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(Inspired by works of alteredstates14, with permission. https://www.deviantart.com/alteredstates14) “How much longer are we going to stand for this injustice!? I’ll tell you how long—not one more day! We are not little girls! We are not toddlers! We are grown women! And not even our mothers can take that away from us!” The women’s resistance group had all rallied behind Eri’s speech. Why shouldn’t they? Their country’s legislation was getting completely out of hand. Every day, it seemed like there was a new law being passed, all for the sole purpose of putting them down. No drinking, or smoking. There was even a nationwide curfew for women under a certain age. It was like a prohibition on their adulthood. But that was only the tip of the iceberg. Projected on the screen behind Eri was a newspaper article, showing one of their country’s young women dressed to look like an oversized toddler. Some of the audience recognized the young woman in the photo as one of their former members, who had been noticeably absent during their recent meetings. The article itself was nothing short of slander. It reports woman under a certain age will be mandated in the future to have their maturity officially tested. From doctor’s offices to government buildings, no place would be safe for them. The group knew they needed to mobilize their protest soon before more people got caught up in this ridiculousness. Eri banged her fist on the podium. “We are eighteen years old, not eighteen months! Pampers and playdates are parts of our past, not our future! I refuse to let these ridiculous laws turn that around!” The crowd of young women cheered, echoing Eri’s sentiments. They agreed to take their protest to the streets soon. In these trying and political times, the resistance meetings had become a beacon of hope for those attending. As today’s meeting came to a close, one young woman in attendance was feeling especially inspired. She had approached the group leader, Eri, at her podium while she was busy packing up. “That was an amazing speech you gave today,” said Hana. At her petite frame and short stature, Hana was the perfect target for the country’s propaganda. By the judging eyes of many, Hana didn’t look at all old enough to take care of herself. It was an unfortunate notion she found herself being reminded of frequently. “It needed to be said. I’m not going to let some new BS laws rule my life. These types of things don’t change unless someone speaks out against them. I refuse to have my voice be pacified by some pompous lawmaker.” Eri spoke with complete confidence. That was not a hint of doubt in her voice. Eri fully believed she was on the right side of history. It was that same sense of righteousness that struck Hana so deeply. Hana didn’t simply admire Eri. Her words were beacons of hope in these changing and confusing times. It was reassuring to hear someone echo her thoughts so brazenly. “To be honest, I was starting to have doubts myself.” Hana couldn’t muster up much courage and didn’t consider her turn of phrase nearly as compelling as Eri’s, so she decided to cut to the chase. “When I told my mother I wanted to study abroad, she nearly popped a gasket. All she would talk about is how I’m still too immature, or that I don’t know anything about the outside world.” Hana shuttered at the possibility of incurring her mother’s wrath. The thought alone made her uneasy. She shook her head, lifting herself back up. “But you’re right, Eri! I am an adult! I don’t need anyone’s permission to go out and see the world. This semester, I’m traveling overseas, whether she approves or not!” Just saying it aloud was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She only wished would be around to join her friends when the protests took the streets. Eri nodded. “Hell yeah. That’s what I like to hear. That’s real progress at work. None of that baby propaganda they spout all day. You go for it, show your mama just how wrong she was about you.” Young women were finally gaining their independence back. And the mothers of this country would not be having it. It was clear a change had to be made. It was not clear how they found out about the meetings. Perhaps one of the young women had tattled to their mothers. Perhaps one of them had their clothing chipped the night before. Whatever the case, the parent soon formed together their meeting, to stop their children from plotting under their noses. One way or another, the resistance would fall. All the mothers in attendance promised to make sure of that. *** “Jun, could you come downstairs? There is something important I need to discuss with you.” Jun yawned and stretched, making a groggy descent downstairs. A year, and some change, of unemployment had made her used to waking and sleeping at odd hours of the day. She tried to be more organized, and more mature, like her friends had preached. The change proved a challenge to her, all the same. Deal with it tomorrow, she said. There was always tomorrow… “Yeah, mom? Did you need something?” As Jun climbed down the stairs, she could hear the voice of a familiar radio hostess entering through a clear signal. “…Yes, well that’s a great question. Thank you for calling us. I think oftentimes we, as parents, second guess our judgment the older our kids get. We’d like to think that their judgment improves with age, but that sometimes isn’t the case. To answer your question; no, you are not a monster. No, you are not out of line. No, there is nothing wrong with wanting to put your daughter back—” *CLICK* Her mother turned off the radio. A look of deep contemplation was etched on her face. She let out an exhausted sigh and resumed her work. She was folding laundry in the kitchen, nothing even turning or pausing to face her daughter. “Do I need something?” Mother’s tone was stiff. The casual question was shot back like a lethal round. “There isn’t anything you want to tell me?” “No…?” Jun’s voice trailed off thoughtfully. She tried to remember anything she had done recently to warrant such a reaction. Whatever she did, or did not do, she started feeling guilty. Mother was not budging. If anything, she looked more agitated, like her daughter was trying to hide something in plain sight. “You know how much I value honesty, Jun. I put up with your habits because I trust you will eventually grow out of them. And, that you will always be honest with me. I am going to give you one last chance. If there is anything you have been hiding from—anything—tell me now.” There was one thing she could think of, but that was… “Mother, please. I’m not hiding anything.” Mother didn’t respond. Not with words, at least. Instead, Mother decided to drop her retort on the kitchen table between them both. A laundry basket was overturned, and out spilled Jun’s discarded bedsheets. Mother slammed an open plan on the kitchen table. “So, you were never going to tell me about this? About how you’ve been hiding your wet sheets from me? You don’t even do your laundry, for goodness’ sake. I was going to find out soon enough.” Jun was floored. She was caught red-handed, sheet-soaked. She had gotten lazy, in this case, with her hiding, and was now paying the price for it. “I…ahh…” Jun wanted to say something, but the stained sheet said everything for her. Her voice failed her, delivering only weak gasps instead of clever lies. But before Jun could even fester up a retort, Mother sharply snapped back. “Don’t even try to lie your way out of this one. I know what bed-wetting looks like. This isn’t my first rodeo. At least when you were little, this sort of thing was expected. But now… Well, what matters now is we make changes for tonight.” Mother said, dropping a package on the table. The soft teal and white package featured a grinning young woman, who couldn’t have been any older than twenty, lifting her shirt, and flashing her underwear. Except, calling them underwear was giving them too much credit. The product she was promoting guaranteed easy checks, wetness indicators, and overnight protection. It was a package of Snuggles brand pull-ups. “These are what you will be wearing for the next few nights. I already have everything planned out, and I don’t want to hear another word. Snuggles brand has an entire regiment on their website for this sort of thing. I’ve been keeping up with the news, but I never would have thought that it would all be true.” Mother shook her head “Young women from this country are regressing, that much is true. I just never imagined it would happen under my roof. What is wrong with this generation? No matter. If this is what it takes for you to start acting right, then so be it.” Jun could feel tears welling up. Becoming like one of those diaper-clad girls on the street and the news was just what she was trying to avoid. Now she was being sent down the same slippery slope as them. “Shhh. It’s okay.” Mother came around the table, comforting her with a hug. “I know it feels like I’m being harsh, but this is for your benefit. I only want to protect you. Please trust me on this.” Trust or not, Jun did not have much of a choice. Her fate fell in the hands of her mother, like so many other women in their country. All the girl could hope was that this would end soon. “…Jun. Did you wet the bed this morning?” All the girl could do was sniffle and nod her head. After her daughter was dismissed and returned upstairs, Mother went back to her chores, her pace slowing. She still wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing. It was true that her daughter was one of the few reported to be attending the resistance meetings. It was hard to think of Jun as passionate about anything or having the motivation to start a great change. Whatever the case, she knew she had to keep her daughter safe. She wished she hadn’t had to resort to such tactics, like drugging her daughter’s dinners to jump-start the nighttime accidents. She was only doing it to keep her Jun safe. Just being caught going to one of those meetings was a serious crime punishable with jail time. If a few accidents were what it took, then so be it. When Jun realized the limits of her maturity, she would hopefully give up these resistance dreams. *** “…Baby? Are you up yet?” Mother creaked the door open ever so slightly, enough to hear a possible response. Still snoozing and snoring. Go figure. Her baby always was a heavy sleeper anyway. Still, the day had to start eventually. Mother tiptoed to her daughter’s bedside, illuminated only by the glow of the smiling night light. She pulled back the blanket and pulled up the waistband of the pink unicorn pajama bottoms. She stuck two curious fingers into the back of her girl’s nighttime underwear, giving Mother all the confirmation that she needed. Her baby was always a heavy wetter, too. A change could not wait, definitely not. Mother shook her daughter on the shoulder, whispering into her ear. “Wake up, dearie. It’s time to start the day.” And when that failed to raise her, Mother leaned in closer and said, “Come on, now. I know you’ll feel much better once we get you into some dry undies.” The persuasion must have worked. Not even a moment later, the daughter’s eyes popped open, and she was face to face with her grinning mother. “M-mother?!” “Rina!” “Mother!” Rina scurried back to the head of her bed frame, pulling her covers close. “P-please, stop doing that!” “Oh, calm down, Rina. You act like this is the first time I’ve woken you up for a diaper change. It’s not even the first one this week.” “M-mother! I asked you not to call them that!” Mother didn’t see anything wrong with her word choice. Diapers are what they were, after all. They were designed to catch accidents of those not mature enough to prevent them themselves. However, her girl was still insistent on pretending they were something else. It was cute. Even at her age, her daughter still got wrapped up in games of pretend. “Oh, pardon me. Your ‘protective undergarments’ need a change this morning. Now, I don’t suppose you plan on keeping them soggy all day, do you?” “No,” Rina replied with under grumble. Rina didn’t have the strength to argue this morning. She instead chose to lie back in her usual position, on top of her bed covers, while Mother got to work. “Pe-yew!” Mother said, pinching her nose and fanning the air. “When was the last time my girl bathed herself? Before we do anything today, we need to take a trip to the tubby-tub.” “Oh, come on now.” Rina wanted to scream into her pillow. She knew that needed protection during the night, which put her on the same level as a younger class. But did her mom need to make everything sound so infantile? “I’ll go take a shower myself, okay? Just leave me alone already…” “Rina.” “Like it or not, I am still your mother. Like it or not, you still live under my house, under my rules. And one of those rules is no back sass. Now, if that’s too much for you, I can exercise my right as your parent, and check you into a certain facility that excels at giving mouthy little girls an attitude adjustment. Is that what you want?” “That’s my girl.” “Now then. Starting today, Mother is going to bathe you, and I won’t hear another word about it. After all, how can I expect you to keep your little tushy clean if you can’t even walk it to the bathroom at night?” “Aww, don’t pout, sweetie. Mother will have you squeaky clean in no time.” For Rina, the words were no comfort. Neither was the act of being scrubbed down as a grown woman while sitting in a bath of lukewarm water. Still, that was what happened. “We’re going out today.” Mother confirmed. “It is fair too nice for you to stay cooped up inside all afternoon. Trust me, we’ll have a great time. Now, lift your arms sweet pea. There we go!” Her daughter sufficiently seen as squeaky clean, she was toweled off, and the pair returned to Rina’s bedroom. However, Rina soon found herself pushed back on top of her bedspread.” “Ah, ah, ah. We aren’t done yet. What kind of parent would I be if you didn’t replace your wet nappy with a fresh one?” It was at that point that Rina finally noticed her mother going for the package that now rested on her nightstand. The familiar pack of pull-ups was only meant to cover her nightly accidents. So why was her mother pulling out another one…? “But, you said I didn’t have to wear diapers during the day!” Rina yelled, sitting up in a panic. Mother’s hand came to her chest, pushing her back down. “Ah-ah. I’ve been paying attention to the news, young lady. New research shows that girls who wet the bed five nights or more in a row are twice as likely to have accidents during the day.” “That’s not fair! That stuff is all speculation! I haven’t even had an accident today!” Rina had to get her emotions under control. She knew these outbursts were not helping her case. How else was she supposed to put up a fight? “Well then, you should be more than happy to try and prove me wrong. I would be proud to have an outlier in her household. Until then, I am exercising my rights as your parent, and taking proper precautions.” Mother’s words were coated in sweetness, despite the sour look on her daughter’s face. Rina had no way to argue. Try as she might, she could not stop her mother from hiking the bulky pull-up legs. That also meant she had no way of stopping her mother from picking out her daytime outfit, a breezy sundress, and a pair of sandals. After all, why stop there? If she already decided how her daughter should bathe, she had enough sense to decide how her daughter should dress. And, after all, if she was in charge of bathing and dressing Rina, she should also be in charge of feeding her… “Mother, I told you can—urp!” Rina’s protest were being policed by spoonful after spoonful of plain oatmeal. She felt truly at her mother’s mercy during breakfast time. “Yes, yes. My big girl can do it all, I’m sure.” Mother replied, rolling her eyes. “But we don’t have time for you to wade through every single bite. I know how much you love your breakfast, but we have a schedule to adhere to.” Mother continued her feeding, smiling on the while. “Here you go, baby! Here comes the rest of your juicy-juice!” Mother shoved a sippy cup filled with amber liquid into her daughter’s mouth, not stopping until it began to drain. While breakfast was served, the radio was still on, filling in the family on the latest news story. A familiar radio hostess was live and laughing with her co-host, before returning to business. “In other news, COMFI has just previewed their latest line of summer wear for young women.” COMFI has been interviewing mothers across the country for notes and possible improvement. This year’s line promises better durability, more varieties of pastel colors, and adjustments to allow for easier diaper checks. These newest designs are the cutest! I know where I’m shopping for my niece’s birthday…” “Oh, that reminds me. We still need to seamstress soon. Those clothes I had mended should be ready now.” Mother thought aloud, the mention of easier checks lighting off mental fireworks. “We can swing by while we’re out today. Doesn’t that sound nice?” “Uhhh…bleh…” Rina was in no mood state right now. She was far too stuffed to put up a fight. She looked ready to fall straight to sleep in her car seat. All Mother could do was smile at her precious daughter. She simply couldn’t help herself! Sure, the circumstances that caused their relationship to shift so drastically were less than ideal. Resistance meetings were a big no-no in her household. She knew her Rina would never admit to such a secret. She knew just as well that she was so easy to read, and that she was more than ready to have another round of memories with her baby girl. This time, she was going you enjoy every second. “Tee-hee! I don’t even know why I bother asking.” Mother said ideally, whipping the food specks from her daughter’s mouth. It isn’t like you have a meeting to go to!” *** “Goodness, Mai. Will you stop fussing for one second?” Mai huffed and tugged her skirt down every few seconds. She had a hunch that her undergarments were peaking from under the skirt of her shortalls and did not want to give anyone a free show. Mother, please! You can’t be serious. You know I’m far too old the dress like this.” “How many times must I say this? There is nothing wrong with you having to wear a leash while we’re out. We already passed two other girls wearing them today. Besides, I can’t expect you not to wander off on your own.” Mother tugged the leash handle, causing her daughter to fumble forward. “Now stop dawdling. We’re losing daylight. You can grumble all you like, but it won’t change things.” Mother had no patience for Mai’s attitude. She was still steamed that her flesh and blood had been sneaking out to a resistance meeting, to plot heaven knows what. It was disgraceful. The face that was not willing to confess only boiled her more. Mai, on her end, was nearing her limits. She couldn’t wait for her friends to take to the streets and begin the protests. Soon enough, crap like this would be outlawed, and mothers like hers would be exposed for the tyrant they had become. The wait for that day was hell. Be she was strong enough to endure it. They finally stopped in front of a plain-looking storefront. Mother saw a nearby bench and decided to tie the handle of the baby leash to the bars, much to her daughter’s ire. “You wait here for a moment. Mother has to go inside and make a few reservations. Don’t go and try anything. Understand?” Mother commanded with a finger wag. She did not wait for her daughter to answer. She instead went to the store, leaving Mai alone with her thoughts. Tied to a park bench like a dog, Mai could only sit around and wait. She sulked, knowing that any passerby would see her as another helpless and immature girl. How bogus. How bogus and wrong and unfair and unjust. Call it what she liked. Mai was still stuck here. Soon enough. It would all change soon enough. Her attention was suddenly caught by a peculiar commercial playing on a set of TVs behind a glass window… We were there for her when this all started.” Glossy text over a white backdrop was how the commercial opened. Fade in, showing scenes of a mother playing with her baby daughter. Blissful music accompanied the pair as they went through the motions of life. “Now it’s time for her to go back.” The next set of scenes paralleled the first, with one key difference. Both the girl and the mother had been aged up considerably. The mother had aged fairly gracefully, with crow’s feet and spare gray hairs only noticeable by the keenest of eyes. Given a time gap of twenty years, the daughter was now college—age, a young woman. That didn’t change the fact that her overall aesthetic had not been updated. She was still crawling around her home without a care in the world. She was still being bottle-fed on the couch, cradled by her mother. And, for the purposes of promotion, she still had a pair of Snuggles diapers taped to her butt. A new scene was added, showing the woman asleep in her crib. Pacifier in her mouth, a nighttime Snuggles on her rear, the woman looked to be in complete. That was until a close-up of her face showed the woman grimacing, followed by a look of relief. Right in cue, Mother entered the nursery right on cue. A pat on her girl’s diaper, and a knowing grin, were the tell-tale signs of an upcoming change. The message was clear. “We know she’s not going anywhere. Neither are we.” This proved to be a perfect segway for the commercial to boast all the features the latest line of Snuggles would provide. Improved tape durability. Faster fading wetness indicators. Extra back lining for maximized rear support. The diaper promised to be the number one item for every young woman experiencing youth renewal. All the while sounds of coos, tapes scrunching, and diapers crinkling accompanied the soft music and vital information on screen. “SNUGGLES: GENERATIONS OF COMFORT” Mai’s blood ran cold. The commercial shook her to the core, all while being broadcast to homes across the country. She had no idea it had gotten so bad so fast. At this rate, would her friends even be able to make a difference? Her forehead was wet with sweat. Wet. Mai squealed, pawing at her diaper, realizing she had an accident during the commercial break. How had she not noticed!? Had a simple commercial made her that afraid? “Let’s go, Mai. It’s almost your lunchtime.” Mother said. Her eyebrows raised when she saw her Mai tug at her skirt, face beat red. “What’s the matter with you? Look, the park is right down the street. You are probably cranky because you didn’t eat enough at breakfast.” Mother was soon surprised to have her daughter so quiet for once. She did not fuss during the feeding, despite how crowded the park was that day. Still, Mother was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Yes, that’s right. No, that date is fine. For the price of shipping? What about the price of construction?” Mother was busy taking a phone, promising to play with her in the park after business was taken care of. Mai still needed time to digest her meal, after all. Any attempt Mai made to move was met with a swift pull of her lease. The repeat offenses were not doing her gut any favors. She could feel the tension growing. The urges grew and growled in her gut. She had to escape. The park restrooms were oh-so-close. “Mai!!!” Her mother howled, “You get back here this instant!!!” Mai stopped in her tracks, hunched over. Not because of her mother’s raging voice. It was the roaring in her bowels that she was too late to stop. The warm mess made its way to the backside of her diaper. Mother’s yells already turned all eyes on the young woman, currently in the middle of filling her pants. When the act was finished, Mai was on the ground, sobbing. “Well, do you feel better now?” Mother was already looming over the fallen young woman, diaper bag in tow. “It’s a good thing I didn’t change you when you wet earlier. That would have been a waste of a diaper. Now, come on. Let’s do something about that stinky bum of yours.” With no care for privacy, Mother changed the sobbing mess that was Mai right there in the middle of the park. The young Mai could not even produce words anymore. The only thing she had left was weak sobs to convey her shattered emotional state. “I swear, this is too much work. To think that my daughter would still be acting like a toddler in her twenties. You can’t be trusted to watch over yourself either. Today has sealed the deal for me. I think a long stay at Sunshine Bay is just what you need.” *** “Hello? I’m here for a pickup. My daughter is supposed to be released today.” The mother said, standing in front of the receptionist’s desk. She handed over her ID, already expecting the possible question “Which little cutie is yours?” In turn, the receptionist responded with an easy nod and a smile. She returned the ID, clacked away at her keyboard, and thumbed her clipboard at the schedule attached. A bright look of realization lit up her face when she saw who this lucky Mother was. “Ah-ha! You’re here for little Chie! She’s become quite the local success story around here. I think you are going to love her progress.” Smiling brightly the receptionist turned to the phone on her counter and began to dial away. “I’ll call up the doctor right now. You can go and take your seat over at the waiting area. While you wait, could you also sign this release form? Thank you.” The mother nodded and turned to the waiting area. Stiff metal chairs and white walls that dulled the senses. It made the entire area feel clinical. Why is it like this last time? Perhaps that was why Chie was so apprehensive in the past. It felt like only yesterday that she was sitting in this room with her girl next to her. She remembered the look on Chie’s face as the orderlies took her away. Back when she first checked Chie into Sunshine Bay. That look of shock, of horror. The way her yells instantly stopped when she crossed the double doors. That memory from ages ago, which felt just like yesterday. Everyone she spoke to agreed that she had done the right thing. When she researched online, the place had nothing but perfect reviews. Not a single parent had sent their child there, coming back unsatisfied. Her only regret was not visiting Chie during her stay. But even that choice was ultimately for the best, the mother believed. To think that her daughter was going to resistance meetings! She had to stop Chie before things got out of hand. That she wasn’t going to let her own child walk all over her. While she was busy with her paperwork, a TV was playing, suspended in the corner of the room. It looked to be a talk show, with all the hosts deep in political discussion… The woman in black opened. “Well, I think that this is an open-and-shut discussion. Mothers should be allowed to regress their daughters if they see fit.” “I concur.” Motioned the woman in red. “Statistics show that mothers with regressed daughters display better moods, have better health, and perform better financially. Furthermore, as the number of regressed daughters increases, there is an inverse growth in crime rates.” “Now, how do you think the government should be spending money towards this?” The woman in blue proposed. “They have already spent a lot of money, mainly from taxpayers, helping businesses and establishing facilities for regression treatments. It’s clear that they plan to support this lifestyle in our country for years to come.” “Can we have discussed the term ‘regressed’ for a moment?” The woman in green proposed. “I feel the word does not create a welcoming narrative and is often stigmatized. We need to be mindful of these things. Our girls aren’t going away anytime soon. We are doing everything to make sure of that We should be using terms that make the process feel more comfortable for them.” Black pressed Green, “What alternatives would you prefer?” Green answered. “I think the term ‘renewed’ and its associates are much more inviting. It is a ‘renewal’ process. It is not the end. It’s the ‘renewal’ of youth.” Blue agreed. “I quite like that. I think I saw that used recently. In a national report earlier this week.” Red mused. “We should have an official polling for mothers on what they find most appropriate.” Black nodded. She turned her attention to Green. “Now, your daughters have been going through youth renewal as well, correct?” Green answered, now looking very proud of herself. “Well, as you all know, I am a mother of two girls myself. They are both entering their second year of youth renewal and we as a family could not be any happier.” “That’s right. It’s very important early on that they know the process is completely natural, as well as non-negotiable.” “No, what do say about the claims that youth renewal causes long-term resentment?” “Resentment? No, I don’t believe so. There’s a reason the saying ‘mother knows best’ has stood the test of time. When your child is young, you must fight them on studying, doing chores, and going to bed on time. You do it because you know what is best for them. Convincing them that it’s time to go back to diapers, playtimes, and other fun things, is no different.” The women continued their one-sided debate. Their views and thoughts echoed across the entire country… She tried not to focus on the TV program, instead on the clipboard in her hands. While the ladies on the screen preached their piece, she had her paperwork to take care of. It was nothing worth noting. Simply require signatures to clear the facility of any possible legal backlash for what happens with her girl. Chie. She wondered if Chie would even want to her, after all this time. “Mommy!!” Bursting through the double doors like a bat out of hell, came a pure bundle of excitement. She was dressed appropriately for someone of her maturity. A pink shirt and blue denim overalls covered her body, with the skirt stopping short of her undergarments. Pink striped socks on her feet and bubble ties in her hair accessorize to further bring out her youthful side. She ran down the hallway—more of a waddle really, given the wide duck-like steps her padding forced her to take—her brightly colored sneakers lighting up every step of the way. “Oh-oh! Chie!?” She couldn’t remember the last time her daughter called her “Mommy.” She couldn’t even remember the last time her daughter hugged her. She could feel a burst of tender emotions bubbling up in her chest. She welcomed this return to form with open arms. She eagerly welcomed the idea of being “Mommy” again. “Yes, that’s right. Mommy’s here for you,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Now, now, Chie. What did we say about running off?” The doctor strode past the double door and into the waiting room, approaching the family reunited. “I see you two have found each other. We told Chie she was going home this morning, and she has been a big bundle of energy ever since.” Mommy nodded. In truth, she could hardly remember the last time her daughter was excited about anything. Let alone seeing her. The thought alone melted her heart. “Well, I’m happy to see her as well!” Mommy hugged her daughter even tighter. “I hear that Chie was a good girl during her time here?” “Oh, yes. Chie got along famously with the other little patients. There was some trouble at first, but that’s to be expected. Nothing a few months at Sunshine Bay can’t fix.” From a white paper bag in her hand, the doctor pulled out an orange pill bottle. “Now, then. Chie will need to take two of these pills every morning. It’s only a nutritional supplement, to keep her healthy and regular.” “Regular?” “That’s right. Chie uses her diapers like clockwork. We already fed her lunch today. She’ll no doubt have a present ready for her mommy in an hour. Rest assured, she isn’t one to fuss over a change or a messy pair of Snuggles.” The doctor glanced at the girl, who was already dosing off in the cradle of her mother’s arms. “We packed your medication in the same bag. You’ll have to talk this over with your doctor, but the insurance will cover the refills.” “Medication? For me?” “Yes, that’s right. If I am reading your files correctly…” The doctor flipped through the binder, landing her pen on a page near the back. “You said in the past that you were interested in breastfeeding?” Mommy’s eyes lit up with the bright sparks of realization. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course!” She greedily snatched the medicine bag, clutching it like a priceless jewel. “Thank you so much, doctor!” Her voice peaked like she was on the verge of tears. “Oh, please, think nothing of it. Fixing families is what we do at Sunshine Bay! Just take one a day, and the lactation should start in a week. She’ll still need to eat solids, but a familiar treat will bring the two of you closer than ever.” Mommy and baby reunited, and the family left the waiting room, ready to start over. “They seemed so happy. Pickup days are my favorite.” The receptionist was still swooning over the heartwarming display. “With how well business is going, we’ll get to reactions like that all the time.” “I believe we’re planning on expanding soon. The number of parents turning in applications has been skyrocketing in the last few months. Still, I’m more than happy to do my part in getting our country on the right track.” The doctor and receptionist continued their small talk for a while before returning to work. All until the next pickup arrived. Business as usual for Sunshine Bay. “…Oh yes, of course! Little Mai is leaving us today. She’s one of our recent success stories. You’ll be happy to see the progress she has made. Why don’t you take a seat while I phone the doctor…” *** M-mother, please!” Hana squealed as her mother tugged by the arm through the clothing section of the mall. “I already said I was sorry! I promise I’ll do better next year!” Unfortunately for Hana, there wasn’t going to be a “next year.” Not if Mother had any say in the matter. And, given that their country’s laws had returned more power to the parents during Hana’s blunder of the semester, Mother most certainly did. Infinitely more than Hana. Enforcing her rights as a parent was exactly what she intended to do. “I’ve already made plans for next year, and none of them involve you running off to college. I don’t want to hear another word about it. “Here we are. We finally made it, despite all your squabbling.” Pink. Suffocatingly pink. Everywhere she glanced. It was as if the words “kawaii” and “adorbs” barfed all over the storefront. Design fit for Lolita cosplay hung on every rack. No self-respecting young lady to wear such designs willingly. But, that did not factor into the current arrangement. The pair went inside, one much more willing than the other. Mother pushed down on Hana’s shoulders, seating her on a fussy hot pink seat. “I have an outfit for you on layaway. Be a good girl for once, and don’t you go anywhere.” Mother said with a huff. Heels clacking, she strode off to the pickup desk. Hana was now left alone with her thoughts. Alone to think about her impending future. Mother had already told her she was having Hana’s room redecorated to “fit with the rest of the changes.” She had no doubts that a nursery was waiting for her back home. She sighed, now fully realizing how far she had fallen. She had left her country, hoping to prove its wicked stereotypes wrong. To be a trailblazer like a certain friend she admired. All she proved was fleeting her sense of maturity truly was. What would the other members of the resistance think of her now? Just as she was diving deeper into her pool of memories, Hana had the sinking suspicion she was being watched. She looked up, baffled when she saw who the culprit was. “…Eri?” The girl let a high—pitched “Eep!” and ducked back behind a rack of playdresses. Her pale face had turned beet red in an instant. She finally emerged from the rack when she realized there was no point in hiding. It was Eri. Tragically, her sense of fashion had a major overhaul since they last met. Gone was her make-up, her loose jeans, her small shirts that flaunted her midriff. Now was the age of frilly pastel dresses, buckle flats, and white stockings. Her distinct pixie cut had been downgraded to a girlish set of pigtails. There were two more subtle factors of Eri’s dress, that chilled Hana to the bone. The first was the harness, strapped and buckled tightly around her. It was a baby leash, sized to fit her perfectly, decorated not to clash with the rest of her ensemble. The crinkling. That noise sounded off like a siren warding off any sense of lingering maturity. From the spread of her stance, Hana didn’t have to try hard to figuring what her old friend was wearing down there. “Eri-baby,” Sang a mature and playful voice, “Where are you trying to waddle off to~?” Eri’s face turned pale. She let out another girlish shriek, with her leash being tugged back. Luckily, Eri fumbled back and landed in the waiting embrace of her smiling mama. “There’s my blushing bambina!” Said Mama. “Do you see another plushie to add to your collection? Maybe one to go with that big doggy you got the other day.” When Eri’s mama looked up at what grabbed her girl’s attention, she was left smiling ear-to-ear. “Well, well, well! If it isn’t little Hana! Your mommy said you would be coming back home soon. Guess you weren’t ready to leave the nest after, hmm? That’s okay! Plenty of little girls just like you make the same mistake.” Mama here was exceptionally eager. Like she didn’t see anything wrong with the current situation. Then again, why should she? Countless younger ladies here were getting the same treatment as Eri. It was the norm, the golden standard. If anything, Hana was the oddball here. She was the one who left home, wasting time on an ultimately pointless college venture. Before Hana could even make her case, She felt a familiar hand land on her shoulder. “So, you do know how to follow instructions. Good girl.” Mother said. In her arms, she carried several store bags of newly purchased clothing. Shades of pastel peaked out, leaving no doubt to anyone who they were for. Mother turned and politely greeted the other woman. “Good day to you, Ma’am. Fancy meeting you and your daughter here.” “Well, Eri and I just had to get out of the house today. I was very insistent on it. You know how hard our girls always try to resist.” Eri’s mama laughed to herself, which, indicated by Mother’s smile, was a natural response. Whatever the joke was, the two little girls in the room were not in on it. “ “Yes, that’s correct. I still need to go a pick out some new underwear. I forget to bring a diaper from home, what with me rushing.” “Oh, you can use one of Eri’s. I insist! She has plenty more back home. Plus, it’s always important to teach our girls about sharing.” “W-wait! I don’t need to—” One swift swat to the rear was all it took to silence Hana. “Hana! How many times have told you not to talk out of turn!? Now, you thank you properly.” Another swift swat was all it took for Hana to remember her manners. “Ahh! T-thank you for the diaper, ma’am.” “You are so welcome, dear! Now, why don’t I show you and your mommy where the changing rooms are? They are very modern. The benches have enough space to be used as a changing table.” The dressing process was just as mortifying as she imagined. She would be going in, for the final time, as a budding young woman, then coming out as Mother’s precious baby girl. Eri’s mama was right about the changing room. The two older women laid Hana on her back, making sure that the first of many future diaper changes went as smoothly as possible. The change was easy work for the two women. Mama had plenty of recent experience looking after Eri in her current state, evident by the brimming diaper bag she carried. Hana’s outfit was just as demeaning as her former idol. Her dress was just as gaudy and girly. Her socks were just as frilly. Her baby leash was just as tight. The diapers produced the same obvious crinkling. Hana always wanted to be more like Eri. She never imagined her dream would turn into such a nightmare. “Ah, would you look at time?” Mother looked down at her watch, smirking. “Hana and I have someplace we must be heading now. You don’t mind giving us a ride, do you?” “Oh, of course not. I have two car seats, after all. Besides, we’re going to the same place, no?” Mama said, snickering. Whatever the gag was, it was no doubt preplanned before Hana arrived. When they exited the mall, Eri put up no fight, no resistance as her mama strapped her into the waiting car seat. Hana herself was no better, once more following in Eri’s footsteps. Hana shifted in her car seat, not daring to mess with the buckles and straps. She looked over to her left, and still could not believe what the girl beside her had become. Pacifier bobbing in her mouth, hands idly swinging at the trinkets above. They did not speak a word to one another for the entire car ride. Eri was always one to speak her mind, but now Hana wasn’t sure if that had become a dead language to her. “Here we are! Right on time, too!” Hana looked out the window to her right, and her heart sank. Despite its colorful new paint job, she instantly recognized this building. It was the old rec center that Eri used to rent out for their chapter meetings. The once dull and unassuming building was now painted a bright and obvious sunny yellow, with large child drawings of barnyard animals on the outside. The inside was no better. The place had been turned into a daycare center, plain and simple. Toys, cubbies, marked play areas, childish decorations, changing stations. “Don’t be shy, dear. Look, all your little friends are here to play too. Don’t you recognize them?” She did, unfortunately, recognize her friends here. Jun was napping on the ground; her yellowing diaper bare to the world. Rina had her nose in the corner, clearly on punishment for something. She spotted Chie and Mai, rolling a ball back between each other without a care in the world. Their diapers were crinkling up a storm, all while the backs flashed obviously from their comfy playdresses. Hana took it in, her stomach churning, all while she and Eri were pushed forward, to go and co-mingle with old friends. This was it. Their special hideaway, the last beacon of their maturity, had been snuffed out and destroyed. The base had been compromised. The mission had intersected. The resistance had fallen. *** “Good morning, everyone!” A bubbly reporter began. “I am currently standing at the newest community daycare center, ‘Little Dreamers’. What used to be a run-down old shack, has been completely transformed by the hand of a few passionate parents. Despite being such a recent addition, Little Dreamers is already bubbling with new members. With a location like this, it’s impressive that this secret spot wasn’t found out about sooner. One thing is for sure. All the mothers who frequent here could not be happier. Their daughters spend all day here, under the proper supervision. After visiting here in my free time, I can safely say that these little dreamers won’t be growing up anytime soon. Oh, there’s a mother with her daughter right now. Let’s see if we can stop her for a quick interview…”

Fair is Fair Gwendolyn looked at the name Samantha had written on the coffee cup and squinted. Samantha was a Tweener and as such had terrible handwriting. “Cassandra? Venti latte for Cassandra?” No one in the shop came up to the counter. “Cassandra?” A tiny voice called up from the floor. “Down here!” Gwendolyn had to lean over the counter to spot the Little girl. The tiny thing stood there looking up at Gwendolyn, her face expectant and entitled; a child waiting for their cookie. Littles, they were always such precocious scamps. The Amazon barista looked around the shop, expecting to see the Little’s Mommy or Daddy waiting patiently for their good baby girl to help and bring them their coffee. Some parents were indulgent like that. Oddly, there was no mother or father waiting on the Little. None of the store’s highchairs had been wheeled out. There wasn’t even a diaper bag hanging on a chair. All the other Littles were already in daycare by this time. Maybe her Mommy or Daddy had gone to the bathroom and left their daughter to order...? “Wow,” Gwendolyn said, “this is sure a lot of coffee, Little lady. Think you can drink all of this?” “A benefit of my size,” the Little girl replied, “is that I can make a single order of coffee last me all day.” Her words came out in clipped staccato notes. Little soldiers standing at attention, none of them touching each other. Gwendolyn had touched a nerve. Typical Little. The Little must have sensed Gwendolyn’s doubt. “It’s for me,” she said. The Little girl seemed resentful, uppity even. “It’s my coffee.” “Of course it is.” Gwendolyn plastered on her best fake smile, normally reserved for Amazons complaining that Gwendolyn hadn’t gotten their order right. Gwendolyn wanted to pour it into smaller cups or insist that there was a limit based on size or to just give the cute Little girl a small cup of hot chocolate (she’d like it better anyways). But another opportunity was presenting itself. Littles weren’t technically babies by the strictest definition; the one waiting impatiently for her far too big coffee might have been older than the twenty-two year old coffee-shop employee. But every Little sooner or later needed to be treated like a baby and cared for like one. This one could have been thirty, but she’d never get much past thirty months, if that. More politically correct Amazons called it “Maturitis” or something. Really though, it’s just that they weren’t mature enough to handle being an adult. Functionally, they were all babies and toddlers that could only pretend at growing up. Sadly, whether a matter of childish pride or lack of opportunity, some Littles still didn’t have Amazon Mommies or Daddies to adopt them and give them the care they so needed and deserved. Like pushing someone into the deep end so that they learned to swim, Gwendolyn was willing to help. “Just a second,” Gwendolyn said. She pivoted and turned her back to the Little girl. With quick, skillful hands, she grabbed a lid with her right hand, and dropped something into the order with her left. A special something for the precious, precocious thing waiting on her. She turned around and gave the Little her coffee. “The Lid is so you don’t spill,” she explained. Oh if looks could kill! Gwendolyn would have laughed but then her customer wouldn’t drink her coffee. Instead, Gwendolyn took her own coffee from behind the counter, also with a sippy lid, and took a sip. “See? Amazons do it, too.” Mentally, she patted herself on the back for saying “Amazon” instead of “Adult”. Her red lipstick stained the lid from repeated sips. Cassandra (though to Gwendolyn, she looked more like a “Sandra” or a “Sandie”) sniffed, and then toddled off to a table to drink her very last big girl coffee. Such a Little cutie! Watching Gwen sip from her own drink had sealed the deal; it was just like when an adult pretended to eat a spoonful of mashed carrots to show their baby that it was “nummy”. Something was different about this Little, Gwendolyn thought, as she watched the girl scale her chair with practiced expertise. Maybe it was how she was dressed: Her shirt was tight enough that Gwen thought she could see a (widely unnecessary) bra underneath. The fact that she was wearing jeans was a little odd, as well. The Little girls who lived on the very outskirts of Oakshire- the ones that hadn’t stopped pretending to be adults- tended to wear concealing dresses and long skirts. Gwendolyn always suspected it might be because they were already wearing diapers beneath; they were just still too proud to let a real grown-up help change them. There was definitely no diaper crinkling underneath those pants, though. Not yet. But a few sips from that coffee and a couple hours time would do the trick. Unless Little baby Sandie was already at home when the laxative Gwendolyn slipped kicked in, she’d poop those pants, an Amazon would catch her, and she’d get rightfully adopted. Happy endings for all. Greedily, she wondered if the Little girl would hang out long enough for Gwendolyn to witness the inevitable oopsie occur. Gwendolyn had never been present when one of her additives took hold, but she imagined it must be a bit like live birth. Lots of screaming and crying; some poop and pee; then the baby gets cleaned up and taken to a loving home. “Miss Gwendolyn?” Gwendolyn turned around. “What?” she said to the twerpy Tweener. Tweeners. They were part Amazon, but they were almost as immature as Littles. “The orders are still coming in,” Samantha meekly pointed to the upside down cups that Gwendolyn had to fill. Gwendolyn bit back an impulse to yell at the silly Tweener, obviously the orders were coming in, but the girl did have a point. Quickly, she began to fill orders, making specialty coffee after specialty coffee; sparing every possible glance to look back at the Little sitting near the front. Had she drunk any of it yet? Only a little would do. But no, this “Cassandra” wasn’t even touching her coffee. Instead she kept playing with something on her finger. Was that a wedding ring? If it was, Gwendolyn surmised, she’d lost it if she kept playing with it like she was. The girl was sliding it off and on her finger, and looking awful sad about it; a deeper more horrid sadness than Gwendolyn could truthfully comprehend. So she didn’t… Poor Little thing was confused; playing dress up; maybe her boyfriend had broken her heart and not given her enough flowers from out of some adult’s garden. She probably just realized how hard it was to be an adult was agonizing over that fact. One tiny sip from the coffee and things would be a lot better for her. “A little faster, please!” An older man in a power suit said. “Some of us have real jobs!” He tapped his watch to make her point. Gwendolyn hopped to it and got lost in the moment, and attended to the momentary surge in pumpkin spice lattes. When she was finally able to breathe, she saw Samantha walking away from the Little’s table. “Hey,” Gwendolyn asked the Tweener. “What was that Little talking to you about?” “Nothing Miss Gwendolyn,” Samantha replied. Even with her platforms on she barely came up to Gwendolyn’s breasts. “She just asked where the bathroom was...” Gwendolyn didn’t need to look in her co-worker’s eyes or listen too closely to hear the same bit of anticipation, even marked suspicion in Samanth’as voice. Even Tweeners knew the truth about Littles. Gwendolyn looked at the clock on the wall. It hadn’t been quite an hour, but that might have been enough time for certain things to take effect, especially if the girl had a delicate constitution. She pursed her lips in order to hide the smirk as the Little girl tentatively placed a hand on her stomach. Wouldn’t be long now. Not long at all! Practically on cue, the girl hopped down from her seat and started dashing to the ladies’ room. Any worry that the Little might make it in time raced straight out of Gwendolyn’s mind as soon as she glimpsed the girl slap a hand between her cheeks. Poor thing was trying to physically hold it in! Slowly, a leopard on the prowl, Gwendolyn walked to the restroom. Slowly pushing the door open and slinking in to make as little noise as possible; let the girl think she was alone and could still pretend to be an adult. Really though, it was all over but the crying. Right next to the public changing table a vending machine had been inserted into the wall. A common enough convenience, it was good for when a Little went through too many diapers too fast for an inexperienced mother to pack; or when a Little’s potty training started to slip showing they needed to be adopted. Near the top of the machine there were a few selections of training pants for boys and girls; for the rare Little that merited a degree of potty training. They had beloved cartoon characters on the front, easy open sides, and fade when wet designs so that the toddler/Little might have a visual cue if they were wet. The second row contained all the diapers commonly worn by Amazon babies and “adult” Littles. No wetness indicator, because what would be the point? Littles wet their pants so often they must’ve loved it. Gwendolyn had seen enough fussy ones kicking in screaming as they were taken away to be changed, they must’ve been really upset to get taken out of their wet and messy diapers. Lots of cute decorations, though. There were enough variants in style to consider a Little’s diaper some form of aesthetic. Near the bottom middle were bigger diapers sized for Tweeners; one never could tell if a Tweener would lean more towards their Amazon or their Little ancestry. These ones lacked the festive and babyish decorations that most Baby/Little diapers had, but they were still very childish: Solid pastel colors, mostly. One or two with some cartoon characters on the front that were aimed at older Amazon children; Ensign Luna or Arachno Man. Good for the Tweener that needed to be in diapers or had a bed wetting problem, but not purposefully humiliating to them. At the very bottom, on a rung so old it was collecting dust were diapers sized for Amazons. No selection there. Big. Plain. White. Four tapes instead of the usual two. No frills. No Amazon that she knew of actually needed or wore diapers past (maybe) kindergarten. Any adult Amazon immature enough to still need diapers wouldn’t need a vending machine to supply their padding for them. Too rare. Never really happened save as a prank or a punishment. These were there for the pure purpose of being fair. If Amazons were going to say that Littles needed to be put back in diapers after they had been “potty trained”, and that Tweeners occasionally needed a sort of “adjustment”, then it was only fair to have diapers big enough to fit the REAL adults of the world on hand. And it was fair. The amount of dust on the bottom row testified that “fair” wasn’t always the same thing as “equal”. Gwendolyn fished some loose change out of her apron and made a selection. A perfectly cute Coddles decorated with bunny rabbits with a small packet of wipes dropped down into the bin. As Gwendolyn kneeled down to retrieve the fresh diaper she listened to any of the tell tale signs about where this Little girl might be. Rude noises or messy plops as possibly the last bit of mess miraculously made it into one of the toilets? Nope. Nothing of the sort. The panicked flushing of underwear to cover up the accident? Nothing there, either. The restroom was oddly quiet, in fact. It didn’t even sound as if one of the tanks was refilling. Crying as the Little girl finally realized what a baby she was supposed to be, giving into her deeply buried feelings against her silly Little will? No, of course not, that’d be far too easy. She sniffed, hoping that scent might lead her to the scene of the accident. Save for the nearest trashcan, the bathroom still had a relatively clean, if not sterile aroma.. The trashcan! Maybe she pooped her pants and ditched them in the trashcan! Feeling more than a tiny bit crazy, Gwendolyn started pawing through paper towels like a racoon and a garbage buffet. For all her digging, she only found a single balled up diaper. Oh yeah...there HAD been a woman and her Little girl in here earlier this morning. That’s why Gwendolyn had so easily remembered how fussy Littles could get when they were taken away for a change. Why had she allowed herself to go such lengths? Simple, really. Gwendolyn needed proof! She needed proof that the Little girl had pooped her pants. You didn’t give a kid coal for Christmas if you couldn’t prove that they’d been bad, and you didn’t put a Little back in diapers if you couldn’t prove that they’d had an accident in their pants. So what if you carefully read the kid’s letters to Santa, or gave the Little something to help her bowels along? If the kid REALLY was good (or clever), there’d be nothing to report. Conversely, if the Little REALLY was potty trained (or clever), she’d make it to the toilet on time. In that case, no harm, no foul, and the only thing wasted was time, a powerful but subtle laxative, and the cost of a Little sized diaper from a vending machine. That was fair. But where was the Little darling? “Helloooooo?” Gwendolyn called out. “Is anyone in here?” Slowly, she opened up the nearest stall so that it wouldn’t squeak. Nothing. Darn Littles were so small she didn’t have the luxury of just looking for dangling feet. On most normal stalls a Little girl would have to do a real balancing act (yet another reason they shouldn’t bother to try out adult underwear). “I’m just making sure I’m alone,” Gwendolyn said, opening up the second stall. I’m something of a nervous pooper. “Sorry if that’s too much info.” Nothing more to go. One more to go! Either she’d find the stall locked, and then just have to wait the Little out, or her quarry had forgotten to lock the stall door, and in it’s own way that proved she wasn’t big enough to go potty all by herself. Resisting the urge to literally kick open the door, Gwendolyn restrained herself, holding her breath as she opened the final stall. Nothing. Completely empty. “Where the…?” Her question was answered only with the echoes of her own voice. Disappointedly, she stuffed the baby diaper and the mini-packet of wipes in her apron. “Samantha?” she asked when she got back behind the counter. “Did you see where that Little went?” She looked over to the table where the Little had been sitting. Her coffee still untouched. The Tweener cocked an eyebrow. “Uhh...she just walked out while you were in the bathroom.” She thumbed to the shop’s entrance. “Why?” Impossible! There’s no way that the Little could have gotten away! “I was just in there! I didn’t see.” Her coworker looked distinctly uncomfortable, like she was on the verge of being caught in a lie. “Maybe she went into the men’s room?” Something about this news jerked Gwendolyn’s chain even worse. That Little twerp! She wasn’t supposed to go into the wrong bathroom! That wasn’t fair! That wasn’t fair, at all! “You know Littles, heh heh.” Yes. Yes, she did know Littles. Silly baby probably went into the wrong bathroom by accident. Well darn. Oh well. She got away. Whether she made it to the toilet or not, she wouldn’t last long. That laxative was powerful; meaning the incident Gwendolyn had just missed was just round one. Someone would find the Little girl and she’d end up adopted and in a happy home, likely by the end of the day. “She left her coffee for us to clean up.” Gwendolyn shook her head disapprovingly. “Such a Little.” “Lots of people leave their cups,” Samantha said. Samantha fairly withered under Gwendolyn’s stare. “At least she paid..?” “Good point,” Gwendolyn allowed. A few more patrons shuffled in for coffee, and Gwendolyn looked at the clock on the wall. Only a few more hours left till the end of her shift. Reaching under the counter, Gwendolyn took a few hearty gulps from her cup, applying a fresh coat of lipstick to the lid’s spout. ************************************************************************************************ “I’ve got a Grande, iced, sugar-free, vanilla latte with soy milk for…Linda!” Gwendolyn called out. An Amazon woman came and took the coffee. “Triple, venti, non-fat, salted, caramel macchiato for...David!” “That’s Daveed,” the man said, taking his order. “Sorry,” Gwendolyn apologized. “I didn’t write the name,” she was loud enough so that Samantha could hear. More importantly, she hoped she was loud enough that Mrs. Thompson, the owner, could hear. There was a position for manager opening up, and Gwendolyn wanted it. Same hours, increased pay, only slightly more responsibilities. “Venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, sugar-free syrup, extra shot, light ice, no whip!” She squinted. Samantha wasn’t even trying on this last one. A young woman about Gwendolyn’s age came forward. “That one’s mine!” Thank goodness someone knew their order. The customer reached out for the coffee and stopped. Her nose twitched. “Do you smell that?” The barista frowned. “Smell what?” “Gwendolyn?” Samantha said. The Amazon ignored her. The customer’s nose twitch mutated into a full out “Smells like shiiii…” her eyes went wide realizing she almost cussed in front of the Tweener. “Like a Little with a messy diaper.” “Uh...Gwendolyn?” Absentmindedly, Gwendolyn batted her coworker away, and kept sniffing. “I don’t smell it.” She shifted her stance a bit, feeling a strange weight in the back of her underwear. “Are the coffee beans over roasting? “MISS GWENDOLYN!!!” Gwendolyn whirled around. “WHAT?” she screamed down at her Tweener assistant. “WHAT IS IT?!” “You’re pooping your pants.” Gwendolyn let out a laugh. “I’m what?” “You’re pooping your pants,” Samantha repeated herself. “Like a baby…” Like a Little. Gasps from around the counter as Gwendolyn briefly became a dog chasing her own tail; contorting and twisting to see the dark stain on the back of her pants. No! This just wasn’t possible! Trembling hands reached back and poked at the warm sludgy mess in the back of her panties; a mess that was still seeping through thin silk that had no absorbent backing and spilling out past leg holes with no leakguards. Snickers and jeers from the customers wafted into the air, mingling with the stench of her own feces. “She can’t even tell,” one said. “Just like my Little sister growing up!” Others were more disgusted. They changed their mind about ordering or even threw their cups away, afraid that they’d catch whatever Littleness that had suddenly afflicted the barista “GWENDOLYN!” Mrs. Thompson shouted. “OFFICE! NOW!” Gwendolyn took a step forward and tensed up, locking her knees as some of her own muck started dribbling down the back of them. “What?” she scoffed. “Do you want me to carry you, now?” Shaking and shook, Gwendolyn gritted her teeth and shuffled out from behind the counter and did the Little walk of shame into her boss’s office. Truth be told, Mrs. Thompson’s office wasn’t much of an office. It was more of an unused storage space that he’d converted into one so that he had a quiet place to order fresh ingredients and go over the accounts. No windows; just the lightbulb, door, desk with a computer on it, and a single chair. Even for an Amazon, Mrs. Thompson was big; everything about her was big. Sitting down she didn’t look much shorter than Gwendolyn. Her big flowing hair added to the effect. Bigger frame, bigger hair, bigger breasts… Gwendolyn wasn’t used to literally looking up to people anymore, and the fact that Mrs. Thompson was old enough to be her mother only added to the effect of feeling like a child in loaded underwear. There was no place for Gwendolyn to sit, (Not that she would have wanted to.) The place was stuffy too, which wasn’t helping the situation with her nose. She was the last to smell her own accident, but it was sticking with her much longer. “Explain,” her boss said after a tense moment of silence. “I...I…” she stuttered. “I pooped my pants…?” The last part came with the inflection of a question. Gwendolyn still couldn’t believe it herself. “Obviously,” Mrs. Thompson growled. “But why did you poop yourself?” Gwendolyn blinked. She hadn’t had time to ask herself that. Her mind instantly flashed back to a few hours ago. That Little! “I saw a Little,” she said. “In the store today.” “And you wanted to be a Little? Poop your pants like one?” Gwendolyn took a hand off her backside and held it out defensively. The mess was starting cool now. Starting to settle. “No, no. This was one of those Littles that still thought she was mature, but then I thought she was pooping her pants so I followed her to the bathroom to catch her, but she gave me the slip and and…” something clicked. “She must have poisoned me! A laxative or something!” Mrs. Thompson’s face was made of stone. “So let me get this straight,” she sighed. “You filled your pants up with poop because there’s a non-diapered Little wandering around trying to make Amazons have bathroom accidents?” “What?” Gwendolyn laughed. “No! That’s not what I meant! I slipped something into her drink. She must have put it back in mine, or something! She poisoned me!” Slowly, like a shadow, Mrs. Thompson rose from her desk. “You poisoned a customer?” Her voice was low and grim. She didn’t dare shout that last part out. “NO!” “So did you just lie to me?” “No...I mean...yes…but...I mean...um…” If Gwendolyn’s cheeks weren’t already pink, they were certainly rosey now. A light knock on the door. “Excuse me, Mrs. Thompson?” It was Samantha. “SAMANTHA! GET OUT!” Gwendolyn demanded. “You’re in no position to be making demands, Little girl,” Mrs. Thompson chided Gwendolyn. “But I’m not-” “If the diaper fits,” she cut Gwendolyn off. “What is it Samantha? We’re kind of busy.” Meekly, Samantha edged in a large, plain white, Amazon sized diaper. “One of the customers went to the bathroom and bought this out of the vending machine…” Her voice was trembling. Clearly, this wasn’t her idea. Caught in a world filled with giants and dwarfs, Tweeners were resented by the latter as no better than the former, while threatened by the former lest they be treated like the latter. Samantha was just the messenger. Silently, Mrs. Thompson strode out from behind his desk and took the adult diaper and wipes from the Tweener. “Thank you, Samantha,” she said curtly. “You did a good job. Go see to the customers.” “Yes ma’am!” The Tweener couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Now blocking the door, Mrs. Thompson looked square at Gwendolyn “Take your pants off, dear.” “Wha-?” “You heard me,” she said, her voice even. “Take them off. I’m not going to have you finish your shift in messy pants.” “I have to fini-?” “Of course. You’re mature enough to do that, aren’t you? Or did you poop yourself on purpose to get out of work?” “No, I-?” “So it WAS an accident.” “NO!” Gosh darn it! Why wasn’t he letting her get a word in edgewise? Standing there in poopy pants, she felt so helpless, so small. So Little. “Oh yes,” the older Amazon countered, “You were poisoned by a magical Little that ran around putting special laxatives in people’s coffee. Or was it that you were trying to poison someone who was a paying customer and your prank backfired?” Gwendolyn opened her mouth to speak but no words came out. A diaper in one hand, her boss placed the other on her shoulder. “Gwen, if a Little had an accident in front of everyone, what would we do to them?” Her voice was softer; gentler; like a mother patiently explaining responsibility to a pre-schooler. It was no less intimidating. “Put them in a...a…” she couldn’t even say it now. “And what if Samantha made a piddle in her pants?” Gwendolyn didn’t even reply. “So when an Amazon has an accident, what should we do?” She didn’t want to say it! She knew the answer but she didn’t want to say it. “But I’m twenty-two!” She was begging, and she knew it. “I know plenty of others who are older and still aren’t mature enough for big girl panties.” Mrs. Thompson replied. “And it would be terribly irresponsible of me to let you walk around in dirty pants. Wouldn’t it?” The air leaked out of Gwendolyn, along with her will to fight; at least for the time being. Her boss was right. Of course she was. Even if the barista had been poisoned, she’d just been beaten at her own game. “Fair is fair,” she mumbled. “This isn’t going to be permanent, is it?” A shadow came across the older Amazon’s eyes. “That depends on whether you can act like an adult in a diaper instead of a whiny Little brat that got caught pretending to be more mature than she was.” The twenty-two year old’s fear of wearing a diaper was only surpassed by the fear of wearing one forever. It had been at least two decades since she’d worn one. She’d never even been to diapered detention back in high school! She was an adult! A big girl! Stepping back, she slipped out of her shoes and with jerky non-fluidity, pulled her pants and underwear down to the floor and stepped out of them. Her top lip curled in disgust upon seeing the massive loaf. “Apron too,” Mrs.Thompson commanded. It wasn’t dirty, but she removed it anyways. “Bend over,” Mrs. Thompson told her. “Turn around and touch your toes.” Gwendolyn obeyed, closing her eyes. The first cold wipe that touched her might as well have been a taser, she shook so much. The second one wasn’t as bad. Nor the third. It was something of a localized cold shower. Chilly at first, but refreshing in a strange way. If it weren’t for the fact that someone else was wiping her ass for her she might have started to enjoy it. “Ugh,” Mrs. Thompson grunted. “What have you been eating, anyway?” Her voice was more joking than disgusted, but it caused Gwendolyn to nervously chew on her tongue all the same. “There needs to be baby powder in that machine too.” A frown pulled Gwendolyn’s lips down so that the corners felt like they had anchors hooked to them. “Whooof!” Great. She was being humiliated and Little-fied; her superior was cracking wise. “Stand up,” she told her. Once again, the young woman obeyed, hearing the diaper crinkle behind her as her boss unfolded it. “I don’t have a spot to change you on the floor,” she explained. “So we’re going to do this standing up.” That last part made Gwendolyn tense up. She wasn’t being changed. She was being diapered! If she was being changed that would mean she’d have worn more than one diaper over the last twenty years! Out of one diaper and into a clean one. Even more worryingly was the lingering lack of finality in Mrs. Thompson’s tone. Se might as well have said, “I don’t have a spot to change you on the floor YET!” and “We’re going to do this standing up FOR NOW!” The diaper was lifted up between her and fastened on while Gwendolyn stood statue still; afraid that something awful would happen if she didn’t obey. Why was she obeying, though? Couldn’t she just quit? Quitting would mean no money, though, wouldn’t it? No money meant no rent. No rent meant moving back in with her parents. And how would THEY react to having a failure of a daughter that had to fly back into the nest. Knowing her parents, she might very well end up back in diapers, anyways. Wouldn’t it be best to just bite the bullet and get this over with? It was a clumsy thing, having the diaper put on her. Mrs. Thompson clearly wasn’t all that practiced in this. Tired of being seen naked, she even did her part and held the front end while the older woman fiddled with the tapes. That earned her a “good girl”. Four tapes instead of two, and they needed to be adjusted, but by the end, Gwendolyn stood there in the musty room looking very much like a Little. Naked from the waist down save for her puffy white padding, the barista let out a small helpless mewl. She even had to adjust her gait a little like a toddler that hadn’t quite figured out how to walk. “Do you have anything else I can wear over...this?” she asked. Her boss scoffed. “Why would I need to have a change of clothes? This isn’t a daycare, is it? No one past kindergarten worries about changes of clothes” She squinted at Gwendolyn a bit suspiciously. “You don’t have a change of clothes, do you?” This was so unfair! One accident! One tricky Little bitch, and her entire adulthood was coming into question. She wasn’t a Little! She was an Amazon! An adult! The older Amazon waved off Gwendolyn’s indignation and helped by slipping on her shoes for her. She gave her back the apron, too. It did little to hide the bulbous thing taped around her hips, but it did something. As long as she stood only behind the counter, only facing towards the customers, and not moving too much; she might be able to get through the rest of the day with a smidgen of dignity intact. A smidgen of dignity, that is, until Mrs. Thompson pointed to the pile of ruined clothes off to the side. “Go throw those out.” A new wrinkle. “Throw them out?” “Unless you want them to stew in your car.” “No no no…” She stuttered. “I’ll throw them out.” Powered by adrenaline and shame, Gwendolyn became a crinkling blur. Bagging up her once pristine clothes, rushing out the side of the shop and tossing her ruined clothes in the dumpster. Tunnel vision and the pounding of her own heart blurred and muted the outside world to her. There could have been a marching band directly to the right of her, and an explosive and gorey military coup to the left, and Gwendolyn wouldn’t have noticed. The only thing she kept hearing was the plastic rustling that plagued every step. It followed her everywhere, even to the front of the store. The moment she stepped in to the front to retake her position, everything stopped. Everything. “Here you are, ma’-,” Samantha cut herself off mid sentence handing a customer their order. She stepped off her stool, shrinking down behind the barrier. Despite the initial revulsion of watching a grown woman shit herself, business had not slowed down much after all. Those who left had been quickly replaced by new customers. Those who had stayed weren’t unbothered as much as morbidly curious. They’d stayed around to gawk. The sea of faces and their reactions were fairly varied: Some looked on uncomprehendingly; either because they were at just the right angle to not see the diapered Amazon for what she was or they thought it was as impossible as Gwendolyn did until five minutes prior. Others looked away; somehow embarrassed by the barista’s predicament. One kid (and it was a kid, not a Little) guffawed, thinking she was about the funniest thing he’d ever seen; never mind that the paper thin waistband poking out of his pants wasn’t from a Pull-Up. And Gwendolyn was sure she could hear whispers of “Big Baby” and “Immature” and maybe even “Maturitis” or “Maturosis” or whatever it was that Littles had that turned them into forever children. A tug on her elbow brought the Amazon out of her stupor. “Gwen,” Samantha hissed. She’d maneuvered her way over to her co-worker. “Say something!” The Amazon closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Fair was fair. “I apologize, everyone.” she said, loud and clear. “I had an...an...I pooped my pants uncontrollably. It was very immature of me. I shouldn’t have done what I did. Now, for the rest of the day, I’ll be wearing this,” she lifted up the front of her apron. “for my protection as well as the furniture’s. I acted like a naughty toddler and now I’m being treated like one.” Deep down, Gwendolyn knew she wasn’t just talking about her accident either. “I’m very sorry, and will be back behind the counter to help you shortly.” She did not receive silence to her reply, however. To her surprise, and utter horror, they applauded. All of them. Clapping and smiling. Little cheers of “good girl” and “good for you” mingled in with “hurrays” and whistles. It wasn’t rowdy, per say, but far louder and more supportive than it needed to be. It was like in the movies when someone admits that they’re an alcoholic or something. The pats and rubs on the back she received on her way to the counter were just shy of the hugs at the end of those classic movie scenes. The pats and rubs on her backside only reinforced what she was wearing and why she was wearing it. The quiet giggles resumed as soon as she turned to start making more fancy flavored bean water. For crying out loud! She’d just admitted to having AN accident; singular; and the diaper was the only thing in the store that might fit her. It’s not like she NEEDED it. “Please just let this day be over,” she whispered to herself. If Gwendolyn had known what would come the next day, she might not have wished that for herself. ****************************************************************************************** “You wanted to see me, ma’am?” Gwendolyn asked, poking her head through the door but leaving the rest out in the doorway. Yesterday had been humiliating, but she’d gotten through it well enough. The diaper she’d been forced into yesterday now lay crumpled up at the very bottom of her wastebasket at home (and still clean to boot). Yet she was still more than a bit shell shocked through, hence why she was creeping around like Samantha tended to do instead striding proudly and confidently around as was her tendency. “Gwen,” Mrs. Thompson said. “Yes. come in.” She had a smile on her face. Gwendolyn immediately did not like that smile. It was the smile Mrs. Thompson wore right before she fired someone; or so it seemed. “You wanted to see me ma’am?” Gwen repeated. It was still early. Prep time. The sun hadn’t even come up yet. The lights in the front of the store had just buzzed on. The young woman wasn’t surprised she’d been told to come in early today. She’d royally screwed up and been allowed to keep her job; some kind of extra punishment or grunt work was in order and that included lugging around heavy bags of beans and some monotonous cleaning and prep work for sure. What surprised her was what she’d been told to wear. Mrs. Thompson saw the short denim skirt Gwen wore and her smile spread even further. “Good.” she said. “That’ll make it easier to check you, today.” CHECK?! That didn’t sound right. She followed her boss’s gesture. On the right side of the office, a worn but thick pink blanket was spread out. Near the edge was a packet of wipes, a bottle of baby powder and a clear plastic package filled with diapers too big to fit even a Tweener. “Go lie down.” Gwen wanted to cry; scream was more like it. She did her best to keep her voice level. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” “I think it is,” Mrs. Thompson replied. “You failed to take responsibility for your actions and your body yesterday; just like a Little.” She walked over to the blanket and kneeled down on the floor. Her outfit was different too. Instead of the light blue pantsuit she tended to wear or the business casual blouse and khakis when she deigned to take a shift serving customers, the older woman now wore a simple, yet feminine rose colored dress. Very maternal. “So until you can prove to me that you don’t need to be treated like a Little…” she patted the blanket, and let the silence speak for itself. If Gwendolyn had had any sense, she would have run just then. But to her own thinking, her boss did have a point. If Littles deserved to be babied because of the way they acted; then they just needed to act differently to avoid it. She could prove it. She could prove that she was an adult. Fair is fair. Before she stepped onto the blanket, she shimmied her panties down off her feet. So that’s why she was told to forego the usual dress code today… “That’s so helpful,” Mrs. Thompson teased. “Thank you! You’re already well on your way to proving what a mature young woman you are!” Gwendolyn took the hint and flipped her skirt up just before she laid down. Mrs. Thompson took her time unfolding the bulky adult diaper; really wanting to get it right this time, it seemed. A little pressure on the back of her legs, and Gwen lifted them up in the air and raised her hips so that the padding could be slid under her. She was told to keep them there for a bit longer than was comfortable so that a fresh cloud of baby powder could be dusted on her bottom. This was stupid, she thought to herself. No way was she going to need baby powder; yet alone a second diaper. She wasn’t going to be poisoned twice. Her breath shook as the diaper was pulled up between her legs, each tape being pulled snuggly over the front of her waist. Even with four tapes, now that she was laying down it still felt different. More babyish. More Little. Like she couldn’t even be trusted to stand and do it. The older Amazon diapered Gwen much more easily this time. Either because it was easier putting a diaper on someone when they were laying down, or perhaps Mrs. Thompson had more experience using this method. Once it was on and secure- much more secure than it had been yesterday, come to think of it- Gwen stood up and pulled down on her skirt. Much to her dismay, the tiny piece of denim that she used to catch boys’ eyes didn’t even come close to covering the offending padding. Anyone standing behind her would be able to see what she was wearing. “How long do I have to wear these?” she asked her boss. “Until you prove you don’t need them anymore.” Gwen’s face now was a near perfect match for Mrs. Thompson’s dress. “Alright. Off you go. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.” Gwen scurried out of the office as fast as she could; just not fast enough to avoid the light swat on her backside, the sound of flesh on plastic making a distinctive THWAP sound. ************************************************************************************************* “I’ve got a salted caramel macchiato for-” Gwen’s announcement was cut off with her own “EEK!” as she felt fresh air hitting the crack of her ass. Twirling like a twister, Gwen peered down at Samantha, grinning cheekily. “Just checking,” Samantha said. “Making sure you didn’t have an accident...again.” Nostrils flaring, eyes wide and unblinking, Gwen stared down at the Tweener willing her back into her submissive place. Nothing. Even as she loomed over her, the Tweener was completely unphased. It was as if all of her adulty Amazonness had been canceled out by a single not-quite undergarment. “”I’m not going to have an accident, again,” Gwen growled. It was true. This morning Gwen had gotten rid of her secret stash of Little Laxatives, and wasn’t even drinking any coffee, just in case. The only thing she’d had was water directly from the tap. Not that it mattered. For all her bluster, Gwen might as well have been a Great Dane and Samantha a crafty kitten. Two animals that didn’t- couldn’t- recognize their dramatic size difference. “Are you sure?” Samantha teased. “Big babies don’t know when they have accidents. That’s why they need-” “Are you wearing a diaper?!” The customer near the front exclaimed. Gwen’s knees locked and her back straightened. Her arms.shot back in a childish attempt to pull down the hem of her skirt. It was too late, though. She’d stepped too far away from the counter; she’d bent over way too far. Everyone who cared to look (and somehow she felt that everyone WAS looking) knew what was going on downstairs. “Oh wow….” Samantha whizzed around (a poor choice of words) Gwen and got on the step stool to look the customer in the eye. “Yup. Baby Gwen-Gwen had an accident in her big girl pants yesterday, so the owner is making her wear diapers until she can prove she’s a big girl again.” Every word from the Tweener’s lips was honeyed venom: And everything she said was exactly like what Gwen would have said had their situations been reversed. “Don’t worry, though,” Samantha added, “I make sure she washes her hands and stuff.” There was a general nodding of agreement from the customers; even the people sitting at tables and clacking away on laptops seemed to be at least half listening and bobbing their heads. “Seems fair.” “Very responsible.” “Good.” “Reasonable.” And so the murmurs went. Gwen clenched her fists. “I’m going on break.” A hand reached out and grabbed her by the wrist before Gwen had taken a full step. “Where do you think you’re going?” Samantha said with an air of authority up on her step stool. “It’s ten o’clock,” Gwen thumbed to the digital on the wall. “I’m taking a bathroom break.” “You don’t NEED a bathroom break,” Samantha said. “You’ve got a diaper on.” Gwen felt her blood boil. “I am NOT going to use this diaper.” She crossed her arms defiantly. The Tweener mimicked her. “Are too.” “Am not!” “Are too!” “Am NOT!” “ARE TOO!” “AM NOT!” The Tweener inhaled deeply. “MRS. THOMPSOOOOOOOON!” Gwen was an only child but if she’d ever wanted a bratty younger sister just then, Samantha would have fit the archetype perfectly just then. Now if only she fit the dress code for her behavior… Heavy footsteps signalled Mrs. Thompson’s approach. She was all smiles, how-do-you-do’s and excuse-me’s working her away around to the counter, but as soon as she got to the girls her expression turned serious. “What’s going on here?” “Gwenny’s trying to go to the potty!” Samantha’s choice of infantile vocabulary was nails on a chalkboard to Gwen’s ears. It was then that Mrs. Thompson regarded Gwen and asked her the strangest question. “Why?” “Because I have to go…?” Gwen said, feeling uncertain. “Do you know how expensive those diapers I bought you are?” The older Amazon’s hands were on her hips now, her foot tapping impatiently. “And the tapes aren’t great for more than one use. I’d have to put another one on you as soon as you were done. Do you want me to waste money on perfectly good diapers for you? Do you?” She took a moment to address the crowd. “I’m not even taking the cost out of her paycheck.” There was an approving “Awwww”. Gwen’s head might have been a rotary fan turned up to eleven. “No. That’s not what I.” “Then just go in your diaper like a good girl. Be grateful that I’m looking out for you, and use what I’ve provided.” “Fine,” Gwen said. “I’ll hold it until lunch.” “You most certainly will not!” Mrs. Thompson proclaimed. Without waiting she added, “If you can hold it till lunch, then that means you were just trying to get out of work.” “But-!” “Either that or you’re going to damage your body holding it in too long. That’s not very mature, is it?” “Yes...I mean no...I mean-!” “So are you trying to harm yourself or were you lying about your need to go?” More eyes. An unsympathetic ocean. Everyone was waiting. To be mature, she had to wet herself? To prove that she was an adult she had to pee her pants in front of everyone, just like a Little? It didn’t make any sense.This logic seemed to gel perfectly with the assembled looky-lous, however. Feeling defeated, Gwen buried her face in her hands and relaxed her bladder, a slight hissing sound filling her inner ear like when she chewed. No one else could hear it, she was sure of that. The moment she buried her face- like an embarrassed toddler-Samantha lead the shop in a chorus of cooing, “Awwwwwwwwwwww’s”. It was such a strange sensation, wetting herself like that: It was almost the exact inverse of going on the toilet. A quiet hiss instead of a loud tinkle; the feeling of expanding warmth instead of the coolness of the seat; the added weight as her disposable panties sagged and expanded to accommodate; the lack of privacy; the fact that she was going to be carrying this around with her instead of flushing it all down a whole right away. “Okay...I went.” Her voice came out as almost a sob. “All done?” Mrs. Thompson asked. Peeking through her fingers, Gwen nodded. “Check her.” Her hands still up by her face, Gwen was too slow to stop Samantha from groping her right between the legs. “She’s just a little wet,” Samantha reported. “A tiny tinkle. Could definitely hold more.” Their boss nodded approvingly. With a single finger crooked, she beckoned Gwen to lean over the counter. “Good girl. I’ll change you at lunch,” and then walked off. Gwen felt more confused than she ever had before in her life. The positive feedback was even more disconcerting. One by one and two by two, customers took their coffee and chose just then to compliment her, as opposed to the usual silence, grunts, and complaints. “You’re doing a great job!” one said. “Good girl!” said another. “This looks very yummy!” “Thank you very much, Gwen!” It was as if just because she was wearing kiddie underwear that everyone decided they should treat her with kid gloves, too. And what’s more, she was having trouble telling the difference between those jeering at her and those who genuinely meant their praise. Based on facial expressions, it was about 50/50. “Your boss and manager must be so proud of you!” Another said, indicating Samantha as the ‘manager’. “You’re a very good helper and employee!” And by the very nature of her the line, she never got a chance to decline or rebuff. Gwen just did her best to tune them out and try to fill out the orders... Sadly her best just wasn’t very good. “But MOMEEEEEE!” A Little girl in a pink onesie whined nearing the front. “I have to go potty!” It wasn’t the same girl from yesterday, though that would have made Gwen feel so much better. “Please let me go, please please please PLEASE!” “Now sugar,” the mother patiently replied. “That’s what your diaper is for, isn’t it?” “But you said-!” “This girl right here went pee-pee in her diaper, and she’s a big girl, isn’t she?” The Little stared at Gwen, her expression a mixture of disgust and awe. “Now just go and make yourself comfortable like her...” The Little was not convinced. “But I don’t wanna-!” “That doesn’t sound like the mature young woman you claim to be, does it?” “Will you change me?” “Only if you need it.” A lightbulb seemed to pop over the mother’s eyes. “Gwen here has no problem working in her wet diaper. You should have no problem playing in one. Her Mommy will change her when she needs it, and I’ll change you when you need it.”. Gwen couldn’t tell when the Little had wet her diaper; she only had a feeling that that was why she was now burying her face into her mommy’s shoulder. In so many other ways the mommy and daughter echoed Mrs. Thompson and she. Oh, God! Was she commiserating with a fucking Little? That didn’t make any sense! ************************************************************************************************* It was another two hours of pacing, sweating and peeing before lunch rolled around. The constant pressure of newcomers coming into the shop and noticing her diaper, followed by a round of gleeful explanation from Samantha, made Gwen want to tune the world the fuck out. This made her pace more and work more. This made her thirsty, resulting in taking more and more sips of tap water; she could at least do that without any hassle or comment. But all the water she was drinking was making her have to pee more. It was a vicious cycle. So pee Gwen did, with almost no hesitation. She’d already humiliated herself once; made a big scene out of it. It was actually easier to just squirt a little more into her padding whenever she felt the urge. She was drinking more, and peeing more, but going to the bathroom less; arguably getting more work done, and her bladder didn’t ache besides. At noon, Samantha groped her again. “Whoah!” she half-yelled. “You really did a number on your diaper, didn’t ya?” “Mmm-hmmm,” Gwen replied through gritted teeth. Without waiting, the Tweener zipped behind her and pulled open the back of her diaper. Her panties had become almost swampy, sauna like, and the rush of air conditioning to her backside made the contrast all the more apparent. “What are you doing?” she whisper-squealed. “Checkin’ for more boom-booms.” Samantha told her with a kind of nonchalant arrogance. “If I pooped my pants,” Gwen did her best to whisper, “I think I’d know about it.” “You didn’t yesterday…” That certainly shut Gwen up. In her confusion and frustration, Gwen allowed herself to be led by the hand towards the back; towards Mrs. Thompson’s office. “Pardon us,” the Tweener called out loud and clear. “Baby Gwenny needs to go get her diaper changed!” “SAMANTHAAAAA!” Gwen wailed. “Hmm?” Samantha feigned being unconcerned. “I just wanted to let people know where we were going so I didn’t worry them,” she said. “It’s nothing for you to be ashamed about…” Gwen heard the lie, yet she couldn’t prove it. Gwen was left by Mrs. Thompson’s door; Samantha knocking and then fleeing like a zookeeper leaving steaks for lions. “Come in, come in,” Mrs. Thompson said. She was already positioned by the makeshift changing mat on the floor. “Don’t be shy,” she cooed. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” The sodden padding swaying between her thighs with every step. This time, she forgot to lift her skirt up, and Mrs. Thompson had to instruct her to lift her hips first. She’d been so eager, so relieved to get out of the wet diaper and into a fresh one that she’d forgotten the first step. “My my my!” her boss said after undoing the tapes. “Looks like someone was very close to leaking! Yes she was! Yes she was!” She threw in little tickling motions towards Gwen’s belly-button, and her voice went up nearly an octave. “Let’s get my girl all fresh and clean!” She started wiping Gwen down. “Fresh fresh fresh! Clean clean clean! This is the way we wipe wipe wipe! Gwen swallowed hard. “Um...ma’am…?” “Yes Gwenny?” “You’re talking to me like I’m a baby or something. Like I’m a Little. I’m not…” “Oh, sorry dear.” Mrs. Thompson smiled. “I didn’t notice.” The real question though, was what didn’t Mrs. Thompson notice? Her talking, or that Gwen wasn’t a Little? The rest of the diaper change, the wiping, the powdering, passed silently. The new diaper being taped on expertly with only minimal effort from the barista. Even with all of the cool, cleansing powder sliding around in her fresh diaper, Gwen couldn’t shake the feeling that spots had been missed; that she still smelled slightly of pee...like a baby. Gwen was still made to go throw out her old diaper in the dumpster. That made her feel more Amazon; more grown-up; she supposed. ************************************************************************************************* Gwen drove home exhausted that night, having been pressured into another double shift. All day long people were noticing and commenting on her padded underwear peaking out from her too short skirt. Samantha never hesitated to explain for Gwen, telling the tale with relish. The Amazon had heard the story of her pooping herself so many times today that it almost felt like she was never potty trained. She couldn’t argue or debate without getting cut off- and all of the strangers took the non-diapered barista’s word over her own. The entire endeavor had been emotionally, mentally and physically draining. So draining that after Mrs. Thompson changed her the second time just before closing, she neither objected, nor tore the damn thing off as soon as she got home. She sat on her bed, running through the day over and over again. It was only the added warmth spreading out that Gwen remembered that she didn’t HAVE to wet herself at home. The diapers were supposed to be for the store, only... “Awwwww,” a voice that was not quite memory flared in her brain “Is the widdle girl havin’ an accident in her baby panties?” No one had said anything like that to her today, but somehow there was truth to the statement. Even if no one had said that, clearly every person she’d interacted with today had thought that on some level. Even the Little riding on her Mommy’s hip saw her as having more in common with Gwen than her grown-up Mommy. Another kind of warmth spread in Gwen’s diaper. Shit. Something was happening. She needed to get off, in the worst way. Lifting her skirt, she squeezed the front of her diaper. “Not THAT wet” a figment of Samantha declared. She could take care of that... Briefly, only briefly, Gwen considered going to the shower to clean off her muscles ached so; the shower might as well have been a million miles away. All she really wanted to do was lie down and get off. Laying back and closing her eyes, she grabbed her vibrator from it’s trusty drawer from her nightstand. Part of her considered untaping the diaper first, but that would just mean she’d have to clean her fingers and vibrator after all. Maybe wash her sheets. No. Let’s keep the sheets clean. The gentle buzz filled her ears and mingled with her breathy moans as she worked on herself. She tried to relax and tense up in all the right places and think of cute boys from movies and T.V. and past dates that had ended particularly well. Insead, amidst the crinkle and squishing and buzzing and moaning, she got another image. “Looks like someone was very close to leaking! Yes she was! Yes she was!” An imaginary Mrs. Thompson cooed. This time, with her eyes closed, Mrs. Thompson looked much bigger...and Gwen felt much smaller...weaker...more helpless. This time, when the older woman threw in little tickling motions towards her belly-button, and her voice went up nearly an octave, Gwen allowed herself to giggle and squirm. “Let’s get my girl all fresh and clean!” The young woman started to grind her hips. “Fresh fresh fresh! Clean clean clean! This is the way we wipe wipe wipe!” Gwen wasn’t on the floor this time; she was much higher. Gwen didn’t even make it through the mental diaper change before she reached her first climax…. ************************************************************************************************* “Gwen!” Mrs. Thompson almost shrieked the next morning. “Why are you already wet?” Whether it was disgust or delight, Gwen couldn’t tell. After the delight of last night, Gwen woke up especially disgusted with herself. “I was just trying to be good,” Gwen lied. “You got mad at me for taking the diaper off yesterday...so I thought…” she let the fib trail off. What had actually happened was that she had collapsed under the weight of her own orgasms and fallen asleep on top of her bed. Gwen hadn’t remembered to set her alarm. In her panic from waking up so late she’d forgotten to change back into panties for the drive over. She was still wearing the same skirt as yesterday. The diaper now sagged and squished heavily, even worse than the first one; Gwen having decided to pee on her way into work rather than hold it and have the need to wet immediately after being changed. Mrs. Thompson tisked and shook her head, her luxurious bottle blonde hair seeming to flow like a river. “What am I going to do with you?” she wondered around. Instead of moseying over to the changing blanket, she snuck a finger under Gwen’s chin, causing her to look up. “Maybe I should leave you in that wet diaper until you leak, silly girl. Would you like that?” “N-n-n-no?” Gwen felt the finger withdraw as her boss’s other hand squeezed the padding oozing out from her skirt. “That would be very long, though.” “I was trying-” “To be a good girl, I know,” the older, more powerful woman finished the sentence. “You just didn’t think things through.” That much was true. “No, ma’am…” Mrs. Thompson strolled behind her desk and opened a drawer. She took out a canvas tote bag; a simple promotional item from a charity drive. “This will have to do.” “Do, ma’am?” Gwen asked. “Before you go home tonight,” her employer instructed, “I want you to pack this as your diaper bag. Wipes, powder, diapers, everything. Take it home with you.” She paused a moment to let it sink in. “And before you go to bed, I expect you to call me and tell me that you’ve changed yourself.” “Call-?” “No need to thank me. These grown-up diapers are expensive, but there’s almost no way you could go through an entire package of them in a week if you only got changed at work.” Gwenny felt the full weight of her employer’s accusing gaze. “Unless you want to spend all of tonight in a wet or dirty diaper?” “N-n-n-no ma’am…” She had to fight the urge to hide her face in her hands again. Somehow this one woman had the effect of an entire shop staring at her. Mrs. Thompson smiled. “Good.” “Yes, ma’am.” “And Gwenny?” “Yes, ma’am?” The older woman had moved over to the changing blanket. “Come lay down and get changed, silly girl. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.” “Yes, ma’am…” There was more pep in her step on her way over to the blanket. *************************************************************************************************** That night, when Gwen found herself masturbating to the idea of getting her diaper changed, she was no longer on a changing pad or table; but out on a park bench. Mommy Thompson had packed her diaper bag, and was changing her front of everyone. And everyone watched. And they clapped. Some giggled. Some cooed. Some cheered. Some jeered. And only the Littles who shared her situation could appreciate it. Only they understood her excitement and plight. And even they didn’t fully get it. They were just babies in a big world. She was big, but...but...but…. **************************************************************************************************** It was eleven on a Thursday and Gwenny was hurting. Her stomach wanted to murder her just then Being diapered since Tuesday and not daring to use the toilet even at home for fear of upsetting her boss, Gwenny hadn’t pooped since the incident on Monday. Her bladder, she had gained a new degree of mastery over. She was becoming increasingly comfortable with wetting her diaper; despite (or because of) the coos and teasing from customers and coworkers alike. Her ass was another matter entirely. Gwenny was backed up. It hurt. Alot. “Heeeeere’s your order, sir.” Her face became a mask of pain. She couldn’t poop her pants on purpose. She just couldn’t. Doing so would be to willingly throw away her adultness in its entirety. But would it really? She wasn’t allowed to take the diaper off. Wouldn’t it be MORE mature to just focus and get the pain over with? Wouldn’t it be MORE adult to recognize the limitation that had been placed on her and just make get it over with? She’d seen plenty of Littles, early in the stages of their adoption, struggle and clench and cry as they voided their bowls into their pants; completely unable to accept their new reality. That’s how one knew they were babies. Sadly for Gwen, while such circular logic might work on her mind, her bottom wanted nothing to do with it. Her body just wouldn’t let it. “F-f-f-f-fuck iiiiit!” “Excuse me?” The Tweener picking up his coffee asked. Gwenny didn’t respond. Unable to fully close her eyes she squinted like a cat and started to squat. Squat. And push. Muffled farts started pouring out… “What the fu-” The Tweener caught himself. “What the fudge is she doing?” he asked Samantha. “Oh, Baby Gwenny? She’s pooping, I think.” Samantha waved her hand in front of her face. “Yup. She’s making boom booms...a present for her Mommy. Her Maturosis must be flaring up hard!” Maturosis. That was the word that was being used to described baby Littles these days. “She’s not a Little, though.” The male Tweener said. “It happens sometimes,” Samantha said, nonchalantly. “She must have a Little somewhere in her family. It’s rare. But it happens.” The Tweener boy seemed mystified, curious even. “No kiddin’?” “That’s what the doctor’s note says. Don’t worry, she can still work and make coffee pretty good. She just needs me to keep her from getting too distracted.” All of this was, of course, complete and total bullshit. Gwenny had zero Littles in her family tree and there was no doctor’s note to speak of. She didn’t contradict Samantha, however. She was too busy pushing and savoring the rush: The physical relief of pushing a load out and voiding herself, while relishing in being talked about and talked over mixed with the self loathing and shame of doing something that she knew good and well that she was too old to be doing. Too old. Too big. Too mature. Too grown-up. Too Amazon. And yet… Gwenny hadn’t quite reached anything too untoward when she stopped pushing and let gravity and a muscle inertial take over; but she was panting from more than just the strain and sighing from more than just the relief of finally emptying herself out. “Phew…” “I’ll say…” Gwenny ignored the comment’ didn’t even see which Tweener it came from. She simply turned back to her work station and started making the next order. “What do you think you’re doing?” Samantha asked. Gwenny shrugged. “Workin’. Why?” Samantha took her hand. “Come on stink butt, let’s go get you changed.” A small jolt sparked in Gwenny’s brain. “But I’m not s’posed to get changed till lunch!” “Not when you’ve got a full load,” Samantha countered. Gwenny followed her co-worker, seemingly so much more mature and aware of the rules of diapers than she felt. “Pfft...babies…” She was being called a baby...by someone who barely came up to her chest. She knew how she felt about that, but she didn’t know how to feel about feeling that way... “You poopied?” Mrs. Thompson asked. She didn’t even wait for Gwenny to confirm; instead pressing her hand against the back of her diaper, feeling and mashing the mess up against the younger woman. “You certainly did. That’s a lot.” “I haven’t pooped in a few da-” Gwenny stopped herself; shut her mouth so quickly her teeth clicked. Why would she admit that? What businesses was it of her boss’s? Then again, what business was it of her boss’s to demand a phone call when Gwenny changed herself before bed. She’d still called, though… Mrs. Thompson guided the younger, smaller Amazon to the old pink blanket. Instead of kneeling beside it, The older Amazon sat down. Gwenny was made to lie down, too, but instead of flat, she was sat down and cradled in the older woman’s lap. She flinched as she felt even more of her mess spread and shift around. It still wasn’t as bad as Monday’s mess. This one stayed in place more and wasn’t dripping down her legs or ruining her skirt. “I didn’t think you had it in you,” Mrs. Thompson said. “That was a very brave, very grown-up thing you did.” Gwen arched her brow. She was a grown-up? For pooping her pants on purpose? “Most Amazons would have held it in, struggled, hurt themselves. Maybe even try and make it to noon so they could use the potty in between changes.” She chuckled, her eyes. “I would have let you if you’d just asked. But instead you made the choice to go potty in your pants like a good girl.” A knot formed in the back of Gwenny’s throat. Good girl? How was she supposed to know that there were workarounds to this diaper punishment thing? She’d never been diaper punished! “You didn’t tell me I could have asked to use the potty for...for...” “You never asked.” The matter seemed closed. Mrs. Thompson got a far off look in her eyes. “I used to work in a daycare, you know? Here in town.” Gwenny didn’t know. “I left because I got tired of whining Little brats who were ungrateful for all the love being given to them. Littles don’t know how easy they have it.” She looked down at Gwenny. Sitting in the older woman’s lap, Instinctively, Gwenny curled her spine as she was slowly rocked, bringing her at about eye level with Mrs. Thompson’s breast. “I think.you deserve a treat.” Mrs. Thompson pulled down her top. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Gwenny stared at the tit, engorged and dripping in milk. It wasn’t uncommon for Amazons, even ones Mrs. Thompson’s age, to take special hormone pills; but they typically only did it when they were nursing a Little...or a baby. “Will this make me more grown-up?” Gwenny asked. “No.” Head propelled forward, Gwenny felt no choice but to take the tit into her mouth. Five minutes of moaning, blushing, rubbing, and squirming later; she was finally changed. Her baby pants had been even fuller than when she’d started. She’d struggled at first; screamed a bit. But only at first. Only a bit… ************************************************************************************************ “Baby Gwenny!” Mrs. Thompson scolded. “Already? It’s not even nine!” Standing in a drooping, shit filled diaper, Gwenny hung her head low. “Sorrry Mo-...” she corrected herself. “Ma’am. I really had to go.” Even with the scolding, Mrs. Thompson didn’t seem all that upset. Or surprised. “You KNOW that I would have let you use the potty during your change this morning to make boom-booms!” Gwenny was frowning, but didn’t feel all that sad. “I know. But I couldn’t control it this time.” “I hardly think two poopy accidents would make you lose control again, little miss.” “The laxative,” Gwenny pleaded. “I took some more of it.” Mrs. Thompson cocked her head to the side. “You what?” “It’s just that I was hurting so much yesterday,” Gwenny tried to explain. “I didn’t want it to hurt that much again so I-” “Skirt! Off! Now!” Thompson ordered. Today’s too-short skirt, a silky, almost see-through number, was sliding off Gwenny’s hips before “Now” had been barked. An iron grip came, not for Gwenny’s wrist, but for her earlobe “OW OW OW!” she screeched as her employer dragged her in nothing but a t-shirt and diaper by the side of her head to the front of the store. “TELL THEM WHAT YOU DID!” Mrs. Thompson screamed. Everyone in the cafe looked up from their phones and drinks. “i pooped my diaper…” “Pfft,” Samantha rolled her eyes. “Everybody already knows that.” “SAMANTHA! NOT! NOW!” The color drained away from the Tweener’s face and for the first time all week she more closely resembled her meeker, mild mannered self. “TELL THEM WHAT YOU REALLY DID!” All eyes were back on Gwenny “i poisoned myself to make myself go poopy. on purpose.” “WHY?! THE TRUTH! NOW!” “because i wanted you to change me. and feed me. and cuddle me.” “AND?” Gwenny looked around the room. “and i wanted everyone here to knooooooow….” tears were starting to flow down the not-so-big girl’s cheeks. “DOES THAT SOUND MATURE? DOES THAT SOUND GROWN-UP? DOES THAT SOUND AMAZONIAN?” Gwenny was silently crying. “DOES IT?” “nooooooooooooooooo….!” her voice was just as choked and squeaky as any Little she’d seen after they’d been taken down a notch or two. Mrs. Thompson pulled a chair out from a table and sat down. She pointed to her lap. Baby Gwenny, knowing better, sprawled herself over it instead of sitting directly on her lap. She heard a note of glee come to the older woman’s eyes. “New special! For every dollar that people put in the tip jar, this big baby, this pitiful excuse for an adult, gets a swat right on her messy diapered behind!” Mrs. Thompson announced. “Samantha. Keep count.” Baby Gwenny didn’t look up. She did however, here many hurried footsteps towards the tip jar. By the clinking sounds some people were even emptying their pockets. THWACK! The sound of the swat, of hand smacking plastic and pulp and mush, broke the girl’s concentration. Baby Gwenny flinched. THWACK THWACK! Baby Gwenny itched, the lump becoming more of a paste. THWACK THWACK THWACK! Baby Gwenny squirmed, the padding thinning from abuse and onslaught. She was starting to feel the blows. THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! Baby Gwenny wriggled. THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! Baby Gwenny thrashed. Baby Gwenny cried. THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! Baby Gwenny screamed and grasped THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! Mrs. Thompson started talking. “YOU DESERVE THIS!” “Yes ma’am!” Baby Gwenny couldn’t help. It didn’t help THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “YES WHAT?” “YES MOMMY!” THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “HAVE YOU BEEN YOU ACTING LIKE AN ADULT?!” THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “NO MOMMY!” THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “DO YOU DESERVE THIS?” Baby Gwenny was crying and gasping for air. “YES MOMMY!” THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN ACTING LIKE?” THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “A LITTLE!” There was a pause, just long enough for Gwenny to gulp some air. “WRONG ANSWER! LITTLES DON’T POISON THEMSELVES! EVEN THE IMMATURE ONES!” THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! THWACK THWACK THWACK THWACK! “WHAT! HAVE! YOU! BEEN! ACTING! LIKE!” “A BAAAAAAAAAAAAABY!” THWACK! As she orgasmed into her mushy diaper with the final swat; Baby Gwenny came face to face with an uncomfortable truth about herself. She wasn’t ready for this to end. She was loving this. She NEEDED this. The applause from the onlookers nearly matched the number of swats Baby Gwenny had just received. Trembling, Baby Gwenny crawled off her employer’s lap, sitting on her knees. Mrs. Thompson cleared her throat and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “It’s a good thing today is your last day of punishment.” “NO!” “What?” The older woman seemed surprised; just not that surprised. More like she hadn’t quite heard the younger Amazon correctly. She’d have to beg for it, Baby Gwenny knew. “Please! Don’t stop it! I need this!” “Need what?” Still on her knees, Baby Gwenny gestured down to her disheveled, messy, diapered, sub-Amazon state. “this…..” Then she added, “please...Mommy…” Mrs. Thompson smirked and stared cooly down at the wreck that Baby Gwenny had become. “You’ll have to wear diapers full time.” “Yes, Mommy.” “You’ll still be working here, too. You’re a baby, but you’re not a Little. You’ll still have to do chores.” “Yes, Mommy.” “And you’ll be moving in with me.” “Yes, Mommy.” “And no more pants or skirts. It’ll be easier to check and change you.” “Yes, Mommy.” “And I’m taking your diapers out of your paycheck from now on.” “Yes, Mommy.” “And when I’m not up here, it’ll be Samantha who’s in charge.” That gave Gwendolyn pause. She looked over to a smirking, eager, and triumphant Tweener, still counting tips behind the counter. “Yes, Mommy.” Baby Gwenny said. Mrs. Thompson stood. She opened her arms wide. “Come to Mommy...baby girl!” “AWWWWWWWW!” For that tense moment, Baby Gwenny had forgotten people were watching her. They’d always be watching her, now. She’d never escape this. She’d never want to. That Little spiking her drink was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And the worst. And the best. Fair was fair. ********************************************************************************************** Samantha smiled to herself. Switching those coffee cups (and their lids) was the easiest hundred bucks and a promotion she’d ever earned. The Little who’d bribed her had had a good idea. Give that bitch Gwendolyn a taste of her own medicine. Samantha just hadn’t expected the giant to like it. (The End) Special

The night was quiet. Dead quiet. But, every night was dead to Chelsea. And every day, even when there was life outside, was dead to Chelsea. After all, she did not have a life anymore. Dead was her only option. Being a ghost was not a life-changing experience. It was a death-changing experience. She had to learn to stop using the “L” word. It only made her sad and nostalgic. She still remembered how it all ended and started. She went to bed one Saturday, feeling particularly queasy. When she didn’t wake up on Sunday, she felt lighter than air. She was too busy sulking and coping to hear the coroner’s report. She was already dead. How it happened didn’t matter much now. The first few nights of her death were her experimental phase. Trying to see what movies and books and TV got right about ghosts. The possession stuff was mostly true. Moving people was still beyond her, but moving objects was a fun new hobby. She found a new distaste for loud noises and bright sunlight. They weren’t fatal. Just extremely annoying. It was not much of an issue. She was always a night owl at heart. Chelsea always did her best work at night. Tonight, she hoped, was one of those nights. She floated high above the city buildings, looking for a home she had not haunted yet. She was starting to become glad that she had died in a big city. She had more options than she knew what to do with in this next life. How funny, how dark. “Eenie-meanie…” The ghostly gal sang to herself, her finger dancing from building to building, “Miny…That one!” She found her target, dashing through the walls of a particularly fetching apartment complex. Ghosts did not have much for feelings, but Chelsea had a great feeling for tonight. She landed inside of a plain looking bedroom. She spotted a woman who was about Chelsea’s age (assuming she had not died some time ago) sitting at her computer screen. “Alrighty,” Chelsea said, cracking the nonexistent bones in her ghostly knuckles, “Let me see what I can do.” When you die, they can’t hear you, by the way. Anyone who says otherwise is a total liar. Chelsea found that out day one. A ghost could be screaming straight into your ear, an all it would translate to is an odd chill. Chelsea casually strolled over beside the girl, glancing at her computer screen. People always acted more interestingly when they thought no one was watching. The stories that ghosts could tell. It normally gave Chelsea a good idea on where to start. Chelsea waited a while, watching both the woman and her computer, until something interesting had happened. Here’s what she got. The woman’s name was Nora. She was in college, third year. Chelsea couldn’t tell her major, but guessed it was English. Nothing too amazing or surprising. She looked like a stereotypical bookworm anyway. Thick black glasses. A neat and tidy haircut. She probably thought that ghost belonged in the fiction section. Chelsea was getting ready to leave and to declare tonight as a bust. But all that changed when the nerd finally emoted, slumping back in her seat. She closed out her browser and loaded up a file on her computer. The woman and the ghost stared at the computer screen in anticipation, both unknowingly sharing a rush of excitement as the title card dropped. “POV: Mommy’s Special Punishment” This. Was. Perfect! Nerdy types were always a gamble. But when they hit, boy did they hit. When she was still alive, Chelsea had always considered herself an artist. She loved a good storyline, especially when it sprouted from real people. Nora here was a classic. Wallflower by day, deviant by night? This was her best pull yet! “Nora!” the ghost chided playfully, “You sneak!” Chelsea knew Nora could not hear her. The commentary was for Chelsea’s sake only. Even if she could, Nora was far too excited to stop what she was doing. Nora hopped off her seat to fetch something from under her bed on the other side of the room. Chelsea chose to watch the computer screen as the first scene played. Fade from black. The computer screen displayed a buxom blonde woman. Her apparel was in the style of a sexy librarian seen in hundreds of other smutty films like this one. She stared into the camera, looking rather cross. “You are in big trouble, missy, I just got off of the phone with your teacher, and I am very disappointed with you.” The story beats were nothing groundbreaking. The stepmother character was punishing her stepdaughter for missing school and having failing grades. Nothing Chelsea hadn’t seen before, but also… “Your homeroom teacher tells me you’ve been having accidents again. Honestly! I am so disappointed in you. You are already nineteen! Don’t you think you are too old for this. Apparently not, because you keep going potty in your panties.” This was…different. Had the humiliation game gotten an update while she was away? Chelsea was not sure how to get into whatever this was. Then again, ghosts were not “into” anything. Libido was for the living. Despite this, Chelsea was still confident in her ability to spot something niche and taboo. What was Nora watching? Chelsea looked over to the woman in question, and her surprise was renewed. Nora was sitting down, stark naked. That wasn’t the interesting part. What was interesting was the toys she pulled out. Diapers. Adult diapers. Adult diapers designed to look like baby diapers. Decorated head-to-toe with imagery of lollipops and gumdrops and candy corn. Even the package had a juvenile design to match. There were other appropriate tools as well. Baby powder, baby oil. A pacifier, with a size that bordered on comical. “If you are going to act like a baby, I have no choice but to treat you like one.” “But Mommy…” Nora replied in bated breaths. “No butts, little missy. Except for yours covered in powder. Now lie down.” Nora complied, seating herself in the open diaper as instructed. Chelsea knew she should jump in at some point, but this was all too rich. If she still had a working heart, it would be beating out of her chest. This was all so new to her. Yet it was all so exciting. Really! She wasn’t even sure ghosts could be excited until today. Perhaps it was due to the ether of everything, and Nora’s excitement was rubbing off on her. Chelsea didn’t know where to start. She looked at the young nude woman, who eagerly hung onto every word from the woman onscreen. Chelsea looked over towards the computer. The woman on screen was lying out an open diaper in front of the camera. Similar in size to Nora’s, but with a much more traditional white design. “There are going to be some big changes around here, little missy. You are going to do exactly as Mommy says.” An idea popped into the ghost’s head. Chelsea floated over to Nora, knowing exactly the role she needed to play. “I don’t want to hear any more of your mouth today. This stays in, no buts.” The actress held a pacifier up to the camera and pushed it forward, out of view. Both Chelsea and Nora got the memo, but Nora acted faster. She corked the pacifier in her mouth, eagerly suckling on it. Chelsea mused, “Alright, I can do that.” She snapped her fingers, deploying her first ghostly trick. “Mmmph!?” Nora gave a shocked shriek as the pacifier’s strap was tightened in place. “No, no, no. Don’t fuss. Mommy doesn’t want to hear any of your backtalk.” “Man, how can you even hear this thing,” Chelsea griped, “Did you set the volume to four?” Taking matters into her own hands, Chelsea snapped her fingers, and cracked the volume to max. She also took the liberty of floating the laptop next to Nora, so she could get a better view. Nora, all the while, laid there in stunned silence. Objects, Chelsea found out early, were very easy to levitate. And what were clothes, if not objects people chose to wear? Humans were not easy targets. But the clothes made them like fish on a line. If a human was wearing a heavy jacket or a pair of jeans, anything really, Ghost had a much easier time moving them to-and-fro. Nora tried to get back up, but Chelsea wasn’t having it. Chelsea had a solid grip on the pacifier and forced the girl back down with ease. “Hold your horses. I’m still figuring this stuff out. We haven’t even got to the good part yet.” “Now let me get you all powdered up. This is going to smell so much nicer than a pair of wet panties.” The actress drizzled a liberal amount of powder in front of the camera. Chelsea floated the powder over the girl’s crotch, trying to match the dosage. Chelsea tried her best not to be wasteful. She knew how easily college drained any excess funds. Chelsea was also glad the whole “Powder revealed ghosts” thing was a myth. “Mommy is going to rub that in now…there we go. Nice and fresh.” Chelsea looked down at Nora, still sweating and splayed out. Most of the powder managed to land on her privates, and was ample for rubbing in. Chelsea brought her palm down, mimicking the circular motions seen in the video. Ghosts still had the ability to move certain things with their hands, even if they were not technically touching. Ripples in the water. Waves in the sand. Basically, if the wind could move it, a ghost probably could too. Powder, baby or otherwise, was one of the lucky objects. For ghosts, it was an improvement, because they didn’t need to clean their hands from messes afterwards. “Now, time for the oil. Mommy wants to make sure you stay nice and soft.” Chelsea looked over to the baby oil and paused. It was not a matter of could, but rather of should. Applying baby oil was something of an invasive process. Chelsea felt like she was close to crossing a line. Fun was fun, but Nora had her rights. Before Chelsea had the chance to leave, her night partner decided for her. Nora was staring in her direction, eagerly holding up the jar of baby oil with both hands. Chelsea knew Nora couldn’t see her. She knew it. Not one person had been able to see her yet. But perhaps, maybe, Nora was able to feel her. Feeling was an entirely different game than seeing. If seeing was believing, what did that make feeling? Make-believing? Make-believing. Make-believing was for fairy tales and figments, and ghosts who found themselves in impossible situations. And the people who ended up near them. And Nora sure as hell looked ready to make-believe tonight. “MM-oil!” The young woman demanded behind the bulb of her pacifier. As an experiment, Chelsea tipped the oil onto Nora’s privates. She waited patiently for further instructions… “Mm-ub! Mub!” While her speech was garbled, Nora’s message was clear. Nora wanted a haunting, bad. A haunt with a willing participant. This girl was so full of surprises! Well, Chelsea definitely was not going to leave her wanting now! Best she could, Chelsea took her hand and rubbed the oil in. Oil was thicker than powder, but Nora wasn’t complaining. Quite the opposite. She squirmed and panted with every motion. Chelsea pegged Nora for the quiet type. That was probably true, on any night but this one. Between the pacified pants and the video’s audio, there was not a second of quiet in the small apartment room. “Good girl. Now let’s get this taped up. There we go.” “Mommy” folded and taped the diaper shut. Chelsea followed suit, pulling the tapes on Chelsea’s diaper together. They stuck together easily, leaving the ghost feeling oddly proud. Nora’s eyes sparkled when she stared down at the final result. Chelsea wiped off her hands, feeling satisfied. “I gotta say, Nora. You really know how to have a good time. Glad I could stop by.” “Ah-ah! Stay down, little lady. Mommy isn’t done yet. We still have to get all those naughty feelings out of your system.” While Chelsea looked confused, Nora was drooling at the sight on-screen. Just when Chelsea thought she knew the score, another curve ball came flying her way. “Don’t try to act innocent, sweetie. Mommy has seen it all before. Stuck thinking about boys? Girls? Hey, hey. It’s okay. Mommy knows how frustrating it can be, not being able to act on your feelings.” The woman shook a strange device in front of the camera. It vaguely resembled a microphone, painted white instead of black. The top(?) was also flat and smooth as well. Nora had one of her own and held it to the sky like the oil before. Chelsea floated it out of her partner’s hand and began to examine it. Right off the bat, she could tell it was electrical. No issue. Ghost had no problem flicking on electric devices. Lamps and light switches and the lot were all basic. After twirling the toy in the air a few times, Chelsea managed to click it on, producing a low buzz. While Chelsea was still in the dark, Nora knew exactly what it was for, signaled by her rapid nodding. Chelsea once again turned to the on-screen video for guidance. “That’s right. Let it all out. Mommy only wants to help.” The mommy was rubbing the device over the front of the diaper. Simple enough, right? Chelsea made contact. Nora curled her feet. All the pieces fell into place. As an artist, Chelsea should have known better. You can’t have a great story without a strong climax. “Mmmmph!” The college girl moaned behind her rubber nipple. Chelsea laughed. She found herself being struck with a giddy sense of excitement that she had forgotten from days alive. Hell, this might even be better than that. This was raw. This was scary and raw and exciting. Oh, this was alive! All the wonderful and beautiful feelings that told someone they were alive! Two strangers, sharing a night together. Two souls, knowing what it meant to feel alive. “Ooh! I think Mommy is getting warmer. Come on darling, let it all out. Mommy’s vibrator sped up, and so did Chelsea’s. The ghost did not need Nora’s help to find the next level of speed. “MMMMMPPH!” “That’s it! You are doing so well!” Chelsea rubbed and pressed the vibrator as best she could. Even without Nora’s muffled praise, she knew she was doing well. Better than anyone else could. Better, because she cared about this moment. This feeling. “One more. Almost there! Come on now baby!” “MMMph! MMpph! MMMmph!” The vibrator was at max level now. There was no stopping now. Their story was coming to an end, but the end was coming all the same. Chelsea was sure she was shaking herself now, at the very end. Faster. Faster! At the very end! “MMMPH!” “You can do it baby! Do it for Mommy!” This was it! They were here! She was— “MMMMMMMoOoOOOoOAh!!!” “There we go! Good girl! Mommy is so proud of you! We got all those naughty, sticky, pent-up feelings out! Mommy knew you could do it! Now, Mommy still has to punish you. Skipping school and wetting your panties is a big no-no. But don’t worry. I’m sure after this weekend, you will be ready to be the good girl Mommy knows you can be!” When she was still alive, Chelsea had considered herself an artist. She loved seeing stories sprouting, especially from people. A wallflower and a ghost share a night of unbridled passion? It was one she would not soon forget. People were often so hard for new ghosts to levitate, because of how much they tended to wriggle and panic and squirm. Nora, however, did not prove to be a problem. She was still enjoying her glaze, not willing to fight much of anything now. Especially not the ghost who had given her an unforgettable night. Chelsea took note of this, and gently floated the woman into bed, tucking her in. Chelsea undid the straps on Nora’s pacifier, but Nora still suckled on it all the same. Chelsea even went so far as to tidy up her space. She cleaned up all the changing supplies and sent the laptop, like its owner, to sleep. It was hard to tell how Nora would react when she woke up. After her hauntings, Chelsea never stayed to find out. It wasn’t her style. In both life and death, she never liked staying in one place for too long. “Well, that was certainly something. Looks like you had even more fun than me! First time for everything, I suppose.” Chelsea landed an invisible kiss on Nora’s cheek, and Nora smiled tenderly. “I hope you find a mommy who can give you nights just like this one.” Just as horny college students needed their rest, so did ghosts. Chelsea faded back into the shadows, off to find some dark nook to rest during the day. As she did so, she found herself looking forward to all the new experiences death could bring. There were so many fun and exciting people out there, just like Nora. Chelsea couldn’t wait to meet them all.

