The Struggle

[JustinDB87]

Very excited to see you back again. Excellent update!

[Personalias]

45 minutes ago, Dips&Dots said:

R we gonna see you back on CushyPen anytime soon? Was really enjoying The Program

Hopefully soon.  

[Sarah Penguin]

[Personalias]

Business as Unusual.

 

Jack laid quietly on the changing table in Jamie’s office as Nanny finished fastening the snaps of the onesie over his fresh diaper.  It hadn’t even been two whole days and the embarrassment and frustration from having zero control over the state of his pants had already been severely diminished.  That had been partly due to Jamie’s absence for nearly twenty-four hours.

As soon as Jack had finished explaining his plan to her, Jamie’s eyes widened as his plan wormed its way through her brain.  The smile that spread on her face vaguely reminded Jack of when the Grinch first decided to steal Christmas.  “Nanny,” she’d said to her robot, “initiate total care mode.  Level: Toddler,” before speed walking out of the kitchen and through a doorway that she hadn’t deemed necessary for Jack to see the inside of yet.  It could have been her bedroom.  It could have been some laboratory; maybe both.  Jack didn’t know how billionaire scientists with babying fetishes designed their floor plans.  “Oh, and get him some role-appropriate clothes for the time being,” she’d said before closing the door behind her.  “Use one of the offshore accounts.  Speedy delivery.”

“YeS, MiSs VaSqUeZ,” Nanny responded.  “ToTaL cArE mOdE aCtIvAtEd.  LeVeL: ToDdLeR.”

Within the hour, Infinitech’s product tester was having a romper- complete with snaps running up the legs for easy changing access- slipped onto him.  “This isn’t so bad,” he’d muttered to himself.  “Men’s rompers are a thing now, anyways.”  Not bad.  Not bad at all. Better than being all-but-buck-naked.

Surprisingly, it had remained that way.  For the better part of twenty-four hours Jack had been alone, with only the automated Nanny to keep him company.  With no Jamie to pressure him or say the command phrases that would completely hijack his autonomy, Jack had been left by his lonesome, free to do as he pleased. He played with the toys, he watched television, and in general lazed around the apartment suite that was bigger than the house he grew up in.
Granted, the only shows that the doting automaton allowed him to watch were the ones targeted at the three-and-under crowd, but it was a decent way to pass the time.  At least there was plot and resolution to the stories. How would Curious George get out of this one? The toys were also admittedly limited in their entertainment value.  There’s only so many times one can make the clown pop out of the box before monotony sets in; only so many different permutations to the colors and order of the stacking rings; only so many times a See-N-Say toy can tell someone “the cow goes moo” before it becomes tiresome.  However, in trying to find all the variations and exploring the extent and scope of each baby toy, Jack managed to distract himself from the absurd reality of his plight.  The high chair and bottle feedings were inconvenient and (like everything else) functionally unnecessary, but painless.  The food still tasted good enough that Jack didn’t bother to tell Nanny that he didn’t need to be burped and that burping was developmentally inappropriate for a “toddler” level of care.

Obviously, he still had to wear diapers the entire day and use them for their intended purpose- not that his body or brain was giving him much of a choice.  Every time he even passively wondered if he had to relieve himself, he did so without control.  After the initial wetting of any given Pampers, though, it became increasingly difficult to tell if or when he was wetting himself again. He’d feel a slight ache in his bladder and as soon as he recognized it for what it was, the ache would go away as his diaper started to swell and squish a little more than before.  Were Jack an actual toddler, this might be something that could inhibit future potty training.  Potty training wasn’t in his future, though, he knew.

Maybe “free” wasn’t quite the correct word for it, come to think of it.  Even “free time”, as it stood, had been a release from what his captor had made him endure his first night.  Upon reflection, Jamie had been treating him less a baby and more like a baby doll.  Eat now. Sleep now. Pee now. Play now.  Real parents didn’t have that luxury with their children. How sad was it that a machine was being infinitely more of a mother to him than the flesh and blood human insisting he call her “Mommy”?

There was hope yet.  Vasquez was nothing if not ambitious.  As soon as Jack had pitched her his common sense but cutthroat plan, Jamie had seized upon it, and rewarded Jack for his troubles- never mind that the reward was baby clothes.  She might lack a degree of common sense-  when you were as brilliant and rich as Jamie Vasquez was, common sense was optional- but she knew a good idea when she heard one and could be negotiated with.  Reason wouldn’t work on her, but she could still, indeed, be negotiated with.

That was how Jack had spent his second full day as Jamie’s thrall.  On the third, shortly after a breakfast of applesauce and oatmeal had been fed to him, a tired but satisfied Jamie emerged from her bedroom, folder in hand and dressed in her typical professional attire.  “Nanny,” she proclaimed triumphantly, “get the baby.  Baby?” she looked down at Jack. Jack looked up from his spot on the carpet. “Time to watch Mommy work.”

The journey back to work had been much the same as the transition the other night; with Jack being unnecessarily toted around by the android, while a possibly unmanned limo pulled up fast enough for Jamie not to break her stride.  Just like before, no one seemed to give Jamie Vasquez, or her android, a second glance.  The security guard, on the other hand, gave the toddlerized man the queerest look:  He hadn’t blinked when Jack had been toted in wearing nothing but a novelty sized Pampers, but now that said diaper was covered up by an equally oversized onesie, his state of dress was apparently something to take note of.
The young man thanked whatever deities there were above when the limousine pulled up to the back of Infinitech headquarters.  Jamie preferred her own private entrance into her company, rather than walk through main lobby with the rank and file.  As a result, Jack was spared the embarrassment of being carted around in front of his friends and former co-workers.  Whether it was some small form of compassion or if the opportunity for Jack’s continued humiliation simply hadn’t occurred to Jack’s “Mommy”, Jack himself wasn’t about to bring it up.

At present, Jack was being helped off the changing table- his Cars onesie holding the new diaper up against him- while Jamie was entering inscrutable calculation after inscrutable calculation on her little computer.  At least, that’s what Jack figured she was doing,  Always looking for that big score, it seemed.  Always hoping for the big jackpot.  Still an addict.

Based on her expression, Jack reasoned that while Jamie wasn’t “winning big” with whatever she was doing, she seemed to be getting results that were encouraging to her.

“Miss Vasquez,” a secretary buzzed. “General Smothers is here for your meeting.”

There was a slight pause on Jamie’s part before she continued poking at the compact computer in her palm.  “He’s here two hours earlier than I asked him to come,” she noted.  Her tone wasn’t particularly surprised or irritated.  It was the same tone that someone might take when describing a slight change in the weather.

“Shall I have him wait?” the voice on the other end of the speaker phone asked.

A few more calculations, followed by a pleasant pinging noise and Jamie nodded with satisfaction.  “Not at all.  I expected this, actually.  Send him and his retinue up.”

“How did…?” the woman on the other end began to ask before Jamie’s well-manicured hand reached over and hung up the connection.  A curious glance from Jack finished the question all the same.

Infinitech’s founder simply gave Jack a thin and condescending smile.  “He came early because he’s impatient but wants to look busy.  He came with people because he needs to look important.  Basic psychology.”  There was something else that she hadn’t told him, Jack knew; he just couldn’t figure out what.

The doors to Jamie’s office flung open and what Jack could only assume was General Smothers:  Square haircut.  Uniform. A stare that would have likely made Jack want to wet himself even if he hadn’t been diapered.  Yeah…this guy was “the General”, for sure.

Flanking him on either side, were a middle aged and balding man in a white lab coat, and a young woman- a few years older than Jack, if that- in slacks and a blouse.   “Miss Vasquez,” the General practically growled, “I hope you’ve got something worth my time with your sudden and unexpected invitation.”  He turned his head sideways and looked past his flunkey in the lab coat, staring directly at Jack sitting on the carpet a few yards away.  “Why is that man dressed like a goddamn toddler?”  The man baby shrank down under the General’s gaze, ears burning hot.  Reflexively, Jack drew his knees up to his chest and cradled himself.

“Oh, Jack?” Jamie tittered.  “I bring him to work with me.  It’s so hard to find a daycare that accepts twenty-eight-year-olds.”  Jack’s vision was suddenly blocked by his own hands as he buried his face to cover his embarrassment.

“I didn’t come here to see what you do behind closed doors-,” Smothers began to bark.

Jamie cut him off.  “No. You didn’t.”  The two of them stared each other down, neither one willing to blink.  “I’ll remind you that it’s your job to ensure I have the freedom to do what I want behind closed doors.”

Freedom?  The adult baby bit his tongue and suppressed bitter laughter from within.  Hearing Jamie talk about freedom was delicious irony, all things being equal. Jack was smart enough to not speak up.  His ability to tattle on his “Mommy” had already been impaired if not completely disabled by the Dominance nanites that had infested his brain, so there wasn’t much point in trying.  Anyways, if his lot here was going to improve, he’d need Jamie to win this one.  Hope this deal goes down as planned, first, then negotiate greater freedom.  Baby steps.  Baby steps.

It was the General who finally blinked.  “What have you got for me?”

Papers from inside the manila folder Jamie had brought from her apartment made their way into the General’s hands.  “Complete and total dominance over any foreign military power, assuming the CIA can live up to its reputation for stealth.”  Without looking back, Jamie tossed the folder, still thick with papers back onto her desk.

Not breaking eye contact with the young billionaire, General Smothers handed the papers off to the balding scarecrow in the lab coat.  “I thought Infinitech wasn’t making or selling weapons,” he said.  “The Pentagon is paying you a lot of money not to.”

“I’m not,” Jamie replied smugly.  “I’m making and selling blueprints to weapons.  There’s a fine but legally distinct difference.”  She then looked over to the scientist in the white coat.  “Tommy?  Really?  How did you manage to convince anyone you were competent?  Don’t think that lab coat is fooling anyone. I’m pretty sure my baby boy over there could outsmart you, and he’s not even potty trained.”

If she was attempting to make Jack’s skin turn red enough to match Lightning McQueen, she was successful.  “Now, Miranda here,” Jamie regarded the other young woman, “she’s good; knows her stuff.  Miranda, feel free to take a look at those once Tommy is done pretending.”

The majority of his vision still obstructed by his fingers, Jack felt Jamie walk up to him and circle around behind.  Her body heat radiated against him as she sat down and wrapped her legs around his compacted frame.  Despite himself, he relaxed a little in her grip as she wrapped her arms around his chest, feeling her breasts press gently against his back.  A single, slender arm snaked down and gave his crotch a squeeze, causing him to shake a bit as his member reflexively hardened at her touch.  “Just checking,” she whispered, before moving her hand upward and lightly petting his raven hair.

“Oh my God!” the other scientist, Miranda, shrieked once a puzzled looking Tommy handed the papers over.  “Are you serious, Miss Vasquez?!”

“What is it?” the general leaned over her shoulder.  Meanwhile, Jamie continued to run her fingers through her “widdle baby’s” hair.

“Nanites, General,” the mad scientist said.  “Program them, get them into someone’s system and you can basically reprogram someone’s brain.”  Jack blanched.  If she was the mad scientist, then what was he; the cat?  Perhaps guinea pig was more accurate.

The older man in the military uniform blustered, “That’s impossible.”

“Not according to these,” the competent scientist remarked, showing the general the blue prints.

“Uh…yeah…” Tommy in the lab coat pretended to agree.  Smothers shot him a look that could have killed and the hack shrank back. Even Jack felt embarrassed for the man, and he wasn’t allowed to wipe his own ass anymore.

Jack felt his “Mommy” recede from him as she stood up.  “Admittedly, it’s still very much in the hypothetical realm,” she lied, “but the science is sound, I’m sure you’ll agree.  Miranda will, anyways.”

“English, please…?” General Smothers asked, rubbing his temples.

There was a long silence in the room, almost palpable.  Saliva coated Jack’s thumb as he unconsciously popped it into his mouth to relieve the tension.  He was so glad he didn’t have to pee.  Wait…did he have to pee?  Maybe a little…? The slight and sudden warmth in the front of his diaper assured Jack that no, he didn’t need to relieve himself…not anymore.

“Ever seen the Manchurian Candidate?” Jamie answered as she sauntered back up beside the grizzled old man.  “Get these into a foreign diplomat’s body, and they become your diplomat. I mean, yeah, the technology itself is a long way away from being developed; ten years, give or take.”

“More like thirty at the very soonest,” Miranda interjected.  “Fifty would be a safer bet.”

For the first time since her guests walked in, Jack saw Jamie look taken aback and caught off guard.  “Really?!”  The three visitors all shot the billionaire a suspicious glare.  Jack’s rhythmic sucking on his thumb increased.  If this plan was going to work, Jack knew, the general and his lackeys had to be the right mixture of greedy and afraid; and they absolutely could not know that Jamie had already created the Dominance nanites.  People looked at you differently depending on if you told them you had the plans for a weapon versus if you said you actually possessed said weapon.

Despite whatever degree of suspicion she had just caused, Jamie recovered quickly.  “That’s what you get for having to rely on sub-committees to get your research funded and you have taxes instead of investors.  Infinitech could get that prototype within a decade…if we weren’t already under contract not to weaponize my inventions due to some misguided fear of them actually being used.”

Satisfied with Jamie’s reply, the three visitors huddled together and looked over the blueprints that she had just handed them, as if they could plumb deeper and darker secrets from Vasquez’s hand-me-downs.  Meanwhile, Jamie made a show of deliberately thumbing through the rest of the manila folder on her desk.

Right on cue, the phone rang and went to speaker.  “Miss Vasquez, Mister Hu is here for his appointment; right on time.”

“He’s actually a doctor,” Jamie said dryly.

“Hu?” General Smothers looked up from the blue prints.  “The Chinese technology mogul?”

“The same,” Jamie answered.  “I’m very busy today.  Probably a good thing you showed up early.  Or I may have had to cancel.” she added.

The secretary’s voice buzzed over the speaker.  “Should I send Doctor Hu up?”

“In a moment,” Jamie instructed.

“Ma’am,” came a distressed and nervous sounding reply from the speaker, “his interpreter is insisting that Mister…I mean Doctor Hu was scheduled to see you first.”

“I know Hu was on first,” Jamie spoke, “but General Smothers is here now.”  Again, Jamie made a show of turning her attention to the folder on her desk.  Jamie disconnected the speaker.

Finally, the general took the hint.  “Miss Vasquez,” he asked, “what else is in that portfolio of yours?  More blue prints for weapons?”

“No, General,” she smirked.  “Just two more copies of the same blueprints.” She paused a beat.  “One copy in Chinese, and one in Russian.”  The look in her eyes was absolutely terrifying.  With slow, deliberate steps, like a man walking to his own execution, General Smothers walked over to Jamie and picked up the folder, stuffing the English blueprints in with the other two.

“Name your price…”

***********************************************************************************

Rewards

    The second cork popped into the air.  Jack watched as Jamie refilled her glass for what was at least the tenth time this evening.  Jack hadn’t thought to keep track, and Jamie had lost count in her haze.  The sun was only just beginning to set.  The final negotiations had been intense, but the deal had been struck and signed about an hour or so ago, and Jamie hadn’t stopped drinking since.

Jack, meanwhile, contented himself to being left alone playing with a wooden train set that Nanny had assembled to keep him occupied while the “grown-ups” had been talking.  Strangely enough, however, the android seemed to be paying closer attention to its creator than its charge.

“WaRnInG,” Nanny droned.  “BrEaThAlYzEr ScAnS iNdIcAtE bLoOd AlCoHoL cOnCeNtRaTiOn WeLl AbOvE lEgAl LiMiT.”

Lips stained red by wine instead of lipstick smiled dopily.  “Never mind that, Nanny.  I’m an adult.”

“CoNtRaDiCtIoN!” the android beeped.  “AcCoRdInG tO iNfAnT cArE jUsTiFiCaTiOn fIlEs JaYdEn, JaMeS, aNd JoSe-“

Jamie waved her machine servant off.  “Not important,” she interrupted.  “I’m none of those babies.  They were all alcoholics.  I’m just having a little fun after making the most money that I’ve ever made in a single transaction!” She bobbed and weaved over to Jack, still playing with his trains but very much paying attention.  “So let me have my fun, Nanny.  Then we’ll drive home.”

“AcCoRdInG tO tHe SuRgEoN gEnErAl CoNsUmPtIoN oF aLcOhOliC bEvErAgEs ImPaIrS yOuR aBiLiTy To DrIvE a-“

Again, the young genius’s hand waved off the robots pre-programmed protestations. “I don’t drive, remember?  I don’t even have a driver’s license.”  She sighed as if she were explaining this to a particularly senile person.  “I just ride in the back of the car with you and the baby.  What has gotten into you, lately?  Do you need a tune up or something?”

“FoLlOwInG pRoToCoLs To MeTe OuT yOuR bEsT iNtErEsTs, MiSs VaSqUez.”

“Well I think I know my best interests right now,” Jamie replied curtly.  “Just stand by and stop me if I’m about to do something stupid.”

There was another clicking coming from the humanoid machine; a processor running through new information. “YeS, JaMiE.”  Jack looked up from the trains.  Jamie?  He had barely been re-babied for seventy-two hours, but it struck him as odd that Nanny referred to Jamie by her first name.  It has always been “Miss Vasquez” when Jamie gave the droid a command.

“Machine thinks it knows my interests…” Jack’s captor mumbled to herself.  Then she looked down at Jack, a drunken giggle rising up out of her.  “Speaking of interest…” she sat down on the floor and tickled Jack under the chin.  “You are much more interesting than I initially gave you credit for, baby boy.”

Jack felt a shudder pass through him.  He did not like the look on the blonde woman’s face.  Correction: The rational part of his brain did not like that look.  On any other woman, the look on her face would be a sign for good things to come.  Girl looking like that, in a bar, with him in a t-shirt and jeans?  He was getting laid.  Jamie, in her private office, with him in a diaper and onesie?  He might just get fucked over.  “Thank you?” he said, not sure of what else he could say.

His timid response was met with a pleased nod, and his chin found its way into her open hand “I’ve gone through I don’t even know how many babies; shown them my secrets…mostly just because I needed someone to talk to…” she sighed wistfully, “…and yet you’re the first to actually give me a fresh idea on what to do with them.”  She leaned in a little bit closer, pressing her forehead to his, batting her eyelashes at him.   Now she was flirthing?

“I mean…” Jack whispered.  “you did the hard work of making it and convincing those guys.”

Jamie drew back a bit, not seeming repulsed, but just more caught up in herself than him. “This is true.”  The slightest bit of anxiety crept into Jack, and he heard the slight crinkle in his diaper as he shifted nervously.  He needed to do a balancing act right now.  He couldn’t afford to come off as pushy, but he didn’t want to be so humble as to seem useless.

“But,” the adult baby offered, “you chose me to do a job. I’m gonna do it.”

His “Mommy” snorted so hard that she had to put down her wine glass.  “Awwwww so cute!” she gushed. It was by far the most affectionate and most genuine response that Jamie had given him since this whole mess had started. “You still wanna play product tester.  Baby needs to learn the definition of the word ‘pretense’.”

“It’s in my contract, isn’t it?” Jack countered.  “Product tester?”  Afraid that he might have stepped too far, the diapered man averted his gaze and began idly pushing a toy train, the cars connected by tiny magnets along the wooden track.

Jamie picked up her glass to take a sip before setting it back down on the floor. “Clever boy,” she said. It meant more to him than it probably should have that she hadn’t wedged ‘baby’ between those two words. He smiled a bit, despite himself.  “It’s true,” Jamie continued.  “none of my other babies would have thought through that loophole in their programming.”  As if he were a cat, she started stroking his hair again.  “Stuffing a tiny Pampers down your pants to make the nanites think you were wearing your diaper. Very clever. Now how shall we reward that?”

Maybe it was the Dominance nanites in his brain, or maybe he was still thinking more with his dick than with his brain, but a part of Jack luxuriated at her caress, urging him to lean in, hoping that she would cuddle with him there on the floor.  Not yet.  Eyes on the prize.  Shift the dynamic.

“What would a game of product tester look like?” Jamie asked; the cat lazily smiling at the mouse.

The smallest bit of perspiration formed on Jack’s face.  Better not screw this up. “I always liked playing dress up,” he offered.

“Oh?” Jamie seemed amused.  “Is that why you asked for the clothes?  So you can play dress up?” Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!  If this psycho got a chance to justify it, she’d take away what small modesty left him and save it only for “playing”.  Onesies and rompers were still better than being in just adult sized Pampers.

His heart fluttering from panic, Jack backpedaled almost instantly.  “No!” he yelped. “These are my clothes!  This is me! Babies wear this stuff, and I’m…I’m…I’m…!”

His captor scooted back a bit so she could sit cross legged.  She propped herself up with her hands a bit as she tipsily swayed from side to side.  “Yeeeeessss?” she teased.

“I’m…I’m a baby,” Jack spat the words out.

“What was that?”  Damnit, she was enjoying this.

“I’m your baby,” Jack took a deep breath, “Mommy.”

A quick and sloppy kiss on his left cheek was Jack’s reward.  “Good baby,” Jamie praised him.  Jamie seemed to consider something for a moment. “Well then,” she asked, “what would dressing up and playing ‘product tester’ look like?”

An opportunity!  “Maybe I could get a uniform or something?” Jack suggested.  “T-shirt and shorts that say ‘product tester’ or something.”  Jack saw his “Mommy’s” non-plussed expression before he had even finished his sentence.  “And it could be one of those shirts that buttons a bit in the back…or maybe it could say ‘lab monkey’ and have little cartoon monkeys on it?”  Jamie’s lids were half-closed.  She wasn’t buying it.  

“Maybe I could-“

“Clever and devious,” Jamie interrupted. Condescendingly, she tousled his hair. “ No, I don’t think you’ll be wearing pants anytime soon, baby boy.”  Jack’s shoulder’s slumped.  “The dear general pegged you as being right about where I want you.”

Dressed like a toddler.

“Wouldn’t want anyone thinking that you’re in pre-school, or ready for training pants,” Jamie rubbed in.  “Still,” she admitted, “I couldn’t have done this without you. An artist is nothing without their muse.  I think baby deserves a reward.  Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby cu-“
No! Not again!  Not like a baby doll!  “PLEASE!” he screamed. “STOP!”  Strangely enough, she did.  Even stranger, she didn’t seem particularly mad.

“Oh, baby boy,” Jamie let out a disappointed huff.  “I thought you’d accepted; that you were over this whole being embarrassed thing.”

“It’s not embarrassment,” Jack tried to explain, “I want to…y’know…by myself.”  His embarrassment argument was immediately undermined as a healthy glow came to his cheeks.

The brilliant blonde giggled “Baby boy wants to masturbate?” Jamie asked.  “I wouldn’t mind watching that.”  She slightly rubbed and teased her nipples through her blouse.

“Yes…” Jack began, but then caught himself. “I mean no!  I mean I want to.  I want you to reward me without using a trigger phrase.”  Jamie stopped teasing herself. “Please?” his voice suddenly very loud among the quiet of the room.  “Mommy?”

Jack’s neck craned upward as Jamie pulled herself up to a standing position. She bent over and softly grabbed his wrists.    “Come on,” she beckoned softly, sweetly. “Up, up!  I’m not strong like Nanny.  I can’t just bend over and carry you.”  Jack stood up.  “Follow me, little Jack-Jack.”  The “product tester” was being led over to a nearby couch.

