Unfair- A Diaper Dimension Novel

by: Personalias | Story In Progress | Last updated Mar 28, 2024

http://patreon.com/personalias Set in the Diaper Dimension, where Littles live under the constant threat of being adopted by Amazons and forcibly babied and mentally regressed. Clark is a Little who is doing pretty well for himself. He has a wife, a job, and a good home in a small town. All the trappings of adulthood that a Little could want. But as a teacher, his job is always walking a razor's edge for when Faculty and Staff might see him and think he deserves to go from teacher to less than a pre-k student. Read on to learn about Clark, his world and worldview, and how everything gets turned on its head.

Chapter 1
Chapter 104: Of Costumes and Masks

Chapter Description: Attending a school festival in costume allows for Clark to tap into a different side of himself.

Chapter 104: Of Costumes and Masks


Why, why, why?


I’d been mentally kicking myself ever since I woke up that Friday morning. Why hadn’t I gotten out yet?  Why wasn’t I still resisting as hard? I’d kept talking to another Little while a stranger checked and changed me. I’d been too caught up in a moment to care about wearing pants.


Not so deep down, I knew all the answers.  Knowing them didn’t make me feel any better.

I should have already escaped by now.  I should have set the building blocks up faster than I had and been hundreds if not thousands of miles away with Cassie and the Brauns.  I should be doing off the books under the table work as a nameless but rugged Little man who didn’t talk much and doing craft work while Bert slowly taught me.

Me…rugged…heh.  That was almost as funny as the thought of me not talking.

The Fall Festival came and I was still a padded prisoner of one Janet Grange.  Too many curve balls. Too many things fell through.  Too much reliance on the kindness and bravery of non-Littles.  Just thinking that stung.  Tracy was my friend. So was Beouf.  It had been foolish of me to expect either of them to take the fall with me.  Tracy was no revolutionary and Beouf was in way too deep.

So I’d had to re-build my own escape plan from the ground up.

I still should have been ready to escape by now.  I should have been biting down on my tongue from nerves until it threatened to bleed.  I should have been a walking contradiction, so exhausted from tossing and turning all night because I kept going over some plan or another, but acting saccharine sweet so that the Grown-Ups wouldn’t expect a thing. 

Fall Festival was an annoying but big event for a small podunk town like Oakshire.  Everyone in silly costumes.  All the families going from school to school not to mention any number of participating businesses. A bird’s eye view would have probably shown an entire city moving around like ants just after the hill had been kicked over by an errant sneaker.

With the right costume I could have slipped off campus by tailing the right family, jumped into the back of a pickup truck, and been halfway to Elizabeton, the next city over.   It would have taken more luck than skill, but I could have stood a chance.


Wouldn’t it have been nice to wear that mockup of my old teacher attire today?  It was still very babyish, but at a glance I could pass for a free Little. My old coworkers would have gotten a kick out of it too; thought it was precious enough to let down their guard and make them think I’d accepted my assigned lot.

Wish I’d thought of that sooner.  Fuck.

As things stood, I was wearing a train decorated onesie, sitting in the corner of Janet’s room so that I was out of sight of the open door, and nursing a pacifier like it was a cigarette.  Damn I needed a cigarette. I didn’t even smoke, but it would have been nice.

I closed my eyes and huffed, beating myself up. I still wasn’t ready to blow this popsicle stand. I was getting there, but getting all the pieces together and setting everything up from scratch was proving harder to do than I’d imagined.

That or I was still afraid to try…

I should probably find a way to log onto MistuhGwiffin again at some point, too, I thought. See if there was a way to reach out or gather additional intel.  Hiding spots to look for. Places to avoid. Routes to plan. 

Maybe see if there was anyone out there who had advice on how to help Tracy… That at least was a good reason for me to stick around, or so I told myself. Couldn’t leave my kids or Tracy to Ambrose’s continued abuse. I couldn’t properly ghost this place when I still had unfinished business to settle.

Tracy was a later problem, though. My current problem was much more tedious and embarrassing: Making sure nobody saw me. Janet was passing out cheap candy and cheaper toys at her classroom door while children made the rounds around campus.  I’d been dressed in something easy to strip off when it came time for costuming, and had gained enough of Janet’s trust not to be plopped into the playpen by her desk.

Her back was turned. I should have been looking for potential escape routes or finding a way to sabotage her classroom. Maybe there were a few errant papers I could have ‘graded’ or something. 

No. That would have been cruel and unproductive. Slipping out would have gotten me noticed and caught. This wasn’t the time.  I was merely an actor waiting in the wings to play my part. Get Janet to lower her guard even further. 

Maybe have a bit of fun in the meantime. I’d never actually taken the time to dress up for Fall Festival; only passed out candy. Costumes, by their nature, were a form of playing pretend, and playing pretend could have been just enough pretense to activate an Amazon’s Adoption instincts. That ship had sailed, so I might as well enjoy what I could. Just because an inmate went to the prison dance, didn’t mean that they weren’t still digging their escape tunnel.

I leaned into the corner, just listening to the exchanges and letting my thoughts drift. Better than staring at a clock or playing with one of the clinking, clacking, squeaking toys Janet had stashed in the diaper bag.

It would have been nice to have Lion, admittedly.

“Tricker Treat!”

“My! What a wonderful witch costume! I don’t know who you could be!”  Janet handed out a piece of candy to yet another child.

“Thank you!”

Sounded young. Not one of mine.  A kindergartener or a first grader, perhaps. Or a kid from another school. It was a possibility.

“Tricker Treat!”

“Excellent Zombie, Joshua.  Very realistic.”

“Does that mean I didn’t trick you, Ms. Grange?”

“I think it’s okay to still give you candy.”

“Thank you!”

Joshua. I’d seen that name on a couple of papers. Third grader. One of Janet’s this year.

