Immediately, Marshall walked right into someone. He looked up. It was Christine. Christine crouched down to smile at him.
“Hey, little boy. Are you lost?” she asked.
“It me. Martha,” Marshall said, speaking through his toddler lisp. Christine’s eyes widened.
“Marcia? Is that really you?” she asked. Marshall nodded. “What happened?”
“Banthee made me wittew.”
“Are you really a boy right now?”
“Yeth.” Marshall tugged at his clothes. “Happen when I get dwethed.”
“Hmm.” Christine frowned thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t help you with the toddler situation, but I do know where to find some clothes for a little girl. Do you think that putting on girl clothes would turn you back into a girl?”
“Maybe.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
“Yeth.”
“All right.” Christine picked Marshall up. She began to walk. “My ancestors who built this mansion were a bit old-fashioned and insisted on separate nurseries. You must have found the boys’ nursery. I’m taking you to the girls’ one now.” They arrived at a closed door. Christine opened it. Marshall blinked, overwhelmed by the amount of pink and lace in the girls’ nursery.
“It a lot.”
“Yes. It is.” Christine set Marshall down on the floor and began to rummage through a dresser. “Ah-ha!” She pulled out a pink shirt.
“Need diapy,” Marshall said. Christine looked at him, confused. Marshall blushed. “Not to uthe. But to be girw again.”
“Oh, you think a girl diaper might be necessary to turn back?” Christine asked. Marshall nodded. “Hmm.” Christine rummaged a bit more. “Found one.” She came back to Marshall with the pink shirt and a disposable diaper patterned with princesses. “Technically, these are for babies, but they should still fit.”
Christine removed Marshall’s clothes and diaper.
“Hmm. You peed a little bit,” she remarked. Marshall turned beet red. “I’m not judging you, don’t worry. You’re little right now, after all.” Quickly and efficiently, she taped the diaper on and pulled the shirt over Marshall’s head. “There!” Christine turned Marshall around so that he could see his reflection in the mirror. “Don’t you look cute?”
“…Yeah,” Marshall mumbled. He held his breath, waiting for the change that was sure to come.