“What are the stakes today?” The weasel asked as he flopped down on the couch beside his friend, causing the other anthro to bounce with the force of his impact. There was an audible crinkle settled into his seat, and his roommate turned to smirk at him. He blushed enough to turn the insides of his ears crimson and had to look away as his buddy glanced pointedly down at his crotch. Not only was there a painfully obvious bulge in his cargo shorts from his padding, but the ruffled waistband of his diaper peeked out nearly an inch above his waist. The glossy, white protection was clearly visible against Tripp’s reddish-brown coat. Being a mustelid, he had a long, sinuous torso relative to the other anthros he knew, which made it difficult to find shirts long enough to not ride up and expose his disposable, plastic underwear.

Luckily, his best friend, Wilder, had long ago learned he was an ABDL and had not been disgusted by his embarrassing fetish, even if he had never expressed interest to take part in it. This allowed him to wear his diapers as much as he wanted around the apartment without fear of discovery. He enthusiastically took advantage of the state of affairs, and was rarely without a puffy, often damp, diaper taped around his hips. The field mouse still teased him mercilessly for wearing them at the same time, but that was just the sort of relationship the pair had and a small price to pay for the enjoyment that waddling around brought him.

Although they were both 21-years-old, they had been fast friends since elementary school. For as long as either of them could recall they got together on weekends to play video games. They played everything from fighting games to first person shooters to strategy games and more. Both being highly competitive and thrill-seeking risk-takers, it didn’t take long for their competition to begin carrying weight. It began with bets of allowance or saved up lunch money when they were cubs, but escalated over the years to move away from cash and instead involve a variety of dares that the loser would need to complete. Sometimes these took the form of something difficult or uncomfortable, like knocking back shots of hot sauce, but usually they ended up being humiliating challenges. 

Wilder had once been forced to order pizza and answer the door wearing a pair of lace panties. Tripp had to make a post complaining about how small his penis was on social media. The mouse had to go to work with a butt plug in for an entire shift. The weasel once had to pretend to lock himself outside wearing nothing but a towel and convince a neighbor to buzz him back into the apartment building. 

It wasn’t terribly uncommon for their dares to slip into the realm of the overtly sexual. The forfeits had been pawjobs on several occasions. Both furs were gay and there was definitely some sexual tension between them that had ebbed and flowed over the years, so these encounters, while enjoyable at the time, often left things awkward between them for a few days afterward until things shifted back into a steady, casual rhythm. This period of nervousness was especially pronounced after the first couple times, since a few of these happened before they were fully out to each other or even themselves. Still, Tripp wouldn’t trade the first blowjob he ever gave away for the world. He still remembered the salty taste of the rodent’s cum on his tongue as he swallowed the hot, sticky load.It was actually through these games, their own personalized version of Truth or Dare, that the mustelid’s “little” side had been disclosed.

Tripp had never grown out of being a bedwetter. Without a diaper on at night he would wake up at least twice a week with soaked sheets, which his friend knew and accepted from the countless sleepovers they had as youths. What he didn’t know was that while he acted ashamed of this for years, secretly he loved having the need...until the weasel lost a round where the bet was for the loser to reveal their most embarrassing secret.

“I’ve got an idea, crinkle slink,” Wilder responded, regarding the gamble for the day. “How about: if I win, I get control of your phone and social media for one hour? I bet you have a ton of...interesting selfies that I could post online.”

He was bringing serious stakes today. He must be feeling on his game. Tripp was up for the challenge.

“Fine, but if we are involving my diapers in this: if I win, you have to wear, and use some of my diapers for the rest of the day, as well as act like a good little cub. Don’t worry, I’ll coach you on how,” he replied, leaning in close as he spoke. “Then we can see how you feel about padding.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before nodding simultaneously.

“Deal!” They affirmed in tandem.

They quickly gathered snacks and drinks for the session, then each grabbed their controllers and after a brief deliberation on the genre of game and number of rounds they chose a title and got started. With such a dire wager on the table that day, they both gave their all, aggressively mashing away at the buttons and talking trash. They were constantly evenly matched and each round came down to the wire. After an intense session, the dust finally settled.

