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Shane was having another one of those times where he was feeling overwhelmed with the world around him, and simply going into an autistic shut down wasn’t helping, so he regressed deep into Little Shane. Thankfully they were in the middle of their yearly two week total off season because Shane had been happily diapered since the moment he stepped through their front door four days ago. He’d slept in the special fold-away crib Ilya had had built for him when he’d realized that sometimes, sleeping in a big bed wasn’t what Shane needed mentally. Unfortunately for Ilya, though, Shane was also in full on brat mode and had been a struggle to care for.
Today was no exception. Ilya had woken up around eight to work out before getting Shane up and ready for the day. He’d puttered around the house doing chores, and called Yuna for a long chat. She and David knew about Shane’s regressions, though he’d never told them. They simply knew their son well enough that they could tell when he was trying to put on a front as an adult but failing miserably. Neither of them had dealt directly with his Little side, but they were extremely supportive and Ilya appreciated it. He’d call for advice when he himself felt overwhelmed or blindsided by one of Shane’s moods. Today he’d just wanted to chat with his mom-in-law as the favorite son.
“Ilya, how nice to hear from you!” Yuna chirped happily when she answered. “How are you doing?”
He sank onto one of the stools at the kitchen island and sighed, taking a long drag of coffee before he replied, “Is mostly good. Except that Shane is on one of his tirades.”
“Oh no.” She breathed, sympathy in that gust of air. “Normal one or… or Little Shane?” She stumbled over it when they talked about it sometimes, but Ilya couldn’t blame her. Wouldn’t blame her. “If it’s Little Shane, I can just imagine what kind of monster he’s being.”
“Little Shane.” Ilya confirmed, taking another rejuvenating sip of his scorching hot bean juice. “He has been very difficult since our final team meeting for the year.” He imagined his mother shaking her head. “Refusing to go to bed or come to the table to eat. He is leaving his toys everywhere and won’t pick them up. He is the worst I have seen in very long time.”
Yuna hummed. “Yeah, that sounds about right. With how fastidious about cleaning he is now as an adult, you would think he would’ve brought it with him from childhood but nope. He was an extremely messy child and he absolutely abhorred being told what to do.”
Ilya snorted derisively. His husband was the biggest stickler he’d ever met when it came to cleanliness. Dishes were not to be left in the sink at any point, unless they were to be used again within a few hours. Recycling and trash were rigidly separated. Laundry was done every other day without fail, including their sheets and the bed was never allowed to stay sheetless. They had four sets of sheets that they cycled through so they didn’t wear them out too quickly with the regularity of their washing. The heavy bedding was washed every two weeks on Saturday. And twice a week a house cleaner came and wiped down every single surface until it shined, including, but not limited to, baseboards and the vinyl vertical shades they had in the living room. Their housekeep wasn’t allowed in their closet because of privacy reasons; they kept all of Shane’s Little paraphernalia in there, though it was kept in a locked chest. They didn’t want to chance anything being found and then gossiped about. They trusted Helga implicitly, but it wasn’t a risk worth taking, and they didn’t question it. They quietly went about their business with a smile on their face, and a few joking words. Ilya and Shane loved them like family.
“Makes sense.” He harrumphed, groaning as he stretched, joints popping as they released. “I love him, but he is very difficult child. I congratulate you on raising him so well.” Yuna’s snort of laughter was anything but ladylike and Ilya loved it. Just as he was about to say more, there was a shout from his bedroom and he sighed. Deeply.
“Papa!” Shane hollered, voice high and whiny, nasally from sleep. “Papa, where are you!”
“Ah, speak of the devil.” Yuna said and he could just imagine the sly grin she was wearing. “I should probably let you go before he chews you out for ignoring him. Good luck~” She didn’t wait for a response before she clicked off.
“Pa. Pa!” His husband screamed, sounding on the verge of tears.
“Okay, okay malysh. Papa is coming.” Ilya placed his empty coffee mug in the sink and slumped upstairs to get Shane ready for the day. When he arrived, Shane was kneeling on the bed with his thumb in his mouth, stuffed centaur dangling from the crook of his elbow, and diaper bulging. His lips tilted into a smile when Ilya stepped around the corner, bouncing and squishing his diaper which made a loud squelching noise. The only thing dry about him right now were his wide brown eyes which stared at him with hidden mischief. “Mmmm, really malysh? Papa thought you were in trouble.”
“Nope!” Shane giggled, trying to pop the P and failing with his thumb still stuffed between his lips. “I miss’d you.” He said, sitting back on his heels with a shining grin.
