Kokoro No Sokokara Aishiteru

KOKORO NO SOKOKARA AISHITERU

~I love you from the bottom of my heart~

“Valentine’s Day sucks.” Yukihime shifted on the hard wooden seat. His voice was high and girly sweet. The crinkle of his diaper filled his ears. The murmur of quiet conversation around the small coffee shop drowned out the noise; no one looked at what appeared to be a pretty girl and her crinkly, bulky underwear. He tugged on his pink and purple plaid skirt, trying to hide the bulge of his thick diaper. He wore leggings under his skirt to keep him warm in the February cold, but the obnoxiously bright pink of his diaper showed through the white fabric. A sparkly lilac sweater, frilly purple socks, and sneakers covered in pink glitter completed the ensemble. He could kill Chika for dressing up like this.

Over his leggings, but under his skirt, a HKAFO-hip knee ankle foot orthosis- brace encased his left leg. The nerves in that leg were damaged; he had only partial control and feeling. The hard plastic and metal of the brace gave him the support he needed to walk. Without his brace, he needed a wheelchair. The metal bar extended past his hip to his waist while the stiff plastic wrapped around his lower abdomen and back. This gave him support and control over the hip that never healed right.

The humongous pink diaper came up past his leggings, past his brace, to his sternum. Chika had bought the wrong size again. Sometimes he thought she did it on purpose.

“You’re the one with a date and a fiance. What are you complaining about?” Chika flicked glittery heart shaped confetti scattered on the round table at him. Red, white, and pink hearts bounced off the red glass vase filled with fake roses.

Yuki stuck his tongue out at her. “The gaijin celebrate this holiday all wrong. Back home, all I have to do is give Ichiro chocolate.” Yuki’s gaze flicked to the heart shaped box of chocolate dipped strawberries covered with heart shaped sprinkles. Not giving Ichiro something on Valentine’s Day felt wrong, even if they were celebrating it the American way. “Then a month later on White Day he gives me white chocolate. It’s easy. Simple. Here, we’re supposed to go out on a date then……s-sex…”

His cheeks pinked. He dropped his eyes, shifting uncomfortably. His diaper crinkled. His pulse sped up and his stomach rolled, queasy with old memories. Old fears and hurts- hands tearing his clothes, squeezing his throat, pinching and twisting his nipples so hard they bled.

He, Chika, and Ichiro were Japanese yokai from Ikai Nippon- the Japanese Otherworld. The Spirit World. The World Over Yonder. Humans lived in Sekai Nippon with all its modern amenities and technology. Some of that trickled into the land of Ikai, but time moved slower there. Yokai society was heavily feudalistic with clans, aristocrats, and fighting- especially against certain kinds of yokai that cannibalized other yokai and humans. Internal conflicts were rampant. Yokai, for the most part, preferred their world to the realm of humans; they felt constrained and sometimes insulted by numerous pointless laws- like the law of 1876 that banned samurai from carrying swords. But they loved the inventions humanity came up with.

Back home in Ikai, Yuki had been sexually assaulted. His sister had almost died from a disease; her medicine was expensive. To afford it, Yuki had sold his virginity to a brothel. The client got off on hurting people; a mutual sexual encounter had turned violent. Yuki ended up in the ICU with a shattered cheekbone, dislocated jaw, crushed trachea, snapped spine, broken ribs, punctured lung, and both hips torn out of joint.

Ichiro was nothing like that rutting bastard. Ichiro was honorable. Patient. Gentle. Yuki trusted Ichiro. Yet the emotional, irrational part of him feared intimacy with his future husband in an arranged marriage.

“Sex is the best part. The round eyes have the right idea. Us women don’t have to do anything but look pretty and we get flowers, chocolate, jewelry, and a fancy dinner. I made sure Ichiro got you something nice.” Chika tugged down her low cut sweater dress so more of her cleavage showed. At home in Ikai, she was one of the most well endowed yokai. She always had men panting after her. Here in America, even with a pushup bra she got less attention than she was used to.

When Yuki didn’t reply, she quit fussing with her clothes and raised her head. Yuki’s big eyes glimmered with remembered pain and fear. His pink lips trembled. The haunted expression gutted her.

“Ah, shit.” She reached across the table, careful not to knock their lattes over, and grasped Yuki’s soft, small hands. Her fingers squeezed his smaller ones. “Ichiro would never hurt you.”

“I know. I’m being stupid. Forget about it.” Yuki tugged his hands free then fanned one in front of his face like chasing away a bad smell. A small, cynical part of him thought Chika was obligated to say those words. She was a distant cousin of Ichiro’s. Both belonged to the Nakatomi clan, the most powerful clan in Ikai. Yuki hailed from the Soga clan, in the lowest rung of aristocracy. The Soga were a dwindling, crumbling house; nobility in name only. Long ago, they had been mighty and powerful. Now they were paupers, their ancestors’ legacy a tattered shroud.

“He loves you. I’m not just saying that to make him look good. He really does love you from the bottom of his heart.” Factual certainty weighed Chika’s words, like she was telling Yuki the sun rose every morning and water was wet.

Chika poked at some sugar packets by the rose vase. Ichiro was the second heir of the Nakatomi clan; a yokai prince. Chika was a distant cousin from a much lower ranking branch within the clan. Her lineage demanded loyalty to her prince.

“I don’t doubt you. I just…don’t understand how. He’s Nakatomi no Ichiro. I’m not a real Soga. I’m not even a real girl.” Yuki’s vision blurred. His long, inky lashes fluttered, blinking back tears.

He’d been born a male yukionna yokai. The snow maidens practiced male infanticide. No one knew why, though some speculated the reclusive yukionna practiced a perverted, inverted mix of Buddhist and Confucian beliefs. Part of that corruption was killing male offspring. Yukionna were also notorious for killing any males they slept with.

As a baby, he’d been left to die, exposed to the elements. Instead, he’d been found by one of the Soga clan and adopted. He couldn’t live as a male yukionna- the yukionna would hunt him down and kill him by any means necessary. His adoptive father had yokai doctors perform a vaginoplasty to turn him female, to protect him. Yuki had been too young to remember. He’d been raised as a girl, even if he never felt like one on the inside.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Chika dropped her sugar packets on the table. Heart confetti scattered. She reached across the table; her fingertips brushed under Yuki’s eyes, wiping away stray tears. “I change your diapers. I know you’re just as much of a girl as I am.”

Yuki winced, scooting back in his seat with a crinkle. His plaid skirt flipped up. The unmistakable diaper bulge was on display for all to see. The pink diaper with purple hearts shone clearly through the white cotton leggings. He didn’t notice. The padding swaddling him grew warm as he peed, but he paid no attention. His diaper would protect him.

He scrubbed his eyes, angrily wiping away the tears. Chika made things sound so simple. Did his vagina really make him a girl? In the eyes of most people, it did. He just saw himself as a surgically modified male who had to live as a girl. He’d never say that out loud. To the rest of the world, he was female. His name- Yukihime, snow princess- was a slap in the face to the yukionna. His adoptive father’s way of showing contempt for the creatures who’d left an infant to die.

“You’re right.” Yuki’s voice was as bitter as the green tea in his untouched tea latte.

Chika licked his tears off her fingers. “Weird. I always forget yukionna tears aren’t salty at all. Tastes like fresh rainwater.” She picked up her four sugar packets, shaking them. “Besides, love isn’t something planned or rational. It just happens.” She dumped the sugar into her latte and stirred, metal spoon clinking off the ceramic cup.

“Ichiro and I were the only yokai on campus until the Nakatomi sent you to be my nanny. Ichiro likes humans. He’s fascinated with gaijin culture. Isn’t that why he came here to finish his medical degree? But we both know he’d never lay with a human. I’m only here because the yukionna sniffed around home too much, in Ikai and in Sekai. Father was concerned for my safety so he sent me here. It’s only natural Ichiro and I sought each other’s company. But for it to turn into a marriage contract between our clans…the Soga are too low for the Nakatomi to even consider…”

“Don’t doubt Ichiro’s love for you. He went to war for you. He never defied the clan head and elders before. He threatened to leave the clan, live in exile. He broke a marriage contract. That man moved the heavens to be with you. He loves you. Don’t doubt him.” Chika’s spoon jabbed at Yuki’s nose. The sweetness of caramel and sugar mixed with the bitter bite of espresso filled his nostrils. Coffee dripped from the spoon onto the fabric roses.

“I don’t. I doubt myself.” Yuki pushed the spoon away. Wet warmth flooded over his crotch with no warning; the thick padding surrounding him whisked the wetness away. He knew all Ichiro had done for him. For them. He defied his clan, broke tradition. Those things meant nothing to humans, particularly the foreign barbarians. To yokai, they were everything. Their family name, their clan, was part of their identity. Their history. Their connection to their ancestors. Their place in the world. To humans, family name meant little. Humans were lost, adrift in a world with no roots to hold them in place. No idea of who they were. Yuki pitied them. And Ichiro had been willing to give all that up for garbage like him.

