“Fuck…” Nick mumbled under his breath, the pressure building on him alone to make a decision in the 20 or so minutes that it would take the chief to get to their apartment building.
“Nick,” the diapered cop piped up again, “you haf ta make me gwown-up.”
Turning to Clark for some form of executive decision making, Nick was met with only a worried and bewildered shrug.
“Okay, Wes… Look at me.” Nick leaned down, putting his face squarely in front of the toddler’s. “I need you to get the chief off our backs, so I’m going to give you all the years that Clark and I have to offer.”
Wes’s eyes lit up. Finally, a swift return to manhood!
Nick watched as the toddler turned starry-eyed, daydreaming of his restored independence. “Listen, Wes! Can I trust you to turn Clark and me back? I can only make you 27, leaving both of us 2-years-old, so I need to know that you’ll turn us back. You’ll still need me if you wanna get back to your forties.”
The little boy squirmed in excitement, producing an audible crinkle as he shifted in his seat. Wes knew that Nick had little choice here; he could say he’d play ball, and Nick would be forced to believe him. Despite being the one dressed in only a diaper, he held all the power here.
“I pwomise,” Wes mewed, and that was enough for Nick, who absconded hastily to his bedroom to fetch the gun. Clark leaned on the counter, releasing a sigh.
“Damn… And here I thought I was done with diapers.” Clark reached over to pinch the material of Wes’s infantile garment. “Lucky you, Wes. You better not pull some stupid shit, got it?”
Before Wes could reply, Nick emerged from his room, carrying several different things that they’d soon be needing.
“Wes, I brought out your clothes from when you got here. I imagine they should still fit you even though you won’t be fully back toooo…” Nick paused, expecting an answer from the obviously excited toddler.
Not wanting to listen to his own infantile voice, Wes flashed a four on one hand and a four on the other.
“44. Right,” Nick said, acknowledging the gesture. “I also brought out this hoodie of mine. You’ll want to wear this with the hood up to disguise as much of yourself as you can, since you’ll be 17 years younger.” The boy nodded as Nick set the clothes on the counter beside him.
Nick continued, a bit hesitant in doing so, “Annnnnnddddd, I have the diapers for Clark and me,” he said, setting them down on the counter next to the only resident of the apartment who wouldn’t soon be needing them.
Nick plucked the crinkly little cop up from his chair and placed him on the floor, removing his diaper and exposing the most humiliating aspect of his regression. Instinctively, the little boy cupped his hands in front of himself; neither Nick nor Clark, though, seemed at all interested in teasing him, knowing too well that they’d soon be in the same position.
“Clark, you ready?” Nick asked, knowing that their options were completely limited at this point.
Clark responded, downtrodden and annoyed, “As much as I’m gonna be…”
“Okay,” Nick began, “we’ll do you first then.” Nick stepped back from the two as Clark moved closer to the tiny boy on the floor.
Without delay, Nick initiated the transfer. At this point, both boys were familiar with the sensations that accompanied the age changes, so neither really reacted as their bodies rapidly shifted before them. As Clark shrank, he preemptively removed his Batman tank top, not feeling at all like a big, strong hero in this particular moment and not wanting to be swallowed up by the shirt in his toddlerfied state. Likewise, he stepped out of the boy’s briefs when his body became too small to support them anymore. Next to him, Wes appreciated the feeling of stability in his growing legs, but he was most excited for his complete progression that was to come; though, he wouldn’t complain about being 9-years-old after his brief morning stint back in diapers.
With their transfer complete, Nick wasted no time in picking up Clark, moving him to the couch, and standing himself close to the boy cop who eagerly awaited the transfer.
“I know what I did this morning was shady, Wes.” Nick said solemnly, “but just remember I did it for all of us, not to punish you… or anything like that.”
Then, Nick pulled the trigger. As the only man here who hadn’t yet been forced back into diapers, Nick was a bit anxious, but he had no other choice. The chief had to go, no matter the cost.
Nick scratched at his beard one last time before it receded into his ever-smoothing face. At the same time, Wes observed, with a glint in his eyes, a return to form as his muscles and ample body hair came back to him. Before he knew it, Wes was restored to quite an imposing size, highlighted by his physical fitness that had peaked around this age when he had just started on the force. Of course, he dwindled just a bit through his thirties, but he worked hard enough to maintain his form into his forties, so Nick was right: his clothes should definitely still fit him at this age.
A toddler for the first time in 24 years, Nick inspected himself with scientific curiosity and dismay. He held up the giant boxer-briefs that had just fallen off of him and marveled that they had fit him snugly just seconds ago. The complete and utter material loss of his manhood was emphasized even more so by the gargantuan, and undeniably dashing, man that stood before the two naked little boys, stretching, flexing his muscles, and nonchalantly showing off what had, just seconds ago, been his infantile little nub but was now the very essence of his overly-pronounced masculinity.
