Unwillingly drafted for Baby New-Year Duty.

Linda was having the weirdest dream and woke up to find that her entire room and everything in it had changed while she slept. Her queen-sized bed was now a giant-sized crib, her desk and computer was changed into a changing table, her clothes have been infantilized and

The shorts and t-shirt she had fallen asleep in were now gone, her pants replaced with a diaper taped snuggled against her while she struggled to cover her naked breasts with her arms. She even had to spit out a pacifier that was put in her mouth while she was sleeping.

"Who the fuck are you and why did you put me in this?!" She yelled to the stranger in her room.

The stranger in question was dressed in a suit you would expect an account to wear. Though instead of the lifeless grey one associated with the job, his entire suit was a bright cream-color and glowed a phosphoresce. He stood straight and ignored her shouting, instead skimming a clipboard.

"Linda Campbell, female, age 21 according to the Gregorian calendar of this planet, species-human..." he listed out-loud.

"Hey! Hey asshole!"

He looked up toward her, but it was barely an acknowledgement.

"Alright. Everything seems to be in order."

"In order? In order for what?!"

The glowing accountant gave a weary sigh.

"Hello sir or madame, my name is Jim and I will be your representative during the remainder of your service."

"My service?"

"You, Ms. Jim Campbell, have been selected out of the 7.889 billion occupants of your species to partake in a civil service appointed by the Bureaucracy of Creation. You have been selected to fulfill the role of 'Baby New-Year'. Goody goody for you."

"So you put me in a fucking diaper? Look dude, I don't know what kind of sick, kinky games you think I'm into, but I refuse to be a part of it. Now get the fuck out of my house before I scream or call the police or something!"

"Look," huffed Jim. "I'm not the one who picked you to do this. You think I like wrangling you primitive monkeys for eons on end? You've been picked for a very important job. You get to embody the beginning of the New Year, and all you have to do is play the role for a year and then you'll be done."

"I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."

Jim groaned and pinched between his eyes.

"Okay, let me speak frankly. This little mud-ball your species lives in doesn't just exist on its own. Time doesn't move on auto-pilot, the cycle of life and **** needs someone to move the pedals. At the beginning of every year, we select a handful of you lucky little monkeys to make sure the Earth keeps turning, and you just happen to be one of them."

"So, what? I'm some kind of God now?"

"In a manner of speaking. Right? You got one of the easier jobs. All you got to do is sit there and be Baby New-Year so that New Year's Day can come. Then, when the following New Year's Day comes, you'll be free of your service and you can go back to wasting your life like before."

"And that means dressing like a baby? Come on, man."

"Oh, you ain't just dressin' like one," continued Jim. "You've gotta live like one. It's all in the instruction manual. We're having it delivered to you New Year's Eve tomorrow."

"Couldn't you have just picked an actual baby for this job?"

"Are you daft? Babies can't read. They can't think. They can't work. You can, so you're gonna be Baby New Year."

"You can't do this to me!"

"I'm not doin' anything. It's not my department to pick the people. I'm just supposed to make sure you're doing your job. That's my job."

"This can't be happening!"

"Will you relax? You got one of the easier jobs. The last guy to play Father Time was a sixteen year-old boy. He spent a whole year with Alzheimer's and arthritis all over his body. He's fine now, physically, but it wasn't an easy job. And don't even get me started on Santa Claus. Wouldn't wish that job on my worst enemy."