Chapter Description: Clark wakes up in his new "home", having to prepare for his first full day as an 'baby' Little.
I woke up again; this time with sunshine streaming into the room and a giant hand patting my butt. Correction: Patting the back of my diaper. Damn thing had swollen up so much over the night that it was practically its own entity.
Bitterly, the thought occurred to me that this nighttime diaper was just as much an escape deterrent as a forced incontinence brief. If the crib bars hadn’t stopped me from getting out, there’d have been almost no way I could have gotten far with that much bulk surrounding me. I’d barely been able to roll over.
“Did you sleep well?” Janet cooed down at me. “Looks like you did.” She felt the lumps that I had deposited in the back a few hours ago.
“It’s not fair,” I reminded myself in a whisper. “It’s just not fair.”
Janet hoisted me out of the crib by my armpits. “Oh yeah!” she groaned. “Was definitely a good choice to put you in the nighttime diaper.” A second later, I was laying on the changing table. I’d been left naked save for the diaper. I didn’t need a mirror to know that my hair was a mess. My skin still had that vague pink of a healing sunburn from the bug zapper treatment.
Janet meanwhile was already put together. She wore a plain navy blue dress. I’d probably seen her wear it around campus any number of times. Her hair was combed and pulled back into a bun and for some reason, she wore a rubber apron. Her eyes though, they still had the same baby crazy as the night before. This was a madwoman with my friend’s face on it.
Something else felt off in that moment. It was a Friday. The sun was up. If not for yesterday I’d be teaching right now. “What time is-?”
My mouth snapped shut as Janet ripped the tapes off my diaper and peeled it back. I went numb and mute as Janet broke out the baby wipes and started cleaning my crotch and backside. I don’t think something like this was ever covered when I was a child; but for some reason it didn’t seem right to have a conversation while I was in the middle of having my ass wiped.
Apparently, Janet didn’t quite feel the same way. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us, baby boy.” She chirped. “We’re going to the stylist, and the doctor, and then a very very special place. I took the whole day off and left lesson plans for a substitute so we could have today and the whole weekend to get adjusted.” Adjusted? Is that what she was calling it? I just gritted my teeth with each wipe, trying to concentrate even as it felt like I was being probed inside and out.
I didn’t bother to ask “where” this special place was. What would be the point? She would’ve told me if I’d been meant to know. She wouldn’t tell me. Knowledge was another form of control that I wasn’t allowed to wield anymore. Not according to her or any other Amazon that had been in my life prior. What I did know was that I had to pee a little bit again. More proof that I wasn’t really a bedwetter or a pants pooper. Proof that I’d only be able to present myself.
For half an eyeblink, as Janet threw the last of the wipes in the used diaper and started to ball it up, I considered letting my bladder go. She wanted a baby so badly, let her see the downside with a little target practice. Problem was I wasn’t a baby. And I’m not referring to emotional or mental states, either.
I’m not exactly a stud; not even by Little standards. Amazon diapers would more than contain me. But I had gone through puberty all the same and had more than nub. When actual infant boys pee, the only direction it can go is “out”. Barely a nub there. Right then, my pecker was positioned so that if I let go I’d more than likely end up pissing on my chest (if I was lucky). I could hypothetically take aim and fire, but not even Janet- typical Amazon that she had become-would think it innocent or accidental. Not worth the risk.
So I was left with the choice of peeing all over myself and forcing janet to wipe me down more while confirming her own biases... or holding it in long enough to at least pee in a diaper...allowing Janet to confirm her own biases.
“It’s just not fair,” I whispered again.
Janet tossed the used diaper into the pale. “What’d you say, Clark?”
“Nothing,” I said. I took a deep breath and braced for another diaper...hopefully one that I could walk in and fantasize escape in. I wasn’t escaping today. I’d already made peace with that. I’d have to see the system before I figured out how to crack it. That meant being “good” for the time being.
The fresh diaper didn’t come right away though. Involuntarily I let out a yelp as Janet picked me up and held me against her. “You didn’t get to have a bath yesterday,” she told me. “Let’s fix that.” Janet’s words went in one ear and out the other. I was already freaking out about being naked.
