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Hello All! It's been a while since I've posted a new story, but I'm back with a project I'm very excited about! "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" is the story of Rei Akiyama, a young girl trying to navigate through life in a near future dystopia where the age of majority has been raised to 28 for girls and regressive behavioral therapy has become popular to help girls adjust to these new laws. The world this story is set in is very strongly inspired by/based on the world building of Alteredstates, so a lot of credit goes to him! For those unfamiliar with Alteredstates, he does world building through ad copy and other cultural artifacts. While you don't need to be familiar with his work to understand and appreciate this story, I strongly recommend you check it out! Not only because it will help you immerse yourself in this world, but also because it's genuinely really good! You can find him on Tumblr, Twitter, and Patreon! Without further ado, I give you the prologue and first two chapters of "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" Prologue The night of Wednesday, October 4th, 2028, was unseasonably cold in the city of Greenham; snow was in the forecast for the next day in a city that rarely saw a snowflake until at least January. By 7:28PM, there were already flurries dancing through the cold wind that whipped through the dumpsters behind City Hall, where John Bennet, the head of City Hall security, stood with his foot propping open the emergency exit of the east stairwell. He blew out a lungful of smoke as he dropped his cigarette on the pavement below and crushed it beneath his shoe. John was nothing if not a creature of habit; so much so that, if one cared to be so observant, they could predict exactly what time John would take the last smoke break of his shift before he did his final sweep of the building. He would then go home to his shabby apartment. That night, however, was different. That night, John wouldn’t be going home; he would be meeting a 28-year-old girl he had met on the internet. That night, John’s phone rang just as he was about to go back inside. He fished his phone out of his pocket, smiling when he saw his date’s name on the caller ID, and swiped his finger across the screen as he raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, trying to sound smooth, “I can’t wait to see you.” On the other end of the phone, a young-sounding voice poured honeyed words into his ear as he turned and walked back into the building. Another night, under less distracting circumstances, John would have almost certainly noticed that the door never clicked closed behind him, but the telling silence was lost amongst the words that sent his blood pumping. In a bar a few miles away, Edward Cook was ordering a drink for a girl who looked too young to be there. The girl blushed as she slid her ID and emancipation card across the counter at the bartender’s request, brushing her blue hair behind her ear to look coyly at Edward out of the corner of her eye as she did. Edward never even noticed the girl on the other side of him, or her hand as she slipped a hard plastic card at the end of a black lanyard out of his suit jacket pocket. The card, printed with Edward’s picture and the seal of the Office of Juvenile Affairs, disappeared into the girl’s clutch purse as she quietly slipped away from the bar. She checked the time on her phone as she stepped out into the frosty night: 7:34PM. Elsewhere, the number 9 county bus was pulling over for an unscheduled stop due to a disturbance on the bus involving three young girls. The driver, Richard Lawson, broke up the altercation with the help of another passenger and removed the girls from the bus. That taken care of, an exasperated Richard reported the incident to dispatch, who noted the number 9 bus was running ten minutes behind but was resuming his route at 7:47PM. Back at the courthouse, John, having finished his final sweep of the building and found nothing out of the ordinary, put the finishing touches on his security logs for the night and leaned back in his chair, eyes sweeping over the bank of CCTV monitors that showed snapshots of the interior of the courthouse. It was, however, the clock that John was truly focused on, his eyes constantly flicking between it and the monitors. The moment those numbers turned from 7:59 to 8:00PM, John pushed himself out of his chair and jabbed his finger at the button that caused all of the monitors to wink out simultaneously. Had he waited just a minute longer, he might have seen the black garbed figures slip in from the emergency exit in the east stairwell. He could have watched as they crept up that staircase and slipped into second floor hallway. Another camera would have shown the figures slink down the hallway, past the Permits Office and the Office of Parks and Recreation. On a third camera, the figures stopped in front of a frosted glass door with Office of Juvenile Affairs printed across it in thick, black block letters. One of the figures swiped a card by the panel next to the door, the light turned from red to green, and the figures quickly disappeared through the door. Later, security logs would be pulled showing Edward Cook had accessed the office at 8:04PM; the subsequent investigation would find Cook was not guilty of any direct involvement but would still lose his position on the grounds of gross negligence. By 8:15PM, Greenham City Hall was silent and empty. At 8:17PM, the number 9 county bus blew past the empty bus stop at the far end of the City Hall parking lot. On an ordinary night, Richard would typically idle at this station for a few minutes, but he was working hard to make up for lost time. The next few stops were just as empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of night on a weekday. It was 8:34PM when the bus pulled up to the stop at Greenham Community College, where three girls and four boys boarded the bus, all of them in their late teens and early twenties. Richard Lawson wouldn’t even think to mention this to investigators later, though they likely would have made nothing of it if he had. By 8:50PM, the city of Greenham, a suburb of the nation’s capital city, was settling into its slumber. A few bars and restaurants were still pouring drinks for late night clientele, but curfew was quickly approaching and all those affected were either already home or else rushing to get there. At 8:54PM, the electric engine of the number 9 county bus was humming along through the streets of one such sleepy neighborhood, empty but for Ricard Lawson and a small handful of passengers: a young girl with black hair and tawny skin carrying a bookbag tight to her chest, two boys with their feet on the seats laughing raucously in the back of the bus, and a mother and a daughter riding together. Richard glanced up at the passengers in his rearview mirror and caught the eye of the daughter. She had bright blue eyes, a practical waterfall of golden curls, and looked to be in her early twenties. Richard smiled at the girl in the mirror; he had to admit, she was adorable in her pink shirt and plaid skirtall. She smiled back at him from behind the shield of her pacifier. The mother turned away from the book in her hand and leaned over the girl, slipping one hand up the girl’s skirtall. Richard quickly averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was invading their privacy. “Oh, Rebecca,” the older woman sighed quietly, but still loud enough to be heard easily on the otherwise silent bus, “your pull-up is soaked; did you even know you had to go?” The girl’s smile disappeared into her blush as she mumbled some words from behind her pacifier. The mother chuckled. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she ruffled her daughter’s hair, “we’re almost home! Then we can get you changed into your nighttime diapers and feed you a nice bottle before bed, would you like that?” She booped her daughter’s nose and sent the girl into a fit of laughter. The black-haired girl shifted in her seat across from the mother and daughter, obviously trying to avoid looking at them. She glanced at her phone, 9:52PM. Richard Lawson shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the cooing and giggling going on behind him. Little single-family homes passed by as he made his way down Ridgemont Street, and only more in sight as he turned right down Wrighton Square. The bell dinged and Richard slowly pressed the brake, bringing the bus to a stop at the corner or Wrighton and Central Lake Drive. Richard wished his passengers a good night, stay safe, as they all got off. Glancing back in his rearview mirror to confirm the bus was empty, Richard slowly accelerated into the night. Peter Grant watched the bus pull away from the front seat of his Greenham Police Department Cruiser. He scanned the passengers leaving the bus stop. Two young men cross the street and kept walking up Wrighton Square while three women started walking up Central Lake Drive and toward his cruiser. He checked his clock: 9:56, damn near too late for young women to be out alone. “Let’s check it out,” he said to his partner, Dave Clusky, as he stepped out of the cruiser and started crossing the street towards the trio. As Peter approached, the women were backlit by a streetlamp, but he could make out the vaguely feminine shapes of three women. Two of them walked side by side as the third, at least a few inches shorter than the other two, walked a couple of feet behind. Peter raised his flashlight, “Excuse me, ladies,” he called out officiously as the beam of light cut through the night, bringing the slowly drifting flakes of snow into heavy contrast. The three ladies stopped in their tracks. The shorter of the two in front whimpered behind her pacifier and clung to the older woman next to her as they both blinked against the light. The girl behind them gasped inaudibly and stared ahead like a deer in headlights for a moment before raising a hand to protect her eyes from the worst of the light. “Evening, ma’am,” Peter nodded to the older woman, “these your children?” The woman glanced behind her, then back to Peter, “just this one,” she replied, squeezing Rebecca close to her. Peter nodded, “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Best get your little one inside, it looks to be about her bedtime.” The mother laughed politely, “yes, we’ve had a very long day, thank you, officer.” She tugged on Rebecca’s hand and quietly urged the girl on. Peter swept his flashlight over a few degrees to focus his beam on the girl in the white button up shirt and plaid suspender skirt. “Could you lower your hand, miss? How old are you?” “Uhm, nineteen,” she replied nervously, “I know it’s—” “It’s almost curfew,” Peter interrupted her, “you allowed to be out past curfew?” “Um, no, sir, I—” “Yeah, didn’t think so. What’s your name? What are you doing out so late?” “Um, Rei, sir, and I’m coming home from college, sir, I was—” “College?” Dave chimed in, “you got parental permission for that?” “Yes, sir, and I—” “What were you doing at college this late?” Peter asked. “You go to Greenham CC?” “Yes, sir, I was studying—” “Studying,” Dave scoffed, “yeah, right.” “I was, sir, I have—” “You got a pass from your professor?” Peter asked. “Yes, sir, it’s—” “Well?” Dave said impatiently. “Let’s see it,” Peter demanded. “Yes, sir,” the girl reached into her backpack and produced a folded sheet of paper that was immediately snatched out of her hand. “Professor Lewis? English?” Peter read key words off the piece of paper before handing it off to Dave. Dave looked the sheet over, made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, then handed it back to Peter. “Looks legit” “You know it’s almost curfew, kid?” Peter turned back towards the girl, thrusting the paper back at her. “Yes, sorry, I was—” “Yeah, you were at college, you said. You live close by?” “Yes, sir, I—” “Where at?” “Just up the street,” she raised her hand and pointed behind Peter. “Uh huh,” Peter sounded skeptical. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 9:59PM. “Think you can get home before curfew hits, little girl?” He smiled maliciously. The girl’s knees went weak; she clutched her bag to her chest as if it could protect from him the malice in his smile. Her vision tunneled in on the face of Peter Grant and the world around her sounded like it was moving through water. Tick. 10:00PM. As curfew went into effect all over Greenham and it’s surrounding townships, the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall exploded outward, raining fire and rubble into it’s expansive parking lot. The sound of the explosion tore through the still night air, audible as a low rumbling miles away on Central Lake Drive. A portion of the horizon of the night sky lit up. “The fuck…?” Peter cursed. “Fuck me!” Dave swore. The girl let out a quiet yelp and resisted the urge to make a break for it. Silence filled the air in the aftermath of the explosion, and then the radios on Dave and Peter’s shoulders started squawking. They completely forgot about the girl as they scrambled back to their cruiser. Chapter One Snowflakes were melting in Rei Akiyama’s hair as she slumped against the front door of her house. She was still shaking and trying to steady her breath. “You’re late,” a voice said from the living room. “I know, I’m sorry, Mom,” Rei said, still panting slightly as she took her shoes off before entering the room. “The bus was running late; I ran all the way here from the bus stop.” Ms. Akiyama made a sound in her throat as she looked her daughter up and down. “You were studying? Let me see your pass.” “Yes, Mom,” Rei said as she pulled out the now slightly crumpled piece of paper out of her bag and handed it over. “You’re working too hard in school,” Ms. Akiyama said matter-of-factly. “Well, whatever, I’m glad you’re home,” she discarded the paper on the end table, “I was starting to get worried when I heard that rumbling. Did you hear that?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei nodded and chewed on her lip, unsure what else to say on the topic. “Rei, stop chewing your lip, it’s a bad nervous habit.” “Yes, Mom, sorry.” Rei forced herself to stop and instead just looked down at her shoes. “Well?” Ms. Akiyama asked expectantly a moment later. “It’s almost bedtime; shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? The news said we were supposed to get a few inches of snow, so school will probably be cancelled tomorrow, but I want you in bed on time just in case, okay?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei replied. She tried her best not to turn and run up the stairs, but instead walked casually up them as if it had just been a normal night of studying. Her mother watched her go, sensing something was off about her daughter, but she was unable to put her finger on what, exactly, she was sensing. Rei stopped briefly at the top of the stairs, turned back, and gave a small smile and wave when she saw her mother was still watching, then disappeared around the corner. Ms. Akiyama sighed quietly: what was she going to do with that girl? She was worried what kind of ideas her school was filling her head with, and Rei being out all-night studying didn’t do anything to allay that worry. Picking up the pass Rei had given her, Ms. Akiyama turned and settled back down on the couch. According to the pass, Rei had been working on her midterm essay for English with Professor Lewis. Sighing once more, she set the note aside, making a mental note to ask Rei what she was writing her essay about (maybe that would give her a clue on exactly what kind of idea’s the school was filling Rei’s head with), and turned her attention back to the TV where a mature looking woman was smiling back at her while holding a colorful package. “That why I decided to try new Pampers Overnight Diapers! They are expertly designed for girls who wet the bed,” as the woman delivered the line, she reached her free hand out the side and pulled a young girl of about eight or ten into the frame and into a side hug, “and those who don’t,” the camera pulled out and panned over to reveal an older girl about Rei’s age staring distractedly at her phone seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, “yet,” the mother added after a beat and punctuated it with a wink. Upstairs, Rei leaned against the wall, just out of sight, focusing on getting her breathing back to normal. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but, so far, nothing had gone terribly wrong. She could only hope it stayed that way. Rei pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the hallway towards her bedroom, closing her door behind her just as downstairs the TV alerted her mother to breaking news. As Ms. Akiyama was stunned to hear of the bombing just a few miles from her, Rei was tossing her backpack on the floor next to her desk and throwing herself face down on her bed. She was slightly dazed and more than exhausted. Part of her couldn’t believe the events of the night. Yes, they had been making plans for weeks now, she had known this night was coming, but now that it was done…it felt surreal. She was terrified of what would come next. Still, there was one more thing she had to do before this night was over. Rei crept back to her bedroom door, listened carefully, then cracked the door ever so slightly. The distant sounds of the TV still drifted up the stairs and the hallway was empty. Closing the door silently, she rushed across the carpet in socked feet to her desk, which, looking back over her shoulder towards the door, she inched away from the wall. Kneeling down, Rei reached behind the desk and pried off a piece of the baseboard to reveal a small crevice between the wall and the floor from which Rei produced a cell phone at least a decade old. It was black with a silver lined screen and a numeric keyboard. Rei brought up the messaging app only to be greeted with over a dozen texts; each was from a different number, but they all said the same thing: “home safe.” She sighed with relief, painstakingly typed out her own missive (“home safe”) on the numeric keyboard and pressed send before immediately replacing the phone in its hiding place and putting everything back in order. Now, Rei thought, it was time to get ready for bed. Chapter Two “It was confirmed early this morning that there were no casualties or injuries in last night’s explosion at the Greenham City Hall, which occurred at exactly 10PM and destroyed most of the building’s eastern half. While authorities have yet to make any statements regarding the cause of the explosion, many are already speculating that this was an act of domestic terrorism committed by the radical leftist feminist group Rebel in response to recent social policy legislation restricting the rights of women under twenty-eight. Supporters of this theory have been quick to point out that the offices of the newly established Office of Juvenile Affairs, which was formed to enforce these new policies, was located in the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall. We’ll be sure to bring you all the breaking details on this story as it develops. Back to you in the studio, Steve.” As the news switched back to less interesting stories, Ms. Akiyama turned her attention away from the tablet propped up on the kitchen counter and back to the cast iron skillet in front of her where the pancakes were beginning to form bubbles along the edge of the batter. She flipped them with the kind of perfection that only came with years of practice and shook her head, it was just terrible what had happened. She knew some people thought the new laws were going too far, but surely bombing buildings was going just as far, if not further. No, it wasn’t the proper way to go about voicing dissent at all. And if this was the kind of stuff feminism was preaching these days, maybe there was some sense to these new laws. Certainly they didn’t teach girls to behave that way when she was younger. Ms. Akiyama just prayed Rei’s head wasn’t being filled with this kind of stuff at that college she had begged so hard to go to. Maybe it wasn’t too late to put her in a vocational school; with a little discipline, Rei could make an excellent secretary. Or maybe she could get Rei a job working at a daycare; Rei always liked children, and maybe tapping into Rei’s maternal instincts was just what was needed to make sure she stayed on the right path. Or, there was always… No, no, Ms. Akiyama shoved that thought away. Rei was a good kid; a bit headstrong, but a good kid, surely that option was too drastic. Ms. Akiyama sighed as she stacked the pancakes on the steadily growing pile; she just wanted Rei to be safe and have a nice, happy life. She didn’t want her daughter falling in with the wrong crowd and getting herself in trouble. It wasn’t easy raising a daughter in such complicated times. Ms. Akiyama was still musing on such matters when Rei shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, almost instinctively following the smell of pancakes. “Pancakes?” Rei asked hopefully. “Does that mean school is canceled?” Mom typically never made pancakes on weekdays. “It sure does,” Ms. Akiyama replied cheerfully, trying to hide the somber mood the news had put her in. “Have you looked outside? We got quite a lot of snow!” Rei grinned and rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room and its bay window overlooking their front yard and the street beyond. Everything was white and brilliantly bright in the morning sun, covered in what must have been at least five or six inches of snow. Even the road was covered; it seemed like the snowplows hadn’t made it to their neighborhood yet. Rei couldn’t help but stare out the window in wonderment; she had always loved the snow. There was just something magical about it. Behind her, Ms. Akiyama leaned against the door frame and grinned. When it came to snow, kids were always kids. “Come on,” Ms. Akiyama said after giving Rei a few moments to take in the wintery spread, “the pancakes are getting cold.” She turned and headed back in to the kitchen without checking to make sure Rei was following her. The news was once again talking about last night’s incident, so Ms. Akiyama quickly turned it off as she grabbed the plate of pancakes; she didn’t want to upset Rei with such terrible news first thing in the morning. “So,” Ms. Akiyama said as she set the plate of pancakes on the table and Rei settled into her seat, “you were working on an essay with your professor last night?” She grabbed the syrup from the fridge before settling into her own seat. “Um, yeah,” Rei responded simply as she loaded her plate with pancakes, “my midterm essay,” she added after a moment. “Oh, that’s nice,” Ms. Akiyama passed the syrup across the table and took a couple pancakes off the stack for herself. “What’s it about?” “Um,” Rei was drenching her pancakes in syrup, “well, it’s…well, our professor gave us some articles to choose from and we just have to like respond to one of them.” “Interesting, what kind of articles?” “Just, you know, current events stuff.” “Uh-huh, and what article did you choose?” Sure, Ms. Akiyama was testing the waters, trying to see what kind of stuff Rei was learning at school, but, to her credit, she was genuinely interested in her daughter’s life. Rei, on the other hand, was getting nervous. Her mother didn’t usually ask her this many questions about her schoolwork. Rei liked that her mother didn’t ask her about her schoolwork. Rei thought the less her mother asked about her schoolwork, the better. Why was her mother suddenly interested? She thought about lying, but if her mother asked to see the essay, she’d be caught immediately. “Well, just about…about the passing of The Hayes Act…” “Oh, I see.” Rei shoveled a too large bite of pancakes into her mouth to avoid having to respond. Oh, I see? What did that mean? Rei tried to smile around the bite of pancakes, but her eyes were searching her mother’s face for anything that might hint to her true reaction. Ms. Akiyama worked to keep her face as passive as possible, raising her cup and taking a long, slow sip of coffee to help her efforts. She had barely discussed the act with her daughter since its passage six months ago. She hadn’t needed to much, and it had always felt like such a…touchy subject. “Why did you choose that article?” Ms. Akiyama asked, trying hard to sound casual but interested and definitely non-confrontational. Just a mom interested in her daughter’s schoolwork. Rei speared a hunk of pancake with her fork and cut it away from the rest with her knife, “Um, I just thought the article was interesting,” she spoke with her head down, giving her voice a muffled quality. “What was the article about?” Ms. Akiyama knew Rei had strong feelings about The Hayes Act, and she couldn’t blame her. Rei had turned nineteen a month before the law had passed; she had been an adult for thirteen months when she once again became a child in the eyes of the law for another nine years. Of course, Ms. Akiyama understood why her daughter felt so strongly about it; she respected Rei’s passion, but she wished Rei could accept that there was nothing that could be done. She wished Rei could just accept that the world wasn’t what her mother had promised it would be she told Rei she could grow up to be whatever she wanted. “Just,” Rei shrugged, “I guess the author was talking about how it shouldn’t have passed and stuff…” The two were in a minefield; they both knew it. Neither wanted this to end in an explosion, but one couldn’t leave, and the other couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Oh,” Ms. Akiyama said, “do you talk about that kind of stuff a lot in school?” The last time they had discussed The Hayes Act had been when it had come time for Rei to enroll in her second year at Greenham Community College. With Rei then legally a child, she needed Ms. Akiyama’s permission to continue attending college. Ms. Akiyama could have stopped her; she had certainly been tempted to do it. Rei shrugged, “What do you mean ‘that kind of stuff’?” “Stuff like The Hayes Act? Politics?” “I guess, sometimes.” “What kind of stuff do they teach you about it?” Rei shrugged, “I mean, they just like…explain how it came to be. Historically, you know?” “I see.” Ms. Akiyama could sense her daughter getting…defensive? Evasive? She was certainly becoming something. Maybe it was time to pump the brakes. “I just worry,” Ms. Akiyama said, genuinely thinking it would help defuse the situation. “Worried?!” Rei said a little too loudly, “there’s nothing to worry about, Mom!” “It’s just…I hear a lot these days about what kinds of things colleges are teaching and—” “Mo-om!” “—and I don’t want them filling your head with the wrong kinds of ideas, that’s all!” “Mom, they are not…brainwashing me, okay?” “I didn’t say brainwashing, okay? I just hear what kinds of things colleges teach these days, that’s all,” Ms. Akiyama repeated. Rei slumped in her chair. Her mom had managed to ruin pancakes. “I just want you to be happy,” Ms. Akiyama said after a long, awkward pause. She reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “College just makes things harder for most girls these days, and, besides, you study so much, it’s not good for you.” “But I like school, Mom. It makes me happy.” “Well, why don’t we sign you up for one of those extended high school for girls programs?” Ms. Akiyama smiled, genuinely thinking it would be a good suggestion. “Ugh, Mom,” Rei withdrew her hand and shot her mother a withering look, “those are just housewife classes.” “There’s nothing wrong with that, Rei!” “I’m not saying there is,” Rei protested, “it’s just not what I want to do.” “I know, you want to be a teacher, but I just don’t…well…you can’t be a teacher for another nine years, what if by then they don’t let women be teachers anymore?” A silence fell over the room as both mother and daughter felt the weight of that thought. It was a legitimate concern. “I don’t know, Mom,” Rei said at last, sounding crestfallen. “But what am I supposed to do?” Ms. Akiyama frowned. Like most mothers, deep down she just wanted her child to be happy. Part of her really wished her child could have her dream, but most of her knew it simply wasn’t meant to be and there was nothing that could change that. Most of her just wanted to help Rei find another way to be happy. Without a word, Ms. Akiyama rose from the table and cleared their plates. Breakfast was clearly over. On her way out of the kitchen, she lightly ruffled Rei’s hair, “Go on,” she said, “enjoy your snow day, okay? But just…think about the extended high school program?” Rei nodded.

