The late afternoon sun painted the sidewalk in golden-orange hues as a coyote made his way home from work, his messenger bag slung across one shoulder. He was twenty-four, lean and rangy like most of his species, with russet fur that caught the light and sharp blue eyes that took in everything around him. The walk from the bus stop to his apartment was usually uneventful — same route, same scenery, same quiet residential street lined with aging oak trees.
Today was different.
The rumble of heavy machinery reached his ears first, followed by the sharp beep-beep-beep of a vehicle backing up. The coyote rounded the corner and stopped short. Where there had been an empty lot just two days ago, now stood the skeletal frame of what looked like a new apartment complex. Orange construction fencing surrounded the perimeter, and inside, a small crew of workers moved about in hard hats and high-visibility vests.
But it wasn’t the construction that made the coyote’s steps slow.
It was him.
Standing near a white contractor’s trailer was the biggest bear the coyote had ever seen in person. He had to be six and a half feet tall, maybe more, with a build that suggested years of manual labor rather than gym workouts — broad shoulders that strained against a faded blue work shirt, thick arms corded with muscle, and a barrel chest that spoke of raw power. His fur was a rich chocolate brown, darker along his back and lighter on his muzzle and chest. Even from across the street, the coyote could see the way his work jeans hugged massive thighs.
The bear was clearly in charge. He held blueprints in one paw while gesturing with the other, talking to two smaller workers — a timber wolf and a raccoon — who nodded along attentively. His voice carried across the distance, deep and authoritative but not unkind. Professional. Confident.
God, he’s gorgeous, the coyote thought, his heart doing an unexpected flutter. He tried not to stare as he walked past, but his eyes kept drifting back. The bear had to be in his early thirties, salt-and-pepper just starting to pepper his muzzle and the fur on his chest visible where his shirt collar hung open. There was something magnetic about him — that combination of size, strength, and competence that made the coyote’s insides squirm with want.
The coyote had been single for eight months now. His last boyfriend had been… fine. Nice enough. But small, nervous, always worried about what people thought. Nothing like this commanding presence who pointed at the construction framework and made decisions that men followed without question.
I wish I had someone like that, the coyote thought wistfully, tearing his gaze away before he got caught staring like some desperate idiot. Someone solid.
“Roy! You want the electrical guys here tomorrow or Wednesday?” the timber wolf called out.
“Tomorrow,” the bear — Roy — replied, his voice sending a little thrill down the coyote’s spine. “I want that service panel in before the inspection Friday.”
Roy. The coyote smiled to himself, filing the name away like a precious secret as he continued toward the grocery store two blocks away. It was a nice name. Strong. Suited him.
Twenty minutes later, the coyote headed back with two cloth bags of groceries — nothing fancy, just enough for the next few days. Pasta, sauce, some chicken breasts, vegetables, the usual bachelor fare. The construction site was quieter now, most of the crew apparently on break or finishing for the day. The sun hung lower, casting long shadows across the street.
The coyote was almost past when he noticed it—a gap in the solid fence panels, maybe six inches wide where two sections didn’t quite meet properly. Through it, he could see into the construction yard.
And there was Roy.
The bear stood near a stack of lumber, maybe thirty feet from the fence. He was alone now, his hard hat removed and set on a nearby sawhorse. His work shirt was darkened with sweat, clinging to his broad back and those powerful shoulders. He looked around carefully, scanning the construction site from left to right, and the coyote instinctively stepped closer to the fence, pressing his eye to the gap.
Roy’s paws went to his belt.
The coyote’s breath caught as the bear unbuckled and unzipped, then pushed his work jeans down past his hips. But instead of the underwear the coyote expected to see, there was something else entirely — a thick, padded diaper, pristine white with colorful cartoon characters printed across it. Puppies and teddy bears and bright rainbow patterns that looked absurdly juvenile against Roy’s massive, masculine frame.
Holy shit.
The coyote’s cock immediately began to swell in his jeans. He knew he should look away, should keep walking, but his paws gripped the grocery bags tighter as he stayed frozen in place. This enormous, powerful, authoritative bear — the construction manager who commanded respect from his crew — was wearing a diaper. And from the casual way Roy adjusted it, checking the tapes at his hips, this wasn’t some weird accident or medical necessity he was embarrassed about.
Roy looked around one more time, then slowly lowered himself into a squat, his thick thighs spreading as he braced his paws on his knees. His muzzle scrunched in concentration.
Oh fuck, he’s really going to…
The coyote’s heart hammered against his ribs as he watched through that narrow gap in the fence. His grocery bags hung forgotten from one hand while the other drifted unconsciously toward the growing bulge in his jeans. Roy squatted there in the dirt with his work pants pooled around his boots, that thick padded diaper crinkling audibly in the late afternoon quiet. And there he was, grunting softly as his diaper began to bulge and sag.
The coyote could see everything through the fence slats — how Roy’s muzzle scrunched in concentration, how his thick fingers gripped his knees, how that pristine diaper darkened with wet first and then… The back of the diaper swelled visibly as Roy pushed, a soft crackling sound mixing with the bear’s low, satisfied groan.
“Mmmnhh… fuck yeah,” Roy muttered under his breath, and the coyote nearly whimpered.
No one around, just like I planned it, Roy thought, relief washing over him as he finished. Been holding that in all damn day. Worth every penny for these thick ones.
The coyote’s paw worked frantically at his zipper now, fishing out his hardening cock. He shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be watching, but Christ — watching this powerful, masculine bear soiling himself like a toddler was the hottest thing he’d ever witnessed. Roy stood slowly, adjusting the sagging bulk between his thick thighs, and patted the seat of his loaded diaper with one massive paw. Roy pulled his work pants back up carefully, the diaper’s bulk obvious even under the heavy canvas. He turned slightly, and the coyote got a perfect view of his face. The bear smiled to himself, that private little smile of satisfaction, before heading back toward the construction trailer.
The coyote came right there against the fence, biting his lip to keep quiet, his seed spattering the dusty sidewalk. His legs shook as he quickly tucked himself away, looking around frantically to make sure no one had seen. His groceries had fallen — thankfully the eggs hadn’t broken.