“Tricker Treat!”

“Wow! Hyacinth! What a lovely costume!”

My skin broke out in goosebumps.  Fourth grader. One of mine, too, from way back when. I squeezed myself further back into the corner.  It was stupid, but I didn’t want anyone to see me dressed like this, today. 

Almost everyone had seen me wearing a onesie by now, but on a day where the entire town dressed up as something they weren’t, I dreaded the thought of someone seeing me like this and asking “Where’s your costume?”  I wore a costume everyday.

Unable to read my thoughts, Hyacinth took the compliment. “Thank you, Ms. Grange.”

Janet asked. “What land are you the princess of?” Sounded like she had as much of a soft spot for Hyacinth as I had. Any educator who tells you they don’t have favorites is lying.

“I’m not a princess,” came the haughty reply. “I’m a queen!” 

My laugh was stifled thanks to the binky. I stomped down on the idea of coming out of my corner to get a peek. If I could see her, she could see me.

I opened my eyes and looked sideways. Janet curtsied. “Oh, please! Forgive me, Your Majesty! I should have recognized your station with how regal your gown was!”

“Crown too,” Hyacinth said.

“Very true!” Janet replied. “That’s no tiara. Please forgive me.”

“You’re pardoned,” Hyacinth said. “Carry on, goodly school marm.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. You have tricked me twice. May you add many foil wrapped trinkets to thine coffers.”


“Get lots of candy, kid.”

I bowed my head and closed my eyes again. It really was a shame that Janet had gotten into Adopting Littles. She would have made a great mom to an actual child. Granted, it was still very possible for her to become a mother the old fashioned way, or adopt a real kid; I just wouldn’t be around long enough to see it.  I was behind schedule, but not nine months behind.  Maybe, just maybe, after I got loose she’d decide that Littles were too much trouble and find other ways to fill that void in her life.  That thought made me kind of happy.


My eyes didn’t stay closed long. I bit down into the pacifier and dug my fingers into my naked thighs. 

“Hello Ivy!” Janet chirped.

Ivy said, “Can I please have some candy, Ms. Grange?”  At least she didn’t call Janet ‘Clark’s Mommy’ or something.

“You have to say the special words,” a new voice said. That wasn’t Zoge. It had the same musical quality and way of speaking, but it was much deeper and more masculine. Mr. Zoge?

“Happy Birthday!”

Janet almost giggled. “No honey. The other special words.”

“Tricker Treat!”

“Here you go.”  I saw Janet bend over low so that she could put the treats directly into Ivy’s basket.  “Have a wonderful day, baby turtle.” Ivy’s giggle was loud enough that I thought she’d somehow teleported beside me.  Janet looked up, but didn’t straighten back up to her full height. “Did I say something funny?”

“Ivy is a Kappa,” I heard Mr. Zoge say. “A fairy tale from home.”

“Ah,” Janet said. “Then in that case, Have a wonderful day baby kappa.”

“Thank you! Is Clark coming?”

Janet stood and pointed right at me. “Clark is already here.”  She saw the panicked expression on my face and me violently shaking my head.  “But he doesn’t want anyone to see him until he’s in his costume.”

“I hope to see him before I have to leave,” I heard Ivy say.

My heart rate slowed. She wasn’t barging in. I wasn’t going to have to deal with her just yet. No stupid questions. Or getting in my space. Or practiced toddler niceties. Later. Just not now. Later was fine.

I closed my eyes again and inhaled.

“Tricker Treat!”

No one I knew or recognized.

“Tricker Treat!”


Janet’s hand lightly tapping me on the shoulder stirred me. I hadn’t gone to sleep, but I’d definitely zoned out for about ten minutes there.

“You doing okay?”  Janet was standing over me, her brain melting in baby crazy bliss at having caught me off guard.

I took the pacifier out, but didn’t let it dangle. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“You’re being very patient,” she said, like I needed to know. “I’m pr…” Her lips stopped and retracted inward. “I appreciate it. Thank you.”

I blinked.  She’d almost said she was proud of me and changed it into an expression of appreciation. There was a subtle difference there, and it meant enough for me to not be lying when I said, “You’re welcome.” I uncoiled myself slightly. “How much longer?”

“Someone should be coming to take over in just a few minutes.”   Her face was placid but her eyes were positively beaming with delight. I was showing interest and investment in something she wanted to do, too.  She’d earned that concession from me.


“Whomever the office sends,” Janet replied. “Probably a parent volunteer.” She leaned further and slipped her fingers into my diaper. “Just a little wet, but I think we’ll change you anyways when we suit up. Your costume doesn’t have any leg snaps.”

“I know,” I said. That had been a bonus feature.

She stood up and grabbed a bottle of hand sanitizer. “I might use some extra baby powder so you don’t sweat too much. Put it all over.”


“Just wanting to prepare you.”

“Thank you.  I appreciate that.” No lies detected or intended. “Can I put some back on you?”

She hesitated, but not for long. “Sure. Why not?”

I fumbled with my pacifier and stuck it back in my lips to hide my surprise. I thought I’d just been messing with her when I asked. Did this mean she’d be changing in front of me, too? I hadn’t seen her unclothed since…since…since the last time we took a shower together.

“Tricker Treat!” came a call from the door. Some kid in a skeleton costume poked their head in and looked around.

“Be right there!” Janet called back. She gave me one last pat on the head and skipped back to the door.  Meanwhile I did my best to zone back out and not think about certain things…like green goopy gel and extra pillows left in cribs.


Within the hour, Janet and I emerged triumphantly from the front office bathroom. We hadn’t made it fifty feet of shuffling outside when the comments came rolling in.

“Oh my gosh!”


“Ms. Grange, is that you in there?”


“Look at Clark! Look at Clark!”


“Guys! Look at Ms. Grange’s Little!”

