Published: March 30th 2022, 12:07:03 am
Author's Note: An idea from Champ's Patreon Daycare chat, this story got weird quick. I apologize in advance. Humpy diapers, desperation, and silly nonsense ahead!
"Ungh! Noo!"
Bobby's hands were full. He struggled with the soft puffy material that his underwear were rapidly becoming as his task of getting dressed for the morning rapidly became more difficult.
"What the hell is going on?"
Bobby swore he hadn't taken any acid that morning, but yet there before his eyes he could see his underwear growing in thickness, thicker and thicker by the moment as he struggled to pull it back down off his waist. Unfortunately, his underwear had turned to training pants, and the absorbent material so thick now that he had to give up on that task and look for some scissors to finish the job. Bobby stifled a moan as the puffy padding carressed his bits, but did his best to ignore the added stimulation.
"I can't get stuck in these. I've got work in an hour!"
Bobby waddled out of the bedroom and headed straight toward the kitchen drawer, where the scissors were stashed. It didn't matter that his clothes had suddenly decided to transform. Magic or miracle, it mattered not, because he had to get to work. He had important things to do. Meetings. Computers. Work stuff!
He slid open the drawer and found the scissors almost immediately. "Ah! There they are!" He grabbed the scissors, and held them up in victory before lowering them to cut off the sides of his puffy and colorful trainers, but as the scissors closed on the material, Bobby noticed something was very wrong. The scissors were no longer metal but a bright plastic with a blade that was flush with the plastic. He was holding a pair of safety scissors. They wouldn't cut through anything much sturdier than construction paper now.
"What the?" Bobby gasped, staring at the scissors in shock, then throwing them on the ground as if they might bite him. Something strange was going on and he was beginning to get frustrated.
"Well, screw it. I'll just get dressed and figure this out later."
Bobby stomped up the stairs, looking as if steam would visibly start pouring out of his ears at any moment.
This morning had been frustrating to say the least. When he had woken up, he hit the alarm clock to snooze, but when he opened his eyes again, it was much later and he was staring at a plastic toy clock. He leapt out of bed, or he would have, but his bed had grown rails. When he put his hand on the rail to climb out, the rails had grown to crib rails. He had barely been able to shimmy out over the bars and make it to his clothing drawer, which also became smaller and more colorful as he slid open his underwear drawer to get dressed.
And now? Having been defeated by the transforming scissors, Bobby was back in his room, staring at his underwear drawer as if he was facing down an outlaw with a six-shooter. What would come next out of the drawer? More magical changing clothes?
Bobby carefully approached the chest of drawers, like he might a large and dangerous animal, his bow-legged waddle slowed as he held his breath and inched ever closer. He gingerly slid open the shirt drawer and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw all his regular shirts waiting there, folded as usual.
He picked up a folded polo shirt, and held it up. Looked pretty normal to him. Then he slid it on over his head, but for some reason, it seemed longer than normal. He kept pulling down the shirt and it kept extending until his head finally popped through. When he looked down he realized he was wearing a onesie-like garment that found itself snapped over his poofy undies and extended partway down his thighs, like tight shorts, or boxer-briefs. Feeling the fabric with his hands, he realized that it was a parody of an adult polo shirt - white with a baby blue peter pan collar, baby blue breast pocket, and smiling blue teddy-bears outlined all over the white body of the garment.
"Ugh! I hate it!" he yelled, trying to pull it off and watching it only grow more babyish with each tug. Now it had extended to encase his hands in mitts, which themselves quickly poofed up to render his hands almost unusable.
"No, no no no no!" he said, in a panic, pulling open drawers to look for some pants that would at least cover up his poofy behind while he searched for help. He quickly shucked on a pair of pants, and was puzzling out how to button them up when they transformed into elastic waist band jeans with only a fake fly. That was one thing that went in his favor, at least.
He eyed the sock drawer and shook his head.
"Aw, screw it. I don't even want to know what that'll turn into. I'll just go barefoot. I need to get help!"
He waddled several steps toward the bedroom door, his gait made awkward by the thick puffy underpants under his jeans, but he stopped when he was hit by the sudden urge to urinate.
