The New Narnia- Chapter 36: A Meeting Of Dubiously Mature Minds (Patreon)

Chapter 36: A Meeting of Dubiously Mature Minds.

Far from the cry of the city, where flowers pretty caress the streams,

Cozy to hide in, to love side-by-side in. Don't let it abide in my dreams.

Picture you upon my knee, just tea for two and two for tea

For a non-novice, it only takes a minute or so to change even the messiest diaper.  Disgust is pushed back to nil so there’s no hesitation.  Tricks are learned through trial and error, such as using the front inside of the diaper to scrape a good chunk of the solid mess off first and then wipe the smears off with baby wipes.  
There’s even a kind of muscle memory to it; like riding a bike or washing one’s hands.  An experienced caregiver can change a baby like a NASCAR pit crew can change a tire.

Perhaps that’s why the newcomer started singing.  

“The diaper on the bottom comes off, off, off.
Off, off, off.
Off, off, off!
The diaper bottom comes off, off, off.

Niiiice aaaand cleeeean!”

The other not-baby; the one next to Tommy flushed crimson.  “Aw hell,” Tommy heard him whisper.  “Not now...”  He turned his head and covered his face; and not because he was a giggling or shy baby boy; but because he seemed an embarrassed grown man.

Malacus’s Nanny started to sync up with the intruder: The two women moved in tandem, each slipping a fresh Luvs under their not-baby’s bottom in concert..  What was worse, they sang together too.

“The fresh clean diaper goes on, on, on.

On, on, on.
On, on, on!
The fresh clean diapers goes on, on, on.

Readyyyy toooo plaaaaaay!”

And just like that the change was over.  Wiped, powdered, re-taped.  Everything.  Everything but the squirming.  Each caregiver picked up their (literally) little boy.  In one arm they each held a man-child; in the opposite a balled up soiled diaper with wipes stuffed inside, ready to disposal.

“You know that song, too?” The new mother asked.

“Of course,” Nanny replied.  “Been singing it for years.  Great for keeping fussy babies wiggly, giggly babies.”

The new ‘baby’ seemed like he was going to puke from anxiety. They tossed the boys’ balled up shame into a nearby trashcan and took seats on the park bench, each with a diapered adult on their knee.   “Does that mean your baby goes to the local special needs daycare?”

“He’s not my baby,” Nanny corrected.  “But I’m going to be trying to convince his Mommy to enroll him there.”  

Tommy sat up a little straighter.  What daycare?!

The woman hugged her son a little tighter.  “Oh, that place has been a godsend for me and my little Charlie.  They helped me see what a blessing it was for him not to ever grow up.  He might never learn to talk or go potty, but it also means I get to have so many more special Mommy moments.”  She kissed him on top of the head.  “I’d change his stinky pants forever if it means I can cradle him in my arms and breastfeed him every night and play silly games like peek-a-boo.”  She bounced.  “I like changing the stinky pants, too, come to think of it…”

“Moooooom!” Charlie whined. “Not in front of the D-U-M-M-Y!”  So much for the not talking, thing...

Tommy arched an eyebrow. “Who are you calling a dummy?”  The other so-called baby’s jaw fell into his lap.  

Meanwhile, the other women ignored their bundles’ banter.  “So you’re not his mother?”

“No,” Nanny said.  “Though I do love the little stinker.”

“How do you know the diaper changing song?” Charlie’s mother asked.  “Are you an employee over there?  I’ve never seen you.”

Mismatched eyes glimmered with mischief.  “Sort of.  Used to be.  I founded it.”

Charlie snapped his jaw shut, resetting it.  “You…?”  His hands went down between his legs.  Tommy suspected that the new boy had just wet himself again.

Tommy looked from one woman to the other: one real and seemingly entranced; just like those girls; just like his sister; just like his old classmates; just like his mom.  The other, not quite real, with a twinkle in her eye as if she were in on some kind of joke or very special secret.  Maybe both.

Charlie’s mother seemed unaware of his muttering and outcries beyond anything but maybe tone.  Unconsciously shushing him or comforting him with little hugs and pecks whenever he’d spoken up.  Nanny did the same, but there was something going on her head.  She definitely heard and understood all sides of this encounter.

“But you’re so young,” there was a hint of awe in the older woman’s voice.  Perhaps jealousy too.

“I’m well preserved,” Nanny replied.  “These boys aren’t the only ones with a serious case of baby face.”  The two women had a good laugh there.  “You look great, too.”

“Thank you! I try!”  Then she pressed on.  “So you’re his, what?  Babysitter?”

Another giggle.  “I prefer ‘Nanny’.  I’m trying to convince his mother to enroll him in the daycare.  Right now she’s got him in Pull-Ups most of the time.”  Tommy felt his head start to be patted.  “Never mind that he’s nowhere NEAR ready to go potty like a big boy.  He just goes right in his pants like a widdle baby.  I think SOMEONE’s in denial about the whole thing, if I’m being honest.”

