Alby & Max (Part 7) (Patreon)

Alby woke up feeling surprisingly well rested, considering he’d passed out on the couch. At the speed of thought, he fantasized camping out in the living room until the end of time. That way he wouldn’t have to face the very necessary task of tossing out…

…all…

…of…

Why was his thumb in his mouth?

Alby opened his eyes so that he could properly stare down his nuzzle and confirm that he had indeed been sucking his thumb again.  The digit was wet and the rest of his hand was lightly balled up into a fist.  

Great. Another thing he’d have to work on hiding. He’d have to soak his hands in bitter apple spray or something before bed.  Just add it to the list of things to do.  Right after…

…after…

Why was he holding his Shiba Inu? That dreadfully childish and feminine thing had been tossed in one of the garbage bags! It wasn’t supposed to be here ins his arms!

With a sharp gasp, the young doberman sat up in bed and looked around. Gone were the garbage bags, Alby’s entire cleaning spree seemingly undone! Still groggy, Alby mouthed the words “What the fuck?” while he took inventory.  

The memory of him tearing everything down hadn’t been a dream. Nor was he presently dreaming.  Being sober had its benefits. More to the point, everything he’d marked for disposal had found its way out of the garbage bags, but it hadn’t all been put back in its proper place. Stuffies were out of order, collectible models were on the wrong shelf, games and DVD’s weren’t where they should be.

Part of being an anxious perfectionist gave Alby a very good memory.  Alby didn’t have a photographic memory, but he knew his private sanctum of sin so well that its contents and their location before last night might as well have been tattooed onto the back of Alby’s eyelids. More obviously, the colorful and childish posters that he’d torn up had been placed back upon the wall, but the little rips, tears, crumples, and creases from him so rapidly removing them were evident.

Someone had come in and set everything up.  He’d been invaded! Burgled! No! Reverse-Burgled!  Which wasn’t nearly as bad but it was still a severe violation of privacy!  But who-?

“Max…” Alby whispered, his brain leaping ahead to the most logical and obvious conclusion.

He tossed the covers off of himself and examined his wardrobe.  A wave of disappointment washed over him when he saw he was still wearing the same boring work clothes that he’d cried himself to sleep in, only now more wrinkled and disheveled than before.  Alby whined pathetically to himself in disappointment.  The least the wolf could have done is dress Max up in a pair of those cute jammies.

Disappointment festered into resentment. Then anger.

That fucking hypocrite! All those goddamn lectures about personal space and permission and consent! Talking about rules and boundaries and safety!  Did that mean nothing?! Or was this some kind of ‘rules for thee but not for me’ thing?   

That’s not what had been sold! That’s not what had been agreed to!  Expectations had not been properly set and managed!

“How dare he…?” Alby said, a little louder than a whisper. “How dare he?!

He start pacing his room in circles, quietly, and uncontrollably making note of every single thing that he’d gathered to destroy that had been put back.  Every collectible was akin to a slap in Alby’s face. Every stuffie safe and sound was a condescending way to put Alby back in his place. Max was allowed to go into Alby’s most private of spaces, a space he had specifically forbid the wolf from entering, but Alby couldn’t have the same freedom of going into a place that Max didn’t even sleep in?!

A chill ran down Alby’s spine. He froze.  Anger mutated into worry and fear. What if this wasn’t some kind of weird Dom power play?  What if this was goodbye?  What if this was Max’s way of telling Alby that the deal was off?  

Max seen Alby’s room, the reflection of the real Alby, and decided that he didn’t want any part of it. Every trinket and treasure was just a replacement for a whole in his heart that would never be filled.  He needed and was allowed these things because he wasn’t and shouldn’t be allowed to have any kind of real connection.  Max had put everything back all wrong as a subconscious statement with how wrong Alby was as a person.

The doberman didn’t feel the first few tears sliding down his face.  Everything was so burning hot that the simmering droplets leaking out of him barely registered. It was when his nostrils clogged up, mucus and snot making it difficult to breathe, that Alby realized that the awful awful thoughts inside his head were having an effect on the outside of his body.

A brief rap on the bedroom door jolted Alby awake.  

