“We’re just going to make the chief a baby and get you two back to your original ages,” Wes explained. “Just to confirm, how old are the two of you originally?”
“Twenny-eight,” Nick replied, holding up eight stubby little fingers to emphasize the latter half of his age
“And I’m one yeuh olduh!” Clark shouted, overly enthusiastic about his original age advantage over the other toddler.
Wes looked up at the ceiling and pulled some fingers back and forth to keep track of numbers. “Okay, soooo… the chief is 55, which means…” The cop paused once more before completing his mental calculations! “Got it! So, if we get you both back to 28 and 29, then the chief will be 2, but he could still be a problem at that age, so maybe we make him 1, leaving me to take the extra year?”
Nick raised a chubby hand to comment, “Weth, wait. You wook too young still. I don’t fink you could wealwy wite dat off. People will wonduh what happened.”
Wes grabbed his phone off the kitchen counter and opened the front-facing camera to inspect himself. He turned his face ever so slightly and massaged the stubble on his face with his other hand. After a thorough inspection, he frowned. “Damn... You’re right, Nick. I hadn’t thought too much about that, honestly. I mean, I’m fine with being 27, but I guess you’re right. I couldn’t just say it was any sort of cosmetic surgery… Shit…”
The three contemplated how to solve this dilemma, when an obvious solution popped into Clark’s mind.
“Guyth, I fink I know what to do! Nick, ah you okay not bein exactwy twenny-eight again? I can sacwifice a few yeuhs fuh Weth ta get cwoser to wheuh he could beweivabwy say he got some fancy skin tweatment,” the toddler explained.
Nick’s face lit up, as Clark’s suggestion had revealed an assumption that all 3 of the men had been incorrectly making. “Cwark, das a good idea! But we didn’t fink about da fact dat I can fix da gun when I’m olduh! It won’t be too difficult, and Weth can hang out fuh a wittle bit while I take da day to fix it.”
Wes clapped his hands together, “Perfect! Good thinking, boys, and if I may add another suggestion to this solution; Nick, would you be able to make it so the chief either forgets his original life or make him a baby permanently? We really can’t afford to let him grow up and start blabbing our secret to anyone, or we’d all three go to prison. I’d offer to just hold on to him while he grows up, but there’s a reason I only wanted to be a temporary father for you both. Full-time parenting isn’t a commitment I’m ready to make.”
The little scientist’s brow furled as he pondered the feasibility of his burly neighbor’s request. He finally piped up, “No pwomises, but I fink I can make somefing work! Obviouswy, you’ll need to keep him while I take a day to add dat abiwity to da gun.”
“Thanks, buddy!” Wes exclaimed, ecstatic that they had finally come to a resolution to all of their problems. “Now, let’s get you two in position…”
…
A slow, heavy knock rapped at the front door. Wes paused for a brief moment before opening it so as not to reveal that he had been standing right next to the door the whole time.
“Hey, Chief, come on in for a minute!” Wes greeted the older man, hoping desperately that he wasn’t in any sort of rush that would disincentivize his entrance into the unfamiliar apartment.
The chief helped himself through the doorway, “Thanks, Wes. Care ta make me a coffee?”
“Absolutely, sir,” Wes promptly and dutifully replied. “If you could just hang out on the couch, my sister dropped my nephews off.”
While Wes made his way to the kitchen, the chief turned to the couch, where two adorable little boys, dressed only in their diapers, sat on either end of the couch. “Ohhh, how’d you know I like babies so damn much!” the chief said to Wes, as he found his way to the couch cushion in between the two diapered tots.
“Hey, little guys!” the chief cooed. “What are your names? How old are you?”
“Twenny-eight! I’m twenny-eight!” Nick squeaked, grabbing the man’s attention while Clark, who was now out of the man’s sight, positioned the gun, aiming at himself, with the interface as Wes had preset it to be. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger, starting the exchange with the person closest to him.
