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Ersatz (Part 7)
🕑 Added 2023-05-17 10:51:05 +0000 UTC(Christy)
Christy’s body was up before the rest of her was. Her muscles felt both rested and exhausted, like she was somehow sleeping and up all night having sex at the same time. She breathed in deep heavy, relaxed sighs and watched the world through half open eyes that did not fully comprehend.
Reality played in snippets shorter than the average TikTok video. Blackness. Then Granny. Then blackness. Then flying. Then blackness. Then sitting. Then blackness.
“Open up,” Granny coaxed from Christy’s dream. Christy lifted her head and moaned a wordless complaint. She was rewarded with the sweet taste of peaches. “Now, now don’t be fussy. You all knew we’d be getting up early.” Christy swallowed and drooped her head back down to her chest. Blackness.
“Up up up. That’s right. Have some bananas.” Damn giant wouldn’t let her sleep!
Christy growled but lifted her head up anyways. Banana flavored mush was spooned onto her tongue. Christy chewed it unnecessarily and swallowed. Her expression turned sour with the swallowing and she stirred some more. The chewing had required enough effort and coordination that the rest of her brain had started to boot up.
“Come on,” Granny chirped. “Eat up.” The plastic spoon was far too deep into personal space. Rather than say as much Christy tried to clumsily shove the spoon away. “Okay, I’ll give you a minute, dear. Come on Brittney, eat up. Good girl!”
Christy rubbed her eyes and smacked her lip, trying to process the current goings on. Groggy. That half asleep sensation that wasn’t quite an emotion. More than groggy. Numb. Mentally and emotionally numb. It was like waking up from anesthesia, that slow rise into consciousness, the flicking of a switch from off to on while the computer warmed up.
An interesting bit of trivia, unknown to even Tyler: Many conventional sedatives have the opposite effect when used on horses. What is meant to put the animal into a sleepy haze instead triggers a fight or flight response. It is most likely a result of different brain chemistry and receptors, but to Christy the reasoning was much less complex.
Even domesticated, horses were still prey animals. Deep in their horsey brains, they knew that to be too restful meant death. As a species, eternal vigilance was the price for staying alive. So when the horse begins to feel unnaturally sleepy, they realize that something is inherently wrong, and adrenaline and heart begin to work overtime to compensate.
Christy wasn’t a horse, but as the first bits of her conscious mind started to resurface, her body played the part beautifully. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” she screamed, thrashing and kicking, her heart thudding, her brain panicking.
Her eyes and ears awoke fully, and started operating independently of the rest of her. Her limbs lashed and struggled; grabbed and fumbled against the restraints as a matter of reflex. Meanwhile the rest of her brain carefully cataloged every other sensory detail it managed to decode.
She wasn’t in bed. She was sitting up. A harness over her chest kept her from slumping over onto the feeding tray and drowning in a multi-sectioned plastic plate had two of it’s three sections filled with pureed fruits- aka baby food. The third section had once been full, but it had been scraped clean of all but trace amounts.
She was in a highchair. A bib had been affixed around her neck and covered her otherwise naked breasts. Save for the diaper around her bottom, she was naked. The diaper was wet. Not warm. Room temperature. Like an overnight pad that had yet to be changed.
Confusion.
Outrage.
Betrayal.
Humiliation.
Suspicion.
So many emotions swirling around in a hurricane in her head. Her struggling slowed and her senses expanded outside of herself. She was in the kitchen. So were her friends. Woken by her screams, they too started and jumped back into the world of the waking, though not as violently as she. Their faces betrayed them going through a similar processing of emotions and realizations all the same.
Granny had taken a step back, and folded her hands calmly in front of her. The lights above buzzed. No trace of sunlight in the room. Either very late or very early. Christy wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and rubbed the resulting mushed peach residue on her bib. Probably early. The microwave clock to her far left confirmed it. Not quite 6 A.M.
As usual, it was one of the others to speak first. “What the heck, Granny?” Brittney scolded. “This wasn’t part of the plan!”
Granny looked part abashed, and part annoyed. “I’ve been trying to wake you all for over an hour,” she said.
“What?” Drew shook his head in disbelief. “No…?”
Granny raised her right hand as if taking an oath. “I’m serious. I poked my head in and tried to wake you up, but you all kept mumbling about wanting to sleep. I gave you about fifteen minutes more, but you still wouldn’t wake up.”
“Physical touch?” Tyler asked. His face blossomed pink for some reason. Christy wasn’t sure why. “Shake us awake? Shoulder tap?”
“I did!” Granny promised. “You even sat up. I went to get some clothes for you, but when I came back, you were all lying back down and snoring again!” There was an odd playfulness to her tone. She wasn’t mad. Just inconvenienced. Irritation balmed by a sense of adoration.
This made some sense to Christy. She couldn’t speak for Brittney and Drew, but Tyler had talked in his sleep more than a few times over the years. “You were feeding us.” she said. An observation. Not an accusation.
