Fortunate Son (Patreon)

Lance Corporal Matthew Maddox stood at attention with the rest of his squadron just before deployment.  A few generations ago, Matthew could have been a professional athlete.  Basketball maybe, at six foot eight, he was tall enough.  Perhaps MMA.  He definitely had a fighter’s physique and stamina.  Maybe even pro-wrestling; (getting paid to pretend to fight people would’ve beaten the hell out of this).

This wasn’t a few generations ago, however.  Earth was at war.  Earth was always at war.  As soon as space travel beyond Earth’s moon had been developed, Earth had drawn the attention of most every galactic power around.  Some first contacts had been good.  Most had been...rough.

The good news was that such incidences had managed to unite Earth’s various people into something resembling a cohesive unit.  Nothing unites humans more than enemies outside the gate.  The bad news was, of course, that there were enemies outside the gate.

Earth didn’t have a draft.  Didn’t need one, mostly.  Overpopulation, a rough civil economy and benefits to the families of the enlisted was enough for most folks.  It’d been enough for Matthew.  Being the oldest of what some might call a litter of kids, meant that Matthew had to grow up fast. Lack of money and opportunity pretty much guaranteed that he’d be enlisting and doing his duty for his planet.  The recruiter had been practically drooling over him when he went to enlist.

This particular war was against the Yuggoths.  Yuggoths were these creepy lookin’ mother fuckers that lived just on the edge of Earth’s Solar System.  They were blind, but had sixth and seventh and eighth senses or some shit.   Based on photographs, Matthew figured it was a good thing they were blind.  They weren’t exactly sentient, either, according to the briefings and propaganda.  More like they all had one communal mind that existed outside of themselves.  So blasting a Yuggoth was more like blasting a single cell in a much larger organism.   No pain.  No loss of overall life...the Yugoths weren’t even people as much as giant cancer cells..

That made Matthew feel better about all the Yuggos he’d blasted over the last couple of weeks.  He’d seen enough buddies from basic get consumed by ‘em too as those gelatinous bodies overtook them or those tentacles with the piercing through their armor.  Some people thought that a nutjob in the 1900’s had made contact with those freaks and it broke him.

Matthew didn’t know.  Matthew didn’t care.  He was just glad his armor had a visor on it to keep the Yug blood off his face.

“HOPLITES ON DECK!” A voice called.

Even standing at attention, Matthew stood up a little straighter than before.  There was no draft on Earth.  Didn’t need one.  Overpopulation and benefits was one reason.   Hoplites were another.  Hoplites might’ve been grown in vats, or unwanted orphans taken in by the government and spliced up.  They might have been convicted criminals who enlisted for experiments to avoid the death penalty. Mathew didn’t know.

They looked like gods though, in their shining full body armor, their billowing red capes.  The first time he’d seen them in person, Mathew had scoffed at the capes from behind his helmet.  When a cape had darted right in front of Matthew’s face to block a Yuggoth acid spray, while its wearer blasted the slimy sumbitch; Mathew had gained greater respect for it.  

Hoplite gear-cape included- was filled with high tech gizmos; nanites or some shit.  A Hoplite could use their cape like a shield or wrap it around themselves and go invisible with a cloaking field.  Sometimes- like with Matthew- the capes reached out and did their own thing.

It wasn’t just the tech or the fancy armor that made the Hoplites so elite. Hoplites themselves were exceptional.  They were faster, stronger, tougher, and had better reflexes than were humanly possible.  A single Hoplite, sans armor could likely take on an entire platoon in a bare knuckle streetfight.  

Matthew was never going to be a Hoplite. Hoplites weren’t promoted; they were made.  They fought alongside humans, but they weren’t human themselves; not quite.

The armored gods started going through the ranks of assembled marines; each super soldier going down a line of jarheads.  “Don’t worry.  I will protect you.”  It’s what they always said.  It was their ritual right before battle.  With few exceptions, it was the only time an enlisted soldier and a Hoplite communicated outside of battle.  “Don’t worry.  I will protect you.”

 “And I will fight for Earth,”  Came the response.

“Don’t worry.  I will protect you.”

“And I will fight for Earth.”

It was an assembly line of meaningless vows and exchanged promises, but for some reason it made Matthew feel a tad bit safer.

