Chapter 14 Alex
1816 Words
It all happened so fast.
I was still reeling from Chad’s sudden transformation when
he helped me up and undressed me. As soon as I was down to my
diapers, he picked up the onesie on the bed and slipped its sleeves down my
arms until I was wearing it like a t-shirt. Then, he knelt in front of me as he
sticked his hand between my legs and reached for the farthest end of the
bottom part of the garment. His skin rubbed against my inner thighs ever so
smoothly. I felt the hair on his forearm glide over the surface of my lower
limbs like a paintbrush skimming its bristles on the canvass with the softest
of grace. He pulled the back end of the onesie until it met the front part,
easing them together with the three buttons that were there.
And while all of this was happening, I just stared at him, wondering if I
was awake or if I was merely dreaming.
It was just too good to be true. Chad was taking care of me. Again. He’s
back. My daddy’s back.
“There you go,” he said as he patted the area where the buttons met. That
made me wince a bit as he - inadvertently most probably - tapped my
midsection as well. It wasn’t because I was wary of his touch, no.
It was because I didn’t want him to notice my erection.
What he was doing wasn’t only making me feel safe and secure and
loved.
Strangely, it was also turning me on.
Chad stood up and held my nape. His other hand pushed my chest,
leading me to rest on my back in bed. I offered no resistance.
Then he lied down beside me.
We were both staring at the ceiling as quietness engulfed the room we’ve
been sharing for close to a month now. But there was nothing awkward about
that silence. It was a comforting kind of stillness, one that dispelled my fears
and my worries and my doubts, one that soothed my heart and my soul. We
didn’t talk. No words came out of our mouths. But we were together, and it
was all that mattered to me at that moment.
And then my tummy growled.
I realized that I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I received that F
paper before lunch and I felt so miserable about it that I didn’t even think
about the meals that I should’ve taken.
Chad noticed the rumbling sound from my stomach as well. He chuckled.
“Baby’s hungry, huh?”
I could only answer with a slight nod and a helpless frown.
“Well, seems like baby’s always hungry when daddy’s around,” he
commented.
Daddy.
He said it again, from his own mouth, from his own mind.
Daddy. He’s my daddy. He chose to be my daddy.
He stood up and searched the bed. He found the feeding bottle that was
there and picked it up. “This thing clean?” he asked. He turned the lid
himself, however, and lifted it up. I cringed as he began to smell it. The
stench made him gag. “What the f**k is tha-” he yelled before stopping
himself as he looked at me. His face showed contrition. “I mean... yowza!”
he blurted once more, this time sounding like one of the human casts in
Sesame Street. “What is that smell? Hmmmm. I think someone didn’t clean
up this bottle. Who can that someone be?”
I pointed at him as I giggled.
“Oh. You’re blaming daddy huh?” he responded, still cooingly.
And again, I just nodded, this time laughing a little louder.
“Well, I guess you’re right,” he admitted. “This is daddy’s responsibility
and he f****d u.... I mean... he forgot about it. I’m gonna fix this.”
Chad carried the bottle to the kitchen and began to wash it. He filled it up
with water, closed the lid, and shook it.
That wasn’t really how one should clean a feeding bottle, though. I
wanted to tell him how it’s done - that he should use a brush or at least
immerse it in boiling water for a few minutes - but I wasn’t in any position to
talk. In fact, I was afraid to talk.
He’s my daddy.
He’s treating me as his baby.
I didn’t want to change that, and speaking my mind like a grown up might
just ruin everything.
So I remained silent, curtailing my desire to tell him what to do,
cherishing every second of wondrous helplessness I was experiencing.
As soon as he thought that it was clean enough, Chad raised the bottle
against the light and observed it. He smiled victoriously. “Ha! That wasn’t
hard!” He proceeded with preparing my milk, something he was already
familiar with. He still had to remind himself aloud, though. “One scoop per
two ounces. One scoop, two scoop, three scoop and four scoop! There ‘ya go!
Perfect!”
Beaming with pride, he went back to bed. He lied down once more and
placed the n****e in my mouth.
I sucked on it a bit, tasting what he has lovingly readied.
It was bad.
It was so bad that I wanted to spit out what little liquid I managed to take
in. The tang of spoiled milk still lingered and so did its smell.
