“C’mon man, boss ain’t around and we always look so goddamn good when we do it,” Larry pleaded, wiping his hands on his rag, having finished his last job for the day.

    “I know, man, I wish, I just got a lot to take care of today, promised my lady I would finish sooner rather than later so I can take her out tonight,” Aaron explained, bent over an engine and doing his work as fast as he could.

    Shiiiiit, dude! You know she loves it when we merge! When we get together, we got a face, cock, and bod thats irresistible! Hell, she must love it almost as much as I do.”

    “Yeah, yeah, but tonight is special, you know? It’s Valentine’s Day, I’d feel weird bringing someone else into the mix.”

    “But,” Larry started, positioning himself behind Aaron, “If we do, you’ll have double the muscle to work with to finish the day’s jobs,” he squeezed and caressed Aaron’s arms and shoulders, feeling his muscles tense beneath, “You’ll have double the energy and stamina to finish work, and more,” he slid his hands down the back of Aaron’s tank, feeling his skin twitch beneath, “Plus... you’ll bring home double the dick to the missus for y’all’s special day... Now, how does that sound?” he finished his line of reasoning by sliding his hands between Aaron’s exposed crack and played with his hole a little with his middle finger.

    Aaron reacted by shooting up and gasping, moaning slightly at the stimulation, Goddamn, Larry, you’re damn good at convincing...” he bit his lip and grinded his hips against the front of the car he was working on. Larry just kept grinning, sliding his largest finger in and out of Aaron’s pulsating hole. Nnnggghh, fuck, alright man let’s do it.”

    Larry giggled and rubbed his hands together, excited that his buddy agreed to do this again. He kicked off his boots and started peeling off his clothes completely, while Aaron did the same thing. Larry tugged on his already rock hard cock and waited for Aaron, as he took off is tank top, leaned against the car, and put one leg up on the engine, opening up his ass for Larry to enter. Larry approached slowly from behind, making his cock good and slick with pre, and tenderly slipped his length inside Aaron’s hole, making them both gasp out in a moan. Larry started bucking in and out, slowly but intensely, as he pressed his legs up against Aaron’s legs. Their calves and thighs started fusing together, both impressive and toned from a life of blue collar work. After their legs were one, Larry started bucking his hips deeper, deeper, deeper into Aaron’s ass, feeding his cock in as deep as it would go. Aaron looked down at a presurized sensation in his dick and grinned down to see the familiar sight of his junk plumping up longer and larger, his cock looking like a proper porn star cock and his balls getting heavier and swollen, now filled with double the cum of their usual capacity. Larry looked back and could see that their hips were now completely fused together, and he reached around with his arms to give their new, round, and hardened ass a tight squeeze, loving the feeling of having it back once again.

    Aaron brought his right hand to his junk and began to stroke himself maddeningly. Larry could feel the sensation and leaned into Aaron’s back, bringing both of his arms around to match with Aaron’s, putting his right hand over Aaron’s to help him pump their new cock. Aaron leaned back into them, prompting their chest and torsos to immediately fuse.

    “Here, let me help you,” he coo’ed into Aaron’s ear as he started pumping their meat together. As they both stroked, their hands began to fuse together, along with their full right arms and their left arms, too. As their new left arm began to swell and burst with muscle, they brought it up to flex and admire it, while their new right arm continued to swell and expand as it pumped their new sizable meat. They both felt the sensation of their abs and chest swelling outward and becoming more defined and they brought their new bulging left arm in to squeeze and caress their huge new size.

    Both of their heads sat atop their broad shoulders and Larry turned to face Aaron, “Think we should come home to your missus’s looking like this?”

    “I think we best not,” Aaron giggled drunkenly as he put one of his palms against his cheek and Larry grinned and did the same, and the shared body began to push its two heads together. Both of them groaned a bit as their faces blended and contorted, mixing together to form a new face that blended their best qualities. With what sounded like the pop of a jawbone, the two were now completely merged as one.

    He went back into the car shop just to get a good look at himself in the mirror and groaned in ecstasy when he saw himself once again. He loved it when they merged together, it was the biggest rush. He gripped his still-hard meat and continued pumping, squeezing himself all over and engaging in hedonistic self-pleasure, twisting his nipples, tugging his balls, sniffing his pits, and licking his guns. After several minutes, he unloaded again and again and again and again onto the shop mirror. He ran a finger up the mirror to get a scoop of his spunk and sucked the finger dry, savoring his new but familiar flavor. He felt as though he could go again, but he figured he should save himself for tonight.

    He collected their belongings and threw them into the back of Aaron’s pickup truck. Larry’s compression pants were the only things that fit him now, and he just shrugged and slipped them on. The days work still needed to be finished, after all.

    Sweaty from his self-pleasure, smelly from his musk, greasy from the day’s work, and pumped from the exertion of the merge, he went back to work to finish the day’s job. As he worked, he could smell his musk growing stronger, he could feel his muscles responding in places he didn’t know he had them, and he could sense his balls churning up huge volumes of jizz for the evening ahead. No sense in showering when he got him, Aaron’s wife ought to love him like this. As he wiped sweat off from his face, he knew this would be a long as hell Valentine’s Day night.


    the day that my parents left for a week long holiday, my greatest nightmare became reality. Less than 2 hours after Mom and Dad went off to the airport, my younger brother Kyle stormed into my room, grabbed me by the neck and forced me to follow him downstairs. To my horror, I saw his best buddies Zach, Tyler and Brandon waiting for me on the couch... Kyle forced me to kneel on the carpet before joigning them... and he said:

    Guys, you remember my “brother” ? Or should I say the disgusting faggot who used to pretend to be related to my family? I figured it all out a couple of month ago, when he was stupid enough to leave his laptop unlocked... You wouldn’t believe the revolting sh!t I found there... He had a little talk together and I made it clear that I would ruin his life unless the things change in the way I want...

    As you see, I already taught him the basics, like kneeling in front of me and keeping his mouth shut unless spoken to... But now with the parents away, it’s time to show him that his place is crawling at the feet of real, straight MEN ... learn to obey any of our commands, to be used in any way we might want “it” to be used...  Kyle look me right in the eyes and said: Come closer ! For a start, you will kiss respectfully our feet.... 10 kisses on each foot! NOW !

    The Fuck’s an Otter?


    The things I’d do for the military and my country, I swear.  They wanted me to go undercover at a gay resource center they were infiltrating in New York City, which had fallen into decadence and some suspicious activity.  At first I was skeptical.  How much trouble could a bunch of gays in New York possibly be causing?  Was this really the best use of our taxpayer money as a resource?  All I knew was they needed me undercover, staffing at one, in a few weeks, and that they expected me to have to pass as a gay man.

