The New Narnia- Chapter 57: Unintended Consequences

Chapter 57: Unintended Consequences

The door to Katy’s bedroom swung open, the doorknob clanging on the nearest wall.  It hit with such force that it rebounded back and she had to shove it out of her way a second time. “Stay! Outta! My! Room!”  she screamed.

Beneath her bed, Tommy lied motionless, holding his breath.  Not only was he wary that his heavy breathing would give his location away, but the smell of used diapers right next to him was starting to bother him.  How long had these been there?

He allowed himself an exhale when he saw her feet tromp past the bed and toss open her closet door.  “Aha!  Hm?”  

Tommy breathed in short gasps through his mouth while she riffled through dresses and shirts that Mommy had undoubtedly hung up.  He allowed himself a mischievous smile seeing pink and purple fabrics flutter and land in a puddle at his eye level. Katy was going so far as to tear out her close as though it were an excavation of sorts.

The shrunken boy tried not to laugh. The stench underneath her mattress was so strong that he still practically tasted the balled up piss rags.  If he thought about it too much he might just throw up.

From his vantage point, Tommy saw her stuffed animals leave the floor and then tumble down several feet across the room thanks to Katy recklessly hurling them over her head.  “Gotcha!”  She did not, in fact, get him.  “Awwwww!”

“Tommy?!” Katy called out.  “Tommy?”  Her voice lowered to a stage whisper like in the cartoons.  “Toooooooommy!”  Her regressed mind was shifting gears, making it a game of hide and seek.  “Come out, come out wherever you arrrrre!”

This was too easy to the point of it hurting.  If Tommy had wanted to use less effort, he could have just said he was hiding in his sister’s room, slammed the door shut and then waddled across the hall to hide in the bathtub. It would have been less cramped and smelled better, besides.  He wouldn’t be burdened with the knowledge that his ‘bigger’ twin was hiding and hoarding diapers.  Hopefully just wet ones…

Stupidly, he sniffed the air again and felt his throat threaten to close up  Stale ammonia wasn’t much better than rancid shit.

“Katy?” Mommy called ahead of her footsteps, “Tommy? Are you two playing nice?”

Blazing red alarms rang out between Tommy’s ears. Mommy was coming! Nothing had messed with her cognitive functioning! The bed was the first place she’d look for him! Even if she didn’t, Mommy wouldn’t treat it like a game.  An adult looking for a child was a monster on the warpath.

Sooner or later, probably sooner, he’d get found and dragged out.  

Then the old balled up diapers would be discovered.  

Then one of the twins would be in trouble, probably Katy, possibly Tommy.  For different reasons, neither outcome was acceptable.

Sucking in his breath one last time to thin himself out even further Tommy belly crawled out from underneath his sister’s bed.  “Yes, Mommy!”

Katy twirled around like a hurricane, her eyes alight with righteous anger.  “You-!”

Tommy quickly put his finger to his lips and pointed with his other hand to just beneath the bed. Something resembling adult comprehension flashed across Katy’s face.  Either that, or lying and hiding dirty shameful secrets was something that came naturally to girls her mental age.  

Katy yanked her comforter off the bed and wedged it between the gap that Tommy had crawled out of.  Mommy was crossing the threshold a second later.

“Tommy!” she gasped. “Katy! Kids!  What did you two do?”

The more physically babified of the two stepped in front and.  “Sorry, Mommy,” Tommy said. “I was looking for a place to hide and couldn’t find any with all the stuff in the way.”

Katy had enough of her wits still about her to agree.  “Yeah, Mommy” she lied. “That’s exactly what happened!  Tommy was a bad, bad, naughty little baby.” That was laying it on thick. A small part of him delighted at being referred to as ‘baby’, however. A neuron fired up instantly and made him wonder if she enjoyed hearing the words.  

