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The New Narnia- Chapter 41: What They Missed in the Mist
🕑 Added 2021-04-07 03:07:46 +0000 UTCChapter 41: What They Missed in the Mist
Gentle Reader,
One of the sweetest gifts of early life is the gift of forgetting. As you stumble and fall and crawl through the muck of life, blissfully unaware of how utterly ridiculous and disgusting you are, you slowly gain a sense of the world and of yourself in it. The curse of continuity looms with memory however, and the change in one’s existence is so slow and subtle that who you are and what you were often seem like the same person, as much as you wish it weren’t.
Thus the blessing of forgetfulness: You forget that phase where you kept ingesting your own mucus- from nose to finger to mouth to stomach. You lose the time that you wet your pants right in the middle of the school play, or when you thought it would be a perfectly splendid idea to run out into the backyard buck naked and play in the sandbox. Or when you pooped and hid it in the toybox. Or when you tried to cook breakfast for your parents and almost burned the house down.
Thanks to forgetfulness, the mistakes of the past can be gently erased, and only the best parts. Forgetfulness makes the most embarrassing incidences of your life just part of a mortal gag real. A wacky outtake that doesn’t really count.
And when the blessing lapses, the pain of memory isn’t as strong. It feels like it was someone else doing those embarrassing, filthy deeds. Not you. It was younger you. Child you. Baby you. Present you can hardly be blamed for the accidents caused by baby you.
As you grow older, you learn to invoke the blessing (or at least attempt to), with things besides the passing of time and the changing of bodies. You wake up in bed after a wild party not remembering who you kissed last night. Alcohol has absolved you. What is getting blackout drunk if not speeding up the time it takes to forget?
As long as the person you were snogging with doesn’t remember, either, what’s the harm? That wasn’t really you and Sally from third period; that was blackout drunk you and Sally from third period. Completely different thing.
So as Katy Dean went off to school, blissfully unaware that she’d been slightly taller, and on a developmental level much much closer to her same aged peers; and Tommy looked on in confusion (much less blissfully), please understand that what they remembered was not entirely what happened.
Back at the party, a rousing round of Duck Duck Goose had just concluded, with Katy finishing a full lap, victorious because she’d picked the right “goose” to chase her: one that stopped and laid an egg right as he was about to catch her.
Such a lovely party. No pretension. No shame. No regrets. Oh, how she wished, if only fleetingly how it would never end! Yet, despite being dressed and playing as a toddler, pretty diaper cover and all, something wasn’t quite perfect. Not yet. She had an adorably little mind, but her body was still very adult.
So it wasn’t entirely surprising that when she took her spot back in the circle, victorious, that she looked around it and felt strangely familiar sensations. Sensations of curiosity. Sensations of lust. Toddler clothes, no matter how fancy, are designed with many things in mind: but modesty and anatomical obfuscation is not one of them.
Skirts are short so that diapers may be checked and changed more easily. Pants and shorts slide right off- baggy around the waist and the legs, but do little to conceal what is between them. Form fitting clothes still stretched for comfort and were easy to take off and put on, should a little one dirty themselves more than a mere napkin or quick wipe could handle.
And this made sense on people much younger than Katy Dean. Modesty and attraction had little to do with a pre-school world. Words like “pretty” and handsome had more to do with bright colored clothes, or neatly combed hair; not how they hugged your body or failed to conceal curves and cleavage.
On her classmates, curves were accentuated. Shoulders and chests seemed broader. Legs were more alluring. Things that would normally be contained weren’t, and bulges abounded in places where thinner undergarments normally prevailed.
Hmm...bulges. The boys’ diapers were all slightly bigger up front than the girls’, and it wasn’t just because boys tended to wet up front. Something besides pulp was swelling too. Just looking at them, blissfully unpretentiously unaware of how good they looked or that they had anything to hide made Katy feel wet, and not from her bladder.
