Alby & Max (Part 10) (Patreon)

“Heeeeere cooooomes the spooooon!” Max dipped and ducked the big wooden baking spoon around in the air the way a mosquito might to avoid being swatted.  Alby tracked it with all the intensity of a child eyeballing their first underhand softball pitch.  Max artfully stopped it so that it was just barely within reach of Alby’s mouth; just enough to make her lean forward in the highchair, so close yet so far.

Alby let out a low pitiful whine, and Max decided to take pity on her; scooping the cheesy pasta into her open mouth.

The second the spoon made it past the doberman’s lips, far too much macaroni and cheese avalanched into the little dog’s mouth.  Even more tumbled out and over onto the oversized bib.

“You did it!” Max praised.

Alby smacked her lips and horked down the gooey globs.   “I did it!”  She threw her arms up in celebration.  

“Though it definitely looks like you’re getting more on you than in you,” Max jested.  Damn, Max loved using that line.  Macaroni and cheese had been the perfect choice:  Gooey, sloppy, and easy to prepare but still more than filling enough. A childhood classic that adult tongues and taste buds could readily accept.  He’d learned from experience that applesauce didn’t quite hit the spot as a standalone and that actual baby food tasted vile.  The only babies who liked that stuff were the ones who didn’t have any other solids to compare to. “You’re supposed to eat your dinner, Princess,” he chuckled, “not wear it.”

Alby swallowed and squirmed in her highchair, huffily. Save for the bib and the fresh diaper Max had changed her into, she was completely naked.  Max had opted to take the onesie all the way off during the change. “It’d be easier if I could use a regular spoon,” Alby said.

That was objectively true but it was beside the point.

Max put on his best poker face. “What do you mean, baby?  This is the perfect sized spoon for you.”  Max put the giant bowl down, grabbed his fork and took a bite from his plate of grilled chicken caesar salad.  .

Alby had globby macaroni and cheese.  Max had a crisp and crunchy salad. Alby’s bowl had enough of the stuff to feed three to four people easily. Max’s portions, while not anemic, certainly left plenty of room.   

All according to the plan.

“It’s huge!” Alby said, lips smeared with cheese sauce. “I can barely fit it in my mouth!”

Max smiled and nodded knowingly.  “That’s right,” Max said condescendingly. “The spoon is very big, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Alby said, indignantly. “Yes it is!”

Max plucked a nearby wet wipe and ran it across Alby’s mouth.  “Is it?” he asked. “Or is it just because you’re so tiny?”

Alby visibly shuddered in the highchair. Max had found the right word.  “I’m…tiny?”

“Of course you are, sweetie!” Max cooed.  “Everything looks big when you’re a baby.”  He grabbed the spoon and spilled another hunk of macaroni into her mouth and onto her bib. “The whole world looks giant when you’re as cute and helpless as you are.”

The little dog’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. “Mmmmm…”  Her mouth was so stuffed that even the act of humming made a few bits leak out at the edges.

Max saw his opening and took it.  “This spoon and bowl must look sooooo big to you, but it’s just an itty bit.”  He waited for his new baby to swallow.  “And your diapers must seem super big to you, but there’s no way Daddy could fit into them or any of your pretty clothes.”  This was technically true, but that had more to do with body types than anything. If Max decided to order those diapers or clothes a size or two up from what he had in stock, he’d fit just fine.  

Best not to let the baby know that.

Alby’s eyes glazed over and her face went slack.  “They’re not big? I’m just small?”

Poor thing needed to hear this. She clearly wanted it to not be a question.

“Yes, Princess,” Daddy said. “There’s no way Daddy could fit into your highchair.” He spooned another helping into her mouth.  “Or your crib.” He caught some of the spillover on his spoon and held it up for a second try.  “Or your changing table.  He’d just look silly in your playpen.”

A goofy smile played at Alby’s lips while the mental imagery played themselves out behind her eyes.. “Silly Daddy,” she giggled, mouth still half full of cheese.

Max brought the fantasy home by frosting the concrete lies with an emotional truth. “Those things don’t fit me. They aren’t for grown-ups. They’re for you! Daddy got them to make it easier to take care of you!”  

If Alby had melted anymore she would have been absorbed by her own diaper.  “Yes, Daddy. Thank you Daddy.”