“You should spank him!” she piled on. Tommy about face and glared at her. She’d already forgotten that he was doing her a kindness and he did, in fact, have leverage. His twin sucked in her reath and course corrected. “You should, except that he’s just a baby and so doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

For a moment, Mommy looked like she might lose her temper and shout.  Then she closed her eyes and exhaled.  “I’m not happy with this,” she said.  “And I don’t believe Tommy did all this by himself.”

“I threw my dresses on the floor,” Katy confessed. “But that’s just cuz…cuz…I dunno.” The most convincing and truthful part of the performance thus far.

“That’s very good that you told the truth, Katy,” Mommy said. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Katy’s answer was immediate and technically truthful.  “No.”

“Not even that you’re going to pick up your clothes?”

“Oh,” Katy said, her cheeks flushing. “That. Yeah. Sorry, Mommy.”  She wasted no time in picking up the discarded garments off the floor and hanging them back up.  As long as it wasn’t her Sunday best, they wouldn’t be too wrinkled to wear.

“And you, young man,” Mommy turned her gaze over to Tommy. “Should you be playing in your sister’s room without her permission?”

Tommy’s mouth became sandpaper. “No, Mommy.”

“Would you like her to play in your room without you?”

“No, Mommy.”

“So what should you say to your sister?”

Tommy wrinkled his nose and swallowed his pride. “Sorry, Katy.”

Katy finished putting her clothes back..  “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“Maybe,” Mommy suggested, “You should help her by cleaning up her stuffed animals.”

“Yes, Mommy.” The shrunken bent over and picked up a teddy bear, then another, and started reassembling the pile.  Like a good ‘big sister’ Katy joined him and started cleaning up the mess he’d provoked her into making.  It didn’t occur to either one- she in her trainers and he in his fresh diaper- that they were both doing chores in their underwear under the watchful eye of their mother.

Truthfully, there had been a period of time when this lack of modesty was commonplace for both of them, but Mary Dean’s lack of means and impulsive buys and near legendary cheapness with her children more than likely mandated that they were both would have been out of diapers around the same time, even if one or the other had been slow on the uptake regarding toileting.   Tommy couldn’t imagine a timeline where his mother, unaltered by the clock’s magic, would buy two sets of disposable Pull-Ups differentiated by gender.

Cutting to the quick, Tommy couldn’t remember a timeline when Mary had oversaw them perform chores. His mother had been more of a “this better be done when I get back” type.

In the here and now, she started moving dangerously close to Katy’s bed. “Here, honey, let Mommy make the bed for you.”  She started bending over to remove the comforter they had wedged in.

“NO!” the twins practically screeched in unison.  Mommy froze and gave them both a questioning look.  They were up to something and she officially knew it.

As might be expected, Tommy’s mouth was quicker on the draw. “There’s a monster under there, Mommy!” His arm shot out and he almost tripped over his heels backing into Katy. “I stuffed the blankie there so it couldn’t get out!”  

His sister wrapped her arms around him. “Yeah!” Katy said. “That’s how I knew he wasn’t hiding in there.”  Quietly, Tommy thanked his lucky stars that his sister was still smart enough to join in on the lie.  “It’s a monster that eats little boys.”

Gosh darn it, Katy…

“A monster?” Mommy asked, taking to her knees. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” Katy nodded her head.  “It’s definitely in there.  It’d gobble him up!”

“Oh this I’ve got to see,” Mommy remarked..

Tommy felt his heart nearly explode. If she checked under the bed, Mommy would see disgusting stash for certain!  Tommy threw himself at his mother. “No!” he yelled. “Please, don’t! Please please please please!”  He buried his head in her breasts and shook his head, hopefully so that she’d be too distracted to realize he wasn’t even close to crying.

His plan felt like it was working when he felt himself being lifted off the ground, Mommy bouncing him slightly and patting his back.  “Shhhhhh…shhhhhh…”  Tommy did his best not to smile.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  No monster is gonna get you, baby.”

“As long as he’s good and stays outta my room, right Mommy?”