Both boys marveled at the man that Wes had become, and Wes took notice of the boys’ starstruck expressions. He walked over to where Clark was seated on the couch, his manhood dangling at eye level for Clark. Although, after yesterday, he was used to seeing Wes being much bigger than him, the difference between a 27-year-old Wes and an 18-year-old Wes was staggering, especially now that Clark could witness the entirety of Wes’s adult physique.
“Don’t worry, little Clarkie,” Wes tousled Clark’s hair, much to his irritation, “I’m sure you’ll grow up big and strong just like me some day.” At this point, Clark felt so disempowered as the grown, capable man before him flaunted his ample endowment right in front of the little boy’s face, which sported an intense and disapproving frown. For his part, Nick couldn’t help but admire Wes’s sculpted form, even as he made a show of further emasculating his regressed roommate.
Wes left the boy alone and proceeded to the counter where Nick had left his clothes. He pulled on the white Fruit of the Loom men’s briefs that he had worn into the apartment about 24 hours ago. Although he was reminded of the several hours he spent as a boy yesterday wearing just a smaller version of the same underwear, Wes could now appreciate the way his adult member and thick, hairy ass filled out the briefs, solidifying his status as a man amongst little boys, regardless of his choice in underwear.
Nick continued with his boyish admiration of the older man from where he sat naked down on the floor. Clark took notice of this, especially as his little roommate seemed to perk up just a bit more when Wes pulled on his underwear. Nick’s admiration of Wes elicited an exaggerated eye roll from Clark, who was stung by a tinge of jealousy and resentment.
Wes, too, apparently noticed the little toddler on the floor gawking up at him. Still in just his underwear, Wes scooped up little Nick and cradled him in just one of his comparatively massive arms. “What’s up, Nicky boy? You want some undies, too?”
Nick was speechless. He felt so profoundly small, and to be so effortlessly picked up and held like this was both so scary and so comforting at the same time. And before either boy knew it, Wes had made his way over to the couch and gathered up the grouchy little guy that had sat there so sullenly.
Now, both boys were held in either of Wes’s arms as he ushered them into Clark’s bedroom, after shuffling over to the counter to grab the diapers.
Carefully, Wes laid out both boys next to each other. The feeling was not unfamiliar to Clark, but his attitude had changed drastically since the last time he let Wes diaper him; now, Clark wanted nothing more than to be a man again, for this to all be over, for Wes to be out of their lives, and for he and Nick to just… play around together… as men! His sexual frustration had been building since Friday night with Nick, and it was only exacerbated by how completely helpless and impotent Wes was trying to make him feel—not to mention that Nick now seemed to fawn over this 27-year-old version of Wes. All he wanted was some release, but his infantile member could do nothing to assuage his pent-up feelings. Instead, all Clark could do was submit to being diapered once more by his horrible neighbor and just hope that this would be over when Wes convinced the chief to leave.
“Alright boys, here ya go,” Wes teased, lifting up their legs one at a time and sliding a fresh diaper underneath each boy’s smooth little butt. He sprinkled baby powder on each of them and then used both of his hands to massage it into each of the boy’s private areas. Both boys couldn’t help but pop a tiny little stiffy as the beefy, briefs-clad man distributed the powder thoroughly; however, the looks on each of their adorable faces couldn’t have differed more. Wes noted how Nick seemed still in awe of his return to toddlerhood, while Clark could do nothing to hide his visceral dissatisfaction this time around.
“What’s the matter, Clarky?” Wes mocked. “Sad that you can’t impress your little boyfriend with this little thing?” Wes took Clark’s baby penis between his thumb and index finger to insultingly give it a light pinch.
Tears started to stream from Clark’s eyes as Wes ate away at what little semblance of masculine ego that Clark had left. Seeing this, Nick was snapped out of his awestruck stupor, and he wanted nothing more than to comfort his friend and shield him from Wes’s unnecessary teasing.
“Weth!” Nick squeaked.
Wes let out an exaggerated breath. “Fine.” And just like that, Wes ceased his assault on Clark’s self-esteem and pulled up the fronts of their diapers before taping them closed. Nick, now, was entirely unconcerned with wearing a diaper for the first time in 24 years and paid no mind to the odd, leg-spreading sensation that befell his lower half. Instead, he reached out his hand to hold that of his poor, emasculated, would-be boyfriend. For some reason, this only seemed to bolster the flow of the boy’s tears, and Nick couldn’t help but feel responsible for this humiliating predicament that Clark found himself in.
“How cute,” Wes taunted. “Alright, you lovebirds, I’m gonna go get dressed and get the chief off our case,” he explained, departing Clark’s bedroom and leaving the door open.
Nick tightened his grip on Clark’s hand, the boy defeated and despondent. He attempted to lighten the mood with some humor. “Wewp, thith ithn’t how I wanted to get you back in bed aftah Fwiday night,” Nick joked, smiling warmly.
