FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

#

Chapter 1

Blake sat on the couch, playing Mortal Kombat. He wished that he could be playing it up in his room, but his parents made him keep his gaming system in the living room so that his little brother, Braeden could play too. He kept insisting that Braeden was too young to play Mortal Kombat, but his parents argued that he was more than mature enough. Blake secretly suspected it was because Braeden was an early bloomer. Despite being two years younger than Blake, Braeden stood a good four inches over Blake, who was embarrassingly short for his age, barely above four and a half feet.

“I don't understand why I've got to do it again, mom!” Braeden yelled from the other room. “I mow every Saturday and Blake just sits on the couch and plays video games. Make him mow!”

“You know why I can't do that.” His mom said. She dropped to a whisper, but Blake could have sworn she said he was too little. He hated that excuse. He was very rarely too little for things, but it always stung when it happened. It was not like he wanted to mow the lawn, but he still wished he had not overheard it.

Braeden stormed into the living room and glared at Blake as if it was all his fault that Braeden had to mow. Blake did plenty around the house, in his own opinion.

“Give me the controller. I want to play until dad gets home with gas for the mower.”

“I'm playing.”

“C'mon, Blake. Just for ten minutes!”

“No!” Braeden stomped over and yanked it away from him. On the screen, Shao Kahn slammed his hammer into Scorpion. “Mom!”

“Oh, yeah. Call mom right away.” Braeden mocked.

“What on earth is going on in here?”

“Braeden took my controller and I was playing a game!” Blake whined. Their mom sighed a familiar sigh. The boys were always fighting.

“Blake, let Braeden play for ten minutes until he has to mow.”

“But mom!”

“You can take the trash out while he plays.” She said.

“Ugh!” Blake exclaimed. “Why do I have to do everything?”

“Your brother is mowing the whole lawn. You can handle the kitchen trash, I think.” Blake stomped off into the kitchen, grumbling darkly under his breath. “Those better not be swear words, mister! You're not too old to get your mouth washed out with soap!”

For whatever reason, the kitchen trash seemed extra heavy that day and Blake dragged it out the back door and around the house to the trash can. He knew he was not supposed to, but what was the worst that would happen? When the trash bag hit a rock and tore open, he knew just what the worst was; a two minute job had just become a twenty minute job as he had to pick up each and every piece of garbage that fell out, as well as pause every few seconds to tug his shorts back up over his boxer briefs. By the time he went back inside, he was in a very sour mood.

Rather than relax, however, his mom had a few other tasks for him while Braeden was out mowing the lawn. He had to tidy up the downstairs bathroom, empty the dishwasher, and put his laundry away. By the time that he was done, he was in the worst mood he could possibly be in and collapsed on the couch. Braeden collapsed next to him, having mowed and cleaned the gutters, another chore that Blake was too short for.

“Oh, good. You’re both right here.” Their mom said. She sat down in the armchair across from them and smiled as their dad joined the family.

“We have something we want to talk to you two about. Braeden, I think you know what it is.” Braeden sat up a bit, seeming to have regained some of his energy.

“This is a little strange, but I want you both to listen to us before you chime in.” She looked at her older son. “Understand, Blake?”

“Yeah.” He said, his slouched posture only serving to make the difference in size between him and Braeden more noticeable.

“Let’s just come out and say it.” Their dad said, smacking his knees. “This morning, Braeden hit his head on the ceiling in his room. Again.” Blake could not help but smirk. Served the giant doofus right. His bedroom had a sloped ceiling and he seemed to be hitting his head every week.

“I can tell you’re sympathetic, Blake.” His mom said, giving him a warning look. “So, I’m sure you’ll understand what we’re going to propose.”

“I know Braeden’s onboard, so we were thinking you two would swap bedrooms.” Blake sat up.

“What?”

“Hear us out, Blake.” His mom said gently. “Your room doesn’t have that strange sloped ceiling that Braeden’s has. Now that he’s growing so fast, it’s not good for him to keep hitting his head.”

“So we’re just going to swap? That sounds like a lot of work.”

“Not as much as you’d think.” His dad said with an eager chuckle. “Glad you brought that up though. We came up with a pretty clever solution. We’ll leave the furniture where it is and just swap the boys.”

“But Braeden’s room is so… little kiddish.”

“I know, we’ve been meaning to remodel it, but we still don’t have the money for it.” His mom said. “We know that you’ll be mature and won’t mind.”

“But we still have to move our clothes! I just put a huge basket of my laundry in my room!” Blake groaned. His parents exchanged a somewhat cautious look.

“That’s the other kinda strange idea, Blake.” HIs dad said.

“Since your clothes are a little big on you and Braeden’s are a little snug on him, we thought” his mom paused as Blake gasped. No way! “We’d leave the clothes where they are and you two would just wear what’s in your new room.”

“Works for me.” Braeden said with a shrug.

“Not for me!” Blake exclaimed. “He gets to wear my clothes, but I have to wear little kid clothes?”

