The alleyway reeked of stale rain and rotting garbage, a narrow vein of shadow slicing through the neon-lit underbelly of the city where the bars bled their patrons out like overripe fruit. Harlan the boar stumbled along its uneven pavement, his broad, barrel-chested frame swaying like a ship caught in a storm. At forty-five, with a belly that strained against the buttons of his flannel shirt and coarse black bristles framing his ruddy snout, he was the picture of middle-aged regret — another Friday night drowned in cheap whiskey at O’Malley’s, chasing away the ghosts of a dead-end warehouse job and a wife who’d left him years ago for a sleeker fox with a steady paycheck. His hooves clacked unevenly against the bricks, vision blurred at the edges, the world tilting in that familiar, nauseating haze.
He needed to piss. Badly. The pressure in his bladder had been building since his last round, a insistent throb that made him grunt under his breath. Spotting a grimy wall beside a overflowing dumpster — its lid propped open like a gaping maw, spilling trash bags that whispered promises of anonymity — Harlan veered toward it. The wall was tagged with faded graffiti, crude drawings of snarling beasts and forgotten lovers, the kind of art that spoke to the desperate hearts of the night. He braced one meaty hand against the cool brick, the other fumbling toward his belt buckle, fingers thick and clumsy from the booze.
“C’mon, you bastard,” he muttered to himself, tusks glinting faintly in the dim spill of light from a distant streetlamp. But his coordination betrayed him; the zipper stuck, his paw slipped, and before he could curse the gods of inebriation, a hot, uncontrollable stream burst free.
It soaked through his pants in an instant, warm and shameful, spreading down his thighs like liquid fire. Harlan froze, eyes widening behind his half-lidded gaze, a low, distressed snort escaping his nostrils.
“Ah, shit… no, no, not again.” The piss pooled at his hooves, darkening the pavement in a steaming puddle that reflected the alley’s murky glow. He patted at the wet patch futilely, heavy and reeking of his own failure. Mildly distraught, he felt a flush creep up his neck — not just from the alcohol, but from the pathetic sting of it all. Another night ruined, another reason to hate the mirror in the morning. His friends at the bar — that rowdy crew of old-timers swapping war stories over pints — would rib him endlessly if they saw, but he couldn’t just slink home like this. No, he’d go back, say his goodbyes with a forced laugh, pretend it was nothing. Suck it up, like always.
Shaking off the droplets from his paws, Harlan turned on his heel, the squelch of his soaked pants echoing softly as he retraced his steps toward the alley’s mouth. The cool night air nipped at his damp legs, sending a shiver up his spine that mixed oddly with the lingering warmth. That’s when he saw him: perched on a weathered wooden crate like some urbane sentinel amid the squalor, a handsome male wolf with fur the color of midnight silk, streaked with subtle silver at the tips that caught the faint light. He was lean and poised, his frame athletic without the bulk of Harlan’s own, dressed in a crisp button-down shirt rolled to the elbows and slim trousers. Wire-rimmed eyeglasses perched on his muzzle, giving him an air of quiet intellect, like a professor who’d wandered too far from the lecture hall. In one paw, he held a half-smoked cigarette, the ember glowing softly as he exhaled a lazy plume of smoke that curled toward the stars.
The wolf’s amber eyes flicked up, locking onto Harlan with an intensity that cut through the boar’s haze like a knife through fog. A slow, appreciative smile spread across his lupine features, revealing just a hint of sharp canines. “Well, now,” he drawled, voice smooth and velvety, laced with a teasing lilt that sent an unexpected spark through Harlan’s gut. “Aren’t you a sight? Stumbling out of the shadows like some lost knight in tarnished armor. And those pants… mmm, soaked right through, aren’t they? Makes you look downright cute, all flustered and marked like that.”
Harlan halted mid-step, his tusked snout twitching in surprise. Cute? Him? The word hung in the air, absurd and electric, stirring something deep in his chest—a flicker of warmth amid the embarrassment. He shifted his weight, hooves scraping the ground, acutely aware of the wet cling against his sheath and balls, the faint outline visible if you looked close enough. “What the—? You got a problem, wolf? Just mindin’ my business,” he grumbled, but his voice lacked its usual bark, softened by the booze and the unexpected flattery. His eyes darted over the wolf’s form, taking in the confident tilt of his head, the way his glasses magnified those piercing eyes, making them seem like twin flames in the dark.