“Umm…Jamie?” Jack spoke up.  “I’m wet.”  That was a bit of an understatement.  He hadn’t been changed since just before Jamie’s little presentation for the general.  The diaper was still holding, certainly, but it was hard to get hardwhen you had what was probably a couple liters of urine squishing against you.

For her part, Jamie didn’t break her stride.  “Good,” she said, “that will make this easier.”  She sat down on one end of the couch and patted her lap.  “Lay down.”  Gently, Jack laid down across her lap, his head propped up on a cushioned armrest of the couch, and his face less than a foot away from his “Mommy’s” breasts.  The last time he had been like this, it had been like a punishment, a display of power to reinforce who was the adult and who was the child in this relationship.  Now, here he was again, only this time it was a “reward.”

Reflexively, Jack tensed up tensed up and squeezed the front of his diaper, eliciting a wet squelch from the sodden padding. Quick and nimble fingers unbuttoned the snaps in his Cars onesie and pulled back the flap.  “Cold.” Jamie pronounced. “Oh, this won’t do.  Jack-Jack, baby?  When was the last time you went pee-pee?”

When was the last time he’d gone?  Jack noticed a dull ache in his bladder that he hadn’t…and just as quickly he began to empty it into the already soaking pampers.  “Ewww…” he whined.  “Can you please change me now?  I feel…squishy.”

“Good,” came the reply.  “That’ll make this easy.  Now close your eyes and relax while you listen.”  He cast her a doubtful look, not that he’d have a choice in the matter.  “No trigger phrases.  Mommy promises,” she smiled warmly down on him.

With a final breath, a final surrender-if only for the moment- the adult baby closed his eyes as the gorgeous woman whose lap he was laying in began to rub and knead at his bulging and swollen Pampers.

“Feel how warm it is in your pants?” Jamie gently cooed.  “Feel how wet?  How moist?”

Jack listened to the sound of her voice, just above a whisper.  Feeling the pressure of her hand rubbing against him.  “Uh-huh.”

“Feel how squishy it is?” she squeezed him in just the right place.  On instinct, Jack lifted his hips and grinded against her.  “Now, baby…don’t think of it as a diaper.  Think of it as…me.  You’ve got what you’ve always been after from me in a warm. Wet. Hug.”

Jack let out a low moan as he continued grinding, the diaper becoming tighter around him as blood rushed to his genitalia.  Come to think of it, he admitted to himself, something about the sensation of his wet diaper was very close to a lucky Saturday night.   The smell was admittedly different, but the parallels were otherwise uncanny.  The slight crinkle and rustling of the diaper was muted as he grunted in time with his thrusts against his mistress’s groping palm.  This. Felt. Good.  A series of light, pecking kisses against his forehead made him shudder in delight. “Good baby,” Jamie cooed.  “That’s right.  That’s what’s this is all about.  Just relax, and let your body do what it wants.”

His lips puckered, ever so subtly, as he continued to buck against her palm.  He wanted her lips on his.  Gently, he felt her hands on the back of his head, guiding him upward.  Eyes still closed, the adult baby lifted himself up slightly, and allowed his head to be guided toward what he was sure was the woman’s waiting lips.  Something brushed across his cheek and Jack turned and reached out with his tongue.  Let your body do what it wants.  It wasn’t until the warm creamy liquid was filling his mouth that Jack understood that he was suckling at Jamie’s teat.   “Mmmmph…” he objected, still pulling at her nipple with his lips.

“Don’t fight it, sweetie,” Jamie said sweetly; seductively.  “You’re doing so well.  It’s okay to want this.”  At this latest proclamation, Jack began thrusting harder; faster and more intense; his hips gyrating rapidly and erratically as he started to take long steady pulls from his mistress’s breast, his tongue licking and probing all the while.  A tiny (and growing smaller by the second) part of his mind wondered if this is something he actually wanted to do.  Or was Vasquez lying when she promised no pre-programmed trigger phrases?  Maybe there were some commands programmed into him that he hadn’t learned of yet and he was being manipulated.  Maybe he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to.

Yet even as he pondered this, a large (and ever growing) part of him told his worries to silence themselves.  He could stop if he chose to, he told himself.  He just didn’t want to choose that.  He wanted this.  He could stop.  He just didn’t want to.  He. Wanted. This.

“WaRnInG!”  Nanny’s mechanical voice rang out.  “DrInKiNg WhIlE bReAsTfEeDiNg MaY-“

“Shut up, Nanny!” an exasperated and annoyed Mommy Vasquez called back.

“YeS, JaImE…”  There was a tinge of something in the robot’s response that wasn’t there before.  Disapproval?  No matter.  Nothing mattered.  Only this moment.

“Shhhh,” Jamie hushed as she gently stroked the back of his head, keeping him up against her breasts. “Keep going honey, keep going.”  Jack obeyed. “Nanny’s right about one thing, though,” she continued.  “Mommy’s milk is tinged with the wine she’s been drinking today.”  His body already awash with so much other sensory information and hormones, it was difficult to detect, but Jamie’s milk did have the slightest of sour aftertastes.  “So that’s a little treat for my Jack-Jack.”

He was getting drunk and getting off at the same time.  No condom.  No worry about getting her pregnant.  He wouldn’t even have to worry about the cleanup. If this thing could hold in all his pee, it could take a few squirts of semen.  Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.

Within a few minutes, Jack’s head was buzzing and his cock was screaming out for release.  He had given up all pretense of modesty or self -control.  His Mommy (for that was what Jamie was in this moment) had made him scoot down away from her so that he could switch breasts.  Her hand was too far away from his diaper to beat him off, though. Not much caring by this time, his own body screaming for release, his own hands had to finish what she couldn’t.  He was rubbing himself so hard that the padding was bunching up and away from him.

He mewled and whined, not wanting to stop, but desperately wanting to climax.  That tiny, nagging, rational voice was still whispering to him with each stroke.  This is wrong.  “Having a hard time finishing, baby?” Jamie interrupted his rational mind.  “Let me help.  Just let me say the words.”

Sweating, buzzing, and desperate, Jack unlatched from her breasts and gazed into her eyes, pleading.  Please. He pleaded with his eyes.  Please.

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby makes cummies in his diaper.”   Jack was writhing and shaking as he exploded into his soaking wet Pampers before Jamie had even finished the command phrase.  When the painful, ecstatic throbbing stopped, he shifted and shuffled so that his head was laying in her lap, lying there.

“Thank you, Mommy,” he whispered while she stroked his forehead. His eyes felt heavy and his breathing slowed.  The last thing he heard before drifting off was the electric buzzing of the wall of televisions in front of them coming to life.  The sound of CNN and Fox News blended with Barney and Friends and the grunts and groans of Ron Jeremy.

Miscalculations and Malfunctions

Jamie gave her baby boy a tender kiss as she tucked him into the crib she kept in her office before raising the rail.  Sleepy and drunk from her alcohol laced breast milk, the big toddler had allowed himself to be sleep-walked over to the changing table where Jamie had changed him into a clean overnight diaper.  It wasn’t the easiest thing to do; having to nudge and muscle Jack to lift his hips so she could slide the absolutely destroyed diaper out from under him.

The warmed wipes didn’t cause him to stir as much as it caused his penis to go erect, ready for round two. Nanny didn’t come to help, but Jamie would have waved the droid off anyways.  Even without any source of fresh humiliation, of struggling and embarrassment to work out of her pet, she wanted to do this.  He was too out of it to lift his hips a second time, so Jamie put her arms underneath the back of his knees and managed to muscle him up enough to slide the replacement under him.  She smiled contentedly as she pulled the diaper up over him and taped it closed, giving it- and his still erect penis- a light pat when the job was done.

“Good baby,” she whispered, and was pleased when a lazy smile spread across his lips.

“Nanny, come help me put the baby to bed,” Jamie had ordered.  She didn’t want to risk disturbing her precious bundle any further.  Silently, the robot complied, lifting the diapered man up and gently depositing him in the nearby crib.  He’d come so far in such a short amount of time, yet it had been ages since Jamie had been this excited to have a big baby.  Maybe it was the wine talking, but she might actually start to enjoy this one’s company more than his compliance.

Oh, she was still going to keep him as he was.  She’d baby him.  She’d break him.  She’d rebuild him.  But there was something about this Jack that she was just fascinated with and enjoyed.  It might have been the way he’d stumble over himself when he felt he was losing ground rather than anger and threats like the last few; there was a certain rush that came from seeing fear in a man’s eyes.  It might have been the gall he had to suggest baby clothes and playing dress up; how he was trying to get concessions from her while not outright asking to be set free. He was challenging her without confronting her.

She was still playing the game, but for once someone else was playing with her.  It’s a shame that things were the way they had to be.  It might’ve been nice to get to know Jack as a total person instead of as a tot, Jamie thought.  She felt a wetness in her own panties, though, and thinking of her latest acquisition sleeping peacefully in his crib, all padded up and blissfully unaware was stimulating her more than just emotionally or intellectually.

“Now if you excuse me, Nanny,” Jamie commented, walking over to the couch, “I’ve got some things to work out of my system.”  She’d have to go over some reports and projections when she’d finished herself off, she knew.  An empire does not slow down just because its queen is buzzed and horny.   Speaking of reports and projections, Jamie was suddenly dimly aware that she hadn’t used her little handheld tablet to calculate anything.  Her interactions and play time with Jack had been entirely spontaneous.  There was something comforting about that.

She’d likely be sleeping in her office tonight, but it wouldn’t be the first time.  It would be easier than waking her baby boy, anyway.  Her baby boy.  The thought set her ablaze.

Jamie’s skirt was off and on the floor by the time she stretched out on her office’s couch.  Her hands were in her underwear as she teased and stimulated herself.  Her lips formed a tight crease as her eyes closed and her pulse began racing.  Oh yes. Right there.

Building up steam and approaching the point where she’d have to make a decision regarding drawing the act out or racing to the finish line, Jamie Vasquez was suddenly acutely aware of another set of hands unbuttoning the bottom of her blouse.  “Huh?” Jamie started.  Her eyes opened and she looked at the mannequin face of Nanny leaning over her and removing her clothes.  “Nanny? What are you-?”

“PuTtInG bAbY tO bEd,” the machine cut her sentence off as it ripped her shirt clean off her frame.  Jamie looked to her right and noticed the diaper, baby powder and bottle on the nearby coffee table.  A jolt of panic coursed through her.  This wasn’t happening.

A not-quite human hand shoved Jamie down onto the couch as she stopped masturbating and tried to sit up.  “Nanny stop!  I’m not the ba-“

“ChIlDcAre PaRaMeTeRs AcTiVaTeD aNd WaRrAnTeD.” Jamie’s nursing bra joined her destroyed clothes on the floor.  “LaCk Of SeLf-CoNtRoL. DrInKiNg To ExCeSs.” Strong mechanical figures reached down and ripped the sides of Jamie’s satin panties as if they were a wet Pull-Up.

“Nanny!” the machine’s creator said in a clear and authoritative tone. “Stop! That’s an order!”

The android ignored her.  “LaCk Of InDePeNdEnCe. No DrIvEr’S lIcEnSe.” Jamie tried to roll off the couch and squirm away but Nanny’s grasp was as strong and firm as if Jamie had been an actual child.

“Nanny, this is your last chance!” the genius girl threatened as the robot lifted her legs into the air.  “Override command, Vasquez ten-seventeen-ay-bee!”

“UnSaFe ChIlDcArE. BrEaStFeEdInG bAbY aLcOhOlIc MiLk. OvErRiDe DeNiEd. NoT mAtUrE eNoUgH.”

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

The swats across Jamie’s backside were enough to send her screeching and screaming in agony.  She wanted to cry just then, but her body was in too much shock to make her tear ducts work.  Soon though, the pain would subside enough, and Jamie would cry.  A dark part of her knew that there’d be a lot of crying tonight and in the immediate future.

Jamie hadn’t even finished processing the catastrophe that was befalling her when she felt her reddened rump lowered onto soft padding.  A diaper! Soon to be her diaper! Cooling flakes of talcum powder dusted her backside, causing Jamie to whimper.

Why was this happening?  Why now?!  She’d done everything right up to this point.  Why was she losing?

Far too soon the diaper was pulled tight over her, the padding forcing her legs apart as the tapes were fastened over Elmo’s smiling face along her waist.  The crinkling and rustling of a scaled-up Pampers filling Jamie’s ears wouldn’t just be Jack’s, now.

The android moved its porcelain colored hand back to Jamie’s naked chest, reaching back with the other to grab the bottle.  Jamie knew that it wasn’t just milk in that bottle.  A single drop of milk laced with Dominance had enough nanites to hijack her brain and make her piss herself on command. Miss Vasquez, soon to be baby Jamie, held her breath as the nipple of the bottle inched closer to her lips.  One drop.

That’s all it’d take. She couldn’t stop at least one drop from passing her lips.

 

WHOMP!

The sound of the giant high chair coming down and crashing on Nanny’s head thundered through the room.  The robot didn’t have time to react before Jack, still clad in his onesie and diaper, slammed it down on top of the machine.  This was followed by a low swing at the droid’s all-too-human and therefore unstable legs, toppling it to the floor.

Jamie sat up and scrambled over the back of the couch as her baby boy, her sudden and unexpected savior, continued beating at the robot, his face becoming red with exertion as the heavy chair bent and warped with each swing.  Nanny was strong, but it wasn’t built to take such constant and deliberate abuse.  It didn’t need to, since Jamie could have ended the assault at any moment with a simple command phrase.  Right then, Jamie didn’t want it to end.

The baby man, suddenly seeming so much more man than baby, stood over the malfunctioning automaton and began thrusting downward with the twisted remains of the chair; slowly, awkwardly, and brutally decapitating it.  Nanny malfunctioning AND her prisoner coming to her rescue?  Never in a million years could Jamie have predicted the variable that would have led to this.  She still didn’t know how this happened.

Jamie stood up from behind the couch and Jack turned to face her, twisted metal and plastic still in his hands.  What does one say in this situation?  If only they made greeting cards for this sort of thing.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he replied, panting over the wreckage.

“You saved me.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.”

“You could have run.”

“Yeah.”

“But you didn’t…”

“Guess not…”

“You could have let her finish with me and then I’d be just as screwed as you.”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t seem right.” A pause. “Did the nanites make me?”

Jamie just shook her head.  She hadn’t thought to design them to do that.  Programming such loyalty was beyond even her capabilities.  Without thinking about it, Jamie walked up to her rescuer.  She pressed her palm to his chest and guided him over to the couch.

“Mommy?” Jack asked, letting the bludgeon clatter over the robot’s remains.  Something inside her told Jamie that Jack wasn’t actively trying to call her that.  She wasn’t feeling particularly maternal at the moment; and standing there naked save for a diaper she didn’t look the part either.  But the rush she was feeling was doing something to her.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked as she unsnapped the buttons of his onesie, shimmying it up to his waist and exposing a (miraculously still dry) Pampers Overnight.

“Something stupid,” she admitted.  “But worth it.”

She ripped off his diaper, followed by her own.  Then she climbed atop him, and they did the least infantile thing that either of them could think of.  No command phrase was uttered, or needed.

 

Not the end…

[Jayme]

Wow, interesting situation Jamie has there, she almost wound up screwed. Glad Jack saved her, however what happens next?

[Sarah Penguin]

2 hours ago, Jayme said:

Wow, interesting situation Jamie has there, she almost wound up screwed. Glad Jack saved her, however what happens next?

I'm thinking intercourse. Then they'll try to figure out what went wrong with the nanny bot and discover leaking batteries caused a short

[Personalias]

10 hours ago, Jayme said:

Wow, interesting situation Jamie has there, she almost wound up screwed. Glad Jack saved her, however what happens next?

Tune in next time to find out?

 

7 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

I'm thinking intercourse. Then they'll try to figure out what went wrong with the nanny bot and discover leaking batteries caused a short

I mean, literally, the first part, yeah.  Second part?  May be more complicated than you'd expect?

[JustinDB87]

omg now that’s one heck of an update. Awesome story!!!

[Personalias]

 

1 hour ago, JustinDB87 said:

omg now that’s one heck of an update. Awesome story!!!

Yeah, I won't lie, it'll probably get a little trippy here, coming up.  I got some weird ideas when writing this.

[Personalias]

Talking to Herself

       It had been barely a week since “The Nanny Incident.”   Jamie Vasquez found herself lounging in her bedroom, in that wonderful and lazy state where one is awake and aware but lacking in inclination or motivation to get out of bed.  Truth be told, this was out of character for her.  The Texas King where she laid her head had been a status symbol that she bought to congratulate herself for her success, but it was a place for sleeping; not a place of rest.  The fluffy pillowtop could have been a stone slab for all it mattered.

Most nights she’d lay down, close her eyes, and go to sleep. A scant few hours later the alarm would go off, her eyes would shoot open, dreams -if any- quickly forgotten and then it would right to work.  If she wasn’t managing Infinitech’s latest business dealings, she would be inventing something.

That’s how she had managed stayed on top.  In this life, you were either sprinting full out or you were being left behind in the dust.  Had she let her guard down, even for a second, she knew her life as the brilliant and beautiful billionaire scientist would be over.  So, she never did let her guard down.  That’s why she plotted.  That’s why she planned.  That’s why she was constantly making calculations; if not on her little hand-held device, then in her head.

Yet here she was, lying naked in bed, purring to herself as she took the time to actually enjoy the luxury that she had acquired instead of only having to seem like she was enjoying it.  A slight groan caught her attention and she rolled over in bed.  Beside her was no lover, but a video feed streaming in to Jack’s crib.  Even after she had decided to mount and ride him as if he were a proper grown-up- the alcohol and adrenaline rush from being saved from a fate worse than death making her incredibly aroused- she had never deigned to take him to her bed.

There was a line that could not be crossed, Jamie knew, logically.  Letting her new favorite diaper boy sleep next to her might just cross that line, and then everything would go spiraling out of control if history and science were to be trusted.  Bad things happened to people like her when they let their guard down to such a degree.  It wouldn’t do.  It wouldn’t do at all.

Besides, Jamie liked her big bed all to herself.  Nanny’s programming glitch had necessitated that the brilliant inventor resort to a relatively simple baby monitor in order to keep an eye on her infantilized paramour.  So, no.  No sharing.  Mommy would have her bed and baby would have his, and both would sleep better for it.  Though, she did admit, there was something deliciously naughty that she enjoyed about slipping a fresh diaper underneath him, climbing into the crib with him and taking him over the edge before fastening the diaper over his manhood and letting him drift to sleep.     Damnit…had she accidentally turned herself on already?  A quick peek at the monitor showed that her baby boy was thinking dirty thoughts as well, judging by the bulge in front and the way he’d begun impotently rubbing himself in his sleep.

Poor baby.

Jamie began to lazily masturbate and allowed the tender remembrances of recent days and nights to both stimulate her as well as allow her to reflect.  Without Nanny, the entire care of Jack had fallen to her; and she had risen to the challenge.  She fed him.  She supervised his playtime. She bathed him.  She dressed him.   She had changed every one of his diapers; even the ones that were less than pleasant.  And through it all, she had loved it.  Jamie Vasquez, one of the richest and most powerful people in the world had suddenly found herself more emotionally and sexually fulfilled than she could ever have been.

The struggle, the game of breaking and bending Jack to her will, was over; or so it seemed.  Jack was done fighting her.  He was her baby and she his Mommy.  She’d won. Game Over.

That wasn’t quite true, though; rather, the game had ended abruptly and then mutated into something else.   There was something different about him compared to her usual conquests.  He still blushed when she cooed at him, or talked about wiping his rump. He was a contrarian when it came to clothes.  If she chose the red onesie, he’d whine about preferring the green one.   He’d make faces if the nutrient enriched “baby food” she spoon fed him was vegetable flavored instead of fruit flavored, and would suckle even more voraciously at her breast soon after in some kind of vain attempt to rinse the taste from his mouth.  Poor boy either didn’t realize or didn’t care that that sort of behavior had all but guaranteed vegetables once a day for him.

Once, Jack had even dared to ask if he could use the potty; if there was a way to bypass the nanites in his system.  Sadly for him, just thinking about the act made his brain take stock of the condition of his bladder; causing the Dominance nanobots to force him to empty his bladder into his Pampers. The look of embarrassment on his face, his cheeks turning pink while the wetness indicator turned blue, caused Jamie to melt a little bit on the inside.  He really was like a baby that thought he was a big boy.   As an act of mercy, Jamie had changed him into a fresh diaper even if the scaled-up Pampers could easily have taken several more wettings.

The thing is, and Jamie wasn’t entirely sure that Jack was consciously aware of it, part of her boy toy genuinely liked being mothered this way. It was so obvious that anyone could have told.  He was enjoying this and wanting it so badly, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it.  He was struggling with her, still, but in a completely different manner than she had become accustomed to.  It was no longer a matter of “I’m a grown man, damnit”, but a matter of “But Mommy, I don’t wanna!” He would, though.  Mommy was always right.  It would just take a little bit of love to get her baby boy to come around.  He’d be happy.  She’d be happy.  They’d be happy.

Love?

 Happy?!

Was this how happy felt? She wasn’t plotting.  She wasn’t actively planning new ways of forcefully breaking him or bending him to his will.  All the young genius did was lay in bed, luxuriating the feel of silk sheets against her pale, creamy skin while pleasuring herself and looking forward to more maternal decadence.

Just as she was finishing herself off, Jamie noticed that the room had become decidedly darker.  Had that much time passed?  A glance at the clock next to the baby monitor told Jamie it was still only an hour past sunrise; still very much morning.  Yet unless she were having a stroke, it was as if an overcast filter had been placed over the world around her.  This was akin to being in a Zack Snyder film.  Light particles didn’t just behave erratically unless…

A low crackling filled the room and a breeze stirred in the air as every gaseous molecule went towards a vacuum being created right in front of the bathroom.  Blinding light.  Jamie reflexively closed her eyes as lightning in the shape of hole tore through the air, no, through the fabric of reality itself.

Great.  Company.  And it was blocking the nearest toilet.

“Balls.” Jamie muttered before fetching a suitable bathrobe and wrapping it around herself.

Twenty Minutes Later…

 

Jack awoke feeling terribly frustrated.  When his eyes opened, he realized that he had been impotently rubbing himself through his diaper in his sleep.  That was a shame.  In his dream he had been making love to Jamie; no diapers, no baby clothes, no cribs, nothing.  It was just him and her, fucking each other’s brains out.  Maybe it was the nanites lingering conditioning on his brain, but the tactile resemblance between a fully aroused Jamie and the inside of a wet diaper was damn near uncanny.  Jamie was still infinitely more preferable, but the sensation of a warm and swelling Pampers between his legs was definitely a step up from his right hand and a bottle of Jurgens.

Slowly, achingly, Jack pulled himself up to his knees, using the bars and railing of his giant crib.  His diaper saturated and swollen, the padding drooped and swayed a bit, kissing his thighs one by one as he gained his balance. Just below his belly button, childish renditions of Ernie and Cookie Monster danced on the adult sized Pampers Swaddlers.  At least the overnight diapers Jamie put him in didn’t have a wetness indicator…not that they needed one.

His crib. His diaper. The fuck?

