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Mischief Night: The night before Halloween. October 31st was when all the kiddies went trick or treating with their mommies and daddies in their cute little costumes. The day after was either about going to church or recovering from a sugar hangover, depending on how religious you were. The night before, though? That’s when the big kids came out to play. That’s when the teenagers got to do their thing Mischief night was the night of pranks, ding-dong ditch, eggs, flaming bags of dog shit, and toilet paper. And the only costume one needed was something dark enough to blend in with the night. October 31st half the costumes were spooky and the other half were sexy. On October 30th everybody who was anybody cosplayed as a burglar. It was a night of pubescent purging before that slasher series made it a thing. When Kelly had been growing up, Halloween was a night of fanciful and fun pretend, and later it was a chance for her to pretend to be someone else. It was like the internet but in person and with candy. Halloween had become too commercialized though. That dark, terrible part of the human soul still required an outlet. Grudges had to be solved in the dark. Scores settled with a sheath of plausible deniability. Deadly sins had to be expressed. Mardi Gras was for Gluttony Black Friday was for Greed Oddly Enough, Halloween was very likely a center for Lust these nights. And Mischief Night was when Wrath was at its peak just before bursting into candy corn colored confetti. At least, so Kelly had rationalized to herself. At thirteen she put away her dollies and outgrown trick or treating. After graduation she’d decided to leave Mischief Night to kids still living with their parents. Now, in college, October 30th was just the day before Halloween and an opportunity to scout the Kappa Delta Psi clubhouse for last looks. Kelly had chaired her sorority’s committee on running the Annual Halloween Party. The decorations weren’t in place yet, that would be for tomorrow, but all the major hardware had been moved in and set up. Everything was swept and vacuumed. The stage was ready for the DJ with lighting and sound systems already hooked up. The refreshment table was set up across from the clubhouse’s open bar. All that was needed were the refreshments, decorations, and oh yeah, the people. If everything went according to plan, this would be a real banger. Kelly hummed quietly to herself. Maybe not the best choice of words; banger. She brushed back a wave of blonde hair to keep from touching herself. Or maybe “banger” was the perfect word for it. Danny said he was coming by late tonight. He said that he had something he wanted to show her. Kelly wasn’t expecting an engagement ring, but when a boy talked like that to her, it meant he had something special on his mind. What better night than Mischief Night to try something freaky? As long as it wasn’t another dude- been there, done that, too clingy, no thanks- she’d be excited about it. Naughtily she looked at the stage and imagined her and her boyfriend christening it with her heels kicked off and her panties down to her ankles, and both of them in the spotlight. Would turning the speakers on and playing some music cover the screams of delight, she wondered, or would it just attract attention? Would it be so bad if she invited an audience? There was a fantasy she’d save for later. Her panties got a little wetter with the heavy, desperate thudding on the clubhouse door. “Comiiiiing,” Kelly called out, her heels clicking. She licked her lips in anticipation. Danny really wanted this. She opened the door and braced herself, expecting him to burst through the door and throw her up against the nearest wall. She shuddered with delight just thinking about it. It wasn’t Danny who fell through the doorway. In place of Danny’s short brown hair and athletic build and tight t-shirts and jeans meant to accentuate his physique and...other things... was a lanky mess of a girl with stringy black hair who did no favors for herself in the frumpy constantly wrinkled clothes she wore. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. It is a lesser known, but no less valid truth, that nothing kills one’s libido like the sight of a childhood friend sobbing on the floor. “Marsha?” The two had been fast friends since before they were in kindergarteners. Yet, as so often happens they’d grown apart over the years. When Kelly had put away childish things, she’d put away her oldest friendship with it. It was nothing intentionally malicious, not at first. Just two paths in life diverging slowly but in radically different directions. Kelly cared more about making social connections and how such friendships might benefit her, and Marsha mostly cared about her story books and fascination stuff that- to be charitable- could be best described as ‘weird’ and ‘nerdy’. It was nothing personal. What was a missed birthday party between friends? What was several between just classmates? By the time they’d both happened to reach college, they were more or less barely acquainted strangers who made eye contact in passing every now and then. They’d never so much had an argument about it or a formal breaking things off. They’d just stopped knowing each other. Marsha looked up from her spot on the floor, in frumpy baggy jeans and a sweatshirt that masked what little breasts she had even though it was barely chilly. “Kelly?” She jumped up to her feet and dragged Kelly into a swift embrace. “Oh my god! I’m so glad I found someone! I’m so glad it’s you!” Kelly did not return the hug. “Hey...Marsha. What are you doing here?” For Marsha’s sake it was probably best that she couldn’t see the disgusted expression on Kelly’s face. “The party isn’t…” she hesitated. “Isn’t till tomorrow night.” What Kelly had wanted to say was, ‘The party isn’t for people like you.’ It was for Greeks only. Not even pledges could attend, and no way had Marsha found a Sorority to accept her. There was just no way. She wasn’t even interested in those kinds of things. “What party?” Marsha asked, and pulled herself back. “Oh who cares?! That’s not important!” A party? Not important? “Marsha. What the fuck are you talking about?” She sniffed. Marsha smelled nice, despite looking like she’d been crawling around in somebody’s attic all night. The baby powder scent was a little basic, but it was doing its job of masking unpleasant odors. Almost. Kelly couldn’t tell. “Kelly,” Marsha sniffled, holding back sobs. “I...I found it. I found the Thirteenth House!” She was both excited and utterly terrified. “The Thirteenth Hou..?” Kelly away from the taller girl. “Marsha,” she said. “Marsha, Marsha, Marsha. How did you fall for that?” Marsha ran around to meet Kelly’s gaze. “I didn’t fall for anything, Kelly! I discovered it! Me and my new friend-!” “My new friend and I-” Kelly corrected. She wasn’t a stickler for grammar, but she wasn’t putting up with this nonsense. Not tonight. “My new friend and I,” Marsha repeated, “we found the Thirteenth House!” “No you didn’t,” Kelly said. “Thirteenth House doesn’t exist.” The Thirteenth House of Old Sorority Row was part myth, part urban legend. Just a bunch of bullshit about a wannabe Sorority House that was also a bunch of wannabe witches that all went crazy and killed themselves or were killed by an axe murderer or something. Or it was a fire. Or it was a cover up by the University. Different people told the story differently, but it basically amounted to a spooky haunted house that witches used to live in before they all died for some reason and nobody knew where the haunted house was anymore. Every town had its own ghost story. College towns were no different. Kelly just didn’t think Marsha would be one to buy into all the hype. Not at this age. Did she think she was two or something? “You gotta believe me, Marsha insisted. “We found the books!” “That’s nice,” Kelly sighed. She turned again and started walking back to the door. Time to show the nutter out. Her lip curled in disgust. She was becoming annoyed to the point where any chance of horniness had faded. Maybe Danny could bring that back if he got here in time, but if Marsha was still here when he got there there’d be no chance whatsoever. “The night buses are still running, right? You’ll be able to make it back to your dorm.” “I can’t go back to my dorm!” Marsha screeched. “It has a crib in it!” Kelly stopped and her childhood friend took the time to circle back around and re-establish eye contact, this time with tears flowing down her cheeks. Kelly heard more than just the stomping flopping footsteps as Marsha maneuvered back and fell to her knees. The crinkling, rustling sound coming from the stringy haired bitch’s pockets also caught Kelly’s attention. “Are you fucking high or something?” Kelly asked. “Is that it? Did some weirdo get you to try shrooms or acid for the first time?” If that were the case Kelly didn’t know whether to respect the girl’s courage and doing something halfway normal for a college girl or to spit on her for expecting Kelly to tripsit at the drop of a hat.. Marsha was so hysterical that she didn’t seem to hear Kelly’s question. “We found the books! We found the books that lead to the house! Then we got past the guard cat and did the ritual and signed the contract. Except...” “Except what?” Kelly had no idea what Marsha was talking about. Girl was definitely tripping. “Except I got scared and didn’t finish the ritual!” “What ritual? What are you talking about? You sound like a little kid trying to explain their favorite fucking cartoon! You sound like a friggin... baby!” A crack of lightning. Strange. It hadn’t been cloudy out a few minutes ago. Marsha got off her knees and scooted backwards into a corner like a dog trying to avoid a bath. “A baby? Why would you call me that?! Why would you say that?” Kelly snorted. There were far worse things she’d wanted to call Marsha. “Is the magic starting to affect you, too?” For some reason, Kelly’s eyes noticed that Mary’s pants looked...bulkier...puffier, like she had several extra layers of underwear, or she’d tied a sweater around her butt and then hiked up jeans. “Magic? What magic?” she scoffed. Another crack of lightning followed by a roar of thunder. “My magic,” a new voice said. Both girls whipped their heads around to the suddenly open doorway. The girl standing in the doorway was more conventionally attractive than Marsha. Straight brown hair drifted to her shoulders, crowned by a black pointy hat. The orange and black striped knee high socks went into fierce looking black heels. It was a day early, but the girl was definitely pulling off the ‘sexy witch’ look. The little black slip of a dress hugged her curves and highlighted her breasts. If Kelly were still ‘experimenting’ she’d have been tempted. The only thing off was the bit of black and white padding coming out from beneath the dress’s hem. What was that? The intruder practically sashayed right past Kelly like she wasn’t even there, and Kelly’s ears twitched hearing the exact same crinkle she’d heard before coming from Marsha’s pants. This was the drug dealer. Strangely enough, she also smelled like baby powder. Even more odd, the dress didn’t look like it had any pockets on it. Where was that light rustling noise coming from? “Hello, Marsha. Did you really think you’d get away?” She leaned over and pinched Marsha on the cheek, flashing Kelly her white panties with black cat silhouettes in the process. Getting a full look at the girl’s underwear made Kelly realize that those weren’t panites she was wearing. “Is that a diaper?!” Kelly didn’t know whether to laugh in delight or scream in mockery. The witch girl stood up. “Yes,” she said. “Yes it is.” She looked down at herself. “Kind of hard to tell, though, now that you mention it.” With a flick of her wrist, the hem of her dress flared up and outward, putting even more of the diaper in plain sight. There was no doubting what she was wearing now. Just like that, Kelly’s temptation evaporated. “How about now?” “Cute trick,” Kelly said, “but you need to leave.” “My name’s Zora, by the way.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “Don’t care, Zora. You need to leave. This is Kappa Delta Psi property. Get out.” Even though she was waddling and smelled like a toddler, the witch girl displayed boundless confidence. “And you are?” “Don’t-!” Marsha cried out. Too late. “Kelly. And I’m in charge.” A twinkle- a literal twinkle, a spark of light- came to the witch girl’s eyes. “Oh, I like you. Are you also a friend of Marsha’s?” No. Not really. Not anymore. “Yes. We grew up together. I don’t know what you’ve got her on, but you’re ge-” The stranger interrupted by clapping her hands and bouncing on her toes. “Oh my goodness! That’s great! Now Marsha’s got two friends who have known her since she was in diapers!” Kelly cocked her head over to the side. “Excuse me?” The intruder snapped her fingers and pointed like a gun at Marsha. To Kelly’s amazement and Marsha’s utter horror, a sparkling trail of gold zipped its way from the witch’s forefinger onto Marsha. Marsha stood up from the corner, rising shoulders first like she was a puppet being dangled from its strings. Just as her head popped up, her pants went in the opposite direction. Kelly felt too confused to be afraid. “Why is she wearing a diaper?” Zora stepped out of the way, a magician revealing the prestige of her trick. “Because she’s a big baby. Like me. Like you.” Kelly ignored being included in the statement. She was almost mesmerized by the big puffy diaper hanging from her old friend’s hips, decorated with childish pictures of frogs eating flies. “Why is it...” she stopped and frowned. “Why is it drooping?” “Because it’s wet.” Kelly’s hand shot up to her lips, trying, and failing to suppress the laugh. Marsha was wearing a wet diaper? That was both sad and hilarious! “Don’t feel bad, I got changed before I followed the tracking spell I put on you.” “Okay,” Kelly finally said. “What’s really going on?” It was easier for Kelly to believe that Marsha had found someone who was into Chris Angel bullshit and that Marsha had gotten into pantomime than it was to believe she’d witnessed even a hint of ‘real’ magic. Marsha was totally the kind of kid who would have fallen in with the theater nerds. “Weird old magic with weird old catches.” Zora said the same way someone might explain something completely mundane like local news or the weather. “Stuff like ‘Magic is for babies’ was a warning it turns out. I’m already an infantilist, so it doesn’t bother me. Marsha chickened out at the last moment. Lessened the cost for me, but got none of the good stuff.” Kelly’s brain immediately latched onto the weird ‘i-word’ that this stranger had said. Where had she heard that before? “Excuse me? You’re an in-what?” Was that a sex thing? It sounded kinda like a sex thing. “An adult baby. Literally now.” Zora’s voice drifted off near the end, smiling to herself. The term ‘adult baby’ rang a bell. Kelly knew enough about it to know that it totally grossed her out. Great. More kinky bullshit. Thank god Danny wasn’t into this. “Okay, Marsha. I’m done. Bye bye. You and your new buddy can go away. Forever if you’d like.” “We will,” Zorra smiled. “But you’re coming with us.” Marsha was already blubbering in the corner, apologizing profusely. Meanwhile, Kelly inhaled deeply so that she could release a string of expletives to properly cuss out both Marsha and this new brown haired bimbo in one long winded tirade: Really tell them where they could shove their wet adult diapers but good. The witch’s pointer finger was faster than Kelly’s insults. She hadn’t even decided whether she’d call Marsha and Zora the ‘b-word’ or the ‘c-word’ when a flash of golden light shot out of Zora’s finger and straight into Kelly’s face. Kelly felt herself falling, collapsing to the floor as Marsha screamed. Just before she lost consciousness, she could have sworn she heard a cat’s purring, and felt her panties somehow getting thicker. “Time for a nap-nap. Playtime after.” **************************************************************** Zora drew a tiny white card off the top of the deck. “Oooo!” She smiled. “Double blues! Lucky me!” She moved her red gingerbread man token along the Candyland board. She clapped her hands together excitedly, and bounced on her knees, making a crinkling sound every time the back of her diaper touched her bare heels. Shoes were left at the door. “I’m so good at this game!” Marsha didn’t comment. From the looks of it, it was all she could do to stop from hyperventilating as she drew the next card and revealed it. “Yellow.” “Awww,” too bad, the witch said. “The next yellow space has a piece of licorice on it. That means you lose your next turn.” “Yeah…” Marsha knew. Of course she did. Candyland was so easy, even a baby could play it. That’s why they were allowed to do it. Through hypnotic suggestion, or drugs, or whatever weird ass mind tricks Zora was using - Kelly still didn’t believe it to be magic- the two ex-friends were limited to things that a baby or toddler might be able to do. It’s why, Marsha was now dressed in a snap-crotch green onesie with a frog hoodie; none of the girls could dress or undress themselves. It’s why after she moved her game piece and sat back down Marsha winced at a squelching sound. Marsha couldn’t keep her panties dry either. “Why are you doing this?” Kelly demanded. “The fudge did we do to you?” Swearing was out too, evidently. Despite her inability to say cuss, Kelly still spoke with far more authority and intensity than her position warranted. Real I-want-to-speak-to-your-manager energy. She’d been stuffed into a white t-shirt and pink shortalls with the same kind of baby snaps as Marsha’s onesie. Directly beneath those shortalls was a diaper with cute little carrot prints. The bunny eared head dress tucked behind her ears matched the sewn on cotton ball tail. Overall, Kelly felt ridiculous, was trying to read as confident, and was more likely coming off as whiny. “It’s your turn,” Zora said, ignoring the question. Kelly wanted to smack the pieces off the board. Instead, her hand went and picked up the card from the top of the pile. “Double red.” She moved her gingerbread token. “That’s a shortcut,” Marsha sighed. “You can travel up to big rock candy mountain.” Marsha seemed like she was more or less defeated and resigned. Was it that first blast of hypnosis that had been used on her, or was she even more of a pushover than Kelly recalled? “Oh yeah,” Zora frowned at the board. “It is.” On its own the, the token dragged itself up the special shortcut and much much closer to the finish line. “Why are you doing this?” Kelly repeated herself. Zora ignored Kelly and picked up a card. “Orange…” she said and sulked a bit, moving her piece one measly space. “Your turn, Kelly. Marsha lost her turn.” Kelly drew the top card off the deck. “Ice cream?” “That means you get to skip over to the ice cream mountain.” Marsha said, dully. “Now you’re way in the lead.” Kelly moved her piece and shifted uncomfortably in her crinkling seat on the floor, growing more frustrated. “Why did you take us?” The brown haired witch wrinkled her nose when she drew. “Green.” Her token moved forward only a single space. “Double purple,” Marsha moved up on her turn. “Me too,” Kelly said. Then she nagged, “Why did you hypnotize us?” Zora drew her card. “Peppermint,” she growled. “That sends me back to the peppermint forest.” “Why did you dress us up like this?” Kelly was trying to keep her voice level and calm but was failing. More than a little hysteria was creeping up out of her throat. The diapered witch looked confused. “I didn’t dress you up,” she said. The smile that broke out showed that she wasn’t exactly innocent. A fourth figure entered the room and Kelly’s attention was pulled away from the children’s game and yanked back into her immediate surroundings. Across the creaking wooden boards of the old sorority house, the woman with the cat ears walked across holding a silver platter of steaming Rice Krispie treats. She wasn’t unattractive, but was at least twenty years older than the college co-eds, old enough to be their mother. The wide hips and large breasts added to the matronly effect. What was strange- or stranger-, about the woman amidst the peeling nursery print wallpaper and the dusty victorian style toy boxes was her yellow eyes with the vertical pupils, and the mottled reddish, brownish, blackish pattern in her hair. High end contacts and a fancy wig. Technically, Zora had been telling the truth: the witch- Kelly wanted to call her something else- hadn’t been the one to dress them up. Her henchwoman had. Kelly had regained consciousness in the bizarre haunted looking nursery, naked on an oversized changing table. Her eyes opened just in time for the mute woman to finish ripping off Kelly’s panties and slide the fresh diaper beneath her and fastening it on around her hips. The baby clothes that followed were almost as humiliating. Almost. Kelly wanted to scream or say something, when Marsha pointed to the collar of Kelly’s shirt. “Careful,” Marsha hissed. Kelly glanced down and saw the pacifier clipped there. Unsurprisingly it had a carrot emblem on it. The one on Marsha’s had a fly. She hadn’t noticed either of the soothers before. Had they appeared or had she just been so overwhelmed or drugged or whatever that she only now realized. Kelly picked up the pacifier and inched it closer to her lips, feeling like she was playing a game of chicken. Would she be able to stop? Would she be able to spit it out? “My favorite!” Zora reached up to the lowered tray and took the first bit cereal brick held together with marshmallow glue. “Do you guys want some?” The hostages shook their heads. “Why not? Babies love sweets.” The gangly frog girl and the shorter bunny girl felt their stomachs growl and their mouths salivate. She’d said it, and instantly, they knew it was true. Darn. Now Kelly really wanted something sweet. They each reached out and grabbed a brick from the tray. Rather than the petite, gentle bites she might normally do, Kelly’s mouth practically unhinged itself wolfing down the rice and sugar glue square. Likewise, Marsha’s body had forgotten whatever manners her body had managed to pick up past pre-school. “Thank you, Sousa,” the witch said. “That’s good for now.” Hypnotism went right out the window after that. A sickening crunch rang out with the breaking of bones and the warping of cartilage. The cat lady shriveled like a raisin and howled in pain as her knees bent backwards and clothing melted into skin just so that fur could grow. Human howling became feline yowling and when it was all said and done, where once a motherly cat lady stood, a lady cat now padded over to the witch. If Kelly’s diaper was dry before, it certainly wasn’t now. “You’re...you’re really a witch.” This was real. This was all real. This was more than a prank or illusion, or subliminal conditioning. This. Was. Magic. And Zora was more than just a diaper fetishist with an extra layer of costuming. Zora ignored Kelly and the thing that now looked like a cat crawled into her lap and started to purr. “Who's a good demonic familiar? Sousa is. Yes she is! Such a pretty kitty and dommy mommy too!” Kelly looked at Marsha. “Lady Sousa of the Second Circle.. Viscountess of Temptation and Ecstasy.” “This is not my ecstasy,” Kelly said. “No,” Zora said, cuddling the thing that looked like a cat. “It’s mine. It’ll be yours soon enough when the magic finishes settling in. Then we’ll have lots of fun!” The head of Kappa Delta Psi’s upcoming Halloween party started quivering, and it was from anything but delight. “Why?” Kelly asked. “Why do this to us? You wanna be a big baby, fine. But why do this to us?” “Why would I want to be the only baby?” Zora asked. “It’s more fun with friends.” “Don’t you have other people like...you?” “I might have,” Zora said. “I will. But the vectors work best when they flow naturally and Marsha was here when the final incantations were cast.” If the wet diaper and the childish costume clothes hadn’t made Kelly feel like an incompetent child, that sentence had. “Magic is sympathetic,” Marsha explained, hands hidden in her face. “It spreads from person to person. It’s a virus that spreads through minds, memories and lives. Witches just control the symptoms.” Zora stood up, cradling her cat-thing “It started with the room. Did you really think this used to be a daycare or something? And when we completed the ritual, my good little assistant Marsha was still in the room, so I was able to share the magic with her. Then she went and infected you.” “In..infected…?” Kelly felt hot and cold at the same time. Angry and afraid. She turned on her spot on the floor and stared Marsha down. “I thought..” Marsha stammered. “I thought you’d turn into a grown-up. Take care of me.” “Probably would have too,” Zora agreed. “If I hadn’t caught up, you’d probably remember Marsha as a kid you used to babysit or something. But I got there just in time.” “She’s not my best friend.” Kelly spat. If Zora. “Hey. Do you guys wanna color, or play with blocks or something?” Kelly looked back down to the game board on the floor. “I thought we were playing Candyland?” She’d been close to winning, too. Zora walked over it, lightly kicking the game pieces away and toppling the deck of color cards. “It was a dumb game anyhow. Coloring and playing with blocks is more funner, especially for little babies like us.” Dang it! Now Kelly really did want to play with blocks and color. She couldn’t help it! Her fear and anger were overridden by excitement and relief when Zora tipped over a box filled with alphabet blocks. “Don’t worry,” Zora said. “Sousa will clean it up when we’re done.” “Mreow?” That little bit of permission spurred the girls to crawl over on their hands and knees and start building. Three blocks in, a terrible thought occurred to Kelly. Slowly, like testing the temperature of a pool, she got to her feet and stood up. The tension in her brain eased considerably. She could still stand. She took two or three steps and found that she could still walk normally; or as normally as the big diaper would allow her. Crawling had been born out of excitement, not necessity. Kelly’s vision started to wander over to the front door. “Don’t bother,” Zora said without looking up from the castle of blocks she was building. “Babies don’t know how to undo locks.” Kelly tromped over to a stack of coloring books that may or may not have been by the box of blocks a minute ago and grabbed something with Hello Kitty on the front. All of the crayons were in a disorganized bucket, so she had to settle with taking a random fistful. “Kelly,” Marsha said. “I’m s-” “Not now,” Kelly said. “I’m coloring.” “Oh...okay…” The volume shifted to almost silent. The demon cat purred. The diapered witch hummed tunelessly to herself. Marsha sighed and stacked blocks one on top of the other. Somewhere within earshot, a clock ticked. Kelly heard the quiet wooshing of cars driving by, meaning they weren’t too far from the road (and the insulation in this place sucked). Kelly pretended to color. Or was it coloring, since she was still scribbling crayons on the paper? Kelly didn’t know. Such nuance was beyond babies like her. Babies like her. She was starting to think of herself as a baby and impose limits without prompting. She turned the page and started scribbling. Red this time, like her mood. In her mind, she wasn’t going to college. School was big and scary. She’d rather be at daycare with all of her little friends. Next page. Her dorm room, she somehow knew, now had a crib in it just like it always had, filled with stuffies. Her Nanny the RA would come in and change her diaper and change her into jammies just before beddie bye. A quiet blue and a soft pink meshed well on this page. All her boyfriends throughout the years weren’t her boyfriends anymore; they never would be again and maybe never were to begin with. They were just super nice babysitters that played silly games with her; held and cuddled her when she was getting lonely without her friends at daycare. Blurple was a good color for this. Blurple was a color, right? Fists clenched tight, Kelly felt the crayons snap in her hands. Something else snapped too.. “This is all your fault!” She screamed. She hadn’t been looking at Zora. “Me?” Marsha asked. “Why me?” Kelly stood up and impotently tossed the handful of broken crayons in Marsha’s direction. “I was gonna get to see my babysit...I mean boyfriend tonight! Now, I’m stuck here, with a literal witch and being forced to act like a snot nosed little brat!” Zora snickered to herself. Marsha stood up, too. “I’m sorry, Kelly!” she tried to explain. “I did all the research on how to find this place. I didn’t really understand the magic until it was too late.” “You could have run to the cops,” Kelly said. “Or a hospital.” Her volume was rising with her rage. “Babies um…” Zora said. “Babies shouldn’t…” Now it was Zora’s turn to be ignored. “Or literally anywhere else in the whole fudgin’ world! And you come to my sorority’s clubhouse! Why?! Didn’t you get the hint back in middle school?!” “I didn’t know what else to do!” Marsha started vibrating. “Babies don’t…” “You should have left me the fudge alone and just taken your gosh darn magical punishment by yourself!” “Babies-!” “I thought you could help me!” Kelly would help her all right. Help her right into a concussion! The wooden block went zooming through the air, not unlike the shimmering gold line of magic that Zora had used. It spiked into Marsha’s head, connecting corner-first right above the eyebrow. Marsha made no reply after the block struck her. No verbal one, at least. Instead she charged head first and tackled Kelly, drilling her into the ground. Had there been a women’s football league, Marsha would have attracted scouts with that move. Ask any two public school teachers or police officers and they will tell you they would much rather break up a fight between two guys over two gals. Stereotypically speaking, two girls fighting is much worse than two boys fighting. Men will fight for just about anything: Ego. Pride. Respect. There’s escalation and de-escalation and retreating and parrying. Men will start a fight and almost immediately look for an excuse not to. When women fight, it’s for blood. Everytime. Girls fight to kill. Every. Time. Marsha rammed the back of Kelly’s head into the floorboards. Kelly started clawing at Marsha’s eyes. “Babies shouldn’t fiiiiiight!” Zora screamed. Nothing happened. Shouldn’t and don’t are two different things. Babies broke rules all the time. “Stupid! Fudging! Ca-ca!” “Selfish! Little! Brat!” For a moment each girl, completely caught up with their own bloodlust, thought that they’d broken the bones of the other. That illusion was dispelled when sparkling gold paralyzed them and the large woman with cat ears stood over their prone forms. “STAAAAAAAHP! Zora cried. “No! No! No! No fighting!” She pounded the floor. “Stop! This is supposed to be happy! We get to play games! And dress up! And be little! Forever!” Kelly’s limbs felt like they were made of putty, but she could still move her head and eyes. Was Zora crying? Panicking even? “JUST STAAAAAHP!” Kelly and Marsha were draped over the matronly cat woman’s shoulders. “Time out!” Zora sobbed. “Time! Out!” And so they were. They were taken to a room deeper inside the house. No pastel decorations or otherwise infantilized undertones lurked around the corners. Maybe the magic hadn’t transformed this section of the old house, and that’s what kept the derelict beds and chests of drawers looking like antiques. Maybe making every room of the house suited to a baby aesthetic would have ruined the witch’s peculiar sense of immersion, or perhaps she thought time out would be less terrible if there were toys and soft happy colors around. Kelly didn’t know. What both girls did know, instinctively, is that they were able to move their limbs after the cat-woman-demon thing plopped down in plain wooden chairs located in adjacent corners of the room. Neither girl said anything until after Zora's familiar left. It wasn’t immediate, either. Both sat in silence, staring at their respective corners and thinking about what they’d done. Marsha was the first to break the silence. “Sorry I did that.” Kelly didn’t reply. That didn’t stop Marsha. “Both for attacking you and for dragging you into this. I was trying to get home, but I panicked when I started ‘membering that I slept in a crib and didn’t know what a potty was for.” Crud! Now that she thought of it, Kelly couldn’t remember what potties were for, either. “I wasn’t looking for you specifically, if that helps.” “Fudge you.” Kelly looked down at her lap. “I want you back out of my life.” When this thing spread to whatever trippy mind warped altered reality scenario so that Kelly would be sitting in a playpen the rest of her life, she would do everything she could to make sure that she and Marsha were on opposite sides of the mesh. “It’s true. This was all a big accident.” “Don’t care.” They were quiet again for some time. Once again, Marsha was the one to break it. “You were a bad friend.” This seemingly unrelated comment shook Kelly out of her own bitter fog and made her look up. “Excuse me?” The gangly girl in the frog onesie had already pivoted in her chair. “You were a bad friend,” she stated plainly. “One day we were best friends, and then the next you just ghosted me and started hanging out with the popular girls. What did I do to deserve that?” “Nothing, I guess.” “Then why did you leave me? Do you know how hard it was for me to make friends? I was so desperate to be appreciated, to be liked that I started hanging around people like…” she stopped and gestured to the door. Kelly didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know why I did it. I guess I just kind of…grew out of you?” “Do you have any idea how sociopathic that sounds?” Yeah. It did. It really did. “Yeah. That was a really poopy thing of me to do,” Kelly admitted. “I’m sorry. If we ever get out of this, let’s start over. Okay?” “Oka-” Before Marsha could agree, the muted tones of Florida Georgia Line’s ‘Cruise’ started playing. It was muffled by space and separation, but Kelly would know it anywhere. She heard it at least three times a day. “Danny?” Kelly said. She stood up and followed the sound over to the chest of drawers. “Danny?” Marsha said. “My boyfriend! That’s his ringtone! My big girl stuff