There was a pause that grew and grew.  Mommy stopped swaying.  No one spoke, and Tommy dared not lift his head to look around. Finally, Mommy broke the stillness by saying,  “Sometimes a girl needs her space, huh Katy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay. Let’s get your brother away from the monster bed and maybe all three of us can play some Candyland.”

Dual shocks of raw lightning hit the twins in the brainstems. Tommy craned his neck up to see Mommy’s knowing smile. He returned hers with a bright eyed and toothy grin.  Katy was so excited that she was screaming again, only the wordless noises were clearly happy one.  
“Go on downstairs,” Mommy instructed. “You know where the box is.”

Katy needed no further convincing.  In a blur she was out of her room and her feet were pounding back down the stairs.  “Kids,” Mommy said to herself.  She sniffed and looked at Tommy quizzically. “Did you…?”

The shrunken boy shrugged. He legitimately didn’t know.  Mommy sniffed again and checked both sides of his diaper. “Still dry and clean…”  The edge of suspicion hadn’t left her voice.  She’d caught a literal whiff of Katy’s indiscretions, too, and was narrowing down an already short list.

“Mommy!” Tommy whined like the toddler he seemed. “Candyland!  You promised!”

“You’re right, baby boy,” Mommy said. “I did say.”  For different reasons, mother and son breathed a little easier when she stepped back out into the upstairs hallway and closed Katy’s door.  

Katy had the board set up on the living room floor and the pieces set up by the time.  “I get to be yellow! No red! No wait, I can play both!”

Tommy fought the urge to get into another pointless sibling fight. There were more important ramifications to consider than whether or not Katy got two turns.

“Katy,” Mommy asked. “Did you remember to wipe when you went pee-pee?”

His sister didn’t look up from the gameboard “Uh-huh.”

“Are you sure?”  

“Yeah,” Katy replied. “You wiped me extra good after I went poopy, too.”

Idiot.  

“Hmm..you’re right.”   Her brow furrowed deeper and deeper.  Leave it to a mother to smell something out of place and quietly obsess over it.  

“Mommy!” Tommy tugged on her collar. “Down!”  He could easily speak in much more complex sentences, but Mommy tended to respond better when he deliberately played up the pre-programmed attitudes in her head.  It was like talking to a computer in binary; removing extra steps for ease of processing.

“I’ll guess I’ll be blue,” Mommy said, taking the plastic gingerbread man and putting it in the starting area.

That left green for Tommy.  He crawled around the perimeter and placed his piece.

“Blue!” Katy took off the top card.  She moved her first piece a few spaces forward. “Aaaaaand red!  Yay! I got the shortcut”  The yellow ginger bread man landed on the first red space and skipped up the rainbow road. “I’m winning!”

Something in Tommy’s blood heated up and bubbled over and he wasn’t positive that was something that was there beforehand or something placed inside of him by Nanny.

“We just started,” Mommy reminded her. “The person who goes first is always winning before everyone else goes.”

“Oh…yeah,” Katy realized. “Still winning.”

Mommy drew a card off the top of the stack.  “Double green!” she cooed.  She made a big show of hopping her piece  and Tommy felt oddly entertained.  After green, the pattern of colored Candyland tiles repeated themselves.  Statistically speaking she’d gotten the second best possible draw, with Katy getting the first best in finding the shortcut.

That left a sour taste in his mouth. If Katy wasn’t allowed to take two turns with two different pieces, Tommy knew, that double green would have been his.

“Your turn Tommy,” Mommy said.

Luck was on his side, however.  It had been so long since Tommy had played Candyland he’d forgotten that there were more movement cards than just colors.  “Ice cream!” Tommy cheered and held up the picture of a swirly cone above his head as though it were a relic of great power.  Tommy moved his game token all the way to the upper right hand corner of the game board, a mere thirty or so paces to the finish line!  And in a game where one could move anywhere between one and twelve spaces depending on the card you drew, he was already tantalizingly close to victory.

Tommy corrected himself: This was statistically the best card he could have drawn.

“That’s not fair!” Katy protested. “He cheated.”