“Yes! Victory!” The weasel declared immaturely. He pumped his fist into the air as his roommate sighed in defeat and slumped back into the cushions.

“I demand a recount,” Wilder huffed. “Bring me one of your diapers, I guess.”

“You mean one of your diapers,” Tripp countered with a wink.

The striped field mouse rolled his eyes. 

Tripp disappeared into his bedroom and opened the drawer of his dresser that housed his diaper stash. The wooden drawers were colorfully decorated with a plethora of prints and designs, despite about half of the diapers contained within being merely plain white ones. He was going to reach for those simple ones and save the ones with fun patterns for himself, but decided that since this might be the only time he ever got to see his best friend toddle around in nothing but a diaper, he might as well enjoy it as much as possible. Considering that the murine was willing to embarrass him so thoroughly if he lost, he picked out a particularly humiliating diaper to put Wilder in. It was still primarily white, but with frilly, bubblegum-pink trim around the waist, legs, and the hole for the wearer’s tail. Bright pink hearts and pawprints of various species decorated the padding.

He collected a couple of spare diapers of various styles for changes, as well as a few choice pieces of babyfur paraphernalia for the day. It was scarcely after lunchtime, and that meant there were many hours to treat the mouse like a little cub and there would be no way that the rodent would be able to avoid at least one change throughout the day. When he returned a few minutes later with the sissy diaper presented in his paw, Wilder cocked a brow.

“You’ve got to be joking,” he commented incredulously, eyeing the protection.

“Now, now- no talking back. Trust me, you’d rather I treat you like a good cub than a bad one. And until midnight, you need to call me ‘Daddy.’ Unless you’d rather get a spanking?”

Wilder sighed heavily.

“Whatever, let’s get this over with.”

It was the weasel’s turn to arch a brow.

“Let’s get this over with, Daddy,” he corrected himself, adopting a higher pitched voice that Tripp assumed was meant to be mocking, but actually complemented his slight frame and soon-to-be status as a little as well.

“Much better,” Tripp chirped.

The mouse stood up and started to undress. He was not particularly self-conscious about his body since his roommate had seen him naked more times that he could count over the years. But just as he was about to pull off his shirt, the mustelid trotted across the room and stopped him by placing a paw firmly on his shoulder.

“I think you’ll need Daddy’s help with that, little one,” he insisted before laying the gear he had brought with him down on the coffee table. “Lift up your arms.”

The rodent set his jaw and silently lifted his paws above his head.

Tripp grabbed the hem of his shirt with both claws and tugged it upward, pulling it off over his friend’s outstretched arms. The collar caught on his large, round ears a bit- they swooped out wide, constantly alert and rotating- but after a moment’s adjustment pulled free.

The mouse had a slender build. He was just a bit slimmer than his friend, but not by much. He was athletic enough that if his fur wasn’t quite so fuzzy one would likely be able to see the lines of his hips and groin as they disappeared into his pants, but his coat gave him a deceptively soft appearance. His pelt was mostly tawny, dappled here and there with darker splotches of brown, but with a lighter, pale tan underbelly from chin to groin. He had a single dark streak of mocha running down from the back of his head between his ears to where his tail began at the base of his spine. He stared petulantly at his friend with his entirely black, watery eyes which had an amazingly expressive quality to them. The skin of his nose, inner ears, and paws were a rose-tinted peach. He knew he was adorable, which was unfortunately at odds with his sly and competitive nature, but anthros often not taking him seriously usually did end up giving him an unexpected competitive edge so it was difficult for him to resent it.

Tripp grinned as he playfully brushed his charge’s chin with his knuckles, just barely resisting the urge to call him “Champ.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much already...Daddy,” Wilder remarked dryly.

“Diapers were your idea. Just be glad I’m letting you talk at all and not just babble incoherently,” he weasel replied. His deft paws undid the fly on his friend’s jeans. 

