor, lit by the orange tint of a nightlight, all was quiet save for the hiss of water and peaceful hum of the kitchen’s dishwasher. Not even Serina’s parents were awake judging by the silence from their chambers when he tiptoed past, without the clamor of television static or late-night talk shows he had expected. No time to check, however; he hurried two doors down, where his paw pads left the warm rug for the cool tile. Clean sterility greeted him in the light—white and beige, porcelain and marble; a walk-in shower, towels fresh on the rack beside; a toilet he had never and likely would never use.

Now, with a measure of privacy, he secured himself in the commode, swiftly pushed the door behind him, and heaved a sigh of relief he had not realized his lungs were holding, almost painfully. If his heart had raced before, it threatened to leap out of his chest before long. His teeth chattered, as did every part of him from head to toe. In his nerves, he nearly dropped the ball to the floor were it not for his claws hooked around it. On his face, a flash of euphoria, a timid smile surfaced.

“This is real…” he muttered. “Oh gosh, this is real…”

Sly, proud, he glanced upon the discarded diaper. Rarely had he the privilege to hold his used ones before, never mind someone else’s. So alien the experience, he could not help himself but to shift it in his hands, squeeze it with his fingers, bulbous and squidgy and spongey to the touch. It was the same as his own underwear, the same brand and plushness, and undoubtedly just as comfortable, perhaps more so with its previous wearer’s…additions. Colorful designs—a bedtime motif of stars and moons, with slumbering teddy bears draped over them—were strewn along its pink shell, all of them faded and blurred from front to back in a haze of muted yellow. Though tucked tight and taped shut, behind its frilled leg-cuffs lay a visible smear of brown—a hint of the foulness inside, seeping through the fabric ever so slightly. Its soft, still-warm contents weighed heavy as pounds in his paws, slowly shifting like sludge when he spun it in his grasp, and all of it only a single accident’s worth. Had he not been there to witness it himself, he would have hardly believed its significance. Recalling its memory brought a tinge to his cheeks—Serina freshly garbed from her bath, legs slightly squat, cheeks puffed and grunting, tail hiked high as a kite, as dinner made its inopportune exit. And to think, it was finally his to do with as he pleased.

Tighter drew his throat, still his breathing, and deafeningly loud his thumping heart. Hands trembling, he moved to unpeel the first tape, stuck his claw under the adhesive—

“Lynn?”

“Ahh!”

A creaking door, a gentle voice—from behind, they startled him. He nearly jolted out of his skin, nearly lost his prize when his paws tossed it to the air, before quickly fumbling to snatch it, squeezing it tightly to his chest. Around his shoulder his head swung to spy his trespasser standing in the doorway: Serina’s father, staring bewildered at him. Instantly, he froze, stiffened, panicked at the unexpected intrusion. Only then did he realize, in his haste, and to his immediate regret, he had forgotten to shut the bathroom door all the way.

“What are you still doing up?” asked dad, kindly concerned. “You need some water?”

The arctic fox stared dumbly at him, open-mouthed with alarm. Quickly, he perked up, swiveled around as he shuffled his hands behind his back, stowing that vibrant blob just barely out of sight.

“A-Ah, yes!” he said. Nervously, he flashed a faltering smile, and his ear flicked. “Yeah, I…got up to get s-some water… I didn’t think I’d need any, b-but, uh, yeah! Haha…”

But his fussy fidgeting, his guilty tics, his skittish posture—they provoked no shortage of suspicion from his neighbor, who had already begun to crane his neck, to steal a peek at the secret he was terribly keeping. “What’s that behind your back?” he asked.

Lynn flinched, wilted at the question. With wide eyes, he threw his glance sideways in acknowledgement. “Oh, uh, this? Uh, that, it’s…”

Further dad leaned forward, gripped by curiosity. Further the kit wriggled backward, in his vain effort to stall the inevitable. Backed into a corner as he was, and with no choice but to come clean, he swallowed the knot in his throat, reluctantly brought forth the parcel, and showed it to him as innocuously and benevolently as he could. Understandably, the patron was surprised, left only to blink in confused silence.

“Isn’t that…?”

Busted.