Granny seemed to take it as one. “I had to,” she said. “My first charge, my first real baby, will be here any minute. I didn’t want to leave you alone and I couldn’t risk his parents seeing you sleeping outside of a crib.” Christy rubbed her eyes and twitched. Gloria. Not Granny. The big woman’s name was Gloria.
“So you set us up in highchairs and started spoon feeding us?” Coming from Brittney, that was an accusation.
Gloria shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do? If we’re going to get walked in on, I’d rather you all be in character.” There was a general grumbling amongst the four of them. The lady was pushing it with the baby treatment, but she had a point.
Still…
Suspicion.
Too good to be true.
Too tidy.
Too convenient.
Sterile.
Forced compliance.
Unfair.
Worry.
The swelling wave of uncertainty inside Christy was cut off with a loud but jovial knocking.
Shave-and-a-hair-cut. Two-bits.
Gloria whipped her head sideways towards the sound of the knocking. “Speaking of which.” She took two broad steps, then stutter-stepped and remembered herself. “I’ve got to get that. Don’t go away!” As if they had a choice.
They waited until the giantess was out of sight before discussion resumed.
“Anybody else getting creeped out yet?” Drew asked.
Brittney nodded in agreement. “This doesn’t feel right. I can’t say what, but something feels off.”
Drew’s face scrunched up. “Definitely. I feel like I had a bunch of Nyquil or something.”
Brittney agreed. “Definite medicine head.”
Tyler was oddly quiet. Her husband was at the farthest highchair from her and had been silent. He should have said something by now; Tyler always loved putting his two cents in, even when it added nothing to the conversation. He was kind of a know-it-all that way.
Christy leaned as far forward as the highchair restraints would allow to get a better glimpse at him. Her husband was doing the same; the leaning that is. His eyes were decidedly not looking for her. Why was he staring at Brittney?
“Brittney,” Christy said. “You’ve got some um…stuff on your face.” Brittney let out a quiet gasp and quickly used the bib to wipe her mouth, exposing her breasts.
Tyler’s eyes almost bugged out of their head. He slammed them shut and leaned back in his highchair. He seemed deeply disturbed, both with
That was a new feeling
Jealousy?
Insecurity?
Yes. Definitely. She spared her best friend an unseen glare. Naked breasts unholstered. Brittney was heavier than Christy, but she had bigger hips and bigger breasts. Compared to her, Christy might as well have never gone through puberty.
That wasn’t her fault though.
A split second.
Just a thought. A hunger. No. Not hunger. More like a craving. Like how one can want a chocolate milkshake even when full. For…Brittney’s breasts? Christy wrinkled her nose. That was an unpleasant yet intrusive thought.
That must have been what she saw in Tyler. A strange fixation. Disgust. Bewilderment. Shame.
Yes, definitely shame.
Christy recognized it because she felt it.
She felt something else thinking about her husband, as well. A familiar unfamiliarity. Cognitive dissonance. Uncanny valley. Active suspension of disbelief, like being willing to forget that the famous actor on screen is not who they are portraying.
But why was she feeling that with Tyler?
Something looked odd about her husband’s face, but Christy couldn’t quite put her finger on it.
“Yes, yes,” Gloria’s voice arrived ahead of her. “Please! Come in. Come in. Meet my newest little ones. Michael will be playing with them today, so let’s meet.”
The friends silenced themselves from any and all comments, all bracing for the intrusion.
Gloria led the way, followed by another giantess. A monster of a woman with platinum blonde hair and scarlet lips. She was severe and lean, dressed in business professional attire. A suit jacket and tie with a matching skirt to add a pinch more femininity. Her hair was up and her makeup pristine. They weren’t proportionally bigger than the rest of her ; but Christy’s eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the woman’s chest. Even if she were a B-cup compared to other giants, they were still bigger than Christy could ever hope to be.
Bigger
Firmer
More mature.
Hunger inducing?
Christy banished the thought.
Aiding her in that task was the baby on the woman’s hip. Christy’s mouth went dry. Wearing a salmon colored onesie was a copper haired baby boy. Or Christy assumed he was a baby boy. His cheekbones and shoulders were too well defined. Not enough baby fat. The proportions were off. If Christy had seen someone like this out the straight, she’d think him a peer, not a child.
Gloria had been telling the truth after all.
“Helloooo,” the woman cooed at them. “This is Michael. Say ‘Hi’ Michael.”
The baby with the body of a twenty something smiled and hissed. He clapped his hands feebly together and rocked back and forth in his mother’s grasp. Through lips peeled back an ecstatic smile, Christy noticed a distinct lack of teeth.
Wow! That sealed it. This really was a baby.
“What are your names?” the mother leaned in and asked.
Fear.
Panic.
Bewilderment.
Why was she talking to them? Why was she talking to them?! Did she know? How could she know?!
“This is Christy, Brittney, Drew, and Tyler” Gloria gestured to the highchairs’ occupants one after the other. “They’re too Little to talk, of course.” Gloria had a much better poker face than Christy.
The giantess in the business suit straightened her back. “Oh I know that,” she spoke without the syrupy overtones when addressing Gloria. “Just trying to help socialize them. Try to get some babble out.”