Max heaped up another hunk of macaroni and started to zip around with it again in a drunken bee-line towards Alby’s face. “Heeeere comes the spoon!”

Alby opened her mouth, but then looked doubtful.  She blanched and turned her head away.  “Actually, Daddy…I’m getting kind of full.”

“Really?” Max answered in faux surprise. “But you’ve barely touched it.”  That was untrue, but this was the fun of portion distortion.  “Why do you think you’re so full, sweetheart?”

Alby groaned despite herself and patted her tummy. “Because I’m too little.”

Yes!  

“Awwwww,”  Max replied. “You really are, aren’t you. Baby girl is so small she can’t even finish her din-din.”  A wicked twinkle found its way into Max’s eye.  “Can you give Daddy just one more bite, Princess?  Just one?  For me?”

Officially, it was a question and not a command, but some questions had implied answers secretly sewn in.  Alby definitely picked up on this, but the phrasing tempered the little dog’s lingering defiance.  She was helping him.

“Urp!” She belched. “Yes, Daddy. I can do one more bite.”

The wolf made a note that he’d have to try burping her later and see how that went, but decided not to push it immediately.  He offered up the spoon, instead of shoving in her face. “Good girl.”

***************************
It had been ages since Alby had taken a bath. Showers were just faster and more efficient. Also less sensual.  Lavender scented bubbles perfumed the air, and hot water boiled the tension out of her muscles that she hadn’t realized was there. It was at just the right temperature; just below a jacuzzi and without the jets.

Laying back in the tub with her eyes closed, stuffed from her highchair feeding, Alby smiled and hummed atonally to herself.  Were she a cat she’d be purring.  How funny would it be to pour bubble bath into a jacuzzi?  That sounded almost like an idea for a game. Something like ‘washing machine’.

Daddy lathered up her head and massaged his fingers into her scalp.  Her tail wagged beneath the water, causing a patch of bubbles surrounding her to foam up.  “Do you like that, Princess?” he asked.

The little dog nodded just enough.  “Mhm” she said dreamily.  

“Good. Baby girl’s love bath time,” he said softly.  “It’s a good way to wind down after a long day of playing.”

Alby opened her eyes and stared vacantly at the rubber duck bobbing gently in the water; not yet overtaken by the bubbles..  “Yes, Daddy,” she said. She had no idea why she said it, but it felt right to say it.

What also felt oddly right, she reflected, was how comfortable she felt being naked just now.  That is to say she was marveling at how she was still thinking of herself as ‘she’ and as a baby girl despite the lack of accouterments.

When Alby wore silky panties, she still tended to think of herself as ‘himself’. He was a grown-ass man wearing lady’s underwear.  But as soon as she donned the pretty dresses and thick trainers, she knew she was a little girl. She’d been wrong about how little she was, but that corrected itself the moment Daddy fastened on that first diaper and popped her in a onesie.

However the illusion did not break when Daddy had sat her back on the potty to go poop.  All it had taken was a single utterance of “Wow! That was good timing on Daddy’s part, huh Princess?” and she instantly felt like she was nothing more than a puppy who’d been rushed over at exactly the right time; not an adult that couldn’t commit to the bit. .

Daddy explaining how the potty worked while he cleaned her up and re-diapered her only cemented her position.  She wasn’t potty trained and no attempt was going to be made, but an opportunity had presented itself.

Dinner had been surprisingly unchallenging to her, too.  When Daddy hadn’t replaced the onesie before dinner, she feared she’d go back to Albert the office manager, only in a diaper.  Two seconds later, the thought that she was baby Albert intruded.  The diaper with its alphabet block stencils, safety pins, and rattles on it was very infantile, but not particularly feminine, either.

The idea that she was a boy was quickly batted away like a bug by the time Daddy plopped her in her chair.

Presently Alby was naked, with nothing save soap to obscure her genitals. The onesie was in a hamper and the diaper she’d worn at dinner was in the pail stuffed on top of the one she’d worn before dinner.  The nursery was out of sight, and the bathroom wasn’t particularly infantile.  Still, when Alby saw her faded reflection in the shiny bathroom tiles, she saw a toddler girl, not an adult man.

What Daddy said had been true:  The clothes and such complimented her so well because they were for a baby. They didn’t make her who she was but they were made for her because of who she was.

