Wes leaned his menacing face in, right up in front of Clark’s, whispering, “Pick. Or else.”
Clark could only keep up his bravado for so long, so before he ran out of the courage to do so, he leaned forward further into the big man’s face and spat, “Fuck. You. Weth.”
Without hesitation, Wes forcefully removed the boy from the shopping cart seat and brought him to a nearby dressing room where he could make use of the benches. Nick was helpless to do anything but wait patiently for Clark’s punishment to end, feeling horribly remorseful for having even humored the idea of using the gun for the stupid science fair, which he wouldn’t even get to compete in anymore.
Inside the dressing room, Wes had Clark over his lap, but the toddler fought with all of his strength, kicking and biting and relishing this small opportunity to unleash all of his pent-up rage from this body that was too tiny to contain it all.
“Clarky boy,” Wes cooed, unphased by Clark’s futile and pathetic assault, “the more you keep resisting, the worse this is going to hurt. Understand?”
At this point, even if Clark wanted to stop, he was too furious to control himself, and the barrage of tiny hits and high-pitched wailing continued.
What finally got Clark to cease his attacks was the first hit on his diapered bottom. Despite having a layer of cushion between Wes’s huge hand and his little baby butt, the pain was nonetheless quite potent, owing both to Clark’s diminished pain tolerance as a toddler and Wes’s precise, forceful blows. It took 8 consecutive hits before Clark finally gave in to the urge to cry, and he fully gave in, producing a terrible cacophony of infantile hollering and soaking Wes’s pant leg in a flood of tears. Wes, though, did not let up.
Through his onslaught of spanks, he spoke in a sinister tone that indicated his immense satisfaction in this moment, “Sorry, Clarky! No Nick to save you this time!”
This reminder of his helpless situation served to augment the intensity of Clark’s tantrum, his bawling echoing through the dressing room and beyond. Nick was filled with so much dread in that moment, so much dread and fear that perhaps Wes would, in fact, keep them like this forever, bound under his will and unable to ever experience the pleasures of adulthood ever again. Unconsciously, Nick began to wet his diaper, the nerves having suppressed his conscious effort to use the garment as little as humanly possible.
Back in the dressing room, Wes provided the wailing toddler with a brief respite and sat him up on his brawny thigh. “Look at me, Clarky,” the man demanded. Clark obliged, gazing up at his muscular captor with a face puffy and red from his ceaseless fit of crying.
“You might be asking yourself how I know you won’t retaliate when I let you grow up again. Well… I’m keeping the gun, Clarky boy,” Wes teased, but Clark knew he was entirely serious. “I can’t trust either of you not to use it on me again, so the only way I can guarantee my own safety is by taking it away from you both.” Wes laughed, “I mean, who better to hold onto such a thing than a noble protector of the law? Wouldn’t you agree?”
Realizing his total defeat in this moment and fearing further blows by Wes’s enormous hand, Clark simply nodded his little head in affirmation.
“Good little baby boy! And since I’ll have the gun, I think you know what that means about your little smoking habit and the loud parties you like to have. Do you catch my drift, sweet boy?” Wes asked, further demeaning his regressed and powerless neighbor.
Again, Clark nodded, trying his best to keep from crying but not doing a terribly good job.
Apparently satisfied with Clark’s participation thus far, Wes shifted the boy to a position so that he was cradled in one of his hairy arms. “So, Clarky, remember this: when I graciously give you back your manhood in X days’ time, know that I can take it away just as easily.” Wes was cupping the front of Clark’s diaper, seemingly to drive his point home. “When you’re standing in front of the toilet taking a piss, just remember that daddy Wes was the one who let you do that; daddy Wes was the one who freed you from a lifetime of wetting your little diapers. Oh, and when you’re feelin’ like a big, sexy man fucking your beloved Nick, just think of daddy Wes and how he let you do that, too, how he granted you the privilege to cum.” Wes’s threats struck a deep fear in little baby Clark, as he looked upon the man in tear-filled silence.
“You know what?! Even more than that, every time you walk, just remember that daddy Wes is the one who released you from a lifetime of toddling with your chubby little legs spread apart by your little diaper… Got it, Clark?” It was clear now that Wes was speaking directly to the adult man trapped inside this adorable little boy.
Clark gulped. “Mmmhmmm.”
“Good boy. I don’t think little Nicky needs any reminders like you do. He’s a smart little boy, so maybe we should look up to him as an example, hmmm? Let’s go see how he’s doing,” and Wes stood up, Clark still cradled in his massive arm, and exited the dressing room.