"Damnit!" he yelled, making a 180 and hurrying back toward the master bathroom. "Why do I always have to pee so bad in the mornings?"
He flipped up the lid to the potty, which shrunk to become a training potty, and he tugged at his pants, which came down without a problem, but his puffy underpants proved stubborn. His encased hands kept slipping on the material, and they had been enough trouble to try and get off before his shirt had decided to take over the top two-thirds of his body.
"Come on! Come on! Whoa!" Bobby stumbled and landed on his bum on the potty, as his attempt to steady himself on the towel rack was cut short. The towel rack was now a simple hook from which a bright blue and white striped towel hung.
Bobby groaned as the shock caused his bladder to spasm and empty itself into the front of his pants. The training pants were not designed to contained nearly that much liquid, and a dark patch soon grew and began to shine between his legs and the liquid forced itself out, dripping into the potty below.
"Noooo," whined Bobby, standing up in horror. He tried again to remove his clothes, but had no such luck. All that happened as he tugged was his underpants began to take on a shiny plastic-like quality, so he pulled up his jeans and waddle-ran out to the bedroom. The material was now rubbing mercilessly against his pee-pee and his stiffy was poking straight out into his padding as he waddled away.
Why was this happening? What was going on? Bobby thought hard as he reached for his phone. His boyfriend had said he was stressing himself out too much at work. Was he having a mental break?
"I'll call work. I'll tell them I'm sick..." Bobby was bargaining now, hoping to make this all go away with a quick fix. He picked up his cellphone, and unlocked it, only to be met with the colorful screen of a parentally locked cell-phone.
"Pup, if you put this on my phone, I swear to gosh..." muttered Bobby. He tried to dial 911, anything, but even as he dialed the numbers, the phone transformed further into a useless plastic toy. Now all that happened when he tapped it was silly sound effects came out. He threw the phone on the floor and made a beeline for the front door.
"It must be this house. It's cursed, or something!" Bobby said, grabbing his car keys, and rushing out to the garage. He jumped in his car and shoved the keys into the ignition, only he missed. He tried again, and no such luck.
"These damned mitts, they're making it hard to... wait a second..." Bobby looked closer. "There's no ignition!" The keyhole was completely gone. Bobby looked down at the keys. "Hold on... they're plastic!" He was holding a big colorful set of plastic keys, the kind that babies shake and giggle at. He banged the dashboard in frustration and the car shrank each time he pounded it. By the time Bobby realized what was happening, the car had shrunk to become a foot-powered red and yellow plastic toy car. It would be useless to get him to the hospital or anywhere else for that matter.
In a last ditch effort to escape whatever was happening, Bobby smacked the garage door button and waddled out of the garage, wincing as his shoeless feet trod over gravel in the driveway. He waddled as fast as he could down the street. Soon, he was sweating, his underpants uncomfortably wet and his feet black with dirt. He must have looked a mess, because soon, he saw the flashing red and blue lights of a police vehicle approaching him.
"Excuse me, sir!" said an officer, stepping out of the vehicle. "Is everything okay here?"
"No!" yelled Bobby. "Everything I touch turns into baby crap!"
The officer gave him a look and muttered, "Oh boy. Another one," before saying more loudly. "Have you been drinking today, sir?"
Bobby shook his head. "It's ten in the fucking morning! I just got up!"
"I'm gonna need to see some ID," said the officer, unphased by Bobby's outburst. Bobby pulled out his wallet and handed the whole thing to the cop, knowing he had no hope of extracting an ID. The officer opened it up and looked closely.
"Is this a joke, sir?" asked the man.
"What do you mean?" asked Bobby. Bobby's face went from confused to pale as the officer held up his card. It said 'Happy Daze Daycare. Baby Bobby: Permanent resident. Please call the number below if found.'
"N-no! It can't be!" said Bobby. He had just been listening to a story on tape about that very place. In fact, he had fallen asleep to that story, but it was just... "W-wait a minute... Pup gave me that recording! W-what was in that recording?!"