Mix in a cacophony of piped in carnival music, and audible gasps and giggles from all ages and sizes, and you have the barest sliver of an idea of what the Oakshire Elementary courtyard sounded like that first minute and a half.

‘What were we wearing?’ you may ask: We were clad in the perfect so-called Amazon Mommy/babified Little theme costume. 

My costume was a baggy, khaki colored, full body jumpsuit. From the shins down, the material was colored coal black. The soles were stiff and hardened to function as shoes. Being costuming, I wouldn’t be running any marathons, but it was oddly nice wearing boots, even pretend boots.  Likewise, the belt and the elbow pads were just sections of the same one-piece that had been colored differently.  Bonus as far as I was concerned. No waistline and a baggier fit completely hid the puffiness of my Monkeez.

The one part of the outfit that I didn’t love was black name tag with red lettering that had been stitched over my left breast.  “GRANGE”.  Janet had paid extra for that. I ignored it and instead favored the crossed out wispy ghost silhouette patterned on my right arm.  

Janet’s costume was the true wonder of it all, however.  It was so cartoonishly bloated that she needed portable fans to fill out creamy fatty folds and milky lumps of the costumes arms, legs, and torso. Not even Ambrose could fill this costume out without assistance. Every movement, no matter how small, made the suit wiggle and jiggle. The sewn in strawberries, sprinkles, and jelly beans- some half as big as my face- threatened to slough off as if  the skin really was made of whipped cream and fondant icing.

The brown liner around her waist and between her legs was a kind of upturned skirt and made of a thick crinkling crinoline with extra bits of butcher paper to really nail home the aesthetic.  For once, it was the Amazon that had the more pronounced waddle in her walk.  Janet’s face could narry be seen through the viewing window that was the monster’s mouth. Most people’s gaze were inevitably drawn to the glaring cartoon eyes and the not-so-tiny-cherry on top of the head.

Connecting us together was a high end toddler leash that literally plugged into Janet’s costume. My end was buckled firmly around my chest that I had no hope of slipping out of.  The harness was part-backpack too, and I was forced to tote around my own wipes, powder, and spare diaper.  I didn’t mind that at all, since the bulky thing had patterns and etchings meant to resemble the dials, switches, and meters that were commonplace tropes in every science-fiction movie yet made. No one would be surprised if they found out I was toting around my own diaper bag, but no one would think it just from looking.

The best part of all, the part that sold me on the idea to the point where I’d been willing to negotiate with Janet, was the rest of the leash. There was a long, hard, stiff plastic wand, almost like a rifle, attached to the harness that I could carry or holster in a designated side pocket and loop as I felt inclined. Jutting out of the wand was the rest of the leash that went all the way up to Janet’s costume.  Instead of something woven, clear plastic tubing connected us together.

Bathed in the smiles and adulation of children and adults alike, I led the way to the center of the main courtyard. I unholstered the rifle wand, spun around and aimed at Janet.  My left thumb hovered over a shiny red button near the wand’s base; one so sensitive that even a Little could press it.  “LIGHT ‘EM UP!”

My thumb smashed down on the button and yellow, blue, and red lights lit up all through the clear plastic tubing between Janet and myself. The lights blinked and traveled all the way up the leash, really giving the illusion I was shooting her with my laser pack

What really made it was Janet’s reaction.  “RHEEEEEEEEAAAARGH!”   From underneath her monstrous blow up suit, she convulsed and shook her arms as hard as she could, roaring and screaming in pain as if actual laser beams were slicing into her sugary flesh.
Had it ended there, we would have only gotten mild chuckles and appreciative applause; maybe a few “Awwwww’s” from Mommies and Daddies who thought it was cute that a Little was being humored so.   We got more than just that, though, all because of Janet.

Going further than we negotiated, she slipped her arm out of one of the inflated sleeves and switched off the fan belted around her waist.  “RHEEEEEEEEEEEEEARGH!”  She squatted, then knelt, then laid down on the concrete while the costume collapsed around her.  “BLEEEEEEEEEAAARCHK!”

The Creampuff Cupcake Woman was melting!  It wasn’t as explosive as it had been in GhostHaunters One, but it was practically a high budget special effect considering.

“OOOOOOOOOOH!”  The assembled yokels cheered. Peels of laughter rang through the air and applause came down like heavy rain.  Teenagers who’d been forced to come with younger and Adopted siblings pumped their fists and howled like they’d seen an actual fist fight. Middle aged Amazons put their hands on their hips and looked at the ground as if showing mirth might somehow be illegal. Others had to swat away their jealous brats telling them in no certain terms that no, they were not doing that next year

Someone went so far as to start a chant, just like in the films. “GHOSTHAUNTERS! GHOSTHAUNTERS! GHOSTHAUNTERS!.GHOSTHAUNTERS!”

The illusion was complete. I was a GhostHaunter. Janet was the Creampuff Cupcake Woman.  I’d won.  What else could I do, except take a bow?

Janet stood up and reinflated the suit. She waddled up, bouncing with every footfall, and picked me up into her arms.  That made for another round of applause just as the last bit was dying down.  “That’s one,” she told me.

“I know,” I answered back. “Are you going to do that nine more times?”

“Don’t bet on it, babe.”

Damn.  “Fair. Had to ask.”

“I know.”

The assembled crowd which had parted for our impromptu performance closed in on us like rushing water the second Janet put me back down. We were both instantly swarmed with compliments and questions.

“That’s so neat!” a second grade girl in a black cat costume said. “Did your Mommy buy that for you?” 

I grinned. “Of course she did. Why? Do you think I’m rich?”

She giggled. “No.”

“Who bought your costume?”

“My Mom and Dad.”

I chuckled back. “Seems silly to ask, doesn’t it?” 
“Yeah…What cartoon is your costume from?”

