Written By Jennifer Funshine
~ Chapter 1 ~
Twenty-Two year old Thomas Larland stood gazing out his basement suite window surrounded
by a lifeless haze that enveloped his mind like a hand closing around a tennis ball...
just before the big serve.
TWACK!
A bubble of movement expanded from inside his skinny frame and Thomas felt the familiar
sensations of warmth swelling around his crotch as his diaper filled steadily with urine.
The streaming hiss of pee afforded a smile on the young man's concentrated gaze.
He watched, mystified, as a phantom parade of clouds marched proudly across
the evening's twilight sky.
Colors, both soft and vibrant coursed bravely along the stern autumn wind in milky sheets
of violet-orange and ruby-reds. This began projecting some lonely childhood vision into his mind and Thomas reluctantly allowed its tapestry precedence over what remained of his muddled thoughts.
The diaper was full now.
Full and oven-warm to the touch and he eagerly suckled on his pacifier
before looking down at the soiled bulge beneath his plastic pants.
Thomas stopped for a moment, then turned nervously about his cozy little hole in the ground.
The kitchen protruded against the far right wall across from a musty-smelling bedroom.
The counter tops gleamed yellow, shy with several dirty cups and plates. A small computer sat
on a wooden table nearest the sink and the hard tile floor was separated by a coarse gray mat
which passed for the living room carpet.
Here, there was a couch to sleep on and a television to stare at whenever it decided to work properly,
that was. Thomas hadn't spent much time doing either of those things but they were comforting diversions to have, his mind agreed. After all, these were symbols of his progress. Medals he might someday decide to fix to his bedroom wall like old Playboy centerfolds, admiring all the tiny
but attractive, trinkets of precious freedom. His freedom.
And of course, the price of freedom was none too high to pay,
especially at that moment. His sopping-wet diaper undoubtedly made the decision easier.
A hasty crinkle followed by a sprung leak replied as a sort of dignified approval and Thomas,
or "Tommy" as his mother had called him, crawled-- not walked-- but crawled to his bedroom
to change himself. A thin trail of fluid marked his trek across the cool kitchen floor.
Outside the first pangs of thunder began their road work. A storm was coming.
Those teachers of thunder cackled with laughter and drew a scare from Thomas who immediately lunged for his teddy bear, Dayna. He sat with his knees pressed against a Care Bears changing mat and muttered the name to himself. "Dayna." An image of a short but shapely girl with amber hair, deep-set eyes and freckled cheek bones fluttered into his mind and stayed there.
The same way a honey bee might come to rest upon a mayflower, seeking sustenance.
He squeezed his eyes shut and felt the sting of memory gather its baggage and buzz lazily
into the black night ahead of him.
So you named your first teddy bear after her, so what? His mind injected. Danya was
no doubt madly in love with you but you just had to move away-- "That I couldn't control!"
He spoke the last two words out loud in a manner of self-defeat. And he was right.
Moving had not been his idea but it was out of his hands. To stay in the big city, surrounded
by legions of people who had learned to despise him-- either by foolish pride or selfish lust--
it didn't matter which, was stupidity to the third degree. But he still went on missing her,
missing Dayna. Missing that tender smile and warm voice.
Shaking arms drew themselves tightly around this teddy bear
and Thomas now lay flatly against the changing mat.
Taking in the shallow breaths of sleep and wishing away the chorus
of thunder as if he were seven years old all over again.
Darkness flowed from Tommy's opening eyes but quickly relayed moonlight. A sharp twist of pain
he couldn't refuse boiled beneath his bladder which was building with pressure.
A wide poster of a cherry-red F-1 racer caught his attention. He turned his head sharply to
a bright blue glow ring dangling over a faded wooden dresser marked with stickers of comic heroes.
The pressure subsided for the slightest of moments as Thomas observed the glow ring,
suspended in place like an exotic piece of alien slinky. His eyes narrowed to the sticker posted
to the second drawer.
Wolverine (in his old brown-orange outfit) gazed back at him with
eerie contempt, as if to ask "who are ya gawking at, bub?"
When suddenly the dam broke free.
Thomas made a heroic effort to subdue the acidic tide but it was of no use.
Thomas and his pajama bottoms were swiftly defeated and Wolverine was likely shaking his head now. Wearing an expression that invited the words, "expectant failure" to mind.