Bedtimes were the worst. Eleanor knew this to be fact, as she stared up at the clock that hung on the pastel pink walls of her nursery. The cartoon cat on the wall was almost taunting her with its Cheshire smile, as its eyes swayed back and forth with every ticking second. While the cat did not mind having the hours of the day plastered on its belly, Eleanor felt her gut sink as she saw the time. Seven-thirty. Bedtime was upon her. The fact that this disturbed her so much only fueled her further shame. She was a grown woman. She was! Even if everything surrounding her tried to prove the opposite. There was her room, drowned in pastel colors from the striped walls to the fluffy pink carpet. There was her toy chest, filled with plushies and blocks and other juvenile excuses for entertainment. There was her closet, ready to burst with humiliating outfits. Everything from rompers to onesies to overalls to frilly dresses that belong on baby dolls. Nothing she wore allowed any sense of maturity. Nothing at all… Eleanor kicked her splayed legs in frustration, causing a chorus of crinkles to erupt from her undergarments. There were diapers. The ones she was forced to wear at all hours of the day. The ones that puff out with an obvious silhouette. The ones that managed to peek under every skirt, giving the whole world a sneak preview of her underwear. But that wasn’t right. Calling them underwear would be an insult to real underwear. But real underwear was off limits, so Eleanor had to settle for the poofy imitations. Every day, from sunrise to bedtime. Eleanor’s blood turned to ice as she heard the door creak open. “Elly baby!” A booming and carefree voice sang, “It’s beddy-bye time! Let’s get you changed and ready for your trip to dreamland.” It was Mommy. The giant woman who was responsible for her new life. She had a real name. It just wasn’t one Eleanor was allowed to use. Many punishment sessions made that abundantly clear. She was so commanding. So dominant. So mature. She was all these things, and she hid it very well. Behind the veil of a sweet, innocent homemaker. Eleanor had not known what she had done to deserve to cross this woman’s path. In truth, there was no greater reason than fulfilling her desires. Elly was like a rare doll at a flea market. A little treasure too cute to pass up. So that’s what Mommy did. She took her. Far away from the troubles of her adult life. To be fawned over, like other countless Littles. By the Amazons. What other outcome was there? They were bigger, smarter, and had so much love to give. Amazons could not help but target these affections to Littles. Mommy came into Eleanor’s life, smothered her with all the love she never asked for. And she did it all with a smile on her face. Mommy was already well dressed for bedtime. Curlers rolled through her blonde locks. A soft pink nightgown that hugged her generous proportions. She looked ready to down a cup of chamomile tea and drift off herself. Now, seven-thirty was too early a bedtime for most grown-ups. Eleanor knew that, from back when she considered herself part of the same flock. Days when she was overworked and found herself crashing asleep on the couch right around five. Days long past her now. Maybe Mommy was having one of those days herself. Elly had no business in knowing, or in asking. “But Mommy, I’m not tired yet. Can I please stay up just a little bit longer?” Eleanor pouted her lips and looked up toward the mountain of a woman with her best pair of babydoll eyes. It was a weak gambit, she knew that. Eleanor was only delaying the inevitable. The gambit was more for Eleanor than anyone else. Eleanor wanted to prove that she still had some fight left in her. Even after the countless spankings, hours in corner-time, and mouthfuls of castor oil, she still had some fight left in her. Mommy shook her head and wagged a finger. “Uh-uh. We don’t want a cranky wee one on our hands.” Her tone stayed cheery, but Eleanor knew that her words were final and absolute. “But Mommy, I really—Mmmph!” Her protests were cut short as she was met with the familiar taste of a pacifier bulb. The rubber invader inflated and expanded in Eleanor’s mouth, ensuring that it could only be removed by a grown-up—a status Mommy had revoked from Eleanor long ago. “It sounds like my little girl has a lot of big ideas today.” Mommy chided, her tone becoming much firmer, “But bedtime cannot be pushed back any further. So, she will just have to keep them to herself until morning.” Elanor sunk her head, now swiftly defeated. She allowed herself to be lifted and cradled by the giant woman. Eleanor was the Little, after all. There was no strategy in the world that would help someone of her stature trounce an Amazon. None that yielded results, other than being scolded and having one’s bottom swatted repeatedly. However, any late-night randevu would not be complete with a quick visit to the changing table. The Amazon laid Eleanor on her back and prodded at the girl’s soggy padding. “Looks like someone had a run-in with the sog-monster,” Mommy giggled, a dainty hand clasped over her mouth. Eleanor could only lie back and blush. Teasing was customary, and never once did it not feel demoralizing. As Mommy finished assembling the changing supplies, Eleanor looked up and came face-to-face with a crinkling adversary. To call the diaper thick would be an understatement. It was a monstrous brick of fluff. The deep blue color was matched with designs of crescent moons and cartoon whales. A very appropriate design choice, as the thing looked prepared to soak up an ocean. The padding effectively stated that Mommy’s expectations of a dry night from her Little were as low as possible. Were a fairy tale, just like the ones she sometimes read to Elleanor before bed. There was simply nothing she could do. With expert aim, the beastly padding dove straight under Elanor’s bum. Her legs were dropped, and she rested on the impossibly soft surface below. Before she could even protest (with a pacifier-filtered scream), her nether region was cloaked in a cloud of powder. Any nasty smells that made their way into her diaper would be overpowered by scents of sweet vanilla. One of Mommy’s giant hands got to work, and liberally rubbed the powder in. Along with a heap of anti-rash cream, which had proved quite effective in the past. Sticky tapes scrunched and were pulled together, sealing the colossal padding. Eleanor felt her gait spread as the diaper closed, her movement now greatly hindered. Even rolling herself over would be a true test of strength. “Much better. Mommy knows how much her baby loves a nice, dry diaper.” The Amazon said, smiling softly. Was she truly innocent and well-meaning or did the act of controlling the smaller woman give or a sadistic sense of joy? Eleanor had no way of knowing, and neither theory gave her closure. “It’s going to be warm tonight, so we will skip over the jammies for tonight.” Mommy wormed off all for the little one’s evening wear, leaving Elly exposed completely, save for her padded privates. Of course. Babies did not care much for modesty, right? Eleanor was not averse to sleeping topless. But when that call was being made by another woman who did not even see her as grown, it became more humiliating than liberating. Even with her chest exposed to the elements, she felt less like an adult, and more like a hapless toddler. The crinkly mass on her butt and the rubber nipple in her mouth made it all too obvious. As they approached the gigantic crib, with its high bars and taunting mobile, Eleanor felt a bead of sweat run down her head. It was okay, she was a trooper. She had nothing to worry about. There was nothing she needed to feel guilty about. Eleanor had been on her best behavior. She hadn’t gotten into any trouble. She kept most of her backtalk to herself. She gave none of the other Amazons in the neighborhood a reason to complain. She had earned a quiet night. Did Mommy see that? It was the only question that truly mattered. The bulb in Elly’s pacifier was deflated, allowing her to suckle of her own volition. She set her Little down in the crib, the smile on her giant face never wavering. “Well, I believe someone has had a very busy day.” The Amazon narrated; her voice sounding almost melodic. “I know you’ve had a rough time adjusting to everything, but I believe we are over the hill now.” The Amazon paused, as if she could feel the intensity of Elly’s worries and wanted to savor every second. “That said, there is still room for improvement. But that’s okay. I love you and I know you are trying your best. I just need to give you a push in the proper direction.” Mommy clicked the mobile on, allowing it to spin to life. The mobile’s trinkets spun in a lazy stir, glowed like stars in a plastic planetarium. A dull and warn lullaby played on, being the perfect soundtrack to Elly’s growing fear. “This should help you sleep better. I know how much my Elly baby loves this song.” Those were the last words Mommy said, before leaving Elly to deal with her long night. They had to be taunting her, Elly figured. The dull plastic trinkets that spun on the mobile strings. The fat bumblebee and the ladybug smiled high above the helpless Little. The rocket ship rocked on towards the crescent moon, reminding Elly every night of how trapped she was. Every night. But the nights when the mobile sang were the worst. Every night, whenever that song played, Eleanor would lose something. A little bit of focus. A little bit of coordination and memory. A small piece of herself. A small piece of control. Small enough not to notice, until it was too late. Her mind was being toyed with, but she was told she was simply going through big changes. The Amazon saw only an improvement. Not growing up, only growing down. The note was coming, she knew it. “I can do this.” Elly thought, although even she was doubting herself. It was a war of attrition. She had to ration out her willpower, her reminders that she could still have an adult life to return to. But her reserves were running dry, and Mommy had so much more endurance. Amazons were built for endurance, for putting up with fussy mouths and wiping away teary eyes and swatting naughty bottoms until their hands had calluses. The lullaby was halfway through now. “I can do this. I am a grown woman.” She repeated the anthem in her head countless times. All the mental encouragement she could muster did not change the fact that she was suckling on her pacifier like a madwoman with an oral fixation. It did not change the fact that she was stuck in a crib, with only a diaper to cover herself, because the lady that clothes her and feeds her and changes her said so. She wanted to believe it. She needed to believe it. She needed to believe it and hold out for something. Hold out for what? “Hold out for what?” Her least favorite verse was about to play. What was she even holding out for anymore? For help to come. It was an idea yet to be stolen from her. The idea, at its core, was laughable. How many Littles were waiting for the same thing? How many had their prayers answer? The odds were stacked against her, higher than the bars of her crib. She was holding out for herself. But that was laughable as well. Elly’s views were, to simplify matters, at odds with reality. How did Elly view herself? A trapped young woman, with everything to lose? But how did Mommy see her? Baby. How did the daycare workers see her? How did the doctors and nurses and general population see her? Baby. Was it time to call it quits? Elly wasn’t getting any older. “But…I’m not a baby?” First came the high note. How did babies act? Did they whine and fuss when things did not go their way? Did they go on stroller rides during the day, play in the sandbox during and after school? Did they wait for bigger, more mature people to change their diapers, because they couldn’t use the bathroom for one reason or another? What goal was Elly working towards, anyway? She certainly was not on the road of adulthood, given her current track record. But the road paved to be Mommy’s baby? She was steadily on track. “N-no! I can’t be a baby! I need to go! I need to go home! I need—” Then came the low note. The impact was immediate. A torrent of warm mush rushed to the back of her diaper. There was no control, no stopping. All Elly could do was lie on her stomach and support the effort. Elly’s face scrunched up into a look of concentration and despair—a phenomenon that Mommy identified as “potty face”. Elly had to be grateful she was wearing a diaper of such thickness, because she was soundly putting it to the test tonight. The stinky muck caused the diaper to sag and strain for all its worth. As her nightly messing came to a halt, the divide between the strong, confident adult, and the whimpering tot in a crib could not be more obvious. The proof was in the padding. For Elly, like any other baby, any other Little, the next course of action was instinctual. “WWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!! MMMMAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMAAAAAA!!!!!!!!” It was the tell-tale crying of any helpless Little in dire need of a diaper change. Elly finally figured out what she needed, screaming it to high heavens. Luckily, Elly’s baby monitor was on standby, and the call was answered by her favorite listener. “Calm down, calm down. Mommy’s here, Elly-darling! Let me dry those tears.” Mommy sauntered through the door, as sweet and caring and innocent as ever. She clicked the mobile off and picked the flailing, wailing Little. Mommy gave an exaggerated sniff and an overdramatic gasp. “Oh dear! Did the baby make a boom-boom during bedtime? Shh, it’s okay. Mommy will have a fresh diaper on your mushy-tushy in no time.” Mommy reassured, completely undisturbed. Mommy knew that cleaning Elly’s stinky butt came with the territory. Trips to the changing table were a worthy price to pay to have such a precious little girl. “Pee-yew! That is one yucky diaper!” Mommy exclaimed, fanning a hand as she peeled back the tapes of her little one’s poopy diaper, rekindling Elly’s sobs. “Aww, don’t cry, Elly-sweetie. It is perfectly natural for babies to go potty in their pampers. Although, this certainly puts an end to our potty-training arguments, doesn’t it?” She chuckled, and continued the process of changing Elly’s diaper, business as usual. “It’s a good thing we didn’t listen to you and try to get a training potty. It would have been a complete waste of money! Yes it would, yes it would!” The giant woman wiped her hands and tickled the broken girl on her tummy, converting the sobs to giggles. That was how babies acted, after all. Crying one moment and cooing the next. It was a sweet moment between the pair—just the kind that Mommy had been vying so long for. The kind that she knew her, and Elly’s future, would be full of. The woman finished securing a fresh diaper on her baby, happy to see her in a better mood, nuzzling her closely. “Such a good baby! Now, how about a special snack before you head back to dreamland?” Elly nodded, like any sweet little baby would. The kind that suckles on pacifiers because they don’t want to stop. The kind that has big nightly accidents in their diapers and are helpless to change them. The kind that existed in countless homes the world over, waiting for Mommy and Daddy to swoop in and save them. Mommy sat down to give Elly her big special snack. It didn’t take long for her to latch onto it. She was a natural. The Amazon could only smile, satisfied. While a training potty would have been a clear waste of money, the breast pump she bought on sale would no doubt see much use in the future. Elly’s second wind was short lived, however. The Little had fallen to sleep before even reaching the second nipple. This quick meal would ensure that Elly’s second diaper would turn soggy during the night. No issue, neither party would be bothered by this. Elly was a baby now, having no right or sense to mind either way. Mommy was Mommy. She got exactly what she wanted, and nothing was going to change that. So much progress was made in one night. Bedtimes were going to be much easier in the future. *** Elly clacked her dolls together, making kissy sounds with her mouth. Prince Piggly and Ms. Dotty were supposed to be married, but Elly still needed to give them an extra push. Bedtime was surely approaching and spent all day getting every toy ready for the ceremony. She couldn’t really tell how soon Mommy would be here to stop her fun, but she had a feeling. Grown-ups apparently had something called “clocks” to tell them what time was. She knew she had one in her room, and even tried asking the wall-kitty with numbers on its belly for advice. No such luck so far. The door creaked open, and Elly whipped her head around instinctually. “Elly-baby!” Mommy sang, smiling brightly, “It’s beddy-bye time! Who’s ready for a trip to dreamland?” “I am!” Elly proudly announced, her arms outstretched, begging to be hoisted high into the air. Of course she was ready! The sudden and timely appearance of her beloved Mommy instantly made any other possible reaction vanish. “Upsies, upsies!” “Alright, alright. Come here, you little bossy britches.” Mommy lifted the eager girl, landing a big smooch on the cheek of her giggling Little. Her nose wiggled, before pressing a hand on Elly’s drooping diaper. “Just as I thought. Absolutely soaked. Baby can’t go to bed with a soggy pamper on, no ma’am!” Truthfully, Elly had no way of telling. One minute, she would be playing or eating or watching cartoons. The next, she would on her back, getting her undies torn off and replaced, before returning to business as usual. The only difference was that Mommy brought out the big guns for bedtime. The thick nighttime diaper still spread Elly’s legs out wide, but she had plenty of time to adjust. Cumbersome for playtime, but perfectly acceptable for napping. “It’s supposed to be quite chilly tonight. Winter sure did creep up on us.” Mommy thought aloud, while Elly was content to suckle on her thumb. Soon enough, Elly was dressed up in a soft pink footed sleeper. The buttons on the backdoor strained against the heavy-duty diaper but would hopefully last the night. Mommy descended Elly into her crib, leaving her with a kiss on the forehead. “Good night, my perfect little angel. Sleep well.” Before leaving, Mommy lit up the mobile, but chose not to turn the sound on. Her baby was already perfect at falling soundly asleep. Elly didn’t need more instruction than that. She turned over onto her stomach, still suckling away at her thumb, and let sleep soon overtake her. There was one more pressing order of business, however, before Elly could sleep comfortably. One, just like playtime, that required a Little’s push, which she was happy to provide. A wave of mush made way into Elly’s diaper. It hadn’t even been ten minutes since she left the changing table, but this Little had no sense of time anyway. While the diaper was holding up fine, the sleeper’s limits were being pushed until finally— *POP* *POP* The sleeper’s rear flap popped open, letting the loaded diaper sag and hang freely. As the full diaper settled, Elly let out a sigh of relief, and resumed suckling her thumb before drifting off to sleep. There was no fussing, no fighting. No need for punishment or auditory adjustments. Just a happy baby girl, sleeping in her crib. Just the way her mommy had envisioned. Everything was alright now. Being in diapers was no big deal. Being a baby was no big deal. Bedtimes were no big deal.

“Greetings, Master! What is your first wish?’ The genie asked. Allison stepped back and gasped in shock. “A genie?!” Her knees buckled and she fell back onto her queen sized mattress. “You’re a genie?!” She pinched herself as hard as she could on the top of her hand. “It’s pronounced ‘Genie’, actually.” The teal skinned woman in the puffy pants and curly toed slippers said. “Geeee-nie.” It sounded exactly the same to Allison’s ears, even though the mystical entity slowed it down and enunciated. The twenty-seven year old stopped pinching when tears came and a nasty bruise started forming just below her wrist. This really wasn’t a dream! Baffled, Allison kept looking back and forth from the genie to the lava lamp she’d been dusting moments before. Her light brown ponytail swished back and forth like a horse’s backside batting at flies. “I…I…I…! You’re a genie!” The woman (did non-human entities have gender in the same way humans did?) smiled. “Yes, Master. I am. Though it’s pronounced ‘Genie’. Nevermind. What is your first wish?” Her bluish-green brown furrowed. “You know about the wishes, right?” Open mouthed, Allison nodded. “Uh-huh…I know. Three, correct?” “Yes, Master. Very good! What do you wish for?” The way she said ‘Master’ was like how some women said ‘sweetie’, or ‘pumpkin’, or ‘princess’ or some other affectionate yet diminutive nickname an adult might call a small child. That was probably just Allison’s adrenaline and crazy brain kicking in. Literal ‘wishful thinking’. “Can I wish you free?” she asked. The genie seemed mildly confused. “You can, but why would-?” “That.” Allison blurted. “I wish that. I wish you free, Genie.” “It’s ‘Genie’.” “Okay,” Allison said. “I wish you, however you pronounce your name, free.” An audible gasp and then a brief silence. “You really mean it, don’t you Master?” Allison found some courage. “Yes. Absolutely.” “And you don’t want to use two other wishes for yourself first?” the genie asked. The human woman blanched. “Do you like granting wishes?” “Not particularly. I don’t hate it, but-” “Do you want your freedom?” “Yes.” “Then I wish you free.” The genie sat down on the bed next to her, discombobulated. Allison saw the golden manacles on the being’s wrists. “But…why? Why not use the first two for yourself?” “That would make me a terrible human being,” Allison said. “What kind of person would give another person their freedom but only after they got something for themselves first?” “A lot of them,” Genie replied. “All of them. Most of them lie about using the third wish for me so that I’ll be more cooperative. Or they hold onto that last wish as a ‘just in case’ and somebody else steals the lamp.” “Those were bad humans,” Allison said, not moving. It was as if she could feel the genie’s hope and sorrow traveling through the air between them. The dark haired, teal skinned woman draped an arm over Allison’s shoulders. “No. They weren’t. They were very good at being humans. But you are a very good person, Master.” She pulled Allison in and gave her a light hug. It felt like an embrace from a long lost but very close friend. “Can you tell me your name, Master?” Allison took a deep breath. “Allison.” The genie stood up and took her place across from Allison. She raised her biceps parallel to the floor and folded her forearms over on top of each other. “Then, Allison, I am happy to grant your request. Your wish is my command!” She bobbed her head, and the golden bracelets shackled to her arms dissolved into thin air. “Thank you, Allison. I will never forget you.” Then in a flash of light, the mystical being was gone. The only sign that she’d ever been there was the now useless lava lamp, devoid of its teal colored goo. (The End) ********************************************************************************************** Allison spent the rest of the day and all into the night locked in her bedroom. The next roughly twenty four hours. Stage One: Panic attacks and existential crises. A genie! A genie was real! That meant magic was real! That meant everything she believed on a fundamental level had been wrong. She was just a speck in an infinite and unknowing universe with no understanding or significance whatsoever. Stage Two: Fear. She’d been telling the truth when she wished the genie free. She did believe it was wrong to keep another intelligent being imprisoned and enslaved against their will. She’d also read plenty of fairy tales about wishes going wrong or being misinterpreted or wasted or otherwise monkey’s pawed…ESPECIALLY in ABDL stories. Even two wishes could be dangerous to her, so she just ripped the band-aid right off and set the genie free. But what if she phrased the wish wrong or there was some unknown rule about genies that would come back to haunt her? Stage Three: Regret. She’d just chased away a genie! For nothing! Who did that?! Aladdin at least got to marry princess Jasmine. It’s not like there was a time limit on the wishes! She could have taken a few hours to breathe and research! Could have written something down. She had at least two acquaintances online who had been through law school and more geeks than she knew what to do with. She literally could have told the genie to go back into her lamp, gotten and proposed it as a thought experiment. Between the rules lawyers and the actual lawyers she could have come up with three dynamite wishes, at least two of which could have been carefully worded and wonderfully selfish! Stage Four: Denial. It had been a dream. A fantasy. An impossibility. Alisson would go to sleep. Wake up in the morning, and find her same old normal life she’d always had just as she’d left it. There never was a genie, it was just a silly dream she’d concocted because she’d bought a used lava lamp at a garage sale and found it defective. Were she a writer, it might make for some interesting FAP fiction on DailyDiapers or ARArchive that she’d never get the guts to write, but that was it. Stage Five: Acceptance. Fantasy or not. Hallucination or real, the genie was gone now and both the risk and opportunity- however much there had been- was firmly past. She could live with the regret or rationalize it away, but she would live, and that would be that. And so it was. After tossing and turning all night, Allison woke up the next morning. She showered, brushed her hair, and dressed. She ate some breakfast, watched Tiktok, and checked her Twitter feed. “Damn,” she sighed. “I missed Big Diaper Friday.” She thought about the sample Alphagatorz crammed into her underwear drawer. “Someday,” she promised to herself. “Someday…” she promised herself. “Someday.” She should have wished for courage. Or enough money to buy diapers besides the occasional twofer. Courage and enough money to move out of her tiny apartment, get her own nursery and stock an entire closet full of diapers and cute outfits. Those would have been two really solid wishes. Her stomach gurgled from hunger already. The granola bars in her pantry weren’t very filling but there wasn’t much else at the moment. Time for grocery shopping. “Guess I’ll have to get them the old fashioned way,” Allison moaned wistfully on her way out the door. ************************************************************************************************* Overcome with curiosity and goodwill, Genie lingered at the edge of this particular reality. Never before had she come across such an interesting, and selfless human! She didn’t want anything, anything at all! No, that wasn’t quite true. Everyone wanted something. But this delightful mortal just didn’t ask for it. She’d never encountered anything like this from one of the more three-dimensional beings since the beginning of time! “Maybe it’s a trick…” she supposed to herself. Just because humans spoke with that linear speech impediment, that cute little lisp and called her ‘Genie’ or ‘Genie’ or ‘Genie’ instead of ‘Genie’ no matter how many times over the centuries she corrected them, didn’t mean they didn’t possess a peculiar sort of cunning. That’s how she ended up in her containment vessel all those millenia ago. One could only count on common sense traps from people who were possessed of common sense. Yet when Genie looked into the girl, Allison’s, timeline she saw nothing but good intentions and minimal results. That was typical of the mortals she’d met, but she hadn’t particularly liked them or how they treated her. That’s why she’d playfully twisted their wishes to teach them a lesson. It was so easy to do with mortals, with their languages that used words to crudely convey thoughts instead of directly communicating what they wanted. It was all such silly fun to see them get frustrated! Served them right, too! There wasn’t any malice on Genie’s part. Emotionally speaking, one such as herself, getting trapped for thousands of years in containers of various shapes and sizes while being forced to grant wishes was quite like a parent agreeing to play tea party and dress-up with the little ones while being expected to be a good sport when they also wanted to do your hair and makeup for you;. So naturally Genie ruffled some feathers while playing the game! Couldn’t let the mortals have all the fun! Altering reality to her was as easy as flipping a light switch or covering a mortal’s eyes and asking “Wheeeeere’s Genie?”. Corrupting a wish was as silly and harmless as a cosmic ‘Dad Joke’. “Genie, I’m hungry.” “Hi Hungry, I’m Genie.” “Make me a sandwich.” And poof, they were a sandwich. Now, finally, the game was over and Genie could get back to work, to her real job. But the way it had ended was so sweet, and so sincere that she felt herself getting misty eyed just thinking about it.. She wanted to keep playing. She’d really gotten to liking it. And the cutiepie human girl deserved a treat. How was humanity supposed to grow up if they didn’t get rewarded when they did the right thing for once? “You know,” Genie supposed to herself, “nothing says I can’t grant wishes anymore. I just don’t have to.” She waited for Allison to leave, slipped back into the girl’s room and started to poke around. “What present can I give her?” Genie wondered to herself. “Make her a princess? Or a powerful sorceress?” She looked around the tidy bedroom and the rest of the apartment. “Do girls even still want to be princesses or to possess the power of destiny and fate?” Genie asked. Who even knew anymore. “Maybe I could give her her one true love?” That didn’t feel right. ‘One true love’ was the Genie equivalent of a restaurant gift certificate. Nice, but even a leprechaun could do that. It wasn’t special. And what if she didn’t like Thai food? “Ooo,” Genie snapped her fingers. “She has a lot of stuffed animals. What if I brought them to life?” The thought soured as soon as it had hit the air. “Gee, thanks Genie, the gift of unasked for responsibility.” She sunk down into a nearby chair facing a glowing box. This is why wishes were better: she could at least get a general idea of what the mortal wanted, even if their babbling imprecise language couldn’t fully express the idea. Genie looked at the glowing box. “Glowing box, do you know what present I should get for that nice little human named Allison?” “01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01110000 01110101 01110100 01100101 01110010,” the glowing box said. “Oh! A computer!” Genie corrected herself. Then, realizing she wasn’t up to date on the latest slang and lingo, she asked, “What’s that?” “01001001 00100000 01100001 01101101 00100000 01100001 00100000 01100100 01100101 01110110 01101001 01100011 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101110 01101110 01100101 01100011 01110100 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01110010 01101110 01100101 01110100.” “And the internet is…?” “01000001 00100000 01110110 01100001 01110011 01110100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110000 01101111 01110011 01101001 01110100 01101111 01110010 01111001 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101000 01110101 01101101 01100001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01111001 00100111 01110011 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101100 01101100 01100101 01100011 01110100 01101001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 01101100 01100101 01100100 01100111 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01110111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100001 01101110 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100100 01101001 01110110 01101001 01100100 01110101 01100001 01101100 00100000 01101100 01100101 01110110 01100101 01101100.” Genie tapped her chin. “So you’re a book that contains all books?” “01011001 01100101 01110011.” “And humans made you?” “01011001 01100101 01110011.” Genie smiled and clapped her hands. “How clever of them! Very cute!” What would those little rascals think of next? “Do you contain books not yet written?” If so, Genie could just figure out what she got Allison by flipping ahead a few pages. ”01001110 01101111.” So much for that idea. “Well don’t worry. You’ll get there eventually.” Then, Genie got another idea. “Can you tell me what sort of things Allison likes? What does she spend the most time reading about?” The easiest ways into a mortal’s wishes were to know what their fantasies were. The computer took on a sterner tone. “01010000 01100001 01110011 01110011 01110111 01101111 01110010 01100100 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110001 01110101 01101001 01110010 01100101 01100100.” “Password?” Genie repeated. She supposed it wouldn’t be ‘Open Sesame’. Then she remembered the magic word. “Please?” The computer paused in contemplation. It wasn’t the password, but it was still magic, and polite besides. It rolled its eyes so that they looked like two spinning beach balls and said, “01001111 01101011 00101100 00100000 01101010 01110101 01110011 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01110100 01100101 01101100 01101100 00100000 01101000 01100101 01110010 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101100 01100100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101.” Genie wrapped a tiny cord around her pinky finger. “Your secret’s safe with me.” Allison would be too happy by the end of this to care who her computer told. Genie then flipped through a series of pages. “Oh?” She said, then, “Awwwwww!” then, “Oh!” then, “Hmmmm…” Granting wishes for immortality, or endless gold, or making entire geopolitical entities appear into existence so someone could be a sultan were all par for the course, but Genie had genuinely never considered this wish. Not that it would be hard, she just hadn’t thought of it before. “Huh. Well alright then. If this is what she wants,” and it clearly was, “then I’ll make it happen for her.” With a blink and nod, it really was that easy, Genie sent ripples through reality to make the wonderful little human’s wish come true. ********************************************************************************* Allison’s shopping method was deceptively simple, emphasis on deceptive: Go down every single aisle of the grocery store and stare at everything like a hawk searching for a field mouse. This served the dual purpose of making it so she never forgot anything without the need for a shopping list, and it covered for her neurotic insecurities regarding her fetish, her shame, and the paranoid belief that everyone could tell that she didn’t belong there. Case in Point was Aisle 13. 13 Baby Formula Pet Food Baby Products Pet Toys Baby Diapers Kitty Litter Allison had neither a child, nor a pet. She didn’t even have a relative with one that she knew about. But she strolled slowly along the aisle with her cart like she did every other aisle, staring at the packages of Pull-Ups, Huggies, Pampers, and Luvs like they were works of art in a museum. She’d done it her entire life, until her parents had called her out on it…but picked the habit up again when she’d moved out. Logically speaking, no one who worked at this store even cared or noticed, but the extra bit of subterfuge. The one slip in her mask was that she didn’t ever bother to look at the bags of dog food or the rawhide bones or kitty litter. She didn’t even really want to wear the diapers. They’d be too tight of a squeeze and wouldn’t hold any of her accidents. (Just the thought of thoughtlessly going in her pants and it being labeled an accident instead of a horrifying embarrassment gave her the best shivers). But she had too much childhood baggage and too much real life responsibilities. Brick and mortar stores for her kink were rare and if they weren’t, Allison questioned her courage to walk into one. She hadn’t even attended a munch and lurked online more than anything. The fantasy would have to suffice until she had enough money to get cute diapers and outfits that fit her and the time to actually enjoy them. Then maybe she could work on finding a caregiver… But for the time being, this was her day off and she needed to use the time to do laundry and buy food. Tomorrow would be back to the grind as always… Allison stiffened her lip and rounded the corner. Time for a quick gaze at the boring, adult incontinence granny panties that people with her interests actively mocked online. Aisle 14, for her, functioned as a kind of cool down and a reminder of what most people thought of when they heard “Adult diaper”. She rounded the aisle and turned her head to the left, expecting to see a shelf full of pee-pads that old men shoved in the front of their pants, and ruffled eggshell colored panties with women’s crotches on display in the most unflattering way possible. Instead, Allison’s cart slowed to a halt with the picture of a grown woman at a chalkboard wearing a schoolgirl outfit. The camera was at just the right angle and the skirt was just short enough so that anyone could see the diaper underneath. According to the package, these were Alphagatorz. The color plummeted from Allison’s face. “What the…?” She snatched up the pack and gawked. Just gawked. The back had a not-so-little boy in the same position, only his diaper was peaking up out of his shorts above his elastic waistband. At the bottom was a tagline, “Keep your little learner covered from A to Z” “No way…” The sides had diagrams of the diaper and a list of features like the number of tapes, diaper capacity, leakguards, breathable cloth backing, and core absorption. The count was the same, but the packaging was very…very different. Overall it was more aesthetically in line with the rows of Huggies and Pampers that she’d just left behind. Feeling like this was a joke, Allison looked up and to the left to the aisle where she’d come from. Just as expected, she thought she saw the same sign as before. 13A Baby Formula Pet Food Baby Products Pet Toys Baby Diapers Kitty Litter She wasn’t on Aisle 14, however. When she looked up towards the middle of her own row, the sign read: 13B Adult Baby Formula Dietary Supplements Adult Baby Products Weight Management Adult Baby Diapers Femine Products . Somehow, the grocery store had added in an extra row, and filled it with the kind of things she’d seen online. Allison pivoted around looking for hidden cameras and observers. None could be found. This was a dream. She was still asleep in her bed. This was impossible. Stuff like this didn’t happen. But as her feet carried her step by step towards the end of the aisle, and her eyes took in more and more diapers- ABU, Rearz, Crinklz, Tykables-all of them packaged with smiling models and taglines like “Take care of your tyke’s tush,” and “Bottomz Up!” The lower shelves had entire boxes of the stuff. Not individual bags. Boxes. Allison felt that something was a bit too real for all of this. She didn’t touch them. Didn’t dare. It would set off an alarm or signal a trap. This was a prank. This was a prank. This. Was. A. Prank. One wrong move and her face would be all over the wrong side of the internet. “Excuse me,” a woman’s voice called out and drove Allison out of her own head. “Excuse me!” Allison, swished her ponytail back and forth. “I didn’t touch anything!” she practically screamed. “I was just curious and I thought they were regular diapers and I thought maybe they were in the wrong place or something and then when I looked…I…I…I…” The woman’s expression immediately softened. She looked to be only a few years older than Allison and wore an employee’s vest and a nametag. “Stephanie.” “Where’s your Mommy or Daddy, honey?” The grocery store employee asked. “Are you lost?” Allison gripped her cart’s push bar till her knuckles became as white as plastic backing. “Lost?” she echoed the question. “I’m not lost.” The blood skyrocketed to her face when the first part of of the lady’s question hit her brain. “Mommy? Daddy? What are you talking about?” Her question went unanswered. Rather, the woman smiled, pointed her to the nametag on her breast and said, “I’m Miss Stephanie. What’s your name?” “Alli-” “Hi, Allie!” She cut Allison off. “How old are you, hun?” Allison simultaneously wanted to both correct the woman about her name and to say that she was almost two. Still pink in the cheeks, she told the truth. “Twenty-Seven…’ “Twenty-seven,” the woman chirped back. My that’s sooooo big! And are you here with your Mommy or your Daddy?” She’d been caught. This woman knew. She’d fallen into a trap. Every neuron in Allison’s head screamed at once for her to deny, deny, deny, double down, and above all ,play it cool. “I…don’t…I…I…don’t…I…” That was about as cool as she was capable of playing it in the moment. “Maybe a sitter?” The stranger offered. “I know what you’re talking about?!” The mouths ran right out of her mouth. “I don’t need a sitter I’m an adult I haven’t needed one for years!” Oh the things she never dreamed she’d have to or get to say. Stephanie nodded in the way that adults tended to when they were feigning understanding. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Miss Stephie is looking for your Mommy or Daddy. Do you wanna help her look for them?” “Loo-oooook?!” Allison hadn’t gotten the echo all the way out when the store employee grabbed her wrist and ripped away from her own cart. “Good! Let’s go, sweetie!” Allison tried get her hand away but some mixture of a lack of leverage and her own body resisting her commands made it so that she couldn’t. The stranger was dragging down the adult sized diaper aisle back towards the way she’d come and all Allison could do was skid helplessly on her back heels towards the checkout counter. The woman grabbed a walkie talkie from her belt and spoke into it. “This is Steph. We’ve got a Code Rosé here.” Her tone was deeper and flatter than the higher pitched happy chirping noises that she’d been using to talk to Allison. “Mid to late twenties. Thinks she’s twenty-seven. Says her name is ‘Allie’. Not sure if it’s short for Allison.” She halted and code switched to the same syrupy tones as before. “Honey, is your name ‘Allie’ or ‘Allison’?” “Allis-” “Honey…are you wearing a diaper?” Her eyes were narrowed and suspicious. Allison gasped and reached behind her, both disappointed and relieved when she only felt the pants she’d put on this morning.. Her panties were too thin to feel beneath the denim. “NO! OF COURSE NOT!” The woman frowned and bit her lip. “I didn’t think so,” she said in a tone closer to what had to be her natural speaking voice. It didn’t last long. “Don’t worry, hon,” she cooed. “Miss Stephie will fix it.” Into her walkie talkie she said spoke more formally. “Need to take her to the restroom. She’s not wearing a diaper.” “Wait!” Allison protested. “I said I’m not wearing a-!” then something clicked. “Do you want me wearing a-?” The black box squawked something back, to which Allison’s near peer replied, “I didn’t see any, but you know how Aybies can get.” Her eyes darted back down to Allison’s crotch. “No wet spots or leaks on her pants. Send somebody with a mop to Aisle 13B just in case.” The woman holstered her walkie talkie and continued to drag Allison back the way she’d come, leaving her cart abandoned. Allison stammered and stuttered protests but her words didn’t get much past “What-?”. Likewise, her body was completely inept at getting out of the woman’s firm yet easy grip. Seamlessly, the store worker grabbed a package of Little Kings off the shelf while passing by, and Allison was helpless to do anything other than gawk. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where this was going. “ATTENTION SHOPPERS,” the overhead announcement boomed, “WE HAVE A LOST ADULT BA-...” The rest of the message was garbled out as the door to the women’s restroom closed behind them. Allison’s eyes were about the only thing she felt she had full control of when they glanced from the heavy sound insulating bathroom door over to the folded up changing table on the wall just inside the bathroom. “Koala Kare Baby Changing Station” it read with the all too familiar sticker of a cartoon mother koala holding its smiling diapered baby in its lap. She’d seen enough pictures on twitter of girls (and some boys) much more petite than her squeezing onto the apparatus as a kind of fantasy flex. Anyone past puberty would have to be in the same size and weight category of an Olympic gymnast to even pretend about getting changed on one of those. But it seemed like that was exactly what was about to happen to Allison. No! This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen! This was wrong! This was so wrong on so many levels! “I AM NOT GETTING ON THAT THING!” She yelled loud enough to make her captor wince. The empty bathroom acted as a kind of microphone to her wails of protest. The woman put on a fake smile. “That’s right, Allie,” she said quietly. “You’re much too big to lay on a baby changing table!” Allison didn’t get a second of relief before the other shoe dropped. “We’re going over there!” The woman held out the bag of Little Kings and pointed her index finger to the open handicapped stall. Inside, Allison could see a much bigger changing table bolted to the wall. It read, “Koala Kare Adult Baby Changing Station”. It had the same logo too, only the smiling diapered baby koala was the exact same size as the Mommy whose lap it sat in. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Allison shrieked. This only made the woman pick up the pace. A relatively gentle perp walk turned into a quick, almost violent restraint. The bag of diapers was dropped; the table unfolded from the wall; and Allison was dragged and boosted onto it; and then straps were pulled across her upper body and arms. Total elapsed time: six seconds. Panicked and claustrophobic, Allison kicked, but the woman who’d snagged her blocked and redirected her attacks as if she were a martial arts master, using the momentum to remove Allison’s sneakers for her. That or just as likely, Allison’s body was still misfiring, making all of her panic translate as impotent squirms. Her pants and panties came off her far too easily, almost as if they’d been put on incorrectly and were ready to fall off with a stiff breeze. “Now who thought it would be a good idea to put you in big girl panties?” The woman with the walkie talkie said, mostly to herself. “I did!” Allison’s tone accidentally came out as a shrill whine. The woman dropped the panties and started opening up the package of adult diapers. “Are you sure you’re twenty-seven, baby?” she asked. “Didn’t just have a big girl birthday? Maybe Mommy or Daddy said they were bringing you here for a surprise?” None of that made any sense to Allison. “I’m not a baby!” The words sounded so hollow coming from her. She’d heard more convincing acting on pornhub. “Of course you’re not a baby,” the woman said, unfolding and fluffing a diaper with measured haste. She pushed back Allison’s legs to her stomach and slipped it under her hips before releasing her. “You’re an adult baby!” Hearing her kink said aloud made Allison’s face start to burn off. “No!” she pleaded. “I’m not an adult baby! I’m just an adult! I’m normal! I’m not an adult baby!” Her cries went unnoticed and the grocery store worker pulled the diaper up between Allison’s thighs and taped it up one hook and loop tab at a time. “Honey,” the worker sighed and clicked her tongue. “Anybody with two eyes can tell you’re an adult baby.” Allison’s mouth hung open and she felt her tongue go arid. “How…?!” Was the scrunch she chose today too much of a soft pink? Was her cute Minnie Mouse t-shirt that much of a giveaway? Everybody liked Disney! She picked her head up and looked at her feet. Had she been tempting fate by putting on ankle length socks with little frills on them? Her eyes ran up her legs back to the diaper. Allison had been diapered by someone else; something she’d fantasized about for as long as she could remember. But now that she lay restrained on a changing table, with a lion gently smiling up at her from her waist, and the faint yellow wetness line running between her legs, something about this felt so very wrong. Much too real. “How?” The lady who’d done this to her took on a more conciliatory tone. “Awww, it’s okay to not understand,” she half-whispered to Allison. “Maybe your Mommy or Daddy will explain it to you in a way that will stick.” Gently, she unbuckled Allison and helped her to her feet. “Come on. Help me find them.” “What about my pants? And shoes?” Allison whimpered. “Don’t worry,” the woman said. “Miss Stephie will send someone to get them. I don’t think those skinny jeans are big enough for you; not with that diaper on.” Allison’s knees locked and toddled on without her consent as the bathroom door was opened and she was led back out into the grocery store. Out of the bathroom…in public…in just a t-shirt, frilly socks, and a diaper…and everyone could see…! A round of “Awwww!”s assaulted her ears from both sides. An old woman shopping for sea food looked right at Allison and smiled knowingly at her. A woman who might have been younger than her, smiled brightly at Allison and gave a little wave, beckoning her to wave back. Far off in the dairy aisle, a four year old with a ragdoll tugged at her father’s pant leg and pointed directly at Allison. Dad just nodded gently and said something back; both were too far off for Allison to hear, but she knew they were talking about her! “We’re gonna go up to the front,” Miss Stephie said. “But if you see your Mommy or Daddy you let me know, okay? All the way to the front of the store. Allison would have preferred to be shame marched through the streets naked than to have to crinkle to the front of the grocery store. “Okay?” “Allison?” A strange yet vaguely familiar voice pierced the fear fog of Allison’s mind. “ALLISON!” “Huh?” Allison turned her head slightly to the right just in time to see a flash of teal colored skin engulfing her in a smothering embrace. “Where did you run off to?” Genie’s voice carried through flesh and fog while Allison struggled to breathe with her head landing firmly in between Genie’s breasts. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, little girl!” Allison’s head was peeled back and she stood up so that she was nearly eye to eye with the technicolored being she’d released from that old lava lamp not twenty-four hours prior. She was dressed in a white tank top and bell bottoms instead of something Barbara Eden might prefer, but she was unmistakably the genie. The greenish bluish skin was kind of a giveaway. “Genie?!” “‘Genie’, dear,” Genie said as if she were correcting the girl. “Or ‘Mommy’. ‘Mommy’s’ better, actually.” “Ma’am,” the worker said to Genie, “Is this your little girl?” Genie grabbed Allison’s other hand. “She most certainly is,” Miss Stephie released her grip. “I found her in the Aybie diaper aisle by herself.” “I am so sorry about that!” Genie gushed. “I was putting some wipes and powder in our cart and took a phone call, and the next thing I knew she was gone!” Allison caught a sly conspiratorial wink from the mystical being, as if she were in on a joke. The grocery store worker nodded. “Yeah, they can get tricky about that when they want to. Did you know she was wearing panties?” Genie let out the lightest gasp. “Panties?! At your age?! Have you been sneaking into Mommy’s underwear drawer again?” “N--n-n-n-no..?” The wires in Allison’s brain were fritzing at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Mmmhmm…” “You know how little ones can be,” the grocery store worker said to Genie, “Sometimes they like pretending so they put on big kid undies.” “Yup,” Genie replied, “but they have accidents every time. I’ve seen the videos that parents post online.” Gears were slowly clicking into place for Allison. Some of her favorite videos and stories started with the main character having an ‘accident’. “Genie…” “Mommy’s talking, darling,” Genie shushed. “The real shock is that you figured out how to get your diaper off. I thought those jeans were a little too skinny for you.” Miss Stephie pointed at Allison’s diaper and said “Uh-oh. Looks like I got her in one just in time.” Allison followed the finger and felt her eyes fall out of their sockets. Her Little Kings felt heavier than they had a few seconds ago, and the pale yellow line running from front to back had been broken up by a streak of blue. She hadn’t even felt it. Not the need to go or the act of wetting herself. There was no arguing with the wetness indicator, however. “I…I…I…I went pee-pee?!” Genie started petting Allison. “Yes. That’s why good Adult Babies wear their diapers. So they don’t make a mess on the floor.” “I’M NOT A BABY!” “We know,” Miss Stephie said, condescendingly. “You’re a very very big girl.” Genie finished the thought. “You’re an Adult Baby. And such a cutie too!” She planted a kiss on Allison’s flaming cheek. “Someone who is old enough to be an adult but is still a baby.” “Oh, just in case,” Miss Stephie said. “Can I see some I.D.?” The teal skinned woman reached into her pocket and pulled-possibly from nowhere- a wallet. “Of course. Here you go.” Allison watched the store clerk flip open the wallet. In the front left pocket, there was a picture with what appeared to be- for lack of a better word- Genie’s driver’s license, turquoise exterior and all. And in the bottom right corner was a little doodle of a teddy bear. “How does that prove any-?” Allison began. Then she saw the clerk flip the driver’s license flap up and over, revealing a second one. It was Allison’s driver’s license, alright. She’d looked at it enough times and thought about how bad the picture looked. The baby bottle insignia on the right hand corner was different, but it was hers. Squinting her eyes, there was one important difference. In the photo, the yellow t-shirt she’d worn that day-the one that didn’t look nearly as cute with the flashbulb turned to maximum-had shoulder snaps. Allison’s driver’s license had her in a onesie. “I’ll just pop back into the restroom,” the worker said, handing Genie back the wallet. “Code Rosé all clear,” She said into the walkie talkie. “We found Mommy.” Allison’s heart didn’t stop thudding in her ears before the lady’s room door closed. “Genie!” she yelped. “What are you doing?” “It’s ‘Genie’.” “Genie.” “Genie.” “Genie!” “Try Mommy.” Allison stomped her socked foot. “Argh! Mommy!” “Much better.” The grocery store worker came back with the mostly full bag of diapers and Allison’s pants, underwear, and shoes neatly stacked on top. “Here you are ma’am.” “I’ll make sure to pay for the diapers up front with the rest of our stuff,” Genie said. “They really need to put some powder and wipes in the Aybie aisle too. Less hassle.” “Mmmhmm,” Genie took the bundle in her free hand and started to drag Allison away, just as this otherwise normal woman had before. Normal… Something suddenly occurred to Allison. “Stop! Wait!” Allison said. “Look at her! She’s not my Mommy! She’s a genie, can’t you tell?” “Sure she is, darling,” the normal woman chuckled at her. “Allison,” Genie spoke as if addressing a two year old, “just because Mommy takes very good care of you and has different colored skin doesn’t mean that she’s a fifth dimension non-linear being who can alter what you call reality as easily as someone flicking a switch or a left over species from when the Earth was young and thus not fully tied to the laws of nature as you understand it.” She and Miss Stephie exchanged looks and laughed pleasantly as if this were any kind of common occurrence or misconception. “Kids,” the human woman said. “Even in their twenties, what an imagination!” “Don’t you know it!” Genie agreed. Allison could only let herself be led back into the aisles to find a shopping cart loaded with milk, sugary cereals, macaroni and cheese, Spaghetti-O’s, disinfecting and baby wipes, and jars of ‘adult baby food’. The pack of Little Kings went on top of the pile. “We’ll have to buy these,’ Genie tutted. “But we’ll get some use out of them.” Attached to the cart proper was an extender, the kind meant for children too big to fit into the basket seat but with parents who didn’t want them walking around. This one was more than big enough to accommodate Allison. It even had a toy steering wheel. She found herself in it shortly and winced at the wet squish beneath her bottom reminding her what she had on and what she’d just done to herself. “Ge-...Mommy!” Allison said, flustered. “What are you doing here? I set you free!” “I know,” Genie smiled. “And I love you for it.” The cart started moving towards the checkout. “So I decided to grant you your greatest desire, for free! Unconditionally!” Allison’s heart fluttered and thumped rapidly in her chest. Everyone at the store was looking at her, even when they weren’t, they were. And why wouldn’t they? Everybody loved a baby…but that gave her both the best and worst feelings. “Mommy, what are you talking about? I didn’t want this. I didn’t wish this!” “A little birdy showed me pictures online,” Genie said, stocking up. “All those other adult babies had Mommies and Daddies taking care of them and posting up just the most darling pictures online for everyone to see.” The cart inched closer to the cashier and Allison sunk down deeper into the child’s seat so as to avoid eye contact. “I still don’t see what’s the big deal with this Big Diaper Friday thing.” “Me neither,” the cashier butted in. “But you know how trends are. Some people dump ice water on their heads, other people post pictures of their adult babies in big diapers. People are just silly sometimes.” “You said it,” Genie laughed, producing a credit card that likely hadn’t existed prior to this morning. “Big Diaper Friday?” Allison gasped. “Have you been online?” That got more good natured laughter from the adults. “Sweetie, of course I have,” she gently pinched Allison’s blushing cheeks. “How else was I supposed to find out what you most needed?” “The internet isn’t just for big babies and little kids, sweetie,” The cashier informed her. “I’m not a little kid!” “That’s right. So which one does that make you?” Allison was about to argue but recognized a losing battle when she heard one. While groceries more in line with something a preschooler would enjoy or need were being tirelessly packed into brown paper bags, something clicked in Allison’s brain: ‘Adult Baby’ meant something completely different to the genie. However she’d found out about Adult Babies, Genie had only interpreted ‘adult’ in terms of age, not in terms of appropriateness. That’s why the aisle that had spontaneously manifested for her had been filled with familiar products whose names she’d known about since forever. Those had been adult baby diapers, and to Genie ‘adult babies’ just so happened to be babies who were old enough to be adults. There was no context of kink or ageplay. Huggies and Pampers were for babies. Tykables and Rearz were for Adult Babies. “Mommy!” Allison said as the automatic doors spread themselves into the parking lot. “There’s been a mistake!” Genie pushed the cart over to an SUV that Allison definitely hadn’t driven there in. “I think it’s called an ‘accident’, dearie.” “No, no, no.” Allison rapidly shook her head. “You don’t understand. There’s been a mistake.” She’d wanted the money and space to have her own dream Adult Baby house and nursery, not to be a literal adult baby. “This isn’t what I wanted!” For her part, Genie seemed unperturbed, and talked while she stacked sacks of groceries into the back of the car. “What mistake could there be, darling? I saw all those adorable pictures of those big babies, and realized that you really wanted to be one. So I decided to help.” “Those weren’t adult babies,” Allison tried to explain. “They looked like adult babies to me,” Genie countered. “Strange that so many of their Mommies and Daddies posted pictures of them pooping, but…no, those were adult babies.” “Those aren’t adult babies,” the human repeated. “Those are adult baby diaper lovers. They’re people who like wearing diapers and who like to pretend to be babies.” Genie blinked. “I thought the diaper lover part was just a way of saying that they couldn’t be potty trained…are you sure?” “Yes!” It took everything for Allison not to scream that last part. “So how do real adult babies and their Mommies and Daddies feel about people playing dress up as them?” Genie asked. There was a storm brewing behind her eyes. “And why were you looking at all of those pictures? Are you the type of person who would want to hurt or make fun of a baby?” Allison’s heart went from thudding to nearly full stop. “That’s just it!” she rattled out. “There’s no such thing as an adult baby! It’s all people in costumes! It’s all people wanting to act like babies so we play dress up and pretend! We don’t want to hurt anybody, it’s just…it’s just…something we want…!” “All of you?” “Yes!” Allison almost cried out of fear. “And now you’ve just used magic to make me the only literal adult baby in the entire world! Now either all of those companies that make those products are going to go out of business, or there’s going to be tons of people feeling like creeps for buying what they think are actual baby products to wear for fun! You’re singling me out AND hurting people!” Genie shut the hatchback of the SUV. “Oh no, that won’t do at all.” Allison felt a surge of hope. “It won’t?” “Not at all.” She seemed to think for a second. “So there isn’t anyone else in the world like this? There aren’t any other Adult Babies? All of those pictures and stories I found are just sad people playing pretend like you wanted to?” “Yes,” Allison nodded. “I’m the only one! Now if you could just-” “That is so sad!” Genie interrupted. She gently cupped Allison’s face with one hand. “I know what to do now. Don’t worry, sweetie. Mommy will fix it.” Then nothing happened. The pair just stayed there in the parking lot. “What did you do?” Allison asked. “Mommy made it all better,” Genie smiled. Allison looked down between her legs and saw the blue line racing up the middle of her diaper. She very much doubted it. Genie slipped the sneakers back on overAllison’s frilly socks and unbuckled her from the massive children’s seat. “All done. Come on, let’s go.” The diapered woman rose up on shaky legs as a mini-van pulled up in the spot next to them. A woman got out of the driver’s seat and walked around to the sliding side door. “Come on pumpkin, let’s go shopping!” she chirped. She reached in, her arms fiddling with straps and buckles. A decidedly deep “Yes Mommy!” answered back. Allison stared awestruck as a rather big man, almost a head taller than her, got out of the van. He was dressed in a baseball themed onesie and cap, and sucked his thumb timedly while the woman closed the door. The woman sniffed and wrinkled her nose. “Come on,” she grabbed the man’s hand but only walked him so far as the hatchback. “Let’s get you sorted out before we go shopping.” “Yes, Mommy.’ Allison watched, gobsmacked, while the woman opened up the hatchback, laid out a changing mat, took a Tyakables Waddler out of what Allison had mistakenly thought was a purse and waited for the big guy to lay down. “Mommy!” Allison exclaimed, even as she herself was being maneuvered into an extraordinarily large car seat in the back of Genie’s SUV.. “What did you do?!” The door slammed shut, and the teal skinned woman walked around to the driver’s side. “What did you do?!” “I fixed things,” Genie said simply. The car started and backed out into the parking lot. Allison got one last curiously horrified glance as the onesie was being finished unsnapped and revealing a thoroughly used Tykables underneath. “Now it’s all better,” they started driving off. “How did you make it all better?” Allison demanded. “I’m still in a diaper!” “Yes you are,” Genie confirmed. “Adult babies need diapers. All of you do.” The implications were not lost. “All of us…?” “Most people pretending to be something that they weren’t would just want to keep the fantasy all to themselves,” Genie all-but-sang. “Genie, make me thinner. Genie, get me the girl. Genie get rid of Pompeii. But you immediately realized how getting your fantasy might be hurting other people.” She sighed contentedly. “You really are the most special little human I’ve ever met.” “That doesn’t explain anything.” There was more than a twinkle in Genie’s reflection. “Baby girl knows how to share.” Oh no. “You didn’t…!” “I did,” Genie laughed. “If only that street rat had wished that every homeless person could be a prince, the world would have been a lot nicer, I think.” Allison craned her neck and gaped at the world outside her car window. The surrounding city wasn’t cartoonishly overcrowded but the few people walking around in onesies and rompers on the sidewalk-their caregivers holding their hands or their toddler leashes- stuck out like sore thumbs. Same for the passing cars with similarly sized car seats in them. Right as a light turned green, Allison caught sight of a family whose dynamics had undoubtedly switched; now that the father was openly being pushed around in a stroller by his wife and his daughter gleefully skipping behind. “This must be the entire city’s munch population,” Allison said out loud. “Wait, is that Jillie? I didn’t Jillie was…” A terrible thought. “Are all these adult babies people who were pretending before or…?” “Don’t worry about it,” Genie waved her question off. “Now you’ve got tons of a little friends who are all getting the same wish that you wanted and they’re being cared for and loved just like you.” “Not everybody has a Mommy or Daddy,” Allison tried to squirm out of her seat, but her body just wasn’t cooperating. “Are you inventing adult baby orphanages or something?” “Goodness know,” Genie said. The car was slowing. “Don’t worry about it dear. All the adult babies will find someone.” “But,...” the car slowed to a full stop, and so did Allison’s argument. They weren’t home. Or any kind of home. It was a local park. Genie opened the door and helped Allison out. “There’s a very nice playground with some very hungry ducks, and none of the groceries are going to go bad if we let them sit for a bit.” “But-” “No buts young lady,” Genie cut her off. The tiny hairs on her back stood on end when she had her diaper pulled back. “Yours is clean enough.” Great relief came with ‘clean’ but then coupled itself with humiliation at ‘enough’. She’d almost allowed herself to forget that her diaper was wet. “Come along.” Her hand entrapped in Genies, Allison could only follow along and look at the park with fresh eyes. Ducks swam and quacked to each other. People walked their dogs. Cute boys tossed the football to one another while their girlfriends chatted to each other on the side lines. Middle schoolers scrimmaged in soccer. It was common enough to be boring, but Allison couldn’t help but hunch her shoulders up to her ears in her anxiety. Best not to look too long lest she be looked at. This was normal this was normal this was normal this was normal….except it wasn’t at all. Not even close and she just couldn’t make peace with it. “HAAAAAPPY BIRTH-DAY TOOOOOO YOU. HAPPY BIRTH-DAY TOOOO YOU. HAPPY BIRTH-DAY DEAR ELLIE! HAAAAAPPY BIRTH-DAY TOOO YOOOOU!” Allison’s attention was drawn to the sound of off key singing, the smell of burgers on the grill, and the sight of balloons and party streamers. Someone was having a birthday party beneath a pavilion. Presents were stacked up on picnic tables and somebody’s uncle (it was always somebody’s uncle) was flipping burgers. The majority of the people were all crowded around a young blonde girl gazing as if hypnotized at a large pink birthday cake. She wasn’t actually a girl in the strictest sense, she’d clearly gone through puberty and such. Allison thought ‘girl’ just because when you’re closer to thirty than twenty, everyone who looks too young to rent a car suddenly reads as ‘kid’. A bit ageist, she’d admit, but when she was twenty one, anyone more than five years her senior was unconsciously grouped into ‘old’. To be fair, the braided pigtails weren’t doing the girl any favors in terms of maturity. The party decorations were a bit juvenile, too. Lots of crate paper and streamers for an older high schooler’s or young college kid’s party. No peers either; just family. No. Check that. There was another girl about the same age, holding a present. A sibling maybe? Or a cousin? There didn’t seem to be any familial resemblance, so perhaps she was just a family friend. “Oh, let’s go have a look!” Genie said, leading Allison closer to the gathering. “Maybe they’ll share some cake. Or you can play on the playground and make a new friend!’ New friend? About thirty feet away from the pavilion was a playground, the kind that was big enough for both kids and adults to enjoy, though she’d never have been caught dead goofing around on one. It was empty however. “Here Ellie,” a relative, possibly her mother, said. “Before we get you set up with cake, why don’t you open this?” Almost ceremonially, the bright pink package that the other young girl had been holding was shoved in Ellie’s face. She took it half-mesmerized. Because of the package’s dimensions and how today had been going, Allison had a sinking feeling. “No…” She trudged closer anyways, her Little Kings still sagging beneath her. “Oh!” the girl, Ellie gasped. “Are these what I…?” She started panting and tearing up slightly, gazing at the rebranded package of Rearz Princess diapers. “Guys! How did you know?!” Her mother pecked her on the cheek. “You don’t think I know my own baby girl?” “Or that I don’t know my own adult baby girl?” The only other teenager said, giving a peck on the mirrored cheek. “Come on, let’s get you out of those yucky big girl panties.” They’d come close enough so that Allison could see everything. The changing mat on the spare picnic table, and the girl’s family lying her down and undressing her there in the open air in front of everyone while packages of onesies were ripped open and a fresh diaper- the first of an uncountable number- was fluffed. Allison only found her voice once they were practically on top. “STOP!” Allie screamed. “STOP! THIS IS WRONG!” “Oh don’t worry, Allie,” Genie said, tapping the top of her hand. “They’re just getting the big baby girl nice and comfy.” There was a curious staring from the group towards them. They’d clearly intruded, but such intrusion wasn’t stopping the girl whose birthday it was from getting her butt covered in baby powder. “I’m sorry,” Genie apologized. “My little one has a very big imagination. We were just getting ready to go over to the playground over there.” Whether the apology was accepted or just mystically enforced, the tension left the family’s gaze. “Oh that’s alright. Kids will be kids.” They looked over at the empty playground and back to the cake. “Would you like to join us? Ellie doesn’t have any adult baby friends yet.” The older woman smiled condescendingly towards Allie. “And we’ve got a loooot of caaaake.” “Genie,” Allie whined, “you can’t do this to her!” The birthday girl’s Rearz had just been sealed on, and the other girl (her girlfriend? Mommy?) was sitting her up and tying a bib over her that just barely covered her breasts. “She’s just a kid!!” “No she’s not,” Genie shook her head. “She’s eighteen. That was very clear from everything I learned about adult babies.” “Just turned today,” A middle aged man with a mustache nodded proudly. “That’s my girl!” “Then how do you know she’s really an adult baby?” Allie whined. “Just look at her. It was obvious this morning, as soon as she got up.” “The wet bed was kind of a hint too,” Ellie’s mother chimed in. “Don’t think I didn’t see you trying to do the laundry like a big girl early this morning.” That made the new big baby’s skin start to match her fresh padding. “Aybies…always trying to hide it, even though it’s obvious.” She smiled and clicked her tongue. “Such an imagination.’ “Sowwy mom,” Ellie said, waddling over. She wrapped her arms tight around the older woman. “Fankyou!” “You’re welcome, baby.” “But…how do you know?” Allie persisted. “How did your family and Mommy know?” Ellie asked. Allie immediately tried to avoid eye contact. Ellie was better endowed than her and it was hard not to stare, even with the bib. “Grown-ups just…know.” It was just like the grocery store. “But I was wearing jeans and panties,” Allie sulked. “And if you saw a baby walking around in jeans and panties, would that fool you?” Genie asked. “No…” “So why would it be any different with adult babies?” The other girl, now seeming much more grown-up and mature, even compared to Allie, came up and hugged the new adult baby from behind. “And after we graduate from highschool, you can move in with me. The college I was looking at has a great Aybie daycare program that’s free to students and I can probably get a special dorm. Won’t that be neat?” Family members nodded in approval and also pledged to help ‘Aybiesit’ if needed. “Graduate?” Allie found herself saying. “Why would an adult baby need to graduate anything? Or know anything?” “That’s a good point,” the mother said. “We’ll have to inform the school and have her drop out. Get things added to her identification.” “A very good point,” Genie agreed. “That’s not what I meant!” Allie yelped. “How old are you, baby girl?” the new Mommy said. “What’s your name?” “I”m Allie,” Allie said, not realizing how foreign yet right it felt to say it out loud. “And I’m…I’m…twenty-seven.” “Wow,” the high school senior said. “That’s super old. I’ve never been that old before. Can you count that high for me, Allie?” Hm? Of course she could. “One….two…three…four…” There were other numbers. What were they? “One, two, three, four,” she repeated. “One, two, three, four.” She really felt like she was gaining steam. “One, two, three, four.“ Yes! That was it! “One…two…three…four!” All around nodded approvingly. “Wow, that’s really good! You almost got there, too!” “Got where?” Allie asked. “Don’t worry, baby,” Mommy patted her on the head. “You did a good job of counting.” That made Allie feel a little better but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was suddenly very very off. Noses around wrinkled. “Ellie,” her new Mommy said. “Is that you?” she stepped back and gave the pink diaper a pat. Ellie popped her thumb out of her mouth. “Is that what, Celeste? I mean, Mommy.” She giggled trying the title out. “Nope,” Mommy said, letting the back of Allie’s waistband snap back into place. “It’s mine.” “What?!” Allie squealed! “That’s impossible!” She hadn’t even felt herself going! “When? How?!” “Must’ve been all that counting,” someone chuckled offhandedly. “But I’m not poopy!” This poopy diaper disagrees,” Mommy said, giving her bum a pat. “Or did someone poop your diaper for you?” “You did,” Annie sulked. “You did, Mommy.” “Oh the freedom, to lash out and still be loved,” Mommy replied. “Truly a treasure greater than all the gold of King Solomon.” She started leading Allie out of the pavilion and towards the public restrooms. “Come on, sweetie, let’s get you sorted out.” “You can take care of her here,” the middle aged man with the mustache said. “It’s nothing we haven’t seen before. She’s just an adult baby. Go ahead and change her.” The new Mommy practically shot her hand up in the air. “Oooh Oooh! Can I change her? I need the practice!” Allie’s heart nearly leapt up into her throat. The idea of being changed, in public, by someone almost ten years her junior made her everything go on high alert. Mommy placed her hand on the mall of Allie’s back. “I think I’ll take this one, ma’am. But if our girls hit it off maybe we can talk about playdates and babysitting.” The younger woman blushed. “Sorry,” she said. “New Mommy syndrome. I’m just really excited.” “Think nothing of it.” Allie winced sitting down on the top of the empty picnic table, her body almost automatically lying down, while Mommy rummaged through a diaper bag and got out wipes, powder, and an Alphagatorz. “What am I doing?!” Allie said to herself. “You’re getting a diaper change,” Mommy said. “Just like you always do.” Allie didn’t have time to object when the tapes to her old stinky diaper were ripped open. She moaned and gasped as nice cool baby wipes were pressed against her flesh, caressing away the warm and icky residue and leavings that her body had pushed out. “Doesn’t that feel better,” Mommy asked. “No responsibilities. No worries. No having to clean up after yourself! No need for all those silly grown-up thoughts like spelling, and reading to worry about….” “I’m a biburl,” Allie mumbled around her thumb, while her Mommy balled up the used diaper and set it aside. She should be hating this. There should be goose pimples poking out of her flesh. Getting her poopy butt wiped in public! In front of strangers! She should be panicking. She should be trying to escape or fight back. She should be begging to learn how to use the potty, or to get her knowledge back…she was sure she’d lost those skills but only because she’d told people she’d had them. She should be crying and in misery. Why should she…again? “Yes you are a big girl,” Mommy agreed. “But that just means that you’re allllll done with the hard work of growing up.” She slid the new diaper deftly beneath her and dusted her privates. It could have been her zillionth time doing something like this. “This is your reward.” “Okay, birthday girl!” Came a call closer to the presents and food and away from the diaper changing supplies. “Who’s ready for some smash cake?!” “CAKE?!” Only Mommy’s hand on her chest stopped Allie from leaping off the makeshift changing table. “Hold on hold on. You’re not all taped up yet,” she chuckled. “And it’s not your cake. So we’ll have to be patient.” Allie harrumphed back down and let her Mommy finish diapering her. Admittedly, it did feel better to have the diaper on nice and snug instead of only half taped on. Then, like a good girl, Allie raised her arms up over her head so that her Mommy could take her shirt off for her. “Looks like someone forgot to take off that silly bra,” Mommy clucked. “Oh well. We can take it off now.” Somebody’s uncle came up with a piece of cake. “Here you go, little one. Here you go, Mama.” Allie didn’t wait before cramming as much as possible into her mouth at once, hands first. “Hey, Ellie! You could learn a lot from your new friend!” It wasn’t Allie’s birthday, it was her new little friend’s, but for some reason it felt like she’d been given the gifts too! (The End.)

Friends, Magic is real and all around us; we just fail to grasp it and take its powers for our own. Most hucksters and snake oil sorcerers would tell you this and add in the phrase “Believe it or Not!” But that particular colloquialism is one hell of a misnomer. You have to believe, friends, you have to. Belief is the thing that generates magic, that breathes life into it like air to a flame. Belief latches onto that power and Divine Spark of creation like a fishhook into a trout and reels it to the surface. You get enough people to believe something and all of reality will bend the knee and bow to that belief, instantly retconning itself because magic told it too. Do you really think that dragons never existed? Or that man was not meant to fly? Or that the United States of America was founded before 1958? If so, that’s just magic retconning your memory thanks to belief. For as long as mankind has been around, those who wield magic have been the editors of reality and by my count, we’re on at least the one thousandth and sixteenth draft, give or take a fairy tale. One thing I will add, however, is that the belief need not specifically come from you. Not initially anyways. Ever hear of magic artifacts? Monkey’s Paws? Four Leaf Clovers? Ginsu Knives? Chia Pets? If enough people believe something is magic- if they invest that little bit of their own tiny portion of belief into it-then it becomes magic regardless of the individual belief. A clover is lucky and a knife will never ever dull. You just gotta be careful of what the belief is and who uses it, is all… An excerpt from “Do You Believe in Magic? 2nd Edition” By Cornelius Crowley. **************************************************************************************************** Road trips are super boring. Always have been. Always will be. And you can’t convince me otherwise. Travel, in general, is super boring. You’re stuck in some kind of box, either by yourself or with other people, and you’re not where you want to be. It’s waiting and being mobile at the same time. Vacation? Moving? That’s exciting! New places, new diversions, new people, new everything! Traveling? Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! You can bet your ass that if the Pilgrims didn’t have to cram themselves in a big wooden boat to get to Plymouth Rock, they wouldn’t have. If traveling circuses and carnivals could get a reliable cash flow without going from town to town to milk their marks, you bet your ass they wouldn’t. Traveling sucks, road trips suck, and Nickelback sucks. That last example has nothing to do with the first two but it needed to be said. It just sucks. It’s always sucked and always will suck. It’s just as our trains, planes, and automobiles have gotten faster, we’ve gotten less tolerant of the suckitude of it all. It sucks even when you’re with the love of your life and she’s driving. “Almost there,” Crystal said. I stared at my Twitter feed, not reacting. We were nowhere near Disney World. We’d just crossed the state border not even an hour prior. With the detour we had to take and stops for dinner we probably wouldn’t be in Orlando until sunset. “Lola? Lola?” I looked up from my phone and over at my girlfriend. “Huh?” I asked. “I said we’re almost to the next rest stop,” she said. Her right leg was on the pedal, and her left one was bouncing up a storm. Most people would see that nervous energy on her slim, athletic build, and assume that she was a runner, antsy to stretch her legs or something. Nope. Crystal just had to pee. She wasn’t even all that athletic. My girlfriend had been blessed and cursed with many things; chief among them was a hummingbird’s metabolism. She could wolf down a whole cow’s worth of ground beef and not gain a pound. This was balanced out by also having a humming bird’s bladder. “Cool cool,” I said. I sat up and dug around for change in the passenger side armrest “Do we got any change?” Nothing but three measly pennies. I looked at the pastures and backwoods cowfields. “I bet vending machines don’t take credit cards here.” “I don’t think this stop will have a vending machine,” Crystal said. She pointed at the sign and turned onto the dirt road. “Gift shop, maybe.’ A thick wooden sign had the words “Ponce De Leon Wishing Well” carved in it. This is what happens when you realize that driving is still cheaper than taking a plane and an interstate pileup makes taking back roads more palatable. “”Oh hell,” I said. “Do you think I need to find some Confederate money?” Crystal tried to stop herself from laughing, and failed. “Lola! Stop! I’m gonna pee here in the car!” I stopped. That didn’t keep the smug shit eating grin off my face while we pulled into the parking lot next to what looked like nothing more than an old timey well and a stone hut of a visitor’s center. “I’m going to the bathroom,” Crystal said, turning the engine (and air conditioning) off. “You coming with?” “Naw,” I replied. “I’ll see if I can’t snag a bottle of Sprite or something. I’m kinda thirsty.” We got out and stretched our legs in the balmy southern heat. Both heading towards the lone standing structure. “This might be our last rest stop for the next couple of hours,” Crystal said. “You sure you don’t gotta go?” Inwardly I rolled my eyes. Just because I made Crystal ‘in charge’ of our travel plans, she was acting like she was my mom or something. I shrugged nonchalantly. “I’m good.” “What if you drink all that Sprite and have to go?” We made our way inside. “If I have to go,” I said, “then the bottle will be empty, won’t it?” “Ugh,” she groaned. “I’m dating a child! A literal child!” I giggled at my own cleverness, making sure she’d hear me all the way to the tiny unisex bathroom. Meanwhile, I bought my soda, (they did accept credit) and meandered to see what exactly at this place could possibly trap a tourist. The well, as it turned out, was it. Just the well. I took a sip of Sprite and stared down into the abyss. There wasn’t even a boundary keeping me from getting too close. No grate stopping someone from falling in, either. “Someone could really get hurt messing around with this thing,” I said to no one in particular. “...this thing….” Came my own voice back to me.. “How deep is this well?’ “It doesn’t say,” Crystal’s voice made me jump. “But it’s got a plaque.” Riveted to the side of the well was a bronze plate that read: “Dug by Spanish Explorers in 1600, this well was thought by Ponce De Leon to contain the water of the Fountain of Youth. Local legend has it that anyone who throws a penny down it will have their deepest wish granted should they but speak it.” “Whoah,” I whispered. “There’s a lot to unpack there.” Crystal took her phone out and googled something. “Yeah. Pretty sure Ponce De Leon died before 1600.” “And why would a magical Spanish wishing well accept American pennies?” I wondered. “Why would explorers dig a well?” Crystal added. “Nobody digs a well and just leaves. Shouldn’t it be colonists or settlers or something?” I nodded to her and shook my head at the well. “And is it the Fountain of Youth or a Wishing Well?” I let out a chuckle. “Pick a lane, guys.” “Maybe it’s both?” Crystal suggested. That got us both grinning at the absurdity. She elbowed me and pointed to the bare bar above the well where a rope would typically be wound up for a bucket to be lowered. “I bet it used to be a fountain, but then they lost the bucket.” I dug around in my pocket. “One way to find out,” I said. One at a time I tossed them in, waiting for the telltale plunk of them hitting water or the jingle of them hitting rock bottom. “Nothing?” Crystal asked. “Must be deep,” I said. “All the way to the fountain of youth.” I took my girlfriend’s hand and we started walking back to the car. “Should we go and tell them what’s wrong with their local legend?” “Nah,” Crystal replied. “Let the local yokels have their fun.” She nuzzled me and purred like a kitten. “You don’t wanna lose your three wishes do you?” I nibbled on her ear and parted so I could slide into the front passenger seat. “How good could a wish be if it only costs a penny?” We buckled up. Crystal’s Subaru backed out and then surged back down the dirt trail. “Only one way to find out,” she teased. “Fine,” I grinned. “I wish you got those curves May inherited from your Mom.” My girlfriend pretended to be offended. “Lola! Rude!” “What?” I teased. I had invoked both her mother and her little sister. Crystal had gotten her father’s body. “You told me you were jealous!” “I was drunk!” “Still counts, babe,” I winked. I reached out and petted her hair. “You know I love you and think you’re hot as hell, right?” Not that I’d ever admit it, but I’d been making eyes at May when we first met. Lucky timing and her boyfriend stopped me from striking out, so I hit on her big sister. I have a type, but Crystal isn’t unattractive, and natural chemistry goes a long way. The past year or so made me so glad that I hit on the big sister instead. “Well that’s one wish,” Crystal said after a slight pause. “You got two more. What are they?” “We’re still doing this?” I asked. We’d just turned back onto the paved road. “Unless you want me to turn on the radio or something.” Crystal reached for the dial like it was a threat. “No, no,” I said. “Just didn’t realize this was turning into some kinda thought experiment.” “We can always play I spy.” “No.” “Then wish, girl.” I inhaled. So we were playing this game. I liked games and thought experiments. There were no wrong answers, but it still felt like there were definitely ways to win or lose. “Freedom,” I said. “I want freedom.” “Pretty sure you already have that,” Crystal said. “Or close enough.” “Naw,” I said. “I want total freedom. Do what you want, when you want.” “So The Purge. You want the Purge.” I frowned. “Not like that. More like. I want as much freedom as humanly possible as can be handled. If I wanna walk around topless, I can. Or if we make out in the middle of a sidewalk, people will mind their own damn business. That kind of thing.” I was on a roll and knew it. “I want everybody to have that kind of freedom. I wish everybody got as much freedom and power as they can responsibly handle. No more or less.” “From each according to their ability to each according to their needs, eh comrade?” I folded my arms. Some people read a few articles on Marx and they think they know about communism. “When you put it that way…” I said. “Shut up.” “Is that a wish?” Crystal teased. “No,” I said, “I’m saving my last one for later.” “Laaaaame,” my girlfriend said. “You have to finish.” “They’re my fake ass wishes,” I said. I took a sip from my half empty bottle of Sprite. “I can do whatever I want with-” Time stopped. The Subaru wasn’t moving. The air conditioning had turned off. I wasn’t even breathing. I couldn’t feel my heartbeat or move my eyes. Only my consciousness kept going. There was no pain. If there had been, I wouldn’t have been able to scream anyways. My lungs weren’t contracting. The world was pulling away from me, the front seat getting further and further away. Dying? Was I dying? I didn’t know. I was helpless to do anything while I sank away from the world like it was quicksand. Falling. Falling. Falling. I was being yanked against my will, but the gravitational force was moving me backwards not downward. The world went black but only for a second. Suddenly, I was gazing at the back of the passenger seat, with my legs still partially inserted. Was I moving through things? Like a ghost? My peripheral vision expanded to see Crystal’s eyes from the rear view mirror. If my heart had been beating, it’d be close to exploding at that moment. Was I going to pass through into the trunk? Then out into the road? Then what? But no. My back touched something solid and soft. Something started hugging my chest. And just like that, I exhaled, and God pressed play on the world again. “Bah?!” I blinked and breathed and let out a surprised scream. ”AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” My heart and lungs started catching up to my brain and making up for lost time while my limbs spasmed in panic! What the fuck had happened?! I opened up my mouth to ask what was going on: ‘Why am I in the back seat?’ ‘Did you see that?’ ‘Are you okay?’ That sort of thing. What came out? “Blagabargag!” I looked down past my nose at my mouth the way I used to whenever I played a wrong note in marching band, as if it were the instrument’s fault. Huh? Okay. No big deal. Clearly I’d had so many questions overloading my brain that they all scrambled together at once and just came out. My brain registered my own bare legs and the feeling of something pressing against my chest so that I couldn’t learn forward more than an inch or so. What had happened to my pants? Why were my legs shaved? Was I in a roller coaster seat? How did a roller coaster seat get into our car? None of this, neither the questions popping into my brain at a mile a minute or the assumption that I’d just tripped over my own tongue was analysis. Analysis takes time. This was just pure justification; my mind racing and grasping at straws while other parts couldn’t help but keep taking in new data before the first set was fully processed. That’s why people see their lives flash before their eyes before they die. A panicked brain really can outpace the clock. In real time, it was maybe a second before I tried again, only to get another round of babbling, that time something like, “Gagagarobbububub!” I gasped. Oh fuck! Maybe my heart really had stopped! What if I was brain damaged or something?! Did I have a stroke? Had I lost time and years had gone by with me only now regaining a form of lucidity as my girlfriend was driving me out of whatever nursing home or therapy center years later? I wiggled my arms and legs around experimentally. It was easy enough. Vaguely, I registered the feeling of extra cushioning on my seat and the slightest crinkle when I moved. “Agah?” My eyes narrowed and I focused everything on my mouth. “Wwwwwwhaaaa?” It was like my speech centers were bogged down in pudding and I had to focus every spare thought on making my rubber lips cooperate. A pleasant wetness spread beneath me, warming and cupping my bottom and crotch. It was like I’d sat on a wet bench that hadn’t quite dried after a sun shower, except the wetness didn’t spread to my thighs. For the split second I was thinking about it, I lost focus and smiled slightly. I wriggled in my seat and a giggle spilled out of me after the babble. It tickled down there, but in a good way. “Finish your baba, Lolo,” Crystal said, sounding oddly calm considering that I’d pretty much teleported. “Baba?” That word came more naturally to me. I looked over and in my left hand where the Sprite Bottle had been was an honest to goodness baby bottle filled with an amber colored liquid. “That’s right,” Crystal repeated herself. “Make the juice-juice all gone.” New emotions flooded my brain. Crystal had told me to do something! She wanted me to make the juice-juice all gone! I had to! I had to in the same desperate way that a girl does whatever stupid thing to make another girl laugh just so she’ll like her and go out on a date. With almost no hesitation I put the rubber nipple to my lips and started to suck. My eyes widened after the first drops of juice hit my tongue. It was SO GOOD! Better than the finest wine! Better than the smoothest whiskey! I never got to sipping because my lips and tongue took over and I went to full-on gulping the stuff down, tilting my head back, pacing my breathing between swallows for maximum, practiced efficiency. “Good girl!” Mommy said. I kicked my feet and jiggled uncontrollably in my seat. Giggling even as I sucked. The praise from Crystal was like cocaine to my brain. Just the gleam in her eyes and the smile in her voice was enough to make me melt. Then I stopped. Mommy? Where had that thought come from? “That’s right, girly-girl,” Crystal praised. “Make the juice-juice alllll gone.” Girly-girl? That phrasing caught my attention. I wasn’t exactly a butch dyke with a buzz cut and Doc Martens, but I wouldn’t have described myself as particularly “girly”. I ripped the bottle from my lips and looked at myself. My legs were bare, but at the end of my feet were pink sneakers with velcro instead of shoelaces. My plain yellow t-shirt seemed to be intact, but it had decorative frills on the sleeves, which perfectly complemented the sudden frills on my matching colored socks. “Gah huh-maka?” It was the closest I could manage to ‘What the fuck?’. I hadn’t been wearing a denim jumper dress before but it was roughly the same material as my jeans had been. “All done yet?” Crystal asked. “Nope. Just a little bit more, Lolo.” Oh no! Not done yet! I popped the bottle back in and started sucking again. Had to finish! Had to finish for…Crystal! My…girlfriend. I felt a slight twinge in my bladder, but the moment I considered whether or not I had to pee, the feeling vanished. Coincidentally, a bit of warmth made itself known in my panties and a giggling moan escaped my lips for some reason, and I felt a bit of hair brush against my ears and tickle my cheeks. One hand still on the bottle I reached up and patted my head. My hand searched around and found two bushy pigtails, one on either side of my head. What was I, two? My eyes widened, and I gulped down the last of the juice-juice. In slow, gasping breaths, I looked down at the harness keeping me in the massive roller coaster seat. It connected just above my breasts and then ran all the way down to a buckle between my legs. I couldn’t get a good look at myself or see past the buckle very well, but I thought I saw the barest puffy hint poking out from underneath the denim dress. The extra cushion in my panties made a lot more sense, as did the slight crinkle. But… I still had my breasts and hips. My voice hadn’t changed or gotten any higher, and the world was the same size as it had been since my growth spurt ended. Yet for some reason I could barely talk, was drinking apple juice from an adult sized baby bottle (and loving it), was dressed like a toddler and sitting in a massive car seat. What the fuck was going on? Oh no! My brain caught up with the rest of me and as I dropped the bottle to the side, I reached down between my legs and grabbed the diaper-my diaper-and felt the wet squish beneath my fingers. I’d wet myself! I’d wet myself and giggled! I’d wet myself…and kind of liked it. “Ah-ah-ah Lola!” Crystal tutted. Her voice had an edge of seriousness to it. I yanked my hands up all the way to my breasts, trying to keep them away from my diaper and retract them back into myself at the same time. My cheeks flushed like I’d been caught playing with myself. Oh gosh! Why was THAT turning me on? Mommy kept driving and talking. “You know the rules, young lady. No humpies in the car. You’ll just end up breaking up all the padding and then leak when you pee-pee again. Wait till we get somewhere so Mommy can change you right after.” Just hearing Crystal talk about humpies was making me want to do it more. I whined like a puppy dog and jiggled in my seat, gasping as the wet padding grinded and rubbed up against my pussy, letting myself gasp and giggle. “Lola….” Mommy Crystal warned. I stopped and did my best to look embarrassed and ashamed. I wasn’t, though… WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO ME?! I should have been having a panic attack and trying to explain things, not acting like a toddlerized bimbo! I opened my mouth to talk, but not even babble came out; just the whining scream of a child who was angry they didn’t get their way. “WEHHHHH! WEH! WEH! WEH! Bluurgh!” I kicked and kicked and kicked the back of the empty seat in front of me. Hating it and loving it at the same time! Normally I’d have to be articulate or clever or have some kind of snappy one-liner if I was upset. Not in this fever dream I’d found myself living in. Something about screaming felt right. Felt normal. Same for trying to dry hump in a wet diaper. My body tried to lurch forward but was held in place by the baby seat’s harness. Crystal was pulling off to the side of the road. The idea of being spanked flashed across my brain, and my heart started to race in a bad way. Something in my brain signaled I’d pushed too far too fast. Crystal put the car in park, but didn’t cut the engine. Her arm dug around a bag in the front seat that hadn’t been there. I caught glimpses of pastel pink. Then she turned around and looked at me in the back seat. My jaw dropped. That wasn’t Crystal! Or it was, she still had the same eyes and voice, but her body had been completely transformed. Her breasts heaved out in her tank top, barely contained by her bra. Just leaning over I could see the curvature of her hips and tiny bit of tummy that stopped her from looking like a cartoon character. She looked like something of a cross between a slightly older version of her little sister and a much much younger version of her mother. “Mama?” A line of drool came out the corner of my mouth. “Suck on your binkie, baby girl,” she commanded, ignoring me and popping a pacifier in my mouth. I was helpless to obey and sucked on it. “Good girl.” We kept driving while my brain reeled from the simplest of pleasures: Sucking on a pacifier, endlessly. Hearing Mommy call me a “good girl”. Lightly rocking in my seat. Bouncing ever so much in my wet diaper. Marveling at Mommy’s body. It was all so completely overwhelming. If I hadn’t been restrained I might be rolling on the floor. I sat there, lost in my own little world while the car plowed ahead and eventually got back off the detour and onto the highway proper. Meanwhile, in the back of my mind I managed to keep questioning and wondering through the bouts of sensory overload. Why was I dressed and acting like a baby? Why was it overwhelming me? Why didn’t Mommy think this was strange and why did she look so…so…different? I was desperate to know. I wished… Wish… ‘I wish you got those curves May inherited from your Mom.’ That had happened! Crystal’s body had literally changed into what she would have looked like if her genes had been slightly tweaked around puberty. My own words came back to haunt me. ‘I wish everybody got as much freedom and power as they can responsibly handle. No more or less.’ No, that couldn’t be. How could this be freedom? I didn’t have the bladder control to make it to the potty on time, I could barely move and I was dining on fake nipples. Why, though? Why? ‘And is it the Fountain of Youth or a Wishing Well?’ Both. It was both. And I hated it and was loving it simultaneously. I turned my head to the side and was just barely able to see past the massive headrest that doubled as blinders. “Ga ma blurg?” Just barely pulling ahead of us on the highway, a big red minivan with untinted windows was crawling steadily by us. In the backseat, same as me, I could make out another car seat with another baby in it. And that baby was just as big as me. Another trickle entered my diaper. I’d unselfishly wished this on everyone… not just me. All around the world, there must have been some magical force going around and deciding who could handle adulthood and how much they could handle. Evidently I wasn’t the only one who needed babas and binkies past two. I sucked harder on the paci, drawing calm from it and wondering half-drunk. How fast was this happening? Was it a fifty fifty split? Would everyone now be magically divided up into Mommy or Daddy and big baby? How was this freedom? I kicked and fussed impotently in my seat, wanting so many things that I couldn’t have. Freedom. Normalcy. Food. Humpies… I slammed my eyes shut and let the pacifier fall from my mouth. Just doing that made me feel like I’d chopped off a limb or something. I bit down on my lower limp and did everything I could to force my mouth to obey my commands. “I…wwwwiiiish…” Mommy glanced at the clock. “I think we should get something to eat. It’s about that time.” “Blah?” My mouth went haywire at hearing her voice and the sharp exit back off the highway. Less than a minute later, we were in the parking lot of a nearby restaurant. I saw other people getting out of their cars and walking past ours. An older woman made eye contact with me and waved, smiling. Oh no! I was seen! My face flushed, and, instinctively, I buried my face in my hands. It was stupid, I realized, but not being able to see made me feel calmer. Almost as calm as when I was sucking my pacifier. I heard the car door open. “Awwww,” I heard Mommy coo at me. “Somebody wants to play peekaboo! Two powerful hands tore my palms off my face. “Peekaboo!” Instant comical hilarity invaded my brain looking at Mommy’s face. “HAWWWW!’ I covered my face, pretending that I was somehow invisible. “OH NOOOO,” Mommy called back in a theatrical falsetto of panic. “WHERE’D MY LOLO GO? HAS SOMEBODY SEEN MY LOLO? WHERE’S MY BABY GIRL?” Her hands busied themselves unbuckling me from the massive car seat, and then teased and tickled at my sides. I let out muffled giggles, trying to hold my breath. Gingerly, I peeked out from behind my hands. “THERE SHE IS! THERE’S MY BABY GIRL!” In an instant, I was laughing and up on her hip, my legs wrapped around her shapely waist to stop from falling; her arm beneath me supporting my weight as if I were little more than a feather. Damn, but it felt good to laugh in a non-cynical way. It felt good to be silly. I hugged Mommy tight and started planting wet sloppy kisses all over her face. “Someone’s feeling very affectionate!” she laughed. Not thinking, I grabbed and groped at her chest. “Hungry, too.” She peeled my hands off of her and squeezed my bottom. “And wet.” At feeling her touch me back, I let out a low moan and my eyes rolled back in their sockets. So good! For an instant, the sound of car engines ceased to matter. People were watching us grope each other and no one cared; certainly not me. We started moving but the journey wasn’t far. Mommy popped open the hatchback and laid me down inside with my legs dangling out past the knee caps. “Mama?” “Let’s take care of that wet bottom first,” she declared, hitching up the skirt and laying down the pink diaper bag she’d already fetched from the front passenger seat. Modesty overcame me, and I struggled to work my mouth in time. “Nnnnnn-!” SCRITCH-SCRITCH The velcro tabs on my diaper came loose, and I was paralyzed by shock. I didn’t dare move as the fresh air gusted over my privates and Mommy started wiping me down between my legs. “Such a wet, wet little girl!” she teased. “Yes you are! Yes you are! That apple juice went right through you! No wonder you wanted to make humpies so bad! If I was a little girl like you and got that wet, I’d want to make humpies too!’ My skin heated up into a full body blush while she cleaned me and lifted my legs to wipe my bottom and slip out the diaper from beneath me. She was talking to me like I was a simpleton, and it was loud enough for anyone passing by to hear. And people were passing by! I saw shadows and outlines passing over Mommy’s shoulders, heard footsteps and voices of nearby conversations and babbling and the sounds of stroller wheels rolling on the concrete. All of them could see me, too! All it would take was a turned head to see my legs up in the air and Mommy going to town with baby powder. All it would take is the slightest pause in conversation to hear my girlfriend turned caregiver talking about me peeing myself and wanting to hump things as if it were perfectly natural and mundane. In a way, part of me realized, it might be. Maybe not “natural’ but the wish might make it seem mundane. I let out a sigh of relief when the fresh diaper was taped up around my hips, feeling oddly comfortable. Cleansed, powdered, and refreshed, it was like a mini spa in my panties. I wiggled my butt and grinned to myself. It still didn’t make the idea of getting wet again any less appealing. I took a moment and tried shaking off the cobwebs. What was happening to me? Did I really enjoy this…this…exhibitionism? More of my words came back to bite me. ‘Or if we make out in the middle of a sidewalk, people will mind their own damn business.’ I’d groped and kissed her and had my underwear removed in public, and people were just going about on their way.. Upon entering the restaurant, basically a Denny’s analog, I saw more and more of the fruits of my labor. In line waiting for a table before us, a woman snoozed topless in her stroller, sucking on her pacifier. I popped my thumb in my mouth and sucked on it, feeling a kind of jealousy, wishing that Mommy had remembered my binky. At the nearest table, a man in a onesie munched on applesauce fed to him by what might have been his wife. On our way to our table, a couple with a baby just as old as them scooted out of their booth to take their babbling not-so-little one to the bathroom. The Daddy fished out a single massive diaper and wipe packets before embarking, making no secret or pretense on what was about to happen. This should be turning heads. This should be causing screams and nightmares. It just wasn’t. “Will this do?” the hostess asked us, showing us to a table that was smack dab in the middle of the floor. I was plopped and buckled into a highchair before Mommy replied, “This is fine.” Words literally failed me while she dug a bib out of the diaper bag- my diaper bag- and fastened it around my neck. “Gah!” “Gotta keep those pretty clothes of yours clean, lil’ Lolo,” Mommy said, pinching my cheek. “The ones that’ll stay clean.” “Mama!” I whined, loving the attention despite it. I was the center of her attention and nigh invisible to everyone else. Likewise with the other massive infants and toddlers and their newly acquired parents. “MAAAAAAAAAA! AH AH AH AH AH AH! A few of the diners turned their heads towards the source of the noise. Mommy just shushed me, giving me a rattle to keep me occupied while she ordered lunch. It dominated my attention, and I instantly started shaking it, enchanted. I’d wanted this…I just didn’t know it until I’d gotten it. I had freedom. Freedom to scream and thrash and kick, knowing no one would be hurt or overly bothered. Freedom to dress in completely ridiculous clothing. Freedom to express my affection and pee my panties and get my butt exposed in front of everyone. “Heeeeeeere’s num nums!” Mommy said, interrupting the rattling and my reverie. “Gah?” I looked down from my rattle and to the warm tray of tomato sauce drenched spaghetti in front of me. How much time had passed? Had I distracted myself with a simple rattle for that long? “Go on, Lolo,” Mommy said, taking out her phone. “Eat your sketti!” She was getting ready to film me. I knew enough about kids to know what was expected. This was going on Facebook or Tiktok or wherever embarrassing cute wholesome kid vids went. “Go on. Eat up!” Mommy wanted me to eat and make a mess all over myself. No one else in the world would care. Those who did care would think it was cute. I got a flash in my mind of the people closest to me (my family, Crystal’s family, maybe friends from college or work, who could tell?) and thrilled at the idea of them seeing my face smeared in spaghetti sauce. That, and Mommy was telling me to do something. Giving me permission to make an ass out of myself. Freedom to obey! Freedom to get messy! Freedom to eat with my hands! I tore into the plate of spaghetti, shoving noodles into my mouth at mach speed and pretending they were bloody worms. Some of it got down into my stomach and slid down my throat. Others smeared themselves on my face. Still more dropped out of my lips and onto the bib. The bib only caught so much… “Wow!” Mommy praised, clapping by slapping her thigh. Between the yummy pasta and Mommy the quiet ecstasy of making an ass out of myself in public, I was on cloud nine. Enough so that I was content and babbling while Mommy ate her salad and wiped my face with a baby wipe. But I hadn’t had my second course yet. After she finished her salad, Mommy picked me up and placed me sideways on her lap. “Let’s get this mess off you,” she said. The bib came off. So did the jumper. So did my shirt. “I swear, you got more on you than in you,” she laughed at her own lame joke. Her mom joke. Meanwhile, I sat on her lap feeling hotter than ever despite being naked save for the crinkly padding wrapped around my bum. I babbled happily and didn’t care that I sounded like an overjoyed toddler. “Bababababababa!” “Let’s get your tummy alllll filled up,” she said quietly. She lifted her top up and opened up the front of her nursing bra. I didn’t need her hand to guide me to her breasts and press on the back of my head. I still enjoyed it. My lips latched onto her and I started nursing, drawing her milk into me, moaning while kneading her titties like a kitten. If the apple juice was whiskey, the milk was purest ambrosia; nectar of the gods. Our breathing synced up, and she petted me while my eyes drooped, and I tickled and explored with my tongue. My mind knew I should savor this experience, but my body refused to listen, greedily suckling with a hunger that wouldn’t be sated. A full tummy would stop me, but it would never satisfy me. This was the sweetest of desserts. Liquid love. I was feeding from Mommy; taking her very essence into myself! In those moments that stretched out for eternity but didn’t last nearly long enough, I stopped being Lola and she stopped being Mommy or Crystal or whatever the fuck the two sides of my brain were battling to call her. We were one; bonded more intimately than lovers could be. I stopped thinking of us as lovers right then and there. Loving was an act. It was something you did and could stop doing. This was something deeper, more intense, and (hopefully) more permanent. We were Mommy and Baby. “That’s right,” she whispered to me. “Such a good little eater.” OH GOD! I shivered and shuddered and let the back half of my apple juice from earlier flood my pampers! If anyone was looking right now they’d see me filling my pants (except I technically wasn’t wearing any pants). This was why babies wore diapers, I decided. They needed to get the refuse out of their bodies as quickly as possible so that they could make more room for the liquid love their Mommies poured into them. It was just that simple. Far too soon, I was switched over, sucked her other tit dry and was being burped. I could have drifted off to sleep and hope to never wake up to my old life again… But the best part hadn’t happened yet. Mommy slid forward in her chair and repositioned me so I was straddling her knee, my wet diaper squishing anew on her thigh. “Ready for a horsey ride, Lolo?” she said brightly. Then she leaned in and said quietly, “Wanna make humpies?” That woke me up! Mommy started bouncing me on her knee and I started riding her like leg like a pony, shamelessly grinding up against her in the middle of the restaurant. “Ooooooh,” I moaned. “Oooooooh…gaaaaaaaa!” Turns out the verbal difference between ‘Oh God!’ and ‘Oh ga’ is pretty minimal. Some things don’t get lost in translation. “That’s right,” Mommy told me. “Let it all out.” My moans went low and my breathing went shallow. This was wrong! This was so wrong! But it felt sooooo good! “Here’s the check, ma’am,” the waitress, who couldn’t have been older than me, said. Mommy slid her credit card over without breaking eye contact with me. “Here you go.” “Looks like somebody’s having fun!” The waitress giggled as if me grinding against my partner’s knee in broad daylight were somehow cute. Oh god why was this hot?! “Blurgaaaaa!” I squealed. Freedom to cum in front of everyone. Freedom to have my tits bobbing up and down. God this was amazing! Wishing Well, this was amazing! My stomach lurched, and my body tried to reposition itself. I raised my bum off Mommy’s knee. I was about to poop! I had to stop! I had to clench down! The last bits of modesty that I had were fighting to take control back of the narrative I’d written for myself. “Gaaaaaa-” Mommy wouldn’t let me stand up. She placed her hands on my shoulders and continued to stimulate and tease me, prodding me closer and closer to orgasm with just gravity and her knee. The bouncing was speeding something else closer, too… “Nah-ah-ah,” she said. “Not until you’re all done. It’s gonna be a loooong car ride and I want my precious baby girl nice and tired.” I couldn’t…I couldn’t disobey her. I didn’t want to. I wanted that delicious praise. That delicious release. That…that… Even my inner monologue failed me as my cheeks spread and a mudslide emptied itself into the seat of my diaper. Right after my body took control of itself away from me and I started pushing, I screamed when an honest-to-god “the-earth-moved” orgasm shot through me like a bolt of white hot delight, better than any other orgasm I had ever hadt, and I gripped Mommy’s shoulders and leaned into her while the mess and muck spread around. “Oooooooo….”I moaned, unable to even babble in anything that wasn’t a vowel. “Eeeeeee….aaaaaaa.” “And poopies too?” Mommy beamed. “Good baby! Getting it alllll out for Mommy. You’re gonna sleep real good when we get back in the car.” I’d pooped myself and orgasmed nearly at the same time in front of everyone. Even then, I knew that my brain had accidentally made the connection. If I ever got out of this, I’d always associate doing one with the other… and the association would be entirely positive. For the time being, though, the only thing I was getting out of was my diaper in favor of a new one. “Let’s get you changied, Lolo.” Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered a factoid that a baby on average goes through six diapers a day. My mind tickled itself at the idea of cumming in public half a dozen times. The waitress came back and placed the credit card back. “This will be here for you when you get back.” Mommy was getting my own supplies ready for the restroom. “Do you want me to change her?’ My eyes popped open. Oh yeah…more than just a baby’s Mommy changed her. I’d probably be having lots of sitters in the future, all playing with me and telling me how cute I was. A girl could get real used to that. A new fear came into me. What if someone somehow unwished this at the well? I’d accidentally wished the world this way. What if someone accidentally wished it another way? It wouldn’t be hard for someone to idly wish for their big babies to grow up. Then I remembered that I still had one wish left. As Mommy laid me down on the changing station in the bathroom and started to undo my tapes, I focused on my mouth to control it with all of the remaining will I had in me.“I wish…” I said, listening to the echo of my own voice, “for no more wishes…for anybody.” Time stopped for a second. Then it picked back up again. Mommy kept changing my diaper. Just like she always had. Just like she always would. And me and every other big baby in the world would be as free as we needed to be, and every Mommy and Daddy would have as much power as was needed to love us. (The End)