As he gathered his bags with trembling paws, his mind raced. The coyote had never been into this before— hadn’t even known it was a thing people did for fun — but something about Roy’s size and masculinity combined with that vulnerable secret made his sheath stir all over again. He needed to know more. He needed to maybe accidentally run into Roy, and learn if this was just a kink or something more. The coyote glanced back at the construction site as he walked toward his building, already planning to take the long way to work tomorrow — right past where Roy would be.
The next morning, the coyote found himself taking the long route to the bus stop — the one that happened to pass directly by the construction site. He told himself it was just curiosity, that he wasn’t some weird stalker, but his heart was already racing before he even rounded the corner. The guilt had kept him up half the night. He’d jerked off twice more thinking about Roy in that diaper, remembering the way the bear’s face had scrunched in concentration, how that padded bulk had swelled and sagged. It felt wrong, watching someone’s private moment like that, getting off to it without their knowledge or consent.
But then again… the way Roy had checked to make sure he was alone, the casual confidence with which he’d pulled down his pants, that satisfied little smile afterward — it all suggested this wasn’t some shameful secret the bear was hiding. Roy enjoyed it. Reveled in it, even. And something about that brazen nature made the coyote suspect that maybe, just maybe, Roy wouldn’t mind the attention. Maybe he might even get off on knowing someone was watching.
The coyote’s sheath stirred at the thought.
The construction site was already active when he arrived, the morning air filled with the whine of power tools and the beeping of reversing trucks. The coyote slowed his pace, scanning the workers behind the fence. There — near the skeletal frame of the building — was Roy, his massive frame unmistakable even from a distance. He stood beside a lean gray fox in a hard hat, the two of them examining something on a tablet.
The coyote stopped at the corner, pretending to check his phone while stealing glances through the fence gaps. Roy looked just as commanding as yesterday, maybe more so in the morning light. His work shirt was already pushed up to his elbows, revealing thick forearms dusted with dark fur. The way he gestured at the tablet, pointing out details to the fox, spoke of easy authority.
The construction noise was overwhelming this close — a circular saw shrieking through lumber, someone hammering steadily, a generator rumbling. The coyote couldn’t hear what Roy and the fox were discussing, but the bear seemed fully engaged, nodding as the fox pointed at something on the screen.
Then Roy shifted his stance.
It was subtle. It was just a slight widening of his legs, his weight settling differently. But the coyote had been watching so intently that he caught it immediately. Roy’s expression didn’t change; he kept his eyes on the tablet, still listening to the fox’s explanation. But his jaw relaxed slightly, and he glanced briefly over the fox’s shoulder, scanning the construction yard.
Is he…?
Roy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, his barrel chest expanding and contracting. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. He continued the conversation, even reaching out to tap something on the tablet screen. But then —
The coyote’s sharp eyes caught it: a dark spot blooming on the front of Roy’s jeans, right at his crotch. It was small at first, maybe the size of a quarter, but it spread steadily outward like watercolor on wet paper. The denim darkened from faded blue to deep navy as the wetness soaked through, creating an obvious bulge that grew more pronounced with each passing second.
Holy shit. He’s wetting himself. Right there. In front of his employee.
The coyote’s paw flew to his muzzle, his eyes wide with excited disbelief. He was close enough — maybe twenty feet away with only the fence between them — that he could see the details clearly. The wet patch expanded across Roy’s crotch and down his inner thighs, the thick padding of the diaper beneath obviously saturated and leaking through his work pants. Roy had to be absolutely flooding that diaper to produce a leak that visible, that fast.
Can’t hold it anymore, Roy thought, relief washing through him as he let go completely. Fuck, that’s better. Fox is too focused on the electrical layout to notice anyway. Even if he does, I’ll just say I spilled my coffee.
But the fox didn’t notice. He was too absorbed in whatever technical issue he was explaining, his finger tracing lines on the tablet screen. Roy nodded along, making appropriate sounds of agreement, all while piss streamed into his already-soaked diaper and leaked out onto his jeans.
The coyote felt his cock swell painfully hard in his pants. His paw dropped from his muzzle to adjust himself, pressing against the bulge to get some relief. Yesterday had been incredible — watching Roy deliberately mess himself in private — but this? This was something else entirely. The bear was so casual about it, so comfortable, just standing there having a work conversation while he pissed himself like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The dark wet patches now covered most of Roy’s crotch and spread down his thighs in twin trails. The thick padding had to be completely saturated, probably sagging heavily in his pants. The coyote could see the bulk even from this distance, could imagine how warm and squishy it must feel for Roy.
What would that feel like? the coyote wondered, his breathing shallow. What would it smell like? That warm, wet padding against your skin, the weight of it, knowing you just… let go whenever you wanted?
He wanted in. Wanted to be part of whatever this was. But how? He couldn’t just walk up to a stranger and say, “Hey, I saw you messing and pissing your diaper, and I think that’s hot.” That was insane. Roy would probably punch him, or call the cops, or —
The fox finally looked up from the tablet, nodding in satisfaction at whatever they’d decided. Roy clapped him on the shoulder — that easy confidence never wavering despite the obvious wet bulge in his jeans and the fox headed off toward the building frame. Roy watched him go, then glanced down at himself, running one thick paw over the front of his soaked jeans. He grinned.
Leaked more than usual this time, Roy thought with satisfaction. Gonna need to change soon. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good.
The bear turned and headed toward the construction trailer, his gait slightly wider to accommodate the sodden bulk between his legs. The coyote watched him go, his mind racing with possibilities, his cock throbbing. He needed to figure out how to talk to Roy, how to make this connection, how to get close to this magnificent, diaper-wearing bear who was clearly loving every minute of his secret public indulgence.
The coyote started walking again, his legs shaky, already planning to come back this evening.
By the time the coyote returned that evening, his nerves were shot. He’d spent the entire workday distracted, unable to focus on anything except the memory of Roy standing there casually pissing himself while discussing electrical layouts. His cheeks burned just thinking about it, and now that he was deliberately walking past the construction site again — expecting to catch Roy in another compromising situation — the embarrassment mixed with arousal in a dizzying cocktail.
The sun hung low on the horizon, painting everything in shades of amber and gold. Most of the construction crew had likely gone home; the site was quieter than this morning, the heavy machinery silent. The coyote rounded the corner, his heart already hammering, his eyes scanning through the fence gaps for any sign of —
“Holy shit.”