Summer Camp Re-Calibration Chapter 1: The Problem and My Brilliant Idea The sight of Ethan glued to his video games, another afternoon dissolving into digital nothingness, twisted my gut. It felt like a direct indictment of my parenting, a glaring crack in the foundation of the confident, resilient son I’d always envisioned. Me, Jack, the guy who wrangled million-dollar deals and made the tough calls before breakfast, suddenly felt utterly useless against a bit of nighttime dampness. It wasn’t just the damn laundry mountain; it was the anxiety clinging to Ethan like cheap cologne, the way he’d practically levitate to avoid sleepover invites, the sheer terror that bloomed on his face at the mere mention of summer camp. Bright kid, Ethan, aced his tests, even remembered to put his dirty socks in the hamper (sometimes), but this nightly… leakage felt like an insurmountable Everest of wet sheets, chipping away at my hard-earned paternal pride. “Maybe we should try therapy again, hon?” Olivia’s voice, all soft edges and concern, would drift through my brooding. She’d approach the topic like defusing a bomb, a stark contrast to my usual slam-dunk approach to problems. I’d nod, listen to her theories about underlying anxieties – all well and good, but felt about as effective as shouting at the rain. I’m a fixer, see? Always have been. Ethan needed a proper solution, something with nuts and bolts. My own Camp Grizzly memories were practically a recruitment poster: sun-drenched glory, cabin camaraderie, conquering that ridiculous climbing wall. That’s where I became Jack, dammit. Except… there were those other memories, lurking like forgotten socks under the bed. The hushed whispers about the “Waterproof Warriors” cabin, the way we’d all subtly avoid eye contact, the faint sting of my own youthful guffaws echoing in my ears. A twinge of guilt, swallowed fast but never truly gone. Surely, I reasoned, a shot of that Grizzly spirit, the great outdoors and forced activities, would toughen Ethan up. I’d survived my awkward phases; Ethan could conquer this. Olivia, bless her empathetic heart, remained the voice of doom and gloom, all worried about Ethan’s “fragile emotional state.” She saw a sensitive kid drowning in anxiety; I saw a plumbing issue needing a good wrench. My more… assertive nature usually won out, and so, despite Ethan’s watery protests and Olivia’s thinly veiled disapproval, the camp brochures sat on the counter, a done deal. Four long weeks of communal sleeping, four weeks of potential humiliation hanging over his head like a thundercloud – the agonizing prospect of his nighttime secret going public was practically a physical presence. Every excuse deployed, every argument exhausted, but I stood firm. “Good for him,” I’d declared, the sound of the gavel in my voice. “Builds character.” Still, a tiny worm of doubt had started nibbling. What if camp was a disaster? What if the teasing I vaguely recalled was still the main event? The image of Ethan, all vulnerable and squishy inside, facing that kind of kid-level cruelty for four solid weeks… it sent a genuine shiver down my spine. Nope. Not on my watch. My boy deserved better. He needed backup, a seasoned pro, someone to navigate that social minefield alongside him. And that’s when the epiphany hit, audacious even for yours truly. Down in my workshop, amidst the glorious clutter of half-finished projects and the soothing hum of nascent genius, sat my baby: the “temporal re-calibration device.” Not a time machine, not exactly. More like a… reset button for your physical form, dialing back the years within the current timeline. And with the “causality stabilizer” engaged – a trivial bit of engineering, really – the younger body would retain all the glorious memories and intellect of the older model. I’d used it for minor tweaks, a fleeting return to my youthful biceps for the high school reunion (worth every watt). But now, a far grander purpose beckoned. I’d dial myself back to a cool 14. A year older than Ethan, but young enough to blend. I’d register at Camp Grizzly as “Ace Corbin,” a self-proclaimed champion of the nightly soak, a dude who needed industrial-strength diapers. This open, almost celebratory acceptance of a far more… significant issue would, I reasoned, make Ethan’s little pull-up situation seem like small potatoes. I’d be there, a human shield against bullies, a social lubricant, a silent promise of “I’ve got your back, kid.” Bold? Borderline insane? Maybe. But fueled by pure, unadulterated paternal instinct and a deep-seated need to fix things? Absolutely. I could do this. I would make Camp Grizzly a win for Ethan, even if it meant rocking a teenage bod and pretending to like whatever the hell “Gen Z” music was. Chapter 2: The Great Regression Logistics, my forte. A vaguely corporate “off-site team-building exercise” itinerary for the office, a last-minute camp registration for “Ace Corbin” smoother than a baby’s… well, you know. And then the tearful goodbye – Ethan’s anxiety practically radiating off him in waves – as he boarded the bus. A final, strangely paternal pat on his shoulder from my soon-to-be-teenaged hand, and then I was peeling away, my trusty sedan pointed towards the glorious chaos of my workshop, a determined glint in my eye. The workshop, usually a symphony of focused energy, now thrummed with anticipation. The temporal re-calibration device, my magnum opus, stood bathed in the soft glow of its own internal lights, a glorious mess of wires and humming conduits. The touchscreen interface winked at me, a cascade of intricate parameters. My fingers danced across the glass, inputting my biosignature with practiced ease, then settling on the target age: fourteen. My adult brain double-checked every setting, my gaze lingering on the reassuring green glow of the engaged “causality stabilizer.” Deep breath in, a final mental handshake with my adult self. I hit the activation button. A low hum filled the room, escalating into a tingling vibration that zipped through my body, followed by a surprisingly pleasant rush of youthful energy. Glancing down, my expertly tailored work slacks were already bagging around my rapidly shrinking frame. Quickly, I wrestled open the pre-packed duffel. Out came the carefully curated wardrobe of a modern teen. Oversized hoodies that looked suspiciously comfortable, athletic shorts in retina-searing colors, graphic tees featuring bands Ethan mumbled about – each item felt both alien and strangely familiar against my shrinking skin. A final check in the full-length mirror on the workshop door revealed the truly bizarre sight. The reflection staring back was undeniably me, but… younger. The stress lines around my eyes had vanished, the subtle softening of my jawline now sharp and defined. This was me at fourteen, the boundless energy I vaguely remembered now thrumming beneath my skin. Not bad, not bad at all. With a renewed sense of purpose, I finished stuffing the bag. Nestled amongst the trendy threads were the linchpins of my master plan: a truly heroic supply of the thickest, most absorbent adult diapers money could buy online, the kind advertised with cartoon characters and promises of overnight dryness (ironic, given my intended use). They felt strangely substantial in my suddenly smaller hands, a tangible symbol of the role I was about to play. Slinging the duffel over my newly slender shoulder, the weight was… surprisingly reassuring. “Ace Corbin” was locked, loaded, and ready for Camp Grizzly. Chapter 3: Ace Arrives and Makes a Splash (Literally?) The “Waterwell Wonders” cabin – a name that sounded suspiciously like a euphemism – was a cacophony of adolescent angst and forced enthusiasm, a sensory assault that did nothing for Ethan’s already frayed nerves. He’d retreated to the dubious sanctuary of his upper bunk, a dog-eared fantasy novel clutched like a life raft against the swirling tide of unfamiliar faces and booming voices. Then I strolled in, radiating an almost comical level of false confidence. Easy swagger, oversized duffel slung just so, a grin plastered on my face that could curdle milk. There was a flicker of something in Ethan’s eyes, a momentary spark of recognition that almost blew my cover, a fleeting echo of… someone familiar, but the sheer teenage-ness of my current vibe clearly threw him off the scent. “Yo, what up, future cabin-mates!” I announced, my voice cracking slightly on the “up” – puberty, what a joy. “Looks like we’re the elite nocturnal moisture management team of this fine establishment! Name’s… uh… Ace Corbin.” I lowered my voice conspiratorially, though still loud enough for the whole damn cabin to hear. “And yeah, well, the rumors are true. I’m a heavy sleeper… and a heavy wetter. Like, world-record heavy. So, you know, solidarity, right?” With a dramatic flourish that would have made my high school drama teacher proud, I produced a truly enormous, cartoonishly thick diaper from my bag, holding it aloft like the Stanley Cup. A wave of nervous laughter rippled through the cabin, Ethan included, a tiny sliver of the tension around his shoulders easing. Score one for Team Dad. My expertly trained paternal gaze locked onto Ethan. I sauntered over to his bunk, my smile morphing into something I hoped looked like cool cousinly concern. “Hey there, man. You must be Ethan, right? I’m, uh… your distant cousin. Ace. Heard you were slumming it at this… adventure, and figured I’d join the party. Keep the family flag flying, you know?” Smooth, Corbin, smooth. Ethan stared, that flicker of recognition intensifying. The voice, the eyes… the resemblance to his old man was almost uncanny, yet somehow… off. Younger, looser, almost… dare I say… cool? The “distant cousin” story felt flimsy enough to see through, but the open, almost celebratory admission of the bedwetting thing clearly threw him for a loop. This “Ace” wasn’t shrinking in shame; he was owning it like a boss (a very damp boss). “Hi,” Ethan mumbled, his voice still tight with apprehension. “I’m an… occasional wetter. I just have pull-ups.” He gestured self-consciously to the discreet package on his bedside table. Small potatoes, kid, small potatoes. I nodded sagely, my grin unwavering. “Cool, man. Low-impact. We all start somewhere, right? Think of this cabin as a super-secret club. Only the… leakier members get exclusive access.” I punctuated the statement with a wink that hopefully conveyed cool cousinly understanding, and a genuine, if slightly bewildered, smile finally cracked through Ethan’s anxiety. Over the next two weeks, “Ace” became the cabin’s unexpected mascot. My self-deprecating humor about my “industrial-strength leaks” created an atmosphere of surprising tolerance. Any potential teasing directed at Ethan was effortlessly absorbed by my far more… significant… “condition.” I became the deflector shield of dampness. Organized games, told surprisingly engaging (if slightly embellished) stories, subtly made sure Ethan was always included, never isolated. I even had the other boys chuckling about their own minor nighttime mishaps, creating a bizarrely supportive, almost soggy, little ecosystem. Each night, the lights would dim, the sounds of rustling sleeping bags would fill the air, and “Ace” would ostentatiously chug a massive water bottle before hitting his bunk. Hidden beneath my pillow, my phone vibrated silently at random intervals – 1 AM one night, 3:30 AM the next. I’d wake up groggily each time, a pleasant warmth spreading… well, you know. I’d stay quiet, the subtle discomfort strangely becoming a familiar part of the night. Then I’d drift right back to sleep, the dampness a silent testament to my commitment. By morning, the truly epic saturation of my diaper was undeniable “proof” of my heavy-wetter status, a damp beacon of reassurance for Ethan and the others. But as Ethan’s confidence blossomed under my damp wing, a subtle undercurrent of something… else… began to brew within him. He admired “Ace’s” effortless charm, his seemingly carefree acceptance of the very thing that had haunted Ethan’s nights for years. It wasn’t entirely fair, was it? “Ace” got to be the cool, well-liked, albeit damp, guy, while Ethan had carried this secret shame like a lead weight. Teenage logic, I guess. Chapter 4: The Unraveling Back home, the silence of the house hummed with an unsettling emptiness. Olivia probably missed my… insightful commentary. Down in the basement, the temporal re-calibration device stood silent. Olivia had looked at the control panel, the cryptic settings a mystery. Her finger had hovered over the “Causality Stabilizer” option, the indicator light a steady green. “Causality Stabilizer,” she’d murmured, tilting her head. Sounded… limiting. With a decisive tap, the green light extinguished. A faint sense of… something… shifted in the room. Satisfied with her adjustment, Olivia had returned upstairs, none the wiser. Miles away, under the deceptive tranquility of a late summer night at Camp Grizzly, the delicate, diaper-clad ecosystem I’d so carefully constructed began to wobble. The two-week mark loomed, and a subtle temporal instability seemed to be in the air. In my bunk, my fourteen-year-old body stirred restlessly, an unseen tremor rippling through me. Something felt… off. Like I was catching a bad radio signal. Chapter 5: A Blinding Flash into a Damp, Baffling Reality SNAP! One moment, I was drifting off in my bunk in Cabin Eagle at Camp Grizzly. I’d only been here for a few days, still a bit nervous but starting to make friends. The next, a blinding flash ripped through my eyelids, and a jolt slammed through my body like hitting ice water. My head spun, and a wave of nausea washed over me. Where… where was I? This wasn’t Cabin Eagle. The air smelled damp and a little… weird, and the shapes of the other bunks in the dim light were unfamiliar. Fear, sharp and sudden, clawed at my throat. I looked down at my pajamas – not mine. And then the wetness. A cold, heavy, utterly disgusting feeling between my legs. What the hell? My heart hammered against my ribs. Had I… had I wet myself? But I hadn’t done that since I was a little kid! This was… a lot. And… what was this bulky thing I was wearing? It felt… strange. Like a thick pad. A voice, older and unfamiliar, drifted down from above. “Hey… ‘Ace’? You okay? You’re… kinda making squelching noises.” ‘Ace’? That wasn’t my name. My name was Jack. Where was Garrett? Where was Mr. Henderson, our counselor? This was the wrong cabin. The wrong voice. Everything felt wrong, terrifyingly wrong. And… was I wearing a diaper? A huge, ridiculous diaper? I tried to speak, but my throat felt like sandpaper. “Wh… where am I? This isn’t my cabin. How long have I been here?” My voice was weak, barely a whisper. “Dude, it’s Ethan. What are you talking about? We’re in the ‘Waterwell Wonders’ cabin. You know… at Camp Grizzly? It’s… been about two weeks, ‘Ace.’” Ethan’s voice held a strange mix of amusement and something else… pity? Ethan? I didn’t know any Ethan. Waterwell Wonders? That sounded like a joke cabin. This was all wrong, a horrible, disorienting nightmare. And… I was wearing a diaper? This couldn’t be happening. “Whoa, ‘Ace,’ you really soaked that one, huh? Guess you are the ‘super soaker’ after all!” The unfamiliar voice, this “Ethan,” held a cruel edge that made my stomach clench. Other shadowy figures stirred in the darkness, their stifled laughter like sharp stones thrown in my direction. That evening, before lights out, Ethan tossed me a fresh diaper. “Here, ‘Ace.’ Don’t want any midnight surprises… though they seem to happen anyway.” He watched with a detached amusement as I fumbled with the unfamiliar straps and sticky tabs, utterly clueless. He sighed and, with a strange mixture of mockery and efficiency, showed me how to put it on. As I drifted to sleep, a short buzz and a flash of warmth flickered at the edge of my awareness, feeling like a strange, recurring dream. The humiliation burned. The next two weeks in this bizarre, damp reality were a living hell. Every morning, I woke up wet, the shame a heavy weight in my chest. And every morning, I’d pull off the sodden diaper, desperate to be rid of the evidence of my nighttime humiliation. Ethan would just smirk and hand me a fresh one each evening. The short buzzing and the following warmth became a nightly occurrence, a strange, inexplicable constant. The other boys, these strangers, called me “Ace” and whispered behind my back. This “Ethan” seemed to take a strange pleasure in my humiliation, yet he was also the one facilitating this bizarre, degrading ritual. I didn’t understand any of it. I just longed to go back to my real cabin, my real friends, the time before this nightmare started, before the strange nighttime buzzing and warmth. On the final night of this camp session, a desperate hope flickered within me that I would wake up back in my own bed, and this bizarre, soggy nightmare would be over. Miles away… the lights went out. Chapter 6: The Damp Dawn of a Rewritten Life I woke with a jolt, a deep sense of unease clinging to me like a damp shroud. My own bed, the familiar floral wallpaper a stark contrast to the hazy, unpleasant remnants of a disturbing dream. Olivia stirred beside me, her breathing soft and even. But something felt profoundly wrong. A heavy, sticky discomfort emanated from my lower body, a sensation both alien and vaguely familiar. Pushing back the covers, I glanced down, my breath catching in my throat. Encasing my hips was a thick, undeniably wet adult diaper. A wave of pure, unadulterated shock slammed into me. What in God’s name? I scrambled back, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. Olivia’s eyes fluttered open, her expression calm, and accepting. Before I could stammer out a question, a torrent of fragmented, unsettling memories flooded my consciousness. Camp Grizzly. Being fourteen. Waking up wet for the first time. The bewildered, slightly disgusted faces of the other boys. Then, a relentless, insidious pattern of nighttime accidents that had apparently never stopped. The scratchy, ineffective camp diapers I'd been stuck with for nearly four weeks. The shame. It was like a hidden chapter of my adolescence, brutally unearthed. And somehow… it had always been this way, these bulky, embarrassing things a constant, shameful secret. “Morning, hon,” Olivia said, her voice carrying a quiet strength, a subtle air of… competence that made a knot tighten in my stomach. There was no surprise in her eyes, no confusion. Only a gentle, practiced understanding. “You had a rough night.” Rough night? This was… this was a nightmare. “Olivia… what… what is this?” I gestured weakly to the sodden diaper. Her hand reached out, not in alarm, but in a comforting, almost maternal gesture. “It’s alright, Jack. Just a little accident. It happens.” Her tone was soothing, matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather. A strange role reversal seemed to have occurred. The decisive, take-charge man I thought I was felt utterly lost, adrift in a sea of damp indignity, while Olivia exuded a quiet, unwavering authority. “I’ll get you cleaned up,” she continued, her voice brooking no argument. “I will call your boss. You’re working from home today.” Not a suggestion, but a statement of fact. My usual protests died in my throat. A strange sense of resignation settled over me. As Olivia efficiently and without a hint of distaste helped me change, the fragmented memories solidified, weaving a new, unwelcome narrative of my past. The confident, dry adolescent I vaguely recalled from before my fourteenth year now felt like a fleeting fantasy, replaced by a shame-ridden bedwetter, navigating teenage years with a secret burden of damp sheets and hushed anxieties. The carefree memories of my twenties and thirties now felt subtly tainted, shadowed by an underlying fear of exposure, a constant vigilance against potential embarrassment. I had a faint, confusing echo of a short time, maybe two weeks, where I was called "Ace" and the diapers were better, but that was just a strange, fleeting dream amidst the much longer, humiliating reality of being just Jack at camp, constantly wet. Later that morning, the memory of my workshop surfaced, a fleeting image of wires and half-finished projects. A daring, idiotic plan to rewrite the past. It felt like a dream now, a bizarre fantasy disconnected from this soggy reality. The temporal re-calibration device, my grand solution, was gone, lost in the rewritten fabric of my existence. There would be no triumphant return to a dry past, no chance to undo this deeply ingrained, humiliating truth. Looking at Olivia, at the quiet strength in her eyes, I saw a new dynamic in our relationship. The balance had shifted, subtly but irrevocably. She was no longer just my supportive wife; she was also my patient caretaker, navigating this lifelong secret with a grace I hadn’t known she possessed. A sigh escaped my lips, heavy with resignation. The fight had gone out of me. The confident fixer I once was had been replaced by someone… else. Someone defined by this persistent dampness, by this lifelong secret now brought into the harsh light of day. There was no time machine to be found, no reset button for this rewritten life. All that remained was the damp reality of the present and the quiet acceptance of a past I no longer recognized as my own. This was my life now. And somehow, I would have to learn to live it, one soggy morning at a time. The End

