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Personalias last won the day on September 16 2017

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  1. It wasn't the idea going in, but consent was the only way the characters could resolve their conflict. As for maybe a little incontinence tweaking... there's always re-negotiation.
  2. No physical regression. Just shrinking. If you've read Middle of the End, it's a similar sequence. If and when I do actual physical regression, I'll make sure to mentions that...talk about their bodies changing more visibly.
  3. Huh...that is weird. Um...maybe? It's not finished, but I've got waaaaay more than that much. Check out my da page? https://www.deviantart.com/personalias It has its own folder near the top left?
  4. It’s Mumday. You know this because you’re in the Rainbow Room at Daycare, and you’re usually in the Rainbow Room on Mumdays. Just in case, you look up from your pile of plastic blocks on the floor and look at the far wall. Yup. There’s the rainbow, still on the wall in all eleventy colors. Pfft…as if this could be any other room. That meant this was Mumday. Mumday was your day in the Rainbow Room. Toofsday was for the Caterpillar Room. Wessday was the Kitten Kat Room…and Fursday?...Fyeday…? Ummm… you stop yourself and start over. Mumday was for the Rainbow Room…ummm…huh? Fursday and Fyeday didn’t matter anyways. They were so far away and a grown-up would remind you what room you got to play in when it was time for Fursday or Fyday anyhow. But today is Mumday, and that means you get to play in the Rainbow Room. You’re sure of that. The big pile of eleventy colored blocks proves as much. Daycare only had the big pile of eleventy colored blocks in the Rainbow Room. Everybody knew that. It’s a little scarce here in the Rainbow Room this Mumday, at least in terms of playmates. Eleanor, in her super poofy pink party dress with white tights and black patent leather shoes has again taken to hiding in the pile of rainbow horses; her feet still sticking out. The pile moved ever so slightly with each breath she took, and it shook a little whenever she giggled to herself. Eleanor was fun to play pretend with, especially for fancy party stuff, but when she decided to hide in the rainbow horsies, there was nothing short of a grown-up that could get her out of the pile. And you are definitely not a grown-up. Tyler and Madison were both on vacation. They’d been talking about it for weeks, and finally their Mommy and Daddy had taken the “twins” away. That meant they probably wouldn’t be back tomorrow or the day after that either. Tyler and Madison probably wouldn’t be back for forever. Your lip quivers a bit at this thought. You really like Tyler and Madison. They were two of your first friends when you came to Daycare and the grown-ups took away your big kid pants. You look up from your pile of eleventy colored blocks- you really should be building something, you realize- and glance over to the T.V. corner. Rigby is sitting there, wearing nothing but his diaper, staring at the screen, mouth agape. A few minutes ago, he leaked, and couldn’t stop screaming, “I’M A BIG BOY!” so Miss Daycare Lady changed him, sat him down in front of the T.V. and held his head straight, focusing it at the screen until he stopped squirming and crying. Even now, you could make out a few glistening teardrops on Rigby’s cheeks while the T.V. played songs for him. “Ay-Bee-Gee-Lee-You-Can’t-Read. Be-cause-you-are-a-bay-bee.” You’ve long since memorized that song, and even without looking directly at the screen, you can imagine the funny shapes that go along with the song; “A” and the “B” and the “3” and the “😊”. If you had one complaint about Daycare, it was that they never showed any new cartoons. It was always the same silly songs and cartoons with bright flashy backgrounds in eleventy different colors. The songs were fun all the same, but would it kill the Daycare Ladies to have something besides “Five-little monkeys sleepin’ in a crib” or “Peter, Peter highchair feeder”? Rigby’s still kinda new, so the songs are still fun for him to watch. No point in ruining his fun, you decide. As for you, you’re somewhere between Eleanor and Rigby (not that it’s Rigby’s fault…he leaked). Your Mommy and Daddy dressed you in a yellow onesie with orange socks pulled up to your knees. When you said that it made you look like a duck, all you got was your hair ruffled and a reminder that you’d ALWAYS be Mommy and Daddy’s little duckling. Even your diaper is decorated with ducks today. That must’ve been where Daddy got the idea when after he changed you this morning and dressed you. Such was life. You pick up one of the plastic blocks and turn it over in your hand. “What am I gonna make today?” you ask the block. “What am I gonna make today?” Maybe a castle, or a high tower. You shimmy over to all fours, instead of your rump, and lean forward on your elbows. “What are you?” you ask the pile of blocks. “Show me…!” A stern “ahem”, and a warning look from Miss Daycare lady makes you blush a little bit. Oops! You were being a little too loud considering you were playing by yourself. You refocus and whisper your demands to the blocks. “What am I gonna make you into?” And stare at the pile, feeling a case of builder’s block. You’re so focused, you almost don’t notice how warm your diaper is and the spreading wet spot making your crinkly clothes more squishier…almost. Just when you’ve decided to go for the tried and true block-pony-dog-robot-thing, a new voice breaks your concentration. “LET ME GO! LET! ME! GO!”, you hear. As almost a force of habit, you look over to Rigby, even though the voice sounds nothing like him. Rigby is still placidly watching the T.V., his eyes unblinking while the screen flashes and screams the second chorus of “You’re a Super-Duper-Pooper.” For some reason, his face is turning a little pink. “I’LL KILL YOU! I WANT A LAWYER!” The voice keeps ranting as you turn around towards the Dutch door to find the source. “I WANT TO TALK TO WHO’S IN CHARGE!” Huh, you think…guess Rigby isn’t the new baby anymore. The little girl, and it’s definitely a little girl, is wearing a light baby blue dress that doesn’t really cover her diaper. Through her kicking and squirming in the grown-ups’ arms, as one Miss Daycare Lady passes her over the bottom door to the other Miss Daycare Lady, you see that not only do her socks match the color of her dress, but the frills on the ankles match the frills on the hem. Her white Velcro shoes are a bit plain, comparatively, but the frilly blue bows in her pigtails really bring the whole outfit together. “LET! ME! GO!” Yup. She just got adopted. You can tell. The new babies who just got adopted are always super fussy and scared. It was tough at first, you remember, being the new baby. And even though you’re naturally shy, you feel the need to reach out. Once she’s safely in the Rainbow Room, the Miss Daycare Lady puts the new kid down and walks away, hardly even looking back as the new girl starts pounding on the lower door, screaming all kinds of nasty. It’s a good thing her first day is in the Rainbow Room, you muse, idly playing with a block that was going to be part of the left foot of your horse-dog-robot. New girl obviously needs her space, and to get this tantrum out of her system. Otherwise she’s never gonna learn to have fun. The Miss Daycare Lady in the Rainbow Room is okay with little ones having tantrums when they can’t control their feelings, as long as they’re not hurting nobody else. She hardly ever spanked, neither. The Miss Daycare Lady in the Rainbow Room is good like that. Tantrum or not, though, you want to make friends with the new girl. You’re barely (barely) aware of the crinkle as you push yourself up from all fours and onto your feet, widening your stance as your diaper seems to have gotten a little more puffed out over the last few minutes. (How did they do that?) “I’M NOT A BABY!” the new kid cries as she whams the door with her balled up fists. “I’M AN ADULT! I’M A HUMAN ADULT!” You smirk to yourself. Definitely a new baby. Definitely just lost her big kid pants. Definitely in denial. Well, you think, maybe that’s how you can help her. There’s something about her voice, and the way she carries herself. Something familiar. Vaguely familiar. “I DEMAND TO SPEAK TO-!“ “Jenny?” A whirl of surprise, fists clenching ready to swing, and a jungle cat’s snarl greet you. That’s Jenny, all right. Her face softens a bit when she sees you, her eyes still not believing what she’s seeing. Awkwardly, you twitch your mouth to the side and floppily wave at her, your hand dangling at the wrist. “Heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…..”. Like a dog’s tail, your hand keeps waving for a few seconds after you’ve finished your awkward, awkward greeting. Just like old times. Her face softens. Her eyes and mouth simultaneously go round. “It’s you!” She says. “It’s really you!” She runs to you. You run to her. You meet in the middle, right out in the Rainbow Room floor. Her embrace is tight, her heart his pounding. You can’t stop grinning. Hugs are nice. Hugs from a friend that you haven’t seen in a long time are even nicer. Finally, after much too long, you release each other. She looks into your eyes and opens her mouth to speak. “Not yet,” you tell her. “Follow me.” Taking her hand, the two of you waddle over to your old pile of blocks. Miss Daycare Lady will be less likely to interrupt you if you’re playing. “Okay,” you say. “Now we can talk.” You bend over and hand her a few blocks. “Put these together while we talk. We gotta keep busy.” Jenny seems to be following your train of thought. With fumbling, unpracticed fingers, she connects one plastic block with another, its peg going into its opposite’s hole. You do the same, but it’s more second nature to you by now; something you can do without even thinking. “It was awful,” she says. “Yeah?” you say, before bending over and picking up another block to add to the stack. Your old friend shudders, as if something is haunting her…or maybe she’s peeing…and recounts her tale. “I was just minding my own business, when the air started to…to…” she pauses, searching for the right word. “to shimmer. Like a mirage.” “Uh-huh.” You’re searching for another block. Why were there so many one-prongs and so few three prongs? “And this hand, this GIANT hand reaches out,” Jenny says, “and just grabs me.” “A grown-up hand,” you correct her. Your friend winces. “Grown-ups?” she says. “Is that what they call themselves?” That’s what everybody calls them. That’s what they are. “Yup.” You reach down and hand her another block, an easy two prong. “Keep goin’.” “So these…these…giants…these ‘grown-ups’…” For some reason Jenny says it a little differently than you do, but you can’t quite put your finger on how. “They strip my clothes off of me. I swear, they threw my bra and panties in a, like, a furnace or something!” “Uh-huh.” “And then I’m in a bath…” “Seems accurate…” “And all of my body hair comes off in the bath..” “Me too…” “And then they…they put a…” she mouths the word “diaper”, “…on me, and then force feed me a bottle of this stuff…and they burp me…”. Jenny’s starting to shake. She’s about to go into a full tantrum. “And then they put me in…in…” she gestures to the cute outfit that she’s wearing, her face contorting into a mask of pain, anguish, and general fussiness. Gently, you take her blocks from her and add them to your own, setting them down on the floor. The tower is starting to get big enough to where it’ll stand on its own. The dog/horse/robot thing can wait. Quality time with your friend is more important. You give her a hug, and gently rub her back, just like Mommy does when you start to get fussy, thinking about the Before Time. When she stops shaking on the inside so much, you shift around and rest your forehead on hers. A comforting, intimate gesture that allows you to look her in the eyes. “That all happened to me too.” Jenny sniffles, a bit. “Yeah…I…I kinda figured…” “Bein’ adopted is tough-“ You were about to add ‘at first’, but then your old friend recoils a bit, looking at you warily. “Adopted?” “You know,” you say to her. “When the grown-ups grab you and throw away your big kid pants.” “Do you mean, ‘abducted’?” Your lip pouts out as you think about it. “Yeah. I guess so.” Jenny steps away from you and tries to smooth over her dress in a vain attempt to cover her diaper. A small hint of a smile glances across your lips as you notice the gesture and nostalgia overtakes you. You remember when you tried to hide your diapers, too. That was a long time ago. “How long have you been here?” Your shoulders bob up and down in the briefest of shrugs. “Just a little bit. I haven’t even had naptime yet. Daddy dropped me off here on the way to his job at the business factory.” Then you correct yourself. “MY Daddy dropped me off to work.” (Though wouldn’t it be cool if Mommy and Daddy adopted Jenny, too?) Your old friend looks worried. “I don’t mean how many hours,” Jenny says. “I mean…is this where you disappeared to?” “I guess so.” You say. Your tummy feels kind of funny, and without thinking you give a little push. “Why?” Coincidentally, the back of your diaper starts to fill up. The warm mess is always a little smelly, but it feels good on your bottom. “Why?!” Jenny seems offended for some reason. “Why?! You’ve been missing for over a year! We all thought you were dead!” She frowns and crosses her arms, turning a little bit away from you. “I cried at your funeral.” Sheesh. It’s not like you called her a poopy head or something. What’s the big deal? Meanwhile, the back of your diaper keeps getting mushier and mushier. That was the best part about onesies: it was almost impossible for your diaper to sag. You try putting your hand on her shoulder, but Jenny just shrugs it off. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to-” Jenny’s nose wrinkles, and she interrupts you. “Did you…did you poop your pants?” The color is draining from her face and she looks more worried than before. You stifle your own laughter. “No!” Silly Jenny! The grown-ups took your big kid pants away, just like her! “But…are you pooping?” Hmmm? You’d never thought of it like that before. You sit down, feeling the mush in the back of your diaper spread out and thin itself. “I dunno…maybe…” “Oh God,” she says, looking at you with pity in her eyes, like she’s better than you, like she’s some kind of grown-up. “They really did a number on you, didn’t they?” A shadow falls over the two of you, and you see Jenny stare in amazement, her pigtails almost brushing against her shoulders as she cranes her neck up. A grown-up has come. Miss Daycare Lady’s voice is deep and caring and full of love. “Uh-oh” she says in her wonderful sing-song, “I think someone’s stiiiiiinky!” Jenny’s hand immediately points at you, her other hand pinching her nose, as if to absolve her from the deed. But that kind of behavior only makes Miss Daycare Lady suspicious. They who smelt it, dealt it. She’ll learn. All babies do eventually. From your spot on the floor you watch as Miss Daycare Lady reaches over you and picks Jenny up. You crane your neck backward and watch as the grown-up inserts two fingers into the leg holes of Jenny’s diaper. Jenny can only go rigid and lock kneed from nerves as the grown-up turns her over in her arms, lifts the hem of her dress and takes a peek down the back. “Dry and clean,” Miss Daycare Lady says, setting the new baby down. Now it’s your turn. You don’t struggle as Miss Daycare Lady picks you up and pokes the front of your diaper, feeling it squish beneath her touch. “Wet,” she says. You don’t think to wriggle or complain over much when the grown up takes you over to a chair and lays you across her lap so that she can pull back the leg cuff of your diaper. This was the downside of being dressed in a onesie: diaper checks were so much harder. “And poopy.” Huh. So Jenny was right. How about that? Neat. A few seconds later, you’re on your back, looking up from the padded mat of the Rainbow Room’s changing table. “Let’s get you taken care of.” Out of habit, you fold your hands behind your head and let out a deep sigh as the grown-up unsnaps the buttons on your comfy yellow onesie, lifting you up enough to reveal the cute little duckies on your diaper. As the tapes are ripped off, you hear Jenny yelling at you from her spot on the floor. “SNAP OUT OF IT!” she cries out. Snap out of it? Well yes, come to think of it. That’s how these things worked. The snaps came off, you were out of it, then you were in a new one, then the snaps went back on. You can’t ever remember Jenny being so clever from before. You luxuriate in the feeling as the baby wipes are dragged across your messy tush, cleaning you, making you new again. Through orange colored socks, you wiggle your toes as wipe after wipe explores every nook and cranny of you, and this delights you in ways you can’t begin to describe. A giggle bubbles up as your front starts getting wiped. It always tickles a bit. You barely notice, Miss Daycare Lady’s so fast, the old diaper being slipped out, balled up, and thrown away while the new one is quickly slipped underneath you; never mind the fresh lavender smell of baby powder being sprinkled on for good measure. A big goofy grin blooms on your face. It had always been hard for you, at least as far as you could remember, to tell when your diaper was wet or dry or messy or clean, but there was something unmistakably decadent about the feeling of a fresh diaper just as it was being taped on. A diaper change always just felt right. For some reason though, Jenny’s not happy. You turn head and look to her, curiosity mixed with concern. She’s crying. “Please!” she calls out. “Don’t let them do this to you!” Do what? Then you see what she’s staring at and you realize the truth. As the giantess pulls up the fresh, crinkly diaper up between your thighs and begins to fasten on the tapes as she has done countless time before, a new, alien thought enters your consciousness. THIS IS WRONG. THIS IS ALL WRONG! “NOOOOOOOO!” You cry out. You start to kick and wriggle and squirm. “NO! STOP IT! NOOOOOO!” All you get for your trouble is a pacifier shoved into your mouth, and your thighs swatted as the impossibly gargantuan woman reaches back behind you and swiftly tugs the two ends of your onesie back together. You are Mommy and Daddy’s little duckling again, but now you’re so much more, and are poorer for it. Jenny’s there for you the instant your jailor places you back on the Rainbow Room floor. “That was awful!” you confess, barely containing your sobs. You grip the baby blue sleeve of her dress, trying to contain your indignation. “Oh thank God,” Jenny whispers. “You really are in there. It really is you.” “How could they do this to me?” “I have no idea, but we’ll get through this together. I promise.” “I’m some kind of freak….” “No, no, no, no,” she shushes to you, sounding so much like Mommy after you have one of your nightmares. “This isn’t your fault. Not your fault at all.” “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE TURTLES?!” you let out a sob. “….Beg pardon?” Jenny seems confused, but how can that be? She saw the problem before you did. “WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE TURTLES?” you bawl. “I HATE TURTLES!” Too embarrassed, you withdraw and hide your shame in your hands, sucking on your pacifier to calm yourself down. Your friend stands back up. Her tone goes flat. “What are you talking about…?” Red faced and cringing with embarrassment, you pat the abomination wrapped around your crotch. “I got a turtle diaper! I wanted duckies!” “You’re…you’re upset because of the decoration on your diaper?” You sniffle and lower your voice. Finally! “Yeah…” “But…you’re diaper’s covered up. I can’t even tell what’s on it…” Cheese and crackers! What was wrong with her? You take a drag off of your paci, look her dead set in the eyes, and in your most serious voice, you tell her your truth: “I’ll know, Jenny. I’ll know.” Jenny puts her hand, gently on your forearms. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t get here in time.” Sadly, you smile at her. “Thanks. I’m sorry, too.” Miss Daycare lady is back, and taking her hand, leading her away towards Rigby. “I miss you,” she says, stepping away, toddling over to the T.V. Maybe it’s the curiosity of what cartoons are playing (they’re new to her), or maybe she doesn’t want to look at some kind of freak in a duck onesie and turtle diaper…but she breaks off her gaze and starts staring at the T.V. closer to the screen. She squirms and grunts and groans a bit as Miss Daycare Lady makes her sit in front of the screen and holds her head street, but just like Rigby, just like you when you were first adopted, she can’t bring her self to scream. She can’t bring herself to drown out the wonderful catchy little educational songs. “Suck you thumb doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo; suck your thumb doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo; suck your thumb.” And soon after the first verse, Jenny’s not struggling any more. She’s watching the cartoons and sucking her thumb. Just like a good baby. “I’ll see you soon,” you whisper into your pacifier. You watch as Miss Daycare Lady checks Rigby’s diaper, pulling it back and looking down, her nose wrinkling, but her lips smiling contentedly. Looks like Rigby needs changing too. Jenny doesn’t even seem to notice, though. She’s too busy, learning the songs that you’ve long since outgrown, the songs you’ve already learned by heart, etched deep deep deep into your very soul. And deep in your soul, you’re happy. Soon enough, you’ll have your old friend back. She just needs to learn a few things. THE END
  5. Actually, "Yesterday" was the original Title of this story. Just due to a clerical error it got posted as just Pastel Mirror. (Strikes Tortured Artist Pose) You're quite welcome. I know it was precisely what you pitched on the request thread way back when, but I'm glad you're satisfied with the choices I made. Thank you for allowing me artistic liberties. Ha! I remember The Baby. For what it was, it was actually an interesting little flick.
  6. Pastel Mirror: Episode 2. Yesterday Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away… (Today) Anna’s breasts were bigger than Devin could ever remember. They were huge, at least Double D’s. They were the kind of breasts he typically thought about her having when he was trying to speed things up in bed with her. That was more than likely the only good news about today. From the moment he had woken up, he’d been in some strange plushy hell. He’d woken up behind the wooden bars of a particularly large crib; with a pacifier plugged into his mouth and strapped behind his head. Padded mittens had prevented him from unlatching the gag, and for some reason he’d been unable to stand up and climb over the top rail of the crib. Things had only gotten stranger when Anna had come in, pushed him down as if he were a kitten, and changed his sopping wet diaper. If that had been the weirdest thing thus far, he’d still just be focusing on his wife’s breasts, but being harnessed into an adult sized car seat to ride to the country club, and then being carried (yes, carried) into this mansion’s giant nursery upped the bizzaro factor by at least ten. Anna had changed his diaper, (again…he’d wet himself on the ride over…that was something he’d have to unpack later), then brought him over to a couch, and sat him down on the floor next to two other guys who were clearly dressed as babies. One of them, in shortalls, made him feel distinctly jealous. The other one, dressed in only a t-shirt and a very large Pampers, made him realize that his onesie wasn’t so bad. It was only after he got a good look around the room and saw a bunch of other dudes, all clearly padded between their legs and most very obviously not happy about it, that Devin’s pacifier gag was removed- and he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. Above him, Anna sat on the couch chatting it up with the other women. Next to him, other men avoided eye contact and looked at the floor. The scene was the same everywhere in the giant playroom: men were acting like babies, but they were very clearly acting, and it was very clearly the kind of acting that you did when there was a gun to your head. Their wives (or girlfriends, or Mommies…whatever) were all very obviously playing a part too, only they were having a ball with it. Milling around all the chaos of public changes, pinched cheeks, and forced bottle feedings were other women who were decidedly not with anyone. They were “the help,” all wearing black maids’ uniforms with white trim, the kind you saw in movies and cartoons. They didn’t seem to be play acting. They didn’t seem to be quite in their right head, to be honest; milling about like drones and handing out glasses of wine to the other women. Most peculiarly though, was that they were wearing diapers, too. Not the giant purple Luvs that was wrapped around Devin’s ass, or the Pampers and Huggies that some of the less dressed men had on. They just wore regular diapers. Adult diapers. “I don’t get it, Anna,” some bitch with a wine glass said. “Why do you keep Devin in Luvs of all things?” Anna took her own glass from one of the drones. “What do you mean?” “It’s a bargain diaper,” her friend said. “It doesn’t even have a wetness indicator.” A guy playing nearby with blocks looked between his legs and blushed. The line running down the middle of his diaper was a bright blue. Devin didn’t know much about diapers, but he’s guessing it wasn’t blue when it got put on him. Oblivious to the men’s humiliation, the conversation kept going on over their heads. “Why would I need a wetness indicator?” Anna asked. “Wetness indicators are good for rash prevention and potty training. He doesn’t get rashes, and he’s not going to be potty training. Isn’t that right, sweetie?” Her hand reached down and pinched Devin firmly on the cheek, wriggling it around. Instead of shrinking away, Devin leaned in and allowed his face to be grabbed. He even giggled a bit. “Is he all right?” asked another lady who was knocking back vino like she was gonna win something. “Have you already given him his booster shot, or something?” Booster shot? Devin had no idea what they were talking about, but the men next to him on the floor seemed to. The fella in the wet Pampers whined a little bit, and a dude wearing shortalls shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Either that or he was taking a dump in his pants; both were equally likely, given the circumstances. “We’re a little late on the booster shot,” Anna said. “His doesn’t wear off until tomorrow.” Tomorrow? Tomorrow? Faint memories started rattling around Devin’s head. The man in the shortalls started scooching away on his bottom. “Oh, that’s a shame that we can’t all be here when it happens,” one of the ‘Mommies’ said before finishing off her wine. “It’ll be more intimate though,” Anna said, patting Devin on his fluffy mop of hair. Intimate? Flashes of memory, of wild sex and a pinprick in his ass. Yesterday, Anna had said she wanted to make a baby with him. Was THIS what she had been talking about? Anna’s first companion agreed with her sentiment. “True.” “True,” the other one echoed. “But why Luvs?” “Hmm?” Anna looked up from her glass. “Why Luvs?” her companion repeated. “For real-” she stopped, then corrected herself, “for tiny babies, the best selling point is the cost. We’re getting all this for free! So why not go all out and get the good stuff?” “Because,” Anna smiled, “you live, learn, and then get Luvs.” Wine almost spilled all over the upholstery, the other two were laughing so hard. “Oh my gosh. Are you still punishing him?” “Oh my, goodness no,” Anna said. Out of the corner of his eye, Devin saw her pinching her thumb and forefinger together, just barely touching. “Wellllll…maybe. Seriously though, it’s what I always imagined my baby wearing. Don’t ask me why.” She finished her wine. “It’s also nice to not have an advertisement for Sesame Street or Mickey Mouse on his crotch. But that’s just me.” Anna has said something about punishing him. Punishing him? Shit. Did that mean she knew? Shifting his weight to his knees, Devin crawled, very, very slowly over to the man baby. It felt natural, crawling, believe it or not. He felt less like an ape and more like a puppy, crawling around on all fours, but doing it felt more natural to him. He’d been drugged. That much was obvious. The real questions were “when would it wear off,” and “how could he escape?” His wife might’ve been oblivious to his acting, but the guy in the shortalls wasn’t. “Keep your head down,” he hissed, while slowly pushing a toy car along the floor. “Bide your time. Wait for your moment. Then make a break for it. They can’t catch us all.” Sucking his thumb, Devin sat down next to the man-baby, and nodded. (Yesterday) “Good morning!” Devin greeted Anna as she wobbled into the kitchen, her eyes still half closed. “Coffee’s ready!” Anna smiled softly as she took a cup, already poured for her and sipped at it. “Thank you,” she said. “You’re so good to me.” “Well tomorrow is a special day,” Devin replied, all grins. “Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day!” Anna smiled that cute, childlike smile of hers that only showed up when she was genuinely flattered. “But I’m not a Mommy…” she said. “…yet.” Devin closed the distance between the two and grinned. “Oh, we’re gonna try and fix that, won’t we?” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Maybe we could even start after you could get home after work?” she asked. “I think I’d like that,” Devin said. “Yeah?” “Yeah.” With a final peck on the cheek, Devin slipped out of the house and into the car. Looking at his ring, he played with it on his finger for a little bit, twisting it this way and that like it was a little toy. Then, as was his habit. He took it off and hid it in the glove compartment. After seven years of marriage, he still didn’t even have a tan line. Whipping out his phone, he texted Jenny. “You up?” (Today) Devin’s attention was diverted when three people walked into the giant playroom. Leading the pack was a woman in a pristine and flowing white gown with lace trimming. She was an older woman, but Devin wouldn’t have been able to guess exactly how old just by looking at her. She was at that special age that some women get where she might have been in her late forties or her early eighties. She’d obviously had some work done, that much was for certain. Her face was too taut, her eyebrows too thin, her breasts too high, her skin too tan, her hair too blonde. She looked rather like a doll; something that was beautiful and elegant in principle, but didn’t quite make the leap over the uncanny valley to reach attractive. Still, she had something about her, that while not attractive, commanded respect. It was something about her eyes. They were like a hawk’s; constantly scanning around the room, ever alert. Looking for prey. Her long flowing gown and the way she carried herself reminded Devin of ancient pagan priestesses readying an orgy. Her blonde hair, done up in a tight bun, with those hawk’s eyes scanning the room harked back to Cinderella’s wicked step mother. The two concepts, Devin quickly decided, were not mutually exclusive to each other. Behind her was another woman. She was tall and slender, with short cropped black hair. Her pointed nose and her skulking, almost jittery gait made Devin think of a tiny prey animal; a mouse he decided. Her eyes were also scanning the giant nursery, but it was in a different way than the lady leading them. She wasn’t looking for victims, she was looking for threats; as if any one of the lushes or their diapered prisoners might leap out and attack. The Hawk Lady was the head bitch in charge. Mouse Girl wasn’t. Holding Mouse Girl’s hand and wearing only a blindfold and a cocky smile was one brick shithouse of a man. Dick swinging, he swaggered in, almost pulling Mouse Girl with him with his huge gait. He had the body of a prizefighter, if not a body builder. The bruises on his knuckles attested to that. He lacked the sense of quiet regality that the hawk woman possessed, and he seemed so much more the fool with his cock casually swinging about. The heckling, derisive laughter from the women, even some of the maids, caused him to frown a bit in confusion. Like lepers seeking a cure, the women- dragging along their baby men- gathered around the trio. Some parted for them as they passed, only to fall in line behind them or take up a position surrounding them. “Now’s my chance…” Shortalls hissed. “Get out while you can, dude!” Awkwardly, like an excited turtle, the man-baby turned around and started to crawl past the forest of high-heels. Something in Devin told him to stay put. This wasn’t his moment. The strange procession of the Hawk Lady, the Mouse Girl, and the dumbass came to a halt in the middle of the room. The matriarch called out. “Hello, Mommies,” she called out. God, even her voice sounded like Cinderella’s step mother. “Hello, Miss Susan,” the women answered in a kind of call and response tone usually reserved for church. Their diapered husbands, boyfriends, and (if the drunken chatter he’d overheard was true) even exes, sat by their ‘Mommies’ legs on the floor, just as if they were the helpless little tykes they were dressed like. Someone had broken all of these guys, and broken them good. Devin had more than an intuition that the Hawk Lady, this ‘Miss Susan,’ was the one that was ultimately responsible. Anna was nowhere in sight, lost somewhere among the crowd, or maybe downing another glass of wine. Good. Regardless of where Anna was, all eyes were on Miss Susan, the big naked dope behind her, and the Mouse Girl holding his hand. “Ladies, as we do every year on Mother’s Day, we welcome at least one new member into our circle.” She gestured to the little mouse behind her. “This is Linda.” “Hiiii Linda,” the chorus of women shouted with glee. The Hawk Woman turned slightly and waved to the naked man behind her. He was grinning like an idiot, his cock starting to swell a bit, just at the sound of the women surrounding him. “This is her…boy…Billy.” “That’s Bill,” the big man said, proudly. “We doing this or what?” A silence rippled through the crowd. Someone had just back-sassed the Goddess, and everybody but Billy knew it. Devin gulped. Two of the diapered maids came up from behind the blindfolded man and grabbed him. “Hey-ey! Now we’re talkin’!” No one laughed. No one said anything. Miss Susan turned and faced the dupe. “Billy has been a very naughty boy, haven’t you Billy?” Billy grinned, his member engorging. “Oh yeah I have! I’ve been a real bad boy.” From his spot on the floor, Devin read the room. Grins and smiles were turning to frowns. It was not friendly. “You like to play rough. Isn’t that right, Billy?” Hips gyrating, Billy answered. “Oh yeah! I like it reeeeal rough.” He jumped a bit when one of the maids smacked him on the rump. “Yeah! That’s nice!” “Do you need a spanking, Billy?” The brute was all but humping the air in front of him. “I can take a beating.” He winced when an alcohol swab was dragged across his posterior. “Huh?” Like a shadow, another of the nameless, nearly faceless help emerged, a golden syringe in hand. Like a squire handing a sword to his knight, the maid presented the needle to the Mouse Girl, Linda. Susan paid no mind. “And you like committing violence, too, don’t you Billy?” “Huh?” He stopped thrusting. “You like violence, don’t you?” The bottle blonde witch repeated herself. “You like committing it against people physically weaker than you. Don’t you?” “What are you-?” Meanwhile, Linda was circling around, chewing on her lip nervously and eyeing the man’s ass in the least seductive way Devin thought imaginable. Miss Susan was a prosecutor, rattling off the charges. “Speaking to you hasn’t worked. Trying to leave you didn’t work. A restraining order most certainly won’t work. It doesn’t matter how often you say you’re sorry. You just do it again.” Linda chose that moment to strike. “Ow!” Billy yelped as the syringe needle pierced his backside. The maids released him. “Shit!” He ripped off the blindfold and glared at her like a bully demanding stolen test answers. “What the fuck was that about Linda!?” The frail, mousey looking woman stood a little taller. “Just your booster shot, baby boy.” Despite her words, there was no tenderness in her voice. “The fuck does that mean?” Both Billy and Devin got the answer to that question quickly enough. The big man started swaying and grabbing at his head, rubbing his eyes and picking at his ears as if he were stuffed full of straw. Giggles from the surrounding women created a kind of music for him to dance drunkenly too. “What did you do?” The not quite old woman came up from behind the little mouse with a very large Pampers in her hand. She placed her free hand on Billy and shushed him. “It’s okay, baby boy. We’re almost ready for playtime. Just let it happen.” Billy was in no position to resist as his knees buckled under his own weight and he tumbled to his knees. She looked to the little mouse of a lady. “May I?” Linda nodded as another one of the maids came up with a set of pills and a glass of water for her. She tossed them back and washed them down with the glass, never once taking her eyes off her man. “Linda? Linda? What’s going on, baby?” Billy pleaded from his spot on the floor as a diaper was slid underneath him. “Talk to me!” “I’m not the baby,” Linda said. “I haven’t been the one throwing tantrums when I don’t get my way. I know how to use my words. You don’t.” The little mouse doubled over in pain, her arms wrapping around her chest. Through gritted teeth and closed eyes, she continued. “But that’s okay, now. I’m gonna…make…it…right…” To thunderous applause, her breasts bulged out, bloated and full; not unlike Anna’s were. That explained something. Miss Susan finished diapering the man and stepped away, brushing her hands off. “Done.” The big lug tried to scramble to his feet, only for his legs to buckle and him go crashing down again; just like what had happened to Devin. From his spot on the floor, he saw most of the baby-men, looking away, afraid, ashamed, or both. Were they crying? “WHAT’S GOIN’ ON!” Billy screamed. “Linda! This wasn’t what we talked about!” Panicked and pathetic, the big man started crawling on the ground, to the collective awing and laughter of all the women in attendance. “Please!” he looked up to one of the Mommies. “Help! Please!” All he got was a pat on the head for his troubles. The women ignoring him, Devin watched as the other man looked to his new peers for help. None of them could even bear to make eye contact with him. None of them but Devin. “Please! Help me!” He was tearing up. Clawing his way along the carpet in an unsteady, almost possessed rhythm. “Something’s happening to me! Call help! Call the cops! Call anybody!” Devin was frozen in terror as the man broke down in front of him, all traces of dignity evaporating in front of Devin’s eyes. A meaty, unsteady, but surprisingly weak hand gripped the collar of Devin’s onesie. “Call…call…Maaaaaa maaaaaa!” Billy dropped face first to the floor with an audible thunk, his fists clenched impotently as he cried out in pain and confusion. The tones in the room went up a full octave. “Awwwwwwwwww!” The chorus of cooing was good for two things, covering up the sounds of the other baby-men all quietly crying into their hands, and drowning out the rude sounds that were suddenly coming out of Devin’s backside. Without even meaning to, Devin began solidly filling the back of his diaper; a smelly and squishy load piled into the soft, soaked cotton, causing the diaper to balloon out and the mess to spread out across his rump. How had that happened? Any other day he’d be turning eleven shades of red from embarrassment and thirty-nine hues of green due to whatever food poisoning caused him to shit his pants. His skin should be crawling right now; itching and burning with irritation, his mind screaming out from anguish, but just then Devin couldn’t find the energy. His stomach didn’t turn. His face didn’t flush. Just like with him being wet, there was no itching or feeling of discomfort. It was almost like he was used to this. With a confident swagger, Linda, now not so mousey looking, came up to the new baby-man. Rolling him over, her face had gone from an almost emotionless and stern shell to one filled with love and adoration. Maybe the stuff in that “booster shot” wasn’t the only thing messing with people’s heads. Maybe something in those pills was crossing the women’s wires. From her exposed nipples, Devin watched as milk dripped from Linda’s tits. “A baby’s cry does that to new mothers,” Susan spoke and was rewarded by another chorus of knowing laughs. Devin couldn’t help but look on as the sick parody of motherhood continued two feet away from him. Bug-eyed and frowning, he watched as Linda brushed a hard, milky nipple across Billy’s cheek and the overgrown infant turned to latch on, greedily sucking on her tit. Stranger still, watching this made him feel…hungry. A line of drool dripped from his lips down to the carpeted floor beneath him. Why was he drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs? A familiar hand came up behind him and gave his bum a pat, squishing the newly deposited contents of his diaper up against him. “Thought so,” Anna said. “I know that look all too well.” From his spot on the floor Devin looked up and stared up at his wife. They’d just watched a guy get his ass beat and then injected with God-knows what, and now her biggest concern was what was going on in Devin’s pants? This wasn’t Wonderland, this was the Twilight Zone. Among the mad applause, titters and coos that rattled around the room as the newest “Mommy” fed her “baby boy” his first meal, Devin caught sight of more syringes being passed around by the diapered maids. One after another in rapid succession; confused, crying, begging baby-men were getting the same golden stuff pressed into their veins. As if having landed in the middle of a snake pit, Devin’s head went on a swivel, waiting for the fangs to come down on him. Devin saw the poor schmuck in the shortalls crawling for the doorway, only to be dragged back by the maids and drugged up like the rest of them. He was sucking his thumb not ten seconds later. “Ready to change?” Anna asked. Devin shook his head, his breathing becoming ragged and threatening to break out into a full-blown sob. “Well, you need a diaper change. I’m Mommy, and Mommy knows best, remember?” With two open, syringe-free hands, his wife motioned to a large changing table. “Let’s go.” Not yet. It wasn’t his time yet. Somehow, his plan was still working. He let out a sigh. Reluctantly, Devin started crawling towards the changing table. (Yesterday) “OMW 😊 😉 ❤️ ❤️ <3” the text read. Followed by “I want your dick,” and “ :0 :0 :0”. Pants around his ankles, Devin stared hungrily at the text from his spot on the old motel bed. He could have afforded a better place to meet Jenny, he knew, but the motel was cheap, halfway between home and work, and didn’t need a debit or credit card for a security deposit. Being here reminded him of being back in college, when he and Anna would find any rickety shack to fuck each other’s brains out. How’d that old Bob Seger song go again? “We were just young and restless and bored,” he sung quietly to himself. Yeah, that was it. Youth ended though, as youth tended to, and much sooner than Devin would have liked. Marriage was just a long and boring routine now, with even sex being scheduled for maximum fertility. Anna’s biological clock was ticking, and she was now fixated on having a baby. And wouldn’t you know it: she was primed to get preggers tomorrow, on Mother’s Day. Prescheduled, passionless sex, trying to make a squalling ball of piss and shit, on a day that he’d learned to associate with his mother: It was the triple threat of buzz kills as far as Devin was concerned. That’s where Jenny came in. It had already been six months or so, and the routine had yet to get boring; probably because he wasn’t supposed to be doing it. It was exciting. It was taboo. It made him feel young and restless and bored, and that he was working on mysteries without any clues, instead of old and tired; like he’d been everywhere and done everything. It was how sex was supposed to make him feel. A deep exhale puffed his cheeks out. He couldn’t get too excited before his intern/lover got into the room. If he came before Jenny got there, he’d get desensitized and would need to work all the harder to get it up and keep it up for her. Worse yet, he’d get less enjoyment out of it. Condoms were bad enough, but a preemptive round two when he hadn’t gotten a proper chance to play in round one would just make for bad, boring sex. It’d be just like sex with Anna. If Jenny and Anna were anything alike, it was that they got pissed when they didn’t get off. Sometimes all Devin could do is just lay back and try to get through it without saying anything stupid. Better cool down. He pulled his pants back up, opened up the Facebook app on his phone and started scrolling through news stories. Political memes. Stupid ads that had somehow targeted him. Inspirational bullshit. Devin groaned as he scrolled through it all. He wanted to cool down, not be bored to tears. He went to his “Everything Local” group, to see what was going on. An article caught his attention. “Man or Baby?” he read aloud. “Both, Maybe?” Apparently there was a small but growing movement brewing in town; organized from the country club no less. Men were signing away their power of attorney over to their wives, and then allowing themselves to be put in diapers and treated like babies. Weird thing was, the ladies seemed cool with this. The article called it “Maternalism”, which was a weird name, come to think of it. Sounded like a cult or something, even though it looked more like some bullshit kink for guys who couldn’t cut it as real men. Still waiting for Jenny to knock on the door, Devin scrolled down to the pictures. Wow. Just wow. When he’d read, “men treated as babies,” he was expecting like a dude in a Depends or something, but these freaks were not kidding around. Pictures of grown men in toddler shortalls playing with blocks were shown. Another guy breastfeeding from a woman, presumably his wife, was underneath that. Some loser on his back in nothing but a