Page 8

CHAPTER FIVE

ELLIE

Ellie

Sorry, I had to leave before practice was over. What did you want to tell me?

Brennen

Just wanted to let you know I’ll be out late after practice.

Ellie

Thanks for letting me know.

Brennen

TTYL

Brennen

I’m not loving this pic of hotel slop

Ellie

That looks like something I’d cook. Sorry?

Brennen

You didn’t cook it…no need to be sorry, but I’m grilling a proper steak when I get home.

Ellie

You’ll enjoy that.

Brennen

You’re gonna enjoy it too.

Ellie

If I have to… I guess I’ll choke it down.

Brennen

I’m gonna keep my jokes clean, but I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Wish me luck.

Ellie

Good luck

Brennen

I originally figured this experiment with Brennen would only last a few days, maybe a week at the most. But it’d been over a month now, and we’d settled into a routine.

It didn’t feel like I was a guest anymore, which was nice because that was exhausting, but it wasn’t home either.

No matter how much Brennen said I could be myself here, it wasn’t a real option.

We’d fallen into a regular schedule that felt like we’d been doing it for years.

When I had an early work shift, he’d hand me a smoothie and a granola bar to eat on the way to the rink.

On the days he went alone, he’d leave them in the refrigerator for me.

Brennen cooked dinner when he was home, and I cleaned up the kitchen, although he usually stuck around to do most of it.

The only thing that bothered me about the apartment was how organized Brennen was and how much I wasn’t.

Whatever switch flipped at work was still not translating into home, which was a constant annoyance.

I tried hard to keep the apartment clean, but it always seemed to get out of control, and when Brennen came back from away games or visiting his parents for the day, it was always a mess.

He was too nice to tell me to knock it off, but I knew it bothered him because he immediately cleaned up after me.

The evenings with Brennen were a special type of torture.

After dinner, we’d study for a few hours, or I’d read a book, before the torment would begin.

When the books went away, I’d take a bath or a shower, use my special lavender lotion, put on my grown-ish pajamas—superhero sleep pants and a T-shirt because a onesie would be strange—then we’d watch something together or he’d play video games while I continued reading.

This was all fine until the yoga mat came out.

Brennen would position it in the living room and do his stretches with his foam roller.

Every time, my mind was wiped clean of anything but thoughts about all the things I wanted him to teach me.

The obvious solution was to go to my bedroom, but I hadn’t figured out how to do that yet. Maybe next time.

My bedroom door hadn’t been fixed yet, so I did my best to make sure that nothing I used couldn’t be explained away.

My cloth nappies—I liked that word more than diapers—stayed stored under my bed, along with my babyish onesies.

Until the door was fixed, I couldn’t risk it accidentally coming open and Brennen seeing something he shouldn’t.

Not minding my bubble bath underneath the sink, or when he ignored me watching cartoons with stuffed animals, was reasonable.

But if he found my little stuff? That would be so much harder to explain. Or accept.

My most hated and loved times were when Brennen left for away games that required flying.

With an empty apartment, I could be as little as I wanted.

Just like when my dad was at work and I had the house to myself during the summer, I busted out the pacifiers, sippy cups, snapped onesies, and nappies the moment he was gone.

But I missed hanging out with Brennen. He’d always been friendly, but now he was protective and sweet.

He made sure I had something to eat in the mornings, fixed me dinner every night he was home.

Not only that, but he always reminded me that my stuffies were welcome to hang out in the living room and never made me feel like I was dumb.

Surprisingly, he never brought anyone home with him, and I was grateful for it.

He always asked what book I was reading and whether it was any good.

The torture of being in an apartment with Brennen was an extra layer of delicious hell.

He wandered around shirtless with his wide shoulders and smooth chest after his shower, and I swallowed my tongue every time I saw him.

The other morning, he came out in basketball shorts that hung so low I saw the V of his hips and a shadow of hair.

My mouth watered, but I’d never get to see the goods myself. I was definitely not his type.

His current trip was to play Bellport. They ranked higher than us, but that wasn’t difficult to do.