“Alby?” Max called from just outside. “You awake?” A beat. “I heard you moving around and wanted to check up on you.”

Self-loathing toppled in on itself. Max was still here? How? Why? He’d said all that needed to be said with this act.  Why was he still here? If there was something specific, he could have just left a note.

But Max wouldn’t leave a note, Alby realized. He was too personable for that. Too good.  Yes, he didn’t want any part of Alby’s life anymore, but that didn’t mean he wished direct ill on him. Clearly, he’d stayed the night and was waiting around to tell Alby to his face. Let him down gently.  That was nice of him.

Heartbroken paws scraped at the top of Alby’s head. Wrinkled sleeves shoved. He couldn’t let Max see him like this! Couldn’t make him feel guilty for coming to the only reasonable conclusion that one could expect.

“I’m fine!” he tried to lie.  Alby was a shittier liar than usual. His voice sounded tight and it pitched up at the very end.  

Max’s retort was immediate. “You don’t sound fine.”

The doberman tried to reply- cook up a lie about feeling sick or something- but his voice failed him; his throat becoming so tight as to be unable to make a word without sounding like he was bawling.

“I’m coming in,” Max announced after the silence.

The world sprung into slow motion with the turning of the door handle. Alby rushed at his own bedroom door and leaned against it with all his might and weight. “NO!” he yelped.

The knob turned, and the door jostled, but Alby kept his entire body against it.  He would not move. He would not let the wolf intrude again. Max was stronger than him, but he’d have to break the door into splinters before Alby would let this final shred of dignity escape him.

“No?” Max’s confused response came back.  “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“I MEAN ‘NO’!”  Great. Now Alby was screaming. His head buzzed, feeling alert. His body felt tired.  His voice was too loud or too quiet. His face was wet. His mouth was dry. Everything was wrong!

Max wasn’t pushing back. Not physically, anyhow. “Alby,” he said. “I’m sorry I went into your room without permission. I came over to keep you company and you’d passed out and-”

“I DON’T CARE!” The doberman shrieked. “GET OUT!”

“I’m not gonna do that, kid.” Max’s voice was calm and steady.  “Not while you’re like this.”

Like this?  What did that mean?!  All of Alby’s worst fears about himself had been confirmed as far as he was concerned.  A loud, low moaning sob, ruptured forth.  “No,” he cried. “If you don’t wanna be here, you don’t have to be here.”

“Kid,” Max said. “I do wanna be here. What are you talking about?”

“You’re a good guy,” Alby sniffled. “I’m sorry I was such a jerk.”

“Alby?”

“If you gotta say something so you can feel like you explained it well enough, you don’t have to.”

“What are you-?”

“But believe me.  I know.  I’ve known for a long time.  So do whatever you need to do so you can leave me and get out.”  Alby slammed his eyes closed, failing to stop the tears or the horrible thoughts circling around in his head like sharks that smelled blood.

Alby waited. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds but it felt uncomfortably longer. Ten seconds is forever when you’re somewhere between a temper tantrum, a panic attack, and an existential crisis.  Shittiest Venn Diagram in the world is what it was.

Still there, Max finally said, “Leave you?”

“Yes.”  Finally, Alby’s voice was crisp and clear.

“Where did you get that idea?” Max sounded confused. Perhaps even a little hurt.  His words fell on deaf ears just then.

“You saw!” Alby barked. “You know!”

“Yeah. So?” Max countered. “Come on, Alby. Just open the door.”

“NO!”

Another pause. This one shorter.

“Alby,” Max said, his voice strong yet neutral. “Open the door, young lady.  Right. Now.”  He hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t threatened. He hadn’t snapped. The wolf just said it like he knew it was going to happen and that the command not being obeyed wasn’t a possibility.

The fight left Alby.  The tempest of emotions inside of him abated with the calm of Max’s command.  He stopped pushing against the door like a grenade was about to go off. He grabbed the door handle himself and twisted it open.  It was easy. Max had let go the second Alby had started the pushing war that wasn’t.

“Okay…sorry…please don’t be mad.”  Alby opened the door.  Shamefaced and scared, he averted his gaze and looked down at the floor.