A better question.  “Not a cartoon,” I said. “Old movie. GhostHaunters.”

“Ooooooooh!” She’d never seen it. Maybe she would.  Whatever happened, she lost interest and walked back to her parents.

A couple of older kids patted me on the shoulder to get my attention and turned me around. They looked vaguely familiar. Middle schoolers coming back for candy, carnival games, and bounce houses. Not my kids, but familiar. They wore dark clothes and black eyed goblin masks made out of glow in the dark materials.  Someone was gonna have fun when it got dark tonight.  “That was awesome, Clark!”

One of his buddies jumped in. “Yeah Clark, that was so cool!”

“Yeah, Clark!”


They lifted up the masks and wore them like visors so I could see their faces. Their expressions were the same encouraging smugness that the kitty cat girl had, mixed with a tinge of covetousness.

“Thanks guys,” I said. Looking at their faces I was able to pull their names out of my backbrain.  “Dwayne, Michael, Ricky.”   I hid my annoyance at being called by my first name with a toothless smile.  Kids thought they were grown just because I’d been reduced.  That or they thought they’d get brownie points by remembering my name. I knew just what they wanted, too.

“Can I have a turn?” Dwayne asked, pointing to the wand end of my toddler leash. There it was!  Called it!

I held my rifle wand close to me.  “Nope,” I said casually.

“Awwww, c’mon.” The giant pre-teen said. “Don’t you know how to share?” There was just enough edge in his voice to make me worry. Michael and Rick flanked him. “Mrs. Beouf not teach you that, yet?”  

Not quite bullying. I’d seen bullying. This was more a bizarre form of peer pressure and deception. They thought they could convince me to let them in on the gag under the guise of sharing.

I took the opportunity to educate. “You guys wanna wear this costume?” I asked.

“Naw, we just wanna borrow the zapper thing for a second,” Ricky said. He thought I was the one who was misunderstanding.

Let’s fix that.  “You guys going to the haunted house at the Middle School after this?” I asked.

“Yeah…?”  The trio looked suspicious, like I was threatening something. Hypothetically I could have. Ms. Grange’s reputation was much more fearsome than Mr. Gibson’s. 

I wasn’t threatening. “And the rides at the High School? You get to do that too, right?”

They nodded along. “Uh-huh.”


“It’s gonna be awesome.”

I held the one part of my costume that simulated some sort of freedom for me.  “I don’t.” I jerked my head towards the Creampuff Cupcake Woman. “This is all I got today.”

I pressed the button.

“RRRREEEEEARGH!”  She didn’t deflate that time, but she waved the massive lumpy arms in the air as high and fast as the costume would let her. Her reaction was delayed, but not by much. Amidst her own fawning admirers complimenting the lengths she’d gone to, Janet was still keeping a close eye on me.  “THAT’S TWO!”  The polite laughter of parents recognizing a child being indulged accompanied that announcement.

“I only get ten zaps,” I explained.

New understanding came over the boys. Some combination of being reminded of their comparative freedom, and knowledge that my resources were strictly limited gave them the empathy to not insist that I share.

“Oh! My bad!”


“You keep it.”   

They offered me high fives and ran towards the P.E. field.

“Duuuuuude!” A brawny teenager gently put forward his fist. “ Way to go, Little guy!  You zapped that monster good!”   The teenager was holding the hand of a child who was young enough to be in my classroom. I briefly examined the pumpkin clad tot just long enough to make sure it wasn’t one of mine. Kid looked to be Elmer’s size, so maybe he was a Tweener. Sometimes families had mixed size depending on parentage and recessive genes. 

Kid could just have been younger, too. Two years old  instead of three or four. Hard to tell the difference between a preschooler and a toddler when they were in pumpkin form.

“Dude,” the very big brother said, still holding his fist out. “Don’t leave me hanging, bro.”

‘Dude.’ ‘Bro.’  The kind of stuff you said to children to make them feel older and adults to make them feel younger.  I took it as a win. I bumped his fist and nodded respectfully.  A full blown teen. The one thing that all ages and sizes feared, made less intimidating by virtue that he was clearly taking care of his sibling.  “Pretty funny, right?” I asked.

“Heck yeah!” He winced, worried that he shouldn’t say ‘heck’ around either me or his little brother. I tilted my head, seeming bemused at his embarrassment. This was as close as I’d gotten to power in a while. 

Meanwhile, the actual child  was staring at Janet’s inflatable costume like it was a poisonous snake that might bite someone. His lip started trembling. Big brother noticed. “What’s wrong, Kyler?” 

I  tapped the child on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Kyler,” I said. “The monster’s afraid of this now. She won’t hurt anybody because if she does, I’ll zap her. See?”


The child’s eyes lit up and he started reaching for my toy. This was decidedly more of an Amazon baby than a Tweener Preschooler.  Big brother was on it instantly, pulling the kid back and hugging him up against his chest..  “Whoah whoah whoah. That’s not yours. We don’t snatch. Remember?”

“I need it to protect myself,” I lied to the child.

The pumpkin child seemed to consider this, and then nodded. Slightly concerned about the so-called monster, but no longer frightened or greedy. I threw a wink at the big brother.  He laughed under his breath and nodded his head upward in respect.. “Alright, Little dude. Alright.”  He picked his sibling up and went to get candy from the teachers and volunteers handling it out.

I breathed deep and allowed myself a smile that wasn’t a matter of beguiling or disarming someone bigger than me. I felt in control and legitimized in a way I hadn’t been for a long time.  I was getting to do more than just pretend to be a GhostHaunter.  In my own way, I was getting to teach again; getting to direct young thoughts and minds so that they could think of me as something besides an incompetent patronize or take advantage of.  If only it weren’t temporary.