I don’t think of myself as a prude. I don’t think there’s anything wrong or immoral with being unclothed in certain circumstances. I just think there’s a level of vulnerability about being naked around people; or even naked just by yourself. Clothes, even ones that would do nothing for you in a fight are a kind of armor in that they conceal some of your most vulnerable parts.
Being naked around someone is a sign of power and trust. Either you’re naked and feel powerful enough to expose everything, or you trust the people you’re with to see you at your most physically vulnerable. Cassie and I would be naked around each other all the time in the comfort of our own home; oftentimes doing nothing remotely sexual. We were just two people, doing our own thing and didn’t feel like having any clothes on. Other times one of us would be naked, and the other one was cold or just didn’t feel like going through the effort of shedding clothes.
Cassie and I were equals. We knew each other completely. We trusted each other.
This was completely different. I was naked in this woman’s arms, her bare hand literally cradling my butt. She was fully clothed; extra even with the rubber splash apron. We were decidedly not equals; after yesterday I felt like I didn’t know Janet at all and neither of us truly trusted each other. What were crib bars and highchair trays but restraints built on lack of trust?
Even during all four diaper changes (yes I’d counted) I’d been seen naked but it had been more of a transitory thing. Here? In Janet’s arms? I was completely naked and didn’t like it one bit. I felt vulnerable. Powerless. I actually wanted to go back into a diaper if only for the sliver of protection it provided.
Shivering but not from cold, I was carried out of the disgustingly pink nursery and into a pristine white bathroom. The bathtub was already filling up. Janet sat me down on the edge of the tub and I looked at the open bathroom door while she tested the water. Janet might not be trusting for an Amazon, but she was careless. Overconfident. I wouldn’t run. Not yet. But someday...soon maybe…
I glanced down at my own hairless body and winced again. Escape or not, this part was permanent. I’d have to get used to having the skin of a toddler. Some Littles- especially in non-Amazon run countries- still have surgeries that leave scars. Closed up gashes on legs and stomachs and chests; wherever the knife sliced them open to get at a defective organ or a shattered bone. The level of medical technology in those countries hasn’t caught up to Amazons in that regard. I’d been scarred, too...it’s just my scars were all over and completely smooth and undetectable.
I turned my neck and looked over Janet’s head and arms as she bent down and switched the water around with one hand while adjusting the hot and cold knobs with the other. I peered a large plastic Amazon sized jug that sat on the opposite edge of the tub; it’s label just barely readable at the periphery from where I was sitting. My eyes still slightly blurry with sleep could still make out the sudzy looking logo on it. “Is that…?” I hesitated. “Is that bubble bath?”
Janet’s head whipped around as if me speaking to her was some kind of miracle.. “Yes,” she beamed. “Yes it is!” She looked at me, as if trying to get a read. “Would you...would you like some?” There was a strange kind of hope in those eyes. Maybe even a kind of lust. I don’t know how else to describe it.
Mentally, I made some calculations. “Yes, please…” I said, and hated myself a bit for adding in that “please”. Janet smiled even brighter and started adding in bubble bath by the cap full; letting the still running water churn it around and mix it. Good. The bubbles would give me a modicum of cover. On a lighter note, the stuff inside the jug was a bright sky blue. No great importance, but it was a small relief after a night being surrounded by pink.
“If my Little baby Clark wants some bubble bath,” Janet said as she placed me in the tub, “then he’ll get bubble bath!” Great. She was “spoiling” me. At least I didn’t have to call her “Mommy.”
I must’ve made a face when she plunked me in the drink. “Too hot?” she asked. It was just below lobster boiling. I had barely nodded when her hand shot to the cold knob; even going so far as to splash some of the cold water gingerly in my direction. It helped a little.
“Thank you,” I mumbled, more out of habit than out of actual gratitude. No need to make waves right now. This was day one of Hell...just make it to day two. My muscles were just barely starting to untense when a rubber yellow terror jumped in my vision.
Janet had grabbed a bath toy and was now shoving it in my face. “Ducky?”
There is no way to tell an Amazon “no” and get the desired result. Saying yes doesn’t help either. I was out of words. I just kept my mouth shut and glared at her. I was not her baby. Not her doll. Right then I wasn’t even her friend.
