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.