This is a yiff-free diaperfur short. This is another stand-alone short. You may, however, recognize some familiar names and places. It may contain secret clues about secret events accessible to those who’ve set their decoder rings right. But for the moment: every diaperboy has special people in his life. This is a salute to some of the most specialest to us here at Baby Blue.
“Excuse me, but where is—” the cross-dressing sissy fox started to ask at the counter, but the train station coffee shop attendant anticipated her question.
“The women’s room is right there,” he said helpfully, pointing.
Serry, in reality a cross-dressing boy, but one who had long since begun to think of herself as a vixen, bit her lip and started to say something. It being a local train station, she had hoped for a unisex or handicapped restroom situation, one of those set-ups that was just a locked door with a single toilet.
At Serafina’s primary workplaces, let’s say that gender (and restroom) situations were unusual; it wasn’t as though the sissy fox worked in an office building. She had seriously begun to regret her decision not to wear diapers on this day trip, which usually allowed her to skirt this restroom-related awkwardness. But she’d be going to a rehearsal on their way back from this run, and she wouldn’t have time to shower before it.
Besides, she would certainly be in diapers all weekend, given that she and her husband had promised to spend it on the floor of some particular friends’ conjoined apartments, and a fox needed to air out now and again. She wasn’t, like her husband, a 24/7 wearer—cross-dressing 24/7 was enough work for one fur!
Her husband Rian, the five-foot-five wolf in the polo shirt who was standing next to her, sensing her hesitation, shook his head and squeezed her paw encouragingly.
“Thank you,” the short gray wolf said to the attendant with a smile, and tugged his partner to the side, releasing her paw only reluctantly. “Go on,” he said, nudging her.
Serry blushed and nodded shyly. When she made her way back, about ten minutes later, Rian was sitting at a table in the middle of the train station, his coffee set down in front of him and a newspaper open to the real estate section in his paws.
The trip was, naturally, without incident. Women’s rooms did consist of separate stalls, after all, and Serry’s dress was padded slightly, just enough that her cross-dressing wasn’t obvious.
“You have to stop worrying about making people jealous, Serry,” the wolf remarked casually as she sat down, looking up at her with a gentle smile. “You can’t help being beautiful, and it’s not your fault if furs stare. Do you think we should call about,” he handed the paper to her, pointing to one of the ads, “this one? Or wait and see how today goes first? It has less of a yard, but there’s a swimming pool, and it says the asking price is flexible. Just imagine what we could do with a swimming pool.”
The sissy fox felt a flutter in her breast in spite of herself. She set the paper aside and leaned across the table, and pecked her lupine partner quickly on the nose.
“What was that for?” he asked with a laugh.
“You just keep little things interesting,” she answered.
“Princess,” Rian answered, “I just remind furs how young and new they already are themselves. Which reminds me, I need to ask you about another, ummm,” the wolf looked around the train station crowd, uncharacteristically shy for a moment himself, then added, “special dispensation. We might want to talk this one out a bit. I’m still not sure—”
The red fox in the green silk dress tilted her head and nosed at her husband’s paw. “Why so serious and grave?” she chided. “You know I trust you. Besides, you should trust my judgment. Your last ‘special dispensation’ has worked out just fine. I’ve always liked him. You shouldn’t worry so much. I mean, he’s started seeing someone, hasn’t he?”
Rian nodded uncertainly.
“Well,” Serry said, “that’s good.”
“It is poooootentially good,” the wolf said carefully. “I just—well,” he admitted, with a blush, “I can’t help but worry about him. I know so well both ways that he can be. Especially this time of year he’s on my mind, ya know.”
“That’s right,” the sissy fox reflected. “It was right around Father’s Day, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” the wolf answered, warmly, remembering. “I mean—actually on a Father’s Day, is when it started.”
“Heellllllooo?” Rian asked cautiously as he stepped inside the apartment and leaned back against the door, feeling it click shut behind him.