Leap through time to a better self Chapter 1 The shimmering subsided, leaving Dr. Alistair Finch, a pioneer of temporal displacement, blinking in the dim light. Except… the light seemed awfully low. And the air smelled faintly of lavender and… baby powder? He tried to stand, but his limbs felt… stubby. He looked down. Dimpled hands, pudgy legs encased in dinosaur-print overalls, and a distinct lack of the tweed jacket he’d been wearing moments before. Panic clawed at his throat. This wasn’t the Cretaceous period. This wasn't even the Victorian era he’d cautiously targeted for his first full immersion. He was small. Terribly, unbelievably small. A high-pitched, singsong voice chirped from somewhere above. "Are we all done, sweetie?" Alistair craned his neck, his adult mind struggling to process the giant looming over him. A woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. His… mother? He tried to speak, to explain the paradox, the accidental recalibration of the temporal drive, the sheer impossibility of his current predicament. But all that came out was a wet, gurgling sound. His mother chuckled. "Almost! Just a little push." Push? Push what? Then he remembered. The faint scent of disinfectant. The miniature porcelain throne. The brightly colored picture book of a smiling sun. Potty training. A wave of mortification, so intense it felt physical, washed over his three-year-old self. Dr. Alistair Finch, who had bent the very fabric of spacetime to his will, was now facing the insurmountable challenge of… peeing in a tiny bowl. His bladder, however, had no respect for scientific achievement. A familiar pressure built, and despite his frantic mental commands – contract the sphincter, initiate voluntary urination, for God's sake, I’ve solved quantum entanglement! – nothing happened. His mother sighed gently. "It's okay, love. Sometimes it takes a while." She offered him the picture book. Alistair stared at the grinning sun, his adult brain screaming in silent frustration. He knew the principles of fluid dynamics, the neurological pathways involved in bladder control, the entire evolutionary history of waste elimination in vertebrates. Yet, his current corporeal form seemed to have missed the memo. Minutes stretched into an eternity of awkward silence and mounting pressure. He tried everything he could remember observing other toddlers doing – straining, grunting, even a little wiggle. Nothing. Finally, his mother, her patience unwavering, said, "Let's try again later, shall we?" She lifted him, and the sudden movement triggered a small, pathetic trickle. It barely made a splash. His mother smiled encouragingly. "That's okay! Every little bit counts." Alistair, the man who had debated theoretical physics with the brightest minds on the planet, felt a tear well up in his eye. Not from the physical discomfort, but from the sheer, unadulterated humiliation. He, Alistair Finch, was failing at the most basic of human functions. As his mother cleaned him up, humming a gentle lullaby, Alistair stared at his tiny, clumsy hands. He had conquered time, but he was utterly defeated by a potty. This, he realized with a profound sense of irony, was a paradox he hadn't anticipated in his grand theories. And somehow, amidst the shame and the bewilderment, a tiny, reluctant giggle escaped his three-year-old lips. Perhaps, just perhaps, this unexpected detour through his past held a lesson even temporal mechanics couldn't teach. Chapter 2 The soft padding of the diaper was a final, humiliating confirmation of his utter failure. His mother’s gentle pat on his bottom as she fastened the tabs felt like a brand of shame. Dr. Alistair Finch, reduced to this. Then, the familiar shimmering began again, a subtle vibration that tickled his ridiculously small toes. One moment he was enveloped in the comforting scent of baby powder, the next he was standing in his lab, the temporal displacement unit humming quietly around him. He blinked, disoriented. The metallic tang of ozone filled the air. His lab coat felt strangely loose. He glanced down. His heart plummeted. Beneath the oversized lab coat, clinging uncomfortably to his adult frame, were the dinosaur-print overalls. And beneath those… the unmistakable bulk and crinkle of a freshly applied diaper. A strangled gasp escaped his lips. He fumbled at the front of his trousers, his adult fingers clumsy with the unfamiliar fastenings. Yes. Undeniably. He was wearing a diaper. The temporal field, in its infinite and infuriating wisdom, had not only sent his consciousness back but had somehow… imprinted the consequences of that regression onto his present physical form. A wave of nausea washed over him. He, a man who had lectured at CERN, who had dined with royalty, was now standing in his state-of-the-art laboratory wearing a soiled nappy. The irony was so thick it felt like a physical weight in his gut. He ripped off the lab coat, staring at the offending garment with a mixture of horror and disbelief. The dinosaur print seemed to mock him. He tugged at the diaper tabs, the sticky fastenings protesting with a soft rip. As he finally managed to peel the damp, slightly warm diaper away, a faint, lingering scent of lavender wafted up. He shuddered. The experience, however brief, had left a tangible, and deeply embarrassing, mark. He frantically searched for spare clothes, his mind racing. What if someone came in? Dr. Albright from astrophysics? Or his research assistant, Max, with her perpetually raised eyebrow? The thought sent a fresh wave of mortification through him. He found a pair of emergency trousers in his locker, hastily pulling them on, the lingering sensation of the diaper a phantom weight against his skin. He stuffed the offending garment into the deepest, most secure biohazard bin he could find, as if trying to erase the last few surreal minutes from existence. He sank into his chair, his breathing ragged. The implications of this bizarre temporal feedback loop were staggering. Had his consciousness somehow become entangled with his past self in a more profound way than he’d ever imagined? Could the past truly leave such a literal mark on the present? He looked at the complex equations scrawled across his whiteboard, the elegant theories that had earned him international acclaim. They suddenly seemed fragile, almost comical, in the face of his current predicament. He had unlocked the secrets of time, but he couldn't even manage basic bodily functions as a toddler, and now, the evidence was right there – or rather, had been right there – clinging to his adult form. A humorless chuckle escaped him. Perhaps his next research paper wouldn't be on the intricacies of spacetime, but on the unexpected and deeply humiliating consequences of temporal regression on one's personal hygiene. He just hoped, for the sake of his reputation, that this particular experiment would remain strictly confidential. The Nobel committee might have questions about the dinosaur-print undergarments. Chapter 3 The evening had brought a semblance of normalcy, or as normal as it could be for a time-traveling scientist who had recently soiled himself in a past life. Alistair had meticulously cleaned his lab, double-checked the temporal displacement unit, and even managed to eat a rather bland microwave dinner, his appetite still slightly suppressed by the day’s bizarre events. He was reviewing his calculations, trying to pinpoint the anomaly that had caused the unexpected feedback loop, when the familiar dizzying sensation returned. This time, it wasn't a shimmer, but more of a gentle tug, like an invisible current pulling him away. He braced himself, expecting another undignified return to toddlerhood. But when the sensation subsided, the world around him was different. The scale was still smaller than his adult perspective, but not as drastically as before. He was standing in a dimly lit bedroom, the air thick with the comforting, slightly dusty smell of old books and well-loved toys. He looked down at himself. He was wearing Thomas the Tank Engine pajamas. He felt… older. More coordinated. He tentatively wiggled his fingers, the movements more precise than the stubby digits of his three-year-old self. A soft glow emanated from the hallway, and he heard the muffled sound of adult voices. He recognized the cadence, the gentle lilt. His parents. He padded silently to the bedroom door, his bare feet making no sound on the worn wooden floor. Peeking out, he saw his mother and father in the living room, their faces illuminated by the warm light of a table lamp. They looked younger, a few less lines around their eyes, a touch more vibrancy in their hair. He was four. He knew this instinctively. He remembered this room, the Thomas pajamas, the way the floorboards creaked outside his door. He even remembered the faint anxiety that always bubbled in his chest at this time of night. He was potty-trained. He could recall the triumphant day his mother had declared him “big boy” and the subsequent discarding of diapers during the day. But… a familiar, unwelcome feeling stirred within him. A dampness against his skin. He reached down tentatively. The front of his pajamas felt… wet. A small, warm patch had spread across the fabric. A wave of weary resignation washed over him. Of course. Just when he thought he had escaped the indignities of early childhood, a new, equally embarrassing challenge presented itself. Bedwetting. A secret shame he had carried until he’d finally outgrown it sometime around the age of six. He remembered the hushed whispers between his parents, the extra sheets discreetly placed at the foot of his bed, the gentle reassurances that it was “perfectly normal.” He had hated the feeling, the cold dampness against his skin, the fear of being discovered, of being different. Now, he was reliving it. As a grown man trapped in his four-year-old body. The irony was almost comical, if it wasn't so utterly mortifying. He had faced down temporal paradoxes, wrestled with the fundamental laws of the universe, and yet, here he was, defeated by his own bladder during the night. He shuffled back into the bedroom, the dampness feeling cold against his skin. He knew the drill. He had lived through this. He would have to change his pajamas, try to clean the sheets as best he could, and pray that his parents wouldn't notice until morning. As he fumbled with the buttons of his wet pajamas, a small, unexpected thought flickered through his adult mind. This wasn't just about embarrassment. This was a chance. A chance to experience his past, not as a detached observer, but as his younger self. To perhaps understand the anxieties and insecurities he had long forgotten. He pulled on a fresh pair of pajamas, the soft cotton a small comfort against the lingering dampness of the sheets. He wouldn't be able to fully clean them, not without raising suspicion. He would just have to hope for the best. Climbing back into the small bed, the familiar scent of his childhood filling his nostrils, Alistair felt a strange mix of frustration and a dawning sense of something else. Empathy. He remembered the shame he had felt as a child, the feeling of being out of control. Now, experiencing it again, even with the full weight of his adult intellect, gave him a new perspective. Perhaps, he mused, his journey through time wasn't just about scientific discovery. Maybe it was also about rediscovering himself, flaws and all, from the very beginning. Even if that beginning involved a distinct lack of bladder control. As he drifted off to sleep, the faint dampness a persistent reminder of his current predicament, Alistair couldn't help but wonder what other forgotten indignities his younger selves had in store for him. Chapter 4 The return to his own time was less jarring this time, a smoother transition from the soft, Thomas-themed sheets to the crisp, high-thread-count cotton of his own bed. He blinked, the familiar contours of his modern bedroom coming into focus. The digital clock on his nightstand glowed with the time: 7:12 AM. Saturday. He stretched, a lingering stiffness in his limbs that felt vaguely… childish. Then, a cold, unwelcome sensation seeped through the fabric of his pajamas. His eyes snapped open. He sat bolt upright, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. He reached down, his adult fingers tracing the unmistakable damp patch spreading across his pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet beneath him. A groan escaped his lips, a sound of utter defeat. Not again. He threw back the covers, the cool morning air doing little to dispel the clammy feeling. There it was, undeniable evidence of his four-year-old bladder’s nocturnal rebellion, transferred somehow, impossibly, to his adult body in his own time. He stared at the wet patch, a mixture of disbelief and profound embarrassment washing over him. This was beyond ridiculous. This was bordering on some kind of cosmic joke at his expense. He, Dr. Alistair Finch, the man who had manipulated the very flow of time, was apparently incapable of maintaining bladder control after a brief sojourn into his past. He scrambled out of bed, stripping off the damp pajamas as if they were contaminated. He held them at arm’s length, the faint, lingering scent of… well, nothing distinctly childish this time, just the unmistakable odor of urine, assaulting his nostrils. He looked at his bed, the circular wet stain a stark reminder of his temporal misadventure. He had successfully navigated the complexities of spacetime, but he couldn't even make it through the night dry after reliving a childhood phase he thought he had long outgrown. The implications were staggering, and frankly, deeply unsettling. Was his consciousness somehow more tethered to his past selves than he had ever imagined? Were these regressions leaving some kind of physiological imprint on his present? He marched into the bathroom, tossing the offending pajamas into the laundry hamper with a frustrated sigh. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked the same – the slightly rumpled hair, the tired lines around his eyes from a late night of theoretical physics, the faint shadow of his beard. But he knew. He knew he had woken up in his own bed, in his own time, having wet it like a child. He turned on the shower, the hot water a welcome distraction from the bizarre reality of his situation. As he stood under the steaming spray, he couldn't help but run through the events of the past few temporal jumps. The abject failure of potty training at three, the lingering shame of bedwetting at four… what fresh indignity awaited him if he dared to jump back further? Teething? The sheer terror of being left alone in his crib? He scrubbed himself vigorously, as if trying to wash away the lingering effects of his journey. But he knew it wasn't just about physical cleanliness. This was about something deeper, something he didn't understand. His past wasn't just a series of memories; it seemed to have a tangible, albeit deeply embarrassing, connection to his present. Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stared at his reflection again. The pioneer of temporal displacement. And apparently, a bedwetter. The irony was still sharp, but now, tinged with a growing sense of unease. He needed to understand what was happening, before his forays into the past turned him into a permanent, time-displaced toddler in an adult’s body. And he definitely needed to invest in some waterproof mattress protectors. Just in case. Chapter 5 The middle of the day dissolved into a familiar, disorienting swirl of colors and sensations. One moment, Alistair was meticulously reviewing the data logs from his latest (and increasingly alarming) temporal excursions, the next, the air around him smelled of department store perfume and the faint, underlying scent of… new fabric? He blinked, his adult eyes struggling to adjust to the brightly lit environment. He was smaller again, though not as drastically as before. His clothes felt loose, and he could see the tops of clothing racks towering above him. He looked down. He was wearing a bright blue t-shirt with a cartoon dog on it and slightly too-big sneakers. He recognized the scene instantly. The bustling aisles, the soft music playing overhead, the towering displays of household goods. He was in the department store his mother used to frequent. And the way she was standing beside him, examining a display of colorful children's clothing, confirmed his age. He was five. "Look at this one, sweetie," his mother said, holding up a small, patterned shirt. Her voice was younger, lighter than he remembered. He nodded, a strange sense of déjà vu washing over him. He remembered this shopping trip, the boredom of trailing after his mother as she browsed. But something felt… different. A subtle shift in the air, a path diverging from his established memories. His mother moved on, her attention caught by a new display near the back of the aisle. He followed, his smaller legs struggling to keep pace. She stopped in front of a section he didn't immediately recognize. It was filled with packages of what looked like… diapers. But the packaging was different, brighter, with cartoon characters he didn't recall. "Oh, look at these!" his mother exclaimed, picking up a package. "A new company. They're specifically for bedwetting kids. They say they're extra absorbent and more comfortable." She turned to him, holding up the colorful pack. "You know, honey, your bed has been a little wet lately. Do you think we should try these? Maybe they'll help you stay dry at night." Alistair froze. This was it. He remembered this conversation. Vividly. In his original timeline, he had been mortified. The idea of still needing diapers at five, even just for nighttime, had felt like a personal failure. He had stubbornly refused, insisting he would "try harder" to stay dry. A promise he hadn't always kept. He looked at the package his mother was holding. Cartoon astronauts floated across a starry blue background. Extra absorbent. More comfortable. A wave of conflicting emotions washed over his adult mind. The ingrained childhood shame was still there, a faint echo. But now, overlaid on it, was the knowledge of what was to come – more wet sheets, more hushed apologies, more secret embarrassment. He thought of the lingering dampness in his own bed just this morning. The undeniable link between his past and present. A strange impulse, a desire to alter the chain of events, took hold. He looked up at his mother, her kind eyes filled with concern. He thought of the small, vulnerable boy he had been, struggling with something he couldn't fully control. Taking a deep breath, a decision formed in his adult mind, filtered through the innocent voice of his five-year-old self. "Yes, Mommy," he said, his voice surprisingly steady. "Let's try them." His mother's face lit up with a relieved smile. "Oh, good, sweetie! I thought they looked like they might be better." She placed the package in their shopping cart. As they continued their shopping, Alistair felt a subtle shift within him. It was a small thing, a seemingly insignificant decision made by a five-year-old. But he knew, with a certainty that transcended his current age, that he had just altered his own history. What the long-term consequences would be, he couldn't say. But in this moment, standing in the brightly lit aisle of a department store, he felt a flicker of something akin to… hope. Maybe, just maybe, navigating his past wouldn't just be a series of embarrassing mishaps. Perhaps it could also be a chance to heal old wounds, one small, diaper-related decision at a time. Chapter 6 The rest of the shopping trip felt different. A lightness had settled over his mother, a subtle easing of the worry lines around her eyes. She chatted more, her hand resting occasionally on his shoulder as they moved through the aisles. Alistair, in his five-year-old guise, found himself strangely content. The anxieties of his adult life were momentarily suspended, replaced by the simple pleasure of his mother's attention. As they walked to the car, his mother squeezed his hand. "You were such a good helper today, sweetie," she said, her voice warm. "And I'm so glad you're willing to try those new nighttime pants. I really think they'll make things better." Then, to his surprise, she steered him towards a small toy store nestled beside the supermarket. "And because you were so brave about the nighttime pants," she added with a wink, "you can pick out one small toy." His five-year-old self would have been ecstatic. His adult mind felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. He scanned the shelves, the brightly colored plastic and plush figures a stark contrast to the complex machinery in his lab. He settled on a small, diecast airplane, a replica of a Concorde. Even then, it seemed, his fascination with engineering and pushing boundaries had been present. The drive home was filled with his excited chatter about the airplane and his mother's gentle reassurances about the new nighttime