The Lovington Effect: Lover Boy 9 The Baby Shower (Completed)

[direking]

Hey! Welcome to the Lovington Effect. I hope you stick around for awhile.

 

While writing Without Merit, I thought of a prequel for my prequel even though there isn't a sequel, or an actual story for that matter. However, Lover Boy takes place in the 1980s, and it was supposed to be a one-shot, then the music took over. And entirely different story came out. 

 

A warning though. This story is rougher than Without Merit, and is a lot darker. It also contains frequent mentions of a sexual assault. If that is big concern to you, there are other great stories on this site.

 

All characters are over eighteen.

 

Thanks for reading.

 

1: Private Eyes

2: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

3: Every Breath you Take...

4: ... I'll be Watching You

5: You Spin me Round (Like a Record)

6: The Voice Beyond the Mirror

7: Total Eclipse of the Heart

8: The New Forever

9: The Baby Shower

 

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Lover Boy 1988 Part 1: Private Eyes
 
Every girl in Lovington knew about Beau Taylor. He was a walking, talking cautionary tale; all too similar to Icarus, fly too close to his hotness and your heart was sure to melt. Senior quarterback for the varsity football team, muscular build, tight denim jeans. Notorious bad boy with good hair. What was there not to like?
 
He had bedded a good number of the girls in school, and a good number of girls outside of school as well. No one from the female persuasion was safe from the ‘Lover Boy’.
 
The upperclassmen hung out on the lawn after the final bell, finding spots among the green grass, on the side of the concrete stairs, or beneath the shade of a half a dozen oak trees that lined the side of the school.
 
The football players laid claim to a grassy knoll that overlooked the parking lot. From their high perch, they would catcall and wolf-whistle at all the girls. Appreciating the angry looks from mothers and fathers who happened to pick up their blushing virginal daughters from high school.
 
Beau found his friends already there, laid about the ground, lounging and laughing.
 
His best friend, Sherrod, sat taller between a pair of reclining oversized humans known as offensive linemen, Monster and Handley. Sherrod was an incredible athlete like Beau, they shared the backfield as quarterback and running back. They also shared the same outfit that day. Black shirt, blue jeans and denim jacket, down to the same bright red Converse shoes.
 
Beau slapped the back of his black friend to grab his attention, catching Sherrod by surprise.
 
Loudly announcing his presence with, “How are you three queers doing?”
 
The three supposed ‘queers’ laughed as they exchanged special handshakes without leaving the ground.
 
Monster looked up and asked, “What’s up, Beau?”
 
“Nothing besides my dick.” The quarterback handled his crotch through his jeans.
 
They all laughed again.
 
“No, seriously man,” Beau continued, “my johnson is a little tired, it had quite the weekend.”
 
“No shit?” Sherrod flashed a curious smile.
 
“No shit, my man. You know how I score on and off the field. I’m talking about Vanessa, Christine, and Holly. I’m talking about how I get busy!”
 
Next came something of a pelvic thrust to make sure his friends picked up his subtle connotation.
 
Handley appeared surprised. “I didn’t think Holly was the type for that kind of thing.”
 
“That’s where you’re mistaken, tubby.” Beau corrected him. “All of the ladies are the type for the ‘Lover Boy’.”
 
Sherrod groaned. “Come on, you don’t have to show us your ass again.”
 
But it was already too late, the jeans and the BVDs were already mid-buttock, revealing his heart tattoo with the words ‘Lover Boy’ on his upper right cheek.
 
They didn’t want to look, but a heart-shaped tattoo on a pasty white ass has the innate capacity to grab attention.
 
“You need to stop showing everyone your butt,” Sherrod warned him after catching an eyeful. “People are going to think that you’re homo or something.”
 
“Well, I’m not the one who keeps staring at my buns of steel. What does that say about you guys?”
 
Beau intermittently flexed his cheeks side to side like an experienced male stripper in a speedo. Which caught the attention of a trio of girls just beyond the football players. He made sure to give them a wink when he was done pulling up his pants.
 
Monster gave the girls a wink, too. But they laughed incredulously and turned away from him. Maybe the big guy needed a tattoo on his butt.
 
Handley asked, “Beau, why are you even here with us lowly, car-less peons — where’s the firebird?”
 
Beau shrugged his backpack further over his shoulder and looked away.
 
“You know, the old Bird is in the shop, getting its oil changed.”
 
This was a lie. He had totaled his muscle car early Sunday morning. Right after showing Vanessa the ‘Lover Boy’ in the backseat and sending her limping back to her parents. Also, right after downing a six pack of beer. His parents were more than a little pissed at him about the wrecked car, especially his tough-love mom. She said that there would be a few changes coming his way. A dire warning that Beau didn’t care to heed.
 
Speaking of his mom, he saw her station wagon turn the corner. Beau rushed towards the getaway vehicle, waving at the dudes, blowing kisses to the ladies. He didn’t want anyone to see him getting into the car with his mom. He had a reputation to uphold.
 
“See ya, losers.” Beau called back. “Catch you at practice tomorrow, and I’ll see you girls after the game.”
 
He jogged down the hill to where the wagon ran idle at the curb. Beau didn’t even notice Vanessa in the front seat until he was literally right on top of the car. The surprising sight caused him to trip as he rocketed down the hill, his hurried stumbling and fall braced by the impact of the long wood-paneled hood of the station wagon.
 
How had he not spotted her there?
 
The loud blonde hair, the blinding pink halter top, and dangling earrings should have been noticed from the top of the hill, from over a block away, or the next county over.
 
Beau played it off as being silly, he was good looking enough to get away with being a klutz if it looked like he did it on purpose. He comically stretched out over the hood of the car like a bikini model. Moment saved.
 
Vanessa rolled down the window with the hand crank.
 
“Beau, what the hell are you doing on your mom’s car?”
 
Mmm. There was that tasty condescension that he loved about his girlfriend.
 
If you could call it ‘going steady’, he and Vanessa were the closest thing to going steady. Obviously, it didn’t mean they were completely true to one another.
 
“I have a better question,” Beau said as he pulled himself upright and back onto his feet. “What are you doing inside my mom’s car?”
 
Vanessa did what she did best, dealing with his childishness by running a hand through her hair. The fake blonde, over done, hair-sprayed fashion statement was partially to blame for the hole in the o-zone layer.
 
All joking aside, it wasn’t all bad to be with a girl like Vanessa.
 
She did have her perks; two of them in fact, and they sat on her chest in the most beautiful fashion, straining the thin fabric of the pink halter top. Ten years ago, it would have been empowering for her not to even wear a bra. Suddenly, Beau dreamed of driving a Delorean and meeting a crazy guy named Doc.
 
She leaned out the window.
 
“Quit being stupid, I’m trying to run some errands with your mom.”
 
Beau hesitated outside of the car.
 
“Errands? Where are you guys heading?”
 
His mom turned from the driver seat, her thick glasses captured the light in a weird way. It made her eyes look all funny.
 
“We need to pick up a few things from ‘Ma’ Webber’s for a baby shower.”
 
Mrs. Taylor lit the cigarette between her lips.
 
“Baby shower?” Beau grinned. “I hope I’m not going to be a daddy.”
 
He winked at Vanessa who lightly tousled her hair again to dismiss his stupidity.
 
Vanessa answered matter-of-factly, “You won’t be.”
 
He was in the back of the station wagon without any fuss, leaning over the front seat without a seatbelt, and bothering Vanessa as much as he could with his mom present. That only lasted a few minutes, as Vanessa didn’t seem to care for Beau, or his presence, or his flirtatious sense of humor. Recognizing a lost cause, Beau finally gave up.

 

The radio played a fuzzy tune, the tired speakers in doors kicked out the whinging guitars of Hall and Oates. The song was called 'Private Eyes'.

 

Private Eyes
they're watching you
they see your every move
Private Eyes
they're watching you
Private Eyes
they're watching you
watching you
watching you
watching you

 

Beau drummed along with the beat with his fingers. The car strolled down main street, past the city park, slowing as it went by the old government lab just outside the center of town.

 

You play with words
you play with love
you can twist it around baby
that ain't enough
cause I'm gonna know
if you're letting me
in or letting me go
don't lie when you're hurting inside
'cause you can't escape my
Private Eyes

 

He settled on chilling against the vinyl seat, trying to put together why he even bothered with Vanessa in the first place. Then he reminded himself of exactly two reasons ‘why’.
 
As he leaned back, he looked out the side window as the station wagon came to a stop in front of a house, not a baby store.
 
Beau instantly recognized the house. It’s where he picked up Christine last Friday night; before he showed her the ‘Lover Boy’ in the back of the movie theatre. Oh boy, did Vanessa know about Christine? Because Christine knew about Vanessa, and she told Beau that she didn’t care if he already had a girlfriend.
 
He watched in horror as Christine came out of the house and approached the passenger side with a brooding look, her jaw set and her eyes forward like living was an awful chore.
 
She went by Christine, not ever Chrissy, you’d get popped in the mouth for calling her that. And she was the typical punk rock type, a metal head, a headbanger. Always wore black clothing, black jeans, ripped t-shirt, short cropped black hair. Even the leather fingerless gloves were black, and they looked great against her ivory skin. Multiple piercings in each ear, multiple studs in her leather jacket. She gave off a lot of that ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of vibe.
 
But that didn’t keep away the ‘Lover Boy’.
 
Beau could see past the rough exterior, which was easy to do since he’d more than once seen her naked. Her skinny pale figure had the slightest of curves at her breasts and hips, and was something to die for in the dark. Her bodacious body was worth all of the trouble that it came with, even if it drew the ire of the tempestuous blonde riding up front.
 
Christine spoke to Vanessa.
 
“You guys are running a little late, Vanessa. I just called Holly to tell her we were on our way.”
 
Beau choked. “Holly, too?”
 
Not her. Anyone but her.
 
The girls turned his way and gave him a condescending glare to prove how much they were planning on ignoring him.
 
Vanessa addressed Christine as coldly as a suspicious lover.
 
“Thanks for coming with us, Christine. It wouldn’t happen any other way. She wanted us all to be there.”
 
“Who? What?” Beau sounded the alarm.
 
Vanessa interrupted him. “Beau, sweetie, us grown-ups are trying to talk.”
 
Grown-ups? Sweetie? Her name calling had certainly been toned down this afternoon. Normally, Vanessa called him every four and five letter word that could make a sailor blush.
 
“We got to motor if we want to make it on time,” Vanessa continued, undeterred. “Hop in the back with little Beau, and we can be on our way.”
 
Christine was already pulling her seatbelt over her chest before they got moving again.
 
She asked, “What took you guys so long?”
 
“Beau was all about dry humping the hood like Tawny Kitaen,” explained Vanessa.
 
“I wasn’t dry humping anything,” complained Beau.
 
“Sure, you weren’t.” Christine tapped his cheek with a belittling soft touch.
 
He slid to the bottom of his seat as Christine settled down next to him. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It felt like calamity was knocking at the door, and all he could do was hide behind the curtains. Beau didn’t want to go to Holly’s house, see Holly’s face, or share the same planet as Holly.
 
There were reasons why he wasn’t as proud of his conquest of Holly as he was Christine and Vanessa.
 
It could be scratched up to miscommunication. He’d leave it at that.
 
They had to check the addresses when they pulled up to Holly’s street, because all of the houses in the neighborhood looked the same. This one had a real quaint cottage appeal, a real copycat of the house next door and the one next door to that. Vanessa spotted little Holly on the porch-swing in front of her house, just rocking back and forth in a slow, melancholy way. She wasn’t taking this well, some girls don’t after getting the ‘Lover Boy’.
 
Holly was demure, mousy little thing in round glasses. A naive brunette that always wore cheap dresses that looked ripped straight out of Little House on the Prairie. She liked puppies, kittens, rainbows and ponies, they were all over her Lisa Frank trapper keeper. She was so childish and innocent, and Beau —
 
Beau gritted his teeth.
 
He growled, “Why does she have to come with us?”
 
Christine recoiled. “Whoa, Beau. What’s crawled up your butt?”
 
“I just don’t fucking — I mean, I just don’t like her, she’s super weird, a real psycho like in that Carrie movie.”
 
Mrs. Taylor waved a bony finger at her son.
 
“Young man, you need to do a better job of watching your mouth, or I’ll pull this car over.”
 
Beau slammed the front seat with an overhead swing from both of his hands.
 
“We’re already pulled over, mom! Quit being such an idiot all the time.”
 
Christine put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but he rebuffed her touch with an angry shrug.
 
“Beau, you don’t have to spaz out on your mom like that.”
 
It was just so strange. All of these women in the same place was doing things to his mind. Making him think about things, and Beau didn’t like to think about things. Reflection was only for mirrors, not for Beau Taylor. He wouldn’t reflect on what happened this weekend, he wouldn’t think about it at all.
 
His knuckles were in his mouth, stifling a tiny internal scream.
 
He was still deep in his non-reflection when the car door opened. Holly was there, but her usual braces-filled smile was noticeably missing, and something cold and callous filled its place. No, she wasn’t taking the ‘Lover Boy’ treatment very well at all.
 
He still greeted her, pretending to be all friendly-like even if he knew they weren’t friends.
 
“What’s happening, Holly?”
 
Beau tried to mend the fence, but it looked beyond repair.
 
“Oh, hi Beau,” Holly replied, nasally and snarky. “When did you start sucking your thumb like a baby?”
 
He didn’t even realize his hand was already back in his mouth. Beau quickly yanked it away, pretending to scratch his chin, or anything besides sucking his thumb. His frazzled response very much the opposite of being the ‘Lover Boy’.
 
“I’m not sucking my thumb, I was just —“
 
Holly interrupted, “Sucking your fingers?”
 
Mrs. Taylor weighed in on the subject as she put the car into gear.
 
“My baby Beau always had an oral fixation. When he wasn’t on a bottle, he was on a pacifier. Took a damn long while to kick that habit.”
 
His mom frowned as she flicked the ash free from her cigarette out the rolled down window.
 
Christine giggled, “Oh, really.”
 
“That explains a lot actually,” Vanessa added. “His obsession with certain things, am I right Christine?”
 
“You’re right, can’t keep his mouth off of them.”
 
Vanessa scowled towards the backseat in the overhead rear view mirror. At both Beau and Christine.
 
What were these girls doing? Talking about ‘Lover Boy’ things in front of his mom! You didn't do that to a guy. He wasn't one to be afraid of a little innuendo, but there was a time and place to be sexual, and this wasn't it. That kind of talk was best saved for the backseat of the Bird, or the row furthest from the screen where no one could see or hear.
 
Or in a restroom at her parent's restaurant.
 
No. Why couldn't he block that out? He couldn't push that out of his mind like he wanted. It stuck around like a bad smell, as soon as it left his mind, it found its way back like a boomerang.
 
Beau searched about the car for someone to take his side, but no one came to his defense. He suddenly felt exposed, and he didn’t like it one bit.
 
“You’re all just trying to be funny, like I’m sucking my thumb right before we go shopping for a baby shower. What are you going to do? Buy me a pacifier? Goo-goo, gaa-gaa.”
 
He expected them to laugh, especially when he broke into the baby talk. They just stared at him, as empty of mirth as a funeral.
 
“You’re starting to get the right idea,” Holly laughed.
 
Then the whole car laughed. In unison.
 
Things were getting sorta weird around here, and Beau had enough of being outnumbered by their little hen party. There was far too much estrogen in the air, he had to puff his hairy chest to counter all the womanly energy. Something to do with aligning of the moon and the coordination of their monthly cycles. Deep thinking stuff.
 
“Who’s this baby shower for, anyways?” Beau shot back with some swagger. “I’d like to know which one of you got knocked up.”
 
The car went silent again.
 
He shrugged like the Fonz. “What? Was it something I said?”
 
Vanessa sighed, “Quit being such a wastoid, Beau.”
 
Holly asked, “Why do you need to know?”
 
The mousy girl spoke in a distant way as her eyes traced the world outside the window.
 
Beau tried to explain his logic to the helpless females.
 
“If I’m being dragged along on some crazy shopping trip, I’d at least like to know a few simple things. Like, is it for a baby boy or a baby girl?”
 
His mom cleared her throat.
 
“It’s for a boy. A sweet little boy.”
 
Beau pushed the smoke away as his mom exhaled. It stung his eyes.
 
“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Vanessa said.
 
“Nope,” Beau coughed, he didn’t care if he was being belligerent. “Why are you guys all together, who do you all know?”
 
Holly snapped, "We all know you."
 
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Beau asked.
 
Oh, man. This deep thinking stuff hurt his brain.
 
Okay. Maybe Holly knew about Christine, because Christine knew about Vanessa, and he was pretty sure Vanessa now knew about Christine. However, no one knew about what happened between him and Holly. That was a secret. A mistake. The mousy girl should know when it was her turn to keep her mouth shut like he told her. Beau clenched his fists until his knuckles popped.
 
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Holly answered when she finally turned his way.
 
The wood paneled station wagon pulled into the large gravel and dirt parking lot. The large and lonely store had more of a warehouse look than a home to retail. It sat like an empty island in the middle of nowhere. It was just a short drive from Lovington, but felt like a more different domain, and had a different feel about the whole thing.
 
A long faded tarp was stretched across the front windows. A mainsail that billowed in the mild breeze that also kicked up a bit of dust. On the tarp was a handwritten message in what he guessed was shoe polish:
 
Welcome to Webber’s
Open at our new location
Now with more influence
Now with more inspiration
 
However, the baby store was far from a ghost town. Dozens of workers in white overalls shuffled boxes around like drones with orders specifically from the queen. There was sawdust all around the door, he could even see the tell-tale signs of new construction from far away.
 
Beau looked around at the chaos. "Is this place even open yet?"
 
"It is by appointment," Holly commented as she opened the car door. She quickly caught onto his reluctance.
 
"What? Are you afraid of going into a baby store? I thought you were some kind of tough guy."
 
Beau shook his head. Stay ahead of this, and don’t let her get to you.
 
"I'm not scared, it's just weird. What kind of bogus baby store needs an appointment to go buy diapers? Don’t babies use them all the time?”
 
“Always on about the diapers,” Christine commented. “As if babies didn’t do anything besides pee and poop. Men are so clueless sometimes, am I right?”
 
“Back off Christine,” Beau cracked. “I’m just trying to make conversation.”
 
Vanessa was already outside of the car.
 
"No need to get all defensive, baby Beau."
 
That was it. They had challenged his masculine superiority, and if they started into this baby nonsense, they would never stop. He had to get ahead of this. Yeah, he was notoriously childish. Yeah, he was outnumbered. Yeah, the girls were acting kind of weird. Yeah, he was running out of yeahs.
 
He'd overpower them with his powerful personality, let the 'Lover Boy' show. Well, not that ‘Lover Boy’. He'd get arrested for showing that off in this — empty parking lot.
 
They were the only car there. No other customers, judging by the size of the building, for a huge department store. There were big moving trucks in the front, but those belonged to the workers. The same could be said about a small row of vans and sedans parked along the backside of the store. How had he just now noticed the empty lot?
 
There was a cloudy feeling in his head. He tried to shake it off. He'd felt this way before, it felt like a hangover, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since wrecking the firebird.
 
No. It reminded him of getting his ‘bell rung’ while playing football. Which was ‘coach speak’ for taking a bad shot to the helmet, which was bad news because his head was in there. A hard tackle could send his brain ricocheting inside his skull, resulting in subtle, temporary brain damage. The world would ring for a few minutes, or longer; and you were supposed to shake it off, not let it bother you, and battle the headache that sometimes lasted for days.
 
That’s what it felt like, confusing, foggy headed, and hard to focus.
 
Beau pulled at the inside handle of the car door, hoping the fresh air would alleviate all of this cloudiness. He pulled at the handle, and the door didn't move. He wiggled his hand to re-grip, and then he tried again. No. He roughly grabbed it with both hands and started violently shaking it back and forth.
 
"You coming or not, Beau?" Holly leaned into the doorway from her side of the car.
 
"It's just this fuc-, I mean this stupid door."
 
He tempered his language for his angry mother, who was already working on her next cigarette outside. That habit was going to be her death, and maybe not soon enough.
 
"You can always come out my side," Holly offered.
 
"NO! I'm going through this. banging. door!"
 
Beau knew he was being irrational, it was all irrational. His head felt hot as he strained against the unrelenting station wagon. He needed to show off his strength and beat this unopenable door, pop it open like a pickle jar for these women. That would get them to leave him alone.
 
Christine waited just outside the car, watching his pathetic attempts through the window before figuring out the hold up, and opening the door from the outside.
 
"That's the problem,” Christine observed. “It looks like the child lock was accidentally engaged. No need to throw a hissy fit, Beau."
 
“It wasn’t a hissy fit,” Beau argued as he stepped outside and flipped his jacket collar.
 
“Throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler, maybe Beau needs a timeout.”
 
Vanessa giggled at her own joke.
 
“Or he could use a spanking,” Christine added.
 
Roll with the punches, Beau. Let them have their laughs, they were laughing with him, and not at him, right? There really wasn’t a difference, it’s what the dweebs told themselves to make themselves feel better about being dweebs. He calmed himself as the group set off towards the store.
 
It wasn’t worth making a scene, he already made a fool of himself with the stupid door, with the stupid child lock. How had that thing been engaged? There hadn’t been a baby in the backseat in almost two decades, and Beau was an only child with no little cousins in the family tree.
 
"You're going to want to behave yourself here," Holly warned as they all made their way across the dirt parking lot. "I've heard some strange stories about Elizabeth Webber. Also known as 'Ma'."
 
"Like what?" Beau hurried to walk even with the smaller girl.
 
"The first being that she's really into old school discipline, one of those grannies that still believes that humiliation is the best teacher."
 
Holly actually sounded close to admiring this woman, Beau made it a point to steer clear of someone like she was describing.
 