Roy stood on the sidewalk, maybe fifteen feet away, leaning casually against the very section of fence where the gap was — where the coyote had been spying yesterday. The bear was massive up close, even more imposing than he’d seemed from a distance. He had to be six-foot-six at least, with shoulders that blocked out half the fence behind him. His work shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, showing the lighter fur of his chest, and his jeans hung low on his hips, held up by a thick leather belt.
He was smoking a cigarette, the ember glowing orange in the dimming light.
The coyote’s steps faltered. Their eyes met — Roy’s deep brown gaze locking onto his — and the bear’s expression shifted into something knowing.A slow smile spread across his muzzle as he took one last drag, then flicked the cigarette onto the street. The bear pushed off the fence and stepped forward, deliberately placing one heavy work boot on the cigarette butt and grinding it out with a slow, purposeful twist. He never broke eye contact.
The coyote’s breath hitched. Oh fuck. Oh fuck, he knows. He knows I was watching.
“Hey there,” Roy rumbled, his voice even deeper in person, resonating in the coyote’s chest. He gestured with one massive paw in a circular motion, indicating the fence perimeter. “Just so you know, we’ve got a few security cameras set up around the construction site. Standard precaution for theft, vandalism, that sort of thing.”
The coyote’s throat went dry. He tried to keep walking, to play it cool, but his paws felt rooted to the sidewalk. “Oh, uh, that’s… that’s good. Smart. Smart precautions.”
Roy’s smile widened, showing teeth. “Yeah. Real smart. Thing is…” He took a step closer, and the coyote could smell him now — sweat and sawdust and cigarette smoke and something else, something warm and masculine that made his head spin. “I’m the only one on-site with access to those cameras. Lucky for you.”
Fuck. The coyote coughed, trying to clear the sudden tightness in his chest. His paws clutched his messenger bag strap like a lifeline. “Oh, it’s not like—”
“Definitely not like you’re spying on me,” Roy interrupted smoothly, his tone conversational but edged with steel. He gestured vaguely toward the fence gap. “And definitely not jerking off in a very public place while you do it.”
The coyote felt his face go nuclear. His ears pinned back against his skull, and he opened his muzzle to protest, to deny, to say anything that would make this less mortifying. “I-I wouldn’t do that,” he stammered, the lie instinctive and pathetic even to his own ears.
But Roy’s expression didn’t soften. If anything, his stare intensified, those dark eyes boring into the coyote’s soul. He closed the distance between them until he was looming over the smaller canine, using every inch of his considerable height and bulk to dominate the space. The coyote had to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact.
Cute little thing, Roy thought, taking in the coyote’s lean frame, the way his russet fur caught the dying sunlight, those sharp blue eyes now wide with panic. Probably mid-twenties. Pretty. And definitely into what I’m doing, even if he doesn’t want to admit it.
“You like big bears in diapers, don’t you?” Roy said, his voice dropping lower, more intimate. It wasn’t really a question — more of a statement of fact that demanded acknowledgment. “Admit it.”
The coyote’s muzzle opened and closed soundlessly. His heart was trying to jackhammer its way out of his chest. This close, he could see the salt-and-pepper gray in Roy’s muzzle, the laugh lines around his eyes, the sheer presence of him. The bear smelled like masculinity and confidence, and despite the humiliation burning through him, the coyote felt his cock stirring in his jeans.
“I…” He swallowed hard, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. “I don’t…”
Roy leaned in closer, his breath hot against the coyote’s ear. “I saw you, pup. Yesterday, when I was taking care of certain business behind the lumber pile. Saw you on the camera feed afterward, rubbing yourself through your jeans like you’d never seen anything hotter in your life.” He pulled back enough to look the coyote in the eye again, and there was no anger there — just amusement and something darker, hungrier. “And this morning, when I leaked through my jeans while talking to my electrician? You were standing right over there, practically drooling.”
Oh god, he knows. He knows everything.
The coyote’s legs felt weak. His paw unconsciously moved to adjust the growing bulge in his pants, and Roy’s eyes tracked the movement with obvious satisfaction.
“So I’ll ask again,” Roy murmured, reaching out to cup the coyote’s chin with one massive paw, tilting his face up. The touch was surprisingly gentle despite the bear’s size. “You like big bears in diapers, don’t you? Watching me fill them up, soak them, wear them under my work clothes, and love every minute of it.”
The coyote whimpered softly, and Roy’s smile turned absolutely wicked.
“Follow me,” Roy said, his deep voice brooking no argument.
The bear turned and headed toward the construction site, moving with surprising grace for someone his size. Jackson followed on shaky legs, his mind reeling from everything that had just happened. Roy led him through a gate in the fence, past silent machinery and stacks of building materials, until they reached a large double-wide trailer parked at the far end of the lot.
Roy unlocked the door and gestured Jackson inside. “Welcome to my temporary abode.”
The first half of the trailer was clearly Roy’s office — a desk buried under blueprints and permits, filing cabinets with drawers half-open, a corkboard covered in sticky notes and work schedules. It looked chaotic to Jackson’s eyes, but Roy moved through the space with ease, clearly knowing exactly where everything was. He had his own system, even if it made no logical sense to anyone else.
“Sorry for the mess,” Roy said, though he didn’t sound particularly sorry. “I know where shit is, that’s what matters.”
He led Jackson past a sturdy black room divider, and suddenly they were in a completely different space. This side was Roy’s living quarters — a queen-sized bed with rumpled sheets, a small desk with a laptop, a kitchenette with a mini-fridge and microwave, and a bathroom door at the far end. But what caught Jackson’s attention immediately was the wall beside the bed: stacks upon stacks of adult diaper bags, piled nearly to the ceiling. Different brands, different styles, some in plain white, others with colorful prints.
Holy shit, he’s really into this.
“My primary residence is a house about two hours away,” Roy explained, watching Jackson’s reaction. “But I stay here during the week, head home on weekends. Easier than the commute, and I can keep an eye on the site.” He gestured at the diaper stacks. “Plus, I can indulge myself without worrying about nosy neighbors.”
“Jesus,” Jackson breathed, still staring at the sheer quantity.
Roy chuckled. “What’s your name, ‘yote?”
“Jackson.”
