Daddy's Stepstalker (Daddy's Little Deviants)

Shaw

Ahandtuggedat my shirt, and I raised my head from the computer screen where I’d been reading the email I’d received. Ari kneeled by my chair, the sloth clutched in his arm and a binky in his mouth. Since I’d brought him home from the hospital a week ago, it was like he was stuck permanently in little space. It started when we entered the house. I’d expected him to go through some heavy emotions. I still got the heebie-jeebies whenever I came in. I’d never expected him to fully freak out. He had run back to the car, and the only way I’d gotten him inside was carrying him through the garage.

It was as if he could only cope with being in the house by sinking into little space. Once there, he didn’t have to think about anything but playing and having Daddy take care of him. But he couldn’t be in little space all the time. It wasn’t good for him, which was the reason I’d sent off some job application letters to schools in other states.

We needed to move somewhere far away from here where we could start over. Our skeletons would remain buried here so our life could continue elsewhere.

“Daddy!” He tugged at my shirt again. “Daddy!”

I removed his hand gently from my shirt and swiveled the chair to face him. “Yes, baby?” I lifted him from the floor into my lap, the diaper squishy.

“Diaper full,” he said.

“Yes, it is.” I checked the time on the computer. “I might as well give you a bath, and then we’ll have dinner.”

“Nuggets!”

I kissed the top of his head. “Of course. And fries.”

“Yeah!”

“But you also have to eat some carrots.”

“Boo!”

I chuckled, hitching him on my side as I made for the door. “Yes, carrots.”

“I hate carrots.”

“I know you do, but they’re good for you.”

“Only one carrot?”

“Nope.”

“Two carrots?”

“Nope.”

“Three! Only three!”

He held up three fingers, and I nipped at them. He squealed and pulled them back, and I smiled. I didn’t mind him being in little space at all, but I didn’t want him to have to rely on it so heavily to cope. His psychiatrist advised me to slowly use activities to pull him out of little space until he was comfortable dealing with the tough emotions of being an adult again.

In our bedroom, I stripped him out of his clothes and the thoroughly soaked diaper. I ran a finger over his damp skin. If he’d peed one more time, the diaper would have started leaking. My breath quickened, and from the way he looked up at me, I knew he did it deliberately. He could have told me at any time that he needed changing, but he’d waited until his diaper was full.

I licked my lips. Hmm, maybe I knew something that would get him to leave little space. We'd had sex while he was a little before. He’d already made it clear he enjoyed sex as a little, and that was fine by me, but this time it was different. He was vulnerable, and little space was a safe place for him right now.

Without a word, I brought him to the bathroom and set him down on the toilet while I filled the tub. When it was the perfect temperature, I added the soap he liked, then had him sit.

I was careful with his bath, but each time I washed him, especially his back, and saw the scars the knife left, I wanted to kill Ken all over again. I traced the outlines of some of the more serious ones, then kissed the back of his neck.

“Stand.”

I drained the water, finished rinsing him off, and wrapped him up in a big, fluffy towel. He hummed under his breath and rested his head on my chest. Then he placed his hands over my wet T-shirt, which stuck to my body. He ran a finger over my nipple, and I sucked in a deep breath.

“Daddy,” he murmured. “I want.”

I kissed his cheek. “You can have when you’re an adult again.”