Bottoms Up, Part 3 (Patreon)

Three: Baby-Man

On any other day, he would’ve seen Harper’s SUV in the driveway and have automatically begun computing all the routes in the house that would minimize his chances of running into her. Today, he was happy to see her car. He would seek her out.

He didn’t have to look too hard, as she was already in the kitchen, flipping through the pages of a grocery circular that was in the mail pile. What an act that was - she never once cared about grocery shopping. She was waiting for him.

“Well, well, well,” he said as she strolled into the kitchen.

“Are you here to give me a hard time?”

“Are you here because you wanted me to give you a hard time?”

She rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Layne?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Just curious about that, uh, thing from last night? That...oh what did you call it...a date? Yeah, I think that’s what you called it.”

“This is why nobody likes to talk to you,” she said.

“Who said that? Have people actually said to you that they don’t like talking to me?”

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively at him - a move she probably learned from him, as it was one of his signatures.

“No, seriously,” he said. “How was the, uh, date?”

“It was good,” she said.

“Did you...stay overnight?”

“No, I came back home.”

“Oh, I just didn’t see you because…”

“We left pretty early.”

“We?”

“Well they stayed over here, yes. And I had to get them back to their car and…”

Now he was doing the dismissive wave. He was a professional. Such smooth movement. Perfect arc in the wrist.

“Alright, you know what?” she said. “You’ve lost your question-asking privileges. You’re going to have to deal with being in the dark now.”

“Wait, wait, I wasn’t trying to…”

“Nope. No more talking.”

“At least tell me their name?”

No response from her. She grabbed a bottle of water and left the kitchen.

--

“So, here’s the thing. I’m thirty...four? Yes, I’m 34. My wife - I think I’m still allowed to call her that - is dating someone else. Well, she went on a date. And...actually, no, don’t get me started on that. Anyways. I have my own business, you know? But it’s kind of awkward to talk about. Like, it’s not the type of thing that’s going to make ladies swoon for me. It’d be like if I said that I owned a medical supply company. Actually, it’s a lot like that. But I’m just kind-of in this place right now where I’m asking myself all these deep questions. Am I happy? Do I want more? Am I ever going to have sex again?”

“Is this usually how you try to hit on women?”

He looked down at his half-empty pint on the bar’s counter and laughed. “Ah shit. I guess I had some things I needed to get off my chest. Sorry you had to hear all that.”

Her emerald eyes contrasted beautifully against her dark skin and the tight coils of her hair. She was smiling, but it was a sympathetic smile - probably the worst kind to be subjected to at a bar.

“Is that really your first beer?” she asked. “Or did you have seven more in the alley first?”

“You don’t even want to hear me whining after seven beers.”

“No, you’re right about that.”

“What about you? Have anything you want to get off your chest? This might be the time to unload.”

“I was passed over for a promotion a month ago,” the woman said. “I keep telling myself I’m over it, but I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah? That sucks. What type of work?”

“Project management for a group of environmental researchers. Wait, what did you say you did again? You owned a business that you didn’t like talking about?”

“And yet you’re still going to ask me about it anyways?”

She laughed and nodded. “Okay, what if I guessed?”

“Alright. Go for it. You won’t get it, though.”

“Stripper, right?”

Layne looked down at his body and laughed. “My stripping days are past me. You know, on account of me being way too hot.”

“No, I can clearly see that. But you said that it was like a medical supply store?”

“I sell diapers,” he blurted out. “I’m just going to say it. Because I’ll feel pretty stupid if I have to play this game with you and blurt it out later.”

She shrugged. “I mean, that’s not so bad. Babies gotta pee somewhere.”

“Adult diapers.”

“Less expected, I guess. But...old people gotta pee somewhere.”

“Adult diapers mostly intended for people with a fetish where they dress up, and act, like babies.”

Her mouth twisted a little, like she had to chew on that nugget for a moment. “That’s a thing? Like...I guess I know that people do...that. But I had no idea there was a physical brick and mortar store that catered to them. And that it’d be local.”

“We do pretty well,” he said. “Though I just found out that there’s a local group of concerned citizens who strongly dislike my store’s existence.”

“I believe that. But it’s not like you’re on main street, right? Next to a daycare?”

“Oh, we’re actually in the back of a daycare. Do you think that’s the problem?”

They both laughed. “What’s your name, anyways? I’m Kiri.”

“Kiwi?”

“Kiri, smartass. Nobody is named Kiwi.”

“Hello, Kiri. I’m Layne.”