“Jackson,” Roy repeated, rolling the name around like he was tasting it. “Good name.” He stepped closer, and Jackson could smell him again — sweat and sawdust and that underlying musk that made his cock throb. “Are you gay, Jackson? Because I’m hoping your answer is ‘yes.'”
“Yes,” Jackson replied, his voice coming out colder than he intended, defensive instinct kicking in.
“Good,” Roy said with obvious satisfaction. His paws went to his shirt buttons. “Because I’ve been holding off on hope and a prayer that you were interested in some fun.”
Jackson’s breath caught as Roy began undressing. The bear’s thick fingers worked methodically —buttons, belt, zipper — revealing more and more of that powerful body. The work shirt came off first, exposing a barrel chest covered in dark brown fur that lightened to cream across his pecs and belly. His arms were massive, biceps thick as Jackson’s thighs, dusted with gray. Then the jeans came down, Roy shoving them past his hips and stepping out of them, leaving him in nothing but that soaked diaper.
The smell hit Jackson like a physical force — rich, heavy, unmistakably the scent of bear piss. It was warm and musky and intoxicating, filling the small space until Jackson felt dizzy with it. The diaper sagged heavily between Roy’s legs, the once-white padding now yellowed and translucent with wetness. The cartoon puppies printed on it were distorted from the swelling, and Jackson could see the outline of Roy’s cock and balls pressing against the sodden material.
Jackpot, Jackson thought, his own cock now achingly hard. I hit the fucking jackpot.
But he froze, uncertain. His paws twitched at his sides. Should I undress? Should I just… what do I do?
“I’m curious,” Roy said, his voice dropping into that intimate rumble again. He spread his arms slightly, presenting himself. “So I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”
“Seriously?” Jackson stuttered, his tail wagging despite his nervousness.
“Dead serious.”
Jackson’s paws trembled as he stripped. Shirt first, then his jeans, socks, boxers — everything hitting the floor until he stood completely naked. His red cock jutted up from his sheath, hard and leaking, pointing toward the ceiling. His balls hung heavy and full, and he was suddenly hyperaware of how exposed he was.
But Roy’s eyes raked over him with obvious approval, lingering on his cock before traveling up to meet his gaze. Pretty little thing, Roy thought. Lean and fit. Wonder how loud he’ll get when I really get going.
“Come here,” Roy encouraged, taking a step back and folding his arms over his chest. His stance widened slightly, making the soaked bulk of his diaper more prominent. It hung between his massive thighs, sagging seductively, the tapes at his hips barely holding the weight. “I’m all yours, Jackson. Take your time.”
Jackson’s heart hammered as he approached. He felt like a pup in a candy store, given free reign to grab whatever he wanted but overwhelmed by the options. Roy stood before him like a mountain. And that diaper — God, that fucking diaper — bulging obscenely, within easy reach.
Jackson’s paw extended almost unconsciously, trembling as it hovered inches from the sodden padding. The warmth radiating from it was incredible, and up close the smell was even stronger, making his head swim and his cock leak pre onto Roy’s floor.
“Touch it,” Roy said softly. “I know you want to.”
Jackson’s paw made contact, and he gasped. The diaper was hot — almost feverishly warm from Roy’s body heat and the piss trapped inside. The padding gave under his touch, squishy and yielding, completely saturated. He pressed harder, and warm liquid squelched between his fingers, Roy’s piss seeping through the outer layer.
“Fuck,” Jackson whispered.
Roy’s breathing deepened, his chest rising and falling as he watched Jackson explore. That’s it, pup. Get your fill. “Feels good, doesn’t it? All that warmth and heft. I’ve been in this one for about four hours now. Soaked it completely.”
Jackson used both paws now, running them over the front of the diaper, feeling the heavy sag, the way it bulged and shifted under his touch. He could feel Roy’s cock through the padding — thick and semi-hard, pressed against the inside. His fingers found the tapes at Roy’s hips, traced the elastic leg gatherings that were doing their best to contain the mess.
“You can do more than touch,” Roy rumbled.
Jackson slowly sank to his knees, his paws bracing against Roy’s massive thighs as he brought his snout closer to that sodden bulge. The smell was overwhelming this close — sharp, musky and terminally masculine. He pressed his nose directly against the warm, squishy padding, inhaling deeply, and felt his cock twitch so hard it ached.
Then he felt it — a new wave of warmth spreading against his snout, soaking into the already-saturated padding. Liquid poured into the diaper, the material growing heavier and hotter as Roy emptied more piss directly into it. Jackson could feel it spreading, seeping through the padding, the wetness pressing against his face.
“That’s so fucking hot,” Jackson muttered against the diaper, his voice partially muffled. The realization that Roy was wetting himself right now, indiscriminately, while Jackson worshiped him — it sent his arousal into absolute overdrive. The fresh piss brought a new wave of Roy’s scent, richer and more potent, making Jackson’s head spin.
Fuck, he likes it, Roy thought, his breathing deepening as he watched the coyote nuzzle his soaked diaper. He really fucking likes it.
Jackson’s tongue darted out, licking along the elastic leg gathers where the diaper met Roy’s thick thighs. The padding was saturated here, on the verge of leaking, and Jackson could taste the salt of Roy’s piss mixed with the bear’s natural musk. He worked his way around, finding where the material was most soaked, then pushed his tongue under the elastic, into the leg gather itself. Roy’s fur was matted and wet here, completely drenched in piss. Jackson lapped at it eagerly, groaning at the taste — warm and bitter and completely his. His paws gripped the bear’s thighs harder, claws pricking through thick fur.
“This is nice,” Roy rumbled above him, one massive paw coming down to rest on Jackson’s head between his ears. “Haven’t had my diaper worshiped like this in a while. This is fun!”
More than fun, Roy amended internally, watching Jackson’s tail wag as he licked. This guy is something special.
Jackson was losing himself in it, his mind going blissfully empty of everything except sensation and want. His paws moved on their own, tugging at the elastic waistband of Roy’s diaper. Instead of unfastening the tapes like he probably should have, he just pulled down — hard — yanking the sodden padding down Roy’s thighs. Roy’s thick and heavy cock sprang free, already half-hard from Jackson’s attention. It was impressive — seven inches at least, girthy, dark pink against the lighter fur of his sheath. And the smell — Christ, the musk coming off it was demanding and unapologetic, making Jackson’s mouth water instantly.
