This is Chapter 4 to a commissioned novel. It is set in the Two Weeks universe, and is universe canon. The story follows Talikin, a 29 year old fox who's fed up with nearly everything, and is looking to make a serious change in his life, and his boyfriend, Matt, a German Shepard that never outgrew his selfish, childhood habits. Unexpectedly, that change comes in the form of the pair being targeted by a secret society.

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Story Text: (FA formatting is crap. Download to read it the way it was meant to be read.)
The Vacant Years: Chapter 5

After the exertion of the fight, the emotional torment of being practically diapered and force fed, and now the humiliation of being expected to clean, Matt collapsed into the armchair in the corner with a sigh, and tried to dose off. What was she going to do? Spank him? The Shepard giggled at the thought, and day dreamed about being back with Talikin, his quietly acquiescent mate, and lazily watching TV while he cooked and cleaned. That was the life.
Matt was suddenly woken from his daze by the sound of the door opening, and jerked up to see Telia scowling into the room, and at him, from the doorway. "It's more of a mess then when I left!" she said, clearly trying to keep her cool, "you've got thirty minutes left, Matt. If this room isn't clean by nap time, you can expect more carrots and peas for lunch. Am I clear?"
Matt gasped, eyes going wide, and muttered, "Y-yes..." before Telia nodded, turned again and shut the door, leaving the still fussing canine to sulk in peace. "Stupid tiger..." he grumbled to himself, looking over the mess he had made, and procrastinated until there was a mechanical hissing coming from the speaker next to the door.
"Twenty five minutes, puppy. Better get to work," Telia said over the intercom, startling Matt, who jumped to his feet in shock.
The Shepard surveyed the damage, head hanging in shame and frustration at his cruel circumstances, then begrudgingly began gathering up the clothes he had scattered, piling them lazily at the foot of the dresser. Next, he picked up all the other stuff and crammed it onto the shelves and countertop again, not really paying attention to what went where. He tossed all the socks back into the top drawer and closed it, then stuffed the unfolded shirts and shorts into the same drawer, even though they were supposed to be separated. About half way through the remaining twenty minutes, he began unconsciously wiggling back and forth as he worked frantically, if unproductively, to tidy the room before his time limit ran out. He closed the dresser drawers, clamping down on his full bladder, and looked around for more things to clean. It was only when the Shepard started whimpering to himself that he realized how very long it had been since he had last gone to the bathroom: 24 hours at least.
Unconsciously, he stood and headed for the door, knowing there was a bathroom right outside of it and to the left, but nearly walked headfirst into the hardwood when he remembered it was locked from the outside. Growling a bit, Matt tapped the speaker next to the door, hoping it was the microphone as well as the speaker, "H-hello?! Telia? This whole room is clean, and I need to go the the bathroom..." he blushed and spat his anger at the microphone, ashamed that he had been reduced to practically begging to be given freedom of the bathroom, "Like, NOW!" He finally said when no response was forthcoming, and kicked the door, "I need to piss, here!"
Matt couldn't remember the last time he had been so desperate to pee, after easily a day of holding it, and compulsively squatted and whined to himself with the strain. Finally, the speaker hissed and he could hear Telia's voice, "Oh alright, alright. I'll be up in a second to let you out, just let me-"
"No, NOW!" Matt shouted into the speaker, hopping leg to leg like a needy toddler in the strain.
"Well, how about I leave you to soak that pull-up, since you're being so whiny?" Telia said back, and Matt practically squealed.
"N-NO! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry... Please let me out!" he was practically on the verge of tears as Telia paused, then replied a moment later.
"Alright, sweetie. I'll be up to let you go potty in a second," the tigress's sweet voice came back, but it was already too late. Matt leaked a bit at first, feeling the hot, long confined contents of his bladder start to soak his pants, then his waning defense ruptured entirely, and the urine rushed in a torrent down either side of his leg, soaking through the thin fabric of his shorts and pooling on the laminated tile below. Matt broke down and wailed as his masculine scent filled the room, the lingering, bitter aroma a constant reminder of what he had done. To make a bad situation worse, seconds later he could hear a latch being opened outside the door, which swung open silently to reveal a concerned, slightly startled looking Telia, who took one glance at the whimpering pup and shook her head. "Not going to have any accidents, eh?" she said, less judgmental than he would have expected, then sighed, "Wow... you must have soaked right through that-" The tigress stopped mid-sentence, and reached over to pull down his shorts. Matt fussed, but was too conflicted to put up any resistance, and his shorts quickly went down around his knees. "Matt..." she practically hissed, "Where are your pull-ups?"
