Unfair- Chapter 35: A Thirty-Two Year Old Baby (Patreon)
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Chapter 35: A Thirty-Two Year Old Baby
âAre you sure you donât want your lion?â Janet asked me just before she unbuckled me out of the carseat.
I inhaled. I didnât even bother to look at the stuffie next to me. âNo...maâam.â A glint of hope flashed in her eyes followed by disappointment. Sheâd been hoping that Iâd call her a different M-word. I still had some measure of pride in me. Best not to antagonize her, however. âThank you,â I added.
âOkayâŠâ she said, sounding a bit weary. I took a bit of cruel comfort in that moment. Janet could bathe me, diaper me, and dress me. She could have my hair cut, curled, and dyed. She could feed me poisoned food and leave me to stew in my own mess. She could spank me and reduce me to tears with a single swat. But I could cause her no end of frustration just by not calling her âMommyâ. It still didnât even the odds, but every cat values their claws even when up against a bear.
I did my best not to grumble as AGAIN she slid two fingers in past the leakguards of my diaper. âDry,â she said. As if I didnât know. I felt a slight pang in my bladder. I still didnât have to GO go, but I noticed the need if I thought about it.
I was a long way from the classic and stereotypical Little doing the potty dance bit. I was a teacher. We can hold our bladders for a long time. Or I used to be a teacher...
Damnit.
I just made myself sadâŠ
Janet leaned into the back seat and grabbed the lion anyways. âJust in case,â she said. At roughly half my size, it still wouldnât fit neatly into the diaper bag, so the toy found a home in Janetâs mammoth teacher purse. âTime to go see the doctor.â
My breath became shallow. My throat constricted. For the first time that day, I felt more than just humiliation and resentment and self pity. I felt fear. I hadnât been to the doctor in years. In general, Littles donât go to the doctor by choice.
Fun fact: According to MistuhGwiffin.web, thereâs a severe shortage of Littles in every medical field save pediatricians. Thereâs not even that many of us in that branch, either. Itâs just that itâs not unheard of. The majority of Little doctors are immigrants who got suckered in with propaganda and found out too late that doing anything short of working towards full citizenship might be misconstrued as immaturity.
But Pediatricians? Yeah. Iâd been to one, back when I was the appropriate age to be seeing one.
A lifetime ago, I would have said itâs because seeing Littles surrounded by Little children caused enough cognitive dissonance to offset any given Amazonâs baby crazy. Cassie would have said itâs because they want us to live long enough so that they could catch us after weâd been alive long enough to be done growing. So no measles and mumps for us.
Maybe we were both right. I still donât know.
Littles donât typically go to hospitals. I didnât go to hospitals. Iâve NEVER chosen to go to a hospital or a doctor. Itâs not a long leap of logic for an Amazon to take care of a sick Little and then decide that they needed more help being cared for. Thatâs what happened to my uncle Thomas before I was born. He was afraid heâd been having a heart attack. They checked him into pediatrics⊠Thatâs what he got for experimenting with spicy food.
Nope. From about age ten to when some of us manage to move into semi-secure Littleâs communities, we tend to avoid doctors. Either that, or the local Little âpediatricianâ moonlights as a general practitioner and makes house calls.
All the other options are forced on us.
A cold whoosh of air hit me in the face as Janet opened the door to Premium Pediatrics. The banner above the door had pictures of cute, chubby, babies- actual babies- all giggling and wearing nothing but plain white diapers. Below the picture were the words âNow accepting children of ALL agesâ. It didnât take a genius to know what that meant.
The sign was in good condition, but the sun faded lettering hinted that this policy wasnât anything remotely new. Assuming the babies pictured were Amazons or Tweeners, they very well mightâve been allowed to grow up by now.
Janet gave her name, signed in on a clipboard and then carted me into the waiting room. Apparently, sheâd made this appointment last night and filled out the paperwork as I languished in the crib. Gentle pop music covers sung in auto-tuned childrenâs voices played softly on speakers in the ceiling.
