Alby & Max (Part 16)

Hours went by in minutes while the two littles danced around each other as their caregivers looked on. They were a cat and a dog, yet in some ways they were marveling at themselves. The dozens of other kinksters milling about and surrounding them could have been invisible from the way the two diapered dancers looked at each other. For Alby in particular, meeting a kindred spirit took things out of the realm of fantasy. Meeting the grown kitten and her Mommy made this more real, and thus made Max’s princess more real too.

Max and his friend, Julie, were relegated to the sidelines. The wolf and the rabbit were implicitly expected to just wait and watch while Alby and Kitty got their energy out. They were no different than parents at a Chuck E. Cheese.

The oddest part? Max didn’t feel resentful about it at all. There was something beautiful at seeing Alby so unrepentantly happy. That this had been his idea gave Max a tremendous sense of pride. He knew his little girl. He knew his pup. He brought out the best in her. She trusted him enough to completely let her guard down and to be her best self; both as his little princess and his coworker.

“Kitty’s a good dancer,” Max leaned over and told Julie.

The big bunny leaned back and said, “So’s Alby.”

“No she’s not.”

“No she’s not,” Julie admitted. “But she’s having so much fun.”

“They both are.” Max agreed. He looked over to the other caregiver. “Thanks for doing this, Julie.”

July snorted. “Like we didn’t need this, too!” She gently patted him on the back. “You’re welcome.”

They sat there in comfortable silence for a few more minutes. Max let out a yawn and looked at his phone. It was just a few minutes past ten, and he was already starting to feel sleepy. Damn but did he feel old. The fact that his date was in a onesie didn’t help that feeling. Conversely, Alby and Kitty were showing no signs of tiring.

Good things they weren’t in charge.

“What do you say we give them one more song and then call them in for the night?” Julie suggested. “It’s way past their bedtimes.”

Max nodded and waved so that Alby could see him. He held up one finger. Alby held up three. Max kept his one up. Alby tried for two. The big wolf rolled his eyes. “Make it two.”

Two songs later and the overgrown tots were back in the booth and chugging down ice water from sippy cups and sitting in their partner’s laps. They’d done this several times already- keeping the two hydrated had been mission one- but there was a different energy to this last one. Perhaps it was because both of their cubs knew this would be the last time before going home.

“Uh oh!” Julie teased over the pounding base. “Kitty! I thought you were a big cat, baby!” She bounced the embarrassed kitten up and down on her knee and patted the front of her diaper. “I thought cats hated getting wet.”

Kitty hid her face in her hands, and Alby was doing her best to act casual and failing. Max bounced her up and down on his knee a little more. Now that he was looking for it, he recognized the telltale squish of a wet diaper coming down on his leg again and again.

Oooooh! That’s what was different.

“I think we’ve got two little ones who need a change before we put them in the car and take them home.”

Julie wrinkled her nose. “I’ve seen the bathrooms in this place. I’d rather change them out in the car.”

“Mommeeee!” Kitty whined. “I don’t wanna do a car change!”

Julie stroked Kitty’s hair and tickled her under her chin. “The parking lot is a lot less crowded than the bathroom right now.”

Alby looked over her shoulder at Max. “Daddy?” Poor thing was already trembling.

The Daddy smiled softly down at his princess. “She’s right, Alby.” He gave the front of her diaper a squeeze. “You’re about to leak.”

“I’ll just hold it until we get home.”

Max stood up and unfolded Alby’s abandoned pants. “It’s too late for that,” Max shushed. “If you move the wrong way you could leak through your pants and the seat of my car. ” This was all true by Max’s estimation, but more importantly, he didn’t want to wait to change her.

July was doing the same, and getting Kitty redressed in street clothes. “No one will see us,” Julie promised. “And if they do they’ll probably think we’re doing something very grown-up and naughty and keep their distance.”

Kitty was reluctantly allowing herself to be re-dressed. They’d still need to pass for vanilla when they were walking out the front. “You promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

Max buttoned up Alby’s slacks and pulled the polo down over his head. “You still remember your safety colors, Princess? Green for go, red for stop and all that?”

Alby nodded her head. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl. Use them if you need them.”

“Lime,” Alby said.

Max’s snout wrinkled up in confusion. “Mostly green but kind of yellow?”

Alby whimpered and nodded her head. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry,” Max reminded her. “We’ll go slow.”

The parking lot was cramped with cars and long on shadows, but sparse on people. The quiet of the night air made the crunching and squelching of diapers that much louder; that and it’s what Max was specifically listening for.

He heard Alby’s breath catch every time someone walked by on the sidewalk fifty feet away. He succeeded in not laughing at Alby’s paranoia but actual effort was needed. It was after ten in a busy city. He’d had enough experience with this sort of thing to know that he could shout to the top of his lungs that Alby was a little girl with a sopping wet diaper underneath her onesie, and no one would care. As long as Alby wasn’t lying in the middle of the sidewalk or blocking traffic, she’d be fine.

Julie’s car was a dark red minivan hatchback and decorated with whimsical and inoffensive stickers on the windows. Any normal person looking at it would assume that some Mommy and Daddy took a date night out and left the kids with a sitter so they could go clubbing. And in a way any normal person would be kind of right.

With the click of a keyfob, the trunk opened up. The changing mat spread out in the back compartment more than hinted that this part had been Julie’s plan the entire time. Kitty hung her head in quiet submission and climbed into the back. Alby cuddled closer and buried her face in Max’s chest and shoulders. Julie dug out wipes and a fresh diaper for Kitty. Max rubbed his puppy’s back and comforted her.

“Isn’t this so much better?” Julie cooed as she re-exposed Kitty’s onesie and undid the snaps. “So much more peaceful than in that loud, noisy club, isn’t it?” Her supposed question was punctuated by the sounds of ripping tapes off a giant diaper’s landing zone. In the quiet of the night air the tapes ripping sounded even louder.

