(Content warning: wet diaper, diaper change, detailed diaper messing.)

By the odd sounds coming out of the bedroom, Dad knew that they were awake. Awake, and not having a good time.

He leaned into the room, poking his head through the door frame. There they were, laying on the bed with their knees raised. Like they expected to give birth at any moment. They were letting out little pained moans of discomfort. Between their naked legs, the unmistakable shape and color of a puffy, crinkly disposable diaper. Not an unusual sight in this colocation, but it was rare to see it so blatantly on display.

He tried to be as silent as possible and withdraw from the room to let them rest. Suddenly, the bed-ridden shape jerked to life and let out a desperate wail, accompanied by little grabby hands motions towards him

“Daaaaaaaaad!” they squealed. “Pleeaaase change meeeeeeee…”

(His name wasn’t Dad. They were roommates. But he had earned the nickname by living the longest-running tenant in this flat, and by being the only responsible adult around. After a while, the nickname just stuck with him.)

“Did you manage to poop?” he inquired from the door.

“Nooooo…” the big baby whined in return. “But my diaper is too wet and it’s starting to itch. Pleeease Daaaaad, saaave meee…”

There was no way he would be able to ignore those distress calls and demanding grabby hands for long. It was like a call of duty for dads everywhere. With a sigh, he flicked the lights on, causing the baby to squint and blink in the sudden brightness. Then Dad casually opened one of the dresser’s drawers and pulled out a new diaper, which he proceeded to unfold. It looked like he had done this hundreds of times before.

They called it ‘Tummy Death’. Whenever their bowel disagreed with something they had eaten earlier, or sometimes for no reason at all. It meant long hours of painful bloating and cramping, while at the same time being unable to relieve anything but gas. It was a recurring problem with them. Outside of drinking plenty of fluids, laying down and waiting for it to pass, there was nothing they could do.

“Well, at least I can see you’re keeping well hydrated” he remarked as he began to rip open their current diaper. The poor thing was discolored, heavy and soaked. The big baby didn’t reply, but let out another painful moan.

One by one, Dad pulled the tapes away. The diaper flopped open with a wet thud, letting a vaguely acidic perfume float in the air. They must have been drinking a lot, he thought, since there was barely any smell.

He grabbed a soft and clean cloth from the nearby dresser and began to wipe down their nethers, making sure they were as dry as possible. He then let out a laconic but commanding: “Up”.

The big baby dutifully obeyed, lifting their butt off the soaked padding. They froze in position for a moment as Dad continued his thorough wiping down. Then he pulled the soaked underwear from under their cheeks, and carefully laid down the new diaper underneath.

“Down” he told them. The butt went down.

“Wait,” he stopped, “I didn’t put it right. Back up.” With a groan, the butt went up again. He adjusted the position of the padding so it would cover their lower back properly.

“Okay, down again” he requested. The butt flopped back down. As it did, it let out a thunderous toot. The baby couldn’t help but let out a snort. “Sorry!”

“You’ve done worse” reassured Dad. He meant it. He was also happy to see that their bowels were still at work, despite Tummy Death.

He finished wiping, doused them with just the right amount of powder, then began the careful procedure of folding the new diaper over their belly and tape it down four times.

All in all, it took maybe five minutes. The result of a long and plentiful experience from Dad’s part. He had probably changed this baby’s butt enough times to be considered an honorary uncle at this point. Usually, these changes were a moment they used to catch up with each other, having a little chit-chat about their day. The kind of stuff you wouldn’t expect from a diaper change, but it was casual and genuine.

But the change had been eerily silent today. The big baby must have been really sick if they couldn’t even muster a joke or two. Dad was slightly worried.

“It’s not going any better?” he asked in a worried voice.

The baby shook their head in denial.

“Do you want me to stay for a little bit?”

The baby nodded their head in approbation.

Dad picked the used diaper back up, folded it into a giant soggy ball, and expertly threw it across the room like a basketball - landing straight into the pail. Another trick he had plenty of opportunities to try beforehand. Then he switched the lights off and crawled on the king-sized bed.

He laid down next to them, snuggling up to their body and putting his hand on their round little belly. Even like that, he could feel the bowels churning underneath. The baby let out a sigh of exhaustion. Tummy Death was strong this time. The least thing Dad could do was to be at their side while they were going through Hell.

Slowly, without saying anything, the two began to hold each other tightly. Dad was smaller than them, but laid down like that on the bed, he looked big enough for a hug. Instinctively, he rubbed the big baby’s back, slowly at first, then a bit more vigorously as they began to relax.

“I’m siiiiick…” they whined.

“I know, I know,” he replied in his most comforting voice.