diapers. He even felt a flicker of genuine hope, a childish belief that these magical new undergarments would indeed solve his nighttime woes. Later that evening, after a bath and a story, his mother retrieved the package of astronaut-themed diapers. This was the moment he had both anticipated and slightly dreaded. In his original timeline, this ritual of nighttime preparation had been a source of quiet anxiety, a constant reminder of his perceived inadequacy. His mother laid out one of the diapers on the bed. It looked… substantial. Far bulkier and larger than the daytime training pants he occasionally still wore. The padding was thick, and the plastic outer layer crinkled loudly as she unfolded it. Alistair, despite his adult intellect, felt a surge of childish self-consciousness. This wasn't the thin, almost discreet nighttime pull-ups he vaguely remembered from later years. This was a proper diaper, albeit one with cheerful astronauts on it. His mother smiled reassuringly. "Okay, let's lie down, sweetie. It'll be easier this way." She gently guided him onto his back, the soft mattress yielding beneath his small frame. The diaper, fully unfolded, was laid beneath him, the back reaching almost to his shoulder blades. The front panel was then pulled up between his legs. Alistair felt a strange sense of vulnerability lying there, his small limbs exposed. This was how his mother had diapered him as a baby, a memory he had long since forgotten. Now, as a grown man trapped in a five-year-old’s body, he was reliving the experience. His mother worked efficiently, pulling the front panel of the diaper up and securing the wide, sturdy tapes on either side. The bulk of the diaper felt strangely constricting, but also oddly secure. As his mother fastened the tapes, pulling them snug but not too tight, Alistair couldn't help but notice the sheer volume of the diaper. It felt… restrictive. He wiggled slightly, the thick padding shifting beneath him. "There we go!" his mother said, patting his diapered tummy gently. "Nice and dry for the whole night." She pulled his pajamas up, the fabric bunching slightly around the substantial diaper. She tucked him into bed, the bulk of the diaper making him feel strangely cocooned. Lying in the dim light of his nightlight, Alistair couldn't shake the feeling of the bulky diaper beneath his pajamas. It was a tangible reminder of his regression, a physical manifestation of a childhood challenge he thought he had left behind. The feeling of being laid down to be diapered, like an infant, added a layer of vulnerability he hadn't anticipated. His adult mind, however, couldn't help but analyze the design. The absorbent core did feel thick, and the leg gathers seemed secure. Perhaps these newfangled diapers were indeed more effective than the ones from his original childhood. As sleep began to tug at his consciousness, a strange sense of peace settled over him. He had made a different choice this time. He had accepted the help his younger self had stubbornly refused. And even though the bulky diaper felt a little odd, and the act of being laid down to be diapered felt even more so, there was a certain comfort in knowing that, for tonight at least, the worry of a wet bed was lessened. He drifted off to sleep, the image of smiling astronaut diapers a surreal counterpoint to the complex equations that usually filled his dreams. Chapter 7 Alistair’s eyes fluttered open, the soft morning light filtering through his bedroom window. He stretched, a deep, satisfying extension of his adult limbs. The fragmented memories of the past few days – the tiny potty, the dinosaur overalls, the bulky astronaut diapers – felt hazy, almost dreamlike. He lay there for a moment longer, a sense of profound relief washing over him. It had all been a vivid, bizarre dream. A manifestation of the stress of his temporal experiments, perhaps. He chuckled softly to himself. Imagining himself, struggling with potty training. The absurdity of it was almost funny now that he was awake and back to normal. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the familiar weight of his pajama bottoms settling around his ankles. He stood up, a sense of lightness in his step. The bed was dry. Thank heavens. The thought of actually wetting his adult bed, even in a dream-induced state, had been vaguely unsettling. But then, a strange, uncomfortable sensation registered. A bulky, slightly damp feeling between his legs. He frowned, reaching down beneath his pajamas. His fingers encountered a thick, padded material. Not the soft cotton of his usual sleepwear. Panic flared in his chest. He pulled down his pajama bottoms, his breath catching in his throat at the sight that greeted him. He was wearing a diaper. A real, honest-to-goodness adult diaper. Stark white, thick with absorbent padding, and undeniably wet. A heavy, sodden weight clung to him. His gaze darted around the room, a desperate search for an explanation. And then he saw it. Leaning against his nightstand, a full, unopened pack of white adult diapers. The brand name was unfamiliar. A wave of nausea and disbelief crashed over him. This wasn't a dream. The humiliation, the bizarre regressions, the altered timeline – it had all been real. And somehow, the consequences had followed him back to his own time, amplified and twisted in a way he couldn't have possibly predicted. He stared at the wet diaper clinging to him, the stark white a glaring testament to his utterly compromised state. The relief he had felt moments ago evaporated, replaced by a crushing wave of mortification. He, Dr. Alistair Finch, was standing in his own bedroom, in his own time, wearing a soaked adult diaper. The altered decision at the department store, the acceptance of the nighttime diapers at five – it had created a ripple effect, a bizarre temporal echo that had manifested in this utterly humiliating way. Had his subconscious, influenced by that altered past, somehow… prepared for a return to a state of incontinence? Had his body, remembering the bulky comfort of the astronaut diapers, somehow… regressed? He didn't know. All he knew was the cold, damp feeling against his skin and the undeniable reality of the adult diaper he was wearing. He looked at the unopened pack, a fresh wave of despair washing over him. This wasn't just a one-time thing. This was a full supply. He sank back onto the edge of his dry bed, the absurdity of the situation threatening to overwhelm him. He had bent the laws of physics, but he was utterly defeated by his own bladder and the unpredictable nature of time. What in God's name was he going to do now? Explain to his colleagues that his groundbreaking temporal research had somehow resulted in adult-onset incontinence? The weight of the wet diaper felt heavier than any paradox he had ever contemplated. He was a scientist who had peered into the very fabric of time, and yet, he was utterly unprepared for the soggy, white reality clinging to his backside. The Nobel Prize suddenly felt very, very far away. Chapter 8 The sight of the diaper pail in his bathroom was the final, damning piece of evidence. A pristine white plastic bin, incongruously placed next to his modern, minimalist toilet, and emitting a faint, telltale odor. He cautiously lifted the lid. Inside, nestled amongst a few crumpled tissues, were several more wet adult diapers, identical to the one he was currently wearing. Alistair stared into the pail, his mind reeling. This wasn't a one-off. This was… a pattern. A new, deeply unwelcome reality. With a sigh of utter resignation, he peeled off the sodden diaper, the cool air a stark contrast to the damp warmth it had provided. His movements were automatic, efficient. He reached for a fresh wipe, his hand knowing exactly where to find it in the drawer without conscious thought. The cleaning process was swift, practiced. Muscle memory. And that’s when it hit him. The cold, hard realization slammed into his consciousness with the force of a physical blow. The diapers. The comfortable, absorbent diapers his five-year-old self had readily agreed to. They hadn’t just been a temporary measure in his past. They had fundamentally altered his developmental trajectory. In his original timeline, he remembered the slow, gradual process of overcoming bedwetting. The nights he’d woken up feeling the uncomfortable dampness, the groggy trips to the bathroom, the quiet shame that had motivated him to try harder to stay dry. He had learned to recognize the signals his body was sending, to wake up before it was too late. It had been a process driven by discomfort and a growing desire for independence. But now… with the introduction of those super-absorbent, comfortable astronaut diapers at age five, that natural learning process had been interrupted. His body had never needed to wake up. The diaper had taken care of everything, efficiently and without discomfort. There had been no negative reinforcement, no physical cue to trigger a change in his sleep patterns. He had essentially short-circuited his own development. By agreeing to the diapers in his altered past, he had inadvertently created a future where his body never learned to regulate itself at night. The comfort and convenience he had unknowingly chosen as a child had led to this embarrassing and inconvenient reality as an adult. He looked at the fresh diaper in his hand, the stark white a symbol of his unintended self-sabotage. The irony was gut-wrenching. He had manipulated time to understand the universe better, and in doing so, had managed to regress his own bodily functions. He fastened the clean diaper with a heavy heart, the soft padding now feeling more like a symbol of his failure than a source of comfort. He was a time traveler, a brilliant scientist, and he was wearing an adult diaper because his five-year-old self had opted for a more comfortable night's sleep. The implications were staggering. How could he possibly reverse this? Could he risk another jump back, potentially creating even more unforeseen consequences? He looked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, the image of a bewildered, diapered scientist staring back. He had solved complex equations that spanned galaxies, but he was utterly stumped by the simple, yet profoundly personal, problem of his own bedwetting. The comfortable, absorbent diapers had inadvertently rewritten his own biological programming. And now, he was living with the soggy, white consequences. Chapter 9 Alistair paused, his trousers halfway up his legs, the fabric snagging slightly on the bulk of the fresh diaper. He stared down at the pristine white padding, a flicker of confusion cutting through the fog of his self-deprecating thoughts. "Wait a minute," he muttered to himself. "Why did I just… change into another diaper?" His mind, still reeling from the revelation about his altered childhood bedwetting, hadn't fully processed the implications of this new reality. He had simply reacted, his muscle memory guiding him through the familiar, albeit unwelcome, routine. But now, the question hung in the air, stark and demanding an answer. The astronaut diapers his five-year-old self had agreed to were specifically marketed for bedwetting. They were nighttime protection. Why, then, was his adult body seemingly defaulting to wearing them during the day? He thought back to his brief moments of consciousness between the temporal jumps. Had he felt the need for a diaper then? He couldn't recall any specific urges, just the general disorientation of returning to his own time. He considered the full pack leaning against his nightstand, the multiple wet diapers in the pail. This wasn't just a single incident. This suggested a consistent pattern. A chilling thought snaked its way into his mind. Had the altered timeline not only prevented him from outgrowing bedwetting but somehow… expanded the issue? Had his body, accustomed to the constant presence of absorbent protection at night from age five onwards, now subconsciously come to rely on it during the day as well? The comfort he had briefly acknowledged in the bulky nighttime diapers now seemed sinister, a Trojan horse that had lulled his body into a state of dependence. Had his bladder control, not just at night, but perhaps even during the day, been subtly undermined by years of relying on absorbent protection? He tentatively flexed his pelvic floor muscles, a familiar exercise he occasionally did as a general health practice. They felt… normal. Responsive. He didn't feel an immediate urge to urinate. Yet, his actions had been automatic. The sight of the wet diaper had triggered an immediate need to replace it, without him even consciously considering the time of day or his current state. He lowered his trousers, his gaze fixed on the white diaper. Was this a purely psychological dependence? Had his brain, now accustomed to the idea of wearing a diaper, simply taken over? Or was there a physiological component he wasn't understanding? Had the prolonged use of nighttime diapers somehow weakened his daytime bladder control as well? The implications were terrifying. He wasn't just dealing with bedwetting; he might be facing a more pervasive issue with his bladder function. He ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. This was a far more complex and embarrassing consequence than he had ever imagined. He had gone back in time to alter a minor childhood inconvenience and had inadvertently created a potentially lifelong, and deeply humiliating, condition. He needed to think clearly. He needed data. He needed to observe his body's reactions without the automatic assumption of needing a diaper. He needed to understand if this was a genuine loss of bladder control during the day, or a learned behavior stemming from his altered past. But the fear, the gnawing anxiety that he might need it, held him captive. He thought of the wet diapers in the pail, the automatic, almost instinctive way he had changed himself. The muscle memory, the ingrained habit, was strong. He couldn't risk it. Not yet. Not when the possibility of an accident loomed so large in his mind. The humiliation of wetting himself in his own lab, in front of Max, was too much to bear. He pulled up his trousers, the fabric bunching slightly around the bulk of the diaper. He felt a strange sense of unease, a feeling of being trapped in a cycle he couldn't control. He walked out of the bathroom, his movements stiff and self-conscious. He felt the weight of the diaper, the subtle pressure against his skin, a constant reminder of his predicament. This was no longer just about a wet bed. This was about understanding the full, unforeseen consequences of his temporal meddling. Chapter 10 He walked towards his lab, trying to project an air of normalcy that felt utterly fraudulent. The crisp morning air did little to clear the fog of Alistair’s bewildered thoughts as he walked towards his institute. The familiar cobblestone streets and the charming baroque facades seemed to mock his inner turmoil. Here he was, a respected scientist in a renowned research facility, grappling with the deeply personal and utterly undignified fallout of his own time travel. He sat at his desk, the complex equations on his whiteboard blurring before his eyes. He couldn't concentrate. Every few minutes, he found himself unconsciously shifting in his seat, checking for any signs of dampness. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, trapped by the fear of his own bladder. He was a scientist, a man of logic and reason, and yet, he was being controlled by a primal fear, a fear that he might lose control. He spent the rest of the morning in a state of heightened anxiety, his mind a constant battleground between reason and fear. Then a memory surfaced unbidden, sharp and clear as a newly developed photograph. He was eight years old, squirming uncomfortably in the back seat of his parents’ car during a long family road trip. He remembered the distinct feeling of dampness spreading through his jeans, the panicked realization that he hadn't made it to a rest stop in time. The hushed, slightly exasperated tones of his parents. And then, the distinct, crinkly feel of a pull-up being discreetly slipped on him in the cramped confines of the car. The pull-ups had become a more frequent occurrence after he started wearing the nighttime diapers at five. He recalled the subtle shift in his daytime bladder control. The occasional “oopsies” that had been rare before became more common. His mother, initially attributing it to the excitement and activity of childhood, had eventually resorted to packing extra clothes and, for longer journeys, those embarrassing pull-ups. He even had a vague, mortifying memory of one particularly long car ride, perhaps when they were visiting distant relatives, where even the pull-up hadn't been enough. He remembered the thicker, more substantial feel of a diaper being fastened around him, the shame burning in his cheeks as his parents exchanged worried glances in the rearview mirror. He had been eight years old, for God’s sake, and wearing a diaper on a car ride. The realization hit him with brutal clarity. The nighttime diapers hadn't just prevented him from outgrowing bedwetting. They had, as he suspected, impacted his daytime bladder control as well. His body, consistently relying on external protection at night, had likely become less efficient at regulating itself during the day. The occasional accidents had become more frequent, leading to the need for pull-ups, and in extreme cases, even diapers, well beyond the age when most children were reliably dry. He had created a cascade of consequences, a ripple effect through his own childhood that had now manifested in this humiliating present. The comfortable astronaut diapers, meant to ease a childhood anxiety, had inadvertently weakened his bladder control for years, culminating in his current predicament. He sighed, the weight of his altered past – and the dampness he was desperately trying to ignore – pressing down on him. He had unlocked the secrets of time, but he was now facing a far more personal and profoundly embarrassing puzzle: how to regain control of his own body. And he had a sinking feeling that this was one experiment he couldn't simply reverse with the flick of a switch. Chapter 11 Alistair managed a strained smile as he entered his lab, the familiar hum of his equipment a small comfort amidst his internal chaos. "Good morning, Max," he said, trying to project an air of normalcy that felt utterly fraudulent given his current undergarment situation. Maxine Schmidt, his sharp-witted and highly efficient assistant, looked up from her workstation, her brow furrowing slightly. "Dr. Finch, you seem… preoccupied. Everything alright?" Alistair waved a dismissive hand, hoping his slight flush wasn't too noticeable. "Just a… late night of theoretical noodling, Max. You know how it is." Max, thankfully, didn't press the issue. She launched into a summary of the overnight data analysis, her usual crisp and concise delivery a welcome distraction. As she spoke, however, Alistair's mind drifted, snagged by the simple mention of her name. Max. Maxine. He knew Max well. Years of working side-by-side had forged a strong professional bond, bordering on friendship. He knew about her passion for astrophysics, her slightly unhealthy obsession with black coffee, and her dry, sardonic sense of humor. But suddenly, a different set of memories, hazy and yet undeniably present, began to overlay his established history with her. It wasn't the Max he knew from their university days, the brilliant physics student who had aced every exam. This Max was younger, around twelve years old, with a tangle of unruly brown hair and a pair of oversized glasses that kept slipping down her nose. He saw himself, also twelve, feeling a familiar pang of self-consciousness, not about theoretical physics, but about the bulky pull-up he was wearing beneath his ill-fitting camp shorts. He was at a summer science camp, something his parents had encouraged him to attend to foster his obvious scientific inclinations. But this wasn't the advanced astrophysics seminar he clearly remembered from his original timeline. This was… different. He recalled the slightly damp, slightly musty smell of the shared cabin, the hushed whispers after lights out, the shared understanding and unspoken empathy among the occupants. The "Bedwetters Cabin." The memory hit him with another wave of realization. In his altered timeline, his persistent bedwetting, exacerbated by the early adoption of nighttime diapers, had led his parents to seek specialized help, or at least, a supportive environment. Hence, the bedwetters cabin at science camp. And that's where he had met Max. He remembered her struggling with a leaky pull-up during an outdoor stargazing session, her face flushed with embarrassment. He, feeling a similar discomfort, had offered her a spare he had (always) been forced to pack. They had bonded over their shared secret, a quiet understanding blooming amidst the other, more scientifically advanced, activities of the camp. This Max, the twelve-year-old girl in the bedwetters cabin, had been just as bright, just as curious about the universe. He remembered their hushed