The New Narnia-Chapter 48: Mommy's Boy

Chapter 48: Mommy’s Boy.

Tommy woke up surrounded by crib bars.  Rather than a shock, it was something of a pleasant surprise.  It was a nice feeling, like being wrapped up and swaddled by the bed itself.  Everywhere on his periphery he was guarded and safe.  

“Looks like someone’s awake just in time.”  A head popped up right behind him.  It was one of the caregivers.  No longer in direct contact with Malacus’s atmosphere (if a magical quasi-place could be said to have an atmosphere) she looked completely human.  No more near Barbie Doll proportions or pointy ears.  “Mommy’s here!”

Groggily, Tommy rubbed his eyes and started to sit up.  “You’re not my Mommy.”

The daycare worker blew air plast her lips.  “I know, silly.  I’m just here to take you to her.”  Some forty something crying about a blowout interrupted the moment.  “Uh-oh!” She turned her head.  “Coming Shannon!” She turned to Tommy.  “Be right back!”

Charlie crawled up to the crib and pulled himself up to his feet.  “You still in there, my dude?”

On his own set of shaky legs- more due to the plush pillow like mattress than a lack of ability- Tommy pulled himself up as well.   His diaper was positively soaked through and swollen to the point of bursting.  Every bit was discolored and the very edges hung parallel with his knees.  He could stand, but some quick mental calculus told Tommy that it would have been easier for him to crawl than walk.  If Tommy hadn’t already confirmed the existence of magic, he might have called this a minor miracle.  The fact that someone more than twice his age was having shit scraped off the backs of her legs, however, implied that maybe the magic didn’t extend to the baby products themselves.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “Why?”

“You’ve been out of it for a while,” Charlie said.  “Missed the rest of outside and you’ve been dozing since before lunchtime.  Most kids take a nap that long and part of them don’t wake up.  You sure you’re still you?”

Tommy winced.  How did he prove that?  “Yeah.” he said.  “Pretty sure.”

“How sure?”

“My favorite episode of Spongebob Squarepants is the re-enactment of the original Broadway Show starring Ethan Slater.”

“Okay. Yeah.” Charlie admitted  “That sounds pretty sure.  How’d you do that flying thing?”

Tommy pondered for a hot second on how to best phrase this. “Um...you know how I jumped the line in getting here?”

“Yeah?”  But before Tommy could reply, Charlie seemed to connect the dots.  “Aaaaah….flying was your power fantasy, huh?”

“One of them…”

“I turned giant,” Charlie said.   From what he’d already learned, that didn’t surprise Tommy in the least.  “So does that mean you’re banned from the playground?”

Tommy pouted out his lip.  “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah?  Why not?” Charlie arched an eyebrow.

“I think I gave...or she took it away.”

“How’d that happen?  Did she take you to the castle?”

“What castle?”

Charlie frowned.  “Guess not.  You’d remember that.  How’d she take your flying away?”

Tommy blushed.  “I uh...drank her milk and made a promise…?”  Tommy thought it tactful not to mention what had happened in his pants right before.  Even between perpetually horny perverts, there was such a thing as discretion.

“You drank the milk?  Her milk?!”  Charlie looked baffled.  “Oh wow.  Like, directly from the tap?  That’s...impressive that your’e still playing with a full deck.”  His eyes went below Tommy’s waist.  “Explains that, though.”

Tommy lowered to his knees with his legs getting wobbly on the overstuffed mattress.  “Yeah?  What does it explain?”

“If it wasn’t already, pretty sure your toilet training is completely wrecked now.”

“You mean I’m incontinent?”

“Worse.”

The boy wanted to ask more, but before he could, the caregiver came back.  “Come on, Tommy.  Mommy’s waiting.”  She lifted him out of the crib.  Up against solid flesh and bone, Tommy really began to appreciate just how inflated and saturated his padding was.  A quick glance at the mattress below took away another incorrect assumption.  

Two little crescent moons stained the mattress where he’d been laying.  He’d leaked.  Big time.  For the first time he could remember, Tommy felt a twinge of true embarrassment concerning his bladder and non-existent pants.

It was fine, he assured himself.  Someone else, some automaton shaped like a human would just wash the sheets and the waterproof cover beneath them, if not outright magic them away.  

He was taken out the same way that he was brought in, through Dutch doors that he could have sworn hadn’t existed previously and into an empty toddler’s preschool.  Mommy was waiting for him, all smiles.

“There he is!”  Tommy tensed up at hearing her voice.  That morning and the dropoff came to mind.  He was supposed to be back in Pull-Ups.  “Why is he wearing…?” It wasn’t the first time Nanny/Annie had forgotten to put him back in training pants.  Her particular form of regression was a one-way track.

