Ersatz (Part 11) (Patreon)

(Drew)

Drew brooded one morning on the play room floor.  He couldn’t say which morning, because he didn’t know anymore.  His personal timeline was a mixture of memories and imagination and it was getting harder and harder to tell which was which. He’d either just stumbled into Granny’s house or he’d almost always been here with Granny watching him and his friends while their Mommies and Daddies were away.  He was either a Grown-Up and got married, or he was a baby and had just gotten very good at pretending.

He ruminated on the question while he chewed on a cardboard book. Ever since he lost his teeth, the urge to chew on things had gotten stronger and stronger, like an itch that intensified every second until it was scratched.  Funnily enough, that realization kept him talking even less than before.  He hated that whenever he spoke a word all his friends could see the complete lack of teeth he had.

This contrasted with memories of them also being happy toothless babbling babes. They were merely early bloomers, or freaks with some kind of congenital condition.  He’d never admit it, but he wanted that to be true.  Drew hated being less than. He defined himself based on his ability to facilitate the needs of others. Lacking proper chompers somehow defined him as “less” than, even if he was functionally still the most able of the group.

He stopped chewing on the book and laid back on the padded floor; lifting his legs into the air while he examined its thick stiff pages for the millionth time. He couldn’t read it, because it wasn’t written in, Inglish. The markings all looked like scribble scrabble to him.  That or maybe Inglish wasn’t a real language, just something he imagined he knew.  He pushed the thought aside.  It was a real flip a coin scenario and the truth one way or another held no use to him.

Based on the pictures, the book seemed to fit Granny’s narrative. The colors were all bright and simple.  It featured an obvious baby in a suit and tie in an office building going to work.  But every picture changed something about his clothes or the environment. His suit would become a onesie. Baby toys would appear on a page where office supplies were.  His giant secretary would change his diaper on his desk, which was a changing table by the next page, and so on and so forth.   At the very end, it was obvious that he’d just been pretending all along.  By the last page, the game was over and he was happily being given a bottle by his Mommy.

Part of Drew wanted that to be him, if he was being honest with himself.  It’d be nice not to have the whole world upon one’s shoulders.

“NOT….” Brittney gasped.  She was standing up. Her knees bent and her fists clenched “A-A-A-...” she ran out of breath, but mouthed  “...again.”   Her knees buckled and she fell onto a pile on the floor convulsing and trying to rub herself through her diaper.  She’d be making stickies in her diaper whether she rubbed or not, but the urge was still there.

Drew rolled his eyes and sat up.  He didn’t so much as wince at the fresh lump being squished under his weight.  Drew was the only one not with the special cream rubbed all over him.  All of them messed and wet their diapers uncontrollably.  Drew just didn’t get off on it.  

Honestly, he was glad for it.  Watching his friends collapse and shudder every single time they got a little bit wetter or stinkier was getting tiresome.  Especially Brittney.

Rationally he knew this wasn’t her fault.  She couldn’t possibly know that Granny was going to punish him by sticking that nasty foam stuff in his mouth.  Even if he was unsure about the prior existence of his teeth, he still remembered that day unfondly.  She couldn’t have known that she was choosing who Granny would punish, but Drew couldn’t help but hold onto this kernel of resentment for some reason.

Look at her. Making stickies on the floor like it was some kind of curse; her mouth full of teeth and still able to walk and talk normally.  She’d gotten off light.  Brittney was great at giving orders but sucked at carrying them out.  The least babyish physically and the most at the same time.  How could he have been in love with someone like that?

Maybe it wasn’t love, Drew pondered. Perhaps it was just a playground crush. Something natural but one could understandably grow out of. He could certainly get over it and still be friends with Brittney, but he was currently deep in his feelings on the subject.  

Love her? Had they ever made love? Drew couldn’t help but wonder. If he focused particularly hard, he was able to conjure mental images but they seemed ridiculous.  Both of them naked, but not in a bath?  And alone in the dark, without a Grown-Up to watch them?  Him putting his penis into her…hole thing?  