“But you’re adorable! You’re so cute. Like a baby doll. You’re even prettier than me. Ichiro’s into that sweet, innocent thing. He’s going to love your outfit. Especially those cute Valentine diapers.”

“Chika!” Yuki glowered at her, his pale baby doll cheeks turning pink in an embarrassed blush. He looked around the crowded cafe, but the patrons were all absorbed in their own conversations or phone screens. Even if any of the people close enough to hear understood Japanese, they’d have trouble with the old fashioned cadences of the Ikai dialect. He tugged on his skirt, trying to cover up his gigantic diaper.

“What? Do you want your binky?”

“Chika.” Yuki growled, blushing some more. His baby paraphernalia belonged at home; Chika was teasing.

Chika loudly slurped her caramel latte with espresso shots. She grimaced at the taste. “Needs more sugar. And it’s getting cold.” She wrapped her hands around the cup. A static charge filled the air around her as she used her youki, her yokai energy. Seconds later, steam curled up in wisps from the cup. She reached for the sugar packets.

Yuki’s spoon smacked her knuckles. “You’ve got enough sugar in there to kill a horse.”

“Ouch! Yuki! So mean!” Chika sucked on her abused knuckles, pouting like a kicked puppy.

“And you call me childish.”

“I’m not the one in diapers.”

“I don’t have much choice.” Yuki didn’t sound bitter, just matter of fact. He wasn’t potty trained. Not anymore. Not since he’d started his poison conditioning as a Nakatomi bride. As part of the ruling elite, the Nakatomi-especially the clan leaders- engaged in politics. Ikai politics were dirty and potentially deadly. The elite clans made their members immune to poisons through exposure therapy to build up their bodies’ tolerance. Conditioning started in childhood, with doses increasing little by little until they could survive even a lethal dose. As a lowly Soga, Yuki had not been part of that world. As the bride of the Nakatomi clan’s second heir, he was suddenly thrust into that world.

Yuki was behind in poison conditioning. To catch up, he was on a strict regimen overseen by Ichiro and Chika. With his medical background, Ichiro was in charge. Once a month, Yuki was given a concentrated dose of yokai poison. Normally, poison conditioning was slow, increments over years. Time was a luxury Yuki didn’t have. His conditioning was condensed, his doses concentrated. This sped the process up, but at a price. As his body processed the poison, the higher functions of his brain shut off. This left him an overgrown baby for several days. A trip back to babyhood as his body absorbed and processed the poison.

Yuki recovered just fine for the most part. Most things stayed in tact- his memories, his skills. It was all there. His fine motor skills were sometimes shaky, but he still retained them. His potty training was gone. His brain still retained the steps involved in using the toilet, but his bladder and bowels didn’t get the message. Those muscles could no longer retain his pee or his poop. He never knew he had to go until he felt it enter his diaper.

He knew he should mind much more than he did. His diapers were strangely comforting. The thick padding soothed him, made him feel protected and safe. His pacifier was another source of comfort. Chika and Ichiro made him feel loved. Even when he was in his adult mind, he enjoyed nursing his pacifier. Were those side effects of his conditioning, or had the conditioning led him to finding something he enjoyed?

Ichiro enjoyed the big baby paraphernalia. Rather, he enjoyed babying Yuki with it, even when Yuki wasn’t in his baby mind. At the slightest inclination from Yuki, he was ready to go into daddy mode. To Yuki, Ichiro never fully seemed out of daddy mode.

“You haven’t touched your tea. It’s cold.” Chika’s hands wrapped around his cup. Static crackled the air. The surrounding humans were oblivious to the undercurrent. Steam curled from the cup.

This was as close as Chika would come to apologizing. He knew she wasn’t sorry. She just didn’t like seeing him upset. To show he accepted her peace offering, he wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic and took a long drink. The foamy green liquid was the perfect temperature. Bitter green matcha chased by sweet, creamy vanilla. Chika didn’t apologize, so he didn’t thank her.

Yuki’s cup clanked on the table. “So. After Ichiro picks me up, what are you going to- hey! Get out of there!” His cheeks burned pink at the sight of Chika pawing through his furry lilac diaper bag.

“I’m just double checking I packed enough diapers for you. Oh, yes, there’s plenty. Diaper wipes. Baby powder. Diaper cream so your cute tushy doesn’t get a nasty rash. Anal thermometer. Aw, don’t look at me like that. Everyone knows this is the best way to check a baby’s temperature. And suppositories! To help you go poo-poos when you get backed up.” Chika chirped in a syrupy sweet coo.

He wanted to throw the rest of his latte on her. None of the surrounding gaijin understood her, but they could still hear her. That alone made him want to die of embarrassment. She didn’t pull anything out of the diaper bag, but anyone who looked over could see into it. Then again, anyone who looked at his lap could see the unmistakable diaper bulge under his skirt.

“Chika-chan, are you teasing my baby again?” Ichiro plopped down, straddling a backwards chair he pulled over from another table.

“L-Lord Ichiro! I was-was just making sure I remembered everything.” Chika’s cheeks turned as red as Yuki’s. She quickly zipped up the bag and placed it on the floor by Ichiro’s chair.

Yuki’s heart sped up at the deep timbre of his voice. Ichiro was lanky, lean muscles sculpted from years of sword practice. Dark roots shone in his fire colored hair, gelled up in spikes. His hair was an intentional rebellion against his family; his eyes, unintentional. His almond shaped green eyes sparkled with amusement at Chika’s expense. Those emerald hues came from his gaijin mother- she’d been an Irish Fomoire Fae refuge from Tir Na Nog who married into the Nakatomi clan. Like his son, Ichiro’s father had rebelled against the clan and tradition to get the bride of his choice.

“Yuki-chan. You look adorable.” That green gaze fell on Yuki, slowly drifting down to admire his outfit and lingering on the padded bulk of his crotch. He took Yuki’s slender hand and brushed a kiss over his knuckles. The fingers cradling Yuki’s hand were long and slim, the hands of a skilled surgeon, and calloused from all the time spent holding a sword. Long ago, the humans of Sekai Nippon stopped carrying swords. The days of samurai and clans was long gone. That fire still burned bright in Ikai.

“That was cheesy.” Yuki smiled softly. He didn’t tug his hand away. “You’ve been watching those gaijin romance movies again.” Ichiro’s lips had been soft and warm against his skin. He wanted to feel those lips against his own. His nerves tingled at the thought and his heart sped up.

“That was incredibly forward, even by human standards. In public, too.” Chika’s face was bright red like the confetti hearts on the table.

Yuki blushed and clasped his small hands in his lap, burying them in his skirt. The bottom of his diaper peeked out from under the hem. His hands rested on top of the enormous bulge. Through the layers of skirt and legging, he felt the crinkly plastic shell grow warm. Only then did he realize he was peeing. He sniffed discretely, wondering if he’d messed himself.

“We’re in America. We can do what the Americans do.” Ichiro pushed scattered confetti into a pile.

“I never saw a gaijin do that.” Chika picked up her cup.

“Then they don’t know what they’re missing. It’s fun.”

“Was it an old movie?” Yuki tugged on his skirt some more, trying to pull it down enough to cover his diaper.

“Maybe.” Ichiro blushed at Yuki’s teasing.

Yuki giggled.

“It was romantic in the movie. Don’t American gaijin do stuff like that on Valentine’s Day? The holiday’s supposed to be all about romance.”

“No. The guy gives his girl presents. Flowers, chocolates, diamonds.” Chika frowned at Ichiro’s empty hands.

“I got Yuki something. It’s a surprise for later. When we’re alone. On our date.” Ichiro’s green eyes turned to Chika, answering her unspoken accusation.

“Who cares what the barbarians do? We’re not gaijin. All we do is trade chocolates. Our way is the best.” Yuki didn’t like where this conversation was going. He thrust the strawberries at Ichiro as if they were a shield, sliding the box along the table. Confetti hearts fell to the floor.

“My favorite. They look delicious. Thank you, Yuki-chan.” Ichiro took the box, but his eyes never left Yuki’s flushed face, catching the nervous energy in Yuki’s awkward movements. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Yuki forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You don’t look fine.”

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” Chika’s empty cup thunked down on the table.

Their concern smothered him and comforted him at the same time. He knew Ichiro would never coerce him into something he didn’t want to do. Ichiro was too gentle, too doting. Just thinking of sex opened a doorway into bad memories Yuki wanted to stay firmly closed. He also didn’t want those old emotional and psychological wounds to ruin tonight. Ichiro wasn’t expecting sex, but surely he was hoping for it if Yuki showed an interest in it.

