The part list
Add part 2 here.Bryson stared at the screen, running his fingers through his thick red hair. It was soaked with sweat. How long had he been doing this?
He looked over at the clock on his desk and moaned. It was almost three am, and he still hadn’t finished editing his paper! He looked back at the screen and started scrolling and typing as fast as he could. How could there be so many mistakes? Spelling error after spelling error… It was like he hadn’t even passed high school! God, if only he hadn’t left it until the last minute.
Well, he told himself, he kind of had to. He had been working, trying to pay off the bills for university. He had to move all his stuff into his new room, do his readings, aattend classes. Just thinking about it almost made him sick to his stomach.
Except that that wasn’t really true. He had also attended his fair share of party. He didn’t really enjoy them so much, he kind of just stood around watching others drink, but he was hoping to meet people. He had also spent MORE then his fair share of time playing video games. Really, he could have started this days ago.
He sighed, and looked at his paper. He guess that would have to do. He had class in a few hours, and hadn’t slept much the night before either, having spent his time online. His roommate was already asleep. He emailed it to himself for printing, and turned off the computer.
He got undressed, setting his glasses down on the desk and his black shirt and jeans on the chair. He lay down and stared out the window, seeing the stars filling the sky. He was exhausted, but the anxiety and stress kept him up. God, wouldn’t it be better if he could live without all this stress? Couldn’t there be a world where he didn’t have to worry about it? He looked at one of the stars, wishing and hoping beyond hope that somehow it would all work out. A silly thought, he knew. Wishing on stars never worked. But it was comforting to think that somehow it would make a difference, leading him to a stress free life. Slowly, he closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep.
Bryson woke up to the feeling of someone shaking him.
“Hey, Bryson. Get up. Bryson, hey, come on,” a voice said.
Bryon opened his eyes to see Mark, his roommate, staring down at him. Mark was a tall, broad shouldered man his own age, with brown haired and brown eyes. He was always dressed very maturely, with a collared shirt on…. Wait, was he always that tall?
Bryson sat up and looked at him. No, Mark wasn’t any taller. Everything in the room was proportional. Yet, somehow, he just seemd more…
“You know you’re going to be late, right?” Mark asked.
Bryson snapped out of his daze and looked at his clock. “#*$@!” he shouted. It was 8:25, his class started at 8:30. He realized he had forgot to start the alarm. Mark must have got up for a later class and noticed he was still asleep.
“Thanks!” he shouted at Mark, who watched with a disappointed look on his face. Bryson grabbed his clothes, all black jeans with a chain and a t-shirt, and pulled them on quickly.
“Are you sure you really want to go for the gothic look? It really isn’t very mature… Between being late and that, you’re kind of asking for it,” Mark said, in a tone like he was warning someone who he knew wouldn’t listen.
“Yes, and don’t tell me what to do!” Bryson snapped, irritated. Normally he wasn’t that angry, but the exhaustion and rush made him upset. “Wait… asking for what?”
Mark sighed and shurged, then watched him leave.
Bryson looked at his watch and began to run. It was 8:32, he was already late. Papers were handed in at thee beginning of class… “#*&$! THE PAPER!” He had forgotten to print it off. He changed direction and began to run toward the library, where there were printers for student use. It was across campus, and he wasn’t sure if he would make it.
Finally, he arrived, and slowed to a walk. He stopped for a moment. Goth cloths weren't designed for running, especially in the summer. Finally he continued into the library, a large brown building designed with odd looping shapes and angled rooms.
He walked past crowds of students rushing to get to computer desks or book shelves. Did the people in the library seem different? They all seemed to be a bit older. He looked closely. There was John, Sarah, Michael… No, they all looked the same. They just seemed somehow more mature. They stared at him with disappointment in their eyes. Why did he keep seeing that look?
He reached one of the computers and turned it on. Did it always take this long to load? He got on, logged onto his student name, found the email and printed it off. Then he was out again, running toward the class.
He finally arrived at the class just as it was ending. People filtered out of the hall, and he squirmed by them. They all had that same look on their faces, somehow more mature, looking at him with disappointment and, he noticed, something else. Was that adoration? Something like looking at a puppy or someone much younger.
