Right, so we’re already at installment number 6 of this story. It’s been great fun to write about my life so far, and I do hope you’ll enjoy reading the future installments as much as I enjoy writing them.

In this installment, you’ll get to know a lot more about Andy, the weeping boy. I’m going to share stories from our daily life with you. Yes, even sex with Andy. These stories are all fictional, none of it has ever taken place. However, if I had a son, and had life been perfect, this is what I imagine we could have been doing. Life is not perfect, so don’t even consider doing the things depicted in this story to or with a minor.

I’m also going to introduce John in this installment. John is to become a friend of Andy, and lots more, but I won’t spoil the storyline for you. John is also a most dedicated fan and has quickly become a good friend, who I’ve been bouncing ideas back and forth with. The situations taking place with little John, were approved by him, and as he has told me many a time: “I only wish that really had happened to me when I was that age.” So, while it may just be the result of an overly active brain, I have tried to keep everything as realistic as possible.

Please let me know if you enjoy reading my story. Send me a short one-liner, if that’s all you feel up to.

Thank you for reading this,
Teddy

Also, if you can spare a little coin, nifty.org does need your support. Please donate whatever little you can here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. If it wasn’t for people donating, I wouldn’t have had a platform to publish my stories on.

©2016   tflarsen34@gmail.com

The weeping boy.
- or how I became what I am today.

Chapter 16.
Andy, the young years.

I might have had a lot of sex in my life, but I never really experienced love, the kind of love you’d get from someone you’re in a relationship with. Oh, I knew I was loved by my parents, they had proved that so many times during my life. It mustn’t always have been easy to love me though. I always seemed to screw up and do something stupid to test their patience. But, if I have to point out just one single episode in my life where I didn’t screw up; it would be when I learned that I was going to be a dad myself.

Even if my life didn’t exactly follow the direct route towards fatherhood, I took on that responsibility without any questions asked. Andy just sort of landed in my lap without prior notice. Now, that he was there I wanted to put my own needs aside for his. To give him all the opportunities to grow up in a caring and loving environment. Much like my own childhood but without the bad things that had happened to me.

I knew I couldn’t wrap him up and shield him from ever getting hurt. That’s a major part of learning, to be able to make your own experiences. But I wanted him to know from a very early age that I would there, whenever he needed me. In the first couple of years my job as a dad was relatively simple. Simple, but no less tiresome. Fortunately his mom was, and still is a great parent too. As per our agreement she was the main caretaker in the first three years.

She put her career on hold by taking maternity leave for seven months, one month before and the rest after Andy’s birth. I kept working, only taking a couple of days or a week off at times when she needed more help with Andy. I made it a habit to walk to her house in the mornings before going to work to check up on how the night had been. If Andy had kept Michelle up the entire night, I’d call my workplace and tell them I’d be coming to work later that day.

Then Michelle could get some rest while I took care of Andy. I loved the times where I’d sit with him in my arms looking into his big curious eyes. They were so full of life. Making him smile was only a matter of smiling myself. When I gave him a heated bottle of his mother’s breastmilk he would suck hungrily at it, like he was famished. As if he’d never get to eat again. When burping him, holding him up so he was looking over my shoulder, he would spit out some of it again.

People without kids might think that is gross, so did I. But this was Andy. I didn’t see it as gross. Not even the stuff that came out the other end. Changing a diaper never became a favorite pass time of mine. But he couldn’t really do it himself and I didn’t really mind turning him into a squeaky clean little boy again. While he was breastfeeding it wasn’t really offensive anyway. If only I had been unable to see colors. I don’t know how something that goes in whitish/yellowish, comes out in such different colors.

It didn’t smell all that bad and it wasn’t like it took hours to wipe it off his cute little bum and penis. Or when it was really bad, from the middle of his back and down. When that happened it was easier to just get into the shower with him and use the handheld showerhead to wash it off. When he took to eating more solid foods, things changed at the other end too. But I won’t really get any deeper into that.

Andy was a really quiet boy, never fussing much, hardly ever crying. When he was learning how to walk, he would often hit his head. Either by losing his footing and fall over hitting whatever he had been using for leverage with his head. Or he would hit it on the floor with a rather impressive sounding impact. He would just look up as if to make sure his mother or I had seen it. Then he’d get back up and try again.

We were a little worried if he was one of these kids who could feel no pain at all, until one day he landed on top of his little hand. He cried out loud and I saw that he had broken one of his small fingers. That must have hurt like hell, but after the first shock had died down he stopped crying. At the emergency room he wanted to walk around even if his finger was dislocated. He wasn’t real happy when he was examined but only screamed at that very moment the doctor put his finger back into place.

He had of course gotten pain killers stuck into his little bumhole prior to the finger was put back. I may live in the land of the Vikings, but we’re not brutes here, not all of us anyway.

Whenever I could and whenever the sky was somewhat clear, I’d take him to a nearby park and watch him play on the playground. There were other kids he could play with there. The other parents who brought their kids there were mostly the moms. Sometimes a dad or two would bring their kids to the playground. Then we would talk and sort of compare notes as to the development of our kids. I didn’t have a lot in common with the other dads.

I doubt either of them had experienced the stuff I had growing up. But I guess I can’t rule it out. It wasn’t exactly like I was bragging to them about submitting to a grownup trucker when I was 16. Or fucking Thomas at an even earlier age than that. But the way they were always openly checking out women, was much the same way I’d check out boys and really young men myself. Of course I had to be a lot more subtle when I watched my eye candy.

Besides I had to keep at least one eye on Andy at all times. He’d wander off without a care in the world if he saw anything that looked interesting. To Andy, most everything seemed to be interesting. Even if it was just a leaf being picked up by the wind in autumn, he had to try to catch it to check it out.  Snails and insects were high on the list of interesting items too. I got to thinking that if you looked up the word curiosity, then you’d find a picture of Andy.

We, his mom and I, didn’t try to put a stop to his constant wanting to understand how things worked. Apart from the times where he’d want to investigate really dirty stuff like dog crap. That’s where I’d put my foot down. Not literally, I didn’t step on the dog crap. I would explain to him that it wasn’t something to be touched and examined. For the next couple of months, every time he saw something a dog had left behind, he’d loudly make me and everyone else nearby aware of it.

“Dada, dada, doggie poop. Andy no touch.”

Clever boy, but at times he could be rather embarrassing.

At about age three he got really interested in private bits. His mom and I had agreed to not shield him from seeing us in the buff. We didn’t want him to grow up thinking that there was anything wrong with being nude. In private that is, or at the beach. Yeah we let him splash where the small waves hit the shore without clothes on. We really didn’t see any reason to cover him up until he was around four. While at the beach, of course.

“My daddy has a penis, my daddy has a big penis, my daddy has a BIG PENIS!” He yelled out just as we got on a bus one morning.

Michelle and I were going to her parents in Copenhagen and it was just so much easier using public transportation to get there. Vacant parking spaces in Copenhagen aren’t easy to find. But we got on that bus, about halfway full of people. And then Andy decided to make them all aware of the size of my dick. I did get slightly embarrassed but deep down I was happy he hadn’t said I had a small dick.

I’d like to think I got some appreciative looks from the women on the bus and maybe even a few envious stares from the men. I was really too busy getting to an empty seat where I could sit with Andy before the driver sped off from the stop. As I sat down, Andy in my lap and Michelle next to us, this elderly lady in front of us turned around.

“They are quite outspoken at that age aren’t they?” she said, winked at me and smiled to Andy.

“My daddy has a big penis,” he told her, as if she hadn’t heard his announcement earlier.

“I’m sure he has, dear,” she told him, “but you shouldn’t go tell that to everybody.”

“But it’s true.” That was me who said the last bit. And if you believe that, I’d smack you hah. No, it was of course Andy. He clearly misunderstood the nice lady. She was probably someone’s grandmother.

“They don’t want to know, Andy,” I told him softly in his ear.

“Then they are dumb!”

“Maybe they are. Hey, look at that. See the police car down there? Wave to them,” I told him.

So Andy waved at the police car next to the bus, and as true luck would have it, the officer sitting in the passenger seat saw him and waved back.