She made a beeline towards a water cooler and dug out an empty bottle. I caught a glimpse of the lollipop Iâd âearnedâ from the salong sticking out besides it and felt my tongue retreat to the back of my throat. There was another thing I wouldnât be eating.
The water was just below the brim when Janet screwed the cap on. She put it aside, and filled up a paper cup; making sure to let out a satisfied âaaaaaahâ after sheâd downed it and thrown it away. Good. She didnât have my trust and knew it. She hadnât earned it. She didnât deserve it.
A few steps later, she was sitting down and was being cradled in her lap. I pursed my lips together and let the cold tasteless liquid dribble down my chin. âItâs just water, baby,â Janet said. âDrink up.â
I didnât want to. I really didnât. I didnât want to give her the satisfaction. I wanted to be difficult. I wanted to be a fussy, cranky, Little that wouldnât ever give her satisfaction and make her regret ever being friends with me and then betraying that friendship the first chance she got. And in a weird way I wanted to punish myself for ever being friends with her.
But I was thirsty. My throat was dry. I hadnât had anything since the breakfast shake several hours ago. The cold calculating part of my brain, the Cassie part, told me to bide my time and look for an opening. Oh who am I kidding, that was the Clark part of my brain. The Cassie part of my brain wanted me to breastfeed just so I could draw blood and run away with a nipple still between my teeth.
I swallowed my pride, opened up and took the water. I avoided eye contact and instead took the rest of the waiting room.
That was a mistake.
I canât remember ever wearing diapers as a child before. Like Iâve said, Littles tend to get potty trained early. But I do remember the handful of times Iâd gone to the doctor as a child. This was the same atmosphere: Same cutesy stickers dotting the walls. Same boring posters promoting hand washing and checking temperature. Same pictures of doctors and smiling children posing together. Same table full of bead mazes and old coloring books and wooden alphabet puzzles with a few pieces missing.
That sameness was a problem for me.
Iâd been in Beoufâs room so many times before that even waking up in her nap room Iâd still felt like me. I was still thirty-two year old Clark Gibson. I had been Mr. Gibson for years and had my fill of chalk and school bells and educational toys. Those were still adult memories.
Iâd never had my hair cut in anything resembling a salon, either. That was a completely alien experience to me.
But here? This was a type of place that I only ever associated with childhood. My last memories of a place like this happened before my voice had changed; when the world was even bigger and I still had so much growing to do.
Even then, I knew the world was always going to be too big for me, but it would get at least a tiny bit smaller over the coming years. Now I was back. I was back and everything was still so much bigger than me. I was drinking from a bottle, having my diaper checked (yet again), and waiting to be carried into a pediatricianâs examination room.
And so many of the âbabiesâ in those pictures on the wall, looked like me.
It was worse than any hypnotic cartoon I could imagine.
I didnât feel hypnotized. I just felt small.
Helpless.
Little.
A doctorâs waiting room is no place to have fun. Ever. Iâve never been to a âgrown-upâ doctor, but I feel thatâs true, regardless. Patients arenât meant to enjoy themselves in a waiting room; theyâre meant to suffer quietly and bide their time until called upon.
A lot of that is reflected in a pediatricianâs waiting room. None of the toys light up or make noise. They donât go boom and bam and ring out. They clink and click quietly unless theyâre soft and plushy, and if theyâre big enough to fall or tip over theyâre bolted down. Neither children nor Littles are expected (or allowed) to just sit with their own thoughts, and so theyâre given things to distract and fidget, but not entertain or stimulate.
Thatâs why doctorâs offices are never fun. Fun is too loud and noisy. Oh, and then thereâs the whole âsickâ thing, too, I guess.
Not that I wanted to play with the toys. Itâs why I sipped so softly on the bottle. The moment Iâd guzzled it down, Janet would want me to play with something. Sheâd want her new pet to perform for her. I wouldnât be allowed to sulk and be in my thoughts.