Ilya approached the bed with his arms held wide open. Shane fell into them, abandoning his stuffed animal to wrap his arms around Ilya’s waist, burying his head into his stomach. “Did you have a good sleep, kótik?” Shane vigorously nodded. “That’s good. I see you made potty. Should papa get you all cleaned up?”
“Mmmmm, no!” Shane giggled again, wrapping himself tighter around Ilya, nearly leaving him breathless. Little space or not, Shane was still a full grown man with the strength of a professional athlete.
“Oof, kótik, loosen up please.” Ilya reached behind him to grab Shane’s wrists, pulling but unable to loosen his grip. “Kótik.” He said, warning in his tone.
Shifting onto his butt and scooting to the edge of the bed, Shane kicked his feet and kept his tight hold as he shouted, “No, no, no! I gonna stay here all day!” Before Ilya knew what was happening, Shane had opened his mouth and chomped down on what little bit of loose skin Ilya possessed through his shirt. Ilya yelped and had to resist swatting the back of Shane’s head.
“Shane.” Ilya was no longer playing around, his grip tight on Shane’s wrists as he forced him to let go. “This is not okay. We do not bite.” Shane’s bottom lip jutted out. “No. That is never okay. Apologize.”
To Ilya’s horror Shane’s eyes glazed over with tears as he tilted his head back to look up at Ilya. “I-I-I d-di-dn-’t d-d-do anything.” His voice trembled. “Why are you y-yelling at me?” A second later tears streamed down his face as he full on wailed, arms like limp noodles in Ilya’s grasp and his head hung limp against his shoulders.
Ilya said absolutely nothing, hoping to wait out the tantrum. It didn’t last long as Shane ran out of tears to cry. “Are we done now?” Ilya crossed his arms over his chest with his eyebrows raised. Shane wiped at his eyes with the back of his forearms and sniffled, clearly still pouting. “Shane. Are we done?”
“Yes.” He mumbled, eyes cast down.
“Okay so. What do we say to papa for hurting him?”
“I’m sowwy.” He said dutifully, though Ilya didn’t think he meant it.
“Do not make me ask for apologies again or you will be in time out, yes?” Shane nodded, wiping away some snot. Ilya grabbed a tissue from the side table and dutifully wiped Shane’s nose, even as he fought it. “Now, let me change you and we can go have breakfast, and you can say hello to Anya.”
Without another word, Ilya disappeared into their walk-in and made a beeline for the small chest tucked away in the back corner. Using a magnetized key they kept on the back side of it, he unlocked it to reveal a large stash of diapers, a large plastic changing mat, and other necessary supplies. He tucked everything into the crook of his arm and straightened, gazing at the large selection of onesies they’d collected over time. Since he’d chosen a fairly simple diaper, white with disappearing daisies, he grabbed a dark red onesie covered in cartoon train cars, half of them blowing smoke with smiling faces and the others making different faces of all sorts.
Back in the room, Shane had found one of his pacifiers and stuck it in his mouth, chewing on the nipple as he stared vacantly into space. First making sure he was okay, Ilya laid out the changing mat and set everything within reach, then went about getting Shane naked. Unsnapping his pajamas at the crotch, Ilya helped Shane to his feet and then shimmied the clothes off him, dumping them to the side. Then he laid Shane out on the mat, thankful that his diaper hadn’t leaked, though it was clearly at its limits. Unable to stop himself, Ilya gave it a few solid pats, finding a bit of joy in the way it squelched and made Shane squirm. It brought a massive smile to his face.
He spent no time at all cleaning Shane up, wiping thoroughly over his groin and between his cheeks and powdering those same spots almost to the point of excess. Once satisfied, he slipped the diaper under Shane’s bottom and taped it up, sliding his fingers along the leg holes to make sure that it was properly situated. The whole time, Shane stared off into the distance, clearly upset about Ilya getting after him for the biting, but if it kept him behaved long enough for a quick change, Ilya wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Sitting Shane up he pulled the onesie over his head and snapped it closed, straightening it out. “Okay, Shane. Now we can go down and play, okay?” He got a one shouldered shrug in response. That wouldn’t do. “Shane. Look at me.” He didn’t. “Shane Hollander-Rozanov you look at me right this instant.” Ilya gently grabbed his chin and forced their eyes to meet. “Why are you upset?” At first he didn’t think Shane would reply, he sucked his lips into a pucker around the pacifier and kept shaking his head.
Eventually, when Ilya didn’t give in to the tantrum he said, “You yelled at me.”
“No.” Ilya corrected. “I admonished you for hurting me. Do you enjoy hurting me?”