The wolf chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the alley like distant thunder, and stubbed out his cigarette on the crate’s edge before standing with fluid grace. He was taller than Harlan expected, closing the distance in a few unhurried strides until he was close enough that the boar could smell him — clean musk, a hint of cologne like pine and spice, cutting through the alley’s rot.
“Problem? Nah, not at all. If I may be so gold, you’re adorable, especially in those wet pants of yours. Bet it’s been a long night, huh? Chasing away the blues with a few too many?”
Harlan’s ears flattened slightly, with a hint of defensiveness and intrigue warring within him. He wasn’t used to this — strangers in alleys doling out compliments like candy, especially not ones that zeroed in on his mess like it was some kind of asset. His cock twitched faintly in its damp confine, and he noticed his cheeks were burning hot. “Adorable? I’m a boar, not some pup. And yeah, it’s been a shit night. Pissed myself like an idiot. Happy now?” But even as he spoke, his gaze lingered on Elias’s muzzle, the subtle flex of his jaw, imagining what those sharp teeth might feel like grazing skin.
The wolf’s smile widened, undeterred, his tail swishing lazily behind him. He reached out, not touching, but gesturing toward Harlan’s ruined jeans with a casual flick of his paw. “Oh, I’m thrilled. But seriously, why suffer? I’ve got a better idea. Come on, let me take care of you. I live just around the corner — got a place that’s quiet, stocked with everything a big, strong guy like you might need. Ever thought about diapers? Big, thick and absorbent diapers to handle accidents like this. I’d love to get you padded up, nice and snug. Make you feel safe, maybe even cute-r.”
The word “diapers” hit Harlan like a splash of cold water — or was it hot? His mind reeled, flashing to images he’d buried deep: furtive nights alone, scrolling forbidden sites on his cracked phone, the thrill of submission wrapped in something infantilizing and intimate. Out loud, he scoffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest to hide the way his nipples hardened under his shirt.
“Diapers? What the hell kinda joke is that? I’m not some kit needin’ his ass swaddled. Find someone else to play your weird games with, specs.”
But inside, his heart pounded like a war drum, arousal coiling low in his belly. The prospect clawed at him — the wolf’s paws on him, peeling away the wet pants, sliding something soft and crinkly into place, claiming him in that vulnerable space. His sheath swelled traitorously, the tip of his cock peeking free, brushing against the sodden denim. He shifted again, hoping the wolf wouldn’t notice the growing bulge, but secretly praying he would.
The wolf tilted his head, those glasses glinting as he studied Harlan with predatory patience, like a wolf sizing up a reluctant deer. “Joke? Hardly. I can see it in your eyes, boar — you’re curious. A little scared, maybe, but that just makes it sweeter. No pressure, but imagine it: me helping you out of those filthy pants, cleaning you up, then taping you into something that hugs every curve. Thick padding between those powerful thighs, keeping you dry and dependent. You’d look so damn good, all mine to pamper.” He stepped closer, his breath warm against Harlan’s ear, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “And from the way you’re squirming, I bet you’d love every second.”
Harlan helplessly let out a low grunt as he fought the urge to lean in. He could walk away — no, should walk away — but his hooves stayed rooted, the secret fire in his veins urging him to stay, to let this handsome stranger unravel him thread by thread.
“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he muttered, but his voice cracked, as the wolf’s paw finally brushed his arm, light as a promise.
The wolf’s touch was electric, sending jolts straight to Harlan’s core. The wolf didn’t pull back; instead, he traced a finger along the boar’s damp inseam, not quite touching the heat beneath, but close enough to tease. “Oh, I think I do. Come with me, Harlan. Let me show you how good it can feel to let go.” The boar’s resolve crumbled like wet paper, arousal flooding him as vivid fantasies took hold. Harlan nodded, almost imperceptibly, with his cock half-hard and straining.
They moved together through the alley’s shadows, the wolf leading with confident strides, his tail brushing Harlan’s leg in subtle encouragement. The boar’s mind raced, a whirlwind of shame and excitement — the wet pants chafing with every step, and the smell following him like a curse he was now forced to brutally accept. The wolf’s apartment was indeed close, a modest loft above a shuttered restaurant, its door creaking open to reveal warm lamplight and the faint scent of leather and incense. Inside, the space was a haven of ordered chaos: bookshelves groaning under tomes of poetry and anatomy, a wide bed draped in dark sheets, and a discreet drawer in the nightstand that the wolf opened with a knowing grin.
