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College Or Cribs?


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On 5/13/2019 at 10:08 PM, Shawnie said:

*Pokes @Personalias  Maybe update this pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee ?

If (IF) I get to this. It'll be this summer when I have free time and energy)
 

 

6 hours ago, DiaperBoy37 said:

If he does he needs to repost the story. 

If (IF) I get to this, I will definitely be reposting the story, and it'll be a chapter at a time, one chapter a day, and the whole of the work will be completed.

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On 5/8/2013 at 2:07 PM, Personalias said:

They were either babified in some kind of prison (nope), being mentally regressed (um....not sure but for the most part nope), being physically regressed (unless his mind was just picturing himself as an adult to cope, nope), being purposefully babied by cruel parents as an overblown punishment (nope), or reality had altered (check) where everyone his age and younger was treated like a baby (nope). Though there was that one story where the girl's wish kept getting misinterpreted and twisted so she was being treated younger and younger and nobody seemed to notice. (Bingo) Damn. Chris read a lot of infantilist porn.

Love me some metahumor XD

On 5/8/2013 at 2:07 PM, Personalias said:

That's when Brianna walked up and wordlessly took a seat on the floor next to her siblings. Based on the cover filled with sketches, Chris guessed it was a "How To Draw" book, though he couldn't be sure based on the writing. Strange markings surrounded the covers perimeter like Nordic Runes. Hyper Dislexia.

It's like somebody's hacked into the language center's of his brain and is recoding packets in realtime.... What the fuck? ?? How is this even? Ahh fuck I already filled up the white board with my notes on the Kennedy Assassination..... *scrambles as I hunt for paper....*

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13 hours ago, YourFNF said:

Love me some metahumor XD

It's like somebody's hacked into the language center's of his brain and is recoding packets in realtime.... What the fuck? ?? How is this even? Ahh fuck I already filled up the white board with my notes on the Kennedy Assassination..... *scrambles as I hunt for paper....*

Glad this got your attention.

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4 hours ago, Personalias said:

Glad this got your attention.

It's definetly interesting. Did this one get wiped in the crash? I noticed Ch.7-8 were missing

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8 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

It's definetly interesting. Did this one get wiped in the crash? I noticed Ch.7-8 were missing

Huh...that is weird.  Um...maybe?  It's not finished, but I've got waaaaay more than that much.  Check out my da page?  https://www.deviantart.com/personalias  It has its own folder near the top left?

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7 minutes ago, Personalias said:

Huh...that is weird.  Um...maybe?  It's not finished, but I've got waaaaay more than that much.  Check out my da page?  https://www.deviantart.com/personalias  It has its own folder near the top left?

?

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On 3/2/2014 at 4:01 PM, Personalias said:

Chapter 11: The Times They Are A Changin’

 

"Then everything went quiet. Dead quiet. Chris looked up, teary eyed. Roxanne was frozen, her mouth still open to shout down the hallway. But she didn’t move. Chris looked to his side and found Wubby clutched in his arms. He tried to toss the bear away, but his hands wouldn’t let go. He tried to stand up so he could pitch it out the window, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate.

Chris managed to get a look at his computer. The screen flashed 12:00. Midnight. The air seemed to shimmer like a mirage in the desert. Then Chris’s room began to change. "

.....

Welp things just went full on off the rails  ? Like that is some freaky shit

giphy.gif

"Finally, he felt his underwear getting thicker, and a noticeable bulge formed in the onesie, while the tell-tale crinkling of a diaper filled his ears. The leggings of his boxer briefs shrunk and withered down into the diaper’s leak guards.
He was now sitting in a very wet and leaky diaper, in a crib with urine soaked sheets. His face was red from crying and the tears had not yet dried. Snot bubbles clung to his nose and his breathing was still labored from the sobbing. The transformation complete, a little voice whispered in his head “bye-bye”. Chris looked down and only saw Wubby’s beady black eyes staring at him.

Roxanne remained in place, frozen in time during all of this. Then the clock struck 12:01. Roxanne moved again. Her demeanor changed from a genuinely scared woman to a doting caregiver.
“What’s the matter baby boy?” she cooed walking towards the crib. “Did you have a nightmare, Chris?”

Chris shook his head sniffling. He knew better than to talk. It wouldn’t do any good right now, and right when he really needed someone to talk to.

Roxanne sniffed the air and caught the heavy whiff of ammonia. She took the sheets from the crib and rubbed a wet section between her thumb and forefinger. “Awww, sweetie, did you have an accident?” she asked in motherese. Chris didn’t deign to respond. They both knew.

