Kyle looked over the options the software gave. Some of them looked ominous and overwhelming: "World changes", "Targeted individual changes", and "Design presets" looked off-limits to him until he got a handle on how to use the thing. He did see a check-box in the lower left that said "Failsafe: ON" which gave him some comfort, even if he didn't know what could possibly fail. He chose the only option that made sense to try out in the meantime: "Self changes".
This gave a whole new list of options that he could alter. Physical attributes, character attributes, even physical makeup and species. He even noticed that he could change his age. However, the age option was more involved than Kyle expected. It gave him control over not just physical age, but mental age as well. There was also a third option called "Mechanical age". No other explanation was given: just a slider that he could use to set whatever mechanical age was supposed to be. He moved the slider down to 1 year, just to see if it gave any explanation. He also noticed that the duration slider was set to "Permanent", and he decided that it would be safer if he set it to only one hour. He looked all over the interface, but nothing changed. He moved down to the "Accept" button. "Maybe it'll ask me to confirm changes, and it'll explain there," Kyle thought to himself. In his haste, he pressed the button, hoping to find answers.
All he found was a new pop-up window with a loading bar and the text "Adopting changes..." Kyle started "Wait-" and before he could do anything else, felt a wave of disorientation flow through his body. He blinked slowly in a vain attempt to clear his head, but everything felt dizzy. Looking in front of him, his computer desk looked like it was floating towards him and away from him at the same time. Kyle kicked his legs out, pushing his chair away from the desk, hoping to reorient himself, but he began listing to he side. He tried to catch himself, but he simply flopped over the side of the chair, almost as if he was limp. He thrashed his legs out, but in his current position, he only succeeded into launching himself around the arm of his chair, and onto the floor.
Kyle got his arms under him and focused on the floor for several moments. Finally, the room stopped spinning, and he was able to collect himself. He tried pushing himself to a standing position, but all he succeeded in doing was lurching forward onto his stomach, like a worm. Confused, and more than a little worried that he couldn't get off the floor, Kyle rolled onto his back, in an attempt to look at the program. He could make out a pop-up window saying "Changes adopted", but this was quickly covered by a new window with big red lettering: "FAILSAFE ACTIVATED." Kyle thought to himself, "Failsafe?" Before he could get a chance to worry about what that could entail, he heard shuffling coming up the stairs. A soft, baritone "Hmmm, hm hmmm, hm hmmm" accompanied it, that sounded distinctly unlike Trevor. Who was in the house with Kyle? And Kyle was helpless! If this stranger found him - The knob turned, and the door opened.
Through the door ducked an enormous red creature. When it raised its head to its full height, it looked distinctly like a dragon. There was a dragon in the room with Kyle, who lay prone and helpless on the floor. Its torso was ponderously large, almost pear-shaped and looked like it could fit Kyle inside. Its stocky legs came out from the bottom and were placed closer to the sides, and looked like they could surely outrun him. Its bulging arms looked like they were packed with muscle, and could easily rip Kyle apart. Its head was big to match the rest of its body, practically scraping the ceiling, and it turned to look at Kyle. It opened its maw to stuff Kyle inside. There was no escape, he was dead.
"Aw sweetie, you fell down," it said in a strong, deep, yet delicate voice. "Come here." The dragon waddled over to Kyle, replacing the computer chair at the desk it was shoved from, and it descended upon Kyle, who raised his arms in defense. The hulking beast's big, red arms slid under Kyle and effortlessly lifted the grown man up. The dragon adjusted its arms to cradle Kyle, who was helpless but to lay bunched up in those arms against its red underbelly. Being snuggled up close to the dragon, Kyle could now feel what it was made of: instead of cold, hard scales like he expected, the dragon actually felt like an enormous plush doll. There was also a small amount of warmth that emanated from the dragon's body, which disarmed Kyle momentarily, who could only stare upward, stunned at the impossible creature supporting him.
"I'm here now. That's better, isn't it?" the dragon asked, as it raised Kyle's head up and bent its own muzzle down to Kyle's face. The red snout pushed into Kyle's cheek, and he blushed at the unwelcome affectionate treatment. As his face grew redder in a futile attempt to match the dragon's coloring, he could also detect that the big plushie was slowly rotating from side to side, rocking Kyle in some attempt to soothe him. The whole experience was overwhelming and made Kyle feel very small and weak, but it did slowly calm him from his previous anxiety. This dragon didn't belong in this house, for sure. But it didn't seem to want to hurt Kyle, yet at least. For now, he simply enjoyed the comfort of being cuddled by this mysterious creature, and used the time to collect his thoughts.