Gross! Parts didn’t go in other parts like that! And those were the dirtiest parts of them all; that’s why they wore diapers.  What would happen if he peed in her or she on him?  And he remembered something about it feeling warm and wet like his diaper just after he peed a lot, but that was probably just his mind filling in blanks and making guesses.  Even if he didn’t scream and make stickies every time he peed and pooped, Drew was honest enough with himself to admit that his diaper did feel good when he was wet.

It felt so made up to Drew, like something a baby with limited information might imagine.

A baby like him.  And his friends.

He took his book and crawled over to where the other chewable literature was kept. The crinkle in his ears was so much white noise by now.  It was just the sound of movement now, or always had been.

“Bababa ga-ga-ga!”  Tyler called from the bouncer.

Drew didn’t look back over his shoulder.  He only knew it was Tyler and not one of the other babies from the sound of his voice.  In truth, there were times when Drew zoned out what Tyler was saying anyways.  Damn that kid liked to babble.  This latest vocabulary reduction was an improvement in Drew’s eyes.

Drew swapped the book out for a ring and chastised himself. That wasn’t fair to Tyler.  He really liked Tyler. Tyler was a friend.  Practically a little brother, even if they were about the same age. He had memories of feeling at peace and ease just being in the same room as the other guy.  You truly knew you were friends with someone if you were comfortable doing nothing all day around them.

Just like with Brittney, Drew was holding onto a big fat ball of resentment.  He had been distracted, but Granny’s comment about Tyler’s dreams had not gone fully unnoticed. He was irrationally mad at Brittney for choosing him to get punished, but the anger bubbling up when he thought about Tyler felt very rational to him.  He hated that he felt so jealous.  

He trusted that Tyler never acted on it.  He trusted that Brittney wouldn’t have either.  He didn’t even know if it was real or just another fantasy Granny was planting in their heads that became real.  Or maybe it was a fantasy that Granny was stripping away. Whatever it was, real or implanted, that feeling just wouldn’t go away and he hated it.

Best to ignore him, not make eye contact.  Not like Tyler was capable of apologizing.

Were Drew being honest with himself, he’d have preferred Granny’s reality to his own. Love entanglements and emotional cheating were easier to deal with when all involved were just kids who needed time to cool off and forget.

He crawled by Christy and nodded solemnly to her.  She guiltily looked away and sucked harder on her pacifier.  It wasn’t inflated, but she dare not spit it out.  Like Tyler she could no longer talk, so she didn’t have much to say.  Like Drew her teeth had been taken from her, and she was clinging to that pacifier like a life raft. Unlike Drew, crawling was no longer a personal choice born from sloth and a broken spirit.  The most baby out of all of them. Some things never changed, did they?

“Ga-ga-ga-ga flabbable?”  A different babbler caught Drew’s attention.  Wendy, the girl crinkled up to him, drooling and sucking happily on her own paci. She mumbled incoherently, but it the pacifier wouldn’t have changed that.  It was all about listening to tone.

“Hmm?” Drew grunted, keeping his mouth shut.  

Wendy pointed to the teething ring on the floor between them, her face friendly but questioning.  “Burmum.”

Drew turned his palm upward and gestured to the circular piece of plastic on the floor.  He wasn’t in love with the thing, though truthfully he did have an itch to nom on it.  But sure, let the baby have it.  

Wendy took the ring and the pacifier dropped from her mouth and straight to the floor, not clipped on.  She jammed the ring on her mouth and seemed to enjoy gumming on it. Drew knew too well that textures were so much more intense when the front of one’s mouth was all flesh. Her hand now free, she picked up the pacifier and offered it to Drew  “Ga?”

“Mmm-mmm…”  Drew shook his head and sealed his lips shut.  Pacifiers bad!  Oh yeah, and it was still glistening with the girl’s spit. That was gross too, he supposed. Not as gross as putting his penis into another person’s hole.  

The girl dropped the paci and offered him the other end of the communal teething ring. “Ga?”

“No thank you,” Drew said.  He blanched. The sound of his own voice was starting to sound foreign to him.

The baby girl shrugged slightly and crawled away, her hips swaying beneath her onesie.  Drew found himself tilting his head and admiring her.  It didn’t matter to him that the reason why her butt looked so big and round was because of how much she’d wet her diaper. He now had dozens of half-dreams half-memories of watching Brittney do the same thing.  It didn’t matter where he got his appetite, as long as he came home for dinner.