    Of course they had a epigenetic syringe all prepped ahead of time for me, and before I knew I, I had an arm out for the needle with the medivac unit, who had me in their mobile.  "What’s in that?“ I said, not resistant to them so much as feeling a little trepidation, though I knew it was too late to back out now.  I was a little nervous, II had to admit, and not liking the sound of where this was likely to take me at all.  I didn’t have a problem with homosexuals, but they really weren’t my things.  Was that so wrong?  It was about as far from my own personal interests as possible, I guess I’d say.

    “It’s an injectable,” the doctor in the medivac unit told me, as if that wasn’t obvious enough.  “We want you to pass as convincingly as possible.  The effects are permanent, but we maybe be able to reverse it someday if the technology ever progresses.  No guarantees that it will, but you’ll live a long, full life regardless.”

    “What’s it do?” I said, my stomach sinking.

    “There’s no real way to sugarcoat this, private. You’ll be a bona fide homosexual, maybe even with a lisp,” the doctor said, seeming to almost smirk at me with that remark.  “Although who can say?  Perhaps you’ll just pick up a lisp when you get in the swing of things.  You’ll be as gay as they come, though, and you better learn to get used to it fast.  Those hormones will own you, and it’ll only be a matter of time before they get the best of you and have you acting just like the rest of them.  You never know just how gay you’ll be feeling, so you’d better learn to observe yourself pretty fast so that you don’t do anything to stupid.  I’d suspect it won’t be long before you have your first sexual encounter.  It usually isn’t too long with most guys.  Do you think you’ll be more of a lovemaking in the bedroom sort of gay or a sleazy hookup in the bathroom stalls sort of gay?“ said the doctor, laughing like it was all hilarious to him.  I could feel my fast turning read.  I was angry but I knew I couldn’t be insubordinate.  I couldn’t believe he was so comfortable with turning guys with their entire lives ahead of them into gay men, and now, because I’d agree to this, I’d be one of them.

    Well, I didn’t like it, but I was resigned to it.  This was my mission.  I figured I probably should just roll up my sleeve and get this over with.  I told the doctor, “Hey, ok, it is my mission and I agreed to this.  As long as it doesn’t make me into one of those strange crossdressing ones, or the way some of them are always doing some made up gender that just doesn’t make any sense, as that really isn’t me.

    "Actually, you’ll be an otter.  Enjoy!” he said, finding my vein and starting to depress the syringe.

    “The fuck’s an otter,” I wondered as he emptied the needle into me.

    I hadn’t heard of that before, as I didn’t hang around with gay guys, that was for sure.  I knew I’d be scoping it out on the internet as soon as I got home, so I grabbed my backpack and heading down the street.

    I knew I’d be stationed in New York City for at least the next twenty four months, which was a very long assignment to me.  On the walk back, I already started to feel it taking effect in my veins.  I felt woozy and odd, almost as if I were going to break out in hives or something,  My groin felt kind of itchy, which is what I first really noticed.  The itching spread out onto my legs from there, up my belly and onto my chest until I was scratching like crazy, even at my face.  I had to get out of this shirt, I thought, just feeling irrational, wondering if I was having an unexpected allergic reaction and if I should call them.  I couldn’t believe they’d let me just stumble home like this, but I was a soldier and I was supposed to conduct myself like one, so they obviously thought I’d be able to handle it.  I texted them about my symptoms and got a response back immediately that it was normal, asking me to go back to my residence.

    It sure didn’t feel normal.  When I unlocked the door and stripped off my shirt, I noticed all that itching was being caused by hair that was sprouting up all over me.  Oh fuck, they really were doing this to me?  What the hell was this about?  I looked like some kind of goddamn animal, I thought.  I’d always been a totally smooth guy, at least on my chest.

    I soon was out of all my clothes, even my briefs, as my groin was so itchy, and I figured out fast that all that scratching had been from hair, or as I think of it now, fur, growing in, this big, wild pubic bush I’d grown all over my crotch.  My pits had denser, darker hair in them now too, it seemed, and my legs were just coated with fuzz.

    I still felt like myself at the time, as flushed and itchy and stressed as I was, and I thought hey, at least I’m still basically the same guy and it didn’t seem to alter my mind any.  I didn’t seem to be attracted to guys or feel any gayer just then, which was a relief.  How was this body really supposed to help me pass as gay anyhow, I wondered?  I never even associated gay guys with hairy chests before, personally.

    I went into the bathroom and threw the lights on, looking in the mirror.   I flexed, lean and taut as my body still was, wondering if I was supposed to learn to talk like a gay too.  "So how’s it feel to be ottered-up?“ I asked my reflection.  No response, from my reflection, of course.

    I went back into my living room.  I wondered if they’d soon have me handing out condoms at parties and all that, or handing out therapeutic advice to gay couples, good grief, what an assignment this was!  I could only wonder at that point.  I needed some rest, I thought, and pulled on some loose athletic shorts, as I was sick of looking at my naked, hairy body.  Damn, my legs hairy as hell now, I though as I got on the coach and saw them sticking out of my shorts, wild, dark brown fur making ringlets and fuzzing out everywhere.  Gays who call themselves otters, I thought, how ridiculous.  This was my life now?  This was going to be a tough adjustment for me, I thought, but it felt nice to have total control of my thoughts, at least.  I didn’t feel gay in the least.

    I laid down on the pillow, wondering if should have just declined the assignment or even went AWOL.  I had some regret then, for sure, but mostly I was just considering it.  I knew it was too late, regardless.  But maybe I should have asserted some more authority of my own for my own desires rather than agree to take on such a humiliating form of duty.  I almost wanted to get myself a drink and drown myself in it for now, so I did, pouring myself a stiff Moscow Mule in the kitchen and downing it on the couch.

    I nodded off after a while, right there on the living room couch, as I got tired and didn’t quite want to get up and move into the bedroom.

    My dreams felt tortured and full of sweaty anxiety.  At that point I was apparently even feeling stressed and delusional enough to have imagined a giant otter king or god of sorts to be swimming around and around in circles.  Then I saw something in the distance, blurry, as dreams so often are.  Was it my lieutenant?  No, it was my fellow sergeant who I had my first FITREP with.  The guy’s name was Johnny Ralston.  He’s a good guy for sure.  We fist bumped and I gave him a pat on the back. It was good to see somebody I knew.  Johnny, I wish you could be here, I tried to say, as I wanted a friend to confide in, to help me through this.

    I knew we were finished with drills for the day in this dream.  It was already time to be changing back into our civilian clothes, so we hit the locker room.  I was putting my stuff away for the showers and in my dream, I had the same smooth body I’ve always known.  It almost felt like it was real.  Yeah, this was my old body again, and maybe everything else was the dream, or the nightmare.  I was feeling nothing but relief and hope over that potential.  I didn’t want that assignment.  I didn’t want to be gay.  And I wasn’t gay.  So that was a relief.