“It’s okay Christopher,” Roxanne spoke into the baby monitor using her “adult voice”. “It’s just a leaky diaper and a wet bed. I’ll take care of it.” Then she picked Chris up out of his crib and held him close. “I know, I know,” she shushed. "

giphy.gif

 

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On 3/11/2014 at 6:22 PM, Personalias said:

College or Cribs: Chapter 13- Just Go With It.

 

Okay this is just hilarious...

"
“Then just hold it for him for a little while, hon, we’re almost to the mall anyways.” The taste of the apple juice was sweet but the taste of making Brianna his bitch was sweeter. He gulped and gulped and gulped some more, all while his sister held the bottle and sighed dejectedly.

Finally, the mom-mobile came to a complete stop, and Chris decided to take the bottle from his sister."

?

"Chris opened both his eyes now. Out from the doors of the arcade came an oddly dressed old man. His pants were black with purple stripes and baggy, while he wore black and white wingtip shoes. His red and yellow checkered shirt was partially covered by a red and black polka dotted vest. His white goatee came out to a devilish point and his mustache curled in a way to make even Snidely Whiplash envious. His hair sprang out wildly from underneath his top hat. Despite being obviously very spry, the man was 80 if he was a day.

But most noticeably of all, to Chris at least, was the ring on the old man’s right middle finger. It was gold with a very familiar looking ruby in it that sparkled and danced as the mall’s fluorescent lighting hit it. The old man looked at the whole family, and then he looked over at Chris and his gaze stopped dead. He looked over at Chris, and winked.

He knew! "

 

Oh shit! It's the mastermind. Fuck is it a Reptilian? No... reality manipulation isn't their thing. Oh fuck is it a trickster entity. *hides behind column as I frantically tap on a holographic display output....*

 

.....

.....

 

Just finished Ch. 14..... New theory is that this is guy is a latent mage who's powers are awaking.... ?

Also suspect little big sis a latent... ABDL ?

 

Ch. 15

Called it ?

 

Ch. 16

Oh FUCK!!! FEY!!! Makes warding gesture and benny hill sprints to the armory and grabs an olive drab box labeled in yellow paint. First Iron (Spirit Killer) Munitions AP/SABOT 7.62x13mm NATO and grabs a fist full stuffing them into a an empty mag....

 

Ch. 17 As basically an overgrown teenager who likes diapers I really feel for Sammy ?

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On 9/18/2014 at 5:09 PM, Personalias said:

Chapter 18: Playdate

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” came a howl that could be heard from the driveway.

“And I think my little girl just had her big accident.” Barbara shook her head. “That’s my cue.” And the two women hugged before parting

Okay that was hilarious, fucked up, but hilarious. ?? Still..... Damn it Barbara... That is not how you handle your kids emotional insecurities....

 

....

"ELSEWHEN- THE BEGINNING OF MANKIND. EITHER A FEW THOUSAND OR SEVERAL MILLION YEARS AGO (DEPENDING ON WHO YOU ASK): "

I love this line it's like some straight Terry Pratchett shit... ? @Personalias

>>>

And suddenly this turns into "Good Omens" ?

 

Ch. 19

Fuck I'm glad I have my medical advocate paperwork filled out. Although no matter how many precautions I would not want to be in this poor bastards shoes right now....

 

////

 

Also I think I get it now... This is like one of the more progressive theological interpretations. Where the fall was all part of divine plan. Necessary for humans to achieve there full potential. Chris's choice to stay in a paradise innocent or move on to the next stage is the central conflict.... Why the fuck the fate of humanity is playing out as one rando's Freudian conflict though I have no fucking clue.... ??

 

All can say is this way above my paygrade....

Peace *attempts to activate vortex manipulator, it fails*

Fuck...

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On 10/26/2014 at 7:04 PM, Personalias said:

Chapter 20: The Wake

Yeash..... I know the judgmental over controling parent thing all to well ? What did this poor kid do to deserve this?

 

Ch. 24

I wonder what happens if you tell the magic power stone maguffins to fuck off? Like literally just "Peace" and start walking away....

But seriously this is some amazing contemporary fantasy writing, like professional grade. @Personalias

 

Chapter 26:  Kinda-Sorta-Not Quite-Semi-Divine-Intervention!

That title XD

 

Just wow....

Honestly knowing that The Powers^TM can't resist a good mind fuck I'd probably end up doing padded penance if there was actually an afterlife.... ?