A light bulb clicked in Yuki’s head. He was interested in sex. Maybe he could use it to break the hold the past had on him. He wanted his wounds to heal, turn into scars. Past trauma suffocated him, and he was sick of it. Like falling off a horse and being afraid to ride again. The best thing to do was get back up and ride. Ride Ichiro and face his fears.

His pulse sped up at the thought. Color drained from his face. Part of him wanted Ichiro. Another part was terrified of any sexual intimacy. With anyone. Even Ichiro. Ichiro had touched him many times in a non-sexual way, like when he changed his diaper. That intimate act helped them bond closer together, made him feel safe with Ichiro. His head spun with conflicting emotions; desire and fear.

Warm, calloused hands cupped his cheeks. Ichiro’s worried gaze probed him, checking him over for signs of sickness. “You don’t have a fever, but Chika says you’ve been acting off today.”

“I’m just nervous.” Yuki admitted, closing his eyes. His cheek pressed into Ichiro’s palm, taking comfort in the touch.

“Because it’s Valentine’s Day? We can do something else. We can just cancel. You and Chika-”

“Hey! I have plans, you know!”

“- can go do something.” Ichiro finished, ignoring Chika’s interruption.

“I know. I’m just being stupid.” Bitterness tinged Yuki’s girly voice. He needed to hide his fear better if he wanted to confront it later. Needed to control it instead of it controlling him. Their date hadn’t even started and he was already ruining it. Typical.

“It’s not stupid. After what you’ve been through-”

Yuki’s soft, doll hand covered Ichiro’s mouth, cutting him off. Yuki leaned forward with a crinkle, eyes blazing intently up at Ichiro.

“I want- need- a romantic night. With you.” Voicing that out loud made him feel raw. Exposed and vulnerable. He dropped his eyes and sat back in his seat, suddenly shy. His diaper grew warm as he peed again. “Please.” His plea was a soft, desperate whisper. He shivered, cold inside. The irrational, hurt side of him expected hard rejection and painful insults.

“Always, baby.” Ichiro’s gentle promise soothed his battered spirit. “Why don’t you finish your tea? It’ll help you feel better.”

Yuki nodded his head. Ichiro picked up the green tea latte, using his youki to heat the cup up. Static crackled in the air and along Yuki’s skin. Ichiro held the cup up to Yuki, just like he did with his bottles. The ceramic rim touched his lower lip. Notes of matcha and vanilla filled his nostrils. Yuki parted his lips; Ichiro tilted the cup so he could drink. Warmth flowed down his throat, filling his belly and chasing away chilly self doubts.

Warmth flowed over his vagina, a long stream of pee soaking into the damp padding. The monstrous diaper swelled, pushing past the hemline of his skirt. No chance of hiding his diaper at all now. He didn’t notice. He finished drinking before he finished peeing. Leaning back from the empty cup, he half expected Ichiro to pick him up over his shoulder and burp him like he did when drinking bottles. Instead, Ichiro patted his lips dry with a napkin.

“Feel better?”

Yuki nodded. He’d calmed down, fears pushed to the back of his mind. He was determined to get through this night and conquer the ghosts of his trauma. He didn’t want to be a victim. Didn’t want the asshole who’d hurt him to have power over the rest of his life. He was taking his life back, fighting the mental demons with Ichiro. “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah. Hey, Chika-Chika?” Ichiro turned to Chika. Her empty cup and a note scribbled in sloppy hiragana on the back of a receipt sat on the table in front of her empty chair. Her coat and purse were gone.

Ichiro plucked the note up with two fingers and read it. “Since you’re here, I leave the baby with you, Lord Ichiro. I’m hunting man-meat. I hear gaijin’s good. Maybe I’ll try lesbian. Wish me luck!”

“She makes it sound like a buffet. Italian Monday. Taco Tuesday. Gaijin Wednesday.” Yuki wrinkled his small, pert nose in distaste while Ichiro laughed.

“Almost time for our dinner reservations.”

Yuki nodded then held his hands out for Ichiro to help him up. As he stood up, the locks on his knee and hip hinges of his brace clicked into place. Ichiro tugged Yuki’s pale pink, faux fur coat up his arms then knelt to button it. Yuki was petite; the typical height for a female yukionna yokai. Ichiro was tall- unusually tall, a gift from his Fae gaijin mother. The height difference always made Yuki feel like a child. His head barely came up to Ichiro’s chest.

Ichiro tugged on Yuki’s coat, straightening it. One hand darted under Yuki’s skirt, giving the swollen diaper a discrete squeeze. It squished under his fingers. “You’re pretty wet, but that diaper should hold out through dinner. I want to wait in case you poop. You should be due for a bowel movement soon.”

Yuki’s cheeks turned as pink as the heart confetti. He was used to diaper checks, and Ichiro was fast and discrete. In private, diaper checks reassured him he was loved and cared for. In public, he still got embarrassed when Ichiro and Chika talked about his diapers, even if none of the bystanders could understand them.

Hand in hand, they headed out to Ichiro’s car.


Ichiro’s apartment was a mix of old and new. The building dated back to the 1800s. The owners had gutted it out and refurbished it with the latest modern amenities only the affluent could afford. Old timey charm coupled with the creature comforts of technology. He’d turned a small niche into a makeshift kamidana, a small Shinto memorial shrine to his deceased mother.

Flames crackled in the large Victorian fireplace, warming the large living room. The scent of burning wood mingled with the perfume of roses. Rose petals scattered the floor. Yuki lay on a padded mint green changing mat. Underneath that lay an onikuma skin rug. Ichiro had hunted the demon bear after the enormous beast had eaten several villagers in Ikai.

Yuki was naked except for his diaper. The vinyl of the changing mat was cold on his back while the soft, thick fur of the dead beast rubbed against his skin like silk. His pink pacifier moved rapidly as he sucked. The large rubber nipple filled his mouth, almost too big for him. Drool dribbled down his chin as he tried to calm down.

Tears blurred his eyes; he angrily wiped them away, pressing his palms against his eyelids. He kicked the air with his good leg. Without his brace, his weak leg muscles just twitched. His soaked diaper barely crinkled. The mess inside the saturated padding shifted. He was too used to messy diapers to notice. He took special pills that nullified fecal odor; it worked well on humans. His dirty diapers were an invisible scent to them. For yokai and other supernaturals, the pills only toned down the stench; there was no hiding the smell.

A messy diaper was the least of his problems. He’d ruined their romantic Valentine’s dinner. Ichiro had taken him to a fancy, upscale restaurant. Fine dining with a live orchestra special for Valentine’s Day. Cloth napkins and finger bowls. Thoughts of what came after dinner- him and Ichiro alone in Ichiro’s apartment, having sex- nibbled at his brain no matter how much he tried to ignore them. Those thoughts opened the door to painful memories.

Yuki had grown more nervous and distracted as dinner progressed. Ichiro reassured him, soothed him. Fed him. Offered to call the date off. Yuki repeatedly refused. At the end of the meal, he’d cracked under the pressure he put on himself. He’d cried so hard Ichiro had to pick him up and carry him like a toddler out of the restaurant. His large hand had been on Yuki’s heavily padded bottom, Yuki’s slim body shaking with hard sobs, when Yuki messed. Ichiro hadn’t moved his hand; he’d just rubbed Yuki’s diapered bottom to help soothe him. He’d kissed the top of Yuki’s head.

Yuki had cried most of the way to Ichiro’s apartment, but he’d managed to reduce his sobs to hiccups and sniffles by the time they pulled into the parking lot. In the car, his diaper had leaked after he’d peed. Ichiro had told him not to worry and kissed his tear-wet cheeks. As he’d carried Yuki inside, the diaper leaked onto Ichiro’s own clothes. He’d laid Yuki on the changing mat in front of the already-burning fire and undressed him, ignoring the romantic scene. He’d given Yuki his pacifier and said he’d be right back.

Yuki’s heart twisted as he waited for Ichiro. He was such a screw up. A royal fuck up. He was achieving the opposite of his goals, mired in the past, drowning as he struggled to move forward. Fresh tears trickled down his cheeks.

“Here, baby. Let’s get you out of that yucky diapee.” Ichiro’s deep voice cooed, love and safety in that gentle tone. He sat a shallow, square bucket filled with soapy water and a washcloth by the onikuma skin rug. The fuzzy purple diaper bag lay by Yuki’s feet, along with a folded purple rectangle, a tube of diaper cream, baby powder, and box of baby wipes. He reached for the tabs on Yuki’s saturated, fully loaded diaper.

“Ichiwo?” The pacifier slurred Yuki’s words into a toddler’s lisp. He held his dainty hands out like a baby asking for a hug.

“Yeah, baby?” Ichiro reached out to help Yuki sit up. Yuki spat out his pacifier, wrapped his arms around Ichiro’s neck, and smashed his wet lips to Ichiro’s.