One of them was now directly in front of Matthew now.  His turn.  “Don’t worry.  I will protect you.”

Matthew angled his head downward.  He was a good foot taller than this one, for all it mattered.   “And I will fi-”  he stopped.  From behind his helmet, he let out a gasp of surprise.   The Hoplite had taken off his helmet.  No, not his.  Her helmet.

The Hoplite had taken off his...its...her helmet!  Hoplites never did that!  Matthew had always assumed they couldn’t, or that whatever process gave them their superior physical capabilities horrendously scarred them.  In the back of his mind, Matthew had just assumed that Hoplites were genderless, and if they had a gender, they’d most certainly be male.  Yet right in front of him was the face of one of the most beautiful women he’d seen in his entire life.  She wore no makeup and her haircut was the same short butch aesthetic that most lady marines favored, but even encased in Hoplite armor she was gorgeous.

“Don’t worry,” she said again, clear as day.  “I will protect you.”  There was no edge of anger or impatience in her voice.  Call and response, that’s all it was.  Call and response.

“And I will fight…” Matthew still stuttered, “I will fight for Earth.”

She moved onto the next marine in line.  “Don’t worry.  I will protect you.”

“And I will fight for Earth.”

*******************************************************************************************************

Matthew collapsed into his bunk, exhausted and having just showered the smell of dead Yuggoth off of him. None of the alien monsters actually got on him, per se, but there was something about the smell that just seemed to seep through the armor.  Top Terran science assured soldiers that it was psycho symptomatic, but Matthew showered extra long and scrubbed himself raw after nearly every combat mission.  It was more than his own stewed in sweat that he smelled.

The complete thoroughness of the scrubbing- bordering on obsession- was an eccentricity to be sure, but it served a dual purpose.  By the time Matthew got out of the showers, the rest of the barracks was cleared out; the rest of his platoon having already gone for RnR elsewhere on the ship.

Being the oldest of so many kids, privacy was one of the few luxuries that Matthew rarely got to experience.  There was something serene about being alone.  Privacy also allowed for other, more discreet activities.  Making sure the coast was clear, and holding his breath, Matthew dug into the foot locker by his bunk; dug deep.

Down at the bottom, he kept a Neural Recall Device- a “nerd” the troops called them.  N.R.D’s allowed for perfect recall of specific events, taking the subject’s mind’s eye and projecting it on a headset in perfect clarity.  Cavemen had “Home Movies”.  Modern man had “nerds”.   Good for homesickness. Also good for reliving dates that ended particularly well.  In his own weird way, Matthew was kind of doing both.

From beneath his locker’s false bottom, Matthew retrieved another item that was deeply personal.  Like the “nerd”, the thin disposable diaper wasn’t technically contraband.  Unlike the “nerd”,  Matthew was more than a little worried about being caught with it.

No one blinked, if they found you zonked out or teary eyed jacked into an N.R.D.  You might get razzed a little bit for being homesick, but then somebody would clap you on the back and say “same here”.   Pretty much every marine had one of the gizmos in their footlocker.  

Every now and then, there’d be talk of Private Wusshisname or Corporal Soandso being caught jerking it while viewing a particularly lust filled memory.  “You never forget your first,” someone would say.  

“Pfft, for Corporal Soandso?” the joke would go, “that’s first and only.”

“Do you think he’s jerking it to himself jerking it?”

“Naw, nerds only do memories, not fantasies. And he’s not an officer so he can’t be in love with his own dick.”  That got a lot of laughs around the mess hall.

The diaper in Matthew’s hands would get a lot of laughs, too.  As big and athletic as Matthew was,  the idea of a grown man laying in his bunk in a diaper was knee slapping hilarious.  But there were some memories that Matthew liked to revisit much more than others.  And the N.R.D. only dug up visual and auditory memory; sensory input was needed.

Slowly and carefully, as if the slight crinkle was a ticking time bomb- one wrong move and then boom- Matthew unfolded the diaper.  To call it a “diaper” was an overstatement.  “Medical brief” was a more apt descriptor.  Plane white with a thin wetness indicator going down the middle and four cheap tapes.