How in the world had it come to this?  Why was he still here?  When Jamie’s personal android had gone all H.A.L. 9000 and decided to that Jamie needed to be diapered and brain hacked into infantilism, Jack had had the perfect opportunity to run.  He might not have been able to pee outside of his pants- and even then only if he had the right kind of underwear on- but he could have gotten away.  Nanny had been strong and had the capacity to be eerily stealthy when needed, but it’s not like the machine could have chased down a cab.

In hindsight, the diapered man could have finished this whole thing and brought Jamie Vasquez’s empire and her freak show past times in a few simple steps.  All he would have had to do was find a cop and lead them back to Infinitech.  He couldn’t say Jamie’s name so that anyone could understand them, or the name of the building, but he could have led people there with pleas of “help” and “follow me, can’t talk.”  Then the cops would have burst down the door to find a diapered and likely regressed Jamie Vasquez and this whole business would have become just another bad nightmare.

Even if nothing illegal could likely be pinned on her (it probably could, though) the P.R. nightmare would have been the financial and social death of her.  She’d have been a pariah; it didn’t take a genius to figure that out.  Even if he could never willingly pee into a toilet again, something as relatively rudimentary as a catheter could have surpassed her Dominance nanites.  It wouldn’t have been pleasant, but he could have had a measure of dignity…of independence…of adultness about his life.

Jack could have ruined her.

But for some reason he didn’t.

Instead, he had grabbed the highchair, heavy though it was, and beat the robot into a pile of scrap.  Like a Neanderthal, he had fashioned a crude weapon and swung for the fences; all brute force and no strategy beyond “kill it”.  Perhaps that was his brief and interesting time as professional wrestler coming to the surface.  Chair shots just came naturally to him.

As he had been wailing on the thing, he had been cursing and growling, more so in his mind than with his mouth.  All of the shouting and cursing would have likely just come out as “Mommy” anyways, so it was for the best.  Suffice it to say, in his mind’s eye, it wasn’t always Nanny that he was beating over the head and then decapitating using nothing more than blunt force trauma.

Why did he save her, then?  If he resented- no, too weak- hated her that much, why had he chosen to play things as he did?  He had been thinking with his dick. There was no truer way to put it, in Jack’s mind.  Drunk with success and drunk with wine, she had come onto him in a way that didn’t make him feel like a complete baby loser and he had succumbed to baser urges.

Then he saved her, and as the days went by into nearly a week, he was continuing to succumb. Again and again and again she’d seduced him into giving up more of himself in this perverse combination of Misery and a child’s game of “house”.   He was getting much more sex out of the deal now, but he was doing much more of what Mommy…what Jamie wanted.  He’d whine about what baby clothes she’d dress him in or what kind of slop she’d feed him.  He’d complain and object and negotiate with her, playing to her ego as his “caregiver”, but he wasn’t really gaining any ground, was he?  What could he ask of her that she’d be willing to give him?   He had gotten the clothes.   Now what?  Sippy cups instead of baby bottles?

What if Nanny’s “malfunction” had been a pre-planned charade, designed to lure him in?

The angry, manipulative, horrible part of his brain whispered to him that he was just biding his time.  He’d romance her.  He’d make her fall in love with him.  She’d give him his freedom, finally crazy with love as to trust him with his continence and his full vocabulary.  Then he’d betray her.  Whether this was a genuine plot, or just a fantasy to salve his bruised ego, Jack couldn’t begin to guess.  He likely wouldn’t know this about himself until the opportunity again presented itself.  At least he was being treated more like a baby than a baby doll, but could that be counted as progress?  Was he making it more difficult for him to want to escape by making his prison the slightest bit more pleasant?

Pleasant.

It was pleasant, wasn’t it?  Comfy clothes (that made changing his diapers easier).  Soft bed (that was a crib). Colorful toys (designed with a pre-schooler’s intellect in mind).   Pretty girl waiting on him, flirting with him, wiping his privates a few times a day (that called him “Jack-Jack” and “Baby” every chance she got).  Her glorious tits (that she wanted him to suck on).  A shiver traveled down his spine.  He could have escaped right now, if he wanted to.  Jamie might well be sleeping, but with an erect penis in a squishy diaper, the man-child didn’t want to escape just yet.  He’d bide his time, he told himself.  Pick his moment.  Then he’d find the truth about himself.

“Well, look who’s awake,” a soft seductive voice grabbed Jack’s attention.  A feeling of guilt- as if he’d been caught contemplating treason, or masturbating- washed over him as his head whipped around and took his captor in.  Clad in only a fluffy white bathrobe with the hem so short that Jack might soon know if she was wearing panties once she bent over, Jamie leaned in the doorway, smiling dreamily.  “Did you sleep well, little one?”

Mutely, Jack nodded as his so-called “Mommy” flounced into the giant nursery.  There was something in her eyes again; a hint of the old danger from before.  Shit.  The honeymoon was over.  Back to being a giant doll instead of a big baby.

A slender, delicate hand slipped through the bars of the crib and gave the front of the toddlerized man’s diaper a squeeze.  Involuntarily, Jack shuddered as he felt her intense grip even through the swollen and soggy padding.  He had been psyching himself up for some form of rebellion before she came in.  Now, as she held him in her hands, he was putty.  Thinking with his dick again.  “Wet,” she pronounced.  “I suppose we should get you changed, shouldn’t we?”  Again, Jack nodded.

“Someone’s not nearly as chatty as usual,” Jamie remarked while lowering the railing to the crib.  “Something wrong, Jack-Jack?”  She offered her hand up to Jack.

Jack shook his head.  “No ma’am,” he promised, taking her hand and allowing himself to be guided down to the floor.  The slender woman shot him a look and gave him a knowing, if condescending, smile.  Jack was confident in the fact that every word that he had for Jamie had been reprogrammed out of his head and replaced with “Mommy” when he spoke aloud.  Yet somehow, Jamie always seemed to know when Jack wasn’t trying to call her as such.

How the hell did she know that, anyway?

A little jolt of nervousness accompanied every step he took over to the changing table.  “Come along, little one,” Jamie cooed as she held his hand, “Mommy’s not gonna carry you right now.  You’ve gotta walk.”  That was new.  Jamie tended to keep to a script when she was in Mommy mode, and Jack had yet to hear this line.  The way she said that she wasn’t going to carry Jack, as opposed to couldn’t carry him.  He supposed she could carry him, if she really tried, but it would be slow, awkward, and uncomfortable for the both of them.

What was she up to?

Jack was shaken out of his reverie by sound of Velcro ripping off of imitation cloth-like cover.  He didn’t bother trying to cover himself as she pulled the diaper back and letting his stiff and rigid manhood taste fresh air for the first time in hours.   After the ninth or tenth change- Jack had already lost count- modesty around the woman was more habit and pretense than anything else.

He did shiver a bit when the first cold wipe made its way across his penis, causing it to slacken just a bit as she moved down to his testicles and taint.  Clean.  Relief.  The robot had been more efficient with its diaper changes than its creator; no missed spots or accidentally going over areas that didn’t want to go; but Jamie had managed to add a certain tenderness to the act.  A hand under his knees forced his legs and rump up enough so that his nurturing jailer could slide the soaked Pampers out from under his rump.  A strained grunt entered his ears as his he was lifted, followed by a muted sigh when his naked ass came back down to the mat.  For his own sake, he kept his legs up and his backside exposed so that Jamie remembered to wipe him there, too.

Jack’s neck craned up a bit, watching the blonde bombshell get a fresh diaper and unfold it before again leveraging his legs up and slipping the new undergarment beneath him.  The coolness of the baby powder on his nether regions destroyed whatever chances his morning erection had of making a comeback.

“Jamie,” Jack croaked, knowing full well that what really came out of his mouth was “Mommy,” “when are you going to build a new Nanny?”  Afraid that Jamie would revert to her old ways, Jack hoped he could plant the idea in her head.  Hopefully he could buy himself some time to relax while Jamie was building the damned thing.

Her laughter was bubbly, and laced with bitter poison.  “Oh sweetie, that’s not going to happen.  I don’t need to make a new Nanny; not when I’ve got such a good baby.”  For what must have been at least the thirtieth time that week, Jamie pulled the fresh diaper up between Jack’s already spread legs, pulling the thing taught on the sides and taping it up around him.   “Mommy loves her little baby.”  She gave the front of his diaper a little pat, the same as always.  Something was different though.

Mommy loves her little baby.

Loves?  Little baby?

Jack had heard the command phrase “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby-“ dozens of times since he’d been roped into this mess,; most often when Jamie wanted to make him ejaculate in his pants uncontrollably.  However, Jamie had never deigned to use the proper words “love” or “little”.  What’s more, Jamie had only ever applied the terms of affection to the deeds she wished.  She had only ever said that she “wuvved” it when her “widdle baby” did something for her.  She’d never just said that she loved him or that he was little.    And for reasons he couldn’t quite articulate, that slight difference in phrasing aroused him tremendously.

As Jamie began to withdraw her hand, Jack’s desperate mitts reached for her wrist as he thrust up into her palm, instantly hard again.  “Oh, is baby Jack-Jack feeling frisky?” she giggled, the barest hint of her own naughty grin flashing across her face.  She began to rub at his crotch, driving him wild.  He was a dog in heat.

So much harder while dry.  Like masturbating with a dry towel.

Jack groaned and moaned on the changing table, trying to think of the dirtiest pastiche of thoughts he could imagine.  Unfortunately, he was still in a diaper, the soft paper like crinkling rattling through his ears.  The smell of baby powder invaded his nose.  He could only block out the bright pastel colors of his nursery if he slammed is eyes shut, but then there was nothing to distract him from the sensation of having his dick rubbed through fluffy yet dry cloth.

Necessity is the mother of inventions in all things, and even Jack’s penis could be creative when the need arose.

“Mommy?” Jack squeaked up at Jamie.  “Spank me, please.”

“What?” the question seemed to take Jamie aback.

“Spank me,” Jack repeated himself. Without asking, Jack rolled over and stuck his padded rump in the air a bit.  “Please…”

A moan of intrigue hummed in Jamie’s throat.  “Oh really?” she asked as her hand began to caress the back of his diaper.  “Have you been a naughty baby?”

“Yes!” Jack heard himself say.

“Say it.”  Her tone brooked no argument, and there was more than a hint of anticipation in her voice.

“I’ve been…” Jack paused.  His pride or his penis: both couldn’t be satisfied.  “I’ve been a naughty baby.” He hissed the words more than spoke.

“I’m sorry, honey, what was that?”

“I’ve been a naughty baby!” he yelped.

SMACK!

A jolt passed through him.

“That’s right,” Jamie leaned over and whispered in his ear.  “You have been.”

“You’ve been…”

SMACK!

“…a naughty…”

SMACK!

“…naughty…”

SMACK!

“…baby.”

It hurt just enough.  Here was something that Jamie was infinitely better at (for his purposes at least) than her android.  Every type her palm connected with his padded behind he jumped a bit in pleasure as happy hormones flooded his system.  Almost there. Not quite though.  The smacks continued, but like getting drunk on beer, Jack was only managing to maintain when he really wanted to escalate.

“Mommy,” he gasped over the fifteenth or sixteenth swat his posterior.  “take my diaper off.  Please,” he added.

She licked her lips in response, the heat radiating off of her.  “Babies aren’t allowed to take their diapers off, sweetie.”

“I know,” he replied.  “That’s why I’m asking you.”   Jamie tilted her head and looked at Jack; a haze seeming to lift from her eyes.

“You really do want this, don’t you?” she asked.

“YES!”

Jamie leaned forward and gave her man-baby a kiss on the cheek.  “Alright, then,” she said.  “I’ll give you a few minutes of unplanned grown-up time, but then you have to do something for me.  Deal?”

“Deal!”   Had Jack not been thinking with his penis, his more rational brain would have exalted in the fact that Jamie was truly negotiating with him, instead of demanding things of him.  This was surely a step in the right direction.  Instead, he was exalting as Jamie began to reach for the tapes of his still clean diaper, knowing that his dick was about to get wet in a manner that didn’t involve incontinence or baby wipes.

It didn’t even take five minutes. He didn’t even get off the changing table.  The diaper never even got out from under him. She didn’t even take her bathrobe off.

Taped back into his Pampers, Jack saw the world clearly again through post-orgasm eyes.  Trapped.  Still Trapped.  Still diapered.  At least he’d gotten more sex.  Worth it for the time being.  As expected, Jamie came with a Mickey Mouse t-shirt and sat him up as she yanked it over his head; him allowing her to guide his arms through the sleeves.

The t-shirt and diaper look was expected.  Jamie’s demeanor may have changed since her rescue, but her overall mission statement hadn’t skipped a beat; she liked it to be obvious that he was diapered. The thing that really caught him off guard was what followed.

“Overalls?” Jack said as Jamie brought out the denim clothing.

“Shortalls actually,” she corrected him as she slid the pants up his legs and worked the straps over his shoulders.  “Snaps along the inside, of course.  It’ll make it easier to change you while we’re out.”

“Out?!”

.20 Minutes Ago

        “Hello Jamie,” said the figure that had just exited from the rip in reality.  If it wasn’t for the punk-rock streak of purple going through the other woman’s hair, and her midnight black pants-suit, Jamie might have been looking in a mirror.

The brilliant and beautiful billionaire fastened her bathrobe on extra tight as the rift behind her doppelganger closed, leaving a mirror image of her still blocking the bathroom.  “Seven-twenty-eight,” Jamie acknowledge the presence of the other, however curtly.  She palmed the compact sized super computer next to the baby monitor, and slipped it into one of the robe’s pockets.  On the video feed, Jack still dozed peacefully, impotently trying to masturbate through the saturated overnight diaper blocking his access.

“There’s no need to be so formal, Jamie,” the duplicate told her.  “You can call me Jamie.”  She stepped out of the bedroom and casually sat down on the Texas King mattress that Jamie had been luxuriating in moments before her arrival. “Nice bed.”

Jamie ignored the other’s invitation to casual courtesy and cut to the chase. “What are you doing here, Seven-twenty-eight?”  She walked into the bathroom; not to use the facilities, but to make sure her little case of Dominance pills was still accounted for.  A quick check showed that the crawler pill and the final pill were still there as expected.  Good.

The eerily familiar voice of her visitor echoed off the bathroom walls in reply.  “We’re going straight to titles and designations?  Skipping the pleasantries?  Fine, Ninety-seven.  How are you?”

Jamie slipped the case into another pocket of her bathrobe.  Everything was accounted for.  Now she could speak in earnest.  “I’m fine.” Jamie replied briskly, stepping out of the bathroom.  “You always have had that desire to hear our name spoken as much as possible.”

“As compared to the compulsive need to be called ‘Mommy’?” The Jamie in the black pantsuit replied.  “It doesn’t matter how many times they call you that, Ninety-seven. it’s not going to solve your Little problem.”

“You have your quirks, I have mine.” Jamie looked her visitor in the eyes.  There was another difference, a minor imperfection.  The other Jamie’s eyes didn’t match, one green and one blue.  Still, it was entirely possible, Jamie admitted to herself that her near duplicate might consider matching eyes to be a flaw.  “You still haven’t answered my question, Seven-twenty-eight.  What are you doing here?”

“Just making the rounds as per usual,” Jamie’s visitor laid back on the bed.  “I like to keep tabs on how everyone’s games are going.  Who’s won.  Who’s lost.  Who’s still playing.  The usual.”

Jamie stood there looking at the other her.  Laying back on the bed.  Using someone else’s space and property as if it were your own; as if you were as familiar and comfortable in their place of power as they were. Classic power play.  Textbook mind games.  If she’d been eating breakfast, Jamie was certain this intruder would have made sure to casually take a bite for herself.  Was Jamie this insufferable, or was that just a quirk of Seven-twenty-eight’s?  It was so hard to tell when dealing with others so like yourself.

Two could play at this game.  Jamie closed the distance between the two of them and laid next to the slightly different variation of herself.  Displaying the same level of comfort and familiarity, she scooted so close that they might be about to cuddle or readying themselves to rip each other’s throats out.  Either option was likely. “You mean jealously keep tabs on the Mommies and feeling smug and superior towards the babies.”

“You’re no better,” Jamie’s not quite twin retorted.  Seven-twenty-eight continued to look up at the ceiling, twirling a strand of purple hair in her finger.  “You use that fancy little gadget of yours and that…what do you call it?”  Her tone was snotty, like remembering Jamie’s greatest accomplishment was somehow beneath her.

“Fate formula.”

“Yes, that one,” Seven-twenty-eight said.  “Your fate formula.  You use your calculations and gadgets.  Jamie Six-sixty-six reads runes and entrails.  Jamie Fifty-two taps into our collective unconsciousness and draws pictures.  I just happen to hop around from place to place.  Every one of us who is aware and has the means does it.  I just prefer to see things with my own eyes.”

Bitch had a point.  They all did it in some way or another.  They were all aware of each other, and the others that weren’t.  “I wasn’t expecting you for at least another six months.”  Jamie said, changing the subject.

“My travel route is getting shorter,” Seven-twenty-eight sighed.  “I tend not to check in on the diapered ones after I pay my last respects.  I don’t want to end up accidentally sharing a crib with them.”

Jamie sat up.  “How much shorter?”  The last time she had checked, Jamie knew the field had been getting smaller, over half of them babied and in diapers, and maybe a tenth of the remaining ones managing to be the ones doing the changing instead, but the playing field hadn’t been shrinking so fast that Seven-twenty-eight’s bi-annual visits would be moved up by half a year.

“They got to Five-forty-three.” Seven-twenty-eight replied.  Now she sat up, smoothing out the little creases in her pantsuit and brushing the shock of purple hair back into place.

A snort involuntarily passed through Jamie’s nose.  “That figures.  Wasn’t she the drug addict?  Took hallucinogens so that she could see through our eyes?”  Honestly, Jamie was surprised that Five-forty-three had lasted this long.  Apparently fate favored the stupid, but only for so long.

“That’s the one,” Seven-twenty-eight confirmed.  “Someone made a drug that causes regression.  Re-lease or something.  She got hooked.  Now she’s sucking her thumb like the vast majority of us.”

“Figures.”

Jamie remained seated as her twin stood up and turned to face her.  “Here’s a question, though.  Why didn’t you already know all this?  You’re one of the few Jamies that’s hard for me to surprise, what with all of your little calculations and simulations and whatnot.”

“I’ve been busy,” Jamie replied.  “I actually haven’t made any calculations in a few days.”  She was on the verge of getting defensive.  Who was this…this other her to question…herself?

Now it was Seven-twenty-eight’s turn to be surprised.  “Busy?” she asked. “With what?”

“A baby,” Jamie answered.  She stood up to look her other self in the eyes.   Some rough intuition was warning her; some little voice inside her head was telling her not to divulge any more information than necessary.  There was a fight coming.

Jamie didn’t gaze into her opposite’s mismatched eyes before the other pivoted around and began walking around her bedroom, as if taking a lazy tour.  “You’re always busy with babies.  You’re still always poking around on that little flashy square of yours.”  The demon bitch in the black suit spun around on her heel and gestured to Jamie.  “I know you’ve got it on that skimpy little robe you’re wearing, but you’re not plugging away at it like you normally do.  Something’s different; but what?”

“I think I found one that will satisfy,” Jamie explained.  A satisfied smirk spread across her lips.  There.  She said it.  She was about to be out of the game at last.  Her personal existential struggle was almost over.  Her calculations had hinted at it.  Her gut was confirming it.  The fact that a tiny voice in her head was screaming, not out of fear, but out of jealousy- she didn’t want to share her new baby with this intruder- was solidifying the idea.

“Oh really?” the visitor was clearly feigning indifference.  “What’s his name?”

“Jack.”

The other Jamie stopped dead in her tracks as if an actual curse had been cast. “Jack?”

Oblivious to her doppelgangers reaction, tiniest blush came to Jamie’s cheeks.  “I prefer to call him ‘baby Jack’, or ‘Jack-Jack’; something cute; but yes.”

“Jack?”  The Jamie in the black pantsuit pressed.  “You’re sure?  Not Jackson, or John or Jim?”

“Yes, Jack,” Jamie confirmed.  She shot the other her a questioning glare.  “Why?”

A look of uncalculated, genuine, and sincere pity washed over Jamie Seven-twenty-eight. “Oh, you poor thing, Ninety-seven.  I’m so sorry.”  Sorry?  Sorry for what?  The question must have shown somewhere in those deep blue eyes of hers, because her twin with the mismatched eyes and the streak of purple hair was shaking her head.  Jamie had just told her other self that she was close to finding a cure for herself, but her uninvited guest was acting like Jamie had just told her that she’d failed.   “You’re close to the end, all right,” Jamie Seven-twenty-eight told her, “but not the one you’re hoping for.”

Jamie was about to ask what she meant, was about to explain how lucky she’d been, about to share everything she’d gone through lately with her other self- someone who completely understood what she’d been going through.  Instead, she was treated to a lecture.  “I know your little fate formula is fairly accurate with only a slight margin for error,” Seven-twenty-eight said, shaking her head, “but from what I’ve seen with my own two eyes, you’re in trouble.”

“How?”  Jamie was more than dubious; more than perplexed.  For the first time in a long while, Jamie was completely and utterly flabbergasted.  Nervously, she clutched at the tiny supercomputer in her pocket.  She couldn’t have made a miscalculation.  She couldn’t have.

Seven-twenty-eight began lecturing.  The intruder was the professor, and the mastermind was the student.  “Jamie One-thirty-one.  Normal bell curve.  Bought a house.  Haunted by a nanny-ghost.  Her and her husband both turned into diapered drooling idiots.  The only benefit is occasionally the ghost beats them off to ensure compliance.  Husband’s name?  Jack.”

“That’s just one example,” Jamie objected.

Unperturbed, Jamie’s opposite continued.  “Jamie Seven-fifteen.  Same scenario, only it was one of the Fae that got her.  Her husband was also Jack.”

Jamie’s arms crossed her chest.  A gesture of discomfort and protection. “I already own property.  I’m a billionaire now.”

“Jamie Eight-twenty-six,” the other, not-quite identical woman prattled on, “Her husband opened a box with a cursed tape player in it.  Both of them spend their days mittened, bootied, padded, and bibbed.  Guess what his name was.”

“It’s a good thing this is a non-magical dimension, then, isn’t it?” Jamie countered.  This was just ridiculous.  There were infinite universes, and infinite Jamies.  Of course a few of them were going to end up regressed with someone who happened to be named Jack.  Jack was a common enough name.

Her opposite was a prosecutor cross-examining her on the witness stand.  She looked Jamie dead in the eye and said, “Jamie Four-fifty and her boyfriend, Jack, end up under the perpetual diapered care of his mad scientist mother.  Jamie Three-sixteen and her husband, again Jack, hypnotized and shrunk so that they’re perma-babies.  Jack and Jamie Nine-thirty-one watch some DVD’s for a baby shower and find out that the baby shower is for them.   Jack Twenty-two’s ex-girlfriend turns him into a sissy and his wife gets dragged into diapers for the ride.  Would you like to guess the unlucky woman’s name?”

“Well…”

“Jamie Fifty-four, Jamie Seventy-four, and Jamie One-fourteen: all sharing an oversized nursery with the same skinny, black haired doofus.  Need. I. Go. On?”