The mouse wore tight denim, and Tripp had to yank the fabric to get them down his hips. The weasel continued to beam as he placed a paw on the hollow of his roommate’s chest and guided him back onto the couch again, then wrestled the pants off over his footpaws one at a time, leaving the murine sitting in only his underwear. He was wearing form-fitting trunks, his last vestige of adulthood. They were vibrant green with onyx piping, and accentuated his modest bulge.

The mustelid hooked his claws into the waistband of the rodent’s sporty boxer-briefs and slipped them down and off as well. While he wasn’t fully sporting an erection, his sheath was visibly plump, with the peach tip of his member poking out just slightly from its confines.

“Who’s enjoying this a bit too much?” Tripp taunted, poking a finger at the mouse’s groin and tickling it slightly, making his penis involuntarily twitch and jump.

“It’s just being undressed like this, is all. It’s like we’re about to fuck,” he spat, clearly blushing.

The weasel grabbed his friend’s ankles and rotated his body so that he lay lengthwise on the couch.

“Keep your legs up for me for a minute,” the taller fur requested. “And watch your language!”

Wilder grabbed behind his knees and kept his legs up and splayed apart. His tail draped off the side of the cushion, revealing his tight pucker beneath his adequate sac. Tripp forced himself not to admire the curvature of his friend’s ass for too long long before he unfolded the diaper and slid it beneath his rump, threading his tail through the hole intended for it. He reached over to the small pile of items he brought with him from his bedroom and grabbed a bottle of powder. He shook a generous amount of the talc onto his best friend’s groin with a plume of white smoke. The unmistakable scent filled the room as the snowy dust coated his crotch and perfectly outlined his sheath and balls.

Tripp then pulled the front of the diaper up over his friend’s groin and held in place. He deftly secured all four tapes with a single paw, drawing them tightly into their proper place and snuggly hugging his roommate’s pelvis. He envied the mouse for getting to experience his first time in a diaper as an adult, and wished he could relive the experience himself. The mustelid tapped the crotch of the diaper with his fingertips, his claws drumming loudly against the plastic. The mouse scowled at him as he propped himself up on his elbows to glare at his companion, making the diaper rustle and crinkle with each small movement he made. It was strange to feel his hindquarters cushioned by the thick, warm padding, but the sensation wasn’t entirely a bad one.

“Hold out your paws,” the weasel commanded with gentle dominance. The murine complied and his roommate slipped a pink, padded mitt over each fist, which thoroughly hampered his natural dexterity. He buckled each one and cinched them tight, locking away his friend’s fine motor skills. 

“You look adorable,” the weasel said at last, making his friend bristle.

“So, uh...what should I, you know...do? Daddy?” The mouse inquired, clearly uncertain of how to proceed.

“Maybe I should take you to play in the park?” He suggested.

Wilder’s eyes widened fretfully for an instant.

“Just kidding,” Tripp calmed him. “Let’s keep it to basics for just a bit. Why don’t you crawl around on the floor for a little bit and get used to it and I’ll get you something to drink?”

He watched as his friend rolled off the couch and down onto his paws on the carpet. His tail swept out limply behind him, but his haunches were high enough to hoist his padded rump higher than his top half, giving his temporary caregiver an excellent view of the patterned lining  that obscured the contours of his butt. While the rodent started to shuffle tentatively about the floor, Tripp disappeared into the kitchen. There he filled one of his many sippy cups with sweetened cranberry juice. In addition to the drinks they had while gaming, the juice was sure to make him need to pee urgently in the very near future.

When he returned he set the cup down on the coffee table and watched the striped field mouse awkwardly crawl around the room, clearly unused to his thighs being forced so far apart by the bulky material between them. The effort must have made him thirsty, because it didn’t take long for Wilder to shamble his way toward the table and try to grab the sippy cup. His first attempt was made with a single paw, but the mitt thwarted that thoroughly, and he succeeded in only knocking it aside by a few inches where it wobbled but somehow remained upright. He nearly hid his face in his paws when Tripp smiled knowingly at him.