Ichiro stiffened in surprise. He tried to pull back, but Yuki moved with him, keeping their lips mashed together. Pee leaked onto the mat from the diaper.

Yuki’s lungs burned; he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. His heart hammered and his pulse throbbed, making his head spin. He pressed into Ichiro like he was drowning, like his life depended on it. Raw anger consumed him, pushing him to desperation. Take me, Ichiro. I need this. I need you.

Ichiro sank into the kiss. Yuki’s slender frame was taut with fear, radiating self-loathing. Carnal terror, not desire, drove him. Fear of the past. Fear of Ichiro? Yuki’s fear reeked almost as much as his dirty diaper. Yet his lips were so soft, his skin velvet under Ichiro’s fingers. His ribcage was frozen, not breathing.

Ichiro moved his head to break the kiss, but Yuki followed again, giving no quarter. His hands stroked Yuki’s thin sides. Yuki shuddered, leaning into him with a crinkle and a squish. Ichiro’s fingers found the right spot along Yuki’s ribs and gently pressed the pressure point.

Yuki’s mouth tore from his, breaking the kiss in a ragged gasp. A string of drool still connected their lips. Yuki panted, his harsh breathing filling the room. Sweat beaded his pale skin and his face flushed red. His body trembled. Ichiro’s own breathing was labored, but not to the extent Yuki’s was.

“Yuki, what are you doing?” Green eyes widened in bewilderment; Yuki had never thrown himself at Ichiro like this before.

“Don’t you want me? I know you do. I see it.” Yuki’s eyes were glazed, pupils dilated in determination and fear. Tears glossed his eyes. He reached for Ichiro’s crotch and the evident bulge of his hard arousal. A large hand grasped his thin wrist, the hold gentle but firm.

“No, Yukihime. Not like this.” Ichiro closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose. By all the kami, he wanted her. Him. No matter how Yuki felt on the inside, Ichiro couldn’t help but view Yuki as a girl. Yuki’s voice was high and sweet, his body soft and supple, gently curved. Untouched by testosterone. The only hint of boyishness was his flat chest.

His pulse raced, hot with need and desire. His body burned, aching to possess Yuki. Make that pliant body his. But not like this, not stiff and scared. He wanted Yuki sweet and submissive, yearning with wanton desire that matched Ichiro’s own.

“It’s Valentine’s Day. We’re married.”

“No, we’re not. Our clans signed the wedding contract. We didn’t have the ceremony yet.”

“Close enough for me. Please, Ichiro-kun?” Yuki’s hand was still close to Ichiro’s groin. A dainty finger poked his crotch, rubbing the stiffness under his gray slacks.

Ichiro’s harsh gasp filled Yuki’s ears. The fingers tightened around his wrist, bones shifting. His hand went limp; he winced. Ichiro immediately released him at the accidental squeeze.

“Ichiro. I want you. Please?” Yuki’s pink lips trembled. Ichiro’s heart cracked at the soft plea.

“That’s not what your body’s telling me.” Ichiro bent down, warm breath ghosting over Yuki’s skin, causing him to shiver.

“My body’s stupid. Ignore it.”

“I won’t do anything to hurt you. I love you.”

Aishiteru. The word warmed Yuki’s insides, filling up the cold, empty and insecure corners of his heart. Gaijins threw that word around a lot. It seemed to mean little to them. To the Japanese- both human and yokai- it was rare. Like gold and diamonds. The word was not used lightly. It meant a love as deep as the sea and as enduring as the mountains.

It spurred Yuki to press forward more. He still needed to break the chains of fear shackling him to the past. He knew breaking those chains would be painful. He was ready, but he needed Ichiro’s strength.

“Then why won’t you?” The crackling fire smothered his barely audible whisper.

“You’re scared just kissing.” Muscular arms wrapped around Yuki, gathering him to Ichiro’s chest. Yuki buried his face in Ichiro’s shirt, the cashmere warm with his body heat. Ichiro’s pants were still dark with wet spots where Yuki’s diaper had leaked at dinner.

“I’m tired of being scared. I’m sick of crying all the time.” Yuki’s voice turned bitter. His hands fisted in Ichiro’s sweater. The blue fabric was soft beneath his cheek. “I won’t be a victim. Not anymore. I haven’t had s-sex since that night. I…I need to know I…can do it.”

Ichiro kissed the top of Yuki’s head, strands of hair sticking to his lips. His large hands rubbed circles on Yuki’s bare back. The calluses on his palm and fingers skimmed over the velvety skin and scratched over the thick, slippery plastic of the messy diaper. His other hand cupped the diaper’s swollen bottom, patting the messy lumps. They mushed against Yuki’s backside, but he didn’t care.

“Yuki, you’re pushing yourself before you’re ready. What if this hurts you more?”

“It won’t. I know it. I feel it. It’s like when you fall off a horse.”

“A horse that’s trampled and maimed you.”

“All the more reason to do it. I need to face my fear. I’m sick of it controlling me. I need my life back.”

“Even if you can do it, doesn’t mean you’re magically healed.”

“I know.” Yuki paused then suddenly his bony shoulders shook with giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

“A magical healing cock. Suck a dick, doctor’s orders.” Yuki burst into laughter. Ichiro snorted in amusement. Yuki laughed until his sides ached and his stomach cramped up. His bladder let loose, pee trickling out of the diaper to form a puddle on the changing mat. The laughter was cathartic, a release of pent up emotion. When the giggle fit died down, Yuki was left a leaky, boneless heap, dependent on Ichiro to hold him up.

“How about letting me change your diaper now?”

“Oh, alright.”

Ichiro lay Yuki back on the mat, careful to avoid the pee puddle. He cleaned the puddle up with a wipe. Two swift, simultaneous tugs ripped the diaper open, then Ichiro lowered the front, wrinkling his nose at the mess inside.

Yuki closed his eyes. The rubber nipple of his pacifier poked at his bottom lip, but he shook his head at the offer. He usually took a pacifier or a bottle during diaper changes, but he wanted Ichiro to see him as a big boy. Big girl. A woman. As much of a woman as he could be, anyway. It was hard to feel grown up when someone was changing his wet and messy diaper covered in juvenile hearts. Not a medical incontinence brief, but a big baby diaper for a big baby. He wanted to blush, to feel embarrassed by that, but it reassured him instead. He felt secure and loved; it was okay to be a helpless baby. Ichiro would protect him.

“Oh, yuck. You really did a number on this diaper.”

Yuki cracked open his eyes, giggling at the disgusted expression on Ichiro’s handsome face. His nose wrinkled at the smell, mouth scrunched up on one side.

“It’s not funny.”

That only made Yuki giggle more.

“Ugh. I should’ve changed you at the cafe. This diaper really took a pounding.” Ichiro used wipes for the worst of the mess. After stewing in the hot swamp of the saturated diaper, the warm open air was cool on Yuki’s privates. He shivered, a drop of pee squirting out. He never noticed. Ichiro warmed the wipes up in his hand. Yuki’s diaper area was already wet and warm from the diaper, so all he felt was the press and glide of the wipes as Ichiro cleaned him.

With one hand, Ichiro crossed Yuki’s slim legs at the ankle and lifted them into the air, raising his bottom to get the mess off. Yuki’s weight rolled onto his shoulders and upper body, pinning him helplessly in place. The squishy vinyl of the changing mat was cold on his bare back.

Once Yuki was as clean as baby wipes could get him, Ichiro switched to warm, soapy water and a washcloth. He cleaned every nook and cranny of Yuki’s butt and surgically created vagina. So clean it was like taking a bath without the tub. Ichiro put the dirty wipes and diaper into a plastic grocery bag he used for a trash bag.

The crinkly bag was like a noisy diaper to Yuki’s ears. Ichiro smiled softly, comfortable in daddy mode. He picked up a bright pink rectangle and fluffed it out. This monster diaper had purple and white hearts all over. He slid the diaper under Yuki then lowered him onto the cushiony padding. It was like laying on a thick pillow.

Despite the diaper change, Yuki fully couldn’t give into the helpless, infantile feelings that usually accompanied his changes. After a heavy dose of ‘medicine’ in his poison conditioning, he didn’t think at all; his brain switched off, turning him into a big baby. Even in his adult mind, he enjoyed the love and safety he felt as a baby.

But not right now. Frustration stuffed every fiber of his being. He’d quit thinking, just trying to enjoy the change and a clean diaper as he tried to resign himself to failure. Sex wasn’t in the cards tonight. He’d ruined that with his fear and crying. His self control crumbled when old memories crawled out from the caverns of his mind, monsters waiting to devour him. Hurt him all over again. He felt them salivating in the dark, waiting for any romantic kiss, any passionate touch, to pounce.