Lots of soldiers wore these things. Easier to pee in on a long night of surveillance or ducking in some crater, than actually dropping trow in an alien atmosphere. The ship’s locker room even had a garbage de-atomizer for disposal purposes.  Plenty of soldiers wore a diaper. Just none of them wore one off duty.

Quick as a hiccup, Matthew laid down on top of the diaper and yanked it up between his legs over his manhood.  He knew how to do it standing up of course, but something just felt right about doing it this way.  God, he wished he had some baby powder, but Matthew was too paranoid to risk the smell lingering.  The diaper never fit quite the way he wanted it to, either, but it was good enough.  Sitting up briefly, he grabbed a pair of loose fitting shorts and shimmied them up his hips before lying down again.

Now for the easy part.

He put on the N.R.D.  The visor went neatly over his eyes.  The earpiece giving only the slightest pinch as the needle shot out to interface with his brain.  A small bit of pain, then nothing.  After a hard day of defending Earth, Matthew was going to go back to one of his favorite memories; one he couldn’t have possibly recalled without the help of technology.

The world fuzzed out for a second as the memory sequence was retrieved.  Then, through the visor, Matthew started looking back through his own eyes.  

Back when he was much smaller and the world seemed much simpler.  Back when he was an only child.

The memory played out like it always did.  “Good morning, baby boy!” His impossibly young mother chirped at him from above the bars of his crib.  “Did you sleep well? I bet you did!  I bet you did!  Mommy was listening to the monitor all night long and you didn’t make one little peep.”

In his ear, Matthew heard his much younger self cooing and babbling happily as he was picked up out of the crib and carried over to the changing table. This was nice.  Way back when when Matthew didn’t have to be the big boy, or the big brother, or the big anything.  He could just be himself...the baby.  Oh to turn back the clock to then and be allowed to babble if he felt like it!

Matthew smiled as the memory of his mother unbuttoning his sleeper and changing his diaper played out in front of him.  Truth be told, the diaper change was his least favorite part, but not because he objected to them or was embarrassed.  

It was a matter of discontinuity:  N.R.D’s only played back sight and sound, when Matthew deeply craved the full experience.  When it came to diapers he’d either be dry when he should be wet before the change, or wet right after the change when he should be dry.  He just couldn’t change himself fast enough in real time as the memories played back, (and didn’t want to risk getting caught in the act, either).

When he wanted wetness, he’d do the deed himself, and then find a memory that ended with him being checked and declared wet.  Matthew didn’t know if the baby version of him had started the memory wet, or had unknowingly peed his pants halfway through a round of pattycake in the highchair...and that was kind of the point.  

Part of his infatuation for the past meant going back to a time when nothing was expected of him; even knowing when his pants were dry.


For this memory, it was the opposite. Matthew had to content himself with whispering “I’m wet, I’m wet, and then letting out a contented sigh as the memory of a dry diaper (a real one...not a medical brief) was played in front of his eyes. He shivered and kicked his legs in time with the memory as each snap on his sleeper was done up.

“I bet that feels soooo much better,” the memory of his mother cooed, as the old was replaced by the new.  Apparently the baby version of him agreed with a babbling chorus.  “I bet your hungry, too.  Aren’t you?”  The changing table was falling away from him.  The nursery- his nursery-flew by, and suddenly he was cradled back in loving arms, looking back up at the beautiful friendly face.

Matthew nodded a little in real life, even as the memory babbled on.  Yes. He was hungry.  Hungry for intimacy.  Hungry for privacy.  Hungry for a complete lack of responsibility or restraint.

He watched as his mother, who then couldn’t have been older than him, opened her blouse and opened the front left cup of her nursing bra.  The memory went flesh colored darkness and Matthew shuddered.  He closed his eyes, the memory went blind here anyways.

And since he couldn’t experience tactile sounds from the memory, Matthew made do with sucking his thumb.

“Lance Corporal Matthew Maddox.”

Matthew’s eyes shot open and he jumped to his feet.  With alacrity that surprised even himself, Matthew tore off the NRD.  He stood at attention, not even knowing or caring who was addressing him in the heat of the moment.  His training had just registered someone referring to him by rank and name and with the tone that they had the authority to do it.  

 A stranger stood in front of him.  A woman.  No. Not just a woman.