    As for Johnny, he had always been kinda hairy compared to me, at least in the center of his chest, and his pits, and some on his legs.  It was weird to be thinking about that again, probably because I was so stressed with this otter thing.  I tried not to look at him as we hit the showers.  I just wanted to make sure, I supposed, that I was still smooth.  I was just comparing compared to another guy.  No big deal, right?  I truly hoped this wasn’t a dream, and that this was the real reality.  I hoped that I could stay on case here, and that Johnny and I could just be buds, and that things could stay like this forever.

    Still, though, I was getting that weird feeling that this was a dream, though, and yet I still fought it.  I was determined to stay in it, even if it was a dream.

    I looked over at Johnny, all as I was soaping up my smooth chest.  He was getting wet with the shower on.  The water really darkened up the little patch on his chest and on his forearms.  Don’t look at that, I told myself.  I was working on soaping up my groin.  My chest was so nice just as it was, smooth and then, I kid you not, in this dream I go ahead and drop the soap by accident.  I almost wanted to laugh.

    Don’t think a gay thought, I told myself in the dream, which was weird.  It was like I was trying to think of a joke.  Gay guys always drop the soap.  I looked over at John again then.  Man, did he always have a furry butt?  I couldn’t remember.  Why was I so worried about whether or not he had a furry butt?

    "Dude, I don’t need to see your furry ass,” I tried to say, to snap myself out of it and regain power over the dream.  But then I felt it, the twinge of excitement, the rush of blood, and I saw my dick was inflating as I looked down.

    No, I told myself, no.  You’ll ruin it all.  I tried to think of something else.  But I was looking at his ass, and all looking at it made me want to do was look at him even more, closer up, and scope out the rest of his body, too.  His ass looked like two perfect round pillows covered with this fuzz that stupidly just foofed out all over them.  I took a step closer in the dream.  The fur on his butt was really the darkest and thickest in the middle of his crack, right by his hole.  If I could just get closer to it, I thought, maybe I could figure out these feelings, and even more exciting, maybe I could see what his ass really looked like, maybe he would let me see it close, and then my body would be close to his, and then maybe… well, maybe… 

    I tried to hold onto the dream.  I was getting really excited over the thought of this guy’s hairy ass and that was so wrong.  But it felt so right and so exciting.  I could feel the excitement building in the dream.  I just wanted to hold onto control of the dream long enough to get close to Johnny for a little bit.  I didn’t know or care what Johnny would think.  It was a dream, I thought, who cares what he thinks.  Just get closer, get closer…

    Then I started to wake up, cumming into my sheets as I was so exciting, waking myself up with a wet dream, to my thrill and disappointment, simultaneously.  I had rarely felt such a rush.  I had never cum to thoughts of a guy before.  And yet I desperately I wanted to stay back in the dream, to see Johnny, to talk to him, to get close to him.  I had to see Johnny’s ass closer, or even tell him how I was feeling, tell him that we had to… to what?  To explore these strange gay feelings together?  It was so weird and confusing, that morning, and there I was, this freshly made otter, hairy and twitching as I ejaculate all over my bed.  I shot load after load through my underwear, shooting right through the thin fabric and getting the sheets very wet right as I soaked right them.

    I looked down at myself, my sweaty hair chest and my soaked briefs, which surrounded now by dark brown pubes that spread out onto my hairy thighs.  These would always be mine now, these ottered-up thighs.  My sexy thighs, I thought then.  What sexy thighs.  I realised, only partly to my horror, and partly to my thrill, that I had turned queer overnight.  Had I did something wrong in the dream?  Could I have fought it?

    if only I hadn’t looked at Johnny, or even hit the showers with him.  Maybe that was the choice I made that I could have resisted.  Why did I do something so stupid, I wondered that morning.  This wouldn’t have happened to me if I hadn’t stupidly lusted after Johnny.  I was confused, panting, and just dripping with sweat, not to mention soaked with cum.

    “You stupid fucking otter,” I panted out loud then, talking to myself, affirming what I was, feeling, irrationally as it might have been, like this was all my own fault.

    I was breathing heavily as my heart raced.  I look down at my sweaty pecs, so covered with the fur of an otter, which I just had to rub my hand over.

    I felt my dick twitch even then, even after it had cum as much I had.  I was obviously a horny fucking otter.  I was obviously liking what my eyes were taking in.  God, that hair, something about it was almost magnetic to me that morning.  It felt, dark, illicit, and just sexy.  You know how it goes, guys.

    “You fucking otter,” I said out loud again.  I was feeling me beard now.  My dick, still semi-hard, was smacking up against my hairy belly as I stripped my soaked briefs off.  I grabbed my dick and it felt good just to have a paw on it.  Even after having cum so much, a wave of erotic sensation passed through me.  I stroked it gently for a few seconds until I thought about what had all just transpired, and forced myself to go shower off.  I had to think this through.

    I told myself I needed to clear my head, so I went to the mirror.  But this time, when I turned on the light switched and gazed at my reflexion, my dick just got harder at the thought of being a furry, sexy otter.  I flexed, loving the dark patch of hair beneath my arm that stuck out in its wiry way.  It was much thicker than before they gave me that shot.

    "You fucking furball,“ I said to my reflection and smiled.  For some reason, talking to myself seemed hot as fuck that morning.  I suppose it was because it felt like I was looking at a whole new me, which I suppose I was.

    I continued, "What the fuck man?  You’re gay now?  You’re ok with being gay?  You like being an otter?” I said as I rubbed my hands across the hair on my chest and felt the hair in my pits.

    “You’re a motherfucking otter, you horny bastard.  Look at this sexy fur,” I said, still running my hand across my chest and down the trail of fur on my belly.  Then I was feeling up beard again.  Even my arms looked good with this fur, I thought.  Even my legs.  I was so excited that I had fur all over me. I showered up after that, even though it honestly was hard to pull myself away from the mirror.  I was mostly hard the whole shower.  I really didn’t even want to put clothes back on, I thought, so I didn’t after that, just wrapping myself up in a bright white towel.  Was this what it was like to be gay?

    My dick was hard enough that I felt like I could jack off again, the tip of it touching up against my belly hair.

    I felt like I’d probably cum just from even hearing a man call me an otter for the first time.  I wanted to text my commanding officer, to ask questions, to tell him how it was going, and yet I felt like I deserved the right to enjoy being a gay, sexy otter without them for a while.

    I hadn’t gotten to see Johnny’s ass up close in my dream, but knowing that it was just a dream, that desire was quickly replaced by the desire to see other men up close, men in real life, gay men, men who actually would love for me to touch them.

    I was gay now.  I was in the right place for that, I thought, reminding myself that that was the whole point.  Fuck, I’m gay, a sexy gay otter, and not only do I not hate it, I’m excited about it.  I couldn’t believe my mind could shift that rapidly, literally overnight, as it were.