It did not have quite the desired effect. Janet giggled. Tittered with delight even. “Oh my gawd!” she cooed. She dropped the rubber duck in the foamy water beside me. “Are you giving me your ‘teacher’ look?” I said nothing. Just doubled down. “You are, aren’t you?!” She was blushing, but it was for me, not at me.
I started trembling, vibrating even. Anger? Fear? Righteous indignation? All of the above and more? Yes.
The stare down was not having the desired effect. I was never quite the terror of campus, but I’d at least been able to make a second grader or two walk away and get back to class. “Cutie,” Janet said, “that wouldn’t have worked on me back when we were co-workers.” Carelessly, whimsically even, she palmed a few suds and rubbed them into my head. I now had a bubble hat... “It’s definitely not going to work now.”
To hammer in the point, she grabbed her phone out of her rubber apron and clicked a pic faster than I had time to realize what was going on. “No! Don’t!” I cried out.
“Aaaaand post,” Janet said. She slipped her phone back into the rubber apron. “So cute.” She was absolutely giddy.
My attempt at a glower just melted to something more of a mope as rage transmogrified into despair. My bath picture, naked save cotton candy scented bubbles in my hair, had just been posted online. It was the first of what would no doubt be many more photos and indignities that I’d have to endure today.
I didn’t have to wait long for worse to come my way. Babies didn’t bathe themselves. Janet grabbed a washcloth and dipped it in the soapy water. “Give me your arm,” she said. It was nicely put, but it was still a demand.
No choice; no point in resisting. Even though I would have loved to have splashed so much to have made her rubber apron pointless; I wasn’t ready to test those metaphorical waters. Littles that openly rebelled so hard and fast got their minds fucked out of their skull via a hypno screen. So, I gave her my arm and let her rub up and down my arm.
“Thank you,” she told me.
She reached for my left side. “Other arm.”
The washcloth scrubbed me from shoulder to hand. “Now let’s get your ears.”
“And your neck!”
“And your face!”
She was gentle, admittedly. And through the washcloth her fingers danced, making tiny tickling motions. I was in no mood to laugh, though. I even bit my tongue to purposefully suppress anything from getting out. “Next let’s get your arms and chest.”
“And your belly button!”
Even muffled by the apron, the incessant noise coming from Janet’s phone was distracting. “Are you sure you called out successfully?” I said. “You seem to be getting a lot of texts.” Admittedly, I probably sounded a smug; a bit spiteful, too.
A knowing smirk flashed on her lips. “Those are just Facelog notifications. People are responding to the picture I just posted, baby.”
What?! Every ping...every annoying little ding had been people...possibly people I knew responding and replying to that picture. Every little ding and ping was somebody seeing me naked and hairless in a bathtub. My mouth hung open. Janet just giggled some more.
Her hand plunged beneath the water. “Now let’s wash your toes.”
“And your legs.”
“And your penis.”
PING! PING! PING!
I just sat there in shock. Mute and dumb as every last bit of my personal space was violated; most if not for the first time. I was forced to stand up. “Gotta get that hiney too. Wipes won’t do all the work.”
PING! PING! PING! PING!
I stood there as my ass was washed for me. I jumped and all but cannonballed when I heard the tell-tale camera sound effect from behind me. “Aaaaaand post. I knew you’d love playin’ in the bubbles,” Janet cooed. I didn’t reply. I was only starting to digest the fact that now my naked ass was on Facelog.
PING! PING! PING! PING! PING!
And Janet’s tiny corner of the internet was having a field day with it, apparently.
“Such a good baby!”
No. No I wasn’t. I was just being a good doll. But what was I supposed to do? Everyone thinks they’re going to lead the revolution until the monsters are at their door. And even if they do swing; they only get one good punch in before they’re taken away and the neighbors quietly shake their heads.
Trapped inside myself, I didn’t notice when Janet came back with a loaded toothbrush and some kind of creme filled mouthguard; Little sized. “We’re not gonna have bathtime like this every morning, Clark.” she said. “Mommy has to get to work early. But we can have baths at night before bed, okay?”