He finally made it into the class room, a large auditorium with grey walls and chairs seemingly designed to make any class as boring as possible. The professor, a white haired and bearded man in the usual tweed jacket was at the desk at the front, filing papers. Bryson ran down the steps toward him.
“Uhhh… Hello Mr... I mean Dr. Livingstone,” Bryson said nervously.
He looked up and stared a Bryson with spectacles eyes. “Ahh yes, Bryson is it? Late again? I assume that is your paper.” He pointed at the sheets in Bryson’s hands.
“Oh! Yes! I was going to give it to you! I.. uhh… “ Bryson stared at the papers. They had become rumpled as he ran, and even picked up dirt. “I’m sorry. I missed my alarm..”
“I don’t want your excuses Bryson,” the professor sighed, taking the papers. He looked through them carefully. “Did you edit this? Look, you misspelled “literacy” in the first paragraph! This is full of mistakes!”
Bryson hung his head. “I did, I was just tiered.”
“Mhhmm. Let me ask you something Bryson. Have you been doing this sort of thing in other classes?”
“Ummm... no,” Bryson said, his heart jumping as he lied. He had been, but he didn't want to professor to know.
The professor looked at him with raised eyebrows. “Yes, you have. I know, I had heard the stories. Do you really think that this is the sort of thing an adult should be wearing?” he pointed at Bryson’s torn jeans and shirt.
“Uhh… No, I guess not,” Bryson said, blushing.
“They aren’t. Most people give up on those 'looks' in high school. You are in university now, you should be beyond that. Now I have one final question. Did you shave this morning?”
“What?” Bryson was taking aback by the strange question. He realized he had forgotten. “No I didn’t have time,” he said. He ran his hand along his chin, expecting to find stubble. He was surprised to find himself clean shaven.
“That’s what I though. Listen, you might want to reconsider your behavior. This level of immaturity never works out well. I’ve seen several students go through it, and almost always end up… Well, I’m sure you can see where this is going, can’t you?”
“Yes,” Bryson said, hearing the implied threat of failing university.
“Good, then let’s not have a repeat, alright?”
“Yes sir,” Bryson said, and left. What was that all about? And why the question about shaving? Bryson felt his face again. Why was there no stubble?
Bryson headed back, still thinking about what was said. How dare he? Criticize his clothes, threaten him with failure, he… “AWWW nooo…” Bryson said, suddenly remembering that he had another paper do in the next class. He had forgotten completely! He ran toward the class, trying to think of some kind of excuse.
He finally arrived, 10 minutes late this time, and walked in. The auditorium, almost identical to the last, was full of students. He tried to make as little as noise as possible as he found an empty seat. He noticed the students around him. Did they seem even taller than the other ones had earlier? How? What was going on? Several of the other students giggled as he passed, two of them ruffled his hair. One even patted his bum! What was going on?
He finally sat down and watched the class. The professor, a dark haired woman in her mid-thirties, droned on and on. Bryson felt himself getting drowsy. All those nights with almost no sleep were catching up to him. He began to waver, and…
Students were leaving. He could hear them. He sat up, realizing he had fallen asleep during the class. No one had woken him, leaving him in a puddle of his own droll. How embarrassing! Except, none of them seemed upset. Most looked at them like they were looking at a puppy and giggled as he frantically stood up. A few others ruffled his hair again, and he heard people awwwwing behind him. Seriously, what was going on?
“Bryson, can I speak to you for a moment?” the professor said.
“Yes! One second!” Bryson replied. He struggled through the crowds, stumbling along the steps. His legs felt clumsier somehow, and he almost tripped twice. Must be the exhaustion, he thought. Finally, a blond haired girl he didn’t know grabbed his shoulder and lead him down. Despite being embarrassed, he nodded his thanks.
He stood in front of the professor’s desk. She sat in her chair, looking at him seriously.
“Hello Bryson, how are you?” She asked, smiling.
“Ummm…. I’m fine Miss.. uh Dr… Dr…” Bryson stumbled, he had forgotten her name.
“Dr. Harrison, but that is ok. Am I correct in assuming you forgot your paper?” she said, still speaking in a high pitched, cheery voice.
