I looked up at my captor. My once-friend. “Pleeeeeeease! Mmmm…” Nope. Couldn’t do it. Not with all these people watching. “Janet? Please Janet!” I made myself shiver despite how my skin simmered with anger and embarrassment. “I’m getting cold.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Janet cooed. Gently, she slid me down to the floor and grabbed the purple shirt and shorts. Not my favorite, but I didn’t want to push my luck. “Let’s get some clothes on.”
What happened next was a kind of reverse strip tease. Janet popped open the purple pair and held them up for me. It might have been cruelty, or just a lack of perspective, but they were held just high enough to make it challenging. Still unused to moving around in bulky absorbent padding, I had to set the lion stuffie down so I could keep my balance.
There was clapping, literal clapping, as she pulled the shorts up over my hips. I spared a moment to look down. As suspected, the leggings stopped just above my knees; it wouldn’t take an eagle eye to see the padding; the top of the diaper’s waistband peeked out over the shorts’ and likely would peek out more if I so much as bent down. This was less an article of clothing and more of a diaper cover with chutes for the legs.
Better than a sailor onesie…
The shirt came on next, and I even humored Janet by reaching into the air and allowing her to guide my arms into the sleeves and pull it over my head. More clapping. At least my legs were no longer bare. At least I didn’t have to hug Lion to cover my nipples. As soon as I was settled back on Janet’s lap, I looked Beouf in the eye. “Thank you…” There was the tiniest mote of sincerity that one time.
“Someone’s trying to be teacher’s pet,” Bankhead joked. I was the only one who didn’t giggle at that. Typical Bankhead; she always was a mood ruiner.
Beouf took her place among the assembled guests. Renner, in the minority amongst all the Amazon ladies, came forward. If I haven’t talked much about Renner up to this point, it’s because he wasn’t particularly important in my life. He was just sorta…there. School too. Came in, clocked in, supposedly taught, clocked out.
Real laid back, for an Amazon. Under different circumstances we might’ve been friends; probably not, but maybe.
In Renner’s arms was a jumbo box of Monkeez with a ribbon taped onto the top. “I didn’t know what to get,” he said, sounding bashful and embarrassed, “so I decided to get something practical.” He turned it around in his arms before setting it down, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the whole package. A baby model grinning on one side; a Little on the other.
“Oh Steven,” Mrs. Springfield groaned. “Really?”
Mumblings of “such a guy…” could be heard in the living room and combined with knowing but disapproving headshakes. He was lazy and got a pass because he was a dude. An Amazon dude.
Typical.
His bit of farce wasn’t done yet.
“Thank you, Steven,” Janet said. “These will definitely come in handy.” I looked down at the Little on the box and squirmed a bit. Janet bobbed me up on her knee, but didn’t do anything else. At least she wasn’t prompting me to thank him for the diapers…
“Oh, and almost forgot,” Renner said, digging into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a not-quite stuffie; same material, but far too small. It had a fox’s face attached to a soft cloth strap. It wasn’t wrapped; kinda frayed around the edges, too. “My nephew likes these,” he said, scratching the back of his shaved head awkwardly as Janet took it from him.
Janet wrapped the used baby toy around my wrist, securing it with velcro. “It’s a wrist rattle,” Janet said. “Go on. Give it a try.”
I rolled my eyes, held the baby toy to my ear, jiggled my right arm…
And almost fell over the other side of her lap.
Amazon giggles and cooing noises started up again as Janet caught me and sat me upright. My face flushed; my breathing slowed then quickened; my head buzzed and I felt a faint and fleeting sense of euphoria as my equilibrium shifted off key. It was like I’d taken a triple shot of tequila and it had just hit me.
It was a rush. A guy could get to like this. “Did you guys hear that?!” I asked. There were more quiet chuckles, and shakes of “no”. I turned my wrist over and saw the King Fisher Logo. I’d seen something about this a few months ago online…
The Amazons couldn’t hear it, I felt slightly drunk, and Mr Renner’s “nephew” clearly wasn’t an actual child. “Thank you,” I rasped, “But I prefer lions…” I peeled off the velcro and tried to offer what had to be a sloppily re-gifted brainwashing device back. If only diapers had velcro tabs so that Littles would have an easier time taking them off…
“Clark,” Janet scoffed. “Be nice.”