diaper burned itself into Devin’s mind. “Holy shit,” he whispered to himself. “Is this for real?” The diaper the guy in the picture had on didn’t look like an adult diaper, but a baby one. Mickey Mouse was on the front and everything. Was this shit photoshopped like that Al Franken crap a few years ago? If not, somebody was being sued. Devin kept skimming the article to see exactly who was about to lose their homes because Huggies and Pampers didn’t want their names associated with loser pervs. “These men were all infants at their core,” their spokeswoman, Susan (something Eastern European…something-a-vich) was quoted as saying. “Their new Mommies and I are just giving them what they really need to be happy. Before this, none of our members were happy in their relationships. Now everyone is.” He couldn’t help but laugh at that. What woman would actually want to change their dude’s diapers? What dude would want that? Gross. Fucking gross. Devin finished scrolling down the article to make sure this wasn’t some kind of satire. It wasn’t. The article ended with mention of a planned town hall meeting. The local HOAs and the Country Club were decidedly not happy with this turn of events. Down below the article were hundreds of comments all basically saying the same things he was thinking. It was gross. It was comical. It was decidedly unsexy. This. This did it. Devin was decidedly less horny, but not bored. (Today) Devin didn’t dare struggle as Anna strapped him onto the giant changing table. Already today, he’d seen someone showing even that much independence get a double dose of the yellow stuff in the syringes. Poor son of a bitch had gone totally newborn. All Devin had been able to do was watch from his spot by the blocks while the guy screamed and begged as his ex-wife stuck him in the ass with two needles and then wrapped him up in a diaper so big that it vaguely resembled a pelvic cast. Within a minute, the hot yellow wetness indicator on the mammoth Pamper had started to turn a cool teal while the bastard wriggled on the floor, crying and bawling while his wife shushed him and petted his face in long downward calming strokes. Too soon, the tears stopped, but the crying didn’t. The big baby had just forgotten how to use his own tear ducts. Then came the diapered maids with blankets to swaddle him up in; followed by a tit in his mouth to shut him up. It worked. Miss Susan had watched over the whole thing, smiling approvingly. Right now was not his time. Clearly, Anna had drugged him last night and whatever Mickey she’d slipped him had worn off without her realizing it. But as soon as he showed that he was sober, these cunts would give him a more permanent version. Devin was going to escape, all right, but he’d have to wait for an opening. He just had to get through this without showing off his hand. He had to act like a baby long enough to get away from these freaks and go from there. “Let’s see if Devin left a present for Mommy,” Anna said, unsnapping his onesie. He’d half expected one of the maids to come and help lift his feet, but it was completely unnecessary. With a fair amount of ease and a decisiveness showing far too much experience in this sort of thing, Anna snaked her arm under his knees and pushed them back up to his chest, causing his rump to come up off the ground. The babyish shirt was slid up past his bellybutton shortly after, and his legs were set back down. Despite himself, he lifted his head to see the ludicrously proportioned Luvs taped around his hips. The purple monkey perching just below the “Size 3” marking on his waistband grinned stupidly; while the crisscross purple mesh pattern- rather like a chain link fence- barely hid the swollen yellow discoloration around his crotch. The smell of cheap perfume mingled with the smell of his leavings. Anna fanned her hand in front of her face. “Yup, this one has about reached its limit. Time for a change.” The sounds of Velcro tearing from the front of his diaper scritch-scratched their way into the air as she pulled the front open. “Oh wow! What did I feed you to make that?!” she pointed to the revealed contents. Don’t blush don’t blush don’t blush. This was gonna be like bad sex, he decided. All he could really do was lay back and try to get through it without saying something stupid. If he was blushing, Anna didn’t notice or comment, instead going for a nearby wipe before snaking back under his legs and starting to tenderly cleanse his backside. “Mommy will make it all gone,” she said. “Alllll gone.” She did make it ‘all gone’, too. Devin’s legs and hips stayed firmly in the air as wipe after wipe after wipe came and cleaned the mess he’d been forced to make on himself. If it took a handful of wipes to change a real baby’s diaper, it took at least three times as many to get into the various nooks and folds of his skin. But clean him she did, and without complaint. Indeed, she did the opposite; cooing nonsense at him as she wiped, and giving his exposed tummy little tickles as she threw one away and went for the next. There were even little whispers about “what a good boy” he was being, and “how proud” she was. All the while she wiped his ass, cock, balls, and taint without hesitation or rest. Overnight the woman had developed the concentration of a Buddhist monk and the stamina of a camel. And she was pretty good at it, too. There was something soothing about having his nether regions tended to by someone else. Under different circumstances, he could get used to this. The wipes were from a warmer, as well; not cold like this morning. As she finished wiping his penis, Devin had to bite his lip to prevent a moan from coming out. It really was quite nice; just shy of a blowjob, only without the threat of gagging. “Oh…?” Anna’s remark brought Devin up from his daydream. In letting his mind wander, Devin’s member had taken the opportunity to swell and become rigid. What was going to happen now? Had he given himself away? Shit! His insane wife didn’t call out for any help, however. No oblivion-carrying needles came to him. The only thing that happened was that Anna balled up the used Luvs and tossed it into a far-too-big diaper genie. “Boys,” she said to him. “The only thing I can really change about you are your diapers, am I right?” Devin looked at her and blinked, uncomprehendingly. Was she talking to him or talking at him? He wasn’t sure. As if in answer, Anna dug around in the diaper bag and took out a fresh Luvs, unfolding it twice before slipping it underneath him. Was this his third or fourth diaper today? He’d already lost track. Did the one he woke up in this morning count? More importantly, how was his wife so good at this? She wasn’t a nurse. She didn’t have any experience with changing regular diapers, fuck all and forget about adult ones. Yet as she sprinkled baby powder over his rock-hard cock and pulled the fresh crinkling mass up between his legs, Devin got the distinct feeling that she’d done this before. It was only his second or third diaper change as an adult. It obviously wasn’t her second or third time changing an adult diaper. So, who had she been practicing on? What kind of sick kinky fucker had she been cheating with? The Velcro tabs were done up: first the left, then the right. Up went his legs again, even farther back this time, and Anna reached down and yanked the bottom of his onesie down under his bum. Swiftly she buttoned the snaps closed between his legs, completing the change. “All done,” she said, giving his padded crotch a pat. “All better. Isn’t that right, baby boy?” Oh God. Under different circumstances, this would be almost hot. Almost. Miss Susan approached the changing table, a suspicious and knowing look in her eyes. “Not quite,” she said. “He has the look about him. It’s time for his booster shot.” Anna tilted her head to the side and looked Devin square in the face. “Yeah,” she said. “I guess it’s time. It’s been fun playing with him like this, though, for a change.” Her hand ruffled his curly brown locks. “But I miss my real baby boy. Thank you for reminding, Miss Susan.” “My pleasure, dear,” the plastic harpy replied. “We all need reminders from time to time, and that’s what this day is all about. Reminding yourself who you threw away so you can better appreciate who you received in turn.” She knew. They both knew. They all knew. Luck had nothing to do with it. They’d known he was in his right head the entire time and had been getting off on him knowingly degrading himself. Since yesterday, everything had been a sick game. The game was up, though. Devin couldn’t take it anymore. “This is sick, Anna. This whole thing is disgusting.” Anna ignored him, instead turning to look at the Matriarch of this little cult; that’s what it was, a cult. “It was fun while it lasted,” she said. “My little Devin always was good at keeping secrets.” Devin’s indignant rage was cut off as Anna reached over and tweaked his nose a little too hard. “Just not nearly as good as he thinks he is.” “Oh, he can’t help it,” Miss Susan replied. “It’s in his nature, after all.” (Yesterday) “Fuck me, Daddy!” Somehow Devin got even harder at being called ‘Daddy’, his lust increasing even as he continued to thrust in and out of the girl beneath him. Strange, considering fatherhood is what he was specifically trying to avoid, but something about it just made him want to explode inside her. “Hrn! Hrn! Hrn!” He grunted as Jenny lay beneath him, her legs up over her head and her free arm sneaking its way between her legs. “Pull my hair,” she moaned. “Please, pull my hair!” Her eyes were closed, lost in the sensation, yet he could not take his eyes off her. By God, this was hot. It was remarkable what a twenty-something girl could do for a thirty-two-year-old man’s self-esteem. At home, he was ‘Devin’, and ‘honey,’ and other meaningless, powerless nicknames born out of habit. Here? Right now? He was ‘Daddy’. Here, he could truly be himself. No guilt. No shame. No responsibilities. Here, he was king. He slowed his rhythm just enough so he could lean in close and whisper in her ear. “Say my name,” he said. “Ask me right.” Still inside her, he stopped and waited as the realization dawned on her. This was a fun game. Which one of them would ruin it first? Which one wanted it more? Eyes still slammed shut, the look of desperation on Jenny’s face grew with each passing heartbeat, it was Jenny (of course) who caved. “Daddy! Pull my hair, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplease pull my hair, Daddy! Please!” Smiling, he resumed thrusting and obliged. Things reached a fever pitch a few seconds later. Jenny reached up and grabbed the back of Devin’s head, going for a kiss. He resisted. Make her work for it. “DADDY! PLEEEEEEASE!” That last ‘Daddy’ did it. In one giant symphony of passion and lust, the two lovers orgasmed in unison, with Devin collapsing in a heap on top of her before rolling over. Jenny was panting. “I love you,” she said, as she peppered him with kisses, each one a separate little ‘I love you’ declaring her devotion for him. He took her gorgeous blonde hair and played with it; wrapping around his fingers. “Well…all right then,” he replied. Smug. Satisfied. Content. Rather like a lizard basking on a warm rock. That’s how Devin felt, and he rather liked it. Jenny, of course, ruined the moment. “What?” she asked. “What do you mean ‘Alright then’?” She drew up and away from him, taking her golden tresses with her. Devin sat up from his spot on the motel bed. “You know…” he said, lamely. He always hated this part. “I mean I accept your love and you for feeling it. What’s so wrong with that?” “Do you love me?” Jenny asked, already beginning to pick her clothes up off the worn carpet floor. That was the problem with younger women: They were quick to fuck, yes, but they were quick to get attached too. Devin had figured that her being an unpaid intern at his office meant she would have kept this professional. He’d buy her nice things, take her out to expensive ‘working lunches’, give her the cushiest jobs, and he’d get a little action on the side. A bit of a tits-for-tat arrangement. He hadn’t gone all ‘Fifty-Shades’ on her and ironed out all the rules or made her sign an NDA; but wasn’t the age old Social Contract good enough? Apparently not. “Do? You? Love? Me?” she repeated. “You’re really, really fun,” Devin offered. “That’s not the same!” she screeched. Still naked, Devin pre-emptively leaned against the door. It wouldn’t do to have Jenny running out all upset. “What am I to you?” Jenny asked. “What is this? Who am I?” Devin shrugged, nonchalantly. “My lover?” “You have to love someone to be lovers.” Apparently to be someone’s lover, you had to love them these days. Who knew? “When are you going to tell Anna?” That caught him off guard. “Anna?” “Your wife?” Obviously, he knew who Anna was, but how did Jenny know? His look must have said enough. “I’ve been your errand girl these last six months, asshole. I helped file your tax returns!” Time to take a different approach. “Look,” he said, “you’re right. You’re absolutely right.” He held up his hands in a kind of condescending calming gesture. “My marriage is failing- has failed- big time, and it’s not fair to you. I’m just…working some stuff out.” “Like what?” Devin scratched the back of his crew-cut head. How to bail out? “Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day.” “So? You don’t have kids,” Jenny said. Then she spat, “Not that you claim anyways.” This being his first major affair, barring a prostitute or two in cities far away, Derek wasn’t sure if she should feel insulted at that insinuation. “Yeah,” Devin said. “But she’s trying to get pregnant, and I feel like it’d be really shitty to break it to her tomorrow.” His intern looked thoughtful for a moment. “Why break it to her? What if we just ran off? You could just not come home tonight.” Tenderly, he stepped up and took her in his arms, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Oh, baby girl,” he said. “I am way too old for that eloping shit.” She pulled away. He stopped her. She didn’t struggle further. Point made on both ends. “How about we talk about this in a couple of days? After Mother’s Day?” The word ‘Mother’ seemed to trigger something in Jenny. With her big beautiful baby blue eyes she looked up and asked, “Do you want kids?” Uh oh. The only thing scarier to Devin than his wife knowing about his mistress was his mistress wanting kids like his wife. “No!” he said a little too quickly. “Not with Anna, anyways. With you, though?” He let the sentiment linger. It wasn’t lying if he didn’t finish the thought. “We’ll talk about it after tomorrow?” Jenny asked, leaning back into his chest. God, he felt so strong next to her. “Right after tomorrow,” he said. By then, maybe he could find a way to break off this mess. (Today) Tied down to the matted changing table, Devin craned his neck to make eye contact with the ringleader of this crazy little cult. Some primal instinct deep inside of him recognized the look in her eye. They were going to kill him. His heart wouldn’t stop, but everything that he was, everything that he had been up until yesterday would be effectively erased. It was murder that left a babbling, drooling, pants pooping corpse. If they were going to kill him, he’d at least spit in both Anna and this Susan bitch’s smug little face. Audibly, he hocked and gathered spit in his mouth. Let ‘em know it was coming. Show his defiance up until the very end. Stupid. That was stupid. A white burping towel was draped over his face