Max didn’t say anything. Not at first.  He stepped in and closed the door behind him. Then he took Alby by the hand and walked back over to Alby’s bed.  He sat down on it, and pulled Alby into his lap.

“Sorry,” Alby whimpered. “I’m sorry.”

Max wrapped his arms around Alby’s waist, not squeezing him, but hugging him.  “Shhhhhh….” he said in a low and steady voice.  “Take deep breaths. Let yourself be still.  Let yourself be quiet.  Then we’ll talk.”

“How?”  Alby hadn’t noticed it until then, but he was shivering. Practically vibrating. He was also panting; near hyperventilating.

“Breath in through your nose and out through your mouth.”  Max instructed. “Suck your thumb if it helps.”  Alby did.  It did help.  “Don’t pay attention to me. I’m here, but I’m not the focus.  In through your nose, out through your mouth.  I set this place up kind of sloppy. Look around and think about where everything needs to go.”

In the garbage. It needed to go in-

“Not in the trash,” Max broke through, practically reading Alby’s mind. “Just think about where it was before and what you need to do to reorganize it so it looks the same.  Can you do that for me, little girl?”

Thumb in her mouth, Alby nodded. “Yeth Daddy.”

“Okay. Don’t tell me about it, but just think it.”

So Alby did.  Slowly and meticulously cataloging everything that was wrong, but reframing it as something needing to be put right, not destroyed. Her heart rate slowed. The calm spread from her mind to her muscles to her heart.

Daddy wasn’t leaving.  Daddy was here.  He wasn’t mad.  She’d been good.  

“Better?” Max asked.

Still slightly shaken, but no longer shaking, Alby nodded. “Mhm.”

“Okay.” Max instructed. “I want you to listen carefully.  I’m going to let go of you just enough so you can move, then I’m going to need you to slide off my lap.”

“Why?” Alby asked.

“So we can talk. I’ll keep my arm on you, but I want to talk to you. Really talk. That means I’m gonna need you to be big, you understand?”

“Like at work?”  Alby was frowning before the thought was voiced.

“No, not like at work.  I just need to know that I’m talking to the part of Alby that can understand and agree and make decisions. Not the part of Alby that’s scared and needs to be told what to do.”

The doberman took another deep breath, and nodded, silently.  “Okay.” He slid off of Max’s lap.  As promised, Max kept his arm slung over Alby’s shoulders like a warm blanket.
“You ready to talk?” Max asked.  Alby nodded but didn’t answer. “I’m gonna need a verbal response, Alby.”

“Yeah,” Alby said, feeling more at peace but incredibly embarrassed. “Sorry.”

“I’m gonna need you to stop doing that,” Max told him, gently.  “If I need an apology, I’ll tell you.”

“But I fucked up,” Alby muttered.  He’d just woken up but he was already exhausted.

“Yup,” Max replied, “but we probably disagree on the “what?”

Alby scooted away just enough so he could better turn his head and look Max in the eye. “What do you mean?” he cocked his head to the side.

“I mean you fucked up in hiding all of this and then trying to throw it out.”

“I was just cleaning.”

“Alby…” Max said, “I know what it sounds like when you lie, now. Try the truth.”

“Sor…” But he stopped himself. “I…hate this part of myself and was trying to get rid of it.”

“How did that work out for you?” Max chuckled lightly at his own joke.  “You have some messed up coping mechanisms, buddy.”

Alby gestured around the room.  “You think?!”  It looked like it belonged to a twelve year old girl…and he loved it.

Max picked up on his meaning. “What? You mean this? I don’t care about this.”  He leaned in and gave Alby a squeeze.  “Trust me, I’ve seen weirder. I’ve done weirder. If you like this sort of stuff, that’s not a character flaw.”

“If not this,” Alby asked, “what is?”

“Taking everything you love and tossing it in the trash,” Max started counting off on his fingers. “Thinking that because I saw it that must mean that I was gonna reject you.  Getting worked up. Panic attacks.”

“I can’t help it!” Alby whined, resentfully.

Max considered. “You can help you act about it.  You can choose to not destroy all your stuff.”

“Why do you care?”