"Okay, little guy, let's get you dressed then." The dragon walked over to the bed, and slowly lowered Kyle so that his feet were at the very edge. It then waddled over to the end of the bed, clearly occupied with some new goal. Kyle recognized this chance to figure out what's going on, and so he asked: "Wah gah gah..." He stopped. His mouth wasn't working. "Mah bah bah bah!" he said insistently, as his arms pounded the bed in frustration. He couldn't get his mouth around the words he wanted to say! "Oh my, somebody's talkative today!" the dragon chuckled in its deep voice, as it started to remove Kyle's shoes. Kyle, in the meantime, explored his own mouth. His lips felt stiff, and his tongue felt like it wouldn't make any sounds at the front of his mouth. Everything suddenly felt harder to say. In a flash of inspiration, Kyle focused on the one word he needed to get his question across. His tongue at the front, right at the roof of his mouth, and once he pulled that off, he could then just open his mouth and close it.
"Nahm?" Kyle asked. "Very good!" the dragon said in a patronizing tone. Kyle liked the tone more than he would have liked to admit, and he gave a sheepish grin in return. The dragon continued: "My name is... Falstaff. Your name is... Kyle." The dragon gave deliberate pauses and enunciated each word, as if it was talking to a baby. But now Kyle knew its name, and he felt like he could trust... him. Kyle wasn't comfortable with not being able to navigate his own mouth, let alone his entire body, but if Falstaff kept up his caring attitude, Kyle felt like he could get through it. He felt like if Falstaff took care of him, everything would be okay.
"Fah... Fahthdah." Kyle tried repeating the name back to his new caretaker. "Yes! Falstaff!" the dragon responded, still enunciating each word. By now, he had started removing Kyle's socks. "Fahdaff," Kyle said in a second attempt. The dragon chuckled, and he repeated "Yes, Falstaff," clearly amused by his charge's attempts. Kyle couldn't help but smile at the genial approval of this dragon, especially when said in such a soothing bass voice. Falstaff reached up to Kyle's belt and undid it, slowly working it through the belt loops of his shorts. As Falstaff worked, Kyle glanced back at the computer, and was reminded of the words, "FAILSAFE ACTIVATED." He had completely forgotten! But what was the failsafe? "Fayday..." Kyle mumbled more to himself than to this dragon. "Falstaff," the large dragon gently corrected, yet again. This was the push Kyle needed: he realized the connection! "Fayday Fahdaff!" Kyle exclaimed, his arms pounding the bed in excitement as he figured out that Falstaff was the failsafe.
It was then that Kyle noticed that his failsafe dragon had just unbuttoned and lowered his shorts, revealing his underwear. Kyle's excitement quickly faded away, as he realized that Falstaff was undressing him. Kyle shot his hands to the only garment keeping him decent, and started blushing in embarrassment. Why was Falstaff exposing Kyle? The red dragon turned back to him, and said "Well, those are some real big boy pants! But it looks like you had an accident. Time to take those things off." As the hulking dragon reached for the underpants, Kyle finally realized that his hands detected a bit of wetness. Did he really wet himself? He didn't have enough time to figure out the answer to this question as Falstaff pulled the underwear away, leaving Kyle completely naked from the waist down, and helpless to do anything about his junk lying there, for the dragon to see. Falstaff wasn't intererested in that, however, as he was in Kyle's underwear. He held up the underwear where Kyle could see it, and remarked "Looks like you need some easier pants to wear, kiddo." Kyle could clearly see that the underwear was quite yellow at the front. He really did pee his own pants.
"I'll be right back, I'm gonna get you some new things to wear." Falstaff took his soiled pants with him as he walked out of Kyle's room and into the hallway, leaving the 30-year-old man alone to mull over what just happened. His caretaker that he trusted just stripped him naked from the waist down! But now on top of that, Kyle had wet himself! Why should he endure the treatment of this dragon? But how could he say he shouldn't be treated this way if he couldn't control his own bladder? But all of these questions were moot anyways - Kyle couldn't even move properly! And he couldn't speak, and he wet himself like some sort of -
"I'm back, kiddo!" Falstaff warmly announced as he padded into the room, forestalling Kyle's swiftly approaching breakdown. He was holding a large tote bag, filled with quite a lot of things from the looks of it. He set the bag down, reached inside, and pulled out an oversized diaper. He held it up in his paw, showing Kyle, as he said "I found your pants! Let's get you all cleaned up and dressed." Kyle blanched at the thought of Falstaff putting him in a diaper, but all he could do is mutter, "Nah, dah, wah..." Falstaff effortlessly hoisted Kyle's legs up with one gigantic hand and reproached, "Now Kyle, you know you need a change when you soil your pants," as he slid a changing pad under Kyle's raised bottom. He was quite upset at how he was simply being manhandled by Falstaff, but he couldn't even voice any of his objections to the matter: Kyle just had to lay there and take it. And he hated how exposed he was, with his dick out for Falstaff to see. But this train of thought was derailed, or developed as it were, by Falstaff taking a clean wipe and rubbing down all of Kyle's groin, to clean off the excess urine. Kyle shrank at the cold, damp feeling of the wet wipe around his genitals, and felt very vulnerable as this dragon-man simply exerted free reign over his body. The only thing Kyle had going for him was that Falstaff was taking care of him, but this only served to strengthen Kyle's feelings of helplessness before this enormous red being that reached to the ceiling.
