The New Narnia (Chapter 33 Up)

[Personalias]

Chapter 13: Making his name. 
It’s astounding
Time is fleeting
Madness
Takes its toll
But listen closely
Not for very much longer
I have to keep control...

BONG! BONG! BONG!

Tom Dean was on his feet before the third chime rang out, with his hand clapped over his mouth so he wouldn’t scream out in surprise (or joy).  This was it!  It was time! He knew it!  Saturday and Sunday had been completely uneventful, with Tom not hearing so much as a peep from the old clock.

But now?  Now it was time.  The digital clock on the coffee table flashed half past eleven. Odd.  Tom thought it would have been just after midnight when he was awakened.  Apparently time wasn’t a factor for the broken clock.  (Heh.)

Tired of waiting, Tom superstitiously recreated Friday night to the best of his memory.  He’d slept on the couch in the same position, just like Friday.  He’d worn the same silk jammies- his one good pair-just like Friday.   

He’d tossed and turned, waiting for the clock to call to him for close to an hour before it occurred to him that sleeping might be a prerequisite of hearing its call.  Too excited with the possibility of returning to that magical world to sleep without some kind of aid, Tom quietly masturbated on the couch thinking of hot women fawning over him as they changed his...clothes….his clothes and breas...stuck their titties in his face.  Just like Friday.

A slight monkey wrench in the works was thrown in on the matter of Tom’s underwear.  He hadn’t been wearing any undies last Friday.  Stubborn superstition (was it even superstitious if it worked) dictated that Tom should have gone commando this night, but that would have meant stripping off the oddly fitting toddler underwear he’d stolen.

A tiny voice in his head; the same one that told him to take them; the same one that had him staring at packages of Pull-Ups in the grocery store; insisted that he shouldn’t.  His own guilty conscience agreed out of practicality.  Tossed underwear was potentially discovered underwear.  And Tom would need an excuse that he just didn’t have handy. 

Instead, Tom had ‘compromised’ with himself and shimmied his pajama bottoms down to his ankles so that only one layer of clothing was surrounding his loins as he revved his own engine.  ‘Compromise’ was an apt word, though not in the context that Tom was imagining it. If he had been outside his own body looking down, he would have been able to see himself mouthing the words: “I’mma big boy, I’mma big boy, I’m big, I’m big, I’m big…” and then start sucking his thumb as he climaxed into his new padded underwear.

Hadn’t he fallen asleep after that?  With his pajama bottoms still around his ankles?  Why were they back around his waist now?  Who-?

BONG! BONG! BONG!

The clock repeated its summons.  As if to hammer the point home, the front panel of the clock creaked open.  Malacus was in need of him, just as much as he needed it.  Time to play the hero.  Screw that!  Time to BE the hero!

Just one slight problem…

He also had to pee.  

Pretending that the old clock had eyes, he held up a finger towards the ruined antique, calling for patience.  When the portal made no reply, Tom shuffled off to the bathroom.  Adventuring through magical lands wasn’t the same on a full bladder.

Tom hurried to the bathroom, leaving the door open as he fumbled for his fly so that he could pee. It was a full five seconds of drunkenly searching for a zipper that didn’t exist.  These were pajama bottoms, not boxers!    Like a preschooler just getting the basics down, he dropped trow and made the same mistake with his underwear.  The training pants forewent the need for a dick hole to make the padding extra absorbent.

Urge rising the eighteen year old practically gave himself rug burn yanking the padded undies down to answer nature’s call.  

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh….”

Sadly, nature wasn’t the only thing calling Tommy.

CREEEEEAK!

The door was closing!  Oh no!  He was about to lose out on adventure number two because he had to go number one!  Skin tingling, Tommy yanked up his training pants and jammies in one swoop and rushed out the bathroom.

The door was closing.  He was being barred entry!  Rejected.  Time slowed down as he sprinted, diving for the closing door, headlong into darkness.  “NNNNNNNNNN-!” He was skidding on rocky floor, a sprinter trying to steal home before the final pitch.  His body was losing composure, trying to roll to break his fall.

The door closed behind him. “OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” His voice echoing off cavernous interdimensional stone.  Trapped in darkness, but on the other side of the clock.  Picking himself up off the ground Tommy heaved a sigh of relief. 
“Did it,” he said to himself.  

“Iddit….iddit...iddit…” his echo called back.  As the heat from his body died down, Tommy felt himself growing cold...cold and damp, but only in one strategic area.  He’d done it alright. Right in his pants.  In his rush to make the closing door (mystical time waited for no man), he hadn’t finished peeing and accidentally released part of his bladder into his thick toddler underpants.

The complete darkness enveloping him only made the feeling in his underwear that much more obvious.  Biting his bottom lip, he felt through the front of his pajama pants, detecting the slightest squish.  

He’d peed himself.

Again, he patted his crotch, more gingerly this time.  The wetness hadn’t bled through to the front yet.  Good. Just a little pee...a tiny tinkle.  Only a little more than if he’d forgotten to shake.  It wouldn’t do to have Tom the Titan, savior of Malacus running around with wet pants.

One deep breath later, Tom put his hand against the nearest cave wall and trudged forward, much faster than he had that first night.  He knew where he was going this time.  This was a journey, not an exploration.

Quicker than the first time, Tommy found the chamber of glowing algae, the sound of dripping water greeting him.  Self-consciously, he pawed at his crotch, which was beginning to feel cool and clammy.    “It’ll all come out in the pool,” Tommy whispered to himself.  “No one will know.  Not Nox.  Not Leadshoulder.  No one.”

“Un...un...un...un..”

Impatiently, he strode forward to the end of the chamber, towards where he’d find the Mana Pool.  Where was it?  He looked around, his eyes not yet fully adjusted to the bioluminescent algae.  

There!

Just above the exit, the final stretch to a land where he was a god, scraped into the wall was the name: “Charles Watson”.

Tommy stopped.  Charles Watson.  Must’ve been the guy who saved Malacus before Tommy; the reason why Nox and company thought the land outside their clock was called The Land of Men.  He shrugged.  Neat.  

He took a step forward.  

And stopped.

Why should Charles Watson be the only person to leave his mark on this place?  Where was Charles Watson?  Not here!  This wasn’t Charles Watson’s place anymore, it was Tommy’s!

Index finger extended like a chisel, Tommy picked a nearby patch of algae.  Sticky and wet, not unlike other things close to Tommy; though that comparison gave him little comfort.  With slow and deliberate movements, Tommy carved out his name.  Each movement of his finger sent rippling beautiful sparks through the wood as he disturbed it.  

Mesmerizing.  Positively mesmerizing.  It made the simple act of scribbling his name seem all the more magical.  “Thomas Dean” he read out loud.  It felt better, right, to use his formal name. This time the cavern did not echo back.

Tommy waited.  “Well...okay then.”

“En...en...en…en…”

Huh.  Weird.  One deep breath later, Tommy ducked and stepped through the hole.

A moment of blackness.

And then power!

The first time he’d come here, he had almost drowned.  Now he was soaring, gliding through the depths;  each kick propelling him like a shark through the water.  The tiny light of the sun was a target to him and he effortlessly surged upward.  

Less than three seconds later, his lungs were taking in air as he broke the surface.  He wasn’t swimming, he was all but soaring.  He was a dolphin! A dragon! A god!  An olympic diver in reverse, Tom flipped and spun in the air flinging the errant droplets of water off of him in a blur before landing on his feet.

“NICE!” he said.

That wasn’t all that was nice. The air, the very fabric of Malcus’s reality had done more than empower Tommy, but his clothes as well.  Completely dry, his silk pajamas were now hardened Dwarven Steel glowing with both magic and sunlight.

Correction: Not completely dry.

Tommy could still feel a certain dampness in the front of his crotch.  In this form, his mystical armor was all one piece.  He couldn’t just pull open his metal trousers and peek down or feel around now.  It was an all or nothing ordeal.

  He didn’t exactly need to, though.  Tommy could feel it.  The strange cool clamminess around his penis hadn’t reduced at all.  His jammies had metamorphosed into the amazing mythical armor from his last journey.  

His underwear?  That was still nothing more than soiled training pants. Oddly enough, Tommy was okay with that.  No one could see it, he justified. So it didn’t matter.  It would do him good to stay humble here.

“M’lord!” a familiar voice called to him.  “Thank goodness you’ve returned from Earth Realm!”

Tommy turned to the sound of the voice as stout heavy boots trudged toward him.  “Leadshoulder!” he called back.  “Your beard has finished growing in!  Congratulations.”

The dwarf with the face of a (former) bully stretched out across his wide skull finished his approach and took a knee.  “Thank you, m’lord.  Somehow, I knew it would be me to find you.  We’ve been taking shifts the last several days.”

Right.  Right.  This wasn’t a vacation for them, Tommy reminded himself.  The dwarves and centaurs didn’t know that their entire universe was inside a beat up piece of crap.  “Where’s Nox?”

“Captured, m’lord,” the dwarf answered. “Enslaved.  Him and all the other centaurs.”

“Elves?” Tommy asked.

“What else?”

“Any hydragons?”

A grim chuckle came from Leadshoulder’s lips.  “I believe you throttled them into extinction, m’lord.”

“Then what?”

The dwarf’s eyes went downcast.  “The elves have a new queen, m’lord.  A dark sorceress who bleeds dark magic.”

Tommy held up his hand. He had a strange feeling about this one.  “Enrapturing voice?”

“Aye, m’lord.”
“Curvaceous hips?”

“Aye…”

“The ability to ensorcel any man that she speaks to, capable of driving them to frenzied lusts, or crushing sorrow?”

“M’lord?  How do you-?”

Tommy wasn’t done guessing.  “And does this Queen have a..a…” he stuttered.  What was the word?  “A handmaiden with huge...tracts of land?”

“We call them breasts, m’lord.” 

Tommy waved the dwarf off and Leadshoulder visibly shook, afraid that Tommy might accidentally grace him.   “You know what I mean.  Does the sorceress elf queen have a handmaiden with huge tits?!”

Leadshoulder only gawked and began playing with his beard out of sheer nervous disbelief.  “Does the Land of Men...I mean Earth Realm house such witches for you to know so much?”

“Not quite,” Tommy smirked.  “But close enough.”  Tommy walked over to his fantasy friend and wrapped his arm around the dwarf’s waist.  “Which way is this evil elf queen and her handmaiden.”

“Do you intend to slay her, m’lord?”  The dwarf’s voice had a kind of angry hope behind it.  What had this witch done?

Tommy looked to the dwarf.  “Is it something she did to Nox?”

“Aye,” he replied.  “But I dare not speak of it.  Tis’ shameful for one of his kind.” 

Everything here was so amped up from reality.  Nox equated to Mr. Jordan.  And this evil elf queen was most likely some variation of Amanda Monroe.  In class Amanda had Mr. Jordan wrapped around her finger.  What could be so shameful for a centaur that his friend wouldn’t even speak of it? A terrible idea sunk its way into Tommy’s brain.  “Castrated?”  he asked.  “Or gelded, I guess?”  

“Wha-?”  Now Leadshoulder looked disgusted. “No!  Don’t be ridiculous.  She just rides him around everywhere like a horse.  Puts a saddle on him and rides it sideways.   Keeps his hands tied behind his back and a bridle in his mouth.”  His lip curled in disgust.  “A sad sight to see a half man, half horse reduced to just a horse.  Do you intend to throttle her or not?”

A blush rose to Tommy’s sheeks, but not from fury.  A heat rose in his loins and his wet underwear pressed against him just a little tighter.  This was a rare opportunity he had here.  First Josh and Trevor.  Now Amanda and Cameron.  Trevor was a dwarf, Josh had been an Elf.  Dwarves good.  Elves bad.  But did they have to be?   Not every evil needed to be slain outright.  

And as fun as it was to pretty much disintegrate a pointy eared, purple blooded Josh Hamlin, doing the same to two girls that he had a crush on just wasn’t in the same ballpark.  Wrong sport altogether, infact.  No.  A different tact was needed here.
 
“Not exactly,” Tommy said.  “Which way to this evil elf queen?”

“You go to her now?”

“Only if you’ll tell me.”

“North by Northeast, m’looooooooooo-”

Tommy didn’t even wait for Leadshoulder to finish his sentence.  The moment he had a direction, he leapt into the air doing miles at a single bound, and carrying his poor stout friend along with him attached at the hip.

“Beggin’ your pardon, m’lord!” the dwarf screamed to be heard over the rushing air.  “But we’re falling!”

“Aye,” Tommy said, adopting the speech patterns of his adopted world.  “But we’ll land safely before we go up again.”

“Would it please you, m’lord if you drop me,”  the dwarf stopped himself.   Leadshoulder was tugging at his beard with his free hand.  “I mean put me down safely before your next titanic leap?”

Tommy giggled.  “Fine.  Sure thing buddy.  Sure thing.”

Darn it felt good to be back!  
 

[ChampTehOtter]

I'm already following you Patreon, but I just have to say that this is one of my favorite parts.  *Love* the backpack. And the things Tommy whispers to himself. So cute! I swear I've started doing that too when I think of Paw Patrol >.<

[Personalias]

Chapter 14:  A Battle of Wills

Draw a line in the sand 

And then make a stand

Use your camera to spar

Use your guitar

When they act tough

You call their bluff

 

“My, my, my,”  The elf queen said.  “What have we here?  Bust into my private chambers with nary a knock.” She laid on her lavish bed, her robe  made of glistening glamouring samite, just as it had been described by Leadshoulder.  Sparkly.  Huh.  So that’s what samite looked like.  Or was it?  Tommy had been told that the queen sheathed herself in robes of samite, but he’d never seen the material before, and only vaguely recalled the word from a Monty Python skit.  Could Malacus, fantasy realm that it was, accurately represent or contain ideas that Tommy did not possess?

 

Ultimately, it was the fact that the queen looked identical to Amanda Monroe, (discounting the purple eyes and pointy ears) that marked her as the elve’s tyrannical monarch.  It made sense that the queen of Scrumpton High, and his biggest crush, was the evil queen that he must conquer.  “Is this what the Titan from the Land of Man looks like?”  Her tone was gentle, but her face was completely blase; unimpressed.

 

Tommy smiled softly. .  Whatever bizarre rules this magical world played by, some things were still a constant.  Considering what he wanted to do, constants were a comfort..  “Earth Realm,”  Tommy said.

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“It’s called Earth Realm, now.”

 

The elf with Amanda’s face remained lying on her bed.  “Why?” she asked.  “Do men now live beneath the earth and shun the open sky as dwarves do?”

“No.”

 

“Do they fear the sea and dare not speak its name?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why Earth Realm?”

 

Tommy’s brows knitted together in mild consternation.  “Because I said so...?”  That didn’t feel quite right.  Not very heroic.  It sounded like something a dumb grown-up would say when their authority was challenged.

 

The elf queen did not stir.  “Oh?  You’re a king over there, then?”

 

“No...I-” 

 

“A general?”  A slight smirk.  Not a happy one.

“No.”

 

“A religious leader?” Tommy didn’t even get a chance to reply before she peppered him with more sarcastic suggestion.,  “Grand marshal in a parade? Nanny for a small child? Won a contest by having your name drawn from a hat?  Given to you by someone who did?”

 

“ENOUGH!”  Tommy’s voice was thunder and it echoed throughout the tower drowning out the elf’s voice.  Still...the queen seemed unmoved.  She just kept lounging on her bed like a cat that had been mildly roused from its nap.  “It doesn’t matter what I am over there!  Here?  Here I’m invincible.”

 

“Ah yes,” the queen said.  “All men who come to Malacus are dregs.” Just like the real Amanda, Queenie’s emotions seemed to range from condescension all the way to disgust.  “Dregs. Peasants.  Losers.  Yet the air of Malacus nourishes you.  Fills you.  Protects you.  Coddles you.” She spat the last word.

 

“Your point?”

 

Unafraid, the queen brushed back her hair and stretched.  “I wonder what would happen, were our positions reversed.  What if even one of my people could go to your  Land of Men?”

 

“Earth Realm.”

 

“Whatever.” The queen, who had until now been laying on her back, twisted and turned so that she was on her stomach, still looking up comfortably at Tom.  “Your home is something I think I’d very much like to see.”

 

A growl escaped Tommy.  Such a beautiful face but such cutting words.  And just like everyone else in his life, this elf seemed to possess the uncanny ability to know his deepest insecurities.  “My air might be poisonous to you.”

 

“Then let me be poisoned,” she laughed. “I’d still get to see the great Tom the Titan in his natural state: No armor.  No strength.  Helpless.  Weak.  Pathetic…”

 

Tommy’s blood boiled.  His teeth gnashed. This wasn’t going as he’d wanted it to at all.  He stepped forward and saw the glimmer in his enemy’s eyes.  He stopped and looked down, not at his own feet, but the foot of her bed.  The bed sat on an ornate rug of deep purple. But why?

 

The nerdy teen from Scrumpton took a breath and thought for a moment.  Amanda-elf remained silent, staring at Tommy, frozen from her bed.  Not egging him on.  Not speaking at all.  Tension wound and stirred in her face.

 

“You’ve got some kind of magic circle around your bed don’t you?” he finally said.  “I’m guessing something that’ll reflect my attack back at me?  Maybe enchant my mind?  Control me?”

 

Like a child that had just had their favorite knock-knock joke spoiled, the elf queen slapped her feather bed in frustration and sat up on it.  “A bit of both,” she admitted.  Her feet hanging over the bed, she peeled back a fold of the carpet, giving Tom a glimpse of glyphs etched in stone.  “It’s primarily an entrancement spell, but your speed and strength are legendary so I wove in a barrier spell to slow you.  It wouldn’t help to enslave you and have you accidentally break me in my charge.”

 

Tommy stroked his chin with a gauntleted hand.  “Huh. Clever.”  

 

“You would have been a most magnificent servant.”

 

“I would have.”  Tommy agreed.  “If it makes you feel any better, you almost had me.  Near perfect baiting.  Any less and I wouldn’t have wanted to attack.  Any more and I would have known it was a trap.  Can’t seem too desperate for this sort of prank.”

 

The elf crossed her arms over her chest and pouted.  “”Where did I go wrong, then?” she asked.  “I was attempting to coax you into attacking me in a blind rage; to make you think that I’d given up and wished to die by your hand.”

 

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded.  “Almost worked.”

 

“Did work on the centaur.”

 

“If you’d taunted me while I was thinking you would have seemed too desperate.”

 

The sorceress queen leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and rested chin in her hands.  “What was I supposed to have done?”  Damn she was cute when she fussed like that.  

 

“Should have used a dagger,”  Tommy replied.  “Threw it at me when I was taking too long.  Make me react on instinct and charge.  Same thing happened to me with the dwarves.”

 

A look of genuine admiration crossed her.  “Oh, you are clever.”

 

“Tell that to Amanda,” Tom sighed.

 

“Who?”

 

“Nevermind.” Tom said.  “I win.  Where do you want to take this from here?”

 

The queen rolled her eyes.  A very Amanda gesture.  “I suppose this is the part where you throttle me and snap my neck like a twig, just as you did to the hydragons.”

 

He wouldn’t have minded his hands around her, that was true.  Just not in that way.  “I don’t think so,” Tommy said.

 

The queen smiled.  “Then let’s talk, shall we?”  She patted a spot on her bed next to her and scooted over, her smile was inviting.  Tempting even.

 

Not tempting enough for Tommy to forget.  “I’m not crossing that spell circle.”

 

“Damn,” she snapped her fingers.  “Can’t blame me for trying.”

 

“And if you’re still stalling for time and waiting on your handmaiden slash ninja assassin, I already took care of her.”

 

Her eyes went wide with shock.  Huh.  To think that Amanda Monroe actually cared about someone besides herself, even if it was just her in elf form.  “You didn’t…?!”  

 

“What? No.” Tommy shook his head. “No, no, no, no.  I just tied her up a little.”  Elf-Cameron was tied up with chains, there not being any rope in the dungeon handy, but she was fine otherwise.

Elf-Amanda stood up from her bed, still not crossing her own warding circle.  “It seems we’re at an impasse,” she said.  “You can’t enter my circle of protection and I dare not leave it.  Were I you I’d simply seal off this tower and make it a prison.”

 

“Yeah, “  Tommy said.  “That’s not me.”  

 

“Who are you?”

 

Tommy took a deep breath.  He could have destroyed her in the same way that he’d destroyed the assassin last time.  Put an end to this war once and for all.  But maybe he didn’t want it to end like that.  Maybe there was more to being the hero than strangling a few hydragons. 

 

Trevor Macintosh had been a huge dick, but ever since Tommy had converted his dwarven doppelganger, Trevor had become halfway decent.  Josh was a giant chode, but the elf with his face had tried to murder him.  So maybe it was dwarves good, elves bad.  But in his gut, Tommy felt it was something more.  

 

The people in this magical land were pale reflections of his real life.  But maybe, just maybe they were something more, and that by altering their shadows, he could change the real deal.  He sure hoped so.

 

Releasing his breath, Tommy closed his eyes and called out to the runes in his armor, signaling at them to release.  Like a kind of prayer, he whispered,

 

“I never asked for this, or planned it in advance.  I was merely blown here by the winds of chance.  I never considered myself a Solomon, or Socrates.  I knew who I was: one of your dime-a-dozen mediocrities.”   His armor liked songs, so he picked lyrics that kept him humble, even if they were dubious in their original context.

 

The armor didn’t fall off as much as it melted off of him and reassembled next to him.  He didn’t feel nearly as powerful without it.  But Tom the Titan wasn’t needed to solve this problem. 

 

“I’m Tommy Dean,” he said.  

 

The elf considered him a moment.  “Ghilanna of the Gilded Leaf,” she finally said.

 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Ghilanna”

 

Ghilanna stared at Tommy, everything but the color of her eyes identical to his crush.  “Tommy Dean,” she said.  “Why do you have pups embroidered on your smallclothes and why are they soiled?”

 

Tommy looked down and blushed.  He’d forgotten that he still had his Paw Patrol training briefs on.  The urine had dried up, but the piss stains yet remained.

 

“Yeah...about that,” he said.  “There’s a story to that.”

 

“Do tell.”

[Personalias]

Chapter 15: Coupling

 

And you know, you know, you know

It's 'cause you're beautiful

You say you're numb inside

But I can't agree

So the world's unfair

Keep it locked out there

In here it's beautiful

Let's make this beautiful!

"That works for me."

 

Ghilanna, queen of the elves sat on her bed, a look of intense concentration and confusion on her face.  “So you’re a student?  A child?”

 

Tommy sat in his own chair that he’d pulled  so that he could sit and talk with the now deposed elf queen.  His armor remained floating by the door to her bedroom as it had been since he’d removed it.  Outside the sun was starting to set.  “Yes and no,” Tommy said.  “I’m an adult, but I’m still learning.  Not on my own, yet.”  

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s...kind of how my world works.  My part of the world, anyhow.”  How was he supposed to explain the social and geo-political complexities of twenty-first century Earth?  Tommy barely understood high school Civics class.  Most days he barely understood the societal mandates and rules of Scrumpton Georgia.  To explain all the nuances and complications with living in the real world to someone literally living in a fantasy one; it was just beyond Tommy.

 

Ghilanna seemed to think and take in everything she’d been told.  “You’re a childe?”

 

“What?!”  Tommy felt himself tense up.  “No!”  The ruined kiddie undies around his waist weren't helping his insecurities at the moment.  “Like I said, I’m not a kid.  I go to school but legally, I’m an adult.”

 

Ghilanna still had Amanda’s same pitying, condescending laugh.  “Not that kind of child; a babe suckling at its mother’s teat,” she explained.  “A childe is an untested knight. A man grown who has earned his armor and title, but has yet to taste true battle.”  Even though looking at her made him desperately want to suckle at her teat, the idea of being compared to a knight made Tommy feel better about himself.

 

“Yeah.  You could say that, I guess.”  Remembering a poem he had to read in English class, a lightbulb went off  in.    “I mean yeah.  Totally.  This is my Dark Tower.”

 

“So that is why Malacus is always in turmoil,” Ghilanna said, seemingly more to herself. “We’re your proving grounds.”

 

Tommy hadn’t thought of it that way.  “No, it’s just…yeah, that’s it.”  Tommy didn’t have the heart to tell her that Malacus was basically his escape; his adventure vacation.

 

“And when you return to the Land of Men,” Ghilanna pressed.  “You’ll be a hero?”

 

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded.  “Exactly.”  For some reason, these fantasy creatures just couldn’t, or just didn’t want to grasp that Tommy was a nobody and they didn’t exist to the rest of the world.

 

“But we’ll remain unknown,” Ghilanna said.  “Time will pass here, we’ll be forgotten.  We might even forget ourselves and you’ll pass into legend.  Then we’ll start fighting the dwarves or the centaurs, or the merfolk.  Monsters and abominations will be bred.  Atrocities will occur.”  Violet tears streaked down cheeks.  “Until the next sapling of a man comes in here, saves us, conquers us, and then leaves.”  

 

Tommy mentally corrected himself.  Ghilanna understood much.  “I hadn’t quite thought of it that way.”

 

“Why would you?” she asked.  There was silence between them.  Tommy had wanted to try something resembling diplomacy and had failed.  Maybe this is why Amanda, the real Amanda never talked to him.  He was just awful at it.  “And I look like your lady love?” 

 

“I wouldn’t call her that.”  He’d never referred to Amanda in those terms. He hadn’t dared.  She was a girl who barely knew he existed and what she did know she didn’t particularly care for these days.

 

It was Ghilanna who looked away.  “You didn’t need to.  I could hear it in your voice when you told me I had her face.”  She tapped a pointed earlobe.  “Good hearing.”  She rose from the bed.  “It’s interesting that so many of us seem so familiar to you and yet you are strange to us.”

 

Tommy shrugged.  “Yeah, I guess so.” It was strange.  So strange that Tommy had already filed it under ‘don’t think about it’ in his brain.

 

“It’s like you’re a missing puzzle piece.”

 

Tommy looked up at her.  “What do you mean?”

 

“What if you’re meant to be here, but not because you’re lacking something?”  There was a tinge of excitement in her voice.  “What if we’re not reflections of your world, but you’re the missing piece in this one?”

 

The young man’s mouth went dry.  “What are you saying?”

 

“Throughout the legends, man is a destructor,” the elf said.  “Sometimes benevolent.  Sometimes disastrous.  It all depends on which side he chooses.”

 

“It’s like cliques and the popular kids.”

“Exactly!” she was sounding excited now.  “But what if Tom the Titan from the Land of...from Earth Realm,” she corrected herself, “What if you were a uniter, not a destructor?”

 

Tommy had no idea where she was going with this, but the way she was saying it was stirring up certain...feelings.  Her tone was almost identical to at least thirty-five percent of his masturbation fantasies.

 

With one elegant movement, the elf with his crush’s face stripped her glittering robe off.  “Couple with me.”

 

“What?!”  Her body was perfect.  Every curve identical to Amanda’s, every square inch of skin just as soft and smooth looking as he’d imagined while trying to develop x-ray vision back in Math.  And here she was, inviting him.  ‘Couple with me’ was olde English for ‘let’s fuck’.

 

This was a trap.  It had to be a trap.  His mind knew this.  His penis?  Ready and raring to go.  The padded underwear was doing nothing to hide his excitement.   “Why?”  Tommy asked.  “Why would you…?”

 

“For peace,” she said.  She put her right foot out, over the casting circle and stepped out.  “The dwarves already have pledged themselves to you.  As have the centaurs.”  Tom felt paralyzed as she dug her fingers into his waistband.  “Make me your consort, and the elves shall be your friends as well.”   She lowered to her knees as she slid the underwear off his legs.  Tommy didn’t even quite realize it as he stepped out of the filthy things.

 

Tommy watched as she retrieved a bottle made of ornate purple glass.  “You don’t know much about elven biology, do you?”  Tommy shook his head.  “Our communal instinct is overpowering,” Ghilanna said.  “Once we’ve coupled with someone, their friends and allies become our friends and allies.  It’s why I had…” she paused “have...had a handmaiden.  Wouldn’t do to make peace if I didn’t want to.”

“Why do you want to now?”

 

Ghilanna shook the bottle up.  “Because,” she said.  “If I surrendered to the dwarves and centaurs, they’d win.  If I had entranced you, they’d lose.  But if I couple with their god-king AND their god-king is merciful, we all win.”

 

 Tommy’s brain was still on the lookout for betrayal, even if his member was telling him differently.  For all intents and purposes Amanda was naked and undressing him.  It wasn’t even real Amanda.  It was elf-Amanda.  Fantasy Amanda.  Masturbation dream Amanda.  That made it easier to let his guard down; easier for him to lust after her. “That’s convenient,” he said.  

 

“Convenient?” the elf said.  “Hardly.  Yes it stops us from killing each other living in those crowded tree cities, but it also makes little things like political rape a reality.”  She stared at him.  “Or didn’t your centaur friends tell you that?”

 

“I would never-!”

 

“I know,” she stopped him.  “That’s why my gambit didn’t work.  That’s why I’m consenting, now.”

From the bottle, she poured out a transparent green ichor and rubbed it on her hands.  “A cleansing oil” she explained. “To prevent infection.”

 

“From what?”

 

“From you,” she glanced at his cock.  “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

 

“I haven’t consented,” Tommy said.

 

“Part of you has.”

 

“Not the part that’s in charge.”

 

Her hand oiled up, reached for his penis.  “Are you sure?”

 

Quicker than even an elven eye could perceive, Tommy reached down and grabbed her wrist.  “What’s in it for me?”

 

The elf laughed.  It was like Amanda’s laugh when she was trying to flirt with a guy.  Tommy had never heard that noise directed at him.  “Me, of course.”

 

“I could just kill you,” he said.  “Like a hydragon.  Like the dwarves want me to do.”

 

“You shouldn’t though. And you feel that.  That’s what I’m finding strangely attractive about you.”  She leaned to him and Tommy felt his heart rate double.  Her naked breasts were directly pushed up against him.  Only the barest of spaces separated his fully erect penis from her body.   “I want to couple with you, Tommy Dean.  You’d be a good friend to me. A very good friend.”

 

Feeling stronger than he ever did, Tommy repeated himself.  “What’s in it for me?”  His free hand reached down and grabbed her other wrist.  This was too good to be true.  He couldn’t chance it.

 

Softly, sweetly, seductively, she whispered to him.  “I have the face of your unrequited love,” she said.  “Her body, too.”  Tommy shuddered in a moment of ecstacy as she blew lightly into his ear.  “What gives me pleasure should give her pleasure too, yes?”

 

Tommy didn’t speak it aloud, but it did make sense.

 

“So couple with me,” she whispered.  “Lay with me and I will tell you what I like and what I don’t.  Then when couple with her...”  She let the rest of the thought finish itself in Tommy’s head.

 

Tommy felt his face flush.  “I’ve never...I mean…” this was so much more difficult than just fighting monsters.  “You’d be my first.”

 

“Not your first,” Ghilanna whispered to him in Amanda’s voice.  “Never your first.  Your lady love will be your first.  I’m just your proving ground, m’lord.”

 

That did it.  Those last words sealed the deal.  He released her wrists and allowed her to grab his shaft and rub her oily hands all over his throbbing member and tickle his balls.  A warmth came to his loins and a smell of pleasant flowers mingled with the sweat accumulated in the armor.  Baby oil?  Was this stuff baby oil?  Elven baby oil?

 

It was strange having part of his body feel so warm while the rest of him remained the same.  Strange but good, and the smell coming off the oil only enhanced his lust.   The elf moved her hands up to his shoulders and moved in pressing all of her body against his.  “Where shall we couple, m’lord?  I know the bed is off limits but-”

 

“No it isn’t,” Tommy said.  Moving the elf queen to the side, Tommy raised his foot up and then plunged it back down into the stone floor.  He drove his foot into the ground heel first and at an angle.  The floor shook and rumbled, as a massive crack traveled the length from his foot until it disappeared beneath the rug under her bed.  “Circle’s broken.  Useless now.  That’s how it works, right?” 

 

Ghilanna gasped.  “You could have done that anytime.”  It wasn’t a question.

 

“Yup.”

 

“But you didn’t…”

“Nope.  I would never.”

 

Her smile, Amanda’s smile, was big and bright.  Genuine.  Tommy was positive he hadn’ seen that kind of smile from a girl directed at him in a long time, well before middle school.  “Take me,” she said. “Take me now.”

 

Without waiting he lifted her and gently tossed her onto the bed.  A moment later, he was on top of her, kissing her neck as she wrapped her legs around him and ran her hands down his back.  Their moaning became a song right before she grabbed his head and pulled him in for their first kiss.

 

His tongue entered her mouth clumsily, inexperienced.  Elves liked mint leaves apparently.  He broke off the kiss so that he could go back to her neck.  “Oh! Not so hard,” she panted as he sunk his teeth into her neck.  “Mark me,” she told him.  “Mark me, but be gentle.  I’m a peach, not an apple.”  

 

Tommy did as she said, nibbling at her and sucking gently at her flesh.  Even her flesh had a sweetness to it.  “Like this?” he asked.

 

She reached between them and kept caressing his shaft.  “Yes,” she moaned.  “Yes.  Now get inside me.”  He could feel his heartbeat below his beltline as she commanded him.

Smiling like an idiot, Tommy said the only words that came to mind.  “Yes ma’am.”  He thrusted and bumped, all while peppering her face and neck with tiny, passionate kisses.   He grinded up against her.  Felt his sex press against hers;  felt the lips between her legs on him, but couldn’t quite find the entrance.

 

In that moment, so much of Tom the Titan melted away, and Tommy the virgin was left fumbling around.  Was it bad etiquette to pull back?  Re-aim?  Adjust?  Amanda’s hands (they were Amanda’s hands) grabbed his hair and deep violet elven eyes stared into his.  “Stay with me.  Be here.  With me.” 

 

Tommy wanted to apologize, to say croon and swoon or say something smooth and sexy.  “Help,” his eyes darted downward.  

 

Deep violet eyes followed his and shone with understanding.  Her lets unwrapped themselves and she shimmied beneath him, her hands snaking back down towards his cock.  “Can’t have you lose this yet,” she grinned before stroking them up and down his manhood. How often had Tommy pictured hands just like those doing just this thing?  Even slipping with the oil, it was so much better than what he’d imagined while stroking off on the couch.

 

With a slight grunt she grabbed him and guided him inside her.  Tommy reflexively let out a gasp as something damn near primal awoke inside him.  Tommy had spent his life listening to songs about this.   How could people even write about this?  There were words, but nothing so melodic that Sondheim could realistically write about and convey the meaning.  Even the copious amounts of porn that Tommy had sneaked at the public library hadn’t prepared him for this.

 

It felt warm and wet and held him deep like a hug.  Gently, slowly at first, he thrust into her.   “Theeeeere we go,” Amanda’s voice cooed up at him.  “Found you.”  Tommy was beyond words.  Tommy was beyond breathing through his nose.  

 

He was doing it!  He was doing it!  Steadying himself, he started to bump and grind with her as she laid backed and closed her eyes, moaning.  Her moaning only made him go faster until the two of them were skidding by inches across the bed.  “Gently…” she whispered.  “Gently, my love.”

 

Tommy slowed his thrusting and used less force.  This wasn’t beating off.  He had to worry about someone else besides him.  Their breathing started to sync up and her hands wandered back and began to gently pinch and caress his ears.  “Such curious, lovely round ears,” she said.  Her moans had started to sound more like the purring of a tiger.

In and out, in and out; like waves gently lapping on the beach they were.  A coupling.  Not a race. A moment of shared vulnerability.  “If you want you can stare at my breasts.  Touch them if you like”  Tommy felt himself almost happy-cry at the permission.  He’d been staring at her nipples already.  

 

Steading himself on his left hand, Tommy reached out with his right so he could cup and tease and pinch at her nipples, a kid in a candy store.  Oh if only he’d been a giraffe, but he couldn’t keep his balance; he'd tease one breast while mouthing on the other.  Just thinking about it made him thrust a little harder, a little deeper.

 

His companion seemed to read his mind.  “A moment,” she said, pulling herself away from him.  He had to resist the desire to wine as he slid out of her and his cock felt cold open air. Disentangling her legs from his, she laid father back and lifted them up over her head, almost like a toddler mid-change.  “Try it now.”

 

He entered into her the second time, feeling a kind of strange relief even as a different kind of tension doubled over inside him.  Her ankles rested on his shoulders this time and he shifted more of his weight onto his knees.

 

On instinct, he sat back onto his ankles, grabbed her thighs and pulled her in closer, eliciting a gasp of surprise.  Her fingers reached out and intertwined with his, helping him to keep balance.. “You like?” she asked.

 

“I like...I like..” he stuttered and blushed.  He squeezed her hands.  Maybe it was just nerves, but he heard himself giggle slightly.

She squeezed back. “I like it too, let yourself enjoy it.” 

Faster then.  Faster and faster.  Something was building inside of him.  There was an art in this, Tommy realized.  A mixture of passion and control.  A balance.  Faster.  Faster.  Yes!

 

“Yes!  That’s it…” she whispered.  “Love me.  Love me like you were meant to.”  She pulled his hands closer to her chest, unlacing her fingers from his so that he could fully cup her bosom with both hands.  “Bend me.  I won’t break.”

 

Tommy leaned in further putting more of his weight on her so that he could feel more of her.  Even faster. Even harder. Tease her.  Pinch her.  Thrust into her harder and harder.  “OOOOOOH!” she moaned.   A mean streak flashed through him, and he vaguely wished her hair was in pigtails so he could pull one.  Just vaguely.  But the thought was there.

 

“Ready?”  

 

He nodded.  

 

“Then finish it.”

 

The waves on the beach became a stormy sea as he let himself go. He  forgot rhythm.  He forgot pace and gentleness.  For a split second, Tommy just forgot her as a person.  She was just the pretty thing that made him feel warm and wet and squishy and made nice noises when he entered and wiggled around inside her.  All that existed in the universe in that moment was him.

 

And then he exploded.

 

He throbbed and pulsed as the last of him squirted out uncontrollably, and the very air of Malacus seemed to take on a different hue that had nothing to do with the position of the sun.   With a groan of satisfaction, he rolled off the elf, panting.

 

She rolled over onto him, showering him with kisses, each peck a little firework to accompany the grand explosion in his soul.  It wasn’t everyday someone got to lose their virginity to an elf.  “Well done, oh childe,” she whispered to him.  “Well done.”

“Thank you,” he said.  “Thank you so much.”
 

“Of course, my consort.  My king.”  She rolled off his chest and onto her back. She spread her legs again and started fingering herself.  “Now suckle on me as I finish.”

[Personalias]

Chapter 16:  Curious

BONG! BONG! BONG!

Katlynn woke up in a fog.  Literally.  Her entire room was filled with a thick, unpierceable, soupy mist.  For a moment she was positive she was about to die.  House fire.  Inferno.   The screams of people burning alive and the crackling protests of cheap wood set ablaze.

This is how I die.

No heat, though.  No acrid stench.  No sizzling, flesh or otherwise.  Just mist.  Katlynn shook the cobwebs out of her head and rubbed her eyes, thinking that this might be some kind of trick of the dark.  

When she opened them again, she caught the briefest glimpse of the smoky stuff retreating; actually retreating under her door.  The heck?  Peeling back her pink comforter, Katlynn slid out of her bed and walked to her door.  

Her bedroom light was on before she opened the door into the living area.  That hesitation cost her seeing where the mist had gone, (assuming there had been mist) but the added light helped her catch a small detail.  She caught a glimpse of a shadow, just behind the old grandfather clock.    

“Hello?” she whisper-called into the darkness.  “Anybody there?”  Breath held, she walked out and towards the couch, nightgown flowing gently behind her.  Please don’t be a burglar.  Please don’t be a stray cat.  Actually a stray cat might be neat; Mom would have to let them keep it.  How would a cat get in here anyways?

She exhaled when she finally reached the couch.  “Tommy?”  Her brother didn’t stir.  Her hand shook his shoulder.  “Tommy, get up.”