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On 4/30/2016 at 10:27 PM, Personalias said:

College or Cribs- Chapter 27

 

Monday Afternoon: Then and Now.

 

 

 

Okay I'm confused it's just the Title and I can't find it in the DA folder? @Personalias

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35 minutes ago, YourFNF said:

Okay I'm confused it's just the Title and I can't find it in the DA folder? @Personalias

Monday Afternoon- Last Summer

Chris sat lazily on the couch that Monday afternoon. Dad and Roxanne were out with the girls, and he had the house to himself. He had just been out on a date with Sherry the night before, and had slept in till the crack of noon. Life was good.

Then came a knock at the door. Who could that be? Chris looked down at himself. He was still in pajama bottoms and a blue t-shirt. He wasn’t exactly ready to go out on the town, but he was presentable enough for the UPS guy.

Chris recognized the small, frail, silhouette of his visitor through the blurred glass doors before he even opened them. 

“Grandma?” Chris asked as he opened the door.

“Chris!” Grandma Cole smiled genuinely; her mouth shaped dentures a little too small for her mouth and her eyes magnified by thick glasses a little too big for her head. She stepped in and gave her grandson a hug, burying her head in his chest- he was a good foot and half taller than her.

“My, you’re looking more like your father every time I see you,” she smiled, pulling back to take her grandson in. 

“Even the hair?” Chris asked shaking the mop top he was sporting.

“Especially the hair,” Grandma Cole replied. “You wouldn’t believe it, Chris, but your father was almost a hippy, he kept his hair so long.”

“My dad?” Chris found it a little hard to believe.

“Your grandfather almost believed,” Grandma Cole added, “that your father would be the first male doctor with a pony tail.” 

“No way.” Chris definitely couldn’t believe that. Christopher Cole III, M.D. was as clean cut as they came. Army Drill Sergeants had longer hair than Dr. Cole.

“Why’s he keep it so short?” Chris asked, walking deeper into the house with his grandmother.

“I think it was just a phase,” Grandma Cole answered. “Young men rebel against their fathers from time to time.” Dr. Cole as a rebel: That was even more far-fetched than him as a long-haired hippie. 

“Well, thanks for coming by, Grandma, but Dad’s not here right now.” Chris told his grandmother, “Can I take a message?”

“Well I’m not here for your father,” Grandma Cole said. “I’m here for you.”

“Oh…” was all Chris said. “Um…well let me get dressed into something more appropriate for visitors or something.”

“Oh nonsense,” Grandma Cole laughed, her silvery curls bouncing as she chuckled. “There’s no reason for that. I just came to give a gift.”

“A gift?” Chris repeated.

“Here,” Grandma Cole reached into her purse and withdrew a check. “A little summer spending money.”

Chris glanced down politely at the check. “That’s more than a little spending money, Grandma.”

“Well I’m going to be dead, one day, Chris,” Grandma Cole said plainly but warmly, “but that doesn’t mean I have to wait to give some of it away.”

“But…I…”

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘can’t’ young man, you’re going to break an old woman’s heart.”

Chris shut his mouth.

“Good,” she nodded.

“But…why?” Chris asked.

“It’s family tradition, of course.” Grandma Cole told Chris.

“When your father was about your age,” Grandma Cole explained, “just getting ready to apply for med-school, your great-grandfather, the first Doctor Cole gave him some money. Save it. Spend it. Throw it in the garbage. Just use it how you like.” 

“And dad saved it.” Chris concluded.

“Oh goodness no!” Grandma Cole practically guffawed. “Your father was never particularly good with money. He blew it all on a down payment for a fancy new car. It’s the Cole wives that have historically been the at home accountants and what not. There was a joke going around at the time that your mother’s degree in accounting made for a marriage of convenience.”

“Oh…”

“But they loved each other,” Grandma Cole patted Chris on the shoulder, sensing she’d spoken ill of the dead. “The point is though, that your father got a little extra spending money from his grandparents, and now it’s your turn.”

“So this is doctor money,” Chris said.

“Not at all,” Grandma corrected him. “You could be a garbage man, and I’d still write you this check. Your my grandson, and I want to know that you’re being taken care of and enjoying your life.”

“Yeah, but money isn’t everything, Grandma,” Chris told her.

“But it helps,” she smiled. 

“What about Sammy and Bri?” Chris asked.