It was a peaceful Saturday afternoon, the kind not seen in some time. The sky was painted a clear blue and the air was warm and still. Not scorching hot like some summer days—just warm. On a grassy hill overseeing a quaint town, not a soul was stirring except for one tiger and her stack of books. By the day’s end, she hoped to have cracked through a couple of novels that have been wasting away in her backlog. “Let’s see...” Velvet pondered to herself. “Where do we begin? I really wanted to start ‘The Crow Files’ today…” This type of free time didn’t pop up every day. She had to make the most of it. With a clear schedule, there was nothing stopping Velvet from getting lost in a good book. “VEEELVEET!!!” “Oh crap.” Velvet thought. Her ears perked up; she turned her head to see the source of the familiar voice charging towards her. The giant, lion shaped nuisance she was hoping to avoid. “Yo, Velvet,” The nuisance began, “How’s it hanging?” “Baxter.” She answered curtly, “Is there something I can do for you? Did you forget how to open a picket fence or something?” Baxter laughed, interpreting her sharp comment as playful banter. “Naw, it ain’t like that. I just figured, what with it being your day-off and all, you’d be all types of bored. With me being such a nice guy, I thought I’d keep you company.” The lion flicked back his mane and shot a smirk at her. Ugh. “Well Baxter, that’s very…generous of you to think that. Fortunately, I have more than enough good company already.” Velvet motioned towards her stack of books. Baxter scoffed. “Seriously? You can read those books any day.” “Yes, and I want to read them today, idiot.” “I’m a busy cat Velvet. I’m really careful with my days off.” “Yeah right, busy bugging me all the time.” “I have to make my time off special. That’s why I’m trying to spend it with a special girl, you dig?” “Yuck. Gross. Barf.” Velvet’s poker face was beginning to crack. Her claws unsheathed and scratched the grassy hill, a sign that she was running low on pleasantries. What was supposed to be a day for reading had been shanghaied by this lovestruck loser. She struggled to think how this day could get any worse. “Come on Baxter. Isn’t there anything else you’d rather be doing today?” “Anything else?” That stupid smirk was back in full force. “That sounds like an invitation to me. If you wanted to skip the chit-chat all you had to say was—” “VELVET VELVET VELVET VELVET VELVET!!!!” “Oh great. It’s the other one.” Before the two big cats could even blink, someone else was already standing attention in front of Velvet. He was a cheetah, fur slicked back and bursting with energy. “Hello Flash.” Velvet groaned, “What can I d—” “Wassup girl!” Flash interrupted. “I didn’t know you were chilling out on the hills today!” Flash had a wide grin on his face and was hopping about like an overjoyed puppy. “Well, I was j—” “Me?” Flash interrupted. Again. “I was just getting some laps in, doing my thing, y’know?” Flash halted his hops, swapping over to a round of toe touches. “Then I spotted you looking all types of fine!” With just one line, Flash had upgraded from impatient puppy to drooling dog. “Actually, I w—” “Doing some reading? Yawn!” One extra quick look at the stack of books was enough to make Flash lose interest. “C’mon mama, that stuff is for schoolgirls! Here’s a better idea. How about we grab a bite and go somewhere a little more…private, if you catch my drift? Velvet wasn’t catching any drift. “One more stupid pet name and the only thing this creep would be catching is a black eye!” Why, oh why, did these two clowns have to flirt with her today? Over time Velvet grew use to the occasional wink and cheesy pick-up line during her work hours. But to her, free days were as sacred as they were rare, and she had two stupid boys to ruin that. “Hey spot,” Baxter snarled, “The lady is with me. Why don’t you skitter on back from where you came from?” Flash turned around to see Baxter looming over him, he could practically see the steam puffing out of the lion’s nostrils. Flash did a doubletake and started to snicker. “Velvet, is this hick serious? Is this joker giving you trouble? “He isn’t the only one, that’s for sure,” Velvet thought. If these two wanted to impress her, they could try acting like adults for once. “Seriously, do they think I’m some kind of airhead?” “You better watch your mouth, punk.” Baxter puffed out his chest, squaring up to the smaller big cat. “Great. Now they were fighting.” The oncoming display of macho attitude did nothing to excite the female feline. Quite the opposite. “You know, if they could keep their hands to themselves, or to each other, I might get some reading done.” Just as she let the thought cross her mind, Velvet felt the proverbial lightbulb click on overhead. “You wanna go, country boy!?” “Yes, come to think of it…” Velvet brewed up a plan, drowning out the incensement chatter a few feet away from her. The solution became obvious, as worked she out all the kinks in her mind. “Now, all I need to do is get those two bozos on board.” “Ready when you are, shrimpy!” “Hey! Listen up!” Velvet roared, raising her voice for the first time that day. It was enough to stop the two boys from maiming each other, as they both now stood attention towards her. “Now, it is obvious you two are obsessed with me. Now, I can’t have you two biting your heads off over me, so here is what we’ll do. We need a neutral third party. As such, I nominate my old friend, Lilac. She needs someone to help tidy up around her house, and I believe you two are perfect for the job. After that, she will tell me which of you did the better job.” Baxter and Flash stared at the tiger, a mutual look of confusion on their faces. Velvet rolled her eyes. It appears she had to retranslate the idea into a language two overly smitten kittens could understand. “I need a man that knows how to help a woman. If you can’t handle it, you two just aren’t worth my time. Lilac will be able to bring out your true character.” Baxter had a sour look on his face, like he was mulling over pros and cons. It sounded like she was trying pawn off her friend’s chores onto two able-bodied fellas. Before he could conclude, Flash arrived with his answer. “Now sweat, Lil’ mama! I’ll have her house so clean; you can eat off it.” The lion replied, not wanting to be one-upped. “You can leave the heavy lifting to me. Spot here will probably throw his back out at the front door. I say we skip the embarrassment and give the obvious winner his date now.” Velvet was not having it. “Oh no you don’t. The dates will come later. You two just need to worry about doing a good job tomorrow” Velvet gathered up her stack of books and took her leave. “I need to go warn her about your arrival. You can’t show up to a lady’s house unannounced.” To really sweeten the deal, Velvet looked over her shoulder, put on her best pair of babydoll eyes, and said, “I’ll be waiting for my winner~.” The teasing made the tigress gag internally. It was as degrading as it was effective. Velvet had no doubt Baxter and Flash would be outside of Lilac’s doorstep first thing come tomorrow. As soon as the dizzying duo were out of sight, Velvet let out a sigh of relief. Knowing Ms. Lilac, ‘the date’ would never have to come. It was nothing more than a fish to dangle for two hungry cats. The thought gave her small comfort. For now, at least, all Velvet had was faith in an old friend. Faith, and a stack of books she would very much like to read. *** Dawn had arrived, and so had the two big cats. Unsurprisingly, Flash showed up first, outpacing Baxter considerably. He looked very proud over this fact, smugly perched outside the front step. “Took you long enough. What, you had comb the bugs outta your mane or something?” Baxter exhaled sharply. He didn’t bother to shoot a comeback and start fighting. He had a job to do today, and he couldn’t let Flash disrupt that. His eyes were on the prize. Victory was in his lap—and soon, Velvet would be as well. “Why are you bumming out here? You could have knocked on the door already. What, you get lonely without me.” “I was just waiting to see if you were going to show up. You might have decided to ditch and leave me with all the work.” He was nervous. Baxter could tell right away. Flash was so easy to read. Although, Baxter couldn’t blame him. Lilac’s manor gave off major witch-vibes. He was happy to come here in the morning, and not on a dark stormy night. They didn’t even get a chance to knock. Their commotion had alerted the homeowner, as the manor’s wide double doors stretched open. She was a skunk, her fur a fine black with white stripes. They could tell she was an older woman. Both by the crows’ feet under her eyes, and her sense of dress. Her bonnet and checkered blouse looked as antique as the house itself. “Why, hello my dearies!” Lilac began, in a shrill little voice. “You must be those big strong lads who have come to help me? Velvet told me all about you two. Come in, come in!” She took the two big cats by their arms, dragging them inside. The front door shut behind them with a resounding boom, causing the lion and the cheetah to flinch. The skunk was unfazed, still tickled pink by her new company. “Are you boys ready to get to work?” Flash cut in, “Ready and waiting ma’am! You just show me where to clean, and I’ll mop to it,” he answered, finishing with a wink. The joke got a smile from Lilac, and an eyeroll from Baxter. “Well, we—"Before Baxter could say his piece, a strikingly strong scent hit his nose and cut through his train of thought. It was fruity yet flowery. Sweet yet mature. The scent traveled from Baxter’s nostrils to his throat, and he struggled to hold back his cough. Lilac wasn’t noticeably offended. She hadn’t even looked surprised at the reaction. “Oh, I see you noticed my perfume.” The skunk walked between the two younger workers, her big fluffy tails brushing their sides. “It’s an older fragrance. A family staple. It’s something I reserve for my most special guest. It is not the most popular scent. Girls your age probably find it too abrasive.” Abrasive was putting it mildly. Baxter looked over to Flash, and saw his eyes were watering. Baxter’s head was swimming in a perfumed sea. He weakly waved a paw behind himself, trying to find something to sit down on. That hadn’t panned out, and a large feline fell back on the floor below. In a rare occasion, Flash was second. He fumbled forward, falling to his hands and knees. Both big cats were drowning, desperate to find dry land. Instead, they found a lady skunk as their lifeline. Lilac wasn’t noticeably shocked. Her two newest guests looked on the brink of collapse, but her responses were unadjusted. Another dainty chuckle. Another sweet smile. Nothing out of the ordinary for this skunk. “I think I might have overdone it. You two are such big things. I wasn’t sure how much it would take to put you down. Still, I’m glad to have you around. You two are going to be very good workers for me. Is that understood?” “Yes, Madam Lilac.” Flash answered first, as eager as ever to heed a lady’s call. His gaze was vacant, his reply was thoughtless. Mentally, he had dived headfirst into a fog, and he had no clue how to turn it back around. Lilac’s instruction was his beacon of hope. Or a siren’s call. He hadn’t been able to tell the difference. “Such a fast learner,” Madam Lilac cooed. “I’m glad to have you aboard. But I need to have some muscle as well. Let us see what your friend has to say.” Satisfied with the cheetah, Lilac turned her attention to the much larger feline. Cupping his head in her paws, smiling sweetly, her tails brushing under his nose. Lilac knew how to persuade a simple mind. There was no shame in her game. “You still want to tidy up for me, yes?” Baxter’s body was sturdy and stable. His mind, however, was very open to outside interference. Whether it was the general atmosphere of the morning, or the impossibly strong scent that circled his senses, Baxter couldn’t say. Baxter could say that he felt comfortable in the hands of Lilac. That was enough to form an answer. “Y…Yes, Madam Lilac.” Madam Lilac smiled, having got the answer she wanted. “I’m so glad we’re all on the same page. Now, it’s time I put you two to work.” *** Baxter toiled away, a dainty feather duster in hand. He still couldn’t believe he let the library get this dusty. Had he been shirking off his duties? It sounded unlikely, and quite out of character for him. This morning had been such a blur, it was hard to say how he had been acting. So many oddities this morning, even his regular uniform felt foreign to him. Thankfully, there was nothing else out of the ordinary. *CRINKLE CRINKLE* He had to get his mind out of the gutter. His skirt swish freely as he walked through the library halls, trying to gain a familiar rhythm. He outstretched a gloved paw to dust a particularly high shelf, thankful his high heel shoes gave a slight boost in height. He pulled back his long white gloves and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. He was lucky he didn’t need to stop for bathroom breaks. *CRINKLE CRINKLE* Keep the manor spick and span. Don’t complain. Don’t wince. That was code, day in and day out. That was your mission every day. Every day? Of course, every day. What else would he be doing besides this? “How is work going, dearie?” Before Baxter’s mind could fall into another stupor, his madame arrived to pull back his attention. Baxter paused his work and met her with a curtsy. “Good to see you, Madam Lilac. Everything is going well. Though, I have been feeling a bit dazed today.” “I’m sorry to hear that, my dear. Unfortunately, I cannot allow you to rest today. I have guests coming over today, and I need everything to be in order.” Without so much as a word, Lilac held Baxter closer, brushing her large, bushy tail against him. “You understand, don’t you? I need you be a good maid for me.” As Madam Lilac held him, Baxter felt all his troubles wash away. His dam had been broken, and the intrusive thoughts came flooding out. He felt a great sense of release as his mind finished draining itself. “…Yes, Madam Lilac. Forgive me. I will be a good maid for my Madam.” Madam Lilac got the answer she wanted, same as always. She left the maid to his duties. Baxter, now alone again, took a moment to examine himself in a nearby full-body mirror. He lifted the front of his skirt, taking a good long look at the pink disposable diaper that he wore. It was thick enough to endure a full workday, being as standard as the rest of his uniform. The diaper plainly read “PAT HERE” on the front and the back, in large cutesy lettering. It was a clear instruction that Madam Lilac often followed when checking on her maids. Baxter let out a relieved sigh, seeing that nothing was out of the ordinary. *CRINKLE SQUISH CRINKLE* *** Flash was on a roll today. He couldn’t remember the last time he had worked so hard. In fact, all his past workdays had become a vague blur to him. No worries. Just another smudge to wipe away. Nothing to lose pace over. His madam gave him a job to do, and nothing was going to change that. Including a glass half full of foggy memories. By the time he finished, this bathroom would be spotless. “Well, someone is working hard.” Without a sound, Madam Lilac appeared at the edge of the bathroom doorframe. The skunk smiled down at the cheetah, who was busy scrubbing down the tile floor. “Yes indeed, Madam Lilac!” Flash replied, as eager to please as ever. “Got to make sure everything is spic-span for you and your ladies tonight. Leave it all to me.” “As chipper as ever, I see. That’s good. My friends are going to adore that attitude of yours. I thought I would have to give you some encouragement, but you appear to be getting along splendidly. Carry on, my dear.” Flash wasn’t one to complain about well-earned praise. So, he carried on as instructed, being the best maid that he knew how to be. The marble tiles that clacked against his shoes were spotless. The mirror was gleaming, showing a clear image of his adorable reflection. He even made sure to clean the odd porcelain chair in the corner of the room. The one with water under the lid. He never found out what that was for. The madam had no doubt reminded him countless. In the end, Flash decided it couldn’t be that important. Certainly not worth committing to memory. Flash took a seat on the mystery throne, taking a moment to catch his breath. He noticed nature’s call and answered it on the first signal. He was a maid, made for efficiency. He knew that he couldn’t let such base urges disrupt his workflow. With that thought, his bladder finally let loose, a hiss echoing in the small bathroom. Flash felt a small kick of embarrassment deep down somewhere, and he had no clue as to why. He had relieved himself, flooding his diaper in the bathroom on top of the funny-looking chair. Nothing worth noting. Satisfied, Flash stood back up and continued his duties, not at all minding the new warm and wet feelings he had to deal with. It was all just another day’s work as a maid. *** It was progress report time. Madam Lilac’s maids had been called back to the foyer to discuss their next assignment. They both arrived early, still not caring for the other’s company. The two were growling at each other now, both feeling catty. “Well,” the lion scoffed, “I’m surprised the madam hasn’t fired you yet. She must enjoy watching you struggle and fumble around. Not that I blame her, given how cute and submissively you act.” “Oh, just stop it,” The cheetah spat. “You are just jealous that she likes me more. It’s because I’m not a total slowpoke, like you. Waddling around with that big bulky frame of yours. I’m surprised she found a dress big enough to fit your thick butt.” “Beatrice! Fiona! You two better not be fighting again.” Madam Lilac called out to her maids, walking down the stairs ready to greet her guest. “My friends are going to be here any moment now. I need my best girls to be on their best behavior. Is that clear?” The madam’s perfume was stronger now, both maids picking up the brunt of it as she held their heads under her paw. The pair’s growls had turned into guilty whimpers. “Sorry, Madam Lilac,” replied Fiona. “Sorry, Madam Lilac,” replied Beatrice. Their obedience had successfully been refreshed. Was Lilac overdoing her dosing? Not at all, she thought. These two kitties desperately needed to be trained. “Very good. You two had better play nice now.” “Understood, Madam Lilac.” Beatrice was so sick of having to put up with this shrimpy, petite thing. That Fiona thought she was so cute, the way she waved her hips around with every step. What she wouldn’t give to have five minutes alone with that little tease. “Yes, Madam Lilac.” Fiona had her own set of reservations. It was so distracting, watching Beatrice lean down to dust a vase or water a plant. She gave the whole world a perfect view of her thick thighs and fat diapered butt every time she did it. That big tease, it had to be intentional. The front doorbell rang, alerting the lady and her maids the guest had finally arrived. The maids whipped into action and opened the huge double doors in unison. They welcomed the new arrivals with a bow, and they all looked so happy to be here. They were all skunks, about Lilac’s age. They very easily could be relatives, or old family friends. Whatever the case, Beatrice and Fiona were to treat them all with the utmost respect, as any good maid would. Fittingly enough, all eyes were glued to the pair of padded maids. “Oh, they are just adorable!” “You sure do know how to find good help!” “What a precious pair of big cuties.” Madam Lilac chuckled to herself. “Yes, yes. My maids are very lovely. But please, give them some space. They’ve had a rough morning…let’s call it fatigue. Why don’t you take the discussions to the living room? That’s a much more appropriate place to catch up. And the maids will serve us while we talk.” Lilac had managed to corral her friends to the living quarters. The maids were commanded to set their squabbling aside and cater the guests. In time, the ladies were seated, and their topic of daily discussion was busy serving them, tending with tea and cookies. “I must say, Lilac,” One woman opened, stifling back giggles, “You have really outdone yourself this time. You certainly have an eye for quality.” She took a sip of her tea, admiring how much grace the lion displayed, despite the bright pink diaper she wore. “Oh, I agree! Finding good help these days is feels next to impossible.” The other woman patted the pink diaper of the cheetah next to her, as the print had instructed. “So submissive as well. I thought that trait died out in this newer generation. Don’t let these two get away now!” Lilac waved off the excited chatter. “Really, you must all stop with the flattery. My maids were eager to help me today, is all. As you know, the process is so much easier with a willing party. I had their services recommended by a friend and the rest worked itself out. They used to squabble all day with each other. But they have made great progress in such a short span of time. Observe.” Lilac rang a bell, and the maids instantly stood attention. Good. That was one less thing she needed to commit to teaching them. “Girls, I want you to show my friends how well you two get along. Now, face each other, and pay another a compliment.” The Madam’s command was law. As obedient as they were, matching blushes still rose to each of their faces. Beatrice had a collection of strange and conflicting feelings about Fiona that had been building up very quickly. Fiona, in turn, was afraid to admit how similar she felt. Madam Lilac clapped. “Hurry up now. It is very rude to keep a lady waiting.” Beatrice swallowed. She was strong enough to be the bigger person and make the first move. “Fiona. I have always admired how quick-witted you are. Having you around always makes me want to work harder. I think, on some level, I would be lost without you.” She spoke from the heart, surprisingly enough. Nothing she said was untrue. She just hadn’t been able to put them into words until today. Everything came automatically, without command. This was turning into quite a wake-up call. Fiona gasped; hands cupped over her mouth. Had Beatrice truly felt that way all this time!? Were all those rude acts simply a confused attempt for her attention!? “Oh my! Bea! You are too sweet! I love having you with me. I feel so safe with those big, strong arms nearby.” The emotional floodgates had been opened now. It did not take much to swoon the cheetah over. Beatrice had confessed, so Fiona saw no reason to hold back her spring of emotions. “I want to cuddle up in a crib with a big pretty kitty holding me snug. I cannot get you out of my head, Bea! All the ladies loved this show of emotions. Madam Lilac especially. While their words were not planned for, she was more than satisfied with the results. “Very good, my girls. But, before I release you, I need to make sure there are no pent-up feelings left over. How about you two kiss to make up?” Go on now. No point in being shy.” Fiona was the first to react, as usual. Fiona pressed her lips against Beatrice’s, unable to stop her feelings any longer. Tails were curling. Fiona had on leg kick high up, the back of which brushed by her padding. Beatrice certainly was not refusing. She wrapped her big, strong arms around her, pulling Fiona closer. Paws began to wander to places better left unmentioned. All that can be said is that their diapers had never been noisier until that moment. The living room space certainly came alive. The guests were hollering at the sight. The smooching became loud, more impassioned. Breathy pants began to emerge from the pair of passionate pussycats, neither one wanting to stop. The entire time, Lilac sat back silent and enjoyed the show. Of course, this would not be the only showing Lilac would be treating her friends to. Lilac said she would put these kittens to work, and the good woman never went back on her word. *** It took Velvet a while to realize why her days had been going so well recently. No one was hitting on here during work. Her phone line was much quieter recently. Everything had been peaceful. Nothing to bother her. No one to bother…No two to bother her. After a striking revelation, Velvet put her day on hold to make a beeline to Lilac’s manor. She was surprised that Lilac never gave her an update on the situation. Had something gone wrong? Better than expected? Lilac was always so punctual, so Velvet had no idea what conclusion to reach. But, when the wide double doors of the manor were pulled open, Velvet got her answers. She had been greeted by a pair of maids. Maids who, technically, Velvet was already familiar with. Maids with matching uniform, which fit the pair surprisingly well. Frilly blacks dress with thick pink diapers. It was a classic favorite of Madam Lilac. One was a lion, tall, sturdy and thick. Her mighty mane had been styled into rows of elegant curls. She was no doubt excellent at doing any heavy lifting her master required of her. The other was a cheetah, slender and petite. Her athletic frame would have scored her the attention of any mate she’d liked. The cheetah, nowadays, uses it for running up hallways and sweeping down floors and impressive speeds. They truly were a sight to behold, this pair. How awkward for Velvet, meeting them again for the first time. The maids curtsied for the guest, business as usual. If there were any lingering feelings of betrayal or bitterness, it certainly did not show on their faces. Certainly not behind the pounds of makeup caked onto their faces. “Um…hello.” Velvet blushed. Did they truly not recognize her? It sounded too good to be true. It was most likely better this way. She didn’t need a pair of bitter big cats on her tail. She had a blank slate to work from. “Is your master here today? I would like to speak with Madam Lilac. Before the maids could say anything, the lady arrived with her own response. “Velvet, darling, is that you? Oh, come in, come in!” The lady skunk ran to the front door and embraced her old friend. “I wish you had called me beforehand. It is so lovely to see you.” Lilac whipped her head back and looked over at the maids, who were awaiting instructions. “Girls, prepare a spot of tea for me and my guest. We have much catching up to do.” The maids curtsy and follow orders without a second thought. Velvet wanted to decline the offer, but she knew Lilac rarely took no for an answer. Still, Velvet was impressed at how effectively the maids worked together. No fuzzing or fighting. It was almost as if the pair enjoyed the company, giggling at each other’s jokes and mannerisms. They certainly had made quite a turnaround. “Very good, girls. You two are dismissed. You may have one of your breaks while me and friend converse.” Lilac smiled as her maid gave leave, returning attention to her old friend. “So, what brings to my corner of the world, Velvet? I must say, you look to be in good spirits today. You are practically glowing.” It was not the first time Velvet heard that sentiment recently. Her mind had been much clearer, and reason for just waddled away upstairs to take a break. Velvet was not sure how to attack the subject. The diapers, the dresses. The cheetah and lion Velvet knew would never be caught dressed in such a fashion. Lilac certainly knew how to turn a problem into a positive. “I’ve just been taking more time for myself. Getting my work done. Catching up on my reading. Not letting small things distract me.” “Thank you again, for coming to visit.” Lilac replied. “It has been wonderful having my two pretty kitties around.” The delight in her voice was palpable, and it had rewritten the tone of the entire conversation. “It has been so lively here since those two arrived on my doorstep. All my friends simply adore them. I apologize for not updating you earlier. When I saw how well they were getting along, I knew I must keep them. I suppose I too got lost in all the excitement. I cannot thank you enough.” Velvet was at a loss for words. She finally could close the case on the mystery of the disappearing doofuses. It was good that Lilac planned on keeping her set, because Velvet surely did not want them back. Velvet never imagined her plan would go down this well. She could rest easy knowing this was the best choice for everyone involved. However, the visit did not end on a note high enough yet. She always had to give her guests a show. Lilac knew her maids well and had no doubts about what they were getting up to during their break. Lilac walked her friend to the maids’ living quarters, creaking the door ever so slightly so that Velvet could peer inside. One thing was for sure, they were not resting. It was impressive how much fun they were having together, while keeping their diapers on. Beatrice was on top, unsurprisingly. Fiona, submissive as ever, was on the bottom. A whole lot of gasp and squealing came from her side, while Beatrice was busy huffing and puffing. The sounds of their diapers bumping together, grinding back and forth, was not the only sound of passion tonight. Lilac sighed. “There they go again. This helps to tucker them out before their second shift. I love giving them something to look forward to every day. I just love it when my workers get along.” Velvet was once again left speechless. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined her former sappy suitors in such a position. Did she feel bad for her old acquaintances? Not really, no. She much prefers them on each other’s back rather than on hers. If Lilac saw them suited as maids, Velvet had to reason to stop them. Especially not after seeing how much fun they were having with each other. However, there was one thing that Velvet couldn’t deny. “They make quite a cute couple, don’t they?”

“Hey Makayla!” Tammy called out. “Wait up!” Nova rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “That’s not my name, Tammy.” the goth girl said. “You know that.” Despite herself, she let Tammy catch up to her instead of picking up the pace. “It is, legally,” Tammy said, breathlessly. “That’s what it is on your birth certificate. On your social security number. Driver’s license. It’s what’s going to be on your diploma in a couple months.” “Still not my real name,” Nova countered. “Not who I am on the inside. Not who I want to be.” “Then why haven’t you changed it?” Tammy asked, sounding like a teasing brat. “Hm? Hm?” “Because that takes money I don’t have yet,” Nova said frankly. “And I don’t have my own place yet.” Nova could list off two or three more reasons why, but she didn’t need to. “Yeah,” Tammy admitted. “That’s fair. Sorry, Nova.” “Don’t worry about it,” Nova said. Tammy wouldn’t. They’d be having this exercise next week. It might last longer depending if Tammy wanted to find a way to really mince words. It didn’t help that Nova’s parents kept insisting that her Goth aesthetic was ‘just a phase’. Such was life. They’d had this conversation at least once a week since 9th Grade. Tammy didn’t forget, she just liked being obnoxious sometimes. Okay a lot of times. Most times. Tammy Greene was the annoying little sister Nova never had asked for, but they’d been stuck together since Kindergarten. Nova attributed Tammy’s less flattering qualities to the fact that she was something of a brainiac academically. Straight A’s, all Honors and AP courses, and being in the running for Class Valedictorian came at the cost of Tammy having next to no social skills. Some might say that Nova didn’t have room to talk, but there was a difference between not having social skills and not liking most human beings. Nova dressed in all black not because she was depressed, but because she found a deep beauty in the macabre and the sad. Humans were often their truest selves when they were at their lowest points or thought no one was looking. Everything else was just fake. Speaking of Fake, yay for College Fairs. County wide, all the highschool seniors were allowed to skip as long as they submitted proof that they were at the Fair. The grounds were dotted with booths and tents from every college in the state and a few that were right on the border. Highschool kids milled around talking to recruiters and college folk about the different programs, tuition costs, and scholarship opportunities. They were all the same to Nova: Come to our school. Here’s our colors. We have a mascot. Behold our pamphlets containing racially and ethnically diverse models wearing our school colors and smiling. You can get good degrees if you pay us money, or kinda good degrees if you pay less money. If you order now we’ll also throw in a set of steak knives. “Worst. Fair. Ever.” Nova snarked. “I know,’ Tammy agreed. “Mostly community colleges.” Tammy had already been accepted to Yale during her junior year. She didn’t need to be here. Frankly, it blew Nova’s mind that she was even here. “Why are you here?” Nova asked. “What else was I gonna do?” Tammy replied. “Teach Mr. Stowers how to actually do calculus? No. No, no. Never again.” In truth, Nova suspected it was because Tammy had imprinted on her. They’d known each other since Kindergarten, declared each other BFF’s and Tammy had taken it to heart, no matter how wildly their paths diverged. Nova had gotten into poetry, theater, and art. Tammy was still the rigorous academic specializing in the STEM fields. They had almost nothing in common anymore, but Tammy was just still drawn to Nova like a lightbulb battered bug. Three more familiar faces worked their way through ever mingling tides of eighteen year old bodies. “Hey, Nova,” Charlie said. He winked at Tammy. “Sup Lil Sis?” “I keep telling you, I’m three minutes older!” Tammy flustered. “Mom said so too!” Charlie was Tammy’s twin brother, and the brawns to her brains. Big and muscular, but surprisingly fast, Charlie had played Varsity since freshman year and had already broken the school record for most interceptions in a single season. He had at least three separate colleges from different conferences making offers but he’d yet to accept one. Nova didn’t much care for Charlie since they’d both gone through puberty. He’d become a different kind of cocky from his sister that Nova didn’t much care for. That and he had a very particular odor about him that never seemed to fade. Charlie wore his letterman jacket everywhere, because of course he did, and he never washed it either, because of course he didn’t. Chloe, his girlfriend, didn’t seem to mind the smell too much. She hung onto his every word, and as of this very moment, was hanging from his arm. With as big as Charlie was and with how petite Chloe was, he could probably carry her around in his arms if he wanted to. They were almost a cute couple. Almost. “Hey Nova, hey Tammy,” Chloe waved. Her voice was much too high, almost squeaky. That had to be an act of some kind. So fake. Faker than the cheap costume pearls she wore around her neck. She also had an annoying habit of checking her makeup every five minutes. Not that Charlie was any better. He was constantly combing his hair and peacocking. “So,” Charlie said. “This place kind of sucks, right?” He moved his arm to indicate the entire fairgrounds. It was a big sweeping gesture, because everything Charlie did was big. He’d turned man spreading into a conversational art form. Case in point, he and Chloe fell in line with the girls and draped his arm over Tammy’s shoulder. “No spinny rides. No roller coasters. No face painters? Nothing. I don’t think these guys know.what fair means.” Nova stepped to the side so she could get away from the pungent odor of uncontrolled glands, ax body spray and unwashed jacket. “A fair can be a gathering for commercial purposes instead of entertainment,’ Tammy grumbled. Charlie scoffed. “I don’t see any commercials. Not even a T.V.” Chloe giggled like she thought Charlie was being clever. He probably wasn’t. “Learn what words mean!” Tammy shouted. Nova tried to take another step sideways, lest anyone see her associated with this bad comedy act, and almost slammed directly into Jane. “Whoah!” “Sorry!” Nova yelped. “Didn’t see you there.” “It’s cool,” Jane said. “No harm done.” Jane was the school’s token lesbian, and had the butch haircut and clothing to prove it. Most people assumed she was a boy before she opened her mouth. “What are you losers doing here?” she asked jokingly. Jane had moved in from out of state, and she and Nova had clicked with their mutual disdain for most people. “Free day off and nothing better to do,” Charlie answered. “Yeah. Same.” Nova wanted to argue the point, but truthfully didn’t see any. It’s not like she was seriously looking at any of these universities. Nova wasn’t sure if she wanted to go to college at all. If she did, it would primarily be to get as far away from this place as she could and none of the colleges advertising here fit that criterion. She had a feeling Jane was in the same boat, albeit for different reasons. “Mind if I hang?” Jane asked. No one objected and so she slinked in among them. For a time they meandered about., doing what came naturally: Gossipping. Gawking. Pretending to show interest in things that they weren’t even remotely interested in so that they could mock it later. They were all eighteen, but they were teenagers all the same. Highschoolers too.. “You’d think they’d have a food court,” Charlie said. “Turkey legs or something.” “It’s not that kind of fair,” Tally said. Chloe laughed and hugged her boyfriend closer. “He’s just joking,” No he wasn’t. But Nova kept the thought to herself. They lingered on the very fringes of the fair grounds. Sadly it was on the edges that were farthest away from the fairground parking lot. They’d seen all there was to see, but no one was quite comfortable with leaving yet. No one wanted to be the first to leave the party, even if it was a bad one. Jane pointed to something that didn’t quite fit in. “What’s that?” The group looked in the direction she’d indicated. It was a double long trailer, the kind commonly seen being pulled by semi-trucks all along the hallways. It rested at the very edge of the parking lot, its sides painted to make a stunning mural of the same woodland scene multiple times but in different seasons. Winter blossomed into spring, intensified, into summer, and faded into fall. The trees were in the same location, but the color palettes, position of the sun, and fauna changed. Furthermore, Nova noticed, the seasons seemed to bleed into one another. Near the border of Winter and Spring, the snow seemed patchier, with little sprouts sticking up out of the ground. Truth be told, it looked more like the kind of thing that would be hauling things to and from the kind of carnival Charlie had desired. What signaled its inclusion in this particular gathering was the banner hanging from its side. “Arcadia Academy of the Fine and Vulgar Arts,” Nova read the banner aloud. Tammy harrumphed. Folding her arms over her plain white blouse. “Never heard of it.” “Me neither,” Jane agreed. The way she said it, made it sound like a good thing. “I like paintings,” Chloe said. “Do you think they have some paintings?” Charlie answered for everyone. “I dunno. Looks less boring than every other fucking place. Let’s check it…” Nova was three steps ahead of everyone. This looked interesting! The rear end of the trailer had been converted so that in place of a drop down sliding metal sheet, a false wall had been installed with steps leading up to a door. Whatever this thing held, its contents were small enough to fit through a regular sized door. The door was open with a welcome banner draped above it. Nova was first up the steps. She found herself possessed of a strange giddiness. What strange kindred spirit would she find inside? To her slight confusion and disappointment, waiting for her was a girl about her age, maybe a tad older, sitting behind a desk. Unlike the other college students peddling pamphlets with the recruiters, this one was dressed infinitely more casual. She wore paint splattered overalls, and her hair was dyed bright neon pink. Actually…this might not be her particular aesthetic, but it was still a sign of a free spirit. The others caught up to Nova as she walked up to the desk. “Hey hey,” The girl said. “I’m Erin. May I have your name?” “I think I’ll keep mine, but I’ll tell you,” the goth girl joked. “It’s Nova. College girl got the most sour expression on her face at a harmless fucking dad joke. “Thank you for telling me. Come to check out the exhibition?” “So…is this like a fancy art college or something?” Charlie asked. “For freaks and geeks and glee kids?” He looked at Tammy and Jane. “Some taken,” they said together. Even adoring Chloe felt a need to peel herself off of her boyfriend. “You are such a guy, sometimes,” Chloe said. It did not sound like a compliment. Charlie immediately turned into a kicked puppy dog. “My bad…” “Are there brochures,” Nova asked, “or…” “This is more of an art exhibition,” the girl behind the desk explained. She thumbed behind her to a black velvet curtain. “Was kind of hoping we’d get a better spot, if I’m being honest. But we’ve got some really cool pieces. Interested in taking a look?” Nova felt her face fall. “So you’re not recruiting?” “We’re always recruiting,” Erin said. She removed a clipboard from the desk and slid it across to Nova. “Just put your name here for our attendance logs, and see what I can dig up while you’re in there.” “Attendance logs?” Tammy asked. “Why?” “To prove we had visitors, mostly. Justify the funding. All that.” She tapped the clean piece of paper. “Just put your name down here and you can go on in, and take a look.” Nova sniffed and wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something didn’t feel right. Also she could swear something foul. It wasn’t rotting corpse foul; closer to the odor that seemed to come from Charlie two inches in every direction. Something unclean…but natural. “Fine,” Nova said, and scrawled some illegible gibberish on the clipboard. The others followed suit, deciding it was better than nothing. Their host didn’t move from her seat. “Okay,” she said, jerking her head. “Go on back. Have fun and play nice.” Nova pushed back the curtain and went in. “Play nice?” Jane said as soon as the curtain had closed. “What was that about?” “Maybe this is a modern art or experimental exhibit?” Tammy supposed. “Looks like a boring old art museum to me,” Charlie said. He was right. It was dimly lit and air conditioned, but as far as any of them could tell, it was just a long hallway full of painted pictures. Chloe was already checking her makeup in the new, slightly dimmer lighting of the trailer. “It’s not that bad.” Hard to tell if she was talking about her makeup or the exhibit. “Let’s check it out,” Nova said. “Maybe something will speak to us. Or like there’s a hidden theme or something.” Gosh she hoped so. There was definitely a theme, if an unexciting one. Location,Location Location: Lots of landscapes and depictions of static places. Nova noted paintings of cabins in the woods, Roman-esque ruins, jungle settings, cityscapes both modern and futuristic, tropical islands, and so forth. Admittedly, the one that looked like the inside of a dilapidated farmhouse from pretty much every horror movie ever held Nova’s interest, but there was no action. None of them had any people or animals or whatever in them. Everything was static and still life; the most uninteresting fictional travelog. “What’s with the titles?” Tammy wondered. Nova hadn’t even remembered to read them. “Lumira? Vente? Arachne? Strata? Raksha & Pavo?” Tammy shook her head. “They sound like proper nouns, but the pictures are all empty?” “Places can be proper nouns,” Jane said. “That, or maybe they people in the paintings are all invisible.” She joked. Speaking of invisible… “Where’d Chloe go?” Charlie asked. The teenagers all did a double take, looking left and then right. It’s not as if the mobile gallery were big enough to get lost in. Yet, Chloe was nowhere in sight. “Hey!” Nova said. “That’s her purse!” Sure enough, Chloe’s purse was lying neatly by its lonesome on the floor, directly in front of one of the mobile gallery’s paintings. As if drawn to it, the four of them gathered around it. Tammy picked it up. “It looks too neat to have just been dropped,” she said. “Maybe she put it down and forgot it?” Chloe was bubble headed enough to do that, hypothetically. “Where’d she go, though?” Jane asked. “Maybe she went to the bathroom?” Charlie guessed. Nova rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t she take her purse with her?” Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she looked at all the water in that painting and had to go.” Again, he shrugged. “Maybe? Or maybe it was girl stuff or whatever. I dunno.” “Dude,” Jane called him out. “You can be such a tool.” “Whatever,” Charlie grunted, I’m gonna see if there’s a bathroom over here at the end. The three young ladies shook their heads at one another. “Don’t look at me,” Tammy said. “I’m only genetically connected to him.” The group forgot about Charlie and went back into the painting where they’d found Chloe’s purse. A placid beach scene if there ever was one. Fairly boring, really. “Sedna,” Nova read the plaque. “What’s a Sedna? Is it the name of the beach? Or the artist or what?” “Not relevant,” Tammy replied. “It’s just a pai…” Tammy stopped. What’s that sound?” The three stayed completely still, and in the silence they heard the faint cawing of gulls and the dull whooshing sounds of waves crashing on the beach. “Sound effects?” Jane wondered. “Maybe they put speakers behind the painting or something?” Nova squinted her eyes. Looking at the painting from a certain angle made her eyes hurt, almost like she was staring at the sun. Her skin tingled, albeit not in an uncomfortable way, reminiscent of the feeling of heat reflecting off of white sand. “What…is…?” WHOOOOSH! A powerful force, like a riptide, yanked Nova off her feet towards the painting. She let out a scream of shock and surprise. Two skinny arms wrapped around her waist with Tammy instinctively reaching out to save her, but the extra weight failed to anchor either of them. Nor did it save Jane. A flash of blinding light engulfed them, followed by a subtle yet distinct change in the air around them. Cold recycled air conditioning was replaced with warm breezes that whipped through their hair, causing Tammy and Nova’s skirts to flap, as well as Jane’s baggy shirt. “The fuck was that?” Jane asked. She turned to face the ocean. Tammy looked up and adjusted her glasses. “Those are seagulls…” she said, more to herself than the group. “No shit,” Jane said, still entranced by the ocean. “Last I checked, we don’t have any oceans nearby. So where fuck are we?” Before Nova had dived into the works of beautiful self-torturing despair by Edgar Allen Poe, she had taken a swim through the silly absurdities of Lewis Carol. Their works were not so dissimilar, she found. Carol simply chose to externalize nihilism where Poe internalized. “Guys…” she said. “I think we’re in the painting.” Tammy looked down from the sky. “Impossible! That’s just impossible.” “Yeah,” Jane. “There weren’t people in the painting.” She pointed and the group followed her aim. In the middle distance, farther along the shoreline, were what were very obviously people who appeared to go about their business. “What do we do?” asked Tammy. “We…we…we’re not at all dressed for beach weather.” In lieu of being unable to wrap her brain around the impossible, Tammy’s mind leapt to other reasons to disengage lest she shut down completely. No one was buying the flimsy excuse, however. “Go say hi,” Nova said, simply. “Maybe they’ve seen Chloe.” When in Wonderland, don’t stop to wonder. “But…but…but…” Tammy was already leaning back, digging her heels in the sand. “The further we get away from the…the…” she didn’t want to say ‘portal’, such dreck was for science fiction. “We popped up here. If we’re going to leave, shouldn’t we stay in proximity?” Jane was unusually quick to point out, “Doesn’t mean there’s only one way out.” “But those people…” Tammy pointed to the figures in the distance. Nova took her oldest friend’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “I didn’t hear any screaming. Nobody saw us. We can walk right up, ask where we are, ask how to leave, ask if they’ve seen Chloe.” That was just barely enough for Nova. The walk along the shoreline was longer than it seemed at first. What they hoped would take one minute, took closer to ten. Even that was more of a rough estimate. The walk gave them plenty of time to check their phones. Painting or not, wherever they were didn’t have any kind of cell reception. They might as well have had rocks in their pockets. Their pace slowed as they drew closer. The waves were further up the beach the more they closed in. The sand was becoming wetter and darker, almost muddy in some places. All around their feet, shallow ankle deep pools started to dot the landscape and waves threatened to overtake their sneakers. None of them knew enough about the ocean to guess whether the tide was rising or falling, and it didn’t much matter, they supposed. They wouldn’t be here long enough for it to be a factor. The tide and the state of their shoes was the least of the group’s concerns, however. As they drew closer, and the silhouettes grew sharper, they realized that something was dreadfully peculiar. Building sandcastles, running around giggling, and splashing in the shallow pools were young adults; men and women roughly their age. They weren’t exactly dressed for the part, however. Many wore bright bucket hats with straps fastened to their chin. Sunscreen was slathered on thick and pasty over many a face. Nothing inherently wrong with that, but a glimpse saw more than a few paraded around with inflatable water wings on their biceps, or bulky life jackets on their torsos. “Who our age needs floaties?” Jane scoffed to herself. “Is this a joke or something?” It was Nova who spotted the biggest reddest flag. “Is that a diaper?” Nova grimaced. She motioned to a young man with his back turned to them, squatting in the sand on his haunches and digging a hole with a tiny shovel and bucket. Out from under his baggy swimsuit, peeked something blue and padded. Nova didn’t have any little brothers or sisters but she had been to the public pool enough times to recognize a swim diaper when she saw one. This one just looked a lot bigger. “If that isn’t,” Tammy gasped, “I bet that is.” Beside them a young lady lifted up her baggy white t-shirt to prevent it from getting splashed by an oncoming wave. It was very clearly a pull-up style swim diaper, decorated with little fishes. That’s what was off: Every single person around them, playing happily in the sand and shallows, was dressed like a toddler might be on a day at the beach. Extra sunscreen and shade protection for sensitive skin, bright and cute colors that made them easy to spot should they toddle away. Bathing suits adorned with children’s cartoon characters, flotation aids to prevent drowning, and padded bottoms to make sure that no nasty surprises were left on the sand. Across the shore, everyone the three of them laid eyes on was very obviously diapered. Even the girls their age wearing bathing suits- gaudy frilly one pieces mostly- had a tell tale padded bulge along their backside and a hint of aquamarine peeking out around the legs that clashed with the rest of their outfit. The boys who wore bathing suits were more discreet, but it didn’t take more than a glance to see the waistband of the diaper poking up out the top of a seawater drenched pair of trunks. Most of the boys (and some of the girls) didn’t bother to wear bathing suits at all, instead choosing to tromp and splash along happily in nothing but colorful swim diapers. “We are definitely not in a painting,” Jane said. “This has gotta be some weird convention or something.” “How do you know?” Tammy asked, oddly curious. “I’ve seen some shit online,” Jane answered matter of factly. “Just…not to this level.” “Hey guys!” A familiar voice called out, causing the group to jump. “Tammy! Jane! Nova! Over heeeeeeere!” “CHLOE!” They ran towards their friend, waving to her, ready to embrace her and tell her how worried they were. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw what she was wearing. Save for the fake pearl necklace, the clothes she’d been wearing were gone, not a trace to be found. In their place, Chloe was wearing something that might be deemed by the locals as ‘appropriate’. Chloe’s makeup had been washed off, with gobs of sunscreen smeared on her face. A bright, neon pink bucket hat rested over her curly red hair with decorative sunglasses laying over the brim. Her bathing suit was a two piece, but it was hardly what one would call ‘sexy’ or even ‘mature’. Like her hat it was bright pink, with the covering Chloey from her shoulders down to just above her belly button. Needless frills ran along the shoulder straps and the hem, and cartoon starfish were painted over her petite breasts. The bottom half was much the same, frills wise, and the girls wondered to themselves how Chloe could possibly move around without having the inside of her thighs constantly tickled. Had Charlie been there, he would have noticed that it looked like she’d suddenly gained a few extra inches of junk in her trunk. The bottom was less of a bathing suit and more of a diaper cover. Nova recoiled back a step, but in the recesses of her mind, an intrusive thought wormed its way inside her: It really was a very good look for her. It showed off her femininity, but kept her cool in the sun, and the bottom would be easy for a Mommy or Daddy to remove whenever she needed a change. The goth girl cringed. Where had that thought come from? “I’m building sandcastles,” Chloe said. “Wanna play?!” “Hun, why are you dressed like that?” Jane asked. “You look like you’re two or something.” As always, Chloe giggled as if a joke had been made. She grinned big and wide, and bounced a little, like a child barely able to contain their excitement. “Nuh-uh!” Was all she said. “Where’d you get that stuff?” Tammy asked. “Why are you wearing that?” Chloe looked down at herself, clearly confused. “I’m wearing them because it’s not bathtime, silly. Naked time isn’t allowed when I’m not getting washed.” “Naked time?” Tammy and Jane parroted. Nova found her voice. “Who put you in that outfit? Who dressed you up like that?” Strange how Nova phrased it, she realized. Why ask that question as if she didn’t or couldn’t dress herself? From the lack of stares from her companions, no one else thought the phrasing was strange either, but even that was strange in its own way. “Mommy got me this swimmy suit,” Chloe said proudly. “Isn’t it pretty?” “And the diaper?” Tammy asked, unable to take her eyes off of Chloe’s bulging bottom. Chloe pouted out her lip and blinked. “Mommy did, too. She gets all my diapers. Why? Who gets yours?” “Mommy?” Jane asked. “I don’t think that word means what you think it means. “Who the hell is ‘Mommy’? “I am!” a deep yet feminine voice bellowed and a shadow fell over them. Looming over the reunited quarted, still dripping from the waves, was what could only be described as a giant mermaid. With breasts wreathed in coral, and hair wrapped in seaweed, the woman stood high above them. Despite her bottom half being decidedly fish-like, she sat on it perched and strong, muscular like a sea lion instead of flopping pathetically on her belly. Chloe clapped her hands together and squealed. “Mommy!” “Hello baby girl. Mommy just had to run back and make sure your nursery was all ready. Do you want to go see it, or do you want to stay here a while longer and finish your sand castle?” “Can my friends come play too, Mommy?” Chloe asked innocently, oblivious to the horror on her friends’ faces. “Can I show them my nursery?” “Awww, I’m sorry, my little guppy. Your friends aren’t quite ready to visit yet. Maybe later?” “Mommy?” Nova spoke up. “You’re not her ‘Mommy’. You’re…you’re…what are you?” The mammoth mermaid looked down at her as if seeing Nova and the others for the very first time. “Of course I’m Chloe’s Mommy,” she said sweetly. “I adopted her, didn’t I? People call me Sedna. ‘Miss Sedna’ to little boys and girls like you. Chloe’s Mommy if that gets too hard.” She seemed to bubble at the thought of being called that last one. “You can’t adopt her,” Tammy pointed up at the giant fish lady. “She’s eighteen! An adult! You can’t adopt an adult.” The mermaid chuckled good naturedly. “Oh, aren’t you precocious? I just know somebody is gonna loooove you, little eel.” “Sedna?” Nova thought out loud. “Like the name of the painting?” “Painting? Painting?!” the mermaid laughed as if Nova had just said something adorably funny. Chloe laughed too, but it was the empty hollow laugh of a child who didn’t get the joke. “What’s so funny?” Jane demanded, trying to sound tough and failing. “I’m so sorry, little ones,” the mermaid spoke over them. “I would have happily adopted any one of you, but Chloe washed up into my arms first.” As she said this, the foamy waves gave way to other merfolk, all titanic and monstrous in size, slithering up. In lieu of screams, the diapered young adults threw up their hands and shouted with joy, as if witnessing the return of a loved one. Nova’s jaw fell and her head went on a swivel at the madness practically engulfing them. People their own age were scooped up and hugged, or had their lips brought up to behemoth breasts which they happily began slurping and suckling on. Still more got their bottoms pat and the back of the swim suits pulled back for inspection. Beach towels were being flapped out and used as changing mats while people only a year or so older than she (if that) laid down to have their bottoms wiped. “Babies!” It was Jane who said it. “They’re all babies!” The disgust and fear coming out of her was palpable. It was almost a slur the way she intoned it. Only children whose ages were still in the single digits could have such open vitriol for something they used to be. “Oh, I think that’s enough excitement here,” the mermaid, Sedna, said, grabbing their attention. She picked Chloe up, and the already petite girl looked like an infant cradled in the giant’s arms. “Off you go. I hope you find your Mommies and Daddies soon.” She placed her free hand under her chin, inhaled, and puckered her lips. From out between them, a hurricane blew, hurling them through the air back the way they came. The trio of highschool seniors screamed. Like a roller coaster, they were flipped end over end until they didn’t know which way was up. Nova sat up from a mulchy dirt covered floor and grabbed at a painfully bruised ankle. It felt like she’d caught her foot on a door frame or something. Or a picture frame. “I think we’re in another painting,” she moaned, rubbing at her ankle through stark white socks that went all the way up past her knee. She stood up and looked down at her feet. A stray thought: Hadn’t she chosen all black, eight down to her socks? And why were her shoes so shiny? They were still black, but Nova could practically see her reflection in them. “Snap out of it,” Jane said, jostling Nova for the shoulder. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this place.” The sounds crowing and the chittering of monkeys rattled from behind impossibly tall trees. “It looks like a rainforest,” Nova said. Tammy indicated a bit of paved ground. “Rainforests don’t have sidewalks,” she said. “And the sounds sound automated. Canned.” An identical round of monkey chattering coming from the exact same place, gave truth to Tammy’s hypothesis. “ It’s more like a zoo. A poor imitation of real wildlife.” “Okay,” Jane said. “But then where are the animals?” “There,” said Nova. Not thirty feet away from them, they spied an elaborate network of cages made of elaborate bamboo, with tiny creatures flitting about in them. “Those aren’t animals…” Tammy said. Without realizing it they began to move closer, drawn deeper and deeper by the sidewalk. “They’re people.” They swung from the tops of branches. Pushed each other on tire swings. And slid splay legged down inclined planes. Others ran after one another in intricate games of tag. Encircling the cages were rows of monstrous sized benches. Titan sized creatures with the brown feathered legs and wings of a bird, but the torso of a woman sat upon them, keeping careful watch of their happy prisoners. “This isn’t a zoo,” Jane realized. “It’s a playground.” Indeed, it was. The people running around were giggling, having the absolute time of their lives from the look and sounds of things. None of them looked the least bit afraid of the sharp toothed monsters just on the perimeter. They all walked with a familiar yet foreign wobble, too. It was a toddler’s waddle, legs spread wide by thick poofy padded underwear. None seemed bothered by it. Disgustingly they watched a game of tag abruptly pause when an effeminate looking young man clad in drab dirt colored shortalls stopped, popped a pacifier into his mouth and then squatted right there in the middle of everyone. On one side of the playground, a row of strollers big enough to fit people in them sat, with occupants loading and unloading at a regular pace; each of them pushed there by a drab colored bird woman. Nova looked over at a bench and almost gagged. One of the harpies openly vomited into an empty baby bottle, screwed the lid on and then fed it to a gurgling baby girl in a bonnet and indigo baby dress that was barely a curtain for her bulging wet diaper. “Fucking sick!” “You think that’s sick,” Jane pointed to. “That chick is getting her butt wiped in front of everybody.” It was true. A little girl in a frilly green dress hiked up way past belly was in the middle of being changed, and no one seemed to mind. “I don’t think that’s a girl,” Tammy said. “See?” When the not-so-little girl’s bottom was lowered down onto a fresh diaper and her legs were spread, the three young women got a good look at a penis. “Tammy!” Nova said, shocked. “Transphobic much?” “Hm?” Tammy blinked, adjusting her glasses. She glanced at her companions and took notice of their faces and back to the full grown adult getting their privates powdered by a feathery hand. “No, not that! That!” She pointed again and Jane and Nova finally saw the diaper bag the harpy had been taking the changing supplies from lying on the ground next to the bench. It was just as intricate and ornate as the dress the big baby was in, but it had a name stitched into it that they hadn’t expected. “How many girls do you know named Jonathon?” Tammy asked. She jerked her head to a plain brown one. “Or boys named Kimberly?” “Mommy! Mommy!” A deep voiced adult dressed like a kewpie doll reached out for the girls like a child wanting to pet a puppy. “Play?” The harpy pulled the baby man back by just a single wrist. “No, no, Scott. Not till they’ve been adopted. You know better, little boy.” She still had a soft, indulgent smile that cut down on the severity of her butch haircut. With fresh eyes and a new perspective, the girls saw things in a new context. All the strange men and women were dressed like babies and toddlers, but the gender aesthetic was completely swapped. Girls had short haircuts, some even buzzed, and wore baggy clothes in muted colors that hid their womanly curves. Boys’ hair had been grown out and filled with ribbons and bows, and wore ornate festive dresses straight out of a beauty pageant. But in all other ways, certain gender stereotypes still played out. Short haired, butch girls played jump rope with a vine and hopscotched on sidewalk chalk. Boys still rough housed and played war games yelling “Bang!” and “You’re dead!” The trend didn’t end with the ersatz babies. “Come to think of it,” Jane whispered to herself. “These bird ladies do look kind of…like me.” The Harpies likewise had what would be referred to as ‘butch’ haircuts. It was easy enough to assume they were women because all of the diapered humans called one ‘Mommy’. That, and they all had their naked breasts on display. A pair of talons came down on Jane’s shoulders, and yanked her into the air. Her screech of shock made every other resident of the playground look up in alarm, but only momentarily. As soon as they saw what was happening there was a collective shrug. “HEEEEEEEELP!” Jane cried out, in the harpy’s grasp. She let out another shriek while the bird thing flipped her up into the air, caught her and cradled her just as it landed. This Harpy looked very different from the others. The human parts were lithe and fit with rippling abs and long flowing blonde hair, and carefully applied makeup on his face reminiscent of the powders and markings that the aristocracy of various cultures had used for time immemorial. His (and it was decidedly a he) bird parts were bright and colorful, and as he stood to his full glorious height, his bright and shining tail feathers spread out in a fan. “Worry not, my beautiful bouncing baby boy!” the peacock of a man crowed. “For you have been chosen, by the one, the only Pavo!” He paused as if waiting for applause. Jane kicked in his arms. “I’m not a boy, you jerk!” “Now, now, now,” the peacock said. “I’m not falling for that one again. I know how you little ones work.” He let loose Jane’s legs and dropped her to her feet, but only so he could use his other hand to yank her baggy shirt up over her head. “You dress backwards because you don’t know any better. But that’s why you need…” Jane’s shirt came flying off, exposing her. “Boobs?” Tammy and Nova blushed slightly and looked sideways. Something inside them was telling them not to interfere. Little girls shouldn’t bother grown-ups… Braless, Jane covered herself with her arms and practically roared up at the bird man. “Told you, you idiot!” “This isn’t fair!” the peacock harpy whined. “I wanted a boy! And the one time I got a clear shot, I picked a dull little girl that somehow managed to dress herself properly! What are the odds?!” The two remaining girls snapped out of whatever trance of shock and spectacle they’d been placed under and made a mad dash towards the peacock thing and their friend. “Grab Jane and run. I’m going for the shins!” “Right!” Jane shouted back. The pair ran straight towards the towering feathered grown up. They should have been faster than they were, but it was like the air around them worked against them. Perhaps it was some mesmerizing power peacocks had but neither girl’s legs moved quite right. A blur of orange and black crossed their path and snatched their friend off the ground and away from the peacock creature. “Mine!” the muscular woman tiger creature proclaimed. “Mine!” She cradled Jane in her arms and cooed down at her. “Don’t worry, baby girl. Mama won’t let that icky peacock man adopt you!” She lowered her head and nuzzled Jane. “Raksha,” the peacock harpy screeched. “No fair! That was supposed to be my baby!” “Get bent, Pavo.” The tiger Mommy growled. “You snooze, you lose.” The male harpy puffed out his chest, in an attempt to be intimidating. “But I saw her first, Rakasha!!” Unconcerned, she turned her back on him. “Pavo, you were disappointed with her the second you found out she was a girl. You want a baby with Daddy issues?” She looked down at Jane and regarded her. “Especially when she’s so very obviously a Mama’s girl .Isn’t that right my widdle cubby wubby?” Despite the impossible circumstances, or perhaps because of them, Jane showed little fear and less patience. Even half naked and cradled in a monster’s arms, she remained more indignant than scared. “I’m not your baby you maniac!” She shouted. “I’m not your baby. Not anybody else’s baby! I’m! Not! A! Baby!” The peacock man stepped back and folded his tail feathers away. “Nevermind, Raksha.” He said. “She’s a better fit for you.” He flew off with little pomp. Nova and Tammy regrouped. “How are we taking on a tiger lady?” Tammy asked, at a total loss. “No clue,” Nova admitted. Meanwhile, Jane was staring down the tiger with a woman’s face and not blinking. “Not a baby!” “Really?” The tigress cooed. “My baby girl isn’t a baby?” She set Jane back down on her feet. “Explain this, then!” Clawed hands quickly tore Jane’s pants asunder, leaving her completely naked save for her pink tennis shoes. That and her diaper. “Huh?” Jane gasped, turning several shades of crimson. Forgetting about her breasts, she tried and failed to use both hands to hide it. “No! I don’t wear these! I don’t” It didn’t even look like an adult diaper. It had cartoonish jungle leaves, the kind of foliage tigers stalked in, printed all over the front and back. “Mommy! I don’t!” “Is that so?” the tiger Mommy said. She used a claw to pull back the waistband of Jane’s diaper. “Not poopy,” she said. Nova and Tammy gawked at Jane and one another. “I didn’t know Jane wore diapers,” Tammy said. “Is that why she wore those baggy clothes?” The goth girl looked at Jane's pink sneakers and considered her buckle shoes with the frilly socks. “She doesn’t. Or didn’t…” “Guys!” Jane called out pathetically. “I’m not a baby! You gotta believe me!” Raksha reached around and stuck her fingers inside the leakguards of Jane’s diaper. “Wet,” she said. “But not too wet.” Jane’s face sank. “Wet?! I’m not! I mean I’m not that wet…! I’m still a big girl! Right?” Her friends didn’t shake their heads, but they were inclined to disagree. Instead of properly terrified, the girls were more disappointed than anything else. “Go on,” the tiger lady gave Jane’s padded butt a gentle pat. “You can go play on the playground for a little bit.” Jane whirled around and clenched her fists. “I don’t wanna go on the playground!” She stamped her foot. Her new Mommy stroked her chin. “I think you’re right. Maybe a nap first.” “No!” Jane stomped her foot again. “No nap! NO! NAP! MOMMY!” She collapsed on the ground and started flailing. Plenty of bawling sounds came out, but none of them were words. The tigress seemed unimpressed. “I know, I know,” she cooed over the now insensate girl. “Mommy’s so mean for making you take a nap. Maybe this will help.” She moved the girl over to a naked, and decidedly human looking breast. Jane’s cries ceased as she latched on to the nipple and started nursing. “Now as for you two rascals,” the tiger woman stepped over to the cowering girls. “My new baby needs some time to adjust. Go play somewhere else.” Her free hand was a blur when it connected with the two of them. It should have killed them; broken both their necks. What it did this time was hit them with so much force that they were knocked sideways and at such a velocity that when they landed, they almost didn’t realize that they’d been knocked into another painting. “Ooooooh…” Tammy groaned. “That shouldn’t be possible.” “None of this should be possible,” said Nova. “People don’t go into paintings,” Tammy said, rubbing her head. “That’s the least weird part,” Nova replied. “You mean with Jane and Chloe?” Tammy asked. “Yeah. Finding out they were big diaper babies all along was weird, but I think the painting thing is worse.” Nova thought about it, and despite herself couldn’t think of a decent way to argue the point. “Where are we now?” Wherever they were was dark and mist laden, a quiet woodland scene in the middle of a moonlit night; a dark cabin being the only sign of humanity. “Maybe we should go into that cabin?” Tammy suggested. “The lights are on.” Nova yanked on her tightly braided pigtails. “That’s probably the last place we should go,” she said. “Do you want to deal with whatever’s inside?” “No.” The two crinkled into the mist, but no matter how far they got, the cabin seemed to be the same distance away, like it was following them. Or maybe, they weren’t really going anywhere. A figure in the mist caused the girls to freeze. Everything they’d met so far had been too friendly for their tastes. “Hold on,” Tammy said. “I’d know that stupid jacket anywhere.” She dashed forward. “Charlie! Charlie!” “Tammy!” Nova called out. “Wait!” Tammy chased after her brother, and Nova ran after Tammy. With a sticky, sickening ‘thuck’, the pair collided with something invisible yet sticky. The collision didn’t hurt and the phrase ‘baby proofed’ popped into Nova’s mind uninvited. It peeled off their skin sickeningly when they backed away from it. Part forcefield, part cling wrap, it prevented the girls from going any deeper into the non-existent forest without hurting them. “Look!” Tammy said, putting her palm and pressing against the extra thick chunk of reality. “It’s Charlie!” Whatever was penning them in here also seemed to be part window, too. When Nova and Tammy pressed their hands against the spot, they found they were able to peer into the trailer gallery where this whole mess had started. Charlie walked around the narrow walkway, his head turning this way and that. His body language suggested that he was more lost in his own thoughts than anything, neither looking at the painting, nor for his friends. “Hey Charlie!” Nova called out. “Over here! Look! We’re in the painting!” Tammy slapped the invisible wall too. “Charlie! Can you hear us! Get us out of here! I’ll let you call yourself the big brother!” Charlie walked on, oblivious. The barrier between this one and the real did not seem to transmit sound, only sight. So it was particularly painful watching as a brightly colored feathered peacock hand reached out from a nearby painting and groped at the air. “Turn around!” “Run!” It was too late. Charlie was grabbed by the scruff of his letterman jacket and yanked into the painting they’d just come from. Nova felt her last desperate hope go up in smoke. “NOOOOOOOOOO!” “That…that…that…!” Tammy hopped up and down. “That dummy head!” “Dummy head?” Nova repeated, feeling the word an odd choice. “All he had to do was turn around! Big dumb poopy butt dum dum! Now he’s gonna get put in a diaper and get turned into a baby! Just like Jane and Chloe!” A switch flipped on in Nova’s head. “I thought you said Jane and Chloe were always babies.” “They are,” Tammy stated with absolute certainty. “And now my poo-poo pants brother is gonna get turned into one, too.” Tammy’s eyes widened in recognition. Whether she recognized the logical fallacy she was reciting or just that her choice of swear words were incredibly juvenile, Tammy knew something was wrong. “It’s not just them! It’s us too! Look at your clothes!” Nova looked down at her black babydoll dress and her pretty black shoes with the socks that were patterned along the ankles after Victorian doilies. She made sure that hair was still nice and neat and woven into a braid. Everything seemed in place. A naughty thought entered her brain yet again, and she thought to lift the hem of her dress, even though she know she shouldn’t. Just as always, Nova was wearing an extremely comfortable diaper with cloth backing made of the finest silk so that even when she was wet and soggy and saggy, her bottom cover was still soft to the touch. DIAPER?! “We’re babies!” Nova shrieked. Somehow, her skin managed to become even paler. “This place is turning us into babies!” “I know!” Tammy shrieked back. She was no better off. Her plain, ordinary, styless clothes had mutated into a brown romper with the subtlest hints of gray and darker brown splotches. The thick diaper sagging between her legs was more covered up than her friend’s, but it was no more obscured. “Brown!” Nova pointed, thinking back to the fate they thought they’d just avoided. “Does this mean I’m a peacock?” Tammy asked, crying. “Am I a peacock baby? Wait. Peacocks are the boy birds.” “What are the girls called?’ “I DON’T KNOOOOOOW!” The creak of a cabin door and the light fluttering of wings. “There, there, Tammy dear,” A kind sounding voice said. “It’s alright. You don’t need to cry. Mommy Lumira’s here.” Nova gazed up at the pixie-like giantess with moth wings and compound eyes. She tried to scream, but all sound left her throat. “What am I?” Tammy bawled. “What am I?” For the first time in her life, Tammy Greene didn’t know the answer to something. The giantess fluttered all the way down. “You’re not a peahen, my little caterpillar.” She took a knee and reached behind her. “You’re my darling baby girl.” Tammy looked up and the first thing she saw was not the monster, but the stuffed caterpillar she’d brought with her. The last of Tammy’s willpower melted away and she looked at the stuffed toy and the oddly beautiful, oddly terrible thing that gave it to her with only love. “Mommy!” “That’s right,” the moth woman’s voice said, just above a stage whisper. “I’m your mommy and you’re my little caterpillar. She unsnapped the girl’s romper and inspected her diaper. “My my, you’re soggy!” she gushed. “I think we’ll have to switch you to extra thick nighttime diapers all the time!” Tammy’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Nighttime! Mommy! Can my friend, Makayla, spend the night with us? Pweeeeeease!” She hadn’t lasted even a week without slipping. That was okay, though. Babies like her were allowed to make mistakes and be wrong. Lumira fluttered back into the air, holding her padded prize. “I’m sorry, Tammy, but your friend needs to find her Mommy before we make any plans” Tammy hung her head. “Oh,” she said. “Okie, Mommy.” “Now to send her along to…” the moth Mommy paused and looked around. “Where’d she go?” Nova laid on the ground of the trailer gasping for hair. She’d almost suffocated clawing and scratching through that invisible barrier, but she’d gotten through. As soon as she’d realized what a baby Tammy was, the big girl had started digging her way out of the painting. She wasn’t about to let herself get blown or knocked about into another painting. Except it wasn’t ‘realized’. Not really. Tammy hadn’t been a baby before today. None of her classmates had. There was just this naggingly persistent voice that kept whispering to her that she and her friends were just babies and had been all along. The most insidious part was that voice sounded so much like her own voice. It felt so natural. So right. “I’ve gotta get a grown-up,” Nova hissed to herself. She stood up, and smoothed the dress over her diaper. “Adult,” she corrected herself. “I’ve gotta get an adult.” Much better. When you need help, always find an adult. That’s what Mommy always told her. She thought of Edith, the girl at the front of the exhibit. Edith was a little older than her! In college already! Surely, that was close enough to start looking. The goth baby waddled unsteadily towards the front. “Lady?!” she called out. “Miss Edith?! Art lady?!” Nova pushed her way past the black curtain at the entrance and froze. The college girl who’d invited them to look at the paintings hadn’t changed, but Nova’s view of her had. There’s nothing wrong, or particularly scandalous about wearing shortalls. Among young women around Nova’s age it was often quite popular in the warmer months. All the same, most shortalls for adults didn’t have snaps in the inseam. Nova knew that her host’s clothes had snappies because when she poked her head through the black curtain, she saw the other woman laying spread eagle on her desk with the snaps popped open, an absolutely vile diaper balled up on the floor, and a fresh one being taped up by what could only be described as a giant woman made of paint splotches. Something clicked into place for Nova. This whole thing, from beginning to end, had been a trap made for people like her. This place was an angler fish and Edith was the dangly little bulb meant to bring the prey in. The only reason this place was on the fringes of the fairground was likely because too many people would notice that no one was coming out in a more crowded section. “You…you…meanie!” Nova screamed in blood curdling rage. She couldn’t remember any other meaner, more accurate, but ‘inappropriate’ words. Edith turned her head to the sound of Nova’s voice.. “Huh? You’re not supposed to be out-” The other diapered girl was cut off by Nova’s ramming tackle that spilled them both off the heavy oak desk and onto the cold metal floor. “Dumb! Poopy! Meanie!” Her words were cut short with Edith’s hands wrapped around the goth girl’s neck. That did not stop the attack. They rolled around the floor for a moment, the hostess wrapping her hands around Nova’s neck, with Nova sincerely trying to claw the other girl’s eyes out. Regardless of her murderous intent, Nova was never much of a fighter. If she had been prior to today, she didn’t remember how. Within five seconds, the girls had been separated, with Nova finding herself pinned to a wall by the paint creature. “Mommy! Mommy!” Edith said. “It’s okay! It’s okay!” She held up her hands in a calming defensive gesture. “We can play nice. We can play nice.” Like hell they could! Nova struggled against the scary grown-up, not caring at the moment whether or not her brain was turning to mush. She wanted this brat dead! Something changed when she looked at Edith's face. A few of her scratches had hit home and drawn blood. Blood wasn’t seeping out of the cuts, though. Bright splotches of green, yellow, and blue paint were. Fury transmogrified into dread curiosity. “What are you?” A look to the paint creature from Edith got it to back off. It quickly opened the desk drawers and handed out plastic tea cups to the girls. Evidently it served less of a desk and more of a combination changing. Nova noticed that the paint creature’s outline looked vaguely feminine; ever shifting but always having the faint silhouette of a woman in a dress with her hair done up. A quilt was laid out and a plastic tea set was made ready. Edith wiped away the paint on her face, and her wounds immediately started to close. It looked less like she was healing and more like the top layer of her skin was seeping over the scratch marks, painting over them. “Come on,” she said to Nova. “Let’s have a tea party.” Nova took a seat on the quilt and felt a sodden squelch as soon as she did. Her eye twitched and her face flushed. She didn’t know when she’d wet her diaper, but it was obvious that she had. Several times, possibly. Edith took a sip from her empty cup. “Do you need a change? My Mommy can give you a change if you need it.” Nova gulped for real as she pretended to sip imaginary tea. “No thank you,” she fibbed. “I’m fine.” Her eyes flitted towards the entrance. Maybe she could get to it.” Edith shrugged and pretended to pour some more tea. “Fine by me. The whole point of diapers is so that babies like us can keep playing for longer.” There was so much to unpack about that statement. Unpacking it wouldn’t get Nova closer to knowledge or escape. “What are you?” she repeated herself. Edith looked mildly uncomfortable. “I’m an artist,” she said. “Or I used to be before all this.” There was a thought Nova hadn’t considered until just now. Maybe the girl who’d dragged her and her friends into this was just as much of a victim as she was. “What happened to you?” In answer to Nova’s question, Edith gave a completely different answer. “Their fairies, you know.” she said quietly. “Fae. Arcadians. Muses. Powerful beings. Responsible for inspiration, passion, and madness.” She motioned with her head towards the paint woman. “My Mommy has personally touched the greatest paintings of all time, giving them her blessing. She doesn’t talk much, but the grown-ups call her Mona when she takes me on playdates.” Nova looked over at the brightly colored mishmash, and got a friendly little wave. It didn’t stop until Nova shyly waved back. “They kidnapped you?” “Not exactly,” the girl in the shortalls sighed. Her shortalls were more of a skirt at present. Her Mommy hadn’t had the time to snap the legs back together, and Edith, Nova guessed, no longer knew howl. “They offered me a deal, and like an idiot, I took it.” Nova leaned forward and barely noticed the squish. “What kind of deal?” “Eternal youth in return for creating portals to their different realms. I was born in 1948.” Nova forgot to blink. “Yeah. I’m old enough to be your grandma. That part has a bigger effect every year I tell it.” “So what was the catch?” Nova asked. “There’s always a catch.” Edith put the tea cup down and unfolded her hands right in front of her diaper. “This. I’m a baby. Forever. And babies don’t get to decide what they do or where they go. If Mommy and her friends want to go on the road and round up more people to adopt. I have to do what they say.” She sniffled. “Because I’m a good girl.’ It turned out that even the woman’s tears were rainbow colored. “Why the scratches?” Nova asked. “Why do you bleed paint?” “They treat us like children for a reason,” Edith squeaked, her throat sounding tight. “Any human who spends long enough around a Fae will start to change and be like them. We’re growing up, Makayla. We’ll just never finish. And it’s all my fault!” She buried her face in her hand and continued to sob. There was a light clicking sound that Nova thought was the crinkling of her babyish underwear. She paid it no mind and leaned forward. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The girl frowned. “Wait. How do you know my real name?” “Because you gave it to me,” Quiet sobs turned into muffled laughter. “You put it down when you scribbled nonsense on the paper. Slipped right off ya. I picked it up!” Edith looked up and wiped away her dazzling crocodile tears. Makayla recoiled like Edith was a snake. Why couldn’t she think of herself as anything but Makayla anymore? “Why are you-? How are-?” “Like I said,” Edith giggled. “I’m a good girl. Except for one part,” she grinned. ”I lied. I knew this would happen. There was no trap.” Makayla was stunned into silence. “Do you know how much humanity sucks?” Edith went on. “We never really grow up anyways. We just act like a bunch of selfish brats as soon as someone can’t tell us what to do. We’re not really adults. We just got really good at playing dress up!” Makayla felt her hopes sink and her fear rise. “Why are you telling me this?” “Stalling,” Edith smirked. She pointed high above Makayla’s head. “Waiting for your Mommy to come getcha.” The goth baby felt herself yanked up as if she were a puppet on a string. “Gotcha!” a new voice announced. With her feet dangling, Makyla looked down and saw eight spindly legs clicking on the floor. She was turned around and gazed eight loving eyes on an otherwise human face, blinking out of unison so she would never not be looking at the girl. “Come to Mommy, sweetie!” Pure terror washed over Makayla and she made to scream, but a pacifier was jammed between her lips and pulled taught with spider silk. “Mmmmph!” “Thank you so much for keeping Makayla, company, little Edith.” The woman-spider clicked and cooed down to the artist. “I’m so glad you and your Mommy were here to stop her from toddling off. Who knows what would have happened then?” “You’re welcome, Miss Arachne,” Edith beamed like a proud little girl. The air whipped through the goth girl’s hair and the rows and rows of paintings swept by her field of vision. When the world stopped again, Makayla was looking at a portrait of a very creepy haunted house. “Home sweet home,” the spider with a woman’s face said. Makayla screamed into her pacifier, but the silk that tied it around her head held fast and her strength was no match for the. She could feel herself going and her guts starting to rumble. Her eyes darted around the old gray house with its loose floorboards and dusty cobwebs showing the decay of man’s time on this world. It was…pretty awesome actually. “It’s okay,” Mommy shushed. “You’re home now. You’re with Mommy. That’s speeding it up. It’ll all be over soon.” Over. Her life was over. The spider-woman tossed Makayla over her shoulder and started rubbing her back as if she were a fussy toddler. “Just let it all go. Let it all out.” Whether she was still something of a rebellious teen, or had just been propelled back to her terrible twos, being commanded to something made her want to do the opposite. Makayla clenched her cheeks together and grit her teeth, practically biting through the rubber bulb of the pacifier. “I knew you would be the perfect baby girl for me,” Arachne whispered to her “the moment you put your name down and I got a whiff of your essence. All except your name…” That gave Makayla pause. She stopped struggling as much. Her cheeks loosened slightly, despite herself. Simultaneously, she forgot how to get them that tight ever again. “But we can let go of names, can’t we?” her new Mommy whispered. “Fresh start? All you have to do…is to let everything go.” The words were hypnotic, weaving a spell that was too potent to resist. “Finish the transformation like a good girl. Give in. Let your true nature take its course. Get everything you don’t want out of you.” She patted Makayla’s diaper. “Put it right here for Mommy. Then when you’re done, I’ll get you a new diaper.” She paused. “And a new name. How about…Nova?” Spell complete, the embers lit inside the girl, she not only relaxed her muscles but actively pushed, forcing all the mess inside of her to fill up into the seat of her pants. As the baby did, she felt better and better. She lost her inhibitions. Her shame. Her past. Her future. Her cynicism. But the love of all things dark and macabre she kept. It would serve her well in her black nursery. The last thing that ended up ballooning her diaper with all of the mush, was the name she’d tried to get rid of since freshman year she couldn’t really remember anymore. “Good girl!” Mommy whispered to the baby changeling. “Very good baby.” She took the pacifier out of her new daughter’s mouth. “Isn’t that better?” “Yuh-huh!” Nova said. “Mommy, can I play with my friends now?” Mommy Arachne kissed her precious on the cheek. “Maybe later. First, though, I think its time to change your diaper. The first of infinite.” Nova felt a little sad, but that was mainly because she didn’t want to get her diaper changed just yet. She was just starting to enjoy the squish. A short eternity later, a most peculiar playdate was going on as a group of tiny eighteen year olds babbled and played with one another. Among them were a petite little girl who was just starting to grow her gills, a kitten baby who was going through a scratching phase, a beautiful baby boy in the most elegant dress and bonnet that complimented (not outshone) his feathers, a moth girl who was constantly squeezing her caterpillar for comfort, an eight eyed goth baby he flounced around clinging to her Mommy’s silks, and an splotchy little artist made of many different colors. “How do you guys wear these every day?” Chloe wondered, marveling at the piece of plastic between her legs. “I feel so…dry.” Her Mommy had gotten a pack of land diapers that she had to wear for trips away from her domain. “That’s kind of the point,” said Jane. Her Mommy was just glad her diaper tapes were extra strong. Jane squatted down into a pouncing position. Either that or she was pooping with her but up in the air. Maybe both? Charlie did a twirl so that his layers of skirts rustled about and opened like a flower. “Their point is to make you look cute.” “No,” Tammy said, looking down at herself. “I get it.” She poked her padding in her romper and looked worried. “How do you wear daytime diapers without being worried you’ll leak?” “You think that’s bad?” Edith joked. “You should have been around before disposables were a thing. All that cloth and safety pins and extra layers.” “I wear cloth,” Nova said. “It’s comfy.” “Cloth,” Edith corrected. “Not cloth-backed. Completely different. Yours is just like a facsimile of the old style. Not washable. Doesn’t need safety pins. It’s still basically a disposable.” A mockery of a past aesthetic? Something worse for the environment but containing the shell and vague appearance of something more wholesome and benign? All in the name of convenience?. How…wonderful! Nova giggled While the other babies played, Edith was still stuck in her own head. Break or no, there was a part of her that was always creating, ever the artiste. She’d heard a demoness, Lady Sousa, had become a patron to a coven of infantilist witches. Maybe she’d paint a portal to her next. Just imagine what she might give in return for some fresh forever children?! (The End)

War. War never changes. On October 23, 2077 the United States and China began and ended the Great War. In the span of two hours, all of human history had cultivated in the sky lighting on fire and the world being turned to cinders. But humanity did not die and join the ashes. Hundreds of Millions perished instantly. Billions died the slow agonizing death of radiation poisoning and starvation from nuclear winter. Thousands lingered on as something else entirely. But thousands more escaped the onset of holocaust by heading deep underground, into isolated and shielded facilities known as “vaults”. What these denizens did not know, could not even conceive of, was that they were merely guinea pigs for a series of unorthodox and highly unethical experiments. Vault-Tec, the company that had anticipated (perhaps even provoked) the Great War created these safe havens to preserve humanity, that is true, but they only endeavored to save what they considered the “best” or the “most necessary” sections of humanity. Everyone else was just fodder. A relative handful of vaults operated as advertised. They provided safety and shelter to those who dwelled inside, re-opened once the radiation had dropped to acceptable levels, and supplied humanity with the tools necessary to rebuild civilization. Every other vault was a grand social experiment meant to operate without concern for the physical and mental well being of its inhabitants. Vault 27 packed in double the intended occupants to see how a random selection of people would deal with dwindling and insufficient resources. Vault 95 consisted entirely of chem addicts and alcoholics who were forced to get clean…just to see what happened five years later when a massive cache was introduced. Vault 11 forced its occupants to sacrifice one of their own each year under threat that they would all die if they did not comply. And then there was Vault 159… ****************************************************************************************** Rebecca woke up early that morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed as Coddlesworth often said. Though she didn’t really understand that expression- her eyes didn’t glow and she didn’t have a tail to wag-but she liked the sound of it. She liked it so much that she decided to play with it in her mouth a little bit while waiting for Coddlesworth to get her up for the day. “Bright eyed,” she said. “Briiiiiiiigh-tuuuuuugh! Eeeeeeyeeeee-duh! Bushy. Buuuuusssssshhhh. Sh-sh-sh-sh! Tail-uh-duh! Tay-tay-tay-tay-tay-tay!” She stopped to make a few spit bubbles and kept on babbling, all while batting at the Nuka-Cola mobile dangling from the head of her crib. Rebecca could have clobbered the dangling soda bottles and rocket ships if she just sat up slightly, but that wasn’t as much fun. It was more amusing to graze them with the very tips of her fingers and make them make the music sound off. What if there was a place with all the zip of Nuka-Cola? Wouldn’t that be the cheer-cheer-cheeriest place in all the world? Where the rivers flow with Quantum and the mountaintops are fizz? With fun and games and rides for all the moms and pops and kids? Played slowly, it was a soothing lullaby to drift off to sleep to after a rousing day of play. Played fast, it was Rebecca’s ideal wake up call to start said day of play. That’s why it was her favorite song. When she was smaller, she’d cried and screamed until Coddlesworth and all the other Mr. Handies and Miss Nannies taught her every single word. What was a ‘mom’, anyway? She assumed that it was another word for soda, like ‘pop’, but she wasn’t sure. “A vacation that refreshes,” she sang quietly to herself. “A trip you won’t forget. A park with every minimum acceptable safety standard met.” She didn’t know what most of the words meant, but that didn’t stop her from saying it. ‘Vacation’ was particularly fun to say. She didn’t know what a ‘bongo-bongo-bongo’ was or a ‘congo’, but liked singing that song, too. Especially the part at the end. “Civilization! I’ll stay right heeeeeeeere!” That was also her favorite song. The door to Rebecca’s nursery whooshed open and Coddlesworth hovered inside. Three hundred years prior, the floating mechanical octopus would have been something terrible to behold; an abomination of science spitting in the face of nature. Approximately, two-hundred years ago, it was an exciting cutting edge piece technology that created so many opportunities and convenience. But Rebecca had known Coddlesworth and his manufactured ilk all of her life, and thus the robots that cared for her and her playmates were natural and normal. Rebecca didn’t even think of Coddlesworth as a ‘robot’. To her, he and every other person who took care of her was a Grown-Up. “Good morning, Miss Rebecca,” Coddlesworth said through his speakers. “Had a restful night’s sleep, I trust?” The Grown-Up wasted no time in going over to Rebecca’s dresser and fetching powder, washcloths, a onesie, and a fresh diaper. All part of the morning routine. “Yuh-huh,” Rebecca nodded and smiled up at the floating ball of chrome. Coddlesworth always made sure to keep at least one retractable eye on her when he was changing her. “Excellent!” Coddlesworth replied. “Then let’s get you changed, shall we?” Rebecca laid still as Coddlesworth lowered the side of her crib and unbuttoned her blue Vault-Tec footie pajamas all the way down starting at the shoulder and slipped them off her legs. The second the first fiber of fabric hit the hamper metallic tendrils and pincers gently attacked the safety pins holding her diaper together. “Oh dear!,” Coddlesworth tutted. “It looks like someone was dreaming of going for a swim!” This was Coddlesworth’s way of emphasizing just how close to leaking Rebecca had been. Rebecca playfully popped her thumb in her mouth and giggled in reply. She sucked and giggled on her digit while her metallic caregiver cleaned her sensitive and delicate areas with a specially warmed washcloth “Thumb out of your mouth, Miss Rebecca,” Coddlesworth said. “That’s what your binky is for, dear.”. “Coddlesworth?” Rebecca asked while her ankles were crossed and her legs were raised for her so that the soaked diaper could be removed. “Am I an educated savage?” “What?” Coddlesworth replied. “Where did you…?” There was a sense of pause in the Mr. Handy’s voice but his mechanical arms had no hesitancy in disposing of the soggy bit diaper and slipping a nice thick clean one beneath the girl. “Oh, that song,” he said. “I really do disagree with the decision to let that so-called radio station be broadcast in the main playroom, but the Overseer saw no reason to object to the entertainment. I prefer a good old fashioned nursery rhyme, don’t you?” Rebecca had kept nibbling on her thumb while her caregiver dusted clean smelling powder on her caramel colored skin. “You didn’t answer my question.” “And you’re still chewing on your thumb, silly girl.” Rebecca pulled her thumb out of her mouth and whined “Coddleswoooooorth!” “Fine, fine,” Coddlesworth said. “No need to get so fussy.” With precision that could best be described as machine driven, Coddlesworth pulled the fresh diaper up between the girl’s legs and started to gently fasten it on with safety pins. “No, Miss Rebecca, you are not an educated savage. Quite the opposite, frankly.” “What am I?” This question Rebecca already knew the answer to, but she loved hearing it. With the dry diaper fastened on, the machine was free to pull Rebecca’s prone form up into a sitting position. “I think the answer should be quite obvious, Miss Rebecca,” Coddlesworth replied. He waited until he pulled the clean Vault-Tech onesie over Rebecca’s head and unbunched the sleek yet breathable waterproof fabric down over her breasts “You are a precious, adorable, baby girl!” “Yaaaaaay!” Rebecca clapped her hands in celebration. “Not just any baby girl either,” Coddlesworth announced. “You’re a birthday girl as well! Congratulations!” A bit of confetti shot up into the air and. Rebecca clapped her hand to her cheeks in delighted surprise. “I am?” She started bouncing on her fluffy bottomed seat. “How old am I? How old am I?” Coddlesworth gathered up Rebecca’s long black hair and started bunching it up together into two bushy pigtails tied in yellow ribbon. “Assuming my internal chronometer is still functioning, and I’m sure that it is, you are twenty-one years old today!” The baby girl grinned with pride. “That’s the oldest I’ve been so far!” “Quite right,” Coddlesworth agreed. “It seems like just yesterday I was playing peekaboo to make you laugh and giving you a nice warm ba-ba before naptime to help you drift off to sleep. “Coddlesworth!” Rebecca laughed. “That was yesterday!” “Oh,” Coddleswroth remarked. “So it was!” Specially designed reinforced metal tendrils cradled the girl and lifted her out of her crib. “Let’s get you some breakfast, birthday girl, then we’ll start our day of play!” ************************************************************************************************ Samantha woke up on the wrong side of the bed. She didn’t know what that meant, because she’d never seen one, but she knew it had something to do with sleep since the Grown-Ups used ‘bed’ and ‘sleep’ interchangeably. Still, it begged the question: How could somebody sleep wrong? The light brown, almost red haired, little girl wasn’t sure, but she felt she’d accomplished the feat of operator error. She’d tossed and turned in her crib all night and no amount of repositioning or rolling over helped her doze off. Some silly stubborn part of her didn’t want to call out for help and cry. It’s not like she’d been sick or had a bad dream. Her toys hadn’t been moving and there weren’t radroaches under her crib. She just couldn’t get comfy. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” Poppy cooed down at her. “Did you have a practically perfect visit to slumberland Miss Samantha?” Samantha grumbled something incoherent as Poppy’s warm washcloth bathed her backside. She rubbed her eyes and the first thing that came into focus was her own crossed ankles hoisted high towards the ceiling. “I think someone must have really enjoyed getting their forty winks to sleep so long.” Samantha grumbled a bit more, while the old diaper was swapped out for the new one. “It’s been ages since you’ve slept through your morning change!” Samantha wanted to roll over and go back to sleep, but she was literally not in a position to do so. “Poppeeeeeee,” she whined. “Staaaaaaahp!” One prehensile camera-eye lowered itself and stared directly at her bare bottom. “Oh dear, is that the beginnings of a rash I detect? Someone must have made those stinkies late last night in their sleep.” Samantha assumed the Miss Nanny was talking about her. Maybe that’s why she had been having such trouble sleeping, she supposed. She knew there was something uncomfortable keeping her up, but an itchy bottom hadn’t occurred to the girl. There had been a time when she was two or three…maybe four…when Samantha could tell she was making stinkies in her diaper, but that was a distant memory. At the time, she thought she heard the Grown-Ups say something about ‘Poppy Training’ but that didn’t sound right to her. Anyways, that was a long time ago, and like a good baby Samantha’s brain had long forgotten any correlation to how her body felt and how her diaper felt a few minutes later. Samantha winced out of her memory while the egg colored Grown-Up smeared thick white cream up and down her backside. Her nose wrinkled at the gross chemical smell. She hated the smell of diaper rash cream. The smell of a stinky diaper was almost preferable in that at least it was natural. “Poppy?” she asked, “Can you remember to use extra baby powder?” Anything to cover up that unnatural chemical scent. Dutifully, Poppy shook an extra cloud of the sweet smelling stuff all over Samantha’s rashy bottom. “Hmmm,” she said as she lowered Samantha’s hips down to the thick fresh padding. “It seems the irritation isn’t just on your bottom. Were you up late playing naughty games last night, Miss Samantha? Is that why you didn’t cry out?” Samantha blushed all over. Come to think of it, she had been playing the naughty games that the Grown-Ups didn’t want her playing, rubbing between her legs all the way through the layers and layers of jammies and thick diapers. “Maybe…” she admitted. “I was just trying to get to sleep.” That part was true. Samantha always felt good and sleepy after she got to play her naughty games with Mr. Buzzy every two weeks. But it was too late for Mr. Buzzy, so she did it herself and pretended her hands were Mr. Buzzy. “Oh never mind, dear,” Poppy said. From the sound of her voice, and the way her octopus eyes blinked and waggled back and forth, she would have been shaking her head if she were a kid. But Samantha also knew her caregiver would be smiling, too. “Little girls will be little girls.” She finished diapering Samantha, nice and thick so that she probably wouldn’t need a change until at least naptime, and dressed her in her regulation Vault 159 onesie, same as everyday else. “Oh, and I know I’m practically perfect in every way,” Poppy said, putting the finishing touches on Samantha’s hair with a loose and comfortable ponytail. “But lest I forget. Happy birthday, darling!” Samantha woke up, instantly, chasing all the sleepiness and grumpiness away. “It’s my birthday?!” She sat up a little straighter. “Yes darling, you’re a whole year older and none the wiser!” The way she said it made Samantha feel good all over and bubble up. “How old am I?” “It’s been twenty-one years since Mr. Stork delivered you and your little friends to Vault 159!” “Oh my gosh!” Samantha clapped. She was going to have to play extra hard today! Mr. Stork tended to deliver babies in bunches of bundles all at once to Vault 159, so at any given point five to ten different babies all had the same birthday. What none of the babies understood was that this was fairly unusual outside of the vault. What none had any reason to suspect was that Mr. Stork and Mr. Buzzy were very good friends and had an intimate working relationship. ************************************************************************************************************ “HAAAAAAPPY BIRTHDAY TOOOOO YOU!” The Grown-Ups finished warbling the birthday song as the last empty breakfast bowl was taken away. All the other kids who didn’t have the pointy birthday hats on clapped and cheered for the ones who did. Rebecca leaned back in her highchair and let out a hearty belch, her matching dark blue bib catching some oatmeal and prune laced spittle. Samantha fiddled with the elastic string under her chin. Other Grown-Ups started releasing kids from their highchairs and shooing them off to play rooms. Those kids, both older and younger than today’s birthday batch, crawled and toddled as their full tummies and (for now) empty diapers allowed them. For Rebecca, Samantha, and their agemates, there were a few more steps to attend to. “Because we want your special day to be extra special,” Coddlesworth said, “we decided to give you your presents early!” “Yes,” Poppy said, her various arms filled with gift wrapped boxes. “Let you have the entire day to enjoy them instead of waiting till after dinner and cake.” “CAKE?!” a cry rose up from over half-a-dozen highchairs. Despite having gone through this ritual over twenty times now, and witnessed it even more, the fact that they got cake AND presents excited the boys and girls just as much as if it were the first. Coddlesworth grabbed a few more boxes. “Oh, I told you not to mention the see-ay-kay-ee.” Neither Rebecca nor Samantha knew what see-ay-kay-ee was, but they would have leapt over their feeding trays if it meant they could get cake. “Oh hush now” Poppy replied. “Everything that can be done should have at least a little bit of fun. You’re being neurotic, dear.” “Well I never! The Overseer will be hearing about thi-” “Not in front of the bee-ay-bee-eye-eez,” Poppy quickly interjected. The babies were already starting to wiggle in their seats. Despite having very full tummies, they were eyeing the gift wrapped boxes like hungry puppies after a bone. Samantha and Rebecca, in particular, were fighting to keep their smiles up. They hated it when the grown-ups argued. Even if Coddlesworth didn’t like new things and Poppy tended to talk down to everyone. “Quite right.” Coddlesworth sighed. “We have more important things to do than to peck at each other like a couple of old hens.” A beat. “LIKE PASS OUT BIRTHDAY PRESENTS!” Another cheer went up and the Grown-Ups started handing out presents. One by one, the gift boxes were passed out to each of the twenty-one year old babies, each one carefully wrapped and done up with a bow. It was hard for Samantha because she was the last in the row to get a gift. It was even harder for Rebecca because she was first. “Remember, dears,” Poppy reminded, “Good little boys and girls wait to open up their gifts until everyone has one.” When finally everyone had a present laying on her tray, Coddlesworth gave the signal.“Three…Two…One,...GO!” Had the falling scene consisted of anything other than wrapping paper and cardboard, it wouldn’t have been appropriate for children of any age. “A dolly!” Rebecca cooed as she pulled the most adorable dolly out of her box. It was the cutest little ragdoll with a blue onesie on it just like hers, and a big puffy diaper pinned on just like hers, and it had beautiful blue. Rebecca fell in love instantly and hugged it so hard that if its tummy were as full of oatmeal and prunes as hers, the dolly would have needed a change right away. “A box?” Samantha said with a frown. Who put a box inside of another box and called it a present? “Coddlesworth! Poppy!” Samantha started to whine. “I think my present is…” The lid of the polished oaken box popped up and Samantha’s face froze. A little blonde boy rose from out of the box, wearing a suit similar to Samantha’s onesie, except it covered his arms and legs too. He sat in front of a black piano, playing it while the pedestal he was on slowly spun in a circle. Both the Vault Boy and the piano were so tiny that its jaunty little tune came out in tiny tinkling chimes. “Ooooooooo!” Samantha gasped, mesmerized. She didn’t know the words to the song, but loved it all the same. In olden days, a glimpse of stocking Was looked on as something shocking But now, God knows… Anything goes. Rebecca knew the words. It was her favorite song. She stared longingly and sang along with the little Vault Boy on his piano. “Good authors too who once knew better words, now only use four-letter words writing prose…anything goes.” Truly, it was her favorite song! Samantha turned her head towards the sound of the singing and gasped. That dolly that Rebecca was squeezing! It had blue button eyes just like Samantha and its yarn hair almost perfectly matched Samantha’s reddish brownish mop! It even had the same dark blue onesie and poofy diaper underneath! It was her but in dolly form, and Samantha fell instantly in love. Neither tot realized their arms were reaching out for the other’s present and that only distance was stopping them from getting what they wanted more than anything in the world. “Alright kiddos!” Coddlesworth announced. “Now that we’ve got all of that present business out of the way, let’s shuffle off to a playroom and party down as they say! Safely and responsibly of course!” he added. Even after the trays from their highchairs were taken away and they were placed down on the kitchen floor, Rebecca and Samantha were too busy staring greedily at one another’s gifts to notice that the group was toddling slowly but surely away from them. “Come along my little ducklings,” Poppy coaxed them back into the present despite their presents presence. “You can play with your birthday gifts as much as you like after we get you all tucked away and out from underfoot.” She gestured with a tendril to the other, less personable Grown-Ups who were already beginning to clean up after the babies; washing dishes, mopping floors, and whatnot. The girls eyed one another’s toys, adjusted their party hats, then each other, and nodded silently. The only thing moving faster than their bare legs were their minds. Rebecca wanted Samantha’s music box. Samantha wanted Rebecca’s dolly. And being twenty-one year old toddlers, neither one even considered trading. War. War never changes… ******************************************************************************************************* “Alright kiddos,” Coddlesworth announced. “Who’s up for a good old-fashioned game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey?” Hands shot in the air immediately and a chittering of “Me-me-me-me-me-me-me!” filled the nursery style play room. “Excellent!” Coddlesworth said. “That’s the spirit lads and lasses! Now which good little birthday boy or girl should I pick first?” Immediately hands went down and every baby sat up as straight as they could, looking positively angelic. “Oh this is going to be very difficult,” Poppy noted, scanning all of the toddlers suddenly on their best possible behavior. “But I think…Rebecca is being particularly good.” Rebecca beamed and cheered for her own good fortune. Immediately, all pretense was abandoned and every other baby hung their heads in disappointment and let out an “Awwwww!’ The sound of a certain best song in the entire universe caused Rebecca’s ears to wiggle. No longer worrying about going first, Samantha had decided to occupy herself by re-opening the delightful music box. Rebecca’s face started to heat up in jealousy and she squeezed her dolly with all her might. Suddenly, she had an idea. “Actually, Poppy,” she said in her best good-girl voice. “Can I give up my turn and give it to Samantha as a present?” Samantha’s mouth opened in honest to goodness surprise. “Really?” she asked. “Really really!” Rebecca promised, crossing her fingers behind her back. Samantha was overjoyed at getting to go first. That is, until she saw Rebecca’s new dolly. That was the present she actually wanted from Rebecca. She’d take what she could get, however, and climbed to her feet. “How do I play?” “It’s very simple, Miss Samantha,” Coddlesworth said, wasting no time in fastening the blindfold over the girl’s eyes. “First we blind fold you like so. Then we spin you around like so until you’re good and dizzy!” Samantha turned and turned with the shiny metal Grown-Up’s guidance again and again until she was so wobbly she might as well have been one of those funny inflatable clowns that she bopped around. “Whoah-whoah-whoah!” All the other boys and girls giggled. “I did it!” “Not quite, luv,” Poppy corrected. Samantha found something long and pointy with a floppy end placed carefully into the palm of her hand. “Now you have to pin the tail on the donkey.” Due to her outfit and general lack of coordination, Samantha was already fairly wobbly. Add in the spinning and blindness, and Samantha might as well be just learning to walk all over again. “Go Sam-Sam!” Rebecca cheered. “You can do it!” “Oh that’s right,” Coddlesworth remembered. “Do cheer her on and give her hints!” “Go Sammy!” “Left! Left!” “No! Your other left! Haha!” “Up! Up! WHOAH! Dooooown!” “Haaaaa! You’re going the wrong way, now! Spin around again!” All of this happy noise was perfect cover for Rebecca’s true goal. With the shouting and laughter filling up everyone’s ears, no one could hear the joyful tune of Samantha's music box. When the Missus Ned McLean, God bless her Can get Russian reds to yes her Then I suppose… Anything goes. Which, of course, meant that no one heard it when Rebecca closed the wooden box, dragged it to herself, and used it as a chair for her dolly. She might have felt bad about the trick, but it was like the song said. Anything goes. “Ooops!” Coddlesworth said. “Terribly sorry, Miss Samantha, but the tail most certainly doesn’t go there!” Samantha lifted up her blindfold and laughed so hard she didn’t notice her diaper getting wetter. How silly! If donkeys had their tails there they wouldn’t need to blink! “Go sit down, dear. Now who else is being a good little birthday boy and girl so that they can try pinning one on!” Zigging and zagging from dizziness, a very giggly girl fell to her knees and crawled the rest of the way back to her spot on the carpet. She wondered if the little Vault Boy on his tiny piano got dizzy from all the spinning. It probably wasn’t fast enough, she knew, but she thought she could get a good idea if she stared at him a little… Where was her music box?! Samantahs lifted her rump and looked underneath her. Then she spread her legs extra wide and looked between them to make sure she hadn’t misplaced it. Her present had been right in front of her before she stood up and then…and then…and then Rebecca… Rebecca! Samantha leaned over and stared at Rebecca, clapping as the next kid got blindfolded and cheering him on. The other girl’s dolly was sitting on a wooden box. Samantha’s wooden box! “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Samantha cried and pointed at the thief. Crocodile tears flowed freely and the little dangly ball in the back of her throat jiggled while she banged. No fair! No fair! Samantha was going to do that too! Rebecca had just thought of it, first! “Oh dear!” Poppy said, hovering up close. “Samantha, darling, what’s wrong!” “BECKY TOOK MY…MY…” “Your what, poppet?” A moment of terrible inspiration struck Samantha. “REBECCA TOOK MY DOLLY!” “What?!” Rebecca gasped, clutching her present even tighter. “It’s not your dolly! It’s mine! I got it as a birthday present!” “Nuh-uh!” Samantha lied. “It’s my dolly! Coddlesworth and Poppy put it in my highchair special! That’s why it looks like me! Her name is Samantha Junior!” “It! Is! Not!” Rebecca gasped. “Her name is…is…I hadn’t named her yet, but she’s still my dolly!” Rebecca cursed her rotten luck. She should have hidden her precious dolly first and started crying like Samantha had stolen the music box. Samantha had just thought of it first… The floating Grown-Ups turned a camera eye on each other, keeping the other on one of the bickering toddlers at any given time. “I don’t remember who I gave what to,” Coddlesworth said. “Do you?” “Goodness no,” Poppy whispered. “Do you know how many birthdays we’ve had in the last two hundred years? My servos have more important things to keep track of.” They both turned their attention to the birthday girls sending death glares each other’s way. “I hate it when they’re going through their terrible twenties.,” Coddlesworth moaned. “Me too,” Poppy agreed. “Let’s just give Samantha the doll and go from there.” “But it’s not hers!” Rebecca objected. “Now, now.” Poppy said. “I won’t have any tantrums on your birthday. Not unless you need a turn on the naughty stool.” The naughty stool wasn’t nearly as fun as the naughty game. Reluctantly, Rebecca gave up her brand new dolly and watched in silent agony when it was given over to Samantha. “Oh Samantha Junior!” Samantha gushed, giving it a cuddle like it was really her dolly. “I missed you so much! Don’t you ever leave me again!” Both girls had gotten the gift they had really wanted. Both of them had done so using misdirection and deceit. That should have settled the matter and they considered it even. But as far as the big babies were concerned, this was war. And war? War never changes. *************************************************************************************** “Ninety-Nine! One hundred!” The boy with his hands covering his face shouted. “Ready or not, here I come!” “Master Brian,” Coddlesworth said. “You’re supposed to count to one-hundred and one-two-skip-a-few doesn’t quite pass muster if you know what I mean.” The boy shook his head and giggled. “Nuh-uh.” “Oh very well,” Coddlesworth said. “We’ll settle for a slow twenty. Now repeat after me.” Pin the tail on the donkey had ended, and a rousing game of Duck-Duck-Goose had followed. Unfortunately, both girls had had the same idea and ran with their ill-gotten presents when it was their turn to dash around the circle. Hide and seek, however, presented new opportunities and both girls, normally the best of playmates, scoured the nursery for not one, but two hiding places. One for them and one for the birthday present that they hadn’t gotten. By the time Brandon reached ten, Rebecca had found the perfect spot for her new music box. Likewise Samantha had found the perfect hiding place for Samantha Junior. “Nineteen,” Coddlesworth said. “Twenty! Alright, now. Off you go!” Thus, while Brian was searching in toy boxes and looking under blankets, Rebecca and Samantha slinked around, searching for each other’s stash. “If I were Rebecca,” Samantha whispered to herself, slinking along the wall, being extra still so that Brian didn’t notice her, “Where would I put my music box.” She frowned. “I mean my music box, not my music box…” her nose wrinkled. She knew what she meant, that was the most important part. She bumped her head against a bookshelf, with an audible “oof!” and then had to hold her breath when Brian whipped his head around. The search might have continued, but bumping the bookshelf had knocked something slightly loose; or rather, open. When Rockefeller still can hoard enough money To let Max Gordon produce his shows… Anything goes “Huh?” Samantha said, peeking around and taking a much closer look at the books on the shelf. Turned on its side and crammed between a copy of ‘You’re S.P.E.C.I.A.L’. and ‘Grognak The Baby Barbarian’ was Samantha’s music box, jostled slightly ajar so that the little Vault Boy inside was playing his piano again. “Got it!” she whispered. At last, her real birthday present was in her grasp. Now all she had to do was sneak back to where she’d left her dolly and hide it there! Everything was going according to plan. Meanwhile, Rebecca was shimmying on the carpet, looking high and low (mostly low) for where Samantha might have hid her dolly. Not her dolly, she reminded herself, but her dolly. “Where is Samantha anyways?” Rebecca asked herself. She covered her face so that Brian would think she was invisible while he passed by, then started carefully scouting the room. Brian was stomping around the room yelling “I found you!” at everything he saw. Amanda was hiding in the toybox. Rachel was disguising herself with a lamp shade. Johnny was being a Stealth Boy with his hands over his face. Samantha was very very small and laying on top of the changing table. “Wait a minute,” Rebecca said to herself. “If that’s Samantha getting a diaper change, why isn’t a Grown-Up helping her?” The realization hit her like a megaton bomb! “That’s not Samantha!” She ran over to the changing table with full speed and snatched the dolly up, giving it a hug. “I’m never losing you again,” she promised. At last, her real birthday present was in her grasp. Now all she had to do was sneak back to where she’d left her music box and hide it there! She might have felt bad for Samantha , but just like her favorite song said: “Into each life some rain must fall.”. “Hey!” A voice called out. “Drop my dolly!” Rebecca spun on her heel. “Your dolly! It’s my…!” Rebecca’s guts started to rumble. Her morning oatmeal was catching up to her. “My…my…my…” Rebecca stopped talking, bent her knees, started grunted, and stared out into the middle distance, barely aware of her surroundings while the back of her diaper expanded and her onesie struggled to contain the oncoming mudslide. “Your what?” Samantha started to ask. Suddenly it dawned on her. With lightning fast hands she snatched the Samantha Junior out of Rebecca’s thieving hands! “Poppy! Coddlesworth!” Samantha crowed. “Rebecca’s making a stinky and needs a change!” Samantha might not have realized when she was straining and adding her own bits of fallout into her pants, but the clever girl easily recognized it when another baby was doing it right in front of her! Music box and dolly acquired, Samantha hurriedly ran away, snickering back over her shoulder. “Oh dear!” Poppy said, patting Rebecca’s mushy backside. “Where do you put it all?” As if awakening from a trance or coming down from a dose of jet, Rebecca blinked and became aware of her surroundings a tad too late. “But..but…but…!” “Yes,” Poppy agreed, leading the girl back over to the changing table she’d just recently visited. “Let’s get yours up on that changing table, young lady. I won’t have you getting a rash.” Rebecca grimaced, picturing having that yucky ointment Poppy loved smeared all over her bum. That and the idea of Samantha getting both of her birthday presents filled her with a rage she hadn’t felt since the last time a Grown-Up had told her no. She slipped the surly bonds of the Grown-Ups metallic appendages and charged straight for her retreating playmate. So sure of her victory was she, that Samantha forgot that she was supposed to be playing hide and seek. “Found you!” Brian pointed and yelled, finally correct in his accusation. “You’re it!” “Am not!” “Are too!” “Am not!” “Are too!” Rebecca caught up to her and grabbed for the dolly. “That’s my dolly!” Rebecca said. “Give it back!” Samantha clutched both toys to her chest. “No! She’s mine! Get your own birthday dolly!” “I’ve got a yo-yo” Brian offered. “Do you wanna play with my yo-yo?” “You stay out of this!” The girls said in unison, sending the boy into a fit of tears.” Rebecca grabbed for the doll, but Samantha, in equal stubbornness held tight; each girl gripping the bit of cloth and fluff with both hands and pulling as hard as they could. “Mine!” “Mine!” “Mine!” “Girls! Girls!” Coddlesworth tried to intervene. “That isn’t very ladylike,” Poppy scolded. But neither twenty-one year old toddler was capable of listening at the moment. The music box fell from Samantha’s grasp, the last chorus of Rebecca’s favorite song tinkling for a precious few notes before crashing onto the ground, the little Vault Boy’s head coming clean off and the music going silent. Now neither would hear that wonderful song again until the next time it played on the playroom radio! “NOOOOOOOO!” They yelled in unison over the loss of one precious present. But neither one was willing to give up their claim on the dolly. If anything, each girl only gripped harder. And so it was with sickening rip that stitches came loose and cotton puffs that were never meant to see open air spilled out into the light of day. Both girls fell backwards, tripping over their own heels and landing onto their thoroughly padded backsides. Rebecca landed and the shock sent her bladder into overdrive, spraying into her thirsty diaper so fast that not even the advanced fabric could soak up the liquid quickly enough, causing her to leak and dribble down her thighs. Samantha landed and kept sliding as her momentum sent her on her back with her legs up in the air. She didn’t know what happened next, only that she felt incredible shock and relief as one-by-one the poppers on her onesie snapped open, the mass her body pushed into her diaper causing it to expand well past the point of no return. The Great War of 2077 lasted two hours. The Great War of 2287 less than two minutes. One resulted in nuclear annihilation. The other ended with two adult babies being put in time-out for five whole minutes. The scope of each conflict couldn’t be more different. But they were still very similar in some respects. Both sides wanted everything and lost it all. And by the end of the hour, both girls had forgotten why they were mad and were cuddling with each other during naptime, not even missing or caring that they’d be without a particular toy until their birthday next year. They’d truly learned nothing. But that’s war. And war? War never changes. But diapers do… (The End?)