Falstaff sprinkled a bit of corn starch onto Kyle's moist groin, and before Kyle could process the feeling or implications, Falstaff held up the diaper that he seemed to be determined to latch onto Kyle. The diaper front was covered in fish, and Falstaff unfurled the garment to show that its sides were a deep, vibrant blue. Kyle didn't want this colorful thing on his body! But Falstaff again hoisted Kyle's legs helplessly into the air with one large paw, and slid the diaper under. Kyle felt the offending garment touch his behind, and that sent him into a panic. In a last-ditch effort to resist the inevitable, Kyle let out a clear "Nah, Fahdaff!" and shook his head vigorously. Falstaff looked at Kyle in a suddenly stern gaze, and firmly said "Kyle, babies need their diapies." He said it. Falstaff said what Kyle was afraid of. This dragon thought that Kyle was a baby. Like some... 1-year old. Kyle finally put the pieces together: the Chronivac gave him the capabilities of a 1-year old, and this somehow triggered the software's failsafe, which created a large plush dragon to take care of him. Kyle was stuck as an overgrown baby, with Falstaff doting over him as such. And as Kyle finished running through the thought process, he realized that Falstaff had just finished taping the ends of the diaper together. Kyle was now wearing an adult-sized diaper.
With all of the puzzle assembled, Kyle was able to fully realize his helplessness in the situation. He could only act like a baby, and he would be treated as such, and there was no alternative in sight. He looked down at his... the diaper, and felt at it with a clumsy hand. The outside was plasticky, and crinkled uncomfortably loudly at his touch. The inner padding was a little too snug and full-bodied, and it reminded him of how his bladder betrayed him before, and could easily betray him again. It would have been bearable if the diaper was completely white, but the fishies on the front and the vibrant blue siding around his legs made it so... blatant. It announced to whoever saw him that he was supposed to be wearing these diapers, because he was stuck as a helpless baby. Kyle was helpless. His train of thought raced towards humiliation, and he began to tear up.
Falstaff took notice, and set down whatever garment he was going to produce next. "Aw, I know you don't like it," he said in his reassuring baritone. "Here..." He reached down into his bag and took out some object that was completely dwarfed by his own large plush paw. "Maybe this well help," he said as he brought the new object up to Kyle's lips. It slipped through his teeth, and the rubber end rested on the front of his tongue. His mouth took over examining the new object, and it gave it some experimental sucks. Kyle noticed that the object started bumping against his lips. "There's your pacifier," Falstaff said soothingly, as he went back to what he was doing. Kyle's mouth, for some reason, wouldn't stop sucking on the thing, and for some reason the action gave him some measure of comfort. He felt himself slowly bring himself back from the precipice of tears, helped with each suck of the blue binky. He knew he shouldn't have one, but it was making him feel better. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. Kyle decided to rationalize: "If I'm going to be trapped in diapers, sucking a pacifier isn't all that worse," he thought to himself.
"Alrighty, kiddo, let's get you dressed." Falstaff bent over his charge, and brought Kyle up to a sitting position. "Arms up!" said Falstaff, as he took Kyle's T-shirt and quickly peeled it off. "Now let's get you standing." He grabbed Kyle's torso and effortlessly lifted him off the bed. Falstaff took the opportunity to bring his baby to be face to face, and he quickly bumped his muzzle into Kyle's nose. "Boop!" quipped Falstaff. Kyle couldn't help but smile around his pacifier as Falstaff set him down on the floor, and the dragon copied his grin. As Falstaff reached for Kyle's new shirt, the baby was left standing on the floor for the first time since this all started. Kyle felt a little unsteady, but he was able to keep himself from wobbling over with a careful positioning of his feet. Or at least, that's what he wanted to think, but in reality, he looked and sounded more like he was stomping in place. His leg movements were big and jerky, and for some reason he could only manage to think about one leg at a time. And all the while, he was getting practice in moving in the diaper. The frills along the top of the diaper rose up much farther than any other underpants he ever wore. They competed for height with his belly button. And with each plod Kyle took, they crinkled fiercely. Surprisingly, the rest of his diaper wasn't as loud, and it fit snugly agaist his crotch, so he wasn't afraid of it ever slipping off. Normally he would have taken any chance he could get to take them off, but in his current position and with Falstaff's doting, he doubted he could manage any acts of rebellion, and settled for whatever security he could find.