And who she was all along was a baby girl.

She let out another purring home and caught the distinct taste of her thumb with only a hint of soap.  She quickly yanked it out of her mouth. “Sorry Daddy!” She apologized. “I didn’t mean to!”

“It’s okay, Princess,” Daddy assured her. “You don’t have your paci in the tub, so it’s only natural.”

Alby thanked him by popping her thumb back in and sucking on it while Daddy continued to massage her scalp and rub her shoulders.  

Daddy leaned forward to grab the rubber duck and hand it to her.  “Here,” he said. “Give it a squeeze.” The most high pitched nasally squeak came out of the toy, eliciting amused giggles from the little dog in the tub.

“Hee-heee-heee!” she mumbled around her thumb!

Satisfied, Daddy grabbed a washcloth and started bathing her in earnest. “First we get your arms, Daddy said, and ran the warm washcloth from Alby’s wrist all the way up to the shoulders.  “Aaaand switch!”

Alby removed her thumb and took the ducky from herself while substituting her left thumb for her right.  A second later, Daddy washed and massaged all the muscles and fur on the other arm.  The puppy girl made the duck squeak every time Daddy gently squeezed her arm.

“Such a clever girl,” he praised. “Now lean forward a little bit, so Daddy can wash your back.”

She did as instructed and was treated to a light massage on her upper back.  Then lower.  Alby forgot to squeeze the duck while Daddy worked his arms all the way down her till he reached her tailbone.  He lingered there for a half a minute, just pressing his fingers into her and finished by gently wringing her tail.

His arms resurfaced with the washcloth and circled around to her chest. Tickling and teasing her, tabbing her with the washcloth with one hand and running his fingers up and down her like a playful spider  “Now your chest and belly. Tiki-tiki-tiki-tiki-tiki!”

This earned him more giggles from his baby girl and squeaks from her duck.

Arms went deeper beneath the water.  “Let’s get your legs and feet,” Daddy said.

Alby sucked harder on her thumb while Daddy tickled and massaged her toes, her feet, her ankles, her shins, her knees, and thighs.  Her other hand pulsated on the duck, adding the tiniest amount of throbbing pressure, but not enough to cause anymore than the slightest of indentations on the surface of the duck’s artificial skin.

Such a perfectly curated experience this was. Not just this moment, but the entire day so far; even the parts that had needed tweaking and adjustment. As an office manager, it was Alby’s entire existence to plan and juggle and compensate for the needs of others.  Take all the pieces of a day’s puzzle and fit them all together in a new pattern every day that made a similar but different picture and all the pieces had to be used and out of the box.

How wonderful it was to have someone else do all the planning and coordination for once! It absolutely defied expectation in the best possible way!

The washcloth danced up Alby’s thighs, outer and inner, and then brushed up against her privates.  “Gotta get this clean, too,” Daddy whispered. A playful razor had added to the timbre of his voice.

Alby exhaled and moaned at the wolf’s tender ministrations.  Daddy had already touched her down there when he’d changed her wet panties and changed her diaper.  He’d wiped her crotch and back side and gently moved her penis and testicals to powder them and make sure they were in a comfortable position prior to the diaper being fastened on. The coolness of the baby wipes and powder coupled with Alby’s embarrassment to prevent full physical arousal. Daddy’s not quite clinical tenderness and the swiftness with which he worked also helped.  

Naked, and in a nice warm sweet smelling bath, with Daddy caressing and massaging every ounce of Alby’s body and deliberately taking his time to do it, changed things considerably.  “Oooooh, Daddy…” she enunciated around her thumb.

“You like that?” the wolf asked.

Alby nodded mutely, keeping her thumb in her mouth.

“I know,” he chuckled. “Baby girl was already sticking straight up when I got to this part.” He grabbed her and squeezed, making her inhale sharply and suck even harder on her thumb. “Do you want this, Princess?”

“Yesh…”

“Okay, baby girl,” Daddy told her softly. “Just close your eyes. Think about whatever you want to think about. Let Daddy do all the work.” Music to her ears. “The only rule is that when you cum, you say my name. You say ‘Daddy’.  Do you understand?”

Alby replied with a trance-like “Mmmhmmm.”

Good enough.  