He inhaled deeply, and the scent of ammonia masked by baby powder snapped him out of his lustful thoughts.  He looked down at his diaper, his erection perfectly hidden by the bulky padding.  He resisted the urge to whimper and pout. He didn’t touch himself, or seek some cushioned plushy to thrust into.  

 He wouldn’t be like his friends, or those other babies. Drew was stronger than that.

Drew’s brows knitted together. “Hey, Wendy?”

Wendy stopped and looked back over her shoulder. “Hm?”

Drew stopped breathing. Holy shit.  “Can you understand me?”

Mute, but eyes sparkling with intelligence, Wendy nodded.

How had he not noticed before?  He’d been so repulsed by them, by the idea of becoming them that he had assumed they were beyond any kind of help. It could just be a coincidence. “Roll over.”

Wendy crumpled to the floor and twisted onto her back. “Bama ma ma ma ma ma!”

Wow.  He looked around. No one noticed. His friends were all in their own heads, sulking and whining. Granny was tickling Peter on the changing table, blowing raspberries into the redhead’s tummy.  Jon and Michael were stacking blocks into a surprisingly ornate castle.
Giggling, Peter looked down at Wendy and Drew.  He jerked his head rapidly, a look of urgency in his eyes.

“Oh oh oh!” Granny said. “No no, Peter! Let go of Granny’s hair, honey! Granny’s hair is not a toy!”  Giant hands tried to bat away and pry the ginger’s hands loose.

Wendy rolled over and scrambled far away from Drew.  Only when she was far along enough that no one would guess that the pair had been chatting did Peter release his death grip on Granny’s locks.

“Thank you!” Granny cooed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, baby boy.”

Holy cow!  It was like first contact with aliens!  They were still in there! Just like his friends!  Everything he thought knew was wrong. If he hadn’t already, he very well might have pooped himself in surprise!

How to react? Who to tell?  What to do with this information?!

He didn’t know, and looking around at his crawling, babbling, writhing cohorts he wasn’t sure there’d be much use in telling them.  None of them could concentrate, two of them couldn’t talk back, and one of them couldn’t even stand up unaided.

Babies. Nothing but babies.

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

“That’s right,” Granny softly hummed down on him that night. “That’s right. Drink it all up, baby.”  She gently rocked and bobbed him, encouraging him while he engorged himself on her milky teat.  Granny was many things. Besides being a grandmother and a nanny, she was also a wetnurse.


Just outside the nursery, Drew suckled at Granny’s tits like his life depended on it.  In some ways, it did. Drew might have been a baby but he wasn’t stupid.  Every time Brittney, Tyler, and Drew got creamed, it was because they were being naughty.  Drew had no idea how they were specifically naughty- everytime he tried to think of examples he just kept remembering this old cartoon he used to like.  They’d plan something or act on impulse…then Drew would wake up remembering more baby stuff and the mastermind behind each plan would be rolling their eyes into the back of their head every time they pooped.

It didn’t take a Kindergartener to see the cause and effect.

That meant that Drew hadn’t screwed up yet.  So he didn’t fight it. He didn’t whine. He just suckled, filled his tummy up, and passed out before Granny put him down for night night.  If he was as old as he pretended he was, Granny was old enough to be his mother, so breastfeeding from her wasn’t that gross.  If he was as little as his memories were insisting he was, then he shouldn’t care anyways. A Grown-Up was a Grown-Up.

 Besides…the milk was addictive. It was the smoothest whiskey and made him irrationally happy.  Who cared if he pee peed in his pants soon after? Self-medication was the best kind of medication.  That and he wasn’t potty trained.

“You’re Mommy is gonna be so proud when I tell her what a good Little eater you are,” Granny praised. “Yes she is! Yes she is!”

Drew paused but quickly resumed to sew doubt that he’d actually been listening.  Mommy? That was new. The time to start pretending again was running out.  Drew didn’t have much time to wonder how long.  The milk was already starting to fog up his brain.