“EEK YES DR HARRISON! I’M SO SORRY I…!”
She cut him off. “Don’t worry about it. Its ok Bryson. Now, have you been noticing anything different?”
“Well I uhhh…”
“I think you have. Other people have noticed it as well. Listen Bryson, I don't want to upset you. I know there are a lot of stresses going on in your life right now, and I don't blame you for it all. But I have to ask, do you really think you are cut out to be an adult?”
“WHAT! What do you mean!? Of course I am! What?!” what could she be talking about? With all that had been going on, somehow people looking more mature, treating him like a child… what could she mean?
“I think you know what I mean. I saw those students ruffling your hair, and how you reacted. I don’t think you are going to last much longer, do you? I’ve seen more then enough students going through this to recognize the signs.”
She sighed. “Arlight, I see this is going to be tough. Come with me.” She stood up, grabbed Bryson’s hand, and led him out of the classroom through a side door. Bryson followed her, embarrassed to be lead like a child.
She lead him into the female staff bathroom. Bryson struggled a bit at the door, but found himself being overpowered. “Don’t be silly,” she said.
She lead him then turned to face him with her hands on his shoulders. "Now, I don't want you to be upset, ok? This may be shocking to you, but its alright. There is no reason to be nervous."
"Wha...aat?" Bryson asked.
"Here, look at yourself in the mirror," still blushing, to face the mirror. “Now, what do you see?”
Bryson looked at himself and gawk. Was that really him? He looked completely different! The face that stared back at him seemed like it belonged to a toddler, if that.
Except… it wasn’t. There was no real change. He stared at all the details, his nose, his red hair, his freckles, his green eyes, the shape of his face… They were all the same. It was just like the other students who suddenly appeared older and bigger without really changing, except he was suddenly younger without changing. “How…” he whispered.
“Oh we both know that. You are far too immature, and your body is reacting accordingly. Don’t worry, not everyone can make it as an adult. There is nothing wrong with this, and no reason to be worried. No one is going to be upset with you. Now, come with me.”
She grabbed him again and pulled him through the hallway and through a door marked “Student De-Aged Nursery.” He stared at what surrounded him. The entire room was made to look like a pre-school, with bunnies and cartoon characters on the walls, cribs, and childish toys. It was full of children, who sat playing with the toys. Except, they weren’t children. On closer look, Bryson saw they were all really his own age. Like him, they simply appeared younger. Unlike him, they were dressed accordingly, wearing childish t shirts and pants, toddler’s overalls, or babyish onesies and diapers. Some seemed happy with the situation, smiling and playing, while others pouted or glared at the caretaker who ran between them checking diapers and helping whining ‘children’.
“What is this?!” Bryson asked.
“This is for students who can’t handle it and become de-aged, like you. They begin to appear more like their mental age, and are taken here to be dressed up and treated as such until we find someone suitable to take care of them. Don’t worry, in a little while we will determine your appropriate age. For now, let’s get you in some kind of protection, ok?”
“What…” Bryson was cut off as he was lead through the room to a changing table, where he was sat down.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked.
“Don’t worry, just try to relax, ok?” the Dr. Harrison said. To his shock, she began undressing him. He shouted and tried to struggle, but she easily overpowered him and took them off. “Silly child, you know you little ones aren’t as strong as you once were. And you also know this is for the best, don’t you?” She pinched his check, and he stared at her in sad confusion. “Or, you would if you were mature enough to, but I guess that’s a moot point, eh?” She giggled, and finished undressing him.
“Now, lets see…. What seems appropriate for you…?” She began going through the shelves underneath.
Another woman, the caretaker he had seen earlier, came up. She was a smiling woman in a nurses uniform with her long blond hair tied back. She was in her twenties, possibly one of the students. Or was she a bit older... Wait, maybe a late teen? Bryson couldn't quite determine.
“Well hello Dr. Harrison, found another? He sure is a cute one!” she tapped his nose. “What are you thinking for him? Shall I diaper him?”
Bryson’s eyes went wide. Diapers!? “No… please not those.” He realized they were ignoring him and kept talking about him as if he didn’t say anything. He felt a bit annoyed, realizing they were treating him like a child and he didn’t really have any say.
