Let It Go

Chapter 7
Seven

Joel feels perfectly little under the blankets, crossing his legs over each other, head lolling to the side, mouth open, on the dimmest, most relaxed level of consciousness. The childish blankets are so soft over his bare body. The racecar bed, with all its childish colors, is so perfectly concealing and feels nothing short of right. The smell of fresh sheets being tucked up to his neck carries him into dreamland as he clutches his new puppy pal.

As for Trip-- he wants to leave Joel alone so his friend can get some much-needed sleep, but he can’t help but stick it out a few more minutes, stroking the boy’s hair. Joel’s adapted so beautifully to his new life that it melts Trip’s heart in the best possible way. The caretaker resolves to hang around with his little charge until the trappings of a deep sleep have fully engulfed the little soldier.

Watched over and protected, Joel quickly falls back into a hazy cloud in his mind, wherein the last of his adult tendencies are cycling and being sorted out. He breathes out heavily, as though releasing them.

Trip coos softly to Joel as he strokes his friend’s hair. “No more job,” the older boy softly whispers. “No more writing. No more overthinking. No more philosophy.” A smile streaks Trip’s face. It is reflected in Joel’s. “Just you and me. No more trying to make other people happy. No more even having to bother going to the toilet. There’re plenty of diapers here for you, should it come to that. Just let is aaalllll go away, Joel. Trip is here to help it all go away.”

Somewhere in the corner of his mind, Joel detects a possible subliminal message in Trip’s words. The boy is in the alpha stages of sleep. He feels an urge he of which he simply isn’t aware at that point; after all, with his smaller body, his muscles are quite a bit underdeveloped. Joel settles on his back as the sensation grows stronger.

Trip keeps stroking the back of Joel’s head with supreme gentleness, pulling the blankets down just enough to see what his friend manages to do to the front of his Drynites.

“Aaalllll go away,” Trip repeats, almost hypnotically.

Joel inhales a sharp gust of air as a strange sensation overcomes him. His thumb wavers near his mouth. He’s gradually wetting the little diaper he has on, blissfully unaware, and oblivious to Trip’s watching him do it. The Drynite yellows and absorbs his accident. A perfectly normal thing for a five-year-old child to do, after all. Joel keeps sleeping as he wets himself.

Trip reaches down to his buddy’s hand. He guides the tip of Joel’s thumb to the boy’s lips as he pees his pants, brushing the digit against Joel’s mouth in offering.

The older boy smiles happily as he watches Joel peacefully drain himself into his baby pants. “You’ve started to let go already,” Trip whispers. “Adorable.” Trip slides one hand gently against the front of Joel’s training pants just to feel it grow warm, but is back to softly encouraging the boy to suck his thumb in no time.

Joel slips his thumb into his mouth and sucks gently. Warm urine is flowing through the Drynite, soaking first the front, then the underside in a trickle, then the bottom. The kid’s nappy does its job perfectly at first... but Joel turns out to be a heavy wetter. Just before his bladder eases up, he rolls over again -- this time onto his tummy -- and the last trickle of release soaks out of the Drynite and saturates the bed in a little dark puddle.

Trip concedes another “aww” as he watches Joel’s pee leak out of his pants and soak the fabric beneath him.

Joel stirs and, as he comes to, finds his thumb in his mouth. Slightly puzzled at first, he keeps sucking anyway, because it soothes him. Then the warmth all around his bottom and waist comes to his attention. Sitting up groggily, he reaches a hand down and feels the front of his Drynite -- soaked, yellow, and hot from his accident. His eyes widen slightly.

Trip sandwiches Joel’s hand between his own and the soaked underpants. The squish is audible. “Feel that?” he asks with a playful grin. “Doesn’t feel too bad, huh?”

Joel shakes his head in a daze, marveling at a sensation he’d long since forgotten.

“I think this little one needs to be changed into something just a tad more protective.” Trip rolls his little friend onto his back, pulling the soggy training pants down his legs and disposing of them when they’re off his feet. The Drynites had been so heavy with urine that Trip could barely grasp the idea that his boy could hold that much inside his body... but, then again, his boy didn’t manage to hold that much inside his body.

“That was definitely one historical wetting,” he smiles, grabbing a double-thick disposable diaper and some warm wipes from his bag of tricks.