“Huh?” Tommy said, sounding sleepy.  He let out a loud, almost cartoonish yawn.  “Oh.  Hey sis.  Is it time for school?”

Her eyes still not fully adjusted to being awake,  Katlynn had to squint to make out the time on the microwave. “It’s a little after midnight,” she said.  “What are you doing on the couch?”

Tommy didn’t move.  “Tonight’s my night for it,” he said.  “Remember?”

If she hadn’t been so sleepy, Katlynn might have laughed.  Instead she was just confused.  “Night for what?”

“Sleeping on the couch.”

It was all she could do to  just shake her head. “Okay,” Katlynn said.  “I think you’ve been sleepwalking buddy.”

“Buddy?”  That seemed to wake him up.  

“Come on,” she said.  “Go to bed.”  Liking a zombie, her brother shambled off the couch and started dragging his feet with her behind him.  The only problem was he was going to the wrong room.  She grabbed him by the shoulders.  “Wrong room,” she told him before steering him in the right direction.

“Wrong room?” Tommy echoed as she steered him towards his own bedroom.  

Katlynn pushed him a little so he’d walk faster.  “We haven’t shared beds since we were little, remember?”  She walked ahead of him and drew back his Spider-Man bed sheets.  “In ya go, little guy.”

Tommy stopped and looked up to her. “Little…?” He said, his eyes still squinting.  “I’m…”  He stopped and looked at her.  Even in the darkness of his room, she could tell he was confused based on his posture.  His gaze started at her feet and then traveled all the way up her body until he’d just made eye contact with her and kept going.

“What?” Katlynn yawned

“Bigger than you...?”  Another comment that would have gotten at least a giggle if not for how sleepy she was.  He was, too.   Otherwise Tommy would never have thought he was taller than her.  She was a few minutes older and a few inches taller.  That’s how it’d always been.

“Y’know what?” he said, climbing into bed.  “Never mind.  I’ll figure this out later.”

“Deal,” she said.  “I’m gonna make fun of you for sleepwalking tomorrow, too.”

“Okay,” he said.  “Whatever.”  He was snoring before she left his room. 

 Great.  Now he was sleepwalking.  At least the bed was dry when he got back under the covers.  Tomorrow morning?  Fifty-fifty shot.  Thankfully her little twin had gotten good enough to where he could do the laundry himself; even if Mom still helped with making the bed.
 

[Personalias]

Chapter 17: Unexpected Side Effects

Good mornin', good mornin'!
We've danced the whole night through,
good mornin', good mornin' to you.

Good mornin', good mornin'!
It's great to stay up late,
good mornin', good mornin' to you.

Tommy woke up horny.  Any dreams he’d been having were paused and forgotten before he’d managed to open his eyes; as were memories of the night before.  Strange.  He’d remembered having sex with the elf that looked suspiciously like  Amanda, (did it count as losing one’s virginity if it was done to a member of a completely different species?), and he remembered getting back into his armor and leaving for the way back home.  After that? Nothing.

He was in the spare bedroom.  The firm mattress under his back and nice comfy pillow under his head were enough to confirm that.  Weird.  He’d claimed the couch that night.  Whatever.  Spare bedroom meant a closed door meant privacy.  

Tommy slithered his hand underneath the sheets and went to pleasure himself.  His hand stopped at his belly button.  Why were the sheets so clammy and clingy?  Tommy opened his eyes and sat up.  His Spider-Man bed sheets were soaked.  He’d wet the bed, again.

A bit of static, like a record scratching or nails on a chalkboard, sounded off in Tommy’s brain.  This wasn’t his room.  Tommy didn’t have a room.  The heck was going on?   Like soggy pancakes, Tommy peeled the sheets off his bed and swung his feet over the side to stand up.

This was not his room.  This was not normal.  Instead of the plain white of the apartment, light blue paint covered the walls, with posters of different comic book characters punctuating blank spaces.    A full dresser was to one side, super hero action figures taking up the counter space. An open walk- in closet was on the other side.  
A wicker clothes hamper by the door waited for him.  Tommy looked down at himself.  His silk pajama bottoms were soaked from the belly button to the knee.  Tommy had been kidnapped.  Kidnapped and forced to wet the bed.  That was the only logical explanation.

At the head, the sun was just starting to crest and bring light through a window. 

A window!

Tommy hopped up on the bed and peered out, hoping to get some kind of clue as to where he was.   Knocking the pillow aside, he climbed up onto the bed and leaned forward, balancing himself on the headboard.  Incredibly enough, it was the Forrest Luxury apartments parking lot.  The view wasn’t grand, but he’d recognize the paint job of the neighboring building anywhere.  One brick still had a daring “X” scribbled across it from five years ago when Tommy had thought to try his hand at teenage rebellion and found that he had neither the artistic inclinations nor the idiotic brand of bravery required to do grafitti. 

“Morning, Tommy,” a voice called cheerily from behind him.  “Time to get up.”

Someone had opened the door behind him.  Tommy turned around.  “Mom?!”

“Off the bed, cupcake.  Beds are for sleeping, not jumping.”

It was Mary Dean. Only it wasn’t.  Since at least fifth grade, Mary Dean didn’t exist before 11:30 AM.  From the moment Tom and Katlynn had been old enough to walk themselves to the bus stop(or old enough so Mary didn’t worry about child services being called) it had been the kids’ job to get themselves to and from school.  Mary slept in.

Tom scrambled off the bed, still confused.  “Mom?”

“Yes, Tommy?”

“I wet the bed.”

Mom spared a look at Tommy’s soaked PJ’s. “I know.  Go shower.  Go get cleaned up or you’ll miss school.”

School? Shower?  Mom was taking this surprisingly well.  “But I woke up here,” he tried to explain.  “But I didn’t go to sleep here.”

“Mmmhmmm…”   Mom wasn’t even looking at him.  She was stripping the sheets off the bed.  “Katlynn told me she found you sleeping on the couch.  Nightmares?”

Such casual concern bothered Tommy.  “No...”

“Did you remember to go pee-pee before you went to bed?”
“What?  Uh. Yeah?”

Mom threw the wet sheets into a crumpled pile by the hamper..  There was a waterproof mattress cover beneath, Tommy observed.  “Did Katlynn take you to the bathroom when she woke you up on the couch.”

The hell? “No?!”  Tommy felt a burn of embarrassment flush his cheeks.

“At least she got you off the couch.” Tommy’s mother felt the mattress cover and gave a disappointed sigh. “Soaked through. You really did a number on these, big boy.  That’s unlike you.”  It really was!  She took off the mattress protector and threw it onto the pile with the wet sheets.  She turned and faced Tommy as he remained frozen in place, her eyes zoning in like a sniper’s laser to his soaked pajama bottoms.

“What…?” Tommy yelped.  “I...I peed.  I told you…”

“Tommy,” Mom said; a hint of warning in her voice, “Did you remember to wear your bedtime undies?”

“Bedtime...undies?”

Mom crossed her arms and tapped her foot.  “Tommy…”

He had no idea what Mom was talking about.  No sense in lying.  He couldn’t lie when he had no clue what was being discussed. “Um...no?”    

“I can tell,” Mom said. She walked over and scooped up the soiled sheets.  “If you’re not going to wear your bedtime undies, we’re going to have to go back to Goodnites.”

“Goodnites?”  Tommy said.  “Bedtime undies?”  He felt like he’d just tuned into a Season 5 episode of a very complex and convoluted serialized television drama: Lots of strange character development and references to past events that he’d no inkling of.  This was like coming into Cats just after intermission.  (Bad example.  Cats was confusing as hell anyway)

“I know you don’t like them, but it’s easier for me to wash one thing than to wash all of this.” She bounced the soiled sheets in her arm. 

“I...I...I…”

“Maybe when you can go a whole week without any accidents we can talk about your regular undies” Mom said, walking out the bedroom door.  “But please honey.  For me.”

Tommy didn’t know what else to say.  So instead he just said,  “Yes, ma’am.”

“And make sure to throw your jammies in the wash once you’re out of the shower,” Mom called back.  “No leaving them on the floor or in your hamper.”
“Yes, ma’am.”  Not knowing what else to do Tommy followed his mother out into the living room, his head on a swivel like a meerkat looking for predators.  The fudge was going on?  Same living room...except not.

While he couldn’t claim to have the greatest spatial memory, he’d spent enough time in this apartment to notice even the slightest differences. The differences were not slight. The place was clean.  Darn near spotless.  The usual pile of neatly folded clothes were off the coffee table and presumably in drawers and closets that hadn’t existed last night. 

The living room was bigger too.  Not much bigger, but big enough for him to notice.  Big enough to somehow create space enough for a separate room between his Mother’s master bedroom and the spare that Tommy could have sworn he and his sister swapped on alternating nights.  The apartment was now a 3 Bedroom 1 Bath, and Tommy didn’t know what to make of that.

From what he supposed was his door he did a u-turn and peeked into what used to be the spare bedroom.  Nope.  It was Katlynn’s room, now:  Pink walls.  BTS Posters.  Carefully made bed with a memory board above it and a shelf with a few little collectibles that had passed on from toys to.  Definitely Katlynn’s room.  They’d never been able to take any real ownership of the spare room, but now Katlynn’s looked like what he imagined any teenage girl’s room to look like.  And the room he’d woken up in looked like it was meant for a boy his age...kind of.

Tom about faced and watched as his mother opened a sliding slatted door.  Right next to the kitchen area, there was now a tiny alcove that fit a washer and dryer.  No more trips to the laundromat. He watched as his mother reached for a laundry pod from off a wire shelf and tossed it in.  “Everything’s good to go.  Get showered.”

Still in his wet pajamas Tom slinked to the bathroom.  The door opened and his sister slid out, making room for him to get by.  “Hey, Tommy.”

Tommy looked up at her and alarm bells rang out in his brain.  He was having to look up to his sister.  She wasn’t towering over him, but normally he had a couple inches on her.  He’d always had the slight height advantage ever since he’d had that ‘grown spurt’ back in ninth grade.  Now the ratio was reversed.  Either Katlynn had mysteriously sprouted several inches or...

“You’re taller than me...” he said.

“Yeah,” she agreed.  “Go get in the shower.”  

Tommy felt numb. “I wet my bed.”

“Yeah,” his sister said.  “Go get showered.”  She gave him a gentle nudge towards the bathroom.  “You can talk to me when you’re clean and in dry clothes.”

Something was off.  Not only was Katlynn taller, but she wasn’t making fun of his accident.  Even at her most merciful she’d at least razz him a little bit.  “You’re not gonna mess with me about it?”

Katlynn seemed confused.  “Why would I?”

“I…”  Tommy was at a complete lost for words.  His family was acting like this was normal, and it wasn’t.  (Was it?)  He’d just confessed to his twin that he’d wet himself in his sleep and she’d acted like he’d just told her that the grass was green or that Brigadoon was a boring ass play; (it was).

“Thomas Dean,” his mother called.  “Shower!  Now! I do not want to be late for work because you missed the bus.”

Tommy’s bare feet moved into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.  Even the bathroom looked nicer.  The white tile seemed whiter. The shower rod only flecked with a bit of rust and the curtain clean; the result of use and care instead of neglect.  He stripped down and got in the shower, leaving his piss soaked pajamas in their own puddle.  His ill-gotten Paw Patrol Underwear was nowhere to be seen.  He hadn’t wanted to put the dirty underwear back on, and so left them in Malacus.  

With the time dilation effect, Tom realized too late that he could have washed his clothes and still been back home the next morning.  He’s spent weeks battling alongside the dwarves.  There was literally no reason he couldn’t have stayed for breakfast and laundry with the elves.  Sex does weird things to a man’s mind.

He quickly washed himself, scrubbing himself down with body wash before the hot water had a chance to become tepid and then freezing.  A minute passed and the hot water kept coming out of the showerhead strong.  Another minute and it kept coming.  And another.  And another.

Was the building’s water heater not garbage anymore?  With the increase in hot water, another urge welled up inside him.  He suddenly remembered the feeling that had awoken him from his slumber.  

The sound of the water pouring out of the showerhead created the perfect white noise.  The relatively unchanged bathroom and the blanket of steam gave Tommy a feeling of security through familiarity and a sense of concealment.  It was so warm in here. And wet. And clean.  Time to ruin that last part.

Tommy squirted a bit of Irish Spring into his hand, backed up and steadied himself against the still cool wall on the opposite end of the shower, and started to masturbate. Closing his eyes, he imagined his tryst with Ghilanna; aka Amanda-the-elf.

He replayed it in his head, focusing on.  And then something changed.

Relished memory changed and turned into unexpected fantasy as he closed his eyes and tried to block the memory.  His brain flashed forwarded through the best parts of the lovemaking, turning it into a highlight real of moaning and giggling and thrusting.  

The first time, they’d lain together in quiet and made pledges of loyalty and pillow talks of piece.  Then Tom had gotten in his magical armor and promised to return.  In his mind’s eye, Ghilana stopped him.

“Wait, m’lord,” he mouthed, hearing Amanda’s voice in his head.  “We’re not done.” Tommy bit his bottom lip as he imagined her guiding him back to the bed.  “You’re not clean yet.”

It was too hard to imagine both sides of this imaginary conversation, so Tom just imagined himself muted by his elf concubine’s beauty and tenderness.  It wasn’t hard to do.  

“We must get you clean.  You can not go back to your Earth Realm in these wet and icky training pants.”  Tommy’s hand increased in speed in time with his heart rate.  “I must clean you.”  The cool bathroom wall was now the feather bed back in Malacus.

He imagined her taking out the sweet smelling oil she’d used and rubbing it into his privates.  “This will make it all better.” She whispered.  “Raise your legs, m’lord.”  Tommy wigged his hips and clenched his cheeks as he imagined the elf oiling his bottom.  Irish Spring was starting to smell a lot more like sweet lavender perfume.

The simulacrum took some clean sheets and folded them.  Tommy imagined her slipping them under his bottom and being allowed to lower his legs so she could spread them.  Back in the bathroom, Tommy came, just as he imagined her pulling the front of the sheets over his pelvis.  

“Doesn’t that feel better?” she’d been cooing at him right before the illusion shattered itself.   His sperm shot out at an ark into the open air and mixed with the suds before washing down the shower drain.

Tommy opened his eyes and felt the cold mix of relief, triumph, and the slightest pinch of guilt that typically came post masturbation.  He walked back into the shower’s stream and hosed himself off.  Now it was just a matter of waiting for his penis to calm down so that no one could tell what he’d been up to.

“Hurry up Tommy!”  The sound of his sister’s voice helped him in ways she couldn’t have possibly predicted.  “You heard Mom!”

“I’ll be right out!” Tommy called through the door.  He turned the shower off, water still warm, and reached for a towel.  White and fluffy...not unlike the bedsheets he’d imagined.  Tommy shook his head and forced himself to focus.

He stepped out of the shower and quickly began to dry himself off.  Looking down at himself Tommy felt another odd thing.  No hair.  Not on his arms, nor his legs, nor his pubic area.  He rubbed his chin and felt like he’d already shaved...better than shaved truth be told.  He checked his armpits.  Nothing.  It was like he was auditioning for the swim team.

With the towel, he wiped away the steam in the mirror and confirmed using his reflection what his fingers had already told him as true.  “What in the…?”  Smooth as a baby’s bottom.  All of him.  The only hair Tom had was the stuff on his scalp and his eyebrows. 

He leaned in, close to the mirror.  Normally when he shaved there were still little traces of stubble that he could spot if he stared hard enough.  Nothing.  It wasn’t as if he’d just shaved, it was as if he’d never needed to.

“TICK-TOCK, TOMMY!” Mom called.  “If I’m late for work because you’re taking too long.  We’re going back to Goodnites and baby wipes.”

That was the second time she’d mentioned being late for work.  Since when did Mom have a job outside of trolling flea markets and pawn shops?

Tom wrapped the towel around himself and tied it off.  He picked his soiled pajamas off the bathroom floor and opened the door.  Still dripping with water, he tossed the garments into the washing machine, lowered the lid and started the cycle.

“HURRY!”  Katlynn said, waiting by the door. “Three minutes or I’m going to the bus stop without you, little brother.  That was the Katlynn he knew.  The familiarity eased his mind enough to hustle back to his new room and close the door. 

Tommy dropped the towel and went over to the dresser.  Top drawer.  Last night underwear went in the top drawer, socks went in the drawer underneath.  Tommy opened the long dresser and found some things were universal, even when the universe conspired to rearrange your home for you.

Tommy pulled out the first pair of briefs and felt like the kid who’d busted open the pinata.  They were neither boxers, nor tighty whities.  In Tommy’s hands he held a pair of thick cotton undies, lacking the overlapping fold that men’s underwear had, but with extra material in the front instead, in case Tommy had a slight accident.  Tommy popped them open and looked inside.  The extra padding went down past the crotch and well into the backside. Cloth training pants.

He turned them around.  The bright blue things had a decoration.  Smiling back him with a little puff of smoke coming out of his snack and the words “Toot-toot” was Thomas the Tank Engine.  These weren’t just training pants, but train-ing pants.  

These had to be the nighttime undies that Mommy was referring to.  Still...they were undies.  Tommy stepped into the underwear and shimmied it up his hips.  Tommy had to fight the urge to suck his thumb as his brain registered the thickness of his new underwear.  It was even thicker than the toddler pants he had snuck home yesterday, only now he suspected he didn’t need to be worried about being caught in them.  These weren’t stolen.  These were his.

His underwear.

Tick-tock.  Not much time.  The dresser drawer that had materialized overnight was wider than the one he and Katlynn had been forced to share.  There were technically two top drawers; a left one and a right one.  The left one had the training pants in them; his bedtime underwear.  Just out of curiosity, Tommy opened the right one.

The young man’s eyes could have fallen out of his skull.  Stacks of clear plastic pants were piled into the top right drawer.  One stack had clear elastic waistbands, plastic underwear meant to be pulled over thick training pants in case an accident was not so little.  The other stack had  buttons on the front sides; something to be applied while laying down.  These were the bedwetting pants, meant to be worn underneath his silk pajamas. 

 Meaning the Thomas training pants were his daytime underwear.  He wasn’t even being naughty by wearing them just now.  First slamming the drawers shut, Tommy dug through his wardrobe and stepped into a pair of shorts from the left bottom drawer and some socks from the left middle drawer.  He almost waddled as he hustled into his closet and pulled a shirt over his head.  

He had to sit down to put his shoes one and immediately felt the extra layers of cloth surrounding him when he set down.  It was almost like how he’d imagined the thick layers of bedsheets he’d imagined Ghilanna wrapping around his waist a few minutes ago.  Almost like a…

He blushed at the thought, envisioning himself wrapped up and swaddled.  On the bright side, upon further examination, this new underwear was also better at concealing erections.

They were his.  Malacus had given him more than he could have imagined.  Within twenty four hours, he’d helped a lunch lady, ended a war, made love to a woman, and gotten his very own training pants.  He really was a big boy, he thought to himself.

Tommy stopped and examined himself in his bedroom mirror, another new feature.  He didn’t particularly look like a highschooler.  He had a serious case of babyface, blue shorts and a Superman T-shirt.  At best, this room belonged to an early middle schooler.  At best…and that was not factoring in the padded undergarments that his baggy shorts concealed.  Right now, Tommy Dean looked like either a late blooming middle schooler or a VERY mature and sophisticated preschooler.

And yet...

New bedroom. Clean home with a washer and dryer. Slightly nicer sister.  Mom had a job.  New underwear that Tommy had secretly coveted, now not-so-secret...nor shameful, apparently.  This was the clock’s doing.  There was no other logical explanation.  

But Tommy wasn’t scared by this; not at all.  If this morning was any indication, this was the start of a beautiful day.  All this good stuff, not just for him but his family; that was worth a few inches in height, smoother skin, and needing plastic underwear at bedtime.  

Right?  

Right.

[Personalias]

Chapter 18: School Daze
I’m not that smart
My siblings have been telling me that for years
That I’m not smart
We’re schooled at home
They see who’s bright
It breaks my heart
I’m not that smart

The rest of the morning was no less confusing for Tommy.  On the bus ride to school, almost everyone was at least passingly friendly to him.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hey Tommy.”

“Morning Tommy.”

“How you doin’, dude?”

“Sup Tommy?”

When one has grown used to what can be generously referred to as ‘casual indifference’ at best and ‘near socialized hostility’ at worst; friendly faces, kind words and a generally positive reception start to sound like a foreign language.  Tommy’s peers, he had found, were a generally brooding, cynical, and mean spirited lot otherwise known as teenagers.  

Was this more of Malacus’s magic?

“Why’s everybody being so nice to me?” Tommy asked his sister. “What’s going on?”

Katlynn looked confused.  “What do you mean?” she asked.  “Most people are nice to you.  Are you feeling okay?”  She reached across the aisle and felt his forehead and cheeks like an amateur nurse checking for a fever.  “You’re the one who seems off today.”

Before Tommy could question any further, a familiar face turned around wearing a most unfamiliar expression.  Tommy and seen Cameron smile before; but it had been ages since that smile had been directed towards him.

“Hey Tommy,” she said.  

Tommy looked to Katlynn for advice.  They talked sometimes, or so Tommy had figured.  Katlynn was already looking at her phone.  When had she gotten a phone?  He looked back up at the popular girl  “Hey...Cameron,” he said.

“I saw on T.V. that C.B.S. is doing one of those live musicals next week.  ‘Rent’ I think it’s called?”  There was something odd about her tone; how her voice squeaked up a bit when she was talking to him.

“Yeah,”  Tommy said.  “I’ve seen internet ads in the library.  The original cast is too old for the parts and they couldn’t afford Idina Menzel, but Anthony Rapp will be hosting and there’s rumors that Jesse L. Martin will co-host.”  This was the strangest feeling, yet.  Tommy was talking about something he liked and someone was...listening…?

“Um...who?”  So much for that.

“Um…” Tommy tried to break his geekdom down into manageable chunks.  “The play is about people in their twenties…”  Tommy said.  “The first people to play the parts are middle-aged.  The lady from the Frozen movies played a character, but she’s too expensive now.”

Something was clicking.  Cameron nodded.  “Okay.”

“But one guy who was in the play is in that new Star Trek show.  So he’s kind of famous.  And he’s hosting.”

“Alright.”

“And the guy who plays Flash’s cop buddy-”

The girl’s eyes lit up with recognition.  “Joe?  The dad?  Adopted flash?”

“Yeah, him.”  Tom nodded.  “He was in Rent, too. They might get him to co-host.  Talk to the live audience.  Introduce the show.  Announce commercials and stuff.”

Cameron seemed impressed for some reason. “Wow!” she said.  “You know a lot about it!”  It wasn’t quite the same as being truly impressed, more like when a dog can do an amusing , or when a child is surprisingly well versed in a bit of adult trivia.  

Still looking at her phone, Katlynn said, “He knows a lot about this kind of stuff.  He’s obsessed. That and Spider-Man.  I think if he spent more time practicing his division facts instead of obsessing over this stuff...”  She let the sentence drop off a bit.  Her mouth was closed but her eyes were already apologizing?

“Division facts?”  Tom said.  The heck was that about? “I know my-”

“So are you gonna watch it?” Cameron asked, politely.  

“Hmmm?”

“Rent.”

Tommy clenched his jaw.  “Can’t.”

“Awwwww,” Cameron said.  “Why not?  Grounded?”

“Huh?  No.”

“Past your bedtime?”

“Bedtime?” Tom blanched. “No! I don’t have a T.V.”

Cameron looked bewildered, as if the concept of someone her age not having access to a television were.  Did she really not understand how poor he was?  She’d made fun of him for it enough times.  She looked over Katlynn for confirmation.

Katlynn looked up from her phone to Cameron.  “He’s a little off today,” she said.  “Don’t know why. Just one of those things.  Happens sometimes.”

“Gotcha.”

That was weird.  Tommy had been used to people talking about him like he wasn’t there.  It was a trademark social bullying tactic.  But talking about him with concern?  That was new.  Tommy began to suspect that more than just his physical self had changed overnight.

His suspicions were confirmed in first period Biology. 

 “Bye,” Katlynn said as they approached Ms. Wheeler’s class.  Tommy didn’t think anything of it and followed her in.  They didn’t sit next to each other or talk in class. 

 “Good morning Katlynn,” their Biology teacher said.  “Good morning…” she paused as if searching for his name.  “...Tommy.  Is there something I can help you with?”

Tommy went to his desk and sat down.  “Not at the moment, Ms. Wheeler.”  Bits of giggles tittered at the edge of Tommy’s hearing.  Tommy looked around. Confused.  Why would they be laughing?  Was his fly down?  Could they see his new training pants?  (Impossible, they looked like regular underwear, the part that might be poking out above his shorts, at least.)

“Sorry Ms. Wheeler,” Katlynn said.  For some reason she looked really embarrassed.  “My brother is just very...confused this morning.”

A finger tapped Tommy’s shoulder and he looked up.  “Sup Lil dude?” Trevor Macintosh looked even taller now that Tommy had lost a few inches.

“Leadshoulder!”  Damnit!  Tommy had not meant to say that.  More laughter filled morning air.

Katlynn was between them. “Trevor, I’m so sorry!”

“Naw it’s cool,” Trevor said.  He smiled and ruffled Tommy’s hair, but never took his eyes off Katelyn.  “It’s kind of his nickname for me.  He saw me slam into a guy at football practice one time and it kind of stuck.”

That wasn’t true.  None of that was true.  Nevertheless, it kept Tommy out of trouble so he nodded anyway.  

“Ahem.” Ms. Wheeler interrupted.  “Do you mind? I have a lesson to teach.”  She didn’t look to Tommy, but to Katlynn.  It was an expectant look as if she’d done something wrong and needed to fix it, pronto.

“Sorry Ma’am,” Katlynn said.  She grabbed Tommy by the arm.  “Come on, Tommy.”

Tommy found himself yanked out of his desk and to his feet.  “Where are we going?” 

“Out,” Katlynn said.  Katlynn didn’t look pleased. Tommy hadn’t felt this disoriented since he’d started vomiting up mana pool water onto the hooves of a certain centaur.  What had he done?  Where were they going?  Why was he in trouble?  

He hadn’t done anything wrong.  He was a good a boy!  A good boy!  Emotions spiraling out of control, Tommy felt his breathing hasten to the point of hyperventilation.  A knot was forming in his throat.  He couldn’t breathe!

It was Trevor that de-escalated things. He put his hand on Katlynn’s arm. “I got this,” he told Katlynn.  “Mrs. Gee, right?”

Katlynn nodded “Yeah.  Thanks.”  She let go of Tommy.

“Come on Little dude,”  he said.   “I’ll take you to class.”  Disoriented and confused, Tommy followed the bigger kid out of first period Biology and into the hallway.  

“What’s going on?”  Tommy asked, when out of the Hallways.

“Nothing much,” Trevor said.  He walked just ahead of Tommy, and while he didn’t hold Tommy’s hand, he kept looking back every couple of steps as if he was afraid the shorter man would fall behind or wander off.  “You just got a little lost.  No big deal.  It happens.  This is a big school.”
Not that big.  Not big enough for anyone who’d been there more than a week to get lost in. But everyone seemed to think that Tommy was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Maybe with his new room and new clothes, Tommy had gotten himself a new schedule
  All Tommy could say was say “Oh...okay.”  

After they turned the second corner, Trevor stopped looking back.  That’s when Tommy started sucking on his thumb for comfort.  He’d take it out when they got there, even though he had no idea where there was.

[StoneRiver76]

This is really good!  I couldn't stop reading, almost like actually reading the Narian Series that the orginal author wrote!

[Personalias]

Chapter 19 Late to the party...

 

Charlie was standing on the toy box so he could get a better look out the daycare’s one-way window.  He loved people watching first thing in the morning:  The suck ups and the social feebs running to class as soon as the first period bell rang; the panicked last-minute good-bye kisses from young couples that didn’t have the same class together; the loud and lazy stroll and chatter that the future deadbeats who were ‘too cool’ to show up to class quietly and on time; the consternation of tired and overworked teachers trying to maintain order without any kind of real authority to back them up.

Charlie couldn’t hear the bells, of course. Nor the chatter.  Nor the kisses.  Nor the blustering of teachers.  Whatever magic kept the daycare hidden from the general populace, (and it was magic, Charlie had long accepted that), also made the walls soundproof.

But places like Scrumpton had a rhythm to them that persisted from day to day.  Charlie might not be able to read a clock anymore, but he’d learned to tell the time based on what kids were running by the window.   Funny (but not surprising) how none of the other kids ever saw what he saw.  Only limitation to this method was that Summers dragged by like a sumbitch.

“Charlie,” a voice called.  “Time to stop looking out the window and come to Circle Time.”

Charlie waved the teacher-lady off.  “Just a second,” he grunted.  Someone new was coming down the hall.  A late comer.  Tall guy.  Tough build.  Probably a football player.  That was odd.  The dumbest of the dumb jocks had already sauntered into their remedial math and reading classes.

“Are you pooping?” the grown-up asked.  Charlie didn’t even bother learning their names anymore.

“No…”   Yes he was pooping, but that’s not why he was stalling.  He could empty this morning’s oatmeal into his pants anywhere.  He’d gotten more than just used to it.  He’d pooped during Circle Time on many occasions.  Usually they let him finish the shapes song before he was ushered off to be changed.
 

“I think someone’s getting whiney because they need a change.”

 

Out of habit, Charlie stomped his feet, but kept his gaze steady.  The big lug was just about to walk out of his field of vision. “I wannnaaaaa waaaaatch!” Silently he cursed himself for saying it.  He loved playing this game, though.  Too late to turn back.  Might as well enjoy it.

As they tended to do, the grown-up ignored Charlie’s whining and did what she wanted to do anyways.  Charlie had to lean up against the glass to keep his balance as two fingers hooked into the back of his shorts and pulled the back of his diaper open.  Charlie gasped, feeling the front of his diaper tighten a bit, and not just because the back was being pulled on.

 

“Thought so,” the teacher lady said.  “Baby made a boom-boom.”  One of the advantages of being in Charlie’s position was that he rarely got to realize how silly he looked, objectively speaking.  He popped his thumb into his mouth and started sucking on it as his waistband was snapped back into place allowing the mess in his pants to settle.  

 

Charlie immediately lost that advantage as the teacher lady grabbed his hand to lead him over to the changing table.  Some ridiculous looking kid walked past the window.  He was short, the windows just below shoulder height for him, so that Charlie could see him through the window. Just like Charlie, the kid was going to town on his thumb.

Realizing how silly he looked, Charlie took his thumb back out and wiped it on his shirt.  The hell was that kid doing sucking his thumb?  Was he a nail biter or some kind of mama’s boy?  He resisted the tug of the grown-up wanting to change his diaper so he could just a second longer to ruminate on this.

The moment was all that was needed.  As the kid passed by, Charlie craned his neck and saw a flash of blue undies with red trim poking out the back.  That brought back memories; memories of Thomas the Tank Engine training pants.

Thumb sucking.  Training pants.  Baggy shorts.  Late for class and looking confused as hell.  

 

“Come on Charlie,” the teacher lady said.  She picked him up, pressing the mess up against him and spreading it around.  Charlie was too stunned to enjoy it this time.  Maybe later. “Let’s get you nice and clean.”

“See ya soon,” Charlie whispered to the window as he was carried away to have his body laid down, his pants pulled off, his legs lifted up, and his ass wiped.

 

[Personalias]

Chapter 20: Out to Lunch

What is this feeling

So sudden and new?

I felt the moment

I laid eyes on you

My pulse is rushing

My head is reeling

My face is flushing

What is this feeling?

Fervid as a flame

Does it have a name?
 

By lunch time, Tommy was getting ready to yank his eyelids out.  The fudge was going on?  His entire class schedule was upside down, and he’d ended up in classes he didn’t even recognize with teachers he’d never met before.

 

Remedial Science with Mrs. Gee; Miss Ell had Remedial Social Studies; and  Remedial Language Arts in Mr. Vee’s class.  He’d gone from being a middle of the road student, to being in all the dumb kid classes!  And by all that was right and good, how dumb did you have to be to reach eighteen years of age and not know that there were supposed to be three branches of government?!  That was elementary level- maybe middle school- trivia at best.

 

Even the teacher’s names were dumbed down.  Mrs. Ell’s last name was Lyons.  Mr. Vee was really Mr. Vinkman.  Mrs. Gee...okay, that was a legitimate nickname. Having to call on Mrs. Gronkowskovich constantly might be a mouthful.

 

But that was beside the point!  This was wrong!  Tommy shouldn’t be in the remedial classes with the dumb kids!  He didn’t need things like accommodations, or modifications, or handicaps, or extra help.  

 

 He already knew all this stuff! He knew about food chains and producers and consumers, (not to mention apex predators).   He knew that congress had two houses (otherwise known as “bicameral legislature”)  He knew that Animal Farm was an allegory for the Russian Revolution (and what an allegory was). 

 

What Tommy didn’t know is why he was in these classes, and why no one seemed surprised to see him there.

“Good morning, Tommy,” Mrs. Gee had greeted him with a smile and a little-too-sunny disposition.  “Did you get lost again?”

 

“Yes ma’am,” Trevor had answered for him.

 

“That’s okay,” she’d said.  “These things happen.”  

 

And Tommy had been forced to thank Trevor and send him back on his way.  Kids that Tommy didn’t know beyond fleeting glimpses in the cafeteria greeted him like they were old comrades, and Tommy was too shell-shocked to argue with them.

 

All morning had been a kind of drudgery:  Colorful worksheets about the food chain, first period.  Filling out a diagram of the U.S. government and their jobs on the most basic levels and a multiple choice quiz based on stuff that the teacher had just talked about during second period. Third period was illustrating a scene from Orwell and providing the appropriate matching text that the drawing was based on.

 

 Instead of being bored by stuff that was too dry and complex, Tommy was being bored by stuff he had long ago mastered.  This was stupid; practically baby stuff.  The only thing he didn’t know was what was what new classroom to shuttle off to, but a new-old classmate would always take his hand and lead him in the right-wrong direction.

 

“This way, Tommy.”

 

“Wrong way, Tommy.’

Don’t get lost, Tommy.”

His new-old teachers seemed amazed and perplexed, too.

 

“Way to go Tommy Boy!”

 

“Tommy is having a really good day, today!”

Mr. Vee offered him a sticker and a tiny candy bar just before lunch.  If only they’d been perplexed about why he needed to be in remedial Special Ed. Classes.

 

At least his lunch period was the same.  Tommy sat by himself stewing over a plate of macaroni and cheese, trying to make sense of this brave new world that he’d awoken into and what people it had in it.” 

 

He was aware of Amanda’s presence before she announced herself.  He knew her by the silhouette of her shadow hovering behind him.  He’d watched that shapely figure too many times to not recognize it.  “Hey, Tommy.”

 

“Hey, Amanda.”  Tommy didn’t look up.  “Why are you eating alone?”

 

“I always eat alone,” Tommy said.

 

“He was like this on the bus.”  Great. Cameron was here, too.  “He’s off today.”

Amanda slid up next to him.  Cameron took the other side.  On any other day but today, he would have loved being sandwiched between these two. “Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?”  Tommy looked where she pointed and saw the kids from the different remedial classes eating lunch together.

 

“Those aren’t my friends,” he told them.  

 

“I see what you mean.”  Amanda was talking over his head to Cameron.  “Really off.  Sick?”

 

Cameron shook her head.  “I saw Katlynn feel his forehead.  No fever.”  Cameron looked at Tommy.  “Do you want to talk about plays and stuff?  Like on the bus?”  Tommy stewed, unsure of what to say.  “Maybe Spider-Man?  You really like Spider-Man, don’t you?”

 

That’s where Tommy recognized that tone!  Duh!  It was the same tone that grown-ups...adults...used when trying to talk to little kids.  Do you like cartoons?  What cartoons do you like?  Spider-Man?

 

Tommy looked at Cameron.  “Why are you patronizing me?”

 

The girls stifled a laugh as if they’d been caught off guard.  “Wow,” Cameron said.  “How do you know that word?”

 

“How old do you think I am?”  Tommy asked, heart pounding.

 

“Eighteen,” Cameron said.  “Just like your big sister.”

Tommy stood up from the table, so angry he was ready to flip his tray and spill macaroni everywhere. “We’re twins!  Just because she was born a few minutes before me doesn’t matter THAT much!”

“It’s just a joke, sheesh.”  Belittling.  Not listening.  Emotionally tone def.  That was a side of Cameron that Tommy was used to.

 

Tommy didn’t look at them, either of them.  He just leaned forward, weight on his hands and panted.  Somehow he’d gone to the puny poor loser to the stupid kid that everybody felt sorry for.  He’d soared to new heights in Malacus and had plummeted even further as a result. 

“Quit being such a B-I-T-C-H, Cameron.”  Surprisingly, that came from Amanda.  That was unexpected. “Tommy’s sensitive.”  Tommy had never heard himself referred to as sensitive; not in a non-insulting way that is.

 

“Thanks.”  Tommy was still staring off, still boiling inside.
 

“Welcome.”  The girls got up to leave.  “Take care, cutie.”  She kissed him on the cheek.  It was nothing. A chaste peck, but Tommy shuddered at the feeling of her lips on his flesh.

 

His bladder did too.  The front of his Thomas the Tank Engine suddenly warmed and the wet spot spread down and out, quickly saturating and then spreading down the thick padding in his underwear.  Quickly his bladder muscles clamped down and stopped the stream, but it was too late. He'd wet his pants in front of the two hottest girls in his class.

 

As if in reflex, his elbows bent and arms retracted up his size, seizing up and making his posture resemble a T-rex.  His knees locked and his teeth gritted.  He looked down to his shorts, fearing the worst.  The good news was that there.  The training pants had done their job.  The bad news was that they’d had to do their job in the first place.  That, and Tommy had the distinct feeling that if he sat down, he’d wring out some of the soaked up piss and end up with puddle marks on the inside bleeding out.  Thomas the Tank Engine had only delayed the inevitable.

 

“Uh-oh,” Cameron said.  “I’ve seen this look before.”

 

“What?” Amanda asked.  They were talking over him again.  

 

Tommy couldn’t quite understand them as they whispered, literally, behind his back, but what Cameron said sounded a lot like ‘fetish prance’.

“Tommy? Buddy?”  Cameron asked.  “Do you need Katlynn?”  Her tone was soft and gentle, a grown-up trying not to make a little kid cry.  Katlynn didn’t have this lunch, and she’d never let him live this down if she knew; or she’d already know and accept it as normal.  Poor stupid Tommy wetting his training pants again.  Tommy didn’t know which he dreaded more.  “Do you need me to go get you the nurse?  Would you like that Tommy?”

 

Amanda’s hand  grabbed Tommy’s. “ Ugh. God,” she groaned. “You’re such a wuss, Cameron. I’ll take him.  Come on, Tommy.”  She pulled and Tommy followed.

 

All thought left Tommy’s brain for a moment.  He was holding hands with Amanda Monroe!  She slowed down and let him catch up to her, walking side by side.  She was holding hands and walking with him!

Passersby were noticing, too.

 

“Hey, Tommy!  Hey, Amanda!”

 

“Hey, Amanda! Hey, Tommy!”

 

“Sup, Tommy? Hi, Amanda!”

 

The girl of his dreams waved and said hi to everyone as she guided him towards the clinic.  She was walking with him AND being seen with him.  It was the smallest, simplest thing, but it was more than Tommy had ever rationally dreamed of.  He barely felt the cooling wetness or the odd not-quite sloshing sensation as he practically waddled through the courtyard and hallways in his wet trainers. He was too busy feeling the heat surge through his entire being.

He’d gotten his crush to finally notice him and treat him as something other than a disgusting inconvenience... and all he had to do was wet his pants right in front of her.

 

Worth it.

 

Tommy was the first to step past the threshold; Amanda held the door open for him.  “Tommy needs um...help,” she said.

The nurse sighed.  “Again, Tommy?”

 

He blushed.  “Yeah…?”

“See you later, Tommy.  I’m gonna go finish my lunch.”  And just like that, she was gone.  Still worth it.  Still totally worth it.

