An AB/DL Sonnet
Diapers, snoofing, love, bondage, probably really cute IDK I didn’t spend twelve hours on this this time so I feel better about this one

A sunset over evening air aloft
Brings hearty, chilly breeze.  Two furs, whose lives
Each other given freely, downy soft.
The former, gleaming fur coat dewy, thrives
From smiling lover, chains securely held.
The latter, doth embrace!  A gentle pat.
Reminder of control, still not quite quelled.
Blush!  Cries out!  Muted crinkle left by chat.
"Are you ready for our date today?"
Eyes forest green ask, smiling, coyly done.
"Did I really have to dress so risque?"
A smile the only recourse, night begun.
Though slowly growing shadows twinned yet so,
The light left soon for given ties below.

The glowing of lamps followed pair to stay
Uncertain, winding roads.  A secret, shared
Fast by those whose dance cross the martinet.
Arriving; pair's immodest shapes they bared.
So gently, softly, did hands leap, dance so,
Against the other, paused but naught but weight,
The heavy, dour diaper-cloths did grow.
Upon each other rest, lust not abate.
Love given, given spades, in sallow scent
Of stimulated bodies, incensed need,
Till gleaming crests on crescents, still yet bent
Euphoric from a primal dance of steed.
Tomorrow comes, with collar now replaced.
With snout first, latter's scented task now faced.

And on and on it goes, as frost makes way
For springtide airs and lighter weights, both from
Such weighty coats and bottoms yet, more play
Did one against the other.  Deep breaths.  Drum
Against that golden weight, so heady scent.
A fire dancing bright, laced gaudy frills
And supple crinkles sound throughout consent.
Soft azure eyes meet forest green.  The thrills
Continue on with binds of silk and gild
Or knees bent, so obeyed as one would pup
To master.  Given love and love distilled
Which after, bodies pressed as two doth sup
Discount wine, popcorn, show to laugh and wail
Upon the other's shoulder, taken grail.

Then summer comes, and comes with heat anew,
And public, slick displayed affection shown
And known but to pair, private acts eschew
But languid actions, understanding grown
No sorry state we find them, though their eyes 
Oft glisten, dewy, filled with naught but love
And gentle jokes aside.  In each arms dries
Despite the changing of many and more.  True love.
So ends this quiet song, with rings upon
Held paws, two clasped against each other, gold
Far more than padding, each eyes other bonne.
Hearts rising, church bells very brightly tolled.
"No stormy winds nor gloomy skies will break
Our love for each other.  Each neither forsake."

---

Empty Eyes
Diapers, kidnapping, bondage, sensory deprivation.  She is listening.

Footsteps approaching, then stop. Two pairs. One of which further back, the other one closer than the footsteps implied. Bending over? Probably.
"She... why is she blindfolded? I swear I saw her watch the videos, she shouldn't need–"
* "Yeah. I know. She shouldn't. It's not for her sake, though. It's for mine."
The first's voice is now further, closer to the other.
"What the hell do you mean with that? You've seen dozens of whores with a glassy stare, haven't you? Not one of them has survived more than a few rounds of the brainwashing. You mean she still has fight in her eyes or some shit like that?" The second's breathing paused for a moment. Silence for a moment longer.
"No.  She's just as glassed as the rest of them, and with where she's going her diaper's as filled as the rest of them. A doll, or a baby. No, that's not what I'm talking about."
The first voice is tinged with annoyance, rougher. Volume raised. "Then fucking spit it out. Why is she blindfolded?"
* "It's her... God how do I explain it? When I peered into her eyes, I saw nothing. Nothing but my own reflection. Like a fucking mirror. That girl's fucking cursed, I'm telling you."
"You... let me see."
Sight at last. Two males. Muscular. Bear. Wolf. Stock still. Silent. No more mobile as the other toys. Mimicking what they wanted. Not well enough. The bear takes a look and sneers.
"You're a goddamned lunatic, you know that?" Not towards me. He slaps my face. It stings. I do not respond.
"See? Nothing to worry about. Mirror or whatever, she's just as broken as the rest of them." 
Now, head forced back. Neck straining upwards. He stares into my eyes. He lets go. Back to position. He turns to face the wolf, voice more measured than before.
* "You can see what I'm talking about, right?"
"Yeah. Creepy as fuck. Throw her into the breaker for another hour. See if that fixes it."
* "She's already been in there long enough. Any longer and she won't be programmable."
"Try it anyways." Bear reapplies the blindfold. Back to darkness. He stands back up. "If she breaks, then it's fine. Some fuckups are expected. You wanted a toy for yourself, right?"
* A rueful laugh.  "Wouldn't want this one even if she was for sale."
Footsteps, again, and then silence once more.

