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Derrick's Awakening - Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2023-01-22 13:00:01 +0000 UTCDerrick couldn't quite explain it, what made it feel so special. He was, in essence, not doing anything, certainly nothing out of the ordinary. He could watch television anytime, and, if he wanted, he could watch cartoons, even if he might hesitate to do so around other people for fear of being seen as immature.
But he didn't need to worry about that now; he didn't have to fret wonder whether Mrs. Holland thought he was acting too young for his age. She had, after all, put him into a diaper, made it clear that, in her mind, he was little more than a toddler... This was all that she expected of him.
And maybe that was it... As someone as short as he was, and who had such a hard time growing facial hair, he usually felt like he had to prove himself, show that he was his actual age, and not some kid pretending. Even when he was at work, it wasn't uncommon for people searching for help to overlook him, to assume he was another shopper - or, worse, the child of one - if he was in his work clothes or not. And if they did recognize that he worked there, they didn't think he knew anything, that he was new, or a trainee, some high school student who was there part-time, despite him being there in the middle of the morning on a school day.
There, those things bothered him, at least to some degree, and this was, in a way, the ultimate form of that, somebody willingly treating him far younger than anyone had legitimately mistaken him for in a long time... And yet, this was incredible. Right now, in this mode, he wanted it to happen, like in his daydream of someone seeing him through the curtains, thinking he was one of Mrs. Holland's normal charges. It was, perhaps, what some deeply buried part of him had hoped for during those other instances, for someone to decide he wasn't suited to be at his job, or out on his own, and take him under their wing, take care of him, do everything for him... It ought to offend him, as an independent young adult, but he couldn't deny how nice the warm sensation it sent flowing through his body felt.
And that meant, of course, that he needed to make a warm sensation of his own if he wanted to keep this up, to do it again. Maybe not really... He could wait until next time, perhaps, or if he made it through bother days dry, she might keep moving the goalposts on him until he did... He didn't actually want that, though, did he? Playing in his diapers on his own was fun, but the thing he'd probably fantasized about the most, that most broke his immersion when he had to do without, was having someone there to change him.
It was simple to pretend a caretaker had set him in front of the TV while he squirmed in his diaper and ate some snacks... It was different, having Mrs. Holland there in person, knowing she was watching his every move, and keeping him safe, and he certainly preferred it, yet filling that space with an imaginary person didn't break his immersion nearly as much as being forced to diaper, and change, himself.
So he definitely wasn't opposed to doing it. If anything, he wanted to, was eager to experience having his diaper checked, being led off to be put into a dry one, knowing that he'd 'failed', proven he wasn't ready for big boy undies while he was at Mrs. Holland's house...
Unfortunately, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He snuck a peek or two behind him, and Mrs. Holland usually wasn't actually staring at him as intently as he envisioned. She was keeping an eye on him, yes, and smiled when she saw him looking her way, but she was also peering at her phone, or the newspaper. As often as she did this, she'd probably notice when he wet himself, though it might not be right away.
And it wasn't as if he'd never peed his Pampers before. He'd done it on his own, and loved it, and considering how much the rest of this had been amplified by the presence of another person, that surely would be, too... His cheeks warmed at the mere thought of sitting there, diaper squishy, knowing that Nanny would take care of it when she decided it was time, and not a moment before, being totally at her mercy - not that he anticipated her pushing it too far, making him stay in it for hours if he didn't seem comfortable with it. Or otherwise, really, since that was a good way to get a rash.
She expected it from him. She wanted him to do it, in fact... He didn't think she'd be upset with him if he didn't, if he took some time, but he shouldn't have to! He wanted this, too, so badly!
So why couldn't he make it happen? Every time he closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was in the bathroom, by himself, his imagination failed him. It was all too much, maybe, an overload of reality, keeping him from going back to his old tricks. He finally had his own babysitter, after all; why would he want to shut that out and act like he was alone, even for a minute or two?
If Mrs. Holland was disappointed when she got up and checked him, she didn't show it. It seemed odd, anyway, the thought of a babysitter mad at her charge for not having an accident, and he was glad she wasn't, both because he'd done his best to convince himself to do it, and couldn't, and because it would have ruined his fantasy, just a little, having her scold him for staying dry. He didn't want her to be mad at him if - no, when! - he did wet, but he did want to believe, in the context of their game, at least, that she'd expected him to be big enough to avoid any accidents.