Jackson leaned in, his nose almost touching the tip, ready to inhale Roy’s scent and take that beautiful cock into his maw when—
A sudden trickle of piss hit his face, warm and wet, splattering across his muzzle.
Roy’s eyes widened slightly. “Ah, fuck. Forgot to mention — I’m incontinent, man.” His voice held a note of regret. “A bedwetter, for sure. Can’t always control it when I’m hard.”
Jackson pulled back just enough to look up at Roy, piss dripping from his chin. For a moment, Roy tensed, clearly expecting judgment or disgust based on past experience.
“Don’t apologize,” Jackson said firmly, his tongue darting out to lick the piss from his lips. “I don’t mind.”
“You don’t?” Roy’s eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. No way. He’s not disgusted?
“No.” Jackson’s paw wrapped around Roy’s cock, feeling another trickle of piss leak over his fingers. “I’ll even swallow it, if I have to. And if you end up pissing on me?” He grinned up at the bear, his eyes bright with lust. “I’ll probably enjoy it.”
Roy’s cock immediately swelled to full hardness in Jackson’s paw, and a slow, cautionary smile spread across his muzzle. “Well, well, well,” he rumbled, his voice dropping even lower. “That’s fucking hot.”
Jackpot, Roy thought, his paw tightening slightly in Jackson’s headfur. Found myself a keeper.
An undeterred Jackson returned to his target, opening his maw wide. He hummed softly in the back of his throat — a technique he’d learned to counteract his gag reflex — and wrapped his lips around Roy’s cock. The taste hit him immediately: salty pre-cum mixed with the sharp tang of piss, underlaid with that addictive musk. Roy was warm and heavy on his tongue, and Jackson moaned around him.
Roy hardened fully in Jackson’s maw, his cock swelling and lengthening until the tip was poking and prodding at the back of Jackson’s throat. Jackson relaxed, breathing through his nose, taking more and more until his nose was buried in the damp fur at the base of Roy’s shaft.
Jackson was no stranger to sucking cock — he’d had his share of boyfriends and hookups — but this was different. This was the first time he’d blown a man who wore diapers, who’d just pissed himself while Jackson worshiped him, who might piss again at any moment. That musky scent of urine mixed with arousal made Roy’s cock unbearably addicting to consume.
Jackson’s tongue went to work, wrapping around Roy’s shaft and massaging with practiced precision. He hollowed his cheeks, creating suction, then pulled back slowly before sinking down again. His paw came up to fondle Roy’s heavy balls, rolling them gently while his other paw gripped the bear’s thick thigh for balance.
Fuck, he’s good, Roy thought, his head tilting back slightly. I love this feeling.
Roy remained mostly silent above him, but Jackson could feel the bear’s tension, hear the slight hitch in the bear’s breathing. He pulled back until just the tip remained in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive head, lapping up the pre-cum that leaked steadily. Then he took Roy deep again, faster this time, setting a rhythm that had the bear’s claws pricking against his scalp.
Another trickle of piss hit Jackson’s tongue mid-stroke, and instead of pulling off, Jackson moaned and swallowed it down, never breaking rhythm. The bitter taste mixed with pre-cum made him dizzy with arousal, his own cock leaking steadily onto Roy’s floor.
Roy’s breathing grew heavier, his hips beginning to thrust shallowly, pushing deeper into Jackson’s willing throat.
Jackson’s tongue worked magic on Roy’s cock, and the bear had to fight to keep his composure. The wet heat of the coyote’s mouth, the expert suction, the way Jackson swallowed every drop of piss without hesitation — it was almost too much.
But Roy had a confession burning in his chest, one he’d struggled to make to previous partners. Despite his massive size, his commanding presence on the construction site, the way people naturally deferred to his authority — Roy was a bottom. He craved being fucked, being filled, being taken by someone who could see past his intimidating exterior to the vulnerable bear underneath.
Should tell him, Roy thought, his claws pricking Jackson’s scalp as pleasure built in his core. Should say I want him inside me. But fuck, I’m so close —
The familiar churning in his lower stomach interrupted his thoughts — an unmistakable precursor he’d learned to recognize instantly. His gut growled uncomfortably, pressure building, and Roy knew he had maybe seconds before his body surrendered.
“I’m close, but — fuck — I’m going to need to go,” Roy muttered, carefully withdrawing his cock from Jackson’s mouth. It came free with a wet pop, strings of saliva and pre-cum connecting them.
Jackson wiped his muzzle with the back of his paw, eyes glazed with lust. “It’s fine. I can swallow.”
“No, I mean —”
“Oh my.”
Roy quickly pulled his diaper back up over his fully erect cock, struggling to get it in place. The soaked padding felt heavy and warm as he adjusted it, making sure the tapes held. He bent his knees slightly, instinctively preparing for what was coming. Jackson’s eyes widened with understanding, and before Roy could say anything, the coyote was sliding underneath him on the floor, positioning himself so he was looking up at Roy’s diapered ass. Jackson’s paw immediately went to his own cock, stroking slowly, deliberately.
Holy fuck, he wants it, Roy thought, his heart racing. He actually wants to —
Roy squatted down, lowering himself until he was just above Jackson’s face — close enough that he could feel the coyote’s hot breath against the back of his diaper. The pressure in his stomach was overwhelming now, and Roy couldn’t have stopped it if he’d wanted to. A heavy load plopped into the seat of his diaper with an audible thud, the padding immediately swelling outward as the mess spread and contoured around his ass. Another wave hit, then another, filling the back of his diaper until it sagged heavily between his legs. Almost simultaneously, a fresh stream of piss flooded into the front, the already-saturated padding turning an even deeper yellow as it darkened dramatically.
“Fuuuuck,” Roy groaned, shuddering with immediate relief. His whole body trembled, panting heavily as the warmth spread around him. The diaper grew heavier, the mess settling against his skin, warm and soft and utterly filthy.
Jackson could feel the load drop right above his face, could see how the padding bulged and shifted as it filled. The smell hit him immediately — unmistakable, overwhelming. His paw worked faster on his cock, stroking more aggressively as he watched Roy’s diaper swell and sag.
But what came next surprised Jackson even more than the act itself.