"Arms up!" repeated Falstaff, as he guided Kyle's hands to the sky. A soft, pastel navy-blue shirt made its way down Kyle, and ended up through his arms and head. Looking down, he saw that it was covered in a crosshatch pattern of fish, just like the diaper. As he examined his new topwear, he could feel it tighten at the front and back, and he heard some metal snaps from directly under him. Looking down, he saw Falstaff kneeling down to his crotch, and fiddling with something. He quickly finished, and went to the bag to pick up some more items. Kyle looked down, and saw that his shirt now covered the whole diaper. But it looked like the shirt kept going under him. He looked around, and saw that it was doing the same thing at the back. "A onesie", he realized. He was no longer displaying an adult-sized diaper, but now he was sporting a babyish onesie nonetheless. It stretched around his slight paunch as it was a tight fit, but it was consolation that it held the diaper in place and muffled its sounds.
"One last thing, little guy," Falstaff said warmly. He produced four different things that appeared to be blue socks made to look like boots. He hoisted Kyle onto the bed, who was in the meantime slowly getting used to being carried around by a larger creature. Falstaff slipped the faux socks onto Kyle's feet, which revealed them to be booties. He then took the other two socks and quickly stuffed them onto Kyle's hands. It was when Falstaff started tying them on securely that Kyle realized that they're mittens, and they weren't coming off. Even if he had his normal coordination, they would be tricky to remove, but under the current circumstances, his hands were effectively reduced to flippers. He hated the loss of control, even if he was't exactly in control in the first place, and he felt his emotions well up again, even past his suckles on the binky. He looked at Falstaff meekly. Falstaff looked back at him with the most reassuring smile Kyle had ever seen. He would have thought it patronizing under any normal circumstance, but he found comfort in this bigger, stronger being who looked like everything was fine. Falstaff was even bending down with his hands on his knees, a posture not lost on Kyle, but the only feelings it could dredge up in him were safety and security. "Feel better now you're all dressed?" Falstaff asked. Kyle couldn't deny it anymore. Falstaff was here to take care of him. Kyle was helpless, but Falstaff was here to keep him safe. The dragon was Kyle's entire world. Kyle felt so small, and the bed felt so vast and empty, that a wave of insecurity and timidness washed over him. All he wanted was to be near his guardian. He gave out a week "Nuh" through the binky, and stretched his arms out to Falstaff in an attempt to grab him. Falstaff sensed Kyle's concern, and scooped the baby up into his arms.
"That's right, everything's just fine," Falstaff said. He held Kyle cradled in his arms, and Kyle rested his head into Falstaff's plush chest. "Everything's fine," Falstaff repeated. His smooth, deep voice coming from his chest soothed Kyle, as he snuggled closer to it and closed his eyes. Falstaff started rocking lightly from left to right. "I'm here," he assured. And Kyle knew it to be true. Falstaff was here, and so Kyle was safe. His heartbeat slowed as he was rocked from side to side, and he lost himself in the sensations of Falstaff's soft, strong body, his deep coos, the strangely comfortable baby clothes, and his periodic suckles on the blue pacifier in his mouth.
Eventually, Kyle opened his eyes. At first, he wasn't looking at anything in particular, but then he realized that Falstaff was positioned so that Kyle could see his computer screen again. The screen had changed since he had last looked: it still had "FAILSAFE ACTIVATED" in large, red lettering, but it had text below it in a pop-up window. Kyle was still being rocked to and fro, so he had to read it in a couple short bursts, but he could make out: "Time to revert: 47:38". His heart skipped a beat. He finally remembered that there was an option for duration. It had been set to "Permanent" originally, and he had changed it to only 1 hour. This was the hour clock, and it was slowly counting down. He would revert back in 47:38, to a mechanical age of 30 years. He wasn't stuck like this! In 47 minutes, he'd be able to walk, and talk, and he wouldn't have to rely on Falstaff anymore. And in the next rock of Falstaff's big arms, Kyle saw that the timer read 46 minutes.