“Did you see? He waved to me!” Andy was really excited.

Thankfully that was all he talked about when we got to Michelle’s parents. My dick all but forgotten. For the time being anyway. I didn’t think much of his fascination towards my dick at that time, he was after all just a little sweet kid and all kids at one point in time goes through that stage. His interest in private bits eventually decreased and I thought it wouldn’t reappear until he got much older. At least not until the age of ten or so.

But when Andy was five, I got a call on my cellphone while I was putting in a little overtime at work. It was Michelle. She told me that Andy had come home from a playdate all but devastated. He wouldn’t tell her what was wrong, so she had called the mother of the boy he had played with. She wouldn’t tell Michelle what had happened just that “that filthy boy” would never be allowed to play with her son again. It reminded of my own childhood.

I told Michelle I’d wrap up my work right then and come home. I was a systems administrator and had been working to install a new server in a rack. I had only wanted to do it that late afternoon, early evening to get a head start. It really wasn’t needed until a few days later. I was the only one left at work from the department, so it wasn’t as if I had to cancel anything to go home earlier than I had expected. I wanted to know what Andy and that kid had been up to before I’d talk to the mother.

When I got to Michelle’s house and let myself in, she was sitting in the kitchen.

“Andy won’t talk to me. He’s in his room, hiding under his bed. He won’t come out,” she told me, clearly upset. Like I hadn’t been able to tell from her voice over the phone.

“I’ll give it a go,” I told Michelle.

I walked to his room, sat down on his bed after closing the door behind me. I sat for a few minutes, waiting patiently. Sometimes it’s just better not to say anything. But still be in the same room as Andy. This time was no different.

“I’m not coming out ever again!” I heard a small voice from below me.

“I think it’ll be mighty hard for you to find a girl to be your girlfriend down there,” I told him keeping my voice real calm and soft.

“I don’t want a girlfriend, daaad!” he objected to my proposal like it was the worse insult in the world. What it probably was too. But we were talking. That was at least something.

“Then what do you want?”

Ugh, this made me sound like my dad or worse, my mom. This wouldn’t work.

“I dunno. Stay here.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened over at Michael’s house today?”

“NO!”

“Did you and Michael play?”

“Yes.”

“What games did you play?”

“I’m not telling!”

So, he would only answer yes or no questions. I had to think of something to ask so I’d get more information. I had an idea of what might have taken place, but I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions.

“Did you play in his room?”

“Yes.”

“On the floor?”

“Yes… No.”

“Did you play both on the floor and maybe on the bed?”

“Yeah.”

Okay, it was getting a bit warmer, but still they could have played any number of games on that bed. I really didn’t want to ask a question that might put ideas into his head. That is if he hadn’t thought of that yet.

“Was it fun?”

“Yes.”

“Did you play with toys on the bed?”

He didn’t answer my question. For a moment I was wondering if he had heard me.

“No,” he finally said.

So two boys playing and having fun on a bed without toys. Yeah, I had a pretty clear idea of what had happened now. But they were only five. Had I been doing that when I was five? After picking my brain for a few seconds, I could find a short movie clip stored in it. Casey and me, playing doctor. No, not that exactly. A doctor wouldn’t have had his nose almost touching his patients butt. While having a close up look at his butthole.

“Did you see his penis?”

I heard a small gasp from under the bed. Otherwise nothing.

“Andy, there’s nothing wrong with two boys showing their penis to each other. Not if they both have fun. You had fun right?”

“Yes.”

“Did Michael have fun?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see his penis?”

“Yes.”

“Did you show him yours?”

“Yes.”

‘Way to go son!’ I wanted to tell him. Alas, I didn’t.

“Did you touch his penis?”

“Yes.”

“Did he like that?”

“Yes.”

“Did he touch your penis?”

Again, a gasp. Then I could hear him start crying softly.

“Andy?”

“I’m bad,” he sobbed.

Oh shit. Not that. Not again. I had said those words myself. No, not that Andy was bad. That I was bad. I knew all too well what it must have been for Andy to say that to me. And he was only five. No five year old boys should think they are bad. Not for doing something that was as innocent in nature as to explore his friend’s penis. So normal and pure. I’d have to set that woman straight. But more importantly I had to get Andy to feel better about this.

“Andy, you’re not bad. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“She said I was.”

Damn that woman.

“Will you come up here, Andy?”

“No!”

“If you’re not coming out, I’m coming down to you.”

“I’m not!”

‘Won’t you go take a dump in a top hat’ I thought, an expression we had used at the boarding school. I hadn’t said that in years, I don’t know why I thought of it then. But it seemed appropriate for the situation. So I got down on the floor and snaked in underneath Andy’s bed. At least the floor was clean. But the confined space made it quite uncomfortable. I could have just had pulled him out from under there, it would have been easy for me.

Andy weighed in at about 20 kg or 40 lbs dripping wet. But if I had dragged him out I would have removed him from his comfort zone. That would have made it even harder for me to make him understand that he wasn’t bad. That he was a really sweet and caring, 100% normal boy. A boy that had only played a game most boys play at one time or another during their childhood. And mostly with no harm done. There had been no harm here either, only by the stupid mother.

It had been easy for Andy to get in under his bed. He was about 108 cm (3’7”) tall, whereas my 181cm or nearly 6’ long body didn’t exactly fit underneath his junior bed. He was curled up facing the wall. I got as close as I could, putting my hand on his side. I would have given him a hug, but the darn space between floor and the bottom of his bed didn’t allow for it. I was laying face down, with just my shoulders and head under the bed.

“It’s not really comfortable down here, is it?” I asked my son.

“I don’t care.”

“Want to hear a story from when I was five?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. You see, when daddy was five, he had this friend. Daddy’s friend was five too. His name was Casey,” I started.

I spoke in my low story telling voice I usually used when I told him stories when he was to go to sleep. I didn’t need to read him stories from books, I let Michelle do that. I could make up far more exciting stories where he was part of the story. He really enjoyed those and came up with some cool suggestions from time to time when we were in his bed. He’d be propped up under my arm as I sat leaning against the wall behind his bed.

“Was he your bestest friend?” Andy asked.

“He was daddy’s very bestest friend. He and daddy would do everything together. Even taking baths together.”

“Cool!”

“Yeah, it was, we had soooo much fun. We would go and play on the swings seeing who could swing the highest.”

“That’s really fun.”

“Yeah it makes your tummy tickle,” as I said the word tickle, that’s what my fingers did to his side.

He giggled and squirmed. But I didn’t tickle him more than a couple of seconds. I wanted him to hear what I had to say. To learn from it.

“You know what else Casey and daddy did?”

“No?”

“We looked at each other naked.”

“Really?”

“Yup, we sure did. Casey looked at me, all over.”

“Even your penis?”

“Especially my penis. It was fun,” ‘and exciting in other ways than just having fun,’ I completed the sentence in my mind.

“It sure is.”

“And Casey would let daddy look at his body, all over. Even his butt.”

“Eeeewww.”

‘If only you knew son, if only you knew.’

“It was a little bit eww yes. But it was all a lot of fun.”

“Did you do more?”

“Yes, daddy would touch Casey’s penis and Casey touched daddy there too.”

Oh the sweet memories of childish curiosity and exploring come flooding back, the sense of doing something our parents would think was very naughty only made it so much more exciting and added to the thrill.

“Wow!”

“Yeah it was really fun. So you see, what you and Michael did today, isn’t bad.”

“His mommy yelled at us.”

“Daddy will talk to his mom. She’s a girl. Girl’s don’t always get what boys do.”

“Girls are stupid!”

“They are different from us men. They are not stupid, Andy.”

“Ugh.”

Andy was finally ready to come out from his hiding place. I helped him up and sat him on my lap facing me. I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a big bear hug. Yeah, I am sort of living up to my nickname, my stomach could have been flatter. But having a job where I mostly sat down in a chair in front of a computer meant I’d have to go to a gym to stay in shape. And that is simply something I’ve never enjoyed and lack the discipline to do. Oh my nickname? It’s Bear. Shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“Everything is going to be alright, tiger,” I promised him. Not knowing at the time, that I was telling him a big fat ugly lie.