Roy’s voice dropped into something softer, more vulnerable. “I pooped my diaper like a really big baby,” he groaned, and there was something almost needy in his tone. “I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop it. I made a big mess.”
The words sent Jackson’s arousal into absolute overdrive. Hearing this massive, powerful bear express his helplessness, his vulnerability — it awakened something feral in the coyote. And Roy had said he could do whatever he wanted.
Jackson slid out from underneath Roy, his cock throbbing as he stood. “Big baby should be sitting in his mess,” he said, his voice taking on a commanding edge. “Sit in your own stink.”
“O-Oh. Okay,” Roy replied, his voice suddenly sheepish.
The bear lowered himself to the floor, and the squish was audible as his full weight settled onto the loaded diaper. The mess pressed firmly against his ass, spreading and flattening, the warmth intensifying as it made contact with his skin. Roy bit his lip hard, his eyes rolling back in his head with pure ecstasy.
Fuck yes, Roy thought, his cock pulsing in the wet front of his diaper. This is exactly what I needed.
Jackson stood over him now, towering despite being the smaller of the two, stroking his cock with manic intensity. Roy looked up at him with growing need, his muzzle parted, tongue lolling slightly.
“Filling your diapers like a baby is so pathetic, it’s fucking hot,” Jackson muttered, his strokes growing faster, more desperate. His balls drew up tight. “You need to be marked.”
Roy watched the coyote’s cock suddenly pulsate wildly, and then —
“Nnngh!“
Rope after rope of thick coyote cum sprayed across Roy’s sweaty chest, painting his dark brown fur with white streaks. Jackson aimed deliberately, covering Roy’s pecs, his belly, marking him thoroughly while the bear sat in his own filth. And Roy—watching Jackson claim him, feeling the mess squish beneath him— came completely hands-free. His cock pulsed in the saturated diaper, adding his own load to the already-soaked padding, wave after wave of pleasure rolling through him as he sat there covered in Jackson’s cum.
Covered. Claimed. Perfect.
Roy’s chest heaved as he came down from the high, Jackson’s seed dripping down his fur, the smell of sex and piss and mess filling the small trailer. The coyote stood over him, cock still dripping, looking down at the massive bear with satisfied possessiveness.
“Can you hold me in bed for a while?” Roy asked, his voice softer than Jackson had heard it all evening. There was something vulnerable in the request, something that made Jackson’s chest tighten with unexpected tenderness.
“Of course,” Jackson replied without hesitation.
They moved to the bed together, Roy’s loaded diaper squishing audibly with every waddling step. Once they were lying down in the darkness — only the dim glow from a streetlight outside filtering through the blinds — they naturally gravitated into each other’s arms. Jackson felt Roy’s dried cum on the bear’s fuzzy chest as he stroked his face, the fur matted and crusty but somehow intimate in its messiness.
They kissed slow, exploratory kisses that tasted of salt and musk and each other. Jackson’s paws moved through Roy’s headfur, finding the softer fur behind his ears, while Roy’s massive paws cradled Jackson’s face with surprising gentleness. Their eyes met in the low light, and Jackson felt something click into place — a connection that went beyond the kinky sex and diapers.
This feels right, Roy thought, his heart doing things he’d forgotten it could do. This feels like home.
Jackson’s nose had grown accustomed to Roy’s smell — the rich musk of bear mixed with piss and mess and sweat. When Roy shifted slightly, clearly considering something, then spoke: “I can change if you’re uncomfortable—”
“No,” Jackson interrupted, his paw moving down to firmly grope the back of Roy’s loaded diaper. The padding was thick and heavy, the mess inside warm and yielding under his touch. He nuzzled the side of Roy’s face. “I like you exactly like this.”
Roy moaned happily, and Jackson felt the bear’s cock twitch against him through the sodden padding.
Then Roy spoke again, his voice carrying weight. “The job’s been stressful,” he admitted, one massive paw stroking Jackson’s face with tender reverence. “And I needed someone like you — someone who could see me, really see me. I was tired of hiding, tired of pretending to be just the tough guy, you know?” His thumb traced Jackson’s cheekbone. “And now that I’m seen by you, I feel like my motivation to see this project through is returning.”
This pup gets me, Roy thought, emotion swelling in his chest. Really fucking gets me.
Roy’s expression shifted into something lighter. “I’m also motivated to take a shower.” He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest as he carefully rolled out of bed and waddled toward the bathroom, his loaded diaper sagging dramatically between his legs.
“See you in a few, baby!” Jackson called after him, the endearment slipping out naturally.
Twenty minutes later, Roy emerged from the bathroom clean and damp, a towel wrapped around his waist. His fur was fluffed from being towel-dried, making him look even bigger and softer. Jackson’s heart did a little flip.
“Let me diaper you,” Jackson offered, sitting up on the bed.
Roy’s face lit up. “Seriously?”
“Absolutely.”
Roy dropped the towel and climbed onto the bed, lying back with his legs slightly spread. Jackson grabbed one of the diaper packages from the stack — a thick overnight one with cartoon stars printed on it — and pulled one out, his paws trembling slightly.
I’ve never done this before, Jackson thought, mild apprehension creeping in. But Roy had given him so much — trust, vulnerability, the freedom to explore desires he hadn’t even known he had. Learning to diaper him felt like the least he could do in return. Jackson unfolded the diaper, marveling at how big it was, then grabbed the baby powder from Roy’s nightstand. He sprinkled it liberally around Roy’s groin, over his chubby, half-erect cock, working the soft powder into the damp fur of his sheath and balls. The smell was clean and sweet, a stark contrast to everything that had come before.
Roy’s eyes were soft, vulnerable, watching Jackson’s every move. This big, burly bear — who commanded construction crews and made tough decisions all day — was lying here completely exposed, trusting Jackson to care for him.
“I trust you,” Roy said quietly, and something in his tone suggested this was a bigger statement than just about the diaper.
He trusts me, Jackson thought, and felt his emotions swell up into his cheeks. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. Not only was it deeply arousing to have this massive, masculine bear let his guard down completely, it was heartwarming — actually, meaningful — to have someone place so much value in him, to offer trust so freely.
Jackson blinked rapidly, trying to keep his emotions in check as he lifted Roy’s legs and slid the diaper underneath his ass. He brought the front up over Roy’s cock, then reached for the bottom tapes. His paws fumbled slightly with the first one, but by the time he got to the top tapes, he’d found his rhythm. The diaper fit snugly around Roy’s waist, the leg gathers secure but not tight.