 

The nurse got up and opened a closet. From the closet she pulled out a ziplock bag, the words “T. Dean” written on it in black permanent marker.  She took a thick pair of underwear and tossed it to Tommy.  “Here ya go, kiddo.”  A plastic grocery bag soon followed. 

 

The underwear was thick and padded, just like his training pants; only not decorated...and not soaked with pee.  Tommy looked at the pair of plain white trainers and back up to the nurse. “What now?”

“Now,” the nurse said, “you get your butt in that bathroom and change your underwear.  You’re a big boy.”

[Personalias]

Chapter 21:  Afternoon Delight

That face, that face

That dangerous face

I mustn't be unwise

Those lips, that nose, those eyes

Could lead to my demise

That face, that face

That marvelous face

I never should begin

Those cheeks, that neck, that chin

 

The rest of the school day was a blur of too simple classes, too simple worksheets, and too simple curriculum.  Yet Tommy felt a kind of radiance beneath his skin the rest of his day.  He couldn’t stop thinking about his lunchtime accident and how Amanda held his hand all the way to the nurse’s office. It was easy to multitask when the work was so easy.   Even knowing that a gallon ziplock filled with his piss soaked underwear was now crammed into his backpack couldn’t diminish.

 

Tommy felt he was in a kind of waking dream, his mind never quite where his body was.  How precious that bit of kindness had been to him, that bit of sympathy from someone who had so recently been indifferent to him at best.  To Tommy it was more intoxicating than a thousand days as the conquering hero god king of Malacus.  Being a few inches shorter, a few hairs smoother, and a pair of training pants wetter was well worth the price.

 

The boy still felt drunk on that feeling during the bus ride home.  “Tommy,” his sister called.  “Tommy, it’s time to go.  We’re home.”   Tommy blinked back to the present and stared at Katlynn as if she were a newly respawning hydragon.  

 

“Huh?”

Katlynn took his hand and guided him to his feet.  “We’re home.  This is our stop.”  Tommy looked out the window and saw the bus stop, just a short walk away from Forrest Luxury Apartments.  

 

Tommy had to tilt his head upward slightly to look his twin in the eye.  That was going to take some getting used to.  “Oh yeah.  My bad.”  He started down the center aisle while the bus driver patiently waited for them.  Everyone had been more patient with him today.  Friendlier too. 

 

The kids who’d greeted him when he’d gotten on the bus were still there, now waving goodbye to him.

 

“Bye Tommy.”

 

“See ya, Tommy.”

 

“Later Tommy.” 

 

It was a little more bittersweet than it was this morning for young master Dean.  He now realized that their friendliness came from a place of sympathy.  It was easy to be nice to the dumb kid, and that’s what Tommy was to so many of these people.  The dumb kid. 

 

And yet...

Was it really so bad?  Better being ‘the dumb kid’ than the smelly kid, the poor kid, or the pervy kid.  Lowered expectations were reachable expectations.

 

As though he were a child who might wander off, Katlynn took his hand and started leading him home.  It was done with the same relaxed informal familiarity as every other strange thing that had happened to him this morning.  As far as his family remembered, he was easily confused, behind for his grade, short for his age, a bed wetter, and an occasional pants wetter.  Looks like he got lost on the regular too.

 

Fate had other plans for Tommy than going home, he felt.  On just the periphery of his vision, a golden light shone, and the sound of hooves clip clopped in his ears.  Just as the bus pulled off, Tommy looked back over his shoulder.

 

Across the street a golden structure caught his eyes, glistening and shining like a lost city, just waiting to be discovered.  “What’s that?”  Tommy pointed.

“What’s what?”  Katlynn asked.  She followed Tommy’s gaze.  “Oh? That?  That’s the old playground, remember?”  Tommy did not, in fact, remember.  The rickety old playground that was normally located across the street had been a relic from decades before the ‘Luxury’ in Forrest Luxury Apartments was ironic.  

 

From Tommy’s memory, that playground was just a pile of rotting timber, and rusted metal.  The main play structure smelled of moldy wood and insects crawled over dozens of scraped-in initials where young punks had thought to carve their initials alongside curse words in a poorly thought out attempt to make their mark on an uncaring world.  Plastic slides held had developed a unique kind of fungus on them cultivated from dog and catshit smeared over them.

Any grass surrounding it was overgrown and home to snakes, raccoons, and who knew how many parasites.  The old sandbox was what could generously be described as a mud pit.

 

The seats on the swingset had long been broken and were home to little more than dangling chains that snowed brown iron dandruff when shaken.  Corroded and rusty monkey bars had a greater chance of giving a child tetanus than a good time.  Both the spinning merry go round and the seesaw had rusted at their joints where they were closer to modern art than play equipment.  The old playground was more of a graveyard of fun; a poorly preserved fossil from better times when money had been invested into the community.

This?  This wasn’t the old playground.  This looked shining and brand new.  Everything looked brand new and in mint condition:  Clean slides, fresh wood, short grass, crisp sand, and smooth and clean metal play equipment, all with a golden sheen.     (Not unlike a certain Titan’s armor.)

 

There was something different about the playground, though.  More than just the cleanup and new materials inhabiting the old space, Tommy swore that he could see a strange silhouette just behind the main play structure:  Hints of hooves on the ground, with a humanoid upper body.

“Nox,” Tommy whispered to himself. Tommy let go of his sister’s hand.  “I’m gonna go check it out.”  

 

Katlynn took his hand back.  “No you’re not.”  There was an air of command about her tone.  Tommy wasn’t sure if he liked it.  “We gotta get home, not play on some dirty old playground.”

 

“But-”

 

“No buts-” Katlynn interrupted.  “You’ve got homework to do, mister.”

“You’re not my mom, Kat.”

 

“No, but I’m your big sister.”

 

“By two minutes!”

 

“That’s not why I’m your big sister…”  Katlynn let the words hang for a moment, and Tommy caught a glimpse of regret in her eyes.  Just a flash, though.

 

Tommy grimaced.  She might not have thought he knew, but he realized what she was implying.  He stood up as straight as he could, took his hand back and said, “Katlynn.  I’m eighteen.  I’m an adult.  I’m allowed to make my own choices, for better or worse.”

 

Katlynn took a half step backwards.  Her jaw wasn’t exactly hanging, but her lips were open.  Her lips were open and no sound was coming out from between them.  Speechless.  She was speechless.  She was trying to think of a rebuttal, and couldn’t.  Her cheeks puffed as she exhaled.  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but…”

 

Tommy waited.  He wanted to attack, to barrel her over and rebut any counter arguments and have the argument be won before she could utter a comeback.  Instead, he held back.  “But?” he asked.

 

“But you’re right,” she admitted.  “You’re technically an adult and there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

 

Tommy nodded.  “Good.”

 

“I’m gonna tell Mom, though.”

Young master Dean wrinkled his nose.  “That’s fair.  I’ll accept those consequences.”

 

His sister’s head sort of vibrated, not as if she were disagreeing, but as if she couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth.  Wisdom from the mouth of babes, as it were.  “Okay then...okay.”  She walked away.

 

Tommy wasted no time sprinting across the street.  He dumped his backpack, wet trainers still inside, into the mulch as soon as he crossed the neatly cropped grass into his area.  The metal frames of the swingset and monkey bars, he noticed, were etched and covered in familiar and unfathomable runes.  

 

That wasn’t his main priority, however.  “Nox!” he called out,  ducking under the nearest  slide.  “Equestrinox!”  He ran to the back.  “Nox, what are you doing…?”  He stopped.  “Here?”

 

Just behind the play area, with it’s steps, and slides, and even a little fireman’s pole was a new piece of equipment.  A tall spring pony was planted in the mulch and woodchips, a big one with legs sculpted on with just enough length to give the vague sense that someone was looking at the real thing from a distance.  That explained the horse hooves.

 

Its rider explained the humanoid outline.  Sitting side saddle on the playground equipment was a woman, a stranger.  She was a woman grown, older than any of the girls in his class, but younger than his mother.  Mid to late twenties, maybe thirty.   A white t-shirt and plain blue jeans did nothing to hide her curves: She was shapely, with full hips and fuller breasts, and brunette hair that cascaded down her shoulders.  Her eyes were mismatched, one green and one blue, a strange not quite imperfection that only made her seem all the more alluring to Tommy.

 

“Hello Tommy,” the woman said.  “Come to play?”

 

Tommy froze.  “How do you know my name?”

The woman didn’t answer.  She just smiled and slid off of the big spring pony and walked past him.  Tommy let her pass, but when he looked over his shoulder, she was looking back over hers  “Coming?” she asked.

 

The stranger kept walking as Tommy followed.  “Seriously.  How do you know my name?  What are you doing here?  Were you waiting for me or something?”  He peppered her with questions, each one went unanswered, her not even responding as she meandered to the front edge of the renewed playground.  He took another look at the runes engraved on the golden monkey bars.  “Are you from Malacus?” he asked.

 

She stopped and looked down at him.  “Sort of,” she said.  “But that’s not important right now.”

“What is?” 

The woman smiled, warmly; knowingly.  “For you?  Right now?  Playtime?”

 

A bit of  Tom the Titan came to the forefront of Tommy’s. “What kind of playtime?”  He clenched his fist and stepped back into a defensive position.

 

Her laughter resounded out loud and filled with mirth. The very metal of the playground vibrated with her laughter.  “The kind best kind,” she said.  “The kind where you play!  Slides. Monkey bars!  Seesaws! This is a playground, silly!  I just want you to play!”

 

Tommy unstiffened.  “Okay…”   This could be a good thing.  After such a strange and exhausting, he could use a good ol’ fashioned fantasy adventure. The strangest thing followed: Nothing. They stood there, just looking at each other.  He looking at her, and she at him.  Him, wobbly and uncertain looking from her and back to the playground, waiting for something to happen.  Her, staring passively at him; only the gentle heaving of her breasts and the occasional blink indicating that she was alive.   What was going on?  If she was from Malacus, wasn’t she supposed to say something?  Do something?  “So...uh…”  

“Yes?”

 

Tommy shrugged.  “What am I supposed to do now?  Just start going down the slide?  Ride the horse into the sunset?”

 

The stranger’s lips made a thin line.  “Aw,” she cooed.  “Poor baby.  You don’t know how to play?”

He shrugged.  It had been a long while since he’d played on an actual playground.   This playground had been on its last legs when he was five and had only gone downhill since.  And Scrumpton wasn’t exactly a place where playgrounds flourished.  Like so many other cities in America, Scrumpton suffered from an epidemic of organized play.  

 

Increasingly since Tommy was a little boy, play was a contest.  It wasn’t proper play unless there were things like rules and boundaries and points and winners and losers.  Tommy had almost always been among the losers.  Places of simple whimsy and unstructured playtime were few and far between...as were people who enjoyed playing for playing’s sake.   “Um...I guess not?”

 

“Don’t worry,” the stranger reached out and patted Tommy’s head.  “Nanny will teach you.”

 

Tommy arched an eyebrow.  “Nanny?”  he said.  “Is that your name?” 

She shook her head.  “Not really.  But you can call me that if you’d like to.”

“What if I don’t want to?”  Tommy asked.  Something just didn’t quite feel right about all this.  In Malacus everything had been spelled out for him, piece by piece, like the tutorial level in a video game.  But this wasn’t Malacus, was it?

 

Instead of answering, Nanny picked a bag up off the ground.  It looked like a satchel purse. There was something vaguely familiar about it, though; mainly in the color scheme.  “Is this yours?” she asked.

 

Tommy shook his head.  “No.  Not mine.”  An instant later he realized why it looked so familiar. 

 

Before Tommy could finish the thought, the lady flipped open the top satchel, and pulled out a gallon plastic bag.  “Are you sure?”  Coyly, she dangled out the ziplock containing Tommy’s wet training pants.  “Are these big boy pants yours?”  She smiled, a prosecuting attorney presenting damning issues.

 

Tommy gulped.  “Yeah.” He said.  His heart rate sped up a few ticks.

 

“And were they in this bag?”  Nanny asked him.  She dropped the wet trainers onto the grass.

“Yeah…”

 

“Then this bag must also be yours.”

His not-quite secret shame there on the ground in front of him, Tommy felt his face flush.  “It didn’t used to be a bag,” he said.  “A second ago it was my backpack.”

 

“Sure it was.”  The stranger agreed, but the sound of her voice sounded like she was humoring him.  He followed her gaze back down to the wet trainers.  “Had a big accident at pre-K, huh?”

Tommy grimaced like he’d swallowed salt water.  “I go to the high school,” he said.

 

Nanny smirked.  “You had a big accident at high school?”

“No!”  That did not come out the right way.  A set of mismatched eyes looked down at the trainers on the ground and then back up to Tommy.  “I mean, it was only a little accident…”  He patted the front of his crotch, feeling the dry warmth of the extra padding.  His blue Thomas Trainers might need a wash, but his plain backups were still good to go.  “It didn’t even leave a spot on my shorts.”  He crossed his arms.  “I’m a big boy.”  The juvenile phrasing came to him so easily that he barely noticed how queer it sounded coming out of an eighteen year old’s mouth.  He barely noticed, but he still did.

 

The woman, this so called nanny, reached out and tickled Tommy under his chin.  To his surprise, he let her.  “Who said you were a big boy?” she purred.  “Miss Thompson the pre-K teacher?  You’re not ready for daycare, yet.”

 

Tommy snapped out of the momentary stupor he was in.  “For your information, it was the nurse who said I was a big boy.”

 

The stranger seemed to consider that.  “Well if it was from a nurse…” she said.  “Fair enough.  Who am I to argue with a medical professional?”  Like a switch, the woman’s demeanor changed from taunting and passive agressive to playful.  “Since that’s settled, why don’t we get ready for play?”

 

“Get ready for play?” Tommy echoed.  “How do you get ready for play?”  He had the sinking feeling that this offer of play, this mini adventure outside of school would require special equipment; baseball gloves, or football helmets.  It just wasn’t a game in Scrumpton unless accessories were involved.

 

Alas, Tommy was right, but not quite in the way he’d supposed.  “You’ve been in those clothes all day,” Nanny said.  “Best to get into a change of play clothes, don’t you think.”

“I don’t have a change of…” Tommy cut himself off as he watched Nanny reach into the satchel and take some clothes out.  A Spider-Man T-shirt...and matching shorts, red and balck webbing pattern and all.  If Spider-Man had been turned into a toddler, he’d wear shorts like those.  Tommy looked down at the big red S on his chest.  He liked Superman well enough, but Spider-Man was by far the best; that’s why Tommy knew he’d defend Turn Off The Dark as being robbed at the Tony’s with his dying breath.

 

“Would you like to get changed into these?”

 

Tommy almost felt like he was drooling.  “Yeah.”  He would.  He really would.  “I’ll take those home,” he said. “And I’ll change and come back here.”  He reached out for the clothes; his clothes.  They were in his satchel purse, so they were his; even if he didn’t remember packing them.

 

Playfully, the woman calling herself Nanny yanked them away.  “Or…” she said, “...or you could put them on here.”

 

Tommy looked around.  “There’s no bathroom.”  Lots of things had been restored, and the spring pony was a new addition, but there were no public restrooms around, either now or in Tommy’s memory.

 

“I’ll help.”

 

Sometimes things need to be repeated, not because the listener misheard, but because what was said was so completely unexpected that it didn’t fully register with the conscious mind.  The idea was foreign, if not the language.  Tommy stood there in the grass, gawking. “Excuse me?” 

 

“I’ll help you get into your play clothes out here,” this strange woman said.  Tom’s conscious mind was telling him to run.  Stranger danger to the extreme.  Tommy’s unconscious mind, however…

 

“There’s no bathroom,”  Tommy repeated himself. Maybe the same thing was happening to the Nanny.  She said she was from Malacus, (sort of).  Flush toilets weren’t really a thing on that side of the clock. 

The Nanny was already digging around in the satchell that used to be Tommy’s backpack.  In a feat that wasn’t quite on par with pulling a large potted plant out of a carpet bag, the beautiful lady with mismatched eyes removed a folded picnic blanket, flapped it open, and laid it out with just the flick of her wrist.  “I know.  You can get changed here.” 

Tommy looked around “Uh...we’re in public.”

 

“Don’t worry. No one’s looking.”  She pointed to the playground.  It seemed to be glowing.  “The sun is in the perfect position.  If anyone does look, they’ll be blinded by the pretty golden glow.”

 

Tommy was close to tears;  tears of frustration he realized.  He was running out of excuses to give himself.  “What about you?”

“You were almost completely naked in front of a bunch of hairy, sweaty dwarves,” the woman said “Are you scared of me little old me?”  Tommy didn’t say anything.  Like a child who’d run out of good arguments, he felt his tongue tied and his voice go quiet.  “Step onto the blanket.  Let’s get these nice clean play clothes on you.”  Her voice was downright hypnotic.  “You know you want to.”

He did.  He really did.  And for once, even when she was teasing him, she was talking to him like he was intelligent.  None of the others at school today dared call him stupid.  They just talked over his head in well meaning but condescending voices.  Especially Katlynn.  Even Amanda a little bit.

 

“Alright,” Tommy said stepping onto the blanket.  “Let’s play.”

 

“If anyone sees us,” the Nanny whispered, “it’ll be all my fault.”  She started pulling his shorts down for him.  Tommy didn’t resist.  “I’m older, wiser, smarter.  I’m taking advantage of you.  You can pretend you didn’t know any better.”

 

“Yeah,”  Tommy whispered.  “Yeah.”   He didn’t know any better.  That’s why he was standing out here as this beautiful stranger that surely no one in town knew.  That’s why he was letting his pants get pulled down and showing off his padded tighty whities.  That was just...just...just a little...

 

“But no one’s going to see us.  You’re here.  You’re safe.  You’re just going to play.”   Her hand was on his chest, and Tommy suddenly felt weak in the knees.  He wasn’t overcome or fatigued, he just had the sudden urge to sit down on the blanket, being guided down mentally as well as physically.

Strong, feminine hands tickled themselves up Tommy’s ribs and guided his arms to the sky.  “Easy part first.  Let’s change that shirt.”  The world went blue for a second as the T-shirt was yanked up over Tommy’s head.  “Good boy.  Keep those arms up.”

 

Tommy sucked in his breath as the brand new Spider-Man shirt was pulled over his head and his arms guided through the sleeves.  In a strange well it felt good to be dressed like this.  Comforting, really.

The woman put her hand back on his chest and gently guided Tommy to lay down.  He picked his legs up, and the woman with the mismatched eyes shimmed his shorts off his ankles, them only getting caught on the heels of his sneakers for an instant.  

 

“Shoes can stay on,” the woman said.  The Spider-Man shorts did not go on next, however.  Nimble, almost elven fingers dug into the waistband of his underwear.  “These?  I don’t think so.”

 

Tom reached down and grabbed the wrists.  “I do.”  His special training pants were staying on.  He yanked up at her wrists, but they stayed where they were. He had godlike strength inside the clock.  Not so, here.

The Nanny removed her fingers, not because she was forced to, but because she could.  She reached over and grabbed what used to be Tommy’s backpack.  “I think you were very big for school,” she said, “but I’m worried about your trainers.  You’ve already had one accident today…”

“I’m not giving up my special undies!”  Tommy was almost bleating.  Have his shirt and pants ripped off of him? No problem. But the anxiety that was flooding his gray matter was starting to border on manic.  He’d lost a lot to get Thomas the Tank Engine and friends on his underwear.  He wasn’t giving it up to freeball.

The Nanny brushed aside a bit of her brunette hair.  She grabbed the thing that used to be Tommy’s backpack.   Still on guard, Tommy dug his fingers into the waistband of his trainers and clenched his fists tight while she rooted around.  

 

“You don’t have to give up your special undies,” she said.  “Just give them a rest.  A break.”  Tommy held firm.  From out of the bag, the woman pulled out a new item.  It was rectangular, and mostly white, with little teal scribblings stenciled in.  Tommy could tell from the crease on the bottom that it was folded up.  It wobbled a bit in her hand, and made a dry crinkling sound as she turned it over in his hand.  The back had cute little squiggles on it.  Grover, from Sesame Street, was chasing a pastel butterfly with a net.   Along what had to be the front waistline, a smiling Elmo and Abby Cadaby waved at Tommy.  The word ‘Pampers’ off to the side made it absolutely clear what she was holding, just in case.

It wasn’t a purse or a satchel that she was digging around in.  It was a diaper bag.  And in her hand, was of course, a diaper; just a little bit bigger than what babies wore.  “Take a break from being a big boy,” the lady said.  “Give you potty pants a break.”

The hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck (what few remained) were standing on edge.  “I can hold it,” he said.  

 

“I know you can.”  The Nanny reached forward and tweaked his nose.  “This would be just in case.”

 

Tommy’s breathing was becoming shallow and he wasn’t sure why.  “Just in case?”

 

“Just in case.”

 

“What if I keep these dry?”  Tommy asked.  The fact that he was spread eagle in his underwear outdoors had vanished from his mind.  He had more pressing matters on his mind.

 

“Then when you’re done playing and ready to go home, I’ll help you put your big boy undies back on.”

 

“And if I do…”  Tommy chose his next words carefully.  “If I need that just in case?”  He didn’t dare say anything along the lines of accidents.

 

The woman who’d lured him this for just shrugged.  “Then I’ll change you.”  She paused.  “Hold on.”  She looked in the diaper bag, briefly.  “Yes, I’ll change you,” she said, sounding more sure of herself. “Your Mommy packed plenty.”

“And I’ll be stuck inside them?”  Tommy clenched his trainers.  He was genuinely unsure of what he wanted the answer to be.

 

The Nanny pressed her lips together, again, letting out a low humming noise as she considered.  “No.  I don’t think so.  I’ll change you.  But when we’re done and it's time for you to go home, your big boy trainers will go back on.”

 

Tommy bit his bottom lip so hard it almost bled.  Why was this so important to him?  “And you won’t tell anyone?”

 

“This will be our little secret.”

 

Tommy stared down at his chest.  A certain arachnid silhouette stared at him over black webbing on a field of red and blue.  “And the...play clothes?”

“You can keep those,” the woman promised.

 

Tommy released his death grip on the plain white trainers and propped himself up on his elbows.  He leaned on his left so he could stick out his right hand, little finger first.  “Pinky swear?”

 

Mismatched eyes lit up with joy, and the Nanny slapped her hand over her mouth in order to stifle her own laughter.  “You’re too cute!”  She reached out her own pinky and wrapped it around his.  “Pinky swear.”  Tommy said no more.  He laid back and put his hands behind his head, leaving his trainers unguarded so that this strange apparition of the land behind the clock could go to work.  

 

Those delicate, almost elven fingers dug into the waist band of his underwear and pulled it down.  Without thinking, as if it were almost second nature, Tommy planted the flats of his shoes on the picnic blanket and lifted his hips so she could slide them all the way off his hips.  “Good boy.”

 

A slight breeze picked up and blew across Tommy’s hairless privates as she finished guiding the underwear off his legs.  Like the shorts, the trainers got caught on his sneakers.  “That’s the hardest part,” she said.  The smaller leg holes of the trainers took more jostling. “Can’t even rip open the sides like Pull-Ups. It’s why I hate potty training.”  Like a spell being cast, the trainers came free.

 

Tommy swallowed as she unfolded the diaper, not much bigger than what a two-year-old might wear.  He gasped as the Nanny pushed his legs back and lifted his bum up for him with ease before sliding the diaper under him.  It seemed she was being polite when she allowed him to help get his underwear off.

 

Immediately as his weight settled, he could feel the extra cushioning of the diaper.  The padded underwear he’d low-key exalted in wearing all day seemed thin by comparison.  An impulse rocketed through him to suck his thumb.  Out of pride more than revulsion, he resisted the urge and sucked on his teeth instead as the diaper was brought up between his legs.  Tommy was a little disappointed that a bottle of baby powder hadn’t come out of his new diaper bag.    

 

“Diapers go on easy,” the strange woman said.  Tommy shivered in delight a bit as the Pampers were taped up, one side at a time;  first the left, then the right.  It was strange how something that was shaped and sized like something between a washcloth and a towel took form around his waist.  There was a feeling of completion and security that he hadn’t gotten when changing his wet trainers at lunch.   The Nanny gave a last press on each of the tapes, for emphasis.  “Much easier, don’t you think?”  

 

Still sucking on his teeth in anticipation (for what he couldn’t remember), Tommy nodded.  “Mmm-hmmm.”  He sat up to move, but found the Nanny’s hand back on his chest, guiding him back down.

 

“Silly boy,” she clucked.  “You’re only half dressed.”  She popped open the matching baggy shorts and worked them over his sneakered feet.  When they were just past his ankles, she reached for his hands.

 

Taking the cue, he reached up and allowed himself to be helped to his feet, with the pants and his new diaper on display for any passerby.  “You’re being such a good helper,” the woman complimented him, as she pulled the shorts all the way up his waist and let the elastic band snap into place.

 

His ‘play-outfit’ complete, Tommy took a few tentative steps off the blanket, whilst the brunette haired woman packed away the clothes he’d worn to school in what used to be his backpack.  It felt...different.  He was more bow-legged and the padding had less give than he was used to.  He could put his feet together if he angled his knees in the right direction, but found that if he tried to touch his knees together, they would just barely graze.  The insides of his thighs would not be touching for as long as he was wearing this.  Tommy had never worn a pelvic cast before, but he imagined it was a lot like that. 

A few more quiet steps, and Tommy realized that his steps weren’t so quiet at all.  There was a dry rustling when he moved, a crinkling that sounded like a kind of cross between grocery bag plastic and crumpling notebook paper.  It happened with every step.  The diaper didn’t move with him as much as it moved around him.

 

“This,” Tommy hesitated.  “This is new.”

The Nanny came up beside him. “Do you mean you’ve never worn diapers before?” she teased.  Tommy had nothing to say to that.  “Think of it as a refresher of sorts.”

 

“Why would I need a refresher?” Tommy asked.  

 

He didn’t get an answer; just a playful swat on his behind.  He barely felt it through the poofy undergarment, but the surprise caused him to go up on his tippy toes and stumble forward.  A stranger he’d met not ten minutes ago had just stripped him and dressed him like he was a toddler too young for even preschool.  Things were already going so fast.  If he hadn’t already lost his virginity to an elf last night and peed in front of his crush (with both women having identical faces), this might have been considered weird.   “Think of it as armor,” the Nanny, now behind him said.  “Play armor.”

 

Tommy looked back over his shoulder and noticed that not everything had been put away.  “Are you going to pack up the blanket?” he asked.

 

The beautiful stranger regarded the blanket for a moment.  “I’ll leave it out.  Just in case…”  She motioned for him to go play.  “Go on.  I’ll watch.”

 

With slow and unsteady steps, Tommy walked bow-legged onto the playground.  He took the pristine wooden steps onto the main play structure, doing his best to ignore the rustling sound that buzzed up from his waist with every step. It was a relatively plain play place as far as those sort of things went.  A set of steps up to a main platform with multiple ways out.   

 

Straight ahead were connecting monkey bars he could swing on, to his right was a second set of steps that fed into a twisting slide.  To his left and farther out was a second slide, this one wider and straighter with a fireman’s pole to the slide’s right just before.  Beneath him, through the wooden boards he could make out a kind of pit, with golden metal play wheels. 

“This is dumb,”  Tommy mumbled to himself.  “It’s just a playground.”  But then a little voice inside of him- the same voice that got his attention and caused him to stare longingly at a package of Paw Patrol Pull-Ups- gave him another idea.  What if it wasn’t just a playground?

Tommy looked to the monkey bars.  “Battlements,” he said.  He lightly stomped on the floor and looked in the shaded area beneath the playspace.  “A dungeon.”   He squinted at the slide that went straight out like a ramp.  “Drawbridge over the moat.”  He looked at the twisting slide and the fireman’s pole.  “Secret passages.”   This wasn’t a playground, that voice deep within Tommy told him.  “It’s a fortress.”

 

“What was that, Tommy?”  

Tommy looked down to the grown-up lady at the playground’s perimeter.  “I said it’s a fortress!”

 

“Oh is it?”  The Nanny giggled.  Arms flourishing, she bowed.  “Well then, at your service, m’lord.  Prithee, what is the king of this castle’s name?”

 

He was about to proclaim he was Tom the Titan of Earth Realm, but something didn’t taste right about that.  He was all those things in Malacus, but this wasn’t Malacus.  It was like calling Trevor ‘Leadshoulder’; a case of similar but mistaken identity.   

 

An idea came to him. He pulled the front of his shirt out and looked down at it.  “I’m Spider-Tom!”

 

The Nanny’s response was immediate.  “Hurray! Spider-Tom!  King of the Castle!”  Darn tootin’ he was!   With what felt like unexpected grace, Tommy took to the monkey bars and started swinging from them, moving down bar by bar, one hand at a time.

“Spider-Tom is on patrol to protect the fortress.” Tommy declared.  The ground was only an inch or two away from his toes, but to Tommy he might as well have been soaring through the skies through a bizarre kind of medieval Manhattan.  For an ordinary child, pretending a playground was a castle was an easy enough task, requiring little imagination.  For Tommy, who had let go of such immature pastimes AND had been in the inside of actual castles and fortress, such an act of internal chicanery required a level of skill and Herculean imagination.

 

“Such good swinging!”  The Nanny cheered from the side of the monkey bars.  “Well done m’lord Spider-Tom.”

Tommy’s feet came to the ladder at the end of the monkey bars and he twisted and pivoted around so he was facing back towards the fortress/play place.  “I’m not swinging by my hands,” he told her.  “I’m web slinging.”  He let go with one hand long enough to do the signature Spider-Man pose: Pointer and pinky stretched out, middle finger and ring finger to his palm, and thumb sticking out to the side.   He didn’t know why, but it was very important to him that she knew that Spider-Tom wasn’t just swinging from the monkey bars like a kid.

 

“And what wonderful web slinging it is, Spider-Tom,” the Nanny gushed. She came up and fiddled with his shorts, breaking character.  “Just a moment.”  Tommy looked down and saw the waistband of his Spider-Man play shorts pulled up over the paper-thin top of his diaper which had just been starting to poke out.  “Carry on, m’lord.”  Another pat on the butt sent Tom swinging back across to the playground.

 

Tommy sored along the battlements, satisfied with his patrol.   “Things seem to be fine.”

 

“But look out Spider-Tom!”  He heard the Nanny call from the ground.  “Goblins are trying to crawl up the drawbridge!”

 

Tommy whipped his head to the straight and wide slide.  He couldn’t see the goblins, of course, but knew they were there all the same.  With a few bounding leaps Tommy was gliding down the slide, bowling goblins over in his wake with speed and agility that Tom the Titan could never match.  

 

Legs spread wide to trip them on his way down. Tommy threw punches in every direction, felling goblins left and right.  These adversaries felt weaker than even the dwarves.  Tommy couldn’t even feel their bones breaking beneath his fists, but he knew ever punch he threw, the minions of evil were being slain. 

No treaties.  No playing nice.  No complicated geopolitical-racial tensions.  Just beatin’ up baddies and being the hero.  Just the way Tommy liked it.  “Oh no!”  Tommy yelled, sounding completely insincere.  “There’s too many of them!”

“Run away!”  The Nanny called from the sidelines.  “Retreat back to the castle!”  

 

Tommy ran back up the slide the way he came, whirling around with a positively maniacal grin when he’d reached the top.  “FOOLED YOU GOBBIES!” He shouted, sliding back down and slaughtering the goblins who were foolhardy enough to follow him up his own drawbridge.  Goblins always fell for that trick.

 

“Yay for Spider-Tom!  So smart!”  After a day in remedial everything,  that little pretend compliment meant more to Tom than it should have.  Tommy continued beating up invisible legions and punching at shadows. 

“Oh no!” The Nanny cried out in mock horror.  “They’ve got ogres!  Whatever are you going to do?”

Tommy didn’t stop punching the air.  “It’s okay,” Tommy called back.  “I can handle ogres!” He kept punching and doing his best (bad) kung fu impressions, throwing in some web slinging for good measure.  “Yah!” He shouted.  “Bam!  Pow!”

It was harder to do kicks in these clothes, though for reasons he wasn’t quite paying attention to, Tommy was definitely doing a kind of fancy footwork.  He hadn’t been to a toilet since lunch.  Technically he hadn’t successfully used a potty...a toilet... outside of a few dribbles and aftershocks after the damage had already done to his clothes.  

 

No time to think about that, though.  “But Spider-Tom,” the Nanny said.  “The ogres are making their way inside the castle!”
 

Like the cartoon characters he’d seen so often in his youth, Tommy stood straight up, with his pointer towards the sky.  “Spider-Tom is on the way!”  Once again, Tommy ran straight up the slide.  This time he lost his balance, slipping.  His stomach and chest hit the slide first, before he skid back down.  It didn’t hurt.  Not really, but something was off.

 

He felt a hot warmth for a second and then he realized the source.  He was wetting his pants again, and not just a little bit this time.  He’d started peeing the moment he fell and by the time he was upright he was almost done.  No point in cutting the stream off, or so his body had decided.  Tommy looked down at his ruined playshorts, ready for the tell tale wet spot to form on the outside of his pants, or for urine to start trickling down his leg.

 

None came.

 

“Tommy?” the only other person there called.  “Tommy, are you alright?”   

 

He felt his underwear- his diaper- swelling and sagging a bit, like he’d just peed into a sponge, but there was no obvious sign at what he’d done to himself. He didn’t dare touch his crotch, for fear of giving himself away.  “I’m fine,” he lied.  He pulled his pants back up over the very top of the diaper.  “Pants fell down a little.”  An idea came to him.  Instead of gently padding his front and feeling for wet spots, he brazenly grabbed his diaper through his pants and jostled it.  “Gotta...adjust…” he said.  “Guy stuff.” 

“Oh,” the Nanny said.  “That’s fine.”

 

The squish in the front of his diaper was wet and warm; not unlike the inside of a certain queen of the elves.  That memory rushed to the forefront of Tommy’s and his Pampers started to feel a little tighter at the mental image.  He chased the idea out of his head.  He had more important things to do, like kicking ogres out of his castle.

Tommy redoubled his efforts and rushed up the inclined plane of a drawbridge back up to the castle proper.  With titanic spider strength, Spider-Tom tossed ogres out of the castle.  Nanny provided their voices (or rather, their cries of anguish) as they fell from such lofty heights.

 

“Oh no!  Too strong!  We never should have come here!”   Her voice was high pitched and sniveling, yet growly; a properly humbled ogre voice.  “Quick, Spider-Tom, some of them are getting away!” 
 

“NOT ON MY WATCH!” Tommy yelled at the top of his lungs.  Instead of sliding back down the drawbridge, Tommy went the other direction to the twisting slide.  Secret passages were always faster.  Always.

 

Nanny grabbed him by the hand and pointed to the spring pony they’d met on.  “To your horse m’lord!  That’ll catch them!”  Hand in hand, they ran over to Spider-Tom’s noble steed.  Tommy climbed on and began rocking back and forth as his Spider-Tom-Horse ran as fast as it could, mowing down ogres by the score.  “Good job!” she praised him. 

Tommy dismounted as he caught up to the last invisible ogre.  “I’m taking this one prisoner.” By the time he’d finished riding, Tommy had stopped noticing how different his wet diaper felt compared to when it was dry.  He’d stopped noticing the squish with every rocking motion, or how the swollen Pampers made his legs bow out even more when he was walking. 

 

It wasn’t the same as with the trainers.  When he’d had an accident at lunch, it had felt like a kind of mental trainwreck.  The trainers were padded in case he got wet, not because they were supposed to get wet.  The thing wrapped around his hips now was meant to contain any accidents he had and let him keep adventuring.   There was no ‘just in case’ about it.  It really was like play armor.  Internally, Tommy just accepted that this was how his underwear was supposed to feel.

 

He made a show of going over and pantomimed picking up the imaginary monster, and stowing it back on his noble steed.  “Back to the castle!” 

 

Before he could hop back on the spring pony, Nanny tapped him on the shoulder.  “But before we go back to the castle, I think it’s time we go back to the picnic blanket.”

 

“Why?”  Tommy was genuinely unsure.

 

She reached down between his legs and squeezed his crotch.  His new underwear was still pleasantly wet and squishy, but it had lost all warmth by now.  Nor was it by the strictest definition ‘new’ anymore.  “I think I need to ‘adjust’ your diaper.”  Without further comment she took Tommy by the hand and led him back over to the blanket; Tommy blushing all the way.

 

She’d known all along, Tommy realized.  From the moment that he’d pretended to adjust as a way of checking himself, she’d known.  Yet she had brought it up until well after.  Nanny had let him play.  Nanny had played along and cheered with him, as if a little accident inside his pants was less important than him having fun.  If he hadn’t captured that last ogre, and created a break in the play, he might have been allowed to continue.  She didn’t have that disgusted, freaked out, look that Cameron had had at lunch.  Even Amanda had bailed on him as soon as he crossed the threshold into the nurse’s office.   Nanny was staying with him.

 

That idea- the notion of not being rejected for things he couldn’t control- was a measure of comfort to Tommy as his pants were pulled down for him and he was guided back down to the ground. Tommy lifted his legs and started to try and get his shorts past his sneakers, while Nanny dug around in the diaper bag.   “Can I help?”

 

Nanny looked back at him and steaded his legs.  “Pants stay on.”

 

“But you said you were…I mean I thought…-”  Tommy’s words were cut off as Nanny reached down and started to rub him through the wet diaper.  Tommy let out a gasp as his penis grew erect. 

 

“Little baby boy thought he wanted to stay in his trainers, didn’t he?”  There was no irony or mocking in her voice.  She kept rubbing him through the extra large Pampers.  The wet pulp surrounded his manhood, cushioning him and caressing him as she squeezed and stroked.  “Didn’t he?”

 

“Uh-huh,”  Tommy moaned.  He wasn’t a baby boy.  He knew he wasn’t.  But this just felt so good.  Her voice was so hypnotizing.  It was useless to resist.  So why resist?  The front of his diaper felt especially snug, his erection growing with every stroke, becoming harder with each honeyed word she whispered into his brain.

 

“But if baby boy had had his trainers on, he would have had an accident and Spider-Tom would have wet his pants.”  This was fact.  It was known.  All Tom could do was suck on his teeth and moan as Nanny kept rubbing.   Still rubbing him through the diaper, she counted off the many deeds on the playground.  “Instead, he got to fight goblins, and ogres, and ride on the horsey, and not worry about anything other than being the best baby Spider-Tom he could be.”  It was soothing in a way.

 

For an instant, his synapses flared to self-awareness and with that came a moment of self-consciousness.  He was out in the open, pants around his ankles, being jerked off in a diaper while one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen cooed at him like he was an adorable little tyke.  What would the neighbors think?

 

Like a second round of booze hitting his bloodstream, Tommy suddenly didn’t feel embarrassed.  Instead he felt giggly, and silly...and naughty.  Tommy felt naughty in the best possible way.  He started thrusting his hips, ever so slightly to grind against his Nanny’s palm.

 

“Oh-ho!” Nanny cooed.  “Does baby like his special diaper change?”

 

Tommy only giggled as he wriggled his hips some more.  He’d stopped sucking on his teeth; too hard to keep his mouth closed.  But he wanted to suck on something.  He almost wanted to ask Nanny to reposition herself so he could suckle on her tit, but couldn’t find the courage. 

Lulling his head to the side as he neared climax, he stared at his thumb.  Flashes of himself days ago on his couch, sucking on his thumb.  Should he? 

 

Nanny paused long enough to take out a fresh Pampers, a packet of wipes and a bottle of baby oil.  She wasn’t kidding when she called this a ‘diaper change’.  She reached over and undid the tapes on Tommy’s diaper with two quick motions; one hand against the base of the diaper, and the other to peel the tapes off.  

 

She pulled open the diaper and revealed that it didn’t come close to Tommy’s ankles.  “Like I said,” Nanny smiled coyly, “diapers are easy.”  The cold baby wipe dragged over his throbbing cock did little, if anything, to douse his physical excitement.  “Gotta get that baby clean,” she cooed.
 

