"You two play nice, now." Nick called over his shoulder as he exited the room. "I'll go finish breakfast."
Wes gulped as he was left alone with nine-year-old Clark, awed and horrified at how thoroughly the small boy dwarfed him. Clark, seemingly well aware of this disparity, wore the smuggest of grins as he patted an empty spot on the bed next to him.
"...don' wanna dipee..." Wes grumbled, resisting Clark's call for the toddler to lay out on the bed and submit to his Pampering. The bigger boy tapped his chin in mock thought as he considered the adorable defiance of the pouty two-year-old.
"Hmm...well, I certainly don't remember having a choice about being put back in diapers..." Clark mused aloud, grin turning devilish as he studied poor widdle Wes. "And come to think of it, I never got you back for that spanking you gave me..."
"Okay! Okay!" Wes squeaked in submission as he hastily laid himself out on the covers. The baby blushed from his nibbleable little toes all the way up to his head of soft goldenrod hair as Clark purposefully slid a crinkly pair of Pampers beneath Wes' bouncy bare bottom. He moved with the same slow, horrible purpose in fetching the bottle of baby powder and sprinkling its contents over the insignificant genitals of the burly cop turned adorable toddler. Wes weathered the worst of the humiliation by snatching up in his pudgy arms the teddy bear that had been Clark's, clamping his eyes shut as he clutched the stuffed animal as tightly to his tiny body as his insignificant strength would allow. He elicited not so much as a peep until Clark's skinny little fingers started spreading the dry, sweet-smelling stuff over his most private and sensitive of parts - which, of course, elicited from Wes the same physical response that had betrayed Clark yesterday.
"This is my first time diapering anybody, so I'm just making sure I'm doing everything right." Clark explained to a whimpering and fuming Wes as the bigger boy teased his infantile erection, as he wrapped it in a thick, soft later of padding that spread Wes' plump thighs apart. The burly cop turned shrimpy boy turned fussy two-year-old reluctantly opened his eyes and shivered at the sight of himself in diapers, swearing in that moment that Nick and Clark would pay for his humiliation the instant Wes regained his manhood. In the meantime, though, Wes found himself fending off Clark's playful offers to carry the toddler into the dining room or at least hold his hand for the loooooong walk over. Wes was determined to get there on his own, almost as determined as he was to not let go of his new friend in the process.
Clark looked on in bemused silence as the toddler carefully wiggled his way off the bed and onto his own two tiny feet, Wes - just as Clark had - needing a long moment to find his diapered center of gravity before even attempting to take a step forward. Unlike Clark, Wes was carrying a little extra weight in the form of the stuffed bear he continued to clutch to his flabby chest even as he proudly marched his crinkly little self out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the kitchen. Whatever pride he felt was dashed, however, when Nick effortlessly spirited Wes off his feet and plopped his diapered tush onto a seat at the table, the two-year-old pouting not only at being picked up without being asked but also at the sound of his seat crinkling beneath him as he considered how far his tiny toes dangled above the floor.
"You never told me how you like your eggs - hope scrambled are okay." Nick grinned as he offered Wes a small plate with a bit of scrambled eggs, some cut-up waffles and green grapes for the toddler to enjoy at his leisure. Still feeling defiant, Wes set the teddy bear aside long enough for him to prove he could feed himself - and though he saw how amused Nick and Clark were at his efforts, he managed to do just that with the assistance of the tiny plastic purple fork stashed in Wes' first. He stabbed vengefully at the fluffy bits of egg and the browned bits of waffle until every bit of both were gone, the two-year-old giving his caretakers a withering look when they praised him for doing such a good job with his num-nums.
"Can you at weast call my chief? Pwease?" Wes asked in stead of their condescending praise. "I wanna still have a job at da end of dis. An' besides, he'll get suspicious if I go too wong without wesponding."
Though Nick and Clark shared a snicker at the toddler's triple lisp, they admitted that he raised a good point - and that Nick (the only one at that moment with an adult voice) would have to be the one to call. Nick agreed to this despite being terrible on the phone, and it was as two-year-old Wes dubiously looked on that the young man used Wes' phone to call the number the toddler had provided him.
"Wes? Where the hell are you?" The gruff voice on the other end immediately demanded.
"Oh, uh, Wes won't be able to come in today..." Nick flustered, caught off guard by the chief's demands. "He's not feeling well and - "
The frenetic edge to the chief's questioning gave way to suspicion.
"I'd like to hear that from Wes himself." The chief insisted. "And I'd also like to know who the hell you are and how you got hold of Wes' phone - "
At that Nick abruptly ended the call and blocked the number, Clark snickering at Nick's ineptitude as Wes went full sarcastic on his captors.
"Naith work Nick, now he'th gonna come and knock my door down wooking for me." Wes huffed. "Thith hath to end now, things are getting way out of contwol!"
"He's got a point." Clark added, worried. "We're gonna get a whole lot of attention a whole lot of fast if they even think we've got a cop held hostage. What are we gonna do, Nick?"
"You gotta twansfah some years to me!" Wes insisted. "We'ww aww in big twouble if da chief comes and doesn't find a grown-up Wes here waiting for him!"
Nick looked between the increasingly impatient face of the toddler and the increasingly panicked one of the preteen as he considered their situation. Can he think of an explanation for Wes' absence that'll satisfy the chief? Or does he, indeed, have to produce a full-grown Wes?