“Oh they’ll get their shares when they’re old enough to appreciate it,” Grandma assured him. “But you’re the eldest, and with that should come some privileges, don’t you think?”

“Well,” Chris chuckled, looking down at the check. “When you put it that way…”

“So your father never mentioned this little tradition?” Grandma asked. Chris shook his head. “That’s your father for you. So tight lipped. I swear, on his tombstone it will read ‘Christopher Cole the third: Didn’t Complain. Didn’t Explain.’ " she started moving back towards the door. “Well, I’d best be going.”

“Hey Grandma,” Chris called after her. “Don’t leave on my account. Stay awhile.” 

“And do what?” Grandma asked.

“Well,” Chris thought a minute. “Tell me more stuff that I don’t know about my dad?”

Grandma Cole smiled. “I’d like that.”

She stayed for hours and told him stories of a different Christopher Cole, III M.D. than Chris had ever known or imagined. In his youth, he didn’t seem to resemble the tight lipped, almost stoic man that Chris’s father was now; and definitely the disgusted, judgmental, and distant man that Chris would encounter nearly a year later.

Monday Afternoon- This Summer.

Chris sat stewing in his playpen while the rest of the family busied themselves along their daily routines. Dad watched T.V. while Roxanne cleaned up around the house, and the girls played in the backyard. He hadn’t seen Sherry since a little after midnight on the cusp of Saturday night and Sunday morning, and while the rest of Sunday and this Monday morning had been right out of his fantasies- breast and bottle feedings, diaper changes, high chairs, and yes, playpens- Chris still couldn’t shake the feeling of unease since that dream he had had in the church nursery. 

He had even woken up in a dry diaper. Chris never woke up dry when he was a baby. How messed up was that? Most people his age panicked when they woke up with a wet bed, he was reading dread portents from a dry pair of Pampers. Life, lately, was…complicated to say the least.

Then came a knock at the door. Who could that be? Instinctively, Chris looked down at himself. He was just lounging around in nothing but a t-shirt that did nothing to cover his diaper. Roxanne wasn’t planning on taking him out on the town today, hence no cover, but then again, who really cared he was dressed like in this reality?

Dr. Cole got up from his easy chair and walked towards the door. Chris heard the door creak open and Dr. Cole’s voice say “Mom?”

A moment later, Grandma Cole walked into the room, beaming with energy. “Oh there’s my little man!” cooed walking up to the playpen where Chris sat. She reached over the absurdly high rails and tousled Chris’s hair. “He has more hair than you do, Christopher.” Dr. Cole just snorted something that might have been a laugh and nodded. 

“He might be do for his first haircut soon,” Dr. Cole said.

“Now where are my grand-girls?” Grandma asked out loud. 

“I’ll go get them,” Doctor Cole said, walking towards the back door. Grandma, meanwhile continued to coo to Chris and wave to him. Chris for his part, humored her, fake giggling and waving to the old woman.


“My, you’re looking more like your father every time I see you,” she cooed, sure that he wouldn’t understand what she was saying. No further information came from her though. One didn’t tell babies family secrets or speak of times past that they would not understand.

“GRANDMA!” Chris’s sisters shouted in unison as they bum rushed her with hugs. 

“Oh, easy girls!” Grandma Cole gave that weary wry smile of hers. “I’m not a young lady anymore. You could hurt me. Oh but you both are getting so big!”

“So, Mom, what brings you hear,” Dr. Cole asked, looking slightly uneasy. 

“I just thought I’d drop by to give my grandchildren a little gift,” Grandma said matter-of-factly.

“A gift?” Doctor Cole echoed. Grandma Cole reached into her purse and pulled out two checks. “Mom, you don’t mean…?”

“I do indeed,” Grandma Cole stated, handing a check to Samantha and another to Brianna. Both girls looked at their checks, and their jaws dropped.

“Really?” Samantha gawked.

“It’s not even my birthday,” Bri whispered. “It feels like it is, but it’s not.” 

“Mom…” Dr. Cole said, his voice tinged with objection. “Don’t you think the girls are a little young?”

“It’s not my fault, you got married and had children so late in life,” Grandma Cole gently rebuked her son. “I’m going to be dead, one day, Christopher, but that doesn’t mean I have to wait to give some of it away.”

“They’re not even in middle school,” Dr. Cole objected.

“I will be this fall,” Samantha reminded her father. Her tongue withered in her mouth at her father’s glare.

“It’s my decision of when to give the gift,” Grandma said, putting his cole.

“I was in college-” Dr. Cole began. 