This was one of Julie’s greatest talents, in Max’s opinion. Julie was a pro at playing the ‘dumb Grown-Up’ in situations like these and waving away her charge’s fears as if they were just silly little phobias. Only Julie could make normalization still feel kinky. Max really should have been taking notes.

Alby clung to her Daddy even harder. Max didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what was going through Alby’s head: He’d bet a year’s worth of commissions that Alby was hyperfixating on every minor detail of the change, certain that each bit of stimulus was broadcasting their kink for miles around. As if at any second the crowd inside the club would follow them out and instantly recognize the sound of diaper tapes for what it was. Then the wind (so she imagined) would carry the faintest scent of baby powder to their nostrils and out would come the torches and pitchforks.

“Huh. Would you look at that?” Max said, tapping on the side window of Julie’s van. “Kitty must be a very little girl.”

“Huh?” Kitty whined. Curiosity mandated that she reply despite her compromising position. “Whyyyy?”

Max looked at Alby and clocked the realization hitting the pup in real time. “Is that…?”

“A-yup!” Julie grinned, unfolding the fresh diaper and sliding it underneath Kitty. “Hips up,” she whispered. “Good girl.”

“You’ve? Got? A carseat?!” Alby yipped excitedly, her tail wagging with surprise and her eyes widening with envy.

It was an adult sized booster seat, the kind designed for people lacking either the core body strength in the event of a crash or the impulse control to keep a regular seatbelt on them. Julie had taken it to the next level by placing a bright pink fitted seat cover over it, transforming it into a giant toddler’s car seat, replete with rattles and safety pins on the upholstery. More proof that infantile was more of a matter of aesthetic than anything else. Make an incontinence brief cute enough and it was just a diaper. That sort of thing.

“Yes she does!” Julie spoke up after she’d put the baby powder back down. “Kitty loves her car seat, don’t you, Kitty?”

“Yes, Mommy.” The adult kitten was rewarded with a peck on the forehead right as her Mommy leaned over and started fastening on the tapes.

“But Kitty only gets to sit in it when she’s a baby,” Julie teased. “The rest of the time she has to sit in the back seat like a big girl.”

Alby was evidently so fascinated that she forgot her bashfulness and whirled back around from the side. Fortunately, Kitty was completely taped up, if not all the way buttoned up by then. “You never get to ride shotgun? Ever?”

“Not when her Mommy’s around,” Julie said, finishing dressing Kitty back up in her adult disguise. “Kitty is almost never a grown-up when we’re together…almost.”

“Mommeeeeee!” Kitty sat up and pouted. “Staaaahp!”

Alby lowered her head and tugged at the hem of her pink polo like it was an adorably short toddler dress, instead. “I wish I had a car seat…”

Hint hint, Max. Hint hint.

Max allowed himself a dry chuckle. “I dunno,” he pretend to muse. “You might be too big for a car seat, seeing as how you’re getting all nervous to get your diaper changed.”

WHUMP!

A few wayward puffs of baby powder were instantly scattered by Alby half-leaping into the hatch back and wagging her tail. Kitty had to scramble out of the way and hide behind her Bunny Mommy!

“Oh-ho!” Julie joked. “I think someone is trying to tell her Daddy something, isn’t she?” She winked at Max and added. “Maybe if she’s really good for her diaper change, she’ll get to borrow Kitty’s.”

“Mommy! Noooooo!” Kitty mewled.

The little cat just got more bunny kisses on top of her head and a back rub. “You’ve still got one in the back of your car, Kitty.” She reminded her partner, but the girl was already sulking. For a moment, Max worried that his friend’s baby girl was genuinely upset.

“You don’t have to do this,” Max said. Alby whimpered and mewled, but wisely chose to suck her thumb.

“It’s just until she gets one of her own,” July promised. “And this gives us an excuse to keep in touch and do this again, sometime.” She gave a light, comforting hug to the petit cat. “Wouldn’t that be nice, honey?”

Almost as neurotic as Alby, Kitty nibbled on her lip and gave out a defeated and reluctant, “Yes Mommy.”

“Good.” She continued petting her partner behind the ears. “But I should remind you, young lady, that only big girls get to sit in the back without a car seat. Babies without a car seat have to sit up front with their Mommies so they can be looked after.

“REALLY?!”

“Really, really.” The resulting purring could have been mistaken for a motorcycle gang racing in the distance. “Come on. Let’s help Mr. Max install it while he gets Alby all sorted out.”

Max handed off his keys to Julie and looked down at Alby, waiting patiently to get her diaper changed. She’d even gone to the trouble of getting her pants back down to save him a step.

“I’m really proud of you,” Max said, unbuttoning the snaps on Alby’s onesie.

“For peeing my pants?” Alby asked, incredulous. “For letting you change my diaper in a parking lot?”

“For allowing yourself to feel safe enough and putting yourself out there,” he corrected. “For pushing away your anxiety. For trusting yourself. For trusting me.” He gave the exposed front of her diaper a good squeeze. He felt validated when a tiny droplet seeped out past the leakguards and onto the changing pad. “All that and for letting me change your diaper in a parking lot.”

“Oh. Thank you, Daddy.” Alby blushed. “And you’re welcome?”

Max worked faster than Julie. He wasn’t feeling like dragging it out or playing with cooing or fawning over her like it was a big production. He peeled the tapes away swiftly and nearly silently. He wiped, powdered, and replaced without comment and settled for humming so low that only he and Alby would hear.

“Thank you, and you’re welcome, too.” He said once Alby was fully dressed and out of Julie’s car.