Lights were on in the kitchen, and Rian thought he had heard bustling like that of someone scrambling to hide when he knocked. He was sure Roger wouldn’t be home yet, though; a text had reassured him that the dog who often served as his play daddy was still tied up at his comics and hobby store.
The short gray wolf paused for a moment to fiddle with the cufflinks on his costume butler’s uniform, and to unsnap one of the buttons on the black tailed coat. He was wearing a white tee shirt, bleached until it only showed the pale shadows of many grass stains, rather than a pressed shirt, underneath the coat, but a good costume, Rian felt, left something to the imagination. Besides, the tails of a dress shirt would have gotten caught in his diapers too easily.
His ears pricked as he heard no answer from the suspiciously silent kitchen. He took a slow step forward, then another, looking around him cautiously. “Rooooooog?” he called, hoping the dog hadn’t somehow made it home early enough to ruin his surprise. Meanwhile, his mind was scanning other possibilities.
Members of the Secret Circle, the upper echelon of Roger’s diaperboy boys’ club, had keys to the dog’s apartment for possible emergencies. The Boy Scouts, Ace and Jax, were off on a weekend-long hiking trip. Which meant the fur in the kitchen was probably—
“Woooooo hooooooooooo!” exclaimed the white rabbit who bolted out of the bathroom in a blur, colliding into Rian from the side and sending him tumbling over an armrest and on to the couch.
The wolf flailed helplessly for a moment and glared up at the rabbit who had pounced him. The bunny was wearing two-piece rocket ship and star-covered pajamas under a white chef’s apron with a picture of a giraffe on it.
“I caught a diaperbutt sucks-his-thumb soaks-his-sheets crinkle-wagging blanket-hogging plushie-hugging bulgy-bottom diaperbutt wuffy,” the rabbit said proudly.
The bunny crouched over his prey and spread his knees out to either side, pinning Rian’s paws to the couch under his legs.
“You said diaperbutt twice,” Rian criticized, “Twitchy.”
The pounced-upon wolf frowned and flopped against the couch; he was being held so as to prevent him from attempting to tickle his way into freedom, or from getting his paws into his bunny buddy’s pants and regaining control of the situation that way.
Rian could see (and hear) the crinkly white plastic protruding above the elastic waist of his friend’s pajama pants, and the bunny’s cottonball tail was wiggling.
“I’m sorry,” Twitch apologized, then burst into a staccato salvo, counting each word as he fired. “I meant to say, diaperbutt diaperbutt diaperbutt diaperbutt wolfy who diapers over his diapered-diaperbutt. With diapers. Does that describe you more accurately,” he asked, adding, with a smirk, “diaperbutt?”
“Bunny’s manic,” the wolf answered, trying to suppress a grin and to wriggle his paws free. “Let me guess—you got your report card.”
Twitch nodded eagerly, one of his long floppy ears falling over his eyes and the safety goggles spattered with some kind of viscous substance that were settled askew on his forehead. The rabbit reached up and brushed it back into place.
“I told you you had no reason to worry so much, Twitch,” the struggling lupine admonished.
But he spoke at just the same time his friend proudly stated, “It pays to stress yourself through things sometimes, Rian, with one less night of studying I’m sure things would have gone differently.”
Each of the two friends let out a half-sigh, and then decided against responding to what he considered the other’s ridiculousness.
“So,” Rian asked, trying to refocus matters on the business at paw, “what are you doing here, Twitch? I thought you were still out of town. Cuz I am already surprising Roger for Daddy’s Day. See,” he floundered, unable to get his paws free to gesture at his outfit, but settling for a statement of the obvious, “I am going to be his butler for the day. Some of the other boys are delivering an ice cream cake later, and I will wait on them so he doesn’t have to do anything all night except put his feet up and watch Disney movies and play videogames with the boys that we will let him win at while I bring him snacks, and then we’ll all team up to spring-clean his apartment, and I’ll wash his dishes, and scrub his floor, and make his bed and—”
“Ewwwwwww!” Twitchy interrupted, recoiling and sticking his tongue out. “Sissy maid stuff! Sounds girly!”