Max snorted. “I don’t want you doing stupid shit, kid.  Drinking yourself into oblivion is stupid. Trying to burgle into my house is stupid.  Wrecking the one room in your home that you really care about is stupid.  And they’re all things you regret after they’re done. Which is stupid.”

“You came in here without my permission,” Alby said. He didn’t really care so much in the moment, he just wanted to be right. About something.

“Yeah. I did.” Max agreed. “Would you like an apology?”

Alby looked away. “Yes.”

“Then, I apologize,” Max said, like it was really that easy. “It was against what we agreed upon, but it was with the best of intentions.  Good thing I did too. You were purging something hard.”

Purging?  Alby hadn’t heard the word used in that context, but he understood what it meant almost instantly.  “Yeah. I guess I was.”

“No more of that,” Max said. It was with the same god-like expectation with which he told Alby to open the door.  “If you don’t like being a little girl, for whatever reason, you can choose to stop.  But you invested a lot of care into this stuff and you’re going to hate yourself even more if you wreck it all because you’re embarrassed or whatever.”

“Yes…?” Alby started, a bit of confusion peaking out at the end.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do I call you, Max or Daddy?”

The wolf untensed. “We’re alone. Call me whichever you like.”

“Yes, Daddy.”  Wow. That felt surprisingly good to say, even when Alby wasn’t feeling like a toddler.

“Okay, Max started the conversation back up.  “So. What did I just save?” He asked. “Why don’t you tell me about all this stuff?”

It wasn’t suspicion that made Alby go “Why?”. His tail was starting to wag, but just a little.

Max shrugged. “You love it and hate it at the same time, yeah? I get why you think you hate it. Why do you love it?  Tell me.”  He gave a hint of a smirk.  “Sell me on it.”

Alby blinked, and for once it wasn’t blinking back tears or confusion. “Oh…okay.” He allowed himself a smile.  “Sure.”

*********************************************************************************************

“Mhm.”

Well crap.

“Oh?”

Crap.

“Go on.”

Crap, crap, crap.

“Mmmmmm….”

Max sat on the side of Alby’s bed, pretending to listen to listen to the doberman. Alby would point at some doll or another and tell him it was Sailor wussername or princess wusserface.  Max would wait until Alby finished speaking, then he would nod and encourage him to keep talking.

Occasionally he’d parrot back something Alby had just info dumped all over him.  “Okay, so let me get this straight. This is an ensemble genre with almost no continuity between the different shows, but they all tend to have elements in common.  Like they all have giant robots-”

“Mechs,” Alby corrected.

“Right, mechs,” Max said. “And in each of these shows, some mechs are more special than others?”

“Yeah,” Alby said, really lapping up the attention, “but the reason they’re special varies from series to se-”

Max was already tuning the little dog out. Within ten minutes he’d have forgotten everything, even the stuff he said.  Sometimes ‘active listening’ was just a sales strategy to make people think you cared.

The funny thing was, Max did care.  Just not about this stuff.  

To put it another way: Every time Max’s niece went through her various phases and discoveries, Max would be ‘treated’ to finding out about it.  At every age and every stage it had happened. When she was three it was about the intricate lives of her ragdolls.  When she was in Kindergarten it was all about her favorite cartoon. In third grade, it was about her favorite cutesy video game. In late elementary he’d been a guest on lectures about the latest flavor of poppy boy band, either locally or abroad.  She was in middle school now and there had been something of a Renaissance of all the above interests stacking in on each other.

And through it all, Max nodded, and smiled. He asked basic questions to show his interest, or parroted something back but slightly different. And he loved it and looked forward to doing it every time he visited.  He wasn’t particularly interested in his niece’s television preferences, but her energy was infectious, and the sincerity with which she shared it made him want to be there.

The terrible teens were right around the corner. Chances are there next time he traveled, there’d be no bright eyed girl wanting to chat up ‘Uncle Max’, but instead morose, probably moody young woman who just wanted to be left alone; her room like a pupa.  He already felt sorry for his sister.

Point being, in the here and now, Max was experiencing a similar feeling. It wasn’t the content, but Alby’s unabashed enthusiasm and unpretentious love for all of these silly little things. It was like Alby had the body of a young man, but the interests and tendencies of practically every phase a little girl might go through.  It was…it was…kind of adorable, actually.  