conversations about constellations, whispered under the covers after the counselors had made their rounds. Their shared vulnerability had forged an immediate connection, a different kind of intimacy than the one he shared with his current assistant. He saw flashes of other moments: Max helping him discreetly carry extra changes of clothes, their shared eye-rolls at the well-meaning but sometimes clumsy attempts of the camp counselors to address their nighttime issues, the quiet camaraderie of knowing they weren't alone. The Max standing before him, explaining the intricacies of quantum entanglement, was the same sharp, intelligent individual he had first encountered in a cabin filled with the shared secret of nighttime accidents. Their history wasn't just one of academic collaboration; it was rooted in a shared childhood experience, a bond forged in the quiet embarrassment and mutual support of the bedwetters cabin. A strange warmth spread through Alistair, a softening of the anxiety that had been gripping him. He wasn't alone in carrying the echoes of his altered past. Max, in her own way, was a product of that same shift. Their connection ran deeper than he had ever realized, intertwined with a shared vulnerability he had long forgotten. He listened more intently to Max's report, a new layer of understanding coloring his perception of her. He saw not just his brilliant assistant, but the resilient young girl from the bedwetters cabin, the one who had shared his secret shame and his early fascination with the stars. Perhaps, in this bizarre new reality, he wasn't quite as isolated in his embarrassing predicament as he had thought. Chapter 12 As Max concluded her report, Alistair found himself looking at her with a newfound perspective. The shared memory of the science camp, the unexpected intimacy of the bedwetters cabin, had subtly shifted their dynamic in his mind. He saw not just a colleague, but someone with whom he shared a deeply personal, albeit long-dormant, connection. "Thank you, Max," he said, his tone a little softer than usual. "That's… insightful." He spent the rest of the morning trying to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept returning to that summer camp. He remembered the awkwardness, the initial embarrassment, but also the unexpected comfort of being among others who understood. He and Max had gravitated towards each other, their shared predicament forging a silent understanding. Then, as Max was packing up for lunch, a memory surfaced, clearer and more significant than the others. It was during their university years, years after the science camp. In his original timeline, their meeting had been a chance encounter in a physics lecture hall, a shared interest sparking their initial conversations. But now, the memory played out differently. He saw himself, a slightly anxious undergraduate, attending a support group meeting on campus. It was discreet, held in a small, unassuming room. He had finally sought help for his persistent bedwetting, a problem that hadn't magically disappeared as he’d hoped. And there she was. Max. Sitting a few chairs away, her expression was a mixture of relief and quiet resignation. He remembered the surprised recognition in her eyes, mirroring his own. They hadn't seen each other since that summer camp so many years ago. The initial awkwardness quickly dissolved into a shared understanding. They were both still dealing with the same childhood issue, a secret they had unknowingly carried into adulthood. The support group became a place where they could confide in each other without the fear of judgment, their shared history from the bedwetters cabin providing an immediate foundation of trust. Their bond during university had been deeper, more immediate, than he remembered from his original timeline. They had studied together, yes, their shared passion for physics still a strong connection. But their conversations had also delved into more personal territory, the frustrations and anxieties of managing their persistent bedwetting in the demanding environment of university life. They had shared tips, offered support during difficult times, and found solace in knowing they weren't alone in this often-stigmatized condition. He remembered late-night study sessions punctuated by hushed discussions about discreet ways to handle laundry, the best absorbent products, and the constant fear of discovery. Their friendship had been built not just on intellectual curiosity, but on a shared vulnerability, a secret that had unexpectedly reconnected them years after that formative summer camp. Looking at Max now, bustling around the lab, Alistair felt a profound sense of gratitude for this altered history. While his current predicament was undeniably embarrassing, the fact that he wasn't facing it entirely alone, that he had a deeper, more understanding connection with his trusted assistant, offered a small glimmer of hope. Their shared history wasn't just a quirky side effect of his temporal meddling; it was a source of unexpected strength. They had navigated the challenges of persistent bedwetting once before, albeit as children and young adults. Perhaps, together, they could navigate this new, even more bizarre chapter of his life as well. The thought, surprisingly, brought a small, genuine smile to his face. Chapter 13 The lab shimmered once more, the familiar tug pulling Alistair away from the present. This time, the transition felt less jarring, more like stepping through a slightly out-of-sync doorway. He was instantly aware of the shift in his surroundings, the subtle changes in the air, the familiar yet slightly younger feel of his own body. He was in his old university apartment, the posters of physics luminaries slightly askew on the wall, the worn armchair in the corner looking particularly inviting. He glanced at the calendar hanging precariously by a single tack. He was 22. And then the memory hit him, sharp and poignant. This was the time. The breakup. Max had been devastated. Her boyfriend, someone Alistair had always found rather boorish, had ended their relationship, cruelly citing her "childishness" and "inability to handle basic adult functions." The underlying reason, the one Max had confided in him with tear-filled eyes, was her bedwetting. In his original timeline, Alistair winced at the recollection, he had been… awkward. Distant. He had offered generic platitudes about finding someone who truly appreciated her, but he hadn't truly understood the depth of her pain, the vulnerability she had exposed. He had been focused on his studies, on his own burgeoning career, and hadn't offered the specific, empathetic support she had clearly needed. But now, everything was different. He carried the shared history of the bedwetters cabin, the quiet understanding forged in childhood, the unspoken bond that had re-emerged during their university years. He knew firsthand the shame and anxiety that came with persistent bedwetting. He understood the courage it took for Max to open herself up to someone, only to be met with such callous rejection. A wave of protectiveness washed over him, a fierce desire to comfort the younger Max he knew was hurting right now. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found her number. His fingers hovered over the call button. He needed to be careful. He couldn't reveal his knowledge of the future, or the bizarre circumstances of his current understanding. He just needed to be there for her, as a friend, as someone who truly understood. He took a deep breath and pressed call. Max's voice, when she answered, was thick with unshed tears. "Hello?" "Max? It's Alistair." There was a slight pause, a hint of surprise in her tone. "Alistair? Hi." "I… I heard," he said gently, choosing his words carefully. "About Ben. I'm so sorry, Max." A choked sob escaped her. "It's… it's awful, Alistair. He… he was so cruel." "He doesn't know what he's lost, Max," Alistair said, his voice firm. "You are brilliant, kind, and stronger than you know. His inability to see that is his failing, not yours." He listened patiently as she poured out her hurt and anger, offering words of encouragement and validation. He spoke not with the detached sympathy of his younger self, but with the genuine empathy of someone who shared a similar struggle, someone who knew the sting of that particular vulnerability. As the conversation continued, something shifted within Alistair. He saw Max not just as a friend with a shared history, but as a remarkable woman who had faced adversity with strength and resilience. Her intelligence, her vulnerability, her unwavering spirit – all the qualities he admired in the present-day Max – were already present in this heartbroken 22-year-old. A warmth spread through him, a feeling that went beyond platonic concern. He found himself wanting to offer her more than just words, wanting to hold her, to reassure her that she was worthy of love and respect, exactly as she was. A romantic feeling, unexpected yet undeniably present, began to bloom in his chest. It wasn't just the shared history of the bedwetters cabin, or the camaraderie of their university years. It was the admiration for her strength in the face of heartbreak, the deep understanding of her struggles, and the undeniable connection that had been subtly growing between them for years, across different timelines and different ages. He ended the call with a promise to see her soon, a genuine desire to offer her tangible support. As he hung up, Alistair looked around his younger self's messy apartment, a new sense of purpose settling within him. He was here for Max. And perhaps, in supporting her through this difficult time, he might also find something he hadn't realized he was looking for. The timeline had shifted again, and this time, the changes felt deeply personal, filled with the unexpected possibility of something more. Chapter 14 The familiar lurch in his stomach, the subtle distortion of the brightly lit department store, caught Alistair completely off guard. One moment he was standing in his 22-year-old self's cluttered university apartment, the lingering echo of Max's tearful voice still in his ears, the burgeoning warmth of a new feeling stirring within him. The next, the world around him had shrunk, the scent of new fabric and department store perfume filling his nostrils once more. He blinked, his adult eyes struggling to refocus on the towering racks of children's clothing. He looked down at his small hands, his bright blue cartoon dog t-shirt. He was five again. Back in the department store. His mother's voice, younger and more melodic than he had heard in years, broke through his confusion. "You know, honey, your bed has been a little wet lately. Do you think we should try these? Maybe they'll help you stay dry at night." There she was, holding up the package of astronaut-themed diapers, the same question hanging in the air, the same pivotal moment he had already experienced – twice. Alistair stared at the package, a wave of disorientation washing over him. This shouldn't be happening. His temporal jumps had always been deliberate, controlled (or at least, he thought they were). This sudden, involuntary leap back was unprecedented. It felt like the timeline itself was stuttering, skipping, replaying key moments. He thought of Max. He loved her. The realization had solidified in his 22-year-old self, a warmth that went beyond friendship and shared history. He cherished their connection, the unique bond forged in childhood vulnerability and strengthened by years of shared experiences, both academic and deeply personal. He knew the consequences of agreeing to these diapers. He knew it would likely lead to years of bedwetting, the need for pull-ups on long trips, and ultimately, his current embarrassing predicament. He knew it had also shaped Max's childhood, leading them to that fateful science camp and their enduring, understanding connection. The thought of a timeline where he and Max might not have shared those early, formative experiences, where their bond might be different or even non-existent, sent a pang of genuine fear through his five-year-old heart. He couldn't risk losing that connection, the foundation of what he now realized was a profound and growing love. He looked up at his mother, her kind eyes filled with concern. He looked at the astronaut diapers, no longer seeing them as a symbol of potential future embarrassment, but as a thread in the tapestry of his shared history with Max. Taking a deep breath, a small smile playing on his lips, Alistair reached out and touched the package. "Yes, Mommy," he said, his voice clear and surprisingly resolute for a five-year-old. "Let's try them. They look really cool!" He pointed at the smiling astronaut on the packaging. "Maybe they'll help me dream about space!" His mother beamed, clearly pleased by his sudden enthusiasm. "Oh, good, sweetie! I thought you'd like the astronauts." She placed the package in the shopping cart, oblivious to the complex web of temporal consequences her little boy had just embraced. As they continued their shopping, Alistair felt a strange sense of acceptance. He was consciously choosing this path, fully aware of the potential pitfalls and the future filled with absorbent undergarments. But he was also choosing a path that had led him to Max, to their unique and cherished connection. And for that, he wouldn't change a thing. The possibility of a future with Max, built on the foundation of their shared history, was worth every potentially embarrassing moment. The timeline might be unpredictable, but his feelings for Max were not. Chapter 15 Alistair’s eyes fluttered open, the soft, diffused light of the morning filtering through the bedroom curtains. He stretched, a familiar contentment settling over him. Next to him, nestled amongst the rumpled sheets, lay Max, her dark hair tousled against the pillow, a peaceful smile gracing her lips. Then, the familiar, slightly damp sensation registered. A warmth against his skin, the unmistakable bulk beneath his pajamas. He glanced down, a small, wry smile touching his own lips. Yes. Still. He shifted slightly, and Max stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A sleepy smile widened on her face as she met his gaze. Then, her own eyes flickered downwards, a knowing chuckle escaping her. “Morning, sleepyhead,” she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep. “Looks like we had a little… accident.” Alistair reached over and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “Seems so,” he replied, his tone light. “Some things, it seems, never truly change.” A sudden, insistent wail pierced the peaceful morning quiet. It was a small, high-pitched cry, full of urgent need. Max’s eyes widened, and she immediately sat up, a surge of maternal energy replacing her sleepy demeanor. “There’s our little alarm clock,” she said, a fond smile returning to her face. Alistair followed her gaze towards the baby monitor on the nightstand, the soft glow illuminating the tiny form of their firstborn child. A son. Born just a few weeks ago. As they both moved to get out of bed, the familiar crinkle of absorbent material accompanied their movements. They exchanged a knowing glance, a silent acknowledgment of their shared reality. They had built a life together, a life deeply intertwined from that unexpected encounter in the bedwetters cabin so many years ago. Their shared history, their mutual understanding, had formed the bedrock of their relationship, weathering the occasional embarrassing moments with humor and unwavering support. The decision he had made as a five-year-old, the conscious choice to embrace the astronaut diapers, had indeed shaped their lives in profound ways. They had navigated adolescence and adulthood, their persistent bedwetting a shared secret, a unique thread in the tapestry of their bond. They had found comfort and acceptance in each other, a love that transcended the occasional damp sheets and the need for discreet laundry. Now, here they were, thirty years old, parents to a newborn son, still occasionally waking up to wet diapers. And somehow, it didn't feel like a source of shame. It was just… a part of their story. As Max hurried towards the nursery, Alistair carefully removed his own wet diaper, a familiar routine by now. He glanced at the baby monitor, watching Max gently lift their crying son from the crib. A feeling of overwhelming love and contentment washed over him. He wouldn't trade this life, this family, this unique and sometimes soggy journey with Max, for anything. The unpredictable nature of time had thrown him a curveball, but it had also led him to her. And as he followed Max into the nursery, ready to face the joys and challenges of parenthood – likely with a pack of diapers close at hand – he knew that their story, with all its unexpected twists and wet mornings, was just beginning. The End

This involves folks getting a little more handsy than I usually write! Drop-In A bright and sunny Saturday morning. A time no better spent than hanging out with friends, doing a bit of takeout, or just lounging around with deep dive videos on autoplay, or a good game to binge… Daniel in particular was not enjoying those weekly rituals, at the moment. Every so often one or two Saturdays were lost to duties and responsibilities that unfortunately superseded the simple pleasures of life. He hopped out of his car and swung the door shut before roofing a hand above his eyes so he could squint past the glaring sun peering just over the roof of his destination. PediaPros Big bold font in a whimsical wave on a curved and arched sign that was proudly posted on the front of the building. It was a clinic nestled in a village of other healthcare services– eye doctors, dentists, physical therapies, and so on. So for that reason, the clinic wasn’t exactly out of place, but… 20-year old Daniel checked the address and referral on his phone one more time, squinting a second time at the building front. “This can’t be the right place, right…?” He muttered to himself, but before he could check the address again, the screen on his phone was overtaken by a final five minute warning for his scheduled appointment. No time to consider an alternative, and at worst the best he could do was clarify the address with someone inside. Screw it. He had to go in; maybe this was the right place somehow… But a pediatric clinic? How the hell could someone his age mess that up? This was going to be awkward… He tried not to imagine the unusual scenario about to unfold, though he couldn’t not consider the weird look he’d get from the receptionist when she realized that the visiting patient wasn’t his kid, but the young man himself, etcetera, etcetera… He tried to shut down both his imagination and his focus… Which is why he didn’t look both ways before crossing the parking lot. HOOOOOOOOOONK! A blaring car horn startled Daniel as an oncoming vehicle became deafeningly louder the closer it got. A screeching sound as a massive machination of metal with high momentum tried to stop on a dime before colliding with a soft body of flesh and mere bones. Daniel saw it all in slow motion: the car attempting to stop, but still barreling forward, the silhouette of a horrified driver just beyond the windshield assaulted by the shining sun. Is this it? Is this how I die? Everything was in slow motion for sure. The eternal honk played out like a video set to a quarter of the original speed, and any movement to turn or escape was like wading through viscous mud mixed with molasses and rubber cement… He couldn’t move, and the car was only a handful of inches away… Shit. His moment for his life to flash before his eyes was over. Time sped up again, and the car sped straight through. Through his dying moments, an odd electric sound rippled through his ears. A hefty thump and scuff played out, and everything was black for Daniel. There was a final screech to tell that the car had stopped, only far too late. Truly, they should’ve kept going. Now they have to see Daniel’s broken and beaten body. “Goodness! That was a close one!” Daniel quickly opened his eyes, seeing he was on his bottom, sitting on the pavement with his arms oddly strung up by the armpits and dangling forward. He craned his neck and turned around to find a woman looking down at him with a relieved expression, sitting on the ground herself, only breathing slightly heavier like she was trying to recover from a sudden sprint. “Are you okay?” the woman asked attentively. The concern on her face was unmistakable, and Daniel simply couldn’t find the words as she looked down at him. His mind was totally blank. I’m not…dead? “O-oh-oh my god…!” A new woman appeared from the road where Daniel just thought he was about to kick it. She had tears in her eyes with both hands covering her mouth. “I-I’m…! I’m s-so sorry! I-I made sure to look, b-but you didn’t ch-check and-and I tried to stop– but I…!” Only now Daniel realized how wide-eyed he was, completely taken aback. One moment it was the end, and now it…wasn’t? “I think everyone’s okay,” the woman behind Daniel said to the other, who seemed to be quickly, but cautiously calming down. “I think it was just a close call– We didn’t look both ways before