Mrs. Taylor whispered, "Maybe she can be the one to fix Beau."
 
"What was that, mom?" Beau turned on his mother. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?"
 
She didn't have to answer.
 
He didn’t want to be the one to admit that his mom was right. There was something wrong with him. A dark part of him that did something wrong, that couldn't handle how wrong he went, and Beau knew it. That mistake with that mousy girl. Forever wiping the smile off her face every time she saw him. Being the 'Lover Boy' had its drawbacks. He couldn't hide behind the ultra-confident persona when Holly was around.
 
Why was she even here?
 
Why was he even here?
 
He could just walk away, but he found his feet leading him to the store instead of the fledgling sunset.
 
“And the second?” Beau’s curiosity was getting the better of him.
 
“About ‘Ma’ Webber?” Holly pretended to be surprised. “Well, let’s just say if you act like a child, she'll treat you like one. So try to act your age for once.”
 
Vanessa giggled.
 
“Lay off the threatening, Holly. He’ll find out soon enough.”
 
Beau asked, “Find out what?”
 
“About the true meaning of diaper discipline,” Christine finished the conversation. Then she glared at Beau.
 
He stopped with his mouth open, the girls didn’t really mean what they were saying. This had to be a prank, a way to mess with his head. And it was working.
 
The girls continued inside while Beau hung around in the parking lot, going over the building one last time before joining them.
 
The workers that hustled around him didn’t talk as they removed products from the backs of a pair of large white trucks, sometimes one at a time, for bigger things they worked in twos.
 
He had to move to the side as two of the gruff men in faded white overalls and white hats pulled a huge car seat from the store, heading past him towards the parking lot.
 
Beau stopped to watch the men struggle with big plastic safety-chair.
 
Then he finally realized what the workers reminded him of, Oompa-Loompas. These guys were like a cross-breed between a biker gang and Oompa-Loompas. Except the little orange fellas sang as they worked, these guys only wore a scowl for their minimum wage.
 
Still, the size of that carseat was something he couldn't get over. It looked like it could sit an adult, the various straps and buckles seemed thicker as well. It reminded him of a strait jacket, and it gave him the Heebie-jeebies.
 
"Dude, did you guys catch the size of that carseat?"
 
No one heard him. The girls were already inside, meeting Miss Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Webber, collecting a shopping list, and deciding how to best split the load.
 
They had to get ready for a baby shower tonight.

[direking]

Lover Boy 1988 Part 2: Girls Just Want to Have Fun
 
Of course no one else noticed the car seat because the girls were already inside.
 
The busy workers didn't seem to care that either. They didn't seem to care anything at all, almost as if the world didn't exist beyond their menial tasks. Being a high school football star and all, Beau wasn’t used to being ignored. It was awkward, and it needed fixing.
 
He picked up the pace, breaking into a jog as he went through the double doors.
 
The music struck him first.
 
He'd expected some kind of lame muzak, the boring jazz stuff that played in elevators or dentist's offices. This was different. As soon as he broke the plane of the door, the overhead speakers crackled to life and fell into a jangly rhythm.
 
It was ‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’. A hit song that every girl knew and loved. It brought a smile to his face.
 
Tiny megaphones attached to the walls and ceilings pumped in music from a hidden stereo. House drums and synthesizers bounced and echoed across the store, the music hit the far walls and circled the long lines of shelves that were home for hundreds of cardboard boxes.
 
This place was huge, much bigger on the inside than outside. The size of a small mall without any of the other trappings of a good time. It was a newly finished construction, a bare bones warehouse with exposed steel beams, snaking shiny ductwork, and caged lights overhead.
 
Cyndi Lauper kicked into gear.

I come home in the morning light
My mother says when you gonna live your life right
Oh mother dear we're not the fortunate ones
And girls they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun
 
Sounds of sliding notes on an electric organ highlighted the carnival-like atmosphere. The room was taken over by the sounds of modern pop. Up and down a row of three cashiers, attractive girls his age bobbed to the beat. All smiles and glee.
 
Babies were a Cupid's arrow to a girl's heart.
 
He had to admit to himself that the cashiers were somewhat of cuties themselves, possibly virgin territory to explore, and maybe he should let out the old ‘Lover Boy’ and stake a claim by planting a flag.
 
Beau slicked his hair back with both hands, producing a comb from his back pocket as swiftly as he returned it to his jeans.
 
Maybe this ‘Ma’ Webber's place wasn't going to be such a drag after all.

The beat was infectious, the words were on target; girls just wanna have fun. So did Beau. He slid his Converses across the beige tile floor, striking his groove in time with the beat, and he felt the oncoming of that 'Lover Boy’, the one who could woo a girl with even a hint of a smile.
 
Confidence. He needed that confidence.
 
He twisted and turned his hips. All eyes were on him, time to shine and let it all hang out, he lived to show off. If he wasn't wearing his Guess jeans, he would've gone for the splits, instead Beau twirled himself around and started into a backwards shuffle, his eyes still on the three cashiers. They remained in their places, the same ole smiles on their faces.
 
He kept reversing until he spun around a final time to come face to face with some old lady.
 
This was Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Webber. And she was nothing like he had expected.
 
He pictured some old granny with one foot in the grave, or stuck in a wheelchair quaking under her favorite quilt, or her big bottom planted in a rocking chair keeping her mind busy with knitting needles and yarn.
 
This woman was something else.
 
She had thick glasses, thicker forearms, and a thick whisk of white hair curled about her squarish head like cotton candy. She was that thick. Put a helmet and shoulder pads on her beefy frame, and you’d have a linebacker, not a grandma.
 
Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Webber did not wear a smock like the other girls. She wore a dress that was borderline old fashioned, strictly navy colored with lacy white collar, and was probably sewn by hand. Her face was weathered and wrinkled, but she hardly looked tired. Quite the opposite. Miss Webber scowled like she meant it, and had put stop to his dancing right in his tracks. 
 
Beau frowned as looked her over from head to toe. His eyes lingering at the wooden paddle tied to her belt. It instantly reminded him of Holly’s warning outside.
 
Questions started popping in his head.
 
Why did that thing have holes drilled into the paddle part?
 
And why did it look so worn?
 
How many butts had it smacked?
 
Would she really pop him into a diaper?
 
He involuntarily clenched his butt at each tiny incoherent thought.
 
The two stared each other down, and Beau played the part of a teenage tough guy, while the Golden Girl settled into the role of a brick wall. The old broad was hardly budging, but she didn’t press him as the backing down type.
 
The phone rings in the middle of the night
My father yells what you gonna do with your life
Oh daddy dear you know you're still number one
But girls they want to have fun   
 
Beau cleared his throat.
 
He stammered, "Do you know where my mom went?"
 
Elizabeth Webber refused to answer his question, or spare him from her piercing glare.
 
"I have my eyes on you, and if you take one step out of line, you'll regret it."
 
Beau already regretted the things he hadn’t even done yet.
 
His mom came to his rescue, appearing from behind Miss Webber, pulling free a cigarette from her mouth and expelling exhaust.
 
"This one belongs to me," Mrs. Taylor explained as she blew smoke. “He’s the one I told you about.”
 
"I could tell he was a troublemaker at first sight, I'm glad you brought him here. We have ways of dealing with troublemakers.”
 
Miss Webber fingered the paddle at her hip, like she was preparing to quick-draw it on his ass.
 
He shook it off, she only scared him a little. A little too much. Beau found himself taking a couple of steps away for safety’s sake. The desire to just ‘book it’ was hard to ignore, like the overwhelming loud music. It was like a disco in here, a disco with diapers.
 
Beau asked, "Where are the other girls?"
 
"I’m sure you can find them somewhere around the store,” Miss Webber chuckled. “They’ve got quite the shopping list, why don’t you help them pick some things out?”
 
The old matron spoke to him like he was a child, with slow moving words, stretched out for better understanding. Baby food for his brain, and he just gobbled them up.
 
However, it wasn’t her words that made him comply, something else about the way she talked made him want to just do what he was told. It was like when coach called a play, you just broke the huddle and followed his direction.
 
Beau spotted Vanessa a decent distance away hanging around an empty shopping cart, deeply focused on the list in her hands. It appeared that Holly and Christine had already ventured deeper into the maze of tall shelves.
 
He snuck up behind Vanessa and leaned in for a kiss.
 
She rebuffed him.
 
“Quit bothering me, I’m trying to focus on this list.”
 
“Well, maybe I can help,” Beau offered.
 
“Really, Beau?”
 
Vanessa stopped staring at the notepad and raked her other hand through her almost crunchy blonde hair. Mmm, here comes a fresh dose of that condescension.
 
She asked, “What can you possibly know about babies?”
 
Beau grinned. This was a slow moving pitch over home plate, and the ‘Lover Boy’ was a home run hitter.
 
“I know all about making them,” Beau joked, “maybe we can find a spot, and I can teach you a thing or two.”
 
Vanessa growled at her ridiculously stupid Lothario, and prepared a foot to stomp his toes, or to kick him in the shins, or maybe somewhere a bit more personal.
 
She growled, “You’re such a dweeb, Beau.”
 
“You’re the one dating me.” Beau shrugged.
 
“Keep it up, find out how long we’ll last,” Vanessa said, then got flustered. “Let’s just focus on the list.”
 
Yeah, let’s focus on the list. Beau didn’t want to put together what Vanessa was hinting at. Was she planning on breaking up with him? He didn’t like the thought. It hurt.
 
He rubbed his hands together. “Where do we start?”
 
“Well, we need diapers size 33, pacifiers, bottles and bibs XXL, toys, toys, and more toys. Also, a stroller. I think your mom is taking care of the crib, and we already have a car seat."
 
"I saw the hugest car seat on the way inside," Beau commented.
 
Vanessa only nodded and tapped the notepad with her pen. She wasn’t paying him any attention, time to change that.
 
Beau quickly scanned the area and found a large plastic bin full of pacifiers a few feet away. He left Vanessa to her stupid list, he'd actually go get things done. That'll show her who was the more childish of the two. Beau was a problem solver, and not a finicky, hair tugging condescension machine.
 
The pile of pacifiers practically spilled over, there had to be hundreds, if not a thousand baby soothers in there. Beau dug into pacifier mountain with both hands, pulling free a pair of blue ones with yellow plastic bulbs. Then he got an idea. Beau loved his ideas.
 
He cupped a pair of pacifiers in his hands, and made sure their little plastic fake nipples poked through his fingers. Beau brought the backs of his curved hands to his face, the hands transformed into a pair of boobs and the fake plastic nipples were still fake plastic nipples.
 
“Hey, Vanessa.” Beau broke into a grin. “Does this remind you of anything?”
 
This was when the ‘Lover Boy’ proceeded to motorboat his own ‘hand-boobs’ with an unapologetic gusto. Vanessa could only watch as he licked and flicked his tongue around the pacifier bulbs. Real bad porno level stuff.
 
“Great job, Beau. Really mature.” Her hand ran through her hair.
 
Beau felt pleased with himself. It was funny. Vanessa wasn’t laughing, but it was still funny. He was about to drop the pacis back into the pile when he heard a voice boom from behind him.
 
“Excuse me, young man. Were you about to return those pacifiers after you had them in your mouth?”
 
The booming voice belonged to none other than ‘Ma’ Webber. His goose was officially cooked, how would he play this? He slowly turned to see that it was actually three that caught him in the act: Miss Webber, his mom, and some quirky worker in a pink apron.
 
According to her name tag, the new addition’s name was Corrie Anne. She had a pleasant face, dimpled cheeks, and blonde hair spun into thick braids.
 
Miss Webber raised an eyebrow.
 
“Well?”
 
Beau felt a blush creep up his neck, as cardinal red as his football jersey. His usual confidence waned, his body went loose and limp, especially his shoulders which hung lower and lower as the shame settled.
 
“I’m just joking around, you know?”
 
“No, I don’t.” Miss Webber made a motion towards her underling in the pink apron.
 
“Yes, Miss Webber.” Corrie Anne approached while tugging at a large pocket in her apron.
 
“Beau, I take it?” ‘Ma’ Webber continued as she received a pair of large baby mittens from Corrie Anne. “I am a believer in choices. Now, you’ve already made your first bad choice, running your tongue all over these binkies like they were a pair of breasts.”
 
He nodded. Awesome choice. However, he had to play nice and do something about his shit eating grin. Or that Webber lady would wipe it off his face with a wooden paddle.
 
Miss Webber asked, "You like putting your mouth on breasts?"
 
Beau nodded for some reason, it was hard to bury that truth and wasn’t worth the lie.
 
"You know who else likes breasts?" Miss Webber asked.
 
Every man in existence.
 
No, she wouldn’t accept that as an answer, the old maid wanted something else, and it only took a second to find it, because it was all around him.
 
"Um. Babies."
 
"Are you a baby, Beau?"
 
"Of course not!" He defended his maturity in front of a jury of four women, two of them were his age; but the worker and the girlfriend wanted as little to do with him as possible. "That's not funny, I am certainly not one of those."
 
She asked, "Then why are you acting like one?"
 
“I don’t think he can help himself, Miss Webber.” Vanessa glared at him, what turncoat she turned out to be.
 
“They normally can’t,” Miss Webber added, “that’s why they come to me.”
 
Beau crossed his arms, these girls couldn’t be serious.
 
"Come on, I'm not acting like a baby. I was just joking, you know?"
 
Miss Webber tapped the big baby mittens in her hand.
 
"I think we've already gone over your childish sense of humor, but allow me to offer a punch line."
 
He gave the mittens a closer look, they were huge and white, but red at the wrist. They were fluffy and didn’t have spots for fingers. There were also little footballs all over them, like spots on a jaguar, or polka dots on a polka dot shirt. Of all things, why footballs?
 
"Beau, you've got a choice to make, you either have what's in your hands, or mine."
 
Did she mean the pacifiers? Or the mittens?
 
She was being serious. He didn't have to ask, he wanted to, but he knew that would only piss her off even more. Even the 'Lover Boy' was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. He looked down at the pacifiers in his guilty hands. Beau was also smart enough to know that she meant that the pacifier would go in his mouth. Which would be incredibly embarrassing, but the same could be said about the mittens. They were huge, and fluffy.
 
Was there any other alternative?
 
His eyes darted to paddle at her waist then at her massive forearms. No, thank you.
 
"The mittens," Beau uttered. "I'll wear the mittens."
 
"That's why I brought them," Miss Webber said. "Now put those pacifiers in the cart, they're yours now."
 
He did what he was told. Just being around her did that to him. Beau was the genie, and she was the one that got the wishes.
 
Meanwhile, his mom had once again failed to intervene on his behalf. Did he catch a hint of smile as ‘Ma’ approached him with the baby mittens?
 
Miss Webber roughly grabbed his arm. Beau fought the urge to fight back, he'd made his bed, he'd have to lie in it. The evil woman had home field advantage, he'd have to put up with her BS while he was here, then it'd be over. Maybe Beau could play it off like he did lounging on the car.
 
The mittens were tight at the wrist, and it was like he didn’t have fingers at all. Beau wanted to clap his mitten-y hands together and bark like a seal, but he’d have to do that joke later, the shame was too busy burning his skin like a sunburn.
 
“There we go,” Miss Webber announced. “Now his little hands won’t get him into any more trouble.”
 
The deed was done. The mittens weren’t all bad. They were just gloves, fluffy and infantile, the kind that babies wore so they wouldn’t scratch their eyes out. He’d find a way to make them cool.
 
As the two older women walked away talking about whatever they were talking about. He balled his fists under the mittens, and wondered how he’d be able to take them off, or just wear them until they left this place.
 
The worker just watched him. Curiously.

She was just so dang bubbly. “My name is Corrie Anne, and I love babies.”

Beau gave her a discerning look.
 
“Well, you’re certainly working at the right place. I’m sure you get a lot of babies coming through those doors. Now, if you could just —“
 
“No. You’re the first. And I’m super excited.”
 
Beau shook his head, he was in the midst of a real mix-up. He held his mittens up to his face, they were pretty embarrassing, but it beat the heck out of sucking a pacifier. Or getting paddled like a petulant brat.
 
“No. No. We don’t have any babies here.”
 
He felt compelled to spell it out like she was a little slow. Probably because she was a little slow.
 
Corrie Anne frowned. “Not yet?”
 
“No, not yet.” Beau confirmed with a super friendly, but mildly annoyed smile. “Now off you go doing something important, like, like …”
 
“Checking in on the baby?” Her smile returned, it was somewhat unnerving on a happy face.
 
Beau nodded.
 
“Yes, you make sure to do that, you don’t want any lost babies around here. You know how they go wandering off, and the next thing you know, they’re on the ass side of a milk carton.”
 
“Okie-dokie,” Corrie Anne answered with her ever present creepy grin.
 
Time to jet. Vanessa was still pouring over that list, her betrayal still fresh on his mind. Beau mimicked her voice in his head, ‘he can’t help it, Miss Webber’. He didn’t want to see her anyways, or his mom, or ‘Ma’ Webber. Or Corrie Anne. He’d go off and wander alone. Great idea.
 
He walked off into the maze, all by himself.
 
As he ventured further into the store the music gained an odd reverb effect, an extra unintended echo that blended verses together, made the deafening beats overlap, like hearing two of the same song twice.
 
It was still blasting ‘Girls just want to have fun’. Just differently.
 
I come home drunk in the morning light
My mother says when you gonna live your life right
Oh mother dear I’m still your baby son
And girls they want to have fun
Oh girls just want to have fun
 
The sound effect was doing funny things with the words, making them sound all different and distorted. It made him feel dizzy. The room was spinning, not Beau. He was on the straight and narrow, walking straight into — Holly.
 
Her oversized dress looked so childish, giving her the appearance of a life size doll, just without the price tag hanging from her skirt. Fluffy at the shoulders, tighter at the waist but the flaring skirt hung long and low.
 
Holly ran her hands softly across a large padded changing table loaded onto a rolling wooden pallet on wheels. The brunette softly hummed along to the discordant pop melody.
 
She was finally alone. Like before. No! Not like before! He only wanted to talk to her.
 
Beau knew if he had the chance to explain himself, they could both get past this, maybe things would turn out alright. Holly was smart and rational, she’d see things through his point of view.
 
Holly wanted it, even if she didn’t say so.
 
Some boys take a beautiful girl
And hide her away from the rest of the world
I want to be the one to walk in the sun
Oh girls, they wanna have fun
Oh girls just wanna have
 
Beau gathered his wits. This made him so nervous. He reached for his comb. Unfortunately, his mittens couldn’t fit into his back jeans pocket.
 
No matter. Time to man-up, get ahead of the oncoming hurricane, admit his mistake and write it off as miscommunication. Beau softly approached her from behind and lightly pressed a hand onto her shoulder.
 
Holly winced and pulled away.
 
“Wha- what do you want?”
 
Beau backed off. He didn’t mean to scare her, but it was best to get straight to business. However, she struck first.
 
“Nice mittens, Beau.” Holly tsked him with so much glee. “I warned you about messing up, but it’s no big deal, there’s probably a discount on some matching booties.”
 
She giggled at his expense. He ignored her.
 
“Holly, we got to talk about what happened on Sunday.”
 
The mousy girl grimaced as if she was wounded by him a second time. Beau could still fix this, it wasn’t too far down the road to take a U-turn. He wanted things to go back to normal. Stop the nightmares. He wanted it for Holly as well. This wasn’t all about him.
 
“What is there to talk about, Beau? Am I just another one of your conquests to brag about to your friends?”
 
“No, it’s not like that,” Beau explained as he shook his head. “I’m not a bad guy, and only a loser brags to his friends about stuff like that.”
 
Holly spat, “I’m sure you're a real class act.”
 
Beau wrapped a mitten around her wrist, but she was able to pull it away. His fingers made a snapping sound as she broke from his grip. How was she suddenly so strong? It actually hurt his hand, and he shook at his side. Holly clutched her own chest with balled-fists. There were hints of tears in her hazel eyes, but now they looked so red, so, so red.
 
One could get lost in eyes like that, as lost as he was in this stupid baby store, as lost as this stupid conversation. And that stupid music only seemed to get louder, only adding to his confusion.
 
Some boys take a beautiful girl
And cover her mouth so she can’t say no
 
The muzak stuttered as the record skipped, Beau clenched his fists against his betraying ears. The fluffy white mittens barely muffled the accusing lyrics.
 
The music needed to stop making him feel guilty.
 
He was hearing things, that was it, that really wasn’t part of the song. He’d heard that song before, and it had nothing to do with what happened between him and Holly. No, what he did to Holly. It was just a side effect from the stress, the lack of sleep due to the guilt ridden nightmares. Or he was legitly wigging out.
 
Holly waited for him to leave, trying to prod him away without a word. But she broke.
 
“Is there anything more you’ll like to say to me?”
 
He said, “Listen, it wasn’t my fault —“
 
Holly looked beside herself. He had managed to say the wrong magic words.
 
“Not your fault!”
 
Beau screamed, “I said ‘Listen’!”
 
She immediately quieted, but was now even more forlorn than before. This was heading the wrong direction, on a one way road.
 
But Beau could fix this, he had to fix what was broken. What if she called the cops or something? The police wouldn’t believe a single word from her dorky mouth; he was the star quarterback, the ‘Lover Boy’, and she was some nameless geek. The common type of girl worth a dime a dozen at Lovington High. Still, she deserved an explanation.
 
“It wasn’t my fault,” Beau repeated with a hushed and harsh tone. “I was up all night drinking, hungover as shit, and I had just totaled the firebird. Then my parents were on my ass all morning, and I wasn’t feeling like myself. So we ate lunch, you were the waitress, and when I saw you smile at me, I thought you wanted to get with me. So I got up from the table — and you know.”
 
“Say what you did to me, Beau.”
 
Her face was turning red, and she had a weird clicking noise from her jaw. Maybe it was from her braces.
 
