Dante’S Infanzia Chapter 17: I Am Mine

Written by: Personalias

Everything had come down to this:  Dante’s death, the Judy’s, Lysa, Midori, the Newborn Room, Caroline, regressing, Jamal, Vivian, Kevin, his Grandparents, the truth about Lysa, approaching the threshold, finding his anchor, singing, standing, being punished, Saint Jude, things getting even worse, and now this.  Dante was about to commit his one last act of defiance against the forces of Heaven and their jailors in Limbo.  They would see the mortals in their care as something to be respected, not manipulated; that they were more than just simple children to be rewarded or punished as deemed appropriate.

Some very small part of Dante questioned himself; felt guilty.  Maybe the Judy’s were doing the right thing in the long run.   Then he remembered that the Devil was once an angel as well.  Not even angels were perfect.  They only held onto that pretense.  These things were just as capable of fault, pride, and monstrousness as any sentient creature. They just had special tools to help them in their designs.  Hopefully Dante’s plan would shock them bad enough to where they’d think twice, but he wasn’t doing this for them.  Not at all.  Fuck them with a giant spoon and twist it sideways.

Dante always thought that guilt was the last thing to go.  Apparently not.  He had so many other emotions running through him that he couldn’t register them all.  Anger, fear, hope, even a little bit of pride.  He’d never felt like this.

He counted to a hundred slowly, as the stroller moved along the winding narrow path.  Then he counted backwards from a hundred just to be sure.   He wanted to be at about the half-way point before he started, too far away from Limbo or Heaven for reinforcements to arrive in time to make a difference.  It was fortunate that the Judy in the green dress hadn’t stripped him of his ability to count.   Dante smiled.  Then again, maybe she did, and he was just taking it back anyways.

Dante knew exactly what song he wanted to use.  It wasn’t “You Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated”, but he liked it better in this instance.  “You Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated” was a story about punk kids that shirked responsibility and consequences.  “You’re under 18 you won’t be doing any time. Come out and play.”  That wasn’t who Dante was anymore.

This song, Dante’s new song, was about all the wonderful things that people had inside of them, and how they shouldn’t shut those things away.  They’d be incomplete without them.  It was about how indomitable the human spirit was and how in the end, everything was going to be okay.  That was Dante now.  It wasn’t what people wanted him to be, but it was what he chose to become.

Dante started tapping his foot in the stroller, counting to himself to keep the beat.  It was in 3/4 time so it was trickier than your average pop song.  The strongest part of the beat came on the downbeat at the beginning.  Kind of like a waltz.  ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three, ONE-two-three.  Okay Judy, let’s dance.

Dante began to sing, just barely above a whisper.  Weaving his final, greatest spell.  He sang:

“the selfish, they are all standing in line,
faithing and hoping to buy themselves time.
me i figure as each breath goes by,
i only own my mind.”

He felt the strength and coordination return to his arms.  He could picture the words in his head, with actual letters.

“the north is to south, what the clock is to time.
there’s east and there’s west and there’s everywhere life.
i know i was born and i know that i’ll die,
the in-between is mine.
i. am. mine.”

Lysa looked over at him.  She had heard.  She started tearing up in realization.  She mouthed the words “No”.  Dante kept going into the chorus.  Louder this time, with pride, so that Judy could hear.  He unbuckled himself from the stroller.

“When the meaning gets left behind,
All the innocence lost at one time”

The stroller stopped suddenly.  It shook a little as the angel tried to unsuccessfully spank Dante through the back of the stroller.  It was too padded and reinforced to make it through.  Dante sang on in wait.

“Significant behind the eyes”

Dante looked to his left and waited.  With the road being so narrow, it was Judy’s only route.

“There’s no need to hide.”

He reached out and jabbed the Judy in the stomach.  The angel wasn’t used to full strength contact and doubled over.

“We’re safe tonight!”

Dante lunged sideways out of the stroller, and like a tiger swiped at his captor’s head.  A smile formed on his lips and Eddie Vedder’s guitar riff sounded that much louder when he saw her ear plugs fall out.  Dante glanced around. Just like last time, every angel that could hear his voice was still and entranced.

Especially, to his satisfaction, the Judy in the nursery scrubs.  Time to bring it home.


He stood up on his own two feet.


He ripped off the blue baby t-shirt.

The diaper followed.

He strode up to the Judy, the hairs on his body sprouting out of him, stubble coating his face.  Dante reared his fist back….

“I! AM! MINE!”


The Judy stumbled back from the force of Dante’s blow and tumbled off the side, down through the celestial sky.  Apparently, having never been designed or purposed to leave Heaven or Limbo, these so-called angels lacked wings.  Dante nodded his approval and grinned.  His turn now.

“What in God’s name is happening to the Judy’s, Molly?!”  a familiar voice rang out in the stillness.  Dante’s  head whipped around.  His grandparents were no more than 30 feet from him.  What were they doing here?  He turned to face them.

“Frank, he’s staring at us…and he‘s naked,”  Grandma whispered a little too loudly.  “Do something.”

“Uh…sorry to interrupt.” Grandpa stammered.  “We got permission to walk on down this road and pick up our grandson early so we could spend some more time with him.”  Dante saw that Grandma was holding a child’s potty under her arms, and Grandpa had a package of what could only have been Pull-Ups.

“Wait a second, Frank.”  Dante’s grandmother said, squinting at Dante.  “He looks just like our Bobby did when he was a teen-” then it clicked.

“Dante?!” they both said in unison.  The plastic potty chair rattled as it was dropped to the ground.

Dante smiled.  It wasn’t a happy smile, but it was for them.  An idea occurred to him.

“Hey Grandma, hey Grandpa!”  he shouted.  “Tell everyone what you saw here, and give my regards to the Big Guy.  Pass this along to Him for me, would ya, Grandpa?”  Dante raised his middle finger in the air.  His grandparents didn’t move.  Only nodded.

Dante peered over the side.  Nothing but clouds blocking his view, but Dante knew what lay below them.  Here goes nothing.

Dante felt a hand grab his wrist.  A Judy. It had been too long since he had stopped singing.  He spun around and swung his fist at top speed.  His fist stopped an inch from connecting with Lysa’s face.

LYSA!  She was standing…SHE WAS STANDING!  Just like him she was standing, and completely naked.

“Please don’t go.” she said, looking into his eyes.

“How?”  Dante asked.  “How did you-?”

“As soon as I realized you were singing, I started talking to myself.  Lying.  I kept telling myself lies again and again, and next thing I know, here I am.”

“What lie did you tell yourself?”  Dante questioned.

“That everything was going to be okay.” A single tear danced down her face.
They just stood there.  Holding each other between two after-lives. Not a word was spoken.  Enough words had been spoken, lies had been told, and songs had been sung to last an eternity.  Dante surveyed his battle field.

Judy’s were starting to come to, shaking their heads as if they were waking from a dream.  As soon as they laid eyes upon Dante and Lysa, the Judy‘s gasped.  No shouting of “Orpheus“ or “Contact the Saint.”  No battle cries or bum rushes.  Instead, each angel knelt down and bowed their head.

They were in the presence of  the Adam and Eve of Limbo.  These two were idealized perfection about to fall from Grace.  Whether from some form of reverence or pity, the Judy’s all stayed their hand, and waited.

“Come with me,”  Dante whispered.

Lysa shook her head.  “I can’t,” she told him.  “I can’t leave Caroline.  Stay with me.  Don’t go to Hell.  You don’t deserve that.”

“We all deserve it,”  Dante said.

“Doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be avoided at all costs.”, she pleaded.  She hugged him harder.  “I’m not letting you go, Dante.  I refuse.”

“BOY!”  an ancient voice boomed out.  “STOP THIS MADNESS!”  It was Saint Jude.  Floating in the air above them.  “STOP THIS AT ONCE AND I SHALL SHOW YOU LENIENCY!” He commanded.

“SORRY OLD MAN!”  Dante shouted back defiantly.  “YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE THE RULES!  NOT THIS TIME!”  He leaned over and whispered in Lysa’s ear.  “I love you.  I’ll always love you.  I am so sorry.”  Then with all his might he bit down into her ear.  Her screams echoed out into the open air.  The Judy’s all covered their ears at the sound of her pain.  Dante torqued his neck and clamped down on her ear.

With horrendous effort, followed by a sickening ripping sound,  Lysa’s ear came lose in Dante’s mouth.  She let go of him and covered herself retreating back into the fetal position.  The hair on her womanhood was already beginning to recede.  Dante spit the ear down next to her so it could be reattached.  Then, he took a step back and unfolded his arms, mimicking a cross.  He fell back into nothingness.

He freefell into oblivion, past the clouds.  The scene changed to an ever darkening night sky, the stars twinkling like candles in the background.  Long drop.  Very long drop.  Dante’s descent seemed to slow for an instant.

“NO!”  Saint Jude’s voice boomed from the clouds.  “I CANNOT LET THIS PASS!”  In half a second, he was on Dante, his gnarled hands reaching out to snatch him up and drag him back to Limbo.

“NOT THIS TIME MOTHER FUCKER!”  Dante roared.  “THIS TIME, YOU LOSE!”  Dante swatted away the old man’s hands with one arm and struck at him with another.   Dante felt a satisfying crunch as he connected, breaking the self-righteous bastard’s nose. Not dismayed, Saint Jude reached down and grabbed Dante by the wrist.  Dante’s fall slowed to a stop.  Jude’s grip like a vice. Dante dangled helplessly by his wrist.

It couldn’t end this way.  It just couldn’t.  Through sheer willpower Dante pulled himself up and bit into the Saint’s arm.   The old man cried out in pain as Dante tore with his mouth like a dog with a bone. (Thanks Dori)  Blood poured into Dante’s mouth…so a Saint could bleed after all.

The grip on Dante‘s wrist loosened and Dante didn‘t hesitate to swing with his free hand.  He stiffened his palm and swung his hips the opposite direction as he connected with the Saint’s elbow.  A sickening, satisfying cracking of bones greeted Dante‘s ears, and Dante laughed in the old man’s face as his elbow bent the wrong way.

“Finally free“, he thought, as he fell into the blackness. Finally Free.  He was a man.


Dante was awake before he opened his eyes.  Either that or he was in complete darkness.  Soft tinkling music permeated the air, like a lullaby.

“Wakey wakey, baby Dante,”  a Judy’s voice caught his ear.  “Time to get up and start your first day.”  He hadn’t made it out after all.  He slowly opened his eyes.

Wooden  bars were in front of him.  He was in a crib, again.  The fleecy feeling on his skin told him he was in footie pajamas and the crinkle and bulge between his legs confirmed he was back in diapers.  Something was wrong though.  A Judy peered down at him in the crib, smiling wickedly.  Not just any Judy though; the Judy in the nursery scrubs.  His Judy.  And she was enormous.

He brought his hands up in front of his eyes.  They were tiny, pudgy little things.  He reached to the top of his head and felt only a few wisps of hair poking out.  He screamed in shock and a high pitched squeal came out instead.  She wasn’t giant; he was now in the body of a baby. Fuck!  He had to sing, he had to sing, he had to sing.  He had to get out of this place!

“Blabble abbbble goo gaa!” came out of his mouth instead of any actual words or identifiable melody.

“Poor, poor, STUPID…BABY…DANTE!”  the nanny said mockingly.  Her eyes literally flashed red for an instant.  “You couldn’t think of any worse torture than being treated like a baby for all time.  Well you know what?   Neither could we.”  She unbuttoned her blouse and reached down and picked Dante up.  “We just made some improvements.”

“I was sooooo mad at you when you knocked me off the path.” she continued,  “Taking care of little babies just like you was all I knew how to do.  But now, I have a new name and a new purpose.  And that purpose is making sure that you’re the best baby ever!”  She brought Dante’s lips closer to her nipple and shoved his face in.

Dante cried as he began suckling.  All hope abandoned.  All bravado drained.

“Don’t worry though, baby Dante,” the fallen angel cooed as she stroked Dante’s bald head, every word honeyed with venom. “this isn’t angel milk, any more.  You won’t forget who you are, or regress, or anything.  But I’ll still get to feed you and burp you and dress you and change your diapers and bathe you and read to you and play silly little games with you.  You’ll just be a big strong MAN trapped in a BABY’S body.  Doesn’t that sound fun?  Mama Lucy will take such good care of you.”