The pair walked hand in hand over to Max’s ride where Julie and Kitty were just finished securing the car seat. Alby’s eyes became glued to it. In that moment, Max and Julie could be spies exchanging nuclear codes and Alby would be oblivious.

“Thanks, Julie,” Max said. “We appreciate it.”

In a tiny miracle, Alby remembered her manners. She broke off from the newly installed seat and said. “Thank you, Miss Julie, for lending me Kitty’s car seat so I can be safe on the ride home.” Max’s heart turned to jell-o watching Alby take on a child’s bashful politeness.

“Awwww!” Julie voiced Max’s thought. “You’re welcome, sweetie!”

Alby caught Kitty’s eye. More informally, she said, “And thanks Kitty. This…this is really cool!”

Kitty pounced and wrapped the little doberman in a hug. “You’re welcome! But now we gotta hang out again so I can get it back! Maybe a sleepover?”

A happy yip escaped from Alby’s throat. “Deal!”

The little ones finished hugging and Max picked Alby up to ceremonially plop her in the newly installed car seat. “Now let’s get you home.” Max said. “Daddy’s got a special treat for you.”

“Better than a car seat?”

Max scratched the back of his head and chuckled nervously. “I certainly hope so.”

******************************************************************************************************
“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Daddy growled seductively.

Alby leaned toward the nursery, expecting to lead Daddy to the changing table, but Daddy had other ideas.

“Uh-uh.” He smiled softly. “This way.” He led Alby further down the hallway. Towards his bedroom; the Master Bedroom. It was much calmer feeling in there; beige paint and a king size bed with a light tan comforter. It wasn’t spartan or lifeless in the same way that most of Alby’s apartment was. Everything here had its place, but it was all well cared for and put there with deliberate focus. Family photos. Tasteful but meaningless paintings. An aromatic candle by the bed. It was a reflection of Max’s soft but unyielding care and control.

Alby was pulled in a sharp right direction, straight into the master bathroom. “Try to poop for me,” Daddy told her. He gestured to the toilet. “If you need help, I’ll help,” he signaled to an enema bulb laying by the sink.

The little dog pulled away. Max didn’t stop her. “I thought…I wasn’t potty training.”

Max stepped up and gently scratched Alby behind the ears as he pulled Alby in so that their foreheads were touching. “You can put a kid on the toilet if you see them pushing and when you know to time it right. Doesn’t make the kid any closer to potty training. Just makes clean up easier.”

“But…” Some neurotic and frightened part of Alby resisted, wasn’t connecting the dots.

Max pressed a finger to Alby’s lips. “I don’t want you to be my baby girl right now. Or I do, but not in the way I normally mean it.”

“What do you mean?” Alby trembled, not sure whether to be scared or titillated.

“I want to clean out your insides,” Max whispered. “I want to wash up your outsides. Then,” he growled. “I want to take you into my bedroom and fuck your brains out.”

Alby stiffened and in more ways that one. “Yeah…yeah…” Alby stammered. His Little self took a backseat. Littlespace made way for sub space and Alby felt decidedly more adult but no less vulnerable. “I’d like that, sir.”

“Call me, ‘Daddy’.”

The way he said it in that instance made it clear to even Alby that the word meant something decidedly different to how Max normally used it. “Yes, Daddy.” Alby’s clothes suddenly felt incredibly itchy. He took them off one garment at a time. First the shoes and socks. Then the outer layer. Then the onesie. Then the diaper.

He bent over and balanced himself on the toilet. “Please, Daddy. Help me.” His breath hitched while Max inserted the nozzle inside his anus and started to squeeze. It wasn’t as intense as it was the first time when he’d used an entire bag, but the feeling of filling up without having eaten something first remained a constant.

“Alright, Princess,” Max said. “Go for it. Don’t hold anything back for Daddy.”

It was a comparatively easy task reorienting himself and sitting down on the toilet to relieve himself- no cramps threatened to make him burst without his consent- but it wasn’t exactly a comfortable experience either. The hardest part was getting started simply due to practical reasons: He’d been willing himself to hold it in for the thirty or so seconds it took to pump everything into him. Doing an immediate about face took working those same muscles in the opposite direction. That might not be anatomically accurate but that’s how it felt.

“Uuuuuugh,” he groaned. The first round came out like popping a cork and then it was all an uncomfortable downhill from there. The emptying out only took twice as long as it had to fill him up, but Alby felt noticeably lighter when he’d wiped and stood up; he’d probably gotten more out than had gone in. He flushed, and then blushed looking back up at Max. “Sorry. Was I not supposed to wipe?”

Max took off his shirt. “You’re fine,” the wolf said. “Go turn the water on for me.”

Alby trotted over to the walk in shower and turned the knob. The doberman let out a tiny “yip” when he put his forearm out into the stream only to find out that the water hadn’t heated up yet.

A naked Max walked up from behind a few seconds later and stuck his hand underneath the shower head. Things had really heated up in just those few seconds. He held out his hand. “Come on,” he gently coaxed. Trembling, Alby accepted and joined his Daddy in the steam.

Max grabbed a bottle of body wash and squirted some into his hands. He worked them into a lather and began to rub it into Alby’s skin. Vanilla scent (ironic) wafted in and mixed with the forming steam, dancing into the couple’s nostrils while one bathed the other. Max grabbed the bottle and before he squirted some more, he considered Max. “Wanna help me wash you?”

Alby held out his hands and had more of the cold lotion-y soap squirted into his palms. He started caressing his own chest and caking it underneath his pits. “Mmmmmm,” he hummed while Max caressed and then gripped his throbbing member.

Alby had never had anyone touch him like that. Imagine his desperation and disappointment when Max just kept working his way down over the balls and buttocks, only to proceed down to the lower thighs with no intention of working their way back up. The little doberman tried to get around this by giving his nethers an extra rewash but…

“Tch tch tch.” Max warned. “You don’t get to touch that right now.”