"Calm down, son," said the officer, grabbing Bobby by the shoulder. Bobby tried to push him away, but as soon as he touched the man, the uniform transformed into the colorful attendant's outfit, a big colorful tag saying "HAPPY DAZE STAFF: CHAD" printed in big block letters was now pinned to 'Chad's' shirt.
"Nononononoo!" wailed Bobby, who was now in full tantrum mode.
"Thank goodness we found you, kiddo," said Chad. "Your Daddy will be worried sick!"
Bobby was brought back to daycare, where he was promptly undressed and diapered, with thick mitts over his hands to prevent him from getting into any more mischief, as well as a strip proof garment with thick nylon straps protecting the crotch for good measure. No one would let him out no matter how hard he begged, and he was forced to wet himself several more times as he sat there with all the big babies in daycare. The worst part was, each time he wet, his diaper got thicker and felt better on his pee-pee, making him want to rub his diaper and hump ducky and horsey ride toys in the play area. He had to stophimself several times, and it was completely embarrassing. When his boyfriend arrived, Bobby was relieved.
"Oh, thank goodness!" Bobby cried. "You've got to get me out of here!"
"Thank you for calling me," said Pup, to the attendant. "It looks like he's really bad..."
"What are you talking about pup? You're being the bad boy. You had better tell them to let me out or..."
"We can't understand a word he's said since we found him wandering the street," said Chad, interrupting Bobby's threats. "It's all just baby babble..."
"Baby babble?! What are you talking about?" raged Bobby.
"Aww, somebody's a fussy baby!" said Pup. "It's ok, buddy, Daddy's here."
Bobby, now in a straitjacket, fussed ineffectually into his paci as he was bounced in 'Daddy's' lap, while the man discussed with Zelda the director what was to be done.
"I came home to a missing Bobby. Work called and said he didn't come in. His cellphone was on the floor and his car was just sitting in the garage with the door wide open..."
"Tell me," said the Director, "How long did he listen to that bedtime story you gave him?"
"I don't know, I..." Pup's face went pale. "Oh dear gosh, I think he fell asleep with it in..."
"Oh boy," said the Director. "The report here says he was wearing jeans, and his underwear had cuts all over it Looks like he had peed his pants, and for some reason he wasn't wearing any shoes... He must have acquired baby brain syndrome from listening to the story too long. I'm terribly sorry."
"What do you mean?" thought Bobby. "I'm not a baby brain! It's the world that's turned baby!"
"Oh no," said Daddy, bouncing and shushing the fussy baby. "It's all my fault. I only meant to help him relax. I'm such a bad boyfriend..."
"Don't worry," said Zelda. "We've got the facilities to care for your boyfriend as long as he needs it. And once he's in our system, you can apply for government assistance and you won't have to pay a penny. Trust us, your little man is in good hands."
"Oh, thank goodness," said Daddy, looking relieved.
Bobby shook his head desperately as Zelda slid a stack of Papers Daddy's way and told him he could sign Bobby over for full time care. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he watched his boyfriend sign away his life to the facility.
"I'm sorry, baby Bobby," said Daddy, frowning sympathetically. "I promise I'll come visit!"
Daddy gave Bobby a kiss on the forehead and then handed him off to Chad, who held his straightjacket by the collar so he couldn't waddle after Daddy.
"Don't worry, kiddo. All that hypno won't last forever. But rest assured, we'll still be taking care of you long after that wears off. Welcome to your new home, baby Bobby!"
Bobby was put into a big playpen and left there to play with his big teddies and oversized rubber duckies. He whined as he felt his bladder spasm and fill his diapers with wetness yet again, and he whined even harder as the feeling of the padding stimulated him once more and he found himself humping the big rubber ducky without control.
"That's it. Get it all out of your system, baby Bobby. You'll learn to love it here! All the big babies do!"
Bobby looked over to a big drooling man happily humping away at an oversized teddy bear and felt like he was looking at his future. Yet, what could he do? He was in a straitjacket with no hope for escape from this situation as all his rights had been signed over to the daycare center. All he could do was be a good baby and make humpies in his thick diapers. That's what good babies did. And he was a good baby.