We werenât left alone for long. Other Amazons and their charges trickled in as the water trickled down my mouth. An Amazon man came and plopped two Littles in pink and blue footed sleepers down into a sturdy wooden playpen bolted to the floor. He gave them each a kiss on the forehead and then left them alone to sit in a nearby seat and read a magazine that was six months out of date.
The pair sat on padded rears and began occupying themselves with a game of Connect Four. No pacifier gags to silence them or stupid grins and giggling drooling lips with blank eyes to show that they had no real consciousness left to them. Their careful moves signaled that they werenât mind fucked; not completely. They were just old hat at this âbabyâ thing. Theyâd reached a level of calm acceptance of their situation; if not enjoyment.
Oh, the level of pity, jealousy, and dread that flooded my mind in that tiny moment.
The Little boy who was brought in next was screaming his head off. I donât know if his mind was gone or if he was just in so much mental, physical and emotional pain, No words came out of him, just throaty bellowing screams.
His screaming hurt even my ears and his whole body was flushed bright red. Fever? Screaming? Both? His screaming only stopped when his Amazon whipped her boob out and brushed a dripping nipple against his cheek. The screaming stopped as soon as he latched on. His body slowed and his âMommyâ petted his hair and whispered quiet, shushing words.
I put my tongue in the whole of the nipple to slow the drip. Janet was staring at them. I thought sheâd looked crazy yesterday when she ran into the I.E.P. meeting. That was nothing, comparatively. There were worse things, I remembered, than just bottle feeding.
The door into the examination area opened, and a nurse poked her head out. âClark?â she called. I bit down and made a bit of water squirt down my throat. I surpressed the urge to gag and just drank a little more.
Janet stood up with me and carried me over yet another threshold. I gripped the bottle a little harder.
âHow are we doing today?â The nurse asked not me.
âJust fine, thank you.â Janet replied. âKind of excited actually. This is our first doctorâs visit!â
âIt is exciting, isnât it?â
âVery!â
Exciting. That was a word for it. I had no chance of being bored, that was for sure.
The next seven minutes were a special kind of hell for me.
I was laid down on a metal slab, and my weight was taken. I was shivering. The metal sides rose up, so that the âbabyâ didnât âaccidentallyâ roll off. To me though, they were too similar to the confines of a certain bug zapper.
Giant hands stretched me out on an examination holding me down so I didnât squirm or struggle too much while another pair played with measuring tape. They were measuring my length. Length. I guess height was for âgrown-upsâ too. The way Janet and the nurse did it sent me back a little over twenty-four hours to when I was being stretched out and splayed out to be coated with skin repairing cream.
I didnât breathe the entire time.
A monstrous cuff engulfed my bicep and squeezed hard enough to almost make me lose feeling in my arm. I couldnât help but think about what happened to the uncle Iâd never met. All the while Janet shushed me and told me how it was going to be okay. Nothing was okay though.
âYouâre gonna need to get him down to just his diaper,â the nurse said before leaving.
I planted my palms down on the exam table and leaned back. âNo.â It came out stronger than I would have expected.
âBut Clark,â Janet said. âThe doctor needs to take a look at your body to make sure that everything is working right.â
âNo.â I was sitting down, but standing my ground.
âClark-â
âJanet,â my voice cracked. âI have been stripped and zapped and carted around and and and...everyone has seen me naked or in a diaper and I am already SICK of it.â
She didnât laugh. If she had I wouldâve hated her utterly. âClark. This is just the doctor. He sees people in just their underwear and diapers and naked all the time. Itâs part of his job.â
âIâm a Little.â I was on the verge of losing it. âEveryone in my life is going to see me naked or in diapers.â
âThen whatâs one more person? Especially if itâs their job?â
Fuck. I walked into that one. âAt least let me do it myself...?â
Again, she didnât laugh. I could tell from her expression that she thought it was one of the cutest things sheâd ever heard. I hated her less for that⊠Without pushing me down, and with impossibly strong yet nimble fingers, Janet popped open the snaps on my plain white onesie. âOkay.â
I stood up on shaky legs. The padding beneath my feet combined with the stuffing between my thighs wasnât doing my balance any favors. Now that it was effectively just a shirt, it was easy enough to yank it back over my head.
