The Marathon (Patreon)

Max had missed the deadline. And that sucked.

He’d spent the last few years as a social media influencer, gaining followers over his running persona. Max was the man who was going to run 25 marathons in 25 weeks.

It was an ambitious task, to say the least. Even the most seasoned of runners would tell you that recovery time is critical for these sorts of activities. Anytime you’re constantly running, your body is going to do weird things.

Max had dealt with his fair share of runny stool and the constant and urgent need to pee at all times (hydration is key to success, his coach would always say). But after the first ten weeks of running nonstop Max, had just about cleared things up. By week twenty, Max was an absolute pro and able to time his bathroom breaks during his races quite well.

Max ran into another problem around Week 22.

“Max,” his coach said over the phone after reviewing his training numbers. “Did you register for the 25th Marathon?”

Max, who was busy stretching his calves, glanced up at the phone. “Yeah, why?”

“Do you have the paperwork?”

“Yes,” Max jutted his chin to his computer. “I sent it over six months ago.”

“Right…” his coach could be heard typing on his computer. “I’m only seeing 24.”

Max stood up straight. “There’s no fucking way.”

But sure enough, he’d only registered for 24 races. The 25th, the exclusive Northern Marathon was… unregistered.

Max typed furiously on his computer. There had to be a late registration fee. These course operators always wanted money. He’d pay whatever he needed to to get in. Max realzied that if he couldn’t get in to his 25th Marathon, his sponsors might yank all the money they’d been giving him.

In fact, one running company had pretty much told him: You hit 25, and you’ve got a deal. They’d even bought a few of his registrations.

After hanging up from the coach, Max resolved that he’d email the race organizers and explain what happened. He was the 25 marathon guy. He had been on the Today Show after all. They’d have to let him in.

Only… three weeks later, no dice. Not only had the organizers told him no, the majority of the charities you could run and get an extra slot in the race were full.

“It’s a prestigious race,” one charity head said, shaking his head as Max looked glumly from across the conference room. “Our spots filed up months ago.”

Max slumped back into his chair and sighed. This was it. He’d lose his sponsors; he’d have to pay back the money. He was fucked.

As the conference room emptied, a brown-haired woman wearing thick glasses approached him. Sitting down at the chair next to him, she slid a business card in his direction.

“I know we couldn’t help you, but one of our partner organizations might be able to.”

Max looked at the card, flipping the matte white paper in his hands. The card said MTP App Solutions.

“What’s MTP?” Max asked.

“A tech company that specializes in making apps for indie developers.” The woman stood up and grabbed her tablet. “We’ve done some work with them. I know they’re looking for some more awareness this season. They’ve got some marathon tickets, and maybe you can get one from them. Their owner is very nice.”

Max nodded and thanked the woman profusely. A few days later, after leaving the building and making a phone call, Max was sitting across from a woman with striking red hair and a large bald man who was busy typing out notes on his phone.

“With over a million people watching and in attendance, this is the perfect opportunity for us to reach a larger audience,” the woman, who went by Laura, said excitedly.

But the man was less than impressed. “He’s not going to do it Laura. Your idea is too extreme.”

Max, who was too busy drooling over the potential marathon ticket, didn’t even bat an eye. “Trust me. I get it. I need this marathon to finish my sponsorship deal. What’s it going to take?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You do realize this is a two-day commitment.”

Max nodded quickly. They had outlined a proposal. He’d run with the marketing team on day one, and on day two, he could run his own race and post any PR he needed to finish his trek.

“Trust me. I’m all in. I get what you’re trying to say. New apps don’t stand a chance in the App Store. They should be given a chance, not subject to some corporate overlord.

Laura nodded and flashed a toothy smile in Max’s direction. “Just make sure you sign by midnight tonight so we can get things situated. If everything looks good, we’ll see you in a few days.”

Max nodded. His lawyer however, did not. After pointing out that a two-day commitment was a lot, he also had a problem with the day two uniform and the need for more clarity around the day-one marketing materials.

“What if they ask you to wear a Coffee Cup outfit?” His manager tossed the contract back across the table shook his head. “That would be horrible for you.”

“But it’s only the first day,” Max said, pulling out a pen and signing the contract. “The second day, I can run my race, regardless of the day before.” Max slid the contract back across the table. “Plus these MTP people said I don’t have to run on day one either. So odds are, I’ll just be handing out fliers or something.”

“It said you might not have to run,” Max’s manager shook his head. “Just make sure you can wear your running shoes. The sponsors paid for those.”

