Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Theo
Damn it, Jordan.
I kept my speech short and sweet, hopping off the table as fast as I could.
That bastard knew I hated being the center of attention and I was going to murder him the first chance I got.
This wasn’t exactly how I planned to tell Shea that I was the one who founded Playhouse.
I’d checked his sign-up forms—he’d found the camp online, which meant that unlike the other campers, he’d likely never been to Playhouse.
The campers dispersed after the welcome meeting, some helping themselves to food while others took to the field, the lake, or other activities.
I didn’t see Shea for the rest of the evening, and that was… fine.
Okay, that was a lie—it totally wasn’t fine.
I wanted to track him down, confine him to my bed for the week, and demand to know what he’d been up to for the last nine years.
God, I’d spent so long searching for him.
Now I know why I couldn’t find any trace of him, especially after he turned eighteen.
His parents never liked me. Shea and I became fast friends and considering the leisurely way I was brought up, their tyrannic approach to parenting didn’t sit well with me.
I would bring him changes of clothes, hair ties, and even makeup remover to scrub away the mask they forced him to wear every day.
l. If Shea was with me, he was going to be the person he truly was, not some dolled-up version of his mother living vicariously through him—and they hated it.
I was too sloppy, too masculine and way too much of a bad influence.
Unfortunately for them, it didn’t scare me away.
The confidence that poured from him when he was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, with his hair tied away from his face and able to express himself in his true form was intoxicating, and I fell quickly—and hard.
Naturally, being horny teenagers and all, things heated up quickly, which made us sloppy. Neither of us heard Shea’s parents come home early, or the door open. We were caught with my hands in the cookie jar—literally.
They moved a month later, and I hadn’t seen Shea again.
Until now.
And man, how he had grown. If I thought tomboy Shea was confident, that person had nothing on him now.
What I’d seen was only a glimpse of the man beneath, and I couldn’t be happier that he’d finally found his true self, had finally broken free of the prison he’d been living in.
Only, what had he been up to? Had he been in Georgia that whole time?
Or was he still in that small town in Kentucky that was like something out of a southern TV drama?
I had so many questions, but I couldn’t bombard Shea with them, not until he was ready.
So, I busied myself with other boring admin tasks that evening—checking in with the other caregivers, running over the allergy plans again, and generally finding anything and everything to keep me from gluing myself to the poor guy’s side.
I’d seen him sitting with Tyler at the meeting, who was a VIP member of the Playhouse and had been for quite a few years.
He was a good friend for Shea to latch onto.
They’d never match romantically, but it was nice that Shea had someone in his corner, considering he was one of the few campers who didn’t know anyone.
I’d have known if he’d been to Playhouse, right?
By the time the sun set, I was utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally.
It had been a long week of preparations, and the discovery of my one who got away sent me into an emotional tailspin.
Confident that Jordan and Kaylee could handle any problems that came up, I took myself to bed early.
Best part of being an adult if you ask me.
The private cabins were quite a bit smaller than the others, for all the right reasons.
They still had animal names, if only to make it easier for the campers—but it was simply fun for me to do.
I was in the Stitch cabin—he’s my favorite.
Sue me. The personal cabins were far less cartoonish than the main ones, but the signs were there if you looked close enough.
The bedsheets that appeared to be a damask print were actually formed of tiny Stitch heads. Blue, pink, and yellow accents decorated the space, right down to hibiscus flowers in the bathroom.
Instead of stalls like the main cabins, there was a single walk-in shower, a bathtub big enough for two, and a changing table stocked with supplies. I hadn’t been the one to stock or even assign the cabins, but they were all the same regardless.
In the shower, I didn’t even bother turning on the hot water.
I loved the sun, but man, I hated the heat.
I didn’t like to sweat—not for no reason anyway.
The spray was nice and cool, and I found myself lingering just to feel it for a few more minutes.
Plus, the quiet and the solitude made room for me to think of him.
I never cared about gender when it came to a partner.
What mattered to me was feeling that spark, and with Shea?
We’d burn down the world. The only thing that mattered to me was that Shea was happy in whatever body he so desired.
I loved him for him, not for his anatomy.
I could only hope that he felt the same.
While my transition was far less binary than his, I still wasn’t the same person from back then.
My hands slid down my body, mapping out the differences.
My chest was smaller, thanks to a rigorous workout schedule, though I still had breasts, even if they were flattened from years of binding and less voluminous from hormones.
My stomach was more defined, but I wouldn’t go as far as to say I had abs.
My arms and legs as well had the slight definition of muscle.
All in all, my appearance was more masculine now, even if my anatomy didn’t match.
Trying not to let self-consciousness take root, I turned off the water. I didn’t often feel insecure, but… this was Shea. He was my everything. Even at seventeen, any time I thought of a marriage, or kids—it was him.
It was always him.
Forgoing clothes altogether, I toweled off and crawled into bed. The moment I closed my eyes, a picture of Shea formed, and I drifted off to the image of him.
A few hours later, I was startled awake to the sound of my phone ringing—my camp phone, that only staff and campers had access to. “Theo,” was all I answered with, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
“Sorry to wake you, T.” It was Kaylee, who volunteered for the night shift because she had an insomniatic Little. She was speaking softly to someone sniffling in the background.
“S’fine. What’s up?”
“I’ve got a Little in the Snoopy cabin who’s a bit upset. I tried to console him myself but he’s only asking for you.”
I shot upright in bed. She could only be talking about Shea. I mean, it could possibly be Tyler, but… “I’m on my way.”
I tugged on the closest set of clothes I could find, ending up with a pair of denim cutoffs and a sports bra.
Slipping into my hiking boots and grabbing my camp lanyard, I made my way over to the cabin.
Gravel crunched underfoot with each step on the path.