“I do not have little kid clothes!” Braeden indignantly punched Blake in the arm.

“Stop that, Braeden.” His dad said in warning. “Look, Blake. We're all on board except you. Let's try it for a few days and see. What's the worst that can happen?”

“So you all discussed this without me?”

“We knew you’d throw a tantrum, Blake, so we figured we’d make the decision and then let you work it out.” His dad explained.

“It’s not fair.”

“I knew he’d react like this.” Braeden said.

“We all did.” His mom said. “Blake, just give it a try. I promise that when we have the money, we’ll remodel your room first, okay?”

Blake looked around whatever he refused to accept as his new bedroom. It had not changed since Braeden was five or so. There were Tonka trucks and LEGOs in one corner and his bed, which his goody two shoes brother made every day, still had colorful train sheets and a matching comforter on it, from when Braeden had been obsessed with them in kindergarten. There was not even a TV in here! Blake knew in his heart that Braeden had just hit his head on the ceiling on purpose to get them to swap.

"Here, I'll show you." Braeden came into the room suddenly, followed by his dad. He immediately lay down on the bed, his feet hanging off the end.

"See, Blake?" His dad pointed to Braeden's feet. "Another reason why this switcheroo's a good idea." Blake walked over to the bed. Braeden, sensing why he was doing it, got off so Blake could take his place. "That fits much better." His dad said as Braeden nodded his agreement. “Let’s leave Blake alone for a bit to get used to his new room.” Blake frowned.

“Can’t I grab just my favorite shirt or something?”

“You’ll find a new favorite shirt.”

“My Pokémon shirt with the first three generations of starters and Pikachu on it is all yours.” Braeden called over his shoulder as he and his dad left Blake to his new room.

Blake looked around the room again, but he could not bring himself to spend even one minute more in it, so he stomped out and back downstairs, determined to make his mom, or whoever would listen, see his side of things. He soon discovered that his mom would hear nothing about it.

“It's been decided, Blake.” She said. “You need to learn to accept our decisions and obey the rules, mister.”

“But mom!” He whined.

“Hush. Your brother is bigger than you, whether you like or not. This just makes sense. It's just a room!” Blake's jaw dropped. It was more than just a room! They were actually expecting him to wear his little brother's clothes!

“Mom! I wear boxer briefs, not” he struggled to find a way to describe them without earning more of his mom’s wrath. “Not these.” He finally settled on.

“Well, you wear them now. Underwear’s underwear.”

“But they’re so little kiddish!”

“You’re still you, regardless of your underwear. Besides, it’ll be hidden. No one will know you have Pikachu on your butt.” He grumbled.

“It’s basically brand new, Blake. The underwear you’re so proud of is practically threadbare. Who’s to say I wouldn’t have bought you that style anyway? Heaven knows I’d never get you to go to the store to go clothes shopping with me.”

“But mom!”

“But nothing. Go take a shower. You smell like a boy.” It was an old joke between them, but he fought to hide a smell at the line. He trodded off to the bathroom, quietly resolving to put his boxer briefs back on. He was not going to wear the underoos that Braeden wore, or had worn.

As usual, Blake intended to just rinse off and give his hair a quick shampoo, but as he was reaching to turn off the water, he heard the door open and a soft knock.

“Blake, I'm just grabbing your dirty clothes so I can do a load of laundry.” His mom called.

“Ok.” He said, not even thinking of it. As he dried off, however, he realized that she had just taken his only pair of boxer briefs, leaving him with “Damn it.” He muttered, glaring at his reflection in the somewhat fogged mirror. “Stupid.”

Leaving the bathroom, he headed toward his old room out of habit, but realized his mistake when Braeden emerged.

“It’s taking some getting used to, huh?” He said with a smile, reaching out and tousling Blake’s wet hair. Blake batted his wrist away, regretting a moment later as Braeden snatched his towel.

“Give it back!”

“Nope.” Braeden said, enjoying how vulnerable his brother looked naked with his hands firmly over his crotch. Blake swore under his breath as he hurried toward the bedroom that had formerly been Braeden’s, slamming the door behind him. Braeden felt daring and decided to show Blake one feature of his new room that he might not have recognized; the door had no lock. “Peekaboo!” Braeden teased, poking his head in. Blake yelped and covered his crotch again.

“Get out!”

“I will, I will.” Braeden closed the door and walked off to the bathroom to take his own shower.

Blake yanked his new underwear drawer roughly open and groaned. Was every single pair brightly colored and festooned with cartoon characters? He dug around, hoping to find just one solid colored pair of briefs, but had no luck whatsoever. Why had he allowed his mom to take his clothes? With a groan, he settled on a red and blue pair of briefs with a black spider on the crotch. Yeah, they were obviously Spider-Man, but they were a lot better than Minions or Power Rangers!

Stepping into them, he looked at himself in the mirror. He had shed underoos when he was seven, and it felt strange to be back in them. Abruptly uncomfortable, he quickly looked away, turning from the mirror and crossing to the dresser to find something to wear over his underwear.