Well crap.  

Max had let his guard down.

Crap.

He was starting to feel things beyond a general duty of care.

Crap, crap, crap.

A general acceptance of Alby was transforming into something more, right here in this room.

CRAP!

And there wasn’t a cold shower in sight.

One way or another.  Max would admit the truth to himself one way or another. His initial reaction to Alby’s transgressions had nothing to do with shaming and teaching the pup a lesson. It had been born out of a faint, impossibly distant hope that things would progress to this.

One way or another.

One way or another, Max was going to baby Alby.  The funny part is, all he’d have to do is ask.


***********************************************************************************************
Alby sat nervously in the backseat of Max's car, his mind racing. He was in the back seat, because that’s where children sat. For the next three days, that was what Alby was going to effectively be.  

The thought terrified him.

His brain kept calculating and projecting everything that could possibly go wrong. What if Max backed out and got tired of it?  What if Alby did something wrong or was too needy? What if he wasn’t good enough? Or bad enough? Naughty enough?  Whatever! Not the point!

What if this didn’t do anything for him?  What if it didn’t ‘fix’ him or give him a fix? What if he liked it but only a little? What if his expectations were too high?  Expecting steak and getting hamburger helper?

Too much. It was all too much.  Only now that it was happening, really happening, was it becoming real. Not a fantasy. Not a thought experiment. Not a discussion.  Real.

They had talked about this for a while. A simple three-day weekend: Saturday, Sunday and Monday. A nice quiet vacation. Not geographically speaking, they’d just be at Max’s farmhouse, but a vacation away from the rest of the world.  From the rest of reality.  From their work lives. From Alby’s adult life.

Alby brought no suitcase. All the clothes he’d need, Max assured him, would be inside and provided.

For three days, it would be just Max and Alby. Starting almost as soon as they got inside, it’d be Daddy and baby girl.  And Alby was both thrilled and terrified that something would go wrong. He’d already screwed up so much.  How could he trust his instincts when almost every instinct he had turned out to be wrong?

Alby wasn’t trusting his instincts, however. That was kind of the point of this weekend.  He was trusting Max’s.With everything, he’d be trusting Max.  And that was the point. Still didn’t stop him from shaking quietly like a leaf.

When they finally arrived at the house, Max got out of his car and opened the back door. for When he didn’t, Max calmly reached in and placed hand under the little doberman’s bicep and used the other to clasp his palm, and guided him out.  

“It’s going to be okay,” Max said with quiet confidence. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.  You can back out at any time.” He started walking the both of them inside.  “You’re not going to, but you always can if things get too intense.”

“I know,” Alby. “I know. Just…”

“I know, kiddo,” Max said. “I know.”

*********************************************************************************************

Max knew all too well. Despite his practiced calm demeanor, the wolf was extremely anxious about this weekend.  He wasn’t worried about whether or not things would go as planned, he was more than fairly sure in his ability to deliver.  It was just what would it mean after?  This was next level stuff.

This was all so surreal.  If someone had told either of them a year ago that this would be going on, both of them would have laughed and brushed it off as some kind of joke told in bad taste.

In less than half a year things big and small had changed drastically between them and about them.

Alby was less of a jackass.  He was still capable of much, but it had lost that edge of aggressive insecurity. No more bullying. No more vying for attention or promotion. All of that neurotic, dare he say it, tattletale energy was directed elsewhere.  

Things at work had improved a lot. Like, ‘a lot’ a lot. People at the office talked about Alby, and as always, Max listened.

“Does Alby seem different to you?”

“Yeah, he’s gotten way more chill lately.”

“Like something finally crawled out of his ass.”

“Whatever did, I hope it stays out.”

“Amen. It’s nice not dying inside or bracing myself whenever I see an email with his name on it.”

He’d heard from Christine the cat how Alby had apologized to her unexpectedly and with zero prompting. “I think I’m shedding less,” she laughed. “Must be the lack of stress.” If his mission had been to make the doberman less of an asshole, he would have succeeded. Mission Accomplished.

The mission had changed since New Year’s Day.

More than Alby had changed. Max had changed too.

“What’s going on?” Christine asked one day.