“It is not!” Rian retorted, sounding hurt, then adding, defensively, “I mean . . . . I didn’t say we were going to do a very good job.”
The pajama-and-apron-clad rabbit, visibly relieved at this important qualification, slumped more of his weight back on to his rear, though still keeping his lupine friend pinned. “All girls are scary except for my mom and sister,” he offered as a half-apologetic explanation for his initial hostility. “Only boys know what boys like, ya know. No special math needed to figure that out.”
“Twitch,” Rian asked, shaking his head, as his friend had been making remarks like this with ever-increasing frequency over the past year, “could you be any more gay?”
The rabbit tilted his head and looked down. His right ear flopped over his eye and he chewed his lip for a moment. “Could I?” he asked pensively, as though Rian had slighted him. “I mean, do you have any suggestions? Cuz you know, I’m very receptive.”
During that moment of introspection, Rian managed to get one of his paws out from under the rabbit’s leg, and he reached at once around his friend’s back, slipping it under the waistband of his friend’s pajamas and below the crinkly layer beneath that, taking a gentle grip of the rabbit’s cottonball tail.
Twitchy giggled involuntarily as a ticklish twinge ran up his spine. “Riri!” he whined. “Leggo!”
The wolf raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me ‘Ri-ri’?” he asked, surprised, as he sounded out the new nickname. “I haven’t seen you this chill since . . . well, in a long time.”
Twitchy blushed. Calculating quickly, he decided his best chance of escape was to assume a slightly more serious tone.
“Yeah, well,” the rabbit said, “it’s time for the Circle to vote on ending my probation. Rog had said I had to meet an honesty challenge as the last condition. I did something for one, and I’m here to tell him how it went.”
Rian squinted up at his suddenly diffident friend. The wolf loosened his grip on the rabbit’s tail.
He paused on the verge of asking a question, then decided he’d be better served by staying quiet and letting the rabbit volunteer whatever amount of information his friend was comfortable with.
“I came out to my parents when I was home last weekend,” Twitchy clarified after an extended silence, clearly a little reluctantly. “I mean about being gay, not about,” he shifted his rear, crinkling, “the fetish stuff. I told them I’d had a serious relationship, and gay friends. That it wasn’t a phase or an exploratory thing.”
Rian considered for a moment what would be the best thing to say. ‘How did they take it?’ Shifted the focus away from his friend to his parents. ‘How did it go?’ But what if it had gone badly? ‘Congratulations.’ Could sound sarcastic.
He decided quickly. Instead of saying anything, he looked up at the rabbit, and nodded.
Then he waited out a long pause until Twitchy spoke again.
“It was rough at first. My mom cried. And Gramps just didn’t understand what was going on. But it ended in a group hug.” The rabbit shifted his weight from one side to the other, which he was too padded to do silently. The rabbit was in a single diaper, but some degree of baby diaper stuffage enhancement was certainly involved. “Annnnyway, when I said that was how I would fill the challenge, Rog held me on his lap over his knee, and I was preetttttty wet, but he wouldn’t let me off to get a change, until I role-played what I was going to say with him. I whined and whined, but he insisted. It sounds really stupid, and I complained it was dumb, but I did it seeing as I didn’t want to get a rash, and,” the rabbit blushed and squirmed, before admitting, “it helped to have done that.”
Then he quickly redirected, his tone lightening as he explained, “So I thought I’d come back a little early to surprise him and tell him how it went. I’m even making him something.”
“Making?” Rian, who had been listening with care, but not responding, to each word the rabbit said, pricked his ears at that one, his eyes widening in sudden alarm as they flickered up to the smear on the rabbit’s goggles. “Oh no! The kitchen! You are not making Rog food on Daddy’s day that he would feel like he has to eat! I forbid it!”