“Hey, I thought you wore” Blake's voice failed him for a second. He did not like the idea of admitting he had willingly put on Spider-Man underoos. “Normal briefs or something.”

“Nope. I wear underoos. Or, I did I guess? This whole swap thing's got me all confused. I guess you wear underoos now, hmm?” Blake looked away. “They were a little snug on me, so I bet they fit you perfectly.” Braeden said with a kind smile. Blake grumbled, but did not answer.

After dinner, Blake hoped to get to play some more Mortal Kombat, but his family decided to have a movie night.

“You're welcome to join us, Blake. We're going to make popcorn.” His mom said. “The more the merrier!”

“I don't want to watch a movie.” He tried to keep a whine out of his voice. She sighed.

“If you don't want to join us, you can just go to bed.”

“But” he stopped. Yes, he would just go to bed. If Braeden was down here, that meant.. His mom noticed his sly smile, but chose not to ask as he turned and walked up the stairs without another word.

Without even realizing it, Blake crept down the hall toward the closed door that was all that kept him from reclaiming his bedroom. Before his family even knew what had happened, he would be locked away inside his room, back in his clothes. Once they saw reason, he would emerge triumphant. It was foolproof!

“Damn it.” He muttered as the knob failed to turn in his hand. Braeden had locked it! What reason would he possibly have for doing that? “Fuck!” Blake muttered, kicking the door. He stopped, frozen in place. That had been loud. Had anyone heard? He strained to listen, but all he heard was the beginning of some family movie downstairs. He was in the clear. He just needed to figure out a way to unlock the door. How?

He begrudgingly walked to his new room and searched for a paperclip. It worked in the movies, so why not in real life? Unable to find one, he tried to think of what else he could try. As he thought, he went back to the door and tried the knob again, jiggling it to see if perhaps it was just stuck. It took him quite a few tries before he finally accepted the truth: Braeden had locked it to make sure he could not do what he had planned. Maybe that was why no one had even come up to check on him. They knew what he was doing and were just waiting for him to fail.

“Fuck!” He said, a bit more loudly. He could feel the frustration beginning to overwhelm him, tears welling up in his eyes. Blake did not like anyone to know it, but he cried a lot, basically whenever things did not go his way. He just hid it as best as he could. He scrubbed at his eyes and irritably kicked the door. “Fuck!”

“Excuse me?” He had been so focused on the door and his own frustration that he had completely missed his mom coming up the stairs. “What did you just say?” He gulped, a million lies springing to mind, but he knew none of them would work.

“Sorry.” He said. “It slipped out.”

“I don’t care if it slipped out. You do not say that word!”

“Sorry.” He repeated, but his mom grabbed his wrist.

“This is the second time today I’ve heard you swear, mister. Normally, I’d give you three strikes, but you’ve been a brat all day. Come downstairs.” He complied, terrified of what he and Braeden still secretly called mom’s dragon face.

They came downstairs, but no one was in the living room. Both Braeden and his dad were in the kitchen, making snacks. Blake followed his mom into the living room, where she sat down in the armchair by the window. She patted her lap, but Blake stood there for a moment in shock.

“C'mon. You know the drill.”

“Mom, you haven't spanked me in like five years.” It had probably been between two or three years, but he hoped a bit of exaggeration might just deter her.

“Well, I'm bringing it back since it's the only thing that ever worked.”

“But”

“No more arguing. Drop your jeans and lie down across my lap. Unless you want a bare bottom spanking?”

“No.” He undid his fly and lowered his pants, wincing as he set eyes on his red and blue briefs once again. He had almost, almost forgotten about them.

“I'd say hurry before your dad and brother get in here, but they'll probably hear you.” She said. He climbed into her lap, looking down at the carpet. “Now, do you know why I'm spanking you?”

“Because I swore”

“And?”

“And because I kicked the door”

“Yes,” she fought to keep a smile from blooming on her face. “What else?” He did not say anything. He had a feeling that he knew what she wanted him to say, but actually saying it was asking too much. Even the thought of it sent a few frustrated tears cascading to the carpet. Why was any of this happening? “Because you were trying to get into Braeden’s room.”

“It’s my” he felt a sharp smack on his cotton clad bottom and he yelped.

“You two traded. You agreed to it.”

“Did not!” He gasped as he felt her finger slip under the waistband of his briefs and down they came.

“I guess you want a bare bottom spanking.” She smacked his bottom again, the loud noise drawing the attention of the rest of the family. “I caught Blake trying to get into your room, Braeden, and he said quite a few swear words.”

“Should I grab a bar of soap?” Blake looked up through his tear-filled eyes at his dad.

“What do you think, Blake? Do you need a bar of soap to wash out your mouth?”

“No.” He blubbered.