Jamie sucked in her breath.  She hadn’t even met Jack, hadn’t seen him, and knew what he looked like.  This was particularly unsettling.  Her figures, her gut, her experience.  The couldn’t all be worthless, could they?  “My calculations…” she began

“Are wrong,” Seven-twenty-eight interrupted.  “Reality beats expectation, every time, Ninety-seven.  You’re better off having Nanny feed him that last little bit of brain wiping nanites and saying ‘Bye bye big boy’ and leaving him on some rich fetishist’s doorstep.”

Jamie broke off the gaze.  “I…I don’t have Nanny anymore.”

“Why not?!” Seven-twenty-eight asked incredulously. “That thing was amazing.”

“It malfunctioned,” Jamie explained. “It tried to give me the baby treatment.”

“When? What happened?”

Then she told her.  She’d been hoping to tell her, at least one version of her.  Had been vaguely fantasizing about it for a day or so now.  Things had been working out oh so well, and it would have been nice to gloat.  Instead though, she was recounting the incident with looks of horror on her face.

She’d let her guard down.  She’d given in to her baby and let him have something he’d wanted but she hadn’t planned for him.  She hadn’t planned.  She’d broken her own rigid code of conduct and triggered some kind of errant glitch in her trusty robot’s software.  Jack was looking less and less like her knight in padded armor, and instead was seeming like her first step on a downward spiral.

“Your Nanny malfunctions and decides you need to be babied right as you’re letting this Jack have some form of free-will and sexual reward?  Take a hint, sister.”  Seven-twenty-eight drove the point home more succinctly than Jamie ever would have to herself.

“The calculations, though…”

“That you just told me you haven’t been paying attention to for days. Face it, Ninety-seven, you’re starting to slip, and it only takes one slip for people like us.”

“No,” Jamie shook her head.  Defiance bubbling up inside of her. “I did the math right.  Even with the slight margin of error to account for free will, what happened then shouldn’t have happened.”

The doppelganger scowled.  “Then why didn’t you check your math again after things went wrong?”  A pause built up.  Jamie didn’t have an answer.  The pause became pregnant.  Grew and grew.  Until it finally burst.  “Could it be you want this to happen to you?” the other Jamie spat.  “Could it be that you’re tired of struggling to stay an adult and you want an excuse to fail?  Did you ever think that maybe on some subconscious level your little calculations aren’t keeping you away from being a baby; that maybe their nudging you closer and closer to falling off the edge?”

“NO!” Jamie shouted.  The brilliant inventor and scientist, inventor of Dominance, who could mathematically prove causality, fate and extra-dimensional existence, would only let herself be talked down too so much; even if it was another version of herself doing the talking.  “I’m not wrong.  I don’t make mistakes like that.  I’m the safest- and happiest- that I can remember being in a long time.”

“Okay…” Jamie Seven-twenty-eight wrinkled her nose. “…prove it.  Take him out.  And I don’t mean in a limo or to that big fancy office of yours where you control the environment.  Put both of yourselves are out there.   Make yourselves targets.  If you’re right, you’ll be fine.  You’ll get your man-baby.  You’ll get to be Mommy.  You’ll spend the rest of your life changing diapers instead of using them.  If your calculations are so thorough and this Jack isn’t going to ruin you, you have nothing to fear.”

“Fine!” Jamie accepted the challenge from herself.  “I’ll do it.  Now, if you excuse me, I’ve got to go get my baby ready for a walk.”

[Sarah Penguin]

[Personalias]

4 hours ago, Sarah Penguin said:

Thanks

[Babyjustin25]

Love this story

[Personalias]

An Exhibition.

To say that Jack was looking around nervously would have been an understatement.  As he traveled down the busy street with Jamie, passerby going by them without so much as a glance, Jack was on the verge of an out-and-out panic attack.   His breath was fast and shallow, his heart drummed in his chest, his stomach was doing flips. All it would have taken was one strange stare, one queer look- like the one that the doorman had given him as he had been paraded out into Jamie’s limo wearing nothing but a onesie- and it wouldn’t have taken Dominance nanites to make him wet his pants.

When Jamie had dressed him for the day in a surprisingly mature outfit and announced that they were going out, Jack hadn’t expected a literal walk through the streets of the city.  Granted, a Mickey Mouse T-Shirt, a diaper, and shortalls weren’t exactly “grown-up”, but mature clothes were a matter of relativity when Jamie picked out the outfits.  Until today Jamie hadn’t dressed Jack in anything that would so much as cover his thighs, so this was a nice surprise.

What stood out even more was Jamie’s particular outfit for this outing.  There was the diaper bag that Jamie had made a point of showing off, complete with big compartments to fit big diapers. That might as well have been a part of Jack’s outfit that Jamie carried for him. More important was Jamie’s own ensemble.  Big dark glasses covered her eyes, a bandana concealed her blonde hair, and a coat just this size of baggy concealed her amazing figure.  It didn’t take a genius to realize that she was obviously taking pains to avoid being recognized.  Ironically enough, Jack thought it made her stand out even more.  How good could a disguise mean anything if you instantly recognized it as a disguise?  Then again Jamie was full of surprises so far.

Everything about this morning had been a surprise, truth be told:  Jamie’s continued nurturing approach to his treatment; the slightly more mature (or at least more concealing) wardrobe they both dressed in; the sex.

The sex had been particularly surprising.  It was exceedingly difficult to think of oneself as a baby when your so-called “Mommy” was banging you on the changing table.  Then again, he’d been wearing a diaper, freshly changed, had had to beg his Mommy to undress him and mount him, and he had still been on the changing table, clean diaper beneath him as he climaxed inside of her.  As soon as he had finished, Jamie had re-diapered him and dressed him back up like a toddler before going outside with him.   Jamie had as of yet refused to address him as if he were anything other than a particularly precocious preschooler (if that), yet over the last few day she had done things with him…to him?…no, with him that would have definitely crossed the line had he not been an adult.  So what was he in this deranged fantasy she was forcing him to participate in? An adult? A baby?  Both? Adult Baby…how ridiculous was that notion?

Such a scenario would have been especially ridiculous, if not for Jack’s present predicament.  Even in adult sized Pampers and baby clothes, even though he was forced to relieve and release himself into his pants while being spoon fed pureed mush, Jack was still very clearly an adult.  No amount of nanites could change that.  But something had changed.

The least of these changes was the lack of regard that the people passing by as Jamie walked along with him.  Yes, this was the home of the Naked Cowboy; a man in not-quite overalls, the slightest padded bulge around his waist was nothing in comparison, but to Jack’s thinking he should have gotten some second glances; some form of remark or double take.

That was because the biggest change in circumstances was indeed remarkable; or so Jack felt.  By the loosest of definitions, they were going for a walk.  Jack wasn’t walking, though: instead, as if he were actually a small child, Jamie was carrying him down the street on her hip, his legs wrapped around her torso while his white knuckled hands clung to her shoulders for dear life.  Yet, despite all reason, Jamie showed no signs of dropping him.  She didn’t shake, didn’t grunt or groan, didn’t slow her pace.  In fact, she was passing by random tourists, heads buried in maps or necks craning up at the skyscrapers.  That fact should have merited a few second looks, even in this town, but it didn’t.

Jamie had been careful up until now; spiriting Jack away by private limousine, and taking back entrances to her secluded office and apartment.  The only people who had treated Jack like an infant had obviously either been in on the act- like the gaggle of beautiful women who had cooed over him on his first day as “Product tester”, or the doorman at Jamie’s building who had obviously seen enough of Vasquez’s diapered boy toys in the past. The general’s disgusted reaction upon seeing him playing on the floor in a onesie had cemented Jack’s reality that he was still just a man in custom baby clothes. These people on the street were ignoring him, though, treating the sight of a grown man being carried by a petite young woman as if it were completely commonplace. He had made enough eye contact to know that people saw him; just, no one was particularly bothered by it.  The whole experience made him feel so insignificant…so small…so…so…so little.  No way on Earth could Jamie have hired or bribed everyone on the street to barely give him a passing glance.

If they had been paid actors, it was more likely Jamie would have hired these strangers to talk to him, to tell him how cute he was or something; put on a show, not ignore him as if he were any other tot.  To date, Jamie hadn’t demonstrated that level of subtlety. All out of reasonable options, Jack could only think of unreasonable ones.  Maybe he was actually a baby.

“Calm down, baby boy,” Jamie said in soothing, syrupy tones.  “Mommy’s got you.”

Head still on a swivel, still feeling anything but secure, Jack managed to ask, “How?”  He bobbed up and down as his “Mommy” chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it, babykins,” Jamie said.  “You wouldn’t understand.”

Through gritted teeth, Jack managed to reply, “Try me.”  Then he thought to add, “I’m your product tester.  What exactly am I testing here?”

“You are, aren’t you?”  Jamie mused.  “Okay, let’s test.” She stopped on the sidewalk, halting her stride long enough to reach into the bib pocket of Jack’s shortalls, producing an adult sized pacifier.  How long had that been in there?  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby sucks on his paci.”  Jack had no chance to protest.  His own hand reached out and plucked the dummy from out of her hand.  His lips betrayed him and opened so he could begin suckling on the rubber nipple.

“Mmph” he tried, unsuccessfully, to scream from behind the gag.  Too busy sucking, his mouth wouldn’t open enough to make a proper yelp.  The nipple was sweet too, like sugar water, or a lollipop.  For about ten seconds, a saccharine cherry flavor seeped into Jack’s mouth, then vanished into a bland, tasteless rubber. The nipple had been coated in something.  Dominance!  Jack realized too late.  The pacifier was likely coated with the stuff; a bit of flavored coating to stick the stuff to the teat.  Jack wanted to panic; wanted to cry; wanted to analyze and wonder what new infantile behavior his captor had just programmed into him…and then he didn’t.

His heart rate slowed.  His breathing steadied.  His muscles slackened a bit, no longer holding onto Jamie for dear life  He wasn’t quite drugged, just incredibly, incredibly calm…pacified, one might say.

“Looks like my newest batch worked,” his Mommy nodded in approval.  “I can’t control your active cognition,” Jamie explained, renewing her leisurely stroll down the crowded city sidewalk, “but I can program your brain to release certain chemicals when exposed to particular stimuli.”  Unable to feel anything but amazingly calm, Jack just nodded.

“Right now,” Jamie explained, still walking, “your brain is being flooded with serotonin, and combatting all of that nasty adrenaline you’ve got going on. Don’t worry,” she continued.  “That’s the only conditioned response at the moment.”  The sucking rhythm of Jack sucking on the pacifier slowed, and then finally stopped, but Jack’s lips were still quite content to house the pacifier.

“Wuh elfe?” the babified adult mumbled around the plastic guard.  “How cawwy?”  Jack could have said a more complex, more adult sentence, he supposed, but it was just easier to mumble clipped queries since his mouth refused to drop the pacifier.

“Hmm?” Jamie looked at her padded plaything.  “Oh, like how am I carrying you and why isn’t anyone stopping us or saying anything?”  Jack nodded.  That was exactly what was still puzzling him.  “Credit given where credit is due,” the mad genius said, “you kind of gave me the idea.   I figured that if I could repurpose some of my babying technology for military purposes, then I could modify some failed military experiments and use them so that I could be a better Mommy for you.”

“Wike wuh?”

Jamie made a shrug so non-chalant it had to have been choreographed.  Like any mad-scientist she really did love to monologue and explain herself it seemed.  “Anti-gravity suit.” She said.  “There’s a  special circuitry mesh woven into your shortalls that uses the pull of gravity on your body to power it and lift you up away from the earth.”  Anti-gravity?!  The spurt of urine that seeped into his diaper might have actually been from surprise.  “It was supposed to let the wearer fly,” Jamie went on, “ but something is always lost in the transition, it seems.  Instead of letting you fly, the suit is just supporting your weight so that I’m only lifting ten to twenty pounds.”

That’s why she was able to carry him!  His outfit was literally doing all of the hard work. Effectively, he weighed less than an average two-year-old.  “I couldn’t figure out a way to condense the material more than I already have, though,” she admitted.  “That’s the only reason you’re not in a onesie.  Even my brilliance has its limits.”

So the only reason he was being allowed to dress this maturely was because Jamie hadn’t figured out a more infantile package to seal him in.  Part of Jack believed that if Jamie had found a way to weave in whatever fantastical anti-gravity device into just a diaper, she would have done it, and she would have gone back to carting him around with nothing but his piss moistened crotch covered.

Jack’s own know-it-all personality raged to the surface.  ‘Foofie jammas,” the words mumbled themselves out of Jack’s mouth.

“Ooooh, you’re right,” Jamie grinned at him.  “I could have done footie pajamas instead.  That’d be much more appropriate for your age, wouldn’t it?”  Damnit!  Why was he helping this woman humiliate him?  What was wrong with him?  “Even in baby jammies, nobody would give you a second look, though, “ his captor informed him.

Jack tried to puzzle out a better way to express his wonder, but only one word was needed. “Why?”  Even that simple question, slightly garbled by a rubber dummy, managed to make him sound infantile.

Jamie giggled in response.  “Because of your paci, silly,” she said.  She reached up and tapped the button shield on his pacifier.  “Mommy slipped in a subsonic subliminal broadcaster.  It broadcasts a signal that goes straight to the perception centers of the brain, but is still too high pitched for human beings to consciously recognize.  Anyone who doesn’t already know better will see you as my baby boy.  It’s what hypnosis wishes it could be.”  Slack jawed in disbelief, Jack stared at her as his pacifier tumbled out of his mouth, the clip on his shirt being the only thing keeping it from the cement below.

“You could have done this the whole time?” he gasped.

The smile on Jamie’s face was one of pure delight.   “Well not the whooooole time,” she said, batting her eyes, “but yeah…kinda.  I just had to take a few days off and think outside the box.”  The front of Jack’s diaper became significantly warmer as his bladder let loose in absolute surprise and shock.  True to form, though, the feeling of actual wetness didn’t last long as his liquid excrement was quickly absorbed and wicked away from his skin, the diaper beginning to swell.

She’d done it.  The bitch had done it.  She’d found a way for everyone to see him as the baby she treated him as…and he’d inadvertently given her the idea.  He hadn’t specifically told her to make some crazy hypnosis device, he hadn’t even known she had this particular invention; but he’d inspired her to start rethinking her inventions to begin with.  He had even destroyed the thing that had carted him around before, making Jamie need to find a new way to transport and coddle him- and necessity was the mother of invention. Jack’s own actions had gotten the ball rolling, and it was all downhill from here, it seemed.

He should be angry.  He should be furious.  But the effects of the pacifier still lingered; he literally couldn’t bring himself to be angry, it seemed.  It was probably for the best, come to think of it.  Jamie still had the advantage and it wouldn’t have done him any good to throw a tantrum, just yet.

Tantrum?

Fuck!

Why was he internally labeling attempts to struggle and resist, to escape this fate, a “tantrum?”   His brain’s language centers were clearly being tampered with more than he was initially led to believe.

Stop. Think.  Re-assess the situation.  This thing dangling from his neck had a weakness, otherwise Jamie wouldn’t have classified it as a “failure.”  “Why was it a failure?” Jack asked.

Jamie picked up the pacifier dangling from the clip, and popped it into her grown toddler’s mouth before asking “What was that, Jack-Jack?”

“Why faiwuh?” Jack repeated himself.

Jamie sighed.  “Cameras,” she said.  “This was originally meant as an infiltration device, but the subliminal message doesn’t do a thing to cameras.  Couldn’t sell a cloaking device that could get past secret service agents in person, but not a mall-cop on monitor duty.”  Jack’s brain kicked into overdrive.  That meant that any surveillance devices would record exactly what was going on: a grown ass woman toting around a grown ass man sucking on a pacifier.

That also explained why Jamie was going incognito.  Jack?  Jack was no one.  Jamie Vasquez was rich and famous.  She couldn’t afford to be recognized.  A stray image from an ATM camera could expose her.  The last piece of the puzzle fell into place for Jack.  He could cuase his captor so much trouble right now if he wished.  All he had to do was rip the scarf and glasses off of her head, and she’d be a risk.  Some lady with a baby?  Who cared?  Who wouldn’t want a selfie, though, with the Jamie Vasquez?  Oh, she had a little one?  Who knew?  Why yes, he can be in the picture, why not?  Then they’d look at the picture and the truth would be out.

In her boldness and excitement to test out her newest toys, Jamie was swimming with sharks.  Jack could rip the scarf off, and watch the dominos fall.  Yet, he didn’t.  The unnatural calm had given him a bit of clarity.  What good would causing trouble for Jamie accomplish?  To stir the pot now would only earn him a punishment and Vasquez was still charismatic and clever enough to talk around some yokel with a camera.

Jack could picture the exchange in his mind:

“Congratulations random citizen. I, world famous inventor, Jamie Vasquez, was merely testing out my latest inventions.  Marvelous, aren’t they?  Gotcha good, didn’t I?  Oh him?  He’s my product tester;  agreed to help me test them out, eccentric billionaire genius that I am.  Isn’t that right Jack-Jack?”  Then she’d lean in and whisper, “Mommy wuvs it when her little baby tells them what she wants them to hear,” she’d whisper.  And then that would be that.

No.  This was good knowledge, but best not to act irrationally. Better to store this information in the back of mind where he could use it later.  Better to save his struggling for later and bide his time.  Jack gripped onto Jamie as she suddenly turned right into a building.

Where were they?  Jack had been so busy piecing things together that he had failed to notice his surroundings.  It didn’t take him long to figure it out, however.  The smell of grease and salt, the sound of people ordering entire meals using only numbers, the Golden Arches.

Still being toted around on her hip, Jack looked at his caretaker and scoffed.  “Reawy?” he mumbled past the pacifier.

Behind the dark tint of her sunglasses, Jamie’s eyes twinkled with delight.  “We haven’t had breakfast yet, have we?” she cooed.  “You didn’t think Mommy would let her widdle baby go hungry, do you?”

“Hewe?” Jack blanched.  “In pubwik?”  McDonald’s breakfast:  It wasn’t even good fast food as far as breakfast went. McMuffins and hash browns were nothing compared to Big Macs and fries.  If she was on some exhibition kick, couldn’t she have at least taken him to Waffle House?

Her hand grabbed his and maneuvered it down to her breasts, forcing them there.  “I could always feed you the other way,” she whispered.  “No one will look twice.”  Jack’s brain and his penis were suddenly at odds.  Blood drained from his face and his stomach turned at the idea of doing something like that in public; meanwhile below his waist his member was gearing up with excitement of being so wickedly naughty.  A nagging little voice teased him in the back of his brain: Go ahead.  She’s right.  No one will think there’s anything wrong.  Have your fun. Even if the security cameras catch wind of this, they won’t notice until you’re long gone.  Give her what she wants and get a little of what you crave at the same time.  That’s how this whole relationship works, right?  Right.

The room practically shook as Jack moved his head back and forth.  “Nuh-uh,” he added for emphasis.  “Pancakef, pweafe”

Jamie booped him on the nose, her sparkling grin unable to be concealed by the tacky disguise. “If my Jack-Jack wants pancakes, then pancakes he’ll get.”  They went to the front counter, a cashier waiting to take an order.  The lady couldn’t have been much older than either Jack or Jamie; thirty at most, but her already tired expression- long morning apparently- gave a certain air of weariness.  She was both their peer, and much, much, older at the same time.

“Welcome to McDonald’s,” the lady said automatically and with forced enthusiasm, “what would you like?”

Jamie glanced at the menu.  “A fruit and yogurt parfait for me,” Jamie said, “and a strawberry banana smoothie to drink.”  She paused, waiting for the cashier to plug in the order.  “And for my little man,” Jack’s captor made a show of pinching his cheek, “some hotcakes and a juice box.”

The pinching of Jack’s cheek made him blush a bit, and that was all the cue the cashier needed.  “Awww…what a little cutie,” the cashier remarked.  That confirmed what Jack had been fearing. He was a baby, as far as the people around him were concerned.  Like a bashful child, Jack buried his head in Jamie’s shoulder in a vain attempt to hide.  “That’ll be-“

Before she could finish, Jamie had reached into the pocket of her baggy coat and slapped down a twenty.  “That should take care of it.  Keep the change.”

“Yes ma’am,” the cashier smiled.  “Your order will be out shortly.”

Jack felt Jamie shift her hand underneath his bum and give it a quick squeeze.  “Speaking of change,” Jamie brought up.  “Where’s your bathroom?  My baby boy needs a new diaper soon.”

Jack’s head snapped up. “Hey!”  Again, the pacifier tumbled out of his mouth, and dangled from his Mickey Mouse t-shirt.

The cashier giggled and gestured around the counter to the back of the restaurant.  “Bathroom is right over there,” she said.  “I remember when my little girl started getting embarrassed about getting her diaper changed.  It meant she was close to being ready for potty training.”

“Oh, I don’t think my little Jack-Jack is ready to use the big boy potty yet,” Jamie practically shouted.  “I don’t think he could use it even if he wanted to, isn’t that right Jack-Jack?”  Again, Jack attempted to hide his face from the world in Jamie’s shoulder.  “I think Jack-Jack likes his diapers and everything that comes with them.”  Jack had to resist the urge to pop the pacifier back into his mouth and calm down.

Oblivious or not caring about the plight of a perceived toddler, the cashier replied with, “Well I’ve always heard that boys are harder to potty train than girls.”

“Oh you have no idea,” the woman holding Jack chuckled darkly.  “At this rate I don’t think he’ll ever get out of diapers.”  The heat radiating off of Jack’s face could have lit a fire under the right conditions.  “But I don’t mind,” Jamie continued as she began rubbing his back, “I’d change his Pampers everyday if I had to.”

“The things love makes us do for our little ones,” the cashier sighed.

Jamie stopped rubbing her man-baby’s back.  “Love?” she echoed the sentiment.  “Perhaps.”

“Um…okay.”

Jack bounced a bit as Jamie adjusted him in her arms for the first time since stepping out on to the street that morning.  They stepped out of line and headed straight for the aforementioned bathrooms.  All the serotonin in his brain couldn’t make Jack’s heart not skip a beat when Jamie opened the door to the women’s room and took him inside.  The pair made a beeline for the handicapped stall in the back.

Jamie seemed to consider the changing table on the wall before seeming to decide against it and setting Jack down on the floor, his diaper squishing beneath his weight.  “Not enough room,” his captor explained.  “It could hold your weight at present, but there would be no room.” She dug around in his…her…the diaper bag and pulled out what could only have been a plastic changing mat; unfolding it on the ground before moving Jack over to it and laying it down.

Jack pouted there on the ground.  Admittedly, there were some benefits to this arrangement, but Jamie was taking on an exhibitionist bent today that was causing him no end of embarrassment. “The hell was that about?”  Jack asked, while his so-called Mommy unbuttoned the leggings of his denim shortalls.

“Hush, little one,” Jamie didn’t even look up as she shimmied the bottom up past the babied man’s bellybutton.  “The subliminal broadcaster only changes perception of who is speaking, not what is said.”

A devilish thought crept into the young man’s mind. “Oh,” his voice echoed off of the tiled walls, “So they’ll hear a little kid saying fuck or shit or-“ a sharp smack across the back of his thighs was his reward.  “OW!”

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby is quiet and still while she changes his diaper,” Jamie recited the command phrase.  Jack immediately quieted and went limp; the choice ripped away from him.  There was no resisting her when she said that phrase. “Such a shame,” Jamie whispered teasingly.  “I was going to let you make cummies again before I changed you, but you had to be a naughty baby.”  The feeling of her hot breath on his ear made him tingle all over regardless.  As much as he protested, as much as he struggled, as much as he wanted to hate her; part of him really did enjoy this…this…whatever it was.

