Big Brothers Know Best

 

Summary: When high-school senior Tim has an accident after a night of drinking his big brothers decide that maybe they liked him better as a sweet little kid. Fluffy and filled with brotherly love.

 

Prologue:

 

Let me start off with my name: I'm Tim. I'm a high school senior and I have two older brothers: Austin and Jake. Austin is 19, he just graduated, and I tell him everything and Jake is 20. Imagine the archetypal protective big brother and multiply it by 10 and you've got Jake. I'm not saying I'm a baby or anything but in this family, Austin and Jake treat me like it. Don't take this the wrong way or anything, I love my brothers and can't imagine a world without them but sometimes I just wish they would stop looking out for me all the time. Or at least Jake would, Austin usually backs off when I ask. Jake though, he always knows "best". I guess this leads me right into my story: a story of big brothers knowing "best"...

 

Part 1:

 

"Hey Timmy!" A voice yelled over the several dozen writhing bodies at the latest high school pre-graduation post-spring break party.

 

"Yeah?" I yelled back, already recognizing the owner of the voice as my older brother Austin.

 

"Should you really be drinking?" He said as he walked up to me. Austin is 6'2 easily with a muscular build, handsome features, and blonde hair. He was the talk of the school when he was around and I'm perpetually in his shadow as his "baby bro".

 

"Me? Drinking? This is soda!" Wow, I almost managed that with a straight face.

 

"Soda? Soda doesn't smell like Jack Daniels." Ouch.

 

"Look, I'm a senior alright? Don't pull a Jake on me."

 

Austin cracked a small smile.

 

"You’re a 17 year old senior. Hand it over."

 

"But-" I pleaded.

 

"Now." Uh-oh.

 

"Fine." I handed him the booze and proceeded to pout. After a few minutes Austin started looking a little unsure.

 

"Well...." he began hesitantly.

 

"Well what?" I had to restrain myself from smiling.

 

"If you just drink a little and only for tonight........and don't tell Jake!"

 

I answered in the affirmative, took the drink, and walked off.

 

He could never resist my pout.

 

**********

 

The party was in full swing and I was actually starting to have a little fun. I glanced over the room and spotted Timmy, dancing on a table.

 

Wait...dancing on a table?!

 

"Oh man..." I muttered to myself realizing already that Jake was gonna chew me out for exposing our brother to the evils of the world. Namely: hard liqour.

 

As I started sifting my way over Timmy slipped, and fell.

 

All the way down.

 

"Christ!" I yelled as I ran over to help him up.

 

"Kiddo, you have got to learn to take it easy on the drinks." As I was saying this I scanned his body for injury, a habit long practiced. "Maybe we should head home."

 

"No wait, the conga line isn't over." he managed weakly while rubbing his head. Was he serious? I wrapped an arm around his waist and together we made it as far as the parking lot before he passed out. Although to my credit I managed to scoop him up before he hit the pavement. Mostly.

 

"You have got to lay off the sweets Timmy." Geez the kid was heavier than when he was 11. Go figure.

 

Laying him out in the back of my pickup I noticed a stain in the most unusual place....

 

**********

 

"Did he seriously piss himself?! That is hilarious! Black mail material for life man!"

 

I hate it when Jake, my older brother, rants.

 

"Look, he was wasted off his ass. Let's not give him a hard time...ok?"

 

He turned to me with a vicious grin:

 

"Ok, not alot of teasing."

 

Jake may be the most protective SOB on the planet when it came to me and Timmy, especially Timmy, but sometimes he made me wonder....

Suddenly he turned to me:

 

This is the 3rd time he's peed his pants in a month."

 

"So...." I didn't get it.

 

"I've got a plan".

 

Part 2:

 

Ok, memo to self: hangovers suck.

 

Like hell. So does table dancing, vomiting, singing off key and whatever the hell else I did last night at the party...

 

Wait a minute?

 

I'm not at the party! Where am I? How'd I get here? Why is it so damned bright?!

 

"Hey sleepyhead."

 

"Hey Jake" I groaned. Now I remember: Walking to the parking lot with Austin, him carrying me home (soooo embarrassing), and me wett-

 

Oh no.

 

When my eyes finally adjusted to the light the first thing I noticed was that Jake was in my bedroom, seemingly not wearing any clothes. Scratch that, he was wearing those A&F tighty-whities that he loves so much. He hates it when I call his "briefs" tighty-whities. Hehe.

 

The second thing I noticed was that I was in my bed, stripped down to my boxer-briefs which means........

 

"Austin changed me when we got home last night didn't he?" Crap.

 

"Actually..." he said, turning so that the sun light from my window hit his 5'10 frame perfectly, "I did."

 

That was when I noticed the strange feeling between my legs....

 

"Tell me I'm not wearing a diaper."

 

"Timmy, you're wearing a diaper."

 

Shit.

 

I always knew Jake was slightly sadistic but I didn't think he'd ever torture me. Me, the beloved little brother. As he came closer though I noticed a certain spark of uncertainty in his eyes. Weird, Jake was never uncertain.