The talk I had to Michael’s mother. Well, I wish I could say it ended the same way in a big hug and all was fine afterwards. I’ve met people who don’t like gays plenty of times. But this woman, she was one of the worst. She was afraid my son would pass his gay disease to her son. She couldn’t or wouldn’t understand that being gay is something that you’re being born as. That you can’t contract it like it’s the flu. That Andy most likely wasn’t even gay.

He was only five. How could he be gay? He didn’t even know the word, or if he did, wouldn’t have been able to comprehend the full meaning of it. So Andy lost a playmate that day. Fortunately at his age, it was fairly easy to distract him from thinking too much of his loss. Michelle and I gave him a couple of days to mourn over not being able to play with Michael. Then we set out to find him another friend. With parents that would be more open to letting boys be boys.

Andy had met Michael on the playground. So we hadn’t really known his mother so well before we arranged for them to play with each other at her house. At least it hadn’t been a boy from his kindergarten, then he’d have to see him all the time there, without being able to play with him at home. That would have been too much like my relationship to Casey back at my first school. But there were families with boys close to Andy’s age living in our street.

I think I told you about Michelle’s and my arrangement to move closer together all for the sake of our son. But I didn’t really get into too many details about it, having way too many other things to talk about at the time. But we lived, and still live in two townhouses on the same street, even on the same side of it. We wanted it, so Andy could walk between the two houses whenever he felt like without having to be followed by one of us.

That way, we could easily switch between being the primary parent and the supporting parent. It also meant that Andy would be going to the same kindergarten and eventually school no matter which parent he lived with. From the time Andy was three he slept seven days at my house and seven days at his mother’s house. It was a great way of living. Andy was happy with it, getting all the attention he needed from either of us parents.

He had a bedroom at both our houses of course. He’d bring whatever toys he thought he’d like to play with from my house to Michelle’s, and the other way around. And if he had forgotten something, it was just a quick short walk to get it. There were a few differences from his bedroom in my house to his other one, but only really minor ones. His bed at my house was quite different though. It was a bunk bed that I spent some time modifying.

When I first saw that bed, I knew it would be perfect. Sure, Andy was an only child, but hopefully wouldn’t be a lonely one. So the top bunk could always be used by a friend sleeping over. But the lower bunk kind of resembled the cabin of the truck I’d been in. Yeah, I did hold onto that information of how the lights and curtains worked for all those years. And it was easy to put up curtains that converted the lower bunk into a cave like space.

A strip of LEDs all around the edges of the bottom of the top bunk gave the same effect as the indirect lights in the cabin. And they were dimmable, so they worked well as a nightlight for Andy until he could go to sleep without it. He had a normal lamp in there too, which he later used when he got old enough to read by himself. But, he never really grew bored of my made up tales, I adjusted them to his age and level of comprehension as he grew older. He also loved hearing my stories of what I did when I was around his age.

We invited a family living in the street over for an evening of downright coziness. It was just about hanging out and talking, getting to know each other. We really hit it off with them. They had a girl and a boy, aged seven and six. Though their boy was one year older than Andy, we thought maybe they’d like to be friends. Andy was wise beyond his years, sometimes acting like he was a much older kid. Their boy, John, seemed like a nice enough kid. That was our impression of him from having seen him playing in the street.

Judging by the way our kids were playing tag in Michelle’s, not so very big, backyard, they were having a nice time too. It was Jane, their daughter, who had to tag the boys when I had a look out the window. She tried to catch John but when he was too fast for her, she turned her attention to Andy. He squealed with laugher as she took chase. It wasn’t a fair match, Jane was taller than Andy and quickly caught him. He tried to get out of her reach by shifting directions but slipped on the grass and toppled over. Jane fell over him, she had been that close.

I was about to get out of my chair to check on them when I heard laughing instead of the crying I’d expected. I still went out to see what they were up to. Jane was tickling Andy who was thrashing about underneath her. John joined in as well. Andy was on his back on the grass, Jane sitting on his chest with her bum nearly in his face. John caught Andy’s legs and sat on top of them by his ankles. It was easy for John to push Andy’s shirt out of the way baring his flat stomach. He started blowing raspberries on Andy’s stomach as Jane tickled either side of his ribs.

I let them do it, quite enjoying the giggles and hearty laughing from the three kids. After a short while, I could tell that it was getting a bit too much for Andy, but instead of telling the kids off, I decided to even the scores a little. I got up behind Jane who hadn’t noticed me and picked her up with my hands in her armpits. I put her down on the grass next to Andy and really tickled her ribs. As she was laughing her head off, Andy was now able to sit up and fend off John’s attacks to his stomach with some tickling of his own.

When all three kids finally ran out of steam, they sort of just lay there on their backs taking in the cool evening air in huge gasps. I got up from the lawn, feeling quite pleased with myself of how I handled a situation that could have ended in someone not having fun. Jane’s and John’s dad told me I was great with children. I smiled at him and told him he had a pair of really well behaved children. The night ended half an hour later as it was high time to get a rapidly tiring Andy ready for bed and the couple went home with their kids.

Seeing as I was at Michelle’s house anyway, I took it upon myself to get Andy to bed. Even though it was her week with him. She thanked me and started picking up the living/dining room. I told Andy to go into the bathroom while I’d get his pajamas and a thick diaper, he unfortunately still needed to sleep in. I ran a shallow bath for him and he jumped into the tub.

“How was your day, tiger?” I asked as I lathered up his back and chest with liquid soap.

“It was fun!” He splashed his hands into the water when he said the word fun.

“I could tell. Lift up your arms for me.”

He did so I could wash his arms and armpits. This always got some giggles out of him, even if I tried to make it more into a massage. Tonight was no different.

“Okay tiger, stand up.”

He got up still giggling and I could clean his cute little penis and balls. I cleaned behind his foreskin with water only and then cleaned his bum and legs. This got quite a few giggles out of him too.

“Okay, sit please.”

He got down on his bum and lifted his feet out of the water on his own accord so I could wash them clean too. They were almost green from all the running he had done barefoot in the backyard. He nearly fell backwards into the bathtub as I scrubbed them with the sponge Michelle kept in the bathroom. Finally getting all the dried up juice from the grass off his feet, I turned my attention to his blonde mop of hair. It was cut in a mushroom shaped way and was getting quite longish.

He tilted his head all the way back and put his hands protectively over his eyes. I was always carefully trying not to get soap into his eyes but sometimes the bubbles had a life of their own. A brief time later with a really thorough massage of his soapy hair, I took the handheld showerhead. Making sure the water temperature was right I rinsed out the soap from his hair. Then told him to stand up in the tub. I let the water out of the tub, much to Andy’s disappointment.

“Nooo, daddyyyy!”

“I know you like to play in the tub Andy, but it’s much too late tonight. All the other boys your age has already gone beddy-bye.”

Yeah, you’re right, I really should stop talking to Andy in toddler-language, but sometimes it’s hard to stop doing something that has turned into a habit. If it’s any excuse, it was done out of love.

I rinsed the rest of his body off with the clean water from the sprayer, grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around him. Then I hefted him out of the tub placing him on his feet on the small fluffy rug Michelle had on the floor. I always dried him off like it was a timed event. I hated to see him shivering from the relatively cool air in the bathroom. We had to blow dry his hair after each bath, otherwise it would really tangle up overnight. Making for a teary eyed Andy the next morning when we tried to comb out all the knots.

Sometimes I thought it easier if we just gave him a crewcut, but Michelle roared at me, much like a lioness protecting her cub, when I made the suggestion to her. Her little boy wasn’t to go around and be bald or look like he was some private in the army. I pointed to my own hair, when she said that and asked if I looked bald to her. I have kept my hair in a crewcut ever since I joined the National Guard. Still have it that way now.

“I don’t care how you have your hair done. But I’ll kill you if you do anything like that to Andy!” She told me.

And I believed her. Andy was indeed cute with that bobbed hair style too. It was just a bitch having to spend ten minutes blow drying it every night.