Yuki shuddered, cold inside as he lay naked, exposed and vulnerable on top of his open diaper. Ichiro pawed through the fuzzy purple diaper bag. Chika had messed the contents up into a chaotic jumble. He dug around for the diaper cream.

Yuki couldn’t even get past his fears long enough to seduce his fiance. He cringed in self-loathing and disgust, rolling off the diaper and onto his side, curling up into a fetal position. His thumb slipped into his mouth.

His fingers brushed a silky soft rose petal on the floor in front of the fire. A romantic setting, perfect for Valentine’s Day. Proof that Ichiro had been hoping for more physical intimacy than just changing Yuki’s diaper. Maybe he could still talk Ichiro into it…

“This thing’s a royal mess. I’m going to kill Chika…Ah, here it is.” Ichiro turned back to Yuki. “Little one, where are you going without your diapee? Do you want to see if your leg will let you crawl? Let’s get a clean diapee on you first.” Large, gentle hands guided Yuki back onto the diaper.

Yuki didn’t resist, soft and pliant. Once he was on his back, Ichiro positioning him just so on the diaper, he held up the rose petal. “Ichiro?”

“Yes, little one?” Ichiro unscrewed the cap on the diaper cream tube.

“Look at me the way men look at Chika.” He waved the petal in offering.

Ichiro didn’t take it. His face fell, stricken.

“You hoped tonight would turn out different. You want the same thing I do.” Yuki sat up, flat stomach muscles contracting. The thick diaper rustled under him.

“No.” Ichiro’s cheeks pinked, clashing with the fiery spikes of his dyed hair.

“Then what did you want to do with me tonight?” Yuki asked softly, reaching up to caress Ichiro’s cheek with the petal.

“Nothing you’re ready for.” Ichiro stiffened but he didn’t pull away.

“Let me be the judge of that. Trust me the way I trust you.” Yuki shifted on top of his open diaper. With his girly parts safely on the snowy padding, there was no way he could pee on anything. He pressed the petal to Ichiro’s lips.

His heart trembled, as did his fingers. His chest tightened, an invisible band squeezing his lungs. He held firm, staring up into concerned green eyes with the poutiest puppy face he could manage. He was too emotionally scarred by the past to have sex appeal like Chika did, but he knew how to work the cute angle.

Ichiro pulled away from Yuki’s fingers. The petal fluttered to the floor. He leaned down, the green in his eyes darkening like night settling in on a forest. His forehead touched Yuki’s.

Yuki’s mouth went dry at the hungry gaze, the raw passion Ichiro had been suppressing for Yuki’s sake. His heart beat like hummingbird wings.

“What I wanted? To show you how beautiful you are. To love you. Worship you with my mouth.”

A strangled noise escaped Yuki’s throat. The heat in those emerald eyes seared his soul, his bones. His own desire rose in answer, along with dark memories of another lustful gaze. One aching to hurt him, to rend his flesh from his bones…

Yuki shuddered, swallowed his whimper and placed both hands on Ichiro’s cheeks, drawing strength from the warm flesh. “Th-then do it. I want this. You want this. Let me have it.” His voice was determined and fierce, a march to battle rather than a lover’s plea.

The light dimmed, replaced by worry in Ichiro’s gaze. “Yuki, I don’t think-”

Yuki squished Ichiro’s cheeks in. His lips mushed together in a fish face. Any other time, Yuki would’ve giggled. Right now, he was fending off old demons, struggling to feel nothing but desire. “No. I’ll shout chocolate sushi if I need to stop, okay? I need you, Ichiro. Under all this fear, I want you. So, take me.”

The last bits of Ichiro’s iron will crumbled. He was a slave to him, this little dewy goddess. In answer, he captured Yuki’s lips in a gentle, chaste kiss. Yuki closed his eyes, leaning into the kiss It was all the invitation Ichiro needed to invade. He sucked on his bottom lip, gently biting down on the plump flesh. Yuki shuddered. From fear or passion, Ichiro couldn’t tell.

Ichiro’s tongue swept across his lips. Yuki complied, opening his mouth. Ichiro’s tongue caressed his own, hungry and gentle at the same time. Ready to pull away if Yuki broke down.

Knowing he had a limited amount of time before Yuki had to pee again, Ichiro got to work. He nibbled on Yuki’s lips while his hands kneaded the muscles of Yuki’s back. Between the kissing and massaging, Yuki melted. Once he was sure Yuki was relaxed and ready, Ichiro laid him back down on the changing mat. He was careful to keep Yuki situated on top of the diaper. Ichiro paused only long enough to shed his own peed on clothing.

Yuki floated in a warm haze, feeling like dough between Ichiro’s lips and hands. So far, the gentle touches summoned no mental demons. When the touches stopped, he whimpered in protest at the loss. He glanced up at Ichiro, breath catching in his throat at the naked glory of the young yokai lord.

Sweat dripped down the hills and valleys of sculpted muscle. His muscles didn’t bulge like the gaijin in the gym Yuki passed each morning on his way to school with Chika. Ichiro’s build was athletically lean. He’d been taught swordwork since he first picked up a wooden bokken at the age of three. Now his body was a deadly work of art; lethal poetry in motion as he slaughtered the enemies of the Nakatomi clan in battle back home in Ikai Nippon.

Yuki didn’t get to admire his body for long. Ichiro crawled on top of him. That big body made Yuki feel so small and helpless under him. Green eyes burned, hungry with desire. Ichiro’s body was taut with sexual tension, like a bow string ready to snap.

Ichiro caught Yuki’s lips in another kiss. His tongue brushed Yuki’s; this time, Yuki tentatively kissed back. His tongue brushed the underside of Ichiro’s. Their pulses sped up, hormones crackling like the flames in the fireplace. Their hearts drummed a carnal frenzy.

Ichiro kissed lower, nibbling along Yuki’s jaw. Breathing heavily, Yuki tilted his head to give him better access. Ichiro’s hands splayed above Yuki’s head, arms supporting his weight. His roving lips trailed feather light, nibbling kisses along Yuki’s jaw, down to the pulse point in his neck. He sucked lightly, not hard enough to leave a hickey. Teeth teasingly grazed his skin.

Teeth bit down hard. Blood welled, dribbling down his bare shoulder before that violent mouth sucked it away, swallowing noisily. Yuki pulled away; a cement-like fist crashed into his face. Bone crunched. Pain exploded like fireworks. Fingers squeezed his neck. “Bitch, I paid good money for this. I’ll do whatever I want.”

Yuki gasped. Fear clenched his heart. His hands fisted in the soft fur of the onikuma skin rug. His limbs stiffened, instinctively waiting for Ichiro to hurt him. In response, Ichiro immediately pulled away. ‘Stop being stupid. That was then. This is now.’ Yuki mentally chided himself.

“Don’t stop.” Yuki’s small hands fisted in Ichiro’s spikes, gel crispy under his curled fingers. He tugged on the hair, urging Ichiro back down.

Ichiro nibbled on an earlobe, sucking and licking until Yuki gradually relaxed under him. Teeth stayed carefully away from his skin. Ichiro licked at Yuki’s neck; his tongue sandpapery rough like a cat’s on the sensitive skin. He tenderly kissed a round scar from Yuki’s emergency tracheostomy, a tube put down his crushed windpipe in the ER so he could breathe.

Yuki kept his gaze focused on those flame colored spikes as Ichiro kissed and licked his collar bone. He concentrated on the sensations of his body. Every nerve was alive, thrumming with energy and aching for Ichiro’s hot touch. He didn’t think, just felt.

He struggled to stay in the here and now. The old memories of the first time he had sex- virginity lost in a brothel to a violent, sadistic john who landed Yuki in the ICU- lurked in his mind. Monsters waiting to pounce, drag him under to relive those old terrors. His eyes were wide open; he was too afraid to close them. Afraid of the monsters. Afraid of his own mind. Fear spiked adrenaline heightened his sensitivity to touch.

Ichiro’s tongue flicked over a nipple. “Ah!” Yuki moaned, electric pleasure shooting along his nerves and shutting down his mind.

“Like that, ne?” Ichiro paused, green eyes smirking up at Yuki, who could only nod in response.

Ichiro’s next lick was long and slow. The tip of his tongue circled the hard, cherry pink nub. Yuki sucked in a harsh breath, arching his back into the touch. Ichiro switched to the other nipple, sucking on it. His teeth stayed carefully away from Yuki’s skin. He only used his lips and tongue to pleasure Yuki. He lingered on the sensitive nipples, switching between them.

Yuki writhed under his big body. Fire raced through his veins, every nerve a live wire jumping at Ichiro’s touch. The open diaper under him crinkled, rustling lost to the crackling of the fire. Yuki curled his toes, brushing his leg over Ichiro’s naked skin. His damaged leg splayed limply, giving a feeble muscle twitch.