Max replied only with a slight head cock.

“There’s been something…different about you lately,” she explained. “Not bad different, just different.  You’ve got a little pep in your step.”

Some jackass from accounting passed by and intruded. “I know what you’re talking about.  Homeboy’s getting laaaaaaid!”

Not quite. Not even close from the most literal and mechanical perspective. But Max had caught himself feeling increasingly at ease. Rewarded. Oddly satisfied.  It wasn’t until Christine and the jackass (a literal donkey) had pointed it out, that Max reflected on it and saw it himself.  At least half the time he was smiling, it was because he was thinking of Alby.

Max had been over at Alby's apartment more times than he could count. He picked him up from work, drove him back home. What had started out as a punishment and a way for Max to keep Alby under control and his house un-burgled had become a new and pleasant routine.  

At least once a week, they’d stop at a diner to eat out.   Alby was nervous about it because of a fear of someone from work finding them together, but Max made him power through it.  He purposefully forgot to remind Alby that people probably saw them coming and going in Max’s car; law of averages being what it was.  He didn’t know anime, but he knew Jurassic Park and kept having to resist the urge to recreate the scene where their warthog shouted out his conspirator’s name in public and then go ‘See? Nobody cares.’

His little puppy wouldn’t have reacted well to that.  His puppy…yeah; Max had it bad.  It just took him longer to see it.

In the weeks following up to today, Max had spent most evenings and weekends at Alby’s.  They’d watch anime together.  Max wouldn’t call himself a ‘fan’, but he was enjoying it and able to follow along and appreciate the stories.  Especially when Alby would geek out and start info dumping about the history of the show or how such and such character was a nod to such and such legend or cultural touchstone.  It wasn’t his thing, and it never would be in the sense that he’d watch it alone, but cuddling up on Alby’s couch and watching the cartoons was something he was starting to look forward to.

It didn’t have to be anime, but it had to be something that interested him and was suitably childish.  They’d taken the time to sit down and make a list a few daily exercises; rules if you will. That was rule number two they’d developed: Alby had to do something little every day. Max was going to make sure he got his fix, even if that meant Alby pretending that he was being forced to.

When it wasn’t Japanese cartoons, Max would grab a book or bust out his laptop to finalize some deals while Alby played on the floor with his models and toys.  It was always on the floor out in the living room.  That was part rule number three: No more hiding in his room.  If he was going to learn to be happy with himself, really start living, Alby was going to have to stop confining everything to just four walls and whatever he could stuff in his pants.

Speaking of pants…one thing they agreed upon was no more lacy silk undies for Alby. Max had updated Alby’s wardrobe so that he had other ways to show his femininity.  Every night after dinner, Alby would take a shower and then get dressed in some particularly girly pajamas and cotton panties.  That was rule four.

Rule five was that Alby was allowed to disobey rules two, three, and four, and that Max was allowed to discipline him appropriately.  “Allow” in this context meant that Alby could argue and refuse without it being taken as a sign of disinterest and that Max could reciprocate with discipline with Alby knowing that it wasn’t in anger or frustration.

It didn’t take much: A stern talking to. A quick spanking.  Deep down Alby wanted this. Shit, not so deep down. No one recovers from a lifetime overnight, and part of the dog needed to resist and struggle so that they could be put back in their place. It had happened like that the first time.  This was just twisting things in the other direction.

All part of the game.  No harm done.

Rule numero uno, of course, was that whenever they were alone, Max was always ‘Daddy’ and Alby was his ‘little girl’.

The rules had served them well. They just weren’t enough. They were an appetizer before the main course; water wings before attempting to swim in the deep end.  A way to acclimate Alby so that he was more comfortable in his own skin.  Max just hoped that their warm ups wasn’t really a heavy meal and that this weekend wasn’t pushing him into the pool with a full stomach. It wouldn’t help anyone if he was so busy drowning in his own humiliation and self loathing that he didn’t enjoy himself.

“Is everything gonna be okay, Daddy?” Alby finally spoke up.  Max took the talking as a sign that things were going well. “Of course it is, Little girl,” Max promised. “Of course it is.”