A shameful swath of heat crossed the boy’s face, more scarlet now than white. His fingers dug deeper into the plastic carapace. His gaze flittered everywhere at once. He spluttered for words. “Yeah, uh, ah, it, that, I, uh…”

“Lyyyyynn,” chided the father panda. “What are you doing with that?”

“I-I, uh… I…found it! On the floor!” the child excused. “I found it on the f-floor in here, when I went to get some water. And I…was…j-just gonna take it to Seri’s room to th-throw it away.”

“That’s weird. Can’t imagine we forgot to toss it,” the panda mused, an eyebrow skeptically cocked. “…Or how it got in here, for that matter.”

“Y-Yeah, I know. I thought it was weird too.”

“And you’re sure you found it in here?”

His frantic, insistent nodding did little to help his case, for which the adult eyed him up and down—scrutinizing him, from his trembling paws, his curled toes, his tail wound around his leg. The writing was plainly on the wall for both to see.

“Hmm… Maybe I’d better check Seri’s bin, just in case,” dad countered.

“N-No!” Lynn blurted out, only to hastily reel his volume back in. “Ah, I m-m-mean, y-you don’t have to do that!”

“And why’s that?”

“Because… Because… ‘C-Cause, uh…” His voice shrunk away, small and quiet, little more than a soft whimper.

Finally, the panda’s patience found its end. “Lynn.”

Hearing his voice raise, the boy flinched, grimaced, clamped his eyes shut, folding into himself—a trembling, terrified huddle. That was it, then; he was caught. Droplets sprung from the corners of his eyes, turned to streams as a small, sputtering sob escaped him. Already, he could feel the disappointment in the father’s glare searing a hole through him, so scathing that it hurt even to imagine it. But then, he felt the tenderest touch—fingers scritching at his neck, stroking, caressing, calming him. Through welling tears he opened his view, to find his neighbor knelt down to the bathroom tile. Nowhere was the frustration he believed would greet him—only concern and worry and sympathy.

“Tell me the truth,” the parent implored.

The boy’s lip quivered, his sad eyes begged. “I-I… I c-can’t…”

“Why not?”

He sniffled and hiccupped, rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “Because you’ll be mad at me…”

The panda retreated, taken aback, as though remorse had slapped his face. “Mad at—oh goodness, no. Sweetheart, you’re okay, you’re okay…” Calm, careful, the patron neared once more, fingers swabbing the corners of Lynn’s eyes to clear them of those sorrows. “I’m not mad at you. Of course I’m not. I just wanna know what’s going on. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

“But it’s embarrassing…” the boy mewled.

On his back, a palm settled with delicate weight, rubbing, caressing—a steadying presence. He raised his head from the doldrums, found the father smiling at him—a loving kindness.

“It doesn’t have to be,” said dad. “I promise I won’t judge.”

“Y-You…promise…?” asked the kit, his eyes glittering with hope and tears.

“Cross my heart!” the panda beamed.

For a moment, the tyke paused in consideration. He returned his sights to the ground and clinked his toe-claws along the tiles—all while his face twisted, torn betwixt anguish and optimism. Soon, though, he looked up to the man in mercy. “And…c-can you promise you won’t t-tell my m-mom…?”

“Absolutely. Whatever it is, it’ll be our secret. You can trust me.”

That was comfort enough to allay Lynn’s fears. Even still, he struggled to speak, to admit his wants, eyes shifting restlessly in search of the right words, if not some way to escape the conversation altogether. Silently absorbed, he chewed his lip, jittered in place, squeezed the ball in his mitts, sinking his fingers into its squidgy plastic encasement. Whenever his gaze landed on the gooey bundle in his grasp, he felt his cheeks burn ever brighter at the thought of it, let alone what his confession would mean. Seeing him flounder, however, the red panda soon stepped up to relieve him.

“Maybe it’d be easier if I ask some questions?” he broached. “How about that?”

Bashfully the child stared at him, twiddled his thumbs, meekly nodded. Stripped of their tension, the adult’s shoulders sank with a deep inhale, a relaxed exhale.

“All right,” he started. “Be honest, now: you snagged it from Seri’s pail, didn’t you?”