“Yes, but this way you can be sure that they won’t spend it on a car like you did,” Grandma cut Chris’s dad off. “Anyways, Samantha and Brianna’s hair is just as long as yours was back then.”

“Dad had long hair?” Sammy looked at her glowering father with child-like wonder.

“You mean he hasn’t told you girls?” Grandma asked. Both girls shook their heads. “Well why don’t we take a ride to the bank together and Grandma can tell you all about your father when he was a little boy.”

Dr. Cole stood there, simmering as his mother took his two sisters away. So the old man did have weaknesses after all it seemed. Then it occurred to Chris that he wasn’t going with them. He was no longer the eldest and any bond that he and his grandmother had had, was now long forgotten. He was just a baby, now. The third wheel, not entrusted with family secrets. He looked over and made eye contact with his father. Dr. Cole just shook his head and muttered something about his mother before going back to watch the T.V.


December 5th, 1850. Amherst, Massachusetts

“YOU HAVE HAD YOUR MOON!” the two voices boomed in the young woman’s bedroom. “NOW CHOOSE!”

Emily stood there quivering before the glowing blue quill and the radiating red champagne flute. 

Her life had been split in half the last month. It was as if she had been dreaming, but instead of waking up, every few days she’d just find herself in a different dream. In one, she was the finest and most desirable debutant in all of Amherst; every girl’s dream…everything she’d been raised to want to be.

In another dream, she was alone, cut off from the rest of the world. She wasn’t exactly reviled, but had no real personal connections to speak of. It was lonely. It was cold. Yet it offered a type of freedom of perspective that she would never have found otherwise. 

Emily, the beautiful bookworm, whose situation in another lifetime might resemble a certain Disney Princess before crossing pasts with a Beast-who-would-be-Prince, was at an impasse. Would she be the socialite or the shut in? The princess, or the poet?

Elegantly, as she had been trained all her life, she glided across her bedroom towards the champagne flute. She held it in her hand and turned it over, almost tempting the liquid inside to spill over. 

“YOU’VE CHOSEN!” The voice from the champagne glass boomed in triumph. 

“Not quite,” she smiled demurely, throwing the champagne glass to the floor, shattering. “What madness is this?!” The voice pleaded as she walked over the broken glass to take the quill.

Talking more to herself than to either of the cosmic presences in the room, Emily said “Much madness is divinest sense.” With that she chose her new life, completely rejecting the one that society had set in place for her. She would be alone, but she would be alone on her own terms, no one elses.

Emily Dickinson chose the pen. And though she was a complete societal shut-in most of her adult life, she is considered to be one of the most influential American poets today.

Chapter 28
Tuesday Night- Guy’s Night In.

“Alright,” Roxanne went down the list. “You know where Chris’s bottles are?”

“Yes, dear,”

“And he’s already eaten, but you know where his little snacks are in case he gets hungry again?”

“Yes, dear,”

“And you know where the butt cream is in case he gets a rash?”

“Yes, dear,”
“And-?”

“Roxanne,” Dr. Cole cut his wife off without raising his tone or altering his typical blase demeanor, “I’m a doctor for God’s sake. I think I can take care of a baby for one night.”

“You’re right,” Roxanne sighed. “Sorry, Christopher. You know how I get.” She favored her husband with a kiss. He smiled, slightly looking into her eyes before giving her the briefest of hugs. 

“Get going,” Dr. Cole told her as he glanced at the old grandfather clock by the front door. “You and the girls don’t want to be late.” As if on cue, Bri...or was it Sammy?...probably Bri honked the horn in Roxanne’s “Mom Mobile” to get her to hurry out the door and drive them to the movie theater. 

Chris witnessed this entire exchange from his spot on the floor. Clad now, in a fire engine red onesie that must have had something clever on it - because everyone who looked at it smiled and giggled the first time- Chris looked up at his father and step-mother with a twinge of apprehension wriggling around in the back of his mind.

It was his third consecutive day as an adult baby in this reality, and if he understood the pattern like he thought he did, that meant he would switch over to his normal, fetish-less, adult life at the stroke of midnight. That wouldn’t be so bad in Chris’s mind if he hadn’t been so afraid that this might be his last time in diapers.

Eventually, this would all end, the girl in his dreams - some bizarre messenger courtesy of the wizard- told him. Sooner or later the switch would stop and he’d have to make a choice: Which part of himself would he embrace forever? The adult? The baby? Which? Would he be asked to make the choice when he was an adult? Would he get another turn as a baby after this one in a few days? He felt like an addict being told he’d have to either go cold turkey some day or O.D. AND he wouldn’t be able to know when he’d make that choice.

