Sissy Room

For the record, just had to go back to read this part again, slowly, and with intent to absorb it better.   You've done very well.

Congrats!  One year is quite an achievement!  All of us here in the year or years club welcome you fondly!

I finished my Christmas shopping on black Friday.  I got myself a fragrance thing on Saturday though.  

Max didn’t consider himself any kind of expert on relationships. Still, he’d been in enough of them to notice some patterns.  There was always the exploration and testing phase; two people finding out what traits and interests they shared or were complimentary followed by seeing what clashed and deciding whether or not it was a deal breaker.  Alby and he were well past that stage, even if it was a minor miracle that they’d managed it. Next came the ‘honeymoon’, when both parties were impassioned and excited, reveling in one another; and seeing each other fully as if for the first time.  As a Daddy, Max imagined it was a bit like having a newborn baby. It was exciting and rewarding, maybe even a little fun. Yes, babies are functionally just blobs that scream and poop all day, but some combination of socialization and instinct made it exciting at first.  Here’s this perfectly useless, harmless, needy thing, and you can give it what it needs.  So you don’t mind the midnight feedings and piles and piles of diapers and you do everything you can to make that little puffball blob happy that you get a rush from doing it. But… Eventually the novelty of parenthood wears off. Things become routine and from that routine excitement melts like candle wax into a puddle of banality.  There’s no sense of accomplishment in changing a diaper or giving a bath.  The late nights become routine to the point where you’ve got a show you binge while waiting for the swaddled little blob to drift off in your arms.  Your baby bag becomes a third hand and you no longer recognize your living room as anything other than a sloppy extension of your child’s nursery. Pint being, taking care of babies is fairly easy (from a purely mechanical perspective at least), and once the “newness” wears off- once the fear of fucking up has faded and the thrill of success has been submerged by routine- the honeymoon is over.  That’s where the parallels tended to end, however. With an actual child, you’re still a parent. You can’t go out like you used to and you probably don’t have the money, time, or energy if you did.  There’s this tiny person you helped bring into the world and they are going to be part of your life forever no matter what. Real babies didn’t have a choice about staying in relationships with their caregivers. And if there were better things out there in the world for them- better caregivers, or more stimulating or sophisticated experiences- children that young are unlikely to know it or even conceive of such a thing.   By contrast, adult babies could walk away. Find new interests. Get bored.  When a child outgrows their parents’ care it is considered a success. When a little outgrows their Daddy, it feels like a failure.  He couldn’t meet their needs or they couldn’t meet his, and it just sucks for everybody.   They’d part amicably, always. There’d be a hug, a handshake, maybe one less peck on the lips, or even just a knowing smile and nod, but ‘Goodbye’ would always come.  Some would roam far away, going onto another stage of their life. Others he’d run into at a local dungeon or club, and they’d warmly regard one another. It never ended badly, per se. But it did end.  It always ended. And it didn’t bother Max; not when they could see him. It just was what it was, and they couldn’t meet one another’s needs.  But if any of his exes had magical crystal balls, they’d know that the big wolf always bawled his eyes out the first night after a breakup. Breakups felt like a painful facsimile of losing your kids in the divorce and knowing for a fact that they didn’t want to see you.  Twice the heartbreak with half the people. In Max’s experience, the honeymoon phase forked into one of two directions.  The first track was one of comfort and familiarity.  After the initial catalyst, changes are made and gradually a kind of homeostasis is reached. On a molecular level, baking a loaf of bread is a titanic and irreversible event on par with the big bang.  But at the end of the day you still take it out of the oven and are left with something common and comforting and homey.  Yes, bread isn’t very exciting, but you don’t realize how much of it you eat until you’re cutting that first bunless burger and having second thoughts about that diet. The other track was malaise and ennui. Things would get boring. They’d get in a rut. Both participants would stop existing in the moment while just going through the motions.  