“Technically, Katy,” Mommy corrected her, “if you’d decided to play using only one gingerbread man instead of two, that would have your card.

Poor Katy just couldn’t comprehend anymore. “Huh?”  

“It’s true,” Mommy said.  Tommy nodded sagely and Katy stuck her tongue out for his trouble.

“He’s gonna win,” she complained.

“Maybe,” Mommy said. “But he might get stuck on a piece of licorice. Or he might draw another picture card and have to go there instead.” She waited a beat for the possibilities to sink in.  “Or he might win and then we just play again.”

“Okay.”  Katy didn’t seem too happy about that last prospect, even if she accepted it.

The game continued on without incident.  Sadly, Mommy’s prediction was true.  Within three turns, Tommy had been busted back to the peanut brittle space and both of Katy’s pieces and Mommy’s had caught up. Life was so unfair sometimes.

The leisure activity was taking longer than a normal game. Katy had a comment for every move that Mommy had to explain or diffuse while Tommy patiently waited his turn.  This was not good for young master Dean’s state of mind.

Between turns of moving rainbow colored cookie people around a meandering rainbow patterned map, Tommy kept staring at the bare patch of wall where the grandfather clock used to be.  Deep down he felt a little sad every time he looked up and saw that.  The thing was awful, a portal into a soft and cuddlier version of Hell some might say.  But its absence loaned an air of finality to his situation.

There was no going back to Malacus proper, anymore. Only the trans-dimensional daycare was available to him.  That meant that Katy wouldn’t be getting any worse. Likewise, it meant that she’d be well and stuck like this for the rest of her life.

Stuck. Mentally regressed and wanting to go further down the rabbit hole to join her brother.  Tommy’s own fascination, no, his attraction to diapers and babyhood had started the moment that he’d come back from the other side of the grandfather clock.  

First it was on things like Paw-Patrol Pull-Ups; then later wanting to desperately fill and hump in full on baby diapers.  He flashed back to his fantasies on the pre-school changing table and felt a wave of unexpected shame wash over him. What had he been thinking?

The warning signs had been there all along, and like every other schmuck in that impossibly extra-planar play place, he’d ignored them.  Katy had too, obviously. Why wouldn’t she? This simply wasn’t the kind of thing that public school prepared one for.

Diapers weren’t just a medical necessity to Tommy, but an addictive (and arousing) drug.  And all the evidence was mounting that Katy had been bitten by the bug, too. She was stealing, using, and hiding his diapers under her bed.  And if she was anything like Tommy, was probably masturbating in them too.

Tommy shuddered at that thought.  Nobody wanted to picture their sibling doing that.

Honestly? Tommy would have likely done the same and steal more diapers if he’d had greater nerve and been given greater access.

Katy had more than enough nerve, and all the diapers she could steal right of Tommy’s personal stash.  She’d never go cold turkey, just constantly use them on the side.  Mommy might catch her eventually-she needed to ditch those used diapers- but would never be able to permanently stop her.  When one child was basically a one-year old and the other was basically three, neither was moving out.

Speaking of permanency, Tommy had a bad feeling that the urges and fixations that came with Malacus exposure would never leave Katy.  How horrible it would be, Tommy realized to want something so badly and never be able to fully get it. An itch that she could never fully scratch; a shameful secret only whispered and never spoken.

He suddenly didn’t begrudge Katy her extra Candyland token.  It was the least he could do.  Maybe, Tommy thought to himself, he’d sealed the deal too early.  Maybe he should have done one final “mercy killing”.

“Uh oh” Mommy cooed to both them, making her token dap dance around a pointlessly winding path.  “Mommy’s catching up, too-oo!”

What about Mommy?  Mary Dean had never been like this prior to the clock entering their lives.  She’d been worse than an absentee parent. Absentee still implied she was on the roster. Emotionally speaking, Tommy and Katy’s mother had been closer to an abusive landlord; exploiting them and expecting thanks for the opportunity.