    Man, I’m so glad they did this to me, I’m a hot otter now and I can’t wait til I can get in good enough with a guy to feel what gay sex is like.  And what kind of guys was I into yet?  I wasn’t even sure, but so excited to find out.  Maybe another otter, I though, in love with the moniker and the identity, as I already was.  We could have otter sex and oh god, how hot would that be?

    I started stroking my dick again just thinking about that, getting on my sleek, hairy belly and the patch of fur growing wild across my pecs.  I had to beat off.  I didn’t even want to think of my assignment, or the details of why they did this to me.  I realised my sex drive was higher than it had ever been, even aside from the having turned gay thing.  Why did they need me like this?  How was I supposed to infiltrate a pack of horny gay men if I was going to be this horny myself?  Or maybe that was the secret to it all.  Maybe the military thought I’d never be convincing without one of their animal identities and a sex drive that raged as sexily as theirs did.  I wasn’t sure yet at that point.  I just knew I was excited and that I’d be loving this new assignment.

    I was jerking my cock faster and faster, and then I came for the second time that morning, saying out loud as I came and shot up all over my hairy belly, “Yeah, cum you motherfucking otter, milk that dick, fuck yeah, you sexy otter.”  Almost instinctually, unable to resist the allure, I rubbed that cum in all over my belly fur and chest fur, fascinated by the way it stuck in the fur and matted it down.  I couldn’t wait to do this with another sexy otter at my side.

    How I’d be able to ever get any work done for the military with a body this sexy and a sex drive this horny, well, at that point I didn’t know and honestly didn’t care.  If they wanted to pay me to hook up with every sexy otter in New York City, I was definitely more than ok with that.

    And once I started the job, that’s pretty much what started happening.

    All the way, Daddy’s Boy

    The room was small, but quaint, with pale blue walls that reminded Max of the color of the sky in august, misted by hazy clouds. He smiled at that. The color was a little boyish. But, he hadn’t been able to repaint. Tom and Greg had been clear on that. They said that Mr. Jeremy Butler, the landlord, was very strict. Two months extra rent for repainting! And, they argued, Max was the youngest and newest – still a sophomore - so he chose last.

    He had moved in last week, joining Tom and Greg, Seniors who had been there for 3 years. He had lived in Chandice Hall last year, a dorm building from the 1940s that could barely be called a dorm. Honestly, if it wasn’t torn down within the decade, it was in danger of falling down. By spring Max had decided to move off campus, and he heard that Tom and Greg were looking for a new roommate. They lived in an enviable 4 bedroom on a cul-de-sac a couple miles from campus. It was a ranch, all brick, in the post-war style. The house was low and flat, with a large yard and big, towering pines. The guys held barbeques in the summer.

    Max stood up from his twin beg, stretching out his torso into a long sinuous arch, curling his toes and fingers. Just as his fingers hit their apex, his right hand rolled down brushing the top of his short cropped hair, and he rubbed his neck. He hitched his left hand in his boxers, which were loose and low. What a fucking color. He thought for the 100th time. Pale, baby blue. Oh well.

    He looked morosely down at his short twin bed. Not much better. But, a twin was the only think that would fit in here, and it was a modified twin. Coated with annoying, crinkling, plastic! His dresser hadn’t fit, either, so he was using the built in wall drawers which lined one side of the room. Oddly, above these there was a seem in the wall, and a large thick wooden slat flipped down as a desk. A super long desk, Max thought again. Whatever. Greg had told him this was the office and the owner was an architect. He shrugged mentally. Max stripped, pulling on a pair of tight spandex briefs. He cupped his goods. Nice package, he thought and smiled to himself, my body is amaaazing, and he giggled at the self-flattery. He slipped on his jeans, and pulled on a faded green t-shirt. He stopped by the hall bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face on the way to the kitchen. He arrived to find Greg standing on the table. He looked up in consternation.

    “What the hell is going on in here” he grumbled, with the tones of sleep still rounding the edges of his words.

    Greg looked back, turning his muscled torso 90 degrees left, and flicked his head, and caught Max with his eyes. He was wearing only cut off painters shorts he had created from last year kakhis. He tilted his head, his floppy brown hair tilting to the side.

    “Yeah. Light needs changing” he stated matter-of-factly. Greg was a no-nonsense guy. “Hand me that wire, would you Max”

    “Sure” Max responded, picking up the wire and passing it up. “Where’s Tom?”

    “Oh. He went to class about an hour ago. That history class he, um the …” Greg paused as he stuck out his tongue in concentration, wiring a connection while balancing the light. “ahhh. Got it. Um, the one he needs for his major. the one he’s always complaining about…. Italian history, I think”

    “Oh yeah, yeah” Max paused, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. “Hey, Greg, you know that mattress of mine is really annoying. I mean it could wake the dead, man. And, it feels like I’m sleeping on a stiff plastic tarp – you know the camping ones? Its slick, crinkly. Super fucking annoying. I gotta change it.”

    Greg stepped down from the table, having completed his task. On the ground, the height difference between Greg and Max was more obvious. Greg was 6 foot 2 inches, 190 lbs with broad shoulders. Max wasn’t tiny. He wasn’t! Max frowned at his own thought, and looked down at himself as if to re-enforce this. His Dad always said he was the tallest in their family! But at 5 foot 6 inches, and 150 lbs, he was slim and small compared to Greg. It made their 2 year age difference – 22 to 19 – seem much greater than it was. Although, he had heard rumors that Greg was older, he couldn’t confirm it.

    “Max, buddy. You know we can’t get rid of Jeremy’s stuff, and we cant store it.” He glared “That was a condition of moving in. And, that’s part of the reason you’re paying so little”

    Max sighed, and rolled his eyes dramatically. Whatever. He was never going to be able to find such affordable housing near campus. He grabbed his green book bag, slung it over his shoulder, and headed out, calling bye to Greg as he scampered out the door. Greg smiled faintly at the back of the closed door, and headed down to the 4th bedroom in the basement to get some supplies. The beginning of the process was always so much fun, Greg thought.

    Max returned home to see his Dad in Septermber for a long weekend. The bus sucked. It was long, boring, and the guy next to him smelled like a garbage bag! Yuuuuuck. And, the bus had no bathroom, so the last 2 hours of the trip Max was certain he was going to piss himself. He sprinted off that bus and straight to the restroom. He had never been so happy to see a urinal in his life!

    Weekend with Dad was great, but oddly, he didn’t sleep so well. He had started sleeping naked most nights in the last month depending on the temperature. It seemed that his room was really hot; much warmer then the rest of the house. And, somehow the fucking slick, crinkly, plastic sheet on his mattress stayed a little cooler, and so if he had his skin on it, it felt a little better. Max imagined he was quite a site: sleeping buck naked with no sheets on the plastic lined mattress. Oh well. It felt good. Anyways, at Dads the mattess just felt hot and soft. Weirdly, he had trouble sleeping on it.