It had been three days since Dante had leapt into Hell.  Three days since Lysa had failed to stop him from going.  Failed.  Again.  Failed. Failed. Failed.  Lysa was a failure at everything.  Lysa sat in her playpen feeling sorry for herself and mourning Dante.  She had expected to be taken immediately to the Newborn Room and share a cot with Caroline for all eternity, but that‘s not what happened.

Instead, her ear was reattached with a kiss, she was redressed as a baby, and carried back to Limbo.  All of Limbo had been in such disarray after Dante made his stand that she suspected that she had just slipped through the cracks and she would be punished for her part later when it was convenient.

New Judy’s, one’s she hadn’t recognized, had been popping up all over the place, either transferred from other nurseries or created out of thin air.  Lysa didn’t know why.  Her current caretaker had short black hair and brown eyes.  Instead of nursery scrubs, she wore a modest white blouse and black skirt; just this side of school marm.

Other than that though, everything was still the same.  Calling themselves “Mama Judy”, cooing, tickling, feeding; the whole nine yards.  Lysa had gained back control of her emotions, speaking, and all that other semi-adult stuff.  It was almost as if Dante had never existed.  She didn’t have words for how awful she felt for thinking that.

The new Judy came over and checked her diaper.  She was wet, she knew, but Lysa didn‘t bother telling her that.

“Ugggh” the angel groaned as she placed Lysa on her hip.  “You’re getting’ heavy, Lysa.  Pretty soon, Miss Judy isn‘t going to be able to carry you anymore.”  Miss Judy? Hadn’t heard that one before. Where had that come from?  Lysa shoved the thought from her mind before.

“A moment, if you please, Judy,” a raspy voice called out.  It was Saint Jude- the old man who had flown after Dante and only came back with a bloody nose and a broken arm.  He looked fine now…if you could still look like an old prick and be fine, that is.  No broken bones or anything.

“Please leave us,“ he instructed and the Judy complied.  He pulled Lysa up so that she was sitting on the changing table.  “I wish to talk.”  he said.  Lysa just stared at him.  She let her silence be her opening volley.  The old man sighed.  “We’ll be putting up a guard rail along the narrow path so that something like this never happens again.”   There was a long silence.

“That’s what you came to tell me?!”  Lysa spat.  The old man opened his mouth.  Then closed it again.  He shook his head.

“Ye-…No.”, he replied.  “What I really wanted to say was that I am sorry for your loss.  The boy was very special to you.  Given time he could have been something special to all of us.”

“His name is Dante,” she scolded, “and this is all your fault.”

“I am aware,” Saint Jude replied.  “Now I am anyways.  I did not realize that the Judy’s were capable of such cruelties, that they would resort to the sort of treatment that pushed the boy…Dante, to his act of rebellion.  I am Regent of Limbo, but there are many more nurseries than this one, and I am not omniscient.  I wasn’t alerted until it was too late.”

“How’s your boss taking the news?” Lysa asked, looking for something to rub in the Saint’s face.

“The Father was less than amused when an old man told him the story of his grandson rebelling against his treatment and then gave Him the finger.  Do worry,” he added, “the Lord did not unleash his anger upon the messenger.”

“Who did He release it on?”  Lysa pressed.

“There’s the less than satisfying part.” the Saint conceded.  “  The two conspirators that set this into motion- one is already in Hell, and the other was allowed to be unmade.  She chose non-existence over an eternity in the Inferno and so the Lord unmade her.  Beyond that, it is up to me to decide where we go from here..  A task that I do not enjoy, but…I am the Saint of Lost Causes.  It is my duty.”

“So what now?”  Lysa asked.

“First and foremost,” the old man spoke, “we’ll be changing the rules around here.  Any resident of Limbo who can maintain their hold on themselves for more than a month without slipping back into innocence will be given the option of moving to a different section of the nursery.  There they will be cared for as infants- physically at least- but they will be given the respect they deserve as dignified, intelligent, and experienced human beings.  Those that wish to become as they once were in the beginning will of course be allowed to stay and embrace their innocence.”  Lysa waited.

“That’s it?”  she finally asked.

“For now,” the Saint said as he turned around and began to walk away.

“That’s not fair!” Lysa called out after him, still sitting on the changing table in a wet diaper.  Saint Jude stopped in his tracks and spun around.  He marched up to Lysa, lightning flashing in his eyes.

“Not fair?” he asked,  “You know what’s not fair?  Postponing your eternal reward for a lifetime of devotion and-”

THWACK!  Lysa slapped the old man across the face.  He just gawked, rubbing his cheek.

“No!”  Lysa stared him in the face.  Unblinking.  “You don’t get to play that card. You’re not the martyr right now.  You don’t deserve that feeling of being right, cause you‘re not!”

“This is my fault,” the old man repeated.  “But I am not perfect.  To err is human, to forgive di-”


“Quit that!”  Lysa scolded.   “You don’t get to do some prepared speech or wise old saying, shrug, wink, and then walk away.  You talk to me like I’m a person damn it!”  Saint Jude was taken aback.  No one in Limbo spoke to him this way.  No one.

“I’m sorry…” Saint Jude stuttered at the girl.

“You could have saved him.” she insisted.

“I don’t think I could,”  Jude defended himself.  “I honestly don’t think  I could have.  He wanted to go, and if I had pursued him any further, I would have gone to Hell myself.  I have no power there.  Everything of me is invested in this place.  I‘d be trapped, just like him.”  All of the pomp deflated out of the man.  Practiced humility gave way to the genuine article.  “I’m sorry.  There’s nothing I could have done.  None of the other Saints could have either. They‘re already in their appointed roles and tasks.  We can‘t defy our purpose, girl.  We just can‘t.”

“Just because he wanted to go destroy himself, doesn’t mean you let him,” Lysa countered, her righteous anger building.  “You don’t let a baby touch a hot stove or bang their head against the wall, do you?   And even if you couldn‘t have saved him, you could have tried harder.  Some things are worth fighting for, even if you know you‘ll lose.”

Saint Jude looked up.  “What did you say, girl?”

“You heard me,” she folded her arms across her chest.  The old man smiled for the first time.

“My dear,” the Saint said looking her in the eye.   “I can’t believe I’m actually getting to say this, but you don’t belong here anymore.  You’ve grown up.”

“Huh?”  Lysa was confused.  “I died when I was 16.  I don’t’ go to Hell.  I won‘t leave Caroline.”

“No, you’re not going there.  Not yet, anyways.  As for your daughter, we normally don‘t allow babies to leave Limbo for any long period of time.  But exception can be made…for Saints.”  His eyes twinkled with happiness and mischief.  Lysa didn’t know what to make of this.   “I have a present for you.” he said as he reached under the changing table.  “It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

He lifted her up off the changing table and set her down.  She was standing on her two feet again, under her own power.  She was so frightened she was shaking.  With his free hand, Saint Jude untapped her diaper and let the sodden garment plop down to the floor.  He took a baby wipe and cleaned her between her legs while she stood.  Lysa dared not move.

Then he showed her what he had in his free hand.  He presented her with a diaper.  No quite, actually. It wasn’t white.  It was pink with a picture of Cinderella on it.  It was thinner too, and no tapes.  Kind of like a cross between regular underwear and a diaper,  Training panties, Pull-Ups.  Lysa started to cry.  The moment that she never thought was going to happen was happening.

Saint Jude popped the training pants open.  Lysa stepped into the leg holes and he slid the Pull-Ups up her hips and around her waist.

“It won’t be easy,” he said to her.  “And it will take a while.  Possibly longer than you’ve even been here, but I think you’re ready.”  He stood up and gave her a hug.

“Lysa Strata.  Your training begins today.”  Lysa was still trembling.

“Judy!”  the Saint called out.  The Judy came.  “There seems to have been a change of plans.  Lysa does not belong here anymore.  She’s grown too big.  I want her enrolled in the Purgatory Pre-School immediately!”  He laughed.

“Oh, Lysa, I am so proud of you!”  the Judy beamed, and took the girl by the hand.  Walking her out of Limbo.  “You’re such a big girl now!  I have got just the cutest little outfit in mind for you.
A purple shirt with some matching pants, and the cutest little white sneakers.  You’ll love them!  Then there will be your big girl bed and your big girl clothes and your big girl-”  Lysa tuned her out, lost in her.  A whole universe was opening back up to her.  But most importantly of all, she had a hope.

“Hold on Dante, everything‘s going to be okay” she promised, not a lie this time.  “I’ll come for you.”


The author would like to dedicate this story to his wonderful wife.
She found out my secret, loved me for it anyways and married me.
Without her encouragement, this story would never have been written and I would still be lurking on these sites, too afraid to even post a comment, dreaming

Special thanks  to all who read this story and commented on it.  It was good to know that there were people actually reading what I wrote.  It made the vastness of cyber-space feel a little less empty.

It’s been a crazy ride.  Thank you all for riding it with me.

Source: http://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?showtopic=34668&pid=561199&st=80&#entry561199

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Dante’S Infanzia Chapter 16: Better a man in Hell…

Written by: Personalias

Dante was alone in the darkness after the Saint walked out.  His legs lost their balance and strength and he collapsed to the floor, back on all fours.  Saint Jude had said that as long as they were speaking, Dante could stand as a man.  Clearly, the conversation was over.  Dante sat there, alone in the darkness, waiting for something to happen.

The darkness receded, and Dante’s senses were slowly barraged by a bevy of familiar of sights and sounds.  Bluish gray indoor/outdoor carpeting, the smell of baby powder and crying.  Lots and lots of crying.

Dante was in a playpen, he concluded as the world came into view around him.  He was all too familiar now with the mesh walls and padded floors.  He turned his head to the sound of the crying.  It was a girl, about his age, blonde, with her hair done up in a pink bow.

She wore a pink t-shirt that was puffed up and frilled around the sleeves.  Useless buttons ran down the front that made it resemble a blouse.  Stitched onto the left breast of the shirt was a cursive “L”  Her short cotton poodle skirt barely concealed the puffy disposable she was wearing.

“Lysa?”  Dante called out.  “Is that you?”   Lysa looked up.  Her face had been red and puffy from crying.  Her eyes were pink as if she had been stubbornly.

“Dante?”  Lysa asked.  “Is that you?  Is it really you!”  She lunged forward to hug him and fell on her face.  She started sobbing. “I….thought…I…had…lost…you…forever!” she managed to choke out between gasps for air and sobs.  Forever?  Dante couldn’t have been in the Newborn Room that long.

“Lysa, get a grip, girl.”  Dante said as he helped her up to her knees.  “It was scary for me too.  But I’m back now, so it’s going to be okay.”

“You were in there for nearly two weeks!” she blurted out.  “I visited Caroline twice and saw you on my way out the first time, and got an early visit back where I tried to wake you up.  You didn’t even notice me!”

“I’m so sorry, Lysa.”  Dante said.  He rubbed her arm for comfort.   “What’s going on, Lysa?  Why are you dressed like that?”

“Oh Dante,”  Lysa cried,  “things have changed here.  Badly.  When you stood up, you scared all of the Judy’s.  They’ve been cracking down, trying to break all of us into babies.  ’No more survivors, no more anchors,’ I heard one of them say.  This,” she sniffed, and gestured to her clothes, “is what I was wearing the night I got pregnant with Caroline.”  She hiccupped a little.  “Kinda.  They’re trying to humiliate me and shame me so I don’t wanna be who I was when I was alive.  And it’s wooooorkiiing!”  The poor girl broke down again into another round of sobs.

No survivors?  No anchors?  And what they were doing to Lysa was nothing short of a mind fuck.  Had Dante really caused all of this? Had the Judy’s come to the conclusion that every person holding onto their identity was a potential Orpheus?  A rebel in the making?  Dante had to know more.

“What about the others?”  Dante asked.

“Jamal’s already baby talking,” Lysa rambled, “Kevin is throwing tantrums all the time, and that BITCH Vivian is always sucking on a goddamn paci!”  She beat her fists against the padded floor.

“Easy Lysa,” Dante tried to calm her, “that’s not the real you talking.”

“Yes it is!” Lysa snapped back at him.  Dante jerked back a moment.  “That bitch has a paci….and I want one tooooooo!”  She whined like a two-year old.  “I want it worse than a cigarette, and I haven’t smoked in fifty-eight years!”

Instinctively, Dante moved in to hold her.  She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he began to rub her back.  Time for him to be the adult right now.  “Shhhhhhh,” he soothed her, “it’s okay, it’s okay.  We’re gonna make it through this.  We’re together again.  Nothing can stop us when we’re together.”  He closed his eyes and held her, and rocked back and forth to calm her.  Her bawling lessened.