Daddy gripped her and started to pump, his grasp firm yet giving, so his curled fingers slid gently up and down the tip of her princess parts.  Alby rocked her hips gently in the water, pushing back and adding just the right amount of friction.

“Such a good little helper,” Daddy cooed. “Trying to help Daddy play.”  

She felt the gentle, tickling pressure build up inside her.  Felt Daddy’s steady heavy breath in her ear. She sucked her thumb harder with each stroke, the pressure building.  She started panting around as the pressure continued to rise, her hips thrusting and starting to churn the water.

“That’s right baby,” Daddy praised. “Just a baby girl bouncing on Daddy’s knee.”

Instantly the scene started to unfold itself behind her eyelids. She saw herself sitting in a wet diaper, and a pretty little dress that did nothing to cover said diaper, squishing on Daddy’s knee, grinding and humping him while he smiled down at her.

“Such a cute little girl.”

Alby didn’t even care that this was objectively weird.  It didn’t matter that anyone who saw what she was thinking would think it strange.  Shouldn’t she be fantasizing about having sex or something?  Not dry humping?  Was it even ‘dry humping’ if she was in a thick, bulging, sagging, drooping, crinkling, squishing, sopping wet diaper?


Oh…oh god. This was perfect. Her own personal definition was rapidly recategorizing itself.  This! This was her! A helpless, happy baby girl who wanted nothing more than to play and hump her Daddy’s knee.

The duck dropped down into the water. The thumb came out of her mouth. Her breathing became tiny breathy pants as the pressure built up inside of her. Any second now. Any second she’d cum and squirt into the water.

“Aaaaand that’s about enough,” Daddy said. His hand stopped and came up out of the water.  “Come on, Princess. Let’s rinse off.”

Alby’s eyes shot open.  What happened to the KA-BOOM? There was supposed to be an Earth shattering kaboom.  “What?”

“Bath Time's over.”  He took a large cup and dipped it into the tub.  “Time to clean up.”  

“But I wasn’t finished,” Alby whined.  If Daddy heard it, he only replied by drenching Alby in luke warm tub water to get the baby shampoo.out of her hair.  “Daddeeeeeeee!”

“Yes?”

“I wasn’t finished.”

“Are you not big enough to wait?” He asked.

“No.” she pouted.

“Can you not finish  by yourself?”

She tucked her arms underneath her pits. “Nuh-uh.”  She was done waiting. “Done!”

Daddy gave her a mean, nasty, look that was tinged with a smile.  “Then I’m sorry, sweetie. This is gonna be rough for you.”  He gave her the most chaste kiss and muscled her up into a standing position.  The fluffy towel removed the remaining bubbles but not the lust or the growing sense of dissatisfaction.

“Daddeeeee,” she whined pathetically.

“Just think of it this way,” he said. “It’ll feel so much better when it happens tomorrow.

************************
Alby sulked alone in her crib that night. She tossed and turned grumbling and whimpering, struggling with getting to sleep.  Daddy had dried her off and taken her straight to the nursery.  She wasn’t allowed to get out of the crib.  Daddy said she wasn’t allowed to cum without him either.

To make sure of that, he’d placed her in footie pajamas with mittens that bunched her fingers together.  Other than her head and her tail, every other inch was covered with fleece; just short of sensory deprivation.

Daddy had put her in an extra thick nighttime diaper with stuffers. Even through the baggy sleeper, one look at her waist would reveal the unmistakable bulk of babyish padding. She’d tried unsuccessfully to masturbate and hump her pillow, the thickness of the padding made her practically numb down there.  Wetting only increased the bulk and the need for release.

Alby was experiencing the full spectrum of the baby treatment. The wonderful feeling of being the center of someone’s world and having no responsibilities, and the agonizing, frustrating torment of being so helpless as to be at someone else’s whim for literally everything.  It was an acquired taste to be certain, but Alby despite everything, it was a cocktail more delicious than the strongest martini.

She did not lie awake in bed, for ‘lying’ implied stillness.  Laying on her backside made her feel unfulfilled with nothing but useless mittened hands to press against.  Her front side gave her only slightly more input.  The diaper was pressed and packed so tightly against her that there was no way to bump and grind or get any kind of pleasurable friction.  Lying on her side was right out; her thighs couldn’t touch.   