“Charlie’s never going to be potty trained,” his mother echoed.  Her voice went up to the octave reserved exclusively for children who didn’t know any better.  “Even though he’s thirty-six, he’s still gonna be Mama’s widdle baby, an eat his num-nums in a highchair, an’ sweep in his cwib an’ never ever ever gwow up!   And I just love that about him!”

Tommy was discovering an interesting psychological effect, just then.  It felt much different when someone baby talked TO you than it did when they did it ABOUT you.  Tommy felt something of a mix between white hot embarrassment and red hot arousal.  He might’ve yelled “STOP”, but he didn’t bother; both because he suspected he’d be ignored, and he’d be lying.

“It’s so much easier!” Nanny cheered

The mother agreed .“So much!”  She looked at Tommy sitting in his borrowed Luvs.  “So you’re going behind Mommy’s back?”

“For now.  Like I said, he’s still in Pull-Ups, even if he uses them like diapers.  Somebody’s in a bit of denial.”  Tommy felt that his mother wasn’t the one being gossipped about right there.

A wistful sigh came out of the normal woman.  “I’m so glad that I didn’t go through that kind of denial with my Charlie.”  She cooed down at the infantilized man, “No I didn’t. No I didn’t.  I was so happy, relieved even when I found out I’d never have to worry about Kindergarten or college, or him getting some girl pregnant.”

“Sure,”  Nanny grinned.  “That’s totally how it happened.”  The light sarcasm totally went over the other woman’s head.  Nanny looked off into the distance. “Looks like those bigger kids are off the playground.  Why don’t we let the boys play?”

“Great idea!”

And so playmats were packed up, diaper bags shouldered, and the two man-babies taken over to a playground where the most extraordinary thing was them.  “I think the sandbox is a good place for them to start.”  Nanny took a moment to dig around and make sure that sand and plastic shovels and buckets were the ONLY things in the little square box.

With practiced and casual pace, Tommy found himself sitting in the fine dirt next to the only other person he’d seen that was like...well...him.  “You two play nice,” Charlie’s mom instructed.  

Charlie?  There was something familiar with that name.  Oddly familiar, but Tommy couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

The two adults walked away and began gabbing just out of earshot.  Lots of reminiscent laughter and knowing chuckles.  Tommy watched.  Were they swapping baby toys?

“Hey,” the older man-baby whispered to Tommy.  “Hey!”  Tommy looked over to Charlie. “What the fuck?!”  His voice was quiet but his tone was confused and harsh.

Tommy nearly jumped.  No one had talked to him like that in what felt like forever.  “Huh?”

“You can understand me?” Charlie hissed.  “You know what I’m saying?  What they’re saying?  You speak English?  Fuck it.  You speak any language?”

What an odd question.  Tommy shrugged.  ‘Yeah.  I guess!”  Soft wood and softer sand cushioned Tommy’s fall.  Charlie had tackled Tommy; not in an angry way but rather like a great dane that doesn’t realize just how big it is.  Even though Tommy was slightly taller than the other man, the older ‘baby’ was still thicker.  Had they been to scale, Charlie likely would have had a good fifty pounds on him; most of it fat, but fat was an asset when you had gravity on your side.

“Oh my god! Oh my god!  I can’t believe it!  I can’t fuckin’ believe it!”  Tommy was surprised the other dude wasn’t kissing him.

“CHARLIE!” The older of the two women shrieked.  “I TOLD YOU TO PLAY NICE!”

Charlie stood up, and shot his hand down to Tommy. “No! No! We’re fine, Mommy!”  He looked down at Tommy, eyes pleading.  “Come on, dude, take my hand...”  Tommy did.  “See?!  We’re fine!  Everything’s fine!  All good!  Just a couple of good babies!”

Nanny didn’t seem nearly as worried as Charlie’s mother.  “Have fun, Tommy!”  That made Tommy worried.

A strong hand clasped his wrist.  “Come on!” Charlie urged.  “Other side of the playground.  We need to...talk.”  Charlie sounded kind of choked up on the talk part.  Tommy followed. The slide on the other end of the playground was straight and wide.  Easy for two tykes to go down side by side in tandem.  Easy for two men the size of little tykes to sit at the bottom and have their conversation with a modicum of privacy.

“What is going on?” Tommy finally asked.

“I should be asking you the same question,” Charlie responded.  “How can you still talk so good?”

Tommy thought to correct the man’s grammar but instead replied.  “I’m not really a baby.”

Charlie slapped his forehead.  “No shit, Sherlock!  I can tell.  How come you can tell, though?  Everybody else like us is down to like...three word sentences, and that’s on a good day.”