A rubber nipple entered his mouth and he began robotically sucking down milk.  His eyes popped open in surprise.  He looked up and saw the Judy in the green dress smiling wickedly down at him.  A thousand curses popped into Dante’s mind and vanished just as quickly as the milk took hold of his brain.

His muscles relaxed as he saw the Judy in the green dress take a hold of Lysa’s shoulders and ease her down to her back.  Her legs lifted up and she bent her knees so that they were close to her stomach.   He felt another set of hands grab him and ease him away.  Dante looked up as he held his ba-ba-(Bottle…bottle…ba-ba) and saw his Judy in the nursery scrubs easing him away.  She still had earplugs in.

The two angels had snuck up on either side of them and simultaneously forced the bottles of angel milk into their mouths.  “Gotta keep our babies hydrated,” the Judy in the green dress snickered.  Dante tried to lean back but his Judy held him so he was still sitting up.

Lysa‘s tears were drying, her eyes glazing over.  She started grunting and lifted her legs a little higher to make room for what was about to happen.  He tried to turn his head, but found it being held in place by the Judy.  He felt the Judy’s fingers above his eyelids, ready to pry them open if he shut them.  He was being forced to watch Lysa poop herself.  “It’s okay, Dante,” green dress said, “Lysa doesn’t mind if you watch.  Do you sweetie?”  she tickled under Lysa’s chin as the girl finished her ba-ba.   Lysa giggled a little and blew a raspberry.  But something in her eyes reeked of desperation.

“Babies don’t care who’s watching them when they poopy in their diapers, cuz they don’t know any better.  Good thing you’re not a big girl, though, because this would be so embarrassing if you were.”  The Judy’s speech swayed in a sing-song manner, like a cobra about to strike.  Lysa stopped babbling and gasped.  She hadn’t actually realized she was shitting herself.

Lysa’s diaper puffed out and rude noises came from her backside as the mess pushed itself out.  “It’s a shame she finished her ba-ba so fast,” the other Judy said.  “It’s so cute when they’re pooping and drinking from their ba-ba’s at the same time.”  Lysa’s legs came down and she started bawling again.  The girl who had preached remaining calm had no control over her emotions as present.

The Judy in the scrubs released Dante and picked the crying girl up.  One hand supporting Lysa‘s messy bottom, the other patting her back.  Lysa burped loudly.  “Good baby!”, the Judy praised. “Just a couple more burps, and we’ll go change you.”

“I bet this brings back memories,“ the Judy said as she hiked up Lysa’s poodle skirt.  Dante didn’t have to guess what that meant.  These things weren’t angels.  They were monsters!  All along these things had known they weren’t dealing with children, and yet stubbornly refused to act otherwise.  Now that Dante had accidentally pushed the envelope, they were doing nothing short of conditioning and brainwashing everyone.

Dante needed to act, to do something instead of just sit there.  He opened his mouth so he could sing and start thinking straight, but a glance from the Judy in the green dress made him stop.  Instead he popped a thumb in his mouth and began sucking on it.  Admittedly, it felt pretty good, but it wasn’t want he had intended to do.  Green Dress smirked when Dante started sucking; Dante felt like he had been caught reaching into the cookie jar.  Cookies were yummy, he hoped Mama Judy would give him one la-stop it!

Dante kept shaking his head, trying to snap himself out of it and failing miserably.  He felt the green dress Judy’s hands grab him and lift him up by the arm pits.  He giggled unintentionally as she shifted him onto her hip.  “Baby swap!”  she announced.  “I’ll take the boys, and you take the girls.”

“That’ll work,” the Judy in the nursery scrubs called back, still changing Lysa.  “You want some ear plugs?”

“That won’t be necessary,”  the other angel replied.  “The Saint made it clear ahead of time that lil’ Dante here wouldn’t be allowed back in the nursery unless he promised not to do sing like a naughty boy again.  Isn’t that right, baby?”   she turned her head.  Dante gave a frightened nod, slightly sobered by fear.

“How long?” the first Judy asked as she finished taping up Lysa’s disposable.

“Oooooh, I dunno.  I think a week will be about enough.”  the other angel answered, bouncing Dante slightly on her hip.

“Suit yourself,” the familiar Judy said, pulling down Lysa’s poodle skirt, her chore now finished.  She picked Lysa up and grabbed her by the wrist.   “Buh bye, Dante!” she made Lysa wave.  “Buh bye!”

“Okie dokie!”  Dante’s present tormentor beamed.  “Be right back, Judy,” she called out as she turned around, re-entering the rats maze that was the nursery when all the cubicle walls were set up and sectioned off.  “We are gonna have so much fun Dante!” the Judy said.  “I’m going to teach you how to be a good baby, just like how I taught my kids.”

Half a minute later, Dante was in another play area, very similar to the one he just left. There was a playpen, a changing table, a trashcan, and a rocking chair. The walls had an alphabet border running along the top.

Instead of Lysa or even Midori though, were three fairly familiar faces in the pen.  The Judy in the green dress’s three wards, the one that Dante had witnessed breaking down day by day at mealtimes.  The boys were dressed in matching red rompers. The girl in a yellow sun dress. They smiled up at their captor, eyes blank and curious.  Babbling greeted Dante’s ears.

Having appeared out of thin air in just a diaper, Dante expected to be toted over to a changing table at some point and dressed.  Instead, he was taken into the playpen and sat down.  Without another word, the Judy went and picked up the girl in the yellow sundress.

“Adam, Andy,” the angel nanny said to the boys, “you play nice with Dante while I go drop Amy off.”  Dante whined from his position in the playpen, his thumb still in his mouth.  The Judy looked down at him, and Dante used his free hand to gesture to himself indicating his naked state.

“Oh, don’t be a silly baby.” she wagged her finger at Dante.  “You’ve got your diaper on. That’s enough for now.”   Before Dante had a chance to pull his thumb out of his mouth and reply, the Judy walked out of the playpen, shut the gate, and left with the girl in tow.  “Baby swap.”  Now he got it.

They were sequestering him away from Lysa, his last anchor.  They were trying to break him, break Lysa, break them all.  No more survivors, no more residents with their mental faculties intact.  This nursery in Limbo would be a complete and total mental wasteland once the Judy’s got their way.

Dante concentrated.  It was hard to talk right now, with the milk flowing through him.  He had to concentrate.  He looked at Adam and Andy, he wasn’t sure which one was which.  “Cam…yew…underthand…me?”  He said, focusing on each word.  Then he took his thumb out of his mouth and tried again.  “Can…you…understand…me?”

Their heads turned to the sound of Dante’s voice, but they didn’t react otherwise.   “Hi…” he waved to them.  Neither of them waved back.  One smiled and babbled a little, then fell over on his stomach. The other’s attention drifted and he crawled to the other end of the pen as if Dante hadn’t said anything.  Even Midori was more intelligent than these two.  They were placing him with the bottom of the barrel babies, no doubt.  Infancy would seem a blessing, a sweet release when compared to the loneliness of being with these two.

Dante crawled over to a corner of the playpen.  There he found a large teddy bear sitting in the corner.  It was a big one, like the kind you’d win for 10,000 tickets at a carnival. It’s right ear was stained darker than it’s left, more chewed up too.  Dante gave in to the urge to compare and contrast.

Yup, right ear was definitely better.  His saliva glands kicked into high gear, and Dante began working up a fine drool.  He held the body of the bear close to him for comfort.  It was good.  It was soooo good.  If only everything in life (after-life…whatever) could be this simple.  A little voice in the back of Dante’s mind told him it could be.  Dante jerked up a little at that thought.

Dante wanted to start humming Infant Sorrow’s “Furry Wall”, but decided against it.  Humming might be taking it too far for the Judy’s tastes, even if it was a song from a movie about a fictional rock-star.  He didn’t want to give the Judy’s any excuse to send him back to the Newborn Room.  Almost anything would be better than that.

Dante instead adapted by taking a more meditative mind-set.  His body was comfortable so he could allow his mind to fixate on other things.  The fact that it was comfortable doing something completely ridiculous was a moot point.  He breathed in slowly, and out quickly, focusing on each breath till he had control.  He began to be able to think clearly.

The Saint had lied to him.  Dante had been certain that he would at least be with Lysa, and not mind fucked.   Then again, the Saint never made any such guarantees, only that he would be returned to the main nursery.  The old prick also never guaranteed that the Judy’s would forgive and forget; only that he would be treated as he was from the beginning (like a crawler instead of a newborn) and that the Judy’s would pick up where they left off (but not forgive and forget.)  Dante had assumed- or been led to assume- that he still had a fighting chance in this place.

Dante felt angry. That bastard Jude had played him for a fool.  It would have been worth going back to the Newborn Room if it meant swinging on the bony butthead and breaking his nose.  It felt good to be angry.  Righteous even.  Dante might not have a fighting chance in this place anymore, but Jude wasn’t the only one who’d fight a losing battle to the bitter end.

His reverie was interrupted all too soon by a Judy’s obnoxious chirps and coos.  He opened his eyes.  It was green dress again.  “Looks like Dante’s found Teddy!”  Her again.  Whatever variation on a theme this Judy was, it was definitely annoying.  She came to the side.  “Come over here little guy, Mama Judy’s got something for you.”

Dante had to bide his time, to figure a way out of this.  Best not to rattle cages right now.  Grudgingly, he crawled towards her.  It took him longer than it should have because he was dragging the bear with him in his mouth.  The big clunky thing slowed him down.  “Awww how cute!  Some-one-thinks-he’s-a-puppy“, Judy sang. This gave Dante an excuse to growl, and he took it.

He was  being practical though.  He remembered the comment about “keeping hydrated”.  If he bit down on the bear, the bitch wouldn’t be able to shove a ba-ba in his mouth.  The bear was his insurance policy against surprise attacks.  That and it felt sooooo good to be chewing on its ear.

Green dress dropped something at Dante’s knees.  Dante took a closer look at it.  It was a toddler book, foam padded, thick with only a few distinguishable pages.  The kind that parents read to their kids and expected the kids to teeth on when they were done.   “It’s my favorite book,” the Judy said as Dante picked it up.  “I wrote it myself.  I give it to all my babies when I first get them, and you’re no different.”

Dante wearily turned it around in his hands, examining the front cover.  The front cover had a picture of a baby reading a book.  The book in the picture had the letters “A B C” written on it. The title of the book was “YOU CAN’T READ.”

Dante opened the first page as he chewed on his teddy‘s ear.  The first page was blank.  So was the second one.  So was the third, and fourth.  Dante closed the book and looked up at Judy, still smiling at him.  “Good baby!” she said. He looked back down at the cover and realized that the text had changed.

Instead of the words “YOU CAN’T READ” on the cover, Dante could only make out scribbled lines.  Even the ABC’s on the book had changed to nonsense scribble.  He looked up to the alphabet wall, only to find that the entire alphabet was replaced by meaningless symbols.  The letters hadn’t changed, Dante realized, he had lost the ability to read!

The Judy dangled another baby book in his face.  Dante got a full view of the book before he snapped his head around the other direction.  He couldn’t read the title, but the book had a picture of a large red circle next to a little blue circle.  Oh God!  What had he just lost?  Shapes? Colors?  Opposites?  WHAT?!

Dante yelped and closed his eyes as he scooted back across the pen- leaving the teddy in the process.  He bumped into a tower of wooden blocks- presumably alphabet blocks, not that Dante could tell anymore- and burst out crying.

“Awww” the Judy taunted as he curled up in the fetal position, “wussamatta baby? Did da big bad book scahe you?”  At one point in time, Dante had thought that the three wards of this Judy were all weaker willed than him, that they were suicides who had given up on life before coming here to Limbo.  Maybe they weren’t.  This Judy was vicious.  She wasn’t any run of the mill, either.  It was like she was a specialist in breaking people down to their.  And now she was on consult and apparently giving tips to the others.

He was aware of her presence when he felt her footsteps in the pen.  He heard her declaring both of the regressed boys wet and felt her checking his own diaper.  “Wet”, she said.  “but you all can wait till after lunch for me to change you.”  Neither of the regressed seemed to mind the decree, or even notice their privacy being violated.

Had he really wet himself already without noticing?  That was phase one of reaching the threshold.  Then again, maybe she was lying.  He felt dry.  Maybe that’s why he wasn’t being changed.  Maybe the bitch was lying to him to shake his confidence and make it harder for him to tell the difference between wet and dry.  Make him fail before he actually had.