The chief found it all too charming that the diapered tyke before him claimed to be so ludicrously old. “Well, now! You can’t be twenty-eight, mister! You’re just a little baby boy! And you’re still in diapers! Yes, you are,” he corrected, pinching Nick’s cheeks. He was so absorbed in his fawning over the little guy that he failed to realize his age was rapidly plummeting, making him, in fact, 28.
Nick leaned into his adorable charade and continued to insist on his impossible age, hoping to keep the chief’s attention for just a moment longer while Clark adjusted the gun’s interface to be ready for its next exchange.
By this point, the chief’s clothes were a bit looser, seeing as he had lost a substantial portion of his beer belly, and Clark had grown out of his diaper and was now sitting on the couch behind the chief, fully nude. He had only taken a split second to admire his restored musculature and manhood before fiddling with Nick’s invention as quietly as he could. It only took him a few seconds before the gun’s interface was adjusted to age Nick back up to 28, and with the gun aimed at his toddler boyfriend, the trigger was pulled.
Suddenly, the baby boy that the chief now held in his arms began to feel much heavier. Not long after this inexplicable weight gain, the baby grew too big for his diaper, and the chief was utterly baffled as hurriedly set the growing boy back down on the couch. It didn’t take long for the chief to realize that the baby was getting older, and he soon took notice that the boy’s body hair was coming in as he entered puberty. With a cracking voice, the chief yelled for his subordinate, “Wes! Wes, what the hell is going on here!? What in God’s name is happening!?”
“I’m glad you like babies, chief, cuz you’re about to be one for a very long time, I’d wager.” Wes replied haughtily from the kitchen, still in the process of making coffee.
The chief scrambled to his feet; though, his height was rapidly dwindling, and he discovered that his eye level was now lower than when he was sitting on the couch. His shrinking head turned frantically, searching for a way out. He was shocked to discover that in the place of the other diapered little boy that he had not gotten a chance to talk to, was a tall, imposing man, having traded the diaper for a pair of red, plaid boxers. The man in the boxers bent down to the chief’s level, helping him discard his oversized clothes. At this point, the transformation had been completed, and the 2-year-old chief was swooped up by the boxer-clad man and set back onto the couch. The chief, still in paralyzing shock, looked down at his new form, noticing instantly the tiny nub that protruded innocently between his hairless, chubby legs. He looked up from his depressing new body to observe that the other baby had also grown up and had upgraded from a diaper to a pair of black boxer-briefs, while sporting a beard to boot.
“Wa---Wa you do ta me?” the miniaturized chief squeaked as he held up his plump, little hands for inspection, still in disbelief that his own body could be so incredibly soft and smooth.
Wes walked over to where all the commotion was taking place, two mugs of hot coffee in his hands. “Well, chief,” he began, handing a mug to both the other men. “We just got a power-hungry racist off the streets. That’s what we did to you. And what I’m about to do to you isn’t going to make you any happier.”
The big man knelt down to reach for something under the couch right where the chief sat. After a moment, he produced a white object that the chief couldn’t immediately place. It wasn’t until Wes unfolded the object that its identity and purpose became readily apparent.
“No, Wes!! You can’t do dis!! I’m youh boss!!” the toddler chief flailed and whined in a pathetic bid to delay his diapering at the hands of his subordinate officer.
Wes turned back to his half-naked neighbors, “I’ll take him over to my place, guys. Give you both some peace and quiet for a while. You definitely don’t want this little fucker around screaming while you’re trying to fix the gun.”
Nick returned an appreciative smile, taking a sip from his coffee. “Thanks, Wes. Check back at the end of today. All the preparations should be complete.”
Wes nodded, and with that, the tiny chief was scooped up, along with a bag of baby supplies that the men had preemptively planted behind the couch, and Wes closed the door to return to his apartment across the hall.
At last, the roommates were afforded their long-awaited, well-earned adult privacy. Without saying a word, both men set their mugs onto the coffee table; the man in boxers, whose smooth face, slightly taller frame, and musculature stood out as unique from that of the bearded man’s leaner body, held the fuzzy cheeks of the other man’s face and leaned in to kiss him. For the man in boxer-briefs, this was well-received, and he wrapped his arms around the bigger man, bringing their bodies into a tight union. As the two made out, each felt the other’s penis stiffen through their underwear’s fabric, and Clark was the first to reach down to take hold of the other’s member. Nick similarly snuck a hand into Clark’s boxers to massage his larger dick, but he stopped not long after, retracting his hand and removing Clark’s from his underwear.
