Chapter Twenty
Kris helps me out of my shorts and underwear, setting them aside before he starts wiping my thighs and crotch with a tenderness that sets my teeth on edge.
I’m almost convinced that this is a fever dream or a mirage.
In what universe am I so lucky that the best Daddy I’ve ever played with suddenly appears when I need a Daddy most?
This one, apparently.
I’ve never felt this little before. I don’t even know how it happened. I mean, obviously, the unexpected accident made me feel very small and embarrassed, but I’ve never just regressed without planning on it, and I have never been this little.
Was the Middle at camp right? Have I been fooling myself this whole time by calling myself more Middle than Little? Is my penchant for bratting and deliberately wetting a sign that this is who I really am?
“Let’s get you up on the change table, sweetheart,” Kris’s voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts, gentle but leaving no room for misinterpretation. Then he pauses and checks, “Traffic light?”
“Green.” The answer comes easily.
I’ll have my existential crisis later. For now, I’m going to go with the flow and let this too-good-for-me Daddy take care of me.
I climb the three steps built into the side of the table and lay back on its plastic-covered padded surface as I’m instructed, biting my lip when Kris asks me to plant my feet and raise my hips.
I feel so exposed like this. Exposed and silly.
My cheeks heat when Kris tells me to drop my butt back down and the distinct feeling of a diaper meets my bare ass cheeks. The knowledge that I’m being diapered because I lost control without any sort of warning makes me cringe.
I’m not a little Little. Potty accidents only happen when I decide I’m okay with it.
The pile of wet clothes on the floor says otherwise, my snarky inner voice reminds me.
I can’t even argue with it.
“You don’t have to use this, honey,” Kris reminds me as he closes the sticky tabs over my hips.
“But it’s there as protection in case you do stay this deeply regressed for a while longer.
” He lets that sink in, then meets my gaze, adding, “And there’s nothing wrong with using it in either case, okay?
Daddy’s here now, and I’ll change you if you need it. ”
Jesus.
It’s like my heart has decided to sprint.
Daddy’s here now.
The gently spoken words are perfect, but they make my stomach turn.
He’s not my Daddy. He’s too good to be my Daddy. I proved that by leaving the camp —and leaving him— without so much as a goodbye.
He deserves a Boy who would have at least said goodbye. He deserves a Boy who knows exactly who they are and how their regressions work. He deserves a Boy who doesn’t push peoples’ buttons in self-preservation.
He deserves a Boy who isn’t as fucked up as me.
Besides, I’ve never had a long-term Daddy and I wasn’t looking for one. I’m still not. I’m not good enough to keep one. He’d get bored of me or annoyed with me eventually. Most people do.
Hell, no matter what he says, I’m sure Anson and Bear and Ash would rather I just fuck off, too.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Benji, what’s wrong?”
Kris’s concern shakes me back out of my thoughts at the same moment his big, warm palm cups my cheek and his thumb smooths moisture away from my temple.
Wait.
Moisture?
Blinking, it takes longer than it should for me to realize that I’m crying.
“Honey, talk to me.” He’s moved to the side of the table, his face peering down at mine with an expression that matches his tone, with dark eyebrows pinched over narrowed eyes, and his lips pursed. His free hand slides into my hair, stroking softly. “Is the diaper too much after all?”
“No,” I croak, shaking my head.
His face runs through a complicated set of micro expressions before he cautiously asks, “Was it me calling myself Daddy? Because you don’t have to—”
“You’re the best Daddy,” I blurt, wanting to reassure him. I feel like it would have worked, too, if I didn’t also start sobbing.
What is going on with me?
“Okay, okay, come here.” Kris eases me up into a seated position and then pulls me against his chest in another strong Daddy hug.
He doesn’t shush me, just holds me as I bawl against him, smoothing his hands up and down my back until I finally start to calm down.
I don’t know how long it takes, but when my breathing slows to slight shudders, he murmurs, “Feel better now?”