“It wasn’t that. No! It wasn’t that, I swear. It was just miscommunication, I thought that you wanted it, so I gave it to you.”
 
“Typical..”
 
Holly faded as she turned away.
 
“Typical? Typical? You want me to just say ‘sorry?’”
 
A well-stoked fire lit inside of him, a pent up flame that expelled his anger from his mouth. All of that guilt was wrapped up in that anger, until he couldn’t tell the difference anymore. The hatred Beau reserved for himself transformed into hatred for this dumb fucking girl in front of him.
 
Holly added with her back now turned. “An apology would be a good start.”
 
“I’m sorry, Holly.”
 
“Sorry for what?”
 
The heat was too much to keep inside, he released it like a backdraft, and it exploded from his mouth, it could no longer be contained.
 
“I’m sorry — I’m sorry that you didn’t enjoy it, you nerdy bitch. You should be thankful I chose you, baby. Count yourself lucky that I took a chance. Not everything is cheesy romance, life isn’t a fairy tale, and all of that dumb princesses and rainbow shit is stupid.”
 
The hate felt good to get out, the words felt right and justified. He was practically yelling at himself at this point. Who was she to stand against the ‘Lover Boy’?
 
Then reality struck like a clock at midnight.
 
At once, he realized what he’d done. He had somehow managed to make things worse. That chest crushing guilt pressed against his lungs and it suddenly felt hard to take a full breath.
 
Beau expected Holly to get scared again, maybe she would cry or something. His lack of apology only seemed to harden her resolve.
 
Little Miss Mousy became calm, cool, and collected. Straightening her dress with both palms, while holding her head so high that her glasses slid closer to her face. She still spoke nasally, she was still so much smaller, but Holly somehow gained an upper hand on him, and he never saw it coming.
 
“I’m not sorry, Beau. I enjoyed our little conversation, but I’m afraid that there’s so much to do in so little time. Toddle off, now.”
 
The silence lingered. And lingered.
 
“And try not to get lost,” she added.
 
Beau found himself walking away without fully understanding why.

[Zylo1893]

Any update soon? I love your work.

[direking]

6 hours ago, Zylo1893 said:

Any update soon? I love your work.

Thanks for the compliment.

As for this story, its shelved for the time being. I was hoping to have it finished before last Halloween, and I rushed towards that self-made deadline. While doing so I made a few bad judgement calls with the story, and I didn't feel comfortable with certain elements that made Beau a Villain instead of a Jerk. Mainly the assault that takes place pre-story, it ruins the fun, so it needs to be cut out.

I thought more than once about pulling it down, but I eventually decided against it.

Long story short, I will have 'Lover Boy' finished in October with many elements changed, I plan on 'toning down' Beau.

I'm currently writing a belated Xmas story in the Diaper Dimension called 'The Present(s)'. I also plan on posting my first story I ever wrote, from the summer of 2020 called 'A Little Life Lesson'; it's a Diaper Dimension story best described Personalias' Unfair meets 'Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind'. It's not very good, but it's all done, and I'm going to make very few changes. It's like a time capsule for my bad writing.

If you're not into the Diaper Dimension stories, I've started a story called 'The Dommy Mommy Nextdoor'. A realistic story about an OnlyFans Mommy Model moving next door to a teenage boy with hidden urges. It explores 'shadow selves' and 'keeping up appearances'. But that's still on the drawing board, so it may be something for this summer since it takes place in summer. 

I wrote a few chapters for Dommy Mommy in November when I put down this story.

As far as Lovington stories, I plan on writing a short shindig about Charity babysitting Jeremy. Maybe that will show up this spring. Or other Lovington stories that I've brainstormed.

The problem is I write slow, and it just doesn't feel right if I try to hurry. Deadlines and I don't get along. So I appreciate your interest in this story, and I'm still writing, just not on this one right now. Thanks for understanding.

 

[Zylo1893]

No worries at all mate was just curious. No offense to you at all or anything, but never been into dimension stories. Your last story though had to be one of the best I've ever seen, so always looking forward to what you put out. Take your time and always do what feels right. 

[D503]

I really hope we get to see more of this one!

[direking]

15 hours ago, D503 said:

I really hope we get to see more of this one!

Here's the deal.

I put it aside for reasons mentioned above.

That being said, since I was back to writing about Lovington, I took another look at Chapter 3. It's mostly done, but I'm going to split it into two parts. I'll post both next week.

But as far as chapter 4... that's going to take more work. And might not be high on my priorities right now.

Lovington stories are a mixed bag. They're weird. This one's weird, too. Sometimes that turns off readers. I'm having a hard time gauging the interest in this little ABDL twilight zone. I like writing in this setting, but if no one likes reading about it, I'm going to want to write about other things. I know it comes off as 'pouty', but there's limited bandwidth as an amateur writer, and I'd like to write things to readers want to read.

So, thank you for your interest. Same with Zylo. Same for anyone else who hasn't commented.

[kerry]

I guess I should comment then. I found the original Lovington Effect story to be loads of fun in many ways...both expected and un. I'm happy to go there for another round!

[D503]

No worries, I'm sure there are tonnes of lurkers that love the premise.

I love it - I need a "I love Lovington" shirt ?

[dmavn]

I’m one of those lurkers as well. sometimes I come to DD every day if there is a story I really like, other times I can be away for weeks. When I come back I only look at stories within the first 2 or 3 pages of the forum. Totally missed this and the previous story you wrote which i will search for and read since I liked this one.

[direking]

Sorry about my last comment - It didn't come off right.

There's just an unlimited amount of stories in my head, and I have to work my way through them with limited time and limited talent. I'd like nothing more to be able to write more, and try to tackle them all, but it's just not possible. Honestly, I think I'm burning myself out. I've been writing almost daily for the past 2 years. A lot of stories and ideas that have never been posted, some chapters deep and a couple mostly finished. Last week, and over the weekend, I was literally working on three different chapter 3's. And when I get them done, I can work on three different chapter 4's. A smarter person would've solved this problem by now, but here I am.

The truth is, I'm going to have to re-prioritize what I write, and how I write. None of which is important for you guys, but it's worth mentioning.

But what is important to say:

I do appreciate the interest.

And thanks for reading.

................

1988 pt 3: Every Breath You Take
 
Somehow, Beau had managed to get lost.
 
All of the aisles seemingly had no end, fading away into the horizon with no vanishing point, with only another aisle awaiting at the end of each product-filled tunnel. The tall shelves full of boxes almost reached the high ceiling, turning the skinny walking spaces into tiny corridors, inflicting a claustrophobic sensation that only added to the confusion.
 
The good news was that the muzak had changed into something soft and easily filed away in the background. Nothing as grating and grinding as ‘Girls Just Want to have Fun’.
 
Beau shouldn’t have said what he did to Holly. She was just trying to work out what happened in her own way. Just like him. The regret squatted in his belly, its presence turning somersaults in his stomach.
 
He started one way before turning the other direction.
 
Retracing his steps was turning out to be more difficult than he expected, but this time it couldn’t be blamed on brain-blasting carnival pop music. Something else caused all of the cloudiness in his head, left him grasping for straws because the milkshake wasn’t thick enough for a spoon.
 
He had finally edged the end of the corridor to come face to face with another worker in a pink apron.

This one was a cute redhead who was much shorter than him; a pixie of a girl with short hair and no curves, and gave him serious girl next door vibes.
 
Wake up, ‘Lover Boy’, time to do your thing.
 
A confident smirk came first, then he cocked his head to the side. He let her know that he was good at his craft with precise body language.
 
Beau perfectly delivered his well-practiced line: “So, when are you getting off?”
 
It didn’t seem to work. The red head appeared puzzled for a moment, before bringing a hand up to his face. Beau should have informed her of his 'look and no touch policy', but it was all happening too fast for him to react.
 
“Look at you, cutie.” She grabbed ahold of his face, pinching his face fat.“Those are the most precious little cheeks. You're such a goochie-goo, a baby-wabie."

The ‘Lover Boy’ had that affect on women. Sometimes they dropped their panties, sometimes they lost their minds. However, crazy was crazy, and this girl was acting a little loco for the old poke-o.
 
“F-ing A, man.” Beau pulled back, rubbing a sore cheek. “Try to warn a guy before you pull out the pliers.”

Her only response was a blank stare that shot through him, as if he were a window, and she could see what happened between him and Holly just a few days ago. He just couldn’t get that out of his mind. The shame of his actions made Beau squirm. His knees knocked and face clenched, the confidence vanished at the same time as his smirk.
 
“Do you need to go potty?" She poked him square in the belly, and he shifted away. "Someone’s got ants in the pants. We don't want a little X on your potty chart.”

“No, I don’t need to go ‘potty’," Beau said with a grimace. "What’s your damage?”
 
Again. No answer. She just smiled back. Like a painful, too big smile that probably hurt the teeth and cheeks. Then batted her lifeless, somehow radiant eyes at him. It was some sort of social cue, telling him to say something clever. Beau was an expert at telling girls what they wanted to hear. Except when it came time to say ‘sorry’.
 
“Do you know where I can find my mom? We had some kind of appointment or something, and guess what? I’m an idiot that got lost in this big ass place.”
 
The redhead pondered the thought for a moment.
 
“That’s it. Do you miss your mommy, baby?”
 
“No, I don’t miss my mommy,” snapped Beau before leaning over to read her name tag. “Listen, Tracy. If you’re not going to be helpful, the least you could do is not waste my time.”
 
"Waste your time?" Tracy giggled at him. "You have forever, baby. There's all the time in the world in a forever."
 
"Yeah, cool." Beau made sure to back a few steps from 'Miss Forever'. "I imagine forever being a very long time."
 
He softly slipped out of the girl’s sight, then found his closest exit and stormed away. There was a new strategy to try to navigate this place. He’d stick to one random direction until he hit a wall or a familiar face. Whichever came first.
 
Tracy called out from behind him.
 
“Bye-bye, baby. I think I saw one of your friends looking at the diapers. We got a lot of new disposables for the sweetest baby bottoms. You should check them out, you may find a design that you like.”
 
“Yeah, I’ll get right on it,” Beau muttered under his breath. “As if.”
 
‘Ma’ Webbers’ baby store had to be a half-way house between an insane asylum and the world outside, because that girl was 'Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs'. Tracy might have been a total whack job in the head, but at least she knew her way around this baby store, that ability seemed to have left him the moment he waltzed inside. Seriously, how big was this place? It didn't seem that big outside. It looked normal. Well, normal for Lovington.
 
Just when he thought things were going his way, or a way, because he was so lost — the disconcerting muzak played again.
 
This time it was the Police with their hit “Every Breath you Take”.
 
The tapping sounds of muted guitar had the same disturbing reverb effect as before. The music came from everywhere, the walls, the floors — the inside of his head.

It wasn’t something to enjoy, at least not for Beau. The noise was layered in such a way that it grabbed at him with zombie hands, peeling away his mind through his ears. There was a guilt associated with every note, a sad soundtrack to a painful moment.
 
A long time ago, when Beau had first heard the song with its mellow heartbeat, slow moving guitar, and forlorn vocals, he thought it was a love song. Most people did. However, it wasn’t a love song. It sounded sweet and intimate, but it was all about obsession. Stalking. Being followed. Being watched.
 
Beau quickly turned to see Corrie Anne further down the aisle, pretending to organize a row of plastic baby bottles, her watchful eyes shooting his way to see if he was still watching her watching him.
 
Every breath you take
And every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
 
He tried talking to himself to keep his mind right. “Diapers, diapers. Looking for diapers.”
 
Beau kept his eyes to the ceiling hoping that there would be overhead aisle signs like any normal store, anything to help make sense of this place. Nope. Still, he stared at the empty ceiling aisle by aisle until he bumped into something.
 
Right in the middle of the lane, where it absolutely didn’t belong, sat a lone giant crib.
 
This baby bed was a bit larger than a twin size mattress, its wood cribbing freshly painted white, and inside were folded bed sheets still wrapped in plastic. The bed sheets featured little babies playing football, with the tiniest of bodies and smiles, some had little strings of hair, the girls had bows, but the boys were out of luck. They all wore big, puffy diapers and nothing else. But that was okay, they were babies. Their diapers were meant to be on display.
 
Beau stayed there awhile. How long? He didn't know. He also didn’t know why he just stood there when he had other places to be.
 
The football player inside of him, or basically all of him, remained mesmerized by the printed gridiron on crib blanket. Fascinated by the baby characters that frolicked up and down the football field without a care in the world. He remembered that feeling, it was his life before Sunday.

That day was such a bad day. How could one day ruin everything? His chest tightened when he thought about that firebird that he'd never drive again. The way he'd never look himself the same in the mirror. He’d done and proper fucked things up. FUBAR. His life was beyond all recognition, but it was more than that, an internal pain coming from an aching conscience.
 
He tapped his mittens on the wooden crib as the music played.
 
Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I'll be watching you
 
A cold pinprick dug into the back of his neck, that awful feeling of being followed. Beau spun around to find Tracy, the nutty pixie redhead from moments before. And she stood awfully close for a shopping attendant, just a few uncomfortable feet from him.
 
Tracy asked, “Do you like your crib?”
 
Beau pointed to himself, surely she was talking to someone else behind them, or maybe she was hallucinating. That's why her eyes looked they did, LSD didn't just die off in the sixties.
 
He answered, “Excuse me, my crib?”
 
“Yes, it's all yours!” The pixie-girl clapped her hands together.
 
She was so freaking creepy.
 
He waited a moment to see if the worker was planning on elaborating. However, she was one of those Venus flytrap kind of girls, an unmoving houseplant until poked to life. Beau didn’t need anymore of her crap, so he let his teenage sarcasm out to play.
 
“Yeah, it’s the best. Love the little footballs.” Beau anxiously rubbed the mittens down his designer jeans.
 
“That’s great because your mom picked it out herself,” Tracy sounded beyond pleased.
 
He had just figured it out, he wanted to slap a mitten to his forehead for being such an airhead. The redhead meant the crib his mom bought for the baby shower. He originally thought she meant ‘his’ crib. Glad he got past that misunderstanding without embarrassing himself. Beau wasn't in the market for cribs, he'd grown out of them seventeen years ago.
 
“Well, I’m sure that the little guy is going to love sleeping in this huge bed." He pointed towards the opposite end of the store. "Which way to those diapers again?”
 
“Just keep doing what you're doing, Beau. It's inevitable." The redhead smiled that awful smile again.
 
Beau returned a smirk before leaving her in the dust. He wanted to get space from that girl, he couldn’t get over the fact that every move he made was being watched, feeling followed, stalking and harassed by the workers of this freaking place.
 
Wait a sec. That Tracy-girl called him 'Beau'. He didn't remember ever telling her his name. That wasn't right -- that was serial killer kind of stuff. Maybe she knew about him from the newspapers. They did cover his games, keep track of his stats, praised his conquests on the football field. All of which fueled his conquests off the football field, but that was the sport the 'Lover Boy' played. Still, it bothered him more than it should.
 
It was this place. No, no.
 
It was these mittens that made his hands sweat. No. Not that either.
 
No. It was that music again, everything could be blamed on this muzak. It did things to him, made him feel cloudy, like it ‘rung his bell’.
 
Beau quickened his pace, keeping his eyes peeled for any more strangeness coming his way. Also, there was that diaper aisle that seemed to always be out of reach. Tracy the Cray-Cee seemed to indicate it was this direction. How the hell was Beau having trouble finding diapers in a baby store? Babies were all about diapers.
 
It was all so stupid, he picked up the pace, from a mall walk into slow jog.

He quickly edged another corner and slammed right into Corrie Anne.

The two of them toppled to the floor, sending the basket of plastic baby bottles scattering about like bowling pins from the hardest strike thrown in the world.

Beau scrambled to his feet.
 
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.."
 
“It’s nothing, baby.” Corrie Anne said, as she picked herself up and brushed off her pink apron. “We just have to watch where we're walking. Especially on those wibble-wobble feet."
 
He didn't pay much attention to her words, as he hurried to pick up the bottles before they rolled away. The mittens proved to make that task more difficult, but he was able to grab them one at a time if he cradled them just right in his palms. His fine motor skills were definitely taking a hit while wearing these big mitts.

Beau fought the oncoming blush.
 
"I'm just thankful that they're not glass, right?"

This whole thing was awfully embarrassing, she was there when they put these mittens on his hands. Then she was the one to see him act like a klutz. He had to repair his image, his pride demanded it.

“This place is something else, man. How do you guys get around without getting lost?”

“It’s easy,” answered Corrie Anne. “You’ll always find what you’re looking for at ‘Ma’ Webbers.”

Beau cracked, “Besides diapers.”
 
"We have plenty of those. You just weren’t looking in the right places. It’s been awhile since you needed to be guided along. There are so many things that have changed since you were last a baby, so many new things to figure out."
 
"I guess I'll have learn them one day," Beau said as he held the last of the fallen bottles.
 
Corrie Anne nodded. "Sooner, rather than later."
 
Beau studied the baby bottle in his padded hands. A plastic cylinder with small pigskin footballs bouncing up and down the sides.

He smirked.
 
"Look, more footballs." Beau held it up for her to see.
 
Corrie Anne pulled it from his hand, her face knowing. "I’ll catch you later, Beau.”
 
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me?
How my poor heart aches
With every step you take?

The front of the store was almost done. A circle of chairs made a ring around a colorful play mat. It was just a matter of time before the show would begin.
 
Holly prepped the changing table, tying on a blue 'It's a Boy' balloon to its corner.
 
Humming along to the music, as she did with the other songs. A voice upon a voice, a whisper upon a whisper.
 
Besides the baby, all that was missing were the diapers; but he'd manage to eventually stumble across them, even if he made a few pit stops along the way.

It was weird being her now, a different ‘her’ from a week ago. That's when Beau ruined the old Holly, but the new one wasn’t so bad. The ‘new’ Holly had found a way to get even, she'd been promised that much by the voice beyond the mirror. And if she was being truthful to herself, if there was a lone bright side to all of this nightmare; it was that Beau was going to make one cute baby.

[kerry]

I do love the mysterious vibe you have in these stories. Even though we now understand what is going on (at least to some extent) it is fun to watch it play out. One thing, though: are you misusing the term "muzak" or is he? it's clear from the context that this is the actual Police song, not a muzak version of it.

[dmavn]

There's just an unlimited amount of stories in my head, and I have to work my way through them with limited time and limited talent.

You are SERIOUSLY selling yourself short.. I just finished presents before reading the latest chapter and without a doubt I think you are an AWESOME author. If you ever say you have limited talent again I might just have to send my mommy over to give you a well deserved spanking! ?

[diaperboymi]

Life can get crazy...take your time with the updates and stories.   This was a geat chapter.  You are doing a Fantastic job.   Thanks!!!!!

[Zylo1893]

Please don't be discouraged. I personally love your writing style and find your stories to be rather unique. Most stories around here or other communities can be so cookie cutter and generic. This is not one of those examples, so please keep your head up high. The creativeness gives me Longrifle vibes. 

 

 

 

[D503]

Great stuff - please don't burn yourself out - we can't afford to lose you to the cube.

[direking]

On 6/6/2022 at 12:32 PM, kerry said:

I do love the mysterious vibe you have in these stories. Even though we now understand what is going on (at least to some extent) it is fun to watch it play out. One thing, though: are you misusing the term "muzak" or is he? it's clear from the context that this is the actual Police song, not a muzak version of it.

Once again, you're right. I think I'm misusing the word muzak. I'm referring to background music in a retail store, not the genre. I've already made changes to future parts making sure I won't do it again.

On 6/6/2022 at 7:39 PM, dmavn said:

There's just an unlimited amount of stories in my head, and I have to work my way through them with limited time and limited talent.

You are SERIOUSLY selling yourself short.. I just finished presents before reading the latest chapter and without a doubt I think you are an AWESOME author. If you ever say you have limited talent again I might just have to send my mommy over to give you a well deserved spanking! ?

EEK! I'll be good. I'll be good.

I wasn't exactly putting myself down. It's more that I can't just write things perfectly without a lot of time and effort, and energy. There's only a limited amount of direking, and sometimes that's frustrating.

Thanks for saying nice things.

On 6/7/2022 at 3:13 PM, diaperboymi said:

Life can get crazy...take your time with the updates and stories.   This was a geat chapter.  You are doing a Fantastic job.   Thanks!!!!!

Thanks for the compliments. I plan on taking my time on future projects. Write when I 'want' to, not when I 'need' to. I think one is invigorating, the other is draining.

On 6/7/2022 at 10:18 PM, Zylo1893 said:

Please don't be discouraged. I personally love your writing style and find your stories to be rather unique. Most stories around here or other communities can be so cookie cutter and generic. This is not one of those examples, so please keep your head up high. The creativeness gives me Longrifle vibes. 

 

 

 

I'm not sure my stuff can be compared to Longrifle. My writing is far too clumsy. I'm flattered by the comparison, though. Thanks. 'Discouraged' is a perfect word to describe just how I felt. I like Lovington, but I have to come to terms with it being an acquired taste.

 

On 6/8/2022 at 4:50 PM, D503 said:

Great stuff - please don't burn yourself out - we can't afford to lose you to the cube.

This is the second half of part 3. There are probably going to be 5-6 Parts, some may be broken in half like Part 3. Part 4 is coming along nicely, but I'm not going to post anything until the entire story is done. That way it can be released in a timely manner. I appreciate your kind words and patience.

Keep in mind this is a Halloween story. It leans towards the eldritch horror more than my usual stuff.

Thanks for reading.

----------------

1988 pt 4: I'll be Watching You

 

The diaper section was nothing short of magnificent. There were long rows of multicolored boxes all organized by brand. Colorful packages of Pampers, Huggies, and Luvs transformed the typically boring and nondescript into a tunnel of rainbow.

