The Changing Room

On the other side of the Nursery's entrance were three rooms with signs on them. One was the men's bathroom, a sign by the door showing a simple shorthand for a man. Then there was the women's bathroom, showing a similar figure that looked like it wore a dress. Then there was a room labeled with what looked like a picture of a baby bottle.

Unlike a typical bathroom, there were no tiles on the floor or walls. The floor had basic carpeting and the walls were painted white, the room clearly having been meant to be used for storage or an office-space. It was sparce, with a black leather-couch, a wooden chair, a closet with a sliding mirror for a door, and a table.

The table wasn't your typical piece of furniture either. It was knee-height, but it looked like a solid cube without legs, with shelving under the top. The top itself had a plastic cushion, not unlike the kind you would find in a doctor's office.

"Alright Jordan, let's get you nice and dry," said Mrs. Campbell, who wasted no time undoing the front of Jordan's pants.

"Wuh, I can do it," said Jordan, realizing what was happening.

"Oh no you can't," said Mrs. Campbell, who tugged his loose jeans down, exposing his wet diaper. "Your form said that you were a baby. Babies aren't allowed to change their own diapers because babies can't change their diapers."

Mrs. Campbell's index finger poked Jordan hard where his bellybutton was under his shirt. He flinched hard enough where he fell on his padded bottom onto the table.

"I know you're new to this lifestyle, and that's okay. You're not the first to come here in your first diaper. My job is to make sure you're happy and safe. Now lay down and I'll take care of you."

She gently pushed him onto his back and he didn't fight her, though he couldn't help but put his palms on his face, overwhelmed with embarrassment as she got a good look at the yellow stain in his underwear. She hooked her thumb under his knees, raised his legs up and, cupping his padded bottom, slid him further into the middle of the giant changing table.

His legs over her shoulders, she grabbed and tore off all four tapes on his diaper and opened it.

She wiped him with baby wipes kept on the shelf just under him and unfolded a new diaper under his big boy butt. A part of him was glad he agreed to shave his diaper area, knowing it made cleaning him easier so that this would end sooner.

She oiled him, powdered him and taped up the new diaper.

"There we go, now that wasn't so bad, right?"

Hands still over his face, he strained his neck to shake his head "no".

Without warning, she tugged the hem of his shirt up and blew raspberries on his stomach. He gasped in shock before cacklign involuntarily.

"There we go," she said, pleased by his reaction.

He sat up in the new diaper. For one thing, it was a lot more comfortable than the pharmacy-brand adult diaper he was wearing before. A lot fluffier. It was also a shade of bright blue instead of the bland white. Printed on the front were what looked like anthropomorphic cartoon lions on the front. They were meant to be grownups -- one even had muscles and a mane -- but like Jordan, were dressed in nothing but shirts and diapers.

There was something morbidly hilarious about the idea that Mufasa would be the first to get peed on if Jordan wet himself again.