“There,” Jackson said softly, patting the front of the fresh diaper. “All done.”
Roy immediately grabbed his padded crotch and squeezed, sighing contentedly. “Thank you, daddy,” he murmured, his voice taking on that needy quality again. “Feels so nice.”
Jackson felt his cock stir at the title. “I can make it nicer,” he said playfully, a wicked grin spreading across his muzzle.
A minute later, Roy stood in front of his bed, legs bent slightly, presenting himself. Jackson stood behind him, his cock already hard again in his paw. Without ceremony, he slipped his shaft down the back of Roy’s fresh diaper, feeling the clean padding against his sensitive skin.
Then he let go.
The stream of piss was immediate and strong, flooding into the diaper’s absorbent core. Jackson sighed with relief as he emptied his bladder, feeling the warmth spread through the padding. Roy could feel every second of it — the thick, warm stream covering his backside, rolling down through the padding, soaking into the absorbent material that pressed against his skin.
Using me, Roy thought, his cock hardening rapidly in the front of his diaper. He’s using me like a urinal and it’s fucking hot.
Roy’s breathing grew heavier, his paws gripping the edge of the bed as Jackson continued pissing into his diaper. The padding swelled with the liquid, growing heavier and warmer, and Roy felt valued in a way he’d never experienced before — not just accepted for his kink, but actively used for it, his diaper serving as a service Jackson needed.
“Such a good urinal for daddy,” Jackson murmured, giving Roy’s diapered ass a firm pat as the last drops trickled out.
In the days that followed, Roy found himself approaching his work with a resolve he hadn’t felt in months. The construction site hummed with renewed energy — or maybe that was just him. He supervised his crew with confident precision, met daily goals ahead of schedule, and navigated the inevitable complications that arose with a clear head and decisive action. The project was finally moving the way it should have been all along.
But the best moments came during his breaks.
Roy would slip away to a secluded corner of the site — behind stacked lumber or inside the unused storage container — and pull out his phone. His thick paws would fumble with the camera as he angled it down, capturing his diaper in whatever state it was currently in. Sometimes freshly wet, the padding darkened and sagging. Other times visibly soiled, the bulk obvious even through his work jeans. He’d snap the photo and send it to Jackson with a caption: Daddy’s baby had an accident or Here you go, sir.
Jackson’s responses came quickly, no matter what time of day. Good boy. Keep it on until tonight. Or sometimes: Looks like you need a change. Too bad you’ll have to wait. Roy lived for those messages. His cock would swell in his soggy padding just seeing Jackson’s name pop up on his screen, knowing someone was thinking about him, controlling him, even from miles away during the workday.
The evenings became routine in the best possible way. Jackson would arrive at the trailer after his own shift, usually around six-thirty, and Roy would be waiting — still in his work clothes, still in whatever diaper he’d been wearing since morning, often heavily used and sagging between his legs.
And then there was the night Roy finally got what he’d been craving.
Jackson had him bent over the bed, Roy’s jeans and soggy diaper pulled down just enough to expose his ass. The bear’s massive frame trembled as Jackson worked his cock inside — first the tapered tip, then the growing shaft, stretching Roy open inch by inch.
“Fuuuuck,” Roy groaned into the mattress, his claws tearing at the sheets.
This is it, Roy thought, his mind going blissfully blank. This is what I needed. This is what he deserves.
Then Jackson’s knot began to swell, catching at Roy’s rim, and the coyote didn’t stop — he pushed harder, forcing that thick bulge past the resistance until it popped inside with a wet squelch.
Roy’s entire body seized. The jolt of pain mixed seamlessly with pleasure so intense he saw stars, his cock immediately pulsing and leaking into the front of his diaper. “Daddy — oh god — Daddy—”
“That’s it, baby,” Jackson growled, his hips flush against Roy’s ass, tied together now. “Taking daddy’s knot so well.”
Knotted. I’m knotted. Holy fuck.
That first time opened the floodgates. They’d established what Jackson called a Consensual Non-Consent agreement — CNC for short — after a long conversation where Roy had begged Jackson to just take what he wanted, whenever he wanted it. No asking permission, no negotiating. Just use him.
“Like my diapers,” Roy had explained. “I don’t have a choice but to wear them. I can’t control when I wet or mess. I want to surrender that same control to you.”
Jackson had understood immediately, his eyes darkening with lust. “So if I walk in and you’re bent over working on paperwork, and I want to fuck you right then…”
“Then you fuck me,” Roy confirmed. “Right then. No objections.”
And Jackson had leaned into that premise with enthusiasm.
Now, whenever Jackson visited and found Roy in a well-worn diaper — the padding yellowed and sagging, the smell unmistakable — arousal hit him like a freight train. He’d learned that he didn’t need to wait for an invitation. Roy had given him permanent, standing consent to act on his carnal desires whenever the opportunity presented itself. Like the evening Roy was at his desk, reviewing blueprints with his reading glasses on, focused entirely on electrical layouts. Jackson walked in, took one look at the bear in his stained work clothes and obviously soaked diaper, and felt his cock immediately harden.
Jackson didn’t say a word. He just walked up behind Roy, pressed his growing bulge against the back of the bear’s messy diaper, and growled, “Pants down. Now.”
Roy’s bcock instantly swelling. Yes. God yes. He stood, pushed his jeans down past his hips, and bent over the desk without being told — scattering blueprints and permits — presenting his diapered ass.
Jackson tugged the back of the diaper down just enough to expose Roy’s hole,, and pushed his cock in without preamble. Roy’s moan echoed through the trailer, his paws scrabbling for purchase on the desk as Jackson immediately set a brutal pace.
“Such a good baby,” Jackson panted, one paw reaching around to squeeze the front of Roy’s squishy diaper. “Always ready for daddy. Always full and ready.”
“Hnnngh—yours—I’m yours—” Roy managed between thrusts.
This was what Roy had craved his entire adult life — someone who not only accepted his kinks but actively used them, someone who saw him completely and still wanted him, someone who took control so Roy could finally stop thinking and just feel.