An overwhelming, daunting amount of diapers and decisions. No wonder Christine needed his help, if he could help at all.
 
Beau felt relieved to find Christine there, in her leather jacket and ripped jeans, carefully examining each box — finally a friendly face, and a wall, too. Beau had managed to trek from one side of Webbers to the other. How did it feel like it took months to get here?
 
It didn't matter, he was here now. He hustled over her way, and she greeted him with half a smile.
 
Christine offered, “Nice mittens.”
 
Beau tugged at his lower lip to fight the heat in his cheeks. He’d somehow forgotten about the annoying bastards; but now that they were noticed by Christine, they felt simultaneously larger yet more confining: Schrodinger’s baby mittens.
 
“Yeah, got them on sale, really completes the outfit.” Beau wiped his brow with his forearm.
 
He took a short look around. There certainly were a lot of diapers, plenty of choices for babies to choose, but they gave him the heebie-jeebies for some reason.
 
“Whatever, Beau. Are you sure you want to wear the rest of the ensemble? It’s going to be cute.. and you… you know what I’m going to say. Just baby stuff. Nothing but baby stuff. Day after day.”
 
When Christine faded out, Beau placed a mitt on her shoulder.
 
“You okay, Christine?” Beau tried to comfort her, unsure of what was bothering his usually reserved friend. “This place is starting to get to me, and you look a little pale, even for you.”
 
Christine cleared her throat and shook her head a little, tussling the short strands of black hair against her neck.
 
“I think I’m okay, I guess.” She quickly changed the direction of the conversation. “Get a load of these diapers, they’ve got all the latest technology like on the space shuttle.”
 
Whatever. Beau zoomed in on the poster-sized placard tacked to the metal shelf. It featured a bent over baby with a huge white diaper. The baby must have liked what they were wearing, because they were already digging through the box for the next one.
 
‘Luvs creates the comfortable diaper’
 
Then there was another ad with an equally cute baby.
 
‘Luvs keeps your little dreamboat comfortable’
 
The paragraph printed below the adorable picture went on and on about a comfortable hourglass design, and flexible leg gathers. Whatever that meant. Then it bragged about stopping leaks, which was probably a good thing for a diaper.

Beau had no idea what Christine wanted from him, so he pretended to actually consider the ad for more than a millisecond.
 
The poster was so informative, not.
 
“What do you think, Beau?” Christine pulled herself closer to him.
 
Beau welcomed her soft touch, his broad shoulder making contact with the shorter girl. The leather on her jacket sang as they squeezed together.
 
“They look good to me,” Beau said like a professional. “I mean - if you’re going to be sitting on your poop, you might as well look cute. Also, I’m sure everyone will appreciate the lack of leaking, living with a little pee fountain is probably quite the buzzkill.”
 
Her pale face seemed to brighten a little from his words. “You really like them?”
 
Beau laughed. “You’re really taking this baby shower seriously, Christine.”
 
Christine playfully slapped him away from her, before crossing her arms and giving him a dirty look worthy of the record books.
 
Her normal reaction was another sight for sore eyes.
 
Finally, someone was acting like themselves. Christine wouldn’t care about diapers, other baby things, or have the patience to cooperate with an airhead like Vanessa, or his bitch of a mother.

This baby stuff had to be a smokescreen for something else. She hated everyone and everything, and she fucked angry like no one else. Most of all, she held a deep seated hatred for Lovington.
 
She explained, “I just want the… um, baby to be comfortable, you know?”
 
He said, “I’ll ask again, you doing alright?”
 
Christine stifled a slight shiver by tightening his arms across her chest.

“It’s this day and this place, Beau. It makes me feel so alive and so nervous at the same time.”
 
Beau absently stroked her hair, which was hard to do with the stupid mittens. Still, it was a closeness they only shared when no one was watching.
 
“I know the feeling, Christine. Every Friday right before the game, I feel like I’m going to puke all over the locker room.”
 
She countered, “I’m sure coach would love for you to save your ralphing for the huddle.”
 
They both laughed. She fell into his arms, and he held her against his chest. Christine was a sea urchin — so inky black and spiky on the outside, but on the inside she was nothing but a scared softy. A teddy bear in a studded leather jacket.
 
The ‘Lover Boy’ knew her deepest, darkest secrets.
 
Beau didn’t mean to cheat on Vanessa, it wasn't planned or anything. There was something he and Christine shared that Vanessa couldn’t understand. Everything wasn’t perfect and rosy at his house either. Her stepdad was a perverted jerk. His mom a chain smoking bitch.
 
Broken people from broken homes seek out one another like iron fillings to magnets. They had to stick together to get through whatever they were getting through.
 
Vanessa would never understand. Maybe he was using Vanessa instead of using Christine.
 
Still, Christine would never admit to their magnetic attraction, which only made her even more endearing.

She said it was just about the sex, but it wasn’t just that; she used him, and he was okay with it. In those fifteen minutes of pushing and panting, they could both keep the demons at bay. She felt free. Beau did, too.
 
He patted her back with his mitten hand, and took a deep breath. Maybe things could turn out okay, he hadn’t felt optimistic like this since wrecking the Trans Am and — and. No. Don’t let that memory ruin this moment.
 
Christine peered up at him with those dark eyes. He loved those eyes.
 
“I’m so scared, Beau. It’s like I’m not in control of myself, like I’m being pulled along by a string, and I’m forced to say and do things. It’s like I’m stuck in a dream, and it’s impossible to wake up.”
 
Beau said, “It’s this place, Christine.”
 
“You mean Lovington, or this ‘Ma’ Webber’s store?”
 
He considered for a moment. Girls liked it when he thoughtfully considered things, like cards and flowers. And remembering their birthdays.
 
“Well, let’s first get the fuck out of this place. Then we can leave Lovington together.”
 
Christine exhaled. “It’s impossible to leave Lovington, Beau. Trust me. I’ve been trying my whole life, they won’t let us out.”
 
“Who’s they?” Beau pulled away.
 
Christine didn’t answer, only melted further into his arms. Her spiky defenses had fallen, and the soft interior became fully exposed. She wasn't going to tell him any more. He'd been with her long enough to know when to stop pressing, especially about things concerning her weird step-dad, what he wanted her to wear, and her thoughts on their small town.
 
She asked, “You really mean together?”
 
Beau stopped for a moment. His words were a shovel and he kept digging deeper with each unmade promise. Would he keep these promises? Or were they to be added to others - the lies he kept telling?

He stammered, “I… I ..”
 
“Forget it.” Christine wiped a fresh tear from her eye. “Let’s just focus on the now, and we’ll worry about the later, later.”
 
“You’re right," Beau whispered as he rubbed her shoulder.
 
They broke their embrace and returned to the task of picking out diapers for a nameless baby. It was what they could do to ward off the unease that seemed to descend on the two of them when they weren’t looking.
 
Beau cleared his throat.
 
"I think you're onto something with these Luvs diapers. Look here, more science stuff.”

Another Luvs ad explained how boy babies and girl babies peed in different spots on a diaper. It made sense, Beau had played enough ‘doctor’ to put two and two together. However, he couldn’t get over how silly it looked in action, like who thought up all of this stuff?

The marketing continued its simple message with colored boxes: pink for girls and blue for boys.

Pee zones? Really? Beau smirked and raised an eyebrow. In the middle of the pink diaper was an oblong shape traced in a dotted, oval-ish like a tampon. Inside the blue diaper was a dotted triangle; boys peed in triangles, message understood.
 
“Extra padding depending on tinkle parts,” Beau remarked, he was getting a kick out of the diaper section after all. "That's twenty first century tech in action. However, I didn't know that boys peed in triangles while girls peed in ovals.”
 
He gave her a knowing look, letting her know he was about to misbehave.
 
“If you start peeing in hexagons you need to get checked for the clap."
 
"You're stupid, Beau." Christine wistfully rubbed his arms. "Stupid and funny. I'm going to miss that about you."
 
Miss him? Was she planning on ending their relationship? Their side dish, secret romance was the only time where he could actually feel vulnerable and feel that was all 'okay'. A place where the 'Lover Boy' just became Beau Taylor.
 
There was an 'offness' with Christine, within her eyes hid a reddish hint of something. Maybe she'd been smoking grass, and not the turf that covered the football field. However, she didn't smell like it, something else was wrong.
 
"You're not telling me something," accused Beau.
 
“I don’t know, Beau. There's just too much to say in so little time. And I don’t think it makes any difference at this point. Things are going to go the way they’re going to go."
 
Christine ran a soft hand under his chiseled chin, gently rubbing his prickly scruff with her thumb. Then she sniffed back another tear.
 
"Why don’t you catch up to Vanessa? She’s probably having a hard time picking out toys for the baby. Find something that would make him happy. I think I’m done here.”

Beau asked, “Are you sure I can’t stay?”

He didn’t want to be alone in this place any longer.

“No, I think you need to leave - like now.”

Beau followed her eyes to the far side of the rainbow diaper aisle. His mom and 'Ma' Webber casually approached from the end of the shopping lane, loudly conversing like they were the best of friends.
 
Beau thought his mom's new best friend was creepy at best.
 
His mom never had any friends, except Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, and the constant pack of Newports she kept around like a comfort blanket.
 
At his side, Christine gained a renewed sense of urgency; she pulled away from his embrace, leaving him standing alone. She plucked a baby blue box of Luvs Deluxe from the shelves, and clutched onto the sides like a rubber raft, as if her life depended on the diapers in that cardboard cube.
 
The writing on the side of the diaper box caught his eye.
 
‘A change in diapers that will change your life’
 
Puzzling. Strange. Weird. And somewhat appropriate for his problems. He hesitated in the middle of the lane, reading it for a second and third time.
 
“Go on, now.” Christine motioned for him to leave.
 
So he did. Opposite the way of Miss Webber and his mom. Unsure of what exactly scared Christine about Miss Webber, but the tell-tale lines of her face said what she couldn't: The tough old broad terrified her.
 
.....
 
‘A change in diapers that will change your life’
 
That was a thought chunky enough to keep his mind chewing.
 
Once again he was wandering alone, sleepwalking the beige tile floors, while the same song continued to play with his mind.

Every move you make
And every vow you break
Every smile you fake
Every claim you stake
I'll be watching you

It was all too weird, he couldn’t think about anything besides the diapers, the store, or his regrets. He tried. Nothing came to mind.
 
Beau stopped when a long line of strollers caught his wandering attention. Some of them looked pretty big, like that oversized car seat he saw outside when they first got to this strange place.
 
He traipsed into the aisle.
 
Dozens of the strollers sat diagonally all in a row, untouched by the constant hustle and bustle of the strange store. Its own little parking lot in a way. He saw them as little cars.
 
It made him miss the Firebird, he and that car had some times together. Both in the front seat and the back. That was his locus of freedom, his way out of his house, and out of Lovington.
 
Sometimes he'd just drive; and well, just drive.
 
He didn't need to do more than that to temporarily rip away the suffocating force of living in a sleepy small town. Driving alone was a breath of fresh air before the oncoming dirty rag reeking of chloroform.
 
Beau walked along them, lightly jostling the strollers until he saw a big one with red, white and black coloring. Streaks of red and white dashed across the side of the seat, reminding him of the awesome paint job on his dead car. All it needed was a painted bird across the hood, and it would be a perfect facsimile of the Firebird.
 
It made him feel bittersweet. A ridiculous feeling to have when handling an empty stroller, but it didn’t stop Beau from reflecting on his mistakes.
 
Again he felt like he was being watched, and he was - he looked up and saw Tracy at the end of the lane.
 
What the hell was she doing here?
 
Beau spun in place before heading the opposite direction from his new stalker, checking over his shoulder to see if she was following him.
 
Tracy perked up and called out, “Can I help you, baby?”
 
Beau lifted a mitten to shield his face, then did his best to ignore her, swiftly cutting through the next part of the maze, and away from Tracy the Cray-cee.
 
Since you've gone, I've been lost without a trace
I dream at night, I can only see your face
I look around, but it's you I can't replace
I feel so cold, and I long for your embrace
I keep crying baby, baby please
 
……..
 
Beau paced around in circles, doubling back more than a few times trying to shake any tails. The strange employees, the alien environment, and the lack of his normal capacity left him for a loss. This was something... something... weird.
 
Ominous thunder rolled in the darkening sky, shaking the store to its foundations. A nasty storm loudly proclaiming its arrival.
 
Before him was an empty aisle.
 
Empty of shelves and empty of employees, but full of large rectangles covered by draped black cloth braced against the shelf walls.
 
Beau immediately realized that he wasn’t supposed to be here.
 
He stood there a moment. Unsure.
 
A silhouette of a teenage boy surrounded by the veiled shapes. All wrapped up in a bundle, like there had been a funeral, or this aisle had been abandoned by time.
 
He strangely felt drawn to the black curtains, the angry storm again rumbled, and the caged lights flickered overhead. The steel rafters resettled after each thunderclap. A cloud of dust showered down to the floor below, Beau covered his eyes with a mitten and stepped into the empty aisle.
 
He whispered under his breath, “What the hell?”
 
Intuition spoke to him.
 
The same intuition that warned him of an oncoming linebacker from his blindside, the sixth sense of a senior quarterback screamed at him to scramble. But he didn’t.
 
The black rectangles covered something important. Why else would they be covered and this aisle left empty?

He felt drawn to them, like he was usually drawn to trouble, how it reeled him with every single hook. A toddler-like glee of putting a hand in the cookie jar.
 
An inner voice warned: 'Only bad boys looked under the curtains'
 
Beau loved to violate the natural order of things whenever he had the chance. If a sign read no walking on the grass, he would be the first to place a red converse on that lawn.
 
The same voice chastised him: 'That's a bad boy, Beau. Don't touch the cloth.'
 
Of course that meant that he was going to do exactly that. Beau quieted his conscience by approaching the mysterious object closest to him. This was stupid, and scary. Stupidly scary.
 
His heart thundered, so did the sky above. The dangling overhead lights flickered as they swayed from side to side. It was getting pretty bad out there, bad enough to rock the building. He hoped the power would hold out for this sudden rain shower, the last thing he wanted was to be in the dark in this frightening baby store.
 
Beau bit his lower lip as he reached into the 'cookie jar'.
 
The tips of his fingers tingled when the mitten made contact with the black cloth; it was heavy fabric, something painters would use to cover the floor before starting a job.
 
He took a deep breath, then began to slowly peel the corner away, halfway expecting to see a pentagram painted in goat's blood, or a blown up photo of the Kennedy assassination, or a map of Area 51. Or another diaper ad about stopping leaks and peeing shapes.
 
It wasn't anything like that.
 
It was a mirror.
 
Beau didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed, judging by the way his heart kicked like he'd just run a hundred yards, he'd put his money on relief.
 
He held the cloth in his hand as he studied the rest of the aisle, it looked like the objects were all around the same size as the one he revealed. He assumed there were more mirrors out there, probably dozens of them covered up by tarps. Why were the mirrors like that? This place kept getting weirder and weirder.
 
It was probably nothing. Beau went to slide the cloth back safely behind the large looking glass. An attempt to hide the evidence that he was even there. Then he thought he saw something in the mirror — a light — not from the distant overhead thingies that seemed so far away. A light coming from somewhere else.
 
Beau squinted as he peered into the glass, he moved himself squarely in front of the mirror.

He was a good looking dude, absolutely bad to the bone.

The 'Lover Boy' couldn't get enough of his reflection, Beau checked himself out from every angle. Left side, his best side, was perfect... but there was something wrong with his eyes.
 
He dropped to his knees so he could get closer to the mirror, only inches away.
 
"No fucking way," Beau whispered. "That's impossible."
 
His eyes were faintly glowing blue.

Beau checked again - his eyes were still freaking glowing. Just like the Terminator guy from that movie, a dull electric blue light sat deep within his pupils. If he wasn't looking at himself so closely, he'd missed it.
 
His intuition had enough of this place.
 
It was time to scramble.
 
He had to get out of there, he had to show someone, he had to figure this out.
 
Beau felt that 'being followed' feeling again. Someone stood right behind him, towering over him as he knelt to the floor.
 
A girl’s voice sounded out. "Guess who?"
 
He wasn't in the mood for these games.
 
"Tracy, if it's you, I swear —"
 
He was roughly spun around and looked up into a very angry Vanessa. He’d seen this look before, and it usually involved face slapping and f-bombs. That’s how their relationship went; hot and cold, with the passions of an angry forty year marriage.
 
Vanessa barked, "Tracy? Who the fuck is Tracy?"
 
"Vanessa!" Beau pleaded, cowering from the slaps that didn’t fall. "It's not what it sounds like. It's some annoying girl that works here."
 
"Gag me with a spoon, Beau. I can't even leave you alone for ten minutes without you chasing skirt like a lovesick child. You are an incorrigible asshole, a horndog with a wagging tongue, and I have no idea why I'm still going out with you."
 
Beau grinned and panted, and remained on all fours. 'Lover Boy' time.
 
“I may be a horn dog, but I’m your horn dog.”
 
“You’re lucky I don’t shoot you behind the barn like Old Yeller.” Vanessa chided as she helped him to his feet. "What are you even doing on the ground?"
 
"Vanessa, check out this mirror." Beau pulled her next to him.
 
Vanessa didn't seem to want to have anything to do with this mirror thing, but she was used to his crazy antics, just the price to pay when you date Beau Taylor. There were other costs, too. And from the looks of it, she had footed the bill for far too long.

Beau pointed towards their reflection. "Vanessa, look."

The blonde melted from his words.
 
"Aww. Are you saying that we make a cute couple? We do make a cute couple."
 
He corrected her. "No, look at my eyes."

Vanessa resolidified from his stupidity, her cold and icy demeanor evident to everyone besides Beau.
 
"Beau, you're so full of yourself. I look into those eyes everytime we kiss, and every time you lie to me. That's how I know you're not being tru...”
 
"Shh!" Beau quieted his girlfriend as he watched himself in the mirror.
 
“What the hell are you doing, Beau?” Vanessa looked at him like he was crazy, mostly because he was acting crazy. “I’m being serious, and don’t you shush me. I’ve been giving you and me a lot of thought… and I’m getting tired…”
 
The Lover Boy didn’t listen. He never listened, especially when it came to something important.
 
Beau pulled at his eyelids with his mitts, his dancing pupils bouncing side to side as he strained himself to see that blue light again. It wasn’t there, but he wasn't going crazy, he saw what he saw, and Vanessa would see it, too. Totally.
 
Vanessa prepared another condescending volley to send his way.
 
"You're surrounded by cute, and you go towards the creepy. How typical."
 
Beau asked, "What are you trying to say?"
 
“You know what I'm saying,” answered Vanessa, her true emotions barely masked by a scowl.
 
He knew exactly ‘who’ she was talking about: Christine.
 
“Come on, Vanessa. It’s not like that with her either. If you’d just give me a chance to explain.”
 
“No, it is exactly like ‘that’ with that slut. The whole school knows — shoot, the whole town knows, even my parents. You’re making me look stupid… and… things have changed, and I can’t go out with you anymore.”
 
Beau asked, “Are you breaking up with me?”
 
“Yes. Yes. And yes! You’re not boyfriend material anymore, you’re something else.”
 
Vanessa rallied like every word she said gave her more strength to pull the trigger. She had changed her ways, and her typical mannerisms. Her hands didn’t comb through her blonde hair, they found a home at her hips. She stood broader and stronger, albeit feistier and sexier in his eyes.
 
“You’ve always been too immature for me, Beau. I put up with all of your childishness thinking that one day you’d make changes. That day is here, but now you’ll need changes. Because you deserve everything that’s coming to you. Holly told me…”

He reacted. “Holly told you what?”

Vanessa hesitated. “It doesn’t matter, we’re over now.”
 
Beau stood still as he collapsed in reverse swan dive fashion. His chiseled chin found his chest, his strong arms dropped as his broad shoulders drooped, his mittens turned towards the ground. His clever ways with the ladies fell short, as he was unable to utter a single word as his heart broke. The ‘Lover Boy’ never even saw this coming.
 
I'll be watching you
(Every move you make)
(Every vow you break)
(Every smile you fake)
(Every claim you stake)
 
I'll be watching you
(Every single day)
(Every word you say)
(Every game you play)
(Every night you stay)
 
I'll be watching you...
 
Vanessa and Beau glared at each other in silence as the music played overhead.
 
So this was how they were going to end.
 
The ghostly, ephemeral guitar continued its mesmerizing arpeggio as “Every Breath you Take” faded away.
 
Lost words hung out to dry on empty air; their meaning pressed into the past, only to disappear like a message in sand, soon to be erased by the oncoming tide.
 
No — It may have sounded like one at one time, but it wasn’t a love song at all.

[kerry]

2 hours ago, direking said:

Schrodinger’s baby mittens

Love this!

And the story is so very wonderfully creepy!

[Jayme]

Okay, you have officially hooked me on the Lovington saga. I totally agree with you when you said to write when you want.

As for being an amateur writer I can't see it. It would be like Beethoven playing around, You good friend have a talent that is wonderful and inspiring. I'm happy to wait while you show us your Art.

[direking]

On 6/26/2022 at 4:46 AM, Jayme said:

Okay, you have officially hooked me on the Lovington saga. I totally agree with you when you said to write when you want.

As for being an amateur writer I can't see it. It would be like Beethoven playing around, You good friend have a talent that is wonderful and inspiring. I'm happy to wait while you show us your Art.

Thanks for liking my stuff! The positive comments and the requests for more were the main reasons I came back to finish Beau's story. So thanks, and I hope you like the rest.

On 6/9/2022 at 2:04 PM, kerry said:

Love this!

And the story is so very wonderfully creepy!

I was aiming for something scarier this time around, and I delivered a pretty creepy chapter near the end. Without Merit was more of a Lovington comedy, while this one was supposed to lean towards the weird, horror variety. As always, I appreciate your input, and I hope you like the rest of the story because the best parts are yet to come.

