Rattled

Chapter 2
Chapter 2

Chapter Description: Walter is taken to court.

Chapter 2

Walter would be lying if he ever said he’d never fantasized about attractive women seeing him naked. Puberty had been a thing and no one could control the crazy things that hormones whispered to them; only what one did with those whispers. The three hours immediately following his very public accident had destroyed and warped those boyhood fantasies beyond recognition.

Sarah, a neighbor of his, saw to that. She fit the attractive part. Her light brown hair was almost red and tied back tight with a light pink headband. The neon pink sports bra bled through the loose fitting white t-shirt he’d found her in (more like what she’d been wearing when she’d found him), so that he could unconsciously notice and admire certain attributes.  She didn’t have the tummy of his last date; the only date she might have in mind for him and her hips weren’t “child bearing” like his mother had managed to boast, but flat, not quite bony chin and cheeks and how they framed those gorgeous green eyes.  Shrink her down to a size where she couldn’t literally manhandle him with one arm behind her back, and she would have been hot.

 He’d had no idea they’d lived in the same apartment complex.  Stupidly, he thought she’d been taking him back to his place when she scooped him up and carried him across the street and into the parking lot.  She’d only been one building over from him. Her apartment was bigger and much nicer; not just because of the dimensions built to accommodate her.  The paint was fresher, the structure up to code. Two bedrooms, one bath (and a toilet he was positive she wouldn’t let him use).

Walter soon had no hair from the back of his neck down. She’d taken care of that before even getting on her phone. It had taken over an hour of him panting and struggling and squirming while she held him down and removed every last follicle of hair with a gadget in her bathroom.  Amazon beauty products could easily be repurposed for Little babification in a pinch, it turned out.

His begging, pleading, bargaining, and cursing had fallen on deaf ears.  It didn’t help his case that the hair removing wand tickled like nobody’s business. It was objectively better than the sharp burning of older methods, but still horribly unpleasant in the intentions that it signaled.  Walter wasn’t helped in that his bladder hadn’t completely emptied itself in the park, either

“It’s okay, baby,” the woman said. “You can go pee pee in your pants all you need to from now on.”  

“I’m.  Hee-hee! NOT! Ha-haha! A BAAAAABY!”

“Says the boy I found in a puddle. Ooops! More puddle pants!  Someone needs more protection than boring old big boy pants”

She’d chosen that time to take his slacks off of him.  Not how he’d wanted someone to see him in his underwear. “Walter?” the giant had said, squinting at the I.D. in his wallet.  “I like that name.  Wally is such a cute name for a happy baby boy! And we’ll be super happy together, just you wait!”

The only time there hadn’t been a massive hand on his chest pinning him down to the bathroom floor was when she’d taken his soaking underwear off.  He’d been too terrified to move with his manhood clasped between the giant’s thumb and forefinger. 

“Hold. Very. Still.” The tickling sensation down there below the waist and on his balls, between his legs and with his cheeks spread had had...other effects. “Uh oh. Someone liiiiikes it.”

As opposed to the Amazon stereotype of a baby crazy giant who ‘just so happened to carry around a spare diaper just in case’, Walter had not been dragged into a giant nursery that had already been prepped for someone his size to occupy it.  This stranger hadn’t woken up with the intent of snatching someone his size and mutilating their maturity.  She was just a mastodon of a bull; the kind that Amazons bred and modified to sate their hunger; and his peed in pants had been a flapping red cape.

Small comfort.

The horror stories described on MistuhGwiffin.web about being dragged kicking and screaming through the baby aisle of a store in a wet set of adult clothes had blared in Walter’s brain, initially, but not they hadn’t come true. Littles across the world claimed to see it all the time:  One last walk of shame with everyone in the store seeing what a Little had theoretically done to themselves right before being plunged into babyhood; the supplies for their execution being gathered right in front of them. 

Sometimes, rarely, the tale would end with, “I saw her get away just before they got put in the stroller” or even “He forgot to put the strap across my chest and I peed on him before he got the diaper on me. I got away in the confusion.”

Walter was spared that trauma and that false hope in the worst possible way. Apps like “DiaperDash” and “BabHub” were things these days. Amazons were adapting.  Walter never got a chance to slip away.  The diapers and strollers and baby furniture all came to him. Within two hours after his accident, childproof locks had been slipped over every doorknob in the apartment, the first of many diapers had been taped on over his waist and the first of many outfits with buttons on the inseam had been snapped onto him.

Speaking of snaps.

“I know you’re scared because you thought you were a Big Boy,” she cooed at him, “and you think I’m a big scary meanie-Mommy but we’re gonna be just fine together.”  She dangled the wrist rattle over him like it was a cat toy.  “I saved your rattle from the dirt.”