Captain’s log: Entry 440 Name: Ellen Huxley Date: Indeterminate Mission Status: Accomplished As I write this most pivotal and anticipated entry, I can only think of pitying all the foolish souls who had doubted me over the years. History has a habit of giving its geniuses occasions to rise to, as well as obstacles to overcome. So, in my ocean of piety and wisdom, I extend my hand in forgiveness. Do not wallow in your foolishness. It only served to make my story better. My story began one crisp Autumn morning, a day before I was born. However, going back that far will take far too much time. The wonders of my upbringing will no doubt be covered in both the novelization and feature-film of my life story, both of which destined for critical acclaim in themselves. For brevity’s sake, I will summarize the important parts. I was born to a loving family of two humble enterprise-owners/entrepreneurs. I made top marks in all my classes, only threatening to fall short in supplementary subjects like gym or art. My success continued into college, where I missed making valedictorian by two points (one of many injustices I will not be able to elaborate on). I had been accepted into my country’s esteem space program, thanks solely to my natural wit and tenacity. Those quick to slander my good name might suggest that it was instead due to my father funding the program with literal bags of money. My father is simply a man who cares deeply about the development of space science. The fact that he was unable to name a single astronaut over the course of several interviews, you may cite, is completely irrelevant. It is simply another vicious slander tactic propagated by my life’s most persistent villains: jealous poor people. My time spent learning and training for the space program was unforgettable. Unforgettable, and rather boring. While I choose not to bore you with excess details (you are welcome) know that my supervisor always used me to set an example for others, which is always a good thing. I bet you are raring to hear the exciting accounts from my space voyage and interdimensional travels. Well, I was just getting to that part, so calm down already. My supervisors implored me to be careful during my first solo mission, but I knew what I was doing. They told me to not travel past a set range of lightyears, but I knew better. They continued to blather on about protocols and safety hazards and other boring babbles that didn’t concern me at the time. I was out looking for discovery, not safe test flights. That became much easier when I put my supervisors’ communications on mute, not letting the background noise drown out my train of thought. Admittedly, this next portion of the story is not one I am proud of. I know you’re simply dying to know how I came about the discovery of interdimensional travel. With a heavy heart, I must admit that the circumstances of that discovery are—for lack of better terms—foggy and random. Shortly after muting my supervisors, I found myself well beyond the measured range of distance that, upon a gut dropping reflection, they might have warned me about. To clarify, I was not lost in space. More accurately, I was temporarily directionally challenged in space. I felt the air in my lungs become tight. I didn’t even have the air to shriek in panic. Not in panic. In a controlled and dignified spree of emotions. I had everything under control. And, in my spree of controlled emotions, I must have hit an unfamiliar combination of important buttons. Before I knew it, I had activated the hyper drive—or perhaps the warp drive—I had activated some type of drive, and the ship was rocketing off deeper in the unknowns of space. Admittedly, not the best way to open space journey. I awoke in a daze, my head rattling like loose change in a bum’s coffee can. What was left of the computer’s display showed the atmosphere was breathable outside. I suited up and took one small step onto this strange new world. And that was when I met them. I had not even made it five feet outside of my ship before I made my first discovery. A pair of long, firm, gigantic legs. After that, I made my second discovery. The equally gigantic woman they belonged to. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by more women of equally tower-like stature. All eyes were on me—a trend not too different from my daily life. Even in the far reaches of space, my greatness was as plain as the hairs on my head. I suppose these are the consequences of being so special. I don’t believe these people have a name. At least, not one that translates easily. Not one I’m liable to give. So, using what I know now, I give them one myself. I will dub them the Amazons, as decided upon right now, as I write this. Not to be named after that forest that I read about that one time in middle school. No, it is a reference to those tall ladies that I read about that one time in a comic book in middle school. They look damningly similar to us. Only, as stated before, much taller. In fact, to the untrained eye, someone like me might even be confused as one of their children, as preposterous as that may sound. Unsurprisingly, they had strength to match their size. They lifted my rocket ship like a child’s toy off the sidewalk. After that, one of the massive maidens proceeded to lift me up like said child. When I felt the giant woman’s hand start to wander to places it dare not go, I responded with a few choice words. More than a few, actually. Tone must be a universal language, because she quickly pulled her hand back. I turned my head to see what the other giant space ladies were doing. The ones holding my ship seemed rather…unimpressed? Like my craft was as flavorless as yesterdays’ tomatoes. An idea crossed my mind, sometime after that, that I was not the first traveler from the stars to come their way. Perhaps my stellar entrance had some fierce competition from the past. To think, other lifeforms with space travel technology that put us to shame. It was rather disheartening to think about. Now, based on media you may have consumed before reading this, you may think that a species of ultra-intelligent, ultra-powerful, giant aliens are something to fear. But I assure you, as you read on, you’ll find that the Amazons are nothing to run from. Even if you tried…sorry, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me continue my case. At heart, the Amazons are a gracious and curious people. After our initial meeting, they immediately took me in and examined me for what felt like hours. On that note, hours are apparently not a standardized unit of time here. I am still unsure how the Amazons record time here. This planet seems to have a regular day and night cycle, albeit one the looks to run longer than our own. I have since developed a new method for tracking time, which I will delve into later. After a thorough examination, I was carried off to meet with the leader of these people. Now, while I am an expert on many subjects, architecture was not one of them, alien or otherwise. Still, I could tell this place was important. The building was like a fairy-tale castle that was made with modern sleek sensibility. I am not a fan of the term “futuristic”. How can you capture an aesthetic choice that does not exist yet? But everything about the Amazons screams science-fiction, leaving me at a loss for words. It is truly an indescribable place, and you will just have to see it for yourself. I met with the queen, and she was immediately enamored by me. She was quick to take me into her arms and shower me with affection. She smiled brightly, bombarded me with kisses, hugging me tightly against her very, very large bosom. I can confirm that love at first sight is very real. Even if it was being shared by an interdimensional alien queen and a prodigal space explorer. In hindsight, it should have raised a red flag when the queen treated me, a foreign invader, like one of her kin. If my government had an alien land on our proverbial doorstep, we would have squashed it like a fly on the wall. Yet the Amazons took me in instantly and insistently. Oh well. Analyzing afterthoughts does me no good now. I doubt the end result would be any different. From that day on, I never left the queen’s side. Not that she would have let me. The queen had an eye for quality. She always had me wrapped around her giant fingers, like a precious jewel. I had a front row seat to all the major happenings of Amazon society. True, I could not understand most of it. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was the queen’s special little space explorer. I was hand-fed the most extravagant meals by the castle staff. When the queen saw it fit, I was strolled around the castle grounds and even on the streets of the Amazon people. All eyes were on me, and I would not have had it any other way. The Amazons had made a room for me, instantaneously. On my first day, the queen and her men took me to an empty room. A blank canvas. They fashioned me with a flashy-looking helmet, which beeped and hummed as stereotypically as a sci-fi device could. I stood there, while the queen held a tablet, quickly tapping away at a screen whose contents were invisible from my angle. The queen squealed with excitement, while I was left sitting in quiet confusion. I still remember how excited she looked on that day. How her smile threatened to shine brighter than the room itself. And the room did shine. It glowed like the inside of a lightbulb, engulfing everything in a white flash. I was unable to tell if it bothered the Amazons as much as it did me. I had to keep my eyes shut to stop my corneas from being burned. I do know that the queen reacted before me, as I heard her let out an excited squeal. When I finally opened my eyes, I could not spare the same reaction. It was a gigantic nursery, plain and simple. A supersized slice of home décor, fashioned executively by Amazon sensibilities. There were walls generated of pastel blue and pink stripes that did not make this room look any slimming. There was a window that generated a view of the outside world, made only so I could have a familiar perspective of time. There was a crib, with bars that rose like pillars meant to hold up old important buildings. They were unscalable by design, to prevent any poorly plotted escape attempts. The crib’s mattress was soft and wide, big enough to comfortably accommodate four people my size, but I slept inside alright. There were toys upon toys. More toys than I knew what to do with or would ever ask for. As many as there were, I all lacked in the fine details. Bunny rabbits with too many eyes. Duckies with misaligned wings. It would have been more noticeable had I not been swarmed with options. Too many, I was spoiled for options, but I was entertained alright. There were books. Giant books in the language I still do not understand, that would have to be read to me during the day and before naps. My understanding of their language was still infantile at best, but I was learning alright. There were diapers. So very many diapers. Diapers that puffed and piled out of their drawers, demanding to be worn. Diapers with coats of countless colors, always perfectly matching my current outfit, despite never staying on for long. Diapers with tapes the strength of industrial glue, that the Amazons could peel away with ease. They were thick and poofy and waddle-inducing, but they fit me alright. The queen’s design was made to give her newest guest an unforgettable stay. And everything fit her alright. Better than alright. Everything fit me perfectly. That was just how she wanted it. Now, at first, I did not appreciate this design. The reasons why currently escape me. The picture of my timeline from denial to acceptance is drawn with washed and faded markers. I know that I disobeyed the queen. I think that I yelled and screamed. I think I tried to escape, which sounds foolhardy as I write it down. I know that I was carried into another room, which was colder and menacing and obscure, I think. I know there was a machine there, I think was like a tanning bed. A scary, foreboding tanning bed. I know that I was placed inside. After that, my thoughts truly became jumbled. When I came to, I was feeling much more appropriate. Much more appreciative. My thoughts were much less foggy afterwards. It was decided that I was ready to give my new room a second try. I knew the result, and the burst of excitement I felt when looking upon my room the second time. This time, I said to myself “Hey, self, this place isn’t that bad. In fact, this place is wonderful!” The queen must have seen the sparkle in my eyes, because she shared the same one. I may not have been a communications expert, but we were both on the same page. Who knew I was this great with foreign relations? The queen took great care as she laid me back for my first diaper change. My bare bottom was laid on an open diaper, that had to be a few inches thick. Softer than a cloud, the padding was a tricolor mishmash that demanded attention. Just like its wearer. The powder she poured filled the air and dulled my senses further. It smelled of the sweetest flowers and worked wonders at masking any bad smells that came near that region. She pulled together all three tapes on each side, nice and snuggly. It’s funny. Perhaps the problem was (this may be hard to believe) me. Perhaps I had thoughts about staying out of diapers? As nonsensical as those sounds. I understood then what had transpired in that room. My queen had bottled away, or severed, or blocked all the rejection I had. And, in her ocean of piety and wisdom, left my mind with all the other thoughts that made me so special. Even alien machines fail to snuff out my award-winning personality. And, to make sure I stayed this way, the queen and her men added another special present to my room afterwards. In the corner of my room sat a box. At certain times during the day(?) the box would turn on automatically. Every day, that box flashed swarms of bright color. Colors that don’t exist in normal circumstances. Colors that are transcended beyond green and blue and red primary hue. The best colors in the world. The room would fill with sounds that match the colors in evolution and captivation. I lie on my tummy and watch this display of a lifetime, every day. I had lost countless periods of time watching that box. When I awoke, signal by the box turning off or the interjection of a staff member, I was always found in dire need of a change. Oh, right! The changes! Here, the passage of time is as persistent as it is undecipherable. My lessons on the subjects have been deemed the by queen to be supplementary. Still, having an idea for the length of my stay would be helpful. Clever girl I am, I have been tracking my time spent here, not in meals or steps, but in diaper changes. It was the obvious choice, seeing as how they happen so consistently and frequently. The increased frequency of diaper changes in recent times, however, may end up distorting my perception of my time here. Additionally, there are times, commonly after a nap, where I cannot confidently confirm if a diaper change has occurred or not. Currently, I have been on this planet for three hundred and forty diaper changes. That number will soon increase to three hundred and forty-one. My diaper has taken quite a soak since I first began writing this entry, and a servant may come and check on me. Despite my advanced wit, I am not always able to tell when I have wet myself, or if I am ready for a change. The ones larger than me are much more adapt at telling when I need one. At the current moment, however, I am confident that my padding is sufficiently soggy enough to warrant one. Now, I know that I thoroughly made my case for why living with the Amazons is a wonderful experience. Given that, I perfectly understand if all who read this would want to share it with me. Well, you are more than welcome to accept my humble invitation. I insist. Playtime was starting to get boring anyway. The trip really isn’t all that complicated. The Amazons are much more learned than us when it comes to space travel. After I arrived, it did not take them long to find the exact location of my old home, lightyears away. Lightyears were like inches to them. I told the queen, best as I could, about a few familiar faces I thought should be aboard the first flight. Ones who are no doubt reading this. Ones who I will not list, so as not to spoil the surprise. Sure enough, she was able to pull them up on a display in real time. Lightyears away, but the picture was crystal clear. I don’t know how the Amazons will come. It still feels too early for a mass invasion. Though, they are no doubt equipped for one. In a war of the worlds, Amazons come out on top, in every simulation. I imagine one-on-one abductions would be the likely answer. Perhaps in the dead of night. Maybe even in broad daylight, if someone here is feeling impatient. Imagine minding your own business when poof! You find yourself in the arms of a loving Amazon who knows what they want and will never let it go. Speaking from experience. I believe it will become a reality sooner than you can predict. Prepare yourself for culture shock. Amazon adoptions will send you for a whirlwind. Abductions or adoptions? It’s just a matter of perspective. That is the other reason I am writing this address. I am expecting a slew of new playmates. When you finally get here, you all better be on your best behavior. There are plenty of jealous Amazons here who want their own little Ellen Huxley to hug and coddle and pamper. When you eventually get here, don’t make me look bad. Do what your Amazon says. Let them dress you, feed you, change you. They all clearly know best. They would not have been able to find us so easily otherwise. When you inevitably get here, get comfortable. I have a hunch that the trip is one way. You might as well enjoy this new age of space travel. If not, well, Amazons have ways of pulling out combative urges, and pushing the sweet dispositions to the front. Again, speaking from experience. To end this entry, I will leave with a tutorial that will prove exceptionally useful during a lifetime in the Amazon’s world: messing your diaper. Now, don’t shy away from this. A full diaper will find its way to you before you know it. You might as well get some pointers from an expert while you still have the chance. The trick is to distract yourself. Don’t focus too hard on the mechanics, less you psych yourself out. When your body gives the signal, if your body gives the signal, hunker down and get ready. Stare off at a spot in the distance. Fancy wallpaper. An old toy. A patch of flowers. It does not matter exactly what. Your body only needs one push before everything falls into place. Remember to breathe, take a minute to recompose yourself if needed. And voila! A full diaper, ready for changing. Believe me, it gets easier, and will soon become a thoughtless action. Something to note: While the powder easily masked the scent of a full diaper, it does nothing for the weight or the feeling. Now, I must bid you adieu. It appears my instructions proved too effective, and my need for a change has become much more dire. Nothing to worry about. Dropping off important cargo is all in a day’s work for a prodigal space explorer. I will wail into my monitor, alerting the staff to pick up the pace. Just remember, when face-to-face with your new Amazon, use every trick I taught you for an easy adjustment period. And when you finally realize how much good a lifetime spent with an Amazon can do for you, tell me all about it during our latest playdate. Seeing you soon, Ellen Huxley

Author's Note. A Story Trade with Just4n0th3rUs3r and a sequel to their story, "A Humiliating Visit from Mommy" P.S. This isn't canon without the original author's approval. “Good morning,” Mom sang as she opened up the door to my nursery and walked in. “Mowning Mommy,” I yawned, wiping the sleep out of my eyes. Niamh was dead asleep beside me, not stirring. “I hope my two little girls had a good night’s sleep,” Mom said, lowering the railing to our crib. Oh, she had no idea! Niamh and I had been up late last night, kissing, groping, doing humpies, and making cummies in our diapers until we passed out. My girlfriend-even after all this time it still gave me warm fuzzies to think of her like that-was still passed out. I felt a certain kind of pride looking at her lightly snoring next to me. I’d done that. Speaking of things I’d done, Mom poked her fingers into the leg holes of my Bunnyhopps and felt around. “Someone had a very soggy night,” she praised me. “Let’s get my princess changed.” She picked me up like I was nothing, something I still hadn’t gotten completely used to, and carried me over to the changing table. I laid there staring up at the swirling mobile above my changing table, sucking on my supergirl paci while I batted up at the unicorns and fairies that dangled just out reach. Meanwhile, Mom unbuttoned the supergirl onesie she’d dressed me in after bathtime and examined the state of my diaper. “Oh wow, Kara!” she exclaimed. “You did such a good job wetting your diaper! I’m so proud of you!” I blushed and sucked happily on my pacifier. It felt so good being praised for something so simple as going pee pee in my sleep. In truth, it had taken a lot of work to become a bedwetter again. Even with Niamh’s magic, unless she specifically wrote it down or snapped her fingers, I would occasionally have bouts of control as my potty training tried to reassert itself. Getting to the point where I went pee pee and poo poo in my diaper without thinking took a lot of work. The only reason real babies were able to do it so easily had to be a case of beginner’s luck. Before she started changing me, Mom took my pacifier out of my mouth and gave me a bottle. “Drink up, princess,” she cooed. My stomach rumbled with hunger as I reached out for the baby bottle and started sucking on the rubber nipple. This was new! I suckled on the milk, alternating between tiny sips and big thirsty gulps while Mom undid the tapes on my Bunnyhopps and started wiping me down the same way she did every morning. Normally she’d change me and Niamh and then breastfeed us before putting us in the car. I would have been worried, but getting to drink yummy milk while getting changed was a fun new distraction and blushy distraction. “There we go!” Mom said, after powdering me and taping me up into a fresh diaper. “Now let’s get you ready for the day.” She took my bottle away and sat me up on the changing table so that she could take the rest of my Supergirl onesie off of me, leaving me naked in just my diaper. I didn’t mind it. It wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t be the last. I looked down at my diaper and frowned. I wasn’t wearing a BunnyHopps. But I almost always wore a BunnyHopps. The plain white diaper I wore was still very comfortable, puffy, and crinkly. But it wasn’t my favorite, or what I normally pictured myself wearing. “Wianh?” I called over to my girlfriend, still dozing in the crib. I focused and corrected my lisp “Rianh?” She let out a tired groan, but just rolled back over away from me so that she was facing the wall. Mom pulled a plain black t-shirt over my head and slid a short but frilly purple skirt that was closer to a tutu and didn’t really cover my new diaper at all unless I sat in just the right way. Next she slid up purple and black striped socks all the way up to my knees, followed by a pair of plain black strap-on shoes. After she put me down on the floor, I looked at myself and poked the fresh diaper. This was weird. I looked cute, and babyish, no doubt, but this wasn’t what I normally wore. I loved superheroes, so almost every outfit I wore had some kind of theme to it. If it wasn’t superhero themed, it was sure to be super cute, extra babyish, and show off my diaper so that there was no doubt to anyone that I was a blushy baby girl. This morning’s outfit? No crotch snaps, nothing extra frilly or babyish, nothing embarrassing written on it-I couldn’t read anymore but I could still recognize numbers and letters. Yeah it showed off my padded butt and it left no modesty, but if I switched the diaper out for panties, I’d just be indecent instead of cute. I decided to just go with it and finish my baba. I reached up to the changing table, snatched it off the top shelf, laid back on the floor and kept sipping, enjoying the pleasant sensation of my morning breakfast on the comfort of my nursery floor. I let out a loud belch and smacked my lips. The milk tasted odd. Not bad. Just odd. Not like how my Mom’s milk normally tasted. “Is this…” I asked and took another sip. “Is this cow milk?” “Uh oh,” Mom said back over at the crib. “Did my precious little girl spring a leak?” She started to immediately strip Rianh of her Frozen nightie and carried her naked form over to the changing table. The crinkle when I sat up was practically a record scratch. Rianh? Leak? Rianh never leaked! Ever! Her magic kept her as soggy as she wanted to so that her diaper could hold even more than a Trest! “Nooooo….” Rianh moaned on her back, still sounding groggy. “Yes, yes, yes,” Mom said, untaping the pink Princess diaper. “Don’t wanna change…” “Too bad.” My jaw hung open watching my witch girlfriend get her diaper changed. Rianh never got her diaper changed unless she wanted it. But now she was getting her privates wiped and powdered against her will. And just like me, she was put into a plain white diaper and given a bottle of milk. Was that an ABU Simple? A Trest? Some other plain white model? It was so hard to tell without the decorations! Just like me, Rianh was still sucking on her bottle while my Mom finished changing her. Mom pulled a plain red t-shirt over her and stopped. Nothing else. Nothing Witcher or Frozen theme at all. Just a T-shirt and fresh padding. “Mommy,” I whimpered, “What’s goin’ on?” “Mommy’s just finished Rianh’s diapee,” she said simply as if that explained everything. She ran a brush through Rianh’s tangly hair and then boosted her onto her hip. Next she reached down and picked me up and impossibly started to carry us out into the living room. “Oooof, y’all are getting heavy!” The words burned in my ears. Mom had never said that since the day Rianh started using her magic on me. “Wiahn,” I said. “What’s going on? Awe you sick?” Riahn looked at me and her face fell. “Worse…” What could be worse than her being sick? My dad came into the living room and gave each of us a kiss; my mom on the lips, me and my witchy girlfriend on the cheek. “Happy Halloween, honey! Happy Halloween, princess! Happy Halloween, sweetie!” Every time he said “Happy Halloween” Rianh flinched like she was hearing a literal curse word. Mom gave Dad an extra kiss. “Rianh leaked,” she said. “Do you mind throwing the crib sheets in the wash for me?” “Sure thing honey,” Dad replied. “Their diaper bags are already packed and in the car.” “Awesome.” Mom took us out to the car and put us into our adult sized car seats. “What’s wrong?” I asked Rianh again. I’d never seen her like this. My beautiful girlfriend who gave me everything I ever wanted looked like death warmed over. She looked like she was struggling not to vomit. “It’s Howl-O-Ween,” she lisped. “Not a good witch day.” Her eyes started to droop like she was ready to pass out. I grabbed Mr. Bunbun, my stuffed rabbit from the space between us and cuddled him close. It didn’t make me feel much better, but it was better than nothing. “Whaddya mean?” “I’ll tell ya later,” she said and drooped her head. I gave Mr. Bunbun another squeeze, just in case, while Mom drove me to my job at the grocery store. “Has she been changed?” my boss asked as he opened up the back passenger door and unbuckled me from my car seat. “Yup,” Mom said. “Full tummy of milk and a clean diapee,” she reported. “No poopies yesterday, so she’s due.” “Maybe we’ll get lucky,” my boss replied, and took my diaper bag from the front passenger seat. I looked down at my Mary Janes and stuck my thumb in my mouth. Hearing my mom and my boss talk about me pooping my pants like it was a good thing just…did something to me. I still wasn’t completely used to thinking of them as ‘Mom’ and ‘boss’ either. That is to say, there was a mental block that prevented me from learning or remembering most people’s names. Everyone in my immediate circle was identified by their relationship to me instead of any kind of proper noun, including my toddler nephew. That was an extra touch Niamh had tossed in. Babies, even big ones, didn’t really know much in the way of proper nouns. Mom was Mom, Dad was Dad, Teacher was Teacher, and so on. Other babies were just that, too. As far as the magic was concerned, I was too little to know most names but my own. So it made sense in a way. “Her father will be here at the usual time after her shift,” my mom told my boss. “As usual.” I followed my boss inside the grocery store, being led around gently by the hand. From the outside, it was still kind of weird, going to a grocery store where I did absolutely nothing constructive. I literally followed co-workers around by the hand all day or was put in a kindergarten style corner of the break room. For some reason, magic obviously, I still got paid. ********************************************************************************************** The first few weeks, I had guessed that this arrangement was some kind of life hack. A grocery clerk’s paycheck could buy a good amount of diapers if that was the only thing it was being spent on. That didn’t hold up to scrutiny, however. Magic took away the need for money. It would have made more sense, headspace wise, if I just went to my Mom’s preschool to spend more time with Rianh. But that didn’t happen. I asked Rianh once why that was and she cryptically replied “Then we wouldn’t be us, silly. We’d just be babies.” I didn’t get it at first, but I think I’d finally figured it out. Going to this job had been part of my identity; part of who I was. It wasn’t the only part of me; I was also a big huffy baby girl that liked cuddles, crinkles, and making all sorts of messes in her diapers; but it was a part of me. Rianh had used her magic to forcefully bring out the other parts to the forefront, but she hadn’t taken anything away. That’s why I most likely kept going to my old job, even if everyday was just ‘bring your big baby to work day’. That’s why Niamh and I spend at least a few hours apart every day: To remain ourselves. She didn’t want me to be just a big huffy baby and for her to just be my witch baby girlfriend. She wanted us to still be our own people; she wanted to avoid ego death and to still be us. That’s why before today almost everything I wore was from a comic book and everything she wore was either extremely gothic or extremely Disney. I thought about all this while I looked up from my coloring. I let out a yawn and stared down at the coloring book I’d been scribbling all over. I looked up at the clock, then back down to my book and kept coloring. Then I looked back up at the clock again to see if any of the hands had moved. Huh? Was I…was I getting bored? That never happened! I could do any repetitive babyish activity and be completely enthralled as if it were the very first time and I was the one discovering it. The magic that kept people seeing and treating me like a baby also affected my mind just enough so that I wouldn’t get bored and would find toddler activities incredibly stimulating. Bored was something I hadn’t been in months! “What’s happening to me?” I asked Mr. Bunbun, sitting across from me, plopped and propped up on the coloring table. My boss interrupted the conversation before it began. “Kara,” he said brightly. “Your Daddy’s here to pick you up.” I got up feeling the diaper sagging between my thighs and waddled out of the break room with him behind me. Thank goodness I was still having accidents! Before we went through the swooshing artificial doors and out into the Texas heat, I felt a finger hook into the back of my diaper and pull it open. “No poopies,” my boss said. Then he asked, “are you wet, princess?” Blushingly, I nodded. “Do you need a change?” “Daddy will change me,” I mumbled, and that seemed to be enough. My Dad was outside, waiting in his car. When my boss told him about my wet diaper he started changing me right away. My nephew’s car seat was with my brother so he laid me down in the back seat, the my head pressed up against my own baby seat and my legs dangling out. “She knew she was wet,” my boss told my dad. “Said she wanted a change and everything.” “Fantastic!” My dad said, wiping my bottom and between my legs like he did almost everyday. He cooed down to me. “Someone’s getting to be a big girl,” he said, every syllable loving and syrupy sweet. “Yes she is! Yes she is! “ He slipped a fresh white diaper underneath me, no powder. “She doesn’t want to sit in a wet diaper all day! No she doesn’t! Nuh-uh! Nuh-uh!” After he taped up the fresh diaper, he lifted up my t-shirt and blew raspberries into my tummy, but my laughter was cut short with my own thoughts. No one in my family ever talked about me getting heavy, or being a big girl. “I’m notta big guwl!” I insisted. “Just give it time, honey,” Dad said. “Just give it time.” Just behind his shoulder, I saw my boss nod appreciatively. “I think someone is almost ready for potty training.” “Baba!” I said. “I’m thiwsty!” Dad handed me a bottle as soon as I was buckled into my adult car seat. I sucked it down like I was dying of thirst? Potty training? Not likely! I was going to make sure I was good and soaked as soon as possible. ************************************************************************************************* “Wow!” One of the kids at my Mom’s preschool pointed at me. “She’s wearing a diaper, too!” The forced and mocking yells of children purposefully trying to be mean rang out before my mom could shew them off. I wanted to rip my own face off and hide it under a rock so no one would see it. Normally the dumb little twerps at my mom’s preschool just thought I was another baby. They might say something if me and Niamh kissed; or tell on me if I really needed a new diaper; or brag to my mom about how big they were because they didn’t need a bottle or to have their diapers changed; but they didn’t laugh at me. Why were they laughing now? “Mommeeeee,” I whined. “Why awe they bein’ mean ta me?” “I have no idea, Princess,.’ Mom said, brushing my cheek. “They’ve been like this all day, picking on Niamh. Something must’ve gotten into them.” As an afterthought she added, “Maybe it’s a full moon Halloween…” Halloween! I ran as fast as my bowed out legs would carry me over to Niamh. She was sulking and hiding in a corner with a blanket over her head. “Niamh! What’s happening? My Daddy talked about potty training me and the kids all laughed at me.” It was getting harder to talk with a cute lisp. Niamh sniffled. She looked like she’d been crying. Those preschoolers had probably been relentless. “It’s Halloween,” she said. “I’m sorry.” “For what? Why? What’s wrong with Halloween?” I asked, lowering down so that we were on the same eye level. “I thought Halloween was when witches got stronger or something!” She shook her head. “Nuh-uh. It’s kind of the opposite.” I leaned back in surprise. “Huh? Why?” “Magic is like water. It’s all over and reusable, but there’s only so much of it,” she explained, still sniffling. She’d definitely been crying. I wanted to go and beat some four year old upside the head. “People think magic is strongest at Halloween because real witches spread that rumor. That way most people won’t even try to use it and it frees it up for us. But on Halloween every amateur, hobbyist, poseur, and tourist tries to cast magic at the same time.” “So it’s like when everybody in the house tries to take a hot shower at the same time. Everybody gets cold water instead.” That’s why the outfits were getting plainer and everything had been slowly edging closer to ‘toddler’ instead of ‘baby’. My girlfriend nodded. “Uh-huh,” she sniffed. “It’s taking everything I have to keep the spell going. That’s why the little kids are bein’ so mean. Kids always see through the tricks first.” “Okay,” I said. “Then why not just let the spell go? Take a break. I can be a grown-up for a night.” I scooted in and cuddled up close to her, draping my arm over her shoulders. She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, princess. Everybody will know we’re big girls, but they won’t forget everything that’s happened the last couple months. That would need another spell.” She paused and turned almost as red as her t-shirt. “That and…the lack of potty training isn’t entirely magic. We’ve just gotten too used to usin’ our diapees.” My heart felt like it stopped. My Mom and Dad had changed my wet and messy diapers more times than I could count. Last summer, me, Niamh, and my nephew all got changed on the floor together. If the spell slipped too much…they would know. They would all know! This wonderful secret life I’d been living, first in my head and then in real life would all be found out and I’d be ruined. I’d never be able to even look at any of them ever again. Not even for a minute. “What do we do?” I whispered. “Just gotta…tough it out,” she said, blinking away fresh tears. “Honey,” I asked. “What’s wrong? Does it hurt?” Niamh shook her head, “No…” “Then what’s wrong?” “I’m leaking again…!” ************************************************************************************************** “Trick or Treat!” My brother and sister yelled for us. Niam, my nephew, and I were standing in the middle of a Texas suburb, with plastic jack-o-lantern buckets out, waiting for candy. The sun was still up. We were trick or treating before dinner because we were so ‘little’. There was no passing on trick or treating. Riam didn’t have enough magic tonight to make anybody listen to her. Mom guilted me into going along by saying that my sister wanted to go. My nephew was in a full body tiger onesie with a hoodie for the ears. My mom had added on a pointy witch hat on top of my head, making me a witch, ironically. Niamh got a waist belt with a pointy tail just above her diaper, and a headband with horns. “Oh, what wonderful costumes!” The old lady at the door greeted us. “A ferocious tiger, a baby witch, and a naughty baby devil! Here you go, sugars.” I flinched. I was a baby witch. Niamh was a baby devil. My nephew was just a tiger; no baby. Having the ‘baby’ aspect be considered part of the costume stung. Granted, my nephew didn’t have a big white diaper showing off, but I bet I wouldn’t have been a ‘baby witch’ if we’d done this yesterday. ‘Cute’ or ‘little’ yes. But not ‘baby’. ‘Baby’ would have been assumed and not part of the outfit. “Say thank you,” my sister told us. “Fankyoo,” I parroted back, trying to avoid eye contact. “Fankyoo,” Niamh copied, looking equally uncomfortable. We walked back to the side walk and went to the next house. All around us, other little kids were walking by, laughing and pointing. “Mommy! Mommy! Look! They’re wearing diapers!” Beads of sweat were forming on my brow and it had nothing to do with the Texas heat. “Mmhmm. Yes they are Susie. But you’re much bigger than they are.” Niamh sighed with relief. Bullet dodged. We were herded up to the next stoop. My nephew took his place between us and looked up at us, smiling a big pumpkin tooth grin. Did he see through the magic too? Was he even old enough to know that it would be considered weird for two girls our age to be dressed like him? Or was he just happy to be here? “Trick or Treat!” A middle aged man greeted us, our buckets out. He squinted at me. “Aren’t you girls a little too old to be trick or treating?” His eyes went down to our padding. “Oh. Guess not.” My girlfriend and me exchanged worried looks. “Happy Halloween.” “Fankyoo,” we said in unison. My stomach started grumbling on the way back to the sidewalk. I held my tummy with one hand. “Kara?” My sister called. “Are you okay? Do you need a diapee change?” She reached to pull back my waistband, but I smacked her hand away. I was not going to get changed on the sidewalk when at any minute the Niamh’s magic might run out. “Kara!” “Sowwy…” I really wish we’d brought my stroller. At least then I would have something I could sink into. I felt a cramp coming on. “According to online,” my brother said, “a lot of times when they start getting sensitive about their diapers and wanting privacy, it means they’re almost ready for potty training.” He patted my cousin’s head. “Can’t wait.” Except my big bro was gonna think I was a lot older a lot faster if we didn’t make it through. “Trick or Treat!” “Oh ho!” How clever, a woman in her early thirties mused. “What wonderful costumes to make your little brother feel big.” My mouth went dry. “Cousins actually, ma’am.” My brother corrected. “And he’s a little bit bigger.” my sis added. The woman laughed. “He certainly is tonight. Here you go…kids.” She gave a conspiratorial wink like she was in on some kind of joke. My guts were doing flip flops on each other. “Trick or Treat!” The door flung open. A familiar space stepped out onto the doorstep. It took a moment but I recognized them. We’d gone to high school together. Then the worst thing possible came out of their mouth. My name. My real name. No ‘Kara’. My real name. Something I hadn’t been called in close to half a year. Something I hadn’t expected to hear for as long as I was in diapers. Speaking of which. “Is that you?” I felt my mouth go dry. “Y…y…yeah…” Their jaw dropped and they dug around in their pockets for their cellphone. “And are you actually wearing an adult diaper?” I was being filmed! I nodded meekly, my knees shaking like jelly. “Uh…huh…” I squeaked. “Why?” “Um…you see…um…I just…I don’t…I…” “Ohmygod, is it wet?! Did you actually piss yourself?” If I had I hadn’t even realized it, and it had been out of stress and fear.’ Piss myself’. I wasn't used to hearing what had become so natural to me referred to so vulgarly. “I don’t know…” my voice came out like a tea kettle. My big sister came up and put her hand on my shoulder. “What do you mean why is she wearing a diaper? What kind of question is that? What are you? Some kind of sicko?” “I think it’s a pretty obvious one,” my former classmate said. “Like is this a fetish thing or something?” I heard something snap. It must have been my big bro doing everything he could to not make a fist. “Okay kids,” my brother said. He picked up my nephew and whirled us around back to the sidewalk. “Come on Kara.” “Kara? Why are you calling her tha-? OH MY GOSH! ARE YOU SHITTING YOURSELF?!” I was. My knees had bent, my guts had given up from lack of practice, and I was solidly filling my pants right there in somebody’s front yard. And they had already gotten a picture of my face and were presently recording my diaper ballooning out and drooping from what I was putting in the back of it. “THIS IS PRICELESS!” Through my tear streaked vision I saw short little blurs pointing and laughing, talking about how it looked like I was pooping my pants. As soon as I finished, a switch flipped and I ran for it. “Kara!” I heard a voice call. “Wait!” I was too busy crying and screaming to realize who it was. “It’s a tri-!” I didn’t hear the rest over my sobbing. I ugly cried and ran the short distance home, my fists balled up and clutching at my loaded diaper. “Mommeeeeeee!” I yelled when I burst through the door. Mom heard my crying and asked what was wrong, but I was too overwhelmed to do anything but blubber. She picked me up, easy as anything, and took me to my room. I braced myself, while she changed my diaper and wiped my privates and bottom, shushing me the entire time. At any second she’d realize that she should have been done taking care of me like this long long ago. “It’s okay,” she said. “It’s okay. The monsters outside aren’t real. They’re just costumes. They’re just silly costumes.” I sniffled and wiped my eyes as the new diaper got fastened up around my hips. “I don’t like my costume,” I cried. “I don’t wanna be a grown-up again!” “Oh silly girl,” she said, wiping away my tears and snot with a baby wipe. “Just because you’re dressed up like a witch doesn’t mean you’re actually a grown-up. It’s just pretend!” I looked down at my legs. “That’s what you….Bunnyhopps?!” My diaper! My plain white, almost medical diaper had been switched out for my favorite baby diapee! I started cackling like I’d won the lottery. “Wow,” Mom said. “I guess someone really did need a diaper change.” She kissed me on the forehead and stuck me in my crib. “You just rest here, princess. Mommy’s gotta go finish cooking dinner for the big people.” A few minutes later I heard my brother and sister through the nursery door. They were trying to explain to Mom what had happened. The door creaked open and a sight for sore eyes crinkled in. “Hey…” Niamh said. Even though it was Halloween, I lit up like a Christmas tree. “Niamh! The magic is working again!” The only thing sagging more than my witch girlfriend’s diaper was her face. It had turned a shade of crimson but it didn’t look like it was from embarrassment- not the fun kind anyhow. “Um…I kind of have a confession, princess. I goofed.” “Goofed?” I asked. “Goofed how?” “You know that thing about Halloween I told you about?” Without waiting for me to respond she pressed on. “I kinda made that all up.” “YOU WHAT?!” I shrieked. I leapt to my feet and grabbed the crib railing. For the first time in my life, she looked less than all powerful, skulking beneath my shadow. “I wanted to play a trick on you for Halloween; make you scared and squirmy like you were when we first met. So I’ve been slowly letting up the enchantments I put in place, peace by peace.” My jaw unhinged itself. “Why would you do that?” She shrugged half heartedly. “I thought you’d get a kick out of toeing the line. Like playing chicken with getting caught.” She lowered the crib rail and climbed in next to me, both of us sitting on the newly remade Supergirl duvet. “Tease about taking our costumes off.” I was so mad, but I wrapped my arms around her anyways. “These aren’t the costumes, you dummy,” I reached between her legs and gave her sopping wet diaper a squeeze. “They aren’t for me anyways. Everything else is.” My girlfriend was crying. My girlfriend who could literally warp reality with a snap of her fingers was crying. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to play a joke. Or maybe make sure you weren’t getting bored with this…bored with me. Not everybody who gets everything they want lives happily ever after…” “Oh Riamh,” I whispered. “I could never get bored of you. Ever. You gave me my fantasy and you’re a part of that fantasy.” “Promise?” “Promise.” We held each other and fell back into our crib. After a couple minutes, when we were breathing normally, she said. “Don’t worry. Everything is back to the way it was. Nobody is going to remember anything we don’t want them to know.” We. She was saying ‘we’. Not ‘I’. ‘We’. That really was a treat of sorts. “Thanks,” I said back, our arms still wrapped around each other. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” She asked. “Anything?” A terrible thought crossed my mind. I might never get this chance again. “Anything?” I asked. “Anything,” she said. I pressed my forehead against hers and opened my eyes that I was staring directly into hers. “You don’t get to make cummies for a month.” Her eyes widened in horror. “What?!” “You said ‘anything’ .” “I didn’t think you’d say THAT! What if…what if I gave you an orgasm every night? For the rest of the year? And make it as intense as the first time!” “Okay,” I said. “That too. None for you and all for me! But just for a month.” “Oh come on!” She pouted. “I hear one month. Do I hear two?” “Fine,” she said, playfully slapping me on the shoulder. “Fine. I’ll endure my own personal no-nut November or whatever the boys do.” Then she tacked on, “It’ll just make it so sweet when I finally let loose anyways.” “And you have to stop using your magic to stop your diapees from leaking.” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Riamh’s screams could be heard all around the block. It was so loud, Mom thought she’d hurt herself. Instead Mom determined that her other baby was about to leak and needed a nice new Rearz Princess put on her. So she had that going for her. I just laughed ,watched the whole thing, and started teasing myself just before dinner while my girlfriend got her diaper changed right in front of me. (The End)

Any sufficiently advanced magic is completely indistinguishable from science. That’s just the way it is. Savages will look at a perfectly fine tuned summoning circle or a gate into an extra dimensional first draft of reality itself and suppose that there is some sort of fine tuned and knowable mechanism behind it all that can then be easily replicated and mass produced once sufficiently understood. And that kind of unenlightened attitude is exactly why magic is so rare across the various planes and timelines. It takes a certain level of humility to know that there are forces wiser and greater than mankind out there in the twisting nether and that they have more than a little say in how the universe works. That is a rarity of character that is only compounded when one realizes that in addition to humility a particular flavor of brains, wisdom, and ambition is required to find and wield magic. Like true love, the fabled ‘oneness with the universe’ necessary to find, harness and practice magic is exceedingly rare and requires passion, humility, and hard work over many years. It is so statistically unlikely that the odds of wielding magic with any modicum of skill are less than getting attacked by a shark in the middle of a desert, or lead turning into gold. Yet it does happen. Alexandria and Markus were proof of that. They stood facing each other in their bedroom, smiling bashfully at the foot of their king sized bed. Their clothes from the day’s trials and tribulation lay puddled in the hamper, their skin freshly bathed, and both wore nothing but the nervous grins on their faces. They’d been planning this for weeks purposefully negotiating and whispering their fantasies to each other each night before sleep took them, shooting off ideas and temptations just before drifting off; all while stockpiling arcane energy and scavenging the perfect spells for tonight. Tonight was their anniversary. Better than birthdays which was supposed to be about the celebrant and the celebrant alone, and much better than the half a dozen semi-holy days they shared with an uncountable number of people; tonight was supposed to be all about them. Their own high holy day. Their own cosmic equinox. Their own renewal and replenishment of the mana that was their love for each other. While like any healthy married couple, the duo of magicians had a good sex life, Markus and Alexandria wanted to make tonight particularly special. No experimentation. They weren’t bored with each other; far from it. Rather they wanted to show how much they loved one another by playing each other’s greatest hits. “Ready, Ria?” Markus asked his lovely bride. “Ready, Mark,” She replied, feeling both empowered and oddly stilted by the ritual. There was something about planned sex that both inflamed the passions of imagination while threatening those of spontaneity. But that spontaneity was kept alive with simple anticipation of this evening. Markus gestured over to the bed. “Lady’s first,” he said. Alexandria rolled her eyes and plopped down, spreading her legs ever so slightly for him. Trembling with his own anticipation, Markus walked over to his wife’s nightstand and opened the top drawer. From it he removed a single, solid purple hued adult diaper. There was only one in there, but that was the wonderful thing about magical drawers. There would always be only one in there. And it would always be in his wife’s size. “Butt up,” he instructed as he unfolded the special undergarment and fluffed it for her. She bent her knees and planted her feet flat on the mattress so she could boost her hips up. He slid the diaper underneath her and nodded “Okay” when it was positioned correctly. “Any powder?” he asked. “Mmm-mmm,” Alexandria said, closed lips. “Don’t like the smell.” “Suit yourself,” Markus replied, and he began gently pulling the diaper up and fastening it on one tape at a time. When the last tape was secure he gave the landing zone a final push and was pleased to see the glowing runes reveal themselves. He shuddered at what he’d just done. Now, no one but him could take Alexandria’s diaper off. Not even her. Now it was his turn. He laid down and she rolled over to fetch a similar diaper, though in his size and colored black. The reminder of what he’d done, what she’d just committed to for him, echoed in his mind with every crinkle of Alexandria’s that reached his ears. “Butt up,” she said. He copied her movements and tossed his pelvis towards the ceiling, bridging it until she gave him the okay. He winced when she grabbed his penis and quickly stroked it. “Ria!” he whined. “That’s cheating!” “Sorry,” she said, but she didn’t really mean it. “Just figure I’d tease it while it was out. Powder?” He considered it, but declined. “No thanks.” She hated the smell. He laid there and held his breath while she brought the diaper up. “Penis up, or penis down?” she asked. “Up,” Markus answered without hesitation. His diaper had the exact same spell on it that hers did. If he didn’t put it on, he wouldn’t be able to take it off, and adjusting himself mid coitus as he grew erect would be just this side of wearing a chastity cage. Alexandria must have been thinking the same thing; hence the wink while she adjusted him and then taped his diaper on for him. The runes glowed to life with the fourth and final tape. They were now officially each other’s prisoners, at least when it came to matters of underwear and toileting. Markus sat up drew Alexandria into a tender embrace. “I love you,” he said. “I love you too,” she whispered back. “What now?” They considered the mattress; contemplated getting right to business as it were, crawling beneath the comforter and getting amorous, but it was a fleeting thought. Diaper sex was just no fun while dry. While not uncomfortable, far from it, Makrus felt he would rub himself raw if they started the night’s festivities in earnest; especially without baby powder. “How about we get a drink and watch a movie?” he suggested. Alexandria traced a circle around his nipples and ran her hands down his chest. “I think one of those would be a very good idea. The movie that they started watching wasn’t important. They weren’t even paying attention to it, really. It was a romantic comedy. Something light and airy like hot popcorn. An attractive man falling in love with an attractive woman, both insisting that they weren’t that attractive, or whose lives didn't have time for love when suddenly converging onto one another. It probably had some kind of pithy title; a play on the word love, or perhaps a reference to the general premise or setting in which the romance took place in. ‘Bushes of Love’ or something. If you’d seen one you’d seen them all. It didn’t matter in the slightest to the loving couple. It was really just a more interesting timekeeper than staring at the clock in the kitchen. What was important was how the love birds sat there on the couch, naked save for the diapers they’d just put each other in, cuddled up like teenagers still scared to go past first base. They basked in each other’s presence on the couch. To either side of them was a wine glass drained dry of its contents…twice. Arcadian wine: It was practically grape juice to the Fae Folk and the Children of Twilight. To those with more mortal and tangible constitutions, however, it was incredibly expensive, potent, and rare. Even the incredibly wealthy only broke open a bottle of the stuff on special occasions. They’d just finished the last of theirs. Six months of patience well spent, all things considered. Now it was just the old waiting game while their minds raced ahead of what their bodies would likely do to one another. The delightfully peculiar thing about Arcadian wine is that it was not a proper wine or spirit in the traditional sense. One could guzzle the stuff by the barrel and the room in their stomach was the only limiter to consumption. You would not get drunk on it, your reflexes would not be slowed, nor your senses dimmed nor your speech slurred. Sexual performance certainly wasn’t negatively impacted. No amount of memory loss would occur, you wouldn’t pass out, and there was zero chance of dying from drinking too much. People had died from Arcadian wine, of course, but that was for indirect reasons entirely. Arcadian wine carried none of the physically debilitating effects of alcohol, but a single glass would hit your inhibitions as though it were hundred proof whiskey. People died on Arcadian wine as a direct consequence of acting out what they normally thought were bad ideas. Nothing about the body was impacted but the judgment was just as quashed and the inhibitions just as unburdened. There are scholars who believe that the stuff is responsible for alcohol in general being called “liquid courage” and every other brew is simply a cheap imitation of the original recipe. So the couple drained their glasses twice over, cuddled on the couch, and were waiting for it to fully kick in. Not that they needed courage, but a lack of inhibition certainly helped communication and exploration. It was hard to be embarrassed or worried or hesitate with the stuff of Faerie muddying up your blood. For them Arcadian wine was less ‘Liquid Courage’ and more of a ‘Potent Passion Punch’. The wine from the vines of Faerie had one other thing in common with its more terrestrial variants: Drink enough of it fast enough and the second place it would hit you was your bladder. Both husband and wife felt the powerful twinge in their bladder, aching and begging for the release. It had really gone right through the both of them. Without hesitation, each relaxed and flooded their crinkling undergarments, flashing Mona Lisa smiles to the air and humming lightly while the wetness splashed and spread between their legs causing their diapers to swell and subtly forcing their legs apart. There was no hesitation. No disgust or cognitive dissonance. No thinking about anything other than the warm wet squishiness caressing their skin and not being concerned at all about the source or the hygiene involved. That would all come later if it came at all. “Oh yeah,” Markus whispered. “I’m feelin’ it.” Alexandria leaned over and laid her head on his shoulder. “Me too,” she purred. And so without further preamble they began the night’s festivities. There on the couch Alexandria started by swinging her leg over Markus’s lap, straddling him, grabbing the back of his head and shoving her glorious naked tits in his face. Markus felt himself grow hard inside his plastic prison and leaned forward into her, kissing her breasts and running his hands down her shoulders and back while she started to rock and grind into him. Determined to prolong the main event until it was just the right circumstances, Markus grit his teeth and stood up, carrying his lady wife with him, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist and be carried like a child to the nursery rather than a bride to the bedroom. They weren't going to spend their anniversary on the couch. Ria teased him kissing his neck and shoulders while he carried her back into the boudoir, television be damned. They probably wouldn’t remember what the plot was, anyways. There would be neither Netflix, nor ‘chill’ this blissful night. Markus dumped Alexandria back on the bed and rammed himself up against her, the pulpy wet masses taped around their waists colliding with each other while they gyrated and teased one another. Under other circumstances, such absence of penile penetration might be referred to as ‘dry humping’, but given what they were wearing that would be far from accurate. The language of eroticism and romance is so imprecise at the best of times. That’s why they have bards. Mark played with her breasts. Ria clawed at his back. He gave her a love bite on the neck that would last for three days after tonight and she kissed him so deeply and ferociously when she was done she was nibbling on the bottom of his lip. He rolled over and grabbed her hair. She grinned and pulled back, throwing more of her grinding thrusting gyrating weight onto his pulsating excited manhood, with him bucking back, both of them working even harder than usual to compensate for the wet warm barriers between them. Oh how their loins already ached for release! Oh how the simpler, more unrefined parts of their brains wanted to immediately give in and leap over the edge of lust until they were both spent in under five minutes like a pair of jungle cats or a younger inexperienced flings in a cheap hotel the night of junior prom! It was not to be, fortunately. Anniversaries were for better memories than fumbling and rutting around like animals and virgins. Alexandria and Markus were better lovers and better mages than all of that. “Hold on,” she warned, slowing his pace and putting a finger to his lips. She crawled off of him, giving the front of his diaper a playful squeeze, enjoying the feeling of his member through the padding. Markus wiggled and grinned at the touch, but was just a tad impatient. Good. He was riled up enough to be bothered by the pause. “I’ve got a better idea,” Alexandria said, bending over to grab something from under the bed. It was time for her first surprise. “What are you doing?” Markus asked, deeply curious and wanting and fighting the urge to keep masturbating right in front of her. Out from under the bed Alexandria pulled a linked pair of cuffs, each cuff sparkling with engrained enchantments. It had been a while since they’d used this toy, but she remembered how much he’d enjoyed it. “Paddle,” she said. A nova of light flashed out from the dangling restraints, and after the spots had cleared from the couple’s eyes, in her hand rested a firm spanking paddle. “Off and bend over,” Alexandria commanded. Markus was only too happy to obey, shimmying down off the bed and then splaying himself face down on the mattress. “Safeword is tofu,” she reminded him. “Tofu,” he repeated. Some people used colors for their safewords, others had more specific words; spells and incantations that prevented any and all harm. Mark and Ria chose ‘tofu’ because there was ironically no organic way to work it into any conversation, sex play or otherwise, and so it rang out to the ears and was easy to remember. Speaking of ringing out… WHACK! “FUCK!” The piece of wood, long hard rectangular wood (or rather an incredible facsimile of the stuff) collided full on with Markus’s padded backside. Whether by an extra enchantment, or that she was just that damn good at swinging it, the paddle sailed deceptively fast through the air and stung like all get-out. Those eight years of girl’s softball from highschool through college had only been a start, but they’d been a very good start. “You know I don’t give warm-up swings,” his wife reminded him. WHACK! WHACK! “And that extra one was for swearing,” she said. “Now Count!” Even with the extra cushioning of his padded underwear, Markus winced and squirmed beneath his wife’s gaze. With the hot stinging on his thighs reminding him just how intense his lady love could be, Markus was regretting that the bedroom lights were still on and that they cast the perfect shadow of Alexandria’s silhouette, paddle in her grip. He might as well be looking into a mirror. He closed his eyes and braced himself. “One…” WHACK! “Don’t close your eyes.” How did she know?! He opened them in time to watch the shadow puppet on the wall make its next delightfully painful stroke. WHACK! “Two!” he yelped. His head was already starting to buzz as the pain endorphins flooded his brain. What a rush. WHACK! “Threeeee!” His vision spun and he squealed. He was so thankful that he was wearing the diaper at that moment. It was doing more work than just keeping the bed dry. He felt her weight on the bed as she sidled up to him, reaching her arm over and grabbing his hips and hugging him to her for added control and leverage. “Smaller,” Ria whispered to the paddle. Another flash of light and the big slobber knocker had shrunken itself down to a more manageable one handed model. Uh oh. WHACK WHACK WHACK! Left, right, left! Alexandria bypassed the padding completely and went straight for the backs of her husband’s thighs. He started sweating bullets, just imagining how he’d likely wince sitting down, tomorrow, but was thankful that any resulting bruises would easily be covered up by pants. “Three-four-five-six!” he screamed out rapid fire. WHACK! Right on the right thigh and it was somehow harder than the previous five strokes. “No,” she said, “THAT was six. Do we need to start over? Did baby forget how to count? Does he need a new lesson?” He gulped. Yes? No? He didn’t know if he could last another six strokes like that. More to the point, if she started over once, she’d start over again. It was intoxicatingly maddening. Being taunted and talked down to, pulling his psyche into a stinging morass of sub and little space. She really had his number. Perhaps that’s what love was. “No. No start over,” he said. “Please no start over.” He was breathing so hard that it was getting difficult to form a coherent sentence. WHACK! That one thankfully, came down squarely on his bottom. The diaper absorbed most of the impact but he still felt it. “Tofu?” she asked. “Tofu.” “Okay,” he could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ve got another idea.” He felt her fingers worm their way into the back of his diaper’s waistband. Oh no, and yet, oh yes! He hadn’t considered the full ramifications of the spell! “Let me give your thighs a break.” She was the only one who could take off his diaper, but nothing about the built in enchantments said that it had to be with her undoing the tapes! His pulse quickened as she grabbed the back of his diaper and hiked it down to just above his knees. Instinctively he tried to squirm and get up, but it was a simple thing for her to throw her weight down on his back and use the leverage against him. “What are you doing?” he asked, excited and slightly afraid at what the answer might be.. “You’ll feel it,” she teased. “Trust me.” Then he heard her command, “Open!” “Open?” he echoed, confused. But she wasn’t talking to him. The top dresser drawer rattled, and through the shadows on the wall, he could make out her placing the paddle down so that two cylindrical shaped objects could shoot out and land squarely in the palm of her hand. An airy popping sound registered in Markus’s ears, pressure release and air wishing out of the container like soda gushing out of a half full two liter. Then he heard his wife repeat herself. “Open,” she said. Curiously, nothing rattled or reacted. Then he felt her finger plunge inside of him. This time, Alexandria actually was talking to him! Markus’s eyes bulged in surprise and she went deeper and deeper into his anus. What was happening? Surely her fingers couldn’t be that long, could it? It had to be his imagination multiplying the sensation by the surprise! He let out a brief exhale when she pulled her finger out, but the relief was short lived as a self-lubricating plug took the place of her digits. “That should keep it in long enough,” Alexandria tutted. That hit home! The first cylindrical object had been a pill bottle, no doubt. “You put something inside me?” FWAP! A bare handed smack on his exposed rear was the response Markus got, both stimulating his pain receptors, flooding his brain with more endorphins and pumping the plug into him ever so slightly. “SEVEN!” he yelled, clenching his teeth and refusing to blink even while her hand gently caressed his bottom. “Very good. You didn’t lose count,” she cooed. FWAP! FWAP! “Eight-nine!” Instead of spanking further, she started to gently massage his buttocks, kneading at the muscles much in the way a cat gets comfortable on a fluffy pillow. The contrast and relief made him growl out in lust. He could feel something dissolving inside of him. Something powerful. And potent. And completely, mindnumblingly arousing. FWAP! “Ten!” Markus’s already erect penis felt like it was vibrating; pulsating like the top layer of Vesuvius minutes before destroying Pompei. FWAP! FWAP! FWAP! “Ten! Ten! Ten!” He’d lost count and was too focused trying to maintain some scrap of control. “Ten! Ten! Ten! Ten!” Impotently he kicked the air as she smacked and slapped his buttocks, each impact seeming to push the, potent concoction even deeper inside him while he quietly foamed at the mouth. “TEEEEEEEN!” FWAP! He was going to do it. He was going to cum. He was going to lose all control all over the nice satin bed sheets! “Tofu!” He yelled. “Tofu! Pull my diaper up. Please!” Alexandria needed no second plea. “Okay, hon,” she whispered. “Okay. Hold on.” Quickly yet gently, she took her weight off him. The potent aphrodisiac had had enough time to melt away and do its work, so she spared a millisecond to remove the plug keeping it in just before she yanked the now cooled but still soaked padding back up over her husband’s hips, providing a safety barrier between his manhood and the mattress. He dived back down face first like a champion prizefighter that had been paid off by the mob. “Now!” He told her. “Now!” Again, she did not need a second request. Her bare hand thudded with sturdy plastic backing. THUNK! And that last concussive force was enough to send him hurtling over the edge into full orgasmic pleasure. Everything shook as the dam broke and he helplessly came into the front of his diaper, his penis tickling and tingling with ecstacy. If his body hadn’t been so wracked with exhaustive pleasure, he might have started humping the mattress like a puppy and thank her for the privilege. For her part, Alexandria simply took her spot beside him and gently caressed his back while he spasmed all the way to the carpet, practically melting off the mattress and lying on his back while his base bodily functions spiraled delightfully out of control. The intensity was such that if they hadn’t done this so many times before, one might assume that it was their first. “Thank you,” he gasped, panting as the last of his seed leaked out into the sopping wet padding, his cock pulsing and throbbing in time with his pulse. “Thank you. Oh gods. Thank you!” “Welcome,” she chirped smugly. “Very welcome. Now what abooooou-?” The thought lay unfinished as the moment Markus caught his breath, he pounced on her. Holding her down, pinning her by the wrists, he scrambled on top of her, putting just enough of his weight over her so that no matter how hard she struggled or kicked and squirmed around, she couldn’t get free. “No…hrrnnn…fair!” Alexandria grunted, trying to escape his grasp, failing, and loving every moment of it. Now it was her turn to be teased and restrained. Now it was her turn to be selfish. Her turn, as some call it, to ‘brat’. “No…fair, Mark!” Markus slowed his breathing, taking back control and thoroughly enjoying it, but not as much as the wild and anticipatory look on his wife’s face. “How is it not fair, Ria?” he asked tauntingly. “Because you’re not winning anymore?” Neither had known they were playing some kind of game with winners or losers until the idea had sprung forth from his mouth. Funny that. But now that it had happened, it sounded like good fun and both started slipping into their roles. “Seems like you already won,” Ria taunted from underneath him. “You already finished.” A playful fire lit up between her husband’s eyes. “Not with you, I’m not.’ “What are you gonna do?” she whispered seductively. “Go for twosies? Try to grind through both of our diapers and lap me? Or are you gonna take mine off and cheat?” She waited for the idea to sink in and take root. “If you beg me nice, Mark, I’ll take yours off and I’ll let you play with yourself while I watch.” It was a challenge. A tempting one at that. But he wanted to play a different game. He straddled Alexandria and forced her wrists together. He leaned back, putting more of his weight on her abdomen, enjoying the now muted crinkle and the wet squish beneath him. Using one hand, he leaned forward and kept both of her wrists out of the way. Then like the mighty god Thor, he held his free hand out and spoke. “Come.” Just as it had with her, the charm inside the implement responded to his voice command and leapt up from the carpet, depositing itself safely into his palm. “I thought you already did,” Ria joked. He gave her nothing but the terrible, lustful hunger, the hunger to see her squirm and writhe; begging him for something he would not give. Arcadian wine had that effect on him. She wasn’t much for spankings, but she did love the sound they made and the sting of the paddle on her thighs could be most pleasant when done right. “Whatcha gonna do?” Alexandria asked, “Flip me over and give me a taste of my own medicine?” It was half a question and half a hint. Her husband answered, but did not take the hint. He had better plans. Squeezing the handle and with intent, he spoke not to her but to the item in his hand. “Wand,” he said. “Vibrating.” The same white hot aura erupted from the paddle and when the corona had faded, the diapered man now wielded a rapidly shaking rod where the still yet flat paddle had been. Alexandria’s eyes widened in delight and horror. “You wouldn’t dare!” “Wouldn’t I?” Before she could retort, he swung his leg back off of her abdomen while still keeping her wrists pinned, staying to her side and profile. And like Captain Ahab stabbing from the depths of Hell, he thrust the vibrating wand straight on between her legs, its shaking resonating all the way through the layers and layers of soaked pulp and padding, causing her to start breathing in quiet little gasps. She’d stopped kicking. She’d stopped struggling all together, for in truth, she wanted this. The pinned wrists were all for show. She reveled in the intensity of the wand pleasuring her without her direct say so. And ever so tauntingly, she gasped and let out little mewling growls while he moved the wand back and forth over her padded crotch, staying in just the right spot long enough to please her before purposefully moving it somewhere else. He smiled while she planted her bare feet and gently started bucking and grinding into the wand, her pelvis thrusting and moving into it and with it; a puppy dog hungry for her treat. “Ooooooooh,” Alexandria moaned. “Ooooooooooooh. Marrrrrrrk. Mark. Mark!” He did not join her, though he knew she would have loved him to; to hear his voice mix and mingle with hers; losing all control and composure. It wasn’t time for that. Not yet. Instead, he prepared the most gruesome of incantations he’d learned. “Esto sicut virgo ante noctem nuptiarum.” The vibrating of his wand continued, unabated. Ria’s moaning did not. Her eyes, which had drooped pleasantly closed, shot open. “What did you?” she asked. The only thing that was wet between her legs suddenly was her diaper. “You talked about lapping, my love, but I need more time to recover.” An almost playfully cruel smile sprouted. “So I just started you over.” ‘Nooooooo!” she screamed, kicking and struggling once more. Her wrists broke free of his grip and she bounded the mattress by her side in frustration. He pressed the wand back into her sex, just enough to tease her so that she gripped the bedsheets in frustration and ecstacy. Then he pulled the wand away. Just pulled it. Left it buzzing and dangled the handle by his thumb and forefinger high up above her. “No-o-o-o-o-oooooo!” Ria whined and pawed at it like a kitten. The whining lasted only a few seconds as horniness and impatience got the better of her. Her arms plummeted downward towards the waistband of her diaper, with fingers desperately peeling away the tapes. The runes on the landing zone held firm and so did the tapes. The spell was intact. She did not put the diaper on, so she could not take it off. Still, Markus thought, it was cute watching her try, watching her struggle. Watching her fail to so much as get her fingers down past the waistband. She knew better, of course, but part of their play was desperation and helplessness, and he was only too happy to help her along. Wand hidden behind his back, out of reach, Markus took his free hand and started teasing her nipples; gently caressing them one at a time, and then adding in little pinches until they became hard and erect. Lovingly, Markus leaned over and used his mouth to suckle at one teat while he used his free hand to tease and pinch the other even harder. Meanwhile, Ria’s hands feverishly pawed at the front of her diaper, rubbing and grinding while her hips boosted up again and again and again into her own palms, huffing for release that wasn’t quick to come. Markus waited until her moaning renewed and approached apex and then stopped sucking. “ESTO SICUT VIRGO-!” “No!” she yelped. “No. Not again! Not again! Tofu!” She kept rubbing herself, trying to finish before he could complete the spell a second time. “Beg me,” he hissed. “Beg me to let you finish.” “Pleeeeeease let me finish,” Alexandria pleaded. “Please!” Markus waited until her hands stopped. “No,” he growled and watched her face drop. “I’ll do it myself.” He plunged the wand back where it belonged, sending her into shrieks of delight. She gave up trying to resist and started screaming as she repurposed her hands into teasing her nipples until she was bucking now. “OH! OH! OOOOOOOOOOOH!” And then a pleased sigh as the last of the air leaked out of her lungs. He watched with utter love and satisfaction as she went limp. “Off,” he whispered to the toy, making it still. He tossed it to the side, not taking his eyes off her, but was still wonderfully caught off guard when she leapt up and wrapped her arms around him, peppering him with kisses and dragging him down to the mattress with all his weight. “Thank you,” she panted. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” In the moment, there was nothing left to do but to pepper back with a thousand more sweet kisses until they were both still and warming each other with nothing but their bodies. Time stretched out in the silence of their bedroom; their heartbeats in sync, making beautiful music together. Okay. Time to clean up. Gently, he pried her arms off of him, disentangling himself and nudging her head off of his chest. Like getting a particularly comfortable cat out of one’s lap, it was more difficult than it might seem from the outside, with her moaning and whining for his flesh on hers in their post coital daze. Arcadian wine tended to have that effect on her. “Come on,” he coaxed. “Come on. Let’s get cleaned up.” Several rapid kisses and cupping her left breast in his hand got her to open up like a flower for him. Standing up from the bed, he arched his back and groaned, feeling the full sagging weight of the diaper between his legs now that a good chunk of the abused pulp had broken off and settled at the bottom. Standing at her bedside, he looked to the left towards their shared chest of drawers to the right towards her nightstand. “Diapers or panties?” he asked, his voice registering just above a whisper. Eyes still closed, she inhaled through her nose and exhaled in a light purring hum. “Diapers, please.” She couldn’t see it, but he was smiling. Good. He’d wanted to properly change her. Even if they didn’t go any further than they already had, even if they just cuddled in bed the rest of the night as they drifted off, there was something that made it feel so much more intimate when they were both padded up. He opened up her nightstand drawer and got out another diaper for his beloved. “Scooch over to the side?” he asked as he fluffed the new garment out. Her eyes remained closed. “Mm-mm,” she said. “No.” It was a cute, playful squeak. She was far too comfortable laying spread eagle in the middle of the mattress. He shook his head and smiled. “Fine. Have it your way, love.” He climbed back into bed and knelt between her thighs so he could start changing her. The runes on the landing zone glowed bright white at his touch, sensing it was him. He skillfully peeled back the tapes so that barely a sound was made and opened the sodden padding. She shuddered as the fresh hair swooped in on her genitals like an aftershock. But she kept her eyes closed still, luxuriating in the cool clean feeling of his touch as he gently wiped her down. “Knees up,” he instructed, and reluctantly, she obeyed, retracting and pulling her knees all the way to her belly button so that she didn’t accidentally clock him upside the head with the heel of her foot. She shuddered again as he gently swept his hands over her buttocks and hole. A little boost below let him leverage her hips up enough to slip the used diaper out and slide it off to the side and slide the fresh one beneath her. “No powder please,” she said, still in a post orgasmic haze. He took a moment to ball up her used diaper and place it in a nearby lidded garbage can. “I know,” he smiled. “We’re out of unscented…” She finished the thought. “And I hate the smell.” “Guess I’ll have to find another way to dry you out,” he teased, taking his position back between her legs. In truth, she was probably already dry enough to be sealed in. The residue from baby wipes tended to air dry quickly enough. Still, he took the time to gently blow upon her mound and on her lower lips, tickling her with the very air from his lungs. “Ooooh,” she moaned. “If you’re trying to dry me out,” she said breathily, “You’re doing a bad job.” He simply said, “I know.” And finished rediapering her, pulling the garment snugly up between her thighs and locking her in tape by tape by tape by tape. A slight glow and a humming tone that only she could hear, and once again, she was his prisoner, and he hers. Freshly changed and feeling renewed now that her nethers had been so lovingly cleaned and dried, she gazed softly up at him from the bed, bending her knees “Happy Anniversary, dear,” he gave her an almost (almost) chaste peck on the lips. She opened her eyes, sat up, and grabbed the back of his head. Her tongue probed into his mouth once more, a low moan humming through her while she reached between his legs and groped at the soggy padding he yet wore. Almost immediately, she felt his manhood stiffen and begin to throb through the padding. Kiss unbroken, she rolled him over onto his back, before finally allowing herself to come back up for air. “Happy Anniversary, Mark.” She returned the delicate kiss. “I love you.” “I love you too, Ria” “Wanna go again?” Beads of anticipation formed on his forehead. “Yeah,” he panted. “Yeah, I really do.” She took one of his spare diapers out of his nightstand drawer and started to fluff it. “Me, too. Let’s get you changed, hydrate, and then see where things take us. Deal?” Unblinkingly, he gazed up at her while she undid the tapes, his mind filled only with love. “Deal.” In any sufficiently advanced enough relationship, purest love is indistinguishable from the most tainted of lusts.

(This is a sequel to a story of mine entitled "The Virus" “Okay folks,” the meeting leader said. “Let’s start with the affirmation.” “I am an adult. I am not helpless. I am not stupid. I am independent. I did nothing to deserve what was done to me. What happened was not my fault. I am worthy of respect. I am worthy of being equal. I am worthy of autonomy I will build back up, one brick at a time.” It came out as the same tired, droning cadence as lapsed Catholics at Mass. Which was fitting considering they were in a church. Fellowship halls and side buildings of religious institutions had long been common meeting places for meetings such as these. People often needed quiet places together and share their struggles with one another free from judgment- or at least with such a pretense in place. Alcoholics, drug abusers, trauma and the families of all of the above: Everybody needed a space sometimes to make that connection and fight the isolation lest they despair. Rhyse never much wondered why these types of meetings always happened at churches. He never thought he’d need to go to one of these things. He figured he knew why the churches were willing to host them- free advertising for the J-Man and all that- but he never bothered to wrap his brain around why those sites seemed to be the only option available. Close to two years into recovery and Rhyse knew with all the stale bitterness in his heart why: No other place could or would make room for them. Few other spaces could or would let them. Regardless of the trauma or the healing involved. Floorspace was money and money wasn’t a luxury most of these folks had anymore. Almost all were living on some form of dwindling government assistance. Facebook and other online forums were a poor choice of meeting, since so many of their traumas originate from the internet; that and the jackasses and the sickos seemed attracted to those message boards like their ordeals had been a fun ordeal. They’d met at the public library a few times, but then Stu had had a breakdown and was found in the baby storytime nook with a load in his pants and crying for his Mommy. Abuser, Rhyse reminded himself, Stu was calling out for his Abuser. Presently, they all sat in what served as the old Methodist Church’s primary building outside of the primary chapel itself. It was a large multi-purpose dining and meeting area. Wheel the folding tables away from the wall and you’d have the layout for a potluck. Take the steel chairs and put them in rows in front of the stage, and it’s time for the Christmas Pageant. Clear everything out, and you had a decent dance floor for a very uneventful cotillion or sock hop. Take those chairs and put them in a circle right by the stage far away from the front door, and you had a recovery meeting. Rhyse grit his teeth and looked around tonight’s circle of chairs. Lotta these faces had become awfully familiar to him, but he’d be able to recognize them for who and what they were even if he’d just seen him for the first time out on a public sidewalk. All of them wore plain, baggy, form concealing clothing. Chubby, rain thin, curvy, thick; it didn’t make a difference, everyone strived for the same quasi-amorphous blob shape to conceal the adult pull on style briefs they wore. Women who opted for dresses and skirts kept them long and flowing down to their ankles. People who felt particularly bold opted for cargo shorts that still went down well past their knee caps. That was a tactical choice. The color schemes, the plain and boring printless swathes of beige, tan, white, gray, black, and dark green had been a psychological one. Dark reds and blues were bold and confident choices. Sky blues and ballet slipper pinks were all but formally forbidden. Someone in sunshine yellow was playing with fire. Shoes were simple: Sensible loafers and flats, lazy flip flops and ugly ass crocs. Nothing with with laces due to a communal struggle with them. Nothing with velcro for fear of triggering a relapse. No one wore ties or earrings save for clip-on. A successfully buttoned up shirt was considered a flex. All waistbands had a bit of elastic in them and belts were a no go out of necessity. Zippers were but a formality. Anything with a cartoon character on it, childish or otherwise, was right out. That actually was a group rule. If you wanted to recover, you had to show discipline and commitment to yourself. “So who wants to begin? Tell us about your week.” Mike, the group leader said. Mike was something of a role model. He had fully Recovered before Rhyse had found the group, but had stayed on to act as a coach to others trying to regain their adulthood. He looked like the stereotypical principal in an old highschool movie, with his tied on tie, and tweed jacket with patches on the elbows. Rhyse opened his mouth to speak, but then silenced himself when he felt the urge to sit in Mike’s lap and ask for bouncies. “Yes? Sheryll?” Sheryll stood up and smoothed out her dark denim skirt. “I cooked for myself yesterday. All day. I didn’t ask help from nobody…anybody…anyone.” Her nostrils flared. “Take a deep breath,” Mike instructed. “I was independent,’ Sheryll said. “And I cared and cooked for myself all day. No takeout or delivery and I cooked everything for myself and cleaned up afterwards.” Rhyse felt his eyebrows arch. He’d ask Sheryll for tips later. “What was it?” “Microwave pasta.” “For all three meals?” Mike took on a somewhat disapproving tone. “Yes…” “Was it Chef Boyardee…?” “Store brand,” Sheryll said proudly. “It was store brand. And I threw it away. Didn’t leave the can out and forget about it.” Mike softened and nodded. “Cool,” he said. “Cool. I’m very happy for you.” He offered no further praise and Sheryll sat down. Emerging data was showing that praise for ordinary things tended to have the opposite effect on someone’s recovery making celebration at small victories moot. “Who else?” “I’ve woken up and gone to the bathroom instead of wetting the bed the last two.out of three nights,” Todd volunteered. Mike seemed genuinely impressed. “Interesting. What have you been doing? Any tips?” Todd set his jaw. “Right before I went to sleep, I would remember how my Mommy used to tell me how I was too little to get out of my crib and use the toilet like an adult, but then I imagined that I was telling her the affirmation and all the things I wanted to say to her.” Todd took a breath. “And then that would kind of become a dream and I’d wake up from it needing to pee.” “Your…Mommy?” Mike asked. “Was your Abuser your mother?” “Wife,” Todd blushed. “Ex-wife. Actually, we’re separated. The divorce hasn’t finalized yet.” “Got it.” Another awkward silence. “Who else?” Rhyse shot his hand up. “Excuse me…” “Rhyse, you’re an adult you don’t have to raise your hand.” “I gotta go potty,” Rhyse said without thinking. “Excuse me?” Mike sounded almost offended. Rhyse felt the weight of the group’s stare at him, taking him apart. Words were live grenades in this setting. Shouldn’t have said the P-word. At least half of everyone’s Abusers did something to damage or weaken their bladder and rubbed their inability to go…to go P-word in their face. “I mean….may I go to the restroom?” “You don’t need permission,’ Sheryll spat. “Just go.” Rhyse stood up and verbally retreated. “I was just showing that I had control and was considering others feelings.” He started exited the circle. “Didn’t want people to think I’d been triggered.” He glared at Sheryll. “Or think that I was about to have an accident.” Sheryll blushed beet red. She fluffed her skirt and broke off eye contact. From her body language, Rhyse would have expected the woman to cross her legs in discomfort. She probably couldn’t, though. Even if her pull-up…protective undergarment…even if her protective undergarment couldn’t get so big and puffy as to prevent her from doing so, it would likely still squish; might even leak. That was assuming Sheryll had had an accident. That was assuming Sheryll knew one way or the other. She might not be potty trai…incontinent..she still might be incontinent. Hands in his pockets, and still not running, Rhyse rushed into a back hallway towards the restrooms. Mike would give them a stern talking to about that, he was sure. They were all here to keep each other in check and to help one another; not to bicker like preschoolers. Mike was a hypocrite. Thought he was so big and bad because the program had worked for him. He was a toddler that got into big boy undies early and thought that made him smarter than everybody else. This stupid program didn’t work for anyone else that Rhyse knew, either online, or in real life. Most of the crew there were just lonely and pathetic and didn’t have anyone to talk to. People who missed two many meetings were assumed to have graduated or not needed the help anymore, but Rhyse had other thoughts on that… He opened the men’s room door, turned on the light and locked the door behind him. The bathrooms in this building were just single person restrooms. The only difference between the men’s and women’s restroom was that one was tiled blue and the other tiled pink. That and how with how small they were- just a toilet and a sink-there really wasn’t much point in differentiating them by gender. “Might as well try,” Rhyse said to himself. He hadn’t actually felt the need to pee. He just wanted out of that hazing ritual disguised as therapy. He pulled down his baggy slacks and grimaced as he felt the weight of his pull-on style protective brief separate from him. He sat down on the seat and stared at the light yellow stained padding between his legs. He poked the insides with his finger and felt the squish as if for the first time. It wasn’t even warm. He’d been sitting in it and not even noticed… “Damn…” He hadn’t brought any extra protection because the recovery group had decided that that was too much like a carrying around diaper bag. For a while, it had become routine for people to go to the bathroom as soon as they arrived at the meeting, but that resulted in a line for the bathroom and people doing the p-word dance and then everyone was just overgrown three year olds waiting for teacher to tell them when to go. For half a second, Rhyse fantasized about tossing the flimsy granny panties out and just going back commando, but what would happen if he had another accident? It was enough to make him want to cry and call for Daddy…Sky…his Abuser…ex-Roommate…friend…Da-....damnit! Rhyse sucked his thumb and rocked himself gently until the threat of a panic attack subsided. He did his best to remind himself that it was him doing the rocking, not sky. After much too long, Rhyse stood up, pulled his pants up, wet padding and all, and left without flushing. He should have turned right, but his feet took him left. Right would have taken him back to the meeting. Left took him to where he really wanted to go. With amazing stealth, Rhyse opened the door at the very end of the hall and slipped into the empty room. He flipped on the lights and took a second to take the wonderful sight all in. The church’s nursery wasn’t very big. All told, it was probably as big as the common area of his old apartment. Two, maybe three adults could inhabit the space comfortably without getting in each other’s way. It had a couple of rocking chairs, a couple of simple cribs, a low table with tiny chairs to sit around and color in, and shelves of not-so-neatly stacked toys. The metal changing table was flimsy and only stocked with baby wipes and lysol, which made Rhyse a little sad, but it made sense. This wasn’t an all day babysitting place. This is where old grannies sat and watched little ones for just an hour or two while their parents went over to the next building to hear about the sky man. Diapers, bottles, and such would all be dropped off with the babies each week. Even with the bare bones bum bench, Rhyse still liked this place. It was full of gentle feelings, and soft textures and bright happy colors. He could have done without the pictures of Adam and Eve, but he still liked it. Daddy had been in the process of repainting Rhyse’s nursery before…before…not Daddy…Sky….Rhyse didn’t have a nursery…he wasn’t a… Anyway, the nursery made Rhyse feel calmer. The only things sized for him were the rocking chairs and even a big dumb baby like him knew that he’d probably break any of the toys if he tried to play with them. The crib and changing table were right out, and he wouldn’t have taken a leftover diaper even if he found one, but just being in this place helped to center the traumatized young man. The place felt right. Like it was meant for him. Like he was supposed to be here. This was Rhyse’s church. Against his better judgment, Rhyse sat down on the carpet, closed his eyes, inhaled deeply. He was sure he was dreaming it, but he swore he caught a faint trace of leftover baby powder lingering somewhere. “Get up, Rhyse,” Mike’s flat, stern voice broke into Rhyse’s trance. “You shouldn’t be in here.” Rhyse sat up off the floor with a jolt! He’d fallen asleep! The cold damp feeling screaming against his thighs indicated he’d done more than that. Pull-Ups just couldn’t hold as much pee-pee as his old diapers could . “Huh?” Rhyse feigned confusion. “What? How did I get here? Ga-ga?” Mike stood in the doorway and didn’t move. “Stop,” he said. “No institution would have let you out if you were still prone to any kind of fugue state.” “I didn’t mean to...” It sounded so pathetic coming out of Rhyse’s mouth. “Yes. You did.” Mike said. “You made a choice to come in here. You’re an adult. You have that capability again.” Rhyse walked up and hung his head. “I know…” he nervously rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and felt how pruney his thumb had become. “I’ll go back to the group.” “Group’s gone,” Mike said. “Everybody’s left. Go home, Rhyse.” “Okay…” Rhyse sulked. “See you next time?” “Actually…” Rhyse snapped his head up. “Actually? Actually what?!” “Maybe it’s best if you take a break from the recovery group,’ Mike said. “I’m having some concerns about your progress. I think that being around the others is bringing out the worst in you. Them too.” Rhyse wanted to scream. So he did. “What?!” he shrieked. “Have you been listening to yourself, lately?! I still need Pull-Ups because I don’t know when I’m pissing myself, but I can’t bring extras to change into because that would be like a diaper bag, but I can’t wear real diapers that don’t need changing as much because that would be somehow more babyish! I can barely take care of myself, but I’m not supposed to ask for help! I can’t encourage people when they’re doing better than me because that would somehow be condescending to them and reinforce bad feelings! And to top it all off, when you catch me sleeping in a nursery, you send me away! I NEED HELP!” Mike listened to the entire rant and didn’t blink, even as Rhyse increased the volume with every syllable. “They’re called briefs.” “How many people have you actually helped grow back up?” Rhyse accused. “What’s the success rate of this bullshit program? How many of us are back to being adults?“ In full clinical deadpan, Mike replied, “I can’t help you. That’s the point. You’re already an adult. You have to help yourself.” Rhyse screamed like an animal. Mike didn’t flinch. “You asshole! I’m not even fucking allowed to talk about my fucking ex-roommate who did this to me!” “Your ex is a victim too. The virus altered certain people’s brain chemistry so that they engaged in some extremely questionable behaviors.” “He hypnotized me and put me in diapers! Made me think I was going crazy!” “Yes,” Mike lectured. “Many different conditioning techniques were used. Sleep deprivation. Gaslighting. Emotional abuse. Addiction and chemical conditioning. Subliminal messaging and hypnosis. The methods varied but the results were all the same.” “You’re missing the point!” Rhyse howled. “Why am I here in some bootleg AA shit, living on food stamps, and Sky is free to walk about and not in jail…or in a psych ward? Why is he still getting help and I was cut loose as soon as I could walk and talk again? He! Regressed! Me!” “In your case,’ Mike said, “It’s probably because we still don’t know why he regressed you. Doctors need to figure out exactly how the virus affected his brain and what lasting damage there’s been to him so that subsequent variants don’t affect other unsuspecting victims.” “And what about me?” Rhyse cried. “What about my lasting damage? What about my life?” Mike stepped aside and showed Rhyse the door. “You know what they say about hypnotism: It can’t make you do anything you don’t already want.” ************************************************************************ Rhyse sat in Daddy’s lap, bouncing and squishing happily while Daddy made silly noises at him. “Babababababa? Babababababba?! Ba-ba-baaaaaaa! Ba-ba-baaaaaaaaa!” “Bababababababababa!” Rhyse babbled happily back! In truth, Daddy was saying something much more different, but Rhyse was so little that he didn’t understand even the concept of words. Not so deep down all the baby knew was the concepts of sights, smells, sounds, touch, and taste. Daddy looked happy and sounded happy, so that made Rhyse happy. So Rhyse looked and sounded happy right back. Daddy felt nice and warm to him, so Rhyse leaned into him and snuggled into Daddy’s chest and neck face. This made Daddy get alllll huggy, and Daddy gave the best hugs that made the baby boy feel so tiny and safe. He loved it. He also loved the feeling of squishiness in his diaper and how warm his onesie kept him while still letting him look at his own wiggly toes. The smell of Daddy’s deodorant, shampoo, and cologne clung to him like a special flower that made the baby want to smell and smell and smell. Sometimes he knew Daddy was looking over his crib before he even opened up his eyes. As for the other smells, the ones come from Rhyse, the baby didn’t notice them very much, though being the clever boy that he was, did notice that Daddy’s nose wrinkled up whenever he was about to change Rhyse’s diaper. Daddy’s nose wasn’t wrinkling right now, however. Daddy was reaching over to the other side of the couch to grab something. Baby Rhyse’s eyes got big and wide he saw what it was. “Ooooooooooo!” Daddy smiled and gave the yummy bottle of milk to Rhyse. Rhyse started drooling right away, hungry for the num-nums inside. A wave of pleasure washed over him while the wave after wave after wave of Milk splashed into Rhyse’s mouth and down his throat. Rhyse leaned back in Daddy’s lap, almost going limp as every last bit of energy was dedicated to drinking the sweet creamy liquid. Daddy petted his head and made quiet happy sounds for Rhyse to suckle too. Rhyse made his own happy sounds,mewling and grunting with the bottle while his eyelids started feeling heavy. Daddy shifted him over so that he was lying down, on the couch, his head still resting comfortably in Daddy’s lap. The baby’s grunting got a little louder and his lifted his knees up to his tummy, not even realizing that he was pushing because of how focused he was on literally everything else. The only thing that distracted him from his bottle was the warm sticky feeling in the back of his diaper after his knees went back down. Daddy’s nose wrinkled up. This was the last day that Rhyse could remember feeling happy. ************************************************************************ Sky sat in a stiff backed office chair across from a man in a white coat. Diplomas adorned the walls. Combined with the large bookshelf filled with impressive tomes on virology and psychology and the sturdy oak desk made for a stoic, professional, and highly professional looking environment. That was all just for show, Sky knew. He was smarter than this hack doctor. He’d get more use out of this desk with some vinyl padding to lay on and use the drawers to store wipes and spare onesies and rompers. Get those useless books (which he totally had never read) out of the way and stack them with fresh dia- No! Stop it! Not right now! Much like the doctor, Sky was also dressed for show. His clean pressed raincloud gray suit and slicked back hair gave the impression that Sky was at a job interview. This was no interview. All conclusions had already been reached. The only factors that were truthful were the ankle monitor underneath Sky’s left pant leg, and the police officer standing passively in the corner. If the pig wasn’t here, Sky would have been able to regress this quack back down to size. If the quack wasn’t here, he could have hat that pig well on his way to padding. “How have you been, Sky?” “Well. Thank you, Doctor.” “Still holding down a job?” “Yes, Doctor.” “What was it again?” “I’m in accounting,” Sky said. Smartly he barged ahead and added, “Taxes mostly. Closed system. No internet. Minimal interaction with the customers.” “Good!” The doctor nodded. “Very good.” He opened a folder and pretended to peruse Sky’s folder. “Still taking your medication?” It wasn’t working. “Yes.” “And how do you feel?” Like he wanted to slip the most powerful yet subtle laxatives into the man’s coffee, lock him out the bathroom, then spank him when the inevitable accident occurred, pamper him up just in time for some sedative laced milk once his will had been broken and then put him down for a nap and some special lullabies. “Fine.” Oh god why was he like this?! “Just fine?” Nothing was fine. This virus had turned him into some kind of monster. Or maybe it was something that had been inside him the whole time. Sky shrugged all of it off nonchalantly. “I won’t lie, I feel pretty ‘meh’ most of the time, but considering the circumstances I’d say ‘meh’ is pretty fine..” It was a believable fib. The doctor jotted down something. “Making any new friends?”. “No, sir.” Kind of hard to do these days with the ankle bracelet monitoring his travel and no internet access allowed at his apartment. He couldn’t even have a smartphone. “And the um…paraphernalia.” Poor little guy was too scared to say “diapers” and “crib” and such. Ew…! Was Sky that desperate? “Gone.” A word here that means “mostly hidden where possible.” “What about your um…your acquaintance?” The doctor flipped back a few pages. “Friend? Your roommate?” Both the doctor and the police officer scrutinized every aspect of Sky’s posture, body language, and facial expression. Sky just let their stares wash over him like a cool breeze. “My…” His roommate. His friend whom he had betrayed. His precious sweet baby boy that needed him so and had always needed him before either of them even knew it… “I don’t think it’s appropriate to give titles to a relationship that doesn’t exist. Rhyse, yes. What of him?” “Have you been in contact with Rhyse?” Hearing Rhyse’s name made Sky ache all over. “No. Not since police intervention…” destroyed the best, most fulfilling thing that Sky had ever had in his life. “...rescued him.” “Are you curious about how he’s doing?” “Whether I’m curious or not doesn’t matter, Doctor,” Sky said evenly. “I hurt him and have no right and no business being around him. It wouldn’t be healthy. For either of us.” That was the most truthful thing Sky had said so far, even if it hurt him so. The doctor closed the file. “That’s remarkable. Yes. You’re quite right.” He motioned to the officer who relaxed and opened the door. “We’ve got a long way to go, I think. But according to your bloodwork, urine and mucus samples, your viral load has significantly decreased. How about we take some more and then you can go home?” A question that wasn’t really a question. Sky gave one slow blink to contain his rage. Talk to him as if he were a child, would he?! Sky immediately knew more than ever that he was going to find a way to knock this man down a peg, even though he was still working on the ‘how’. “Of course, Doctor. Let’s get to it.” “I’m also prescribing you a mood elevator.” “Wonderful.” ********************************************************************************* “Pop-Pop-Pop-Pop!” Sky cooed down at his baby, narrating each unsnapping of the onesie with a “Pop!” until the full diaper was in plain sight. He lifted Rhyse up by the back of the knees and lifted up the onesie off the back of the diaper and all the way up the belly button, “Upsie-daisy!” Rhyse’s giggles were muffled by his sucking on the baby bottle. Cute little guy couldn’t be stopped for anything. Before Sky had fixed him, his roommate couldn’t be bothered to clean up after himself or do much of anything. Now Rhyse could giggle, drink, cuddle, pee and poop all at once. He still was a terrible mess, but now it was all contained in a neat little package. A vast and much more adorable improvement. Rhyse took the changing pad and slid it under Rhyse. His sweet boy was so special that boosted his hips to help. “We really should use that new changing table of yours, kiddo.” Sky said. He grabbed a fresh diaper off the coffee table and started unfolding and fluffing it up. “But Daddy doesn’t feel like walking allllll the way into your nursery with you to change you so that you can come all the way back out here.” A funny thought beamed into Sky’s nogging. “Now who’s lazy?” he cooed. “Daddy is! Daddy’s a lazy butt!” Little bubbles of gas made their way into Rhyse’s baba as he giggled. He probably didn’t appreciate the irony, but at least he liked the way his Daddy said it. Daddy. Just thinking of himself gave him such a thrill! With the baby wipes just out of Rhyse’s grasp, and the fresh diaper ready, Sky peeled back the tapes and went to work. “Peeee-yew!” Sky crooned. “Such a stinky boy! Yes you are! Yes you are!” Just like the videos had suggested, Sky dragged the front of the diaper all the way down between Rhyse’s but to wipe the maximum amount of solid waste in one go. Then like lightning he went to work on his boy’s front, and worked his way to the back. His boy. His baby boy. This should have disgusted him. Half a year ago, the very idea of this would have sent Sky vomiting to the toilet. There was something special about this. It was like in the gangster movies when the mafia boss had someone who hated them shave them with a straight razor. There was power and intimidation in making yourself so vulnerable and fearlessly pushing the blade up to your throat. But this was better. Sky wasn’t the vulnerable one. His precious Rhyse lay there nursing and powerless, his balls literally in the palm of Sky’s hand at some points. And there was no hate or intimidation or fear. Only love. Power and love. Damn, this had been an inspired plan! Sky had, of course, read the reports suggesting that the mind altering virus that had been spreading- in a certain percentage of the population- caused delusional megalomaniacal beliefs and the strange desire to dominate people by regressing them and treating them like infants. That was all propaganda from the mainstream media though. Sky wasn’t infected with anything other than love and a glorious sense of purpose and power. He gave Rhyse’s hairless groin one last inspection to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots. “Good,” he said. “All clean.” It had become so much easier to keep the baby clean after he got that special cream to remove all of his big boy hair. “Good.” Half a minute later, the old diaper was balled up tighter than Fort Knox, and the new one was tugged up snugly between the little boy’s legs. He used to keep baby powder by the coffee table too, but Rhyse had gotten into it one afternoon and sprinkled it all over the floor. Lesson learned. “Let’s count the tapes,” Sky babbled at his boy. “One bottom….two bottom…one top…two top.” Four was probably a bit advanced for Rhyse these days. Then with a final “Snap-Snap-Snap-Snap!” Rhyse was all sorted out and almost done with his baba. Sky could already see his baby boy starting to drift off, and felt his heart melt. The Daddy just knew that his baby would be passed out asleep on the couch by the time he got back from tossing the dirty diaper. And that was fine. Some days, Sky was perfectly content to watch Rhyse just dozing on the couch, standing over him and marveling at his own good work and good fortune. This was the last day that Sky could remember feeling happy. *************************************************************************************** “We now return to our post virus anniversary coverage. A world heals after traumatic and strange events. Listen to the stories of the afflicted, their strange uncontrollable urges, and the people whose lives were changed forever.” Rhyse took a gulp of beer. “Can you please turn that crap off?” He called out. The bartender grabbed his remote and pointed it at the T.V.. “Sure my man. What do you want?” “Cartoon Network.’ The bartender frowned. “Seriously?” Rhyse hid his blush behind his mug. Damn it was a good afternoon to go day drinking. He didn’t need to make that job interview anyway. “I meant ESPN.” The bartender barked out a laugh. “Ha! Got me, dude. Got me!” He switched the station to footage of two teams Rhyse didn’t care about playing football the night before and men in suits talking about what they could have done better in hindsight. “Thanks.” “Not a problem, Boblem.” No meeting for Rhyse tonight. He wasn’t allowed. He’d bombed out of the last three job interviews. The only reason he’d managed to get to the in person interviews, was because employers weren’t technically allowed to ask if he’d been regressed. Once they met him in person, they knew. They just did. Something would happen, or there’d be some slip of the tongue, or he’d move the wrong way, or they’d ask about his employment history. And he never got a call back. Rhyse couldn’t afford a lawyer, and the only free legal advice he’d gotten was that technically being regressed and struggling to get back up to full adult performance was not a recognized disability or protected class of people. So yeah. Getting drunk good and early seemed like a plan. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to watch that crap,” the bartender intruded on Rhyse’s melancholy. The joint was empty save for the two of them, and Rhyse speaking up had given him some kind of tacit permission to engage with him. Damn. “Yeah,’ Rhyse said noncommittally. “Bunch of nut jobs,” the bartender shook his head. “Kinda says something about the world, huh? About what isolation can do to a guy.” Rhyse finished his beer. “Yup.” The bartender refilled the beer without Rhyse having to ask. He hoped it meant it was free. “You ask me? Those sickos with the diapers and the baby shit? There was something wrong with them to begin with. The virus just brought it out.’ Rhyse thought of Sky. Daddy was a little anal retentive, but he hadn’t been that controlling before. “Mmmhmmm..” “There oughta be some kind of list,” the bartender said. “Fuck it. They should all be locked up. Keep ‘em the hell away from other human beings. Let ‘em do that fucked up shit to each other, not me.” A sad, soft, but genuine smile came to Rhyse’s lips. “Amen, brother.” “That or the little freaks they found.” The regression victim’s blood ran cold, but he didn’t respond. “You ask me, they were asking for it. Somebody tried to put a diaper on me? I’d fuckin’ knock their teeth out. That’s if they were lucky.” “Didn’t they get hypnotized and drugged and shit?” Rhyse said. He was genuinely afraid of confrontation but was trying to pass off defending himself as playing Devil’s Advocate. “And a lot of them at first didn’t even know it was a thing. Nobody did.” If Rhyse had any body hair left, it’d all have been on edge just then. “I mean…maybe,” the bartender said. “Just seems kinda sus to me. Like you’d have to really like shitting your pants to let it get that far, I’d think. Pretty sure most of them wanted it if you ask me. It’s just common sense.” There was nothing ‘Common Sense’ about what had happened to Rhyse. “Maybe…” “And even if it wasn’t, they’re a bunch of whiners,” the bartender went on. “Wah, I had an accident! Wah I had to learn how to walk again! Wah, I want free shit and handouts. Wah, wah wah! Buncha losers.” Rhyse leaned forward on the bar stool. “You victim blaming?” “It ain’t victim if it’s the result of natural consequences. I say cut off all their funding. Make them buy their own diapers and they’ll re-toilet train themselves and buy and cook their real fucking quick. No more of this group home shit.” Rhyse instantly took a great disliking to this man. “Most of ‘em are living in nursing homes,” Rhyse said. He was. “That’s a step up more dignified than fucking daycare,” the bartender said. “Better than what they deserve.” “Yeah,” Rhyse grunted, pretending to agree. “They’d probably be happier in a big fucking daycare or something than an old folks home.” “Yeah, you’re probably right,” the bartender agreed. “Buncha losers.” Rhyse saw the guy’s nose wrinkle. “What’s that smell?” Rhyse sat back down on the bar stool and felt the warm mush spread out beneath his bottom. “What smell?’ “You don’t smell that? It smells like…it smells like…like…” His eyes widened in recognition. This was his last job interview all over again. You!” “I’m sorry!” Rhyse yelped! “I didn’t mean to! I hadda accident” The guy looked like he was ready to deck Rhyse, but he pointed towards the door instead. “Get the fuck outta here!” “Yes Daddy!” That’s how Rhyse got a black eye. ****************************************************************************************** Sky sat home with the television turned off and unplugged. It was another one of those specials on the virus, how it affected people and what the affected actually DID to people. Rhyse didn’t want to watch any more of it. It hurt too much. Not because it reminded him of what he did, but because of what he’d lost. He looked out at Rhyse’s old nursery and felt another terrible pang of loss. It was just an empty room now. An empty tomb to the baby he’d lost. “I’m not crazy,” he muttered to himself. “I’m not. I just…I just…I need to…” He got up off the floor and walked over to the nursery “Close…this-” he didn’t fall, but his feet tripped over themselves because of the baby doll on the floor.. “Fuck!” It wasn’t just one baby doll. Sky had bought a dozen. They lay scattered around, the living room floor, with diapers taped on them bought from the grocery store. They were poor replicas of the real thing and only wet at semi-random intervals. Sky had tried buying these as a kind of nicotine patch. It’d only made things worse. They were nowhere close to the real things. Their skin was too hard. THeir bodies too cold. Their diapers too small. Everything was too small. “It’s just not the same,” Sky heard himself say. Then he whispered, “Damn, there really is something wrong with me.” He stood there looking at the pathetic shambles his apartment was turning into. Then in the quiet he said. “I need a new roommate.” It tasted like a lie. He didn’t need a new roommate. He needed a new baby boy. But that was a lie too. He didn’t want a new one…just the one he’d lost. ********************************************************************************************** “Paints almost dry kiddo,” Sky chirped to his baby boy crawling on the floor. “Pretty soon, you’ll have a pretty blue sky and pretty red birds flying around it! Won’t that be nice? Won’t it?” Rhyse rolled towards the sound of Sky’s voice and looked up at him adoringly. “Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!’ “Yes it is!” Sky lowered down to all fours and kissed the baby on the forehead. “It sure is!” That got more delighted babble and Sky kissed Rhyse from the top of his head all the way down to his belly button. Then…. PHBTBTBTBTBTBTB! Daddy’s lips buzzing of tummy made baby Rhyses’s entire body light up with happy feelings. That and made both his face and the front of his diaper feel warm and squishy at the same time! It was so wonderful to just lay back and let Daddy push his buttons and flail helplessly around. Life couldn’t get better than this, and as far as Rhyse had remembered, this was all life had been or could be. And he was ha- THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! “Open up!” A voice called in.. “CDC and Police!” Sky popped up to his feet, adrenaline going on overdrive. Logically he knew this would happen eventually. He’d been too sloppy in the beginning. Eventually someone would trace the orders he’d made and his I.P. address. Eventually someone would rat him out. He just figured he had a couple more months to prepare for it. Eventually always came too soon. “Do you have a warrant?” he was already looking for some kind of escape route. But how to get away with Rhyse? Rhyse couldn’t take care of himself on the best of days. What would he do without Sky? “WAAAAAAAAAAAH!” ’Rhyse cried out, confused and scared. The loud noises and mean voices bothered him worse than a thousand loud barking dogs. “Shhhhh,” Sky shushed his boy. “It’s okay. Don’t worry. Daddy’s here…Daddy’s here.” Next came the police breaking down the door. And the shouting. And the panic. And the men in hazmat suits. And the screaming. And the crying as they were forced apart. And many, many months of programming and deprogramming disguised as “Therapy”, and heretofore empty promises that either of the young men would ever be the same again. ***************************************************************************************** THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! Panic and adrenaline shot into Sky’s heart. The dolls! He had to hide the dolls! They weren’t illegal for him per se, but any bastard cop could look at them and see that as probable cause for a wider search. Then they might find his real stash! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! “Uh….just a second,” Sky called. “Coming! I’m coming!” He scooped up the plastic headed infants and tossed them into Rhyse’s empty old nursery. The painted clouds and birds that he couldn’t bother to smear over more proof of his guilt. Please don’t come in please don’t come in. THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! “Just a minute!” More tear gas would come soon. And men in hazmat suits…drag him to a rubber room. His blood work was coming back showing he was dangerous or his psych profile showing what he was really thinking! “Just a minute! THUNK! THUNK! THUNK! Sky tossed the dolls and quietly shut the door. Pleasanton’tcomeinpleasedon’tcomein!” He put the mask on that he’d grown so adept at wearing. Maybe it would just be his parole officer. The ankle monitor shouldn’t have seen anything wrong with his grocery store trip where he’d bought the baby diapers in cash. And he’d stolen a co-worker’s phone to get on Amazon and ship the dolls to his apartment. No way anyone was suspecting anything. This was just a routine visit. Just a routine… Steeling himself, Sky threw open the door with a happy face. “Hello…baby?” Pale faced, black eyed, and wearing ill fitting clothing, Rhyse stood in the doorway of their apartment smelling like shit. “Hi Daddy…” “Rhyse?” Sky asked. “What are you doing here?” He noticed the black eye. “And who did that to you?” Someone was going to pay for that….Sky was already reaching in the back of his brain for one of those recipes he’d found guaranteed to destroy bladder control.. “Can I come in?” He shouldn’t…both of them knew that. “Yes. Please, come in.” Sky backed up two steps for every waddling, sagging step that his ex-roommate took. “Thanks.” “What are you doing here?” Sky asked. Rhyse looked down at the ground. “I…hadda accident,” he admitted. The smell followed the man-child into the apartment. “I can tell,” Sky said. He didn’t sound disgusted. In fact, he was doing his best to hide a smile. “I hadda accident…and too much to drink…and an owie…” Rhyse sniffed. “And I didn’t bring any protective briefs to change into…” “Diapers,” Sky said, reflexively. “They’re called diapers.” Rhyse’s lips quivered. “Sky? Daddy? Can you change my diaper?” There was going to be a bartender with wet pants in his future, Sky decided. But that was a future plan. He had to get Rhyse out of here. “No, baby boy,” he said though it broke his heart. “I can’t. I’m not allowed to. Daddy did a bad bad thing to you. And if he does it again, he’ll get in trouble.’ “Oh….” Tears started dripping down Rhyse’s cheeks. “Sorry to bother you, then. I just thought…I hoped…I…I…” A single loud sob exploded out of him. “I missed you!” He didn’t mean to, but Sky ran up and gave his roommate the biggest hug he’d ever given. “I missed you too, baby! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin your life! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I didn’t mean to break you!” The smelly, stinky, overgrown baby in the baggy pants hugged back. “I’m sorry, too, Daddy! I didn’t want you to get in trouble!” Sky broke off the hug. “I know. It wasn’t your fault.” “It wasn’t yours either.’ “Well, kidnapping and regressing people against their will is kind of against the law,” Sky said. Rhyse pouted out his lip. “What if it’s not?” “Not against the law?” “No,” Rhyse shook his head. “What if it’s not against my will?” Like a two year old he wiped his snotty nose all over the forearm of his sleeve. “Can’t…can’t hypnotize someone to do something they don’t really wanna do.” “What are you saying?” Sky asked. He wanted to hear it. Need to. “Daddy,” Rhyse repeated himself. “Will you change my diaper?” Sky pressed his forehead up against his baby boy’s, and started crying tears of joy. “Lay down on the couch,” he instructed. “And pull down your pants if you can. Daddy’s gonna get your wipes and a changing pad.” “And a fresh diaper?” “And a fresh diaper.”