“Strip for me,” the wolf murmured, his glasses fogging slightly as he watched, paws already pulling out a package of thick, white diapers — adult-sized, crinkly and pristine, adorned with subtle paw-print patterns that screamed indulgence. Harlan hesitated, tusks grinding, but the wolf’s gaze held him captive. Slowly, he peeled off his shirt, revealing the soft swell of his belly furred in coarse black, then shucked the soaked jeans, his thick, veined cock springing free, already leaking pre at the tip. The cool air kissed his exposed sheath, making him snort softly, vulnerable under the wolf’s appreciative stare.
“Good boy,” Elias purred, guiding Harlan to the bed with gentle paws. He wiped him clean first — warm cloths scented with lavender, methodical strokes that lingered on the boar’s inner thighs, brushing oh-so-close to his aching length.
“Nngh… easy there,” but he didn’t pull away, hips bucking involuntarily as arousal built like a storm. The wolf chuckled, sprinkling powder over the sensitive skin, the talc’s softness a stark contrast to the roughness of the night.
Then came the diaper: the wolf unfolded it with deliberate care, sliding it under Harlan’s ample rear, the padding cool and yielding against his furred cheeks. He pulled it up snugly, taping it secure — first one side, then the other, the material hugging his cock and balls like a lover’s embrace, thick enough to force his thighs apart slightly. The crinkle was immediate, loud in the quiet room, a sound that made Harlan’s face burn even as his erection throbbed against the absorbent core.
“Look at you,” the wolf whispered, adjusting the waistband with a possessive touch, his own arousal evident in the tenting of his trousers. “So cute, all padded up. My big, soggy boar.”
Harlan moaned low in his throat, “Aah… fuck, this is… really nice,” but his paws clutched at the sheets, body arching as the wolf climbed onto the bed, straddling his padded hips. The wolf leaned down, glasses slipping slightly as he captured Harlan’s muzzle in a deep, hungry kiss — tusks grazing fangs, tongues messily tangling. The wolf ground against him, the friction of fabric over padding sending sparks through them both, his paws roaming the boar’s chest, tweaking nipples until Harlan whined, “Mmmph… more, please…”
What followed was a slow unraveling, the wolf peeling back layers of inhibition with expert paws. He rocked against the diaper’s bulk, teasing Harlan’s confined cock through the padding, the pressure building without release, making the boar buck and snort desperately. “Feel that? All trapped and needy for me,” Elias growled, nipping at Harlan’s ear, his own cock freed now — long and red, knot swelling at the base as he rutted. Harlan’s world narrowed to sensation: the crinkle with every thrust, the wolf’s musk enveloping him, the way the wolf’s glasses pressed cool against his fur as they kissed again, deeper, filthier.
The wolf pulled back from the kiss with a wet smack, his eyes gleaming behind those wire-rimmed lenses, pupils dilated like black moons in the lamplight. He hovered over Harlan, one paw still gripping the boar’s thick thigh, holding it splayed wide to emphasize the diaper’s snug embrace — the way it cupped his heavy balls and strained sheath, trapping every twitch of arousal in its thick, crinkly prison. Harlan panted, tusks parting his lips in a needy whine, his body thrumming with unspent fire, the padding already damp at the front from the steady leak of pre that soaked into the absorbent core like secrets seeping into soil. The wolf’s cock bobbed inches from his belly, that thick red length veined and slick, the knot at its base pulsing with promise, a bead of fluid glistening at the pointed tip like dew on a thorn.
“You know,” Elias murmured, his voice a low, silken rumble that vibrated through Harlan’s chest, “this diaper didn’t come cheap. High-end stuff.” He traced a claw along the diaper’s waistband, dipping just inside to brush the sensitive fur at Harlan’s hip, sending a jolt straight to the boar’s core. The touch was possessive, deliberate, like marking territory on a map only he could read.
Harlan blinked up at him, haze of lust clouding his thoughts, the whiskey still buzzing in his veins like distant bees. Owe him? For the diaper? The boar shifted uncomfortably.