“Hoplite?”  Matthew stuttered.  His mind scrambled to remember what rank Hoplites technically were.  “I mean...Lieutenant!  You’re the one that..that...that...” that promised to protect him.  And she had.  There were at least three Yuggoths sans whatever passed for heads today so that Matthew could keep his.  She’d done it with a sword. A fucking sword!

“Why are you wearing a medical brief and sucking your thumb?”  The tone sounded strange and clinical.  Detached almost.  God was she hot, though.  If he hadn’t seen her face outside of the Hoplite armor and that fancy red cape, he wouldn’t have recognized her at all.  Damn, but that suit hid a lot of curves!  

For all his precautions of getting into the diaper and loading up memories from being a baby, Matthew had prepared absolutely no clever lies or excuses if he got caught.  Now he’d been caught by someone who was both a superior officer, and technically a superior lifeform. “I...I...I…” No clever quips or lies were forthcoming.  His skin was turning lobster re  Then something occurred to him. “What are you doing here?  I thought Hoplites were stationed in their own part of the ship...with the officers.”

The Hoplite did not blink.  Did not flinch.  “Do you normally wear diapers for recreational purposes?”  Again.  Completely clinical.

“Um...yes sir?  I mean ma’am...sir…!  Lieutenant!”

“And relive memories of early childhood on your Neural Replay Device?”  How did she know that?! Nobody could know what was being played back on an NRD unless they were hardwired in themselves! “Do you enjoy those memories of being a baby?”  Rephrasing the question did’t help matters.

“Uh...uh...I mean...err…”  Matthew was so flabbergasted, so completely afraid, that internally he swore he would have wet his diaper were he able. In fact, it might’ve made him feel better in a weird way.

The super soldier put him out of his misery.

Sort of.

“You will meet me in my quarters tomorrow afternoon.  Thirteen hundred hours.”  This was not a request.

Matthew stood back at attention, feeling rather small despite how much bigger he was than the woman.  “Sir, yes sir!”

She picked up the device and handed it back to Matthew.  “As you were.”  The Hoplite turned to leave.

“Sir!” Matthew called out before the wonder of a woman exited the bunk.  “Ma’am!” She stopped and turned around, gazing at the Lance Corporal like a hungry lioness did a gazelle.  “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, are you?”

The Hoplite blinked.  Then smiled a bit.  It was weird watching one of the demi-gods smile.  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I will protect you.”

************************************************************************************************************
Matthew stood in front of the Hoplite’s door on the other wing of the ship, working up the nerve to ring the buzzer.  “Lieutenant Madeline Sterling,” the label on the door read.  Beneath the name was the shield and spear symbol of the Hoplites just in case there was any doubts.  Officers, especially Hoplites, all got their own private quarters, and this was the only Hoplite with a lady’s name.  So yeah...process of elimination….right place…

If only the “right time” could be never.

The young man was apprehensive; afraid even.  What did this beautiful monster want from him?  And how did she know about his dirty little secret.  Fidgeting, he waited as his courage started to drain and fail him.  Maybe, he thought, if he waited out here long enough some other officer would see him and chase him off; maybe give him some kind of assignment or busy work that he just couldn’t get out of.  No way, could he be in trouble then.

The door to the Hoplite’s quarters hissed open.  “It’s thirteen hundred,” came that same feminine, commanding voice.  “Enter.”

The lance corporal’s feet betrayed him and walked into the room as he was bidden. His jaw betrayed him and dropped as soon as his brain registered what his eyes were taking in..  This room was at least as big as his entire bunkhouse!

Swanky, too! Shag carpet.  A king sized bed.  A wooden foot locker that was almost the size of a bunk!  A bathroom area with a jacuzzi style bathtub!  An actual fucking closet!  This was closer to a hotel suite than anything in the military.

The woman who had beckoned him inwards looked completely different, too.  She still had the same short haircut and piercing gaze, but she wore neither the combat armor nor any sort of military garb that might indicate her .  Instead, wrapped around her was a silken red dress that went down to just below the knee and left her shoulders bare.  Without the carbonium plating of the Hoplite armor, her breasts were very shapely.  She had an athletic frame, because of course she did, but everything else about her reeked of a kind of gentle femininity.  