Clark remained silent, but he wiped the tears from his eyes and returned a half-smile. To Nick’s delight, Clark rolled onto his side and held Nick’s hand between both of his. The two simply enjoyed each other’s presence before they heard Wes shouting.
“Chief, I’m in here!” He did well to add a sick, raspy quality to his voice, and the coughing at the end of his announcement certainly helped to sell the façade, too. Both boys listened intently to the deep, hearty voices echoing through their apartment.
“Alright, Wes, care to explain who the hell was on the phone earlier and why you didn’t pick up yourself?” the chief grumbled, but Wes was ready.
Hoarsely, he replied, “Sorry, chief, I came down with something really bad last night, and my neighbors had some medicine and food on hand, so I just ended up crashing here. They left to grab some things from the store, but that’s who you heard on the phone.”
“Well,” the chief started, hesitantly, “I suppose you were probably knocked out on sleeping meds when I called this morning, and you were probably too sick to call in, huh?”
“Yeah, apologies, chief. I think I’m gonna need a few days or so to fully recover. Could you ask Hawthorne if she could cover for me?” Wes pleaded, in a tone that had Nick and Clark nearly convinced that the man was actually sick.
The chief rebuked this request sternly. “Hawthorne?! She’s way too soft on those inner-city kids! Someone’s gotta put ‘em in their place, Wes, and it’s not gonna be her.”
Wes stood awkwardly, unsure of how to respond, careful not to face the chief too directly, his hood concealing his youthful glow.
“With respect, sir, they’re just kids,” Wes managed to bark out between a few artificial coughs.
“And damn them all!” the chief hollered. “Those little fuckers give us no end—” but his tirade was cut off.
“Fine! Call Anderson, then!” Wes annoyedly suggested, his attitude on this matter clearly in stark contrast to the chief’s.
The chief huffed but took Wes’s suggestion. “Good call. That’s a man who’ll get shit done.”
“…Great,” Wes replied in a hoarse, unenthused monotone.
“I’m 55-years-old, Wes. I don’t have time to put up with bullshit from those trash inner-city hooligans,” explained the chief.
“Alright,” Wes said eagerly, “are we done here?”
“I suppose so,” the older man responded. “I’ll be seeing you in a few days or whenever you’re feeling better.”
The diapered tots on Clark’s bed listened as the older voice seemed to depart without having ever suspected Wes of being younger than 44.
After a moment, Wes returned to Clark’s bedroom, having removed the hoodie and now adorning the same outfit that he had showed up in yesterday morning.
Wes noticed the miniature embrace that his two diapered neighbors shared, and he laughed to himself at the futility of such infantile intimacy. It would only serve to further frustrate them, inevitably, Wes knew.
He approached the bed and stood, hands on his hips, facing the boys, who were now sitting up, still holding hands.
“Okay, boys, so here’s the thing,” Wes began, and neither boy liked the tone that implied where this sentence was leading. “I don’t have to go back to work for a few days or so, and honestly, I’m not sure if I even want to.” Hearing this, Nick gulped audibly and squeezed Clark’s hand.
Wes continued, “Chief’s a real fucker. Not sure if you heard that little exchange out there, but the man’s a goddamn racist son of a bitch. Also, not fun to work for. I’ve just looked past it all these years… because it’s a good job… I’m fed up now, though… The point is, boys, that I’m feeling pretty good at 27 right now. I’m not so sure if I even need to get back to 44—if I even need your gun to be fixed.”
Nick let go of Clark’s hand and pounded his fists into the comforter, shouting up at the imposing figure, “No!! You hafta make us big again!”
Wes pointed a firm finger at the indignant boy’s insolent display and countered firmly, “Well, little Nicky, from where I’m standing, I don’t have to take orders from the guys who put me back in diapers this morning, who are, themselves, now in diapers.”
Nick sunk back down and scooted closer to Clark, who proceeded to hold his fearful roommate. Clark, himself, took the opportunity to appear tough in front of Nick, demanding, “Teww uth what you want Weth!”
Wes crossed his arms, his stature asserting his authority over the two. “Okay, tough guy. I want just a little bit of payback for the shitshow age-fuckery that you two dragged me into this weekend. I don’t plan on hurting you, but just seeing you so frustrated—especially you, Clark—is enough for me, so how about we all just hang out for the next however many days, with you two stuck in diapers, and do whatever I feel like.”
The boys looked at each other in horror, realizing that they were at the full mercy of this man who had every reason to wish them ill.
“I’m not a monster, though, boys. I don’t plan to keep you in diapers for the rest of your lives, but I also don’t think we need to fix the gun to solve everyone’s problems. I’ve got a little idea concerning the chief that could benefit all of us, but that’s for later. What to do right now?”