Except it wasnât.
I got my arms through the sleeves and was pulling-yanking even- it off my shoulders, but all I managed to do was make my neck hurt. âIâmâŠ.stuck!â I gasped.
âHmmm?â I heard her say. Followed by, âOh! Yeah!â The shirt was yanked back down and I was staring into Janetâs eyes. I felt one final pop at the back base of the collar. âSorry,â she said, âI forgot that there was one in the back too. Silly Mommy.â
Heavy footsteps blocked out any reply I mightâve come up with. Janet finished yanking the diaper shirt over my head right as the door opened again.
The man who walked in was big, even for an Amazon. Broad shoulders, a chiseled jaw, and a full head of silver hair, he was a head taller than Janet. He had wrinkles but they were the kind that came from smiling. He was smiling even then, and in a deep but jolly voice, he said. âGood morning! Iâm Dr. Milton.â He reached and shook Janetâs hand and then did a double take at his watch. âYup. Still Morning.â He laughed at his own non-joke. I knew this patter. I knew this tone.
âJanet Grange.â
âPleasure to meet you, Janet Grange.â All smiles. His wrinkles creased up around his eyes everytime he did. The laugh lines vanished with his grin. Iâd made that face so many times when I was trying to be sociable with parents.
What happened next caught me completely off guard. He strode up to the examination table, looked me in the eye. âHello. Iâm Dr. Jonathan Milton. And you are?â
He asked me. Me! I was in a pediatricianâs office, wearing nothing but a Monkeez, and he was shaking my hand and greeting me. Like an adult. It hadnât been two days since someone had done that, and yet it was something that I deeply expected to never happen again.
âC-Clark.â I stuttered.
âPleasure to meet you, Clark. And how old are you, sir?â
SirâŠ.
SIR!
I was a sir, again!
I blinked. âThirty-two.â My voice sounded far off. Just that little bit of courtesy, that little bit of dignity completely threw me off my game.
Dr. Milton whistled. âThirty-two. Not bad, young fella, not bad at all.â I was shaking with something besides anger. I didnât even mind being called âyoung fellaâ. It was a damn site better than âbabyâ or âsweetieâ or âLittle boyâ.
âThank youâŠ?â
âSo hereâs what Iâm going to do, Clark. Iâm going to listen to your heartbeat, your lungs, and your guts using my olâ stethoscope here.â He held up the instrument in front of his face to show me. âThen Iâm going to look in your eyes and ears and throat with my otoscope,â he paused to show me the instrument. âThatâs what I call this doohickey right here. Then Iâm going to test your reflexes right quick with my tiny knee hammer. And then Iâll ask you some questions about your health. Do you understand?â
In awe, I nodded. It was refreshing actually. Relaxing even.
âBreathe in. Deep Breath. Breath out. Sorry about it being cold by the way.â
I was entranced. He was so respectful. So gentle, always warning me when I was going to be touched.
âMMhmm⊠Open your mouth please. Say ah!â
He narrated everything he did, but not in the same patronizing way that Typical Amazons did when talking to Littles.
âExcuse me, just checking for bruises, sprains and breaks. That hurt? No? That? No? Good.â
Even the âgoodâ was good. Because it wasnât âgood boy,â or âgood baby.â No stupid kid jokes like Iâd get a giggle out of a pun or a knock-knock joke. Nothing about a light coming through the other side of my head.
âOh wow. Itâs lightâs never come out the other end before.â I stood corrected⊠âAh, you know Iâm just jokinâ. I just canât resist making a dumb joke everynow and then. That one was just for me, sir. Just for me.â AND THE RECOVERY!
Damnit! I wanted to hate him, and I still did...but it was SO HARD!
Then it hit me. This was me. This guy was with me how I treated my own students. Respectful, playful, professional, but caring. And that hair, that glorious mature silver hair, and those stress free laugh lines. He was who I wanted to be when I grew upâŠ
Even though Iâd already grown upâŠ
Even though Iâd never grow up again.