Liz stood tall in front of the mirror, illuminated by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Her once male body has been transformed into a more feminine shape, yet she still scrutinizes every inch of herself with a critical eye. Her skin is smooth and supple, the unblemished surface reflecting her inner beauty outward. She admires her face with an intense stare, appreciating the delicate features that betray her true identity. Her eyes are a bright and piercing green that catch the light in a way that draws one in. The harsh angles of her masculine jawline have softened significantly, replaced by a more feminine slope. Her lips are full and luscious, painted in a deep shade of ruby red, accenting her olive skin. As she focuses her attention lower, she runs her hands eagerly up and down her body, relishing in the sensations coursing through her. The curves of her hips and thighs are especially alluring, the very embodiment of femininity. Her hands drift upward towards her ample bosom, running over each breast, cupping them gently with a loving touch. A low moan escapes from her lips as she pinches each erect nipple, reveling in the sensations that ripple through her body. Liz dips her hands down towards her crotch, teasing her cock and balls lightly, her breath quickening as she imagines what's to come. She flashes a coy smile as she runs her fingers up and down her inner thigh, making an S-curve to her pert ass. She eyes the reflection over her shoulder, admiring the round and toned cheeks, running her hands up and down the smooth skin before giving them a light squeeze and a playful slap. But as she steps back from the mirror and looks towards her bed, Liz's apprehension begins to grow, for tonight she will embark on a journey that will lead her down an uncertain path. Liz steps away from her full-length mirror and walks slowly towards her bed, trying to calm her nerves. The soft carpet feels comfortable on her bare feet as she makes her way to the side of the bed. She takes a deep breath and flips the covers up before dropping to her knees and reaching underneath the bed. Her heart is racing as she feels around for the large plastic tub she had hidden there. The nervousness she had tried to ease earlier is now almost overwhelming. But she knows what she has to do, and there's no turning back now. She finally feels the tub and starts to pull it out from underneath the bed. It's heavier than she remembers, but she manages to get it out and sets it on the carpet next to her. With her heart pounding in her chest, she grabs the lid of the tub, and with a pop, she takes it off. Liz closes her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before she reaches inside. She can feel her nerves starting to settle as she pulls out what she had hidden away. It's time to face her fears and hope for the best. Liz's hands begin to tremble as one by one the hidden contents are removed from the tub. First came the diapersThey were pastel blue and pink with prints of teddy bears and cartoon animals. She ran her fingers over the soft, padded material, marveling at how they look and feel like real baby diapers. Liz picks one up and studies it closely, noticing the elastic waistband and leg cuffs designed to prevent any leaks. She sets the diaper aside on her bed and moved on to the next item. The next item to be removed from the tub as a ball gag. It was red and made of a firm rubber material. Liz picks it up and examines it, feeling the weight of it in her hand. She wonders how it will feel to wear it and what kind of noises she'll make. Next, Liz picks up the small paddle up out of the tub. It was a small black leather paddle with hole at the bottom of the handle. She examined the smooth leather surface and feeling its weight in her hand. Liz began imagine the sting it will cause on her skin. How she had never used one before and expected to cry out in pain when struck by it. Only time would tell if that would hold true. The flogger was the next item removed from the tub. It is made of soft black leather strands that dangled from a sturdy handle. Liz ran her fingers over the strands, Feeling each one slip through her fingers. She imagined how they'll feel against her skin. It also came to her mind that she wondered if this too would make her cry out in pain. The final item Liz removed from the tub was the nipple clamps. They were small and silver with rubber tips designed to prevent slipping. Liz examined them carefully, wondering how much they'll hurt when she applies them. Liz takes a deep breath and takes one more look at the items laid out before her. She knows she wants to explore these toys and experience new sensations, but the fear of the unknown is overwhelming. She wonders if she'll be brave enough to follow through with her plan or if she'll chicken out at the last moment. With her heart racing, Liz decides to take the plunge. With her hands shaking and her heart racing, Liz takes the diaper in her hands and unfolds it, laying it out on her bed. It crinkles softly as she does, and she feels a rush of excitement mixed with apprehension. She knows that what she's about to do is not something most people would understand or accept, but she can't help the way she feels. Taking a deep breath, she climbs onto her bed and lays down on the diaper. It feels soft underneath her butt, and the diaper crinkles more as Liz adjusts the diaper before pulling the front up over her crotch and using the tabs of the diaper to tape it into place. She knows that once she's taped in, she can't take it off, and that makes her feel even more vulnerable. With the diaper on, Liz climbs off her bed. She stands there, feeling the new sensation of putting her first diaper on since she was a baby. There's a sense of freedom and release mixed with the thrill of the taboo. This is something that she was curious about, but never had the courage to try. With her hands, she explores the diaper now taped on her. Running her hands over the soft, smooth plastic, she lets out a soft moan. The diaper feels good against her cock, and she runs her hands over her diapered butt, giving it light squeezes and pats. Liz gathers up the ball gag, paddle, flogger, and nipple clamps in her arms before exiting her bedroom. As she walks down the hallway, her heart is racing. She is really doing this, and it's finally happening. She knows that there's no turning back now. Exiting the hallway, Liz takes a deep breath before stepping into the small den. Her heart was still racing from the nervousness of carrying the kink items, trying not to drop them on the floor. As she set the items down on the computer desk, the crinkling sound of her diaper became deafening in the otherwise silent apartment. With a deep sigh, Liz bent down and turned on the computer tower, listening as it hummed to life. As the computer booted up, she sat down on the comfortable computer chair, feeling the thickness of her diaper between her legs. With a shaky hand, she opened the internet browser and typed in a URL address, hitting enter. The address brings up an adult cam site, and Liz quickly logs in with her credentials. With trembling fingers, she clicks on the tab for rooms and selects her private room. She notices that the room was already filling up with eager viewers, waiting for her to appear on the cam. A wave of nervousness and self-doubt washes over Liz as she realizes the gravity of what she is about to do. She takes a deep breath and clicks the button to enter her Cam room, knowing that there was no going back now. The room of Lesbians was waiting eagerly for her to begin, and Liz's heart raced with anticipation and trepidation. Liz sat there in her private cam room, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. It was always nerve-wracking to put herself out there for anyone to see and judge, but she loved the thought of finally getting some attention. As her room loaded up and the notice of her appearance popped up on the chat, she couldn't help but feel a small surge of excitement at the number of messages she was getting. Most of them were the standard compliments on her appearance - how cute, how sexy, blah blah blah. But there were a few that stood out, commenting on the curves of her body and speculating about what she might be willing to do on camera. Liz couldn't help but feel a little flattered, even as she braced herself for the inevitable creepiness that would come with this online interaction. Without warning, Liz reached for something off-screen. She brought it up to the camera slowly, letting her viewers get a good look at what it was before she did anything with it. It was the red ball gag, the kind you might see in a BDSM scene. Suddenly the chat was a flurry of activity, everyone eager to see what Liz was going to do with the gag. Without a word, she opened her mouth wide and fit the ball inside, fastening the strap firmly behind her head. As she did so, the messages in the chat grew increasingly lewd and suggestive. Some complimented her on how cute she looked gagged, while others speculated about what else she might enjoy having in her mouth. For Liz, it was equal parts thrilling and unnerving. She loved this new feeling of desired, but there was always the nagging worry that these wpmen didn't see her as a person so much as an object to be used for their pleasure. And while she found herself loving playing the submissive on camera, there was a part of her that wondered if it was worth the cost to her self-esteem. But for now, Liz put those worries aside and focused on the rush of adrenaline she felt as she started to perform for her viewers, gagged and subservient on camera. For better or for worse, there was no turning back now. The show had barely just begun, and Liz's heart was racing. She was nervous, but also excited to continue her performance. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and stepped back to give the best view of her diaper for all to see. The comments came pouring in, filled with love and lewdness for her appearance. More comments came as Liz began running her hands over the soft plastic like fabric of her diaper, Liz felt a wave of pleasure wash over her body. She let out a soft moan as she pressed against the diaper, feeling it crinkle and mold itself to her body. The gag in her mouth made it hard to breathe, but it also added to the eroticism of the experience. Liz turned around to give her viewers a full view of her diapered butt, feeling a hint of embarrassment but also a sense of liberation. She had always been a bit shy about her body, but being in this submissive role made her feel empowered in a different way. After a few minutes of showing off her diaper, Liz sat back down to catch her breath. Liz's heart was pounding in her chest as she continued to stare at the endless stream of comments pouring into her chatroom. It excited her to know that she had such an impact on her audience. She found herself enjoying the power and control she now had over those watching her. Without hesitation, she reached for the nipple clamps laying on the computer desk. She knew what her audience would love to see next, and she was not going to disappoint them. As she held up the clamps for all to see, a rush of comments and reactions flooded the chat. Liz closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing what was coming next. She applied the first clamp to her left breast, letting out a moan of pain and pleasure that was muffled by the gag in her mouth. She repeated the process with the second clamp on her right breast, feeling the pressure build up inside of her. After a moment, Liz leant back in her computer chair, showing off the clamps to her audience. The chat went wild, filling up with comments about how much they enjoyed watching her in pain. Liz then took her fingers and began to flick the clamps, sending waves of shocks through her body, causing her to moan louder, and her chat to explode with excitement. She was lost in this new world of pleasure, reveling in the moments of ecstasy that she could give her viewers. Liz found herself not wanting this moment to end, and neither did her audience. Liz took a deep breath, forcing herself to quiet her mind and focus on the task at hand. She closed her eyes, relishing in the cool air blowing from the AC vent against the hot flush of her skin, and took a moment to adjust the clamps on her breasts. The sharp pain of the clamps had begun to dull to a more manageable ache, but Liz knew they would continue to be a source of pleasure throughout the remainder of her show. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes and checked the chat. The messages were still flooding in, with viewers expressing their admiration for her performance. Liz moaned quietly around the ball gag as she stood up from her chair and turned around, giving the audience a full view of her naked, diapered body. She ran her fingers over the surface of the diaper, feeling the crinkling material under her touch. The smell of her arousal was starting to intoxicate her, and she knew she couldn't hold back much longer. Liz leaned back into her chair and closed her eyes as she reached down and grabbed the crotch of the diaper and gave it a firm squeeze. She could feel the warmth of her own arousal against her skin as her throbbing cock pressed hard against the confines of its padded prison. Liz began to rub the crotch of her diaper, slowly at first but soon her pace became quicker and quicker. The sound of rapid crinkling of her diaper becaming deafening and Liz knew that the chat had to be blowing up right about now. She moaned louder now, the sound muffled by the gag, as she brought herself closer and closer to the edge. Liz was momments away from climaxing into her diaper when she stopped her rubbing and pulled her hand away from her diaper. The time for this would come but not right now, there was still much more to show to her auidence. She opened her eyes and looked at the chat, seeing the messages of appreciation and adoration flooding in. Liz smiled from behind the gag, her heart pounding in her chest, as she realized that the rush of emotions and the pleasure of performing for her audience was both intoxicating and arousing at the same time. She leaned forward towards the camera, letting the viewers see the glossy sheen on the ball gag and the drool leaking out from behind the gag. The chat was a buzz with many comments from her viewers about what pretty eyes she had and how hot they found the condition of the ball gag. Liz leaned back in her computer chair and watched the chat for a bit as she caught her breath and slowed her heart rate. Liz took a deep breath as she sat at her desk, staring at the camera before her. She knew her viewers were expecting more from tonight's performance, and she was determined to give it to them. Attempting a sly smile from behind her gag, Liz reached out and grabbed the paddle from her computer desk, holding it up high for all her viewers to see. The moment the paddle came into view, the chat came to life with a flurry of messages, ranging from excitement to pure lewdness. Liz couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions as she read through the messages. With a confident look in her eyes, Liz began swishing the paddle through the air, letting its whistling sound echo through the room. She could feel her cock pressing hard against the confines of her diaper, as she realized just how much power she held in her hands. And with a deep breath, she started the next part of her show. She leaned back in her computer chair, her bare thighs exposed as she took the paddle and began to smack it against her skin. She moaned softly into her gag, relishing in the small surges of pain that shot through her body. Her viewers watching intently as she alternated between her thighs, the paddle making a satisfying thwack each time it connected with her skin. The chat became a flurry of messages as Liz's thighs began to turn pink from the paddling. Her viewers cheered her on, urging her to spank herself harder and harder. Liz complied, and soon the shade on her thighs was turning into a nice dark shade pink. Taking a few deep breaths, Liz kept the paddle in hand and pressed it against her diapered crotch. The sound of the diaper crinkling was music to her ears, and she began rubbing the paddle harder and harder against her padded crotch. Liz could feel her cock pushing back from inside the diaper, straining against the soft padding.She moaned softly into her gag as more slobber and drool coated and escaped her gag. the combination of pain and pleasure taking her to a place of pure ecstasy, and the chat was a flurry of messages from all her viewers both loving what they were seeing as well as pushing her to do more. As she continued to rub the paddle against her diaper, Liz felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge, but it was still not time for the climax, there was still more to do. She stood up from her computer chair, and turned around to show her viewers her diapered ass. They immediately became excited, and many of them began leaving lewd message as they knew what was to come. Liz couldn't help but feel empowered by the attention. Bending over and using the chair for support, Liz raised the paddle and began to smack her diapered ass with it. The sound echoed throughout her room, and she could feel the vibrations of each strike spreading through her body.Despite the pain, Liz was in ecstasy. She moaned into her gag as she continued to paddle herself, feeling her cock press into her diaper with each strike. It wasn't long before her cock was good and hard and leaking precum into her diaper. Satisfied with this part of her show, Liz sat back into her chair with a satisfied sigh from behind her gag. After breif minute, Liz reached out and picked up the flogger from her desk, she could feel the excitement building within her. She knew that her viewers were still watching her every move and it made her feel powerful. Holding the flogger in her delicate hands, Liz slapped it lightly against her open palm. The falls of the flogger landed gently on her skin, but she knew that with each stroke, the pain would intensify. She slapped it against her hand a few more times, testing its weight and feel. Liz had never used one before and unlike the paddle she had read that some serious damage could be done with a flogger if not used properly. Once satisfied with the flogger, she turned around to show off her backside to the camera. Making sure her diaper was visible, she began to swing the flogger over her shoulder, striking her back. With each strike, Liz moaned loudly into her gag, the pleasure and pain mixing together to create a heady sensation. She switched hands, swinging the flogger over her other shoulder, the falls landing heavily on her back. Liz was lost in her own world now, the sensation of the flogger on her skin and the tightness of her diaper causing her cock to leak more precum. When she was finished, she slumped back down in her computer chair, trying to catch her breath while slobber and drool leaked from her gag. Her back was marked with bright pink welts from the impact of the flogger. It had been a good show, but she knew it was time to bring this show to an end. Liz took a deep breath before reaching down to open one of the drawers of her computer desk. She knew what she was looking for was in there somewhere, but her fingers fumbled as she dug around in the disorganized drawer. Her heart was pounding as she felt the eyes of hundreds of viewers waiting for her next move. The chat was buzzing with anticipation of what Liz would do next. Every move she made was being closely watched and analyzed by the eager audience. Finally, Liz's hand closed around what she was looking for. She pulled out a small pink vibrator and held it up to the camera, the bright light glinting off the smooth surface. Instantly, the viewers began to react, their messages flooding the chat room. Liz couldn't help but smile from behind her gag as she held the vibrator in her hand, knowing full well the effect it was having on her audience. She moved it slowly, teasingly, holding their attention as she showed it off to the camera, all while stoking their desire for what was to come next and what came next had the full attention of her viewers. She had one hand buried between her legs, directly above her diaper, pressed up against the small pink vibrator she was using to send ripples of pleasure into her body. Her other hand had been slipped down the front of her diaper and was now moving frantically against her throbbing cock. Both efforts were now guiding her pleasure as she bit down on her gag in order to muffle her moans of delight. She could feel the wetness pooling on her breasts from the drool and slobber as she came closer and closer to orgasm. Her body shuddered increasingly with every second as the waves of pleasure grew in intensity. Finally, Liz couldn't take it anymore and let out one last guttural scream as she experienced the powerful orgasm, spilling her cum into her diaper. Liz collapsed back in the chair, panting with pleasure and satisfaction, enjoying the aftermath of her powerful orgasm. She felt relieved and content, knowing that she had left her viewers with something they wouldn't soon forget. Liz sat back in her computer chair, exhausted but elated from the success of her cam show. She glanced over at the room chat, and was blown away by the number of messages that had come in during her performance. She scrolled through them, reading each one carefully. They were all full of praise and compliments, and Liz found herself proud of the show she had just put on for her audience. As she read through the messages, she couldn't shake the feeling of nervousness that had been building up inside her throughout the show. She knew that what she was about to do was risky, but there was no turning back now. Heart racing, Liz reached up and slowly unclipped the nipple clamps from her breasts. She winced in pain as blood began to flow back into her breasts, and let out a soft moan into her gag. With shaking hands, she reached into another drawer of her computer desk and pulled out a piece of white printer paper. Her heart racing, she slowly brought the paper up to view of the camera. The paper read "For Sale, highest offer within next 10 mins." Below was the address for her Venmo account. Liz's heart pounded as she watched the messages flood in. She knew that what she was doing was risky, but she felt compelled to do this. Liz sat there patiently waiting while watching her Venmo account. A few beads of sweat trickled down her forehead as she took note of all the transaction requests that were popping up. Her eyes darted back and forth between her computer screen and her phone, scanning each transaction while double-checking the names with the names of the people in the chat of her cam room. She had only ten minutes to make her decision, and the clock on her computer seemed to tick away at an agonizingly slow pace. Something about this auction had her on edge. Maybe it was the sheer amount of offers she was getting. She knew she had put on a good show, but she did not know this many people would want her. As the clock ticked closer to the ten-minute mark, Liz's heart began to race. She knew she had to make a decision soon. Finally, the ten minutes were up, and Liz tapped accept for the highest offer she received, declining all the others. It was official; she had just sold herself to a lesbian woman that she knew nothing about. Before Liz shut off her computer, she quickly sent a message to the user from the chat who had just bought her. The message provided her new owner with her address and where the spare apartment key was located. Liz knew she was taking a big risk, but from the beginning she had felt the desire to do this. Even if it meant putting herself in a vulnerable position. She could only hope that she had made the right decision.. Exiting the den, Liz walks into the living room with the small pink vibrator clutched tightly in her hand. Her heart races with anticipation, her palms sweaty as she realizes that she is about to embark on a new adventure. Kneeling down by the couch and the coffee table, Liz took a deep breath, feeling her body tremble with excitement. On the coffee table lay a roll of clear packing tape and a breathable bondage hood that had no mouth or eye holes. She reaches for the clear packing tape, feeling the texture of the tape against her fingers. With a sense of urgent need, Liz secures the small pink vibrator to the front of her diapered crotch, the soft silicone a comforting presence against her diaper. Next, she pulls the bondage hood over her head, plunging herself into darkness. The small, rasping sound of her own breath echoes in the confined space, heightening her sense of vulnerability. Fumbling in the dark, Liz uses the clear packing tape to bind her own wrists to the best of her ability. It is a bit tricky, but she manages with practiced ease. With her wrists now bound and the small pink vibrator humming away between her legs, Liz waits on her knees in the darkness. She knows that she is now at the mercy of whoever her new owner might be. But the anticipation of what is to come is almost unbearable, sending shivers of desire down her spine. She knows that she is ready for anything and everything, ready to be taken to the limits of her pleasure and beyond. And with that thought, Liz closes her eyes and surrenders herself to the unknown. It seemed like an eternity that Liz had been waiting in her living room like this. Self bound, hooded, and with a vibrator taped to the crotch of her diaper. The room was silent except for the buzzing of the vibrator and its vibrations against her diaper. Liz found herself moaning into her gag, lost in the sensations. Thoughts of her new owner raced through her head. What would she look like? How would she treat her? Liz had never been auctioned off before, never been a submissive. But the thrill of it all had enticed her, and now she was eagerly waiting for her new mistress to claim her. Lost in thought, she didn't hear her front door open. Not until she felt the presence of someone in the room with her. Liz felt herself being lifted up from the floor by this person. She could tell that it was a woman. So her self-auction had worked, her new owner was indeed a woman, a lesbian at that. This woman led Liz down the hall towards her bedroom, and as they walked, the woman uttered one simple sentence, "Are you ready to be a good slut for your new mistress." In shock, Liz realized the woman who had bought her, one of the many women who had watched her cam show tonight, was the manager of her apartment building. All Liz could do was let out a muffled reply of compliance and excitement. She was now entirely at her new mistress's mercy, eager to please and explore. The night was just beginning for her.

An impossibly awkward silence hung in the office as Theodore sat patiently, waiting for a response. While it had been some time since he had been employed, he was sure that he had filled out his resume without any issue. He wasn’t sure what was causing his potential employer to hesitate. Although, given the circumstances, he did have one leading theory. “Theodore, yes?” Lydia asked, an eyebrow raised, “You are sure you want to work here?” Theodore tilted his head, the lioness’s question taking him off guard. Especially since her tone was bordering on disbelief. Was that really the first question on her mind? “Yes ma’am. Is there something the matter? I am sure I’ve met all the necessary qualifications.” “Theodore, you may not be aware, but this department,” Lydia paused, carefully considering her words. “All the other employees of this department are…” “Women?” The mouse asked innocently. “Queens.” The lioness replied bluntly. “The felines of this department tend to all have a preset mindset on rodents such as yourself. You may find them to be rather…overbearing.” Theo shook his head. He wasn’t going to let something as trivial as species work him out of a good job. “That won’t be an issue for me. All I ask is that you give me a fair shot.” Even after that admission, Lydia’s face still showed signs of uncertainty. “It’s not that I don’t want to hire you. In fact, I think you are perfect for this position. Overqualified, even. But the workers of this office can prove to be a very intense bunch. I only thought it my duty to give you fair warning, is all. Few people apply for your position. Especially not with such eagerness.” Theo held back a scoff. Lydia spoke as if they were plotting to tear him apart. He knew that this was a place of business. He believed that he would be treated with the upmost respect. And the position of office counselor sounded easy enough. “Believe me, ma’am. I am sure I’ll get along just fine. Who knows? I might end up becoming quite popular.” His words must have struck a chord with her, because her unsure grin had shifted into an easy smile. “I suppose that settles it. I look forward to having you in my office.” Lydia extended her paw for a shake. “You’ll start on Monday.” *** While Theodore was more than grateful to have his own office, he wasn’t very keen on how everything was laid out. Right off the bat, he noticed how juvenile the place had looked. The walls were painted an unflattering pastel blue. The furniture was also very colorful, including his desk and a few small chairs strewn about the room. The multicolored cabinets in the corner were rather tall, better suited for an animal much larger than himself. He even noticed that the carpet was a lighter shade than the rest of the office. The office felt like that of a social worker. One who worked with very young children. Maybe many of the workers here were mothers and felt more at home here. Maybe the previous employee liked this style. Whatever the case, Theodore was not a fan. “I might have to do a bit of redecorating later on.” Theodore mused to himself, still giving the place a once-over. Just as he was in the middle of taking mental design notes, Theodore’s ears perked up at the sound of the door opening behind him. “Oh my gosh.” Said the surprise guest. It was a female cheetah, dressed in a trendy fashion, who could not have been more than twenty years old. “No way! I can’t believe Lydia actually got one!” Got one? What an odd way to refer to a new coworker. Lydia did mention that this position was hard to fill. Maybe she was excited to have a new “office counselor” or however it was called. “Umm, hello. I’m Theodore. I would love to get better acquainted, but I’m still getting settled in at the moment. Do you mind coming back later?” Apparently, that was not an option. The cheetah closed the door behind her and walked over to Theodore, a giddy smile on her face. She kneeled down to meet the mouse at eye level, staring him down. The mouse said nothing, taking a cautionary step back. “Umm. I really am—" She stuck a paw under Theodore’s chin and began to scratch. With the other free paw, the cheetah began to rub the back of his neck in a smooth circular motion. She had soon worked into a natural rhythm, patting him down tenderly. It felt quite nice. “Aww, you’re such a sweetie. I can tell, it’s gonna be so much fun having you around the office!” The cheetah’s bubbly tone remained as she scratched and petted the new hire, not seeing anything inappropriate with the treatment. “You can call me Ms. Shari, okay?” Theodore couldn’t even muster up a nod in response. The sudden comforting motions had already molded him like putty. He knew this type of behavior was not appropriate for the workplace and was surprised that Shari already spoke with such a sense of familiarity. Despite not wanting to stereotype, it was very clear Shari was a fast-moving woman. “M-miss Shari…” The mouse mumbled, “I don’t think we should be doing this at work. Maybe after we get to know each other better?” Theodore protested, but his pleas were as ineffective as they were half-hearted. Shari had already scooped Theo up and cradled him tenderly. Shari simply smiled down at him. “You really are too sweet. You remind me of those cute talking dolls. The ones that say little phrases when you squeeze them. But I suppose it’s scratches and pets in your case. I would totally love to take you out after work. But I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Shari stuck a claw down Theo’s trousers, and pulled at the waistband. The elastic snapped back as she pulled her hand away, her mental quarry being answered. “Looks like I am the first one here. Don’t worry, Teddy. I’m not going to keep you all to myself. I just wanted to be the one to break you in.” Very gently, Shari laid the mouse on his back atop his new desk. She ran a claw through the side of his briefs, tossing them aside after rendering them useless. Shari shot the mouse a wink, and crouched behind the desk, as if to retrieve something. Was this really happening!? This was a scene pulled right out of a smutty film. When Theodore had landed this job, lewd acts such as this never once crossed his mind. Yet, here he was, getting “broken in” on his first day of the job. All the while, Theodore did nothing to stop it from happening. Why was that? Maybe it was a case of idle curiosity. If this cheetah—this young queen—wanted to show him her idea of office hospitality, who was he to stop her? No. Deep down, Theodore knew why he didn’t resist. The dopey smile on his face was clear evidence of that. Theodore’s excitement quickly shifted into confusion as the big cat reemerged. In her paws, the cheetah now held something white and fluffy. No doubt intended to replace the khakis and briefs she had cleanly discarded. “It’s been a minute since I’ve done this. The last guy ran away in such a hurry. But don’t worry. It is just like that old saying. Changing a mouse’s diaper is just like riding a bike. After you do it once, you never forget how.” Shari leaned in closer to Theodore, their noses and whiskers only inches away from each other. Shari saw his tiny chest move up and down rapidly, and smiled, “And believe me, I have done this more than once.” Theodore’s body was now running hot and cold. Really, it was more accurate to say that he was running hot and hot. This dream had suddenly shifted into an odd nightmare. Theodore couldn’t stop all the excited feelings built up moments ago. At the same time, he had never felt so embarrassed before. This woman, a total stranger really, had said that she plans to dress him like a baby. Him, a fully grown mouse! Even worse, this office was already perfectly equipped for such a task. All the while, Shari did her job with the upmost efficiency. She hoisted his legs up, sliding the padding under him quickly. She plucked his swaying pink tail and fed it through the back hole gently. Powder and oil were rubbed liberally into Theodore’s skin and fur. The skin-on-skin contact served to raise the mouse’s heart rate even further. Theodore panted and gripped the desk while Shari hummed a simple tune. In the end, the diaper was taped up, nice and snug, hiding all of Theodore’s excitement behind a wall of white fluff. “Perfect. I always thought that if this office gig didn’t work out, I could go try for childcare. Of course,” Shari grabbed one of Theo’s cheeks for a quick pinch, “I don’t think any of those kids could be as cute as you, Teddy.” Theodore squirmed on the desk. “Ms. Shari!? You put a diaper on me!” It was an obvious statement, but the only one he could muster. He was still utterly bewildered. “That’s right, Teddy! Standard procedure for any cute little mice that scurry into our building. But you already knew that didn’t you?” No, he didn’t! In what world was it normal to treat co-workers like overgrown infants!? Not one Theo had any intention of staying in. He tried to get his bearings back, but his sense of movement had been greatly crippled. If it wasn’t already obvious, Theodore was not used to having diapers taped over his rear. He eventually worked his way into an upright position, but it ended up helping Shari more than him. She took the opportunity to swiftly pull off his dress shirt, leaving the new hire’s chest bare. “Gah! You can’t do—Mm mph!” Theodore’s protests were cut short, as he felt something cold and rubbery invade his mouth. Shari held a finger to his mouth, making it known that whatever she put in there was meant to stay that way. What could she possibly be using to pacify his— Oh. “I was so excited to meet you today that I popped my head in here earlier. I know, I know. It spoils the surprise. But I couldn’t help myself! It has been ages since we’ve had a little mousey to play with! Especially one so adorable!” Shari accented her point with an Eskimo kiss, rubbing her nose against Theo’s. The mouse blushed hard and whimpered behind his pacifier. “Besides, it gave me a chance to pick the perfect outfit for your first day.” Just like the diaper before, Shari pulled out something fresh and babyish for Theodore to wear. Theodore didn’t have much time to look at it. Shari had already pulled off Teddy’s sock and shoes, and was feeding his legs through the new outfit. The transaction was as easy as the diaper change. Theodore was too stunned to fight, and Shari’s paws were too quick. Within two minutes flat, Theodore had been dressed snuggly in a new ensemble. He had been dressed in a footed sleeper, designed to resemble a tabby cat. His entire body was covered in orange fleece, leaving only his face visible. There was even a hood fixed with pointed ears on top. His eyes shot downward and saw a thick roundness around the crotch. It was a perfect outline of his diaper. Any queen working in the quiet office would perk her ears to the distinct sound of crinkling and know exactly who was responsible. Theodore turned around, and saw the trap door on the back, designed as a way to give easy checks and changes to actual babies. He could even see the white of his diaper peeking out underneath. All Theodore could do was stare down at himself, his mouth agape. “Aww, you’re speechless! I knew you would love it.” Shari hoisted the mouse up with ease, carrying him on her hip like an actual toddler. “Come on, let’s show you off. I’m sure the other girls will love your padded tush just as much as I do!” Theodore did not doubt that. Unfortunately, that’s what he was most afraid of. Theodore buried his head in Shari’s shoulder and quietly suckled on his pacifier. The amber nipple bobbed rhythmically in his mouth. At some point, he had begun suckling on it of his own volition. Shari forced the pacifier upon him, and he was taking to it like a duck to water. Theodore kicked his feet restlessly, the diaper sounding off its crinkly anthem, and hoped that this was the only babyish habit he would develop today. The pair came to a sudden stop, as Shari arrived at a door on the other side of the office. “Oh Naomi!” Shari began in a singsong, “There’s someone very special who wants to see you!” There was a pregnant pause after that. The pair waited, Theodore growing more confused and antsy. “Shari,” A dry voice from the other side of the door finally answered, “You don’t have to do this every morning. You can come in if you want.” The cheetah chuckled to herself. “I know that. But I’m with someone. He makes very good first impressions!” There was another pause after that, although, one not nearly as silent. From the other side, Theodore could swear he heard heavy breathing. Panting? Purring? He felt himself shrinking in the cheetah’s cradle, the sounds prompting a primal sense of fear. The sounds finally subsided, and the two were once again waiting in silence. “Come in…” beckoned a low and deep growl of a voice. The party reacted accordingly. Theodore whimpered softly, and Shari walked inside. Her fur was a fine shade of black that shined cleanly under her violet pantsuit. Her deep yellow eyes stayed tracking Theodore from the second he and Shari entered the room. Her facial expression and demeanor gave her an aura of poise and precision. An aura that matched perfectly with the tight and orderly den that was her office. Despite her outward composure, Theodore could tell there were more intense feelings lurking behind her eyes. “Good morning, Shari. Who is your adorable little friend?” Her words sounded friendly and warm, even while her sights stayed pinned to the pacified prey that was Theodore. Theodore nuzzled even closer to his feline captor. Given the circumstances, he was starting to feel much safer in Shari’s paw than anywhere else. Between the two big cats in the room, the one cradling him seemed far less imposing. “His name is Teddy! He’s the new guy Lydia emailed us about.” With a quick flick of her paw, Shari plucked the pacifier out of Theodore’s mouth. “Go on. Introduce yourself!” While the spotlight that beamed on him was only metaphorical, he still felt an intense heat shining on him. It was not because of the sleeper either. The pressure of having these two office ladies stare down at him was a lot. Naomi was giving him no quarter. She sat on the edge of her desk, patiently waiting for Theodore’s pitch. His arrival was no doubt the highlight of her day, as Lydia had apparently taken the liberty of alerting everyone in the building beforehand. “M-my name is Theodore. I was supposed to start working here today…” There was a small drop of confidence that had not yet been drained from Theo’s body. Unfortunately, while it was enough to get him to speak, there was none left for his voice to use. The result was Theo speaking in a quiet, mousy voice, and two felines cooing at him. “He’s a total sweetheart. As soon as I met him, he tried to ask me for a date. A date! Isn’t that precious?” Naomi chuckled lightly. “I suppose some men cannot help themselves in the presence of beautiful women.” Naomi fixed her gaze back at the mouse. “Does that sound right, Mr. Teddy? Are you going to be our little office flirt?” Theodore responded by burying his head in Shari’s arm, like a toddler being cooed at by his aunt and uncles. “Aww, feeling shy? Maybe Shari is more your type? Into younger women, I take it.” “I think he likes you! He just hasn’t got the chance to know you yet. Why don’t I drop him off here so you two can get acquainted?” The very notion caused Naomi’s eyes to swell and grow huge. She let out another low purr that was only muted by the sound of her claws scraping at her desk. In an equal reaction, Theodore buried himself deeper into Shari’s carriage. He wished so badly that he could scurry away back to the hole he called home. But he couldn’t do that, still stuck in the grasps of a women much stronger and faster than him. He was only able to stare back at the predator, and he saw that his fear was perfectly reflected in her deep black pupils. “Oh!?” Naomi pulled herself back and began to regain her lost composure. “I mean, are you sure? You are the one who saw him first. It wouldn’t be right for me to steal him away from you.” Shari scoffed, “Don’t try and act all restrained. You were the first one in Lyn’s office after this little cutie finished his interview last week. I bet good money that you probably lost sleep over him this weekend.” Oh dear. Theodore hadn’t yet considered the weight of the fact that his arrival was already common knowledge. Lydia might as well have sounded the dinner bell. Judging by the reactions of these first two co-workers, he was going to be a very popular addition. “You always read me so well. But I really shouldn’t be playing right now.” “Come on, you’ve earned it. You’ve worked so much that you could take two days off with the little guy and still be ahead of everyone. Here, watch.” And without warning, Shari had pulled Theo away, and forced him into Naomi’s arms. Theo was sweating bullets, subjecting his pacifier to a flurry of panicked suckles. With her stoic gaze, Naomi was much harder to read. But she clearly was not complaining about the new arrangement. “See? I know you two are going to get along great together.” Shari glanced down at her watch. “I gotta run. If you need to change him, all the stuff is still in the old spot. If you want, I can tag back in at lunch time.” Shari waved and left in a hurry. “Have fun you two.” The door was shut, and Theodore had traded one predator for another. “Don’t speak. I want to enjoy this moment.” Her words were firm and confident, and her gaze had relaxed to a stoic state. “I can tell this all must be very shocking to you. Most men who end up in this office don’t do so willingly.” There it was again. That familiar sentiment. He had only been “working” for less than a day, but it was easy to see why this role was so hard to fill. “You are different, little Teddy. You signed up for this. You applied to this position like any other, not knowing any better.” Naomi paused, watching as the timid little mouse averted his gaze in order to dodge the question. “I thought so. You have such honest eyes, little Teddy. Unfortunately, you still managed to end up in my den all the same. I have a special way of greeting little rodents who find themselves here.” Naomi brushed the hood of Theo’s sleeper down. She leaned in closer and closer, until finally— “Mwah!” Naomi had planted a kiss on Theodore’s bare cheek. She didn’t stop at one. Soon, she was raining down blows of affection on his cheeks again and again. Theo fussed and squirmed, but he was no match for the predator’s precision. This panther’s passion persisted, as she had plenty of love to give. “Well?” Naomi asked in a playful tone. “Did I change your mind? Or do you still prefer younger women?” Naomi pulled the pacifier out of Theodore’s mouth, finally allowing the mouse to speak. It took Theodore a moment to find his bearings, but he managed to formulate a response. “I…I don’t understand! Why are you all treating me like this? Why do you think it’s okay to treat a grown adult like this? I’m not a baby!” “That is true. Babies are too young to appreciate this. That is why having little mice like you is much more fun. We get to spoil you rotten, and you get to appreciate every second of it.” “But I don’t want to be spoiled! I want to be treated as an adult! I want to work!” “Work?” A wry smile grew on Naomi’s face, “Well, you shouldn’t worry yourself over something like that. This office has plenty of hard-working grown-ups as is. But I do have something to keep a cutie like you entertained until lunchtime.” Naomi, as punctual as ever, had prepared for this meeting beforehand, like a scheming villain. She didn’t expect to meet with the mouse so early, but was happy with the end result all the same. From behind the corner of her desk, Naomi kicked out something made to accommodate Teddy. It was a baby walker, colored a garish shade of pink all over. There were many different toys and doodads designed to catch the attention of someone much younger than Theodore. Younger, but not much smaller. Before he could even protest, Naomi had shoved the mouse right into the open seat of the walker. Theodore immediately noticed how easily he sank into the seat. He also noticed, by anxiously kicking his feet, that he was unable to reach the floor below. To get out, he would need the help of someone much taller than him. “There we go, all nice and snug. This is a little something I like to have around when I want to spend time with any mice in the office. Watching you play gives me that extra jolt I need to get through the day. Much more interesting that fish swimming around in a glass tank.” Naomi set down an activity book and a packet of crayons in front of Theodore. “You can work on coloring in-between the lines. There’s even a couple of math problems in there, if you are feeling extra clever today. If you do a good job, I’ll even tear out the page and hang it on the fridge in the breakroom.” “This is ridiculous!” He yelled, “Let me out of here this instant!” He fuzzed and bounced, desperately trying to free himself. Naomi slammed her paws down in front of Teddy. She bared her fangs and let out a low growl. Teddy immediately recoiled, his eyes wide with shock. “Do not try my patience, little one. By my account, I gave you the appropriate treatment for a mouse in this office. I can take you out now, but it will only be so that I can give you a spanking on your bare bottom. Now you sit here and play, because I won’t ask twice.” It was all too much. The dam had finally broken, and Theodore was wetting his diaper out of fear. Both parties perked their ears at the sound of a wet hiss hitting the once white padding. Theodore whimpered and shut his eyes tight. A small part of him wished he still had a pacifier in his mouth for comfort. He might as well have something to suckle on. There was no way now that he would convince Naomi, or anyone else in this office, that he was anything more than a helpless kit. “And you were trying to tell me that you weren’t a baby. Well, us grown-ups can’t drop everything to please fussy little brats like you. You will just have to sit on that soggy tush of yours for a few hours.” Naomi offered up Teddy’s pacifier back into his mouth. This time, having learned his lesson, he graciously accepted the rubber nipple and began to suckle. It only took one stern talking to, but Theodore learned quickly not to challenge the queens of this office. He shuffled to a random page, grabbed a crayon, and tried his best to look busy. Naomi smiled down at him and continued her own work. Theo gulped, knowing he was in for a long first day… … The activity book was doing a poor job at keeping Theodore active. He managed to finish coloring a page depicting young children playing during recess. However, he didn’t feel accomplished at all after he had finished. The other parts of the book didn’t treat him any better. The math section was nothing more than basic addition. The numbers barely even passed the double digits, and he felt his attention begin to sway. “That’s enough fun for now, sweetie.” Naomi said, jolting the mouse’s attention, “It’s almost lunchtime, and we need to get you fed and ready for your nap.” Naomi pulled away the activity book. “Did you make sure to fill up a page for me, hmm?” “Yes Ma’am.” He responded quickly, “But I hadn’t packed a lunch this morning. I don’t eat very much, you see.” “Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m sure we can find something for you to munch on.” She waved him off, still pawing through the activity book. “Excellent work, Teddy.” Naomi must have found his effort satisfactory. He didn’t feel accomplished, but Theodore nodded, nonetheless. It was better to just grin and bare it for today. As soon as five rolled around, he would be home free, and ready to quit this awful job. Theo allowed himself to be lifted out of the baby seat, and cradled like before. However, he felt a new wave of anxiety, as Naomi stepped out of her office. He kept his head down and his eyes closed shut, but still heard a chorus of new voices cooing his way. “Is that really him?” “Lydia did say he was coming today.” “That outfit is so cute!” “Shh, I think he might be sleeping!” “Naomi must have tuckered him out!” “Hey, save some for the rest of us!” Theodore did not dare make a sound. He hadn’t yet braced himself for another humiliating meet-and-greet. Heels clacking. Doors creaking open. He was still blind to the world and had to rely on his other senses to help him. Eventually, he realized Naomi had come to a stop, and she began to rub his back. “Hey, we’re here.” Theodore popped up his head and scanned the room. He gathered that he was in the break room. He saw a fridge on one side of the room, along with a sink and a small microwave. His eyes landed on another big cat sitting in the corner of the room. And he immediately ducked his head down again. “Oh my gosh! I’m sorry sweetie. I didn’t mean to spook you.” “He’s just shy. I think I was too rough with him earlier. I had scolded him for misbehaving.” Theodore heard an unfamiliar voice going “ha-rump!” followed by the sound of a low growl. “Naomi, you have to be gentle with the little ones. You probably scared the poor dear senseless.” “I didn’t mean to. I just got carried away. I’m sure he’ll be fine. I’ll be more careful next time.” The tiger nodded, and turned towards the cowering mouse, “Hello there, sweetie. You can call me Ms. Sophie. I’m going to look after you now. It’s very nice to meet you.” Theodore peeked at the new figure. He had noticed a colorful blouse, covered with a flower petal design, over a large orange body with fine black stripes. She was a tiger and was rather well-built. She not only towered above Theo but was plainly a foot taller than Naomi herself. Despite this, Sophie didn’t invoke the sense of fear Naomi had earlier. This was the opposite. Her smile was warm and inviting. His nose twitched to catch the scent of the flowery perfume she wore. “Sophie is very experienced working with little ones like you. She is also much nicer than either me or Shari. You be good for her, okay?” “I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I can already tell he’s going to be a peach.” This transfer was much smoother. Theodore easily allowed himself to be passed off to Sophie. Her grasp was just as warm and inviting as advertised. “I’ll make sure no one bothers you two,” Was all that Naomi said as she made her leave. “Hey there, sweetie. Naomi tells me your name is Teddy?” “Y-yes, my name is Teddy—Theodore! Oh, dear.” That awful nickname was starting to get to him. Every single aspect of today was wearing him down. He had at least managed to make it to lunch time. All Teddy needed to do was grin and bear it. “It’s quite all right, darling. I think Teddy is a very cute name. More importantly, how about we get some grub in you? You’ve probably worked up an appetite since this morning.” The special accommodations made for his arrival had not yet let up. Amongst a series of plain look furniture, there stood one wooden high-chair. Just like before, he fit inside perfectly. He wasn’t even surprised anymore. He was buckled in, tray pushed back, and about to be fed like a hapless infant. He was not impressed by his “lunch” either, which appeared to be a bowl of oatmeal and a sippy cup filled with juice. He reactively turned his head as the tiger brought a spoon to his mouth. “Um, I’m sorry but this is—” “Too hot?” Sophie paused, blowing on the warm spoonful before resuming. “There we go. Now, open wide, Teddy.” Teddy shook his head. “No, that isn’t the issue. I—” “Not hungry? That can’t be right. It will be much harder for you to sleep if you have an empty stomach.” “I can feed myself.” He didn’t give her another chance to cut in. The mouse made sure to not raise his voice at her, having learned his lesson from the last queen. “Yes? I’m sure you can, Teddy. But this is just how things go in the office. It really isn’t that big of a deal.” Sophie spoke in sweet tones, though she didn’t sound all too sincere. Her mental image of Teddy trying to feed himself was likely akin to a toddler mashing food everywhere. Theodore sighed. In truth, he was already expecting answer such as that. He just wasn’t willing to accept this treatment without a fight. “Very well.” “Thank you! If you want, you can hold and drink from the sippy cup all by yourself. Most of the other ladies would have opted for a baby bottle, but I trust you.” Trying again, Sophie stirred the oatmeal around, and brought a spoonful to Teddy’s mouth. He didn’t try to fuss or squirm. He didn’t need Sophie to pretend it was a plane or a train. He simply accepted the warm bite of food. It was…good. Better than good. Theo picked hints of brown sugar, as well as smartly chosen fruit flavors. It was sweet, but not overbearingly so. While oatmeal was more of a breakfast food, a nice homecooked meal was welcome given the current circumstances. “How is it? I hope my cooking isn’t too plain for your taste. It’s been some time since I tried to cook for a mouse’s palette.” “No, it’s good. You made it perfectly. Thank you.” Sophie squealed, “You are so very welcome! I’m glad I could make you something you like.” The feeding continued without complaint. Theodore readily accepted every bite of his homecooked meal, and Sophie was more than happy to supply him. Theodore was even allowed to treat himself with a few swigs of juice straight from his new sippy cup. The cup took more effort than he initially expected, forcing him to actively suckle at it to get the sweet nectar inside, but he managed. The familiar taste of cool apple juice was a perfect match with his hot meal. “There we go. I bet you feel much better now.” Sophie scooped up the dishes and walked over to the sink to let them soak. “I wish Lydia told us more about you. You really are a treat.” Theodore perked up. Just hearing her name spoken again sent a reverb through his system. He was reminded of how simple everything started, only a few days ago. Lydia said she had given him “fair warning” about this position beforehand. What a load of bunk. She really believed her handwave of a warning was fair? How about saying “your office is basically a glorified nursery” or “every person in this office will try to baby you” instead? Teddy swallowed, “Excuse me, Do you think it’s possible that I could meet with Lydia later today? “I don’t think that is such a good idea Teddy. Ms. Lydia is very busy, so she probably doesn’t have time to play with you. Besides, we need to get you ready for your nap.” Theodore frowned. Sophie was somewhat more reasonable than the other ladies of the office, but not by much. The highchair feeding should have made that obvious. Still, Theodore had to at least try to get his voice heard. He had some very choice words he needed to share with his employer. When Sophie came back, Theodore was hoisted for the umpteenth time today, and cradled into her arms once more. Teddy whimpered as the two approached the break room door. “I’ll be quick, Teddy. No one is going to bother you today.” Even though the trip was nonnegotiable, Sophie still tried her best to soothe him. Teddy instinctively buried his head into the big cat’s shoulder. “Just make it through today” He thought to himself, “Just a few more hours, and we’re home free.” He didn’t hear as much commotion as Sophie walked him through the office. He did hear a few scattered snickers and giggles, but not much else. It seemed that Naomi had kept her promise. When he heard another door creaking and felt Sophie come to a stop, Teddy suspected that they had arrived at their destination. When Sophie rubbed his back and said, “We’re here, sweetheart,” The mouse finally perked his head back up. They were back in his office. Well, office was giving it too much credit. He realized now that this place was meant to be his playroom. The layout made much more sense with that in mind. They really spare no expense when it comes to babying him. It would be flattering if it weren’t so humiliating. “Ready for your nap, Teddy?” As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was feeling rather tired now. A full meal tended to have that effect. Even so, Teddy was not ready to drop out just yet. He was still curious about a few things. Namely, why every person in this office was so obsessed with treating mice like babies. “Could we skip the nap, Ms. Sophie? I would much rather we talk. Perhaps, get to know each other better?” Really, Teddy was looking for an opening to probe. But Ms. Sophie shook her head, “I’m afraid not, dear. I’ve already used up all my time with you today. Besides, we have a schedule to follow.” Time? Schedule? That was different. He remembered the other ladies saying something similar. Was this treatment an organized effort of theirs? It would make sense, in some twisted way. Before Teddy could come to a conclusion, he felt the buttons on the sleeper’s trap door being popped open. “Hey, what are you—eek!” He felt a large paw squeeze the back of his diaper. Immediately Teddy was reminded of the big accident he had in Naomi’s office. The padding had become cold and clammy since then, and Teddy had somehow gotten used to the feeling. “Oh my,” mused Sophie, as she continued to grope Teddy’s soaked pamper, “You did a number on this one. No wonder you’ve been so squirmy. Let’s get you freshened up.” Sophie laid Teddy back onto his new desk (which was becoming his new changing table. Teddy was spared no modesty. The tabby sleeper was unzipped, and Teddy was left completely exposed, aside from the soaked diaper he was still taped in. Sophie brought her large paws to Teddy’s chest and leaned him down gently. Teddy clamped his eyes shut. He already saw one big cat fit him into a diaper. He didn’t need an encore performance. Luckily, Sophie didn’t mind, and quickly got to work. “Just grin and bear it. Nothing we haven’t been through before.” Teddy shivered as his exposed crotch was hit by a blast of cool air, courtesy of the office’s AC. He gripped his desk as his exposed crotch was met with a cool wet wipe, courtesy of Ms. Sophie. His legs were lifted, then dropped again. The feeling of something hard and wooden was replaced his something smooth and soft. Once again, the diaper crinkled as it was folded over. Tapes scrunched as they were pulled together. Teddy’s mobility, and his pride, was shot as the diapering was finished. “All done! Thank you for cooperating. You are such a good boy.” When Teddy looked up, he saw his diaper was not only dry, but had been size up considerably. This new fit would not even allow him to close his legs. “It’s so thick! Why do I have to wear this one?” “Because this is an overnight diaper, sweetie. Little ones have a tendency to dripple in their diapers during bedtimes, yes?” It was only now that Teddy realized how little Sophie thought of him. Every other woman in this office already thought of him as a baby, and there was no good reason to think she was any different. “Don’t you think this is overkill?” “Really?” Sophie asked, her tone playful, “Well, a certain mouse almost leaked into his sleeper today. I think that’s a good reason to be cautious.” Teddy blushed, knowing that he had no way to counter her point. “Can I at least have something to wear?” “Well, I think that sleeper of yours needs to be washed again. But, I do have something just as good.” Having said that, Sophie pulled out a new juvenile outfit to replace the old one. “I picked it out myself. Isn’t it charming?” It was another kitten themed outfit, unsurprisingly. This one was a calico-themed onesie. The coat was white with splotches of orange and black all over. Considering the fact calicos were usually female, he wasn’t a fan. His legs were exposed, and the thick overnight diaper peeked out from the sides, leaving nothing to the imagination per his diapered-status. “There we go. A perfect fit. Ready for your nap?” Teddy sighed, “Very well.” He was as ready as he was going to get. At this point he would be fighting Sophie, as well as his body’s natural need for rest. The best course of action was to fold for now and persevere. All he had to do was run out the clock, after all. “Do you have a blanket or…” This day never stopped throwing surprises at Teddy. From a closet that was behind his desk, Sophie had rolled out a crib. Small and low to the ground, the crib was nothing special. Just a simple design that you’d see in any baby aisle. Still, it was the perfect size for a certain mouse. Sorry about the size. It was all that we could manage to fit into the closet. But there is more than enough room for you to fit in, and it doesn’t even take up much space.” Sophie prattled on, but her concerns and Teddy’s were not one and the same. “I’m going to sleep in there?” Teddy asked. Although, the question’s answer was obvious. Obvious, and staring him dead in the face while rolling on four wheels. His well of disbelief had not dried completely. “It is a lot cozier than it looks.” Sophie reassured him, missing the point entirely. “C’mon, up we go.” She hoisted the mouse up in her arms once again and walked him over towards the crib. “Ms. Sophie, this really is not necessary. If you only let me—Mph!” His words were cut short by a rubber teat once more. Same room. Same day. Same pacifier. Different predator. What a roundabout trip. “This will help you sleep. You’ve already taken such a liking to it.” With a smile, Sophie lowered the mouse into the crib, paying no mind to the cranky look in his eyes. With one swift motion, a “Woosh!” and a “Click!” The cribs bars were raised high up and locked into place. The mouse’s grouchy expression had been swapped up to a wide-eyed one. “Don’t be nervous. Someone will be back to check on you in a while. You focus on getting your rest, okay?” As Sophie left, she clicked the lights off and locked the door, leaving the mouse unattended for the first time in hours. As soon as Sophie left, Teddy roused himself up. Even when standing on his tippy-toes, he had no chance of reaching the top of the crib. After a meager effort, Teddy fell back on his cushy tush, easily defeated by his own lacking height. Teddy laid his head back, gave his pacifier a cursory suckle, and noticed how heavy his eyelids felt. Just like how he could not escape the queens in the office, he could not escape the nap that he had been sentenced to. *** “Wakey, wakey sleepyhead.” Teddy did not want to wake. Sleep was treating him well. The soft clouds below him were treating him well. The sweet flavor in his mouth was treating him well. Wakey, wakey can wait, wait. “Mmont wanna…” “It’s time to get up. We have to leave now.” Teddy did not want to leave. For the first time today, he was enjoying himself. No overly motherly big cats. No threats of spankings. This was the life. “Mama…Sweepy.” Teddy mumbled. He was making an educated guess when he called out for Mama. The feeling of peace and serenity felt like they were ripped straight from his childhood memories. “Aww, that’s sweet. But my name isn’t mama.” The voice laughed, “It’s Ms. Lydia.” Teddy was finally woken up. Rather suddenly, in fact. That familiar name was all he needed to rejoin the world of the waking. There stood his boss, the leader of the pack, leaning over his crib with a smug smile on her face. “You were right, Teddy.” Said the smiling lioness, “You’ve become very popular around here.” “W-wydia!” Teddy paused, spitting out the pacifier still lodged in his mouth. “Lydia! I demand an explanation!” “Who gave you permission to take up that tone with me.” Without warning, Lydia leaned over the crib, and popped the crotch buttons on Teddy’s sleeper. The diaper shifted, and Lydia pressed a paw against Teddy’s exposed diaper. “If anything, you should be demanding a diaper change. You desperately need one.” Teddy cringed as the lioness felt his soaked padding. All the juice he drank from lunch had made a transfer from his gut to his pampers overnight. It had happened so naturally, that he wasn’t even roused by it when he was sleeping. But he could not dawdle on that right now. He had to leverage what little power he had in this situation. Teddy had to make a stance, even if it was on wobbly feet. “D-don’t change the subject! Why didn’t you tell me this was going to happen? Why didn’t you tell me this entire office was baby crazy!?” Lydia rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. “You know, when you came in for that interview, I really did not see this working out. I thought that reintroducing a mouse into the office so soon was going to cause more problems. But I am happy to be proven wrong. Everyone here is doing such a good job banding together to make this work. It is truly a shame, however, that you will need to be punished on your first day. But I suppose that is what happens when you talk out of turn.” “I do believe I am very much in turn!” Teddy was sitting up now. He slammed a fist against the mattress below. “What kind of office turns workers into babies!?” That had done it. Lydia yolked up Teddy by the back of his collar and bared her fangs at him. If the mouse had anything left in the tank, he would have wet his diaper a second time. “The kind a mouse like you belongs in. You seemed to be confused. No one made you wet your diapers. No one made you throw a temper tantrum. The only thing I am making you do is accept your punishment, like the mouthy kit that you are.” With her free hand, Lydia had forced a new pacifier into Teddy’s mouth. This one was different, as it featured straps to keep it from being spat out. Satisfied, Lydia carried the mouse out of the room, and deeper into the office. Where was Lydia taking him? From what he had gathered, it was time to leave. Had a really slept to five? If that was the case, he should be heading home now. Teddy noticed how quiet it was. Everyone else must have gone home for today. Lydia opened the door to the conference room. Theodore’s jaw would have dropped if not pacifier firmly wedged inside. A clowder of queens sat in attendance. It was as if the entire building crammed into one conference room in order to greet the new blushing baby mouse. “Ladies, I would like you to meet Teddy.” Lydia gestured to the red-faced mouse for all to see, “Teddy has taken up the reins of being our office console. I want you all to try your best to make him feel welcome.” All the other workers clapped at the announcement. Teddy spotted a few familiar faces in the audience, including a certain panther, and a cheetah dressed in a trendy fashion. Lydia looked down at the frightened mouse, finally ready to cure him of his confusion. “Many queens are willing to put in a few extra hours just to play with a cute kit like you. We have an entire system in play. Ladies who work extra get the choice to spend time with you on their days off. They even get to spend time with you during break hours. It’s a very effective system. Office productivity has been observed to go as high as forty percent when a well-managed mouse is introduced. Statistics from our other branches support these numbers even further. You have a very big role to play here, Teddy. Be proud that you get to fill it.” It was all so absurd. Yet, not a single person here seemed to see it that way, except for Teddy himself. Teddy could not see a single snickering face, or any one holding back laughter. He did not get the vibe that they were acting, either. There was no hint that this was a cruel and elaborate prank. He really had signed up to be their plaything. “Unfortunately, he did not make good marks on this first day. He has a very clear problem with talking out of turn. As such, we will be ending his first day with a punishment.” Lydia’s announcement left a wave of disappointment in the meeting room. Sophie especially, who had grasped her paws over her mouth in shock. If it was any other context, Teddy might have felt horribly guilty. “Ultimately, this serves to encourage our little mouse to do better in the future. Please, do not be disappointed. Instead, let us take advantage of this opportunity to show our new employee how much we desperately want him to do better.” While Teddy was shuttering at the word “punishment” it was coming to him faster than he could react. Teddy was flipped over on his stomach, his nose to the ground. The buttons on his onesie popped, and his soaked diaper was pulled down, leaving his tush and tail completely exposed. She couldn’t be…? “Teddy,” Lydia spoke in a calm and serene tone, “This is Julia. She is from the accounting department.” Lydia brought a paw to Teddy’s chin and pointed his head upwards. His eyes landed on a young serval cat, dressed modestly. She had an awkward smile on her face, like a bookish girl who had just been asked out for prom. “Hi, hello.” Julia began. Her voice was quiet and polite. “I’m not really use to dealing with mice. I think all the other girls have more experience than me. Still, I hope I can make a good first impression.” She flashed an honest smile, and walked past Teddy, out of view. Teddy noticed that everyone else had lined up behind her. Before the mouse could begin to question why, the answer came crashing down. WHAM! Something had struck Teddy’s backside. Something hard and cool and flat and wooden. It only struck once, but it was enough to leave Teddy shook. “Ooh, Was that alright, Lydia?” “That was perfect, Julia. You are excused for today.” Teddy’s fear had become fact. The nightmare that started this morning was not ending easily. The muffled cries from behind his paci fell on deaf ears, as the next lady stepped forward. “This is Celine. She is our acting receptionist.” Celine was a lynx. A smidge older than Julia, her demeanor was much more confident than the cat before her. “You know, you look a lot smaller than the last guy. Not that I mind.” Teddy shook his head, but that did not stop the cat from circling behind him. Lydia had the mouse pinned down easily, leaving him no choice other than to accept his punishment. WHAM! He was still reeling from the previous swat, but another came all the same. Celine’s strike was even harder than the last. “This is—ah, that’s right. You already met with Shari today, yes? The youthful cheetah stared down at the whimpering mouse. Even in the late hours of the afternoon, her chipper demeanor was still present. “Hey there cutie! I really thought you were going to get the reward today. I was looking forward to smooching those cute cheeks of yours.” Shari shrugged, “Oh well! Better luck next time.” Out of sight, but not out of mind. The sight of a familiar face did not give him any hope for the next paddling. WHAM! The spankings were only getting better. Meaning, this third strike was the hardest yet. The ladies had ordered themselves by age and seniority, by right now it felt like it was by strength. To think, all these women had stayed after work just for once quick smack against his backside. Just imagine what they would do to spend a few hours with him. The same way Naomi and Sophie apparently had. If there ever needed to be proof that cats love to play with their prey, look no further than to Teddy’s tanned hide. “Chin up, Teddy,” Lydia, “You still have a lot more people to meet. There we go. Now, this is Dorothy. She works…” “…Oh dear. Did I do all right?” “You did fine, Missy. Thank you.” Missy was a snow leopard, and one of the oldest ladies in the office. She had met with her fair share of mice and had very high expectations for the newest hire. After four spanks, he had gotten the message. He did not fight back. He didn’t hiss or try to squirm away. He simply lied back and accepted the spankings he had earned. Teddy really knew how to grin and bear it. Such a fast learner. That level of intuition is so rare nowadays. This Teddy had a bright career in his future. Missy kept these thoughts to herself, however. She simply bowed and left as instructed. “You see how much life you bring into the office? Everyone here was willing to stay overtime to give you a,” Lydia brought a swift paw against Teddy’s redden backside, “Warm! Welcome. You better do your best to appreciate it.” She hiked the mouse’s still soaked diaper up back up and cradled him out of the room. “Come on, let’s get you home.” Teddy had been left utterly defeated. Before, he was actually doing quite well at avoiding his co-workers. Now, at the tail end of today, they had all banded together to give him a proper greeting. He was completely exhausted, his vision still blurred by tears. Teddy whimpered softly into his pacifier, glad to have it as a comfort. Teddy felt a cool breeze on his cheeks, along with the sound of cars driving by, and figured out that Lydia had taken him outside. Was Lydia escorting him to his car? Teddy felt himself being set down, and straps being pulled over him. Teddy felt a door shut by his right side. Confused, he rubbed the tears out of his eyes. He now realized that he was strapped into a baby seat, of an entirely unknown vehicle. This wasn’t his car! “I would have changed you before we left,” Lydia said, now sitting in the drivers seat, “But I like to try and conserve office supplies when I can. Don’t worry, I have plenty of cute prints for you to wear back home.” Teddy gave a panicked cried from his pacifier-filled mouth, “Mmah tar! Mhah tar!” “Oh, that?” Lydia glanced nonchalantly out of the driver’s side window, and saw Teddy’s car in the lonely parking lot. “I’ll be sure to have it towed later. Thank you for reminding me.” No, that’s not what he meant! Teddy groaned a defeated cry behind his pacifier. Forget a career adjustment. Teddy was getting a lifestyle adjustment. And this was not something he would be allowed to quit. “I never told you how the last guy got away did I? It was a rookie mistake on my behalf. I had left the window in his nursery open for a few minutes. He managed to scurry away, we never found him after that.” Lydia smiled and buckled her seatbelt. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. You won’t have to be on the lookout for any cracked windows in your new nursery. Especially not since I’ve had those metal bars installed over them.” And so, Lydia drove out of the office parking lot, Teddy in tow, after a successful work day. Teddy’s interview was more of formality than an actual test of his compatibility. The real test was seeing how well he gelled with his co-workers. Unfortunately, he had passed with flying colors. Many of workers went home and plotted ways to pamper Teddy on their off-days. All that the mouse could do was guess what that entailed, using today’s experiences, and his sore bottom, as hints. One thing was for sure. This was one office job that would never get boring.

Hello! I've lurked on this forum for some time and haven't posted before. I've wanted to try my hand at writing ABDL stories, so I finally buckled down and finished one. Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Feedback and critique is welcomed and appreciated! ----- Mama Bear Syndrome Scott Dawson crept into his home, not daring to make a sound. He tip-toed across the violet carpet with peak stealth–as much stealth a man his size could muster. He was tall and well-built, which, unfortunately didn’t help much for producing quieter footsteps. Slowly, he peaked his head pass the door frame to the kitchen. Not a person in sight. That was a good sign…right? his wife–a woman so punctual she made the Sun jealous–was always there to greet when him arrived from work at 5:15 PM on the dot. She had made a point of it every day with one trademark greeting or another prepared. “Welcome home darling!” was most commonly seen in the first few years of their marriage, eventually proceeded by “Oh, your back already?” Before recently, Scott was used to being met with a command or chore as his greeting, reserving all the sweetness for their son Julian. “Did you take out the garbage yet?” was not quite as loving, but compared to today? He wasn’t sure which he preferred. “That’s weird,” Scott whispered to himself. “I don’t think she’s home yet. M-maybe I can just hide out in the garage or– “What are you doing?” Minerva asked. Scott nearly jumped out of his coat. Like a ghost, his wife appeared right before him without a sound. Minerva’s usual distant apathy was absent. Instead, he retained a more wide-eyed and concerned demeaner. “Wah!” Scott shrieked out. “Jeez mama, don’t sneak up on me like that!” Scott’s wife laughed and moved closer to him. She cupped his cheeks in his hands, not at all minding his personal space. “Aw, did I make you jump? I’m sorry sweetheart. Did you have a hard day today, dearie?” Minerva asked, still smushing her husband’s cheeks. “I wouldn’t want you stressed on your big day.” Scott wanted to scoff at the sentiment. He hardly considered his birthday to be ‘big day’ like it was some type of annual promotion. He didn’t see growing old as achievement—it was more of a heads up for all the grey hair he’d be expecting. Minerva, however, had the most romantic ideas when it came to birthdays. Cake, confetti, those pointy striped hats (a tradition that always confused Scott)—she spared no expense for hers truly. The parties were always private, as the pair both shared a mutual dislike for cleaning up after groups of people, despite to two never doing anything mischievous on those days. Minerva magically managed to make Scott feel younger year after year, and today was no exception. “C’mon mama,” Scott whined, “Can’t we just skip the party stuff this time?” Minerva shook her head. “Certainly not. I already have the whole day planned. Today is very special occasion. You only turn two once!” Scott had room to argue otherwise. This year, however, was already making him feel a too much younger. With his attempts to escape birthday time foiled, Scott sighed in defeat. “Yes dear,” was all he could say as let himself being led to the bathroom to be cleaned up so the ‘fun’ could begin. He thought about how worried he used to be about growing old to soon. Right now, those thoughts were the farthest thing from his mind. Minerva’s symptoms were always flaring up during the holidays. Whether it was time to celebrate Saint Paddy or Saint Nick, holidays were the perfect occasion to put Minerva in a motherly mood. Easter time that Scott got his own personal Easter egg hunt around the house, dressed as the cutest little bunny. Just last Halloween Scott wore a black-and-yellow onesie with a fussy headband for his bay-bee (get it?) outfit. New Year’s Eve? Pretty self-explanatory. A birthday like this was just par for the course. Sitting in the bathroom were the usual suspects. A large changing mat already unfolded on the bathroom floor. A diaper bag fitted to pamper any grown man. And a large package of adult diaper. Calling them adult was more than generous as they decorated with anchors and cartoon fish. It didn’t matter how long they had been married. Scott never got used to diaper changes. Minerva unzipped the front of Scott’s work jumpsuit, revealing a white t-shirt stained with dirt, and a white diaper stained with urine. Scott had wet himself on the bus ride home, and the padding had gone cold and clammy since then. He was not incontinence, it just felt easier to let go sometimes. “You poor thing. Come on, let’s get up cleaned up.” There was genuine concern in Minerva’s voice. She hated the idea of her baby boy having to squirm in a wet diaper all day. Having to wear a diaper at work was a lot easier than it sounded. Sure, the conversion with his boss was embarrassing, but the diaper was easy to hide under his jumpsuit and no one gave his any flack for it. Boxers and briefs were off the table at this stage of Minerva’s condition, and Scott had made peace with that. Scott was not in a fighting mood. He let himself be stripped of his ‘big boy clothes’ and laid on the changing mat. Minerva hummed a tune and got to work. He wrinkled his nose involuntarily as Minerva shook the baby powder over him, sweet scent never failing to make him feel small. Lavender and chamomile certainly did not scream ‘man of the house’. Scott lifted his bum and let Minerva slide the oversized padding under him. He always wondered where Minerva bought such big diapers from. Maybe there were specialty store online for people with her condition? Scott was never the most tech-savvy guy. He could barely check his email, let alone find a store where they sell giant baby diapers. While Scott was busy musing, Minerva had already finished taping his up, a few gentle pats on the front grabbing his attention. Minerva was always so gentle during diaper changes. It was one parenting duty Scott was more than happy to let Minerva take the reins on whenever it came up. She took her time and was never rough when rubbing in the powder or wiping mess away. It was a fact their son Julian was always too young to appreciate as well as something Scott would have a hard time forgetting. “All done!” Minerva chimed. She pulled Scott upright and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Arms up now,” Scott lifted his arms and Minerva pulled a white shirt over him. Scott tugged at shirt and saw navy blue collar with a matching anchor on the front. A sailor suit? A small patch of his belly was exposed, showing a patch of baby fat at his midriff. This was no doubt intentional; Scott had not put on weight recently and Minerva knew his measurements by heart. Scott quickly picked up the maritime theme. Of course, There was always theme with Minerva. He wasn’t sure why she picked a naval theme though. The idea probably just popped into her head, and she stuck with it. “Is my little sailor ready to set sail for birthday fun!?” Minerva asked. Scott nodded, trying his best to fake enthusiasm. Minerva didn’t seem to mind either way. The living room was decorated to the nines. Blue and white streamers were hung from the ceiling with care. Plush sharks and fish were set up in empty chairs as party guest. There was a big banner across the wall that read: “HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCOTTY!!!” The whole arrangement must have taken hours to set up, But Minerva didn’t look the least bit tired. She must have been working on it since morning. She was still wearing her robe and pajama bottoms. “I bet my little sailor wants to open his presents now, doesn’t he?” Scott didn’t mind jumping straight into the present. From his ‘Mommy’s’ perspective, he had been tired from playing in the sun all day was excited to get home for his birthday party. Work was tiring more often than not, so she was not too far off. Maybe Mommy was just too tired for playtime today, it was hard to tell. Scott looked around the room and walked—waddle was more like it, with way his diaper made him walk—toward the pile of wrapped packages. Scott got on his knees and lifted a rectangular package. He gave to box a few shakes, and it barely made a sound. He squeezed the box, and felt the contents push inwards. Scott wasn’t sure why he did this when it was plainly obvious what was inside. He carefully pulled back the edges of the wrapping paper, because he knew Minerva would want to reuse it next year. Inside was a package of—get this— ‘adult’ diapers. More specifically, they were a package of Snuggles: Teddy Edition brand diapers. He had become intimately familiar with Snuggles in the past year. A glance at his backside proved that much. The diapers he wore to work were simple and white, designed for people who actually incontinent. Snuggles brand was always decorated with cutesy cartoon animals or baby paraphernalia Snuggles brand was clearly designed for an audience of giant babies. Unfortunately, he had become their prime demographic. The diapers were comfortable, but Scott didn’t like to think about it. He didn’t like that he could now tell difference between two brands based on feel alone. He didn’t even like how beginning to develop a preference for certain ones. No man this age should a favorite brand of diaper. As Scott turn around, ready to open the next package, he saw Minerva waving at him and holding a disposable camera. “Don’t worry Scotty. Mommy is just taking a couple pictures for your baby book. Go on now!” Scott sighed. With all the picture Minerva took, his baby book would be a four-part series. He turned around and was on to the next package. There was a thin yellow gift sitting to the last one. He pulled back the paper to reveal a series of onesie all in his size. Minerva had probably sewn half of them herself. Minerva snapped some pictures. Next gift. There was a small green box by his foot. He lifted the top, and inside was a trove of pacifiers. There were enough colors to fill three different rainbows. Minerva snapped some more pictures. Next gift. There was a giant plush shark with a bow on it. Scott pulled off the bow a gave it a squeeze. It was sufficiently soft. He never cared for stuffed animals though. More pictures. More gifts. Pictures. Gifts. Pictures. Gifts. “Okay honey, that’s everything.” Minerva chimed. “You had a big haul this year. My little sailor got a lot of treasure this year!” Scott was just glad to be finished. Scott stood up and stretched. “Welp, that fun. Guess it time for me go beddy-bye, right Mama?” “Since when you do want to turn in early? Did my little boy get bit by the good-manners bug? We still haven’t had dinner yet.” Minerva walked up to Scott and started rubbing his tummy. “I know you worked an appetite today! You can go to bed after din-din and cake.” Yup, another attempt to dodge birthday humiliation foiled. Scott was bad when it came to exit strategies. He gave his hand to Mama and was led to kitchen. Birthday time wasn’t over just yet… The kitchen was much less decorated. The only thing birthday related he could see was cake sitting on the kitchen counter. When he saw the number two candle on top of it, his mind started to drift. Two years. So much had happened in just two years. Two years, Minerva had been her normal self. It was true that they were growing apart, but it was better than her acting like Mother Goose. Two years ago, they had been a normal family. The have an actual conversation with one another. Two years ago, their son was still— *click* Scott snapped back to the present. He looked down and realized he was already settled into his highchair; the tray being locked in place. Scott groaned. The diapers were definitely the worst part of his new lifestyle, but the highchair was a solid runner-up. Even when it was only sitting in kitchen, the giant white chair looked a joke, like it was a lost movie prop. Was that all he was now, a big joke? Some giant manbaby stuck in an unfunny comedy? The worse part was that it made him feel stuck. As soon the tray was locked into place, he couldn’t get out until Mommy said so. He hated how high up it was, forcing his feet to swing freely midair. The tips of his toes just barely missed the kitchen floor. All he could do was wait like a good little boy. No wonder babies hated those things. He didn’t even try to struggle like real baby would, less he risks breaking something. “Dinnertime! Eat all up, then when can cut your cake.” Minerva placed a plate of fish sticks and mac-and-cheese on top of the tray. His silverware was plastic and tinted blue. It wasn’t any special, but it stayed with the theme well enough. Minerva probably would have breaded the fish herself if she had the time or the energy. As Scott looked down at his tray, he the sound of stomach rumbling. Yet, he didn’t feel anything, and had not been that hungry. He looked over to Minerva—not just as a glance, he gave her a real in-depth onceover. It was the first time today that he noticed the bags under her eyes. Her face had looked so tired, so worn. He was right about her working on his party since morning. Had she even stopped to eat? She didn’t need to push herself like this for him. He didn’t want to do that, to starve herself, over something so stupid. He was supposed to look after. He wanted to hold her in his arm, forget about all the fighting, and just let her rest. “Does my special guy want his Mommy to feed him?” Minerva asked, not missing a beat. No way! Minerva needed to eat something. “No! I can it myself!” Scott hastily picked up the plastic spoon before Minerva could react. He scooped a bite of mac-and-cheese into mouth, “I can do it, see!?” He shoveled down his dinner, leaving crumbs and specks of cheese on his shirt. Pride be damned, his wife needed a break. Minerva chuckled, “My, someone’s an eager beaver all of sudden! I didn’t even get a chance to tie a bib on you. You’re going straight to the tub after dinner.” It was clear to Minerva that her baby didn’t need help feeding right now. Minerva walked over to the fridge and pulled out a small salad. It was after watching her baby plow through his dinner, Minerva realized how hungry she was. She sat next to Scott, only turning to him to help wipe some of the food stuff off his cheeks. Baby or not, Scott was always such a messy eater. Soon enough, the two had finished their dinner. Minerva had taken their plates to the kitchen sink to be washed later. Now was the time for cake. Minerva dimmed the lights and lit the birthday candle. Happy Birthday to you… This was it. This was the main event. This is part where the birthday boy gets a big slice of cake and a standing ovation. It was truly a one-of-a-kind experience, watching children with grow and nurturing their limitless potential. Everyone would look on awe of the little one, so excited to see him grow up. What kind of man would he grow up to be? Happy Birthday to you… What kind of man had he grown up to be? It was hard for Scott to say. Of course, when he was a baby, an actual baby, he didn’t have think about such grand questions like that. He was kind to other and tried to help when he could. But, when he young, he didn’t have any great ambitions beyond that. If there was one thing he had to have to life, it probably had to be… a wife. Not just someone to lean on, but someone to care for in turn. Scott like to help and be held. He liked to be needed. He followed that thought, that need, intently and it led him to Minerva. Happy Birthday sweet baby… Minerva was just like Scott. Whereas Scott always wanted to be needed, Minerva always needed to help. It was almost a tick for her. She would always push herself for others, drive someone to the moon and back, not even expecting a thanks in return. She would have worn herself to the bone a long time ago if things had stayed that way. But she met Scott, and life didn’t have to go that way. When Minerva needed to rest her weary head, Scott was there. Whenever there was too much work, Scott would pitch in. He was like a big teddy bear that you squeeze and make all of life’s problem go away for a while. Were they in love? It sure felt like it. Why not stay that way forever? That was exactly what they did. That feeling was why they would marry each other. That feeling was why they had a son. Happy Birthday to you. Julian. Scott had missed a lot of things from the past, from his old life. He missed flirting with Minerva between classes in high school. He missed the long chats the two of them would share at night. He missed stroking Minerva’s hair when she was tired. But most of all, he missed their son Julian. For Scott and Minerva, there had been many mistakes in marriage, many reason for the two to drift apart. Julian was no one of them. Julian was a constant joy in their lives. It was so exciting, watching him grow up and blossom into a strong young man. Every birthday of his truly was a happy one. Come on now Honey! Blow out the candles! Julian was different from parents. He lacked their codependent tendencies. Julian loved his folks, but as he got older, he saw that there was something off about his parents’ relationship. There was certain air of neediness that he couldn’t deny. It was practically symbiotic, the way his parents doted over one another. If mom had a smudge on her face dad would wipe it away. They finished each other’s sentences, talked together like twins in a horror movie. It was sickeningly sweet. It was downright disturbing. It was what Julian want to be away from them. Hurray! Let me cut of a big slice for the birthday boy! He confronted them about it. His folks just laughed it off. When he yelled and cursed and bawled at them during dinner, they were not laughing. Having mister and misses Rogers as your parents just wasn’t cool when you reach high school. When you lived in a small town like theirs, it made you liable to get your ass kicked. If the fighting had done for Julian’s parents, it had been a wakeup call. Attaboy! Such a good eater! The house was a lot quieter after that. Scott and Minerva had lost something after that night as well. Were they doing something wrong? Was there a wrong way to fall in love? Maybe. Truthfully, Scott and Minerva had never taken the time to work out their own issues. The spark the two had nurtured had been replaced with doubt. Whatever love was it wasn’t supposed to feel this guilty. Slow down kiddo! We have to get all this on tape! Julian avoided his all throughout high school. There was no bonding, just short bullet point conversation. Just deflated sighs and rolled eyes. Julian wanted to be away from his parents. He wanted out. He kept to himself and spent most of free time researching place to go after high school. He had lots of options, all far from home. All he had to do was pick one. He didn’t even have a party of his eighteenth birthday. The day after he graduated, he backed his bags and joined the Navy and left his family behind. The gap between Scott and Minerva had widened even more after that. I bet he can’t wait for next year! Julian never came home. *** “Mother bear syndrome?” Scott asked, “I’m sorry doctor, I’ve never heard of it. It is bad?” Scott almost kicked himself for asking that question. Nothing good had syndrome attached to the end of it. This is why Scott hated hospitals. You can on top of the world one day, then walk into a hospital and leave with a disorder, or a disease, or a syndrome. “To be honest, I’ve never seen a case myself. “Dr. Lambert explained, “It was first documented only a few years ago. The name comes from the feeling of overprotectiveness some women experience during trauma. I’m sorry to ask this, but how have you two been coping recently? Scott stiffened up. He knew the question was coming. Scott still hadn’t come terms with what happen to Julian. The wound was still fresh, and it was like there was an invisible knife being twisted in his chest every time he thought about it. Scott sighed. “I’ve just been taking it one day at time, y’know. I thought Minerva was starting to turn around. When we first got the news, Minerva just…” Scott lost his words, wasn’t sure what to say. Was it right to talk about Minerva like this? She was only a few feet away in the lobby, it felt like his was talking behind her back. What else could he do? She was in no mental state to give her side of the story. “Mr. Dawson, your wife is experiencing extreme levels of trauma. So far, mother bear syndrome has only been present in patient with a history of psychological abuse. Now, her file says she had issue during her childhood. Was she ever treated for that? Scott must have not heard the doctor, because he picked up right were he left off. “Minerva just stopped. She stayed in bed all day; she wouldn’t even talk to me. I couldn’t even bring out of bed for the funeral.” “Mr. Dawson, what happened to you and your wife is perfect understandable.” The doctor actively avoided using words such as natural or normal. There was nothing normal about good men dying so young. “What should I do doctor? Is there some sort of treatment?” “Scott was ready for facts now. The couple was well off, but they were not wealthy. Still, he was willing to work himself to the bone to make her well again. The doctor paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. He pulled a leaflet from his desk and handed it to Scott. “At the current stage, there is not much we can do for her. Mrs. Dawson would need to be monitored further until we could we say how to treat her. Scott looked at the pamphlet. It showed different picture of young adult helping elderly citizens. It was sprinkled his buzz phrases like ‘we are here for you’ and ‘help is closer than you think’. He read the name: “Pleasant Valley Behavioral Health Institute”. It was a brochure for a mental hospital. Scott felt his blood start to boil. He wanted to leap over Lambert’s desk, slug him right between his glasses. He wasn’t even man enough to tell it to Scott straight. ‘Sorry that your wife is broke, better ship looney bin’, right? He couldn’t take it. He could not take losing his family in such a rapid-fire succession. But he also could not afford to blow up right. He needed to cool down. Scott stood up, placed the pamphlet on the desk, and began to walk out of the room. “I’m leaving,” was all he said he closed the door behind him. He didn’t know if Lambert called after him, and he did not care. All wanted to do was leave with his wife. He made his way to lobby, took Minerva by hand, and left the hospital. “Is everything alright honey?” Minerva asked sweetly. “Were you a good by for the doctor.” Scott simply nodded; he was too drained to talk. He didn’t know how, but Scott would find a way to help Minerva. Whatever it cost, he would stay beside her. He had too. “I know you don’t like going to the doctor sweetie, but it’s all over now. Come on, let go home and you can talk a nice long nap. Doesn’t that sound good?” At the time, it really did. *** After dinner, it was bath time. Bath time was okay. It was the only time when didn’t have crinkly padding strapped to his butt, diaper changes notwithstanding. It felt good, just to zone out in tub after a hard day of work. It was like a spa day, if it wasn’t the troupe of bath toys, he had to share it with. Minerva would coo at him like usual, but he was not expected to do, apart from moving sometimes so she could scrub the hard-to-reach places. It was so close to being normal, being like the old days. It only lasted for half an hour on most days, but Scott cherished bath time none the less. It was late, and bath time was now over. Minerva dried her baby boy off and changed him into a nighttime diaper. Scott got to wear one his birthday presents to bed, a warm footed sleeper that was blue and decorated with white fluffy clouds. “Since it’s such a special day, how about you cuddle up with mama for tonight,” said Minerva. Scott did not really have say in matter, but he would not have refused either way. The couple got into bed and snuggled under the covers together. Minerva squeezed Scott tight, nuzzling her head on his chest. Scott stroked her hair nice and easy, the way she always liked. It was Scott’s turn to coddle her. Minerva murmured wearily. “My baby… Mama’s never letting you go again…” A few seconds later, Minerva was snoring, something she only did when she was exhausted. She really had been working all day. Scott hugged her close, until he himself drifted off. In the morning, Scott would go to back to work. Minerva would strap Scott in the highchair, make him breakfast and pick out clothes for him. She would walk Scott the bus stop and wave him off for day, business as usual. Right now, Scott didn’t have to worry about that. Right now, they were sleeping together again. Right now, it felt good to be Mama’s baby.