“Excuse me, Rian,” said the rabbit huffily, hopping to his feet as the wolf released his tail, and tugging on his apron. “I’m not that bad a cook.”
Rian glared up at him. “Last time you covered Kyle’s dessert shift,” he accused the bunny, “you made me a sundae out of a scoop of vanilla ice cream, half a jar of peanut butter, and a bag of gummy worms.”
“So?” said the rabbit, who shrugged, not seeing a problem.
Rian narrowed his eyes. “Then you poured lemonade over it,” he added.
“All those things,” Twitchy answered defensively, crossing his arms, “are good.”
“Not together!” said Rian with a despairing sigh. “Ooooohhhhh! Twitchy, for the last time, accept that you have the taste buds of someone who still sticks his toes in his mouth.”
“You are all a bunch of whiners,” the rabbit answered importantly, obviously pleased his friend had steered the discussion back in a less serious direction. “It’s not like you would do any better. You would do a lot worse! You don’t even try! Let me tell you everything I know about food, Rian. Cookies should always be eaten with a glass of milk, or in a bowl with milk poured over them. Bread is a vehicle for the delivery of peanut butter. Nextly—”
The rabbit broke off abruptly. His sensitive ears had pricked at what sounded like a pawstep, and he turned, as rabbits sometimes do, and stared at the door, as though in a state of frozen panic, trying to get a better listen and see if he heard anything else.
Rian rolled his eyes. “Is that everything you know about food?” he asked impatiently.
“Huh?” answered the rabbit, who had lost his train of thought. “I thought I heard someone coming. Then the pawsteps stopped. And relax, Riri,” the bunny offered in a conciliatory tone, “I’m making oatmeal. You can help me serve it as part of your butler service. Rog won’t want to lounge around and watch everyone working, but together I bet we can get him down until his diaper’s full enough to pose mobility problems, and then we can put ourselves in joint charge of changes. I had better go check on it.”
In truth, the bunny felt a surge of gratitude to Rian, and he wasn’t sure how to express it.
Twitchy knew the wolf’s own relationship to his family was more strained than his, and it would have been easy for him to feel jealous, or to lecture the rabbit on how lucky he should feel, or to offer some other response to Twitchy’s story that turned the focus back on to himself, or otherwise diminished the importance of what the rabbit had done. Twitch had expected at least a little friction.
Blushing slightly, the bunny kissed two of his own fingers, and then pressed them against the wolf’s cold, wet nose.
The wolf relaxed and stared after his friend as Twitchy turned around and started for the kitchen. Their friendship hadn’t always been an easy one. A year ago this time, Rian wouldn’t have wanted to be in the same room with the bunny, and was kicking himself for initiating Twitchy into Baby Blue.
But a lot had changed since then, and the wolf couldn’t help but feel something like pride at those moments, like today, when the rabbit seemed to grow up a little bit before his eyes.
Twitchy hadn’t gotten more than a couple hops before he felt his right forepaw gripped loosely from behind in one of Rian’s, pulling him back.
The bunny looked over his shoulder and tilted his head, curious. The wolf’s fingers stroked the fuzzy top of his forepaw gently. “Whaaaaat?” Twitchy asked, seeing Rian holding him loosely by the paw, standing on his tiptoes, smiling at him.
Rian leaned toward the rabbit, so that Twitchy felt the wolf’s warm breath on his muzzle, and pulled him back towards his own shorter frame. “Who’s your big brother, Twitchy?” the wolf asked.
The rabbit’s ears fell flat. Had he done something wrong? “You are?” he offered, hesitantly, looking down at the shorter wolf in the silly costume.
“So why did you kiss me,” the wolf insisted, “like I’m a girl? That’s how a boy like you kisses his sister, Twitchy.”
Twitchy blinked. “Ummmm . . .” the bunny stammered.