“Can I at least wash you?” Alby whined.

“Sure, hun,” Max said. “Go right ahead.” He stood up in his full glory, and Alby suddenly had undeniable proof that Max was as if not more excited than he. “No touching that, either. As if to tease him further, Max knelt down, taking his member further out of reach. More realistically, it was likely a matter of practicality. The big wolf was literally much bigger than his puppied princess. Taking a knee made the whole of him more accessible for a proper wash. It also, Alby imagined, looked like he might be proposing (which in a way, he was).

The restriction was agonizing but Alby did the best he could, washing Max’s body and messaging him from head to toe. He was rewarded with little teases and grips below the waist and gentle pecks on the nape of neck to keep him excited and on the verge of begging Max to finish him off at all times.

Just as the water was starting to cool, Max turned off the shower and guided Alby out. “Let’s get you nice and dry,” Max chuckled. Usually it meant something completely different in this household. After he rubbed and massaged Alby’s entire body down, Max teased him by tying the fluffy white towel around his hips like a diaper. “Never can be too careful,” he teased, drying himself off.

Hand in hand, they left the bathroom and walked back into the master bedroom. Max let go of his hand and went to light the scented candle on the nightstand. Alby’s towel diaper was drooping so loosely that one could see the tent he’d pitched from practically any angle. “Do you want under the sheets or on top?”

Alby immediately overthought it. “Under. No! On top. No wait! No sheets! No sheets!”

“Nothing’s ever easy with you, is it?” Max shook out a match and started gently tugging the comforter and bed sheets off the mattress and onto the floor. It was funny; the way he said it made it sound like a good thing and not an insult.

It only took the slightest wag of his tail for Alby to rid himself of the towel. He climbed onto the clean mattress and turned his backside to Max, wiggling his hips like a bitch in heat. Enough foreplay. Time to get to the main event.

“Atta love,” Max grinned and climbed on atop of Alby. The little dog felt the big wolf entering immediately. This was more than just a thin plastic tube. Alby felt himself stretch and be filled. Max gently grabbed Alby’s hips and started to slowly thrust, deeper and deeper. And the way Max positioned himself, leaned his weight over Alby, just enough to prevent him from pushing himself up, close enough to feel Max’s breath on his back when he was huffing and puffing.

But before Max blew his load, Alby cried out. “Stop! Stop!”

Max slowed down, but was reticent to pull out. “What’s wrong? Am I hurting you?”

“No,” Alby panted. “I just…I can’t see you. Let me see you. Please, Daddy.” For some reason anything less would just…feel wrong.

Max pulled out, slowly, and climbed off the bed. “You want a turn on top?”

Alby shook his head. “No, Daddy. Just…” He had an idea! Alby flipped over onto his back and lifted his legs. Just like a diaper change. “Like this?”

A devilish and lusty grin found its way onto Daddy’s face. He was practically reading the little dog’s mind. He grabbed the old towel and pulled Alby by the hips closer to the edge of the bed. He boosted Alby up just enough to slip the unfolded towel underneath Alby’s bottom.

Alby closed his eyes and breathed in deeply as Max penetrated him again. He opened his eyes when he felt his legs come to rest against Max’s shoulders. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’ve gotcha.” He reached out and started playing with Alby’s penis with his free hand. Alby could only grip and dig his fingers into the mattress cover.

“Say the alphabet for me, baby,” Max told her. “Say it backward for me and I’ll let you cum.”

“ABCDEFG-”

“Backwards.”

Alby’s concentration was thrown off with a surge from within and without. “What?”

“Say it backwards.”

“Z-Y-X…”

Max started going faster. “Keep going. Keep going unless you want this to stop.”

“Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T….R-S-P…”

“Try again, baby!” Faster now.

Alby clenched everything he had and elicited a low groan and grunt from Max. “Z-Y-X-W-V-U-T-S-R-Q-P-O-N-M-L-K-J-I-H-G-F-E-D-C-B-A-NOW-ME-CUM-PLEASE!”

Max put a death grip on Alby’s legs and both spasmed helplessly in each other’s grips.

“BABY!”

“DADDY!”

Seconds later they collapsed into each other’s arms, kissing each other while their members continued throbbing and not caring about who would have to do the laundry later.

“I love you, Alby”

“I love you, too, Max.”

*****************************************************************************************************

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Alby’s father asked him.

They were out at dinner, at a steakhouse that was far too expensive to justify the menu. Father and son went out to dinner every few months or so less because either one particularly liked each other but because that’s how things were.

He had expected some conversation to fill the void between chewing, but Albert Sr. tended to keep things surface level and professional. He’d expected half-hearted inquiries about the quality of his steak or about how certain political trends might affect sales and either attract or scare away clientele. Not ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’.

Alby swallowed a bite of ribeye- rare- and cocked a quizzical brow. “Would you mind being more specific?”

Dad finished sawing through his well done t-bone and dipped a piece in a blob of ketchup. “Dressing up like a little girl while you suck Connors’s cock.”

Alby nearly choked on his next bite. To say it like that and so brazenly! In public no less! Alby nervously looked around the room to see if anyone had reacted to that. No double takes or glances were coming their way. All the other customers and staff were stuck in their own dreary words. Albert Madden Sr. was a master of saying the most vicious things at low volumes and casual tones. “Dad!” he whispered. “Not so loud!”

Dad crunched into another flavorless hunk of meat. “So now you’re worried about discretion. Interesting.” Alby wanted to die right then and there. How did Dad know about that? He’d been so careful, hadn’t he? Okay not really, but there was no reason Dad should know about that. Not unless….

“Howard…” Alby mouthed. That jackass! “I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he lied.

