Some Alone Time, Part 9 (Patreon)

“Todd if you drop those boxes, we're cooking YOU for dinner!” 

It was his wife's threat that really stirred the big shepherd into motion. Like a shot, he was off the couch and scrambling down the hallway for the sanctity of his bedroom, whipping the door closed just in time to hear his son struggling with the knob on the front door. Fortunately for the older dog, Todd couldn't quite manage to finesse the doorknob while holding two hot pizza boxes.

“Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!” He swore to himself, ears back, seeing the mess that he had left in the bedroom in his haste to enjoy his alone time. There were diapers strewn across the bed, his pacifier was out, and the drum case he kept it all in was flipped upside down across the room. 

“What are you, a hurricane?” The big dog growled in frustration, feeling his heavy, wet diaper squish between his legs as he crouched down and began frantically sweeping his oversized baby gear off of the bed. Diapers, wipes, baby powder, his pacifier, all of which he gathered up and hustled into the drum case before closing up the latches. 

“Dad! Dinner's here!” 

The voice of his son from the kitchen sent a shiver up the dog's spine. Either one of them opening the bedroom door would be greeted by a big, diapered butt pointed directly back at them, one that was  wet all the way up the seat, and attached to the hips of their dad, or husband. The thought made him cringe so hard that he nearly cracked a rib, and he swore at himself through clenched teeth again, language that would surely catch him a glare from his wife in polite company.

“DAAAAD!” 

His voice was more insistent this time. Todd was always impatient when it came to dinner, especially on pizza nights. The dog grunted with effort as he crouched way down once more to fit the drum case back into its usual place underneath the king-size bed he shared with his wife. There was mumbling going on that he couldn't quite place, and he felt compelled to answer, for fear of hearing footsteps coming down the hallway to investigate his silence.

“I'll... I'll be right out!”

The sound of his voice as he searched out his earlier discarded clothes made him wince almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He sounded strained and frantic, which was more likely than silence to arouse suspicion in his family. 

“Are you sure, honey?” His wife spoke up for the first time, and she sounded closer than the kitchen. Then he heard it; the sounds of her shoes on the hallway rug, heading his way. “Is everything okay back there?” 

SHIT.