The attributes that had excited them became monotonous, and gradually it dawned on them that while there certainly weren’t any deal breakers with regards to personal chemistry and interests, there still wasn’t enough to sustain the relationship.  Someone must’ve forgotten to add in the yeast or something. It had been a little over a month since ‘The Thing With Howard’ had happened, and things had been smooth sailing at work. Too smooth.  Alby was turning his competitive energy into efficiency and the office was turning into a smooth Swiss watch.  Good thing, too.  Spring had sprung and testing season was around the corner.  That meant that it was crunch time for teachers and that meant it was time to sew the seeds and acquire new customers. What better time to tempt administrators and tell them you had a better and easier way to help their staff meet testing goals? This meant that for the majority of their waking hours, they were both firmly in ‘Alby and Max’ territory and not ‘baby and Daddy’ mode.   Yes, Max still tucked Alby in every night, either in person or by phone. Yes, Alby was particularly brave and managed to be padded up at the office, every day. (Yes, it was training pants, but the shenanigans with Howard still had Alby more than a little shaken.)  Yes, they still kissed, went out to dinner together, and even did some decidedly ‘mature’ activities.   But Alby never used said training pants or needed a fresh pair while at the office. Diapers outside of one of their homes was out of the question. And their dinners inevitably devolved into office talk.  And all of the other stuff -the wholesome and naughty aspects- felt rushed and empty.  It was as if both the little dog and the Daddy wolf were the parents, and their newborn child was their relationship. Sleep was becoming more valuable than sex. Fun was measured in minutes, not hours, and actions were taken as a matter of necessity and not enthusiasm.  The passion was just fading.  The question was ‘What would be left after the heat was down to a low simmer?’.  Were they almost comfortable with one another?  Or were they in a rut? Max was beginning to worry that he knew the answer. He’d tricked the little dog into diapers to begin with. What if Alby was just going along to humor him? Would he ever get another full day babying and coddling her?  Conversely, what if the only interests they had in common were kink and work?  Could that really last?  Could Max, old soul that he was, really date someone who’s baseline entertainment was action figures and anime? Max was determined to find out.   It was a Saturday. They were at a flea market; a concept that was explained thusly: “The fuck would you wanna buy fleas for?!” “Hm? No, it’s just a name. It’s like a giant second hand store or garage sale.”    “Garage? Sale?” Alby understood the concept immediately, but the idea of people re-selling their old things seemed almost alien to him. It was a stark reminder of just how cloistered Alby’s (first) childhood had been. Max loved trolling the market stalls, eyes peeled for a bargain. He’d found several pieces of furniture here that featured prominently in his living room. They’d been beat up when he’d found them but sanding them down and restoring them had been fun projects.  He’d also gotten good deals on sporting equipment.  Half the clubs in his golf bag were from here, as was his favorite tennis racket and a pair of skis.   It gave Max a sense of accomplishment whenever he ventured in with nothing and left with a deal. He could afford brand new stuff, but that wasn’t the point.  The point was the thrill of the hunt; the prowling through booths and bins and finding something truly interesting among the junk. Hunting by proxy of capitalist consumerism. This time he was out with his cub. Trying to teach the pup how to hunt.  Hoping that he wasn’t just being humored. “What do you think?” Max asked.  The doberman scanned the busy, unpaved dirt paths. He was taking in each stall, one at a time the way a plebian might look at a work of art. Nothing was catching his eye as much as he was training his eyes to blindly skim the details in front of him.  He was more interested in appearing to examine the sites and sounds before him instead of actually examining them. Inwardly, Max scolded himself.  He should have made today a baby day and snapped his puppy princess into a onesie, not dragged her here.  Alby probably felt like he was being brought along on a boring errand. The way her ears were wiggling and her jaw constantly shifted hinted that she was yawning with her mouth closed. Something caught the wolf’s eye. The glint of shining plastic and tiny figurines casting tiny shadows on the table. Max pointed to a middle aged rabbit standing guard over a menagerie of toys. Some of them looked like the style of model robots posed on Alby’s bedroom shelf, (what were they called again? Gun-Dams?). “What about over there?” Alby jerked his head in that general selection. A moment later his whole body shifted, and he started to approach the bunny’s booth with a genuine cautious curiosity.  