“Miss...that’s not my ra-”

“Mommy,” Sarah Schwartz interrupted.  He only knew her name because a delivery guy had had her confirm it when he was wheeling in and assembling the nursery furniture. “You can call me Mommy.  Or Mama. Or Mum.  Whatever you’re most comfortable with, Wally.”

Walter ignored the infantilization of his name. “Let me go. Please.”

“I can’t do that,” Sarah reached down and stroked his head.  “You had an accident. Somebody’s gotta take care of you, Wally.”

“Walter.  My name is Walter.”

If she heard his correction, Sarah gave no sign.  “Littles love their baby toys, don’t they?”  She grabbed his wrist and started to adjust the sunflower jingle toy.  The slight tingling noise as she jostled it, caused Walter’s eyes to vibrate like after a nip of whiskey or a snort of cocaine.  

Hangovers were still a thing, and Walter used his free arm to smack the damnable toy away and send it tumbling to the floor.

If it bothered the big lady, it didn’t show. “Awww, Wally’s fussy.  It’s okay. Mommy’s not upset. Perfectly normal at your stage.”

“I’m THIRTY you nutter!”

She’d smirked, instead.  “I said ‘stage’, silly.  Not ‘age’.”
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Three days later...

Three days of bottle feedings, forced cuddling, knee bounces, and watching idiotic cartoons teaching colors and shapes while being held in a giant’s lap. Three days of threatening and pleading and screaming and crying. Three days of being pumped so full of food that the resulting burping and nap felt both involuntary and a tad necessary.

Walter had made every escape attempt feasible in that time.  Every entry and exit point had a knob covering that Little hands grasp hard enough to turn.  All the electrical outlets had been plugged with covers that only an Amazon, a Tweener, or a Little rock climbing jazz pianist could pry out.  All the utensils and anything sharp enough to draw blood or small enough to choke on had been moved to boxes or storage containers with similarly difficult catches. Walter was laid down in his crib at night with fresh jammies that warmed him like a blanket, so no sheets were necessary.

 As dark as the thought was, Walter wasn’t prepared to end either his life or anyone else’s, but it would have been nice to know that he might have had that option.

Speaking of options, this was Walter’s one and only at this point and time:  Adoption Court.  It was both where his status as an adult could be officially revoked, but it was his one real chance to prove that he was being set up.  In a way, his captor was suing to have his agency taken away from him, and the burden of proof that he needed a new ‘Mommy’ or ‘Daddy’ was actually on her.

His neatly pressed green romper almost matched the dark forest green blouse she’d dressed herself paired nicely with the black slacks and belt.  Her hair was washed and naturally wavy, but left down so it framed her face and brought out her eyes.  What a pairing they made. ‘Mommy’ and ‘baby’ matched.  Funny at how they were at such cross purposes.

“Please approach with the prospective child and place them in the seat to the left of you.

His neighbor stood up in the courtroom and carried Walter on her hip.  They left over half a dozen other Littles, dressed up in dapper yet babyish outfits, behind them. A few had vacant stares and toothless mouths; already worked over by the monsters before it was legal for them to do so.  Most, like Walter, had the weary expressions of fear, resentment, and anger...mostly fear.  They looked like inmates who were being allowed to dress up for court, even though they’d go back behind bars and into gaudy one-piece jumpsuits within the hour.  A more apt metaphor might be death row prisoners quietly awaiting execution, praying for that phone call from the governor.

  He didn’t stay on his captor’s hip long enough to get settled as he was slipped into a light brown wooden chair with a bucket seat, and his legs threaded in so he couldn’t escape without help or tipping the damn thing till it crashed to the floor. Upon closer inspection,  tipping over wasn’t an option.  It was bolted to the ground like a podium.  To Walter, it looked like a modified version of the trayless highchairs used to seat babies and captive Littles in restaurants, only it was so well kept and matched the decor of the adoption courtroom that it almost looked official.

A Tweener Bailiff stood by the highchair he’d been placed in, but it was nice having that distance between himself and his prospective ‘Mommy’.

Walter’s diaper crinkled loudly beneath him while he shifted and his overly padded ass settled on the hard flat wooden surface. That he’d made it well over twelve hours without needing a change gave him a kind of comfort.  He could use it as proof in his case.

The Amazon lady’s apartment was bigger than his, but the walls were still suitably thin.  He’d heard his would-be ‘Mommy’ calling for adoption information and scheduling appointments.  After being held prisoner for three days, he was officially being taken to Adoption Court.  There, his last hopes would rise and fall on being able to ‘prove’ that he was a ‘Big Boy’.  