The Judy in the green dress loomed over him now, with a milky ba-ba in her hand.  He already had milk going into his system, why was she holding another one.   Was she trying to make him overdose?  Was it her intent to keep him constantly milked up so he couldn’t rebel?  Dante closed his lips tight and drew them in.  He found himself flipped over and his behind swatted, forcing him to go limp.  He was force fed the ba-ba as Mama Judy rubbed his tummy and tickled him and blew raspberries.

She was enjoying this.  So was he, (against his will, part of him screamed.)  He had never tried acid mixed with ecstasy, but Dante was pretty sure this is what it must feel like.  Before he knew it, the Judy had declared that it was lunchtime.

Dante soon found himself in a highchair on the far right of the kitchen feeding setup.  Clad only in his diaper, he waited as more babies were brought in for the meal to begin.  Finally, the blonde Judy in the nursery scrubs, his longtime captor came in with the three girls.  Amy; who he barely knew, Midori; a giant rugrat yes- but one he had grown to like, and Lysa; looking physically drained and exhausted.

She was placed in a highchair at the other end of the room, so that she and Dante were as separate as possible.  She too was wearing nothing but a diaper and her naked breasts were barely concealed by the bib that was tied around her neck.

“Sorry we’re late, guys,” scrubs Judy said.  The other Judy’s just nodded.  She was usually late for lunch, anyways.

“What happened to baby Lysa’s pretty clothes?”  green dress Judy asked, sounding way too scripted for it to be coincidence.

“Oh, I gave her a choice,” her cohort answered, also too scripted, “she could either wear the pretty outfit we had her in, or she could wear nothing but a diaper.  She likes this better, I think.  What about Dante?”

“Oh I haven’t even dressed him up yet- good baby” she said as she spooned mush into Dante’s mouth.  Dante swallowed uncomplainingly.  The milk was still affecting him and he was intent on listening to what they were saying for some kind of clue, a weakness, any valuable peace of information.  “Anyway,” she said “-good baby- I figured I’d just leave him like this for the rest of the day.  I’m feeling a little lazy, and he wasn’t complaining.”

Liar.  Dante had asked in his limited capacity for more clothes.  Then again he hadn‘t rebutted…don‘t defend them!.  All of this was just a show of power, anyways.  Dante puffed out his cheeks in frustration, holding his breath and counted to ten so he didn’t erupt.  (Thank whoever he could still count to ten.)

“Good baby!” the Judy feeding him praised. “You made poopies for Mama Judy!”  He had?!  Dante shifted around.   Sure enough, he could feel himself sitting in his own mess.  He had pooped himself and not even realized.  Maybe it was all of the angel milk, or maybe it was some kind of infant muscle memory, but Dante felt himself sliding unusually fast.  The first step towards the breaking point was using your diaper without noticing.  He had been free from the Newborn room for half-a-day, and he was already back at that point.
After a few more spoonfuls of baby-food,  Dante was fed a milky ba-ba refreshing the infantile feelings coursing through him.   Dante was taken back to the play area.  Mercifully, the Judy laid him down on a changing table and stuck a paci in his mouth.  He sucked contentedly while the Judy went to work.

“You know Dante,” she mused for a moment,  “if you were a big boy, you would have eaten all by yourself.  Instead, instead Mama Judy had to feed you in your highchair.”  Dante started to suck harder in exasperation.  He could see where this was going.

“If you were a big boy, you would have asked to go potty, instead of using your diaper,” she continued, untaping the diaper.   “In fact, even if you were a big boy stuck in diapers, you would have been very upset at making such a mess.  Instead you sat in a wet diaper most of the morning, and sat in a messy one halfway through lunch without even a sniffle.”

She lifted up Dante’s legs.  “If you were a big boy, after using the potty, you’d wipe yourself, and pull up your big boy pants.  But Mama Judy has to take your diaper off, clean you up with BABY wipes.  And sprinkle your cute little tushie with BABY powder so you don’t get all rashy.”  Dante grit his teeth onto the pacifier.  Talk about blaming the victim.  Dante couldn’t help any of this and she knew it.  “If you were a big boy,” she kept going, “you’d still be wearing the big boy pants you woke up in.  But Mama Judy has to put a new diaper on you cuz you made a big accident in the last one.  But that’s okay, you’re just a baby.”

She picked Dante up and toted him over to the crib, laid him down and tucked him in.  “You’re not a very good big boy, Dante,” she concluded.  “but you’re a wonderful baby.”  She kissed him on the forehead.  “Oh, and one more thing, baby.” she whispered in his ear.  “The last two milky ba-bas that I gave you, didn’t have any special milk in them.  Everything you did as soon as you got over to my little play area, was all you.  Good baby.”

Dante got no rest during naptime.

He was taken to a different play area with unfamiliar babies around him.  Still the layout was similar enough, and he could point out which ones were the survivors.  They were the ones who seemed to be the most distressed; the ones getting the most attention from Judy’s.  People who Dante didn’t even know were being cracked down on.  He made one mistake, not even on purpose, and now the entire nursery was suffering for it.  Praise the justice of the Divine.

Dante crawled up to a survivor, a young boy, younger than even Kevin who was swearing up a storm as a Judy patted him on the head and walked away.

“Hey, dude,” Dante said as he approached.  “What’s going on here.”

“The fascists have stepped it up another notch!  That’s what!” the boy spat.

“I’d kill for something to suck on right now, but they won’t let me have it.  Says I have to be a big boy!  They want me to say it!  They want me to tell them that I want to be a baby!  Goddamnit I can’t do it, but I’m losing my mind here.”

“I think that’s the point,” Dante said dryly.  Dante had long gotten over children speaking like middle aged sailors here.

“Heh, good one, buddy,” the kid said,  “Name’s Victor, what’s yours?”

“Dante”, he answered.

Victor’s eyes widened.  He scooted back. “You?!”  he pointed, “You’re the one’s all the Judy’s are talking about!  This your fault!  This is your fawt!  Stay away fwum mee!  Go ‘way!” he screamed till a Judy came and picked the boy up, depositing a pacifier in the kid’s mouth.   She smiled down at Dante and mouthed “Thank you” to him before walking away.

Dante had already been blacklisted.  No one would talk to him.  The Judy’s were making it clear that they were doing all of this because one boy had literally stood up to them.  Dante would only be able to find company with those who were too far gone to care. This company he refused on principle. Being surrounded by strangers didn’t help.  The isolation only made it worse.

Over the next few days, Dante knew he was slipping.  His emotions were getting harder to rein in, everything was either ecstasy or misery.   He chewed on the bear more often.  He might be spouting baby talk, but not even the Judy in the green dress could coax him to speak now.  Instead he hardened on the inside, building up a wall of anger to replace his previous desperation.

He did his best to zone out or sulk.  He’d only see Lysa at mealtimes, and each time she looked worse for wear; like she hadn’t been sleeping or had been crying a lot.  She never spoke either.  His sleep wasn‘t very restful either. He kept having a reoccurring nightmare that he had been taken to the Newborn Room only to see Lysa and her daughter, Caroline breast feeding side by side.  Each mealtime was a blessed reminder that that had only been a nightmare.

It must have been a week when Dante was returned to see Lysa.  It was right after breakfast, when he was traded back  and put in a playpen with her.  She looked better rested than he remembered, but her eyes were more sad.  She sucked her thumb, wearing nothing but a purple baby t-shirt and her diaper.  He was matching in a blue ensemble.

She stared at him, and then opened her mouth.  “Me so sowwy Dante,” she said.  “I wuv you.”  Lysa was already at the baby-talk stage.  Soon enough it would be echoing, then babbling, then gone.  A week without him and intense, purposeful, savage humiliation by the Judy’s had undone close to 60 years of willpower and resistance.   He loathed those THINGS more than he thought humanly possible.

“No be sowwy,” he said.  Damn.  It was happening to him too.  Figures.  “My fawt.  Not you.”
Lysa shook her head.  “No.  Not Dante fawt.  Mama Judy.…Judy fawt.”   Dante shook his head slowly.  It was his fault.  The Judy’s were doing all of this because of him.  If he hadn’t been a threat to them, they wouldn’t have taken things this far.  Now they’d obliterate his mind, and everyone else’s just to be sure.

Future generations of Limbo prisoners could expect the same fate if they were successful.  These tactics would be justified as a pre-emptive strike on future Orpheus’s.  All the better to enforce the will of the Lord and serve their Regent.  In a world without ethics, without humanity, this was the end result.  Limbo was becoming a place without humanity; because of his actions it was turning into a second kind of Hell.  Dante couldn’t think of a worse fate.

Then a thought entered his head.  What if he was gone?  What if he wasn’t around to justify the Judy‘s tyranny?  What if he escaped?  No, that wouldn’t work.  The Judy’s could easily chalk that up to as another win if he just ran away or miraculously snuck out the back.

He’d need to give the Judys’ a reason to be afraid.  Not just afraid of him, but afraid of the anger they invoked in him, of the anger that could come from anyone that was treated this way.  He’d need to send a message.  He couldn’t win, he had no illusions about that.  One kid, even one who could temporarily undo a spell that made him an infant, wouldn’t win against the Hosts of Heaven.  If he fought, he‘d lose and he‘d lose hard.  They’d spank him and send him to the Newborn Room; giving each other a pat on the back and a “told you we shouldn’t have given him a second chance”.  That would accomplish nothing

But, if he combined the two ideas….fought his way past the guard and leave Limbo of his own accord.  Bloody their nose and rob them of any kind of retaliation.  That MIGHT just be crazy enough to work.  The only problem was, Dante had a goal.  Not a plan.  Not even something resembling a plan.

Then he saw the Judy packing two diaper bags and readying a stroller.  It had been roughly a month since he had seen his grandparents.  Now he and Lysa were wearing matching outfits again, baby t-shirts and diapers.  It Communion day.  The wheels in Dante’s head began turning.

“Wysa,” he said, “I’m weeving.”

“Whu?”  Lysa said, panic in her voice.  “Dante no weeve!  No go to udda Judy!”

“No,” Dante furrowed his brow.  “Me weeving Wimbo.”

“How?”  Lysa, doe eyed, asked.

“You see.” Dante told her.

“Why?”  she sniffled?

“Mebbe I go.  Mebbe they stop pickin’ on you.” he said as solemnly as he could.

“Wheh you go?”  she whimpered.

“Wheh you think?”  he looked down.

“NO!” she screamed.  “Not theh!  Any wheh else!.”

“Don’t wuh-we.  Not goin t’day.”  He lied. It had to be today.  He wouldn’t make it another month at this rate. That calmed her down.

“I tawk you owt.  You see!”  She said as she hugged him.  They both quieted down as the Judy approached.  Lysa was picked up and strapped in the stroller.   She struggled and squirmed, so the Judy took a little longer than usual.

Midori crawled up, crying softly.  She knew.  Somehow she knew too.  She knew and she saw things too simply to believe the lie.  She sat on her heels and crying, opened her arms.  She signed, “D no go.  I love you.”

Dante hugged her and focused.  “Good-bye Dori,” he whispered clearly.   “I love you too.  I’ll miss you.”  He released her, and the Judy in the scrubs picked Dante up and buckled him in the stroller next to Lysa.  Dante was glad it was her.  He hated Green Dress now, but this bitch had it coming too.

He smiled as he was strapped into the stroller and it started moving into the twisting paths of Limbo. His adrenaline surged as the doors opened out onto the Narrow Path to Heaven.  The music in his head turned up to full blast, stronger than ever.   If he did this right, the Judy’s would be talking about this for eons.  Dante Willis was bringing war to Limbo.

“Wait till they get a load of me.”

Source: http://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?showtopic=34668&st=80

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Dante’S Infanzia Chapter15: The Orpheus and the Saint

Written by: Personalias

Dante dreamt of bright, brilliant colors.  They shimmered in his mind’s eye with the twinkling of a thousand diamond stars.  Hendrix couldn’t top this.  His dreams were a kaleidoscope ; mesmerizing, soothing.  There were no troubles here, no worries, no nightmares.  All was as it should be.  Perfect comfort, perfect warmth, perfect everything.

Dante opened his eyes and gave a yawn.  His tongue absent mindedly probed his toothless gums, the saliva running over onto his chin.  He couldn’t move, that was normal.  He couldn’t see very much. The walls of his cot rose up around him and kept him safe, blocking his view, and he couldn’t pick up his head.  His vision wasn’t focused anyways.  All of that was normal, too.  What was wrong then?  He had felt like there was something bugging him at the back of his mind.