“Well, how about you go park your nose in the time out corner?” He got up off of her lap. “No, don't pull your pants and undies up, mister. Don't you remember how this works?” Blake quickly shuffled over, hands over his crotch as he stood in the corner, painfully aware of everyone's eyes on him as he stood in the time out corner like a child. “I'll let you know when five minutes is up.” His mom said.

Blake stood there, staring into the corner as his family resumed their movie, grateful that there was something to distract them from his humiliating position. Judging from the movie, he remained in the corner for closer to fifteen minutes before his mom finally paused it and allowed him to put his clothes back in order.

“What do you have to say, Blake?”

“I’m sorry for swearing and trying to get” he sighed. “Trying to get into Braeden’s room.”

“Apology accepted.” His mom said with Braeden softly echoing it with a triumphant smirk. “I think we might just need to bring spankings and timeouts back for you, Blake. You seem to respond to them better than anything else.” She noticed his face and added. “Prove me wrong. Keep acting like a little boy and you’ll get little boy punishments.”

“Head back upstairs, Blake. I want you to stay in your room for the rest of the night.” His dad said. Blake nodded. Was he being sent to bed? No, his dad did not say he had to go to bed, after all!

Alone in the room he refused to accept as his own, Blake gingerly lowered his jeans and briefs to check his bottom. It looked a little red, but mom had really only spanked him a couple times. He did not want it to happen again though. That much was for sure.

Unsure of what else to do, Blake flopped down on the top of the still made bed and tried to sleep, still in his jeans and t-shirt. It used to be that he slept in just his boxer briefs, but there was no way in hell he was going to strip down to the underwear he had on now! He sighed. He used to stay up late playing video games, but there was nothing fun to do in Braeden's room, so what was the point? Frustrated tears filled his eyes once again as he realized that he was literally so bored that sleep seemed like a good idea. Maybe in the morning, things would be back to normal.

“Did you know Blake slept in his jeans and shirt last night?” Braeden said conversationally over breakfast.

“So?” Blake muttered into his cereal.

“Why?” His mom asked. “I know for a fact you have pajamas in your dresser.”

“Braeden’s dresser.”

“It isn’t anymore. Everything you’re wearing right now is from that dresser, so it’s definitely yours.” She retorted. “Answer the question.”

“I didn’t want to wear them.”

“You have them. You’re going to wear them.”

“Fine.” Blake silently resolved to do nothing of the sort.

“All I'm saying” Braeden began. “Is that sometimes, I'll get up in the middle of the night to get a drink or whatever and see Blake's light still on at midnight or one AM. I still have a bedtime. So why shouldn't he?”

“He does have a bedtime.” His mom said with annoyance. “But he clearly isn't following it.” She sighed. “Thank you for telling me. We’ll clearly have to address that too with him.” She turned and faced the stairs. “Blake, can you come down here for a moment?”

“What’s up, mom?” He asked.

“What time do you go to bed at night?” She asked casually.

“10, why?”

“Is that true?” She gave him a withering look. As far as she was aware, that was the last bedtime they had given him, so she was a bit surprised he actually remembered that, given that she knew Braeden was right and Blake usually stayed up hours past it.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Braeden says he sees your light on at one in the morning.”

“Oh, I sometimes fall asleep with the light on by accident.”

“We both know that’s a lie, Blake.” She said sternly. “You need to start obeying the rules around here and one of the rules is a bedtime.”

“Ok.”

“So, to help you remember that, your bedtime tonight will be 7:30.”

“What?” He could not believe his ears, his face reddening as he began one of his tantrums.

“Just for tonight.” She said, raising a hand to calm him down. “After that, we’ll talk. It’s just to prove a point.”

“What point?” He asked irritably.

“The point that there are rules in this house and you will obey them, mister.”

“Alright,” his mom looked around his room as Blake sat sullenly on the bed. “First things first, pajamas.”

“Huh?”

“Don't you remember our conversation this morning? Your new room has plenty of pajamas. You don't need to sleep in your jeans.”

“Oh, I was just going to sleep in my underwear.” It was a lie, but it should have mollified his mom. He had slept in his boxer briefs for the last year, after all.

“That's just silly. Why let all of your pajamas just sit in the dresser gathering dust? They're in the second drawer from the bottom. Either you pick out some to wear or I do.” Blake sat on the bed, refusing to move. His mom sighed. “It's getting to your bedtime, Blake. If I have to dress you like a little boy, I will.” Seeing that he remained stubborn, she walked over to the dresser and pulled it open. “We have Pokémon, Minions, Spider-Man” her voice trailed off and she grabbed a shirt and green pants designed to look like Buzz Lightyear's space suit when worn together. “This looks fun! I think Braeden only wore this once, so I don't expect to hear any objections.” She handed them to Blake, but he still did not move. “You have until the count of three and then I will start dressing you.” She said. “I've had enough of you thinking you can just not follow rules around here.”

“There's no rule about having to wear pajamas!”

“There is now.” His mom said. “Honestly, sleeping in your jeans to avoid someone seeing your underwear? We all wear underwear, Blake.”