Ugh, the waterworks. Shane’s brown eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled as he shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to hurt you, papa.” He sniffled, paci falling from his mouth as he tried to hold back his sobs.
Ilya stroked his cheek with one thumb and said, “But you bit me and didn’t want to apologize. Do you want me to be biting you, mm? Do you think that biting does not hurt?”
“I said I was sowwy.” He said, looking up at Ilya through impossibly long eyelashes. “I don’t want to be bited.”
“Mmmm, you see, papa doesn’t believe that apology. But is okay. If you don’t behave, you just won’t get to do fun things today.” Ilya stroked his head. “Also, papa will never bite you, no matter how delicious you look.” Playfully Ilya leaned in and nibbled the tip of Shane’s nose, not putting any amount of pressure on it. Shane finally smiled, pushing at Ilya’s chest to get him away. “Okay, malysh. That is enough goofing off. Let us go downstairs.”
Taking Shane’s hand, he made their way downstairs and into the living room where a tower of blocks lay toppled over in one area, and fat crayons with blank coloring pages made a mess on the coffee table. A large mat covered with roads and cheerfully colored houses was spread out near the blocks, a number of different cars - including a custom not-Jeep British Jeep - lined the black felted areas. As soon as Shane’s eyes caught it he was off to the races, squealing with joy as he plopped himself down and immediately picked up the toy car that looked almost identical to his own. “Do you want something to drink, kótik?”
“Yes pwease.” Shane intoned without looking at him. “And snack?”
“Okay, kótik, you can have a snack.” Ilya replied, turning towards the kitchen. There, he pulled one of Shane’s sippy cups from under the sink, giving it a good rinse, and filled it with low sugar orange juice, diluted with a bit of water. He grabbed one of the divider plates from the top shelf of one of the cupboards and loaded it with a selection of flavored crackers - onion and rosemary was Shane’s favorite - a few slices of cheese, and a handful of cut strawberries and grapes. He made a plate for himself but added a small selection of deli meat so he could make mini cracker sandwiches. When he returned and placed the plate by Shane’s hand, he was hardly given a nod of acknowledgement as he was too invested in whatever imaginary play he was participating in. Sighing with defeat, Ilya made sure that the cup made it into Shane’s hand before he went to enjoy his own breakfast snack on the couch while watching some TV.
Before he knew it, hours had passed. Shane had spent the majority of the morning bouncing between activities, occasionally stopping play to cuddle with Ilya on the couch, which Ilya adored, but Shane seemed highly invested in driving his little cars through his town and talking with the imaginary townspeople. Most of the conversations were nonsense, but in Little space, it didn’t have to make any sense. Unfortunately, Shane’s body did not care that he was busy. It demanded morning constitutionals like any other day.
About mid morning, Shane paused and scrunched his face, stomach clenching as he passed an absurd amount of gas. A moment later, the seat of his diaper expanded as he loosed his bowels, grunting as he let it all out. When he’d finished, he sighed happily, grinned, and went right back to playing. Ilya had been out of the room when it had happened, and hadn’t returned for quite a long time. When he did, he was more focused on getting Shane fed than checking his diaper so the two of them made it through lunch, and another bout of play before Ilya finally noticed the brown creeping around the leg holes of said diaper.
Standing only to crouch when he approached Shane he said, “Shane, do you need to be changed sweetheart?”
“No. I okay.” Shane said firmly, shifting on his bottom so he could drive his car along the road closest to his legs. “I haven’t made peepee.” His brows furrowed as he concentrated on keeping the truck in its lane. Ilya winced thinking about all that refuse spreading with each movement Shane made. Cleanup was going to be a bitch.
“I am not so sure about that. Papa can see that you have made stinkies so you have likely also made peepee.” Ilya reached out and pinched Shane’s butt, partially because he wanted to, but mostly because he wanted to see if he could tell the total damage. Which was… Extensive. “Papa would like to change your into a fresh diapee so you don’t get an icky rash. Can I do that?”
Shane’s face scrunched with impunity. “I don’t want to, papa. I’m playing right now.” To Ilya’s frustration, Shane got on his hands and knees to crawl a few feet away, picking up another car to race on the track.
“I need to change you, Shane. It will hurt you if I don’t.”
“No!” Shane yelled, scaring the dog who was sleeping peacefully on the couch. Anya blinked her big eyes, yawned, gave an aborted yip, before closing her eyes and laying her head back down. They’d just been chastised by a creature a tenth their size. “I don’t wanna!”
“Malysh.”