Director Osva
Missus Osva is not, in fact, charge of HR.

[The following is an audio recording of a conversation of what sounds like a hallway.  Two voices are distinct from the rumble of wheels and white noise of a… hospital?  More than likely.]

The squeak of shoes, a heavy WHUMPH with every second pair of steps.
"Several patients’ files are missing, Director Osva."
* Do you mean the physical copies of the patients’ files?
"Yes, Ma'am."
* I see.  Why is that an issue?
"Director!  These patients are here voluntarily or have release dates."
* These ones?
“This wing is specifically for the patients who are here temporarily, yes.”
Why should we concern ourselves with such trivial matters as who these people are?
A screech of shoes.  A pause.
* You know, it would be easier to squirrel them away.  Not have to worry about ethics and the like.
"Director!  That.  Is.  Illegal!"
A sigh and a squeak from a heavy paw on the back.
* You are far too uptight, doctor. The digital copies are backed up nightly; cross reference the pertinent rooms and reprint the files as necessary. When the files turn up, perhaps the offending party will find their identity... just as misplaced.
"Director!"
The laugh echoes unnaturally through the walls.  The sounds of wheels and shoes hurry away from the immediate area.  The WHUMPHs return and shortly after the tapping of shoes to hurry after it, leaving the place quieter than when the recording began.

Doctor Osva
You know, it’s odd that she’s both a doctor and the director.  Is there some kind of rule against this?
Also, who’s turning off specific functions of the security cameras?

[The following events come from a security camera in an examination room.  Unfortunately, audio data was not recorded; the entire visit is dead silent, though one can imagine what is said during this visit.
The area is sterile and clean with an exam chair in the center, a changing table against a wall, various medical supplies opposite, completed a desk chair and computer.  Posters sit neatly against the visible walls as a patient is brought in via wheelchair, visibly displeased, dressed only in a hospital gown.
From here, one can surmise that the patient is some form of canine; as with most security cameras the visual is of a lower resolution than one would normally expect of a video.  Two aides wheel them in, with the kangaroo doctor hopping close behind, who settles into the chair with a swivel.  Adjusting their labcoat they log into the computer, logging on and assumedly pulling up the relevant files before turning to the patient.
The patient, visibly agitated and shouting obscenities as they are strapped into the exam chair, find their thrashing arms and legs each bound by cuffs in turn before their chest and forehead followed suit.
The doctor spins fully around twice on the chair before stopping squarely to the front-right side of the patient.  She then speaks; though the words are not audible, she is very gestural, a thin smile paired with a clipboard, writing down notes as the patient struggles, occasionally pointing the pen at her charge before turning to the aides and nodding.
The aides leave offscreen, and the doctor strips her labcoat off.  Pants follow suit, revealing a bulky diaper around her waist as she leaves them both on the floor.  Her patient’s struggles start anew, glaring daggers at her as she rolls to the entrance to the room, dimming the lights before adjusting a helmet onto herself from the shelf.  With the shell properly set, she presses a few keys on the computer.
In the dim lighting, the glow from a monitor of some sort, not visible from the camera angle, springs to life.  The brightness changes rapidly at first before settling down into a rhythm of bright to dim and back again.  As the rhythm begins proper, the patient's struggles slowly die down.  Their eyes are inadvertently drawn to the screen despite their best efforts to the contrary.  No amount of squeezing them shut appeared to affect the end result.  The doctor watches with interest, continuing to speak to the patient though they no longer seemed to respond.
Unmoving, their breath steady.  Mouth hanging open, slack-jawed. Tranquil, unlike the commotion they caused just minutes before.  The doctor, satisfied with the result, unstraps the belt restraints one at a time.
With surprising ease, they lift up the fur and carry them to the changing table where a diaper is applied to the patient whose mouth is filled and closed around a pacifier tied around their head.  The change complete, the doctor hops to the entrance, turning the lights back to normal as the aides return with a straitjacket and the wheelchair.  In short order, they restrain the patient, wrapping their arms around themselves complete with a strap around the newly applied diaper.  Completing the outfit is a spreader bar, forcing the fur’s legs into a comfortable distance apart and ensuring limited movement.
The doctor speaks to them; they finally respond with a dopey nod, bouncing on the changing table, perking up as the doctor lifts a vibrating wand out of her pouch.  The aides shift around uncomfortably, but do nothing to stop the doctor from applying said wand against where the patient's genitals would be for about a minute before repouching the wand and nodding to the aides once more.  The patient re-restrained into the wheelchair, is wheeled out.  After the doctor puts her labcoat and pants back on, she hops out with a wave to the camera before leaving the security camera to capture nothing once more.]

