On his sixth or seventh swing, Dante lost his balance and ended up sprawled on his stomach. Even his coordination was going because of that stupid milk. Too angry to bother to get up, Dante started pounding his palms on the floor and kicking his legs in a good old fashioned temper tantrum. Real mature. Not that it mattered, anymore.
He quickly found himself being picked up and held by the Judy. She used one arm to support his bum, and stroked his back with the other arm in an attempt to soothe the bawling baby teen. She bobbed up and down a little to try and cheer him up. He buried his face in her shoulder, sobbing, but was too tired right then to make any audible sound. He rubbed his nose on her scrubs. Didn’t matter anyways, it’s not like his mucus would stick to her.
“Awww, Dante, wussamatta, baby?” the angel cooed. Get real. She was his problem. Her and everything about this day was his problem. Her free hand left his back and he felt two fingers sticking into the leggings of his diaper. “Uh-ooooooh!” the Judy proclaimed with sing-song concern. “I know what’s wroooong. SOMEONE had an accident. Off-we-go-for-a-change.” She exited the playpen with Dante in tow.
There were so many things wrong with those last few remarks. “Uh oh?” As if she hadn’t expected to find him wet? She wouldn’t have checked him if she hadn’t expected it. “Someone” had an accident? As if Dante didn’t know that the Judy had been referring to him? Like she was going to stick her fingers in his diaper and then tell him that some other baby was wet? No, some other…aww skip it. Oh, and finally, why was it called an “accident”? THIS was no accident. They had intended for THIS to happen. From the very moment that they had strapped this wretched thing on his waist, THIS was the end-goal that they had had in mind. There was nothing “accidental” about the current situation at all.
Dante shut his eyes as he was being carried over to the changing table. He was so pissed he didn’t want to even look at himself. He felt himself being lowered onto the soft padding of the changing table. He immediately became aware that he couldn’t really move. He kept his eyes shut all the same.
“Here you go, sweetie” the Judy said. Dante felt a rubber teat brush his lips. He opened his mouth and accepted it. He needed some time without ambition or inhibition for a while. Screw Lysa and her pretentious know-it-all attitude and rules about enduring this crazy existence. Dante needed some kind of relief.
Dante sucked as hard as he could, waiting to accept the creamy milk. Except none came. Great, they had given him a pacifier! Now he had to go through this whole thing sober. These angels or whatever they were had to realize that their wards weren’t really babies. They were too sadistic to be that dumb. Oh well, at least he had something to bite on.
Dante refused to open his eyes even as he felt nimble hands unbuttoning his snaps. He would not watch this. He would not look for Lysa, who was no doubt silently judging him for his breakdown. Even though he could squeeze his eyes shut, Dante’s other senses were still at the mercy of his caregiver.
He felt the buttons being unsnapped, and his onesie becoming more like a shirt as it was shimmied up his hips past his stomach to his chest. He heard the scritch-scratch of Velcro as the tapes of his diaper were ripped loose. He felt the breeze as his moistened privates were exposed to open air, and smelled stale urine mixed in with the perfume of the soiled garment. He winced slightly as baby wipes were dragged across his cock and balls. He felt his legs lifted into the air and his rump got a similar treatment. He felt warmth and comfort as he was lowered down onto fresh padding.
He let out a brief sigh. Almost over. He grit his teeth- biting onto the pacifier- trying his best not to enjoy the feeling (and doing a pretty good job at it) as the new diaper became taped on and snug. Still filled to the brim with righteous fury, Dante was determined to not let the Judy have the satisfaction of thinking she had solved his problem.