“Fair enough,” Gloria said. “It’s early though. Poor things are still half asleep, and they’re shy.”
“Ooooh,” The other woman seemed to realize. “I remember when Michael was shy. I’m so glad you helped him get over that. He’s so much happier now.”
“I do my best,” Gloria replied. She reached out and took the baby from his mother’s arms.
Hope.
Relief.
Maybe now the busybody would leave.
That hope was short-lived. The giantess tilted her head and smirked. “Uh oh,” the woman in the business suit cooed at them. “Looks like four little babies tend to wear their food more than they eat it!” She grabbed a baby wipe from off the kitchen table and ran it over Drew’s face without warning.
With the self control of a god, Drew barely reacted.
“Such a messy baby! Yes you are! Yes you are!” She sniffed. “And you need a change too!”
Revelation!
Embarrassment!
Mortification!
They’d all woken up in soaking wet diapers. Christy recognized it immediately. Was reminded of it every time she shifted even slightly. But it took a verbal reminder for her to become self-conscious about it. Having wet herself in her sleep twice in a row had felt almost normal until then.
She shifted around some more, extending her senses downward. Okay. Just wet. Wet was bad enough, but it was better than last night’s hot dogs ending up in her panties.
“I just love them when they’re this age,” the giantess laughed. “They can crawl around and explore and show emotion. They’re not those little blobs like newborns. But they’re also perfectly comfortable sitting and waiting to get their diapers changed.”
The contradiction of tone and appearance made the new intruder seem fake. It also made Christy feel much younger than she actually was. She’d met plenty of adults who were stoic at best with others of their kind and all gooey with children. Christy had found it very grating back then.
“That’s because they’re so busy exploring and learning,” Gloria said. Irritation suppressed and barely hidden in her voice. “They don’t worry about their diapers because they’ve got so much else going on. Like breakfast.”
Two whole seconds passed. The intruder’s eyebrows raised. “Oh dear, I’m doing it again!” The woman laughed. “Okay, I can take a hint.” She leaned over and gave the actual child one last kiss. “I’ll let you get back to work.” She looked at her wristwatch. “And if I don’t speed I’m going to be late myself.” She retreated out of the kitchen with a final “Bye Michael! Mommy loves you!”
“Come on Michael,” Gloria said. “Let’s see Mommy out the door.” She spared the four trapped in the highchair a whispered, “Be right back”. Then they were alone again.
“Gorilla and the basketball passing!” Tyler broke the silence with a muffled screech. “Kansas City shuffle!” He didn’t wait to be asked. “I didn’t know I was wet, guys.” His face melted into a Melpomene frown. “Did you?”
“I did,” Christy admitted. The others bowed their heads ashamed. They clearly hadn’t.
Their pallaver was short-lived. “Okay Michael, wait here,” Gloria instructed from just outside the kitchen. “Granny’s gotta go get your new friends. Stay here. That’s right. Good boy.” She strode in, possessed of a clear sense of purpose.
“We’re free to talk, but not for too much longer,” she said. “Gotta keep things moving along. I’ve got some outfits picked out for you. Let’s finish your breakfast. Then I’ll get you changed and dressed.”
Brittney shoved her tray away from her. “I’m done.”
“Me too,” Drew said. He wiped his face, even though someone bigger had already done it for him.
“Same,” Tyler said.
Christy said nothing, but shoved her plate of baby food away from her all the same.
“Are you sure?” Gloria asked them. “Now that you’re all fully awake, I don’t mind letting you feed yourselves.”
“I think I speak for everyone,” Brittney said, “When I say we’ve kind of lost our appetites.”
Gloria had the decency to look down at the trays and seem slightly embarrassed. “Fair enough.”
Two by two they were released from the chairs and carried into the living room, girls, then boys. Their freedom from confinement was non-existent as they were deposited directly into the playpen from last night. “We’re not going to try to escape or attack you,” Drew said after the boys were plopped inside with them.
“I know,” Gloria said. “I just thought you’d appreciate having some separation from the baby.” The giant, adult looking baby crawled around the perimeter of the playpen, babbling nonsense and pressing his face against the mesh wall. “In fact, give me a second.”
For the third time, she jogged out of sight, this time towards the kitchen. If respecting their autonomy as adults meant abruptly abandoning them, then Gloria was being extremely respectful. Ten seconds later she was back to cradling the baby in the earthy pink onesie and feeding him a bottle.
“That’s right, Michael,” she cooed and fawned over him. “Drink it up. Drink your ba-ba.” The baby was suckling before the command was given. “Thaaaaat’s right. Baby loves his milk, doesn’t he?”
Hunger.
Envy.
Is that what she looked like when she was drinking from one of those?
Gloria set the little boy back down on the play mat in front of a television big enough to be a small movie screen. “First drink your ba-ba then we’ll watch some cartoons.” She gave the copper haired crawler a pat on top of his head and stepped back to the playpen. “His Mommy feeds him breakfast before he gets here,” she explained.