The accusation—his guilt—made the fox’s skin hot, turning the appropriate hue of red to match. A sorry nod was his only answer.

“Was there a reason you took it?” dad pressed.

As Lynn began to speak, he found the words, predictably, caught on his tongue. Down to his side he looked away, swallowing, stammering, “I-I was…c-curious…”

“Abouuut…?”

His eyes darted, peered every which way but the adult’s, in search of an answer. Only, when he found none, he squirmed in place, whimpered with an awkward, rustling crunch of his legs against the bulk of his bedtime pants. Yet his neighbor was anything but impatient—nothing less than assuring.

“It’s okay, Lynn. Take your time.”

With his ears folded back, his tail tightly tucked, and his cheeks practically combusting, after a few moments, he had gathered the courage needed. The answer was like a burning coal choking him. “I…wanted to know how it f-felt… How the…the, um…”

His voice trailed, lowered to barely a whisper, same as his confidence. In his eyes flickered the faintest fear—the fear that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake. Now, his skin was frigid, his sweat cold, his stomach roiling.

“How the…th-the diaper…felt…”

In turn, beset by confusion, the man skewed his head. “But you’ve already got one on, champ.”

“Y-Yeah, but I…I w-wanted to know about…hers…after she, um…”

That was all the panda needed to piece the puzzle together. When at last it dawned on him, the man’s visage twisted slowly—like a knife in the boy’s heart—from perplexity to shock. “Wait. You mean…?”

“I’ve…wondered what it’s like for a long time…” Lynn admitted, eyes winced shut, almost pained. “Putting on someone’s…d-d-diaper…after they’d used it…”

It was not the revelation the adult had expected—certainly, not even close. Still, he stayed mum, even as it brought a million questions to his hanging mouth, brought his sights widening, less with distaste than intrigue. Soaking in his reaction, the kit shriveled and stiffened, swallowed against his clenching throat and the nerves bubbling up inside.

“I’ve had dreams about it, ever since I was four… I still do…”

“What…kind of dreams?”

“L-Like, uh…” Modest and meek, he shrank into himself. His claws tapped together, fingers twiddling, as he gulped down those welling anxieties. “Like being in daycare, or school, and getting a diaper that another kid had…p-pooped…and having to wear it ‘cause the grown-ups wanted me to…”

“…Was there a reason they did that?”

“S-Sometimes? I mean, it wasn’t always the same dream—not usually. Maybe they’d do it ‘cause I was being bad, or ‘cause they were outta clean ones, and either way, they wanted to punish me. At first, I didn’t know why—why I was thinking about that stuff. But then, after a while, I started…l-liking it…and the dreams started changing too. Now, whenever they make me wear them, it’s ‘cause I was being good, and they’d always say it’s what good boys wear, or how…good boys h-help their friends. Sometimes, I’d even ask them if I could try it, and the grown-ups would let me. And those dreams…I always…wake up happy after them.” He paused once more. Even thinking about it flustered him. “I know it sounds gross—I know it is gross, and dirty, and…wrong. But I can’t help it… My chest gets all fluttery when I think about it, and…I just want it so bad…”

Having naught else to say for himself, he stared in penance up at his neighbor, utterly mortified to find him staring back, stunned into silence, contemplating his words. That alone nearly brought the boy to tears. He wilted under that burning gaze, held his breath while he waited for him to speak, to question, to chastise—to say anything at all. But the longer the moment hung, the more a horrible, harrowing worry sickened him to his stomach. His heart dropped. A chill gripped his lungs. Perhaps he had judged poorly—had poured his soul to the wrong person—and for that, he would pay the price. His own mother would know of this. Already, he could hear the lectures, envision the punishments, feel the humiliation coming his way.

Instead, without warning, turmoil turned to humor—from the panda, a full-belly chuckle, a paw in front of his muzzle, a brimming grin behind.

“Oh my God, that’s adorable…”

It was not the reaction the pup had expected—surely, not even close. At that, he flinched, a deer in headlights as the father closed in, paw bracing his neck, nose nuzzling his cheek.

