The boy Jim has a crush on will be there.

Barely a few blocks away from the culdesac was the public park. Tax-funded and designed specifically for the infantilist population, this playground was made to be played by babies of all ages, including young adults like Jim and Timothy. The ground was paved with the elastic, rubber black and blue material that ensured safety for the playground's occupants, the playground itself composed of a variety of things to entertain them, including a swing-set, a set of springed riding-horses, a sandbox, a merry-go-round, monkey-bars, and a large fort, including three large plastic slides and a climbing net.

Sitting in the sandbox was a boy, who was playing with a toy bulldozer, using it to shovel sand around. The boy was lean and about the same height as Timothy. He had unkept dark hair and bright green eyes. He wore a bright, primary red onesie that reminded Jim and Timothy of Clifford the Big Red Dog or Thing 1 and Thing 2 from The Cat in the Hat. It had no decorations or pictures on it, with the white plastic frills of his diaper poking out from the leg-holes of his onesie.

"Hey Fayette," said Timothy, noticing that Jim was hesitating to say something.

"Jim, Timothy," said the boy, his speech syrupy with a thick French accent.

"Hi," said Jim, blushing and fiddling with his hands.

"Can we join you?" Asked Timothy.

"Of course," said Fayette, who scooted back into the corner of the sandbox behind him to make more room.

Both boys found a place to sit in the massive sandbox, Jim doing so with an air of caution, as they borrow a pair of plastic shovels that Fayette had brought with him.

"So what are we making today?" Asked Timothy.

"Château."

Timothy gave him a confused look.

"Er, castle," corrected Fayette, laughing slightly from embarrassment.

Fayette Brodeur moved into town less than three years ago. He and his parents had immigrated from a town off of the coast of French Riviera to America five years prior. Finding and leaving one job after the other, his parents eventually found work in their quant little town. While wearing diapers and being babied was not mandatory by law in the town, Fayette was socially outcasted by his age group for being different, both for his thick accent and for dressing differently.

Having difficulty fitting in, he let social pressure infantilize him, only for the humiliating transition into diapers take massive swings at his self-confidence and causing him to sink into a depression.

Feeling bad for Fayette, Jim decided to befriend him. They exchanged hobbies, watched movies at home, even had a sleepover once. Jim still thought the look on Fayette's face was odd when Lila walked into the room and changed him out of his wet diaper, still holding the conversation they had about Pokemon as she did so.

What Jim had not expected was the strange feelings that prolonged exposure to the French boy had on him. Sometimes he would just lie in his crib at night thinking about him, or his heart-rate would increase whenever Fayette addressed him directly, or when he felt the front of his diaper grow tight when Fayette was bare-chested.

Now in college together, they were still friends today, though Jim wanted more than that.