This Mary? The one playing games and cooking dinner and Going shopping? Someone who was acting like a legitimate parent by both spending legitimate quality time with her children as well as trying to set healthy expectations and boundaries? This wasn’t the woman either of them had grown up with, just someone with her face.

For the life of him, Tommy couldn’t understand it and was afraid to make a guess.  Was this how she would have been if Charlie hadn’t gotten sucked into the clock and Mary had had someone to support her and share the load?

That didn’t make as much sense; it’s not like Tommy now had a step-dad or anything. Was this incarnation of his mother a result of wealth?  Money was certainly no longer a problem; from what he’d pieced together Mommy owned a business and was just short of ‘upper class’.  People could have money and be scumbags too.

Thinking back to his actual childhood, Mary Dean winning the lottery probably wouldn’t have resulted in a more attentive or emotionally sensitive parent.

Was this just…not his Mom?  Was this woman effectively a fantasy construct like Nox or the Elf Queen had been: A role and a set of vaguely entertaining personality traits that had the face of a real person stapled on?  Was anything of his mother still in there?  Would his sister ever find something resembling peace?  Or had Tommy ruined the only family he’d ever known and replaced them with an addict and a servant?

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

Someone at the door broke him out of his own melancholy musings.

“Coming!” Mommy called.

************************************************************************************

Clad in a pure white toga with a golden wreath upon his brow, Marco kneeled before the Goddess and bowed his head.  “Oh great Goddess of Malacus,” Marco said, “I have traveled many leagues and overcome many dangers to have an audience with you.”

The Goddess gave a thin yet knowing smile, hinting at knowledge yet revealing nothing.  Her mismatched eyes, one green and one blue, shimmered and sparkled down over the hero. Out of some sense of propriety or wonder, the tan, well muscled man-child tried to.  But like a naughty little thing couldn’t resist, he kept peeking up at her, afraid that she’d flutter away like a butterfly.

Soon enough he’d be crying whenever an adult left his line of sight, his emotional attachment and fear of loss dialed to the maximum. The fear that Mommy or Daddy or Nanny would never come back would be enough to make him wet his pants.  Soon enough after that, his object permanence wouldn’t be strong enough to remember someone existed if he wasn’t looking directly at them; he’d just be happy that a big smiling person or maybe another drooly tot that crinkled and crawled like him was around to entertain him.

As for his pants, save for the first fifteen to twenty minutes after a diaper change they’d likely always be at least a little wet.  That would be soon enough, though. Now was now. Don’t worry about the late game when there was still the early game to play.

“Goddess?” Marco repeated himself.  “Can you hear me?”  He turned his head to the side and addressed the Centaur.  “Does she speak English or…?”

“The Goddess understands you perfectly well, brave hero.” Equestrinox said. “Her voice is simply so divine that she dare not use it in thy presence.” Before the beautiful oaf could ask, the Centaur helpfully added, “the Goddess’s voice has been known to ensnare a mortal soul with but a single syllable. A note from her lips would risk you taking leave of your senses.”

Almost imperceptibly, Nanny’s smile spread in approval.  She wouldn’t have to talk for the rest of this performance and could keep her mind focused on controlling the environment. Better still, when Marco’s connection to Malacus had strengthened enough and the mist had layered itself enough over his life, she would meet him back in the real world and speak to him in wonderfully bubbling baby talk.

Consciously or not, he would draw the connection to this meeting and feel so much more special and loved, becoming more vulnerable to her tender ministrations.

Well played, Equestrinox. Well played.

“Goddess!” Marco began. “I-”

“She also knows full well the trials and tribulations you have endured, brave hero,” Equistrinox interrupted.  “She knows how you slayed the hydragon, and freed the Man-o-taur from its maze.  She watched over you when the Sedusa tried to tempt you with its visage that could melt any other mortal’s heart and gave you the strength you needed to hold the weight of the Sky upon your shoulders while Glorious Gazette fetched the Silver Strawberry for you.