46 whole minutes left. Even though he wasn't stuck as an overgrown baby forever, Kyle still had 46 minutes left before he could do anything. 46 minutes of being a damn baby. Of being helpless. Of peeing his own pants. Of being stuck in these comfy baby clothes. Of being doted on by this weird dragon. Of being taken care of. Of being safe. Of being rocked, from side to side, held securely in his dragon's arms, warm in his clothes, with not a care in the world. Maybe... Kyle could ride it out.
"You've got your clean diapie, your binky, and your onesie. You're all dressed, and you're safe," Falstaff cooed affectionately. Kyle had resisted ownership of the things on his body before, but hearing Falstaff say they were his, and knowing he wasn't stuck as a baby forever, let Kyle ease into the mindset. He was wearing his diapie... diaper. He was sucking his binky. He was wearing his onesie, his booties, and his mittens. And it was okay. He was with Falstaff, so everything was okay. He experimentally said "Mah... dah... pee." He expected it to be harder to speak with his binky in his mouth, but in reality his binky made it easier for him to form his lips around the sounds. Falstaff smiled and said "Yes, your diapie." He bent down and nuzzled Kyle, who giggled as the ticklish plush muzzle rubbed his face. Kyle's pacifier made it so the giggle was more full-bodied and baby-ish than he would have preferred, but he was with Falstaff, he was too secure to care. Falstaff straightened back up and beamed down at Kyle, who beamed in return through his pacifier. "That's a good baby," Falstaff said, as he gave his arms a couple light bounces. Kyle giggled some more despite himself, and relaxed further as he was playfully jostled around.
Falstaff bent down and took the bag in a free finger, and started out of Kyle's bedroom. While nestling Kyle in his arms, he padded carefully down the stairs, ducking when the ceiling came too close to his head. Kyle looked up dreamily at Falstaff the whole time, with a slight smile on his pacified face. He was wholly absorbed in his delightful caretaker, and hardly noticing where he was being brought. It wasn't until the harsher kitchen lights came into view that he refocused on his surroundings. Falstaff set the bag down, and moved Kyle to only be supported on one arm. This left some of Kyle to dangle down, but it gave him a better view of what the dragon was doing. He was momentarily surprised when Falstaff pulled out a larger facsimile of a baby bottle, but given their newfound relationship he set the question aside, as it made sense in context. Falstaff, while navigating his tail around the chairs and table, and while balancing Kyle in one hand, performed the Herculean feat of filling the bottle with milk and setting it to microwave, all the while humming to himself or saying sweet nothings to Kyle. Presently, Falstaff walked with Kyle in his two arms back to the living room, with a newly made bottle of warm milk.
The dragon moved his tail to the side so he could sit down on the couch without crushing it, and he positioned himself at a corner to help support his baby. Kyle waited patiently as he was manipulated into a feeding position. He was gradually letting himself slip into his temporary role of infancy, so he let himself only be concerned about his physical comfort at the moment, and snuggled into his Falstaff as far as he could. And when he saw his baby bottle come into view, he stretched out his mittens and exclaimed, "Bahbah!" Falstaff chuckled, and said "Oh boy, baby wants his baba, huh?" He reached down and took the pacifier out of Kyle's mouth. Kyle moved his tongue around a mouth that now felt empty without a teat to suck, and he offered a lame protest that was more genuine than he expected, but he was reassured and quieted by the bottle nipple approaching him. Kyle opened his mouth as the nipple approached, and was rewarded with a new rubber teat to suckle. He placed his hands at the sides of the bottle, but with his thumbs trapped in his mittens, he couldn't really support the bottle on his own, so the gentle Falstaff had his own hand at the very end, tipped at a slight angle so Kyle could drink.
Kyle took some experimental sucks, and was greeted with air for the first couple, but milk gradually found its way through the teat and into his mouth. He was surprised that the warm milk tasted so good, and started sucking earnestly. Each pulse of his lips and tongue only offered a small amount of milk, so he drank slowly. Without being able to focus on finishing the bottle immediately, his mind wandered. He saw his mittens holding the bottle in place, and could feel the warmth of the milk seeping through them. He looked up at Falstaff, who was smiling softly down on him. Kyle sheepishly giggled a bit, but went quickly back to suckling. Seeing his caretaker smile so reassuringly, being next to his plush dragon, being dressed in such snug, warm clothing, feeling the warmth of the milk through his hands and in his stomach, made Kyle drowsy. In a haze of comfort, he let his eyes flutter closed, as he continued to let himself be bottle-fed.