    On Sunday night, his Dad had noticed his fatigue, and asked. He reported dutifully about his new mattress in his rental room, and how it was odd to sleep on this one.

    “You mean, plastic? Like, slick thick cold plastic encasing the mattress?” His dad asked, enthusiastically, his voice brimming with containing mocking humor.

    Max answered slowly, fearing a trap “Uh, yeah. Just like that. It covered the whole thing. You cant even get it off”

    His Dad threw back his head and laughed uproariously, a loud booming laugh. When the laughed turned to a chuckle he started: “That’s a mattress protector.” When Max looked over blankly he continued “Like, for a kid who wets his bed. Like pisses in it. You know, like pees in the bed…. so the piss doesn’t soak in just runs…”

    Max cut him off “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks. I get it” he simmered. I guess for some reason Jeremy had a bed wetter mattress installed in his rental house. Fuck. And, Max couldnt get rid of it. Max groaned inwardly as his dad continued giggling. It didn’t occur to either of them to wonder if Greg or Tom know the purpose of the mattress.

    The next week proceeded uneventfully. Max resigned himself to sleeping on the mattress, and strangely he enjoyed getting back to it. “I liked it before I knew its purpose, why should I change now?” Max thought.

    It wasn’t until the start of October that things began getting weird. After it all went down, when Max became thoughtful, indeed, when he thought at all, he would think back to that week in particular. A cascade of events can start from such a random, little thing. Or, was it random?

    In late September, Toms Grandma Jean came to visit them for a week. It was torture. Jean was 82, imperious, demanding, and set in her ways. Tom was running around the entire week. Max tried his best not to be at home at all. He would arrive late at night, drinking, studying, whatever. He would enter the house quietly and approach the fridge, quickly stealing food and drink, and taking it back to his room.

    It so happened that on Monday he took a water bottle with an “JS” on top – or so he was later told. Grandma Jean apparently had trouble swallowing pills, and would melt her medications in water, and then drink the bottle.

    It doesn’t matter what was in the bottle; Tom was never able to tell him that, and Jean didn’t really know. Some combination of her meds she said. Max went to sleep that night, and when he woke up next, he was naked, cold. Tom and Greg were both standing over him. He felt the air on his skin. As usual he was on his bed, naked, lying on the plastic coated mattress. He squirmed, and looked up at them. “Stop it!” Tom ordered, looking down, his blond hair spiked.

    “Not again” Greg groaned simultaneously, sticking his hand under Max’s cold butt and tilting him to the side. Max barely reacted, but groaned. His hand feels so warm. Max could tell that Greg’s hand emerged glistening, wet, and a dribble ran down his forearm. He cursed loudly “Fucking piss soaked” and ran out of the room, while muffled the rest of his sentence.

    Max struggled for coherence. His brain wrestled to make sense of the situation.

    He hesitated and then lifted his head and looked down at his thin, tanned body. His lower abs and crotch and upper thighs were wet and shining, and there was a small puddle under his butt. He could smell it clearly. It was the shared smell of a urinal, a boy’s locker room, and a baby’s used diaper; it was stale urine. He groaned. The urine puddled under his butt, held out of the mattress by the plastic protector sheet. He lifted his hand to his chest, and unknowingly, he brought piss with it, and felt the piss run down his chest. Max was groggy. He wanted to cry. He looked up at Tom, who smoothed back his hair in a protective gesture.

    “Let’s get you cleaned up” Tom declared. He began to roll Max to the side and toweled off under his butt. Max fell in and out of sleep, eventually waking up again in the morning. He could barely tell if that nights activities were a dream or not. But, from the smell of his room - still vaguely urine-tinged - he knew it was no dream. Remembering Tom and Greg seeing him piss-soaked and naked, he blushed red as he stood up and pulled on his boxers.

    For several days thereafter, Max was groggy and tired. He was almost too sick to think. Greg threatened to take him to a doctor, but he just shrugged it off. The meds will pass he thought. Jean had long since left.

    To his dismay, he continued to wake up in a wet bed. And, he was not pissing a little, but a lot. He would wake up with he naked butt in puddles of hot urine on the mattress. The air fresheners that Tom had strung up in his room did little to cover the scent. Greg and Tom were real sports about it. On the 5th day, when Max ran out of boxers, Tom lend him a small pair of his. On Friday, he woke up in the early morning hours, feeling again the piss around his crotch. He was laying face down on his mattress, and the piss extended up to his chest. He started sobbing. How had this happened to him? He had never pissed the bed! He sat up, and some of the urine sloshed onto the floor, which made him cry even harder.

    That was how Greg found him, crying, naked, half covered in piss. Greg said nothing, but, walked slowly towards him and enfolded him in a powerful hug apparently disregarding the fact that urine was now covered Greg too.

    “Shhhhh. Don’t cry Max. Shhhhh” he cooed as Max sobbed against his chest, heaving and shaking. “We’ll fix this buddy. Don’t worry” he continued in a low, calm voice, as if soothing a puppy. At some point he began to stroke the back of Max’s head, and Max’s sobs trailed off as he nestled his head against Toms warm neck. That morning, he followed Toms instructions as he was told to shower and get dressed. Maybe Tom could fix this mess, Max thought optimistically. Tom and Greg seemed like such good guys.

    Weeks later, Max would have trouble recalling who first suggested the diapers. In truth, it may have been no one, or anyone. One day, he woke up in his puddle of urine, cold, shivering. And, the next day, in the afternoon, he found, at the foot of his closet, an unopened pack of adult diapers. He torn open the pack, and unfolded one. It was large (larger then he would have expected!) and thick, but soft. He needn’t have opened the pack. His underwear drawer was generously stocked with the folded diapers. The filled most of his underwear drawer, and his boxers had been stuffed in the side and in the next drawer down.

    He mentioned these in passing to Tom and Greg; it was not a conversation really, but more of an acknowledgment; as if to say, I found these. The both nodded, studiously avoiding the issue. Only that night while they were all seated in the living room watching TV, did Greg say, “Remember to get one of those diapers on before bed, Max” Max looked over, but Greg had gone back to watching the show, as if the issue deserved no more comment. And, maybe it didn’t. Max had a problem, and the diapers were a simple solution. He tried to be a man about it.

    That night, he put one on for the first time. He had unfolded one on the bed, fully open it took up a fair portion of the twin bed. He stripped to nothing and laid down butt first on the diaper. It took some doing, but he folded it up in place over his dick and crotch, securing the tapes. He closed his legs slowly, feeling the dense mass of stuffing that covered his butt, balls, and cock keeping his legs apart. It gave some when he brought his legs together, bunching and pushing out in the front. But, the mass was still present. He could almost feel how dry, and thirsty it was.

