To Jas’s horror, nothing happened. The rebel changed his diaper, muttering about the smell, and set him back on the floor. Jas’s thumb went to his mouth again. The first rebel had said all the diapered royal children were safe and would be unharmed. Perhaps the amulet didn’t work unless Jas was actively in danger. It seemed Jas would need to figure his own way out of the nursery.
Jas got up, deciding to inspect his surroundings. He slowly toddled around the nursery, looking for anything that might be useful in his eventual escape. The Royal Nursery consisted of three separate rooms. One room was for the babies, one was for the toddlers, and the third, which the other two rooms connected to, was a general shared playing area. When the King visited his many offspring, he would do so in the main third room, allowing the nursery staff to bring the children to him.
As Jas wandered around, he felt his bladder let loose again, but ignored it. He would just have to get used to soiling himself. He finished his round without spotting any potential weakness that could be used as an escape route. It made sense, as the Royal Nursery was designed to keep any potential heirs from wandering about the Palace.
Jas’s bowels rumbled in warning. With a sigh, Jas bent his knees into a squat. He began to push, grunting with effort as he pushed yet another log into his diaper. The rebel guard groaned loudly.
“Again?” the rebel asked. Jas could feel his face turning red from both embarrassment and effort. Slowly, the poop exited him. After what felt like years, Jas finished with a loud sigh. He straightened, his diaper sagging under him. He walked to the rebel, his toddle extra hampered due to the load in his diaper.
“I poo-poo,” Jas said. The rebel sighed.
“Yeah. I could tell. Come on, then.” The rebel brought Jas over for another diaper change. This time, the rebel spoke to Jas during the change. “I think I will call you Prince Poopy.”
“I Jas!”
“Your name might be Jas, but your nickname will be Prince Poopy,” the rebel said firmly. “After all, you are a royal whelp who has messed yourself multiple times very quickly.” The rebel ruffled Jas’s hair. “You can call me Uncle Calvin. Or Cal, if that is easier for you to say.”
“Cal,” Jas said experimentally. Cal beamed.
“That is correct, Prince Poopy.” There was a knock at the door. “Come in.” A rebel came in.
“Changing a diaper already, Cal?” the rebel asked.
“This is the second one I have changed for this little guy. But he is so cute, he is beginning to grow on me.” Cal finished changing Jas’s diaper. He picked up the shrunken prince, nestling the toddler boy in his arms. Jas sucked on his thumb happily, proud of himself for managing to win over a rebel so quickly. “What brings you by?” Cal asked the other rebel.
“News of who will be tending to the royal whelps.”
“Whom?” Cal asked.