A Rabbit Tale: Chapter X [Comm] (Patreon)

Chapter X

Four months had passed since Annie had been hired by Marisa as their regular babysitter, and Fievel’s continuous regression had not ebbed even the slightest. The plastic, custom designed, and significantly sized up potty that had been placed in their bathroom was now packed away in the closet. While they had tried to coax the rabbit into attempting to use it, the closest he had managed to accomplish such a feat was depositing his crinkly behind down on the seat, only to then proceed to fill his diapers while exclaiming proudly that he had used the ‘big boy potty.’ Marisa saw quickly that there would hardly be any point, especially due to the fact that Fievel often found himself wearing locking plastic pants to prevent him from getting too pawsy with the cage inside of his diaper. 

There had been two strokes of good fortune, however, in their financial situation. Due to the unusual nature of Fievel’s mental decline, and with a doctor’s note, the rabbit was now on permanent severance pay. It allotted to a little more than he earned on average during the month, which pleased Marisa greatly as it meant that he was able to cover all of the baby supplies necessary to take care of him and then some. That, and Marisa’s work had deemed her quite adept at what she did, and she had been promoted to a salary almost double of the one she had started at. Oddly enough, the two were now making more money than ever before, and Annie was given a pay bump as well as thanks for staying the night on occasion when Marisa needed an evening to herself. 

Their financial worries now over, Marisa had been considering whether reaching out to more specialized psychiatrists and psychologists should be the path she takes in addressing her rabbit’s condition. He was happy, she knew he was happy because every time he saw her he would reach his paws up asking her through the pacifier in his muzzle for her to pick him up. She loved this, and now having become used to having an oversized baby as a husband had begun to find the routine of changing his diapers, feeding him, and keeping his behavior in check an overall rewarding experience. 

Beyond spooning mashed apple into her husband’s hungry muzzle, she had one particular activity that never ceased to deliver a profound sense of satisfaction. Given the recent increase in their wealth, she had indulged in him buying whatever stuffed animal he wanted when they were browsing the internet on the couch together. She had loved watching his eyes light up as she bought them for him, giving her the happiness she had wanted with an actual rabbit kitten. They had arrived in short order, and the mischief her husband got into with them was worth every penny.

His cage would now rarely come off, little more than once a month. This would build up an immense amount of frustration in the rabbit, who appeared not only to have retained his adult libido but now was even hornier than he was before. He would take a stuffed wolf, or perhaps an oversized polar bear, and position his drooping sight right on top of them. Regardless of the contents of his diapers, in fact the messier the better, Marisa observed, he would begin to hump his stuffed animals with gusto. He would whimper, whine loudly through his pacifier, and overall show no sense of self-consciousness as he expressed what affection he could through his padding and cage to the stuffed animal. 

Annie found it somewhat amusing, and after clearing it with Marisa would allow him to engage in such activities without intervention. What the female rabbit did not share with the otter was that she enjoyed observing this activity almost as much as Fievel enjoyed performing it. No longer was her husband able to get himself off through the help of her body, other than straining in his cage when she was breastfeeding him in the evenings. The only semblance of satisfaction he was able to accomplish was humping away at his plushies until he exhausted himself, falling forwards onto the plush and as his chest heaved. 

On a Saturday afternoon, Marisa was lounging on the couch and watching exactly such a spectacle. 

“Go on sweetie, show that polar bear just how much you love those soggy pampers of yours.”

He encouraged, to which Fievel was only able to respond with a muffled grunt. 

“Mmph!”

He moaned, a thin line of drool descending down from his pacifier guard as his eyes remained scrunched with concentration and effort. He wore only an unbuttoned onesie, a point of enticement that Marisa had intentionally left open so she could watch her husband try pathetically to work out his frustration. The buckles on his mittens clinked as he tried to adjust a poor grip on the polar bear’s head, his hips gyrating forwards and backwards as he humped against his cage. He had been wetting all morning, drizzling continuously into the front of his swelling diapers which now served as the perfect medium to feel almost nothing against due to his caged member. 

“Hhmp… Fff… Bwuh…”

His speech was gradually progressing into nonsensical babbling, although he was still able to express very simple sentiments. Speech appeared to be rather taxing on the poor rabbit, and now he often expressed his desires mostly through whines and looks of intention. 

“Is somebody feeling a little pent up this afternoon?”

Marisa cooed, swirling the glass of wine she clutched in one paw as she beheld her husband making an infantilized fool of himself. He nodded jerkily, his ears flopping forward as he continued to pant. The padding between his legs squished and crinkled obnoxiously, announcing to the empty room that he was too busy humping his diapers to have thoughts on anything else. 

“Oh what a pity your little carrot can’t even feel those squishy diapers of yours.”

Marisa continued, whose words only appeared to cause the rabbit to redouble his efforts. She herself was feeling a little hot and bothered, but allowing herself to only watch and not intervene was the pinnacle of the pleasurable experience. She would come home from work to see that her husband was as frustrated with his own affairs as she was with her own. Keeping him on a short, sensual leash had become her favorite form of entertainment, and knowing that her husband could not possibly work his way out of it was even more pleasurable. Even without the mittens, her husband had no hope of removing his cage. He was in a constant state of frustration, which would always end with him getting up on shaky legs, waddling over to her, and telling her through lisping words that he needed a ‘diapew change.’

Marisa rose from the couch, walking forward towards his playpen before leaning down over the rail to inspect her husband’s padding. She extended a paw forward, pushing it beneath his padding between him and the large stuffed animal and giving it a deliberate squeeze. Fievel moaned in response, his head tilting backwards as he closed his eyes. Marisa commented, her voice light and airy as she teased her husband. 

“I think my little bunny has a soggy pamper between his legs! Oh, whatever shall we do about it?”

As if in a cue, Fievel leaned forward slightly. He grew red in the face, his breath coming out in sharp, short bursts before he finally let out a muffled noise of relief. Into the back seat of his diaper, Marisa could hear the plastic crackling as he deposited his mess into his waiting diaper. Accompanied by muffling flatulence and the wet sound of the formula and baby food based diet that was constantly going through him, the adult rabbit had just helplessly fudged his huggies right in front of her. 

“What a good little baby boy I have.”

She crooned, setting her glass of wine aside on the coffee table before returning her attention to the rabbit. She reached down, clasping him underneath the armpits before lifting him up into her arms. Practice of such a maneuver had given the female rabbit considerable upper body strength, for no longer did she find it difficult to pick her husband up and deposit his messy rear onto her hip with a muffled squish. Fievel leaned his head down into the crook between her neck and shoulder, nuzzling her affectionately as he closed his eyes. 

Given his diet, dealing with his messy diapers was not as much of an olfactory ordeal as it might have been otherwise. It was messy, sure, but eating only vegetables and fruits made the scent a relatively doable challenge. In fact, she found it rather endearing, seeing her husband lying flat and exposed on the changing table with a strap over his chest, and unable to do anything about his used diapers until she or Annie gave him the care he needed. Sometimes she would leave him on the changing table for a minute, if only to hear him whining and crying for her to return and wipe his bottom. 

She knew he was grateful to her, and the helpless need for her attention gave Marisa a 

deep-seated sense of satisfaction. Off she whisked him over to the guest room, which had now been converted into his nursery. Full of his plushies, baby clothes, a large stock of diapers, and a few other choice items to keep his discipline in check, Fievel now knew little else than the sensation of sitting around in diapers that usually needed changing every few hours or so.