My feet shuffled towards Janet.  The leash was wound up like an old telephone chord and retreated and coiled in on itself while I closed the distance. Janet was still fending off questions and compliments from parents and students alike.  People poked and prodded and asked how hard it was to get the costume on. Children showed off their own costumes and lifted up buckets of cheap candy as if proud of an accomplishment.

A sad bit of wishful thinking and nostalgia mixed into a toxic brew at the pit of my stomach. Why hadn’t we done something like this earlier? Before Adoption? We’d both worked here for several years prior. We could have set up our own game for the students; a softball toss or something.  Or buddied up our kids during the week for reading; mine the Haunters and hers the Ghosts. 

And we would have brought the house down with this! This would have been a hit!  At her worst Brollish wouldn’t be able to criticize us for a lack of spirit or saying we were doing the bare minimum.

Except I would have been terrified of Janet the second I saw that it was a Mommy & Me costume…

Somewhere out there, there was a parallel timeline, or universe, or dimension or whatever where Janet and I got to be friends without all this Adoption bullshit and baggage.

If only…

I tugged on the leash sharply to get her attention. “Can we get going Creampuff?” ‘Creampuff’ was preferable to ‘Mommy’.

“Sure, hon.” Janet waved the others off. I could barely make out Janet’s face through the viewing scream.  “‘Scuse us, everybody. We gotta go haunt someplace else.”  If someone’s voice could smile, Janet’s was doing it. “Just a second. Hold still.”

The costume seemed to melt again, while she crouched down to access my backpack. Blow up suits aren’t meant for kneeling.  I stayed still so she could zip open a shallow flap on the backpack leash and take out a sturdy piece of posterboard.

On it was a map of the campus, modified for the Festival. The front office was accessible only to staff. The main courtyard past the front office served as a gathering hub, with concessions sold in the cafeteria.  The classrooms facing the courtyard gave away candy; the breezeways and classrooms on the outside perimeter had dinky games as well as arts and crafts stations, and the P.E. field had been decked out in bounce houses, relay races, and games that took a smidge more athleticism than throwing a plastic ring or a ping pong ball.

“Play first, then candy?” I suggested.

“I like it,” Janet said. “Less time to have to lug candy around.” 

It then occurred to me that we didn’t have a bucket or bag to put the bite-sized spoils in.  “What are we gonna lug it in?”

“Your backpack.”

“Oh…” I’d gotten a close enough look at my harness to guess what would happen.  Any candy I got would be piled on top of what passed for my hygiene products.. Maybe I’d just tire myself out and not be up for shouting ‘Tricker Treat’ dozens of times.

“We’ll empty it out in my room first.”

That put a skip back in my step. “Sure.  Bounce house?”

“Bounce house.”

We walked side by side, through the breezeway I normally associated with going to and from the cafeteria, or being herded to OT/PT now that my old classroom was off limits as a shortcut. 
Mr. Renner sat lazily on a chair up against the brick wall. To his right was a slanted plywood ramp with a hole cut in it near the top. To his left was a small kiddie pool loaded with cheap plastic wrapped toys salvaged from several hundred fast food Little’s Meals.   “Wanna try to toss the beanbag, y’all?”

“What do we win?” I asked.

“You get a prize just for playing,” he said. He gestured to the tub with out of date burger prizes.

“But what if we win?”

“Get all three bean bags in a row, and you’ll get the grand prize.”

“Which is.”

Renner sat up straighter. “Come to think of it, I haven’t decided yet. Nobody’s won yet.”

I wanted to tell him what a rip off that was. I remembered my manners and settled for a  “No thank you.”

“Fair enough.”

“Can I just take a prize and pretend I played?”

Renner dug a marker out of his pocket.  “Sure. Just lemme mark it off your map so you don’t double dip.”

I took a toy. I tried to hand it off to Janet. “Carry it or it goes in your bag,” she said, not unkindly.

I settled for tossing it back into the pool.  We kept walking.  I looked up at Janet. Her suit didn’t have a neck but I had the distinct feeling she was shaking her head.  It was hard to tell if she was thinking about me or Renner.  Maybe both?

We power walked through the breezeway, bypassing the face painting station and the Make Your Own Slime stand.  Beouf had parked herself at the corner just outside her classroom.  She had a metal basin filled with water. It was so small I could have only splashed in it if I’d done a cannonball.  Bobbing up and down on the surface were an entire flock of rubber ducks.

To finish the presentation, she’d dressed herself up in hunter’s camouflage and had on some rubber waders. A gray false beard hung loosely around her neck.  It was a silly, cheap costume, likely commandeered from an actual hunter of some sort, but it was endearing in a way.

“Hey, Clark,” Beouf greeted me. She gasped when she realized who was next to me. “Janet…? Is that you?!”

“Hey Mrs. Beouf,” Janet said. She had to yell slightly to be heard over the fans.

Hearing Janet’s voice come out of the massive monster’s mouth made Melony bark with laughter.  “Wow, oh wow! That’s nuts! How much did you pay for that thing.?!”

“Enough so that this is going to be our go to costume for a long while,” Janet said.

That was my cue.  “LIGHT ‘EM UP!”

“RRRRRREEEEEEEARGH!”  Janet gave an even more full spirited performance than the first time, melting into a rubbery faux cream puddle and adding in death rattles. “I’VE BEEN HAUNTED!” Not at all from the movie, but I’d allow it.

Melony laughed so hard her glasses fell into the tub.  “Oh no-o-o-o-o!” Even in her shock she couldn’t stop laughing. “Stop! STOP! CAN’T! BREATHE!” 

Chain link rattled and a new cacophony of laughter joined Beoufs. The Little’s playground was more than close enough to see the sight, and a certain big oak tree, devoid of nearby play equipment was just a quick jaunt from the shenanigans. Two Littles, an alligator and a racecar driver marveled at the sight of my vanquished foe.