    He stood up gingerly, feeling the diaper move with him. He moved carefully to his closet, as if the thick bundle around his crotch could break, but really, he moved slowly to lessen the creeping humiliation he felt. It is this way when a toddler first walks? He thought, the thick diaper making the act awkward and halting. Max was surprised but pleased to find a pair of baggy PJ bottoms to pull over the diaper, even if they were covered by baseballs in a too-boyish style. He hadn’t worn these in years.

    When he emerged back out to sit on the couch and watch TV, the only mention of his new attire was a jest: “Max, you take the seat with the warn out cushion – you got extra padding!” Tom cracked, to Greg’s delight. The next morning, no one was surprised to find that Max had wet himself at night. Tom and Greg were up remarkably early, and Max’s door was open when he awoke. His stirring brought Tom and Greg both to the room, to stand over his bed. That would have been more unusual a couple months ago, but given his recent bed wetting, they seemed to be in his room nearly every morning. They stood shoulder to shoulder at the foot of his bed, both shirtless, as they often were; Greg had his fingers lightly on Toms waist.

    Max’s PJ bottoms has slipped low in the night, and his diaper was mostly bare. Before Max could ask why Greg was touching Tom, Greg reached down and used one of his index fingers to tug them down the rest of the way, revealing the diaper totally. It was a mottled grey-yellow, indented and deformed. It looked nothing like the night before. Although none of the boys were used to seeing wet diapers, they knew that was what this way: a diaper used to capacity. Tom’s lips turned up in the corner, an almost smile.

    “Looks like that diaper did its job chief” he declared. With that, Tom turned and walked out. Greg lingered, watching his diaper crotch just a little too long. Max looked at Greg awkwardly.

    “Greg, do you need something?” Max asked quietly. Greg started.

    “No, no” he said as he walked out of the small blue room.

    At first, the used diapers went in the bathroom garbage. But, Greg soon complained about the smell. Even when Max folded them up well, they did smell. Soon, there was a garbage, really a diaper-pail, in the corner of his blue bedroom. At first, it was odd for Max to see his used diapers day after day. They were balled up tight, but yellow, used. They smelled faintly of piss, and his room did too. Nothing severe.

    Max couldn’t tell if it was better or worse when he found a nursery-sent nightlight in his room after returning from class. Tom had good fun with him about it, but defended it by saying that Amazon had only small repository of get-rid-of-diaper-smell items, and they all were babyish. Indeed, Tom said he had tried to google “get rid of diaper smell” and “adult” in the same sentence, and got nothing. Oh well.

    By that Christmas break that year, Max was wearing diapers every night regularly, and without thought. A couple times he stopped to wonder if the meds that he had involuntarily taken from Jean would wear off, or why they hadn’t. But, he didn’t dwell on this too much. Whenever he got the thought in his mind, it would slip away, fleeting.

    The last order of diapers had been 2 cases – 100 in total. He had blanched slightly when they arrived, but they were cheaper this way, and Greg had helped him split the cost. Those diapers, when unpacked, had filled a couple drawers and lined several shelves extra.

    Max decided to stay in town for Christmas while Greg and Tom when home. He hadn’t wanted to confront his Dad with his night-time-diapers. It seemed simpler this way. Those were the first days he started wearing diapers during the day. It started simply. One lazy morning he decided to eat before changing out of his diaper. Being familiar with the capcity of these diapers, he could tell now that this wet diaper could handle more. And, he had recently wet. It was warm, almost cozy. He squirted a little more piss into his diaper during breakfast. He thought about his diapers more recently. While at the kitchen table eating his oatmeal, he rubbing himself through the front of his diaper, feeling the soggy warm heavy diaper rub against his hard dick. Damn, he thought. That felt goooood. Pretty quickly, while eating, he cam into the front of his diaper. He rocked his crotch forward, clamping down on the spoon in his mouth. He felt the hot cum squirt out in his wet diaper. When he was done he panted slightly, and began to get up. He stopped, and laughed. There was no reason to get up. No cleanup. Oh shit; that was certainly a benefit to wearing diapers. He thought, remembering normal clean-up when he used to jack off. He careless rubbed his post-climax dick again through the diaper, shuddering.

    That morning, at almost noon, he changed out of his wet diaper and into a dry one. He defended it to himself. He was going to be home all day. It was like wearing at night. And, there were so many diapers in his room, who would notice a missing one.

    By the time Tom and Greg both returned from winter break, Max had been wearing diapers non-stop for almost 2 weeks. He would push them down to shit still, but wouldn’t really even clean himself up as much as he used to. It was a diaper, right? He’d think as he pulled the wet diaper from around his ankles after he shit. The guys got home at night, and it was not unexpected that Max was wearing, although he greeted them in just his diaper and short socks, which made them both grin broadly.

    But, Max had not counted on how many diapers he had gone through. The next morning, Greg noted that almost 60 diapers had been used since before they left.

    “Max, that’s like 4 per day, buddy” Greg said sternly for the 4th or 5th time. Max looked down. He had used every excuse he could think of, and the only thing left to him was the truth.

    “Well, I’ve been wearing the diapers during the day. All day.” Max intoned, very slowly, pronouncing every word as if they were fragile strange things. Greg looked at him, sitting on the side of the bed – the sheet crinkling with his movements – his diaper wet, bulging at his crotch. It did not occur to Max to be embarrassed at his used diaper.

    And, surprisingly, Greg smiled. He ruffled his hand through Max’s hair. “Look. Diapers are cheap. We can get more. Use as many as you want. If you want to wear all the time, Tom and I will totally support that” Greg said. As if on cue, Tom peaked his head it, and yelped “We sure will!” and then continued down the hall.

    Max realized two things that day. He did feel more comfortable wearing diapers during he day. But, his clothes did not fit well over them. He had spent the holiday break at home, and now he was confronted with the prospect of going to class in diapers. He went through jeans, khakis, shorts. In all of them, the diaper was woefully obvious at least to his nervous eyes. He examined himself in the mirror again, his j-crew Khakis over his diaper… the diaper contour stretching the confines of his crotch and butt, and worse still, it rustled loudly, and peaked up above the too-low waist band.

    Max eventually settled on sweat pants, through which the diaper was somewhat concealed in the folds of extra cloth. To his surprise, when he arrived in the kitchen that morning, Tom had packed him a lunch for class in a paper bag. He stuffed it into his bookbag and grinned as Tom slapped him on his diapered ass. He barely registered that Gregs hand came up and cradled Toms neck as he was walking out the door.