“But”

“No buts. One” She began to count, watching him closely. “Two.”

“You're just going to stand there and watch me?”

“Yes. It's clear you could do with some adult supervision. Two and a half.” Furious, Blake yanked his shirt up over his head and pulled on the Buzz Lightyear pajama shirt. Why did it have to fit him like it was made for him? “Two and three quarters.”

“I'm going!” He snarled, tugging down his jeans and hoping that the shirt covered his Spider-Man underoos. He stepped into the bright green pants as quickly as he could. They were maybe a bit too short, but not even really noticeably so.

“Thank you, Blake. I hope tomorrow night, you'll cooperate more and you're willing to pick out your own pajamas.” He wanted to say that it was not likely, but his mom looked to be in no mood to be antagonized. “Let’s go get your teeth brushed.”

Blake brushed his teeth without incident, but then he felt the need to pee. He mentioned it to his mom, but she seemed unwilling to leave him alone.

“Please?” He said, a hint of a whine seeping into his voice.

“Tell you what. I’ll leave the room for two minutes. I’m not having you barricade yourself in here to get out of bedtime.” Fully aware that this was the best he could hope for, Blake acquiesced.

Returning to his room with his mother close behind him, he sighed as she pulled back the covers and patted it for him to climb in. She pulled the covers over him before speaking.

“I know 7:30 is an early bedtime, so if you can prove that you can follow the rule and obey your bedtime, we'll discuss moving it to later.”

“How much later?”

“Well, I think we can give you the same bedtime as Braeden, but if you throw tantrums, it'll get moved up. Does that seem fair?”

“I guess. What time is his bedtime?”

“Nine-thirty.” She said with a smile. “But of course, getting out of bed the moment I close the door is not obeying your bedtime. I will be checking in on you.”

“Okay.”

Try as he might, Blake only managed to stay up as late as Braeden one night in the first week of the new bedtime rule. His mom set up a cardboard clock on the refrigerator and any time he threw a tantrum, she would send him into the kitchen to move his bedtime up half an hour. He was caught sneaking out of bed so often that his parents decided that that would cost him a full hour any time he was caught. Except for the one day where he went out of his way to do absolutely nothing wrong, either his mom or dad would put him to bed at 7:30 or 8 every night. By the end of the second week, he would start yawning around 7, to the point where the bedtime clock was done away with and his bedtime officially became 8:00, an hour and a half ahead of Braeden’s, although he occasionally ended up being put to bed at 7:30 if he got extra yawny and crabby.

Ever since the implementation of the bedtime rule, it occured to Blake that he no longer went to bed, he was put to bed. Each night, either his mom or dad would come into his room and supervise him putting on his pajamas, brushing his teeth, and climbing into bed. They would tuck him in and tell him ‘good night’ with a kiss on the forehead or cheek. In the moment, it seemed nice, but when he reflected on it, he was embarrassed by how childish the whole ritual made him feel. He wondered if Braeden went through the same thing, but he stayed up so much later than Blake, he might never find out.

Over those two weeks, however, he soon discovered other things to be concerned about. After his parents expressed concern about how thoroughly he was cleaning himself in the shower, they decided that he should start taking baths again under parental supervision. He still thankfully got to bathe himself, but his dad or mom would point out any spots he missed as he sat there in a tub and hold the towel out for him when he emerged from the tub. They did not bat an eye at his nudity, but seemed concerned when he got too bashful.

If there was one part of Blake’s life that did not change, it was chores. He was still expected to clean, vacuum, empty the dishwasher, accompany his mom to the grocery store, and help her with laundry, although he no longer actually did the laundry.

“Blake! You're supposed to be helping mommy.” His mom said. She sat on the couch with a basket of clean clothes beside her, but he sat on the floor, pouting that he had already used the hour of TV time he was now allowed every day.

“Sorry.” He said.

“Apology accepted.” She said with a smile. “Whose are these?” He looked up and saw her holding up a pair of his Pokémon briefs. Right there in the middle of the living room! He quickly snatched them from her hands.

“Mine.” She smiled mischievously.

“And these?” Blake looked at the navy blue boxer briefs and sighed.

“Braeden’s.” She continued in this way with each pair of underwear she came across, holding them up as if she could not tell the difference between Braeden’s plain boxer briefs and Blake’s juvenilely colorful underoos.

They were still at it when Braeden came in from helping his dad organize the toolshed, wiping sweat from his brow as he stepped into the living room to see his mom holding up a pair of white briefs with blue piping and bright yellow Minions all over. He smiled as he thought about the dark red boxer briefs he had on under his shorts and he could not help but snicker as Blake had to bashfully claim the Minions underoos as his own.

“I don’t even remember wearing those.” Blake muttered shyly.

