"What in the name of the goddess do you think you're doing?"
Dylan and I simultaneously looked up to see a very displeased Seryth staring down at us, floating effortlessly in air that had been empty an instant prior. My adult shame came roaring back on a hot wave of embarrassment; I was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that I'd spent the past few hours playing while wearing nothing but a drenched diaper. The fun that Dylan and I had been swept up in had been so all-encompassing that I'd given no thought to wetting myself over and over again, to say nothing of the fact that I'd actually enjoyed the sensation of soaking my Huggies to capacity. I went beet-red and dug a stubby toe into the carpet, hanging my head and avoiding Seryth's eyes.
"We...we were jus' pwayin'..." I lamely offered.
"Jus' pwayin'?" The fairy echoed in a mockery of my babyish lisp. "That's what you call handing over complete control of this reality to a total stranger? Jus' pwayin'?"
"He'th nah a stwangah," I mumbled. "He'th my fwiend."
Seryth snorted and turned to Dylan, who was staring the fairy dead in the eye. His defiance bolstered my spirit somewhat, though I couldn't help but feel that the strength of my playmate's stance was weakened somewhat by the fact that he, too, was nothing more than a pudgy, adorable toddler whose incontinence was broadcast loud and clear by the pronounced sag of his diaper.
"Is that what you told him?" Seryth asked of Dylan. "That you're his 'friend'? That's low, Dylan - but not as low as pretending that you actually enjoy acting like a baby. I've seen you do some pretty sneaky things to gain the trust of a sandbox's owner, but this takes the cake."
"Don' wisten ta him," Dylan murmured, his eyes never leaving Seryth's. "He'th jus' jell-wis dat I took contwol of dis pwace fwom him. He doethn't wan' anybody but him ta haf powah."
"Not anybody," Seryth countered. "Just you, Dylan. Why don't you tell your little friend what you really come into these sandboxes for? You don't just want a place where you can play and wet yourself to your heart's content - you want total control. You make the fantasies of sandbox owners so real, so all-encompassing that they lose themselves to the sheer pleasure of the whole thing, that they lose any will or desire to contest your power."
"Wook, Mah-co..." Dylan's expression softened as he finally turned to me, his bright emerald eyes pleading for understanding. "Jus' fink about how you got heah. Dat fah-wee would'n have made dis pwace for you if you had'n twapped him. He'th wahsentful. He'th bittah. An' he'll take the firtht chanth he geth to tay you outta dis thandbox. He'll punith you for twappin' him - not heah, but in we-ah-wah-tee. I jus' wanna haf fun wif you, Mah-co. I wuv bein' a baby wif you. I wuv...I wuv bein' yoah bwuvah."
My little heart swelled at Dylan's declaration of brotherhood, an already-difficult decision suddenly made even more impossible. Both he and Seryth were waiting for my choice - waiting to hear to whom I would grant control of this place to. I felt, in that moment, about as capable as of making that decision as an actual three-year-old would. I was so overwhelmed by the implications of the moment and by the emotions swirling within me that I had to fight back the urge to plop onto my chubby, wet little tushie and bawl like the baby I resembled. Still, I managed to hold it together. I managed to be the adult that the situation required. I managed to make the toughest decision of my life.