Cynthia Stinks, Part Three (Final)

This was written as part of a collaboration with PoofyLoog, who did the illustration you can see here! Poofy does lots of fun hypermessing art, so you should check out his twitter! Go give him a shoutout, and a thank you for helping this story come into existence!

Contains: Furries, Messing, Magic, Hyper content

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“Hnng–” Jake grunted, struggling to drag himself across the floor, arm extended fully to paw at the box a few feet away.

He couldn’t. Even straining as hard as he could, the box sat just out of reach. It held his last diaper, the last reserve to keep him from just laying in his own puddle, and no matter how much he stretched his arms, he just couldn’t reach.

The whole apartment stank so badly he’d almost lost all sense of smell. Jake’s whole world was mush and sag and dirty diaper smell, drifting up through his nostrils into his brain, rendering him unable to think about anything except how utterly and fully he’d ruined the layers upon layers of diapers he had on.

Surely the magic had to be ready to buckle by now, with this much weight straining beneath squelching padding and a tenuous film of enchantment, but if it was close to failure, he had no way of knowing.

And then he heard his door handle jiggle.

Cynthia knew which rock outside was a plastic fake with his spare key in it, so it had to be her. She’d finally come to the rescue, after waiting almost twelve hours and forcing him to spend the night in a packed-full diaper.

The skunk waltzed in, looking down on him with a wicked grin. She’d put on a pink miniskirt and knee-high boots, and from Jake’s vantage on the ground, looking up at her, he could see she’d foregone wearing panties.

Shutting the door, she leered down at him. “Aww, what do we have here?”

“Help,” he whimpered. “I’m…I’m stuck.”

“Aww,” she cooed, circling around him, planting her boot on the mass of his diaper and pushing down, making it squelch against him. He let out a helpless groan, and she giggled. “I know what happened–you wanted to see if you could stink as badly as me, didn’t you?”

“No…” He shook his head, and Cynthia’s smile turned even more hostile.

“If you want my help, then say it,” she demanded.

“I…” he started, knowing she wasn’t kidding around. Cynthia wasn’t about to let this die, not while she had him helpless and ripe for humiliation. “I wanted to see if I could stink as badly as you…”

“Where’d you get the dump truck?” she snickered, walking over to examine the papers on his coffee table, where he’d written out the spell that’d gone all wrong. “Or, well in your case, probably two dump trucks–I’ve never seen a pamper packer quite as enthusiastic as you.”

Lying on his back, Jake’s blush deepend. “It’s the spell!” he whimpered.

She just nodded, thumbing through his notes. “Uh-huh. And you’re not just trying new and innovative ways to peel your wallpaper? Because I’m pretty sure that’s a certified biohazard that you’ve mushed together.”

“H-hey,” he protested. “It’s just a stupid spell that went wrong!”

“Just a spell?” she asked, looking over at him. “Did the spell make you put on your diaper, stinky? Did it force you to squat down and push a huge, smelly load into it? Or did you want to do that, and the spell made it so you couldn’t pretend otherwise?”

“Um–” he started.

“Don’t worry,” she explained, holding up the papers. “I know how to undo this.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Thank–”

“But first, I think a little demonstration is in order,” she said, standing up again. “Because you need to understand one thing, baby boy–you’ll never be able to stink as good as me.”

Jake swallowed. He didn’t like where this was going, not one bit–not as she walked over to the almost empty package of diapers, not as she took it out, not as she produced a sharpie from her purse and began scrawling a note on the front in her floral, swoopy handwriting.

“Hold on,” he said, shaking his head. “Come on, Cynthia–just let me out, okay?”

She laid down next to him to pull the diaper up beneath her skirt, taping it around her black-and-white tail and getting it snug and secure. “What, and lose out on this opportunity to prove that I’m better than you?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, then–I mean, no? But–”

She laughed, moving to stand over Jake. “Trust me–no matter how foul you smell right now, I’ll always be stronger, better, and smellier, and I don’t even have to try.”

Jake tried to wriggle away, but the sheer weight of his diaper had him immobile. He tried to shield his face with his hands, but Cynthia pushed them aside, squatted down, and knelt so that his arms were pinned under her legs and her diaper was settled right on the front of his snout, her skirt draped over his face so that he had nothing in his field of vision save for her diaper.

Crossing his eyes, Jake could make out the writing on the front of the padding, all in swoops and curls. ‘This mess is the property of Cynthia, Queen of Stink’.

He swallowed, and sucked in a breath, and then heard Cynthia groan with satisfaction as she began to push.

Her diaper didn’t swell as impressively as his, but given the circumstances, it barely needed to. The padding swelled right around his snout, filling out as it swelled. And Cynthia was right–even desensitized to the constant fumes from his own mess, her own accident was an order of magnitude worse.