“Is it because,” Rian continued, shaking his head in a gently scolding fashion, “you’re a baby? You poor little bunny. I have been a bad big brother to you. I haven’t taught you all the things that you need to know.”
“Ummmm . . .” Twitchy stammered again, his foot beginning to tap rhythmically against the shiny wood floor. He struggled to assume a more adult tone. “Rir—Rian—you and Serry, you’re going to get— I mean—”
“Hush, baby,” Rian said, exhaling up with a warmth that covered Twitchy’s face and made his whiskers tremble. “What I do with my baby brothers has been talked about. You let me take care of that and trust that I know what the rules are. You just be honest with Auntie Serry about it whenever you come visit and always answer any question she asks you. She would be just as upset as me if she thought no one had ever taught you,” the wolf hoisted himself up, and pressed his muzzle against Twitchy’s as he whispered, “how to kiss another boy.”
The bunny felt his knees go limp and he dropped, almost unconsciously, practically to the height of his five foot five friend, letting Rian’s muzzle force itself on his and force him down as their lips pressed against each other.
He felt Rian’s arms wrap around him, the wolf’s paws firmly gripping the extra-thick stuffed diaper around his tail through his pajama bottom, squeezing it against his tail and his fur and his skin with an insistent force, so that the bunny couldn’t help but feel the infantile thickness of the padding as intensely as he felt the kiss.
Twitchy fidgeted, unsure of himself, as Rian’s tongue touched his lips, and he felt the wolf’s muzzle withdraw just a bit.
“Close your eyes,” Rian whispered, and he did, and the two diaperboys continued smooching for another few minutes.
Then, Rian shook his head. “This is an important lesson, Twitchy,” he whispered. “It’s worth worrying over. Someday, I have a feeling it’s going to help you to know how to do this. So I want to make sure that you learn how to do it right.”
The rabbit whimpered, his muzzle still resting alongside Rian’s. Despite their size difference, if the wolf released his paws from the bunny’s diapered bottom right then, Twitchy would have fallen right onto the floor.
“So,” Rian prompted, “do three things for your big brother this first time, okay? Just run through them in your head, easy steps, I know my smart little bunbun can memorize them. Close your eyes; open your muzzle; and,” the wolf urged right before he resumed kissing, “use your tongue.”
Twitchy would never be sure exactly how long he stood there that day, being kissed by, then, increasingly as he tried to imitate Rian’s movements, clumsily at first, kissing back, his best friend.
He knew his diaper was dry when they began kissing. At some point, he realized after the fact that the front of it was warm and soggy, and understood that he had been too absorbed in his instruction to notice wetting himself in the moment.
He had a feeling that they were kissing, though, for a very, very long time, longer than any grown-up furs would have considered reasonable. But they, of course, were diaper-dependent baby boys. So losing track of time was only to be expected.
“Not bad,” Rian said when he finally withdrew his muzzle, “for the first day of school.” He released his grip on the bunny’s bottom and Twitchy actually slumped down onto the floor on his rear with a soft whump, his arms wrapped around Rian’s waist, gazing up at his lupine fraternity brother with a blankly, contentedly affectionate stare. “I bet that took ten years off of you,” the wolf teased, reaching down to tussle the top of Twitchy’s headfur and scritch the back of one of his ears.
The rabbit, regressing without inhibition, giggled. “Don’ be silly, Riri!” he retorted.
“Why am I being silly?” the wolf asked, assuming the gently condescending tone of address and exaggerated inflection an adult would direct to an actual toddler. “Oh, is it, cuz you don’t have ten years to lose, bunbun?”
Twitchy let his paw wander up to his muzzle as he contemplated that suggestion.
No taste buds, huh! He wasn’t about to forget the taste of another boy’s tongue any time soon. Besides, sucking his thumb and sucking his toes tasted totally different. Even his different toes tasted different. He would get on his back and show Rian that before the night was over.