She leaned over and plucked Tyler out of the playpen. “Come on, let’s get you changed.”
The remaining three blanched and avoided looking before the tapes ripped off the landing zone. Christy stared past her breasts and down at the puffy, drooping, swollen thing taped around her. It fit well. It fit too well.
“Dang,” Brittney whispered. “Now I understand why she keeps treating us like this. We’re dead ringers for this world’s babies.”
“Except for the teeth,” Drew shuddered. “Do you think the adults have to shave them?” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. He shivered again and looked at his fingers, not sure what was wrong.
Out of place.
Wrong.
Different.
Uncanny Valley.
“No.”
Something was still wrong. Her senses still felt scrambled. The world and her thoughts blurry.
“There we go!” Gloria’s voice seemed to add to the blur. Tyler was lowered back down into the playpen. Drew was lifted up, next.
RRRRIIIIP! RRRIP! “Oh wow! You are soaked! How did you not leak?”
From the other side of the play pen Christy took notice of her husband. He sat on his bottom with his legs splayed wide, staring at his newly clothed body as if it were a mystery to him as well. Gloria had dressed him in a fire engine red t-shirt. In lieu of pants, a pair of children’s overalls had been pulled onto him. Overalls felt like the wrong word; they didn’t go ‘over all’ with the legs stopping above Tyler’s knees. The inseam of the legs had brass buttons that popped together like a onesie and the thin denim all but completely failed to conceal the outline of the fresh diaper underneath.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Instead of some country bumpkin, Tyler looked more the part of an infant play acting as one. Then there was the matter of his face. Christy had woken up next to that face for years. Something was wrong. Everytime she closed her eyes to remember, she saw that same face, crawling around in a nursery and filling his pants.
That wasn’t from a memory. That was from a dream.
A knock-knock-knocking caught the group’s attention.
“Oh, it never fails,” Gloria muttered. Then called out. “JUST A SECOND!” She finished taping a fresh diaper onto Drew and then proceeded to high step it over the baby gate towards her front door.
The friends remained gravely quiet, this time. No time to talk. Nothing to really talk about.
Christy stared up at the changing table towards Drew. He’d been left strapped to the changing table, a diaper was still the only thing on his person. He’d turned his head away from the gang, making it so she could only see the back of it. Not seeing Drew’s face oddly helped. When she pictured him in her mind, there was a distinct clash with how he presently appeared.
Wasn’t Drew supposed to be…fuzzier? Bushier?
Confusion
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Gloria’s voice preceded her. The three playpenned friends gathered at the end closest to the baby gate. The big man in business casual did not follow Gloria over the babygate, but he looked in. “Playpen’s back out,” his voice deep and bellowing like a thunderstorm. “New batch of Littles?”
“Mmmhmmm,” Gloria said. She reached out and took the baby from him. This one a girl, her dirty blonde hair up in pigtails. Her clothes a baby blue dress. ‘Dress’ was a generous designation: Considering how little covered up the girl’s diaper, it was more of a t-shirt that had frills on the sleeves and bottom. It was tight enough that Christy could make out the shape of the girl’s boobs.
Boobs!
She smacked Brittney sharply on the arm. “Ow…!” Brittney hissed and sneered at her best friend.
Christy pointed to Brittney’s chest. She’d had her arms crossed, purposefully and self-consciously covering her breasts in front of the stranger. That was showing modesty that under one-year-olds weren’t supposed to possess.
Couldn’t blow their cover. Not yet.
“I know you’ll take good care of them, Granny Gloria,” the man chuckled. “Just like you did Wendy.”
“You’re too kind. Have a good day at work!” Gloria, and by extension, so did the quartet waited till the big man had walked out of sight and loudly slammed the front door behind him. She bobbed the strange baby up and down for a moment, and then set her down. “Guys. This is Wendy.”
From the table, Drew picked his head up. “Um…Excuse me…”
“Keep your diaper on, sweetie. I’ll be right there.” Wendy crumpled to all fours and speed-crawled directly for the playpen. “GA-GOO!” she cooed.
Christy, Britney, and Tyler jumped back. The adult shaped baby squished her face into the netting, gumming it, chewing the fabric, soaking it with her saliva. To Christy it might as well have been acid.
“Hm?” Gloria looked over her shoulder from the changing table, her hands busy working on Drew. “Oh. Sorry!” she chuckled. “Wendy is going through something of a teething stage. Loves to put her mouth on everything.”
Drew was plopped down, wearing a canary yellow romper, and Brittney was picked up without preamble or permission. Brittney didn’t complain. She probably just wanted her diaper off.
Too bad it was just going to be replaced with a fresh one.
Drew tugged at the snaps between his legs. “Give it up, dude,” Tyler said. “These things are stronger than the tapes.”
“Can’t blame me for trying.”
“Hey Tyler,” Christy said. Tyler jerked his head towards her. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Tyler said with complete automaticity. Then started mimicking Drew, futilely pulling at his own baby pants.
Fear.
Envy.
Despair.