Awhile back I said that I wouldn't post anything until I had it finished. In related news, here is the next part of Lover Boy. A couple of things before taking off; I reordered the chapters from (chapter 3 pt 1 and 2) to (chapter 3 and chapter 4) so now we're at chapter 5. Since its now finished, I can fully re-assert that this story is an adult story, all characters are over 18. Finally, I fully blame the story on the music I listened to while getting into '80s' mode, I think listening along while reading makes it a little more fun. Also, extra bonus points for any 80s baby who can guess the final song in chapter 7.

Anyways, thanks for being patient. I said it'd be done in October, and here we are.

Thanks for reading.

......

Chapter 5: You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)

He shouted, “I can explain, Vanessa!”
 
Beau hurried to follow his girlfriend, who was rapidly zigzagging through the store. No matter what he did, or said, or lied, her attention was beyond his reach. Those easy days of placating her just by batting his baby blues were over. That bothered him. Same with the fact that she wasn’t slowing; she seemed to be going faster and faster, and Beau broke into a jog to catch up.
 
The speakers crackled again, the screeching sound of synthesizer blasted overhead. It was "You Spin me Round" by Dead or Alive.
 
If I, I get to know your name
Well, I could trace
Your private number, baby
 
All I know is that to me
You look like you're lots of fun
Open up your lovin' arms
I want some, want some
 
Beau yelled, “I said ‘wait!”
 
Again, Vanessa didn’t seem to hear him. She kept speeding forward, then sideways, bouncing between aisles while he followed behind. Beau had a hard time figuring out why he struggled to keep up with Vanessa. He felt so weak, and so very lost. How the heck did she get so freaking fast?
 
Beau stumbled behind as best he could, but the feeling of fresh heartbreak overshadowed just about everything, even his sense of direction.
 
It was all so stupid.
 
He knew it wasn’t real love, because it was something else. Still, Beau couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.
 
“You’re such a pig, Beau. I can’t believe that you’ve been banging that tramp behind my back!” Vanessa shouted back at him, moving faster and taking sharp turns every chance she could. "The worst part is that you don’t even care that I know.”
 
Beau faltered. “Vanessa, baby… “
 
She halted and turned from the end of the long aisle of formula cans. Then she sneered, “I’m not the baby here — you are.”

“What?”
 
Again, no explanation.
 
Once more, Vanessa shot off to the races, moving impossibly fast while Beau moved impossibly slow. He trailed further and further behind like a kid brother with stubby legs.
 
There was nothing good or right in this situation; it was all wrong, like he felt all week long. And it all hurt, like it stole something from him, tearing away his confidence until there was nothing left for the 'Lover Boy'. He could hardly put a finger on why this place was so draining, it had something to do with the music, and the way it made him 'feel' things. He needed away from this place, and its soundtrack that bullied his conscience.
 
I set my sights on you (And no one else will do)
And I, I've got to have my way now, baby
 
All I know is that to me
You look like you're havin' fun
Open up your lovin' arms
Watch out, here I come
 
One step at a time, Beau. He re-ordered his priorities, he needed to work with what was right in front of him, which was his fight with Vanessa, and the last thing he needed right now was a very public row with his girlfriend.
 
Beau panted, “Could we not do this?"
 
"We have to do it this way." Vanessa held her ground, carefully putting her words together. "It's all about your forever."
 
His 'forever'? He was running out of breath. His head hurt. His 'bell was rung'. He took a bad shot, seemingly from all directions, and the hits came one after another. What freaking 'forever'?
 
Then something altogether strange happened.
 
Vanessa stood twenty feet in front of him, but when he looked to his left, she was there, too. Beau quickly turned to the right, and she was there, just walking away.
 
"Impossible..." gasped Beau. Mostly because it was impossible.
 
It was impossible for everything to be the same from all sides, but Lovington's best baby store cared little for the rules of reality. Beau still grasped onto his limited understanding, trying to keep the shock from taking hold. He rubbed his eyes with his mittens, giving his senses a chance to brush all of this nonsense aside, but that didn't work either. 
 
The aisles all looked the same because they were the same, down to the littlest detail. This place was a house of mirrors, somehow Vanessa was moving away from him in every direction while he stood there dumbfounded.
 
Who built this place, MC Escher?
 
He recalled a poster in math class, an artistic rendition of an impossible world full of stairs and towers, a place of infinite loops, a maze with no beginning or ending.
 
Or in this case, a baby store with no front or back, only baby bottles, stuffed animals, diapers and pacifiers, shelves and boxes, as far as the eye could see.
 
That's all he learned in math, MC Escher. He didn't need math to throw a football, so no one cared if he stared at a poster instead of doing his homework.
 
Algebra. MC Escher. Algebra again. MC Escher. Geometry, more MC Escher.
 
Had Beau been into books, he would have had the vocabulary to describe the kaleidoscope effect of the ever-changing baby store; since the only thing he read were the naughty bits between pictures in a Penthouse magazine, all his brain could summon was 'what the fuck?', and that was sufficient.
 
The chorus kicked in as the room began to spin.
 
You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round
Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round
You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round
Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round
 
Beau felt like a solitary sun as the store orbited around him, a roulette wheel of shelves and boxes, strollers and cribs and diapers that rounded around and around. Aisles circled about him, their contents changing from formula to bottles, bibs and burping cloths, a return of that rainbow diaper aisle.

This wasn’t real, wasn’t happening, it was all in his head. The result of being tackled too many times.
 
Yeah, that's what made the place spin, the mental tackling.
 
The store was a square, he was spinning in circles, and he’d just found out that he peed in triangles. Things weren’t shaping up for him at the moment.
 
He tried to right the listing ship by taking baby steps, but the shelves around him changed as he passed, boundaries shifted with every other second. The bouncing sounds of synthesizer tickled the back of his neck, carelessly tossing around the parts of the brain that kept his equilibrium.
 
At the end of every aisle stood Vanessa and her almost full shopping cart, until she rounded another bend and was out of sight. He couldn't be left here without her help, he just couldn't stand the idea of being trapped in his own madness.
 
Beau stumbled and shouted, "No, don't leave me here!"
 
He found his footing as he ran, but he didn't move down the aisle like the rest of his eighteen years of earthly experience, the shelves seemed to extend and pull away similar to a telescopic lens.
 
Beau pushed and pushed, fighting the nature of the chaos until there was nothing left. After running for a while, he doubled over, put his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. This was all so.. impossible.
 
Rain pounded the metal roof. Filling the air with a white noise like static on a rabbit ears television. The thrumming made him need to pee. He hadn’t gone since school and that strangely felt like hours ago.
 
Time felt different inside this place. It reminded him of being blackout drunk, finding himself in spots and situations where he didn’t remember how he got there. The last time he was that drunk, he was driving his now deceased sports car.
 
I've set my sights on you (And no one else will do)
And I, I've got to have
My way now, wittle baby
All I know is that to me
Beau looks like he's havin' fun
Open up your lovin' arms
Watch out, here I come
 
He heard the second track again, this time in a different spot than before, so it wasn’t the acoustics, or the new building, it was something else.
 
Unfortunately, the mystery of the ‘something else’ would have to wait. He needed to pee in a triangle, he needed a toilet. How would he go about finding a bathroom here?
 
Beau found himself wandering around the store again. How big was this place? He walked past the crib with the football sheets and past the row of strollers.
 
He could've sworn he walked in a completely different direction each time and still ended up in the same place.
 
Over to his right, there was a long line of mirrors covered by black cloth, right next to the huge crib with the football sheets. Beau knew for a fact that they walked away from this spot as he and Vanessa argued, but his head hurt as he tried to remember where they went. He knew he could just figure this out — if he could ignore his growing need for a few seconds.
 
But the need to potty grabbed him by the insides.
 
You need to crawl 'round, baby, crawl 'round
Like a baby, baby, crawl 'round, 'round, 'round
You need to crawl 'round, baby, crawl 'round
Like a baby, baby, crawl 'round, 'round, 'round
 
What the hell was he hearing?
 
Beau shook his head and the song turned back to normal, or as normal as before the change in lyrics. He adjusted his pace and held his stomach as the room spun around again. Then the pitching building stopped, or the chaos slowed, or he just got used to the rocking motion of the swaying store.
 
And Beau continued his journey.
 
He found Vanessa surrounded by baby toys, maybe she could provide an explanation, or maybe he could give an explanation about his behavior. Maybe mend the fence between them or something.
 
"I can explain, Vanessa."
 
Beau approached her with his mitten hands held wide. He was so sweaty, like he'd just got done playing all four quarters.
 
His girlfriend hovered over a shopping cart with stacks of baby stuff inside: a pair of huge baby bottles, six or seven big bibs, an oversized rattle or two. There were other toys in there, a long xylophone, and a large stuffed football, almost the size of a real one. Everything was there besides the diapers, even the football themed bed sheets.
 
"Explain, what?" Vanessa was going over a checklist with a ballpoint pen.
 
"About Christine?" mumbled Beau, confused.
 
“Hmm…” Vanessa awoke from her daydream. “Were you saying something, baby?”
 
He repeated, “I was talking about Christine.”
 
“Auntie Christine is picking out your diapers, she should be back any second now. Beau, try not to wander off. It’s almost time for the baby shower, and I’m trying to get through this list, so I don’t want to chase you all around the store.”
 
He argued, "I wasn't... I didn't run off."
 
Vanessa said, "Sure you didn't, baby."
 
The frantic need to pee returned, and he grimaced and crossed his legs.
 
Vanessa asked, “Are you sure you don’t need to tinkle?”
 
Beau shook his head.
 
Great, now she was acting strange. Or was Beau acting strange? He had never wandered off, and Christine had already picked out his diapers. No. The diapers. They didn’t belong to him, they belonged to the baby shower.
 
"We don't want you to have some kind of accident," added Vanessa, she had a way of drilling home the obvious.
 
"No, we don't want that," agreed Beau.

I, I, I
I got to be your friend now, baby
And I would like to move in just a little bit closer (To move in just a little bit closer)
 
The song once again caught his attention, pulling him from Vanessa with a baited hook. Beau spun in unison with the store, turning from his moral confusion and back to his physical one. He found himself again in the mouth of the beast, the aisle of black tarps and covered mirrors sat ominously in front of him. Its sudden return stopped him in his tracks, he had to get away from that place, it pulled him deeper into his darker fears.
 
So he did a full 360 degrees, and there they were again. It was as impossible to escape as this baby store.
 
He took a few steps away from Vanessa, surprised by the sight of the empty aisle, also by the lack of physical continuity of this strange place.
 
Exasperated, Beau considered the impossible.
 
He knew that aisle was closer to the — Beau squinted his eyes, and he still couldn’t see the end of the store. Just more shelves filled with products of plastic. Of love and care. Of devotion and affection. For the tiniest of little humans, babies.
 
Maybe Cray-cee Tracy wasn’t crazy until she started working here. It was this whacky store, the loud music, and his sick stomach. He felt nauseous, like a swimming sensation from treading water on dry land.
 
He was so tired, a mental fatigue from getting his ‘bell rung’ one too many times.

I want your looooove
 
You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round
Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round
You spin me right 'round, baby, right 'round
Like a record, baby, right 'round, 'round, 'round

I need your loooooooove
 
Beau shot towards the tarp covered mirrors, strung along by a compulsion that was impossible to explain, or counteract.
 
It was all about that human survival instinct that kicked in when all was lost. Like a patient asking a doctor about how much time was left — as if that knowledge impacted the diagnosis, or put a stop to the oncoming dread.
 
That's all he felt. The dread. His hand slowly went towards the black cloth.
 
Someone grabbed him by the wrist and spun him around. It was Vanessa, alongside her shopping cart.
 
Vanessa growled, “I warned you about running off.”
 
He apologized, “I’m… I’m sorry..”
 
He saw the heat in her eyes, the unrelenting anger, a red glow of hatred. At him? Or from what he did? Or the fact that he was somewhere that he shouldn’t have been?
 
The storm roared over the music, bending and twisting the steel beams of the building, sending the dangling lights shifting back and forth overhead.
 
The power went out.
Lights on, lights off.
 
The store went dark, and when it was light again, Vanessa was gone. So was her shopping cart.
 
The fact that she disappeared didn't matter, only his reflection in the mirror mattered. He wanted to see the light blue glow again, maybe it was a hint to the goings on. He couldn’t help but feel like it was important.
 
So Beau reached again, but another hand stopped him. This time it was Corrie Anne. No, it was Cray-cee Tracy. The unsteady lighting casted quick shadows over feminine faces.
 
The thunder shook the building.
 
There was no one.
Just Beau all alone in the rainbow box diaper aisle.
 
Electric lights flickered above, causing a strobe-light effect on the colorful boxes, which made them pulse and glow.
 
How long had he been just standing there?
 
Beau needed to pee something awful. It wasn't a dull pang, or a benign instinctual warning, his bladder called for release like he'd been holding it for hours and the dam was about to break. He needed a restroom.
 
Then he spotted it, at the far end of the diaper aisle was a women's bathroom. They'd have to forgive his lack of decorum, the emergency made itself known. He needed that potty.

He didn't want to wet his pants.

He didn't want to have an accident here, if he could be spared that indignity, he'd never mistreat a girl again.
 
He'd properly break up with Vanessa and stick with Christine, juggling the two girls wasn't fair to them.
 
He'd also be nicer to his mom; deep down inside, she probably actually cared about her only son. Just in her own way.
 
He'd even… he'd even recognize what he did to Holly. An unforgivable act, but he could beg for forgiveness, if only he made it to the toilet on time.
 
Beau was well on his way when he spotted his mom and Miss Webber rounding the end of the aisle in front of him. They were still talking like best of friends, the topic of the day: disposable diapers. He really wanted to avoid them, but they were between him and the bathroom; it was too late to go around for a different aisle, so he’d have to go through them.
 
"As you can see, the days of safety pins and hanging diapers out to dry are over," asserted Miss Webber, too loudly for comfort’s sake. "Diapers will never be the same again. These new disposables are the way of the future, so precious in their design, with so much more inspiration.”
 
His mom nodded along as Beau snuck past them, they didn’t even notice.
 
“I've spoken with several influential people in the business,” continued Ma Webber. “And they've said that these diapers can take a beating, a wet crotch and a heavy bottom can do a lot in the way of correcting naughty behavior. There's nothing like making him sit in his own mess to wipe the smugness from his face. Just think, you’ll have your little boy mindful again.”
 
“I can’t thank you enough,” his mom gushed. “I can’t wait to be the only woman in his life, not these bimbo sluts.”
 
Beau ignored them like they ignored him, reaching for the door to the restroom, and pushing his way inside. The need to pee superseded the need for anything else.
 
All I know is that to me
You look like you're lots of fun
Open up your lovin' arms
Watch out, here I come
 
Beau didn't see Holly sneak in behind him as the door swung back and forth, leaving him alone with her in the bathroom.
 
WATCH OUT, HERE I COME

.....

[Zylo1893]

So happy to see a continuation. Fantastic as always! 

[D503]

Uh oh - pants dont come off with mittens! Very nice. 

My guess: "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa: oh baby baby. 

[direking]

7 hours ago, Zylo1893 said:

So happy to see a continuation. Fantastic as always! 

Thanks!

 

4 hours ago, D503 said:

Uh oh - pants dont come off with mittens! Very nice. 

My guess: "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa: oh baby baby. 

Nice catch with the mittens. Even better song.

I'm not sure I'll have a chance to get away tomorrow, so I'll post the next chapter tonight. Then the final three next week. A lot of hints for the final song in this chapter.

Thanks for reading.

.........

Chapter 6: The Voice Beyond the Mirror

 

Beau was met by a tiny, unfinished room.
 
The gray concrete floor was polished to a dull sheen, and there were a few missing ceiling tiles exposing ducts and wires, but the rest of the bathroom was as bare as a baby's bottom.
 
The first odd thing Beau noticed was the missing mirror. Above the pair of linoleum sinks there was a rectangular space painted a different color than the rest of the wall. A missing mirror. Maybe what was there ended up in that creepy aisle.
 
He didn’t let it worry him too much, since his bladder tugged at him in a way he never felt before.
 
However, it all made him uneasy. Same with the other decor.
 
A large changing table was fastened into the opposite wall. Big enough for — big enough for anyone that he could imagine. Monster, Handley, or him. Beau tried not to think that way, it was bad luck, but he kept staring at it like it was going to come alive. Fastening belts hung from the inert table, reminding him of the car seat outside, which reminded him of a straitjacket. Which meant this room had a straitjacket tacked onto the wall.
 
Beau couldn’t figure out why it just ate at him, the place chewed and chewed until he felt gnawed and gnarled, and he needed to pee.
 
The only thing between him and the toilet was a closed stall door. Beau looked at the forest green door, then at his mittens and muttered a few choice words about his predicament. He hopped around in place as he looked for another way to the commode, but he found a solution by dropping onto the floor, he tucked and crawled, shimmying his way under the partition to the other side.
 
That was easy. He was pumped up now, jumping onto his feet. He felt the ‘need’ express, the oncoming tide, the expected instant relief. All he had to do was unzip his pants and let that ‘Lover Boy’ free.
 
He again looked at his useless ‘hands’.
 
Mittens. He shouldn’t have chosen the mittens. The pacifier was so much a better choice, better to keep his mouth shut and his penis free. If only he had a second chance, that's all he needed was a second chance. With everything.
 
Beau continued to fumble with his zipper; it was useless, there was no grasping anything with these fuzz balls covering his hands. He groaned, and felt the panic close in like a vicious pass rush, and braced for the oncoming big hit.
 
The need was unbearable. He shifted tactics, shoving his thumbs into the waistline of his Guess jeans, but they’d never fit inside in a million tries, and he was running out of time.
 
Why, oh why, did he like wearing these ass-hugging tight denim jeans again? Then he thought about the number of times he'd caught girls checking him out from head to toe, from frontside to backside. The 'Lover Boy' lived for those moments, but those times seemed long gone as he fought to free his wee-wee to wee-wee.
 
Beau bounced and struggled, colliding with the tight confines of the stall walls, desperate and helpless until he just stopped, he let out a tired sob, tearless and pathetic, then slid down the wall next to the toilet.
 
“Beau?” He heard Holly’s voice from outside the stall. “Are you okay?”
 
Finally, a break that went his way. But of all helpers, why did it have to be Holly?
 
“Holly, thank goodness you’re here.” Beau couldn’t hide the excitement in his voice. “I know this is going to sound weird, but I need you to do something for me.”
 
He heard her little feet approach the closed stall, he could see her white tennis shoes in the shimmying-space under the door. 
 
Holly sassed, “What do you need?”
 
“I need your help taking off my pants so I can pee,” answered Beau.
 
“Oh, really?” Holly giggled. "Are you sure you won't do anything naughty as soon as those pants are around your ankles?"
 
He whimpered, “I’m not joking, please help me.”
 
The bathroom fell suddenly silent. The stall became a small prison cell, a place to share secrets without sharing faces. The plastic door stood as a wall between them, between his unforgivable crime and his victim.
 
Beau gathered himself, it was time: time to ‘right’ things, time to turn things around. It would start here, as an apology for something horrible; still, Beau knew that a simple 'I'm sorry' wouldn't cut it. There needed to be more atonement than just his words, but that’s all he had to offer Holly. Just words.
 
"I'm sorry, Holly."
 
"What was that, Beau?" Holly seemed to feed off his distress, unleashing her bitterness through her sarcasm. "I couldn't hear you — like you couldn't hear me, like when I said ‘to stop’, or ‘no’, or anything else I could have said. It’s hard to remember, so very hard, like I’ve been blocking it out all week long."
 
Beau repeated, “I’m sorry…”
 
She said, “No, you’re not... at least, not enough.”
 
The brutal honesty was a low blow, he was sorry, but was he as ‘sorry’ as he should have been? No. Always no.
 
His face tightened as he fought the urge to cry.
 
Crying and wetting his pants in a baby store wasn't what he had in mind when he left school this afternoon. In that time span, this clandestine shopping trip had transformed into a guilt trip. There was nothing in this place besides pain and regret, and a whole shit-ton of diapers. Now, he was at her mercy, Holly was the one in control here, and Beau would have to at least make her feel better if she was going to help him.
 
"Please believe me,” Beau again tried to apologize. “I can't say sorry enough, Holly. It was wrong what I did to..."
 
Holly interrupted him, "How does it feel, Beau?"
 
"What?" He grimaced from the pain of holding it in, it took everything he had to not piss himself. "How does 'what' feel?"
 
Outside his tiny prison cell, Holly traced the outer wall with her fingers. He watched her feet pace back and forth as he waited for her to answer. She'd better hurry, because he was about to wet himself, and not from anticipation.
 
“How does it feel being helpless? Trapped in a bathroom with a liar, someone with ulterior motives. Someone who told you that 'you're pretty, Holly' — but deep down inside, you knew that this was too much of a fairy tale to be true. It's so easy to fall in love with the idea of Beau Taylor, but the reality is altogether something else. The dumb girls always believed in you, 'Lover Boy'. Count me in that category, another casualty to your charm. I'm just another stupid, little girl with stupid dreams about love and kitties and rainbows and all of that bullshit. Just a girl that actually thought that you'd love me if I let you..."
 
"Please stop," Beau pleaded.
 
He crunched his crotch with both mittens, and tightened both legs together like the jaws of an alligator. Maybe if he squeezed hard enough, he could quench the flow.
 
Holly shouted, "You didn't stop, did you?"
 
No. He didn't. He should have, but he didn't, and things weren't going to get better for either of them unless he admitted that fact.
 
"So why should I?" Holly stated the cruel and obvious. "Why should I help you, Beau?"
 