No. It wasn’t okay. Nothing about this was okay. But that’s not what “okay?” meant in this circumstance. “I understand,” I replied.
“Good,” she said. “Something we will be doing every day is taking care of your teeth!” Instantly, thoughts of gum mouthed and pumpkin grinning Littles flashed across my gray matter. Littles like that one on the bus, eating gum off the floor. I didn’t want my teeth “taken care of”. Not like that!
Stupidly, I was about to object. I opened my mouth to ask a question or to just scream. That was all the opening my captor needed. Janet grabbed my jaw with one hand, and forced a toothbrush past my lips. My mouth foamed up as bristles coated with bubblegum flavored toothpaste scraped across my teeth and gums. I hate bubblegum, too. Absolutely horrid stuff. Littles are supposed to like sweet stuff, but bubblegum is my own personal exception.
I thrashed, I really did. Thrashing only made Janet reflexively grab onto my jaw and brush that much harder. She was positively gentle on my skin but ready to murder my mouth. Thrashing wasn’t working out. “Okay,” she said after far too long. “Spit.”
I did. Right onto the floor. Fuck it. I’d pretend not to know better. It’s not like she gave me a sink or a cup. Janet didn’t even acknowledge it. The mouthguard forced its way inside me and cupped my teeth. “Don’t bite down,” Janet warned. “This will help clean your teeth and make them white and shiny.”
Clean them? Or make them fall out?
I could only grimace as the foam that had been cradled in the mouth guard tingled on my teeth. At least it wasn’t bubble gum flavored. Giant Amazon fingers pried the mouthpiece out. “All done.”
It wasn’t, I told myself. Not by a longshot. It was just the beginning. I was given just enough warning to close my eyes before my hair was rinsed out with a cup of warm water. Amazon cups sometimes seem close to Little sized buckets. Just before Janet pulled the drain plug, I remembered to pee, letting the bubbles and sudz conceal my added stream.
Yeah. Kinda gross, I’ll admit. But better down the drain than in my pants. I was still in a kind of denial; still mourning my lost adulthood. Peeing in the shower was something I did occasionally when I was still in charge of my bladder. Peeing in the tub was close enough.
Wrapping me up in a fluffy bath towel, Janet carried me back into the nursery and finished drying me off. “Gotta get my Little boy dressed,” she said. “Can’t let ‘im go out all nakied!” Ironic considering she had no qualms about posting naked pictures online.
Diving deep into my own survival, I started taking notes of my surroundings. Ignore the pings that were still coming from Janet’s phone, I told myself. I had to focus on how to get out; how to free myself now that no one else was going to.
Again, Janet just pinned me down on the changing table with her free hand. She didn’t like to use the chest strap. Good. I could use that. Don’t squirm, and she might let that hand go lax. Unlike the changing table in Beouf’s classroom, the diapers were directly above me. Janet didn’t have to bend over or take her eyes off of me to reload supplies. Bad.
As Janet unfolded the fresh diaper, I tilted my head to the side and appreciated just how high up I was. The changing table was taller than me. Much taller. I wasn’t roll-off-and-die high up; but any advantage I’d have gained through surprise would be lost in getting my bearings after the fall. Okay. Nix changing table escape plans. I’d probably.
“There,” Janet said, giving my belly a quick tickle. “I bet it feels better to have some clothes back on.” I was so deep in thought that it hadn’t registered that I’d been fully re-diapered until the tapes were already done up. Pulling me up into a sitting position, she planted a kiss on my forehead. “I love you,” she said.
I didn’t know how to react to that just then. So I just avoided eye contact and looked down at my knees. I caught sight of my diaper. Puffy white, with pictures of rainbow colored monkeys dancing along the landing zone.
Why did it look so familiar? I’d seen it before somewhere. It was the same type of diaper that had been planted in my room just before Spring Break. Same brand that Ivy Zoge wore, too, come to think of it. But that’s not what was bugging me.
Monkeez! These were Monkeez! The same diaper brand that I’d shopped for my nephew wore. Sitting up there on the changing table, I looked just like he did!