“Hey Tommy. Hey, Chaz.”  I waved, bathing in their silent admiration and jealousy. Two Amazons, what I could only assume were Chaz’s and Tommy’s Adoptive Mommies respectively, boosted them up to watch the last of Janet’s death throes. At least I assumed they were their legalized captors. It’s not like Adoption left much in the way for family resemblance save by coincidence.

 More Littles and their captors joined them at the fence, Including a lizard-turtle-duck thing. “Ivy?”  Ivy’s entire face was painted with a sharp beak pattern over her mouth. Her arms were covered in scaly sequins and her hands had webbed gloves on them.   It was kinda badass and made Tommy’s alligator costume with the convertible mask seem paltry by comparison.  Not that I’d tell her that…unless I was sure it would bother Tommy…then I might.  Fucker had it coming for trying to flick my ear.

Ivy whined something in Yamatoan and a well dressed older looking man nudged past the crowding Amazons to boost Ivy up on his shoulders.  Yamatoan. Definitely Yamatoan. Wow, he and Ivy looked a lot alike!  And he was significantly shorter than every other Adoptive parent.  Tracy might have had an inch or two on him.

Mrs. Zoge married a Tweener?!  I did not see that coming.

Janet groaned, getting herself up off the ground.  “Clark, honey,” she panted. “I don’t think Mommy’s gonna be able to do that again. Getting up and down off the concrete again and again hurts.” 

“Okay.”  I made a note to do more yoga with her over the weekend. “How about I count that last one as two so we’re up to five?” I offered.

“Yes, please,” Janet huffed. “Thank you, baby.” She hiked up the cupcake wrapper and dusted herself off.

I slyly threw a thumbs up to an astonished Tommy and Chaz. They mirrored the thumbs up right back. I was wearing a costume they might actually want to be in, and they’d just witnessed me melt an Amazon down into a puddle only for her to beg me to stop. By playground time on Monday, my reputation would be restored as the Amazon breaker. 

Beouf finished wiping her glasses and then her eyes. “Oh that was good,” she chuckled. “That was good. Thanks. I needed that laugh.”  She coughed once to regain her composure. “Should’ve filmed it.”


I nearly jumped out of my costume from surprise. “Amy?!” It had slipped my mind that anyone, even Littles not enrolled could attend the Fall Festival so long as they bought a ticket.

I spun around the wrong way and got tangled up in the leash.  Out of habit I looked down expecting to see a gap toothed maniac grinning up at me and only found furry Amazon sized clodhoppers.  The momentum, the leash, and the fact that I still had a Monkeez throwing off my gait caused me to trip with nowhere to go but the ground.

“Gotcha!” Janet squeaked, catching my fall.  She lifted me up in puffy balloon sleeves and untangled me from myself. “Maybe next time, we’ll bring your stroller,” she said to herself. “Make it the GhostHaunter mobile or whatever.”

“Hi, Clark,” Amy repeated herself once Janet was cradling me.  ‘How ya doin’?”

Amy’s Mommy was dressed in tan fur, floppy shoes, a dragging tail, with a matching hoodie, triangle shaped ears, and a black nose and whiskers painted on her face.  Amy was dressed almost exactly the same and riding in an outward facing chest harness.

A Mommy kangaroo and her baby. I shouldn’t have expected anything more.

“Hey Helena,” Janet said.  “Good to see you.”

“Hey Janet. Same. You two look cute.”

‘So do you.”

I tried to retain my composure, considering the circumstances.  ‘Hi, Amy.”

“Actually,” Amy said, “I’d prefer it if you called me Josephine, I’m trying to stay in character, and be in the moment, I’m finding I’m something of a method actor, I’d do more but Mommy won’t let me have more mucus for the pouch.”

I had nothing to say to that. Nothing to do but to change the subject. “Having fun?”

“Don’t know. Just got here.” Amy reached up and poked her Amazon under the chin. “Mommy can we go to the playground?”

“I think that’s my cue,” Helena said to Janet.

Janet put me down. “Mine too.” She made sure my feet were all the way unwrapped. “Ready to go bounce?”

Beouf audibly sucked in her breath.  “Actually, that might not be such a good idea, Janet.”

My mood instantly started to sour. I knew that tone.  “Why?” I asked.

“A bunch of the big kids are down there right now. It’s kind of crowded.”

My face was starting to sink.  “So?” 

“Coach is having a time keeping it organized from the sound of things. Had a couple volunteers bail at the last moment.”

The P.E.field beyond us was alive with activity, joyful shrieks, and pounding bass from a rented stereo system. “Then why is anybody allowed?”

“Admin pitched in…” 

That told me everything without saying it out loud. Somewhere among the controlled chaos, Brollish was on the prowl. Probably Ambrose too. Definitely Forrest.  I’d thought it was lucky that I hadn’t laid eyes on that unholy trinity yet. It had been a vile portent, instead.

“Said that it might be kind of rough,” Beouf’s voice rang hollow. She believed with all her heart that Maturosis was real but didn’t believe what she was saying now. “They’re worried that if Littles went down there, they might get hurt on accident.”

Some things started to click into place. That’s what my classmates were doing in the fenced off Little’s playground like always. It might be the one place they were allowed to go.

The higher the peak, the lower the valley.  I was consigned to the most babyish class, required to attend the most babyish part of a stupid fundraising party that I didn’t want to go to, and even beyond that my options were limited. “You’re saying I’m too Little.”

Beouf did not address me directly at first.  “She can make that call because of the volunteers dropping out last minute. It’s not directly related to teaching, or curriculum. It’s just one day. So…”

…no amount of complaining to higher ups or invoking proper procedure would do anything about it.

I said nothing. Nothing left to say. It wouldn’t surprise me to hear that Brollish or one of her cronies called those volunteers and told them they weren’t needed. Just another typical day in my life.