“Oh? The diaper?” The daycare worker construct glanced at Tommy’s waist.  “I know your primary reason for putting him in Pull-Ups was because you couldn’t find diapers that would fit him.  We’ve got more than enough in his size here and they hold much more and prevent rash much better than Pull-Ups.”

“What are you…?”

“He’s got some extra developmental skillsets, but it’s not even close to level across the board.  Functionally he’s not even two when it comes to potty training.”

“That…!” Quick like a cockroach, slow enough to see but too fast to stop, Tommy witnessed a single wisp of glowing white smoke shoot up Mommy’s nostrils.  “That’s such a relief!”  Tommy found himself handed off, squishing against one woman, and then another, with the faintest bit of residue starting to sweat down the inside of his thighs.  “Speaking of relief…”  Tommy felt himself being lowered down to the ground and looking up at the ceiling.  “Do you have a spare?”

Mommy started digging through the diaper bag, and slid a changing pad underneath her newly little boy.  A fresh Pampers was placed into her hand and Mommy started to unfold it as easily as if she’d never stopped changing diapers.

The caregiver andoid handed a bottle of powder and a pack of baby wipes to Mommy.  “I’ll switch out the Pull-Ups,” she said.  “I think he’ll be much more comfortable in these.”

“That’s all I want,” Mommy said. “That’s all anybody really wants.”  

Tommy swooned at the proclamation.  The velcro tabs came undone on the positively soaked Pampers and Mommy set to work wiping his penis and bottom.  The feeling inside and out of Tommy was incredible.  

It was a bit like coming out of a pool after a long day of swimming.  He’d been submerged in his own filth for so long that his brain had almost forgotten it was to be clean.  So it was just as shocking and surprising in a good way as it had been the first time.  He felt well and truly naked, but not embarrassed.  It was like being reborn in a way as Mommy cleaned him. Darn near therapeutic.

“These really must be good at stopping rash.” Mommy said inspecting him far for than he was expecting.  For some reason he didn’t feel embarrassed about it.  “I don’t want my Tommy Wommy to have a rash,” Mommy switched on the motherese.  “That makes for a fussy baby!  We don’t want that! No one wants a fussy baby!”  

Her fingers danced on his tummy, tickling him at the belly button. The corners of his mouth twisted up as surely and quickly as his legs kicked out when knee met hammer.  A spurt of pee shot out of him, but Mommy quickly threw down a wipe to block it.  The stream was weak enough and brief enough to where it was manageable.  

“Ooops!” she giggled.  She took out another wipe and redid her previous work on his member.  “Mommy shouldn’t have done that when she was in the Splash Zone!”  

She slipped the new diaper underneath him and didn’t let his legs down until his bum was thoroughly powdered.  The front got more than just a dash too, and he gently exhaled while the new Pampers was firmly yet delicately fastened on.  “Much better.”

Tommy agreed.  Is this what Charlie meant about having his potty training wrecked? To feel like every change was like the first with no decrease in intensity or desire?  To be able to completely tune out any and all embarrassment and self-disgust with what he was doing to himself or having done to him?  To be able to focus and unfocus at the delicious sensory input and enjoy it for what it felt like instead of what he rationally knew it to be.?  If so, the boy didn’t want it back.  

Just before Mommy picked him back up, Tommy bent his neck and looked at her handiwork.  The new Pampers featured the unmistakable image of Bert and Ernie!  How neat was that?    That was another nice thing about this.  With his new clothes he got new and fun designs almost every time.  True, when he’d had accidents before his pants would get changed, Thomas would get replaced with Percy, or Chase would be changed out for Rubble.  Now, however, Bert and Ernie would keep him company and looking cute, and then Cookie Monster, or Big Bird, or Elmo, or Abby Cadabby would come and go, several times a day.  And when that got old, he was sure he could ask for Huggies and get Mickey and Minnie and friends.  If he wanted something simpler, Luvs was functional yet pleasing to the eye.  Who knew how many cute designs the various store brands had.

Most importantly, there was none of the shame, like he’d failed.  The change wasn’t the result of an ‘accident’ or preventable circumstance.  It was a reward for doing what came most naturally.  Forget toilet training!

And so he did…

“Here you go,” his mother was handed back a full diaper bag, now with actual diapers. Tommy looked up and saw that the so-called worker was also holding an entire box of Pampers in her arms.  “I can take these out and put them in your trunk if you’d like.  Save you a trip to the store.

So these not-quite humans could go out of the daycare; at least as far as the parking lot.  Interesting.

“I’m going to the store anyways, but that would be lovely, thank you.”  On the way out to the car, Tommy heard her mutter to herself.  “I wonder if his old changing table is still in the garage.”  Tommy had a feeling that not only was there a changing table in the garage, but it would be as good as new.

He let himself laugh and coo as he was buckled in while the trunk was popped open and his new diapers were deposited.  “There you go, baby!” Mommy said, fastening the final buckle between his legs.