The team tried hard, but there weren’t many games in the win column.

It would be nice if they’d come home with at least one win.

When Brennen should’ve been concentrating on their upcoming game, he texted me silly memes instead and asked what I fixed for dinner.

He wasn’t thrilled with my cereal, but let it go.

I forced myself to stay in reality when it came to his concern—Brennen was a nice guy who didn’t share my crush.

“Stuffies, we have a movie to watch. Can you wait until after my bath to go to the living room?” There wasn’t an objection, so I gathered all my supplies and slipped into the bathroom.

I poured in my favorite lavender bubble bath while the faucet ran to get the water properly bubbly.

When the tub was full enough, I sank into the water and let the warmth seep into every muscle.

I’d pulled out all the extra equipment and sanitized it today.

Tonight, my muscles were screaming their objection.

The hot water swirled around me and I allowed myself to indulge in my favorite fantasy.

The one where Brennen was my Daddy, and since he wasn’t here, I was allowed to play with myself as much as I wanted.

My only experience was limited to my hand, but I had a good imagination and access to free porn.

Thank you, internet gods. While I relaxed under the bubbles, my hand slipped under the water and slowly stroked my dick.

The soap in the water kept the friction bite away while I played out my scenario.

In my mind, I thought about how to take a few pictures to send to Daddy so they’d be waiting after the game.

He’d come off the ice, victorious obviously, with a pic of me waiting for him naked and slippery.

He’d text me back and tell me my dick was his but he liked to see me playing with his toys.

Daddy B would tell me how much he liked my body and how sexy I was.

I jacked myself under the water, creating puddles on the floor. Ugh, I hated when reality intruded. Rather than deal with that, my fantasy shifted to Daddy B being in the bathroom with me. He’d oversee my nightly bath and wash me thoroughly, all the nooks and crannies. All. Of. Them.

Daddy B would wrap his long fingers around my dick and use his thumb to brush against the head.

The slick precum would help his fingers jack me as they encircled my cock.

With each upward movement, he’d tease the bundle of nerves under the rim.

Each pass would send me closer to climax until I begged him to let me come.

He’d smile and tell me, “Not yet.” Sometimes, Daddy B walked away, leaving me desperate and panting in the tub, but other times, he helped me come.

There was never a rhyme or reason, except, in the end, we were both happy.

Tonight, according to my fantasy, he’d let me come, but with my hand.

Daddy B directed me to take hold of my penis and put on a show for him. I thrust up out of the water. My hips splashed water over the edge while my moans filled the room. The closer I got to the edge, the more he encouraged me.

Daddy B pulled out his cock, much larger than mine given our size difference, and jacked himself.

Each thrust of his hips matched my own and brought my body out of the water.

When I shouted my release, Daddy B groaned his.

His jizz spurted from his dick and landed on me where I sat in the tub.

He reached down, swiped a rope, and fed me off his fingers.

While the circumstances of my coming were imagined, my release was real.

I gasped and choked back a shout as cum shot from my dick into the quickly dissipating bubbles.

With a groan, I collapsed against the slanted back of the tub.

While I tried to catch my breath, I continued with the rest of my fantasy.

He’d say I was his good boy for making him cum and that he loved feeding me. Then he’d stand me up, turn on the showerhead, and step in with me. We’d rinse off, he’d wash me, and I’d return the favor.

After we stepped out of the water, Daddy B would give me a quick swipe with the towel and then lead me to our bedroom down the hall.

Once there, he’d finish drying me and help me dress.

Naturally, he’d put me in my cute, fluffy nappies and footie pajamas with snaps.

While he dressed me, Daddy B would remind me how much he liked taking care of his boy and remind me that I was his.

Once done, Daddy B would help me take my babies out to the living room and set them up.

He’d put on a movie and we’d settle down to watch.

I’d probably sit on a pillow on the floor while coloring at the table, and he’d play with my hair when I rested my head against him.

Daddy B always made sure I had my pacifier.

If it was my turn to choose the movie, he’d pull out his computer and watch game footage.

With my paci in my mouth, I’d watch and bask in being loved.