before he managed to even pucker his lips. “It appears as if your baby needs to be burped after his booster shot,” Devin heard that vampire cunt intone. “He’s about to spit up.” Cruel, tittering laughter came up in chorus as more so-called Mommies gathered around the last victim of the day. “Happy Mother’s Day, everyone.” “Happy Mother’s Day.” A shiver coursed up the back of Devin’s neck, and a tiny bit of urine dribbled into his new diaper. There was a certain soullessness that came with that monotone, eerily slow call and response. “Miss Susan?” a voice, Anna’s, called out from beyond the burp cloth blindfold. “Can I take the cloth off? There’s something that I’d like my baby boy to see.” “Of course, Anna dear.” In the movies, a bag is taken off the head of the condemned and the poor victim can’t help but look around and blink, their eyes adjusting to the light, their brains reacting to the disorientation of sudden light. Devin experienced none of this, the white burp cloth being thin enough to let light little pinpricks of light through; however, look around and blink he did. A new woman appeared to Miss Susan’s right; one of the slave maids that had been refilling baby bottles and wine glasses. Holding a silver serving tray- the needle with the golden serum resting on top-the girl looked passively straight ahead; seeing but not seeing the full-grown man in the diaper in front of her. What a wretched thing she was, Devin thought to himself. Unlike the others, she was completely bald, with pale sickly skin that only came from a rare genetic condition or from being away from the sun for far too long. Like all the maids, she wore a definitively “adult” diaper: plastic backed, four tapes, and no decorations to speak of beyond a wetness strip. Unlike the other servants, her diaper was hideously over saturated; more yellow and brown than white. Poor thing hadn’t been changed in at least a day or two. Her eyes were hollow with dark circles around them. Whatever they were about to do to him, what they were doing to her was far worse. Her eyes, though. Something about those sad, dead eyes. That’s when he’d recognized her. The spit he’d saved up dripped out of his mouth and onto the plastic mat. “Awww,” one of the Mommies said. “Poor baby needs a teething ring.” More tittering laughs. “Jenny?” Jenny’s eyes didn’t move. “Hey Devin.” Her voice was hollow. Emotionless. Broken. So many questions; most of which could be answered with one utterance. “How?” His lover let out an exhausted sigh. “You gave me up. They found me. I’m here now.” Gave up? Found her? Now? None of these words meant anything to Devin. What was she talking about? “You’ll have to forgive him,” Miss Susan said, reaching for the syringe. “Babies have terrible long-term memory. He probably doesn’t remember the last spanking we gave him, or that he tattled on you to get it to stop.” From his lover, to his captor, to his wife, the syringe journeyed from hand to hand to hand. “What’s that saying?” Anna said, her face pointed toward Devin but her eyes glaring down at a completely transformed Jenny. “’There’s a special place in Hell for women who don’t help each other,’ I think it is?” “Yes, mistress.” “And?” There was no life in Jenny’s eyes. She couldn’t cry, so a single tear dripped from Devin’s eye for her. “Here I am,” Jenny droned. Devin looked over to his wife. None of this madness made any sense. “Anna, honey, I’m so confused right now.” “I know baby,” Anna said. Almost tenderly, she wiped his thigh with an alcohol swab. “This’ll make it all better. All those lying, cheating, manipulating thoughts will go right out your little head and you’ll get to be my happy baby boy again. Doesn’t that sound nice?” “How?” Devin demanded. “How did you manage to do all of this so quickly? Just yesterday, we were married and everything was normal.” Everyone, everyone laughed at that; even Jenny. Susan leaned over and stroked Devin’s wild curls of auburn hair. “Oh, sweet baby boy,” she cooed as Devin felt the sting of the needle enter his leg. “That was five years ago.” (“Yesterday”) The mattress groaned and moaned with each thrust and pump as their pelvises collided, making a kind of harmony with Anna’s near animalistic grunts. Devin lay naked on his back as Anna rode him like a pony, encasing his sex with hers. While Devin did his best to lay still as he’d been told, sucking on his lips and gripping the wrinkled sheets to maintain his composure; Anna growled with each bounce on his cock. If there was a line between anger and lust, she was straddling it. His testicles: they hurt. His balls actually ached at this point. There had been no dinner when he got home, only fucking. His tie had been ripped off (again) the moment both feet had been across the threshold as Anna passionately kissed him and pushed him through the kitchen and into their bedroom. Clothes had become so much snake skin, shed and forgotten by the time she first mounted him. She’d been wet and grabby and intense; so intense. He was hard and more than willing to let her do all the work. That had been four orgasms ago. He’d wanted to rest; to at least get a drink of water; but after round one came round two, and so on. There was a certain way about her tonight; how she threw herself at him, how she begged and pleaded while forcing herself on him; a kind of aggression mixed with passion and more than a hint of desperation that he just couldn’t resist. Each time he came, she’d just keep grinding up against him and do whatever she could to get his motor running. Fantasies of threesomes (the good kind) had been hinted at. Promises of anal had been made at one point. “Come on, baby,” she’d pant. “One more time. Do it for me, baby. Fuck me. Keep fucking me. I want to fuck your brains out!” Devin had never had time to become soft. His load had been blown, but Anna was still cocking his shotgun, hurrying along the next release. Now his balls hurt; feeling like a pair of overstrained muscles, the pleasure for him had stopped long before she had. It was as if his wife was trying to milk every last bit of sperm out of him. Shouldn’t have done that extra round with Jenny, he thought to himself. If he knew that “trying for a baby” would have made Anna this horny, he wouldn’t have had to fool around as much to get his rocks off. Though now, Anna was practically smashing his rocks into pebbles. In the back of his mind, he was glad he slipped birth control into her coffee this morning. Warning: Failure to take could result in up to eighteen years of responsibility. If he wasn’t so exhausted he’d have chuckled at his own cleverness. His head lulled to the side. Strong, slender fingers grabbed his chin, forcing him to look directly at his wife. “Say it!” she growled. “Say my name!” “Anna! Oh Anna!” She leaned forward and hissed. “No! Say my name! My other name.” “Oh baby! Oh-oh-oooooh!” His words were cut off by the palm of her hand covering his lips. Anna’s eyes were pure raging lust. “No. That’s your name. Say mine!” “MOMMY!” he cried out. The top half of her body shot upright. She was the cancer patient at the miracle revival; touched by God. “Ooooah!” Her hands glided up to her naked chest and she started teasing her nipples; pinching them and tracing little circles around them. Finally, he was onto something! Again. “MOMMY!” “Uhhhhh! YES! YES! YES! Oh BABY! YES!” Devin smiled and crowed. “I LOVE you MOMMY!” That did it. Anna started slowing down, writhing as she climaxed; her screams erupting above her as she tilted her head ceilingward; then dying down into low moans and a kind of happy purring. Devin exhaled in relief as she (finally) dismounted. But she did not collapse into him, nuzzling his chest, as she so often did after coitus. “Good baby,” she said softly. “Very good.” Was she talking to him, or to the baby she thought was (but wouldn’t be) coming from their coupling? Devin didn’t know and didn’t much care. Right now, all he wanted was sleep. It was only with the slightest bit of guilt that he rolled to his side, turning his back to Anna while she riffled in the hope chest she kept next to her side of the bed. “That’s right, baby,” he heard her whisper. “Just go right to sleep. Mommy will take care of the rest.” She was taking this ‘Mommy’ thing a little far, wasn’t she? It was kind of a turn-off, now that he thought about it. Whatever. It was a phase she was going through, Devin knew. Now, it was time for sleep. He closed his eyes. His lids were so heavy. He barely felt that little prick in his right cheek. The sound of the crinkle didn’t register in his brain, nor did the feeling of the extra layer of padding that had been slipped beneath his bum as Anna rolled him back over. Eyes still closed, he arched an eyebrow when he felt something pulled up between his legs and wrap around his hips. He should have been wondering, but he was too tired for even idle speculation. He’d figure out what was going on when he woke up tomorrow.
  7. I MIGHT (emphasis) start a Patreon one day when I have less on my plate, and less deadlines to complete. For now, I'm happy with posting to Cushypen (I'll be back soon if you're still a subscriber) and working on Perpetual Change. (Video Game with Piece of Soap) And yeah, Pastel Mirror Episode 2 was an interesting one to write. I'll see if I can find it and share it here tomorrow.
  8. Yeah, it's what the commissioner wanted. Glad you're happy with it, too, though.
  9. Yeah. This was a fun little one shot to write. Like Black Mirror (which I'm ripping off) it's meant as the first of a collection of one-offs. Though right now, the collection is limited to two.
  10. Patch v1. BZZZT New York had seen better days. Skyscrapers were little more than burnt out ruins since the bombings; anything of even remote use had long since been scavenged and salvaged. Traffic, such as it was, no longer existed. Automobiles served as bullet riddled barricades, hurdles, occasional hidey holes, and more often, coffins, after the war spilled out to the streets. And the subway? Fuck the subway. The subway was where people went to die. When the majority of the machines gained sentience, that was pretty much it for the subway. Then there were the Hell Drums, the little riff that played over the speakers all around Queens- god knew who set them up. When the Hell Drums started playing, the neo-savages poured out of their rubble huts and hovels, ready to sacrifice anyone they could get their hands on. Fortunately, most of the neos were so mutated that their limbs were more akin to tumorous masses, and they weren’t that smart to boot. If they got ahold of you, though…Casey had almost been captured by neo savages, and she preferred not to think of it. No one knew who started the war that ended the world, or why, but that wasn’t important anymore. The only thing that mattered was survival: The Living Wyrms versus the Dead Apple. Man against Mutant. Green Faction vs. Yellow Faction. Caught up in a war for territory, resources, and survival, your ability to think quickly on your feet, and your accuracy with a gun was more important than your ability to make a spreadsheet for a sales report. Casey liked it that way. She looked over to Dan, decked out in blood-and mud-specked urban camouflage, stolen off the body of some unlucky yellow faction. Ahead of them were three more such unfortunates, all scavenging the wreckage, trying to beat the Hell drums, same as them. The difference? They weren’t going to survive. “You ready?” she asked. Dan nodded, a thin grim smile on his lips. “Then let’s do this.” Like the samurai of legend, she grabbed the hilt of her trusty blade- Mournsinger, she called it- and charged into battle, blade still sheathed. Like so many deadly skirmishes before this one, Casey let out her own particular brand of war cry. “I am the very model of a modern Major-General, I’ve information, vegetable, animal, and mineral-!” Patter songs were better for battle, anyways. High tempo. Blood Pumping. And they just caught the enemy off guard. Their heads turned toward her, not quite sure if she were a member of a rival faction or some bizarre, possibly mentally unstable new breed of neo. Meanwhile, Dan swung around their flank. He was faster than Casey, but that allowed him to circle ‘round while she charged straight ahead. The moment of impact on their targets would be in almost perfect sync. Dan wasn’t nearly as showy as she was, but that’s what made them a great couple. Her theatricality complimented and provided cover for his stealth. Too late, the yellow faction maggots drew their own blades, glowing golden in the twilight. Neat effect, honestly. Casey ducked low and drew out Mournsinger. Green energy poured out in the shape of a katana from the hilt. “Wha-?” Casey said out loud as she halved her first opponent. Dan’s own sword impaled the furthest enemy, its own blade something more out of science fantasy than science fiction. No blood. That was new. Normally Dan’s strikes were real gushers. What was going on? Together they finished the final target. Under most circumstances, this was where they started looting bodies and making their way back towards Manhattan in a mad dash to beat the Hell Drums, but Casey was decidedly preoccupied. “What the hell?” she asked, turning the energy blade over in her hand. “What the hell is this?” she reiterated. Looking at his own laser sword, Dan replied, “Looks like it’s a new patch, or something.” “My sword is green, Dan!” Casey was decidedly not happy. “Glowing energy swords don’t mesh with post-apocalyptic wastelands.” As if ignoring her complaint, Dan commented, “I think I read somewhere that some people died a few days ago playing this. The AVR was too much for them. They died in game and died in real life.” “So they’re ruining our immersion because some people’s brains are gullible?” Casey sniffed. “I dunno,” Dan said, “I kinda like the glowy laser swords.” “Can we have this talk in the real world?” Casey asked. “My immersion is already broken.” “Sure.” BZZZT Casey took off the Infinitech AVR thinking cap and got up from her spot on the couch. The ringing went out of her ears about a second later, as Dan took off his own and got up off the recliner. “What’s the problem?” he asked. “We were still kicking ass.” Kicking ass they were indeed. What they were specifically kicking ass in was “Crysis”: The flagship program for Infinitech’s new Altered Virtual Reality thinking cap technology. The virtual tech had set the world on fire, with feats of techno-neurological chicanery that made Gene Rodenberry and George Lucas’s dreams seem quaint by comparison. Over ninety percent of the world owned an AVR thinking cap, and they used it for anything from games to business meeting conference calls, all held in virtual reality via the comfort of your own brain. Casey wasn’t entirely sure how it worked, beyond having to chug a little nanite filled bottle that came with her cap. There was something about how the nanites nested harmlessly in a person’s brain, and transmitted and received signals via the thinking cap. It sounded dangerous, but every agency under the sun had scrutinized the party. It really helped the immersion experience though. When Casey put on her thinking cap, the data, backstory, and even “memories” of her character were beamed directly into her head. For a short time, she actually felt like she was another person. This data- and that’s what it was- never actually overwrote her own memories, but it was definitely a more intense feeling than anything playing simple video games caused. It was for