He had another go of it. He brought himself upright on his knees and squared his stance to not fall over, then held the cup tentatively with a paw on either side of it and carefully brought it to his muzzle. He tilted it back and tried to drain it, but found that not much liquid could make it through the small nozzle-like tip at a time and had to hold it awkwardly aloft for a long while, sucking the sweet juice from the hole until it was almost all gone. 

The weasel considered tying him up and forcing him to watch infantile cartoons until his diaper was full and dripping, but ultimately decided that he wanted him to be more active during his impromptu babyfur experimentation. He instead brought out a coloring book and a handful of crayons for his new cub, although he still changed the television to something appropriately animated and juvenile before instructing his charge to color him a picture. He knew that it was going to be fun watching Wilder fumble with crayons while he waited a couple of minutes for the sugary drink to work its magic. He had already had knocked back several drinks while they were gaming and it was only a matter of time before the excess fluid did its job.

Sure enough, it was only a few short minutes until the padded rodent was noticeably squirming while he lay on his belly on the floor. Tripp grinned impishly as he watched the mouse’s padded rear wriggle and his tail lash this way and that. Eventually, he shifted positions and sat back on his rump. His fidgeting increased by the second. Finally, he was kneeling and almost bouncing back and forth from knee to knee. As the mustelid expected, his friend was hesitant to release in his diaper for the first time of his own accord. His need would grow and grow until it was completely unbearable. When he would at last be convinced to wet himself it would be a total flood and make his diaper squishy and sodden in a single, powerful deluge. It was going to be an intense experience, going by his own first time, and he was glad he would be there to witness it and tease him about it.

“What’s the matter, mousey? Gotta’ pee?”

Wilder looked over his shoulder to where the taller anthro lounged on the couch. He looked precious as he bit his lip, nodded, and made an affirmative sound. His ears twitched a bit, a habit that betrayed when he was aggravated about something. He tried to glare but it was clear that his urge to relieve himself, and the overwhelming embarrassment at being treated in such a manner, was overriding any seething resentment that he felt.

“Go ahead. That’s what your diapers are for,” he assured him, leaning forward to ruffle the fur on the top of his friend’s head with one paw, making him lean away and blush as he stared sharply in response. “You’re going to have to eventually, so you might as well get it over with and get used to it.”

“...alright,” Wilder responded with an overly emphatic sigh. “But I’m not ‘getting used to it.’” He looked down and saw that he was clutching at his crotch with his mitted paws due to his need to pee.

He took a deep breath and tried to piss, but found it strangely difficult to break the training of years of adulthood despite his agonizing urgency. He pushed so much that his face skewed with the effort and managed to unleash a small torrent of urine that lasted for about a second. He tried again and the stream lasted just a bit longer, relieving the smallest amount of tension in his bladder. With one final push he finally opened the floodgates. A cascade of warm urine filled his padding. There was an audible hiss as pee sprayed against the absorbent lining of his crinkling protection. 

The field mouse’s ears tinted red and his eyes widened as relief washed over him. He found that with how badly he needed to pee he couldn’t control the power of his flow and a damp, yellow-tinted splotch spread across the front of his diaper, rapidly swelling against the plastic. He quivered with pleasure as the pressure and effort from holding back dissolved entirely. The weasel sat up and moved closer, then smirked as he reached down and placed a paw under the soggy diaper. He hefted it up, feeling its warmth and weight. It was heavy, and he squeezed it mischievously. The scent of piss escaped as it compressed in his claws. The diaper hadn’t fully absorbed the full flow just yet, and a bit of urine dribbled down the rodent’s inner thigh.

“Wow! You really had to go, huh?”

The hot squish of the diaper around his sheath triggered something within Wilder. He wasn’t certain if it was some deep-seated desire for the diapers, for his friend, or merely the enjoyable wet, warm sensation around his genitals, but he was undeniably horny. He felt his maleness swell and throb, and distinctly became aware of the rigid tip of his penis entreating further out of its damp, furry confines than it had earlier. He tensed and trembled as the wet protection rubbed against his sensitive, exposed flesh. Tripp noticed the telltale signs of pleasure and tucked his chin as he smirked down at his friend. He slowly moved his paw higher along the front of the diaper and felt the growing lump of hardness through the plastic. As he stiffened, the vague outline of his cock formed against the padding.