“”W-what’re you talkin’ about? I didn’t… I mean, you offered.” Ain’t no debt here.” His voice came out gruff, uncertain, tusks clicking together as he tried to piece it together. Had he agreed to something in his drunken stupor? The alley seemed like a lifetime ago, that handsome stranger on the crate now transformed into this commanding figure, unraveling him with words as sharp as his gaze.
The wolf’s chuckle was dark, indulgent, like velvet dragged over gravel. He straightened up on his knees, the mattress dipping under his lithe frame, and wrapped a paw around his throbbing cock, stroking it once, twice, with languid pulls that made the knot flare wider. The motion drew Harlan’s eyes downward, mesmerized by the way the wolf’s demanding length flexed, the musky scent of it hitting the boar’s nostrils like a drug — earthy, laced with the faint salt of arousal.
“Oh, there’s a debt, alright. You think I just hand out pampering like candy to every wet-pants boar who stumbles my way? No, my boy — you owe me for making you feel this good, for wrapping up that piss-soaked cock of yours so it doesn’t ruin my sheets.” He leaned forward, guiding his tip closer, until it hovered right at the boar’s muzzle, the heat radiating like a forge’s breath. “Open up. Suck it like you mean it. Pay your dues.”
A sharp snort escaped Harlan as his heart hammered against his ribs. The command hung in the air, stirring that secret coil of arousal tighter in his belly — the one that had flickered to life back in the alley at the mere mention of diapers. His paws clenched the sheets, knuckles whitening under the coarse fur, and for a moment, defiance flickered in his eyes, a middle-aged boar’s pride rearing up like a cornered beast. But it crumbled fast under the wolf’s stare, that piercing gaze stripping him bare, making the diaper feel even thicker, more confining and revealing. Secretly, the order thrilled him, sent a fresh spurt of pre soaking into the padding with a faint, warm bloom. He parted his lips wider, tusks framing his mouth like reluctant gates, and leaned in, tongue flicking out tentatively to lap at the wolf’s tip.
“That’s it,” Elias hissed, threading his fingers into Harlan’s bristly mane, guiding him forward with gentle insistence. The boar’s muzzle enveloped the wolf’s hot and slick head, the salty tang exploding on his tongue like a burst of forbidden fruit. Harlan groaned around it — “Mmmph” —the vibration humming through the wolf’s length as he took more, inch by veiny inch, his cheeks hollowing with suction. The wolf’s cock filled his mouth, stretching his jaws, the knot bumping against his tusks like a teasing barrier he couldn’t quite reach. He bobbed his head clumsily at first, the booze making his movements sloppy, but instinct took over — sucking harder, tongue swirling along the underside, tracing the pulsing vein that throbbed like a living wire.
The wolf threw his head back, an inspired growl ripping from his throat — “Fuuuck, yes, just like that, you greedy fucking pig” —his hips rocking shallowly, fucking into the wet heat of Harlan’s muzzle with controlled thrusts. The wolf’s free paw roamed, tweaking the boar’s nipple through his fur, then sliding down to press against the front of the diaper, rubbing circles over the soaked padding where Harlan’s trapped and aching cock strained. The friction was maddening, the material barrier amplifying every touch, turning pressure into exquisite torment. Harlan whined around the mouthful, hips bucking up involuntarily, chasing the sensation as his own arousal built to a fever pitch, the diaper crinkling obscenely with each desperate grind.
“You’re doing so good, boar,” Elias panted, his voice dropping to a filthy purr as he watched through half-lidded eyes, glasses slipping down his muzzle. “Sucking my dick like it’s the only thing keeping you from falling apart. And look at you — leaking in your diapers already, aren’t you? Bet that padding’s soaked through, hugging your fat cock tight while you service me.” He thrust deeper, the tip nudging the back of Harlan’s throat, making the boar gag softly before pulling back to let him breathe, strings of saliva connecting them like lewd bridges. “Mmm, that’s right. I’m gonna keep you in these from now on — as long as you keep craving this wolf cock, you’ll be my padded little slut. Waddling around with a crinkly ass, begging for more every time you get hard. You’ll piss yourself again, won’t you? And I’ll change you, tape you up fresh, but only if you drop to your knees and worship me first.”