I was already starting to sober up, as it were; adrenaline overcoming the fading buzz. “It’s very nice,” I lied, “I just like lions…”
Mr. Renner took it back graciously enough and repocketed it. “No problem, Lil’ guy,” he said. “It was kind of a last minute thing anyways.” Last minute was underselling it. It’s probably something he had laying around his house for when he had to ‘babysit’ his poor ‘nephew’. I reached over and grabbed Lion, clutching him like a murderer clutches an alibi. The I.E.P. team was totally tickled.
Mr. Renner backed to his place along the fringes of the gathering as more giants came forward to give their “gifts”. He’d done his part, and went back to glancing at his phone. I don’t know why, but this annoyed me. At least the other Amazons were committed to this tyrannical farce…
From there the dance went on in earnest. A guest would come up and give a present. Janet would tell everyone (and me) what it was even though most of it was pretty obvious. She would thank them and I would mumble noncommittally. It went on and on for at least an hour like that.
Chandra Skinner gave Janet a baby monitor. “Top of the line,” she said. A King Fisher Series 669. “This is both a great safety tool, and a great educational tool,” she promised. I huffed. What would Skinner know about education? Furthermore, how did she manage to teach kids to pronounce words without them developing her own hick accent?
Bankhead gave Janet a board book entitled “I DON’T HAVE TO GROW UP!” More propaganda. Like the Monkeez commercial, the Little Voices pamphlets, and the Muffet Littles, I was positive it was more for her benefit than mine. The diapered Little on the cover looked up from the illustrated bathroom floor in a pool of toilet paper.
“I recommend that all new parents read this to their Little ones,” she told Janet. “It does them both a lot of good.” She looked down at me and booped me on the nose. “And the best part is it’s chewable.” I would not be chewing that book, but I would be furiously rubbing her nasty ass perfume off the tip of my schnoz. Janet bounced me more on her knee as Bankhead finished her sales pitch.
“These mittens will help encourage him to bottle, spoon feed or breastfeed,” Sosa said, distant but genial. “Maturosis sometimes manifests in tantrums over lost and deteriorating capabilities. Makes it easier on them if they don’t have a choice.” The whole room was bobbleheads.
Silently, I swore to whatever god there was that I’d find a way to make Sosa eat those words.
Speaking of God, Janet’s room had become a perverse kind of church, I realized. One that preached the Gospel of Maturosis and Developmental Plateau and read from the book of Little Voices.
Winters, the physical therapist’s contribution was fairly huge. Like Renner, hers wasn’t properly wrapped. Unlike him, there was a reason beyond laziness. “It’s a playground in a box!” she said. When she opened the lid, the entire box unfolded itself and expanded. Translucent tubes shot out and laid themselves around the rug. Ramps and slides reconfigured themselves and a hefty crash pad inflated itself. “And it’s got five different configurations!” With a turn of a knob the tubes, passageways, and obstacles transformed again and again and again until the push of a button packed itself up again into the relatively small crate.
Applause all around. The rest of the I.E.P. team had been glad to let the physical therapist go last. Amazon ingenuity at work. Critically I eyeballed the structure. Lots of tubes to shimmy around it, but not break line of sight. A slide with no steps. A bridge meant to weeble and wobble unsteadily; a rolling tunnel. Great. A funhouse that not-so-subtly encouraged me to crawl instead of walk. And it could take up the whole living room. “Just make sure to use it only under adult supervision.”
You ever get so upset that all you can do is huff and sigh at how messed up the world is? You feel so beaten down and helpless that the most you can do is just bear it? Not even grin? Just bear it. If you’re an Amazon, probably not… I reached that point about this time.