His eyes wandered over to the diaper bag as Jamie rummaged around in it, taking out a regular pack of wipes and an adult sized Pampers.  He followed Jamie’s expertly manicured nails as they reached for the front of his sodden diaper, the sound of Velcro ripping from cloth filling the otherwise empty restroom.  His manhood shivered with anticipation and cold as she pulled the front of the diaper open, an intense feeling building up inside him and then waning with the blood in his cock as her dainty hands began to wipe him down with cold moist baby wipes.

Something about this ritual, this daily occurrence, Jack realized, was becoming far more important to him- far more exciting- than just the changing of soiled undergarments.  There was a certain intimacy to it that Jack was appreciating in more than one aspect, even if he could never bring himself to admit it.  He closed his eyes as Mommy, with precision born from years of practice -as if she really had been changing his diapers for years-slipped her arm behind his knees and lifted his legs and rump ceilingward.  He felt, more than witnessed, the wet used diaper slipped out from underneath him, and the cold wipe.  His bare rump was on the plastic changing mat for just a moment as his caregiver-captor balled up the used diaper and unfolded the fresh one.  As his legs went back into the air, Jamie quickly sliding the new Pampers under his bum, the know-it-all part of his psyche wondered what the big rush was.  He already knew from personal experience that he was unable to urinate until the diaper was fastened; it wasn’t like he was going to have an “accident” if Jamie didn’t get the diaper fastened on quickly enough.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at Jamie’s audible sigh of relief once the dry padding was back on him and his pants buttoned back up.  “Let’s go get our breakfast,” Jamie said after she’d packed the changing mat back into the diaper bag and lifted her paramour back off the bathroom floor.

Just as they were exiting, the bathroom door opened in on them, Jack’s mommy paused her stride and turned her head, as if examining the tile of the bathroom wall.  The woman who shuffled back, did the same…but why was she trying to avoid eye contact?  Jamie, sure.  She didn’t want to be recognized for reasons that were obvious to both of them.  Why was bathroom chick so shy?  Jack looked back as he was carried out and caught sight of the woman- not much older than either of them with mousy brown hair and glasses- doing the same.  There was a look of embarrassment in the woman’s eye, and not for her; but for him.

She knew!  Whoever she was, she knew!

“Jamie…” Jack whispered, now able to speak since the diaper change was over.  “Jamie…something’s wrong.”

“I just changed you,” was the only reply he got, as his mad scientist Mommy bobbed and weaved through the people at McDonalds and up to the receiving counter.  “Sorry,” she said.  “Diaper emergency.”  The tray was already ready and prepped for her.  With one hand, she held Jack, and the other the tray with the sub-par breakfast on it.

Jack was too frustrated to be embarrassed.  “Seriously,” his whispered in her ear.  “Something is wrong.”  The clack of a tray being set down at an empty booth was the only reply he got before being sat down and shoved to the side; the wall to his right and Jamie to his left.  “Why won’t you listen to me?”

“Oh you’re no fun,” Jamie waved off his concerns.  “You’re just being paranoid.”

“I’m not being paranoid,” Jack hissed, trying not to make a scene, as Jamie cut up his pancakes with a plastic knife.  “The lady in the bathroom recognized me.  Your…your whatever thing in my pacifier isn’t working.  She looked at me.  Not a ‘baby,’ me.”

Jamie took a long drag of her smoothie, straw already helpfully inserted by a McDonald’s employee while they were at the bathroom.  “But you are a baby, honey.”

“You know what I mean.”

Unconcerned, and obviously enjoying this, Jamie ripped open the top of the syrup cup and drizzled it over Jack’s pancakes before digging into her parfait.  “You’re just mad that I found a way to take you out in public like this.”  Jack stared down at the pancakes, sulking.  “Do you want me to feed you?” Jamie asked.  “I thought eating some big kid food and feeding yourself might be a nice treat for you.  There’s always other options.”  Jack glared at Jamie a moment before finally snatching a plastic fork up from the tray, and began scooping the bland flapjacks and too-sweet syrup into his mouth.  Between bites he kept shooting nervous glances towards the ladies’ room.

“Still?” Jamie sighed, sipping on her smoothie.  “Fine,” she said, digging into her coat pocket and pulling out the compact computer.   She still had that?  He hadn’t seen her tinker with that gadget in days. “If it will make you feel better that we’re not in any danger, I’ll do some calculations.”

He watched as Jamie’s dainty fingers poked at the screen, her eyes, addict’s eyes, looked at the screen, as lights flashed; waiting for the final result.

BUZZ!

Jamie looked up from her tiny tablet, noticeably paler.  She wasn’t just a gambler now, as she had been a few days ago. She was a gambler that had just blown the mortgage on a game of roulette. Whatever that little computer of hers told her, it wasn’t good.  “We have to get out of here,” she said, any and all calm evaporating from her in an instant.  Jack thought darkly that maybe she needed the pacifier.  “NOW!”

The bathroom door opened, and out walked the lady that Jack had seen.  She made a beeline for the booth where they were sitting, taking up a position so that Jamie was blocked in.

“Miranda?!” Jamie asked, “What are you doing here?”
Miranda?  Miranda!  Of course!  This was the same woman who had accompanied the general during Jamie’s power play a few days ago.  This was the woman whom Jamie actually respected as almost as smart as her.  That explained the look of disgust and embarrassment on her face when Jack made eye contact with her in the bathroom.  The thing clipped to his shirt broadcast a signal so that people who looked at Jack saw a small child; but only if they didn’t already know who they were looking at. Miranda had already seen Jack, dressed up as a baby no less, and therefore still saw him as a grown man.

Jack riding on Jamie’s hip had given them away.  Anyone who knew who he was would obviously know who was carrying them if they thought for half a minute…or hid in the bathroom. What was another genius scientist doing here at McDonald’s?

Both of them got their answer soon enough.  The thirty-something woman leaned in, and Jack heard her whisper, “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby wears her diaper.”

[Sarah Penguin]

[DiaperBoy37]

Oh no!

[Personalias]

Things Fall Apart.

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby wears her diaper.”

Jamie Vasquez had heard that phrase before- once upon a time she’d decided to experiment with girls…literally- but she’d never heard that particular phrase said to her.  The mad genius turned to the source of the voice.  Mousy brown hair framed the woman’s face a little too symmetrically- almost like a square cut wig.  Her eyes, an almost identical hue of brown framed by thick black rimmed glasses, were possessed by an almost burning intensity.  Her lips, thin and straight; her jaw set, like a predator readying itself to pounce.

Miranda:  General Smother’s scientific consigliere;  competitor in the scientific community;  almost (or at least as close as a normal person could get) as smart as Jamie herself.  Here?  Now?  Why?  And why was she using the Dominance nanites’ command phrase?

She didn’t have time to ask these questions, but her answers came soon enough.  Jamie’s lips hadn’t even fully parted when a shudder ran through her body, causing her to lightly seize; not enough to draw attention to herself- it could easily have been mistaken for a sudden chill, like when someone walks over your grave.  Jamie knew the truth, though.

As if in confirmation, she felt a flash of warm, sticky wetness spread across her pants.  It didn’t stay confined to her pants for long, however.  Hot urine spilled out between the fibers of her underwear and jeans, the garments doing little to absorb or wick away the wetness and into the back off her trench coat. A small puddle formed between her legs, however briefly, before the flood became too much for her seat to contain, and, guided by the tail of the trench coat, began to spill over into a little puddle around her feet.

Jack looked on in confusion, his hand probing his crotch as if he expected to feel his own diaper grow wet. “Mommy?!” his bewildered, questioning plea came.

Dominance.

Nanites.

How?

When?

Miranda, still a breath’s distance away from her asked. “Was it a good smoothie, Jamie?  Nothing off about the taste?”  Jamie stopped breathing for a moment.  That bitch!  A final spurt of pee from between her legs punctuated Jamie’s outrage.  “Didn’t anybody teach you not to leave your food unattended?”

“You bi-!”

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby finishes her smoothie.”  Jamie’s hands shot out and brought the wax paper cup to her lips, and she began drinking down the spiked fast food beverage.  “It doesn’t hurt to finish your nanites, does it?”

Thirty years to reverse engineer my nanites my ass!  Jamie thought bitterly as she chugged the thick, fruity sludge down.  Around them, the patrons of McDonalds went about their daily hustle and bustle, oblivious to what was going on.  Things were quiet now, and unless her puddle of piss expanded enough so that someone might slip, no one was going to notice; not in time, anyways.  Jamie Vasquez, genius inventor and billionaire, was being held captive in a puddle of her own urine by some government stooge.  Screaming silently for help, her eyes begged Jack to do what she couldn’t: to make a scene, to shout, to yell, to do something. Jack’s pacifier was emitting a subliminal frequency so that most if not all of the patrons would see him as a baby, and a baby screaming bloody murder could be good for drawing attention.

Instead, her diapered man-child stared at her in horror, scooting away from Jamie and pushing himself against the wall of their booth, lest her own liquid refuse spread all over his pretty shortalls.  He’d been pissing his own pants for weeks, and now he was freaked out by her pee?  Useless!

“I know we’ve never been what you would call friends,” Miranda whispered, her tone arrogant and gloating, “but please know this isn’t personal.” Without even waiting for her to fully finish the smoothie, Miranda removed Jamie’s head scarf and sunglasses, undressing her as if she were a baby; or more aptly, little more than a doll. Everyone who wanted to could see her blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and perfect bone structure.  Her rival scientist- whom she hadn’t even considered a true rival- stood up and in a loud voice yelled, “HELP!  SOMEONE CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! I THINK THIS WOMAN IS HAVING A STROKE!”  The entire room froze and stared at them.  Some even continued eating their flash fried hash browns and breakfast burgers, only now they were politely looking at the floor.  Kick over an anthill and every member of the colony scurried and scattered to repair the damage and save lives.  Shout out “help” in a public place, and everyone freezes.  And humans thought they were the superior species.  In a hoarse, snickering, whisper, Miranda triggered the nanites flooding Jamie’s system.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby pretends she had a stroke.”

The cup, now empty save for a reddish pink residue on the inside, dropped from Jamie’s hands.  Her right eye began to twitch, her right arm went limp, and her mouth cartoonishly drooped in a harlequin half-frown.  She wasn’t having a stroke, but to any onlooker with nothing but a glance and a half-hour television medical drama under their belt it would do the trick.  Drool began pooling at the corner of her mouth and dripping out onto the corner of her chin.

Is this what I’ve been doing to people?  She thought.  This is so much worse than I imagined.  I’m watching my own life fall apart in front of me and all I can do is go along with it.  This isn’t babyish.  This isn’t cute.  This is just forced helplessness.  In the silence of the room, the sizzle of the grill was drowned out by the pounding of her own heart.  I’ve been doing it wrong.  That’s why it never worked the way I needed it too.  I’ve been doing it all wrong.

Still in control of her eyes, if only barely, she looked to Jack.  Her boy toy was looking around, his breathing becoming faster and louder into a huff-and-puff panic.  Jack…get me out of here.  Please! Do something! Where was the man of action that had saved her from her malfunctioning Nanny-robot?  Had she fucked that man right out of him?  Why wasn’t he doing something?!

A big man, close to six and half feet tall stood up from the crowd. “I’ve called nine-one-one,” he said.  “An ambulance is on its way.”  There was actually a smattering of applause, at this.  People were taking out their cell phones and holding them up, recording this little melodrama.  This…this was worse than nothing.  These people were professional bystanders; recording Jamie’s capture to post on their Facebook pages.

Recording!  People were recording this!  It wouldn’t take long for the internet to figure out who she was.  She was famous enough that the whole world would know she was here sitting in a puddle of her own pee, twitching like a marionette that just had half of its strings cut.

JAMIE VASQUEZ, FOUNDER OF INFINITECH HAS STROKE IN MCDONALD’S AS MYSTERY BABY LOOKS ON  The headlines and clickbait articles online would proclaim.  Even if she somehow got out of this, she knew, she’d be ruined.  Everyone knew she wasn’t a mother.  The questions about her health would soon give way to “Who was the baby?” and child trafficking accusations and half a dozen other crackpot theories.  Stock in Infinitech would plummet….all because she wanted to take her baby boyfriend out in public.

  Except it wouldn’t be a baby on camera, would it?  Right now, while under the influence of the subliminal broadcaster implanted in the button of his pacifier, people were seeing Jack as a toddler in shortalls, overwhelmed by his mommy having a stroke.  They might even see the same thing if they replayed the videos on their phone while within the subliminal broadcaster’s radius of influence.  But once they got home?  Once total strangers saw the video, uninfluenced by her inventions, they’d see Jack as he really was, a grown man with a noticeable padded bulge around his waist, and a pacifier dangling from his neck.

That’s why Jack was frozen in place.  The eyes of the world were on him and he knew it, too.  His psychological evaluation based on observations and calculations on her little tablet had said he’d be particularly pliable in public, that for all his bravado, he feared public embarrassment to an almost phobic degree. That had been a factor in consideration for “adopting” him; she wanted a little boy she could take outside without him making a scene.

Looks like I got my wish, she thought, in the worst possible way.

Jack blinked, stupidly.  He was a trapped chihuaha; shivering, fragile and in need of a hug and a tiny sweater despite the ninety-eight degree weather.  If the nanites hadn’t made him all but incontinent, it looked like he’d be ready to use his diaper regardless.

The man who had announced his call to 911 to applause and cheering briskly walked up to the trio at the booth.  He wore a baggy gray sweat suit; the better- Jamie quickly deduced- to conceal a muscular form.  While not a buzz cut, his dark black hair was so precisely groomed that anyone might guess he was in the military.  “Our ambulance is on the way, sir,” he spoke softly and respectfully to the woman with mousy brown hair who held Jamie prisoner.

“Good,” she nodded quietly.  Then a little louder, “I have no idea who this is.  Will you help ride with her in the ambulance?”

“Yeah,” the soldier continued play-acting. “I’ve already texted my boss.  I’ll be in late for work.  You want me to take over or would you like to come with?”

There was a look of confusion on Miranda’s face.  She frowned and shot the muscular man a look of warning.  Evidently, soldier-boy was going off script.  “No, I’ll come, too.  I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight unless I knew this lady was safe.”

The air was pierced with the shrill cry of sirens as an ambulance pulled outside, the screeching of tires on asphalt punctuating its arrival as the blaring horns were cut.  Quickly, almost too quickly, a pair of EMT’s came out with a gurney.  “Who had the stroke?”

“Over here,” Miranda waved them over.  The customers parted as the gurney was wheeled down the aisle.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby gets onto the gurney without a fuss.” The words were hissed into Jamie’s ear, and her body obeyed.

“This way, ma’am,” the EMT’s guided her onto the gurney. “Easy there. We’ve got you.” Drenched from her crotch down, her shoes dripping, her legs starting to get cold as urine mixed with open air, Jamie got onto the gurney and laid still while she was secured to the moving bed.  The mob of cellphones rocketed ceiling ward, people were standing on chairs, now; trying to record her capture and misery from the best angle possible.

From her spot on the gurney, Jamie watched helplessly as Miranda bent over and picked up the diaper bag from off the floor, just narrowly saving it from the puddle of piss that had spread under Jamie’s feet.  “Come to think of it, this might come in handy.”

“What about the kid?” the soldier in the sweatshirt thumbed to Jack.

Miranda’s face twisted into an expression of pure puzzlement.  “What kid?  That’s not a-…” she stopped herself.  Through her twitching, distorted, fake-stroke-impaired vision, Jamie saw Miranda shoot her a knowing look and a sly smile.  There was a look of admiration and even envy in the other scientists’ eyes.  “Well that explains something…” the lesser woman muttered, more to herself than to anyone else.

She pointed a finger at Jack, his feet now scrambled beneath him; shoulders twisted in a scowling, fearful, defensive posture.  He was Gollum if Andy Serkis had been into ageplay.   “You…” Miranda began, causing Jack to flinch at the very word.  Then she pointed at the juice box, amber liquid still dripping from the straw.  “How’s the juice?”

What? 

“What?” Jack seemed as puzzled as Jamie.

“How’s the juice?”  Miranda repeated.

“Good…”

“Are you going to be good?”

“Uh…yeah.  Sure.”

“Not gonna tell anyone anything?”

“No ma’am.”

“Hmmm…I believe you.”

Jack’s sigh was audible.

“But just in case…bye bye big boy.”

Just like with Jackson before him, and Jim, and John, and all the other babies she’d grown weary of but lacked the trust in them to keep her secrets, Jack’s body shook with tremors, his eyes swirling about wildly, looking for escape from the oncoming doom; a fate arguably worse than death as most every neuron, every connection to every skill and bit of information he ever had was wiped clean-reducing him to little more than a newborn.

His juice had been spiked too, evidently, or swapped when Jamie’d been changing him in the bathroom.

Jack’s body went limp, flopping sidewise over onto the counter, his eyes blank and expressionless.  It was back to square one for poor little Jack Grainger.  It took him a lifetime to build up what little he knew, and he likely would never build it up to that level again.  Even in her best subjects, Jamie knew they might mature to toddler level over the course of a decade, and not get much further; and that was if they were well cared for by an attentive adult overseeing them.

For the first time in her life, Jamie felt an incredible sense of loss up as her latest little one had been regressed all the way down past the point of no return.  The sides of her face burned as tears dribbled past her eyes and rand down onto the gurney.  He was ruined.  Everything that he was and could have been- slave, toy, forever-child, companion, lover- gone in an instant.

The world began moving with gurney, as the EMT’s wheeled her out. “Leave him,” Jamie’s captor told her accomplice in the sweat suit.  Ceiling gave way to open sky as Jamie was wheeled out.

 How do I get out of this?  She’s using the command phrase for everything. Not even giving me a chance to struggle or make an escape.  Miranda wasn’t about the struggle, evidently.  For Jamie it had been more pleasure than business.  Miranda was on a mission, though, and was being thorough.

“Hey,” a voice called out from the crowd.  “What about the baby?”

“He’s not hers.”  Miranda called back before following the gurney outside onto the streets.  There was the briefest pause as the gurney made its way into the ambulance, and Jamie found herself looking up at a gray steel ceiling.

Not even ten seconds later, two EMTs, the muscular man in gray sweats, and Miranda were looking down on her, the doors closed, the sirens blaring and they were moving.  “Nicely done, gentlemen.” Miranda looked to her team.

“Sir,” they said and nodded in unison.

Miranda looked down at Jamie and regarded her for a moment.  “Don’t worry.  You’re going to be fine, Jamie.  I’ve only been authorized to use the first of your nanite doses on you.  We need you coherent enough so that we can make use of that mind of yours.”  She looked to one of EMT’s.  “Get her clothes off.”

Jamies clothes were being cut off with surgical scissors, easily a thousand dollars’ worth of garments were being torn up and disposed of like so much garbage.

“How?” Jamie found her voice, now that the command had been satisfied.  “You said you were thirty years away from being able to-“

“I was yes,” Miranda interrupted, “but then something clicked. Your nanite design is counter-intuitive, I’ll admit, but it’s a bit like those old Magic Eye posters: once you find the hidden picture, you can’t not see it.”

“You’re not smart enough to figure it out that fast.”  This wasn’t boast as far as Jamie was concerned.  This was fact.

Miranda shrugged, a flash of guilt crossing her face; not the guilt of a kidnapper, but the shame of a kid who cheated on a test and got caught. “We don’t normally collude with foreign operatives, but the rewards outweighed the risks. And if I’m being honest,” she continued,  “it’s cheaper just to conscript you into making weapons for us instead of having to pay you.”

“China?”

“Not important.  We have you now.  You’re secure.”  Miranda looked up to the soldier who had been play-acting with her.  “Speaking of secure,” she ordered the man, “diaper her.”

“Sir?”

“Get a diaper out of that bag,” a sharpened nail pointed down to the diaper bag she had brought into the ambulance with her, “and put it on her.”

“Yes, sir.”  The burly man began digging around in baby blue fold-over bag and took out a large white rectangle, unfolding it over in his hands.  “Holy shit!  This looks like what my kid wears, but it’s huge!”

“Yes,” Miranda agreed dryly.  “Miss Vasquez has a thing for big babies.  Don’t know why, don’t care.  But almost all of her inventions are geared with that particular fetish in mind.”  The other scientist considered Jamie for a moment.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby helps get her diaper on.”  Miranda loosened the restraints on Jamie’s legs and hips and Jamie thrust them up so the big Pampers could be slid under her bottom; only coming down when the diaper was properly positioned.  The soldier diapering Jamie gave his superior a strange look.  “Command phrase,” she explained.

Not again.  Not again. Jamie was screaming inside her own mind.  This isn’t fair.  This isn’t fair.  I’m the one supposed to be changing diapers, not the one wearing them!

Of course,” Miranda continued, “we’ve only been able to replicate what she’s designed, so we’re stuck to certain parameters for the time being.”  The front of the diaper was drawn up between Jamie’s legs, the sides closing neatly around her, the back half overlapping onto the front, as large Velcro tabs were secured over pastel portraits of Bert and Ernie.  “She’s going to need those.”

The diaper fastened on, the dark haired thug took his seat back down on the moving vehicle.  Jamie wondered idly how long she could avoid thinking of pissing herself before the nanites forced the issue.  In answer, a tiny trickle, barely a squirt, leaked into her new diaper; quickly absorbed, wicked away, and all but forgotten.   “So were these for her, or that kid we left?”

“That wasn’t a child.  That was Jamie’s latest…and last…human experiment.”

“All due respect sir, that looked like a kid.  We just left a kid without his mother.”  The two EMT’s in the back of the ambulance looked distinctly uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading.

Miranda leveled her gaze down at her diapered prisoner.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby explains why her boyfriend looked like a baby to these men.”
Nothing.  Jamie was silent.  The nanites weren’t complex enough to coax information out of a subject, just control motor behavior in the short term.  Why didn’t they know that?  This sort of thing is what happened when you give an assault rifle to a chimpanzee.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Jamie said, coldly.

The other scientist frowned.  “Clearly we’ve still. got a couple of bugs to work out.”

“Clearly.”

The normally mousy woman leaned forward and held Jamie’s chin in the palm of her chin.  “You can be smug, if you’d like, but this how your story ends, princess.  You’re going to go missing. People will find out what you did to that boy.  We’ll make sure they find out about the other boys, too, and no one will bother to go looking for you.”

Vasquez filled to the brim with anger. “You did that to Jack.  Not me.  I’ve done what I had to do.  Objectively, I’m not a good person.  But you ruined Jack.  Not me.”

A cocky smirk played across Miranda’s lips. “With you as his “Mommy”, he’s better off as a catatonic blob.”  A splash of spit onto the frames of her glasses was her reward.  Miranda wiped the spit off her face, then leaned back and called to the ambulance driver.  “How much longer?”

“A while yet before we’re out of the city limits,” the driver shouted back.  “If we were going to an actual hospital, we’d be there by now.  But we’ve got heavy traffic, here; we can still only move so fast to the black site without drawing-”

Thump-Thump.

There was a knocking at the back of the ambulance doors, as if something had just been chucked at the back of them   But they were moving.  Even if things were slow going, bobbing and weaving through difficult and thick traffic, they had to be going at least thirty miles an hour or so on average.
“See what it is,” Miranda ordered.  The soldier reached into the back of his sweatpants and drew out a pistol, inching towards the doors.  From her position, strapped down to the gurney, Jamie couldn’t see what was happening as much as feel and hear it.  From everything she heard and felt though, all hell broke loose an instant later.