These types of fantasies and ogling weren’t unnatural or uncommon to Katy. Hormones and dirty thoughts came to everyone. A lifetime ago (or a few days, whichever came first), Katy might have seen something she liked, perhaps a boy looking particularly good out on the P.E. field, and just filed it away for later. Or if she caught herself staring, she’d bury her nose in a book and list prime numbers in her head until the excitement went away. It’s all come out in the shower later that night. Look, but don’t touch, and don’t look too long. That sort of thing.
This wasn’t that lifetime, though. As far as Katy was concerned, this was a dream. Her classmates didn’t have pointy elf ears, never mind being dressed like extras in a Melanie Martinez video. So what was the harm in looking at bare legs and broad chests? What was the harm in imagining what lay under the pants besides Luvs and Pampers and Huggies? What was the harm in sneaking her hand between her legs and giving herself a bit of a rub. Why wait for the shower, when by all accounts she was likely having a sex dream in bed?
“Mmmm…” she moaned quietly to herself. If anyone caught her or stared she could just lie and say she was scratching an itch. Not a total lie either, but some itches went away when you scratched them. This was the type that flared up when attended to. Scratching only made it worse. How nice, Katy thought, would it be to just lay back and let the pleasurable inevitable happen. Maybe the maid could pick her up afterwards and take her to the changing tent.
A hand on her shoulder. “Hey…” A voice softly whispered. Familiar voice.
Katy jumped. “Daddy?!” Vague flashes of a manly centaur, and odd feelings about her math teacher. No. It was Jefferson (or the elf equivalent) standing over her. “Oh...hi!”
“You wanna get out of here?” He smiled softly, but there was a hunger in his eyes. Katy thought she knew what that hunger was. ‘Thirst’ might have been a better word for it. As flabbergasted and dream logicked as she was, Katy still knew what the gorgeous boy was implying. Some things were universal. (Literally, if this Malacus place was indeed another world).
She took the simulacrum’s hand and let him lead her away from the music and dancing. They were going to do a much different kind of hokey pokey.
The grass was soft, like a blanket. The air was warm but not too warm. Enough not to shiver, but not enough to sweat. The surrounding was quiet, save for the gentle chirping of crickets, yet just off in the distance the music of the party could be heard. Perfect. Afar and alone, and the gentle reminder that while people might be around, they were otherwise occupied.
Elf-Jefferon’s lips pressed gently onto hers and she pressed back. She tingled as those lips worked down to her neck and hands caressed. She let a stream out into her diaper and that much tension left her. No thought of hygiene entered her mind. This was a dream. Dream logic. And when you were in a dream, you didn’t think as much as feel.
And Katy felt very, very, naughty.
Her dream boyfriend laid down on his back in the grass, his eyes full of wanting, (and if the bulge in his pants was any indication full of something else too). “Ready?” he asked. Katy didn’t need to wonder ‘ready for what’.
“Yeah,” she nodded, kicking off her shoes. A blush rose to her feet. Losing her virginity, even in a dream, had a certain intensity to it. She always knew Jefferson would be her first. This fantasy just confirmed her own subconscious longings. Barefoot, she stepped forward, spreading her gait over the prone boy’s ankles. But before she stepped further and lowered herself down she frowned.
A stray thought. “Aren’t we supposed to have our pants off?” That’s what some people called this, right? The pants-off-dance-off?
“Oh yeah!” Not-Jefferson said with the same kind of levity as someone who forgot to close the refrigerator door. He remained lying down as she shuffled his shorts down to his ankles, thrusting his hips upward off the ground. He almost looked like he was trying to change himself.
Speaking of change… “Aren’t we supposed to take our diapers off, too?”
The dream-boy looked down at his soaked padding and his face warped into one of embarrassed confusion. “I...don’t know how. My Mommy usually does it for me.”
Katy lifted up the hem of her dress and looked at her own undergarments. She tried to summon up the information on how to get herself naked, but nothing was coming up. The buttoned on diaper cover might as well have been a high security vault.