No more forward. Just back. Maybe in place. I hung my head when I sat down and he tested my reflexes. I think it just passed as curiosity. I shifted my weight, a bit, listening to the crinkle from the medical paper on the exam table. At least I wasnât the only one crinkling.
âEverything seems to be okie dokie,â he said.
âGood,â Janet piped in. Sheâd been watching like a star struck hawk the entire time, and had stepped back while the doctor looked me over.
âSo Clark,â Dr. Milton said. âReady for some questions?â
I felt surprisingly comfortable. âSure,â I said.
âDo you smoke?â
âNo, sir.â
âGood. Do you drink?â
I shot a glance at Janet. âOccasionally.â
âHow often and how much?â
âNever thought about it,â I shrugged. âTypically only with friends.â Janet winced. Shots fired. Direct hit.
Dr. Miltonâs back was to her. âSo youâre a social drinker?â
âYes, sir.â
âNothing wrong with that.â Janetâs eyes flared up in shock. Babies didnât get permission to drink. Ever. This medical professional either disagreed with that bit of common wisdom or disagreed that I was a baby. I was liking him more and more with each question.
This was totally me in Amazon form.
âDo you exercise?â He asked.
âSometimes.â
âHow often and what do you do?â
I stared down at my gut. I couldnât help but fold my arms over it. âItâs been a couple months, but I like to do yoga.â
His eyes lit up. âOooh! Yoga! Good one!â He turned around and looked at Janet. âYou might wanna remember that for later, maâam. Yoga. Lotta boys donât take too well to ballet.â
Janet nodded her head. âOkay! Yeah! Yoga!â
Talking to Janet was the first real chink in the armor. The next question blew a fist sized hole in it.
âHow is your diaper?â
My hands shot back down to my crotch and my heart jumped back up to my throat. âDRY!â I yelped. âIâm dry! Potty trained!â
âYou werenât this morning,â Janet tutted.
The doctor waved her off. âI mean, are you comfortable? Too tight? Too loose? Too bulky? Too thin? What?â
I had no idea how to answer that question. âI guess...I guess...why are you asking?â
Dr. Milton tilted his head to the side. âWhelp, if I needed diapers, Iâd want them to be as comfortable as possible.â
Boom. Done. I officially hated this man.
Typical Amazon.
âI donât NEED diapers!â I said. âIâm pot-â
Janet interrupted. âClark, you pooped your pants in front of everyone yesterday. Quit pretending.â
That shut me up. I couldnât argue with that. Thereâd have been no point. Dr. Milton motioned and Janet walked up, blocking me into a circle. âSo you think thatâs when his Maturosis manifested?â
âWe think it started to manifest sooner, maybe as early as early Summer, but it definitely got too much for him to handle yesterday.â
The old fellow stroked his chin. âYes, yes. I could see that.â
I started wilting. False hope can do that to a person. âYouâre not going to get me out of this,â I mumble, âare you?â
I felt a tough calloused hand on my shoulder. âRight now, Clarkâs brain and body chemistry is just going all over the place.â There it went. He was talking about me instead of to me. âSerotonin and dopamine are going crazy, and not in the good way. His oxytocin levels are lowering, and Littles in general produce low amounts of oxytocin.â
Oxytocin: The cuddle hormone. Such bullshit. Littles didnât produce too little of it. Amazons just made too much. Bullshit. Such bullshit. I just shook my head, muttering as much, not caring if they heard me.
âIâm worried about his bladder,â Janet said to him. âHe hasnât wet since I changed him this morning.
I lifted my head. Might as well howl and spit into the wind. âBECAUSE IâM-!â
I was on my back before I could finish the sentence. I thought Janet was powerful. âLet me check,â the Amazon doctor said. Tapes came off. Again, I was laying naked on an open diaper as an Amazon stared at my privates. It was something I promised myself Iâd never get used to.
