“So let me get this straight,” Dante summarized, “These Stepford Wives dope us up on soma and control every part of our lives like Big Brother till we lose it?”
“Uh…yeah…” Lysa said, for the first time sounding uncertain. “I guess so.” Heh. Blondes.
“Not much of a reader?” Dante asked, feeling like he had the upper hand for once in this conversation. Thank you Mrs. Applegate.
“No,” Lysa said, her eyebrow cocked, in curiosity. “I read a lot back when I was alive. I was actually planning on being the first girl in my family to go to college. I caught the Brave New World and 1984 references. I just don’t get what you were talking about with the Stepford Wives. Must be after my time.” Seriously? She hadn’t seen the movie? Either the good one or the remake?
“How old are you?” Dante asked. Lysa got that smug look on her face.
“You know those old fashioned cloth diapers, with the safety pins and everything?” she asked. Dante nodded. Like the kind worn in the old cartoons. “When I first got here,” Lysa said, “they were just called diapers. Disposables hadn’t really become popular yet.”
Seriously?! This chick was THAT old? She must’ve been old enough that if she were still alive, she’d be back in diapers again anyways.
“Yeah,” she went on by way of explanation, “this place sort of changes to keep up with the times and the latest baby fads. I’ve been able to keep up on the slang and lingo by talking with other new fish, like you. So don’t be so surprised that I don’t talk like some old biddie!” Ironically enough, being prideful that she didn’t sound old had the opposite effect. She was starting to reek of “I’m old, but I’m hip…so not really that hip.”
“Thing is though,” Lysa said, changing the subject back, “I’ve worn cloth, and I’ve worn disposables. I say if you’re gonna be stuck in diapers forever, go with the disposables.’
She was right, now that Dante thought about it. Compared to his wet cloth underwear, (though hardly a fair comparison), his wet disposable felt far better. The damp warmth felt good, and the diaper swelled slightly, creating a mushy feeling around his genitals, almost as if a warm sponge was massaging him down there.
Whoah! All of a sudden, Dante’s diaper felt a little bit tighter. Something else, besides the diaper had started swelling. He looked down at his padded crotch. He could feel the erection, but couldn’t see it. (Take that khakis!)
“Um…Lysa,” Dante blushed, “I thought you said if a baby couldn’t do it, we couldn’t do it.” He gestured to his crotch and gyrated slightly to get the point across. “I think I might be at risk of having a very un-childlike accident here.” Lysa just smiled and rolled her eyes.
“Dumb ass,” she said. “You got a stiffie from your first wet diaper, didn’t you? Baby boys get erections all the time. Heck, it’s probably why they’re harder to potty train.” Hmmm, maybe. That made some sense.
“Baby girls can get wet in more ways than one if you know what I mean. ” she winked. “But as far as our plumbing goes, your seed shooter just got demoted to a squirt gun, and I’ll never lactate, have a bun in my oven, or get a visit from my aunt flow again.” Did that mean he could potentially have sex here? Apparently death was no cure for a male teenage libido.
Lysa started giving him that “don’t even think about it look” again. Time to change the subject and distract himself again.
“So,” Dante looked around nervously, “is there any cut off age for entrance into Limbo?” It was the best he could do. He couldn’t think of any better questions.
Lysa shrugged. “There’d have to be. Even with a lucky break like Limbo, there’d have to be a point where God says ‘You’re old enough to go to Hell.’ ”
Memories from earlier crashed into Dante’s brain.
“JUDY, HE WAS HERE AT ONE MINUTE BEFORE MIDNIGHT. HE WAS ONLY ONE MINUTE AWAY FROM BEING DECLARED LOST. IF I FUDGE ANY OF THE PAPER WORK, EVEN BY A MINUTE, HE DOESN’T GO INTO ANOTHER NURSERY!”
Eighteen. Eighteen-years-old was the cut off. If Dante Willis had died one minute later, he would have died a man. He would have been condemned to Hell for all eternity.