"Fuck you and your pull-ups!" Matt growled between sobs, kicking his soaked shorts away and spasming with fury, "you knew this would happen! You left me in here on-" the Shepard went silent as Telia's paw wrapped around his muzzle again, grip tight as iron, and dragged him across the room with no account for his comfort. "Rrrrgghhh! Mmphhhhh!" Matt grunted and whined through the tigress's paw, grabbing at it to take the tension off it, but could do nothing as she cleared off the countertop, and bullied the pee soaked canine onto it.
"Sit still and be quiet," she said to him, pinning his chest with a hand that was far stronger than it looked, and pulled a belt out of a wall socket, then clipped it in place on the other side of you. Matt kicked and squirmed violently, shouting out his anger and frustration now that his muzzle was freed, and tried to punch, kick, or hurt her in any way he could. He even connected once or twice, but they made no more of an impact than the fists of a child upon their parent's sides. One by one, Telia pinned an arm or leg, then buckled a strap around the wrist or ankle, leaving it nearly immobile. In under a minute, she had him restrained by the soft leather cuffs, oddly light against his fur, and naked on what, Matt realized only belatedly, was a changing table.
"N-NO! You can't do this to me!" Matt shouted, squirming in his debilitating restraints, but Telia once again muzzled him with a paw, mostly silencing his protests.
"I can and I am doing this to you," she said firmly, "If I hear so much as another peep from you after I let go of your mouth, you're going to be laying here for an hour, muzzled, and nothing but your own piddle for company. Which, by the way, you will be mopping up once I'm done with you. Do we understand each other?" Matt squirmed for another few minutes, cries eventually giving ways to whimpers, which gave way to sobs, which gave way to silence. Broken for the moment, he nodded. "Good puppy," she said to him, and let go of his tender muzzle. Matt didn't speak, not even meeting her eye, and sulked on the table as Telia left the room for a few minutes, wondering what torment he was going to be forced to undergo, next.
The red and black striped feline came back five minutes later carrying a duffle bag, and carefully avoided the piddle puddle in the doorway as she walked over, dropping it at the foot of the changing table and unzipping it.
"You're a lucky pup," she said with a smile, good humor apparently restored, and showed him something that made his heart skip a beat, "I just happen to have diapers in your size. Too bad you hadn't just worn your pull-ups like I told you too, or else this wouldn't be happening right now."
Bound and helpless, Matt could only growl and sob out his violently warring emotions as she showed him the bulky, oversized pamper she had chosen from him. It was white with printed blue puppies on the front panel, which read, 'Pamper's Big Babies,' as though the point of this punishment needed to be hammered home any further. She wedged a hand under his back and lifted the brown and black furred canine enough to slip the diaper underneath him, then got out an assortment of powders, lotions, creams and other, horrible things. Telia started by covering his squirming and wriggling hindquarters and crotch with a cool, white cream, then powdered the whole area. The diaper's padded core felt like a pillow underneath him, or a thin comforter folded in half. When his feline caretaker pulled the diaper up and between his legs, showing again that horrible pampers logo and infantile front print, he couldn’t stifle a few tears of unrelenting shame. How had this come to happen to him, of all people? Sure, he was lazy, but he wasn't that bad of a guy, right? Why had these people targeted him...?
"Awww, just look at how cute you are, sweetie," Telia teased, gently scratching his exposed belly and purring in delight at his helplessness, "I'll have to get a few photos for my album."
"P-please..." Matt muttered, looking up at her, desperation in his eyes. She turned back, looking more curious than angry, and grinned at him.
"Yes, sweetie?" Telia said, going back to scratching him.
"Can I get up, now? My legs itch..." Matt whimpered, the urine having entrenched into his fur by now, and squirmed at the irritating itch as diaper rash set in all along the insides of his legs.
"Here, let me help you," his caretaker said, with a maternal note in her voice that he had never heard from her before, and got a handful of lotion damp wipes from a dispenser, which she then slowly ran back and forth along the irritated fur where his pee had gotten. The soothing sensation felt wonderful, and he was even willing to relax a little and enjoy her affectionate belly scratching. For a second, if only just a second, Matt considered that maybe he had misjudged her, and that it had actually been his fighting that was the problem, but, at least for the moment, that was wishful thinking. The tigress giggled, then put down the wipes and hopped down the stairs, "I'll be right back with my camera."