    Those weeks, in the early winter were both easy and careless. Max was often seen around campus in his navy blue sweat pants, paired with all manner of t-shirts or Henley’s and an accompanying jacket. Some students who sat beside him swore he smelled odd, musky, stale. Others noticed nothing. Similarly, some talked about his growing crotch or enlarging butt. There were rumors, but they only skirted the truth. The rumors rarely reached Max’s ears. When Greg or Tom heard about them, they fed the rumors slightly, obliquely. The word diaper was only mentioned in passing, hushed whispers.

    For himself, Max slept soundly at night and romped during the day. He was surprisingly happy. His thoughts had become strangely simplified. Sometimes he almost thought that his thought-process had become more child-like. He had altered his routine somewhat to accommodate the diapers, but that was greatly outweighed by the added security and comfort he got from them. This joy was not lost on Greg and Tom.

    It was early in March when Max noticed that his closet was strangely empty. It was true that he was wearing only a small selection of clothes, but still, he was momentarily taken aback by the empty shelves and naked hangers. He was back early. He has stripped out of his sweats to get them a much needed wash, and was in a white printed t and his diaper, which was slightly used, and hung a little low on his waist. Greg returned from class first to find Max in the living room watching TV and having a beer.

    “Hey Greg” Max voiced “What’s with my closet?”

    Greg barely noticed Max as he was unpacking his book bag. “Tom and I took the clothes to good will this morning. You cant wear most of them anymore. The better pieces Tom took to consignment to get some extra money to buy you new shit.” He reported matter-of-factly as if stating a fact that did not concern Max.

    “Oh” Max paused, taking in this news. “Well, I guess I could use some new clothes” he looked up at the TV as if nothing had happened, and took another sip of his beer. If Tom was going to get him a new wardrobe, great. Nice to have some more pants, he thought philosophically while looking down at his bare legs and exposed diaper. Prior to dinner, when Tom and Greg were in the kitchen, Max was sitting at the table chatting with them. He stood up slowly, and began to walk to the bathroom. Something in the way he walked, slightly bow legged, set Tom off. He walked so much like a toddler.

    “He buddy” Tom called conspiratorially “Where you going?”

    Max looked back. Strange. The hadn’t been this interested in his comings and goings before. He rubbed his flat stomach absent mindedly, and ran a hand along the waist band of his diaper. His stomach groaned, and he felt the familiar pressure building. “I’m heading to the bathroom Tom” he reported, turning to walk. “Stop!” Tom ordered, brokering no argument. “Greg and I have been talking. We think we’re spending almost $300 per month on your diapers. And, we think you should use them fully. Its just not fair” he reasoned “its like you’re throwing away half our money”

    Max stopped, puzzled. Weird argument. He dismissed them and turned to head to the bathroom. He didn’t expect Greg to tackle him, pushing him onto the plush carpet, wrestling him to the ground playfully. They tousled for a couple minutes, laughing at the unexpected physicality of it.

    Max was abruptly brought to the present when he felt the pressure in his stomach surge. He had a critical need to shit. He yelped this to Greg in a semi-strangled voice. Greg remained straddles across him, holding his arms to the floor. “Let me up Greg, I really, really gotta go” Max whined again, high pitched, which squirming. Greg paused, looking down. He mercilessly pressed a fist slowly into Maxes flat stomach. Max groaned audibly. Greg jumped off him as Max flipped over to his stomach and got himself up on his knees. His lips drew back from his teeth in nether a smile nor a grimace. Very slowly, he levered his butt out and up, his head down but his face out. Greg was kneeling beside him, and slipped a hand under the back of his t-shirt, rubbing his back from neck down to diaper butt.

    He locked eyes with Max and spoke carefully. “Don’t hold back Max. It’s OK. Do it.” In that moment, Max didn’t push – no – he simply let go the effort of holding back. And, with that, his bowels rumbled out into his waiting diaper. They filled his diapered seat. This was so much more then wetting. He thought as he felt the hot slimy mess fill his diaper and felt it continue coming out of him. Some part of him was conscious that he wet at the same time. As he continued soiling himself, he broke eye contact with Greg and closed his eyes. His diaper butt felt heavy, and sagged low between his legs.

    He eventually laid down on the floor, somehow exhausted. He was all too conscious of the full diaper he wore. Full in every sense. He felt it – warm, wet, and heavy. He smelled it. When he moved it shifted. His cheeks blushed bright red as he thought about what he had done, what he was wearing. He looked up at Tom and Greg who now stood over him… his voice was almost tearful, “I shit in my diaper” he whispered, voice quavering.

    That was when he discovered another use for the large levered desk in his room. Greg took him there, walking him gingerly. Tom and Greg had made clear he could not change himself out of this diaper. The “desk” flopped down out of the wall, and Max was stunned to see Tom quickly unfold a cushioned printing plastic mat. Even in his shocked state, standing in his full diaper, he looked at the board, covered in the white plastic mat printed with baseballs, mitts, and bats,

    His eyes widened as he looked at Greg, “This is, uh, this is a baby changing table” He said. The sheltered cubbies in the wall were filled with diaper changing supplies; baby oil, and baby powder. Pampers wipes.

    Greg paternalistically rubbed Max on the head. “No, buddy, its not a baby changing table. Its a changing table for adults who wear diapers” He reported. With that, he put his strong hands at Max’s waist and hoisted him onto the table, plopping him down on his butt. Max started. The force of him landing pushed his shit all over his backside, making him newly aware of his diaper. Strangely, his cock became hard.

    Tom appeared, and pulled off his shirt, and pushed him flat onto his back. In the hours after, Max tried to forget the humiliation of that 15 minutes. He laid on that table with his butt in the air, and the smell of his shit, while Greg cleaned his butt and Tom rubbed his chest and soothed him. He cried softly through much of the change, but his dick remained hard. Greg teased him as he put him back into a dry diaper, this time liberally applying baby oil. When he stood up, he noticed that the baby oil and powder lent him a much more infantile smell.

    It was no less then 2 months later that the first diaper-messing seemed a distant, foreign memory to Max. He tried to remember how and why it had felt so strange; this was the most natural of impulses. Letting go. He did it easily now. It just came out into his diaper. Wetting or messing. It was a diaper. It was to be used. He has wet and messed himself at breakfast yesterday, and told Tom this thought. Tom had praised him.

    “Yeah, of course, Max. For you, using you diaper is and should be the most natural thing in the world. Its the same way for all little boys” Max lifted up his chin and grinned at Toms praise. It meant a lot to him, to have Tom or Greg praise him. He would glow for hours afterwards.

    True to his word, Tom had stocked his closet with clothes that were much better suited to his attire. His jeans now were double stiched with a wide crotch and elastic waist. He had a couple pairs of overalls. Greg had even bought him a onsie recently, saying it was like an undershirt, but better for hiding his diaper. He cringed a little at that recent memory. It seemed more than a little infantile when Greg had snapped that onsie over his diaper. But, he did enjoy the way it had pushed up the diaper against his cock. He became hard just thinking about it. And, the diaper didn’t peak over his pants when he wore them. Practical, Max thought.