Objectively, none of that was true. Annie put little effort or thought into the daily adventures and intricacies of the dream world that was Malacus.  That was what her constructs were for. The ones that ran her daycare were limited in what they could do, but the cast of characters she assembled here were as good as any improvisational acting troupe.  Better in fact, since they had much more practice at their craft.

There had been a time, early on, when she had curated each visitor’s experience to their exacting fantasies and needs, giving them the exact storybook fantasies and fairytales their unfulfilled selves could latch onto like a teat before easing them back into the cradle and then the creche.

It had taken less than a century for that to get tiresome, and thus she relegated the duties to the denizens she had given shape and form to.  There were only so many tropes and stories and archetypes needed to draw from. In general, boys liked to feel strong and adventurous and play hero and girls liked to feel pretty and be sophisticated yet desirable.  So it was nothing to have her living illusions prime and primp them with fantasy stories of war, intrigue, romance, and discovery.  Then she would insert herself and whittle away the tiny falsehoods that being an ‘adult’ had weighed upon them.

The ratio of Tomboys and sensitive little lads to their more ‘traditional’ peers gradually shifted throughout the ages to the point where the population would likely reach a kind of equilibrium no matter what was between their legs. But at their core all of the Nanny’s precious babes wanted the same thing:  Love and security without any actual risk. To be the center of the universe and star of their own personal fable.

It was something no one ever truly got enough of, and Nanny was happy to give it to them in exchange for the things that made people wicked.  For some the transformation would happen fast, others slow, but they’d almost all end up the same pure and innocent. None of them would ever become the kind of person who would toss a tiny ‘changeling’ girl down a well; nor would their family members.  Thus thousands upon thousands of tiny atrocities were secretly prevented.

The only things that really changed over the years were the styles of baby clothes and the materials wrapped around a baby’s bottom.

Presently, Marco’s mind began to clear away the illusion Malacus had weaved. “Wait. She saw and heard and knew all this? Then why did she not…?”  Marco did not have the words for what he was formulating, and it had nothing to do with anything Nanny had done.  Poor boy already wasn’t that bright.  Captain of the football team with a full scholarship and still somehow empty enough inside for Malacus to call to him.

“Do you not understand, brave hero?” The Centaur improvised. “The Goddess sees and knows all, but cannot directly act.  To do so would rob the people of Malacus of their free will, the most precious thing of all!”  The Goddess bit her tongue, lest she laugh at the absurdity.  “That’s why the call went out.”

“The call?” Marco stumbled.

“The call to action! And you answered it, brave hero.” Equestrinox laid it on extra thick, thicker than the diapers the boy would be wearing one day.  “She empowered your actions, but if you had not the will to act it would have been for naught!”

“She helps those who are willing to help themselves,” Marco said cryptically; probably something he got from a fortune cookie.

“Exactly!”

Her puppet was doing exceptionally well in guiding her latest charge.  She shouldn’t be surprised, of course. The Centaur had been playing this role since back in the Renaissance when Heracles came back into vogue.  Something about little boys and horse men as teachers; though for a brief time he was outshined by a Satyr.

She wondered who Equistrinox looked like to the boy.  She could never tell unless they said it outloud.  Malacus and its mummers were affected- though not equally affected- by the mindsets of current visitors alongside the will of its Monarch.

Waiting in the wings, all manners of elves and pixies and fairies primped and preened, waiting for their turn to play with the boy, but he wasn’t ready yet. They’d have to content themselves with being damsels in distress or sultry seductresses a while longer.  They’d gotten something of a glut of prissy little girls to play tea party with thanks to extenuating circumstances and were having to relearn patience; especially the elves.

“So..uh…what now?” Marco asked.

“Why,” the Centaur said, “you commune of course.”

“How do I-?”

Right on cue a terrible gust of wind blue across the mountain top, sending the man-child’s toga cascading up over his head.

Someone wasn’t wearing underwear. Naughty, naughty, and right on schedule for this part of the game.

