Boden squirmed impatiently in his highchair as his daddy set about warming jars of baby food. The broad-shouldered, rosy-cheeked, handsome young man sported only a diaper; the front of which was adorned with vibrant pictures of baby animals and a yellow bib which read ‘Daddy’s Little Stinker’ below a picture of a cartoonish teddy wearing a diaper. The waterproof foam seat crackled beneath him and his diaper rustled and crinkled as he wriggled. From all the noise, his daddy was well aware of the situation without needing to turn away from his vital pre-dinner tasks.
“Stop fidgeting Boden or daddy is going to get cross.”
In his highchair, which was sturdy white and blue wood with a large plastic tray securely confining its occupant within it, Boden huffed and folded his arms in an overdramatic mope. It was a customary routine of his at dinner time and his enduring daddy was already making his way toward the highchair to pick the large baby blue pacifier off the tray table and place it into his sulky boy’s mouth. Boden sucked the pacifier loudly, over exaggerated nursing displaying his stroppy contempt at the indignity.
Since they had met online, Shelton had played an especially parental role to Boden. They were mutually interested in age play and diapers and although both would typically switch between caregiver and little roles readily, Shelton knew immediately that he wanted utterly to care for Boden exclusively. Although not usually assertive or dominant; Shelton saw in the striking, blond-haired man a juvenile innocence and excitement that he’d wanted to protect and swaddle everlastingly.
Boden loved to be babied and since moving in with Shelton two years ago, had been treated every bit the toddler, unremittingly. He had, all perfectly made and manufactured for a man his size, his own nursery; with a crib, changing table and playpen; his own stroller; his own car seat and a wardrobe absolutely brimming with diapers and outfits a toddler might wear. His life really was that of a two year old. Something Boden had imagined would never likely happen, a fantasy he assumed would never be fulfilled.
This, however, was also what made Boden hate mealtimes. He felt exceedingly contented with the life he had been provided by his daddy but conversely missed certain simple, mundane capacities of being a grown up. These are matters most people would take entirely for granted, generally, but Boden felt aggrieved by having been denied the permission and privilege of doing these straightforward things.
One such task was feeding himself without assistance. Since Shelton had begun to baby him; Boden had been spoon fed every meal and bottle fed every drink. Once, his daddy did let him feed himself spaghetti with his fingers but he’d made such a mess of himself and his highchair that Shelton thought it best not to let him attempt that again.
“All ready for numnums baby?” Shelton singsonged happily as he turned from the counter with four large jars of carefully warmed baby food and a colourful plastic spoon. Boden rolled his eyes exaggeratedly; his daddy was perpetually embarrassing. “Let’s see if you can manage to eat more than you get down you today!” This elicited another eye roll, now accompanied by an exasperated groan as well.
Setting the jars carefully down onto the tray in front of Boden, daddy twisted open the lid on the first jar and taking a small spoonful from it double checked the temperature against his own lip. “Mmmm, yummy pureed spinach and beef to start off today, by the taste of it.” He turned the jar to confirm from the label that he was indeed correct and once his assertion was confirmed, satisfied and prideful of his identification, he smiled and nodded to no one in particular.
“Can we just get this over and done with already Shelton?” Boden brusquely stropped.
Shelton was barely able to contain a smirk at the bad tempered big toddler sat in front of him and how adorable he was slurring his words around the bulb of his pacifier. He managed to withhold his amusement sufficiently to muster a stern frown.
“Boden, if you do not address me properly I’ll pull you out of that highchair and put you over my lap.” Boden huffed again but begrudgingly conceded defeat. Although comparable in size to his daddy he knew all too well that Shelton was more than capable of lifting him out of his seat and knew all too well how sore his bottom could be made to feel with a sound spanking.
“Sorry Daddy.” He pouted petulantly as Shelton reached to remove the dummy from his mouth. Shelton had rapidly scooped a hefty spoonful of the soft paste from the jar and directed it toward his irritable little boy’s mouth. The pouting had not yet desisted and spoon collided with Boden’s face before he could open his mouth to accommodate it. When he had managed to eat the contents of the spoon and it was withdrawn to retrieve another portion from the jar he was left with the sticky paste spread from his chin to his nose.
Once the first jar was emptied they moved to the second without respite. This time it was pea and turkey. Despite the slight difference in colour; this bland gloop tasted remarkably similar to the first jar and Boden was sure that were the labels not different, he would not have even noticed the change had taken place.
By the end of the second jar Boden’s cheeks and bib were also covered in food as well as the tray in front of him. Shelton shovelled the soft puree from the jar and into his mouth too hurriedly for to be kept up with and this resulted in countless spillages. Boden was reasonably sure that this was in large part done on purpose. Although he didn’t like being covered in his food, even he appreciated how babyish it was and how cute it must look.
Halfway through the third jar, cauliflower cheese which did at least taste distinctly different to the first two, Boden felt the front of his diaper warming. Pee splashed out onto the padding and ran over his genitals and down to his bottom as he wet himself with no control. He looked down to see a growing wet spot expanding as the urine was soaked into his diaper. Shelton bent to peer under the tray as well and observed enquiringly as the wet spot grew to totally envelop the front of Boden’s diaper. Shelton smiled warmly as he returned from under the tray.
“Good boy Kiddo! You sure do know how to use your diapers!” His daddy’s enthusiasm and encouragement was infectious and Boden returned the beaming smile with a playful giggle. As much as he loathed mealtimes he adored praise.
After the third jar came dessert, in the form of rice pudding. This was Boden’s absolute favourite of all his baby foods and he gleefully accepted every saccharine spoonful as soon as it arrived at his eager mouth. Excitedly he guzzled down every scrap and morsel he was given until the jar was scraped clean. Dessert always felt like a reward at the end of a mealtime, his recompense for having endured a treatment he disliked, and none was more gratifying than Rice Pudding.
Shelton placed a bottle into the microwave for the boy before delicately wiping clean Boden’s face with a damp cloth, removing his messy bib and the dirty tray and tenderly helping him down from the highchair. The microwave beeped and having retrieved the now warmed bottle of milk from it, Shelton cheerily handed it to his big toddler.
“Here you go champ, take this into your nursery while I clean up in here.” He gave Boden a light-hearted pat on his sodden behind. “We’ll get that diaper changed when you’re done with your milk, Mr. Piddle Pants.”
Boden toddled offtoward his crib to drink his bottle, a noticeable waddle being employed to deal with the bloated, sagging diaper hanging low between his legs. Shelton smiled lovingly as he watched his boy totter down the hallway, bottle in hand. There before him, was a perfect example of the juvenile innocence that he had fallen in love with. He hadn’t regretted adopting Boden as his adult baby for one moment but it was times like this which really made him sincerely grateful that he did.
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