“I think my good Little boy has earned himself a special treat,” Granny said.  The world bounced with her footfalls and he was ripped from her bosom to be placed upon the changing table.  He’d just been bathed and diapered.  Barely enough time had passed to allow for more than a dribble of pee pee into his thirsty nighttime padding. If he was wet it would only be a little.

With his mind fogging over, Drew lulled his head from side to side, waiting to hear the familiar sounds of the tapes being ripped from his diaper.  In their place came the gentle rustling and crinkling of plastic, like a thousand tiny raindrops on the roof at night, and a pleasant pressure on his front side.

“You like that?” Granny cooed. “Does baby like this special game?”

Drunkenly, Drew nodded, the sweet condescending tones from the giantess making him hard and erect.  “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You can play.”

He started bucking and thrusting his hips, grinding into the palm of her hand.  This was sex. This was what sex was. This was what sex had always been; always would be.

“That’s right,” she praised him.  “Good baby.  Gettin’ ready to make stickies all by himself!  He’s so much bigger than any of the other babies.  So much more mature and well behaved than Brittney or Tyler or Christy! Such a good boy!”

Drew stopped thrusting and glared up at the monstress.  He pinched his tongue with his toothless gums.  This was a trap. This was a trick.  He tilted his head backwards and recognized a baby monitor that hadn’t been there before.

His friends were listening.

“Something the matter? Are you all done?” Granny clucked. “It’s okay. It happens to every Little boy your age.”

“No,” Drew said flatly.  There was such certainty in it that it almost sounded like a roar.  There were advantages to not being a chatterbox.  When you didn’t talk, people listened when you did.

“Do you want Granny to help you?”

Drew didn’t waste his breath.  He shook his head.

“Oh you’re just being stubborn,” she said. “Here. Let Granny help.”  She pinned him down and started rubbing him again and again.  He did not aid her. He did not listen to her encouragement.  He did not think about anything at all.

She wouldn’t break him like this.  He wouldn’t let himself be overcome.  He wouldn’t give her the pleasure.  He just leaned back into the pleasant drowsiness and non-reality of the milk flooding his system.  

“You could use the cream…” he said lazily, his eyes drooping.  He was fully erect for all the good it did him.

She stopped and sneered.  “You’d like the excuse, wouldn’t you, baby?”  He closed his eyes and drifted off before he could process another word, feeling like he’d finally won.

Stupid Grown-Up.
*******************************************************************************************************
Drew finally got his chance early the next morning after breakfast. Just like every day this…week…month…years…forever…? Whatever.  Just like every day, he came to in the middle of being fed a near liquid breakfast in squishy padding.

Just like every day, they were to be changed in the playroom afterwards. Ladies first, then the boys.  Drew was being saved for last and he suspected that was a bit of Granny’s spite showing. Meanwhile the previously thought idiotic babies trickled in with their parents.

The doorbell rang while Tyler was up on the changing table, and Granny left him strapped there while she went to answer the door. That’s when he made his move.  “Guys,” he whispered to Brittney and Christy. “Those other babies; they’re like us.”

“Yeah,” Brittney sighed, defeatedly. “I know. Til Granny fixed them.”  There was the unspoken add on of “Just like she’s fixing us.”  The girl was the least babyish among them, was probably close to potty training, but sulked like she’d already lost.

It just went to show that even the best planner was lost without her support network.

Drew shook his head vehemently. “No. I mean that they understand what we’re saying.”  He grimaced at the sound of his own speech.  Every /s/ and /th/ was mushy and slurred. His tongue still wasn’t used to operating without teeth.  

“So?” Brittney asked. “Not like they can do much. They’re just babies, now.”

Christy looked like she was about to start sobbing just from hearing it.  She was every bit as reduced as the first four: Couldn’t talk, couldn’t walk, couldn’t chew.  But she still understood every word that was being said about her.  Brittney had been more deeply affected by this than previously thought.  

“Sorry…” she said, half-heartedly.  “I didn’t…” she froze, cringed and shuddered. Drew guessed that she’d just wet herself slightly.  There was a horrible thought. What if the cream was slowly desensitizing them?

