It’ll be easier to get home once he’s an adult. And he doesn’t want to wear this diaper any longer. The employee said the clothing store would be closing soon, but he might still have time to grab something. Oliver hurries back to the clothes store, glad that the diaper isn’t thick enough to make him toddle. A customer enters and Oliver slips inside before the door can close again. He grabs the first item of adult clothing he can find, a shirt, puts on the ring, and prepares to slip on the shirt. Before he can do so, he lets out a loud fart. Oliver’s eyes widen at a sudden pressure in his bowels. This brief moment of distraction is enough of a delay that he gets caught.
“Hey, don’t just grab things, kid,” scolds the employee that kicked him out earlier, taking the shirt from him. Oliver crosses his legs, trying to avoid messing himself. “What?”
“Potty,” Oliver whines after a moment. The employee looks him over.
“You’re wearing a diaper. Use it.” As if acting on the employee’s command, Oliver’s bowels empty into his diaper, as does his bladder. “Go find your mom or dad or whatever to get them to change you, okay?” The employee ushers Oliver out of the store. The load in Oliver’s diaper is thoroughly unpleasant. He goes back to the site of the diaper bags, waddling due to his filled diaper. He grabs a fresh diaper and some new shorts, as his diaper wasn’t meant to withstand an accident like the one he just had, and it leaked. The only diaper available is a cloth one, but it’s better than nothing.
Oliver ducks behind his bush from earlier and tapes on the diaper. He suddenly shrinks. He forgot to take off the ring! Now he’s at least a year younger. Oliver removes the ring, pulls on the shorts, and then tucks the ring into the pocket of the shorts. He emerges from the bush again.
“There you are, Billy!” a voice says. Oliver looks over. A teenaged girl he recognizes as a neighbor of his, Kimberly, comes over and scoops him up. “Come on, we need to get home. Mom and dad are waiting.” Oliver’s eyes widen. The cloth diaper was reusable, so he wasn’t the first to wear it. He’s switched lives with a neighbor’s toddler son!
The new Billy looks around, worried about the fate of the old Billy. To his relief, he sees someone that looks just like he did this morning, walking away from the playground. At least the old Billy didn’t end up being a toddler like the new Billy just was.
Billy allows himself to be carried over to a stroller and buckled in. Kimberly pushes the stroller away from the park. They cross paths with the new Oliver. Oliver and Kimberly start up a casual conversation while Billy sits in the stroller, trying to think of a plan. At least he ended up turning into a neighbor. Hopefully he’ll be able to find a way to put on some of his old clothes.
“By the way, Kimberly,” Oliver says, “I’m fine with babysitting any time you want. I babysat you when you were Billy’s age, after all.” Kimberly beams.
“That would be great! Would you be able to babysit tomorrow?”
“Sure!”
“Awesome. I’ll set it up with my parents.” Kimberly reaches into the stroller to ruffle Billy’s hair. “Hear that, Billy? Oliver’s going to babysit you tomorrow!”
They reach the apartment complex and part ways. Billy is brought to the apartment Kimberly lives in with her parents and younger brother. The evening passes by with a series of humiliations that Billy begins to grow numb to. Diaper changes, being bathed, being fed, all these become less and less distressing as they happen more and more.
Billy wakes up the next morning as he is being carried to his old apartment by Kimberly. Kimberly knocks on the door. Oliver opens the door. He is promptly handed Billy and a diaper bag.
“Thanks again,” Kimberly says. Oliver shrugs.
“No problem! Billy and I will have a great day!” Oliver closes the apartment door and sets Billy on the floor. Billy immediately spots a sock. He waits until Oliver goes to a different room, then crawls over to the sock, slips on the ring, and prepares to change back. Before he has a chance to slip on the sock, Oliver returns.
“That’s my sock,” Oliver says. “What are you doing…”