    Around the house, Max had noticed small changes. Nothing he could put his finger on. He complained to Tom once, and even to his own ears, it sounding like the whining of a spoiled child. The chairs in the kitchen were being changed out, and while Tom and Greg used the two remaining wooden ones, Max was stuck with a smaller plastic one that had a seat belt in it. Of course, the guys never used the belt on him. But, the chair was small, blue and red, with high arms. And, it took him a couple days, but he noticed that he was always drinking out of plastic cups now with lids and straws.

    When he mentioned it, Tom laughed “Its nothing. We’re just short on glass cups.” He almost complained when Greg wiped his mouth after dinner, but held himself back. Greg was so gentle with it, so caring, cupping the back of his head and gently wiping the wet wipe over his mouth. And, it felt nice to be touched like that by Greg.

    Also, he couldn’t tell if it was just him, but Max noticed that Tom and Greg were increasingly touching or holding each other. Simple hugging, or having arms around each other. The other night, on the couch, Max was in his new onsie and diaper, and sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and he looked up to see Tom lying with Gregs legs straddling him. When Max looked at them, they smiled and Tom winked. He shrugged, and went back to watching TV.

    Max’s last day of class was in the first week of June. He was in his overalls, which he liked wearing now. They were blue-jean color, and cut slightly large. He wore a red onsie underneath them. Tom came with him to class sometimes now, and was with him today. He sat beside Tom in the back row. He set his backpack down by his feet. His sneakers were big, white hightops. He was quite wet, and knew it now that he felt his diaper, although he barely remembered wetting. He whispered this to Tom, who shrugged. He knew that the bathroom in the Carmichael building was a pissing trough with no privacy, and a couple small stalls. There was no place to change a diaper. Max silently cursed when he felt the need to mess half way through lecture. He tugged on Toms sleeve.

    It was no use. While the professor talked about early agrarian economies, Max succumbed and soiled his diaper badly, feeling the hot mess and squirting piss assail his diaper simultaneously. Soon, the dirty diaper smell became obvious.

    “Did you mess?” Tom queried, grimacing “Phewy, that stinks. Lift up, stinky butt, let me see. It smells like you leaked.” Max lifted his butt slightly for Tom, who saw the damp crescents across the back his butt. “Damn it! I knew we should have switched to those other diapers. Greg was right” Max dropped his head onto the desk, as nearby students started turning. In the preceding months, the rumors of a diaper-wearing student had solidified, and were now commonly known.

    “Max, did you fucking mess you diaper again, baby?” a loud mouthed frat guy hooted from 2 rows in front. “I can smell that shit from here. Daddy’s gonna have to get you changed” he laughed, as a chorus of other students joined in giggling nervously and looking at Max. Kyle a sophomore seated beside Tom, was less forgiving.

    “Damn it. It smells like a diaper-baby-fucking-nursery here. If you’re still wetting and shitting your diapers like a baby maybe you should be in nursery school and not a college seminar, and let us adults concentrate?” Kyle lectured.

    To the sound of laughs, Max walked out of the lecture hall, his wet and messy diaper obvious as Tom walked beside him.

    After that episode in lecture, the changes came quickly for Max throughout that spring and summer.

    He was already diapered all the time, and, after his original diapers leaked occasionally, Greg had switched him to thicker diapers. He had seen the ordering site; these were diapers only worn by completely incontinent men. They were loud, thick, and impossible to hide. In order to compensate, his wardrobe had changed radically. The onsies had multiplied. They were perfect for fitting over the thick diapers. They held them up, and in place. And, Greg liked to say, they prevented Max from tampering with his own diapers. As if Max was going to. He was perfectly content with Greg and Tom handling that.

    The story of his soiling his diaper in class had become common knowledge. Their school was not large, and now it seemed that every student knew that Max wore diapers. This was a blessing and a curse. After initial mocking and taunting, students seems to let him be. It was for the best, since his diapers were not easily concealable under his clothes. He was mostly in overalls now when he went out. On some of the overalls, there were leg snaps so that Tom or Greg could get to his diaper easier. With the leg snaps and the onsie, he was surprised to realized they could change his diapers without undressing him.

    In addition to his onsies, he had sleepers for overnight – long tight playful printed things which exaggerated the contour of his diaper butt and his thin toned limbs. For the day, he had slowly built up a collection of toddlerish clothes: rompers for in the house – loose garments in which he could play. Greg had also bought him some shortalls, which were mostly for inside, but he had endured an embarrassing trip to the park in them once, where, blessedly, he had not been seen. But, often, he was in just a diaper or a t-shirt and diaper.

    The other changes were incremental. The desk-changing table came down permanently, with a baby-boy printed covering, and became a changing table in truth.

    He first had a towel around his neck, then, when the towel grew dirty with his food, he was given a bib. His plastic chair with a belt became a larger chair with a tray, and then a lockable high chair. His plastic-covered cup became a sippy cup.

    It was this way that Max found himself near the end of the summer. He had been home from classes for 2 months, and his life had become, in reality, that of a kid. Maybe even that of a toddler he thought. He still had say over his actions. But, he was, in some ways confined by his diaper and clothing. And, in truth, he needed the diapers now, and had come to enjoy them.

    It was a morning in late summer when Max stumbled from his bed – still plastic sheet covered, but now with short railings. He was clad in a tight white onsie which had small barely visible soccer ball prints. This onsie covered his engorged diaper. He waddled more then walked into the hallway. Sounds down the hall caught his attention and he wandered to them, opening the door to Greg’s room. He paused at the door. Greg and Tom were both naked, kneeling, Greg straddling Tom from the back. Toms dick was hard. Greg was behind him. They both looked up at Max. Their skin was glistened with sweat.

    “Hi boy” Greg voiced, throaty, husky. “You come to play with your daddies?” he asked. Max looked over, and felt his cock hard in his diaper. Greg looked at Max “You know that inflatable stuffed horse we got you? Go get it, come back” Max scampered through the house, returning moments later. “Mount it at the foot of the bed” Greg ordered, while Tom moaned.

    Max sat down at the foot of the bed and straddled his horse. His wet diaper, bound by his onsie, pushed up mightily against his cock.

    “Now ride it until you cum” Greg ordered, and he continued taking Tom from behind. Max moved his hips back and forth, while looking at Tom and Greg, and feeling his cock trapped, hard, in the wet diaper. He was about to cum when Tom reached forward and slipped something into his mouth. It was long and plastic, and Max felt the guard around his mouth. It was a large pacifier. He sucked and sucked and watched the men above him gyrating as his dick exploded into his waiting diaper. He continued humping and moaning as he fell forward.