Nanny stood up, towering over the boy. She’d decided to take this form so that it’d be easier to accept when he shrunk down.  He’d get used to being changed and doted on by people much bigger than him to the point that he’d stop consciously questioning it when it happened outside of Malacus.

She guided him down to the soft marble-like floor and took his toga off. Like they always did, blood rushed into his face and into his penis in near equal measure. With practiced poise, she held him still, pinning him down with a simple massive hand on his chest.

Impotently, he tried to cover his genitals with his hands, both wanting to and dreading being seen in such a vulnerable state  “Wha-?”

“To commune, you must be consecrated with the sacred oils,” Nox said.  Other than that slip up with Tommy and his bratty sister, he really was a fine servant. Annie had been wise to make his unmaking temporary.

From the air she plucked a vile of sweet smelling oil.  She wasted no time in pouring and rubbing all over his body. The scent was hardly foreign, everyone knew what baby oil smelled like, but that familiarity relaxed Marco.  The Goddess paid special attention to his now hairless groin and buttocks and he closed his eyes and moaned in response. That area is where these lotions and powders and creams would be concentrated for the rest of his life, but for the moment it was enough to getting him used to smelling like a baby.

She was tempted to grab at his pulsing member, but a kind of sixth sense knew she didn’t need to get what she really wanted out of this one.  More to the point, she hadn’t even diapered him yet. Wouldn’t want the poor thing to make the wrong connections.

He stopped moaning and opened his eyes when she crossed his ankles for him and lifted the mup.

“Huh?”

The mismatched Goddess took his toga and reconstituted it into a thick cloth nappy.  His legs were made to spread bow out so she could tug the front up over his penis.

“A loincloth for the brave hero, so that all may look upon and envy at his marvelous physique.” Nox lied.

Marco laid there, stunned, so that Nanny had the time to break his golden wreath in two and turn it into two unbreakable clasps that pierced the fabric and held everything together.  Marco would be unable to take it off by himself, and as time went on he’d crave that help from those around him.  Dressing would become an almost unbearable chore.

“It looks like a diaper!” he said, almost in a trance. “Like in the cartoons.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” her puppet lightly scolded. “Why would the slayer of the Hydragon be wearing a diaper?  You’re not a baby.”

He poked and pawed at the padding, doing his best not to groan in lust, but was buying into the lie.  “Yeah,” Marco said. “You’re right.” He might have panicked if she had produced something more modern, like a Huggies or a Luv.  

Not yet.  Not yet. No need to rush, either.

She picked up the moaning boy and returned to her throne.  A flick of her wrist saw a bronze cup manifest in her hand as she cradled him in her lap.  Unlike most grails, this one had a spout jutting out from the side. Most people didn’t know what ancient baby bottles and sippy cups looked like before the invention of the rubber nipple.

Annie had plucked just enough anthropology students to know herself, and was grateful for the information she’d been able to weedle out of them prior to padding them up. It made this next part easier.

“What are you-?”

“Shhhhh…” the Goddess hushed.. It wasn’t technically speaking, so she hadn’t broken any of the established lies yet.  It was just so much better when they didn’t talk and enjoyed themselves.  She gently pressed the spout to his lips.

“Drink hero. Drink the ambrosia!”

Like a good boy, Marco sucked on the spout and licked his lips. “Apple juice?”

Annie gave him a practiced motherly smile.  It was much more than apple juice, and he was about to find out.  It was, however, also apple juice.  She nodded, giving him permission, and his continued to suckle.

Bits of amber liquid started to dribble out of the corners his lips and he made cute little mewling sounds as his truer, baser instincts took over.  A hearty belch preceded a shocked gasp as his bladder let loose into what used to be his toga.

“I’m peeing!” he shrieked.

“Shhhhh”

The Centaur trotted up.  “It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s just storge.”

“Stor-wha?”

“It is the feeling of adoration that a mortal feels for a god. Also the feeling that a child feels for their mother.  What you’re experiencing is perfectly normal and natural.”

