Published: March 18th 2023, 6:32:40 am
"Wakey, wakey, little bro!"
I slowly come to to see Donovan straddling me, playfully patting my cheek.
"Ungh... get off," I say, drowsily, swatting at him and trying to shift. I immediately notice the huge bulk between my legs and the big weight on top of me as I try to move. Donovan doesn't budge.
"Not until you take your medicine," he says, holding up a bottle of something and a spoon.
"What is that?" I ask.
"Don't ask questions. Just be a good boy and drink it up."
"No way, bro. I don't trust you. Get off."
"Nope!" he says, smirking down at me. "You're not getting up til you do as I say. Now open up."
"No!"
A scuffle ensues in which I find myself forced to drink a spoonful of the icky medicine. I cough and gag, but he won't tell me what it was. Satisfied, he gets up off of me and allows me to stand.
"Oh man," I say, bow legged and looking down at the soggy mass between my legs. The diaper is absolutely soaked, but is well contained within my plastic pants. Pants which I have no hope of getting off until he lets me out of them. "Uh, big bro? Can I take these off now?"
"No," he says, crossing his arms. "I can take them off. And I'm not going to do so until you ask me for a change." I sigh and roll my eyes. We've played this game before.
"Big bro, can I get a change?"
"Nicely." There's a long pause as I look at him, but finally, I respond.
"...Please?"
"That's better," he says, satisfied. "Lay down on the bed. I'll take care of the rest."
Of course he will. He hands me a stuffed animal from home and gets to work. It brings me comfort and I find myself smiling a bit despite myself. I hate that I like being babied so much. And I'm especially embarrassed that I enjoy being babied by my younger brother. I fought it for so long but looks like I don't have a choice now. That almost makes it alright, right? No, this is too messed up. I begin to get squirmy as he wipes me down.
"Hey. Calm down, little wigglebean. Big Bro's trying to change you."
"Sorry," I grumble. The truth is most of my grumpiness is a front, but I still can't bring myself to be okay with this. That's why what he's doing is such a shock to the system. He seems to have totally accepted it, even more than myself.
"Well, you can't deny you're enjoying this little bro. The proof is right there between your legs. Oh, no need to look, it's nothing to write home about. But the little guy sure is excited."
"You know, I can use it. I'm not a virgin, big bro."
"Not anymore, kiddo," he says. "The only place that little soldier is going to see action is in the diaper where he belongs. Got it?"
"You can't do that," I say. "I'll just jerk off when you're not looking."
"Bold of you to assume you'll ever be out of a diaper when I'm not looking."
I scoff at him. "What?! But... I mean... What?!"
He just grins. "Well, let's go to the dining center for din dins then it's some cartoons if your'e good and bedtime. What do you say?"
"It's not even late."
"It is for little boys like you. Now let's get you dressed. I'm thinking the baby Toony Toons top and baby Wisney pajama bottoms." It's not a question. It's just a statement. The baby Wisney pajama bottoms have an all over print of little Michael and Mitty mouse characters in diapers sitting and playing with blocks. However, the cut is nice and wide in the crotch and at least the diaper isn't too, too obvious. It looks more like I just have a bulkier frame down there than the skin-tight popsicle sticks poking out of a pear look I had going before. I don't fight it. It's the best I'm going to get at this point.
Soon, we're on our way to the dining center, and when we get there, we see a group of friends already sitting down to eat.
"Hey guys," says Donovan, waving. "We're here!"
"Oh, good! Come on, join us," says Tony. "Want us to watch the baby while you're getting food?"
"Sure," he says, ushering me into a seat before taking off.
"Baby?" I ask, looking around. It only takes a second for me to realize they're talking about me.
"Yes, you. Don't worry, Donovan told us everything and everyone's cool with it. We all chatted about it in the group chat."
"Group chat?" I asked.
"Sorry, adults only," says Becky, giggling. I glare at her but she seems unfazed.
"Just what did he tell you anyway?" I ask, turning my attention back to Tony.
"Just that you've always needed diapers and that you really like to be treated like a baby. It's cool, man. I won't judge."
I cover my burning red face with my hands. I can't believe he told them that. While technically, it's totally true, it's also totally private. And I do like being an adult every once in a while too. Why couldn't this stay private?
Donovan returns with more drinks for me and instructs the others to make sure I get plenty of hydration. He lets them know that I'm well protected so I can drink up as much as I need to, then he's off to get us our food.
For the next several minutes, I'm encouraged to drink up as much as possible in a rather condescending way. It's almost like it's a game to them.
"Come on, kiddo. Drink to grow up big and strong!"
"Drink up Little Dicky! You need your wawas!"
"You can do it, little guy!"
Tony goes so far as to lift the class and tilt it for me, and I'm forced to swallow or end up covered in iced tea. By the time my dinner is here, I'm as full as a water balloon. Then I swee what's for dinner.
"Really?"
"You love grilled cheese," says Donovan, rolling his eyes as he puts the plate of juvenile food in front of me. "Now eat up."
"Is this how we're going to do every meal from now on?"
"It is unless you want to do the other thing."
"What over thing?"
"Oh, well, I guess if you agree to be supervised by the school, I wouldn't have to watch you so closely all the time." He says, throwing his hand out like it was just a passing thought.
"Yes. I want that." I say. I imagine it would just be a formality, maybe security could track me on CCTV or whatever, but they could track anyone anyway, right?
"Okay," he says, throwing down a piece of paper on the desk. "Fine. You win. Sign here and you won't have to be watched by your big bro between classes and at every meal."
Without hesitation I sign it.
"Thank you," he says, smirking and taking the paper back, tucking it in his pocket. "That makes my life a lot easier."
"What do you mean?" I ask, growing suspicious a little too late.
"Don't worry about it, kiddo. Eat up."