“It sucks…”

“I agree.”

“I don’t want to be sick anymore.”

“Me too. I want you to feel better.”

“No, not right now. I don’t want to be sick in my life. I don’t want to be sick, forever!”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you.”

He heard a sniff. It sounded like the baby was tearing up. The back rubs doubled in strength and speed.

“You must be tired of me… I'm always sick whenever we do something fun.”

“Nonsense. Don’t say things like that.”

“But it’s just… You have to help me and I can’t ever do anything for you…”

“It doesn’t need to be repaid.”

“Why do you even put up with me?”

He gave them a tender kiss on their forehead.

“I like you just the way you are.”

They didn’t say a word for a little while after that. Dad kept rubbing their back to calm them down, they squeezed against his chest a little bit tighter. With the lights off, no music and nobody around the house, they could have hugged for hours, never noticing how the world kept running without them.

Then, out of the blue, a loud gurgle came out of the baby’s belly. It startled both of them awake. “Oh, oh! Something’s happening!”

In a heartbeat, Dad was up next to them. “Is it coming? Do you need help? Do you think you can get to the bathroom? I can untape you real quick.”

The big baby looked like they hesitated for a second, then replied: “Oh no, no no no, it’s too sudden, I don’t think I can hold it until the bathroom!”

Dad raised an eyebrow. This sounded like a trick. “Really? You’re not even going to try it?”

They raised a hand to their forehead and dramatically proclaimed: “Oh, woe is me, I am but a humble baby with the Tummy Death, I cannot be held up to any standards… How could you be so cruel to me?”

A smile slipped on Dad’s face. Now, that was the baby he knew and loved. Overly dramatic, a tad sarcastic, and playing the helpless little baby role to the fullest. He couldn’t even be mad at them.

“Well, in that case…”

He stepped down from the bed, rolling their baby on their back. He then grabbed their ankles and lifted their legs up, putting them in a sitting-but-laying-down position. The baby wasn’t quite expecting that, but knew instinctively what to do.

They began to push, grunting and holding their belly in pain. Fart after fart erupted from their bottom, muffled somewhat by the layer of padding around their buttocks. But nothing else came out.

“I’m sorry, it’s not…” tried to protest the baby. “I’m trying, but it’s not coming out!”

Dad furrowed his brows. Maybe they needed a bit more help. Slowly, carefully, he began to push the legs towards their chest, making them squat more and more. They let out a groan. Their tummy reacted in kind. And right at the moment where their knees were reaching the height of their chest, it happened.

In a thunderous explosion, the Tummy Death was released in their padding. An avalanche of mud slid down the back of their diaper with a sickening squelch, so forcefully that he saw the padding balloon out in an instant. A mix of gas eruption and wet sloppy sounds in rapid succession echoed the groans of relief the baby was letting out without a hint of shame.

Dad was in a prime position to see the padding inflate, deform, lose color and be filled to the brim with all matters of gross stuff. It was like watching a dam break in slow motion. And he didn’t miss a moment of it. He looked at this slow-motion disaster with pride, mixed with just a pinch of worry that the leak guards wouldn’t hold.

But hold, they did. And after a few more grunts and corresponding wet sounds, the torrential Tummy Death was over. The big baby let out a long sigh of relief, and Dad lowered their legs back down very carefully. He gave them a little pat on the tummy.

“I knew you could do it.”

Smiling coyly, the baby twisted a finger in their cheek, like a rapscallion who had just got away with a dirty prank. “Thank you Dad. I made it all for you!”

“That’s so very kind of you,” he replied sarcastically, reaching tentatively between their legs. Even touching the outside of their diaper felt dirty. That disposable deserved a medal for its honorable service to the baby cause.

They let out a giggle. “Can you change me now, Dad?”

As he was inspecting the damage, he seemed to consider the question. “Mmmmh… No.”

“What?!” they yelped with horror as they tried to sit back up - without success.

“Well, you made quite a mess for me down there,” he teased them. “And you didn’t even take your chance with the bathroom, which would have saved me from changing your butt for the second time in less than an hour.”

“But daaaaaad!” they whined, incapable of hiding their smile at this trick he was playing back on them.

“I think your next change can wait five more minutes, stinky butt,” he declared with a solemn voice. “Or ten. Or twenty. I don’t know, I’m bad with numbers.”

“Daaaaad, noooooo!” they cried out in fake outrage. Once more, they made the grabby hand motion that had attracted him in the room in the first place.

“I’m gross and sick and I'm just a baaaaaaby! Pleeeaaase Daaaad, saaaaave meeeeee!”

There was no way he would be able to ignore those distress calls and demanding grabby hands for long…