That was the seemingly distant problem on the horizon. The problem right in front of him had just kissed Roxanne goodbye for the night. Roxanne and the girls had wanted to go see a movie, “Hearts in Texas” or “My Best Friend’s BFF”, Chris thought he had heard. Definitely some girly girl chick flick. 

One of several advantages of everyone seeing you as younger than you actually are is that no one particularly wants to take the baby to an annoying girly movie. But rather than spring for a babysitter and give Chris the night alone with Sherry, Dr. Cole- dad to some- had volunteered to watch Chris if that meant not having to be dragged to a movie he didn’t particularly want to see.

This mean that Chris was going to be babysat by his dad. He was going to be alone...in diapers...with his father. No part of this appealed to his rational adult mind. He shuddered thinking about what Dr. Cole would be like as the sole caregiver; mostly because he wasn’t able to disentangle his Dad in this reality from how he behaved when Chris was an adult. 

Sherry was sweet, supportive, sensitive, and prone to friendly teasing no matter how old Chris was.

Roxanne had always had a quiet nurturing nature that could be flipped into a stern “don’t-fuck-with-me” vibe depending on whether the situation merited it.

Bri was a bit of a brat and prone to silliness. Sammy tried to be quieter and was a people pleaser.

Dr. Cole was: Polite? Withdrawn? Amiable as long as you were discussing sports or work? Really, how well did Chris know his father outside of seeking his approval or fearing his quiet wrath? Really, he didn’t match at all the stories of the rambunctious, enthusiastic, and empathetic young man that Grandma Cole had told him about in those old stories. 

How had dad gone from that to...well, that? What caused him to become so withdrawn, and more importantly, was there any of the old Christopher Cole III left inside Dr. Cole?

Now Chris had the opportunity to find out.

Sitting on his padded rear, Chris patiently waited for his father to turn around after all but pushing Roxanne out the door to go the movies. When Dr. Cole turned around, his cool eyes scanning the room and settling on his son, Chris lifted his arms into the air, in the universal baby sign for “up!”.

“Hey Dad,” Chris called up from his spot on the floor. “Dad, give me a lift!” “Let’s play or something!” His dad regarded him, all but expressionless. His eyes swayed to the side as if pondering deep in thought or looking for an out. 

“Oh come on!” Chris tried to playfully tease his father. “I know you don’t hear what I’m saying as English, but everybody so far has been able to get the gist of what I want!” 

Dr. Cole reached down by his foot and picked up a rattle that was laying by his foot, “Is this what you want, champ?” he asked while shoving the plastic toy into Chris’s palm. Almost involuntarily, as if by habit or politeness, Chris’s fist closed over the rattle’s wand.

Dr. Cole stood back up to his full height and looked down at Chris. “Well?” he gestured to the rattle, expectantly. Chris eyed the rattle, and then looked back up to his father, who was clearly already losing interest from the way he kept staring at the clock. Chris’s teasing smile, beckoning for his father to play with him and pick him up, felt a little too heavy all of a sudden. 

Exhaling through his nostrils while his teeth hid behind his sealed, straight lined lips, Chris lamely shook the rattle for his father. Dr. Cole whipped his head to the sound of the beads smacking up against the hard plastic dome, seemingly shaken from a dream, and gave Chris the thinnest of smiles. “Atta boy,” he half-heartedly praised Chris. “Have fun with that for Daddy.”

His smile didn’t last even half a minute before he was glancing at the clock, and the door. Feeling slightly bolder than he otherwise might have, Chris dropped the rattle and crawled over to his father.

“Dad,” Chris nagged, tugging on Dr. Cole’s pant leg. “Come on. Pick me up. Play with me! I’ve got an hour tops before my bedtime and when I wake up, you’ll be…” Chris paused for a second as his mouth almost finished the thought before his brain did. “You’ll be...ashamed of me again.” Chis felt a little misty eyed at that thought. 

“Huh?” Chris’s father looked down at him. “Oh. Go play buddy,” he gave him a brief swat on the but to shoo him along, “Daddy’s busy.” 

“You’re looking at a door,” Chris objected. “And go play? I’m a baby, not five, dad. You gotta watch me or I’ll...I’ll...hnnng!” Chris broke the thought off and started grunting while he pushed. He had spent 6 days in diapers without potty training or any expectations thereof; the last three of them had been consecutive. Chris didn’t even think about messing himself, he just stopped what he was doing and did it.