this reason why Casey, consummate gamer, thrill seeker, and show-tunes enthusiast that she was, had been so disturbed by the drastic change in the game’s software. “Yeah,” Casey conceded, “but I was kinda hoping for post-apocalyptic kung-fu sword fight. Not off-brand Star Wars.” “Patches happen,” Dan shrugged. “There was a glitch with the data, and the easiest work around was adding a little more realism to it to make it safer for everyone.” Casey opened her mouth in rebuttal, and stopped herself. Was she really about to advocate real danger in the name of cheap virtual thrills? “Yeah. I guess you’re right. At the end of the day, it’s just a game. A little bit of fantasy.” “Come on,” Dan said, “Let’s go to bed. We’ve got work in the morning.” Casey crossed her arms and pouted a little. “Fine,” she huffed. Then, to make herself feel better, she rattled off, “I know the kings of England, and I quote the fights historical, from Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical.” “Let’s just go to bed,” Dan pleaded. BZZZT Patch v2. BZZZT The laser sword swung down on Casey’s head. “Cheap move!” she called blocking the swing, and pushing her attacker off balance. “At least wait till I’ve had a chance to log in before you-“ the gamer girl stopped. “This is new,” she said. “What ruins are these?” They weren’t ruins though. Instead of dingy gray and smoke-filled ruins of a post-apocalyptic New York City, Casey found herself fending off attacks in a brightly lit but incredible disheveled little room. School desks littered the area. A whiteboard had black scorch marks where laser katanas had been deflected. A school. Instead of the Helldrums, the Bing-Bong of a Xylophone playing discordantly chimed through overhead speakers. Just past the doorway, other students ran through the halls, their laser swords humming, hungry for the flesh of opponents. It was a school, but it was also a warzone. She parried another strike at her opponent- the yellow sword buzzing harmlessly off her green one. “Please…newb, I’m trying to think.” A third attack from her desperate foe, and Casey lost her patience. They were in what was supposed to be the common area. With incredible speed, she sliced through the mangy yellow faction cur…and shook her head in disappointment as the body dissipated and scattered into nothingness, like a Lego sculpture knocked over to the ground. “Pixels?” she scoffed. Talk about going forward by going backwards. Still. New setting. And a blood…er…pixel-bath…in the middle of a school. That had potential. Tre-edgy. That almost made up for the laser sword. Time to work the playground. “My oh myyyyyy” she sang out in the hallway, dragging her sword along the walls, leaving a scorched trail behind her. “That word’s so moronic. I could crryyyyy….I want words that lame. Semper fiiiiii, I feel supersonic!” It was her own little call to “come out to play”. BZZZT Dan tapped her on the shoulder as the scorched school melted away from the inside of her brain. “Casey, wake up.” “Huh?” Casey asked. “What’s up?” “It’s almost eleven.” Something in Dan’s voice had a hint of urgency. “So?” “It’s a school night.” There was more than a hint of condescension in Dan’s tone. “And playing that game doesn’t count as sleep.” Casey bit her lip. It was no use arguing with Dan. She’d have to settle for going to her regular classroom, before tearing up the virtual one. Maybe there’d be a mod at some point in the future where she could tear up her own school. That’d be kinda cool. “Now, young lady,” Dan all but growled, sending Casey to her room. “Life is random and unfair,” she muttered. “Life is pandemonium.” BZZZT Patch v3. BZZZT Laser sword in hand, and ready for the kill, Casey charged at her target across the street. Crysis had gotten so popular among her age demographic that the map had expanded with the latest update. Tearing up a school was too crowded, and so now would-be hooligans (such as herself) were also given an adjoining playground and park to fight to the virtual death in. “Hyaaaaah!” she screamed, running towards the yellow team player. THUNK! Like a dumb puppy that hadn’t figured out how the pet store’s glass doors worked, Casey’s face was left smooshed and pressed uncomfortably against the air. “Forshfield?” she said, more to herself than anyone else. “Noob!” Her target taunted. “You gotta get safe passage.” How was she supposed to get safe passage? The AVR wasn’t giving her the exact updates like it usually did. Using her laser sword as a pointer, the yellow faction cur motioned to a statue about thirty feet away. Only it wasn’t a statue. Statues didn’t move. From the distance, Casey could still tell how big the thing was. “I gotta fight THAT?!” Casey shouted, more to herself than her chosen enemy, who was now putting distance between the two of them. Then Casey framed it from another perspective. “I get ta fight that!” THIS was what AVR was all about: getting to do the impossible things that you couldn’t do in real life. Escapism at its best. Glowing green katana in hand, she marched herself up. “Oooh we ain’t gotta barrel of money, we may be ragged and funny-“ She’d kill this NPC by slicing through its ankles, then laugh as the thing pixelated into nothingness. “Safe passage?” the giant cyclops asked, its voice rumbling. Casey came to a halt. Singing her approach might be a good intimidation factor against other players, but it probably wasn’t a good idea against an unknown enemy NPC. “Excuse me?” “Safe passage?” The titan repeated again. “Does little one need help crossing the street?” Seriously?! Crossing the street? Little one? (Come to think of it, she couldn’t argue against the little one part, comparatively thinking.) She was about to protest, but then she thought of the smarmy little twat calling her a “noob” on the other side of the street. “Why yes,” she said reaching up and taking the giant’s massive finger, “I do need help crossing the street.” BZZZT “I’m going for a walk”, Dan said. “I need some real exercise. Wanna come?” Casey scratched the back of her head where the thinking cap was moments ago. Could people go bald from wearing thinking caps too often? Immediately, she dismissed the thought. No way would Infinitech put out a product with that major of a side effect. “You comin’?” Dan repeated. Ever competitive, Casey opted to answer by rushing for the door. Then, like hitting a brick wall, she froze. The thought of going out alone and unprotected terrified her. Agoraphobia at its finest. Pulse racing and a cold sweat breaking on her brow, Casey had to stop and close her eyes. “Um…one question,” she said, voice trembling “Can we hold hands?” Dan laughed at that, but it was good naturedly. He gave his answer by taking her hand in his and leading her out the door. And together they sang, “We’ll be walkin’ along, singin’ a song’, siiiiide by siiiide!” Patch BZZZT “Casey…” Danny called out, a tinge of sternness in his voice, “Are you doing your homework or are you playing games in there?” From her bedroom, Casey looked at the addition and subtraction sheets she’d torn out of her workbook spread out on the mattress. Each sheet was about half done…so that meant she was about half done with her homework…right? Right. And the story she had to read didn’t have a worksheet, so she didn’t really have to do that, right? Right. Michelle would tell her what happened in the story on the bus ride tomorrow morning anyways. In her hands was the thinking cap and an itch to see if she could beat Richie in a Crysis sword duel. “Almost done,” Casey called back through her locked door. Half-way was “almost”, right? Of course it was. “Mmmmhmmm…” Danny called back, a sound that meant ‘I don’t quite believe you, but I can’t prove it.’ “Just make sure you go to bed. That AVR stuff will rot your brain if you do it too much.” Casey rolled her eyes. Danny played AVR games just as much as she did. He just did it before he picked her up from school. “Yup yup,” Casey called back, turning the AVR thinking cap over in her hands. “What was that?” Danny called out. Again, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, Danny. I love you.” Big brothers were such a pain. “Aaaaahhhwww,” she faked a yawn. “In fact, I think I’m gonna go to bed,” she said, lowering the cap onto her head. “Right. About. N-“ BZZZT “What the heck?” Casey demanded, looking at her hands. They were glowing green for some reason. Gone were the super cool laser swords that they had been dueling and swashbuckling with. Now their palms just doubled as night lights. Richie’s own palms were a fluorescent gold. “Must be a new patch, or something” Richie said, looking around. The virtual school building, once a wasteland of burning laser sword marks was pristine. Desks were all perfectly in a row, now, a virtual sunshine outdoors. What remained was the sound of heavy footsteps and shouting as players ramped themselves into action. Casey touched a heavy oak teacher’s desk, hoping that the outline of her palm would be singed onto the desk. Acid fire touch; how boss would that be? She was disappointed. “What are we supposed to do?” she wondered aloud, looking at her useless green hand. “Slap box?” A mischevious grin came over Richie. Regret settled into the pit of Casey’s stomach. Getting smacked in the face by her friend seemed a lot less than fun. “No way. You wouldn’t hit a girl, would you?” “Technically, I’m not hitting you if it’s AVR, is it?” Richie raised up his hand, palm open, licking his lips. Casey clenched in fists, satisfied that the green light was glowing through the cracks between her fingers. Richie’s eyes widened a bit when he saw the fists and he lowered his hands. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” They stared at each other for a long hot minute before Casey unclenched her fists. Despite the intense nature of the stare down, Casey was very much aware of the sound of happy children playing all around them: clomping feet going up and down stairs, and squeals coming from outside. “Weird new patch, huh?” Richie asked. Together they went over to a nearby window. A long, not-quite exasperated sigh leaked out of Casey. “Looks like they’ve still got the street crossing thing.” Then she added, “I was hoping they would have gotten rid of that one.” “Why?” Richie asked. “The hand-holding thing makes it more realistic.” Casey’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, I was just hopin’ to get away from reality for a bit. Sometimes it sucks not being a grown-up. My big brother bosses me around.” Her friend joined in on the sulking. “Yeah,” he said. “mine too. What about your Mommy and Daddy?” “They…” Casey started and then came to a crashing halt. “Huh…I don’t know, now that I think about it.” Richie cocked his head to the side. “Huh…me neither.” Again, there was silence as they stared out the school window together, their silence contrasting with the shouts and giggles of the other kids. “ “I think the grown-ups are the only ones who get the super cool games.” Casey broke the silence. “Kids are just stuck with Crysis.” “Yeah.” Richie stretched his hand out. “Bein’ grown-up is gonna be awesome.” Casey felt his hand come down on her shoulder. BZZZT Casey looked around the playground. Kids her own age were in the most heated battle of tag ever. Jungle Gyms and monkey bars were being turned into mountainous metal escape routes. Kids were shimmying up swing sets to avoid each other’s touch and flipping down to get the drop on one another. “What in the?” Casey exclaimed. This wasn’t quite laser sword fighting, but there was some serious ninja stuff going on here. What was that fancy word for running and flipping all over the place? “Parker!” she yelled. That was it! Delight turned into wide eyed wonder when she saw a green handed kid tag a yellow handed kid. One moment, the yellow kid was there, in jeans and sneakers and bejeweled t-shirt, the next she had vanished in a flash of blinding yellow light. That’s when she connected the dots. “Teleport Tag!” she squealed. With that, she sprinted towards the nearest crossing point to put distance between Richie and her. No telling when someone would tag him and he’d pop up here. “A fish is an animal that lives in a brook,” she sang, “it can’t write its name or read a book.” BZZZT Her session out of time, Casey came back to the real world and found herself dressed in her hot pink Barbie pajamas. Even in the complete and utter darkness, her jammies seemed to glow. She stole a look at the palm of her hand to make sure it wasn’t glowing; this might be some new patch, for all she knew. Her hand did not glow, and thus she reasoned she was back in the real world. Game Over. But what time was it? A strange crinkle followed her as she stumbled toward her bedroom door. Non-glowing hands clumsily probing, Casey found the light switch, squinting as the light flicked on. After her vision cleared, she glanced on the wall across from her bed. The little hand of her kitty-cat clock was on the…nine! It was nine o’clock. It was waaaaaay past her bedtime. She made a move back for her bed so that she could peel back the comforter, and heard the same quiet rustling when she took a step. Stopping, she looked down at the floor. Perhaps a piece of paper was stuck to her foot. She moved again. Crinkle. Step. Crinkle. Step. Crinkle. Step, step. Crinkle, crinkle. Finally, she noticed that something felt strange about her panties. Checking first, as if someone could see her, Casey pulled out the waistband of her jammies. “Goodnites,” she declared. But she didn’t need…oh wait…she was already a little wet. Maybe she did need bed wetting pants, come to think of it. Something still bugged her, though. Casey was very sure that she had put the thinking cap on in regular clothes. That meant someone would have had to have changed her into her jammies. Looking over to the thinking cap, still on the pillow where she’d laid her head, was a sticky note that answered her question. It read: “We’ll talk about this when you wake up. Sweet dreams.” Then there was the kind of fancy squiggly writing that grownups used when they were writing their names. It looked like D-a-something-something-y. Danny maybe? That wasn’t right. Casey didn’t know anybody named Danny. Grown-ups sometimes called her Daddy “Dan”, though. Daddy! Of course! It was Daddy who had come in and dressed her for bed! Daddy…who had distinctly told her not to play with the thinking cap so much. A lump settled into the bottom of Casey’s stomach. She was going to be in so much trouble tomorrow. Defeated and dreading school in the morning, Casey turned the light back off and crawled into bed, crinkling all the way. As her eyes closed, she sang to herself: “To fool the people is it’s only thought, and though it’s slippery, it still gets caught.” BZZZZT Patch 5. 