“B-b-b-ut I’m pee-”

“Just let it happen, son.”

A quiver went through Marco’s body and his mouth re-latched onto the spout, draining apple juice.  His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he started masturbating, kneading the front of his diaper with both hands then and there on her lap.  The juice was kicking in and he was letting loose.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word,”  Nanny sang just above a whisper. “Nanny’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…” His conscious mind was too preoccupied with the wild sensations and conflicting emotions raging inside and out him.

His hips were thrusting into the palms of his hands, pressing the wet diaper up against himself again and again and again.  It was much harder with cloth than it was with disposable; more friction and less of that pleasant pulpy squish. The seal on the diaper was far too tight, and he lacked the coordination to reach his hands inside his baby pants anyways.  

Still, Nanny noted, he was doing a good enough job all things considered.  To hurry things along, she leant down and gave him a kiss on the forehead and pressed her palm against the front of his diaper for good measure.  She was keenly aware when he orgasmed by the throbbing, erratic pulse seconds later and by the slowing gyration of his hips.

“All done,” she whispered. “Good baby.”   Marco was asleep in her arms before she’d gotten all the words out.  She signed contentedly and then handed him over to her servant.  “Take him a step down.  Make sure all of his adult underwear is completely gone.”

“Aye.”.

“I want him to have always been in Pull-Ups within a fortnight, and to be in diapers at bedtime.  Possibly pooping his pants and needing to ‘take a break’ from potty training at times.”

“Not taking your time with this one?”  Her puppet asked.

“Do you really think I need to?”  There was nothing to be gained except an extension on her life with Marco.  With most of them in fact.

The Centaur made a cursory bow with the diapered male passed out in his arms. “Your will is Malacus’s will, as always.”  Then out of habit more than anything he whispered her latest victim “Come along, Marco.  Let’s get you sorted out.”

Idly, she thought about the Dean boy and made a promise to herself to visit him soon. He’d called out for her and she’d obliged, but it would do him well to always be expecting her in one form or another without expecting her to be at his beck and call.   It would also give her an excuse to be Annie again. It would do him good to be ignored by her as well, remind him of who held the cards here.

Just thinking about him made her nipples ache, longing to be nursed from. Marco just might not be the next one to taste her.  He might have to wait, the poor dumb thing.

It was a shame she’d agreed to not take anything more from Tommy. He would have looked cute having no choice to crawl around on the floor bare kneed with his diapered butt up in the air.  Tommy really was her favorite; best she’d had in a long while.  Favorite or not, though, a girl who had transcended humanity had to eat.

Marco and whatever successors came after would have to do as far as nourishment was concerned.  As far as amusement went, however…

She had options.

***********************************************************************************************
“Who is it?” Mommy called out before she reached the door.

“It’s me,” Mrs. Watson’s muted voice called back through the thick pine.

Mommy opened the door, seeming confused.  “Hello?”

“Sorry about this,” Charlie’s mother said. “For some reason when we pulled into our driveway, Charlie started going beserk. He kept reaching out towards your house and crying something fierce.”

“Oh no,” Mommy said. “I don’t think so.  You can come in and take a look if you want, but I don’t remember there being much for Charlie’s level.”

Hearing the conversation, Tommy waddled up to see his estranged deadbeat dad, wide eyed in his grandmother’s arms.

“Did Charlie leave one of his baby toys over here or something? Maybe Tommy accidentally took it with him or something? I know he wouldn’t do it on purpose,” she quickly slipped in. “I know he can’t talk, but it seemed super important to Charlie that he be here.”

Charlie seemed excited, that much was obvious. But he didn’t seem angry, or panicked, or otherwise fussy.  Not distressed at all.  In fact, if Tommy had to draw a direct parallels, Charlie was Max Bialystock looking at Tommy’s Leo Bloom and about to break out into “We Can Do It!”.

“Tommy!” Charlie squawked.  “Dude! We gotta talk! You won’t believe what I figured out!”