Clark brought his hands, once more, up to Nick’s face. “What’s wrong, babe?” he worriedly pried, as his thumbs gently glided atop Nick’s beard.
“Nothing!” Nick hurriedly blurted, wanting to affirm the actions of his lover. “In fact, this is great. Sublime, really! I just---I think we should hold off for a second… Until I fix the gun, that is. Ya know?... Then it’ll feel like we’ve really earned it or something!”
The taller man laughed. “Maannn, you would be thinking about fixing the gun right now! Hahaaa, shit dude, alright. You go be an adorable nerd for the rest of the day, and I’ll grab a few things from the store; how’s that?”
Nick smiled and proceeded to hold the muscular man’s smooth face and bring his beautiful, chiseled jaw down for a kiss. “Thanks, Clark,” he uttered, pressing his forehead into his.
The lovers exchanged farewells as they each went off to their own business.
…
Owing to his restored concentration at his older age, 28-year-old Nick was finally able to sort out the strange exchange issue with the gun in the very same day that his manhood was restored to him. As well, he implemented an easy-to-use feature that allowed the gun’s user to artificially restrict cell growth beyond what is necessary for daily maintenance of the target’s homeostatic baselines. Simply stated, a new button on the gun’s screen could render a target’s changes permanent, at least until they received another blast from the gun.
That same night, Wes brought over the chief for another treatment with Nick’s gun. After talking it over, they agreed that the chief should be brought down in age, leaving him unable to speak and potentially divulge their secret. Having overheard this conversation, the chief adorably protested, but his cries could do little to stop his further descent into perpetual babyhood. Perhaps a merciful Wes would someday decide to visit this poor baby boy, doomed to a lifetime in diapers, at the home where he would eventually end up, administering a discrete blast of the gun to allow the boy to grow up naturally… Perhaps… but maybe only after a decade in diapers, the two adults decided, laughing as the infant chief bawled inconsolably.
Before he left with the even younger chief, Wes requested that his age be restored, but only up to 36, where he could reasonably lie and say he’d been adhering to a new skincare regiment that augmented his youthful glow. Nick was happy to oblige, pulling the trigger and adding back that extra layer of maturity that would allow Wes to carry on in his daily life without rousing suspicion. Finally, the two men shared a firm handshake, emblematic of the bond they’d forged in their shared (and diapered) hardship.
…
Later that evening, after Wes had left and Clark had returned from the store with some groceries and Chinese take-out, Nick was tinkering with another project at the workbench in his room.
His focus was broken when he heard his door creak open across the room. He nearly dropped his screwdriver at the emerging sight of what greeted him from behind the door.
Nick tried to stifle a laugh, but he was too surprised to completely keep himself from chuckling. “Dude, what are you even doing?!”
“A bet’s a bet, man,” Clark humbly announced, dressed only in a pair of white men’s briefs.
Nick scrunched his brow, “Haha, dude, what are you talking about?”
“Oh come on!” Clark threw his hands up in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t tell me you forgot about our little competition the first night we were kids… and the bet we made, and how I lost and blah blah blah…”
“You know, I totally would’ve forgotten, but you just had to go and remind me!” Nick asserted smugly.
Clark crossed his arms indignantly, blushing slightly, “Yeah, well whatever… I was gonna get ‘em for you anyways since you nearly busted a nut in your diaper every time you saw Wes wearing ‘em, so you’re welcome… I guess.”
Nick offered up a warm smile, rising from his spot at the workbench and moving to Clark at the door. He now held the nearly naked man’s face in his hands, weathered from his constant toiling at the workbench. “You’re so sweet, you know that? I don’t really care about our stupid bet anymore. I’m just glad we finally get this time to ourselves, as men.”
