The Mayor and Sinclair the beaver star in… “Hearts and Minds” (2.3k words) (I checked, and I couldn’t find the name of the mayor in Beastars, let me know if I’m just an idiot. I thought it would be fun to write a story about such a nothing character, lol) — “That’s it, Mr. Mayor. Just take nice, deep breaths as you watch the pretty lights,” Sinclair the beaver said with a whimsical flourish of his hands. The lion audibly scoffed, rolling his eyes before focusing on the colorful swirling screen. One of his staff members had recommended that he go to watch the beaver’s show, and he had found himself regretting that choice well before he had been chosen to come up on stage. He understood the rationale, of course. The lion had done little to win the hearts and minds of his constituents during his first term as mayor, and appearing in public at events like this was theoretically a good way to soften his image. His surgeries had seemed to do the job physically, but while they might have put his constituents at ease, there was still much work to do. But did it really have to be a hypnotist show? “Nothing is going to happen,” the lion responded with disdain, unable to notice the vibrant swirling patterns starting to appear in his eyes as he gazed in the direction of the screen. “Hypnosis isn’t real.” Despite the edge in his voice, the lion’s facial expressions were slowly growing duller and more relaxed. “Is that so?” Sinclair questioned, leaning in close to the lion’s face and brushing his hand against the lion’s close-cropped mane. Everyone in the audience reacted with shock, as touching a lion’s mane without permission was considered rude even among friends, let alone strangers. “Yes, it is,” the lion replied with a bored sigh that morphed into a yawn as the colors dancing in his eyes began to intensify. To the amazement of the audience, and the amusement of the hypnotist beaver, he didn’t react at all to his mane being touched. “This is all a waste of time.” “Really?” Sinclair questioned with a smirk, running his fingers through the lion’s mane and gently tousling it. “If that’s the case, you must be able to feel this!” “What are you talking about?” asked the lion in dull confusion. “You haven’t done anything yet.” With their initial shock having worn off, several members of the crowd started to chuckle. “Are you sure about that?” Sinclair asked in mock surprise, reaching his other hand around and messing up the carefully combed fur. “If this is all you do, I have no idea why anyone comes to your shows. I certainly won’t make that mistake again.” “Thank you, sir,” Sinclair said, a look of barely contained glee spreading across his face. “Now, my lovely audience, I think it’s time to really start the show! What do you think?” The crowd started whooping and hollering their approval as the lion continued to sit expressionless in the chair. “I thought you already started your pathetic little show,” he scoffed, unaware of the audience’s reaction. Sinclair only chuckled, walking around behind the chair where the lion sat, gripping a clump of fur in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other.. “No, Mr. Mayor,” Sinclair cackled, hacking away at the section of mane until it came free. “That was all just the warm up!” The crowd erupted in cheer, waving their arms in the air in excitement as the beaver carried the tuft to the front of the stage. “Do you think he felt that, audience?” he yelled as let the fur drift off into the crowd, with a few audience members snatching it up. “Felt what?” The lion responded dully, his glazed eyes unable to see the otter in the front row who had snatched up the fur and was mocking him by using it as a comically large mustache. “Didn’t think so!” Sinclair laughed once more as his assistant came in from backstage holding an electric razor. The beaver quickly plugged it in and approached the lion once more. “You don’t notice this at all, do you?” “This show is such a waste of time,” said the mayor as the beaver quickly went to work shearing off his entire mane and allowing the fur to drift off into the audience, where the increasingly enthusiastic attendees continued using it to mock their elected executive. Even though the lion had intentionally styled his mane in order to downplay its size, there was still a decent amount of the thick, golden-brown fur to go around. “That’s much better, little kitten!” the beaver chirped enthusiastically, stepping off to the side in order to reveal the end result to the crowd. And indeed, the absence of the mane, as well as the lack of sharp teeth, did serve to give the middle-aged feline a bizarrely youthful appearance. “Now, what’s a cute lil’ guy like you doing in a boring, grown-up suit like this?” Sinclair asked in mock surprise, yielding another loud round of laughter and applause. Without skipping a beat, he unbuttoned the suit jacket and pulled it free, draping it around himself like some sort of cape. “It’s a bit chilly in here,” the mayor said, still unable to process the reality of the situation as his eyes continued to swirl. Every word out of his mouth was treated as a joke by the audience members, who were thoroughly delighted at the way this night was turning out. The beaver continued to remove the lion’s clothing, having to stand him up in order to remove his dress pants, until he was finally standing onstage wearing only a pair of plaid boxer briefs. His artificially slimmed shoulders, shaved head, and a slight but definite gut hardly gave him the look of an apex predator. In combination with his hypnotized state, the mayor was a laughingstock. “Oh, I think someone’s starting to like all this!” Sinclair gasped, pulling the lion’s underwear down to reveal that his feline shaft was slightly erect. “What a naughty kitten! Don’t worry everyone, I know just how to handle this!” He quickly stepped off stage and returned with a small plastic object and a cup of ice. He rubbed an ice cube against the lion’s cock until it shrank against the cold, eliciting another amusing comment from the unaware mayor, and then held up the plastic item for all to see. “Good little kittens need to wear one of these,” the beaver grinned, securing the shiny pink chastity cage in place before clicking the lock shut. The crowd went wild at the sight of the most powerful man in the city being completely emasculated by a beaver who was less than half his height. “How much longer is this show? I’m starting to lose my patience,” said the Mayor, sounding just as bored and disconnected as ever. “Oh, we’re making