The baby oil came next.  Tommy watched and felt everything as it was rubbed over him.  So warm.  So fragrant.  So...familiar.  Nanny grabbed him again and picked up the pace.  Tommy was bucking as she started stroking him directly.  “Ug...ug...uh..ug..uh…” he groaned.  Words were lost to him, and for the moment only baby babble was coming out of his mouth.

He looked at his thumb, his bottom lip trembling.  He’d already gone so far over the line.  

“Go on baby,”  Nanny coaxed.  “It’s okay.”  

 

Tommy jammed his thumb into his mouth, giggling and feeling so incredibly naughty and silly, his mind peaking, just as his body rocked him into an almost violent climax.  Another baby wipe caught his erupting sperm, cleaning it up neatly as he quivered.  “That’s right,” she whispered.  “Get it alllllll out.”

 

The wipe containing his jizz went into the dirty diaper.  Same as all the other ones. A few more made sure that his taint and backside were clean.  Then it was out with the old diaper and in with the new one.  Tommy lay there panting and grinning around his thumb as the new diaper was pulled up and taped on.  

 

“Good boy.”  Nanny cooed as she slid his Spider-Man shorts back up.  Like a good helper, he lifted his hips so she could slide them back over the new diaper.  “Nanny’s gonna go throw this yucky thing away.”

Just like that, it was over.  The evidence of the last half hour thrown away in the garbage.  New diaper.  Clean bum.  Pants pulled back up.  Tommy was renewed again.  He took his thumb out of his mouth, closed his eyes, and let out a relaxed sigh.

 

“Tommy?” That wasn’t Nanny’s voice.  Tommy jolted awake.  His eyes opened to near darkness. The sun was setting. “Tommy, what are you doing?”

 

“Mom!”  Tommy scrambled up off the old overgrown grass that he’d matted down.  

 

His mother drew him into a tight, panicky hug.  “Tommy, is this where you’ve been?”  She sounded worried. 

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Tommy said, trying to keep his confusing wave of guilt, confusion, and fear together.   “I didn’t mean to.”

 

Mom pulled back from her hug.  “Didn’t mean to?  Katlynn told me you wouldn’t let her take you home..”  Tommy saw that Mom already had his backpack.  Backpack, not diaper bag.

 

“Didn’t mean to fall asleep.”  Tommy corrected himself.

 

Mom shook her head.  It was a pitying gesture.  He wasn’t the precious baby boy anymore, he was the dumb twin who didn’t know any better.  “I don’t know how you could manage to fall asleep out here.”   Tommy looked back over his shoulder.  The playground wasn’t golden anymore.  His play fortress had reverted to a rotting rusted heap.  Had it all been a dream?

 

“I don’t know either.”

 

Tommy took his mother’s hand as she walked away. “And you better not have trouble getting to sleep tonight because you took an impromptu nap, young man.”  Young man.  Not baby boy.  Not even little boy.  Just ‘young man’.

 

“Yes ma’am.”    Tommy looked down at the ground, staring only at his sneakers and blue Spider-Man shorts.  Tommy held his breath and moved his gaze upward.  Spider-Man shirt, too!  But that meant…

 

Tommy listened for the crinkling sound of fresh Pampers.  Nothing.  He tried to squeeze his thighes together, but couldn’t.  Mom wouldn’t let him stop walking.  Sneakily, he pulled open the front of his pants just to check.   He still had the plain white training pants from this afternoon on.

 

 

I’ll change you,” Nanny had said, “But when we’re done and it's time for you to go home, your big boy trainers will go back on.”

 

Tommy mouthed the words to himself:  “This will be our little secret.”

[Personalias]

Chapter 22- Not so fun and games

 

Give them no reason to stare

No slipping up if you slip away

So I got nothing to share

No, I got nothing to say

“Happy birthday to youuuuuuu,” the crowd of party guests sang.  “Happy Birthday to youuuuuu.”  Tommy sang along.  “Happy Birthday dear Deviiiiin.  Happy Birthday to youuuuuuuu!”   Tommy clapped along with the other guests, even though he didn’t feel much like clapping.  It was the polite thing to do; even though Tommy didn’t feel much like being polite.

 

It had been something of a rough week for young master Dean.  Things had not gotten better since Monday.  He was still in all of the dumb kid classes, no matter how much he showed that he could do the work.  They were barely working on double digit multiplication in math and he’d long ago memorized the names of the Presidents in American History.  No matter how many remedial worksheets he’d finished in record time or how insightful his comments seemed, his bevy of new teachers seemed more pleasantly surprised than actually impressed with his accomplishments.

 

To compound his frustration, not once had he seen the Nanny or that golden playground again. He just couldn’t stop thinking about that day.  The “why” and “how” he thought about it varied from day to day and hour to hour:  Anticipation, longing, guilt, nostalgia, boredom, and even lust.  It was a wide gamut, but that day was almost always on his mind. The school stuff was so easy, he could do most of it in his sleep.

In fact, that’s what he did and was allowed to do.  Finish his classwork in five to ten minutes and put his head down, and wait out the rest of the hour.  Lather. Rinse. Repeat.  He’d managed to fall asleep too, and had been shaken awake by more than one overworked teacher who had actual dumb kids to occupy them until the fifty-ninth minute.  It had thrown off his sleep schedule, but that had made little difference.  He could literally do this in his sleep.

 

The clock next to the couch wasn’t opening either.  He could be neither the strange realm’s protector, nor the stranger woman’s cute little charge. He was stuck being the short dumb kid that occassionally wet his pants. It seemed that Malacus was abandoning him right when he needed it the most.   

 

Tommy hadn’t wet his pants at school the rest of the week, for what little good that did.  He was still a bedwetter, and had to tug even thicker trainers over himself along with plastic pants to prevent leakage.  He’d woken up wet, every morning, with no leaks.  Then it’d been a matter of dumping wet underwear and plastic pants in the washing machine, showering up and going to yet another day of drudgery filled with fake smiles and easy work.  It was quickly becoming routine, almost as if his new body were remembering a lifetime worth alternate hum-drum.

 

That’s what this was, Tommy had realized, an alternate reality of sorts.  He was spell struck, infatuated and frustrated; not stupid.  Reality was being restructured around him; he knew that much even if he couldn’t figure out the pattern or the cause and effect relationship.  The golden playground, so similar to his armor, definitely meant that this crazy and that crazy were connected.  The Nanny had even said she’d been from Malacus, even though all the other denizens had sworn they’d never been outside of it.

The crazy would have to wait for later, when Tommy had time to think.

 

Later couldn’t come soon enough.  In the now, he was at this Devin kid’s tenth birthday party.  Tommy didn’t even know anyone here; certainly not Devin, but he’d been lumped in with all the other kids.  Devin’s mother was one of Mom’s work friends, (that was weird...Mom having a job...thinking of her as ‘Mom’ instead of Mary was new too), and Tommy had been obligated to tag along.

 

Tommy had been obligated; but not Katlynn.  Katlynn had been allowed to stay at home and enjoy her weekend.  Tommy, not so much.   He was here with a bunch of kids, and dressed like a nerd: Khaki slacks, a button up shirt, loafers.  If he hadn’t come close to throwing a fit, he would have had to wear a bow tie, too.   All the fun clothes that had come with this new reality came with an equal amount of bad ones, it seemed.

 

He was the oldest non-parent here, and yet the only one who looked like his mommy dressed him.  Every other ‘guest’ of the party at least got to wear comfortable clothes.

Cake was being served in the kitchen, and the fourth graders were all scrambling for a piece.  Those who didn’t want a piece or had already wolfed down their slice were back out in the backyard, playing tag or making like Tarzan on a tire swing.  

 

Tommy would have loved to give that a go, but the line was so long, and the kids were all looking at him funny.   It wasn’t something that was inherently aggressive or unwelcoming, but distinctly uneasy. Kind of like how his old classmates tended to look at him these days, minus the friendly familiarity.

He was the weird kid...but also the strange kid, too.

Grown tired and irritable at a wasted afternoon, Tommy wriggled past the throng of ten year olds scrambling for cake.  He was taller than them, but just by a head, if that.  He tugged on his mother’s sleeve, interrupting her conversation with one of the other parents.  It might have been a relative of Devin’s, or another one of Mom’s work friends; Tommy was alone in a sea of strangers.   “Can we go home?”

 

Mom turned to face him.  “They’re just serving cake, then we’re doing party games.“   Her voice was patient and quiet; a grown-up explaining to a child without being embarrassed by him.  Better than nothing.

 

“Why do we have to stay?” Tommy was trying to control the amount of whine in his tone.  It’d been getting harder and harder.

 

“Because we were invited,”  Mom said.  “I thought you’d like to play with some kids closer to your own…”  she stopped, obviously searching for the right words. 

“My own what…?”

 

“Kids that were a little more like you.”

 

Tommy looked at the assembled fourth graders.  Some were wolfing down chocolate cake, others had already lost focus and were playing in the backyard.  They appeared more with it than the gaggle of drones and jerks he’d been penned in with back in the remedial class, but that was only because they were ten.  Their brain tanks were fuller, but they were smaller, too. 
 

“They’re not my friends,” Tommy said.  “I don’t know any of them.”

 

“So? Mom shrugged. “Go make some friends.”

 

“Why didn’t Katlynn have to come?”  It was the question that was bothering Tommy more than anything.  When you’re a twin and most every activity is co-op, the absence of your other sticks out in a major way.

 

Mom tried to shoo him away.  “Go play, Tommy.”

 

“Why couldn’t I have stayed home with her?”

 

“Go play.”

 

“Seriously,” Tommy pressed.  “Why couldn’t I have stayed home with Katlynn?”

 

Mom put her hand on her hips and gave him a look; it wasn’t quite the infamous and otherwise indescribable ‘Mom glare’, but it was darn close.  Tommy was pushing it.  “The last time you were alone with Katlynn, you wandered off and fell asleep at that disgusting old playground.”

 

Oh.  Right.  Mom had been meeting them at the bus stop every afternoon since.  He hadn’t thought to examine that till just now.

 

One of the mom’s stepped in and grabbed Tommy’s hand.  Reflexively, Tommy gripped back and allowed himself to be led.  “Come on Tommy, let me introduce you.”  Anything to get away from the potential wrath of Mom.

A group of kids stood in a circle and were tossing around a plastic ball.    “Hi guys,” she said.  “This is Tommy.  Can he play with you?”

 

The kid with the ball pressed some kind of button on it and held it tightly.  It wasn’t a regular ball after all.  The game on pause, boys all looked at each other, wearily.  An outsider was in their midst.  It was the dwarven forges all over again.  Tommy wasn’t the best at reading people, but he knew he was being measured up.  “Okay.” One of the kids finally said.  The others shallowly nodded their heads.

It was okay.  Not fine.  Not great.  Not sure.  Just okay.  Tommy was being allowed in.

 

The circle widened, and Tommy was allowed to join it.  That was enough for the mom.  She walked away without so much as a word beyond “Have fun.”

Tommy looked around the circle.  “What are you playing?”  Tommy asked.  “Catch?”  He then noticed that several of the kids’ pants were wet.   “Whoah!” Tommy said. “Do y’all have accidents, too?”  A silent wall of shocked stares met him in response. 

Stupid.  Real Stupid.  Only one kid had a wet patch on his shorts, and he was soaked from the waist down.  Several of the other boys had drenched t-shirts.  “Accidents?” One of the boys scrunched up his face.  “How old are you?  Three?”

 

“Eighteen…”  Tommy sounded defensive.  Which made sense because he felt defensive, too.

 

Another boy, Devin, Tommy thought, overheard and joined the circle. “He’s...different,” he said.  “My mom and his mom are friends.”  He held out his hands and got the ball tossed to him.  He held it out so that Tommy could get a closer look.  

 

It was hollow, kind of like a wiffle ball, but through the little grates and holes, Tommy could make out something squishy with a thin membrane.

“It’s got a water balloon in it,” Tommy said.

 

Devin smiled a little too brightly. “That’s right!”  He turned it over to show the button.  “And this button is connected to a timer.  When it goes off, the balloon pops and water goes everywhere.  But we don’t know how much time is left.” 
 

“So you gotta get rid of it as quick as you can, then.”  Then Tommy added, “Like a hand grenade.”

 

“See?” Devin said to his friends.  “He gets it.”  That sunk Tommy’s mood a bit.  Nothing like having to have your intelligence verified by a ten year old to put any lingering self-esteem in check.  “Ready?”

 

Tommy nodded, Devin pressed the button, and the game was on.  Toss. Yelp. Catch.  Toss. Catch. Yelp.  The little plastic orb went sailing across the circle. Tommy hunched over, tense, ready for a catch that never came.  

 

He was part of the circle but not much else.

 

Until…

 

KERSPLOOSH!

“Aww! Got me!”  The kid’s hair used to be dry, now from his head to his shoulders, he was dripping. 

 

“Loser replaces the balloon,” Devin called.  There was a lull in the conversation as the newly soaked kid unscrewed the hollow sphere, reached into a bucket and loaded up a new water balloon.  “So...uh...what do you like to do for fun?” he asked Tommy.

 

Tommy shrugged.  “Oh, y’know.  Spider-Man.  Music.”

“That’s cool….” Devin said.  It was empty of any thought.  The most literal definition of small talk.  He was being talked down to by someone whose voice hadn’t even changed. “What kind of music?  Rock?  Rap? Country?”

 

“Show tunes.”

 

“Oh yeah?” The kid on Tommy’s other side, asked.   “Like what?  Like uh...Loud House? SpongeBob? We Bare Bears?” 

Tommy shook his head.  How did he explain theater to a bunch of kids from Scrumpton without an example?  “More like...musicals…?”

 

“Like Disney?”

“Kinda...but not just Disney…”

 

“Okay…” The other boys nodded their heads in the shallow way people do that means ‘I want you to stop talking but I don’t wanna be rude’.  Great, he was being condescended to by people whose voice hadn’t changed yet.

 

“Ready?  Go!”  The sphere went back across the circle in the wettest game of hot potato Tommy had ever been witness to.  This was a cool game!  Now if only he could actually play it.  He waited for someone, anyone to throw it to him, but no one would.  That was the problem with being the odd man out. 

 

 He’d had more fun playing in the old park by himself...himself and Nanny.

 

“Can I play next?  Tommy asked when it was time to reload.  “I wanna show you a trick.”

Devin looked askance at him.  “Okay…” he finally said.  “I’ll give you a turn.”  

 

Oh how generous of him, Tommy thought sarcastically.  “Throw it here!”  the birthday boy called when the water grenade was loaded up and the timer was ticking.  Like the king calling court, the orb was in his hands the very next toss.  He placed it in Tommy’s hands.  “Okay.  Your turn.  Now throw it.”

 

Tommy looked down at the orb, he even felt the slight ticking of the timer if he held it still enough.  Suddenly the children who’d been all but ignoring him were all staring.  “Throw it!” They said.

“Toss it away, Tommy!”

 

“Throw it!”

 

“Tommy! Throw it to me!  Throw it here, buddy!  Come on buddy!”  Their tones were high(er) pitched, their eyes bright.  Some were.  They were talking to him like he was a puppy; a simpletone.

 

Tommy decided to work his trick.  “I’m gonna let it cook.”  This thing was on a timer.  The longer he held onto it, the closer it would be to bursting when he handed it off.

 

Devin scowled.  “This isn’t cooking.”

 

Tommy just rolled his eyes.  He was getting tired of being talked down to.  “It’s something people do with hand grenades.”  

 

“But it could explode!”  Tommy just smiled at the kid.  “Did you hear me, Tommy?  The idea is to get RID of the hand grenade,  Not hold it!”

 

A wicked grin spread across Tommy’s lips.  “Ohhhhh...not hold it.”  Tommy echoed low and slow.  “I’m not supposed to hold it.  Holding is bad.  Got it.”  He still held it, quietly counting to himself.  He’d spent the last two rounds counting the timer.  It was random...between twenty and thirty seconds...so not THAT random.  “What am I supposed to do?”  

 

“GIVE IT TO ME!” 

 

Tommy lobbed the orb high and slow over the kid’s head. “Okay.”  The thing exploded right before Devin got a good grip on it.  “Oh wow.” Tommy smirked.  “That really was bad, wasn’t it.”

The kid stood there; fuming; nostrils flaring.  No one laughed.  No one, save Devin moved.  He was staring Tommy down.  There was a flare in the kid’s eyes, and even thought Tommy still had a few inches on him, he couldn’t help but feel small by comparison. “You...you...you idiot!”

 

Two hands shoved Tommy in the chest.  Hard.  Like a fawn that hadn’t quite learned how to walk yet, Tommy stumbled back and tripped over his own heels, crashing into the grass.  He gasped! He’d just gotten shoved down by a little kid! Devin gasped too!  But it wasn’t for the same reason.

 

A wet spot started to form on the front of Tommy’s pants.  The thick trainers were instantly overtaxed, and Tommy’s accident immediately started soaking through and stained the front of his khaki pants.  Had he already had an accident in them? Tommy couldn’t remember.  There was no way he’d be able to claim that it was from a water balloon.

 

“I’m sorry!  I’m SO sorry!”  Devin said as Tommy skittered back, staring in horror and disbelief at his own pants.  This wasn’t like wearing a diaper;  he couldn't just laugh it off and keep playing!  He’d done bad.  He was going to get in trouble.  He had to...he had to…

 

Tommy had to get away!

 

“I’ll go get your Mom!”  Devin was running back into the kitchen as Tommy dashed in the opposite direction.   Devin didn’t sound mad.  He sounded like he was running for help.  But that didn’t matter.  Mommy had been cross with him all week since the playground.  Now he’d gone and wet his pants.   Mommy would be mad!  Mommy would be real mad!  

 

Like a baseball player sliding into home plate, Tommy dove for cover underneath an abandoned snack table.  Most of the delicious vittles had been picked clean off of it before cake had been served inside, and now only the cheap quasi plastic table cloth remained.

 

With the table cloth as a kind of privacy barrier, Tommy poked at himself in the front of his pants and felt the squish, and saw a little puddle form right beneath his finger.  God, he’d really messed it up this time!

 

A pair of familiar legs came into view.  He hadn’t seen them from this view in years, but there was something indelible in his mind; memories of him and Katlynn playing hide and seek (badly) with their mother; burying themselves beneath the kitchen table.  “Tommy?”  

 

He sensed, more than heard the other boys pointing his direction.  An all too familiar pair of legs closed in.  With a slight rustle, the table cloth was lifted up and Tommy found himself face to face with his mother.    “Tommy?  What’s wrong?”  Her eyes immediately looked to his pants.  “The boys told me you ran under here.”

 

Tommy felt his mouth go as dry as he wished his pants were.  She knew.  She already knew.  This was a test, nothing more. Confession time.  “I hadda accident.”

 

Mary Dean’s sigh filled the dark little grotto under the table.  “Again…?”

 

The eighteen year old little boy nodded.  “Yes ma’am.”  He closed his eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

 

His vision temporarily forfeited, Tommy could only feel his mother gently take his hand.  “Come on,” she said.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.”  Tommy had only had two accidents in the last seven days, (he didn’t count the Pampers on the playground), but his mother acted like this was an all too common inconvenience for both of them.  She didn’t sound angry, as much as she did weary.

 

Tommy opened his eyes and allowed himself to be taken inside by the hand.  His head down, he allowed her to lead him through clusters of onlookers and party guests; the dark dripping stain on the front of his pants a badge of shame.  Even though he avoided it, he still heard Devin’s apologetic mumblings of “Sorry, Tommy.”

 

The mumblings of kids and adults who had infinitely more control over their bladders than he, faded as Mom shut the bathroom door behind them.  Steering him by his shoulders, Tommy was maneuvered to the toilet.  Without waiting, warning, or asking, Mom pulled his pants and soaked  trainers down to his ankles.  Poor James the Red Engine.   “Sit down.”  Her tone was not scolding.  There seemed to be a great deal of patience behind it.

Tommy sat down as he was told.  Not even caring that he was half naked.    “Yes ma’am.”

“Go pee-pee,” she instructed, peeling off his shoes and socks and working his pants off.  “Get anything you’ve got left out.”  

 

Tommy strained and flexed his bladder.  Nothing.  “I think I’m empty.”   He was bare from the waist down.  Mommy was folding up his wet pants and slipping it into a gallon baggie that she’d been keeping in her purse. 

 

When that was done, Mommy opened up another compartment of her big bag.  “Let’s get you into some play clothes, hon.”

 

Young master Dean felt his heart skip a beat.  “Play clothes?”

 

She took a packet of baby wipes; not quite as big as the ones Nanny had had; more of a sample pack or travel size.   “Stand up.”  He did so without question.  He waited and breathed in shallow, wincing breaths as his mother wiped his penis and public area for him.

 

Nex out came something blue and red and crinkly with a certain wall-crawling web slinger plastered all over.  “Spider-Man diapers?”

 

“Not diapers, honey,”  Mom corrected him.  “Goodnites.  You’re still a big boy.”  She didn’t see how his face fell. I was going to have you put this on later,” she said.  “In case the party ran late and you fell asleep on the car ride home.  Looks like we gotta do it now.”

 

“Yes ma’am…”  Tommy tried to hide his embarrassment.

 

She popped them open and Tommy stepped in.   “I also think we may have to look into something a little more absorbent than your training pants.  You might have to wear these during the day.”

 

“Yes ma’am…!” he did his best to hide his excitement.  She slid them up his hips for him, and he bit his lip to suppress a smile.  Mom went back and started digging around in her purse.   “I’ve got a pair of shorts in here, somewhere.”   She did.

 

Tommy stepped into those and then put his socks and shoes back on all by himself.  His trainers had been absorbent enough at least to at least spare them.  “I’ll finish cleaning up in here,” she told him.  “Go play.”

 

Tommy stumbled out of the bathroom and back into the birthday party.  The kids throwing him pitying looks as he walked back out to the backyard.  A pinata was being set up by one of the adults.  After his freak out and accident, Tommy felt terribly conspicuous.  The only highschooler at a kid’s birthday party.  Moreso, he swore he could hear the crinkle in his baggy shorts every step he took, and he still had the button up shirt on. 

He’d come to the party looking like a toddler who’d been dressed by his Mommy.  Now he looked like a Toddler that had been allowed to dress himself.

 

“Hey Tommy!”  one of the kids called, breaking him   “You wanna play on the tire swing?!”

 

“DO I?!”

[Personalias]

Chapter 23-The call back
And I feel it in my veins

It's a feeling I can't tame

Can anyone please explain

Why, why, why

Why I'm bouncing off the walls
 

 

BONG! BONG! BONG!

Tommy  sat up in bed, barely registering the squish of his wet Goodnites.  The last thing he’d remembered was nodding off in the backseat of Mom’s car.  Mom must’ve carried him in.  Changed him, too.  He hadn’t been wearing pajamas before. 

The young man frowned.  These weren’t his magic jammies, the ones that were the golden and runed suit of armor.  If he was going to defend Malacus, he’d need the armor, wouldn’t he?

It didn’t help that he was wet; not that he was uncomfortable.  Far from it. It was infinitely preferable to the thick padded undies and plastic pants he’d been wearing to bed.  Tommy knew he was wet, but it wasn’t the same kind of wetness-cold and clammy-that came with wet pants.  The goodnite had done its job and if not for the clock, Tommy would have slept through the night. 

Still...it might be hard to go be the Titan and hero of Malacus with sloshing squishy undies. Did he have time to change?

 

BONG! BONG! BONG! 

That was decidedly a ‘no’.  Dry pants could wait.  Taking a deep breath, Tommy shuffled out into the living room.  The old clock didn’t look quite so beaten up.  It’s varnish less chipped, it’s glass only a little cracked.  Out from the open panel- the door to Malacus-  an airy mist billowed out.

“That’s new,” Tommy whispered to himself.  

 

Taking a deep breath, Tommy turned sideways, ducked and went into the darkness, once more.  The passageway into Malacus felt different this time.  The darkness didn’t seem as mysterious or ominous.  The cool parts beneath his feet seemed less chilly, the rocky walls not as jagged.  They were still there.

It was kind of like a diaper versus training pants.  Both were bulk and cushioned.  Both were decorated with brightly colored cartoon characters. Both could be peed in.  But one was distinctly more pleasant than the other…

The passageway was subtly transforming, too.  Or maybe he was just getting used to it.  The details were becoming more familiar to them, and so the shock was lessened, with familiar sensations being filed away to his unconscious.

 

What hadn’t changed, was the glowing algae on the wall before the final entrance.  “Thomas Dean”, Tommy read his own literal hand writing.   He didn’t feel much like a Thomas Dean.  He didn’t feel like a Tom Dean either.  Given his druthers, he would have written ‘Tommy’ and be done with it.

There was a thought.  But as his outstretched finger went closer to the rock, the algae started to glow.  And with the glowing, a kind of low electrical hum sounded; almost like a growl.  “What the…?”

 

Tommy drew back his hand, and the algae dimmed once again, the low hum diminishing with the light.  But when he reached out again, the wall became neon blue, the volume of its hum directly corresponding.

Experimentally, he reached out to touch the letter “T” that he’d written, slowly moving his pointer finger closer and closer and hearing the low hum increase in volume.

TZIT!  

When his finger was less than a millimeter away, a tiny blue spark leapt out and zapped him.  “YOW!  FUCK!”   Tommy yelped.  It was like being stung by an electric bee.

 

“UCK-UCK-UCK,” his voice echoed.

Angrily, Tommy shook his hand and stared at his stung finger as if it had betrayed him.  When he raised his hand again, the algae hummed louder, and a crackle of energy rippled through Tommy’s name.  “The wall doesn’t want me to touch it?”

Tommy huffed.  Okay.  Fine.  He didn’t need to rewrite his name.  It was a silly idea to begin with.

Just before he ducked into the final opening, he checked his Goodnite.  Wet. But still comfortable.  A pang of self-consciousness rang out in his mind.  The might hero returning in what was basically a Pull-Up for bedwetters.  Not that dwarves and elves and centaurs knew what a Pull-Up was.  And there was the bright side that as soon as he fell through and landed in the Mana Pool, everything would be soaked beyond recognition, (assuming his jammies didn’t turn into something badass).

But as he took that final drop, he stopped freefalling. He was still plummeting, but it was guided this time.   Something soft and airy, like an inflatable raft caught Tommy, and far faster than he would have liked, started sliding and rolling downwards.  That’s what this was!  A giant inflatable slide!


“OOOOF!” Tommy exclaimed as the air rushed out of him.  “UG-UG-UG-OOOF-OCK-UG!”  The sky and the ground in the horizon became dance partners.  If it hadn’t been so unexpected, it might have been kind of fun.

The final splash of freezing cold water never came, instead being replaced by a hollow crackle and clatter.  Instead of the darkness and air starving depths, Tommy found himself buried by a deluge of rainbow colored rocks that both cushioned his fall and buried him.

 

Legs pumping, his feet could not find enough purchase to properly swim or leap to the surface.  He could still breathe, but he was floundering- half climbing half thrashing half swimming up to the top.  Red. Green. Yellow. Blue. The most basic of colors swirled around him as he paddled up from the softball sized rocks.

Given his superhuman strength and near invulnerability, one might forgive Tommy’s mistake in thinking they were marvelous rocks all polished to a uniform smoothness. They weren’t rocks, but hollow plastic balls!  Tommy had fallen down a slide and into a giant ball pit!

Just as his hand breached the  surface, he felt a strong and familiar grip grab his wrist and lift him out, first by the wrist, then by the armpits.

Dangling by the armpits like a four year old, Tommy gazed in disbelief at the centaur.  “Nox?”

“Hello, friend Tommy!”  
 

[Personalias]

Chapter 24- Old Scene, New Rules

And if you're feeling cross and bitterish

Don't sit and whine

Think of banana splits and licorice

And you'll feel fine

“Friend Tommy!”  Nox, the centaur beamed as Tommy dangled by his armpits.  “It’s good to see you again!”

Reflexively, Tommy grabbed at the burly centaur’s forearms, trying to force the horse-man to let go of him.  The arms didn’t budge even an inch.  His strength had failed him!  It was gone!  “Nox!” he shrieked.  “Put me down!  Put me down!”

The centaur seemed confused, as if Tommy was making a bizarre request. He seemed vaguely uncomfortable, as if Tommy screaming at him and demanding to stand on his own two feet was strange indeed.  “My apologies, m’friend,”  Nox, said.  He put Tommy down.

The shrinking effect that Tommy noticed back in the real world persisted here.  The centaur hadn’t gotten taller since last time; Tommy had just lost a few more inches.  Something was different about Nox , though.   As a centaur, Nox had a certain animal musk about him; not unpleasant, but decidedly not human.  Here he smelled...well...clean.  Almost soapy, like someone who’d just sudsed up in the shower.  His hair wasn’t as ragged, either, more clean cut.  Nor was his beard as shaggy.  Nox’s resemblance to his more clean cut (former) Math teacher, Mr.  Jordan, was even more apparent.

Tommy was different, himself.  His Spider-Man jammies had transformed, sure enough, but not into the glorious golden armor of Tom the Titan.  Instead he was wearing a plain white t-shirt and overalls.  Tommy was no stranger to overalls, for sure: A little hick town like Scrumpton, Georgia still had its fair share of good ol’ boys who wore them when working outside, usually with at least one strap hanging off their shoulder and no shirt. 

But Tommy’s weren’t made of the rough cheap denim of road workers; but something more light and breathable, with light green pinstripes running down.  These stopped at his knees, too, giving Tommy a decidedly less blue collar rough and tumble aesthetic than most overalls for boys his age.  Maybe it was the color scheme, but he couldn’t help but think of the Sound of Music; the scene where the children had play clothes made out of old curtains.  The girls were all in dresses, and the boys were all in cloth overalls that went down just above their knee.  This was a little like that; a modernization of the same style.

Play clothes.  For a child.  The muted crinkle and slight squish between his thighs signaled that not everything about his garments had changed.

“Nox?” Tommy looked up at the dapper centaur.  “Why is there a slide and ball pit in the mana pool?”  He pointed backwards, accusingly, to the little lake filled with plastic balls.

The centaur frowned, confused, as if Tommy had just asked a very simple question in a way that demanded a very complex answer; like ‘Why is the sky blue?’ or ‘Why do I have to go to school?’.

 

“Because, friend Tommy,” Nox answered, “we are at peace.”

“What does that have to do with the mana pool?”

Nox scoffed as if Tommy had said something absurdly funny.  “I sometimes forget, friend Tommy, that you are not of Malacus.”  Tommy frowned and felt his bottom lip start to stick out, but if Nox was offended or noticed, he didn’t show it.  “Does Earth Realm have moats, friend Tommy?”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to scoff.  “Of course Earth Realm has moats!” He crossed his arms a moment.  “I mean...we used to...I’ve seen them...in movies.”

“Movies?”

“Nevermind.  Yes, I know what a moat is.”

“The mana pool is like a moat. When we are at war,” Nox gestured to the rainbow colored slide,  “the bridge goes up and the pool fills with water.  It is a long drop and freezing water that awaits the unwelcome intruder.”

“But when it’s peaceful, it’s a slide into a ball pit?”

Nox nodded approvingly. “Precisely, friend Tommy.”

Something else itched at the back of Tommy’s brain.  “Why do you keep calling me 

Friend?

”

Nox nickered.  “Are we not friends?”

“Yeah…” Tommy said.  “Yeah we are.  Just, the last couple of times I’ve been here, you and everybody else on my side called me ‘m’lord’.”

“We were at war, friend Tommy.”

“So I’m only  ‘m’lord’ when it’s war?”

“Yes.”

 

Tommy thought about it.  He remembered in History class (before he got bumped down to remedial) something about ancient Rome.  Originally, a dictator was someone who took over in a time of crisis when snap decisions had to be made and democracy would have been too slow. But once the crisis had passed, they’d turn power back over to the people and let democracy take its course.  It wasn’t until later that the term dictator took it’s negative connotation.  “So I’m not a king, but a dictator?  Like a Roman one?”

“You do roam from realm to realm, friend Tommy.”

Intentional or not, Tommy let the word play go.  “Is that why I’m not strong anymore?”

“Aye, m’friend.  Malacus doesn’t need a Titan of Man to protect it.”

“Then what am I even here for?”

At this, the centaur looked genuinely hurt.  “I’m sorry, friend Tommy.  I thought we were friends, you and I.  Do you need to be fighting something for us to spend time together?

A pang of guilt wracked Tommy’s brain.  “I didn’t mean it that way.”  He did, in fact, mean it that way.  He’d been quietly hoping to bust some heads.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“I forgive you, m’friend.” 

There was a silence, and Tommy couldn’t help but stare back down at his bare feet and trace awkward circles in the grass.  “Are we at least still on the back of a giant flying turtle?”

Nox’s laughter practically shook the ground.  “Of course, m’friend.  We are still on the back of a giant flying turtle.”

Tommy licked his chops.  “Cool.  Cool.  So uh...there’s nobody to fight?”

“Nay, m’friend.”

“Heh...you said ‘nay’.”  War or peace that one never got old.  “So what else is there to do?”

 

The horse-man scratched his nose and twitched.  Tommy got that look whenever he had a particularly jagged booger that needed picking but he didn’t want to be rude and go digging for gold.  “We could go on a quest,” he suggestion.

That perked Tommy up a bit. “A quest?”  Tommy didn’t know what a quest was in this context, but it sounded kind of fun.  “Are quests fun?”

 

“Aye, m’friend. Most amusing.”  Nox patted Tommy on the head. He grinned.  “And I’d be honored to accompany you and your first!  You never forget your first!”

Tommy felt his heart pounding.  “Alright!  Let’s quest!”

“Hop on my back m’friend!”  Tommy half walked half waddled to the centaur.  No saddle.  No super jumping, and Nox wasn’t moving to boost him with his arms.  Tommy let out a little cough...hoping that would be enough.  

 

It was.  From behind, a long prehensile, almost monkey-like tail snaked around Tommy’s waist and boosted him up onto the horseman’s back.  His legs straddling the horse part, Tommy felt the pulpy squish of the wet Goodnite beneath him more accutel than ever.  It was impossible to ignore.  “Nox?” Tommy asked.  “Didn’t you have a scorpion tail before?”

 

“Nay, m’friend,” Nox assured him. “Why?”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked.  “I could’ve sworn that-”

“Excuse me, m’friend,” Nox interrupted.  “But is there something different about your smallclothes?” 

Tommy blushed.   “Smallclothes?”

“Your breeches m’friend.  It feels like there's a thin cushion between my back and your bum.”

Tommy’s eyes shot open.  He wasn’t the only one feeling the night diaper.  “Oh, that?” he bluffed.  “Transformed when I got here.  It’s called an under-saddle.  Popular for horseback riding in Earth Realm.  Less mess...” Crud! Why’d he say mess?!  “I mean muss.  Don’t have to take the saddle off and on if it’s beneath your clothes.”

Nox pawed at the ground like an adult suspiciously tapping his foot. “Are you su-?”

“QUESTING TIME!” 

Nox took off at a full gallop through the forests growing on the back of the giant sky turtle with Tommy hanging on for dear life and grinning like an idiot; Nox’s tail wrapped around his midsection to steady the boy.  As the centaur made that first terrifying leap at the end of the shell, Tommy heard the faintest screeching in the wind... a distant bird.

[Personalias]

Chapter 25- New Neighbors

Charlie played with his toy turtle, scooping it through the air and making whooshing noises like it was some kind of reptilian fighter plane.  It was just after bath time, and Charlie was playing on the carpet of his nursery in just his diaper while Mommy was switching into her night robee

It was kind of the routine.

The turtle was supposed to be a bath toy; a cute buoyant thing with a concave bowl in the shell that little nick-nacks could nest in.  Charlie just liked to fill it up with water.  It brought back fond, almost forgotten memories.

Under normal circumstances, Charlie left the toy turtle in the tubby where it belonged.  But he whined and begged and complained until Mommy finally understood the message and let him keep the toy after he was toweled off.  Sometimes it was so hard for grown-ups to understand him, that Charlie was tempted to limit his speech to mewls and babbles and whines...maybe a few two word sentences here and there.  It was how most of the other babies his age did it, and all that the grown-ups understood. 

One time he’d gone through the trouble of reciting the preamble to the constitution.  Nothing fancy, but full of non-toddler language. All that day he’d done it, but Mommy and all the other grown-ups just gave him the same responses of “Uh-huh” and “That’s nice”  and “Oh yeah?” and “Really?”.  They weren’t hearing him.  Sometimes it was easier to just whine and tantrum and coo and get loved on for it.

BONG! BONG! BONG!

 

Charlie snapped his head up.  “The clock!” he whispered to himself.  He knew that toll anywhere, even after all these years.   What was it doing so close to here?  It could only mean one thing: Malacus had come back to Scrumpton. 

 

 Over the years, whenever a new kid was brought into daycare, just before they completely cracked, Charlie would manage to overhear their ramblings before it went into full on babblings.

 
There had always been mentions of worlds underneath beds (before they turned into cribs) and closets and cupboards and mirrors and wardrobes and holes in the ground.  At least once it was something about a cardboard box in an attic.  But never a clock.  That meant that kid he’d seen the other day…

Where was that noise coming from?

“Okay, Charlie,” Mommy said as she came in.  Her robe was already open, her breasts engorged.  Other than her silvering hair she looked exactly as she had the day when the Charlie had found that clock.  “Time for one last bit of num-nums.”

“Mommy! No!”  He cried out.  Looking over to the window.  “I hear the clock, Mommy! I hear the clock. No!”  He picked himself up and ran to the window, trying to show her, trying to let her know.  “Look!”

“Oh yes-yes-yes!”  Mommy cooed, a smile plastered on her face.  “It’s time for num-nums, then bed.”

Charlie was already cradled in her arms before he could protest, her nipple brushing against the corner of his mouth. Instinct and routine kicked in and he latched on; suckling and moaning even as he struckled.  A few gentle pats on his back and some slight bouncing quieted him down.  “Shhhhh, that’s right.  That’s right.  Good baby.”  She started swaying slowly, rocking him to sleep.  At least she was still by the window.

 

Trying to keep his lids from shutting and his eyes from rolling into the back of his head, struggled to power through the ecstasy and keep his eyes trained on the window along his periphery.  In the empty lot by their house, a heavy fog rolled in, a sentient mass of clouds obscured everything outside.

 

The sounds of clicking and clacking could be heard through Charlie’s window.  Earth being moved and paved.  Framework being put up. Bricks being laid and plumbing and electrical being installed and rigged up.  All in a matter of seconds.  Charlie couldn’t see it because of the mist (and his mother’s boob in his face) but he could sure as hell hear it.

The sleep started to overtake Charlie.  His lids were drooping.  His tummy was getting full.  Unconsciousness would claim him, and he’d most likely awaken just in time for Church tomorrow.

BONG! BONG! BONG!

That sound!  Charlie unlatched and craned his neck just in time to see:  Like steam on a skillet, the mist evaporated up into the air.  Where once there was an empty lot and a patch of grass, a new two story house stood.  So that’s what it looked like from the outside.  He felt his diaper warm and become damp, and this time it wasn’t just because he hadn’t had his potty training for well over a decade and a half.

“See you soon, kid…” Charlie whispered.

“Time to switch,” Mommy cooed, moving him over to the far tit.  Charlie closed himself off and just enjoyed the milk; the warmth; the intimacy.  No point in worrying about things he couldn’t control.  Speaking of which, he hoped Mommy plugged in the wipe warmer.  It’d be easier for him to stay asleep during a change if the wipes were warm.

[Personalias]

Chapter 26- New Adventures.
You'll have a treasure if you stay there,

More precious far than gold.

For once you have found your way there,

You can never, never grow old.


In the great forge hall of the dwarves, Tommy stood aghast  .“Leadshoulder?”  All around, the great burning song forges of the dwarves were dark and cold.   Where once great anvils hammered hot to keep rhythm of the magic forging songs, now were tremendously tall shelves   Shelves wasn’t completely accurate, however.  