Then it hit him:  He was hungry.  He was very hungry.  He was very, very, very, hungry.  There were no other words.  If he didn’t get fed, something bad would happen, he just knew it.  He hated being hungry.  He wanted Milk, and he wanted his Mommy, and he wanted them right now!

Dante began to whimper and mewl, calling for Mommy.  Somewhere deep in the back of his mind he thought he was doing something wrong.   There had to be a better way to communicate. Then he remembered.  LOUDER!  He cried out louder.  He cried out louder and louder until he couldn’t even remember why he started crying!  HUNGRY!  That was it!  MILK!

After forever, he saw Mommy.  She smiled at him, and made shushing noises.  Dante suddenly felt cold as Mommy unwrapped him.  He couldn’t pick up his head, but he felt his diaper become more slack as Mommy.  Then he felt the cold baby wipes washing him all over.

No Mommy!  He didn’t want a diaper change.  Even if he needed one, that wasn’t what had been bothering him.  Dante redoubled his crying, though no tears came forth!  He wanted Milk!  Milk, Mommy, Milk!  Dante was only vaguely aware as the new diaper was put on him.  He wanted Milk!

Mommy wrapped him back up and picked him up.  At least now she was holding him.  That was a step in the right direction.  Then Dante felt the nipple brush against his cheek.  He latched on and began greedily sucking down Mommy’s Milk!  Joy!  Rapture!  The Highest of Highs!  This is what it meant to be alive.

Danted started to calm down as he suckled and Milk slid down his throat.  Dante began to make soft little animal sounds as he nursed, and was rewarded with Mommy stroking the back of his head.  He couldn’t love Mommy more than he did right then at her breast.  He couldn’t love anyone more right then.  This was Heaven.

He mewled in protest again as Mommy switched him over to her other breast, but the absence of Milk was mercifully short lived.  This was all he needed.  Just this.  This perfect little moment reverberating throughout all eternity.

Finally, he was full and he stopped suckling.  Mommy was making happy noises; she liked it too.  “Guh deeter!” she told him.  “Susha guh deeter!”.  Dante didn’t know what those noises meant, but he liked the way they made him feel.

Mommy started gently patting Dante’s back, and a funny sound came out of his mouth.  He didn’t mean to make the sound, but it seemed to make Mommy happy.  He made them again and again, and when he finally ran out of funny sounds, Mommy rocked him in her arms and Dante drifted off to sleep.

Dante dreamed.

Dante dreamt of bright, brilliant colors.  They shimmered in his mind’s eye with the twinkling of a thousand diamond stars.  Hendrix couldn’t top this.  His dreams were a kaleidoscope ; mesmerizing, soothing.  There were no troubles here, no worries, no nightmares.  All was as it should be.  Perfect comfort, perfect warmth, perfect everything.

Dante opened his eyes and gave a yawn.  His tongue absent mindedly probed his toothless gums, the saliva running over onto his chin.  He couldn’t move, that was normal.  He couldn’t see very much. The walls of his cot rose up around him and kept him safe, blocking his view, and he couldn’t pick up his head.  His vision wasn’t focused anyways.  All of that was normal, too.  What was wrong then?  He had felt like there was something bugging him at the back of his mind.

Then it hit him:  He was hungry.  He was very hungry.  He was very, very, very, hungry.  There were no other words.  If he didn’t get fed, something bad would happen, he just knew it.  He hated being hungry.  He wanted Milk, and he wanted his Mommy, and he wanted them right now!

Dante began to whimper and mewl, calling for Mommy.  Somewhere deep in the back of his mind he thought he was doing something wrong.   There had to be a better way to communicate. Then he remembered.  LOUDER!  He cried out louder.  He cried out louder and louder until he couldn’t even remember why he started crying!  HUNGRY!  That was it!  MILK!

After forever, he saw Mommy.  She smiled at him, and made shushing noises.  Dante suddenly felt cold as Mommy unwrapped him.  He couldn’t pick up his head, but he felt his diaper become more slack as Mommy.  Then he felt the cold baby wipes washing him all over.

No Mommy!  He didn’t want a diaper change.  Even if he needed one, that wasn’t what had been bothering him.  Dante redoubled his crying, though no tears came forth!  He wanted Milk!  Milk, Mommy, Milk!  Dante was only vaguely aware as the new diaper was put on him.  He wanted Milk!

Mommy wrapped him back up and picked him up.  At least now she was holding him.  That was a step in the right direction.  Then Dante felt the nipple brush against his cheek.  He latched on and began greedily sucking down Mommy’s Milk!  Joy!  Rapture!  The Highest of Highs!  This is what it meant to be alive.

Danted started to calm down as he suckled and Milk slid down his throat.  Dante began to make soft little animal sounds as he nursed, and was rewarded with Mommy stroking the back of his head.  He couldn’t love Mommy more than he did right then at her breast.  He couldn’t love anyone more right then.  This was Heaven.

He mewled in protest again as Mommy switched him over to her other breast, but the absence of Milk was mercifully short lived.  This was all he needed.  Just this.  This perfect little moment reverberating throughout all eternity.

Finally, he was full and he stopped suckling.  Mommy was making happy noises; she liked it too.  “Guh deeter!” she told him.  “Susha guh deeter!”.  Dante didn’t know what those noises meant, but he liked the way they made him feel.

Mommy started gently patting Dante’s back, and a funny sound came out of his mouth.  He didn’t mean to make the sound, but it seemed to make Mommy happy.  He made them again and again, and when he finally ran out of funny sounds, Mommy rocked him in her arms and Dante started to drift off to sleep.   Dante heard a voice.  Screaming.



Then another voice.  It sounded a lot like Mommy’s voice.  But that was impossible.  Mommy was holding him.

“Bad Bay Bee!  Bad Bay Bee!  Maw Maw Joo Dee Spank!”

Then the loud noise stopped.  Good.  Dante drifted off to sleep.

Dante dreamed

Dante dreamt of bright, brilliant colors.  They shimmered in his mind’s eye with the twinkling of a thousand diamond stars.  Hendrix couldn’t top this.  His dreams were a kaleidoscope ; mesmerizing, soothing.  There were no troubles here, no worries, no nightmares.  All was as it should be.  Perfect comfort, perfect warmth, perfect everything.

Dante opened his eyes and gave a yawn.  His tongue absent mindedly probed his toothless gums, the saliva running over onto his chin.  He couldn’t move, that was normal.  He couldn’t see very much.  It was dark all around him, and he couldn’t pick up his head.  There were no lights anywhere.  His vision wasn’t focused anyways.  All of that was normal, too.  What was wrong then?  He had felt like there was something bugging him at the back of his mind.

Then it hit him:  He was hungry.  He was very hungry.  He was very, very, very, hungry.  There were no other words.  If he didn’t get fed, something bad would happen, he just knew it.  He hated being hungry.  He wanted Milk, and he wanted his Mommy, and he wanted them right now!

Dante began to whimper and mewl, calling for Mommy.  Somewhere deep in the back of his mind he thought he was doing something wrong.   There had to be a better way to communicate. Then he remembered.  LOUDER!  He cried out louder.  He cried out louder and louder until he couldn’t even remember why he started crying!  HUNGRY!  That was it!  MILK!

After forever, Dante felt something enter his mouth.  Mommy!  Milk!  Dante bit down, ready for Milk to squirt down his throat.  It wasn’t Mommy.  It wasn’t her nipple, either.  Dante bit down on something hard and cold.  Too hard.  It didn’t taste anything like milk either.  It didn’t have a taste.  It tasted like…Dante searched for the word…plastic.

Teeth ripped out of Dante’s gums, and Dante screamed.  He reflexively bit into the thing in his mouth.  It helped him feel better, but not much.  Finally the hurting in his mouth stopped and he spit it out.  It was still dark all around Dante.  No lights.  No nothing.  Dante was scared.  He wanted Mommy.

Something else forced it’s way into Dante’s gaping mouth.  The spoon withdrew and Dante swallowed the stuff.  Eugh!  Nasty!  It tasted like bitter applesauce mixed with overripe pomegranates.  Dante thrashed on the ground, unwrapping himself as his arms and legs regained strength and something resembling coordination.  His head itched as hair grew back in.   Soon he was free of his fleecy confines, but not finished yet.

Memories flooded back.  His mom and dad, the party, his death, Limbo, the Judy’s, the survivors, Jamal, anchors, and Lysa.  Lysa!   Dante looked around, and his eyes adjusted to the dark.  He was sitting on a baby blanket in a very large diaper- even for this place.  By his left leg, sat the teething ring that he had just bitten down on moments ago.   Where was he?  Where was Lysa?

“LYSA!”, Dante called out.

“The girl is not here.” A voice quietly answered back from the darkness.  “Do not worry.  She is well.  A bit fussy, perhaps, but well; and very much her worldly self.”  The voice was calm, almost friendly but very formal.  Old.  Definitely old.  There was a strength to it, though.  More like a quiet confidence.

A light shined down out of the darkness.  It wasn’t blinding, or even “Heavenly”, more like someone just turned a low hanging ceiling light on in a warehouse.  Even so, Dante winced and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the new  stimulus.

Standing in the middle of the light, was an old man wearing white robes.  His hair was white, with most of his face covered by a thick beard.  Not quite a Santa Claus look, but close.  His skin was tan and rough, like he had spent years in the sun.  It might have been leather.  A golden rope held his robe together, and his feet were adorned in leather sandals.

With a snap of his fingers, his clothes began to move.  They twisted and turned around his body, while he remained still.  They stretched in places and titled and others.  Their texture reshaped and their color darkened and shifted.  Before Dante knew it, the robes had reshaped themselves completely.   Now the geezer was dressed in a red turtleneck sweater, a pair of slacks, and a black leather belt with a gold buckle.  The sandals, for whatever reason, still remained.
The old man reached into the darkness and pulled a wicker chair from it, setting it down.   He groaned slightly as he sat down.  “I hope you don’t mind if I sit.” the old man said.  “I won’t object if you stand.”

Dante sat there, flabbergasted.  “Uh, I don’t think I can.”  he told the old man.

“Nonsense,” the old man waved his hand, and made a cross,  “in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, you may stand for as long as we are having this conversation.  Even Midori could stand if I allowed it, now.”

“No, I mean…eh,  I don’t think I CAN walk.”  Dante pointed down to the scaled up newborn diaper that hugged his hips.  His legs were spread so far apart by the bulk that crawling would be a challenge at this point.

“Ah, yes.”  The old man observed.  “I see what you mean.”  The old man stood up, reached into the darkness and had a relatively thinner diaper and tub of baby wipes in his hand when it next came into the light.  Not feeling at all in control of the situation, Dante just laid down as the old man went to work.

He wasn’t as skilled as the Judy’s; clearly he hadn’t had the millennia of practice they had, but he knew what he was doing.  Dante didn’t take the time to feel embarrassed.  For once he was genuinely grateful to be changed.  He never thought he’d be happy to be in the regular scale diapers, but he was.

He waited till the old man had retaken his seat, the baby wipes and used diaper being reclaimed by the darkness, and stood up on his two feet.  It was still awkward standing and talking to a fully clothed man while wearing nothing but a diaper.

“Can I have some clothes too?” Dante asked.

“It is not yet decided if you’ll need clothes anymore,” the geezer spoke.  It didn’t sound like a threat, merely a statement of fact.  That unnerved Dante more.  Dante waited till it became clear that the old man would not speak.

“Who are you?”  Dante asked after a brief silence.  The old man looked confused, then offended.  Then he leaned forward in his wicker chair; his chin resting in his hand.  It was as if he were sizing Dante up.  Finally, he exhaled slowly and spoke.

“Forgive my arrogance and impoliteness,” the elderly gentlemen spoke up, his voice raspy with age.  “I am Saint Jude, Regent of Limbo until the end of days.

That was a new one.  “Do you run this place?”  Dante asked.

“Of course, lad.” the priestly man replied.  “Why do you think the angels here are all named Judy?”  He laughed dryly.  “They took the names themselves, without any urging on my part, I assure you.”  A guy named Jude running a place just outside of Heaven; every angel named Judy.  Worse yet, wasn’t St. Jude the name of that children’s cancer hospital that always advertised in the movie theatres?  Dante wouldn’t have believed it if not for all that he had already been through.

