With Asher being in the group chat Chance invited me to join, I know that he’s definitely not going to treat Benji poorly. I only just met Anson and Bear very briefly, but if they are in Ash and Charlie’s circle, I doubt they’ll be any different.
“Hey,shhh,” I pull Benji in for another hug, rubbing his back to calm him. “I know I don’t know your friends very well, but a couple of them were diapered, honey. I think they will understand your headspace getting deeper unexpectedly.”
Because he was playing. He was happy and unguarded. He was with people he felt safe to be himself with. The whole situation makes even more sense now.
“No,” his voice is muffled against my shoulder, “I know they won’t wanna stay friends. I’m too naughty, or I’m too embarrassing.”
It takes me a moment to understand that this isn’t about the Littles I met tonight. This is about his previous friendships, or what passed for them, anyway. I grip him a little tighter, wishing the hug could convince him that those people from his past who made him feel bad for being himself were wrong.
“Even if you were deliberately bratting —which we both know you weren’t tonight— those Boys out there in the playroom would still want to be your friends because they like you for who you are, Benji. Warts and all.”
He scoffs, blowing air along the base of my neck.
“I am sure that they do,” I insist. I want to tell him that they were all worried to hear that he was upset, but I’m afraid that will only make him feel more embarrassed, and not in the way he usually enjoys. Instead, I settle for adding, “They seem like nice people, and they all just want you to be happy.”
“They’re too nice to wanna be friends with a troublemaker like me.”
Oh, there’s so much hurt to unpack there.
Unfortunately, this isn’t the place for it, and I still don’t like the idea of having such an important conversation while he’s so deep in Littlespace.
“Well, you don’t get to decide that for them,” I tell him with an edge of finality. “So, you’ll just have to suck it up and let the nice people who want to be your friends be your friends…unless you really don’t want to be friends with them because you’re not comfortable.” Except, his fearful reaction only moments ago tells me that he does want to maintain the relationships.
Sure enough, he confirms my assumption by telling me, “I do wanna be friends.”
“And I promise they want to be friends with you, too, honey. So, let’s get cleaned up and we can see how you feel about playing again afterwards.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then he nods, offering a soft, sweet: “’Kay.”
And if I wasn’t already hung up on the memories of our time together at camp, that cute, quiet moment of vulnerability would have sealed the deal.
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 thatthisis 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 alittleLittle. 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.