“You know what I think? I think you like this way more than you expected to,” the mustelid commented.

Wilder looked away with a huff.

“And if you like this, you’ll love what I have planned for you next!”

He reached into his pile of little stuff and retrieved his vibrating massager wand. His roommate gave it a curious, sidelong glance. The weasel placed the bulb-shaped tip against the front of Wilder’s spent diaper and turned it on. Even at its lowest setting the force of the vibrations were powerful. The field mouse gasped in surprise and delight as the buzzing instrument made his entire length tingle. With his free paw, Tripp snatched a pacifier from the bundle of fetish gear and shoved the silicone nub into the rodent’s open maw. It was white and pink, matching his mittens and current diaper.

“If that falls out of your mouth before you’ve finished, you're not going to get to cum,” he warned.

The mustelid dialed up the power for emphasis which made his charge groan with pleasure and nearly dropped the pacifier from his muzzle. He quickly adapted and suckled on the small rubber knob to keep it in place as he shivered and writhed with euphoria. Tripp slid completely off the couch to join his roommate, his sinuous form practically melting to the floor in front of his friend. He managed to undo his shorts with a single paw and shimmy them off of his hips and down off his legs, leaving him in nothing but his pelt and his own used diaper from the waist down.

The burnished copper fur of his coat was coarse, but long and kept brushed to a sleek, glossy sheen. The fuzz of his underside was plush and white in color. It began just below his snout, ran down his neck, and disappeared beneath his collar before making an appearance again on his abdomen in the bare sliver between his shirt and the ruffled waist of his diaper. The snowy fluff finally ending along his inner thighs above his knees. His tail was tipped with a dark umber tuft of fur that puffed out slightly despite his best efforts. The weasel had a marginally denser build than his friend and angular features. His paws and inner ears were a fleshy pink, but his nose is a pinprick of ebony that complemented his rich chocolate eyes. 

He inched forward until their thighs touched and their bellies and pelvises were mere inches apart. His own padding barely did much to conceal his rigid maleness. Then, he deliberately pressed his own groin to Wilder’s with only the sex toy separating their diaper-clad erections. He rolled back his shoulders and neck and exhaled with satisfaction as he felt the reverberations of the wand. The scents of their arousals and urine rose and mingled in the air. The two anthros became hyper-sensitive to the pheromones, driven on by a jointly experienced heat.

Tripp started grinding his wet diaper against the other fur’s, who humped back in response. The bliss and promise of immediate gratification overruled his innate sense of embarrassment at the scenario. They moaned and grunted and panted together. The mustelid slowly turned up the power on the wand until it was maxed out. The thick diapers muffled the sensation just enough that Wilder couldn’t yet quite force himself over the edge to climax as he sucked on his pacifier, but still he felt himself slowly approach the precipice of orgasm. Heat and pressure built behind his sac. His needy shaft twitched against the lining of his diaper.

Then Tripp switched off the wand.

Wilder whimpered.

“Why did you stop?” he exclaimed exasperated. The pacifier wiggled against his lips with each word he uttered, making him slur and slurp a bit as he spoke. “I was so close and you might never get me to do this again.”

The weasel looked sharply at the rodent.

“...Daddy?”

“Better. And I stopped because I want to do this.”

The mustelid gripped his friend’s hips and turned him around until he was on his paws and knees again, then ground his diaper against his roommate’s hindquarters, playfully nipping at his long tail as it swished by his muzzle. Even with the thick layers of padding between them, Wilder could feel the solid shape of his friend’s member against his ass. He knew he would regret letting things go this far with Tripp and they would have an awkward morning the next day, but he was so horny that he couldn’t help but give in. He wriggled his hips back against the pulsing erection.