“Christy,” Drew whispered. “Try to stand up. Use the rails.”  Quickly, but with much difficulty, Drew observed, Christy stood up and grabbed the top rail of the playpen.  Her legs started shaking immediately, turning to Jell-O.  It had been quick because it had to be; Christy lacked the strength and control to do anything other than explosively rise to her feet.

“Okay. Now let go.”

Christy let go and fell with a muted plop.  She sniffled behind her pacifier and let the thing drop out of her mouth so she could pant.  She was already exhausted from the endeavor.  Fuck. That was gonna make it hard.

Hard was not impossible.  

Brittney looked away, aghast at her friend’s toothless mouth.  Is that how she looked at Drew, too?  The memories of their wedding day being pretend gained just a little more weight.

Granny came back with the last of the babies and attended to Tyler.  He started whining and babbling almost immediately, and Drew could tell why.  She was snapping him into a fresh onesie, but not replacing his diaper, leaving him soaking wet between his legs.  The distraction from greeting the last prisoners had caused her to skip a step.

Tyler was picked up and set down outside the playpen.  He pawed at the mesh, looking around nervously at the crawlers the way one might look at a pile of poisonous snakes. “Baka gama bleh!”  Poor bastard hadn’t yet accepted that nobody could understand him.  Drew did a double take and looked over at Christy to see if she reacted to Tyler’s babbling.

She didn’t.  

Scratch out secret baby language being a possibility.

Drew was next to find out that Granny’s misstep wasn’t actually a misstep.  He got a clean set of outer clothes pulled over his head, but last night’s diaper remained securely sagging from his hips.

“Granny’s gonna play a game with her two special boys,” she promised ominously. Both were picked up and carried to the baby gate.  “Let’s go to the guest room, shall we?”

Two of the other babies, Jon and Michael, exchanged looks and giggled knowingly, like they were in on a joke of some sort.  Whatever was about to happen had been done before. Drew didn’t like those odds.  

The boys were transported and laid side by side at the foot of the bed, the massive mattress more than enough to accommodate both of them.  “Both of you boys seem to be suffering under the delusion that you have control.”

Tyler and Drew turned their heads to the side and exchanged quizzical looks.

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to use big boy words, Tyler, thinking your friends are going to understand you.  But you’re just not ready to talk yet. You’re too Little, baby.”

Tyler crossed his arms over his shoulder and glared up at Granny.

“And Drew, just because you’re not complaining doesn’t mean that you’ve accepted the truth.” She sounded so sage and wise; a teacher trying to teach a child a heartfelt lesson.  Drew hated that about it.

“We’re going to play a game,” Granny repeated herself.  “Granny’s gonna help you by rubbing your squishy diapers. Make you feel nice and good.”  Tyler looked ashamed. Drew just felt disgusted.  “No touching yourselves down there. That’s a no-no for this game.  Lay back and let Granny do it. Little ones like you can’t touch yourselves. Grown-Ups can.”

This was not the kind of male bonding Drew had ever envisioned with Tyler.

“Then we’ll see which of you has more control,” Granny explained.  “The last one to make stickies gets to be the bigger baby.”  She let the rest go unsaid. Drew could practically feel Tyler break out into a sweat.  Both had a feeling they knew what that meant.

“How will you know?” Drew asked.

“Oh trust me, sweetheart,” Granny grinned down at them. “Granny knows. Granny always knows.”  

She went to a dresser drawer and opened it, pulling out two pairs of headphones, one red and one blue. They were small enough to fit over either boy’s head but the ear muffs were the type that encased the ears and blocked outside sound. “Let’s slip these on,” Granny said as if they had a choice.  Tyler winced and twitched as if bracing for an electric shock. He got the blue ones.  Drew remained still and placid as the red ones were fitted over him; breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth.  He was already trying to put himself into a kind of zen trance.

He wasn’t going to lose control.  He wasn’t going to lose. Tyler had been helplessly ‘making stickies’ in his diaper for what had to be days. Whatever the potty trained version of ejaculation was, Tyler wasn’t that, either.

Granny wasn’t done yet.  She produced matching cords and plugged them into the headsets.  Drew saw what the cords were attached to as she unrolled them.

Wands.  The kind that vibrated. One in each of Granny’s hands.  “I figured we make things interesting,” came her muffled voice. “Okay boys. Let’s play.”