The dirty words washed over Harlan like a tide, each one sinking into his mind like hooks in flesh. He moaned louder as he sucked with renewed fervor, paws coming up to grip the wolf’s thighs, claws digging into the lean muscle there. The imagery flooded him: endless nights in this loft, diapered, accident-prone and dependent, the wolf’s knot savaging his maw while the padding rustled beneath them. It was wonderfully humiliating and intoxicating.
The wolf’s rhythm quickened, hips snapping forward with growing urgency, the knot swelling fuller against Harlan’s lips, demanding entry he couldn’t grant. “Fuck, boar! Your mouth’s so hot, so sloppy… gonna fill you up, make you swallow every drop. Yeah, keep sucking, earn your keep.” His paw pressed harder on the diaper, grinding the heel against Harlan’s trapped erection, the dual assault pushing the boar to the edge. Harlan’s body tensed, a muffled cry building as his climax hit without warning, waves of pleasure crashing through him, cock pulsing uselessly into the padding, hot seed spilling in thick ropes that the diaper absorbed greedily, leaving him trembling and spent.
The sensation tipped the wolf over too. With a savage snarl— “Take it, you diapered piss pig!” — he buried himself deep, knot flaring as his cock erupted, flooding Harlan’s muzzle with pulse after pulse of thick, salty cum. The boar swallowed convulsively, gulping it down around the girth, some dribbling from the corners of his mouth in pearly trails that matted his chin fur. The wolf held him there, riding out the aftershocks, until he finally pulled free with a wet pop, his softening length glistening in the low light.
Harlan collapsed back against the pillows, gasping for air, the diaper now a warm, sticky weight between his thighs. The wolf loomed over him, adjusting his glasses with a satisfied smirk, paw stroking lazily through the boar’s mane. “See? That’s how you pay up. And don’t worry — we’ve got plenty more where that came from. You’re staying padded tonight… and every night you come crawling back for this.” The wolf’s tail swished, eyes promising deeper indulgences, as the loft’s shadows deepened around them.
The grumble in Harlan’s belly caught him off guard, the rumble of hunger morphing into an insistent pressure lower down, a familiar sensation he’d been ignoring for hours. The realization hit him like a splash of cold water — he needed to shit. Badly. The booze and the excitement had masked it, but now, in the afterglow of their passionate encounter, his body demanded release. He looked up at the wolf, still looming over him.
“I’m a diapered boar,” Harlan announced, his voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in his gut. He spread his legs wider, the diaper’s thick bulk shifting between his thighs. With a grunt, he hiked his hips up, bracing for the inevitable, the padding already warm and damp from his earlier release. “Guess I’ve got more than cum to fill this thing,” he muttered, a flush creeping up his neck as he met the wolf’s gaze, challenging and vulnerable all at once.
The wolf’s reaction was immediate and delightful. “Well, well,” the wolf purred, “looks like my big, padded boar has more to give. Go on, then. Let’s see what you’ve got in there.”
Harlan’s blush deepened, but he didn’t look away, the wolf’s encouragement stoking the fire in his belly, turning the embarrassing need into something almost empowering and affirming. He bore down with the pressure still building. The first few grunts were soft, but as his body let go, the crinkly padding absorbed his warm and heavy load. The scent of his sudden mess filled the air like a musky perfume.
The wolf watched, rapt, his paw reaching out to stroke Harlan’s thigh, his touch gentle yet possessive.
“That’s it, boar. Fill it up. Show me how much you can make this diaper work for you.” His filthy words made Harlan’s cock twitch feebly, still sensitive from their earlier encounter. The boar groaned, his body convulsing as he pushed out the last of it, the diaper now a thick, plentiful weight between his thighs, the scent of shit mingling with the musk of their lovemaking.
When Harlan finally relaxed, the wolf leaned in, his nose brushing the boar’s, glasses fogging slightly with their shared breath. “You did it, Harlan. You embraced it. You’re a smelly, diapered boar, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” His paw slipped back, cupping the mess through the padding, squeezing gently, the sensation making Harlan gasp — half from the intimacy, half from the unexpected pleasure of it. “Look at this load, boar. Big and sloppy, just like you. And it’s all mine now, isn’t it?”