must be in this room.” Marsha gasped. “That means your phone is on! We can call the cops!” They couldn’t, though. The door flung open, and a brownish blackish blur cut them off. The top drawer was open, and the phone was in the familiar’s hands. “Hello?” Kelly wanted to scream! That thing was answering her phone using her voice. “Danny! He-!” Kelly was cut off when a pacifier magically jumped into her mouth. As predicted, she couldn’t spit it out. “Oh, hey baby!” The woman-cat said in Kelly’s voice. “Yeah. I’m fine! Noooo! Oh? That was tonight?” Kelly stood up and made to run and try to grab the phone. Zora’s familiar didn’t even need to turn its head to point her fingers down and send Kelly plopping back on her bottom. “MMMMPH!” A quick inspection of Marsha’s mouth found a fly themed pacifier lodged between her lips as well. “Oh? Oh really?” The demon said. Despite never hearing it, she somehow replicated Kelly’s flirty laugh. “That does sound exciting. Too bad I can’t be there. I’m busy babysitting.” A small trickle of hope. Kelly hated kids. Her boyfriend knew that. “Yes, silly, that does mean I’m babysitting. It’s not a metaphor.” “MMMMPH!” “Oh, looks like the baby needs me. Byyyyyye!” She turned off Kelly’s phone and pocketed it, giving Kelly a sly cheshire smile beneath feline eyes. Kelly used her diaper again. At least the pacifier came out. Shame she had nothing to say. The two ex-friends found themselves back over the demonesses shoulders and back in what must have been the dilapidated common area before Zora’s perverse wishes turned it into a baby playroom. Zorra stood there, not contrite as much as a crude pantomime of contrition. “I’m sorry I got upset.” she said. “Really, really sorry. I want to be friends with you, but you needed a time out.” She breathed and looked at her prisoners. “Do you want to be friends with me, too?” The two didn’t even need to make eye contact. “Yes,” they lied in unison. “Yay!” the witch bounced. “Let’s keep playin’!” The block building and page scribbling went on like it had never stopped. The prisoners quickly adapted. While building their towers and stacking and saying such drivel, like, “That’s a great tower, Zora!” and “Mine is gonna be a horsey ranch!”, a second conversation ensued in private. “Maybe he’ll call the police?” Kelly wrote in crayon on the coloring book and slid it over to Marsha. Marsha scribbled it out and wrote in. “Maybe…” “He’s smart and we had plans 2nite ” Kelly wrote. Marsha frowned and wrote in. “Danny? Danny H? Smart?” Kelly turned her huff into a sigh, and scribbled out evidence. She’d heard stuff about Danny before she started dating him. Controlling. Problematic. Kinda douchey. “Trust me.” Sousa the familiar was standing over them before she could pass the book back. Kelly belly flopped onto it like she thought she might hide it. Thankfully, the cat-eyed lady wasn’t paying attention to them; not their coloring at least. Marsha squeaked when the demon nanny bent over and carefully patted her backside. “Uh-oh. Somebody needs changies!” Zora giggled. Marsha blushed. The worst part was that it was true. The off white, almost yellow of Marsha’s soaked diaper was swelling through the seams of her frog onesie. “It’s okay,” Zora said. “Babies don’t need to be embarrassed. It’s natural. Sousa will change you.” Just like that the blush vanished. The look of disgust on Marsha’s face didn’t. She wasn’t bothered about sitting in her own piss, or even being called out on it. Like Kelly, it likely bothered her that her emotions and thoughts could be so easily manipulated. Kelly watched from her spot on the floor as Marsha was taken over to a changing table big enough to comfortably hold a grown woman. She winced while she watched the snaps on Marsha’s onesies pop off one at a time, and bulky soaked diaper ooze forward out of its shell. The onesie really had just been barely containing everything with all the swelling and pressure. Again, she grimaced at the sound of each tape being ripped off the landing zone, going off like a gunshot. Marsha lulled her head to the side, and shot Kelly a confused look. Intuitively, Kelly knew her oldest friend was staring at her and it wasn’t because Kelly was staring back. It didn’t matter to either one that Marsha was having baby wipes dragged across her from front to back. The shorter girl still on the floor looked down on herself. She hadn’t realized it, but she’d shifted her body weight up off her knees and back onto the balls of her feet. She kept her balance by leaning on her outstretched fingertips, rather like a catcher. “Oh no,” Kelly whispered. Those grimaces were subconscious reactions to building stomach cramps. Her body was preparing to do something a little more strenuous than relaxing its bladder. Another cramp sent Kelly into a standing position, her back ramrod straight and her cheeks clenched. There was no way in any circle of hell that Kelly was going to do that to herself. It wasn’t just babyish, it was completely fudging gross. “Whatcha doin’?” Zora asked. An entire wave of cramping cascaded over Kelly from the inside out. “Nothing….” Her eyes were almost as clenched as her teeth. As long as the other end didn’t unclench, she’d be okay. “That doesn’t look like nothin’,” Zora giggled. Under her breath, Kelly heard the witch say “Lucky…” Her fingers wriggling like spiders, Kelly’s hands danced all over her body. Clutching her stomach didn’t help. She couldn’t realistically hold her backside shut, not through all the soaked padding. Clumsily, she checked herself, accidentally feeling and appreciating just how full the diaper was. When had she peed that much? Had she ever stopped peeing since Candyland? She was literally no better off than Marsha. Speaking of Marsha, her diaper change had gone off uninterrupted, and now freshly padded, the big baby frog was put back down where the demon cat had picked her up from. Reeking of baby powder, she stuttered and talked to herself. “I...I...I just got my diaper changed,” she said. “I should feel gross...v-v-violated. But I don’t. I just...just feel...good. Refreshed...like I just took a quick shower or something...and...and I...I…” Of her own free will-such as it was-Marsha stopped herself from talking by reinserting her own pacifier. Zora’s hand went up. “Me next Sousa! Me next!” She grinned over to a still straining Kelly. “I don’t think Kelly is done quite yet.” Kelly had resorted to closing her eyes, and trying to both focus on the pain she was feeling and do anything she possibly could to resist giving into it. “Hey Kelly? Hey Kelly! Kelly? Kelly! Kelleeeeeeeee!” The blonde bunny baby’s eyes opened. “What?!” “Babies like us aren’t potty trained. We don’t hold it in. At all. And we don’t care if anyone’s watching.” Kelly opened her eyes and watched the cat Mommy and the witch baby’s retreating forms head over to the other side of the common room nursery. Zora was getting her diaper changed and already starting to giggle. She only managed to mouth a single word when the magical suggestion kicked in. “No.” Kelly expected her first major accident to be accompanied by rude noises. Lots of wet farts. Or her own pained groans. Probably both; a lot of both. That’s what happened in gross out comedies. Like everything else tonight, Kelly did not get what she was expecting, but neither did she get any form of true mercy, either. The last bit of her diaper’s crinkle rank out as it ballooned from a massive, newly added weight. Her body adjusted, with her lightly spreading her legs and then bending her knees. Her hands automatically found a comfortable spot resting on her thighs. Then came the pop, pop, popping as the snaps all along her inseam and the fully loaded diaper sagged and pulled itself free from the confines of her other clothes, dangling off her hips. The heat and the weight around her hips grew, the pain inside her diminished. What had started as an unconscious body reaction, ballooned into a choice with the rest of her oversaturated padding. She wanted it out. She needed it out. She needed the pain to stop, and this was the only way to do it. Her skin itched all over as the last of her dignity settled into her backseat. She’d have been lying to herself if she thought the sigh that accompanied was anything but pure relief. At least she was next up to get changied. A painful voice brought her out of her own stupor. And like a drowning victim being brought up for air, the sudden gasp only made what followed more agonizing. “Kelly?” Kelly felt the weight of her padding swing around with her. Her jaw threatened to go lower than even her diaper. “Danny?!” Her boyfriend stood in the doorway, completely aghast, looking around the giant nursery. He looked out of place with his short brown hair, athletic build, and frankly normal adult clothes. She should have told him to run. She should have told him to take her with him. What came out of her mouth was, “How?” “I thought you were cheating on me,” Danny said. He stepped farther into the old house and closed the door behind him. “So I followed you on the tracker app I installed on your phone. But this? Wow.” Under normal circumstances, Kelly would have been shocked and more than a little annoyed that her boyfriend was violating her privacy. More important things were at hand “Danny, I can explain, it’s just-” “How did you know?” Kelly did a double take. “Know what?” “That I’m into ABDL.” Danny’s statement was punctuated by the sound of more tapes ripping open. “I just love seeing cute little girls in diapers acting all innocent and shit.” He pulled her into his arms and she melted a little bit, forgetting how she was dressed and what was happening in her disposable underwear. He took her and planted a wet sloppy kiss. “Is this what you meant by babysitting? Looks like you’re the one who needs a babysitter.” For a moment, Kelly completely forgot where she was and felt tingly in the best way possible “I...I...I…” He whispered the worst possible words he could have into her ear. “I’ll be your Daddy little girl.” That. That word. The D-word. That’s what doomed Kelly. “D-D-Daddy?” Kelly shuddered. “You’re...my Daddy?” A perverted, almost wolfish grin spread. “You know it, baby girl.” Kelly leaned into him. Daddy was here to keep her safe and watch her and her best friend Marsha and her new friend Zora play together. He’d cuddle her and hold her and everytime she said ‘Daddy! Daddy! Look! Look at me!” he’d look. She fell to the floor, not because she lost balance, but because it was more comfy down there. She frowned, but only briefly, when she felt the solid smoosh beneath her. That was different, but familiar enough. Why did her pants smell bad? She’d already forgotten. Babies didn’t worry about what happened in their pants, and Kelly was now, always, and forever, a baby. “Uh oh, looks like somebody needs a-” Zora chimed in, and stopped. “Who are you?” “Hey there little girl,” Daddy said. He smiled and made finger guns at Zora, now freshly changed. No magic sparks came out. “Do you have a Daddy?” He noticed Sousa “Oh, that must be your Mommy. Hey. Nice costume by the way. Those contacts are killer.” Zora’s nose wrinkled like a bit of swamp gas had just zoomed up her nostrils. “What did you say your name was again?” “Oh, sorry. I’m Danny, Kelly’s Daddy.” Kelly saw the lump forming in the front of her Daddy’s pants as he introduced himself. But you can call me-” “Dani,” Zora said. It was weird. Even though it was pronounced exactly the same, she could hear the ‘i’ over the ‘y’; even imagined it with a little pink heart over it instead of a dot. “Got it,” Zora said. “You don’t look like Dani.” Hadn’t Zora asked Kelly’s name before? “Boys are too icky. We can fix that.” “Daddy! NO!” Another bolt shot out of Zora’s finger; she had the real guns. Danny’s pupils dilated and his shoulders sagged. “Sousa, take Dani here to the changing table. Extra changing.” “NOOOOOOOO!” Kelly screamed so loud that her uvula rattled. Unphased, the cat Mommy took Dani’s unresisting form back over to the changing table. Her ex-Daddy wouldn’t wake up in time to avoid being taped into something nice and soft and thick and crinkly. Her ex-Daddy wouldn’t wake up at all, in truth. With every step taken, clothes became baggie as muscle melted off of bone and facial feature softened. An unconscious sigh, or maybe it was a moan, escaped from Danny’s lips as bits of fat reallocated themselves to his chest and other things...rearrange themselves. Danny was ceasing to exist. Dani was taking shape before her old grown-up pants had even slithered down her ankles. The cause of the bulge was gone, too. “I’m thinking…” Zora tapped her chin, “pink princess?” Marsha nodded her head, enthusiastically, before noticing that Kelly was absolutely sobbing, burying her face into the floor as though the old wood would soak up her tears. “Kewwy,” she mumbled over her pacifier. “Wus wong?” “I. Want. My. Daddeeeee!” Completely gone and victim to the spell, Kelly wasn’t miserable because her boyfriend was getting stripped down and transformed not twenty feet in front of her. She was upset that she just lost her Daddy. “I’m sowwy, fwiend,” Marsha said. She started gently rubbing Kelly’s back, and that did make the shorter girl feel a little better. Her distress was more akin to losing a puppy fresh from the pet store or a toy just out of the box. It was something she’d wanted to play with and never got the chance more than something she actively loved. As if reading her mind, Zora said. “Don’t worry. We’ll get to play with Dani as soon as she wakes up for her nap. We’re all gonna be best friends.” That didn’t stop Kelly’s bawling. “And you’re gonna get changed next. You’ll feel better after that.” Kelly stopped her crying just enough to talk. “Really?” “Really really?” ******************************************************************************************* October 31st. Halloween. Four little diapered girls who weren’t so little at all were getting their last looks done for Trick-or-Treating, or as they called it “tricker treating”. It took less than a whole day for the changes to work themselves indelibly into reality. The little girl in the froggy onesie had always been best friends with the bunny girl, though the bunny girl still had a special place in her heart for her sister who was going out as a princess; with a golden tiara on her head and on her pink diapers to match. All three had a fanatical, almost cult-like reverence for their leader, the witch. “Are you sure we’re big enough to go tricker treating, Zora?” Marsha asked the head of their play group. “We’re definitely big enough,” Zora winked at her cat mommy. “And we’re not too big either.” Anyone who hinted otherwise, might very well be joining them. The magic had grown stronger, and it wouldn’t take long to take effect. Thanks to the magic, the old Sorority House was now daycare and it always had been. The legends of the haunted daycare had already worked themselves across the town’s gossip history. “Let’s go get some candy,” Kelly said, practicing her best bunny hop. “Let’s go make some friends!” Dani added, giving a delightful curtsey. The others couldn’t remember their old life, but they knew with a distinctive certainty, that they wouldn’t be the only residents of the daycare, come morning… (The End)

A Naptime on Elm Street. (A Novelization of the Oskosh award winning ABDL Horror Film of the Same Name) Deep in the bowels of the Daycare, down in the basement where Little Ones dared not come and play for fear of the dark and ghosts; two hands worked slowly and methodically. Mustn’t forget a thing. Not a thing. It would be time soon. The old carpet bag, green and red stripes faded and dingy looking from years of disuse was popped open. Empty inside; just like the person opening it. Soon though, both would be filled; first, the bag. Spare clothes came first; onesies mostly. Onesies were an outfit all by themselves, no matching or coordination required. Keep the Little Ones warm and cover what little modesty they had. They went in the bottom precisely because if she did her job well enough, she wouldn’t need a spare change of clothes. Little Ones did love to make a mess though… Better safe than sorry. Next came toys and trinkets. Nothing major. Nothing elaborate. Nothing that lit up or required batteries. None of the hulking plastic monstrosities that were called play sets that littered the Daycare’s basement. Rattles. Plastic Keys. Teething Rings. Pacifiers, too. Those all went in. Cute little shiny things...or things that had once been shiny...to keep a Little One occupied for a precious few minutes. A bottle was wedged in for good measure. Cap on. No spills allowed. Next came the wipes. Practically a wonder tool wipes were. There was very little that couldn’t be cleaned up with a few judicious uses of a wipe. Finally came the diapers. Sweet smelling, perfumed, folded, crisp and crinkling. They got the top spot right next to the wipes. Things that were guaranteed to be used needed to be easily on hand. And it wouldn’t be much of a diaper bag without diapers, would it? As for the paddle: That would be for the other hand, wouldn’t it? A small, thin smile, blossomed over shadowed lips. It was the smile of satisfaction. Soon. Soon the little ones would come and play; they would need so much caring for. Then it would be time to work. ************************************************************************************************* Tina was alone. Alone and nowhere. It didn’t occur to her in that moment how impossible that was. By definition, space and time were both facets of existence. If one existed, they had to be somewhere even if they didn’t know where that somewhere was. Only the dead and the fictional could exist in a void. None of that came to Tina, though. For all she knew or cared, she was in a blank void as she heard the baby crying. Her landscape a literal blank slate. No...not crying. The baby wasn’t crying. She was screaming. A baby girl’s scream; caught somewhere between terror and tantrum. Despite being just eighteen and an only child Tina found it oddly familiar. Nostalgic without the good feelings. Deja vu. Pulse picking up she wandered ahead, her long white nightgown fluttering in a non-existent breeze as her legs pumped. In front of her was a broken down hallway. Tight walls filled with chipped and scraped off paint. Originally- Tina somehow knew even though she’d never asked- the dim yellow paint on the walls had been bright and cheery. It had been the color of sunshine. Time and darkness; especially darkness; had worn away at the facade. Now the yellow paint- what remained-was the color of sickness. Of jaundice. Of death. Everything was scarier in the dark. Beneath her silken nightie, Tina’s bare feet plodded on. The carpet was threadbare and worn in more places than not. The very bottom fibers still persisted, like a sandpaper rash. A few spots didn’t even have that much, leaving the cold smooth cement of the foundation exposed. As she half ran, and half jogged, trying to understand how she’d ended up here; Tina’s toes curled every time they touched the rare bit of carpet that had struggled on intact. Behind her? Behind her was nothing but a bright blank canvas of nothingness. She couldn’t go there; though the exact “why” wouldn’t come to her. Sometimes things just worked that way…. A little girl lost in the woods, Tina ran down the hallway, hearing the random clacking of plastic on plastic; the sounds of playtime. She turned in a circle, pivoting on frightened feet; as if looking behind her might reveal a door, or stairwell, or some other escape from this strange place that she couldn’t remember coming to. “tina.” Perhaps if she ran fast enough, Tina thought, she might escape this realm of concrete and decay. A shuttle escaping the bonds of gravity. It didn’t make sense, but sometimes that’s just how things were. “tina.” The voice was muffled, but she’d heard it that time. Unfamiliar. Beckoning from the shadows. Laughing. Tina turned back around towards the light. Even a blank canvas of nothingness might be better than what lay ahead in the dark. Impossible. With her meandering gait, she’d only gone a dozen or so steps, yet the other end of the hallway seemed so much further away. Impossible, but true. The laughter grew louder; more confident. Knowing laughter. Condescending. An adult watching a child struggle, their hand caught in a cookie jar that they just couldn’t get out of. The laughter grew louder as Tina stayed put; erupting into a full blown cackle as Tina’s heart started to pound. This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be here... “WAAAAH!” The cry of a baby girl again! Such a familiar cry! The blink of an eye, and Tina saw that it wasn’t a child crying, but a sheep bleating. A sheep. Like what she pretended to count until she drifted off. Like the night light she used to have all the way until middle school when she’d decided it was time to put away childish things and just go to sleep in the dark. It’s white wool was cast in pitch black by the shadows as it skittered away, running for its life. “BAAAAH!” “HEEE-HEEEE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEEE!” Tina ran off to the side, neither towards the sheep nor the bright light at the end of the hallway. It didn’t matter that there hadn’t been a hallway or door for her to exit. It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t have been able to run; that there was no room in that wretched hallway. All that mattered was that she ran. She ran, and it was away from the knowing, witch like cackling. That’s just how things were… The world changed again. No longer a hallway, but a playground. Blackness above her, there was no sky. Blackness beneath her, there was no ground. But directly beneath her feet was the blue steel meshed floor of an elevated walkway so common at playgrounds and parks. Steel was not nearly so stainless, as the soles of her feet grazed by bits of rust. Hands trembling, she instinctively grabbed onto the safety bars at the edges, rather like the bars of a crib. The air, such as it was, stank of stale urine; an accident that had long dried and never been properly cleaned up. Someone had peed in the ballpit. Surrounding her were plastic tubes and slides jutting out at impossible angles; a veritable jungle of plastic trunks and styrofoam noddle vines growing thicker with every step she dared to take. And all with the hollow thunks and muted skids, and slapping patters of tiny hands and knees crawling and rolling and sliding through them. No laughter though. No mirth. Just the unsteady non-rhythm of a playground’s blood being pumped through hollow plastic arteries. She wasn’t supposed to be here… A movement in the dark! Tina ran! Past a built in rung ladder she sprinted. No going up! She wanted to get out, not up! Up would only lead back down. Ladders only went to chutes! She looked over her shoulder at the sailor’s wheel! She could spin that wheel as much as she loved and would get nothing but the howling and screeching of badly oiled joints. She would go nowhere. She would win no prizes. Out! Had to get out! She was lost! Lost on the playground! Just like long ago when… No! Don’t think about it, Tina. Just get out! Keep moving! Rounding the corner, Tina looked over the edge. Monkey bars, and a gymnasts rings dangled on the next section over, the ground still invisible in obsidian. She was high! So high off the ground that she couldn’t see it! Keep moving. Must keep moving. Come, the monkey bars seemed to beckon her. Come down to our level. Swing from us and dangle your feet out over the abyss. Get tangled up in the ropes and nets and chains and rings. Deep, knowing, feminine laughter accompanied the shadow that flitted below Tina. It knew what she thought. It knew what she imagined. It knew what she heard with only her heart; her heart that was beating faster and faster by the second. Another corner. Another turn in a maze that made no sense. Ladders and struts that went nowhere. Fireman’s poles that plummeted downwards into emptiness. Whirligigs and pinwheels that spun on their own. And just Tina in her nightgown… Tina shut out what little light there was in her life and stepped through the shadowy tunnel. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the plastic give a bit beneath her weight. Where was the light coming from anyways? To say that Tina was brave implied like she was afraid and faced the danger anyway. This was simply not true. Even in this maze of unending steel twisting and turning, Tina felt she had only one choice but to go forward. Even with all the topsy turvey and movement and sound and winding and crisscrossing of the paths; Tina had never, in effect, left that hallway. Not really. Rrrrrrrring! A chime! A bell! The start of something! School? A race? Tina spun around towards the metal dinging. The sound of nails on a chalkboard! Behind her! Another blink, and Tina stood in front of a curtain; worn and moth eaten like everything else in this place! A withered, wizened hand peeked from behind the curtain and began to peel it back. Tina didn’t wait to see who was behind it. Tina ran. Tina sprinted. She didn’t see the old straw sunhat with desiccated flowers poking out from the brim. And yet... And yet Tina didn’t get far. She’d walked only a dozen or so steps before and somehow traveled over a hundred yards. Now as she ran for her life, those same legs were carrying her less than a dozen strides. The air, still thick with the scent of old ammonia, seemed to constrict her; the ground conspired against her like a treadmill on reverse! Tina was running as fast as she could, but her world crawled by at a leisurely pace. Panting just to keep her breath and her legs pumping, Tina didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Too out of breath. The most she could do was tremble and mewl as the person...the thing with the red and green bag creeped along up to her. She didn’t question why. Sometimes things were just like that… Tina looked back over her shoulder. She shouldn’t have done so. A dirty brown sunhat filled with dead flowers and a matching ankle skirt. A dingy off-white victorian ruffle blouse, that contrasted with gray-black oxford block heels. And a green and red bowtie that coordinated perfectly with it’s partner bag. A bag in one hand, and a rough, splintered paddle in the other; dragging and scraping the floor as she walked... A weak, muted squeak managed to leak out from Tina’s throat, just as she rounded the corner. Must escape! Must escape! Too late, Tina realized she was trapped. A dead end. A criss crossing lattice blocked her way; a giant baby gate! More impossibilities! This was the way she had come, wasn’t it? Frustration and adrenaline bubbled over to unsilence her terror in one high pitched scream. “AAAAAAAAAH!” It was the bleating of sheep. The cry of a baby girl. And it was indistinguishable from Tina’s own wail. And then silence. Tina breathed. And listened. Nothing. No footsteps. No shadows cast of sun hats or paddles. Behind her! A hand on her shoulder! Another reaching between her legs! “LET’S CHECK YOUR DIA-!” *********************************************************************************************************** Tina shot bolt upright in her bed; her face and dirty blonde hair drenched in tears and sweat. A knock on the door, and her mother entered. “You okay, Tina?” It was late. No trace of sunshine, no buzz of late night television. Mom was wearing her robe which she only put on when craving (or fetching) a two A.M. snack. “Just a dream, Mom.” Muscles tight. Breath short. But at least her voice was calm. Just a dream. Just a dream. She was home. In bed. Like she should have been. Her mom stepped into the room and turned on the lights. “Some dream, judging from that.” Tina followed her mother’s gaze down to her legs. It wasn’t just her face that was soaked, and it wasn’t sweat that her legs were soaking in. Sweat didn’t smell like that, nor did it make the sheets quite so cold and clammy on an otherwise crisp fall night. She sat there, paralyzed by embarrassment and leftover shock from the bizarre dream she’d awoken from; stupidly peeling the sheets from her legs and off her, as if it might somehow undo the accident she’d just had. Mom’s boyfriend, clad in a wife beater and boxers (a wardrobe not that much different than what he wore during the day) leaned in. “Are you coming back to the sack or what?” he grumbled impatiently. Mom gently shoved him away. He looked at Tina, regarded her for a moment, and went back out into the hall. At least he had the decency not to comment further about her soaked mattress and wet sheets. Either that or he was too drunk to notice. Tina’s mom looked back to her. “Tina, hun, you either gotta stop drinking so much before bed or stop that kind of dreamin’.” She glanced to the hallway. “One or the other.” And with that, she closed the door, allowing Tina some much needed privacy. Tina got out of bed and stripped the sheets from her bed. Her nightgown was just as ruined. They all went together in a giant pile. She’d stuff these into the washing machine, grab the stain remover and febreeze from the laundry room, and try to get back to sleep with some fresh sheets after a quick shower. But first she went over to her sock drawer and dug out the old sheep night light she’d never quite had the heart to get rid of. Just in case…. *********************************************************************************************************** Ten, nine, better watch your behind. Eight, seven, gonna learn your lesson. Six, five, never gonna thrive. Four, three, in your pants you pee. Two, one, Nanny says you’re done…. -A traditional jump rope song passed down from kid generation to kid generation since time immemorial. ************************************************************************************************************* Tina couldn’t stop talking about it the next morning all the way to school. “And even after I woke up it was like she was still there, watching me.” She shook her head. “Sounds like a real boogeyman,” her best friend, Nancy said. “Like that old jump rope song: Ten, nine, better watch your behind.” They piled out of Glenn’s car. Glenn was Nancy’s boyfriend, and Tina being Nancy’s bestie got to ride in the back on the way to school. Seniors were allowed to drive to school and park their cars in the parking lot. That meant that they didn’t have to worry about catching a bothersome school bus like the kiddies. It also meant they could sleep in a little later. There were perks to being a senior. Not that it mattered. “I’ve been having bad dreams too,” Nancy added; a note of commiseration in her voice “Even after I got changed into fresh sheets, I couldn’t go back to sleep,” Tina confessed. Tina cocked an eyebrow as they walked. “Fresh sheets? Do you mean…?” “Awwww,” Rod creeped up from behind, “did you wet the bed, baby?” He laughed. No one else did. Rod was a jerk that didn’t realize how sleazy his slicked back hair looked or how Axe Body Spray was no substitute for a good shower. “Don’t feel bad, I have wet dreams, too.” As if to drive the point home, he pumped his fist up and down. Tina and Rod were...complicated. If he wasn’t such a good lay, they might not be dating off. She could have ignored him, just then, she supposed, let him walk with them, but she just did not have time for his shit today. Not after last night. “Jizzing in your pants would require you to have balls,” Tina quipped, barely looking back at him. Something sparked in Rod’s eyes. “Yeah...yeah...well...fuck you too!” Rod was that special kind of masculine that was neither quick witted nor thick skinned. He broke off from the trio and walked away, and would likely invent a comeback after. Nancy and Glenn laughed quietly, but otherwise didn’t engage. They’d seen this scene play out too many times. Tina looked back over her shoulder to make sure her kinda sorta beau was well and gone. “Rod says the sweetest things,” she said. “Yeah. Real keeper, there.” Nancy replied sarcastically. They came to a stop just outside of school. “So anyway,” she asked, “what did you dream about?” Misery loved company. At least she wasn’t the only one tossing and turning at night. Nancy just said, “It was just a bad dream, okay, that’s it. That’s all they are.” Glenn, his arm draped over Nancy like a coat, spoke up. “Yeah, and next time you’re having a bad dream just remind yourself that it’s just a dream and you’ll wake right up. That’s how it works for me, anyways.” The bell chimed it’s dull electronic tone, signalling the beginning of yet another day of educational drudgery. Glenn and Nancy kissed goodbye, and Glenn jogged ahead of glass. Nancy and Tina had English first period; near the front entrance. Glenn had math near the back of the building. Something just then occurred to Tina. “Hey!” she called after Glenn. “Did you have a nightmare too?” Tina filed that idea away and turned back to Nancy. “Maybe we’re gonna have a big earthquake or something. They say that weird things happen just before.” Nancy didn’t laugh, but she did smile a bit. Arm and arm the two went to face the perils of dead poets and playwrights. Little did they know it would be the last time they’d walk into school together... ************************************************************************************************************ “Thanks for staying with me here, tonight,” Tina told her friends. “When my Mom told me she was taking off to Vegas with her boyfriend, I kinda freaked.” She and Nancy sat on the couch, easing into each other, while Glenn sat on the floor, texting away on his phone. “Glenn and Nancy to the rescue,” Nancy assured her. “We got your back.” All day, the dream about the playground and the shadowy figure stalking her had been with her. In some ways she’d never really woken up. “It’s so cool that your mom let you stay the night, Glenn.” “Yeah,” Glenn said. “About that…” Nancy laughed a little bit. Tina threw him a questioning look. “So, I’ve got this cousin who lives by the airport,” he explained. “Mom’s cool if I hang out with him. As far as she knows, I’m with him.” “But what if she tries to track your phone?” Tina asked. “That’s what I'm working on. I think I just downloaded an app that disables that one. Hold up…” Tina leaned forward and watched as Glenn texted. Nancy just hid her face in her hand and quietly shook her head. “Here...at...Barry’s…” Glenn read his text as he typed it. “Noisy...as...hell...but...fun…” Glenn looked up from his phone to the