crossing… Luckily I got to him in time…!” The driver took a long sniff, wiping the budding tears from her eyes, nodding slowly. “S-sorry…” Daniel said, still with adrenaline and confusion. He slowly looked up at the woman. “It…it was my mistake…I was distracted…” “O-okay…” the woman sighed, calming down further. “Just…please make sure to look both ways before crossing from now on?” “Understood…” Daniel answered mechanically, and the driver finally left. “Can you stand?” The remaining woman asked, and Daniel felt himself rising against his will as two supportive hands continued to draw him up by the armpits. There was little strain or effort exerted it seemed, as the woman looked like she had barely broken a sweat in anything just now. Daniel slowly turned around, like he was still getting his land legs back, coming face to face with an armful of ample-sized breasts– He quickly turned his head up. The noticeably taller woman smiled down at him, though harboring a bit of skepticism in her eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she frowned, slightly leaning in. “Y-yeah, uh-uhm…” Daniel murmured. There weren’t any real apt words. His mind was fried from nearly dying, and the adrenaline was still pumping through him. Now an unusually tall woman had just saved him and was drilling him like she was his doctor or it was his checkup– HIS APPOINTMENT! “W-wait, I need to go– I-I have an appointment…” Daniel quickly turned, sprouting a noise of surprise from the woman, who quickly called back for him. Looking both ways this time, Daniel crossed the road and hopped up onto the sidewalk branching into the alcove with the door leading inside the clinic. But before leaving he turned one last time to face the woman and waved his hand. “Th-thank you for helping me!” She waved back and Daniel headed inside, turning the knob in line with his chest and managing the large door only a third of the way open before slipping inside. The main lobby was certainly a pediatrician’s. Pastel green walls with murals of smiling farm animals grazing in the imaginary fields. A corner filled with toys ranging from blocks to crayons and coloring books, plus a sea of empty padded seats for the people (parents) not so inclined to enjoy the toys. A digital choo-choo chimed even as a miniature train track suspended from the ceiling showed a model train chugging around the top. He didn’t even notice the giant funhouse mirror warping and wobbling his figure as he walked past in a hurry to reach the front desk. “S-sorry, I have an appointment?” Daniel slightly huffed, catching his breath. His hands were perched on the edge of the counter, uncharacteristically as high as his shoulders… But no time for that. “It’s for a physical.” The receptionist was looking down on him with a healthy vertical gap between them. Obviously she was sitting in a swivel seat with its height pushed to the maximum, but Daniel still didn’t appreciate having to look up so high. A shadow loomed over Daniel as the woman slightly leaned out, turning her head both ways, like looking for a second person before eventually resuming her typing. “Name, honey?” An adult clinic wouldn’t speak to me like that… Daniel quietly thought. Not as a slight or displeasure, but a simple observation. “Daniel Myers.” “Can you spell your last name nice and loud for me, please?” “M-Y-E-R-S.” Maybe Daniel misheard her, but he couldn’t help but pick up on a quiet murmur, “Good job…” before speaking clearly again, “Okay, yup. I have you here for a 2:00 appointment. Do you know what time it is right now?” “Huh? Wait–am I that late?” Daniel quickly remarked before checking his phone in a hurry. “2:02…” he muttered. “Thank god. Yeah, sorry about that– traffic was crazy and something just happ–” “Let’s learn to be on time in the future, okay?” the woman, who couldn’t have been more than 10 years his senior, smirked at him with a mightier-than-thou grin. The pleasantries were quickly leaving Daniel’s face, though not wanting to make an argument, responded a bit coolly in turn. “Yeah, sure…whatever.” “So it’s just you today?” the receptionist asked, swiveling around in her station to go for a filing cabinet. She was in a set of flowery-printed scrubs, though Daniel saw her in full view now, seeing that the chair didn’t look particularly cranked… Or rather, her feet clearly and comfortably touching the floor. Another tall woman…? Not that they were unicorns, but still an unusual sight for two in one day… “Yeah, just me,” Daniel said as she slid a lime green translucent plastic clipboard forward. It had a single medical sheet with a pen dangling from the board by a chain of tiny metal ball beads. “Alrighty then, just make sure to fill out as much as you can,” the woman dropped her finger on the page multiple times. “If you have any questions on anything you can just ask. I’ll give you a few minutes before calling the nurse.” “Got it, thanks…” Daniel took the slightly large board and paper with one hand and took it back to one of the seats, hopping up into place, quietly noticing the slight hover his feet had over the floor. Were the chairs just unusually big, too? He shook his head and focused on the medical sheet, looking over the basics like filling out his name, address, age, date of birth, and so on… and… He stopped. “Excuse me?” Daniel was standing back at the front desk, sliding the clipboard back onto the counter. “Is this the right form that I’m supposed to be filling out?” “We only have one kind of form, sweetheart,” the woman casually said, but peered over the page. “What’s confusing you?” “No– nothing’s confusing me, or–” he bit his tongue, not enjoying the way she phrased the question. “It’s this,” he pointed at the name fields. “There’s one for the child-slash-patient, and the other for the parent-slash-guardian.” “...Uh-huh,” the receptionist was quiet for a moment before nodded in agreement, but without any kind of inflection that said she understood his point. She was waiting for him to explain more. “I’m…20 years old…” Daniel explained, like it was obvious, but he was trying to be subtle. “I’m filling this out, but it’s structured like there’s two people here, so…?” “...Well, we only have one kind of form, honey,” the woman explained. “Just fill it out as best as you can, okay?” “...” Daniel debated arguing further, but the fact remained that it wouldn’t get him a different kind of information form. “Sure, okay… So I’ll just put my name in the parent-guardian section, then?” “Oh– no, no. Nope, you want to write your name here,” the receptionist clearly pointed to the left hand side. “Right where it says child-slash-patient.” “But…” Daniel slowly started, though she quickly shut him down. “You’re a patient, right?” the receptionist asked, like it was obvious yet needed a soft reminder. Quietly, Daniel slid the clipboard off the top, not particularly pleased with the result. “Yeah, I am.” “Just come back over if anything else is confusing you!” Daniel resigned himself back into his seat, feeling his pride somewhat slighted by his scribbles. CHILD/PATIENT: DANIEL MYERS He continued filling out the rest of the essentials, though suddenly mindful of all the wording. The questions were personal with regards to developmental or medical issues, but they were never addressing Daniel directly. It wasn’t “Do you have trouble sleeping at night?” but instead. “Does your child have trouble sleeping at night?” Ultimately whatever, but the semantics still bothered him… The next question made him turn his head. “(If child is over the age of 18 and biologically MALE) Does your child still wear diapers?” And a subsequent question… “(If checked YES to wearing diapers) Do you plan to potty train?” “Wh-what the fuck…?” Daniel murmured. “Daniel?” A new female voice called from the end of the waiting room. Another woman in scrubs waited patiently by the doorway where a half-gate was swung out. With no one else in the waiting room, she had no choice but to stare directly in Daniel’s direction, although smiling patiently, but still clearly waiting on him. He glanced over at the nurse, still bewildered by what he certainly must have misread. He glanced down at the page again, trying to find the questions once more in a frantic hurry. “Sweetheart, the nice nurse calling for you!” the receptionist beckoned him over from his seat. “Y-yeah, I know, but I…” he awkwardly stumbled down from his seat, heading straight for the receptionist. “A-are you sure this is the right form? I just saw something that–” “It’s okay if you don’t know all the answers,” the receptionist cut him off. “Just do the best you can. Now let’s not make the nice nurse wait any more. You can take that with you into the room.” “But…” Daniel huffed, annoyed by being cut off and dismissed, as if he really were an ignorant child. But with little left to say, he finally approached the nurse patiently waiting by the gate. “You must be Daniel!” she cheerily said, and Daniel once again found himself looking high up at another woman towering over him. “Yeah, that’s me,” Daniel awkwardly replied. He stood there for a second, waiting for her to lead the way, but her expression shifted into peachy confusion as she scanned the rest of the room. “Is Mom in the bathroom?” “Sorry?” Daniel blinked. “Oh! Are you with Dad today?” the nurse concerningly tilted her head. “What? No…” Daniel shook his head. “It’s just me,” he sighed. “I’m the patient. I’m my own guardian.” This was the last time he ever made the mistake of scheduling with a pediatrician… “Oh…okay…?” the nurse answered in a long, drawn-out type of voice, like Daniel was being the weird one. “But wait– hey, could you take a look at this for me?” Daniel quickly said, scanning over the medical form. “What are some of these questions about? I just read this weird one and– hey!” The clipboard was gently taken from him as the nurse pulled up from her mid-squat to look over the page herself. “No guardian, huh…” she quietly commented, then turned back on her friendly-nurse expression when addressing Daniel again. “Don’t worry about this! I’ll take care of some of this, then the doctor’s gonna fill out the rest for you. Sounds good?” “Y-yeah, but…” Daniel said at a loss. “Now let’s not stand around for too long!” the nurse nodded her head, gently guiding Daniel in with a hand on the back of his head. Promptly the wooden gate swung shut with a click, and Daniel watched the nurse re-do the chain-link latch high above Daniel’s own head keeping it closed. He followed her to one of the rooms; each door a different color between red, green, orange, blue, and purple. Inside the green room was a small doctor’s office, set with a sink, a couple cabinets, an empty chair, and examination table spanning the width from one wall to the other. On top of that, more cutesy designs filled the room between splashes of primary color paint and smiling and laughing buckets of paint and brushes up to no good all over the walls of the room. “I’ll put this here…” the nurse said while she dropped the clipboard on a high shelf reserved for physician tablets and computers. Impossibly out of Daniel’s reach, then walked by Daniel and over to the cushioned counter, whisking out an unending sheet from a sturdy spool of wax paper bolted into the end of the examination table. “Can you get up all on your own?” the nurse stood back, asking before using her white sneaker-wearing foot to nudge a footstool in front of the table. “Y-yeah, I’m fine…” Daniel said, approaching the table without intending to use the stool, but… He felt his neck craning the closer he got, so he awkwardly stepped up onto the metal stool, swinging his leg up and making contact first with his knee, then pulling himself up the rest of the way. The room loudly crinkled and the wax paper beneath him rustled, folded and cracked as he settled in, only barely being at eye level now with the nurse. “Okay…!” the nurse said with a smile, strolling back over to the clipboard, taking the pen attached to it. “Uhm– sorry, excuse me?” Daniel spoke up. “Mhm?” the nurse attentively nodded. “Is…is everything here just…big?” “Big?” the nurse repeated in confusion, but smirking. “Yeah…uh, big. It just seems like everything is…well, big.” From the rooms to the chairs to the people here themselves. Everyone but Daniel… “Well, I guess you could say it’s all big, yeah,” the nurse nodded with a giggle before going back to the paper. Obviously they weren’t on the same page… “Okay, Danny, we’re just gonna check some simple stuff before I call in the doctor, okay?” “Yeah, sure, that’s fine,” Daniel sighed, simply wanting this odd experience to be over with. “Great,” she said, then started sampling tools from the counter with the sink. First she checked his ears with a plastic nozzle probe. He could feel the warmth radiating from the light in his ear. “This ear looks good…” She gently leaned him to the other side by the shoulders, then checked the other. “This one too…” Daniel quietly obeyed, letting her even go through the process of checking his blood pressure. “Has Summer been fun?” the nurse asked, and Daniel blinked out of his trance. “Sorry? Summer?” “Yeah, Summer!” the nurse chuckled. “Got a lot of freetime, don’t ya? Trips to the park, maybe late night video games…!” “Well, maybe over the weekends…?” Daniel shrugged, ignoring the growing pressure on his right bicep. “Mostly work, though.” “What?!” the nurse exclaimed with a laugh, like she was humoring a reaction to something outrageous. “What do you mean work? It’s Summer! School doesn’t start up again for a whole more month!” “School…?” Daniel frowned. “No, I’m not in college– I work full time.” “I didn’t think you were in college either, silly,” the nurse chuckled. “All I’m saying is that you should probably be focused a lot more on having fun! Summer’s only once a year!” She undid the strap over his arm and walked back over to the form to fill some more information out. “Danny, can you please hop off the table for me? I need you over here.” Daniel complied, ignoring the liberal use of his name, and saw waiting for him around the corner of the sink counter was a weight and height scale. The ruler measuring his height was bright yellow and dotted with orange spots, wiggling and waving as the scale extended and the overhead ornament used to level with the patient's head was a smiling giraffe… “Oh! You can take your shoes off first,” the nurse quickly held him back with a hand over his chest before he could step on. Daniel complied before stepping back on. “And no tippy-toes, please!” the nurse advised while guiding Daniel’s posture to stand up straight. If there was anything sane or “normal” to come out of this entire endeavor, it was at least the numbers reported on the scale. “Five-foot-nine… One-hundred-thirty-nine pounds…” the nurse mumbled as she jotted down the information. “Okay! You can step off.” At least Daniel knew who he still was. It truly was just a strangely massive clinic. Was it a specialty one catering to unusually tall people? He had no clue, but all the desire to get out of here. “Okay, Danny, I think that I’ve got mostly everything here…” the nurse summarized, checking between her own notes and the odd patient form that Daniel started with. “One last bit, though! There’s this bit at the top of the sheet that tells us the name of the parent or guardian who should be filling this out for you,” she looked up from the page. “Do you know Mom’s full name so I can write it down?” “What?” Daniel blinked. “N-no, that’s… That’s what I was trying to figure out with the receptionist or whatever. I know it’s a little weird that I’m coming here at my age, but I’m twenty years old– I don’t need any guardian.” “Oh wow!” the nurse awed, but to Daniel it sounded like a babysitter humoring her kid of the night’s pretend play. “That’s a big number! Well, Danny, I can tell you that I know plenty of other 20 year old boys your age don’t know their mom’s full names either, and that’s okay!” She set down the clipboard, leaving Daniel at a loss for words as she put her hand on the doorknob. “Dr. Elina will be in here in just a few minutes, okay? Can you be a big help by getting down to your undies for her, please?” She waved one last time before leaving the room. “What the hell is up with this place…?” Daniel sighed, climbing back up to the examination table with a huff, then lifting one foot at a time, undoing the laces and kicking off his shoes. At least his age, weight, and height were consistent… Asking him to take his clothes off were too… Nothing was necessarily wrong with what the nurse did either, per say, and yet… Everything else around it was what he found off putting… How long had he been here for, even? Daniel stopped to pull out his phone, tapping the screen to bring it to life. “Half an hour already…” Daniel sighed, just about to put his phone away before noticing an unfriendly icon pinging on the corner of his notifications. No bars, or any kind of service for that matter. He frowned, checking for any kind of internet connection, of which he had none of, apparently. Knowing full well that his bills were freshly paid, he looked around the room and its generic popout tile ceiling with as much skepticism as he could imagine for a normal medical building, but of course it didn’t add up. What normal clinic in the middle of a busy complex in the heart of a city had trouble with phone reception? There was a brisk knock on the door from the outside, lasting only a second before a new figure stepped inside the room. “You must be Danny?” A soothing voice spoke before she could even close the door. The doctor wearing glasses and sporting a blonde bob haircut gave him a friendly smile as it clicked shut. She was a refreshing escape from the florals and pastel colors. To a small degree she was in fact out of place here– looking almost too doctorly. A white coat and muted color shirt underneath. She was in slacks and simple flats. Those along with of course the signature stethoscope draped around her neck. “Uh, yeah…nice to meet you…” Daniel said, going quiet as the doctor set herself up. “And this is…your patient form,” Dr. Elina commented simply, scanning over the page with a resting smile. With her other hand holding a tablet and small lunchbox-sized container, she set her own items aside. She turned her head to face Daniel. “Are you nervous at all? Everything okay?” The question felt strangely targeted but also out of left-field. Daniel gave her a weird look. “Uhm…I think I’m fine? …Don’t know why I wouldn’t be?” “Okay,” Dr. Elina nodded, smiling. “That’s good! It’s okay if you were nervous; sometimes boys can be a little worried about meeting the big old bad doctor!” she chuckled, and Daniel took too long to debate whether he should laugh back. “So this is for your yearly physical, yes?” “Uh yeah, that’s correct.” Daniel nodded. “Mhm,” Dr. Elina nodded again, busy sifting through her tablet. “Mhm…and…okay. Good. Good!” She looked at him again. “And sweetie– can you take your pants off for me? Do you need help?” The question was blunt, and admittedly a bit condescending the way it reached Daniel’s ears. He made a face. “Uh, no…I can take them off…” Daniel said, slowly undoing the button on his jeans. “Good job,” Dr. Elina commented, like it was customary to praise a child for doing something so simple. “Shirt too, please?” Daniel did the same, until finally he was naked save for his briefs. “Now Danny, I’m going to–” Daniel interrupted, and Dr. Elina stopped on a dime. “Uhm, sorry, but maybe if I could just check something first?” Dr. Elina paused, then morphed into a smile. “Of course honey, what is it?” “I know I might look…small, or whatever, or that this place is just weirdly big, but– I just wanna clarify that I’m 20 years old.” “Uh-huh?” Dr. Elina nodded understandingly. “Yeah, so… So I know it’s a little weird of me to be coming to a pediatrician like this…” “Oh, honey, it’s nothing weird at all?” Dr. Elina refuted with a concerned frown. “It’s…not?” Daniel asked confusedly. “Of course not!” Dr. Elina chuckled. “Do you have a sister?” “A sister? No, I’m an only child…” Daniel said. “Oh, then in that case, maybe a friend who has a sister–” the doctor said, then continued. “20 is definitely that age where boys start to wonder why they keep seeing the same doctor since they were a little bit younger, but it’s perfectly normal. Yes, it’s typically around 18 or so that you might start seeing young women around your age moving on to grownup doctors, but that’s because we know that boys and girls aren’t the same in a lot of ways, right?” She paused like a kid’s cartoon waiting for their viewer to talk to the screen. “...Right,” Daniel answered. “Right!” Dr. Elina nodded encouragingly. “So there’s no need to be worried or concerned about if you’re in the right place, sweetheart. We deal with plenty of boys your age, and also quite a bit older!” “Okay…but uh, maybe at the end of this I could get some referrals to a…grownup doctor? Just in case?” Daniel asked. “Well…” Dr. Elina’s mouth went a bit sideways. “We can figure that out after your checkup, okay?” “Yeah, sure…” Daniel sighed, not exactly enthused over having another one of his concerns deferred. “Oh, and Danny? One other thing,” Dr. Elina started, “Just so we both are on the same page, I