The wolf also looked a little like he was basking in an afterglow. “Were you,” he asked the bunny absently as he patted his head, “going to check on something?”
“Oh no!!!” Twitchy squealed. He tried to hop up, but he realized he was too entangled with Rian to do it without knocking the wolf over, so his half-start just ended up with him releasing the wolf’s waist and rolling over to land on all fours of his own, then crawling speedily into the kitchen. “The oatmeal!”
Rian was looking peaceful and generally unconcerned, amused to see his friend’s heavily padded pajama pants rear thrust up toward him.
He was pretty soggy, the wolf mused contentedly. He was sure Twitchy had wet, too, but he wondered if the bunny was more or less soggy than him. Investigation of this would be helpful in determining how much Twitch had been really concentrating on kissing, and how much he was still unconsciously holding himself back. Besides, he was curious about Twitchy’s layering situation. The padding he’d pressed against the rabbit’s bottom was way thick, and there were rumors Twitchy had been experimenting with increasingly complicated stuffing combinations.
Rian resolved to check his baby brother momentarily and make a pronouncement that related diaper usage and kissing performance.
Then the wolf’s eyes lighted for the first time on the clock on the opposite wall. At the same time, the sound of his cell phone, vibrating urgently against the coffee table where he had left it, gradually penetrated to him. Was it really possible he had been making out with Twitch for that long?
“Oh no!” he cried in his turn, and bustled ahead of his friend into the kitchen. Too panicked to pay close attention to where he was going, he tripped over one of the bunny’s trailing footpaws.
The two tumbled onto the floor, spread out on top of each other, looking up at the stove, to see two pots of oatmeal boiling over, spilling their contents out over its ceramic surface, oozing onto the counter on either side, and down the oven door in front.
The diaperboys hugged each other tight for a moment as they heard the door swing open and shut and heavy pawsteps approaching, knowing it was too late, even if they made it onto their feet, to effect a cover-up and clean-up operation.
In less than a minute a tired-looking black Labrador was surveying the scene, scratching his head as he looked from his stove down to the boys. In a different crowd, his belted blue jeans and Nintendo tee shirt might have appeared like juvenile clothes, but they were grown-up indeed next to the accoutrements of his visitors.
“I did it!” Rian wailed as Twitchy blushed and quivered furiously.
The Labrador, who had heard this cry from Rian all too often, wasn’t fooled.
“You’re both getting spanked every hour on the hour until tonight,” Roger, the canine owner of the apartment, pronounced matter-of-factly as he reached over the boys sprawled on the floor and flicked two switches to turn the burners of his stove off. “Twitchy for making a mess, and Rian,” he said, nudging the wolf gently with his foot, “for lying. Now, you can tell me what all this is about while we clean the kitchen up.”
“Umm ummm ummm . . . . Surprise?” Twitchy declared faintly, smiling up at the dog as he used his forepaws to boost himself on to his knees.
“Happy Daddy’s Day?” Rian, who flopped over on to his back, added.
Roger stifled a laugh and clapped a paw to his forehead.
He looked down at the wolf, laying on his back and wearing a tailed waistcoat with shiny cufflinks over a tee-shirt and a visibly puffy pair of black corduroy slacks, and at the bunny, wearing an apron over a set of two-piece pajamas the pants of which had been tugged down about four inches as he crawled to leave his diaper on prominent display.
To a dog’s nose it was, needless to say, obvious that neither boy had been wearing his diapers purely for show. They were, in every respect that mattered at the moment, his babies.
“You two, you two, tell me,” the Labrador said with a sigh as he gestured at the mess on his stove and counter, though he was, in reality, struggling to maintain an appearance of anger. “What did I ever do, to deserve this?”
The End! (?)
And . . . happy Father’s Day!
From all of us at Baby Blue to all the diaperboys and daddies out there: Whether or not your national fathers’ day holiday happens to fall today, we hope you manage to get in a hug or two!