Albert Sr. didn’t look up from his charred meat. “The stupid room with all the girly and Japanese stuff, I can look the other way. What you do behind closed doors is your own damn business.”

Apparently not! As far as Alby had known, his father barely knew where Alby lived. “How do you know that?” he wanted to shriek and almost succeeded.

“Keep your voice down, boy,” Dad said. “There’s very little about you I don’t know. You’ll learn that when you’re a father someday.” Alby had no desire to be a father, but his father’s expectations made it seem as inevitable as death. Dad took a gulp of whiskey and then looked at Alby’s. “Not thirsty?”

Alby eyed the temptation filled glass. Dad had ordered it for him along with the meal. Just like he ordered the meal. Just like he got to order everything in his life. It had been a miracle that Alby had managed to get the waiter’s attention and ask him to change his order to rare instead of well done. “Not really…”
Dad reached across the table and poured Alby’s whiskey into his own. “Fair enough.”

No. No it wasn’t. Not one bit. “Dad. Look. I-”

“I don’t care that you’re a queer,” Dad interrupted. “Your mother and I have a certain level of…” he took a moment to chew more gristle, “…understanding with one another. Certain indiscretions are forgivable.”

Understanding? His parents had been distant from one another his entire life and divorced in all but name for almost eight years now. They didn’t even live in the same house anymore.

“Dad-”

Albert Sr. plowed on through Alby’s rebuttal, not even giving him a chance. “Do I wish you would have found a more suitable fling? Obliviously. Wolves tend to slack off when they’re not kept hungry.” If Alby hadn’t lost his appetite all the food in his mouth would’ve spilled out from Alby’s disbelieving gasp. Such racism! “Screwing around with you is making him lazy. Having him passing the buck and not closing deals.” He shook his head dismissively. “Ditching clients, and skipping meetings. Probably thinks he’s gonna be family someday.”

“Dad, that’s not tru-”

“It would’ve been nice if you’d found a dirty little secret that didn’t enhance your own degeneracy, but that’s forgivable. The heart wants what the heart wants and all that crap.” Dad downed a bit of Alby’s whiskey. “Just why did you have to drag it out in public like that?”

Alby’s ears lowered and his tail instinctively tried to tuck itself between his legs, chair or no chair. How long had he known about what Alby had been doing at work? It hadn’t been hurting anyone, so what was his father’s problem? “Dad, I swear I’ll never-”

“Going out to some club, pissing your pants like an idiot, and dancing in your skivvies,” Dad growled. “Does shame just not exist for your generation?”

Alby realized he’d still been gripping his fork, because that was the only thing that explained the clanging clatter when he dropped it over his plate. “Dad. What? What are you talking about?”

“You’re a shit liar, boy.” Dad went back to eating his steak. “It’s like I told you. There’s nothing about you I don’t already know. I’ve known you since you were in diapers.” He scowled and quietly added. “Though I don’t suppose that means much anymore.” If Max had said that it would have been teasing and endearing. Coming from his father it made Alby feel more even inadequate instead of loved.

He dared not make eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

His father snorted derisively “Don’t be sorry. Just be better.” he swallowed. “I hope you got it all out of your system.”

Alby stared down at his half eaten meal. The bleeding nearly raw meat might as well have been his broken heart and shattered dreams.

“Yes, sir.”

“No more going out and making an embarrassment out of yourself.”

No more going out to clubs or meeting new people. No more new friends. Just Max. Closed doors only. “Yes, sir.”

“No more dancing around in your underwear, prancing around like a sissy.”

No more wearing around the office. Not even panties. Dad hadn’t said anything about it, but Alby had a bad feeling. Sometimes what’s left unsaid can be just as powerful. “Yes sir.”

Dad shook his head, visibly disgusted. “And clear out that fairy circus of a bedroom of yours. You want to be a grown man playing with toys, buy a bigger apartment and shove it in a separate room or something. Your grandfather had a model train set but he had the sense to keep it in the basement and not in his bedroom. Stop acting like a goddamn child and grow up.”

Alby sighed. If he moved his bedroom stuff over to Max’s house, he could incorporate it with the nursery and make it feel like he belonged there instead of just constantly visiting. So there was a silver lining to that anyways. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Dad finished off Alby’s drink. “Do you want me to break it off with Connors for you or can you do it yourself?”

The little dog’s heart stopped. “Break it off?”

“You want to slum it and howl it up?” Dad said. “Fine. But do it with somebody that doesn’t know your name. We don’t take in strays.” The way he said it; not like it was a suggestion or a command, but a fact. The sky was blue. The grass was green. Alby was going to have to break up with Max and stop being a baby girl. That’s just how Albert Madden Sr. operated; his expectations became everybody else’s reality. “Understood?”

Not ‘What do you think?’, or ‘This is my opinion’, only a check to see if Alby understood his father’s expectations. Had he been knowingly trying to defy gravity or had he just been a bumble bee too stupid to realize that bumble bees shouldn’t be able to fly. Didn’t matter now. He’d just been turned.

Alby stood up and tried to look his father in the eye. He succeeded for approximately two seconds, which was double his previous record. “I need to go, now.” His voice came out as a stage whisper because any other volume would have turned into a sobbing scream. “You’ve got the tab?”

Dad dabbed at his jowls with his napkin. “As always,” he said. “Go on. Have a cry in your car about it. Just make sure the work gets done.”

Work? This had nothing to do with work. This was Alby’s father micromanaging his entire life. Tears did not threaten. Alby kept his breathing in check with relative ease. There was no time for a panic attack or despair. How did one even experience anxiety about going to Hell when they were already there. It was freeing in a way. The worst thing Alby could possibly imagine had finally happened, so there was no point in being afraid about it anymore. All that was left to do was to give up and endure.