Tommy thought about it.  Everyone DID expect him to be less intelligent than he actually was.  He’d assumed it was part of the magic that was affecting him.  “I don’t know,” Tommy finally said.  “Right now, I’m mostly wearing Pull-Ups.  Nanny put me Huggies as…” he blushed.  “As a treat, I guess.”

If he expected disgust or scorn from the other baby, he didn’t get it.  “Nah, that can’t be it.  Sometimes newbies get booked into Daycare just before the final switch.  You should be obsessed over kid stuff right now.  Bob the Builder.  Bubble Guppies.  Dora.”
“Paw Patrol?”

“Yeah, like that.”

Tommy looked away.  “I do really like Paw Patrol,” he admitted.

“It’s a pretty good show,” Charlie agreed.  “Definitely an interesting look at an adult world through kids eyes; kind of empowering, too.”  Tommy smiled.  Was this kid doing thematic analysis of a kid’s show?  “But not the point.  You should have the vocabulary of maaaaaaybe a two year old by this point.  What gives?”

Tommy had no idea. He wasn’t sure how any of this worked; until one socially uncomfortable change ago he didn’t know there was anyone like him at all.  He didn’t say anything.  He just shrugged, grasping for words that wouldn’t quite come.

“You’re past the cloth trainers stage, right?” Charlie pressed.  “The padded underwear for little accidents?”

Tommy dry swallowed. “Yeah…”  Then his mind caught up with his heart.  “Wait a second.  Daycare?!  Everybody else?!  There’s more?!  Like us?!  Here?!”  

Charlie didn’t answer right away.  Tommy could tell by the glassy eyes and the trembling face that this new wrinkle in his life was fighting back tears.  Is this what he looked like when he was on the verge of bawling.

“Not like us,” Charlie finally choked out.  “And not here.”  He was shaking.  “Not heeeeer-” he started sobbing quietly into his own hands.  Tommy, for once having to be the strong one, patted his companion on the back, feeling each sob wrack through the other boy’s body and into his arm. “I’m sorry,” the boy said when he’d regained enough composure to speak.  “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy lied so that the other’s breathing would start to slow.  “I understand.”  In truth, he didn’t understand any of this.

The pudgier boy looked down at himself as if seeing himself from the outside..  “I’m not normally like this,” he said.  “It’s just...it’s just...you don’t know what it’s like.  You’re the first person that I’ve been able to talk to in close to twenty years!”

“Shit!” The word sounded even dirtier to Tommy’s ears coming out of his own mouth; but it felt appropriate. “That long?”

The guy wiped his nose on his sleeve.  “Yeah.  Everybody else that I’ve met, nine out of ten times they’re cracked by the time they get to me.” He sniffed.  “And the ones that aren’t crack after a day or so.”  Tommy remained silent.  He’d watched enough soliloquies and monologues and solos to know that sometimes people just needed to talk.  “Then it’s all poopie, peepie, baba, gaga, goo-goo.  Not exactly the most stimulating of conversations.  Some of them are pretty good at hide an’ seek, though.”

“How’d this happen to you?” Tommy.

Charlie stood up and faced Tommy.  “I used to be a normal kid.”  An unusual statement considering his diaper was definitely wet again.  “Then I found this old ass clock.”

Tommy felt his breath try and leap out of his lungs.  Deja Vu!  “Yeah?”

Charlie didn’t need further prompting.  “And I went to this fantasy land. And everytime I came out, I found myself a little smaller, and everybody else thinking I was a little bit cuter and a little bit dumber.”

“Same.”

“I went from the regular class to the dumb kid class, to being too dumb for school...” It was like he’d read the book of Tommy’s life. “And now I’m barely a toddler in most people’s eyes.  Even when they hear my actual age.”  The world was bobbing up and down with Tommy’s nodding.   “And not just that, but I also keep liking baby stuff a little more.  Not just liking, but…” He thrust his hips a little bit. “You know…? I’m an adult baby. And I mean an ADULT baby.”  

“Yeah,” Tommy felt himself flush.  “I know.  Me too…” Goddamn but did it feel good to be able to say that outloud and admit it to somebody else, (someone who wasn’t going to be changing him anyhow).

“Yeah, but everyone else I’ve met? Not so much.  They just go full…” Charlie stopped and sucked his thumb for emphasis.  “Know what I mean?”  

Tommy did. “So are you incont...not potty trained...anymore?”  Tommy couldn’t say why he was asking?  Anticipation?  Curiosity?  Jealousy? “And does your mom really not care?”  If he was going to end up playing dumb and pooping his pants full time, it’d be nice to not have Mom be perpetually exasperated with unrealistic expectations; and it’d be nice if those expectations were unrealistic due to a lack of ability instead of a lack of effort…

Charlie blinked.  “It’s about six of one, half a dozen of the other.  If I wasn’t already turned into a baby body, wearing twenty-four seven did the trick.”  He jiggled his tummy a little and frowned  “Kind of hard to keep in shape, too.  At least I got three hots and cot, though.”  No shame was in Charlie’s tone.  He’d long since made peace with this aspect of himself.