Finally done with his hair, Andy was yawning pretty badly. I had him up on the countertop next to the sink so he could brush his teeth while I had dried his hair. He was getting better at it, but I made sure to do it again properly. He still had to practice. I couldn’t be brushing his teeth for the rest of his life. I had him lay down on the countertop so I could get the diaper on him. Yeah, it can be done with him standing, but it’s just easier to get it snug when he’s on his back. After quickly getting him into his cute onesie style pajamas I carried him into his junior bed.

He was already out cold as I gently tucked him into bed. No story needed that night. I went out to the backyard and pulled out a cigarette. I sat there enjoying my smoke and the cool air when Michelle came out and joined me.

“Thanks, Teddy.”

“No problem, I don’t mind getting him ready for bed.” I really didn’t. Apart from the blow drying of his hair.

“They were nice weren’t they?”

“Yeah, I think so. And their kids were so nice to Andy.”

“I heard them tickle him. I was worried they wouldn’t stop before it got too much for him.”

“So was I, but I think it’ll work out great.”

“Yep. Cheryl said something like ‘kids will be kids right’ when Luke went out to you.”

“We can only really wait and see. Time will tell.”

She nodded to me.

“You going to stay over tonight?” She asked me.

“No, not tonight. I need to get to work early in the morning. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s just been some time since the last time. I was kind of hoping, you know?”

Yeah, we still had sex, Michelle and I. Not very often and nothing that was really mind blowing. She was trying to hook up with a man, but not many were interested when they found out she had a kid. Most had run away before they learned that I, the kid’s father, lived only two doors down the street. The rest left when they found out about that. I didn’t really care if she did find a guy, as long as he would never try to take my place. If that happened, he wouldn’t have known what had hit him.

“Sorry, Michelle, not tonight. I might be able to tomorrow.”

“I’ll keep you to your word. Now, get lost so I can get some sleep before the little animal wakes me up.”

“Sleep well.”

I went home and got into bed myself. I was exhausted but I couldn’t really fall asleep. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Andy’s little boy dick. I could even remember how it had puffed out just a little as I washed it that night. The sight when he had lifted his legs up allowing me to place the diaper under him. He had shown me everything he had to offer. Without a shame in the world. But why should he have been ashamed? I was his daddy after all.

‘I am his daddy!’ That was the last coherent thought I had that night.

Chapter 17.
Andy and his new friend, John.

The next day, Michelle talked to Cheryl and had John over for a playdate with Andy. I wasn’t there unfortunately so I can only really pass on the information that I got from her. Basically she just said that it went fine. When I asked her for more details she told me the boys had been having a water fight in the backyard. Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to have been there to see it in person. I’d probably not just been watching the boys, I’d have joined in. Two boys aged five and six trying to get each other as wet as possible.

They had been wearing shorts and t-shirts. At least that’s how they started out. As their clothes got wetter, they started taking them off, one item at a time. So in the end, they’d ran around in just their underwear. Andy in his tight boxer briefs, I wonder if they had been the white ones. If so, nothing would have been left to your imagination. They would have been almost seen through. His little groin and bum cheeks closely hugged by wet cotton fabric.

John wasn’t too shabby looking either. His chubby cheeks really made him look cute. The night where we had invited him and his family over, he had played in the backyard with Andy and his sister. I had noticed his facial expressions as he played. When he had considered who to tag, he would have a super cute look of pretend seriousness on his face. Eyebrows furrowed, hand holding his chin, while he looked back and forth at first his sister then Andy.

Then suddenly launching himself into a run chasing after whomever he had decided he wanted to tag.

His body wasn’t bad looking either, a little heavier than Andy, but nothing to the extremes. Just a few kilos more than normal. Whatever normal is anyway. He was about 10 cm taller than Andy. That would make him around 120cm or 3’11” and probably weighed in at 30kg (66 lbs). He carried the little extra weight really well. But a boy aged six couldn’t possibly be ugly in my eyes. I’d always be able to find something I appreciated no matter what he looked like.

But I was well pleased that it seemed like Andy had gotten himself a new friend. With just a little help from his mother and I. I’m not sure if we had really needed to make that little push in the right direction. But it sure was a nice change from the sulky miserably boy Andy had been while he mourned over losing Michael as a friend. It wasn’t until about two months later that I fully understood just what the two boys were up to when they were playing without supervision.

That I was to be included in some of their secret games wasn’t something I had really considered. I had dreams at night of having sex with Andy. Sometimes images of his naked body briefly crossed my mind as I would jerk off to gay porn found on the Internet. But I had never truly considered it something that would be possible to actually do with him. I’d never do anything to hurt Andy, not physically and certainly not his brilliant young mind.

Michelle and I had started hanging out with John’s parents. Lyle, John’s father, was an auto mechanic and I was a car enthusiast. I made small repairs on the old Volvo 740 estate I drove and when I ran into problems I couldn’t fix on my own, Lyle was always willing to lend a hand. At first Cheryl and Lyle thought it strange that Michelle and I weren’t living together. But after I told Cheryl I was gay, and we only lived so close due to Andy, they seemed to understand.

They still thought of it as rather unusual, but they could see the benefits our living so close to each other gave us. They didn’t have any problems allowing John on sleepovers at my house when I had Andy. Lyle was often over at my house having an evening beer with me. More often than not, we’d be standing with both our upper bodies deep inside the engine bay or underneath my car. But we treasured those moments, where we could be men and not be interrupted by children or women.

It was mostly Lyle who enjoyed not having his kids around constantly. Andy was actually quite the little helper when I worked on the car. Even if it was just washing and cleaning it, he’d volunteer his help. Not that he was able to do much at age five. It was fun to see him fighting the hose on the vacuum cleaner when he tried vacuuming the car seats and floor. I considered myself lucky for having an old car where the paint job really wasn’t important.

When John spent the night with Andy, I’d give them both a bath at night just before bed time. Fortunately John’s normal bed time was the same as Andy’s even if he was a year older. I’d get them in the bath tub earlier than usual so I’d have the time to clean two little boys and still get them in bed at a reasonable hour. Of course I focused mostly on Andy, but I washed John in mostly the same fashion as my own son.

With one minor difference. John had been circumcised at birth. When I asked Lyle about his son being circumcised, he told me they had been vacationing in Florida. Cheryl had been 8 months pregnant with John and wasn’t due to give birth until a week after their returning to Denmark. But she went into labor earlier than expected and John was born in an American hospital. I didn’t get all the details, but John ended up being cut.

It made my washing of his penis much simpler compared to Andy, where I’d have to pull back his foreskin to clean out the gunk that would amass under the ridge of his little glans. Not that there would be a whole lot of it, it was just part of the routine wash really. But with John I could just wrap my soapy fingers around his balls and penis and massage his entire package then let my hand slide out the small length of his penis. Every time I did that, it left him with a firm erection jutting out from his groin.

Both boys found it really hilarious when they’d get a stiffy in the bath. They’d play with them of course, mostly their own, but would also fondle each other. In particular after they realized I didn’t tell them off. It wasn’t a full on masturbation session, just playful poking or sometimes a few strokes amidst lots of giggling. I left the boys in the bath tub to play for ten minutes on their own. I’d sit and have a cigarette in my lawn chair before I got them out of the bath.

I always got Andy dried off first, then sat him on the counter so he could brush his teeth while I got John dry. Then John would sit on the toilet taking his evening dump while I blow dried the annoyingly long mop on Andy’s head. When John had done his business he’d stand in front of the sink and brush his teeth. He followed my every move when I got Andy into his diaper, but never said anything demeaning to Andy about it.

He had asked why Andy had to wear a diaper the first time he spent the night, but it was only out of curiosity. When I told him Andy couldn’t sleep for an entire night without peeing, he just said okay. And that was all he ever said about it. It didn’t keep him from having a good look when Andy was on the counter though. With both boys in their jammies I got comfortable sitting on Andy’s bed, but with two boys it took some planning.

I usually sat with my back up against the wall at the head end of his bed with Andy lying next to me. His head resting on my chest/shoulder and my lower arm on his chest. I didn’t want John to feel left out, so I had him lay on his back on my right hand side. He usually ended up on his stomach with one leg in between my thighs and the other between me and the wall. He would prop up his head looking at me while I told my night time tales.