Were she standing, she’d be dizzy from how much she was spinning. Every shift made her hear the crinkle again and again, reminding her just how helpless she was.  Part of her wanted to misbehave so badly so Daddy would spank her.  The other part wanted to be a good girl so she’d get rewarded. Her lips pouted and sucked on her paci over and over again in frustration and indecision.  It helped her nervous energy, but just when she was about coming down, she’d remember what she was sucking on and how babyish she must look and the whole spin cycle would start again.

Footsteps came from the hallway.  A shadow blocked the light coming from the hallway.  Alby sat up and repositioned herself to her knees, her hands grabbing the crib railing.  “Daddy?”  Her tail wagged slightly, whisking the air with her longing, lustful energy.

The door swung open.  Alby squinted, her eyes not adjusted to the brightness outside the nursery.   A familiar silhouette took point in the middle of the doorway.  “Daddy?” came a familiar, disgusted voice. “Daddy?”

Alby’s tail stopped wagging.  She knew that voice. She knew it very well, and it wasn’t Max.  That wasn’t a wolf in the doorway.  

The lights flicked on. “Why are you calling me ‘Daddy’, Albert?” An older doberman, graying at the muzzle, walked into the room, dressed in a suit and tie.  Albert Madden Sr. had a face made of stone. His entire emotional range ran from mildly pleased, to stoic, to quietly scowling.  That was it.

Currently, he was scowling.  The old man looked around the nursery the way an old general looked at the newest batch of recruits.  He barely glanced at Alby.  “Pathetic,” he growled, his back to Alby.

“Dad?” Alby said. “What are you doing here?”

Her father did not turn around.  “What are you doing in that crib, boy? You some kind of invalid? Or are you a nutter like your great Aunt Flora?”  Despite the phrasing, nothing Albert Madden Senior had said was actually a question.  Nothing ever was with him.   Alby fidgeted at the sides, trying to remember where the latch mechanism for the crib was located. “Well?”

“I’m trying!” Alby yelped. “It’s just…”

“I didn’t ask for excuses, did I?”

“No, sir.”

“Then get out of there.  Men don’t sleep in cribs.”

Alby felt a panic.and started doing her best to fuck climb over the railing by herself.  The slightest shake of her father’s head, nearly imperceptible to most, felt like hundreds of tiny spies being driven into the back of her skull.  “Almost…almost…oooou!”  The crib railing gave out under her and plummeted several feet.  The impact was comparable to someone getting off a see-saw too quickly, but it was enough to cause the little doberman to roll off and tumble embarrassingly the rest of the way to the nursery floor.

“Get up.”  Dad sounded extra annoyed, but not surprised.

Alby obeyed.

Finally, he turned around and regarded Alby. His stare like a killer android scanning its target for weaknesses.  “How old are you, son?”

Alby gulped.  “T-t-t-twenty-five.”  Despite the phrasing, it didn’t sound like a question.  So many of Alby’s conversations with his father sounded like that.

“What are you wearing?”  Again. Not a question. More of a set up for a trap, as a lawyer does in a courtroom.

The little doberman turned his head towards the open door.  Where was Max?  This was his house. Why wasn’t he here?

“Got somewhere better to be, Albert? ”

Alby’s back stiffened and he whipped his head around. His father’s eyes seemed red all of a sudden; glowing like two lit coals. “N-n-no sir!”

“What are you wearing?” the older dog repeated.

“I’m wearing…um…pajamas.”

Dad’s expression didn’t change. But his fur took on an even darker hue, covering up the gray and brindle patches of his fir and muzzle.  It was as if the shadows still hiding in the corners of the room had come out and absorbed into the old man’s fur. “And?”

Alby flinched. “A…a…a diaper?”

Something was bubbling just beneath the surface of his father’s skin right at the neckline. A pimple or a wart forming in fast forward; one at each end. “And?”

Alby looked at his collar with the binky dangling from a ribbon. “A pacifier.”

The boils on Dad’s neck grew and blew up like balloons. Two piercing points of light blossomed from them, with a black hole pupil in the center.  Eyes, Alby realized. “And?”

The younger dog’s eyes darted down to himself.  What was left? What was he missing? “A stuffer…?”

The snouts and faces squelched and oozed into existence. Dad literally had three heads; one stoic, one mildly pleased, one quietly scowling. The condition didn’t seem to bother him and Alby was too frightened to bring it up. “The hell is a stuffer?” the scowling head in the center asked.

