Chapter 3:

"I'm Daddy, love, and she's Mommy, my wife. That's what you have to call us."

Aaron gawked at Daddy, every inch of him straining to swallow down the burning acid that rose to the top of his throat. Even as a child, he'd never found enough sentiment in him to call his own parents mommy or daddy. Surely not these psychos then.

Squirming furiously in Daddy's hold, Aaron said, "Please, just tell me what you want from me," then settled still and solid as he waited anxiously for an answer.

"But I told you." Daddy bounced his baby in his arms. "We want your happiness. You don't have to do anything, just be our baby."

Just leave your life behind and act like a baby for some psychos. Aaron snorted internally. Easy enough.

"But I-I can't be a baby. I'm big, I'm a teenager. Maybe you should find a real—"

Daddy let out a humorless chuckle. "No, love. You aren't big. You're a baby," he said, his gentle voice laced with a sharp edge, one that held a covert threat Aaron easily picked upon. "Our baby. We don't want a real one, or any other one, just you. Understand?"

Aaron failed beneath the harsh stare, lashes fanning over his cheekbones as he looked away in fear. He was aware of how helpless he was at that moment; he didn't have the power to fight and couldn't reach for anything sharp to hurt the captor. Even if he did find a weapon, he wouldn't use it right away. The key was patience and sensible planning. Aaron just hoped he could control his composure and not ruin everything with his intense reflexes.

Daddy noticed the fear settled deep within his baby's eyes. He almost hated himself for being the reason those beautiful eyes shed innocent tears, for causing that frail heart to tremble. Aaron was too precious to be mistreated, but Daddy knew that now that he was with him, no one could ever hurt him again. He'd take care of him till last breath. That was what his baby deserved: protection and endless love.

His hand subconsciously treaded to his baby's cheek, thumb gently caressing the soft skin. Aaron tried to turn away, but Daddy cupped his chin and forced his head towards him. "Daddy loves you so much, baby. Don't make it hard on yourself and behave."

The captor's voice changed a little—something in the core. No more sharpness, nothing prickly and hard. It turned soft and smooth, free of frighteningly demanding edges.

The way Daddy's attitude altered just by seconds and minutes terrified Aaron the most so far; sent a tremor down his spine, torturously slow. Aaron's eyes accidentally fell upon the other boy, who was sitting with Mommy on a white armchair, face snuggled into her side.

Now that Aaron noticed the first piece of furniture, he bothered to give the place a proper survey. There were two cribs pushed against the pale blue wall, each dark wooden and furnished with a white mattress and blankets. A rocking chair was set beside the two. On one side of the room was a square window, beige curtains hanging loose and veiling across the glass behind. Beside it, to Aaron's dismay, was a big changing table.

Changing table.

His breath hitched as he probed it intently. The table reminded him of the fact that he was wearing a pull-up. He was a teenager, but was wearing a pull-up, and to top it off, he was in the arms of a psychotic man who requested to be called Daddy.

This was a prank: a sick prank. It had to be. Perhaps even imagination—anything but reality. Aaron treaded a trembling hand to the zipper and pulled it down, gasping inaudibly when he saw the pull-up with his bare eyes. He really was wearing one. It wasn't imagination.

Daddy sensed Aaron's chest heaving a little more rapidly against him. He knew from the fearful and disgusted stare, from the metallic eyes that gaped disbelievingly, that his baby was approaching his first breakdown. It's time, Daddy thought.

His baby had been surprisingly calm and composed throughout the situation—or at least calmer than he imagined he'd be—and he knew this would come at one point: when he'd finally burst out. Daddy inhaled and mentally prepared himself for it. As much as he wanted Aaron to deflate the shock he'd been silently gathering, he didn't like watching it happen. It tore his heart apart to see his own little baby so upset.

Aaron's composure was draining progressively. Everything happened so quickly it caught him like a bullet in the chest, but he had managed to keep himself gathered. And now, it felt as though the bizarre situation was setting in properly. He wasn't kidnapped for simple blackmailing; they didn't want money from his father. He, as a person, was the interest of his kidnappers. Not only that, but they also wanted him to be a baby for their pleasure.

Something popped and cracked inside Aaron. Just a prod, the slightest touch, and he'd burst out everything he'd been holding in. He fought to keep his cool which shouldn't be hard considering he'd mastered this art throughout his life. But it was something else to be thrown in his (theoretical) worst-case scenario nightmare, to have someone grip the edge of his comfort zone, yank it a lot further than it could go then step in.

What kind of psychos were these people?

"This... this is bullshit," Aaron whispered as he hung onto the last bit of composure left. Every muscle in him contracted with the strain. His hand found the material around his waist for relief, fingers clenching it hard as if subconsciously trying to relieve himself from the difficulty of holding back a breakdown. "I don't want that thing, I don't want any of this."

"Baby, that's a bad word. And don't panic about the changing table," Daddy said, smiling like the entire situation was nice and peachy. "It's not gonna bite. Look."

Aaron made a disgusted face even as he wallowed in the terror. Daddy moved with him to the table and placed him down, but Aaron thrashed as much as the captor's strong grip could let him, mumbling leave me alone!