“I think you wore them last Tuesday.” His mom said. “Good thing mommy’s here to remind you, hmm?” Blake did not look so convinced. “Don’t go anywhere, Braeden. We’ll be done here in a minute and you can take your clothes up before you shower.” Braeden smiled and sat down, alternating between texting and watching Blake glumly direct his mom in whose underwear was whose. He had never minded wearing underoos, but there was something amazing about watching his older brother have to claim each and every pair.

“Alright, boys.” Their mom said once laundry was done. “Take your clothes up to your rooms and then we can all go get ice cream. Doesn’t that sound fun?” They both readily agreed, dashing up stairs to put their clothes away.

“Hey, Blake.” Braeden said, opening his door without knocking and walking in. Why did no one ever knock? “I think mom put a pair of your underwear in my pile.” He held up the Power Rangers underoos and Blake tried to snatch them away, but Braeden held them up out of his reach. “Are they yours?”

“Yes.” Blake sullenly muttered.

“I want to hear you say it.” Braeden said with a grin. “Say that these are your Power Rangers undies.”

“They're my Power Rangers undies.” Blake mumbled. Braeden snickered and handed them to him.

“I'm checking tomorrow to see if you're wearing them.”

“But”

“But what?” Braeden had been about to leave, but he turned to look back at Blake. Blake shook his head and looked down at the floor. “C'mon. We're brothers. We tell each other things. Tell me.”

“I can't guarantee I'll be wearing them tomorrow.”

“Why's that?” Braeden's voice had such genuine concern that Blake felt himself trusting him. How long had it been since they had talked to each other like almost equals.

“Cuz” Blake mumbled. “Cuz mommy picks out my clothes for me.” He looked up at Braeden, who smiled warmly back to him.

“Oh, well, I bet you can ask mommy to let you wear those tomorrow. Might even show her you're taking responsibility like a big boy. That is why you lost the privilege to pick out your own clothes, right?” Blake returned to staring down at the floor, but Braeden just tapped his shoulder. “C'mon, mom's probably wondering what's taking us so long.”

“There you two are!” She said as they came down the stairs.

“You accidentally put one of Blake's underoos in my pile. Just sorting it out.”

“It was Blake's job to sort them while I was folding.” She said, giving him a look. “You be sure to pay closer attention, mister.” She smiled. “Let's get going. I want ice cream, how about you?”

The walk to the ice cream store would have been uneventful if they had not had to cross Oak Avenue. Oak Avenue was easily the busiest street in town, but Blake, confident that he could gauge traffic, ran across just as a car came speeding by. He turned around triumphantly on the other side of the road, but his mother was mortified.

“Blake Anthony Clarkson! What were you thinking?” She said, her dragon face out in full force.

“It was safe, mom.” He said, a whimper already entering his voice. “It looked closer than it actually was.”

“I don't want to hear it, mister.” She gave him a covert smack on the bottom. “Since you can't even be trusted to cross the road safely, you're going to hold my hand for the rest of this trip.”

“But mom!”

“Shush.” She said. “Until you can be trusted to pay attention, you'll be holding mommy's hand whenever we cross the street. Just like a little boy. Understand?”

“Yes.” For the rest of the walk, she firmly held his hand as they walked, taking care to dramatically look left, right, and then left again each and every time they reached a street or even an alleyway to cross. It seemed an eternity before they reached By the Scoop and Blake could successfully wrench his hand free.

"I'll order our ice cream. Braeden, take your brother to the bathroom so you two can wash your hands." Blake bristled from the way she phrased it, but followed his brother to the bathroom.

"Hold on a sec. I have to pee." Braeden said, going over to the urinal. Blake started washing his hands, glowering in the mirror. Why should he have to wash his hands? Did his mom's have germs on them or something? "Whatcha wearing today?" Braeden called conversationally.

"What do you mean?" Blake looked down at his LEGO t-shirt.

"You know what I mean." Blake saw his cheeks turn pink in the mirror.

"Toy Story." He whispered, but it still seemed to echo in the empty bathroom.

"Why'd you pick those?"

"Ever since you tattled and told her I don't wear pajamas to bed, mom sets my clothes out for me. You know that!" Braeden chuckled as he washed his hands.

"Maybe if you tried behaving, mom and dad would get you some boxer briefs like me."

"You're wearing my underwear." Braeden stepped right up to Blake so that his superior height was as obvious as it could be.

"It's been weeks, Blake. By now, you should realize that I wear boxer briefs and you wear underoos." He grinned at him and tousled his hair. "Try showing some responsibility and maybe you'll get to grow up." Blake glared at him as they both left the bathroom.

Their mom was sitting at a table with their ice cream, but Braeden spied something and grabbed one of the plastic bibs from by the napkin dispensers.

“Put it on, Blake.” He said with a malevolent grin. It was white plastic with the words ‘I'm a By the Scoop Baby’ on it in blue.

“No way.”

“It would make a cute picture.” His mom mused. “But, if you don't want to, you don't have to.” Blake grinned in relief, glad that his mom was taking his side for what felt like the first time in years.

"Come on, Blake." Braeden just would not quit. "Just one pic."