She knew how to take it off. She’d seen it done at least a million times on real babies, but couldn’t figure out how to do it. It was the mental equivalent of that dream where you’re running down a hallway but never quite get to where you’re going. Oh yeah. This was a dream. Dream logic.
“Mine too,” Katy said. She didn’t think it was true. Mom didn’t change her diapers anymore; would have been embarrassed; make that furious; to find out she was sneaking them into her room. But this was Malacus. This was a dream. So in her dream, Mommy changed her diapers and told her what a good girl she was for lying still on the changing table and not making a fuss when her playtime was interrupted by change time.
That feeling was...odd. Her skirt still lifted, she lowered herself down onto not-Jefferson’s hips. “Maybe we can still have some fun.”
Even through two layers of the thick padding, she could feel him.The squish just made it more gentle. Never having done anything like this, she worried that she was doing it wrong, but her body knew what to do. And it was a dream, anyways, so what did it matter.
Up and down. Up and down. Her heart quickened as she tingled with each thrust of his hips. It was very much a matter of leverate and timing, she was finding. Grinding against her boyfriend at just the right time and then easing up as his hips sank.
It was almost the opposite of that brief time when she and Tommy would share a bed. They’d cuddle together, and one breathed out while the other breathed in so no one was pressing up too strongly against each other. Here and now, that kind of clash, that kind of press was EXACTLY what she was craving.
Ugh, what was she doing, thinking about Tommy!
She chased it out of her head and started to enjoy herself, grinding and grinding, as if she were trying to force the boy beneath her back down with each thrust, beating him down with her own hips. It was work, but it was the kind of work that became more rewarding as time went on.
“Oooooh,” he moaned around his thumb.
She did the same, sucking on her digit and subconsciously (or not so subconsciously) pretending it was something else.
They moaned together as their thrusts got more intense and more in sync.
“Uh, uh, uh, uh.”
“Mmmph, mmmph, mmmphm, mmmph!”
Oh yeah. This was the stuff. Then disaster struck. Jefferson started getting louder. Louder and faster. This might be a dream, but Katy knew what was happening.
“No baby!” She said. “Don’t! Not yet! I’m not there yet! Don-!”
“Oh! OH! Oh! OOOOH! Baby Jefferson thrust and screamed into his thumb. Then stopped moving. “Phorry,” he mumbled around his thumb, his eyes already half closed.
Katy’s face twisted and snarled. She was close! So close! But there was no action going on now. In a huff she rolled off of the big inconsiderate idiot. “Would you mind at least-?” He was already snoring.
‘Daddy’ indeed! Just a dumb selfish boy who was only thinking of himself. Not a caregiver. Just a selfish little baby that didn’t know how to share. A playmate, maybe. A Daddy? Not really, not unless they were playing house (and then she’d be the Princess Mommy so she could be extra in charge).
“Little boys, huh?” Another familiar voice from behind her, this one she’d only heard here in Malacus, or so she thought. How was everyone getting the drop on her tonight?
“We weren’t doing anything!” Katy lied. “I just...I...I...fell?”
The Maid’s finger pressed to her lips. “No need to lie, Katy. I know everything about you. I changed your diapers, remember?” Normally, that rhetoric only meant, ‘I’ve known you for a long time’. It didn’t normally refer to ‘literally within the last few hours’. It made less sense.
“Sorry.” Katy blushed. Like a child, she didn’t quite know what she was apologizing for.
“Don’t be sorry, dear.” The Maid said. “You were just playing horsey with your friend.” She snorted. “Though it looks like he stopped playing without you.”
“Yeah…” Katy stuttered. “We were just...playing.”
“Lie back.”
Katy’s face felt like it was glowing. “What?”
“Lift your dress back up and lie back.”
“But-?”
The Maid winked. “You want to finish your game, don’t you?”
“I-I-I-...” Katy gulped. Her horniness won out over her dignity. “Yes ma’am. I wasn’t finished.”