Suckle. Milk. Warmth. Safe. These weren't words that went through Kyle's head, but they were sensations and feelings he experienced. It felt so calming to have his existence reduced to these four things. Nothing else mattered, at least not right now. He dozed off in safety and warmth as he continued to suckle his bottle and drink his milk. Suckle, milk. Suckle, milk. Suckle, milk. Suckle, air. Suckle, milk. Suckle, air. Suckle, air. Something changed, one of the elements was gone. He opened his eyes to look around. His arms had fallen to his sides, and Falstaff was holding the empty bottle to his mouth as he drank the last of his milk. Kyle was so stupified by the experience that he barely had time to process his bottle being taken out of his mouth and replaced by his blue pacifier. "Good baby," Falstaff said softly. He set the bottle aside, and used his free hand to gently pet Kyle's head. His baby cooed groggily in approval, and looked back up at him with no strong emotions, only trust and calm.
Kyle was very comfortable with a stomach full of milk, but he had just drank a full pint in the span of however many minutes he had been sitting here. Presently, the feeling of having to belch overtook him. He remembered that babies were manually burped, so he tried requesting it. Rather, he thought about using his vocal chords, but the lethargy brought onto him by the comforting actions of Falstaff hadn't worn off. Instead, he started fidgeting his arms and legs, in an attempt to convey his minor distress. Falstaff, seeing that Kyle was done resting, stood back up. He took Kyle from his previous cradled position and gave him a full-body hug, with Kyle's behind supported near the dragon's chest. This let Kyle see a bit above Falstaff's shoulder. "Okay, kiddo, time for burpies," he said, as he started softly patting Kyle's back in an attempt to jostle his stomach around. Kyle, on the other hand, had thirty years of experience with burping, and so it came quite naturally. Luckily the Chronivac didn't take away his capability to flex his stomach, and so with clenching the right muscles, Kyle let out a resounding belch that almost threw his pacifier away.
"Wow, good burpies!" exclaimed Falstaff, as he held Kyle in front of him, face to face. The dragon beamed at his baby, seemingly ecstatic at his burp, and Kyle couldn't help but smile back with a slight measure of pride. Falstaff again brought his muzzle to Kyle's face in a nose-boop, eliciting a hearty giggle. "Baby's excited today," remarked the dragon as he set Kyle back on his own two feet. "Maybe we can burn some of that energy off somehow." The gargantuan plush reptile turned around, and waved his long tail back and forth at Kyle. "Can't catch me!" he taunted, as he took a couple steps away. Kyle stood there processing Falstaff's offer of tag. This would be easy! All he had to do was launch himself at the dragon and full-body tackle him. He grinned mischieviously and executed his plan, and toddled forward a few paces, arms outstretched. But by the time he had made it to Falstaff's previous position, the dragon had taken a couple more steps forward! He was still ahead of Kyle! Kyle grinned at the game, and took off in a flurry of infantile stomps, chasing his lumbering prey around the couch, without regard for the crinkles of his diapie.
Falstaff started forward again and called out, "Uh oh, he's catching up!" He kept lumbering forward, keeping just a few feet in front of Kyle. Kyle bounded after him, laughing all the way. One well-placed step launched Kyle's pacifier out of his mouth, which gave him pause. He looked down, and saw his binky dangling from a clip he didn't know was attached to the chest of his onesie, but he gave that little thought as he simply replaced his pacifier into his mouth and resumed the chase with vigor. As he ran, Kyle briefly thought that he felt some pressure coming from his bladder, but it was gone in a flash, so he paid it no mind. After a couple of rotations around the couch, Falstaff started slowing down, and waving his tail more vigorously at his chaser. Kyle realized that his speed was starting to catch him up to the reptile! He gave one last push and he had wrapped his arms around the base of that big red tail. "Gahta!" he yelled.
"Oh, no, you got me..." bellowed Falstaff in a mockery of a death-cry. He fell to his hands and knees, both to add to his performance, and to make sure Kyle was able to steady himself on his plush body if need be. He did indeed feel Kyle steady himself on his ridged back, and so the dragon used this opportunity to turn over and catch his baby. Falstaff sat on the floor as he held Kyle upright, and he said brightly, "You caught the dragon!" "Yay!" Kyle yelled, throwing his gloved hands in the air. He threw them forward at his dragon, who on cue brought him into a bear hug. Falstaff rocked vigorously side-to-side, growling "Ooohhh, you caught the big dragon." Kyle sat there with Falstaff, head buried in his fluffy chest, and grinned shamelessly at the patronizing tone. The rocks gradually became lighter and lighter, as they transitioned to a regular hug, which Kyle relaxed into.