girls, a cocky little smirk on his lips. “I think she believes it.” He looked down and grinned. “And the app is working!” He pumped his elbow in a bit of celebration. His glee didn’t last long. “She wants me to send a picture of me and Barry right now! FUCK!” He turned off his phone. “I’m...gonna have to do some explaining...hope Barry can cover for me.” “Busted!” Nancy laughed. Glenn just shrugged. “Worth it. I’ll probably get chewed out. I’ve been chewed out before.” More laughter, this time from all three. “See?” Nancy said. “I told you you’d feel better with some friends around.” “Yeah,” Tina said. But the moment passed. “It’s just that all day, I keep thinking about this lady and her weird face, and thinking of that big paddle.” Something akin to confusion and suspicion flashed in Nancy’s eyes. “Paddle?” Silently, Tina nodded. “That’s so weird that you say that,” Nancy said. “That makes me remember the dream I had last night!” Unlike Tina, Nancy sounded lighter for saying it. As if the two girls having the same nightmare was mildly amusing instead of foreboding. Tina sat up a little straighter. “What did you dream?” “I dreamt about a lady with a grody green and red bag. She looked like one of the nannies on T.V., but creepier.” Neither one saw the look on Glenn’s face. It was as if he was hearing about his own troubled sleep. “What about the paddle?” Tina pressed. Nancy bit her lip in thought. “Oh yeah, she had a paddle. It was like one of those things you see in hazing or like BDSM stuff, I guess, but it was really rough. Homemade, and splintered at parts. She’d drag it along the ground or thump it on things. It looked like something she made herself.” Nancy kept her tone upbeat. It was just a stupid dream after all. “She kept dragging along the floor and it made this sound like kghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” She made the back of her tongue go up against the roof of her mouth and exhaled. Done fast it would have sounded like a poor impression of walkie talkie static. Done slowly, it was eerily similar to the quiet groaning of heavy wood dragging across the floor. “Nancy,” Tina whispered. “You dreamed about the same freak I did.” Glenn came to join them. “That’s impossible.” KGHHH…. The trio looked out the window into the darkness. “What was that?” Tina asked. Glenn stood up. “Nothing…” KGHHH… “I heard it too,” Nancy said. The three young adults stood up and cautiously opened the side door into Tina’s backyard. Glenn was the first out into the darkness. “Anybody there?” The girls came out, still staying just a few steps from the door. “Hello?” Glenn repeated. Still there was no answer. “I’m gonna kick your ass…!” If anyone was listening, they didn’t believe Glenn’s threat. Even Glenn, wholesome All-American type that he looked didn’t sound like he believed it. “Here kitty kitty kitty!” Still nothing. Nancy’s boyfriend turned around and started walking back towards the house. “Probably a racoon or someth…” The shadow that enveloped Glenn and brought him to the ground was fast, and strong. Bigger than Glenn and meaner. And reeking of Axe. “Boom!” Rod said as he climbed off of Glenn. “What a tackle! What a sack!” Ignoring Glenn he sauntered up to Tina, holding the old broken table leg left nearly forgotten in Tina’s garage. “Kinda creepy huh? The way it scrapes across the patio.” He let it drop clunk into the grass. “You should have seen his face,” Rod laughed thumbing over to the other boy. “YoU sHoUlDa SeEn HiS fAcE,” Glenn parroted back, mockingly. Immediately the two were in each other’s face, chests puffed out and chins held high. Tina grabbed her boyfriend by the elbow. Time to diffuse the situation. “We’re having a sleepover. Girls only. Glenn was just leaving.” Rod backed away but clearly wasn’t buying it. “Your Mom home?” “Of course.” Tina lied. “What are you doing here.” Rod pivoted to her. “I came to make up. Came to say I’m sorry.” His grin was nothing short of wolfish. He saw right through her. He always did. And the look on his face told her that the blood was quickly going down south. “You guys having an orgy?” “Just keeping me company,” Tina said. Already she was letting herself be led back into her house. Already, she was starting to relax and tense up in all the right places. Rod had that effect on her. It might be nice to have a creep of her own to protect her from the lady in her nightmares… “Hey,” Glenn called out. He froze when Rod turned around. “Relax you two. We’ll get her mother’s bed. You two can have the rest,” then ducked out of sight. “Seriously,” Tina said, her petite blonde frame still in the doorway. “Stay. You make me feel safe. Don’t leave me here with this luuuunaaatic!” Tina’s last word was cut off by a fit of giggles as Rod returned and started to cart her off to her mother’s California King. Left alone, Glenn realized just how pretty Nancy looked in the moonlight, and how much better she smelled than Tina’s creeper of a fuck buddy. “Glenn, no.” Nancy pushed him away when he leaned in for a little fun. “Not tonight. We’re here for Tina.” She ran her hand through her curly brown hair. Glenn felt his attitude deflate with his dick. “Why? Who cares? It’s just a bad dream.” “Because we’re her friends,” Nancy said. “She needs us. We gotta be mature and not fuck around.” ********************************************************************************************************* Glenn laid there in the dark of Tina’s living room. The couch made a poor bed and the living room a poor bedroom. He could hear Tina and Rod going at it through the walls. Neither were quiet about it. Blue balled beyond belief, Glenn could only sulk at the soundtrack to the two horny highschoolers getting it on. Meanwhile, he knew Nancy, pure and mature as ever, slept in Tina’s room. “Maturity sucks.” ************************************************************************************************************ Nancy slept in Tina’s bed, blissfully unaware of the sounds coming from the other bedroom. But she was not blissful otherwise. Nor was she unaware. Not totally. Eyes closed, and breath steady, Nancy did not dream. But she did have the peculiar feeling that something, or someone was watching her. She didn’t hear the wall above the headboard creek and moan as it warped. She didn’t see it become thin like puddy and mold itself into a humanoid shape. She didn’t feel the warmth of another not-quite-body looking down at her, bending over, reaching out like a woman readying to scoop her baby out of a crib…. When she rolled over and opened her eyes, the wall was completely normal. Nothing out of the ordinary. Over the side of the bed, Nancy noticed a little lamb nightlight, lying there on the floor. She hadn’t seen this in years. She would have thought Tina tossed this away with her training bras, but her old friend never had outgrown her fear of the dark. Maybe that’s why she still had a waterproof sheet on the mattress. Or maybe that’s why her bathroom smelled faintly of baby powder. Maybe this bedwetting thing was more persistent than Tina was hinting at; the bad dreams just a justification. Nancy took a moment and plugged the old night light in. Just in case. She took a moment to touch and push against the wall, too; confirming that it was solid. Just in case. She gave it a few quiet knocks. Just in case. *********************************************************************************************************** PLINK! Tina awoke in her mother’s bed, the sound of pebbles hitting glass making her jump. She looked over to Rod; still sound asleep and snoring. Rod was practically a machine in the sack, and orgasming was his off button. It’s one of the things she liked about him, actually. Sometimes a good lay really is what a body and a troubled mind needed. It has also been nice, hearing Rod confess he’d been having nightmares. “What? Guys can have bad dreams too. You don’t have the market cornered.” He gave her a final kiss, before “No more bad dreams for either of us now.” That was about as emotional and open as Rod could get. In a way, Tina had been proud of him; the emotionally stunted mal-adjusted idiot. PLINK! Another pebble, this one harder, stopped Tina from rolling over and rejoining her boyfriend in unconsciousness. Definitely a pebble, too. There were nor branches from nearby trees long enough to scrape at the glass. “Rod?” she tried shaking her boyfriend awake. All she got was snoring for her trouble. PLINK! PLINK! She rolled back towards the window and started to sit up. “tinaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” It was a whisper, a nagging bit of paranoia scratching at her brain. A sound carried by fear more than air. Picking Rod’s shirt up off the floor, she slipped in on over herself; it’s bagginess preserving her modesty as she padded over to the window. PLINK! A flash of purple. Not a pebble. But a...ball? A plastic ball, like in a children’s ball pit rocketed up to the window. PLINK! The next one,red, left a crack in the glass. Tina held her breath and leaned closer; feeling the break in the glass for herself. What could do THAT with a plastic ball? It was full dark outside. No stars. Whoever...or whatever...still lay in the shadows. And somehow, Tina knew it was waiting for her. “tinaaaaaaaaaaa!” Tina stepped back. It knew her name. It had come for her. Eyes staring straight into the abyss just outside her window, Tina dared to say “Who do you think you are?” She paused. No answer “Whoever you are…” The poor girl didn’t feel very brave, just then. Only fools weren’t scared, however. She took some comfort in that. Tina couldn’t say why she left her mother’s bedroom and turned on the back porchlight. It’s just what happened sometimes. She didn’t know why she didn’t call the police, either. The flashing lights of a cruiser and an officer at her door might scare away whatever was out there. Or they’d just think it was a prank and ignore her… Sometimes things were just like that…. Clad only in a pair of panties and Rod’s shirt, she switched on the lights, and ventured outside the safety of her home. No going back now. “Somebody there?” “tina!” The reply was short and crisp. An adult losing her patience with a particularly stubborn child. And like the stubborn child whose will was finally waning, Tina wandered outside in short uneven steps. Out into the dark backyard. Out into the darkness. “Tina…” louder this time. A growl or a groan. A muttering maybe. A beckoning, definitely. On toddling, uncertain steps, Tina kept going towards it. Past the junk in her backyard, and by the old rusted playground her dad...her real dad...had set up for her when she was little. Couldn’t have been older than three. There was something oddly familiar about those gymnast rings, come to think of it. Out into the alleyway, she went, some dark force compelling her to find the source of her torment. The hollow rattling sound of beads inside thin plastic almost gave her whiplash as a pink hula hoop rolled along the ground and pittered to a stop. The clicking of heels on pavement made Tina spin again, and the silhouette of a sunhat took Tina’s breath away. “Now….!” the figure came into the light. Her face terribly scarred, her clothes musty, as if dug up from a grave or a tomb. The dirty green and red bag slung over one shoulder; the splintered wooden paddle hanging from a strap from the other. Tina started to back away, to look“Shit…” The thing’s arms stretched out, impossibly long. Inhumanly long! Long enough that the woman stood in the middle of the road, but her fingers brushed fences on either side of the road. “Come...to...Nanny!” Her voice was gnarled and scratchy. Her smile crooked and eyes encased in shadow. Arms outstretched, she was a grotesque parody of a caregiver beckoning for a hug. “COME! COME!” Even as she walked, the paddle, impossibly large, dragged on the ground, scrapping the concrete road. “Please God…” Tina heard herself say. In a blur, the woman’s arms were the right size and the paddle in her hand. “This,” she padded the wooden club in the palm of her other wretched hand, “is God, now.” Tina ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her and it still wasn’t enough. The cackling witch behind her waved the paddle in the air, chasing after her; both moving at snail’s pace...the pace of a nightmare. She looked behind her. The hag was gaining on her! “Peek-a-boo!” The hag was in front of her! Burned hands covered a burned face, opening to reveal the giggling hag. “NO! NO! NO!” The poor girl naked save for her panties and shirt, ran back towards her house. If she could get inside she would be safe! If she could get inside she’d be safe! She ran, but now was even slower than before. Breathless, she managed to waddle out of the street and into her backyard, slamming the gate behind her. Waddle? Something was getting thicker, and it wasn’t the air. Her panties! Something was wrong with panties! Just outside her backyard, the girl stopped and lifted up her shirt. That’s why she was having trouble running: Her panties had thickened into a diaper! A diaper?! Not an adult one, but a larger version of something a toddler might wear. All the extra padding had thrown off her gait! She didn’t know why she was wearing a diaper, just then. Sometimes things just worked that way…. “Tina!” From out behind an impossibly skinny the wicked woman jumped. “Watch this!” Her voice was saccharine sweet; mockingly so. Tina stood there, paralyzed as the woman removed her thumb. An old trick. An easy trick. The most basic of slight of hand. Something that grandparents have been doing forever... until spurts of green ichor started streaming from the stump. It was good that Tina had been wearing a diaper just then. Otherwise, she might be standing in a puddle. The warm heat pooling and squishing between her legs was cold comfort, just then. The last few feet to her backdoor were an eternity. The gleeful cackling of the hag threw off her balance; not to mention the swelling Luvs between her legs. Scarred hands yanked at her shoulders; pulling her away from safety and salvation. The knob wriggled and stuck in Tina’s hands. Locked. “NANCY!” she screamed. “NANCY OPEN THE DOOR!” No one came to the door… The only one that heard her was the dead Nanny. “Naughy, naughty girl!” The last thing Tina would remember seeing was the grass and junk in her own backyard as she was pulled over the monster’s knee. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The cry sounded so much like a scared baby girl. A scared baby girl about to get a spanking. ************************************************************************************************* Rod woke when he was kicked in the ribs. “AAAAAH! AAAAAAAH! NO! STOP!” Tina screamed under the covers. “Tina?” he tried to ask, “Tina what’s wrong!” All he got in reply was Tina’s agonizing screaming...that and the sound of laughter, coming from under the covers. “I’M SORRY!” Tina yelled. “I’M SORRY! I’LL BE A GOOD GIRL I PROMISE! ROD! ROD! HELP ME ROD!” Panicked, Rod ripped the covers off his girlfriend. She thrashed there on her mother’s bed, her eyes closed and her ass up in the air. Rod stood there in his tighty whiteys, mouth agape as Tina struggled against nothing, wearing only his shirt and a… DIAPER?! The cartoon monkey on the back (and the yellow discoloration between her legs) made it kind of obvious. “PLEASE! DON’T! ROD! HELP! I’M SORRRRRRY!” “TINA” he called out. “TINA.” But Tina couldn’t hear him. In a flash, the borrowed shirt was hiked up, leaving nothing covering Tina’s backside but the wet Luvs inexplicably taped around her hips. WHAP! The sound thick wood hitting pulpy padding filled the air like a cannon shot. Tina screamed like she was being murdered...and in a way she was. “MOMMY!” WHAP! “DA-DA!” Tina kicked and screamed and thrashed as her body started to levitate off the mattress. Unable to believe his eyes, Rod went to turn on a lamp to make sure that the dark wasn’t playing tricks on him. Tina’s whirling thrashing form swinging into him more than confirmed what his eyes suspected. “HAAAAHAAAAHAAAAHAAAAHAA!” He’d heard that laugh too. He’d heard it before even. WHAP! “GAGAGAGA!” Up the walls, Tina’s screeching form was dragged. Eyes still slammed shut, she clawed at the wallpaper, trying to tear herself free as another heavy WHAP sounded. “WAAAAAAAAH!” Now she was crawling on the ceiling. WHAP! “WAAAAAAAAAH” “HAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAA!” Finally, words couldn’t even describe the incomprehensible wailing pouring out of Tina’s mouth. All throat, no lips. She sounded more an infant than a young woman about to graduate into college. She looked it, too. All Rod could do was scream her name as she was dragged along by the unseeable force until she was set gently down, wafting back onto her mother’s bed. ********************************************************************************************************** Nancy woke to screaming. Tina’s screaming. On feet that would not carry her quickly enough she ran to the master bedroom and began banging on the door. “Tina?! Tina?! TINA?!” Her knocking went unanswered. “Who did this?!” she heard Rod say through the door. “I’ll kill you! Who did this?!” Only Tina’s wails of terror and pain let Nancy know that she was alive. But who was Rod yelling at?” Glenn ran in, fully clothed, from the living room. Together they broke down the door. The brief silence lasted just as long as the crash still echoed. The room was empty. Trashed, but empty. Tina lay in bed feebly kicking at the air and crying nonsensically. An open window, the only clue to Rod’s whereabouts. Tina lay on the bed, sobbing and inconsolable, crying around her own fingers jammed into her mouth. “Tina,” Nancy said “What’s wrong?” Nancy’s best friend since childhood didn’t answer. She just mumbled and cried through tear streaked cheeks. “What happened?” More crying. “Are you okay? Where’s Rod?” Nancy was feeling less and less certain with each question left unanswered. The smell of urine filled Nancy’s nostrils, and her eyes went below Tina’s waist. Nancy had babysat enough times to recognize a Luvs, though she’d never seen one that big. She’d also babysat enough to know when a diaper was on the verge of leaking. She felt the sheets just beneath her friend. Correction...leaked. “Glenn,” she called to her boyfriend. “I think Tina OD’d or something. Something’s going on in her eyes...she’s not all there. There’s something wrong with her.” “I’ll say.” Glenn wasn’t joking. Nancy wasn’t in the mood. “Go search her room or something. Look through her drawers! Maybe we can figure out what she took!” Glenn didn’t need further direction. Nancy waited in tense silence, positioning herself so that Tina’s head was in her lap. She gently shushed her friend, and just like a baby, Tina started to calm down with just a little gentle cooing and pets to her forehead. “You’re gonna be alright, Tina. Everything’s just fine.” Even then, Nancy could hear the lie on her lips. “Nancy,” Glenn said. “We’ve got a problem.” “No shit we’ve got a problem!’ Nancy screamed. “My best friend is bawling like a baby in a fucking diaper!” “There’s more…” “More what?” “More diapers,” Glenn said. “And a crib. Changing table too…” Nancy stood up. “Where?” “Tina’s room. It’s a giant nursery.” Nancy sat with her mother in the police station, clutching a box of tissues like they were a kind of life raft. She’d called the police and told them the whole story. About how her best friend was drooling and babbling, and Tina’s boyfriend was missing from their mother’s bedroom. It was just like Glenn had said: In the thirty seconds or so since they had busted open the door, Tina’s bedroom no longer looked like something belonging to a young lady; but instead was now the home of a baby. A big one, too. It took both her and Glenn working together to lift Tina and carry her into the nursery. There, she changed Tina’s diaper- there were more than enough- while Glenn looked away. The cops came, asked a few questions; mostly about Rod and where Tina’s parents were. Then they had her and Tina come down to the station. The strange thing was they didn’t so much as comment on the giant crib or infant playmat in the corner. Nancy just sat there in silence, her mother at first assuring her that everything was going to be okay. Soon enough they had run out of things to say before Nancy had run out of tears. The door opened and in walked Lt. Donald Thompson; a middle aged man with hairline that was just starting to recede. Nancy looked up from her tissues. “Hey, Dad.” There was no excitement in her voice. No terror either. Her confusion and shock had progressed beyond excitement or fear, and slid down into a numbing iceberg. “Hey sweetie,” her father gave her a chaste kiss on the top of her head. “How are you doing?” “Bad…” Nancy let her silence speak the rest. Lt. Thompson looked over to Nancy’s Mom. “What was she doing there, Marge?” “Hello to you too, Donald.” She was cordial, but her voice was ice. The divorce hadn’t been pleasant; and everytime her folks were around each other, the same old arguments popped up...usually about how they were raising Nancy. When Marge and Donald Thompson were around each other, Nancy might as well have been eight instead of eighteen. “What was she doing?” Dad repeated the question. “She was babysitting,” Mom said. “Just making a little extra money.” “In that part of town?” Dad was incredulous. “On a school night?” Part small town cop, part father, all overprotective and judgement asshole. “Looking after Marla Gray’s kid? That drunk? There’s gotta be better ways to earn some spending money.” Nancy didn’t didn’t look up, but she felt more awake? Babysitting? Really? Was this some kind of bad joke? Tina had been attacked by something. Attacked and transformed. Last Nancy knew, Tina was still bouncing on some lady copy’s knee. “You wanna tell me what you were doing over there? With a boy?” The question through...why was THAT what they were focusing on? “The three of us were just sleeping over,” Nancy insisted. “Nothing was supposed to happen. We were just keeping Tina company in case she got scared. She’s been having bad dreams.” Her Dad arched an eyebrow. “Three? You mean that Rod Lane character was invited?” “Well, no…” Nancy said. “But he just came over and…” “So we’ve got him for trespassing, breaking and entering AND attempt to kidnap,” her father said. “Kidnap?” Nancy tried to speak up. “Rod wasn’t trying to kidnap-?” “Then why did he lock himself in the room with the baby?” There was that word again. “Baby?! Dad I-” “Is he one of those sickos?” “Dad,” Nancy almost screamed. The tears were coming back now. “What’s wrong with you? Tina’s not a baby? She’s my best friend!” Both her parents exchanged looks; they were worried. It was Nancy’s mother that spoke up first. “Nancy,” she started in low and soft, “you’ve been through a lot tonight. I know you feel responsible for what almost happened to that baby girl, but it’s not your fault. You were her babysitter and you did the right thing. You saved her. You called the cops. You asked for help. But that doesn’t mean you have to say things like you’re her best friend. Okay?” More of that numbness overcame Nancy. Numbness, dotted with fresh little pinpricks of shock and confusion assaulted her. “O...okay…” She wasn’t really okay. She didn’t understand what was going on in the conversation, and in order to do that. “Okay,” Lt. Thompson nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. “Get her home safe,” he said to her mother. “I’ll get on finding that Lane punk.” Seeming to consider the matter settled, he went to walk out his office door. “Dad,” Nancy called out. “What about Tina?” Lt. Thompson stopped rubbed his temples. “Her mother’s out of town. We’re gonna put her with CPS for now. Foster home. There’s already an officer doubling back to the scene to get diapers and blankets. Some formula. Maybe a few of her favorite toys. Mom will have to go to a judge to get her back. She’ll be okay. She’s too little to remember any of this long term.” But Tina wasn’t okay, Nancy knew. Tina wasn’t supposed to be in diapers, or sleep in a crib or drinking formula. She was supposed to be sitting next to Nancy in English class first thing tomorrow morning. Why couldn’t Mom or Dad or any of the cops see that? ************************************************************************************************************ The little television on the kitchen fairly roared out the morning news: “POLICE SAY THAT A POTENTIAL KIDNAPPING, POSSIBLY IN CONNECTION WITH A CHILD ABDUCTION RING WAS BARELY THWARTED LAST NIGHT WHEN A MAN TRIED TO BREAK INTO A HOME AND STEAL AWAY WITH A CHILD NO OLDER THAN ONE YEAR OLD. POLICE SAY THE PRIME SUSPECT IS ROD LANE. LANE ALLEGEDLY BROKE INTO THE HOME WHILE THE MOTHER WAS AWAY, LEAVING ONLY A SITTER TO DEFEND HER. LANE IS NOW THE SUBJECT OF A CITYWIDE MANHUNT. IF YOU HAVE ANY INFOR-” The old boob tube was shut off just as Nancy entered the kitchen, but she’d heard enough. The whole city, if not the world, thought that Tina Gray was an infant, and that her boyfriend was some kind of child-napper. What had happened to the world last night? Nancy and her mother shared an awkward stare; just long enough for her to get her backpack and walk out the door. Glenn was grounded, and got his car taken away. Good enough. Nancy could use the walk to school. It’s not like she needed the car now that Tina wasn’t… Tina… “Where do you think you’re going?” It wasn’t accusatory. Mom was clearly concerned. She looked at Nancy as if she were sick, not defiant. “To school…?” Nancy replied. Why wouldn’t she go to school? “Honey, you were tossing and turning all night last night. You have no business going to school today.” That first part was true. Nancy hadn’t slept a wink. Yet with how bizarre everyone around her had been acting, Nancy thought that she might be the one sleeping. There was a bizarrely comforting thought: Maybe she’d wake up. Any minute now, she’d be back in Tina’s (adult) bed, and find Glenn moping on the couch and Tina and Rod still shacked up together in the master bedroom. The more she thought about it, the more Nancy hoped it was true. That the last twelve hours or so had all been a ridiculous dream was infinitely more reassuring and far less bizarre than what felt like the truth. “I’ve got to go to school, mother,” Nancy said. “Otherwise I’ll just sit up there and go crazy.” This is why Alice kept walking through Wonderland. To stay still meant to accept the madness. To venture forward, even if it was into more madness, kept it at bay. Even being bored in English class was better than being trapped in her room, alone with her own thoughts. “Did you sleep?” Mom asked. Clearly, she already knew the answer. Nancy took on a pleading tone. “I’ll sleep in study hall.” She needed sleep, she knew. Just not here. Not now. Not while Tina’s screams still rattled around in her head. Not while she kept replaying finding the room a nursery and changing her best friends’ diaper. Not while she still revisited the conversation with Dad at the police station: CPS. Foster Home. Blankets, toys, formula. “I’d rather...keep busy, you know?” She took a sip of coffee from her mother’s mug. She didn’t want to go back to sleep. Sleep meant revisiting last night; sleep meant more of Tina’s crying and mewling. Sleep meant staring into her best friends’ eyes and them not staring back. Mom grabbed the mug back. “Right home after?” “Right home after.” Nancy promised. They gave each other a kiss, and fueled mostly by adrenaline, Nancy made her way out the door. On her way to school, Nancy couldn’t quite shake the feeling that she was being watched. That just out of sight, something was following her, trailing her, hunting her. She’d had last night, too, come to think of it. It was the feeling that someone she couldn’t see was watching over her, readying itself. A tiger waiting to pounce...or a teacher anxiously awaiting first bell to begin instruction.. Nancy stopped and looked back over her shoulder. The man in the suit and tie and sunglasses didn’t seem to be following her. He stood perfectly still against that elm tree on the other side of the street. Though what was he doing there? It wasn’t a bus stop and he wasn’t a neighbor. Not a face she saw everyday. A dozen or so steps later, she whirled her head around. Gone. Nancy was being followed. What to do? What did he want? Did she scream? Did she call for help? From the bushes behind her, a hand clapped over her mouth while its pulled her in and dragged her into the foliage. Nancy screamed in panic, not even recognizing the smell of fresh body odor and old Axe. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” Rod growled to her even as she thrashed. “I’m not gonna hurt you!” He loosened his grip, and Nancy pried his disgusting hand off of her mouth. Rod hunkered down in the cover of the bushes. Sweaty. Unwashed. Barefoot. Wearing nothing but his jeans and jacket. The shirt that Tina had been found in was collected as “evidence” of some sort. Rod looked at Nancy, eyes tired and desperate. “They’re gonna kill me, for sure.” “Nobody’s going to kill you,” Nancy said. Rod clearly didn’t believe her. Nancy didn’t believe herself. “Did you do it?” Rod looked like he was about to vomit, he was so disgusted. “Do it? Do what? Sleep with my girlfriend? Yeah, I did!” “No, not that,” Nancy said. “The other thing…” Rod looked confused. “Did you put her in a D-I-A-?” Rod cut her off. “Hell no! Tina’s not a baby! But I’m the only one who seems to know that!” “You’re not the only one who knows.” Rod didn’t reply, immediately. Instead his breathing slowed, and his eyes showed a level of gratitude that Nancy didn’t think the young man capable of. “Everybody thinks I’m a kidnapper, or some kind of…” his voice cracked rather than allow him to finish the sentence. “What happened last night?” Nancy asked. “You were screaming an awful lot.” The modern day greaser just shook his head. “I never touched her.” He let out a breath. “There was somebody else there.” Even he couldn’t completely believe what he was saying. “You were screaming like crazy.” “I didn’t do it!” “The door was locked from your side!” It didn’t make any more sense now that she was saying it, but it made her feel better to be on the offense. “Don’t look at me like I’m some fuckin’ nutter or something!” Rod proclaimed through gritted teeth.. “You think I put a big pair of baby pants on my girlfriend, spanked her padded ass, and then snuck out and made everybody think she was a baby?” Not when he said it like that. The whole thing was getting more difficult to believe by the minute. Wait a minute…”Spanked?” “Yeah,” Rod replied. “Kept hearing this slapping sound, right on her butt. She kicked and screamed every time...till she didn’t.” His eyes got hazy, reliving the moment. “But it wasn’t me. Somebody else did it. And when I find ‘em I’m gonna-!” More movement. A familiar figure in a police officer’s uniform. A gun drawn. “Just move away from her, son,” Lt. Thompson said in a low, even voice. Rod looked and saw the gun pointed at him. Arms up, slowly he stood. Nancy too. “Reeeeeal easy, like your ass depended on it,” Nancy’s dad intoned. Like his ass depended on it. A poor choice of words. Police sirens squealed out even as Tina’s (ex?) boyfriend darted for the street. “Hold it!” Lt. Thompson called out. Nancy stepped in front of her father, covering Rod’s barefoot escape. “NO!” He was innocent! She couldn’t prove it, but she knew Rod was innocent. Him being guilty would have meant that Nancy didn’t understand how the world really worked. “Jesus Christ!” her father cursed, lowering his gun. Running fast on tired legs and sore bare feet, Rod didn’t make it far down the street before the first police car cut off his escape. He didn’t make it ten feet before the second blocked his retreat and he was surrounded by men with guns. Rod was a lot of things: Most of them bad. An escape artist wasn’t one of them. Nancy had to watch as Rod was held at gunpoint, slammed on the ground, and cuffed. “I didn’t do anything, Nancy! I promise!” That last outburst wouldn’t look good for him n court. Rod wasn’t behind whatever happened to Tina. He wasn’t smart enough. He’d been following Tina and pulled her off the street because the whole world was out to get him and Tina was the closest thing he had to a friend, just then. A realization came over Nancy. Whether people thought of Tina as an adult or not, Nancy was on the shortlist of people that Rod might try to contact. “Daddy!” she followed her father out onto the street. “You used me!” “What the hell were going to school for, anyway?!” It wasn’t a question as much as an accusation. Again, she wasn’t Nancy the eighteen year old, but Lt. Thompson’s little girl. And little girls didn’t go to school after a scary punk broke into a house where they were babysitting. There was nothing to do. Nothing to do except walk away. “NANCY!” her father called after her. She ignored him, instead focusing on the sound of Rod’s struggling as he was dragged to the squad car. “NANCY! NANCY!” *************************************************************************************************** “What is scene,” the English teacher said, “is not always what is real.” That was a real mood. Mrs. Morgan had watched Dead Poets Society about three too many times, and was always trying to be profound and inspiring, but often her lectures came across as a dramatic monologue, more than an English Lit class. This was doubly true now that the class had shifted into its Shakespeare unit.. Still, the lady had a point. Slumping forward in her desk, Nancy lulled her head to her side. Somebody was in Tina’s seat. Somebody Nancy didn’t even know. But no one missed Tina or remarked about it. It was like that seat had always belonged to the boy sitting there; or that Tina had never been in school with them at all. “For example, in the final lines of a Mid Summer Night’s Dream,” Mrs. Morgan continued, “Shakespeare has Robin Goodfellow assure the audience, as well as the main characters that they ‘have but slumbered here, while these visions did appear, and this meek and idle theme no more yielding but a dream.” Ugh. More dream talk. More sleep talk. Mrs. Morgan was walking around the classroom as she spoke. Making Nancy’s desk in the back of the room less than idea for catching a few winks. “That and considering that he also has the famous play-within-a-play scene; where his actors play villagers badly playing mythic characters while