“You can play on our playground,” Beouf offered. She was dangling a booby prize and she knew it.  “Lots of Littles to play with there.  And their Mommies and Daddies.”

“How would that be different from any other day?”  Those words, straight from my brain, came out of Janet’s mouth.

Beouf’s heart was breaking, but she was trying her best to tow the party line; make the best of a bad situation that she disagreed with but had little power in the moment to correct. She lifted up one of the rubber ducks to reveal a square painted on its underside.  “We could go for a duck hunt. Get a match and win.”  She thumbed her open classroom door.  “Mrs. Zoge has a fishing game set up if you want to try that.” 

If I’d seen Zoge wearing those goggles and snorkel thirty seconds prior it would have been endearing.

I didn’t want to play a dumb baby game. I had to play those every single day. I didn’t want to go onto a stupid fucking playground. I had to do that every other day and just thinking about it was turning my brain into a goddamn hornet’s nest. 

I wanted to try out a goddamn bounce house! I wanted to do something designed for the young at heart instead of the smooth of brain!  I wanted at least the illusion of freedom! Just for one day! Not even a whole one! A morning would have been enough! If I’d made it into the early afternoon without directly being told that I had to or couldn’t do something, I would’ve counted it as a win!

Tantrum. I was going to throw a tantrum. I was going to see red, start crying, and then shout every single nasty thing I could think of until I turned into a raw throated sobbing angry mess. 

Things had been going so well l too…

Janet cut the fans, and ripped off her mask. Her dark hair was a mess, her face was dripping with sweat and she looked like she was wearing a suit made out of used pail liners. She looked infinitely more terrifying than the monster she’d been masquerading as.  Mommy Janet was checked out, and Ms.Grange was looming large in her stead. “That’s bull...”  Her voice was eerily calm.  Distant. Empty. Cold.

Melony looked at me and hung her head for just a second. “You’re right.” She stepped forward. “Come on. Let me see what I can do. Maybe I can work out something with Coach.”

Janet stopped her. “No.”


Janet called out. “Helena?”

From the other side of the fence came a, “Yeah?”

“They’re saying Littles aren’t allowed in the bounce houses.”

Helena Madra leaned up against the fence overlooking the sidewalk. Amy had already been removed from the kangaroo costume’s pouch and was off prowling around on the raised plot of land. “What? Not even with just other Littles?”

“Not as far as I know,” Janet said.

“What if parents are supervising?”

Janet did not shrug. “Don’t know.”

The blonde haired Amazon went from bougie soccer mom to the first member of the world’s most polite angry mob. Without hesitation she leapt over the fence and down to the walkway.  Amy made just a tiny bit more sense right there.  “Amy, don’t do what Mommy just did, sweetie.”

If Amy heard, she gave no reply. 

“Charlie! Delilah! Ginni!” She called. “Somebody doesn’t want to let the Littles bounce.” Mumbling and murmurs rippled out over the playground. There were far more so-called Adults supervising than was usual or needed.  “I’m sure this is a misunderstanding…”  The rest needn’t have been said.

A small platoon of Amazons I’d seen in passing at Little Voices exited the playground via ramp. A few strangers in tow, too. I would not be surprised if I ran into Tommy and Chaz at a future Little Voices meeting. 

Janet unhooked the leash from her costume and passed me off to Beouf.  “There’s been a miscommunication” she said to the half dozen giants. “We’re going to go see if we can help get some accommodations. I’ll point out who we need to talk to.”  

Though my head was still buzzing and my face was still flushed with frustration, a bit of hope sparkled behind my eyes.  There were two things Principals feared more than anything else: Angry parents and School Board Members campaigning for re-election.

It sounded like Janet was playing it smart to boot. She wasn’t leading these crazies, they had just asked who they needed to speak to to correct an uncomfortable oversight.  A few parents with prisoners currently enrolled mixed in with townies playing tourist turned up the pressure. This was the sort of thing I was envisioning when I imagined saving Tracy.

Alas, I was just ‘a baby’ as Amy had said.

I hoped Janet would point out Brollish before anyone else. The most spiteful part of me would sacrifice a bounce house for the novelty of knowing Brollish was having to backpedal on some shitty take of hers.

Beouf carried me up the ramp to the playground.  “Sometimes, I love your Mommy,” she whispered to me.

“Yeah…” I said, but I gave no reply other than that. 

Beouf set me down on my feet. “Just a second,” she said. “Don’t want you dragging this stuff around in the mulch…”  I stood there turning my head to try and pick out the dirty half-dozen Karens going to destroy whoever got in their path. 

“I think the leash part is connected to the backpack,” I said. “Just take that off…?” 

Her hands circled around me and started fiddling with my harness. “Seems kind of stuck.”

“Would it help if I faced you?”

“Maybe.”  .

Ivy game bounding up. “I’ll help! I’ll help!”

“Ivy, n-!” Beouf didn’t get the second word out in time. Ivy’s hands shot out, squeezed both sides of release mechanism, and just like that, I was free. “Never mind.” Beouf stood up with the backpack harness and wrapped the cord around the body of it on her way to her usual bench. “Everything okay down there, Hana?”

With a snorkel still in her mouth, .Zoge stuck a thumb into the air between tying trinkets to a Kindergartener’s mock fishing pole.

“Come on!” Ivy waved for me to follow her.  “Come meet my Daddy!”  She pointed to the Tweener leaning against the chain link fence.

As much of a curveball as Ivy’s Dad being almost as tall as Tracy was, something greater merited my attention. “Did you just undo my harness?”

“Yes,” Ivy said. She looked briefly anxious. “I’m sorry I touched without asking. I was trying to help Mrs. Beouf. Please don’t bite. I will hit.”