“Kiddo, is that all? That’s nothing!” he exclaimed. “I thought maybe you were doing something unsafe. Don’t scare me like that, you stinker.”

“You… Y-You don’t think it’s weird…?” he asked, in his bushy tail a timid, hopeful flicker.

“A little weird, maybe. And sure, a bit…unhygienic. But we’re all a little weird, aren’t we? You can’t help what you want, even if it’s something people would find gross.”

Streaks of rosy pink simmered to the surface, a light burn plastered over his snout, a quiver to his lip. All his fears, all his loathing, all his secrets—it was as if their weight seemed to tumble from his shoulders, and without it, for the first time, he felt light as air. Into dad’s waiting arms he plunged, burying into his chest, still clutching his pilfered prize. There, in the man’s warmth, taken by his gentle swaying, Lynn closed his eyes.

“Th-Thank you…” he muttered, and sniffled.

Light laughter, hushed cooing—the panda stroked through his boy’s scruff, down his back, over his duster, smoothing the frazzled kinks in his fur. “Poor baby. I bet that was hard to keep bottled up. Next time, you just come straight to me when something that big is bothering you, okay?”

Slowly, he nodded into the adult’s shirt. “I will…”

“And maybe warn me before you steal my daughter’s diapers?” the panda chortled.

“Oh, a-ah, um, s-sorry…” the tot stuttered, self-consciously retreating from his embrace. For a wistful second too long, his gaze lingered on the bundle in his mitts. How disappointing, to surrender something so perfect…

“Now what’s with that look?” asked his neighbor, sweetly smirking. “I’m not telling you to put it back, you know.”

Those words perked the kit, raising his head, his ears, his tail—his heart. He pulled back, gawked wordless at the panda, whose smile stretched ever the wider at his reaction.

“Well? You said you’re curious, right? You’ve already got it out, and I don’t have a problem with it. Might as well let you try it on for size!”

Hard and fast, the realization struck him. His eyes swelled into lakes, accompanying a quiet sputter, a tighter cling to his ill-gotten parcel. His gaze drifted down to peer at that pink, stained garment, gripped by a feeling of revulsion, of shame—of desire. Fluttering wings filled his stomach, to even consider that dream might be his to live.

But he had little time to reflect. Soon, a paw slipped under his chin, fingers lifting, guiding his sights to meet the father panda, with his face full of warmth and care and understanding.

“And don’t think it has to be just this once, either. If it hits the spot for you, maybe we can make it a new thing—give you a nice, steady supply of dirty ‘undies’ to wear whenever you visit, since those are what good boys wear. Is that something you’d want?”

Long the fox stared at the adult, in silence, in awe at the proposal. In his wildest fantasies, he had never dared to imagine anything of the sort—had never imagined he could even ask for it. These were shameful obsessions, neither to be celebrated nor indulged, only shunned. Yet here his neighbor was, extending his deepest, darkest desire to him on a silver platter, with a willing heart and a loving smile. Despite all his conflict, his reservations, his doubts, and before a thought to the contrary could dissuade him, he felt the answer leave his tongue.

“I want it…” he pled. “I really…really want it…”

At that, his neighbor stood, offering him his hand with fatherly fondness. “Then let’s go before it gets cold.”

The kit watched it with awful anticipation, a drum beating in his ears, his chest. And soon, he reached out, cautiously optimistic, to grab hold—sealing the deal, and with it, his fate.

Even now, he scarce believed it was real. His head was swimming, in a trance as he waddled down the hallway behind the panda—in one hand his guardian’s grasp, in the other his friend’s discarded diaper. At the end of the corridor, they stopped outside the bedroom, leaving Lynn to linger, to rock impatiently on his heels while dad squeaked open the door, poked his head inside. All was quiet and dark, just as he had left it. He glanced over his shoulder at the tot, met his shy stare with a crook of his head, motioning them in.