Harlan nodded, a soft snort escaping him, his eyes fluttering closed as the wolf continued to knead the diaper, his touch firm yet tender. “Y-yours,” he whispered, the word barely audible, but the wolf’s smile said he heard it loud and clear. The wolf’s paw explored further, slipping into the back of the diaper, fingers tracing the sensitive skin of Harlan’s cheeks, the intimate touch making the boar squirm.
The wolf’s paw lingered, tracing the sensitive skin of Harlan’s cheeks, the boar’s body responding with a shiver, another gush of pre soaking into the front panel. The wolf’s smile was smug, satisfied, as he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his muzzle to taste, a low hum of approval rumbling in his chest. “Mmm, delicious,” he murmured. “It appears you’re ready for the initiation.”
The boar’s eyes fluttered open, with curiosity and apprehension swirling in their depths. “Initiation?” he echoed, his voice hoarse from the pleasure and the growing realization of what he’d agreed to. The wolf’s smile widened, his paw reaching out to stroke Harlan’s cheek, a gesture that was almost tender, if not for the heat burning in his amber gaze.
“Indeed,” the wolf replied, his voice dropping to a husky growl as he sat up, his tail swishing behind him like a promise. He snapped his fingers, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet room, and the door creaked open, revealing several figures standing in the hallway. They stepped inside, the soft click of the door closing behind them, their presence filling the room with an electric charge.
Harlan’s breath caught in his throat as he took them in — muscular, naked males, their bodies glistening under the soft lamplight, cocks already hard and jutting proudly from their hips. Each wore a pup hood, the furred masks obscuring their muzzles, leaving only their eyes visible — wild, hungry, and entirely focused on the boar. They moved with a predatory grace, surrounding the bed, their paws stroking their lengths with casual, almost lazy movements, as if they had all the time in the world.
The boar’s heart pounded in his chest, his instincts screaming at him to run, to fight, to do something —anything — to reclaim some semblance of control. But as he looked into those hooded eyes, he felt a strange calm wash over him, a warmth that started in his belly and spread outward, making his limbs heavy, his thoughts sluggish. He was a diapered boar, after all, and this was the wolf’s domain — his rules, his games. And Harlan had agreed to play.
The wolf gestured to the pup-hooded men, his voice a low, commanding purr. “Go on, boys. Show our new friend here what it means to be kept in diapers.” The men moved in unison, their cocks swaying with each step, the air thick with the scent of musk and arousal. They closed in around Harlan, their paws reaching out, tracing the lines of his body, the thick padding of his diaper, as if mapping out the territory they intended to claim.
The first touch was a shock — one of them, a broad-shouldered creature with a dark, sleek furred hood, gripped Harlan’s cock through the diaper, the plastic already damp and yielding under his rough paw. The boar gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily, a fresh gush of pre soaking into the padding, marking it with his submission. The pup chuckled. Then, they started to pee — streams of hot piss arcing onto Harlan’s body, splashing against his fur, his muzzle, his diaper. It was a warm and pungent shock. The boar squirmed, with feint protests and moans spilling from his lips, his body tensing as he tried to escape the sudden deluge. But the pups were relentless, their aim true, their bladders seemingly endless as they marked him, claimed him, reduced him to a urinal for their pleasure.
The wolf watched, his own cock hard. He reached out, his paw cupping the back of Harlan’s head, guiding him to look up, to meet his gaze. “This is your fate, boar,” he growled, his voice barely audible over the sound of piss hitting flesh, the wet crinkle of the diaper. “Feel every drop. This is what you are now — our little urinal, our padded toy.”
Harlan’s body trembled, his mind reeling, the humiliation of it all clashing with the strange, intoxicating pleasure that coursed through him. He was lost in a haze of sensation, the pups’ piss soaking into his fur, his diaper, the scent of it mingling with his own musk. His cock ached, trapped and leaking, the front panel of his diaper a thick, sodden weight against his belly.
As suddenly as it had begun, the torrent stopped, the pups’ bladders empty, their cocks still hard and glistening. They moved in closer, their muzzles brushing against Harlan’s body, their tongues lapping at the piss that coated him, cleaning him with thorough, intimate strokes. The boar shivered, a low moan escaping him as he was consumed by their attentions, the sensation of their tongues against his skin sending jolts of pleasure straight to his core.