“No, that’s alright,” Dr. Harrison said. “I’m going to be taking care of this one. And I don’t think diapers quite yet. I’ll start him with something less… extreme, and see if he can handle it.”
“Awww lucky little guy, getting taken care off by Dr. Harrison! And not even in diapers yet!”
Bryson sighed in relief as he heard he wouldn’t be in diapers, but his relief was cut off as she held up a baby blue pull up, decorated with sesame street characters. He
blushed deep red when he saw the wetness indicators on it.
“I think these will do for now. What do you think Bryson? Will these be enough to hold back your accidents? Can you keep your pants dry with these alone? Or should I get something a bit cuter…”
“No no, those are fine! Please!” Bryson couldn’t believe he was begging to be put in pull ups. He supposed it was better than the alternative. Did they really expect him to have accidents? How was all of this happening?
He remembered the wish he had made last night. For a new world, without stress, without anything to worry about, no work…. Had it come true in some bizarre way? It couldn't be, wishes didn't actually come true like that... wait, why didn't they? Why would he think that they didn't work? Perhaps he had found the right one.
He let himself be dressed. She pulled the humiliating undergarments on him, then followed it up with a baby blue t shirt with bunny rabbits on it, jean overalls with a teddy bear on the chest, a flap at the back for checking his pull up, and ending in shorts, and Velcro strapped running shoes. He felt absolutely humiliated, both because he had to wear it, and because part of him thought the rabbits and bunnies were absolutely adorable. He stifled a giggle of joy when he saw them.
Finally, the professor finished dressing him and stood him on the ground. She placed a pacifier in his mouth and handed him a teddy bear. It was brown and wearing a red cape. Like a king, he thought, or a lord. Lord Bearrington.
"There, don't you look cute? Does that feel better?" she tickled Bryson under the chin, and he laughed. "Now, I’m going to have to let you go for now, alright?” She pointed at the girl in the nurses outfit “Jessica here just finished her shift will help you get back to your room. I’ll need to make arrangements to see if I can take you in permanently, so that will have to do for now. I’ll be calling your roommate and building staff to know about your new condition. They will check up on you and reported any issues or accidents in your pull ups. Don’t worry, no one will get mad at you for it, you can’t help it anymore. Your professors have all already guessed, and I’ll be telling them anyway. Be a good boy, be sure to keep your pull ups on, and I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” Bryson nodded, and she kissed him.
Jessica put her hands on her hips and looked at Bryson. "Another one. You know, you should have seen this coming. Plenty of other people go through the same thing without ending up in training pants. And frankly, I think you should all just be in diapers. Save us the trouble of determining what you are." Bryson hung his head in shame. "Oh, don't cry now. You'd only prove my point."
She grabbed a bag full of pull ups and supplies, then went to Bryson. She took his hand and led him out of the building and toward his own dorm. He suckled the pacifier and clutched his teddy bear tight. Everything seemed so different. Everything seemed larger in proportion to him, though he knew he was still the same size. The other students all looked at him like a child, giggling and awing at him. Whenever he passed someone he knew, they looked at him either with surprise or knowing confirmation, and always amusement. He blushed, humiliated by it all. No one question that he belonged dressed up like that, wearing pull ups and carrying teddy bears. They all saw him as a toddler, if that. He began to notice a few other things too. Some of the other students, normally the ones who had troubles making classes or paying bills, were also looking younger than normal, and watched him with worried looks before scurrying off, as if they had seen a warning of their own fate. HE really must be in another world
Finally, they made it to the building. Jessica carried him up the stairs, saying it was too dangerous for him to walk up and lifting him with surprising ease. He supposed it was another aspect of this new world, people could carry him with no problem. She took him to his room and led him in.
Mark was sitting on his bed, reading. He looked up as the entered, and shook his head and Bryson’s new outfit. “I warned you,” he said. “With the way you were behaving I’m surprised you haven’t found your way into diapers and onesies already.”
Bryson glared at him from behind his pacifier. He took it out. “Hey!” he said “You’re justa big meani… EEEP!” He was cut off as Jessica spanked him hard on his pull up.