Ichiro kissed his way lower, sandpaper tongue lapping at the indents between Yuki’s ribs. Yuki’s stomach curved in, each rib on display as he breathed. Ichiro’s nibbles followed the curve of his ribcage.

Yuki’s mouth hung open as he moaned incoherently. Desire churned his thoughts to mush. His eyes stayed wide open, focused on Ichiro’s bobbing head. Occasionally, he tugged on the crispy orange spikes of hair when Ichiro slowed, teasing him.

Ichiro paid special attention to the gnarly medical scars from emergency surgery to repair spinal damage and punctured, blood filled lungs. The scars had healed wonky; the surgery had been sloppy with urgency. Ichiro kissed and licked the dark pink and white, lopsided scars.

Blood bubbled on his nose and lips as he struggled to breathe through his crushed windpipe. It bubbled inside his chest, too. Yuki wheezed, fighting to suck in thin wisps of air. His lungs burned like they were full of water, like he was drowning. His ribs, broken from a hard kick, throbbed. Rib bone punctured his lungs. His head, neck, and chest roiled with spikes of pain.

“It was a simple game, pretty one. Suck me off before the noose cuts off your breathing. You shouldn’t have bit me. Your fault I had to kick you. You suck at foreplay. And after all that money I paid…Most disappointing. Let’s see how you do during the main event. Now, stop squirming away…”

Fingers dug into his shoulder while a hand crushed his ankle like a vice. He was yanked across the tatami mats, smears of blood soaking into the woven straw. A knee slammed into his back. Bones popped and shifted. Instantly, his lower body went numb, tingling like his nerves had fallen asleep.

Yuki whimpered, lost in remembered pain and terror. A shudder ran down his body. His fingers twitched, accidentally jerking on Ichiro’s head. His weak leg spasmed, flopping about like a fish. His heart tremored; fear squeezed his lungs, making his head spin.

“Yuki?” Ichiro reacted immediately. He rolled onto his side, gathering Yuki’s small, trembling body to his chest.

“N-no. D-don’t stop.” Yuki rubbed his cheek against sweat-slick chest muscles. He tried to gyrate his hips, but only his good side rubbed against Ichiro. His thigh brushed against Ichiro’s hard, prominent erection; Ichiro groaned in pleasure. Part of Yuki wanted to reach down, take that boner and grab control, but the monsters in his mind battered at him. Fear stayed his hand. It took all his strength just to stay in the here and now with Ichiro. To fend off the devouring memories.

“You’re scared.” Ichiro panted, puffs of warm breath tickling Yuki’s ear. His long fingers kneaded Yuki’s stiff back muscles.

“I’m always scared. It’s sickening.” Frustration led to a spark of anger, just enough to let Yuki break the chain of paralyzing fear. His thigh brushed against Ichiro’s throbbing hardness, on purpose this time. Pre-cum smeared over his skin from the leaking tip.

Ichiro gasped at the contact, his long body rigid.

Yuki wrapped his arms around Ichiro’s neck, pulled himself up so they were face to face, and kissed him. Sloppy and desperate, his pink kitten tongue lapped at Ichiro’s lips. He couldn’t let tonight end like this. Couldn’t stop now. If he did, he’d be too terrified to ever try again. He tried to rub his hips against Ichiro, seduce his lover into taking him. Instead, all he did was squirm like an upset toddler.

“It’s not supposed to be like this. You’re torturing yourself.” Gentle but firm hands grabbed Yuki’s hips, holding him still. Ichiro turned his head, breaking the kiss. “I pushed you too hard; you’re having flashbacks.”

Tears of rejection and frustration stung Yuki’s eyes. Ichiro tenderly brushed them away. Yuki laid his small hands on Ichiro’s large ones. “I like it, too. Touch me. I want it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t do it.”

“I feel like a pervert, enjoying myself while you cringe. Like I’m hurting you.”

“It’s not you. Ignore it. Just me being a stupid mess.”

“It still kills the romance vibes. We should wait until you’re really ready. I thought if I coaxed you along, took it slow…but all I did was hurt you.”

“No. Stop right there.” Yuki snagged his pacifier off the floor and plopped it in Ichiro’s mouth. He pressed his palm on the pink, heart shaped button so Ichiro couldn’t spit it out. Green eyes widened in surprise as Yuki climbed on top of Ichiro, straddling his stomach. Yuki bent his head so their noses touched.

“If we wait until I feel ready, we’ll be waiting forever. I didn’t say the safe word. I can take it. Let’s make tonight special. You promised.” He tried to imitate Chika’s sultry purr she used when flirting with men. He batted his eyelashes and pushed his lower lip out in a seductive pout.

The pacifier muffled Ichiro’s laugh. Yuki removed his hand, letting Ichiro spit the pacifier out.

“Pleeease, Ichiro-kun.” Yuki batted his eyelashes and whined in imitation of a flirty Chika.

“Now that’s cheesy.” Ichiro snorted. He still desired Yuki but was afraid to keep touching him.

“It works for Chika.”

“Only on horny idiots.”

“So you’re saying you don’t think I’m pretty?” Yuki pouted again, with more exaggeration. “You’re so mean, and I’m just a little girl. I’m not even out of diapers yet!” He made his eyes wide and innocent, fluttering his long, inkly black lashes and added and extra whine in his tone.

Ichiro snorted again in amusement. Yuki bit his lips to keep from smiling in victory. He showed Ichiro he was okay enough to tease. If he was well enough to be silly, then he was well enough for sex. He just soothed Ichiro’s reservations, convinced him to carry on.

Yuki shifted on top of Ichiro, his soft, feminine mound sliding over taut stomach muscles. His butt brushed against Ichiro’s hard erection. Yuki rubbed a nipple with his fingertip. Muscles beneath him tensed as Ichiro sucked in a harsh breath.

“Yukihime-”

Yuki’s pacifier pushed between Ichiro’s lips again, silencing him. Yuki stared down into those green eyes, all traces of joking gone.

“I’m not scared of sex. Not scared of you. It’s the memories. The violation. I sold my body for sex, but I never agreed to the violence. I lost something precious that night, and it wasn’t my virginity. I’m taking it back. Help me, Ichiro.” Determination burned in his eyes; a warrior headed into battle. Yuki’s fire scorched Ichiro’s reluctance and protests; he nodded, pacifier still in his mouth.

Yuki rewarded Ichiro with a smile. His heart thrummed a mile a minute. He scooted back, grinding against Ichiro’s boner. A sense of power washed over him as he straddled the muscular body. Thin, ragged scars slashed across Ichiro’s chest, a momento from his battle with the onikuma.

He glanced at the huge, demon bear rug’s head. The muzzle was open in a fang-bearing snarl, marble eyes staring lifelessly ahead. Wicked, curved claws- long and sharp enough to disembowel a man in one swipe- lay at the end of each massive paw.

Ichiro had faced and killed that monster with only a sword. The memories of Yuki’s trauma were a mental onikuma, claws and fangs ready to destroy him. Yuki ran his fingers over Ichiro’s scars. Such power. Ichiro slayed a monster. Yuki would slay the one in his head.

Ichiro shuddered, hips bucking reflexively. Knocked off balance, Yuki fell forward. His pacifier slipped between his lips, Ichiro’s arms wrapped around him, then Ichiro rolled them over.

Yuki found himself back on his changing mat, bare bottom once more situated on his open diaper. They both knew it was only a matter of time until he peed again. After a messy diaper at dinner, he was unlikely to poop again.

Ichiro hovered over him, eyes dark with lust, muscles trembling with restrained passion. “I still think we should wait.”

The big rubber nipple muffled Yuki’s frustrated groan. He spat the pacifier out and raked his fingers down Ichiro’s chest, following the scars left by onikuma claws. “Then stop thinking.”

That was the last encouragement Ichiro needed. Spurred into action, he kissed Yuki, hot and insistent. Yuki melted in heated caresses. Ichiro stroked and teased, fanning the flames higher. Yuki struggled to stay focused on the sensations of Ichiro’s warm, moist mouth and calloused fingers as Ichiro stroked and licked his skin.

The flashbacks seemed to come when he dropped his guard. Thinking about sex opened a door for those nightmare memories to flood his mind. Not thinking about sex, getting lost and drifting in physical stimulations, also opened up his mind for the monsters to attack. So he couldn’t think, couldn’t feel. He also had to make sure Ichiro thought he was enjoying this.

Ichiro’s touch- his hands, his mouth- brought Yuki’s body to life. Every nerve danced in anticipation of where Ichiro would lick and stroke next. His breathing was ragged. He yearned for Ichiro to push more, take him higher, drive him to the edge of madness then plunge into the abyss. How could he control and fight both his past and his body? Maybe if he-

Ichiro sucked on a prominent hip bone. Lightning sizzled Yuki’s nerves, fried his brain. He moaned, head lolling to one side. His fingers curled and uncurled in the soft, thick onikuma pelt.