Just like his father had said, Alby power walked out of the restaurant and to his car; his feet moving in a blur even though it felt like he was made of lead from the ankles down. He turned on the ignition and was most of the way out of the parking lot by the time he started sobbing. It wouldn’t have done to have a bunch of strangers seeing him crying in the parking lot, but there’d be less of a chance of embarrassing himself if some stranger passing him on the freeway saw him howling in agony with bubbles of snot dripping out of his nose.

Why? Why did he have to do this? Why did this always happen to him? Why was he such a fuck up? Why couldn’t he be allowed to have just one thing that made him truly happy? Why couldn’t the pampered princess puppy have her big strong Daddy? Why couldn’t Alby have Max?

Alby didn’t know. Because Albert Madden Sr. wasn’t one to give explanations. Only orders.

“Yes, sir.” Alby cried to himself. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir.” Each utterance was Alby twisting the knife into his own heart. He felt for the cell phone in his pocket, its normally unnoticeable yet slightly comforting weight suddenly seeming tumorous. He dug it out of his pocket and tossed it behind him like it was a hot coal

“Not yet,” he said to himself. “Not yet, not yet, not yet.” He was going to have to break up with Max. He didn’t know how but he just had to. His father had decreed it. But he didn’t have to do it right away.

He hoped…

*******************************************************************************************************

Max was going to be fired. He knew it as soon as he got the email inviting him out to lunch on Friday. Everyone who had been with the company for more than a year knew that if Albert Madden Sr. invited you out to a private lunch, that you were going to be fired. The Madden Last Meal was an open secret, transcending office gossip and making it into office lore.

Make no mistake, Albert Madden Senior was a good boss who paid and treated his employees fairly well. Like Henry Ford before him it wasn’t because he was a particularly good person; he just understood that happy workers were productive workers. A lot of the old man’s gruff attitude and resting bitch face could be tolerated because he tended to not ask questions as long as the job got done on time and he paid well.

He expected that same logic to work for firings too: A big party every year to get you to come back for the next, and an elegant meal followed by a handshake to send you out the door. In theory, it was a courtesy meant to ease the blow; it was harder to make a scene in public after a good lunch that you didn’t pay for. In practice it was just the last meal of the condemned.

“He knows,” Max muttered to himself as he finished parking. News of his and Alby’s relationship had reached the old man’s ears and for one reason or another Mr. Madden didn’t approve. It was the only explanation. He was slightly behind his usual quota, but he was still in the lead. Max’s B was everyone else’s A.

“Whelp…it was good while it lasted,” he said to himself. He’d already started planning a first draft of how to break the news to Alby in his head. Phrases like ‘it’s not your fault’, and ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ were all constructing themselves in the back of his head. God, he wished Alby was here. He swore he saw his car about half a mile back going in the opposite direction.

Shoved somewhere to the side was a notion to contact an employment lawyer just in case there was wiggle room to sue, but projected on the forefront of his mind pure pettiness. He was going to run up such a bill! Kobe steak and Maine lobster. Caviar. Foie Gras. He’d order every cocktail he could think of, take a tiny sip and then send it back. A souffle fresh from the oven that took forty five minutes to bake. He’d order things he didn’t even like if the price tag was high enough.

Madden was already scraping his plate clean when Max sat down at the table. “You’re late, Connors. I started without you.”

Max’s sales instincts kicked in. This was just a power play. “The email said one-thirty.”

He dug into his pocket to retrieve his phone, but before he could dig it out Mr. Madden just shrugged it off. “It did, didn’t it?” Suspicion confirmed and dominance tested. “Do you want to get down to business before or after you’ve ordered?”

Max resisted the urge to snarl and bare his teeth at his soon to be ex-employer. If Madden thought he was going to save some money by killing Max’s appetite, the old dog was going to learn just how hungry a wolf could get. “You’re firing me, right?”
The old man didn’t flinch at having his tactics called out. “No,” he grunted, “I’m firing Alby.”

Max’s stomach flew up into his throat. “What?!”

Mr. Madden took a sip from a whiskey glass. “Should’ve ordered first,” he said.

“Why are you firing Alby?!”

“Because I told him to break up with you and I don’t think he will.” Another sip. “You’re my best salesman. You’re good with people and you make me money. Alby’s a glorified secretary. He’s more replaceable than you.”

Max’s hands were no longer flat on the table. They’d curled up into fists. That a parent would say that kind of thing about their own child! Alby’s Daddy locked eyes with her father. “Fair enough. Working at different places will give us something to talk about at the dinner table.”

Too late, Max realized he’d walked into Mr. Madden’s trap. “Assuming my son can even get a job.” The old dog took out his phone and tapped a button. A second later Max’s phone buzzed and pinged. “Check your email.”

Max took out his phone and opened up his email. Coming from an unfamiliar email, Max opened up a file containing pictures. Dozens of pictures. All of them featuring Alby. Alby getting buckled into the special car seat and the absolutely ecstatic look on the little doberman’s face. Max picking her up and bringing her inside his house! Alby walking into the club with Max, with Max’s hand lightly patting the little dog’s rump! Alby getting her diaper changed in the back of June’s car!

The wolf put his phone down on the table to prevent himself from crushing it in his hands. Albert Madden Sr. had all of Alby’s worst qualities magnified and without Alby’s impulsivity. This was an invasion of privacy and a violation on a deep and personal level. Alby had broken into the nursery twice; both times intoxicated and neither one had been in deliberate malice. Alby’s father had hired a private investigator to stalk him once the water cooler talk had reached his ears. One was much more forgivable than the other.

“Might be hard to get a good paying job when those pictures make the rounds.” Mr. Madden finished his whiskey. “Are you gonna flag down a waitress, or do I have to order chicken tenders for you because I’m older? Is that how it works?” He waved off his own question. “Nah, never mind. I don’t really care.”