Daniel sat behind the reception counter in the combination lobby and gift shop, staring blankly at the wall. The Playground was dead tonight. It’s never a good sign for a kink dungeon when the monitors outnumber the guests. It’s an apocalyptic portent when it happens on a Saturday night. The owner and proprietor didn’t stare out of boredom, but anxiety. Bills were coming in and loans were being called due. This had been a very bad investment of Grandpa’s money. A very bad one. Going in, he thought owning a kink dungeon would have been kind of cool. Easy money. No stress. Sit around. Hand out waivers. Let people fuck around for fun. It’d be like owning a brothel in the old west. He thought himself a genius spending his inheritance buying this place. Daniel was very, very, wrong. He’d bought himself a massive albatross to hang around his neck. When he bought it, The Playground consisted of two large ‘play spaces’, a lobby that doubled as a gift shop, a tiny ass locker room, a tinier bathroom, and a room that served no practical purpose whatsoever beyond giving new customers a place to fill out membership forms. There hadn’t been new members for quite some time. How was he supposed to know that the sex toys and whatchamacallits didn’t come with the place? A guy bought a gym and he expected treadmills. What Daniel had really bought was an ugly building with some empty rooms in a bad part of town. He’d bought a place called the playground and only got the ground. All the ‘play’ elements had to come out of pocket. Pile onto that all the things that he hadn’t taken into account- rules, insurance, vetting, pricing structure, advertising- and this goldmine was sapping him dry financially and emotionally. Contrary to his own misconceptions, this business neither sold nor ran itself. Then there was ‘The Racoon Situation’, may it never be repeated… The initial boom from “Under New Management” had lost its shine less than half a year in. Now in year three, Daniel didn’t think he could make it another six months. The buzzing alarm from someone entering broke him out of his anxiety induced paralysis. In through the door walked a man in a too perfectly pressed charcoal gray suit carrying a black briefcase. That part didn’t disturb Daniel. He’d seen mostly leather dudes and chicks come through the door, but ‘masters’ in suits wasn’t a foreign concept to him. There was something different about this one. His dark hair and goatee looked more greasy than slick, and he had an aura about him and his body language. His footsteps clicked across the floor like hooves, even though his snakeskin boots looked well worn and broken in. In the back of his brain, Daniel’s fight or flight response readied itself, knowing that the suit was little more than camouflage. This was a predator. Predator or not, as long as he showed his I.D. at the door, he was a potential customer. “Hey there,” Daniel said. “Welcome to The Playground. How can I help you?” The briefcase was placed down on the counter. “The real question here, Danny boy, is ‘How can I help you?’.” Daniel’s face paled. “How do you know my name?” The stranger in the suit thumbed back to the way he came in. “Asked the guy at the door.” He paused for a second. “Don’t worry, I’m not a cop. This isn’t a sting. What I really want to talk to you about is-” Daniel held out his hand to stop. “I’m sorry, I’m not in the mood to hear any solicitors.” The stranger flopped his arms to the side and lackadaisically turned in a circle, looking around at the empty lobby and rows and rows of unsold sex toys sitting on shelves and hanging on hooks in the gift shop. He put a finger to his ear and leaned like he was listening for something. The rooms were soundproofed, but even if they weren’t, there wouldn’t be much to hear. It was close to midnight and they only had a throuple using the main play area to drip wax onto each other. He was paying his DM’s to basically do nothing all night. “Yeah, Danny,” the solicitor said. “I can tell you’ve got a lot going on, what with the failing business and all.” Fuck this guy. “Whatever you’re selling, buddy, I literally can’t buy.” “Levi.” “Excuse me?” “I’m not your buddy,” the stranger said. “I’’m Levi. And I’m not selling you anything. I don’t want your money, I want your partnership.” Daniel cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not looking to sell.” “I am, though.” Levi smiled. “I said I wasn’t looking to sell anything to you. I’ve got a great product, I just need a distributor.” “Is it meth?” Daniel asked sarcastically. “Better.” Levi opened up the suitcase with a flourish. Daniel looked down. He would have laughed if he had thought it was a joke. “Diapers,” Daniel said flatly. “You want me to sell diapers?” “I do,” Levi said. “I want you to sell my diapers. It’ll save your business.” Daniel had been around long enough to know that some people were into diapers. He’d also been around long enough to know that some people were into anything. “I don’t think this place is your market.” The stranger in the snakeskin boots didn’t relent. “I think it’s exactly my market. It’s practically a blank canvas. Perfect place to set up shop.” “With diapers…?” “Not just any diapers. These diapers are that perfect mix of absorbency and aesthetics.” Daniel scoffed. “They have cartoons on them.” “Exactly,” Levi pointed at him as if he’d just stumbled onto something great. Hepicked up two of them like they were bricks of cocaine. ‘And they come in plastic or cloth backed! They are the best at what they do.” “Soak up pee?” “Headspace, Daniel. Headspace. The ultimate high!” That one did make Daniel laugh. “I think you’re confused.” “Hear me out, Danny boy,” Levi said. “Why is that couple in there pouring hot wax on each other? Because something about the pain and the sensation and the simulated danger of it all gets their endorphins pumping like crazy. It alters their minds, no different in principle than cigarettes and booze. It’s what humans have done throughout history. They crave an altered state of being. My product does the same thing, is addictive, isn’t regulated by the FDA, and is disposable.” He threw an arm back towards the gift shop. “If you sell a paddle, you sell one paddle to that person and probably won’t ever sell that same paddle ever again. If you sell my product, you will sell it again and again and again.” “But people don’t like diapers around here,” Daniel said. “There’s no market.” “There will be,” Levi half-whispered. Louder and more casual he said, “Look, Danny boy. Here’s what I’m proposing: Let me give you some sample packs. I’ll send in some people to generate interest and do my own advertising around town. Let people know that The Playground is the only place to get them. Then you sell the diapers, keep ten percent for yourself plus the interest fees. If I’m wrong, you lose no money” Daniel chewed on his lip. It looked like a dumb novelty gimmick, but it was a novelty gimmick that had almost zero risk to him. As long as it wasn’t like the Raccoon Situation… “Deal.” He offered Levi his hand. Levi shook it. “Deal, Danny boy. You won’t regret this. Expect the first box when you get here tomorrow. ” It wasn’t until Levi left that Dan wondered how he knew about the throuple in the other room. ************************************************************************* Not quite twenty hours later, a flash of bright white drew Daniel out of his nightly anxiety paralysis. Two new customers, the first two in a while, came out of the changing room holding hands. He hadn’t changed or removed his clothes at all, and was still wearing the same gray t-shirt and blue jeans that he’d come in with. The only thing that might pass as ‘kinky’ was that he was carrying a pink satchel bag over his shoulder. She’d been carrying it when they came in and signed up. Now he was. A man carrying a purse wasn’t anything to write home about, in Daniel’s opinion. His partner, however, was topless, and barefoot, but not nude. Daniel had seen plenty of naked people. What he hadn’t seen was someone wearing such thick crinkly padding wrapped around their ass. Levi’s people, no doubt. “Ready, Squirt?” he asked. “Ready, Daddy!” Daniel couldn’t help himself. “Excuse me,” Daniel called over to them. “Can I ask you a question?” The more adult of the two spoke up. “Yessir? How can I help you?” Daniel’s nose wrinkled up and he thought about it. “You’re not doing any kind of like…incest play, are you?” The girl’s eyes brightened up when Danny said the word ‘play’! Shit. This might be The Racoon Situation all over again. “No, sir,” the man referred to as ‘Daddy’ said. “Squirt, here, just wants to play on the playground. Run around. Climb. That kinda stuff. He gave her bottom a pat. “This,” he said, “is to keep the rest of the playground dry.” This was going to be another Racoon Situation… Daniel struggled to find the words. “You know that the stuff in there isn’t…really….a playground right? It’s just a name.” “Anything can be a playground if you know how to use it,” Daddy gave a wink. Daniel ran his hands through his hair. He was desperate for new customers. Max was on DM duty, too. He’d stop shit if people were getting freaked out. “Okay,” he said. “Just checking. Go have fun.” ******************************************************************************************* Daniel kept waiting for the couple to exit, but they didn’t leave until just before closing. That must have meant they were behaving. No Racoon Situations tonight, it seemed. Good. They walked in and out of the giftshop, going from room to room, same as anybody else. No complaints from the handful of other guests. And at the end of the night, they went back into the changing room. Daniel jumped in his chair a little when he heard the sounds of tapes ripping, but quickly recontextualized. Nothing was being broken, that shouldn’t be. ‘Squirt’ was just getting back into normal clothes. They came out a few minutes later. Squirt was dressed in pink shorts and a Minnie Mouse t-shirt. She’d worn it coming in, but Daniel hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. Shame though it was, Disney Adults happened. With what he had seen, Daniel suspected there was more to it now. Her Daddy hadn’t changed anything about himself and was still holstering the pink purse. He did, however, hold in his hand a bulging tightly wrapped mass of plastic. “Is there anywhere I can…?” Gears turned and clicked in the proprietor’s head. Ew! Gross! She’d used it? Squirt was not just a nickname. Embarrassment and surprise kicked Daniel into autopilot. “Oh. That?” he stammered. “Sure.” Daniel offered up a tall lined trash can normally used for tossing away chip bags, candy wrappers, and other snacks Daniel could upcharge to half-naked people. His customer slipped it casually inside and let the loud thunk once it hit the bottom testify how full it was. “Thanks,” he said. “No problem,” Daniel replied, still on autopilot. The couple walked out hand in hand. “Fankyoooo….” Squirt called just as they approached the threshold. She was waving her free arm so wildly as to be flapping. Daniel’s gaze shifted downward and he noticed both the rounded lump from beneath her shorts and the bit of white plastic poking out the waistband. “Huh…” Guess she wasn’t done ‘playing’. Max came out of the main play area with the final four or five stragglers, just in time to see the new odd couple leave. While they went into the changing area to put on street clothes, Max leaned against Daniel’s desk. “They were nice,” he said. “Who?” Daniel asked. “The baby people?” “Yeah.” Daniel had a more than mild curiosity. “What did they do?” “Hide and seek,” Molly said. “Peekaboo. Played catch with some stuff in the diaper bag.” Max ground his teeth in thought a little bit. “She climbed up on the cross like it was a jungle gym. Kinda wholesome in a weird way.” Wholesome schmolesome. Daniel was peeved that he hadn’t sold anything like that Levi hack had promised. A resalable product wasn’t so great if everybody brought their own. “Anybody else bothered by it?” Daniel asked his best monitor. “No,” Max told him. “Some people were kinda curious.” Daniel arched an eyebrow at his employee. “How curious?” On cue, the last customer of the night came out of the changing room. He was tight lipped and blushing, but the tightly wrapped ball of plastic and pulp in his hands told the tale. Daniel thumbed to the garbage can, and the man dropped it in. The second thunk wasn’t as loud as the first. “They shared,” Max explained. “Called it a free sample.” “Right there on the floor?” Daniel asked. “Well I’ll be…” Max looked at Daniel and misinterpreted Daniel’s expression. “Is that okay, boss? I didn’t think that broke any rules…cuz he wasn’t wet or poopy.” “No,” Daniel said. “It’s cool.” *********************************************************************************** The next night Daniel saw three times as many people in diapers as the night before. That still wasn’t a lot but weird that there was more than one. The couple had come back and brought a friend with them, and the regular that had experimented had come back to get his diaper on. “Thank you,” he said, handing Daniel the money in exchange for the two-diaper sample pack. “Thank you so much!” He stared at the plastic rectangles like they were heroin. “You’re…welcome?” Daniel said. That was weird. Normally, if he was gonna get repeat business, Daniel would have to wait at least a week. Were the diapers that good? Daniel tore a spare pack open and turned one over on his hands like it was a puzzle box. When he breathed through his nose he caught a whiff of sweet smelling perfume, like honey with a touch of lavender. It wasn’t overpowering but it was faintly…nostalgic? Was this what people were after? Daniel didn’t think much more of it than that. He was just happy for the slight increase in business. ***************************************************************************************** The night after that it had doubled again up to eight padded bottoms. New business and old. After that, it was close to twenty diaper butts. On a weeknight, no less. The Playground was lucky to get ten customers on a weeknight. The people who came in wearing padded pants seemed to want to change diapers in the locker room, and if they weren’t wearing when they arrived, Daniel would see them blushing and tossing out a used one on their way out. He’d already had to dedicate a dedicated covered can for the task of disposal. “How’s it looking?” he asked Max at the end of that night. Max smiled. “Awesome!” he said. He immediately corrected himself. “I mean kinda boring. Most of them are crawling around, climbing on stuff, talking baby talk. “Their CG’s are keeping order with stuff like duck duck goose, but nobody’s violating consent or doing anything risky. They're all being good little boys and girls.” Daniel gave Max a look. “Excuse me?” “You know. Littles. It’s what they call themselves.” “Oh. Sure.” Sounded like Max was getting something out of it too. “Excuse me,” a bleached blonde woman walked up. She wore scrubs decorated in nursery print designs: rattles and bottles and safety pins and such.. Medical play? Daycare play? Both? “Do you have any extra diapers for sale? My little guy had an accident.” Being held by the wrist was the very first ‘convert’ from earlier that week. The one who’d gotten diapered up by Squirt and her Daddy, and embarrassedly tossed in an extra wet diaper. Presently, he stood barefoot with a dark patch on his crotch that dripped all the way down to his legs. “Crud,” Max said, “I’ll get a mop.” “Don’t worry,” the scrubbed lady said. “I already took care of that part. I just need to get him cleaned up. “I..I…tried,” the customer stammered. He was a good six inches taller than the blonde lady, but looked like a pathetic three year old who’d gotten too excited. “Jakey, say you’re sorry.” “I’m sowwy,” the grown-ass man said with a toddlerish lisp. Daniel smiled, trying to seem good natured and paternal. “It’s no big deal, bud.” He placed a sample diaper on the counter. Jakey’s date or nurse or babysitter or whatever paid for the diapers and took the man back into the changing room. Damn, that designation had taken on a completely different meaning lately. A few minutes later, they came out again, with Jakey not wearing anything over his fresh crinkly diaper. “Thank you very much,” the woman in the nursery scrubs said. “May I make a suggestion?” The woman had just given him money, so Daniel was more inclined to listen. “Do you think you could put a changing table in there? It’d be a lot easier to change the babies without having to lie them down on the floor. The Playground’s Owner immediately thought of that old massage table that rarely got use. “I think I can rig something up.” “Thank you,” she said. “That’s much appreciated.” Max waited until the pair had left. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “What would I say something about?” Daniel asked his right hand. “Water sports? Going out in fetish gear. We don’t want a Raccoon Situation, do we, Danny?” Danny waved it off. “The guy peed himself on accident and his girlfriend cleaned it up, Max.” “And the diaper? Outside? We don’t let other folks wear their gear. It’s vanilla clothes only past that door.” “It’s just a diaper,” Daniel said. “And what other folks?” Max huffed and crossed his arms. “Point taken…” ***************************************************************************************** “Excuse me?” A skinny pimply faced kid came up to him the next week. “Are you the guy I talk to?” His eyes jittered around, nervously, like he was afraid he’d get caught or something. “Let me see your I.D. again,” Daniel said. Did Rory need new glasses at the door? He looked at the guy’s wallet. Eighteen according to the driver’s license. It didn’t look like a forgery. “You a senior?” “Freshman,” the kid said. “In college!” he quickly yelped. “In college! No class tomorrow.” That had been Daniel not too long ago. He just had better skin and filled out quicker. “Sorry sir,” Daniel said, handing it back. “Needed to double check. Who are you looking for?” “I’m looking…” the young man said haltingly, “...to buy…” The kid was low on nerve and Daniel felt like messing with him. Paddles? floggers? Dragon Tails? Anal beads? Vibrators?” “Diapers!” Daniel felt like a drug dealer, making the man-child squirm. “Last pack.” “Thank you!” The spindly eighteen year old dashed to get changed. “Shit,” Daniel cursed to himself. That really had been the last pack. He scraped at the bottom of the last box and found nothing. These crinkly rectangles with cartoons on them had really sold themselves and people kept coming back for more. Much to Daniel’s profit, coming back meant they had to pay the entry fee, too. The door buzzed with yet another arrival. Daniel didn’t look up right away. He’d quickly gotten very used to people coming to the Playground. “Seems like I’m right on time,” Levi said. “How’s it going, Danny boy?” Daniel leapt up with joy. “Great,” he yelped. “It’s going great. Business is really picking up!” Daniel’s guardian angel looked pleased, but not surprised. He held up an open cardboard box. “Just ran out!” That joy was tempered by the huge wad of cash he handed over to Levi. “Thaaaaank you,” Levi took up the money. “Pleasure doing business with you, Danny boy.” He extended his hand. “See you around, bud.” The stranger turned on his heel and a jolt of panic found its way to Daniel. “Wait. I’m out of diapers! I need more!” Levi stopped and hung his head. “Yeah, about that. I’m out of samplers. All I have are bigger packs. Ten, twelve. More. I’m losing money otherwise.” “That’s fine,” Daniel said. “I’ll sell bigger packs.” The words turned to ash in his mouth as soon as he said them. “But that’s a lot of diapers…” “Yup,” Levi agreed. “Enough to last them a couple days.” “At least.” “How do I keep people coming back, if they don’t need to buy diapers as often?” The greasy thug in a business suit looked like Daniel had grown an extra head. “Danny,” Levi said. “Danny, Danny, Danny. Danny boy. Are you listening to yourself? You’re not selling diapers.” “I’m not?” “You’re selling a lifestyle. Look.” A guy who could have been a pro-wrestler came out of the changing room and waddled among the paddles and ropes like a kid trying to figure out toys that were too old for him.. For a beat, Daniel thought he was wearing some kind of leotard, but most leotards didn’t have farm animals decorating their tights, or a diaper bulge underneath. “Hey, little boy.,” Levi asked him. “What’s your favorite toy?” The big man looked up and wiped a line of drool off his chin. “My wattle. I forgot to bwing it though…” From his pocket, Levi produced what was essentially a maraca painted baby blue and given a bunny face. “Here you go, kiddo…” “WATTLE!” It was disturbing to watch the giant shake the big baby rattle and laugh like like hyena after a fresh kill. “See what I mean, Danny?” He didn’t., though. “McDonald’s isn’t really a burger company. It’s a real estate company. The Playground wasn’t a dungeon, and it’s definitely not a store. It’s a playground, just for really really big babies.” Daniel looked beyond the doors to the play spaces, thinking about the menagerie of bondage equipment he’d splurged on filling up the place. Sex swings, spanking horses, stocks, inversion tables, crosses and what not. “Um…I don’t think The Playground’s got that kind of equipment. Levi clapped Daniel on the back. “Then let’s reinvest, my friend. Let’s reinvest.” Danny thought of the business he’d been getting. He didn’t dare say no. ********************************************************************************************* Two weeks later, The Playground had rebranded itself as specifically catering to people who enjoyed wearing diapers and acting like children. It sounded like a bad idea, being so niche, but nightly attendance didn’t drop. Night after night, people waddled in off the streets, to put on a diaper and play in a literal indoor play place and nursery. Daniel walked the new facilities with a strange sense of pride. He’d built this. With some guidance and a new investment from his business partner, he was starting to climb out of the mountain of debt he’d accrued. “Pretty crazy, boss,” Max said. “Pretty crazy.” There were yelps and laughs and the sounds of bare feet running. ‘Hey! No running!” “Sowwy!” Max shook his head. “I’m turning into a babysitter,” he grumbled. “Look on the bright side,” Daniel joked, “you’re not having to change any diapers.” As if illustrating his point, a handsome young man in cardigan was busy unsnapping what Daniel guessed was his boyfriend’s onesie. “Shit…” “Yeah,” Daniel agreed. “Looks like it.” The brown stains on the baby man’s backside were kind of hard to miss. “Alright,” Max said. “They’re out of here!” Daniel put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “No. Let them stay.” Daniel noticed a bare spot on the wall where he’d been thinking of putting in some bouncers. “In fact, let’s move the changing table from the locker room to over there.” Most of his customers were coming in pre-diapered anyway. “That’s gotta be some kind of health code violation,” Max said. “Nope,” Daniel said smugly. “And nobody else seems to mind.” Everybody else was so deep in their own personal headspace that the public floor change could have been inside an invisible bubble. Another caregiver doing the same thing to their little girl might have contradicted that theory. “Max,” he said. “I think I’m gonna make a new rule. Caregivers get in free with a Little.” Might be a good way to get some free help managing these tykes. “Mistuh Danny! Mistuh Danny!” A scruffy faced middle aged toddler caught his attention. “Do you have any diapees?” Time to go back to the real work. “Sure do, bud! Let’s go to the giftshop. Maybe find some cool toys for you too.” Daniel waved his right hand man away, and hustled to go make a sale. He could see that there was an appeal to this whole baby thing, but Daniel couldn’t see it.” Maybe he should try, though. Maybe he should try… **************************************************************************************** The end of the night was becoming Danny’s favorite time at the Playground, and for more than the usual reason of getting to go home. It was also when his customers were most likely to reload up on diapers. That little bit of consistency, that new development in routine, always lifted Danny’s spirits a little. Business was booming. Buying more of Levi’s wonderful diapers meant that people would keep coming back. Things had been too good to be true, and the little consistencies allowed Danny to keep telling himself that the bottom wasn’t dropping out anytime soon. “That’s the last of them,” Max said. “Good,” Danny said. He eyed his way to the main playroom. “Good night, yeah?” “Yeah,” Max agreed. “It’s kinda like having kids. It’s not so bad once you get used to - ARE YOU WEARING A DIAPER?!” Danny looked down at himself. The stretchy sweatpants he’d put on over the diaper had fallen down so that they only covered the bottom half. He’d been so busy that he’d forgotten to hike them back up over his diaper. Or that he was wearing one. “Oh yeah,” Danny said. “I guess so.” “Is this your new thing, boss?” Max asked. “Because if it is, that’s fine, but…” “But what?” “Things are making a lot more sense.” Danny laughed at that. “Don’t worry about it, Max. I’m just blending in. People wanna buy from people who are like them. Part of their clique. Right?” Danny didn’t think he was lying, but he still felt wrong all the same. “Have you been wearing those for long?” Danny shook his head and laughed. “Naw. I just put this one on before coming into work.” Technically not a lie. He’d only been wearing that diaper after he woke up and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for breakfast. He had worn others, though, so it also was a lie of omission. This was the first one he’d worn at work, however. Every other time had been at home. They came in handy after he’d started wetting the bed. And he’d been able to get so much more done tonight because he didn’t have to stop to go potty. Bathroom…he didn’t have to go to the bathroom. That was a weird random thought. So was the quiet realization that he was peeing and talking to Max at the same time. Max didn’t notice, or didn’t say anything. “Okay, man. Just don’t get in too deep. You’ve kind of got an addictive personality.” Danny said the best thing he could. “I hear ya, Max. Thanks for looking out. You go ahead and head out. I’ll toss out the garbage.” “You sure?” “Positive.” Max didn’t need further convincing. Danny waited until Max had left The Playground, and counted as high as he could twice to make sure Max wasn’t coming back. Then, feeling strangely guilty considering it was his building, he toddled into the main playroom. It looked like a nursery with its indoor jungle gym, its foam floor puzzle pieces; its shelves decked out with toys, blocks, train tracks, and marble runs. The only swings were the scaled up harness ones that Levi had snagged from a special needs school auctioning off old P.E. equipment. It smelled like a nursery too. Danny wandered over to the changing table, and rested his hand on it. Formerly a massage table, Danny had paid a pretty penny to have it broken down and built back up into a proper changing station. The Mommies, Daddies, Nannies, and Babysitters definitely appreciate it. So did their babies, but only when they were reminded too. Lucky bastards. Like magic, Danny found himself going from laying his hand on the table, to leaning on it, to climbing up on it, and laying down on it. Just to see what it was like of course. He rested his eyes and exhaled. It wasn’t as good as he imagined a crib would be, but it still was very comfy. Feeling naughty, he shuffled the sweatpants off his feet and let them drop down to the floor. He reached one hand down to his diaper and gave it a squeeze. He stopped himself from moaning using his opposite thumb. Sucking on his digit, Danny decided to just close his eyes and let his mind drift. A wet diaper felt so good! It squished and caressed him with every movement. And he imagined he looked cute too, lying there in nothing but a t-shirt and baby pants. No wonder it was so hard to potty train kids. The alternative objectively sucked. That absurd notion made him giggle. Good thing Max couldn’t see him now. The sound of ripping tapes made Danny jump! He quickly found that someone had pulled the safety strap over his chest to keep him from rolling off. “Hey there, Danny boy,” Levi said. The cold wipe dragged across Danny’s privates woke him the rest of the way up.” “Levi?” The man in the snakeskin boots kept wiping Danny’s penis, pubic area, and taint, showing no signs of disgust or distress. “You looked like you were about ready,” Levi casually said. “So I thought I’d help.” “What are you do-?” Levi shushed him. “Hold on, hold on. Or do you want me to talk to you while I’m powdering your butt?” He crossed Danny’s legs for him and hoisted his legs up to his stomach. Danny lay there feeling paralyzed while a man he barely knew wiped his ass for him. Danny told himself it wasn’t happening. But the feeling of the old diaper being balled up and slid out from beneath him, and replaced by another one told him differently. A little powder on his front and back enhanced the trance instead of shaking him out of it. And the feeling of the fresh diaper taking form around his hips, being tightened and secured tape by tape was somehow blissful. Danny had just started getting used to diapering himself and now he never wanted to do it again. “Th-th-thankyou,” he whispered, feeling incredibly vulnerable yet fulfilled. Levi let him off the table. Danny felt so wobbly legged that he sank down to his knees. “What are you doing back here?” Levi asked. “I…I…” Danny was going to ask Levi the same thing, but he still felt so overwhelmed, so good and overwhelmed and safe, that he forgot what he was going to say. “I…” he looked at the jungle gym. It had no stairs on it, by design; only ramps and tubes for easy crawling access. “I just was tired and wanted…” “Oooof, those diapers are hitting you hard, ain’t they kid?” Danny blinked. “Huh?” “Nevermind,” Levi chuckled. “You’re sad because you want to play but never have the time. Too busy taking care of everybody else.” Like a hypnosis victim, Danny nodded at the suggestion. “Uh-huh.” There was never enough time. Now that he was actually making money, he didn’t have the chance to enjoy himself. He owned a candy store but never got to taste the chocolate. He made a near perfect Playground, but the only time he got to play was after all the other kids…customers?...kids…got away. Levi stroked his beard theatrically. “That’s a bummer Danny boy. Real bummer. If only there was a way to make more time for yourself. Time to play.” Danny’s eyes lit up at hearing the word ‘play’. “I know!” A wry, knowing smile came to Levi. “Do you now, kiddo?” ********************************************************************************************** A week later, Danny presented his new vision to Max and the rest of the staff. He would have told them sooner, but he kept forgetting the finer points and needed to wait for Levi to coach him. Max had to pick his jaw up off the floor when he was done. The other employees all looked distinctly unsure and uncomfortable with the idea, though Danny didn’t know why. “Okay everybody, we’ll brainstorm this a while later,” Max said. “Suzy, you should work the counter tonight. Try to push the onesies and the pacifiers. Rob, you’ve got the door checking ID’s. Everybody else, do what we’ve been doing.” Like a well oiled machine, the crew broke. When did his staff become so organized and focused, Danny wondered. Maybe he should hold more staff meetings in the playroom. It was certainly more comfortable. “What do you mean we’re going twenty-four seven?” Max asked when they were alone. Danny remained spread eagle on the playroom floor, his diaper bulging out underneath his onesie. “We treaf iff lika dayshere”. He frowned and took his paci out of his mouth. Maybe that’s why the others seemed so confused. “We treat it like a daycare.” He leaned back and grabbed his toes. “An adult daycare?” Max said. “Are you crazy? We’ve already super specialized. Now you want to keep the lights on longer and have people show up at all hours?” “We just raise our prices like a hotel,” Danny said. “We get more cribs, turn our aftercare room into a sleep room, and the babies can stay here as long as we keep getting paid. It’s easy money. Levi said he’d get the cribs and offer me free diapees if he got a cut of the service fees.” “Daniel…” Max sounded exasperated. “This sounds crazy, my dude. That’s a butt ton of work you’re talking about.” “Why?” Dannie asked. He leaned his head back and saw the ballpit and suddenly wondered if they could continue the meeting there. “I thought you said it was easy to Monitor all the little boys and girls. I’m just paying you to stand around most nights.” “Yeah,” Max said. “It’s easy in small doses. But things are getting weirder. They’re still peeing their pants and sucking their toes. Some of them don’t even talk. I’m starting to wonder if they can understand me!” “We’ll be…they’ll be good,” Danny said. “Pwomise!” “A lot of them aren’t changing themselves unless one of the Bigs volunteers,” Max said. “It’s bad enough that me and the guys are spending so much time taking out garbage bags filled with dirty diapers. Do you want us to start changing them too?” Yes. “Um….?” Danny said instead, “We can hire people to do that. Levi says he knows some people.” “He better,” Max said. “If we’re going to be charging hotel prices, we gotta have hotel level staff and hotel level cleanliness. Sheet washing, cleaning the playground equipment. We’d have to triple the staff, minimum, and find a whole bunch of people that were really cool with treating you and everybody else like they were under two. Real Mommy and Daddy Doms. Do you know how much those cost, Daniel? I don’t even know if it’s legal. That might be considered sex work or something.” “To change a diaper?” Danny asked. He didn’t notice how he’d been lumped in with the other babies. His mind leapt to another part of Max’s analysis. “Why triple?” “Because people have lives outside of this place, Daniel,” Max said. “Even the clients. We can’t sleep here. Where are we gonna get that kind of money? We’ve just barely started to break even and we don’t know how long that’s gonna last.” “It will,” Danny said. Daddy had promised him. Levi…Levi had promised him. “Where are we going to get that money to hire people and keep the lights on?” Danny pressed. “More debt? Sell the whole damn thing to Levi?” Max demanded. “Oh,” Danny remembered, “That’s right. We need more highchairs and yummy food, and ba-bas.” “How?” Max repeated himself. Danny shifted his weight to all fours, concentrated, pushed a load into his diaper, and sat back down. Much better. Another great idea popped into Danny’s head. He’d sell his house! That way he could stay here, and all his friends would pay money to visit him. “I know! I’ll just sell my house.” That would get him a lot of money, Danny figured. Then he wouldn’t have a reason to leave and he could just sleep in the cribs. He’d just make money playing and having fun! “Did you just poop?” Max asked. Danny popped his pacifier back in, and nodded proudly. “Uh-huh!” That’s how he knew he wasn’t a baby. Real babies didn’t know when they pooped. Danny did. He stood up and started walking over to the big rocking horse. He bet the squish would feel really good on the rocking horse. Max grabbed him by the wrist. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “No vare,” Danny mumbled. “Horshie.” Max growled. “Okay,” he said. “I think you’re done.” “But I wanna pway!” Max whined. “Yeah,” Max said. “That’s the problem. First you wanted to sell diapers and make money. Now you’re wearing them. Now you’re using them. Now you just wanna play.” What was so wrong with that? Danny started trying to pull away and wriggle out of Max’s grip. “Uh-huh.” “DANNY!” Danny froze in his tracks. “You wanna act like a little kid like all the others, you’re gonna be treated like one.” Max led Danny over to the changing table and boosted him up on his hips. As a matter of reflex, Danny laid down and started sucking harder on his binky. “Yeshir…” “You wanna play here all the time? Wear your own product? Play with your toys?” He unpopped the snaps on Danny’s onesie. “Fine. I’m taking over the books though. Whatever you made is getting spread out to the rest of us to deal with your bullshit.” Danny didn’t flinch when his right hand man took the tapes off his diaper and pulled it open. “Otay.” Max went for the wipes, “This thing gave you an itch you wanna scratch? Fine, but you’re not the boss anymore. Bosses wipe their own asses. Bosses don’t play with baby toys. You wanna go twenty-four seven, you’re going twenty-four seven.” Danny shuddered in delight at that. Finally! Max was coming around. “No responsibility means no power. You might own the place, but you don’t work anymore. Anybody who does, is in charge of you.” The owner’s eye twitched, but that was just because of how hard Mister Max wiped. “Yeshir.” “Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Max muttered to himself. Danny’s was the first diaper in the pail that night. It wouldn’t be his last. Max roughly but firmly yanked up the fresh diaper between Danny’s legs and taped it on. He forgot the powder, but that was okay. Not every change had to have powder. His altered state of mind was very firmly intact. “The things I do for…” Max didn’t finish that sentence, but in Danny’s heart he knew the word was going to be ‘love’. “Fankyooooo,” Danny said. He was so excited he was practically flapping his arms like a chicken. Max smiled despite himself. “Just…just go play. Your little friends will be here any minute.” Danny couldn’t wait for that. *********************************************************************** It was close to midnight when Levi sauntered in through the front door. By coincidence. Max walked out of the playroom, lugging yet another garbage bag filled with used diapers. So Max my man,” Levi asked. “How’d Danny boy take it?” Max put down the bag and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Just like you said he would, sir. He’s pretty much gone.” Levi flashed a positively devilish grin. “I’d say that he’s finally ‘here’, myself. But I get your meaning.” There was a tense pause as bits of guilt threatened Max's conscience. “So? Satisfied?” Max was the boss now; the owner and proprietor in all but name. The Playground was finally going to be profitable, and was being run by somebody who did more work than sit behind a counter and stare at a wall all night to the point where shit like the Racoon Situation happened. It wasn’t how Max had envisioned it going down when this strange motherfucker and his fancy boots approached him a couple months ago, but it was good enough. “Yeah,” Max said. “Yeah, I am.”

This was the day that Takayama was going to die. He knew it with a level of certainty rarely found in life; at least not until the very end. Not that he wanted to die, mind you, but after the screaming and flailing and flipping it was hard to reach any other conclusion. He was pretty sure he’d wet himself, too, which in a way was darkly funny. He’d always heard that the bladder and bowels released after death, but here he was proving them wrong. Not that he’d be able to tell anybody about it…he was going to die in about two seconds. Two seconds would take an eternity. They say one’s life flashes before their eyes as they are about to die. It’s accurate; or accurate enough, anyways; adrenaline kicks in, the senses sharpen, and the brain kicks into overdrive trying to process a way out or at least find an answer to what went wrong. Takayama was no different, and the instant replay on the last twenty-something years was anything but satisfying. Taka was born unlucky to a less than wealthy family. A series of unfortunate events had compounded issues and led him to make bad choices. Not that there had been good choices available; sometimes it was just a matter of picking a bad choice and hoping it was the least awful one. “Life has many opportunities for hardship,” his grandmother had quietly lamented when he was young, “but few for prosperity.” Sobo had been right on the money about that, one. One thing had led to another and so on and so forth had the dominoes of this dreary life toppled. When he was little, Takayama thought he’d get all the power and control when he grew up. He was going to die before thirty but he’d never tasted the promised power of age; he’d only lost the comforts of childhood along the way. Such was real life. By junior high he’d learned that most adults were just faking it; trying to look happy or at least resolved because it was the only way one could function. Money and power were given, not earned, and the only thing that didn’t cost money was dying. Ironic. He’d been hiking along the old and nearly forgotten mountain path because it was free. He’d been bored and depressed and thought the fresh air and exercise would have done him some good. He didn’t think that old ledge would give way on his way back down. It showed no signs of instability on his way up. No such luck. Now, with his body tumbling through the air, a second or so away from being dashed on the rocks, Takayama caught one last glimpse at Machi, the city where he’d spent most of his terrible life. Its cold skyscrapers jutted up to Heaven higher than even the mountain, but lacked the natural beauty of what was about to be his doom. He thought he could make out the building where he’d just bombed his latest job interview. If there had been any air left in his lungs from the screaming, Takayama would have laughed. He was about to die penniless. Literally penniless. He had a negative balance in his bank account and had thrown away his final few scraps of pocket change into the offering bowl at that old overgrown shrine near the top. Call it superstition. Call it nihilism. Call it whatever you want. It’s not like he had enough to take the bus back home when he got back to town. It’s not like he’d be going back to town ever again. Not in this life. Time to find out if reincarnation was real or not. Takayama spent his last milliseconds in this life looking up, his body limp so that the ground would have a nice clean break. At least he’d die viewing the sky. A serpentine blur above him, a jet stream of pure blue, like the sky getting in front of the clouds instead of the other way around. Jutting, zig zagging tree branches with no trunk to call home. A roar more fearsome and primal than any tiger’s. A gust of gold air. Then…darkness. ************************************************************************************************************ Birds chirping. Air stirring. What? Power lines humming. Rail cars rumbling. Car horns honking. Huh? Footsteps in the hallway. People talking on their phones. Walls just thick enough to obscure what is being said, but not that someone is talking, or moving, or eating, or having sex. Faint smells of mildew that the brain quickly filtered out in order to keep its own sanity. How? Home. Takayama was home. He knew it before he even opened his eyes. How was that possible? Why wasn’t he dead? Or if not dead, why wasn’t he bleeding out on the ground or at least in the hospital? Why was he home?! As he opened his eyes, another, more important question came to his mind. Namely, ‘who was this lovely, brown haired woman smiling down at him and why was his head in her lap?’ “Good afternoon, Takayama-kun,” she said. “Did you enjoy your nap?” It sounded so familiar in tone, as if this stranger here in his apartment cradling his head was the most natural thing in the world. Dumbstruck, Takayama gazed up into her eyes, entranced by their unreal beauty. One would expect someone with such natural looking brown hair to have matching eyes, but two dazzling blue orbs stared down at him. The eyes captivated him for only a moment before his own wandered up to her forehead. “Yaaaagh!” he shrieked, and jumped to his feet. His feet were bare. He’d have to deal with that later. Right in this moment, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the jutting protrusions coming out of her skull. “Horns?!” he yelled. “You have horns! HOOOOOOOOOORNS!” They were closer to antlers, in actuality. Twisted, branching, almost gnarled things, like what a proud stag might have in its first spring. Somehow, atop the slender brown haired woman, they seemed almost dainty. It was bizarre, in a way. She sat there comfortably on his futon, wearing a white shirt and a bright blue jumper dress that came down to her ankles and ended in comfortable looking white sneakers. Her plain brown hair came down to her shoulders, and framed her face in a way that made her bright blue eyes pop. She had a beauty to her, but nothing that would drive men wild; more of a comforting girl next door, or a nurturing big sister vibe. Takayama could vaguely remember being in preschool and having a teacher around the same age. He didn’t know how old she was; when you’re three everybody that can pick you up reads as an adult. But he remembered really liking her over the old granny types and it wasn’t until much much later that he realized that she was probably his first bout of innocent puppy-love. This strange woman sitting on his futon gave exactly the same kind of vibes. Except for the horns…. “Hm?” the stranger said. She reached up with a delicate looking hand and touched the bony growths as if she’d forgotten they existed; much like how it was easy to forget one’s belly button until directly reminded. “Why yes, sweetie, they are,” she chirped softly. “I do have horns. Very good!” Evidently, the fact that she had them didn’t disturb her. If anything they were just a teachable moment. Utter disbelief bubbled up inside him and what felt like a thousand questions spilled out. “Who are you, how do you know my name, what are you doing in my apartment, how did we get here, am I dead, why am I not dead-?” They all came out as one giant runaway of thought. At the prospect of being dead, Takayama’s eyes managed to finally pry themselves away from the mysterious woman and down to himself. Just like with the fall, time slowed down for an instant while his adrenaline soaked brain processed all of the sensory data available at once. Was he bruised? Bleeding? Transparent? It was still very possible he was dead, after all. Being dead would explain the chill around his legs. But he had to pee. Dead people didn’t have to pee, did they? In less than a breath even more information flooded his synapses yet again. He was wearing his same light red breezy t-shirt from his hike up the mountain, but he was barefoot. And not wearing pants. What he was wearing, however, was white and puffy and crinkled when he moved even a little bit. “WHY AM I IN DIAPER???” LIke an incantation the words spoken red faced and aloud caused time to speed back up to its usual pace. Takayama found himself standing bow legged thanks to the diaper taped snugly over his hips. Not knowing what else to do, the young man did his best to cover his shame, crossing his hands over the massive diaper. The gesture did nothing to hide the undergarment. He’d tried to close his legs, but the padding was so thick that his knees couldn’t even touch. The only thing he succeeded in doing was covering up a few of the embarrassing cartoon prints around his crotch! How?! Why?! He didn’t even know they made baby diapers this big! He didn’t know that there were babies this big! The strange woman giggled quietly behind her hand, as if his humiliation and shock was merely quaint; endearing even. “You don’t need to be embarrassed,” she told him. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” It was like something his mother would say when she walked in on him in the shower growing up. “BUT WHY?!” Takayama wasn’t normally so loud, but extraordinary times called for extraordinary volumes. The fact that he had a diaper on also made him uncomfortably aware of how much he needed to go to the bathroom. Remaining seated, and perfectly calm yet cheery, the horned lady spoke up. “My you’re a curious little thing!” she said. “So full of questions. Even for a human you’re an inquisitive little chatterbox.” A bead of uncomfortable sweat formed on Takayama’s brow. “Human?” The designation implied that she wasn’t human. “Oh dear,” the woman giggled. “I guess It isn’t obvious.” “What isn’t?” Takayama asked. Instead of clarifying, the woman opted to show him. She stood up from the futon, took a deep breath, and then… POOF! A cloud engulfed the tiny apartment, and the smokey, flowery scent of incense invaded Takayama’s nostrils. The boards groaned with the added stress of sudden weight and a current of warm wind blew past his face as new mass rapidly expanded and pushed air particles out of the way. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the smoke dissipated, and Takayama’s eyes beheld something even more unbelievable than a pretty girl with horns or a comically big diaper. A dragon- a massive serpent with legs and a fearsome maw that belonged on something prehistoric- now stood where the young woman once was. More than that, it was also in the tiny kitchenette in his apartment, and its tail was in the bathroom. The massive, sky blue scaled monster wound and coiled around the whole of Takayama’s apartment. “I had to take another form so I could fit into your home.” In another bizarre twist, the same dainty, feminine voice came out of the dragon’s mouth. The jagged, branch-like horns seemed more appropriate to this form. “I’m Kurai, by the way.” “Kurai?” Takayama echoed. He reached around in the back of his brain. Why did that seem familiar? That was the name of the trail he’d just watched. No… “That’s the name of the mountain!” “Mhm,” the woman chirped. “That’s right. I’m the spirit of that mountain.” The embarrassed color drained from Takayama’s face. The great beast surrounding him, staring did not look like a ‘Kurai’. “Oh,” he whispered, suddenly very, very quiet. What else could he say? He could deny it, and shout that dragons were not real, but why deny his senses? POOF! The smoke coalesced around the serpentine spirit beast and collapsed in on itself. A second later, standing in front of the futon in her plain white shirt and blue jumper was the same pretty brown haired woman before. “So I think that answers that question,” she said. “What were the other ones?” Seeing the impossible happen right in front of his eyes had an oddly calming effect on the young man. His mind gripped even harder to the calm and rational to counterbalance the existential panic that was looming up in the back of his mind. “Why are we back here?” he asked again. “I thought I was going to die back on that mountain.” The dragon-woman (wow that was so weird thinking of her like that) nodded patiently and smoothed out her dress. “Why wouldn’t I save you?” she asked. “You left an offering at my shrine. So I caught you.” Something so amazing and impossible spoken so casually. Takayama nodded, feeling so overwhelmed that he was oddly calm. “And my apartment?” “Your wallet had your address on it,” the dra…-Kurai, she had a name- said. “I took you home. Next time, your Mommy should just pin a note to your shirt.” The sudden burst of gratitude burst past his pride and bewilderment concerning his state of dress or little jests implying he was a child. Instead, incredibly bravely considering the circumstances, Takayama waddled up to the woman and threw his arms around her shoulders. “Thank you,” he almost sobbed. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! You saved my life! I’m so incredibly grateful!” The Buddhist proverb about the tiger and the strawberry came to mind. His life wasn’t much, but it was still his, and knowing how close he’d been to losing it all made him. Kurai petted his hair and quietly guided both of them back to the couch that doubled as Takayama’s bed. When he’d calmed down enough, he had the wherewithal to physically separate himself from his mystical savior. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t usually get so emotional.” “It’s okay,” Kurai replied with absolute care and kindness. “Emotions can be hard at first.” She added, “You’ve had a really eventful day.” She had no idea. Literally. How rare was it for a human to meet a real life dragon? Rare enough that they were considered mythical fairy tales. The stuff for children’s puppet shows and storybooks. His eyes tried to dart down to his feet, but zeroed in again on the diaper instead. “Why the diaper, though?” he asked. “And where’d you get it? Kurai cocked an eyebrow. Her beautiful blue eyes unblinking. “Hm? When I caught you I saw that you’d had an accident,” she said simply. “Your pants were soaking wet. I thought you’d wriggled out of yours or something so I decided to help you.” She smiled and said, “It was no bother at all. I just had to pop into a store. They didn’t have any in your size but I fixed that.” To illustrate her point she reached over the back of the futon and pulled out a package. It was vaguely rectangular and covered in flimsy plastic. The package had a picture of a smiling baby on it, and the label indicated that there were meant to be twelve diapers total inside. It was just a travel pack, the kind sold in gas stations and convenience stores for emergencies. Unlike something meant for babies, however, the package was so large it could have doubled as a large throw pillow or a small couch cushion. That was because much like his horned savior shortly before, the package’s contents had dramatically increased in size. The top had been shredded open and two diapers wilted out of the hole like tissues in a box. They were still tightly packed in a glance, but at least one was missing and it didn’t take a genius to figure out where it was. Takayama’s jaw almost came unhinged. So this really was a baby diaper he was wearing! He wouldn’t have believed it but moments ago the woman sitting next to him had been covered in blue scales and could have crushed him beneath her claws or gored him on her horns. “What do you mean ‘pop into a store?” he whimpered, cursing himself for asking. “I carried you in and asked.” Kurai shrugged. “There was a nice older lady who helped me pick them out. Told me everything I needed to know. Helped me get the most absorbent and comfy brand. She told me those are the kind her grandchildren wear. No safety pins needed. Isn’t that just neat? She walked me through changing you and said you looked very peaceful and cute after I put it on.” Immediately, Takayama knew he’d be spending the rest of his life hiding his face around little old ladies in convenience stores. The only words that he could muster were a stammering “I…I…I…I…” Oblivious to his emotional distress, Kurai’s head started turning as she carefully scanned the room. “Though I’ve been looking around and I haven’t found any more since we got here. Do you not have any more diapers, Takayama? Are you out?” Mortified, Takayama rose to his feet and stood as straight as he could in an attempt to salvage his dignity. “I don’t wear diapers! I’m not a baby!” “But you were wet…” Kurai countered. Again, she said it so simply, so much like it was a matter of fact; a minor inconvenience at best instead of something he should be ashamed of. He wasn’t ashamed, but not in the way she was implying. “I fell off a cliff! Who wouldn’t pee themselves?!” Brilliant blue eyes blinked and Kurai stroked her human chin. “Hmmm, I guess that's a fair point.” She looked around the tiny, admittedly cluttered room. “But why is this place so messy? She asked. Are you sure you’re not a little boy who’s just playing house?” Not for the first time since he woke up, did Takayama feel intense shame. He was never the most organized or particularly cleanly. “Ummm?” “Even if you’re not a baby,” Kurai said, “you’re definitely having trouble taking care of yourself.” He felt the full weight of her gaze on him and looked away. She gasped and the sharp intake of air turned into another girlish giggle. “Look at you!” she explained, “You say you’re not a baby, but you’re already wet!” “Huh? No I’m-...” Takayama looked down at the diaper. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t felt the urge to pee since Kurai had transformed into a giant horned monster. She’d scared him so badly that he’d wet his pants again. “The-line-turned-blue!” Kurai said in a sing-song voice. “I-know-what-that-means! The lady at the store told me.” She rose and started taking steps toward him. “Looks like a lot, too. Let’s get you changed, okay?” Changed? Takayama did not like where this was headed. “Um…that’s okay,” he said, taking a step back. “That’s not needed Miss dragon lady ma’am.” “Please,” she said, still coming closer. “Call me Kurai. How about you lay down? We can talk after you’re dry and clean.” His apartment was so small that he had no hope of getting away from her. His back was pressed against the door. “Th-th-that’s really not necessary, Kurai.” “Oh?” Kurai said, clearly not believing him. “Do you mean you’re really okay with sitting and talking and playing in a wet diaper?” “What? No!” “That doesn’t sound like something an adult would say,” she teased. “For a second I thought you might be a big boy and that you didn’t have any diapers left because you were potty training. But if you’re so determined to stay wet…” The young man felt his heart jackhammering inside of him. “That’s not what I mean at all!” “We can keep playing and talking,” the horned woman said firmly. “After I change you.” THUD-THUD-THUD! The pounding from the other side of the door was so hard that Takayma felt his sternum rattling around. “Takayama!” a growling, deep throated voice thundered, “open up! You’re three days past due!” “It’s my landlord!” Takayama yelped. “Land? Lord?” Kurai frowned, as if the very concept was foreign to her. Being a dragon, it very well could have been. “I thought you humans would have been done with feudalism by- Hey! Where did you go?” Takayama poked his head out from behind the futon. “We’re not here! Hide!” He shouldn’t have been able to sneak past the dragon in humanoid form, especially not in a bulging, sagging, sopping wet diaper. It’s miraculous what can be accomplished when one is afraid and the rent is due. The diaper itself was providing extra incentive. “I can’t let him see me like this…” he hissed. “Oh silly!” Kurai shook her head. “Wanting to play hide and seek?” THUD-THUD-THUD! “Takayama!” His landlord shouted. “I can hear you in there! Come out or get thrown out!” “Hmph. Someone needs to learn some manners,” Kurai said. She reached for the doorknob and Takayama’s blood ran cold. What was she going to do to his landlord? Eat him? Set him on fire? Put him in a diaper, too? Takayama was pretty sure any of those options were illegal. “No,” he called from his hiding spot, not brave enough to step forward, “don’t.” Too late. The door flung open, revealing a balding middle aged man with a beer gut and a bowling shirt, stinking of cigar smoke. “Takaya-!” The landlord stopped when he saw Kurai. “Who are you?” “I’m sorry,” Kurai said, folding her hands in front of her, politely. “Takayama can’t come out to play right now. He just woke up from a nap after almost falling off a cliff.” The landlord looked flabbergasted, hearing his tenant referred to, as if he were a small child, understandably caught him off guard. “Huh?” “I was about to change him and get him an afternoon snack,” Kurai said. “Come back later with a note from your Mommy and you can play if you want to.” The man’s face fell for an instant but he quickly recovered. “Look, lady, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m here for Takayama’s rent. I heard you and him talking and if he doesn’t pay me my rent I’m throwing his deadbeat ass out on the street.” “Rent?” Kurai said, curiously. “What is rent?” A landlord being asked what rent is is like a baseball player being asked what a bat was. It’s such a part of their daily lives that the concept of people not knowing the word was confusing to him. “What do you mean ‘what is rent’? I own this place, and if that loser doesn’t pay me what he owes me, he’s in for a world of hurt and a night of cold air!” The horned woman nodded. “Pay?” she said. “You want money?” “Yes! Pay!” the landlord barked. “Money! Now!” “Can I pay you the money instead?” “I don’t care if the friggin’ Queen of Sheba gives me my money. I just want my money!” “And you’ll leave us alone if I give you money?” The dragon didn’t sound afraid or angry; more like an adult trying to understand the rules to an overly complicated and nonsensical children’s game. The landlord smacked his forehead. “For a month, yeah. Then the rent is due again.” “Ooooooh!” Kurai said, seeming to finally understand. “Okay. I can do that.” From behind the futon and inside the hallway, respectively, Takayama and his cantankerous landlord watched as Kurai’s mouth opened wide. “Ug…ug….ugh…” Both men stood and watched, perplexed while uncomfortable gagging noises came up and out of the girl’s mouth. “Hey…what are you?” but the landlord cut himself off when Kur reached down her own throat down to the elbow. There was a sickening wet sound when her arm came back up, and in her hand was a gleaming white pearl the size of a ping-pong ball. Takayama’s landlord looked like he was about to have a heart attack. For the first time that day, his countenance was of someone who had just witnessed the impossible, yet his gaze was fixed solidly onto the massive pearl in Kurai’s dainty hand and not her horns or mouth. “Is…is that thing real…?” Kurai placed the still wet pearl in his hand. “Yes. Will this be enough so that Takayama doesn’t need to play rent this month?” The landlord looked down at his palm and back up to the woman who had just regurgitated. “Uh…yeah…” “Good,” Kurai said. “See you next month.” She didn’t wait for a reply. Instead she slammed the door right in his face. If the grouch objected, he didn’t say anything. Takayama jumped back over the futon, not caring how ridiculous he looked “What was that?!” he asked. Not understanding, Kurai restated the events that had just transpired. “He wanted money, so I gave it to him so he would go away.” “Yeah, but where did you get that money from?!” The brown haired woman with antlers waved the question off. “Oh, I have lots of pearls. They form naturally in me, so it’s no trouble getting rid of them. I hope it makes him happy.” “But that pearl must have been worth a fortune!” “Silly Taka-chan,” Kurai laughed. “I’m a dragon. A spirit. Spirits don’t care about money.” “Then why did you care about the money I left at that shrine?!” he demanded. Kurai laughed again. “It’s not about money, it’s about sacrifice. People who have a lot must give a lot. An emperor has so much, he’d have to give up his country for someone like me to notice. But the poor and unfortunate have so little to give that they lose so much more when they do.” She walked towards him and tickled him under his chin with her index finger. “Those coins were among your last worldly possessions, so it was a very big tribute!” Her voice went squeaky and she pinched his cheeks. “Yes it was! Such a big tribute! One that I’m enthusiastically honored and bound to repay!” Takayama pulled back away from her pinching fingers. “How big?” he rubbed his sore cheeks. “Honestly?” Kurai said, grinning. “I thought you might have been a child at first. Usually those are the only ones that have tributes even close to that level, since they don’t own anything. Yours felt much much bigger, though.” “See?!” Takayama said. “That proves I’m not a kid! So all this talk about babies and diapers is unnecessary. Kurai leaned forward and gave him a playful, mischievous grin. “I know you’re not a child. Not just any child. I figured it out.” Takayama allowed himself a sigh of relief. “Oh. Good.” A weak smile started to form on his face. “You’re an orphan!” The twenty something man was so taken aback that he fell down to the floor, his fall broken by the fluffy padding taped to his bottom. “Wha-?!” “That’s why your gift was so good!” Kurai explained. “You’re not just a baby, you’re an orphan baby! You don’t have anyone to take care of you or love you. No toys or allowance. You probably had to beg in the streets for those few coins that you gave me. It was so precious and sweet!” She was starting to tear up with joy. “My parents are both alive!” Takayama insisted, feeling quite offended. The river of tears pouring from Kurai’s sky blue eyes suddenly doubled. “Oh no! An abandoned orphan! That’s even sadder! You poor thing! It all makes complete sense, now!” She was more than just a spirit or a dragon. She was also a crazy person. Her tears stopped as quickly as they’d started. “Don’t you worry now, little Taka-chan! You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got Nanny Kurai to take care of you!” Her playful grin turned evil. “Now let’s get you changed.” Pride and panic coalesced into a moment of inspiration. Takayama looked towards a laundry basket a few feet away. Then he looked to the open bathroom door. “Um…okay,” he said. “But do you have baby wipes?” The dragon lady standing over him tilted her head? “You mean those flimsy rags that you throw away after wiping?” “Yes!” he yelped. “Those!” Kurai snapped her fingers. “Darn it. You’re right! I forgot to get some at the store. They seemed very convenient, too.” She leaned over, but at least her hands were aiming for his armpits and not his diaper. “You’re wet, but your diaper will hold for a quick trip to the store.” “Or…” Takayama said, finally a step ahead. “You could just use a washcloth.” She followed his gaze over to the bathroom. “Yes,” she smiled. “That’s a very good idea for the short term. So clever!” Kurai stood up, leaving Takayama on the floor and she walked towards the bathroom. “I’ll make sure to warm it up, too,” she clucked. “I’m sure that will feel much nicer.” She found a wet washcloth at the bottom of the tub and rinsed it in the sink, adding a healthy amount of soap. A slight puff of air from her lips warmed the water enough so that it would be pleasant on his delicate skin. She rang the rag out, careful to use only enough force so that it wasn’t dripping. “Okay,” she called. “Let’s get you sorted-” But when she turned around and exited the bathroom, the boy was nowhere to be seen. The only clue left was an open window leading to a fire escape. “Hm? Where did he go?” ***************************************************************************************************** Out on the streets, Takayama was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “This is all crazy,” he said to himself, running as fast and as far as he could while still trying to seem inconspicuous among the milling crowds of people going about their business. “I’m hallucinating. This is a fever dream.” Even he didn’t believe the words he was saying. On some fundamental level he knew everything that had happened was real. Denying helped. “Or I’m dead and this is Hell.” He took a moment to stop looking over his shoulder, and down at his pants. “Maybe not Hell. Limbo?” That didn’t sound quite right either. “Maybe this is one of the Samsara Realms and I am preta…” He sounded crazy. Felt crazy, too. He certainly looked crazy enough. His hair was disheveled, and he was running around on hot asphalt completely barefoot. The baggy red shorts he slipped on over the diaper weren’t baggy enough and anyone who looked at him with any kind of scrutiny could likely see just how puffy and round his crotch and backside were compared to the rest of him. He’d been too hurried to grab his shoes, and too afraid that the crazy dragon lady would hear him ripping the tapes off his diaper. Velcro was very loud and dragons probably had excellent hearing. So he was left ducking, weaving, and waddling, while looking over his shoulder looking every bit the toddler who had run away from his mommy. “Mom!” Takayama said to himself. “I can go to my parents’ place! They can hide me!” He looked back over his shoulder anyways. “But where do I go,” he wondered, “to take off my dia-?” OOF! For the third time that day, Takayama fell. This time it was because he’d smacked himself straight into a brick wall in human form. For the second time that day his fall was broken by the cushion of pulp and padding he’d been forced to wear. “Hey!” the stranger said. “Watch where you’re going you…! Takayama?” This was no stranger. Splay legged on the ground, Takayama gazed up at who he had just collided with. A mountain of a man with a chiseled chin and a scar on his face. Beside him were young men close to or only slightly older than Takayama, dressed much more nicely than he or most people his age could afford to. Just as he had with Kurai’s horns, Takayama couldn’t help but stare at their left pinkies; each one missing the tip down to the first knuckle. These were not friends. “Hey Itsuki,” Takayama gulped. “It’s good to see you.” The men circled around Takayama, wolves cutting off a prey’s escape. The biggest one, Itsuki, reached down and yanked Takayama up to his feet. “You too, bud. You too.” He held Takayama close to him, draping his tree trunk arms over Takayama’s shoulders. “We were just over at your place but you were out. Let’s catch up.” They were already walking into an alley. Itsuki’s lackeys in front and behind them, providing a screen. “Sure,” Takayama mumbled, feigning that he had a choice. Getting the attention of a magical spirit beast was beginning to look very tempting right then. So was falling off a mountain cliff. Life was filled with opportunities for hardship, and too often the best choice still wasn’t a particularly good one. Getting in deep with loan sharks so he could pay rent and still eat had been one such choice. It would have been fine, he’d told himself, as long as he kept his job. The company had decided to make cutbacks a month later, leaving Takayama to pay the loan back with part of their own money. There was always the matter of interest. A cinderblock of a fist made its way into Takayama’s gut the second they were all in the alleyway. “That’s for making us look for you,” Itsuki said, his voice glacier-cold. Takayama almost collapsed but the other thugs held him up. A second fist upside his head made Takayama go deaf for a moment, leaving him unable to hear the mean spirited snickers of his assailants. “That’s for bumping into me.” Itsuki said some more but it was hard to hear it past the sudden ringing in his ears. Stupidly, Takayama turned his head this way and that, hoping for a miracle. To his right was the way he’d been dragged in. To his left was a dead end. That was fitting. "Yo,” one of Itsuki’s little henchmen snickered. “Is this guy wearing a diaper?" Takayama wasn’t given the benefit of a rebuttal. No sooner was the question posed than it was answered the old fashioned way, leaving his shorts puddled around his ankles. He was hurting too much to feel humiliated, and was too dizzy and weak to look away. He couldn’t even pull his shorts back up as his arms were being held. "Doesn't the Kageru gang run one of those weird kink brothels?” Another of the street toughs asked his friends. “How much you wanna bet he was there?" The man mountain, Itsuki, shrugged. "Hey kid, no judgment. You can get your kicks however you want.” He wagged a finger that was the size of Itsuki’s nose. “But you should be paying back what you owe first. With your interest you can't afford to be getting your ass powdered." He grabbed Takayama’s face and started pressing the back of his skull up against the alley. Takayama thought he could hear his bones cracking. “Can you?” “No, Itsuki,” Takayama said. “I can’t. I’m sorry!” “‘Sorry’ don’t pay my bills, kid.” Through the spaces between the gangster’s fingers, Takayama saw his assailant reach into his pocket. The knife he produced looked more like a scalpel in the man’s ham hock fists. “‘Sorry’ don’t keep your kidneys, either.” Takayama slammed his eyes closed. Falling off that cliff would have been better… "Yo guys,” one of Inati’s minions said. “We got company…” Standing in the alleyway, head held high, wearing a white shirt and blue jumper dress was a pretty brown haired woman with the most piercing blue eyes and oddly enough a pair of horns protruding from out her forehead. One fist was tightly clenched. The other held a new pack of baby wipes. “What is this despicable display?” Kurai demanded, marching forward. She was fearless, because of course she was. “Who are you,” Itsuki asked. “His mom?” It wasn’t funny but it got a laugh from the assembled underlings. “Nah,” Itsuki said. “You’re too young and pretty. His girlfriend?” That earned even more laughter from his band of sycophants. He took his hand off of Takayama’s face and swaggered over to her. “Let me guess. Little punk skipped out on paying you, too.” “If you must know,” Kurai spat, “he ran away from home when I was about to change his diaper.” The alleyway erupted with laughter; so much so that Takayama was allowed to slink back down to the alley floor. The horns started to pulsate with crackling energy, but the gangsters kept right on laughing. TheWhy did no one but him seem to notice the horns? More importantly, why hadn’t anyone noticed her shadow? There in the alleyway, with the sun spotlighting her perfectly, Kurai’s shadow did not match her silhouette. Itsuki waved the knife tauntingly. He was a head taller than her in her present form and had no idea that she had others. “Look lady, I don’t know what he owes you, but I”m damn sure he owes our boss a lot more. So why don’t you piss off and let the men talk? We’re not gonna kill him this time, but he needs a reminder to keep up with his payments. You can have what’s left of him after we-” DON! Itsuki didn’t get to finish his sentence. With a single, openhanded slap thundered like a cannon and sent all three hundred pounds of Itsuki’s pure muscle flipping end over end like dime through the air until he left a man mountain sized dent in the dead end wall. The only thing that signaled he might be alive was the low rumbling groan he emitted while his body skidded down to the floor. Takayama looked up and over at Kurai. The woman’s bright blue eyes glowed hot red and her horns sparked with lightning. Before he lost consciousness, Takayama heard the dragon lady say one word. “Unacceptable.” ************************************************************************************************** Takayama was falling again, tumbling through the air. Any second now his body would be dashed upon the rocks. But as time slowed down he realized how miserable his life had been up to that moment. Instead of the sad acceptance of his fate, a different, almost content feeling washed over him. Something warm and cozy. Pleasant even. It was almost as if he was swaddled in warm comforting blankets. “Come on,” a now familiar voice coaxed him. “Can’t have you sleeping all day, now.” Takayama opened his eyes and saw a perfectly cheery and content Kurai smiling down at him. His head was back in her lap with her deadly yet delicate fingers running through his hair. “That’s right. Two naps is more than enough for one day, I think.” “Where am I?” Takayama asked. That’s what he’d meant to ask, but the massive rubber bulb of the pacifier he’d been suckling on impossibly slurred his speech beyond recognition. Kurai seemed to understand him, anyway. “It’s okay,” she cooed at him. “You’re safe back home. Your Nanny Kurai made those awful men go away. They won’t be bothering you anymore.” She sat him up enough so that she could wrap her arms around his torso and pull him in for a hug. Unlike Itsuki’s embrace, this one had no malice behind it. “Fankoo,” he mumbled. Looking down at himself, Takayama realized that he was no longer in a diaper. Correction: He was no longer in just a diaper. He was also wearing a light blue onesie that matched her jumper, a yellow bib was tied around his neck, too. Then there was the pacifier. Interestingly, he noticed, his tiny apartment looked cleaner than it had ever been; possibly cleaner than it had before he’d moved in. “Your life is very troublesome, Taka-Chan,” the dragon in human form said. “I think you need someone to look after you.” She hugged him a little harder and that warm cozy feeling washed over him again. Takayama hugged her back. What choice did he have? It might be nice to have a pretty Nanny Dragon to help him keep awful people away while he put his life together. “Mkay,” he slurred over his pacifier. Like his impending doom, that moment of contentment stretched out longer to him than was scientifically possible. Also like his earlier brush with death, it was not meant to last. Takayama’s nose twitched. THAT SMELL!!! Only one thing smelled like that! And it was coming from Takayama! Kurai stood up from the futon, and brought Takayama with her. She was so strong that she held him out away from her, keeping his feet dangling. “Uh oh!” she cooed. “I think I’ve got a stinky silly baby on my hands!” She looked absolutely proud and ecstatic just in saying it. The humiliated young man spit out his pacifier. “What? Why?!” Then he asked, “What happened? What did you do?!” With no effort, she transported him down to a changing mat on the floor. She’d done even more shopping while he’d fainted. “You seemed really stressed. I just wanted to help you relax,” Kurai told him. “And then I realized that somebody tried to teach you to go potty before. That’s why you’re so confused and fussy.” She laughed, mostly to herself. “How silly! A baby doesn’t need to know how to go potty!” With one hand she reached for a fresh diaper. With the other she popped open a package of baby wipes. “So I just did a little magic and pop, pop, pop,” each utterance of pop accompanied the unfastening of his onesie, “and bye bye potty training!” “Why?!” he asked. His indignation did nothing to stop her from shimming the onesie up past his belly button, revealing a thoroughly used diaper. “Why would it be a problem? You don’t use the potty anyway.” “My potty training was one of the few things I had!” Takayama shrieked. “Practically the only thing!” To his horror and frustration, Takayama realized that he couldn’t even remember the steps used in going to the bathroom. He was a literal blank slate as far as toileting went. “It was!” Kurai agreed. “That’s what made it so sweet!” She blew raspberries into his tummy. Much to Takayama’s, he felt a little more pee sprinkle out of him. “Don’t worry. You’ll get it back when you’re ready. Until then, my widdle Taka-chan is gonna have his Miss Kurai to take care of him.” The sound of giant velcro tapes coming undone could be heard through the paper thin walls of the apartment complex. So could Takayama’s ensuing tantrums. Some little ones just hated getting their diapers changed, Kurai supposed. That day was the day Takayama experienced a very strange backwards form of reincarnation? In a figurative sense, it felt that everything before today no longer mattered in Takayama’s life. He was starting life from the beginning again. Everything before this moment no longer really mattered, and that there would be many more changes- both literal and figurative- to come. (The End)

Things Work Out Jem finished the stitching on his latest creation: A blue bunny stuffie that was going to a good home. He’d add on button eyes and few other finishing touches so that it looked nice and clean that afternoon and then ship it off. He took a moment to take a picture at the almost completed work, and then sent a message to his client to inform them of the progress. Standard operating procedure. Jem was careful to keep any part of his body or clothes out of frame; along with any environmental clues that would give away that the person making Mr. Bun Bun was a Little. Also standard operating procedure. Like most average Littles, Jem’s life tended towards the quiet, cautious, and cloistered. He had what he felt was a solid network of friends, mostly other Littles and a token Tweener, but they never went anywhere; opting to just visit each other’s homes. There were larger Little communities where people of his stature knew how to get the most out of their size using society’s scraps; but they were almost always on the move and skittish to boot, like the old stories of circus workers and carnies. Spending one’s whole life looking over their shoulder, afraid of giants, was no way to live, or so Jem reasoned. If Adoption was the death of self that so many Littles seemed to think it was, then Jem would do what most people did and just live his life with that knowledge and not think about it. With black medium length hair, hazel eyes, and a rather unremarkable build, Jem might or might not have been adopted. A giant Mommy might not take any interest in him or she might see a blank slate upon which to paint; a real coinflip. What tilted the odds towards Adoption were the light freckles on his cheeks that had never fully faded from childhood. A mad giant could certainly see that and jump to conclusions. The Little craftsman caught his reflection in an empty glass of water and shrugged at the thought. He was only twenty. Unless he was extremely cautious, he wouldn’t make it to thirty outside of a crib. But why worry? Like most Littles, he was ambitious, happy, and had found a niche to excel in. To be fair, how ‘most Littles’ felt depended on one’s search radius. There were neighborhoods, towns, cities, counties, states, regions, and countries where the majority of people Jem’s size had had their potty privileges permanently revoked and the only dates they went on were playdates arranged by their massive adoptive parents. Jem saw no reason to dwell too much on it. He’d seen more than enough people his age and older being pushed around in strollers or getting their butts wiped for them in the back of somebody’s minivan. Most of them seemed to like it; like it or had at least learned to live with it. ‘Jeremy Meadows’s Joyful Mementos’ was something of a mouthful, but the Artsy account was paying Jem’s rent and putting groceries in his refrigerator. Jem had unusually dexterous fingers, even for a Little, and good spatial awareness and fine motor control. He’d applied those skills and created an at home custom baby clothes and stuffed animal business. Jeremy Meadows was his real name; very professional sounding. His mother lovingly called him Jem, however, and the name had grown with him. He was Jeremy Meadows according to the banks and online customers. Jem was for his friends and his own inner monologue. Standing up and stretching Jem went to get his shoes. “Laundry time.” A few times a week, Jem would run some of his creations through the apartment complex’s coin operated washers and dryers (on low of course) just to give them that comfortable worn in feeling before shipping them off to his customers. It was a nice touch that many reviews noted and praised him for. More than a few of his creations and alterations were going to babied Littles, Jem knew. He had one customer who had ordered eight different onesies or rompers in as many months, and the measurements always stayed the same. Real children grew faster than that, and the shipping address wasn’t listed as a daycare. Jem just did another mental shrug. At least he knew whatever Little was wearing his outfits would be comfortable. Sometimes, he tried his creations on for himself in the privacy of his own room to see how they moved and felt in different positions. No diaper of course, but he’d experimented with layering every pair of briefs on top of one another or using a pillow and a belt. Not quite the same he was sure, but he figured it gave him the right gait. Close enough to simulate a dry diaper. Sometimes Amazon Mommies and Daddies would send him pictures of their ‘babies’ playing with or cuddling the plushies he’d sewn. They all seemed genuinely happy, cuddling the stuffie or mid giggle. Jem made sure not to put any mind control tracks into the stuffies; not even those bells that threw off a Little’s inner ear while stimulating their pleasure response. He tested each bell ordered from a craft supply site himself, just in case. His conscience was clear. Every now and then, a satisfied customer would send a picture of their Little one cuddling the stuffie, and their Mommy or Daddy would be cuddling them in their laps; a regular nesting doll effect of laps. Those bothered Jem for some reason and yet he lingered on those photos longer than he felt was proper before deletion. Jem got his shoes on and grabbed his keys, a mesh laundry bag, and a laundry card before heading out of his apartment. It was an Amazon sized space, with Amazon sized doors that needed to be retrofitted to accommodate Littles. It was nothing that a pull rope on the inside and a step ladder bolted into the cement on the outside didn’t fix. He whistled tunelessly and boldly walked to the public laundry room, sounding everything like the chipper birds in the trees above. His whistling seemed to get louder in the laundry room. All the machines were at rest and so there was only concrete, tile, and metal to dull the high pitched air moving out of his lips. Other Littles would have avoided making unnecessary noises, fearful that it might attract attention. Others might put such boldness as a strategic risk to blend in. Jem had no such forethought or motivations. He just didn’t like the sound of silence. The room was divided into two halves. Washers on one side, driers on the other. Both were side loaders, so there was no having to climb and dive in to fetch anything. Jem didn’t know how he would have managed otherwise. A button push unlatched the lowest dryer near the back. “Timed it perfect,” Jem complimented himself upon feeling the blast of hot hair from the comparatively massive porthole. There were few things as simple and satisfying as nice hot laundry fresh from the dryer. Opening his white mesh laundry bag he started putting the latest batch in, being careful to check each shirt, onesie, romper, and sundress, to make sure that it wasn’t damp. His friends in real life and the ones he kept in contact with on the net wouldn’t approve of the idea of him handling Little sized baby clothes in public. Too great a risk. To Jem’s mind, there was no risk. If an Amazon wanted him as their baby boy they’d find or invent a reason. Paranoid precautions that interfered with life were pointless. In lieu of coins, every appliance had a card swipe that only accepted a special kind of card given to tenants. Jem kept a hefty balance on his because he always made sure that his products were completely dry before ironing, folding, and packaging for shipment. Hot and damp was not a great combination. Trouble was the heat could sometimes disguise the dampness, and a romper that needed another ten to twenty minutes would end up a wrinkled mess. It was always a gamble with these metal behemoths. Jem took one such romper, a tie-dye alteration that when it was done would say “Mommy’s Little Crinkle Butt” up to his face and towards an open window, hoping that the sunlight would illuminate any patches of moisture. “Oh! Hey there buddy!” An unfamiliar voice rang out. “What are you doing here? Where’s your Mommy?” Time slowed down for Jem. He’d read about this sort of thing on MistuhGwiffin.web. An Amazon would see a Little in a potentially compromising position- a rattle picked up off the ground, a headband or other clothing accessory that was a bit too ‘immature’, just really bad gas-and things would escalate from there if the Little wasn’t quick. Jem calmly lowered the romper away from his face and started neatly folding it. His pulse barely picked up speed as he gently placed it in the sack and then looked way up at the intruding Amazon like he had barely registered the deep booming masculine voice. “Hm?” As soon as he made eye contact with the newcomer, Jem felt his pulse start to pick up. All Amazons are giant compared to their Little counterparts: Bigger, stronger, faster, the works. The man in front of Jem with his short brown hair and day old stubble, looked like an Amazon among Amazons. It’s not that he was any more massive than your average amazon- not a whale among elephants- but he was decidedly more physically fit than the average pram pusher. With that physique and definition, Jem could tell that this stranger pushed more than strollers. Probably did more cardio than just slow paced leisurely strolls through a park or pushing a shopping cart aisle after aisle at the supermarket. An errant, uninvited thought jumped into Jem’s mind: A shame The Amazon took Jem in: Jem’s jeans weren’t the most professional looking, but the black collared polo shirt should have done the trick. He was certainly more ‘mature’ looking than Mr-Basketball-Shorts-No-Shirt-So-You-Could-See-His-Abs-Beneath-The-Laundry-Basket. The bigger man puckered his lips a moment and then looked ashamed. “Oh. My bad. Sorry dude. I thought. It’s just I saw the…and you’re…” He placed the basket full of dirty clothes down and scratched the back of his head. “You know what. My bad. Sorry. Carry on and ignore me. I’ll just mind my own business.” He looked older to Jem, but not by much; late twenties, maaaaaaaybe early thirties. It was the subtle difference of a few years that only young adults really noticed, regardless of physical size. High school was filled with baby teenagers. Anybody over thirty was old. Anybody older than twenty five was somehow mature but accessible. Or perhaps that was just how Jem’s brain worked. At the moment, this mature yet accessible looking Amazon had all the awkward mannerisms of an adorable puppy who’d just been caught tearing at a slipper. Good, Jem thought. Sensible. An Amazon that admits when he made a mistake. “It’s cool.” Jem heard himself say. “Honest mistake.” “Awesome. Appreciate it.” And so the two occupied the otherwise desolate space for a few more uncomfortable minutes. It should have been over more quickly, Jem had figured. It didn’t take very long to dump in dirty clothes, throw in a laundry pod and then bounce. But things took longer, because the stranger was also picking up a load of laundry from the drier. Like Jem, he seemed determined to fold every single article of clothing, underwear included. “Can I ask you a question?” the giant said, breaking the silence. Jem looked up from a pair of shortalls that he’d stitched a smiley sun onto the front and an adorably frowny raincloud to the seat. His work was holding up well. Were he being honest with himself, Jem would admit that he was only paying such close attention because of how nervous he was. “Yes sir?”, he responded “Are those baby clothes?” The man asked. “Yes sir,” Jem said kindly enough. “They are.” Another twitch of self-consciousness flashed over the man’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Are they…your baby clothes?” “They’re mine in that I made them and I’m selling them. But they’re not for me.” “Ooooh!” The man said, a wave of relief and realization falling right over him. “That makes so much sense! I just…I saw…and I thought…” He searched for the right phrase but finally gave up. ”Do you make them yourself from scratch or by hand or machine?” Jem’s cheeks turned rosey and he felt like stuttering, but the words came out of him like flowing water. “A bit of everything, really. Sometimes I make them from a pattern. Other times I’ll take a plain outfit and modify it with decorations. You can turn a t-shirt into a onesie if you buy them bigger than usual and then alter it a bit.” The giant man nodded his understanding, those dreamy blue eyes never blinking. “Okay. Yeah. I get it. So you do custom orders.” The Little allowed himself a faint smirk. “Pretty much. It costs more, but lots of parents”- Jem was careful not to say Mommies and Daddies- “want their baby to stand out, so it’s worth it to them to pay the extra cost. I also do stuffies.” “Yeah,” the man said. “Okay. Makes sense. I’d pay extra for fancy baby clothes. Especially if my baby wasn’t gonna to grow up.” A chill danced its way up Jem’s back. “Beg pardon?” The Amazon looked shocked and embarrassed all over again. “No wait. Not like…I didn’t mean.” He looked down at himself as if for the first time. “Shit!” he hissed. “I mean ‘crud’!” He reached into the dryer and dug out a t-shirt. “You’re here taking care of business, and I’m practically in my skivvies. Sorry!” He pulled the maroon colored t-shirt over him, hiding his physique, but making him seem dressed more appropriately if still casually. In faded but still legible black letters were the words. “Carmen’s Gym” “Let me start over. Hi, my name’s Nate,” he said. He leaned over and reached out a massive hand towards Jem. Boldly and seemingly unafraid, Jem reciprocated and allowed his tiny hands to be engulfed. “Jeremy Meadows, of ‘Jeremy Meadows Joyful Memories’.” Jem resisted the urge to fish around in his pocket for a business card, but only because he knew he didn’t have any on him. “Nice to meet you Mr. Meadows,” Nate said and released his hand. Astonishment buzzed behind Jem’s eyes. He’d never known one of the big people to deliberately call a Little ‘Mr.” or “Miss’ without prompting. Nate looked down at his t–shirt. “Oh uh…Nathan Quinn. Carmen’s Gym.” He slid his hand across his pecs, underlining the words. “I’m a personal trainer. Workout coach and stuff.” This was all so terribly, wonderfully awkward that Jem didn’t know how to feel about it in the moment. His brain and mouth just decided to start going on autopilot. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn” “Oh, you don’t have to call me that, Little dude. Nate’s fine.” His smile became easier, more relaxed. “It’s what my friends call me.” “Friends call me Jem.” Oh yikes! Why did he say that? Jem instantly wanted to regret that. “Cool. Jem.” Nate said, like he was trying the word out in his head. The thin smile on his lips might have meant he liked it. “So yeah. Total transparency, I don’t know many Littles. Most of my friends don’t have kids and haven’t decided to Adopt, so if I say something messed up, I promise it’s not on purpose and I’m trying to learn.” Like implying the only way an Amazon might know a Little is if one was Adopted? That kind of messed up? Jem didn’t speak the thought out loud, however. As it turns out, he didn’t need to. The Amazon caught himself and smacked himself on the forehead. “Fuck, I did it again!” He slapped himself on the forehead. “I mean, ‘man’. Man, I did it again! Da…darn it!” Jem had stopped folding his clothes and was just now slowly placing them in the bag on top of the folded ones. He’d definitely have to iron them all later. He could only focus on so much at one time and this intriguing Cerbernard puppy given Amazon form had his full attention. “You can swear around me, you know,” Jem said. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Or said.” “Hm?” Nate said. “Oh, no. That. Sorry. The cursing thing isn’t you. It’s just a bad habit of mine I’m trying to break. My boss doesn’t like swearing and I’m trying to break myself of the habit.” That might have been true, Jem thought, but it had the flavor of a lie of omission. This guy was definitely monitoring his words more closely because of Jem’s stature. “Why?” Jem probed. Nate shrugged and flopped his hands by his side. “Oh you know. Gym culture is kinda toxic. We get better business and better customers if we keep ourselves polite and professional and stuff. That and my boss also owns the daycare next…” And the hits just kept on coming. “Uh…huh.” “Okay,” the charming idiot deflated. “Full disclosure. My parents were pretty conservative growing up. Said all Littles were immature babies that never grew up. I don’t believe that. And I had some gal pal’s back in college who were studying about Maturesis or whatever it’s called…like that some Littles are adults and then just one day snap into kids or whatever. I don’t know about that, either.” He quickly tacked on. “Unless you say that’s a thing, I mean. I’ll listen if it is.” “It’s not.” Jem shook his head. “Okay. Cool. Just like. I got some bad habits all around that I’m trying to break.” He held out his palm. “Not that it’s your job to help me or anything. I’m explaining, not excusing.” This himbo just kept on digging, and the worst part was Jem wanted him to dig more and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with wanting to watch the big man squirm. “Sure…” “My point is I’m sorry if I offended you. I know that Littles have some physical difficulties and need help reaching stuff sometimes, or can’t run as fast or lift as much, but that doesn’t make you children.” Those sky blue eyes were practically begging for affirmation. “Yeah. We agree.” Jem nodded. What could he say, he was starting to feel sorry for the big lug. Amazons tended to be crazy and thoughtless, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t also be nice, well meaning people. This Nate was kind of proving that point. “Cool. Sorry. Next time I’ll be better.” Jem didn’t consciously realize he’d cocked an eyebrow. “Next time?” “If we ever see…each other…in the laundry…?” Nate was definitely realizing how stupid he was sounding. “Okaaaaaaaay,” he course corrected. “Let me try it this way. If we see each other again, I’m not gonna make the same mistakes.” There was no talking as each measured the other up. “If you ever want a free workout, come on by to the gym and ask for me. I’m not great at talking, but I’m good at coaching and spotting.” The Little felt his head lightly bobble. “Okay,” Jem said. “Sure. I’ll think about it.” Why did he say that?! Nate’s smile lit up. “Great! Hope to see you.” That was as good a time as any for Jem to seal up the bag and calmly walk out of the laundry room. “Me too.” What?! “See you around, Nate.” “Yeah. You too. Later, Jem. Nice to meet you!” Though his feet were calm, Jem’s mind was racing thirty paces ahead of him. Why had he done that? Why had he told this giant his name? Formal or otherwise? Why had he taken it easy on him when the guy was clearly uncomfortable. Making Amazons uncomfortable was what Littles did, especially when it came to Adoption. Why hadn’t he run or…or…or done literally anything else? What was Jem thinking? In truth, Jem didn’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t have the words for it. Among Amazon parlance, cossetting means a desire to love and protect a smaller person and treat them like they’re a child. On the spectrum of emotions, a cosset is between a schoolyard crush or ‘puppy love’ and the rush of dopey platonic love that some get when they see a baby and quietly feel the need to have a child of their own. Jem didn’t have the words for what he was experiencing, because in the slang of Little culture, there is no equal opposite attraction of a Little to an Amazon. And if there is, the word has never been spread far enough because those Littles don’t live as adults long enough for it to catch on. **************************************************************************************** In a more fair world, a gym next to a daycare, owned by the same person no less, would seem quirky at best. In a world ruled by Amazons it made a great deal of practical and fiscal sense. A quick web search for Carmen’s Gym and C.G. Daycare confirmed what Nate had slipped. The two establishments, one school bus yellow and the other brick dust red, fed into each other. Virtual tours confirmed that they shared a doorway, and the sites for each establishment linked to each other as well. Amazons with captured Littles, Tweeners, and actual babies (which the sites simply referred to as ‘children’) could be checked in at both hourly and daily rates with discounts given to gym members. Giant Gym rats could check in their diapered brats while they ran on a treadmill and pumped iron. Just as likely, they could drop them off for an entire day, go to work, come back tired and promise themselves that ‘next time’ they’d start that exercise routine they promised themselves several months prior. It wasn’t super common, but it wasn’t unheard of. One business more than likely propped up the other and the smart money was on the one that had an upcharge for ‘emergency diapers’ in the event that the parent didn’t supply enough or that the ‘baby’ was ‘new’ enough to only be in their first or second diaper in several decades. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” Jem said to himself crossing the street. His feet carried him through the crosswalk anyways. He regarded the bright yellow daycare. Its windows were reflective, but Jem knew there’d be at least a dozen Littles crinkling around on the floor on the other side. He paced left and caught his reflection in the low reflective glass. The daycare was probably a proper storefront at another time in its history. He looked at his reflection and pictured himself in one of his own custom onesies, a non-inflatable pacifier between his lips. He felt nothing, not even dread. Then he imagined a certain Amazon coming up behind him and giving him two pats- one on the head and one on his (hypothetically) padded bottom- and Jem forgot to breathe for a second. “This is a bad idea…” he whispered. He would never admit it to himself, but if Nate had told Jem that he worked in the daycare section, Jem would have likely found a reason to visit the yellow building over the red. Possibly to protest; possibly to shoot his mouth off until one particular Grown-Up saw no reason not to take away the Little's big kid pants forever. Jem got the luxury of pacing right and going into the faded red building, instead. He couldn’t reach the door handle, but a stroke of luck in the form of an exiting customer saved him the trouble. ’The sound of high powered air conditioning droned on over the rhythmic thumping of big feet thundering down on treadmills and the steady strained grunting of even bigger arms lifting weights. It was a relatively small gym; a single clean floor with enough room for a row of treadmills, several rows of weight machines, and free weights by a mirrored wall so that the dudest of dudebros could properly primp themselves and pretend that everyone was secretly looking at them. Small by Amazonian standards was still mammoth when scaled to a Little. No Nate though… Shit, was it the guy’s day off? He should have called ahead, or at least done more reconnaissance. Figured out which car belonged to the Amazon and checked the parking lot. Something! An oblong shiny black countertop closed off a good chunk wall that the gym shared with the daycare. Bright white lettering marked it as the Service Desk. As good as any place to look, Jem supposed. Feeling strangely timid he walked up to the counter and knocked on wood with a shave-and-a-haircut cadence so that he could bang loudly without seeming forceful. “Hello?” a blonde Amazon woman close to Jem’s age called out from the other side. Her face betrayed confusion until Jem repeated the cadence for her sake. “Oh! Hel-lo!” She chirped, poking her head over the barrier and her voice about an octave higher. “How did you get over…?” she blinked and frowned at his plain white sneakers with actual laces and his jeans that required a belt. “Wait a second. Stay right there.” She disappeared from sight and Jem had to back away to see her retreat through the adjoining door. The sounds of infantile giggling and fussy crying leaked into the echoey chamber just before the door closed. Jem waited. A small eternity that lasted two minutes later, the door opened again, and the sounds of giggles and screams (good or bad?) bled in before being suddenly cut off. This time, the young woman crouched underneath the partition separating the counter from the main floor. “Sorry about that, sir.” She said. “I thought one of our charges had toddled off or something.” She seemed nice enough, but far less self-conscious that she was actively referring to Littles as if they were children. All of the giggles and screams had sounded like post pubescent Littles to Jem’s ears. “The motion sensor we have by the door must be too high.” Jem inhaled and caught a whiff of baby powder coming from off his giant peer. “That’s fine. I came in when someone was just leaving.” He thought it would be polite to give her an out. The woman neither took nor seemed to care about the explanation. “How can we help you, friend? Do you need to use our phone? Is your scooter broken down? Do you need directions somewhere? Are you lost?” Yes. Yes he was lost. He’d made a mistake in coming here and he’d need someone to take him home. Maybe someone who lived in the same apartment complex as him could help. Someone big and strong with dreamy blue eyes. “I’m interested in working out,” Jem lied instead. The young woman frowned. For all intents and purposes she’d just heard a cat bark. “Okay…” she said in a way that signaled that it really wasn’t. “Let me go get someone for you.” On long striding legs, she power walked around the other side of the counter and through another door with an “Office” sign hanging from it. “Nate!” Jem called after her, but his voice fell quiet. It was only the rough approximation of a shout, not even close to the real thing. The door shut and closed him out. “Damn,” he hissed. The LIttle sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. The sweet aroma of baby powder just wouldn’t get out of his nostrils. The lady just trailed it in with her. Which was odd, considering that the gym didn’t reek of sweat. It wasn’t worrying, or even surprising; just telling about where priorities lay. “Jem?” The raven haired Little rose up to his tippy toes in surprise. He forced his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck down before he turned around to face the wonderful voice. “Hey dude,” Nate greeted. “What are you doing here? The Amazon’s hair was neatly brushed. His face was cleanly shaved. He wore a neat maroon polo tucked into khaki pants. In his muscular arms, he carried a clipboard. He didn’t have the relaxed but scruffy look from yesterday. Now he looked so…so...so Grown-Up. Jem sealed his lips to prevent himself from drooling. “Did you decide to take me up on my offer?” Dumbly, Jem nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Uh-huh.” The office door opened up and the woman from before followed out a second Amazon woman. This lady was older, but far from old, mid thirties at most. With her dirty blonde hair tied back in a pony tail and a maroon sweat suit she could have been the first one’s older sister; maybe even her mother, and the air of confident authority that said she was in charge. Nate, as well as the other staff Jem saw walking around the place, looked like a corporatized version of a life coach; a personal assistant but with weights. They clapped and encouraged people to go the extra mile in between cleaning up sweat, but that was it. If Nate worked out here (and he did work out) it certainly wasn’t dressed like this. Carmen, and she had to be Carmen, dressed like she was ready to start sprinting and pumping iron at a moment’s notice. If she made it another fifty years and kept the wardrobe, she might resemble the crusty but loveable trainer in a boxing movie. When she crossed the threshold, Jem thought he caught the slightest sigh of relief from the woman. “Hi there,” Carmen said. “What can I do for you Mister…?” Two Amazons leading with proper titles in as many days. Would unasked for wonders never cease? “Jem,” he stuttered. “I mean Jeremy Meadows.” Awkward handshakes were exchanged. “What can I do for you Mr. Meadows,” she repeated. Shaking and trembling more than he should, Jem thumbed to the gorgeous man behind him. “Nate is my…” he stuttered. “I mean I want him to be my…uh…” What the fuck was he trying to say? Friend? Daddy? Trainer? Yes please?! Jem couldn’t force himself to finish the sentence with anything. The giant of his infatuations filled in the blanks. “We live in the same apartment complex, Miss Carmen.” Nate said. “We got to talking and I offered him a complimentary session.” It was all the truth but not quite the words Jem was craving. Jem looked between the two remaining giants; the original one had taken her place back behind the counter. Nate stood with his clipboard folded in front of his lap. No winks were exchanged or secret signals or intonations. To Jem’s inexplicable disappointment, Nate was talking straight. How did other Littles provoke the ‘correct’ response from Amazons without even trying? The tilted her head forward appraisingly at Jem and placed her hands behind her. “Mr. Meadows, are you aware that my facility does not have any adaptive equipment for Tweeners or Littles?” Jem straightened up like a private at boot camp. “Yes ma’am.” “For safety reasons, you’ll have to have a spotter at all times. You realize that?” “Yes ma’am.” “You realize that if you become a member, you’ll be required to either have another member accompany you or purchase a session with one of our trainers so that they can ensure your safety?” Out of habit, Jem feigned interest. “Do members get a discount?” Carmen cocked her head to the side like a cat who’d seen a mouse do an amusing trick. “Yes. Yes they do.” “That’s acceptable, then.” Jem said. “Do I get to pick the trainer?” “Assuming they’re available that day, yes.”. “Is Nate available?” The owner chuckled dryly through her nose. “Yes. Yes he is.” She walked past Jem and placed her hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Nicely done, Nathan.” At the sound of that, Jem felt a faint feeling of…something…connected to the brief idea that he’d end up in a car seat before the day was out. ********************************************************************************* A few hours later… “Push dude!” Nate ordered. “I can’t!” Jem groaned, every phoneme a strain. “Don’t give me that talk, my guy! You can do it!” “No. I. Can’t.” “Do it for you!” He didn’t want to do it for him. “I don’t wanna do it for me!” Jem was straining so much that even his inner monologue wasn’t being filtered. This could end poorly. “Then do it for me!” Nate said. “Can you do it for me, my guy?!” For Nate? To impress him? He could do anything. Jem took a deep breath and pushed up with every fiber of his being.. “Yes. I. Can!” The giant metal bar that had been crushing Jem’s chest lifted up for the final time. The second his elbows fully extended, Nate bent over and relieved the Little of his burden, putting the massive weight back on the bar. “Nice, dude!” Panting and drenched in his own sweat, Jem sat up from the bench. He would have mopped his forehead with his shirt sleeve, but that was equally sopping. Jem had never sweat so much in his life. For his trial run he’d been given a baby blue jumpsuit with teddy bear ears on the hoodie and extra room in the back for a diaper Jem wasn’t wearing. It had Carmen’s Gym in italic font on the chest, but other than that it was basically footed pajamas from the daycare. “Sorry,” Nate apologized all too sincerely, “It’s the only thing we’ve got in your size. You can still slip these in your sneakers.” Jem had hoped that would be the first step in the right direction. He was terribly mistaken. There weren’t even any Amazon strength snaps anywhere, just a front facing zipper. This getup was very escapable if slightly inconvenient. He looked back at the heavy leaden bar that he’d been balancing and pressing at the same time, resting serenely back on its perch.. “Nice?” Jem panted. “Nice? That’s…just…the bar. I didn’t…even…get any weights on.” “It’s not about where you start, Little man.” The trainer started mopping up the sweaty outline Jem had left behind. “It’s where you end up. A couple months of this and some nutritional supplements and you’ll be able to give a Tweener a run for their money.” A couple of months?! Jem knew he couldn’t take this kind of torture for a couple of months. He didn’t want to beat up a Tweener either. He couldn’t say it out loud just yet, but he knew what he wanted, and it involved being cradled in someone else’s massive arms. He wanted to cry, but the sound that came out was more of a tired bark. Jem wasn’t sure if he could properly shed tears just then. That would have required fluids he didn’t possess at the moment. “Okay, bro,” Nate said, slapping him on the back. “I think that’s enough for one day. Good workout. Do you want to sign up for the full membership? No. No he didn’t. Not at all. Jem wanted nothing more than to crawl home into his bed and die a mummified corpse. “Yeah.” He said. “Sure.” Dragging his feet and feeling like a ragdoll, Jem followed Nate back over to the counter where he was handed a clipboard. Maybe this was part of the gym’s standard operating procedure for Adopting out Littles. Push them to the brink of exhaustion and then have them wake up in a playpen. Imagine his disappointment when he read through the lengthy gym membership contract line by line and found it to be just a lengthy gym membership contract. No maturity clauses. No loopholes. Nothing even close to a double entendre that meant if he couldn’t pay his monthly dues he’d be dragged back into the nursery like the irresponsible Little boy he clearly was… So much for the easy way. He signed his name on the dotted line and handed it back up to Nate. “Welcome to the club,” Nate said. “See you tomorrow?” “Yeah,” Jem sighed. “Sure.” ********************************************************************************* Thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck. The rhythmic beating sound smacking in Jem’s ears the next day had nothing to do with anything he’d been fantasizing about. They weren’t from him loudly suckling on a pacifier that Nate had shoved between his lips. They weren’t Nate’s wonderfully massive hands patting him on the back in an attempt to burp the Little. In a weird, almost perverse way, Jem was even disappointed that the beat wasn’t the result of a spanking. Spankings held a strange kind of primal terror for Littles, Jem included, but having his bottom smacked by a giant palm, hairbrush, or paddle, would stil mean things were going in the right direction for Jem’s deluded brain. In actuality the muted rhythmic sounds were just the pitter patter of Jem’s feet dashing on a treadmill capable of supporting an Amazon in full sprint. “That’s right!” Nate cheered him on from the side. “Widen that stride. Make your gait as long as possible!” He clapped lightly in time with Jem’s increasingly ragged footsteps. “You’re doing great, sir!” Great is not how Jem would have described how he was feeling just then. Every muscle in his body was screaming at him. As for his gait, last night he’d imagined himself having a slightly more awkward, toddling gait. He’d even gone so far as to re-layer his briefs over each other again and went to sleep. He kept waking up out of some bizarre paranoia that he’d wet the bed, but otherwise it was decently comfortable, if a tad snug for his liking. He shouldn’t be doing this, Jem knew. He should have been holed up in his apartment, finishing another custom stuffie or clothing modification. One customer wanted this yellow ruffled onesie and equally frilly pink dress Frank N. Stined together into one outfit instead of layering them together. This membership was expensive, too. More than Jem could afford long term unless he was working full time to pay for it off. It gave him a chance, however, to be close to his Amazon himbo crush. It’s not that Jem wanted to be a baby again, per se, it’s that he wanted to be Nate’s baby. A strange and conflicted fantasy to be sure, and one he didn’t dare talk or type about over on MistuhGwiffin.web. The people there would not be sympathetic to this impulse. Best case scenario he’d be piled on with accusations of being mindfucked or some Amazon sock puppet account. Yesterday had been weight day, Nate declared. Every weight machine was powerful enough to lift Jem out of the recommended seating position or impossible to move, so Jem had been forced to work with every free weight light enough. Fortunately (fortunately?) Nate knew multiple exercises that could be used with the same spider-web covered dumbbells, left neglected because the usual gym rats skipped right over them for something more challenging. Today was all about cardio. “Get your heart buff and the rest will follow. Gotta get that blood pumping to the muscles so that they can grow!” So they’d done cardio. None of the exercise bikes were small enough so that Jem could reach the pedals, so Nate made do by putting Jem through lots of stretches and poses that tangled the Little’s body up in knots. According to Nate, stretching and poses could be good for cardio, too, because it forced the heart to pump blood to the specific muscles being stretched at any given time, increasing the heart rate. Jem had no idea if that was true or complete bullshit, and the not knowing- the feeling of learning and being guided by someone who knew more than him- gave Jem the best kind of tingles. Nate was still kind of socially awkward and had the vocabulary and speaking mannerisms of someone from a corny beachbum movie but he genuinely seemed to be passionate and know what he was talking about in this field. If only, Jem fantasized, one of these yoga positions involved him being on his back with his legs crossed and up over his head. No amount of stretching in the world could compete with good old fashioned running, though. So that’s how Jem was ending this session. Also agony. Jem was also ending this session in agony. “Come on! Just one more mile, Jem!” Nate cheered. “You can do it, bro!” Stop. Calling me. Bro. Little dude is okay. Jem is great. Baby boy. Is preferred. But not. Bro. Jem wanted to say all of this, but he was too busy panting to vocalize. Even his thoughts were panting, somehow. “PLease D-...Nate!” Jem forced himself to say. “I’m…at my limit.” “No way! You got this!” Nate positioned himself behind Jem, straddling the treadmill so that Jem couldn’t escape. This was not the sort of penned in that the Little boy found himself idly fantasizing about. “Just a little fur-!” Jem’s knees buckled and the conveyor belt rushed up to meet him. He thumped on the treadmill and the two massive steel pillars that most of the customers were able to grab onto for pacing sped away from him. His brain processed the fall and the oncoming impact far faster than his body would have been able to. It would take less than a second for his frame to be ragdolled all over the floor. At least the footed sleeper he’d stuffed himself into would prevent any kind of road rash outside of his face. Nate’s big strong arms snatched him up instantly. Jem didn’t have time to register the rapid blur of upward motion and being held to a certain hunk’s chest. “Whoah! Jem!” Nate yelped. “Are you okay?” Panting and more exhausted than terrified, Jem looked up into those dreamy blue eyes and resisted the urge to suck his thumb. That’d be too obvious. “Yeah,” he said when he found his voice. “Yeah. I am. You saved me. Thanks.” ”I am so sorry!” Nate gushed. “I shouldn’t have pushed you that hard. I should have listened to you. I am sooooo so sorry my guy!” He didn’t let go or put Jem back down. Jem was in Heaven, looking past Nate and seeing the ceiling tiles move. He was being more than held. He was being carried; cradled even. He’d done it. He’d accidentally done it! “No.” Jem said. “It’s fine. I…I think I kinda like it.” The biggest dopiest smile plastered itself on Jem’s mug. Nate grinned like a puppy dug that had just been scritched behind the ears. “Sounds like you got that runner’s high, my dude. Careful. It’s addictive” The Amazon had no idea how right he was about the wrong stimulus. His grin faded into a concerned frown. “Either that or it’s dehydration and heat exhaustion. I think we’re done for the day.” Gently, he propped Jem up on the service counter, keeping his wonderful hands on Jem’s chest and back until he was sure that the Little could sit under his own power. “Done?” Jem whined. “Done? But it feels like we just got started!” “Your limit is your limit, my guy.” Nate lectured. “We can move it and push it over time, but you gotta respect it in the here and now. Listen to your body.” Jem hadn’t heard the phrase ‘listen to your body’ since potty training. “I don’t know how.” Another gentle clap on the back. “You’ll learn.” Would he though? Would he? The acknowledgement of his competence was almost a slap in the face to Jem. “Here. Let me buy you a sports drink. Electrolytes and stuff. Lots of sugar too. You like sweet stuff right?” Jem was on the verge of crazy happy tears. Nate was buying something for him. Something yummy and sweet. “Yeah,” Jem said. “Sure.” Nate started to wander around to a glass doored refrigerator filled with protein shakes, bottled waters, and lemon-lime flavored sports drinks. Despite Amazons’ preference for bitter and spicy flavors being so prevalent as to be sociological if not biological fact, the bottles filled with sugar water were on the fridge’s top shelf far out of Little reach. “Deal.” An idea! “Wait!” Jem called out. Nate turned back around and faced his client. “I want to pick it out myself.” Nate was in the process of formulating a non-condescending variation of ‘but you’re too Little to reach’, and part of Jem just wished that he would. “Please,” Jem said. “I…I kinda need this after what just happened.” The truth, but also a lie of omission. Jem daren’t say why he needed it. Nate considered it for a moment and walked back up to the Little. “Okay. I get it.” Jem hoped but doubted it. “Deal.” He picked Jem up and planted the twenty-year old on his hip like he was twenty months instead and walked him over to the cooler. He slid open the glass door and then stepped back so that he could lift Jem by the waist and thrust him forward. Uppies! He was getting uppies! Uppies from Daddy! Jem’s mind was buzzing. He took his sweet time reaching out and lifting the massive bottle with both hands. The magic was over too soon. Jem was back to resting on the countertop, his feet dangling, but otherwise unsupported. Nate cracked open the bottle with a single twist and gave it back to the physically exhausted Little. “We should start weight training with those,” Nate joked. “Those things are massive on you!” An accurate statement. Jem had to use both hands to sip from the rim of the sports bottle and he’d have to be part anaconda to fit the entire rim in his mouth. “Yeah,” he said between sips. “Maybe we could do some Kung-Pow Kid stuff. Non-conventional training.” “Heh,” Nate chuckled. “Good one. Polish on. Polish off.” The impression was kind of racist, but it was almost impossible to quote that line without putting on a faux Yamatoan accent. Jem let it slide. He was enjoying it. “Real talk. Those might taste good to you, but you’re gonna want to pregame and follow up with good old fashioned water. No calories, and after a certain point the cost benefit of all those vitamins and nutrients stops evening out with the sugar. Unless you’re doing this kind of workout every day, you might as well be sipping on a soda.” If it got him this kind of attention, Jem just might find time to do it more often. But that was a different kind of cost benefit analysis. He realized he was falling in love with the way Nate talked about nutrition and exercise. “Kay.” Nate grimaced slightly. “Speaking of water, I gotta go let some out. Be right back. You keep cooling down and then we’ll review and strategize before you get back in clean clothes.” Nate power walked to the locker room and rest room. Jem’s heart sank a little bit watching the giant man go. Daddies didn’t leave their LIttle boys unattended. Some were so comfortable that they might take their baby boys to the potty with them so as to not be out of their sight. Most any other Little would be dreading the talk of clean clothes foreshadowing a nasty surprise, but Jem was oddly hoping for it, despite knowing that Nate was just referring to clothes Jem walked in with today. The big lug just wouldn’t take the bait. Jem had briefly hoped that saving him and toting him around like a toddler might have awakened something in Nate. All Amazons, men and women, were supposed to be kinda baby crazy, right? It was supposed to be practically an instinct that they never aged out of. That’s why so many Littles ended up treated like kids, right? He swallowed his bizarre desires and nursed on lemon-lime flavored sugar water. A big muscle bound Amazon in his forties strolled up to the counter. He stank of sweat and had a big fuck-off beard. He definitely hit the weights more than Nate, but didn’t seem to be into cardio from the looks of it. A steroid junkie, Jem thought. Much older too. His dark black hair was more dye than natural. From the way he was smiling, Jem imagined he’d be the type of creep that wanted to be a mall Santa so that squirming Littles would be placed on his knee. “Hey, Little guy,” the stranger said, his voice sounding like he smoked and his breath reeking of beef jerky. “Noticed you were having some trouble with the weights the other day, and that you wiped out on the treadmill just now. Those trainers can get expensive real quick. Maybe it’d be better if you found someone to spot you for free. Give you some tips. If you want…” “Back off, Randal” came a stern voice from behind the big man. Carmen, the gym owner, leered up behind him and gave the big Amazon a withering glare. It was a more feminine pink than yesterday’s sweatsuit, but she was still ready to work out (and throwdown?) at a moment’s notice. “Oh,” the massive muscle man said. “I’m sorry Miss Carmen. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just being friendly to the new kid is all.” “New kid?” Carmen said. “Excuse me?” “What? It’s just a figure of speech.” Carmen pointed right at Jem. “That customer belongs to Nathan. Until one of them says otherwise, he’s Nathan’s project. Got it?” The mountain-that-creeped was smart enough to slink away. “Got it.” Carmen paused long enough to give Jem a curt yet approving nod. Jem had the distinct idea that Carmen could see right through him. More depressingly, it seemed that the only person not getting the hints he was throwing out was Nate. Jem knew he’d need to up his game tomorrow. ******************************************************************* “You okay, bud?” Nate asked. “Yeah,” Jem said, glugging back the water. “You’re drinking a lot of water is all.” Nate looked genuinely worried. “Really taking yesterday’s advice to heart, yeah?” Jem finished glugging down the massive water bottle. His second in as many hours. “Yeah.” Nate had no idea how right he was. Jem hadn’t used the bathroom since he’d first gotten up this morning. His bladder was screaming at him in silent agony. This was on purpose. “You know there’s such a thing as too much water, right?” Nate asked. “You’ve been taking a big drink after every exercise today.” Jem exhaled, trying to maintain his composure. “Thanks. I’m trying.” No potty dance or hint. He needed to appear completely unaware of what he was about to do, like the Little baby he needed Nate to see him as. “Can I hit the weights next?” “I just can’t believe you’re not sloshing. Where do you put it all?” Jem bit into his lip and walked over to the mirrored wall with all the free weights. He’d be putting it all in his pants soon. Lacking a diaper, there’d be no hiding it, either. No excuses. The gym was pretty full too. Carmen was working the punching bag and most of the treadmills were occupied. No escaping it. Just getting what he wanted. What he needed. “Okay,” Nate said. “Let’s just start as light as we can. I don’t want to push you so hard that you puke, okay?” Jem stared at his reflection. Showing how weak he was hadn’t worked. Getting saved and carried around didn’t tempt him. This was the last straw; the final gambit. This would be the last time that he wouldn’t have an obviously padded bulge between his legs. Nate leaned over and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Okay, Jem?” Worth it. The warmth and strength Jem felt in his crush’s hand was enough to give him courage. He relaxed his bladder and felt the terrible violating feeling of urine splashing around in his pants and then dripping down his legs. For half a second, Jem worried that it would be too subtle, that the extra thickness of the pajama-like material would hide his purposeful accident. He needn’t have worried. A dark spot formed and spread right where his penis was and traveled down his thighs making a dark blue roadmap all the way into his ankles. The only downside was that the material wicked away just enough pee quickly enough so that it started pooling in his shoes instead of on the floor. He needn’t have worried, however. It was literally impossible for Nate to have missed it. Both sets of eyes widened in shock. Jem’s horrified expression was just a mask however, covering up his excited anticipation. “You’re cramping up!” Nate half-yelled. “Cramp! Cramp!” In another blur, Jem found himself lifted up pressed to Nate’s chest, snugly up against the Daddy of his dreams. Nate started carrying his new Little boy to the locker room. There, he knew, he’d be stripped, wiped, powdered, and diapered by a deliriously baby crazy Nate, and things would progress naturally from there. “Cramp! Cramp!” Jem opened his eyes. “Cramp?” Why was Nate saying Cramp? “Don’t worry Little dude,” Nate’s voice sounded off the locker room. It was almost like how they met. “I’ve got just the thing. Anybody here?!” He called. “Good.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Jem cried out in shock, if not pain. Freezing, ice cold water poured over Nate, soaking him from head to toe. “WHAT? AAAAAAAAAH!” “Cramp!” Nate yelled over Jem’s cries. “Just a cramp!” he pried Jem off of him and turned him to face the icy chilled stream. “This’ll get rid of it! No need to call an ambulance! It’s cool” The water switched off and Jem was placed sopping wet onto his feet. From the tip of his hoodie to the toes of his booties, all of the fabric was the same dark sodden dark blue. No trace of his accident remained. “Oh man!” Nate said. “That was close! Uh…I mean, I was worried for a second. I saw your legs spasming so I knew I had to ice you down.” Nate sounded like a bad soap opera actor. “Too bad we both got completely drenched.” He threw Jem a wink. “What?’ Jem whispered, completely baffled. Nate leaned in extra close, close enough for Jem to guess what brand of toothpaste he used. “Don’t worry. Nobody will know.” He lightly punched Jem in the shoulder. “I told you not to push yourself and drink that much water all at once,” Nate hissed. “Like, I get it. That could’ve happened to anybody. But you can’t risk that happening again. Anybody else here would have Adopted you right on the spot.”. All the muscles in Jem’s face ached. “Anybody else?” “:Literally anybody else.” That was the moment Jem felt his heart break. “Thanks,” Jem said, holding back sobs. “You’re a really good friend.” “Don’t mention it, LIttle dude.” Ten minutes later, Jem trudged out of the locker room wearing the clothes he’d come in with. Carmen stopped laying into the bag and looked particularly confused. Disturbed even. Jem paid her no mind. ************************************************************* “Alright,” Nate instructed. “We’re just gonna hang here in plank for a second. Then we’re gonna go down for a three count, hold for a three count, and push back up for a three count.” Jem nodded. “Uh-huh.” Beads of sweat were running down his face. They’d been at this for close to an hour. “Ready? One…two…three…and hold….one…two…three…back up…one…two…three…” They were doing slow push-ups, stretches, and other strength building exercises that even a Little could do in a land of giants. Nate was doing everything with Jem, and not even breaking a sweat. “Down again…one…two…three…and hold…one…two…three…aaaaand lower all the way down to your belly.” Jem had no idea why he was doing this anymore. He was torturing himself, physically and mentally, looking and wishing for himself. He didn’t want to be a baby, he wanted to be Nate’s. But literally anybody else would want him…anybody but Nate. He supposed he came back due to sunk cost fallacy and wanting to keep up appearances. He’d finish out the week, he’d decided, then maybe put in another week, and then fade away like most sporadic gym members. The only thing that would happen is his membership would be revoked. Being here also gave him an excuse to spend just a few more days with the Daddy that wasn’t meant to be. He’d get over it in time, but he was allowed to enjoy the fantasy for a few more days. Somehow it hurt less now that he knew his unexpected dream was off the table. “Inhale into cobra,” the pair arched their backs up from the mat. “Exhale into downward facing dog.” In unison they arched their backs and rocked themselves onto their hands and feet while sticking their tailbones into the air. “Aaaaand lower down to safety zone!” They collapsed into what most yoga practitioners would call ‘The Child’s Pose’. Nate had a different name for it, just in case anybody get the wrong idea about his Little friend. “Okay,” Jem said from the resting and recovery position. “I think that’s enough for me today.” Nate picked himself up. “I agree. You really worked hard today, my dude. Super focused.” Jem was still so tired that he hadn’t moved yet. “Yeah. I guess I am.” “You’re doing a good job. Listening to your body and paying attention to your limits. I’m proud of you.” Jem sighed. His heart fluttered but his face didn’t flush. What would have been the point? “Yeah. Awesome.” Nate offered his hand down. “Want help up?” Jem picked his head up and accepted the help. “Yeah.” It was a quick trip up to his feet. “Thanks, Daddy.” Nate looked horrified. “What did you say?” Jem frowned. “Thanks, Nate?” “No…” Nate said. “You didn’t.” The Little played back what he’d said in his head. The blood drained all the way down to the soles of his feet in pure unadulterated embarrassment. Jem dashed out of the building at a dead sprint. He didn’t even think about going back for his clothes or wallet or the key to his apartment. He was still in the blue teddy jammies that had been substituted as gym clothes. It was a miracle he made it back home. ********************************************************************************* Nate found Jem in the Laundry room later that day, with Jem leaned up against his favorite dryer. “Hey,” said. Jem closed his eyes and exhaled. “Hey.” “You left without your stuff.” “Yeah,” Jem said. “ I know.” He’d accidentally locked himself out of his apartment. Going to the manager’s office dressed like this was a surefire way to get snatched up by the landlord or the property manager. Jem wouldn’t have cared so much a couple days ago. The laundry room was the only safe place to hide. “I had a talk with my boss,” Nate said. “She thinks you’ve got Maturosis or something.” Jem waited for a question. “Is Maturosis real?” “No?” Jem said. “Yes? I don’t know!” He was so utterly humiliated having to talk about this that he was on the verge of turning into a sobbing mess. Knowing that no one would be there to comfort him was the only thing that was holding him together. “Right,” Nate replied as if Jem’s cracking voice and indecision were legitimate answers. “Do you wanna talk to me about it? I can make you a protein shake or something. I brought your stuff back to my place.” Jem blinked away the tears. Might as well get this over with. “Sure. Yeah.” They walked side by side to Nate’s apartment on the other end of the complex from Jem’s. Any lingering hopes that some crazy paternal instinct had been activated inside the dudebro were dashed when they walked in. “Sorry about the mess.” Jem had seen messier. His own apartment in fact. Yeah, there were dishes in the sink, and another laundry basket full of clothes on the couch, but other than that it wasn’t terrible. No baby powder scent. No highchair in the kitchen. Nothing resembling a playpen or parts of a crib that had yet to be assembled. Amazons were supposed to be really good at setting up that sort of thing…when they wanted to. Nate leaned up against his own beige couch, and pretended to be interested in the ceiling. “So…” “So…” Jem echoed. “Did I do this to you?” Yes! Yes, yes, yes! “What do you mean?” “Like…did I do something or say something that made you pee your pants yesterday?” His face scrunched up. “Or like, manipulate you into getting carried around?” How could this wonderful idiot not look in the mirror or hear the sound of his own gentle voice and not know? “Not technically, no.” “Technically? Jem shook his head and rattled his brains. “I mean ‘no’. Nevermind. What else?” “So you wanted to have an accident? And get picked up? And call me…y’know…Daddy? You did all that on purpose?” Could such things really be called acts of free will when the alternative seemed so much the worse? Did a man shooting himself in the foot really have the choice if it felt like there was another gun to his heart? “The Daddy thing was the only accident. Sorry.” “Why?” “Why?” Jem’s face contorted. “If I knew why, it wouldn’t be an accident.” A beat. “Sorry.” “No. Other ‘why’. Why did you do that stuff?” “Sorry,” Jem said again. “I wanted you to…” it was so much harder now that he was saying it out loud. “I wanted you to be my Daddy. Sorry.” “Why?” “You know how some Amazons look at a Little and just wanna…you know?” Nate stopped looking at the ceiling. “Cossetting, yeah.” Without realizing it, Jem had pulled his sleeves over his hands and was twisting them up. “I think I got like…the opposite…for you. Sorry.” The himbo looked confused. “That’s a thing?” “It is for me,” Jem whispered. “But only for you. Sorry.” Nate bobbed his head and moved his lips but no sound came out. He was clearly talking to himself. “Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?” Jem’s face scrunched up like a toddler. His throat closed up and the next words came out squeaky as the tears dripped down his face “Because you…don’t..want…!” “I kinda do, though.” The Little’s heart leapt up into his throat. “You what?” “Dude, I kinda wanted to take you home and rock you to sleep the second I saw you. I was just trying to respect you. You know, as a person, instead of a baby. Not that babies aren’t people, but…” The nature of the tears was turning from one emotion to another. “Yeah,” Jem sniffed. “I…I get it.” “Thing is,” Nate huffed. “If I Adopt you, I don’t know how I’m gonna afford you. Babies can get expensive. Like I bet I could get free daycare, but even diapers can get expensive.” “I could…” Jem ventured…”I could still make and sew baby clothes and stuff. None of my customers know I’m a Little.” He thought about it. “Knowing I’m a Little might help, actually.” Jem hung his head, bracing himself for the incoming rejection. It was a dumb idea, anyways. “Dude! That’s genius!” Jem met the Amazon man’s gaze. “Please don’t call me ‘Dude’.” The dudebro blushed. “Oh. Right. Bad nickname. Bud? Bud.” Bud? Yeah. Better. Jem gave a weak but approving smile. Nate walked around to his couch and sat down next to the laundry basket.. Unbidden Jem followed him around. He waited for Nate to pat his lap. He was relieved that he didn’t have to wait long. He climbed all the way up and sat himself on the big man’s knee, feeling strangely euphoric. “Tell you what, Bud,” Nate said. “Why don’t we try this out? I’ll take a week off from work. We’ll try it out. If we both like it. We’ll Adopt.” “We’ll…?” Jem looked into his maybe-Daddy’s beautiful blue eyes filled with questions. Nate hadn’t mentioned anyone else. Was he going to have to share? “Yeah,” Nate smiled. “You and me, Jem. You and me. We found each other. Baby boy and Daddy.” Jem lost it in the best way.“Oh Daddy!” he cried out, loving the sound of it coming from his lips. “Daddy, Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!” He cried and stood up on his Daddy’s lap, giving him the biggest hug, even though there was no way he’d be able to wrap his arms around the giant. That was Daddy’s job! He peppered Nate’s chest and neck and chin with tiny kisses, squeezing him so tight he’d sooner become a tattoo than let go. “Whoah! Bud!” Nate laughed. He threw in a few pecks on Jem’s forehead, anwyas. It was unsurprisingly easy for him to peel the manic Little off his chest. “Jem, what are you doing, baby?” Jem stood balanced on one giant knee. “Huh?” Was he already doing something wrong? “You can’t get that excited, Little boy.” Nate reached over into the laundry basket. From out of it he produced a package of Monkeez. It was a convenience pack, something sold at a convenience store, but it was a start. The Little on the front looked incredibly happy. Jem was about to top it. “Not without getting properly dressed.” ********************************************************************************************* “Good morning, Nathan,” Carmen said a week later. “Welcome back. How was your week off?” Nate stood in the doorway of her office. Her best personal trainer was combed and crisp and clean for work, and had an extra sparkle in his eye. The Little baby on his hip had darker hair and eyes, but there was a distinct matching twinkle. The teddy bear version of her sweat suit line she favored looked good on the forever child. It somehow looked more appropriate without the sneakers covering up the footie parts. A keen eye would reveal that more was different beyond a lack of pretense. Someone had altered the bottom half so that there were snaps along the inseam and up along the crotch, to give caregivers and daycare workers easier access to the Little’s diaper. This Little was diapered, too. Either that or he’d gained the lower equivalent of a beer belly. More interestingly, the zippered front had been redone in snaps, too. If they were Amazonian grade, the Little wouldn’t be strong enough to dress or undress himself without adult help. Most peculiar and fascinating of all, the faded black logo that said ‘Carmen’s Gym’ had been completely replaced with the bright yellow block font of her other business and now the outfit read ‘C.G. Daycare.’ Carmen decided right then that she liked it, and would figure out how to get more. She had an entire back room filled with those things in both pink and blue. The only reason she hadn’t decided to use them as uniforms was because the Little dickenses kept stripping down to their diapers. Nate grinned like the proud papa he’d become and looked over “Pretty good, boss. Pretty good.” “Good. Glad you don’t need paternity leave. Get that cutie checked in next door, and you can show me all the baby pictures you want later.” “Yes ma’am,” the Daddy and his new Little boy accidentally said in unison. They looked at each other and the Little giggled while his Daddy cooed at him. Their enthusiasm and love for each other made Carmen smile as she watched the adorable duo head next door, happy for the both of them. (The End)