A warm, wet mouth clamped down on his other hip bone and sucked. Here, near the damaged nerves of his bad leg, he barely felt it. The area was numb; feeling had never returned to it. “That side’s a waste of time.” He mumbled in a passionate daze.

Green eyes, pupils dilated with arousal, pinned him to the spot. “You’re beautiful. Every part of you, and I’m going to love every inch.”

Yuki’s heart fluttered; his body tingled all over at Ichiro’s words. Ichiro made him feel loved and pretty, like it was okay to be a mess, to have parts that didn’t work right. A strangled little nise left his throat. He wasn’t garbage; he was a treasure. Ichiro looked at him like he was a diamond despite his flaws. His feelings overflowed. He opened his mouth to tell Ichiro all of this, but the emotions tangled in his throat.

Ichiro’s soft smile told Yuki he already knew. He read it in Yuki’s eyes. That smile shifted to a dark smirk; Ichiro’s head lowered to hover over Yuki’s diaper area. His vagina was hairless; the hair had been permanently removed for diaper hygiene. Ichiro’s sandpaper tongue scraped over the soft, fleshy mound. The tip of his tongue dipped into the slit, rasping over sensitive insides.

Yuki cried out, arching his back. His bad leg spasmed, inner thigh smacking into the side of Ichiro’s head. Fingers grabbed his knee, pinning the leg to the floor throughout the rest of the spasm. The rest of Yuki’s body shook with pleasure. Shooting stars from his crotch and Ichiro’s tongue exploded in his head.

“Ah!” His pleasure was an incoherent shout, his brain mush. Electricity tingled along his nerves. His heart pounded. Ichiro pushed his knees further apart, so Yuki lay with his legs splayed, spreading his girly parts with inner depths exposed like an unfurled flower.

Fingers dug into his knee caps, yanking his legs apart with brutal force. He heard his hip bones pop, but barely felt it after the blow to his spine. With the noise of bones popping out of their sockets, everything below his pelvis went from tingly novocaine numb to completely dead. Like his lower half had been chopped off. The rest of him floated in a haze of pain and terror. Yuki stared at his lower body. His splayed, noodle limp legs looked like they belonged to somebody else. A mouth lowered to his numb, girly mound. Teeth sank into smooth flesh. Blood welled. He felt no pain, but that only added to his horror.

“CHOCOLATE SUSHI!”

Tears streamed down Yuki’s cheeks. His heart pulsed in terror. Fear devoured physical pleasure. Memories swallowed him whole. Once more, he was back in that moment. Violated again. Only a small part of his conscious, curled at the back of his mind where the monsters usually slept, knew this wasn’t real. That part of him kept him tethered to reality enough to cry out.

“Yukihime!”

Yuki was only vaguely aware of tugs at his waist, thick padding engulfing him as Ichiro diapered him. Strong arms wrapped around him, gathered his limp body up against a warm wall of flesh. His cheek nestled against a curve of muscle thumping with a heartbeat.

Ichiro cradled him like an infant, stroking his hair, rubbing his back, patting his diapered bottom as he rocked him and hummed softly. Yuki shook like a leaf in a gale. He disconnected from reliving the memory; only the small thread of a safeword kept him from completely drowning. He couldn’t quite grasp reality, mired in a limbo of fear.

“Hush, little one. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Ichiro’s words were garbled noise in his ears, but the loving tone of his voice soothed his terror frayed nerves. The press of Ichiro’s embrace reassured him. With Ichiro’s arms around him, no one could get to him. Hurt him. The pillowy bulk swaddling him meant no one could touch him down there.

Yuki shivered in Ichiro’s arms, crying silently. Ichiro’s gentle ministrations never faltered. A rubber nipple slipped between his lips but he never sucked. He let the pacifier just sit in his mouth while he continued to weep. Fear, terror, adrenaline and desire all jumbled up together in a confused knot in his chest and leaked out of him in tears.

As the nightmares faded back to the corners of his mind, coherent thought returned. His quivering died down to little trembles, but silent tears still trickled from his eyes. His warrior-like determination was a mauled, bloody heap at the fangs and claws of his memories.

He’d lost. Failed again. Would this beast be with him, cursing him for all eternity? Pathetic. Disgusting. He was garbage. How could Ichiro love him? Ichiro who killed a rampaging onikuma armed only with his sword. And Yuki couldn’t even handle his past. Ichiro never had nightmares like Yuki did. No flashbacks during the day. Because he’d faced his opponent and won. Yuki lost just fighting the shadows of his opponent, the memories of what he’d been through.

“Disgusting.” He mumbled into Ichiro’s chest. “It’s not fair.”

“Little one?” Ichiro bent his head so he could better hear Yuki’s hoarse mumbles. Calloused fingers gingerly brushed Yuki’s tears away, but more continued to fall.

“Pathetic, isn’t it? It’s Valentine’s Day, and I can’t even have s-sex with my fiance.” Yuki sat up with a crinkle, wiping at his eyes. Anger burned hot on coals of self-loathing.

“That’s not important. What matters is-”

“Yes, it is! I’m a mess and I hate it! I want to be normal. I try to control the monsters in my head, but it always ends the same to matter what I do.” Yuki put his hands on Ichiro’s forearms and pulled himself up onto his knees so he could look Ichiro in the eye. His bad leg crumpled, unable to support him. He fell onto the changing mat and the onikuma skin rug. Warmth flowed over his crotch as his bladder, now full of tea and dinner drinks, let loose. The dry padding of the fresh diaper wicked the pee away, making him feel like he’d never wet at all.

Yuki screamed, a wordless, incoherent rage. The little bit of hope that had birthed his determination; the hope that lurked under his fear, anger, resentment and frustration snapped like a rubber band stretched too far. Churning emotions drowned out rational thought and erupted from him in screams. His tears dried; his fists pounded the cushiony vinyl mat in a fit of madness.

Each scream tore at Ichiro’s heart. He watched helplessly as Yuki fell apart. He wanted to get inside Yuki’s head and vanquish those memories that tore at Yuki, just like he’d slain the onikuma. Killing the demon bear had been so much simpler. All he could do now was comfort and coddle Yuki.

Ichiro stared quietly for several heart beats, letting Yuki vent and fall apart. Until Yuki turned his rage on himself.

Grief consumed Yuki; he mourned what was stolen from him, what he’d never get back. He pulled his hair, raked his hands down his face, fingernails scratching the skin. In his distraught state, the physical pain was a caress, a release of his inner pain.

Padded mittens slid over his thrashing hands. The foam was thick and stiff like a stale sponge cake; Yuki could barely bend his fingers. The outside was a heavy, slippery plastic. He could no longer make a fist. The plastic mittens bounced off the changing mat, his head, whatever he blindly hit.

Physical exertion drained his emotions as the moments stretched on. His screams died down to strangled squeaks. His throat hurt. The pacifier was pushed into his mouth; he spat it back out.

Another nipple pushed past his lips; the round rim of a bottle touched his skin. A sweet liquid dripped onto his tongue. Chocolate milk! He was absurdly fond of the gaijin treat. Operating on emotions and instinct, he latched onto the bottle and nursed. Chocolatey sweetness flowed over his tongue, soothing his raw throat.

The treat was familiar to his taste buds, but only a distant, hazy memory in his mind. The only time he drank chocolate milk was during poison conditioning, in baby mode as his body processed high doses of Ikai poison. He nursed the bottle until he was sucking air. He still continued to nurse.

Milk filled his belly, but the rest of him was empty. Drained. The monsters still lurked in his head, slumbering. Nothing changed, not even his feelings on the matter. Tonight was supposed to be a special night. Cathartic. Instead, he just ruined it.

The empty bottle pulled away, breaking his suction with a pop. Hands lifted him up by the armpits, guiding him to Ichiro’s shoulder. His chin rested on a burp cloth, then Ichiro’s large hand rubbed and patted his back. Yuki had no will left to protest. Bubbles stirred in his belly from all the patting, worked their way up his chest then erupted in a series of burps. Drool dribbled down his chin onto the cloth. Wet warmth encased his crotch as he peed again, but the diaper immediately absorbed it.

“Doesn’t that feel better, my little one?” Ichiro kissed Yuki’s cheek. His sandpaper tongue licked away dried tear tracks. He shifted Yuki so that he was cradled in Ichiro’s arms and curled up in his lap once more, cheek pressed over Ichiro’s heart.

Yuki didn’t know what to say. He just looked up at Ichiro, broken and defeated.

“Now it’s my turn to talk, and you’re going to listen.” Ichiro touched the tip of the pacifier nipple to Yuki’s pink bottom lip. Yuki obediently opened his mouth, accepting the pacifier. When Ichiro didn’t talk, Yuki started to suckle on the nipple. Ichiro kissed his forehead and wrapped a soft pink baby blanket around Yuki. Between the blanket and Ichiro’s warm chest, Yuki felt safe and war, hidden from the world.

