"Castle!" I cheered. And thus we began our perilous assent of Castle Steps n' Slide. My memories of the castle were so distant that I wasn't quite sure if they were from genuine memories or just dreams I'd had of owning one as a kid.
It's amazing how a simple arrangement of steps, a platform, and a slide can capture a toddler's imagination for such a long time. Within our vivid imaginations, Castle Steps n' Slide started out as a medieval fortress besieged by skeletons, then it became a space station and the slide was now a giant escape chute that went all the way back down to Earth. Then Castle Steps n' Slide was a floating island in the middle of the "Specific Ocean," and by going down the slide we somehow beat back the pirates assailing us.
Amazingly, we could do all this without Dylan even using an ounce of his powers.
Dylan and I had occasional squabbles as to who got to go down the slide first, and who was exactly was the Bad Guy or the Good Guy, but none of it got too far or lasted very long. I'd say we got along excellently, especially given how we were surrendering to toddlerhood. Better still, there wasn't anything indicating he wanted to abuse his powers. As far as I could tell, he honestly was just a guy who wanted to be a kid again. Perhaps I'd find out more about where exactly he came from, but for now my toddler mind was happy to just have a playmate.
"Hold on--firsty," chirped Dylan, bounding up to a small plastic table with two more sippy cups filled with juice. I realized I was already thirsty again. How much time had we spent doing this, anyway? An hour? Two hours? Three? Outside the window, it looked to be either late afternoon or early evening. The summer sun brought out brilliant shades of green and gold.
I downed the sippy cup, relishing how perfectly sweet the taste was. But it reminded me of a growing problem--I was starting to need to go to the bathroom. Unconsciously, I started doing the potty dance again.
Dylan noticed this and giggled. Still sipping from his cup, he peed into his diaper with an audible hiss. A faint yellow stain appeared on the lower front panel, and the padding sagged a little.
"You too," he said simply. I was simultaneously thrilled and mortified by this concept. It felt like actually using my diaper would be a point of no return for my descent into toddlerhood. I knew I couldn't control my bladder anymore, but paradoxically it seemed impossible to pee into something specifically intended for that purpose. It was a formal admission of incontinence.
But my bladder seemed like it was about to burst, and my potty dance was getting so intense it must've looked like some sort of summoning ritual. Dylan laughed. I clutched at my well-padded groin, hearing the loud crinkle of plastic and feeling the soft material give before my fingers. I fidgeted, settled down, and finally just lost control.
The padding instantly grew warm and wet next to my powdered groin. There was no leakage, but the diaper grew visibly yellow and sagged just like Dylan's. I'd peed my diaper, just like a little baby.
"Iss fun!" cried Dylan. "What you wanna do next?"
"What do -you- wanna do?"
"Duplos!"
That sounded good enough to me. Duplos; the way the Lego corporation indoctrinates youngsters. Dylan and I set to work on creating all sorts of improbable creations, like dog-copters or giant blocky multicolored spaceships. Soon enough, I once again was peeing my diaper.
"Should we get tange?" I asked, poking at the padding.
"Dun have to," he shrugged. "Keep playing?"
We grinned diabolically at each other. To heck with diaper changes--there was too much stuff to build! And thus our diapers got successively wetter and soggier, our diaper areas protected by the thick layers of cream and talcum powder. It got easier to pee into the diaper each time.
The crotches of our diapers were starting to sag to almost knee-level, but we paid them no heed. The squishy padding was actually kinda comfortable, if anything. It was fun to squeeze it--a little like a wearable stress ball.