The immediate pressure release was damn near sublime as the seat of his onesie expanded. His diaper crinkled as the mess settled in behind him. Even the smell wasn’t that objectionable. But then again, everyone liked their own brand. 

“Oh shit…” Dr. Cole cursed looking down at his infantilized son. “Not now.” His nose wrinkled in disgust. His lip curled up in contempt. He all but sneered at Chris. “Great.” Dr. Cole groaned. “Juuuuust great.”

Chris found himself being lifted up off the ground, but instead of by the waist and having his weight supported, Chris was being dangled off the ground by his armpits held out literally as far as his father’s arms would stretch. What was even more ridiculous was that he and his father were roughly the same height and Chris’s feet were really only a quarter inch off the floor

“What’s the big deal?” Chris asked, slightly indignant at the way he was being manhandled “It’s not like I’m not a baby to you right now. You used to take care of…” and Chris let the thought trail off. Had he ever seen him interact with Sammy or Bri when they were infants and toddlers? Had he ever witnessed his father change a diaper? 

A light tapping at the door left that question unanswered.

“Thank God,” Dr. Cole sighed with relief, putting Chris back down on his bum, causing the mess to squish around in the back of his diaper. 

“Pizza?” Chris complained. “You’re letting me sit in this for pizza?” Heedless to his babified sons wants or needs, Dr. Cole practically sprinted the ten feet to the door and opened it quickly.

A woman slipped in before Chris’s father whispered the door shut and locked it before the woman threw her arms around him. They kissed passionately, moaning while they ran their hands down each other’s backs. 

“I’ve missed you,” Dr. Cole purred to this strange woman; this intruder into their home.

“Dad?!” Chris spoke up. “Who the fuck is that?!”

“I’ve missed you too,” the woman purred back, oblivious to or ignoring Chris’s presence right then. Chris’s ears burned. That voice! He knew that voice!

“What kept you?” Dr. Cole wrapped his arm around the newcomers waist. “I was starting to get antsy.”

“Sorry,” Chris heard her, “I saw Roxanne coming around the block, so I had to reverse and take the long way around your neighborhood. They didn’t see me though.” she added.

“Good.” Dr. Cole nodded approvingly, before breathing her in. “Mmmm…” he moaned, “you’re even wearing her same perfume. Good. Now I don’t have to throw anything in the wash right away,” he concluded before letting her go and walk deeper into their home. Chris finally got a look at the interloper’s face. He recognized the short cut brown hair was almost the opposite of Roxanne’s pale locks. Her matching brown eyes distinct from Roxanne’s crystal blue. 

“Barbara?” Chris eeeped out. “Barbara?!” It was Roxanne’s friend. The one whom Chris had first encountered in the library. The one whom had that hyperactive little brat, Angela. She was Roxanne’s friend...and Dad’s mistress?

Barbara walked over and bent over. “Why hello there, Chris!” she cooed. “How are you tonight?”

“Seriously?!” Chris called out to his father. “Dad? Seriously! You’re cheating on Roxanne? You’re cheating on Mooo...on the mother of two of your kids?” Dr. Cole seemed to be more interested in staring at Barbar’s bent over ass. Chris felt his blood begin to boil. His hands clenched into tight, white-nuckled fists. The entirety of his skin started to turn pink as Chris started to pant and unconsciously growl in agitation.

How dare he?! How dare this mother fucker?! Not only was he cheating, but he was using a babysitting gig to make it all go down! What kind of fucking brass did his dad have? What gave him the right? 

“Uh oh,” Barbara cooed. “I think he’s a little fussy.” Then she sniffed the air. “And I think I know why.” She turned her head back towards Doctor Cole, “I think he pooped.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Cole shrugged apathetically. “I really don’t do diapers. Do you mind?”

“Oh you are such a man,” Barbara rolled her eyes.

“That’s what you like about me though,” Dr. Cole smirked, winking at her. “It’s about his bedtime, why don’t you put him to bed. You smell like Roxanne, so maybe he’ll go to sleep for you.”

“Alright,” Barbara agreed, hastily lifting Chris up onto her hip. “I’ll put him to bed, before I take you to bed,” she flirted. “Say goodnight to daddy,” she leaned Chris into arms reach of his own father.