“Monkeez is the only major diaper company that sizes for all babies,” my sister-in-law had told me. And to Amazon thinking, she was right. These fit me just fine… Not only did I look like a baby, to Amazon sensibilities, but in a weird perverse sort-of-way way to Little ones too. I was in a scaled up version of something that babies...actual babies wore and used; and knowing that made it kind of worse for some reason.
I didn’t have time to ruminate or stare at the diaper decorations any further. A field of white was yanked over my head, my arms disentangling themselves and being guided through armholes. “I was going to use this to complement a dress,” Janet told me, “but I think a plain white onesie will work until we get you some better boy clothes, don’t you?”
She didn’t wait for me to reply before laying me back down and sealing me in at the crotch snaps. That’s the best part for Amazons with Little dolls; no consent required. Some assembly perhaps, but zero consent.
Back on Janet’s hip I went after she’d checked her phone and removed the apron. Back into the kitchen we went. Great. Another highchair feeding, with a pristine white onesie that might very well be ruined by the end. Then time. Such is life in the dollhouse.
“No time for a proper breakfast, hon,” she said, bobbing me to the fridge. She opened the door and dug out one of the last things I’d have expected. Speaking of mundane normal things being scaled up: “Do you want a shake?”
It was a breakfast shake. Just like the ones I chugged everyday before hopping onto my scooter. It was a two-liter’s worth; much bigger than anything my weak morning stomach could assume in one sitting, but it was the exact same packaging and logo. Chocolate too.
“You drink these?” I asked.
Janet took a baby bottle out of the cabinet, cracked the lid of the Amazon sized shake and poured some in. “I mean, it’s not the greatest flavor,” she said. “But it fills me up first thing in the morning and helps keep my weight under control.” She chuckled to herself. “Maybe it’s the flavor that makes it so I don’t eat too much.”
I watched as she screwed the cap on the baby bottle and handed it to me. “Drink up.” I did. Immediately. Even through a rubber nipple, the taste was amazing. That got another giggle from Janet. “Yup,” she said to no one in particular. “I think he likes it.”
My eyes rolled back in my head as I suckled. I closed them to just shut out the world and enjoy the taste. I didn’t even argue or struggle as she cradled me. It wasn’t the chalky taste of protein mixed with chocolate that I exalted in. It was the taste of familiarity, the taste of routine, the taste of something that wasn’t explicitly made for a “baby”. The taste was Heaven.
“My girlfriends were right,” Janet said. “This stuff does make good baby formula in a pinch.” Heaven came crashing back down to purgatory with those words. The taste was good...but not that good. Looking up at her, I watched as she downed the rest of the bottle in just a few gulps, followed by a mighty belch.
“Nice one.” I shut my mouth. Stupid, Clark! Stupid!
In reply, Janet draped me over her shoulder. “Thanks. Your turn.” Heavy hands patted and pounded my back until my own gas bubble rumbled up out of my belly and shot into the air. “Like Mommy, like baby!”
I grimaced as another burp shot out of me. In sharing her food- in talking to me like I was something of an equal- Janet had tricked me into thinking she was decent for just long enough so that I guzzled the stuff down. It had just made burping me all the easier.
“Don’t get used to this,” Janet warned. “As soon as we go back to school, you’ll be eating breakfast and lunch with the rest of the Littles.” Whatever good feelings the breakfast shake had given me that hadn’t been already destroyed evaporated with that declaration of my future.
“I understand,” I sighed. I wanted to growl...but sighing would have to do for now.
She traipsed over to the kitchen table and reached for a certain stuffed animal that had been abandoned. “Don’t forget your lion,” she said, handing it to me. “Wouldn’t want him to get lost.”
I took the lion and held it, if only so that Janet would let the matter be. I didn’t hug it or cuddle it close as much as I pretended I was cutting off its air supply. Crush its ribs. Inflict on it all the pain that I wanted to inflict on other, bigger, more deserving people.
“What’s his name?” Janet asked as we got to the garage door.
I rolled my eyes but hid my face. “It doesn’t have a name. It’s just a dumb stuffed lion.”
“Okay, Clark.” she replied. Even though she wasn’t looking right at me, I could still hear the condescending smile in her tone. “Just let me know what Lion’s name is when you think of it.”