Panicked, Beau rushed to the closed door, colliding with it harder than he expected. His desperation was palpable, surely she knew how much he needed relief. Beau pressed his cheek against the cool plastic door, where he pleaded his case.
 
"Holly, I can make it up to you. I swear. I swear on my mother, Holly. We can go out, I think Vanessa and I just broke up, and I'm free to..."
 
Holly just laughed. A spine tinglingly bad thing that didn't belong to the sweet girl he'd ruined.
 
"You swear on your mother? Ha. You hate your mother, Beau. But let me fill you in on a secret, your mother hates you, too. And Vanessa, she hates you more than your mother."
 
No. That wasn’t true. Beau opened his mouth to argue, but he was so tired. Tired of lying and tired of trying.
 
As if this night couldn't get any worse, a bit of pee trickled out, he felt the wet spot spread across the front of his BVDs. The dam was breaking, and Holly still wasn't helping.
 
What if she wasn't here to help?
 
What if she was going to just let him wet his pants?
 
The thought made him sick to his stomach. His insides were wrapped into a knot, he shook in his spot. It was so frustrating. The toilet was right there! All he needed was a hand to unzip his pants.
 
Beau brought the mittens to his face, biting at the fabric, trying to tear them free with his teeth. The tears were running free now, from exertion and frustration - not from being helpless and scared - despite what Holly claimed.
 
It was just as useless as before, and he eventually gave up on biting free.  
 
Beau slammed his covered hands against the door. "Just help me! Please! I'll do anything!"
 
"Anything?" the girl echoed.
 
Finally, he was getting somewhere in this sick psychological maze. "Absolutely, anything."
 
Holly took a pair of steps away from the restroom stall. "Alright, Beau. Come on out."
 
He didn’t need to be told twice, he rolled onto the concrete floor and crawled from under the stall door. Holly waited a few feet away, with a braces-filled smile and skinny arms folded across her denim dress. 
 
Beau scrambled to the other side of the partition and rose onto his red converses. “What do I need to do?”
 
Holly took her time to consider her options, he could see that she was just relishing this moment, Beau would have to put up with this little girl and her big power trip.
 
However, she was just coming more in-touch with the ‘new’ her.
 
The voice beyond the mirror told her that she should ‘taste’ his emotions. His fear was sweet, his desperation even more so, now she would feast on his shame. Tonight had gone without a hitch - so far. There was a grand finale on the docket, fully planned with music and pyrotechnics, and even more fear, desperation, and delicious shame.
 
So she took her sweet, delectable time to soak in his yummy fear. To Beau, it only looked like she was searching for the right words to say, but time was more precious to Beau. Which was foolish - soon he’d have his ‘forever’ and all of the time in the world.
 
Forever was going to start tonight.
 
“You want to know what I want from you? I want you to be scared, Beau. I want you to be ashamed. I want you to suffer as much as I did, I want you to lose sleep, not think of anything else, no matter how hard you try. So I want you afraid, ashamed, suffering and scared.”
 
“I am!” He pounded a mitten against his thigh. “I swear I am all of those freaking things!”
 
“Not enough, though.” Holly raised a solitary finger like a magic wand.
 
Then she gave the order: “Be a good boy and wet your pants, Beau.”
 
Just like that, Beau released his bladder into his underwear, like a good boy.
 
Beau gasped from the change of crotch temperature, from clammy to outright hot, he naturally spread his legs as the shock took the air from him, and all that was left was his blank, open mouth expression, and the warm pee that filled his underwear.
 
The designer denim jeans turned darker from his crotch down his left thigh. Beau tried to cover it up with his mittens, but it was no use, especially when the trickling pee hit his shiny red shoes and concrete floor to the tip-tap sounds of a light rain.
 
Holly put her hand to her mouth and giggled. “Uh-oh, Beau.”
 
He felt his face burn. “Please don’t look, I.. I..”
 
“I’m sorry, baby, but it looks like you had an accident. I guess we’re heading back to diapers after all. What did you end up picking up? Luvs Deluxe. You always were one with expensive tastes, a luxury diaper for the ‘Lover Boy’."
 
Holly let the insult soak-in as his pee did to the denim. "Or should I say ‘Luv'er Boy’?”
 
She squealed another evil laugh at her ‘Luver Boy’ pun.
 
He stopped in place. “Wait…”
 
Beau watched her giggle in horror, unsure what to do about his wet pants, more unsure what to do with the fact that Holly knew about the diapers Christine had picked out for the baby shower. She wasn't even in the rainbow diaper aisle when they picked them out.
 
Then why was she saying that they were 'his' diapers, like 'his’ crib, like his... like his... Oh, man!
 
He stammered, “How did you..? Just how..?”
 
“How did I know?…” Holly tapped a finger to her cheek, pretending to be thinking about the elements of his downfall. “I’ve been watching you all night. Every single move you make, every bond you break, I was watching you.”
 
“Are you just quoting song lyrics?” His face twisted, trying to figure this all out. “What’s going on?”
 
"I'm deep in that noodle of yours, Beau. Did you like the music? I picked it out myself, if you'd ever actually talked to me, you'd have known I have a good taste in music. But you didn’t, never took the time of day with little old me. Well, not until last Sunday.”
 
Her eyes met his. There was something wrong with them.
 
“You picked out the music?” He looked down at his wet pants, unable to understand.
 
“Oh, my!" Holly snorted as she laughed. "You still haven’t figured it out, Beau. I didn’t just pick out the music, I picked out the location for the baby shower, and Beau… I picked out the baby.”
 
He stepped back. “What does that even mean?”
 
Then it all hit him, like a missed block on a blindside blitz: the impossible clarity.
 
Holly delighted in watching his football damaged brain work in slow motion.
 
“No… it’s stupid.” Beau doubled over. “No, no way… what?”
 
“You’re the baby for the baby shower, Beau. Our sweet, wittle guest of honor. First comes love, then comes anger, then comes Baby Beau in the baby carriage.”
 
“You’re going to make me into a… a baby?”
 
Beau knew. Somehow, he just knew. This was all about him, and being a baby. At least, that’s what he thought he knew, but what it had to do with Holly or this place, he didn’t know, and he couldn’t figure out which was stranger: the fact that he didn’t really know, or the parts that he somehow did? 
 
He backed away with a pair of long steps, retreating from Miss Mousy until his back hit the changing table. Beau scrambled away from its lingering touch, sending the clasps snapping against the brick wall.
 
“Come on, baby.” Holly clasped her hands together against her chest. “Don’t you think this is a fair price to pay for your immaturity?”
 
“No.” Beau shook his head. “No, I don’t.”
 
“So you think it’s unfair?”
 
“Yes!” Beau exclaimed.
 
Holly crept closer, until there was no distance between him and the shorter girl. She stood way too close for his comfort.
 
“Do you know what I think is unfair?” Holly asked, rhetorically. “I think it’s unfair when some people are born with everything, the looks, the charm, the intelligence… no scratch that. You have all of the charisma in the world, everyone eats from your hands, but that isn’t enough for the ‘Lover Boy’.”
 
Holly’s anger and venom came through clenched teeth.
 
“Everything isn’t enough, is it? So you take from others, because that is your right. But not anymore!”
 
Her eyes were like literally on fire. Red. Deep and red.
 
Beau choked, “Holly, please…”
 
“Pop a pacifier in it, Beau.” Holly pointed an accusing finger at him. “This is my chance to talk, and you’re going to shut it! I was so giddy when I saw you come into our restaurant with your mom. You don’t get it, you’re a celebrity in Lovington, and I’m a nobody. You don’t understand what it’s like to be a nobody when you’re a somebody.”
 
He gasped for air, trying to figure out what she was saying. This moment proved to be altogether too much, maybe this was one of those panic attacks he learned about from television shows.
 
“What do you want, Holly?” Beau ran a mitten through his matted, sweaty hair. “You have me right where you want me, what are you going to do?”
 
“We’re going to change you from a somebody to a nobody,” snarked Holly, she was no longer mousy, she was fucking scary. “That’s the thing about change - it changes you. I felt so powerless in that moment, when you… so powerless. You left the bathroom, and I cried on the floor, then I heard the voice beyond the mirror. It told me that I would never be powerless again.”
 
He stammered, “Voice beyond the- what?”
 
“You’ll hear it soon enough, Beau.” Her promise sounded sinister and genuine.
 
“Holly, you don’t have to do this… you’re hearing voices! Something is wrong and we can fix it… it’s this store, and my mom and… and we can fix this. We can turn it around.”
 
“You’re right about one thing, Beau.” Holly said wistfully, tracing the air with her fingers. “It is this place. It is Lovington. We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks, but we’ll only be making things right, forever is going to start tonight.”
 
“Forever?” Beau’s mouth suddenly felt dry, unlike his pants. “That’s not right, you’d said you’d make things right!”
 
“I said we’d only be making things right. We. I’m not alone, Beau. Not anymore, I’m no longer lonely, or lost, or in the dark. Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I’m only falling apart…”
 
A crash of thunder shook the building, like a pair of giant cymbals in the sky. The small, unfinished space suddenly felt more foreboding than before, with Holly not looking or acting like Holly. There was too much strange going on, unbelievably strange.
 
“Give me a second chance,” his voice squeaked as he pressed the issue, but Holly seemed in a far off place, placid and calm, listless and dreaming.
 
“Alright, fine.” Holly conceded him a chance to run, which only meant she got a chance to chase. “You have ten seconds to get out of the store, then I’ll come after you, and if I catch you… you’ll be sucking your thumb, wetting your pants, trying to do the doo-doo dance… and become *poof* a baby forever.”
 
Beau backed away from Holly, fully believing every crazy word from her mouth, not interested in the least on testing her honesty on the matter. He took one step, then another, then broke towards the bathroom door at full speed.

....

[direking]

Thanks for reading.

....................

Part 7: Total Eclipse of the Heart

 

A baby, forever.
 
That was an awful long time to sit in poop pants, and that nasty ‘forever’ was coming for him in exactly 10-Mississippi.
 
Beau had no choice but to believe Holly; as strange as it sounded, it had to be true.
 
Maybe she actually could ‘transform’ him into a baby.
 
How that all worked went beyond his intelligence, but its plausibility was a testament to how much his reality had been twisted by just a few hours at 'Ma' Webbers.
 
In his defense, his reasoning was sound. The formerly mousy girl had made him wet his pants with just her words and had been a personal disc-jockey in his head. She was probably at fault for the spinning store and guilty conscience bullcrap as well.
 
On top of that, she’d made him very-fucking-scared.
 
There was still hope. Hope that came in the form of ten seconds. She'd given him a chance to get away, which was her mistake.
 
Beau Taylor was an expert at running away from things: any kind of commitment, social responsibility, roided-up defensive lineman. The many hours in the weight room, plus hundreds of laps around the track, were all for this moment. The college schollie wasn't heading his way — only Holly, and her 'forever'.
 
A haunting piano melody began to play as soon as Beau broke through the bathroom door.
 
The speakers squealed out his final swan song: 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'.
 
A power ballad brought to you by the raspy voice of Bonnie Tyler, but she hadn’t started singing yet. It began with the tension-ratcheting spine-tingling piano, slow moving synthesizer, and the overpowering white noise of dread. He ran in slow motion down the aisle, his face pained with regret, his heart slamming in his chest.
 
The background male vocals started to sing.
 
(Turn Around)
 
Next came Bonnie Tyler, and her breaking, pleading voice.
 
Every now and then
I get a little bit lonely
And you're never coming round
 
One-Mississippi. Two-Mississippi. He counted to himself - he had ten seconds to get away, or Ten-Mississippi.
 
Even the world moved sluggishly around him, like he caught the earth on a weekend long bender. He ran as fast as he could from Holly. To where? Not a clue.
 
The storm wreaked havoc on the power, and the flickering lights gave the room an eerie candelabra effect. It all reminded him of a haunted house, or in this case, a haunted baby store. Everything was flashing, confusing, shadows creeped and crawled, the loss of electricity plunged the once vibrant store into unnatural darkness.
 
Which way towards the door? Where was everyone else? The store was empty. No Tracy. No 'Ma' Webber. No mom. No Christine.
 
The diaper aisle glowed as he sprinted by, Beau immediately spotted the empty spot where a Luvs Deluxe box was missing. Christine had betrayed him, or did she? He really hoped that Christine wouldn't be a part of this kind of evil, that she wouldn’t do this to him.
 
Then he remembered how Christine pushed him away before she grabbed onto that diaper box. She’d made her choice then and there; Christine wasn’t going to help him. Whatever the case, there was no point in reflecting on it now, either way this ended, it'd work itself out. Hopefully, in his favor.
 
(Turn Around)
Every now and then I get a little bit tired
Of listening to the sound of my tears
 
Three-Mississippi. Four-Mississippi.
 
Beau picked up speed, cutting into an aisle of onesies, all of many kinds and colors, he spotted some that came in his size.
 
He pumped his arms and legs, his converses made squeaky noises on the beige tile floor.
 
Beau was fast — an athlete in his absolute prime, capable of a sub 5 second forty yard dash in full pads. If anyone could get away from this, it was Beau Taylor.
 
He kept his head on a swivel, just like coach taught; but instead of watching for oncoming defenders, his eyes searched for an angry teenage girl in the dark. He raced down an aisle of baby food without checking behind him, Holly would soon follow, and he did not want to find out what she'd do if she caught him.
 
(Turn Around)
Every now and then I get a little bit nervous
That the best of all the years have gone by
 
It was all coming at him so fast, the flickering lights, the soulful song. Beau was running without looking, changing directions without warning, and then there was the pounding music, the surrounding darkness, the life-threatening fear.
 
He cut too quickly around a corner, sliding to a stop, then course correcting to run full speed again. Then something grabbed him at his ankle, sending him crashing into the polished tile floor. He winced on the ground, grabbing the arm that broke his fall, rolling out the pain that shot up and down his back.
 
Beau looked to see what tripped him. There was nothing but shadows and darkness.
 
(Turn Around)
Every now and then I get a little bit terrified
And then I see the look in your eyes
 
Five-Mississippi.
 
Oh, hell. It'd been more than ten seconds. He was just lying to himself at this point.
 
He needed to change the play, call an audible, and he returned to his mental huddle.
 
Beau closed his eyes and collected himself, taking one deep breath, then another. He'd need all the oxygen in his muscles to run again, he massaged his hurt shoulder as the song kicked into gear. The intensity of the storm followed suit, the wicked winds rattled the steel frame of the building, making the flickering lights sway back and forth.
 
He opened his bright blue eyes.
 
(Turn Around, Bright Eyes)

Every now and then I fall apart
 
(Turn Around, Bright Eyes)
 
Every now and then I fall apart
 
Beau searched his surroundings for any hint, any clue, any direction, any hope to find his bearings; but what he saw killed any sense of hope, stabbing it right in its beating heart.
 
Impossible. Unfair. Cheating.
 
After all of that running, Beau was still in the diaper aisle, the end opposite of the women’s restroom. Just twenty yards from where he started, just twenty fucking yards! He’d turned aisles, changed lanes and still… still… Holly would be out any 'Mississippi' now.
 
He had to get back onto his feet, he had to keep running, but the terror became an anchor, keeping him glued to the tile floor.
 
The pounding rhythm of the house drum spanked his brain into submission, and right on cue, the swinging door to the bathroom shot open, revealing a crimson swimming glow that turned the whole aisle red.
 
Amongst the bleeding light was a specter of a young girl, a shadow of a human being, a ghost of an angry teenager: Holly. An invisible wind buffeted her skirt and sent her long hair waving behind. She held her arms outstretched, palms open, then she began to raise them above her head.
 
Whatever she was planning on doing, it wasn't going to be good for Beau.
 
He panted from the cold ground, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
 
What other words could he use? 'Fuck' applied to everything simultaneously, it spelled out his fear, and his need to overcome it. He tried to climb to his feet, only to stumble from the spinning room, falling back onto his hands and knees.
 
Beau watched Holly gather herself, swaying back and forth, spinning her wrists in the air like a stoned hippie. It was like he was watching a teenage girl dancing in her bedroom, with nobody watching as the tape deck was dialed to eleven. It was strange and voyeuristic.
 
A familiar second voice joined the one on the track, the one that scratched the back of his brain and tickled his conscience. He instantly recognized the second voice as the one that had tugged at him all night. It wasn’t Bonnie Tyler — it was Holly! She was singing along, making a second song of her own, her little voice was the discordant extra layer that messed with his mind. Beau was certain that’s what made the place spin around.
 
How could Holly make the world spin with just her singing voice?
 
He finally knew that answer: Holly was a siren.
 
In senior English class, they had to read an old story about this Greek guy who had to get home from a war to stop a dozen dudes from screwing his wife.
 
That part didn't matter.
 
What mattered was that on page 146 there was a picture of a siren — and her carefully drawn titties. Beau didn't read the story, but he was literate enough for the caption. He knew all about this big breasted monster woman who would sing songs from her island, and make the sailors go batshit with guilt, or love, or hate, or anything that would make them crash onto the rocks.
 
And that's what Beau was doing, crashing onto rocks.
 
Holly pirouetted in place, arms wide, circling in a spot like a novice ballerina; then she shuffled and swayed from side to side. Holly was as uncoordinated as ever, but now wasn't the time to judge her dancing; plus, the fact that she wasn't exactly moving full speed to chase him was 'very concerning' to say the least.
 
The music gave her strength, just as much as it sapped Beau. The steady beat, heavy synthesizer, and longing piano shook his bones. An eerie force swam around Holly, wrapping her in a dark red aura, flecks of scarlet appeared in the blackness around her, as she pleaded the Voices beyond the Mirror for aid. 
 
And I need you now tonight
And I need you more than ever
And if you only hold me tight
We'll be holding on forever
And we'll only be making it right
'Cause we'll never be wrong
 
Beau could see the tiny outline of her toes, the tips of her feet beautifully tracing the ground. Then his heart stopped as they left the floor, as she was in the air, and it became something else entirely.
 
Oh, double hell.
She wasn't dancing.
She was floating.
 
Holly reached her hands out towards Beau, skinny fingers dangling, menacing shadows covering her face, but not her glowing red eyes. The chorus reached its crescendo as she descended towards him.
 
Together we can take it to the end of the line
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time
I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks
 
Holly hovered down the aisle that twisted and turned, she stood out as an oncoming shadow against the red glow.
 
Beau's face crumpled like a crushed can. "Oh, man!"
 
It only got worse. As the flecks of floating crimson, the color of translucent blood, turned into pairs of red eyes that darted in the dark. Of course, they sang along in the chorus.
 
Holly screeched, "I really need you, tonight!"
 
FOREVER'S GONNA START TONIGHT
FOREVER'S GONNA START TONIGHT
 
The faceless ones sang in unison, a choir of lost voices rising in tandem, echoing against the frames of the large building, shaking the roof, sparks rained down from shattering light bulbs, as the place came alive around him. The entire store seemed to turn into a living, breathing sound system. 
 
This was not how he expected his escape to go. This wasn't how it was supposed to end for the good guy; but in this story, was Beau the good guy? He didn't know. He didn't want to stretch his brain that far.
 
Thankfully, the music returned to its softer state, back to the piano as the store once again quieted. She was only ten feet or so away, but she slowed to a stop, the invisible wind ripped at her frail frame. 
 
Holly lingered on Beau for a moment. The old Holly. The one that existed before he wrecked her life, the one that he knew before last Sunday. She was vulnerable and scared, her words uttered from trembling lips, the red light in her eyes long gone. All she did was stare through him, and he knew just what kind of monster that she saw.
 
Once upon a time I was falling in love
Now I'm only falling apart
There's nothing I can do
A total eclipse of the heart
 
Once upon a time there was light in my life
But now there's only love in the dark
Nothing I can say
A total eclipse of the heart
 
Then her eyes glowed again. And the chase was on.
 
Beau tried to climb to his feet, but he slipped, and again crashed hard to the floor.
 
He groaned, "You've got to be kidding me."
 
His ability to run was now gone.
 
A heavy drum line kicked him from his stupor, straining organ notes blasted his eardrums — he had to keep moving, somehow, someway.
 
Beau crawled from his spot, that's what he did, he crawled.
 
The vertigo sensation was too much for him to stand, so he'd have to scurry his way free on all fours. Beau scrambled around a corner on his knees and elbows. The new mode of moving seemed to be working, since he was finally free of the diaper aisle.
 
He was doing whatever it took to get away from Holly, and the crawling proved to be the perfect counter to whatever her siren shit was doing to his brain.
 
Of course, he recognized that crawling on the ground was exactly the thing a baby would do, but the threat of vertigo wasn’t affecting him when he moved like this, and he had to get away. Plus, no one was watching? Or…
 
Beau certainly felt like he was being watched. The feeling came from the shadows, just beyond his eyesight. He recognized how it felt, he knew what it was like to be under lights on Friday nights, surrounded by a stadium of adoring fans, chanting his name, willing him to succeed.
 
However, 'Ma' Webber’s baby store was something more like a visitor's stadium. Where everyone, and everything, wished for his failure.
 
Beau crawled down the middle aisle to see another landmark, to where the big crib with the football sheets sat exactly where it was supposed to be. He kept crawling to get past it, maybe even get to the door and get out of here.
 
Stupid footballs. On those bottles, on the bed sheets, and that actual stuffed football. It was so obvious; but at the same time, still so unbelievable.
 
A new sales tag hung from one of the bedposts, white and small, a rectangle with writing on it. Beau didn't want to read it, trying to keep his head down as he crawled as fast as he could, the organ solo loudly slamming against the sides of his head.
 
He wouldn’t read it.
He shouldn’t read it.
Curiosity got the better of him.
 
Beau read the sales tag: RESERVED FOR BEAU TAYLOR
 
Somehow, that's what made it all feel real.
 
He screamed, "NO! NO!"
 