Max opened the front door and took Alby upstairs, straight to the master bedroom and on through to the master bathroom. The bathroom was of average size, with muted stone walls. The big bathtub was big enough for two, and he’d set up a couple houseplants. All in all, even with the commode, the room had a sense of quiet quasi-natural peace.  

He’d set everything up where it needed to be before he’d picked Alby up for work this morning.  They were here, together at last.

Time to start.

Max gestured to the enema bag hanging from a ceiling hook. “Let’s start by cleaning you out, baby girl.”

*******************************************************************************************************

Alby knew this was coming. He’d been preparing for it. He’d been looking forward to it. Everything was in place as it should be.

That didn’t stop him from being nervous.  “Are you sure about this?” he asked Max, heart fluttering in both the best and worst ways.  

Max sat calmly on the toilet lid as though it were a sofa. “We’ve got the vacation time,” Max soothed. “It’s only a three day weekend. We filed for it separately and with enough of a gap to where nobody’s gonna suspect. Nobody’s gonna know.”

Hearing it said still made it more real to Alby. He was both reassured and overwhelmed. “What if they do?”

“Know that we’ve been spending time together?” Max calmly cocked an eyebrow. “So? We’re allowed to be friends outside of work.  Dating? There’s no big conflict of interest there.”

Dating…

Hoooo boy. That was a word Alby still hadn’t learned to accept.  He wasn’t sure what one would call their…game…arrangement…relationshi-...nope…not finishing that thought. His father wouldn’t approve.  Having a boyfriend wasn’t the deal breaker; calling said beau ‘Daddy’ most certainly was.

The wolf reached out and cupped the doberman’s trembling hand.  “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re just staring here, at my place. Nobody’s going to know.  It’s just gonna be you and me.  Baby girl and Daddy.  Alby and Max.”

That made it more real too, though in a completely good way.  Alby inhaled and thought a bout everything that had been discussed so far. Experimenting. Limits. Going deeper into headspace than he’d ever purposefully gone before.  “Okay,” he said. “Okay.  Okay.”  The third time was the charm.  “I’m ready.”

“Not yet you’re not,” Max smirked slightly, “but Daddy’s gonna get you ready.”

The sound of Max calling himself Daddy was intoxicating to the point of it being disorienting. Alby’s entire world felt like it was shrinking around him, Max’s voice a magic spell. Max leaned forward and pulled down Alby’s pants. The dog’s hands folded and bunched up close to his chest so as not to interfere.

“Step out,” Max ordered as soon as Alby’s pants were down past his ankles.  Alby obeyed, and was rewarded with  a “Good girl,” that caused his pulse to start thrumming in his ears.  

Max patted his lap.  “Come on.  You can do it.”  

Alby twisted and turned themselves, somehow unsure of how to approach.  “Help?”

“Alright, baby girl,” Max grabbed Alby’s wrist.  “I’ll help.”  

Just like the first time, Max grabbed Alby by the wrist and pulled them across the wolf’s lap.  It was much slower and more controlled.  There was none of the tense, calculated rage in Max’s grip.  No hands fell upon Alby. No blows from an angry god rained down.  One constant was the strong arm pinning Alby to the bigger man’s knee.  Trapped again.

The only sounds that Alby could detect were the ones inside his head; the sound of sharp and shallow inhales in his nostrils; the beating of his heart, the quickening of his pulse.

“Ready?” Max asked.

Alby couldn’t reply. His teeth were too clenched.  He nodded instead.  “Okay,” Max said. “I’m going to do it on three.”  Max leaned forward, wedging more of his body against Alby in case they started squirming.  His pinning arm shifted. It was no longer wrapping around Alby but still pressing firmly against Alby’s back.  That same arm waved its way down Alby’s back and lifted the little dog’s tail. “Ooooone…t-”

The lubed up enema hose was jammed up Alby’s backside, plunging between Alby’s cheeks and going deeper.  “Hrrrn, hrrrn, hrrrn,” Alby whimpered like a little puppy.  Something was inside them. Something foreign. Invasive.

Alby jolted at the surprise, but immediately clamped down on every instinct they had to struggle.

“Good girl,” Max said, stroking Alby’s head and shoulders. “Very good.”