Soaked and drooping wet, familiar tears caught in his eyes as the bedroom door swung open
with a shout. The shout was familiar too, it had come from his father. Like the first brisk winds
of wintertime, the voice soothed and stung his cheeks simultaneously.
Thomas blinked just to be sure. His mother stood in the doorway tying her robe and motioned him
to come across the bed. Perhaps to save his ears from the curses his father was spraying at him, perhaps so she could scold him herself. Thomas wasn't really sure of anything by this point.
Except that he was in a whole cow-pie's worth of trouble...
BANG!
The abrupt sound of metal striking rusted tin awoke young "Tommy" Larland
from his uncomfortable slumber on the carpet floor of his bedroom.
A brief shadow and the scuffling sound of polished shoes passed outside a sunny window sill.
The mailman, thought Tommy.
"The mailman dropped something in that box, probably a bill I can't afford or a free sample
for a product I'll never buy."
Speaking aloud to himself always helped to settle his nerves. Except this time.
His nerves were set all ablaze and his head ached like a drunken sailor who had just finished swimming to shore, attempting to keep his neck above sea level even as his bare feet stood
nesting in hot, white sand. Still rubbing his eyes, Tommy groped for the nearby alarm clock
that rested on an oval glass table by the foot of his bed. He switched a button and plunked down
on his mattress, feeling the afternoon heat surround him.
The gentle harmonies of music began feathering the hazy air...
A smile grew across Tommy's face as he recognized Roger Hodgson's vocals
and cascading piano chords that was Supertramp's "The Logical Song."
His heart was suddenly all aflutter with the understanding that reality
and dreams could become a singular entity. That he need not fear the past
so long as he kept his nose pointed to the future.
Then the chorus blossomed in and Thomas sung along with eyes closed
and hands gently folded in his diapered lap.
Something tumbled loudly in the background and Thomas broke free of the serenade,
sprinting towards his front door. A cold and clammy hand clenched on the rusting knob
and Tommy's heart skipped a beat as it moved. Drawing back the door revealed...
a cardboard box. The width and height of a toy chest sitting casually in the stair well leading down
to his basement suite. A sharp wind cut through the tall grass of the yard then- tussled Tommy's slender, shoulder length hair and nipped at his bare legs.
The box was as light as a feather and a giggle escaped Tommy's lips.
"Appearances sure are deceiving," he thought and smiled to himself.
Something is inside this box though, something magical and amazing
and it's making me feel so giddy, oh gosh I can hardly wait...
Wait, what's this?
A blank business-type envelope stuck to the top of the package and Thomas wasted no time
in fishing out its contents. A single sheet of paper slunk lazily to the ground. Thomas flipped it over with two painted toes and hunched his back to read the fancy purple script. "Color Your World."
The words felt like a stern command given by a drill Sargent and he rolled them over
in his mind, feeling slightly amused."Color Your World."
Outside, the coiled palms of several dying trees swayed beneath October's autumn wind.
Leaves flew wildly everywhere along his street corner, both in funnels and falls of half folded
paper diamonds. Their rich colors of bronze, tangerine and gold painted a harvest landscape in the neighboring yards-- Thomas knew, even if he couldn't quite tell from his perspective under ground.
The box loomed majestically in the corner of his eye.
'Why haven't you opened it yet?' That child-like excitement swelled in Tommy's throat again and pressed on his chin as his tense hands worked. Nervously tearing apart the strips of masking tape that imprisoned his prize. Finally the flaps sprouted open, inviting him to unearth his treasure.
His prize, his treasure. But he hadn't needed a key to open it, determination had done the job for him.
A thick plastic bag held a rather large piece of fabric in place but Thomas already realized that
he was holding a dress. And not just any dress, (his mind suddenly claimed to know )
A beautiful baby girl dress!
In a frantic burst of speed and energy that would make even The Flash
blush a cheek, Thomas bolted into his bedroom. He tore off his Tinkerbell T-shirt and plastic pants and changed quickly into a fresh diaper. Thick clouds of talcum shed from his legs as he snatched
the outfit and stripped away the plastic covering before holding it up for inspection.
Of course 'inspection' was such a cold and sterile word, 'reverence' might surely do.
Frilly, silken lace accented the dress- from the neck to the sleeves and around
a cotton heart knitted into the tummy center.
