The Table - Part 4 (Patreon)

I didn’t want to move.

But I knew my legs would give out sooner or later if I didn’t stand up. Plus, I didn’t want to stay in this squatting position forever. While it was still early, some people were venturing to the coffee shop and squatting in the middle of the campus would attract attention.

I slowly stood up, my knees popping a little in the process. The irony of me having old man knees while standing up after pooping myself like a toddler wasn’t lost on me.

As I stood, I felt the mess redistribute itself in my diaper.

Thankfully, the sleeper locked on me kept things from getting too saggy.

Theresa put away her phone and smiled. “Next time you send one of those perverted messages, you’ll think twice.” She then looked me up and down with a satisfied smile.

“Give me the key,” I said quietly, ignoring everything she had just said. I tried to keep my voice calm. “Please.”

“I don’t have it,” Theresa said. “It’s in your dorm room.” She then got a severe look in her eyes. “Don’t email me again about your perverted diaper fantasies or I’m sending this video to everyone.”

I held up a meek hand in protest, but at this stage in the humiliation, I just wanted to go home.

What was the point of fighting?

Theresa had what she needed.

As Theresa walked off in the direction of the dining hall, I began to mushy trek to my dorm room. Each step reminded me of the infantile mess that clung to the back of my diaper and the humiliation she had just caused me.

This whole thing was bizarre. This whole situation was demeaning.

I felt defeated.

I just wanted to shower and get to bed.

***

For the next few weeks, I went to class, went to the dining hall, grabbed a to-go box and ate in my dorm room. I wanted to keep a low profile, afraid I’d run into Theresa. I think I was suffering from some sort of post traumatic stress or something.

The afternoon after the “incident,” I woke up and saw the sleeper lying on the chair next to my desk, I panicked and threw it into the trash. I then covered it up with trash and a few other odds and ends I found around my room. The last thing I needed was for someone to collect my trash and see a massive baby garment in the bin.

Everytime I closed my eyes, I could see the women laughing at me as they had me on the table, my most intimate areas on full display.

I couldn’t help but vividly remember what the cleanup had been like when I had gotten home. I had to figure out how to dispose of the diaper in the most discreet way possible. I was torn between taking the diaper off, showering instantly, and then taking it to the garbage. But then I had the issue where my body just felt utterly gross. But on the other hand, I didn’t want the used diaper sitting in my garbage can for too long either, causing the entire dorm to smell what had happened.

I eventually decided to do the latter, preferring not to wear poopy shorts to the dumpsters out back. I spent what felt like hours scrubbing my body down, trying to get the smell off of me.

I scrubbed until I was sure the smell was gone and then scrubbed some more. And then… some more.

And that was the other thing. The smell.

While I was certain the apartment no longer smelled, I cleaned every surface in the shower just to make sure. I used two cans of air freshers, pulled out the scented candles and cranked up the fans as high as they could go.

The windows stayed open for a week.

But each time I walked into my dorm room, I couldn’t help but sense that I smelled something… off. It was this mixture of baby powder, lotions, and plastic.

My apartment smelled like a baby.

It smelled like a giant baby was living in my room.

I was suddenly a big fan of scented candles.

But one thing nagged at me. Theresa had taken the video of me shitting myself on campus. Was Theresa actually going to keep her word and not show the video to anyone? And what if she did?

I could always change colleges or something. Heck, I could even change my name and get a ton of plastic surgery.

But more was needed to solve the problem.

Theresa had mentioned that I had been emailing women around the school telling them about my perverted fantasies and desires. That I had been sending crude messages.

Only, I hadn’t been. I would never do something like that. I was just a biology major who wanted to be a doctor. I hardly had time to send in my homework on time, let alone email random women.

This behavior was problematic. It was creepy, and it was what had trapped me into the diapered position that I had been in a few weeks ago. I was scared that he might send another message and then the video would be all over campus. What if he sent another email? Then I’d be the one having to explain myself to the hoards of college kids who thought I was a baby.

I shook the thought out of my head. I had a few options.

I could probably reach out to Theresa now that she had calmed down and explained to her that her little stalker pervert wasn’t me. Explain to her that she had made a mistake. Explain to her that I was not the guy. Maybe she’d accept the answer and maybe even apologize.

Or she’d just stare at me and think I was lying.

Which meant I needed to consider Plan B. I needed to find the little pervert himself. Find the asshole who sent these notes to these women and ensure he got my message directly.

It was time to call Dereck.

***

“So you need to find someone who sent an email to Theresa a month ago,” Dereck grabbed some more french fries off my tray and aggressively dipped them into the sauce packet. Dereck didn’t like ketchup. As long as I knew him, he preferred Honey Mustard, Barbeque and Sweet and Sour sauce.

“Can you do it?”

Dereck glanced my way and then frowned. “Do you know who sent the emails?”

“No…” I said quietly looking around. “All I know is that this guy… this… (I searched for the word) asshole sent her some pretty perverted stuff.”

“What’s it matter to you anyway?”

“I told you, they think it was me.”

“So you mean the email is sent through an alias?”

I nodded. “That makes sense. An alias.”

Dereck smirked. “You don’t know what it means, do you?”

“An atlas?”

“Exactly.”

Dereck grabbed some more fries and explained that he’d need a week to figure out the password, and then he could do some digging. “But just to warn you,” he said, licking his fingers, “if she’s deleted the emails, it might take a bit more time.”

“It’s fine. I just need this quickly.”

“You got it, buddy.” Dereck said condescendingly as we palmed the rest of the fries and pulled out his laptop.

***

While Dereck made it sound complicated, he managed to get the passwords and emails done in less than a week. In what was a dramatic flourish, Dereck printed out the emails and insisted they meet at the library in some creepy, dusty corner where no one could overhear them.

“It turns out they’re using an alias,” Dereck confirmed gesutring to the documents. “It’s some pretty fucked up stuff too.”

Dereck thumbed through the emails confirming Theresa’s comments. The emails were not safe for work. After a quick read, he was worried the librarian would come over the library stacks and drag them to the nearest police station.

The emails chronicled a fascination this man had with these women. But what really gave me the heebie jeebies was how he put these women on a pedestal. He said he needed them to be his “mommy” so he could live out his dreams.

Okay, Mommy Kink, I thought to myself. That’s a bit Fruedan.

While I could understand having fantasies, the things he was sending these women were obscene. He evidently was taking photos of these women as they walked around campus. Sending those photos to them and signing them, Baby Bradly. He had photoshopped images of diapers instead of books into their arms and written captions like, “Mommy coming to change me after class.” It was all quite odd.

There had to be something seriously wrong with this guy.

“His real name is Eric Yondau,” Dereck said, sliding over another folder toward me. “And he’s a freshman.”

I stroked my chin for a moment. “Where does he live… it’s time we pay him a visit.”

Dereck grinned at me. “I thought you’d never ask.”

***