In a way her name was appropriate.  She looked kind of like a Madeline out of the armor.  Inside the armor...pure shiny cold sterling.

Had Matthew seen a girl like her on leave, he would have totally tried to hit on her; maybe use his uniform to get laid.  Something about seeing a super soldier in civies had the opposite effect.  This lady could kill him without breaking a sweat, and then blend into the crowd and go about her day at a yoga class or 5k “fun run”....also without breaking a sweat.

“Um…nice place,” he said, not sure of what else to say.  “How can I uh...help you?”

The woman’s face remained as neutral as it always had.  “Thank you.  Hoplites get preferential living arrangements.  One of the perks for our sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice?”

She didn’t clarify.  She pointed in the direction of her bed.  “Go lay down and take your pants off.” Matthew went to move before she stopped them.  “On second thought, don’t take them off.  I wish to do that myself.”

Blood rushed to Matthew’s face (as well as other parts) and his throat went dry.  Was this a booty call?  Was he being whored out?  Was he part of a “preferential living arrangement”?  On shaky legs, Matthew wobbled over to the bed.

“No,” the Hoplite’s voice cut in.  “Not the bed. To your left.  Ten O’Clock.”  Matthew adjusted his gaze over to a thick oak dresser next to the bed.  Except something seemed...off about it, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.  “Lay down.”

The young man approached the heavy wooden box and ran the palm of his hand over the vinyl mat on top.  This thing was big, big enough where he could feasibly lay down on it comfortably.  The mat was strange too, with decorations of cartoon rainbows and stars on it.  This was getting weird...

“Is there a problem?” she asked.

Matthew shuddered.  Then lied.  “No. Not at all.”  A thousand questions bubbled up in Matthew’s mind as he slid on top of the dresser’s mat.  But like a crowd shouting at each other, he couldn’t pick out and give voice to just one.

In the blink of an eye, she was standing next to him, looking down at him.  That same thin, hungry, almost mischievous smile spread out past her lps.  “Don’t worry.” she said.  “I’ll take care of you.”

What she said...not just WHAT she said but HOW she said it made Matthew’s heart start to thud on all cylinders.  It was like a cross between the girls in a porno movie and….and certain memories that he liked to relive.

“I…”

“Shhh…” she put a finger to his lips.  “Just let me do this first.  Then you can ask all the questions you want.”  Matthew closed his mouth and nodded, trying to control his breathing.

Two dainty fingers slipped into the waistband of his shorts, deftly yanking them off his hips without any help.  He would have lifted them up if she had asked; but she needn’t have.  “Hmm...I’d hoped you’d wear a medical brief.”  She looked down at his boxers and twerked her lips to the side in disappointment.  “My fault for not specifying it in instructions.  Next time, perhaps.”

Next time?

The marine barely had time to ponder that when his boxers were stripped off him and left in a cloth puddle next to his pants.  He shook in anticipation and anxiety.  Was this happening?  Was he about to get mounted?!

No.  No he wasn’t.  Madeline Sterling- it was getting harder and harder to think of her as “Lieutenant” or “Hoplite”- opened the top drawer.  No panties came out.  No condoms either.  This wasn’t an underwear drawer.

The thick, crinkly, white, plastic backed thing decorated with red and yellow and blue puppy dogs all over that she’d taken out connected the final few dots in Matthew’s mind.  This wasn’t a dresser, it was a changing table.  And Matthew was the baby!

He sucked in his breath as the diaper was unfolded and slid underneath him without his help.  Matthew didn’t resist.  He was afraid to resist.  He didn’t want to either.  Another drawer revealed a bottle of baby powder.  

“This is just like my memory,” whispered to himself as a cloud of cold white powder coated his front and backside.  Just like any number of relived moments through the “nerd”.  Just like it, except that he himself was bigger, and the woman diapering him was more attractive to him than his mother could ever be.  “W..wh...wh?”

The superwoman dug a rather large pacifier out of her dress.  “Suck on this, little one.”  He wasn’t going to, but then she called him “little one” and then he couldn’t resist.  He suckled on the rubber teat frantically as the diaper was brought up and taped together.  