I had no recourse but to push the bottle away.
“Whoa! You don’t like daddy’s milk?” he asked, bewildered.
I fervidly shook my head while every part of my face remained contorted
with disgust.
“Did I screw up the mixture?”
I didn’t know how to tell him that he got that one right but he failed to
thoroughly clean the bottle. I didn’t want to talk. A baby like me couldn’t
talk, so I shouldn’t.
“Oh, you poor thing,” he nickered with remorse. “I’m really sorry...
daddy did a lousy job on your milky. But you have to drink it. We don’t this
baby boy to be hungry now, do we?”
That made me pout. I made sure he saw how upset I was that he wanted
me to finish that eewie milk.
` Yet, he still went on to offer it again, hovering the bottle just above my
lips.
I did what a baby had to do. I smacked it away.
I might’ve smacked it a little too hard, though, that the bottle went flying
off his hand and crashed on the hard floor.
He gave me a disappointed look.
I hated that look.
It made me feel so bad and discomfited and abashed.
I purled some unintelligible sounds to express how sorry I was for doing
that.
He was still frowning, still dismayed. “You know why daddy’s upset?” he
asked.
I just gave him a blank stare.
“It’s because daddy wants you to feed,” he proceeded to say. “You have
to feed on something. Being hungry ain’t good for a growing baby like you.
Do you understand?”
“Da da da da,” I prattled, wanting so much to assure him that yes, I did
understand, but I couldn’t express it in words for fear that I’d break character
and cause this moment - this wonderful, wonderful moment - to abruptly end.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he concluded as, finally, he smiled once again.
“Now, if you don’t like milk, what do you want to feed on?”
I fell silent as I thought about other alternatives.
Suddenly, he placed his hand over my cheek. His touch radiated with
reposeful warmth. He caressed the side of my face with affectionate
motions... slow, careful, gentle... like my skin was thin, fragile glass that he
didn’t want to break.
“Just tell me what you wanna eat, baby boy, and daddy’s gonna go out
and buy it,” he promised me.
No.
I didn’t want him to go out.
I wanted him to say where he was. I didn’t want him to stop what he was
doing. I didn’t want him away from my sight. I didn’t want him away from
me. Not for an hour. Not for a minute. Not for a second.
I wanted him with me. Forever.
“An empty tummy’s not good for a baby,” he harped on the point he was
making. “Tell me, please. What do you want to eat? Tell me quick so daddy
can leave and buy it.”
No.
No, no, no, no, no!
Daddy shouldn’t leave! Daddy should stay with me!
“Tell me, baby boy,” he continued to exhort. “Nachos? A Subway
sandwich? A burrito? Anything you want. Just tell me.”
No!
“Okay then, I guess daddy will just leave for a while and he’ll decide
what this baby wants, eh?”
Oh no!
Chad... Daddy... please don’t leave me...
I grabbed his arm to stop him just when he was about to get up. He turned
around and looked at me, still smiling as if he wasn’t taking my protestation
seriously.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “Daddy just needs to buy food for you. If
daddy doesn’t go out, what will you eat?”
I had no time to think about a logical answer. All I knew was that I had to
show him that I’d be okay and he didn’t have to step out of the apartment.
I didn’t think about what I did next.
I pulled his arm closer to me. His body followed suit. I held his index
finger and drew my mouth closer to it. I placed his digit between my lips.
It tasty a bit salty.
A bit tangy.
Completely addictive.
Then I sucked.
I sucked like his finger was the n****e of my pacifier.
I sucked and sucked and sucked, and my eyes never left his, wondering...
hoping... that he’d figure out what I was trying to say, pondering... praying...
that he’d enjoy it as much as I did.
His smile vanished as his mouth straightened into a stern line. The outer
edges of his eyebrows curved outwards as the inner parts met in the middle.
His nose scrunched a bit.
He looked mad.
Was he mad?
I swallowed some air to help me stifle the fear that was brewing in my
groin.
Stupid!
I was so damn stupid!
I wasn’t thinking! At all! How can sucking his finger tell him that I didn’t
need to eat anything and that he didn’t have to leave?
It was too weird an act... too suggestive... too perverse, even. Of course it
gave him the wrong idea!
I was so freaking stupid!
I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst.
- Writer