 

"Look man, don't get mad, okay? You know I always try and do what's best for you and last night when you came home passed out and soaking in pee I thought that..." he trailed off.

 

"What?!!" I snapped. Ok, so I wasn't taking the whole diaper thing well. "What did the all-knowing Jake think?".

 

"I thought that maybe if my little brother was gonna act like a baby we should treat him like one!" Jake snapped back testily. Woops, now I made him mad. Probably not good when he's older and stronger than me.

 

"I thought that we should put you back in diapers, change your room back to a nursery, feed you ourselves, and just generally treat you like the sweet little kid you used to be. I thought - and still think - that this would be the perfect way to show you limits, impose structure."

"What does Austin think about all this?" I tried, hoping my other brother, hell my best friend, would come to my rescue.

 

"He thinks I'm right. He thinks that you've been stepping out of line lately and he thinks this is a good solution. I hope that you will too."

 

"Why though? Why baby me? Why not ground me, you've done it before."

 

"It hasn't seemed to work."

 

Silence.

 

"Why aren't you wearing pants?" I shot off.

 

Jake smirked, a little.

 

"It's like 2 o'clock in the afternoon. This is my lounge wear."

 

"Well your tighty-whities are bothering me."

 

"Why you little..." He leaped on me and startling tickling me.

The bastard.

 

Part 3:

 

After Jake told me his plan I was shocked. He'd had to convince me but after awhile....he had it planned out really well. Plus, the whole "regression" theory seems to have real potential in reigning in our brown eyed, brown haired, gangly little brother.

Plus he does this wierd thing with his eyes, damn his blue eyes. Timmy's pout has nothing on this.

 

Anyways, I changed Timmy into a clean pair of underwear and tucked him into bed. Jake sent me off to buy supplies for the new nursery of Timmy's (diapers, toys, blankets, crib, bottles, milk, etc.) and I figured I should go anyway. I never could work myself up to making Timmy do anything, that was always Jakes job. Darn him for being so cute.

 

When I got back I gave Jake the stuff and let him handle it. I went off to make a sandwich. When I finally peered in the room I saw the last thing I expected:

 

Jake, clad only in his briefs, was tickling Timmy, who was laughing uncontrollably.

 

"Hey Jake, lay off the kid." I laughed. It was good to see that Timmy had taken it well.

 

"Yeah Jake, stop, I'm gonna piss myself."

 

Jake only go more ferocious in his attacks after that and Timmy only giggled more. He was so much like a little kid, maybe that was why it was so easy to imagine us taking care of him like we did just a few years ago. Suddenly though, Timmy went still.

 

"Uh guys." He stuttered.

 

"Yeah Timbo?" Jake gasped out.

 

I figured it out a second before he got it out.

 

"I think I just umm....."

 

"Jake, can you let me talk to Timmy alone for a second?" Big brother to the rescue.

 

"Sure." he said and as his well-toned body brushed past me I felt his question, barely contained.

 

As soon as he was gone I grabbed a diaper and some powder.

 

"Thanks man." Timmy smiled, relief clearly evident.

 

"No problem, now just lay still so I can clean you up." He stiffened at that.

 

"Look, Jake told you the new rules, so lie still." He looked at me with a slight mixture of pain and betrayal.

 

"Ok..." and he did exactly that: he didn't move a muscle the whole time I removed the soil garment and taped a fresh diaper over him.

 

As I was turning to leave he muttered under his breath, something that sounded scarily close to "asshole".

 

"Timmy, look at me" I grabbed his chin and gently pushed it up.

 

"You are my little brother, you're my best friend. I love you and no matter what happens I'll do anything for you. You know that right?"

 

I was shaking on the inside, waiting for the answer.

 

"I guess...." he shrugged.

 

I smiled, anxiety now gone. "Great......now let's get you set up in your new nursery."

 

"You'll have to carry me there." He laughed, his eyes alight with a mischievous twinkle.

 

I guess he thought I wouldn't.

 

I did.

 

Epilogue:

 

Reading bedtime stories is hard. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. I just tucked Timmy into bed, fresh from bath-duty with Austin, and then he starts whining for a story.

 

"Pwease Jake?" His big brown eyes looked at me, already full of tears.

 

I sighed. "Fine." What can I say? Ever since we put him "back to basics" as Austin refers to it, not only has he become his old adorable self, but he actually seems to be regressing to toddlerhood. I set out to make it easier on me, I worried about the kid, but now I realized he needed this too: he needed to feel secure again and I'd never been one to cause him any harm.

 

I selected his favorite, Polar Express, and began reading. Flash forward 15 minutes and I find myself gazing down at my 18-year old baby brother who is lying rather contentedly asleep in his crib. Before I can stop myself I've smoothed the hair out of his eyes and kissed his forehead, what I said next though was completely intentional:

 

"I love you Timmy."

 

From the hallway Austin smiled and walked on to bed.

 

-M.

 

Feedback and future story ideas are greatly appreciated.

 

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