Max nodded. “You bet.” Then with an excited grin, “We’re gonna get 25 in 25.”

His manager scowled. “More like 26 in 25.”

***

The first day of the marathon came, and Max arrived at a townhouse in the city. He checked his phone one more time and typed in the code in the lockbox, and slid open the door.

The townhouse was bustling with energy. Unlike the crabby exterior, MTP Solutions was a bright office building where people with iPads and computers balanced in their arms were all speaking, moving and conducting business at once. MTP clearly had some serious financial backing.

Shocked out of his haze by a smiling woman next to a front desk, Max mentioned he was here for the pre-marathon briefing and was escorted to the second floor of the residence.

The bald man from the other day sat and two women who looked quite excited. There was a large box sitting in the center of the room and about three other people in the room. A fourth, a young woman joined them right before their hosts started speaking.

The woman, Francis, explained to them that the App Economy was owned by a bunch of tech oligarchs and that today they’d be working on advocating for the indie apps that don’t get a fair shake.

“You’re doing such a great service for small businesses that aren’t mainstream.” She went on to mention that apps like Fetlife, Mommy Time Plus, and even Tumblr suffered criticism on various app stores, which threatened their freedom of speech, and expression, but most of all, hurt the consumer's ability to connect with others. “We aren’t advocating for a break up of the America oligarchs,” Francis said, tossing her hair back. “Just for consumers to have the ability to connect. And today, you’ll help us with that. Today you’ll help us push baby apps to the finish line.”

The room clapped, and the other women began handing out the packages for everyone. A woman walked up to Max and the woman sitting next to him. “Which one of you wants to run first?”

Quizzically, Max and his new partner glanced at each other. “I guess I could run first,” Max said to his new partner who nodded.

“Great,” the woman handed the package to Max and escorted his new partner, Heather, to the back room. Before Max could look into the box, two women walked into the room and ushered him down to the main level to another room where a few mats were laid out on the floor. There were a few other people in the room looking quite upset.

“Are you going to put on your uniform?” One of the women asked, motioning to the box.

Max nodded and opened the box.

“There’s a changing area in the back if you need it.”

Max smiled and nodded. But his smile vanished when he saw what was inside the box. Inside was a tee shirt that was baby blue. It was simple enough and in a ringer style, where a white band on the sleeves and neck made things look retro. The back of the shirt had the word “BABY” on it as if it were a jersey.

Max assumed it was like this because of their whole thing. “Push baby apps to the finish line,” Max shook his head and frowned. When he pulled the shirt over his head, the crop top barely came down to his belly button. Underneath the tee shirt is what caused Max to panic slightly. Reaching into the box with a shaky hand, Max pulled out a large soft plastic square that was extra crinkly to the touch.

It was a very large diaper.

“I’m sorry, I think there’s some kind of mistake,” Max said to one of the women who was standing near the door. “I don’t need these.” He was blushing profusely. “I mean, if I did, it wouldn’t be a problem. But I don’t.”

Max was rambling at this point, but he couldn’t believe he was holding a product so infantile.

“I don’t think so. You’re Max right?” The woman looked at her clipboard and back at Max. “That’s part of your uniform today.”

Max’s face got hot.

“This is part of the uniform.” The woman was insisting.

“You’re not serious, are you?” Max asked.

“You’re not running first, so this is part of the uniform.”

Max was sweating at this point. “A crop top and a…” he couldn’t even say the word.

“The diaper Max?”

Max blushed.

“Do you need someone to put the diaper on for you?”

Max shook his head. “No, I can do it.”

Max went to the changing room and leaned against the wall. What the fuck was going on? There was no way he was going to wear a diaper on the marathon course. People would laugh at him. He could see it now, crinkling down the marathon course, looking like Tommy fucking pickles. There was no fucking way.

Max resolved to leave the diaper on the chair in the changing room and just blend in with everyone else. He pulled on his running shorts and proceed down the hallway to the front room. Standing there were three running strollers.

Already two of the runners were standing next to their various strollers, chatting around. Max couldn’t see who was in the strollers but figured they might be pushing around some kids who wanted to come along for the ride.

“Excuse me sir?” One of the women in the room said politely. “You’re not wearing your uniform.”

Max blushed again. “Oh it’s fine, I’ll just wear the shorts.”

The woman frowned. “No you’re not,”

“Ma’am I appreciate the concern but I’m fine.”

The woman shook her head. “You’re not going out there without your full uniform”

“What’s going on here?” Heather had entered the room. She too spotted a crop top that was bright pink with white borders on the neck and sleeves. No doubt it said baby.