When Tommy thought of shelves, he pictured flat surfaces with books resting on them in neat orderly rows.  This was more like a wine rack with lattices criss crossing at diagonals creating fist sized diamond shaped holes.  Rolled up scrolls made of ancient looking parchment took up each space, with bits of colored ribbon binding each scroll and drooping out of its resting place.  Tommy had caught a glance and saw that the same dwarven runes were written on the bits of ribbon; the titles perhaps.

The great booming forge had become a quiet library.  Dwarves who had once feasted and sang at the mead table now sat quietly at it, contemplating writing.

None of that caught Tommy off guard nearly as much as looking at

“Aye, Tommy, m’friend,” the dwarf nodded. “It is I.  Why do you ask?” He still looked vaguely like Trevor Macintosh stretched over a dwarven frame, but there was so much difference that it was startling.   No ornately runed armor, just a simple tunic with a hempen belt.  In place of a battle helm was a floppy sack of a hat.  Even his rough beard that he’d been so proud to have grown had shaved down to stubble.  He’d gone from looking like something out of Tolkien to an extra in a Disney movie.

It was also a bit disturbing that he had an inch or two on Tommy, now.

“You look so...so...different, is all,”  Tommy said.  “No armor.  No beard.”  Looking around, Tommy saw almost none of the dwarves had beards.  Most were white and barely wispy things compared to the thick and bushy beards that he remembered.”

Leadshoulder smiled politely. “It is peace time here in Malacus, m’friend.”

“And the beards and armor were only for war…” Tommy finished the sentence.

“Just so.”

The young man curled his mouth to the side.  “You didn’t mention all these changes before,” he said.

“It had been a long time since we’d had peace,” the dwarf replied.  “Never thought we’d live to see it. But now elves and centaurs, and dwarves are all harmonious, thanks to you.”  Tommy dug his hands in the pockets of his shortalls.  “I see your garments are changed, too.  No more armor.”

Tommy looked away.  “Yeah…” As oddly comfortable as these clothes were,  he really did miss his golden armor.

Seeming to sense Tommy’s discomfort, Leadshoulder changed the subject “What brings you here?”

“We seek a quest,” Nox said, plainly.

Leadshoulder clapped his massive hands together.  “A quest!  That sounds like a delightful way to spend an afternoon!”

Tommy felt the centaur’s strong hand on his shoulder.  “It will be friend Tommy’s first.”

Trevor’s doppelganger’s eyes widened with a sense of nostalgia.  “Your first quest!  Oh you’ve come to the right place, then!”  It vaguely reminded Tommy of when he was a kid and friends were telling him how great a certain flavor of ice cream was or a really good movie.  ‘Oh you gotta try this! Oh you gotta see that!’.  That kind of thing.

“What is a quest, anyways?”  Tommy asked.  “Why didn’t we do quests before?”

“I already told you, m’friend,” Nox began.

Leadshoulder silenced him and held up his hand.  “I think I can explain it better, friend Equestrinox.”  When the centaur did not object, he continued.  “Malacus is imbued with magic; deep powerful magic.”

“Uh-huh…” Tommy said.  “I know.”

“And on Malacus, Magic is a naturally occurring resource.”  The dwarf was speaking kindly, but slowly, like he was explaining a basic arithmetic problem to a kindergartner.

Tommy wasn’t complaining. “Sure,” he said.

“In times of war,  the magic becomes harnessed for war.  Hydragons are bred.  Elven mind control magic is spun.”

“Armor is sung into existence?”

Leadshoulder nodded.  “It is raging river water being harnessed to power destructive mills.”  Okay.  Not the best metaphor, but Tommy understood. But when Malacus’s magic is left to its own devices during times of peace, it becomes a pleasant stream to take a swim in.”

Tommy scratched his head.  He started to shift about slightly, but the crinkling sound from his hips made him self-conscious.  “So it’s like a field trip?  A field trip to find good magic?”

Leadshoulder’s smile was nearly identical to Trevor’s: Kind.  Patient.  And slightly condescending.  “Exactly.  For some on Malacus, questing becomes a kind of professional sport.  Try to complete the most quests in a day for example”

“Oh...okay…” Tommy said.  “So what quest should I do?”

The dwarf gestured to the racks of scrolls.  “You pick a quest, m’friend!”

“Pick a quest?”

Nox clip-clopped forward.  “Whenever enough magic pools in an area to create a quest, a questing scroll forms.“  As if on cue, a new roll of paper materialized in an empty slot.  Nox pulled the scroll and examined the ribbon without opening it.  “Harvest and eat world’s biggest turnip…?”  The intonation made it sound like a suggestion.

Tommy arched an eyebrow.  “Why would I want to do that?

“If you can eat it, you can eat anything,” Leadshoulder said.  “Literally.”

Nox picked another scroll.  “Staring contest with the queen bee?”

“Why would he want to be able to turn anything he touches into honey?” Leadshoulder scoffed.

The gears in Tommy’s head finally started turning.  He stepped forward and between his two magical friends.  “So you mean that if I finish a quest, I get superpowers?”

Both of them looked supremely amused.  “Aye, Tommy.” Leadshoulder said.  “Why else would you try to get a bee to blink?”   

“THAT IS SO COOL!”  Tommy was practically bouncing.

“No freezing powers, m’friend.”  Leadshoulder said. “Not allowed.  Too close to warlike.  If it were winter, you might get a snowball power but…”  Leadshoulder stopped.  A beefy finger poked Tommy lightly in the chest.  “That’s it!”

“What’s it?”  Nox asked.

“The dragon!  The quest of the dragon!  It’s right there on your tunic!  It’s a sign!”

Tommy looked down. “Dragon?”  It was slightly obscured, but sure enough, there was a tiny green dragon on Tommy’s shirt.  Had that always been there, he wondered.

“It’s impossible.” Nox argued.  “No one ever does it because they’ve long given up.”

“Which is why friend Tommy should try it!  He could do it!  The lad is very clever!  VERY clever!”

“Excuse me,” Tommy said.  “What is the quest of the dragon and what happens if I complete it?”  Considering anything martial was out, Tommy very much doubted that  it had anything to do with breathing fire (or acid or lightning or cold).  

Nox sighed.  It was a defeated gesture; very much like a teacher who’d been run ragged.  “Flight.  Anyone who can solve the quest gains the ability to fly so long as they’re in Malacus.”

Flight!  Like Peter Pan?  Oh how wonderful would that be!  Tommy wracked his brain.  There was a catch.  There was always a catch with this sort of thing.  “What happens if I can’t complete the quest?”

“You’ve wasted a day.”  Leadshoulder gave nox a knowing elbow to the flank.  “No risk beyond frustration.”  He reached over and withdrew a very old looking scroll; it’s paper yellowed, it’s ribbon golden.  “Unwrap it and it’s yours to undertake m’friend.”

Tommy pulled the ribbon and unrolled it.  Nothing.  Right there in front of Tommy’s face was just old, yellowed paper with no writing on it.

Then BAM!

Flashes of golden light blinded Tommy causing hims to shout out.  As his vision cleared, he saw the glowing runic letters flashing and cooling into dark black ink.  “So cool!”  Tommy said.  He stared at the writing a bit longer, waiting for some other sign.  “Uh...what do I do now?”

“You read it,” Leadshoulder said simply enough.

Tommy stared at the runes.  They were little more than stylized chicken scratch to him.  “I can’t…”

“Here lad,” Nox took the scroll from Tommy’s hands.  “Allow me.”

“What’s it say?” Tommy asked.

The centaur squinted.  “What has a mouth but never talks? Always runs but never walks? What has a bed but never sleeps? Has a head but never weeps?”

“It’s a riddle,” Leadshoulder proclaimed.

“Aye,” Nox agreed.  “But what’s the answer?”

“Perhaps a Wabberjocky.”  The dwarf speculated.  He noticed the confused look on Tommy’s face.  “Nasty things.  They just lie around and scream all day.  Terrible nuisances.”

“Mayhaps.”

“It’s a river,” Tommy said.  “Mouth of a river.  Running river.  River bed.  The head of a river.”  He’d known that one forever.  “Is there a famous river in Malacus?”

A light of recognition came to Nox’s eyes.  “The boy’s a genius!  To the River Bank!”

Tommy was so proud in that moment that he felt he was glowing.  His skin was hot and tingly, but in a good way.  So proud was he as Leadshoulder slapped him heartily on the back and lifted him back up onto Nox’s rump, that he almost didn’t notice how his Goodnite was starting to sag just a little more.

Almost...

[Personalias]

Chapter 27  Unexpected developments

If you trust in your song

Keep your eyes on the goal

Then the prize you won't fail

That's your grail

That's your grail

“This isn’t what I had in mind when you said we were going to the riverbank,” Tommy said to his centaur companion.

Both he and Nox stood at the edge of what was technically a river.  The keyword in this scenario was ‘technically’.   When thinking of rivers, Tommy (like most people) presumed water was involved.  An understandable if predictable mistake considering where he was.  Nothing was ever as it seemed in Malacus, Tommy was realizing.  

Dwarves pounded anvils only so they could keep a steady rhythm and sing their miraculous creations into life.  Elves inscribed unspoken mind control magic into the floors beneath their feet; creating a kind of hypnotic snare trap.  A Mana Pool was literally a magical pit filled up that could be swam (or drowned) in.  

Still, the seemingly endless flow of gold coins rushing past him, clinking and clanking like little shifting plates of armor was a little on the nose.  “This is the River Bank,” Nox said in a gruff and frank voice.  “Out of all the rivers in Malacus, this is the most likely to contain what we’re looking for.”

“Scrooge McDuck couldn’t swim through this stuff,” Tommy complained.  

“Who?”

Tommy waved off the question. “Never mind that.  This isn’t a river.  This is a controlled avalanche.  Why here?”

“The Quest of the Dragon is one of the most cherished and difficult quests on Malacus,” Nox explained. “If it were easy all would be flying without wings.”

There was some merit in that thought.  Tommy looked down at the little green dragon hiding just beneath his bib overalls.  Had that been there the whole time.  Whether it had or it hadn’t, didn’t matter.  It wouldn’t aid him in solving his quest.

 Experimentally, and with the quickness of a child reaching into a mousetrap to snatch the cheese, Tommy skimmed his hands along the surface of the rattling river of coins and got a handful of thin gold coins for his trouble.   Even so,  his hand stung.  It reminded Tommy of the time when he was little and he stuck his fingers inside a fan.  “Ouch!”  If this had been water, it would have been white water rapids!

“Careful, friend Tommy,” the centaur warned.  “Much riches flow through the River Bank, but a body can be buried by their own greed...literally.”  

But why gold?” Tommy asked. “And what’s with the runes?”  Indeed, all of the coins Tommy had successful snatched up had the same stylistic runes that had once belonged onto his armor...and the playground back home.

“Gold is the element that best conducts magic.”  Now Nox was sounding more and more like a certain indignant and exasperated teacher that had lectured countless times over bored students that refused to pay attention.  “Why else would it be so valuable?”

Tommy didn’t have an answer for that.  Back home, gold was valuable because humans like shiny things...or maybe gold had the same properties and people just forgot.  “What about the uh..?”  Tommy scribbled his finger in the air to indicate he meant the strange etchings.

“To control the direction of flow of the magic,” Nox said.  “You didn’t think your golden war armor had those markings on it for decoration, did you, m’friend?  Magic has to be channeled properly and in the right directions or else...” Nox scratched his ears.  “How do I put this?”

“Kaboom?”

“Precisely.”  Nox’s ears twitched.  His head jerked slightly to the right; as if he’d heard something, but was trying to focus on the task at hand.  “Most likely, the answer to that riddle- or the next piece of your quest I should say-is somewhere near the bottom.”

Tommy looked at the palms of his hand.  They were still a little red.  “The bottom?”

“Would you prefer to search the River Sticks?”  Nox sounded a little more distracted; not far off as much as slightly agitated.  

“Something wrong?” Tommy asked.  

Nox turned his head to face the boy.  “Um...how to put this delicately?”  the horse-man said  “A boon of my body is that I have two stomachs.  A bane is that when nature calls, it is difficult for me to delay answering it.”  He gestured around, “And there isn’t much privacy.”

Tommy blushed. “Oh...yeah.”  Horses might drop their loads wherever they pleased, but centaurs were only half horses.  In a certain regard, Tommy was lucky for what he was wearing.  He’d answered nature’s call at least twice, but the goodnite dangling around his hips afforded him a measure of privacy (and with it, a sample of dignity).  “If you need to go...I mean...leave...I’ll wait.”

Mr. Jordan’s equine doppelganger patted his stomach and scraped the ground with his back legs.  What might the intestinal track of a centaur look like?  “Thank you m’friend.  I’ll return as soon as I’m able.”  He was galloping away- the sound of frantic hoofbeats already overlapping with his voice before he’d finished the sentence.  “Good luuuuuck.”

Tommy sat down in front of the river of gold.  The clammy squish of his goodnite registering beneath him.  “I’ll need it.”  How the heck was he going to get to the bottom of that river to find whatever the quest required of him.

He looked at the paltry sum of coins in his palm and jingled them around a bit and hummed.  It’d been a bit, but the coins reminded him vaguely of every poor boys summer pastime: skipping rocks.  The river was fairly wide, so at the very least he should be able to skip it a few feet.  Maybe it’d help him think.

The first coin didn’t skip as much as it plopped in the rushing pile, immediately becoming indistinguishable from the horde of coins that carried it along.  “Scuba tank?” Tommy wondered out loud.  No.  That wouldn’t work.  Breathing wasn’t the problem as much as being crushed was.  A lot of gold...a lot of fast moving gold too...meant a lot of weight.

The second coin had a little bit more spin, a little more force.  It’s splash was less like a stone skipping across water and more like a cueball scattering billiards.  Nature of the environment, Tommy supposed.  “Fishing pole?”  he wondered before dismissing it completely.  
Whatever was hidden beneath the River Bank was buried beneath moving solids, not flowing liquid.  He’d need to be the world’s best blindfolded crane game player to pull off something like that.  No dice.  

Tommy looked at the last coin in his palm, it was golden, but no bigger than a penny.  Maybe when Nox was done pooping behind a tree, he’d have better ideas.  Tom the Titan was a great war hero, but Tommy was a pretty cruddy quester.  He wished he was better at this.

He wished...he wished...Tommy stood up! He wished!  He shouldn’t be skipping stones, he should be throwing coins in a well!  Magic was real here, duh!  Closing his palm, Tommy lifted the coin to his mouth and whispered.  “I wish I had what I needed to finish this quest.”  

With a lazy, back and forth motion, Tommy underhand tossed the final coin back in the River Bank.  Rather than be swept over, the coin stopped.  The whole river did.  Coins slowed to a clinking and clattering halt before stilling.

The sound of a million piggy banks rattling around loose change rang out in the air as a sinkhole opened up in the middle of the river, coins clattering down into darkness as Tommy watched, mouth agape.  

The magic did not end there.  For out of the hole, floating slowly up like an angel ascending from the pits of Tartarus was a woman.  Her gown was simple and black, with a white apron and trimmings- a faux medieval twist on the stereotypical french maid’s outfit (and infinitely more modest and concealing besides), but Tommy would have recognized those mischievous mismatched eyes anywhere.

“Nanny?”

“Hello, Tommy.” The Nanny smiled back.  “How are you, little boy?”

“What are you doing here?”  Tommy asked.

“I live here,” she giggled as if Tommy had asked a silly question.  Tommy did feel silly.  She had said she was from Malacus, hadn’t she?

Tommy peered down into the bottomless hole that had formed in the now stilled river of coins.  “You live in a stream of money?”

She giggled, rather coyly, Tommy observed. “Human legends tell tales of ladies who live in lakes.  What’s so strange about a Nanny in a river of gold?”  Well...when she put it like that...

Tommy’s feeling of silliness was short lived,  “But you have solved the first riddle for your quest.”

“I have?”  

The Nanny floated over to Tommy and descended till her feet were upon the soft grass.  “Of course, silly! You’re so smart! Nobody’s ever thought to just wish their way to victory.  The answer was right there in front of their faces.”  Tommy fairly glowed at the praise.  “Grown-ups, huh?”

“Yeah,” Tommy agreed.  “Kinda obvious if you think about it.”

“Now let’s get you what you need, little boy.”  Nanny reached her hand out to the side, and as if peeling back a thick curtain, penetrated the air around them.  “Just a second.”  When she withdrew her hand, she held a very padded and very crinkly folded rectangle in her hand.  To call it ‘cloth’ would be a misnomer.  ‘Cloth-like’ would have been more accurate.

Tommy stepped back half a pace. “A diaper?”  Pampers, more specifically.

“They don’t have these in Malacus, and I’d hate to stick you with a safety pin, while changing you.”

Tommy gulped.  “Changing me?”

Nanny’s mismatched eyes sparkled.  “A silly old centaur might not recognize a droopy wet diaper underneath a pair of shortalls, but I do.”  She waved the diaper lightly in her hand, playfully slapping it into her open palm.  Tommy’s cheeks turned almost sunburn pink.  He couldn’t bluff.  He couldn’t lie.  Not to Nanny.

“But-”

“You wished for what you needed to finish this quest,” Nanny said.  “And what you need right now is a fresh diaper.”  Tommy didn’t say anything.  He just stood his ground, staring at his sneakers.  He didn’t feel much like Tom the Titan; just another little kid with wet pants.  “I’m not going to let you go play in a wet diaper.  That’d be irresponsible Nannying.”

“PLAY!”  The very word energergized Tommy.  Heart rate increased.  Breathing picked up.  Toes wiggled as massive amounts of dopamine were released into his bloodstream.  

“Of course, play.  Isn’t that what a quest is?”  It was true. Pleasure. Vacation. Amusement.  All just really big words to describe forms of play.  And if he was playing, Nanny knew best.

“Okay,” Tommy said.  “Just make it quick.”  He started fiddling with the brass buckles on his shortalls.  “I don’t want Nox to see-”

A gentle hand interrupted his thoughts.  “Not so fast, baby boy.” Nanny whispered.  “Do you know how expensive diapers are?”

Growing up in Scrumpton Georgia in an abstinence only sex-education program, Tommy had a vague idea of how expensive such things were.  The health education room was plastered with posters about the cost of raising a baby, diapers included.  Being unable to get pregnant and very unlikely to have sex anytime soon, Tommy never paid attention to the actual numbers.

“Pretty expensive.”  His stomach gurgled in a kind of agreement.

“And your tummy is making funny sounds.” Nanny pointed out.  “You know what that means.”

Tommy grabbed his tummy.  “No...?”  He left that little inflection at the end, but in truth, Tommy knew exactly what was body was signalling.  He needed to find his own far off patch of bushes to hide behind or whatever.  There wasn’t a latrine in sight.

“If I changed you now.,” Nanny chirped.  “I’d just have to change you again in a few minutes.”

“So you’re saying you want me to…?”  Tommy left the question hanging.  Both of them knew what he was really asking.

Seductively, the Nanny leaned in and pressed her forehead to his; her mismatched eyes twinkling hypnotically.  “It just makes sense, doesn’t it Tommy?”

“I...I...I…”  Tommy stuttered.  The smell of lavender perfume invaded his nostrils, and he wasn’t sure if it was coming from the strange women he’d met on the playground, the diaper in her hand, or both.  Something else besides his diaper was swelling, though the two were in tantalizingly close proximity.  “I can’t.”

“Sure you can, baby.”  Nanny whispered.  “There’s not a potty around for miles, none of your friends- real or imaginary- are around right now, and I’ve got a fresh Pampers waiting just for you.  All I want you to do is to use your diaper for its intended purpose.”

A tiny, very adult voice, in the back of Tommy’s head reminded him that the goodnite wrapped around his butt wasn’t a diaper.  It wasn’t something that was supposed to be peed and pooped in while he was awake; only for bedwetting.  That voice used to be much louder once upon a time, but it had gotten increasingly distant over the last few days.  It was a sad voice.  A lonely voice.  The voice that Tommy had had in his head before Mommy brought the clock home.

His nanny (his nanny?)  must’ve been able to hear that voice too.  “Don’t worry,” she said seductively, “you won’t get in trouble.  Just the opposite.  Just close your eyes.”  Tommy obeyed.  “Bend your knees.” Tommy did.  “Now push.”

Tommy did.  He grunted and pushed, but not with his arms.  He pushed with his guts, pushed with his sphincter, pushed with his will.  He pushed past every last bit of potty training he’d ever had, and little by little, he did as he was told.  It was so weird pooping standing up.  At first he wondered if he was doing it right, but then felt the first bit of mess hit the back of his goodnites.  That’s when he knew.

He breathed deep and pushed again and felt Nanny’s lips gently kiss his forehead.  She was rewarding him, even as the warm mass spread in his pants.  His manhood...manhood?....boyhood?...penis.  His penis continued engorge even as he filled his pants.  The warmth of the mysterious woman’s sweet kisses made him disassociate any disgust he might have or think about what the warmth coming out the back of him was.  Truth be told, it felt VERY good as long as he didn’t think too hard about it, and Tommy just didn’t have enough blood going to his brain.

Very quickly, Tommy’s body, internal inertia, and gravity took over.  He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to.  “Good baby,” Nanny whispered.  “Very good.  Now use it allllll….”  A strong grip between his legs told Tommy what she meant.

Tommy shuddered his way into an orgasm as the woman gripped his genitals through pee-pee’d padding.  “Oh Nanny!” he gasped, falling through his knees as his penis spurted out his seed, adding it’s warmth to match the warmth in the back.

“All empty?” the Nanny asked.

Beyond words and his heart pounding slowly in his chest, Tommy nodded.  “Uh-huh….”  He opened his eyes.

She bared her breasts to him.  “Then let’s fill you up.”   Nanny was also a wetnurse, it seemed.  She lowered to her knees and scooped the boy up, cradling him in his mess and guided his lips to her milky nipples.  Overcome with instinct, Tommy latched on, his tongue licking and teasing as fresh milk.

Warm in front.  Warm in back.  And now so-so warm on the inside as his tummy filled up. Tommy groaned with pleasure, not caring about either load in his pants.  Eyes started to get heavy. “Don’t go to sleep,” Nanny warned.  “It’s not time for nap-nap yet.”

Tommy opened his eyes as she switched him over to the other breast.  How was she cradling him so easily?   Was he getting littler...er...smaller?  

Who cared?  

He lost himself as he latched back on and filled his tummy back up.  The next time he made boom-booms would be easier, he knew.  Nanny’s milk would help him. 

Finally, and yet all too soon, Nanny’s milk ran dry, and Tommy felt the fresh air and sunshine of Malacus back on his face.  

Why wasn’t Nox back yet?  Why did he even want Nox to be here?

His feet had yet to hit solid ground now that his milky snack had finished.  Rather, he found himself draped over the woman’s shoulder, seated in the crook of her arm.  The mush in his pants had since cooled and was now pressed up against him as his back was patted.  “Give me burpies,” she gently commanded him.

A bit of a bubble of hesitation, and then Tommy’s body obeyed.  “UUUUUURP!”

“Oooh!  That was a loud one!” Nanny remarked.  “Good boy!  Such a good burper.  Do you have one more for me?”

In point of fact, he did.  “Uuuuurp.”

“Good baby,” she whispered, before laying him down on the grass.

Tommy moved to sit up.  “Okay...gotta...get…” His words were cut off by the gentle hand on his chest guiding him back down.  

“I’ve got it, sweetie.  Let me change you.  Nanny will take care of it.”

Stupidly, drunkenly, futilely, Tommy did his best to fiddle with the buckles on his shortalls.  

“Not like that, Tommy,” Nanny giggled.  

“Then how?”

In reply, Nanny reached between his legs.  Tommy felt, more than heard, the little snaps along his inseam and crotch come undone.  He definitely felt the cool breeze rushing up his thighs, and saw the nearly destroyed goodnites come into view as Nanny peeled back the bottom half of his outfit as though it were just a skirt.

“Have those buttons been there the whole time?” he wondered aloud.

“Of course they have, Tommy.”  Nanny smiled coyly.  “Snaps make diaper changes so much easier.”  She leaned over his bed wetting pants and tore roughly at the sides.  “Speaking of easier,” she grunted, “it will be a lot easier to change you when all of your diapers have tabs.  No more ripping off sides or pulling down undies...”

“All of my-?”  

Nanny didn’t wait for him to question her.  Tommy stopped asking when he got a good look at his shoes juxtaposed against bright blue sky, and the warmth of his muck covered behind contrasting with the fresh wet feeling of baby wipes cleaning them off.  

He could get used to this.

“You will,” Nanny said.  “Everyone does.”

“Beg your pardon?” Tommy asked, looking up as the old padding was swapped out for the clean diaper.  He could have sworn he’d only thought that last part.

Nanny busied herself powdering him and taping the fresh diaper snugly around his waist.  Filled with a strange kind of guilty curiosity, Tommy craned his neck and looked at the loosely balled up mess  to the side of him.  The night diaper was clearly oversaturated with pee-pee, and there was no mistaking what the brown spots meant; but it would have taken a forensic scientist (if anyone) to find what else the teenager had done in his pants.

No laundry worries.  No crusty socks or jammies.  No discoloration.  The evidence would go to the bottom of a trashcan or a diaper pail, and who in their right mind would take a blacklight to a diaper?  In terms of sexual gratification it was the perfect victimless crime.

And when Nanny finished buttoning the snaps back up and set him on his feet, no one could tell that his outfit was meant to tear off at the bottom.  “Wow…”

His personal assistant/caretaker took him by the hand and lead him towards the stilled money whole.  “Ready to keep playing?”

Tommy bobbled his little head.  “Uh-huh!”  

“Then in ya go!”  She gave him a little nudge and his bottom a little pat.  “Go head.  In you go.  It’s fun.”

Tommy looked down into the blackness.  It was his first day in Malacus all over again.  He looked back up to Nanny.  “You promise?”

“Cross my heart.  Before you fly, one must learn how to fall.”

Breath steadied, the boy who would fly, swung his arms, readying himself.  “One...two….”

“THREEEEEEEE!”   Nanny’s arms gave him a gentle shove, ensuring his courage as he went tumbling into darkness.

This wasn’t like the first time, however.  Once past the edge of the hole there was no plummeting drop into icy cold water.  This wasn’t the most recent time either.  No inflatable slide into a ballpit.  Instead, just like a certain Victorian girl who crawled down a rabbit hole, Tommy wafted slowly and safely down into the darkness.

He landed when the light from above was just a tiny pinprick above; indistinguishable from a single star.  “Where am I?” he wondered.  His words did not echo.

What did happen, was a spotlight shown down from the blackness, a single table highlighted, a golden box, not quite the size of a Big Mac container, placed upon it.  The runes were as alien to Tommy as any of the others.  Thankfully, Tommy could only think of one thing to do; he opened it.

“BEHOLD!” A voice from inside the box boomed.  “HAIL GREAT QUESTER!  YOU HAVE SOLVED THE FIRST RIDDLE OF THE DRAGON’S QUEST?  ARE YOU READY FOR THE NEXT?”

Tommy nodded, grinning wildly.  This game was getting good!

“YOU DO REALIZE THAT I’M A DISEMBODIED VOICE IN A BOX AND CANNOT SEE YOU, RIGHT? IS ANYONE THERE OR DID THE BOX TIP OVER IN AN EARTHQUAKE AGAIN?”

The boy spoke up.  “Sorry.  I’m here.”

“AHA!  ARE YOU READY FOR THE NEXT RIDDLE, OH ADVENTURER?!”

“Yes.”

‘VERY WELL!”  Tommy wasn’t sure how a box could manage to clear its throat, but it found a way.

“IF YOU STEP ON THE DEAD ONES, ALL OF THEM CRINKLE,

STEP ON THE LIVE ONES THEY WON’T EVEN TINKLE!”

Tommy frowned.  Crinkle?  Tinkle?  Did this riddle have something to do with his diaper?  “What’s that mean?” he asked the box.

“IT’S A RIDDLE!  NOW PLEASE PROCEED DOWN THE HALL.!”

A second spotlight lit the way for Tommy to proceed.  Tommy trudged off down the path laid out for him, crinkling all the way.  It felt good to have a fresh diaper on, but was he now on a path that he couldn’t turn back from?  (In more ways than one?)

[Personalias]

Chapter 28: Meanwhile, On the Sky Turtle!

Katlynn screamed as she fell through the darkness of the cave!  She’d thought she was right on Tommy’s heels when she saw his name written in electric blue algae.  If he was, he was probably dead, just like she was.  

Why the hell had she walked into the clock?  Why hadn’t she woken Mom up?  She didn’t know.  She probably never would know, now.  All she did know was that she’d been stirred from her dream by the old clock in the living room going off.

BONG! BONG! BONG!

It didn’t chime that often, she could have sworn; certainly not that loudly.  But when she woke up, she felt compelled to check on Tommy to make sure he was okay.  Twin or not, he needed more care and consideration than she did; it’s just how it was, how it always had been.  The loud noise of the clock could have sent him into a panic attack.

Yet he wasn’t in his bed.  The front and back doors were still locked, and her and Mom’s keys were still on the hooks, (of course Tommy didn’t have his own keys).  The only thing out of place was how the front panel to that old grandfather clock was now wide open.  Leave it to Tommy to want to play hide and seek (and wreck one of Mom’s antiques) in the middle of the night.

Katlynn didn’t find Tommy, though.  She found a strange and spooky pathway through a dark cave.  It was like a certain blonde Victorian girl crawling through a hole, with Tommy as the White Rabbit.  Only there wasn’t the pleasantly slow fall so that she could wave goodbye to her cat.  It’s surprising what goes through one’s brain when they’re plummeting to their doom.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!”  If someone were far off enough, it might not sound like a poor girl shrieking at her imminent death as much as a random bird screeching as it flew overhead.  She was usually more eloquent than this, but “EEEEEEEEEEEEK!” comes out much faster and more efficiently than “Dear God I’m going to die, please forgive me, save me save me save me, I want this to be a dream but I’m so certain that, it’s real I don’t want to die I don’t want to die!”

Her fall lasted less than a second before a strange cushioned feeling,like falling into a safety net, or more accurately; an inflatable crash pad.  Her straight drop turned into a skidding roll as she clattered into a soft clutter.  

Balls?!

Balls?!

Why was she surrounded by balls?  She’d somehow stumbled out of a Guillermo Del Toro film and into the playplace at McDonald’s. Katlynn didn’t swim as much as she jump, climbed to the edge.  She was grateful when a friendly hand reached down to help pull her up; a bit afraid, too, but mostly grateful.

“Katlynn?” a familiar voice asked.  “You’re...early…?” 

On her  knees Katlynn looked up from the grass, and found a familiar face. “Cameron?”  No. Not quite Cameron.  The face was the same, but this girl’s hair was longer; Cameron never needed to tie anything back.  Her dress was infinitely less revealing than anything Cameron might wear, too.  Cameron liked shorts that showed off her legs and shirts that showed off her boobs.  The bonnet was definitely not something Cameron would be wearing outside of Halloween (and Cameron normally wore less clothes for a costume, not more).

The girl in front of her wore something that could best be described as Ren Faire cosplay. She wore a long flowing gown; the kind where the skirt would have to be hiked up in order to run. And although the bust of the dress accentuated the breasts with ruffles, the girl’s flesh was completely obfuscated. Oh and then there was the pointy ears.

“Cameron?” the elven women said.  “My name is Theodosia.”  She helped Katlynn to her feet. “Now come along.  If we dally much longer, your pre-punctuality shall be for naught.”  The woman with Cameron’s face turned around and started walking away.  Her tone wasn’t forceful, but it had an air of authority about it; like a doting teacher.   Her accent seemed different from a moment ago, too.

When Katlynn had been looking down at the grass, she could’ve sworn that Cameron was there beside her.  Now her voice was different.  Her voice more nasally, her syllables  more clipped.  Pseudo-English.  It sounded like Cameron doing an impression- or slipping into character- than how her schoolmate normally talked.

Emotionally off balance, Katlynn ran after Cameron’s doppelganger.  “Cameron!  Wait!”

“I already told you, silly girl,” The lady with Cameron’s voice said.  “I’m Theodosia.  Now let’s go.  We don’t want to be late for tea.”  She turned to go.  The tiny field-the ball pit oasis as it were- quickly ended at a near perfect tree-line.  It was less of a forest and more of a garden.  It lacked that beautiful chaos so often found in nature.

“Late for tea?”  Katlynn echoed, feeling stupid.  Then something clicked.  Tea? Late?  Falling?  Fancy dress and snooty English accents?  This seemed like something out of a certain Disney cartoon.  Katlynn took a moment to examine herself and sure enough her own clothing had changed.  White tights.  Black Mary Janes.  The dress was a light, almost salmon colored pink, but otherwise it was an identical style and cut to the iconic Alice.  “Am I dreaming?”

Cameron’s clone stopped and tittered behind her hand.  “Dreaming?” she said.  “Dreaming?  Dear girl, do you really think that you’d tumble down a ramp into a ball pit only to find out that you’re late for tea in a dream?”

“Yeah…?”

Again, Theodosia as she called herself, giggled through her nose, mouth obscured.  “And I suppose you came to that tunnel that was...what…?...Under your bed?”

“A clock, actually,” Katlynn volunteered.

The prim and proper woman took Katlyn’s hand in her own. “And you still think this is a dream?”

“Yeah…?”

“If you insist, dear.” Theodosia’s tone was cheerfully condescending.  She continued walking, leading Katlynn along.  “If you insist.”  In perfect step with each other, the pair walked into the too-perfect forest.

“Why do you have Cameron’s face?”

“Why does it matter?’ Theodosia replied.  “If this is a dream like you think it is, perhaps it is the only face you can imagine for me.”

Katlynn couldn’t argue with that, logic.  “Okay.  Fair enough.”

A sharp right turn caused the girl to yelp as they came to a second clearing.  A quiet little party was already in progress.  It was much tamer than Katlynn would have expected; perhaps because she lacked the manic imagination to really create something worthy of Lewis Carrol.  The table was perfectly round, for starters, not an absurdly long rectangle  All the cups and pots in perfect order.  There was no funny man with a giant hat or a talking rabbit; and Katlynn suspected there would be no mouse hidden in any of the pots.  

In place of the Mad Hatter and March Hare were two of Katlynn’s friends; two of the very few she counted on. “Jenny?  Margo?”  Like her, they both wore a variant of the ol’ Alice getup.  Over white tights, Jenny wore a sunflower yellow, with a matching bow, and Margo wore a vibrant leaf green dress with a white apron covering.  Margo’s brownish-red hair was put up in pigtails, making her look even more toddlerish than the dress alone might accomplish.  Like the so-called Theodosia, their ears were also pointy like those lame aliens from Star Trek.

The girls giggled at their names, but otherwise said nothing.  “Katlynn,” Theodosia said. “This is Adora, and Ambrosia.”  She gestured to Jenny and Margo respectively.  “We’ll be having a lovely tea party, today.  Please do join us.”  It was a command phrased as an invitation.

“Please, Katlynn! Pleeeease!” The other two were practically bouncing; the bodies of eighteen year olds doing puppy dog eyes and pouty lips.  If peer pressure could be cut with a juvenile guilt trip and turned into a person, this is what it might look like.  They spoke with the same clipped not-quite British accent.

She shrugged.  Seeing as this was a dream, Katlynn figured that she might as well go along with it.  She took her seat in a matching pink wooden chair and scooted herself up roughly to the table.  Adora and Ambrosia, as they were called, had their own matching yellow and green chairs.  There was no matching one for the more elaborately dressed girl.  That was odd come to think of it.  Comparatively, Jenny and Margo’s dream-twins seemed so much more simply dressed than Cameron’s.  Theodosia seemed more mature, more authoritative as a result.  

“Where’s yours?” she asked Theodosia, with not a matching violet chair to be seen.

A thin smile spread across Theodosia’s lips. “I’m the hostess, dear.  It’d be rude of me to be seated before my guests are served.  Don’t you know the first thing about tea-parties?”

Something about that unnerved Katlynn, but rather real or imagined, she really didn’t know the first thing about tea-parties.  This was a dream anyways, so her brain was just making up the rules as she went along.  “I guess not.”

Picking up the pristine white teapot, the pointy eared Cameron went and poured steaming brown tea into dainty cups.

“Thank you, Miss Theodosia,” Jenny/Adora said.  

“You’re very welcome, Adora,” Theodosia replied.

“Thank you, Miss Theodosia,” Margo/Ambrosia nodded her head demurely.

“You’re quite welcome, Ambrosia.”

The tea entered Katlynn’s cup.  She looked at it and squinted.  She could have sworn that the cup had been made of some kind of fancy fine china a second ago.  But the stuff had lost some of its luster with the tea.  As the cup was filled, it seemed more and more to be made of sturdy but altogether cheap plastic.  

“Ahem…” Katlynn looked up to the Victorian school-marm version of Cameron.

“Oh, sorry.  Thank you, Miss Theodosia.”

“You’re welcome, little Katlynn.”

Katlynn took no notice at being called ‘little”.  She was short.  That last growth spurt her pediatrician had promised just before high school had never come.  Holy crud, had she not been to the doctor since middle school?

A quick sip and then Katlynn’s face scrunched up in revulsion.  Being from Scrumpton, Georgia, Katlynn had never had tea that wasn’t sugared into oblivion and chilled to near arctic temperature. Even  the three times she’d had hot tea for a sore throat, there’d been so much honey stirred in that an entire hive could have supped.  This?  This was just hot leaf water.  It was like someone had taken lawn clippings and turned it into a broth.

The other tea drinkers seemed just as off put.  Pointy elf ears wiggled and shuddered as dainty lips swallowed the vile stuff.  “Oh dear,” Theodosia said, setting down the tea pot.  “Perhaps I made it too strong.”

“Yes please!” All three girls responded, putting their cups down. 

Theodosia picked up a sugar bowl and started spooning the powdery white stuff in. “Three scoops a piece and no more.” Cameron’s twin said in her snooty accent.  “You three are sweet enough, otherwise.”

Gingerly, Katlynn took a sip.  Better.  Not good, but better.

“Would anyone like milk?”  Three hands went skyward.  Such a weird dream.  She definitely wouldn’t be telling Jenny or Margo about this.  Cameron wasn’t anywhere in the ballpark of a possibility.  “Would you like Mother’s Milk or Maiden’s Milk?” Theodosia asked Katlynn.

While not a straight A student, Katlynn knew enough to blanche at being offered Mother’s Milk.  “Is Mother’s Milk what I think it is?”

“That depends,” Theodosia smiled coyly, “what do you think it is?”  Not by coincidence, Katlynn felt, Cameron’s elf-twin chose that moment to adjust her breasts.  Also not by coincidence, Katlynn caught a glimpse of her friend’s breasts and realized just how big they were!  Pointy ears and longer more done up hair weren’t the only differences between real Cameron and dream Cameron.

A hot blush flared up on Katlynn’s face.  “Maiden’s Milk, please.”   Just a splash of milky white stuff dripped out of the saucer, transforming the dark brown water into a creamy tan color.  The other guests got Maiden’s milk.  

“Drink up before it gets cold, dears.”

“Heee-heeee!” Ambrosia giggled, her pigtails bobbing as she did.  “It tickles all the way down!”

“All the way through,” the fancier dressed woman corrected.

Straw haired Adora giggled too as she set her cup down on the table.

A shudder rocketed through Katlynn and she let out a full fledged guffaw as she felt her ribs being tickled from the inside out!  She almost dropped the plastic tea cup, as she reflexively hugged her ribs, trying to block invisible fingers that wouldn’t let up, to no avail.  It was good in a way.

“More?” the hostess offered.

“Yes please,”  Katlynn slid her cup closer.

“Good girl.”  Tea, sugar, and milk were served in short order.

The others were getting their seconds, too.  This was a perfectly pleasant dream, once she got used to the weirdness of seeing her classmates in fantasy garb.  She wondered absentmindedly as she took her next sip if she’d wake up giggling.  On a more serious note, she worried if she might accidentally wake up wet.  Mom would be very cross if she did.   “What kind of example are you setting for your brother?” she might say, even though Tommy hadn’t woke up in dry pants since...ever.