His voice cracked in the empty air, as if his denial would put a stop to this nightmare. Beau clutched onto the sides of the crib as the room swayed to the music. He found a way to wrap both mittens into the bars of the crib, then began to shake them, they were unnaturally strong.
 
He began to cry.
 
It was okay to cry in moments like this, no one was judging him, this was not a knock on his manliness. It wasn't fucking fair, he didn't deserve this. Not him. Not Beau Taylor. Shit like this was supposed to happen to someone else, dweebs like Monster or Handley. Beau was the fucking hero. He was going to win this; he'd throw the game winning hail mary, and get carried off the field, and into the backseat with one of the girlfriends of the other team. Not go into the dark quietly like a pussy.
 
He wiped his tears free with the mittens. Then toughened up.
 
With newfound resolve, Beau glared at the end of the middle aisle, at the lone oversized changing table. It was menacing, just sitting there in the spotlight, the exact place where his fate was set in stone with Holly when he wouldn't admit what he had done. A baby blue 'It's a boy' balloon tied to its corner, decorations for a soon-to-be baby shower.
 
And there was Holly, quietly waiting for him to give in, to give up, to climb up on that table and begin his 'forever' penitence.
 
It was only the two of them, Holly and Beau. ‘Mono y mono’, but the siren sang in stereo. One set of speakers were attached to the walls and ceiling, the other on the inside of his head. The steady beat slammed into him. It matched the pounding rhythm of his heart, the raucous rhythm of the thunder outside.
 
TURN AROUND, BRIGHT EYES
 
Beau turned his head.
 
The only other way out was the hall of mirrors, the ones covered by black cloth, the ones he'd been dreading all night.
 
TURN AROUND, BRIGHT EYES
 
Beau took the song’s advice, quickly turning to the aisle of covered mirrors. It all made him sick to his stomach, his heart couldn't beat any faster as he crawled for his life.
 
A flash of lightning lit up the sky, followed by the sound-breaking thunder.  The pounding drums seemed to be in tune with the storm outside, cracks of thunder sounding in rhythm with its steady beat. Thunder so loud that it shook the canvas free from its mirrors. The canvas curtains all slipped to the floor revealing everything.
 
And Beau saw his glowing eyes.
 
And he saw many others, too.
 
All with sickening red eyes, somewhat familiar faces inside the mirror, mouths open, singing along to this terrifying soundtrack. A choir from another world providing back up vocals for Holly.
 
But that wasn’t all he saw. The ones behind the mirror changed his reflection. What looked back at him was hardly Beau, it was him, but it was a different him.
 
As he crawled, Beau stared into his mirror image.
 
Beau was a giant eighteen year old baby, crawling on all fours, pacifier in his mouth, t-shirt and a diaper. The thick white wearable potty taped at his hips, it shook back and forth as he kept crawling away. He didn’t want to look at himself, but there he was, the Lover Boy could never get enough of his good looks. This time his reflection was for him, and he couldn’t peel his eyes away.
 
Ghostly hands made of mist tried to grab him from through the mirror. Beau felt their cold touch as their hooked fingers grasped him from beyond, slowing him down by tugging at his arms and legs, yanking his ankle a time or two. Young and strong, Beau broke through their ethereal tackles.
 
TURN AROUND, BRIGHT EYES
 
Every now and then I fall apart
 
TURN AROUND, BRIGHT EYES
 
Every now and then I fall apart
 
The crawling had slowed Beau down, and Holly the siren was right behind him.
 
Beau again tried to stand, but the building lurched to a stop, like it hit the brakes, sending him reeling onto the floor. The hard tile did little to break his fall, he didn’t have time to nurse his wounds, he only scrambled faster as the eyes seemed to follow him to the sounds of the final chorus.
 
The song was reaching its climax, with Beau almost through the mirrored aisle, while Holly slowly made her way behind him. He didn’t have to look, he could feel her there.

And I need you now tonight
AND I NEED YOU AND I NEED YOU
And I need you more than ever
And if you only hold me tight
IF YOU ONLY
We'll be holding on forever
And we'll only be making it right
AND WE'LL NEVER
'Cause we'll never be wrong
 
The world was alive around him, but Beau was almost out of this place, with a few feet left of the aisle of mirrors and only the front of the store between him and freedom. He couldn’t wait to get out the door to ‘reality, sweet, reality’.
 
The long line of cash registers and doors to the outside world was like twenty yards at most. 4th and twenty, and quarterback Beau Taylor would not be denied a new set of downs. A second chance.
 
Holly approached faster from behind, still singing her siren tune, scrambling his brain waves as best as she otherworldly could.
 
Together we can take it to the end of the line
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time
ALL OF THE TIME!
 
The end of the line was just ahead of him, he was almost there, breaking mental and physical tackles and pulling free from their voices. A ghostly hand caught onto him, grabbing him by the sneaker, Beau slammed his heel into its mistiness, and it disappeared. All that was left were the long line of registers, and out the door to ‘reality, sweet reality’.
 
Beau actually smiled. He'd somehow done it, an escape worthy of Houdini.
 
I don’t know what to do
I’m always in the dark
We’re living in a powder keg and giving off sparks

I REALLY NEED YOU TONIGHT!
 
FOREVER'S GONNA START TONIGHT
FOREVER'S GONNA START TONIGHT
 
Then he saw the first person stand in his way. His mom.
 
Normally, a familiar face like his mother would've been a sight to see, but not in Lovington, not at 'Ma' Webbers -- especially not since her eyes were glowing fucking red.
 
Then there was Vanessa, and her blonde hair and big boobs, her eyes were glowing red as well.
 
They weren't alone. More and more 'people' showed up.
 
There were dozens of shadowed humans with red eyes forming between him and the doors outside. He saw Cray-cee Tracy. Corrie Anne and her stupid smock. The guy who gave him free donuts for being a high school QB. The guy who gave him free beer. His 7th grade teacher, Mrs. Hawkins. The lady who owned the biggest daycare in town. The sheriff and his freaking hot redhead deputy that had ‘legs for days’. Some of the eggheads from the science lab in the middle of town, he recognized them by their long white lab coats. The old mayor. The new mayor. Other kids from school, Beau saw Jake Thompson, the class president of 1988, the only kid cooler than Beau. A pair of cheerleaders that he'd had in the back seat of the bird after a winning game. One at a time, of course.
 
There were so many that he thought he knew. Well, he knew most of them. Beau had seen their faces at restaurants, playing at the park, or shopping at the grocery store, and they even wished him good luck at his games.
 
It was like an entire side of Lovington was there at his send off. They were there for the baby shower… his baby shower.

Beau thought it was a bad idea to go crawling around their legs so he wobbled onto his feet. The entire world spun, but he could power through it, just ten yards at the most. Just ten yards.
 
Unfortunately, the crowd closed ranks, forming a wall to stop him.
 
“Come on!” He cried out as he tried to push his way through. “I can get out! I can get out!”
 
The shadows ignored his desperate pleas. They only converged. Zombie humans to the last one of them. Cold and broken, lacking basic free will. They mumbled in unison:
 
FOREVER'S GONNA START TONIGHT
FOREVER'S GONNA START TONIGHT
 
They formed a human chain keeping Beau in Lovington. Forever. The small town that loved their football hero.
 
Undeterred, Beau again sprinted into them. Red Rover, Red Rover, Let Beau Taylor Come Over. 
 
This time the game clock hit zero as their line held, and their hands wrapped around him, they grabbed him by his shirt, ripped his brown hair, tore at his wet blue jeans, fingers wrapped around his ankles, gripped at his red converses as they lifted him from the floor. Beau became a fly in a spider's web, and the black widow was named Holly. She seemed to be waiting for the end of the song to do her magic. Christine was right - they wouldn't let them leave. The 'they' wouldn't save him from being a baby, so he'd have to save himself. It wasn’t over until it was over.
 
So he struggled in vain.
 
He extended his hands like he would extend the ball across the line to get, but the webbing of arms proved to be too strong. He was done now, it was all over except for the crying. And Beau was crying, sobbing, screaming, yelling, pulling. There was nothing more he could do, Beau was altogether helpless, a feeling he'd have to get used to during his 'forever'.
 
'Total Eclipse of the Heart' was coming to a terrible end. The haunting piano drifted through the building, he felt a cold presence, indicating that Holly was right behind him, as her voice was the only one that he heard.
 
Once upon a time there was light in my life
But now there's only love in the dark
Nothing I can say
A total eclipse of the heart
 
A total eclipse of the heart
A total eclipse of the heart
 
Beau didn't want to turn around, no matter what the song pleaded. Not him. Not even with his 'bright eyes'. So the town did it for him, rotating him around with the dozens of hands that held him in place, like a sacrificial offering to the Mousy Demon.
 
Holly was there, her 'forever' tucked away in an extended forefinger pressed to his head.
 
Beau had lost. Everything.
 
She said one final word, "Poof."
 
-------------------------------

[direking]

Thanks for joining me on this crazy 80s journey! Here is the end of Beau’s fun night, and the start of his new forever.

——————————

Chapter 8: The New Forever

Beau opened his bright eyes to a normal baby store, or as normal as 'Ma' Webbers could have been.
 
He found himself flat on the ground in the middle of an aisle, legs and arms spread, a semi-conscious starfish trying to come to grips with the nightmare that was the last two hundred-or-so Mississippi.
 
Soft muzak played from the speakers above; normal muzak, the typical relaxing stuff, songs that didn’t have hidden tracks sung by teenage sirens. The song was a much calmer version of ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart’ played by baby instruments, tinkling high notes from a xylophone chimed ‘forever’s gonna start tonight’.
 
The atmosphere was completely different. There was no storm. No flashing lights. No aisles of mirrors.
 
Only mommies. And babies.
 
He saw them with their shopping carts, the many mommies, and their many babies. The little ones riding around with their chubby cheeks, the smaller varieties propped up in the tiny booster seats, while bigger toddlers cradled the sides of the wire baskets, their mouths either dumbly hung open or stuffed silent by pacifiers.
 
He remained on the ground.
It was all a dream.
A bad dream.
 
The wetness in the pants begged to differ. He felt the cold and damp denim clinging to the insides of his thighs. The potty accident was real. The zombie town wasn't. All things considered, Beau would take that exchange.
 
He pressed his mitten covered hands against the stained jeans, maybe he could rub it out like a grass stain, or pad himself dry. No dice.
 
Beau crawled up from the floor, taking a seat on the beige tile.
 
His face felt funny. His cheeks felt loose and strangely slack, his mouth hung open, his lips wet from saliva. He felt like a mouth breathing goober, just like the babies and toddlers in the carts. He rubbed at his face with his mittens, not sure of the cause, but his face felt very wrong.
 
It was then that Beau tried to get to his feet, only to stumble back to the ground. His legs proved too weak to fight the overpowering woozy feeling that hit when he stood. He would try again, and he would fall again.
 
He needed help standing up. That was okay. If he could manage to get on his feet by himself it would count as a big win. He scanned his immediate surroundings and spotted an aisle of shelving and product. Maybe he could use the shelves as a ladder, climb to his feet, then get the hell out of town. At least, that was the plan.
 
Plastic bottles and colorful sippy cups beckoned him from a few yards away. Beau slowly crawled to them, hoping that no one was watching him wallow in ineptitude. He reached out with his mittens, and struggled to pull himself to his feet, one shelf at a time. It took a lot out of him, just like with his legs, the strength in his arms seemed to fail - he was so, so heavy. How the hell had he suddenly turned so heavy? Or gotten so weak?
 
After a worse second and a better third try, Beau managed to get himself up to his feet, but he was panting and breathing hard. He held himself upright for a brief moment, then without warning, the world tilted to his right, sending him into the shelving and toppling over dozens of plastic bottles and even more sippy cups to the tile floor.
 
The fall sounded like a strike from a bowling alley, and the noise was loud enough for the whole store to hear of his clumsiness.
 
Beau lay frozen among the fallen bottles and sippy cups, as concerned shoppers converged on him.
 
They all stared at him.
Him and his wet pants.
Him and his doofy-feeling face.
Him and his mistakes.
 
Vanessa, and her blonde hair and her bright pink halter top that pushed the ta-tas together, appeared from around the corner. So did his mom, followed by Miss Webber, her minions Corrie Ann and Tracy.
 
Beau was conscious of the many others, real moms with concerned faces, their dumb-faced babies watching him with wide eyes.
 
A group of three girls his own age came as well. He recognized them as the ones that liked his 'Lover Boy' tattoo on his ass earlier this afternoon. They didn't have the same look as before, they lacked the tell-tale yearning. No, their young faces told only of their pity, and of their shared empathy from watching something fall apart in front of them.
 
“Is that Beau Taylor?” A cute brunette from the group wondered aloud. "Didn't he used to be the quarterback of the football team?"
 
"Yes, he was the starting quarterback, but that was before the accident," Mrs. Taylor answered them, as serious as a heart attack. "Beau hasn't been the same since the accident. I’m afraid his football days are over.”
 
Accident? The car accident where he wrecked the Bird, or was she talking about the fact that he pissed himself? Beau went to speak, but no words came out. Only a dribble of syllables and ribbons of drool. Holly had somehow done this to him. Where was that mousy bitch?
 
He again tried to talk, but it only came out as baby babble.
 
Beau felt the heat from their stares as he realized that he was unable to express himself with his words. Panic set in, he had another anxiety attack. Beau flapped his hands in the air as he loudly groaned in frustration, which only made them stare even more.
 
Vanessa slowly approached him like he was a cornered animal. "It's all going to be okay, Beau."
 
No, it wasn't going to be fucking okay. He'd had about a minute of 'forever' and that was enough to last a lifetime. He glared at her with his wild eyes as his entire body shook.
 
"Beau made a lot of mistakes," his mom continued, loud and proud of her defective son. "His biggest: drinking and driving. I bet Beau wishes he could take things back now.”
 
The car accident wasn't his biggest mistake - not by a long-shot. Although, she was on target about taking things back.
 
The real truth didn’t matter, as the trio of girls looked from him to his ridiculously calm mom. The teens did a good job nodding along, showing the proper concern on their faces, mentally taking notes from the heavy-handed life lesson. One girl had tears in her eyes. Same with Beau.
 
It quickly got awkward and quiet, and they all looked between one another, waiting for whatever would happen next.
 
He hated that they saw him this way.
 
Beau knew his vacant face looked stupid, because it felt stupid, this kind of face better belonged with the ones in the carts, not with the mommies who pushed them around.
 
He tried once again to get away, but Vanessa was there to hold him in place. She was so strong, too. His ex-girlfriend manhandled him against her thighs, bringing him to his feet beside herself. She cruelly smiled at him, then jostled him by the shoulders, before looking up and down his front and backside.
 
What was going on?
 
Beau froze as her hand reached around to squeeze his bottom, then went straight to tugging on his junk through his blue jeans.
 
"Mrs. Taylor?" Vanessa grabbed his mom's attention. "He's wet, again."
 
Beau wanted to crawl into a hole and die, especially since she announced his wet pants to everyone that showed up. He tried pulling free from her hold, but she kept him firmly by her side, in the invisible spotlight of staring eyes.
 
His mom gently smiled. "Well, that's why we're here, sweetie."
 
"Does he do that... a lot?" asked the cute brunette. "Like mess himself?"
 
Her two friends shot daggers at her, and the blonde one with bushy hair swiftly spoke to chastise.
 
"Chelsea, what the heck? Don't be so rude."
 
"It's okay to ask questions," Mrs. Taylor addressed her answer to the gathering onlookers. "Beau lost a lot of his mental and physical strength from the accident. In a lot of ways, Beau is just like a baby. He can't find joy in the things he used to do, only frustration. So we're going to give him what he needs -- in fact, that's why we're here. 'Ma' Webber is nice enough to give us everything we need now. He just loves the baby stuff so much that we want to throw him a little party."
 
"Awww!" chorused the trio of girls. They looked at him differently then, with added adoration and a little less pity, but he felt more shame from their stares.
 
Elizabeth 'Ma' Webber approached from behind and pushed her way through the small forming crowd. The bulwark of a woman looked down at Beau with the same goading face from when they first met. Yeah, he had to admit to himself, she may have won this battle, and probably the war, too. If the war went on forever.
 
"We're about to close up early today for Beau's special party," Miss Webber gleefully announced. "We have balloons, and presents, and everything. We also have a little boy that needs to be cleaned up."
 
The moms gave knowing smiles after looking at Beau, taking their own kiddos away from the excitement. The girls found better places to be, since it was clear that Beau needed privacy. He was jealous of their ability to leave, being able to just walk away from Beau and the baby bottles, each talking excitedly about moving on with their lives, which wouldn't happen for him. He hung loosely from Vanessa, his ex-girlfriend, or whatever she was now in his new life.
 
Corrie Anne and Tracy worked their way through the leaving people, joining 'Ma' Webber at her side. He also spotted Holly and Christine as the crowd dispersed, the latter had her arms still wrapped around the pack of diapers.
 
Holly tapped Christine on the shoulder, before sliding in for a more insistent whisper. The mousy girl looked less scary in the light, even after knowing that she was a monster in the dark, and an awful singer.
 
Christine quickly passed the baby blue box of Luvs to his mom, who excitedly ripped through the plastic packaging to reveal a baby blue diaper. The awful moment seemed to last, as the air suddenly turned stale and hard to breathe. The surrounding women stared at him and the folded, Beau-sized Luvs Deluxe; Vanessa and his mom, Miss Webber and her gang of two, Holly and her hostage Christine, all stood silent for a few long seconds.
 
Then his mom said, "Alright, Beau. It's time."
 
Beau quickly found himself surrounded. They made a small circle around him, it tightened and tightened until there was no space at all. The pent up anger and fear made itself known to him, he was Beau Taylor - not a baby.
 
"No fits, Beau." Vanessa commanded as she started tugging at him. "You need to be a good boy, and let us put you in your diaper.”
 
Yeah, he was not going to be a ‘good boy’. The last time he was a good boy he wet his pants at Holly’s command. Beau was going to throw the biggest fucking fit of his life. He was not going into that diaper without an old fashioned, butt-kicking tantrum. He just wished he had his old strength, he'd toss that bitch aside and do the same to the other five women. 
 
He lashed out at Vanessa first.
 
Beau brushed her away with his mitten hands, before bringing his elbows down across her forearms. Vanessa howled as she pulled away, her face returned to his - her eyes fiercely glowing. He leapt away but she caught him by the wrist, he wrapped his hand around hers and tugged and tugged until they all descended upon him.
 
He could only guess who had him grabbed by where. The strong hands, unrelenting and experienced, belonged to ‘Ma’ Webber. The smaller ones, quick and stealthy, that had to be Tracy or Corrie Anne. Vanessa punched and slapped, she did less to undress him and more to inflict pain. And she did just that. His mom had the diaper in one hand, the other tugged at the waist of his pants. Beau would have liked to think that he could win, but the odds were stacked against him, and his shirt was already halfway free from his body as they took him up from the floor.
 
Christine pleaded from outside the fray, he could tell that she'd been crying. Good, he hoped that guilt felt as bad as the knife to his back.
 
“Don’t fight them, Beau!” Christine yelled and tried pulling away from Holly. “Just make it easier.”
 
"Shut up!" Holly snapped and grabbed her by the chin. "You made your deal, now you will watch."
 
Beau only glared back at the girl who betrayed him; they all betrayed him, only Christine was the worst.
 
Eventually, each domino fell. The first, his mom managed to unbutton his pants and they started falling to his thighs, which made him lose his balance. This shift in momentum was enough to pull his shirt over head. He yanked it back down to be met by a hand over his mouth - the second domino, a pacifier with a thick bulb. Once it was between his lips, he could never spit it out.
 
In less than a minute, they had managed to push him to the edge of the waiting changing table. That’s when they toppled him over and onto the padding. The final domino came as the restraining straps were rigged over his arms and chest, then he was at their mercy.
 
The group of gals circled him for a moment, trying to see what he would do next. There wasn’t much he could do, besides breathe hard and scream into his pacifier gag, which he did both.
 
His mom ran her hand through his hair. “Calm down, baby.”
 
He violently shook his head, hot tears forming in his bright eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not to Beau Taylor.
 
Mrs. Taylor dropped a curled finger to his cheek. “Shhhh, baby.”
 
Beau groaned as he tried to escape her gruesome touch.
 
“He loves his wittle dummy. Yes, he does!” His mom got away with a gentle pinch of the cheek. “Wonderful, wonderful. He’s just as I dreamed him to be, so sweet and precious with no more naughty back talk.”
 
“I knew you’d find him more ‘agreeable’ this way,” said Miss Webber, she watched everything unfold from a short distance. “A word of advice: Keep doing what you’re doing, be sweet and kind, but don’t be afraid of punishing him either - otherwise, he’ll be naughty again.”
 
His mom seemed to take that advice to heart, softly patting his cheek as he helplessly stared back.
 
“There we go, Beau,” Vanessa cajoled him. “Let’s get you nice and ready for a fresh diaper.”
 
His mom agreed. “Yes, he needs lovey-baby care now.”
 
Beau couldn’t disagree more.
 
As Mrs. Taylor repositioned herself at his legs, Beau attempted a kick at her. Mostly with two or three red converse swings to stave off the inevitable. He did the same at Vanessa as she got into range. His kicks didn’t slow them one bit.
 
Corrie Anne shot out from Ma Webber’s side, but the older woman halted her with a beefy arm. "Let them figure it out. They always do."
 
Vanessa raised a finger at him. "Beau, don't be bad."
 
He wasn't being bad, he was standing up for himself, while on his back and tied to a changing table. He wouldn't go down quietly, he grunted against the pacifier in his mouth. His pants were already at his knees, effectively tying his legs together. It wasn't looking good for team Beau at the moment.
 