know this sounds silly, but– Can you tell me the name of this place?” Daniel frowned once more. Was this some kind of minimum cognitive function test, or something? “Uhm…yeah? PediaPros?” Though he omitted the part where he questioned the “pro” part of the name… “That’s the name, isn’t it?” “...Yes it is!” Dr. Elina nodded, smiling down at her tablet as she continued scribbling. “Thank you for answering that! Okay. Let’s get started then!” Dr. Elina hummed as she approached Daniel, taking off her stethoscope and fixing it on her ears. Only now was her massive chess hiding behind her shirt and jacket coming into full view for Daniel. Another giantess drawing her breasts right up to his eyes as the cold suction-cup like pad was pressed against his chest. “Can you take a nice deep breath for me, please?” Dr. Elina asked, and Daniel complied. A couple seconds went by. “...And deep exhale.” All the air left Daniel’s lungs. “Good job,” Dr. Elina calmly remarked. “Let’s try that again.” So they did, until Dr. Elina swapped over to his back, repeating the same with acceptable results. “Breathing is nice and healthy. I like the sound of those lungs,” Dr. Elina commented. “Uhm…thanks?” Daniel said back awkwardly, earning a small chuckle from the doctor. A few more rudimentary tests went on, from tapping his knees for reflexes and checking the inside of his mouth, and so on… “Okay…” Dr. Elina finished writing a few more notes. “Now Danny, I’m going to move on to a few more very important tests, okay?” “...Yeah, okay?” Daniel nodded. “Does it change when you turn 20, or something?” “Not quite,” Dr. Elina said, “when you turn 18. But I imagine your previous doctor didn’t do these kinds of tests. It’s not uncommon for boys from your background, but luckily you’re here now so we know what to look out for!” “Right…” Daniel nodded, still unsure. “Now I don’t want you to be nervous, but I’m going to need to check your big boy parts, okay?” “Oh, yeah…” Daniel already started laying down on the table. Something he wasn’t ever really enthusiastic about when it came to these check-ups… Something about having a male doctor in a way made him feel less uncomfortable, or at least, not as… A shadow of hanging breasts strained in a shirt coupled with a female doctor’s smile loomed over him. There was a slight tingle in his crotch. Aroused… Dr. Elina was deliberate, slow, and delicate. She gingerly slipped her gloved fingers beneath the waistband of his underwear, lifting his hips ever so slightly off the table as she rolled his waistband down, tugging his underwear down and down… Down and down… “Uhm…” Daniel nervously spoke up. He was used to a “flash” or quick check– not a full-on strip search as far as this part went…! “Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Dr. Elina assured, and by this point Daniel’s full crotch was exposed, dick, balls, and all. His briefs were bunched and gathered down at his thighs, leaving him totally exposed and uncovered. The only partial shroud he had was his pubic hair… “Mm…” Dr. Elina commented, staring and studying his genitalia intently. Daniel watched with a nervous heartbeat as he tried to keep himself composed, and especially remain limp… But an electric tingle gave him goosebumps when Dr. Elina’s latex finger lightly brushed a few of his curly hairs. “Danny, do you know what the term H.A.C.K. means?” “Like…computer hacking…?” Daniel asked with an unsure look. What was she even talking about? “Not quite,” Dr. Elina chuckled. She gently patted his bare chest before stepping away. “Just lay right there for me, okay? I can explain.” Daniel did as he was told, although he watched Dr. Elina rummaged through the top cabinets above the sink, pulling out a few different items. One however was a tall metal can with a head like a soap dispenser. He watched a mint green foam-like cream pile into her hand, almost like a mix between shaving cream and foamy hand soap. She came back over, and Daniel was expecting some kind of prompt, but he lurched forward out of reflex the moment she smothered his crotch in the lukewarm cream. “It’s not cold, is it?” Dr. Elina asked him casually as she sensually and carefully rubbed the cream around his privates, only brushing against his penis lightly and circling away at every moment they came into contact. “It…it’s not…but…” Daniel murmured, trying to suppress an erection. “Wh-why are you doing this– e-exactly?” “Well, Danny, the term H.A.C.K. actually means a few different things, and the first is H for hygiene, or hair,” Dr. Elina explained, continuing her general rubbing motions. “It’s not uncommon for boys your age to have pubes, or hair that grows around the penis and balls. It’s perfectly natural, but it can also be a bit problematic.” “Problematic…?” Daniel asked, trying to ignore the brushing sensations near his dick. “Yes. Pubes tend to shed or fall off like normal hair on our heads in day-to-day life, except pubic hairs are a little less hygienic because they grow around the spots where you pee-pee from, and also where some other grown up stuff can come out of your penis. It’s also trapped in your undies all day where sweat can accumulate, and may not be washed as properly like the hair on your head is during a shower or bath. Sometimes it can be itchy for boys down there too, making them scratch spots where their hands really shouldn't be, as well as allowing odor to accumulate.” Daniel watched Dr. Elina tug a wipe from a nearby dispenser, slowly combing across the foamy mess on his crotch. Then he looked increasingly concerned as he saw the results left over. “So that’s why the H in H.A.C.K. stands for hair removal.” “W-wait! My pubes!” Daniel shouted in shock. Every speck of cream had been wiped away, but so too was all his hair…! He looked spotless! Like there was never a follicle to begin with…! “Nice and clean!” Dr. Elina remarked with a smile, balling up the wipe now that Daniel could see was stained in cream but also covered with likely hundreds of squiggly and curly hairs…! “That should last you for about half a year before we’d need to apply any cream again.” “Wh-what the fuck…?!” Daniel spoke up in an outrage, immediately sitting back up. “Ah-ah!” Dr. Elina tutted, forcing him back down. “Danny, let’s behave, okay? I’m sorry if I surprised you like that, but I can promise you that this is perfectly normal, okay?” “What doctor gets rid of my fucking pubes during a physical?!” Daniel shouted. “A doctor who cares about your wellbeing very much,” Dr. Elina insisted. “I promise that I won’t do anything to hurt you, Daniel. I’m sorry if you feel upset, but that’s a perfectly normal reaction. Is it okay if I continue?” “What– are you gonna shave my head next?!” Daniel spoke defensively. “I promise you I will do no such thing,” Dr. Elina assured him. “Are you okay now? Can we continue?” What the fuck was wrong with this place? And this doctor…?! “This is insane…” Daniel openly muttered, forgetting any sense of subtleties. “Wait just one second,” Dr. Elina said, leaving the table for another moment. Daniel watched her like a hawk this time, trying to discern danger so he could make for a sprint to the door at a moment’s notice. She was crouched this time underneath the sink and pulled out a plastic cube containing a…teddy bear? “Here he is…!” Dr. Elina smiled, pulling the bear out of its container. “This is a very special helper of mine. His name is Mr. Disty.” “I’m not interested,” Daniel said, faintly hearing her fiddle with a zipper on his back. “That’s okay, but if it’s alright, I’d like it if he kept me some company,” Dr. Elina said, setting the bear right between Daniel’s head and the wall. “But if you’d like, you’re more than welcome to hang on to him for me?” “I’m fine,” Daniel said firmly, crossing his arms. “Can we get this over with already?” “...Of course we can,” Dr. Elina answered kindly in turn. “Now the A for H.A.C.K. stands for arousal. Do you know what that means?” “Yeah, like having an erection…” Daniel sighed, finding it not so hard to suppress an erection when he was rightfully pissed. “That’s correct!” Dr. Elina praised, and Daniel sighed, closing his eyes and listening to the quiet hum in his head. “This next test is another very important one. It’s conducted at every boy’s yearly physical once they turn 18. It’s called CARE for short,” Dr. Elina explained as she put on a single odd-looking glove, leaving the other hand bare. They looked latex or rubbery, but covered in…tendrils? Malleable nubs similar to the texture of a dusting glove or something similar… “That's what the C is in H.A.C.K. Kind of silly, but it’s an acronym within an acronym. It stands for: Controlled Arousal Response Evaluation. A bit fancy, but all you have to do is relax, okay?” “O…kay…” Daniel answered strangely, now watching the doctor. She produced another bottle and squirted a liberal amount of see-through gel into the glove. It was a runny substance that quickly seeped and dripped down and through the tendrils. He watched her one-handedly fish out a phone from her pocket with the ungloved hand and tap through her screen. Daniel’s eyes started to wander, landing back on the woman’s large chest…thinking about her naked breasts…wondering maybe…what kind of underwear she was wearing underneath? What color was her bra…? A lukewarm, textured grip suddenly had him by the dick. He gasped as he turned his head and saw Dr. Elina’s gloved hand envelop his penis entirely in a slimy, bumpy and wriggly hold…! “Do the best you can…okay?” Dr. Elina said with a simple smile, slowly starting to lift with her snug squeeze, stretching and taking Daniel’s dick along with it, until… squirt! A wet squelch as she quickly and suddenly pumped her hand back down…! A jolt reached his heartbeat, a pump of blood ran through his check, down through his arteries and straight into his crotch…! “Just like that…” Dr. Elina whispered, and Daniel’s breathing went heavy as the tugged and lifted– squelch! Back down again. Wet, slimy. Frictionless. Squeeze, hold, hug… He was rock hard before he even knew it. The squeeze, the pressure, the tightness..,! Up! Down! Up Down! The doctor’s hand moved like a machine and an uncontrollable urge to burst and unload was hitting Daniel’s dick at a frightening speed. Dr. Elina’s pace with her hand was irregular– unpredictable. First it was slow, then it was fast. Then it was medium– until it was fast again. Faster…faster…faster…! Fast–! A small gasp erupted from Daniel as he felt it all unload. His face went flush the moment he ejaculated into the doctor’s glove, adding more slime and substance to the sticky and wet mess that his deflated penis was now sandwiched in. “And time~!” Dr. Elina calmly remarked, tapping the screen of her phone. “That puts you at…almost 30 seconds!” Dr. Elina nodded affirmatively at her screen before letting go of Daniel’s dick covered in his own fluids and the translucent gel. She carefully took off her glove and set it in a designated waste bin before entering information on her tablet. “Wh…what…” Daniel tried to catch his breath, unsure of what to think or how to feel, “What does that mean…? Is…is that good…?” “Good?” Dr. Elina repeated from her screen, sounding uncertain of the question. “Mm…Well, sweetheart, everyone goes at their own pace, right? Everyone’s different, so don’t worry about that, okay?” “R-right…” Daniel sighed, winded and looking up at the ceiling, drowning in the sound of the hum. Did…did my doctor just jack me off…? “Now let’s get this little buddy all cleaned up…” Dr. Elina used a few more wipes to clean off Daniel’s crotch and make him dry once again. Not once did he speak or complain. He was totally resigned, feeling weak and limp. Tired. “Oh?” Dr. Elina quietly remarked. Without asking, Daniel shivered the moment he felt a new latex glove gently inspect his balls, gently massaging and moving them, and lastly lightly pinching or gripping the upper end of his shaft, brushing the head and tugging a tiny bit. “Mm… Danny? Are you still awake, honey? You don’t have to open your eyes, but can you hear me?” “Y-yeah…” Daniel commented, curling his toes. He stretched his arms out and brushed against something that felt soft and cuddly. Instinct compelled and his left arm snatched a soft body nearby, bundling it against his chest. “I just cleaned up your penis, but it seems like there was still a little leftover that still needed to leak out. Now can you be very honest with me? Sometimes when you go pee-pee on the big boy toilet, do you not always get it all out? Maybe you dribble a little bit in your undies when you stand back up, or a little bit later?” Dribbles…? Yeah…maybe a tiny bit… “Mhm…” Daniel nodded, snuggling against the cozy, furry friend. “Okay, thank you for being honest with me. That was very responsible of you.” He listened to the hum, snuggled the teddy bear, and kept his eyes closed as the faint sounds of Dr. Elina working around the room occasionally reached his ears, and soon he heard her come back to the table. “Now Danny, I don’t want you to think that you failed the CARE exam, okay? Every boy does differently, and all that means is we just need to react accordingly. The time you lasted is well within average expectations, meaning that your arousal levels are perfectly expected for your age. That also means however you qualify for what’s called an arousal modulation device.” “Uh-huh…” Daniel answered with his eyes closed. “I’m gonna put some gel on your privates that might feel a little cold for a few seconds, but it’ll go away real fast, okay?” “Yup…” he said through a yawn. True to the doctor’s word, the gel was cold, and Daniel did open his eyes. He watched her fiddle between his legs, pinching the excess skin around his balls, which he certainly felt for all of half a second before it felt like…nothing. He felt pressure, so to speak and the activity between his legs, but in terms of direct feeling he registered nothing as he watched Dr. Elina squeezed not only his balls but also his penis through a snug green ring. Her gestures again were surgical as she tested and checked the fitness of the ring that was as far back as it could go– to the base of his dick and stem of his testicals. All the while, Daniel’s entire nether region felt completely numb. Nonexistent. “Now this might feel a bit snug at times, but it’s something you’ll get used to, okay?” Dr. Elina explained with the next piece. Another green item that looked like a hollow sphere that was cut in half, dotted with holes along the dome and a vertical slit down the middle. He watched her grab the base of his penis and place the green shell against it like it was a helmet, funnily enough. Then he watched curiously as she slowly compressed his limp dick, further and further until meager length changed into moderate width, turning into a compressed and packaged nub, totally captured by the green shell that met with the green ring. It was like watching a different body, as he couldn’t feel a single thing down below. Was that this dick? Could it really fit in a space so small and tiny? “Then we hold it all together with this…” Dr. Elina explained as she produced a small key with a cylinder attached to the end. It conveniently slid perfectly into a single long hole formed by the perfect alignment between the shell covering Daniel’s dick and the ring behind his balls. The kid and cylinder went in perfectly, and Dr. Elina turned the key, smoothly pulling it back out, but leaving the metal cylinder behind. Her other hand let go of the shell of the cage, but the green nub didn’t fire away. His dick didn’t uncompress and push it off. Or maybe it’s just that it…couldn’t? The ring didn’t budge either. Curiously, Daniel’s hand wandered and drifted to the green device affixed on his crotch, feeling the hard and rigid smooth shell covering his privates that’d now been miniaturized. It was almost like a…cage? “Does it hurt?” Dr. Elina asked, smiling as she fixed a small chain around her neck, slipping the key that dangled from it beneath her shirt. “No…” Daniel shook his head. Was he missing something? Was it supposed to hurt? When was the numbing gel supposed to wear off? He squeezed Mr. Disty. “Good!” Dr. Elina nodded approvingly. “It’s perfectly normal for boys your age to need an arousal modulation device, so it’s nothing to be ashamed of. And a year from now we’ll do another CARE test to see how things might have changed.” “A…year…?” Daniel asked distantly, but Dr. Elina was gone again, but not far away. She was this time crouched right in front of the examination table and going through the cabinets underneath. “And lastly…K,” Dr. Elina stood back up with a white rectangular bottle, and a patterned square covered in multicolored polka dots. Daniel watched quietly as she set the items aside, first tending to Daniel’s underwear still bunched around his thighs, snaking them off him completely. “Now because of what I observed after administering your CARE exam, and you also mentioned that you’re dealing with dribbles after going potty,” Dr. Elina explained as she unfolded the rectangle– a cushy-looking diaper, “it sounds like you’re experiencing common symptoms from another common case from most boys in general known as UBS, or underdeveloped bladder syndrome. It’s nothing to worry about, but in general this can mean that the muscles in your pee-pee aren’t quite where the rest of your body would like them to be. That means you can be prone to leaks or letting out a little bit of extra stuff you either didn’t get out of your system, or couldn’t hold back long enough in order to reach a toilet. That’s where these guys come in.” “A…diaper…?” Daniel asked. He was feeling lucid enough to understand the strangeness in his doctor, currently lifting both his legs in the air by the ankles, but not aware enough to actually be pushing back. Instead, he simply registered the crinkle and soft cushion his bottom was lowered onto. “That’s right, honey, a diaper,” Dr. Elina nodded. “Typically boys in this world aren’t potty trained. Some are– though most don’t make it, or the few that do are likely to relapse. So color me surprised when I saw you with your very own big boy undies!” Dr. Elina suddenly cooed, lightly tapping Daniel on the nose. And the touch made him feel…funny? Giggly? “Oop– and let’s say bye-bye to Mr. Distractions, okay? I think that I left him on for a bit too long…” Dr. Elina said to herself, gently disarming Daniel and fiddling with the bear again before putting him back away. Daniel was all relaxation as Dr. Elina sealed the deal by drawing up the front of the diaper and taping it into place, packing his privates in even further, leaving a slight pressure that the numbness persisting below wouldn’t allow him to fully register. “There we go~!” Dr. Elina smiled over him. “Does that feel better now? Huh? Does Danny feel all good now?” “Mm…yeah…” Daniel nodded, stretching his legs with a rustling crinkle that came from more than just the wax paper. “Good!” Dr. Elina chuckled, strolling back over to her tablet and the green clipboard. The humming Daniel was listening to was gone, except replaced by a much more organic tune– Dr. Elina’s hums by her workstation. Just as Daniel was sitting up, feeling a fog slowly starting to clear in his head, Dr. Elina came back over with the clipboard in hand. Once she reached the table she turned around in place and carefully sat up on the table with Daniel, then set the clipboard aside for only a second so she could gently deposit him into her lap. “Danny, could you please take a look at this for me?” Daniel watched Dr. Elina pulled the clipboard back into view. It was the form that Daniel had started with, only now it not only had his penmanship on it, but also the nurse’s, and now Dr. Elina’s doctorly scribbles too. “Can you read that name at the top for me, please?” Dr. Elina asked. “Uhm…” Daniel scanned the top of the page, but a slight warmth forming between his legs was a little distracting. “Pedia…Pals?” “Ope– uh-huh, that does say PediaPals,” Dr. Elina nodded with a chuckle. “But nope! Can you read…this for me, please?” She slowly traced her finger from the field with Daniel’s name, all the way over to the right where the other blank one– or…no, where the one with a name written on it was. “Joeanne…Elina?” Daniel read the name, though the significance of it wasn’t exactly striking him. “Uh-huh!” Dr. Elina said in an elated voice, squeezing Daniel in her lap. “And you know, Danny? That’s the end of your physical!” “Finally…” Daniel sighed, rubbing the front of his head. Wait…what did he just read again? “Now let’s go bring this back to the nice lady in the front room, okay?” “Sounds good…” Daniel went along with the same idea he was having in his head. He expected to hop down and walk his way out, but as Dr. Elina stood, so did Daniel, in a way, being glued to the doctor’s hip. They were going together? He lightly squeezed his legs and felt a fresh warmth heat the in-betweens of his legs. A potent nursery scent tickled his nostrils too. But between the sound of the examination room door opening and closing, he heard one last joyful remark underneath Dr. Elina’s breath. “And to think he’d be a Drop-In!” Find more fun story, DD lore, games, and art on my SubscribeStar! Otherwise, see you next time on here!