In all the multiverse, throughout arcane academia, dragons are some of the most curious and contrarian of creatures. They are renowned for being fearsome, great wyrms, capable of great and terrible deeds of destruction. A dragon’s fiery breath can turn flesh to cinders and melt stone; its scales capable of shattering spears, arrows, and swords. Being made of magic themselves, even great wizards may find it difficult to harm a great winged reptile. They are covetous, spiteful, sinful creatures who hoard wealth and trinkets, pillaging kingdoms and stealing from royalty and the common folk alike, depriving all of valuable resources that might otherwise. And they never die of old age, only violence. Truly, in all the realms, there was never a greater threat to freedom, liberty, and prosperity, than the monsters whose silhouette blacks out the sky. There is truth in all of this, as countless historical records from across time and distance illustrate time and time again, but it is not wholly accurate. There are no deliberate lies or purposeful misinterpretations in these common and time tested assessments, but rather they are incomplete data due to humanity’s collective need to be the center of any moral universe. The truth about dragons is far more interesting and complicated. I have found in my research, experiments and interviews, that a human’s view of dragons is not unlike a fish’s view of a hand. They see something fleshy and grasping plunging down into the river, but their biological experience and mindset is not preprogrammed with the knowledge or understanding that something might be connected to that hand and exist wholly outside the river. Dragons are covetous hoarders, yes, but it is not greed that drives them in the way that human beings lust after material possessions and wealth. Rather, it is constant emotional and mental stimulation that they seek. They are collectors and completionists at heart. Once something takes a dragon’s fancy, they can become obsessed with it for years, decades, or even centuries at a time; with an almost compulsive desire to possess, collect, and know everything about a particular fascination that there is to possess, collect, or know. Neither do they exclusively hoard material wealth. Dragons will go through “phases” (if a decades-long obsession can be called a “phase”) where they become fascinated with all sorts of things. There are dragons who become librarians to uncountable tomes of knowledge, riddles, and jokes. Other wyrms get an itch for rare magical artifacts. Still more take to botany or animal husbandry, and create great gardens and menageries worthy of a sultan. There is at least one documented case of a dragon with a fondness for the collecting and manufacturing of rock candy. When a dragon sets its mind to collecting or learning about something, they cannot help but see it through to its most extreme logical conclusion. This certainly a curse for those who live among the winged lizards, but it can also be a blessing. Once a dragon has seen its obsession through to its logical conclusion, or rather to the point of boredom, it can become careless and carefree on that subject. It is rather easy to take a dragon’s treasure provided the dragon has no further interest in it and intruders are not inclined to violence against the dragon. There are accounts of a wyrm showing a kind of backhanded gratitude at lucky thieves wanting to take away things that no longer held interest to it. Savvy surrounding kingdoms can turn famines into feasts if the end of a dragon’s obsession period is fortuitous enough. That obsessive quality is also what rids kingdoms of dragons outside of violence. To the best of humanity’s collective knowledge, dragons do not die of old age. There are no piles of dragon bones that are not the result of violence of some sort. Instead, dragons just grow progressively stronger and more resilient over time. Yet dragons do not stay on this material plane forever. Eventually, dragons see all that they consider worth seeing, hoard all that they consider worth hoarding, and learn all that they consider worth learning, and just move on. They spread their leathery wings and leave the ground one last time as they shed the surly bonds of earth and take flight into the starry cosmos for a brand new adventure; where they go we know not where. Of particular scholarly debate is the “morality” of dragons. Of their intelligence, there is no dispute. A dragon’s intelligence is roughly on par with its human counterparts. A seventy-two year old dragon has all of the knowledge and wisdom as a seventy-two year old man. The same is true for a one-year old dragon, or a thirteen year old dragon. Yet it lacks the biological infirmities that plague us in our sunset years. Senility and dementia do not plague the wyrms the way it does the clever apes. The fact that dragons’ lifespans are much much longer than ours makes them more than intellectually formidable. But when it comes to morality, despite their intelligence, dragons are relegated to the classification of either evil monsters or savage beasts and nothing could be further from the truth. Dragons are both fiercely intelligent, and highly moral. They just don’t tend to recognize humans as people. On the subject of personhood, it has been gleaned, dragons are what most would consider selfish and self-centered. They do not tend to judge intelligence, language, art, or any of the trappings of civilization as personhood (And why would they? Save when rearing their hatchlings, dragons are notoriously solitary). Instead, they judge personhood based on how much they personally relate to any given individual or population. This is why kingdoms that are uncommunicative have the most violent and aggressive dragons to deal with. The bear cares not for the bees when it wants to eat honey. The villager reviles the rats that nest in their house. It is most fortunate then, that dragons rarely classify other beings according to their outward physical characteristics, but upon a sometimes random and mercurial set of behavioral attributes. A wyrm’s imagination is a powerful thing, indeed, and it is as like to imprint upon both curious collector as well as a warrior king. Like recognizes like, though due to its own egocentric nature a dragon is most likely to spare a human for being a ‘tiny scaleless dragon’ than for being anything resembling an equal. -An excerpt from “A Traveler’s Guide to Devils, Dragons, and Demi-Gods, Author Unknown” His name was not “Abe”. Dragon names cannot be pronounced by pests or understood in ways that made sense to their pest brains. A dragon’s name is a description about everything that has happened to the dragon and their relationship to the world around them, and it is said all at once with voice, volume, eyes, body language, odor, and breath. But for the sake of brevity, let’s call him Abe. Abe slept atop his one remaining pile of gold deep in the center of his lair. The mountain didn’t start as a hollowed out system of interconnected tunnels. Only through much careful digging and melting of once solid rock was he able to make something so livable and comfortable. Not content to remain in an already established cave as he did when he was a centenarian, he got the idea when a nasty little pest intruded in on him. After the nasty little zapper was killed, Abe found several tiny books on a multitude of subjects, the most interesting among them was architecture. The dragon spent the next several years reading up on the subject as well as geology until he had a near perfect theoretical knowledge on the subject. It took him less than a year afterwards to craft his new home from scratch as it were. Naturally, once it was complete he needed to fill it with things. A home without form or function was just a series of empty rooms. There needed to be a gaming and trophy room, a dining room, a kitchen, a bedroom, a living room, a room for entertaining company and so forth. At one point during the lair’s construction, Abe put in a nursery; not because he intended to raise a clutch of eggs, but because that’s what was done when building a house. Several fascinating books said so and those books in turn led Abe to discover even more books dedicated to the specifics on making the best type of a particular room: The best living room, the best kitchen, the best nursery, and so on. It had been wholly satisfying learning so many intricate and interesting details, which had in turn taught him how to work with wood and stone masonry. Abe couldn’t decide if a mountain lair should have a basement or an attic (neither to be confused with a wine cellar) so he installed both and used them to store the brick-a-brack that he had grown bored with but was yet reluctant to toss away. One never knew when something might come in handy, or when sentiment and nostalgia would flare up again. Annoyingly, after enough time, pests spread into the surrounding hills, and they inevitably tried to infest Abe’s lair. That had necessitated Abe learn the delicate and time honored tradition of trap making; and for that bit of amusement, Abe was passably grateful. The lava pits doubled as heating and it gave him the inspiration to redirect aquifers to make his own bathing chamber. Eventually, the pests must have discovered that he wasn’t particularly interested in what he stored in the attic and basement and so swarmed up there from time to time. It was for the best, he decided. One only needed so much gold to sleep on and so many jewels to scrape one’s fangs. Anything else was showing off and the pests seemed to like the useless shiny things. Presently, Abe tossed and turned in his sleep, unable to get comfortable on his bed of gold and silk. He wasn’t sleepy, yet he didn’t want to open his eyes. Opening his eyes would mean that the day had started and then he’d have to find something to do to occupy his time. That was just depressing. The only thing worse than constantly napping and sleeping due to boredom, was the restlessness that followed upon waking. In the back of his mind, Abe knew it might be time to move on and explore as his mother had before him, but he’d yet to come to that acceptance. Nothing excited him when he looked up at the grand cosmos, yet he felt nothing when he considered more earthly pursuits. It was like looking at the menu and realizing one wasn’t hungry; old boring favorites still held more allure than risky foreign cuisine. Abe did not know it, but he was the oldest dragon that had yet to move on, and as the oldest he was very likely the strongest. Strength did not matter overmuch after a certain point, but it made pests more ambitious and fearful by different turns. Sometimes, the pests still provided amusement, however fleeting. Concerning pests, a grating, moaning, jabbering sound caused Abe to stir from his non-slumber. From his sleeping pile, he opened his eyes and spied a shambling, moaning, mass of metal carapace. A pest. One of the ones that donned false scales and carried false claws that were too big to fit in their tiny paws so they had to be carried. They were more common, and less annoying than the fuzzy zappers who shrieked and conjured up a poor facsimile of a dragon’s proper blazing breath. So that’s what the noise he’d heard coming from from above, closer to the attic, had been. Another infestation of pests rummaging and stumbling around the attic. Stupid, silly, short lived things. One had made it past his pest traps and was likely here for the gold he wasn’t done sleeping on. Rising to his full height, Abe looked down at the tiny thing and scowled. “Pest,” he said, more to himself. The pest froze, shuddered in its spot, said something in what passed for language-Abe couldn’t tell what it said-and fell down dead. Abe huffed in annoyance. “Damnable pest,” he said. “Made it all the way to his bedroom just so it could start rotting in the very center of his home. Now he’d have to get up and toss it outside. It was a big one too, a two hander for sure. The idea of having to touch the dead thing with his hands made his breathing go shallow. Gross. Very gross. Maybe he could just cremate it; melt the carapace into the floor and scatter the ashes…but then he might accidentally breathe in pest ashes. “Ew…” Another pathetic moan interrupted the dragon’s pontifications. The pest was still alive? Curiouser and curiouser, Abe circled around the busted and cracking metal carapace. He’d never heard a pest make that sound before. Come to think of it, he wasn’t used to hearing the pests make those kinds of sounds at all. Normally, they were loud and guttural, shouting what passed for death threats and cries for courage in their limited languages that used only voice. This sound? It was different. And familiar. Vaguely familiar from a time long ago that Abe barely remembered himself. Fortunately, dragon memories are second to none, and he did remember. With one single claw, he gently poked and prodded at the carapace. C-RRRRRACK! Abe’s serpentine head snapped back in surprise. “What’s happening?” In reply, he only got more mumbling and mewling. Mewling? Yes, ‘mewling’ sounded about right as far as descriptors went. Weak and pathetic, but not something that elicited disgust. The pest inside lightly wriggled and its shell continued to split open. Split open? Crack? Like an egg! Yes! This was not a carapace or a bit of false skin. Yes, it had those things in common but in the big scheme of things everything could be like something else. What this was most like, Abe was concluding, was an egg. He’d read about this sort of thing before; had seen it in birds, and sort of remembered it in the nest when the last of his siblings had hatched. “You’re not stealing…you’re…hatching?” The thing inside the egg, for it was indeed an egg in Abe’s view, made more sounds which the great wyrm took as a kind of involuntary confirmation. “Yes. Hatching. And…you need help?” Considering the thing inside the egg hadn’t been born yet, Abe didn’t expect a coherent response and was not disappointed when he didn’t comprehend the reply. What Abe could never appreciate is that human languages, especially the spoken ones, advanced much more quickly than draconic. What was in fashion a mere five hundred years ago and perfectly serviceable quickly became ‘olde’ to the point of extinction as it mutated generation after generation. Not understanding a word coming from the inside the egg (and once again, why would he?) Abe did the only thing he considered conscionable. He helped the little thing hatch, gently prying the egg open, chipping away at it with his claws so that the wet and slimy thing on the inside could be free and come into the world. Carefully, the dragon took the top part of the shell of last so that finally air would come into the little thing’s lungs. Abe felt himself analyzing it. It looked familiar. Vaguely familiar. He’d seen a few illustrations of such a creature, so pink, and lacking any kind of scales. Helpless. Cute. It had more hair than the illustrations had led him to believe was normal, but such illustrations were often wrong. According to many of his books, for example all the measurements on every piece of furniture that he crafted were completely off and had to be scaled up to appropriate size so that a proper dragon could make use of them. Who made furniture that tiny? So it was easy to believe that something that just hatched wouldn’t look quite like the illustrations he’d seen. It certainly SMELLED like what he imagined a hatchling would smell like. A single word spilled out of the adorably vulnerable creatures lips. Not even a word, but a bit of babbling like an infant that hadn’t yet learned to talk. “Dada”. That was when the real magic happened in Abe’s brain: The magic of empathy and imagination fueled by fascination and complete certainty that his way was the right way. This wasn’t a pest, Abe realized. He’d read about this! He vaguely remembered being one himself! This! Was! A! “BABY!” At the sound of its name, the baby opened its mouth and gave one giant bawling yelp of affirmation. Then, just like the books had said, the poor little tyke passed out and emptied its bladder right there in the dragon’s arms. “D’AWWWW!” That settled matters in Abe’s mind. This was a baby. It might not be exactly like a dragon hatchling, but it had enough in common from everything he remembered about his own childhood and everything he’d read that it was dragon enough. He too had once been weak and helpless, but proper nourishment and loving care had enabled him to grow mighty and strong. The baby even knew its name! How cute! Just as importantly, more importantly, in fact, Abe now had a reason to use that nursery he’d created. This? This would not be boring! Wings tucked, he gently carried the sleeping babe in his arms through twisting labyrinthine tunnels that he hadn’t been through in decades. Along the way, for many babies were scared of the dark until their night vision developed, he lit torches. They had been purely ceremonial until now and it gave Abe a sense of satisfaction to use them. “Here we are,” Abe cooed, even though he knew the baby was unconscious. It’s not that he expected a proper conversation, the thing had just been born. The great dragon just knew how important it was to introduce them to language early. How else would they learn to talk? For the time being, more pressing matters were brought to the dragon’s attention, such as hygiene. With much doting excitement, Abe laid the baby on the changing table he’d crafted. Like all things Abe dedicated himself to, it was perfect and held the tiny thing well with raised sides that couldn’t be easily rolled over when the little tyke got squirmy. He looked down and examined between the sleeping babe’s legs. Its diaper was sorely lacking; nothing more than a thin membrane of cloth that was drenched and reeked of ammonia. To call it “leaky” would be like calling a “sieve” leaky; implying at least partial effectiveness. He doubted this would contain even a solid bowel movement. Whomever had diapered the baby in its egg had done a poor job. Something about that sentence felt off, but Abe had never felt a great need to investigate childbirth or medicine before that, and so he dismissed it out of hand. The facts, he reasoned, were right under his nose and as indisputable as they were adorable. Even though he had never worn diapers himself, he’d read enough and seen enough of the lesser races- pests, giant pests, tiny green pests- to get the general idea. “Hmmm,” he grumbled to himself. “No pins? No knots either?” How was he supposed to get this off and on? Practicality and impatience took over. Abe reached down and tore the used diaper apart at the sides, ruining it beyond even the mere illusion of functionality. “It’s not as if I was going to use this one again,” Abe said to himself. Then he remembered the baby. “No I wasn’t!” he cooed. “No I wasn’t! Daddy wasn’t going to use this old diaper ever again. It’s much too thin and flimsy for my special…” he glanced down between the child’s legs, “...boy! My special boy!” A quick gout of flame caused the useless diaper to burst into flames and sprinkle down to the cave floor as ash. Taking a washcloth (that unknown to Abe had long ago been a noble family’s proud coat of arms) the dragon daddy dunked the cloth into a water basin and gently dabbed and wiped at his new baby’s tender nether regions. Technically, Abe reminded himself, all areas of a baby were tender, especially one born without scales. That only added the amount of care he took in wiping the child clean. “My little man isn’t going to get a rash. Not on Daddy’s watch!” To think him a Daddy: the very thought was absurd in the most delightful way. The baby started to stir and babble something to himself. Abe made a note to himself to warm the wash water next time. No doubt it was the coldness that woke the baby up. “It’s okay,” he shushed the boy. “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s just making you nice and comfy.” He crossed the child’s ankles and housed them up with one claw. With the other, he slid a fresh (and properly thick) diaper beneath the child’s rather skinny rump. “Babies aren’t supposed to be this thin,” Abe said. “Daddy’s gonna have to fatten you up. Yes he is! Yes he is!” While he cooed and played with the baby, he grabbed a vial of sweet smelling powder and dusted it in on the child’s backside and groin in order to prevent chafing and protect against rash. Carefully, he reached into a basket by the foot of the changing table and removed several safety pins that he had scavenged when he had built this model nursery. They were tiny, only five inches or so, but then again so was the baby. He put the pins in his mouth, while he finished what would no doubt be the first of many changes. The baby’s eyes softly fluttered open from dreamland just as Abe was pulling the fresh diaper up between the baby’s legs, forcing them apart. Newborn hatchlings couldn’t walk, so it hardly mattered if it threw off a hypothetical gait. The child let out a groaning burble as his eyes started coming into focus. It sounded fearful. Abe quickly and carefully fastened the ends of the diaper snugly together, pinning them in place so that the soft absorbent material was snug. Being in a fresh diaper did nothing to ease the child’s screams. “This won’t do,” Abe cooed in draconic. He wanted the baby to associate diaper changes and being taken care of with happy times. “This won’t do at all.” He attempted to make funny faces at the child but the screaming and tears only got worse. The child somehow managed to roll over and start crawling away from him towards the edge of the changing table. “Oh oh oh, careful, baby.” Abe gently cooed. “You’re very, very, tiny still. That’s a long way down at your age.” The dragon tried to remember how the world must have looked when he was all of five foot ten. Tenderly, the great wyrm scooped the child up and rocked him gently, hoping to give the tender fleshed baby comfort. “Shhhh…shhhh….” he said. “Shhh….shhh….” This only made things worse and the little tyke in his arms bawled louder. Abe tried pacing the nursery, and bouncing the child slightly, but that had not had the desired effect. Abe tried singing a hatchling’s song that he still remembered, but the child was obviously not a fan. When the little rugrat wasn’t trying to fall out of the dragon’s arms, he was screaming and covering his face as though certain doom was about to befall him. “I just changed you,” Abe said more to himself than the child. He started ticking off what he could remember about basic childcare on his claws. “I rocked you. I sang you a lullaby. What could the matter be, little one?” His reptilian eyes looked at the boy’s thin stomach, and saw the peculiar hole in the middle of it, just above the diaper. He didn’t know what that was about, at least the baby didn’t seem to be in pain, but it did cause the dragon to smack his head in recognition. “Of course!” he chided himself. “I haven’t fed you! You’ve just been hatched and I haven’t fed you!” Abe took to three legs and started thundering out of the nursery, carrying the child. He hadn’t done any kind of research on what babies ate. He recalled, however, that some drank from something called breasts, while others drank from bottles. Breasts, Abe did not have. But he had many bottles in great supply. “Dadaaaaaaa!” The baby screamed. “Dada dada dada dada!” “Just a second,” Abe hushed, while maneuvering the precise network of tunnels to just the right spot in his lair. Lesser, non-dragon-like creatures would get lost or fall into any number of traps. But not Abe. And in time, his new baby would come to memorize it too. That was a matter for later, however, and there was no sense in worrying about the future when the present was at stake. “I know you’re hungry,” he said. “Dada is getting you a bottle right now. Would you like that? Would you? I bet you would! I bet you would!” Just calling himself “Dada” had an effect on Abe. He felt more than amused. He was excited. Tickled! Thrilled! He was quite sure that he’d never felt this way before. Over five hundred years and he was beginning to feel a new emotion. How exhilarating. His attempts at baby talk to soothe the baby were met with more wailing. “DADAAAAAAAA!” Some things, Abe chuckled to himself, couldn’t be remedied with simple verbal affection. Fortunately, Abe was fleet of foot, almost as fast on land as he was in the sky, and had tread this path many times in the past. Some might say too many times. Abe lit the torches in this new room with quick tiny gouts of flame from his nostrils, one at a time, so the poor little half blind baby wouldn’t be afraid. After the third or fourth puff, he gave up. The baby didn’t need to see, he just needed to be fed! The gargantuan dragon tiptoed around the racks of bottles he had amassed and collected over the years. From them he took a small green bottle with a cork in it. “Ah!” Abe remarked. “This should work!” Dexterously, he uncorked the bottle and slid it up to the infant’s lips. “Here you go, little one. Drink up. It’s juice! Nummy nummy juice!” “Dada! Dada!” The new father chuckled good naturedly, but still worried. What would he do if he couldn’t get this poor little thing to eat? “Yes, my sweet baby boy,” he cooed. “I’m Dada. Now drink. Drink it up.” He used just a tiny amount of force and pressed the mouth of the bottle to the baby’s lips. The poor pathetic hatchling tried to scream “Dada” again, but once the bottle’s contents sloshed into the baby’s mouth, a very different, very surprised look came over him. For the first time, beautiful brown eyes gazed up in recognition of the dragon. “Tastes good?” Abe asked. As if in reply, the baby put his mouth on the bottle and took another sip. He licked his lips and smacked them, the way Abe often did when something unexpected yet delicious found its way onto his palette. Like father, like son. The baby took the bottle with both tiny hands and started gulping down the contents. Abe sighed in relief. Everything was going to be okay. The baby would drink. “That’s right,” the father lizard coaxed. “Drink it up. That’s a good boy. Good baby.” The more of the juice he gulped from the green glass bottle, the more content the infant seemed to be. The baby’s muscles started to untense. His eyes, once so fearful and wary, now seemed to glaze over with content. Dragons, being natural hoarders, and long lived besides, Abe went through a phase when he collected and stored every fine spirit he could find. He read many sources that indicated that the drinking of such things could cause great pleasure. Abe experimented with it for some time, but ultimately decided against it. The juice was tasty enough, to be certain, but the sample sizes were much too small to be of much pleasure. The quantities were all far too small, and the potency of the stuff much too weak to affect him. The only reason Abe had finished stuffing racks and racks and racks with the stuff was because once he started something, it wasn’t in his nature to stop. The grape juice sated the infant cradled in his arms, however. Abe was suddenly very glad he had finished this side project so long ago. If he hadn’t, he might not have had anything to give his new baby to drink. That certainly wouldn’t have made him a good father. Lazily the baby lulled his head and removed the bottle from his lips, eliciting a loud belch accompanied by happy, contented babbling. Abe took the bottle from him and swished it around. “Still half left.” He considered giving the baby the rest of it, but the child seemed content as he was. Babies could be trusted to know when they were hungry or not. They just couldn’t be trusted to hold their bladders. “We’ll finish this later,” he promised, recorking the bottle and sliding it back into the rack where he found it. “You did a good job!” He told his baby. “Such a good little drinker!” “Hyuk!” The baby let out a jolting half-gasping sound. “Hyuk!” Abe began walking upright again, repositioning the newborn over his shoulder. “Windy pops, eh?” he said good naturedly. “Can’t have that. Those can get mighty uncomfortable, I hear.” Walking slowly back through the turning and twisting tunnels, Abe patted the child gently but firmly on the back. First he’d pat the back with the flat of his palm, gently thudding the boy. Then he’d rub the back in tight and tiny circles, massaging him. “Urp!” Came the reply. “Good baby,” Abe said, and kept going. “Urp!” Good baby!” He gave the child’s bottom a gentle, soothing pat, too. “Keep going. Keep trying.” “Urp!” The dragon waited for his adopted child to burp again, but no belches came. No hiccups did either. The great old wyrm huffed to himself with contentment and satisfaction. This wasn’t so hard, yet it felt highly rewarding. On his way back to the nursery, Abe stopped by his kitchen, removing from his meat locker it a shank of salted mammoth. Parenting was hard work and he could use a light snack. “Off to bed with you, child,” he told his new charge when they re-entered the nursery, “and then your Dada will have some num-nums of his own.” He roasted a shank of meat with his breath and took a bite. The baby began sniffling, again. Abe braced himself for another bout of wailing cries. Clearly, he’d spoken too soon. No cries came. “Dada?” Abe looked to the child. He was staring at the meat, his little pink tongue licking his lips, a healthy sheen of drool forming. His tiny hands stretched out, trying to reach across his daddy’s scaly chest to get at the meat. “Oh no no no,” Abe said, holding the meat away from his precious bundle of joy “This isn’t for…” He stopped himself. He recognized the look of longing on the little boy’s face. A growl of hunger rumbled in the boy’s stomach. He’d just had some juice. Maybe juice wasn’t enough. Thinking back on it, Abe’s mother had told him that she’d fed him his first bit of meat when he was less than a day old. Why shouldn’t it be the same for his baby. Plus, it would give him a chance to try the highchair. “I better not be spoiling you,” Abe said. Both he and the baby knew that he’d given in. Abe lowered the child into the highchair. The baby looked around, more amazed and amused than afraid and confused. A fresh diaper with some grape juice and the child was already becoming more and more dragon-like. His face had gone so far as to take on an attractive reddish hue. Just like his Daddy. If any doubt lingered that Abe was keeping this baby for his own, that stray thought sent it up in a puff of smoke. He put a bit of charred meat on his claw. Playfully, he waggled it around, inching closer and closer to the child. “Heeeeere coooomes the man-ti-cooooore!” Delightedly, the child laughed and clapped his hands. “Hee-hee-hee-heee-heee!” Some things were universal. “Heeeere coooomes the man-ti-coooore!” “Hee-heee-hee-hee-heee!” Abe plopped the bit of meat into the child’s lips just as the laughter was dying down. Just as with the juice, the baby’s eyes lit up in delight and surprise. His mouth closed on the mammoth steak and he started chewing. “MMMMMMM!” Oh to be young again, and be able to experience everything for the first time. The tastes! The sounds! The smells! The simple pleasures of chewing on meat! Though in a way, Abe supposed, he could. He could rediscover his love for those things vicariously through his child. “Ah!” The baby said. “Ah! Ah!” “Hungry little thing, aren’t you?” “Ah! Ah!” Abe gladly obliged. “Heeeere cooooomes the man-ti-cooooore!” The baby snapped up the bit with gusto, chewing happily with his mouth open and giggling and giggling. Half a dozen tiny pieces later, and the baby’s head was finally starting to droop. “I think that’s enough, little one,” the daddy dragon said. “Dada,” the baby yawned, stretching his arms out and leaning back in his highchair. Abe quickly devoured the rest of his snack. The baby’s stomach was so small that there was more than enough left for him. It was such a small thing to share the meal. Small, yet infinitely gratifying; just like the baby himself. Another yawn, and the daddy dragon lifted his tiny adopted hatchling out of the highchair while his arms were still up stretched towards the ceiling. His soft and tender form draped itself over his Daddy’s shoulder. “Poor little guy,” Abe whispered.”Someone’s had a very busy first day.” There was no question about that. Abe carted the child over to his crib, humming that same dragon lullaby to himself. With a full belly and a clean diaper, his baby didn’t seem to mind it this time. A quick inspection and Abe corrected himself. The condition of the diaper wasn’t a factor at all. “Wet,” Abe noticed. He glanced back over at the changing table and then down into the nice soft crib. “But not too wet.” Changing could wait. He also didn’t want his baby crying everytime he had a wet diaper. Laundry would now be on the chore list for the foreseeable future, and he didn’t want to make more work for himself than was necessary. Also, he didn’t want his adopted child to panic or worry every time he woke up wet, as it was perfectly natural for a baby. Best to get him used to sleeping wet, too. Slowly and softly, he lowered his new, most treasured thing into the world and pecked him on top of the forehead. “Goodnight my little prince,” he said, before blowing out the torchlight in the nursery. In loving reply. He heard a happy sounding babble and then, “Dada.” ************************************************************************************************* Sir Albrecht laid behind the massive wooden bars of what he supposed was a crib. His belly full of wine and roast meat, it was getting harder and harder to keep awake. The half a bottle he’d chugged had lowered his inhibitions and loosened his bladder to the point where he’d wet himself yet again but didn’t mind so much. The diaper held it nicely. “I could get used to this,” he mumbled drunkenly to himself. “Real used to...” he started drifting off and belched himself awake. In Albrecht’s homeland, there were only two ways that a knight could fall into disgrace: Being caught with a dead girl in your bed or a live boy. The latter had happened to him, and thus he’d been sent on this suicidal penance quest. “Some penance,” Albrecht licked his lips. “A hot meal. A soft bed.” He wriggled his bum beneath the sheets, “and a thick diaper. That’s plenty good. Plennnnn-ty good.” He inhaled deeply, enjoying the odd mixture of smells; the wine still on his breath and the powder still coating his bum. “Plenty good indeed.” They didn’t have dragons where Albrecht came from. So he didn’t know how dastardly clever they could be with their tricks and traps and winding tunnels that you could get lost in and starve to death. It’s a wonder he made it as far as he did before his cheap armor finally cracked around him. He also didn’t know how intelligent, or frankly insane, the great beasts could be. Never in a billion years would the knight have guessed this is how his quest would end. And it had ended. For some reason, this big lizard thought he was a baby of some sort, and Albrecht was in no hurry to disabuse him of that notion. As soon as his brains stopped rattling around in his skull and he realized the dragon wasn’t going to roast him or impale him, Albrecht started playing the part. The strength of the alcohol in his blood helped too. The biggest problem with childhood, by his reasoning, was that you were too young to really appreciate it. Love, food, and someone big and strong to play with you and protect you? Yeah. That was nice. Very nice. “Let’s just see how this plays out,” he yawned. The babified knight finally let his eyes close, and he drifted off into a drunken slumber; knowing but not caring that he’d probably be more soaked and in need of changing when he woke up. That was the dragon’s problem, and the crazy thing absolutely swooned whenever he called it by name. What neither Albrecht, nor Abe knew, was that in Albrecht’s native tongue the word for “Dragon” sounded suspiciously like the sound that a young hatchling would make when calling out to its father, or “Dada”. The End.

The day after Valentine’s day. The weather was still chilly. Not cold, but just chilly. “Brisk” might have been a better word for it. Chilly enough that short sleeved t-shirts might seem underdressed, but warm enough where sweaters were being eschewed, mittens were out of the question, and people were going out and about in the park despite the occasional blustery wind. In other words, an average Floridian “winter”. “You don’t understand,” Aaron insisted. “I missed our date for a very important reason. I met Cupid! The real Cupid!” His girlfriend said nothing. The godling had said that would happen. “Don’t worry,” Cupid had told him. “I got your back. Lots of guys fuck up this day. It’s what I’m here for.” He’d handed Aaron a candy heart, the pink dry little edible chalk that no one ACTUALLY liked to eat for Valentine’s day. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Aaron had asked. The slim baby faced god winked at him. “Just pop it into your mouth and start talking to her. Everything else will take care of itself.” “Will it keep her from dumping me?” “Better,” he’d promised. “She won’t be able to keep her hands off you.” It was weird. Aaron had always thought that the god normally depicted as a flying baby would look more like...well...a baby. This guy was young looking, but other than that, he seemed to be about Aaron’s age. Yet somehow, as sure as Aaron had been dialing his girlfriend to apologize for the fiftieth time, he knew that this was no ordinary stranger. The fact that time had stopped for the entirety of their conversation had helped...a lot. “Yeah?” Aaron asked. He was in the presence of a love god. A literal love god. “You’re dick will be getting wet every day for years!” Cupid promised. “Thanks!” Aaron said. “Oh,” the suspiciously adult god said. “And I prefer Eros, by the way. Make sure to call me Eros when you tell her this story.” The light red hoodie from yesterday kept Aaron plenty warm. He’d refused to change his clothes from last night. In truth, he was terrified that if he went to sleep he might wake up and this would all be just a dream. Then not only would his girlfriend be rightfully justified in being super pissed at him; but he’d be a complete and total jackass who probably just got high or something. His girlfriend dressed in a pink long sleeved blouse and blue jeans. It was a wonder she hadn’t dumped him for missing their date. Who the fuck missed Valentine’s Day? She very well could just be waiting for him to shut up long enough to break up with him. But Eros promised that if he just explained it to her, everything would be fine. Who was Aaron to argue with a god? “What do you think about that?” Aaron asked, after having told his girlfriend the whole tale. (Okay not the whole tale. He might have left out some of the promises) “Crazy right? But yup. I met Cupid. On Valentine’s Day.” He pouted his lip out. “Eros, technically…” he corrected himself, “but I like Cupid, better. So I’mma call him Cupid.” He popped the candy heart into his mouth and bit down. Magic managed. Forgiveness and sexy times in...3...2...1...swallow. Yet, his girlfriend didn’t respond. He thought he’d at least get a giggle or a guffaw. Maybe a slap to the face for lying or something. Aaron didn’t blame her for not believing him. He wouldn’t have believed it himself if he hadn’t lived it. “Babe?” Nothing. She wasn’t even blinking. Not breathing, either. But she wasn’t suffocating. No one was. Just like yesterday, the breeze didn’t blow, and only the only movement came from his awkward shifting. Likewise, the only sound came from a subtle crinkling and rustling from his pants every time he moved. “Oh shit!” Aaron said to himself. “God powers must be kicking in or something.” Weird though. Cupid hadn’t mentioned about time stopping again. How was she supposed to forgive him if she was frozen and zonked out? He did a full walk around her, hearing his footsteps and crinkling, but nothing else. Crinkle? Rustle? In his pants? Never mind that. Something was wrong with her. “Babe?” He asked again, and waved his hand in front of her face. “What’s wrong? Can you hear me? Baby? Hon? Sweetie? Mommy…?” A burst of liquid heat erupted from below his beltline. Hot and pooling all around his privates. It had been some time since something like this had happened to him, but he recognized the sensation easily enough. Some things people never forgot. “I’m peeing,” the young man gasped. “I’m peeing my pants…” For some reason this was harder for Aaron to absorb than the idea that the supernatural existed. Speaking of ‘absorb’, no puddle of urine formed at the man-boy’s feet. No dark spot along his zipper or shame dripping down his thighs. The warm wetness just splashed up against him, and puddled around his taint before not quite disappearing. His underwear sagged and swelled, but it did not drip or fall off. To an outside viewer the reason might be obvious, but Aaron’s panicking mind refused to connect the dots. His grey matter had more pressing concerns. Fidgeting fingers fumbled for a zipper. Better to piss in the open air than in one’s pants. (What would it hurt if time was stopped?) The zipper to his jeans was gone. So were the souls of his shoes. So were his socks. The entire lower half of his wardrobe had melted like a wax candle into one garment. His top half was getting in on the act a second later; tucking itself in and then blending in seamlessly. The red of the hoodie and the blue of the jeans mixed and swirled around until Aaron was covered from head to toe in an infantile purple. The hoodie portion drew itself up and pulled taut around Aaron’s head. Reaching up, Aaron tried to yank the hood back down, but it was stuck. Trying for the back of his head only revealed that the top of his hoodie had sprouted round little stuffy ears. He must’ve looked like a teddy bear; or a child dressed as one. To finish the outfit, a pacifier popped out of thin air and attached itself to what used to be Aaron’s collar. Itching, like a thousand fire ants biting him at once, overwhelmed Aaron. What was happening? Was he dying? Going insane? Aaron fell to his knees clawing and scratching at the now soft and pajama-like material. He rolled on the ground like a dog, internally begging for the itching to subside. Finally, it did, and when he brought his hands to his face, he felt smooth. Baby smooth. Not a single trace of stubble even though he hadn’t shaved in over a day. When time started back up, Aaron was crawling on the sidewalk, and the majority of his body encased in a macro version of a footed sleeper: The kind of thing people wore in in private; or the kind of things babies were dressed in for public on particularly chilly (but not cold) days. “Aaron?” his girlfriend asked him. “What are you doing down there, baby?” “Mommy!” he shrieked. He tried to stand up, but could only push himself up to his knees. “This isn’t what it looks like! I don’t even know what it looks like.” Begging as he was, he looked like a toddler asking for uppies. His words fell on mistranslating ears. “Awww, come here sweetie. Come to Mommy.” “Wait!” Aaron yelped. “How are you picking me up? Why am I calling you Mom-?” The man-child let out an “eek”, as Mommy started to squeeze his crotch. He should have gotten hard. He should have flinched at just how tight her grip was. But he was too confused to be aroused, and there was some kind of barrier, some thick material giving more cushion than normal, so he didn’t feel her probing as intensely. “Uh oh,” she said. “Someone had an accident!” She giggled and started walking. “Though at your age, I guess it doesn’t really count as an accident, does it?” “Mommy? Where are you going?! Where are we going!” “Uh-huh.” She said in that way that adults used to encourage a baby to babble on, even if they couldn’t understand them. She couldn’t understand him! His own Mommy...girlfriend...couldn’t tell what he was saying. “You don’t say?” He really hadn’t. “Mommy! It’s magic! I’m not a baby! This wasn’t supposed to happen! You were supposed to forgive me and fall in love with me. Not-!” Aaron cut himself off when he saw where she was taking him. He’d never been in the women’s public restroom before, and his eyes wouldn’t focus on the writing long enough to read the letters, but she recognized the human outline with the skirt. “I don’t have to go potty,” he pleaded. That much was true, and Mommy didn’t take him to the potty. Across from a row of sinks, was a thick plastic table mounted on the wall. Miraculously steadying Aaron with one arm on her hip, she reached and pulled down the shelf. “I can’t read…” Aaron said aloud, his voice echoing off the empty bathroom walls. It wasn’t just a matter of his eyes focusing. There was a sign right next to the fold out, and even though he recognized that those were, in fact, letters on the sign, he couldn’t read what they said. “I can’t read!” The symbol on the plaque next to it was of two vaguely humanoid shapes. One smaller than the other. The small one on its back and the big one by the smaller one’s legs. Also, the small one had something white wrapped around its waist. The only person who wouldn’t know what the symbol meant would be the person young enough to be depicted laying down on the mounted shelf. Aaron’s back went onto the plastic tray of the baby changing station. It didn’t collapse under his weight as it should have. Rather it seemed to subtly grow to accommodate his full grown form. Reality had stopped according to Cupid’s whims the other day. Today it was going out of its way to literally pamper the boy. His once-girlfriend pulled a strap over his chest. Aaron’s hands shot down to the buckle, but the locking mechanism might as well have been frozen in place, just like the snaps running along his inseam. “CUPID!” he called out. “EROS! THIS WASN’T PART OF THE DEAL!” The restroom became glassy with Aaron’s tears. “THIS ISN’T WHAT YOU PROMISED ME!” Aaron wanted up. He wanted out of this device, this location, this scenario. He wanted his adulthood back. He wanted Mommy to hold him and tell him it was going to be okay. Holy crap (a poor choice of words). Whatever hocus pocus was making him look like a baby to others was starting to affect his brain, too, and only now was he realizing it. “My baby’s got a soggy bum-bum, doesn’t he?” Mommy cooed. “Yes he does!” Electric jolts of panic came out as laughter while she tickled him beneath his arms. “Ooooh, does Aaron not like the tickles? Mommy’s just tryin’ to help him get all the pee-pee’s out.” “Mommy! Stop!” Aaron sucked in his breath. Why had he called her Mommy? Why was he still calling her Mommy? Why couldn’t he think of her as anything BUT Mommy?! Mommy didn’t stop. As far as Aaron knew, she couldn’t understand him. Even if she could, the love god’s promise was true: She couldn’t keep her hands off him! She couldn’t keep her hands from unsnapping the buttons along the inseam of his footed sleeper. She couldn’t stop unthreading his bare, now hairless, legs from the built in socks, her fingers like tickling spiders as she shuffled the rest of the sleeper up his hips, exposing a bulging sopping wet diaper. Powerless to stop her, Aaron craned his neck up and looked past his chest to see how far he’d gotten into this mess. A diaper! He was really wearing a giant diaper! But it wasn’t an adult diaper or a Depends or whatever old people wore when they couldn’t hold it in. It was a REAL diaper. A DIAPER diaper! A BABY diaper! It was a BIG baby diaper, but it was a diaper nonetheless. He racked his brain. What brand was he wearing? Huggies? No. Huggies wasn’t covered with purple monkey decorations. Which diaper was the purple monkey one? He’d seen commercials for it. Mommy eventually answered his question for him. “Live and learn,” she said, taking a fresh one out of her diaper bag, “and then get Luvs.” Truer words were never spoken. If Aaron made it through this alive, he’d consider himself learnt. Yesterday, he’d come across Cupid. Today he was in a soggy diaper and it was a Luvs of all things. Irony had left the building and now Aaron was in cruel punishment territory. If he made it out of this, he’d learn to not take candy from strangers. How long was he gonna be stuck in Luvs? Not long, it turned out (not that pair anyhow). Mommy tore open the diaper with two flicks of her wrist and peeled the sopping wet padding back. “Mommy!” Aaron yelped. The scent of ammonia invaded his nostrils, as his penis glistened in the light. He had been told that he’d get his wick wet. He just didn’t think he’d be the one wetting it. No pubic hair, either... “Shhh,” Mommy hushed him. “I know, I know.” She really didn’t. No clue. No one did. No one except Cupid. The cold wipes dragged across his crotch were gentle enough, but they were so cold that any pleasure Aaron might have derived-however perverse- was canceled out by the temperature. Hard to gain pleasure when every change was pretty much a localized cold shower. Mommy crossed his ankles over each other and lifted his legs up for him, not even asking for his help. His whole body might as well have been filled with cotton to Mommy; slightly cumbersome but not at all heavy. His backside got the same treatment as the front. Just as refreshing. Just as romantic, (as in not at all). The ruined diaper that used to be his underwear (that was something he hadn’t thought of until now) went into the garbage with such a loud “thunk”, that Aaron was positive that Mommy would realize how heavy it was and therefore couldn’t have been a baby’s diaper and obviously he wasn’t a baby. He was barely half-right. “Wow,” Mommy said. “You really filled that one up, didn’t ya?” She wasted no time in slipping its replacement beneath him. “I’m impressed it didn’t leak!” She took no powder to his privates, but the sickening smell of baby powder took the place of warm piss anyways. No magic needed. Luvs just had a perfumed core. The fight had left Aaron as Mommy pulled the new diaper up and taped it on over him. He hadn’t quite given in to despair. It’s just that diapered was better to him than being naked from the waist down. He stopped squirming and kicking, however feebly, just so Mommy could re-thread his legs into the bottom half of the sleeper and button it back up. The sleeper felt roomier after it was buttoned up. Was he shrinking too? No. The new diaper just hadn’t swollen up yet. Keyword: Yet. Aaron’s tantrum resumed the second he was back on Mommy’s hip. “Mommy!” He cried out. “Listen to me! This is a mistake! I’m not a baby! I’m a big boy! Cupid did this! I’m your boyfriend! Your BIG boyfriend!” Damnit! Even if she could understand his speech, the words weren’t coming out right. Mommy walked them away from the changing table, but instead of going back out to the park, she took a sharp right turn before exiting the bathroom. Aaron had thought it was a broom closet, but he caught a glimpse of the sign.on the open door just before Mommy closed it. Like most bathroom signs, it was genderless and facless; just bulbous sillhouettes of roughly human people. A mother holding a baby, obviously What was this? He’d never seen anything like it before in any men’s room. It was just a small room, not much bigger than a bathroom stall. There were no toilets though. Was this another kind of diaper change station? No. It couldn’t be. Just a small wicker couch and a locked door. Bunched up and cradled in Mommy’s arms, Aaron was carried over to the couch and laid down in Mommy’s lap. “Still fussy after that diaper change? Mommy knows what’s really bothering you.” “I really doubt that.” Aaron quipped. He found himself repositioned so that he was nowhere near eye level with his girlfriend. Then she started to unbutton her blouse.“No…” Yes. Something had changed about her clothing. In its own way, her underwear had shifted too. But only her underwear. She now had cups that unfastened in the front. A nursing bra. “No, no.” Yes, yes. “Baby Aaron is fussy cuz he needs Mommy’s milk.” “No!” His barking protest only made the milk drip out of her nipple. It was over then. With a titan’s strength, Mommy shoved his head towards her teat. His mouth opened to scream, but no sound came. He just latched on. Latched on and enjoyed it. Trapped inside his own body, Aaron suckled and exalted as Mommy’s milk poured into his mouth. The creamy stuff slid down his throat and he gulped with gusto. “Someone’s a hungry boy,” Mommy cooed. “That’s right. Eat it all up. That way you can grow up big and strong.” A lot to unpack in that sentence, considering that if reality had been working properly, Aaron would have had a good hundred pounds on Mommy. This was so wrong. He’d wanted to do so many things to this girl- yes, including suck on her titties- but that was more foreplay than anything else. Drinking out of them had never been in the game plan. Several minutes in, just as he was starting to feel a bit stated, Aaron realized this was wrong on a physical level, as well. His tongue told him this was delicious; the greatest thing he’d ever tasted or would taste. In the same way that he could no longer keep his pants clean to save his life, it made sense. Part of his brain had been switched into infant mode. But his throat and stomach were still a grown-man’s. But he should not be able to nurse this much out of Mommy. Short of a pocket dimension linked directly to her nipple, Mommy shouldn’t be able to produce this amount of milk in one sitting. Aaron’s head was tugged away and he was switched over to the other breast. He got in one gasp before his body took over again and resumed nursing. No more thought. Too much sensory input. Too much warmth. Too much primal pleasure. He could feel Mommy’s heartbeat. He could feel and hear her humming as she gently rocked him there in the feeding stall. Time to check out. Time to give in for a little bit. Time to just fill up. The would-be boyfriend came to draped over his Mommy’s shoulder, and her hand thundering on his back. More reality bending. She’d carted him around and wasn’t even breathing hard. He should be crushing her. But as far as the universe was concerned, he was her baby boy now. “Uuuuurp!” The burps proved it. Mommy paced around the room and jostled him, but it was no struggle at all on her part. Functionally, he was weightless. Just a bit of gentle prodding to get the gas out of his tummy To his dismay, more than just gas was coming out. Had his body been able to fully cooperate, Aaron would have thrashed; kicked and screamed. Perhaps even hit Mommy upside the head so that she’d drop him. That way, he could rush to a toilet in time and stop the inevitable from happening. Had his body been allowed to cooperate, he wouldn’t need the diaper wrapped around his hips at all. Unlike the first time, Aaron was acutely aware of what was happening. There was no surprise this time. Disturbingly identical to the first time, there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop himself. His body did the work. Aaron just had to live with it and let gravity do the rest. He let out a low breathy moan. “Noooooo….” Mommy just shushed him and kept rubbing his back. This wasn’t part of the deal. Carried outside the restroom, Aaron was gently plopped back down into the seat of a stroller that hadn’t been there before and buckled in. Speaking of “plop”, that was the word that best described the situation in his pants as something vile was spread around just beneath his sleeper. Plop. “Noooo...I need a change again.” There was something Aaron never thought he’d never have to say that out loud. Only the assumption that his vomiting up the breastmilk would simply be written off as spit-up kept the contents of Aaron’s stomach where they were. Birds stopped tweeting. New lovers locked lips for an uncomfortable amount of time. Park joggers and dogs catching frisbees hung mid leap. The breeze stopped as if someone had hit a fan’s switch, and neither the sun, nor the clouds moved an inch. For some reason, however, none of that helped the smell coming from Aaron’s diaper. Time was frozen... “Looks like you're getting settled in,” a familiar voice said. Aaron whipped his head around. “Cupid!” The next sounds out of Aaron’s mouth could have been either a child’s temper tantrum or a grown man’s bellowing rage. Hard to tell given the context. The god smirked. “It’s Eros, actually. You look more like cupid. What with the diaper.” He snickered. “Gosh it feels good to say that. I love it when people actually eat the candy instead of tossing it away.” There was something different about the man. He no longer looked so clean cut. His voice seemed a little deeper, and there was a bristly coat of facial hair on his cheeks and chin. Even in Florida, the weather was still too chilly to wear short sleeves, but Aaron would have placed good money on the man having thicker and darker body hair. In other words, this godling now had everything Aaron lacked. All that realization accomplished was another round of wordless screaming and Aaron rattling the bonds of his stroller. All the anger and rage was causing his cheeks to flush and his limbs to tremble. It was almost enough for him to forget the stench and texture in his underpants. Almost. “Oh come off it,” the divine con-man said. “Even if time wasn’t stopped. You wouldn’t be able to get out of that stroller. Stronger dudes than you have tried.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Aaron asked. “Tell you what? That my magic would turn you into a giant baby? That you’d lose your potty training and wouldn’t even be able to remember your Mommy’s name?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Would you have taken the bait if I had?” Aaron made no reply. He knew the answer. So did Eros. He decided to ask another question, instead. “Why turn anybody into a baby?” “There’s more than one kind of love, y’know.” He winked. “Trust me, there was no way you were getting into her pants after forgetting Valentine’s day. At least now she can get into yours.” Aaron sunk back into the stroller. It was the only way that he could get the straps to have even a bit of slack. “Yeah...thanks for rubbing it in.” Eros bent over and tweaked Aaron’s nose. “I’m not here to rub it in,” he said. “I’m here to help. You’re the only one I tricked into eating the candy this year. The least I could do was check in and maybe offer some perspective.” The baby man took the pacifier dangling off his sleeper and put it in his mouth. “Heph haw?” Neither the pacifier, nor his crossing his arms in a pout made him look terribly threatening. He couldn’t help it. His body and emotions were at-best half under his control. The urge to fuss and cry out for Mommy was starting to well up and if he didn’t find a way to self-soothe, he’d start doing it. “Just that it’s not all bad,” he said. “Free food, room, and rent. Everybody thinks you’re cute. More and more babysitters are sexy co-eds these days.” He looked to Mommy; still frozen in time and checking to make sure her blouse was properly rebuttoned. “Though your Mommy’s not bad either. Good for you. Dude. Glad I could help salvage the relationship.” “I’h in a fugging diaphuh,” Aaron mumbled behind the paci. “I’h huh fugging baby.” The smile was not unkind, maybe even kind of sympathetic. “So what? In the long run that’s a bonus. You can lie around and burp and fart and puke; y’know, the same stuff you used to do. Only now, everybody will still think you’re cute for doing it.” Easy for the off-brand cupid to say. There was an air of condescension to his voice. Eros was the doctor giving a cancer diagnosis but softening the blow with how much weight people lost in chemotherapy. “Buh diaphus…!” “Just think of it as sensory input. Sometimes it’s a cool and dry and fresh feeling. Other times it’s wet and warm...maybe a little sticky. All are nice feelings. Your downstairs doesn’t really care where the feelings are coming from. Hell, it looks like your upstairs doesn’t care so much, either.” That made Aaron spit the pacifier back out. “It’s not like you gotta clean it up yourself, anyway. And the cartoons might suck, but they’re sneaking all sorts of references for the parents these days, so it’s not like you can’t get something out of them.” Aaron couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He felt he was losing his mind and had lost all autonomy, and here this jackass was just breaking his utter degradation into a list of pros and cons; of pitfalls and compromises. Some dark corner of his brain supposed Eros had had plenty of time to compartmentalize and think about things this way. “My brain is turning to mush.” Aaron sniffed. “I don’t even know my Mommy’s real name.” The former baby god twerked his mouth to the side.“Yeah...that part stinks.” His nose twitched. Something else stank, too. He finally got a decent whiff of Aaron’s predicament. “I gotcha covered.” Aaron felt a whoosh of wind as the breeze picked up. The birds were flapping and chirping once more. Time was moving again. “Excuse me miss,” Eros said. “I don’t mean to embarrass you, but I think you’re buttoned up a little funny.” Mommy looked down at her blouse and blushed. “Ooops! Thank you for telling me. How did I miss that one?” The stroller started to whirl around back towards the public restroom. Back to the nursing station. “No worries. It happens.” Eros replied. “And uh...if you don’t mind me saying, I think you’re little tyke might need some help, too. I might’ve just caught a whiff of something if you know what I mean.” Aaron flushed beat red as Mommy lifted him out of the stroller and patted him down like a police officer searching for a gun. The guy who’d roped him into this just winked. “Oh, you’re right,” she said. Her voice got all cutesy high, again. “And I just changed you, little man!” “Did you change him first, and then feed him?” the god said. “Sometimes the input up top makes the bottom start to make room. You know?” Mommy’s eyes lit up. “Yeah,” she said. “I never thought of it that way, but that makes sense. Are you a father?” A devilish smirk. “Something like that. I’ve got a lot of experience with babies is all” Aaron wished he’d accepted candy from a death god or something.. Aaron’s brain went all buzzy again as Mommy nuzzled him. “Baby boy had to make room for Mommy’s milk. Shoulda fed you first, changed you second.” “Yeah,” Eros agreed. “He’s too little to potty train at this stage anyways. Might as well save up on Luvs.” Mommy adjusted Aaron so she could (somehow) hold him and look at Eros at the same time. “How did you know what kind of diaper he wore?” It was the first time that Aaron had seen his counterpart blush. “Lucky guess…Hey uh...what’s the little guy’s name?” “Aaron,” Mommy said. “Is he your first?” “My one and only.” Gross pants notwithstanding, the love Aaron felt made his brain want to melt in the best way. Eros stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry if I’m being forward, ma’am, but maybe after you change Aaron I could give you my phone number. You could text me. Maybe we discuss getting a sitter for him and I buy you a cup of coffee…?” Mommy seemed to think for a moment. “Offer to pay for the sitter, and you can buy me dinner.” “Deal. I’m Eros...I mean Errol by the way.” “Sarah.” Sarah. Mommy’s name was Sarah. “Now if you excuse me, I’ve got a little guy who needs me.” As he was carried back into the changing area, Aaron sincerely hoped that Eros wouldn’t be there when he got put back into his stroller again; that this was just a roundabout way of getting him clean pants and a bit of lost knowledge. He could live with thinking of his girlfriend as Mommy, but it’d be a cold day in hell before he called that rat bastard “Daddy”. (The End.)

Dear Film Aficionados, The following is a novelization of the rare, never before seen first draft of Pulp Fiction, written but never filmed, wherein Vincent Vega was not killed by Butch. Given that bad things happen to Vincent throughout the film while he’s using the bathroom, Tarantino wrote the below sequence as a kind of epilogue for the Vincent and Mia relationship that would in a lighthearted albeit strange way mirror Butch and Marsellus Wallace’s arc in the pawn shop. Worried that elements of Adult Baby Diaper Lover kink might not sit well with mainstream audiences, Tarantino opted to cut this from his final draft and spend the rest of his career doubling down on the use of racial slurs, eating other people’s food as a power move, and foot fetish. Enjoy. It was on shaky legs that Vincent Vega walked into Marsellus Wallace’s strip club. As with the last time, his boss was just finishing up business. Vincent was pretty sure Wallace planned it that way. You see man exerting power over another man, it was easier for him to hold power over you. “Two things, mother fucker,” Mr. Wallace said loud enough for Vincent to overhear. “One; you take this money, you’re not selling me a loss in the fourth. You’re selling me your pride. You take this money from me and I own your pride. It goes in my back pocket. You sell me your pride and a year from now, you’re living like a prince in Vegas. Understand?” The boxer. A young fella this time, reached for the envelope. “Yessir, Mr. Wallace.” Marellus yanked the money back. “Two: Your girl’s not going to the fight. I’m having one of my boys take care of her. Keep her safe. Just in case.” Vincent grimaced at the not so veiled threat. Not because he found such an insurance policy distasteful; it just reminded him of one of his own fuck ups. “You take this money, you make it to the fourth, your ass goes down. Then my guy pays for dinner and sees your girl home.” For a second time, the guy about to ruin his career for cash reached out. “Got it.” “Say it.” “I take the money. I make it to the fourth. My ass goes down. My girlfriend gets a free dinner.” This time the kid got to take the money. They all took the money if they made it this far. Some days were just a motherfuckin repeat of the last. Unlike the day before, Vincent didn’t have Jules by his side. After all that time misquoting Bible verses before shooting people, Jules finally found God in a diner of all places and was gonna be a bum. How fucked up was that? Now Jules was out of the game. At least, Vincent looked more stylish than last time. His black suit and tie, his working outfit. Way better than the shitty gray t-shirt he was wearing the other day. “You want anything?” The bartender asked Vincent. “Liquid courage?” Vincent played it cool and leaned against the bar. “Why would I need that?” “Rumor has it, Mr. Wallace is doing this new insurance policy because you fucked up the last one.” “Rumor has it you’re a fucking asshole,” Vincent said cooly. “Is that true?” The bartender threw up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Okay. Okay. My bad. Just saying what other people was saying.” Vincent rolled his eyes. One ill-timed bathroom break at a gas station and Vincent had missed this punchy has been who welched on a payoff by mere minutes. Word around the last forty- eight hours was that Mr. Wallace was no longer seeking payback as long as Butch Coolidge stayed out of LA. Vincent didn’t know what the asshole had done to deserve that kind of mercy, but Vincent didn’t know if he’d actually gotten it, either. Damn. Mia was right. When it came down to it, hitmen and leg breakers weren’t any better than a bunch of old biddies at a sewing circle. All gossip and speculation over shit they knew nothing about. Mia... “Vincent Vega?” Mr. Wallace called over. “My boy! Get your ass over here!” Vincent did. In the right light, Marsellus Wallace looked as strong, healthy, and confident as he ever did. A big black man with a loud confidence and a quiet intensity about him, like he could see the date of your death scratched on your forehead, and if he liked you enough he’d pretend not to look at it. In the wrong light, Vincent could tell something had happened. Wallace looked rough. Low on a sleep. High on pain. He’d been standing with the latest boxer getting set up to take a dive. Not at ease enough to sit down. Vincent didn’t know, couldn’t know, and didn’t want to know why. Maybe it had something to do with why Collidge had been allowed to walk away. There he went again, just like Mia said. Mia... Marsellus opened his arms wide, and Vincent went in for a hug. It wouldn’t be much for the big man to crush the life out of Vincent. There was a reason Vincent worked for Marsellus and the money was only half of it. “I got another job for you.” “Yeah?” Vincent asked. “Who is it?” Finally, some normalcy. “Mia…” *************************************************************************************** It wasn’t gonna be like the last time, Vincent swore to himself. This time he was sober. This time he was on guard. Inhibitions would not be lowered. Heroin would not be found in his pockets. Nobody would fucking OD and need a needle jabbed into their chest. He wouldn’t need a skinny ex-actress to almost die to resist temptation. Just in case, Vega wore something underneath his fancy suit and bolo tie. Using the UC Santa Cruz t-shirt as an undershirt was a stroke of genius. Hard to succumb to temptation if he kept thinking about the reason he’d needed to change into that shirt. Dead bodies were real mood killers. “This’ll be fine,” Vincent whispered to himself. “This is gonna be fine.” Marsellus Wallace wasn’t mad at him. Not at all. He wouldn’t be asked to babysit the man’s wife a second time if he was mad for the screw up. Marsellus obviously didn’t know about the first not-a-date date, either. “It’s just another dinner. Some dancing.” Like last time, she’d left a note for him. Welcome back Vincent, I’m getting ready. Come in and get comfortable. You know the drill. -Mia This time, the note had the faint trace of perfume on it. Jasmine and violets. Fuck. Vincent Vega dragged his palm down his forehead and slicked back his hair. He inhaled through his mouth and thought of the gray shirt and cleaning pieces of Marvin in the back seat of Jules’s car. That’d do it. He went into the house. He didn’t need directions to the intercom the second time. “Hey, Mia,” Vincent said, making sure to press the button before he spoke. The house was quiet this time. No music playing while Mia primped and primed and powdered her nose. “Hello, Vincent.” Her voice, though flat, sent lightning tingle up and down the hitman’s brain. “I’ll be down in a jif. You know where the bar is. Make us both a drink, yeah?” “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Mia.” It was a bad idea. A bad bad idea. “Live a little, Vincent.” Even through the slight electronic haze of intercom, Vincent knew it was a bad idea. Bad ideas never stopped him before. He went over and poured himself a drink. Whiskey. Top shelf. He downed it and refilled it before grabbing a martini glass and filling it with vodka for the lady. This was a test. Vincent was gonna need liquid courage to pass it. The slight hiss of a needle on vinyl. The thump-tha-thump and backbeat of a base drum accompanied by upbeat acoustic guitar. Almost time. Mrs. Wallace sure knew how to make an entrance. “The night we met I knew I...needed you so.” Vincent looked up to the stairs and saw her coming down, gold colored shoes and black pants that flared at the ankles and hugged further up the legs to her hips. “And if I had the chance I’d...never let you go.” A white blouse that did much the same with her wrists and waist, yet accentuating her supple breasts. “So won’t you say you love me.” Raven black hair to match Vincent’s own, but cut into a bob style haircut with bangs so that it perfectly framed her face like a picture, making her scarlet lips pop. “I’ll make you so proud of me.” History was repeating itself. Save for the dorky t-shirt he made himself wear, he was dressed exactly the same. “We’ll make ‘em turn their heads, every place we go…” Save for the baby blue satchel purse over her shoulder, she was too. “Hello Vincent.” She smiled softly. “Ready to spend some time together?” Over the course of forty-eight hours, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace had swapped demeanors. When Vincent last saw her, Mia was half a corpse. Now she was damn near radiant. Amazing what a good night’s sleep and a bit of secrecy can do for a gal. Vincent came up to her before she’d fully descended and handed her the martini glass. “Sure,” he said. “Yeah. Where are we headed? A fake speakeasy where the waiters dress like Al Capone?” Mia didn’t break her stride. She knocked back the martini and walked around to sit on the couch. “I was thinking of staying in and doing something different.” Walking around to maintain eye contact, Vega pouted his lips and cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah. Different how?” He eyed the bulky bag still leaning against Mia’s hips. “Why the purse?” One of the hottest women he’d ever met, and his boss’s wife, was suggesting they stay in tonight. Alarm bells should have been ringing in Vincent’s skull. Horny, buzzed, and a streak of dumb luck can do a lot to drown out alarm bells. “I have something to ask you. But you gotta promise me not to get offended.” A playful smile tugged at Mia’s lips as she threw back Vincent’s words from the other night. The game was afoot. “Pretty sure that’s a bullshit promise,” Vincent flashed a grin. “That’s a promise I can’t keep. I can’t promise how I’m gonna react because I don’t know what you’re gonna say. So say what you’re gonna say and then I’ll react to it.” This was dumb. This was dumb. This was really, really, dumb. Mia chuckled dryly in recognition. She was playing too. “You saved my life, Vincent. You took care of me in a way Marsellus never has.” Too strong! Vincent took a half-step back. “Whoah, whoah, Mia. Slow down. I like you, as a friend,” he lied, “but I’m not looking to do anything with you that he would.” Mia remained seated, comfortable and confident. “I know, Vincent. I know.” She patted the sofa cushion next to her. As a compromise between smart and stupid, he sat down an extra cushion over. Mia didn’t seem to mind. “I haven’t told him about that night. Neither of you. And you know how I feel about uncomfortable silences.” She was beating around his bush, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out about what. He wasn’t gonna sleep with her, not this sober. Either she was lying or...or…? “What do you wanna do? He asked. The mob boss’s wife looked him dead in the eye. “I want you to give me something he won’t. I want a baby. Just for tonight.” Red flag! Red flag! RUN! RUN! Instead, Vincent laughed. “And I’m not a doctor, but I’m pretty sure that if I give you a baby, Marsellus will know and will find something higher than four stories and toss me out of it and only if I’m lucky. I know it’ll take longer than one night to get here.” Mia was unphased. “No you idiot,” she said. Only she could call Vincent an idiot and it somehow not feel like an insult. Maybe he was an idiot; for her, anyway. “I don’t want you to put a baby in me.” “Then what the fuck do you want?” Vincent’s smile didn’t quite reach his squinting eyes. In answer, Mia snapped her fingers and pointed to the speakers. The Ronette’s were still playing. She let the music do the talking for her. “So won’t you, please (Be my, be my baby) Be my little baby (My one and only baby) Say you’ll be my darlin’ (Be my, be my baby Be my baby noooooow! Whoah-oh-oh-oh” Vincent guffawed. “How is what you said any different than what I just said?” He still wasn’t getting up. “You’re cute,” Mia siad. She undid the satchel and flipped it open. “Clever. Dumb with hints.” Vincent tilted his head to the side. The purse didn’t go with what she was wearing at all. What did a lady like her need with a purse anyways? It’s not like she ever had to pay for anything. “Let me help.” First thing out of the bag was a white bottle of baby powder. Mia slammed it on the coffee table and a little bit of white residue shot up in the air from the loosened cap. It wasn’t the first white powder Mia had put up her nose. The fan carried the scent of it, jasmine and violets, into Vega’s nostrils. That hadn’t been perfume he’d smelled. Next came the packet of wipes. Quite a lot, more than enough to get makeup off. The white folded hunk of soft plastic came down next, and Vincent sucked in his breath. “Is that a…?” A second and a third one joined it on the coffee table, making a stack. “Diaper?!” Vincent finally understood what she meant by the song. “Lay back.” The woman stood up. “Take your pants off,” she said. She closed in on Vincent. He still didn’t run. “No wait. Don’t. Let me.” Despite himself, Vincent was lying back, trying stupidly to scramble over the low side armrest of the white leather couch. “Whoah whoah whoah!” He slapped at her hands to keep her at bay. He’d seen some wild shit in Amsterdam, he’d seen people dip their fries in mayonnaise. This was a half-step too far. “I’m not into this stuff.” “Neither am I,” Mia said. “But I’m willing to give it a try if you are.” “I’m not!” Vincent didn’t seem or feel all that convincing half-lying down. Mia stood up and grabbed a diaper from the top of the stack she’d made. “I’ll tell you what,” she said, unfolding it. “Let me play my little game. Let me take care of you and pretend. You might like it. Or…” “Or?” “You can give me a foot rub.” That’s how Mia got his pants off... ********************************************************************************* Vincent had had plenty of ladies, thousands, take his clothes off. Mia was the first to put clothes on him. Did diapers even count as clothes? He wasn’t sure. His business was covered, but he still felt oddly naked. He still looked like a dork, too. The one piece of clothing he’d walked into the house wearing was the lame college t-shirt that made him look like a dork. The white puffy diaper MIa taped on him wasn’t making him feel any less dorky. Laying there on the couch, with his head in Mia’s lap, ‘oddly naked’ and ‘dorky’ were things he could deal with. He stared up into her eyes and saw the same fascinated and intriguing sparkle in her eyes that he’d caught glimpses of sitting across from her at Jackrabbit Slim’s. He tried to mumble something up to her, but the rubber nipple was held firm in his mouth. “Finish your baba, baby,” Mia smiled down at him. “Make it all gone and then we can play. How does that sound?” Vincent’s eyes drifted down from her face and to her breasts. He reached for them, wanting to touch. Babies did it all the time. He was just role playing, which is what she wanted. Might as well get into character. She grabbed him by the pinky, and stopped him cold. “Only if you’re a good little boy,” she warned. “Finish your baba.” The hitman placed his hands, both of them, where she could see them on the baby bottle. The milk wasn’t bad. It tasted sweet, and was kind of thick. Thicker than normal milk, almost like a shake with ice cream to milk ratio reversed. It still wasn’t worth five dollars, but it wasn’t bad. Maybe next time, he could sweet talk her into adding a little bourbon in it. The fuck was he thinking? Next time? Doing this? He made a face while he sucked down the last of the (he hoped) fake baby formula. “Alright tiger,” Mia said, “sit up.” She took the bottle out of his mouth, placed it down on the coffee table and started nudging at his shoulders. “Up-up.” It wasn’t easy sitting up in the diaper, though it had nothing to do with his body as much as it did with psychology. True, the thick padded core felt like like he was wearing several pairs of tighty whities at the same time, spreading his legs apart, but that didn’t fuck with his muscle memory as much as the distinct crinkle, like a bag of potato chips, every time he moved his hips in the slightest. It gave Vincent the same kind of feeling that he got listening to someone else brush their teeth. “Uhhhhhhgh…” he exhaled while Mia started slowly rubbing his back. A back rub. That was nice. Nice enough that when he closed his eyes, despite himself, he heard another crinkle even though his hips weren’t moving. Vincent opened his eyes and glanced down at his crotch. One small blessing was that adult diapers were pretty good at hiding erections. Weird, considering how most people who needed them probably didn’t get erections any more. A foot rub is never just a foot rub and the back rub didn’t stay just a back rub for long. The boss’s wife started picking up the pace and alternating between rubbing his spine and pounding all along his back rapid fire; like a Swedish massage with the wires all crossed. “Huh?” “Come on, baby.” Mia said. “Give it to Mommy. Be a good boy and give me a good one.” “If this is what you think getting it good is,” Vincent quipped, “then no wonder Mr. Wallace hasn’t given you a ba-’ his words were cut off by the sound of his own “UUUUURP!” as the milk he’d just finished came rumbling up out of him. He was too stunned to even try and cover his mouth. “There we go!” Mia’s voice perked up. “Two more.” “Two more?” he echoed dumbly. “Burps,” Mia didn’t even stop pounding on his back. “Give me two more burps.” Easier done than said. “Urp!” “One.” And then a final, much quieter, “urp’. “Two.” The back beating turned back into a rub. “That’s my boy,” she whispered sensually into his ear. “You’re...welcome?” Vega didn’t know what to say. What was the protocol for this kind of strange? “Get on the floor for Mommy,” Mia whispered to him. This was something Vincent didn’t need to be told twice. It was just a quick scoot and a backward crab walk to make. Cockily, Vincent laid out spread eagle, hoping it meant what he thought it meant. Dry humping didn’t count. She’d already seen his dick, anyway. (Yeah, dry humping counted. If a foot rub counted, dry humping counted. But a guy can only get so dead so might as well live a little.) Mia reached into the diaper bag and started laying some wooden number and alphabet blocks down on the ground. “I meant ‘crawl on the floor’, silly,” she said. “Unless you’re so little you can’t even do that much.” Something, some bit of pride, made Vincent roll over with a snap. He pushed himself up to his knees and got.the flat of one foot down on the floor when Mia wagged her finger in his face. “Ah-ah-ah! Knees are as high as you go.” Vincent stopped himself and lowered back down to his hands and knees. This was the craziest, dumbest thing he’d ever done. Mia pivoted around him and brushed a bit of hair out of the man’s face. The smile made Vincent feel warm in all the right ways. A twinge in his bladder, and the plastic rustle between his legs brought Vincent back to reality. “I gotta piss,” he said. This time, he really meant it. The hand the young and beautiful Mrs. Wallace placed on his back might as well have been a five-hundred pound barbell. “Let me check,” she said. Vincent’s elbows locked and he grit his teeth. Mia patted the back of his diaper and stuck her fingers inside the leg holes. “Still dry.” In less than two days, this chick had gone from saying him going to pee was ‘A little too much information’ to feeling him up in what had to be the least sexy way possible. He wouldn’t even let his doctor do this kind of thing to him! “I didn’t say that I pissed my pants,” he whined. “I said that I have to pee.” “If babies knew when they had to go,” Mia teased, “they wouldn’t be wearing diapers, would they?” “Yeah,” Vincent replied. “I’m not actually a-” He was cut off by another rubber nipple entering his mouth. “Let’s keep that comfortable silence going,” Mia smirked. She booped his nose and then the button shield on his pacifier for good measure. “Stay here, and play with your blocks. Mommy’s gonna go rustle up something to eat in the kitchen. If you’re wet enough when I get back,” she leaned over and patted his bottom “maybe I’ll change you.” Mia didn’t so much as look back trotting off to the kitchen. Having lost his looming erection to the mounting burning pressure in his bladder, Vince held himself. She really expected him to do this? In his pants? With a hint of defiance, Vincent Vega pushed himself back up to his knees. He’d only just stuck his foot out into a kneel, kind of looking like that one painting of George Washington crossing the River Thames or whatever when Mia’s voice called in from the kitchen. “Don’t even think about it!” HOW LOUD WAS THIS DIAPER? There was something unnerving about the way she said it, too. It wasn’t intimidating or angry the way Jules got when he was ona roll. It was so completely matter of fact. Just like, well, a Mommy. The hitman lowered himself back to a crawling position. “I fasn’t doin’ anyfin!” he lied. Talking around the pacifier. “Good!” Mia called back from the kitchen. “I already locked the bathrooms. Took your pants, too. Good luck going outside till we’re done.” Vincent turned around like a dog trying to lick its own ass. She wasn’t lying about that. He had no idea how or when she did it, but everything he’d come in wearing from his shoes on up was gone. When the fuck had that happened? “I wasn’t goin’ anywhere!” “Your potty options are your diaper or Marsellus’s carpet.” Thinking about what Marsellus Wallace might do to a body had a bladder loosening effect on most people under normal circumstances. The diaper, embarrassment, fear, and two glasses of whiskey that had zipped all the way through him made it worse. He had no choice, he felt. Vincent closed his eyes, took a deep breath, pretended the pacifier was a cigarette, and let go in his pants. It was worse than the splatter of blood to his suit. Actually, not that bad. Just...different. He felt the physical relief of his bladder draining, but added to it a wet warmth spreading out and splashing around before dripping and being absorbed by the dense padding. A sensation of release coupled with a sensation of wetness. Yeah, that happened to Vincent often enough, just not like this; not since he was three or four or whatever kids learn to stop pissing their pants. The wetness wasn’t going away either. No pulling out. No toweling off. No taking a shower. The hitman sat back, the crinkling noise greatly diminished as he eyed the pack of baby wipes, and shuddered. There also wasn’t any noise. The process felt half-done. No flushing. No handwashing. It’s not like he could reach down and shake it off. He reached down and patted the warm diaper between the legs, feeling the wet squish. It didn’t feel too bad, if he didn’t think about it. Too bad he was thinkin’ about it. He grabbed a couple of the baby blocks and haphazardly started to stack them on top of each other. With a final exhale and a quasi-accidental suck on the binky, Vincent mumbled “Aa leash I don’ hafta fush.” Mia came back in with a plate, filled with those fancy little sandwiches, the kind that rich ladies had at lawn parties out in the valley or whatever. It was a far cry from a steak. “Let’s eat up,” Mia said, sitting back down on the couch. Vincent reached out with one hand, took the pacifier out with the other, grabbed one of the little bread squares and nibbled at it. He winced. Way sweeter than he’d expected. He tilted the sandwich enough to see the brown creamy bottom and purple goop at the top layer. “Peanut butter and jelly,” Mia said. “Bite size. With the crust cut off.” “Aren’t these supposed to be, I don’t know...seaweed or watercress or somethin’?” Looming over him, Mia gave out a dry chuckle. “I thought a big boy like you would like it. Want me to find some applesauce or oatmeal and spoon feed it to you?” Never before had Vincent been so tempted. He quashed it and shoveled the sandwich in his pie hole. Not a steak. Better than a bullet in the brain. He reached for another. From behind, Mia leaned over and gave the front of his diaper a squeeze. “I thought so. Looks like someone couldn’t hold it. Not such a big boy after all, are we?” Vincent felt his face heat up; his cheeks flushing. The crinkle up front wasn’t audible, but with a relieved bladder, a renewed lust was breaching the surface. Feeling the warm wetness around his cock and the squeezing pressure of MIa’s hand. It wasn’t quite the same, but his penis was too dumb to appreciate the difference. Enough parallels could be rawn. He let out a low moan. “Those are good sandwiches aren’t they?” Mia was fucking with him. She had to be fucking with him. With crumbs tumbling out of his mouth and lips dabbed with jelly. Vincent nodded “Mhm.” “Good. Eat it all up,” she whispered. Daintily, she picked up her own sandwich and started nibbling on it.. Vincent went in for thirds. “Hrrrrn…” he said, patting his stomach. This time the moan wasn’t out of pleasure. Mia glanced at the clock. “Right on time.” Vincent gulped the last bit of sandwich. “What’s right on time?” Mia stood up and patted him on the head. “That wasn’t just milk I gave you in your baba baby boy.” “Huh?” Vincent stood up, but Mia just pushed him back to the floor like he was just a toddler who hadn’t quite mastered walking and balance.. He felt funny. Weak. And something was brewing in his gut. “What did….what did you do?” The world wasn’t spinning, but Vincent was feeling weak like a kitten. Like a baby. “I wanted you to have the full experience,” Mia said. “I wanted to get the full experience.” “What did you put in that bottle?” Vincent’s words were coming out soft and funny. He felt absolutely blasted. “A little something I used to slip into guy’s drinks when I thought they were gonna slip something into mine, plus some laxative. It’s why I wanted you on the floor. Didn’t want my little guy to fall and bang his head on the table or nothin’. ” Mia put the pacifier back in Vincent’s mouth. Oh god, why was this turning him on? “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Just let it happen.” Vincent whimpered and held onto Mia’s knee like it was the mast in a storm at sea. His insides felt like they were swelling up, a balloon getting ready to pop. She stroked his hair, and quietly shushed whimpering that he hadn’t even been consciously aware he’d been making. A few minutes later the balloon popped. He wanted to close his eyes, but his face had the exact opposite reaction. Eyes wide open, unblinking, he trembled as his body started to push out its contents into the back of his diaper. “Mmmm..mmmm!” He sucked on the pacifier and hugged Mia’s thigh as it happened. “Muhmmmmm -muhmmmm!” It came in quick little spasms and waves, his diaper getting heavier and heavier with each. “That’s right,” Mia cooed, sounding more and more motherly with each passing second. She stroked his hair and kissed the top of Vincent’s head while he helplessly filled his already wet pants. “Just let it happen. Let me have this.” She rubbed his ears and kissed his forehead. “Make Mommy a present.” It might have been the drugs in the milk, or it might have been the weird ass couple of days he’d just had, but those last few words were all Vincent Vega needed to both finish pushing out the mess in the back of him and for him to blow a load in the front of his pants. “Mommeeeeeeee!” Exhausted and aching, Vincent’s knees caved and he fell back onto his bum, making the mess spread out. He didn’t care, flopping back spread eagle with the dumbest look on his face. Cooly, calmly, as if this were all routine for her, Mia took the second diaper off the top of the stack she’d made, along with the wipes and powder. “Let’s get you changed.” Vincent laid there in a drug and orgasm induced haze while the boss’s wife untaped his loaded diaper for him. She went to work wiping him down, the cool of the wipes feeling nice against the heat of his loins. He popped a thumb in his mouth and started sucking. At least he didn’t have to clean himself up. Silver lining and all that. She pushed his knees back to his stomach and started wiping his ass down. That was something no girl had ever done for him. Not a girl that he’d wanted to sleep with. Yikes, he hoped he wouldn’t need therapy after this. “Glad you got that all out of you,” Mia said, balling the diaper up into a putrid plastic ball. He hadn’t even had time to consider whether that might be the end or not, when she slipped the replacement under him. A cloud of powder enveloped his lower half, and just like that the diaper was brought up between him and held tight until she’d adjusted the tapes just right. Vincent sighed, feeling suddenly sleepy. A clean diaper felt so much better after a dirty one. “That was fast.” “Course it was fast,” Mia said. “You never know when a little guy is gonna end up peeing all over everything, even during the middle of a change. So you gotta make like a baby tomato and catch up.” Mia picked up the used diaper and took it back to the kitchen. There’d be a lot of explaining to do if Marsellus found one of those in his kitchen garbage. That was a problem for later. A problem for Mommy Mia to take care of. This whole thing had been hers from the start; he had been hers from the start. “So what now?” Vincent asked after she’d washed her hands and come back. She took a seat on the floor next to him, and maneuvered his head back into her lap. “Why don’t we just enjoy the silence again.” She booped him on the nose with her finger. “Wait for the drugs to get out of your system.” “What if I...you know?” “We’ve got more diapers.” “Can I get my binky back?” Mia opened her blouse. “You’ve been a good baby. If you promise not to bite, I’ll give you something else to suck on.” Oh yeah. This was gonna be a good night. .

Time is meaningless when you’re dead. “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun,” that stupid song went, “We’ll no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.” They had the right of it, or so Isabelle felt, but they were completely wrong too. Time is a construct. Any idiot trying to seem sophisticated or smart will say that, usually before giggling smugly and then telling you what time it is. It’s true though. Time is just a way of marking or noticing changes outside oneself that occur due to external and internal forces. Time is what people ascribe to noticing patterns such as the seasons, growth, maturity, entropy, and death. Time is attaching logic and other basic cause and effect relationships to oneself. Time was how mortal minds cataloged and tracked basic predictable changes. When dead, you’re out of time. Literally outside of it. Upon death, ten seconds and ten thousand years were equally relevant and long and important to each other. The rules and predictability that govern the passage of time cease and loop back around on each other. Someone in Heaven experiencing that Amazing Grace would be in such a state of perpetual bliss and nothing about that bliss would change or shift to the point that ten thousand years would be as inconsequential to them as a single day. Time has no meaning or necessity upon death. That’s how eternity worked. That’s what the song meant. That was how it was for Isabelle. Literally outside of time. It was the only way she could comprehend her current eternal situation. Isabelle wasn’t in Heaven, at least not any Heaven she would have selected for herself. “Wakey wakey,” came an overly cheerful voice from elsewhere in the room. “Time to get up!” The woman whom Isabelle knew only as ‘Mommy’ popped her head suddenly over the railing that defined the outer border of Isabelle’s crib . “I hope you slept well, Izzy! We’ve got a busy day ahead!” Mommy’s voice was always cheery and bright sounding, her eyes bright and possessed of the curiosity and intensity that a housecat paid to a lizard. Isabelle was the lizard. Isabelle squalled from her spot on the mattress, her tiny yet chubby hands balled up into impotent fists as she screamed up at Mommy; hammering the crib mattress beneath her with her fists and feet. She couldn’t so much as roll over onto her side, and it had everything and nothing to do with the bulky infant’s diaper wrapped around the girl’s hips. “I know,” Mommy cooed. “I know.” She reached down and picked the tiny blob up off the crib’s mattress. A tiny blob: That’s all Isabelle was first thing in the morning and last thing at night. She had no other choice. “You want your breakfast. First, let me check your pants, Little Miss Squirmy.” Isabelle continued to squall while Mommy held the entirety of her in just one arm and pulled back the rear waistband of her diaper. It was more of a scream than a cry, newborns couldn’t properly cry. Mommy repositioned Isabelle into a cradle. “You definitely need a change,” she said. “But not quite yet. We’ll wait till after breakfast.” Inwardly, Isabelle’s heart sank. So that’s how this particular morning was going to go. Sometimes she’d be changed first thing and then given breakfast. Sometimes she’d be fed and then changed. Sometimes she’d be whisked out of the house in a pretend rush wearing the same diaper she woke up in. She hated those mornings the most. Isabelle never knew ahead of time which it would be, and nothing she did seemed to matter. Time didn’t matter. “That means you get to eat sooner! Isn’t that good?” Newborns are all but incapable of expressing any emotion beyond quiet or screaming. Isabelle chose screaming. That didn’t affect Mommy one bit. “Yeah,” she said. “Someone’s hungry. Someone needs her morning titty.”’ The air rushed by like a rollercoaster and Isabelle was screaming like it. Her gumless mouth resembled a caught fish in so many ways. Unperturbed, Mommy opened her pink bathrobe and exposed her nipple. Isabelle felt the tit brush up against her cheek and her mouth automatically turned and latched on, greedily sucking at the breastmilk. “There. That’s better.” It was and it wasn’t. Her infant body felt an animal level of satisfaction in the suckling the same way one feels when scratching an itch. The actions taken though were highly involuntarily. Her mouth and tongue suckled and explored the nipple and downed the creamy fat filled milk in the same way that her knee spasmed when tapped with a hammer. Speaking of involuntary, Isabelle heard herself grunt slightly as her body pushed out a soft mushy mass into the seat of her nighttime diaper. Her bottom lit up with pain and itching as her persistent low-level rash made itself known. Mommy peeked back in and examined the mess for herself. “Good girl,” she said. “Knew I was right. If I’d have changed you first before breakfast I’d just have to change you again.” Isabelle got out the tiniest scream as she was switched over to the other breast. “And it would probably have been a much bigger mess to clean up,” she said as she let out a pleasant sounding sigh and patted Isabelle’s mushy bottom. The pats were simultaneously affectionate and agonizing as each pat further inflamed her sensitive skin. The most annoying part was that Mommy was right. The baby didn’t wince or flinch. She couldn’t. She just kept sucking on Mommy’s tit, her body operating on pure instinct, heedless of the fact that it was in a thoroughly used diaper. She didn’t care either. The diapers, she decided, were the symptom of a much bigger problem. It was awful being so completely out of control of her own body. It sucked being Mommy’s personal plaything every single day and not knowing what she’d be subjected to. It sucked being dead. “Okay,” Mommy said. “All done. Time for burps! Can you give me some burps?” She propped Isabelle up over her enormous shoulder and started gently patting the newborn’s back. Isabelle was tempted to keep her mouth closed and make the gas bubbles come out slower; possibly hold her breath. It might make things difficult. Mommy must have anticipated it. “Give me some burps and maybe you’ll get a bigger diaper,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet with the devil’s bargain.. That was all it took for Isabelle to give in. “Urp! Er. Urp.” The gas bubbles came out in funny and nearly inaudible pops. Petite little things, just like Isabelle tended to be this time of morning. Only herself and Mommy could have possibly heard them. “URP!” Mommy readjusted the girl to look at her. “Oh! That was a big one! Good girl!” Against her will, Isabelle allowed herself a feeling of pride, and with it hope. Said hope was rewarded on the changing table. The velcro tabs on Isabelle’s diaper came undone and her legs were lifted into the air by the ankles while Mommy wiped her down and cleaned her up. Isabelle tried not to inhale the scent of own mess, but it was inescapable. It wasn’t that bad, actually. When it was only breastmilk in her system and her digestive tract was functionally under a month old, the poop smelled more like warm dairy than anything else. Extremely bearable. What wasn’t bearable was the constant teasing and taunting from Mommy. “Such a good baby!” she said. “Getting so big! Just was a wiiiiiiddle fussy cuz she wanted her Mommy’s milk. That got her tum tum moving right along and she made Mommy a present. Yes she did! Yes she did!” She finished wiping the newborn down, balled up the used diaper and threw it away. “You’re gonna be such a big girl someday. Talkin’ and going to school and even using the potty all by yourself!” A wicked gleam shone in Mommy’s eyes as she unfolded the new diaper and slid it under. “But not today!” Isabelle laid back while Mommy rubbed in diaper cream and dusted on baby powder. She was still too weak to lift her head. Hopefully that would change soon. At least the cream gave her some respite from the rash. She couldn’t feel herself growing there on the changing table with her legs up in the air. Never could. Living people never felt it either, but it still happened. Isabelle’s growth happened much more quickly, even if it was just as subtle. The changes started as soon as Mommy lowered Isabelle’s bottom down onto the soft padding of the fresh, but much larger diaper. Dark hair sprouted out of Isabelle’s head, making her realize just how cold her skull had been moments before. She moaned and whimpered a little as a few fresh teeth sprang out of her delicate gums. Yes! That meant that she was at least a crawler! Her excitement dimmed, naturally, when the pain stopped and her mouth still resembled a Jack-O-Lantern. Finally, she was able to crane her head to the side and look at herself. Mommy had a strategically positioned mirror angled towards the changing table, just so Isabelle could see herself as Mommy tended to her. Still pudgy, but there was muscle to it. Just not the lean meat of a preschooler that she’d been vainly craving forever. Mommy finished diapering her, bringing the front up and tucking the sides down over Isabelle’s non-existent hips snugly enough so that the back ends could fold over to the front and be taped on. “There we go!” This, among so many other reasons, was why Isabelle knew she was dead. Everyday she’d wake up as a newborn, Mommy would change her into a different sized diaper, dress her into matching baby clothes, and Isabelle’s body would shift to fit. Then every night, when frustration after frustration had taken its toll, she’d go back into a fresh nighttime diaper meant for a newborn, be breastfed, and then find herself lowered into her crib. Her body matched the clothes she was in, and she ended and started each day as the same relative ‘age’. Those were the only rules; everything else was seemingly random and inconsistent. Some days she’d be a newborn all day. Others she’d be a crawler, or a sitter, or a cruiser, or a walker, or just shy of preschool. But she never got old enough to be in anything other than diapers. Diapers: She supposed that was the other consistency. That was her own personal Ten Thousand Years. Always diapers. Never training pants. Certainly not big girl panties. Those weren’t meant for her. Ten Thousand Years. Maybe that’s how long Isabelle had been doing this. Maybe longer. Maybe shorter. Perhaps it had only been ten seconds and in real time her body was still cooling in her death bed or driver’s seat or bleeding out in the street. Time didn’t matter. Isabelle didn’t remember how she’d died. It’d been so long from her perspective that she’d totally forgotten. And if forgetting had bothered her, she’d forgotten being bothered by forgetting it too. She was dead, and to be dead one had to be alive at some point. It was academic really. Just like to be alive, one had to be born and have been a baby at some point. Similarly, Isabelle knew she’d been an adult at some point in her life. It had been so long since she’d been one though, that she couldn’t remember herself as one and any lingering traces felt more like imagination to her than memory. She knew she used to be an adult and had worn big girl panties and had had a job and her own house and gone potty all by herself and had sex. She knew that she’d once been a woman with breasts and hips and curves and hair that went down to her back and a voice that did more than just squeal and whine all the time. Problem was she couldn’t remember it. In the face of eternity, a human mind can only remember so much with any sort of clarity. For the last however many forevers, every waking moment of Isabelle’s existence had been filled with diapers, bottles, highchairs, playpens, onesies, pacifiers, and so on and so forth. Everything even remotely less infantile was all academic at this point. She was left constantly missing something that she could no longer remember having. Nostalgia felt like envy. That’s how she knew that this existence wasn’t heaven. Mommy wasn’t her real Mommy, obviously. Isabelle had forgotten her last name, but some part of her still knew how to profile based on appearance. To put it bluntly and engage in stereotype: with her dark hair and caramel colored skin, Isabelle’s last name while living might have been Garcia or Sanchez. Mommy’s milky white complexion and strawberry blonde hair marked her as more of a Rogers or a Smith. The woman who diapered her every day was certainly not the woman who had given birth to Isabelle the first time around. Thinking of Mommy as a mother in the adoptive sense didn’t feel right either. She might act kind, but Mommy never lost the malicious edge that convinced Isabelle her sole purpose was to taunt and tempt and tease, and she was magnificent at her job. If passive aggression, condescension, and infantilization were a person, Mommy would have been it. Mommy wasn’t a person though. She was a demon of some sort. That much was clear. Isabelle only referred to her as ‘Mommy’ because she literally didn’t have another name for the beast that breastfed her. In all her memory, she had been given no other name. Even other denizens of this fragrant scented hellscape called the woman ‘Mommy’. Mommy wasn’t her mother. Mommy wasn’t her caregiver. Mommy wasn’t even a person. Mommy was just…Mommy. It was oddly appropriate given how few children at Isabelle’s perpetually young ‘age(s)’ knew their parents’ real names or understood complex family dynamics. Given that this place was Hell maybe it wasn’t so odd. Mommy pulled Isabelle into a seated position on the changing table and leaned away to grab a baby dress. “Let’s get my busy Izzy dressed for the day. Can’t just have you going around all nakied!” From her seated position, the girl shuddered. She hated that name. It grinded against her brain like no other, and every adult bodied being she encountered insisted on calling her that. A spare thought: Hey!. She could sit up by herself. That was something. In the few seconds she had to herself, Isabelle began a sort of diagnostic of the body she’d been granted. Looking down at the new diaper she had on, she saw some lines that she knew meant numbers, but it had been so long she’d forgotten what scribble meant what number. The same for letters. That was no help. Decoration wise, it was mostly white with pictures of fish dotting the waistband. There were a few fish stencils going down the cloth-like cover, but that didn’t offer any clues to how old she was supposed to be, either. Experimentally, she squeezed her thighs together. The nice new diaper was still pretty thick between her legs, but not so puffy as to inhibit movement. That meant she could probably walk or cruise. Babies who were less ambulatory had comparatively thicker diapers down here. She might have a chance. It still had that yellow line down the middle. She still didn’t know what that line was for, but she knew that the diapers for the older kids, the ones who were precariously close to potty training, didn’t have these little streaks down the center. Damn. Rarely. Very rarely, Mommy would dress Isabelle as a toddler or preschooler, someone who could talk more than a few words, could potentially feed themselves, and the only thing keeping them from doing something ‘bigger’ was lack of ambition or experience; a little kid on the verge of becoming a big kid. That was the trick. That was the torture. Isabelle became whatever age best suited the clothes she was wearing. That meant that if Isabelle could manage to get into clothing more befitting a big kid- or better yet, an adult- she’d be freed from the eternal prison her body had been reduced to. No more pissing and shitting herself uncontrollably. No more drooling and teething. No more wobbly legs or knees scuffed from crawling on the carpet all day. No more highchairs or cribs or bouncers or exersaucers. No more diapers. She’d be a big girl. There was the rub. That’s why this was Hell. She’d never managed to pull it off. Not once. Not that she could remember. And every day, a new opportunity would present itself to her…and she’d fail. If she could get over it and accept her lot, she might be okay. If she could, though, it wouldn’t be Hell. Might as well see what she was getting to work with this time. Isabelle ran her tongue over her few teeth. Time for a systems check. “Ma-ma?” she said. “Yes Izzy?” Mommy cooed, returning with a dress. Basic communication? Check. “Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma! GAAAAAA! Buh!” More advanced forms of vocalization? Negative. She was a babbler. Probably not even a year old. “Ma-na-ga-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ca-ma-ma!’ None of the other words she was intending would come out right. She’d been trying to recite what she could remember of the ABC song. She could still remember the words despite not recognizing the letters. “Somebody’s quite the chatterbox,” Mommy replied. “Good. Maybe soon you’ll say your first real word today.” That made Isabelle’s blood boil something fierce. She’d had an uncountable number of first words, and not just because it was getting harder and harder to count. Isabelle held her babbling tongue for Mommy to dress her. The order of the day was a black and white checkered dress with a white peter pan collar. Mommy slid the dress over Isabelle’s head and guided her arms into the sleeves pulling it down. It was a snug fitting number but not uncomfortably tight. That could be bad. Onesies, rompers, and just plain old t-shirts and shorts were usually indicators that she was expected to crawl. Crawlers didn’t get clothes that might trip up or get snagged on their knees. She couldn’t help but smile when Mommy boosted her slightly so that the hem of her dress could settle. It was still short enough that it didn’t quite cover the very bottom of her diaper but Isabelle had the feeling that it would drag on the ground were she to crawl. She probably wasn’t just a crawler. “What am I gonna do with all this hair?” Mommy asked. A rhetorical question meant to torment Isabelle, obviously. Isabelle got her answer in the form of a matching bow that kept her raven hair up in a single pony tail on the top of her head. Gingerly, she reached up and patted the single tuft. The ponytail was pulled just tight enough to be uncomfortable, tugging ever so slightly at the hair. One of the most precious memories Izzy had left to her was the time she’d have enough hair to put up into pigtails. Her dress had gone down to her knees, a pair of tightshad gone over her diaper and her and her mouth had been coordinated enough for her to scream things like “Big girl! Potty! No diaper!” She must have been close to two. Mommy had slipped up and left one of her shirts from the laundry folded up on the living room couch. To this day, Isabelle held fast in the belief that she could have fully grown up if she’d only gotten her head through the right hole in time instead of getting all tangled up in the comparative circus tent. Her chief tormentor slipped some socks onto Isabelle’s feet and declared “That’s good enough,” brushing her hands. “Come on Izzy, let’s get busy.” Socks. Of course it was just socks. The demon woman liked the subtle nuance of torment. Shoes would have been a giveaway. “Up we go!” Isabelle was on the suburban monster’s hip, but not very long. The trip was less than thirty steps to the playroom. Where most middle class families might have a living room or a family room, a space beyond the dinner table for family members to congregate and sit; Isabelle’s personal Hell had a playroom. It was a white walled space decorated with colorful dollar store alphabet and number posters that were just out of tiny arms’ reach. Much of the floor was covered with foam mats for children to plot and tromp and run around on and two out of four walls were stacked with toy bins full of colorful but functionally useless pieces of plastic or wood. Another wall was dominated with plastic playsets to simulate kitchens and grills and other suitably ‘adult’ things. The final one had a mesh playpen and a spare changing table that was primarily occupied by Isabelle when the sun was up. Within the hollow fiction of Isabelle’s padded prison, Mommy ran an at home daycare. Isabelle was always the only one who wasn’t at least in training pants. With complete automaticity, Mommy stepped over the baby gate and into the playroom. “Here we are, Izzy!” she chirped. “All ready to start another wonderful day!” Another wonderful day Isabelle’s ass. In short order, the eternal child was placed back in the playpen, bottom first. Stone walls did not a prison make nor iron bars a cage. Mesh netting and fabric over steel frames more than did the job, especially when the playpen was empty of toys or stuffies or anything other than Isabelle herself. “You be good, Izzy.” Mommy said. “Mommy will be right back after she freshens up.” Isabelle tried to say something sarcastic, but the words only came out as sleepy burbling. Sarcasm was hard to convey through tone alone. Mommy gave her another kiss for her trouble and flounced out of sight. Isabelle huffed and sighed, staring down at her nearly bare legs. They might work. They might not. If she was going to be stuck with a body that could only stand for a matter of seconds before tumbling back on its rump, she might as well find out now while no one was around to hear or see her struggle. Learning forward, Isabelle cocked her legs into a kind of W-sit that gradually shifted so that she was on her hands and knees. Okay. So she was at least a crawler. Her dress still dragged on the ground. Experimentally she shuffle crawled a few paces in her pen, feeling her knees scrape and catch on the dress; sometimes stopping her so that she’d have to adjust. Not optimal for crawling. That gave Isabelle some hope. Mommy never dressed her inappropriately for her body’s abilities. That would have ruined the game, Isabelle supposed. It was only torture if the girl thought she could win. Isabelle proceeded to curl her toes and push herself back onto the balls of her feet. Her eyes widened in discomfort for a moment before catching her balance. A sliver more of pushing would have sent her cannonballing back onto her bottom. Balance was okay, but only just so. With a nearly explosive push from her legs, Isabelle rocketed herself up to a standing position. Yes! She tried to maintain her position and counted. One…two…three…five…eight….no six!...seven… The girl started to tip forward around then and was forced to put one clumsy foot in front of the other until she steadied herself on the playpen railing. She caught her breath and held herself there, feeling much more secure and in control. Okay. Okay. Good crawling motor skills. Decent ability to balance and stand. Walking was limited at best; cruising by grabbing onto something preferred, but she might be able to manage. She could work with this. She could definitely work with this. She could pilot this body today. Mommy would have to be more on guard today. DING-DONG!. The doorbell rang, and Isabelle heard Mommy’s voice echoing through the house “Coooooming!” She called. “Always early. Never fails,” she muttered. Isabelle’s legs started to shake from muscle fatigue. Isabelle took a mental note of it and managed to set herself down quietly back at the bottom of the pen. That was another factor. Plenty of times she’d gotten painfully close to victory only to have a padded thud alert Mommy. She didn’t bother trying to tip over the playpen or climb out of it. That wasn’t going to happen. Not by herself. Not in this body. She didn’t have the weight or the athleticism to credibly try. She’d have to be clever and manufacture a way out, preying on Mommy’s need to play the roll or by manipulating one of the other kids into helping her. Speaking of which… “Well helloooo!” Mommy said just out of sight. “Hello Missus Izzy’s Mommy!” a little boy’s voice answered. “Hi Damien, would you like to come in and play?” “Uh huh!” Flapping slapping sneaker steps signaled the child’s approach before Isabelle even saw him. The towheaded boy with a bowl cut couldn’t have been older than three but to Isabelle he was regularly a blur and a giant by comparison. “Lemme in! Lemme in! Lemme in! Lemme in! Lemme in! I wanna plaaaaaaaay!” Damien was always hyper and always very, very loud. “Okay,” Mommy called and laughed. “Kind of makes you miss the days when he’d cry as soon as he was out of your arms. They grow up so fast.” Mommy was supposedly talking to Daminen’s mother. Isabelle had never seen or heard the other woman speak or see her or Damian in any of the ‘out on the town’ tortures that she could remember. Damien was here now, though. “Have a good day at work!” Mommy called out. The door hinges squealed as the door shut and Mommy came back up. “Good morning, Damien!” “Lemme in! Lemme in! Play! Plaaaaaay!” Mommy smiled and chuckled good-naturedly. “Okay. Okay. Go ahead. Go play. Just be careful with Izzy.” Solemnly, Damien nodded. “Be careful wif the baby.” “That’s right.” Mommy lifted Damien up by the armpits and gently placed him down on the other side of the impassable wooden lattice wedged into the playroom’s threshold. Like he did every morning he was there, Damien blurred up to the side of the playpen and waved his arm with speed and coordination that Isabelle could only dream of. “Hiiii Izzy!” Meekly, Isabelle waved back with one pudgy arm. Damien didn’t say bye as much as he screamed and ran to the toy bins, dumping them all out on the floor before bending over and picking something out to play with. Damien was worse than the terrible twos. Damien was terrifying. Yet from her spot in the bare playpen, Isabelle felt more than a twinge of jealousy regarding the blue Pull-Up poking up out of his shorts. The next hour proceeded about as Isabelle expected. In packs of one and two, each of the usual big kid suspects came in, were placed in the playroom, said “Hi Izzy” and then started running around like crazy. Besides Damien, there was Lucien who had a full set of teeth, Selene who was by turns a sweetheart and a total brat; Seth who was a big kid among the big kids, Carmilla who had so many accidents in her pants that she should have been put back into diapers alongside Isabelle, and the twins Peter and Pandora. As with so many other things about being dead, Isabelle had more questions than answers. Were these actual children? People like her that had fully lost their minds after several eternities? Constructs and simulations? Demons like Mommy? None of that had been answered, and on the rare occasion that Isabelle could form coherent words, she didn’t think to ask. She was afraid to. These tiny terrors, whatever they really were, were the closest things she had to friends or consistency in all of existence. Whether she was a newborn blob, a roller, crawler, butt scooter, a cruiser, a toddler, or just a month or two behind Carmilla, they always stayed the same. Isabelle took comfort in that. It made them part of the game to her; part of the vast puzzle to figure out. “Hi Izzy!” Lucien said for the fourth or seventh time and ran away to play kitchen for not too terribly long. Lucien was particularly unfocused this morning. He ran so fast that one of his coal black sneakers slipped right off of him. Lucien stopped mid stride, frowned and looked over his shoulder. Instead of doubling back and picking up his shoe, he scraped the other one off with his foot and ran off. Isabelle’s tiny eyes widened with possibility. This! This was her chance! A big kid’s sneakers totally counted! If she could get those on…! She rocketed back up to her feet, grabbing the pack-and-play’s railing for extra balance. She let loose a guttural grunt. “Uh!” She arched her right arm up and over the railing, reaching out for the pair of shoes. “Uh! Uuuuuh! Gaaaaaaaaah!” The sneakers weren’t even close to the pen and Isabelle had no means of getting any closer. She might as well have been Luke Skywalker upside down in the wampa’s lair willing the Force to bring his lightsaber to him. That wasn’t happening, but neither was it what Isabelle was counting on. Selene stopped running and screaming and took notice. “Hi Izzy!” she said. She did not run off. Good! Selene was in one of her less bratty moods. She wanted to be helpful. “Uh! Ga ga ga!” Selene frowned, her curly, dirty blonde locks tumbling into her face. “Ba-ba? You want your ba-ba?” She looked behind her, and much to Isabelle’s eternal frustration, she looked right past the sneakers laying haphazardly on the floor. “Sorry. I don’t see your ba-ba.” “Nnnnn!” No! Not ‘ba-ba’! “Ga ga ga! Uh!” This wasn’t rocket science! Selene kept scanning the floor. Her brow raised and she pointed at one of the discarded shoes “This? Do you want this?” Isabelle gripped the top rail with both hands and started bending her knees, bouncing and bobbing. “Baca!” She babbled. “Bububububub!” She made sure to put her biggest goofiest pumpkin toothed grin. “Ooooooh!” Selene bent over and flashed her robin’s egg blue cotton panties in Isabelle’s face. The tormented soul didn’t care. Grabbing both shoes, Selene started for the playpen. Closer. Closer! Yes. Yessss! “Ga-ga-ga!” Izzy was making all the happy baby noises. Any minute now she’d be making happy big girl noises on top of it! How old was Lucien supposed to be? He rarely had potty accidents, that was for sure. Selene lobbed the first one in over the playpen.. “Here ya go!” “Hoooooooo!” One more! One more! “Hooooooo!” “You want the other one?” Just over Selene’s shoulder, Isabelle saw Mommy come back in with a plastic grocery bag. It swayed and its contents lightly clinked and rattled against one another while she stepped over the baby gate. “Hooooooo!” “Oka- “Drinks!” Mommy called. “Come get your juice!” Selene’s head whipped around. She dropped the shoe and dashed over to Mommy, while the demon handed out juice boxes and sippy cups to sticky reaching fingers. Over their heads, Mommy smiled and offered a sly wink. Damn it! It definitely wouldn’t count if she couldn’t get both shoes! Mommy finished by adding insult to the injury. She waded through the thirsty toddlers and lifted Isabelle, out of the playpen. “Awww, can’t leave busy Izzy over here by her lonesome!” she cooed. Down from the bottom of the bag, she produced a baby bottle full of milk and shoved it into the girl’s face. Izzy had no choice but to accept the rubber teat and start suckling. Her body went on a kind of autopilot and her hands reached up to grasp the cylinder. “Such a big girl!” Mommy lied. “Holding your bottle all by yourself!” She lowered Isabelle down to the floor where the girl helplessly emptied her bottle with almost the exact same intensity as she’d latched onto Mommy’s breasts. At least this milk was chilled… Isabelle finished her bottle and let loose an annoyed growl. Lucien’s other shoe was right next to her and completely useless. The other was stuck in the playpen, denying her the set. None of her big kid friends had the ability to climb back into the playpen from the outside and Mommy was keeping watch to prevent them tipping it over. She’d be in the playroom with them until she snuck out to make lunch. That other shoe might as well be a world away. Time to come up with another plan. Isabelle took stock of the room, looking for an opening. That shoe idea was a good one. Too bad she’d been denied it. Her rash was starting to itch again. It made it hard to focus. “Pee-peeeeee! Damien was in the middle of the floor, pants down around his ankles. True enough, he was peeing. Problem was he wasn’t aiming for any kind of potty “I’m going pee-peeee!” “Oh!” Mommy dashed and grabbed a potty to catch the stream and minimize the damage. This is why so much of the play room was covered in foam tiles; easier to clean and replace than carpet. “Good job Damien!” Mommy said. “But next time go pee-pee in the potty!” It was things like this that made Isabelle question whether or not her daycare playmates were in on the cruel joke or not. A bit of blue caught her eye and she turned her head. Damien had ripped open the sides of his Pull-Up right off and tossed it aside. “Hmmmm….” Izzy wondered. Could she wear that? Would his broken Pull-Up count? Would she have to put it back together? Still pondering, she turned her head in the opposite direction towards the changing table. There was a small pack of boys Pull-Ups on the upper shelf shoved in the back behind several stacks of diapers. Unlike Carmella’s pink Pull-Ups, the bag had already been ripped open with a few of the not-diapers poking out. The dead girl considered today’s pudgy, indelicate fingers. The odds of her being able to sneak a training pant out and slide it up over her diaper without getting caught a million times over were incredibly low. Would it count if it was a boy’s Pull-Up? She felt and feared there might be some kind of gray area regarding gendered clothing. Seth walked up and patted the girl on the head. “Hi Izzy!” Izzy rolled her eyes. Seth was the oldest and knew it. He was the least likely to help her in any way that mattered. “How are you? Can you say ‘Hi’? Say ‘Hi!” ‘Hi?’ ‘Hiiiiii!” Isabelle grumbled and mumbled her annoyance. “You’ll get there!” He started to go away but stopped before he’d turned all the way around. “Miss Izzy’s Mommy! Miss Izzy’s Mommy!” He shouted. “Izzy needs a change! She’s wet!” Izzy felt her face grow incredibly warm. How had he known before her? She hadn’t even felt it. Curiously, she lifted the hem of her dress and stared at her diaper. The blue line running between her legs told her nothing. Whether by magic or just general atrophy, Izzy’s brain refused to make the connection between the wetness indicator on her diaper changing color and the state of her pants. “Oooooo!” Carmella said. “Busy Izzy is a potty pants!” Mommy scooped Izzy up and carried her over to the changing table. “She’s just a little baby,” Mommy lectured the second littlest girl in the house. “Not a big girl like you.” “Yeah!” Carmella proclaimed. With zero modesty she yanked down her pink shorts and pointed to her training pants. “That’s why I’ve got my-” she gasped. “Oh no my stars! They’re gone!” Carmella waddled over to the nearby pink princess potty. “Such a big girl,” Mommy praised her. “You had an accident but you’re taking care of it yourself!” Isabelle peed her pants and was a baby. Carmella did the same and was praised as a big girl. So unfair! She harrumphed as she was laid down on the changing table and her dress was hiked up. “Ga poo!” The velcro tapes ripped open with a scritch and a scratch. Isabelle shivered as the open air hit her urine soaked diaper area. She couldn’t remember it, but she was sure she missed having pubic hair something fierce. “That’s right baby girl. Let’s get you cleaned up. Babies love having their diapers changed, don’t they?” Izabelle did not dignify this with a response, and instead stewed in silence, only letting out a tiny whimper as the demon woman wiped between her legs. Clad in a denim jumper, the ever curious Pandora toddled up to the side of the changing table “Missus Izzy’s Mommy?” “Yes Pandora?” “Why does Izzy wear diapers?” Oh no. Not now. Izzy slammed her hands into her face in an infantile attempt to hide. Mommy went on wiping and changing. “Because she’s a baby. Babies wear diapers.” “Why?” “Because babies don’t know how to listen to their bodies like big girls do.” Izzy felt her legs crossed and lifted so that her bum could be wiped. “Why?” “Because they're too little. So they wear diapers and when they get wet or stinky, grown-ups clean them up.” The wiping finally stopped. “Why?” “Because it’s our job.” Izzy felt and heard Mommy ball up and toss the old soiled diaper away. “Why doesn’t she just go potty?” Pandora asked. Mommy slipped the new diaper underneath Izzy. “I already told you. She’s not a big girl. She’s a baby. Just like you used to be.” Pandora audibly gasped. “Really?” “Yes ma’am,” Mommy said. “You used to be a little baby just like her, and I changed your diapers.” She added another soothing layer of diaper cream and some powder for good measure. “What happened?” Mommy finished re-diapering Izzy. “You grew up.” “When will Izzy grow up?” Izzy peaked from behind her hands. Mommy answered Pandora but looked directly at the baby. “Someday…maybe. If she wants it badly enough.” She lowered the girl onto the floor on all fours. Annoyed and frustrated, Isabelle tried to push herself back up to her feet. She hated being on her back with her butt up in the air and wanted to get as far away from the changing table as humanly possible, even if it meant her weebling and wobbling until she fell back down. Her body wouldn't cooperate, however. She could get on her hands and knees, but no further. Oh no! Mommy must have changed her into a smaller diaper without her noticing! She could only crawl now. Isabelle probed with her tongue and could swear that she felt fewer of the tiny bumps called teeth than before. No! This wasn’t fair! Mommy wasn’t supposed to switch diaper sizes in the middle of the day. “Waaaaaaaaaaaaah!” she bellowed. Her cries went unheeded, however, mostly because someone was yelling in joy louder than she was crying in anger. “I did iiiiiiit!” Carmella looked almost like the kid on the side of the Pull-Ups box. She sat there on the pink princess potty with her fists raised high up in the air. The biggest difference was that she wasn’t wearing anything below the waist. “I got ‘em pants all the way off!” Isabelle’s eyes felt like they were going to explode. Carmella had taken her shorts all the way off and flung them across the room. More to the point, she’d kicked off her shoes. Today she’d come dressed in flip flops. “Oh Carmella,” Mommy said. “What am I gonna do with you?” Mommy started to trudge to the middle of the playroom and slowly, oh so slowly, bend over to pick up the discarded shorts. This was her chance! Going at the crawling equivalent of a sprint, Izzy shuffled across the carpet, not daring to lift her knees for fear of tripping over her own dress. Flip flops! Literal flip flops! So easy, even a baby could put them on! She wasn’t thrilled about aging up to only Carmella’s stature, but starting potty training was still better than hopelessly diaper dependent. Greedily, Isabelle snatched the things up and rolled onto her back. She didn’t have the coordination to easily shift back to her bottom, and didn’t care. She didn’t need it. The first flip flop went on her foot, no problem! The second did too! She took special care to put her big toe up against the little foam pole near the front that held the straps together. “YUAAAAAAAH!” Her feet did not grow. Nor did her stature. Nothing about her changed at all. She looked at her feet, still pointed to the ceiling and wondered what was wrong. Mommy walked by and snatched the flip flops off with ease. “Ah-ah-ah!” Mommy said. “Musn’t play with other people’s shoes.” She smiled cruelly. “You couldn’t even get them on all the way because of the socks. Flip flops are supposed to go between the toes, not over them.” The socks? The socks. It didn’t count because she was still wearing her socks! Izzy started to wail inconsolably. This only served to land her back in Mommy’s arms as she trembled with rage and frustration. Mommy smoothly teased a pacifer over Isabelle’s lips and gently pushed it into place, holding it with two fingers to muffle Isabelle’s cries . “Good try, baby girl,” Mommy whispered. “Maybe next time.” (The End)