Tyler was barely looking at her. It was stupid, and it wasn’t the time for such things, but Christy found herself genuinely worrying. Standing there, naked in nothing but a wet diaper, squelching with every step. She felt unattractive. Not ugly. Just sexless. She might as well have been like the baby girl gumming at the walls.
DING-DONG!
Gloria had just tossed the old diaper and slipped a new one under Brittney’s butt. “COME IIIIIIIIIN!” Her voice boomed. She reached for the bottle of baby powder and started dusting Brittney. “This is why I didn’t re-lock the door.”
“Hellooooo,” another giant woman sang out. She wore a flowery patterned dress and a pearl necklace; something practically right out the 1950’s aesthetic. She carried not one, but two bizarrely adult looking babies. One redhead and one brunette Both boys. They wore only green and white t-shirts over their diapers respectively. The brunette haired one had glasses strapped to the back of his head. If they were twins, they were fraternal.
“Come on in!” Gloria said. “You caught me changing a baby.” She took some diaper cream and started smearing it on Brittney for good measure.
Christy watched Brittney’s hands drift back up to her breasts to cover them, and then stop themselves.
The two babies, also crawlers, were set down and started shuffling to the playpen. “Wow. Eight today, huh?” their mother remarked. “That’s a lot.”
“Mmmhmmm…” Gloria nodded. She didn’t take her eyes off Brittney, as if afraid that Brittney might blow their cover, or worse pee before the new diaper was taped on. “I’ve had more at once.”
“The ones in the playpen all new?”
“Yup,” Gloria said. She wiped her fingers and then started taping on Brittney’s diaper. “And this one. I’ve got my work cut out for me, I’m sure.”
“You’ll train them,” the stranger said. “You always do.” She stifled a laugh. “As long as it’s not potty training.”
Gloria laughed in full. “Oh no. They’re all much too Little to worry about that.”
Tyler frowned and pouted his lip. Christy knew that look. He’d just had something of a brain blast moment. He bit down on it and ground his jaw. Waiting to make his point.
The three crawlers not sucking down a bottle all circled and pressed themselves up against the playpen. They were just curious and wanted to say hello. It didn’t make it any less disturbing. Babies were supposed to be tiny. Minus the toothless babbling, it had all the makings of a zombie film.
Danger.
Disease.
Exposure.
“Peter! Jon!” The giantess called. “Mommy’s leaving! Mommy loves you!” The boys paid her no mind, likely unable to even understand her.
Christy didn’t get to see what Brittney had been dressed in. She’d had her back to the changing table when she was lifted up by the armpits. “Last but not least,” Gloria said. “Comfy?”
“Um…” Christy didn’t get much of a chance to respond. The question was rhetorical. Her diaper was ripped open. Christy gazed up at the ceiling and then her ankles while her privates were wiped down, powdered, and a new diaper slipped under her and taped on to replace the old one.
She was helped up to a sitting position. A purple spaghetti strap dress was pulled over her chest. It covered her breasts, but only gave her privacy in that the tapes of her new diaper were obscured.
“There we go,” Gloria proclaimed, reuniting Christy with her friends in the playpen. “All done. Under cover, and covered up.”
Brittney tugged at the hem of her own dress. Her hair had been put up in pigtails and she’d been given what very well could have been a hand-me-down from the lone girl in the group of actual giant children. It was the same style, but pure white. “About that,” she said. “Can I get a diaper cover or something?”
“Yeah,” Christy agreed. “Me too.”
“You’re not embarrassed are you?” Gloria asked.
“We’re still in our underwear,” Brittney pointed out, still tugging.
“Oh please,” Gloria huffed dismissively. “You don’t have anything I haven’t seen before. Those diapers cover up better than most ladies’ swimsuits.”
“But-”
“Do you want extra clothing in the way when it’s time to go potty?”
Brittney didn’t have an answer for that. Christy did. “No…”
“What about us?” Drew said. “I can’t take this stuff off.” He pointed to the row of buttons on his shoulder. “I’m welded in!”
The white haired giantess tugged at her own locks in frustration. “I just can’t win with you guys, can I? If your diapers are uncovered you want them covered. If they are, you want them uncovered.” That wasn’t true, but she wasn’t letting them get a word in edgewise. “What does it matter? No one here besides you and me knows you’re not babies, so modesty shouldn’t matter and if you’re actually as grown up as you say you are, then a couple extra minutes to take clothes off shouldn’t matter!”
The group collectively felt their spirits plummet. “Sorry…” Christy muttered a half-hearted apology. All this drama for wanting a longer skirt, or a pants she could pull down herself.
Gloria’s shoulders sagged. “Look. I’m sorry. You have no idea how hard this is for me. What do you think is going to happen to me if you’re discovered? You’re the aliens. I’m the one who hid them.”
“Fair point.” Drew admitted. “Sorry.”
A beat. “It’s okay.” She looked towards the kitchen. “I’ve got stuff I need to do. Three of my little stinkers need feeding. Can you help me with the fourth?
Help?
Trust!
Responsibility!
