Sinlges: Wherever You Are (Patreon)

Happy Friday! And...surprise, here's a little bonus story for all my patrons! In between working on longer stories, lately, I've been writing very short little 2-3 page stories as fun little diversions for myself. I don't yet have a plan for how often I'll be publishing them, but  they'll pop up here and there. Enjoy!

There were rules to follow - and he had broken just about all of them.

The diaper that was left on the bed? The one that he was expected to wear today? Well that was still there - despite the fact that he wasn’t.

He didn’t tell her that he was going out, let alone where he was going out to.

He still hadn’t apologized for acting like a bratty little baby the day before, either.

So what was she to do about that? One thing was for sure - she couldn’t allow these transgressions to go unpunished. Who was this boy to think he was above such rules? Especially as he was the one who suggested such things in the first place.

And so lessons must be taught. She wasn’t particularly thrilled about having to take action - it was yet more work for her. As if changing his diapers and shoveling food into his mouth wasn’t enough work; now this?

She grabbed the diaper and shoved it into her purse. Perhaps if she were in a better mood, she’d have simply waited for him to return. She was not in a good mood, and she was not in a good mood because of him.

She’d find him. There’d be no hiding or further delaying punishment.

The first stop was the pub. It was probably a little earlier than when he and his little friends got together to cheer on silly ball-players, but it was worth a shot. Alas, he wasn’t there. A shame, really, as she would’ve liked to have seen the look on his face as she bust through the door there.

The next stop was the comic book store. A fittingly boyish vice for someone who, time and time again, had proven themselves to be just a little boy. It’d be a real shame if he wasn’t there, as she would’ve loved nothing more than to have called him out in the middle of his fantastical sanctuary.

But he was. Elbows perched on the store counter as he babbled to the pretty dark-haired shopgirl.

“...and if you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it. Nobody writes Swamp Thing quite like…”

His voice trailed as he caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye. No, it couldn’t be her, could it? It was, and this didn’t bode well for him.

“I hate to interrupt all your fun,” she said, her powerful and effortless stride attracting the eye of the other patrons of the shop as she neared him. “But you left something at home today.”

“No, please,” he begged. “Not here. Not now.”

“Here. Now,” she said. “Wherever you are and anytime I feel like it.”

The shopgirl’s curious, but she’s also more grateful that this guy has been distracted from talking to her. Who is this woman, exactly? And why is this guy so scared of her?

“We should go home,” he said. “Please. Let’s go. And we can talk about it there.”

The diaper - the very diaper that was placed on the bed this morning - is drawn from her purse and she waves it in the air above her head. “You left this on the bed. I doubt it was an oversight, but considering how important these are, I thought that I should bring it to you.”

Shopgirl squints before pointing at the object. “Is that a…”

“Diaper?” She’s so glad Shopgirl asked. “Why yes it is. But it's a big diaper. For big babies.

Big babies who make big puddles and stinky messes in their pants.”

“Please,” he pleads. “Can we go?” His eyes are locked onto hers, as he’s terrified of looking around the shop to see how many people are staring at them right now. Here, in his favorite place. It’s probably for the best, as Shopgirl was giving him a very concerned look.

“I’m surprised he didn’t just flood his pants here in your store,” she said - perhaps talking to Shopgirl specifically, or maybe just anyone in the building who was listening. “Or worse. The poor thing is always soiling himself.”

He was paralyzed. He wanted to run from the store, but his legs just didn’t work. But hers did, and she grabbed him firmly by the wrist and towed him from the store.

“But don’t worry,” she said - again, likely to anyone listening in. “I’m going to put this big baby back into his diaper - just to make sure that he doesn’t stain his pants or your floor. And you have my word - if he ever steps foot in this store again, he’ll be wearing diapers.”

And they’re gone.

Shopgirl looked around at the other confused, if not amused, customers. “Did that just happen?”

An urban legend was born in that moment - a tale that would be passed between comic enthusiasts and internet forums for some time.

Not that he’d know any of this for a while. As Shopgirl confirmed whether or not what she had just witnessed was real, he was on his back in the backseat of a car a few blocks away in a quiet parking lot. The diaper was finally slid under him and he was sealed into it.

“Much better,” she said. “See? That wasn’t so bad. If you had just been a good boy and put your diaper on this morning, we wouldn’t have had to have made that ruckus in your little store.”

He had been defeated. Humiliated. Once more.

He told himself that he’d never break the rules again.

But nobody believed that.