I wouldn’t dare bite Ivy after that. I knew she was strong for a Little, freakishly so. I just didn’t realize how strong. Amazon tech is designed specifically with keeping Littles confined and restrained. With a grip like hers, she could do more than hold hands. Ivy might have been a Littles who could take off her own diaper.  And if she could take off hers….

 Now how to find that out without sounding creepy?

“Does that mean you could undo the line they put on us for bus loop and stuff?” I pressed.


“Why not?”

“It’s against the rules.”

I didn’t have enough time to properly poke at the circular logic. Tommy toddled over with Chaz motoring behind on all fours.  “Wanna go hang at the usual spot?”

“Come meet my Daddy!” Ivy spoke over him.

“Guys,” I said. “Did you see Ivy just now? She took off my harness!”

“Yeah,” Chaz said. “I saw.”  he sounded much less impressed than I felt.

Tommy was equally blase. “I’ve had to hold hands with her before.”

Why weren’t they seeing the possibilities? Where was their imagination? “Why don’t you care?”

“She’s a baby.”

The lizard-turtle-duck girl raised her hand like I was her teacher. “Come meet my Daddy!”

My upper lip curled. “I see what you mean.”


I pivoted on the balls of my feet. “Hi Amy!” I pointed at the crawling kangaroo. “Ha! Gotcha.”

“Good one, bud,” Amy said. “Finally got me.  I like what you’ve done with the place. Is Jessenia still in good humor? I think there’s a wonderful spot by the tunnel that could make a lovely garden.”

Chaz and Tommy looked at one another with suspicion; save that it wasn’t directed at each other.  “Who’s your friend?” Chaz asked.

“Hi Amy,” Ivy said. “Come meet my Daddy?”

“This is Amy,” I explained.  “She’s uh…nuts. She’s nuts. But she’s okay.”

Ivy raised her hand again. “Am I okay?”

“I’ve been doing some experiments,” Amy rambled, “about the taste of one’s fingers compared to toes.  I find that fingers get saltier and more delicious as the day goes on, thus rewarding delayed gratification, but toes are much more difficult to obtain so the reward centers of the brain are more um…rewarded.  But that might be research bias and effort affecting the flavor profiles.  I’m considering hiring a research assistant to lick both fingers and toes back to back for comparison but I’m not sure how to quantify the variables. Also I’m ticklish. Any suggestions or volunteers?”

The boys took a step back.

Amy crawled an equal distance. “Oh sorry. How rude of me. Amy Madra, attorney at law. I used to go to this program.”

That got another step back.

I rushed behind them. I stuck my leg behind Chaz and pulled Tommy in closer.
“Guys, guys, guys,” I told them. “This is the last person who broke Beouf.  I’ve heard Beouf talking to my Mommy about what a nightmare she was.”

Amy nodded. “This is true.”  She paused  and looked positively distrubed about something. “No! Wait! My name is Josephine right now! Curses! I’ve lost my method! Wait, wait, let me start over.  I’m Josephine Kangarella, marsupial at law. I’ll be happy to represent you in Kangaroo Court! I accept payment in mucus!”

Honestly, I don’t remember if I said “Please don’t do this right now” to Amy out loud or just begged her in my mind. Whichever it was, she answered me with her eyes, and that answer was ‘no’.

“Dude,” Chaz said much too loudly. “I think that’s worse.”

“She got broke right back,” Tommy agreed.

More familiar voices called out to me. These voices, however, I normally only had to prepare for once a week. 

 “Wanna play ‘Clark says’?”

“”The floor is LAVA! The floor is LAVA!”

Shit. Fuck. Ass. Fuck. Motherfucker. Fuck!  I had two groups of marks converging on each other, and both had very different images of who I was.  I couldn’t keep the image of a cynical malcontent of Mrs. Beouf’s class and the rehabilitated nursery game leader of Little Voices.

Except I could!

I bent over and whispered in Chaz’s ear. “Dude. Shut the fuck up. I’m trying something. Give me a break.”

My first and most loyal disciple nodded in understanding. “Gotcha.” 

I was about to give some form of a half-truth and veiled threat to Tommy, but was interrupted by the loudest, most mournful crying I could ever remember hearing before or since.

My friends and I followed the noise to the very edge of the playground.  An impeccably dressed Tweener was holding a Little turtle-duck-lizard monster and rubbing her back.  I’d forgotten all about Ivy.  Somewhere in Amy’s rambling and me trying to do damage control, she’d stomped off and run right back to one of two people guaranteed to give her the time of day.


Ivy just kept saying that word over and over again. Long wails. Short gasping bursts. Everything in between.

I don’t speak Yamatoan.  Besides a handful of phrases and nursery rhymes that I learned through repetition and osmosis, I know nothing of it.  I probably mispronounce the few words I do know.  I did not recognize the word.  I’m probably misspelling it here.

The cadence spoke to me, however.  “Why?!” she was screaming. “Why, why, why?! WHYYYYYYY?!”

One foot led me in front of the other, steps crunching on the mulch.

Amy called after me.  “Clark where are you oh nevermind I see it talk to you later, bud.”

What did Amy see that explained it to her?  What did I feel?  Pity at a mindfucked Little? Opportunity for an escape if I could butter her up? Fear of being punished because I wouldn’t include a Full Native Doll in my circle of friends?  Or did I just feel guilty because this time I did a a kinda shitty thing on accident, instead of on purpose? 

I thought that if I wrote it down I’d know.  Still don’t, though.

“Excuse me, sir,” I spoke softly to the old Tweener.  “My name is Clark.  Would Ivy like to play?”



End Chapter 1

Unfair- A Diaper Dimension Novel

by: Personalias | Story In Progress | Last updated Mar 28, 2024


To comment, Join the Archive or Login to your Account

The AR Story Archive

Stories of Age/Time Transformation

Contact Us