Marshall woke up in the nursery to sunshine on his face. He sat up and yawned, stretching. Somehow, his diaper was still dry and clean. He definitely needed to go, though. Marshall stood, getting ready to climb down from the crib. However, he couldn’t do it. His body wouldn’t move.
After initially panicking, Marshall decided to experiment. He could move without any restrictions (other than those that came with being a toddler), until he tried to get out of the crib. For some reason, he was stuck in the crib, unable to leave on his own. Panic began to build again. No one would check the nursery for him! What was he going to do? He hurriedly shoved his thumb into his mouth to suckle on it for comfort.
Though Marshall was able to keep his diaper dry for a much longer time than the night before, he couldn’t hold it in forever, and eventually caved in. He bent his knees into a squat and pushed, flooding his diaper with pee. He bent his knees a little bit more and pushed harder, grunting. Slowly, a thick log entered his diaper. Using his diaper felt wrong, somehow. Last night, it had come so naturally he hadn’t even thought about it. But now, he was having to force himself to use it, like he was overriding potty training. What was going on?
His bowels and bladder emptied, Marshall sat back down in the crib, sucking on his thumb, hoping for someone to rescue him. After what felt like ages, he heard voices in the hall. He pulled his thumb out of his mouth.
“Hewp!” he called at the top of his lungs. The door to the nursery opened, revealing Christine and Rusty. “Cwithine! Wuthy!”
“Wait…Marcia?” Rusty asked. Christine walked over to the crib and picked Marshall up.
“I think he’s Marshall right now,” she informed him. “This nursery’s full of cursed items. It looks like Marcia put on some boy clothes, and that would have turned her into a boy.” Marshall nodded. “Why did you put on toddler clothes in the first place?”
“Tuwned wittew by a banthee.”
“Weird,” Rusty muttered. He wrinkled his nose. “Marcia- Marshall, did you mess yourself?”
“Couldn’t hewp it! I wath twapped!” Marshall whined. Christine looked down at the crib.
“Oh, I see. Those blankets are cursed, too. They’re supposed to make any toddler or baby be perfectly behaved. No temper tantrums, no waking up in the middle of the night, even improves potty training.” Marshall’s eyes widened. Those blankets must have been why he woke up in a clean diaper and had to try so hard to use it.
“So Marshall was trapped because the blankets cursed him to be on his best behavior?” Rusty asked. Christine nodded, carrying Marshall over to the changing table.
“Yes. A well-behaved little boy wouldn’t leave his crib.” She laid Marshall on his back and removed his clothes, then his soiled diaper. “Since the blanket improved your potty training, I think you can get by with training pants during the day, little man.” Marshall wanted to say something, but found himself staying completely still, not even squirming when Christine wiped him down with cold baby wipes.
After what felt like forever, Marshall was dressed in training pants and, to his surprise, slacks and a polo shirt.
“What now?” Marshall asked. Christine smiled at him. She popped a pacifier into his mouth. Marshall obediently suckled on it.
“Well-behaved little boys are quiet, only speaking when spoken to,” Christine said. Marshall nodded, still sucking on the pacifier. He knew without a doubt that he now would be unable to say anything unless someone spoke to him first. Christine looked at Rusty. “Since Marshall will now be perfectly behaved no matter what, I think he should…”