Calloused, probing hands pressed down on my belly just below my belly button and on my pelvis. âHmmmâŠ.MmmmhmmâŠHold on.â I felt the need to pee more keenly than ever. âHmm...yup.â
âWhat?â Janet said. âWhat is it?â
âYouâre circumcised,â The doctor noted. I squeaked, actually squeaked, when he jiggled my testicles. âTesticles havenât retracted. Good.â He stood me up. âTurn your head to the side and cough, please.â Youâd be surprised what youâre willing to do when a giant is literally gripping you by the balls. âNo hernia. Had to check for that anyway,â he said. âI was just going to save that from the end.â He motioned to Janet. âYou can put a new diaper on him.â He looked back at me, âTapes are never the same after you take them off.â He winked. FUCKER WINKED!
Janet quickly had me down and re-diapered before their conversation continued. âSo whatâs going on?â She bobbed me up and down in her lap. It wasnât doing my bladder any favors; not that she wanted to.
âHIs guts are working,â Dr. Milton said. He was half looking at me, half looking at Janet. âHeard that on my stethoscope.â He held it up. âThatâs this thing,â he said to me. It was much less folksy and endearing the second time around. âAnd I felt that his bladder was full. Wonât be long now. Just give it time.â
âBut why, Doctor?â
I closed my eyes and held my tongue. What was the point?
âBecause like you said, Maturosis doesnât happen all at once. Heâs still a little potty trained, for now. The diapers are just a likely eventuality, so might as well get used to âem.â I felt disgusted with myself for relating to this quack for even a second. Now, he sounded like the worst parts of Beouf. He looked right at me. âNothing wrong with that.â
âThen you try wearing them,â I growled.
âIf I need them, I will.â The line was so quick. Heâd heard that before. Had it prepared.
âClark, why are you being so fussy?â Janet asked.
Milton answered for me. âItâs not his fault. Emotionally, itâs like heâs going through puberty all over again. Lots of frustration, lots of big emotions. Itâs basically Little Menopause. His frontal lobe and amygdala, the parts of the brain responsible for guilt and shame are restructuring and rewiring themselves all over again.â The answer was nonsense of course, but it was an answer Amazons like Janet liked.
She was eating up every word. âMmmhmm..â My bladder was aching. She was bouncing me just a little bit faster. âWhy is he so angry though? Cranky? Itâs not like him.â
âItâs like I said,â the quack repeated. âHis brain is redeveloping itself, but he has the added obstacle of having all of his previous memories and experiences. You and me? We did stupid stuff when we were kids. But our brains developed, and we gained more knowledge and experience. Now, we look back and laugh now that weâve mellowed. We are not who we are now who we were then.â
âAnd Clark?â
The snake oil salesman took a deep breath. Again, he was talking to Janet. This time, though, he was looking right at me. âClark? Heâs going backwards, but heâs still got all of those memories of going forward. His brain and body are telling him to be a toddler or a baby again, but his mind remembers moving past that. Heâs going to have all the mind and memories heâs always had, but the emotional and physical needs of someone much much lessâŠ.well...mature.â He shrugged. âHeâs basically at war with himself.â
Janet stopped bouncing me. âThat makes so much sense.â Sure it did! If you closed your eyes and didnât think too hard! I sighed, if only because I was going to be able to hold my bladder a bit longer.
âItâs why, for a whileâ he said, âthose hypno-toons were so en vogue. Help the mind accept what the brain and body want by wiping clean the parts that fight the hardest.â
âI donât want hypnosis,â Janet said. I could feel her shaking her head, it was so hard. She started petting me, as if she were afraid I might get mind fucked just for being in the same room where it was discussed.
He waved the idea away. âWouldnât think of it. That stuff is garbage, and illegal besides. Iâll prescribe you something with plenty of electrolytes to help things move along and keep him hydrated. Also something to help out with the Oxytocin problemâ He whipped out a pen and started scribbling on a prescription pad. âIn the meantime, Iâd also recommend getting him into a good daycare program. The best ones are pretty expensive, but you might be able to get into one of the publicly funded ones.â
I felt Janet give me a squeeze. Was she trying to make me use my diaper by sheer force or just that excited? It was hard to tell. âHeâs already enrolled in Oakshire Elementary!â she squealed.