Diapers. Diapers for the rest of his life.  He’d never outgrow anything, but he’d be getting new clothes every day for the rest of his life.  Mommy never had and never would have spent that much money on him back when she was Mary Dean.  Now as his Mommy, now and forever, and would have the means to care for him forever.  

Maybe Mary always would’ve turned out like Mommy if only she had the means.  That was a nice thought.  Tommy chose to think of it that way.  It made him happier.

“Ready to go to the store?” Mommy asked from the driver’s seat.

Tommy nodded.  “Uh-huh!”  Then he thought to ask.  “What are we going to the store for?”

Mommy just put a finger to her lips.  “It’s a surprise.  A special one to celebrate your first day at daycare!”  He whined for more but got a, “Just be patient baby boy.”

He liked the sound of that.  Not ‘patient’ but ‘baby boy’.  He was better than a baby boy, though.  Societally speaking, a child was an investment; a way to continue a legacy or care for the parents when they were old and infirm. A genetic quid-pro-quo.  Not so with Tommy.  He could now forever be cherished and doted on by Mommy, something to be loved unconditionally with no expectations.  

It was the kind of thing he didn’t even know he needed.  

The ride was much longer than expected.  Mommy was driving him all the other way across town to the Scrumpton Mall, where the bougiest of the bougie shopped and looked for top tier service over discount.  Tommy only deduced it because going to the Mall was such a treat, usually only on Black Fridays that he’d had the basic route memorized since fourth grade.  Odd.  The idea that that was where they were going more than anything, reassured Tommy of his family’s financial security.  

Fortunately, Tommy was kept entertained the entire way there.  Mommy had an attachment to her phone and began to play children’s songs through the car speakers.

“Five little speckled frogs,
sat on a speckled log,
eating some most delicious bugs
Yum-Yum!
One jumped into the pool,
Where it was nice and cool,
Then there were four green speckled frogs.
Glub! Glub!”

She sang along with it, her voice not professional but mesmerizing in its joy and confidence.

“Four little speckled frogs…”

Tommy had heard enough.  A simple and fun count down song. Delightful!  And for the first time since he could remember, his mother seemed proud of him.

“Again! Again!”

“How about a different one?” Mommy offered.

The different one wasn’t all that different.

“There were four in the bed and the little one said-”

“ROLL OVER!” Tommy belted.  “ROLL OVER!”  He might not ever be center stage but he could certainly be the star from his own car seat.

“So one rolled over and one rolled out.”

“Here’s an oldie but a goodie,” Mommy offered.

“B—A—bay

B—E—be

B—I—bicky-bi—B—O—bow

Bicky—bi—bow—B—U—boo

Bicky—bi—bow—boo”

Tommy’s brows raised in surprise.  What was this?

“C—A—say

C—E—see

C—I—sicky-sigh—C—O—sow

Sicky—sigh—sow—C—U—sue

Sicky—sigh—sow—sue.”

“Mommy?” Tommy asked.  “What’s this?”

“It’s swingin’ the alphabet.  This was old when I was your age.  Try it!”

Not one to be daunted. If he could memorize patter singing, he could memorize this silly little ditty.  Finally, by T, he’d gotten the hang of it.

“T-A-tay
T-E-tee
T-I-ticky-tie-T-O-tow
Ticky-tie-tow-T-U-Tue
Ticky-tigh-tow-tue.”

At its core it was more about repeating sounds, more than words: ‘Ay’, ‘ee’, ‘I’, ‘oh’, and ‘yoo’.  Everything else was alphabetical, though the skipping of the vowels had thrown him off the first two or three times.

“That’s my boy!  So smart!  So clever!  Such a clever baby!”  The words flowed like a salve over the wounds in Tommy’s soul.  No longer a means to an end. No longer obligated to anything.  Free to be himself.

With swinging the alphabet mastered, Mary had a little lamb was cake, as was Row Row Row Your boat.  Though as of right now, merrily merrily merrily, life was but a dream.

He almost didn’t want the songs to stop, but when Mommy turned off the car, he remembered that he had a trip to the store in his immediate future.  A trip for him.  Wiggling in anticipation he looked down at the bottom buckle and thought he felt a squish down below.

Already? Was he wet again?  He legitimately couldn’t tell.  He had either peed too little- this particular diaper didn’t have a wetness indicator- or the absorbency was just so good that it was hard to determine at this point.  Maybe he hadn’t gone pee-pee at all and had just broken his new underwear in.

Oh well.  Not his problem.  Might never be again.

The door open and Mommy unbuckled him.  “Let’s go my bubba-wubba!” she chriped at him and tickled him.  This time, he was sure he peed a little at her rubbing at his ribs.  He peed a little and didn’t care. “Up we go!”