She flicked the switch on each of them and they buzzed to life.  Drew couldn’t hear anything thereafter.  He saw the wands buzz and vibrate into a blur, but heard nothing. He didn’t hear the crinkle when she touched it to the front of his diaper.  He didn’t hear his own involuntary moan as his penis sprang to life.  Tyler’s either, thank goodness.

What he could hear was the tinkling xylophone music Granny played after they’d fallen to sleep. The stuff that he recognized, even in his dreams.  No words were sung, but Drew knew them instantly.
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

He stared up at the wall, clearing his mind.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

Couldn’t put Humpty together again.

Those damn words kept springing into his head, over and over again.

He exhaled and closed his eyes, shuddering in pleasure at the buzzy wand pressed up against him.  The pressure was nice. And the texture inside his diaper was nicer.  Not dry and rustling like old leaves and cotton.  Now it was like a sponge.  Wet and squishy with just the right amount of give and the right amount of pushback.

The word ‘pocket pussy’ jumped into Drew’s mind but he had no idea where it came from or who put it there.  That was the thing about intrusive thoughts; the way they jumped into one’s head as if put there by an outside force but spoke in one’s own voice.

He didn’t realize the cool soft feeling beneath the soles of his bare feet was him bending his knees and planting his feet on the mattress.  He lifted his hips and grinded his hips into the wand before he knew what he was doing.  He was humping it.

Humpty Dumpty indeed.

Stop!

Blushingly, he let his legs go limp and stop pressing himself up against the pleasure wand.  He saw Granny chuckle. Small mercy that he couldn’t hear her.  That only made her nudge the shaking electric stick against the front of his diaper harder.

This felt.  So good.

It had been so long it felt like. A check on his neighbor showed Tyler wasn’t resisting nearly as hard.  His eyes were closed and he was working himself into a rhythm.  Homebody didn’t even know he was losing.

Drew kept his eyes open and redirected his gaze up at the ceiling. He let his mind wander, counting to a hundred and saying the pledge of allegiance.  Anything to drown out the feeling between his legs.

He wasn’t going to lose this.  Sorry, Tyler.  He just wasn’t.  He’d already lost his teeth. He couldn’t lose anything else.  Couldn’t afford to.

“Hnnnnn…” The sound came in over his headphones.  Grunting, moaning, whining.  It sounded familiar and feminine.  Like Brittney.  “Hnnnnn…Ma….Mommy….”  It sounded sleepy. Drowsy.  It was Brittney talking in her sleep. “Ma-ma-ma…Maaaaahmy.”

The plain white ceiling became a movie screen.  It was Brittney, crawling and toothless, smiling and babbling, wiggle waggling her butt seductively at him.  Just like Wendy had.  

Oh.  Oh that did something.  This was bad!

His lips retreated inward as he felt something build inside him. A button had been pressed.  He scrunched his eyes closed and tried to focus. Think about something. Anything else than pretty girls in diapers filling their pants and loving it.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
I pledge allegiance to the flag
Goo-gooo-gaa-gaaa.

“Nooooooooo…..” Brittney called dreamily out through the headphones.  Someone had recorded her in her sleep.

Imaginary images of Brittney on the changing table, sobbing red-faced while Granny untapped her big stinky diaper and lifted her legs up.  “I’m not a baaaaaaby….”  The voice sounded wistful, but the imagined face was tantruming.

Brittney. His closest friend. His soulmate.  Crumbling helplessly and stripped of all of her independence and power to nothing more than a baby.

Oh god why was that so hot?  Why was this doing it for him?

Wendy, experienced and loving it without a care in the world.

Christy, naked and suckling next to him, suckling on Granny’s breasts and drifting off with her arms wrapped around him.  Fuck you Tyler!  Fair is fair!

Speaking of Tyler, the mattress quaking and Tyler was bucking, red faced and frustrated. Was tyler actually trying to make stickies?  Had he given up that quickly?

The question was shoved out of Drew’s brain with another shudder of involuntary pleasure rocked threw him.