“The clock?” Tommy asked, changing the subject back.

“Oh yeah, “ Charlie said. “Not everybody babbles about clocks.  Sometimes it’s a closet, or under their bed, or a chest, or a path in the woods.  Different entrances, but all to the same place, I think”

Tommy stood up, if only so that he was once again more eye level than his new companion.  “It was the clock for me,” Tommy said.

“Huh,” Charlie crossed his arms.  “Must be a Scrumpton thing, maybe.”

“Where have you met them?” Tommy asked again, now that Charlie was calmer. “The others?”

A light came on behind Charlie’s eyes.  “Malacus.”

Tommy stepped back, almost tripping over himself and landing with his padded behind back on the slide.  “Um...that’s the name of the fantasy place, though.  With the dwarves and the elves and the centaurs.”

“Centaurs?  You mean satyrs, right?”

“Whatever,” Tommy said.  “You know what I mean.”

Charlie hung his head.  “Yeah.  And you’re right.  Half right anyways.  The front half of Malacus is all mystery and adventure.  The back half?  The end of the line?  It’s a daycare.  Near as I can tell it’s got just as many entrances as the front,  but it’s where we all go at the end of our stories...at least while our parents are at work.”  He reached down between his own legs and squeezed lightly.  “Crud.  Wet again already?”  He sighed.  “Whatever...”

Tommy didn’t know what to do.  Too much information all at once!  He should do something!  Should he do something? What was he going to do?  

“What’s your name, kid?”

Tommy looked out from himself.  “Oh yeah,” he said.  He stuck out his hand.  “My name’s Tommy. Nice to meet you.”

The boy called Charlie stuck out his hand.  “Charles,” he said.

Another fire burned in Tommy’s brain.  “Watson?”

The other, older yet younger, boy jerked back.  Unlike Tommy, he DID trip over his own feet and fall backwards on his padded ass.  “How’d you know my last name?”  he asked.

“The cave,” Tommy said.  “The cave inside the clock.  I saw your name scribbled in algae.”

Charlie paused.  And stared.  And blinked.  He grunted a little bit.  Tommy couldn’t tell but maybe he was pooping…?  The only half-way rude noise that came out of Charlie came out of his mouth.  “HAAAAAA! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HAAAAAAA! OH MY FUCKIN’ GOD!”

“What?” Tommy asked, what.  H. was leaning over to help the little man up.  “What?”

“I haven’t thought about that in years!” Charlie barked.  He accepted the help.  “I just did it to be cool or something.  I don’t know why I did it.  I was just a stupid kid.  About your age.  No offense.”

The younger of the two chuckled.  ‘Heh,” Tommy said.  “That’s funny.  I saw yours and I did the same thing.”

The realization hit both of them simultaneously.  

“Wait...”

“You don’t think…?”

“Is that why?”

“Has to be.”

“It’s like we signed our name on a contract with Satan or something,” Charlie said.  “Like in all those old horror novels I used to read!”

“Or like we put a piece of ourselves away for safekeeping that could never be deleted.” Tommy added.  “Like something from a musical!”

The two new friends shook their heads at each other in wonder.  It was fate.  Pure kismet.  The universe acting by design to bring them together.  

For Charlie, Tommy might have been his first friend, his first equal in close to two decades.

For Tommy, Charlie might have been his first friend...

******************************************************************************************
Katy ran down the stairs, checking her phone.  Her date was almost there.  He was taking her out to a matinee and maybe an early dinner, but she was thirsty now.  Overpriced soda and popcorn to wait..

The fridge opened with a hiss as she pulled the door open.  Huh.  That was weird.  Even though a thick cloud of mist puffed out when she opened it, the inside of the fridge didn’t feel any cooler.  “Mom!” Katy called out into the house.  “We’re out of soda.”

“Try water!”  Mom called back.  “It’s better for you.”

Katy felt a pout coming on.  If she’d wanted water she wouldn’t have gone to the fridge.  Her eye landed on a baby bottle.  Odd, since Tommy had at least managed to graduate to sippy cups years ago.  Maybe that new babysitter chick that had suckered Mom had brought it.

Tommy didn’t need a bottle.  Bottles were for…

For…

A terrible, naughty idea popped into Katy Dean’s brain.  “What about some juice?” she called out.  “Is juice okay?”

There was a pause.  “Sure.” Mom called back from wherever she was.  “Juice is fine.”

Good enough for Katy. A guilty smile spread out over the young lady’s lips as she reached for the baby bottle filled with amber liquid.  Apple juice would taste so much better coming from a rubber nipple.