It was for the first time that Max noticed how fit she was. For a runner she had nice curves that indicated she did more than just running. She had tied her hair up in a ponytail for the occasion and was now staring at the scene Max and his host were causing.

“Max won’t wear the required uniform,” the woman said.

Max scowled. “I’m wearing the shorts. That should be good enough.”

Max admitted to himself that he was panicking slightly. What if they made him wear the… diaper? What if he had to go out there wearing that infantile garment. People would laugh at him for sure. He’d never be able to live it down.

Max could see it now, walking next to Heather while wearing the diaper. More like waddling. She looked incredibly adult, while Max, the celebrity, looking incredibly baby. He didn’t like what that looked like in his mind. Max wouldn’t like it in real life either.

“Why can’t he just wear what he has on?” Heather asked much to Max's relief.

“It’s not the required uniform for this half of the race.” The woman with the clipboard held firm. “If he doesn’t wear the uniform, neither of you get paid and you won’t enter tomorrow's marathon as a participant. You’ll be free to leave.”

Fuck. If he didn’t wear the diaper, he’d be fucked for 25 for 25.

“It’s just hard to run in a diaper.” Max said stupidly in response.

Heather however was quiet. “Max. Come on, it’s just half a marathon.”

“Besides,” the woman with the clipboard motioned to the cart. “You won’t be running. You’re just along for the ride.”

Then it dawned on Max. The pushcart stroller thingy. They intended for him to sit in there.

“No…” Max’s throat went dry. “I don’t think…”

But Heather had suddenly become more aggressive. “Max, come on. We gotta do it. I need the money for this semester of college. Please Max?”

Max shook his head.

The woman with the clipboard simply smiled. “If you don’t do it Max, Heather will not get her scholarship. You have about sixty seconds to decide. We have to get moving.”

Max scowled.

But Heather spoke up. “He’ll do it. Max, won’t you.”

Max bilinked as Heather leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “I’ll run fast.”

Max blushed and then nodded. “Fine. For the first half. Then I’m out of the chair. Okay?””

The clipboard woman nodded and motioned for someone to come forward.

Two additional women who had been standing on the side of the room came forward and handed Max the diaper.

Max fumbled with it for a moment, realizing he didn’t know how to put it on. “I’ve never put one of these on before,” He said to the woman with the clipboard.

Someone in the room yelled that they had thirty seconds.

The woman with the clipboard snapped her fingers. “Girls, help him please.”

In an instant, one of the women began tugging on his running shorts, exposing Max’s genitals. The other one encouraged him to lay back onto the floor while the room continued on as if this was normal.

Max was breathing hard, trying not to cry. He was embarassed. His face was hot.

Max soon found himself facing the ceiling while the women went to work. They lifted up his legs and slid the thick padding underneath. He felt a slight sprinkling of powder as the diaper was applied to him, followed by a tightening along his waist. What was remarkable was that before the diaper went on Max, one of the women pointed his limp and embarrassed penis down and fastened the diaper over it. Soon the tapes where applied and the women helped him stand.

The diaper forced his legs open wider than he would have liked. It felt like a thick pair of briefs between his legs, constantly reminding him that he was diapered. The diaper was soft and not at all uncomfortable, but Max had a sinking feeling the copious amounts of water he had been drinking to prepare for this race, along with the fiber he’d been taking weekly was not going to sit well with him. Max hated the idea of having to untape the diaper and head to a porterpotty during the race. Would he have to hold the diaper in his hand while he peed, looking like an idiot.

Max shook his head in disgust.

“Come on Max, gotta get in the stroller, we have to go.”

Max glummly climbed into the giant running stroller and to his surprise, the woman from earlier leaned over him and began to strap down his arms into the car.

“Hey what are you…” but Max was cut off by a pacifier being placed in his mouth. The women strapped down his harms tight and left his legs free. Max was increasingly aware that the way the stroller was positioned his diaper was blatantly exposed so that there was no mistaking what he was wearing at all. How was he supposed to get up and use the bathroom if he was tied down in the crib.

As the stroller started rolling forward down the street, Max struggled hard. He was very much aware of his diaper crinkling as he hit every single bump along the way, very much aware that a very adult looking Heather pushed the cart, and very much aware that there was no way he could hold his bladder for the next 13.1 miles.

The only solace he could think of as he heard the noise of the marathon grow closer, was that in less than two hours, he’d be out of this chair and he’d be able to push the cart and get this over with.

***