Rainbows and stars and smiling Care Bear faces hugged the soft material against a baby pink filling. Very few words or phrases could describe its beauty. No words or phrases could describe how its arrival made Thomas feel inside. Looking down at the box for a moment he observed no visible address of sender or even his own postal code. No document or slip or sheet or tag to indicate
the price one might be inclined to pay for such an item. No thank you note for ordering or
mention of a discount for future purchases, neither a location of its origin of production. Nothing.
Just a plain cardboard box and a sheet of plastic covering the most
precious outfit Thomas had ever laid his eyes upon. And that envelope
with the piece of paper, Thomas recalled. The words echoed into his mind
as he tried on the adorable baby dress... "Color Your World."
The dress slid over his smooth body with ease but something pointy had clipped
the back of Tommy's neck. This has to be the bill, he thought.
The card was small and it sailed to the floor upside down.
Thomas scooped it up, feeling immediate regret wash over him.
"Sleepy Stars Shine On Time."
The text was faded and looked as if a typewriter had put the letters in.
Thomas couldn't recall the last time he had even seen a typewriter.
Drawing the conclusion that his dress was probably old and kept in storage for a good
ten years, he smelt the collar and then the skirt. A deep scent of strawberry filled his nostrils,
as if sniffing a felt pen of said fruit for the first time. Thomas breathed out and giggled like
a little girl, feeling light-headed. The smell was incredibly intoxicating.
The dress wasn't old but the message in it likely was.
Maybe a part of a song or nursery rhyme, it certainly was catchy.
Then the urge to go outside rushed at him, heavy and panting.
(the mailman knows what it means)
This dog of a thought pulled Thomas by the short leash and stopped him at his mailbox
mounted to the corner wall of the building. The time had come to do business.
He reached an arm in, grabbed the only envelope inside and ran back to his house
in the flailing baby dress.
Now it was his turn to start panting. Bent over and gasping for air
Thomas studied the envelope and read its title. "For Tiffany"
He swallowed a rock. Tiffany was his chosen girl name. Nobody who knew Thomas knew Tiffany.
In his Museum of Secrets To Keep From The World his baby girl name sat on a pedestal besides
the time he had stolen and later, broken his brother's silver crucifix as an act of revenge.
"You don't know what you don't tell", thought Thomas. Simple as that.
Except now, somebody knew because somebody had told.
Tiffany was out. Beneath his fingers the letter weighed a ton but he tore it open anyway,
reading the crisp paper out loud to himself. By the second paragraph his nerves had settled,
but only momentarily.
Dearest Tiffany,
Congratulations sweetheart!
You have been especially selected to attend a three-day seminar
at The Cheerywood University for Sissy Baby Girls.
This exciting opportunity includes specialized training in the areas
of Fashion, Beauty, Babyfication, Sissyfication, humiliation and others!
Our facilities consist of a twenty-four hour nursery, daycare, beauty
salon, and applicable dining areas to help you maintain your ideal diet.
Transportation is provided to all of our first-time members.
Your departure has been scheduled for tomorrow at precisely
11:23 p.m. Tardiness is not optional as this is a limited opportunity.
Please note any and all personal affections (such as, but not limited to) Blankets, Bonnets, Bottles,
Pacifiers, Teething items, Toys, Teddies, Dollies, Perfumes, Lipstick, Makeup, Jewelry, Earrings & Watches
are to be promptly submitted to our designated Cheerywood Officials upon the time of arrival
and may be retrieved at a later date.
We hope to see you here, Tiffany!
Most kindly,
Valerie Vincent
~ Project Coordinator ~
An ice cream swirl of emotion froze Tommy's mouth in place.
So many questions in his mind were searching for answers
but his imagination had already begun to exceed its grasp.
The letter appeared legitimate and the assumption that it was indeed
Cheerywood University who mailed him the dress felt plausible enough.
"Perhaps this is all a secret experiment and I'm their test subject.
After all, the letter stated I'd been "selected" but by whom, exactly?
Who was Valerie Vincent and how did she know me? Supposing there
had been a mix-up could the real "Tiffany" be wondering where her dress
(assuming it was hers) and invitation had disappeared to?"
Ultimately, Thomas decided he didn't care. This was the greatest adventure he had ever
been invited to in his entire, frivolous life and for once he actually had an outfit to wear to the party.
The prospect of meeting friends from his own community was beyond exciting
and it was this feeling that outweighed the remainder of his doubts and fears.
Mentally, he was preparing for the spotlight... Getting ready to shine on time!
~ More to come! ~