Cars honked manically, beeping in protest and panic.  The door to the ambulance opened, just a crack for less than a second before being ripped open, everyone inside the ambulance shouting in surprise.  The soldier’s burbling, spitting grunts of shock and disbelief.  “A baby?!”

But above the din of the open road behind them and the wailing siren, four words rang out.

“BYE BYE BIG BOY!”

There was a thud as the soldier fell convulsing to the floor, startled shocked gasps and cries of “a baby?”, then…there was open sky.

Jamie shrieked as the gurney was yanked out of the ambulance, the few parts of her body left unsecured shaking and flailing in terror as black tar street and white guidelines on the ground whizzed by; her skin, naked save for the giant diaper she was wearing, engulfed by the wind.

Then, the world still whizzing by as hands quickly and nimbly unbuckled her, the face of her rescuer came into view, grinning wildly.

“JACK?!”

Her baby boy, clad in denim shortalls, pacifier still dangling from his collar, was smiling down at her, freeing her from her restraints….and he was pushing the careening gurney through oncoming traffic.   The blares of horns and screeching of rubber on asphalt accompanied.  Without further hesitation, Jamie began wriggling out and doing the best she could to help free herself.

The last of her restraints undone, Jamie leaned into Jack’s arms, and like something out of a Superhero film, they leaped over an oncoming car, missing it by mere inches.  Jamie shook with a thud as Jack landed on the ground and quickly zig zagged through the traffic onto the side of the road.  They paused for only a moment before Jack, still cradling her in his arms, started running; the wind enveloping them and pushing against her as if he were running as fast as a small motorbike, zipping along the sidewalks and through the alleyways.

“Hey, Mommy.” Jack panted, his face covered in sweat.  “Miss me?”

“How…?”

He smirked.  “Don’t worry about it.  You’re just a Mommy.  It’s too complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

***********************************************************************************

Things Come Together.

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby wears her diaper.”

Jack Grainger had never heard that phrase before.  He’d heard similar command phrases, addressed to him, but it had always been “wears his diaper”, “wets his diaper,” “makes cummies in his diapers.” Jamie had been very clear; he was her baby boy.  A small, frightened animal part of his brain wondered briefly if this bit of theater, with the scientist from the other day coming around and issuing the command phrase, was the next step in Jamie’s never-ending mind games and conditioning.  A mental image flashed across his mind of him wearing a frilly pink dress, his hair forced to grow out, with lacy ribbons tying it all together into pig tails; a bulging diaper peeking out from under the hem of the dress.  The woman definitely took some form of satisfaction in humiliating him, so he wouldn’t put it past her.

Oddly enough, though, nothing happened.  His diaper was still dry, and no pre-programmed childish behaviors were forced upon him.  Jamie’s nanites and commands tended to be exact and precise.  So either Jamie was losing her touch…or the command wasn’t directed at him.

Jack looked on as his captor-and-caregiver turned to face the woman with the square banged, mousy brown hair and too thick black rimmed glasses standing next to their booth.  In the restroom, she had flashed Jack a look of knowing shock and confusion.  The lady had seen him a few days ago pretending to play on the floor in nothing but a diaper and a onesie.  The look of recognition had been instant and unmistakable.  But she wasn’t looking at Jack now, her eyes were focused solely on Jamie. Even though this woman’s eyes were a dull shade of brown, just like her hair, Jack recognized the look in them.

Determined.

Focused.

Hoping.

The same as Vasquez’s eyes whenever she looked at that little tablet gadget she always kept with her.  Gambler’s eyes.  Her lips thin and straight, her jaw set, this lady was the kid who had just lit a fire cracker and was watching the fuse burn down, waiting for the inevitable pop.

And what a fuse it was.  Jack wasn’t as smart as either of the two women in front of him. It was as if Jamie had watched every sci-fi movie and T.V. show ever made, and like a housewife who watches enough cooking show, said to herself, “Not bad…let’s try that at home.”  Thing was, she had succeeded where others just imagined success.  And the lady next to her, if Jamie was to be believed, wasn’t quite as smart as her, but was at least smart enough to keep up with a conversation.  It didn’t take a genius, though, to recognize Jamie’s signature nanite-reinforced command phrase coming from Miranda’s mouth.

Jack watched, in a mixture of horror and fascination, as instead of talking- instead of asking questions, or putting up her cool, in control exterior- Jamie visibly shuddered.  It wasn’t a full-on heart attack, or some born again believer shaking with the Holy spirit; more like a nasty thought that disturbed the person who thought it so much that it had to be physically expressed…or perhaps a sudden and unexpected (yet very potent) orgasm.

If it had stopped there, the man-baby might have thought that his Mistress Mommy had just thrown up in her mouth a little; her ego insulted and repulsed that someone had dared to throw her signature move in her face.  But it didn’t stop there.

His eyes scanned Jamie’s crotch, not in lust, but in complete morbid anticipation and curiosity.  Jack’s curiosity was quickly rewarded as urine gushed out from Jamie’s pants, puddling and pooling between her legs and seeping into her backside before washing up against the back of the plastic booth and puddling down the tails of her trench coat to make a tiny pond of piss on the McDonalds’s floor; her body quivering in shock the entire time.

So that’s what it looks like from the outside.

How was this happening though?  That command phrase only worked if there was Dominance nanites infesting you. There’s no way Jamie consumed her own poison unless…

Jack saw the strawberry banana smoothie on the table.

Tasteless.

Odorless.

Dissolves almost instantly.

Fast acting.

And thanks to Jack’s diaper change, Jamie’s smoothie had been left unattended in a crowded fast food joint for long enough so that anybody could have stirred in some powdered Dominance before they came back for their order.  The fact that Miranda was here wasn’t a coincidence either.

If Jamie was a target of something, they needed someone familiar with her; familiar with them; to confirm and get close enough to whisper the command phrase.  This was a setup.  This was a sting.  He’d walked into a similar trap just recently enough to recognize it when it was happening to someone else.  But what would happen to him?  Jack eyed the juice box on his serving tray beside the pancakes, noticing the tiniest of pinpricks next to the little breakable aluminum hole.  That couldn’t be a coincidence.

While the two women were staring at each other, Jamie in despair, the other woman in smug delight, Jack palmed the juice box, and mimed feeling at his own crotch, as if he too were afraid that he might wet himself, as he broke the tiny drinking straw free from the taped-on plastic wrapping and stuck it through the designated seal.

“Jamie?!” he said, doing his best to sound like a scared, bewildered little boy as he gave the box a tiny squeeze; a spurt of apple juice splashing to the floor, mingling with his captor’s urine.  He got a sideways glance from a completely mortified and terrified Jamie, but the other woman didn’t seem to pay him any mind.

The scientist that had accompanied the general, still painfully close, like the rapist in a prison shower scene asked his so-called Mommy, “Was it a good smoothie, Jamie?  Nothing off about the taste?”  He knew it!  “Didn’t anybody teach you not to leave your food unattended?”  Great; a know-it-all.  What was with these mad-scientist types and their monologuing? Did everyone with an IQ over 200 have a compulsion to explain themselves?  Jack was a bit of a know-it-all and a braggart himself, but at least he had waited till after he had done something to brag about it and blow it out of proportion.

Blind to the same smug, condescending attitude she projected, Jamie had tried to protest. “You bi-!”

“Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby finishes her smoothie,” the billionaire mad scientist was interrupted by her counterpart.  Ironically, minus a robot spanking, this is exactly the kind of thing Jamie had done to Jack when the nature of Jack’s new job had been revealed.  Jack slipped the apple juice box, back on the tray next to the half-eaten pancakes as Jamie’s hands robotically grabbed hold of the smoothie cup and brought it to her lips, guzzling down the rest of her own poison.  Jack guessed that she was having a panic attack inside her own head right now, if past experience was to be judged.  Miranda took a moment to rub it in.  “It doesn’t hurt to finish your nanites, does it?”

When did my life turn into a comic-book?  Jack wondered to himself, as Jamie was forced to gulp down a taste of her own medicine. Despite her little accident, and the raging hopes and fears going on inside of him, (Was this the end?  Was he finally free of this insanity? Or would he just be another loose end to tie up? Surely, they’d accounted for him), everything outside of that tight little knot in the booth of the McDonald’s was perfectly mundane and oblivious.  People ate their McGriddles and McMuffins, drinking coffee and tea and smoothies, completely unaware that nothing less than a kidnapping was going on right in front of them..

This was a key contrast, Jack analyzed, between the two women.  When Jamie made a move, she did everything she could think of to remain in control.  She’d taken Jack in her own office building, her own domain, tricked him into stupidly signing that wavier.  Even when taking him into public, there had been preparations on her end to keep herself, him, and others in control and relatively safe.  This, what Miranda was doing, reeked more of organized chaos, of a reckless chance taken because Jamie had slipped and given them an opening.

Jamie glanced over to him, her eyes wide and begging for help as she chugged the strawberry banana nanite blend.   Instead, the diapered slave stared back at her, feeling a kind of pity and revulsion- though the revulsion he directed at himself for feeling pity for her- as he scooted away from the puddle in her pants, pressing himself up against the near wall as if her excrement were battery acid.

Let this play out.  See where it goes.  Don’t tip your hand.  Don’t be noticed.  Don’t cause a scene just yet.  Let the crazies talk and tip their hands.

The diapered man’s ears strained to pick out the cocky, honey soaked whispers as Jamie’s rival leaned in. “I know we’ve never been what you would call friends, but please know this isn’t personal.”  Jack watched as Jamie’s meager disguise was daintily removed from her face, so that everyone could see her blonde hair, blue eyes and almost instantly recognizable face.  Jamie put up no struggle.  She couldn’t, not while her body was fulfilling a command. Like him, she had been reduced to little more than a living doll.

Jamie’s face exposed, Miranda stood up and in a volume and tone normally reserved for community theater shouted, “HELP!  SOMEONE CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! I THINK THIS WOMAN IS HAVING A STROKE!”  Predictably, no one did much of anything.  No questions.  No rushing to help.  Some people got on their phones and started filming, maybe a call to 911, but he guessed that was a big maybe.  People sucked, especially in a crisis.  By calling for “someone”, Miranda had really been calling for “no one.” 

Miranda leaned in, and whispered to Jack’s Mommy, “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby pretends she had a stroke.”   It was quiet, too quiet to really hear what was being said, but like the words to a favorite song played at a low volume, Jack was able to decipher the command all the same; if only because he had become so familiar with the lyrics and rhythm.

Jamie dropped the now empty cup and began doing a mime’s over exaggerated interpretation of a stroke.  It wasn’t going to win her any awards, but Jack would have guessed “stroke” had they been playing charades. The drool was a nice touch. Though he looked horrified on the outside, a dark part of Jack was happy that the shackle was on the other brainstem…damn what an apt but stupid sounding metaphor.

Doesn’t feel good, does it? Jack willed his thoughts into Jamie’s grey matter.  Not so fun when you’re the  widdle baby who has to do what Mommy wuvs, is it?  Seeing her in this kind of distress, though, for some reason Jack couldn’t put his finger on, brought him far less satisfaction than he had imagined when he had gone to bed in his crib night after night.  Something like this had been a literal dream come true, and he felt a kind of shame in himself for dreaming it in the first place.  The fuck was wrong with him?  This was likely as close to revenge as he could get; cold or hot, he should quietly gobbling this dish up.  He started panting lightly, nervously,

Despite the best efforts and intentions, Jack and Jamie’s eyes locked again, and for just a second a message was delivered.  She was calling to him.  Begging him.  Praying for him to rescue her, like he had done from her own malfunctioning automaton.  What could he do?  Miranda was no dummy. Even if he wanted to rescue her- which he wasn’t entirely sure he did- this new player clearly knew the command phrase to the nanites.  All the other super genius would need to do is change the command phrase from “he” to “she” and he’d be a puppet on the string too.  He lacked the element of surprise or the means of rescue.  Jamie was doomed.  All Jack could do was hope not to be noticed and hope to get out of this alive and with a clean diaper.

Some mook, fresh off the street in a sweat shirt lacking any actual sweat stood up an announced “I’ve called nine-one-one.  An ambulance is on its way.”  Dinner theater and the feeling of diffused responsibility combined and manifested as some people clapped and cheered, relieved that they didn’t have to be the everyday heroes.  Instead, they took out their phones and pressed record, so they could tell their friends and relatives that they were there when some woman had a stroke and a stranger leaped into action to save her.

Recording!  People were recording this!  Didn’t Jamie say that whatever magic-science bullshit she had shoved into his pacifier didn’t work on cameras?  People were going to look at their phones and realize that he was much much too big for pacifiers and he was far too old to be dressed so casually…and was that a diaper under his overalls?

The wave of panic that had been looming all morning welled up into a tsunami, but the pacifier he’d been sucking on all morning had done its job too well.  His serotonin soaked brain was far too calm.  Instead, he rationally looked at the situation, and connected dots he hadn’t seen right then.

Jamie would be recognized and identified.

People would “know” she’d had a stroke, and they’d realize that the baby with her in the booth where she’d pissed herself was not a baby.  She was a known genius inventor though, and accepted eccentric to boot. Much of this could be swept under the rug as a publicity stunt, if she kept her cool.  What couldn’t be swept under the rug was Jack’s own involvement if she disappeared.  Too many questions.  Too many loose ends.  If she were kidnapped, he’d have to be dealt with too; one way or another.

Whatever Miranda intended to do with Jamie, Jack was not getting out of this a free man.  This was fact.

Thinks Grainger! THINK!

No options.  No way out.  Jack gathered his legs under him, hunkered into the booth, and blinked, legs gathered under him and hunkered down in the booth while his mind raced for a solution, finding none.  Had he been as smart as his captor, or even his captor’s captor, he might find a way to improvise, to escape and scurry away, or to turn the tables on the situation…but then again he’d probably be monologuing about it, too.  How telling was it that his greatest moment of triumph was bashing a robot upside the head with a giant high-chair?

Sweatshirt Guy walked up to their little gathering and quietly, and deferentially spoke, not to Jamie or Jack, but to the lady with the glasses.  “Our ambulance is on the way, sir.”  Fuck.  He was in on this little plan, too.  New player.  Motherfucker was big enough that he looked like he could bench press Jack.  Jack canceled his plan of “grab the tray and smack brown haired psycho bitch upside the head before she can say anything” and went back to the drawing board in his mind.

Miranda nodded to her henchman.  “Good,” she said.  Then a little louder so that the people in the cheap seats could hear, “I have no idea who this is.  Will you help ride with her in the ambulance?”

“Yeah,” the gorilla in sweats followed the script. “I’ve already texted my boss.    I’ll be in late for work.  You want me to take over or would you like to come with?”  Maybe it was the calming effect that had been imposed on him, but despite his terror, Jack groaned inwardly.

This kind of acting is what happens when you prioritize defense spending over the arts.

 “No, I’ll come, too.” A frowning Miranda enunciated. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight unless I knew this lady was safe.”  This was some bad acting.  This wasn’t even community theater bad.  This was cable access bad.  No. Worse.  This was “this is a porno, so why are we trying when people are gonna spank it anyways” bad.

Right on time, just long enough to make the unsuspecting people satisfied, the ambulance arrived, siren at full volume. A couple of EMT’s rushed into the restaurant with a gurney.  “Who had the stroke?”

Fingers pointed them over to a waving Miranda.  “Over here!”  No one blocked their passage.  Miranda leaned in close and whispered something to Jamie, though Jack couldn’t quite make it out.  As Jamie allowed herself to be moved and strapped down onto the wheeled stretcher, Jack had more than an inkling what was said.

“This way, ma’am. Easy there. We’ve got you.”  A chorus of disgusted ewes and childish giggles echoed through the otherwise silent scene.  Jamie had really done a number on her clothes. Pretty much everything from the waist down, not to mention her coat was absolutely ruined.  One of the onlookers held their nose as the smell of Jamie’s piss soaked pants spread around, mixing with the equally unappetizing smells of fast food sausage and egg.

A small taste of bile jumped up onto Jack’s tongue, not from the smell- he’d gotten used to that by now-  but from the way people had refused to put their phones away.  Some even stood on tables and chairs, hoping to get a better view of this woman’s humiliation and distress.  Yeah, Jack had grimly liked watching Jamie swallow her own bitter pill; but what reason did these people have to wallow in her humiliation?

Vultures.  Fucking Vultures.

Getting ready to go, Miranda bent over and picked up Jack’s…Jamie’s…whatever…picked up the diaper bag that they’d brought with them.  “Come to think of it, this might come in handy.”

 “What about the kid?” the mook thumbed over to Jack.   Jack froze.  FUCK!  For an instant, Jack had vainly hoped that they’d forget about him.  The EMT’s were clearly trying to hurry things along, and Jack had just been starting to hope he’d get left behind.  No such luck.

Miranda looked at Jack, really seeing him for the first time, and by the way her face twisted into a gnarled tree stump, she didn’t like what she saw.  “What kid? That’s not a…” then things clicked into place.  She knew that Jack wasn’t really a little boy, but she was the only one right this second.  She threw a glance towards her fellow psycho bitch strapped to the gurney, smiled like the kid who just got the dirty joke, and turned her eyes back to the man in the diaper and big baby clothes.  “Well that explains something…”

As Jack’s heart pounded erratically in his chest, Jamie’s kidnapper leveled a finger at him, “You…” she said.  Then her gaze shifted over to the juice box Jack had placed on the table, unconsumed but opened. A hint of hope and fear flickered inside of him.

Please don’t make me drink it.  Please don’t make me drink it. 

“How’s the juice?”

She had wanted him to drink the juice. More hope.  His gamble might just pay off.  Please don’t make me drink it.  Please….

“What?”

“How’s the juice?” she said again.

Please don’t make me drink it. Please, please, please don’t make me drink it.

“Good…”

“Are you going to be good?”

This is a setup.  Too good to be true. “Uh…yeah.  Sure.”

“Not gonna tell anyone anything?”

It’s a trap! It’s a trap!  Please don’t make me drink it.  “No ma’am.”

“Hmmm…I believe you.”

Jack’s sigh was audible.

“But just in case…bye bye big boy.”

Time stopped for Jack.  The intonation.  The finality. It was a command phrase of some sort.  Jack had heard enough of them lately to know one when he heard it.  Jack did the only thing he could; he faked it.  Like a man possessed he shook violently, making his eyes go all googly.  He didn’t do it enough to make it obvious he was throwing himself up against the wall, but he shook as if someone had shoved a giant vibrator up his ass and turned it to max.

Miranda watched with a smirk; the EMT’s stood by doing nothing (they were definitely on the payroll, too) the mook in the sweatshirt looked uncomfortably to the side.  They were buying it.  This was how you faked a stroke.

With finality, Jack went limp noodle on the side of the cover, his eyes staring blankly in the middle distance.  Just zone out.  Just zone out.  Lights are on, but nobody’s home.

Jack made direct eye contact as his would-be assailant looked him once over.  Please please please work.  Please buy it.  Without further ado, she left, leaving Jack to look at the gawking crowd gathering round as Jamie was.  “Leave him,” Jamie’s captor commanded.

It worked.  It worked!  Goddamnit, it worked!  He was almost free!  He’d bluffed his way to freedom!  He could disappear.  He could be his own man again.  He was written and off books!  He could sleep in his own bed tonight! He could sleep in a bed tonight, period!

“Hey,” a voice called out from the crowd.  “What about the baby?”

“He’s not hers.”  Miranda called back before following the gurney outside onto the streets; the rest of the crowd looking towards the departing ambulance.

The lady who had inquired to his, the so-called baby’s health, stepped out of the crowed and brushed his cheek with her hand.  She was your stereotypical McDonald’s fair.  A little chubby, strawberry blonde hair in a braid with a t-shirt that was a little-too tight to be flattering.  “Baby?” she coaxed.  “Sweetie, are you okay?”    Jack jumped at the touch…and went flying.

Flying.

Up over the booth, his feet clearing the plastic bench.  Cries of “What the…?!” rang out as Jack’s head scrapped the ceiling.  He was Spider-Man!  How was this even possible?

The shortalls, he realized.  Through whatever crazy mad-science Jamie had weaved into them, they had effectively made him lighter, allowing her to carry him as easily as if he were a one year old.  Just one minor detail Jamie hadn’t accounted for: he still had the musculature and strength of a full grown, reasonably in shape, young man.

All that strength, and almost nothing to weigh him down…and Jamie had considered this invention of hers a failure.  For a genius, she really lacked imagination.  Jack threw back his head laughed with complete, unrepentant glee.

Cackling like a maniac as he was, the crowd gave him a wide birth.  Some broke into prayer, afraid of the mad demon toddler before them.  He was free!  Finally free!  He took a step for the door, the sirens still going off in the distance, and heard the dry crinkle from his Pampers; his legs still slightly spread apart from the padding.  Well, maybe not quite free, not exactly.  Free of Jamie…yes.  Definitely.  Free of her Dominance?  Not quite.

He cast a look over his shoulder, the rest of the McDonald’s frozen in terror at his very presence.  No doubt as to why.  They were witnessing the impossible: A flying, cackling, acrobatic, baby.  Jamie’s gizmo, the thing she was always checking like an addict, had been left on the table.

Damn it.  Damn it.  Damn it.

He hadn’t even finished the thought, yet he knew what he was going to do.  He was going to save her.  Like it or not.  No one deserved to be put through this nightmare.  Not even her.  She had been coming around to that fact, herself, in her own limited way, thanks to him.  Besides, he fibbed to himself, he still needed her to undo the mess she’d made of his brain.  That was all.  That was the real reason.  He just didn’t want to be stuck in diapers for the rest of his life, constantly saying “Jamie” and it coming out “Mommy” to everybody else.

The giant diaper blared like static as he stepped back over and scooped Jamie’s little tablet up in the palm of his hand.  The juice box, still mostly full, caught his eye too: spiked with nanites, and loaded with a devastating command phrase that Jack now knew.  Yeah.  He was probably need that going to need that.

The baby-man slipped the tiny tablet into the bib pocket of his gravity defying shortalls and picked up the juice box as though it were a loaded gun.

The crowd parted for him, confused, and baffled; all eyes on him.  Jack shook his head and chided himself for what he was about to do. Embarrassing or not, this might be as close to a spotlight as he was going to get. “Hey,” he gave a wink at someone still disengaged enough to be holding a phone.  “Keep rolling.  You’re not gonna want to miss this.”

Stepping out of the McDonald’s, Jack closed his eyes, and listened for sirens. His head drifted to the right. “Here…we…go…”

A half a heart beat later, Jack Grainger was speeding down the street, passing and leaping over cars.  He was the Flash!  He was Spider-Man!  He was right out of a comic book!  It was like being on a people-mover, but on steroids. Every step sent him further and faster than humanly possible.  The world didn’t slow down, but each foot fall gave him the distance of eighteen to twenty.  He was literally moving faster than was humanly possible, the wind whipping by him, threatening to drown out his hearing as he moved past cars.