"I said no." Blake said, trying to sound as mature and measured as he could, Braeden's words in the bathroom echoing in his mind.

"Please?"

"He did say please, Blake." His mom said, a smile playing at her lips. She could not help feeling like Blake would be wearing the bib before too long. Braeden had always had a way of getting his way. Blake gave a melodramatic sigh.

"Just one pic?" He looked around the parlor. They were the only ones there for the moment, so it seemed unlikely that anyone would see. "And then I can take it off?"

"Yep." Braeden grinned, fully confident he was about to get exactly what he wanted.

"And you won't show anyone?"

"He'll need to send it to me." His mom said. Braeden fished his phone out of his pocket and Blake's face temporarily darkened.

Braeden had recently gotten his own cell phone as a reward for his increased responsibility around the house. He had been given it after Blake was in bed, but it did not take long for Blake to see it. His jealous demand for one had led to him being told he would not get his own phone until he had a reason for one. When he demanded to know why Braeden needed one, his dad had explained that Braeden would be on the soccer team once school resumed for the autumn. Since Blake did not like sports, his parents had decided he did not need one.

He sighed as he remembered that his subsequent tantrum had led to him being put to bed that evening at six PM. He had angrily pulled on his Pokémon pajamas under both parents’ watchful eyes and climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling and pouting until he finally dozed off closer to eight o’clock.

“Well?” Braeden held the bib out toward Blake with a grin. Defeated, he took the bib from Braeden.

“Will it even fit?” He wondered out loud, even though he knew that, given his luck, it would fit like it was made for him. He had to pull a bit to get it over his head, but it settled around his neck easily enough. Sure, it was tight, but not uncomfortably so, especially since he would only wear it for a moment.

“Smile!” His mom said cheerfully as Braeden held up his phone. Blake knew that he took more than one photo, but remembered to remain mature.

“Got it.” Braeden grinned, entirely too pleased with himself in Blake’s opinion. He ripped at the bib and it came off.

“Careful.” His mom said. “You could’ve choked yourself.”

“I didn’t.” He replied, resuming eating his ice cream.

“Look how cute.” His mom gushed as Braeden sent the photos to her phone. She showed Blake, who just shrugged it off. His smile looked fake and uneasy, which seemed perfect to him. He did not want anyone thinking he willingly wore that bib.

Once they finished eating, Blake gathered their garbage and threw it away. His mom smiled at him with surprised approval.

“Very mature.” She said. “But you’ll still be holding my hand on the way home.” Blake felt his face pale. He had forgotten all about that new rule. He took her hand, hoping that no one would notice him holding her hand like some little boy. “When we get home,” she said as they walked. “You can help me make dinner. It’s just you and me tonight.”

“What, why?”

“Remember? Daddy and Braeden are going to the baseball game. It’s an evening game, so it’d go past your bedtime, wouldn’t it?” She could not help but chuckle at his dark expression. “We’ll have fun, don’t worry.”

True to her word, when they got home, she shepherded Blake into the kitchen to help her cut vegetables for dinner while his dad and Braeden got ready to go to the game.

“Oh, no you don’t.” His mom said, taking the knife from him. “You wash the vegetables. I’ll cut them.” He walked over to the sink and started doing it. “We don’t need you to hurt yourself on my watch.”

“We’re off.” His dad said, stepping into the kitchen. “Blake, be a good boy for mommy, okay?” Hearing his dad say ‘mommy’ seemed so much weirder than his mom using the childish terms. Blake simply nodded. When had they started saying mommy and daddy again? He was not sure. It had been at least a week, hadn’t it? Maybe two? How long ago had the room swap that had started all this been? A month already?

“Let’s see.” His mom said as he finished loading the dishwasher after dinner. “We’ve got a bit of time before your bath, so should we play a game?”

“What game?” He asked.

“Any game you want. You’ve already used up your TV time for today, so I suppose it’ll have to be a board game.” For a brief second, Blake had hoped that his mom would relax the TV time limit rule, but why would she? He would be going to bed soon anyway. “I know, how about checkers?” Blake simply shrugged, which she took to mean ‘yes'. “We could even make it fun.” She said as she started the dishwasher and they moved toward the living room.

“How?”

“If you win, you can stay up until Daddy and Braeden get back.” He considered the offer, fully aware that he would find it very difficult to stay up long past eight.

“Just one game?”

“Depends on how fast we play, but I think we could do best out of three.” They set up the board and Blake resolved to win. After losing the first game, he resolved again, and twice as hard. He would win! He started out strong in the second game, aggressively marching his pieces across the board. It all came crumbling down, however, and he realized that he was going to lose, zero to two.

“Oh, no.” He whispered as he realized that his blunder had let his mom win the second game. She smiled sympathetically as she took his final black piece.

“Alright, kiddo. Upstairs. It's bath time.” He got up and sighed.

“When can I go back to taking showers?”

“Why did you lose the privilege?” His mom asked as they headed upstairs. “Quit grumbling and tell me. I don't speak bear cub.”