Instead, she praised him, patting him on the head. "What a good boy! You'll be back in underwear in no time, won't you?" She smiled, giving him the tiniest wink to prompt a blush out of him.
"Uh-huh, Nanny," he agreed. "I'm a big boy!"
"Yes, you are," she said, with just the right amount of condescension. "And this is naptime for big boys."
"Naptime?" he pouted.
"Derrick," her voice took on a hint of a warning tone. "You're a big boy, aren't you? Big boys don't whine about taking naps."
"But I don't need one!" he insisted.
"Nanny thinks you do," Mrs. Holland countered. "So you can be good and let me tuck you into the crib, or you can keep arguing, and spend that time in the corner instead for being cranky..."
"Th-The crib?" Derrick's eyes widened.
"I've found that's where big boys like you get the most rest," Mrs. Holland told him. "The bed is just too tempting, even with the rails... It's too easy to climb out of so they can go play, when they should be sleeping. So they go into the crib."
How had she known?! Had she seen him staring longingly at it while he was lying on the changing table? Had she sensed that he'd at least want to try it? Or was she telling the truth, using the same rules for him as she would for any other fussy toddler? Whatever the reason, he couldn't deny that he was grateful for it, thrilled that she was going to let him sleep in the crib, and that she had made the decision for him, not giving him a choice in the matter, which made it all the more exciting.
"B-But the crib is for babies," he put up a token protest, as she grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet and starting to lead him back to the nap room, the crinkling of his diaper feeling so much louder, his waddle so much more pronounced, knowing where he was going, what was going to happen when he got there.
"Babies and big boys," Mrs. Holland replied. "And we both know which you are. Do you want to stop by the potty first?" He could have said yes, since his bladder was definitely beginning to get full, but he shook his head, then did it again when she asked, "Are you sure?" before continuing on down the hall.
Derrick stood by, butterflies zooming through his tummy, watching her lower the side of the crib. Would it be large enough after all? He'd thought so, but now that it was so close to becoming a reality, he was sure something was going to happen to ruin it, something he hadn't foreseen that would make it impossible...
"Up you go!" Mrs. Holland helped him up into the crib, under the blanket, tucking him in snugly, everything happening so quickly, so professionally, that he almost hadn't processed the fact that he was there, that he'd fit with no problem, until Mrs. Holland was lifting the side back up in front of his face. "Do you need a night-light, sweetie?"
It was a silly question; the sun was still out, peeking around the curtain over the window, letting in what was not a ton of light, but more than a night-light would put out. Even so, being asked it made him smile, feel small, and he couldn't resist answering, "Uh-huh."
"I thought so," Mrs. Holland chuckled, flipping it on as she passed by the outlet she had it plugged into, on her way to the door. "Have a good rest, Derrick."
"Thank you, Nanny," he told her, snuggling up under his covers, hearing the plastic sheet crackling beneath him, staring at her through the bars of his crib.
He could have climbed over these bars, too, with little more difficulty than he'd have had with the rails around the bed. He wasn't going to, however... He didn't want to, and, more importantly, Nanny had put him here so he wouldn't get out. In his mind, it was easy to believe he was trapped, that she was right and he couldn't get out...
It was also easy, here, in the relative dark, by himself, to finally do it, to let go. It was funny, in a way... The first time he'd wanted to wet himself, he'd tried to do it in bed, and failed. He didn't know if it was the babyishness of this 'bed', or the way this day had made him feel, or the practice he'd gotten since then - though he hadn't tried to do it lying down again since that first failure - but he had no problem whatsoever now, wiggling there, his padding swelling, growing warm and wet around him. All he'd needed was to escape his Nanny's gaze for a moment, and it came naturally...
He giggled, poking at the sodden diaper, the idea of a nap suddenly so much more appealing. Waking up in a crib, soggy, as if he'd wet himself in his sleep, stuck there waiting for his babysitter to find him, to discover what he'd done and playfully scold him, tell him how she was going to have to keep him in diapers for even longer, now that he'd proven he needed them... He couldn't think of anything more wonderfully embarrassing...
Well... There was one thing... He blushed at the thought of it, a part of him wishing he had the guts for it. Considering how much trouble he'd had with wetting, he doubted he'd be able to convince himself to try it, and yet... He'd also never imagined he'd wind up here, in Mrs. Holland's nap room, with not only her approval, but her help, so who knew? As he drifted off to sleep, the sky certainly felt like the limit, in terms of how childish he could let himself become with his Nanny at his side.
