Jim looks at Stacy.
“You should do it.”
“What? Why? You already put a diaper on him!” Stacy protests. The smell of his diaper is starting to get to Mike. He shifts uncomfortably.
“Well, you have maternal tendencies.”
“Maternal- just because I’m a woman, I’ll be automatically good at changing dirty diapers?”
“I’m not-”
“Will one of you just change me?” Mike shouts. Jim gets a coin out of his back pocket.
“We’ll flip for it, then. I’ll take heads,” Jim says. Stacy nods. Mike feels the urge to pee and, deciding that since he’s about to be changed anyways he might as well, lets loose. Jim flips the coin. “Dammit.”
“I’ll get lunch ready,” Stacy says cheerfully, leaving the bathroom. Jim walks over and picks Mike up.
“Wait, I’m peeing,” Mike says. Jim raises an eyebrow at him. “Hey, I had to go, and my diaper was dirty already.” After a moment, he sighs. “Okay. Done.”
“All right,” Jim mutters. He lays Mike down on his back on the floor and removes the dirty diaper. “Wow, you really filled this up.”
“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get this over with.” Mike feels himself turning bright red as Jim wipes him down and tapes on a fresh diaper. “All done?”
“Yep.” Jim tosses the dirty diaper in the trash. “And we need to talk about our deal.”
“No, I- it’s over,” Mike mumbles. Jim looks at him in surprise. “I didn’t know I had to poop until Stacy asked, and once I realized, it wasn’t in enough time to use the toilet. If I can’t help messing myself, I’ll definitely be wetting myself a lot.”
“But still, you’re fine with diapers?”
“Not really. But pull-ups won’t be good enough for me right now.” Mike sighs. “Diapers it is.”
“Sorry, bud.” Jim ruffles Mike’s hair. “Go check in with Stacy about lunch.” Mike nods and toddles out of the bathroom, clad only in his diaper. He arrives in the kitchen. To his disappointment, Stacy has made a lunch suitable for a toddler: chicken nuggets. Jim comes in after a few minutes.
“Mike, we need to discuss what we’ll be doing with you tomorrow,” Stacy says. “Jim and I both work, and we can’t leave you here alone. Not if you’re messing your diaper.”
“Are you going to take me to daycare?” Mike asks reluctantly.
“Either that or get you a babysitter,” Jim says. Mike looks down at his chicken nuggets. He wants to protest that he doesn’t need to be supervised, but as he’s about to speak, he feels warmth spreading in his diaper. He’s already wet himself again. With a sigh, Mike nods.
“Fine.”
“Which one do you want?” Jim asks.