The comfort of that far away hope was the only comfort he was feeling just then.  His bladder ached and burned.  When he heard that Sarah was going to be taking him to court today to officialize his kidnapping, he chose to hold his bladder as much as he could, and went so far as to sloppily drink and dribble from the bottle he’d been force fed so he wouldn’t have to swallow as much.

Walter hadn’t released his bladder since just before his final diaper change the night before.  His paranoia had been justified, too.  His captor had made no effort to check or change him this morning.  She’d dressed him up in a green pin-stripe romper made out of the same kind of material as a good dress shirt, but made no move to check or change the Koddles he’d been taped into the night before . She’d been banking on him being wet that morning.  Confirmation that Amazons were crazy, but crazy wasn’t the same thing as delusional.

While the judge shuffled papers around, Walter inhaled sharply through his nostrils.  He hadn’t released his bladder in over twelve hours.  He hadn’t had a bowel movement since before his capture. Walter wasn’t going to make it another day without clearing something out of his system.

“What is the child’s name?”  the Judge, a bald Amazon man with a caterpillar mustache, asked.  He did not seem to look at either Sarah, or Walter.

The Bailiff tapped Walter on the shoulder.  “Go on, buddy.  Tell the nice judge what your name is.”

Oh.

“Walter Klammer, Your Honor.”  Walter said, trying to sound calmer than he felt.

The  judge seemed pleased. “Your Honor?” His gaze looked at Sarah.  “Good job, teaching him the proper etiquette. You’d be surprised how many Littles are fussy when they come here and don’t mind your manners.”

The woman who’d been getting her jollies by burping Walter beamed. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Walter shot his hand up.  “Your Honor, may I please be excused to use the restroom?”

“Mommy will change you after we’re done here, Wally.” She patted, the mint green diaper bag hanging from her opposite shoulder like a cowboy patted their trusty six shooter.

The judge leaned forward. “I see you’re already well prepared for the care of this child.”
“Yes, Your Honor.  My house is completely baby proofed.”

Instead of shouting, Walter raised his hand quickly and waited to be called on.  “Yes?” the judge asked.  

“Your Honor, if it pleases the court, I need to go to the restroom.  May the Bailiff please accompany me?”

“If you can hold it till the end of this hearing,” the judge said dismissively, as if placating a child.  “Now what proof do you have that your child has been afflicted with Maturosis?”

Sarah seemed confused.”Maturosis?”

The judge chuckled. “What makes you think he’s a baby?”

“He’s unemployed, Your Honor. I haven’t heard a peep out of him about his job and according to neighbors he almost never leaves his apartment.”

The judge seemed to consider that.  No further need for proof.   

“I work out of my home, Your Honor.”  Walter called out.  “If my employment is in jeopardy it’s because I’ve been physically prevented from finishing my work.”

“Doing what?  Accounting?  Programming and Coding? Investment? Online customer service?”  

Walter slunk down.  “I’m...a writer…?”  The muffled laughs of several giant women behind him made him feel smaller.  

“Oh really?” The judge said. “So am I.  But I have to pay the bills somehow.”

“If I can just show you my e-mai-”

“Bailiff,” the judge interrupted Walter. “If the child gets too fussy, please give him a pacifier.”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

Walter shut his mouth.  The only thing that was going to convince them was the state of his pants.
“I apologize, Your Honor,” Walter’s captor said.  “You know how Littles can get sometimes.”

“All too well, all too well.”  He waved off the apology like it was hers to give.  “Though due process must be followed and rights respected.” Walter would have laughed had he had it in him.  Unfortunately, the state of his bladder made laughter the worst possible medicine he might ask for.    “Do you happen to have any additional proof that the child suffers from Maturosis and needs adult care?  Wet pants saved in a baggie perhaps?”

The woman frowned.  “No you’re honor.  I didn’t think to save them.  I threw them out as soon as I brought him home.”

Aha! Walter’s hand rocketed upward again.  As soon as he was called on he would insist that his diaper be checked, and offer up the information that the last time he was changed was last.  Not even an Amazon could deny the proof!  If he could just get called on!

“I see,” said the judge to Sarah. He sounded disappointed.

“I do have a video,” Sarah said.  She dug into the diaper bag and took out her phone. “I made sure to film it when I found him regressing. He was so cute.”

“Video?!” Walter squeaked. 

The bailiff leaned over and quietly hissed, “Put your thumb in your mouth or I’m going to put a pacifier in it.”

Walter obeyed.

Another bail came and took Janet’s phone.  “Upload it into the monitor over there,” the old bald headed Amazon instructed.  

On a screen big enough to see from even where he was sitting, Walter watched his greatest nightmare replay itself.  It was at a higher angle than he remembered it, and looked worse from the outside than it felt from the inside, but it was definitely him.