Matt went back to whimpering almost silently as Telia turned and left, leaving him still bound and powerless to escape or resist. The wipes had helped somewhat in reducing his skin's irritation, but it still itched, and the desire to scratch the area was greater even than the desire to be free of the awful, padded garment. He shut his eyes tight, lip quivering, trying to stave off tears, and was failing in the contest until the tigress returned. He might cry to himself in the corner, but wasn't about to reduce himself like that in front of that tormenting feline...
"Smile for the camera," Telia said with a bright smirk, holding a big, DSLR style camera. Matt didn't know enough about photography to guess what its specifications were, but knew how expensive those kinds of careras could be. He blushed and tried to look away, knowing that any photos she took of him like this would bind tighter than even the straps around his wrists and ankles. He couldn't even escape if the opportunity presented itself with the knowledge that those photos existed, and could easily be posted to the internet for anyone to see. It was the perfect blackmail.
Telia circled him, snapping thirty or forty pictures of his pampered bottom, blushing face and squirming body from all different angles, all the while appearing to relish in his humiliation, "Oh, cheer up, pup," she said, good naturedly despite the torture that she was so playfully putting him through, "you'll get used to them."
Matt could have filled several minutes with the various insults and denials he had conjured, but held his tongue, mouth firmly closed, the threat of a muzzle from earlier still hanging in his mind. "C- Can I get up, now?" he begged, head hanging low in shame, and gauged the tigress's face for a reaction.
Telia looked him over, setting the camera aside, "I suppose so," she said, nodding matter of factly, "once I get your plastic pants on, that is. We wouldn't want you to leak all over the place, now would we?"
Matt was burning up inside with rage, and it took every ounce of his restraint to keep from throwing another tantrum, but, luckily for him, he just went limp and accepted his fate. "No..." he agreed, very solemnly, but, in the light of his earlier accident, couldn't really deny it, humiliating as it was.
"There's a good baby," she said with a giggle, leaning in to pat Matt's diaper, and scratched his vulnerable belly. She walked over to the duffle bag she had carried from downstairs, and removed what looked like an oversized pair of clear, plastic underwear. They were bright purple, shiny, and crinkled horrendously when she moved them, much like a grocery store plastic bag. He didn't notice the inlayed chain in the waistband.
"Not a baby..." he said, more to himself than to Telia, and looked at the wall, not wanting to meet her eye. Very cautiously, the tigress unstrapped one of Matt's legs and slipped the plastic underwear up to his ankle, then locked it in place again, repeating the process with his other foot before pulling the crinkling, thick piece of synthetic material up and over his diaper. The elastic guards on the legs and waist hugged his form very snuggly, almost like they had been tailor made, but that wasn't the worst of his problems. Even as he watched, Telia slowly pulled the tiny chain links out of the waistband, almost like a pull-string on shorts, and pulled them so tight that the protective underwear, and the diaper beneath it, would be irremovable until the chain was loosened. Before Matt could see what she was about, and try to make her life difficult, the tigress pulled a nylon tie from her sleeve, weaved it through the links of the chain, and snapped it shut.
"N-NO! What are you doing?!" Matt hollered, struggling against his restraints with renewed vigor, but just as helplessly as before.
"Making sure you can't get out of this without my knowing," the tigress said with a wink, patting the thick plastic that now covered his thick padding, "you've shown that you can't be trusted to be a mature adult, so you're not going to be treated like one. Understand?" The words hurt like pins driven into the Shepard's skin, and he filled the entire room with his whining. "Besides," she said with a wink, ignoring his protests, "if you were a good boy, and stayed in your pull-ups like I told you to, you wouldn't be in this situation."
"It was an accident!" Matt said, struggling all the more fiercely, "I had to pee, and you took so long!"
"Oh, you're not being punished for your accident," Telia said, scratching under his chin, the Shepard fighting to get away from her paw, "you're being punished for taking your pull-off. It was your choice to disobey, but piddling on the floor you couldn't help."
"It would have leaked anyway!" Matt shouted back at her, edging onto a full tantrum again.