âOakshire?â The doctorâs face turned into a Christmas Tree. âWith Melony Beouf?â
âUh-huh! Weâre coworkers!â
Milton slapped his knee. âWell alright then! Iâve known Melony for years! Sheâs one of the best Littleâs teachers Iâve ever met. Attends my seminars on the subject at least once a year! I was thinking of having her help me write a paper on the subject!â
My jaw went slack. My eyes went blank. The only physical stimuli that registered to me was the growing and gnawing pain in my bladder. I stopped listening to them and retreated inside myself. Melony Beouf and this asshole knew each other? But Iâd never heard her talk about him before. Not that Iâd ever asked or wanted to know exactly where she got her cult-like doctrine from.
It made sense why they sounded so much alike, too.
Itâs justâŠ
Itâs just thatâŠ
Do you remember that feeling when youâre a kid- maybe a Kindergartener; maybe a little younger or a little older- and you first find out that your teacher has a life outside of the classroom? Has a family? Maybe cats? Enjoys video games? That feeling that thereâs this person in your life that keeps you safe and seems to care about you and acts as a friend to you; almost like an extra parent; and then it dawns on you that they know so much about you and you know almost nothing about them?
You feel like you just got let in on a big secret. You also feel like maybe the world isnât as simple as you led yourself to believe. In a way, you kind of feel like a bad friend or student or person; like you should have known this already.
Just then, I was feeling that about one of my oldest Amazon friends and coworkers, who until yesterday had shielded me for close to a decade from other asshole Amazons. I was a Kindergartener, if that. I was thirty-two. The two feelings werenât emotionally mutually exclusive it seemed.
âSo donât worry,â Dr. Milton said breaking in on my thoughts. âMrs. B. will help Clark out a whole lot!â He ruffled my newly curled and dyed hair.
âI used to work with her, too!â I blurted out. I felt stupid. I felt wrong. But I had to say it. âWe worked together. Ten years. Janet too.â I was the kid at the grown-ups table. Nothing worth saying but I NEEDED to say SOMETHING!
âThatâs neat,â Doctor Milton smiled down at me. âAnd now you three will be working together again. Youâll all just be working on Clark instead of other kids.â Janet hugged me again. This time her grip was higher up on the chest. I retreated inside myself again, hiding in a soft, pudgy shell that numbed me.
Outside of me, the doctor was acting like an actual doctor again and lecturing me on how I shouldnât hold it quite so much and that I could do long term damage to my kidneys if I tried. He ran down a list of nasty medical procedures that might happen to me if I got too backed up. Enemas and Catheters would only be the start. âIs it really worth damaging your body like that and risking your health just to pretend youâre an adult on the inside, son?â
I didnât reply. It wasnât needed. âYouâre gonna be fine.â Janet kissed me on the top of my head. âMommy loves you and you have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. Okay?â
I didnât reply. This time it wasnât out of spite as much as it was being completely fucking overwhelmed. Janet started to put the onesie back on me. Like a good doll, I helped guide my arms through the sleeves. I didnât fuss when she checked my diaper just before buttoning up the crotch.
The doctor wagged a quick finger at Janet. âMy advice? Quit checking his diaper for a while. At this stage of his Maturosis itâs only going to make him get embarrassed and try to do the opposite.â
Itâs almost like I was continent! I was in no state to actually say that out loud, however.
I caught Janet blushing. âYes, Doctor.â
âDonât feel too bad. Itâs a mistake new Moms make all the time.â He turned to leave and then doubled back. âOh, and itâs a bit early, but letâs schedule a prostate exam in a couple months, just in case. Just to get it over with.â
âA prostate exam?â Janet blanched. âBut heâs a babyâŠâ
âHe is,â Dr. Milton agreed. âA thirty-two year old baby.â