“It’s-”

“Nevermind,” the stoic head cut him off. “Not important.” He waved Alby’s incoming explanation away.  “Why are you wearing…that?”

Every cell in Alby’s skin lit on fire simultaneously.  “What do you mean?”

“You heard me, boy.” All three heads spoke in unison. The way they said ‘boy’ made the word sound almost like an insult.

Alby found himself at a complete and total loss for words. Dad knew something. Where was Max? He could try a lie, but he doubted it he could pull off the bluff.  Where was Max? He wouldn’t accept the truth. Where was Max?  A half truth, perhaps. Start off with the New Years party and massage things so none of this looked like his fault.  Where was Max?  

He was in full flight mode, and more than anything, Alby Madden Jr. wanted to get away from his father, get away from this godforsaken house and this awful nursery, these diapers and baby clothes, and his own fucking brain and body.

“I..” the little dog opened and shut his mouth several times, but no further words issued from his lips.  His face was wet before he knew it.

“Are you…?” The center head asked. “Are you crying?”

Alby sniffed. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“DO MEN CRY?” All three heads boomed.  

The heat on Alby’s skin increased.  There were no flames, but his clothes were on fire.  His crib was on fire! This room was on fire!  EVERYTHING WAS ON FIRE!  This was hell and the flames

“No…” Alby squeaked.  “Sorry!”

“STOP APOLOGIZING AND FIX IT!” They barked.

Alby couldn’t.  He just couldn’t. He had no control over himself in that moment. He couldn’t even live up to the simple expectation that he control his emotions.

“You know what?” the stoic head said. “Not important.”

Alby futile wiped away his tears. They did not stop, but he was cursed with a brief moment of hope. “It’s not?”

“Not at all.”  The mildly pleased father head said.  

Why was he so happy? Even bracing himself, Alby wasn’t ready for what came out of his father, next.

“You are such a disappointment, Albert.”  The stoic head declared. “The alcoholism I could tolerate, as long as it didn’t interfere with your work.  Plenty of functioning alcoholics out there.” The disgusted one’s lip curled a bit but it waited its turn.  “If you were engaging in regular debauchery outside of work I could have allowed it.  People have their vices.  But this?” he gestured to all of Ably. “This is such a waste. Such a disappointment.”

“I know.” Those were the only words Alby could think to say.  That and “I’m sorry.” Alby wanted to fall back into the crib and hide underneath the pillow. Pride and fear righted him.

“I didn’t raise you to be this,” the disgusted  face almost spat. “You were supposed to be better than this.  What the hell is wrong with you? Dressing like a little girl? Sleeping in a crib?  Grow up, Albert.”

“On the bright side,” the mildly pleased one said, more to himself than to Alby, “I at least know it’s not my fault.  I did everything right and you’re still a screw up.  Must be you.  Something from your mother’s side more than likely.”

Alby wanted to answer his father’s accusations, yet he had no way to rebuttal. “I’m sorry, Dad.” he yipped. “I’ll…get dressed and…”

“Don’t bother, Albert.” The stoic one said.

Its more pleased, smug counterpart threw in, “You’re not my concern, anymore.  I’m done.”

The heat on Albert’s skin was contradicted by the ice that had formed in his veins. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Madden, all three heads, sneered and walked straight up to Alby.  Were they growing larger? Or was Alby getting smaller.  Why was it so hot still? Why was it cold?  “I mean don’t bother coming back to work,” they said simultaneously.

“I’m-I’m-I’m…fired?” Ironically, Alby wasn’t exactly asking a question either.

“SHOULD HAVE INVESTED MY TIME SOMEWHERE ELSE,” all three heads boomed. They’d detached themselves and now surrounded Alby, giant and more monstrous by the second. Each one capable of devouring the boy in a single bite.  “MY SCREW-UP SON TURNED INTO A GODDAMN SISSY.”
*************************
“Hey,” Max whispered.  “Hey. Alby. Alby wake up.”

Alby felt someone nudging her shoulder. She shook herself awake like a lightning bolt had hit her and sprang up like she was being attacked, her arms swinging wildly, lashing out.