A gentle tug, a soft click—with but the pull of a cord, the room was cast in shadows, bathed in the serene glow of lamplight from beside the changing table. After a moment to smooth the mattress, fluff the pillow, the adult soon turned to the arctic fox, a palm presented toward the package in the boy’s mitts. Lynn swallowed hard. His trembling hands reached out, plopped it into the man’s waiting grasp, exchanged for a pleased simper and an affectionate tousle of his head-fluff. Setting it to the side, his chaperone peered down at him, patted the edge of the changing mat with an inviting grin; with trepidation, the fox complied. Calm, careful, he climbed the stepstool at its base, toddling his way up to the top, where he hooked his bulk-spread leg over the rim and pushed himself by his arms onto the padded top. As soon as his head met the cushion, his neighbor’s paws were tugging at his pajama bottoms, shimmying them down.

“Let’s just get these off…”

In no time, his pants slipped free of his legs, puddled at the foot of the mat, leaving his posterior exposed. His was the very same nighttime protection as Serina’s: two inches of swaddling thickness, a boyish blue to contrast her girlish pink, a full, starry sky adorning its front—still dry and fresh. Down to his level dad bent, inspecting, admiring, tracing a finger along its shell to hear that satisfying rustle.

“Good,” he praised. “Guess we won’t need to clean you up. Now, let’s see…” Gingerly, his paw snagged the bulgy pink ball at his side, brought it over where they both could see it, only for the panda to stop and stare, lost in pondering. A stumped expression dragged at his brow; a finger tapped at his chin. “Ah, hmm… How do we approach this…?”

All of the commotion had not gone unheard, however. Behind them, the lump in Serina’s bed stirred from slumber, shifting and turning and tossing the covers off, baring her face to the soft incandescence. Without her blanket to shield her, the young panda grimaced, groaned, blinked her eyes open to see the blur of her father’s shadow amidst the glare. She sat straight up with a quiet squish, a yawn, a stretch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Dad…? What’re you doin’?” asked the girl, quite groggy, and quite soggy. Though her vision quickly cleared, her questions only doubled when next she spied her vulpine friend lain atop the changing station, visibly alarmed to see her awake. She tilted her head. “Did Lynn spring a leak or some’n?”

Her father chuckled. “Noooot exactly. Just a little something special we’re doing for him. Why don’t you come watch, sunshine?”

Curiosity tugged the eight-year-old out of bed and into a totter across the room, hobbled by her puffy nightwear, her gently-soaked underpants wedging her legs apart. At her back, her long, fluffy ring-tail dragged over the floor. By her side, her favorite stuffed cuddle-mate, a black and white Siberian husky, followed firmly in hand. Although, fascinated as she was, still she grumbled the whole way there while digging her knuckles through her eyes.

“Firs’ you wan’ me to sleep, then you wan’ me to get up… Make up your mind, daddy… Nnehhh…”

After her brief sojourn, she was over to the facilities, hiking to the top of the stairs, front row to the evening show. Lynn, understandably, was less than enthused for the audience, and more than a smidge embarrassed to meet her there face-to-face under the circumstances. Their eyes momentarily crossed, hers only half-awake, before her wandering gaze fell upon his waistline, staring at the closed pink package nearby—her diaper, she immediately recognized.

Suddenly, her lids lifted fully open, staring, blinking. Whether it was the peculiar sight or her sleep-fogged head, something simply was not adding up.

“…Ummm?”

“We’re putting Lynn in your poopy pants for the night,” said dad, matter-of-fact.

Such bluntness was a devastating strike on the poor fox, whose hands shot up, swiftly sheltering his reddening face. By contrast, it only provoked more intrigue from the girl.

“Wwwwwhy…?”

“Well, he wanted to try them out. They looked so nice, he just couldn’t help himself, could you, sweetie?”

The boy was nothing shy of bashful—a dismayed groan, his ears falling back, his sights peeping through the cracks in his fingers. In return, Serina’s father simply chuckled.

“So we’re running a little experiment. And if it works out, we might be keeping him in your old diapers from now on whenever he’s visiting, as a treat. Just gotta run it past mom in the morning and see what she thinks.”

Perhaps uncertain what to believe, the drowsy tyke turned to her partner on the tabletop. Lynn could only smear his hands down his face, could only turn his head and stare at her sideways.

“It’s a long story…” he murmured, awkward.