Yes!
“What do you need us to do?” Brittney asked.
“I”m going to take Wendy, Jon, and Peter and get them filled up,” the nanny explained. “Michael eats breakfast at home. It’d be nice to not have to coop him up in a highchair while I feed his playmates.”
Three out of four of them nodded in agreement.. Tyler was still in his own little world, as per usual. “Sure,” Drew said. “I get it.” Looking at the boys almost put Christy in her own little world.
“Can I take you out of there and have you keep an eye on him?” Gloria asked. “Nothing major. Just if he starts crying or something, come get me. That way I don’t have to split my attention.”
Sounded reasonable enough. “Sure.” Christy said. The others agreed.
“Awesome.” It took Gloria less than a minute to transport three of the four children in her care over to her kitchen setup. “Here,” she said, first moving the playpen closer to the T.V. and then putting the giant child inside it. “I’ll even put him the pen so he doesn’t slobber on you and put on a movie. The T.V. gets a tad loud and my hearing isn’t what it used to be. All you have to do is come running if something goes wrong. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
“Fine…”
Gloria pushed a button on the television. Then another on a DVD player beneath it.
“Okay,” she said. “It’ll just be a minute. Then you’ll be good to go.”
Tyler’s dam of paranoia finally burst open. “What do you think she meant by ‘training’ us?” he asked.
Brittney shrugged. “That was just for cover.”
“I know that,” Tyler scowled. “But who trains babies? They’re literally not smart enough to train. That’s why toys can’t be too small or they’ll choke and shit.”
Christy ignored her husband and looked at the playpen. Michael was doing his everything to try and see up over the mesh wall and get a better video of his cartoon.
“The fuck?” Drew wondered. His head was turned at the television. Christy followed his gaze. A black screen with white font, save for the deep red ‘WARNING’ title had popped up. It looked similar to the copyright warnings that most home DVD’s had back home, but the content was different.
It blinked off screen before too long, but Christy was a fast reader. She was still able to make out the words. “The following educational program is for Little or In Betweener consumption only. Make sure any and all adults refrain from viewing without proper-”
The DVD whirred and an animated ocean filled up the television, with rising water levels much like an aquarium being filled up. “HI KIDS! ARE YOU READY TO SING YOUR FAVORITE SONG?” A cartoonish voice asked, it’s body sight unseen.
Pitched up, canned children’s voices, replied with an enthusiastic “YEEEEAH” Two adult looking children jumped up on screen. One boy. One girl. Both obviously diapered. Both real, a distinct, almost glowing outline around them thanks to a bad green screen effect.
“OKAY! HERE! WE! GOOOOOO!”
“Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Baby shark!”
The group let out a collective groan of relief. SOme things were constant, even across different planets or parallel universes or whatever this strange giant filled place counted as.
“Mommy shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Mommy shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Mommy shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Mommy shark!”
The kids on screen did the stupid dance with the stupid song. They clapped their thumbs and forefingers together like little jaws for the baby. Then their whole hands at the wrist for the mommy. Pretty standard stuff. Some things were universal.
“Daddy shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Daddy shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Daddy shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Daddy shark!”
Like a goofball, Tyler started doing the dance too. Using his whole arms to vertically clap, snapping the Daddy Shark’s jaws. Drew was too! So was Brittney. It took a moment for her to realize it, but Christy was doing it, too. She’d been going through the motions since ‘Mommy Shark”, but with her hands quietly in front of her.
Now that the third verse was well underway, there seemed to be no good reason not to enjoy herself. Anxiety thawed and melted away. It was oddly therapeutic, acting like a child instead of worrying about being treated like one. With so many years being the ‘baby’ of their foursome, it was practically a foreign sensation.
Joy.
Fun.
Silliness.
Duty!
She spared a look at the playpen. Michael sat there passively, smiling a toothless smile,enraptured by the cartoon.
Relief.
Joy.
Fun.
Christy went back to playing along.
It went through Grandma, and Grandpa shark. Drew and Brittney were singing along with gusto by then. Then things took a turn for the unusual.
“Little shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Little shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Little shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Little shark!”
What was the difference between Little shark and baby shark? It was the same hand motions as ‘baby shark’. Too caught up and in too deep, Christy and the others went with it.
“Hug your friend, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Hug your friend, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Hug your friend, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Hug your friend!”
Christy found Brittney. Tyler found drew. It just felt right. Boys had cooties.
“Sit right down, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Sit right down, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Sit right down, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Sit right down!”
How long had she been standing? She didn’t know how much her bare feet had ached until she took a seat on the nice comfy padded floor, her own extra bit of padding adding to the luxury.
“Suck your thumb, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Suck your thumb, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Suck your thumb, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Suck your thumb!”
Her thumb was wet. It was getting easier and easier to follow the directions. And harder and harder to think about anything else.
Static.
Cotton.
Groggy.
“Wet your pants, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Wet your pants, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Wet your pants, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Wet your pants!”
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
“Grab your toes, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Grab your toes, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Grab your toes, doo doo doo doo doo doo
Grab your toes!”