Vanessa hooked her fingers into the waistline of his wet underwear, sliding them down to join his pants. His newly exposed bottom the cause for squeals, “oooh’s”and “aah's”, same with his 'Lover Boy' tattoo.
 
"I didn't even know he had that on his sweet, little bum-bum!" His mom offered the group, as they continued to laugh.
 
Beau rolled his eyes. He did not have a sweet, little bum-bum. He kicked at Vanessa another time in retaliation, but she caught his leg before he could do any damage.
 
"How about I get this first one, Mrs. Taylor?" Vanessa said as she looked Beau in the eyes. "I think it will be easier for me, I think he used to like me... a lot."
 
"I'm not so sure," replied Mrs. Taylor. Nervous energy sent her for the pack of cigarettes in her back pocket, only to find them not there.
 
Holly spoke over them, "Vanessa should do the first one. Mrs. Taylor, you're going to get plenty of diaper changes, trust me."
 
The women all cackled together at his expense. There was nothing he could do but take the abuse.
 
Beau watched them unfurl the bulky Luvs diaper. It was baby blue with pinstripes, featuring a thirsty thick rectangle that sat at its crotch, his pee target for the 'triangles'. He saw how it would be held against his waist by a pair of flimsy tapes. The question arose: What was stopping him from ripping off that diaper every time they put it on him? He figured there would be some magic ju-ju to stop him. Just like with the pacifier firmly planted between his lips.
 
"Lift your legs, Beau," Vanessa commanded with matronly authority. "Unless you want me to do it for you."
 
He kept his legs flat atop the padded table; he would protest as much as he could, even if it wouldn't lead to any different results. Vanessa was going to have to do it for him.
 
His mom squealed, "He's just like he was when he was three."
 
"Recalcitrant?" asked 'Ma' Webber.
 
His mom nodded to the older woman.
 
"My little Beau always had a little mind of his own, had to do things his way, but we saw what happened at the end of that road. It's time we started over with him. That doesn't mean that I don't appreciate his cute little rebellious spirit. That sweet child of mine."
 
Beau halfway expected the Guns and Roses song to play from the overhead speakers, but it didn't, thankfully not ruining yet another good song with the madness of this place. He tried one more time to wiggle free. He squirmed under the belts across his belly, they kept his arms to his sides, he knew it was probably a useless gesture, but it was worth testing.
 
When she got her death grip hold of his feet, Vanessa raised his ankles to her shoulders, and she slid the diaper underneath him. His wee-wee laid free and exposed, soon to be covered by the soft rain of baby powder. Next came the flimsy tapes that she slowly stretched across his crotch. He was right, they held firm from magic ju-ju, just like the pacifier between his lips, and the super strong crib bars.
 
“Mrs. Taylor?” Holly called out from a few feet away. “I think Miss Webber needs some last minute help with setting up decorations.”
 
His mom questioned, “She does?”
 
“Yes, absolutely.” Holly flashed her red eyes at Beau’s mom. “You’ll find her in the office in the back, take your time, and don’t get lost.”
 
Mrs. Taylor gave Beau one last look, then for some reason, his mom scowled at Vanessa as she followed orders towards the back of the store.
 
Holly beamed at Vanessa as his mom left, and Beau suddenly felt more vulnerable than ever. This was the beginning of something bad, or something worse. The mousy girl reached for something beneath the table, pulling out a small jar of petroleum jelly.
 
His eyes suddenly went wide as she opened the jar and handed it to Vanessa.
 
“Hi, Beau.” Holly leaned over him, talking softly so no one else could hear. “Are you ready to learn something? The word of the day is ‘No’ — I imagine you’re going to be using it a lot, so say it with me: ‘No’, ‘No’… I can’t hear you, Beau.”
 
He shook his head and screamed it through his pacifier, but the two girls were going to do what they wanted with him, they had that kind of power.
 
Holly clicked her lips together, before baby-talking, “We don’t want our poor baby unhappy, do we?”
 
Vanessa smirked. “No, we don’t.”
 
His ex-girlfriend crimped her hand into a hook, scooping up a glob of jelly, then she looked deep into his eyes. Beau knew that jelly-hand was going into his diaper, and there was nothing he could do about it. He squirmed under the straps.
 
Then, Holly called out to something beyond his head turning radius, “Girls, come here quick.”
 
Beau frowned when he saw the trio of girls from before, the bushy haired blonde, the cute brunette, and their quiet friend. They formed ranks next to Holly and Vanessa beside the changing table.
 
“You guys, too.” Holly motioned from the other direction. “Beau is going to show us how much he loves his diapers.”
 
Some of the cute cashiers made their way to the table, each sharing a slight grin and flushed cheeks. This wasn’t going to be good, at all. In a few seconds, Beau found himself surrounded by the pretty girls he loved so much. The three from before, plus five or six from the long line of cute cashiers… then came Christine, the latter wearing an confused expression of terror and shame.
 
“Yeah, it’s time for the show,” snarked Holly. “Christine needs to see what she’s going to be missing while she’s away.”
 
They formed a huddle around him, poor Christine pushed to the forefront, so she could see every bit of his suffering. Her eyes haunted him. Did Holly say she was going away? That was impossible. Lovington formed an inhuman chain to keep him here, Christine said… she said she’d been trying to get out of Lovington…
 
Vanessa undid the tapes on his diaper with murderous intent, pulling down the front the plastic padding before snaking her hand around his powdered Lover Boy. In a physical sense, her soft touch and slick jelly was exactly the kind of thing Beau was all about. However, this experience went beyond a simple lay; he was trapped and under their control, now they would masturbate him for their entertainment.
 
Even while they dated, Vanessa was hardly gentle. Their times together were dramatic to the point of potential violence. While under Holly’s watch, she was downright rough, taking vengeful glee in her power over him. His ‘Lover Boy’ still responded to her slick hand, growing and growing until fully erect.
 
Just like everything else, his nakedness became an overpowering source of shame, like the pacifier, like the oncoming pleasure. The diaper crinkled beneath him as he wiggled, the steady ‘shishing’ of her moving hand, her cruel smile infecting the other girls, who were all loving this, understanding just what kind of new toy they got to play with.
 
He held out until his final moments, as the forced pleasure became too much to bear. Beau bucked his hips and tightened his abs, much to the delight of his enthralled audience. He finished within the heat of his shame, inside his thirsty diaper, under the smiling faces of the girls. They were all cruel, all in their own feminine ways.
 
Holly handed Vanessa a wet wipe to clean his mess off her hand, but Beau didn’t get that luxury, as he was immediately taped back into his sticky diaper.
 
This couldn’t be happening.
 
He groaned behind his pacifier and turned his body as far as he could from his tormentors. He felt dirty and disgusted, ashamed and defeated. His diaper felt totally gross, much worse than the pee pants, there was still lingering hope in the pee pants. The world around him turned darker, the permanent tunnel vision of disillusionment.
 
“Alright, that was something,” Holly snarked to the group, the jar of petroleum jelly still in hand. “Who wants his next one?”
 
His eyes went wide as a new, sharper pang of terror struck again.
 
Chelsea, the cute brunette, approached the jar of petroleum jelly. Only to have Holly pull it away at the last moment, she was up to something - something bad.
 
“There’s other ways you can have fun with him, you know.” Holly snickered at Beau before turning to address Chelsea. “And it will give us a good look at his tight butt and his cute tattoo. Chelsea, you’re going to want to get two or three fingers greased up for this. First, let’s remove the tapes of his diaper. Come on girls, help me turn him over. Good, good. Now, Beau, this might hurt a little — especially when she uses more fingers. Try to remember to breathe and think of better days, like last Sunday.”
 
His body tightened as he realized what she had planned for the Lover Boy’s back door, but it was far too late. In little time, they had him on his belly, the back of his untaped diaper pulled down, fully exposing his tattoo, among his other vulnerability. There was little he could do but scream. He screamed. He clutched. He begged.
 
Beau found himself shouting the ‘word of the day’ more than once, but no one ever heard him.
………

 
Chapter 9: The Baby Shower

Beau had finally got what he had always wished for: he was the center of attention in a room full of women, the prize of their admiration. Just not in the way the Lover Boy had in mind when he woke up that morning.
 
The party attendees were about thirty in number, all women and girls from his life, some of his mom’s friends, others from his school. They formed a circle around him, and his huge play mat, the guests sitting in plastic chairs accented with colorful ‘It’s a Boy’ balloons. A changing table sat just beyond the ‘circle’, that's where they ripped off his clothes and diapered him. He tried not to look at it too much, but it was there as a monument of his downfall.
 
There were stork shaped cookies and plastic cups of milk. Or for Beau, a plastic bottle with footballs on it. The milk tasted mostly the same it would from a bottle as from a cup, that Beau assured himself many times, but he was hardly convincing. Sucking the teat of a rubber nipple changes a grown man. At least, it changed the way Beau thought of himself.
 
All around, there sat a strange sense of normalcy about this nightmare, Beau and Christine both knew that this wasn't 'real', but what was real? 

He tapped at his exposed diaper, tugged at his 'shirt', then flopped back onto the playmat and wondered why… why… why…
 
Like, why did they dress him like this?
 
His outfit was a mockery of everything Beau Taylor. His football jersey, his red booties, his thick diaper. They didn’t need to quiet him with the pacifier, Beau knew his words wouldn’t work anymore than his useless legs. It was all about adding insult to injury, just like being passed around like a slice of cake, each girl getting a bit of Beau, tearing him apart piece by piece.
 
And what was left? Nothing.
 
His world lacked color and focus, stale and broken, just like his wordless mouth. Beau nursed on the pacifier between his lips, each suckle brought him a strange pleasure. It was pure zen in each suck. A soft tug that removed his ego, pulled his anxieties out via the rubber bulb.
 
So there was ‘something’ he could do about the ‘sucking’. Beau tightened his lips around the pacifier bulb, allowing this new kind of relief to wash over as he watched his own baby shower play out as a diapered observer.
 
In front of him, his mom gleefully opened presents. All wrapped as quickly as he was, and unwrapped, too. Beau had a good idea what each present was, mostly because he saw everything that was in Vanessa's cart before the final song and dance number.
 
Beau watched from the foam play mat, this one was the stuffed football. His mom ripped away the paper to prove him right. Score one for Beau Taylor.
 
Mrs. Taylor held up the padded pigskin for all to see. The response went as expected, with soft claps and gentle coos. They looked at his response to a mockery of his only true love.
 
Vanessa squealed, “Have him hold the stuffed football!”
 
“Have him catch it!” Holly added, then glowered his way.
 
His mom tossed the soft ball into the air, where Beau swung at it with both mittens, only to miss it, and have it bounce off the top of his head as he tumbled back onto the play mat.
 
The girls all laughed. Holly. Corrie Anne. Cray-cee Tracy. Vanessa.
 
All except Christine, who kept her distance, holding a glum watch over the entire affair, tears forming in her eyes. She looked so incredibly tired, worn from the longer than usual day. Beau knew all about the heavy weight of guilt. His lesson was short and confusing, but its message was well-received.
 
Beau made eye contact with her, suckled a pair of times on the pacifier.
 
On one mitten-covered hand, this was all her fault, Christine had betrayed him. He just knew she was hiding something when they spoke before; and now that the secret was out, Beau would have preferred her to just tell him what was coming his way. You know, like friends/side-dishes do. On the other - screw the other hand.
 
Anger broiled up inside of him, and he wanted to hurt her with his eyes.
 
His petty scowling seemed to be working, since Christine found a way to look at everything else besides Beau as they humiliated him. Beau knew that girl, she was dying inside. And good. So, very good. Because Beau was already dead.
 
At this point, the party had devolved into talking around the cookies and milk, Beau already had a second bottle that he was forced to down. This went more smoothly than the first, the cold milk tasted more like milk, and less like a baby bottle.
 
He rolled over to his side on the colorful mat, considering another escape attempt. How fast could Beau crawl? He’d get good at it - eventually. So it was just a matter of time until he could outrun his mom, or whomever they had watching him. Time was on his side during a forever.
 
Beau pensively crawled toward the door, one mitten followed by a tucked knee, making sure he was conscious of watching eyes. More specifically, watching ‘red’ eyes. No one seemed to care, but Beau decided not to push his luck, he thought it better to hide what was left of his athleticism for a time when there were less of them around. That didn’t mean he was giving up, he’d just have to wait for the right time, and that time wasn’t now.
 
Speaking of time, why was everyone just waiting… expecting something.
 
He craned his neck to glean what he could from their conversations.
 
“Yes, we can do this for other ones, too.” Miss Webber explained to a concerned mother who had her back to him. “I understand your concerns, the long hair, the tight jeans, it’s that monstrous heavy metal music… I agree, we don’t know what kind of influence or inspiration that puts in their sweet heads. It’s a shame that children aren’t what they used to be, but that’s why we do what we do.”
 
The mom nodded along then said something softly that Beau couldn’t hear.
 
“Why, yes!” ‘Ma’ Webber exclaimed to the younger mom. “We are available by appointment, as soon as next week. Bring your wayward little boy over, and we’ll have ‘her’ dolled up and diapered in no time.”
 
Beau shuddered. Who knew what that was all about? His attention moved onto greener pastures, to Holly and the gang.
 
Holly had total control over the other teen girls his age. She was now popular; in her words: a ‘somebody’. They laughed at what she said, they smiled when she smiled, and they waited on her every whim. It was strange to watch the always high and mighty Vanessa follow behind like a culled puppy. The dynamic had certainly shifted in a short week, and not just for Beau, for everyone involved.
 
Why weren’t any of them going home?
 
There remained one final humiliation.
 
Beau felt his insides rumble.
 
A clear sign that the decades old iron-tight hold on his continence was beginning to slip. He shifted back and forth on the playmat, finding some comfort in resting on his haunches, his diaper butt sitting atop his red booties. That's how fended off the first few cramps, tightening his body against his belly, using every bit of his solid abs and slightly less tight butt.
 
Beau sucked in some paci, trying to hold out for a time with less of an audience. When was the right time to poop himself? Totally not right now. Pooping yourself was already a bummer, but to do it in front of girls his own age, that was going to be yet another ‘too much’.
 
But like most aspects of his new ‘forever’, he didn't have any control.
 
A second wave of cramps quickly became too much to counter, and Beau began to slowly fill his diaper. No one noticed he was messing until he grunted and pushed, loudly commandeering the room’s attention despite his efforts towards the opposite.
 
However, the other women didn’t seem to mind. They put a stop to conversations, and set aside their snacks, to watch headstrong and beautiful Beau Taylor debase himself.
 
His hands fell to the soft play mat as he arched his back on all fours. A second and third volley came from his bottom, and he gripped the fabric of the baby rug until his fingers turned white. The crying was also out of his control, but it didn’t come from the mind wipe, it came from Beau himself. He was wailing and sobbing as he finished, the party in his honor brought to a sudden stop.
 
“I think Beau made one more present to unwrap,” Mrs. Taylor announced to several giggles.
 
“Christine!” Holly growled. “You know what you need to do."
 
Beau watched his punk rock side-dish break from their ranks, taking another blue Luvs diaper and a pack of baby wipes to join him on the playmat.
 
She dropped down to her knees. There were tears already forming in her dark eyes. They weren't red from whatever that controlled his mom and Vanessa, or Holly. They were red from crying. She'd been crying in the diaper aisle earlier, she'd been crying all night. She knew. She fucking knew, and she never told him. There was some kind of deal that she struck, and she bargained away his life.
 
"Hey, Beau."
 
He looked away.
 
"Please, Beau,” she pleaded, "don't make it any harder than it has to be."
 
Easy for her to say. She didn't have a bunch of mess up her butt crack. A stinky mess, which made him wrinkle his nose, but Christine didn't seem to pull away.
 
"I know that you don't understand right now, but I have to do this, I... I... just can't stand to be here any longer. I was in danger, just like you, and they were going to do it to you whether I was here or not. Holly wanted me here, I thought I could help, I thought..."
 
Holly chimed in from the periphery, "Less talking, more changing."
 
Christine nodded, then wiped away a trickling tear. "I just wanted it to be easier for you, Beau."
 
She brought a pale hand to his cheek, with her thumb she wiped away his tears. It was like before, iron filling to magnets, sometimes bad times bring broken people together. Could he forgive her? No. Not yet. Would he trade places with her? No. He wouldn't wish his 'forever' on anyone that he loved.
 
Beau had a quick epiphany; this terrible night seemed full of them, he realized that she was probably right. This was going to happen, and he was already finished before he woke up that morning. The moment… Well, that didn’t matter. What did matter was Christine. He knew exactly how she felt, Christine just couldn't stand to be here any longer, but how did she know about all of ‘this’?
 
"So I made a deal, Beau." Christine tried to keep it together through her tears. "I exchanged being present when Holly had her way, she wanted to watch me change you, for my own freedom. Please, forgive me. I've got to clean you up, then I can leave…”
 
Beau nodded. He wanted out of this diaper, and pronto. The rest of what she was saying was beginning to manifest in his tired head.
 
He settled into his back and cautiously spread his legs.
 
If she was there to change him, he'd be easy on her.
 
So Christine began to change his diaper, settling down on her knees on the playmat, slowly taking the time to align all of her supplies that she needed at his feet. The plastic container of wipes, extra powder, that damn small bottle of petroleum jelly. Beau curled his docile hands to his chest, doing his best to make this terrible moment as easy as possible for the both of them.
 
Christine proved to be a good ‘changer’, not like Beau was an expert at these things. She was soft and gentle, delicate. She didn't flinch from the smell, or the mess, and the scraping done with the wipes was thorough. As she cleaned him, she looked lovingly into his eyes, carried away by the moment between them. It would be a final moment, one last part of his forever that wouldn't happen again.
 
She rolled up the spent diaper as delicately as she could, then slid a new Luvs under his freshly wiped bottom.
 
When she was done, she moved in to kiss him on his sweaty forehead.
 
Then she whispered next to his ear, "I'll come back for you. Believe me, I'll come back for you."
 
Holly stood next to 'Ma' Webber, who looked disapprovingly at the two teens.
 
"Great job, Christine,” growled the old lady. “You did what you needed to, it's time for you to get out of town before ‘we’ change our minds."
 
Christine shot up from the floor, leaving Beau alone on the play mat. She slowly ventured towards the door, and waited there for the shoe to finally drop. Saying goodbyes are hard enough, but to leave him like this, made her feel awful.
 
Beau remained on his back, the mittens crossing over the binding diaper tapes over his waist. The sight of his old life leaving gave him a different kind of clarity. Beau Taylor level clarity. He suckled the pacifier for a little more zen.
 
He still had the overwhelming desire to fix things — at least with Christine.
 
There had to be a way to tell her he was going to be ‘okay’; well, as okay as he could possibly be as a forced baby. Beau wanted her to know that he would be waiting for her return, and that she shouldn't feel any more guilt. It would be his sacrifice, she shouldn't hate herself for only freeing herself from her own 'forever'.
 
How would he do that? His mouth was gone, so was everything else that made him Beau Taylor.
 
Beau looked down at his mittens, then back at Christine who hesitated by the door, and he knew just what to do.
 
He held both of his thumbs up.
 
Christine nodded, and wiped the tears from her eyes as she left the store, surely to immediately leave Lovington - taking the midnight train going anywhere.
 
The party ended soon after.
 
Beau left, too. They put the struggling teen in the stroller, then into the car seat already waiting in his mom’s car. Beau Taylor went home a very different young man than he arrived. Lovington had a tendency of doing that — it changes people.
 
It was all over. At least this part. His ‘forever’ was going to be a long time, and to Holly, that was a good thing.
 
Formerly mousy, now popular and confident, Holly pulled up alongside Elizabeth Webber, expecting praise. "Well, what did you think?"
 
"I'm not so sure how I feel about the music and theatrics," answered 'Ma' with a gruff voice. "But I can't argue with the result, you did good with your first. You'd be surprised how many times 'we' botch the first one. It's within the weakness of humanity."
 
Holly cracked, "It helps if he's subhuman, you mean."
 
Miss Webber raised a brow. "It helps if they deserve it."
 
"And he deserved it just as much as anyone!"
 
"I'm not arguing that, young lady." Miss Webber adjusted the paddle at her hips. "I'm just wondering about your method..."
 
"You know what I mean," whimpered Holly, she didn’t intend to upset Miss Webber.
 
The teenager took some time to take in her surroundings. She was worn and raw, excited and drained at the same time.
 
The baby store was so new, so inspirational, Holly couldn't help but to breathe it in, realizing what a special place it had all become. Then there was the hunger, she'd just ate, but she wanted more and more. However, Lovington was a town full of possibilities, and her journey had just begun.
 
Elizabeth 'Ma' Webber picked up on her hidden unease, and her burgeoning excitement.
 
"You did good, Holly. We were very pleased." Miss Webber turned to the younger girl, her usually stern face softened, and what could be inferred as a smile brightened her tired features. "How would you feel about taking a job here at my store? We could use young talent like yourself."
 
Holly questioned, “A job, for me?”
 
“Don’t pretend to be stupid,” snapped Miss Webber, she cared little for her new protégé’s hyperbolic teenage behavior. “It’s unbecoming for one of us to pretend to be anything other than what we are.”
 
“Sorry,” peeped Holly.
 
“So about the job?” Miss Webber returned to the subject at hand. “There’s a place for ‘Holly’ at this store. We just need to get you a name tag and a vest.”

“Thanks for the opportunity, Miss Webber, I’d love to work here.”

The old lady said, “That’s good to hear, Holly.”

The mousy brunette looked at the remnants of the party, a floating ‘It’s a Boy’ balloon somehow broke free, and it was trapped against the ceiling. A spent diaper in a bag remained where Christine changed Beau. That was all her new life was: change. She rubbed her index finger against her thumb. How had she gotten so much power and so fast?

Then she said with a slow-forming grin, “I'd prefer to go by my middle name… my new name: Diane."
 
THE END