A wave of delightful tickles went so far up Katlynn’s spine -starting at the soles of her feet- she had to slam her eyes short to stem the happy tears.  When she opened them, she put her empty cup down and looked to the side so she could wipe her eyes.  When she did, however, something caught her eye.

“What are those?” she said, pointing to the three vehicles parked at the edge of the clearing.  Vehicles was a poor word to describe them, but they were the only vocabulary that Katlynn had at her disposal.  

They were roughly the size of a thin, single bed, but elevated above the ground like a hospital gurney.  The wheels were gigantic however, with fancy spokes, and the surrounding rim almost made it look like a crib. At the foot of the bed was a bar for pushing, and a kind of convertible roof lay at the head.  

Quickly, Katlynn looked to the elf variant of Cameron and back to the wheeled beds.  Something clicked.  Strollers.  They looked like those old timey strollers that babies used to ride in.  Stroller wasn’t the right word; carriage? Yeah. Carriage.  At the edge of the tea party’s clearing were three very big baby carriages.  And just like their dresses and chairs, they were pink, yellow, and green, but not a violet one in sight.

“Excuse me,” Katlynn spoke up.  “What are those?”

All three of the pointy eared dream people looked to where Katlynn was pointing.  “The Prams?” Theodosia said.  A breeze blew across Katlynn’s bare legs, causing her to shiver a bit.

“They’re for taking us home,” the elf-girl in the yellow dress said.

“And naps!” green-dress and pigtails added.

Yellow dress giggled, adding to the banter with even more of a fake British accent.  “And nappy changes!”

“Usually in that order.  Nap and then nappy change.”

“Or nappy change, then nap, then nappy change again!”

Katlynn couldn’t tell if it was the elf girls’ laughter, the elf woman’s approving smile, or the breeze on her legs that made her shiver, but shiver she did.

Bare legs?

Katlynn looked down at her legs to see her white tights receding.  It was as if they were melting, but going up her legs instead of dripping down.  “What the-?” was all she managed to get say before the ground dropped beneath her.  

She was shrinking!  No, not quite.  Instead the chair she was in was growing taller.  Katlyn’s hands were on the edge of the seat, getting ready to slide herself off of the extending chair when - 

THWAP! 

A tray slammed over from above her, sounding like a giant mousetrap, and leaving Katlynn trapped with her arms pinned to her sides.

The other girls at the table got similar treatment, though their arms weren’t pinned down.  More importantly, as their white tights vanished up their dresses, they seemed more than pleased.  “It tickles!”

“All the way through,”  Elf Cameron said.

The tray obscuring her view, Katlynn couldn’t be one hundred percent sure of what was happening to her clothes, but a few of the other girls gave her an idea.

The tights were rising up, merging with their underwear, as the legs of the chairs elongated above the tiny tea table.  Katlynn’s underwear was changing too, her panties were getting thicker by the second.  She heard a crinkle as she squirmed in the seat.  Again, she couldn’t help but flash back to middle school before she had switched to tampons.  

The thing about panties was that unless one was specifically thinking about them, they didn’t feel the thin modesty-protecting garment.  This, though?  Katlynn felt it.  How could she not?  Her thighs were being separated.  She was sitting what felt like half an inch taller.

If what she was feeling wasn’t any clue as to what she was wearing, looking at the other elf girls confirmed what she was wearing.  She knew their panties were thickening as well, because the hems of their dresses were shortening; shortening so much that they probably couldn’t be honestly be referred to as dresses.  Even though the trays and angles obfuscated them a bit, there was no mistaking what the other girls were wearing as anything other than big puffy white diapers; like something a toddler might wear.

She was wearing a diaper, too, Katlynn had to admit.  And judging by the other guests’ dresses, hers just barely covered the top of her own nappy.

Two elven thumbs went into elven mouths as a final round of girlish giggles rang out.  “Pheee-pheee!”

The poor girl barely had time to process as another round of tickles hid her insides.  “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! STAAAAAAHP!” She cried out.  But it wouldn’t.  The tickling was in her armpits.  “Heeee-heee! STAAAAAHP!”  She was crying again.  Then her ribs. “NOOOO-O-O-O! STAAAAAHP!”  Her howls of laughter. Then her tummy, creeping down to her thighs.

IT TICKLES ALL THE WAY THROUGH.

That’s when the highschool senior’s bladder let loose. Even though the tickling continued, Katlynn stopped laughing, such was her shock.  Her mouth agape, and her breath fast and shallow, she was keenly aware as her bladder spasmed and released its contents into her diaper.

One time, she couldn’t quite remember when, Katlynn sat down on a park bench just after a rain.  She hadn’t seen the puddle, but felt it as it spread across her pants, soaking her; subtle at first but then blossoming into full wetness.  Her current experience wasn’t all too dissimilar.  Her diaper was soaking up her accident almost as quickly as she was releasing it, with a growing warmth blooming beneath her and then subsiding into a subtle, muted squish. Was this how Tommy felt whenever he had an accident in his Pull-Ups?

To make matters of worse, either the feeding tray that restrained her had widened, or Katlynn had lost just a few pounds.  Her freedom of movement was still non-existent, however.  Like a snake a kind of harness had slithered around her chest, keeping her back pinned to the seat, and a bib had manifested just over her breasts.

Wanting to scream, but too humiliated to vocalize, Katlynn’s body took over.  Her lips retreated inward and she placed her thumb between them, biting down to distract herself, and giving her digit the occasional suck when the emotions threatened to become too much.

Stuck in a highchair, wearing baby clothes, sucking on her thumb, sitting in a wet diaper.  This was just a step below what Tommy went through almost every day.  If whatever weird genetic condition that expressed itself in Tommy had been passed down to her, this is how she could have ended up.  

This is what this nightmare (and that’s what it was) was about.  This is what was essentially her twin’s life- being treated like a baby even though by all rights he should be an adult.  The only difference is Katlynn was smart enough to be embarrassed by it.  She’d treat him better when she woke up from this, she promised herself.  This was a literal wakeup call

Her nightmare wasn’t over yet.  While she’d finished peeing herself, Nightmare Cameron was replacing the other baby-elves’ thumbs with bottles.  Katlynn was next. “This will help you sleep until you get to Nanny’s.”

Her lips suckled on the rubber nipple and as the ice cold contents entered her mouth, Katlynn’s tongue danced with delight!  This was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.  The phrase ‘an orgasm in your mouth’  to describe particularly delicious flavors had always seemed crude to her, but here it seemed apt.

Theodosia or Cameron or whatever the elf’s name was, saw the look of intense delight in Katlynn’s eyes and seemed pleased.  She nodded.  “Good girl.  This will help you sleep until you get to Nanny’s.”  Yes.  That would be a good way to end this dream.  Swallow the milk.  Orgasm in her diaper.  Then go to sleep.  Then wake up in her own bed.

But before she swallowed that first gulp, Katlynn had the most disturbing thought of all: What if this wasn’t a dream?    This stuff might taste amazing, but that might just make it amazing tasting poison.

As Theodosia turned her back to check on other babies with familiar faces, Katlynn started to grunt and make gulping sounds, all while letting the milk dribble out the corners of her mouth. She was all suck, but no swallow.  Hopefully, her captor wouldn’t notice and once or twice, Katlynn dared to turn her head to the side and spit.  She only had to worry about the pointy eared woman who wasn’t wearing diapers.  The other two seemed like they were in la-la land.

While she worked at her deception, Tommy’s twin was treated to a show of watching Margo/Ambrosia, with her green dress and ginger pigtails being unstrapped from her seat, tray removed from the table, and limp form draped over the now slightly larger woman’s frame and have her back patted.  “That’s right, Ambrosia “ Theodosia cooed.  “Take one for the team.  We can turn you back after this.  Though Malacus knows I’ll tease you about it.”

The elf-baby hybrid with Margo’s face let out a mighty belch and sighed contentedly.  “Good girl.”  

Katlynn almost did an involuntary spit take as she watched what was essentially Cameron pull open the back of what was essentially Margo’s diaper and take a look down inside. Holy shit! Had she pooped herself?  Had Katlynn?  All of a sudden, the young lady felt as if her own potty training was very much in question.

Katlynn kept watching, leerily, as the green carriage piloted itself over, and a pointy eared Cameron laid her green dressed charge down in it.  “Let’s change you, you soggy thing.”   A chorus of cringe inducing giggles filled the air as Katlynn watched a not quite adult get their diaper changed right in front of her.  The fresh Huggies and wipes came from a bag just underneath the carriage.  The used diaper was tossed carelessly into the woods.  

Next was a not-quite Jenny, dressed in yellow and gurgling nonsense.  Katlynn wasn’t exactly experienced in babysitting, but the sag in the back of Adora’s diaper signaled what would be found inside before the elf-sitter peaked inside.  “This suits you, Adora.  It really does.”

While the second diaper change was going on, Katlynn very subtly, very carefully unscrewed the lid and watered the nearest patch of grass behind her highchair.  She could do that much at least.  Finally it was her turn.

As she was draped over the elf’s shoulder, having her back patted, she listened to horrible and confusing things.  “Terribly sorry about this, Katlynn.” The not-Cameron cooed.  She gave Katlyn a few firm pats on the back.  “Truth be told, we were considering letting you go, keeping the family legacy going as it were.  At the very least, we were going to save you for last; ease you into it like your brother.”  

What about Tommy?! 

“But we miscalibrated the clock and woke you up by mistake, and here we are,” she continued.  “It would have been fun to drag this out, actually.   We do love the Wonderland tropes.  Carrol was so much more fanciful than Lewis or Tolkien.  It would be nice to play the refined madam instead of some femme fatale.  Ugh.  Boy stuff.  They’re all better off in nappies if you ask me.”  The pats were coming faster and harder now.  There was a bit of a bobbing gait to her walk.  She was growing impatient.  Katlynn quickly sucked air into her gut and let out a little burp.  It was a trick she’d learned back in grade school and had stopped doing when the girls kept thinking it gross and the boys stopped being impressed.  “Good girl.”

Ever cunning, Kaitlynn didn’t flinch or shudder as she felt her diaper pulled back and inspected; she didn’t recoil as her padded backside was given a gentle pat.  “Just wet.”   The girl was bone still as she was laid down in her own personal carriage.  What she wasn’t was bone dry.  “Still, you’ll sleep better if you have a fresh nappy on.”

Don’t think about it don’t think, about it don’t think about it.

Katlynn tried to not think about the sound of the tapes being ripped open.  But the velcro scritching sounded like fireworks in her ears.  She tried not to think of how loose and disgusting the once snug undergarment now felt.  But now the used diaper was little more than a wet rag on her privates.  Desperately, she prayed for strength so that she wouldn’t fixate on how casually this monster with Cameron’s face was violating her with baby wipes, all while humming a jaunty tune.  Whatever higher power there was didn’t hear her as every stroke and caress felt like a breach of intimacy.  

There’s a strange vulnerability of being half naked in front of someone.  Frankly.  Cameron didn’t like it.  She didn’t have to wait or feel vulnerable long.  When the monster pivoted to toss away the wet diaper, Katlynn made her move.  With a heave, she rolled over and began dragging the carriage with her.  A few strides later, she was rocketing downhill.

In Katlynn Dean’s hand, this wasn’t a baby buggy, it was a land sled!

“Katlynn!” Cameron’s voice called out after her.  “Come back!  You’re too close to the edge of the shell!”

Shell?  What shel-?

For the second time that day, Katlynn Dean found herself plummeting to her death.  The second plummet, however, lacked any kind of safety ramp, or ball pit.  It was also considerably longer.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”  Given her velocity and state of panic, it was much easier to scream than to ponder aloud, “Oh my god I’m going to die;  I’m too young to die; I’m going to die half naked from running away from a diaper change; I’m too old to die half naked from running away from a diaper change; and is that a giant flying turtle above me?!”

It can’t be guessed exactly how long it took for Katlynn to regain consciousness.  What is known, is that she did regain consciousness, very much alive, and with an absolutely trashed baby buggy beneath her.  “They don’t build ‘em like this anymore…”

She shifted, and painfully pulled herself to her feet.  “Where am I?” she wondered, before realizing she didn’t want anyone answering that question.  To the naked eye, it would seem that a too-perfect forest had been replaced by a too-perfect hunting field.  Wide open plains, with only the occasional bush for modesty.  
A quick dig through the wreckage found only diapers, all in her size.  It was still better than than Donald Ducking it or going full Eve, Katlynn supposed.

Trippiest.  Nightmare.  Ever.  

Unfolding one of the diapers, Katlynn found herself staring at it like a grandmaster stares at a chess board...only she had next to no clue how to play chess.  Finally, she decided to wing it, laying down on the ground.  No wonder babies needed help putting these things on.  This really was a two person job.

“I really hope my bed isn’t wet.” She grunted as she awkwardly yanked it up over her crotch and fiddled with the tapes.  Standing up, Katlynn knew something didn’t feel right.  Her cheeks were hanging out the back.  “Ugh,” Katlynn moaned.  “Don’t tell me I put the darn thing on backwards!”

The sound of hoofbeats, and Katlynn’s brain went on high alert.  Like a frightened squirrel she darted for the nearest bush and closed her eyes as the gallop slowed to a standstill. 

“Halt! Who goes there?!” The man on the horse called out. Katlynn remained silent.  Again, there was something familiar about the voice.  It was strong, and masculine, but oddly confident...which made it seem foreign.  No faux British accent at least.  “I know thou art here, interloper.  I sensed you all the way from the River Bank!”

Again.  Katlynn was as still as she could manage.  She couldn’t manage enough.  “I see you trembling from behind that shrub!” the mounted man called out.  “Come out now, or I’ll run you down.”  Somehow, Katlynn sensed that he wasn’t bluffing.  Maybe it was just that mowing people over with a horse wasn’t something that people normally bluffed about.

Wearing nothing but a half-dress and a backwards diaper, Katlynn emerged and connected a face to the voice threatening her.  If she hadn’t already released her bladder at the tea party, then her Huggies would most certainly be wet, now.  

“Katlynn?”  It wasn’t a man on a horse, but a half man, half horse that was looking down at her.  And the man part of the horse was arguably the last man she would’ve guessed.

“Mr. Jordan?”

[Personalias]

Chapter 29: Cruel Temptations
Toucha toucha toucha touch me, I wanna be dirty
Thrill me chill me fulfill me
Creature of the night

Tommy wandered down the tunnel beneath the River Bank. “If you step on the dead ones, all of them crinkle, step on the live ones they won’t even tinkle.” What did it mean?  He supposed if he knew that right off the bat it wouldn’t be much of a riddle.  And if it wasn’t much of a riddle it wouldn’t be much of a quest.

Speaking of crinkle, Tommy could still hear the faint papery crinkle of his new diaper beneath his shortalls.  Still fresh.  Still crisp.  Still dry.  Speaking of tinkle, Tommy knew that the milk he’d drunk was still working its way through his system.  And oddly enough...he was okay with that.  There was something nice about a wet diaper compared to wet pants.  Something nice about a thick and comfy diaper made only thicker and comfier with just a tiny tinkle as opposed to thin, barely noticeable underwear.  Something nice about getting to focus completely on the task at hand instead of being distracted by a rumbling tummy or aching bladder.  And something completely, almost decadently wonderful about one’s clothes being somebody else’s problem.

Too much thinking about the potty, Tommy chided himself.  Too much thinking about diapers, too.  Tom the Titan didn’t think about his glorious armor protecting him; he’d just run straight into battle. Malacus had provided him with the tools he’d needed to thrive.  Likewise, Tommy the riddle master shouldn’t think about the clothing Malacus had placed on him this time and just trust that it would do the job while he did the real work.

“Step on the dead ones and all of them crinkle,” he repeated.  “Step on the live ones, they don’t even tinkle.”  What could it be talking about.

“Hello, Tommy,” the sweet, teasing, very familiar voice, called from down the tunnel.  “I see your shadow coming down the hall.”  Tommy smiled, and his diaper started becoming a little smaller as his manhood started to engorge itself.  

He couldn’t help it.  That voice just had that effect on him.  Amanda’s voice.  Or rather, Ghilanna of the Gilded Leaf, Sorceress Queen of the elves’s voice.  It was complicated.
The tunnel ended in a clearing, and dim magical torchlight and bioluminescent fungus and algae made way towards actual sunlight.  Tommy blinked as his eyes adjusted to the sunlight.  He was still technically, underground- or at least beneath the surface.  The tunnel ended in a kind of pit;  a wide and deep hole piled and piled with junk that nowhere managed to reach the top, but at the very least there was direct sunlight shining down on him.
 “Hello, Tommy,” the elf with Amanda Monroe’s face greeted.  She leaned against a near wall of the pit, with her arms crossed.  No longer dressed in any kind of silken robes fit for a queen, she was clothed in commoner’s rags.  Even in rags she looked stunning. Her hair was a mess.  Tommy curled his fingers as the idea of him running his fingers through that messy hair.

In many ways, Ghilanna was a cat:  Even at her lowest she seemed to have a kind of mysterious dignity and beauty.  Same as when he’d caught her in her bed and defeated her spells.  Just like now that she was in beggars clothes.

Tommy smirked.  “No ‘m’lord Tommy’?” he asked.  “Not even ‘friend’?”  

Ghilanna stopped leaning against the dirt wall.  “I think we’re a little more than friends, don’t you?”

The boy who might yet fly, shuddered a bit.  The shaking wasn’t from revulsion or fear, but of suddenly reliving the intense memory.  Assuming she was real (and why shouldn’t she be?) Ghilanna was his first.  You never forget your first.
“You look...um...different.”  Tommy said.
Ghilanna eyed his shortalls.  “So do you.”

“I decided to wear something more comfortable.”

“Tommy, Tommy, Tommy,”   Ghilanna clucked with her tongue.  “You’re still a terrible liar.”  Boldly, she grabbed his chin in her hand.  “Somebody or something put you in those clothes.” The elf leaned in and whispered,  “And you love it.”

Lacking his super strength, it was all Tommy could do to slap away the intrusive hand and step away from the seductress. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he stuttered out.  “What’s your excuse?  Slumming it?”

Pointy eared Amanda’s mouth twisted and her shoulders drooped.  “If you must know, I’ve had a run of bad luck.”

“Do tell.”
“As it turns out, when there’s no war and universal peace, there’s no borders.  And when there’s no borders and everyone is getting along and things are hunky dory, people don’t feel they need queens.”  She picked up the hem of her ragged skirt and did a crude curtsey.  “Hence, this.”
“Why not use your magic to stay queen?”  Tommy asked.

Ghilanna rolled her eyes; she really was Amanda Monroe in every way save the ears.  “You don’t have your strength either, do you?  War magic goes away when the war is done and settled.”

Tommy averted his eyes and stared at the ground, but he couldn’t help but feel foolish.  The way Amanda/Ghilanna said it made the whole thing seem perfectly sensible and obvious; but Tommy felt like he was grasping at straws.  Sometimes Malacus made perfect sense; other times it felt like the fantasy world was rewriting its own natural laws and making things up as it went along.

“Um…” Tommy said, “So what brings a girl like you to a pit like this?”
Again, the elf rolled her eyes.  “Isn’t it obvious?  I’m trying to solve the riddle to get to the next part of the quest.”

Tommy nodded.  “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What doesn’t is the blasted riddle,” Ghilanna complained.  “Step on the dead ones, all of them crinkle, step on the live ones, they don’t even tinkle.”

“What does it even mean?”

With wide sweeping gesture, the elf woman indicated the junk lying around the room.  “Whatever it is, it has something to do with all of this nonsense.”

Tommy focused his eyes past the adversary with his crush’s reflection.  Junk.  Junk everywhere.  Rusty Nails.  Shiny Bells.  Leaves.  Stuffed Animals.  Rice.  Wooden blocks. Bug carcasses.  Moss.  Coloring books.  Pinatas. Bubble Wrap. Broken Glass. Pitchers of water.  Music Boxes.  All of that and more formed piles around the pit.  It was a junk collection worthy of Mommy Dean herself.

Junk was everywhere, Tommy saw, and it was disorganized for sure (hence junk), but it wasn’t quite random.  The piles were all homogenous.  Like with like.  There was a pile of loose bubble wrap that went up close to seven feet high, and an eight foot tall mound of cellophane wrapped candies, but there was no mountain of bubble wrap and candy to be found.

“What are we supposed to do with this?”

“I THINK we’re supposed to choose the right pile,” Ghilanna said.  “The question is which one?”

Tommy licked his lips.  “Good question.  Which should we try first?”

Another sweeping gesture from Amanda’s doppelganger.  “Be my guest.  You guess is as good as mine.”
A single half-waddling step is all Tommy took before freezing in place and pivoting back to look at Ghilanna.  “This is an Indiana Jones and Last Crusade thing, isn’t it?”
The elf’s nose wrinkled and her brow furrowed.  “You know, Tommy, I’d have an easier time answering your questions if I knew what you were talking about, sweetheart.”

Tommy had to bite his tongue to focus after being called ‘sweetheart’.  “Every pile but the correct one is a death trap, isn’t it?”

Ghilanna deflated a little.  “Death trap?  No.  Disqualifier?  Yes.”

“What happens?”

“You get ejected back to the beginning of the game in that stupid dwarven library,” she pouted.  “And to get back here you have to solve another riddle.”  She huffed and crossed her arms.  “This is my fifth time getting back here.”

“So it’s not always a passage from the River Bank?” Tommy asked.

Ghilanna scowled.  “River Bank?  Ooooh, that’s an easy one.  You got lucky with that riddle.”

“Hey,” Tommy complained, “Nox and Leadshoulder couldn’t figure it out.”

The elf turned her back on Tommy.  “You could write a whole book on the things those two dummies can’t figure out.”

The boy who was Titan, turned his back as well.  Tommy never did like his friends being picked on...even the fantasy ones.  “Whatever,” he said.  “It’s not like fighting is going to help us solve the riddle.”

The elf who was Queen, pivoted and wrapped her arms around Tommy.  “You’re right,” she whispered.  “So why don’t we do the opposite of fighting?”

Tommy’s breath caught for a second.  She enveloped him. It wasn’t until he was in her embrace that he realized just how much bigger than him she’d become.   “You mean…?”

“Let’s get the creative...juices flowing.”  Tommy could have melted into a puddle and been soaked up by his own Pampers just then.  “We’re alone.  And the last time we did this, good things happened.”  She nibbled on his ear.  “For both of us.”
Tommy leaned back into the elf, now bigger than he, as she nibbled on his ear, moaning softly and slowly.  Throwing back his head, he leaned into her breasts.  Even in rags, she smelled like fine oils.  Almost like baby oils.  The thought of her lathering baby oil on him only made him harder.

“Lay down,” she commanded.  Yes.  Lay down.  Good things had been happening to Tommy when he laid down for pretty ladies.  

The elf was on top of him before his back hit the dirt.  Her lips on his; tongue probing in his mouth. Even through the dirty rags her breasts felt amazing.  She started riding him, grinding on his waist while he bucked his hips.

“Ooooh,” he moaned, as his heart started racing.  His hands snaked down and grabbed her by the hips; trying to pull her down on him through his clothes.  “Ooooooooh!”  He moaned for another reason, too.  She felt...heavier.  

Sex was like fractions.  When the bigger sum on top, it was improper.

“Ooooooooh!” she echoed back, oblivious to Tommy’s discomfort.  “Ooooooh!  YES!  Writhe around in the dirty with me my strong Titan.”  

Something was wrong.  Tommy knew it by the third thrust and the second sentence out of the elf’s mouth. Just then, being called strong and brave and bold didn’t make him feel so good.  “Tell me I’m cute,” he grunted.  “Call me cute.”
They didn’t stop bucking, but Tommy felt he was losing steam.  “Oooooh! Writhe in the dirt with me, by cute Titan!”   Damnit.  Not what he meant.  And he was dry, too.  There was none of the pulpy warm squish. A wet diaper was thiiiis close to a pocket pussy. A dry one? For all intents and purposes, he was trying to dry hump one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen through a pillow.

“Hrrrnn,” she growled.  “Disrobe.  Take your clothes off!”
Fingers fumbled clumsily for the buckles on his shortalls, but the brass wiring wouldn’t budge off of the breast buttons.  “I can’t…”
Slender yet strong fingers jiggled with the buttons.  “Here.  Let me.”  She had no more success; her lips snarling, and her hushed breath speaking in a language Tommy could not hope to understand?  Was this what swearing in elvish sounded like.

Tommy could already feel himself beginning to lose it.  With the blood starting to flow back into his brain, Tommy got another idea. “The snaps!” he said.  “Get the snaps!”  He might just salvage this thing yet!

Ghilanna stopped grinding against him.  “Snaps?”
“Buttons!” Tommy yelped. “Between my legs!”  Goodness gracious don’t lose momentum!
The elf dismounted and bent over Tommy’s crotch.  Thin and nimble hands started undoing the snaps.  “Oh my!” she giggled.  “It’s a dress masquerading as pantaloons!”
“It’s not a dress!” Tommy cried.  “It’s a-”
“What...is...this?”  Ghilanna had peeled back the leggings turned flaps.  Elven eyes saw, but could not seem to comprehend the stylized Sesame Street characters parading around Tommy’s crotch.  “What happened to your underclothes?”  
Even through the diaper’s padding, Tommy could feel the slender hand experimentally poke and grope at his penis.  

Tommy felt his tongue become sandpaper.  “It’s a diaper.”

“A what?”  Tommy didn’t know if Ghilanna didn’t know what a diaper was, or whether she just wanted to hear him say it again.

“A diaper.  I’m wearing a diaper in case…” Tommy paused. Corrected himself.  “I’m wearing a diaper for when I need to...you know.”

Ghilanna wasn’t Amanda Monroe anymore than Nox was Mr. Jordan.  But her facial expressions were just as wild, and just as cruel and just as hurtful as any of the times Amanda had been witness to Tommy being bullied in school.  Her eyes were just as excited, her grin just as wicked, and her laughter just as gleeful.

“LO AND BEHOLD!” she crowed.  “THE MIGHTY TOM THE TITAN, SLAYER OF HYDRAGONS IS REALLY JUST…” she stared Tommy down, and lowered her voice to just above a whisper.  “A pathetic. Weak.  Pants wetting. Piss soaked. Little. Baby!”

Instinctively, Tommy started scurrying away, pedaling backwards as Ghilanna towered over him.  Leadshoulder had a good few inches, but the elf was MUCH bigger  “You have gotten smaller!” she grinned.   “I thought it was me, but you’re really just a baby.  A tiny, sexless thing.  And that’s not even a dress draped around you.”
“It’s NOT!” Tommy  insisted, climbing to his feet with the dirt wall to support him.  The legs for his shortalls had yet to be all the way snapped together.  It sure felt like a dress.

“It’s a gown!” she teased.  “A baby gown!  You’re far too little to be wearing anything as manly as pants!”

“It’s not a-!”  Tommy froze.  His cheeks started to flush as the front of his diaper warmed. He’d erupted into his pants, and not in the way he’d hoped to.

The elven Amanda must have seen it.  “Awwww,” she mocked.  “Wussa matta? Did widdle Tommy wommy make a tinkle in his-...” She stopped.  Her jaw dropped.  If not the look of excitement and the manic grin on her face, Tommy might’ve suspected that she’d wet her pants, too.

“What?” Tommy huffed.  “What is it?”

“Diapers.”  She grabbed Tommy’s hand.  “That’s the answer!”  Tommy’s feet followed behind him while the bully dragged him to a pile of (thankfully unused) diapers among all the random brick-a-brack.  

“What’s the answer?”

“Step on the dead ones, all of the crinkle.  Step on the live ones, they don’t even tinkle!”  She gestured to the pile.  “Just like a diaper!”

“But-”

“They crinkle, even when they’re wet.  And you tinkle in them, except it doesn’t make the sound because there’s no water!”

“But-”
“It makes perfect sense!”  She gave him a condescending pat on the head.  “Bye-bye, little one!”  She jumped backwards into the pile, her arms spread wide.  
And then…

And then…
Nothing.

Laying in the pile of Pampers, the not-quite Amanda seemed confused. “What?” The rumbling from beneath the ground gave her all the reason to despair.  “Oh…”  As the ground shook, and the mound of diapers started to sink into the ground, dragging her with them, Ghilanna surely wished she’d been wearing one.  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

As the last diaper fell into the earth’s surface, and more dirt rushed into fill the whole making the ground perfectly level, Tommy calmly buttoned up his shortalls.  He could still do that at least.  “Heh,” he said.  “Diapers aren’t alive, silly.”

Left alone in the pit, he started to look around as he absent mindedly brushed the dirt off of his play clothes.  Nanny would be terribly cross with him if his play clothes got too dirty.  (Even if she would be happy to change him.)
Hmm...play.  This entire riddle quest was supposed to be a form of magical play, was it not?  Not a trap, or something dangerous.  Just amusement.  But nothing here seemed worth playing in.  Nothing except…
His swollen diaper causing him to waddle a bit, Tommy toddled over to the pile of leaves.  It had dead, dried out leaves that snapped under his feet.  “Step on the dead ones, all of them crinkle.”  And live ones that were full of water and mute, not even making the slightest sound.  “Step on the live ones, they don’t even tinkle.”

Leaves!  The answer was leaves!  Like a certain richest duck in the world and his money bin, Tommy jumped into the pile and began swimming about, tossing the foliage into the air as if it were water.  He hadn’t done this in years!  

He felt like a little kid in the best way, just rolling around and having a nonsensical time.

He felt happy!

He felt like...like...like he was FLYING!

Floating up into the air, Tommy giggled as he ascended with the pile of leaves.  Unlike the leaves, however, Tommy didn’t waft gently back down.  He had started swimming through the leaves, but in less than a minute, the boy was swimming through the air.  Just like Peter Pan!

And even though his diaper was starting to sag between his thighs and press up against the snaps in his overalls; it didn’t weigh him down at all.

[christi]

Very nice, thanks for sharing.

[Personalias]

Chapter 30: The Greatest Truth You’ll Never Remember

“Mr. Jordan?”  Even saying it a second time had a funny taste in Katlynn’s mouth.  “What are you doing here?  And why are you a horse?”

Mr. Jordan was a decent math teacher, but the gossip down the halls was that if you didn’t want him to teach, all you had to do was ignore him and talk just slightly lower than his voice.  Or if you really wanted fun, just raise your hand and ask a purposefully stupid question.  The guy was one of those poor souls that understood numbers better than people and couldn’t wrap his brain around the difference between a sincere misunderstanding and a distraction in question form. 

He’d always get this look when someone asked “How are we gonna use this in real life?”.  He didn’t quite glare as much as stare in disbelief.  “How will we use abstract math in real life?” was right up there with “Why is the sky blue?” or “Why is water wet?”; a simple question with such an obvious answer that to go deeper than “because”, would have merited a much more complicated lecture to the person asking the question.  Yet “because” was never good enough for Mr. Jordan.

It distracted him every time.  Clockwork.  Dude got numbers; not people.

Right now, the centaur barbarian was making the same kind of twisted up and contorted face whenever one of the popular kids raised their hands and asked how they were going to use this in real life or why couldn’t they just use a calculator.  Centaur Jordan- for that’s what Katlynn was mentally labelling him as- seemed just as confused as the time two-legged Jordan was interrupted explaining polynomials.

“Mr. Jordan?” the centaur repeated as if tasting a particularly bitter fruit.  “Yes...I have been called that before. But why are you…?” His eyes narrowed.  She was being stared at.  It didn’t happen often, not to Katlynn...but she knew what it felt like to be ogled.  But it wasn’t her chest that was being stared at.  Instead, the girl felt her ears flush.  “What are you doing here, Katlynn?”

“Am I dreaming?”  Such a stupid question- of course she was dreaming. If she didn’t accept this as a dream, her mind might collapse in on itself.  If she wasn’t dreaming this was a complete and total hallucination.

Centaur Jordan snorted derisively.  “Not as such, no.  You are in Malacus.  But for humans, I’m told the experience is quite dreamlike.  But why are you here?  You weren’t supposed to be here, yet, we haven’t had time to-”

“Why are you a centaur?”  It might’ve been her own dazed and confused state as the last of the adrenaline started to drain away from her; or it might’ve been that Mr. Jordan’s face was so easy to interrupt.  

The centaur frowned and scratched his head.  “I’ve always been a centaur, no matter the visitor.  Only the face ever changes.”  His eyes darted down when he said ‘changes’.  “Why is your diaper on backwards?”
Katlynn’s eyes all but bugged out of her head.  She’d been so stricken with confusion and disbelief that she’d completely forgotten about the near fatal carriage crash and being afraid for her life, and having nothing to cover her bottom but a fairly large Huggies. 

The fact that in her panic, she’d somehow managed to tape it on backwards didn’t help.  She still had the crinkle like a diaper with every micromovement of her waist, but it fit funny.  It was loose in all the wrong places.  “I was in a rush.  I wasn’t wearing it before, but something happened to my underwear.”  Her fists were clenched and nervous.

The centaur pouted out his lips like he was sucking on a bad lemon.  “You said your panties changed into a diaper?”

A hot flash spread into Katlynn’s cheeks. “I said my underwear, but yeah.”  She pointed to the crinkly papery not-quite cloth monstrosity strapped to her hips.  “This is all I have left.”  Her dress (if it could even be called that) would be useless at protecting her modesty below the waist.  By this point it was less a dress and more a shirt with some frills at the hem.

“Maiden’s milk?” The centaur asked.

The word scratched at the back of Katlynn’s brain.  “Yeah…?” That’s what the elf that looked a heck of a lot like Cameron had called it.  It’s what had been put in that god awful hot tea...and things had tickled all the way down until tickles turned to tinkles.  “A girl with pointy ears gave me some.”

The Mr. Jordan with a horse body closed his eyes and started rubbing his temples with one hand, effectively soothing himself and facepalming at the same time.  “Theodosia,” he growled.  “Always too ambitious for her own good.”  He let his hand drop away from his face.  “I suppose Adora and Ambrosia were with her?”

Those names clicked in Katlynn’s brain.  “Yeah.  Except they looked like my classmates.  Why does everyone look like people I know?”  

The centaur clopped up a few steps.  “Lay down.”

Alarm bells rang in Katlynn’s mind.  “What?”

“Lay down,” Mr. Jordan said.  “You need to get that diaper on right or it will leak the moment your bladder spasms.  I can help.”  He gestured around.  “The grass is soft here and there are no bugs that will crawl on you.”

Barefoot and feeling increasingly powerless, Katlynn took a step back.  She pivoted sideways.  It was a good way to look behind her without fully turning her back on the monster standing in front of her.  “I'm not going to pee myself,” she said.  

“You drank Maiden’s Milk,” the centaur said.  “Your body is starting to remember things it has long forgotten.”

Katlynn opened her mouth to answer. Oof...there was a lot to unpack there.  So much that she didn’t know where to begin.  “Remember?  Remember what?”

“Like how to completely let go.”  He pointed down to her crotch.  Katlynn looked down at herself in horror.  Was she peeing?  She was peeing, wasn’t she?!  She didn’t know!  She didn’t know and that was the scariest part.  Some strange feeling of propriety, made her lift the hem of her so-called dress up to her belly button in a futile attempt to protect the fabric. 

Katlynn looked down at her legs, and waited for the inevitable dampness between her legs; the trickle of urine down her thighs as she helplessly wet herself like a toddler that wasn’t even close to potty training.  

And nothing came.

“Why are you doing that?”  The centaur furrowed his brow.

Katlynn let the hem of her dress drop down. It didn’t protect her modesty at all, but it did free her hands up. “I just thought that...when you said let go...I thought...I mean…”

The centaur snorted and smirked; a very un-Mr. Jordan expression.  “Had I the ability to make you void yourself or predict when you would void yourself, diapers wouldn’t be needed, would they?”

“Um...no?”

“Nay, they would not.”  Katlynn had to suppress a nervous giggle at a horse person saying “Nay”.

“I guess not.”

“But the fact that you yourself are uncertain tells me you should have one on.”

“But…”

“You drank Theodosia’s potion.  You’ll need one for a bit at least.”  His voice was authoritative and resolute.  Also not much like Scrumpton’s pushover math teacher.  “Now lay down before you leak.”

Katlynn wrinkled her nose.  “Um...no offense, but you’re a guy and I’m not going to-”

“Is this a dream and do you ogle horses?” The centaur interrupted.

“I beg your pardon?”

Again, the centaur face palmed and rubbed at his temples with one hand.   “Is this a dream and do you ogle horses?” he repeated.

The older of the Dean twins blinked.  “Um...I don’t know about the dream thing aaaand...I’m not into horses.”

The centaur put his hands on his torso -hips felt like a misnomer- and said, “Then there’s no harm in this.  If this is a dream, then it’s a very strange dream that you’ll most likely forget upon waking or not tell anyone about.”

“And if it’s not a dream?” Katlynn asked.  (She’d never had a dream feel this real before).

“We are two very different species.  I have no lust for you anymore than you have for me. Or have you not noticed that I’m naked?”

Katlynn’s eyes widened.  She hadn’t.  She really hadn’t.  “Aren’t you embarrassed?”

The centaur gave a shrug.  “Do humans get embarrassed being naked around other animals?”

“I guess not…?”

“Then lay down.  Let me help.”

Reluctantly- very reluctantly- Katlynn laid down in the soft grass, biting into the sides of her tongue to keep the screaming at bay.  She turned her head to the side, trying to focus on something in the middle distance.

Like a show pony, the centaur gently and slowly lowered itself to the ground.  Front legs first; then hind ones.  “On your belly, please.  That’s where the tapes are.”

“This better be a dream,” she mumbled to herself as she rolled over to her belly.  The sound of velcro tabs scritch scratching off didn’t feel like a dream.  Nor did the feeling of her being flipped back over by meaty hands.  “Whoah!”

“Just a moment.”  He sounded patient now. Focused.  And focus is exactly what Katlynn lossed as her bare feet went to the sky.  She wasn’t used to this!  Nor was she used to the feeling of her bum coming down on soft padding.  Doubly so for when Not-Mr.-Jordan hiked the diaper over her hips and taped it on properly.   At least when Tommy got changed, Mom would let him step into the new Pull-Up.  So his underwear got ripped off but he could at least pretend that he was an adult as he stepped in and pulled the fresh one up his legs. 

 This?  This was just a diaper change.

Just like that it was over.  The nappy was properly on;  it’s Huggies logo, Mickey Mouse decorations and velcro tapes all facing the correct direction.  “There,” the centaur said.  “It’s done.”  That was all Katlynn needed to climb back up to her feet.  Smoothing out the hem of her dress over her diaper didn’t really accomplish anything, but it made her feel a little better.  Same with the Huggies being taped on directly.  It certainly fit her better; but it was still a diaper; something most girls her age didn’t wear.

Slowly, the centaur rose to his feet.  “Where’s the pram?”

“Pram?” Katlynn repeated dumbly.

“The carriage,” the centaur said.  “It’s Theodosia’s preferred method of transport and if she got you to drink the Maiden’s Milk, she would’ve had one nearby.”

“Oh, yeah.”  Katlynn remembered.  “Over there.”  She pointed in the direction she’d come from.  The centaur didn’t wait to pick her up with his oddly monkey-like tail.  Nor did he listen to her screech as he deposited her on his back.   It was a quick jaunt to the crash site.  The wrecked pram hadn’t moved any.  “What are we looking for?” Katlynn asked as the monster with Mr. Jordan’s mug pawed through the twisted iron and cloth.

“Your diaper bag,” he said matter of factly.  “Just in case.”  

“Just in case what?”

“In case you need a change.”  He shook his head in disgust.  “Sloppy elves.  Can never trust them to do the job right these days.  Never learned to adjust.  Just take credit for other people’s work.”

Something about that didn’t quite sit right with Katlynn. “What job?”

Katlynn’s question was roundly ignored; with the strange fantasy creatures eyes thoroughly scanning the ground.  “Maybe it fell out…”

“There!”  Katlynn said.  “Two O’clock.”   She instantly regretted pointing it out, but she almost couldn’t help herself.  The centaur’s head swiveled forty-five degrees and he broke out into a trot, scooping it up with his tail and slinging the bag over his shoulder.