Wrong.
Wrong!
WRONG!.
Like a horse on sedatives, Christy flew into a panic.
“WAAAAAAAAAH! NO! NO NO NO NO!” She screeched. She curled up into a little ball and started to cry, not entirely sure why. Gentle hands, normal people sized hands. Her friends.
Calls of “Christy? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
Heavy thudding footsteps. The T.V. switched off. Song over. Christy breathed as if coming up for air.
“Christy, what’s wrong?” Gloria said. The words wouldn’t come out. She could only blubber. “Will someone tell me what happened?”
“WET MY PANTS!” Christy bleated. “WET MY PANTS!”
Already? Brittney asked. “Seriously?”
Gloria ignored her and slipped two fingers into Christy’s diaper. “Hmm…you’re not that wet.”
“We weren’t even sleeping!” Tyler said. Christy couldn’t tell if he was in disbelief and talking to Gloria or mocking Christy. Maybe both?
As if in rebuttal, the Granny nanny popped open the snaps on his overalls and checked his diapers. “I don’t know how to break this to you, kiddo. But you’re wet, too.”
Wet.
Wet.
Wet.
Wet.
They were all wet. But just a little. “It’s no big deal,” Gloria said. “It happens to everybody.”
“Are you gonna change us?” Brittney asked, full of dread and hope.
Gloria shook her head. “Sorry, Britt-Britt. Diapers are expensive. I can’t change you every time you have an accident. Just try to keep them dry, okay? I’ll still take you potty if you ask.”
“Okay…” she bowed her head, ashamed, seeming more like a toddler than an adult married woman in her early thirties.
Granny pressed some more buttons on the television. “I think that’s enough of that particular cartoon, don’t you?” No one contradicted her. “How about some basic cable, instead?” She turned on the television to something called ‘Muffet Littles’ and trotted back to the kitchen before there could be debate.
Christy blinked and stared at the television. It was a cartoon, sure, but none of the feelings of compulsive elements were bubbling up in Christy’s brain. It was just a cartoon. Not a particularly good one, at that.
It looked like some Good Value Muppet Babies but…worse? They seemed appropriately tiny but their limbs were too long. Then again, that was about the size and proportion of babies around here, so it made sense. If babies were just scaled down adults in this world, and not the pudgy roly poly versions that were so familiar on Christy’s Earth, it made sense that they’d be drawn similarly in animated form.
Why Littles, though? Why not just ‘Muffet Babies’?
Tyler was standing bow legged, riding an invisible horse, as if widening his stance would make his wet diaper touch him less. “This sucks,” he whined.
“At least your underwear isn’t on full display,” Brittney snipped at him. She was back to nervously tugging on the hem of her dress, trying to stretch it down so that more of her diaper would be covered up.
“I’m still wearing a diaper,” Tyler said, defensively.
“It’s hidden though,” Brittney replied. “
Stupid.
Wrong.
Dumb.
“It’s wet,” Tyler barked. “It’s wet and I’m trapped in it.” A beat passed. “Hell, it’s more embarrassing because there’s the pretense of it all.”
“Oh you gotta be kidding me!” Drew barked. “You’ve got overalls on, dude. I’m wearing snap on P.J.s!”
Four adults, all in wet diapers. Three, now arguing over who had it worse.
Stupid.
Wrong.
Dumb.
Irritating.
Broken.
This was all broken. Why were they turning on each other? Shouldn’t they be working together? Keeping each other safe and not squabbling like….like…
“Shut up!” Christy stomped her foot. Her three companions all regarded her with confusion. She pointed at the television. “Look!”
The television had switched to a commercial. “- and gentlemen of the press!” The T.V. blared. “Monkeez has an important announcement!” It was a diaper commercial, obviously. The baby actors in it all wore diapers on full display with old-timey reporter prop hats.
They’d seen the type before. Babies in play costumes acting like adults. It wasn’t uncommon or unfamiliar.
One thing was wrong.
The baby actors all had wispy hair and chubby cheeks. Tiny limbs. Big eyes.. No breasts or signs of developed shoulders.
“Those are…babies…” Brittney said. “Real babies.”
The quartet stared at the television, as enraptured and entranced as they had been with the peculiar rendition of ‘baby shark,’ only this felt more of their own volition. They weren’t being puppeteered or controlled, but their brains were burning nonetheless.
“What…the…fuck…?” Drew asked.
From the playpen, the baby, Michael, giggled and shoved his hands into his mouth as though he were on the inside of a giant joke that the four were only beginning to comprehend.
Christy wasted no time. Toddling, and crinkling, she marched into the kitchen. Gloria was feeding the other three babies in their highchairs with relaxed ease. She was humming that same song to herself from before.
“I want ‘em off. I cry…please change me…”
“Excuse me,” Christy said tugging on Gloria’s pant leg. “Why were those babies in the commercial, baby-like?” Before the giantess had a chance to redirect or play dumb, Christy expounded. “Like they didn’t look like…’ she pointed up to the highchair’s current occupants…”like that?”