I’d usually spend around fifteen minutes just talking slowly and gently. And the boys would comment in much the same way. John would mostly just listen, not saying much when we lay there. I knew he wasn’t afraid of me, so that wasn’t the reason. Maybe he just preferred or had gotten used to from home, to only listen and not converse during the bedtime routine.  Maybe it was just because I was such an awesome storyteller that he was enthralled by my stories.

When I finished my story for the night I’d lift John up into the upper bunk, stand on the edge of the lower bunk and tuck him in with a small kiss to his forehead. Afterwards, I’d tuck Andy in and give him a little goodnight kiss on his lips. Always with his small arms around my neck hugging me tight.

With the boys in bed, I’d go to the living room and catch up on the news from the day on my computer. After about an hour, I’d gently open the door into Andy’s room and see if everything was in order. Both boys would be asleep. Both breathing slowly and in very faint snores. When I knew they were out for the night, I’d get in front of the computer again, but this time loading my favorite gay website to check for new movie clips to let out some of my pent up steam.

The night that I’m about to tell you about started out like that. I had my orgasm in front of the computer, had gone to do my nightly business in the bathroom. I had checked in on the boys ever so quietly as per usual, gotten into bed and also fallen asleep. When I was awakened, it wasn’t to the annoying beeping of my alarm clock, but by a crying Andy trying to tear my arm from its socket.

It was an autumn night, we had had a couple of days with really nice sunny and warm weather. Indian summer at its best in Denmark. But it had also built up one hell of a shower of heavy rain. More likely a cloudburst. I had read the forecast and seen the warnings but thought nothing of it. I didn’t have a basement, the roof and drainage system fully capable of handling the water. I think the boys would have slept through the night if it had only been the water pummeling down.

But as it often is, at least here, massive lightning and really loud thunderclaps accompanied the rain. It sounded like it was directly above my house. Now, I’ve always enjoyed lightning storms and the rolling thunder, but Andy and John? They were absolutely terrified. I knew I’d probably never get any sleep myself, but I couldn’t very well tell the boys to get the fuck back to their own beds. That would surely have messed them up for life.

I scooted into the middle of my queen sized bed and patted the bed and almost immediately I had a quivering, crying boy on either side of me. Pushing themselves tightly into my body. I put my arms around them and held them tight, whispering that it was only thunder. It couldn’t hurt them when they were inside the house. That they were safe right here with me. The thunderstorm took ages to finally move and find some other small boys to terrorize.

The boys were fast asleep when it let us be. I wasn’t sleeping. I had been trying to fall asleep, but I sleep facing down. Yeah, laugh all you want, but that’s what I’ve been doing since I was a very little boy. So falling asleep laying on my back was really hard. And I was sweating like a pig in heat. The two human heaters on either side of me made sure of that, even if we only really wore a blanket on top of us. I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone else either.

And two small boys, sheesh. They don’t sleep quietly but thrash around like they are working out in their sleep. I told myself that if there was ever going to be another time where I’d share my bed with these boys again, then I’d wrap them up like mummies first. Maybe they’d be able to lie still then. I don’t know how, but I must have at least dozed off for a few hours. When I woke the next time I was laying on my stomach, but that was about the only normal thing that morning.

I could both feel movement and hear giggling from beside me. I knew my bed didn’t come with a built-in massage-vibrator-gizmo. Even if it had, it wouldn’t be giggling. Probably not the exact same way Andy giggled. That’s when I remembered what had happened in the night. Yeah, I’m not a morning person okay? My brain needs a little time to warm up and get into gear. Much like a diesel engine. By then I knew it was Andy giggling and moving about on the bed. I turned my head to look at what could possibly be so funny this early.

Had I been more awake, I’d probably have had a bigger shock than I did when I saw what took place right there on my bed. Andy was on his back with his head on my pillow looking down his body while giggling. That wasn’t so shocking really. His onesie jammies was unzipped and bunched up around his ankles. Where his pee laden diaper was too. His knees were spread out as far as they could. John was sitting on his knees bent over like in prayer with his face in my son’s lap.

On closer inspection, he was busily sucking on my son’s dick. That was why Andy was giggling. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I surely must have been dreaming. I closed my eyes tight and held them shut for a few moments. The giggling continued, so did the slight movements. I tried to think of how to deal with this situation in a way that wouldn’t upset the boys too much. But the boy lover in me strongly objected.

‘Why not let the boys have their fun. They both clearly enjoy it,’ it told me.

‘They are much too young!’ my more rationalized self pointed out.

‘You did something like that when you were that age.’

‘That didn’t include full scale oral sex.’

‘Not too far from it.’

My damn dick had turned into a real hard erection, like it wanted a say in the matter as well. It was painful laying on it. So either way, I’d have to move over onto my side soon. As if I didn’t have enough issues to deal with at the time. I took another peek at the sight in front of me. Andy was looking at me. Smiling happily.

“Hello daddy,” he said in his sing-song voice he always used when he was happy.

“Morning Andy, John,” I said in a slightly hoarse voice. Like I had been smoking too many cigarettes the night before.

“Hi Teddy,” John chirped quickly before resuming his sucking. As if it was the most natural thing to do in the morning.

Oh yes, we’re not really formal here in Denmark. It’s only really in the armed forces we use Sir and formal salutations, even in schools the students are on first name basis with their teachers. I guess it would have made the entire situation even weirder than it was, had John called me Sir. Even if it was difficult to see how the whole thing could possibly have gotten worse or weirder.

“Having fun?” I asked Andy.

“Yes, John is tickling my penis with his tongue!”

‘Oh, well maybe I won’t need to wipe Andy down this morning,’ I thought. I did do that later though. I didn’t want him to run around smelling from stale pee and maybe get a rash from it. John seemed unfazed about the taste. I knew it had to be quite strong. But of course, it would only really have been in the beginning, after a while he’d get used to it.

‘Damn, what am I thinking?’ I couldn’t, shouldn’t let the boys keep doing this. I turned onto my side, unfortunately facing the boys.

“Daddy has a big penis!” Andy sang out making John look up from what he was doing and check it out.

“My dad’s bigger,” he said. But he reached out for it anyway. I saw his hand approach my dick, felt it wrap itself around the head. Yes, I had gone back to sleeping naked after that first year in boarding school.

“Do you do this with your dad, John?” I just had to ask.

“Nuh uh. He doesn’t like it,” he told me.

“Suck some more,” Andy asked of John. Or commanded. I was unsure how to interpret his words.

“In a second,” John said. He had apparently found another, better toy.

I let him explore my dick for a little while, he was fascinated by my foreskin, pulling back on it and letting go so it would slide back over the head. He did it a few times before I finally willed my body into action. I got off the bed, gently moving out of John’s reach. As I left my bedroom I looked over my shoulder to see John resume sucking on my son’s dick.

I went into the bathroom and got under the shower. Adjusting the water temperature to the coldest setting I could. It wasn’t nearly cold enough to get my erection to go away.

Chapter 18.
Andy tells a secret.

When I had finished my shower and reclaimed control of my dick, I went back to my bedroom to get dressed for the day. The boys had finished their game, at least they weren’t still engaged in their sex on my bed. My bedroom was deserted, so I could concentrate on getting dressed. I went into the kitchen and got the electric kettle started boiling water for tea. Something both Andy and I enjoyed in the mornings, with plenty of sugar and milk.

I found the boys on the floor playing with cars in Andy’s room. Both still in their jammies, though Andy’s was now zipped back up. I could tell he had even pulled his diaper back up. That must have been really uncomfortable for him. I asked him to come into the bathroom to get him sorted out. I had him out of his jammies and on the counter next to the sink, before removing his diaper. Using a damp washcloth I wiped his diaper area down.

I couldn’t help but have a closer look at his penis. The small morsel looked fairly normal so John clearly hadn’t scraped it with his teeth. So I sent the naked Andy into his room so he could put on the clothes I had put out for him the night before and went into the kitchen to set the table for breakfast. It was just cereal, milk and juice really, not to forget the tea. Halfway into my bowl of cereal, I thought it strange that the boys hadn’t joined me.