“What are you the Saint of?”, Dante asked.  It came off as more of a “Oh yeah?!  Prove it!” than initially intended.  The Milk of Human Kindness must still be in his system, messing with his emotions.  The Saint didn’t seem to notice though.

“Lost causes, among other things,” Jude answered.  He folded his hands in his laps, waiting for further questions.  Dante didn’t not keep him waiting.

“Lost causes?”  Dante questioned.  “Like…?”  Dante let the question hand in the air.

“Fighting the good fight, even though you know you’ll lose.” Saint Jude lectured like an old professor who had given this lecture too many times to count.  “Crusades, martyrdom-”

“Treating dead kids like babies so they don’t go to Hell?”  Dante interrupted.  It was rude to interrupt, especially when this guy clearly held all the cards, but something about him got under Dante’s skin.  It figured that a Saint would have a “Holier than Thou” attitude about him.

There was a long pause.  Saint Jude didn’t even blink, didn’t even shift his weight.  Finally, he said  “Precisely.”

“Why?”  Dante wanted to know.

Jude nodded his head, as if Dante had asked the correct question.  “Because,” he said, “even though everyone deserves to go to Hell for their sins, no one should go there if it can at all be avoided.”

“So you built this place, instead.” Dante concluded.  Saint Jude looked genuinely tickled by this.

“Built it?”  the Saint laughed more hardily this time.  He slapped his knee and tapped his foot as though Dante had said the most amusingly ridiculous statement ever. “No, my dear boy.  No.  I am Limbo’s Regent, not its architect.”  The old man slumped his shoulders slightly.  He looked tired.  “I don’t even rule this place as much as I”, he let out a weary sigh, “manage it.  But yes, I am the one responsible for your current plight.”

Dante said nothing in response to this.  He just listened.  It was this stranger’s turn to talk for the moment.

“This place was originally nothingness.” Jude went on, his wizened arms spread wide to indicate the vastness of it all.  “A between spot that was a barrier between creation and the hereafter.  Then it became a haven for infant souls- innocent souls that had not had the original sin of Adam and Eve washed away.”  He leaned forward a little bit,  “It was intended to stay that way, for the poor innocent babes that fell through the cracks.”

“Sadly,” the old man said as he leaned back in his chair, “mankind has been plagued with a dearth of good judgment ever since the Garden.  Slowly, over the millennia, Mankind has sought to increase their childhood, and delay their responsibilities.  The descendants of Seth that spread to what you call America are particularly guilty of this.  It’s ironic that they still make up a decent majority of the faithful.”

Dante took this all in, but Saint Jude paid no mind.  The old man just went on, more talking to himself than to Dante at present.

“There was a time,” the old man continued, “when you were a boy as soon as you could coherently confess your sins, and a man as soon as your second set of hair started growing in.”  The old man’s face shriveled up in what might have been disgust.  It was hard to read his features.  “Now, you’re all practically infants till you’re eighteen- hardly accountability or responsibility at all!  Even after that, you’re still children!”  He let out something between an exasperated sigh and a growl.

“And that’s why you treat us like babies?” Dante asked, more curious than anything; though that element of resentment still lingered.

The Saint‘s features softened. “You are treated like infants,” he said, “because it was the one concession the Creator demanded of me when I proposed providing this service,”  he gestured around indicating Limbo itself.  “Besides that, it’s appropriate, don’t you think?”  Dante tiled his head in question.

“So many of you were ruled by your baser impulses before,”  Saint Jude started to list off on his fingers. “Food, drink, sexual pleasure, leisure, sloth, a sense of entitlement, and the personal fable running through your mind that told you your elders didn’t understand you despite your obvious brilliance.”  The old man bobbled his head in mock inspiration.  “It’s only fair that these things all become the elements of your cage.”

Dante felt his face getting hot.  How dare this old fucker lecture him!  Yeah he wasn’t perfect, and had made a lot of mistakes.  Hell, from an objective level Dante even agreed a little, but that didn’t mean the high and mighty snob could rub it in his face.

The Saint must have seen Dante‘s expression.  “It’s not as if you’re treated poorly, here,” he said.  “Limbo is no Heaven, mind you, but what would be the point of Heaven if it was?”

“No Heaven?” Dante spat, “I shit myself when I got here.”

The old man chuckled.  That caught Dante off guard.  “Everyone soils themselves after they die,” Saint Jude told Dante.  “The saved are bathed in heavenly oils, wrapped in silken robes, and a crown placed upon their heads.  You were cleaned and diapered, with the knowledge that you would continue to make a mess of things time and time again.” (A poop joke, ha-ha, very funny.)  “The damned, I imagine are just left to stew in it.”

Dante rolled his eyes.  What was the point of all this?  “Why are we even talking?”

“There’s the question I was waiting for!”  Saint Jude pointed at Dante, his eyes lighting up.  He rubbed his hands together.  “The true heart of the matter.  Why did the Judy’s attack you?  Why were you even able to stand when it is fact that no denizen of Limbo may do so?”

Uh oh.  The codger had suddenly gotten a little too excited for Dante’s liking. “Yeah…why?” Dante asked hesitantly.

“You child,” the geezer smiled, “are an Orpheus.”   He said this as if it were obvious and well known.  He might as well have said “You have brown hair,” or “You’re a male.”  Dante just stood there, trying to comprehend the words that had passed the old man‘s lips.  There was a long silence before the Saint deigned to explain.

“God made man in his own image,” Jude finally said.  “Do you think that means God has two arms, two legs, and a head?”  Dante shook his head.  Frankly, he had never really thought much about what God looked like,  but he knew what answer Jude was looking for.  Dante knew a straw man question when he heard it.

“No,” Saint Jude stated firmly, “but he did gift us each with a bit of the Divine Spark, free will.  Every human has the ability to make their will manifest, to create or destroy for no other reason than it is their desire to do so, much like God.

“Sadly,” he went on like a professor who had just turned the page in a dusty textbook, “they lack perspective.  Too often, man will favor their own will over anyone else’s-even the Creator’s.  They try to become gods unto themselves.”  He looked up at Dante.  “If you know even the basics of the Word, you know what happened to the first being that tried to be equal to God.”  He shook his head sadly and clicked his tongue,  “Poor self-righteous Devil.”  Wow, this guy must be a Saint.  He was actually showing sympathy for the Devil.

“What does that have to do with me?” Dante asked, missing the point.

“You’re an Orpheus,”  Jude restated. “You’re a human with enough will and passion to defy even God’s edicts, if only temporarily.”

Dante gasped.  He the chosen one?  He was Keanu Reeves? He was the Matr-

“Don’t look so cocky, boy.” the old man scowled, interrupting Dante’s train of thought. “Anyone can do it.  Most just don’t.  They never figure it out.”  He shrugged, more to himself than to Dante.  “It typically starts with an emotional conduit or form of expression.”

“Like singing.”  Dante stated this just as Jude had stated the Orpheus comment.  It wasn’t a question.  It was fact.

“Yes,” Jude conceded, “like the original Orpheus.  Man went into Hell and coerced the Infernal Triumvirate into giving him his wife back with the condition of proving his love and trust by not looking back before he left Hell.”

“He looked back”, Dante finished, remembering the old Greek Myth.

Jude nodded, his hands folded in his lap. “It’s what happens when man becomes a god unto himself.  He trusts only himself, and loves himself above all others.”  He cleared his throat as if he were uncomfortable about what he was to say next.  “What the story fails to mention anymore is that afterwards, the Orpheus decided women were too much trouble, and spent the rest of his life laying with boys.  Ruins the romanticism of the account, I know, but it’s the truth.  Humans are capable of great and petty things.”

“I bet you’ve had this talk with a lot of singers.”  Dante changed the subject and allowed himself a nervous chuckle.

“Not as many as you might think.”  the old Saint answered,  “It doesn’t have to be singing either.  Any creative form of expression will do”, the geezer started looping in a circle, showing an imaginary list that went on and on and on.

“Preaching, writing, painting, sculpting- even particularly barbed insults or clever lies will do.  You were not marked as an Orpheus because of your talent.  You were marked because you managed to defy God’s decree that the inhabitants of Limbo will be as infants in that they may not stand or walk.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Dante said defensively.

“I’m aware.”  Jude replied.  “That is why we are having this talk and you’re not sleeping in a cradle till the end times…yet.”

“Yet?”  Dante did not like where this was going.

“You only have this second chance as a courtesy,”  Saint Jude summarized.  “Around here, ignorance is still just barely an excuse.  So I have seen fit to remove you from the Newborn Room.  From now until you prove otherwise,” he continued, “your treatment in Limbo shall be as it has always been.”

“BUT,” he added with emphasis, “if you are to be returned to the crèche, where your Lysa waits for you, then you must never sing again.”  the old man paused to let it sink in.  “If you break this arrangement, you shall be subdued and returned to the Newborn Room for all time.

Dante didn’t know how to feel.  He’d get to see Lysa again, but he was forbidden his music.  “But singing is one of the ways that I stay…well….me!” he pleaded.  “It’s how I came back to myself the first time.”

“I am aware.” the old man grunted.  “I am also certain that the Judy’s would prefer to pick up where they left off and make sure there’s not a second time that you come back to yourself.”  He drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair.   “Some, I’ve heard, would even prefer that you not be given this second chance and be returned to the cots and swaddling clothes immediately.”  Dante opened his mouth to speak, but the old man waved him off with a gnarled hand.

“Don’t worry, that will not happen until you provoke it.”

“But what if,”  Dante paused, “without my singing, I regress again?

“Then you shall be innocent, loved, and cared for.” Saint Jude replied, starting to lose patience but remaining neutral in tone.  “All will be well.”

“But I don’t want that!”  Dante raised his voice and took a half-step forward, only now remembering that he was still diaper-clad.

Saint Jude did not react.  “Then I will pray that your connection with the girl is strong enough to sustain you; or that you develop a new connection that does not defy the Creator.”  He stood up from the wicker chair and pushed it back into the darkness.  He turned as if to leave.  Oh fuck this!  They weren’t done talking yet!

“This isn’t fair!” Dante yelled,  “You might as well sentence me to Hell!”  The old man stopped and turned around.  His sweater and slacks reshaped themselves into flowing white robes.  He marched up to Dante and stared the boy right in the eye.

“If you had even glimpsed the torments of the pit, you would not dare say that!” the Saint whispered.  “And as for fair?” his voice gained a little volume.  “You know what’s not fair?  Postponing your eternal reward earned from a lifetime of devotion and martyrdom so that spoiled children may evade the flames of the inferno!”  His voice was booming now.  “So long as I am Regent of this realm, I may not enter Paradise!”  The echo of this voice thundered in Dante’s ear.

“MEANWHILE!” he boomed,  “I MUST ENDURE LISTENING TO WHINING BRATS A FRACTION OF MY AGE AND THEIR PROTESTS- BECAUSE THEY ARE WELL CARED FOR BUT HAVE LOST THE PRIVELEGE TO WIPE THEMSELVES!”  Dante swore he saw a literal flash of lightning in the man’s eyes.  “THAT’S what’s not fair!”  Dante shrunk down, put in his place.

The wizened elder exhaled and stepped back.  His voiced lowered to a whisper again.  “But I am the Saint of Lost Causes.  It is my duty, so I will endure.”   That was all there was to it then.  Dante could either go back to the nursery and try to get along without his ace in the hole, or be sent back to the endless loop of consciousness that he had already experienced.

“I like you, boy.  I do.” Saint Jude said, nodding slightly.  “If you last long enough and manage to grow up a little more, perhaps we’ll talk again.  Until then.” he turned to leave once more.

“Wait!”  Dante called out, more a request this time than a demand.

“Yes?”  Jude turned his head back around.

One last thing was still nagging at Dante.  He knew he had seen the lightning in the man’s eye, heard the power in his voice. “You told me of divine sparks.  Of using my will and emotions to defy God.” Dante began.  “That’s why the Judy’s called me Orpheus.”

“And?”  the old man in the robes let the question hang in the air.

“What do they call people with all of that inside them who don’t defy God and look out for other people?”

“Saints,”   Jude winked.  “They call us Saints.”

Source: http://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?showtopic=34668&pid=560333&st=60&#entry560333

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Dante’S Infanzia Chapter 14: Sunshine

Written by: Personalias

Dante had been close, tantalizingly close to complete mental oblivion.  Having slept through his actual death, Dante found skirting the edge of his adult threshold very similar to what many people must have thought death was like.  As he had lain there in Lysa’s lap, he could feel himself losing things.  Memories, concepts, and words had been slipping right out of him.  Everything that he had was going the way of the dodo.