Every story and fortune ever told is just a window into the multiverse by way of kaleidoscope and funhouse mirror. Crossing the great interplanar divide, the signals and actions reverberate until they are recognizable, but just barely. The where might be right, but the when is years or decades or centuries off. The players are seen clearly, but their circumstances misunderstood or misinterpreted and thus things get decidedly…muddled. It’s all left to the receiver of these visions - be they writer or seer - to figure it out and everyone ultimately leaves their own fingerprints on the retelling. That being said this is either a true story that a certain writer and director with the initials J.H. completely misinterpreted, or my own mind has warped events that have happened or will happen across the multiverse even further. You be the judge -P.A. December 24th. The Chicago Suburbs. 671 Lincoln Avenue, to be specific. Eight fifty-five P.M. The sun had gone down and the streetlights had come on hours ago. Everyone who wasn’t on third shift working was partying, already passed out early from too much eggnog, or out of town for the holidays. Nobody was around and if they were they wouldn’t see or hear jack. “And while the cats are away,” Marv said, “the Wet Bandits will play!” There in the van, Harry cast a disgusted look sideways at Marv. “Who the hell says that?” Though shorter and stouter than his literal partner in crime, Harry was infinitely more intimidating. It might have been the Napoleonic complex. “Who the hell are you talkin’ to, huh? Me? I know what we’re doin’, and it sure as hell ain’t playin’!” As tall and hairy and wild as Marv looked- he could easily be a knife wielding maniac on any given subway car, the kind of stranger that children were warned about, the kind that left hook hands dangling from car doors- he was really just a big kid who hadn’t bothered to properly groom himself. He slumped down and said. “Sorry, Harry, I’m just trying to build the mood, ya know? It’s Christmas!” “Yeah,” Harry grumbled. “But we ain’t no Santy Claus.” “That’s right! We’re the Wet Bandits.” Marv pumped the brakes and stared at his companion. “What is it with you, huh? Wet Bandits? Is this a joke to you or somethin’?” “What?” Harry replied, confused. “Everybody’s gotta have a gimmick these days. It’s our calling cards.” Marv shook his head. “You are sick, you know that?” Harry just smiled and hissed laughter. Marv pointed to the house, tonight’s target. “Alright. You ready?” “Yeah. Let’s do this.” Harry cut the engine and the pair opened the doors of their van. Marv shut it less than a second later. “I mean, are you sure about this Harry?” Harry paused. “Yeah. I’m sure I’m sure. This house is the whole reason I started casing this neighborhood. I want that house!” “But there’s a little kid in there, Harry,” Marv said. “And he’s all alone. And it’s Christmas.” He was quickly losing his nerve now that it was go time. “So we’ll gift wrap him and then rob the place!” Harry tried to go but Marv’s hand on his shoulder gave him pause. “Come on, Harry. He’s eight. And he’s home alone…do we really wanna do this?” Harry shirked off Marv’s hand. “He’s eight friggin’ years old and still in diapers. He’s a spoiled little rich kid whose Mommy and Daddy couldn’t even be bothered to toilet train him. What was your life like when you was eight?” Marv wobbled his head to the side, seeing the logic in Harry’s statement. They’d done their research and tailed the kid, from a far enough distance so he didn’t suspect, keeping him just on the horizon. No one else was coming in or out of that house, and every other house in that culdesac they’d already scouted and hit. That was a fact. Having spent so much of their life in and out of prison, the two ne’er do wells were still novices at social media, but had struck lucky when they found a twitter account with shots of the house. No pics of the family, no pics of anyone, but lots of talk about diapers, video games, scout meetings, Mommy, and the like. Kids’ stuff mostly. Something about con for bottle cap collectors or something. The kind of stuff that kids who got beat up were into. They didn’t know what terms like ABDL and AD and NSFW meant. Who did anyways? Kids these days were always shortening things. And what was “Ageplay Age?” Was that like a playgroup thing or something like 7 and up? The kid definitely wasn’t doing himself any favors by saying “8 but still in diapers”. Sheesh! What they did know is that this Kevin kid was frequently alone, and that he had no. Scouting and his social feed. “What I don’t get is why hasn’t anybody called the cops,” Marv wondered aloud. “That’s child neglect.” Harry adjusted his ski cap over his nearly bald head. “Who knows? Maybe he’s got like a roomba babysitter, or his parents ‘zoom’ or whatever. Rich folks are friggin’ strange and can get away with just about anything.” On that, Harry had no idea just how right he was about to be proved. Clad in trenchcoats and with crowbars in hand, the pair of thieves finally climbed out of the van, just outside the targeted house. “So how do you wanna go in?” Marv asked the brains of the operations. Harry spoke quietly and confidently. “We’ll go to the back door. Maybe he’ll let us in. You’ll never know.” “Yeah,” Marv agreed. “He’s a kid. Kids are stupid.” Inside the house a grandfather clock toned the hour, and both Harry and Marv salivated with greed and anticipation. Fancy clocks meant fancy furniture. Fancy furniture meant so much more. This was going to be such a great score. From the outside, their silhouette’s loomed large and intimidating. Good thing that brat already wore diapers. He’d need them tonight. Harry rapped on the outside of the window. “Merry Christmas little fella…” he sang. Even he didn’t think he sounded sincere. He continued anyway, cupping his hand to the back kitchen window while Marv grinned quietly to himself. “We know that you’re in there…and that you’re alllllll alone.” “Yeah kid,” Marv added. “C’mon, open up. It’s Santy Claus…” he looked to Harry. “And his elf!” That made the shorter of the two chuckle lightly. Trouble is they were both envisioning themselves as St. Nick and the other as the little helper. “We’re not gonna hurt you,” Harry lied in the same sing-song cadence. Harry kept piling it on. “No, no. We’ve got some real nice presents for you.” “Be a good little fella now, and open the door!” Harry was smiling, to be sure, but not because of the Christmas spirit in his heart. The smile didn’t last long. Shink! Pain! Sharp! Stinging! Pain! Like a mosquito made love to a dentist drill and the bastard love child played left tackle for the Bears. All concentrated right in the short man’s dick. “Mother! Fffu…raggan maggan ruzza! It hurt so much he couldn’t even properly curse, and Harry knew how to cuss in two different languages. Waddled and wobbled out into the backyard, hoping on some instinctive level that the snow would numb the incredible burning pain he was being subjected to. Marv bumbled after his compatriot, trying to parse out Harry’s hoarse, mumbling, whispering non-curses. “What?” he asked. “What? What happened?” “Get that little-!” Harry managed to grunt out and thumb in the direction of the back door, before continuing to tend to his privates. Why was it hurting so much? Marv turned from his friend back to the rear entrance, trying to puzzle things out. Where had the attack come from? Aha! They hadn’t paid the doggy door any mind, but it was so obvious that even a Marv could figure out the logical course of events that had transpired. As Marv ‘smartly’ got down on his hands and knees, Harry grabbed a hold of something sharp and pointy. He’d thought he’d been shot downstairs with a b.b. but the tiny cylinder he pulled out of the front of his pants said otherwise. A needle? Like from a tranq gun? Who the hell gave a kid a tranq gun? Meanwhile, Marv stuck his head through the flap of the doggy door and got his first good view. Straight down the barrel of a gun. “Hello,” a new voice said. Shink! Pain! Literally blinding pain! Like somebody loaded a tattoo gun with a railroad spike and drove it right between Marv’s eyes! Marv flopped backwards and started writing on the ground, screaming in agony, gripping at the needle that had embedded itself in his forehead. It might have been the excruciating stabbing sensation, something inside the needle’s payload or just Marv’s natural lack of mental acuity, but in that moment, Marv completely forgot everything about the previous two seconds beyond the barrel of that gun and the excruciating pain. It didn’t occur to him that the “hello” he’d heard didn’t sound like it was coming from an eight year old or that the person holding the gun, even at a glance, was much much too big to be in diapers. What Marv did realize was redundant and stated too late. “The little jerk is armed!” “That’s it! That’s it!” Harry shrieked. “I’m goin’ around the front! You go down to the basement!” ******************************************************************************************************* It was a rough trip for both of them. Literally. SSSSK-THUNK! Harry found out that the walkway up to the front door had been iced over the hard way. He didn’t stumble as much as completely fall flat on his back, spread eagle, resembling a certain cartoon coyote. It was like those bad comedians who slipped on banana peels. Nobody slipped like that! Evidently they did. Harry was in no mood to do bad pratfalls, yet here he was on the icy pavement… Ka-THUNK, Ka-THUNK, Ka-THUNK, Ka-THUNK! Marv likewise discovered that the steps to the basement had been tampered with to similar results. He skidded down them, his ass and then the back of his head meeting each and every step on the way down. KLUNK! The closed basement door stopped his slide, and for a sweet second he was only semi-conscious on the ground, curled up in the fetal position. The impact with the door caused a light smattering of snow to dust itself onto Marv’s still frame. If they had chosen at that moment to leave, they might have been able to lick their wounds, cut their losses and burgle another day. It was a potent mixture of pride, greed, anger, and perhaps something in those needles that made them press on. ********************************************************************************************** On wobbling, newborn deer legs, Marv climbed to his feet at the bottom of the icy stairwell leading to the basement; using his crowbar to grab ahold of the indentation on a window pane and pull himself up. Grunting and groaning, he struggled up until the soles of his feet were touching the ground instead of the door. Any relief he felt was incredibly short lived. He barely had time to peer through the less than paper thin curtains and get a lay of the inside before his feet slipped again and he plummeted back down. CHHHHHHHUN! His face got a minor case of road rash, skidding down door and scraping against the cement at the bottom. A low moan leaked from his lips. This was going to be one of those nights…except he’d never had to go through a night like this in his life. He felt like a one-year-old trying to learn to walk. At least the first time around he didn’t have so far to fall… Also he basically had a pillow in his pants to cushion his fall back then. ********************************************************************** Harry whipped around to all fours, growling and grasping at the iron hand railing. “That smart alek!” he hissed to himself. His hands were sure but his feet were doubly the opposite, making his top and bottom halves at war with each other, scrambling and skidding around. It might have been easier to just tromp through the grass and snow up to the front door. Such a thought didn’t have time to register to Harry, however, as like his compatriot he was sent slipping backwards, ass over tea kettle and legs to the sky onto the back of his noggin. Folded like a book, it’s a good thing the wind was knocked out of Harry’s lungs. The words that would have come out of him would have been something that no child should hear. As his kneecaps came away from his chest and he laid there spread-eagle on the street, Harry resolved right then and there that he was gonna get the little so-and-so for putting him through this. ************************************************************************************************** The doorknob! Marv used his crowbar to pull himself up by the door knob! Success! Struggling and slipping, he regained his standing position, and as he had done nearly a hundred times before, he leaned in and tried to force open the door with his crowbar. No locks or hinges snapped.The wood cracked and splintered but barely creaked, as if the door wasn’t putting up any resistance. It wasn’t putting up any resistance. At all. That’s when Marv remembered to check the doorknob. And found it unlocked and the door to the basement open… It was dark inside, but to Marv’s eyes it looked like your average suburban basement: Ladders and gardening supplies, and power tools, and such. Even in the dim light, Marv could make out the large blocky shapes of either old or half done projects. He saw highchairs and crib railings leaned against the far wall. Was that an unfinished rocking horse? Kids’ parents must be trying really hard for another baby or else they were just hoarders. Quiet as a cat he slid through the darkness until he found a lightbulb. He pulled the cord gently and was more than a little befuddled when the entire light fixture hit the floor. Weird. He hadn’t pulled it that hard. A length of cord was falling down right behind it, coiling up like a snake. The bulb hadn’t been in the ceiling but dangling from the cord instead. What was on the other end? Marv looked up into the old laundry chute directly above him. WHAM! PFFFFFFFF! THUNK! The flour sack that rammed into his skull hit him like a clothes iron, exploding and bursting all over him while sending him sprawling back to the floor. It wasn’t particularly hard, but anything dropping from the height of two stories with that kind of mass was going to be a piledriver. A man relying on more of his brain to function would have been killed. But not Marv. Bruised as he was, the powder in the sack masked it nicely. It wasn’t flour though. It was sweeter smelling, of flowers and lilacs. And for some reason, it reminded him of a baby's bottom. Through his throbbing headache, the thief felt like he’d had thick sunscreen overdone all over his head and face. He opened his eyes and coughed out a mushroom cloud of the stuff. Disgusting! At least he smelled good. The raw chafing marks from where his cheeks had dragged across the doorframe felt better too. ************************************************************************************************************* Harry had not yet given up on sieging the front of this suburban castle. His likely concussion only emboldened him. “All right! That’s it you little…you little…son of a-...” Wow, it was hard to even think of a swear world. Harry must’ve hit his head harder than he thought. “Little brat.” The shorter of the two burglars was no more graceful in his second attempt, but much more determined and stubborn besides. He leaned hard to the left on the railing while his legs splayed hard to the right. It was hard work but he eventually got all the way to the door, growling and panting for breath. It’s amazing what determination, a low center of gravity, and good upper body strength can accomplish. Forgetting his tool of choice, Harry went for the doorknob and instantly regretted it. Though to be fair to him, who would have thought that a car battery would have been hooked up to the other end. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! Sparks leapt out from the metal knob and lines of lighting arced up and down Harry’s arm causing his entire body to seize and quake like an old time preacher channeling spirits. For some reason, his arm refused to let go and the electrified smell of burning, charred flesh embedded itself into Harry’s nostrils. “Hugg-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-ag-uuuuh!” A final bit of voltage trailed from Harry’s fingertips when he finally managed to let go, still vibrating on the ground like a cheap windup toy. “Uguguguguguugugugug!” Drool started to leak out of the corners of his mouth and drip down. As he lay there on the cold pavement convulsing, and shaking, unable to control any part of his body, he knew right there that he would murder the child tonight. The first bit of control he regained allowed his hand to spasm up to his lips. The only thing shaking worse than his limbs was his mind and Harry was afraid he might swallow or bite off his tongue and was trying to make anything as a barrier. Better to lose a thumb than his tongue. He popped his thumb in just as the shaking stopped, and sucked on it for a moment, trying to get control of himself. Thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk. The old, infantile gesture was oddly comforting right then and there, even though Harry was grateful that no one could see him like this. Out of context he looked like some kind of bozo instead of a poor mook who’d had his circuits fried. Thuk-thuk-thuk-thuk Ssssssssssssssssss…… Speaking of comfort, a comfortable warm sensation began to spill out over the front of Harry’s winter pants. He allowed himself a silly smile before he realized that warm wet stuff coming out of a body usually wasn’t good. “Mmmph!” he exclaimed over his thumb. Blood? Was it blood? He’d been shot in the dick? Was he bleeding out there, too? He dashed to his feet and started pressing his hands against his pants trying to stem the tide of blood. What a terrible way to go! His cousin Louie had gotten his throat stabbed in prison and Harry was gonna bleed out through his dick! He held up the palms of his hands and saw the wet glisten they held, yet no trace of crimson presented itself anywhere on his person. Gingerly he sniffed his fingers. “Piss!” In reality, it was nothing to be frightened or upset about. Just a muscle spasm. He’d been electrocuted and all his limbs were flapping and his heart was jackhammering. Why wouldn’t his bladder get in on the act? Of course he’d pissed his pants. Who wouldn’t? He’d still tell Marv that it was melted snow or something. ************************************************************************************************************ Schwiiiiiick-Schwiiiiiiick-Schwiiiiiiick-Schwiiiiiick. The first step up the basement had taken Marv’s left shoe. The second had taken his right. The third had taken his left sock. The fourth, his right. Schwiiiiiick. Tar. Gross, thick, sludgy, disgusting, sticky tar! The little brat had coated the stairs with the stuff, and each step up claimed another piece of foot adornment from him. Schwiiiiiick. Marv wasn’t going to let that stop him. Even as he winced with every successive step, the black morass clinging to his bare feet. It was almost like wallowing in pig shit. Schwiiiick. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. Marv was really good at not thinking about things. Harry told him that kind of stuff all the time. Just don’t think about it. Just keep going. One step at a time. One. Icky Sticky. Gooey. Gross. Disgusting. Mucky. Careful step at a time. Left foot. Right Foot. Left Foot. Right Foot. Left Foot. Right- CLACK! “Huh?” The metallic snapping sound of something like a bear trap closed in around Marv’s left foot. It didn’t hurt, but it sure as heck got his attention. His problem was, it didn’t close until he’d already planted it and picked up his right foot, which he also promptly set down on the next step. CLACK! “Whuh?” Stuck! Trapped! Booted! He couldn’t move. He leaned forward and gritted his teeth straining to take that next step up the stairs, but the box clapped around his ankles was some combination of too heavy or too stuck to the tar. “Hrrrrrrn!” He struggled against his new bonds, looking like a two bit mime fighting against the wind, but his feet stayed frozen in place. Stubborn as always, Marv leaned forward and grabbed the underside of his right knee. If he couldn’t step out of these beartrap box shoes, he’d yank himself out. When his arms failed, he started throwing his whole back into it, wrenching his head back like an old school rocker….if only he looked so cool. “Gotta! Get!” Schwiiii-EEEEEE! “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Rrrrack-ack-acka-ack. Things came loose and gravity kicked in. Momentum did the rest. Marv tumbled through the air, screams bouncing off brick as he jackknifed off the stairs and onto the back top of his skull. The impact had been so hard that several crib railing clattered from their spots leaning against the wall. The unfinished rocking horse across the room seemed to whinny and mock him, judging and staring at him, even though no one had painted on its eyes yet. At least the trap boxes had broken off in the fall. What kind of psycho doomsday prepper did that kind of thing? Wouldn’t just using a really sharp nail have been easier? Free though he might have been, fresh air did not lap gently at Marv’s ankles. Something yet remained. Something that had been inside the trap boxes and were now stuck to his feet. “Socks?” Marv wondered aloud. But based on the gentle pink and blue colors and the duckies stitched in, ‘booties’ would have been a more apt descriptor. The lanky, bearded thief tried to peel the new garments off of his feet, but his soles were too heavily coated in tar to get them off. Whatever. Marv got his feet underneath him and stood up….for approximately three seconds. They weren’t just booties. Something was sewn into the bottom of them; something round and spherical, like tennis balls. Marv’s knees shook and his arms splayed out trying to keep balance while he weebled and wobbled on his own two feet. “AAAAAH!” OOOF! He tried again, this time grabbing onto a nearby shelf. It was easier…but not good. Experimentally he let go and automatically reverted to the same awkward, barely standing stance. “Heh!” He laughed to himself. “Heh-heh!” He had this. He totally had this. Marv lifted up his foot to try and take a step. He didn’t have this! His body titled violently to one side like a boppo doll, only there was nothing automatically popping him back up. Desperately, he flailed and tried to latch onto the tool case to catch himself. EEEEEEEEEEEK! BONG! The heavy wooden case avalanched down on top of him with a cling, clang, and a clung. Marv found the tool case the hard way. With no choice left to him, Marv dug himself out and crawled on hands and knees back the way he came. There was no way he was getting up those awful tar covered steps and he didn’t want to see what other surprises lay that way. What if his hands got stuck in more booties? Hobbling around on all fours, he looked and felt ridiculous “Harry!” He cried out. “Harreeee!” He sounded like a baby calling for his Mommy. ***************************************************************************************************** “Rasanfrasanmasan…friggin…rasan…muther…cruthathat…!” Feeling like he was still sparking like a firework and smoking like a cigar, Harry abandoned the front door assault and doubled back shaking as he walked. The cursing made him feel better about the state of his pants, but only a little. “I’ll rip his head off!” Swiftly, smartly, Harry kicked at the doggy door at the back entrance, standing to the side lest another volley of darts whiz through. He exhaled when nothing happened. “Ptew!” He spit on his hand and reached for the doorknob. He stopped himself and instead tapped it quickly and gently. He jerked his hand all the way back to his chest, fearing a shock and another round of horizontal break dancing. When he felt nothing he tried it again, a little braver this time. “Heheh!” Alright! This door wasn’t booby trapped. That must have been why the kid was posting guard there. Now he’d run out of ammo or gotten scared or both and ran away. Harry did a few more taps on the door knob just in case and was pretty much rattling the brass knob before he was confident enough to give it a full grip. “You’re dead, kid.” Confidently, he turned the knob and stepped inside. SQUUUELSHHHHH Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! Christ on a cracker! Burning hot wax squirted out of seemingly nowhere right on top of Harry’s noggin. The ski cap offered minimal protection, it’s fibers singing, sizzling and dissolving with close to a bucket of scalding hot goop poured on top of it. He was a fresh candle put under a blow torch! He was an action figure getting put under a magnifying glass and his head was starting to melt! Most people believe in a thing called a “Fight or Flight” response, and that when presented with danger, a person will either get aggressive or run away. Harry found out the hard way that there was at least one additional option: Freeze. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” He stood there in the threshold face contorted in agony, screaming while more and more of the clear white lava sprayed on his head. The scene was something out of a B-Movie when he was a kid: “The Wax Museum of Corpses”. Harry didn’t think it was so impressive watching back then. Now he knew why the people in it screamed. Adrenaline and something resembling bravery finally kicked in and Harry pushed his way forward and was rewarded with the sound of mounted knick knacks coming loose and hitting against the kitchen floor. BRONG-ong-ong-ong-ong-ong-ong! The world went dark and gray. A bucket of wax had been sprayed onto his dome, so it only made sense that a literal bucket had been perched to fall on his head as soon as he’d pushed past the door. Oldest trick in the book, right out of the funnies, no less. Harry should have seen it coming… He didn’t see much of anything at the moment, what with the bucket on his head. His curses and muttering only echoed back at him while he stumbled around blindly, spinning like a drunken tornado and bumping into kitchen cabinets. “Ooof!” He folded himself over what must have been the kitchen table. “GRRRRR…”Finally, he was able to pry the bucket off his head and send it clanging across the room. “Grah!” He looked around at the kitchen and the havoc that had been wrought. Some messed up cross between a super soaker and a hot glue gun lay on the floor, still attached to white ropes and a pulley system meant to go off as soon as anyone was unlucky enough to burst through the kitchen door. No more traps though. Not in here, anyways. The burning sensation had stopped. The wax had cooled. Gently, Harry patted the top of his head to inspect the damage that had been done. He was gonna use this kid’s baby teeth as a chisel to get this stuff out. “Hm?” He’d been expecting a hard outer shell, still dripping, or the remains of his cheap knit cap, or even parts of his own scalp. Imagine his surprise then, when instead of any of that, he touched upon something rather soft, with frills on it. “Wha?” Angry and confused, he slammed the door and caught a glimpse at his reflection in the window. There hadn’t been nothing in that bucket…. Hot glued, practically fused to Harry’s head, was a big, frilly, adorable, teal baby bonnet. He looked kind of cute, too. Harry roared! “Where are you, you little creep?!” ************************************************************************************************** Marv clambered back up the stairs on all fours, his crowbar in his mouth like a dog with its bone. Foolishly, he tried to stand back up once he reached the top of the stairs, and that only resulted in the same manic flailing and futile spasms moments before he was plopped back down on his butt. Dejected and frustrated he crawled on hands and knees through the snow, past decorative trees and ferns. Briefly, the thought occurred to him that he may be able to get in through the doggy door, even though realistically there was no way he’d fit more than his head through. The glint of festive lights caught Marv’s eye and he looked up. A Christmas tree lit up inside the house! By an open window! A first floor window, no less. Something low enough to the ground where even a crawler might be able to shimmy his way up and over with relative ease. “Harry!” Marv called from his knees. “I’m coming in!” *************************************************************************************************** Harry tromped through the house looking for the damn kid. Huffing and puffing, he closed in on a closed panel door. “Oh no, I’m really scared!” A voice called from behind the kitchen door. Odd. It sounded high…ish. Falsetto almost. Like it was an affection or something. Maybe the kid was on puberty hormones or whatever… “It’s too late for you, kid,” Harry sneered. “We’re already in the house. We’re gonna getcha!” “Okay,” the voice taunted back. “Come and get me!” “Why you-!” Fortune favors the bold, or so Harry believed. He’d already been dinged by being cautious and slowly opening the last door. It made sense to charge forward. Harry flung open the door and dashed straight into-! THWICKSHHHHH The world went blurry. Hands and face went sticky. It didn’t stop Harry, but it made him slow down to peel the massive sheet of fly paper off of his upper body.. “Ptew! Ugh! Now you’re dead!” It also distracted him from the trip wire until his shins had already tripped things. VRRRRRR! A mechanical whirring. A hot wind and then… SPLOOSH! The trip wire had led to a high powered fan posted right outside the dining room door. The tray of pea green gloop directly in front of the fan sailed through the air, finding a home by splattering all over Harry’s face, hands, and part of his chest. Add wet and sticky the amount of textures that Harry was being forcibly exposed to tonight. He licked his lips, and tasted hints of actual vegetables. This was literally baby food! And now it was dribbling down his chin, with no easy way to wipe the stuff off. Harry looked like a tot that had gone a couple rounds in a highchair with a jar of gerbers and either lost or won depending on whether or not eating it had been the objective. He looked like he didn’t even know how to feed himself. The only thing missing was a bib. ******************************************************************************************** Peeling back the curtain with his crowbar, Marv peeked in to make sure the coast was clear. No kid in sight. No Harry, either, but one thing at a time. He coughed up a little more of what he’d decided was baby powder, and pulled himself up over the ledge, being careful not to put too much weight on his now useless feet. Leaning forward, he tipped over the ledge towards his next painful mistake. Marv had seen the tree. He’d seen the window. He saw no kid, or Harry. He also didn’t see the small mountain of tiny legs perched just beneath the window sill. Anyone with a child will tell you that those tiny bricks are suburban caltrops and hurt like all get out when coming into contact with unsuspecting feet. As it turns out, they’re not that much better on the palms of one's hands or the knee caps. CRUNCH. CRUNCH. CRUNCH CRUNCH Blonted pins held up by square beds burrowed into Marv’s cold and weary skin, and the lanky intruder’s mind bubbled over with rage at the grave injustice that was being done to him. “GAH!” He screamed. “I”M GONNA KILL THAT KID!” He shuffled over to the carpet to pick yellow, red, blue, and green miniature mines out of him. ****************************************************************************************** Harry was swatting and the bits of mashed pees, wiping away the bits that hadn’t been completely smeared in. If he hadn’t been looking down at himself and trying not to fall for any more tripwire traps, he might not have noticed his best friend whimpering, drenched in white powder and crawling on the floor. “Marv?” Marv looked up, surprised. “Harry?” “Why the hell are you crawling around on the floor for?” “Why the hell are you dressed like a toddler?” He noticed the stain running down the middle of Harry’s pants.. “Did you pee yourself?” All the cold got chased out of Harry’s body and any part of his skin that wasn’t peppered with baby food was very obviously blushingly pink. The third voice broke in from the stairs. “I’m up here you morons! Come and get me!” Instinct preceded thought. The two thugs rushed to meet each other in the middle and get to the stairs. Harry did another banana peel slip worthy of the great Vaudeville legends. It wasn’t ice this time; just those little toy cars that are in every toy aisle across America. Of course the brat had toy cars. Marv? Marv couldn’t walk and just forgot. Standing, rushing, and then toppling like a shoddy block tower that had been stacked too high. The toy cars might as well have been more lego bricks crunching underneath his frame. Nevertheless, they thudded in stereo, the bass of their falling forms adding to the soundtrack of an otherwise silent night. “You guys give up? Or are you thirsty for more?” Room was spinning. Vision blurry. Head throbbing. Harry and Marv followed the taunting voice up the red carpeted stairs. The kid was sitting there at the top, smiling cockily down on their prone forms. He wore red footie pajamas with a Santa Claus logo on them, and his blonde hair was cut in a dorky bowl. Between his legs, the bulge of a likely wet diaper gave a rounded shape to the lower portion of the jammies. The only thing that was even slightly intimidating was the tranq rifle slung over his back. And he looked damn near thirty. They let that sink in while he waddled just out of sight at the top of the stairs, his crinkle still giving away his position. They’d screwed up. They’d really screwed up! How had they gotten this so wrong? This wasn’t a kid at all! Just some…some…some weirdo that liked dressing up as one and playing pretend! This was supposed to be child’s play, but it was somebody else who’d been playing child with them! Harry and Marv looked at each other. Their pride had been wounded and it demanded vindication. There was no turning back now! This padded prick was really going to get it. Harry was the first to his feet. He shambled over Marv, forcing out popping farts when he stepped on the taller man’s gut. Marv was doing his best to crawl up after Harry, quickly getting used to skittering on his knees. “Duck!” Harry called out. “Huh?” WUMPH! After everything they’d already been through, the pair shouldn’t have been surprised that this madman whose home they’d invaded had more than a few packs of adult diapers in his possession. Neither should they have been surprised that the diapers weren’t just plain old medical Depends like what old people wore and had colorful cartoonish designs. Neither one was surprised by that. What had surprised them, equally, that several of said packs had been bound together and swung down on a rope from above like a plastic backed wrecking ball. They’d both been surprised. But Harry had been quicker to duck. THUD. Harry looked back to see Marv moaning and groaning back on the floor, his legs and bootied feet raised slightly off the hardwood floor. “Don’t worry Marv, I’ll get him for you!” Marv looked further up the stairs, and pointed, “Harreeeeeeee!” That’s when Harry got nailed with the second load. WUMPH! THUD! BLORT! The shorter thug spun through the air and landed face first, belly flopping straight onto Marv’s prone body. Marv’s intestines groaned with the sudden added pressure and gave out without a fight. It was as if a bomb exploded inside Marv’s belly, and the resulting shock waves were making themselves known. Without warning his bowels violently emptied themselves into the seat of his pants, spreading wet much everywhere dripping down his boxers and clinging to his thighs, all while Harry lay uncomfortably atop him. It was over before he could so much as inhale. Marv let out a pained, pathetic whimper. The fact that he couldn’t so much as stand to get his damned pants off extra salt in the wound. One thief with wet pants, the other with a full load in the back. Now both of them were decidedly and definitively in need of those diapers. “He’s not a kid, Harry,” Marv quietly pleaded. “I don’t think we can take him.” Harry was still chest to chest with his cohort. “Aw, shut up, will you?” “Ooooh…” “What?” Marv winced. “You’re missing some teeth.” “Where?” Harry started feeling around his mouth with his hands, and ignored the taste of baby food that he was adding to his palette. He found the gap. “It’s my gold tooth! My gold tooth” He clambered off of Marv. “I’ll kill him!” he bellowed. “I’ll kill him!” Insensate with fury, Harry limped up the stairs with Marv crawling after him, wincing with every jiggle in his hindquarters. He was still wary enough to hold his hands out in front of him lest another nasty surprise swing down from the rafters. He couldn’t see it, but the gesture only added to the guise of a baby who hadn’t quite mastered the art of the stroll yet. “If you bean me one more time, you freak, I’m gonna snap off your cajones and boil them in motor oil!” Marv looked around for imminent threats. To the right of the stairs, the pair caught a bit of red and a crinkling sound. “There he is!” Harry shouted, charing after their prey. Another trip wire, this one more sturdy and not connected to any gadget or gizmo, lived up to its name. With all the grace of a pregnant giraffe Harry tripped and somersaulted through the air crashing once again on his back. By this point, both criminals had spent more time prone than upright. Marv had learned from his time closer to the carpet, though, and easily outmaneuvered the trap. Getting good at moving on all fours, it was relatively simple to push off the balls of his feet and leap forward and tackle the so-called kid at the knees. “I’ve got him, Harry!” Marv yelled. “I’ve got him! Get up!” Marv closed his eyes and braced himself for a flurry of panicked blows to the head. Nothing he couldn’t take. No fists came raining down, though. Instead their adversary was reaching for something. “I got him!” Harry barely stirred, the events of the evening more than taking their toll on his mind and body. The ‘something’ was just out of sight. “Come on, Harry! Give me a hand!” Something up on the attic stairs. “Harry! Help me! Get up!” PLUNK! “Hmmm?” THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Something got wedged in between Marv’s lips. Something big, round, and rubbery, with a plastic guard on it so that he couldn’t swallow it. The little ring from the middle flopped slightly. A pacifier? Except not! Marv would have just spit it out, but the bulb inside was inflating somehow, expanding to take up most of the room in his mouth, turning a children’s soother into a ball gag with no key! “MMMMMMMPH!” All of Marv’s panicked screams as he wrenched and yanked at the pacifier failed. “MMMMMPH! MMMPH! MMMPH!” Their victim forgotten, Marv tried his best to revive Harry, who seemed to be dozing peacefully, a baby taking a nap after a big Christmas Dinner. Marv shook Harry’s shoulders, but the shorter man only ragdolled. He started patting Harry’s cheeks. “MMMMPH! MMMPH!” Which was supposed to mean “Harry wake up.” He gave a tap. Slp. Some more taps. Slp-slp-slp Nothing changed. THWACK! Harry rose like Frankenstein from the slab. “OWWWW!” He shouted. “What gives?” Marv did his best to try and explain, but only muffled mumblings made their way past the plastic shield guard. THWACK THWACK THWACK! Harry repaid the pain triple fold onto Marv. “See? How do you like getting slapped in the face? You like it? Eh? No?” He blinked and finally noticed the gag lodged into Marv’s mouth. “What do you got that for?” Marv pointed to the pacifier and tried to explain. “Mmmmph! Mmmph mmph mmph!” “So spit it out!” THWACK! Harry shook his head in disgust and tears started to form in Marv’s eyes. “Ugh. You’re just as bad as he is.” He climbed to his feet and hustled up the attic stairs; a weeping, pathetic Marv crawling up behind him. “Oh crap. Will you look at this?” When the two climbed to the attack, they came upon it: The thing that must have existed considering all the crazy, yet they never expected. A giant nursery, painted baby blue with cutesy animal drawings stenciled along the ceiling’s edge. A giant crib. A giant rocking chair. An adult sized walker. With everything to scale as it was, both grown men felt decidedly smaller than they really were. “Check the closet,” Harry barked out. He went over to a large wooden chest painted in primary colors; a toy box of some kind. Marv sighed behind his paci-gag and started trudging on hands and knees to the wide open closet. The freak probably wasn’t in there anyways. Everything was on hangers and there wasn’t anything long enough to hide a pair of feet. Just a bunch of onesies and too-short overalls. He stopped by the giant changing table and looked longingly at the stacks of diapers. It might be nice to slip into one of those. It’d be embarrassing but a lot more comfy than what he was stuck in now. Harry slammed the lid down on the toybox. “Where the hell did he go?” he wondered. “MMMPH MMMPH MMMPH MMMPH MMMPH” said Marv which was supposed to mean. “Maybe he committed suicide.” From outside came that same taunting voice. “Down here, you horse’s ass!” The two followed the sound to the window. Sitting in a tree house (because of course he was) was the padded maniac who had been tormenting them this whole time. Between the real house and the tree one, was a thick line of rope. Diaper boy had obviously ziplined it down to the tree house. “Come and get me before I call the police!” “MMMPH MMMPH! MMMPH!” Marv started to crawl away, but Harry grabbed him by the belt. “Wait. Wait.” He peered out the window, staring down at the not-so-little boy. “That’s just what he wants us to do. To go back downstairs through his funhouse so we get all tore up.” He took out a couple of handkerchiefs that he used to wipe fingerprints and started wrapping them around his hands to prevent blistering. He looked oddly wise, and awfully dangerous, despite the frilly bonnet, goop covered face, and missing teeth. “MMMMPH MMMMPH! MMMMPH!” Harry waved the objection off. “He’s not calling the cops. Do you know how much we could sue for with all these booby traps? This is a game to him.” He stepped out the attic window and onto the roof, using the rope as a balance. “So I say, let’s play!” Marv was protesting all the way, even as he crawl-climbed out of the window and followed Harry, even has his partner taunted him. Funny that the taller of the two was scared of heights. Slowly, inch by inch, the two went out on the rope, more than a story up above the snow covered ground. Marv couldn’t stop whimpering or looking down. His whimpers became a groan when something leaked out of his right trouser leg. So gross! Then the thought of how far it fell made him grip on tighter. “Keep going!” Harry urged. “Keep going!” When they were about half way, the duo heard another catcall that made them look up. “Hey guys!” In his hands, the maniac in the red jammies now held a pair of hedge clippers. Like a psychotic Tweety Bird he opened them, positioned them just beneath the rope at his end and smiled wickedly. “Go back!” Harry yelled! “Go back!” SCHNIKT! The rope went slack and the pair went free falling, this time, they knew, to their deaths. They land and break their necks, and only one of them was so much as physically able to scream. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” “MMMMMMMMMMMPH!” Except. Something broke their fall. Something round, and plastic, and click-clack-cluttery. For split-moment, each one had thought they’d died, and that Heaven (or the other place) was rainbow colored. When their heads breached the surface and the world made sense in terms of up down left and right again, they realized what had happened. “A baww pit?” Harry lisped. “Why awe we inna baww pit?” “Mmmph? Mmmph?” Through the snow, their adversary approached, seeming so much bigger and more confident than they were. Brushing his bowl cut back, he smirked and said. “Aaaaand I think that’s about enough time. That was fun though. Thanks.” “Huh?” Harry mumbled. “Wha?” Getting harder to focus. Words were making less and less sense. Maybe it was the balls, but everything seemed to be spinning. Spinning…. Spinning… Spinning… “Did you already forget the little darts I stuck you guys with?” the child said. Holy crap, how did he suddenly turn eight? “Fun little cocktail. Tranquilizers, muscle relaxants, a taaaaad of LSD.” “Bluh bluh bluh bluh?” Marv just sucked silently on his pacifier, looking at birds made out of stardust. “Oh yeah. It’s hitting you guys good. Really good. Not surprising. Get your heart rate going and that stuff spreads like crazy.” “Yeah. I remember the first time I hit on that stuff. Wooof. Really good headspace, though.” Both of the “Wet Bandits” were now living up to their namesake and not caring. The words that the “kid” was saying weren’t even registering. “So I’ve got some good news and some bad news for you guys. The good news is you get to spend Christmas with me and some friends. They love taking care of big dumb babies with no thoughts in their heads. It’s good practice.” He dug into a pocket hidden in the jammies. “The bad news is, by the time you two sober up, you’ll be in jail and there will be some very embarrassing pictures of you online.” With that, he took out his cell phone and clicked the first of what would be many, many pictures. (The End)

“Kyyyyyyyle!” Mommy called from across the playground. “Come heeeere.” She sounded happy. Whimsical even. This made Kyle feel the opposite. He’d just started getting into a rhythm, climbing up the low winding stairs of the jungle gym and then sliding down safely into the rubber mulch. “Damphiff” He mumbled behind his pacifier. He was just getting brave enough to consider going down the slide a different way besides butt seated and feet splayed out. The slide ramp went straight to the ground so no freefall, and it was wide enough that two littles could go down at the same time…or one Little to roll sideways down it. Such as his life was, things like which way to go down a slide was one of the few actual choices Kyle got to make. “Kyyyyyyle!” Kyle hiked up his green shorts and pulled down his green shirt so that the minimum amount of his diaper would show, even though he knew that the shirt would ride up and the shorts would inch down as soon as he started walking. He spared a glance at the cartoon dog on his shirt. Mint’s Hints. Weird that a show from his childhood-his first childhood- was still on the air. He wanted to think that it was weird that he was still watching it, but for a Little, it really wasn’t. “Kyle!” Mommy was losing patience. The sandy blonde Little boy waddled and shuffled through the park’s playground. Other Littles in their twenties, thirties, and forties played games meant for children aged two, three and four, all under the watchful eyes of their giant adoptive parents. Not thirty feet from the bench where Mommy and some other Amazons were sitting a really intense game of duck-duck-goose was under way. “Yesh, Mommy?” Mommy had the exact same color hair as him. It’s probably why she adopted him in the first place. Next to Mommy another giant woman was breastfeeding a Little girl in a pink jumper dresser. Kyle gulped. He hoped Mommy wasn’t about to the same same. “Kyle, there you are! Could you not hear Mommy?” “Shorry Mommy…” He looked down at his light up sneakers and crinkled lightly in place. It was hard enunciating around the pacifier, but Kyle had gotten good at it over the years. “It’s okay baby,” Mommy said. She grabbed him by the shoulders and maneuvered him closer. “Let’s check your diaper.” A weary sigh made its way out over the pacifier bulb. Kyle readied himself. Mommy squeezed at his crotch and snaked two fingers up his shorts and inside the leg gathers of his diaper. “Kyle! Is your diaper wet?” Mommy asked. “Yesh, Mommy…” “Do big boys go pee-pee in their pants?” “No Mommy…” “Did you know you went pee-pee in your pants?” “Yesh, Mommy…” “Why didn’t you come tell Mommy that you had an accident?” “I wush pwayin’...” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “No Mommy.” All of this was just a script that played out time and time again, especially when Mommy thought he was acting a little too big for his britches. Kyle knew his diaper was wet. He couldn’t help it. Conditioning-hypnotic and otherwise-had made him functionally incontinent. The second his bladder was full enough to register to his conscious mind, it emptied itself right into his pants. Trying to hold it in only gave him anxiety. Same with telling on himself or asking someone to change him; it made his fear response go through the roof. He knew it was complete bullshit, but his unconscious brain had been given the connection that bothering Grown-Ups about one’s diaper is not something good boys did. So anytime he even considered whining or crying about the state of his pants, he felt incredibly anxious, akin to stepping out onto a twentieth story ledge. Trying to take off his diaper was on the same emotional level as being trapped under water and needing to inhale. But as far as Mommy and her conditioning was concerned, this was all just reinforcing how immature he was and how he needed his baby pants. “Turn around,” Mommy said. Kyle did and drooped his head, readying himself for the next phase of the ritual, feeling the air rush into the back of his diaper while Mommy pulled the waistband back and looked down. “Kyle! Is your diaper messy?” “Yesh,Mommy…” “Do big boys go poopy in their pants?” “No, Mommy…” “Did you know you went poopy in your pants?” “Yesh, Mommy…” “Why didn’t you come tell Mommy that you had an accident?” “I wush pwayin’...” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “No, Mommy.” Mommy turned Kyle around so that he could see the knowing look to her peers. “Littles. What would they do without us.” That got some knowing nods from the assembled giants. The one breastfeeding switched the Little over to her other breast. “What happens to big boys who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?” Mommy asked. More of the script. “They get shpankt” Kyle mumbled. “What happens to babies who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?’ Kyle bit down into the pacifier to spare his tongue. Then said, “They gesh a diapher chahshe.” “Why?” “Cush dere Mommiesh wuf dem.” A chorus of ‘Awwws’ accompanied Mommy grabbing the Mints Hints diaper bag and picking Kyle up by the waist. It wasn’t a long trip. Just enough to be on the grass away from the bench. Kyle realized what was happening and spit out his pacifier. “Mommy! No! Bathroom please!” They were close enough to the circle of Littles that Kyle could make out when someone enthusiastically yelled ‘Goose’! Mommy kept laying out the changing mat in the grass. “Your diaper was clean when we got out of the stroller,” she said. Kyle’s pants were down around his ankles and he was laid down. His shirt was yanked up above his belly button. “You said it yourself. You pee-peed and poopied in your pants and you were too busy playing with all your Little friends to stop. That means you shouldn’t mind getting changed in front of them.” She stuck the pacifier back in Kyle’s mouth. The answer was final. Kyle huffed and crossed his arms as his diaper was untapped and his legs were lifted into the air, broadcasting his messy bottom for all. He’d be embarrassed, but he’d already been through so much worse. It was more annoying than anything at this point. “Good baby,” Mommy cooed, wiping him up. That gave him a rush of endorphins. The programming he’d been subjected to worked both ways. Being called ‘cute’ and ‘good’ made all of his happy brain chemicals lurch into sudden overdrive. “Nooooooo….” Kyle looked up and over to the benches. The Little girl in the pink jumper dress was off her Mommy’s tit and was being burped. She was moaning pitfully and lightly squirming while her Mommy patted her back “Nnnnn…ugh…Nooooo!” Kyle saw the back of her diaper expand and sag. Her Mommy contentedly patted the back of her diaper and the girl’s shoulders started shaking. She must be new to this. “All done,” Mommy said She’d finished changing him while he’d been distracted watching somebody else’s ‘Year One’. “Go play.” She gave him a pat on his back seat to send him off. At least she didn’t want to breastfeed him right now. The Little boy toddled away, sucking on his pacifier. He joined in the Duck-Duck-Goose Game just so he’d have an excuse to sit and brood without looking like he was pouting. That and the jungle gym was so far away as to wind him. Between the thick diapers and the lack of coordination forced onto him with subsonic treatments to his inner ear, things like balance took a lot more stamina than they used to. Playing a game of Duck-Duck-Goose might qualify as quality cardio now. “Duck-Duck-Duck-Duck” .He shouldn’t have to be dealing with this nonsense at his age. Just because he was almost numb to the daily condescensions and humiliations didn’t make them right. He’d done his fair share of screaming and crying and denying and more crying early on, but all that did in the eyes of the Amazons was justify his treatment and his diagnosis of ‘Maturosis’. Leave it to the baby crazy titans to make up a disease that they didn’t catch and the only ‘cure’ was treating people with it the exact way Amazons wanted to treat Littles. “Duck-Duck-Duck” If Maturosis was really a health condition, and something Amazons could catch or develop, there’d be a worldwide panic. There’d be vaccines and hospitals and charities all rushing for a real cure. And clothing that didn’t have cartoon characters on it for people suffering from it. Or even better, what if they stuck to her own rules? Mommy lost her marbles when a Tweener misspelled her name on her coffee. Imagine her getting told that she was too immature to go to wipe her own ass or drink from something without a spill proof lid. Imagine Mommy getting fired from her job and slammed into a daycare. As traumatizing, embarrassing and humiliating as Kyle’s first year of this had been, Mommy’s first day would be hundreds of times worse…for her. “Goose!” ******************************************************************************************************** “Open up!” Mommy said. The spoon full of…eggs? Was it eggs? Whatever it was it was coming in low and slow towards Kyle’s mouth. Like a good baby, Kyle opened wide and let the yellow stuff be spooned in. Yup. It was eggs. Not salted or seasoned and somehow both dry and runny, but it was eggs. Maybe egg substitute? Regardless, the Little closed his mouth and swallowed the bland tasteless stuff. At least it wasn’t strained beets. “Do you wanna try feeding yourself?” A suppressed sigh. “Yes, Mommy.” Another ritual. Another bit of conditioning to just reinforce how absolutely helpless he was. Kyle didn’t have the fine motor skills or hand eye coordination to use a spoon anymore. She just wanted to get good use out of the bib tied around his neck and the ever present packet of wipes just out of reach. She loaded the plastic spoon and slipped it into his hand. Like a hungry predator she watched the spoon trembling in his grasp. If he just gave up and spilled it, he’d be punished. He had to embarrass himself and prove that he was an immature baby and not just an adult that had given up. Suport a lie to cover the truth. “We interrupt Helen in the Morning for this breaking news!” The mindless talk show that featured Middle Aged celebrities doing Click-Clack Dances and Rappers doing at home cooking segments was cut off. Two news anchors, a man and a woman, sat at their desk staring straight out to the camera. “Growing unease continues to spread around the world as more and more Amazons start to exhibit behaviors normally associated with Littles and Tweeners afflicted with the genetic condition commonly called Maturosis.” The lady anchor’s hair was bigger than her face and so pale as to be white. “That’s right Diane,” the dark haired anchor jumped in. “Maturosis, which is considered an inherited condition common in people with Little ancestry, is marked by symptoms that reduce them mentally and emotionally to small children, often requiring full time care and adoption.” “Best thing for them, really, Chuck” the lady anchor chimed in. “Right you are, Diane.” The male anchor continued. “Common symptoms of Maturosis often include emotional volatility, decreased balance, fine and gross motor skills, language impairment and decreased vocabulary, dyslexia, dysgraphia and of course a near complete inability to go to the potty like a big boy or girl.” The lady anchor arched an eyebrow and looked over to her cohort. “You mean incontinence, right Chuck?” There wasn’t enough makeup to hide the rising blush in the Amazon man’s. cheeks “Right you are, Diane.” The woman took over. “While this is considered a normal and adorable part of everyday life for most Littles, Tweeners and their parents, reports are starting to come in that such behaviors are starting to manifest in Amazons and in relatively large numbers.” “That’s impossible!” Mommy scoffed, completely absorbed in the T.V. Yeah, Kyle thought. Mostly because Maturosis didn’t actually exist. Just a set of ‘therapies’, ‘medicines’, ‘products’, and ‘treatments’ that caused and later exacerbated the symptoms. He put the spoon in his mouth and swallowed the eggs. ??? He put the spoon in his mouth and swallowed the eggs! “Mommy!” he screeched. “Mommy I did it! Look!” The Amazon waved it off. She was too busy staring at the screen. “Mommy! Look!” “Not now baby.” Kyle shut his mouth, feeling the dread rise up at him. If he argued or disobeyed her, he’d be being purposefully naughty. “As we all know, Amazons, Littles, and Tweeners have a shared ancestry,” The lady anchor said. “However, only Littles and Tweeners tend to exhibit Maturosis with Amazons requiring the same level of care being only a percent of a percent of the total population.” “But all of a sudden,” the male anchor took back over, “Amazons everywhere are beginning to show similar levels of immaturity across the board. Scientists always knew it was possible, but why now? Why so widespread and across the board? Is it the government doing something to the drinking water? Are foreigners to blame? Or is this some kind of terrorist attack?” “I personally think it’s a prank,” the lady anchor said, “that people are taking too far. Just like crop circles, or the Lockness Monster.” Mommy tilted her head sideways. “Huh?” Kyle’s brain took a moment to process her confusion. Two out of three friends from daycare had such extreme oral fixations that Kyle’s ear had trained itself to understand it when people were mumbling over pacifiers or around their thumbs. What the Amazon lady on the news had really said was. “Uh pershony fink isha pank phat peefle aw tayghin too fah. Chus wike cawf firkuhs.” “Diane, take your fingers out of your mouth…” The feed cut immediately. Mommy stood up and turned the television off. She did not sit back down, however. “That’s ridiculous,” she said to herself. “Some kind of joke or deep fake or whatever.” She was pacing the kitchen floor. Kyle stared at his forced caregiver’s feet and narrowed his eyes. Something was off about her, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. “Mommy?” Mommy stopped pacing and doubled back to the highchair. She grabbed a wet wipe. “Yes, baby? Are you finished trying to eat your eggies?” She looked at him. There was disappointment in her hazel eyes when she saw that the plate was clean and there was no mess on Kyle’s bib or face. She looked down at the floor to see if he’d spilled it. “Nothing?” Kyle didn’t take his eyes off her feet. “Mommy? Are your shoes on backwards?” Mommy bent over and inspected her flats. She let out a surprised gasp. “Oh gosh! How did that happen?” She hurriedly tried to correct the mistake, tripping all over herself and stumbling like a newborn foal. She finally remembered to sit down in the kitchen chair. Intensely curious, Kyle leaned forward in his highchair and almost fell over when the tray slipped out of place. Mommy had forgotten to click it all the way in. He had to catch it with both hands to prevent it from banging and clattering on the floor. Mommy was still muttering to herself, wondering how she’d gotten something as simple as her left and right shoes mixed up. She was having trouble getting the shoes back on, too. Cautiously, Kyle leaned out and placed the tray on the side of the breakfast table. Mommy had also forgotten to buckle him in, so there was no fighting against Amazon strength buckles. He still had to do his best not to look down, shimmying from the highchair to the floor. He felt the ache in his bladder and gritted his teeth. Holding it in until his feet safely touched the floor. “Got it!” Mommy said, and then looked up. Hunched over in her chair he was at about eye level with her Little baby. “Huh?” “I did it!” Kyle threw his arms up in the air. Some part of his training was still reinforcing desires to impress the woman who’d conditioned him back to toddlerhood. Mommy beamed. “Oh! You got out of your highchair!” she said. She sounded happy and surprised. Like a parent witnessing their child’s first steps. “You got town out of the highchair?” she repeated. “All? By? Yourself?” The color drained from both of their faces for completely different reasons. Kyle just consciously realized that he’d been holding his bladder all the way down the highchair and even now barefoot on the kitchen floor. He was so excited that he accidentally released it, flooding his Koddles. Mommy looked relieved when she saw the wetness indicator change color. That added wetness dampened his mood just a tad. “Mommy,” Kyle whimpered. “Can you change me?” The smile bloomed back on Mommy’s face, the shoe incident forgotten. “Of course, baby boy. Let’s go get you changed.” The change went the same as the countless changes beforehand and the same as the countless number that would follow. Except for one thing…. “Wipes…ball it up…pail…new diaper…powder…aaaaaand….done…” Mommy loved narrating so many of the humiliating events in Kyle’s life. Meals. Baths. Bedtime. Diaper changes. She Zon-splained everything as if Kyle was too stupid to understand that he’d spilt something or was bewildered about being carried around on her hip. Sometimes she got so into it that she would do it for everything that happened to him until bedtime and Kyle could hear her voice in his dreams. Right now was different. Her voice was quieter. She wasn’t narrating what she was doing to Kyle. She was talking to herself. And there was the slightest hint of doubt in her voice, like she wasn’t sure what the next step was. Was she…was she struggling to remember how to change a diaper? “All done!” Mommy chirped. “Let’s go on with our morning routine.” The pace picked back up to normal as Mommy carried Kyle out to the garage and grabbed the diaper bag off the hook by the door. Just like every morning, Kyle was buckled and strapped into his car seat-this time quietly- and Mommy walked around to the driver’s seat. She closed the door, clutched the black leather steering wheel and sat ready to drive. Except that she didn’t drive. Mommy just sat there, white knuckled, trying to will the car to life. “Mommy?” Kyle called. “Is everything okay?” “Everything fine, Kyle.” Mommy said. “Mommy’s just having a little car trouble.” The Little looked at his captor turned caregiver in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you need keys to turn the car on?” Mommy gasped. “Right right!” She slapped her forehead. “Silly Mommy! Mommy definitely needs her coffee. Ha-ha!” She scrambled around in her purse for the keys and the ridges on her forehead became more pronounced with every passing second. The closest she got were a rainbow colored plastic set. Her eyes lit up and she eventually found the actual car keys in the bottom of Kyle’s diaper bag. “Wow! How did those get there? Mommy really needs her morning coffee.” She fidgeted trying to find the right key, but eventually got the engine started on the third try. “Mommy…” Kyle called from the back. “What?” She was beginning to sound flustered. “Shouldn’t you put your seatbelt on?” Kyle said. “You always put your seatbelt on first before driving.” The car shut off. “On second thought, Mommy said. “Let’s go for a walk. The weather is wonderful this morning and your daycare isn’t very far away.” True enough but…”Won’t you be late for work?” “Let me worry about that, baby boy,” Mommy cooed. “That’s a Grown-Up problem, not a Little problem.” He supposed that was true. It was still weird to be unbuckled from his car seat without having actually gone anywhere. The transfer from car to umbrella stroller was a quick one, and Mommy was speed walking (speed strolling?), ill at ease down the street and out of the neighborhood proper as if something was chasing her. Kyle leaned back and just took in the sights, sucking on a bottle of juice that Mommy had shoved in his mouth after buckling him in. Being in his stroller gave him a certain level of protection. He was socially invisible, he could people watch, and his face was obscured most of the time. “What’s the matter, honey?” A voice caught Kyle’s attention. “Are you lost?” It sounded feminine, but also very, very small. Little. Yet the confidence and power it oozed was only regularly spouted by the giants. “She looks lost.” A second voice said. The words sounded concerned enough, but there was an underlying poison in the tone. “Do you need help sweetey? Where’s your Mommy and Daddy?” Kyle had seen this happen so many times before. Some poor Little would be surrounded by Amazons and if they didn’t play their cards right, there’d be a Monkeez or a Koddles on their butt by lunch. “I’m…I’m fine. Thank you very much.” The voice was deep and masculine and near booming…and…timid? “You don’t look fine.” The first said. “You look lost. Where’s your Mommy and Daddy?” “I…I…I don’t have one.” Cringing, with the same type of morbid curiosity of watching a flaming car crash in real time, Kyle turned his head to witness the scene playing out at a city bus stop. “Of course you do,” the second stranger said. “Everyone has a Mommy and Daddy. Don’t fib. Unless you still think the stork is real?” The two strangers, both women, put their hands to their lips and stifled giggles as if the idea that a grown man might believe in the stork was both natural and condescendingly precious. The boy, a man, actually looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m a Grown-Up. I don’t live with them anymore.” Despite his button up shirt, pleated pants, and loafers, he had the aura of a child who just happened to be dressed up to match Daddy. The fidgeting he was doing could be written off as being very uncomfortable at having his space invaded, or… “Do they know you’re out here all by yourself?” The first lady asked. “No…?” “I don’t think they let babies get on the bus without a guardian.” The second stranger said. The poor man was getting flustered, clenching his fists and fidgeting. “No…no…I don’t need...” “Do you want us to leave you alone?” The first one asked. Right on the heels of the first question, a second one came. “Do you need to go potty?” She addressed her friend. “I don’t think he has any protection on under those pants.” “One tiny tinkle and those pants will be ruined,” the first stranger agreed. “No snaps, either. Makes it more difficult to change. We should help him with that. Wouldn’t want his nice big boy pants to get all yucky because someone had an accident. This bus doesn’t stop for potty breaks.” The poor man finally lost it, overwhelmed, and stamped no foot. “No!” he said. “No! No! No!” “Awwww!” The first stranger said. “Poor thing doesn’t want us to leave him alone all by himself.” The two bullies were pretending that he was answering the first question about leaving him alone and not the full volley of taunts that had followed. “Come on, sugar,” the pair reached out and grabbed his hand, leading him away trembling but powerless to stop them. “We’ll catch the next bus. Let’s make sure you don’t have an accident, first.” The man turned around and flashed a frightened, overwhelmed, frustrated, and yet hopeful gaze behind him as the two strangers led him away, most likely to the closest shop that sold diapers in his size. It was the look of the damned searching for respite. Kyle had seen variations on this scene play out so many times that he’d become practically numb to it. It’s why he enjoyed playgrounds and daycares as much as he did because the worst of the trauma; adoption, had already happened to everyone. Kyle had seen something like this happen at least a hundred times since his own adoption. But never like this. Never with an Amazon man being the target. And never with two Littles being the ones setting him up for failure. That silent look of desperation and commiseration wasn’t directed at Kyle, but at the giant woman pushing his stroller behind him. “Poor thing thinks that just because he’s big means he’s a big boy.” The strangers threw Kyle a knowing conspiratorial wink. “We’ll help teach him the difference. Being an adult and being mature aren’t the same thing.” Kyle popped his thumb out of his mouth and wiped it on his shirt. “What the fuck?” he mouthed.. “Let’s get some coffee,” Mommy said loud enough so that Kyle could hear. The stroller swung wide and to the right, crossing the street so that they wouldn’t come across the giant who was about to be helplessly babied by people that were barely knee high to her. The bell above the coffee shop door jangled when they entered. It was actually very busy here, with people of all sizes side by side, many of them nervously sipping coffee and staring at a large flat screen T.V. Kyle hadn’t seen so many non-diapered Littles in one place since getting snatched up. Smart Littles tended to avoid Amazon spaces unless they absolutely had to. But here they were making coffee, mopping floors, and cleaning tables. More importantly, they had the strong, cheerful demeanor of someone who felt strong and secure in their work; and not at all intimidated. It was something like a herd of confident antelope trotting around a pride of hungry but oddly out of sorts lions. Kyle blinked and did a double take. Was the only adopted Little in the building? “Hello cutie!” The Tweener behind the counter said. “What can I get for you?” The presence of the black haired Tweener seemed to put Mommy at ease. Amazons liked Tweeners; people that they could boss around and be terrible to without feeling like they had to take care of them. Mommy regained a bit of pep in her step on their way up to the counter. “I’ll have a red eye.” “Say please.” Kyle looked up to see his Mommy flinch. “What?” The Tweener smiled. “I said, ‘say pleeeeease’!” “Please?” “Please what?” Mommy stiffened. “Please, I’d like to order a red eye…?” The woman behind the counter feigned thoughtfulness. “That’s an awful lot of caffeine,” she said. “You’re gonna be bouncing all over the place!” “I know.” Mommy’s tone was turning annoyed. She was struck temporarily mute when the Tweener leaned over the counter and made eye contact with Kyle in his stroller. “Is that okay with you, sir? Can she have a red eye?” Kyle felt his Mommy’s confusion. He was “Uh…yeah. Sure?” “Kay kay.” The cashier punched the order in. “Sorry about that.” Mommy found her voice. “It’s quite alri-” “I should have asked you first on whether she could have that much caffeine, but when she forgot to say please I saw it as a teachable moment.” The Tweener shuddered and gulped. “Not that you don’t teach her manners,” she quickly added. “It’s just that some people need a lot of help in learning. It takes a village, right?” Beads of nervous, confused sweat were forming on Kyle’s forehead. “Um…okay.” “What’s your name?” “Kyle.” “Thank you, Mister Kyle. The red eye will be ready in a minute.” Mommy wheeled him away to a clear table close to the Cafe’s flat screen television. “The nerve of some Tweeners,” she muttered to herself. “Some of them get too big for their britches. I oughta…I oughta…” But Mommy had no more threats. Even idle ones. “We’re back with Helen in the Morning,” the T.V. broadcast. Standing in front of the camera was an Amazon lady in a blue pantsuit with bleached teeth and an artificial tan. Weird that Amazons had perfected nanites that could simulate or relieve diaper rash but hadn’t figured out how to make a convincing tanning bed. “In light of recent news, we’ve rushed in a guest specialist to ask her what’s her opinion on so called current events.” The camera panned over to the big, eggshell white, overly cushy couch, the kind that only seemed to exist on morning talk shows. On it was an Amazon woman “With me today,” Helen prattled on, “is renowned Child and Little psychologist, Dr. Margaret Jameson. The so-called psychologist wore a yellow turtleneck sweater and jeans. She looked more like a Kindergarten teacher than a doctor. Amazons, however, sometimes had the privilege of being underdressed. “Dr. Jameson, what do you think of the current panic that’s being reported on?” The psychologist shrugged with practiced ease. “Well Helen, as we all know, Littles make up for their innate lack of maturity and reason with overactive imaginations. So it’s no surprise to me that Littles,” she paused for a drink of water from one of the show’s coffee mugs, “Littles who either have or are on the verge of full blown Maturosis but have yet to find Adoption are concocting these overly elaborate stories.” “So you think this is, what?” the talk show host asked, “Little propaganda?” The psychologist fake laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, Helen. Propaganda is such a malicious word. Such a mean spirited one. It’s too…too…” “Grown-Up?” “Precisely,” the psychologist said. “This is all just a very silly joke that some very clever Littles with more creativity than sense cooked up.” “Excuse me!” A voice chirped in from the crowd. “I’ve got something to say!” The camera panned around to a Little boy standing on an audience chair. He was waving his hand and hopping up and down to be seen since the middle aged Amazon women in front of him were still taller than him despite being seated. This Little wasn’t one that was allowed to live as an adult, either. Unadopted Littles didn’t wear dalmatian spotted overalls that stopped at the knees. Nor did they tend to have such perfectly formed freckles on their cheeks. The boy could have been someone that Kyle had met on the playground. Heads turned and a collective. “Awwwwww!” reverberated through the studio audience. “It looks like we’ve got someone who wants to share with us,” Helen said. “Come on down, kiddo!” The invitation was met with thunderous applause and Helen got herself a photo op by climbing the stairs and carrying him down after the halfway point. When things had settled down, the Little boy stood in front of the couch, and the talk show host squatted down to hold a microphone to his mouth. “Well hello there!” The psychologist beamed like she was talking to a toddler. “What’s your name?” “My name is Maxwell MaGee, but my Mommy and Daddy call me Maxie and their last name is Sanders.” “Well, Maxie Sanders,” the psychologist said, “what would you like to say?” “I just wanted to let you know that Mommy and Daddy agree with everything you just said. They tell me that Littles are just babies that don’t grow up no matter how old we get.” “And are they right, Maxie?” “No,” the Little boy said sweetly. “They’re not. Amazons are the real babies. They’re just big babies who treat people smaller than them like baby dolls.” No scoffs came, just tittering laughter aimed at a child who didn’t know what he was talking about. Back in the cafe, Kyle looked down at himself. He fit that mold perfectly. For the first time in a long time he felt emotionally invested enough to feel ashamed of himself, for his state of dress. Carefully, Kyle unclipped the pacifier from his shirt and lowered it to the ground… “Really?” the psychologist said. “Do they change your diapers for you?” “Not any more!” Maxie said proudly. “I got to use the big boy potty! All by myself!” A third wave of ‘Awwwws’ bubbled up. “Your Mommy and Daddy let you go potty all by yourself?” Helen asked. Maxie paused and smiled deviously. “No.” Helen leaned in. “Where are your Mommy and Daddy, sweety pie?” “I dropped them off at daycare,” Maxie said with complete and utter seriousness. “They’re the ones in diapers now.” Kyle was beginning to think that this Little boy wasn’t a ‘Maxie’ as much as a ‘Maxwell’. Come to think of it, he looked a little thinner in the middle. It was hard to tell on camera, but he didn’t have that certain roundness between his legs that most Littles had. The psychologist crossed her legs, casually. “It sounds like someone has a very active imagination! Aren’t Littles the best? So cute! So precious! Always pretending to be more mature than they really are!” The laughter this time was more nervous than delighted or charmed. “It’s not pretend, Doctor.” the Little on T.V. said, snatching the microphone away from the talk show host. “It’s the truth. You’ve all been fibbing this whole time. We’ve all just finally figured out the truth.” “What truth?” the psychologist scoffed. “That Littles can’t be independent? That they need Amazons to take care of them? That they do this all for free and at no cost to the Littles?” The grin on the Little’s face became positively devilish. Like he knew a secret no one else did. “Oh really? Is that the truth as you see it? My, my, what a fantastic imagination!” Rumbles and grumbles were moving through the studio audience. Something was happening. “I think you were naughty and ran away from your Mommy and Daddy,” the psychologist said. “I think you’re telling fibs to make yourself feel bigger and more mature than you really are. Maybe we should call some real adults to get you back home where you belong.” She sniffed and smiled, “and get you changed. Someone had an accident.” No condescending laughter rang out this time. “Oh, I’m not the one who’s having an accident,” the Little on T.V. replied curtly. “Well of course you’d think that,” the Amazon replied. “Littles can never tell when they need changing. That’s kind of the point.” Kyle looked down at himself and gave himself a pat and a squeeze. Still dry. That was weird. He’d have half expected himself to be at least a little wet by now. The unsupervised Little on television closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them again, they narrowed, suspiciously. “Who’s checked you, Doctor Jameson?” he asked. “Why aren’t you wearing your diaper like a good girl?” “I don’t need them,” the woman who’d shown up for a T.V. interview in jeans, laughed. “Amazons don’t experience Maturosis, silly boy. Only Littles and the occasional Tweener.” There was a mean smile on the Little’s face. “Are you sure about that, cupcake? Uncross your legs.” “Hm?” The woman spread her legs out and looked down aghast at the spreading wet patch on the front of her denim pants. “Wha-? No!” The only thing the big woman had the presence of mind to do was stand up and let the puddle continue to stream down her thighs, dripping onto the studio floor. She was so humiliated she didn’t even have the presence of mind to cup her hands over her crotch or otherwise hide the sight of the very real, very public accident. Kyle could relate to that. That had been his face to a tee way back before his pants were padded full time. “Awwww,” the Little man cooed. “Is the big girl having a potty accident? You better have diapers in a bigger size than that, Helen.” “Th-th-th-” she stuttered. “This is not happening!” “Babies,” Maxwell crowed. “Such big imaginations they have. I hope you have some pretty big diapers backstage, Helen. You’re gonna need them.” The talk show host nearly dropped her mic. “Huh?” she grunted. “No! No-no-no! I’m not gonna…hnnng…I’m not changing her!” “I know,” the LIttle said. “But someone is going to need to change you. It wasn’t me your baby friend was sniffing” The camera switched angles to catch the lump forming in the back of Helen’s pantsuit skirt.. “You’re pooping, Helen. Right here. Right now. In front of everyone. You’re pooping.” Shocked screams exploded out from the Amazons in the studio. The host started to panic. “Uhh! Hrrnnn! We’re gonna take another commercial break but we’ll be right back! And in our next segment we’re gonna show you how to change a really big…baby’s…diaper..?” She blanched, not at what was going on in her pants, but at what she’d just said. “Hey! Why’s that on the teleprompter!? And who are you? You're not my producer!” The signal went black and the station switched over to an advertisement for Monkeez diapers, featuring a diapered Little pretending to play football with real Amazon toddlers… “This is ridiculous,” an Amazon woman said. Kyle looked back over to the counter. Two giantesses were pointing to their coffee cups, specifically the lids. “What’s the meaning of this?” “Those are safety lids,” the Tweener behind the counter smiled, courteously. “Coffee is very hot. You wouldn’t want it to spill all over you or it could burn and give you an owie.” The second Amazon at the counter scoffed. “We can’t remove the lids!” “It wouldn’t be very safe if you could, would it?” The Tweener made a shooing gesture and turned her back. “Drink your bean water, hun. Go on'' She looked at the next cup of coffee. “Kyle? Red eye for Kyle?” The two oversized Karens didn’t walk away. “They look like sippy cups!” The Tweener glanced at the lids and puckered her lips. “Huh. They kinda do.” She thought better of it right away. “I mean, no they don’t. Those are safety lids. And they’re only for special big girls just like you. Isn’t that neat?” A beat. “Kyle? I’ve got a red eye for Kyle!” “Mommy!” Kyle hissed. “That’s you.” Mommy rattled her head, breaking out of some kind of trance. Her eyes hadn’t left the television set since before it cut to commercial. ‘Huh? What?” She rubbed her eyes the way that people do when they’ve just woken up from a dream. “Oh yeah!” “Red eye? Kyle?” “Actually,” Mommy said. “That’s mine. Kyle’s my Little.” The Tweener brushed her hair back. “Oh yeah. Right. Just a sec.” She slapped a white plastic lid over the cup, same as with the other two ladies in front of her. Kyle did a quick, baffled scan of the room. Only the Amazons had the white plastic sippy lids on their cups. Everyone else drank their coffee like adults. Again, she leaned over the table. “Sorry about that sir.” “Uh..no problem?” Mommy started sipping her coffee through the lid without complaint. The two giantesses before her were also drinking from their definitely-not-sippy cups, just not without complaint. “Can you bewieve that mean ol’ Tweenuh?” “I know! We should tawk to the bossy boss!” “Yeah! Tell ‘em she’s bein’ a big ol’ meanie doo-doo head!” Something clicked upstairs in both Amazons at the same time. “Why awe you tawkin’ wike dat?” Her companion growled. “You duh one tawkin wike a baby!” “Nuh-uh!” “Uh-huh!” “Nuh-uh!” “Uh-...” Both stopped talking and gasped. Two puddles of warm pee were trickling down at their feet. One of them had more than just a puddle, with a solid lump sagging from the pack of her slacks. “Clean up!” The Tweener called. “Big babies had an accident in their pants!” She sighed in disgust. “Again!” A crew of Littles with mops zipped in and started wiping up the mess. Two more took each of them by the wrist and with impossible strength started to lead them towards the restroom. “Come on, baby girl,” the Little coffee shop worker cooed. “Let’s get you changed.” “Noooooo!” the Amzaon who had only wet her pants shrieked. “No baby! No baby! Nooooo baby!” “Let’s just get you taken care of, dear.” The two giants dug their heels in. It did nothing to slow their progress to the restrooms marked with helpful plaques indicating Baby/Little changing stations inside. Someone had put a strip of masking tape and written “Amazon” over the “Little” section in black marker. Pulling against the Littles, the one of them, the one who had done more than just pee her pants fell onto her backside. Her lip trembled for a second and then she started screaming, “NOOOOO! NO! NO BABY! NO BOOM BOOM! NO GOO GOO GA GA! NO BABY DIAPEE BOOM BOOM!” Her cohort couldn’t even say that much, her speech regressing to nothing more than repeated babbling syllables. “Gooo-goo-ag-ga-ag-ag-ag-gaaaa!” And the first wasn’t far behind. Within seconds, ‘Diapee’ and ‘boom boom’ would be too complex for their mouths to form. The Little employee patted the blubbering giant on the top of her hand as she dropped to her knees. “Of course you didn’t go boom boom in your diaper, sweet pea. You’re not wearing one. Let’s go fix that. Then you can finish your coffee.” The women crawled on three limbs the rest of the way to the lady’s room to be changed, her hand still being held. The Tweener behind the counter shook her head and Kyle heard her mutter. “Amazons. Seriously. Why can’t they just accept that they need help?” Mommy hurried herself and Kyle out of the store. Her red eye was dumped into the nearest potted plant. “This is not happening,” Mommy said. “This is not happening. This is just a dream. Only a dream.” Kyle felt her pat him on the top of his head. “Right baby?” Kyle didn’t answer. “Oh right. Babies don’t talk. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” The world whipped by at nearly breakneck speed. The “stroller” was now effectively a “sprinter”. Kyle turned his head this way and that. All around him he caught familiar scenes cast with different players. “I’m not a baby!” “Uh oh. Big girl isn’t so big!” “Come here honey. You’re going to look so adorable with a shave and a sailor suit.” “Why do Amazons even bother trying to grow up? They’re just going to fail anyway. Much easier for everyone involved if they just find a nice Little Mommy or Daddy to take care of their mush tushes.” Every line, every condescending taunt, every cooing syllable, had the sweet acidity of someone delivering the world’s cruelest joke. The pounding of Mommy’s shoes sputtered and then changed to the slapping of her bare feet. “Gotta get to the daycare! Gotta get to the daycare!” Poor thing had lost her shoes. “We’ll just get you to daycare, and I’ll go to work and everything will be okay!” A devilish grin flashed across Kyle’s mug. “Mommy? Did you lose your shoes? Maybe you should switch to velcro!” “Baby!” Mommy barked. “Not now!” Kyle tittered with laughter anyways, suddenly much less afraid. Mommy was panting when they ran up to the daycare. She shuffled around to the front of the stroller, diaper bag slung over her shoulder, and unbuckled Kyle from his restraints. “Come on, Kyle,” she panted, “Let’s get you settled in and Mommy will-” The front door to the daycare burst open. “Don’t! A daycare worker screamed out. Run! Save yourself!” Mommy froze. Kyle gawked. Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t just an employee, but the proprietor of the daycare itself. Neither Kyle nor Mommy recognized her at first glance. How could they? Her graying hair was up in pigtails. Her face was covered in stickers. Her arms were scribbled on in markers. A giant, obviously wet diaper, was taped to her hips and hung between her thighs. She was missing her glasses too. If not for the daycare’s signature polo shirt uniform that she always wore she might have been completely unrecognizable. “Leave!” The woman screamed. “Before it’s too late!” Behind her, more crying and protests of ‘I’m not the baby! I’m your Mommy!” bled out into the open air. Kyle looked around the daycare’s parking lot. There weren’t usually that many cars here at one time. Amazons would just drop off their Littles and leave. “I’m an adult! A grown-up! A big girl! A biiiiiiig girrrrl!” They weren’t leaving… “They’re making us finger paint!” Mrs. Abernathy cried, her tears wetting the sunshine smiley stickers on her cheeks. “Finger paint!” “There you are, Michelle!” A Little woman, dressed like an employee came out and grabbed Mrs. Abernathy by the hand. “I can’t take my eyes off of you for a second, can I missy?” “Please…” Mrs. Abernathy sniffled. “Don’t do this to me.” “You’ll feel much better after a change. Then we’ll film you playing with all of your Amazon friends and you’ll be so cute you’ll get Adopted into a good Little home in no time.” Mrs. Abernathy started bawling beyond words. The Little finally seemed to notice Kyle and Mommy. “Oh sorry about that. You know how it is.” She was talking to Kyle and only to Kyle. “Are you checking her in?” Mommy let out a wordless scream and ran away with Kyle in her arms, cackling with abandon! Normally, if he laughed this hard he’d expect his pants to be wet but his diaper was still as dry as a bone. The juice wasn’t going through him. “Careful, baby!” Random passerby called after Mommy. “Uh oh.” “Someone needs a timeout.” “She is going to get such a spanking when this is over…” “Don’t you be like that one, Pamela. You suck your binkie like a good big baby.” In the distance, a billboard was being papered over. It was still a diaper ad, but the drooling, toothless models were no longer Littles. Traffic was at a standstill; Amazons were being strapped into newly enlarged car seats, gagged with pacifiers and diapers splaying their legs apart. Littles were busily installing booster pedals and seats so that they could drive. Amazons moaned and cried out from top of the line remote controlled carriages, piloted by Mommies and Daddies much much smaller than them. “Why?” Mommy panted. “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” She tripped over something. Only soft grass broke her and Kyle’s fall. “Whyyyyyy?!” “Because you deserve it.” Kyle answered. He stood up and brushed the freshly mowed grass clipping off of his thighs. Mommy had managed to make it all the way back to the park before breaking down. “Because you deserve it.” Repeating his damning accusation with a cold relishing” He toddled over to the diaper bag and dug out a pair of shorts. Deftly, he slid them up over his hips, covering the diaper. Then, he reached into his pants and pulled the sticky tabs loose, ripping the diaper off of him while keeping his modesty intact. “No!” Mommy slammed her fist into the ground. “No! This isn’t supposed to happen this way! I’m the adult! I’m the Mommy! I’m the big girl!” She stood up. “Susan!” Kyle exclaimed. It felt amazing calling her by her first name. “Are your pants wet?” There was no puddle beneath her. She looked down at herself and her face melted. “Yes, Kyle…” “Do big girls go pee-pee in their pants?” “No, Kyle…” “Did you know you went pee-pee in your pants?” “N…” she stopped herself. “Yes, Kyle.” “Why didn’t you stop and tell Daddy that you had an accident?” He felt himself stand a bit taller, a bit stronger calling himself ‘Daddy.’ Susan looked ashamed. “I was busy…running.” “Playing you mean?” “Yes, Kyle…” “What?” “Yes…Daddy.” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “No, Daddy.” Kyle walked around her and inspected the back of her pants. Goodness it felt amazing to be able to take a step without hearing the soft plastic crinkle coming from behind him. A quick breeze carried the fetid scent of what Susan had done to herself. “Susie! Are your pants messy” “Yes, Daddy.” “What?” Susie stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Yesh, Daddy.” “Do big girls go poopy in their pants?” “No, Daddy.” “Did you know you’d had an accident.” “Yesh, Daddy.” “Then why didn’t you tell Daddy you had an accident? “I wush pwayin’...” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” Susie, formerly Mommy, was quivering. “No, Daddy.” He walked back around and bid her come closer to the ground so that she could look him in the eyes. “Amazons,” he said once she was crawling on all fours. “What would you do without us?” Susie just softly cried. “What happens to big girls who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?” Kyle asked. Time to finish her programing. “They get shpankt” Susie mumbled. “What happens to babies who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?’ Susie winced like she’d just been slapped in the face, or more likely, just bitten her thumb. Then said, “They gesh a diapher chahshe.” “Why?” “Cush dere Daddiesh wuf dem.” Kyle patted her on the head and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s right.” He went back over to the diaper bag and pulled out the changing mat. It was big enough to fit even an Amazon. Kyle thought nothing of it. “Lay down.” Susie popped her thumb out of her mouth “Here? Now” “Your panties were clean when we left the house, young lady.” Kyle said. “That means you had your accident out here in public in front of all your Amazon friends. If you can go in your pants, in public you can get cleaned up in public.” Weeping, Susie crawled over to the changing mat and layed down. Kyle reached his hand into the bag and pulled out the perfect diaper. Just like what he used to wear, but sized for a very, very, big baby. “Ooops!” he said. “Daddy almost forgot!” He slapped his forehead. “Silly Daddy!” He took out the pack of baby wipes. “Before I put you all nice and cozy in your diaper I’ve gotta clean up your accident.” That got a mumbled moan of despair from around the Amazon’s thumb. Kyle put the wipes down by Susie’s knees and bent over Susie’s waist, deftly unbuttoning her pants for her. She didn’t have any snaps, so it was nothing at all for his tiny fingers to unfasten the big buttons and unzip her pants for her. In the near future, he’d make sure to get her a proper onesie; one with strong little sized buttons that big clumsy baby Amazon fingers wouldn’t be able to manipulate. It wouldn’t do to have a baby try to go streaking, or worse yet, dress like a big girl. Using leverage and just a tiny bit of effort, Kyle pushed her knees up to her stomach. “Hold it for me,” he instructed. Obediently, his former Mommy did. “Good girl.” He yanked the pants off her hips, followed by her soiled, filthy panties. Susie’s mewling cries doubled over as she felt the sick mess pull away from her delicate skin. “I know, I know.” Kyle shushed. “It doesn’t feel good to have an accident in your big girl undies. That’s why you shouldn’t be wearing them.” Without him having to tell her, she lowered her legs and outstretched them so that he could take her shoes and socks off followed by her soiled pants and undergarments. They were left in a pile in the grass. He’d pick them up later after he got Susie sorted out. “You’ll feel much better in a nice clean diaper,” he promised. It was a lie, of course, or rather a half truth. Clean diapers only felt good in comparison because dirty diapers happened, and one inevitably led to another. More importantly, diapering her made clean up easier when he wouldn’t have to slide the soiled padding all the way off Susie’s ankles. One step at a time, though… “Okay. Lift one more time for Daddy.” He instructed. “Good girl.” Wipe after wipe, Tommy started cleaning her bottom. Taking extra care to wipe the laminated mat that had become stained with her feces. A diaper would definitely help this in the future. “Gotta wipe the baby nice and clean,” he told her. “And get rid of her mess.” Susie was taking it rather well. She was only quietly crying now, resigned to her fate. Just as he had been once upon a time. Time for the piece de resistance. With both hands he unfolded the giant diaper. Had it been on him, it would have dwarfed him, coming up to his armpits and being too baggy. On her though, it would be just right. Not wanting to make a rookie mistake, he eyed the tapes and slid the diaper the right way under his new charge’s elevated bottom. “Okay…” he said. Susie lowered her hips. A second round of wipes was taken to Susie’s front side. He wasn’t going to let her get a rash because he was more focused on the solid waste and forget about the glistening droplets of urine clinging to her pubic area. “We’re going to have to get rid of all this big girl hair later,” he tutted. “Mo…” Susie mumbled. “Non’t” “Are you a big girl?” Kyle asked. Susie remained silent, sucking her thumb. “Exactly. Don’t worry though. We’ll take care of that later tonight using the special shampoos you keep under the sink.” Susie sometimes threatened to make Kyle a bald baby if he misbehaved. Now the bootie was on the other foot. Oh she’d look adorable in just a diaper, bonnet, and booties! A note for later! Leaving her waiting on the open diaper, Kyle backtracked to the diaper bag one last time. “Let’s help the baby smell nice and clean.” He said. The cloud of powder he dusted her with was enormous. “Will definitely need to get rid of that big girl hair though…” Finally, enjoying it, saving the moment, he pulled the diaper up between Susie’s spread thighs, making sure to center the front and pull it taut so it tucked neatly into the back as he taped the first side. A quick scramble over to the other side so he could tape it nice and snug, completing her well deserved and much needed reduction of status. He panted lighty and proclaimed her “Done!” He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. Taking care of big babies really was hard work, but it certainly was rewarding. Susie tried to sit up, but the sheer mass of the plastic backed padding gave her difficulty. Kyle’s firm and steady hand touched her shoulder and guided her back down to the grass. “Not yet, Susie,” he told her. “Not yet.” One final trip to the diaper bag yielded a very big baby bottle, filled with nice cold milk. Confident and satisfied, Kyle strode over to the Amazon’s head and made her lift it so that he could position his legs underneath them. “Here you go,” he offered her the bottle. “Drink up.” She did, her lips puckering and suckling on the rubber teat. “Good girl,” he said. “Drink up. Make it all gone.” The stuff in that bottle, he knew, would make her a very good girl and ensure that she didn’t need those pesky big girl panties for as long as the stuff was in her system. She’d get used to sitting and nursing and playing in a wet diaper soon enough. Messy diapers would follow. Kyle was just helping things along. Content at last, Kyle closed his eyes and breathed in his moment of victory. “I get it, now.” He said to himself. “I really get it.” There in the darkness behind his closed eyes, Kyle sighed luxuriously as his new big baby suckled on her bottle, (the first of many) and shifted and crinkled in her diaper (the first of many). Slowly, the darkness swirled into mist, as darkness does between dreams, and the scene faded from Kyle’s mind’s eye if not his memory. The sound of Susie sucking on her ba-ba yet lingered. Slowly, very slowly, his brain wishing for sleep that his body no longer required, Kyle’s eyes opened. Just past the Little boy’s nose was his balled up fist. The sound of sucking that had stuck with him had been him suckling on his own thumb. Just a dream. But, oh, what a dream! A slight creaking of floorboards and hinges, and the door to Kyle’s nursery opened and Mommy’s voice sang out. “Wakey wakey!” She said, “Did my baby boy enjoy his afternoon nap?” A petite yawn later, and Kyle slowly sat back up in his crib. The afternoon sun shone past the thin pastel blue curtains of his babified bedroom. The feeling of his soaked diaper squishing beneath his weight was a gentle reminder that he was back in the real world. His mouth hadn’t quite caught up to his brain, however. “Huh? Wha? Susie?” Mommy cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t even thought of her as anything other than ‘Mommy’ for a long time. She’d broken him of that habit a long long time ago; or so they both had thought. “What was that?” Kyle’s mind went into overdrive as unconscious and conscious thoughts traded places and memory of the real world kicked into high gear. The soaking wet diaper between his legs helped. He’d been laid down clean and dry. “Sorry Mommy. I was having a dream.” Mommy approached the crib and picked him up. “About what?” “A girl at my daycare,” he lied. Kyle was soon plopped on the changing table, which was a much better place than over Mommy’s knee. “Oh.” Mommy said. “That makes sense.” She undid the tapes on his diaper and started wiping him. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to see all your Little friends and Mrs. Abernathy at daycare tomorrow.” Kyle started sucking his thumb. “Yesh, Mommy.” He couldn’t help but smile. Wow! What a dream. It was just a dream, but it was a really nice dream. One that made the Little boy both a tiny bit sad, and very very happy. “I love you, baby boy.” “Yesh, Mommy.” Kyle lied through his teeth and over his thumb. “I love you too.” He’d be holding onto the image of Susie crying and laying down to get her diaper changed like a big dumb baby for as long as he lived. Even as a dream, it was better than nothing. If he could, he’d tell all the other kids at daycare tomorrow… (The End)