Shane turned to face him and scowled before doing the unthinkable - he picked up one of his large, wooden blocks, and threw it at Ilya. Still crouching, Ilya barely managed to avoid getting hit in the shoulder by falling to the side onto one knee. Oh. Oh ho ho ho ho. Oh no. This? This behavior was absolutely, one hundred percent, irrefutably not okay. Ilya’s expression darkened into one of quiet fury.
“Up. Right now. We are done playing for today.” Ilya got to his feet and walked purposefully, footsteps heavy, right up to Shane where he reached down and grabbed him by the wrist, tugging upwards. “What you just did is not okay. That is never okay. So now you will sit quietly and do nothing after you get a new diaper.” The wide eyed look and pouting bottom lip did absolutely nothing to abate Ilya’s ire this time around. “Don’t give me that look, Shane. This was my very last straw. Get. Up.” Finally he got Shane to his feet. Without looking back, he dragged Shane up to their bedroom where Ilya stripped him out of everything, not even having the wherewithal to care about the explosion in Shane’s pants.
Without a single word, not making a sound even as Shane whimpered and pleaded, Ilya cleaned Shane up, hands still gentle despite his anger. Shane’s punishment was yet to come. Once his bottom was clean, Ilya sat on the edge of the bed and dragged his husband close, silently telling him that he was to lay across his knees. The younger man shook his head violently, his pleading getting louder with every word.
“I’m so sorry, papa, please don’t. I won’t do it again, please!”
“This is not a request, kótik. I have given you grace for days and days and days. And what do you give me in return? You have bitten me, and now you are throwing dangerous objects at me. No. No more. Get over here, and lay down. I will not ask again.” Ilya sat straight, waiting. Shane would lay across his knees of his own accord. That was not in question.
“Nooooo!” His charge yelled, stamping his feet, not caring that he was still completely naked. “I w-won’t t-throw no more, papa, please. I’m sowwwwwwwwy.” Ilya said nothing, waiting even as his own silence grew oppressive. It took a long, long time for Shane to give in to the inevitable, tears streaking down his face as he laid himself over Ilya’s legs, bare ass hanging out for all to see.
Gently, Ilya rubbed each round globe reverently - he was angry, not cruel - and said calmly, “Do you understand why this is happening, malysh?” Still sobbing, Shane nodded. “Good. Do you understand that even though I do this, papa still loves you more than anything in the world?” Another muted nod. “Good. Now, I’m going to begin.” And he brought his hand flat-palmed down against the left cheek, the sound cracking in the air.
Ilya wasn’t gentle, wanting to get his point across. Shane kicked his feet and his arms flailed as Ilya brought his hand down a total of five times against each cheek individually, drawing back for a full swing each and every time. By the time he’d finished, Shane’s bum was as red as a ripe tomato, and a faint outline of Ilya’s hand showed on each side. Shane’s sobs were silent at this point and he laid limply in Ilya's lap.
When Ilya’s punishment concluded, he spent a few minutes rubbing soothing circles over the abused flesh. There was no doubt that Shane’s ass was going to be sore for the rest of the day, and probably tomorrow, but Ilya believed the message had gotten across and that’s really what mattered. Eventually Ilya had Shane lay down on the floor once more so that he could get a fresh diaper on him, being very careful to not put too much pressure on his backside. Finished, Ilya tucked Shane into bed and told him that it was time for a nap as he’d just had a very hard past hour. Shane went willingly, having gone non-verbal.
The rest of the day went smoothly, though, like Ilya had promised, Shane wasn’t allowed to play with either his blocks or his cars anymore. He could color at the coffee table, or watch cartoons, but those were his only choices. In the end, Shane curled up on the couch with a pacifier and didn’t speak a single word all the way up to bed time. He begrudgingly ate his dinner, ordered in pizza, and stroked along Anya’s back, but that was it. Ilya felt a niggle of guilt but the reality was that Shane was a full grown adult, at least in body, and a spanking was not the end of the world. Not only that, but Shane really could’ve hurt Ilya, and while Ilya would let Shane get away with a lot of things when he was in this headspace, he couldn’t let physical harm slide. That just wasn’t acceptable, for adult toddlers or actual toddlers alike.
At the end of the night, Ilya tucked Shane into his crib, understanding that tonight was not a big boy bed kind of night, and kissed his husband gently on the forehead, brushing his hair back as he gazed down into those big, beautiful pools of light. “I love you, my husband.” Ilya murmured, smiling softly at the man. “Now and for always, no matter what.” All he got in response was a few hard suckles on the paci in Shane’s mouth and a slow, tired blink. Yes, today had been a bad day, but in the end, Ilya didn’t think he would change it for a thing.