From behind the pacifier he let out a low moan.  It felt sooooo much better than when he did it himself.  She smiled at the sounds he made.  “Do you like that?”  She didn’t wait for an answer.  “I bet you do!”  Her voice went up a half octave.  She was cooing at him.  “Babies just love getting their diapees changed!”

What the fuck was going on and why didn’t Matthew care what the answer was?!

This time, when he was picked up off the changing table, he felt the air rush by him as the much stronger woman supported his padded rump and transported him over to the bed.  “You just keep sucking, and I’ll do the talking.  Okay?”  

Still sucking on the giant pacifier, Matthew just nodded.

“I’m a Hoplite,” she said.  “I’ve been genetically modified to go beyond the peak of human physical capabilities.”  This much was obvious.  Her tone returned to the same clinical, almost detached tone that Matthew had expected from Hoplites.  “But there are costs to it.  Most relevant here is that I’m unable to have children.”

She paused for a moment and gestured to the damn near stately manor that was her quarters.  “I’m entitled to most any physical comfort I could want when off duty...but the military can’t give me what I want most.  I was born to be a mother.  I was selected to be a soldier.  I have a need.”  She looked at Matthew and gently caressed the side of his face.  “Can you help me with that need, Matthew?”

His eyes darted around the room. Then back to below his waist.  Hell yeah, he could help her!  But he still had one question burning in his brain.  He took the pacifier out of his mouth.  “Why me?”  Then he added.  “Sir...ma’am...Lieutenant?”

The superwoman caressed his cheek again and sent happy tingles all through his body.  “Hoplites are all low level telepaths,” she told him.  “Helps to anticipate enemy combatants.”  That explained a few things.  “I sensed your attraction in the lineup.  And then I sensed what you were looking at on the Neural Replay Device.“ And that explained a few more.  “I also know that you were very much enjoying what I was doing to you on the changing table.”  She blushed.  “Though I don’t know if I’d need to be a telepath to know that.”

A hot flash blossomed over Matthew’s face.  “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” Daintily, she booped him on the nose.  “Little baby can’t help himself.”  Matthew sucked in his breath, and the woman’s facial expression retreated.  “Apologies. You’re conflicted.”  She stood up from the bed.  “Let me be frank.  I think we can help each other.  You can help me take care and nurture someone outside of combat,  and I can help you make some new memories.” She paused.  “But even though I can sense your thoughts, I won’t do it without your express verbal consent.”

“Okay…” Matthew said, fiddling with the pacifier.  “Sure.”

“So I have your consent to Mommy you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

One last shuddering breath rattled out of his lungs.  “Yes...Mommy…”

The red dress slipped away from her; not entirely, just enough to expose her breast. Briefly, Matthew realized that it was the same material as her cape.  It could have been the cape for all he knew.  He sat there transfixed on her breast, as a few drops of mother’s milk leaking out from her nipples. 

Gently, she wrapped her hand around the back of his head.  “Come to Mommy.”  She didn’t need to guide his lips to her nipple, but she did. As the milk dribbled out into Matthew’s mouth- a sensation that had never been duplicated by the NRD- the pacifier was completely forgotten.  But just like always, he closed his eyes and pulled on the teat.  No thumb this time.

Now it was his Mommy’s turn to start moaning.  It was almost like a purr as he suckled.  His own moans synced up with hers.  “That’s right baby,” she cooed at him, gently rubbing his back and petting his head.  “Eat up.  Such a good little eater he is.”  She moaned again.  “Yes he is!”

How he had longed to hear those words instead of just remembering them.  How complete.  How right it felt to hear them from some place outside of his own mind.

Wordlessly, he was switched over to the other breast and continued to nurse there.  He would do it.  He would eat it all up like a good little boy.  A good baby.  Not a single dribble would escape his lips.

Speaking of dribble, another sensation creeped into the back of his mind.  He had to pee.  But he’d never done something like that before, not in front of another person.  Not outside of his long ago memory.

 “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here,” she cooed as he nursed.  “Babies don’t have to be embarrassed about wetting their diapees.  Mommy will just change you when you need it.”  It might have been the excitement at acceptance; or perhaps Hoplites could influence thoughts as well as sense them;, but Matthew’s bladder chose that moment to relax.