Jake moaned, his whole reality taken up by Cynthia’s putrid diaper smushing out over his face. He felt her rock forward, grinding the front of the diaper against his nose, accosting him with the smell and the mush while she in turn moaned with satisfaction.

Head reeling, Jake fought to free his hands, and Cynthia moved her legs to let him. Instead of trying to push her free, though, he pawed for his own diaper, trying and failing to reach down and rub against the front. With so much squelching, swollen padding around him, there was no way that the bulge from his erection could be visible, but he felt it all the same and desperately wanted to push against it for satisfaction.

From where he lay, though, without leverage, he just couldn’t reach, and had to simply thrust into the squelching padding while Cynthia ground against his face, burning out his nostrils from the stink of her diaper. The frustration he felt was all encompassing, the desire to stop pretending and just love his devastated pile of diapers frustrated by his physical immobility.

Finally, ultimately, Cynthia groaned and her body shuddered, sinking her weight onto his snout for just a little longer. Sensing she was about to get up, he took one last desperate sniff, an action that the skunk very acutely noticed.

“See?” she asked, rolling off him. “You do love it, don’t you?”

He nodded. He couldn’t pretend any longer.

“Say it,” she demanded, grinning down at him. “Say it, and I’ll give you what you want.”

“I love how much you stink,” he whimpered. “I love how much I’ve used my diaper.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, rolling onto her back. “And you wish you could stink as bad as me?”

“And I wish I could stink as bad as you,” he repeated.

Reaching into the box that his diapers had shipped in, Cynthia took out the pack of wipes, pulling up her skirt. “Well, I’ve got good news for you–and a little reward for being so honest.”

“Hmm?” he asked, while she undid the tapes on her diaper and began to clean herself up.

“Just this once, I think you can live the fantasy,” she said, going to town with the wipes.

Roughly cleaned, she balled up the diaper, so that the message on the front was still clearly visible. Taking that diaper, she got up onto her knees and set it down. “Roll over,” she instructed.

He shook his head. “I can’t.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed her hands under his back, straining slightly to flip him onto his belly. The mass of his diaper flopped down, and he found himself half-crouching, on hands and knees, all that weight between his thighs.

Then, Cynthia pulled on the back waistband of his diaper and, with a giggle, shoved her own bulging bundle down the back.

“There,” she said. “Just pretend that came from you.”

He groaned, he couldn’t help it. Wriggling his hips, he thrust into his diaper. On all fours, he had leverage, and enough bulk to get friction and pleasure. Just one thrust had him moaning, and by the second, he knew he’d never had it this good before.

“There,” Cynthia purred, condescension in her tone as she watched him. Her hand drifted down, pressing into the front of Jake’s diaper, giving him something to thrust against. “Just enjoy it, stinker.”

It took him only two more thrusts to get satisfaction, and then he groaned, spurting into his diaper harder than he ever had in his life. The padding was so swollen that it couldn’t take more liquid, and he felt it trickle on his thighs, the mind-shattering climax making his knees buckle so that he sank into the weight of the diaper.

And then, a second later, that weight vanished.

Not completely–he still felt the bulk of diapers around his waist, but they were clean, and fresh, and the pounds upon pounds of mass that he’d packed into them was gone.

Exhausted, exhilarated, he rolled onto his back, panting for breath.

“Good news and bad news time,” Cynthia said, smirking down at him. “That enchantment you made, it’s got enough energy to last a good year or so–so you’d better get used to wearing around your toilet.” Reaching down, she patted the front of his layered diapers, the beach-ball sized bulk of absorbent material he’d spent the last two days taping himself in. Just the slight touch made him shudder, the post-coital sensitivity intense and unavoidable. “And, well–there’s not much to do about the way you made yourself hypercontinent. Regular accidents, those are going to keep going.”

Sweaty and satisfied, he barely cared. “What’s the good news?”

“Now you know how to clean up, silly,” she teased. “And, since you seem to really enjoy it, it shouldn’t take you long. Just a couple thrusts in your fudgy huggies and you’ll be all better.”

Jake reeled. He’d be stuck like this for an eternity, and the only way to mitigate it was… well…

He could think of worse fates to be stuck with.

Sitting up, he looked down at the diaper. One thing had changed–when the diapers had self-cleaned, they’d also rearranged themselves, fixing up the sagging or torn tapes, unstretching the worn plastic, and generally making it all tidy and nice. And, the twelfth diaper–the one Cynthia had signed, was on the outside, her signature plain as day.

Wrapped up in those diapers, the label of ‘This mess’ applied to him more than to the diaper’s contents. He couldn’t deny it.

“This mess is the property of Cynthia, Queen of Stink”.