“Well done, little Katlynn!” he called over the sound of his own hoofbeats.  “Well done, indeed!”

A shiver broke out over Katlynn’s back.  Again, she was being called “little”.  Again she didn’t like the sound of it.  Not one bit.  His back to her- (human back anyways...fantasy creature anatomy was hard!)- the centaur didn’t notice how Katlynn tensed up. He probably didn’t feel how tightly Katlynn was clinging to his shoulders as he started galloping through the fields and brushes.

  “Where are we going?” Katlynn asked. “Where’s Tommy?”

Not breaking his stride, the centaur leaned his head back to glance at her.  “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to him.”

 She didn’t know if her brother could handle such a dangerous place.  Plummeting off the back of a giant flying turtle?  Tommy could barely handle a playground some days. “Is he safe?”
“There is no place safer for your kind than Malacus?” The centaur replied.  “Danger is merely an illusion here.”

The young Miss Dean gritted her teeth.  Poison that fucked up your bladder control seemed pretty dangerous if you asked her.  “Why?” she asked.

“All will be revealed.” he promised.

“Is somebody named Charles here?”  She tried to remember the other name scribbled in algae. “Charles Watson?”

The centaur’s gallop slowed to a stop.  A monkey tail wrapped around Katlynn’s waist and put her back on the ground in front of her horse-teacher.  “Did you say Charlie Watson?”

Perhaps it was fear.  Perhaps it was more of the milk affecting her.  But Katlynn felt a blossoming wet patch in her Huggies just then.  It wasn’t much...just a spot...what her Mom would call a ‘tiny tinkle’ had it been Tommy in his Pull-Ups.    “Y-y-yeah...?” she said  

The centaur glowered down at her. “How do you know that name?”  Katlynn lost the ability to reply.  “Tommy, I understand.  Even if Theodosia didn’t run her mouth you’d be concerned for him.  You can’t remember a time when he wasn’t as he is now…”

“As he is now…?”  Katlynn echoed the words confusedly.  “What do you mean?  He’s always been a…”  Katlynn stopped.  ‘Baby’ wasn’t quite the right word for it; Tommy was the same age as her, even if he never had developed, physically or mentally past thirty months.  But ‘baby’ sounded a lot better than any other word she could come up with.  Then her mind connected the centaur’s and elf’s words.  

“You can’t remember a time when he wasn’t as he is now..”  The centaur just said.

“At the very least, we were going to save you for last;” the elf with Cameron’s face had confessed, “ease you into it like your brother.”  

Had Tommy NOT always been her baby twin brother?!

“How do you know about Charlie Watson?” The centaur repeated.

“I..I...I don’t know…” Then a rogue thought came into the girl’s head.  A very clever thought.  “Tell me what’s happening to my brother.”

Nostrils flared up.  Front hooves stomped angrily as teeth gnashed.  And then it all vanished behind a facade of reserved calm.  “Very well,” he said. ”But not here.”  Again, the strangely long and not at all horse like tail wrapped around Katy’s hips and deposited her on the back half of the centaur, before breaking off into another gallop.

Katlynn decided not to scream questions and accusations on the back of the man-horse, and just clung onto his shoulders as tightly as possible.  If this was a dream, it was one of the weirdest ones she’d ever had.  Beyond a few broken down ponies tied to a wheel at the county fair, Katlynn had never ridden a horse.  Yet as the centaur that looked an awful like Mr. Jordan galloped on, vague sensory memories of bouncing on Mommy’s knee when she was a little girl came to her mind:

The bobbing up and down as the horse galloped half galloped.  The way his strong hands enveloped and tried to comfort her white knuckled grip.  Even the cushioned crinkle as she bobbed up and down wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. Katlynn almost couldn’t feel the slight wet spot she’d left in her diaper.  Almost.

Something else was happening as she bobbed up and down, too.  Something a lot less pleasant inside her stomach.  The ride would be over soon she told herself.  Very soon.

Open field gave way to a nearly impossible, setting.  Reaching into the clouds above her were enormous trees; big leafy giants that gave a cooling and concealing shade.  Beneath her were tangles of thorny vines and brambles so thick that the centaur had to slow down and high step in the thickets, clomping down hard on the prickly vegetation.    It was something like Brer Rabbit meets the great redwood forest.

No way could something like this happen.  Either the vines would choke out the tree roots and rob them of water, or the giant trees would rob the vines of too much sunlight to thrive.  Yet here they were.  

The centaur plodded along over the vines, leaping here and there to finally reach the smallest of clearings.  Without preamble he set Katlynn down as her stomach gave yet another rumble.  Her legs felt wobbly and bowed out a bit before buckling.  It didn’t hurt very much; the fall wasn’t very fall, but she still let out an “Oof,” as the dust spread out.

“Careful,” the centaur said.  Though it sounded like less of a concern and more of a command word.  When a group of wooden poles shot out of the ground, caging her in an even small segment of the clearing, Katlynn suspected she was right.

“HEY!” she cried out.  “What gives.”

“It’s for your own safety,” the centaur replied. “The milk is affecting you more deeply than you know.”

“You’re going to keep me safe by putting me in a cage?”

“No.  I’m going to keep you safe by putting you in a playpen.”

Katlynn had had about enough of this.  “What’s with all this baby shit?” Katlynn demanded.  “What’s with all the diapers and carriages and baby clothes and playpens?!”

As tall as the trees were, there were still stray branches that were well within reach; another implausibility.  The centaur reached up and grabbed a shiny red apple from the branch.  “Here.” He handed the fruit to Katlynn.  “Eat this.  It will make you feel better.”

Katlynn slapped the apple out of his hand.  “Screw that.  Answer my question.”

“Eat the apple.”

“No way!  That’ll just make me more into a baby!”

The centaur rolled his eyes.  “Why would I want you to be a baby before you’ve answered my questions?  You can’t tell me about Charlie Watson if you’re a baby, can you?”  He reached for another apple and  took a bite out of it, chewing it slowly and swallowing before handing it over the bars.  “See?”

The milk turned those others into pants peeing toddlers just as easily as it had Katlynn.  The lead elf even mentioned about taking one for the team.  Her present host/captor wouldn’t poison himself.  Slowly, Katlynn took the apple and took a bite out of the other side of the apple.

A burst of cold juice exploded in her mouth and flooded down her throat.  Her teeth tingled with delight as she crunched and munched on that first decadent bite.  “Mmmmmm!”

“I told you it would make you feel better,” the centaur said, humorlessly.  “I’m not an elf.”

Katlynn swallowed and tossed the apple aside.  “Now tell me what’s going on,” she said.  “Tell me everything.”

“Of course,” the centaur nodded.  “A deal’s a deal.”  From out of the trees, hanging on vines little wooden marionettes dangled down, both vaguely humanoid in appearance.

The centaur gestured to the puppets.  “Mankind has always had a complicated relationship with power. Your people crave power and independence.”  Like an old Punch and Judy show, the two wooden figurines began pantomiming beating on each other.  Swinging and kicking and grappling.  It was really a wonder the vines serving as strings didn’t get impossibly tangled with each other.

Katlynn leaned forward.  “Whoah,” she whispered. Her legs felt a little weak, and she bent them a bit as she clutched the wooden bars of her makeshift playpen.

“You stock up on power and freedom and autonomy and liberty.” The centaur went on.  “Call it what you want; it’s the same thing with so many different words and disguises.  You fight for it. You crave it.  You resent others for having more than you.  You take it from others who have less.  And when you get it you just want more.  One drop is too much and too much is never enough.” 

She bent her legs a bit more, and bit her lip.  She didn’t even notice that she was pushing a warm mushy load into the back of her Huggies.  She was too enthralled by the puppet shows. “That sounds like alcohol,” Katlynn said. 

“Exactly!” The centaur smiled.  “Yet you also don’t want it. Not really.  “In almost every power structure there has to be something above you.”  A larger puppet dropped between the two fighters, grabbing them by the scruffs of their necks and separating them and wagging its finger at them as if scolding them.  

“Even at the highest levels, you say there’s a god above you.  That or you are part of an uncaring universe within which you are completely insignificant.  As a people, humans can’t stand the idea of being the most powerful or the greatest or having any real control.”  The two puppets prostrated themselves before the larger third. “You crave it and fear it.  You want someone to give it to you and to keep it from you.”  

The smaller marionettes found themselves over the larger one’s knee being spanked. “You’re nothing but toddlers constantly exploring and then going and tugging on Mommy’s apron for reassurance lest you break out into a tantrum.”  Putting a cloth diaper and pinning it on two string held marionettes should have been an impossible trick for the third, and yet it happened right in front of Katlynn.

As her diaper drooped and her bladder released another burst to be soaked in by the thirsty padding Katlynn became only vaguely aware of her situation.  “So you think humans are all babies?  That’s why I’m in a friggin’ we-....why I’m in a diaper?” Katlynn’s cheeks flashed hot when the literal weight of what she’d just done reached her brain and the smell of her own poop and pee invaded her nostrils.

“Goodness no!” the centaur laughed as the puppets (two of them now diapered) took a bow and ascended back up into the branches.  “Malacus is not a land of punishment, but of wish fulfillment.”  

Malacus?  That was the name on the clock, Katlynn realized.  That revelation was almost enough to distract her from what she’d done to herself.  Almost.

Like a hungry shark, the centaur started circling the playpen.  “We simply attract people here who want more power than they have or have more power than they want and reset them to their most natural state.  They crave adventure?  We give it to them?  Whimsy?  That too.  No one leaves Malacus unhappy.”

“Tommy isn’t unhappy!” Katlynn blurted out.  She whirled around to face the centaur, in part to hide how her backside had filled up.  She had to make her stance bowlegged just so her own personal muck wouldn’t smush up against her as much.  “He’s practically an eighteen year old baby!  He doesn’t know any better!”  

“Exactly!”

A flash of insight. “You don’t mean… Tommy used to be normal?”

“Thomas Dean found us when he was at a low point,” the centaur said.  “He wanted adventure, respect, and power.  So we gave it to him.  He wanted to fight and kill and explore.  So we let him pretend.” Katlynn had to keep pivoting to meet the centaur’s eye.  “But just like all games,” he said, “this one is temporary.  We’re returning him to his natural state. He can have all the power that he needs; just enough to have fun and live his life in comfort. But there will always be someone more powerful above him to take care of him; a Mommy or a Nanny. A babysitter, perhaps.” 

 Katlynn heard what he hadn’t said, too.  He hadn’t mentioned ‘big sister’ as one of his caretakers.  “What do you get out of it?” she asked.  “What’s in it for you?”

The centaur nodded.  “Even a bullied highschooler has some power.  The ability to dress himself, feed himself, cook, travel, be seen as an intellectual equal or emotional equal.  To be understood when speaking.”  The centaur’s nose twitched.  “The ability to determine his own bedtime...or control his innards…”   He knew!  He knew what she had done!  “And magic doesn’t require a great deal of power to make someone have super strength or fly for a time.  So we just do an exchange.  A power fantasy in return for actual power.”

“You stole his...his adulthood?”

The centaur seemed offended.  “Elves steal power.  The rest of us...exchange it.  That’s more than fair, don’t you think?”

“Why hasn’t Tommy told me about this place?”  Katlynn didn’t notice that there were tree vines drooping down into the playpen.

“Babies don’t like to share their favorite toys?” The centaur shrugged.  “Either that or he doesn’t consciously remember his visits here until he’s called.”  Katlynn remembered how loud the clock sounded.  “Most of them are like that,” the centaur said.  “Most of them don’t know any better, either.  All except Charlie Watson.  Never could figure him out.”  His eyes narrowed.  “I wonder…”

The vines snaked around Katlynn in a flash, threading themselves between her legs. “EEEEK!”  Not only was she lifted off her feet, but the mass in her diaper squished messily against her.  “AAAH! Gross!”  A fly caught in a spider’s web, Katlynn struggled as more and more vines snaked around her, supporting her, confining her.  “THIS IS SO GROSS!”

“You won’t think so in a minute after that apple kicks in.”

“You said it wouldn’t turn me into a baby!”

“And I did not lie,” the centaur smirked.  “The apples here have...other effects.”

Katlynn didn’t ask what other effects.  She saw them as she caught a peak at the underside of the horse.  “Pardon me,” the centaur blushed. It was necessary that I take one for the team.  I’m thinking of a sweet young philly that I’m seeing after work today; not you, if it makes you feel any better.”  He turned away from her.

Katlyn kicked.  Katlynn struggled and thrashed.  She couldn’t move.  Once more, she had to lean forward for her toes to even graze the floor.  And when she pushed off, she’d go a little bit into the air, the vines pressing her mess up against her.  The vines had constructed a giant baby jumper for her.  She was trapped and filthy and disgusting.  And she hated to admit it...but she kind of liked it.

“Hnnn…” she moaned.  “What’d you do to me?”  She felt as if her naughty bits were on fire in the most sensual way.  She was both disgusted and aroused by herself and wasn’t sure which way to lean emotionally speaking.

The horse-man looked back over his shoulder.  “Shame and self-control are two other forms of power,” Mr. Jordan’s look alike said.  “I only brought out what was already inside you, Katlynn.  The clock wouldn’t have called you otherwise.”  Then he added.  “It was the clock, right?  That’s the entryway in your part of the world, last I checked.”

Katlynn’s breathing sped up.  Each futile kick or pathetic thrash created a pleasant little bobbing and bounce.  And as long as she didn’t think about WHY the inside of her Huggies was so gooey and wet and warm and mushy...the sensation wasn’t that bad.  Oh god, what was she thinking?!  “How?!” She gasped.  “How do I make it stop?”

“There is no stopping it,” the centaur chuckled bitterly.  “Just speeding up the inevitable.” He wiggled his fingers.  “I recommend you use your hands since you can reach.  You wouldn’t like how centaurs have to do it.”

Mortified and overwhelmed, Katlynn reached down between her legs and began to rub herself through her sopping wet and messy diaper.  Up and down, up and down. Pressing her fingers through the soft puly padding. It felt so good; almost primally so. 

“Think of something,” Katlynn said to herself.  “Think about Brad Pitt.”  The rustle as she rubbed herself invaded her senses.  The way the diaper flopped back down whenever she released tension.  “Think about cute boys at school.  Think about a hot bath!  Anything...just don’t think about where you are or what you’re doing!”  She also tried to not think about how good it felt.  She tried not to think about how helpless and humiliated she was and how hot that made her feel inside.

She failed.

Katlynn Dean didn’t scream just then when she brought herself to climax.  She never did.  Living in a house with a perpetual baby brother and an overprotective mother meant she had to pretend she’d never known what masturbation was or how to do it.  It was a silly lie, but manners and politics was the art of taking something that everyone knew to be untrue and saying it anyways.  Instead she let out a low breathy moan as her hands slowly stopped rubbing herself, the crinkle between her legs slowing gradually as she released fully into the waiting diaper; becoming a light pitter patter and then nothing as she collapsed in her harness.

“Please…” she panted.  “Give me something to suck on.”  She’d always wanted to kiss after cumming, but with nothing and no one worth smooching, she’d often resort to sucking on her own lips instead.  The intense rush draining out of her made her realize that her own lips just wouldn’t cut it.

“Just use your thumb,” the centaur said, huffing; clearly trying to contain his own lust.  “All the others do.”

Without hesitation, Katlynn shoved her thumb into her mouth and started sucking.  It felt oddly good.  Oddly right.  Even as her own brain screamed at her that she looked and was acting ridiculous.  In that moment, she didn’t care.

“Now,” the centaur said, trotting around the playpen, slowly.  “Tell me what you know about Charlie Watson.”

At the sound of the strange name she’d read, a bit of Katlynn’s rational brain kicked in. “Nnnn-nnn…”  she shook her head.  The girl knew that if she told him what he wanted to know, he’d have no reason not to turn her into some kind of freak-baby; just like Tommy.  She sucked her thumb for comfort.  Part of her still didn’t want that.

“If you tell me, I’ll change your diaper,” her captor offered.  “Or if you’d like...I’ll give you another apple.”

Katlynn moaned around her thumb.  That.  That was temptation.  Either sounded wonderful just then.  Either the clean decadence and security of a fresh diaper; or the rowdy, filthy decadence of another go in the jumper.  Why not?  Why not to either?  Why should Tommy be the one to get all the attention? All the love?  All the irresponsibility? 

“It’s okay,” the horse man tempted.  “Enjoy it.  The moment you leave here you won’t remember a thing.  And if you let us do our magic, no one outside will remember you as anything different than how you are right now.  You’ll get to be who you’ve always wanted to be and this will be no more yielding but a dream.”

Katlynn opened her eyes, not even realizing she’d closed them, and saw the centaur opening her diaper bag and spreading it out onto the floor in a spot bereft of brambles.  “After you change me,” she asked, “can I ride on your back again?”  Riding horseback really was more fun than being carried around on some broken down old pony.

“Just say the word, baby girl.” He told her.  “Say the word and we’ll make an excha-”

“NOX!” A familiar voice boomed out.  The centaur shook and looked behind him.  Katlynn looked out of the playpen.  He was dressed in shortalls and a t-shirt.  The bulge in his midsection showed that he was wearing a diaper just like her.  Yet his shoulders were squared and his feet hovered effortlessly above the spiked vines that riddled the forest floor.  No vinces from the trees held him aloft.  He looked even more like a baby than usual, but had the confidence and poise of a superhero.  

“Tommy?” Katlynn called out.  “Is that you?

Tommy's face was stern and angry.  He regarded her with a nod but kept his focus on Katlyn’s captor.  
“Nox?!” He repeated.  “What do you think you’re doing with my big sister?!”
 

[Mike D]

I love this story, P. Esp the magic playground and river chapters. 

The Narnia books were my favorite when I was younger - especially the Silver Chair - which contains some themes that I never understood why I liked so much, until I was much older. 

[Personalias]

Chapter 31  Paradigm Shifts

Tommy stood there, arms over his chest.  ‘Stood’ was perhaps a poor choice of words, considering that the boy was hovering several feet off the ground.  Yet it was his emotions and mental state that stood firm.  He wasn’t a hummingbird, furiously flapping his wings to keep airborne. He was Peter Pan goading Captain Hook into a fight before Wendy Darling had walked the plank.

No.  Not serious enough.  Peter Pan was always whimsical and having fun.  Despite his childish clothes, and even more childish underwear drooping slightly between his thighs, Tommy didn’t feel particularly whimsical in the moment.

He was Superman staring down Lex Luther right before Lois Lane was thrown off a skyscraper.

Tommy was an Archangel bringing down the wrath of God.  “I’ll ask you again, Nox:  What do you think you’re doing with my big sister?”  Each word came out neatly spaced out from the last so that every syllable was crisp and laced with menace.  

“Friend Tommy!”  The smile on the centaur’s face was big and toothy, yet did little to mask the surprise and panic in his eyes.  He was caught red handed.  Nox was somebody’s dad in a Santa Suit caught  placing gifts under the Christmas Tree. Or rather he was the Grinch caught in the middle of his first heist.  Unlike the Grinch, the centaur wasn’t nearly as good or quick a liar.  “How much of that did you hear?”

Tommy let loose an angry snort through his nose.  Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore puffs of smoke exited his nostrils.  Then again, he’d just solved the great Quest of the Dragon;  magical flight had been promised and delivered.  Fire might’ve been part of the package too.   “I heard enough.”

He’d seen enough too.  As soon as he’d been able to giggle himself skyward, Tommy had started flying over the landscape.  It had been glorious!  Delightful!  He’d been able to leap great distances before, but this was even grander!  Even as Tom the Titan, young master Dean had still felt gravity’s great pull on his person.  

The moment he’d solved the riddle, that pull became a nudge.  The tiger pinning him down became a kitten napping on his ap.  He could allow himself to be pinned and confined to a single plane of movement; much in the way that someone with a cat was loathe to move lest they disturb the bundle of purring fur.  But with just a thought and the slightest bit of effort, he could stand up and carry it with him.  

Flight made gravity like walking around with a kitten.

He’d been so thrilled that he’d started scouring Malacus’s landscape; retracing his steps from the clouds.  He’d HAVE to show off!  Nanny, or Leadshoulder, or Nox; they’d be so proud of him!  

It was the centaur that he’d found.  Nox, and a drugged and diapered version of Katlynn. Tommy’s eyes gave a quick glance over to Katlynn.  No pointy elf ears, or squat stretched out dwarf face.  It was her alright.  The real her.

Ew…

For lack of better verbiage, Tommy realized, he’d just ‘walked’ in on his sister masturbating in a diaper, sucking on her thumb, and all but begging for more.  Being his sister, that was gross.  The fact that she was in a baby jumper and sucking on her thumb, cumming into a wet diaper...ridiculous looking to say the least.

That’s likely what Tommy looked like from the outside though…

Even though he himself was padded and wet, that realization caused enough cognitive dissonance for Tommy to grow up right then and there.  In that moment, he’d ceased to be a little boy in play clothes, and started feeling grown-up in a silly costume.  And silly costume or not, he had to do the right thing and protect his sister.  She was in no state to protect herself just then.

The fact that a fantasy creature bearing a striking resemblance to his old math teacher only fueled his rage.  Major creeper vibes.

“M’friend,” Nox stuttered. “If you’ll just listen, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for...for...thi-”

“I don’t think there is,” Tommy said.  “I don’t think there is at all.”

“TOMMY?!”  Katlynn shrieked out.  Her face flushed, and she covered it with her hands as if that might actually do something.   Such an infantile, babyish response.  “I didn’t mean to. I mean, I did. Just my friends were here, only they weren’t really, and then I drank some milk and peed my diapeee...diapers...and apples...and I like it except I don’t and...and…” she burst into tears.  “I’M SO FUCKING CONFUSED!”

This wasn’t the Katlynn he’d grown up with.  His big sister, his twin, only two minutes older wasn’t some helpless moaning baby.  Some dumb thumbsucker begging for pony rides.  She was the responsible one.  The one who kept her cool, the one who razzed him while still trying her best to look out for him.

However, Tommy knew this wasn’t an illusion either.  This wasn’t one of Malacus’s tricks; some strange copy and paste of the real world onto grandiose fantasies.  Tommy had traveled enough between the two worlds already to realize the difference.  The way Katlynn, moved her head when she talked, the way she grimaced while still trying to hide her embarrassment and discomfort.  The look of disbelieving recognition in her eyes when they’d made contact with his.  Malacus couldn’t fake that.  Nothing could.

 That could only mean that this was Katlynn, his Katlynn, and that she was in trouble.  Before wandering into the clock, Tommy remembered not having many friends or connections, but he’d always had his sister.  Since highschool bullying had evolved from scraps on the playground to subtle social mind games, exclusion, and mockery, there was little Katlynn had been able to do for Tommy beyond being a shoulder to cry on.  She’d been powerless to help him any other way, but she was the only person in his life that would’ve helped had she been able.

Here, Tommy wasn’t powerless.  And his sister clearly needed help.  Only one thing to do then.

Sniffling, Katlynn peeled her hands away from her face.  “This isn’t a dream, is it?”

Tommy softened a bit. “No, sis.  It’s not.”

“And you haven’t always been in Pull-Ups, have you?”

Tommy fought off a blush.  “No.”  He wasn’t in Pull-Ups just then either, but she didn’t need to know that.  Had adrenaline not been starting to course through his veins, Tommy might have thought the choice of Pull-Ups to be an odd one.  He wore thick cloth trainers in the day and disposable goodnites for bed.  Pull-Ups;though a step up in maturity to the bulky crinkling mass between his legs; had never been a thing.  

“Friend Tommy!” Nox called out. “Clearly this is all some sort of misundersta-!”

Tommy didn’t wait for the centaur to finish blathering.  Faster than a bird, or a plane, or even a certain red caped man of steel, Tommy swooped down and lifted Katlynn out of the jumper. Their size difference meant that he could only hold her by her wrists as she dangled like a trapeze artist.  

“TOMMY!”  “Believe me boy, when I say this.  “You’re making a mistake!”

Tommy clenched his teeth and measured his breath as best he could.  His own body might be able to defy gravity, but Katlynn’s was still very much under its pull.  She wasn’t heavy for her age; underfed if anything; but she was still another human being.

“I don’t...think so…” Tommy said.  Inwardly, he was a little sad that he couldn’t sound tougher; more badass.  Still, he was resolute.  “I don’t...think...we’ll be coming back, Nox.”

Katlynn seemed to be coming back to herself as well.  “Screw you, horse teacher freak!”   As if to accentuate the point, her very full and abused diaper chose that moment to slip off her hips, slide down to her ankles and dangle precariously from her big toe by the leg guard.

It only took a single flick of her ankle to send it plummeting down onto the centaur’s head.

Good enough.

Tommy chose that moment to take his sister away from all this crazy.  Up, up, up, and away into the sky, faster than any natural creature could fly.

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?!” Katlynn shrieked over the wind.

“BACK...TO THE TURTLE!”  Tommy grunted out, being careful to adjust and readjust his grip so as not to send his twin plummeting to her doom.  “IT’S THE ONLY...WAY OUT!”

“TOMMY?”

“YEAH…?”

“WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”

“WE’LL TALK ABOUT IT WHEN WE GET HOME!”

They didn’t, though, though not for lack of one of them trying.  One of them just simply didn’t have the inclination (some might say ability) for such a conversation.

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

Katy woke up in her bedroom the next morning; as bright pink as the day her mother had moved her into it. There came a time when boys and girls should have their own room and space she’d been told; even when they’d been so used to sharing everything, including a womb.

Katy was starting to grow up, her mother had told her, even if Tommy wasn’t.  Despite being twins, Tommy was something of a late bloomer, it seemed. (Neither Katy nor her mother had realized just how much of an understatement that had been at the time).  That meant that she should get her own room.  Her own room meant she could have the walls painted whatever color she wanted, Mom told her.

So of course she’d chosen pink.  She’d never quite grown out of the color, and had no compunctions about starting now.  Roses were pink.  Who wouldn’t want to be a rose?

With a yawn chasing away the last bits of sleep, Katy peeled back her comforter and rolled out of bed.  As soon as her feet hit the floor, she felt the weight of the soggy nighttime Pull-Up dangling off her hips. 

She was wet.  She knew she was wet.  Of course she was wet.  She’d wet her Pull-Up before she masturbated and drifted off to sleep.  It was just a shame that she couldn’t make herself wet the bed like a real babies, her aching bladder reminded her as much.

Experimentally she looked down past her waist and poked her crotch.  The stars had faded, and now Buzz Lightyear stood alone.  Even though the pulp had absorbed everything it could, Katy still felt like there was liquid sloshing around in her panties.  Gingerly, she ran her hand over her bedspread, feeling for wetness.  Thankfully, the leakguards had succeeded where the absorbent core had failed.  

Still sucked, though.  If she let loose again, the Pull-Up would definitely leak.

Unlike most everything else in her room, the Pull-Up was blue. It made sense that it was blue, considering she’d stolen it from Tommy’s room.  Tommy was allowed to wear Pull-Ups.  He “needed” them.  Katy felt like she needed them too, but in a much different way.

Ever since Tommy was diagnosed with his “special condition”, Katy had been rushed to grow up. Mom didn’t need too overgrown babies in the house.  All of that pressure took its toll on her.  Sometimes it was hard to be the “big twin”.  It was hard growing up next to someone, but still feeling alone and having to be older than she really was all the time to compensate for Tommy’s lack of development.

It wasn’t his fault, she knew.  Still, when things got too much for her, she’d often sneak into his room, slip out a Pull-Up, and squeeze into it just before bed.  For reasons she’d never been able to explain, it felt “right”.

She supposed she could buy her own Pull-Ups.  Something cute and girly and pink.  Maybe just maybe even order a sample or two of those adult baby diapers she’d read about online.  But having her own diapers meant she’d have more to hide.  More likely to get caught.  Fewer excuses.  Fewer people to blame.

Naw.  Blue could be a cute girly color, even if Buzz Lightyear wasn’t the most feminine decoration on the planet.  Good enough for government work. Also, taking the odd diaper here and there felt right; almost like her little twin was paying her back, helping her out.  And why would he mind?  He didn’t have to pay for them and it’s not like he was getting out of them any time soon.  

The Pull-Ups were really just a formality because he was still just a little too big for proper diapers.  Tommy was lucky to make it to the potty a few times a week, and that was only when Katy or Mom miraculously predicted when his bladder or bowels would let loose.  He had nothing to do with it.

Slipping on her pink pajama bottoms, Katy grabbed a bath towel and started walking to the bathroom, making sure to hum in case even a bit of the crinkle could still be heard.  

Closing the door behind her, she looked to the shower tub.  Hypothetically, she thought, she could strip down to just her soggy not-diaper, pee again, and if anything leaked, it’d all be washed down the drain anyways.

She thought about it, but decided against it.  A leak would just depress her right now; remind her that she didn’t really fit into these things but could just barely squeeze into them.  Not like Tommy.  Ugh.  She was jealous of her dumb brother who actually needed these things.  How fucked up was that?

With a final sigh she slipped the sarated night Pull-Up off and ditch it in the wastebasket.  There it would with so many of its fallen brethren.  Tommy almost always had a wet Pull-Up come bathtime what was one more?  True, pee-soaked Buzz Lightyear needed to be balled up and ditched underneath a piss drowned Chase or Rubble from Paw Patrol, but Mom never noticed or questioned why one of Tommy’s night time Pull-Ups (extra absorbent) occasionally made it into the wastebasket alongside his daytime Pull-Ups.  All the ones that Tommy woke up in just ended up in his very well used diaper genie.

After relieving herself in the toilet, (an act that Katy offset by sucking on her thumb), she turned the water on and took the longest hottest shower she could, only hopping out after the water threatened to go from tepid to ice cold nearly an hour later.  

Something in the back of her brain told her that this was going to be a looooooooong day so she should enjoy this moment of private contemplation.  Something else told her that most everything she was thinking and feeling since she’d woken up that morning was wrong; unnatural...not her true thoughts but something warped through a kaleidoscope of her true self.

Katy breathed in the hot mist from the shower when she got those thoughts.  The mist made everything better.  Cleansed her.  Renewed her.  Made her feel clean even more so than the (initially) boiling water droplets that pounded her skin.

Katy had learned not to listen to those shameful thoughts a long time ago.

***************************************************************************************************
Tommy’s eyes opened with a pop.   He was home!  Of course he was home!  He always ended up home after one of his visits to Malacus.  Just like every time before he’d gone back the way he came, crawled into bed, and passed out.

Something was different this time, though.  What was it?

Katlynn!

Yes, of course it was Katlynn!  Somehow, she’d ended up in Malacus too, but instead of getting the power fantasy and adventure that Tommy had always craved, Katlynn had been subjected to something much different.  

Different...yet not so dissimilar from places Tommy’s mind had been journeying too outside of Malacus.

He’d gotten her out.  Gotten her home.  Promised to explain everything in the morning as he shuffled her off to her bed, and then passed out in his own.  

Now that the light of day was streaming into his window, Tommy sat up and looked around his room.  Sitting up was easier thanks to the newly manifested bed railing.  Not quite a crib, but definitely not a big boy bed.

That was only the first change he noticed as he sat up. It wasn’t his room anymore. Not really.  Stuffed animals littered a corner of the room that hadn’t been there before.  Above his bed, a “Go! Diego! Go!” poster hung.  Diego swung from a vine. Bye-bye Spider-Man.

The floor to one side was littered with plastic and wooden toys, all looking like something a preschooler might play with.  Wooden train tracks and plastic Paw Patrol Action figures dotted the carpet.  Yesterday, the room might have belonged to at least a late elementary schooler.  Today?  Calling this a Kindergartners room would be generous.  A very messy Kindergartener at that.

“Messy” was a poor choice of words.  Buzz Lightyear stared up at him from his crotch, saluting him for a job well done.  The stars were gone, the not-quite diaper was completely soaked.  Soaked, and if his bottom was telling him true, more than just that.

“Pull-Ups” Tommy gasped.  Just like Katlynn had said.  How had she known before him?

The door flung open and his mother came in.  “Good morning, Tommy!” she all-but sang.  “Did you sleep well?”  She turned her back to him and opened up his dresser.  The whitish-rectangular thing came from the drawer that contained his cloth trainers, but Tommy could hear the crinkle as soon as she grabbed it.  Those weren’t training pants.

“Mom?” Tommy asked, starting to get up.  “What’s that?” 

A hand on his chest stopped him from getting up.  “First thing’s first,” Mom said. “Lay down.  It’s easier to clean you up if you’re laying down.”  The force pushing against him made Tommy go horizontal again..  When did Mom get this strong?!  Tommy’s eyes darted down to his chest.  When did her hand get so big?

The dots finally connected when his mother ripped open the sides of the Pull-Up.  Tommy had shrunk again.

His legs were pushed back into the air.  “Looks like you poopied,” Mom stated the obvious.  “Lots and lots of poopy.”  Tommy could only stutter as his Mommy wiped his ass for him.  Almost instinctively, he popped his thumb into his mouth and began to suck.  Best not to talk while she worked.

She rolled up the Pull-Up and pivoted to a diaper genie.  “Let’s hope that’s all you have in you today.” Then as an afterthought, she added. “At least that doesn’t make it in the potty.”

A tiny tinge of disappointment wormed its way through Tommy when the white thing brought over from his dresser ended up in his hands instead of slid directly under his bottom.   “Here you go, bubby,” she said.  “You can put on yourself, right?”

Still naked from the waist down, Tommy sat up and looked at it.  It was a Pull-Up, alright.  Staring right back at him was a bulldog puppy in a yellow hardhat  “Paw Patrol!”

Mom let out a giggle at that.  “Of course Paw Patrol.  They’re your favorite, aren’t they?”

“Uh-huh!” Tommy couldn’t believe that he was actually saying it, but those were the words that were leaving his mouth.  He’d wanted these ever since he saw them in the grocery store that day!  

“Come on then!” Mom said. “Put them on!  We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

Looking at the Pull-Up in his hand, Tommy had another impulse he couldn’t quite control.   He looked back up to his mother, so much bigger than he remembered.  “Help?”

Mom laughed a little, as if her eighteen year old son asking for help dressing was cute.  “Fine,” she said.  She took the disposable underwear from him, bent down and popped it open.  “Step in.”

Placing his hands on his Mommy’s shoulders for balance, Tommy stepped into the legholes of the waiting Pull-Up.  First the right.  Then the left.  Mommy waited until both feet were planted firmly on the floor, then shimmy-shimmy-shimmied the crinkling padded underwear all the way up Tommy’s hips before letting them go with a snap.

A giggle sneaked out of Tommy’s throat, and was rewarded with a smile and Mommy tussling his hair.  It wasn’t quite as good as the feeling of having a fresh diaper taped on, but it was pretty close.

“Come on,” Mom said, taking his hand.  “Let’s get some breakfast.”

Tommy looked down at his Rubble decorated Pull-Up.  “What about pants?”

“Pants later”, Mommy said. “Breakfast first.”

No pants at the breakfast table, huh? That sounded just about right to Tommy.

[Personalias]

Chapter 32: Shopping Trip Two (Electric Boogaloo)
How lovely to be a woman,

The wait was well worth while;

How lovely to wear mascara

And smile a woman's smile.

How lovely to have a figure,

That's round instead of flat;

Whenever you hear boys whistle,

You're what they're whistling at.

“Katlynn?” Tommy called out.  “Katlynn? Can you hear me?  Katlynn?”  Tommy’s sister was ignoring him.  Tommy couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not.  Was this some new magic of Malacus?  Tommy didn’t know. Couldn’t know.  “Katlynn?”

His sister didn’t so much as stir.  She just kept staring, mesmerized by the box of pink Pull-Ups there in the diaper aisle. Yes, diaper aisle.  The Bullseye Shopping Center was so big that instead of an aisle, it had a whole baby section, with diapers, pull-ups, and training pants taking up an entire aisle.

Everything was bigger all of a sudden, and not just because Tommy had shrunk again.  His house was bigger.  Two stories! The fact that he now had a house instead of the apartment complex where he’d grownup had been enough to startle Tommy into quiet contemplation while he ate his hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.  The little compartments of his child’s tray had been decorated with pictures of Paw Patrol characters.

That wasn’t all.  After breakfast, Mommy had told Katlynn to go shopping for a few odds and ends and to take Tommy along so she could go over receipts for the antique store.  Katlynn had agreed, and Mommy dressed Tommy up in a t-shirt and shorts that didn’t even go down to the knees.  Aesthetically he was almost identical to the playground that wasn’t a few days ago.  The shirt was blue with a green cactus on it with the words “I like hugs” on it, and the shorts matched. 

Preening in his bedroom’s full length mirror, Tommy quickly figured that if he bent over or raised his arms above his head, anyone looking for it would be able to see the thin waistband of his Paw Patrol Pull-Ups. Not that it mattered.  There was the same obvious padded bulge in his shorts. For all intents and purposes he was wearing a diaper without tapes. 

These had to be thicker than the actual diapers he’d worn last night.  There was that same muted crinkle when he moved, and he didn’t walk as much as literally toddled from foot to foot.  And this was dry! Somehow Tommy knew that when he had an accident, his Pull-Up would sag and swell beyond what it currently was.

Just as he had been considering this, Katlynn grabbed him by the hand, led him out to her car, buckled him into the booster seat, and took off for Bullseye.

Ooof!  So much to unpack there:  A two story house;  getting to wear Pull-Ups full time; Mommy seeming to OWN an antique store (or at least be in a high up position); Katlynn having a car!  Heck! Bullseye was easily one of the most expensive stores in Scrumpton.  

It sold clothing AND toys AND groceries.  Almost nothing was off brand, and even the store brands were significantly more expensive than the stuff at the Shop-N-Go.  It even had a seafood section yet didn’t smell of fish AT ALL!  

In the course of a few weeks, Tommy had gone from being a highschooler to a big toddler; and his family had gone from poor white trash to upper middle class!  And he was the only one that seemed to notice!

What Tommy was noticing right now, though, was how intently Katlynn was staring at that package of pink Pull-Ups.  She seemed intoxicated.  Mesmerized.  Almost lusting after them.  In a rare moment of self-reflection, Tommy frowned.  Is this what he’d looked like back at the Shop-N-Go?  It was so weird seeing it from the outside.

“Katlynn!” He tried again.  “Katlynn?  Can you hear me?  Can you understand me?”  A few days ago, Tommy had been relegated to ‘special classes’ at the school and no matter how many times he proved otherwise, people assumed he was the dumb kid.  Had he gone below even that now?

He’d have reached up to tap her on the shoulder or to pull on the hem of her dress, but he couldn’t even do that much.  The moment they’d gone through the whooshing doors of the store, Katlynn had plopped into the shopping cart’s seat.  He JUST fit, but he still fit.  Tommy couldn’t tell if he’d shrunk that much, or if like a certain pair of thick cloth training pants he’d once worn, the seat had magically expanded just enough to make room for him.  Maybe a bit of both?  At present, Tommy was just out of reach.

“Katlynn? Katlynn!”  Still no reaction.  Katy was in la-la land, biting her lip and sucking on her teeth in between muted whispers.  A lightbulb went over Tommy’s head.  “KATY!”

Her back went rimrod stiff and her head snapped to attention.  The pink package that she’d been inching closer and closer into her hands got shoved all the way back on the shelf.  “What’s up, Tommy?  Do you need changed?”  She looked guilty like she’d been caught doing something wrong; even guiltier when mentioning changing him.

“Changed?” Tommy parroted. “No! I don’t. I mean, I think I don’t…”  Tommy decided right then that he didn’t like grown-ups like Katy asking if he needed changing as much as them just checking and seeing for themselves.  It was just easier that way; less pressure on him to know.  Then he mentally backpedaled realizing that would mean his sister sticking her fingers in his shorts.  “Why are you looking at the pink ones?” he asked.  “I’m a boy.”

“Oh yeah,” Katy agreed.  She patted him on the head.  “You’re a big boy.”  Instinctively, Tommy knew that that was a lie.  Big boys didn’t need to be reminded.  And a growing part of him had no such desire to be one.  “I just got distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” Tommy asked.