“Lame?”

He laughed and shook his head. “There are people who would agree with that. Layne.”

“I’m teasing.”

“So a whole...baby store? What’s that like? Get many walk-ins?”

“I mean, people walk into our store, sure. But I’d be willing to bet that nobody has ever just been driving by and decided to randomly stop in and see what’s up. Our customers know who we are and where we are.”

“Are you a...baby-man?”

He laughed pretty hard - the kind of laugh that Effie would’ve been very proud of, had it been her joke. It wasn’t the kind of thing he was ever comfortable talking about - especially with a stranger. He didn’t think Kiri was different, per se, but the conversation had already been thrillingly candid. If nothing that he said so far had scared her off, what was the harm with going all the way?

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe not so much anymore. Don’t shit where you eat and all that.”

“A fitting analogy…”

“It’s a line that gets tougher to tread, between enjoying something and it being your business.”

“Yeah, I believe that.”

“Do you feel the same way about, uh, projects?”

She laughed and nodded. “Oh, for sure. But your life is far more interesting than mine. I want to know more about that.”

“Ugh, no you don’t.”

“Maybe just the baby-man parts?”

He snort-laughed. “Yeah? Alright. Ask me anything.”

“So, you wear a diaper, yes?”

“Jesus, don’t say it so loud.”

“Nobody can hear us. Look, there’s some sort of sports-game on the TV.”

“That’s called baseball,” he said.

“Answer the question, smartass.”

“Yes. But, again, it’s more like: I did wear diapers.”

“We can use present tense, right? I mean, you’re telling me that if you met some pretty woman who told you to put a diaper on for her, you would balk?”

“I wear diapers,” he corrected.

“Do you use them?”

“Well, yeah. That’s, like, part of the experience. But, let me ask, how does that make you feel? Because there’s a lot of people who would hear that and be repulsed.”

Her head waivered back and forth as she considered it. “I don’t know. I’m socially conditioned to find that gross. But...you could always just take a shower, I guess. There’s probably worse things in this world. Like cannibalism.”

“I’ve never taken a bite out of someone.”

She straightened her back, and her eyes glanced over his shoulders to something behind him. She was smiling - happy to see whatever it was. He turned to see what she’d be looking at, and spotted the man walking through the door. Tall, handsome. If he wasn’t a basketball player - he had to have spent most of his life being asked why not.

“Fashionably late, as always,” Kiri said with a shrug. “I’m afraid I have to abandon our conversation.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you,” he said.

“Should I ever need diapers, I guess I’ll just look up the only adult diaper store in town?”

“We’re not that hard to find.”

“Goodbye, baby-man.”

--

Back in the days of yore, when Layne still wanted to be a baby-man, he had a slightly different vision for Bottoms Up - one crafted from fantasy. Pretty women and handsome men would stroll in through the doors - multiple times a day - and they’d hem and haw over the diaper choices.

He’d step in, making some recommendations. Maybe he’d point out a particularly cute diaper and mention how perfect it’d be for a ‘big baby like you.’ They’d blush, make a weak attempt to deny such a thing, but they’d be hooked. And then Layne would suggest that they try one on for size.

And then he’d lead them through the swinging doors into the back stockroom where he’d show them the “nursery.”

The nursery still existed. It was a contentious room between Effie and Layne. She had lots of ideas for it. Extra storage. A break room. An actual office, as opposed to the haphazard table of documents and computer equipment shoved into the corner of the stockroom. Once she had even asked if she could rent the space from him and turn it into an art studio.

All requests were denied. He couldn’t let it go - that last strand of unrealistic fantasy. The store had been open long enough for him to know the truth - there would be no situation where he convinced a pretty young thing to let him put a diaper on them in the back of his store. But the day he surrendered the room to one of Effie’s whims would be the day that the original dream was dead. The store would just be a store.

He arrived at the store a little after 9:00 PM. He had been the slightest bit buzzed by the time he left the bar - only downing one more pint after Kiri left him to join Tall Guy. He could’ve gone home, but he didn’t even want to risk running into Harper right now - surely neither would be in the mood for that. So he stopped by the store after hours - something he hadn’t done in a while.

Slowly walking around the salesfloor, it was refreshing to just look at diapers without having to inventory or box them. Talking to Kiri about them - hell, feeling like he had to defend them when Grace Vander-whatever came into the store - had stirred something in him that hadn’t been stirred in a while. Everything that had settled on the bottom was kicked up. It was refreshing.