14.1.16 BZZZZT “This,” Casey panted. “Is…too…hard…” “Whaddya…mean…?” Jane asked, also panting. Both girls were bent over, their hands on their knees, with their tongues practically waving out of their mouths like dogs in heat. “This is…” Casey began, “supposed…to be…a game…isn’t it?” To make her point, she held up her single, green glowing hand. Only one hand glowed at a time lately. Casey thought it had been a glitch, but as far as she could tell from talking to other kids at school, it was supposed to be a feature. In an attempt to make the game more of a challenge, the latest patch made it so that you could tag an opponent with one hand, but not the other. If you tagged someone when it wasn’t your team’s turn to be “It” or if you tagged them with the wrong hand, you lost. Not exactly a “Crysis” but whatever. Right now it was the right hand. Sometimes it’d be the left. Either that or she was forgetting how to tell the difference. That didn’t seem likely though, being in Kindergarten as she was. She totally knew her left from her right. Totally. Around them, the sounds of pattering foot steps echoed through the empty sim hallway. Likely the yellow team. The game was afoot. But Casey couldn’t muster the energy to do much more than walk. “Should we…go get ‘em?” Jane said. It might’ve been a whisper, or it might’ve been that she was too winded to talk louder. Casey started to ask, “Why am I…?” “So tired?” Jane finished the sentence. “I think it’s…a feature,” she said. “Feature?” After another ten seconds of heavy panting, both girls were able to stand up right. Their hands were starting to blink. That meant that soon it’d be their turn to run away from the yellow team instead of toward. “It’s like…” Jane paused, no longer out of breath, just “to make it more challenging. More realistic, too.” Casey pouted her lip out. “I don’t want THAT kind of realism. I want explosions and junk.” “But this feels really real,” Jane pointed out. “If our hands weren’t glowing, we wouldn’t know we were at preschool.” Casey didn’t catch the “preschool” part, but instead honed in on the lack of flash the current game had. “Yeah,” she said. “But this is basically virtual tag. The cool part about virtual reality and video games and stuff is that you can do things that you’d never be able to do in real life. If I wanted to get tired while playing tag, I could just play real tag.” Jane held her chin for a second. “Good point. I’m gonna go play real tag.” Jane faded from the scene, becoming not so much invisible, but see through- like cellophane- as she removed the thinking cap from her head in the real world. “Wha’?!” Casey yelped. “No! That’s not what I meant!” She dove through the still vanishing silhouette of her classmate, her arms pinwheeling as she crashed to the AVR rendered floor. BZZZZT “NO!” Casey called out in the darkened classroom, sitting straight up, cold sweat dripping down her brow. All around her, the other boys and girls slumbered peacefully on their nap mats, blankets drawn up to their chests and their thinking caps still on their heads. Casey’s own thinking cap had teetered off and came to rest where her head had been moments before. A pair of long and slender legs strode up besides the now wide-awake girl. “Everything all right?” Teacher asked. “Did you have a bad game?” “Huh?” Casey said, quite confused. Something was off, and it wasn’t just her thinking cap. “Where’s Jane?” She shifted her weight. Were her panties thicker or something? It felt like she was wearing several layers of Goodnites all on top of each other…and they were wet, to boot…all of them. Teacher squatted down, patting the little girl on the shoulder. “Casey,” Miss Teacher explained. “There’s no one in our class with that name. You were probably talking to another little girl in another class.” “Oh yeah,” Casey said, realizing how silly she sounded. That was one of the points of AVR. To be able to play with other kids all over the world. “Do you want to go back to sleep?” Teacher asked. “Maybe you can go tag Jane again.” The little girl frowned, feeling the squishiness in her bottom. “No thank you, ma’am. She’s gone.” A strong, gentle hand rubbed Casey’s back, not so much trying to soothe Casey back to sleep, but to show empathy. Casey appreciated that. “Well, if you’re up, you’re up.” Teacher decided. She took Casey by the hand and stood up. Casey followed the lead and started to stand up. “Let’s get you changed before the others, and you can help me color while we wait for the others to wake up.” Changed?! As Casey rose to her feet, her Velcro laced sneakers muffled by nap mat, she felt her underwear sag down towards the ground, almost like it wanted to lay back down for naptime with the crumpled blanket on the floor. “Where are we going?” Casey asked Teacher in a hushed whisper, her neck craning up a bit, even though she didn’t need to to look the grown-up in the eye. “Bathroom,” Teacher said, her voice an equally hushed whisper. “We always get you cleaned up after nap time, sleepy head.” “Oh…yeah,” Casey said, feeling like the kid who didn’t get the joke but laughed anyways. By “bathroom”, Teacher had really meant a tiny little room with just one toilet and a sink. It was barely big enough for two people- one kid and one big person- to comfortably fit in; yet in they went. “Pull down your pants like a big girl,” Teacher said, her instructions echoing off both the bathroom tile and around Casey’s brain. “What?” Casey asked, feeling a sudden surge of anxiety. Teacher wanted her to what?! “Be a big girl and pull your pants down for me,” Teacher repeated herself. “Or do you need me to help you?” A beat passed. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go back down and finish your nap?” A lump forming in her throat, Casey slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her teal leggings and bent over as she shimmied her pants down past her ankles. The thing left drooping from her hips was hideous. It puffed out like a sponge that had had too much to drink, the smell of her own urine mixed with perfume suddenly very, very present in her mind. The lame baby cartoon characters, all in sleepy little night caps, snoozing on crescent moons and their faces distorted by swollen up pulp didn’t make the white-tinged-with-yellow garment look any better. Awful. An abomination. It was kind of cold, too. As Casey stood there, almost mesmerized by the site of the awful thing she’d apparently peed in, Teacher wasted no time. She grabbed the tapes of Casey’s diaper (eww….that was a gross thought) and ripped them off one at a time with one hand and caught the diaper between Casey’s legs as it fell; throwing it away in a nearby wastebasket without even bothering to ball it up. Embarrassed, Casey hid her face in her hands. What the…? Casey pulled them back when she caught something out of the corner of her eye. Why was her right thumb so wrinkly and red? Had she been sucking on it? A cold, wet cloth found its way into her upturned hands. “Here,” Teacher said. “Clean up.” “Clean up?” Casey asked, looking at the wet wipe. “Aren’t you supposed to…?” Teacher snorted. “Nope,” she said. “You’re a big girl. You can wipe yourself.” Brooking no argument, Teacher turned around and exited the bathroom, giving Casey a moment of privacy. She shuddered at the cold touch of the wipe, at first, but then felt a kind of itchy tingling down below. The reality at what she’d done was only now beginning to sink in. She’d peed all over herself, and if she missed a spot, she’d get an itchy rash all over. Using the wipe to get into every nook and cranny of her delicate skin, Casey began to sing to distract herself and keep a kind of rhythm with her work. “Cellophane,” she sang, “Mister Cellophane, should have been my name, Mister Cellophane. Cause you canlook right through me, walk right by me, and never know I’m-“ “That’s very pretty,” Teacher said, her sweet voice causing Casey to jump, booming as it was off the quiet of the bathroom wall. Casey threw the wipe away and bent her head. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “Take off your pants,” Teacher told her. “What?” “How else are you going to step into your Pull-Ups?” Teacher asked, holding something much thinner than a diaper in her hands. “Phew,” Casey said, seeing the welcome sight of the light lavender colored training pants. “I thought that was gonna be another diaper.” “You’re getting to be a big girl,” Teacher assured her. “You only wear diapers at nap time, silly goose.” BZZZZT Patch v. BZZZZT “Cut the blue wire.” “I’m not cutting the blue wire.” “Why not? Cut the blue wire.” “It’s never the blue wire.” “That’s what they want you to think.” “They want me to think it because I’m right.” Casey and Bobby were on the pre-school floor, playing their favorite game: Cry Sis. It was a box with a count down timer that started the moment you lifted the lid. Then you and a friend had to cut the wires with the special safety snippers in the right order. The real trick to it was that the order that the wires had to be cut changed every time, and if you so much as brushed against the wrong piece, it was enough to lose the game and send a giant burst of silly string into the air. A bomb toy: So big-kid. So cool. Casey couldn’t believe that Teacher let her play with it. Daddy would have a fit if he knew. Good thing Daddy didn’t know. Why was it called Cry Sis? Casey had no clue. Probably because it made somebody’s baby sister cry when the silly string blew up. At present, Bobby was doing everything he could to try and psych Casey out. Easier said than done, though. Casey never lost at these games. “Don’t touch the sides,” Bobby said, pretending to advise her while trying to unnerve, yet only succeeding in mildly annoying her. Leveling the play snippers at her friend, Casey said, “Don’t worry. I won’t. See how steady my hands are?” With the ease of a surgeon she held the snippers perfectly parallel to the ground. “Now hush before I run out of time.” Down, down, down, the snippers went, aiming for the red wire, the good ol’ red wire. “Do you have to potty?” Casey froze. Damnit. She kinda did. It was one of those things where if she wasn’t thinking about it, it wouldn’t bother her, but now that she was… “I hate you so much,” she stated flatly. “You are such a meanie head.” “You could always go potty,” Bobby suggested, thumbing to the open bathroom door in the classroom. Teacher always made sure the bathroom door was open if nobody was on the potty, so that little ones who were still learning could just run if they needed to. Casey was one such little one. Casey stared at the countdown timer. It was hard to tell what the little blinking lines meant (she hadn’t learned all of her numbers yet), but she had the distinct feeling that if she went to the potty, she’d run out of time and lose the game. As if reading her thoughts, Bobby said, “Orrrrr, you could have an accident.” The world went side to side as Casey rattled her head with a resounding “no.” They were big kids. They weren’t supposed to wet their Pull-Ups on purpose like they were diapers. Diapers were for babies, and Pull-Ups were for “Justin Case,” whoever that was. “Then you better go.” Gritting her teeth, and ignoring the now painful buildup in her bladder, Casey reached down with the snippers and went straight for the red wire. Good ol’ red. “Pardon me boy,” she whisper-sang to herself, steadying her hands and her nerves, “Is that the Chattanooga Choo-Choo?” Just. One. Snip. BZZT “Well darn.” Bobby crossed his arms a few moments later, snippers still in his hand, and silly string dripping off his face. “I thought I had you for a minute there.” Casey had the biggest smirk on her face. “For a minute, I thought you did too.” “Really?” “Nah,” Casey giggled. “I’m great at this stuff. The bestest.” It had been an intense game to be sure. Literally down to the wire. It had been so unbelievably intense that Casey had…had…oh no! Casey raised herself from her spot on the floor, praying that the papery, dry, crinkle meant that her training pants were still dry- or at least just a little bit wet. Looking down at the floor, she craned her neck as lifted her pastel pink dress to check the status of her Pull-Ups. The sigh of relief was immediate and audible. “And I still have all my stars,” she said. She looked at Bobby, clad in overalls. “What about you?” Bobby bit his lower lip, grinning sheepishly. “I’m probably wet.” “Probably?” Casey snorted. Then she remembered that being in overalls, Bobby probably couldn’t check as easy. That’s what he meant…probably. Her playmate was quick to disabuse her of this notion. “Mommy and I are taking a break,” Bobby said. The little girl felt like a parrot, but she couldn’t help herself. “Taking a break?” Bobby spread his legs wide and pointed to the inseam of his pants. All up the legs and into the crotch were little brass buttons. Casey’s eyes went wide from shock. If she weren’t such a big kid she would have had an accident right then and there. “I’m not wearing my big boy pants,” Bobby said, blushing. “But that means you’re a…you’re a…” Casey just couldn’t say it. She was too embarrassed for her friend. “A baby?” Bobby asked. “So?” “A dirty cheater!” Casey shouted. “You were tryin’ to get me to worry about going potty when you didn’t have to! No fair!” They both laughed at that. Bobby picked himself up and waddled over to the computer table- the bulge of his wet diaper widening his gait- bringing back two of the fancy thinking caps. Teacher said that there were special educational games on there, with letters and everything. “Wanna try a different game?” he asked, slipping one over his head and offering the other one up. “First I gotta go potty,” Casey said, finally remembering to let the hem of her dress cover her big kid undies. “But then you’re -“ BZZT “Okay pumpkin,” Daddy said, slipping off the fancy thinking cap. “Game time’s over. You’ve had enough for one afternoon.” Casey blinked. She’d just been at pre-school, hadn’t she? Or was that the game? Casey couldn’t tell anymore. The special “thinking cap” that played games with her was so fancy it got hard to tell when she was playing the game or not. She looked around. Where were they? The light “walla-walla” of people talking softly all around them, coupled with the electronic buzzes and dings of pinball machines and old 2-d games filled her ears. An arcade? Smells of bread and cheese and tomato sauce permeated the air around her. A restaurant? Both? “Wait a second…” Casey said, taking in the scene. “…this place is for little…” All around her, boys and girls her own age sat at tables with their Mommies and Daddies cooing and talking to them as if they were just dumb babies, and from the smiles on their collective faces, they were loving it. One girl, her hair pulled back into pigtails and face smeared with pizza sauce was clad only in a big disposable diaper as she bounced around in her high chair, her breasts bouncing with her while she clapped her hands and shoved more food into her mouth. But she was the same age as Casey. That meant….? “No,” Casey whispered to herself. The little miss snapped her head down past her own (thankfully covered) breasts to examine the state of her own undies. She was still in the same dress she’d been wearing at school; that much had been real at least. But when she lifted up the hem of her dress, it wasn’t a Pull-Up that was staring up at her. No stars. No fade-when-wet designs. No big kid decorations like Sophia the First; just Sesame Street characters. Two yellow tapes were very firmly and obviously on the landing zone; she didn’t even get the dignity of “easy tear sides” so that it looked more like big girl panties. Definitely a diaper. She was only supposed to wear these when she was sleeping. But there were no pictures of cartoon characters dozing peacefully with little nightcaps and pillows. This was a daytime diaper. This was what ba- Her own inner monologue was interrupted as a plastic tray slid into place, clicking as it separated her top half from her bottom. Frantically and still in a state of denial, Casey tried to bring her legs together, but found she couldn’t quite make her knees touch through the bulky padding. The diaper (not her diaper, though) was out of sight but far from out of mind. “Dinner first,” Daddy said before