Tommy was riding along in Mommy’s arms through the parking lot, the afternoon sun blazing down on a field of concrete and cars.  The feel of the cool air conditioning was a more than pleasant contrast.  Less than ten steps in, Tommy saw a different kind of car.

“Mommy! Mommy!” He said.  “I want that. I want that.”  Mommy stopped and followed Tommy’s pointer finger.  Just inside the shopping center were rental strollers stacked up on top of each other like grocery carts.  What really caught the not-so-big baby’s attention was the fact that they were designed to look like cars with bright coats of paint on sturdy plastic and equally decorative steering wheels.

Tommy never had gotten to drive a real car.  He’d never gotten to drive a fake one

“You want to drive, Tommy?”  Mommy hemmed for a second, yet started reaching past the diaper bag for her purse.  “Sure.  Why not.”

One credit card swipe later, and Tommy found himself buckled into a shiny bright red number.  The steering wheel, of course, turned with ease, but it did nothing to affect his propulsion.  A tiny not quite electric squeak came out when he pushed the bright red button.  “Oh! Sweet!”  

“We only use that in emergencies,” Mommy reminded him.  She put both Tommy’s diaper bag and her purse in a holding compartment just behind the stroller proper.  

Tommy turned his head as much as the stroller’s safety belts would let him.  “Yes, Mommy.”  Still...he’d have been lying if he said he hadn’t been tempted by the idea of honking at every passerby and waving to them like a little big shot.

As it turned out, Tommy didn’t need the horn. All through the mall from the shoe store to the food court, Tommy was the center of attention.  An old couple out on an air conditioned power walk waved to him and smiled big denture grins as if he were their own grandson.  The old woman elbowed her husband and looked at him knowingly, as if they were reminiscing when their own children were that ‘age’.

“Mommy! Mommy!” A girl who only looked old enough to just be out of diapers herself shouted.  “Look at the baby!”  

The two mothers- Tommy’s and the girl’s- said quiet greetings in passing, and then Tommy heard “That’s right Dakota, that is a baby.  Just like you used to be.”  Not quite, but Tommy was in no position or inclination to disabuse them of that notion.

Several girls that Tommy vaguely recognized from highschool-goodness that seemed so long ago already-saw him and giggled.  It was the kind of pointing, giggling, and whispering, that felt good instead of bad.  They were aware enough to lower their voices after a friendly wiggling of their fingers, but Tommy knew where their thoughts were headed.  The girl in the lead putting her hand over her stomach telegraphed.

They might be ready to be babysitters, but not mothers.  Ready to play with the babies, but equally eager to give them back at the end of the day.  As things stood, that suited Tommy just fine.  For plenty of people, eighteen was a paradox. Eighteen was legally an adult but still feeling like a child.  Eighteen was just old enough to maybe know how little you really knew.  For TOmmy this was much more literal than the passing cuties.

He twisted his neck and looked past Mommy just to watch the girls walk away that extra second or so.  

For someone who had been on the outskirts of his peer group his entire life, being removed from it felt a lot like being popular.  All the attention came his way.  All the adoration.  All the love.  All he had to be was ‘not an adult’.  Beyond the most sour of sourpusses, who didn’t like a baby?

The brown, tan, and black tiles, meant to give the feel and general appearance of a more refined city walkway, never quite complimented the the gray carpets and black tiles of each store being passed. Every store was its own little ecosystem; a world contained to itself with the ball just being a giant chasm connected them all.

That, or more likely Tommy had too much clock on the brain.

The racecar stroller sidled up by a field of smooth and bright white. White like perfect teeth on a smile. “Tommy,” Mommy said.  “Look where we are!”

Tommy turned his head and for the first time that day felt completely overwhelmed.  The floor was so polished he could see his reflection.  Friendly, upbeat pop music with cleaned up lyrics sung by children played in the store, mixing with electronic beeps and buzzes.  The counter, of course, was right by the entrance, but beyond it were perfectly lined up shelves and stacked displays of dolls, stuffed animals, play-doh, and action figures.

A toy store!  Not just a toy aisle but an entire store.  “Mommy?”  Tommy’s voice took on a note of wonder.  Tommy could never remember having been to a real toy store.  Growing up, Tommy got his toys from garage sales and hand-me-downs from other kids who would let him ‘borrow’ a toy and then promptly forget about the loan.  

“Surprise!  Happy first day of school, Tommy!”

Tommy was so excited that he was finally able to feel wet despite the absorbent padding wrapped around him.  “Mommy!” he bounced against the faux seatbelt.  “I wanna get out! I wanna get out!”  This was going to be his first time ever in such a place, and Tommy wouldn’t settle for being pushed around in a cart for this part.  

His mother didn’t so much as pretend to hesitate.  “Oh, I never could say no to you,” she said.  Which as far as she knew was the truth.  There was a time when not only did she say no, but also demanded help and labor in whatever shortsighted scheme she’d kicked up.

Tommy stood in total awe, holding Mommy’s hand and being walked into the store.  The stroller was left to the side of the entrance and quickly forgotten as soon as Mommy had her purse.  Earlier that day, he’d discovered a daycare with a backdoor to an alternate dimension, yet this is what felt more awe inspiring than an infinite playground.  This was more than an infinite playground.  This moment was real and belonged solely to him.

“Let’s look around,” Mommy encouraged him.  “You can get any toy you want.”

“Any toy?” Tommy asked.  Then, perhaps a little selfishly added,  “No sharing?”

“All for you, baby boy.  I don’t think your sister would be interested unless you decide to get My Little Pony,” Mommy assured him.

Tommy wasn’t sure what he was going to get, but avoiding My Little Pony wouldn’t be hard.  The temptation simply wasn’t there for him.  He just didn’t know where the temptation was.  In the same way that an unlimited menu might make things difficult for choosing a last meal, the concept of being able to get anything was daunting.

Mommy tried to help. “Do you want these train tracks?”

“No.”

“These cars?”

“No.”

“What about these weebly wobblies?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? They’ll weeble and they’ll wobble but they won’t fall down.”

“I’m sure.”

“How about this drawing pad?  It uses magnets and it’s super easy to erase.”

Tommy reached for the box and then stopped.  “No.”

In trying to help, Mommy was kind of doing the opposite.  The very real fear that Tommy might refuse every toy in the store just because his Mommy suggested it. “What about this?”

“N-”  Tommy stopped and sucked in his breath.  His hands clapped together in excitement and he felt himself rocking back and forth on his heels with pure ecstatic energy.  Having never been to an amusement park before, Tommy imagined this was how people reacted when they found out they were finally tall enough to ride a roller coaster.

The box he was looking at was huge, largely due to comparison.  Blue with yellow trim, the black wheels of the tricycle were held aloft by curved parallel tracks.  The rider, a smiling tot so young as to not have a full head of hair, and whose t-shirt and shorts were literally the same thing had a big goofy grin on his face.  Tommy pictured himself riding that..  It was one of the most immature, most babyish things he’d ever seen and he wanted it more than anything in the world.  

“That!” Tommy yelled.  “I WANT THAT!”

Mommy bent over and looked at the box.  “A rocking horse tricycle,” she said.  “Hmm…”  She took the relatively massive thing off the bottom shelf and inspected the packaging.  “Oh!  It says here that it can go back and forth and go from a rocking horse to a tricycle.”

Of course Tommy knew that.  He’d yet maintained his ability to read.  Good that his mother was seeing the possibilities.

“Can I?”  Tommy asked.  “Please?”

Mommy hefted the box (some assembly required) up in her arms.  “I did say you could get anything.”  She let out the playfully exasperated sigh that parents do when they don’t want to seem like they’re spoiling their children.   She didn’t have to wait for Tommy to lead the way to the counter.  Toddler gait or not he was still moving faster than her.

“We’re going to have to use your stroller as a shopping cart,” Mommy said, hefting the relatively massive package inside the faux racecar.  As far as Tommy was concerned, he was trading a temporary toddler racecar for a permanent toddler motorcycle; more than a fair trade. Mommy bent over and picked him up, patting his bottom before settling on a position to carry him.  “Wow.  Mommy’s baby boy is quite a heavy wetter, isn’t he?”

Tommy blushed, but not from embarrassment.

“MOMMY!” a strangely familiar voice rang out.  “CAN WE GO TO THE TOY STORE?  CAN WE?  CAN WE?”

The Deans, altered mother and shrunken son turned towards the sound of the voice.   A blush rose to Tommy’s face.  This time it wasn’t quite from embarrassment, not direct embarrassment, anyways.

Practically... no, literally skipping across the mall floor at almost a gallop, was Amanda Monroe.  If not for his long time infatuation with the girl, Tommy might not have recognized the young woman.  

She certainly didn’t look like a young woman.  Her hair was tied back in a positively Gaudy bow, and she wore a matching sundress.  An equally gaudy bow wrapped around her waist gave it slightly more form than it otherwise might have, and her sneakers lit up when she walked.  He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he could have sworn something was off about the way she was walking too, but perhaps he was distracted by the fact that she was very clearly not wearing a bra.

“HI TOMMY!”  She waved her hands so fast and so close in.  “IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU!”

Trotting along doggedly behind her, was another woman.  From the looks of her, Tommy assumed it to be Amanda’s mother.  Though there was something slightly artificial about her, too.  Not artificial in the way that denizens of Malacus were artificial, just the type of mother who would proudly proclaim that people sometimes confused Amanda and her for sisters.  Not an artificial person; just a very fake one.

The only thing she carried that wasn’t top shelf cougar mom fashionable, was a pastel pink cloth purse.  She looked more like the type of person to tote around a Gucci number that had a useless little dog poking its head out of it.

“Amanda!” the woman called after her.  “Honey, you’ve got to stop running up to strangers and bothering them.”  She looked at Tommy’s Mommy and said, “I’m so sorry.  We’ve been going through...a lot lately.”

Mommy’s memory, altered though it may have been, wasn’t quite altered enough.  She tilted her head to the side.  “Amanda?”

The look on Amanda’s face seemed strained and conflicted.  Like she’d just farted in churched or something.  Her face twitched and got some color to it, and she bit her lip and looked away.  It was like every instinct in her body was running counter to her brain or vice versa, and that although Amanda could realize that on some level, she was powerless to stop it.

A look of deep disturbance floated across Mommy’s face. “Amanda?”  she repeated herself.  She looked to the other adult...the other real adult...for confirmation.

“Oh no,” Amanda’s mother said.  “Did Amanda babysit for you?”

“Yeah…” it was Tommy who answered, not Mommy.  The look of quiet embarrassment and strain pulling against impulse multiplied.  It was like she both wanted to scream at the top of her lungs while realizing that wasn’t appropriate.

A baby trapped in an adult’s body...or an adult feeling forced to behave as a baby.  It was hard to tell.  Either way, she knew just enough to show that she was embarrassed.

“Yes,” Mommy answered;  “She just sat with Tommy and Katy a few nights ago. What happened to her?”  

Amanda’s mother was shaking her head like she was talking about a serious cancer diagnosis.  “I have no clue.  Her doctor and the psychologist said to just go with it for now, but...”  

Mommy seemed confused.  “What’s…?”

“A few days ago, she had an...accident.  Since then she hasn’t been the same.”

“Like a car accident?”  Mommy asked.

“No. Like a…”  The lady’s eyes darted towards Tommy’s behind.  The milk Tommy had passed on the other day; the milk he’d suckled down this morning; had worked it’s wonders too well on Amanda with neither the shield of Malacus’s mists nor the loophole of inscribing his identity on Malacus’s walls.

Meanwhile, Tommy looked at Amanda, who like a preschooler, was done waving and looking longingly into the toy store and dancing from foot to foot. He caught guilty asides and glimpses from her.  Clearly, from everything she was doing, she wanted to go inside the toy store, but knew she shouldn’t.  She was an alcoholic looking at rows and rows of top shelf liquor.

If she had been Tommy’s size, nothing would have seemed out of place. She would have been a good little girl who was just starting to learn a modicum of self control.  She wasn’t Tommy’s size, however, and so she was a young woman who had had a breakdown and was barely scraping it together.  Not even that.

Nervously, as if she had too much energy in her for her body to contain, Amanda bent over to touch her toes and Tommy along with the rest of the mall’s passerby got a show of thick padding backed by soft plastic and a medical wetness indicator.

“Amanda!  Her mother hissed.  “Stand up straight!”

Tommy’s former crush had the good enough sense to snap her back straight up and smooth out the hem of her dress back over her bulging backside.  “Sorry Mommy…”  She hadn’t gotten used to wearing diapers yet, even if she clearly needed them.  She still had something resembling shame.

She blushed a little bit.  “Sorry Tommy.  Sorry Mrs. Tommy’s Mommy…”  A wince.  “Mrs. Dean…”

To add to the alcoholic allegory, Amanda seemed both drunk off her ass, but cognizant enough to realize it and know it wasn’t a good thing to be that shitfaced in public.  It wasn’t doing anything to help her sober up, though.

“Is she wearing a…?!” Mommy asked, aghast.  This didn’t help Amanda’s complexion.

Tommy started to blushing too, out of second hand embarrassment for the girl.

Mutely, Amanda’s mother nodded in embarrassing confirmation.  “She’s ruined everything else.  She can’t even change herself.”  Something came together in Tommy’s mind. That wasn’t a pink purse Amanda’s mother had been carrying.  

Tommy saw Amanda sucking on her teeth.  A glance at a ruined thumbnail, and he had a good feeling that that wasn’t the only infantile nervous habit she’d developed.

“A chemical imbalance?” Mommy asked.  “Cancer?”

“We’re still trying to figure that out.”  Strange.  She was exactly like so many of the other people in the daycare, but without Malacus’s magic to shrink bodies and cloud minds, Amanda had become something very different than Tommy.  “So far nothing has worked.”

“Mommy?”  Tommy spoke up.  “Can Amanda still come over and play with me?  As a friend?”  He had no idea why he was asking this beyond guilt.  It had been his fault why she was being seen like this.  He’d given her that magic milk; squirted it right into her mouth.  

This? Though?  Even for Amanda this was a bit harsh.  Regressed and ostracized at the same time?  

“OH MOMMY!” Amanda screamed; she only seemed to have one volume.  She quickly corrected it.  “Can I? Please please please please please?”  Never in a million years would Tommy have predicted Amanda Monroe literally begging to hang out with him.  The poor girl must’ve become very lonely in such a short time.

The two adults with any kind of authority looked at each other.  “Maybe…” they both said.  Tommy couldn’t tell if it was an actual ‘maybe’ or just a soft ‘no’ to ensure compliance.

“YAAAAAY!”  Amanda jumped up and down, the hem of her dress flapping when she did.  She apparently only had one volume at present.  “CAN I GET A TOY TOO?”

The two adults looked at each other again.  Tommy felt Mommy shrug.

“I think we should get you changed first,” Amanda’s mother said.  She sniffed.  “God I hope you’re just wet.”

“I DON’T WANNA GET CHANGED!”  Amanda stomped her foot.  “I DON’T WANNA! I DON’T WANNA! I DON’T WANNA!”  She looked about three seconds away from throwing herself on the floor.

Her mother leaped in front of her, as if obscuring her from the public eye might lower Amanda’s volume.  “Okay okay okay,” she stage whispered.  “You can get changed after I get you a toy.  How’s that?”

Amanda immediately perked up.  For the first time she didn’t yell, but instead gave a polite little squeak of “Okay,” and went trotting inside with an exhausted looking middle aged woman behind her.

A pat to his bottom brought Tommy out of his own thoughts and out of his misery.  “Speaking of change,” Mommy said.  I think it’s about time to get you into something dry again, my little puddle pants”  Her voice went back up several octaves, the awkward encounter with his former crusher instantly forgotten.

Amanda was pitiable, but Tommy was cute.  It was the difference between ‘diaper’ and ‘adult diaper’.

The quiet hum of the machines and conversation faded into Tommy’s ears approaching the food court. Common sense dictated that the restrooms be right next to the food court, though far enough away to be considered their own area.  Mess hall uphill and latrines downhill as it were.

The stroller had become a kind of ad-hoc shopping cart and was only able to fit his new ride and Mommy’s purse and diaper bag.  The thing was just clumsy enough that she had to back into the ladies room instead of charging forward.  

The ladies room: There was unvisited territory.  Remembering Amanda’s embarrassment, Tommy resisted.  Remembering his own protections, Tommy opted to go with the feeling and sucked on his thumb.

“I think someone needs his diaper changed!” Mommy’s voice seemed even louder than usual in the restroom’s acoustics.  “Yes he does!  My little Tommy needs a new diaper!  Just went right through the old one!”

She pulled down the changing table right inside the entrance and slid Tommy onto it.   “I don’t want my baby boy to fall off,” she explained, pinning him down with the strap.  At least he was still able to suck his thumb.

The flush of a toilet, and the sound of running water in a sink, alerted Tommy to the fact that while he was the only person getting his diaper changed here, he and Mommy were far from alone in this room.

“Oh wow!” Mommy gushed, giving the front of his diaper a squeeze. “You really are a heavy wetter!  If this was a Pull-Up you’d be dribbling down your legs by now.”  She bent over and retrieved the diaper bag.  “Good thing the nursery gave me the thicker ones.”

She hadn’t been exaggerating.  Tommy had seen smaller throw pillows.

Bert and Ernie disappeared as Mommy opened the diaper and started to gently wipe him down.

“Awwww,”  A voice!  One of the girls from school!   “They’re so cute when they’re that little.”

Mommy kept wiping Tommy, undeterred or bothered by the conversation.  “They’re a handful,” Mommy replied.  “But he’s worth it.”  

Her stride wasn’t even broken.  She balled up the old diaper and tossed it away with the wipes.

“Here,” the pretty senior offered.  She unfolded the new diaper, Tommy caught a glimpse of Cookie Monster.  “You’ve definitely got your hands full.”

“Rookie mistake,” Mommy laughed at herself.  She took the now unfolded Pampers and deposited it beneath her shrunken son.  “You’d think I’d stop making those.  Senior moment, I guess.”

“Almost makes me want to have one of my own,”  she wistfully said.  

“I had Tommy when I was about your age,” Mommy replied.  “Haven’t regretted it.”  She started adding more powder and rubbing it in for good measure.  

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” the girl said.  “He is a cutie though.”  Once again, Malacus’s magic was preventing the girl...or anyone really...from doing the math and emotionally realizing that this was far from normal for an eighteen year old.

“Well if and when you do have one,”  Mommy advised,  “Wait for them to tell you when they’re ready to potty train.  It’ll save you both a lot of frustration and a lot of laundry.  You and the little stinker will be MUCH happier.”  She quickly brought up the dry diaper and taped it on.