Just like a baby, just like he’d always dreamt of, Matthew unabashedly flooded his diaper.  It was almost nothing like a medical brief; so much better in fact.  The thin padding that he normally indulged in was nothing compared to this.  It contained, but it sagged and he always felt wet in the worst way.  It was like peeing into a plastic shopping bag lined with band-aid cores.

This?  Yeah, the diaper sagged a little with the extra weight, but it swelled too.  And it felt wet...but not sloshy.  Moist, perhaps.  As an afterthought, he squeezed his legs together, and felt the pulpy core push back.  He’d done it!  He’d wet his pants!  Except he wasn’t even wearing pants!  Pants were for big boys!  He’d wet his diaper!  And he did it all while nursing on an absolutely gorgeous woman’s tits.

The nursing ended too soon for Matthew’s liking.  What he liked even more however was the look of absolute satisfaction and adoration in his new Mommy’s eyes.  “There,” she cooed at him.  “So much better.  For both of us.”  

Right there.  In that moment.  He stopped being Lance Corporal Mathew Maddox and she stopped being Hoplite Lieutenant Madeline Sterling.  They were just a baby and his Mommy.

Gingerly, he looked back at the changing table.  “Hold on,” Mommy said, snaking a hand between his legs.  “Let Mommy check.”  He shook as she squeezed the front of his diaper, sneaking in two fingers on the inside past the leakguards just to be sure.  This was amazing!  Mommy didn’t even need to ask him.  He didn’t need to talk!  She could just sense what he was thinking!

“Hmmm…” Mommy clicked her tongue.  “You’re wet.  But not too wet. Let’s play some more and then Mommy will change you.”

A change.  A real diaper change.  Not boxers to brief, or a brief back into boxers, but a real diaper change.  A wet diaper changed for a clean one. 

Just a little wet.

Fighting off a whimper, he looked back to the changing table.  “Uh-uh-uh,” Mommy said. “You don’t have to worry about what’s going on in your diaper.  That’s my job.  Diapers are expensive, too.”

Diapers are expensive.

“Let’s play on the floor,” Mommy said.  It wasn’t a request.  Matthew found himself picked up and deposited on the floor next to the ornate wooden footlocker.  His new underwear (that wasn’t under anything) squished against the shag carpet ever so slightly.  Such a strange, foreign-yet-familiar sensation.  Outside of combat, he’d never worn wet for longer than a few minutes and now he was getting ready to play in a wet diaper.

Again, Mommy read his thoughts.  “Sitting in a wet diaper can affect potty training,” she told him.  “But you’re too little to worry about potty training anyway, aren’t you?”

Too little to potty train.

Matthew jumped inside his own head.

Just a little wet.
Diapers are expensive.
Too little to potty train.

Those phrases were burned in Matthew’s brain.  Some of the very few memories that he didn’t need an N.R.D. to access had those very phrases embedded in them.  Memories from long ago.  Before his mother was pregnant more often than not.  Back when he was the only child instead of the big brother. 

Back when he was the baby.

“First playtime.  Then a change,” Mommy assured him.  “After you’re more wet.  Or poopy.  Then, depending on how you’re feeling, more playtime.  Maybe some snuggling or some food.”  The baby started to do a kind of calculus in his head.  A bowel movement?  More play?  Snuggling? How long would he be there?

“It’s not even fourteen hundred hours,” Mommy cooed at him.  “I already checked our schedules.  Neither of us are due till at least o five hundred.  We’ve got plenty of time.”

Without further preamble, Mommy opened up the ornate wooden footlocker.  “Silly baby,” Mommy giggled.  “This isn’t not a footlocker.”  She showed him the inside.  “It’s a toy chest!”

Teddy bears and plastic blocks and tinker toys were all stacked inside. It was the opposite of a weapon cache.  It was a toy cache.  Baby Matthew could feel himself drooling over it.  All of this?  All of it for him?

“Yes, baby boy.” Mommy told him.  “All for you.  Just so long as you’re all for me.”

Matthew’s eyes started leaking.  The super human that had labeled herself his new Mommy held him tight.  He could hear the smile in her voice as she rubbed his back again.  “It’s okay.  I’ll protect you.  Mommy will take care of you.”

(The Beginning)