OTHER actors play mythical characters as audience members making jokes about how poor the acting is, all in front of an ACTUAL live audience…” she paused for effect, “Well frankly, nothing is as it seems. It was very ‘meta’ at the time.” That actually got a polite chuckle from the rest of the class and a tired, quiet groan from Nancy. “Shakespeare was actually fascinated with the power of dreams, stories and illusions,” Mrs. and how they affected people, turning illusion into reality. From MacBeth’s soliloquy on life being a walking shadow, to some of his later poems, Shakespeare compared life itself to a story, and noticed how mankind broke itself down into the same repeated patterns and roles again and again. Theater and stories were both illusion AND real to him.” “John?” she said. “Will you go ahead and read, please?” The guy sitting in what used to be Tina’s desk stood up and walked to the front of the class. No page number was given, but everyone looked down in their books. Sometimes things just worked that way… “At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” The new boy read flatly, and uninterested. Like he wasn’t used to the sound of his own voice. “the whining school-boy with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly to school.” Somehow the guy was managing to make this worse. Did he know what words were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t have to go full theater geek or nothing, but read with a little feeling. Nancy closed her eyes. This was having the opposite effect. She closed her eyes... “the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow.” John’s voice was literally about to put her to sleep. The palm of her hand was almost a pillow by this point. A new voice called out. “Nancy…?” The high school senior’s eyes popped open. It couldn’t be! It had to be! There in the doorway, clad in only an obscenely used Luvs, her tits hanging out and her hair tied up in little ribbons, was Tina. “Nancy…” she sat there, just outside the classroom, splay legged and diaper bulging light yellow and deep purple. Deep purple for the decorations printed on the outside. Light yellow for what had been put inside and soaked through and discolored any patch of whiteness that might have remained. “Nancy…” Tina smiled, like it wasn’t the name of her best friend but a new word she was trying out for the first time. She reached both arms out and up, like a child wishing to be carried. “the whining school-boy with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like a snail Unwillingly to school.” Nancy looked around the class. Didn’t anybody else see this? But nobody was looking at the doorway. No one else had heard the big baby calling out for attention. To make matters more bizarre, the new kid was apparently backtracking. Lost his place. Nancy looked back to the doorway. No Tina anymore, just a puddle of piss where she had been. A giant baby with a VERY leaky diaper. The reader’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper… “And finally the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms.” The kid hadn’t just lost his place, he was starting over. Except he didn’t keep reading. He hadn’t lost his place. ‘First’ was now ‘finall’, too. He was going backwards. All the way to the lover section of the poem, and then backwards to school and then infant. Nancy stood up as he finished reading, a knowing not-so-gentle smirk on his face. He said nothing more. The rest of the class kept staring at him. The teacher too. No one stopped her from walking out into the hallway, over the puddle that Tina had left. Sometimes things just worked that way… Stepping out into the empty hallways, she saw the not-so-little girl just rounding the corner, drips and dribbles still coming out from her legs; the leak guards long having failed. “Tina?” Nancy called out. But if Tina heard her name, she didn’t respond. She just shuffled and crawled out of sight, leaving a wet trail behind her. Rather like a slug… The hall was empty too. And even though some of the classroom doors were open, there was no sound coming through them. Nancy didn’t know why. Didn’t care either. Sometimes things just worked that way… Tina! She had to find Tina! Following the trail of urine, the senior broke into a run. “TINA?!” She rounded the corner! WHAM! The girl’s sprint was cut short as she collided with what must have been the only other person in the hallway: A pudgy girl with dark black hair and a red and green sash. A hall monitor, of all the antiquated juvenile things! Some students were given the sash and patrolled the halls on off periods, running errands for the front office or playing security guard... Both girls went down to the floor. Fueled by adrenaline, Nancy was easily on her feet first. She looked down at the hall monitor. The girl had a bloody nose and her hair up in pigtails of all things! What self-respecting young woman would have her hair up in pigtails? If Tina had had long enough hair, she’d likely have her hair up in pig-tails right now… The little girl hairstyle combined with a pleasantly pudgy face wasn’t doing anything to make the monitor seem any more authoritative. She sat there on her ass, splay legged and clumsy looking; just like Tina had been a moment ago. Speaking of Tina, Nancy might have been wrong, but there seemed to be something of a swollen bulge coming from between the young lady’s legs. Almost like... But no… No it couldn’t be... “Where’s your hallpass?” the monitor demanded. She seemed unfazed and unconcerned with her bleeding nose. Nancy felt her throat start to close up with anger. “Screw your hall pass,” she growled, walking right past the stupid twat. She broke out into a jog; then a run. “HEY NANCY!” The voice from behind her wasn’t the nasally, whiney voice of the hall monitor. It was older. Deeper. Nancy looked over her shoulder. The hall-monitor was up on her feet again. A gleeful, sadistically playful look was on her face, which was now bleeding from more than just her left nostril. She patted a large, heavy looking paddle in the palm of her hand. “No running in the hallway!” It wasn’t her voice, but the older, raspier one. So was the laugh that followed. No time! No time to ask questions, no time to formulate a quip! No time to deck this wanna be cop in the face! She had to find Tina! Had to follow the trail! She went past an open locker that was so stuffed with teddy bears that they were overflowing out the hallway and piling up like the leaves in fall. She ignored the faint breeze and the scent of lavender baby powder. Had to find Tina! She made a right turn down the stairs. She couldn’t remember if there had been a downstairs before; but it didn’t matter right now. HAD TO FIND BABY TINA! And the stick trail of quickly drying pee was doing just that. There in the dark, gray, almost dingy light, at the bottom of the stairs, Nancy found a sign. It read: “PLAY PLACE! NO GROWN-UPS ALLOWED!” The balled up diaper just by the door was a pretty good clue. Good that someone had at least changed her. Wasn’t it? Ignoring the sign, Nancy stepped forward and opened the door and went in. Turning and taking her, she placed her back to another door, this one made of glass. An old yellowed room decorated with the tattered remains of children’s crayon scribblings laid behind her. But Nancy paid it little mind. What caught Nancy’s attention was the simple, moth eaten curtain in front of her. Nancy felt it call to her, invited her. With a singular swift motion, she tore back the barrier. Just as promised, an indoor playground lay behind it; perfect for a child to frolic and get lost in. Stepping forward past the curtain, she heard the door softly click behind her; so soft that part of Nancy wouldn’t have been surprised to look back and find that the door didn’t exist. There was a kind of heat here; one of energy and motion. It was the same kind of heat from a gym; where no matter how high the AC was turned up, people’s body were radiating energy. Same might be true for an indoor playground. “Tina?” Nancy called out, stepping from the solid concrete and onto the metal mesh of the playground. Such a dark playground, too. Impossible darkness above and below. No more ceiling, just monkey bars and gymnast rings. Her voice did not carry like she’d hoped it would, and she only got the sound of raspy breathing in reply. That, and the same off feeling of some unseen force watching her. Not like this morning after breakfast either; more like the feeling she’d gotten just before Tina’s bed stopped being a bed. No more walls in this place either, just play-tunnels and slides and tubes. Old ones, from the looks of them. Nails and old screws jutted out at odd angles from improper construction and overuse. Nothing like this would ever get past a safety inspector today. “Tina?” Nancy called out, her voice with a hint of hope in it. Please let her be here. Please let her be here. The place had a low thrumming noise, like a heartbeat. Unseen through the vast network of plastic arteries, children crawled and scurred through. No laughter though. No calls of ‘Tag! You’re It!’. Other than the occasional rattle of a body moving through thick plastic, the kids were quiet deathly quiet. Maybe not kids, Nancy thought. She looked around. This place was big enough to accommodate adults...or at least children her size. Tina’s size. Nancy stopped; her eyes being drawn to the sound of the raspy breathing. “T-Tina?” She no longer sounded (or felt) quite so hopeful. When the scarred witch with the red and green bag stepped out of the shadows, Nancy knew she had every right not to be. “Who are you?” A devilish smile blossomed across the disfigured face. Nancy washed as the woman opened up her white blouse and exposed her nipple. As if in answer, the ghoulish woman kneaded her breast slightly. That wasn’t milk coming out of her nipple. Milk wasn’t green. And the laughter that came out of her wasn’t human. The woman rebuttoned her blouse and opened the bag slung over her shoulder. Even at a distance, Nancy could see something white, rectangular and folded peaking out. She didn’t need two guesses to know what it was. A jagged, splintery padde held overhead, the monster woman slowly advanced on Nancy, her square heels clicking on the metal; her intent clear. A paddle, and a diaper bag. First one. Then the other. Nancy quickly pivoted and peeled back the curtain, finding only cement walls to block her path. She juked and ran sideways, deeper into one of the playground’s walkways. Even though she sprinted, she somehow knew she wasn’t getting away. Even though the undead Mary Poppins followed at a slow, leisurely pace, Nancy couldn’t help but feel as if a cold chill was breathing down her neck at every twist and turn she took. No time to think. No time to plan. Just move and turn. Move and turn. Left or right. It didn’t matter. Sometimes things just worked like that… Such a weird logic. Nancy didn’t normally think like this. Not when she was awake anyways. Nancy had been correct in one thing, though; it didn’t matter which way she turned. A dead end found her; and right on her heels, still walking at the same knowing, predatory pace, was the woman with the paddle rounded the corner. She cackled with glee and dragged the paddle along the ground, letting it’s low thudding scraping sound join the hum of the playing children. She gave it a practice swing and a low whoosh went through the air. “Gonna get you,” the shadowed hag taunted. Closer she came, as if savoring every moment. “Nanny’s gonna get you!” Her words were playful, her tone was not. Back against the wall and with nowhere else to go, Nancy realized why she’d been acting so strangely. Things DIDN”T just work like that. Not when she was awake! “IT’S ONLY A DREAM!” she screamed. It was as defiant as it was desperate, and did nothing to stop the woman with the paddle. She’d paused and looked down at the carpet bag filled with diapers, apparently savoring the moment and envisioning what was to come. “Come to Nanny...” she beckoned. No! Not like this! Not like this! Filled with frustration, the young woman’s anger overcame her fear. “GODDAMN YOU!” She got only puckered lips and blown kisses for her shrieking. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the play-tunnels. Old and rickety, with rusted screws and nails sticking out still from either wear and tear or improper manufacture. Necessity being the mother invention, it gave Nancy an idea. If this was a dream. If this really was a dream then… Without thinking or deliberation she slapped her arm on the nearest piece of jagged, crying out in pain as the rusted metal pierced her flesh. “AAAAAAAAAAH!” Now her voice echoed along the empty structure, deafening out all other sounds as the nail tore open her flesh. It was a little cut, but it hurt like something else. “NAUGHTY!” The woman cried out. Her paddle dropped to the grated floor. A burnt hand reached out to grab her “BE CAREFU-!” **************************************************************************************************** “NO! NO! NO! NO!” Nancy was in hysterics! She stood up from her desk and thrashed her arms, flailing and screaming at her attacker; even as the rest of her class turned around in their seats and stared in amazement at her. “I’M NOT A BABY! I’M NOTTA-!” She didn’t open her eyes, even then. It wasn’t until Mrs. Morgan rushed and grabbed her by the shoulders that she opened them. “OK! OK! THOMPSON!” Her last name! Children didn’t get called by their surnames. Nancy froze; fully awake and the center of attention. “I’ll-I’ll call your mother.” Nancy kept her eyes on her teacher, slowly starting to catch her breath. “Everything is alright now.” Wordlessly, Mrs. Morgan tried to guide Nancy back to her desk. Nancy planted her feet and backed away. ‘No,” she said. Even as she did it, she started to pick up her books and collect her back pack. “I’m okay.” “You sure?” “I’m fine.” Again, her teacher asked, “You’re sure?” Not quite believing her. It was fair. “Yeah,” Nancy repeated. “I’ll go straight home.” It took everything in her not to break down and cry right there in front of everyone. Somehow, Nancy found the strength. Somehow, her teacher seemed just as shook. “You’ll need a h-hall pass.” Nancy ignored her and walked out the door, this time turning towards the exit instead of going deeper into the school. She really didn’t want to know if there were stairs further down the hall and to the right; yet alone where they led to. Just outside the school, right past the steps of the front entrance, Nancy let out a sob. She couldn’t say whether it was from fear or relief; not that it mattered. A dream. It had all been a dream. Just a dream. But if it was ‘just’ a dream; why did she have a cut on her forearm right where she’d slammed it against the metal? That afternoon, the holding cell was cold and hard, but not sterile. There was a feeling of dingy, almost moldy wetness in the air, even though not a trace of the stuff could be seen or smelled. It had all the cold and clinical feelings with none of the safe sterility. The bars were a kind of graying green. How odd, Nancy thought, that something meant to confine and restrict would be the same color as the Statue of Liberty. Looking at each other through opposite ends of the bars, Nancy and Rod spoke in quiet hushed tones as the bored guard went to take a dump. “And then what happened?” Nancy asked. “I told you,” Rod said. “It was dark but I’m sure there was somebody else in there.” Rod sounded tired and exasperated. The police interrogators had probably asked him the same questions. The only difference was that the cops in no way believed that a hundred and twenty pound B-Cup wearing Tina Gray was more than a year old. “How could somebody be in there without you knowing about it? Exasperated as she was, Nancy knew the truth. She just didn’t believe it herself. In some wild way she was hoping poor stupid Rod could do it for her. “The door was locked.” “How the fuck should I know?” Rod was equally perplexed and considering he was being charged with kidnapping (among other things) he was infinitely more frustrated. “I don’t expect you to believe me anyway.” He retreated to the back of his cell and stared at the stainless steel toilet. “What did he look like?” She leaned up against the bars. “Did you get a good look at him?” Rod looked up and back around at Nancy. “No,” he said. He sounded more than a little sad. Anger and regret and exhaustion all blending together into a terrible cocktail. Nancy felt her frustration bubbling up. She whacked the bars, a fussy toddler in her crib, and started pacing. She was on the right side of the cell door but still felt trapped. “Then how do you know somebody else was there?!” “Because somebody spanked her while I watched.” Rod moved back to the door and leaned in as far as the iron would let him. Nancy crossed her arms, not looking directly at her best friend’s boyfriend. “And you didn’t even get a good look at him?” “I couldn’t even see the fucker.” He shuddered at the memory. “I could just see it happening. Hear the smack. See her diaper flatten out in the back with the paddle.” Paddle?” Nancy looked right at him. “What do you mean?” Rod’s voice went hollow, a tinge of fear in his voice. “My old man used to spank us,” he said, “before we learned how to throw a punch. My baby brother, too. I know the difference between a hand, a belt, and a paddle. The sound, the mark, the pain. This was a paddle. It was a big one, too. Rectangle, like they do at Frats or the movies or whatever. The kind that hits you down there but really knocks the wind outta ya.” His eyes came back to the present and he looked at Nancy. “You know, I probably could’ve saved her.” His voice cracked. “But I thought it was just another nightmare...like the one I had the night before.” Nancy didn’t speak. Nancy just listened. “There was this…” he hesitated. “There was this lady. She had this huge paddle; more like a club, really. It was too big, but she carried it around one handed, like it was easy. Like it was a toy.” Nancy’s skin began to crawl. This sounded familiar. Too familiar. Far too familiar. Just like what Tina had been talking about last night. Just like what Nancy had dreamed. And Rod had neither been around nor been told about either of those. On the verge of hyperventilating, Nancy started to walk away, towards the door back out to the police station proper. “Hey,” Rod called out, sounding weary. “Do you think I did it?” Just before she banged on the door to be let out, Nancy told him the truth. “No.” It didn’t make either one of them feel better. ***************************************************************************************************** The water was hot in the tub that evening. Hot enough to boil a lobster. Hot enough to cauterize the already scabbing over scratch on Nancy’s arm. Hot enough to destroy all the aches in her body from a perpetually bizarre day. Nancy lay there up to her neck in the clear hot water, her head propped up by a bath pillow. “Ten, nine, better watch your behind,” she sang in tired lackadaisical whisper. She turned the washcloth over her in hands, her eyes half closed. She wasn’t washing herself as much as wringing the thing like a wet teddy bear. “Eight, seven, gonna learn your lesson.” Such a weird little jump rope song. It seemed oddly appropriate, somehow. Strange how dreams and reality so often lined up. “Six, five, never gonna thrive.” Thrive. A fancy two dollar world meaning grow and mature. Funny considering she’d been dreaming about strange women carrying around paddles and diaper bags. Tina wasn’t thriving anymore... Nancy only half-knew it, but she was putting herself into a kind of trance. The rhythmic sing-song nature of it all becoming a kind of lullabye. “Four, three, in your pants you pee.” When she was younger that seemed like the funniest part; as if peeing your pants could be scary... “Two, one, Nanny says you’re done….” Her eyes were closed. The last line coming out as barely a mumble. She’d sang the old jump rope rhyme to calm her nerves. And it had worked. The tub held her like a hammock or a cradle;, and the water covered her and kept her warm like a blanket. Nancy laid there, still, in the tub. She breathed steady, shallow breaths as she dozed in the tub. Her stomach moved up and down below the water, and she began to lightly snore, not yet dreaming. If she had been dreaming, it wouldn’t have been of the hand racing up from the tub’s drain. Had she been awake she would have noticed the scarred digits reaching for the washcloth lightly clutched in her hand… A knock on the door. Nancy’s eyes snapped open. It hadn’t been long, not nearly long enough. The water was exactly the same temperature as when she’d closed her eyes. Funny thing about sleep; a moment could feel a millennium and vice versa. “Nancy?” A familiar and nagging voice called through the bathroom door. Nancy grumbled and then spoke up. “What, Mother?” “Don’t fall asleep in there,” Mom warned. “You could drown, you know.” The young woman rolled her eyes. “Oh for Pete’s sake.” In the quiet acoustics of the bathroom, even her mumblings could be heard. She picked up the washcloth again and wrung it in her hands if only to do something wit her hands and add the gentle dripping to the room’s soundtrack. She looked askance between her legs in the tub. Had that rubber duck always been there? “It happens all the time,” Mom insisted. “I’ve heated up some warm milk.” “Warm milk?” Nancy repeated, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Gross.” What did Mom think she was? A baby? She instantly regretted thinking of it in those terms. Mom’s footsteps faded slowly away as she gave Nancy a hint more of privacy. With a breath that started out as an annoyed huff and ended as a weary sigh, Nancy closed her eyes. One. Last. Ti- The shriek of fright she let out was muffled by the water. Down she went into the tub as two hands yanked her down by the hips. Down. Down! DOWN! Down further than it was possible in a simple bathtub, Nancy went. Instinctively, she kicked towards the sources, with those horrible hands pulling her farther and farther down. Not just those hands, either. More than one pair was grabbing her; caressing her; violating her. “Ah-ah-ah!” A voice from the depths chided. “Can’t go to bed dirty!” She couldn’t breathe! She couldn’t see, either. Still terribly warm, the water now clouded with soap. Soap in her eyes! Oh how they burned! How they stung! With near Herculean strength she breached the surface, stealing a gasp of air before being pulled back down. “HELP! Her eyes hurt. Soapy water rushed up her nose. She opened her mouth to scream and tasted suds. It was as if she were trapped under ice, with only a narrow porthole shining the light from her bathroom. The rest was incredibly dark, and from the dark came the hands; groping and probing. There were more than just hands in the water dragging her down. Wet, scrubbing fabric dragged across her skin. Washcloths! She was being drowned. She was being bathed. Either way, she was in a panic. Either way, she was being violated. Her laft arm was the only thing to breach the surface. Only by pounding on the sides of the tub and up against the near wall of the bathroom did Nancy have even the faintest recognition of still being in her own home. Only by that left arm did she have a hope of rescue. All the while down in the darkness, washcloths and hands that should not be scrubbed at her. In and behind her ears. Up and down her arms and breasts. Underneath her armpits “HE-!” When she managed to breach again she wasted her breath screamin. Nancy could have sworn she felt the teeth of a fine toothed comb brushing out her hair for her. Pounding so far away, coming from the bathroom door. Not nearly as loud as the pounding in Nancy’s head. The washcloths worked their way up and down her legs, and in her most vulnerable and intimate of places. “Almost…” The voice whispered from the darkness. Water still steaming hot, the washcloths withdrew as suddenly as they had advanced on her. “MOMMY!” Nancy screamed, her voice scratchy and hoarse; her mouth tasting of soap. “Hold on, baby!” Mom called through the door. An amphibian wriggling up on land, Nancy managed to claw her way out of the tub. She grabbed a towel and draped it over her shoulders just as Mom picked the lock on the door. “I’m okay!” she said when Mom burst in. “I’m okay.” The mirror was too steamed up to see her reflection, but even Nancy didn’t need to see her face to know that she was lying. “I’m okay.” “But I heard you screaming,” Mom said. “I heard you calling me.” “It’s okay,” Nancy lied. “I just...I just slipped getting out of the tub.” She didn’t resist as her mother took the bathrobe off the hook and started draping it over Nancy’s shoulders; removing the towel and guiding her arms through the sleeves, just like when she was a child who couldn’t dress herself. “I told you,” Mom said, tying up the belt around Nancy’s waste. “Hundreds of people a year, dear.” “I know,” Nancy panted. “I know. You were right.” That little acknowledgement seemed to satisfy her mother. “I’ll go turn down your bed for you.” “Okay,” Nancy nodded. Her voice was still shaky. “I’ll put on my pajamas.” “Okay.” And then she was alone. Nancy shivered. She was cold. Getting out of a hot bath, she was always a little chilly as her skin adjusted to the rapid shift in temperatures, but there was something different this time. Her skin felt funny. On a kind of dread intuition she opened the robe and examined herself. She had no body hair. Anywhere. None on or under her arms. None below the waist, on or between her legs. No stubble or even the vaguest hint of a root. Completely smooth. Baby smooth. To a degree, it was as if Nancy had never hit puberty. Or like it had all been scrubbed off like stubborn dirt in the bathtub. A sense of foreboding reminded Nancy of the tub. She turned to the tub. She hadn’t put that rubber ducky there. Nancy didn’t even own a rubber ducky since she was three. And she definitely didn’t take bubble baths. There it was though, in all of it’s lavender scented glory: a tub brimming with bubbles. Ten...nine...better watch your behind…. Nancy backed away and opened the bathroom medicine cabinet.. She reached in and took the pill bottle from the bottom shelf. “STA AWAKE (Fast Acting).” It read. She spared one last look at her body; another at the tub; and then downed double the recommended dosage. ********************************************************************************************************* “The all consuming act of bodily dismemberment-” The T.V. in Nancy’s bedroom droned on. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” The woman in the horror movie screamed while her arms were ripped from their sockets and corn syrup blood gushed out from her torso. Nancy lay in bed, struggling to stay awake; trying desperately to stare at the screen instead of the back of her head or the inside of her eyelids. The warm milk was doing nothing to put her to sleep, but the anti-sleeping pills could only do so much against her exhaustion. And her bed was comfortable. And unlike Tina, Nancies jammies didn’t have snaps along the inseam, nor did she crinkle when she moved. So much easier to just... She had texted Glenn, just so she could have someone to talk to and got no response back. He was probably grounded. Her freakout this morning in English had stopped her from getting to talk to her boyfriend. She worried about him and how he was coping with all the strange. More importantly, it was harder to go to sleep when you had someone to talk to. After almost drowning in the tub, and the not so pleasant nap this morning, sleep wasn’t exactly something Nancy craved. With no other options, horror movies became the last resort. The screaming and the blood, no matter how schlocky had always given her the creeps, given her trouble sleeping...given her reason to stay awake. In a weird way she was fighting bad dreams with nightmare fuel. Sadly, as her lids started to droop, threatening to weld themselves shut, even the nightmare fuel was running out of gas. Her head started to nod, just a bit. It would be okay. Just a quick nap...a cat nap. Not even a cat nap, a kitten na-.... NO! For what might have been the third or the dozenth time (she’d lost count), Nancy startled herself awake, forcing herself to stare at the old horror movie. Even the blood curdling screams and the sounds of chainsaws were becoming a kind of lullaby to the poor girl. . UP! UP! UP! Nancy sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Must not lay down! Must not sleep! She grabbed the remote and turned off her T.V. Maybe an eerie silence would help her stay conscious better than a grisly melody… Clad in pure white, she sat and huffed, chiding herself. This was stupid. She was acting like a child, afraid of monsters under the bed, (though that thought made her careful of her feet). Even the bathtub was more bad dream than reality. Her body hair? There was a logical explanation for that. She did like to keep a clean shop so to speak. Maybe she hadn’t lost it all as much as she’d just done a really good job of shaving...and forgot. But when she’d asked her mother about it, just before bed, all Mom had said was “You’re just a late bloomer, sweetie,” before giving her a kiss on the forehead and ensuring that she’d chunged down a glass of dairy. THAT was an unexpected reaction… Rubbing herself out of nerves and the strange smoothness of her own skin, Nancy got up out of bed and walked over to her bedroom window. Maybe some fresh air would help her stay awake. Gently sliding the window open, Nancy poked her head out and stared down at the neighborhood from her second story window. “Hi…” a voice from the night whispered. It was only Nancy’s deep familiarity with Glenn’s voice and his silhouette’s complete dissimilarity from the woman in Nancy’s dreams that saved him from a shove that would have sent him plummeting to the lawn below. The young woman drew back, swallowing her scream into a gasp as her boyfriend poked his head through. “I’m sorry, I saw your light was on. I wanted to check on you to see how you were.” “Do you know how much I sometimes wish you didn’t live right across the street.” Her tone was biting, her heart was pounding, but for the first time all day she felt something akin to relief. Glenn must’ve sensed it, too. “Will you shut up and let me in?” he asked. “Did you ever stand on a rose trellis in your bare feet.” Of course he’d sneak all the way over in his pajamas and bare feet… “Just get inside before somebody sees you.” Glenn clambered in through her window. Romeo on the balcony he wasn’t. More like an old boxer trying to climbe between the ropes. He cried out a little as his pricked his feet on a wayward thorn. “Ow!” “Shhh!” “What? They hurt?” “You gotta be quiet, Mom’s not even asleep yet.” Once he was inside, Nancy closed the window behind him. Laying there in his pajama bottoms and a gray sweatshirt, Glenn seemed to make himself very comfortable on Nancy’s bed while she closed her bedroom door; lest Mom see something she wasn’t supposed to. It was stupid, presumptious, and cocky...and it made Nancy feel at least five times better. Glenn being a bit of a horndog was infinitely more normal than the last twenty-four hours. “Do you mind?” she asked. Glenn seemed disappointed, but not terribly surprised. He slid off the bed and took a seat an old wicker chair next to it. “So I heard you had a freakout in English class today.” Nancy sat back down on her mattress. “Yeah, I guess I did.” “You haven’t slept yet, have you?” “Not really.” He reached over and noticed the cut on her left harm; the same arm that had managed to pull herself up from drowning in the bathtub. “How’d you get that?” “I cut myself in English class.” “Like with a razor?” Flashes of the sharp edged piece of shrapnel poking out from warped playground equipment appeared in Nancy’s mind’s eye. “No.” Glenn didn’t seem to have any further questions. Just more worried looks. The young lady grabbed a mirror and looked in her reflection. She looked tired. So tired. Her face sagged at the edges. Her cheeks looked puffy, chubby almost. She thought about her mother declaring her a ‘late bloomer’. “God, I look like I’m four.” She really did. Mom had mountains of photos saved on a drive from Nancy’s childhood. More than a few of them had a pre-kindergarten girl making pouty faces just before naptime. She put the mirror down and looked back to her boyfriend. “Did you have any weird dreams last night?” “Slept like a rock,” he replied. The answer was too fast. Too sure. Nancy kept digging. “Do you believe that people can dream about what’s going to happen?” “No.” Again, too fast. Too sure. This was a conversation that Glenn had had with himself ahead of time; like preparing for a job interview, or confession. “Do you believe in the boogeyman?” Flat heeled boots and ruffled blouses blinked in Nancy’s brain. “Or boogeywoman?” “No.” Glenn didn’t sound convinced of himself this time. “I talked with my folks. Maybe Tina always was...like that...and we just never noticed. Rod tried to kidnap her...or worse...you know that.” It wasn’t an admission; quite the opposite. But rather than the self-assured gaslighting coming from her mom and dad, that obvious bold-faced-lie of denial actually helped Nancy. It gave her confidence in her own experiences and senses. “I’ve got a crazy favor to ask you.” Glenn knew the look in Nancy’s eyes. “Uh-oh.” Nancy leaned forward. “I’m going to go look for someone. I just need you to stay here. Stand guard.” Not nearly as dumb as Rod, Glenn connected the dots. “Okay. Deal.” “Turn off the light.” Glenn did. Nancy saw a perverted little smirk as he switched off the lamp. “And it’s not what you’re thinking…” ********************************************************************************************************* It was late when Nancy finally managed to sneak out of her house. So late the crickets had gone to sleep. Every light in the house, save the front porch, was out. Still barefoot so that her footfalls were as light as possible, and still in her pajamas, the highschool senior snuck out onto an otherwise empty street. The street shouldn’t have been so empty. The ground, not so soft on the souls of her feet. The animals, not so quiet. The air, not so warm and cozy. Almost as if on some level, Nancy knew she was still asleep in her bed. Almost... Sometimes things just worked like that... A quick turn of the corner, and she was near Tina’s house. It didn’t matter that Tina lived much further away, certainly more than. Nancy was passing by her old friend’s backyard where they’d spent so many childhood days playing with dollies or tea sets. The old playhouse was still there in the yard, she noticed. Even the dark, that house looked far newer than it should have. Even the dark the house looked far older than Nancy knew it to be… Feeling ill at ease, Nancy looked behind her to the pristine streets of her own block. “Glenn?” she called out softly. “Are you still watching?” Out from behind a tree, Glenn glided onto the sidewalk. “Yeah?” he said. “So?” He sounded impatient. Irritated. “Just checking,” Nancy whispered. Though she didn’t know why she did. No one was around to hear either of them. A voice in her head, her own, prodded her on. She wasn’t here for Tina, she told herself. She couldn’t save Tina. She could still make sure Rod was okay. Slowly she walked forward as her boyfriend took his post behind the tree; looking around warily as a dog barked somewhere in the distance. A few more steps into the night fantastique, past burned out and decaying buildings, and Nancy was at the police station. Her mind instantly glossed over that this too should be impossible. But she’d gone there so many times throughout her life, she knew the way like the back of her hand. Even on foot, though the way might be long and tedious, she could make her way to Daddy’s Job in her sleep. Picking up her pace, Nancy jogged over to where the holding cells were, just to the right of the staired entranceway. Through meshed windows, not unlike a playpen, she peered to see the modern day Greaser, asleep in his bed. Safe. Likely uncomfortable on the holding cell’s cot. But safe. Nancy relaxed a little bit as he rolled over from his side and began to suck his thumb. Sleeping like a… A banging sound from within the station’s cell and the squeaking squeal of hinges that desperately needed oiling caught Nancy’s attention. The door to the holding cells opened. Nancy’s breath stopped, hiding inside her lungs than to come and face the open air. The intruder’s face was burned and boney, angular like a witches with texture comparable to raw meat. The dead flowers in her dirty brown sunhat seemed to drain the color from the room instead of add to it. The flats of her heels click-clocked on the cold pavement of the cells. Still, Rod did not stir. Looking down into the basement level, Nancy still had the advantage. She could see the witch-thing, the scarred beldam but the woman with the paddle slung over one shoulder and dirty green and red diaper bag over the other could not see her. Nancy turned her head. “GLENN!” She called. Her voice was loud but remained calm. Glenn did not appear. “GLENN?” a hint of doubt creeped in. A smidgen of fear. Nancy looked down into the cells and watched as the disfigured wenched walked straight through the bars and into Rod’s cell. The iron bars did not block her way. They might as well have been patches of shadow on her ruffled blouse and striped bow tie. The girl banged on the windows. “ROD!” The boy did not stir. “ROD! WATCH OUT!” He only laid there and sucked his thumb while the horrid woman peeled back his blanket and unbuttoned his pants. “ROD! Watch out!” The bizarre babysitter looked up at Nancy from the cell, a knowing smile on her face. A dark laughter as she set her bag down. “GLENN!” The young woman screamed and pounded. “ROD! WAKE UP! GLENN!” The monster beside the bed didn’t even break her stride, opening the bag and removing wipes, powder, and a diaper far too big for any actual baby to need. “GLENN!” Where was he? He was supposed to be standing guard! When she looked back down into the cell, unable to completely ignore the perversion going on, she saw Rod. Rod. And only Rod. The meathead’s eyes opened and he sat up, slowly looking around, confused by the presence of his thumb in his mouth. Nancy’s voice was back to full shriek.