It was like every bit of knowledge he possessed had been a grain of sand, slipping through his fingers.  As he had looked up from Lysa’s lap, everything was leaving him.  Reading, math, science, history, art…everything.  Even little words escaped him.  He couldn’t remember words like “food” or even “potty”.  Words and concepts like “diaper”, “crib”, “highchair,”, “bottle”, and “baby” were leaving him just as fast, even though he had been barraged with those concepts since he first entered limbo.  He was becoming a blank slate with only curiosity and impulse to drive him.  Near the end, his own name lost meaning to him as he closed his eyes.

But just as he was about to lose himself something flowed into him.  A series of soft and pretty sounds: music.  Sounds that had meaning: Words…no…lyrics.

“It’s a Barnum and Bailey world
Just as phony as it can be.
But it wouldn’t be make-believe-”

Dante had reached out and grabbed at those words, like they were child about to fall over the edge of a cliff.  They had to be saved! Those words had meaning.  They came from a song about unrequited love; about how that love could turn a world of lies and illusion into something meaningful and real.  It was sung full of regret, and sadness.  It echoed of lost opportunities and dying hopes.  It was Lysa’s song.


He still remembered Lysa!  He latched onto that thought and refused to let it go.  Limbo would not take that from him.  It would not take his music from him, and it would not take his only friend in this place from him.  He refused.  They were all he had left that was worth saving.  Lysa’s voice and music leaked into his very being and wove a knot around him, refusing to let go or be cast aside.  With Herculean effort, he held fast to those concepts and began to reel in the rest, like a fisherman dragging up a net.

He remembered the adrenaline rush that singing a fast punk song would give him as he drove, or even just pretended to drive.   He took back the genuine look of confusion and gratitude that Lysa had given him when he first stood up to Jamal.  He recovered the pneumonic device that had helped him remember to “shake it once that’s fine, shake it twice that’s okay,” from “Another Loser Anthem.”   He remembered the time with his grandparents.

Then, much more quickly, he reeled in every other memory, concept and piece of knowledge back into his brain; for his thoughts were not really sand, but an ornate woven tapestry constantly building on itself.  He had gotten a grip with two strong hands and rewove himself into being.

The look on Lysa’s face when he opened his eyes and sang back to her had made it the best day since he died.  What followed after, the pure unbridled joy of victory and feelings he had grown for Lysa being honestly returned had made that day the best of his entire existence.  Welcome back, Dante.  Welcome back.

His decline had been similar to a drug addict going cold turkey.  First came the shakes, then the jonesing, then full withdrawal.  Without Lysa, and his music, something that he could understand better and more deeply than some squalling infant; he was lost.  Now his twin drugs coursed through his veins once again.  With them he was complete.   Now he was a true survivor.  Now he was invincible.

Dante was still glowing with pride and victory when he sat up in his crib, soaking wet as usual.  Even though he had passed the worst of it, Limbo still had sway over him.  He still couldn’t walk, still couldn’t dress himself, and he still didn’t have enough bladder or bowel control to make going potty anymore than a passing fantasy.  The good news was, he could once again remember what was required to use the potty; even if he couldn’t quite remember another more grown-up word for the device.  That put his potty training, he estimated, as a little less than a two-year old toddler, which was more than he could say for anyone else he had met in Limbo.

Dante noticed that his diaper was soaked, but still warm.  That was odd.  Dante had grown used to wetting in his sleep, but typically he was cold and clammy first thing in the morning.  He must have done multiple wettings, the most recent one just before he woke up, he reasoned.

Dante peered over at Lysa in the next crib over.  She was still asleep, snoring lightly as she breathed.  It almost sounded like a kitten purring.  Dante looked on at her. She was beautiful; hot too.  This could have gone on forever, this moment could be his eternity, and that would be fine by him.  Wow.  That was sappy. Was this what love felt like?

All around, the Judy’s started to do their morning chores, waking the infants and dressing them for the day.  The Judy in the nursery scrubs with the bleach blonde hair, their Judy, carried Midori and set her down on the blue-ish grey indoor/outdoor carpet by their trio of cribs.  Midori had just been changed and put into a yellow onesie .  Her babbling caused Lysa to stir a few moments before their Judy scooped her, purple pj’s and all, and toted her over to a nearby changing table.

Dante felt a certain stirring in his nether regions as he saw Lysa being undressed, and he licked his lips a little as the Judy undid the tapes to Lysa’s diaper- proving that he was in fact, sappy love or not, still a teenaged boy.  He scolded himself a little as he slammed his eyes shut and turned his back to the scene.  Damn it, he loved her.  Maybe later they could have a talk about it.

But how do you talk to a girl-one that you genuinely like as a person no less; one that you might even love- and tell them “I think you’re hot and it turns me on when I see you getting undressed.  Still don‘t mind if I watch?”  It was almost easier when Dante was so overwhelmed by thoughts of maintaining his sanity in this place that he didn’t have time to ask himself these questions.  It was, in fact, easier to be shallow.
A few minutes later, Lysa was toted back.  Her blonde hair done up in pigtails as usual, she was in what must have been the least revealing outfits in this place. She wore a purple shirt frilly sleeves,  and  denim shortalls with a sunshine on the chest.  Though she wore no shoes, her feet were covered with matching frilly ankle socks.

Still groggy, she yawned as she and Midori were deposited back into the same crib.  She experimentally tugged at her shirt, as though it were a little too tight.  She managed to look down the front of her shortalls and give a questioning look.

Dante didn’t see anymore as his Judy scooped him up and easily toted him over to the changing table.  Once again, the changing table’s paralysis properties were in full effect now that Dante had his grown mind back.  He could only lay there as the Judy stripped him, wiped him, powdered him, and pulled a fresh diaper up between his legs and fastened it.

A red onesie was pulled over his head and he was laid back down so the Judy could snap it shut.  Matching red socks found their way onto his feet.  But the dressing didn’t stop there.  The Judy pulled a pair of denim shortalls onto him and fastened them on too.  That was a little weird.  The Judy’s were usually super-efficient when it came to dressing the babies.  Yeah, there was nothing wrong with dressing him in a onesie and shortalls; both garments had crotch snaps for easy access, but the Judies typically never left more than a layer of clothing between them and a diaper.  Now, when being changed, any Judy would have to go through two layers of clothing and then a thick baby diaper before they could get to his….his….

Hahaha!  Holy crap!  The Judy hadn’t forgotten his and Lysa’s little “wrestling” match from yesterday.  In their overwhelming joy, they had started giggling and rolling around on the floor, coupled with a series of kisses.  Even babies could become sexually aroused on some level though, and so both had started thrusting their hips into each other in the heat of their passion.

Now the Judy was putting more layers of clothing to between them!  No doubt Lysa had noticed she was put in a onesie as well.  So between the thick diapers, onesies, and shortalls, there were a total of 6 layers of clothing separating their genitals.  As if either of them could remember how to dress themselves!  It was actually kind of funny the lengths that were being taken.

Dante was deposited back in the same crib with Lysa and Midori.  She chuckled and shook her head, looking down at the floor.  Evidently she had figured the wardrobe change out too.

“Okay babies,” Judy looked at them, “be good while Mama Judy goes and helps set up the breakfast area.  We’ll get you some num-nums in your tum-tums in no time.”  She gave a slight warning look as she walked away.  It wasn’t anything too horrible, about the same intensity that a doting mother would give to a mischievous child with a propensity for cookie stealing.

“Hey,”  Dante said to Lysa.  He smiled bashfully, his eyes darting from side to side.

“Hey,” she said back, just as awkwardly.  It was very awkward.  Still wonderful, though.

The morning after was always the problem.  After you’ve had the greatest day with someone in your existence, what do you do?  Duh!  You make today even better.  Dante made the first move and pecked Lysa on the lips before she could react.  Lysa lips disappeared instantly, embarrassed.  Then she reciprocated with a peck of her own.  Two pecks actually; one on the lips and a second one on the nose, like she was dotting an “i”.

They hugged each other and laughed, giggled really.  Both were still reeling in a giddy feeling of victory.  Their laughs became louder as Midori, feeling left out joined the group hug and squeezed tighter than either of them had; babbling nonsensically.

“Love you too Dori,” they both said in unison.
Breakfast and bottles came and went, though the two couldn’t take their eyes off of each other.  Dante’s eyes glazed over as he was burped and placed in the playpen with his friends.  They all rolled around on the floor together, taking turns.  Soon he’d wet and Mama Judy would change him when he got cold and icky.   It was so much fun.  Dante gurgled as he kicked his legs in the air and saw his red socks.  He wondered what the sock would taste like if he could only fit it in his mouth.


From his haze,  Dante’s rational mind poked forward.  Like a drunk who just realized how bad off he really was, Dante forced himself to wake up.  He was still under the affects of the milk of human kindness flowing through him, only now he consciously realized.  Having only too recently been stuck as this state, Dante wanted no part of it at present.

He looked up at the ceiling, he needed to focus on something long enough to come all the way back to his adult mind.  Purple haze came into his brain.  “Purple haze, something something right,” Dante mumbled.  “Don’t know if it’s day or night.” Come on! Power through it!  “I’m going crazy, and I don’t know why!  ‘Scuse me, while I kiss this guy, I mean the sky!”  It was working!  It was working!  Dante celebrated as he sucked on his thumb and goo-gooed in triumph.  Nope wait.  He was wrong.

Dante shook himself again.  He couldn’t let himself drift too much in this state.  Even now he was too afraid of regressing.  He had to gain control.  Then he saw Lysa, her chin down on the floor while her butt was in the air.  She swayed as if drunk. Too.

Lysa.  He focused on her.  Even if she didn’t realize it, she could be anything that she wanted: Bitch, mentor, friend, survivor, con-woman, savior…lover.  She had limitless potential and she didn’t even seem to know it.  New words sprang forth from Dante’s lips.

“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together.
Man, you been a naughty boy you let your face grow long.”

Even abridged, he could feel himself rising to the surface above the milk again.

“I am the eggman”

“Ooooh!”  Midori cooed.

“They are the eggmen”

“Ooooh!”  Lysa echoed.

“I am the walrus!  Goo goo g’joob!”

There!  Dante was himself again.  With Lysa as his muse, and the songs in his brain as his conduit, Dante easily came out of his haze.  He was sober, again.  Check that.  He was just tripping on a better drug cocktail.  His mind cleared to the sounds of scattered claps coming from Lysa and Midori.

“Pwetty!” Lysa cheered while using her entire arms to clap, fine motor skills not being high on her priority list right then.

“Blagagag!”  Midori agreed.  Oh yeah.  Just because he wasn’t forced to act like a baby, right now, didn’t mean it had worn off on Lysa.  Oh well.  She’d come down soon enough.

Thirty minutes later, Lysa and Midori were stuck in the middle of a patty cake marathon, with neither one of them showing any signs of fatiguing.  God damn it!  Did the milk really normally last this long?  Dante had never noticed before.  Being the only sober one stuck in a room of boozehounds sucked.  Maybe next time he’d allow himself to come down from the milk more slowly, after all.  Maybe.  Probably not.

Suddenly Lysa stopped and grabbed at her stomach as she doubled over on her knees.  Her eyes sparked open, suddenly awake.  She grit her teeth and started grunting as she shifted her weight to all fours.  Dante didn’t even need to be told to turn around.

A minute or so later, a positively revolting smelling Lysa crawled up and tapped Dante on the shoulder.  Dante crinkled his nose instinctively, but hid it as best as he could.

“Man,” Lysa said, “I hate it when that happens.  I don’t know if it’s the pressure in my gut that snaps me out of it, or if my butt just revs it up into high gear right as I’m coming down…but it happens.”  She shifted her wait.  “Great.  I think I peed too.  Oh well,” she shrugged.  “If you’ll excuse me.”  Lysa then launched into her patented fake cry, guaranteed to make any Judy come running.

The Judy picked Lysa up and took her out of the playpen to change her.  It took a little longer than usual, due to the extra set of crotch snaps that had to be undone, but eventually they came back, Lysa smelling strongly of baby powder.

“Sorry about that.” Lysa said.

“It’s all good,” Dante told her.  He moved in to give her a hug but his path was blocked by the Judy.