Gloria didn’t look down. She kept scooping goop past toothless mouths. “I’m guessing you saw one of those old Monkeez commercials,” she said. “Well…” she paused. “Not all people look the same where you come from, right?”
“Right…” Christy didn’t try to conceal the doubt from her voice.
“Not all babies look the same, right?”
“Right…”
“So some babies look like they do on your world,” Gloria fed another spoonful to one of the skinnier, more adult looking children, “and others look just…like…” she bent over and gently flicked the young woman on the nose. “You!”
Christy knew what to do. As surely as she’d known to wet her pants in order to play along with the song on the television, the girl bent her legs, picked a spot in the middle distance, and filled her diaper. It was easy. Almost too easy. As if a powerful and yet gentle laxative had been spoon fed into her system.
It was awful, feeling the hot, not quite burning excrement surge out of her in tiny burbling bursts. Knowing that once she started there was both no way and no point in her holding anything back. Her diaper would hold it. Practically leak proof. Just like the commercial on T.V. had mentioned.
She stood there. In the kitchen. Shitting herself without hesitation. As the last of the mess left her, her tear ducts began to go into overdrive: filling up and overflowing. “Granny…?” Christy began to blubber. “I…I hadda…” she inhaled and shouted out the final word. “ACCIDENT!”
Granny dropped the spoon she’d been holding. “Oooooh! Poor baby!” You did? Let me check.”
Christy buried her face in her hands, wiping away tears and swallowing every last crumb of pride remaining to her. The back of her diaper was pressed up against her, reminding her of what she’d done. She caught a whiff of her own excrement when Granny lifted the hem of her dress and pulled back her diaper to check.
“Yup,” she said. “That’s quite an accident. Do you wanna try going potty?”
Tearfully, Christy shook her head and mumbled through her fingers. “Please! Just change me!”
The air rushed by as she was yanked up into the air, two humongous hands lifting her up the waist “Of course, baby! Of course! Granny will fix that silly Little mush tush!”
Christy did not open her eyes at first. She knew she was back into the living room by the softening of Granny's footsteps and the audible gasps from her companions. She knew she was on the changing table by the feeling of soft padding under her back and the sounds of diaper tapes being removed.
As soon as her mound was wiped and the cold baby wipes were being dragged along her buttocks and between her cheeks, Christy opened her eyes and lifted her head.
Aha!
She looked at her legs. Her arms. She felt her face. The back down to her privates. The extra care that Granny cleaned her with, careful not to miss a spot and sure to add diaper rash cream to the most sensitive area, gave Christy more than enough time to put the pieces together. By the time the new diaper was fastened on, replete with smiling rainbow colored monkeys, Christy was smiling triumphantly as well.
“There you go, baby girl!” Granny cooed. “Feel better now that you’re all nice and clean?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Christy smiled. “Thank you!”
She was put down and patted on the head. “Good girl.”
“Does anybody else need a change?” Granny asked.
Her friends, red faced and embarrassed, all shook their heads. They were probably just beginning to feel the effects of the baby food they’d been given, Christy reasoned. Just a slight feeling of discomfort right now, only registering if they were specifically thinking and being hyper vigilant about their bodies. Otherwise they’d have to force the excrement out of themselves like Christy had.
“Okay…” Granny said. “But let me know if you need to go potty, okay huns? And it’s okay if you need changies too.”
“Yes ma’am!” Christy beamed. “Thank you ma’am!”
There was no further talking until Granny had gone back into the kitchen.
“The fuck was that?” Tyler asked, accusatorially.
To which Christy replied by clapping her hands over his face. “Where’s your stubble?” she asked. Then to Drew, the even more obvious question. “What happened to your beard?”
Drew felt his face and his eyes widened.
Revelation!
Confirmation!
Success!
All it had taken was for Christy to provoke a diaper change and to check her own pubic area. Every bit of body hair from the eyebrows down was gone. Everywhere they’d washed with that soap the other night was as smooth and as hairless as a newborn baby.
“That’s why she moved us to the highchairs,” Brittney realized. “That guest bed is probably covered in our hair!”
“How the fuck…” Drew whispered, feeling his face again and again, like he’d lost a limb. That’s what looked so strange about him. They were all smooth. Too smooth.
“We’re being played,” Christy stated the obvious. She pointed to the poor man in the playpen. “That’s not a baby, and she knows it.”
Tyler looked over his shoulder. “What do we do?”
“Whatever we have to,” Brittney said, suddenly more determined than ever. “We get out.”
Comments
I didn't say this before, but I thought it was cute how you named the children after the Darling children (plus Peter.) :) There seems to be an appropriateness there.
I love how it took a bit longer to figure it out but gotta watch out for wise old Granny!
Djangosolarboy
I like that your giving a perspective from different characters. I wonder if Christine is able to fight off the subliminal messages better than the rest of the gang because of her late night time toileting.( kinda like Fry from Futurama having no delta brain wave) Will the rest of the gang be showing us there view on losing their maturity?