His timidity, however, was what made everything click. Rather abruptly, the girl’s countenance twisted from confusion to amusement. “Huh. Sounds silly to me,” snickered the cub. Shortly after, she tipped forward, arms crossed on the tables edge, and propped her head in their cradle. “I don’t get it, but I totally wanna watch this.”

“That’s my girl,” lauded her father.

Shock, shame, a smidge of betrayal—they sank Lynn’s expression, sent him hunching up, shutting his eyes, hiding from his best friend’s childish interest in his humiliation. He should have expected as much; his embarrassment was ever a game to her, and one for which she thrilled herself in running up the score. Worse than taking jabs at him, she was treating him like a spectacle. And that devilish, entertained smirk plastered all across her face—the killing blow.

Graced with his daughter’s approval, then—for whatever it was worth—the panda parent began in earnest. His fingers peeled at that bulbous bundle’s tapes, mindful not to rip the sides as he methodically removed each. Now stripped, he unfolded the thick, sludgy parcel, exposed its contents to the open air. Instantly, its odor, strong and pungent, smacked Lynn’s nostrils and brought his gaze across his chest. There, he caught the clearest glimpse of his prize yet—its sodden interior drenched in yellow, its leg-cuffs caked in brown, its contours well and truly full from front to back. Evidently, its contents had slushed and shifted from being balled and handled, in no small part aided by his failed heist. The sheer volume of it caught him off-guard—scalded his cheeks with deepest scarlet.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen your face turn that color before!” giggled Serina.

Spotting the fox peeking, dad laughed. “You know, you don’t have to watch if you’re nervous. You’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted with it when it’s on you.”

His head promptly swung away, opting instead to seek solace with his girlfriend, whose ruthless grin could have stretched for miles. The adult, meanwhile, unfurled the present, lain out and stretched along the table, positioned readily beside the fox’s hips. From its insides, his fingers plucked out the many spent baby wipes from his daughter’s earlier change, piece by piece, slow and careful, until each had been tossed into the nearby trash can. Then, he popped the tapes to the fox’s padded pants, brought the front free of his lotioned loins, now exposed to the air. A single hand grasped his ankles together and hoisted them high, raising his bottom from the mat while a free paw slid the clean slip out from underneath. And in its absence, Lynn felt the touch of cool plastic, a heavy weight scooting along the top of his tail, an elastic cuff wrapping loosely about his tail-base—his old, barely worn diaper replaced by a new, much filthier one. There was no need to wipe him clean, nor for another coating of rash cream; a thorough sprinkling of baby powder over his groan would suffice, and a blizzard’s worth into the diaper’s mucky confines, concealing the swamp in a layer of pristine, wintry white.

Finally, at long last, the moment had come. Both of the adult’s paws grabbed at his ankles, separated them, born aloft over the pile beneath his bare bottom. And knowing what awaited him, the fox’s face was utterly flush with color.

“All right. I’m gonna put you down in it,” warned dad.

His legs made their inevitable descent, heels hitting the mat, breath stolen from his chest in a gasp, a jolt. It was unlike anything he could have imagined—that sensation of his rear sinking deep in mud, a cushion of compost glurshing out from under him; so entirely foreign, going from clean and pristine to grimy and slimy. Warmer than any hug, cozier than any blanket, that foul, soiled feeling swathed his backside, and soon, his loins, when that heavy, sodden diaper-front was pulled up through his spread thighs, damp and humid and grody the way it slickened his fur. His guardian’s paws worked expertly to flatten the wings flush around his waist, to pin them in place with those four powerful tapes, each sticking tight like glue through their reuse. In the end, he got what he always wanted: swaddled in secondhand silt—his loftiest wish, fulfilled without fuss.

“Done and dusted!” dad announced, proudly beaming at his handiwork. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I could get used to changing you like that. And I guess I’ll have to!”

Already, Lynn’s face simmered in staring at his waist—meekly mortified, speechlessly satisfied at that pink, puffy Pamper. Along the changing pad his bottom wriggled, testing the feel for himself. Layers of fluffy muck encased him, of a softness words could scarce describe, pairing pleasantly with the half-liter of red panda piddle soaking its middle and back.

“It’s still warm…” the tyke purred.

