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Flash Fiction: What Dreams May Come
🕑 Added 2023-03-17 21:48:30 +0000 UTCWhat Dreams May Come
A sound, like rushing water awakens you.
You’re awake. You’re in a crib. You’re wearing a diaper. It’s soaked and your bladder is empty. This is not surprising. You went to sleep in this crib. It’s no wonder you should wake up in it. Same for the diaper. It wasn’t wet when you fell asleep, (not that wet anyways) but it’s present condition is just the natural consequence of the passage of time.
You sit up and yawn away the last of the dream stuff. Absent-mindedly, you wonder if that squish beneath your bottom is poop or not. It’s so hard to tell first thing in the morning when everything between your legs is wet and squishy. It’s shocking just how routine this all has become. There was time when you would have balked at all of this. Now you just accept it.
Mommy comes into the room. “Good morning, baby!” she coos at you through your crib bars. “Did you sleep well? Have pleasant dreams?”
You smile softly, demurely, as you give a pleasant chirp of ‘Yes Mommy!”
“Wonderful!” she says. “Let’s get you changed and ready for the day.” She lowers the crib bars and you climb out only so that you can climb back onto the changing table. “Such a good baby!”
You are a good baby. A very good one. It’s something that you’ve worked hard at. So very hard. You haven’t had any other choice. It’s not up to you. Nothing is. You struggled at first, but Mommy made it very clear very quickly that you could fight as much as you wanted, but it wouldn’t stop you from becoming her good baby.
“After we get you dressed for the day,” Mommy says pulling the safety strap over your chest. “We’ll get you some breakfast, and then we’ll go to the park to play. Maybe Margaret will be there!”
Margaret is your best friend. Your Mommy and hers had decided it. You didn’t much care for her, to be honest, but you didn’t have much choice in the matter.
You don’t feed yourself. You don’t dress yourself. You don’t decide where you go, who you spend time with or for how long. The only freedom you have left is in your dreams. In your dreams you can be anything. When you’re awake, the only thing you can be is a dumb baby. Mommy’s working extra hard on unteaching you your FZY’s.
Mommy is a very good teacher…
Mommy tears open the tapes on your diaper and starts to clean you up. “Oh wow!” she gushes. “Such a wet baby!” She drags the cold wet baby wipe across your front and between your legs. “I bet someone was dreaming about going for a swim!”
You open your mouth to tell her what you were actually dreaming about. You can’t remember, though. It was so vivid, too, you’re sure! Cold wipes on your bottom and Mommy’s cooing makes it so hard to concentrate!
Just then, Bobby walks in. Bobby is your big brother, but not so big that you don’t have to share a room together. Bobby has a big kid bed that looks like a racecar. Sometimes Mommy asks him what he wants to do instead of telling him. Billy can feed himself and dress himself.
Presently, he’s doing just that. You watch enviously from the changing table while Bobby takes his pajamas off, all by himself. You stare while he strips down and takes out a pair of underwear out of the top drawer of his dresser and steps into it, easy as pie.
Suddenly you realize the sound that woke you up was the sound of Bobby flushing the toilet, and your blood turns hot. Mommy is busy unfolding a diaper and slipping it underneath your hips. “Mommy,” you ask. “When will I be ready to use the potty?”
“Oh,” she says, pausing for just a moment. “Probably never.” She grabs the bottle of baby powder and dusts your privates with it.
“But why?” You ask.
“Because you’re just a baby.” Mommy says. “Babies don’t use the potty, do they?”
Bobby used to be a baby. You know. You got here first. But for some reason, Bobby’s been allowed to grow up when you haven’t. Again. Grow up again. You already grew up once. It’s weird how you have to remind yourself lately. So much of your old life before Mommy feels like a dream; an elaborate fanfiction that you wrote yourself.
Everything from before feels less real as Mommy spreads your legs and pulls the fresh, thick, poofy, crinkly diaper that prevents your knees from touching and forces you to walk with a waddle 24/7. It is only the first of the day. It will not be the last. You can’t remember the last time you got to wear underwear; real underwear; the kind that couldn’t be seen from space. It was only an academic memory by this point.
You lift your head up to examine the decorations of the diaper Mommy just put you in. It has balloons on the front. The one you woke up in had pictures of sleeping kitty cats. Depending on what Mommy feels like, you might find yourself in a diaper decorated with nursery rhyme characters or one with fishes swimming. You don’t even get to decide your diaper decorations!
Meanwhile, Bobby would get to wear those jungle safari themed undies all day long.
“Oh!” you gasp. “Mommy! I remember what I was dreaming about?”
“Oh?” She chuckles, “What was your dream, baby?” She undoes the strap and helps you sit up. Your thoughts suddenly feel as crisp as the new padding wrapped around your hips.
“I was on safari!” you exclaim. “I was hunting big game!”
“That sounds nice,” Mommy says, pulling your sleep shirt up over your head. “What game? Checkers?”
“No!” You correct her. “Like I was shooting animals and stuff! Lions and tigers and bears!”
“Oh my!” Mommy replies. “Are you sure you were on safari? Maybe you were just dreaming about going to the zoo?”
“I’m sure,” you say. Bobby has already gotten dressed and walked away. You’re still nude except for the padding. “It was awesome!” Talking about your dreams was one of the few things you could freely do.
“Was I there?” Mommy asked.
“No,” you proudly exclaim. “Just me.”
“But if you were in the jungle hunting animals,” Mommy teases, “who would be there to change your diaper?”
That was the best part about the dream! About all your dreams! “I wasn’t…!” Except you were. You immediately remember the dream. You picture yourself wearing a helmet. A pith helmet, you think it’s called. And one of those khaki button up shirts that people always wore in the cartoons and movies. Boots too. But between the shirt and the boots, was your diaper. Just your diaper. No pants. No belt. Nothing.
And right beside you, holding your hand, was Mommy. Even in your dreams you couldn’t get out of diapers. Even asleep you were with your Mommy. There was no escape. No freedom, even in your subconscious.
A terrible melancholy comes over you. Were you ever actually an adult? Or have you just been fooling yourself with your dreams and they’re now finally telling you the truth about yourself.
“So,” Mommy says. “What do you want to wear today?”
“I don’t know,” you mumble, trying not to sob. “I’m just a baby. You pick, please.”
“Of course, baby,” Mommy smiles. “Of course.”
Comments
True True
Full agree
Sometimes dreams do come true, but no one ever said they were you YOUR dreams
I say this in a manner that doesn’t mean to slight any other story, but it’s quite nice to get a human non-DD story every now and again.