Madden took a cigar out of his coach and lit it with a match. This was in plain view of the no-smoking signs, yet no one rushed to correct him.

“I don’t get it,” Max said, hiding his disgust and only mildly failing. “Why do this? Why fire anybody?”

“Don’t get your undies in a bunch, Connors. It’s not personal. I’m just reminding my adult son that if you jump out of an airplane you better have a parachute because no amount of arm flapping is gonna save you.” He took a puff from his cigar and blew smoke in Max’s face.

“I quit,” Max said. “There. Conflict of interest solved.”

Madden flicked ash onto the ground. “Alright, then. You’ll both be unemployed, then.”

Max lost all his words. Anything less than complete control and stillness would result in Max flipping the table and going right for the old dog’s throat.

In his element, Madden kept puffing on the cigar. “It’s time for Alby to grow up, Connors. Let him struggle on his own. If you were a real parent you’d understand that.”

Max felt his blood begin to boil. How dare he! How dare the old man! He wasn’t a parent to Alby. Alby was just another employee to him; an investment to tolerate in the hopes that it bore fruit. To compare that kind of transactional business relationship to literally any kind of relationship dynamic- least of all parenting- showed what a sociopath Madden really was.

The worst part? If any of this had been directly targeted at Max, the big wolf would have handled it with unblinking grace and aplomb. Max wasn’t rich by any definition but he had enough set aside that he could handle being between jobs for a time. But the doberman had sniffed out the one thing in this exchange that Max cared about and was using it against him. Max didn’t have the kind money to support himself and Alby at the same time; especially if neither one of them had a job; double that if they were to continue in their current dynamic. Alby would be quick enough to do that math, too.

“I’ll break up with him,” Max sighed, quietly. It hadn’t been a struggle for him. He’d been given the choice of his own happiness and Alby’s security and he chose Alby as if by reflex. This reflex felt like weakness. Like getting knocked on your ass because a ton of bricks got dropped on your head. It took a different kind of strength to watch someone else struggle for your decisions and Max just didn’t have that kind of strength. “I’ll break it off with him if you don’t cut him off and let him keep his job.”

Madden put the cigar out in a half empty glass of ice water. “Deal, Connors. Deal.” He waved one of the servers over to the table. “Get Mr. Connors anything he wants and add it to my tab. Let him come back tonight if he wants. He can order dinner, too.”

Max rose from his seat, towering over his boss.. “No thank you. I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Should’ve ordered first,” Madden repeated.

“Yeah.” Max said. “I should’ve. I’m going to take the rest of the day off.” He turned and stormed off for the entrance.

“Fine!” Madden called after him, not sounding incredibly nonchalant. “Eat where you want. I’ll just give you a nice bonus in your next paycheck.”
*********************************************************************************************************
Alby paid the Uber guy and stumbled into his apartment building. He’d just spent the last several hours doing shots in some dive bar he’d never go to again. The bartender cut him off right as the sun was going down, and promised Alby he wouldn’t be towed till tomorrow as long as he didn’t drive home.

He’d made the right choice and gotten the ride home. He’d made the righter choice by going to a bar in the first place. (Righter choice? Damn he was drunk!) If he’d gone to a liquor store he’d have bought more liquor than he could carry and he’d have no choice but to drink it all at home. Plus, his streak of sobriety had severely lowered his tolerance so a bit of alcohol went so much further than it used to. Daddy would be so proud of him for being frugal!

No. Wait. That’s something that Dad would be proud of him for. Not Daddy. Max. Max wasn’t Daddy anymore. Or he wouldn’t be.

“Oh wow!” The driver gasped, looking at his phone. “Hey, buddy, are you sure you want to tip me this much?”

Alby didn’t bother to look over his shoulder. He waved it off. “Yeah. Shhure.”

“Thanks, man!” Alby took three more steps, then he heard. “Hey,dude? I think there’s something sticking out of your pants…”

At this, Alby spun on his heel. “Fffffuck offf!” he slurred. In one swift motion, he yanked up his pants and hiked down his untucked shirt.

“Yikes! Sorry! Just tryin’ to help.” The driver was smart enough to roll up his window and drive away.

Alby had been wearing the diaper all day. Alby had wanted to be a good baby girl for Daddy, but it was still as dry as when he’d taped it on himself this morning. Every time the urge hit, Alby had chickened out and ran to the bathroom instead.

“Notta baby,” he mumbled to himself in the elevator going up. “Notta baby.”

It didn’t have that playful poutiness that Alby imagined whenever she read the stories Max had showed her. The doberman wasn’t pouting, telling her caregiver or another Grown-Up that she was an adult despite all the evidence stacked against her. He was mourning everything that he’d lost and was about to lose. No more pretending. No more allowing himself to be happy. He hadn’t been drowning his sorrows this afternoon. He’d been drowning that baby girl inside of him.

“Notta baby.”

He almost tripped over his own doorway coming in and let the momentum of catching himself carry him into the bathroom so that he could vomit. Once that unpleasantness was finished, he gargled some mouthwash, swallowed it for good measure and then went to the kitchen area to get some garbage bags. “Notta baby.”

He should have gone to use the toilet first- his bladder was screaming at him again- but the old reasonable voice of sweet sweet booze told him to take care of something else first.

“Notta baby.”

The garbage bag unfurled into a black casket for toys and childish things. First she yanked down her pants and undid the diaper. Wardrobe had to go first. There was nothing more childish than a diaper. She quickly hiked her pants back up and started piling on the rest.

Next she started putting action figures, models, and posters in the bag one by one. She couldn’t bring herself to just toss them in like they were garbage-like they didn’t matter to her- and found herself placing each one carefully inside, like lowering the remains of a dearly departed friend. “Notta baby. Notta baby. Notta baby.”