great time!” said Sinclair, smacking the lion on the ass to elicit another round of laughter. “We’ve reached the audience participation section! Everyone, vote on your phones to decide on a pattern!” As he spoke, he gestured towards a screen mounted over the stage displaying a variety of different designs of diapers. After a moment of silence where the audience processed what was coming, they gleefully took to their phones, sparking a vote that was likely far more competitive than the mayor’s would be once all these videos made their way online. After a few minutes of voting, the audience had selected a light pink diaper covered in hearts and stars, which one of Sinclair’s assistants quickly brought out from backstage. “What a lovely choice!” said Sinclair. “I don’t care if it helps my image, I’m not attending any more events like this” said the lion. In less than no time, the humiliated feline was lying down on his back, legs in the air, patiently waiting as the beaver sprinkled him with baby powder, inserted a suppository into his ass, and taped up the diaper so it was secure and snug. The following minutes were simply a ticking clock. Sinclair had the mayor doing all kinds of silly dances and poses in his diaper, which the audience enjoyed, but no one was fully focused on whatever he was doing in the present, concerned instead with what they assumed would be a spectacular finale. It started not with a bang, but with a whimper. The lion was in the middle of dancing like a ballerina when Sinclair noticed a soft hissing sound, quickly realizing that the mayor was wetting himself. “Oh, what’s this?” he asked the crowd, squeezing the feline’s sodden padding. A hush fell over the room, and it became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Or hear a massive cat mindlessly wetting his diaper. Whichever. “I think our little kitten has to go potty, ladies and gentlemen!” Without further ado, the beaver positioned the lion so that he was on hands and knees, padded rump facing the audience with a microphone right up against the crinkly garment. “Now, Mr. Mayor, would you please explain to us why you’re running for reelection?” For the first time in a while, he said something that made sense to the lion, and still unaware of his situation, he began to oblige the beaver’s request. “Well, I might as well make sure something useful comes out of this show. I’m running again because during hard times, it makes sense to have experienced hands on the wheel. My first priority would be-” just as he was beginning to pitch his campaign, his voice was cut off completely. Not because he stopped talking, but because he let out a loud fart directly into the microphone, strong enough to drown out both his own voice and the chattering of the audience. “What a good little kitty,” Sinclair murmured, more to himself than the audience. He walked around to stand in front of the lion, leaning in to kiss his nose before whispering in his ear. “Now, make a nice big stinky for Daddy, okay?” The mayor’s mind was still continuing on with his stump speech, cutting in and out between farts, but his body was happy to oblige, and it only took a moment until his entire body tensed up, his tail lifted, and he began to noisily fill his padding. Many members of the audience fell out of their seats with laughter as the back of the lion’s diaper started to bulge out until it had nearly swallowed up the microphone, which only made the ass blast accompanying the next few logs of shit louder. It didn’t take long until the pretty patterns adorning the seat of the diaper were becoming hard to make out as the padding turned into a brown, bloated mess. The smell was strong enough that the first few rows of seats were already clearing out by the time that, with one final blast of the ass trumpet, the mayor had finished emptying his bowels into the babyish garment. “And that’s why I believe I deserve your support for a second term in office,” the lion said, finishing his speech with unintentionally hilarious timing. “Well, there you have it, everyone! Thank you so much for coming out to my show, and let’s all give one more round of applause for our lovely volunteer!” Sinclair said with a grin. The resulting cheers from what remained of the audience were as strong as ever, though they quickly trailed off as the scent of the lion’s mess continued to permeate through the auditorium. A few minutes later, the two were alone on the stage. “Well, that was pretty much a waste of time,” said the mayor, the colorful swirling in his eyes now blindingly intense. “I just sit on stage while nothing happens besides you talking to the audience, and then it ends with an improvised speech? How are you still able to book shows? I have half a mind to…” the lion would continue to ramble about nothing for a while, but there was no one paying any attention. Sinclair was too distracted by the stinky matter at hand. He moved the microphone off to the side and led the lion, who was still complaining, backstage into his dressing room where he could thoroughly assess the extent of the lion’s diaper usage. The stars and hearts were gone, and only the slightest hints of pink managed to peek out between the brown and yellow stains that covered the thoroughly packed padding. The beaver glanced back behind him to make sure the dressing room was locked. “Finally,” he moaned, wrapping his arms around the lion’s waist and burying his face in the messy diaper seat. He rarely had the opportunity to get anyone of this size into diapers, and it had been months since he’d gotten to play with a mess this big. He pulled himself away from the diaper for a moment to check his watch. “Fuck,” Sinclair panted, quickly removing his own clothes to reveal his own well-used padding, bloated in the back and obviously tented in the front. He leaned back in to resume his makeout session, farting loudly as he did so. In the outside world, pictures and videos of the mayor’s “performance” were spreading like wildfire, trending on social media and already being discussed by the media. As the mayor of such a large city, the story would doubtlessly become national news. The lion’s campaign team attempted to do damage control, but all of their phone calls went unanswered by the lion. Sinclair knew that he would have to let the lion go eventually, probably early the next morning, and it might be risky to try anything with him in the future. But for the moment, he was being smushed underneath a diaper nearly the size of his own body, and that was all he really cared about.