The way he walked, with his head leading the rest of his body, Max wondered if the little doberman was purebred or whether there was a touch of bloodhound in his family tree. “Hmmmmm,” Alby mused and stroked his chin, examining the action figures. “Got it, got it, got it, no thanks, nuh uh, not my thing.”   Max felt a punch in the gut. Both because this stall was another dead end and Alby was being rude. “Alby…” he hissed out a warning. “Sorry,” Alby blushed, remembering his manners. The rabbit running the stall didn’t seem all that put off. “I’ve got plenty of retro video games, too.”  He thumbed over to a medium sized display made of chicken wire and hooks, each one containing a tiny plastic bag with the cartridge for some old and out of date digital amusement. Alby’s eyes lit up and his tail wagged hard that if he’d been properly diapered, he would have crinkled for all the market to hear. “Ooooooo!”   Max allowed himself a smile when Alby’s attention lasted past the thirty second mark.  “Super Guitario?! Quadris? Space Stoat 64?!  I haven’t played any of these in forever!” After two minutes of window shopping, several cardboard boxes caught Max’s attention. He knelt down and upon closer inspection realized that the box was filled with old comics; plastic sealed and cardboard backed.  On the front of the box was “$0.50 each.”  Max riffled through the books, skimming through the comics. He wasn’t particularly interested in buying any of them, but he felt it polite to at least seem interested in shopping.  And no, Max did not consciously recognize his own hypocrisy. He turned his head, wanting to keep an eye on Alby.  Alby was still by the old video games, but something else had stolen his attention. Independent of his body, his head had swiveled nearly a hundred and eighty degrees pointed at another booth across the way. Max followed Alby’s gaze and settled upon an old lady squirrel selling knitting and sewing supplies. Of note were the old fashioned dressmakers’ dummies and their old-timey clothes and several massive wicker baskets filled to the brim with yarn balls. Leave it to a dog to get distracted by a squirrel. “See anything you like?”  Max called over. Alby shook and startled as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.  “Hm? No. Not really.”  He turned back to the games.  “I’ve got plenty of tennis balls and yarn balls probably aren’t that much fun anyways. More of a cat thing, I think.” “We can find out,” Max offered. Alby shook his head so fast that his ears made little flapping noises. “No thanks.”  He raised his paw and waved the rabbit over.  “These are all great. Do you have any of the systems that go with ‘em?” The rabbit shook his head, frowning slightly.  “Sorry. No. You gotta get that somewhere else.” “Somewhere here?”  Alby’s tail wagged slowly and hopefully. The rabbit shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe. Probably not. Sorry.” Alby hung her head and sulked. “That’s okay…” “We can order the right nintendo or whatever offline, can’t we?” Max suggested. “Yeah,” Alby pouted, “but we can also get most of these games online, too?” Max grimaced, but agreed. The fun of the flea market was in the unknown, not the convenience. Every bin was a bargain and every purchase was a guilty pleasure impulse buy.  “Point taken.” Alby trotted over to Max. “What are you looking at?” Max glanced down at the comic in his hands.  “Barkley Comics.” “Barkley?” The cover depicted the titular Barkley, a golden retriever, sitting in an old 50’s style diner, sipping on a milkshake.  Across from him were two smitten lady cats. They were sipping from the same milkshake as Barkley, three straws stretching out into one central glass. Max tried to remember everything he knew about the comic. “This is Barkley, and the two cats are Kitty and Harmonica.”  He pointed at the orange cat and the black cat respectively.   Alby pondered a minute. “Didn’t they make a teen drama horror show about this?” “No clue. I think this is more of a slice of life romantic comedy love triangle situation. Both of them love him or something and they’re either best friends or fighting over him and he’s either oblivious or put into a tight spot having to choose one. “So it’s like a harem manga?” Max had no clue what a ‘harem manga’ was, but based on what he knew about those two words he took an educated guess.  “I think Barkley might be the original American harem manga.”  Those were words Max never expected to say in that order. Alby stepped closer.  “Yeah?” He lowered his voice so that only Max could hear. “Do you think maybe we could read them together?” Even softer. “Daddy?” The wolf cocked his head to the side.  Barkley comics? That wasn’t really his thing but… But he knew that Alby liked anime and manga, and Alby knew Max had a soft spot for this place. This was Alby trying to meet him halfway. Maybe the way forward was by forging new hobbies and activities to share together. And Alby wanted to use this as a story time activity. Maybe something for bedtime?  Max pictured himself reading to Alby, in full baby mode, pointing at the pictures and doing different voices for each of the different characters. That could be really cute!  And reading what amounted to a teen rom com/soap opera would certainly be novel compared to the usual library of Mother Goose and Brothers Grimm. As a Daddy, Max could recite those old yarns in his sleep.  Reading stories in silly comic books that he hadn’t recited at least a hundred times could be a welcome addition to his usual repertoire. “Okay,” Max said, finally.  “But you have to do one thing for me.” Alby had been staring at the yarn balls again. He whipped his head around.  “Yeah?” Max leaned in so his snout was directly in Alby’s ear.  “You gotta ask me real nice. You gotta say ‘Pretty please, Daddy, with sugar on top.” Alby quivered in delight, and blushed so much that Max could feel the warmth radiating out from his entire body.  “Does it have to be loud?” “No, baby girl.”  Max promised. “Not this time.”  He took Alby’s chin in his hand and grinned. “Not this time.” “Please…” Alby’s eyes darted left and right, but her voice squeaked and her expression brightened.  She didn’t look scared as much as thrilled that she was getting to do something the grown-up part of her might consider ‘naughty’ or ‘indignified’. Based on the front of Alby’s pants, the dog was either very very excited, or had really had to pee.  Maybe both? Puppy was coming out to play. “Pretty please, Daddy. With sugar on top?” This was the thrill of going to the flea market.  Finding the unexpected purchase, or the new button to push.  They went back to the car with an entire stack of the old out of print books.  Best twenty dollars Max had ever spent.  ****************************************************************************************************** One Week Later… This was a brilliant idea. Alby was sure of it. And this time he was completely sober. Yes, he had once again driven to Max’s Farm House in the dark of the night uninvited. Yes, Max was going to be woken up in the middle of the night and not have any idea what is going on.  Yes, there was considerable (some might say foolhardy) risk involved.  But this was going to work. This really was the perfect plan. Inspiration had blessed him with its caress the other week at the flea market. While Alby had been perusing the video game selection, something just out of the corner of his eye nabbed his attention.  There’d been a booth full of antiquated clothes and sewing supplies. What had really caught the dog’s attention was the wicker basket. It looked exactly like the kind that little orphan waifs got abandoned with in cartoons, but bigger. Cartoons like the kind Max probably watched as a kid. The idea burrowed itself deep into Alby’s brain and grew and bloomed until Alby couldn’t sleep that night. He’d gone back the next day, found the same elderly squirrel lady and offered her far too much cash for it.  The old woman took the money on the condition that he also select something else for free. That’s when the pure white nightgown hanging from a rack caught his eye.  It was a smock of a dress that would hover just above his toes and hang from almost anyone like a popped balloon.  If someone ever did a gender swapped version of A Christmas Carol, this nightgown would be what Ebonezia Scrooge wore while being haunted. It was good. Very Good.  The Easter Bonnet  he spied on a nearby hat rack made it even better. “Excuse me,” Alby had bashfully asked. “Do you have something like this, but pinker? And more…frillier?” The granny squirrel, content to sell from her rocker eyeballed the hat and seemed to concentrate.  “Shorry, shunny,” she’d replied over buck toothed dentures. “‘Fraid not. But I can make a baby bonnet that size if you want.” Alby’s tail had stiffened and his ears went back.  Goddamn it, was he that obvious? “A baby bonnet?” “That’sh what you deshcribed.” Shit shit shit shit shit. “It is?”” The squirrel grinned back at him, playfully. “It’d look rediculoush on a regular shized baby, but I think it’d fit you jusht fine.” “It’s for a costume contest,” Alby lied. “Sure it ish, dearie,” he remembered the squirrel lady winking back. “I’ll have it ready by Saturday.”  