In these few seconds of calm, Kyle was able to reflect on his time downstairs with his Falstaff. He was surprised he was able to slip into the infantile role so well, and the reason, which surprised him even more, was that it was so fun. He loved the way Falstaff held him securely, he loved how Falstaff took care of his needs, and he loved how they played together. He even loved Falstaff's patronizing tone. His sweet, deep voice somehow made each thing he said reassuring, instead of condescending. Kyle's heartbeat slowed as he reveled in the safety he felt in Falstaff's big embrace, and the faint warmth emanating from his diapie, and he snuggled into the dragon's chest to get closer to him.
Falstaff broke the hug a little too soon for Kyle's taste, and he got back up onto his own two massive legs. "Alright, little guy, that's enough for now. I think someone needs a change." Kyle's adult brain quickly kicked in as he would normally be mortified that he soiled his own clothes, but looking at Falstaff give him that reassuring smile made it hard for Kyle to worry. This let Kyle rationalize it in his mind: If he needed a change, so what? He was a baby, for now. And Falstaff would clean him and change him. Everything would be all right, even if he did pee his diapie.
Falstaff found his supply bag in the kitchen, and looped it around his tail, which he hitched up high to carry it while freeing his arms. He took Kyle by the mitten, and walked him to the stairs. "Okay, buddy, up the stairs." Falstaff took a light hold of Kyle's torso as the baby took in the steps before him. Normally the task of climbing the stairs would be an afterthought, but the Chronivac changed that. Kyle now had to figure them out from scratch. He sucked his binky thoughtfully as he tried plopping one booted foot on the first stair. Then he pushed that leg up. He gave himself some lift, and Falstaff compensated by guiding him onto the next stair. Kyle repeated the process, reversing the legs this time. Trying to remember how he had climbed stairs in the past, he tried landing his upper foot closer to the edge, which let him lift a bit easier. After this second stair, Kyle felt a pressure building up in his abdomen. Now he had two things to concentrate on: his cramps, and climbing the next stair. He clenched his rear at this familiar feeling, but climbing each step was spreading his legs out too far to be able to hold it in his current state. By the time he got one boot onto the sixth stair, his body couldn't hold it anymore. He paused and involuntarily tensed his muscles. It was clear to Kyle that his body was betraying him: if it couldn't hold the poop in, it was pushing all of it out. He felt his diapie sag as he pushed out the mess, and warmth again flooded into his diapie. This wasn't a wet warmth like he imagined peeing his diapie to be, but a squishy warmth that he didn't want to feel, or pay attention to. But as quickly as it started, it finished. Kyle had successfully, in some sense of that word, pooped his diapie.
Kyle froze, because he didn't want to move around in the mess. But he was busy climbing the stairs. He couldn't have both, so he simply stopped. But he was halfway through a step. And just like that, Falstaff helped him finish that step, by lifting him up, and setting him down on the next step. "Okay buddy, next one!" he said cheerfully. Little did he know that Kyle was now mortified that he had changed positions, and now the mess was squished all around his backside. Kyle just wanted to be out of the diapie. He protested a bit, and murmured "Nuuuhhh..." as he gave his feet some light stomps in frustration. He was quickly scooped up and cradled again in Falstaff's arms, and the big dragon said "Well that's okay, you did six whole steps today! That's good enough for now." Kyle snuggled his face into his dragon's chest, which helped comfort and distract him from the sensation of his poopy butt getting smushed against the arms holding him.
Together they entered the room where this all started. The changing pad was still on the bed, right where Falstaff left it. He gracefully set his messy charge on the pad, and Kyle was subjected to another round of squishing around his behind. The dragon brought his plush tail around and took the supply bag into his hands. As he staged the implements of diaper changing, Kyle took the opportunity to steal a glance at his computer screen. He couldn't make out how much time there was left, but he did see that it started with a 1. Sitting in his thoroughly messed diaper, Kyle was relieved that he wouldn't have to bear it for much longer. On the other hand, Kyle had had so much fun today, even if it was in his diapie he whole time. He blushed, and sucked hard at his binky to cope with the embarrassing revelation that being literally babied was a lovely experience.
Falstaff swiftly went through the routine he did only 40 minutes prior, made even faster since Kyle's only outer covering was a snap-on onesie. With a tug at the bottom, it came undone, and Falstaff had full access to Kyle's diapie. The only change to the changing was an offhand remark, "Hoo boy, you sure did a number on this one, huh?" This made Kyle's blush much more vivid, and he was acutely aware of how large of an area Falstaff was wiping with the wet wipes. The draconic caretaker disposed of the wipes and the rolled-up diaper in a trash can only he knew the origin of, generously powdered Kyle's now clean groin, and slid another diaper under him. Kyle's new diapie was a solid bright sky blue, and was covered with cute designs of sparkles and things that fly. Falstaff quickly rebuttoned the onesie, and pulled Kyle up to a sitting position. "There you go, all clean," Falstaff said with a hint of satisfaction.