Then, they offered him their cocks — hard and throbbing, the scent of their musk filling his nostrils, making his mouth water. Harlan looked up at the wolf, a silent question in his eyes, the wolf’s smile dark, encouraging. “Go on, boar,” he murmured, his paw still cupping Harlan’s head, guiding him forward. “Show them how much you love serving them.”
With a whimper, Harlan complied, his lips parting to take the first cock — thick and veined, the tip already leaking pre — into his mouth. He sucked eagerly, his cheeks hollowing, his tongue swirling around the sensitive head, tasting the salt of the pup’s arousal mixed with the lingering tang of his own piss. The pup groaned, his hips bucking forward, fucking into Harlan’s muzzle with shallow thrusts, his paw tangling in the boar’s bristly mane, holding him in place.
One by one, the pups took their turn, their cocks sliding in and out of Harlan’s mouth, their groans and snarls filling the air like a symphony of their shared pleasure. The boar took them all, his body relaxing into the rhythm, his diaper crinkling softly with each movement. The wolf watched, with his paw stroking slowly, leisurely.
When the last pup came, his hot seed flooding Harlan’s muzzle, the boar swallowed it all, his body trembling with the effort, his own cock throbbing painfully against the confines of his diaper. The wolf pulled him back, his paw wiping away the stray cum that clung to Harlan’s muzzle, his thumb tracing the boar’s lower lip, a soft, possessive touch. “Good boy,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “You’ve taken your initiation beautifully.”
The pups withdrew, their bodies glistening with sweat and cum, their cocks still hard, their gazes locked onto Harlan, their new plaything. The wolf guided the boar back onto the bed, his paw tracing the wet, crinkly diaper, a soft, satisfied hum escaping him. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said.
Then suddenly, the world around Harlan blurred, the room, the pups, the wolf — all of it melting away like a dream at dawn. The boar gasped, his body convulsing as he came undone, his cock pulsing hot and messy into the diaper, filling it with thick ropes of cum that soaked into the padding with a soft, wet crinkle. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, the pleasure coursing through him like a wildfire, consuming every thought, every fear. But as the last waves of his orgasm subsided, the world around him continued to fade, the edges of his vision blurring, the sounds of the pups’ pleasure, the wolf ‘s voice — all of it dwindling to nothing. The room itself seemed to dissolve, the walls, the bed, the soft glow of the lamp— all of it evaporating like mist under the sun.
Harlan’s eyes fluttered open, the harsh reality of the alleyway crashing down on him like a cold shower. He was still slumped against the wall, the dumpster looming beside him, the reek of rotting garbage filling his nostrils. His pants were wet, the damp patch growing colder as the night air nipped at his skin. He blinked, disoriented, his mind racing to catch up with the abrupt shift.
“W-what the…?” he muttered, his voice hoarse, his heart pounding in his chest. He looked down at his crotch, the wet patch a stark reminder of his dream — no, his illusion. A dream so vivid, so intense, it felt like it had really happened. He could still feel the phantom touch of the wolf’s paw, the rough hands of the pups, the heat of their cocks sliding in and out of his muzzle. His body ached with the memory of it, the diaper still a tangible weight around his hips, even though it was nothing more than a damp patch on his jeans.
He reached into his pocket, his fingers closing around the familiar shape of his smartphone. Pulling it out, he unlocked the screen, the bright glow illuminating his face as he navigated to the web browser. His fingers trembled slightly as he typed in his search, the words “adult diapers” filling the screen like a confession. He scrolled through the results, his eyes widening at the variety, the sizes, the promises of comfort and absorbency. He clicked on a site, his heart pounding as he added items to his cart — thick, absorbent diapers, extra-large, with secure tabs and heavy-duty plastic backing. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the “place order” button, before taking a deep breath and tapping it.
As he waited for the confirmation email, Harlan leaned back against the wall, his eyes fluttering closed, a soft snort escaping him. The dream may have been an illusion, but the desire it awakened in him—that was real. He could feel it, a warm, insistent ember in his belly, a hunger that went beyond the physical. He opened his eyes, looking out at the alleyway, and the city beyond it. And he knew, with a certainty that both terrified and thrilled him, that this was just the beginning. He would explore this newfound part of himself, embrace it, let it consume him if it must. Because in the end, it was his truth — his desire, his secret. And he would see it through.
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