“Because Braeden tattled.” He said with a sigh that turned into a yawn.

“No, because you were coming out of the shower dirtier than you went in!” His mom said as she followed him into his room.

“I'm too old for baths.” He said, yawning again.

“Get undressed.” His mom walked over to his dresser and pulled open his pajamas drawer. He pulled his shirt over his head, using the cover to glare at his mom's back. “Don't glare.” She said without looking up. “And by the way, I agree you're too old for baths, but you sure don't act like it. As far as I can tell, you only showered once a week!” He sighed and pulled down his shorts and Toy Story underoos in one swoop, covering his groin with his clothes as he brought them over to the hamper.

“Can I start showering once school starts?” He asked hopefully. “I'll have to shower after gym class anyway.” His mom smiled at him.

“Get to the bath, mister. No more dilly-dallying.” She nudged him by the shoulder toward the door, chuckling at how he still covered himself after the last few weeks of nightly baths. “And don't be so sure about showering at school. I can talk to the school about figuring out a way for you to take a bath after gym.” He looked over his shoulder at her, thoroughly scandalized. There was no way she could hide her amusement. “Mommy's just joking, Blake.”

She filled the tub as she always did, smiling at how Blake showed that he was somewhat used to this new arrangement by peeing as she watched the tub fill. At first, he would squirm in what he must have thought was a subtle fashion, obviously affected by the sound of running water, until she finally had had enough and told him to pee because she would not tolerate him peeing in the tub. Now though, he just did it without even batting an eye, although she suspected he washed his hands far more thoroughly knowing that she was right there. She could only instill so many good habits at a time though.

“Tub's all set, just missing the last ingredient of clean boy soup!” His mom said, stepping aside to allow the naked boy to step in to the warm water. He sat down, barely stifling a yawn. “Good thing it's almost bedtime.” His mom said, tapping his nose lovingly. She handed him the washcloth with plenty of melodramatic gravitas and then settled down to supervise his bath.

Determined to win back his shower privileges, Blake cleaned himself as thoroughly as he thought he ever had. He took it as a point of pride that his mom did not tell him a single spot he missed, instead standing up and smiling down at the meticulously bathed boy, who was now yawning every few minutes.

“Is it a shark or T-rex night?” She asked.

“Normal towel.”

“T-rex it is.” She said, unfolding the green towel and wrapping it around him. Between the two of them, they got him dried off.

Blake wrapped the towel around his waist and headed toward the bathroom door, but his mom grabbed it and pulled it off. He yelped and covered himself, which meant he could not fight as his mom draped the towel over his shoulders and put the hood on his head.

“There we are.” She said. “Off to your room we go, Blake the dinosaur!” He shuffled off down the hall, shaking his head a bit to try to get the hood off, but it stuck to his still damp hair.

"Alright, Blake, time for jammies!" His mom said the moment they entered his room. He deposited the towel in the hamper.

"I know." He mumbled, walking over to his bed, where his mom had set out his pajamas. He had not noticed that she had set out a pair of Pokémon underoos right on top where anyone could have seen them. He quickly grabbed them, hiding them with his body.

"What was that nickname I used to call you?" She asked as he stepped into his underwear. "Braeden was baby bug and you were" she paused. "What was it?"

"Don't remember." He mumbled, staring down at his Minions pajamas. At least his mom had stopped trying to match his underwear and pajamas.

"Bunny!" She exclaimed at once. He groaned. "C'mon Blake! Don't you remember?" She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from his bed.

"Yeah. I remember." He felt very aware that he was in nothing but his underwear.

"C'mon, Blake. Hop like a bunny for mommy." Holding his hands in front of his chest, he gave two little, half-hearted hops. "C'mon. Hop like a bunny! Daddy and Braeden are at the baseball game. No one will hear!"

"I'll hop after I put on my pajamas." He tried to be diplomatic, she would hear none of it.

"Don't be like that, Blake. Hop!" He sighed, hopping up and down in place. She smiled the warmest smile he had seen in a long time. "Hop around your room, bunny! Hop, hop, hop!" Blake complied, hoping that this would all just end. He kept catching glances of himself hopping around the room in just his childish underwear. He was so embarrassed, he nearly missed what his mom said next. "Oh, your dad's going to love this!”

"What do you mean?" He asked, panting from the exertion.

"Put your jammies on. It's time for my tired little bunny boy to get his bunny butt to bed." He began to dress, grumbling as he realized he would probably be stuck with the preschool nickname again.

"What do you mean dad's going to love this?"

"Oh, I took a little video of you hopping around your room, Bunny." She turned her phone toward him and showed him. The video made no effort to hide the fact that he was hopping around in just his underwear.

"You can't show that to him!"

"Hush. Mommy already sent it. You can ask Daddy about it in the morning."

"But"

"Inside voice, please. Get your jammies on and get into bed, Blake. I'm sure Daddy will love seeing his little Bunny boy back."