Kyle sat there, looking down at himself. He hadn't really given himself a hard look before, but now with his infantile time coming to a close, he wanted to examine his own state. He saw his binky bobbing back and forth in his peripheral vision, attached to a plastic clip that was hooked onto his shirt. His blue onesie wrapped all the way down under him, but his diapie still peeked out at his leg holes. Those holes accentuated his manly, hairy legs, which ended in bright blue booties. He broughted his mittened hands to his groin, and felt at his diaper bulge. He blushed at its prominence: anyone who looked at him would be able to tell he was wearing his diapie. And with his hands trapped in his mittens, he wouldn't be able to get it off even if he wanted. He looked to the creature that caused this all. Falstaff was kneeling beside the bed, but his height held him at face level with Kyle, who was still sitting on the bed. The dragon was still wearing his trademark grin: it conveyed the reassurance that everything was fine, and it also had a hint of satisfaction that he was such an excellent caretaker. He had made this past hour glorious. It was an emotional roller coaster, but Falstaff made it safe. Kyle couldn't decide whether to smile gratefully or cry with joy, so he did both as he held his hands out to the dragon. Falstaff knelt forward and accepted the hug. Kyle whispered to him, "Fan' koo." Falstaff said, in his smooth baritone, "You're welcome, sweetie. I'm glad we could have fun together." They snuggled into each other's embrace.
After a couple minutes, they broke their hug. Kyle yawned through his pacifier, and Falstaff responded "Oh, sleepy baby. Here..." he scooped Kyle up in his arms again, and once again began cradling him. Kyle relaxed into the familiar pose, and began to doze off. Falstaff started humming to some unknown lullaby, and Kyle leaned his head to Falstaff's chest to have his deep, soothing voice resonate through him. He vaguely felt the sensations of being carried around the room and being rocked, but he was too at peace to care. He had his binky, his clean diapie, and his draggy. He lost himself in Falstaff's humming, which grew softer, and softer, and softer. Soon, he could only detect rocking. He could barely hear the whisper, "Ssshhh, the baby's sleeping." Of course he was sleeping. He was so comfortable he wouldn't be doing anything else right now.
But something disturbed him out of his misty reverie. Falstaff gently murmured into his ear, "Honey, time to wake up..." Kyle stirred, but didn't move. "Wakey wakey, your friend is here..." Falstaff gave him a gentle jostle to get his thoughts flowing. This successfully brought Kyle out of his trance, and his bleary eyes began to open. The first thing he saw was Falstaff's face, beaming down at him, and Kyle couldn't help but beam back. He then saw the face sweetly say "Look who's here, honey." He turned to where the dragon was looking, and blinked his eyes a couple times. At first, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, as he thought he saw another person standing there. "Well hello there," it said in a crisp, clear, familiar voice. It was Trevor. Kyle felt electricity and ice flow through his entire body as he realized that Trevor caught him like this. Trevor was his husband. He worked as a bank manager. He was 30. Kyle was 30. Kyle was a high-end consultant. Professional consultants do not wear onesies, or binkies, or diapers. And Trevor saw it all. He saw all of those things, and was looking at Kyle with the most vigorous amusement.
Kyle realized that Falstaff was gently lowering him onto the bed, and before he could gather his wits, the dragon said "Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure getting to meet you." He gracefully walked past Trevor, who let him go without any resistance. Trevor then turned back to his baby-ish husband, and the first thing he said was, "Looks like you couldn't wait for me." With the largest shit-eating grin, he turned to the computer screen. Kyle followed his gaze, and watched the timer count down the last two seconds. And before he could brace himself -
Snap. Everything became clear. He sat up under his own power. He took the pacifier out. His hands were trapped in the mittens. He frantically tried to untie them, as he began to panic. Before he could make much progress, Trevor knelt in front of him and said consolingly, "Hey, hey, take it easy." He easily undid the ties on the mittens, freeing Kyle's hands. Trevor also took the booties off, for good measure. "It looks like you've had a real time with this thing. You wanna shower real quick?" Kyle was beginning to tear up, mortified that his husband had to see him in his infantile state. But Trevor wasn't showing any malice. He wore a comforting face. Kyle's distress plateaued, as he registered that Trevor was willing to understand and comfort him. He nodded and quietly murmured, "Yeah." Trevor nodded, got up and went back to the computer to examine the new software.