Gripped by his underarms, firm paws soon sat him straight up into the thick of the swamp with a vulgar smulch, a humbled wince. Between his legs it curdled, bunching against the leak-guards, threatening to breach, and still the gathers held strong against the tide. But he was offered little time to relax. Deftly, his neighbor strapped the one remaining tape over his tail, before lifting him free of the table. As his toes touched down on the carpet, his diaper bounced, sagged, shifted, swayed—fuzzy tush snuggled by tepid mush, clumps peeling loose to settle in the basin. How sickening the sensations, in the most enjoyable way—not unlike the butterflies in his stomach, their euphoric wingbeats filling him with funny feelings. Keen to explore, his eyes wandered to his front, to admire his diaper’s faded designs, the swollen curve, the mottling. Together, as far as they would go, his legs squeezed inward, splashing and squishing with clammy, tingly fluids. It was strange, as a boy in girl’s garb, to feel the wetness pooled betwixt his thighs, up his backend, and nary a drop wicking to front. And of course, in his nostrils, a rich bouquet of baby powder and mess—still fresh, still foul, and none of it his own making. Every part of him, from his face to his very senses, was on fire.

Suddenly, a full palm came upon his bum, made him jump as it shoved into the mire, cradling, hefting, patting the full breadth of that soft slurry against him. Back and forth, on and off, it rubbed that rustling bulk, squeezed it to the sound of splutting clay, coaxed it through the space in his wedged legs. He could not stifle his moaning, nor could he help but lift his rump, legs shivering, tail twitching, to let his friend’s father work the mulch in all the right ways. Such a reaction earned a chuckle from the adult.

“How’s it feel, kit?” he asked him. “Everything you hoped it’d be?”

The arctic fox lowered his head, glanced up and around, gave a bashful nod. If not for his admission, his tail would have snitched on him regardless, wagging of its own volition and stirring the mixture in his seat with a mushy slush. Truly, it was every, single, solitary ounce as wonderful as he dared to dream—a forbidden fruit, deliciously savored. And while the father grinned, his daughter giggled.

“And, what, you’re gonna sleep like that?” teased Serina.

“That’s exactly what he’s gonna do,” said dad. He gave the kit a smooch between his flattening ears, another squeeze to his gooey seat. “He doesn’t have a choice anymore. These are the only kind he’s getting. And we’ll make being dirty so normal, it’ll feel weird when he’s not.”

To that remark, he quietly gulped, scrunched his shoulders, held his head low. His paws gripped at his shirt hem, tugging it down as if to conceal his disgrace, while his paws fiddled with it, kneading and squishing his handed-down diaper in the process. His cheeks were suns, glowing a bright and furious red straight past their downy white fluff. His sights stayed fixed to a single spot on the carpet, letting the snickering of his friend wash over him like the rest of his embarrassment. But try as he might to hide it all, his brush wiggling between his legs, paired with the gross slush of his pants, betrayed his joy. Through his stomach fell waves of disgust, and with them, the most shameful, most indescribable excitement. This was his normal now—perpetually unclean, kept stewing in another’s leavings, until it was time for a brand-new, freshly filled, equally yucky diaper. That Serina would be clean at his expense made the contrast in their situations all the more humiliating.

“Now,” resumed dad, “if you’re all comfy-cozy in your ‘new’ britches, let’s get your jammies back on and put that butt back in bed.” He looked to his daughter, flicked his hand at the wrist at her, shooing her off. “You too, missy. March.”

“Yeeees, daaaad,” the girl playfully groaned, rolling her eyes.

While Serina trotted off, plush husky in tow, Lynn lingered patiently for his carer to whisk his pajama pants down from the bench. The adult held his bottoms open at floor level, waited for the tyke to step through the leg-holes, lifted them up and around his now rather puffy rump. The fit was quite different than what he remembered—nothing left to the imagination the way it hugged his saggy seat; the way his distended diaper flattened the fabric’s creases; the way its frilled waistband stuck out above the rim; the way its bawdy contents nestled closer to his bum. But then, there was very little about it he disliked, such that he found himself curiously admiring his rear-end’s perfect shape from over his shoulder.