And Jackson? Jackson had discovered he loved having this massive, powerful bear at his mercy, loved that he could walk into the trailer and claim what was his whenever the mood struck, loved the trust Roy placed in him to use that power responsibly even within their CNC dynamic.
Tonight, Jackson’s knot was already swelling, catching at Roy’s rim as he thrust. “Gonna tie you again, baby. Gonna fill you up and make you sit in your mess with my cum leaking out.”
“Please—daddy—please—”
The knot popped inside, and Roy came immediately, flooding the front of his diaper with his own load as Jackson pumped him full.
The construction project continued through summer and into early fall, and with each passing week, Roy felt more settled in his skin than he had in years. The new apartment complex rose from the ground floor by floor, steel and concrete taking shape under his supervision and the dedicated work of his crew. He met every deadline, navigated supply chain issues with calm efficiency, and earned praise from both the developer and the property management company.
When the complex finally reached completion — all units finished, inspections passed, occupancy permits secured — Roy made a decision that surprised even himself. His house two hours away suddenly felt too big, too empty, too far from the life he’d built here. The developer, impressed with Roy’s work and grateful for his dedication, put in a word with the property management company. They offered Roy a unit at significantly reduced rent — a two-bedroom corner apartment on the third floor with excellent natural light and a view of the neighborhood he’d come to love.
Roy accepted immediately.
“Move in with me,” Roy said one evening, lying in bed with Jackson curled against his chest, both of them freshly showered and diapered. His massive paw stroked through Jackson’s headfur. “I mean it. The second bedroom can be your office, or we can make it a guest room, or whatever you want. I would love the company.”
Jackson’s heart had skipped a beat. His own landlord had just increased rent by nearly twenty percent —pricing him out of his current place anyway — but that wasn’t why his chest felt tight with emotion. “You really want that? You sure?”
“I’m sure. I want that,” Roy confirmed, tilting Jackson’s chin up to look him in the eye. “I want to wake up with you. Fall asleep with you. Have you there when I come home from work. I could make it worth your while.”
How could I say no to that?
“Yes,” Jackson breathed. “Absolutely yes.”
Moving day came quickly. Jackson didn’t have much — his furniture mostly stayed with the old apartment, and he brought mainly clothes, books, and personal items. It felt strange, in a way, moving in with someone he wasn’t officially in a romantic relationship with. They’d never had the “what are we?” conversation, never put a label on whatever this was between them. But Jackson savored the role he’d carved out as Roy’s daddy, and Roy clearly needed someone to care for him in ways that went beyond conventional romance. Maybe that was enough. Maybe they were building something that didn’t need traditional definitions.
Besides, the first night in their new apartment, when Roy had waddled out of the bathroom freshly diapered and asked, “Will daddy tuck me in?” with that vulnerable, needy look in his eyes, Jackson knew he was exactly where he belonged.
The dynamics shifted and deepened over the following weeks. Jackson started wearing diapers himself, initially just at home to keep Roy company, but increasingly throughout the day. There was something freeing about it — the warmth, the security, the way it removed the need to constantly search for bathrooms. He understood the appeal now.
Roy developed a new habit that made Jackson’s cock swell every time: after Jackson used and soaked his diaper thoroughly, Roy would ask to wear it as a booster — tucking Jackson’s wet diaper inside his own fresh one. Roy would go to work like that, Jackson’s warmth and wetness pressed against him all day, a constant reminder of his coyote waiting at home.
And Roy cared less and less about hiding.
His jeans hung looser now to accommodate the thick padding underneath, and if someone noticed the bulk or caught a glimpse of colorful prints peeking above his waistband when he bent over? Roy didn’t flinch anymore. He was a construction manager who wore diapers. So fucking what? He did his job well, treated his crew with respect, and met every deadline. That’s what mattered.
I’m done hiding, Roy had told himself one morning, adjusting the thickly padded diaper under his work jeans before heading to a new project. This is who I am. Take it or leave it. He felt more at ease with himself than he ever had.
On a crisp afternoon in late October, Jackson took advantage of a rare day off to walk through the neighborhood. The fall air was perfect — cool but not cold, leaves turning gold and red on the trees lining the streets. He found himself heading toward Roy’s current project, a mixed-use development combining residential units with ground-floor retail space. Jackson spotted Roy immediately, standing near the building’s framework with three of his crew members — the timber wolf he recognized from months ago, a stocky badger, and a tall crane operator he didn’t know. They were deep in discussion about needing additional building materials to cover the rest of the day’s shift.
Roy caught sight of Jackson from the corner of his eye and gave the subtlest nod of acknowledgment. Jackson smiled back, keeping his distance, not wanting to interrupt. He stood on the sidewalk, hands in his jacket pockets, just watching his bear work.
Then Jackson felt the familiar warmth spreading through his diaper — he’d stopped fighting the urge to hold it weeks ago. The padding grew heavy and hot as he wet himself right there on the public sidewalk, feeling the liquid gather at the front and spread backward through the absorbent core. Some of it wicked quickly to the sides, rushing toward the leg gathers, and Jackson felt the telltale dampness seeping through to his jeans. A dark wet spot bloomed on his crotch, spreading down his inner thigh.
Jackson didn’t faze in the slightest. He just kept smiling, kept watching Roy, enjoying the warm soaked padding against his skin.
Roy managed to see the wet spot from fifty feet away — his sharp bear eyes missing nothing — and a slow, satisfied grin spread across his muzzle. That’s my boy. Not giving a single fuck.
The badger noticed Roy’s distraction and followed his gaze, but Jackson had already turned slightly, the wet spot less obvious from that angle. The badger turned back to Roy. “You alright, boss?”
Roy’s grin widened, his chest swelling with warmth and pride and love — yes, love, he could admit that now — as he looked back at his employee.
“Of course,” Roy said, his voice clear and certain. “Just saw my boyfriend pass by.”
The words hung in the air, simple and honest and true. The crew members glanced at each other, then back at Roy, and the timber wolf shrugged with a knowing smile. “Nice. He cute?”
“Beautiful,” Roy replied without hesitation, already turning his attention back to the materials list. “Now, about those two-by-sixes…”
And across the construction yard, Jackson’s smile grew impossibly wider, his heart so full it ached, his wet diaper warm and heavy and perfect as he turned to walk home — to their home — where his boyfriend would return tonight, thick and padded and ready to be held.
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