“GLENN!” . Glenn did not answer. “Nanceeeeeeee…” Not ten feet away, all by herself, was Tina, standing up but swaddled like a newborn. Nancy stood up, confused and shocked. Tina couldn’t be here. Tina wouldn’t walk. Tina couldn’t talk. “NANCEEEEE!” Tina’s voice sounded impossible distant. The echo of her former adult self. The big baby’s lips didn’t move in time. Instead, they parted, and slowly, very slowly, Tina began to vomit. It wasn’t even vomit, that mixture of breast milk and strained peas. When a baby did it, it was just called spit-up. Nancy turned her back to the wall and edged along the police station’s property, not daring to take her eyes off the disgusting sight in front of her. Bundled up Tina just watched Nancy with infantile curiosity as something thick and disgusting pooled at her feet. Someone needed a diaper change. This couldn’t be real! This wasn’t real! “GLENN!” the high school senior shouted out into the night. “WAKE UP!” she called. No response, save the gurgling noises from Tina as her stomach ejected all of its contents. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real. She was in her bed at home! Glenn was watching, waiting for her to stir. If she screamed loud enough, the real her might at least mumble something in her bed. “ARE YOU THERE?!” “I’m here, little one.” It wasn’t Glenn’s voice. Not even close. “PEEKABOO!” From the shadows, the witch came and Nancy ran like the Devil Herself was at her heels. Faster! She ran! Faster! But her legs felt like they had weights in them. So much running. So little progress. “HEEEE-HEEEE-HEEEE-HEEEE!” It was just like when she was a child playing tag. It didn’t matter how fast she pumped her legs, the bigger, older kids, always caught up to her. Her five fastest strides were two medium steps to the tallest kids. Her sprints were barely a jog to the grown-ups; and so it felt here. Back! Back to her house! Her safe space! Her refuge! She’d started her dream there, and so it could end here. That’s how it worked, right? Sometimes, at least... Skin goose pimpled with cold sweat, Nancy opened the door to her home and slammed the door behind her; locking it and sparing only a glance. Maybe this was it. Maybe she was safe. Here in her own home. Wolves roamed outside the door. Not inside the house. Three steps up, the staircase turned to tapioca pudding beneath her feet. Nancy dropped down half a foot, her ankle caught in the vat. The next step had just as much give. The door thundered and shook on its hinges. From the outside, Nancy heard the telltale sound of a key being inserted, and tumblers making way. A key! The witch had a key! “NAUGHTY….NAUGHTY…” The door opened and the grinning maniac walked in. “You’re far too little to walk like that, sweetie! Be good for Nanny!” Nancy scrambled up the steps, crawling on her hands and knees the rest of the way up the stairs. The stairs held. Nancy’s appreciation for the irony didn’t. “GLEEEEEEEEEENN!” Hobbling like a monkey, Nancy screamed all the way into her bedroom. She closed the door behind her; anything to put one more layer between her and the Mary Poppins from Hell. “GLENN!” There on the door, in her bedroom mirror’s reflection, Glenn sat slumped over, asleep in the wicker chair he’d set up guard in. He was motionless, oblivious to her screaming. “This is just a dream, this isn’t real!” Nancy said, remembering Glenn’s supposed trick. “None of this is real! This is just a dream! She isn’t real, she ISN’T-!” The shattering glass of her mirror sounded real enough. The jagged, splintered paddle that sent the shards careening into the air looked real enough. The hag tackling her, cackling in glee as she yanked Nancy around by the hips seemed real enough. Nancy screamed until her throat her, while the cackling monster pulled her over knee and went to yank her pajama bottoms down. Nancy clawed at the carpet, squirming out of her bedtime pants in a futile effort to remain unspanked. This only seemed to amuse the female fiend. “GLENN!” Even as she clawed and kicked and did her everything to protect herself, Glenn snoozed away in his own little dreamworld. With nothing else to protect herself, she grabbed a pillow off her bed. One swing from the passive club later, and Nancy was holding onto nothing more than cotton stuffing. “GLENN! NOOOOO!” RRRRRRRRRIIIIIING! Glenn sat up with a start. Nancy did too, now fully awake in her bed as the alarm clock she’d set ‘just in case’ rang to life. Nancy turned it off and looked around the room. Her room. Her very mature. Very adult room. As her boyfriend rubbed the sleep from his eyes, Nancy peaked under her bed covers. Her pajama bottoms were gone. So were her panties. Where she’d gone to bed in dry underwear, she woke up in damp Goodnites. “Glenn...you bastard…”

It was Monday and Stacy’s back was starting to hurt. It was starting to hurt because Stacy had big breasts for her frame, but no bra. Any of the asshole pervs at work wouldn’t know that, though. The subtle pressure lines from the straps were all there and any one who cared to stare at her shoulders would see them. But Stacy wasn’t wearing a bra; not a proper one. Instead, she was wearing a training bra that was for all intents and purposes a piece of useless cloth strapped onto her chest. It offered less covering than an undershirt with about as much support, and was harder to put on, but it sure looked like a bra. The “why” she was wearing something typically reserved for middle schoolers was more complicated. On Saturday, she’d been doing some Spring Cleaning, going through old cardboard boxes and sorting clothes, figuring out what old things to give away and what to just throw out. When the college intern found her old highschool clothes, she stopped at the training bra. How had that gotten there? She hadn’t worn it since before freshman year. It wouldn’t have gone in the donate pile, thrift shops never took used underwear. It should have gone in the throwout pile. She was never going to use it again. And yet it ended up in the oh-so-rare nostalgia pile filled with till-then forgotten relics that she couldn’t bear to part with. Training bra joined the nostalgia pile with the old beaten up teddy bear she’d had since she was three and the little blanket that Stacy recognized more from baby pictures than memory. On Sunday, while preparing Mr. Johansen’s portfolio, Stacy found she had the hardest time concentrating. She’d organize a few things here…then zone out and stare at her laptop. She’d shift around a few things there. When she finally read the clock, it was close to dinner time, and she’d started working on it just after breakfast. She just couldn’t focus! Looking over her shoulder, she saw her old teddy bear, her baby blankie and the training bra, all still in the nostalgia pile, now moved to her bed. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt drawn to those childish things of yesteryear. And holding the stuffed bear in her lap made her finally able to focus enough to get the job down. It turned into almost an all nighter, but it worked. That night, in spite of her exhaustion, she couldn’t sleep. Stacy just kept tossing and turning. Eyes closed, but sleep refused to come. Her brain felt the same kind of loud Her blanket blutched up to her chin fixed that problem and she finally managed to drift off. Mom had probably packed them- the bear and the blankie- ages ago when she moved out. Training bra? Not so much. Now it was Monday, and that same weird buzzing fuzziness in her brain- a skull’s worth of static- had come back sometime between her morning pee and gobbling down her bowl of corn flakes. How was she going to focus?! The bear and the blankie wouldn’t be allowed at work! It just wouldn’t fly. Personal mementos were frowned upon at work; even something as innocuous as a teddy bear on her lap. But something sheathed safely underneath her clothes… It was too tight and not made for someone...um...Stacy’s size, but it did the job. For whatever reason, she was doing just fine, now. Easier to focus. Easier to be on top of her game. “Excuse me Stacy,” Mr. Johansen, broke Stacy’s train of thought. Stacy looked up at her boss. “Yeph Miphah Johanphen?” “The organization on the portfolio this weekend was top-notch. Some of the best work I’ve seen from you, but…” “Buh…?” “This memo you just sent out…” “Whuh ‘bou iph?” “It’s a little…” he paused to find the right words. His tone was delicate. An uncommon tactic for her boss. “It’s a little sloppier than usual.” He slid a piece of paper in front of her. “I printed it out so you could see.” Stacy forgot to breathe for half a second. So many typos! So many simple mistakes! “Oh my gosh, Mr. Johansen! I’m so sorry! I have no idea how that happened!” With near preternatural quickness, a quiet click, and a thundering of keys that could easily be mistaken for heavy rainfall on a rooftop, Stacy made a second draft that was perfect. “I have no idea how it happened!” “Yikes!” Mr. Johansen exclaimed. “You’re a machine, Stacy!” “Thank you, sir.” “Maybe next time you can avoid those mistakes if you type with more than one hand.” Stacy looked up to the older man. “Excuse me?” “Look down at your keyboard. Spacebar.” She did. Same old keyboard, nothing broken or missing, no keys put out of place by some kind of anachronistic office prank, (as if Stacy needed to look at the keyboard to type). But when she looked at the spacebar, there seemed to be a light glaze over where her left thumb normally rested. Come to think of it, said digit felt a bit clammy as well. “Spit?” “You were biting your nails, Stacy.” Mr. Johnasen said. “You were chomping on your thumb while we were talking. Almost like you weren’t thinking about it.” Stacy looked at her thumb as if it had betrayed her. She hadn’t been biting her nails, she knew. Biting your nails didn’t turn your fingers wrinkly. She’d been sucking her thumb; just like in those old baby pictures. “It was kind of cute, to be honest,” Mr. Johansen said. Was Stacy being hit on? Goose pimples- the bad kind- broke out on her back. “Kind of reminds me of my daughter. She’s in kindergarten now.” Being compared to his daughter didn’t take the shudders off Stacy’s skin. “I guess I just must be stressed,” Stacy said weakly. A corporate internship was not the place to complain about stress. It was all she could come up with though. Mr. Johansen snorted a bit. “Back in my day,” he said. “we took up smoking if we needed something to do with our mouths and hands. I’d say go for gum these days. Better for you.” “Yes sir.” Her boss didn’t leave though. He was staring at her, squinting his eyes, narrowing his field. A million little thoughts, none of them good, went through her head. Was her training bra not padded enough? Could he see her nipples through her shirt? Was he looking at her chest? Ogling her in public? She dare not call him out on it, she decided. Old guys were total creeps, and didn’t take criticism well; even if they were on their second wife and had little girls in Kindergarten. Better to just stare straight ahead and keep typing up reports until he went away. An eternity that only lasted three seconds broke when Mr. Johansen said, “Did you get a shot, Stacy?” Stacy looked up and followed his gaze down to her bicep instead of her bra. She rolled up her sleeve showing the band aid that was just about ready to peel itself off. “Yes sir. This year’s flu shot. Infinitech gives it free to all employees. How’d you know?” Mr. Johansen ignored her question and asked another. “When did you get it?” “Friday, sir. Why?” Mr. Johansen shook his head and grumbled a bit. “Shit like this is why I use my own private doctor. If you would have mentioned it to me, I would’ve gotten you a referral.” Stacy frowned. “I don’t understand, sir.” Her boss twisted his mouth and shifted his eyes. “You know how they say that when you get a flu shot you don’t get the flu?” “You just get a cold, sir,” Stacy finished the saying. “Sometimes Infinitech’s colds are worse than any flu.” He paused. “If you start feeling woozy over the next few days...or just a little off...feel free to call in sick.” Red flags should have been waving. Alarms should have been blaring. Cannons should have been blasting. No one this low on the totem pole at Infinitech, especially those under George Johansen, dared to take sick leave or personal time. Those mental warnings never came, however. Stacy was too relieved that her supervisor was talking to her like a human being and not staring at her chest. “Yes, sir.” Things got stranger on Tuesday. “Stacy,” Mr. Johansen said. “We need to talk.” She’d been called into the boss’s office. “Yes, sir? Is there something wrong with my work? Did I make a mistake?” She sat in the chair across from her desk. Her knees together and her hands demurely on her lap, she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d done wrong this time. She stole a look down at her fingers. Had she been sucking her thumb again? Nope. That was fine, at least. “I told you to go over the numbers from accounting; more practice than anything; due diligence,” Mr. Johansen told her. “And you actually managed to catch a few errors that the boys in the back missed. You just saved us some money.” Stacy beamed. “Thank you, sir!” A little dog wagging her tail, she sat up a little straighter, her eyes a little brighter. Mr Johansen held up his hand. “I’m not done yet. “Eyes faded, seat slumped down. “Your work is fine. Exemplary. It’s your state of dress, if I’m being honest. It’s not exactly professional.” The intern looked down at herself. She’d made sure to switch out her old training bra for something that actually offered support. Her blouse was very adult….er...professional. The skirt wasn’t too short and she’d seen plenty of the other interns and secretaries wearing similar outfits. “What’s wrong with it?” “Your hair is in pigtails.” Stacy reached up and pulled at the two little tassels on the side of her head. “Oh yeah. I guess they are.” She hadn’t known why she’d done that, to be honest. Just for some reason, it made the weird stress-buzz in her head fade away. That, and she looked and felt cute. “I came out to congratulate you,” he told her, “but then I saw your hair and had to bring you in here. I know I said you reminded me of my daughter,” he said not-quite jokingly, “but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to dress the part.” He paused and gave her that same see-through stare he’d done the day before. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Obediently, Stacy nodded her head. “Yes sir.” “Go to the bathroom and fix your hair.” And just like that, the meeting was over. Face blushing, Stacy scurried off to the ladies room to fix her hair. She felt a little teary eyed, and very embarrassed. “Stupid...stupid...stupid.” She grumbled to herself while she took her hair down. What had she been thinking? The thing is, she’d been thinking very well until the moment she let her hair back down. Even putting it into a ponytail didn’t help. She was absolutely useless for the rest of the day. Wednesday was a banner day for Stacy. Like a good girl...like a professional...she’d sat at her desk all morning going over memos from corporate, organizing and digitally filing Mr. J’s work. Last night, she’d even managed to get a little extra work done on the side, just a few ideas, really; and left them on Mr. J’s desk for when he came back from lunch. Her hair was tied back and up in a very professional bun. She had no training bra on. Mr. Bear-Bear was left on her pillow, next to blankie. Her outfit was very corporate shique, a dull and boring grey pantsuit. She wore glasses she’d bought from a pharmacy on a whim. They weren’t prescription but they made her look smart. She hadn’t sucked her thumb all day, either. The only thing, on the outside at least, that might be considered inappropriate was the light up sneakers she’d found in her size and snatched up. No one was going to look at her feet anyways, and a little light every time she stepped was nothing compared to thumb sucking or having her hair up in pigtails. Mr. J. didn’t come to get her. He just emailed her. “Please see me.” The missive read. Stacy’s stomach lurched. What had she done wrong, now? No way had he seen her feet all the way under the desk. She didn’t think anybody had tattled on her, neither. The slight, barely audible crinkle as she trudged nervously to Mr. J’s office didn’t lift her spirits. She didn’t sit down. Mr. J. didn’t invite her to, either. He just left her standing there in the middle of the room. “Can I help you, sir?” She asked her superior. “What’s this?” Mr. J. Held up the paper that Stacy had left for him on his desk. Stacy felt her lips purse. Fear was building up inside. Had she done something wrong. “It’s Infinitech’s projected quarterly report, Mr. J. I had some spare time-” “About that,” he interrupted. Stacy peed a little when her boss cut her off. “Why do you even have spare time?” The tone was a weird blend of a concerned relative talking to a demented grandparent and a suspicious teacher accusing their pupil of cheating. Correction: Stacy was now peeing alot. She didn’t think she had that much in her. “I finished all the work you normally have me do today.” That too, was a bit of a lie. The intern had done everything Mr. J had her do for the rest of the week. The diaper she was wearing (another impulse buy from said pharmacy) had surely sped that up. No more potty breaks meant more time working. The feeling of her diaper starting to sag to the inseam of her pants told her that she would need to change soon. If only she had thought to pack a fresh one. Thank goodness Mr. J couldn’t see inside Stacy’s pants, (and not for the usual reason). “Okay…” he said, still sounding hesitant. “Now tell me about this again,” he indicated the paper she’d left for him. “Why do you think you can project our quarterly growth when we’re not even two weeks into the third quarter?” “Oh,” Stacy laughed. “That? You see-”. Stacy then began to rattle off some basic economic principles she’d picked up for some light reading online the other day. Simple stuff. Middle school level, really. Practically Kindergarten. Confidently, she explained how she’d remembered the mistakes she’d caught yesterday and cross referenced the actual and accurate data found within with Infinitech’s historic growth and market trends over the last three decades and factored in spending habits with middle class Americans based on location, political party, and what television shows were the highest rated. Mr. J’s eyes started to glaze over. Obviously, it was because he understood everything she was saying. Time to really impress… “Also, just before you called me in, I found more backlogged errors from accounting. They’re fairly consistent errors across the board too. The thought occurred to me; someone might be embezzling from the company.” “Uh...yes. Yes. Of course,” Mr. J. said. “But why is it all in crayon?” “It was all I had on me…?” Another lie. Mr. Bear-Bear had kept falling off her lap, and using the crayons she’d bought from the pharmacy’s obligatory cheap toy section had helped keep the buzzing at bay. (Come to think of it, the lady at the pharmacy had given her such odd looks when slid everything across the checkout counter. “I calculated all the different factors using different colors so it’d be easier to keep track of,” she offered. A knock at the door. “Come in,” Mr. J. called out. Stacy looked back over her shoulder, and saw two women enter. One was short, a couple inches shorter than Stacy, in fact. She had short cropped black hair, thick rimmed glasses, and most oddly enough a pair of blue medical gloves on. The other one was close to a foot taller than Stacy, with light brown hair tumbling down past her shoulders. She wore functional jeans and sneakers, and even though the weather was far from nippy, the red turtleneck and dangling jewelry had a warmth to it that was only enhanced by her friendly smile. The big baggy purse slung over her shoulder reminded Stacy of Mary Poppins, too; so points there. “What seems to be the problem?” The shorter of the two asked. Stacy started to answer, but she silenced herself when she realized that the question was not directed to her but rather to her superior. Stacy’s lips started to itch. Her brain started to buzz. She started to fiddle with the thing dangling from her neck, hidden beneath her blouse. She’d packed the pacifier just in case the urge to suck her thumb came back. It was a better long term investment than either gum or cigarettes, anyway. Mr. J gestured to Stacy. “My intern here got the company flu shot,” he said. “I think she’s having a negative reaction.” “Why do you think that?” The lady in the lab coat asked. “Yesterday she was wearing pigtails. Day before that, I caught her sucking her thumb. Then there’s this.” He showed the doctor woman Stacy’s drawing. “Interesting…” the doctor said. “I’m more of a biologist than a mathematician but these seem to be some very complex calculations. That’s IS unusual…” “I feel fine!” Stacy whined. “Stacy,” Mr. J shushed her. “Hush. Grown-ups are talking.” Stacy hushed. She didn’t want to make him mad. Mr. J. looked back to the woman with the lab coat. “See what I mean?” The lady in the lab coat frowned. “Fear of authority and a submissive reaction to misogyny does not indicate a correlation with mental regression.” Mr. J turned red and looked like he was about to shout something when the tall lady in the turtle neck spoke up. “I think I can help.” She walked around and smiled at Stacy. “Hi! What’s your name?” When stacy found herself too bashful to answer, the woman helped. “I heard it’s Stacy. Is that right?” Quietly, and fighting a nervous smile, Stacy nodded. “Uh-huh.” She didn’t know why, but she liked this new lady. New lady was nice to her. Still a little scared, Stacy looked down at her feet. “I like your shoes,” the tall woman said. “Are they the kind that light up when you walk?” Stacy looked up at her, astonished. She didn’t talk, but let her very vocal gasp of surprise communicate what she needed. “Can you show me?” Stacy enthusiastically showed off her new shoes, marching quickly up and down, marking time to make the heels light up beneath her. “Like this?” “That’s VERY good!” The woman clapped her approval. Stacy couldn’t help but giggle. As she was giggling, the new lady scooped her hand upwards and felt the squishy diaper between Stacy’s legs. For some reason, Stacy didn’t mind too much besides the lack of warning. “Jesus…” Mr. J. whispered just a little too loudly. “Quiet, Johansen,” lab coat woman hushed Mr. J. “A grown-up is working.” Mr. J. hushed. The nice lady looked Stacy in the eye. “Uh-oh,” she said. “It looks like you’ve got a wet diaper on. Would you like me to change you?” Stacy thought about refusing; of insisting that she was potty trained. Of running away from the woman who’d just casually groped her and was offering to wipe the piss off of her. She thought of drinking a bunch of water and proving that she didn’t NEED diapers. Part of her wanted to prove that she was a big girl. But the more she thought about such things, the more her head just felt all fuzzy again. “Yeph Pweaph,” Stacy said. The tall lady took Stacy’s thumb out of her mouth, and fished out the paci from Stacy’s blouse. “Here you go.” “Thank you!” While the woman with the turtleneck started to unbutton Stacy’s pants and slide them down her hips, Stacy sucked on the pacifier. Lady was right. This was a lot better than sucking on her thumb. “Oooooh,” Miss Tall Lady praised Stacy, “I like how there’s all these little stickers on the front of your diaper. Did you do that?” Overwhelmed from the sheer amount of praise she was getting, Stacy only nodded while she giggled bashfully behind her pacifier. “Okay, time to lie down.” Stacy did, feeling the sopping squish first she sat down on Mr. J’s carpet, and then laid back. “What the-?” Mr. J. began to object. “Hush.” Was all the lady in the lab coat said to quiet Mr. J. down. “Let the woman do her job.” Stacy wasn’t sure how to feel about Mr. J. getting yelled at. The tall lady started digging through her purse. “Help me get her pants off,” she called to her compatriot. Stacy just laid there, while the stranger with the short hair removed the girl’s shoes, so she could more easily shimmy the fancy pants right off Stacy’s ankles. From behind her pacifier, Stacy grumbled, “Muh phooph!” Taking out a packet of wipes and a fresh diaper, (a much prettier one...this one was pink and had bunnies on it), the nicer of the two strangers looked to her. “Don’t worry, hon. You’ll get your pretty light up shoes back. Just gotta change you, first.” Apparently she could speak pacifier-eese. “Muh pamphs?” “I don’t think you’ll be needing those anymore.” And that was just fine by Stacy. Strange things happened inside of Stacy’s skull over the next few minutes. The four tapes being ripped off her saggy wet diaper were like little sparks in her neurons, firing away. The chill of the office air conditioning hitting her pee coated nether regions made her shudder and reflect. She giggled and cooed as the soothing cold wipes were applied and her pubic area was cleaned. Like a good girl, she lifted her legs up over her head and grabbed her ankles. It was a little like sex in that regard, but without the sweaty grunting hairball of a dudebro panting over her. Mr. J probably used to be a dudebro…. The the feeling of the used diaper being slipped out from under her, and the sound of it being balled up and put to the side- KA-THUNK! “My wastepaper basket!” -Make that thrown away- The sound of it was like all of her lack of focus and concentration, all of the strange static-y fuzziness that had overwhelmed her over the last few days being thrown away with it. “Good girl!” the tall lady said. That only made Stacy blush harder, and reaffirm her hypothesis. The former intern waited for the fresh diaper to be unfolded and a gentle tap on her naked hip to lower her legs back down. That wasn’t just the smell of lavender in the baby powder being sprinkled on her. It was also the smell of opportunity. “Now you look AND smell pretty.” Stacy giggled and sucked on her paci even harder. She couldn’t help it. She didn’t want to help it. Out of curiousness, she looked up as the pink diaper with bunnies on it was pulled up between her legs, the leakguards tickling her thighs. As the pseudo-velcro straps (oooh, nice creature) were fastened on securing the nappy to her hips, Stacy cooed with wonder. The two ladies were nice enough to put her shoes back on for her before helping her back up. “Stacy,” the nice tall lady said. “Do you know what happened.” “The damn flu vaccine turned her into a baby!” Mr. J. barked. “Ugh. Happens to a couple people every year...always to my interns too…” “I AM NOT A BABY!” Which in a way, was a lie, but Stacy loved the idea of being fussy and stomping her foot. So she did. Oooo! Her shoes still lit up! Mr. J. Rolled his eyes. “You just got your diaper changed right on my Persian rug. So are you taking her to the secret nursery?” That last question wa directed at the woman dressed as a scientist. “Soon,” the dark harried woman in the white coat said. “But I’m curious about something. Most afflicted don’t have this type of...cognition.” She looked at Stacy. “Stacy, dear. Do you know why you’re dressed like a baby and why Miss Wanda just changed your diaper for you?” Stacy let her pacifier drop. There was no fuzziness now. “Well if I had to guess…” “This is a waste of time…” Mr. J. again. “Infinitech is experimenting with a permanent flu vaccine that adapts each year with the virus and testing it on employees,” Stacy said. “But a side effect- and a reason that the vaccine is still in testing stages- is that a small percentage of test subjects end up suffering a form of mental regression, likely as the vaccination tries to mutate and ends up causing a form of low end Alzheimer’s...not quite an accurate description, but close enough of a parallel for layman's terms.” She stopped. “How am I doing?” Scientist lady and turtleneck lady’s jaws dropped. “Go on…” “Due to C.E.O and founder of Infinitech’s predilection for shall we say..” Stacy motioned to the pink diaper clinging to her hips (it felt soooo good), “let’s call it juvenile aesthetic, the company secrets away those affected and cares for them as infants and toddlers instead of killing them or putting them in nursing homes. That’s what these two are here to do. They’re a scientist and a caretaker respectively.” She looked at the grown-ups all gawking at her. “What? Don’t you guys do twitter? That part about Miss Vasquez being into baby stuff is kind of an open secret these days…” “Is there more?” Miss Wanda asked. “Only that I’m presuming that this latest batch when combined with my own particular brain chemistry has produced a slightly different result. My neurochemistry has been rewired so that baby stuff…” Stacy started counting off on her fingers, “Pigtails, diapers, Teddy Bears, being cooed at and loved on…” now it was Miss Wanda who blushed. “That kind of thing. It sends my dopamine into serious overdrive, but also my cognition and mental processing has increased as a happy side effect.” She paused. “Oh, and I start going through a kind of withdrawal when I can’t act on my newly acquired childish impulses…” “Child,” Doctor scientist lady said, “How did you know all that?” Stacy popped her pacifier back between her lips. “Bayphic debuckshun?” The other two adults looked to Miss Wanda. “I think she said basic deduction.” “Maybe if you’re Albert friggin Einstein,” Mr. J. groused. “But she is!” Miss Wanda beamed. “Or she could be! She’s an...an..she’s an adult baby genius!” “Does this mean I get my intern back?” Mr. J. asked. All three of the women (or two women and a little girl as Stacy preferred to think of it), laughed at that. Stacy didn’t get to go home that day. That night she luxuriated in a comfy crib that was just her size. On Thursday, she gave a lecture to the board of directors on how they could maximize their profit shares, all while applying basic psychology principles to increase worker productivity and job satisfaction. She got to do it in the most adorable pink dress with a matching poofy bow in her hair. Miss Wanda came with her and changed her mid presentation; not that she let that stop her. Friday? Friday was play day. The other babies in the nursery weren’t nearly as smart as her, most of them could only talk a couple words. But they were way more fun to play with than those boring old grown-ups in the office. (The End.)