No! He was too close to the edge. Had to get away!  Don’t think about how good this all felts.  Don’t think about how funny the pretty girls in their diapers made him feel; or how the idea of them losing all control stirred up those feelings.  Don’t think about them sucking their thumbs.

Don’t think about them talking in cute babyish voices.  Don’t think about how they all used to be big boys and girls until the Grown-Ups took their big kid underwear away and decided for them that they should just go potty in their-...

“MOMMY!”  The word came as Drew did.  His cheeks flushed.

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men…

The buzzing stopped and the music ceased with it.  “All done!”  She removed the headphones and left Tyler crying as if in pain.  His face drooped, disturbed.

“Babababa”

“Sorry, Ty-Ty” Granny said, wrapping up the cords around the wands and putting the strange headphones away.  In their place she took out a syringe. He didn’t know what was in that syringe but he was certain he wouldn’t like it.  “Drew just couldn’t control himself. He’s so Little, better make sure he doesn’t try to toddle around, just in case.  Don’t want the poor baby falling down, do we?  Best to make him a crawler.”  

The despair on Tyler’s face was instantly replaced by pure schadenfreude. Better Drew become a crawler than him.

Only it wasn’t. Drew was the most physically fit.  If they were going to prove Granny wrong Drew needed to be able to walk.  They could afford Christy as a crawler but not him.  Not Tyler either, though.

“WAIT!” Drew yipped in fear. “That’s not fair!”  Technically Tyler had an advantage.  He’d been seriously desensitized through constant forced orgasms.  That’s not what Drew was thinking about.

“Sorry,” Granny said.  She took a seat on the bed, and pulled him into her lap, face down, butt up.  “Don’t worry. I’ll get you some special cream too, so you won’t be left out.  And some cartoons.  Won’t that be nice?”

Left out?  Yes!  That was it!

“What about Brittney?!” Drew almost shrieked.  We braced himself and readied for the pinch of a needle.    

None came.  “What about her?”

“I got no teeth,” Drew slobbered. “Tyler can’t talk!  Christy can’t walk!  Why is Brittney so big?!”

“Drew,” Granny mused. “Are you telling me to make Brittney a crawler?”

He hesitated, but ultimately answered. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” she teased.

“Yes I’m sure.”

“Granny rose and took Drew with her.  “Okie dokie,” she cooed. “Let’s go do that. Wait here Ty-Ty.”

Ty-Ty glared daggers at Drew.  Drew glared back.  What was his problem?  He wasn’t being made littler.  He’d still be able to walk.  Drew would need him to. Brittney and Christy would too.  It’s what needed to be done, and that’s what Drew did best.

That’s what he told himself all the way through the hall.
It seemed like a justification, he had to admit. A lame excuse. A poor substitute for the truth.

Ersatz.

“Oh Brittney!” Granny sang. “I’ve got a surprise for you!”

Christy saw the needle and started crying. Brittney began to scream.  She jumped onto Christy’s back and tumbled over the side of the playpen.  Gasps all around sounded when she scrambled to her feet and darted into the kitchen.

Granny had to put Drew down on the floor just so that she could safely catch the girl. Great. Now she had some fight in her.

“Hey,” Drew said, “Over here!”  He waved the other prisoners towards him.  Christy bawled and ignored him from the playpen, far too preoccupied with watching the chase going on in the next room over.  Granny was having to move highchairs out of the way and dive under the table to get at the girl..  It was worse than trying to get a cat into its carrier for a vet’s visit.

Maybe he’d miscalculated.  Maybe he should have tried to persuade her to choose Tyler instead.  That wouldn’t have worked, he knew deep down.  There was some special connection between Drew and her that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  Something that Granny wanted to violate and destroy.

“Let me tell you a little secret, Brittney,” Granny’s voiced echoed in from the kitchen.

Drew ignored it.  Straight in front of him were the last four chumps that fell for Granny’s tricks. Chumps. But not idiots. Not babies. Not really.  “Do you guys wanna help us burn this place down?”

Wendy, Jon, Michael, and Peter all looked at one another.  They nodded and babbled their consent.  

“Cool.”

“Drew!” Brittney screamed from the kitchen. “I hate you! I hate yoooooou!”

He’d have to tell her his idea later.





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(Gloria)