The weasel grabbed the frilly back of Wilder’s diaper and tugged it down until the field mouse’s pucker was exposed. He had some oil with his things and quickly slicked his fingers before he placed his paw at his friend’s cleft and teased his eager hole. He slipped in the top digit of one claw, prodding in and out, feeling the tight heat constrict around the intrusion. The rodent huffed and quivered, relaxing his body to allow his roommate to probe deeper. Tripp moved his finger in a circular motion, twisting it as if going around the rim of a glass as he slid in further. The greased digit made it in all the way to the knuckle and he beckoned inside of the rodent. He knew he had found his best friend’s sweet spot when he abruptly tensed as he repeatedly brushed past a certain point within him. He put some pressure on it and massaged Wilder’s prostate.

Wilder gasped as he unleashed spurts of pre into his diaper, surprised that he wasn’t pushed over the edge by the fingering alone. A second finger eventually joined the first and the taller anthro slowly spread them apart in a scissoring motion. Each time they came back together he plunged them in as deep as he could and twisted, loving the way his roommate’s breathing grew ragged under his ministrations. When he finally pulled his digits free, Wilder felt empty without them and frustrated that he had been so close to climax. He arched his back, silently begging to be mated.

Tripp drooped his slinky form over him and supported himself with one paw as he fished his cock and balls free of his sodden diaper. He hooked the waist beneath his scrotum. His coral length was at its full six-and-a-quarter inches, and throbbing as it generously leaked pre. He lined his needy shaft up with the mouse’s entrance and bucked his hips, thrusting himself forward. He trusted that he had adequately stretched his friend open and forced himself halfway in before slowing. Even then, he didn’t wait long. He continued to press, going further and further, inch by inch, until he had fully hilted the murine. They groaned in unison as he buried himself and made long slow brushes past his prostate.

The mustelid’s body made a long smooth curve as he angled himself to hump, pulling out three-quarters of the way before driving back in until his sheath butted up against his friend’s cleft and his sac smacked against the taut plastic of his well-used diaper that was still stretched between his thighs. He picked up his pace until he was pistoning in and out. His carnal urges took over and he bit down on his roommate’s collar as he mated him and grasped his hip with one claw. 

He reached into the front of the field mouse’s padding and wrapped his paw firmly around his trembling length. 

“What do you think of diapers now?” The inflection of his voice promised that his next course of action would be based on the response.

“They’re not so bad, I guess,” Wilder responded, panting.

The weasel started to withdraw his paw.

“Daddy!” The rodent quickly added, then felt the fingers close around his aching shaft again. A fresh trickle of watery pre dribbled over and made them slippery.

He had a limited range of motion in the tight confines, but stroked it in small, erratic motions. The sounds of crinkling and sex filled the apartment as they fucked. Tripp felt the mouse beneath him tense, the muscles of his gut tightening. Then, Wilder’s body seized as he unleashed an involuntary squeak. His erection pulsed as it unloaded rope after rope of sticky rodent cum. It filled the already damp diaper and coated Tripp’s paw in his essence. The potent scent suffused the air, intertwining with the aroma of pheromones and piss. As he came, he flexed his ring tightly around his roommate’s penis, clamping down around it. 

The heat and pressure sent a wave of pleasure rushing over the weasel and pushed him over the edge. He snarled when he reached his orgasm. He bucked and hilted himself in his friend as he flooded his friend with his seed- so much so that he felt it leak out around his sensitive length. He let his weight fall on his submissive as he basked in the afterglow. It was several long seconds before his spent erection slipped from Wilder’s rump, trailing with it gooey strands of ejaculate. He lazily tugged his friend’s diaper back up into place, letting it catch his leavings. He rolled off of his roommate and in his post-orgasmic haze milked the last vestiges of his climax from his penis. Then he stuffed himself back into his own padding.

Wilder looked over to him, bashful again now that the intoxicating effects of arousal no longer nullifying his sense of shame. With the cooling cum leaking from his hole and the swollen, soggy diaper around his waist, he suddenly felt unpleasant. He squirmed a bit. Tripp could tell that he was wrestling with his pride over whether or not to ask to opt out of the rest of the day, and decided to take things into his own paws to make sure that it continued.

“If you continue to behave yourself, diaper boy, I might let you earn a change before bed.”