“Then lay back.”
She did.
“Good girl,” she cooed. “Now let’s...play.” She leaned forward and placed her hands on Katy’s diaper. “Let’s finish.”
The dream-woman was much better than the dream-boyfriend. Now it was Katy’s turn to close her eyes and thrust up. And with every thrust, the woman’s hands worked into her. The pressure was building up. Building, building, building!
And she stopped. “Push for me.”
Katy’s eyes opened in a panic. “I wasn’t done yet!” So close, not once, but TWICE! To be denied a third time would surely drive her mad!
“Push for me,” the woman repeated. “Use your diaper. All the way.” She started rubbing again, just enough to tease Katy.
Katy didn’t ask for further clarification. SHe knew what was being asked. And like a good girl, she raised her legs up to her tummy, and pushed, filling her diaper on command. The cake had gone right through her and was now warmly smushing up against her bum. An old fashioned mud bath.
The pleasure doubled, then tripled, as the Maid picked up the pace and intensity. Katy closed her eyes, and muttered and moaned in excited little whimpers as she was brought closer and closer to climax.
A jolt went through her and she flailed helplessly in the grass, crying in ecstacy!
As a bit of early morning mist enveloped her, Katy felt the fight and energy leaving her body. She’d be waking up soon, though part of her really didn’t want to. She felt, more than heard, the buttons on her fancy new diaper cover come unpopped. She heard, more than felt the tapes of the now completely unused diaper get ripped off.
She didn’t look up to see what was going on. She didn’t need to. The grown-up lady was taking care of it. Before the dream ended and the mist enveloped her, the last thing Katy heard was “Good baby.” She had a contented smile on her lips.
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BONG! BONG! BONG!
“Ugh,” Tommy groaned. “Not agaaain!” The darn clock was trying to summon him...again...twice in the same night. What was up with that?
He banged his side lightly on the toddler bed’s railing before he was awake enough to remember that he had to sit up and scoot to the foot of the bed. “If I have to tell that clock to buzz off myself,” Tommy muttered, “I will.”
Barefoot and wearing a Pull-Up and sleep shirt, Tommy tromped and crinkled to his bedroom door. He stopped and turned on the light. Crinkled? The shrunken young man had to rub his eyes and blink several times just to make sure, but fade when wet designs didn’t lie. He was dry!
His elation was short lived as another BONG! BONG! BONG! Ripped through the air. Why was he the only one being woken up by this. Why wasn’t Mommy bothered by this?
Tommy didn’t make it to the clock. Not even close. Even in the darkness he could see the mist, a thick fog rolling in, slithering like a snake, moving with purpose, slipping up the stairs onto the second fog. Real mist didn’t move like that… And it was sliding right under Katy’s door.
“Katy!” He charged into her room. “Katy, wake-!” He stopped. The room was empty. His sister was gone.
The mist welled up in the room like the ocean, like the tide coming in. And like a tide rising and drowning a buried man, it slowly overtook the young lady’s room and began to transform it. It was not a ‘magical’ transformation this time, not in the visual sense.
Had the scene been filmed, it might be mistaken for a bit of chicanery and clever camera editing; a cheap trick instead of anything miraculous. There were more awe inspiring transformations in a below average Disney-Pixar movie.
Clouds of smoke drifted in and engulfed a bit of clothing or a piece of furniture, and when it withdrew, it was altered if not outright replaced. The mist rose up among Katy’s dresser, and when it shrunk back, it was covered in sparkling unicorn stickers. Keepsakes and childhood awards vanished in the mist and were replaced with Barbie Dolls and toy horses.
Bedsheets went from floral patterns and butterflies to My Little Pony. In other places, the smoke welled up into amorphous shapes, and when it withdrew, a pile of stuffed animals sat where none had been before.
It was a subtle effect, to be sure. Less a transformation and more a replacement, or a whithering away. In the back of his mind, Tommy compared the smoke to a type of acid, peeling away layers of adulthood and maturity wherever it touched.