When I had finished it, I went into Andy’s room to see what they were up to. I hadn’t heard a sound from the boys, and if two boys are that quiet, they are most likely doing something they shouldn’t. As I opened the door, I saw John sitting on the bed, naked and my son on the floor in front of him. His head flew back from John’s midsection as I walked in the room. He looked a little scared.

“Now boys, get dressed. Breakfast is ready,” I told them.

“Okay daddy,” Andy said in a small voice.

John just started to put on the clothes he had worn the day before without saying anything. I left them heading back to the table before my tea got too cold to drink. Andy and John came into the kitchen looking quite subdued. They joined me at the table.

“So boys,” I started in my calmest and most gentle voice I could muster, “Whose idea was it to do what you did in my bed this morning?”

Both boys looked down. Saying nothing.

“I’m not angry with either of you,” I continued, “I only want to know.”

“It was John,” Andy said, obviously still more interested in looking at his lap than me.

“You promised!” John looked terrified.

“Was it meant to be a secret?” I asked John.

“Yes. Please don’t tell,” he begged.

That request took me straight back to me in my brother’s room when I was what, 12 or 13? Something like that. But I wasn’t my brother.

“What is there to tell?” I asked back.

“That we were doing naughty stuff.”

“I didn’t see anyone being naughty. Did you?”

“My dad says it’s naughty.”

“Come here.”

John slipped off his chair and got slowly closer to me. When he was close enough I picked him up and sat him sideways on my lap. I looked down at him.

“Listen to me, John. Some people think what you and Andy did is very naughty. But I’m not one of them,” I had to quickly say the last part, as John widened his eyes at what I told him.

“All I saw was two little boys having fun exploring their bodies.”

Andy nodded his head demonstratively up and down.

“See, Andy had fun. Did you?”

“Uhm, yes?”

“So, here’s a rule. If both of you have fun, and I mean both you and Andy have fun,” I pointed my finger at each of the boys, “then it isn’t wrong or naughty.”

“But if Andy or you say stop, then you stop whatever you’re doing right away. Got it?”

“Yes daddy,” Andy said.

“But is it okay?” John asked me.

“In my house it is. My house, my rules. If you are at Andy’s mommy’s house or at your house, then the rules are different. Understand?”

“So we can be naughty here but not at home?”

“That’s right.”

John hugged me as best as he could while sitting in that position. What he did was put his arms around my neck and just squeezed tight.

“Woah, there buddy, you’re choking me to death.”

John loosened his grip a little and said something I’d never expected to hear from a six years old boy, well apart from Andy.

“I love you!”

I made sure to explain the boys, using words they could understand, that the rules only applied to when they wanted to have sex. I didn’t use that word of course, but I really didn’t want them to think that they could just do anything they wanted to as long as both of them had fun. And if they had any questions they could always ask me without fear of me getting mad or ridiculing them.

“So I can do whatever I want to John if he lets me?”

“No, tiger. You can’t do anything that will hurt him. And John, the same goes for you. You can’t do anything that will hurt Andy either. If you aren’t sure, just ask me and I will let you know if you can or cannot do it okay?”

Both boys agreed. Had I known what can of worms I had just opened, I would have reconsidered what I’d just done. They ate their breakfast at record speed while smiling to each other. If they had been any older, I’d say they looked like two lovers getting ready for their first real date.

They helped me clearing the table by putting their bowls, glasses and tea mugs into the dishwasher. Then they ran into Andy’s room shutting the door loudly behind them.

I wondered what they were up to, but got a call from my work. One of the more important servers was unresponsive and the first line operator couldn’t really do much about it. He got paid to be on call. I didn’t. At least he had waited some hours before calling me. I’d usually get about ten hours’ worth of overtime for working around two effective hours. It was my boss who told me to do that conversion. Yeah, sometimes it’s nice to be considered irreplaceable. Not that I ever took advantage of it.

As I got deeper into figuring out where the problem with the server was, the door into Andy’s room opened and my son ran to me. Naked like the day he was born.

“Daddy, Daddy!” He said loudly while running and as he got closer, “Can I have some chocolate sauce?”

“What do you want it for?”

“To put on John’s penis,” He giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“Okay, but don’t use too much. Just a tiny little drop, you hear?”

I knew far too well that if I only said not too much, he’d just empty the damn bottle in John’s lap. As to letting them do it, why not? They’ wouldn’t be the first boys to put stuff on a dick to make it tastier, I had done it myself. They probably wouldn’t be the last either. I think I said something earlier about never having done anything with Walter, my dog? He’s long dead now, but I did get him to lick my dick. Only ever once, but I used something to make him want to lick it.

I can’t remember what it was, but he enjoyed licking it off. It was just too tickly for me to let him do it for too long. Raspy tongue you know?

Andy happily ran back to his room with the bottle of chocolate sauce, again nearly slamming the door behind him. I would have loved to be inside his room when he poured the stuff onto John’s dicky, as it came straight from the fridge. They made no noise so I got back to work. For all I really know, they could have just been eating the chocolate sauce straight out of the bottle.

About twenty minutes later they both emerged from his bedroom. Fully dressed. Andy handed me the bottle of sauce, which was substantially lighter than before, but still had some in it. Both boys had a bit of sauce in the corners of their mouth so I had them go wash their faces. I wondered if there were traces of chocolate on their private parts too. Short of having them strip I couldn’t tell. I wasn’t really interested anyway.

They wanted to go play in the backyard which was no problem to me. I knew Andy wouldn’t leave it without asking my permission first. I put the chocolate sauce back in the fridge. Yes, I wiped the bottle off first.

The server problem? It was the port in the switch that had died. Fortunately I didn’t have to drive to work to move the network cable. The on-call guy knew how to do that. I swapped out the port that following Monday, thank god for module based hardware. And I got 2 days of overtime from sitting 3 hours in front of the computer in my living room.

As it turned out the boys had indeed been using the chocolate sauce on their private bits. I found dried up traces of it on Andy when I gave him a bath that night. Not just on his penis, but also on his little balls and even some between his cheeks. I chose not to ask him about it. If he had wanted me to know, he’d have told me. I did wonder if John had looked the same and whether his parents had noticed it when giving him a bath. If so, what they had thought about it. They never said anything to me regarding the state of their little boy’s private bits.

Cheryl came looking for her son just before lunch time, the boys were by then having fun in the backyard on the swings I had erected there. Yes, the two boys did plenty of other things than explore their sexes with each other. Much like I had done with Casey when I was their age and a little older. They had their differences and little boy arguments of course. Even if one or the other sometimes yelled that they’d never ever want to play again, it was usually settled no more than a couple of days later.

One of those times, I really thought it would be the end of an otherwise perfect friendship. John had slept over at our house and I had just fed the boys their breakfast. That time I had been lax and allowed them to eat it in front of the TV. Normally I was strict about us all sitting at the table eating like a family. Or as close to what a family would anyway. But there was a children’s show on, which both Andy and John loved to the point of where they’d die, if they missed one single episode. At least that is what they told me.

Normally we’d be up and about in plenty of time for having breakfast before the show started, but for some reason Andy woke me up half an hour later than he usually would. It left me just enough time to get him sorted out, you know, getting him out of the wet diaper and wiped down. But not enough time to cook up some eggs, and get them into the boys before the show started. So they had them in front of the TV.

Since we weren’t going to eat as a family anyway, I had my morning smoke and then went to take a bath. I knew the boys could fend for themselves, for the one hour I wanted as my personal time. Or so I thought. I’d been in the tub for about 40 minutes when all hell broke loose in the living room.

“STOP! STOP!” I heard Andy shouting.

Before I could get out of the tub, I heard more shouting from the living room.

“I’M NOT A BABY!” Again it was Andy’s voice. He sounded really angry.

As I wrapped a towel around me, I could hear more shouting.

“I NEVER WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU AGAIN!” Andy screamed from the top of his lungs.

As I opened the bathroom door, I could see the front door closing and Andy’s door slam shut.

‘What the hell?’ I thought and knocked on Andy’s door. I didn’t get a response. I knocked again, this time more forcefully.

“Go away daddy,” Andy said in a voice so low I could hardly hear him through the door.