"Calm down," Telia said, stern as stone, and, with her usual feline speed and grace, withdrew a huge bulbed pacifier from her pocket and gagged the Shepard with the nipple, reducing his protests to garbles and keeping his jaws shut around it with her free paw. "No more big boy talk, Matt," she said to the sound of muffled cries and whimpering, "If this leaves your mouth without permission, I'll add the muzzle. Understand? Good boy, I'll let you take it out after your nap."
Matt in no way was about to submit to being pacified, and spat out the rubber nipple just as soon as her paw released his snout, "You're sick! You know that?" He shouted, kicking and screaming like the scolded toddler he was dressed as, "You're all sick in the head!"
Those were the last words Matt managed to say before the tigress pinned his head against the table, facing her, forced the leather straps of the head harness and muzzle over his face, and then tightened them each individually, making certain that no amount of pulling and scratching would get them free. The leather was reinforced with steel wire inside, so she wasn't afraid he'd be able to claw through it, but wasn't about to take any chances. "Do you think I enjoy doing this to you?" Telia said, looking the muzzled Shepard right in the eye, face a picture of fear and shame. She sighed, shaking her head, and picked the pacifier up off the table before forcing the bulb back between Matt's clenched jaw and strapping it into the harness, also, to the sound of Matt's pitiful squeaks. "I'm sorry, Matt, but you've given me no other choice."
It was in that moment, bound, muzzled, and diapered, that Matt learned what true terror was. Beyond struggling, he sat, trembling to the bones, otherwise immobile as the muzzle was fixed and tightened around his maw, and then the pacifier added after the fact. It was the greatest humiliation he had ever endured, that he could ever endure, and he knew it. This tigress was grind him down, slowly and meticulously reducing him to powerlessness, and he was determined, whatever it might take, to thwart her, but the fight was growing more hopeless by the minute. Even as he looked on, Telia returned to her bag of horrors, eventually coming back with a pair of something that looked like fingerless mittens with shackles on the ends.
Matt grumbled into his rubber nipple, and tried to jerk his paws out of her reach, but it was fruitless. Like a mother dressing a fussy cub, Telia bullied the Shepard’s paws into the mittens, easily a half inch of fabric and padding besides. They had thumbs, but they were more for decoration than to provide him any self-reliance. The canine wouldn’t be able to open a door with those on, let alone manipulate small objects, and, despite being fingerless on the outside, each of his fingers had a specific slot to go into within. Probably to keep him from wiggling them and tearing the fabric, he imagined.
“Can’t you see where this is going?” Telia said, making the still fussy puppy look at her once more, “every time you fight, I take something away from you. At this rate you’ll be a wailing infant by sundown.” She looked him right in the eyes, her gold against his blue, and said, very sternly, “Grow up.”
For some reason Matt would never be able to explain, and not for lack of trying, those words stung like hot metal. Grow up? Who was she? His mother? Matt had always been called childish, messy, lazy, immature, selfish, and easily frustrated. But that wasn’t anyone’s business but his. He was an adult, and could do as he liked, and if that meant never growing up, as Telia –among many others– liked to put it, so be it.
Ever the merciless pace-driver, Telia began unstrapping the now nullified Shepard from the table, and, for the first time, letting him get an idea of just how thick the diaper she had put him in really was. It wasn’t huge, exactly, Telia had seen vastly larger put on cubs, but, for his first ever time in padding since infancy, Matt was clearly struggling to adapt to the bulk. As soon as his mitted paws were free, Matt started groping at the plastic binder that was holding the chain closed, and the buckle on the back of his head harness. Telia watched him struggle in amusement, legs flailing in the air like a baby, no longer able to bring his knees together.
“Mmmmpphh! MMRRGGHH!” Matt growled through his gag at the tigress’s grinning face, thinking of how he would get his revenge for this outrage, but, as one might have expected, only managed to produce various grunts and whines more fit for a caged animal than a fully mature anthro.
"Uppy, puppy," Telia said, smirking and patting Matt on the belly, "you've got one more mess to clean up." Matt was acutely aware of his own, masculine scent filling the room, his accident having caused a sizable puddle of urine by the door, and shut his eyes, grumbling in humiliation as Telia helped him to his feet, inexplicably tired, and supported him as he got his balance.
The diaper wasn't very thick by caretaker standards, but, considering the Shepard wasn't used to anything thicker than silk boxers, Matt's padding kept his legs at shoulder width apart, and it took the better part of a minute for him to be able to stand on his own, legs spread, and waddle forward with big, childish steps, whimpering into his pacifier.