And that was the end of the matter. Keeping the secret all week had been more taxing than he could have imagined. Funny, considering how long he’d hidden certain things from…well…everyone. As it turned out, it was harder keeping secrets when you had people you actually liked talking to. Presently, Alby was tenser than anything. Perfection or not, excited or not, Alby; couldn’t help but feel nervous.  He was already dressed up in the Victorian style baby gown, his bonnet on the passenger seat beside him.  It would be just his luck to get pulled over. Imagined embarrassment wasn’t the only reason he sat uneasily. To complete the look, Alby had opted for cloth diapers. He’d gone a little overboard on the layers and needed a couple extra safety pins, but he thought he’d done a good job overall.  All the extra bulk beneath him made him feel as if he were sitting an inch taller with a couch cushion between his legs.  Alby kept himself from spiraling down into a pampered puppy princess because of that physical and emotional uneasiness. That and he really had to pee. Some people couldn’t walk and chew gum. Alby hadn’t yet mastered the art of peeing while driving.  Alby idled the last hundred feet before Max’s farmhouse all the way down the driveway to the front of the house.  Alby parked and opened his car door right before he cut the engine. He held his breath while digging out the basket, pillows and blankie from home.He wouldn’t even allow himself to close the car doors for fear that even a sudden thumping shut or a quiet click amongst the crickets would wake Daddy Max from his slumber and spoil the surprise. He allowed himself to breathe while he tied the bonnet on his head; that wouldn’t make too much noise.   He tip-toed across the lawn and onto the front porch, placing his big baby bed at the doorstep. He almost panicked when the lights flickered on, but remembered that Max had put them on a motion detector.  It was a good thing Max did, too. Alby had pinned a large note on one end of the basket. "Dear sir,” it read, “Here is a sweet but naughty little one who is looking for a big strong Daddy to care for her, keep her safe, to teach her, and most importantly give her love. Please, find it in your heart to be that Daddy.”  If Alby had set the scene in the dark, the basket would be facing the wrong way. Alby placed the basket and fluffed the body pillows used as cushions and flapped out the blanket and placed the pillow for his head in the right spot. Alby accidentally stopped blinking. Both the scheming adult part and the naughty little girl part of him were excited about what was to happen and bleeding into each other like a setting sun and its reflection on the ocean.  It was Alby the office worker who rang the doorbell twenty times, but it was Alby the little pup who was trying not to giggle underneath the basket blankie.  She had to tuck her feet in to fit all the way inside the basket. It was much bigger than a regular basket, but smaller than a kiddie pool. She made a kind of ‘W’ with her body, propping herself up on her pillow so she could see past her knees.  She stuck her thumb in her mouth and started sucking to stop herself from giggling too much. Rapid thudding footfalls and creaking floorboards snapped her to attention. Alby held her breath again. Here it came! The big reveal was nigh! The front door swung open. There stood Daddy, shirtless, bleary eyed, and in hastily put on wrinkled pants. “Hm?” he grunted. His eyes fell upon Alby in her baby basket. Alby wanted to yell ‘SURPRISE!’ but her voice caught in her throat at Max’s stone faced glare. That was when Alby realized that he’d royally fucked up. Max was a Daddy! Daddy’s were all about control. Pulling this stunt in the middle of the night and demanding roleplay was the exact opposite of what he’d want.   And he’d been so sweet, too! He’d gone out on a limb by opening up and going to the flea market with Alby! And he read Alby bedtime stories and bought those cute comics for him.  Alby would never have read them otherwise, but it was really sweet of Max. It was the first step to making something their thing. And how had Alby thanked Daddy?  With this! Showing up unannounced and practically screaming out ‘MORE! MORE! MORE!’. “Wait here,” Daddy said, his voice scratchy and dry. He disappeared into the darkness of the house, leaving the front door open. Alby stewed in misery, dreading the punishment that was about to befall her.  Part of her liked the spankings and timeouts. Even when she was being “punished” in a “fun” way she felt she benefited from it. But only when she was being bad on purpose! She hadn’t meant to make Daddy mad this time!  She was trying to be good! Honest! Daddy came back holding a black rectangle.  “Forgot my phone,” he said in a quiet voice and took a picture. “This is just too adorable.” A humongous snarl of a grin broke out over the little doberman’s face. Happy tears threatened to spill out and run down her muzzle. He loved it! He really loved it! Daddy pocketed his phone. “Let’s get you inside.”  