BZZZ! BZZZ! DING!

Hope buzzed in Alby’s pocket. Max?!

No.

It was Alby’s father.

“Have you done it yet?“

Alby stared at the phone, thumb quivering over the screen. He tossed it onto the bed instead. Let the old man wait for news. He was going to get what he wanted anyways (just like he always did). He could afford to wait a whole twenty-four hours before he got the satisfaction.

“Max is going to hate me,” Alby whispered to himself; letting the spiral take him.

Tears started dripping down Alby’s muzzle, thinking about how the worst was yet to come. She resumed purging and destroying the one part of her life that she actually liked about herself. The tears didn’t slow anything down.

It was just like when Alby was a kid. Dad could go days or even weeks without acknowledging Alby’s existence. Then whether it was school or home or social functions, Dad would show up to let Alby know how he’d failed expectations or what he needed to do to earn his father’s support. Schools, degrees, professions- everything in Alby’s life had been determined by his father.

Knowing that his father (or someone hired by his father) had been here in his sanctuary. There’d never been any expectation of privacy growing up. There wasn’t any now, certainly. How could he be so grown but not be treated like an adult? No agency and an expectation of stoicism and perpetual responsibility. Neither the power of an actual adult, nor the vulnerability of a baby. It was literally the worst of all possible aspects of life. Alby just hadn’t realized it until he’d become Max’s princess.

Her hand hovered over yet another stuffie, the next to be enveloped in the black garbage shroud of death. It was the unicorn that Max had given Alby in the nursery. Alby paused; afraid to touch it. Throwing his own stuff away was one thing. Tossing the unicorn felt like it was tossing away part of Max.

For a second, Alby thought that his tears had dripped down into his pants. His bladder had chosen just that moment to burst. Alby dropped down to all fours; the cascading accident dripping down his legs somehow pulling him down to the floor like an anchor. Like a waterfall was hitting him from above at the same time his bladder was releasing below. Or perhaps his bladder contained his fortitude as well as his accidents.

“I’m sorry!” He started to bawl above the spreading puddle . “I’m sorry, Max!”

The trigger hadn’t even been pulled yet, but it didn’t matter. Alby didn’t have a choice. She curled up on her side and started to cry, cuddling the stuffed unicorn like how she wanted to be cuddled. “I’m sorry, Daddy!”

She laid there on the floor, soaking in her filth and sucking her thumb, the crotch of her pants cooling and becoming clammy and uncomfortable; just not as uncomfortable as literally everything else on her mind. She soothed herself in her mess until exhaustion finally claimed her.

*********************************************************************************************************

Max had always been a problem solver. It was one of the reasons why he was a caregiver. He liked the control, sure, but he also liked knowing he could meet someone’s needs. Meeting needs was just another form of problem solving.

That’s why he was unable to sleep. He paced around his house, trying to figure out how to fix things regarding Mr. Madden. ‘Fix’ was too kind of a word for what Max wanted to do to the old doberman. On second thought, Max really liked the idea of ripping the bastard’s balls off so maybe ‘fix’ was the appropriate verb in this context.

For about the eightieth time, he stared at his phone and considered calling Alby. Forewarned was forearmed and all that. “No,” Max said to himself. “Bad idea.” Telling Alby about this mess without any kind of solution on the horizon would just send his princess into a nervous breakdown.

Goddamnit! There had to be a way to win this! Or some way to reduce harm! To get his cake, even if he couldn’t eat it, too! There was always a way! Had to be!

But as many times as he ran the scenario through his head, Max couldn’t come up with anything that would end with ‘happily ever after’. To protect his little girl, he’d have to break her heart. Might even have to pretend to hate her.

Max almost punched a hole in his own wall, but pulled the blow at the last second. It wouldn’t do him any good to ruin his own property. It would just be another form of self harm.

He marched into the nursery, instead, and started to fold up baby clothes that he’d procrastinated on putting away. The middle of the night was as good as any other time, and the repetitive motion of folding up onesies and shoving them into drawers might do something for his insomnia.

It didn’t.

It just made him think more and more about Alby. How the little twerp started as a bully and a complete douchebag, but since New Years Eve had discovered himself and opened up and grown. Max no longer thought of his boyfriend like that. He saw Alby as the anxiety riddled puppy she really was on the inside.

The freakishly clean apartment and the gallons of alcohol were masking and self-medicating. The bullying was creating a self-fulfilling prophecy to avoid emotional connection. The gamer dork little girl was the real one. Albert Madden Jr. was just a persona created to keep her safe.

No wonder Alby turned out the way he had. Madden Senior was a total prick, a control freak, and a narcissist. Max felt himself snarl. After the photos, Alby’s purge the other night seemed a lot more reasonable. It wasn’t reasonable, but he could understand why it might feel that way to Alby. The poor dog had lived his life as the sole prisoner in a panopticon.

Alby was under constant scrutiny, and now a metaphorical noose was being slipped over his neck to force Max into compliance. That was the part that rubbed Max the worst way. Blackmail him, bully him, intimidate him personally? Max couldn’t give two shits about such blustering. But to deliberately threaten Alby’s job, career, and financial security? All because the old man didn’t approve of something that was none of his goddamn business?

Max finished putting away the clothes. A stray thought beamed into his head as the last drawer clicked into place: This could be the last time I ever put these clothes away.

On paper, it was a silly thought. Alby didn’t own these clothes. Max had bought them all, and not even for her specifically. Yet, he couldn’t picture any other little girl wearing these outfits anymore, and he didn’t want to.

Max found himself sitting in the nursery’s rocking chair. He wanted to cry, so badly, but that wouldn’t solve this problem and his mind just wouldn’t let him hyperfocus on the inevitable. It would be a lie, however, to say that Max didn’t wipe away a few tears.