"Here's where we put lotion for you," Daddy explained. "Or where I change your pull-up if you use it—"

Aaron let out a repressed cry at the mere idea. "No." Then, battling himself more than anything, he squeezed his eyes shut. Don't do this to me, he thought. Just one second of peace—that was all he wanted. "No no no. Don't touch me!"

Daddy frowned. His baby really liked stressing himself for nothing. Hand clutching an arm and the other a thin leg, he forcefully made Aaron lie down flat on his back. "Calm down," Daddy mumbled. "You don't have to use the pull-up if you don't want to, baby. We have the cutest little bathroom for you and Leo! You can use your toilet."

Aaron clenched his jaw, trying to pull his arm out of the captor's hold. He snapped his eyes open when he heard the rattle of the restraints. Beside him, Daddy messed with them. As if contemplating using them. The alarms in Aaron's head blew up, heart-rate rocketing from seventies to hundreds. "Wh-Why—"

"Shh, baby. I said you don't have to worry. You're just moving too much and I want to clip your nails. You woke up before we could do that," Daddy said, then turned to Mommy and motioned at the door. "Take Leo out and get Lou."

"Lou?" Aaron parroted cluelessly, bones chilling at a horrible passing thought. There couldn't possibly be a third captor. Two and his heart couldn't handle. A terrible pressure filled his chest and the air was knocked out of his lungs, yet he willed his limbs to fight against the grip with every bit of his drained energy.

"Yes, love. Lou's my younger brother, so he's your uncle."

There really was a third kidnapper. This had to be a joke.

Mommy wasn't physically capable of carrying Leo, so she just caught his hand and urged him out. Humming as he patiently awaited his brother, Daddy easily kept Aaron in place with a strong hand on his stomach.

When Lou finally came, he stood at the threshold for a split-second—almost stunned—then hastened inside, smiling softly to himself once he spotted his baby nephew.

The next thing Aaron knew, two men were trying to unzip his onesie and the already-blaring alarms in his head exploded now. "Don't!" He tried kicking, tried thrashing but nothing—so little force exerted compared to these two strong assholes. Desperate, he just stilled, head hitting the table, shoulders heaving with the strain. He let out a helpless whimper. "Please don't take it off, please. I'm begging you."

Daddy ignored everything Aaron said and finished up removing the onesie, then hung it over the armchair and grabbed the nail-trimmer. Lou gave Daddy a worried look then glanced back at Aaron.

"Woah, woah wait," Lou said, heart aching at how fearful Aaron seemed. He wanted to offer some form of comfort, to ease his baby's fright, but all he could do was gather his trembling hand in his own. It's so small, he realized as he stared at it. He smiled to himself like a fool and pulled it closer to his mouth, lips pressing gently against Aaron's knuckles. "This isn't a punishment, yeah? We're not gonna hurt you. He's just gonna clip your toenails. We won't touch you... the way you're thinking."

Aaron quickly pulled his hand away, disgusted and disturbed even through the fear of the situation. He wiggled and squirmed and the continuous movement made it hard for Daddy to trim his nails even as he held his ankle stable. Daddy nodded towards the restraints—a gesture that had Lou pinning Aaron down by his arms. Daddy strapped his baby, keeping him still as he trimmed his toenails.

Aaron lifted his head just enough to glance at Daddy, and he almost threw up. The disgusting dumbass was smiling as he trimmed his nails. Smiling. Because life had never been better.

In a goddamn pull-up, scar-riddled skin exposed in front of a bunch of psychos that were convinced he was their baby, Aaron felt humiliated. Every way possible. A bright red tinge splattered his cheeks at the vulnerability in this—the exposure—but he was distracted when he felt a hand comb through his hair, foreign fingers ever so gently twirling it around. Instinctively, he looked up at the owner and found Lou hunched above him.

The third captor looked younger than the other two; he had to be twenty-two at most, Aaron assumed. Amber eyes and perfectly combed brown hair, tan skin that glowed bronze—his face vaguely seemed hispanic. Aaron wondered why they wasted time on appearance. He wasn't an idiot and wouldn't trust them just because they didn't look like demons.

Aaron didn't realize he'd been distracted until he felt wet warmth against his stomach. He tensed, eyes hastily averting down to assess the threat, only to realize that Daddy had finished up trimming and was now leaning forwards, lips pressed lovingly right above his belly button. It was a platonic, paternal kind of kiss, but Aaron saw it otherwise. He grimaced, hand instinctively reaching down to push Daddy's head away as much as the restraints could let him. 

"No, love. You don't hit Daddy," Daddy reprimanded, cocking a brown eyebrow. His flat, stern voice betrayed the humorous effect of the raised brow, and Aaron quickly realized the matter was rather serious. He regretted pushing him off, but it was too late. Stupid reflexes. "You have to learn to behave, and punishment is the best way."

Aaron was suddenly glad he was wearing a pull-up, because he was sure he used it.

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sorry for the wait, I had finals. Thanks for reading!