Rei was a small 10 year old girl sighed as she entered her room and opened her drawer to grab her pjs to get ready for bed “Huh what are these I’ve never seen these before

So my OC finds a footie sleeper on her dresser that she’s never seen before and decides to try them on and she wakes up finds her panties replaced with a diaper and that her mother thinks she was never potty trained

First story I’ve ever written here are the first 3 chapters of The Chart. This is completely fiction. The Smith household was busy on this cold Monday morning. Wendy was getting ready to go to work while her husband Mike was getting there son ready for the new nanny to come watch Mason while Mike worked from home. The doorbell rang and Mike opened the door and felt a chill down his back as the new nanny, Madison was standing outside the door. Mike said hello and Madison smirked knowing full well her mission here. She was hired by Wendy not only to help potty train Mason but also help him gain a friend or sibling in Mike. Wendy greeted Madison and smiled thinking of her first meeting with Madison a few weeks earlier at a coffee shop. A few weeks earlier….. Wendy walked into the coffee shop and saw the young women sitting in the booth waiting for someone. She knew she had to be discreet to make sure no one heard the conversation she was about to have. She smiled and walked over to the women and said, “Hello, I’m Wendy. You have come highly recommended for what I am needing help with.” Madison smiled introduced herself and said although her practices may seem extreme they are very effective. Wendy sat in the booth and began to explain that it was time to start potty training Mason, however as much as she loved her husband, she had always wanted another child. Mike couldn’t do that though. They struggled after Mason was born only to find out Mike could not produce any more children. This broke Wendy’s heart, and that is when she was recommended Madison’s services. Madison got excited and began to explain what would happen. Madison stated, “No worries, Wendy. Mason will be potty trained in no time but he will soon have the sibling you are wishing for to give him. My process is simple both will have a chart while Mason’s will be introduced first he will fly through his potty training but as Mason will find success, Mike will soon begin to have failure.” Wendy’s eyes lit up as she heard that she would soon have another child and sibling for Mason that she was yearning for. “By failure do you mean potty issues?” asked Wendy. “Yes, very much so and so much more Mike will begin to regress as well. Have you decided on what gender you want Mike to be before we start?” Wendy didn’t even think about that you mean you can make him a girl if needed. She thought she always wanted a daughter maybe Mason can have a sister. She responded, “Well I didn’t even think about that but maybe a daughter, it would be a dream and I can just picture Mason protecting her when he gets older. Yes, she said smiling let’s make Mike be my dream daughter.” Madison was overjoyed this just got better she replied, “Perfect Wendy. Have you thought about how young you want to take her?” “3 months old, is what I was thinking for Mike even before I knew we could change his gender as well,” advised Wendy. Madison wrote all this down and said ok everything is set we will see each other in a few weeks to begin. I can’t wait to start. Wendy could’t contain her excitement, said her goodbyes to Madison knowing she would have her little princess in due time. Back to the present: Wendy stated she was off to work and that she would see Madison later, she gave Mike a kiss and told him to enjoy work. Mike didn’t think anything of it and said his goodbyes and began to log on to his work computer. Madison went over and greeted Mason smiling saying are you ready for some fun and begin potty training. The 2 1/2 year old smiled and cheered, “Yay, Potty Potty!!!” Madison got her famous chart out of her bag where Mason’s name was listed and hung it up in his room. She explained, “Now Mason this is your chart and we have these dinosaur stickers that will be given for all the times you make it to the potty.” Mike could overhear the conversation and laughed at how this was going to work. He’s seen this before and it didn’t work. Little did he know this was just beginning of his day. Mason couldn’t contain his excitement he loved dinosaurs and Madison told him he would get a special surprise for his success. He loved surprises. Madison took him to his potty chair that Wendy and Mike had bought for him and sat him down. She started, “Now Mason this is just your first time so if you don’t go, it is no big deal we will try again in a few hours.” Mason sat on his potty and after a few minutes there was a flow heard in the potty. Madison was surprised and smiled knowing what would happen next as she didn’t expect a success on the first try. She took the little boy over to his chart and helped put a sticker on the chart. Mason excitedly said, “Yay, Potty, I get surprise now?” “Not yet but you will see soon,” Madison told the excited toddler. Meanwhile in the other room, when the sticker was placed on the chart, Mike felt a sudden tingle but didn’t think anything of it and continued to work on his book. Mike was a writer and was working on his next book. He felt he was successful after writing 3 other best sellers. He did feel bad though that Wendy worked so hard but he couldn’t give her the second child she wanted. The change was subtle but Mike at 32 years old suddenly looked a little younger but no one would notice because he certainly didn’t. After the success, Madison brought Mason in to share the good news with Mike. Madison just wanted to see if her chart had started its work. Mason ran over to his dad excitedly, “Daddy, I potty.” Mike smiled good job buddy and looked at Madison approvingly. “I must say pretty good for the first time,” Mike spoke to Madison. “You’ll be shocked at just how effective my practices are plus little Mason here was told he would soon get a surprise once he’s potty trained.” Mike looked at Madison confused but figured it must be something Wendy had spoken to her about. Madison stared at Mike to see the changes as although Mike couldn’t see any changes, she certainly could. She saw that his skin had already become softer and a little younger. She placed his age around 30 she knew the true fun wouldn’t begin for a while she would just have to concentrate on helping Mason succeed only then would she truly see the changes in the future little princess. She smirked knowing the fun was just beginning. Chapter 2 The day went by quick Madison and Mason played and every few hours she would take him to his potty chair to try by the end of the day Mason went on the potty a 2 more times but did have a few accidents in his pull ups. Mike meanwhile saw another few years drift away while he was working. He seemed to have a renewed energy writing his new book but had no idea what was going on that he was regressing every time Mason went to the potty. Madison put Mike’s age around 26 which made her happy after the first day. Wendy got home after a long day at work and met Madison at the door. Madison advised the successful first day for both Mason and Mike. Wendy was excited to see the changes in Mike. She asked Madison to come back early the next morning as she needed to head off to court early. Madison obliged and made her way home knowing if Mason made it to the potty while she was gone Mike would still feel the changes. Wendy walked in the door and saw Mike and Mason playing she could see Mike was already younger and couldn’t wait to see him regress more. She loved Madison’s method of the chart and how Mike would not notice anything different until it was too late. Mike in the meantime greeted his wife and advised that dinner was almost ready. That would be one thing she missed once she got her little girl but it was so worth it. Maybe she could hire a new nanny to come in once Madison’s work was complete unless of course Madison wanted to stay on. The family ate dinner and little Mason excitedly told his Mommy about his day and how well Madison said he did potty training. Wendy obliged and smiled, “Mason do you need to go potty now you are making the face you make when you need to poop.” Mike was oblivious and wasn’t listening but saw that his wife and son were gone from the dinner table. In a short while he heard excitement from Wendy and Mason. His wife explained how Mason had went number 2 on the potty for the first time. She wanted Mike to see Mason put another sticker on the chart. When this occurred Mike grew shorter and younger losing about 4 years off his previous renewed agent of 26. Unbeknownst to Mike he was now 22 and was getting younger. He lost muscle tone and what little facial hair was now gone. He had no recollection of the books he had previously written and had just graduated college recently. He was no longer Wendy’s husband at this age but her boyfriend. Wendy saw this and was elated she had no idea this change would occur but she assumed it was due to Mason going number 2 in the potty. She noted it and would talk to Madison in the morning about it. Right now she had to make love to her boyfriend Mike for probably the last time as tomorrow he would be too young for this he would be her son by then. Mason was put to bed and Wendy and Mike had an eventful night of love. Mike was exhausted after the fact and passed out in bed. Wendy lay awake with adrenaline and excitement knowing all well what was happening. She knew in the next few days she would have her little girl she always wanted and she knew she needed to get everything ready. She fell asleep knowing tomorrow she had to get to work early maybe Madison could assist in getting the nursery ready. Wendy woke up with excitement she noticed that Mike was still passed out in bed next to her. He didn’t even look like he moved at all. She quickly got dressed and ready and by the time she was done Madison had arrived. She advised her of what happened when Mason went number 2 last night, Madison smiled and stated this will occur anytime this happens so she is anxious to see what happens if it occurs today. Madison also gladly accepted getting the nursery ready while Mason was still sleeping and when he napped today. She had a feeling it was going to be needed sooner rather than later especially if she thought was going to occur when Mike woke up. Wendy was off to court and Madison began to prep the nursery in the guest room. She worked quietly as she didn’t want to wake Mason or Mike up she also grabbed an adult pull up to prepare as since Mike had regressed again she knew he may wake up wet. The room was a beautiful girly pink, Madison set the bassinet up and stocked the changing table with diapers they were so tiny but with how young Mike was going to get they were needed. She put all the princess decorations on the wall and then went to check on Mike and Mason. She opened the bedroom door and saw Mike passed out and noticed sure enough the wet spot on the sheets. She rustled Mike awake, “Wake up sleepyhead, looks like someone had an accident.” Mike awoke groggily and confused as to why Madison was in his bedroom. “Where’s Wendy?” asked Mike. “Wendy had to get to court early remember she told you this yesterday,” said Madison. “First things first Mike I think we are going to have to watch today and lets get you cleaned up. Why don’t you go take a shower while I go get Mason.” Mike still confused at how this could happen listened to her and went to shower. Madison smiled knowing full well if Mason went potty Mike would be needing assistance real soon. She walked in Mason’s room with a smile, Mason was just waking up and he saw his nanny looking at him. “Morning Maddi,” squealed Mason. She asked if he would like to sit on the potty knowing full well he must have a full bladder from sleeping. He may have a wet diaper but that didn’t stop him from releasing his bladder into the potty. She clapped for him and said lets go put a new sticker on your chart knowing what would happen next. They put the sticker on the chart and just as that was done Mike had walked past the room he was now 20 years old and just as he was walking by he suddenly lost control and peed himself on his towel and on the awaiting floor below. Madison and Mason looked in wonder, Madison knowing this was going to happened and Mason in shock. Mason yelled, “Daddy went pee pee, he need diapers.” Madison had to control her laughter, “Oh Mike its ok go to your room and I will be right there.” Mike just didn’t understand how this could be happening and went to his room. Madison let Mason go play and went to the bedroom she grabbed her bag, it was time to put Mike’s chart up. Madison entered the room where Mike just stood in shock waiting. “I just don’t understand why this is happening, Madison. I can make it to the potty on time I swear,” Mike exclaimed. He has no idea why he just called it the potty. Madison’s nurturing extinct came out, “Don’t worry Mike I’m sure this is nothing, why don’t we just put this on to be sure. Mike was astonished there was no way he was wearing the same protection his son was wearing. “Why do you have a bag full of things and why is there a second chart with my name on it,” Mike asked scared of what the answer would be. “Oh, Mike I always have these as a precaution and the chart I think will be good for you to help Mason,” said Madison’s reassuringly. Mike looked at her pleadingly hoping she wouldn’t put the pull up on him. For some reason Mike was feeling very submissive and suddenly felt like he should listen to Madison. He lied on the bed and Madison got to work. First she grabbed the powder and the wipes and made quick work. Then she slid his legs through the holes of pull up and pulled it up to his waist. “See that wasn’t so bad, was it?,” Madison said to the frightened adult. Mike just looked down and felt even more babyish now that he had a pull up on. “Madison do I really need a chart too?” said Mike. Madison started pinning up the chart and stated, “Its for the best don’t you want to help Mason succeed in potty training. I’m sure you will get all stickers so there is nothing to worry about.” Mike sulked already feeling like it was going to be a long day, he walked out of the room forgetting his past life of working and went to watch TV. As he passed Mason saw him and said, “Daddy you have pull up on just like me.” Mike just kept walking into the the other room. Madison walked into the play room and sat down with Mason. “Now Mason can you keep a secret,” asked Madison? The boy nodded. You see your dad is having some issues with making it to the bathroom and may not be as big of a boy as he used to be. You shouldn’t probably call him dad anymore but think of him as your brother,” whispered Madison so Mike couldn’t hear her. “So is he like my baby brother since I make it to the potty and he don’t,” Mason said excitedly. “Kind of but don’t make fun of him ok,” smiled Madison. “Otay Madi” replied Mason. Mike sulked watching tv for the next few hours, he felt he should be doing something but couldn’t remember what. Madison popped in a few hours later to check on him to see if he had to go potty. “Mike, how about we try and go potty, you haven’t gone in a few hours,” said Madison. His pull up seemed a little wet but he figured he would try. He sat on the potty and not even realized he released a stream in to the potty. Madison clapped and said good job now lets get you into a new pull up cause this one seems a little wet. “Did you even feel wet, Mike?” asked Madi. Mike was silent he had no idea. They walked into the bedroom where they walked over to his chart. Chapter 3 Mike looked at his chart with disgust, he didn’t need to be potty trained. “I don’t want the same dinosaur stickers as Mason, I want my own,” sounding very childish Mike stated. Madison was in shock but she didn’t think the next transition would be so easy. She smiled, the only other stickers I have are these Disney Princess stickers,” said Madison. Without giving him a chance to fight she put one of the princess stickers on the chart. With that another chill ran over Mike, as changes began to occur. HIs muscle tone became less defined and skin became softer. His hair started to grow just a little bit longer. Mike was oblivious to the changes. Madison smirked on the inside knowing the fun was just beginning. She left Mike and went to check on Mason. Mason ran up to Madison stating he had to go to the potty. She placed him on his potty chair and out came the poop. She knew Mike would be regressing at least another 4 years in the other room. He would be a teenager now but she was sure he also would have another accident. Sure enough she heard crying in the other room. Mike looked to be about 16 and his pull up was soaked and had tears running down his face as he was sobbing unintelligible words. Madison ran over to console him, “There, their sweetie its ok, it’s just an accident. Why don’t you come with me and we will get you changed.” Mike was still inconsolable as Madi guided him over to the bed and laid him down. She got her bag out and pulled the only thing out that she could think of that might calm him down, a pacifier. She slipped it into his mouth and natural instinct went into effect as Mike started to suck on the pacifier. Madi made quick work and changed Mike for the 3rd time since he woke up. Mike finally calmed down but continued to suck on the pacifier as it was really calming. Madison guided Mike into the play room she thought it might be better if he played with Mason while she got lunch ready. Mason didn’t even say a word about Mike sucking on the pacifier but was happy to have a friend to play with. Madison went into the kitchen to get lunch ready mac and cheese and chicken nuggets. She questioned whether she should serve MIke’s food just like Mason’s, she ended up serving it on the same type of plate but would test a regular cup with Mike. She proceeded to go get the kids for lunch. She strapped Mason in his high chair and put a bib on him and then told Mike to sit at the table, he was just standing waiting looking frightened and still sucking on the pacifier. As they ate lunch it was clear Mike was becoming a very messy eater getting mac and cheese all over his face and his clothes. She walked over and said Mike, I think someone needs this as she clipped a bib around him. Mike was speechless but started whining. “I don’t need a bib, why are you treating me like a baby.” “If you keep whining I will feed you myself, now be a good boy and finish your lunch. Make sure drink your milk as you haven’t had anything to drink yet,” said Madi sternly. As Mike went to take a drink from the glass of course he tipped it too much and the milk emptied all over Mike and the floor. Madison knew she should have put it into a sippy cup. She cleaned Mike went over to her bag and grabbed a new pink and sparkly sippy cup, poured milk into it and handed it to Mike. “I’m not a girl,” Mike said reputedly. “Do you want a baby bottle instead,” Madi replied knowing full well what the answer was. “No,” Mike said dejectedly. After lunch she brought Mike to the potty. “I think we better at least try and go potty just to be safe and I think someone needs a nap afterwards,” said Madi. She placed him to sit and she waiting and waiting. “I can’t go, Madi under pressure.” said Mike. Madi obliged and left the room and sure enough she heard a tinkle in the toilet. “See I knew you could do it, sweetie.” said Madi, “Let’s go put a new sticker on your chart.” They went to the room and put another princess sticker on the chart and Madi watched more changes occur. Mike’s hair grew even longer and his hips widened, his chest blossomed to that of a 16 year old. He didn’t think anything of it as it just seemed normal. Madison guided Mike to the bed and said let’s take a nap you’ve had a long day. Mike suddenly felt tired and went to sleep. She went to get Mason ready but first put him on the potty again before his nap. Her method was quick and Mason was becoming quickly potty trained he would get his surprise soon and Mike would become Mikayla, Mason’s little sister. In the meantime Mason went potty again and it was time for another sticker before his nap. They placed the dinosaur sticker on the chart and in the other room sleeping away Mike regressed to 14 years old. Mason was put down for his nap and Madison went the nursery to finish up her work. Hopefully the rest of the story will be done soon.

Usagi felt absolutely ecstatic tonight. It was going to be a great night that was for sure! Her parents were currently out with friends and said thst they weren't going to be back until around midnight or so. She had the entire house to herself. The blond Odango haired teen, finished picking out her favorite romantic DVDs to watch with her friends. Usagi had everything her friends would like, potato chips, poki sticks, soda and numerous other choices of junk food to snack on. She currently wore a pair of matching pink pajama bottoms and pink top with white polka-dots. A knock at her bedroom door made the leader of the Scouts turn around and that's when she saw Rei Hino, one of her closest friends, standing in front of the slightly ajar door. Her soft, pale skin tone made her stand out in a crowd. Her rich, black locks framed those brown doe eyes perfectly. To top it all off, she wore a loose, white laced, sleeveless pajama top, showing her belly button and a pair of loose fitting pajama pants. Her bedtime attire looked absolutely adorable on her. "Hi, Rei!" Usagi smiled holding a few DVDs." "Don't tell me that all we're going to do is watch TV." Rei wondered aloud. The pigtailed Senshi sweat dropped. "Umm, no. I mean, we'll do other fun stuff besides watch movies." Before Rei could reply she was interrupted by Minako and Ami who were in the middle of a conversion as they walked into the room together. "I just got dumped yesterday. So, I really need this. Hopefully, Usagi picked out a good romcom with a cute lead." The blond scout wore her hair in short bangs in the front and left it long and flowing in the back. She sported a baggy, collared pajama top with matching bottoms. Both featured blue stripes running vertically down them. "You've gone through more boys than I have read books, but I hope you're right. I hope tonight is fun." Ami smiled as she followed behind her friend. She wore a matching light blue top and bottom that made her short azure hair stand out. "Minako, Hoshi dumped you?" Usagi asked. "Yeah, but I don't want to talk about it. Can we watch a movie?" The blond with the red bow in her hair asked, hoping to take her mind off of her latest break up with a good movie. "Come on, girls. We can do better than that. Who wants to go up against me in Tekken?!" Makoto announced as she held up the newest copy of the game. The night was filled with girl talk and plenty of snacking while Makoto handed out a digital ass whooping to any scout who attempted to play against her. Only Usagi could come close to give the girl in green shorts and a tiny green t-shirt a challenge even though Rei was the one with a background in martial arts. Sadly, that knowledge didn't translate into the video game and she couldn't match Jupiter's martial arts prowess. However, Usagi was giving Makoto a damn good match as the two fought diligently, Usagi was mashing the controller with everything she had, but before the match could be decided, the television went black. "Hey?! What happened?!" Makoto looked around the room and noticed that the windows were filled with a blinding white light. "I was about to win!!" Usagi whined. "What's going on out there?" Minako asked as her fellow scouts ran over to the window. The scouts looked out the window, searching for the cause of the disturbance when everything started to feel weird. Time suddenly stopped to a stand still as the light enveloped the scouts and caused each girl to pass out simultaneously. A lone figure, originally obscured by darkness stepped out of the shadows and grinned as they watched each girl fall to the floor. "Phase one, complete. Now I just need to enact the spell on them and mold them to the master's design." To Be Continued... Read the rest on my fanbox. Can't be posted on Patreon https://daymare.fanbox.cc

Author's Note: Hello there, and welcome to the second entry in a series of ABDL-themed superhero stories. This is meant to be connected to my previous story, Real Heroes Wear Diapers: The Diapered Avenger. ..... To be perfectly honest, I'm still not entirely used to this. Recently, I've been through some... changes, for lack of a better word, and I'm not sure how I feel about them. On the one hand, I've been able to do some great things, and I feel like I'm making the world a better place. The only problem is the downsides are kind of... okay, they're really embarrassing. My name is Katie Mystikerin, and this is my story... An Unusual Magical Girl: Princess Padding I guess it all started three weeks ago. I'm just your average girl with dark skin and curly hair, and I had just started my senior year of high school. It was in the afternoon, and I was in the middle of some homework when I heard my little sister Alice come into my room. She had a few tears in her eyes. “Sissy, I had an accident...” She mumbled, pointing to the faded print on her Pull-Up. Alice had been potty training for a while, and even though she was almost four, she was still struggling. I got out of my desk and went over to comfort Alice. “Hey, don't worry. It's only one accident. You've been doing a lot better with staying dry and making it to the potty.” I said reassuringly as I took her to the bathroom. “You'll make it to big girl underwear like me someday.” I added while I tore off the sides of Alice's Pull-Up and cleaned her up before taking out a dry one for her to step into. Alice smiled as soon as she was in a fresh Pull-Up. “Thanks, Sissy!” Even though she was having trouble with it, she still didn't want to give up. It was kind of admirable of her. And dealing with her wet Pull-Ups was still better than changing her poopy diapers. Before I could get back to my homework, I noticed a faint glowing outside in my backyard. I made sure Alice stayed inside while I went to check on it. I followed the light and saw it was coming from a... baby rattle? Specifically, a baby rattle being held by a white teddy bear wearing a bow. Looking at the rattle, I noticed some kind of pink rock or gemstone on top. I decided to pick them both up, before I walked back to my house. I was planning to post a picture of the bear and rattle on social media to see who lost these, thinking their kid would be worried sick. I realized it was getting late, so I decided to go to bed. I had to get up early for school tomorrow. Although the rattle kept letting off that bright pink light, I still slept peacefully through the night. When I woke up the next morning, I noticed something was... different. For one thing, the room smelled like baby powder, which I only recognize thanks to Alice and some of the other kids I've babysat in the past. I got up to see if anything else was different, but I noticed something underneath my legs. I thought I had a pillow underneath me, but when I reached underneath my covers, I felt something... plastic instead. I took off the covers, and gasped when I saw what I was wearing. Instead of the panties I was wearing last night, I was wearing a big pink diaper with baby block designs on the front. Why the hell was I wearing this? Was this some kind of prank? Who would do this? I looked at the front of the diaper and noticed a yellow spot. I poked the front and... yep. I had used this thing. I had so many questions to ask. I brushed that thought out of my mind as I got out of bed and walked (though it felt like more like I waddled) over to my dresser for another pair of panties. When I opened the drawer, my eyes widened as I only saw pairs of socks and bras and not a single pair of panties to be seen. Before I could think about my situation any more, my dad came into the room. “Morning Katie.” He said as he walked over and placed a hand on the front of the diaper I was wearing. I naturally slapped his hand away. “Dad, what the hell?” I asked, understandably pissed. My Dad just looked confused by what I did. “I'm just... checking your diaper, like your mother and I do every day. Are you okay?” “Why am I wearing a diaper?” I asked the obvious question. My dad still looked confused. “Because you need them? This wet diaper sort of answers your question.” He added as he poked the front of the diaper, only making me feel more uncomfortable. “Let's get you changed.” He said as he pointed to a changing table in the corner of my room. I'm honestly surprised I didn't notice that earlier. Before I could really protest, my Dad managed to pick me up and laid me down on the changing table. He untaped the diaper and I instinctively covered my... you know. My Dad simply moved my hands away before he took out a couple baby wipes to start cleaning me up. I was caught off guard by how cold the wipes were. It really made me realize why Alice used to squirm around a lot when I had to change her. My Dad then took out a container of baby powder and started to sprinkle it all over my rear and privates. I really didn't get why he was being so casual about this. All I wanted was for this whole process to be over. My Dad took out a new diaper with unicorns on the front and unfolded it before sliding it underneath me. He soon taped it up and ran his finger through the legholes to check for leaks. After that, he playfully patted the front to signify he was done. “Alright, go get ready for school. Breakfast is almost ready.” He said as he left the room. With that, I was left alone, naturally confused by what just happened. So somehow, I'm wearing diapers again, and my Dad thinks I need them. I really couldn't think this would get any weirder. And that's when the teddy bear I found yesterday started to talk. “Hello there, Princess!” “WHAT THE FU--” ..... What did you think of the first chapter? I wanted to start with a different approach than my last story, which is why there's more focus on the diapers to start with. Next time, there will be more exposition by the talking teddy bear in question, and it'll definitely be longer than this chapter. Any kind of feedback on how I can improve is welcome. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!