Mother Osva
The wife of the Good Doctor… Director?  Bah.
Religious connotations, as opposed to scientific.

"Mother Osva?"
I am here for you, little flower. What do you need from me?
"I feel conflicted.  I know the Shepherd loves me, but..."
You do not feel it, do you?  You do not feel the light that She brings?
"I... yes.  I am sorry."
You do not need to apologize, little flower.  Walk with me.

Let me tell you of a story from the scriptures.
Sen Lambrana had one of her flock who asked the same question.

* "The winds are strong tonight, and the storm batters at our homes.  Is a God angry at us?"
"One might."  She replies.  “Or perhaps they are angry at a nearby settlement, and we find ourselves caught in their ire.  However.  Has the storm taken our village yet?"
* "No, Mother Lambrana."
"They stand, and they will stand, because I protect them as I do you.  The winds and the waves may fight to sweep us away, but my live for you all is stronger than any other God ever could."
May her embrace show the way.

Can you can tell me of a similar situation in your life?  I am sure there has been a recent event where her love has blessed you.
"I... I guess I was having doubts about passing my History test, and I prayed to her.  I had almost full marks. Does... does that count?"
It does, little flower.  Her love manifests in many ways, and seeking them out affirms to you that she loves you.  Now off you go, I've kept you here long enough.  Unless you wish for Mother Osva to change you!
"Er, I-  how did you know?  I’m sorry, I didn’t notice-"
Do not apologize little flower, I have my ways.  Did you find your walk through the garden nice?

Winter’s End
Some lighter fare before we close off the set.

…
I find myself gently tugging the leash back a bit firmer, this time.  Puppy was rather excited; Winter's grip on the streets had relaxed, and that meant more regular walks.  It meant he was far more excited than normal, dragging me through the familiar streets.  I'm abruptly pulled to the left and let out a theatric sigh.
"Slow down puppy, you're threatening to yank me off my feet.  I know you want to go to the Cafe really, really badly, but I don't think they'll allow you in without your owner in tow."
A yip from in front of me gave me little confidence in either direction, though after a moment I was able to return to my normal pace.
Click.  Click.  Tang.
The metal piece over the runoff let me know exactly where we were.  Just a crosswalk away.
I smelled the place before I heard it.  The Cafe had a distinct aroma to it; the spiced pastries and teas alike meant I was a regular visitor, and Puppy's friends were there too so he was more than fond of begging to go every chance he could.
It was adorable, and it's part of why I married him.
Well, that, and he makes the best salads.
"Good evening Cecily!  Glad to see you back.  Hope the weather's been treating you well."
"Thank you, Kir," I reply, pushing the leash's return button and using my off paw to unclasp the collar off of Puppy.
"Cinnamon chai, light on the milk?"  Kir asks.  Puppy helps me out of my jacket and into our regular spot.  He sits next to me and I give his head a scritch.
"You ask like I don't have that every time."  I laugh, and Puppy joins in his adorable little way.
I feel his snout against my leg as the sound of the kettle fills my teacup.
I remove my right shoe and press up against Puppy’s crotch with my footpaw.  He was in the middle of wetting himself.
Another of my theatric sighs.  "Yes you may, you've been a good boy."
Kir's nonslip shoes alert me before the plate *tinks* against the table.  "Your tea, madam, and a croissant for the good dog."
Ah, the only thing that could possibly stop Puppy from humping my leg in those sodden diapers of his.
"So, how's it been, cooped up all winter?" There weren't any other patrons in this part of the store; Kir had pulled up a chair nearby judging by the squeak.
"You know.  Keeping Puppy from ruining every plushie he has, more diaper changes than a daycare."
It was his turn to laugh.  I take a sip of my chai.  Tea is great as always.
"And is he still on his... you know..."
"Vow of silence?"
"Yeah, that."
I feel Puppy move from under me, sniffing around.  I gently nudge him; the crumbs aren't worth it.
"He's had no need to.  I’m fascinated that he’s kept it up for this long, I suppose he wanted me to feel like I wasn't alone."  I take off my glasses and rub my eyes.
"He's a very good boy, isn't he?  Isn't he?  Look, he's wagging his tail like he knows it, don’t you, boy?"
“I can feel it.”
“Oh, right.  Sorry.”
"No need to apologize.  He's made my life much easier by being my eyes, and I make sure he knows it."
I feel him sniffing at my free paw.  Two taps and he runs off to the back, where the muted sounds of his friends get louder for just a moment before the door shuts behind him.
"That's good, then."
The tea tasted so sweet after a winter without it.
...