"There now, are you comfy?" Telia teased, patting the back of his padded posterior, then left the room for a moment, leaving the mitted and diapered puppy to waddle about and get his balance back, then returned with a roll of paper towel, wet sponge, and a small soapy bucket, which she left by his puddle.
Matt glared at her begging, face burning with rage, but ran headfirst into the brick wall that was her stubborn dominance, personified by the powerful glare she shot him, then, not willing to push his luck any further, dropped to his hands and knees and crawled over to his puddle, sensitive nose barely able to stand the stench, and did his best to grip the wet sponge in his mitted hand. Showing some forward thought, the mittens were plastic backed, much like his diaper, and didn't absorb water, for which he was grateful. Matt belatedly began mopping up his own pee with the sponge, hoping that Telia's threat of more baby food if he fussed meant he would be fed something reasonable if he obeyed, and realized somewhat happily that the cleanup wasn't particularly hard. The floor, shameful as the forethought was to the Shepard, was intended to make the cleanup of spills and leaks of various kinds as easy and painless as possible. Clearly Telia had more to do with his accident than she was letting on.
The dog continued scrubbing and wiping until there was no trace of his accident left, then wiped off his mittens with paper towel, looking up at the tigress for her approval. Telia seemed mollified, and nodded to him, "there's a good boy," she said, actually coming over and scratching him behind the ears, "see how much easier things are when you don't fight me?" Telia smiled, and helped him back to his feet, "you're going to need a bath later, but that can wait until after naptime. Puppies need their sleep, after all."
Matt's face, now settled into a permanent blush, nodded in acknowledgement. He smelt of his own pee, and a bath would be appreciated, especially if it meant getting out of these thick pampers again...
"Mmmmhmmm..." Matt said, most of his anger having abandoned him, and let the tigress take him by the paw and lead him over to the crib, then gently ease him inside. He crawled over to the messed up sheets, not picky about where he slept, but turned from content to concern as he watched her fiddle with the crib latch and bars.
"Ah, there we go," she said, grinning at him, and pulled the bars straight up with some apparent effort, latching them into place at the top. Matt stared at her through the bars solemnly, wrapping his mitted, useless paws around them, and whimpered. "Oh, I'm sorry buddy," Telia said with real sympathy in her voice, "You can barely stand on your own, and I wouldn't want you to fall out and hurt yourself," then did something he had never seen coming. She reached her hands through the bars, pulled his head gently over to her, then leaned in and kissed his forehead. Matt felt butterflies in his belly, simultaneously confused and concerned, and looked back up into her smiling eyes, "sleep well, puppy. I love you."
Telia turned and left the room, barring the nursery door as she did, and leaving Matt not sure what to think. The tumult of his thoughts was something totally new to him. Matt was a sure footed person, always knowing, at least in his own mind, right from wrong, good from bad, and what he deserved. But now, for the first time ever, really, he was conflicted, receiving such a basket of mixed signals from the tigress that he didn't even know where to begin. She was nice sometimes, and borderline evil at others. Even so, somehow they leveled out. And she had kissed him! Kissed him the way a loving mother kisses a four year old after they scrape their knee, and that had had a deep, powerful effect on him. Why? Why was this happening to him!?
Physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted, Matt abandoned his quest for answers, falling down onto the soft, cushioned mattress, and hit something he hadn't expected under the sheets, almost like a pillow. The Shepard perked up a bit, curiosity peaked, and pulled back the sheets, revealing a large, feral white fox plush. He flushed pink again instantly, knowing the resemblance to Talikin couldn't be a mistake, and crawled under the sheets himself, right next to the plush, willing to take any comfort offered to him at this point.
After a few minutes of trying to get comfortable, Matt gave up and hugged the plush, telling himself that it was just for the naptime, and that he didn't need any stupid plushies to sleep, but felt oddly cozy with it, almost the way he felt with Talikin, and subconsciously wrapped his legs around it, feeling comfortably sleepy all of a sudden, and couldn't keep the smile off his face as he drifted off to sleep.
"Thhawwikiww..." Matt murmured half consciously, ever the easy sleeper, and didn't even notice his tail subtly wagging as his mind clouded pleasantly, and he passed into a sleepy dream world, troubles forgotten.

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