Young Maxwell Fenrisian, or just Max for short, was a friendly, easy going pup. He had warm grey fur, and amber eyes. He was quite the goofball, but was smooth and charismatic for a lad his age.
Currently, the four year old puppy was playing hide and seek with his friends. He had been feeling off for a fair while today, but couldn't quite put his thumb on it. As he crouched down beneath the slide, shaded by the twisting plastic, he got his answer.
Before he could put paw to Pull-Up and cotton, he felt the funny feeling in his gut subside, and a large warm growth expand the back of his Pull-Up.
You see, Max had one big secret. Unlike most of his peers, he wasn't fully trained. He could use the toilet at home no problemo, but when out and about, especially when his mom wasn't around, he'd clog up upon seeing a toilet, and later end up filling his pants at the worst, hence the Pull-Up, JUST in case, or having to "go" in an unorthodox place at best.
He groaned as he finished up, slowly getting up. He could go and try to grab one of the spares he had stashed around the preschool and go change, wait to be checked when they were going back in and get changed, or dispose of his used training pants and go commando for the time being. He could play off the smell. He....
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