The Bambi Motel wasn’t the ideal place for a hookup. Across the street from an X-Mart and adjacent to an IHOP and an apartment complex filled with people too poor to afford moving out, the Bambi Motel was no Hilton. Shit, it wasn’t even a Days Inn. The neon fawn that resembled (but was legally distinct from) a certain animated adaptation of a public domain work did nothing to make the place feel family friendly or even safe. The declaration that HBO was available in all rooms likely didn’t cause weary travelers on vacation to give the dump a second glance. The Bambi Motel wasn’t the ideal place for a hookup, but it did the trick. Cash was accepted, I.D. wasn’t checked, and no safety deposit was required. The lady behind the service counter didn’t judge the young couple. She didn’t condone what they were doing either. She just didn’t give a damn. They could have been newlyweds eloping, a John and his hooker or a kidnapper and victim. As long as they ponied up the seventy-five dollars, Room 1017 right next to the ice machine was all theirs until noon the next morning. Mark and Robin were none of those things. They were two dumb kids looking for privacy. Freshmen in college, they barely knew who Elvis was beyond a few bad impressions; and they thought Bob Seager was that tall guy from Full House. They weren’t in love, but they were young and restless and bored. They were just working on their night moves. Robin’s roommates had forbidden her from bringing another guy into their dorm room, effectively ‘sexiling’ her. Mark lived at home to avoid lodging costs. Mom stayed up late and even if Robin did the old school walk of shame, Mom would somehow know. She always knew. That was the problem with growing up in a college town; you never really got to grow up. It was great for thirty and forty year olds that wanted to be hip, but for Mark it just meant a state of perpetual arrested development. It wasn’t even nine o’clock when Mark locked the door behind him. Good plenty of time. The plan was they split the hotel room, go a couple rounds, Mark would get to shower, and Robin would get the room. Mark was still grown enough to get home late as long as he was in his bed before dawn and out of it by breakfast. That wasn’t a formal deal with his mother as much as it was an unspoken understanding between them, (or so he thought) Robin texted her roommates saying she was staying over at a friend’s place tonight out of politeness, more than anything. She was pretty sure that they knew what that meant. Another silent understanding between. They did the same thing whenever they were hooking up with someone. She didn’t have class tomorrow, and while the Bambi wasn’t glamorous, at least she didn’t have to hide in a closet if she found out too late that her latest conquest had a girlfriend (or a boyfriend) that he hadn’t told her about. Plus there was an IHOP right next door if she felt like breakfast. Bonus. They’d met at the Theta Kappa Pi rush party. It was boring. They’d flirted a bit. He was cute. She was already drunk. He’d suggested they get out of here and they’d negotiated. Things were good. Good enough. Clothes weren’t completely off by the time they started kissing, her pushing him on the bed and straddling him. Him reaching up and feeling up her breasts before sliding his hands down into her pants. Big boy wanted to get right to it. Based on what she felt through his pants, she didn’t object to that idea. She stood up and unbuttoned his pants for him, ripping them off and dropping them on the bed. He stepped out of his boxer briefs and kissed her from the nape of her neck down to her belly button, sliding her pants down to her ankles. Robin purred as he did so. Robin stepped out of the puddle of clothing she’d left on the floor and went for her little purse. “Hold on,” she said, digging through her bag. “Oh it’s cool,” Mark said. He started rooting around in his pants pockets. “I’ve got condoms…somewhere.” He sounded a bit disappointed. She scoffed to herself. Boys. Robin got to her condoms first. “I’ve got a latex allergy,” she said. “I don’t want to get a rash after this.” Mark dropped his pants out of his hand. “Oh…oh yeah,” He said. “Cool.” Robin looked at his still erect member. Not bad. Not as big as she thought it’d be, but she could work with it. With a gentle push she guided him back down to the bed. He reached out for the condom. “I’ll put it on.” “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll put it on for you.” She opened the packet one handed, ripping it open with her teeth. It was a little trick she’d learned from her older brother, but she’d keep that her secret. She used her other hand to grab him and fluff him up a bit, eliciting low moans as she worked the shaft and he closed his eyes. Even when drunk and horny, foreplay was important. Quickly she unrolled the condom and climbed on top of him. Mark started thrusting immediately as soon as he felt himself enter her. “Ooooooh yeah,” he moaned. “Oh yeah.” “You like that, baby?” she whispered, her hands on his chest as he started to work his hips. He didn’t reply but just gave an extra little moan and a hard thrust beneath her. Oh yeah. “Not too fast,” she whispered. “I wanna ride a little longer than eight seconds, cowboy.” Mark opened his eyes and grinned a bit. She was even hotter naked. “You’re even hotter naked,” he said. (Okay, so Mark wasn’t exactly a poet. Wit was for before penetration.) “Shhhhh,” Robin told him. “Don’t talk unless you want me to do something. Let’s just enjoy the feelings.” Mark nodded and kept thrusting. He started running his hands over her instead, enjoying the softness of her skin and the curves of her body. BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM! The Imperial March started playing from Mark’s cell phone. Mark’s eyes went wide. “I gotta get that!” Robin leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, working down to his lips. “Ignore it,” she told him. “Let it go to voicemail.” Already the boy was losing his rhythm. BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-buh-bum, BUM-buh-bum. “It’s my mom,” he said. “I gotta pick up!” Robin gnashed her teeth. He was losing it. He was starting to push rope. She leaned forward “I’m the only person you’re gonna call Mommy tonight, big boy.” That did something. He pulled her in close to a full open mouth kiss, his eyes closed. Either this guy had issues, or she’d found a new secret weapon. Either way, her win condition had been met, so Robin was satisfied (or getting there). The ringtone stopped and fun continued….for about two minutes. BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM! BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-buh-bum, BUM-buh-bum. Robin groaned. “Again?!” The cute boy she’d met looked incredibly sheepish. That’s when Robin decided she wouldn’t be giving him her number after this. He was a good lay so far, but not good enough to deal with Mama’s Boy Syndrome. “Hold on, let me turn it off…” Mark tried to get out from under her. Robin grinned. A new game perhaps. “No turning off,” she coaxed. She grinded a little harder, “Just ignore her. Focus on me.” She ran her fingers through his short brown hair. “Can you do that? Just block out the world and think about me?” He nodded. “Uh-huh. Yes ma’am.” “Good.” BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM! His eyes darted, and she kissed him and whispered dirty things in his ear until his eyes closed. BUM-BUM-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM, BUM-buh-BUM! “Moan for me, baby.” He did. Then she did. They started building up a rhythm, low and slow like waves on the ocean. With each repeat of Darth Vader’s theme, the pace picked up and the groaning and moaning got a little louder. By the seventh time, the gentle laps of waves had become choppy waters in a hurricane. He was bucking and she was riding him out. “That’s right!” Robin screamed. Faster Mark!! Faster!” Mark was beyond talking. He just went faster. She was close. So close! Maybe he was worth dating, despite his mom. Maybe Mama’s boys made good boyfriends (or at least fuck buddies) after you cut the apron strings. “Say my name!” she told him. “Say my name.” Mark stopped pumping. “Mommy?” “Mommy?” Robin frowned. “What do you mean ‘Mommy’?” Then she remembered the bit of dirty talk she’d said earlier. Oh fuck. Did this boy have iss-? An iron grip was on her shoulder before she could finish the thought. “Get off my baby boy you little hussy!” The voice was low and commanding. Before she could react, Robin felt herself flying through the air, only stopping when she hit the nearest wall. She slid to the floor with a groan. When the stars had cleared from Robin’s eyes she realized that they weren’t alone. A middle aged woman about her height, wearing a dark blue dress and hot red heels stood over Mark, her posture was domineering. Her hands on her hips and a foot tapping impatiently, she reminded Robin of old Kindergarten teacher; a woman that wore pearls like June cleaver every day, and tolerated no sass from naughty children. Right now, she was staring down her son. Mark looked embarrassed and incredulous, but not for the reasons he should be. He looked like a kid that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar instead of a guy getting laid. Speaking of ‘laid’, Mark laid there naked on the bed, the only thing covering him was the condom “Mom!” he shrieked. He took a gulp. “How’d you get in here?” His mother, her hair the same color as his, crossed her arms. “I can come into your room anytime I want to. I’m your mother, remember?” Robin picked herself off the floor, hunching over and trying to look small even as this stranger’s back was turned to her. Mark, she saw, was neither moving nor covering himself in front of his Mom. He didn’t look comfortable, per say, but for a grown ass man he didn’t look nearly uncomfortable enough considering the situation. Robin looked back at the door. The latch was still bolted. How the hell had his mom gotten here? “This is a hotel room, though.” Mark said. He sounded like a whining toddler. “It doesn’t count.” “You paid for it using your money, didn’t you?” She said. “It’s yours until checkout.” Robin’s hookup slapped the mattress. “Crud. You’re right.” He sat up and bowed his head. “Of course I’m right,” his mother said. “What do I always say?” Mark deflated. Like a child reciting his lessons, he said “Mother Always Knows Best.” “That’s right sweetie.” Robin had seen enough for her liking. Quietly she picked up her pants and pulled them up her legs. Fuck this noise. This was not her scene. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” The woman’s gaze was on Robin now. Robin froze, filled with a preternatural dread. “Out,” Robin said. “Whatever you two have going on is none of my business.” She’d managed to deliver the line with a fairly even tone in her voice. She’d still frozen when directly addressed, however. Her pants were only pulled up past her knees and could go either way at this point. “If you’re having sex with my little boy it most certainly is your business.” “Mom!” Mark whined. “Stop it! You’re embarrassing me!” His mom looked at him. “Hush baby. Just suck your thumb for a bit.” Robin watched as he opened his mouth and started doing just that. Oh fuck no! This was all kinds of messed up! What weird ass family drama had she gotten herself into? Robin still hadn’t moved, neither had her pants. Mark’s mother pointed to a spot on the bed next to him. “You just waddle your sassy little butt over here, young lady.” Robin frowned…and obeyed. It was like her feet had a mind all their own. The mattress creaked beneath her as she settled down on it. Robin didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t explain what was happening, so instead she said nothing. The older woman regarded her for a moment. “How long have you been seeing my son behind my back?“ Robin said nothing. He wasn’t giving this…this…whatever she was the satisfaction. “I’m a mother. A grown-up. And I just caught you on top of my baby boy. You will answer me little lady.” “We just met tonight!” Robin hadn’t meant to say those words but they came out all the same. As if in defeat, her pants finally gave up the ghost and slid back down to her ankles. Robin finally had enough sense to cover her breasts. The woman turned her head to Mark. “Marcus Alexander Caldwell,” she said. “Do you mean to tell me that this is a one night stand?” “Mmmhmmm…” Mark nodded, thumb still in his mouth. “I faw mehbuh beh cuh go aw eh deh if thoonuyth wenth-” “Take your thumb out of your mouth, sweetie.” He did. “I thought maybe we could go on a date if tonight went…” He shrugged sheepishly and looked at Robin. “If it went well enough.” “I have to meet any girl or boy before you stick your penis inside them. How many times have I told you?” The dude’s mom sounded like she was lecturing him on playing ball in the house. Mark bowed his head. “A couple.” He started sucking his thumb again. “Well we’ve met,” Robin sneered. “Can you leave now? Or can I?” She felt the full weight of the witch’s gaze fall on her. A witch. That’s what she was; some kind of witch. “What’s your name?” Robin shut her mouth. Fuck this. Then the witch rephrased. “Tell me your name, little girl.” “Robin Murphy.” The words came out immediately. “Middle name, too.” “Robin April Murphy.” “What were your intentions with my little boy?” Robin shut her mouth. “You’re going to answer all of my questions. What were your intentions with my little boy?” Robin’s mouth went on auto pilot. “To have sex with him…” “Is that it?” Robin was able to shut her mouth, this time, but only because her head nodded up and down for her. She started to tremble. What was this power? The woman in control looked down at Mark. “This is why you didn’t answer my phone calls?” Mark mumbled something around his thumb, but he was not required to repeat himself. The answer was obvious. “What were you calling for anyway?” Robin asked. “Just checking up on him.” She walked over and snatched Robin’s purse from off the single desk in the room. Robin didn’t dare speak up for fear of being silenced. “I bet you think you’re a grown-woman,” she said. “A big girl?” “I am a big girl,” Robin answered. She had to answer. She couldn’t help it. She grunted and forced herself to rephrase. “I’m a grown woman. Now get out of my purse.” Hastily she tacked on, “Please…” Mark’s mom didn’t look up from the purse. “If you’re so big, why does your diaper bag have these Pull-Ups in them?” “Diaper bag?” Robin’s voice caught in her throat at what she did next. Her sheik tiny little leather purse- good for holding a wallet, a compact mirror, her phone, non-latex condoms and little else- ballooned outward. Leather turned into glazed and coated canvas; durable and waterproof. Simple brown turned a tacky pastel pink with smiling hippos stitched on. “That’s’ not mine!” Inwardly, Robin felt as if she were lying, accusing the grass of being blue or the sky being green. “Uh..uh..uh…” Mark gave out a warning mumble. Too late. His mother spun the bag around. “Then why does it have your name on it?” Sure enough, the back of the bag had smiling hippos stitched in, but the front had her name. Robin started stuttering. “That…can’t…be…” She was hypnotized. She was hallucinating. The ringtone on Mark’s phone had some kind of subliminal hypnotic message that made people super open to suggestion. And it worked after only seven calls? Over moans and grunts and other sex noises? For whatever reason that sounded even crazier than concepts ‘magic’ and ‘witch’. Nope. This was magic. Plain and simple. No further explanation necessary. Mark’s mother fished a condom out of what used to be Robin’s purse. “Thought a thin little would be enough protection, did you?” Robin nodded again. She couldn’t help it. That’s what condoms were for. Protection. The condom between the older lady’s fingers warped and expanded and twisted until it was a giant Pull-Up, designed for a toddler but sized for a woman. Robin gasped. “The fuck?” More involuntary words, though at least this time they felt like they belonged to her. “I don’t think so, Little Miss Robin.” Mark’s mom said. “You’re not ready for complicated things like love or dating or sex. You’re not even ready for the big girl potty yet.” The boy opened his mouth wide and screamed “Mommy! No!” His warning came too late. Robin felt a distinct warmth between her legs, an almost hissing sound reached her ears as her bladder let loose and sprayed out onto the bedsheets and further out onto the carpet. “Wha?” The girl reached back and snatched a pillow. Still peeing she stuffed it between her legs. “Mommy,” Mark pouted. “You didn’t have to do that.” “I didn’t do anything,” his mother replied. “She’s just not potty trained. Isn’t that right?” “Yes ma’am.” Both college students said in unison. It was not voluntary in the least. But Mark didn’t seem to mind as much; or rather, he seemed used to it. Robin? Not so much. Mark’s mother didn’t seem to notice their discomfort, or more than likely, didn’t care. “In fact, I’m betting your mommy didn’t buy these for you.” She walked over and wagged the Pull-Up in Robin’s face. “No ma’am.” It was such a weird, loaded question. Why would her mother have given her condoms? Of course, all of her condoms were now Pull-Ups…but her mother hadn’t bought her those either. The older woman clicked her tongue. “Pretending to be bigger than you really are. That explains the extra diaper on the floor….” She stepped out of Robin’s line of sight just in time for the girl to watch her discarded panties turn into a giant pair of Luvs. Robin grimaced when she caught sight of how yellow the inside was. She’d been drunk and wet when they’d stumbled into the hotel room, but not that kind of wet. Mark stared down at where his boxer briefs used to be. Robin followed his gaze and saw a discarded diaper with baby Bert and Ernie playing on it, the Pampers logo near the top. He sulked. “I don’t even get Pull-Ups,” he whispered. The woman shouldered the diaper bag. “We’re going home,” she said. “Right now. All of us.” “Mommy!” Mark stood up. “I don’t wanna!” “Not another word out of you until we’re home and you’re properly dressed,” the witch said. “You’ll feel so much better when you’re in a fresh diaper and jammies.” Mark bowed his head. “Yes ma’am.” Robin rose to her feet and dropped the piss soaked pillow. “Please,” she begged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know who you were or who he was. You can leave. You can take him. But I don’t wanna leave! I won’t tell anyone, I promise! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” It wasn’t the most convincing argument, but it was all she had. How does an undeclared freshman prepare herself for witchcraft? “Please don’t make me act like a baby anymore!” “But Robin, honey,” the wicked woman smiled. “You are a baby.” She held out her hand. “Now be a good one and come along.” Robin reached out and took. Internally she was screaming, but she was powerless to resist the witch’s suggestions and commands. Mark couldn’t speak, but he could whine and mewl. He started to stomp his feet, his face scrunching up in what signaled to be an epic temper tantrum. “Unless you want a spanking when we get home,” his mommy warned, “you should quiet down. Hold Robin’s hand. You wanted her more than me, anyways.” Robin was now in the middle between either two crazy people who had infected her with madness, or a witch and her constant victim, (though the two concepts weren’t mutually exclusive). “We’re going home right away.” The witch opened up the door out into the Bambi Motel parking lot. Hand in hand, the three people- two of them naked-walked out into the night. As Robin crossed the threshold the world went black for just longer than a blink; and instead of cold concrete, bare feet found purchase on warm hardwood. She heard the sound of a front door clicking closed behind her. “We’re home,” Mark’s mother announced. Robin quietly wished she were an owl so that she could twist her head around all at once. It was a nice enough house; not what she would think a witch’s house would look like. Rather plain all told. “Don’t let go,” Robin was reminded. Her hand clutched their captor’s even more tightly. It was nice. That was it. Just nice. Not mysterious, or dingey, or creepy, or dark. Hard wood floors changed to fluffy soft carpet after passing the initial entryway. They passed a kitchen and into a living room with a T.V. and a fireplace. No cauldrons. No crystal balls. No stairs either. This wasn’t even a two story. So normal as to be boring. “Here we are,” Mark’s mother said. Crossing into the bedroom, Robin caught the briefest glimpse of a normal college kid’s bedroom: Single bed, unmade; a computer work desk; some trophies and awards from childhood; a small T.V. and PS4. Completely typical. Completely typical, that is until the witch added, “Right in the nursery”. Wooden bars sprung like a trap from the bed, and bed posts elongated and raised the mattress into the air, even as the rail dropped down to the ground. Plain navy blue sheets got several shades lighter and happy clouds. From underneath the bed turned crib, a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues hopped up on a perfectly normal bureau, before becoming baby powder and wipes respectively. Like a disease, the transformation spread as the wooden furniture stretched and warped, the front of its drawers reinforcing the sides and the legs, and creating a rim around the top. The clothes inside were visible for a second before transforming; a split-second reminder of everything that was being taken away. T-shirts turned into onesies, buttons popped along inseams of pants and shorts, and elastic bands ruffled into waistlines. Underwear, bulged and fluffed until only diapers were on the new changing table’s top shelf. Socks, oddly enough, remained unmolested. A metal wastebasket elongated and turned plastic, becoming a diaper pail while the television, computer, and video games all melted into a pile of Tonka Trucks, building blocks and stuffed animals. The desk hunched over and squatted down into a toy box. ‘MARK’S TOYS’ the rainbow stenciling indicated. In the space of thirty seconds, Robin had watched an entire room transform into a nursery sized for a giant baby and she was the only one remotely impressed. Mark looked like a petulant child about to be put in time out. “Not again…” he mumbled. “What was that?” his mother turned to him. Standing up, in heels, she was taller than them, but only slightly. “Nothing Mommy.” “Right. Up we go.” She scooped the grown man up in his arms. Robin made a break for it and bolted for the hallway. Said bolt lasted not quite two steps. “You wait your turn, Robin.” Her feet froze. “I’ll have you ready for bed as soon as I’m done with Marky.” Mark sighed as he was placed on top of the changing table. He crossed his arms and huffed as his mom rolled the condom back off his penis and threw it into the diaper pail. He hadn’t even gotten to finish in it this time. “Don’t fuss,” Mom said as she got out a fresh diaper for him. “You knew this could happen the second you decided not to answer Mommy’s phone call.” It was true. He did. Was it worth it? He rolled his head and eyes back so he could so he could glimpse Robin, still frozen. Maybe. Maybe it was. She was scowling at him. She must not be used to getting caught. Not all Mommies were as sharp as Mark’s. The college student lifted his head and watched as a fresh diaper was slid under him. He might be in these for a while if he didn’t play his cards right. He let out a giggle, not quite involuntarily, as baby powder was dusted on him. Mommy smiled at that. “Awww, that’s Mommy’s little boy.” She pulled the diaper up between his legs and fastened on the velcro tapes. The diaper fit perfectly of course. They always did. Mommy took out a pair of jammies. The kind that covered his hands and feet. The kind that made it hard (but not impossible) to so much as masturbate. She guided him into it and snapped up the buttons and zippers in the back. “Thank you, Mommy,” he said. “You’re very welcome, Marky.” She pulled the hoodie up over his head and a long ear flopped down into his vision. “I thought bunny jammies would be appropriate, given what I caught you little rascals doing.” The blush from Mark’s face contrasted with the powder blue of the bunny costume. “Yes ma’am.” She carried him over to his crib and placed him in it, clipping a pacifier to his jammies before raising the rails up for him. “Mark, snap out of it!” Robin called. “She’s magicking you! Magicking us!” Mommy just walked over to her and scooped her up. “Magic? What an imagination!” Mark knew better than to object. He just sucked on his pacifier and watched as Mommy put another would-be girlfriend in her place. Maybe if this one was smart, they’d get to share a crib. That was kind of like sex. “It is magic!” Robin yelled at the witch as she was laid on the changing table. “Stop squirming, baby.” Robin found herself paralyzed on the mat, her limbs made of lead. The woman reached under the changing table, a magician reaching for a dove. “You’re a little littler than Mark,” she said. “Good thing I’ve still got some diapers in your size for when Mark’s cousins visit over the summer.” The Pampers she took out was perfect, because of course it was. It had all the designs of the well known baby diaper brand but was easily large enough to fit an adult body with Robin’s exact specifications. “Magic,” Robin said. She tried to keep the hint of awe out of her voice and turned her face into a scowl of accusation. “You’re a witch!” If she could have spit in the woman’s face right then and there she would have. “A witch!” The witch waited to reply until after she’d finished diapering the girl. If the desired effect was to make Robin feel even smaller and more helpless, it was having the desired effect. “I’m not a witch,” she said. “Just a mother. You’ll understand when you’re a mother, too.” “Mothers don’t kidnap people.” She looked at Mark for some kind of support. Dude had gone full baby and was just sucking on his pacifier. Mark’s mother laughed. “I’m not kidnapping you. It would have been terribly irresponsible to abandon a cute baby girl all alone by herself.” She reached out and pinched Robin’s cheeks. “Even if she was humping my son.” Inside, fury was beginning to overtake Robin’s looming sense of panic. She was simultaneously being infantilized and slut shamed. “I’m just looking after you until your parents show up or until you’re ready to be a big girl.” “I am a big girl!” Robin winced as soon as she’d said that. ‘Real’ big girls didn’t say such things insisting they were such. “Magic! It’s magic!” Soon another set of bunny pajamas was in the woman’s hands, this one pink. “Just like those pajamas and this..this…” She cocked her head towards the crinkly padding wrapped around her butt, too overwhelmed to say ‘diaper’. “It’s magic!” “It’s not magic,” the witch said. “It’s just a mommy being prepared.” “You just transformed this room into a nursery!” “Transformed is such a silly word for redecorating. I suppose it must look like magic to little girls like you.” As the woman said it, Robin could practically feel her mind reorganizing and justifying things to itself against what her own senses had logged. Her purse had always been a diaper bag that she’d just been using as a purse to feel bigger since she could carry it all by herself. Her own Mommy had always said she was a good little helper and let her carry the diaper bag as soon as she was old enough to walk. Her condoms hadn’t been transformed into giant Pull-Ups, she’d just misunderstood what the grown-up commercials meant by ‘protection’ and she’d started calling her Pull-Ups ‘condoms’. The latex thing was something she’d heard her Mommy talking about, and she’d parroted it when she found out that her training pants also lacked latex. These were all lies, fabrications of an overactive and influenced imagination but it was getting harder and harder to remember which was which. Was her mind getting foggier or clearer? Was her adult self starting to go to sleep or was it her baby self just waking up and remembering that it dreamed of growing up. Fudge if she knew. Arms and legs still limp, Robin had no choice but to let herself be dressed in the bunny pajamas while she weakly argued her case. “You teleported us out of the hotel and into your house!” “Teleported?” the older woman chuckled. “Is that what you call a car ride? Such an imagination.” “What would you call it?” She tried to keep her tone fierce, or at least indignant as she was riding on the woman’s hip. The woman ignored her. “Good thing I keep a spare crib in the closet.” A pink version of Mark’s bed came rocketing out of the closet, arranging itself catty corner to the babied boy. She dumped Robin in the crib and attached a pacifier clip to her jammies. “I’d call it a car ride.” Robin gripped the bars of her new prison. “Car ride?! That was instantaneous!” “Babies can’t tell time,” Mark’s mother assured her. “Look at that clock on the wall. What time is it?” Robin squinted at the analog clock. The numbers looked like complete squiggles. There weren’t even hands on the face as far as she could tell. Either she needed glasses or…”I can’t tell time.” “So you don’t really know how long we’ve been together, do you?” Robin slunk back down. “Answer me.” “No ma’am.” “Nuh muh,” Mark echoed from behind his pacifier. The two big babies held captive in their own cribs, Mark’s mommy went over to the light switch. “You two have had a big night. You can stay up for five more minutes after I’ve turned off the light, but that’s it.” “Yeph Mummy,” Mark said from behind his pacifier. The lights went out, and the two were left in their cribs with only the soft glow of a night life. “Mark!” Robin whispered. “What the fudge?” Mark popped his pacifier out. This sucked. Time to smooth things over. “Yeah…sorry about this.” He had the good sense to sound embarrassed. “Sometimes my mom just isn’t ready for me to grow up. Y’know? Mom’s right?” “No,” Robin whispered, more afraid than annoyed. “This is not normal, Mark. Normal parents don’t put their grown sons and their…their…dates into diapers and lock them in cribs.” Mark frowned. “They don’t?” “No!” She rattled the bars for emphasis. “This. Is. Not. Normal.” “Your Mommy never turned you back into a baby?” Mark asked. He felt his bladder burst unexpectedly and flooded the front of his nighttime diaper. Bummer. There was the slightest chance he might leak by the time his mom came and woke them up. “No!” Mark tried to figure this out: Last year he’d spent the better part of a report card period as a baby until he brought his grades up. Thank goodness all those shapes worksheets and alphabet puzzles his teachers kept giving him turned into calculus and biology tests when Mommy let him grow back up. He kind of missed the toys on his desk/highchair hybrid, he had to admit to himself. Though it was good that he didn’t have to cross the graduation stage in a walker and a onesie. “I’m an only child,” Mark offered. “Do you have any siblings? Another baby of the family?” Robin looked insulted “What? No! That’s not how it works! That’s not how any of this works!” “It’s how it works here,” Mark told her. “Mommy knows best and whatever she says, goes.” Robin let out a gasp and started pawing at her crotch. “Oh my God! I’m peeing!” She was definitely new to this. Weird. “You get used to not being potty trained,” Mark told her. He let out a yawn. Robin grabbed her stomach and let out a groan. “If you’re gonna make boom booms, do your best to hold it in. We’ve got less than five minutes.” “Five minutes till what?” Now she was yawning. “Till we fall asleep,” Mark told her. “Mommy said so.” Their eyelids were starting to droop. Robin scrunched her face up. “If I go to sleep, does that mean I’ll be able to…hold it in?” She patted her bottom, holding it. Mark shook his head. “Nuh-uh. But you’ll be asleep when it happens. So there’s that.” Robin wanted to vomit. “Gross.” Mark shrugged. “It’s kinda icky. Better than it happening while you’re awake. Mommy won’t change us until tomorrow.” He yawned and started grunting. The alcohol had irritated his stomach. Darn it. So much for following his own advice. “Does your Mommy still change you in the middle of the night?” “My Mommy doesn’t change me. I’m in Pull-Ups.” Robin growled at herself. “I mean I’m potty trained.” Another growl. Why wouldn’t the words come? “I mean I’m a grown-up. An adult!” She was starting to feel wobbly. Time to lay down. She rolled over onto her back and stared up the ceiling so she didn’t have to look at Mark. “I went to college to get away from my parents and be more independent.” “Where’d you grow up the first time?” Mark asked. Robin ignored it. “Robin? Robin? Robin? Robin. You asleep? Robin?” This was her fault for wanting to ride strange. She’d just never expected this kind of strange. Robin huffed. “California.” “Oh,” Mark said. “That explains it.” Mark settled down on his tummy and put his head down. “Makes a lot of sense.” Robin yawned. Almost every word coming out of either of their mouths was preceded or punctuated by a yawn. Mommy knew. “What does?” Robin asked. “You’re from California. Lotta…different lifestyles out in California. Different values. No offense.” Robin would have definitely taken offense, but she’d already drifted off to sleep. Mark’s eyes shut soon after. His bunny jammies made him drowsy. Sleep was like slipping into a warm bath. A warm bath. That sounded nice. If he was lucky, maybe Mommy would give them a bath first thing in the morning. It’d be nice to see Robin naked in the tub. That way he could pretend they were still hooking up in the… Mark didn’t finish the thought. Instead he just stumbled back into a hazy dream where such things as omnipotent mothers who could reduce their children’s status with a word was only a bit of imagination. Hey, he could dream, couldn’t he? ********************************************************************************************* The door opened quietly with the rising of the sun. “Good morning starshines!” Mark’s mother sang. “The Earth says ‘Hello’. You twinkle above us. We twinkle below.” The woman’s singing had that warbling faux operatic quality that white people who couldn’t sing adopted to compensate. This wasn’t real singing, it was ‘mom singing’. Mark awoke groggily. Mommy only sang this song on the days when he was going to be a baby. Resignedly he braced himself, as she danced in. He checked his bunny pajamas for stains or signs of leaks. Nothing. Sitting up, he wriggled his tush. Very squishy. Very mushy. But everything seemed to be contained in one place. Darn. He’d probably have to wait till tonight to get that bath. Robin awoke with confusion and fright. If not for the pacifier she’d been suckling in her sleep, she might have screamed. She looked through crib bars at the middle aged woman warbling oldie-pop that wasn’t even cool when it was first released. That meant it wasn’t a dream, caused by something she’d ingested. Robin sat up, and immediately regretted it. She hadn’t experienced the feeling of a full diaper badly in need of changing in some time, but she was still bright enough to know what she was sitting in. “Did you have pleasant dreams, my lovelies?” Mark’s mother asked. “Uh-huh!” Mark said enthusiastically. If he played along with it, things would be better for him. Poor Robin just burst into tears. The older woman sashayed over to the crib. “Poor Robin,” she cooed. “She misses her mommy, doesn’t she?” Robin sniffled. “Yes ma’am,” she said. It was true, but only because Robin wanted to be somewhere safe, and not in this magical madhouse. “Well let’s get you cleaned up and fed,” Mark’s mommy pronounced. “We’ll spend the day getting to know each other, and before you know it, your Mommy will be here to pick you up.” For a moment, Robin forgot to be afraid, not to mention how ridiculous she looked. “Really?” “Really, really.” With nary a grunt or groan and strength that defied explanation, Mark’s mom lowered the crib rails and picked her up. “Ladies first.” It was a short trip over to the changing table, but even those few steps felt gigantic to Robin. The image of being carried off into the sunset by someone big and strong and loving was something that had been ingrained in Robin thanks to an endless barrage of pop culture. What wasn’t so ingrained was being stripped, changed like an invalid or a toddler who didn’t know how to take care of herself. The middle aged woman started to unbutton and unzip the bunny pajamas Robin had spent the night in. “I’m not going to have to use the strap to keep you still, am I? You’re a little girl, but are you big enough to not wriggle while I clean you up? “Yes, ma’am,” Robin said. “And you’re not going to get all fussy?” Robin examined the pacifier still dangling from her pajama collar. “No ma’am,” she whimpered. “I’ll be good.” “Good girl.” Robin felt like a manikin as her kidnapper slipped the novelty pajamas off her body, leaving her only in a used diaper. And a very used diaper it was. Looking past her breasts, Robin could see the swollen undergarment, white but discolored with her own waste. For her, it was like a maxi-pad turned up to eleven. She felt vile as she was laid down. The cute little cartoon character on her diaper didn’t make her feel any better. “Mark,” she called over to the boy in the crib. “Please don’t look!” To his credit, Mark turned around and covered his eyes peekaboo style. “Awwww,” his mommy cooed at her as she ripped the first tape off. “That’s so cute of you. Mark knows the difference between girls and boys. You’re not the first little friend of his to spend the night.” “Mooooom!” His mother turned her head as she undid the final tape. “It’s true, baby.” That news made Robin shudder more than terrible sensations she was feeling as the diaper was opened. What had happened to those girls? Had they been let go, or something worse? For the first time in forever, she was having her diaper changed, and unlike any other time before, the girl had enough awareness and shame to think this was a bad thing. Quiet little sulking noises trembled out of Robin’s throat while her tormentor opened up a pack of baby wipes. “Suck your thumb if you’re nervous, Robin,” she said. “It’s okay.” Without meaning to, that’s exactly what she did. She was nervous, so in her thumb went. Her body had to obey even conditional commands, it seemed. Oddly enough, the thumb did help her wince and squeak less as wipe after wipe caressed her tender skin. “Your Mommy must take very good care of your tooshie,” the woman said. “But you’re starting to get a rash.” Robin’s whole body started to blush to match the color of her rump as the old diaper was slid out from under her, balled up and tossed into the economy sized diaper genie. Just as before, fresh, somehow adult-sized Pampers was unfolded and slid under Robin; the sweet perfumes in the core of the diaper made their way to Robin’s nostrils. Certainly better than the smells coming from what she’d been wearing last night. Oh great. She had Elmo and Abbie on her