“Tonight was a disaster.”

Yuki winced, curling into Ichiro’s chest. Ichiro rocked him and patted his padded bottom, diaper crinkling under his fingers.

“It’s no one’s fault. We each did what we believed to be best at the time.”

Then why did Ichiro sound so mad at himself? Yuki was the one who’d begged for it. He was the one who’d screwed up. He reached out of the blanket, snagging Ichiro’s hand with both mittens. He held the hand against his chest like a plushy.

“Going forward, things will be different. I won’t push you. I won’t let you push yourself.”

Push him? Ichiro had been a stubborn mule Yuki had to drag along. Yuki snorted at that. Was Ichiro feeling guilty over rose petals and a fire? Yuki was the one who’d initiated the sexual touching.

“The roses, the fire. They put ideas in your head. I don’t know what I was thinking. Hell, I wasn’t thinking. Not with my head, anyway.”

Yuki’s eyes narrowed. Ichiro was trying to take responsibility for Yuki’s own actions. Yuki wasn’t just a helpless baby- he was also a big boy. A big girl. He’d stand for his own actions. His own stupidity. One padded mitten gently tapped Ichiro on the nose.

Ichiro shook his head in surprise and smiled. “Fine. It really was no one’s fault. Better?” Yuki nodded his head; Ichiro kissed the thick padding encasing Yuki’s fingers.

“So.” Ichiro chewed his bottom lip. His eyes gazed into the fire, lost in thought. Yuki nursed his pacifier, waiting for Ichiro to continue. He tried to bend his fingers, but the foam was too thick, too stiff. After his break down, he knew Ichiro wouldn’t take the mittens off for some time. His puffy diaper kept his legs spread apart; the mittens felt like miniature versions of his diaper. The thick padding between his legs and covering his hands made him feel helpless. Infantile. The feeling comforted him; a sanctuary from the world.

Ichiro’s free hand raked through orange spikes, handsome face scrunched in frustration. “I can’t think of any diplomatic way to phrase this, so I’ll just say it.” Green eyes focused on Yuki, who recoiled under the frank gaze as if he’d been slapped.

“Yukihime. In your flashbacks, do you see who hurt you? His face? His name?” Ichiro’s voice was gentle, a surgeon probing.

Yuki’s heart stopped. Everyone knew the answers- everyone but him. He remembered in vivid detail every violation of that night. But the monster behind the actions, behind the pain, was a blank mask. His mind blocked it out. No one would tell him- not even Ichiro and Chika. Like they were afraid him knowing would break his fragile psyche.

Yuki’s silence spoke for itself.

Ichiro cuddled Yuki close, squishing him to his chest as if he’d protect him from the world. “Nothing at all? His eyes? Mouth? Anything?”

Yuki shook his head, burrowing his face in Ichiro’s chest and covering his head with his mittens.

“Little one.” Ichiro pulled his mittens away and pressed soft kisses to his temple. “You’re not as healed as you think you are. You’ve had more flashbacks tonight than you’ve had in a long time. Yet you still didn’t see his face. I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need more time. You’re just not ready.”

There it was; the truth Yuki had fought so hard to deny. Just like insisting he was a boy when all he saw in the mirror was a baby girl. Each truth was a dagger thrust to his heart. He whimpered behind the pacifier. A shudder ran down his slim body, prompting a spurt of pee into his diaper.

“I’m here for you, Yukihime. My pretty little one. We’ll take our time. Go slow. Just be my baby. Let me take care of you. We’ll make it alright.” Ichiro’s voice was a soothing balm.

Life would never be alright. Yuki would carry those wounds in his heart, his psyche, for eternity. No matter how much he wanted to heal, to move forward, it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t force it- that much he’d learned tonight. All he could do was take comfort in Ichiro. In his diapers, in babyhood. Maybe that would be enough.

The things Yuki had lost- his confidence, his trust in himself- were clearly not coming back son. Another ugly truth he didn’t want to face. He had no regrets about selling his virginity to save his sister. What he regretted, what he blamed himself for, was his bad judgement regarding the john. He never should’ve agreed to that man. Should’ve picked up on the bad vibes. Should’ve known what was going to happen, sense it even though he wasn’t clairvoyant.

Yuki’s judgement of men hadn’t improved- he’d just been lucky with Ichiro. Ichiro was the one who’d sought him out. Given the Nakatomi’s high rank, Yuki had gone out of his way to avoid the yokai lord. Ichiro had been persistent until he wore Yuki down. After a few dates, he’d won Yuki over.

Yuki didn’t have many prospects. Before Ichiro, the Soga clan elders had pressured his father to consent to an arranged marriage for Yuki with a distant cousin. A boy Yuki’s age with cold, hard eyes that regarded Yuki as if he was something smelly the boy had stepped in. Marry him, or marry gentle, attentive Ichiro? No contest there.

But how did Yuki feel about Ichiro? The Soga clan saw a connection to the Nakatomi clan as a chance to restore their former glory. The Nakatomi were less than thrilled, caving into the whim of a bullheaded heir. Even now, some of the elders were probably planning to poison Yuki after the wedding, when he officially joined the Nakatomi house. Ichiro’s own Fae mother had died young. Yuki wondered if she’d been poisoned. Being a gaijin, she wouldn’t have had an immunity to Ikai poisons. That would explain Ichiro’s insistence on his poison conditioning.

Yuki had fallen in love with Ichiro. That was a truth he couldn’t deny. Prince or pauper, he loved Ichiro. Yuki hadn’t been looking for love, hadn’t wanted it. Hell, he’d tried to avoid it. Maybe Chika was right- love was just something that happened. Sheer dumb luck. Being in Ichiro’s arms, being his baby, felt fright. So maybe Ichiro was right, too. Maybe he just needed more time to heal. Something that would just happen on its own. Or not. He couldn’t control that any more than he could control falling in love.

Yuki’s tongue pushed the rubber nipple out of his mouth. “Ichiro?” He asked softly.

“Yes, little one?”

“I love you. From the bottom of my heart.”

“I love you, too. From the bottom of my heart.” Ichiro bent down to kiss Yuki’s forehead then replaced the pacifier back in Yuki’s mouth. Yuki sucked on the nipple, snuggling into Ichiro. A large hand patted his diapered bottom, plastic rustling.

Yuki wondered if he’d ever outgrow being a baby. Whatever happened, he’d face it with Ichiro at his side. With a love as deep as the sea, as enduring as the mountains.

Re: Kokoro No Sokokara Aishiteru

Going to add a note here to stop any complaints (yeah right, who am I kidding?): As allowed by the contest rules the author requested an exception to the board’s rules and it was granted, so please don’t waste your time or the staff’s reporting it for violating the rules.

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Re: Kokoro No Sokokara Aishiteru

That was… good!

I’m shocked, actually. Stories with Japanese characters usually make me cringe, with the authors writing based on the most superficial knowledge of Japan. They just want to make things ‘like one of my Japanese anime’. (No offense to anyone who HAS written one of those… but it’s true! :))

Even with some… questionable?.. Japanese languages insertions, (baka gaijin,) I thought this was a very Japanese-y story that justified the characters. You’re obviously writing with knowledge of Japanese mythology and history, and I really enjoyed all the tidbits about the yokai world, and thought the backstory and premise were doled out tastefuly. The style of romance is Japanese-y — arranged marriage, ‘fighting to like it’, and maguro sex are all common themes — and it all built it to a sweet thematic link between ‘being a baby’ and getting over past trauma.

The writing here is great… adding stuff like ‘-chan’ and ‘ne?’ gives me acid reflux, but that may be just me. You sometimes put in redundant sensory details (“The foamy green liquid was the perfect temperature. Bitter green matcha chased by sweet, creamy vanilla”) which are good for smoky sex scenes, but not-so-much for dialgoue scenes. ONE of those sentences will do. Avoid double-dipping!

While I was reading, I found myself asking, what if Hime never gets better? Is Ichiro supposed to stay a stoic provider forever? The story itself suggests Ichiro is willing to wait, and how sweet, but I wonder if a relationship can actually last on that foundation. The dilemma reminds me of Norwegian Wood.

Re: Kokoro No Sokokara Aishiteru

…adding stuff like ‘-chan’ and ‘ne?’ gives me acid reflux, but that may be just me.

I only saw a few places where the usage of those would have been unusual for a native speaker, but if it gives you acid reflux you should really see a doctor about that :wink:

Re: Kokoro No Sokokara Aishiteru

This story was so pretty. I really enjoy deep love, abdl stories. The internal battle she was dealing with was protrayed so clearly in this story.

Thank you for posting!!! :slight_smile: