College or Cribs

Hello friends,

My name is Personalias, and I’m new to this site. I’ve been writing this story and posting it on other forums. I always love the chance to reach new audiences and hear constructive criticism. If you’ve already seen this story on another site you frequent, my apologies, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try to reach other people just in case.

-Personalias.

Re: College or Cribs

College or Cribs- By Personalias

Prologue: Apartment

Aaaaaaaaand done! Save save save save. Spellcheck. Save save save save! Run it through Turnitin.com to prove against plagarism. Submit. Gooaaaaal!

Christopher Cole IV threw his hands up in the hair and spun around in his leather backed swivel chair. With the sun a mere thirty minutes away from rising, Chris had done it: Chris had just turned in his final term paper for his junior year of college. On top of that, this was a particularly difficult semester.

Chris’s academic advisors even frowned upon Chris’s decision to double up his work load and not take summer courses. Chris didn’t listen. He didn’t drop a single course, and now, his face illuminated only by the soft glow of his computer screen, Chris had finished the superhuman task of finishing not one but 6 different term papers- all for pre-med classes.

It had taken incredible endurance, next to no offline social life, an addiction to caffine that bordered on suicidal, and roommates who were practically strangers, but Chris had finished what had to be, hands down, the toughest semester of his life. Now, he reasoned, he could make the long drive home, see his family, spend a lazy summer with his old high school friends, and not have to give a second thought about applying to Med School till September. Mission Accomplished.

Chris was about to fling open his door and do a victory dance and parade himself through the living room of his college apartment, but thought better of it when he looked down and realized he was still wearing a Bambino. The adult diaper with baby blocks stenciled in the front hung heavily between his legs. The two tapes on each side kept the garment firmly in place, but it still felt as if it were less fastened on, and more clinging to his waist for dear life. That’s what happened when you completely soaked a diaper to its limits. Chris needed a change. Badly. But this diaper was the last one he’d be wearing for a while, and for good reason.

Christopher Cole IV was an adult baby, (though he shuddered at the thought of being an “adult” anything). Before that he was a teen baby, before that he was a kid that fantasized about being treated as a baby. The point is, Chris had wanted to be a baby ever since he could remember not being one. Chris wasn’t even sure why. He hadn’t had a particularly bad life, as far as he could recount. His dad was a doctor, and made a lot of money to provide for the family. His mom had died of breast cancer when he was just eight, but Chris knew for a fact that he had had these desires long before. He had never gone hungry a day in his life, never been abused, and never had responsibility that he hadn’t asked for. Granted, his main reason for wanting to become a doctor had been driven by the fact that he liked expensive things, wanted to afford more, and that his dad had been a doctor, as had his grandfather. So there was a little subliminal pressure there- but who didn’t deal with that kind of stuff? No one, that’s who.

Bottom line: There was no good reason why Chris should have this fetish, yet he did. The sexual side of him was attracted to the vulnerability aspect and lack of control. It was like SnM but without the nasty and uncomfortable elements of whips and chains. Same play engine, different graphics. Kind of like how anyone who has played a Final Fantasy Game can pick up Pokemon in a jiffy. It was also more familiar to him too, and therefore more believable. Chris had never been in a dungeon before, but he had been in a nursery.

The non-sexual part of him was also fascinated with the “life style”. No control also meant no responsibility whatsoever. No responsibility meant no stress. As a baby, all Chris had to worry about was his own stimulation, entertainment, and relaxation without worrying about the needs or feelings of others. It was a wonderfully selfish thought. The versatility of the scenarios intrigued him to no end. It ould be amazingly humiliating and stressful, more relaxing than a day at the spa or with a mommy figure involved, completely intimate. Really, this thing had something for everybody. Why wasn’t this thing more mainstream?

Unfortunately, the reality of the situation was that it wasn’t mainstream to be an Adult Baby. Chris realized at a young age, that his wishes to return to infancy were not reciprocated by his peers, or encouraged by adults. He was supposed to be a big boy, followed by a kid, followed by a tween then teen, then adult. And so he was and did his best to appear to be. So he shut that side of himself off from the rest of the world, figuring himself to be a freak of some sort…maybe this was how pedophiles started.

It wasn’t until freshman year that he stumbled onto the scene and then began to realize he wasn’t the only one. He reached out to them, the kindred spirits that shared his fascination and desires. There wasn’t a message board safe from his pressence. Pretty soon, he learned tricks how to enjoy himself and keep it secret from the rest of the world. He opened up a P.O. box to have specialty supplies shipped to, and only brought them in the house when his roommates were gone or sure to be asleep. He had an alternate email account for purposes of communicating with his fellow AB’s and confirmation emails on certain products. He deleted his internet browsing history every time he logged off; and fortunately the specialty companies and community were every bit as paranoid as he was; with nondescript company names showing up on his credit card bills instead of “AB Fetish Supplies”. All in all, it was a good setup.

But Chris was going home now. That meant that if he wanted to keep his secret to the best of his ability, he had to go off grid completely while at his dad and step mom’s place. No telling how they would react if they found out, not to mention his friends, little sisters, and Sherry. Sherry had been his high school sweetheart, and they had managed to keep up a long distance relationship, despite going to separate colleges. They made sure to visit each other during Thanksgiving, Christmas, their respective Spring Breaks, this past year, Sherry even gave him a surprise visit for Valentine’s Day. (She had no idea how close she was to finding his secret stash, thank God for dirty clothes.)

Chris knew in his heart that he would have this summer, and maybe the next summer to have freetime with Sherry. After that, Medical School would consume his life. That would be the real test of their relationship.

Chris shook his head to clear the cobwebs out. Damn inner monologue. He’d been standing at the door in just a diaper for the past five minutes at least. The point was, he had a different life to live, and no one could find out his secret. Not his roommates, not his friends back home, not his family, and not Sherry. Especially not Sherry. It’d be over if she found out. It would just have to be. So he’d just have to go on one of the classic binge and purge cycles that were common in the fetish. He had just spent the last several nights holed up in his apartment room, wearing the last of his adult diapers. Then he’d toss them all out, sign off on the various AB message boards he was a member of, and go have a summer getaway from college. Simple as that.

Chris listened through the door to hear if there was any noise coming through the rest of the apartment. He could hear the TV going still. Either one of his roomies was going for some all-night marathon, or just as likely they fell asleep on the couch. He’d actually probably have a better time sneaking the stuff out and into the garbage around noonish when his roommates would be moving out for the summer themselves, going to their last classes, or passed out…speakng of which it was about that time and the thriteen Red Bulls he had chgged was finally wearing off.

So in nothing but a sodden Bambino, Christopher Cole IV locked the door to his room, just in case, and passed out on top of his bed, just slipping off to sleep as the first rays of daylight peaked out into the sky.

Re: College or Cribs

Chapter 1- Home

Getting home for the summer, Chris did not quite get the overwhelmingy warm welcome he had expected. It’s not that he was shunned, but they weren’t rolling out the red carpet for him either. Chris wasn’t terribly surprised, but was a little disappointed as he had built up a slightly elaborate scene in his head during the long drive back from the university.

It was getting late when Chris pulled up to his house. The driveway was clear, and an open garage showed Dad’s car to be missing. No surprise there, really; Chris’s father was the head of the ER department at the local hospital. His work and sleep schedule was often erratic to say the least.

Chris could tell that the lights were on, and that Roxanne, his step-mother, was home. This was indicated by her signature red mini-van aka. “The Mom Mobile” that she drove her children, Chris’s half sisters around in. Barring some end-of-school slumber party, the girls would be home too.

As Chris walked into the big two-story house, his senses came alive with the remembered nostlgia of his childhood. The laundry room, which was next to the garage, smelled always of clean smelling detergent. The room hummed and buzzed as the washer and dryer did their work; never able to truly rest as the entire family was constantly putting them to use. Chris wasted no time unpacking his suitcase filled with dirty clothes and dumping it into the laundry basket to be washed later.

He walked from the laundry room and cautiously poked his head out into the main living room of the house, as if expecting to be ambushed. “Hello?”, Chris called out, “I’m home.” Chris braced himself. The last few times he had been home, his little sisters had practically tackled him. Tonight, the girls barely looked up from what they were doing.

“Heeeeeey.” They lazily sang out in unison without making eye contact.

“Welcome back,” the older of his too sisters, Samantha, added on. If Chris’s memory was correct, Samantha had just finished 5th grade. Like her mother, Sammy had a track star’s build and blonde hair. Since puberty hadn’t quite set in yet though, (thank God for that, nothing makes you feel older than the thought of your baby sisters actually growing up), Sammy was still very much a bean pole.

The house was more or less designed as a large common area with closed off bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs and along the periphery. All that separated most of the main rooms were large arcways that likely did a better job of symbolising that you were in another area of the house than actually separating the rooms off. Thus, from the family room, Chris could clearly see that Sammy was sitting at the dinner table, reading a book while listening to (if instagram could be trusted) One Direction on her iPod.

Brianna on the other hand, was plopped on the couch, her tongue poking out a bit as she was engrossed in a Mario game for the Wii. Like Chris and their father, Bri’s hair was less blonde and more of a dark chestnut. In the right light, it might even pass for black. Unlike her sister, Bri had yet to lose her baby fat, but didn’t seem too concerned one way or the other.

In fact, just by looking at them, or seeing them behave, you might not know they were related. Sammy was becoming a bit of a girly girl, and had begun to beg her mother to take her shopping for some real makeup; while Bri was becoming both a Tomboy and a bit of an oddball. Chris couln’t think of the last time Bri was in a dress, and even though she’d be going into fourth grade this fall, she still had the habbit of shouting gibberish in squeaky voices for no other reason than it amused her.

She had obviously not grown out of this, yet, as she started to berate a group of green turtles on the video screen. “Stooopid toota foota boo boo caca!” she whooped and half yelled as her Mario jumped on their backs.

“Brianna,” a tired voice called out, “would you please stop yelling at the T.V. screen? Mommy is starting to get a headache.” Roxanne, walked in. “Oh, hey Chris,” she said pleasantly, “you’re here a little earlier than I expected. I figured you wouldn’t have arrived till late when everyone was asleep.”

“Yeah,” Chris said, stretching a little, “I guess I burned rubber getting here. Dad at work?”

“Yeah,” Roxanne yawned as she ran a hand through her curly blonde locks, “he’ll be back late tonight and should be up and about by lunch. We just finished dinner, but there’s plenty in the fridge, help yourself.” she gestured over to the kitchen area. “Sorry I’m so tired,” she added, “I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.” Chris nodded knowinglyl and walked over to the fridge.

At age 40, Roxanne Cole was a trophy wife that hadn’t yet lost all of her sheen. Chris’s father married her about a year after Cole’s mother’s death. It was a little soon for Chris, but he wanted his dad to be happy. The birth of Samantha “Sammy” Cole relatively soon after lead Chris to believe that maybe Dad had forgotten how to use a condom, which led to wedding bells.

Still, Roxanne was a pretty cool person, and a decent step-mom to Chris. She had never played the “you can call me mom if you want” card, which is good since it would have blown up in her face. Instead, she had just been another adult, and a friendly one at that. As he had gotten older, she had treated him more and more as an equal and as a friend; especially since he had gone off to college.

Still, Chris always felt a little tense around Roxanne; not out of resentment, but out of guilt. Let’s just say that Christopher and his father had similar taste in women. Combine that with his emerging fetish growing up and the fact that Roxanne wasn’t his real mother- thus making the idea seem less gross- gave Chris more than a bit of an Oedipal complex.

It got a lot easier as he entered high school and girls his own age started becoming attractive. Sherry alone counted for more old socks being defiled than he could count. It also didn’t hurt that the girls were growing up, and so the sounds of Roxanne’s coos and baby-talk had stopped ringing in Chris’s ears; though for some reason Roxanne had never fully made the transition from calling herself “Mommy” to just “Mom”.

But that didn’t change the fact that Chris’s first few remembered wet dreams were basically memories of Roxanne mothering his then baby sisters, only with the girls completely edited out and him taking their place. Pink nurseries would become blue, add in some half-remembered motherese replacing all instances of names with his own, and BAM! Instant wet dream.

Chris made himself a sandwhich and sat down at the dinner table, munching on ham and cheese while Samantha continued reading her book. He was polite enough to ask what she was reading, but didn’t really see the appeal. It was something about a bunch of cats that lived in the forest and talked to their ancestors while fighting other cats or something. Silly stuff. Then again, when he was Sammy’s age, he read a book series about kids who turned into animals to fight off a secret alien invasion. So who was he to judge.

After giving him a ramshackle description of the book, Sammy went back to listening to boy bands on her iPod and happily ignored him. God, she was turning into such a tween. Chris chuckled to himself as he felt sorry for what Roxanne was likely to endure in the coming years.

Brianna, perhaps uncharacteristically invited Chris to play the Mario game with her. This newest version had a co-op mode where Mario and Luigi could be on the screen at the same time. Unfortunately, characters could also pick each other up and throw on another. Bri seemed to enjoy picking up Chris’s Luigi and throwing him off a cliff rather than play the game as intended. Worse yet, Chris couldn’t figure out how to retaliate and Bri just laughed at his cries of “No fair!” and “Stop!”

“Oh, you like laughing, do ya?” Chris finally said as he set his controller down. He flashed an evil smile that Tom reserved for Jerry, and in his most over the top delivery he shouted, “WELL WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?!” He then proceeded to pin his youngest sister down to the couch and tickle her as she squirmed. Her cries for help from her older sister went unheeded. Sammy had faced the tickle monster’s wrath one time too many times and her developing tween coolness wouldn’t allow her to debase herself, besides.

Finally, Roxanne’s headache broke the laughing massacre up, and Chris relented. Then with a shit eating grin that Jerry reserved for Tom, Bri held up the Wii remote and asked “Wanna play some more?” Chris only shook his head. Bri always has been a button pusher, even knowing she’ll be on the losing end.

Chris walked by the hot pink room that was Sammy’s, and the almost neon green room that was Bri’s, before going up the stairs to his own room. “Oh, just so you know,” Roxanne called after him, “I cleaned out the attic a few weeks ago, and I found some of your old toys. I didn’t know if you wanted to keep them for old time’s sake, or what so I just put them up in your room.”

“Kay!” Chris called down as he continued climbing the stairs into his old room. With the exception of being much tidier, it was exactly as he had left it; a veritable time capsule of his high school years. Posters of bands that were now defunct were on the walls, his bed was in the corner, and his trophy case with various awards that he had earned since grade school adorned the far wall.

Most importantly though, undisturbed, was his old desktop. He turned it on, and signed on to google mail instantly. Just as planned, and promised, Sherry was there waiting for him. He messaged her.

Colev4.0: I’m home
SunnySher: Yay! Me too!
Colev4.0: How long you been home?
SunnySher: Couple hours. But just got on.
SunnySher: Figured I’d beat ya.
Colev4.0: Well you did.
Colev4.0: How were your finals?
SunnySher: Good enough. You?
Colev4.0: Brutal. But done with.
SunnySher: Good.
Cole4.0: Wanna go out tonight?
SunnySher: Can’t.
SunnySher: Mom and dad want to spend some quality time.
Cole4.0: Oh
SunnySher: Tomorrow?
Cole4.0: Sure! What time?
SunnySher: How about 6:00?
Cole4.0: Deal.
SunnySher: BTW. Tried to call you today. Charge your damn phone! :slight_smile:
Cole4.0: Have to unpack it first. Might have left it at school.
SunnySher: :frowning:
Cole4.0: Don’t worry, we’ll see each other enough that we won’t need phones.
SunnySher: Promise?
Cole4.0: Promise. See you tomorrow?
SunnySher: Promise.
Cole4.0: Ok then. I’ll pick you up at 6:00. I’m gonna go to bed, now.
Cole4.0: Feeling sheepy
Cole4.0 *sleepy
SunnySher: Ok. Night, babe! Love you!
Cole4.0: Love you too!

His date set up for tomorrow, and feeling genuinely tired from all the driving, Chris logged off and walked over to his bed. Sure enough, an old friend was besides his pillow, waiting for him. Wubby, his stuffed teddy bear, sat up looking at him, plaintively, as if to say “You’re back, please love me.” Chris hadn’t seen the old brown bear in years, and had assumed him lost to the ravages of time. He picked the bear up and turned it over in his hands.

It had the same well worn stitching, the same fluff stufing on the inside that didn’t quite puff anymore, and the same off-colored stains where the poor thing had been dropped in the mud more than a few times. Wubby was just as Chris had always remembered him. Chris had had Wubby since as far back as he could remembered.

Wubby had originally been a gift from his mother that he had stubbornly clung too after she had died. Even after he had gotten over his mother’s death, Wubby retained a place of prominence in Chris’s room for years. Even Chris’s friends didn’t give him guff about keeping a stuffed animal well into high school. They understood the sentimental value; and it’s not like Chris had taken to carrying it around everywhere like Linus and his blanket. But somehow, the poor thing just seemed to vanish one day while Chris was at school, and Chris had long ago given up looking for it. This was indeed a welcome surprise.

One thing did stand out about Wubby, though; his eyes. Chris could have sworn that they were ordinary black bead eyes, but now looking at them they seemed difference. The left eye was a bright red, and the right eye was an equally bright blue. It was like Wubby’s eyes had been replaced with those old fashioned 3-D glasses from the 1950’s. They seemed to glitter a bit too, almost like gems. Still, it wasn’t nearly enough to throw the bear’s identity into qustion. This was Wubby alright.

Chris looked to the left, and right conspiratorially, as if there might be hidden cameras in his old room. He locked the door, just in case. He stripped his clothes off and threw back the sheets to his bed before climbing in. Just because he wasn’t going to be in diapers for the next couple of months, doesn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy and relax while doing other babyish things. With that thought, he cuddled his old friend, Wubby the bear, under one arm, while popping a thumb in his mouth with the other. He sucked on his thumb idly as unconsciousness claimed him.

Re: College or Cribs

Chapter 2: Baby’s Room

As the first rays of sunlight hit Christopher Cole IV’s face, Chris became aware of two things. The first being that his thumb was still in his mouth. That was a little weird, since Chris had never slept so soundly before. The second thing Chris noticed was the not altogether unfamiliar sensation of a wet diaper.

Chris had been in the process of “diaper training” himself, by getting used to sitting and even sleeping in wet diapers. While he by no means wanted to become incontinent, he….

Wait. Just. A. God. Damn. Minute.

Chris’s eyes shot open in realization, interrupting his own inner monologue. He shouldn’t be in a diaper! Not here! Not now!. His peripheral vision immedately picked up the wooden bars. He was in a giant crib. Lifting his head up, he could tell he was wearing a yellow T-shirt and a diaper. Wubby sat at the foot of the crib.

Chris sat up, findding it more difficult than he expected, using the bars of the crib to help himself up into a sitting position. The sheets had teddy bear prints on them, and Chris heard and felt the smooth ruffling and crinkling sound of the plastic sheet underneath.

He scanned the walls beyond the bars. The crib he was in was up against the wall farthest from the door. The wall to his right had a large sliding closet door, which was shut at the moment. At the far corner, next to the closet was what was unmistakenly a changing table, only much bigger, with a diaper genie displayed prominently next to it. Across from the changing table was a rather large rocking chair. The walls themselves were painted baby blue with bunnies stenciled in around the top edge.

Chris had gone to sleep in his old room. practically naked, and woken up in an oversized nursery. Chris’s heart began to beat faster and faster, with a combinatin of excitement and panic. It was like the beginning of so many stories that he read online; the ones where some psycho couple kidnaps the main character and decides to make the him or her the new baby. Those things weren’t based on true stories were they?!

Chris shifted to his knees and tried to pull himself up to a standing position. He grabbed the railing of the crib and heaved himself up. Then he experimentally let go. He kept his balance for a moment, then suddenly his legs went all Bambi on him and he started to weeble and wobble on the mattress before falling down on his rump.

Once again, he felt the squish of wet diaper between his legs. This prompted him to look down and examine the infantile garment he had woken up in. It had two tabs, one on each side. The texture was definitely that fake cloth texture, instead of the pure plastic backing that so many AB’s preferred. The decorations were….

Holy. Shit.

Chris’s mouth dropped open. Looking down at the waistband of the diaper, Chris realized that he was looking at Elmo. Not just any Elmo; not the guy who sang “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reigndeer” Elmo; THE Elmo. This was the Sesame-Street-let’s-learn-to-count-and-say-letters Elmo. Motherfucking Elmo! No Adult Baby diaper would have Elmo on it; they couldn’t get away with it- Proctor & Gamble AND the Jim Henson estate would have a field day.

Chris picked at the waist band a little bit. Maybe the image was taped on or something. That’s when Chris noticed that right by Elmo was the signature teal oval with stylized white print, with a little yellow heart over it. For some reason, Chris couldn’t quite make out the writing, but he didn’t need to. Just like how any fat kid knows that Golden Arches and big yellow “M” mean McDonald’s, a guy who has obsessed over infancy for most of his life recognizes the Pampers logo when he sees it.

Chris’s heart leapt into overdrive. He was wearing a giant adult sized replica of a Pampers diaper. It was like the beginning of some of the good stories that he read online. There’s no possible way this could be real. He took a quick survey of the room and his spatial sense kicked in. This room seemed vaguely familiar; how everything was laid out, and how big the room out. Then Chris realized: This was Brianna’s room.

Specifically this was his youngest sister’s room circa age zero to about age two and a half. The crib, the rocking chair, all of it was arranged just as it was when Bri was a baby; only now the color scheme was changed to accomodate a baby boy, and the furniture was enlarged to accomodate him. A smile spread across his face as the realization set in.

He was having a wet dream, again. Cleary his subconscious not wanting to go on infantilism abstinence for the summer combined with the old adolescent fantasies that seeing Roxanne stirred up, and now he was experiencing the result; the fantastic fantastic result!

So what do you do when you’re stuck in a dream that you honestly don’t want to get out of? You go with it, duh!

Chris reached over and grabbed Wubby from the foot of the crib and then laid back down. He idly kicked his legs in the air and maid gurgling and cooing sounds, doing his best to sound cute while he turned the old teddy bear in his hands. Chris smiled a little as he inspected Wubby’s eyes. In his dream at least, Wubby’s eyes were the same black beads that Chris had always remembered. Chris briefly considered drooling or teething on Wubby as any baby might do to their stuffed animals, but decided that the old boy had had it rough enough through the years.

That’s when Chris heard footsteps coming. This was gonna be good! The door softly opened and in stepped Roxanne, her curly blonde locks glistening in the morning sun. She was clad in a light purple terrycloth bathrobe, and while Chris would have preffered the silk nightie that he had purposefully pictured her in many times before, one couldn’t be too picky about what your subconscious handed you.

“Good mornging!” Roxanne cooed as she stepped in. Knowing this was a dream, Chris resisted the urge to cover himself and continued to idly kick his legs and cuddle with his beloved teddy. “It looks like someone is already up and awake!” Roxanne practically sung as she peered down on him lying in the crib. Chris looked into her eyes and couldn’t help but smile. There was more than friendship in those eyes, there was love, the kind of measureless love that only a mother can have for her child. Her smile told him that he was the center of her whole world.

“Ready to get up?” she asked, though her tone implied she didn’t truly expect an answer. Chris put down his teddy bear and held his arms up to reach for her. Roxanne, or rather Dream Roxanne needed no further cues. She lowered the railing of the crib, and with impossible ease picked Chris up, and rested him on her hip.

This close up, he could smell that her hair smelled of jasmine, and he breathed it in, savoring the Aroma. Damn, his dad had great taste in women. He absently hoped that if he and Sherry managed to stay together, she’d age as well as Roxanne had. Roxanne just giggled and rubbed her nose against his. Eskimo kisses. Even through the wet diaper, Chris could feel himself pressed up against her and was enthralled. He briefly considered pressing harder, but he through that thought away. He didn’t want to get too adult in this adult baby fantasy his brain had concocted for him.

“Let’s get my baby boy dressed and ready,” Roxanne declared, as she made a bee line for the oversized changing table. Chris put up no struggle as Roxanne laid him down on the rubbery mat and pulled a strap across his tummy. His breathing became shallow with excitement as Roxanne’s fingers went for the velcro tapes on the diaper.

“Scritch.” “Scritch.”

The tapes were off, and the smell of urine wafted into the air as Roxanne pulled back the front of the diaper and Chris felt a definite breeze as his genitals were exposed to open air. Chris looked at his naked crotch. Hairless. Nice touch, subconscious. Very babyish.

Chris’s eyes practically rolled back into his head as Roxanne began to gently caress and wipe his most private and sensitive of areas. The coolness of the baby wipes on his crotch felt so real that for a second Chris mildly questioned if he was dreaming or not.

Then again, if this were real, he’d probably be too nervous to enjoy it. He’d be too worried that his little sisters, or worse yet his father would walk in or find out. Now THAT would be a talk. Knowing the impossibility of that, Chris decided to put it out of his head and enjoy his pampering.Pun intended.

After his front side had been wiped clean, Roxanne crossed Chris’s ankles over each other and lifted his legs up into the air by pushing up the back of the bottom heel. Chris felt Roxanne gently begin to wipe his backside; first his hole, then the crack of his ass, then each cheek.

“No poopies,” Roxanne commented as she sanitized her step-son’s crevasse. “Oh well, maybe later after you get some num-nums in your tum-tums”. Then Roxanne pulled the used diaper out from under him, and skillfully balled it up with one hand before setting Chris’s legs down and tossing it into the nearby diaper genie.

She then reached onto a shelf below Chris, and pulled out a fresh diaper and unfolded it. Then, just as quickly as she had slid the old one out, Roxanne picked Chris’s legs up and slid the new one under him. She wasn’t done yet though. Chris could see her take out a bottle of baby powder and felt it as she sprinkled it on him; first his bum, then his crotch. Roxanne even smoothed it out and massaged it in with her hand, caressing his backside and genitals.

This was heaven. Plain and simple.

Chris fought the urge to have his eyes roll back in his head from ecstasy, instead focusing on the minute details. He would definitely have to remember this dream for later and replay it when he had some private time alone for one of his ahem daydreams.

He focused on the feeling as Roxanne pulled the fresh diaper up between his legs, listening to the soft crinkle of diaper as she adjusted it over his hips. He felt the diaper become snug yet comfortable as Roxanne taped up one side, then the other. He looked down at the fresh diaper and saw that Grover was now decorating the waistband. While Chris would have preferred Cookie Monster or at least Big Bird, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Besides, he could always edit that in in future replays.

“All clean!” Roxanne announced as if someone needed confirmation. “Now let’s get you dressed for the day.” Roxanne turned to face the closet, leaving Chris strapped to the table. With the closet door opened, Chris craned his neck to see that the closet was packed with large versions of baby clothes with cute little designs on them, as well as a box or two of Pampers.

Roxanne brought a gray pair of shorts with an elastic waistband over to the changing table and slid them up Chris’s legs and shimmied them up his hips. The leggings didn’t even cover his knees, and even though you could only see the top edge of the diaper, the tell-tale bulge below the waist did nothing to hide what Chris’s undergarment was.

This was a little strange, Chris thought as Roxanne unfastened the strap and helped him sit up. Normally, when Chris fantasized about these sort of things, he pictured the diaper in plain view; or at the very least, he’d be wearing a onesie. Sure, lots of parents dressed their kids in shorts, but shorts in of themselves weren’t very babyish. Rocking the Baby Huey look or at least a onesie though….

“Arms up!” Roxanne broke Chris out of his own thoughts. “Arms up! Like this, sweety!” Chris shook from his reverie and did as he was told, almost on reflex. Roxanne pulled the yellow t-shirt off of him. “That’s my big boy!” she praised him, as she pulled a new red T-shirt with a little bumble bee stitched over the heart over him.

That was weird too. Being called a “big boy”, when he was clearly supposed to be a baby in this dream had been unexpected. Yeah, parents totally called their young children “big” as a means to encourage them to develop and behave, but it was throwing off his mojo.

This dream version of Roxanne paid no mind to Chris’s thoughts though, as she picked him up off the changing table and walked over to the rocking chair. She cradled him in her arms, and the chair was big enough to accomodate the both of them. She rocked back and forth for a moment, stroking his hair. Then she pulled back a side of her robe, revealing a naked breast.

“Let’s get you some milk,” Roxanne told him. Chris knew what was coming next, and he didn’t fight it. Gently, she guided his head to her bosom, and gently he took a few tentative sucks at her teat. Then the milk began to flow. Rich and creamy, and better than he could have imagined, it came out of her and went into his mouth. Slowly, he suckled, trying to savor the taste, and the sensation.

“Good boy,” Roxanne whispered and cooed as she petted the back of his head, gently stroking his hair. “You’re such a good eater. Yes you are! Yes you are!” Chris continued suckling on the sweet mothers milk, getting lost in the sensation.

Chris wondered how much longer this would last. Normally he’d have woken up by now, have either ejaculated or with a raging hard on at the very least. But he was in no hurry for this little fantasy to end.

“Easy there, baby,” Roxanne said. “Don’t get your tummy too full. We still gotta get some solids in you.” Just then there was a knocking at the door.

“Mom? Are you in there?” Chis heard the unmistakable voice of his sister Samantha call out. Chris stopped suckling and pulled away from Roxanne’s breast. What the hell was Sammy doing in HIS fantasy dream?!

“All done?” Roxanne whispered to Chris, as she covered herself. “Come in,” she called out in her voice reserved for people who could understand her. The door flung open and in stepped Samantha, a blonde bean pole in GAP clothing.

“Sammygetoutthisisn’twhatitlookslike!” Chris yelped to his sister while still sitting in his step-mother’s lap.

“Hi Chris.” Sammy waved and smiled before making eye contact with her mother. “So Mom,” she began as she started rocking on her heels, “I was wondering.”

“Yes?”, Roxanne said, waiting for her eldest daughter to go on.

“I JUST finished reading the last of my Warrior books,” Samantha continued, “and I was wondering if we could go to the library sometime today so that I can get another one?”

A wry smile crossed Roxanne’s lips. “Am I to assume that you’d prefer to go sooner as opposed to later?” she asked.

“Maybe…”, Samantha smiled and bit her lip.

“Is this why you’re already dressed up and out of your pajamas already?” Roxanne pressed.

Sammy stopped rocking on her heels and launched into an all out offensive. “It’s just that Dad’s asleep, and I know we won’t have time after he gets up cuz we’re having lunch with him and then doing family things all day, and I figured you’d want me to be reading during the summer anyways since I’m not in school and I figured I figured I figured-” Roxanne held up her free hand while holding Chris with the other.

“Have you even had breakfast yet?” Roxanne asked seriously.

“No,” came back her daughter’s sullen reply.

Roxanne took a deep breath and exhaled. “Go get some breakfast, and give me time to feed your brother and get dressed. THEN I’ll take you to the library.”

“Okay!” Samantha squeed, as she did a little hop. “Love you, Mom!” she added as she quickly reached around Chris and gave her mother a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. “Love you too, Chris!” she added. “Kissies!” she cooed as she gave her big brother a peck on the lips, adding “Mwah!” for effect.

“Tell Bri, too! See if she wants to go.” Roxanne called after Sammy as the girl practically pranced out of the room and presumably to the kitchen.

“Kay kay!” Samantha’s voiced echoed back.

Chris had sat dumbfounded through the whole exchange between his two family members. Samantha didn’t seem at all disturbed or even surprised when she had seen her big brother, back home from college, in a baby’s room, sitting in Roxanne’s lap. She barely acknowledged him, and talked over him, too.

Dream or not, either of his two sisters walking in on him diapered and breastfeeding from his step-mom would have resulted in either an immediate return to consciousness, or it turning into a nightmare of accusations and all the uncomfortable questions that he had hoped never to be asked by a family member.

Instead, all he got was being witness to his sister asking to go to the library after breakfast.

THE FUCK KIND OF DREAM WAS THIS?!

And then a disturbing thought crossed his mind: Was it?

Re: College or Cribs

Chapter 3: Breakfast and a car ride.

“I don’t believe this,” Chris muttered to himself as Roxanne rose from the rocking chair, taking her 20 year old step-son with her on her hip as though he were all but weightless. “This can’t possibly be happening.”

“Roxanne, put me down, please,” Chris said as he was carried out of what had at one point been his youngest sister’s room.

“I knoooow, right?” Roxanne replied. “Your sissie is so silly sometimes, isn’t she?” Going out of the nursery and into the kitchen area, Chris could see Samantha at the dinner table, wolfing down a bowl of Cheerios. Chris thought about some of the smut he had read over the years, and considered how it might be having an effect on him.

“Roxanne,” Chris said experimentally, “you can’t understand a word I’m saying, can you?”

“Uh-huh”, Roxanne nodded, “she’s VERY excited to go to the library. Yes she is! Yes she is!”

“Mooooom!” Sammy complained from the table, her bowl of cereal nearly consumed in record time. “I’m right here, you know! You don’t have to talk over me like I can’t understand you.” Oh the irony of that statment. Oh the irony.

Chris found himself placed in and then secured into what had to be the world’s biggest highchair, before the tray was clicked in place. Roxanne moved around him and started fastening a bib on him. From his new position, he could see out into the living room and see that Brianna was keeping time to and copying some dancing manakin on another Wii game of hers. “Call Me Maybe” blared.

“Bri, could you turn the volume down, sweetie?”, Roxanne called out plaintively. “It’s still a little early for Mommy, and your father is still sleeping.” A serires of growls and grunts was the reply, but the volume went down.

“You know, Roxanne,” Chris said, gritting his teeth and taking a deep breath. “You are quite the whore.” He immediately flinched expecting to be smacked across his face. Nothing. Roxanne just moved around the high chair and went to the kitchen cabinet. “After you had sanitized my crotch,” Chris pressed onward, “you really should have opened that big prostitute mouth of yours and sucked my throbbing member.”

“I know, I know,” Roxanne said as she got out a rather large jar of what had to have been babyfood. “Be patient, and Mommy will get you some num-nums.” A devilish smile spread across Chris’s face. This totally had to be a dream. It just had to be. Only in a dream could Chris be more coherent than Brianna, this be the result. Regardless, fun possibilities now presented themselves. Oh, what fun he could have.

Roxanne poured a grainy substance from the jar and into a bowl and took a baby bottle out from the fridge. She mixed in some milk and stirred it around and around till the stuff had a mushy consistency. Chris deduced that it was baby cereal. aka pablum.

“Mommy?” Samantha asked, bringing her now empty bowl into the kitchen and dumping it in the sink. “Can I help feed Chris? That way, you can get dressed.” Samantha stared at her mother with puppy dog eyes.

“That’d be a great help, honey,” Roxanne said, handing the bowl of mush to her eldest daughter before walking away.

“Ahh the wonderful transparent selfishness of youth,” Chris waxed philisophical from the high chair. “Always willing to helpl out…if there’s something in it for them.” He was about to say more, till a large plastic spoon, held by Samantha, rocketed toward his face.

“Open up, Chris!” Sammy coaxed. The spoon full of pablum was hovering centimeters from his lips. “Come on. Just a little bit for Sammy.” Chris cocked his head to the side. He was actually hungry. The breast milk had jumpstarted his stomach, and now he was actually hungry.

“Well fine,” Chris conceded. “Fine Sammy, you can fee-” WHOOMF! Sammy plunged the spoon full of pablum. Chris almost gagged at the intrustion, and spit out the bland tasting glop as soon as it registered. The taste wasn’t that bad- it was pretty much just bread in a blender- it was that the intrustion by the spoon had been a little sudden and WAY too deep. Sammy had practically tickled his tonsils. The pablum spilled out of his mouth and harmlesly onto the bib that Roxanne had tied around him.

“Come on, eat up!” Sammmy coaxed, obvlivious to Chris’s discomfort.

“Roxanne told you to feed me,” Chris countered, “not waterboa-” WHOOMF! Another spoonful of the stuff snuck in as Chris was snarking out. Oh yeah. He was the baby here. They couldn’t understand him. Hey! He was the baby here! He wasn’t expected to be completely understandable! He could be fussy! He could be difficult! He could be….a brat. A wry smile crossed his lips.

Once the spoon was out. Chris swallowed the pablum and then closed his mouth tightly. Sammy tried to slide another spoonful of pablum in, but Chris had formed a tight seal around his mouth. A thin film of liquid bread was all that managed to touch his lips.

“Oh, please don’t do this right now, Chris.” Sammy pleaded. “Pleeeeease!” Chis shook his head. “Pretty please?” she pressed. Chris still shook his head. “Not even for me?” she tried the puppy dog eyes. That barely worked on him when he was the big brother. No chance now that he was the baby.

MWUAHAHAHAHA!

‘Burst your way into my infantilist fantasy, will you?!’ Chris thought to himself. ‘Behold and fear my power! Fear it!’

Unfortunately, Samantha couldn’t hear his thoughts any more than she could understand his words. “Briiii!” Samantha called out into the living room.

“Whaaaaaat?!” Brianna called back.

“Chris won’t let me feed him, again!” Samantha whined.

“Sooooo?” Bri’s voice echoed in reply.

“I don’t get to go to the library till he’s done eating!” Samantha continued to whine. “Will you help, please?”

There was a pause, then a brief silence as the Wii’s endless dancing game was turned off.

“Okiedokiefenokie!” Bri said in a fake silly voice that sounded like Kermit the Frog’s and a Alvin of the Chipmunk’s bastard love baby. Chris’s pudgy little sister speed shuffled into the kitchen, still in her jammies. “Whaaaaaat?” she asked Samantha in the same silly voice.

“Heeeeeeelp….” Sammy echoed back in her own indignant tone, pointing to their babified older brother. Brianna took a step back and put her hand to her chin, eyeing Chris from head to toe. Then her gaze stopped at his feet. Then she interlaced her fingers and cracked them all at once as she stretched out her arms. Wordlessly Brianna dropped to the linoleum floor and crawled under Chris’s dangling feet.

“This won’t end well.” Chris muttered to himself. Then Chris felt Brianna’s pudgy little fingers beging to dance across the bare soles of his feet; soles that were for some reason no longer calloused by years of walking.

“Hmmmph!” Chris’s cheeks puffed out as he tried to contain the laughter. “MMmmmmph!”

“Keep going,” Sammy encouraged her little sister. “It’s working!”

He feebly kicked his legs and tried to swat away his tickling attacker, but it was to no avail. He couldn’t get any leverage from his position in the high chair, and the tray prevented him from reaching down and swatting Brianna’s hands away. Chris tried to hold his laughter in, with all of his might, but inevitably-

“BWAHAH-” WHOOMF! Another spoonful of baby cereal made its way into Chris’s gullet. Out of breath from laughter and trying not to gag, Chris swallowed the stuff and puffed out and in big gusts of air through his mouth. WHOOMF! He had barely gotten in another breath when ANOTHER giant spoonful of mush entered his mouth. Then another. Then another.

Chris held up his hands infront of the spoon and turned his head to the side. Samantha hesitated, her pablum onslaught briefly halted. “Okay.” Chris huffed and puffed. “Okay. You win. I’ll eat.” He then opened his mouth big and wide and allowed Samantha to gently spoon the bland mush in. Apparently, “I give up…mercy please,” transcended language barriers.

“Okay, Bri,” Samantha said, “I think I’ve got it under control now. Now go get dressed,” she nagged, “Mom’s not gonna leave you here by yourself with Dad sleeping.” Chris could hear Bri’s exaggerated mumble grumble as she crawled out from under his feet and trotted off. Chris only had to endure Samantha’s force spoon feeding for a few minutes more once he decided to cooperate. He was able to use his tongue as a blocker for his throat so he didn’t gag everytime the spoon went in too deep. Was this how spoon feeding real babies felt? Chris hoped not.

Finally, Roxanne returned to the kitchen area, fully dressed in a lime green tanktop, blue jeans, and white tennis shoes.

“Everything go okay?” Roxanne asked Samantha, once again ignoring the person not expected to talk.

“Yup. All fed.” Samantha replied. Still a little flustered, Chris was greatful that Sammy hadn’t turned around and cooed for confirmation ala “Isn’t that right?! Isn’t it?”

“Ready to go?” Roxanne inquired.

Samantha smiled a big toothy grin and nodded her head enthusiastically. Then she stopped and rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah….Bri’s still getting dressed.”

“Well in the meantime,” Roxanne asked, "could you please go get the diaper bag and tell your sister to meet us at the car. I’ll go get your brother strapped in and ready to go.

“Kay kay”, Samantha answered and then rushed out of sight. Roxanne turned to Chris and slid the tray off.

“Let’s get you in the car!” Chris’s step-mother announced as she undid the bib, unfastened the harness in the high-chair and picked him up as easily as one could pick up…well, a baby. Chris felt like he had little choice as Roxanne toted him through the laundry room and into the garage. Out of the corner of his eye, Chris noticed a laundry basked filled with rumpled up oversized baby clothes waiting to be washed: Onesies, rompers, some footy pajamas, at least two pair of shortalls, baby t-shirts, and a bevy of pants and shorts with button snaps and elastic waistbands. And they were all in the very same basket that Chris had dumped his clothes in last night.

With giant infant in tow, Roxanne deftly moved into the garage towards the red mini-van that was the “Mom-Mobile.” With one hand she supported Chris by his rump and slid open the side door with her free hand. Right in front of him, Chris staired at the “baby seat.”

The damn thing was huge! It looked more like the safety harness on a modern day roller coaster. Speaking of which, Chris felt particularly helpless and flung through the air as Roxanne easily swooped him in through the side door and plopped him down into the thing.

With practiced swiftness and dexterity, Roxanne strapped Chris into the baby seat and Chris found himself snugly tucked in. Just like a trip to six flags, Chris’s torso would be completely immobilized for the duration of the ride. More importantly though, Roxanne had strapped him in so fast, that he couldn’t make out the release mechanism. It was definitely more complicated than pressing the big red button, Chris quickly discovered. Great…he wanted to be a doctor but was being restrained by child-proofed safety belts.

Less than a minute later, Chris and Roxanne were joined by his sisters. Samantha sat shotgun up front with her mother, while Brianna slid past Chris and pulled a seatbelt over lap in the back.

“Diaper bag?” Roxanne looked to Samantha.

“Got it,” Samantha replied, as she slid a large aquamarine bag off her shoulder and onto the floor of the van. Then without another word, the Mom-Mobile backed out of the garage, and drove out onto the open road towards the driveway.

Chris sat lost in his baby seat lost in thought. He had been delighted when he “woke up”, and realized he’d been having his fantasy. The intimate moments with Roxanne had been pure decadence. He’d been thrown off in a big way when the scenario had thrown his sisters into the mix. He totally didn’t expect for everything to remain this coherent through “breakfast” and now he was on a car trip in a baby-seat.

Granted, it wasn’t what he would have intended if he were in full control of this fantasy, but wasn’t letting go of control at least partly what his fetish was about? The high chair incident had been a little annoying, and his little sisters- or big sisters in this case- had ganged up on him, but they weren’t malicious about it. If anything it was the same kind of manhandling and playing that he had done with them.

He was really getting his mileage out of this thing, no pun intended, and was beginning to wonder when he’d finally wake up. His reverie was interrupted once again though, this time by a feeling in his gut. Uh-oh. Big uh-oh.

“Uh…guys. Guys?” Chris spoke up. “I’m feeling a little gassy over here. And it might be more than that, if you know what I mean.” He could feel pressure building inside of him. “Seriously. Seriously.”

“Something wrong, Chris?” Roxanne asked, her concern showing in the rear-view mirror. Chris began clutching his stomach. A grunt of pain escaped his lips.

“I think he’s starting to…you know.” Samantha answered her mother.

“POOPY!” Bri declared as she scooted as far away from Chris as the confines of the van would allow her.

“Oh yeah, like you didn’t do the exact same thing when you were his age,” Sammy scolded her sister.

“He hadn’t gone yet when I changed him this morning,” Roxanne remarked, “eating breakfast must have kick started his digestive system.” Chris clenched his butt cheeks together as the pain and pressure built.

“Poopy pants!” Brianna giggled, while wrinkling her nose.

“Gosh Bri, you are so immature!” Sammy turned around to look at them. “Babies poop their pants. You did it, I did it, we ALL did it!” She turned to Chris and cooed, “Isn’t that right, bubby?”
The pain in Chris’s gut was starting to crescendo. Oh God. Not here. Not now. Not like this. Chris had never dared to poop his diaper since he discovered the fetish. There were too many variables to clean up; the smell being one of them, and the mixed response in the online community wasn’t exactly encouraging.

“That’s right,” Roxanne agreed, “he’ll do his business, and then I’ll change him once we get to the library. Simple as that.”

Chris grunted in pain, as his body began to take over. He felt the first bit of a turtle head poking out of him. He sucked his lips inside of him and his eyes bulged out as he tried to will his sphincter into reverse.

“It’s okay,” Samantha cooed. “It’s okay. Just get it aaaaaallll out.”

As if on cue, the mess started to force its way out of Chris’s body and into the seat of his diaper. Instinct combined with a feeling of inevitability, and Chris stopped resisting and started to push harder. His fists balled up in stress and disgust as he felt the mess spread across his cheeks more and more with each push. Chris was sure this was nothing like putting oatmeal in his pants as many online had suggested.

Finally, after much much too long, he was finished, and felt a final skin crawling thlop as the last of his own excrement settled around in his diaper. Chris gasped and panted from embarrassment as the situation sank in like the soil in his pants: Christopher Cole IV, pre-med student, had just shit his pants right in front of his elementary school aged sisters.

Blushing redder than a rose, Chris dropped his head and did his best to avoid eye contact. Brianna had started to fake gag, and even Samantha who had defended his right to poop turned back around in her seat and let out a “Woooo” while waving her hand in front of her nose.

Roxanne made no complaint other than to blast the air conditioning full power in an attempt to mitigate the smell. “I seem to remember two little girls who didn’t exactly smell like roses themselves once upon a time.” Was all that Roxanne said. Bri abruptly stopped her fake heaving.

A few minutes later, the van pulled into a parking lot, and doors flung open with the two children bailing before the engine was turned off. Other cars were pulling in quickly, and parking beside them, with families getting out and walking towards the entrance. Apparently, the Public Library had its own niche among the youth to fill during the summer months.

Roxanne shouldered the diaper bag before walking around to Chris’s door and opening it.

“You two go on ahead,” she said, “I’ll meet up with you in the children’s section-”

“Ahem”, Samantha coughed looking indignant at her mother.

“The children and young adult’s section,” Roxanne corrected herself without missing a beat, “after I take care of Chris here.”

“Kay kay”, Samantha agreed. “Come on, Bri,” she motioned to her sister, as the two sprinted off towards the library entrance.

For his part, Chris had been pinching himself for roughly the last 5 minutes, trying to wake up. This was more than enough for one dream, and he was hoping to all that was holy that he hadn’t pooped the bed when he finally did wake up.

“Come on buddy,” Roxanne said sympathetically as she released Chris from his restraints, “let’s get you changed.” Chris let himself be picked up and hoisted into the air; Roxanne’s hand supporting him again and spreading the mess in the back of his pants further.

Chris gritted his teeth and made himself look forward to what was coming next. The girls were once again out of the picture, and Roxanne would soon give a repeat performance of earlier this morning. Sure, the handicap stall of a public bathroom wouldn’t be as intimate but-

The hatchback of the Mom-Mobile opened up. Roxanne sat down the diaper bag, and laid out a changing mat in the back. She laid Chris down on it, and his legs dangled over the edge and out into the open air. Roxanne pulled out a fresh diaper and a tub of wipes from the bag.

Chris’s eyes widened as he put the signs together. When Roxanne had said “after I take are of Chris here.” she had meant, “after I take care of Chris HERE.” Cars were still coming into the parking lot and Chris could see people walking by the van on the way to the front door.

“Nonononono!” Chris protested. “Not here. Not like this.” He tried to sit up, but found it more difficult than he expected. Roxanne gently pushed him back down. He grabbed at his shorts as Roxanne did, and got his hands slapped at as a reward.

“Quit squirming, baby, so I can change your diaper.” Roxanne gently commanded her infantilized step-son. She then gave him a gentle but firm stare that indicated she wasn’t playing. Chris sighed and put his hands down. No choice, it seemed. Might as well go with it.

Roxanne yanked Chris’s shorts down and had them off his legs in one fell swoop. Now every stranger walking bye could see he was diapered. Chris silently prayed that whatever mechanism kept his family from realizing how inappropriate this was worked on strangers too.

This change went very much like the first; and proved that the terms “thorough” and “slow” were a matter of context.

Roxanne ripped the tabs off the adult size Pampers, and exposed Chris’s privates to the open parking lot air. She lifted him up by his legs and used the inside front half of the diaper to wipe down the bulk of the mess that had clung to Christopher’s cheeks. She then folded up the front half, concealing the pile of stink. With great attention to detail-too much attention Chris thought as he cringed every time a person walked by- she cleaned him up. First she wiped the mess off his cheeks, then his crack, and finally his asshole.

She slid the soiled diaper completely out from under him and balled it and the used baby wipes up before letting the mass plop to the ground. Next, Roxanne unfolded and slid the fresh Pampers under Chris. Thankfully, Roxanne didn’t have any baby powder with her. Chris wanted this over and done with 5 minutes before it had happened.

Morbid curiosity caused Chris to crane his neck downward as Roxanne finished diapering him. Oscar the Grouch now adorned his crotch. Something was definitely fucking with him, he concluded grimly as Roxanne redressed him in his shorts.

She pulled out some hand sanitizer and rinsed her hands before she shouldered the diaper bag and picked up a flustered and highly embarrassed Chris. Chris buried his head into Roxanne’s shoulder, hoping no one would look at him as they entered the Library and walked toward the children’s section.

Re: College or Cribs

Chapter 4: Library.

Chris sulked in his step-mother’s arms. Despite being in a clean diaper, the recent memory of soiling himself and being changed in the parking lot had yet to fade away. The first diaper change this morning had been near heavenly, yet the second one - though near identical- had been amazingly awkward and embarrassing. Maybe because the first one had been expected as part of his fantasy, yet the second one hadn’t.

Granted, he expected to be changed after pooping his pampers, but the pooping itself had been unanticipated till it was too late to turn back. In front of his sisters, no less. Not for the first time, Chris wondered if this was a dream concocted by his imagination. He certainly didn’t beat off to his sisters, that’s for sure. Yet they were here, babying him right beside his step-mother.

The little hairs on the back of Chris’s neck stood on end as Roxanne carried him into the Library and the automatic doors whooshed open. Someone had turned the air all the way up, and the arid chill inside the building contrasted harshly with the humid heat outside. He shivered a little bit, and Roxanne gently rubbed his back.

Soon, Chris could see row after row after row of books. Hardly surprising, all things considered, but Chris half-way expected the books to be bigger too, so many other things were. Chris looked around as Roxanne carried him, looking for her daughters. She was moving too fast for Chris to pick out any of the individual books, but the posters of Babar and Curious George to his left and the cardboard cutouts of Edward Cullen and Boba Fett to his right told Chris that they were likely in the children to tween section of the library.

“Roxanne?” a voice called out. Roxanne stopped, and looked around. A woman in a pink Minnie-Mouse shirt, maybe a little younger than Roxanne, holding a little girl by the hand was walking towards them. The little girl wore a matching T-shirt. Oh God…she was one of THOSE moms.

“Oh my gosh, Barbara?” Roxanne replied in recognition.

" Hiiiiiiii!" both greeted in unison as they met.

“It’s been ages!” the other woman, Barbara exclaimed. Then Chris heard an audible gasp. “Roxanne? Is that Christopher?” Chris could feel his heart stop. Did whatever was making his family see him as a baby not afford him the same protection from strangers?

“Yes it is,” Roxanne nodded, oblivious to her friend’s gasp. “Getting big isn’t he?”

“Getting big?” Barbara’s voice echoed through Chris’s head. “He’s a grown ass man! Why are you holding him like a….is that a diaper he’s wearing? Oh my God Roxanne, you are sick. Sick!” That’s what Chris expected to hear.

What he heard instead come out of Barbara’s mouth was, “I know, right?! I almost didn’t recognize him!” Chris’s heart started back up.

“And Angela has gotten so big too!” Roxanne said, indicating the little girl beside Barbara. The little girl, waved shyly and then hid behind her mother.

“I know! Time just flies, doesn’t it?” Barbara remarked, “She starts Kindergarten next year. It seems like just yesterday she was just a baby.” The little girl peeked out from behind her mother, staring at Chris.

“Time does fly,” Roxanne confirmed. “Do you happen to know where my girls got off to?” she asked, changing the subject. “They bolted in here while I was changing Chris’s diaper.”

“ROXANNE!” Chris shrieked. “PRIVATE!” Why did people do that regarding young children? No one else needed to know that Chris had just recently used his pants as the ultimate porta-potty.

“Babies wear diapers,” the little girl, Angela, said solemnly. “They don’t how ta use the potty.” Chris couldn’t help but blush a little bit.

“That’s right, honey.” The girl’s mother praised. Then she leaned in close to Roxanne and whispered so that only Roxanne and Chris could hear. “She’s been a little obsessed with babies lately. I think she’s hinting that she wants a little brother or sister.” Both women laughed. Chris only rolled his eyes at how he was now practically invisible in conversation.

“Well, if you’re gonna have another,” Roxanne replied, “you might as well do it sooner than later. You don’t want to get out of practice.”

“Oh, I know.” Barbara agreed.

“Sammy wasn’t even all the way out of diapers when Bri came along, so the routine didn’t stop. Buuuut-” Roxanne playfully looked at her step-son on her hip. “-when Chris was born, I had gotten used to big kids, and I had to get used to all the baby stuff again.”

“Hey,” Chris said defensively, “it’s not like I wished for….never mind.” All Chris got was a quick round of cooing in reply.

“Mommy,” Angela said tugging on her mother’s hand, “I could pretend to be a baby to help you practice.” Barbara bent over to look her daughter in the eye.

“That’s sweet, Angie, but I’m happy with you being a big girl.”

“I know!” Roxanne chimed in, “Why don’t we set up a playdate? Angela can get an idea of what it’s like to be a big sister, and you and me can catch up on old times!”

“That’s a great idea,” Barbara agreed. “Plus, I can get a little refresher on babies.”

Roxanne chuckled, “Very few things are ‘fresh’ around this little guy.” Chris could only grumble as Barbara laughed in agreement.

“Okay, we’ll call you later,” Barbara said by way of exiting. Chris hoped she forgot.

“Okay, see you later!” Roxanne called back. She turned to Chris. “Now where did your sisters get to?” Clearly this was rhetorical. Chris was getting used to rhetorical questions. At least in most of the stories he read online, the main character wasn’t alone in their babified state.

They were either babified in some kind of prison (nope), being mentally regressed (um….not sure but for the most part nope), being physically regressed (unless his mind was just picturing himself as an adult to cope, nope), being purposefully babied by cruel parents as an overblown punishment (nope), or reality had altered (check) where everyone his age and younger was treated like a baby (nope). Though there was that one story where the girl’s wish kept getting misinterpreted and twisted so she was being treated younger and younger and nobody seemed to notice. (Bingo) Damn. Chris read a lot of infantilist porn.

Samantha wasn’t all that hard to find. Chris instantly spotted her sitting on the floor by the shelves, her nose buried in a book with a “Warrior Cat” or some such tween nonsense on the cover.

“There you are,” Roxanne said, “Found what you were looking for?” Samantha just nodded as she continued to stare and turn the pages. “Where’s Brianna?” Roxanne asked. Samantha just shrugged her shoulders, engrossed in her book.

Roxanne sat Chris down besides his sister. “Look after your little brother, while I go look for Bri.” Roxanne said before heading off.

“Kay kay,” Samantha said absentmindedly, still hypnotized by the words on the pages. Chris heard his pants crinkle as he shifted his weight. Samantha got like this sometimes, and there was no polite way to get her out of her trances. No polite way.

“Damn,” Chris leaned over, “how the hell did you get to the middle already?” Samantha ignored what must have been incoherent babble. “You’re gonna need another book before we leave at this rate? Are these even on your reading level?”

“Love you too, Chris,” was the bored reply he got. Chris gritted his teeth. What was the point of being rude when no one could understand your snark? Then Chris was struck by inspiration.

FWAP!

Samantha’s book fell to the floor, as Chris smacked it out of Sammy’s hands. He smiled smugly as it tumbled out of her grasp. Samantha just sighed and picked up her book again and began reading it again.

FWAP!

Samantha turned and looked Chris in the eye. “What?” she asked incredulously.

“Your mom told you to look after me.” Chris said, “So LOOK after me.” He crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. Sammy rolled her eyes, and smiled despite herself. It was hard to stay mad at a baby.

“You want me to read to you, baby bro?” she asked. Chris nodded. “Then hold on, I’ll go get you a book you’ll like.” Without a further word, Samantha sprung to her feet and trotted off towards the posters of Dr. Seuss.

Wow…talk about irresponsible. Leaving her baby brother all alone. Hmm, how much of a baby was he? Time to experiment. Chris shifted his weight again. He could sit up on his own. Good. Chris rolled over onto all fours and took a few tentative crawl-steps. Easy enough. He was at least a crawler. Good. Chris leaned over and grabbed the nearest book shelf. Time for the big test.

Chris pulled with all the might in his arms and pushed with all the might in his legs. Slowly. Very slowly, he stood. Chris grunted and strained as he lifted himself to his feet. He felt like he was about to break into a sweat. He feared briefly that he might poop his pants again. Finally, still clutching the shelf as a support brace, chris could feel the floor touching his bare feet. HE WAS STANDING.

Chris imagined he was He-Man, he felt so strong. (I HAVE THE POOOOOOWER!). He threw his hands up into the air in celebration. Suddenly, he felt very wobbly. Images of Bambi on the ice flashed through his brain as his legs gave out and he tumbled back onto the Library floor.

In his fantasies, this would normally be the part where he started tearing up, humiliated by his lack of coordination and just how far he’d slipped into infancy. Yeah…nope

“Heheheheheheeeheeeheeehohohohohoho!” Chris giggled in glee. Damn, fantasy or not, this was awesome! Chris calmed down. From what he remembered of the girls’ infancy, he figured he was somewhere between 6 and 9 months old. Old enough to crawl around with ease and stand with support, but walkinng was still a no go.

Samantha came back with a book, and sat down beside Chris. Chris recognized the cover instantly. Her sister definitely had a thing for cats lately. She opened the book and pulled Chris closer, not quite in her lap.

“The sun did not shine,” she said, “it was too wet to play, so we sat in the house all that cold cold wet day.” Classic. Classic. Chris leaned over to get a look at the book. He pretty much knew it by heart, but he wanted to get a look at the pictures.

Chris’s eyes bugged out of his head. The words. The words didn’t make any sense. They looked like some weird cross between Chinese, Sanscrit, Hebrew, written Braile, and High Elvish. In other words, ito Chris’s eyes it was complete chicken scratch.

Chris stopped looking at the pictures and listening to the story and started focusing on the written words. Samantha “helpfully” traced along the scribbles with her finger. The way she read didn’t make sense. Sometimes she was going left to right, other times she went right to left. Sometimes it was top to bottom, others it was bottom to top. On one page, the one with Things One and Two, her finger traced a counter clockwise spiral. He could feel his breath getting shorter and shorter. He was on the verge of hyperventilating.

This must be some trick his brain was playing on him. It had to be. Chris vaguely remembered from his basic psychology classes that the side of the brain responsible for dreams was different from the side of the brain responsible for reading. Or maybe that was an episode of “Batman”. Logically, this was evidence that Chris was still dreaming. His breathing started to slow as he reasoned the situation out. Then again, logic had little to do with this situation.

That’s when Brianna walked up and wordlessly took a seat on the floor next to her siblings. Based on the cover filled with sketches, Chris guessed it was a “How To Draw” book, though he couldn’t be sure based on the writing. Strange markings surrounded the covers perimeter like Nordic Runes. Hyper Dislexia.

“Hi Bri,” both Chris and Samantha said in unison, though only one of them could be understood.

“Hi,” Brianna said, more to Sammy than to Chris. She plopped down next to Chris so that he was sandwhiched between the two of them. Chris smiled to himself. In another world, he’d be guarding them.

“You know Mom is looking for you, right?” Samantha asked her sister. Brianna just grunted in reply and shrugged. Samantha shrugged in reply and slid the kiddie book into Chris’s lap. “She’ll find us eventually,” she concluded before going back to her own book.

Within moments, his youngest sister was busy flipping through the pages of the art book and paying him no mind.

“Second verse, same as the first,” Chris laughed.

FWAP!

Bri’s book tumbled to the floor. She picked it up.

FWAP!

Again, Bri paid no mind and picked the book up again. She always was the more stubborn of the two.

FWAP!

Brianna picked up her hardcover drawing book and looked Chris dead in the eye.

WOMP!

Ow! Ow! Ow! The hell? Bri had taken her book and practically slammed it flat on top of Chris’s head. That had hurt. Alot.

“Must…not…cry…” Chris whispered through gritted teeth. “Won’t…even…leave…a bruise.” His vision blurred as he started to whimper and cry against his will. “That fuckin’ hurt…” he murmured. Sammy’s arms were enveloping him in an instant. His head was in her lap as she started shushing him and petting his head.

“It’s okay, Chris, it’s okay.” She shushed, “Bri!” she scolded, “What was that about?!”

“He hit my book,” Bri said matter-of-factly.

“So you hit HIM?” Samantha asked, her voice raising.

“Yup.” answered Brianna, not raising her voice.

“Bri! He’s just a baby!” Samantha started to shriek, “He doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s not as strong as you.”

“Dumb baby.” Bri grunted as she started to open her book again.

Still smarting from the bop on the head and pissed at being called “dumb”, Chris raised his right hand and gave Brianna the one finger salute. “Fuck you,” Chris declared. Brianna’s eyes widened in recognition. Apparently nothing in this dream had changed the meaning of THAT little gesture.

“Ooooooh. I’m telling,” Bri announced as she stood up.

“Pffft! He’s just a baby,” Samantha rolled her eyes.

“I’m telling on you!”, Bri said before sprinting away.

“What?!” Samantha yelled in disbelief before leaping to her own feet. “Stop! Come on Chris, let’s get her.”

Chris found himself suddenly under his little sister’s arm and bouncing up and down as she chased after Brianna. “Whoah, oah, oah oah, whoah!” he yelped. Despite being nearly twice her size and easily double her weight, she was carrying him like a football.

Chris strained and squirmed, but it was no use. He craned his ned up to see where they were running too. Uphead was Roxanne with Brianna already pestering.

“Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mama, Mama, Mama, Ma-” she said.

Roxanne held up her finger, and Brianna stopped. Roxanne looked to Samantha. “Samantha,” Roxanne said in a concerned and stern tone, “that’s no way to carry your baby brother.”

“Oh, sorry, Mom,” Samantha said, before righting Chris and placing him on her hip, supporting his diapered butt with her hand. This was just ridiculous. Even being carried by her, Chris was still easily a head taller than her while sitting.

Roxanne looked back down to Brianna. “Now what did you want to tell me?” she asked Brianna.

“Chris flipped me off.” Brianna said curtly. “He stuck up his middle finger at me.”

“Samanthaaaaa…” Roxanne narrowed her eyes.

“What?” Samantha asked defensively.

“What have we talked about being a good influence on your little brother?” It was less of a question and more of an accusation.

“He didn’t learn it from me!” Samantha insisted.

“Actually,” Chris smirked, “I kinda taught it to her.”

“And,” Samantha went on, “he only did it after Bri smacked him in the head as hard as she could with a book!”

“No I didn’t!” Bri proclaimed her innocence. Chris wasn’t letting Bri get away with this. He stuck out his lip and made it tremble as he rubbed the top of his head where he was hit.

“Briiiiii….” Roxanne warned.

“Well,” Bri took a big breath. “It wasn’t as hard as I could.”

Roxanne just sighed and took Chris over from his little sister. She briefly inspected the top of his head.

“Well, he doesn’t seem too hurt. But you gotta be careful around him.” Roxanne chided her daughters. “AND,” she added, “you need to watch your language and what you do around him. He sees and hears more things than you think he does.” (Damn straight). “We’re going to have a serious talk about this later girls, but we’re running late.”

Chris could see the look of panic drain from his sisters’ faces. Both girls let out a sigh of relief as they started walking to the checkout. “Later” in Roxanne-eese usually meant “Never”. Way to go busy schedule and overhwelmed parents!

“Let’s go girls,” Roxanne called out as they exited back into the parking lot. “We’re gonna meet Daddy back at the house for lunch.”

Uh-Oh.

Re: College or Cribs

Chapter 5: Lunch with Dad

It was eerily quiet on the car ride home. The girls were both burrowing into their respective books, Roxanne was focused on driving, and only a Raphey CD played for Chris’s benefit broke the silence. Christopher Cole IV wasn’t listening though.

Instead, Chris sat silently in his giant car seat, contemplating the upcoming lunch with his father. When he had woken up this morning (to his delight no less) as a giant baby, Chris hadn’t figured the fantasy would last this long. Everything from after he was carried out of a macro-sized nursery had been a surprise at this point.

Most of the stories he read online were either intensely intimate and private, or intensely public and humiliating. This had been both and neither at the same time. It had been intimate at the beginning, and became increasingly public. Then again, his sisters (who had not been part of the original fantasy script) had cared for him out of a sense of responsibility and knowing they’d be rewarded for it by their mother. There was nothing wrong with that, and Chris remembered sitting for the girls when he was in middle and high school due to similar obligations and selfish motivations-it didn’t mean he hadn’t loved his little sisters.

But in the stories, the baby was always the center of everyone’s world, either to the delight or the chagrin of the main character being regressed or babied. This morning, he had definitely been babied, but was otherwise being ignored provided he stayed quiet, much like the real deal.

Furthermore, while the public change in the parkingllot had been humiliating; it had been a private and rather low key humiliation, as had the rest of the public outing. It wasn’t like he was being carted around and people were gawking or laughing. It’s not like his babyishness was being pointed out constantly and mocked. Instead, his humiliation was his own and was neither purposefully provoked or prolonged and went unnoticed. So perhaps the word “humiliated” was a bit hyperbolic. “Embarrassed” was a more apt description.

That brought Chris to his current predicament: His father. Chris had a slightly complicated relationship with his dad- him having the hots for his step-mother not withstanding. Their relationship wasn’t cold and distant or hot and tempered. It had been lukewarm for as long as the young man could remember.

As a pre-med student, Chris was becoming the next chain in a long line of "Dr. Cole"s. He had that much in common with his father; and that’s where many of the similarities ended. For some reason, the Cole men had a well deserved reputation for making stoic and tight-lipped look gregarious. The opening scene from almost every episode of “King of the Hill” with the four men drinking beer and saying “yup” was more talkative than Dr. Cole.

Relatives on Roxanne’s side of the family would always joke that Dad’s tombstone would read: DR CHRISTOPHER COLE III M.D. DIDN’T COMPLAIN, DIDN’T EXPLAIN.

One of the few things that Chris’s father actually got talkative about was his job. Chris supposed that was one of the many reasons why he had been studying to become a doctor. Yeah, it was kind of expected of him like a family business, but more importantly it would give him and his dad something to talk about beyond the initial handshake, “Hello”, and “How’s School?”.

In this current situation, Chris wouldn’t even get that much. Chris thought back to when the girls were little and seemed to remember Dad doing his fair share of cooing and playing with them; but did he really want that? Being infantilized by his step-mom was both erotic and oddly comforting. The same treatment by his little sisters was at least kind of fun in that he now had the opportunity to pay them back for some of the heck they put him through. Granted that didnt work out so well with Bri- but he still got to experience being the sibling without responsibilities or expectations. Did he really want that same experience with his father? To be gushed over and treated like…well a baby?

More than anyone else, Chris had intended to hide his fetish from his father; his role-model of manliness. How humiliating and emasculating would it be to be found out like that? No, he didn’t consider himself a “sissy” in the ab/dl sense of the word….though he doubted few people outside the ab/dl community would make that distinction. He imagined that his father would have preferred to hear “Dad, I’m gay.” over “Dad, I want to be treated like a baby.” There were plenty of gay people out in the world who for all intents and purposes were still as conservative, white-collar, and WASPy outside of the bedroom.

Chris considered himself very open minded, liberal, and accepting of others. You kind of had to be if you had a fetish- in his mind anyway. It would have been hypocritical of him to take a stance like “I may like wearing diapers and sleeping in cribs, but at least I don’t have sex in a bear costume.” or even “I might pretend to be a baby, but at least I pretend to be a baby boy” Instead Chris had inwardly and outwardly resolved to take the stance of “I don’t get the appeal myself, it’s not my thing, but more power to you if it makes sense and appeals to you as long as you’re not hurting anybody.” Isn’t that how life in general should be? But at the same time, Chris couldn’t bring himself to out himself or become anything more than a passive head nodder activist. He had had nightmares about being outed in front of his father and just silently stared down as something less than a man in his father’s eyes- something less than human even.

As the car pulled into the garage, Chris had the distinct feeling that this was going to be one of those nightmares. Logically, whatever mechanism was making the whole world see him as a baby should also affect his father, but logic dictated that none of this should be happening in the first place.

Chris felt his diaper squish as Roxanne picked him up and it crinkled a little less loudly than before. Sometime during the car ride home Chris had wet his pants and hadn’t taken the time to realize it or enjoy it. He hoped that meant that Roxanne would change him again, if only to buy more time before the inevitable occurred. Maybe he’d wake up sticky and in his own bed right as the new diaper was being taped into place. At this point though, Chris would have settled for waking up in his own bed having accidentally wet and pooped in his sleep.

No such luck though. As they entered the house through the garage, Roxanne took a left towards the kitchen instead of the right that would have lead to the nursery. Chris took a deep breath, whether to brace himself or to start wailing as a distraction, he wasn’t sure, but by the time he had inhaled it was too late. Standing in the kitchen, dressed in his typical “casual wear” which meant slacks, belt, loafers, button up shirt and NO tie, was Chris’s father- Dr. Christopher Cole III, M.D.

The apple didn’t fall far from the tree in regards to looks. Father and son looked very much alike. Similar facial structure, nose, even eye color. But while Chris wore his chestnut brown hair in almost a mop-top, Dr. Cole kept his hair this side of buzz cut. Either Dad had aged well, or he had found a hair dye that matched Chris’s particular hair perfectly. But who the heck dyed a buzz cut?

Also like father like son, neither of the Cole men had a beard. Facial hair was not a strong suit in the Cole family. Cole had tried growing out a full beard his freshman year of college and after weeks was rewarded with only a patchy and discolored goatee that combined with his mop top to make Chris more than resemble a certain cartoon character that was constantly being chased by ghosts along with his talking Great Dane. Dr. Cole wisely kept his professional look clean shaven.

“Hi Daddy”, Samantha said looking up from her book.

“Hi Dad,” Brianna echoed.

“Girls,” their father said in acknowledgement, “went to the library I see. Get any good books?”

“Yeah.” they both said before trotting off to the dining room table. Maybe Chris was the oddball in the family and it just wasn’t normal to talk more than a few words a a time.

Dad laid eyes on Chris and walked up to him. Chris braced himself and bit his lip in nervous apprehension. “There’s my big boy!” Dad said with a big smile on his face. He tousled Chris’s hair and looked to Roxanne. “What’s for lunch?”

Wait. That was it? All that for nothing? Sheesh, that was about as terrifying as it was rewarding and reaffirming….it wasn’t.

“Well we have plenty of fried chicken left over from a couple of nights ago,” Roxanne said. I figured we could reheat it and have the rest for lunch."

Chris’s dad nodded briefly, then said “Don’t worry about it. Tastes better cold than reheated.” He gave Roxanne a peck on the cheek and went over to the fridge.

Chris found himself being carried over to the dining room, as Sammy drug the oversized high chair to the table with one hand. Roxanne patted his crotch and squeezed the front of his diaper. “You’ll be okay till after lunch.” she told him as she buckled him into the high chair.

Chris’s mouth began to water as Dad returned to the table with a tray of refrigerated fried chicken. He licked his lips absentmindedly. Surely they’d give some to him, even if it was cut up into little pieces. Samantha giggled a little bit, she seemed to pick up.

“Mom, I think Chris wants some fried chicken too,” she informed as Roxanne returned with a plastic bowl and spoon in hand.

“Well, I think he might still be a little too young for fried chicken, honey,” Roxanne told her eldest daughter, “but it’s nice of that you’re thinking of your brother.” A bowl of discolored mush was put in front of Chris instead. Chris couldn’t help but frown and was rewarded with Bri giggling as she took a bite into a left over drumstick.

“So,” Dad began once everyone- except Chris- had a piece of chicken on their plate, “what did you get at the library?”

“Drawing book.” said Brianna curtly between mouthfuls. Dad nodded in a feigning interest sort of way.

“I got the next Warriors book,” Sammy cut in.

“Oh?” said Dad.

“Yeah, it’s about-” Sammy then went into a detailed chapter by chapter recap of not only the entire book thus far but also important plot points that were tie ins from previous books in the series." Clearly Sammy had yet to fully grasp the art of summarizing, especially to a room full of people that did not especially care about the damn book.

Chris, for his part, allowed Roxanne to spoon feed him the mush in between bites of her own leftover chicken. He had already learned the hard way that he didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, it wasn’t that bad. It was some kind of pureed and starchy vegetable based on the taste, but it still had more flavor than the pablum he’d been given this morning.

Roxanne was continually whispering things like “There’s a good boy,” and “good baby”, and “just a couple more big boy bites.” and other such nonsensical praises with each spoonful. Chris had never felt so accomplished with the simple act of eating a meal.

“Your chicken’s gonna be warm again by the time you’re finished, Sammy” Chris interjected between spoonfuls of baby food. Unsurprisingly, Sammy ignored his comment as gibberish as did the rest of the table.

Chris “harumphed” to himself as his witty remark went unnoticed and unheeded. Honestly, this day so far had been a real mixed bag. It felt very much like the kind of day he had expected to wake up to when he when he went to sleep: Breakfast, a little quality time with the siblings, and a pretty typical lunch, silent father included. Only now, he couldn’t really participate in any of the conversations and goings on as much as observe them. It honestly kind of sucked.

A sudden and growing need to urinate reminded Chris that not everything was the same at the moment. With guilty anticipation he looked around the table before his aching bladder had let loose. It had been a mere few seconds but it felt as if he had been holding it forever. A quiet hiss filled Chris’s ears as he released his stream into the already damp diaper. His nerve centers danced with pleasure as he felt the front of his crotch grow noticeably warmer and the sensation continued down into his backside.

He sighed and grinned to himself, noticing that no one had heard it, or at least cared. Then again, there were some fringe benefits to this scenario. His thumb slid up to his mouth and he began to suck on his thumb, loving just how little it made him feel. Roxanne noticed and put down the spoon for a moment so that she could eat her own lunch.

On one hand, he was in a high chair, wearing a wet diaper, eating spoon fed mush and sucking on his thumb. That was kind of weird. On the other hand, he was in a high chair, wearing a wet diaper, eating spoon fed mush and sucking on his thumb! That was all kinds of awesome! Funny how the same phrase could be viewed differently by two different parts of his psyche. It’s almost as if he was both an adult AND a baby…oh wait. Yeah.

“Speaking of the library,” Roxanne cut in when Sammy was finally done ranting about a book that only she read, “little Chris here seems to have learned a very bad thing from one of his sisters.”

“Oh?” Dad said looking up from his plate.

The girls immediately started pointing fingers at each other, grimacing in fear and not saying anything.

“Girls,” Roxanne cocked an eyebrow, “which one of you taught Chris that?”

“Taught Chris what?” Dad asked, since no one had come out and said anything yet. Chris took that as his cue.

PFHHHH!

Chris blew into his thumb like it was a balloon and popped his middle finger up into the air. He popped his thumb out of his mouth and pretended to tie it off before folding it back over his pointer finger. There was exactly three seconds of stunned silence before the girls and Roxanne all erupted into surprised, shocked, and hilarious laughter. The table shook as Sammy and Bri both beat it with their fists for emphasis. Only Dad didn’t laugh. Soon no one was. Chris gulped a little, and he wasn’t sure, but he think he might hae wet a little more.

“Well,” he spoke as the laughter died down into dreadful silence. “So long as he doesn’t make it a habit by pre-school, I think we can let it slide.” Everyone let a sigh when Dad half-smiled and stood up from the table. Apparently lunch was over.

Dad walked out of the dining area toward the living room and sat in his favorite chair before turning on the TV. Roxanne cleared away dishes and took them over to the sink. Brianna walked up to the highchair and plopped a torn off piece of white meat with a little skin on Chris’s tray. Roxanne was still busy rinsing dishes and loading them into the dishwasher. Sammy was sitting at the table still, but once again engrossed in her book.

“Funny baby get chicken.” she growl-whispered in one of her chipmunk voices, before walking away.

Chris unhesitatingly popped the meat in his mouth and began chewing. After nothing but mush all day, this was a gourmet treat. His taste buds cheered as the flavor of fourteen original herbs and spices coated his tongue. Big sister or little sister, whichever, he loved Bri at that moment.

Roxanne returned with a larger than normal baby bottle, filled with apple juice. She wiped Chris’s mouth with a bib and then handed him the bottle while she slid the tray away and unbuckled him from his high chair. Chris greedily gulped down the apple juice while she did so.

He continued downing the stuff while Roxanne picked him up, and he could really feel the wet diaper sagging between his thighs. Chris was not surprised when Roxanne walked him back into the nursery and laid him down on the changing table. He wasn’t surprised when the strap came across his belly and his shorts came down.

He kept drinking from the bottle while his step-mother removed the sodden undergarment and started wiping him down. He was drinking from a bottle while getting his diaper changed. A new high or low, depending on how you thought of it.

Chris was mildly surprised and disappointed that he didn’t wake up from this dream world as another new Pampers was brought up between his legs and taped in place. It would’ve been nice to end the dream on a high note, as it were. Chris was even more surprised when Roxanne didn’t put his shorts back on.

Instead she picked him up and brought him over to the crib he had woken up this morning. “Nap time,” she whispered as she laid him down. She reached over and handed him his old teddy bear, Wubby. She yawned, and said “Mommy needs a nap too.” Chris yawned back, yawns being contagious and all. Chris felt very tired suddenly. Maybe it was all the stress of this dream, or whatever it was. Maybe he had a baby’s sleeping habits to go with the lack of bladder control, muscle strength, and inability to read. Maybe he was just tired.

Regardless the reason, Chris felt a great sense of peace enter him as he closed his eyes and cuddled his teddy close and fell asleep.

Re: College or Cribs

more more please this story is soooooooooo great!!! ;D :wink: :smiley: :slight_smile:

Re: College or Cribs

Thank you. I’m glad you are enjoying it enough to where your o button locked up for a bit. It is also pleasing that you smiled in four different ways while reading this.

P.s. random thought….what are those two columns beside the title of each thread for?

Re: College or Cribs

loving it. some cliches but done right. still plenty of originality. keep it going.

Re: College or Cribs

On the page with the list of threads?

It depends on which theme you’re using. The default theme should be to indicate read/unread status/whether the topic is “popular” and/or whether or not you’ve posted in it. The second column is the column that shows if the post has attachments (a paper clip) and may also show a different icon if one was selected when the topic was created.

That should be true for most of the themes actually, but if I remember correctly at least one theme is missing the second column and has the icon directly next to the topic name similar to how the icons are shown in the subject lines in the actual topic :slight_smile:

Re: College or Cribs

Thanks for the info. On with the show.

Chapter 6: After nap.

The sound of a door attempting to close quietly, and clicking into place roused Christopher Cole IV from his slumber. Footsteps creaking on hardwood floors and speedily walking away took Chris out of his infantile haze.

Chris woke up before he opened his eyes. This was supposed to be the part where he woke up and everything was back to normal. You go to sleep in a dream, you wake up in real life. You go to sleep an adult and wake up a baby, in the stories you then go to sleep as a baby, and wake up an adult and then everything is back to normal. There might be some twist in the end, but then typically, that was the end of the adventure. Right? Right.

Granted, in some stories, the main character got regressed as a big baby and stayed that way forever. Heck, sometimes the stories didn’t even need a particular stated reason as to why the main character was stuck as a big baby, like “Nightmare” by Big Musket. But those were Big Musket stories. Besides, Big Musket’s main characters were entirely female, so it’s not like he was stuck in one of those. Those were fun to read if you were in the mood for something dark, but woe to the person trapped in one of those stories. Not a fair or happy ending…

Keeping his eyes closed, Chris slowly began to probe downwards with his right hand, and to the side with his left. He felt the soft and spongey texture of a wet diaper, and his left hand gripped around a wooden bar. Shit. Still stuck in this scenario.

Chris’s eyes popped up and he pushed himself up to a sitting position as he looked around. He was in the same room; a replica of his youngest sister’s room when she was a baby, repainted for a boy. He looked down and saw that he was once again in a wet Pampers with Elmo on the front landing strip.

Was he having a “Ground Hog Day?”, or was he still asleep and the dream was just replaying itself? Chris remembered reading somewhere that contrary to what popular culure portrayed, dreams actually happened in real time, and it hadn’t been eight hours yet. Maybe his brain had run out of material and put the dream on loop.

Chris looked down at his shirt and realized that he was not in “reruns” so to speak. He was wearing the shirt that he had been dressed in before breakfast, not the one he had woken up in this morning Furthermore, while it was still daytime, the sun beams coming through his window were not as intense as they were this morning. Meaning the sun was on the other side of the house, making it the afternoon. The Elmo diaper had thrown him off, but that’s because Chris hadn’t been paying attention when he was being changed before the nap. There were only so many Sesame Street characters, and unless the adult diapering a baby made a deliberate rotation or pattern, there were bound to be repeat diaper decorations in a given day. It’s not like the adults gave a crap which muppet got crapped on.

Chris took a deep breath. “Time to get this going, again, I guess,” he muttered to himself. “Roxanne!”, he called, “Roxanne, I’m awake!” There was no response. “ROXANNE, I’M UP FROM MY NAP! COME CHANGE ME!” Still no response. Chris thought for moment, and then rolled his eyes. “MOMMY!”

Chris finally heard footsteps approaching. The door opened up and a smiling Roxanne walked in. “Hey there, precious!” she cooed. “Did you enjoy your nap?” Chris just nodded his head, already knowing better than to verbalize. “I bet you have a lot of energy”, she said as she lifted Chris back out of the crib. “But noooooo squirming until after I change your diaper.”

“Wow, another diaper change,” Chris spoke, knowing Roxanne wouldn’t understand him.“What are the odds?” Chris folded his arms across his chest and allowed his diaper to be changed without incident. It was still enjoyable, and almost therapeutic; but at the same time the ritual was losing potency in terms of anticipation and excitement. Roxanne wasn’t making it particularly sensual, she was just being gentle, fast, and changing diapers like a pro. Chris wondered if eventually the act of wearing, wetting, and getting changed would completely lose it’s appeal and become as blasé to him as taking a piss in the toilet was. He hoped not.

How many diaper changes had he already been through in less than a full day? He wondered while Roxanne was finishing taping up the fresh Pamper. There was the one at the beginning of the morning, the one at the library (ugh…no repeats there please), the one after lunch, and now this one. So depending on whether you counted the wet one he woke up in this morning, he was on his fourth or fifth diaper of the day.

Out of curiosity, Chris peered down and saw the new diaper. Sesame Street’s The Count stared up at him from his new diaper. “You’ve gotta be shitting me” he said in disbelief as Roxanne undid the strap from the changing table. When he’s humiliated and grumpy during a public diaper change, his new diaper had Oscar the Grouch on it. When he’s wondering how many diapers he’s gone through in a day, The Count is on the next diaper. Somebody was fucking with him.

Rather than being gahtered up in Roxanne’s motherly embrace, Chris found himself lifted up and quickly deposited on the floor of his new bedroom, lying on his belly. With a little effort he repositioned himself so that he was on all fours. He turned his head to inspect his backside.

“No pants?” he asked looking up at Roxanne. Roxanne nodded and took a few steps back, motioning for Chris to follow her. “Of course, no pants, we’re not going out again,” Chris concluded. So with a sigh, Chris started to crawl and followed his step-mother out into the living area. Him slowly crawling, while she patiently coaxed him forward.

Out in the main living area, Brianna was once again playing her Wii dance game. Samantha seemed content to just watch as her little sister aped the movements on screen. Dad was nowhere to be seen, but the faint buzz of a lawnmower coming from the back of the house clued Chris in.

“Whatcha doin’ Mom?”, Samantha asked as her brother crawled out in what amounted to a t-shirt and underwear.

“Oh, just having Chris chase me.” Roxanne replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It builds up his muscles and he seems to enjoy it.” Roxanne continued to motion her hands in a “Come on” motion while slowly backing away. Chris continued to crawl forward, hearing the distinct crinkle with every movement.

“Neat,” Sammy said, “Can I play too?”

“Sure”, her mother consented.

So now, there were two people playing keep away from Chris while he crawled to catch up to them. The ease in which they backed away just as he was about to catch up to them confirmed that man was not meant to walk on all fours.

“Almost there, Chris; almost there”, they would say, and smile. Then as soon as he would reach them, just barely able to try to grab Samantha’s ankles or to try to cop another feel on his step-mother, they would back away a few more agonizing steps and the process would start all over again. It would be idiotic and demeaning to all involved if any of them besides Chris had realized that he was not really an infant.

Fortunately, Chris was the only one aware of his current predicament, and was kind of enjoying the simple game and all the attention he was getting. For once, his little sister wanted to spend time with him. He was the baby to be cooed and played with, not the brother who was too young to be an authority figure but too old to be a peer. For once the age gap was in his favor.

Besides the fact that he was enjoying the attention, Chris always did have a bit of a competitive streak in him. This was a game, and he would beat them. He WOULD catch them. He WOULD.

A big dumb grin spread across his face as he repeatedly trudged on. His teeth grit and his lips pulled tight in manic competitive glee. He might have been a smiling child, or an excited puppy dog.

“I think he likes it,” he heard Sammy say.

“Of course he does,” Roxanne assured, “we’re playing with him.” The game abruptly changed when his oldest sister and his step-mother parted in opposite directions, but both continued to call to him. Chris was in the middle, while on either side he had a family member calling him. He looked to his left, his right, and then his left again, unsure of which target to pursue.

“I think we confused him,” Samantha called out over Chris’s head.

“He’s just making up his mind.” Roxanne called back.

Chris then quickly made up his mind. He tentatively reached out an arm to continue crawling, then wobbled a little bit and fell promptly on his face, his butt still up in the air. He flattened out onto his stomach, picked his face up off the hardwood floor and scrunched it up into a ball.

“WAAAAAAAAAAAH!” he wailed. Chris was very aware of the collective gasp and felt the approaching footfalls from the floor. The music from Bri’s dancing game even stopped as the girl hit pause to see what was happening.

He felt their shadows over him as they bent over to check on their bawling baby brother. Before either of them could pick him up and console him, Chris’s arms shot out at top speed and grabbed both Roxanne and Samantha by the ankles. His crying came to an abrupt halt as both of them looked down and noticed being grabbed firmly.

“Gotcha,” Chris giggled. Chris turned his head and saw Sammy doing a double take: Eyes wide and mouth agape she looked down at her foot, then to her mother’s foot and the “baby” in between them, then bag up to her mother. Her foot, her mom’s foot, her brother clutching both and giggling like an idiot, then up to her mother. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Roxanne, in the meantime, was just chuckling to herself and shaking her head. Chris rolled over onto his back, releasing his grip and just looked up at the two of them.

“Did we just get tricked by a baby?” Sammy asked, incredulous at the situation. Roxanne could only keep chuckling and nod. “Oh, my Gawd,” Sammy proclaimed, still unable to wipe the stupefied expression from her face. “I just got tricked by someone too young to walk.”

“Damn right you did!” Chris laughed while pointing up at Sammy. “Well errr…” he started to correct himself, “That is to say- I mean- whocareshahaIwon!” Bri also seemed to appreciate the sentiment and she fairly tittered at the scene.

“Well, he’s getting there,” Roxanne replied over what must have been baby talk to her ears. “The crawling game builds up his muscles and him wanting to come and play with us will make it so eventually he’ll be able to stand up and walk to us. But,” she added playfully, “if we keep falling for these tricks of his and come to him every time, he won’t need to learn to walk, will he?”

Both of them laughed at themselves, and Chris pushed himself back up to a sitting position.

“I wouldn’t fall for it.” Brianna called out.

“That’s cuz you don’t care if he’s hurt or crying as long as you get to play your dumb video games,” Samantha retorted. It wasn’t said in a mean accusing way, but it wasn’t quite a joke either. For her part, Bri seemed thoughtful for a moment, then shrugged the comment off and began to turn around to unpause the Wii.

“I’m going to bring your father some lemonade, and then read by the pool for a few hours,” Roxanne announced. “Will you girls be okay looking after Chris for a while?”

“Sure”, both sisters confirmed. Without looking back, Roxanne walked into the kitchen area, took out a pitcher of lemonade, some red solo cups, and walked out of the house to the backyard. The buzzing of the lawnmower stopped.

Chris once again, found himself being picked up and being toted over to the T.V. “Hey, Bri,” Sammy said. I’ve got an idea. Let’s have Chris dance!" Bri nodded her ascent and started flipping through the song list.

Unfortunately, either the writing had changed to mindless squiggles or Chris’s brain was simulating illiteracy, so Chris couldn’t read the titles of any of the songs. And Sammy and Bri - especially Bri- were very familiar with the playlist, so they flipped through the song list at light speed before the Wii could even play the requisite soundbite. Chris’s own passing knowledge of the game made it so he didn’t even bother looking at the video covers or costumes to hazard a guess, as they rarely if ever had anything to do with the song and dance they represented. Seriously, what does a guy in a super hero mask and cape with Godzilla in the background have anything to do with “The Final Countdown” by Europe?

“Nope. Nope. Nadda. Nope. Oh that one! That one!” Samantha Shrieked, while Chris shifted in her lap. Chris didn’t have time to even think about what song he was going to be subjected to -or how he was supposed to dance- when felt himself being shifted off of Sammy’s lap and felt his bare feet touch the living room floor. Before he could collapse onto all fours however, he felt his sister’s hands boosting him up by the armpits.

Chris pushed off with his legs and found that he could stand while Sammy held him upright, while his arms dangled like Howdy Doody.

“HADN’T BEEN FOR COTTON EYE JOE, I BEEN MARRIED LONG TIME AGO!” the TV blared. A countrified cowgirl manakin stepped onto the screen, and Brianna’s focus immediately leapt to the screen.

“Well, I suppose it’s better than Miley Cyrus”, Chris mused. “But how am I supposed to da-?” Chris was caught off guard as Sammy started swaying and bobbing him to the techno country music.

“Look, Chris! You’re dancing! You’re dancing!” Sammy giggled as she made her brother akin to a marionette. Chris tried to keep what little balance he had and found his feet awkwardly stomping and kicking up and down roughly to the beat as a result. “You’re dancing!” Sammy cooed, while Bri was trying to mimic the leg movements of the computerized dancer.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Chris asked rhetorically. He was tempted to struggle, but something in him knew better, so he just went with it. Still, this wasn’t nearly as fun as the crawling game. At least then, he was in control. He might as well have been a doll here. Samantha must have sensed Chris’s boredom because she soon spiced it up.

Unwarned and unannounced, Chris went flying through the air. He screamed in surprise as his feet left the ground and he was only vaguely aware of an “Upsy Daisy” call as he gained significant altitude. He was launched! He was free falling! He was caught. Sammy had tossed him up and caught him as if he were a….well, you know.

Before he could catch his breath, Chris was launched again into the air, landing somehow safely, in the firm grasp of his oldest little sister. She looked into his eyes, and saw his panic.

“Hmmm….” Sammy remarked, “That usually makes him laugh.” Fortunately, the tossing stopped, and he Chris found himself bouncing on Sammy’s knee as the song finished.

“Yay!” Sammy cheered in a high pitched voice, as she forced Chris’s hands to clap together. “Again! Again! Yaaaaaaay!” Chris shook his head in panic and exasperation.

“No, not again!” Chris said in a huff. “We’re good here. No need to dance. No dancing babies here!” Then another idea popped into his head. “Lemme play,” he said as he wriggled in Samantha’s grasp, reaching out toward the Wii remote Bri was holding. “Lemme play.”

Bri looked over at her brother reaching for the remote. She cocked an eyebrow for a moment, before dramatically swinging the remote away in the opposite direction. “Nnnnnnno!” Chris stared at her with big puppy dog eyes and puffed out his lip. “Nnnnnnno!” Bri responded. Chris poured on the pathetic and somehow willed his eyes bigger, his lips poutier and his wriggling and grasping at the air cuter.

“I think he wants to try Bri,” Samantha, always the advocate it seemed, spoke up in a translation that probably wasn’t needed.

Bri, for her part was as heartless as ever. “Nnnnno!” She wasn’t saying it vehemently, but just being silly and stubborn.

“How can I be the one in diapers right now,” Chris taunted, “but you’re still the one acting like a big baby? What’s the matter? Afraid I’ll beat your score?” Without anymore theatrics, Bri handed over the remote so that it could be grasped by Chris’s outstretched hands.

“No drooling” was all she said.

Chris pressed what he supposed was the “A” button on the remote, and The Rednex’s rendition of “Cotton-Eye Joe” started again. Chris focused all of his attention on the T.V. while he was still cradled in Sammy’s grasp. Once again, the song blared and Chris started waving the wand. Unsurprisingly to Chris, this was a lot harder than Brianna had made it look, and his new babyish body was adapting to the lifestyle his subconscious was putting on him.

His arms felt so much more clumsy and slow than he was used to, and it was a serious effort to move the controller with any sort of accuracy or finesse. It felt like he was holding a dumb bell, while trying to move it in a synchronized swimming routine while submerged in a vat of pudding.

If this had been a Kinect game, Chris would have been screwed, but since the Wii only picked up the movements of the controller, he could focus on just that and not really affect his score. The flashy footwork was all distraction and unnecessary to the score of the game. In fact, Chris found his score went up if he just bopped the remote to the beat of the song.

“Ha-ha!” Sammy pointed, “Chris got almost as good a score as you did!” While that wasn’t entirely accurate, Chris hadn’t bombed as might be expected.

“It’s a dumb game,” Bri defended herself. “He got lucky.”

“Then let’s give him another shot and see if he gets lucky again,” Sammy suggested, a wry smile framing her face. Apparently, Chris wasn’t the only competitive one in the family.

“Better idea,” Bri countered, “You play me.”

“Okay,” Sammy agreed.

Bri didn’t miss a beat and fairly yanked Chris up out of Samantha’s arms, and toted him to the back of the living room. An oversized mesh playpen lay waiting for Chris to occupy it. It was big enough that Chris could tell that it was obviously taller than Brianna, and Chris was fairly certain that his head might have poked up out of the top if he could stand to his full height. She walked in through a gate and dumped him down onto the padded mat. Then without another word, she turned around and shut the gate. Maybe it was a hidden mechanism, or something, but Chris couldn’t tell where the gate was the moment it was shut, and to all appearances, Chris was now in a giant mesh playpen with four solid walls and no door.

Apparently “Play-with-the-baby-tme” was over and done with. To Chris’s surprise, Brianna returned with some blocks and carefully lobbed them into the pen before taking a large blanket and draping it over the top of the playpen, forming a flimsy roof on top.

“Baby concentration camp,” she whispered before she walked away. Waitaminutewhat? Chris fairly guffawed at his youngest sister’s parting remark. Brianna had always been a bit of an oddball, but that was genuinely unexpected. How the hell did a third grader know about concentration camps anyways? Wasn’t that stuff supposed to wait until middle school or something?

Chris reached up and managed to grab the rubber railing of the pen, and just as he had at the library, pulled himself into a teetering standing position. He tore the “roof” off of his playpen and peered above the railing.

Brianna and Samantha were already in the midst of a two player showdown, mimicking a Steve Urkel dressed manikin boogieing down to Stevie Wonder’s “Superstition”. He allowed himself to fall down on his padded rear and figure out what he should do next.

He enjoyed playing with his sisters, but Sammy could be kind of smothering, and Brianna played too rough. Roxanne might as well have been a world away in the back. There had to be something to do to pass the time besides be cooed and fawned over.

His hand absentmindedly probed the pen till it clasped something cubical. He turned and focused his attention to the pile of foam blocks. They were too big to fit into his mouth all the way, and were made of some kind of foam, but the one in his hand seemed sturdy. Chris smiled to himself. This had potential.

Chris stacked two blocks onto each other, making a very small and simple tower. He took two more blocks and made an identical tower. Two more, and two more and two more. Soon he had what he imagined to be a small little metropolis residing in his playpen. Here was city hall, at a amazing height of three blocks. Here was the bank. Here was was the residential district, here was the theatre.

Then, with a sweep of his hand, he destroyed it all! Muahahaha! Countless imaginary lives and livelihoods were ruined as Chris crawled along and swept them away, chewing on the blocks in an appropriately monstrous fashion for good measure. Then, after reveling in the destruction for what seemed like an appropriate amount of time, Chris began to build again.

A new city was built to replace the old one. New and improved, the citizens assured themselves, and such a disaster would never strike again. Until…

On and on the cycle went, with Chris making elaborate stories and block cities, only for each city to end in horror and tragedy. Chris found himself being drawn in exponentially with each building and destruction of the foam towns. He was the creator. He was the destructor. He was the architect and the monster. He. Was. God. MWUAHAHAHAHA!

Chris was broken from his reverie when he noticed his Dad and Roxanne walk out into the living room. They were both dressed in very nice clothes, and his Dad didn’t seem to be sweaty from mowing the lawn. Apparently both had come in, cleaned up and put on nicer clothes. When had that happened?

The girls had meanwhile stopped their dance competition, and Brianna had gone back to being a chubby couch potato, and Sammy a skinny bookworm. When had that happened? Chris sat back on his butt and felt his diaper squish. When the hell had that happened?! Had he really been so engrossed in playing with blocks that he had blocked out the passage of time?

“Your father and I are going out to dinner, just the two of us,” Roxanne told the room. "We’ve got a sitter- mostly as a just in case measure,’ she piped in before Sammy could stare daggers at her. “We expect you to be on your best behavior, okay?”

Chris stared through the mesh and managed to spot the clock on the wall. The clock on the wall showed 6:00- little hand pointing down, big hand pointing up, and thank God that Chris hadn’t forgotten that, even if the numbers now looked like chicken scratch- and there was a knocking on the front door.

Then he saw the baby sitter. He knew her smile in an instant. He knew the curve of her face. He had kissed those lips, whispered sweet nothing into those ears, and on a few steamy occasions had even managed to pet those breasts. And before he had went to bed, he had chatted with her and made a date to pick her up at 6:00pm sharp.

“Sherry?!”

Re: College or Cribs

I like this last part the most so far. You two themes playing off each other, one: being a infant is boring, repetitive, and two, there are simple joys that still hold your attention. I believe I have a idea of providing a story that simultaneously celebrates and is brutally honest about some of the cliches of the genre. I like that self aware aspect of it.

Reading with interest,
TDAD22

Re: College or Cribs

Awesome story

Re: College or Cribs

please write more soon!!! ;D :smiley: :wink: :slight_smile: 8)

Re: College or Cribs

I am really enjoying this story, can’t wait for more.

Re: College or Cribs

Chapter 7: The Date

Chris’s eyes fairly bugged out of his head. Sherry, his Sherry, was the babysitter?! He peered out through the bars. Same light brown hair flowing past her shoulders, same perky breasts, same hips and the barest hint of a tummy. Same brown eyes and bright smile. That was his Sherry alright. She was just as hot as he remembered her, wearing a well-worn GAP t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. And here he was in nothing but a t-shirt and sitting in a dirty diaper while he sucked his thumb.

Wait…what?

Chris popped his thumb out his mouth; a string of drool still connecting his thumb and his lips. When the hell had that happened? The longer and longer this day went on, it seemed, the more of Chris’s body went on auto-pilot. Speaking of auto-pilot, Chris’s penis was starting to stand up and stiffen at the sight of his girlfriend as blood rushed from one head to the other.

“We don’t need a babysitter,” Samantha protested. “Bri and me can take care of ourselves!”

“Sherry isn’t here to baby-sit you, she’s here to babysit Chris,” Roxanne patiently replied.

“We can take care of Chris, too,” Samantha retorted. “He’s easy to take care of.” Brianna nodded her agreement.

“Oh really?” Roxanne asked, “Does that mean you want to be responsible for feeding him?”

“Did it this morning,” Sammy answered. Bri elbowed her big sister in the arm. “With Bri’s help,” she added.

“Putting him down to bed?” Roxanne asked.

“I can do that, too.” Sammy crossed her arms.

“Change his diapers?” Roxanne cocked a knowing eyebrow. Brianna quickly backpedaled and shook her head no. Samantha stood stone still, and bit her lip, her cheeks beginning to blush. She didn’t say anything. Roxanne just stood with a self-satisfied smirk that only a parent can have when they’ve maintained dominance over their children.

“It’s not that your mom and dad don’t trust you,” Sherry spoke up breaking the tension. “It’s just that both of you are too young to drive and she doesn’t want you two to have to be responsible in a crisis situation.” Sammy tilted her head to the side, waiting for more. “In the highly unlikely event,” Sherry stressed, “that something bad happens, I’ll be able to drive to the hospital or call 911 and present whoever they send with proper identification. It’s an insurance thing, Sammy, you understand.”

Sammy shrugged her shoulders, and nodded. Apparently she did understand. She turned around to go back to her books.

“Can we have a hug before you go back to doing what you were doing?” Roxanne called out. Sammy turned around and gave each of her parents a hug before about facing once more.

“Bri, you too.” Doctor Cole said in a low reserved voice that brooked no argument. Brianna trudged over and gave each of her parents a bear hug. Doctor Cole let out and animated groan from the pressure, while Roxanne grunted a little bit in earnest.

“Our cell phone numbers are on the fridge and so is some pizza money for you and the girls.” Roxanne rattled off, “and Chris’s baby food is in the pantry. It’s the start of summer break so we don’t mind if the girls stay up late, but try and have Chris in bed by 8:00. He had a good bath yesterday and didn’t get too dirty, so you should be good as far as that’s concerned.”

Sherry nodded, as she walked over to the giant playpen where Chris was. Once again the pen mysteriously opened as she walked in, Chris still couldn’t tell where the latch was or where the gate was located. For all Chris could tell, Sherry might have walked in a different side of the playpen than Bri originally had.

Effortlessly, Sherry scooped her boyfriend up by the armpits, and Chris felt like he was sailing through the air till he found himself positioned easily on Sherry’s hip. One hand supported his back, while her other hand was under his bum, spreading the poop in his diaper around even more. While this had been too much to bear earlier in the day, Chris couldn’t help but feel aroused by this, and his penis became fully erect and hard. He resisted the urge to start dry humping Sherry right then and there.

Sherry carried Chris over to the door where his parents were waiting. His dad tousled Chris’s hair and said “Bye-bye champ. See you tomorrow,” and then gave an odd wink to his son…the kind of wink typically reserved for an older Chris going out on a date with Sherry. Then again, dad always was a card and a bit of a flirt and horn dog. Who’s to say Dr. Cole didn’t give similar “knock 'em dead, killer” looks to an infant Chris when left with a babysitter the first time around.

“Be good for Sherry, sweetie,” Roxanne said, “Mommy loves you,” Roxanne leaned over and gave an exaggerated “mmmmwah” kiss right on Chris’s cheek. Simultaneously, Sherry did the same thing to Chris’s other cheek and Chris found himself sandwiched in the middle of two of the most beautiful women he had ever met. Chris’s whole body was a tingle. He shuddered involuntarily and squeezed Sherry’s midsection with his thighs.

If Sherry’s body hadn’t been blocking his own crotch, he would have been rubbing himself right now. Suffice it to say, the oversized Pamper was feeling a lot smaller at this moment in time. The second his parents were out the door, Chris’s hormonal instincts kicked in and he found himself groping his girlfriend’s chest. He instantly felt the soft padding of her bra and squeezed, feeling the firmness of her breasts, smaller than Roxanne’s but firmer. Maybe he was flattering himself, but he swore he felt her nipple harden as he grasped at her.

Sherry took her hand off of Chris’s back and gently removed his hand. Without looking at him she said “Uh-uh, I’m not mommy.”

“Oh, but you are!” a horny adult-babied Chris exclaimed, knowing it would only come out as gibberish to her. He then copped himself another feel, only to have his hand quickly removed, then blocked when he tried a third time.

“Boys,” Sherry muttered to herself as she shook her head softly, “they all want the same thing at any age.” Chris was about to attempt grope number 4, when he found himself hoisted up slightly, now being forced to lean over Sherry’s shoulder. He felt a slight gust of air on the crack of his ass as Sherry pulled back the waistband of his diaper and looked down inside. His girlfriend was checking his diaper and finding it poopy! How many of his masturbation fantasies had started off like this? A lot, that’s how many!

“Thought so…” Sherry said to herself, “Bri? Sammy?” she called out. “Would one of you mind calling Dominoes while I change Chris?”

“Okiedokiefinokie,” Chris’s youngest sister called out, headed towards the kitchen, cordless phone snapped up in hand along the way.

Chris found himself being carried toward what was now his nursery, a low moan escaping his lips as they crossed the threshold.

“I know, I know” Sherry cooed.

“You honestly have no idea, Sherry.” Chris whispered back through clenched teeth. He was so hard right now, but was on that threshold between sexual frustration and sexual elation. The point between being aroused and making your move or just giving up and feeling a sense of disappointment and disturbance as your stiffy became a softie.

He began to drool slightly as Sherry laid him down on the changing table- his changing table- and pulled the stomach strap across him so she could change his diaper-his poopy, poopy diaper. He almost couldn’t stand it. Any guilt he had felt this morning when Roxanne was changing him had completely disappeared. It was one thing to be aroused by your father’s wife, but your own girlfriend was completely fair game in the sexual fantasy department. Chris balled up his fists and brought them to his chest while he splayed his legs out and bent his knees a little, practically putting his diaper on display. His posture resembled a dog begging to have its tummy rubbed as much as a toddler ready to be changed.

The floorboards squeaked as an intruder entered the room. “Hey Sherry,” Samantha interrupted her big baby brother’s reverie. “Just making sure, thin crust pepperoni okay?”

“That’s fine,” Sherry nodded, as she bent over and grabbed baby wipes, baby powder, and a fresh diaper from underneath the table.

“Yeah, it’s fine, Sammy, see you later,” Chris called out hoping his little sister would leave the room before the good part started. But Sammy didn’t move. She just eyed Chris on the changing table, then looked to Sherry, then back to Chris, then back to Sherry again. She was waiting for something.

“Can I help?” Sammy blurted out. Chris and Sherry both answered at the exact same time. Unfortunately Sherry’s “Sure,” more than countered Chris’s “NO!” which probably sounded to their ears like “GAH!” Chris’s eyes widened as he realized he was about to be part of a demonstration for his little sister. She was going to be able to see his…his…he couldn’t even finish the thought.

“First thing’s first,” Sherry said, handing the diapering supplies over to Samantha. “I know he’s got a poopy diaper, but I don’t know if he’s wet it or not. This is super important for boys because they might accidentally pee on you in the middle of the change. So I like to even my odds by checking to see if they’re out of ammo.” Sammy listened intently. Chris just blushed. He sought comfort in the only way available to him. He started gently sucking his thumb to hide his embarrassment.

“Now, the stuff in diapers make them swell up like a sponge after they’ve been peed in,” Sherry went on, “so an easy way to check is to squeeze the front of their diaper and see if it squishes or crinkles. If it crinkles in the front, it’s dry, if it squishes its wet.” Chris bucked slightly as Sherry squeezed the front of his diaper, rubbing up against her hand. That wasn’t intentional, Chris swore…but he couldn’t help himself. If his erection had any chance of going away before, it had just lost that chance; little sister or not. Chris sucked a little harder on his thumb and blushed a little more.

“Another easy way to check is to stick two fingers in the leggings of the diaper and feel around a little.” Chris eeped a little as his girlfriend demonstrated the proper technique. The warmth of her hand so near his cock made him moan a little bit. His eyes looked towards his sister who was watching intently, making notes in her head like he took notes during college lectures. He felt so ashamed but couldn’t stop himself.

“It looks like he’s dry right now,” Sherry announced, “but we’re not out of the woods yet. A lot of babies prefer to poop in otherwise clean diapers. I can’t tell you how many times my mom changed my little brother’s wet diaper only to have him poop as soon as he was in a clean diaper-”

“-And vice versa?” Sammy finished the thought.

“Yup,” Sherry nodded. “And a lot of times, the feeling of fresh air hitting a boy’s penis will make him pee. So we’re gonna take some precautions. Okay?”

“Kay kay,” Sammy agreed.

“Here’s a trick my mom taught me for changing diapers,” Sherry said as she lifted Chris’s legs and still-diapered bum in the air. “Unfold that fresh diaper and slide it under.” While Sammy could have no doubt single handedly unfold a normal diaper, she had to put down the box of wipes and baby powder on the floor as she clumsily unfolded the oversized diaper and slid it under Chris’s bottom. Her nose wrinkled slightly from the smell as she got closer to the business end of Chris’s Pampers. Sherry glanced over and inspected Sammy’s work.

“You slid it in backwards,” Sherry giggled as she rotated the unfolded diaper around. “See the little tapes?” she pointed, “they’re the back of the diaper.” She finally eased Chris’s still dirty-diaper clad bottom down onto the new one. She quickly reached down between Chris’s legs and pulled the diaper up between them. “The part with Big Bird on it is the front of the diaper”, Sherry lectured, “it’s also kind of the target zone for where the tapes go.” Chris’s brow furrowed in distress. Were they going to double diaper him instead of changing him? A cocked eyebrow from Samantha seemed to ask the same thing. Sherry pulled the front of the diaper back down.

“Now that we’ve got the new diaper under him and ready to go, if he starts peeing, all we have to do is reach up and close the diaper. Got it?” Sherry asked. Sammy just nodded as she picked the box of baby wipes back up.

“Now we’ve got our setup, time for the icky part.” Sherry announced, as she un-taped the sides of Chris’s soiled diaper. She pulled the front of soiled diaper back and Chris once again found himself ass up in the air with his feet pointed towards the ceiling. “You can get a lot of the bulk out of the way by using the inside front of the old diaper,” Sherry instructed, and demonstrated. Chris eyes bulged as he felt the poop being wiped off him, his erection still not flagging even as he was naked in front of someone who’d had no business seeing him that way. Chris sucked his thumb even harder, building up a steady rhythm to soothe himself.

“Then you use the wipes,” Sherry said. Sammy looked a little surprised herself. “I mean the general ‘you’, sheesh” Sherry smirked, “You just hold the box and I’ll do the real dirty work.” Chris felt completely helpless as his butt was wiped by his girlfriend. He tried to close his eyes but each cold wipe to his cheeks only made his eyes pop back open. He could feel Sherry’s tender hands with each stroke. Chris feared he might suck out his thumbnail if this didn’t stop soon. His whole body was blushing red from embarrassment. Then it got worse.

“Um…” Sammy said, pointing with her eyes, “should we be worried, about…that?”

“What?” Sherry asked, still wiping her boyfriend’s bottom. Then her eyes followed Sammy’s to Chris’s bulging erection. “You mean his little pee-pee? Oh that’s no big deal.” Chris wanted to crawl into a hole and die right there. “That just means he likes this, don’t ya buddy?” she addressed Chris. “He doesn’t really know what it means. He can’t help it.” Tears started to form up in Chris’s eyes. Well, she was half right, anyways.

Never once did either girl take their eyes off of his nakedness. It was just too intense, too humiliating. Then he felt a cold wipe probe his groin, cock and balls. Chris practically screamed into his thumb. Even with the equivalent of a cold washcloth being dragged across his privates he couldn’t stop the rush of blood to his genitals, knowing that Sherry’s hand was less than a millimeter behind the wipe.

“Then you just ball the old diaper up, and use the tapes to keep it closed” Sherry continued her lesson, “and toss it away.” Sammy shrieked and dropped the wipes as a dirty diaper came flying into her arms. “Just throw it away. We’ll both wash our hands after this.” Sammy frantically complied and placed the soiled thing in the diaper genie next to the changing table. “Now hand me the baby powder.”

“This next part is optional but it helps with chafing and makes the baby smell better,” Sherry explained, “practically a must after a poopy diaper change.” With that Sherry liberally applied the powder to his diaper area and smoothed it with her hand, including a firm grab of his penis. Oh god. Chris could no longer breathe through his nose, and swore he could feel his pulse throb through his cock. “Then it’s just a matter of pulling the front of the diaper up between his legs,” she did so, “and taping it on.” Finally. Chris was practically hyperventilating now.

Out of nowhere, Sherry gave his padded crotch a firm pat and declared that he was “all done.” That did it. That was all it took. Chris writhed on the padded table, as hot cum erupted from his penis and spilled into the front of his new diaper. It came in short spasms and spurts, and Chris felt a glow of relief wash over him, followed immediately by a wash of guilt. Ewww…ewwww…what kind of freak was he? Almost immediately, his dick began to soften and become flaccid. He took his thumb out of his mouth now that it was over.

“Why is he squirming like that?” Samantha asked, obviously having noticed Chris’s orgasm.

“Oh he’s probably just a little antsy.” Sherry concluded, “it’s usually doesn’t take this long to change him, but I deliberately slowed down so I could show you.” Deflated, defeated, and mortified beyond belief, Chris went limp (in more ways than one) and allowed himself to be carried by Sherry out of the nursery and into the kitchen. He was barely aware of being strapped into his highchair and the feed tray being clicked into place.

Chris was absolutely lost in a labyrinth of thought as Sherry fed him spoonful after spoonful of pureed peas and mashed bananas. A line had been crossed in Chris’s mind, and he wasn’t sure if he liked it. Sure, he liked it; but he wasn’t sure if he liked that he liked it. There was definitely something sexual about his fetish, but the fact that it wasn’t at all sexual for the other participant, namely his girlfriend made him feel less like he had had a sexual encounter and more like he had just…well…jazzed in his pants. Damn, there was something wrong with him. The fact that Sammy, his kid sister, had watched the entire ordeal with rapt attention made him feel even worse.

Chris accepted the bottle of baby formula from Sherry’s outstretched hands, and suckled without comment. The creamy over sweet stuff rolled down his throat, and gave him enough of a sensation that he was at least able to get out of his own head for a minute. Sherry’s hands disappeared underneath the tray of the highchair and his pulse quickened as she slipped two fingers into his diaper. Damn his libido.

“Dry enough,” she declared. In short order, Chris found his mouth being wiped, the tray being removed, and him being taken out of his high chair and into Sherry’s arms. Some firm pats on his back made him belch involuntarily as Sherry paced with him on the kitchen’s linoleum floor. “That’s a good boy,” she praised after each burp. He was spent; done and didn’t even bother to look up as the new stimulus of a doorbell ringing intruded on him, followed immediately by calls of “I’ll get it,” from the girls.

“Thank you!” Sherry waved at the pizza delivery guy while Bri and Sammy in short order ran to the door, snatched the pizza out of the guy’s hands, smacked a fistful of cash down in his palm and then slammed the door shut.

“You guys wanna watch a movie on Netflix?” Sherry asked, toting her boyfriend over to the couch. Both children nodded enthusiastically as they put a box of pizza right on the coffee table and proceeded to dig in, no plates no napkins, no nothing.

Soon enough, Chris was sitting in Sherry’s lap, being cuddled on the couch while they all watched a PG-13 movie about children fighting to the death in a futuristic dystopia. “Hey, it’s Summer, and I won’t tell if you won’t,” Sherry made a promise to the elementary-schoolers.

“What 'bout Chris?” Bri grunted the question.

“Oh he definitely won’t tell.” Sherry said not missing a beat. They all had a decent chuckle at that. Chris for his part felt too worn out and defeated to object or feel offended or much of anything other than vulnerable.

He eased into Sherry’s soft body, and she coddled him with one arm while gingerly eating pizza with the other. He turned his head to the side, watching the movie out of the corner of his eye while he used her breasts as a sort of pillow. This was a strange delight, he admitted to himself. Normally, she’d be leaning into him, and if anything she’d be in his lap. He’d be the big strong man protecting her from the world.

The sudden role reversal gave him a strange amount of comfort and security. He squirmed slightly to adjust from time to time, but Sherry didn’t seem to mind it. Maybe protection was something everybody wanted.

Then something caught Chris’s eye. Bri, her usual animated and greedy self, had taken the last, biggest piece of pizza out of the box; its contents overflowing with the cheese and grease of its departed brethren.

“I’m a baby bird.” She remarked as she tilted her head back, mouth opened wide and attempted to lower the piece of pizza down into her mouth like it was Boba Fett and she a Sarlacc pit. Plop! The cheese slid right off and now Briana’s face was coated with the stuff. She looked like Pizza the Hutt.

“Arg!” She yelled in frustration and embarrassment, wiping the cheese and pepperoni from her face and manically throwing it back into the box, a barren slice of bread and tomato sauce all that was left. “Tewey! Puh-tewey!” she cartoon emphasized each spit as she ran to the kitchen to get a napkin to wipe her face.

Chris giggled. Then he chuckled. Then he chortled. Then his body was shaking with laughter at the sight of his youngest sister, covered in meat and cheese and sauce. “I’m a less messy eater than you, Bri!” Chris called out as her footsteps echoed back from the kitchen.

Bri took it all in stride as she sat down next to Sherry, and gingerly, without much resistance from Sherry, pulled her brother into her lap. “So, you like laughing do ya?” Brianna whisper-growled.

Chris’s eyes widened. “Uh-oh,” he gulped.

“WELL WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?!” She maniacally yelled as she dug her pudgy talons into Chris’s ribs and began tickling him mercilessly. Chris shrieked with laughter as he futilely struggled against his now big sister’s onslaught. He grabbed her wrists and tried to pull them away from him as he laughed, but they might as well have been made of dwarf star matter for all the good he was doing.

He spazzed and writhed trying to get free, his head falling into Sherry’s lap while he was still being tortured.

“Help…me…” he gasped in between torturous guffaws. Sherry only chuckled and politely covered her mouth. “Help…me…” he begged, clenching his jaw. “HelpmebeforeI….I….” too late. Chris felt the splish splash of urine erupt out of him as he involuntarily flooded his diaper. His crotch became wet and warm and the diaper was quickly swelling up. Tears came to his eyes.

“Uh…oh”. Bri pronounced, stopping her tickling. Gross. She had felt it too. It made sense, he had been sitting in her lap.

“Lemme check,” Sherry blithely said as she patted Chris’s padded crotch. “Yup….wet.” Chris’s blush returned full force. He couldn’t even keep his pants dry when being tickled. He felt so helpless, so limited, so incompetent…so…babyish.

“I can change him!” Sammy piped up with a little too much excitement. Chris’s hands immediately shot down to his crotch. No way. Uh-uh. He shook his head emphatically. Not again.

“That’s alright,” Sherry said, as she scooped Chris up out of a horrified Bri’s lap. “I’ve got him. I think it’s about bedtime for him anyways.” Bri for her part had stopped tickling and had thrown her hands up into the air the moment Chris had wet himself, as if trying to distance herself as much as possible.

Chris found his thumb on autopilot going towards his mouth as he was carried
back to the nursery and laid down on his changing table. There was almost no sensuality in Chris’s mind as Sherry wiped and re-diapered him, this time into a much thicker night-time diaper. Now the Sesame Street characters on his crotch were all wearing pajamas and night caps and his legs were splayed even further apart than usual.

“Night-night, Chris.” Sherry whispered as she lowered Chris into the crib. His crib, he thought, suddenly rather grimly. She handed him the stuffed bear at the foot of the bed. “Here’s your Wubby to keep you company.” She kissed him on the forehead, and walked out of the nursery, closing the door behind her.

Chris, suddenly in a dour mood at tonight’s turn of events, glared at his teddy bear. Wubby, for his part, stared back, a slight smile stitched on his lips. “Hmmph,” Chris muttered, “too much dumb baby stuff. I didn’t even get any pizza.” In a tired tantrum, Chris threw his old childhood toy over the railing and out of the crib, before turning his head in the other direction and shutting his eyes.

In the darkness, Wubby’s black eyes suddenly became a mismatched pair of gems- one red and one blue. As sleep claimed Chris, the gems twinkled a bit.

Re: College or Cribs

College or Cribs: Chapter 8- Day After.

Christopher Cole IV woke blearily as sunlight streamed through his windows. His eyes didn’t flutter as much as they creaked open, like an old door that didn’t have enough oil on the hinges. He rubbed the sand and gunk out of his eyes and stretched like a full body stretch before taking stock of the room.

There he was, in his room, not the nursery, in all of its bland college student moved in just for the summer glory. So it had all been just a dream. Chris sighed to himself. It had been a bizarre and at some points nightmarish yet oddly wonderful dream, but it was just a dream.

Chris allowed himself a rueful half-smirk as he tossed the covers off. His bladder was full and he really had to pee. He went to the bathroom attached to his room, and relieved himself accordingly. He opened the front of his pajama pants, just in case, and verified that yes, his body did have the correct amount and density of hair. A look in the mirror and at his arms, confirmed this, and he even had the makings of a patchy beard growing in. Not bad for one night’s growth.

Something struck him as odd though as he groggily tromped down the stairs to go to the kitchen of his Dad’s and Roxanne’s house. He could have sworn he had gone to bed naked. Yet here he now was, in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of cereal, wearing a plain t-shirt and pajama bottoms; perfectly presentable for family and close friends first thing in the morning.

“Hiiiii,” his sisters lazily called out to him from the living room, as he rummaged around the silverware drawer for a spoon.
“Morning,” Chris called back as he walked over to join them. Sammy and Brianna were sharing a love seat in the family room. Sammy, unsurprisingly was reading a book, something more about talking cats. Brianna was doodling on a sketch pad, copying pictures out of the how-to-draw art book she had gotten from the library yesterday. Chris’s subconscious was buzzing at that thought, but Chris pushed it aside.
If Bri were on the couch- drawing and not monopolizing the television for all it was worth- that could only mean a stronger more monopolizing person was in the room. Chris glanced at the TV, saw that it was tuned to ESPN, and groggily shuffled to behind the big easy-chair that no one else touched.

“Morning dad,” Chris called out to Dr. Cole.

“Good afternoon,” his dad said lackadaisically. Chris glanced behind him at the clock on the wall. It was indeed, 12:30 in the afternoon. Chris moved out from behind his dad’s easy chair and took a seat on the couch, bowl of cereal in his lap, crunching greedily.

“How was your date?”, Dr. Cole inquired.

“Haven’t gone on it yet,” Chris answered between bites.

“Oh?” Dr. Cole cocked an eyebrow in question.

“Yeah, had to push it back”, Chris said, his eyes more focused on the latest talking head sports caster. “Family stuff, quality time with them.”

“I thought she would have gotten all of that out of the way the day before,” Dad said, also making more eye contact with the people on the television than with Chris. This wasn’t an interrogation after all, just idle chit-chat; father to son, man to man.

“Me too,” Chris started sipping the milk out of his cereal bowl. He closed his eyes and let the creamy milk slide down his throat. “It was kinda my fault, for not knowing anyway. I didn’t charge my phone up enough.” Chris got an annoyed grunt from his father for that one. Dr. Christopher Cole III M.D. was not one to repeat himself, so when he wanted to nag you about something he’s nagged at before, he just made his annoyance known with a grunt.

That was all it took for the man to unnerve you. He was like a god in that way in that he only needed to make his displeasure known. He was charismatic despite his typically withdrawn demeanor and soft spoken nature. You just WANTED to impress him.

“So,” Chris asked, trying to change the subject, “did your date with Roxanne go well at least?” This made Dr. Cole sit up, slowly, and turn his head, slowly, and regard his son.

“What are you talking about, Chris?” his father said, brow furrowed and eyes narrowed in questioning and suspicion. “I was at work all last night. Roxanne was here with the girls, babysitting them.” Sammy’s head popped out of from behind her book and she opened her mouth to protest. Dr. Cole didn’t even have to turn his head around for Sammy to think better of protesting and closing it.

Chris shook his head quickly to clear the cobwebs out. “Sorry, I knew that. I think I just had a really strange dream last night,” Chris explained. Dr. Cole regarded him. “Like, you know when you dream you’re having a fight with someone and you wake up angry at them and it takes a few minutes for you to remember the whole fight was a dream? I think I dreamt you two went out on a date.”

Chris’s father leaned back in his easy chair, relaxing. “Now, if I had known that your date had been canceled,” Chris’s dad remarked taking on a slightly accusatory tone, “I could have likely gotten someone to take my shift down at the hospital, and left you here with the girls-just in case-” he added before Sammy could react, “then yes, I COULD have gone on a date with Roxanne. But that’s not how things played out last night.” Chris shrunk down.

Dr. Cole then just shrugged. “But, oh well. It was your night out after all, even if it wasn’t your night out with Sherry. Can’t blame you for taking it.” Dr. Cole smiled softly, and returned his full attention to the T.V. screen. That was that, it seemed.

Chris got up, very calmly put his dish in the sink for Roxanne to wash later, and then hurried up the stairs to his room. Something was wrong here, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He closed the door softly behind him, sat down at his computer desk and then logged on to g-chat. Sherry was there, but her icon bubble was “yellow” which could mean anything from “I’m away from my computer, but you can leave a message,” to “if I don’t feel like talking to you in particular, I’m going to pretend to be away from my computer.”
He messaged her.

Colev4.0: You there?
SunnySher: Yup!
SunnySher: Good morning!
Colev4.0: Morning
Colev4.0: How are you?
SunnySher: Good. You?
Colev4.0: Good.
Colev4.0: Still pickin’ you up at 6:00?
SunnySher: What?
Colev4.0: Our date.
SunnySher: Sorry. Can’t tonight.
SunnySher: Mom and dad want to spend some more quality time. This time, little bro is tagging along. I hope I was never that annoying when I was an 8th grader.
Colev4.0: Oh.
SunnySher: Last night was really great, though. Thanks for the good time. 

Chris sat back from his computer screen. He had had a date for tonight, not yesterday. Yesterday, she had used the family stuff to get out of a date. Was this some passive aggressive way to break up with him; Refuse dates till he gave up? But if that was the case, why was she saying thank you.

Colev4.0: ……What’d I do?
SunnySher: Nothing too outrageous or special. You were just really cuddly last night while we were watching that movie. Normally, I’m the one who has to cuddle up to you, so it was a nice change of pace.
Colev4.0: Huh?
SunnySher: You don’t remember, do you?
Colev4.0: ::shakes head::
SunnySher: That’s alright. You looked really sleepy. I think you might’ve even fallen asleep during the movie. Glad you made it home ok.
Colev4.0: Yeah. Me too.
SunnySher: See you first thing tomorrow?
Colev4.0: Sure
SunnySher: Promise?
Colev4.0: Promise.
SunnySher: Think Roxanne will let me surprise you and get you out of bed?
Colev4.0: Is it really a surprise if you’re asking me?
SunnySher: You know what I mean.
Colev4.0: Yeah. Roxanne likes you and trusts me. As long as the door is closed after you barge in and we’re not caught doing anything….we wouldn’t want to get caught doing, I don’t think she’ll care if you come and tear the covers off my bed. See me in my undies. :wink:
SunnySher: Tighty Whitiys or boxers?
Colev4.0: Which do you prefer?
SunnySher: Tighty Whiteys.
Colev4.0: Done. Love ya!
SunnySher: Love ya too!

Chris pushed himself back from his computer, content and already fantasizing about what tomorrow morning might be like. A whole day with Sherry, starting from being woken up in bed. He’d have to stay up extra late tonight, so that he’d sleep so deeply that Sherry would surprise him. Oh that would be hot.

But that didn’t solve Chris’s initial problem. He wasn’t supposed to see Sherry tomorrow, he was SUPPOSED to see Sherry today. Tonight, in fact. A 6:00 pm sharp. The only time he had seen Sherry so far was in his dream. His ridiculous, fetish laden wet dream in which he had gone to bed naked, woke up in a diaper, spent the whole day being treated as an infant, been put to bed an infant and then woke…

Up….

In…

Pajamas.

He went to bed naked, then woke up in pajamas.

Chris immediately checked the date online. Part of him wished he hadn’t. He had skipped a day. He had skipped a whole day sleeping, or rather, he had spent a whole day in a dream in which everyone else had thought he was awake. Or rather rather, he had dreamt spending a day as a baby, but everyone else remembered it as any other day. Or rather rather rather, he had gone to sleep naked, woken up in a fantasy world where he was treated as a baby, gone to sleep in said fantasy world, woken up in reality where no one remembered the fantasy coming true except for him, and instead remembered yesterday as a mundane everyday kind of day where he would do what the adult version of him would have done anyways. Chris then promptly went cross eyed from over-analysis.

There had to be a mistake. There just had to be. But Chris checked every news site he could find. It was in fact two days from the time where Chris had gone to sleep in his room, woken up in a giant baby’s room the next day, gone to sleep and woken up back in his own room.
Now what?

Re: College or Cribs

:slight_smile:

more please!

Re: College or Cribs

College or Cribs: Chapter 9- Wubby
Chris blinked blankly at his computer screen; checking and double checking the date. There were no doubts about it; somewhere down the line, Chris had lost a day. What? The? Hell?

How could he explain this phenomenon? Yesterday he could have sworn that he was being carried around in diapers on his step-mother’s hip, sitting in high chairs, sleeping in a crib, being breast and bottle fed, and not one damn person understanding a word he was saying for good or ill.

Was it magic? Nah. Drugs? Possibly, but Chris didn’t remember doing anything illicit- as a general rule he didn’t do drugs for fear that it would loosen his tongue too much and he’d end up confessing his fetish to people who didn’t need to know about his fetish, (aka anyone who knew his real name and that he had to interact with by looking them in the eye or speaking directly to them.) Drugs was also probably out of the mix because as far as everyone else seemed to be concerned, Chris behaved normally and unremarkably yesterday. Tweekers and people rolling on acid tended to draw attention to themselves.

Psychotic break or fugue state? That made more sense than most theories. Maybe his paranoia about getting caught had merged with his subconscious desires to the point where he more or less sleep walked (slept walked? Whatever the past tense of “sleep walk” was) through the day. Maybe his body went through the regular everyday motions, while his mind concocted weird and elaborate stories based around his desires. Kind of like in “I Am the Cheese”, or “Fight Club”. A plausible enough explanation, but it just didn’t feel right to Chris. It didn’t taste like the truth. But then what had made his FAP Fantasy (FAPtasy, heh), come true?

The hairs on the back of Chris’s neck stood up. He got the rather ominous feeling that he was being watched. He swiveled around on his chair, eyes searching the room. Nothing. The only thing in sight was his old Teddy Bear, Wubby, sitting upright on his neatly made bed. Wubby’s ruby and sapphire eyes twinkled briefly as Chris studied his old childhood keepsake.

“Wait a minute,” Chris thought out loud. “I don’t make my bed.” His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t make my bed at all.” Chris opened his door and stuck his head out of the window.

“Roxanne?” Chris called out.

“Yeah?” His step-mother called back from down stairs.

“Did you make my bed?” Chris asked, trying to piece together the puzzle.

“Ha!” Roxanne called back.

“Just checking,” Chris shook his head, before closing the door to his bedroom. He did a double take when he realized that Wubby was looking at him. He could have sworn that Wubby was facing his computer, not the door. Chris shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs out. “Wait a minute…”

Chris ran down the stairs, a realization popping into his head. Bri was still sitting on the couch, doodling sketches from her art book. Dad was still watching ESPN in his favorite easy chair.

“BRI!” Chris practically shouted now that the realization had dawned on him. Bri looked up from her art book.

“Hrn…WHAAAAT!” His youngest sister growled back in one of her funny voices. Dr. Cole shot them both a warning look. Game time was not to be interrupted by his children screaming for no reason.

“You got that book from the Library yesterday, right?” Chris asked. Briana’s eyes searched Chris, as if looking for some kind of joke or trick in the question. When she could find none, she merely grunted and nodded her head questioningly.

“AND DAD!” Chris burst out, then shrank in his skin a little as Dr. Cole turned an unsmiling and not amused expression towards him. “we had leftover chicken yesterday for lunch…?” Chris choked back and stage whispered. Chris’s father mirrored his sister’s earlier expression of confused confirmation.

“Yes…wh-” was all Dr. Cole had managed to get out before Chris animatedly dashed out of the living room toward Samantha’s bedroom. Chris ran to Sammy’s room and hurriedly turned the knob to open it. Samantha was always had the better memory for little details out of his two siblings. The knob clicked in place as Chris unsuccessfully tried to open the door. Locked.

“Just a second!” Sammy called from behind her door. The door opened a crack and Samantha poked her head out. “What’s up?” she asked, looking slightly preoccupied and emitting a vibe that screamed “PLEASE DON’T COME IN AND JUST GO AWAY!” Sisters…go figure.

“HeySammyquickquestiondidIcomewithyouguystothelibrary?!” Chris blurted out. Sammy paused for a second and shook her head as she decoded Chris’s hyper-speech.

“Uh…nooooo.” Sammy said. “Why?”

“Not important,” Chris said catching his breath and slowing his heart down.
“Just a few more questions and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Kay kay, but make it quick, commercials are almost over,” Sammy replied regaining some of her composure and opening the door a little bit. Out from behind the door, Chris could see Sammy’s bed sheets in a rumpled pile on the floor, the little TV in her bedroom was on Nickelodeon, (judging by the screen shots of iCarly), and in general the room was a mess. Roxanne would not be happy if she saw this.

“Did your mom run into some grown up friend of hers at the library?” Chris asked, nervously biting his lip.

“Uh, yeah?” Sammy answered.

“And did the lady have a little girl with her, like a pre-schooler?” Chris pressed.

“Uh-huh…?” Sammy looked at her big brother quizzically.

“And I’m betting your mom stopped to talk with her, said she’d meet up with you in the kid’s section-”

“-Young-” Sammy interrupted

“- Young Adult section, my bad,” Chris finished the thought. “And she corrected herself before you had the time to tell her?” Sammy looked at Chris in confused and shocked silence. “And Bri found you with her art book while you were reading a warrior cat book?”

“How did-?” was all Samantha was able to sputter out before Chris, his mind racing, sprinted out back toward his bedroom. Holy crap! Holy crap! Holy crap! Something HAD happened. No way Chris could have imagined that or made that up. Chris had experienced the previous day infantilized-literally-but now that his world was back to normal, everything was as it would have been had he been his normal age. Which is why he knew about the library trip but no one else remembered him being there. Because normally Chris would be out enjoying his freedom, but Roxanne wouldn’t have left a baby alone at the house. But regardless, Roxanne would have likely run into her old friend with the little girl, Sammy would be found sitting while reading her cat book, and Bri would still plop down with the art book she found! BUT HOW?! HOW HAD ALL THIS OCCURRED? (As smart as he was, Chris never was particularly good at taking hints.)

“Chris…?” Dr. Cole called out to his son as Chris sprinted for his room. Chris came to a skidding halt at his father’s voice. “I know Roxanne cleaned out the attic, but would you mind not leaving this old baby crap around the house? Sentimental value only goes so far.” Chris’s dad pointed to the love seat where a stuffed bear with twinkling beads for eyes sat conspicuously. “It’s bad enough when the girls do it with their stuffed animals.” Chris’s dad didn’t need to finish that thought, not that he had the chance.

Chris sprinted out of the room and raced up the stairs. He raced into his room, slammed the door and pressed his back against it panting heavily. Sitting there on his perfectly made bed, waiting for him, staring at him, was Wubby. Chris shoved his fist into his mouth to muffle the panicked scream that escaped his throat.

Chris grabbed the comforter on top of his bed and yanked it with all of his might, sending the sheets tumbling to the floor. Like a classic magician’s trick though, Wubby stayed put even as the sheets were pulled out from under him; arms open waiting for Chris to hug him, his mismatched eyes twinkling. Freaked out, yet determined, Chris picked up the bear with both hands and marched to his bedroom window. Arms outstretched like he was holding a bomb, he opened the window and chucked Wubby out of the second story window, watched the bear bounce off the first story roof, down onto the lawn, roll out into the street and then be run over by a car.

Chris shut the window, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around. There was Wubby, sitting in perfectly pristine condition, red and blue eyes sparkling with mischief. Chris suddenly had a very good feeling of what it was like to be the bad guy in a Droopy cartoon; you know, the ones where no matter how far away the villain ran, there was Droopy right behind him? Yeah…it wasn’t so funny when it was happening to you.

Chris threw himself to the floor in a heap, curling into the fetal position. He was hyperventilating before he knew it. “Magicisrealmagicisrealmagicisrealmagicisreal…” he kept whispering to himself.

“Chris?” called Roxanne through the door. “Are you alright?” Chris swallowed hard and clutched the stuffed bear to his chest. It gave him enough control to breathe normally.

“Yeah,” Chris yelled back. “I’m okay. Everything’s perfectly alright now, we’re fine, we’re all fine…here…now, thank you. How are you?”

“Okay…just checking,” Roxanne called back, the sound of doubt obvious in
her voice.

Chris waited till he heard her go down the stairs. He looked down at Wubby, suddenly in his arms and looked him in the face. “That was a close one,” he whispered conspiratorially to his childhood toy. Then the reality of the situation hit him.

“GAH!” Chris yelped as he flung his toy bear back on to the bed. HOW THE FUCK HAD THAT GOTTEN THERE?! This was just too much for the young man. “My stupid stuffed animal is magic and it turned me into a giant baby yesterday!” Chris whispered on the verge of hysterics. Then the thoughts began to process into a different direction. “My stupid stuffed animal is magic and it turned me into a giant baby yesterday.” this time with dawning realization. “MY stupid stuffed animal is MAGIC and it turned ME into a GIANT BABY yesterday!” Chris went over to the bed and picked Wubby up and spun in a circle with him in his arms.

He smiled a big idiot’s smile as he kissed Wubby on his button nose, the glittering gem eyes winking back at him whimsically. This wasn’t a bad thing. This was a gift. He had steeled himself for an entire summer off the grid from his fetish. He had committed himself to a 3 month long purge of all of his adult baby stuff and relegated that side of himself into the super-do not read file of his brain. But instead, he’d been given this incredible gift. Instead of a purging of his adult baby self, he could potentially have a 3 month long ultimate binge. And the best part is, no one would ever know. They’d all just remember him doing his regular normal stuff.

“Wubby, I am SO sorry about throwing you out of the crib last night,” Chris said, tears of happiness streaming down his cheeks. “If I had connected the dots faster, I’d have cuddled with you all night, little buddy!” Chris started giggling maniacally, just imagining the possibilities, the wonderful, wonderful, guilt free, consequence free possibilities.

He could breast feed, he could be diapered 24/7 for days or weeks on
end, he could play dumb baby games, tease and annoy his little (check that…make that big) sisters with his girlfriend babysitting him, and in general have no responsibilities whatsoever. Best of all, he thought he figured out the pattern. Every time he fell asleep with Wubby, he woke up as a baby, naptime included, but as soon as he had rejected the bear, play time was over. That meant that if he ever got tired of eating mush or being unable to drive, all he had to do was separate himself from his baby toy and the adult world would come rushing back and fill in the blanks for him. KICK ASS!

The only downside to this whole realization was that it required sleep. He literally spent hours pacing his bedroom, only coming downstairs to grab some food and retreat back up to his room. He kept glancing at the time on his computer. Come on…COME ONE! Time just couldn’t speed up fast enough.

Overwhelmed and frustrated beyond belief, Chris finally left his bedroom and his dad’s house and got into his car a little before sundown, driving off and out of the neighborhood. He couldn’t wait to bring his fantasy about again, and so decided and was determined that he wouldn’t have to. Chris drove to the business district and pulled into the parking lot of a CVS pharmacy.

Chris got out of his car, speed walked into the store and made a bee line for the incontinence section. He licked his lips out of nervousness as his eyes. Crap…crap…crap…so many of the products were basically just absorbent underwear designed to look like regular briefs. But he didn’t have the time to wait for the custom internet stuff…and that stuff was nothing more than a cheap imitation of what he had worn yesterday anyways. Chris sighed and yanked a package of “adjustable briefs” off the shelf and then went and got a bottle of extra strength Tylenol P.M. His last stop was at the greeting card section where he quickly picked out a “Happy 40th Birthday” Card. It explained the Depends as a gag gift, so that the cashier didn’t ask too many questions. Paranoid, yes? But thorough all the same. Hestill got a strange look from the cashier though….

Chris quickly paid for his things and sped off into the night. On the way home, he was feeling a little hungry, having only subsisted on chips and the like. So he pulled through a McDonald’s drive through. Feeling a little childish, he ordered himself a Happy Meal- with water- no sugar or caffeine to keep him awake- and wolfed down the burger and fries before he was even halfway home.

Pulling back into his house, with a Walgreens bag containing a package of Depends, Chris quietly opened the door and slinked upstairs to his room, careful not to make too much noise or draw any attention to himself. Fortunately, luck, and Wubby, seemed to be on his side.

He closed the door behind him, and nodded to Wubby on the bed. “Hey Wubby,” he whispered. “Ready to get the party started?” Chris locked his door and walked over to his private bathroom. He took off his shirt and dropped his pants and underwear, “Oh crap,” Chris laughed to himself, “I just went out in my pajamas.” Chris had been so excited that he hadn’t realized. He must have looked like a crazy person.

Chris didn’t care though, since that part was over and done with. Chris carefully pulled up the adult undergarment standing up and clumsily taped the two tapes on each side closed. It fitted…okay…he guessed. It was nothing compared to having someone else diaper you, that was for sure, but that would be taken care of soon enough. Chris took the rest of the pack and hid it under his bathroom sink. He’d get rid of that evidence at the end of the summer or whenever he was done playing baby for real this time.

Next, Chris popped open the generic sleeping pills and popped a few. The recommended dose was two, so Chris took three. A little more than necessary perhaps, but nowhere near overdose level for an over-the-counter sleep-aid. With that accomplished, Chris waddled over to his bed, picked his covers off the floor and hopped in, cuddling Wubby and draping the sheets over himself. “This is gonna be so awesome” Chris thought as he sucked contentedly on his thumb. Sleep soon took him.

Chris woke up before he opened his eyes. He knew it was morning by the sounds of birds chirping and the slight light entering his nursery. His bladder felt full from sleeping. Chris didn’t even think twice as he let a deluge loose into his oversized Pamper. The warmth around his crotch felt good and made him feel very babyish. He popped his pruned thumb out of his mouth, having slept with it there all the previous night. His ears pricked up at the sound of Roxanne talking to someone in the distance. That was one of the good things about being a baby, no one expected you to be the first one up. Chris could hear footsteps approaching.

He rolled over slightly, grasping for the bars in his crib so he could look around. He clasped only empty air as he rolled out of bed. Chris eyes shot open as he hit the floor of his room. His upstairs room, not the nursery that in real life had been Bri’s room. He looked down and his jaw dropped in horror. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

Now Chris lay spread eagle on the floor of his bedroom, wearing only a bulky and very ADULT diaper that he had wet only moments before. Wubby lay on the bed, mismatched eyes smiling down at him. That’s when the door flung open and Sherry barged in, a smile on her face.

“Wakey wakey sleepy head!” she said……