Instead of bending over and offering his hand to help Alby up, Daddy stepped out into the porch, grabbed  both ends of the basket, and deadlifted Alby off the ground and carried both basket and baby across the threshold. If there were any parts of Alby that thought of themselves as anything other than a baby girl, they were presently withered husks buried deep inside the dog’s psyche. “Will you be my Daddy?” she asked “Yes, baby girl.” Daddy replied, his teeth grit. A beat later he groaned. “Okay, this was a bad idea! Time to go down.”  Even with the warning, Alby let out a surprised gasp with how quickly she was dropped. For a fraction of a second she was in freefall before Daddy put on the brakes and eased the last inch. She suddenly had to pee a little less… Alby climbed up out of the basket and dropped the blankie; letting Daddy see her new outfit for the first time. The big wolf’s jaw dropped. “Oh! My! God!” he laughed with delight. “You are such a cutie!” He dug his phone out of his pocket and took another picture. “Turn around! Turn around! I want to get a picture of it all!” Alby positively twirled and felt herself relax and swell with pride at the same time. “I wanted to look like the cartoons,” she explained.  “I can see that!” Daddy beamed.  He started taking more pictures.  “Oh my goodness, where did you get this?” “The flea market.” Daddy looked up past his phone. Now it was his turn to get teary eyed. “Really?” He looked back at the basket and answered his own question. “Squirrel!” Alby blushed and started nomming on her fingers just cuz’.  She was the happiest orphan in the world. Better yet, she wasn’t an orphan anymore!  Daddy wrapped his arms around her and gave her a soft, tender hug. “I’ve never been so happy to be woken up in the middle of the night. Thank you.” Alby laid her head on his shoulder. “You’re welcome.” “I was worried that you were getting overwhelmed with this stuff.” “I was worried that I was asking too much.” “Of course not.” “Never.” “I love you.” “I love you, too.” And for just a moment, all was right with the world. Alby’s ears perked up. A faint drip-drip-dripping sound was coming from the hardwood floor. Then some on her right knee.  Then her left thigh.  It was hot but it quickly turned cold and then snaked its way down to her ankles.  “Uhhhhhhhhaaahahahahaaaaaaaah,” Alby squirmed and wriggled out of Daddy’s embrace and scurried backwards as if her legs were swarming with fire hands. Horrified and confused, she lifted up the hem of her gown to see where this unpleasant sensation could be coming from. “Uh oh,” Daddy observed. “That’s a leak.”   A leak? How? Alby was wearing her diapers like a good baby!  She’d been so relaxed that she hadn’t realized she was wetting. Daddy’s eyes first went to droplets on the floor and made their way up to Alby’s waist.  “Is that a cloth diaper?” He let out a loud guffaw and started slapping his knee, bent over from laughter. Alby still, frozen in her embarrassment and trying to keep her nightie clean and above the failed diaper.  “What?” Alby demanded to know. “It’s a diaper!” “You forgot the plastic pants, baby girl! Without those you leak.” “What?! Those weren’t in the cartoons!” Daddy came and took her by the hand.  “Poor little girl. Doesn’t understand the difference between cartoons and real life.” Alby forgot her embarrassment for a moment and let herself melt a little more. Together, they gingerly went up the stairs towards the nursery. “Come on, soggy britches. Let’s get you cleaned up and crinkly.” “Yes, Daddy.” “You’ve got a lot to learn.” “Yes, Daddy.” “And potty training clearly isn’t on the syllabus this year.” “Yes, Daddy.”  She looked back over her shoulder, worrying about the leaky mess. Daddy saw the concern. “Don’t worry. We’ll clean up the dribbles after we get you dry and powdered.” The little girl didn’t like the use of the word ‘we’ in that sentence, but it was Alby’s fault for diapering herself.  “Can I close my car doors, too?” They stopped just outside the nursery. “Huh?” “I left them open because I didn’t want to wake you before the surprise.” For some reason, Daddy thought this funny. All you said in reply was “You…you what?” Before he started doing a hyena impression. He laughed so hard that he had to lean up against the wall to stay standing. Alby blushed, but kept a lazy, goofy smile on her face.  Paradoxically, she was both very embarrassed and felt very silly while also feeling strangely proud of herself.  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Daddy managed to gain control of himself. “It was, baby girl. It was. Now let’s get you changed and put to bed.”  

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