Katy spared one last glance at the pink Pull-Ups.  “Nothing…It’s just...sometimes...you wouldn’t understand.” She huffed, then put a package of the blue ones in the cart.  

“Is this about what happened in Malacus?” Tommy whispered.

Katy frowned.  “Malacus?”

“That was completely messed up. I actually wanted to talk to you about it…”

“What’s a Malacus?” Katy asked.  She blinked and mouthed the word, getting a feel for it on her tongue.  “Isn’t that the label on Mom’s old clock?”

“Yes!” Tommy bobbed up and down in his seat. “And it’s the world INSIDE the clock!”

Katy looked like her brother had just suggested she nail jell-o to a tree.  It just didn’t make sense.  “Tommy?  What are you talking about?”

“Y’know,” Tommy pushed. “Last night?  Inside the clock?  You and me?  I was flying.  Nox the centaur had you in a jumper?  You were wearing a diaper…”

Katy’s eyes went wide and wild.  “How do you know that…?!” She’d leaned in and whispered as if Tommy had just cast a spell.  “Did Mom tell you?  Does she know?!”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to be completely taken aback.  “Mommy? I mean..Mom?  No. She wasn’t there.  Just us.”  
Katy’s eyes danced in her head, doing some kind of mental calculus; retracing her steps.  “Okay...okay…” she said.  “So how about this.  If you keep this our little secret, how about I get you some MnM’s?”  

Tommy balked. Secret? Why wouldn’t he keep this a secret?  It’s not like Mommy would believe that the twins had journeyed to a magical fairytale land that was inexplicably diaper them, anyways.

“Peanut MnM’s,” Katy added when she mistook Tommy’s confusion for consideration. “I know they’re your favorite.  They’re still your favorite, right?”  Did she not remember?    She must not have.  But why not?  Why didn’t she remember?

“Sure,” Tommy agreed, if only to ease his twin’s panic.  “I’ll keep your secret.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”  

The tension didn’t quite leave Katy’s frame, but it visibly diminished.  “Thanks,” she said.  “You’re a good little brother.”  She gave him a kiss on the forehead.  Tommy didn’t feel disgusted or cootied out, as much as he felt sorry for whatever Katy was going through.

A rumble in Tommy’s stomach foreshadowed that he was about to go through something himself; or more accurately something was about to go through him.  “Um...Katy,” he started.  “Remember when you asked if I needed to…?”  

“Hey Katy,” a deep baritone called out. 

Katy whipped her head around.  “Jefferson?”  A tall and trim, not quite elven boy walked up to them, but he only had eyes for one of them.  Jefferson was captain of the Scrumpton soccer team and point guard on the basketball team.  Mega jock; mega preppy; and he had the trendy clothes and frosted tips to prove it.  

He’d never done anything to Tommy, but that was probably because he was so far above him, that Tommy wasn’t worth a blip on his radar.  Tommy didn’t even know if Jefferson was the guy’s first or last name.  To everyone on campus, teachers included, the guy was always just ‘Jefferson’.

“How you doin’?” Jefferson asked.

“I’m just shopping for my mom.  Taking care of my little brother.” There was a bit of an awkward pause.  “Y’know...getting him diapers and stuff.  Y’know?”

Jefferson nodded.  “I got a kid brother, myself,” he said.  “I know how it is.”

“We’re twins.” Tommy interjected.

“Good for you, little dude!” Jefferson, reached out.  “High five?”

Instead, Tommy crossed his arms, letting the offered hand hang in the air.  Katy chuckled nervously.  “He’s just shy.”

“It’s cool.”  

A slight cramp made Tommy remember that there were more pressing needs than past slights, real or imagined.  “Katy…” Tommy yelped from his seat in the court.  

It went ignored.  “So what are you doing here?” Katy asked the mega jock.

Jefferson shrugged nonchalantly.  “It’s Sunday.  Nothin’ to do.  Came here to people watch.  Then I started watching you…”

Tommy rolled his eyes.  What a lame and creepy pick-up line.  Katy didn’t seem to think so.  She giggled.  Another cramp made itself known.  “Katy…I gotta...I gotta.”

“Yeah?” Katy asked.  

“Yeah.”  

The two started staring into each other’s eyes.  “Katy...I gotta go potty!”

Katy broke off her gaze long to stare Tommy in the phase.  Katy wasn’t much of a schemer; she never had been anyways; but Tommy knew when the wheels were turning in her head.  He saw a strange combination of the mental calculus when she’d unsuccessfully recalled last night crossed with the bizarre and guilty look she’d gotten when he’d caught her ogling the Pull-Ups.   “Don’t be silly, baby.  You’re not potty trained, yet.”

She turned her back to him.  “Kids.  Y’know?”

“Yeah, my baby bro went through the same thing at that age.  Lots of false alarms.”

“We’re twiiiiiins,” Tommy groaned as a turtle head breached in the back of his shorts.

“It’s true,” he heard Katy say.  “He’s got a condition”

“Yeah?” Jefferson asked.

“Yeah, basically he’ll never mature physically past like...second grade...and mentally like...maaaaybe three?”

“Oh, that’s really cool of you,” Jefferson said.  They were both oblivious to Tommy’s squirming.  

Meanwhile Tommy was at war with himself in more ways than one.  To hold or not to hold? That was the question.  Whether it was nobler to suffer the cramps and pains and continue a battle that he desperately didn’t want to fight, or to admit to himself exactly how much of a baby he really was.   That was the question.  

It wasn’t a question that Tommy got time to answer. Far too soon, his body overridden his will.  What would be the last cramp rocketed through him and out his backside.  “Kaaaaaaty!” Tommy groaned.  His body forced him to lean forward over the shopping cart bar.

The young man was completely aware as the mess poured out of him and into his Pull-Up, squishing against him instead of sagging as it found no room to droop there in the hard plastic and metal seat he was trapped in.  Tommy was equally aware of the conflicting feelings of shame and embarrassment mingling with the feelings of relief and pleasure.  And in the heat of the moment, the ratio was favoring relief and pleasure.  “I POOPIED!”   

There were no gurgling or rude sounds coming out from behind him.  If Tommy hadn’t announced it, there was a very strong possibility that no one would have known (at least if they weren’t close enough to sniff).

Jefferson looked down at his wrist.  “Uh...gotta go.” He had no watch on.  “Wanna chat on Instagram later?”

“I’d like that,” Katy said.  “Alot.”

The popular boy left Katy and Tommy by their lonesome.  Tommy half-expected Katy to whirl around and admonish him for pooping his pants in public.  He’d just cock blocked her with his poopy Pull-Ups.  

She didn’t seem that mad, though.

“Sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Katy said.  “You can’t help it.”   He could though.  Or at least he could’ve if Katy had gotten him out of the shopping cart.  She looked around the cart, this way and that, over and under.  “Dang it!  I forgot to bring your diaper bag,” she huffed.  Tommy couldn’t help but feel that this was a little bit performative on her part.  The cart had some odds and ends in it, but not nearly enough to warrant more than a glance to confirm.

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat when Katy wheeled the cart down to the diapers and put the largest size Huggies in the cart.  “What are you doing?  I’ve got Pull-Ups…”

Katy shook her head.  “And if you’d just wet, I’d change you into them.  But I don’t know how to change a messy Pull-Up.  So diapers it is.” Tommy didn’t know what to say.  Should he cheer? Should he struggle?  Should he whine?  

A little gasp escaped his lips as the front of his Pull-Up warmed and wet.  He could just imagine the little paw prints on his Pull-Up fade away as the droplets of urine splashed on his privates seconds before being absorbed by the padding.  He hadn’t felt that coming at all!  He’d NEEDED the Pull-Ups.

Katy took his silence for pouting.  “Don’t worry, baby brother,” she said to him. She took a moment and threw a packet of wipes in the cart for good measure.  Baby powder, too.  “You can get back in your big boy pull-ups once we get home.”

“Okay…” Tommy mumbled, as he was wheeled away to the checkout line.  Just before they left the baby section,  Katy stopped by a shelf filled with little nick nacks.  Tommy thought he’d seen her grab something, but he didn’t see what.  He was too distracted by the other boy in the neighboring cart.

Passing by them on the way to the diaper aisle was a young mother and her baby.  Except the mother wasn’t all that young, and the baby DEFINITELY wasn’t a baby.  He was smaller that Tommy, maybe the size of a preschooler, and he was obviously wearing a diaper; the complete lack of pants proved that.  But even though his face was as hairless as Tommy’s, he was at least double Tommy’s age.  He wasn’t decrepit by any definition, but Tommy wouldn’t have been surprised to hear if he was in his thirties.

The ‘baby’ made eye contact with Tommy and his face went pale. Tommy imagined it’s the face the Phantom of The Opera might make if someone ever peaked under the mask.   He’d been recognized, and realized as much. 

“Hey,” Tommy called to his sister.  “Did you see that guy?”  

Katy threw a glance over her shoulder.  “Who? That baby going by?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said.  He wanted to bounce, but that would only make the mess in his pants worse.  “Him!  Except that’s not a baby!  He looks more like me!”

That only got a condescending pat from his so-called big sister.  “Don’t worry, Tommy,” Katy promised.  “You’re not really a baby.  You’re a big boy.”   As they turned the corner, Tommy caught a last look at the toddler with a man’s face.  This time, his expression was more pitying than pitiable.

The check out was quick.  Less than twenty items.  Tommy barely even noticed the banter between the cashier or the remark that “Someone needs a change.”  Followed by, “Changing station is in the family bathroom to the left, dear.”   He was too stunned by what he’d just seen for anything to register.

What he did register was how Katy ripped open the pack of Huggies and took out a diaper.  What did register was how she lifted Tommy out of the cart and carried him into the Family bathroom.  What did register was the feeling of the hard plastic of the public changing surface.  

Tommy fit.  Just like with the cart, it was a matter of ‘barely’, but he fit.  Katy pulled the strap over his chest, as if he were some dumb infant that might roll off.  “Just in case,” she promised.  Tommy didn’t complain.  She worked his pants down to his ankles, exposing the Pull-Up.  Rubble had seen better days…

A brief flash of disappointment and panic flared up inside him when Katy put the diaper on his chest. Some part of him was desperately afraid that he wasn’t going to wear it.   “Hold this for me,”  Katy said.  “I gotta get ready.”

Ready, in this instance, meant ripping the safety seal off the package of wipes.  Ditto for the baby powder.  It meant one other thing, too.  Tommy gawked as his sister opened a double pack of pacifiers; one blue and one pink.  “Here,” she said, shoving the blue one in Tommy’s mouth.  “Suck on this.  It’ll help.”  

Tommy tried...and it did  Quite pleasant, really.  He didn’t even think where the other one ended up.

“Okay…” Katy said, more to herself than to him.  “Here...we...go…”  

On ‘go’, she ripped open the sides of the Pull-Up. Slowly...far too slowly.  The sides were flimsy, but unlike his Buzz Lightyear Pull-Ups, the Paw Patrol didn’t have sides that weren’t explicitly meant to be torn open.  What took Mommy less than two seconds, took Katy closer to twelve.  And twelve seconds is a long time to just wait laying in your own filth.  Tommy couldn’t help but feel self conscious.

That feeling only multiplied when the Pull-Up was finally torn open and folded away from him, leaving him exposed.  Katy started immediately breathing her mouth in short staggering breaths.  “What’d you eat?” she asked.  Tommy couldn’t bring himself to say anything, instead choosing to just suck on the rubber nipple in his mouth.

Katy wasn’t as good at changing him as Mommy or Nanny was.  She had far less experience.  Her wiping was more ginger; less decisive.  And her eyes betrayed a feeling of being grossed out.  Tommy knew she wasn’t talking to him, when she mumbled  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  Just a little poop.  That’s all.”  Clearly, in whatever way the world had altered itself, Katy had never been left in charge to babysit.  (And then the thought of needing a babysitter caused him to suckle even harder.)

The cleaning up process was long and uncomfortable (for both of them it seemed).  But Tommy allowed himself a sigh of relief as the last of the messy not-diaper was slid out from beneath him and tossed into the garbage.  His ass scraped a bit under the rough textured plastic.

It was only then that the Huggies was taken from him, unfolded, and then slipped beneath him.  From behind his pacifier, Tommy smiled.  Somehow the cushioning felt even thicker!  “Almost done,” Katy managed to coo as she sprinkled baby powder over his grown.  Tommy allowed himself a giggle.

Then, Katy drew up the diaper between his legs, and sealed him in with the tapes.  Miracle of miracles, it fit!  It shouldn’t have, Tommy realized, but it did.  It was somehow even thicker than his Pull-Ups!  His knees wouldn’t touch!  Katy helped him down off the changing table.  She bent over and was nice enough to pull up his shorts for him.  “All done.”

All done, maybe, but not all covered.  Before, he might have to bend over to show off his Pull-Up.  The diaper was so puffy and bulbous that shorts were just a formality.  The moment, he left the bathroom, everyone would know exactly what he was wearing.

“Thankyou,” Tommy gave his sister a hug.  

And he meant it.

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

That night, Katy fell back on her bed with a devious grin on her face.  She’d done it!  She’d actually done it!  Mom was less than thrilled when Tommy came home in Huggies, of course, and told him as much after she’d changed him out and set him down to watch Thomas and Friends for the millionth time.

“Katy! What were you thinking?  Do you want to set back what little potty training he has?”

“No,” Katy lied.  “I just didn’t know how to change a poopy Pull-Up, is all.  I’ve never had to.”

Mom scoffed.  “It’s just common sense, Katy!  You rip off the Pull-Up.  Clean him up, and then have him step into a new Pull-Up!  It’s not rocket science.  You can even get him in one without having to take his pants all the way off.  You’d have to take one shoe off at most.”

Katy loaded her silver bullet.  “You never taught me that!” she said.  “You hardly ever let me take care of him!  It’s like just because we’re twins you treat us like we’ll both never grow up!”

“That’s not true!” Mom said.  And it wasn’t.  But it didn’t have to be.  Katy could see the look in Mary’s eyes that she was backpedaling.  Backpedaling was good.

“I’m sorry I screwed up,” she said. “He just pooped...and I panicked and...and...yeah.  But I got rid of the diapers.  This was just a one time thing.  I’m sorry.”

It worked like a charm.  Mom left her alone and went back to babying Tommy like she always did, and Katy had the rest of the day to plan and fantasize about right now.

Right now, Katy was laying on the spread out Huggies on her bed.  She hadn’t lied.  She had gotten rid of the diapers...right into her bedroom.  And she’d dispose of them one diaper at a time.  It would just be a matter of ditching them in Tommy’s pail.  The diaper genie bags were pretty opaque, and Mom wouldn’t notice a handful of diapers among all of Tommy’s soiled ‘big boy pants’.

Clumsily, she dusted herself with baby powder, making sure to inhale as the fragrant aroma wafted into her nostrils.  So good.  Putting the bottle aside and closed her eyes and reached forward, pretending that it wasn’t her own hands pulling the diaper up between her thighs.  It was someone else who was taping up the Huggies.  

But who?  Jefferson?  Jefferson was cute, but he wasn’t...big enough….mature enough.  He’d be in the nursery with her...not changing her.  Then who?

The strangest image flashed beyond her eyelids.  Mr. Jordan?  Her math teacher?  Ugh...why him?  And yet, when she thought of him, she suckled on the pink pacifier she’d smuggled away a little harder.  

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” imaginary Mr. Jordan whispered to her.  “Daddy will take care of you.”  Ew!  Why was this turning her on?  Yet as with so many things, in the heat of the moment, even the most rational brain doesn’t ask WHY its turned on. It just goes with it.  “Good girl,” the phantom teacher cooed and whispered.  “Now you’re all nice and safe.  No leaks.”

Katy opened her eyes and looked down at her handy work.  Amazingly, it fit!  The diaper fit!  Katy suckled harder on her new paci. Katy knew she was small, but she hadn’t thought she was baby small!  

She sat up, shuddering at how the fresh padding crinkled beneath her and forced her legs out.  Slowly, she crawled along her bed looking backwards at her ass.  This was unexpected!  Katy had hoped it would fit, but she had imagined that the diaper would be stretched to its absolute limit; with velcro tabs just barely holding it all together.  One wrong move and the thing would rip apart.

Not this though.  The tabs almost touched the center of the landing zone, the material stretched and collapsed with her movement instead of being pulled to its limit.   It was like it had been made for her!

Katy wanted to cry, she was so happy! Instead, she peed herself.  She relaxed her bladder, and let go of the applejuice she’d been holding in since dinner.  It wasn’t the timid little trickle that she released bit by bit when she stole Tommy’s Pull-Ups. This was a complete flood.  

Looking down at her crotch, Amy held her breath, slightly afraid that the garment might leak after all.  Nothing.  No leaks.  The Huggies held it all.  And there was no wetness indicator, no fading designs or color changing lines down the middle of this one.  If Amy hadn’t been already staring, she might not have noticed the slight discoloration of white to off-white in the spots where the diaper absorbed her release.  

“Uh-oh” she whisper-mumbled to herself.  Baby just had an accident.  Katy frowned at that thought and, she corrected herself.  No.  Not uh-oh.  Babies didn’t have accidents.  They were supposed to wet their diapers.  And they didn’t say uh-oh, because nothing had gone wrong.  Nothing short of leaking should merit an “Uh-oh.”  

Instead, she just suckled her pacifier and lightly bounced on her bed, enjoying the warm wet feeling as she squished in her baby pants.  She laid back again, and grabbed her feet, enjoying the crinkle and squish as she tried unsuccessfully to make her knees touch. 

Magical!  Just Magical!

In the middle of her exhilaration, Katy looked over to the giant Teddy Bear in the corner of her bedroom.  A leftover toy from some carnival or another...or maybe it was a birthday present... that had been relegated to decoration status.  Looking at it, Katy had a naughty idea: Babies didn’t just crawl around and wet themselves.  Babies played.  

Toddling over to the corner, Katy through the big stuffie down on the ground, and straddled the midsection.  Good.  Just like she remembered it.  The core of the midsection was flexible, yet firm.  Like a beanbag.  Experimentally, Katy rocked her hips forward, and was rewarded when there was juuuust enough resistance for her to feel something through the thick padding.

Closing her eyes, she picked up the bear’s soft stubby arms for balance, and started to grind her hips through the multiple layers of padding.  But in her mind, Katy wasn’t grinding on a beanbag teddy.  She was riding on Daddy’s knee, holding his hands.

“Giddy up little cowgirl!” A far too familiar voice cheered in her ear.  “Ride ‘em!  Ride that pony!”
The moan from behind her pacifier muffled any misgivings about who she was imagining ‘Daddy’ to be. “Looks like my little girl is wet,” Daddy chuckled, (which was an odd thing because she could never remember hearing Mr. Jordan laugh).  “But not too wet.  We’ll change you later, after we’re done playing.”

Music to Katy’s ears.  “Faster, Daddy!” she whispered out loud but shrieked in her mind’s eye.  And of course, since Katy was actually in control, Daddy went faster.

Faster.

Bumpier.

Katy grunted and groaned as she humped the stuffie, all while giggling at the nice wet tickly feelings down below.

Faster.

Bumpier.

Rougher.

“You’re such a good girl,” Daddy told her.  “Such a happy little baby.”  

Faster.

Bumpier.

Rougher.

Harder.

“I hope you never grow up.”

Those words; those imagined words; are what pushed Katy over the edge into climax.  Now she’s really used her diaper.  Just like a good baby.

Panting and glistening with sweat, Katy collapsed on the floor, smiling stupidly as she sucked on her pink paci.

Best. Day. Ever.  She didn’t even care that she’d technically used her little brother as a diaper mule.

“Wanna play again, baby?” the voice in her head asked.  Silently, Katy nodded as her hands slid down her waist.  The pulp had been moved around alot from all the grinding, but it still felt good.  “Looks like you wet again,” Daddy teased.  “We’ll definitely have to change you after we finish playing.”

Imaginary Daddy lied, though.  Katy didn’t get changed until the alarm on her phone woke her up for school the next morning.  

[Personalias]

Chapter 33:  A different kind of date night.
He wanted a girl who hates dusty roads

He wanted a girl who cries porcelain tears

He wanted a girl who'd put locks on the door

To protect all those gemstones she's got in her ears

“His bedtime is eight o’clock,” Mom said.  “Don’t let him try to stall you or tell you otherwise.”

Amanda Monroe nodded her head.  “Yes ma’am.”

“I already gave him a bath this morning, so he shouldn’t need one tonight.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Make sure he tries to go potty before bed, and change him into his nighttime Pull-Ups too.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“He can watch cartoons for one hour, after dinner.” Mom held up her pointer and showed it specifically to Tommy.

“Yes ma’am.” Amanda and Tommy said in unison.

Mom returned her full attention to Amanda.  “There's microwavable macaroni and cheese in the freezer for him, and a frozen pizza for you.  On the off chance that his sister comes home from her date early,  just text me and I’ll venmo you for the full time. My number and all the emergency numbers are on the refrigerator.  I’ll be back by ten.”
Amanda nodded demurely.  “Yes ma’am.”

Mom took a knee and looked at Tommy.  “Have you tried going potty lately?”

“Uh-huh.”  That was a lie and Tommy knew it.  

“Promise to be good for you babysitter?”

Tommy looked up to Amanda Monroe.  “Uh-huh!” This was not a lie.  Whatever strange reality warping effects had twisted his size and other people’s memories, Tommy had decided that this was one of the good ones.

He’d spent all day pretending to learn letter sounds and how to count to twenty as his mother “homeschooled” him.  He didn’t even go to school anymore, it seemed.  He might have still been eighteen, but now he was too “little” to go to public school and Mom was suddenly well off enough to keep him home and bombard him with educational television and toys, alongside crayon worksheets and books meant to make the potty less scary for toddlers.

This may or may not have been frustratingly boring if she hadn’t slipped that both she and Katy were going to be out of the house tonight, and so he would have a babysitter:  “Miss Amanda.”  That had caught Tommy off guard in the best possible way and he’d spent the rest of the afternoon making sure to act like someone who needed a babysitter.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Dean,” Amanda chirped.  “Me and Tommy will have lots of fun.”  She pulled Tommy into a side hug, his face planting just above the soft skin of her hip and Tommy wished that his face would just melt off and merge with it right here.  “Do you like board games, buddy?”  She gestured over to the coffee table where boxes of Candy Land, Uncle Wiggly, and Shoots and Ladders had been stacked.

Tommy looked up adoringly at her. He loved board games if it meant sitting across from her. Amanda Monroe, the real Amanda Monroe. No more pointy elf ears. No more fantasy facsimiles. And Tommy had already done the math, so to speak:  If no one ever remembered him going to school; then Amanda wouldn’t remember him either.  This was an unprecedented opportunity.  A fresh start.  A second chance to make a first impression!  No more D-List.  

Not even a week ago, Amanda had held his hand and his entire soul had tingled.  Now she was pressing his head against her hip.  His insides were on fire.  Before, she’d taken him to the nurse’s office when he’d wet his pants.  Tommy had taken it as a sign of her sweet, caring, nurturing nature.  Tonight, she was his literal babysitter!  

It’s why Tommy had lied about going potty.  His reduced stature had had the side effect of making it...difficult...to get to the potty on time.  For the last few days, Tommy’s bladder had gone from zero to ready to explode in a matter of half-a-minute at best.  Was his bladder that much smaller, or was it just his internal sensitivity that reduced?  As soon as Tommy learned that Amanda would be taking care of him, Tommy decided that he didn’t know and didn’t care.

He'd made every effort to NOT make it to the potty that afternoon; and to focus on getting rid of any outward sign of urgency, discomfort, or even enjoyment (especially enjoyment) when he wet himself.  Not-coincidentally, he’d been very focused on staying hydrated and Mommy hadn’t had the heart to limit his fluids.  

Why was he doing all this?  Because little boys who did the potty dance and fidgeted might get picked up and put on the potty, but toddlers who just kept playing or singing or laughing through their accident just got checked and changed.  Tommy was sabotaging his own toilet training just so that Amanda could give him the full baby treatment.

Just the thought, the fleeting fantasy of Amanda changing him- laying him down, cooing at him while she wiped his penis for him as he giggled up at her and sucked his thumb- was giving him a raging erection that only something as thickly padded as his Pull-Ups and denim shorts could hope to hide.  (Ironically enough, this would also make it more difficult to pee.)

“You be good for Miss Amanda,” Mom said. Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and then walked out the door into the pre-dusk light.

And then he was alone.  With Amanda. Tommy’s throat went dry.  “So what do you wanna do first, little guy?”  Amanda asked.

Tommy’s mind raced. There was no “good” answer to that question.  So many things he wanted to do to her and her to do to him.  He waddled back and drove his hands into his pockets.  The still crips crinkle from his pants signalled that he was still very much dry.  How to kill time and wait for his bladder to catch up to that big gulp’s worth of water he’d chugged half-an-hour ago.

“Um...Candyland?” he said, as bits of guilt radiated in his spine.

“Deal!” she said.

Amanda took her spot on the couch in front of the coffee table and began setting the children’s game up.  Tommy was about to take a seat next to her, and then course corrected for the floor.  Not only was it socially appropriate for him to play on the carpet, he calculated, but it would also get him a good look at Amanda’s cleavage every time she leaned forward on the couch.

“Which gingerbread man do you want to be?”

It took three turns for Tommy to calm down enough to start being interested in the game.  It had been awhile since he’d been “old enough” to play this game, but Tommy quickly realized there was absolutely no skill involved; complete crap shoot.  On turn one he’d gotten the best possible draw short of a picture shortcut.  On turn two, he only moved one square.  On turn four he managed to cheat a bit by pretending he didn’t see one square and moved double while Amanda checked something on her phone.

On turn five, his bladder finally got into the game.  His padding went soggy almost immediately, and even though the quiet hiss resonated in his ears, Amanda didn’t seem to notice as her game piece click and clacked along the board.  “Having fun?” she asked.  Tommy nodded, but his dopey grin had nothing to do with the game or the colors...almost nothing.

Tommy waited, and bided his time on the carpet.  He was starting to enjoy the game, as well as the view.  The feeling of the wet Pull-Up taking on a hard kind of squish as the pulp absorbed and spread out was nice too.  Maybe wait till after the game, Tommy told himself.  If he was too quick about telling on his “accident”, Amanda might think he was big enough to change himself.

Flashes of last time he’d peed his pants in front of her flitted across his eyelids.  She had been nice enough, for sure, but she’d left him as soon as another adult took charge.  And the school nurse had insisted that Tommy clean himself up (not that he’d wanted the nurse’s tender ministrations).

Tommy wanted more than just being plopped on the potty and being told to clean himself up.  He had to play this right.  He had to prove that he was little enough to need help.  In the meantime, he was enjoying the game and the scenery.

One game turned to two.  Two to three.  Midway through game three Tommy’s bladder let loose again.  Such an odd feeling, wetting his already wet pants.  He supposed he felt a little bit wetter, but the contrast wasn’t nearly as stark between pure dry and wet.  Just a slight heat from the fresh urine, the feeling of relief from the empty bladder and a tad bit more weight being distributed as the Pull-Up did its best to absorb the new stuff, passing it on to dryer pastures when the already wet sections had become saturated.

No wonder real babies were so hard to potty train.  If Tommy hadn’t been paying specific attention to his bladder he might not have realized he was peeing that second time.  No wonder adults had to check…

CHECK!  That was it!  He wouldn’t tattle on himself.  He’d let his wet Pull-Up tattle for him.  Surely, Amanda wouldn’t trust him to clean himself up if he just kept squishing around in wet pants until she noticed.  

The perfect plan!

“How about some din-din?”  Amanda asked, breaking, Tommy’s concentration.

Tommy  agreed and stood up.  THAT was different.  The quasi-diaper sagged beneath him, swelling up in his pants and drooping back down towards the carpet.  NOTICEABLY!  There was no way that Amanda wouldn’t notice that he needed changing.

And yet…

Several minutes went by.  The microwave beeped, and a steaming bowl of macaroni and cheese was placed in front of his booster seat.  Amanda didn’t say one thing.  Not about his pants.  Not about whether or not he needed to use the potty.  Nothing except.  “Okay, Tom-Tom.  Time to dig in.”  She plopped a plastic spoon into the yellow noodles before hoisting Tommy up into his booster chair by the armpits.

Even that bit of physical contact caused Tommy to mellow.  That was fine.  This was fine.  Everything was fine.  “What are you gonna eat?”  Tommy asked.

“Like your mom said,” Amanda replied, “I’ve got some pizza.  I’m not hungry just yet.  I’ll probably have some after you go to bed.”

That was a bit of a bummer, Tommy thought, but at least that meant he’d be the center of attention! So overcome with a combination of joy and hunger, that several spoonfuls of mushy cheesy goodness made it into his mouth before an idea occurred to him.  Darn it!  Missed opportunities!  Still...worth a try.

“Miss Amanda,” Tommy mewled, trying to sound cute.  “Do you think you could help me?”

Amanda looked up from her phone.  “With what?”

“Maybe you could...feed me?”

He got a condescending smirk.  “Cute,” she said.  “But I don’t think you need any help with that.”

“Maybe you could blow on it for me?  Like my Mommy does?”

“You just shoveled a bunch into your mouth.  It’s not too hot.”

Tommy fought the urge to snap his fingers in regret.  Still it had been worth a try.  Even this rejection had been nicer and softer than anything Amanda had said to him before.  Tonight might have been the first time that Tommy could remember having something resembling small talk.

 Couldn’t blame him for trying…

Time for one last ditch effort.

The eighteen year old toddler opened his eyes as big as they could, pouted his lip out and jutted his chin.  Time for full puppy dog face.  “PWEEEEEEEEEASE!”  

Amanda giggled and rolled her eyes.  “Fine,” she said.  Then she bent over

“Thank you!” Tommy said, and then he began shoveling more of the processed noodles down his throat.

Amanda didn’t say, “You’re welcome”.  Instead she said something that might’ve been better.  “Boys.  You’re all the same.”  On some level, Amanda knew Tommy was flirting with her, and she wasn’t outright disgusted by it or rejecting him!

Mouth still full of macaroni, Tommy looked down at his pants.  There was a definite lump in the front, almost like his underwear was eggshapped.  How was she not noticing that he needed changing?  A quick glance up from the table confirmed that she was again looking at her phone?

What was so interesting?  

Tommy cleared his throat.  Nothing.  He did it again, and got a napkin absentmindedly handed to him.  “Careful with that cough.  Cover your mouth.”   Another brilliant idea entered his brain!

If coughing got him a napkin.   Carefully,  Tommy gave the front of his pants a pat.  The crinkling wasn’t nearly as crisp as before, but it was still audible.  Maybe the sound of a wet Pull-Up being jostled would remind his new sitter to check.  

Nothing.

He gave it a firmer pat and a squeeze.  Then another.  Then another.  Without consciously realizing it, Tommy was starting to rub himself through the wet padding.  The crinkling continued, and then

And she still wasn’t looking at him.  Tommy rubbed his Pull-Up harder and faster, quickly building up steam, until there was more going on in his pants than just some light rustling.  

Amanda wasn’t looking at him, but he could still see her face.  So perfect.  So beautiful.  And the fact that she wasn’t looking at him groping his penis through the thick padding was ceasing to make him feel ignored as much as it was giving him the impression of him getting away with something.  He wasn’t being ignored and unnoticed...he was being naughty.

How Tommy loved the feeling of being naughty!

She knew what he was doing.  That’s what he told himself, anyways.  How could she not?   How could she not hear the noise he was making?  How could she not look away from her phone.  She was pretending. Maybe if he moaned a little bit?  No...no...not subtle enough.  Why ruin it?

Almost there….

She would catch him.  Then she would call him a naughty little thing and talk about how little boys shouldn’t play with themselves!

Almost there!

She would let him finish, and then stop pretending to notice.  She’d coo at him and playfully ask him if he was all done.  THEN she’d take him back to his room and change him into a nice clean pair of Pull-Ups.  She’d only been pretending not to notice because deep down she knew what was happening and didn’t want him the Pull-Up to be wasted...

Almost THERE!

THUNK THUNK THUNK!

Still in his booster seat, Tommy startled and shook.  Just like with his peeing into the already wet padding, he couldn’t tell if he’d cum or just instantly lost his erection from shock.  He certainly didn’t feel any sense of relief.  His heart was beating too hard, and mischievous delight was giving way to shame and guilt.  Within seconds the only throbbing going on was in his chest.

Tommy’s heart both leapt into his throat and plummeted down into his stomach.  Simultaneously he felt as if he’d been caught on the verge of doing something awful and wrong or been interrupted just before he made it all the way.  Tommy jerked his head over to the oven clock.  Was the date over already?  It couldn’t be!  Neither his mother or his sister should be back by now. More importantly, no one who lived here would knock.  Both Katlynn and Mom had keys.

Amanda got up from the couch and ran for the door like an excited labradoodle.  Tommy did his best to follow her, but his sagging underwear got in his way, forcing him to contort out of the chair and waddle along the ground most uncomfortably.  Trying to beat off through his wet pants had only spread the pulp around, making it lumpy and awkward and his dick slightly raw.

Amanda didn’t even look over her shoulder as she unlocked and opened the door.  “Heeeeeeeeeey!” she squealed.

“Hey?”  Tommy wondered.  “Hey who?” Regrettably, he didn’t have to wait long for his answer.  The door flung open, and Tommy lost his breath.  “Assassin….”   Josh Hamlin was no elven assassin, however.  Nor was Amanda an ex-sorceress queen.  Neither of those facts helped Tommy unclench his jaw and fists as Amanda leaned in and gave Josh a hug and a kiss on the lips.

“Hey babe,” Josh said.  He stepped in through the door and Amanda locked it behind him.  “Sorry I took so long.  Nice place.”

“Yeah,” Amanda agreed.  “Ms. Dean is kinda loaded.”

Every step that Hamlin took into the house made Tommy shake a little bit more with rage.  Technically, Tommy couldn’t remember living in this place for more than a couple days, but it had still been his infinitely longer than Josh’s.

Bully. Invader.  Trespasser.  He had no right to be here and Amanda was letting him sling himself over her like a cheap coat.

While Tommy still had the lingering nerd habit of relating life to various forms of musical theater, he was finding Dr. Seuss more than up to the task in this instance.  Josh should not be here. He should not be a bout.  He should not be here when Tommy’s mother was out.

“What is he doing here?” Tommy sneered.  Josh was unwelcome any day of the week, this evening was no exception.

His fearsome expression did not have the desired effect.  “Oh…” Amanda said.  It was as if she didn’t expect Tommy to have any quarrels about uninvited guests; yet alone Josh Hamlin.  “Tommy, this is Josh.  He’s my uh...helper.  He’s my babysitter’s helper.”

“Sup, little man?”  Casually, thoughtlessly even, Josh gave Amanda another kiss and boiled Tommy’s blood an extra degree.  He even was bold enough to reach forward and try to pat Tommy on the head.  He got his hand slapped away from his trouble.

“He’s not supposed to be here,” Tommy growled.

“Oh don’t be rude,” Amanda cooed at him.  “Big girls like me...need company every now and then.  Otherwise we get...lonely.”

Tommy felt himself tearing up.  “But...but...you’re supposed to be MY…” he stopped himself and corrected.  “..babysitter.  My babysitter.”

Amanda took a knee and wiped away his tears.  “Sorry, bud.  You’re too...little for me.”

“I’m eighteen!”

Josh laughed.  “Sure you are, little dude.  Sure you are.”

“Actually he is,” Amanda looked up behind her.  “He’s got some kind of developmental condition.”

“Seriously?  I thought he was like six, tops.”  

“I’m telling!” Tommy said.  He pointed up to Josh.  “When my Mommy gets back, I’m telling that you had him over!”  That made Josh look distinctly uncomfortable.  The discomfort more than doubled when Tommy added.  “Josh Hamlin! Senior at Scrumpton High!”  Josh looked like he was actually considering hitting Tommy.

“But Tommy,” Amanda said; her voice sickeningly sweet.  “If you do that, your Mommy will never hire me to babysit you again.  We’ll never get to play Candyland ever again.  You don’t want that, do you?”

Damn it.

Damn it! Damn it!  Damn it!

She DID know!  She knew how he felt about her and was manipulating him just like her high fantasy counterpart!  And this time Tommy had no magic strength or flight to counter with.

A cramping  in his stomach cut off any reply that Tommy might have formulated.  A moan, not of pleasure, but pain, took to the air as he helplessly filled the back of his pants up to the brim. Try as he might, Tommy just froze and watched as condescending and manipulative stares mutated to disgust.  He couldn’t even slam his eyes shut.  

His ex-peers weren’t looking away, and neither could he, much as he’d wished.

He got no replies of “oopsie”, or coos that he needed to get changed.  He saw no adoring faces ready to baby him.  No one was readying to change him or use any euphemism to make his act seem or feel more innocent or cute.

“JESUS!” Josh yelped, pinching his nose and waving his hand in front of his face. “Did he do what I think he did?  Did he just shit himself?”

“Yup,” Amanda sighed.  “He’s not potty trained.  He’s been waddling around in pissy pants all night, too.  I’ve been putting off changing him.”  

SO SHE HAD NOTICED!  

“I think he was starting to beat off too.  Kinda awkward.”  Josh didn’t laugh...but that made it worse.  “I don’t think it’s his fault.”

“Totally not,” Josh agreed.  “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.  But uh...d’you mind...baby sitter?”

Amanda stood up and grabbed Tommy by the arm.  “Come on, Tommy, let’s pop you in the shower real quick.  Fastest way to clean you up.  Then it’ll be time for bed.”

“But it’s only seven thirty!” Tommy whined!    

“In the shower, Tommy,” Amanda ordered.  That’s that!  You’re stinky and poopy and I don’t have the patience to deal with this right now!”  Her voice was stern and authoritative.

Tommy felt little and small, but not particularly loved.  Just helpless.

Tommy felt his will melt away.  He was just a chore to her. Something to manipulate and deal with and get paid.   That filled his head more than the sound of any crinkling off of bathroom tiles or the sound of running water being switched on.

The shower was quick.  And though Tommy had been forced to strip down naked in front of her, he felt neither excitement or a sense of intimacy.   He was neither a baby nor a boyfriend...and he’d so hoped he could be at least one or the other to Amanda; something to be loved.   Rather, he was a prisoner in his own home, with a guard that he really didn’t feel he knew or understood.

She showered him off and used the movable head to target his filthy bum and his pee soaked front.  Like a good prisoner, Tommy stood still.  A warm washcloth was used to pry loose what couldn’t be spayed off.  The contents of the Pull-Up were dumped into the toilet before being tied up in a plastic shopping bag to contain the smell.  

From a technical standpoint, Amanda was doing her job.  But there was no love.  Tommy was just beginning to accept that….

He didn’t put up a fight when she wrapped a towel around him and carried him to his bedroom.  He didn’t fuss when she popped open a pair of Buzz Lightyear nighttime Pull-Ups and proclaimed him ready for bed.  He didn’t cry when she tucked him in, turned on the nightlight and then closed the door...not loudly anyway.

Through the door he could hear Amanda and Josh talking.  He couldn’t hear the words, but the tone told him all he needed to know.  They weren’t talking about him anymore at least.  The couch in the living room was no longer beat up.  Neither was the old clock.  Yet when the clock struck eight, he  could still imagine he heard old springs squeaking in the living room, and the moaning of two teenagers grinding against each other; their tongues down each other’s throats. Part of him wished he could sneak out and escape to that bizarre and terrible world contained within that clock.

Tommy went to sleep that night with tears in his eyes, left only to imagine what could have happened.  It was something he’d become adept at, but was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with.    Even the admittedly pleasant feeling of wet padding up against his skin didn’t blunt the hurt he was feeling just then.  Amanda was never going to be his.

Not in this reality or any other.

He’d wasted so much time pining after and seeking some form of connection that could never form.  That was something that was more impossible than anything Malacus offered.

It was that night that Tommy learned to distinguish between living in a fantasy world and an imaginary one.