“Whoah, baby girl! Whoah!”  Max backed up, holding his palms out defensively.  “It’s just me! It’s just me!”  He made eye contact with Alby. “It’s okay. You were having a nightmare, Princess.  I heard you crying over the monitor.  I thought you were in trouble.”


The pair stared at one another for a full minute of silence while Alby huffed and puffed and tried to get control of his emotions.  “Don’t call me that!” Alby screamed.  His throat felt tight and raw like he’d already been screaming.  “I’m not your Princess! I’m not a girl! I’m not a fucking baby!”

It was just a dream, Alby knew, but dreams could be where we tell ourselves our deepest, harshest truths.

“Okay,”  Max said, taking a step back. “Okay. That’s fine. Do you need to cloudburst?”

“What?” Alby’s words came out screaming. Everything was a scream right now. Everything Max said sounded like it was being spoken through a filter.  “Cloudburst?”

“Safeword? Do you need to safeword?” Max said. “Do you need.to stop playing?”

“Yes!” Alby cried. “Fucking yes!”  Tears were running down his face. The state of his pillow indicated that they weren’t the first.  “Yes!”  He grabbed it, buried his face, and screamed wordlessly.

Max didnt move. Didn’t touch him.  Didn’t say anything.  Somehow to Alby that was worse than if he had.  To be fair to Max, if he had tried to offer any form of comfort.

Run. Time to run. Time to pack it all in.  Time to go and bury everything deep down.  “I gotta go,” Alby said. He practically leapt out of the crib and onto his feet.   “This. This isn’t right. I gotta go.  I need to leave. NOW!”

“Not like that you aren’t,” Max said gently.

Alby looked down at himself as if for the first time.  The things that had given him so much comfort felt smothering.  “My clothes. Give me my clothes.”

Max had yet to lower his arms.  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll give you your clothes back.  Just help me understand.”

“This is wrong!” Alby belted. “I’m wrong! I shouldn’t be wearing this! I shouldn’t be doing this. I’m fucking deranged! I’m broken!”

“Why?”  Coming from Max, it actually felt like a question. It was one he couldn’t answer.  How did one answer a question like that?  Couldn’t Max see how wrong this all was?  Wasn’t it all so self-evident?  Alby could see it clearly.  So could Dad if he was here.

“I…I…” Alby stopped short, his breath already hiccuping into sobs.  “I had a nightmaaaaaaaaaare!”  Having already dropped the pillow, he substituted and screamed into the palms of his hands.  “Please hold me,” he squeaked.  

The wolf was holding him in under a heartbeat.. He guided Alby to the crib and sat with him there in his lap, holding him and comforting him. “It’s okay,” Max shushed. “It’s alright. It was just a bad dream.”

“My Dad…!” the doberman choked.

“I figured,” Max said softly.  “You talk in your sleep.  Lemme guess? Dreamt you got caught.”

Alby was both mortified that he’d have to worry about that and relieved that he didn’t have to relive the nightmare in the retelling of it. “I’m sorry!”  

“Don’t be,” Max said. “You had a bad dream. It happens.  If it makes you feel any better, you’re not the first baby to have nightmares”

“I’m still sorry!”  Alby wailed.

Max rubbed his back. “Why?”
.
Alby howled. “I don’t knoooooooow!”  

They didn’t talk for a while.  Alby just kept apologizing for reasons he didn’t fully understand and Max held him and shushed him. Bounced him and adjusted him on his lap, like a fussy child. Alby was grateful for it and hated himself for the gratitude as well as the need for comfort.  

“I’m sorry” and “It’s okay” went around in an ouroboros until time ceased to exist.  Neither moved until their muscles were stiff.

“You’re father,” Max said.  “He really fucked you up, didn’t he?”

Alby had run out of tears by that point.  “Uh-huh,” he sniffed.

“He’s an asshole.” Max stated as plainly.  “He pays well. He’s an okay boss. But he’s an asshole.  And I’m sorry for whatever he did to you. Or what he didn’t do for you.  Whatever it was, you didn’t deserve it, kid.”

Alby pulled back from Max’s hug just enough so that he could stare up into the wolf’s eyes.  “Why not?”

“Nobody deserves to feel that way,” Max said.  “Certainly not a sweetie like you.”

“I’m a freak.” Alby said.

“Yeah?” Max said. “Well we’re all freaks, aren’t we?  Everybody’s a freak.”