The cars weren’t much of an obstacle; they were all slowing down to let a certain ambulance pass.  If the thing had hit the open road, Jack had no doubt that he would have lost track of it, but this was big city traffic; and an ambulance trying to navigate these busy roads could still only move so fast without risking a collision.  It still had to bob and weave for the local dimwit that couldn’t pull over to the side fast enough, or the cluster of cars that wouldn’t or couldn’t make way.

White doors and blinking lights came into view.  Sweating and panting, Jack broke out into a full blown mad dash, his side stabbing, his gait being thrown off by his own underwear, and a sudden fear popping into his head as the ambulance rapidly magnified: what if he fell?  He’d be street pizza.  His skin would scrape right off his face onto the very pavement that he was leaping across.

Can’t turn back now.  Come too far.

With a final, bounding leap, Jack jumped onto the back bumper of the still speeding ambulance, his body bumping up against the back with a-

Thump-Thump.

Absentmindedly, Jack hoped that this was the right one.  How embarrassing would that be; to try and mount a half-assed rescue attempt on the wrong kidnapping vehicle?

The door opened, just a crack.  The would-be hero took that as the only opening he’d get.  In a blur he ripped open the door, and thrust the container of apple juice, straw first into the nearest person’s face.  It was the dude in the sweat suit- and he had a gun!  Yup, right ambulance.

His life flashing before his eyes, Jack Grainger saw his world coming to a sudden and violent end down the barrel of a gun.  “A baby?!” the man with the gun grunted, lowering his weapon in hesitation.  Without thinking, Jack squeezed the box, sending bright yellow liquid into the guy’s face, dripping into his eyes, and dribbling onto his lips.

Just one drop is all it takes.  At least Jack hoped that’s all it took.  He’d be shot if it took more.

 

“BYE BYE BIG BOY!”  The trigger phrase was screamed as if he were pulling the trigger of a gun, himself.  As far as Jack was concerned, he was pulling a trigger.  The big man fell to the ambulance floor, the EMT’s picking up his startled reprieve of “a baby”, while the big man shook and convulsed on the floor, a dark spot spreading on the crotch of his gray sweat pants.

His knuckles white with fright, Jack grabbed the gurney, dug his heels in, and jumped back.  Then, there was open sky. For a fraction of a second, Jack thought, This…this is how I die.  And then he didn’t.

The gurney’s wheels deployed as they hit the open air, sending the pair careening on the wheeled stretcher, with Jack riding on Jamie’s legs, like a demented bobsled, the pavement speeding by beneath them, and Jamie’s confused cries mixing with horns honking and the screeching of tires. A combination of instinct and dumb idea over took him, as he began loosening the straps on the gurney, their fates not yet safe or sealed.

Had his life not been in imminent danger, he might further appreciate how things had come full circle; with Jamie naked save for a giant Pampers.

“JACK?!” she screamed out, her terror temporarily tempered with the pure absurdity of their situation.  Some part of her own survival instinct must have kicked in, because she started struggling to undo her restraints and help him get her free.

The last of her restraints undone, Jamie leaned into Jack’s arms, and like something out of a Marvel film, they leapt overan oncoming car, missing it by inches.  Jamie shook with a thud as Jack landed on the ground and quickly zig zagged through the traffic onto the side of the road.  They paused for only a moment before, still cradling her in his arms, Jack started running, the wind enveloping them and pushing against them as if he were running as fast as a small motorbike, zipping along the sidewalks and through the alleyways.

“Hey, Jamie.” Jack panted, his face covered in sweat.  “Miss me?”

“How…?”

Jack smirked.    “Don’t worry about it.  You’re just a Mommy.  It’s too complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

Together Again

 

They leaned against a back-alley wall.  Him exhausted.  Her shivering.

“The anti-gravity matrix,” Jamie said numbly.  “It makes you effectively lighter so…”

“Yup…”

“The juice…?  Faked them out?”

“Yup…”

“Figured out the command phrase?”

“Yup…”

She smiled. “Clever baby.”  She tingled inside.  By the gods, if she weren’t in such deep shit, she’d be incredibly turned on.  It wasn’t just the heroics, or the adrenaline…this one was smarter than she’d ever given him credit for; and it made him more attractive than she could possibly describe.  A baby she could care for and hold a decent conversation with.  Someone who, in another lifetime could have been a friend. Her calculations had never predicted such a thing.

The feeling wasn’t reciprocated, evidently.  He glared at her. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”  There was a pregnant pause.  Best to let him speak his mind.  She owed him that much.  “I don’t want to be your baby doll anymore.  It’s not fair.  It’s not what I want. Not what I need.”

Jamie’s face sank along with her hopes.  “But-“

“We’re equals, or we’re nothing.  Fix me.”

“I can’t.”

Bent over, hands on his knees, he pointed at her.  “You’re fucked, too.  You’ve got Dominance in your system.  No way you don’t have an antidote somewhere.  I want it, too.”

Jamie crossed her arms and pouted a bit.  He had her, there.  “Fine.  I’ve got a place.  We just need to get there.”

Jack turned around, and motioned to his back.  “Hop on.  If you’re close enough, I think the shortalls will still work.”

“Fine,” Jamie sighed, “but it’s still going to be a walk.  We might need to stop for a break or two.”

“Whatever.”

Hours later, the old country estate towered over them; it’s pristine lawn and high fences behind them, it’s white veneer and columns having more in common with the plantations of the old South than some Yankee McMansion.

The sun was setting in the background.  Even at an enhanced, nearly weightless pace, it had been a distance; long off the beaten path.  Jamie insisted, rightly, that they avoid the main roads.  A guy in shortalls- Jack had unceremoniously ditched the pacifier on a busy New York street- and a pretty little blonde, naked save for a diaper, would likely attract the attention of passerby.  They couldn’t go to home.  General Smothers was likely staking out her apartment and the Infinitech home office, so there was no way they could do something as simple as get a change of clothes and call a cab.  As a result, they were at this giant doorstep; grungy, and sweaty, and tired- Jamie had been kind enough to insist that Jack rest and they walk some of the way-hoping that someone was home.

The door opened with a creak. An old woman, short and shriveled, even as far as short shriveled went, poked her head outside.  Her hair was white and had the consistency of a cotton ball that has been nearly torn apart, her wrinkles so deep that they looked like a topographical map.  Her gray eyes, nearly closed in the permanent squint of old age fell on Jamie and opened wide in surprise. “Jamie, what are you doing outside?  And you’re filthy.” Her hand reached out and grasped Jamie by the wrist.  “Into the tub with you, right now, baby girl.”

“Hey,” Jack objected.

The little crone regarded Jack for but a moment.  “I’m terribly sorry my simple, simple, daughter bothered you, sir.  Please don’t think anything of it.”

Jack was about to reply; to throw some kind of snarky comment, or complain, or something, when another voice entered the fray.

“Mommy?”

Everything stopped.  The door opened, and from behind it stepped a familiar figure.  Clothed in a frilly pink dress, hair in pigtails, her diaper poofing out from under the hem of the too-short skirt, she looked every bit Jack’s adult baby counterpart.  Her mouth glistened with drool, dripping down onto a matching pink bib.

“Oh…you’re that Jamie!” A blush came to the old woman’s face.  “I’m so sorry dear.  It’s just…the diaper…and I thought…well…”

Stunned and near the point of exhaustion, Jack’s knees buckled, his padded rear cushioning his fall.

Jamie stood up a little straighter, a quiet dignity overtaking her grungy and ridiculous form. She gestured to the pair in front of them: Old lady and giant toddler.  “Jack Grainger, let me introduce you to Gertrude; an old friend. And this…” she indicated the doppleganger in the pink dress… “Is this dimension’s Jamie.”

 

To be continued….

[DiaperBoy37]

Wow. Love your work and always will. I was hoping that Jack did something and he did. There's a lot more you can do with this story and I'd love to see it. 

[Personalias]

6 hours ago, DiaperBoy37 said:

Wow. Love your work and always will. I was hoping that Jack did something and he did. There's a lot more you can do with this story and I'd love to see it. 

Thank you?  This version of Jack was very interesting to write, and little by little it informed the Jamie character too.  

[JustinDB87]

Holy smokes! You know a story is great when you become invested into the characters themselves. For a brief moment I really thought Jack was done for and I was genuinely sad thinking that was his ending in the storyline...boy was I wrong lol. Your writing is something special. It’s just so good. Can’t wait to see what happens next!

[Sarah Penguin]

Dang I  want technomagical speed enhancing shortalls!   Though onesie would be cuter, sadly   Kind of surprised Jamie didn't include a turn off the nanites command after all the stuff going on   Or create anti-dominance nanites for herself as a preemptive move.

[Personalias]

Truth is stranger…

 

Jack sat there, in the giant bathtub across from Jamie, the two of them completely naked; the bubbles the only thing protecting what little remained of each other’s modesty.  Not that they hadn’t seen each other naked before, though the little old woman who kept peeking her head in to make sure they were okay was another matter.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else you need, Jamie?” The snowy haired woman poked her head in for what had to have been the fourth time since the water had started pouring into the tub.  The first time had been awkward, but arguably polite, when the little old lady (Gertrude) had come in and taken their sweat stained clothes and soaked diapers away.  Exhausted from their travel, and Jack feeling completely blindsided by the recent turn of events made him more willing to just hop in the tub and let the water boil away the aches.

Jamie looked over to Gertrude, her panicked expression from just a few hours ago completely gone and replaced by the brilliant control freak that Jack had grown all too familiar with.  “No, we’re fine, Gertrude.  My baby boy and I are just going to relax for a moment, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, that’s fine, Jamie, that’s fine,” she said as.  “I’ll send up Jamie…my Jamie…my baby girl… with a fresh batch of clothes for you two.”  Gertrude motioned toward Jack. “I assume he’ll need a diaper.”

Jamie blushed and giggled in the tub.  It was like she was suddenly a tween talking about her crush to her mother.  “Of course.  My widdle Jack-Jack couldn’t use the potty even if his life depended on it.”  Gertrude returned Jamie’s giggle, and wiggle walked out again.

“Neither can she!” Jack called after the little crone, causing Jamie’s to sit up in alarm.  “She needs diapers, too!”  Jack took some small pleasure in making his former captor squirm.

“Baby!” Jamie scolded.  “That was very ru-“

Jack interrupted her.  “I’m not your baby.  You’re not my mommy.  We’re equals, now, or did you forget?”  It was true.  At no time in their so-called relationship had they ever been more equal.  Both of them had been poisoned with the tiny little robots called Dominance that programmed behaviors into them better than a lifetime of hypnosis and classical conditioning could.  They both were functionally incontinent as a result, and it was a safe bet- Jack reasoned- that the trigger phrase of “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby…” held just as much power over her as it did him, now.  Hell, they were both equally naked in the tub, just now. Another first.  Normally, Jack was alone in being dressed, undressed, and changed; his own naked vulnerability contrasting with Jamie’s complete and total control.  Granted, he had seen her naked before when they had had sex, but that was always on her terms- and she was always on top.  “I’ve saved you from being turned into…” Jack paused, unsure of how else to phrase it; finally settling on the blunt unvarnished truth, “…me.  You owe me at least a little respect.”

Jamie sighed and pulled her knees up to her chest, cradling herself.  The tub was massive, big enough that they could both sit comfortably enough at opposite ends and never touch each other; yet Jamie was withdrawing into herself.  “All right, what do you want to know?”

It was at that time that yet another diapered woman stumbled into the bathroom. The distinct crinkle as she walked by bounced off the bathroom tiles in the ghostly quiet room.  It would have given her away that she was wearing, even if the so-called dress that she was wearing hadn’t stopped just above the top of the adult sized Pampers.  What was even more distinct and disturbing was that she had the same hair, the same eyes, and same face as Jack’s “Mommy”.

Her physique was a bit chubbier (but not unattractive, Jack thought, before scolding himself for checking out what amounted to a giant toddler), as if she didn’t put herself through a strict diet or rigorous exercise like Jamie surely did; but she was most definitely looked like Jamie.  They could have been twins.

His ex-captor’s twin bumbled in with the exaggerated waddling gate of a two-year-old that hadn’t transitioned to Pull-Ups, in her hand a stack of white rectangular pieces of cloth-like fabric with pastel stenciling.  The two refugees in the tub didn’t have any second guesses as to what Jamie’s other held.  They’d both seen enough of them to know. “Diapees,” Jamie’s doppelganger said, more to herself than to them.  “Diapees, diapees, diapees.  Diapeeeeeeeees.  Diapees.  Di-a-peeees!”  Both Jack and Jamie looked distinctly uncomfortable as the diapered woman babbled to herself.

“Jamie Vasquez!” Gertrude’s voice came roaring into the bathroom.  Jamie’s twin gasped and dropped the tiny stack of adult Pampers onto the tile floor, her back stiffening, and her eyes going wide with the fear that only a little kid had when being scolded by their mother.  Jack stole a look at the Jamie in the tub.  For a brief second, he saw his Jamie have the same reaction, afraid that she was being addressed.  The drooling girl really was Jamie Vasquez in toddler form.   “You leave those two alone,” Gertrude warned, “or it’s a spanking for you, little girl!”

“Mommy!” the toddlerized Jamie called out as she waddle-ran back out the door.  “Mommy! Mommy no! Mommy nooooo!”  As the big baby version of Jamie ran back out into the hallway, her ungraceful, flip flapping footsteps growing more distant, the two remaining (arguably) adults, looked back to each other, saying nothing.

The hot water becoming tepid, it was Jack who finally broke the silence. Questions? He had questions, all right.  Jack leaned forward, the bubbles coating his chest in a kind of white armor.  “Who? The fuck? Are you?”

Jamie- the real Jamie, not the baby one- blinked.  Once.  Twice. Then again.  Jack was reminded of the clicking noises Nanny had made when something didn’t quite jive with her programming.  “I’m Jamie Vasquez, of Earth Ninety-Seven.”

The hell did that mean?  Earth Ninety-Seven?  Who said that?  Just when Jamie had seemed to run out of ways to surprise and utterly confuse him, Jack found that she still had more crazy packed into that blonde skull of hers. There was an air of confession about the words, too, like she had just revealed some terrible secret about herself.  She might as well have been saying “I have herpes,” or some other deep dark secret might confess only when cornered; only this one didn’t make the slightest bit of sense.

“What the hell is an Earth Ninety-Seven?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the explanation.  “Is that another planet or something…wait, are you an alien?”  Jack leaned forward, a sense of anticipation overcoming him.

Jamie scoffed.  “What? No! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Then what?” Jack demanded to know.

“Umfer menshun,” Jamie mumbled.

“What?”

His former captor sank a little deeper into the bubbles. “Another dimension,” she said a bit more clearly once her mouth was obfuscated by suds.

Like a wine aficionado taking his first sip and considering the balance, length, depth, complexity, and finish, the adult baby boy pouted his lips and twisted them from side to side.   Finally, after much thought, Jack nodded, and said, “Okay.”

“Really?” Jamie was clearly taken aback by the ease in which Jack accepted this.  A bit of water spilled out of the tub as she sat up straighter.

Jack shrugged.  “I’ve seen so much weird shit since I signed that stupid contract.  I’ll buy it.  Disbelief suspended.”  He paused, thinking of another question.  Then he said, “Is that why you’re into so much uh…baby stuff?”

“Kinda.”

“Like, on Earth Ninety-Seven, is everybody into diapers and baby stuff, and the punishment and solution for everything is putting people into dia-?”

“Oh God, no!” Jamie interrupted. “That is literally the kind of place I’d avoid at all costs!”  Jamie started breathing harder and faster, her teeth gritted in anxiety.  Jack thought she was about to have a panic attack.  He stopped and let her compose herself.

“Then why…?” He gestured to the diapers on the floor.  “And why…” he pointed out the door, indicating Jamie’s diapered duplicate.

The brilliant scientist huffed through her nose, before gripping the sides of the giant claw-foot tub.  The water level lowered a little as she stood up, and, still covered in suds, stepped out of the tub and walked over to the nearby counter where she had placed the little tablet that she so obsessively examined every day with its pings and buzzes.  “There are an infinite number of parallel realities,” Jamie said as she walked back to the tub.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jack rolled his eyes.  “With different histories and societies and levels of technology, right?”  The brilliant scientist cocked an eyebrow, she opened her mouth as if to question him, but he beat her to it.  “What?” Jack said, grabbing onto the sides of the tub, and pulling himself up.  “I watch Sci-Fi movies.  I understand the basic concept.”  He stepped out of the tub, his modesty still mostly preserved by the bubbles that clung to his skin.   “What’s that have to do with you dressing me up like I’m your own personal cabbage patch kid?”

Jamie’s mouth twitched again as she apparently searched for the right words.  “Every world is different, but fundamentally the same.  Yes, there’s a world where Hitler won World War II, and there’s a world where green means stop and red means go; but the makeup of that world is the same.  There’s no Earth that has more gravity than any other, or where the sky is green and the grass is blue.”  Jamie took a deep, staggered breath.  “And in some cases, people’s fates are the same across universes.”

Jack did a doubletake and rattled his head as if he were about to fall asleep and Jamie’s words hadn’t quite registered.  “Excuse me?”

“Fate?” Jamie repeated herself as if she were worried she’d mispronounced a foreign word to a native speaker.  “Destiny?  Your future? Karma?  Pretty much the opposite of free will?  There are some people whose fates never change across the multiverse either.”

“That’s a thing?” Jack felt the color drain from his face. He had expected any number of revelations or lies from Jamie when he started this, but this was no lie.  Jamie never lied about her capabilities; Jack realized.

“It’s a thing.” Then Jamie added, “It’s not easy, and there’s a ton of variables that determine it, but it’s a thing.”

“So, you can predict the future?”

Jamie laughed softly, like Jack had just asked what happens the light in the refrigerator when you close the door.  “I mean, not in my head.  Even I’m not that smart.  But yeah,” she tapped the little tablet in her palm, “I’ve got an algorithm; a fate formula.”

Jack was in total awe.  That’s why she had those eyes when she stared at her little computer; those gambler’s eyes.  She was checking in on her future.  Suddenly, Jamie’s eccentricities and lack of common sense didn’t seem to matter anymore.  She didn’t need common sense if she could predict the future.  That must be how she became so rich in the first place. “So is everyone on your Earth super smart, or something?”

“Compared to this Earth?  Sure.” Jamie said. “I’m still easily the smartest person on my world though; just the gap is a bit smaller.”  Jack did his best to not look insulted.  Seemingly oblivious or not caring, Jamie went on. “Like I’m comparatively a Hawking, or a Neil deGrasse Tyson.”

The stack of diapers spilled out over the floor caught Jack’s eye.  “And you’ve been treating me like a baby because…?”

The brilliant billionaire deflated a bit and looked down at the diapers at their feet.  She shuddered.  “Fate,” she said.  “I’m trying to cheat fate.”

“Come again?”

Jamie closed her eyes, and spoke from recitation, as if she’d had this conversation far too many times than she was comfortable with admitting…even if she’d only had it with herself.  “Soon after I learned how to calculate fate, I also discovered and mathematically proved the existence of other universes.  Made sense, they were just variations in fate, really.  But some strands of fate throughout remained the same, no matter what universe.”

“Uh-huh.” Jack said dumbly.

“That’s when I discovered my fate.”  Eyes still closed, she swallowed hard.  “No matter what universe, if there’s a Jamie Vasquez in it, she ends up diapered and babied.  The whys and hows vary, but the end result is basically the same.  Most every version of me ends up like…” she pointed to the bathroom door; the sounds of stupidly childish giggles wafting in from somewhere in the house, “…that.”

Jack’s face sank.  Holy shit.  If what she was saying was true, and he had no reason to disbelieve her, Jamie thought that she was destined to end up a drooling idiot in Pampers and pigtails.  He had gotten off relatively light, he was still him on the inside.   That other Jamie though, she was what Jamie was making Jack pretend to be.  Then something occurred to Jack.  “What do you mean ‘most every version’?”

Jamie bit her lip, guiltily.  “I mean there is some variation,” she explained.  “Free will is still a thing.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Jamie said, “that in most realities, that version of me ends up a big baby.  But sometimes, I end up being the one changing diapers instead of wearing them.  And based on my connections, first-hand accounts, and calculations, most of the boys that get babied have a ‘J’ name.  Like Jim, or John, or…or…Jack. ”

That was when everything clicked into place for Jack.  The forced treatment, the almost clinical detachment when mothering him, the thrill she took at debasing him and watching him submit, the gambler’s eyes.  The crazy bitch wasn’t a sadist with a very particular fetish. She was terrified, she was trying to avoid a fate worse than death and just hoping that things played out right.   “You’re trying to cheat fate.” Jack said in realization.

“Baby Jack and Mommy Jamie,” she said, ignoring him.  “It had a nice ring to it.”  She leaned into Jack a bit, pressing herself against him.  Gently, she reached down and took his manhood into her hands.  “Still could have a nice ring to it.

Jack wasn’t about to be so easily distracted.  Thinking with just his dick had gotten him into this mess.  Swatting Jamie away, he said, “So why are you here?  Couldn’t you find somebody on your own dimension to make a baby slave out of?”

Jamie’s eyes flickered with sheer terror and anguish, just a hint of it though; of memories long buried.  “It didn’t end well there.”

“Why here, though?”  There had to have been a reason, Jack deduced.  Nothing Jamie did was ever on a whim.  “Why this Earth?

Jamie stepped back, looking hurt that her advances weren’t being reciprocated.  “It was this dimension’s Jamie.  She actually had…has…had an adult baby fetish.  I thought if I helped her and turned her into… y’know…that that might be some kind of cosmic loophole.  Fate said Jamie Vasquez had to be a big baby here, and now she is.  So there’d be room for me to just be myself.”

“So that you,” Jack motioned to the door, “wanted you you to turn her into…that?”

“She was a willing guinea pig.  Helped me beta test and perfect my Dominance nanites.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“She didn’t mind.  She thanked me every day until she lost most of her vocabulary.  I even helped her set up with Gertrude, who always wanted to be a Mommy to a little girl, and I support them financially.”

“That’s…kinda nice…I guess…”

“Though, you should be glad you weren’t here for the first round of experiments.  The first generation of nanites were delivered by enema bag.  The second was via suppository.  There was something about the composition and taste for a while that induced vomiting, otherwise.  Much less discreet.”

“So, why did you start…y’know…”  Again, he looked down at the disposable undergarments meant for children but sized for him.

“Obviously, my hypothesis was proven wrong,” the extra dimensional traveler sneered.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“I can’t just leave it alone either.  When I first took Infinitech public, we held a big party.  A major shareholder slipped something into my drink.  Next thing I know I’m going limp, he’s ‘escorting’ me to a backroom and is breaking out a package of Molicares; telling me about how he’s going to blackmail me and retrain me and run the company through me.”  Jamie shuddered as she relived that particular memory.  Jack had nothing to say to that, feeling a bit of vomit shoot up into his mouth, instead.  “It didn’t go the way he planned.” Jamie added with some finality.

A shiver ran down Jack’s spine, something more than just the open air hitting his water soaked body.  “That’s messed up.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” Jamie replied.  “Every time I do something besides baby a man, something comes along and tries to baby me.  It’s fate.”

“Like with Nanny?”  Jack raised an eyebrow.

The inventor remembered her malfunctioning machine. “Just like with Nanny…” she paused. “…I don’t even blame Miranda for trying to kidnap me this morning.  She couldn’t help it.  Fate pushed her into that role because I wasn’t adhering to mine.”  The silence rushed into the vacuum between them. Then, Jack asked the question that had been eating at him for longer than he’d have cared to admit.