He grabbed a package of Carnivals and held them in his hand. They really were among the most perfect diapers he had ever seen. He was close to opening the pack before remembering he probably had some loose in the back. He tried to keep a few loose diapers of each brand on hand. Sometimes as freebies for orders, or sometimes as a sample to give to curious customers that didn’t annoy him too much.

Sure enough, he had most of a pack sitting on a shelf in the stockroom. They had even gathered a little bit of dust too - practically a criminal offense for diapers such as these. He drew one out, bending it back and forth to hear the plastic crinkle. Music to his ears, and a song he hadn’t appreciated in a while.

Boxes were moved out of the path to the door - no doubt a passive aggressive move on Effie’s part. When the light switched on, he found that the nursery looked almost exactly as it did the last time he saw it - months, he suspected.

“The nursery” was just a name. It was a large closet. The ‘changing table’ was a repurposed workbench, upholstered with some padding and fabric that he had to watch multiple YouTube videos for. There was a trash can - the trash bag within probably the same one that had been in there for the last two years. There was an empty shelf too, that once held essentials like baby wipes and baby powder. Again - that was a while ago. Back when he had more whimsy.

Layne kicked his pants and boxers off in the little room and climbed onto the table. Even if it had been a while since he last put a diaper on, it was the sort of thing he didn’t forget. Bottom lifted - Bottoms Up, he thought to himself - diaper positioned under him and threaded through his legs. Folded over and taped shut.

There he was, just a baby-man on the changing table of his nursery. ‘Nursery.’

It was comfortable. And while on his back, thick padding between his legs, he felt better than he had in a long time. This felt soothing. Natural. The troubles of life slowly faded from view. No Grace Vander-punks or Harpers. No need to think about the dead-end flirting wasted on April or Kiri. No smart-ass comments from Effie.

He slipped a thumb into his mouth. Goddamn, he missed that.

The thumb was a ticket to ride through some old memories - ones that were normally kept in a box under the metaphorical bed. Memories you didn’t want to look at, but would never bring yourself to throw away.

He used to call Harper ‘Mommy.’ Not all the time. But sometimes - specific times. Times when it mattered. She was good at it too - damn near effortless in blending coddling with humiliation. She could shrink him down to infant status with just a look. He’d be reading a book or watching the TV and she’d walk into the room with a smirk on her face.

“Baby want his bottle?”

Boom, done. He’d be on the floor crawling behind her, no matter where she went or what would follow.

That trip to Vermont. Skiing on Stowe, very well padded under the snowpants. The nervewracking and careful escape from the restaurant that night after too many drinks had caused the diaper to be used too many times.

His hand slipped into the front of his diaper. Hello, old friend. Remember this?

About nine minutes later, he had fallen asleep on the changing table, and this was where he stayed for the remainder of the night.

--

It was usually a bad sign when Layne was at the store early in the morning. Either things had been that bad with Harper the night before, or he had a wild new idea for something he wanted to do to the store - which meant he’d put a few hours of work into it and then ask her to handle the rest.

Effie parked and entered through the front door. She, herself, was about 5 minutes late - as she was most days. It rarely mattered when Layne certainly wasn’t there on time. But it was after 9:00 AM, and the lights weren’t on. The front door was still locked.

She immediately imagined Layne unconscious - maybe dead - on the stockroom floor, a shelf of diapers having collapsed on top of him. Later, talking to Harper, she’d have to say: “Well, this was probably how he wanted to die.”

“Hello?” she called out into the dark salesfloor. “Layne?”

No answer. She flipped the lights on and spun around the OPEN sign on the door. She walked back into the stockroom next. There still seemed to be no sign of him. He wasn’t dead on the floor. Which was good - though she was worried that she’d forget her comment for Harper by the time he actually did die.

“Layne? You here?”

Still no answer. She was about to shrug it off and head to the front counter when she spotted the yellow light emitting from the doorway of the nursery, creeping over the edges of the partially closed door. He had moved the boxes she put in front of the door - mostly just to annoy him, though that was weeks ago.

She walked towards the door, curious as to what his plan was. Clearly, this was why he was in early today - he had a project in mind for this room. Was he finally turning it into a break room? An office? Extra storage?

She pushed open the door and her eyes grew large. There was Layne - sleeping on his back, snoring slightly. Wearing nothing but a mostly unbuttoned shirt, white undershirt, and a diaper. A Carnival, at that.

She slowly backed herself out of the room and returned the door to its partially closed state.

This was probably going to be an awkward conversation later.