“But if everybody’s a freak…no one is.”

His eyes teary, Alby still caught a wink.  “Exactly. You think you’re weird for wearing diapers? Imagine me. I’m the one that bought them and put them on you. How weird is that?”

Alby had nothing to say to that. His reply came in the form of stopping crying.

Max didn’t give Alby a chance to talk himself deeper.  “It’s late,” he said. “It’s technically tomorrow.  Let’s get you back to bed and get you some rest.”

“I don’t think I can,” Alby almost choked.

"If you want,” Max offered, looking into the younger man’s eyes,  “you can get changed and sleep in the guest bedroom? Would that be safer for you?"

Alby looked at him with utter disbelief. That wasn’t part of the agreement "W-what?” He sniffled.

Max gently rubbed Alby's arm and said, "This has been a lot for you today and if you think it's too overwhelming, it’s okay to back out.  You already safeworded. We don’t have to keep going.”

The doberman looked at him and said, "You won't be mad if I want to be big?"

Max looked at the younger man on his lap and smiled and said with gentle reassuring words, "Alby I want you to be comfortable and feel safe. If you want to be treated like an adult, I won't be mad."

“Or disappointed?” Alby asked.
“Not at all,” Max said. “Not. At. All.”

Alby looked down at the crib beneath him. It did look awfully inviting. And it’d be a shame to waste it over a silly dream.  His pajamas felt incredibly warm, like he was wearing a comfy blanket. His diaper  was wet but that was nice in a way. It would have been weirder were he dry. "Crib p-pwease."

“Pwease?” Max raised his eyebrows, smiling with his eyes more than his mouth.

“Yeah…”  

A pleasant chuckle came from Max and he slid Alby off his lap and onto the crib mattress. “Okay, Princess,” he said. “Let me tuck you back in. He helped lean Alby back onto the pillow and gave him his pacifier.  “You want some help getting to sleep?”

It took all the strength Alby had left to say, “Yes, pwease.”  

“Okay,” Daddy said. “Wait right here.” Despite it being a command, Alby did not bristle.  She wanted to be a good girl for Daddy. “I need to get something,” his voice was calm and gentle, an experienced caregiver lulling his baby back to dream town.

Daddy went to the chest of drawers and opened up the bottom drawer.  “Here we go.”  The thing looked kind of like a club mixed with a cue tip made entirely out of metal, rubber, and plastic. “Found it,” he said to himself.  He walked back over to Alby. “Can I check your diaper?” he asked Alby.

“Otay…”

Max gave the front of Alby’s diaper a pat and a squeeze. “Oh yeah, you’re wet enough.”  He noticed Alby’s questioning look.  “It’s easier to feel this when you’re wet.”

Alby still wasn’t fully comprehending.  “Feel what?”

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

The club switched on, the top of it shaking wildly to the point of blurring. “This.”

Alby’s eyes focused in concentration and widened in realization. “Oh…”

“What do you say we finish what we started in the tub?”

Alby clenched her mittened fist. “Promise?”

“It doesn’t stop until baby girl says my name,” he said. “I promise. I’ll help you make a special mess in your diaper, sing you a lullaby, and then kiss you goodnight.”

“Don’t leave!” Alby heard herself begging.  Without realizing it, she’d slipped off back into headspace. “Please don’t leave!”

“Okay. I won’t leave. Not until you’re fast asleep. And I’ll leave the rail down so you can come get me if you have another nightmare.  Okay?”

All of her skin tingled, just as much as it had moments before, but this was something better than fire. Something exciting, and pleasing. She could have powered the battery in Daddy’s vibrator with how she felt.  “Okay…”

“Okay what?”

“I don’t wanna say,” Alby blushed. “Or you’ll trick me like with the red jelly and end it ‘cause I said your name.”

The wolf smiled, pride flashing in his countenance. “Okay, Princess. Fair enough.  Start sucking on your pacifier and we’ll start.”

Alby took a deep breath and tried to banish the nightmare from the back of her eyelids.  She’d be adding something else to her mind, and something else to her pants in just a few minutes.  She closed her eyes and put her pacifier into mouth, humming and gasping with pleasure while Daddy went to work.

Daddy.

Not Dad.

Albert Madden Senior might have been his father, but Max Connors was her Daddy.