“Dad, d’you mind if Lynn sleeps with me?” the panda cub suddenly suggested. Already, she was burrowing into bed, stuffy tucked to her side.

Her father cocked his brow, laughed in his throat. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I wanna snuggle with him so he’s not lonely,” she answered, sweetly and—perhaps most surprising of all—sincerely. Cool and casual, she threw her head back onto her pillow, neck in her paws, a big grin spreading her muzzle. “And ‘sides, I don’t mind him bein’ all smelly. I’m used to my own smell anyway.”

Though he whined and fussed, indignant at her backhanded compliment, there was no denying the fox’s meek approval—showing through as the tiniest, smushing wag of his tail through his hobbled legs. She would never be so genuine were she scheming some tease at his expense. Recognizing his charge’s agreement, the adult shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, you heard the little lady,” said the man, patting his little boy’s bottom off to join his daughter. “Best not keep her waiting!”

His pants sloshed, his feet staggered, timidly toddling toward his friend’s cot while she scooted over, making room. As he clambered in beside her, he felt his seat sway with every shift of his hips, awkward and unwieldy, bulky and bloated. The odor of his inherited accident seemed only to worsen once he had made himself at home under the duvet—a fact that slapped him as squarely as it slapped his nose. He feared it worse for his bedmate, however, and shot her a remorseful grimace.

“S-Sorry… I know it stinks…” the kit apologized.

Yet his partner only sniggered in response. “Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad,” she claimed. “I should know; I’m the one who made it!”

Once the pair had settled in, her father was soon at their bedside pulling the comforter up to their shoulders, tucking them in for the last time that evening. He leaned down, gave his daughter’s forehead a loving peck. “Goodnight, darling.”

“G’night, dad…”

Next, of course, a kiss for Lynn—a member of their family as much as any could be. “And you too, good boy.”

A simpering smile rose to the child’s muzzle. Under the covers, his tail swished and squished—a quiet cacophony of muffled, mushy rustles. The adult could not contain his laugh, rubbing noses together with him.

“We’ll get you a ‘fresher’ pair in the morning,” he promised.

Lynn’s blush was immediate, snout streaked in vivid pink. But whatever embarrassment he felt, it all melted away the moment that weight huddled against him—his friend cuddling up to his backside. Her arms embraced, wrapping around to his chest, protectively clinging. Beneath the blanket, her own bushy tail curled along his leg. Though he could not see her self-pleased smirk, he could certainly sense it. Not that he would object to her intimacy, of course, as he wriggled deep into the hovel with her, spooning in tranquil joy.

Seeing the children happy and tucked away, and with his parenting well and truly finished for the day, the father panda departed. On his way out, he clicked off the lamp, plunged the room into nightlit darkness, before he threw one last glance at his little rascals in bed. Then, silent as a shadow, he glided through the door, leaving it cracked the slightest bit for the tiniest whisper to breeze through.

“Sweet dreams, you two…”

That was it, then. A pall of evening serenity descended all through the house. For the second time that night, Lynn lay at rest. There, in a bed not his own, wearing a diaper not his own, he was snug and secure in both, bathed in the tender, radiating heat of his friend’s presence—her breath on the scruff of his nape, her filth on the seat of his rear. The scents, the sounds, the sensations—once thought gross to him, in that disgustingly desirous way, now they seemed pleasant in their familiarity. Those wafting odors were to be his new perfume. Those slushing rustles, his constant companion. With every wiggle of his bottom, each shift of his legs, that cushy muck gushed around him, rubbed against him, making him purr with timid, contented delight. This was not a dream; this was real.

And knowing he would do it all again tomorrow? He had never slept so soundly.", "pools_count": 0, "title": "Shameful Obsessions", "deleted": "f", "public": "t", "mimetype": "application/msword", "pagecount": "1", "rating_id": "1", "rating_name": "Mature", "ratings": [ { "content_tag_id": "2", "name": "Nudity", "description": "Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)", "rating_id": "1" } ], "submission_type_id": "12", "type_name": "Writing - Document", "guest_block": "t", "friends_only": "f", "comments_count": "5", "views": "1138" }