“Now now, don’t be rude to Mark. He’s absolutely right. You ended up like you are now because of your own immaturity. If you had listened to him, you might still be in big boy pants. Now, he’s going to be taking care of you, and might just might spank you if you try that again. I think you’ll find naughty de- aged babies are spanked a lot more than the actual ones. Do you know why, little Brysie?” the harshness of her voice was frightening to Bryson, especially compared with the soft cheeriness of Ms. Harrison's. He backed away from her as she spoke.
Bryson rubbed his sore bum and shook his head. “No…” he said. He was surprised at how soft and high pitched his voice was. Wait, had he actually tried to call Mark a ‘big meanie!?”
“Because, unlike the other babies, you had your chance to grow up and ended up like this on your own accord. We also know, despite your cuteness, you are older, should
know better, and can handle spanks better. Plus it serves as a warning to other would be little ones to pick their act up. So you better be careful or you’ll find your bum getting tanned over someone’s lap pretty soon. Now, apologize to Mark and be a good little De-aged, Reverse-Aged toddler.”
Bryson pouted. “So-sorry Mark.” He couldn’t believe how young his voice sounded.
“That’s ok little guy, and don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Now, you’ve had a long day, so lets get you ready for bed, alright?”
Bryson nodded and allowed Mark to undress him as Jessica left. Mark put him into pyjamas, and tucked him into his bed. He handed Bryson the teddy bear and put the pacifier in his mouth. Bryson tried to say no, shaking his head and spitting it out, but Mark insisted. Bryson remembered the threat of spankings and accepted them. Despite himself, felt himself cuddling the bear and suckling, and drifted off to sleep.
He awoke the next day, once again to Mark shaking him.
“It’s time to get up little Bry-Bry! Your first class is with Mommy Harrison, so you can go see her there, ok?”
Bryson woke up slowly, a bit confused. Suddenly he remembered everything that had happened. He spat out the pacifier and threw the teddy bear away.
“No… Uhhh.. I don’t think I can go. I’m ummm... Sick. See? Ahhhhhh...” He hung his tongue out, doing his best impression of a sick person.
Mark rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly,” he said, “now here, lets see your pull ups.”
Bryson squeaked as Mark pulled down his pyjama pants. “Soaked!” he said “Thank god we got you in them! You may end up needing night time diapers. Now come on, lets get you dressed.”
“What!? What do you mean?” Mark ignored Bryson and pulled him toward the closet. Had he really wet himself? He stared down at the pull up, feeling his stomach rise up as he noticed the wetness indicators had changed colors. “No…” he muttered. He couldn’t have... He realized the if it wasn't for the humiliating pull ups, he would have wet the bed.
Mark paid no mind as he stripped Bryson, threw away the pull up, and began dressing him. When Bryson saw him take out another pull up from the bag, and began to panic.
“NO!” he shouted. “No pull ups! I don wanna!”
Mark looked at him sternly. “Now now, you do as your told. With your last pull up soaking wet, you can’t exactly argue you don’t need them. Calm down, or I’m afraid I’m going to have to pull you over my knee and spank your naughty bum, got it?”
Bryson kept struggling. The desire to stay as far away from pull ups as possible overwhelmed the threat of spanking. He tried to pull away.
“Alright then, have it your way,” Mark said, and picked him up.
Bryson found himself turned upside down, bare bum in the end. SMACK! He heard as the hand came down upon his exposed bottom. He landed another one, then another one as Bryson squirmed, finally giving up.
“OW! OK OK! I’ll wear it I’ll wear it!” Bryson screamed and half cried.
Mark set him down on the ground, and held the pull up. Sadly, Bryson put one foot after another into the legholes, and allowed himself to be dressed up like a child in the same clothes had had worn yesterday. Mark gave him his pacifier and teddy bear, which he took without argument.
Mark waved his finger in Bryson’s face. “Now, no more naughty behaviour. I have to let you go to your class, and you are to go right there without stopping, got it? Your mommy will be waiting for you there. Everyone knows what you really are now, so no funny business. With your soaking wet pull up and you cuddling your teddy, you can’t really argue. Got it?”
Bryson nodded, and was let go. Mark turned and left.
Bryson peaked his head out the door, and watched him leave. He quickly shut it and locked it. Now was his chance.