“What happened to the others?  The ones you had before me.”

Jamie turned her back to him, and crossed her arms over her breasts.  “It didn’t work out,” she stated flatly. “Something would be off.  The calculations would come back unsatisfactorily, or it’d be too easy or too hard, and the whole would just feel…fake.  I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but it wasn’t real enough for fate to be satisfied.  It was like I was just….just….”

“Playing house?” Jack offered.  “They weren’t babies to you, just dolls.  Playthings.”

His former captor gasped, eyes widening in realization. After a beat, she added, “And who plays with dolls?”

“Yup,” he nodded.

“But something’s different this time,” she turned around again and looked him in the eye.  “You’re…different.  I don’t want to just play with you. I don’t want to control you.  I want to…I want to love you and care for you, and take care of you.  And…” she added breathily, “I have no idea why, but I want to fuck your brains out when I’m not changing your diapers.”  She bent over and picked up an adult sized Pampers.  “However,” she added, “I still want to be changing your diapers. I need this in more ways than one.”

“You still haven’t answered my question,” Jack pressed. “What happened to the ones who didn’t work out?”

Jamie frowned. “They’re well taken care of.  I have plenty of friends and hangers-on who would love to take care of a big bundle of joy.”

“What. Happened?”

“Bye, bye big boy.” A single tear came down from Jamie’s eye.  “That’s what happened.”

Jack stood perfectly still, the rage boiling up inside him.  The same trigger phrase that sent that one guy into a kind of seizure, crumpling into the floor; the one where Jack had played catatonic to fool Jamie’s kidnappers into thinking he was out of way; the Dominance nanites that had been put into his apple juice; that was how Jamie dealt with her baby doll boy toys when she’d grown bored of them.  Part of him hadn’t want to believe it.  He was hoping, just once, that she would lie to him.  She didn’t though.

She was a monster.  Jamie Vasquez, beautiful and brilliant inventor and founder of Infinitech was a complete and utter monster.  Lawyers or not, ironclad contracts or not, this was despicable.  Jamie seemed to be reading his thoughts.  “Yes, I’ve made some serious mistakes,” she admitted.  “I’ve done terrible, awful things, but I think I can get it right this time, Jack.  I was always missing something; and that something is you.”

She approached, diaper in hand.

He recoiled back a step.

“Not interested.”  Had she been up front, that would have been another thing entirely.  Hot girl thought he was sexy, and wanted to be his Sugar Momma, and all he had to do was wear diapers for her and suck on her titties?  Done.  Not even that hard of a sell, really. Weird, sure, but the pros totally outweighed the cons.  That wasn’t how their “relationship” was, though.  It had been founded on trickery, manipulation, force, and entrapment.  Not cool.  Not cool at all. “I want out.”

Her lip trembled and shook.  She looked like she might start crying.  In her mind, Jack realized, he had just sentenced her to a fate.  In her mind, he was proposing that he pull the plug on her independence; her very adult hood.

Served her right; crazy bitch.

“You should know,” Jamie said, her voice cracking a bit, “that I ran some numbers, did some research, and got a hot tip.  It’s very likely that you’re fated to end up wearing one these, no matter what.  There have been more than a few Jamies who ended up sharing a crib with a Jack.”

Fine.  Fuck her too.  Let them share a crib then.  Jack didn’t care if across the multiverse or whatever that his life amounted to a bit part in some kind of cosmic fetish fap fiction. He was angry.  He was tired of being strung along.  He was done.  He was tired of fighting; tired of struggling.

“I want out.”

Jamie’s head sunk.  “Fine,” she said, looking down at the tile floor.  Spinning on the ball of her foot, Jamie grabbed a towel from a rack and wrapped it around herself.  She tossed its twin to Jack.  He caught it and covered himself.  “Gertrude,” she called out, sounding both forceful and angry, with a hint of sadness.  “Bring me my backup, please.”

In walked in the little old woman, her “daughter” toddling right behind her sucking on a pacifier.  Damn that was disturbing to see two Jamies in the same room, one mentally an adult, the other decidedly not.  If Jamie was right, it was practically a before and after picture. “I hope you don’t mind,” Gertrude said, “I took the liberty of getting it ready when I realized you were here.”  She gave Jack a look of pure curiosity, then turned to Jamie and asked, “Why doesn’t he have his diaper back on, yet?”

“I’m done.” Jack said with finality.

Gertrude scoffed. “Nonsense. Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby- oof!“ Jamie, the adult one, clapped her hand over the old woman’s mouth.

“Not this one, Gertrude,” Jamie instructed.  “This one is…he’s…Jack’s different.”

“Really?” Gertrude, looked to Jamie with a sense of wonder and then back at Jack.  It was as if she was looking at him, actually looking at him; not as one of Jamie’s accessories or some nuisance to be shooed from the door before he discovered their terrible secret.  “You really must be something special,” she told Jack.

From a simple piece of pea green cloth, wrapped with care, the old woman withdrew what looked to Jack to be an inhaler.  Jamie took it from her and quickly pressed down and breathed deeply.  A silvery, almost grey mist, puffed out as she exhaled and coughed violently.  “I keep my nanite deactivator here,” Jamie wheezed, her voice full of pain.  “Most don’t know about this place.” She started gasping.  “Harder to steal… never needed it till now.”  A final few coughs and her breathing started to slow.  “Hurts like a motherfucker.”  Meekly, she offered it to Jack.  “Here.”

Jack took it turned the little inhaler over in his hands, shaking it a bit to make sure it still had something in it.  It did.  Before he pressed it to his lips though, a little voice of paranoia scratched at the back of his mind.  He looked at his captor directly in the eye and said “Bye bye, big girl.”  Nothing.  “Bye bye, big boy.”  Still nothing.  “Mommy wuvs it when her widdle baby crawls on the floor.”  That did something: it made Jamie flinch. But that was it.

Satisfied that this wasn’t a placebo in his hands, Jack took the inhaler, pressed it to his lips, and then pressed the button down, breathing deeply.  The pain was almost instantaneous.  It started out feeling like a slight fever, the same blushing feeling that comes with too much whiskey, but within half a second escalated into a scratching and clawing sensation coming from inside his head. His lungs lit up on fire next as he exhaled, spewing his own toxic looking fumes into the air.  He coughed and coughed, mainly because he couldn’t draw in enough air to scream.  Someone was taking an electrified rake to his spine.  Doubled over in pain, it was all Jack could do to keep from vomiting on the spare diaper, still folded not a foot away from him.

Finally, after much too long, definitely longer than Jamie had spent on the verge of complete agony, Jack collected himself and stood up, wiping a bit of spittle from the corner of his lips.   “That solution is an aerosol containing nanites designed to hunt down and destroy Dominance nanites, and then break down themselves,” Jamie explained when it became clear that Jack was capable of listening.  “Yours took longer because you’ve had more exposure, and longer.”

“Yeah,” Jack panted, a tone of indignation in his voice.  “I get it.  I’m not stupid.”

“No,” Jamie agreed.  “You’re not.”  They stared at each other again, this time as true equals, it would seem.

“I’ll just be waiting outside,” Gertrude said, clearly uncomfortable.

“Don’t bother,” Jack shook his head. “I’m leaving.”

“But Jack….” Jamie called after him as he turned,

“No,” Jack shook his head.  Fucking lunatic still wanted him to stick around.  “No.  We’re done.”

 

Not going down easy…

 

Jack didn’t say another word to Jamie, as much as she would have preferred it.  Even a terse “Goodbye” would have been preferable to the stony glares he cast her way.  He directed all of his inquiries elsewhere.  He didn’t even look at Jamie Ninety-Six, who Jamie noted out of habit, more than anything else, badly needed changing.

He walked out of her life wearing a set of navy blue sweat pants and matching shirt that Gertrude dug out of her attic; no diaper this time.  A pair of pink worn out crocs were the only footwear that would fit him.  How ironic, Jamie grimly mused, that this was almost exactly what he wore the last time that he thought was big boy.   Stop it, she corrected herself, he’s an adult.  He’s not yours anymore.  Stop thinking like that.  The biggest difference between the last time Jack ventured out into the world alone and this one was that back then, Jamie was completely certain that he’d be back in time once he realized the limitations her Dominance nanites had placed on him.  Now, she was absolutely certain that he wouldn’t be back.

Gertrude handed him some petty cash, about a thousand dollars, made a phone call, and Jamie watched from the second floor window as Jack walked down the long driveway toward a waiting cab.  This hurt.  Why though?  Was it because she really felt a connection with this man walking away from him, or was it just because she was the one being dumped this time?  Every other time she’d parted ways with one of her baby boys (stop it stop it stop it!) it’d been on her own terms, with them destined to spend the rest of their lives being cared for by one of her rich socialite “friends” as little more than diapered invalids.  By then, she’d determined- both emotionally and empirically- that Jackson or James or whomever wasn’t the right one.  There’d never been that spark, that feeling of (dare she say it?) destiny.  Didn’t matter now, though did it?  Her best shot at sidestepping the fate she’d cursed dozens with had walked away, and along with it, her best chance at happiness- not because she dodged an existential bullet with her name on it, but because she might just actually love him.  This brief bit of introspection was painful, but fleeting.

The noose was drawing closer with every passing moment.   This time, fate had tapped General Smothers, and through him Miranda, to ruin her, confining her to her own little padded and baby powder scented hell.  She didn’t have time to have a good cry and eat a half-pint of ice cream while watching a chick flick, or whatever normal women did when they got dumped; she was so much more than normal.  She was Jamie Vasquez, mistress of fate and scientific genius.  It was time for war.

The pink princess shirt and matching pajama shorts didn’t particularly make Jamie feel like a warrior, but it was all Gertrude had in her size.  The other Jamie would have looked adorable in these, but it was frankly a bit too cutesy for her taste.

With Jack gone and finally out of sight, Jamie sulked out into the living room.  Her double, this dimension’s Jamie Vasquez, lay on a changing mat, her dress hem pulled up past her bellybutton and her legs splayed as her “Mommy” readied to change her diaper.  “Miss Vasquez,” the sound of ripping velcro mingled with Gertrude’s greeting.

“Gertrude, you can call me Jamie.”

At the sound of her name, Jamie’s regressed copy looked up at her, smiling and waving at her.  “I think I’ll call you Miss Vasquez for the time being.  My little one thinks I’m talking about her if I call you by your first name.”  As if to demonstrate, the old woman pulled the diaper back and said, “Legs up, Jamie.”  The adult baby complied and Gertrude reached for a pack of wipes to start wiping her down with.

Jamie sighed out through her nose.  “Point taken.”

“So what is it this time?” Gertrude asked as she slid the used diaper out from under her charge.  She’d likely done this thousands of times over the years; she didn’t need to think about it anymore.  God, the still adult Jamie wished she had that kind of ease of skill.  “Hostile takeover gone all Daddy Dom?  That subliminal doo-hickey you were working on making everyone think you’re the baby girl?  What?”

“I sold the schematics for my nanites to the military,” Jamie said as Gertrude balled up the used diaper and unfolded a new Pampers.  “Little” Jamie grabbed at her own ankles and giggled as her lips puckered at her toes.

Gertrude chuckled as she slid the fresh diaper under Jamie’s infantile analog.   “That was a mistake,” she said.  Then, “Okay Jamie, legs down, baby girl.”  The old woman looked up to Jamie and asked bluntly, “What were you thinking?”

“That it would take decades for them to actually build anything comparable.”

“Didn’t take them that long, did it?” Gertrude asked, clearly knowing the answer.  Her big baby giggled- a giggle that the more mature Jamie shared- as her diaper area was dusted with baby powder.  “So then they decided to use it on you?  Give you a taste of your own medicine?”

“Pretty much.  Now they’ve probably got both my office and my apartment under surveillance and are ready to pounce the moment I step into visual range.”

“If there’s one thing that you and my Jamie have in common,” Gertrude said, pulling the front of the diaper up between her baby girl’s legs, “it’s that both of you completely lack common sense.”

Jamie frowned.  Her?  Like that thing on the ground?  “Nonsense,” Jamie replied.  “There’s no one in the multiverse like…”  The memory flooded into her grey matter, hitting her like the shock from a car battery.

“We don’t normally collude with foreign operatives.”  Miranda hadn’t figured out how to.  Someone had helped her.  Who could have had that kind of in depth knowledge of Jamie’s technology besides…?

The answer had been right there all along.  Earlier that morning, Jamie had literally met with someone just like her.  Someone with the capability and know how to leap across dimensions, and knew and understood her level of technology.

“Okay…prove it.  Take him out.  And I don’t mean in a limo or that big fancy office of yours where you control the environment.  Put both of yourselves out there.  Make yourselves targets.” …What was more “foreign” than another being from a different reality?   Jamie Seven-Twenty-Eight had literally dared her into making this stupid move before she was ready.  And on the same damn day, Miranda suddenly had been able to engineer full blown Dominance nanites.  That couldn’t have been a coincidence.    She had literally been bluffed and conned by what was essentially her.

“That bitch!” Jamie spat.

“So what now?” Gertrude asked, fastening the first tape on the adult baby Jamie.

“Did you keep those old inventions of mine from back when we were turning Jamie,” she indicated the wriggling girl on the floor, “into…Jamie?”

Gertrude finished taping up her baby girl’s Pampers.  “Of course.  I never throw anything away…except the diapers of course.” She chuckled at her own joke.

Jamie nodded, ignoring the joke. “Pack me a diaper bag and loan me your car. If they think they’ll take me that easily,” Jamie said, “they’ll have more collateral damage than another Nine-Eleven.”

Gertrude stared at her blankly.

“Oh, right,” Jamie corrected herself.  “That never happened in this dimension.  I forgot.”

An Adult Baby Walks Into A Bar….

 

Okay, it wasn’t a proper bar; not really; however, the sign did advertise it as a “Chili’s Bar and Grill”.  Point being, it had two things that Jack desperately needed right then and there: liquor and a bathroom, and not necessarily in that order.

“Hi, welcome to Chili’s,” a young hostess greeted him after he paid the cabbie and made a mad dash indoors.  Fuck it, he could get a new cab after he was good and drunk.  He needed a drink.  As of right now, he had no job, likely no apartment (he’d been gone for close to a month and he had already been behind on rent; eviction was a likelihood) and had only a little under a thousand bucks to his name.  Jack Grainger was completely unprepared for his sudden freedom.  That didn’t matter, though.  He needed a couple of drinks, a hot meal that wasn’t spoon fed to him, a couple of drinks, some dessert, a couple of drinks, a cab ride, a quick trip to a liquor store, then a cheap hotel room, where he would have a couple drinks before falling asleep in an actual, no-bars-included-bed.   More than any of that, however, Jack needed the bathroom.  After several weeks of being forced to void himself in his diapers (ugh…they were not hisdiapers! Fuck that!) with almost no control, holding it in suddenly became a task that required infinitely more concentration and effort than the young man had remembered.  Jack ignored the hostess and made a bee-line for the men’s room of the busy restaurant.  He didn’t even attempt to explain, and the hostess’s giggles seemed to indicate that he didn’t need to.

The sound of his own piss hitting water was a masterful concerto; a virtuoso performance of the highest caliber. His own improvised, though inspired lyrics of “Aaaaaaah….ooooooh…ahhhh…yeah!” accompanied.  Based on his victorious howls of pleasure, someone outside the empty men’s room might assume that Jack was having sex, or at least masturbating.  As of late, however, the young man had had sex more often than he’d urinated outside his pants; he considered the latter more exciting and of greater relief to him by far.

So out of practice was he, that he was pushing on the door to the restaurant proper before he remembered to go back and flush.  Washing his hands didn’t occur to him, but to be fair, it might not have even before he had become ensnared in Jamie’s machinations.

The newly liberated young man wound his way through the booths and tables, all teaming with couples, families, friends, and the occasional party of one till he found an open stool by the bar.  “Double shot of fireball,” Jack ordered.

The bartender, who in a less family friendly environment could easily have been mistaken for a bouncer, cast Jack a look.  “Sure thing,” then he did a slow double take.  “I.D.?” Out of habit, Jack reached for his wallet, only to grasp at nothing but his thigh.  Shit!  Jamie had ditched his wallet along with any official form of identification of his when he had come crawling back to her that first night. These weren’t even his own clothes!

“Come on, man,” Jack all-but begged, “I’m over twenty-one.”

“Sorry dude, I can’t serve you without I.D.  You’ve got a real case of babyface.”

Pure fury coursed through Jack’s brain.  Common sense reigned in his temper enough so that he resorted to biting his tongue so hard he almost tasted blood.  No point in getting kicked out or picking a fight he’d in no way win.  The ex man-baby dropped his head against the bar with an audible thud.  “Fuck you, Jamie,” he whispered.  Even now, she was meddling in his life, her machinations interfering and making even the simplest task impossible.  “I fuckin’ hate, you Vasquez,” he said a little more loudly.

“Ex-wife?”  the bartender said with a sympathetic tone.

Jack looked up. “It’s complicated.”

“Excuse me,” a strangely familiar voice came from behind him.  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I thought you mentioned a friend of mine.  Are you talking about Jamie Vas-?”

Jack turned around to the source of the voice.  She looked to be in her early to mid-sixties, with long, out-of-the-bottle raven black hair that Jack knew went down to the middle of her back; hippy hair; Cher hair.  Her lipstick was a little too red; her eye shadow just bit too dark; with nails that were just a little too long; like a DMV worker.  Shelly. The so-called human resources manager that had vetted Jack for his new “promotion” as “product tester”.

“You!” Jack pointed his finger at her.

“John?!” the woman gasped. Jack’s fury dissipated almost instantly into disappointment.  “Jim…?”  She couldn’t even remember his damn name.

He sighed. “Jack,” he corrected her.

“Jamie’s baby.”  Shelly added with a tone of recognition, as if calling him that made it better.

A low guttural growl came from Jack’s mouth.  “Don’t. Call. Me. That.”

Jamie’s friend held her hands up in a defensive position. “Sure, sure, hon. Sorry about that.  Didn’t mean to bother you,” she backed up a step.  “Just didn’t expect to see you here, dressed like that…” her eyes darted downward and Jack realized that she was checking to see if he was wearing a diaper, causing more than a bit of color to flush to his cheeks.  “…and without your Mo-“ she caught herself, thinking better of it. “Didn’t expect to see you here without Jamie.  She usually keeps her…” again Shelly caught herself, “her closest of associates close.”

Jack gazed into the older woman’s eyes; looking for that sadistic glee of Jamie’s: the one that got off on humiliation; the game player; the gambler; and saw nothing.  (Come to think of it, had he seen that in Jamie’s eyes when he’d left her?)  Whoever this lady was, or why she was here; it wasn’t because of his “Mommy”.  This wasn’t a trap.  Jack relaxed a little, then broke eye contact.  “Yeah, we’re done.”

“Oh,” was all he got in response.

“Yeah.”  Jack slid off the stool and started to walk away.  Fuck this.  He could go get drunk somewhere else; somewhere where he wouldn’t be carded.

His back to Jamie’s friend, he barely heard her say. “I’m sorry.”

Jack stopped and turned around “What?”

“You just got dumped, right?” Shelly offered.  “Hence the sweat suit and fist full of money?  She kicked you out instead of…y’know…” she intimated popping a pill. “Bye bye big boy.”  The lady winced, as if she expected Jack to flop over on the ground right there.  Yeah…she knew, all right.

“She didn’t kick me out.  I got away,” he corrected her.

“Mmmm-hmmm…” Shelly nodded, though didn’t seem terribly convinced.  “Look, we’re having a munch.  You wanna sit in?  Talk to some people?  I know Jamie doesn’t let her boy toys socialize much.”

“A munch?” Jack cocked his head.  “The fuck is a munch?”  Shelly thumbed to the table behind her, then turned and waved to the dozen or so people gathered around it.  Reflexively, Jack sucked in his breath.  They were grown men and women, perfectly normal people, until Jack took a closer look at them.

A young woman was dressed in a rather childish dress, perfectly explainable.  Across from her was a man in strangely familiar looking shortalls; that can’t be a coincidence. Another lady was wearing a pink shirt that tucked into her jeans; he was willing to bet that the two ends of it snapped together between her legs. Jack might not have noticed if he hadn’t spent so many hours examining and fretting over himself, dressed so ridiculously, but he could also tell that more than one of them was wearing something a little more absorbent than boxers or panties.

“Just friends who might have similar interests to you,” Shelly explained.

Jack shook his head.  “Yeah, no.  I’m not a freak,” he spit the last word, hoping to make the woman hurt.

She was unfazed.  “Everybody is a freak,” she replied.  “It just depends on what kind of freak you are.  And from our little talk we had a while back,” again, she thumbed to the group behind her, “we might just be your kind of freaks.”  Jack frowned at that.  “Come talk with us.  I’ll buy you a drink.  Besides, don’t you wanna smear Jamie’s reputation?”

Jack couldn’t resist.  If this was a trap of some sort, it was a good one.

“Hi,” one of them, the one in the shortalls, waved at Jack.  Jack just nodded as Shelly pulled a seat out for him.  “Here ya go, sweetie,” she said.  Without thinking he sat down.

Another one, this one dressed fairly normally, looked to Shelly, and asked “Is he cool?”

“Trust me, he’s cool,” Shelly confirmed. “He’s been more of a baby then any of you.  Except for you of course, sweetie,” she pinched the cheeks of the woman in the childish dress.  “No one’s as big a baby as my baby.”  Jack wanted to vomit.  Shelly looked to Jack, and instructed, “Go on, tell them.  Tell them what you’ve been through.  I bet it’s a doozie.”

And so he did: He told them everything.  The “promotion”; the date; the hastily signed contract and the nanites; the diapering; the humiliation; and yes, the sex- all of it.  Surrounded by a captivated audience, the crinkle coming from their nether regions not even registering, Jack told the tale masterfully.  He was the center of attention, on his own terms; in his element.  Some believed him, some shook their heads at how preposterous this was, positive that he was embellishing if not outright fabricating details.  Some shook their heads and commiserated with him, agreeing with how fucked up his situation had been; how fucked up his situation still was.  Others seemed almost jealous, and in that moment as he recounted the many indignities he’d been forced to endure, they were living vicariously through him.  One particularly quiet fellow, Jack noticed, was listening intently, and click-clacking on his laptop at the table, taking notes.

“Just one question,” the quiet one with the laptop asked. “If any of this is true, why didn’t you escape when you could?”  Jack moved to answer but he was interrupted.  “There were plenty of opportunities where you could have escaped; the incidents with the…” the fellow looked at his notes, “robo-nanny and the failed kidnapping attempt being just two of them.  More importantly, why’d you save her?”

Jack was taken aback.  What did this wanna-be detective mean?  “Because I’m not a shit person,” Jack replied, feeling defensive.

“Yeah, but if she’s the bad guy; if she’s such a terrible person….”

Shelly answered for Jack.  “Maybe it’s because you can’t fully control who you fall in love with.”  She flashed a smile at him- a knowing, conspiratorial smile.

“I’m not in…” Jack protested…but then stopped himself.

Holy shit….

[Sarah Penguin]

[Personalias]

So, I am normally not one...or didn't used to be...one of those people who self-indulged with the telling of the "how I thought of it" story.  But I'm gonna have to write an afterward for this particular story.

[maly]

Well that was amazing !

Maly.