“Next question.” Lysa said.
“I already asked it,” Dante pressed, “I said who showed you the ropes when you first got here?”
“And I said…NEXT. QUESTION.” Yikes! Backpedal backpedal backpedal!
“Ok,” Dante said, wisely changing the subject, “what’s the deal with the milk?” Safe choice. Definitely a safe choice. Besides, something was up with that milk.
“That,” Lysa sighed, “is Angel milk, if you know what I mean.” She rolled over onto her back, her diaper on plain display and her legs idly kicking the air. Oddly familiar. “They call it the milk of human kindness.” her voice mellowed out as if she were daydreaming. “It takes away all ambition, and all inhibitions. Without those things, you’re innocent, free from any aggressive or shameful thoughts. It basically makes you a baby for a little while. The Judy’s love to force it down our throats. The buzz makes the idea of going full baby seem more appealing to a lot of people.”
“You can’t get away from it, entirely.”, she went on. “They serve it at least twice a day. Don’t expect to do any heavy thinking right after breakfast or dinner, or if you can’t sleep through the night. Still, if you can avoid coming off as too cranky, or fussy most of the time, they won’t give you any extra.
“Don’t worry,” she said, sitting back up and crossing her legs, “it’s delicious AND habit forming, but it’s not permanent- I think the stuff they give to us in the bottles is cut with something.” Her tone went back to normal. “But even after it wears off, it has lingering side effects.”
“What kind of side effects?” Dante asked.
“If a baby can’t do it, we probably can’t do it either. For starters,” Lysa pointed to the ground, “Have either you or I stood up on our own two feet since this conversation started?” Nope, that they hadn’t. Dante had barely noticed, it felt so natural to be crawling around. The last time he had stood up was when he was running away…before the milk.
“What else?” he asked.
“Look down at your crotch. Any idea how to get that onesie off?” Dante stared down at the crotch-snaps. Did he know how to get undressed? Nope. Getting the blue onesie off seemed about as out there as quantum physics right then.
“What else?” Dante repeated.
“We’re not potty-trained anymore.” she responded flatly.
“Seriously?” he questioned in disbelief. To be trapped in diapers was one thing. To not possess the alternative skill-set, thus needing diapers sounded far fetched, even here. Dante suddenly felt uncomfortable.
“Can you even tell me how to use a potty?” Lysa questioned. “Bet you can’t.” It was true. Dante could remember what a potty looked like- a funny chair with a hole in it. It made a funny sound when you pulled the handle down. He could even remember having used a potty before. But for the life (after-life?) of him, he couldn’t list the steps in how to use one, anymore. His discomfort grew.
“Can you even think of another word for potty?” Lysa pressed. God help him, he couldn’t. He felt a horrible need growing inside of him. Dante was about to explode, a dam about to burst.
“I’m about to pee!” he shrieked. He didn’t even finish the sentence before his bladder let loose. Lysa quickly turned around. Relief, sweet relief flooded his every synapse as he flooded the diaper. His diaper. He shuddered at both of those thoughts.
“Okay, done.” Dante hung his head in shame, quickly before correcting himself. Mustn’t let himself fall too deeply into pity. “So,” he admitted to himself, as Lysa shimmied back around, “I just pissed my pants.”
“No you didn’t.” Lysa told him. “You wet your diaper. It didn’t even leak through to your other clothes. Besides, you’re not wearing pants ” she smiled. Was she actually making a joke?
“Seriously,” she chuckled dryly, “none of the babies get dressed in pants here. Closest things they have are shortalls. It’s like they really want to hammer the baby thing home; I guess pants are too grown-up or something” She shrugged and gestured to herself. “Same thing goes for dresses and skirts that actually cover your underwear. I think it’s another form of control.”