He watched himself, slapping the sunflower wrist rattle, oblivious to the giant behind him filming.

The speakers sent that ringing jingling noise out into the courtroom and Walter involuntarily shuddered with dread and delight.  Surprised giggles bubbled up behind him from the Littles waiting their turn at execution.

“HAAAAAAA!” the recording of himself wobbled around like he’d taken too many shots.

Walter watched the recording in horror as he watched his past self, elbows locked and arms flapping jingled the toy like a toddler who hadn’t figured out all of his fine motor skills.  He didn’t remember that part.  

In the present, electric shocks of secondhand pleasure jolted into Walter’s brainstem and it felt like tiny hooks were digging into his lips and pulling the corners of his mouth into a rictus grin.  The smiling and laughter didn’t stop even as his bladder felt the wetness start to spread across his crotch. Like him his bladder had fought the good fight...and lost.

“I gotta get me one of these...” the video-Walter said, looking at the baby toy the way some people looked at fancy cars. The pee kept coming, splashing up against him and rushing to the center core of the Koddles.  

“Hello,” the scene played out again in front of everyone. “Are you okay Little boy?  Do you need help?  Did you have an accident? Where’s your Mommy or Daddy, baby?”

“Oh...no…”

Caught in a time loop, the formerly adult Walter looked down at the spreading dark patch on his pants as he peed himself on camera.  At the same time, the real flesh and blood walter felt the leak guards give out and the insides of his romper pathetically try and fail to wick away the forming stream of piss streaming down his legs.  Over twelve hours of pee all at once was too much for a single diaper.

“That seems like evidence enough to me,” the Judge leaned back in his big fancy chair at the bench, while a chorus of Amazons ‘awwed’ at the final image of Walter pissing himself.  A bailiff handed Sarah her phone back.

“Your Honor,” the bailiff spoke up.  “The um...child has leaked through his diaper.”

“And there’s more proof.  Adoption granted!”  The judge banged the gavel.

Walter’s new Mommy rushed over and tickled his ribs.  “Oh baby Wally! You did such a good job! ”  

“No….!”

She scooped her hands under his armpits and lifted him out of the chair. The hard wooden seat was the only thing keeping his stool on the inside of him.

“No-no-no-no-no-no-no!”  His legs weren’t even all the way out when his cheeks spread and his own feces started shooting out the back of him, forming a solid mess in his already ruined diaper ballooning out in an attempt to contain it. “Nooooooooooo…..”

It was the only word he had for his situation just then.

“It’s okay, Wally.  You don’t need to be a sad lad.”  

Walter felt her hand underneath his bottom, pressing the mess up even more.  “Oh! More than just wet!  At least you’re not constipated! Mommy was getting worried.”

“No.”  He cried quietly.

“I know, I know. It’s no fun being in a poopy, leaky diaper.” She jostled him.  “Might have had a blowout too.”  She gave him a kiss on the forehead..  “Don’t you worry, Wally. Mommy will take care of it.”

She already had, but not in a way that was going to be satisfactory to anyone but her.

“No, no, no, no!”  He squirmed, but not nearly enough to get away while she carried him into the ladies’ restroom.  

She unbuttoned the snaps. Blurry, tear eyed tile was blocked out by a leaked-in romper being pulled over his head.  “Oh, wow, Wally.  You really did a number on this one!”  Pushed down to the changing tray, Walter craned his neck and saw the swollen discolored mess between his thighs.

His new, now official Mommy, dug into a side pocket.  “Don’t be sad, though.  Look at what I’ve got!”  

He’d thought she’d tossed the wrist rattle away.  Instead she’d just waited for this moment to try and pin on the accursed sunflower again.  The buttons snapped snug around his wrist.  She maneuvered her massive elbow so as to  prevent his free hand from striking out until it was properly fastened.

HIs brain danced and chemicals were released with each slight jingling of the rattle, let loose frequencies that only Little ears and Little brains could appreciate.

“There we go,” she cooed down at him, now naked save for the tinkling faux flower and an absolutely disgusting undergarment.  “You’ve finally got one of these and you can play with it without having to worry about dropping it while Mommy cleans you up.”

Walter looked at the rattle newly pinned to his wrist.  He looked down past his hairless chest and saw the swollen padding, felt it squishing beneath him.

Caught between screaming bloody murder and giggling like an idiot for a few minutes, Walter made the only choice that made sense in the heat of the moment.  

He laid back.  

He closed his eyes.  

And as he heard the sounds of plastic tapes being ripped off the diaper’s landing zone and felt the front of the padding slacken and sag on top of him, Walter shook the rattle for all it was worth.