Most lights were out, save for the odd one or two, and the lights in the dining hall stayed on twenty-four hours a day.
During planning, I was fully aware that while this was a summer camp, we were all adults.
There was no set bedtime or limits on food—just a place for Littles and caregivers to exist without restraint.
The screen door of the Snoopy cabin was unlocked when I got there, and I opened it quietly.
Tyler was awake—barely—scrolling on his phone.
He gave me a sleepy smile and a wave when I walked in.
A couple lay sleeping in the other bed, seemingly unaware of any disruptions.
Shea’s bed was empty. “What’s going on?” I asked softly.
“I woke up to change, and Shea was sitting on one of the shower benches crying. I called Kaylee, but he keeps asking for you.”
I came to a stop next to the bed and brushed his curls out of his eyes. He leaned into the touch. “Did you get changed okay? I can help you, or go get another Daddy if you want.”
He shook his head. “I managed. Thank you.”
He let me take his phone, lock it, and place it on the nightstand. “Go back to sleep, honey.”
He didn’t protest, curling up on his side and drifting off nearly immediately.
Kaylee’s soft voice filtered from the bathroom, and I followed the sound, to the changing area between the shower and the bathtub. Shea, eyes red from crying, lit up when he saw me. “Shh,” Kaylee said. “You don’t want to wake anyone up, do you?”
Shea shook his head and opened his arms up for me. He’d regressed and based on our interaction earlier, he nearly went nonverbal. “I’ve got it Kaylee,” I told her, stepping up to the table. “Get back to Dakota.”
“Thanks.” She squeezed my arm and gave me a look that said, “We’ll be talking about this later.”
“Hey, sweet boy.” I turned to Shea, bringing him into my arms and quietly did my caregiver checks.
I patted butt—no diaper, but he was dry so no accident.
He didn’t feel warm, so no fever. He clung to me like a lifeline, desperately trying to curl his fists into the tight-fitting material of my sports bra.
Nightmare.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
He nodded against my chest. “Can I stay with you?”
“Of course you can,” I said without hesitation. “Let’s grab some clothes for tomorrow and get you back to bed.”
I helped Shea to the floor and went to his dresser, offering up a T-shirt and denim shorts.
He nodded his approval, silently gesturing to something else in the drawer.
“This?” I asked, picking up the bundle of blue fabric.
Another bob of his head, and I added it to the pile, taking his hand to lead him back to my cabin, where Shea climbed into my bed instantly.
“Not so fast,” I said. He peered up at me, blue eyes shining in the moonlight. He was so fucking adorable that I wanted to climb into bed next to him and not move for the foreseeable future. But I was a caregiver. “Do you need to pee before you go back to sleep?”
Color rushed to Shea’s cheeks, but he shook his head. I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. He’d never been a good liar, and it didn’t take him long to squirm and tug at the front of his underwear. “That’s what I thought. Come on.”
After I’d helped him go, Shea hesitated on leaving the room, and I followed his attention to the changing table. “Do you want something else to sleep in?”
Silent, Shea slipped his hand from mine and disappeared from the room, returning with that bundle of blue fabric and offering it to me.
I unfolded it, revealing a snap-crotch onesie.
He glanced from the garment, to the changing table, and back to me.
I raised the lanyard around my neck, offering him the tiny card with a traffic light on it. “Can I check in with you?”
He pointed to the green light, a finger on his other hand drifting to his mouth.
“Have you ever used diapers before?”
He shook his head.
“But you want to try one tonight?”
A nod, and Shea hooked his finger into one of my belt loops, using the leverage to tug me close. “With you.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that. “We need to go over some ground rules first. Is that okay?”
Shea’s only response was raising his arms, then glancing pointedly to the table.
That was a “yes” if I’d ever seen one. I hooked my arm underneath his butt and lifted him easily onto the table.
I didn’t suffer through arm days at the gym for nothing.
The giggle that came out of him was enough to make my heart skip a beat. “You’re so strong!”
“Well, Das have to be so they can lift their boys.”
Shea’s bright blue eyes peered up at me, cheeks turning a shade of rosy pink so precious that I brought a hand to it to feel its warmth. “Is that what I should call you? Da?”
“Only if you’re comfortable. I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything because of our history, okay?”
He nodded again, and I helped him lay down, this time offering him a pacifier from beneath the table instead of his finger.
With him sated, I launched into my spiel.
“Now, just because you’re wearing a diaper doesn’t mean you need to use it.
Some Littles like them for comfort. If you wake up and need to go, just tell me, okay?
I’ll just as soon help you potty as I will change you.
” Reaching beneath the table again, I grabbed one of the diapers and a tube of diaper cream.
“Does your skin still bother you in the summer?”
Another nod. I tugged off Shea’s clothes, setting them aside. “I need you to tell me if you pee, okay? As soon as you can. I don’t want your skin bothering you because you sat in a wet diaper too long.”
Knowing that he was mostly nonverbal, I unfolded the diaper and showed him the dinosaur printed on the front.
“He’ll disappear if you’re wet, okay? So you don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.
” I offered Shea the picture of the traffic light again, and he pointed to the green.
“Good boy.” The praise slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it, but he didn’t seem upset by it. “Hips up.”
Shea moved pliantly under my instructions, wiggling and testing out the feel of the diaper as I slid it under his butt.
I added some of the ointment to his thighs, right on the pink scars that I knew flared up in the heat.
When I folded the front over and secured the velcro tapes, a contented sigh pressed around the pacifier in his mouth.
Sleepy eyes peered down at the dinosaur, and he poked at it with a single finger and an amused laugh.
I dressed him in the onesie he’d picked out and snapped it shut between his legs.
“Come on, sweet boy,” I cooed, helping him sit up. “Let’s get you back to bed.”