Let It Go

Chapter 8
Eight

“Nobody ever has to know you need to wear these.”

Trip has Joel’s ankles lifted into the air, a disposable diaper unfolded and sitting just off to the side. The older boy is wiping his friend down.

“Did I wet the bed?” Joel murmurs sleepily. The sensation of his ankles in the air as his genitals are cleaned is alien but not altogether unpleasant.

“You wet your training pants clear through, mister,” reports Trip. “I’m going to have to switch out your sheets so you don’t have to sleep in a cold puddle tonight.” When the wiping is finished, Trip slides the seat of the cushy white diaper beneath Joel’s butt.

Joel is a little embarrassed, but dismisses the feeling almost immediately. Peeing his pants had felt really good, after all-- and being wiped down in the relative darkness of the room was so organic and peaceful. He feels the thicker, even softer material of the diaper underneath him and squeaks, “Is that a --”

Trip leans down to Joel’s ear and whispers. “It’s our secret, is what it is.”

The older boy goes back up, squirting oil into his hands and rubbing it along Joel’s crotch and between his legs. The powder comes next, and in no time he’s massaging that in, as well.

Joel lays back, wide-eyed. He can’t believe he’s about to be back in diapers! The rush and warmth of being cared for just radiated through him with every caress. He pivots his head towards Trip as his dutiful friend performs his work.

“Trip,” he whispers, “can I tell you a secret?”

The older boy drags two fingertips down Joel’s inner thigh, finishing the task of coating all his buddy’s sensitive areas in protective product. “Absolutely-- you can tell me whichever secret, Joel. They’ll never leave this head.” He taps his temple with two fingers and giggles.

“I... I kinda like wearing nappies and Drynites,” whispers Joel, as if he were still capable of subtlety and such a thing weren’t completely obvious.

Trip smiles warmly. “The erection gave it away, but I’m grateful to you for saying so, anyway.” He pulls the diaper up between Joel’s legs and holds it to his tummy, taping up each side before tucking in the leg bands.

“Now,” Trip continues, lifting Joel into his arms, bopping his diapered butt onto his forearm and feeling his heart twitch at the inherent cuteness of his little friend’s baby powder scent, “I switch out the sheets. Won’t be long, babe.”

“Okay,” Joel smiles, swinging his legs to feel the diaper smoosh and crinkle between them. “Is it okay if I wear Drynites in the day, then?”

The boy goes on, pleased Trip’s accepted his secret so easily, feeling imbued with the liberty to take it further.

“And then if I had an accident sometime... except I did it on purpose?”

The expression on Trip’s face is glowing. He continues to hold Joel as he strips the bed of his friend’s accident and spreads new sheets over the mattress.

“Are you kidding?” says Trip. “I’d be thrilled to see you in little kid pants during the day, or at any time.” He nuzzles Joel gently as he tucks in the corners of the bedlinens. “And any and all so-called ‘accidents’ will result in diapers. Big, white, thick, crinkly ones. Sometimes a boy needs a little bulk between his legs.”

“Okay, then.” Joel watches Trip outfit his racecar bed with clean sheets.

Well, what else could I possibly want?

Joel snuggles against his friend, eyes shut.

Trip touches Joel’s face softly with two fingertips. “And the more you wet and mess, the more diapers you get. It couldn’t be simpler. And it saves you from having to relearn the potty, which I think is kind of an inelegant, stupid thing anyway.” He pats Joel’s diapered bottom and grins, then sets him down into the boy’s new sheets-- this time, the warmest, most comfortable flannel. “Grown-up stuff, you know?”

Trip returns the undamaged blankets to Joel, and then, the stuffed dog.

Sounds like a neat deal, the little boy thinks. “Okay,” Joel says, as he’s lowered back into the racecar bed and nestled within the new sheets. “‘Fanks, Trip.” He cuddles the dog again, drawing his knees to his chest outside the blankets.

Trip giggles in an infantile manner, uncontrollably, as his friend settles into his new existence, having been wrapped up in the most adorable of babyish garments.

“You’re welcome, Joel,” he coos. “If too much stuff lands in your diaper tonight, you know I’m just one shout away.” Trip means that literally as he lays out an impromptu bed on the floor... layers of blankets, just the right amount to keep comfortable. He never leaves a baby alone on his first night, no matter how old said baby is.

“Okay,” says Joel. And, since it felt so good the first time, the boy slips his thumb back into his mouth and resumes suckling. “Goodnight, Trip,” he slurs around his digit.

Trip feels his heart melt at the sight of his little dude sucking his thumb.

“Goodnight, Joel. Love you. I’ll be here if you need me.”

Joel drifts off again, diapered, bladder emptied, and fully rejuvenated.

The 27-year-old gazes up at his Joel... five years old again, sucking his thumb, a peaceful smile characterizing his face, not betraying a single care in the world. Trip’s so proud of him.

Trip rolls over, swaddles himself in his blankets, and pushes his thumb into his mouth. It’s beautiful to have friends who understand.

the end