diaper. Her diaper… Without warning or asking for consent, Mark’s mother dipped two fingers into a tub of diaper rash cream and started spreading it on and in between Robin’s cheeks. Somehow this felt like more of a violation than just the wipes. The smell was less perfume and infinitely more medical, almost like bleach… That thought didn’t make her feel any better, nor did the cloud of baby powder to cover up that smell. “How do you do it?” Robin asked as the Pampers was taped up. Mrs….damn what was Mark’s last name…? Mark’s mother seemed mildly amused. “Do what? Change diapers? It’s easy.” Still laying down, Robin shook her head. “Make things you say true,” she said. “What magic is this? Voodoo?” “She’s a mommy,” Mark called from his crib. “All mommies can do it. Can I look now?” He was still hiding behind his hands with his back to them. “Yes dear, you can turn around.” Out of habit, Robin covered her breasts with an arm, while Mark pivoted back around on all fours. He’d already seen them, but this was a completely different kind of intimacy than she’d been thinking when they were just hooking up. Something about being here, in this bizarre situation made her feel so…so…vulnerable. “Because she’s a mommy?” The woman started gently petting Robin’s hair. “It’s true, dear. Someday you’ll be able to do this too.” “My mommy… I mean my mother can’t do this.” Why was she even having this conversation? “Of course she can,” Mark piped up. “All mommies can do it.” “No she can’t,” Robin snapped back at Mark. His mother kept a hand on her chest, while she squatted down and searched for something on the bottom row of the changing table. Robin thought to sit up, but her spine wouldn’t even flex. That single flat palm might as well have been Thor’s hammer. “You’re a witch.” Their captor sighed. “You’re just being silly, little girl.” She stood up and held a pink number with far too many bows. “How do you like this dress? It’s the perfect size for you.” It was. It was also gross. “Can I just please have my pants back?” Robin pleaded. “I’ll…I’ll still wear the diaper.” “You will wear your diaper,” Mark’s mother replied. “You’re not potty trained. But the kind of pants you were wearing last night will make it harder to check and change you,” she said. “Not appropriate for a little girl at all.” A wry wicked smile formed on the woman’s lips. “Besides, baby girls like you love frilly pink things.” Robin’s mind started racing. It was literally impossible to argue with this woman. Even as she tried to argue and rebuff, she was finding the frilly frock infinitely more appealing. She was starting to love frilly pink things. A deeper, darker part, worried about what that meant for her potty training. “O…ooo…okay,” Robin squeaked. “Can it be purple, instead?” The woman raised her brow. “Are we bargaining?” “No ma’am…just asking.” This seemed to please her. “Such manners!” She turned around and looked at her son. “Mark, you might be able to learn something from this little girl.” “Yes, Mommy.” The reply was automatic and submissive. His mommy dropped the pink and frilly thing and searched the bottom shelf again. “I just happen to have something in that color that would look adorable on you. I know you’ll absolutely love it.” When she popped up, Robin saw her chosen alternative. It was practically a smock. It was a t-shirt pretending to be a dress and it still had a bow on the back. And Robin loved it… She was pulled into a sitting position, and this time of her own semi-free will, lifted her arms up and allowed them to be fed into the dress and have it tugged down over her head. Two matching ribbons were used to tie her hair up into matching pigtails. She loved that, too. It was only when she was set down on the nursery floor and felt the muffled puff of her fresh diaper underneath her that Robin snapped back to her senses. This thing was ghastly. Sitting down, the hem of this thing didn’t even reach her knees. The moment she stood up her padded ass would be able to be seen from space! She did NOT love this. While Robin was having a quiet existential crisis, Mark was busy getting his own diaper changed. Such a weird turn of phrase, really. Mark wasn’t particularly busy. All he had to do was lay there while Mommy wiped him. “Did you sleep well, last night, baby boy?” His mother’s words were high pitched and syrupy, even if he was on punishment. “Yes, Mommy.” Mark let out a breath as the previous night’s diaper was thrown away and a new Pampers was slid under him. Every diaper was a kind of new start. That’s how he chose to see it. “Mommy loves you. You know that, right sweetie?” Mark managed to smile. “Yes, Mommy.” It was hard to be fussy when she was like this. He didn’t have a rash, so he didn’t need any of the butt cream and the powder felt dry and cool; a pleasant contrast after waking up warm and very very moist. Once his diaper was on, Mommy pulled him up just long enough to shimmy the red onesie over his head. Mommy loved putting onesies on him when he was a baby. With other outfits, he might be able to pretend that he was grown-up, or at least a big boy. It was impossible with a onesie, however. No choices for Mark. He’d made his choice when he chose to let Mommy worry. For the foreseeable future, there was only going to be one way he’d be getting his dick wet. On the bright side, he got Bert and Ernie for a decoration, so that was nice. He didn’t have to lay down long for Mommy, with the crotch snaps being buttoned quickly and efficiently. She was good at this. Always had been; never having been long out of practice. Out of habit, his legs wrapped around her waist as he rested on her hip. “Let’s go get some breakfast,” she said to the both of them. At least he wasn’t having to breastfeed…for now. From her spot on the carpet, Robin looked up. “Can I walk?” She sounded silly. “I don’t know,” Mommy responded. “Can you?” Robin went pale and stood up as quickly as she could. “Yes ma’am!” Mark didn’t want to be rude, but he almost giggled. He looked back at Robin while Mommy carried him into the kitchen. She was walking funny. The fact that she was walking with an awkward baby gait didn’t surprise him, but she seemed very uncomfortable about it. Every few steps she kept tugging at her dress, trying to hide the bit of diaper that was peeking out. Wow. Robin’s mommy really had never put her back in diapers or made her a baby again. Talk about privileged. As he expected, Mommy had redecorated the kitchen last night. His highchair was out, as was the spare for Robin. Mark let himself be buckled in and the tray slid into place. Mommy gave him a pat in on the head and turned to face his would-be girlfriend. Robin, looked at hers as if it were the electric chair. “Do I have to?” she whined. “You’re certainly not going to eat your breakfast on the floor, if that’s what you think.” Mommy grabbed Robin by the hips and boosted her into the highchair, securing her as she started to sniffle. As Mommy started tying their bibs around her neck, Mark couldn’t figure out why Robin was crying. Was she wet again, or something? Not being potty trained sucked, but it wasn’t anything to cry about; not unless you were leaking, but a quick change fixed that. While Mommy went to the cupboard to get out some baby food, he looked over to Robin and felt a pang of sympathy. Looking back on it, he’d cried the first time when Mommy took away his big boy privileges, too. He’d been a lot younger, but that didn’t mean Robin didn’t have a right to be scared. “Hey,” he whispered to her. “It’s gonna be okay.” Robin didn’t say anything back, but she seemed to take some comfort in it. Mommy went to the microwave and took out two bowls of oatmeal. “Oatmeal is good for little minds, and little stomachs,” she told them, setting each bowl on a corresponding tray. Mark watched as Robin went for her spoon, before Mommy cut her off. “Little girls like you can’t feed themselves with a spoon.” Robin’s hand dropped to the tray like a lead balloon. “You can use your hands if you want,” Mommy offered. Robin sank down in her chair. “No, thank you.” Mommy positively beamed. “You’re learning so fast!” she praised Robin. “Such a good little girl. Maybe I misjudged you and you were just having a case of the naughties.” A small bubble of hope formed inside Mark. If Mommy liked her, maybe he could get to date her again. “Can I have the airplane, Mommy?” Mark asked. His mother regarded him. “Do you think you’ve been good enough to have the airplane?” Now it was Mark’s turn to shrink down. “No, ma’am.” Sufficiently cowed, the two were spoonfed their oatmeal in relative silence, with only the occasional “Good boy” or “Good girl” when they swallowed without letting any of the bland mushy stuff dribble out of their mouths. From out of the refrigerator came two bottles of frosty cold milk to wash it down. Mark drank with gusto, while Mommy rinsed out and washed the bowls over at the kitchen sink. Robin? Less so. “Are you lactose intolerant or something?” Mark asked, Robin. Not that it mattered. Stomach cramps had a way of quickly working themselves out when you were a baby. Robin seemed actually offended. “No,” she said. “I just don’t want to drink milk out of a baby bottle.” “But you’re a baby,” Mark told her. “No I’m not.” “Mommy says you are.” “You’re Mommy’s wr-wr-wr-wr-…” Robin couldn’t finish the sentence. Mommy was never wrong and always right. She knew best. “You slept in a crib and got changed and dressed by a grown-up,” Mark told her. “You just got breakfast spoonfed to you in a highchair. Now it’s time to finish our bottles. Sorry. You’re a baby.” “Drink up,” Mommy said, still at the sink. “Then it will be time for school.” Both bottles practically leaped into the couple’s mouths and lips and throats started automatically suckling. Mark saw the panicked look in Robin’s eyes as she drank, and he knew exactly why. He started actively guzzling down the milk, full tummy be darned. He huffed and belched as he was able to pull his bottle out. “Don’t worry,” he told Robin. “It’s easy stuff. Shapes and colors and stuff.” Robin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. THAT’s what he thought she was stressing about? How warped did a guy have to be to realize that pooping your pants and getting spoonfed was not normal just because Mommy said so? The witch who did this to them let Mark out of his ridiculously sized highchair and set him on his feet. Okay. So he could walk, too. Good. Escape might be possible. “Maaaaaaahm!” he whined while she slipped two fingers into the leg holes of his onesie and diaper and patting his butt. She was checking him like he was a toddler, and he acted like she was just straightening his tie or something. “Just checking, honey.” She gave him another quick pat on the behind. “Go get the matching game. I’m homeschooling today.” Mark nodded. “Yes, Mommy.” Robin felt the relief drain out of her as he literally toddled off. Homeschooling. Homeschooling. That meant she wouldn’t be going out in public. Not like this. Robin didn’t know if she could handle going out like this. What little relief she felt was short-lived as she was unbuckled from the highchair and shifted up over the witch’s shoulder, and her back was patted. A mighty belch quickly rumbled it’s way out of her. “Good girl.” Robin felt the hem of her dress being lifted and the waistband of her diaper being pulled back. “Still clean.” There was an underlying implication of “for now”, in the other woman’s tone. “Kill me,” Robin whispered to herself. “Just kill me.” She’d had guys try to cop a feel before. But never had she felt so utterly helpless and unable to retaliate or strike back. That this in no way felt sexual somehow made it worse. This kind of treatment was just something that she couldn’t wrap her grown-up brain around. (Grown-up? Grown-up? Isn’t that what grown-ups called themselves?) She felt so violated. So small. So little. She bobbed up and down as she was carried into the living room. Like the rest of the house, it was decorated for a small child, but size and proportion were completely wrong. A playmat was off in the corner, with tiny little stuffies dangling down for an infant to bat at. One of those weird little bead toys with the colorful bent wire tracks laid on the floor next to a jack in the box. Sitting at the foot of the couch was what appeared to be a well used teething ring. That was another unnerving thing that bothered Robin: None of this stuff seemed completely appropriate. Spoon feeding solid food, but burping. Being able to walk, but the type of play at that was clearly meant for kids who might be crawlers at best. Nothing was “age appropriate” for any particular age. But Mark’s mommy (shit…now she was starting to think those terms), hadn’t given Robin an age; just that she was a baby and was too little for her big girl panties. Mark was already on his hands and knees, spreading out little cardboard tiles. “I’m setting up the memory match game, Mommy.” Before she knew it, Robin was back down on the floor, her padded underwear cushioning her seat. Mark’s mother leaned over them, her hands on her knees. “Do you know how to play ‘memory’?” “Yeah,” Robin said. “You just match the pictures together.” She caught a disapproving look from the witch. “I mean…yes ma’am. I do.” The smile, returned. “Good girl.” She stood up. “I know babies like you two have trouble remembering things, but I want you to try your best.” She turned around. “I’ll be on the couch reading a book. You two play nice, and don’t stop until you get all the matches.” True to her word, she went over to the couch, crossed her legs and cracked open a paperback novel. For reasons that should have disturbed her, but didn’t, Robin couldn’t make out the writing on the cover; just that there was a picture of an impossibly ripped man and a ridiculously thin woman in beach gear walking by the ocean. Robin turned back to the square tiles. Mark flipped over the first tile. A cow was on the tile. “Mooooo…” he intoned. “The cow goes moooooo…right?” The young woman had shaken her head plenty of times, in her life. On Twitter, she’d written ‘smh’, too, plenty of times. Never before had she actually thought it, before. Such was her bafflement and disbelief at Mark that coherent thought switched to text shorthand. “What’s wrong with you?” She hissed. “Don’t bother trying to trick me,” Mark said. “I’ve played this game plenty of times. I know that the cow goes moo.” “I mean why are you okay with this?” “It’s an okay game…” Mark flipped over another tile. “Dog goes meow. No match.” He flipped the two tiles back over. Her lips curled back in disgust. “Why are you okay with being treated like this?” “Oh, that,” Mark said. “Sorry. I know she’s kinda strict, but she’s just looking out for us. But eventually she’ll stop being mad and I’ll get my big boy pants back. Your turn.” She still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re what? Eighteen? Nineteen? You’re an adult.” “Not without Mommy’s permission, I’m not,” Mark replied. “It was the same with my dad. I think that’s why they divorced.” There was an awkward pause. “Your turn,” he pointed to the scattered tiles. Robin let out a disgusted scoff and flipped over two tiles. “Raccoon and raccoon. There’s a match.” She scooped the tiles up. “Beginner’s luck.” “What does the raccoon say?” “I don’t know!” “Me neither.” Mark giggled a bit. “Seriously, though, it’s gonna be okay. You’ll probably be back to being a big girl in no time.” He flipped over two more tiles. “Panda and Pig. No match. Your turn.” Robotically her hand flipped over one tile after another. “Dog goes woof. Chicken goes cluck. Your…” and then her stomach turned. Mark, being a gentleman, flipped the tiles back over for her. “What’s wrong?” “I gotta go…” Without meaning to, Robin was shifting to all fours. Her pride wanted her to sit down but her body was clearing a path so to speak. “…again.” In a minute or two, sitting down wouldn’t be an option for her, not if she wanted to keep her sanity. Mark took his turn. “No match. And no you don’t gotta go. You’re not potty trained. You’ll just go.” There was an uncomfortable pause. “You get used to it.” “I don’t want to get uuuuuuuused to it!” Robin grunted. She grunted! She didn’t want to grunt! Grunting meant…? What did grunting mean? She wasn’t potty trained anymore! That meant that she was losing her sense of cause and effect about certain things! Her tummy was hurting. Grunting would take care of the tummy ache. She’d grunt and then she’d…she’d…her tummy would stop hurting but…but…but…”I need to get out of here…!” “But Mommy said we have to keep going until, we have all the matches.” Mark leaned back on the floor. The front of his onesie between his legs grown somehow. It wasn’t so much like he was pitching a tent, as much as filling up a water balloon. “Don’t feel too bad,” he whispered “Mommy checked me too early, too.” “Don’t say going!” She groaned. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna..” “I know. But Mommy said…” Straining and despairing, Robin lowered her voice. “Just…just…give me a minute.” She put her head to the floor and closed her eyes. “Everything okay?” Mark’s mommy asked. “Yes, Mommy.” “Okay…”. She didn’t sound completely convinced. “Kill me,” Robin whispered again. “Just kill me.” It took less than thirty seconds for Robin to die. It was just a little bit and only on the inside, but it still counted.” “Ready to keep playing?” Mark asked. Robin wanted to cry. She wanted to ugly cry and let snot drip out her nose and just scream her lungs out. In a weird way, it’d have made her feel more adult. Babies didn’t cry when this sort of thing happened to them. Not right away, anyways. That’s why they needed to be checked. “I can’t keep playing.” Her voice was still soft and shaken. “I gotta…I gotta…I gotta get chaaaanged.” The last syllable came out as a low, sorrowful wail. She wanted to crawl away. Forget that! She wanted to run away; to spring. But her body wouldn’t let her do anything unless it was directly related to playing a dumb preschool game. Mark’s mother knew best. Mrs. Mark’s Mommy looked up from her book. ‘Everything alright, kids?” “I neeeeeed aaaaaa chaaaaaaange!” Now Robin’s wail wasn’t low. “After you’re done.” The witch went back to her book. “But-!” “That’s what diapers are for, sweetie.” She wasn’t even look up. “So that babies like you can keep playing and learning your lessons and you don’t have to stop to use the potty.” Robin’s diaper was sagging even more as her body completely emptied itself. “Keep playing.” “Yes, ma’am.” Mark answered for them both. “Until we have all the matches. Mommy knows best.” Perhaps it was the rock bottom state that she found herself in, but in her despair, something sunk in besides the contents of her Pampers. Whatever the witch said was true, even if it didn’t make sense. It didn’t have to be accurate to be true. “All…the…matches!” Both arms reached out and swept up all the tiles in one fluid motion. The witch hadn’t said anything about having to play the game. She only had to have all the matches. If she had all the tiles ….“Gottem!” Like a bolt, Robin was on her feet and sprinting for the front door. Her bare feet flapped against the floor. Her legs pounded pushing her forward, even as her diaper sagged and washed between her legs. Go! Run! Get to the cops! Forget pride! Forget disgust! JUST! GET! FREE! “ROBIN!” The harpie’s voice called out after her. “STOP!” The young woman’s feet stopped so quickly that she tripped over them, tumbling face first to the floor. Still better than the other end. Stinging pain in her face, a shadow fell over Robin. “That was a very naughty thing you just tried, little girl.” The witch was wagging her finger at her. The college co-ed rolled over (and immediately regretted it), to look her tormentor in the eye. “But you said I had to find all the matches and I could…” “That’s not what I meant, baby girl!” The madwoman was fuming. “If you can’t understand even that you’re farther away from being a big girl than I thought. Maybe you’re littler than I thought. Maybe you can’t walk yet. Maybe you can’t crawl. Maybe you can’t talk. Maybe you need to be breastfed and put down for naps every few hours like a newborn. Maybe you have no hair or breasts or teeth and can’t understand English and just need to lay in a cot all day. Is that what you want? Is it?” “But you said…-!“ Robin was cut off. “Never mind what I said! Clearly, you need another lesson! Do you want a spanking before or after I change your diaper?” DING-DONG! Mark’s mother frowned. “I’ll get it.” She took a step and doubled back before saying, “You wait right here, little missy. I’m not done with you yet.” Robin was frozen in place, forced to race as her captor went to answer the front door. Maybe she could scream. Maybe she could call out for help. But what good would that do against someone who could warp reality with a word. Mark’s approach was signaled with the slight crinkling as he crawled up to her. “You did it now,” he whispered. “Mommy’s really mad. The last time something like this happened, my cousin Felicia ended up in diapers for three years. Three years!” “Your mom’s a witch!” “You should see my auntie.” A new voice interrupted them. “Robin?” The young lady whipped her head. “Mom?” What was her mother doing here?! Her parents lived out of state! “Hi sweetie! It’s good to see you again!” Robin’s mother spoke in the same sing-song mother ESE reserved for a toddler. Did you have a nice time with your little friend?” Beside her mother was Mark’s mom; the two women looked like bosom buddies. ‘Thanks for watching her,” she said. “She was a bit of a handful,” Mark’s mother said. “But I think everyone had a good time. Would you like to stay for lunch.” Robin’s Mommy politely declined. “Thank you,” “but I really ought to be getting her home. It’s a long drive from here to California.” “I’ll bet,” the witch agreed. “Perhaps we can arrange another playdate sometime next week.” “Mom, get away from her!” Robin screamed. “She’s a witch!” “Robin!” Her mother scolded. “That’s not very nice. Say you’re sorry.” Even if she didn’t know what it meant, Robin had the impulse to tell everyone in the room to “get bent”. But her mouth didn’t listen. “I’m sorry Mrs. Mark’s Mommy…” she said, sounding every bit the chastised toddler. Once she said it she looked down past her nose to the lips that had disobeyed her. Betrayed by her own body again! Only this time, the order came from her own mother… Robin’s mother’s nose wrinkled and she sniffed. “I think your little boy needs a change,” she said. “Actually, I think that’s Robin,” the other adult replied. “I was just about to change her when you rang.” Her mother furrowed her brow, and Robin felt a bit of hope. “Change her? What do you mean change her. She’s potty…” Robin’s mom stopped and stared at her exposed ass, the diaper not peaking out from the dress as much as the dress barely framing the diaper. “Why is my daughter in a diaper?” The voice was defensive. And suspicious. And just a bit angry. YES! “I found them in her diaper bag last night.” Mark’s mother said. “I just assumed…” she let the thought trail off. “Of course she’s potty training! That’s why she was wearing a Pull-Up!” Mommy sounded exasperated but the only thing Robin felt was schadenfreude. Mark’s witch of a mother Then the weight of her mother’s words landed on her. “Potty training…?” she echoed, computed. Mommy came and helped her to her feet. “Yes dear.” Just like Mark’s mother, her own lifted the dress and pulled back the Pampers to take a look in side. “Oh look at you. I hope you don’t start up bad habits, again. You were doing so well.” “Then why were there…?” Mark’s mother seemed confused and off balance. “They were for nap time, and overnights, obviously! She’s in Pull-Ups during the day!” “I am SO sorry!” “You better be!” While the two adults bickered, Robin looked to Mark. He seemed distressed, but it had nothing to do with subject matter and everything to do with volume and tone. He looked like a baby upset that two adults were yelling. “Come on, Robin,” Mommy said, taking Robin by the hand and leading her out the door. I’ll change you in the car.” She was silent, stunned really, when Mom’s Mint Green mini-van was parked in the driveway and she found herself laying down in the back to have her privates wiped for what had to be the third time in twenty four hours. Mommy took the balled up Pampers and tossed it onto the driveway. “Let them clean it up,” she muttered before taking out an adult sized pink Pull-Up and sliding it up her daughter’s legs. “Mommy?” Robin asked. “What’s going on?” Mommy took a breath and helped Robin into a standing position. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Sometimes grown-ups lose their temper, even though we shouldn’t. But that lady shouldn’t have put you in a diaper. You’re not a baby.” “Why am I in Pull-Ups?” “Because you’re potty-training, honey. You’re learning how to be a big girl.” The hatchback was closed and the side door was slid open. Inside the car was a toddler’s car seat, sized perfectly for a certain college girl. “But I’m going to college…” Going to college didn’t stop Robin from being buckled into a carseat. “That’s right,” Mommy said. “And you’re learning to be a big girl at college, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I’ll take you back tomorrow for class. I’ll make sure to put plenty of Pull-Ups in your backpack for your cubby. No diapers this time. Don’t want anyone getting confused.” Confused? Confused?! She had no idea!!! “I was having sex last night!” How silly she felt saying it. “That’s right,” her mother told her. “And you can have sex again as soon as you’re a big girl again.” Robin started thrashing and kicking her feet, but all she ended up doing was stubbing her toe on the front passenger seat. “But I wanna have sex nooooooow! I’m a big girl!” Mommy ignored her and closed the door. “Big girls don’t wear Pull-Ups,” she said once she was in the driver’s seat and backing out. “But I wasn’t weeeearing Pull-Ups last night!” Mommy shifted the car in gear and started driving. “Last night you were a big girl. Now you’re back to learning how to be one.” “It doesn’t work that waaaaaay!” “Yes it does.” “WHYYYYY?!” “Because I say it does.” Robin was past the point of breaking. “WHYYYYYYYY?!” “You’ll understand when you’re a Mommy.” (The End…?)

Tim wandered onto the studio lot. His auburn hair was slicked back and his khakis and deep blue polo shirt were clean and neatly pressed. Tucked under his arm, as per usual, were copies of his resume and headshots . This was going to be it. This was his chance to get his big break and get on T.V. and get famous and maybe even get into movies within the next four to five years... Okay, yeah, this was the kind of thing he said to himself all the time...but...but.... But this was an audition for something outside of community theater! This was an audition that required him to talk and not just linger in the background! And most importantly of all, Tim really needed this. Disney had officially run out of good ideas and were now doing a spin off of a spin off of one of their old shows: “Cory in the Kitchen”. This time, Kyle Massey was playing Cory- the kid from That’s So Raven without the psychic powers- but he’s grown up and a chef. Yeah...not great. It was purported to contain as much if not more of the standard lowbrow mugging, nonsensical meandering plots involving cartoonish schemes, and over the top slapstick that made Disney Channel Sitcoms...Disney Channel Sitcoms. At least it was T.V., Tim reasoned. Disney Channel standards meant he wouldn’t have to try very hard to be “good”, and this was a speaking part. Tim’s demo reel had made it so he was auditioning for the part of Cory’s bumbling sous chef, Doug. No way would the inept comic relief character be cut after the pilot. If nothing else this was Tim’s chance to get a regular paycheck. It was either this, Tim knew, or finally break down and get that job at the phone company call center. What happens to a dream deferred? It goes into a cramped room filled with cubicles and tries to up-sell strangers on their latest wireless plan and internet bundle. He walked into the front of the office. The room was oddly vacant, truth be told. That was odd. Tim had been thrilled to make it this far, but he was suddenly worried when he saw the empty waiting room. Most nobodies would kill to play C-List actor’s sidekick. The young man looked at his phone. Was he very, very early or very, very, late? According to his phone, he was right on time. “Excuse me,” he called out. “Can anyone help me?” The reception window opened and a young woman with neat blonde hair poked her head out. “Hi there! Can I help you?” “Is this where the audition for Cory in the Kitchen is?” Tim asked. He might as well have been speaking ancient Sumerian. “Cory in the Kitchen?” the receptionist asked. Tim pulled up the confirmation email he’d been sent, complete with date and time and showed it to the receptionist. “Newest Disney pilot...?” The blonde lady frowned, not out of anger or confusion but out of awkward sadness. “I hate to tell you this, but I think you’ve been scammed.” “What?!” Tim’s mouth felt dry and his pulse picked up, beginning to panic. She turned his phone back around and showed him. “It’s got the logo and mouse ears and everything, but look at the sender. Disney isn’t supposed to have a ‘k’ in it and is supposed to end with a ‘y’ not a double ‘e’.” Tim blinked and the world went silent for a second, like right after a grenade goes off. “I think you got pranked, hun.” Tim snatched “How did I not catch that?” “Address is wrong too,” the receptionist added. “Right street numbers, wrong zip code. The place you’re looking for doesn’t exist.” “But...but...but...my GPS led me here.” Tim’s voice was coming out as a squeak. His world was crumbling before him. Failed audition after failed audition…and now this. This was a wake up call. He wasn’t cut out for this. “Excuse me…” he covered his face to try and hide his flushed face and glassy eyes “I need a minute.” Tim quick-walked over to a wall of chairs and sat down, taking an intense interest in the floor space between his shoes. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening! How stupid could he be? How desperate? How gullible? A kind hand gave him a tissue. His nose was running along with his mind. “Thank you,” he said, wiping away tears and snot in that order. “Actor?” the receptionist asked. Tim nodded. “Sorta…I’m trying.” “Yeah. Happens all the time, here,” the receptionist told him. “People come here all the time looking for their big break. Thinking that they’re getting their big break.” Tim couldn’t bear to make eye contact, but he saw the receptionist’s shadow slump down and its shoulders sag right besides his. “But instead they take a closer look and realize that the email came from Universal with a ‘Y’ or Werner Bros instead of Warner Brothers.” “Or Dis-knee,” Tim added. “Yeah.” the receptionist said. “It’s just as much a prank on us as it is on you all.” She sighed, sounding defeated. “I’ve kind of gotten used to it by now.” Tim was shaking his head. “Yeah. Me too, I guess.” They sat there for a beat before he remembered his manners. “What do you guys do here?” “Straight to home motion capture films.” The struggling actor sat up a little straighter. “Motion capture? Like computer cartoons? Like Andy Serkis?” The receptionist sat up a little straighter too. “More advanced than what Andy Serkis works with. Less body suits and more sophisticated cameras. No need for blue screen. We film live with practical sets and wardrobe so the actors have something to react to, and then animate it in post.” “Sounds like the old rotoscope tricks they did for the early Disney cartoons.” The receptionist smiled, impressed. “You know your stuff.” Tim blushed a little bit. “Hey, this is just an idea, how would you like to make a little money today? We just had a walkout this morning, and could use you for a part.” Tim felt something gnawing at the back of his brain. “I don’t know. I know about this stuff in theory. I’m not very experienced.” “That’s fine. No training required.” “I haven’t read a script.” “You won’t need to.” Fuck. Another extra non-speaking role. “Oh.” “We’re going for a mostly improv style. We’re testing equipment and tracking capability as much as acting. We just need someone who can think on their feet. Being cute helps too. Tim brightened. “Cute?” The receptionist didn’t say anything to that. Just shrugged. “Um. Okay. I could use the work.” Then he thought to ask, “Does it pay?” Blondie nodded. “One hundred and thirty five dollars for a day’s work.” Tim mulled it over in his brain. Not the regular paycheck he was hoping for, but not bad for a random prank. “That’s just one day,” she added. “If you gel well with us, we’ll hire you back.” Tim arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?” “Yeah. We’ve got a small but tight knit group. A kind of new age theater troupe. If you’re a good fit for us, we’ll take care of you.” Tim was intrigued. Tim was hopeful. To be honest, Tim was desperate. “How much?” “Between twenty and thirty thousand a year.” The young actor exhaled. It wasn’t Hollywood money but it was still good money. If he was being honest with himself, it might be comparable to playing an inept comedic relief on a doomed to fail Disney Channel Original. The idea beat the hell out of working for the phone company. “Who do I need to talk to?” “You’re talking to her. I’m the casting director.” “You’re are?” The blonde woman smiled. “What? Did you think I was a secretary or something?” “Receptionist,” Tim admitted. “Why’d you come to the window and talk to me?” “You asked for help.” she said. She took his hand and stood up. “What’s your name, cutie?” “Tim.” “Come on, Tim. I'll get you to Wardrobe.” *********************************************************************************************************** Tim looked at himself and frowned. “Are you sure this is the right costume?” It was at least the seventh time he’d asked, not that he’d been counting… His costume consisted of black baggy shorts that stopped just above his knee, a yellow t-shirt, a red baseball cap and matching sneakers. It was embarrassing. He couldn’t get a good look at himself, but he knew he looked like a total doofus. The Baseball cap for whatever reason had a little propeller on top. The sneakers didn’t have laces, just Velcro. The shorts didn’t have pockets. It looked like something a kindergartener, no, a pre-kindergartener would wear. “You look great,” the casting director assured him. “Very cute. Just like your headshots.” Tim had unfortunately assumed that the blonde lady had meant sexy instead of adorable. Tim sighed. A paycheck was a paycheck. Even a day’s pay meant something besides ramen for dinner tonight and he could afford internet for another month. A regular gig meant paying rent without borrowing more from his parents or going to a call center. And from the looks of it, this place might just have money to burn. They were on a soundstage, but the production company had gone to absurd lengths to make it seem like they were in a stereotypical suburban neighborhood. The walls were painted masterfully to seem like an outdoor sky and a surrounding neighborhood. And this place might not have been Disney, but it definitely knew how to use forced perspective. Tim had had to do a lap around the perimeter just to convince himself that his eyes were playing tricks on him (or that something was playing tricks on his eyes) Even the lights in the rafters were bright and warm enough, that Tim could have sworn he was outside on a hot summer afternoon. The centerpiece of this soundstage was an entire house, front and back lawn included. It wasn’t until he’d experimented with plucking a few blades of grass that he confirmed the stuff was some kind of fancy astroturf. There was a playground in the backyard, and circling the house, he’d gotten enough of a view to know that it wasn’t just a set piece. This was crazy. This was Tommy Wiseau levels of intricate and wasteful. Then again, according to the Disaster Artist, Tommy Wiseau was more than a terrible writer, actor, and director: He was also loaded and could somehow afford ridiculous stuff like filming outdoor scenes in doors. This lot wasn’t using simple things like basic inside sets and separate exterior shots. This place, it seemed, could build an entire house in a soundstage and go to the trouble of making it look like it wasn’t. And, if the casting director was to be believed, then pieces of this would be turned into a kind of motion capture animation. This kind of thing took Wiseau level money and Wiseau level crazy. Yeah. They could afford him. Tim could swallow his pride and take their money. Even with the behind the scenes look at the money sink that was The Room, that bomb still had things this place didn’t. Tim looked around. “Where’s the recording equipment?” he asked. “The microphones and cameras and stuff?” “Around,” the blonde woman said. Tim was still having a hard time “We’ve got little hidden cameras everywhere. They’ll be honed in and record everything you say and do. You and your costar, both.” “Co-star?” As if on cue, a woman came out of the house. She was that age that some women matured into- that ambiguous kind of beauty that could have been mid thirties to early fifties that no gambling man would have taken odds on. Long dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and thick black rimmed glasses framed her face. The woman had a certain maternal expression that Tim couldn’t quite put his finger on that he found oddly attractive. In terms of stereotypes, she might not be beach babe anymore, but could definitely pass for a M.I.L.F. Tim thought it odd that she came out of the house. He’d seen no hint of movement in the house, and he’d come in through a side entrance after changing into his ridiculous costume. Did she live in the fake house? Was it even a fake house if someone was living in it? On the bright side, Tim no longer felt like an idiot. The dark haired lady wore a black dress, that while concealing, still managed to accentuate her breasts and hips. It might have been sexy if not for the alphabet print splattered all over the dress. The A’s all looked vaguely like alligators, the M’s looked like monkeys, and the D’s had a pink doughnut glaze. Her dress wasn’t just an ‘Alphabet Dress’ but looked more like a ‘Baby’s First Alphabet Dress.’ The not-quite Kindergarten teacher vibe the woman was given off was only enhanced by the white apron tied around her front, and oddly magnified by the green jeweled brooch she wore around her neck and the matching earrings. To top it all off, she wore a plain black pointed hat. She was Miss Frizzle from Magic School Bus meets Samantha Stephens from Bewitched and Tim couldn’t help but feel oddly welcomed by it all. That was the weird thing about costumes: They were bizarre until you were around other people wearing them. Then they were kind of fun. Maybe that’s why cosplay was so popular these days. She looked like a weird kind of teacher-witch. He looked like a doofus manbaby. In other words, they looked like cartoon characters. He could work with this. “Hello Cynthia!” the newcomer said to the casting director. Shit! It had been close to forty five minutes by this point, and Tim had yet to even ask the blonde lady her name. The two women hugged. “Hello, Auntie Marie,” the casting director said before ending the embrace. “Ready to go to work?” “Ah-ah-ah,” the witchy woman said. “First thing’s first.” She looked at Tim. “Who is this little cutie that I’ll be working with?” While she hadn’t been talking directly to him, Tim felt obliged to speak up. “Nice to meet you, Miss Marie,” Tim said. He extended his hand. Neither woman said anything. The casting director just looked off to the side, averting her gaze, while the lady in the witch getup just stared at him as his hand hung in the air. It was almost like she expected something. Tim looked her in the eye, but a glare in her glasses was just enough to prevent him. Instead his eyes went a little lower. Her brooch seemed to flash a bit; glow even. Tim dropped his hand. “I kind of just walked in off the street, but I’ve got some experience act-” He was cut off as the woman practically engulfed him without warning. “Two things you should learn about me right off the bat, Timmy,” she said. “The first thing is that I never shake hands. I hug.” Timmy? Ugh. Tim hated that nickname. He hadn’t been Timmy since second grade. Something was off. “Wait,” Tim squeaked out, still in the woman’s grasp, “how did you know my-?” “The second thing you should know is that my name is Auntie Marie,” the witch lady interrupted again. Finally, she released her hug and Tim could breathe again. “You have to say the whole thing. It’s like The Weekend, or The Band Perry. I’m Auntie Marie. Not Auntie. Not Marie. Nor Miss Marie. Auntie Marie. Okay? Tim nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Playfully, the witch woman put her hands on her hips. “Yes…?” “Yes, Auntie Marie.” Auntie Marie looked at him again. The glare from her glasses were gone, but Tim swore her brooch glowed again. She turned to Cynthia, the casting director and said, “Oh, I like him.” Both women broke out in laughter, leaving Tim bewildered. “Excuse me,” Tim interrupted their cackling. “How did you know my name?” The blonde lady raised her hand. “I told her while you were getting changed.” Oh. Oh yeah. That made sense. “So what are we going to be doing today?” Tim asked. His face started to flush, feeling silly for suspecting something was amiss. “I’m the casting director, as well as director of photography.” Cynthia explained. “And I’ll also be helping with editing and animation, but that’s in post.” Auntie Marie gestured to herself. “And I’m the lead writer, actor, and editor. I’ll be playing the part of Auntie Marie, the helpful witch that is everyone’s auntie.” “Uh-huh,” Tim nodded. This was definitely a Tommy Wiseau situation. Had to be. “Why, auntie?” The woman just stared at him, her hands back on her hips, her eyebrow arched. “I mean...Why are you everyone's auntie, Auntie Marie?” “Because the best part about being an auntie is that I get to play with the kids, but then give them back to their parents when we’re all done.” Tim looked down at his costume. “And I’m a kid?” Duh! Of course he was. “I mean, I’m playing a kid?” “You got it right the first time, Timmy.” A thin smile shown on Auntie Marie’s face. “Auntie Marie’s a bit of a method actor,” Cynthia jumped in. “She almost never breaks character.” “I’m not playing a character.” Cynthia shrugged. “See what I mean?” Maybe this is why they had that walkout, today. She handed Tim an earpiece. “Put this in,” she said. “This will let me communicate with you in case there’s some blocking issues or a better shot to be had from one of the hidden cameras.” Auntie Marie turned her head to side and pointed to herself. “It also plays mood music.” Tim put his ear piece in and blanched. “Mood music?” “You know how shows and movies put in music to make something seem sillier or heavier? More emotional?” Cynthia asked “Yeah?” “That’s typically done in post, only. With these ear pieces you can kind of hear of the soundtrack of the film.” “It’s a godsend” Auntie Marie said. “Knowing the soundtrack really informs your choices as an actor.” “Kind of like how they piped in live music when filming Les Mis?” Tim asked. Both Cynthia and Auntie Marie clapped their hands. “Exactly!” they said. “I can see why you liked him,” Auntie Marie said to Cynthia. “Perfect for the part.” Cynthia faced Tim. “Right. So first thing’s first. This is going to be mostly improvisation.” Tim nodded. He remembered this part. “We’re also going to try to get most of it in just one take.” ONE TAKE?! The surprise and shock on his face must have shown, because both women took up comforting, non-threatening positions next to him. “Timmy will be fine.” Auntie Marie chimed in. “I’ve got a good feeling about him.” Tim swallowed. “It’s, Tim.” he corrected Auntie Marie. “Tim is the actor.” Auntie Marie replied. “Timmy is the child who has come to visit his dear Auntie Marie while his parents are out shopping.” She booped him on the nose with the tip of her finger. “Right,” Tim remembered. “Method acting.” Cynthia turned around and started walking out of the sound stage. “I’ll be headed up to the control room. I’ll let you know in your earpiece when we’re ready to start.” It took two long minutes for Cynthia to get ready. “So how many times have you…?” Auntie Marie’s finger pressed up against his lips. “Shush, dear. Let’s use this time to get into character.” Tim had to close his mouth and quietly nod his head to get Auntie Marie to remove it. And step back. After two minutes, Cynthia’s voice buzzed in Tim’s earpiece. “Testing. Testing. I’m in the control room. Testing. Testing. Auntie Marie can you hear me?” The witch woman nodded and flashed a thumbs up in the air. “Roger that. Timmy? Can you hear me.” Tim bristled at being called Timmy, but he gave a thumbs up, hoping the hidden cameras caught him. “Things are good to go on this end.” Cynthia said. “We’ll do our first and hopefully only take in five, four, three...” the earpiece buzzed out. Auntie Marie finished the countdown silently on her fingers. Two fingers. One finger. Action. ********************************************************************************************************** Once upon a time, there was a little baby boy, named Timmy. Timmy thought he was a big boy, but he was just pretending. Timmy was a great pretender. He liked to pretend that he slept in a big boy bed and that he could drink from a big boy cup and that he had a big boy job and big boy house. Timmy was so silly, he even pretended that his diapers were big boy undies and that he could use the big boy potty. But Auntie Marie knew what to do. When Timmy came to visit her, she used her magic to dress him up in big boy clothes, a big boy T-shirt and a big boy hat, big boy shoes, and even big boy pants and undies. “I’m so glad you could come and visit me, Timmy” Auntie Marie said. “Me too!” Timmy said. He was so excited! Auntie Marie pointed at the outfit she had magicked onto her nephew. “I love your big boy clothes.” Timmy gave Auntie Marie a big smile. “Me too! They’re super neato!” “I bet you’re super proud that you’re out of diapers and can use the big boy potty all by yourself.” “Um...yeah?” Timmy was confused because he couldn’t actually remember having gone potty before. It had all been pretend up to this point, and even though Timmy was a very good pretender, he wasn’t so good as to pretend into memory something he didn’t know how to do. “I can’t wait to see all the neat big boy things you can do now that you’re a big boy, Timmy!” Just then, Timmy heard a sound he’d never heard before. It was like the little tinkling of a bell. Timmy had to go potty. He’d never heard that tinkling little bell before because he’d never actually gone potty. When big boys and girls have to go potty, they hear the little tinkling of a bell that lets them know. Do you sometimes hear the tinkling of a little bell, dearie? No. Of course you don’t. You’re not big, either. Maybe you’re just silly and pretending like Timmy was. Timmy could only hear the tinkling sound because of Auntie Marie’s magic. He wasn’t really ready to be a big boy, and Auntie Marie was going to teach him just that. “Um...Marie?” Timmy felt funny inside. He put his hands over his pee-pee place and squeezed hard. He’d never done that before! It didn’t feel good at all! “It’s Auntie Marie, Timmy. Remember?” “Auntie Marie…” Timmy said. “I have to...to…” Timmy didn’t have the words. He’d never really asked anyone to go potty before. He was used to nice grown-ups like his Auntie Marie and his Mommy and Daddy and babysitters just checking his diaper to see if needed changing. If it got really bad, Timmy would cry and cry and cry until a grown-up changed him. But he’d never used his words like this before. Auntie Marie decided to help Timmy. “You have to go pee-pee?” Timmy blushed and nodded his head. He was so embarrassed because deep down he knew he wasn’t a big boy. There’s a fine line, little ones, between pretending and lying, and Timmy wasn’t sure which one he was doing. Auntie Marie took Timmy’s hand. “Then let’s go inside, quick,” she said. “You can show me how good you are at going potty now that you’re going potty.” So she took his hand and led him inside. *********************************************************************************************************** Tim allowed himself to be led inside the faux suburban house. His head was on a swivel. Where was the bathroom? Where was the bathroom? He had to pee like a racehorse! Yeah, he’d been vaguely aware of needing to pee when the hidden cameras started rolling, (and damn were they hidden), but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t hold or work through. Then he’d heard a little jingling sound in his ear piece and suddenly his bladder was in full overdrive. Tim couldn’t think straight. His bladder had gone from a state of barely registering and might need to take a break in an hour or two to the feeling of being in an eight hour traffic jam and it was time to start searching the car for empty soda bottles if he didn’t want to piss himself. Auntie Marie was even worse: Asking him if he needed to pee as if he were a two year old and leading him into the house by the hand. Lady wasn’t kidding about not breaking character and doing it all in one take. It had been so humiliating to have to play along, but the number one rule of improv was “yes, and…” Hopefully there were no hidden cameras in the bathroom. That was against the law, wasn’t it? Tim wasn’t going to get the chance to find out. Instead of the bathroom, Tim was half dragged half led to the middle of what appeared to be a living room. A T.V. sat across from a comfortable sofa, and in between the two pieces of furniture sat a potty. Not a toilet; a potty. A big plastic bowl to piss in. Had it been made of metal it might have been an old timey chamber pot or a large bedpan. This was made of thick blue plastic, like a cooler, and had a toilet seat with a splash guard in the front. The rim was decorated with cartoon bees, all smiling up at him, inviting him to sit on their stingers. Auntie Marie gestured dramatically, theatrically like a Shakespearean actress past her prime. “I’ve got your big boy potty all set up! Ready” Tim froze. They weren’t…? Were they actually expecting…? Was he supposed to…? He shook his head and mouthed the word, “No.” “Or do you need Auntie Marie’s help?” The witchy woman’s broach seemed to glow green again. “I can do it!” Tim yelped. “I mean, um. I’m a big boy!” Damnit! Legs pressed together to conceal his junk. As quick as he could, Tim slid his shorts and underwear down and lowered himself onto the potty. He was full to the point of bursting and had quickly past the point of caring. JESUS IT WAS COLD! It was like all of those drawn on bees had decided he was their enemy and had stingers made of ice. Tim felt like he jumped an inch in the air right after sitting down. “Cold?” Auntie Marie asked, her voice tinged with sympathy. Tim nodded. “Uh-huh. A little.” That was a lie. It was A LOT cold. “You haven’t been using the potty very long, so you’re not used to it. Diapers are much warmer, aren’t they, Timmy?” Tim didn’t know how to respond to that. He hadn’t been in diapers since before he could remember. So instead he just averted his gaze. “Maybe…” he whispered. “Show Auntie Marie what a big boy you are,” the witchy woman coaxed. “Just let it all out. I’ll be right here watching.” Fuck. Those were the exact wrong words at the exact wrong moments. Tim had developed both a case of overactive bladder and shy bladder simultaneously. The seat was inhumanly cold and not warming up AND this stranger was staring at him. Tim shut his eyes and tried to block out the world. All he had to do was relax his bladder and let nature take its course. Yeah. That was it. Just relax his bladder. Just stop the polar ice caps from melting. Just invent the cure for Ebola. That’s all he had to do. Easy as that. “I...I...can’t,” he mumbled. Auntie Marie stuck out her bottom lip. “Awww, that’s too bad. Maybe it was a false alarm.” She reached out her hand and took Tim’s arms, pulling him to his feet. “False alarms happen to little boys who aren’t used to the potty yet.” “But I’m a big boy,” Tim said without meaning to. “Of course you are.” Auntie Marie winked at him. She stepped to the side and pinched his cheek, condescendingly. It wasn’t a false alarm. Tim still desperately needed to pee. Improv be damned. They’d just have to do this in two takes. Time to break character. Pants still around his ankles, Tim asked “Can I use your…?” Before Timmy could finish his sentence, a new sound came through his ear piece. It sounded like a xylophone playing a tuneless song. It wasn’t tuneless, however, just random. If it had had lyrics, they would have gone something like “I’m a big kid look what I can Doe a deer a female deer, ray a drop of golden Sun, Sun, Mr. Golden Sun. Please shine down on me!” ************************************************************************************************************ Little Timmy had an accident! Just like a baby, Timmy piddled all over the carpet and down his legs while he stood still. Even though he’d been sitting on the potty just a few seconds before, not a single drop had made it into the potty. Timmy was used to wearing diapers and just didn’t know how to go potty, even though he was really good at pretending. He wasn’t ready to be a big boy. “I’m so sorry!” Timmy said after he’d gotten all his pee-pees out. “I didn’t mean to! I swear! I didn’t mean to.” Timmy looked like he was about to cry. He normally only cried like that when he got an owie or when his diaper leaked. Going tinkle all over Auntie Marie’s carpet and down his legs was like the biggest leakiest diaper he’d ever had. Timmy hated it. Deep down, Timmy wished he could admit that he was a baby, but he just couldn’t stop pretending. He didn’t know how. “I didn’t mean to,” Timmy kept saying. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to!” Auntie Marie looked cross. “You didn’t mean to…?” Then Timmy remembered his manners. “I didn’t mean to, Auntie Marie!” Auntie Marie patted her nephew on the head. “Of course you didn’t, Timmy,” she said. “You haven’t been potty trained for that long. And little boys still have accidents sometimes.” This time, Timmy didn’t argue and say he was a big boy. He knew better. “What do I do now?” Timmy asked. Auntie Marie looked at the mess Timmy had made. “I’ll clean this up,” she said. “But I don’t want you making another mess in my house.” She reached into her magical apron pocket and pulled out a pull-up. “I’ll need you to wear one of these just in case.” “But I don’t...I mean I can’t...I don’t wanna wear diapers!” Timmy whined. Auntie had already grabbed a packet of wipes from her magical apron and was wiping down Timmy’s pee-pee covered legs. Auntie Marie popped open the Pull-Up and like a good boy, Timmy stepped in. “It’s not a diaper. It’s a Pull-Up,” she told Timmy. “You can still pull it on and off like your big boy underwear, but it will soak up any accidents you make.” “I’m not gonna have another accident,” Timmy said in his best pretend big boy voice. “I pwomise...I mean, promise!” Auntie Marie shushed Timmy by putting her finger to his lips. “I know, Timmy. I know,” she said. “That’s why you’ll only be wearing it just in case. You used to wear these all the time when you were first learning to use the potty, remember?” Timmy looked unsure of himself. That’s because he’d never worn a Pull-Up before. Just like you, dearie, he was only pretending. “Uh-huh...?” Timmy said. Auntie Marie pulled the new pull-ups onto Timmy since he still didn’t know how to dress himself. Then she reached into her magic apron pocket and pulled out a juice box. “Here, Timmy. Have some punch. You’ll love it.” Timmy took the juice box and watched as Auntie Marie put the straw in for him. “Um...okie. Auntie Marie.” He smiled super big for her as she led him out to her backyard. “You can play on my playground while I clean up your accident. I’ll be right back. Okay?” Timmy nodded, really pretending to be a little boy with all his might. “Okie dokie, Auntie Marie, I’ll be the bestest little boy I can be and play all by myself.” Auntie Marie patted him on the head. “I know you will. But finish your juice, first. It’s important.” ************************************************************************************************************* With a swat on his butt, Timmy stumbled out into the faux backyard, juice box in hand. He was barefoot, wearing a pull-up instead of his studio issued costume, and was alone without any other actor to play off of. Timmy would have expected some kind of direction from Cynthia in the control room, but he could hear only the faintest of static coming from his ear piece. He didn’t really want to be out here, but Auntie Marie told him to play out here. He couldn’t say no to Auntie Marie, however. She had a presence about her that for some reason he could not cross. When she talked he just wanted to make her happy. Oh yeah, and she was the lead in this improv scenario. Not knowing what else to do he sat down on the nearby swing set. It was a rinky dink little thing. A one seater. But Auntie Marie probably didn’t have more than one kid visit at any given time. The only other swing didn’t count in Timmy’s mind. It was a harness seat; the kind used for babies. Speaking of Timmy’s mind, something else was gnawing at him. Didn’t he hate being called Timmy? Wasn’t it Timothy? Time? No. That felt wrong. Then again, a lot of this felt wrong. Sipping on his juice box, Timmy lifted up his shirt and stared down at the pull-up he was wearing. A cartoon bee was resting on his pubic area, sitting on a potty and giving him a smiling thumbs up. Further below near his crotch was a little honeycomb sketch. Timmy wasn’t experienced with kids, but he knew from enough random commercials and cultural osmosis that if he had an accident, that honeycomb would fade away at the first sign of wetness. There wouldn’t be any wetness, Timmy knew. He was a big boy. No, a grown-up….a big boy. No point in thinking about the impossible. When Timmy’s straw started gurgling, he let the juice box drop to the ground. If he was supposed to play, he’d just improvise and play. It might not be very exciting, but it was what he’d been hired to do. He rose from the swing and climbed the nearby slide. It wasn’t anything fancy, just an inclined plane with a ladder. Three feet tall at most. Experimentally, he climbed the ladder, feeling rather silly and exposed once he got up to the top. “This is a closed set,” he reminded himself. It didn’t matter that he was half naked and wearing what was functionally a diaper without the little tapes. This was just acting. This was just pretend. Taking a deep breath, Timmy sat down on the slide, grabbed the railing at the top, and PUSHED. The trip was short and fast, his bare feet hitting the ground only a second or so later. But he liked it. He liked it! It was a rush. Timmy got up and ran around to the ladder so he could climb the three feet again. The second time, he slid down with his arms up in the air. The third time he picked his legs up and skidded into the grass bottom first. He’d lost count by the time he started going down face first like Superman. At some point he’d lost his hat, but he didn’t care. Superman didn’t wear a hat, so why should he? It had become a weird kind of game within a game. How many different ways, Timmy wondered how many different positions and poses he could strike going down the slide. Barrel roll. Backwards. Sideways. Standing up? Could he do it standing up? Stay on his feet the entire way down? Timmy never got to find out. Just as Timmy was climbing to the top of the slide and figuring out how he could do it, he heard that strange music in his earpiece. Again, it was a cut and paste of different xylophone music, mixed with some kazoo for good measure. There were no words, but the lyrics in Timmy’s mind seemed to go, “Mommy WOW! I’m-a-big-kid Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, Tomorrow! You’re only a Day-O! Day-O! Daylight come and me wanna go Home, home on the range!” He felt his pull-up warming before he felt his bladder releasing. Lifting his shirt back up to his belly-button, he stared. “MARIE!” he screamed. “AUNTIE MARIE!” The back door flung open, and in a blur, Auntie Marie dashed out. “Timmy! What’s wrong honey! Are you stuck on the slide, little boy?” From his perch on the slide Timmy felt every bit the cat stuck up in a tree. He looked down at Auntie Marie, her kind, reassuring face looking up at him. Already her arms were reaching out to help him down. Something was different about her. Her black dress no longer had the animal alphabet motif on it. Instead, the black cloth was dotted with pictures of safety pins, storks, and rattles. Baby stuff. What hadn’t changed was her pretty face, or her glowing green brooch. “Let’s get you down from there, Timmy.” “Okay…” he sniffed. With Auntie Marie grabbing him by the waist, Timmy was amazed as she lifted him off the top of the slide and placed him on her hip. His amazement was short-lived. He felt a certain warm squishiness between his legs as Auntie Marie pressed him to her hips. Without warning, the witchy woman pulled open one of the leg holes on his pull-up and stuck two of her fingers inside. Timmy could only freeze in embarrassment as he, big boy that he was, had his pants checked like a baby. The fact that he’d wet his pants had only made it worse. ********************************************************************************************************* “Ooooh,” Auntie Marie said. “That’s why you were crying. You wet your diaper.” That only made baby Timmy cry all the harder. “It’s not a diaper,” he said. “I’m wearing a pull-up.” Auntie Marie bounced him on her hip and rubbed his back. “It is a pull-up. But you used it like a diaper, sweetie. You haven’t been in pull-ups very long. I don’t think you’re ready to be a big boy just yet. I think it’s time we put you back in diapers. Won’t that be nice?” Timmy didn’t think that was nice. He’d spent so long pretending he was a big boy, that he’d gotten fussy when Auntie Marie had told him the game was over. But being a grown-up who knew what was best, Auntie Marie just carried the fussy boy back into her living room and laid him down on a changing pad on her couch. Reaching into her magic apron pocket, she pulled out a pacifier and put in Timmy’s mouth. Like a good baby, which is what Timmy was deep down, Timmy started sucking on the binky. He stopped fussing a little bit. Pinning him down with one hand, Auntie Marie reached again into her magic apron pocket and got the diaper bag that Timmy’s parents had left for him when he got. Timmy was still feeling very silly, saying things like “Mo,” and “Iya ik oy”, and squirming all over the changing pad. That didn’t stop Auntie Marie, though. She’d changed lots of little babies and Timmy was no exception. In no time at all, Auntie Marie ripped open the sides of the old yucky wet pull-up, wiped Timmy down with more baby wipes, slid a fresh poofy diaper underneath him and put it on. “There we go,” she said, as she taped up Timmy’s brand new diaper. “I bet that feels soooo much better.” It did. “Mmm..hmmm?” Timmy agreed. He still felt very silly and blushed. It was hard to pretend to be a big boy when everyone could see his diaper. Auntie Marie picked Timmy up and put him in his playpen that had replaced the potty in the middle of the living room. “Now you play here with your toys. Auntie Marie has to tidy up around the house” ************************************************************************************************************ Fever dream. That was the most logical explanation. Fever dream. Any minute now, Timmy would wake up, and he’d be sick as a dog, but he’d be in his house, and not at his Auntie Marie’s. He didn’t even have an Auntie Marie, did he? He was in a diaper for Chrissakes! Now all the cartoon bees on his waist had diapers on too. No wetness indicator this time. As far as the diaper was concerned, as far as Auntie Marie was concerned, wetness was a ‘when’ not an ‘if’. He’d thought the pull-ups were thick. The pull-ups had felt like he’d put on several pairs of big boy undies at once. This diaper was like there was a pillow taped around his hiney! And now he was in a playpen, surrounded by plastic blocks and sucking on a pacifier! Improv be darned, this needed to stop. This wasn’t worth all the noodles in the world! Leaning forward, Timmy gripped the rail of the playpen and pulled himself up. He was able to stand for about as long as it took for a single trip down the slide in the backyard. Within two seconds he’d plopped back down, his diaper more than cushioning his fall. His tummy started making funny sounds. “Affi Mree!” he called. Looking down past his nose, Timmy only now realized that he’d forgotten to spit out his paci. “AUNTIE MARIE!” he repeated his call. ************************************************************************************************************ Auntie Marie came rushing to the playpen to see what was the matter. “Yes, Timmy?” she said. “What’s wrong? Do you want a blankie for a nap?” “No!” Timmy pouted with his arms crossed over his chest. “I want out of this playpen!” Auntie Marie giggled at the silly baby. “But a playpen is a perfectly good place for a baby like you,” Timmy wasn’t done pretending yet. He grabbed the bars of his playpen and leaned on them so that he could pretend he was walking. “Let me out!” he shouted. “I’m not a baby! I’m not! I’m not!” Auntie Marie giggled at the silly baby. Now it was Auntie Marie’s turn to say silly things. “Yes,” she said. “You’re a big boy. That’s why I’m babysitting you.” “You’re not…” “That’s why you’re wearing a diaper.” “But you…?” “That’s why you were sucking on your paci.” “That’s not…” “And that’s why you’re holding yourself up in a playpen. Those all sound like really big boy things.” “None of those are big boy things!” Timmy yelled, not realizing how silly he sounded. Auntie Marie gave her nephew a kiss on the forehead. “But you’re doing all of them.” she said. “You’re doing something else too.” Timmy looked back over his shoulder. He heard the funniest noises coming from his diaper. He was already in the middle of doing something that big boys didn’t ever...ever do. That’s when he stopped pretending. *********************************************************************************************** “Baby shark-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, Baby shark doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo, Where are you? We’ve got some work to do now. Scooby Dooby Doo Where is baby, where is baby, here he is, here he is!” The music! It had started again. When had it started again? Why hadn’t he taken the earpiece out?! It was too late, now, Timmy realized. He could feel himself slipping. Not just his physical footing, but his mental footing as well. He fell back down, the inside of his diaper warmer and mushier but no less comfortable. He didn’t want it to end like this, he didn’t want it to end. But like a drug overdose, there was a sense of euphoria enveloping him. He could love or hate it, but he couldn’t fight the good feelings that were happening to him. Above him, standing at the edge of his playpen, Auntie Marie smiled and cooed. Timmy wasn’t sure what she was saying now. Either she wasn’t speaking English, or Timmy couldn’t understand much English anymore. She was waving her hands all funny, too. That made him smile. Auntie Marie smiled back at Timmy. Her green necklace thing was still glowing all pretty. So pretty. So pretty. He laid back, sucked his thumb, grabbed his toesies, and let the last of his big boy thoughts out into his diaper. It felt nice. “Good baby.” Timmy understood those words. That was good. Those were some of the few words he’d need to understand from now on. ************************************************************************************************************* “Good baby,” Auntie Marie told Timmy. Timmy had finally stopped pretending. “I knew you were a little baby who was just pretending. Your Mommy and Daddy think so, too.” “Mama,” Timmy said. “Dada.” Timmy was happy. It was good to stop pretending and just be himself. DING-DONG! Auntie Marie walked over to the front door. “You’re right on time!” “Auntie Marie!” Mommy and Daddy greeted. All the grown-ups hugged. Auntie Marie let Timmy’s Mommy and Daddy inside. “Mama! Dada!” Timmy called. Mommy and Daddy were so happy to see that Timmy had finally stopped pretending to be a grown up and was back where he belonged. “We’re so happy that you stopped pretending to be a big boy.” Mommy said. “Now there are so many other games you can play.” “And we’ll be right there to play them with you and take care of you,” Daddy said. He lifted Timmy out of the playpen. “Forever and ever.” *********************************************************************************************************** “Aaaaaand cut,” Cynthia said over the earpieces. “We have more than enough footage for our purposes.” “Thank you, Cynthia,” Auntie Marie said. “We’ll take it from here.” The adults all took their earpieces out that had been informing them of Timmy’s progress. The man-baby’s mother helped take out his ‘special’ one that had helped speed up the process. “Thank you so much,” Timmy’s mom said. “We couldn’t have done this without you.” Timmy’s father added, “We had no idea that our boy was so deeply unhappy and unfit to be an adult. If you hadn’t found us and showed us that informational video, we might never have realized the truth about him.” He bounced Timmy up on his hip a little bit. Timmy only giggled and cooed at the grown-ups talking, and how nice he felt all over. The witchy woman gave the man-baby a gentle pat on his head and a cute little pinch on the cheek. “It was no trouble, at all,” she said. “Easy, really. It’s almost like he wanted it. I think deep down inside he knew the truth.” “Of course he did,” Timmy’s mom replied. “You showed us that, remember?” A wry smile came across Auntie Marie. “Of course…” Her brooch flashed once more, not that anyone consciously noticed it or understood its significance. Timmy’s mother’s nose wrinkled. “Speaking of memory,” she said, “I remember what that smell means.” She sidled up next to her husband and child and pulled back the latter’s diaper so she could take a look inside. “Yup. Thought so.” “She who smelt it deals with it,” Dad joked. “Oh you!” Mom scoffed. She took her big baby anyway. “Keep joking like that and I’ll put you back in diapers, too.” “That can be arranged…” The parents laughed at Auntie Marie’s joke. Timmy laughed too, if for no other reason than because his Mama and Dada were laughing. Auntie Marie just kept that same quiet smile. Mom patted the back of Timmy’s diaper and looked to the couch. “Can we use your changing pad there?” “It’s your changing pad, now.” Auntie Marie said. “But I’ll do you one better.” She led the family to a back room. In it was a nursery, perfectly sized for a baby Timmy’s size, including a changing table. Timmy had never had a changing table the first time around. Why spend money on a piece of furniture he’d outgrow? From now on, it would be a critical investment. Timmy cooed and babbled as he was laid on this one, a strap pulled snugly across his chest so he didn’t squirm too much. The boy’s eyes lit up as Auntie Marie maneuvered the mobile over his head and he reached for the hanging animals spinning slowly just out of reach. Timmy barely noticed as Mommy undid the tapes of his old diaper. He didn’t think about modesty or physics as Mommy lifted his legs in the air and started cleaning him up right in front of Daddy and Auntie Marie. He didn’t think much at all. He didn’t have to. Thinking was worrying, and Timmy was worry free. The wipes were cold, but not nearly as cold as that whatchamacallit had been...the weird chair with a hole in it. The diaper that didn’t fit in his pants. It wasn’t nearly as cold as that. This was refreshing and kind of wet. Timmy liked feeling wet. “Whoops!” Daddy through a cloth over Tommy’s pee-pee and Mommy laughed as it got wet as if by magic. “Gonna have to get used to that, hon.” Daddy said. Not that Timmy could understand. Mommy took the cloth off and finished wiping all of Timmy down. The dry diaper was nice and soft. The powder was cold, but it was a dry kind of cold and it smelled good besides. As Mommy was pulling up the diaper and taping it on, Timmy felt as if a part of him was finally coming into focus. First the left side, then the right. He was complete. The old diaper was forgotten about the moment it was in the can. Dry and clean was nice, too. For a little while, anyways. “What do you think of the nursery?” Auntie Marie asked when the first of many changes to come was complete. “It’s very nice,” Timmy’s father said as a compliment. That same wry smile had yet to fade from the witchy woman. “Good,” she said. “Because you’ll find his nursery will be very similar?” “Really?” Timmy’s mother asked. “That’s wonderful!” She undid the safety strap and picked her son up off the table and back into her arms. He nuzzled her head, grinning. “Of course,” Auntie Marie said. “What did you think the thirty thousand dollars was going towards? Diapers?” “Well...actually.” “They are going to the diapers, too, don’t worry.” she said. “You’re covered for a year. But your entire house has been retrofitted and baby-proofed. After a year, the expenses will level off and the diapers and food will be just another manageable expense.” She gave Timmy a friendly pinch on the cheek. “Perhaps cheaper overall since you won’t have to worry about Timmy growing out of any of his clothes.” “So like the first time he was a baby?” Daddy asked. Daddy’s eyes flashed in time with Auntie Marie’s broach. “This is the first time,” she told him. “Timmy’s always been a baby, it’s just that none of you realized it till now.” “Thank you so much,” Mommy gushed. “Don’t thank me,” Auntie Marie said. “Thank the Bay-Bee Corporation.” *********************************************************************************************************** “And we’ll be right there to play them with you and take care of you,” Daddy said. He lifted Timmy out of the playpen. “Forever and ever.” THE END The words flashed across the screen, but the movie was still playing. No credits just yet. Mark stared at the screen, slack jawed and eyes vacant; completely entranced by the amazing production he’d just seen. “Hello, sweetie,” Auntie Marie’s sweet loving voice came out of the headphones. “Did you like the movie?” Auntie Marie was talking to him! Mark was so excited, he felt a little extra pee-pee spurt into his diaper. Mark nodded. “Uh-huh!” He’d been fussy when he’d woken up in just the little t-shirt and the big diaper with the cartoon bees on it. He’d been downright cranky when he realized that he’d been put in a special high chair in front of a T.V. screen. But then Daddy had put the headphones on over his ears and Mommy had given him a kiss on the cheek. They’d turn on the T.V., left the room, and Mark had just watched the best movie he’d seen in his entire life. AND NOW AUNTIE MARIE WAS TALKING TO HIM! HOW COOL WAS THAT?! The screen flickered green, and Timmy came back on screen. But he wasn’t dressed the same as he was in the movie. It was less of a movie and now had become a highlight reel. Some shots he was in a onesie. Others a sailor suit, or shortalls, or jammies. He was naked in the bathtub, obviously. In more than a few he was just crawling around in just his diaper. It was a lot like home movies. Between each came another flash of green. “Timmy now lives at home with his Mommy and Daddy.” Auntie Marie’s soothing voice told Mark. “His favorite things to do are playing peekaboo with his Daddy, having long babbling conversations with his favorite teddy bear and stacking blocks. His current record is three whole blocks before the tower falls over. ” It was true. The proof was right there in the movie. As she narrated, more of that pretty music played. The music that had been playing every time Timmy had an accident and realized that he wasn’t as big as he thought he was. “Just like you, sweetie, Timmy pretended to be a big boy. And he pretended so hard that he believed it for a while. So Timmy’s parents had Auntie Marie show him that he was pretending.” Mark was nodding. Nodding and wishing his hands weren’t tied up. He desperately wanted to suck his thumb. “Are you ready to be a big kid honey?” Auntie Marie asked from the T.V. Little green flickers lit up the screen. “Noooooo….?” Mark’s eyes were blank, his voice mewling. His eyes were beginning to water, though he couldn’t for the life of him say why. It’s like some part of him knew what was coming and even more strangely, didn’t want it to happen. “Are you ready to stop pretending to be a grown-up and just be the baby you’ve always been?” The words were barely above a whisper, but they came. “Yes, ma’am…” “What?” “Yes, Auntie Marie.” “Are you ready to let all of those big kid thoughts go away?” “Yes, Auntie Marie.” “Do you want to be like Timmy, and be a happy baby for the rest of your life?” “Yes, Auntie Marie.” “Then do your best to be like Timmy and get ALLLLLLL the big boy thoughts out.” “Yes, Auntie Marie.” Those would be some of the last big boy words Mark would ever say. Not that he knew. Not that he cared. It was time to be like Timmy. “Ready.” Mark leaned forward and raised his diapered bum up just enough. “Set.” Mark felt the pressure in his tummy, gurgling. It was time. Time to let go and be a baby. Just like Timmy in the movie. He cheated a little bit and started pushing. But that was okay. If he’d been able to hold it, to really hold it, he wouldn’t have needed the diaper. He wouldn’t have been a baby. And just like Timmy, Mark was going to be a baby. “Go.” Mommy and Daddy were going to be so proud of him! After they changed him. (Fin)