Still growling, practically foaming at the mouth, Chris swung at his old man. He connected right on the chest, and with savage blows. For a good five seconds he thrashed and hit Dr. Cole dead scenter, enough to cave in his sternum. He yelled and frothed, and screamed in pure rage at what he had just scene and was being subjected to.

All of this sound and fury did nothing, though. Chris had the strength of an infant comparatively, and his dad didn’t even flinch. “Just get him to bed,” Dad ordered before walking away into the living room to turn on the T.V. “I’ll be watching something to get in the mood for when you two are done.” 

Wordlessly, with Christ still impotently struggling in her arms, Barbara, Roxanne’s so called “best friend” went to the kitchen to get a bottle, and then toted the man-baby into his nursery. 

Chris raged and wriggled all through the proceeding diaper change. Chris was in a clean diaper, but he felt dirty just being touched by this woman right now. Each wipe across his backside only caused him to burn more. He felt like he was being violated...like some essential part of his innocence was finally being shed and tossed aside like so much garbage. Into the diaper pail the last naive imagery of his father went with the rest of the shit.

Then came the bottle. The milk poured down his throat, and Barbara rubbed his tummy as he couldn’t help but suckle. It was swallow or choke, while she laid him down in his crib and hurriedly force fed Chris so that she could go fuck his dad while his surrogate mother and sisters watched a movie. Maybe it was the milk acting as nature’s NyQuil, maybe it was that sleep was Chris’s only sure fire escape from this nightmare, but soon enough after Barbara left the nursery with the lights off, sleep claimed him.

Chris woke up the next morning, in his adult bed, in his upstairs bedroom, his pillow soaked with tears, but his bed otherwise dry. Thankfully, he was right about the pattern. He was an adult now, and would remain so for the next four days. This was good. He didn’t want to have to look either of his parents in the eye after what he had just witnessed. 

Chris felt something behind his ear. He reached behind it and felt a little piece of cardstock between his fingers. He held it in front of him. It was a business card. On the front it read:

“Professor Bumble’s (Very Humble) Antique Mall and Magic Emporium”. 

On the back it read: “You’re ready now. Come see me. -Prof. B.”

(Note: This is just a backup.  This is in no way a continuation or update of the story)

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43 minutes ago, Personalias said:

A woman slipped in before Chris’s father whispered the door shut and locked it before the woman threw her arms around him. They kissed passionately, moaning while they ran their hands down each other’s backs. 

“I’ve missed you,” Dr. Cole purred to this strange woman; this intruder into their home.

“Dad?!” Chris spoke up. “Who the fuck is that?!”

“I’ve missed you too,” the woman purred back, oblivious to or ignoring Chris’s presence right then. Chris’s ears burned. That voice! He knew that voice!

“What kept you?” Dr. Cole wrapped his arm around the newcomers waist. “I was starting to get antsy.”

giphy.gif

43 minutes ago, Personalias said:

Wordlessly, with Christ still impotently struggling in her arms, Barbara, Roxanne’s so called “best friend” went to the kitchen to get a bottle, and then toted the man-baby into his nursery. 

Chris raged and wriggled all through the proceeding diaper change. Chris was in a clean diaper, but he felt dirty just being touched by this woman right now. Each wipe across his backside only caused him to burn more. He felt like he was being violated...like some essential part of his innocence was finally being shed and tossed aside like so much garbage. Into the diaper pail the last naive imagery of his father went with the rest of the shit.

Jesus I just want to hug this poor guy.....

 

Can't wait to see what happens with the Wizard....

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1 hour ago, YourFNF said:

 

 Can't wait to see what happens with the Wizard....

1.  He's a Magician, not a Wizard.

2. I appreciate your interest, but I cannot and will not guarantee when the next installment will be.  All I will say is that when I do finish it, I will re-edit the entire piece (searching for typos or just phrasings that no longer look right to me) and re-post the entire story 1 chapter at a time.  But I will not post any new chapters until the entire story is written and complete.

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1 hour ago, Personalias said:

1.  He's a Magician, not a Wizard.

2. I appreciate your interest, but I cannot and will not guarantee when the next installment will be.  All I will say is that when I do finish it, I will re-edit the entire piece (searching for typos or just phrasings that no longer look right to me) and re-post the entire story 1 chapter at a time.  But I will not post any new chapters until the entire story is written and complete.

No worries

I know what it's like trying to finish a piece.... ?

Shit most of my stuff is dead or on life support

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I was very pleased to see something new with this story. It actually took me a minute to remember what was going on. Now I really am looking forward to reading more. 

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  • 2 years later...

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