I didn’t know what had taken place in the living room, but I sure as hell didn’t want to leave my son alone in his room. So, I broke one of the rules we had in my house. Never to enter someone’s bedroom without getting permission first. Heck, Andy broke that rule every morning anyway. So I opened his door.

“Andy, I’m coming in, whether or not you want me to,” I said softly as I walked into his room.

I could hear him quietly cry somewhere in the room. He wasn’t in his bed or in his closet. Then there was only one place left where he could be. He was underneath his bed. It was almost exactly the same as had happened that time with Michael. I got on my knees and looked in under the bed. He was curled up, facing the wall. I really, really didn’t want to get down there with him this time. My back ached like you wouldn’t believe it, hence my morning bath.

No, he would just have to come out to me, so this time I gently pulled him out with a grip around his upper arm. I did it gently, but quickly. I needed my boy safely in my arms. As I pulled him out, his crying got more intense.

“I don’t want you seeing me,” he sobbed.

I sat on the floor, back resting against his bed as I put my son in my lap. I could clearly see the dark patch on his sweatpants. I only wore a towel around me so I couldn’t care less. Hell, I’d put him on my lap even if he had shat himself and I was wearing the dress uniform pants from the National Guard. The ones I always had hanging, wrapped in plastic in my closet, pressed and brushed clean of anything that might have stuck to them.

I let the boy cry as I hugged him tight. I could piece together what had happened without him telling me. The boys must have had been in a tickle fight that got out of hand. Andy clearly was no match to the bigger John. I’d have to let John understand never to do this again. But first I had to get Andy to want to play with him again. When he was done crying, I gave him a bath. While the sweatpants was in the washing machine.

It took me the better part of the day reminding him of all the fun he had had with John.

“But dad, he made me pee my pants,” Andy objected. Many times. Like it was the worst thing anyone could possibly do to you.

When I finally got him to stop using that as a reason of not wanting to ever play with John again, he just used another, much more insulting thing John had done to him.

“John said I needed my diaper,” he said. He made slight variations of this statement, even as I got him to bed.

So I told him a story. I had to make it up as I went, but I was used to do that anyway. It was of course about two boys, who got into a fierce tickling fight. So both accidently wet themselves. Several times they wet themselves, ending up with pee soaked clothes. I had to make the story fun and ridiculous. Then I had one of them say, ‘I really wish we had on a diaper. Then we could continue tickling without having to worry about pee getting all over our clothes.’

Andy agreed that it would have been a good idea if they had been in diapers. He could see the logic in the story. I tucked him in and gave him his goodnight kiss on the lips, as I always did.

“I wonder if that might have been why John said that to you?” I said softly as I left his room.

The next morning I woke up by Andy trying to pull me from my bed onto the floor.

“Daddy, do you think that was why John said I needed a diaper?” He asked as he saw I was awake.

I shook my head a little, trying to work out what he was on about. Then I remembered what I had said just before shutting Andy’s door the previous night.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly why he said it.”

Okay, there might have been other reasons, but if I could make Andy believe that it wasn’t said to degrade him, then there was a much bigger chance of him wanting to play with John again.

As I had Andy on the changing pad minutes after, he was still trying to work things out, using his child logic.

“But, dad, what if he didn’t mean it like that?” he asked as he lay on his back holding his thighs just above the knee, allowing me to wipe over his bum and behind his little ball sack with the damp washcloth.

“Like what, tiger?”

“Like, if I had on a diaper we could have played for longer.”

“I can’t say exactly what he meant. I just don’t think he said it to hurt your feelings, big boy.”

At that time he was big. Well, bigger, at least. I had reached his dicky and as I wiped it down, it had firmed up. I was probably a bad parent. But he seemed to enjoy what I did, he didn’t protest or try to protect himself from me.

“Daddy,” my son said in a little voice, “I do wanna play with John. But he called me baby.”

“Did he now?”

“Uhm, no, not exactly. But he meant it.”

“All clean, tiger,” I picked him into my arms, tickled him a little while I had him suspended in the air before I sat him on the floor.

“Why don’t we ask him?

“I yelled I never wanted to play with him again,” Andy said sadly, “I even made him cry and go home. He’ll never wanna talk to me.”

“Leave it to daddy, I’ll find a way.”

After Andy had eaten his breakfast I sent him out in the backyard to play and called John’s house. His mother, Cheryl, answered the phone. I apologized for John coming home alone yesterday and asked if he was okay. She told me that John had been upset but did tell her what had happened. He hadn’t wanted to eat anything and kept to himself in his bedroom. I told her how Andy feared John would never want to play again.

Cheryl said that was exactly what John feared too. I invited her to come to my house after lunch and to bring John with her. Even if it meant dragging him here. She accepted my invitation quickly.

I went out to the backyard and saw Andy sitting on one of the swings. He wasn’t really swinging, just sat there, with the tip of his shoes digging into the ground below him. He moved the swing back and forth, just a few inches each way.

“Hey tiger,” his head raised, eyes finding mine as he heard my voice, “C’mere, Andy.”

He got off the swing and walked to me. Not his usual running/skipping, no, just a normal walk.

“John will be here after lunch.”

“Really?” he asked me.

“Yeah.”

John and his mother came to my house right on time. The boys were uneasy with each other, not at all the best of friends, Cheryl and I were used to seeing. They got into a small squabble about the diaper/baby thing, ending with John jumping off his chair, moving to stand in front of Andy with his legs spread.

“Okay, I’ll pee in my pants right here, right now, if it makes you feel better,” John said.

“Oh no you won’t!” Cheryl strongly objected to that idea.

It made my mind kick into action. If John was so willing to piss himself just to get Andy back as a friend, I thought maybe he’d do something else. Hopefully Cheryl would approve of it too. I stuck my neck out, baring my throat to a mother of a son. The most dangerous of all species in the known world.

“How about this, Cheryl? John, you wear a diaper so Andy can see for himself that big boys sometimes do wear diapers?”

“I really don’t know,” Cheryl started, but was interrupted by Andy.

“You gotta wear it all day. And only a diaper. Nothing else!” he listed his demands, “You gotta go into the front yard so everybody will see you!”

John turned pale as he heard all of what he had to do, especially when Andy told him his final demand.

“You have to potty in it too!” he said with unmasked delight in his voice.

“No, Andy. That’s not fair to John,” I quickly said before anyone had a chance to say anything, “you only wear your diaper to bed, no strangers ever see you in a diaper, and you certainly would never poop in it.

So don’t make John do all of that, he’ll wear a diaper. For one day. Indoors and in the backyard, if you wish, but no pooping in the diaper. Deal?”

“Okay, dad,” Andy yielded to my proposal, sighing.

I think my counteroffer had Cheryl warm up to the idea of her son being forced into a diaper. She agreed to letting it happen, but only if John truly wanted to.

“I will do anything,” John cried out, “I just want us to be friends again.”

I made a call to my boss asking for a day off from work, as I had some issues at home to deal with. It was as close as I could get to the true reason for spending a Monday at home. Instead of having John and Andy go to their nursery school, they’d stay at my house. I’m not sure how Cheryl explained it to Lyle, John’s father. Maybe she never mentioned it. But John did show up, ringing my doorbell at 7:30 AM that morning.

Andy let him in and dragged him into the bathroom while he yelled to me that John was here now. I was outside, yes, you guessed it, having a smoke. When I got into the bathroom, both Andy and John were there, John still wearing all his clothes including his shoes. I shooed Andy out of the bathroom. He tried to argue that he had to see John get the diaper on.

“John has seen me get my diaper on lots of times!” he whined.

In the end I pushed him out the bathroom door and locked it behind him. I turned to John and got down in a crouch in front of him. I put my hands on his small shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

“Buddy, are you sure you want to do this?” I asked him.

“He gotta! He promised!” Andy shouted from behind the closed door.

“Andy, go to your room. Now!” I said loud enough for him to hear.

“But daaaad!”

I waited until I heard Andy had stomped his way into his room and close the door. Then I asked John again.

He nodded in consent as he kept the eye contact.

“I’ll do it. Anything for Andy.”

‘Oh, don’t you dare say that to Andy,’ I thought. But nodded back to the boy standing there in front of me.

“Come, up you go,” I lifted him onto the changing pad.