Only in the back of his mind, though…
The mist crawled up and snaked its way into Tommy’s nostrils, invading his lungs and brain with each surprised gasp. Far too soon, Tommy was thinking...but not strictly with his brain.
Tommy’s pulse raced. His mouth watered. His Pull-Up felt smaller, but only part of him was growing.
The particulars of where and when he was mattered less and less. Disgust and self-consciousness were covered up by a kind of forgetfulness. His house? Not his room? It didn’t matter just then.
All that registered to Tommy Dean was that he was alone again in a sweet smelling nursery that was almost as babyish as his own, and infinitely more feminine.
He couldn’t have known where he was or what he was about to do to a perfectly pristine Twilight Sparkle plushie. More accurately, he COULD have, but something in his brain refused to register it or acknowledge it; a different kind of blackout drunk not brought on by alcohol.
The purple alicorn plushie was big. Big enough for someone of Tommy’s reduced status to ride...or ride or to take a ride. Tommy pounced on the stuffed animal and began humping it, gritting his teeth and grabbing onto the wings. It was like humping a pillow, but with more form...sturdier...firmer.
Almost human...almost.
He grinded and thrust and bumped, pushing himself again and again against the stuffie. Orgasm would not come for him, however. Something wasn’t right. Too dry. Too coarse.
Instinctually, Tommy knew how to fix it. He closed his eyes. Took a deep breath. And wet himself. The warmth flooded his Pull-Ups, causing them to swell and droop. There was no point in checking the fade when wet designs.
He went to it again, thrusting and humping Twilight Sparkle. Better. Much better. The inside of his almost diaper was Wet and warm and squishy, like the inside of a certain ex-elf queen.
Closer.
Closer.
But not there yet. Tommy’s face grimaced and his lips puckered and itch. He bit down on his bottom lip but it hurt too much. Trying to work on a rhythm, he sucked on his thumb. It felt right, but he lost so much momentum and traction. So much of the primal act was about leverage and pressure.
Something glimmered in the moonlight. A pacifier? Even in the darkness, Tommy could tell it was familiar, the same shade and color as the one Katy had bought for him in the store. Not just any pacifier, his pacifier, from the first time someone had diapered him in the real world. Maybe Katy had smuggled it into her room without him realizing it, or maybe the mist had left it there for him to find.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the release!
Tommy stuck the pacifier closed his eyes and relived that moment. Being there in public, and having someone shove a pacifier in his mouth to keep him from fussing as they changed his diaper for him.
Just. Like. A. Baby.
The second time though, in his mind at least, it wasn’t Katy diapering him. It was someone else. Someone older, possibly immortal as far as he could tell. Someone with mismatched eyes.
The orgasm came just as the imaginary diaper was being taped up. The screams of delight were muffled by his paci. Twilight Sparkle kept staring into the middle distance. If she minded the padded coupling, she gave no notice.
Sleepily, and yes, slightly guiltily, Tommy snuck back to his room, and went to sleep sucking on his pacifier. The last thing he did before drifting off was raising his bum into the air and pushing a mess into his Pull-Up.
Mommy would be disappointed.
Tommy didn’t care.
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So, Gentle Reader,
With all of the sudden and traumatic changes being coaxed out of the Dean twins and them going through a nigh impossible transition of sorts, it makes a certain kind of sense that they didn’t remember all of what had happened the night before. If they had, they would have been loath to recognize themselves.
Some memories best lay buried. When you’re growing up, you tend to forget the things you’re not proud of. Why should it be any different than growing down?
Comments
I always look forward to updates on this story. Gonna be disappointing when it ends. Either way, great update as always.
nottheking
Well, well. It’s seems our journey is slowly but surely coming to a climax (c’mon, I had to). I can guess how it ends, but that’s the easy part. The joy is in reading how you take us there. Glad you’re back, Mr. Narrator. Hope you and the family are doing better!