It almost sets me off again.
However, I do feel lighter after that emotional purge, so I nod. “Sorry.” The words comes out with ‘w’s instead of ‘r’s. Some distant part of me knows that’s unusual.
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He waits a beat. “Are you feeling up to talking about it?”
If anything, I feel even more little than I did before, so I shake my head.
Words are harder to form now. My head feels like it’s full of cotton, but in a floaty way.
It’s strange, but nice. Like everything that was making me sad or worried is muted, smothered under the marshmallow fluff that has taken over my brain.
“Hmm, nuh-uh,” I tell him. “Words…bad.”
“I see,” he chuckles. “That’s okay, we can talk later. Let’s get your shorts on now.”
After I climb down from the change table, Kris helps me step into the clean shorts one leg at a time.
They’re a couple of sizes larger than my usual, but with a short inseam, so they probably don’t look too ridiculous as they hang loosely around my hips.
It’s not something I’m worried about now, but once my adult headspace re-engages, I’ll probably cringe anyway.
Moving around in the new shorts feels weird, though.
But then I realize it isn’t the shorts, it’s the diaper.
The way the leak guards and cuffs sit around the spaces where my legs join my body makes me widen my gate a bit for comfort’s sake, and the diaper itself feels clunky.
Even with the looseness of the shorts, it’s probably very obvious that I’m wearing the padded protection.
Weirdly, that makes me feel smaller. More vulnerable. Littler.
I…don’t hate it. At least, not this time.
In fact, after not making it to the potty in time earlier, I’m kind of glad that I’m wearing it.
Or maybe it’s the fuzzy memories of the last time I wore a diaper for Kris making this seem more palatable. Because I really liked that experience.
“Okay,” Kris says, once again cutting into my thoughts, and I turn to find him holding a plastic bag tied off and knotted at the handles.
It’s sagging heavily, and I assume that while I’ve been musing on the new-ish sensation of wearing a diaper, he’s been tidying up my wet clothes.
“We’re all cleaned up now. Good job, honey. ”
Somewhere at the back of my brain, I know I haven’t done a damn thing to make this process easier for him, but his words make me grin at him. “Yay!”
His expression goes all mushy, like the way Drake looks at Anson, or Vince looks at Bear.
I tingle all over, not sure any Daddy has ever looked at me this way before.
Oblivious, Kris says, “So now it’s up to you what we do next.
Want to go play with the guys” —I tense up, but he continues calmly— “or go to one of the quiet rooms for a cuddle and story time?”
My heart speeds up again. I’ve always been too Big and too bratty for something like that.
In fact, even when I have been Little —and never quite this Little— I’ve really only played with Daddies in a sexy sort of way, with maybe a little bit of cuddling as aftercare as I come out of headspace.
I’ve never done anything as intimate as snuggling up in someone’s lap and having them read me a book.
But is Kris only asking me out of obligation? He’s already spent so much of his evening with me cleaning up my mess and literally listening to me cry. He’s got to be fed up with me by now. I haven’t been any fun at all.
“I can play,” I manage to answer after what was probably too long a pause.
“Benjamin,” Kris pulls out the Daddy voice that makes me shiver, then looks me in the eye for good measure. “I didn’t ask what you can do, I asked what you want to do.”
I remember how nice it was to snuggle up and watch cartoons together back at camp, and I realize that I want to be selfish.
I’ve already been a pain and way too much work for him tonight, so I doubt he will want to be my Daddy for a scene ever again.
I might as well take this chance while I can get it.
Swallowing, I answer, “Cuddle.”
His eyes light up and his smile seems to make the whole room feel happier.
He’s a very good actor.
The thought has me swallowing back a bitter lump from my throat.
Oblivious, Kris squeezes my hand and tugs me towards the bathroom door. “Let’s go find one of the quiet spaces, then, shall we?”
If this is going to be my last chance with him, I might as well go all in.
“Yes, Daddy.”