As he sat there, I slipped his shoes off. His little socks followed. I pulled his jumper off, leaving the boy in just his pants and presumably underwear.

“Lie down buddy,” I told John.

He lay flat on his back, his legs bent at the knees and lower legs dangling over the edge of the counter top. I undid his belt and unzipped his pants before undoing the button. He knew what was about to happen as he lifted his butt off the pad, making it easy for me to tug the pants and his little power rangers briefs off his pelvis. He parked his butt back on the pad so I could get both garments completely off his body. I tickled his naked tummy just a little to get some of the tension out of the room.

I got a diaper from the stack and unfolded it. As Andy had said earlier, John had seen him getting prepared for the night. So John knew what to do, when the diaper was placed under his butt. It was really a tight fit, but I got it on him and readjusted the snips to make the diaper sit a little snugger around his waist. I even made sure the leak barriers were in the right position by running my index fingers just inside the diaper around the legs openings.

I guess it was just out of habit, after all, the diaper wasn’t supposed to be used. It was only to be worn like underwear really.

With John now properly attired, I helped him down to the floor and let him join my son in his bedroom.

I folded his clothes, laying them on the counter. I told the boys to behave themselves and let them know I’d be in the garage. I had to figure out why one of the shock absorbers was so noisy when driving over speed bumps. About an hour later, the two boys appeared in the garage.

“Daddy, John needs a new diaper,” Andy informed me.

I slid out from underneath the car. From my position laying on the floor, I could clearly see John indeed had wet his diaper. If the bulging of the diaper didn’t reveal that fact, the color of his cheeks surely did. The poor kid was blushing fiercely.

“Oh John, buddy. You really didn’t have to pee in your diaper.”

“Yes, he does!” Andy stressed, “It’s what he promised yesterday.”

“Tiger, I said he didn’t have to potty in the diaper.”

“Nuh uh, you said he didn’t have to poop in it. He didn’t poop, he peed.”

Sighing, and silently cursing at myself for having been outsmarted by a five years old, I got to my feet and ripped the latex surgical gloves off my hands. Lyle had given me a box of those gloves for when I fiddled with my car. It was a great way to keep grease and old oil from messing up my hands, sometimes for days after having done some minor repair. I followed the boys to the house and into the bathroom.

When I told Andy to get lost, he just shook his head at me. And then John told me he could stay and watch. It was getting a bit too much when Andy brought out the foot stool he’d stand on to wash his hands. He sat it right next to the counter and got up on it.

“Are you going to change him or should I?” I ironically asked Andy.

“You do it, I just wanna see.”

I fished out a new diaper unfolding it. I wanted to limit the time John would lay naked to the bare minimum. Not only because I knew it had to be uncomfortable for him to have a warm diaper removed and getting the cold air to his private bits. But I also wanted to shield him a little from Andy’s scrutinizing eyes. Oh, I know they were used to playing naked in the tub and sometimes even in the living room or in the backyard, but this was different.

I quickly released the snaps on the diaper, then picked up John’s legs in one of my hands. Drenched diaper off, (sheesh, how much could that boy pee anyway?) a thorough but very quick wash with a damp washcloth of his diaper area, and he was back in a new dry diaper. We went through 4 diapers that day when John was a baby. What I didn’t realize at the time, was that Andy made John drink a lot of water, forcing him to pee himself several times throughout the day. It was only years later, when Andy told me about it, I finally found out.

The next “interesting” incident with the boys took place a couple of months later. It had been a cold, rainy and windy day, but that hadn’t kept the boys indoors. With proper clothing kids can play outside all year long. John and Andy were no different from other little boys. After a couple of hours playing in the backyard they came into the kitchen looking really chilled. I heated milk for cocoa while they got out of their wet winter clothing.

John tried to help Andy get his boots off while I got some buns in the oven and put small plates and big mugs on the table. It was a pretty fun sight, seeing Andy sitting on the floor and John pulling on one of his boots. The boot was stuck on the foot, so John was really just pulling Andy across the hardwood floor in small steps. I knew well just how hard they can be to remove. I could lift Andy from the floor by his booted foot making him laugh his head off hanging upside down.

“John, try to stand with Andy’s foot in between your legs,” I suggested, “No turn the other way.”

He had been facing him. John turned around and looked up for more guidance.

“Lift the foot up, so you have it between your thighs. Yes, like that. Crouch down a little and hold onto the boot with all your superpowers.”

I looked at my son laying with his back on the floor.

“Now tiger, put your other foot up on John’s bum. Yes right on his bum cheek. Now push at his bum with your leg.”

“John, wiggle his boot around a little. Wasn’t that easy?”

“Uh huh,” John said and discarded the by now freed boot by throwing it towards the door leading out to the yard.

“Now do the same with the other boot.”

I knew John could take his boots off on his own, but he wanted Andy to help him all the same. I turned my attention from the boy buns to those I had in the oven. Well, they were more like rolls, I mean the ones in the oven. They were getting crispy and turning nice golden in color.

“Go and take the wet clothes off in the hall, will you? Don’t forget your boots! And wash your hands.”

Sometimes being at home was just like being in the National Guard. Always issuing orders. I had worked my way up a little. I was the squad leader now, taken over from the previous who had left the Guard. I was also a drill sergeant/instructor at one of the National Guard’s schools. I spent some of my vacation days on it but mostly I used the overtime I’d put in at work to spend on the Guard. I wanted to spend time with my son too. Sometimes it was terribly hard to balance the two.

The boys came back to the kitchen. Naked.

“What happened to your undies?” I asked them.

“They got wet,” Andy said matter-of-factly.

“I’ll sort them out after we eat.”

The boys had their early afternoon snack of a roll and warm cocoa, then scampered off to Andy’s bedroom. They closed the door behind them. More gentle this time. I had to tell Andy a couple of times that he didn’t have to slam it to make me understand they didn’t want to be disturbed. I cleared the table and went to sort out their clothing. The bibs and coats were quite wet on the outer surface, but the underwear wasn’t really. If anything just slightly damp.

Both boys enjoyed being naked. If I had let them, they’d probably play in the street or on the front lawn in the buff. I didn’t allow Andy to play in the street unsupervised and even so, I’d not let him go out there naked. I could easily imagine what the neighbors would have thought. In the backyard it was different, it was surrounded by fairly high and really dense hedges to the neighbors and a wooden privacy fence at the end of the yard. So they could do whatever they wanted there, without anyone able to see.

That day, where the boys had eaten rolls naked at my dining table, winter had just arrived. It was the first week of December. Andy had already started stockpiling advertising magazines from all the stores selling toys. Trying to make a wish list for Christmas. He could spend hours by himself and with John, trying to decide what to go for. What they would be having the most fun from playing with. Right now, I knew, even if I couldn’t see, they were playing with the toys they had been born with.

I rinsed the streaks of mud off the bibs and coats in the tub using the sprayer. There was no reason to put them in the washing machine as they’d only end up in the same state the day after. Or maybe later the same day. I had a look at the underwear the boys had been wearing. Not just a look, but a sniff too. They didn’t have much of a smell, if anything mostly from the fabric softener from when they had been washed. But there was a tiny whiff of something else.

It was just the briefest of hints, but it was there. Anyone who appreciated that smell would have been able to pick it up. You didn’t need to be a bloodhound to do it. The smell of little boy. At the front there was the smell of pee, where overlooked or forgotten, maybe even ignored drops of pee had exited the small penis. Only to be absorbed by the cotton fabric of which their underwear was made. There hadn’t been enough pee to leave a noticeable stain. Just the ever so slight smell.

And in the seat of the underwear. Oh, my. Still only a faint fragrance, but clearly the sweet smell of a boy’s butt. I’d be able to tell that smell from hundreds of others.

I finally shook the thoughts out of my mind, I really had to go wash the kitchen and hall floors. Before the traces of mud would spread even more. With the bibs and coats in the dryer, underwear on the counter I went to clean the floors. Afterwards, standing outside trying to suck the nicotine from a cigarette in double time, cursing silently at the bad weather, a naked John opened the door just enough to poke his head out.

“Teddy, why does it tickle so much when Andy sucks on my dicky?”

TBC