“Thanks for the lifehack,” the former peer said, walking out.  “Bye cutie.”

The fact that these two women could have a complete conversation about him all while he was getting his diaper changed right in front of him was both slightly embarrassing and intoxicating.  A combination of adorable helplessness and powerful exhibitionism.

“She seemed nice,” Mommy said.  “I should have asked for her number.  It looks like you and Katy will need a new babysitter anyways.”

Tommy’s throat went dry with excitement...it was about the only thing that could go dry today.  “Why don’t you?”

“Because Mommy didn’t come here just for you,” Mommy replied.  Instead of following the girl out, Mommy went deeper into the restroom and pushed open a stall.  

“What are we-?” Tommy started to ask.
“Mommy has to go Potty, too,” she said. “But Mommy doesn’t have a diaper like you.”

“Potty?” Tommy said dumbly.  The word suddenly felt empty and numb on his lips.  Almost meaningless.  The inside door of the stall had a tiny little fold out chair; the restroom equivalent of a high chair.  It didn’t take Mommy long to secure him in it.  “What?”

Tommy got his answer, too soon, but it only raised more questions.

Why was Mommy pulling down her pants and underwear?  Why was she sitting on the toilet?  Where was that sound coming from; the one that sounded like water hitting more water like a tiny fountain.  He looked down at Cookie Monster and realized that even though it had just happened, he had no words to describe how to get the Pampers back off him.  How had Mommy managed to get her pants down like that.

Mommy reached over for some paper and started to wipe herself.

“Mommy?”  Tommy asked.  “What’s going on?”

“I’m going potty, silly.  It’s what grown-ups do.”

His toilet training was going to be wrecked, he’d been warned.  He was just starting to understand what that meant.  On a very basic level he understood what his mother was doing literally right in front of him, but he was finding it harder and harder to use the words associated with the act.  Harder to understand or know how to replicate.  

It was like seeing a world class gymnast perform a routine when you couldn’t even do a cartwheel.  The vocabulary to describe what was happening seemed overly complex to Tommy, never mind replicating the feet.

This is what had happened to Charlie.  It was likely what was happening to Amanda, too.  It’s certainly what Tommy was going through.  He knew it must be otherwise, but Tommy realized he couldn’t actively remember ever having gone potty before.  By the time Mommy had pulled her clothes back up, and pressed a silver handle, Tommy knew he wouldn’t have the capability to walk himself through the steps of what she’d just done.

“Mommy?”  Tommy asked.  “Are you potty trained?” He asked.

Mommy undid him from the little seat and took him to the row of sinks. “Of course, dear.  Why?”

“Am I?”  

“Don’t be silly, baby.  You don’t need to be.”  She washed her hands and leaned down to kiss him on the forehead.

In her leaning forward, Tommy noticed something else that had changed about his mother, something besides her entire attitude and general demeanor.  Something physical.  Her breasts looked bigger.  Perkier.  Younger even?  Tommy felt a sudden pain in his stomach.  A discomfort born from emptiness instead of fullness.  Something needed to go in, instead of come out.

Out of his mouth came a low, whining sound.  Almost instinctively, Tommy started mewling like a kitten instead of using his words.  To both of their surprises, two wet patches formed on Mommy’s shirt, right where her breasts were.

Mommy looked down at her chest.  “I knew I should have pumped before picking you up,” she said mostly to herself.  She laughed again, and it was a little more tired.  She was both a new mother and old hat at the same time as far as her body and brain knew.

She lifted up her shirt and loosened her bra.  It would be the last non-nursing bra Tommy would likely see her in.  “No time like the present.”  The echo of the public restroom made her mutterings sound more like proclamations of a goddess.  “Come on baby, drink up.”

 “Right here?” Tommy asked.  He was already being cradled.

“Yes, baby.  Now eat up.  Mommy’s nipples hurt and she needs your help.”

Tommy’s mother had breastfed him long ago.  He knew that much not only because she had mentioned it, but because Mary Dean had been notoriously cheap.  Food to feed children that she didn’t have to pay for was obviously preferable to formula.

Given that he’d also recently picked the haibt back up, and his own body was feeling more and more brand new and old hat at this infant thing, Tommy was finding it extremely difficult to resist the entreaty.

So he didn’t.  He latched on and began suckling.

It felt more than just a rush.  It felt more than just a weird bit of exhibitionism.  It felt more than just nourishment.  It felt more, but these feelings weren’t excluded.  

What it felt most of all, Tommy thought as happy cuddly hormones flooded his brain, was right.

It felt right.

For the first time all day, Tommy Dean felt right.  Not mischievous.  Not like he was getting away with something or tricking someone.

Tommy Dean felt right.

“Good baby.” Mommy cooed.  “Such a good baby.  Finish up and then we’ll stop by aftercare to pick up your sister.  Then we’ll go home.”