Before he could respond, Nick’s lips were pressed against his own, and Clark closed his eyes to truly savor the moment. He felt Nick’s hands descend down his back until they reached his firm, shapely ass, squeezing it to bring the man even closer. Their kiss sustained as Nick brought one hand forward to Clark’s crotch, further stirring to life his restored manhood as he massaged it through the briefs. It wasn’t long before Clark knew he needed more, which he signaled by picking Nick up and placing him on the bed, before stripping him of his shirt, jeans, and then his boxer-briefs. Nick moaned in long-awaited ecstasy as Clark sucked the days-worth of sexual frustration right out of him. Following suit, Nick latched onto Clark’s sturdy frame and swung him down onto the bed, trading positions. He pulled down his strapping roommate’s tighty whities and made him feel every inch of the impressive, enviable man that he was.
With both men so entirely satisfied after such an exhausting and sexually ungratifying weekend, the two passed out next to each other right there on Nick’s bed.
…
Nick awoke slowly, as a hard sensation on his ass began to develop. He sluggishly observed his surroundings, finding that he and Clark had both managed to put their underwear back on before crashing last night. Moreover, counter to their bedtime positions as boys just a few nights ago, Nick now found himself to be Clark’s little spoon, with Clark unconsciously grinding his morning wood into Nick. The slumbering man next to him, in his white Fruit of the Looms, was just as handsome as he was cute when sleeping as just a 2-year-old in an equally white diaper.
He planted a kiss on the man’s forehead, hoping to rouse him gently and tenderly from his sleep. As if on cue, Clark’s eyes opened to meet those of his loving roommate. In his low, gravelly sleepy voice, Clark greeted the man, “Morning, cutie.”
“Good morning, my handsome man.” Nick dotingly replied, running his fingers through Clark’s thick, dark hair.
“Last night was great, babe,” Clark mumbled, still emerging from his sleepy stupor. “Maybe I should wear these full-time if it gets you that horned up.”
Nick continued to massage his drowsy boyfriend’s head and responded, “Well, you wouldn’t get any complaints from me, but if you were really serious about regressing every so often for Wes to play daddy, then you should probably savor the moments where you’re actually old enough for boxers.”
“Yeah, good point,” the sleepy man replied. “And I was serious, by the way. I think it’d be good for the both of us to spend some time not worrying about adult life.”
Nick nodded affirmatively.
“Plus,” Clark went on, “I think Wes really needs it. He’s a good guy, and he just wants to take care of people at the end of the day.”
“I’m still shocked that you two made it out of this closer than before. I mean, you’ve got two really macho guys like yourselves, who just about completely hated each other, and now you’re all like, ‘Hey, daddy, change my diapers!’ Like how weird is that?” Nick pointed out.
“It’s not about the diapers, man!” Clark argued. “It just… I mean we talked about this the other night, when we were in bed together, as boys. I love being there to protect you, dude, like I always have. I like that I can feel like I’m taking care of you and defending you and shit.”
“I know you do.” Nick said, exchanging a kiss with the man.
“But sometimes, it’s just kinda nice to flip the script, ya know?... I think you get it.” Clark said, now sounding more lucid.
“I do,” Nick assured him. “For now, though, it’s back to jobs and bills and errands.”
Clark grumpily hid his face under one of Nick’s pillows. He grumbled through the feathery softness, “Ugggghhhh, don’t remiiiind meeee!”
“Oh, you’ll live!” Nick comforted his roommate and removed the pillow from his face. “Besides, it’s really not all bad.” Nick used his fingers as he listed off some benefits of maturity. “You get sex, working out, eating whatever you want, driving, consumption of substances and what have you… See my point? You’ll miss all that stuff after a weekend of running around in your Spiderman underoos or getting your diapers changed by Wes.”
“Fair point.” Clark agreed. “We should probably plan ahead with Wes about when we wanna do our first weekend with him. And we should also probably stock up on clothes and supplies for a range of ages, just so we got options.”
Nick nodded. “We’ll shop together, so there aren’t any surprises this time, got it?”
“Whatever you say man,” Clark chuckled. “Now, how do we want next weekend to go?”