The Potty Draining Chart - Day 7 (Patreon)

Bonk.

Nicole felt her head bounce off against something solid and blinked awake, confused. She sometimes rolled into the wall while she slept, but this didn’t feel like bumping her head against the wall, more like a table leg.

Blinking awake, she took in her surroundings, and was so alarmed that she sat upright.

She wasn’t in her room anymore.

The walls were a different color, so that a mural of baby animals was on one side, and glow-in-the-dark star stickers were adhered to the ceiling. Where her dresser had once been was now a scaled-up changing table, big enough to support her through diaper changes, and in place of her bookshelf was a shelf full of toys and plushies.

But most noticeable of all, her bed was gone; she’d woken up in a solid, framed crib.

The four sides were made of wooden bars, secure enough to stop her from getting through them, and a large mobile spun overhead, gently turning so that plastic toys moved in a hypnotic pattern.

Clambering up, Nicole grabbed the sides of the crib with both hands, clambering awkwardly over it. The bars were high enough that she couldn’t easily push off with her feet, and without vertical rungs, she had to flail her legs and struggle to get over. As her weight shifted, she lost her grip, falling onto the floor outside the crib with a heavy thump.

“Nicole?”

Vanessa’s voice carried from across the hall, and in a second, she opened the door and came inside, to find Nicole on the floor. Feeling a bit dizzy from the fall, Nicole sat up.

“Uh… hi, V,” she said, blushing. “My room…”

She was about to say, ‘My room disappeared’, but as she looked around, she realized it wasn’t quite true. The dimensions were the same, the little corner next to her closet that stuck out to make room for an air vent was the same, the window frame, the placement of the door to the hall–it all matched. Even the camcorder Vanessa had set up was gone, replaced with a brightly colored plastic baby monitor; the paired receiver screen sitting right next to the camera.

Her room hadn’t gone away, it’d been changed to match her new clothes.

“Yeah, you’re telling me,” Vanessa said, looking around. “Your chart shows a doodle of a crib on it–I’m guessing this is what it was referring to. Are you okay, though?”

“Yeah, I just…feww,” Nicole admitted. “I couldn’t get out otherwise.”

Looking between the crib and Nicole, Vanessa frowned, then reached over and fiddled with a latch. Undramatically, the side of the crib swung out like a gate, making it easy to get inside.

“Oh,” Nicole said, feeling stupid. “Um…”

Sniffing the air, Vanessa changed subjects. “Smells like you need a change–I’ll go make breakfast while you get cleaned up, okay?”

Nicole blushed–she had noticed her accident, but barely thought anything of it, already used to the sensation of a dirty diaper. “Um…thanks. I’ll go…yeah…do that.” She began her waddle to the door, in a rush to get clean and put these new discoveries behind her.

She stripped out of her soiled diaper, eyeing the toilet enviously–she just wanted to be able to sit down and use it like a grown u–(Like I’d been able to before.)

(I’m still a grown up,) she reminded herself, disturbed at the new direction her thoughts had taken. (Did…did that come from me?)

The new fear worried around and around in her thoughts. She was losing control of herself everywhere–her potty training, her voice, her environment–but the one thing that’d been protected so far was her mind. If she couldn’t even trust her thoughts, that cast the curse of her potty training chart in a whole new light.

She tried to think it through, but once the fear had set in, she couldn’t logic it away. After all–if her thoughts couldn’t be trusted, how could she trust her own logic?

Drying off and getting into a fresh diaper, Nicole settled on just a robe, too anxious to get dressed properly before talking to Vanessa.

Her roommate picked up on the anxiety right away, looking up from the stovetop. “What’s wrong? Did something else change?”

“I–I don’t know,” Nicole admitted. “Erm–when I was in the bathwoom, I thought about trying to use the toilet like a ‘gwown up’. As in, somefing distinct from what I am. I’m worried it’s getting into my head.”

“Oh,” Vanessa said, nodding seriously. “I see the concern. Have you noticed anything else like that?”

Nicole shook her head. “No, but–would I? Could I even tell?”

Pursing her lips, Vanessa didn’t respond right away.

“If it’s gettin’ into my head,” Nicole continued, “If my bwain is–if I’m actually turning into a baby, or if it’s making me go crazy, I mean…I don’t want to wake up every morning wondering how much of me is still weft.”

“Okay, I…” Vanessa chewed on the thought for a moment. While she thought, she poured a mug of coffee for Nicole; Black, no sugar, in her favorite pea-pod mug. “I have an idea. Can you try something with me?”

Nicole wasn’t so confident, but nodded. “Sure.”

“Just answer a few questions. What’re you wearing?” Vanessa asked.

“A…um, a diaper,” Nicole said, blushing.

Vanessa nodded, thoughtful. “And what’s the thing in the bathroom that you sit on when you have to go?”

“A toiwet,” Nicole confirmed.

“What do you call a glass or plastic object with a nipple on top that someone can drink milk out of?”

“A baby bottwe. Bottwe. Bottle.” Nicole said. “Some of this’s hawd to say.”

“And you’ve answered them all like I’d expect a grown-up to,” Vanessa explained. “No toddler language, just a bit of a lisp. You’re still in there.”

Frowning, Nicole asked, “Then…why did I think of ‘grown ups’?”

“Because that’s the language we’d use anyways,” Vanessa shrugged. “I’d say, “Big kids are potty trained,” but I wouldn’t normally say, “Adults are potty trained,” because it doesn’t come up in context. It’s like how you might call a child’s parent, ‘Dad’, even though that parent isn’t your dad.”

Nicole didn’t know if she totally trusted that explanation, but she did trust Vanessa, and if Vanessa thought she was fine, Nicole wouldn’t question things further. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Vanessa said. “Now–pancakes or waffles?”