I honestly can’t remember most of what else was shoved in my face that day. Plenty of staff members and too many strangers to count. Blocks here. Plushies there, (which I graciously pretended to accept as long as they didn’t jangle). Fake musical instruments that I never intended to try out. Janet got a playpen along with a replacement car seat and diaper bag. No more pink.
Yay I guess?
Truthfully it only made me feel worse. Some stupid, desperate part of me thought that if Janet still had her Little girl wardrobe, she might have let me go should a more feminine candidate present themselves. I’m sorry for writing that, but I was genuinely at a point where it was better anyone but me.
As far as clothes went, Beouf’s were by far the most dignified and mature. The rest of my growing closet would be filled with things that snapped up at the crotch and the inseams, and decorated with cartoon animals. Pairs of otherwise normal pants were ruined with extra sewing just so a giant would have easier access to my plastic backed undies. All of my pajamas now had feet on them. Everything meant to cover me below the waist (and a few things that weren’t) had Amazon strength snaps that I couldn’t hope to undo by myself.
The only comfort I got there was that being already dressed, Janet didn’t want a fussy Little doll in front of her friends, so I was saved the monotony and embarrassment of being stripped and reclothed just so that every guest could see me in the special skin of humiliation they’d picked just for me.
“Hmmm?” Janet turned over the unopened pack of pacifiers and inspected the back. “Are these the gag kind?” Janet asked whatever friend or relative that had bought them.
“The bulbs inflate if you twist them, yes.”
Janet bounced me more on her lap. Her bobbing knee was starting to become a tell for her more than a signal for me to be quiet. The more she jiggled me like a fussy toddler, I’d learned, the less comfortable she was about the gift. If I was right, that at least meant that I wouldn’t be tasting any books any time soon. It also meant that I’d be wearing mittens at meal time sooner or later. “That’s very nice…”
“I’ve got the receipt in the bag in the case you want to trade them in for the regular kind.”
The lap stopped moving. “Oh! That’d be great! Thank you for thinking of that!”
Oh, so she could refuse gifts! The mighty double standard was in full swing! I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut, though.
Janet’s bestie was the last to present her so-called. Standing in front of Janet, like a ringmaster introducing the acrobats. “Janet,” she said, “You’ve got all these really neat gadgets and gizmos for your Little to play in. I’m sure he’ll be very happy.” She winked at me and then dashed out into the kitchen.
Guests chuckled at her enthusiasm and looked out the doorway, grinning as the low whir of an electronic engine signaled her return. If she were my size she’d have been snatched and had a Monkeez taped around her butt in an instant. “But what kind of Auntie would I be if I didn’t get you a little something something so that you two could play TOGETHER?!”
The mammoth stroller followed behind her on four gigantic wheels as she skipped around the living room. It stopped, started, and changed direction with her. “It can follow you if you walk in front of it.” She clicked a remote in her palm and the stroller heeled like a dog. “Or beside you if you want to hold your Little’s hand.” Wows and remarks of appreciation overlapped onto each other. “And oh yeah, I guess you can push it too.” That got some belly laughs.
Another wink was cast in my direction. “Oh, and I’m not supposed to show you this, Clark, but just in case you want to pedal around the backyard…?” Another click of the remote, and the bottom dropped out and detached itself. Ejecting from the front of the fancy stroller was a low riding vehicle with handlebars. Two pedals popped out the side “It’s also a scooter.”
Janet’s knee started earthquaking. “Don’t worry,” Jessica promised. “The remote still works on the scooter, too. It’s super safe.” The room stopped bouncing and the crinkles left my ears. The queen had been appeased.
I won’t lie. The stroller was my favorite gift I’d received. Not because I liked it, but because I saw possibilities.
A brown delivery box lay there on the floor. It had been ejected when my new stroller temporarily turned into a four wheeler. “Oh yeah,” Jessica said. “This was on your doorstep when I came back in.”
“Oh thank goodness!” Janet slid me off her lap and stood up. “It came!”
I had to roll to my knees so that I could stand up and watch Janet snatch away the cardboard rectangle. “What came?” I asked.