stepping around to fasten a bib around her neck. . “Then we’ll play a little.” A waitress gave Daddy a little wink as she dropped off a plate of undoubtedly microwaved lasagna. “She’s a real cutie,” the server said, indicating Casey. Daddy grinned as he stirred around the kiddie meal with a plastic fork. “Reminds me of my little girl at home.” Little girl? Little girl?! She was a big kid, darnit! She didn’t need to be fed or wear a bib, let alone a diaper! There was so much wrong with this picture that Casey wasn’t sure where exactly to begin. Daddy made the decision for her, when he scooped up a heaping pile of pasta and cheese and began moving it along an invisible track straight for her mouth. “Open up. Here comes the choo-choo. Chugga chugga chugga…” “Daddeeeeee,” Casey whined, “I’m a big girl. I can feed myself!” Daddy stopped the fork train, and chuckled a bit. “Oh really?” he asked as if she had just said the cutest thing in the world. “Well okay, pumpkin, if you think you’re big enough, you give it a try.” Carefully, and with deliberate slowness, he turned the fork around, offering Casey the handle. Using both hands, the big girl reached out and took the utensil. It wobbled and bobbed in her grip. So light on one end, and so heavy and clumsy on the other. The snippers for her game at preschool were so much easier. Mouth and eyes wide open, Casey caught Daddy trying to hide his laughter behind his hands while she fed herself like a big girl. The lasagna didn’t even make it to her chin before the plastic fork went tumbling down onto her bib and sliding safely down on to the plastic try…maybe she wasn’t so big after all. “But…but…”Casey stuttered. Where had she gone wrong? Maybe she was gripping the fork too hard. “Let me try again.” “Oh, I think once is enough for tonight, baby.” Daddy said, reloading the fork. “I think your hands are still a little too shaky for forks, still.” “But I diffuse bombs,” Casey insisted. For the first time in a while, Daddy looked confused, like he didn’t quite understand. Then he stole a glance at the special cap he’d set aside on the table. “Oh, Casey,” he said, “that’s just an AVR game. In AVR’s you can do lots of things you can’t do in real life. Just because you can do all that neat stuff at daycare-“ “Preschool” Casey corrected him. “Daycare,” Daddy insisted. “Just because you do that stuff at daycare, doesn’t mean you can do it in real life, yet.” “But I’m not a baby!” Casey pressed, realizing just how much of a baby she sounded like. “I had Pull-Ups and everything!” Daddy didn’t say anything. Instead, in reply, he bent over and his hands disappeared under the tray pinning Casey into her seat and under the hem of her dress. She felt the distinct squish as his finger pressed against the front of her diaper, giving it a little squeeze to be sure. “Sure feels like a wet diaper to me.” He was right. But the Pull-Ups? Going potty? Beating Bobby at Cry Sis? Was that all just a part of the thinking cap game, too? “Yeah, honey,” Daddy said, dangling a big pink diaper bag from off the floor, “I think we’re still a ways from getting rid of this.” Casey sulked, even as she felt another trickle enter her already wet diaper. She didn’t even feel it first. How in the world could she have managed to keep Pull-Ups dry? “I’ll change you right after dinner. Now open up. Here comes the choo-choo.” Casey just blushed hot, barely coming to grips with the situation, and opened her mouth for the Chattanooga Choo-Choo. BZZZZT Patch v. Casey sat at in the breakfast nook, playing with her pancakes, cutting the remains into smaller and smaller pieces until they resembled a kind of sugar-sweet mash more than flapjacks. They had long since passed that critical point where the cakes had absorbed the syrup, destroying any semblance of crisp fluffiness with butter and syrup on top. The desecrated pancake remains would, more than likely, find themselves in the garbage disposal. Playing with her food wasn’t the most “grown-up” thing in the world, but it was easily the most childish thing she’d done in a bit, and it was a glorious relief to think that. “Damn, it feels good to be back to normal,” Casey said to herself as much as Dan. Sitting across the table, an equally stunned and relieved Dan had already devoured his pancakes- a luxury he had now that he no longer felt the need to cut up his girlfriend’s food- and fiddled with his napkin. Anyone lacking context might assume it was a simple nervous tick- the way he wrung the cloth paper in his fists, but Casey suspected he was quietly resisting the urge to wipe her mouth. The news said that side effects of the reprogramming might linger for a bit in all of “the affected”- a nicer, more politically correct term than “victims turned into freaks,” but in time even those little quirks would fade. There’d been talks about a class action lawsuit against the company responsible- Infinitech- but how big could a class action lawsuit get when it involved roughly 92 percent of the world’s population? Even the people who profited claimed that their perceptions had been altered with the rest of the globe. With all the craziness that happened, no one noticed that the diapers were being manufactured in bigger and bigger sizes until it was too late- not even the manufacturers. That was the story that every other corporate entity was going with, and they’d likely get away with it as long as they stuck to their stories. And to think, it all came crashing down thanks to some rando named Jim, or John, or Jeff. Infinitech wouldn’t have any money left after the world’s governments were done with it, anyway. Casey likely wouldn’t get back enough money to recoup their losses from all the diapers she’d gone through. At least she had her dignity and her mind back. Her boyfriend shared her sense of relief. “You think you had it bad?” he chuckled dryly. “I was the one having to do all the dirty work. You’ve got a cute little ass, hon. But that doesn’t mean I wanna wipe it.” A warm pink flush came over Casey’s entire body. God, she missed this. The flirting. Being looked at as something other than a simpleton or a child or whatever those damn VR signals were doing to everyone. That hokey little showtune was right: How lovely to be a woman. The wait was well worth while. “But you were so good at it,” she teased from her seat across the table. “I didn’t even get a rash.” Almost unconsciously, she wriggled in her chair, reveling that there wasn’t even the hint of a crinkle as she did so. Dan’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard. “You know,” he said, his voice a little hoarse at first but picking up strength as he continued, “so much of what’s happened seems like some kind of freaky dream.” “Tell me about it,” Casey agreed. “Near the end, it got hard to tell what was real and what was AVR.” “But,” Dan continued, licking his lips. “You know what I never got to do?” “What’s that?” A sly, fox-like grin spread over his face. “I never got a chance to spank you for being naughty.” With deliberate slowness, the young woman stood up from her chair and walked, sashayed even, not waddled, to her man and sat in his lap. “Yeah?” she asked, already knowing where this was headed. “Yeah,” he whispered back. She could already feel him getting hard through his khakis. Leaning close into his ear, sensually, seductively she whispered. “Can I still call you Daddy?” “Oh yeah” he groaned softly. “Call me Daddy. Call me Daddy anytime. Who’s your daddy?” This was a little quirk she could live with. “You are.” she said, her hand caressing his chest, before snaking down towards his belt. If she had her way, neither of them would have their clothes on by the time they got to the bedroom. Casey might not be a big baby anymore, but that didn’t mean that she and Dan couldn’t try and ma- BZZZZT Casey woke up in her crib, the funny little hat that Daddy put on her head at bedtime to help her go night-night still attached and secured, the strap under her chin. Like so many dreams with the special hat, what she’d been dreaming about had faded fast, going wherever dreams went when somebody woke up. This one had seemed important, though. Apprehensively, she sucked on her paci, building up a steady rhythm. Her apprehensive paci sucking turned into relieved paci suckling as Daddy’s face came into view. “Did you sleep well, baby girl?” he asked. She had, she supposed, but chose not to respond. That question was something Daddy asked every morning, and as long as she wasn’t crying, he assumed she had. The baby girl giggled a bit as Daddy reached down, his big strong hands tickling her cheeks a bit as she unstrapped her special hat and put it back in its special spot on the dresser. “Let’s get up, sweetie pie,” he said. She rolled over, and gripping the pretty pink bars of her crib- a perfect match with the pretty pink walls of her nursery- pulled herself up to her knees, steadying herself on the mattress. “Good girl!” Daddy praised. “You’ll be walking in no time. So big!” He flipped a latch on the outside and lowered the railing. No matter how many times he did this, Casey was always caught off guard and she fell face first into Daddy’s arms. “Awww,” Daddy cooed. “You just can’t wait for your morning hug, can you?” Casey favored him with a giggle. “Now up we go.” With a slight groan, Daddy scooped her up and pivoted around to the changing table. A muffled squelch came from Casey’s diaper as she first sat, then was laid down on the padded table. Like every morning, she playfully tried to hold Daddy’s hand to the front of her lavender onesie and lifted her hips into it. Also like every morning, Daddy would give a good natured series of “No-no-no’s”, before unbuttoning her onesie and sliding the bottom of it up past her curvaceous hips; then thanking her for being such a good little helper for her morning diaper change. Diaper change? The thought left a bad taste in her mouth as the sound of Velcro tapes ripping off their landing zone rang out in her ears. Why was she getting a diaper change? Hadn’t she been wearing Pull-Ups just a few days ago? But why would she be wearing big kid underwear? She wasn’t a big kid, was she? Casey’s own wonderings came to an abrupt halt as Daddy began to wipe her down with baby wipes, the cold, wet towelettes, pressed forcefully into her tender flesh. Once again, she was a good little helper as she lifted her legs so Daddy could wipe her hiney and slide out her wet diaper from underneath her bum-bum. Fancifully, she wriggled and kicked her legs in the air while Daddy balled up and threw out the old diaper before reaching underneath the changing table and getting out a fresh one. Yup. No Pull-Ups. Definitely another diaper. Definitely not a big girl. How silly would that have been? As if to reinforce her own thoughts, Daddy slid the new diaper under her and grabbed a bottle of baby powder. It wasn’t called big-kid powder, was it? Nope. Yet as Daddy rubbed the powder in and the sweet smelling aroma wafted into her nostrils, making her smell as pretty as she felt, a very unchildish groan came behind the rubber nipple still in her mouth. “I know, I know,” Daddy cluckled, pulling the diaper up between Casey’s legs and pulling the sides up- first one tape, then another. “You’re hungry.” Come to think of it, she was hungry. Casey lifted her hips again, so Daddy could re-button the snaps of her onesie. She didn’t try to grind up against him, this time. She was hungry. Besides, it was never as good when she was dry. All snapped up, Casey was scooched off the table and down onto the soft carpeting on the floor. Her fingers curled, toes wiggled in unison, while her knees wriggled; luxuriating in every fiber beneath her. On impulse, she felt the need to drop to her belly, nuzzling the soft floor with her face. “Come on, baby doll.” Daddy’s voice called her back to reality. He had walked over to their rocking chair, (how did grown-ups do that anyway?) her morning bottle already in his hands. He must have brought it in with him and left it nearby. Gosh, he thought of everything. “Come on, Casey,” he said. “Crawl to Daddy.” A smile on her lips, and drool starting to pool at the corners of her mouth, Casey pushed herself up from the carpet to all fours and began to crawl for her breakfast. The dry, rustling crinkle of the fresh diaper didn’t even register in her conscious mind; it had always been there, it was the soundtrack of her life. “Up we go, again,” Daddy welcomed her as she climbed up onto his lap. Within seconds, one nipple was out of her mouth as another was slipped in; her paci being swapped out for her ba-ba. A bit of wriggling later, and she was sitting comfortably, cradled, loved, and safe like always. Greedily, unabashedly, she guzzled down the baby formula as Daddy gently rocked them back and forth in the chair, the wooden squeaking and soft swaying just being another part of her life up to that point. Speaking of soundtracks, while Casey drank, Daddy softly, tunelessly sang to her. It was a silly song, but Daddy liked silly songs. “How lovely to be a woman, the wait was well worth while,” he half-whispered, half-sung to her. “How lovely to wear mascara, and smile a woman’s smile.” Casey didn’t know what this masked kara stuff was, but she knew how to smile. She slid her lips off the bottle, and gave him a big toothy grin. A hearty, heavy belch followed, and they both laughed at that…though Casey wasn’t entirely sure what was so funny. “Who’s your Daddy?” Daddy asked. What a silly question! For the first time that morning, Casey spoke. “You are,” she said, her hand caressing his chest, before snaking down towards his belt. Casey froze. Something was wrong about this. Something familiar. Like from a dream. But that was the point of dreams, wasn’t? They were filled with stuff that didn’t happen. Something was wrong. Something was definitely wrong, but Casey couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Something was different, but what…?! What?! Whaaaaaaaat?! As Casey froze, drowning in her own ponderings, Daddy’s nose wrinkled. He’d already figured out what was different, apparently. “Uh oh,” he chuckled. “Looks like you weren’t done when I changed you.” Casey shifted her butt on Daddy’s lap. He was right of course, but that wasn’t what she was thinking about. Something besides her diaper was bothering her. Or maybe it was the diaper. Something inside her brain told her that she shouldn’t be wearing one at all, but in what world did that make sense? “No big deal.” Daddy said, picking her up and giving her padded bottom a loving pat. “That just means we get to do it again.” Something was wrong with this. Something was very wrong with this. But what? She didn’t know. She just didn’t. As she was laid back down to get her second diaper change of the morning, Casey started crying. And like most babies her age, she wasn’t exactly sure why.
  11. Wow. Being compared to actual authors (even ones I'm not familiar with) is a real compliment. Thank you. I'm quoting this so I can find copies of those books. Just did a word count. This novella is roughly 76K words long. However, if I choose to do a redux of this, I'd definitely take your advice and expand on the backstory. This was originally written as a piece for Cushypen, and it's a pay site (so I've already been paid yay!), so in my own interests I obviously skipped to the kinky part quickly to make sure readers got their money's worth.
  12. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment. I have my thoughts but I don't want to throw off your imagination.