“Thank you, Daddy…” Alby whimpered.  Her voice wasn’t very loud, but the confined space and the echoing tile acted as a microphone.

“Okay, sweetie,” Daddy warned her. “Here it comes.”  

Alby heard a light click coming from behind her. A button being pressed. A valve being opened.

Alby hadn’t known what to expect an enema felt like. Besides the uncomfortable pressure from a plastic tube stuck up her butt, it didn’t feel like much of anything. Then she felt the fullness. “Daddy-”

“Shhhh, princess,” Daddy hushed her.

It was like her belly was filling up in reverse time lapse. Moments ago, she had been feeling a little hungry despite the nerves.  Every passing second changed that. Her belly felt full. Very full. Thanksgiving level full.  Then it started to hurt.

“Daddy…?”

“It’s almost done, sweetie.”

The hurt didn’t increase, not at first, but the fullness did as her guts all but inflated. And empty tummy became a full one, and not having to go started to feel like being on the verge of a diarrhea accent.”

“Daddy!” she shrieked.

“Okay,” Daddy chuckled. “All filled up.”

Alby heard another click. “Thank you, Daddy…” she panted.

“I’m going to take the hose out,” Daddy said. “I need you to be reeeeal tough for me and try and clench your cheeks together so you don’t get a mess on Daddy.”

A painful cramp stabbed through Alby.  The flow into her bottom had stopped, but her muscles were still straining to push things out into the proper direction. “Yes Daddy!” she said. “I will Daddy!  Then can I use the potty?”  Guiltily she tacked on, “Like a big girl.”

“Mhmmm,” Daddy said.  “Hold it in just a second. One…two…three…”  This time Daddy waited the entire three count to remove the hose.  Alby had to tuck her tail and clench her cheeks as soon as she felt the tubing come out of her.  If she didn’t, she felt she’d have an accident right there on the bathroom floor.  

Like a baby.  Alby didn’t want that.  Or rather…Alby didn’t want to admit that she did…

“Okay. Stand up.”

Alby could feel her insides slosh with her change in position. The accompanying cramp made it all the more intense. Everything was inside her and everything wanted out. Now.

Daddy didn’t move.

“Daddy…?”   Another sharp pang. “Can I…?”  One hand touched her belly. The other shot around back, as if to catch or plug up the dam about to burst.

“May you,” he corrected.

“May I…?”

“You certainly may.”  Daddy stood up off the toilet. The balm of hope Alby experienced lasted only as long as it took for her to see that Daddy had placed a lock on it.  Daddy sidled over to the sink and opened up the cabinet doors. From underneath the bathroom sink, he pulled out a perfectly dainty, thick, pink plastic child’s potty; the kind a two year old too small to reach the toilet might sit “I said you could go potty like a big girl, not use the toilet like a grown-up.”

Desperation quadrupled. It was like there was a rockslide in her tummy and everything was going to avalanche out. If not into the receptacle, then onto the floor. Cheeks clenched, Alby shuffled across to the potty, her bottom practically attacking the rim.

Yet now, she could not go.  Daddy was standing there, looking down at her. Waiting.

A pain. A cramp. The wet hot dribble leaking out into the pot.

“No!” Alby whined.

“Go on,” Daddy coaxed. “Get it all out.”

Some small amount of pride, some trace of the adult yet lingered above the pain and discomfort.  Alby the boss’s son couldn’t quite debase himself this much in order for Alby the little girl to come out of shell. Too many years of trying to appear big and tough and cool and invincible. Too many years of potty training and practiced shame.  

Daddy knew just what to say. “Make me proud.”

Alby let go. Bowels relaxed and murky smelly gut water poured out of her. At first there weren’t any of the traditionally rude noises. No pops or screeches of farts short or long.  There wasn’t enough air in that part of her. She just kept going.  Her innards sensing relief, hastened things along by contracting, forcing her to push everything out in tiny wet bits as if the very linings of her were being peeled off from the inside.

Finally…with one last push, the last few spluttering, popping, straining wet farts flapped out of her and she was left panting and momentarily exhausted.

“Good girl,” Daddy said. “Now that you’re all cleaned out of those silly big girl stuff, let’s get you cleaned up and ready for the weekend.”