“Let’s check you, Dante,“ she said as she pushed him down on his back unbuttoned the snaps on his shortalls.  Dante felt two fingers probing the front inside of his diaper.  “Hmm,” the Judy concluded, “dry.”  Did the Judy sound a little disappointed?  The angel, buttoned Dante back up and went over to check Midori and declared her in need of a change, too before toting her off.

Lysa’s gaze followed the Judy in the scrubs as she started to unbutton Midori’s snaps.  “You know,” Lysa said, “it’s times like this that I miss wearing cloth diapers.”

“I thought you said disposables were better.” Dante replied.

“Yeah, they are,” she answered, “but there used to be a certain satisfaction at the idea that the Judy’s had to wash them.”  They both had a good chuckle at that.  The thought of a Judy, a Stepford Mommy, having to lower herself to cleaning loads and loads of cloth diapers instead of just.  Then again, the Judy’s were perfect at their tasks.  They couldn’t even get dirty.  If Judy’s had ever had to wash poopy diapers, they probably looked glamorous while doing it.

Instead of bringing Midori back into the playpen.  The Judy came back in and brought Lysa and Dante out of it.  She sat them on the floor, and took her seat into her accustomed rocking chair.  “Okay, kiddos, it’s story time!” the Judy chirped.  The Judy reached behind her back and pulled out a book.  “Ooooh!  What do I have here?!”  she asked rhetorically.  “Oh I love this one!  Goldilocks and the Three Bears.  Once upon a time,” she began.

Great, not even some good playtime now that Lysa was out of her high.  Worse yet, it was a baby story that he already knew by heart.  Dante groaned inwardly.  There had to be tons of baby books out there, new ones being written every year.  Couldn’t he at least have something stupid he hadn’t heard before forced on him?

Around the part about how the third bowl of porridge was “just right”, Dante became aware of a growing discomfort in his nether regions.  Any minute now his bladder would auto-release sending warm urine into his diaper encasing his loins.  Dante took a deep breath and closed his eyes, waiting for it to happen.  And waiting.  And waiting.
Could it be?  Dante needed to pee, that was for sure, but nothing was forcing him to release.  He could actually hold it in for a time.  He was still uncomfortable, but he was pretty certain he could decide to let go.  Then Dante got an idea.  Dante got an awful idea.  He had a wonderfully awful idea!

Dante’s lip began to tremble, his breathing hastened with distress.  Then he started crying out, “WAAAAAAH!  NOOOOOO!  NOT AGAIN!  WAAAAAH!”  Dante began to pat and poke at his crotch, still freaking out. The thing is, he was still dry, and he knew it.

“Ooops,” the Judy said, putting aside the story book, “looks like I checked you a little too soon, huh Dante?”  Dante waited until he felt Judy’s fingers poking around inside his diaper. Then he let loose.  The Judy “eeped” as Dante peed on her hand and yanked it out of his clothes.  Score one for personal space.

The Judy’s finger was still glistening with urine, when she pulled it out.  She quickly wiped it on her pants, trying to hide it.  “Gee you little stinker!” the Judy laughed uncomfortably. “You coulda warned me, little guy.”   Lysa’s eyes widened.  She had seen it too.  The Judy’s were Teflon, nothing stuck to them, least of all bodily excrements.  It hurt, (man it hurt), but Dante managed to stop his stream mid-pee.  He was still pretty soaked, but he had to save a little…just in case.

“All done, yet?”  the Judy asked, as she picked Dante up.  Dante nodded like an idiot.  Dante felt her hand feeling the front of his diaper, once bitten twice shy.  The Judy nodded, satisfied, and took him to the changing table.  Dante purposefully crossed one of his arms over his chest so that it wasn’t touching the changing table as he was laid down.

His bladder ached as soon as he felt the open air hit his crotch.  He wanted so badly to release and finish it.  But not yet.  He had to time this next part just right.  He might not ever get another chance like this again.  The Judy wiped him down before lifting his legs and sliding the wet diaper out from under him.  She balled it up and threw it into a trashcan.

Before she could even reach for a fresh diaper, Dante released and started peeing again, using his free hand so that it aimed right for the Judy.  Epic win!  The Judy was caught dead on in the chest.  Panic flashed in her eyes, followed by simmering anger as she used the unfolded diaper as a urine shield.  The angel nannies had had it too good for too long, and this one had gotten sloppy.  Everyone knew that when you changed a baby, especially a baby boy, you made sure to at least have the new diaper already unfolded before you threw the used one away.  The nursery worker had left herself open and paid the price.  True, Dante had deceived her into thinking he was empty, but that’s besides the point.  Best part was, for whatever reason, her clothes were soaked and she did-not-look-happy.

“Agggh!  Juuuuudy!”  the Judy screamed.  Her red-headed sister in the green dress came, a drooling baby teen in her arms.

“What’s up Judy?” the duplicate asked.

“Would you mind watching my babies for me for a few minutes?  Dante here got a little trigger happy, and…and…” she couldn’t even finish the sentence.  She just gestured to her pee-stained scrubs.

“Sure thing, hon, my other babies are in their pen” the Judy in the green dress replied. “You go get cleaned up, I’ll finish with this little rascal.”   she said as she tickled Dante’s tummy.  Dante couldn’t help but giggle.  Lysa was hysterical, rolling on the floor laughing.  The Judy in the nursery scrubs gave Dante a suspicious last look before turning the corner and vanishing into whatever kind of locker-room Limbo likely had.

The Judy in the green dress lowered her charge to the floor before standing up and taking over where Dante.  “Such a naughty little boy,” she teased, as she finished taping the new diaper on and began, reassembling the rest of his outfit.

“I can’t believe that just happened!”  Lysa said when Dante was placed back down on the floor and free to move again.  “That’s NEVER happened before, NEVER!  I’m sure of it.”

Soon enough, their Judy came back, in an outfit identical to her previous one.  So much for fashion sense.  Dante had given her the opportunity to pick a new outfit at least.

“You alright?” the Judy in the green dress asked her counterpart.  “Need some company?  I can go get the others and we can all do a little group activity.”  The blonde Judy shook her head.

“No, I’m okay.  I’ve got this.”, she said as she drug a large tarp behind her.  “You go ahead.”   The other Judy nodded, and picked up her babified prisoner and walked off.  Their Judy spread the tarp out on the floor.  Next, she grabbed Lysa, Dante, and Midori and dressed them in heavy plastic smocks.  They were closer to ponchos actually.   She moved them onto the tarp one by one and bid them stay put.  They obeyed.

Then the Judy reached into her pocket and pulled out a can of shaving cream.  Her eyes twinkled as she pointed the nozzle at Dante.  A wry smile crossed her lips.


Dante screamed and Lysa and Midori shrieked as a disproportionate amount of shaving cream shot forth from the can.  The Jonas brothers had nothing on this.  HOW DID IT ALL FIT IN THERE?  There had to be gallons of the stuff.  Soon they were covered in it and  were flailing all over the tarp.  They could barely crawl away as they slipped over themselves  It was messy!  It was slippery!  It was…fun actually.

The three of them stumbled all over while the Judy laughed at them.  “Got you now you little buggers!  Now we‘re even!”  She shouted with zest.  This was her revenge for being peed on?  Either she was a better sport than Dante had thought, didn’t think Dante did it on purpose, or heavenly beings sucked at getting even.

After about fifteen minutes of slipping and sliding in the stuff, their Judy declared it was time for them to get cleaned up again.  Both Dante and Lysa “awwwwwwwed” in protest, but having no choice in the matter, complied.

“Didn’t see that coming,” Dante told Lysa while his face was being wiped.

“Me neither,” Lysa agreed.  “Maybe you should pee on her more often.” they both had a laugh right in front of the angel.  For her part she didn’t seem to mind, anymore.  On impulse, Dante jerked forward and kissed Lysa again, on the cheek.  The Judy opened her mouth to protest, but then snickered as Dante spit shaving cream out of his mouth and wiped his tongue with his hands.  Dante made a mental note:  Do not kiss girl with shaving cream on her face.

Midori babbled, pointing to her shaving cream covered face.  Her face had become so lathered up that it looked like a soapy beard.  She pointed to herself and made a sign with her hands.

“Oh Midori! How cuuuuute!”, the Judy praised.  “But you’re not a boy sweetie, even if you do have a bubble beard.”  Was Midori’s sign vocabulary increasing?  Lysa and Dante shot each other quizzical looks before turning to face Midori and applauding.

The rest of the morning went by uneventfully.  They played with puzzles, which Midori seemed to struggle with, while Lysa and Dante were bored to tears.  They rolled a ball around in a circle, and were even allowed some quiet time back in the playpen before lunch.

Finally, lunch came, followed by nap time.  Dante already new what he wanted to do when free play time came around and he got the chance.  He smiled as he fell asleep.

Dante woke up satisfied and dry from his nap, but needing to pee.  Hot damn!  That last time wasn’t just a fluke!  This time he released the full reservoir from his bladder, and allowed himself to be changed without incident.   Just in case though, his Judy had made sure to unfold the clean diaper and place it under him before she even unfastened the wet one.  Good move Judy!  Good move!

Dante strut crawled around the open play room, looking for his target.  Jamal was at least partly to blame for his near baby experience, and deserved a taste of his own medicine.  The best part was, even with his singing all last night, Dante was sure that word hadn’t spread quickly enough yet.

Jamal was dressed today in nothing but a bright yellow baby t-shirt and his diaper was on full display.  Oh perfect!  Someone up there might not have liked Dante enough to grant him access into Heaven, but some kind of higher power must be watching over him this day.

“Follow my lead,”  Dante whispered out the side of his mouth as they approached Jamal.  Jamal, for his part, was all toothy smiles.

“Hello, Lysa!” Jamal said too cheerily.

“Jamal,” Lysa responded flatly.

“And how’s your little baby friend doing?” Jamal gestured to Dante.  Lysa fumed but didn’t open her mouth.   Good.  Let him take the bait.  “Is ickle Dante weddy to suck on his ba-ba and have fun wetting his dipees?” Jamal asked patronizingly, not expecting Dante to respond coherently.

“Oh. My. God.  Lysa!” Dante exclaimed in amazement.  “Jamal’s talking again!”  Dante grabbed Jamal in a rough embrace.  Jamal just sat on his knees, stunned.  “Jamal, buddy!  I was so worried you were past the threshold!  When you started babbling nonsense I thought you were a goner for sure!”  Jamal remained stationary.

“But… I didn’t…I thought…” Jamal stammered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Lysa sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose.  “Well, he’s not all the way back.  He’s still shitting himself without realizing it.”  She patted the back of Jamal’s diaper.  “But it’s a step in the right direction.”

“True that,” Dante agreed.  “Good job, buddy!”

“Wait a minute!” Jamal protested, finally breaking Dante’s embrace.  “I wasn’t the one going over the edge, you were!” he pointed an accusing finger at Dante.  “And I definitely don’t shit my britches on accident!”

“You sure about that, lil’ guy?”  Dante cocked his eyebrow.  “I’m pretty sure it was you, kid.”  Dante sniffed the air and grimaced.  “Uh, you wanna do me a favor and get THAT taken care of.” he indicated Jamal’s dirty diaper.

Jamal started wailing and kicking his feet till a Judy came over.

“What’s the matter, Jamal?” the Judy asked.  Jamal just kept crying, waiting for her to smell the mess he had made.  She picked him up and checked the front of his diaper.  “Still dry,” she declared before patting his rump.  She pulled back the waist band of his diaper and looked in.   “Not poopy, either.”  Jamal quieted down, and was set back down on the carpet.  “I’ll go get you a ba-ba.” she told him before leaving.

“See,” Jamal declared, “I told you guys I hadn’t messed myself.  No way I’m slipping!”

“If that’s the case,” Lysa asked, a smirk of superiority plastered across her face “how come you didn’t know for sure?  Why’d you need a Judy to check you?”
“Later!  Baby!”  Dante laughed as he and Lysa crawled away giving each other a high five.  Jamal was so furious that he didn’t notice the front of his diaper getting warmer and start to sag as he glared at their retreating forms across the nursery.

Next, they approached two of the other survivors, Kevin and Vivian.  “Oh, hi Lysa,”  Vivian acknowledged as they approached.  “Look, sorry about the last couple of days.  It’s just that it always squiks me out when I see someone approaching the point of no return; and with…your rate of success…you know…look I already feel horrible.  Let’s just let bygones be bygones.  You’re welcome to hang with us again if you want to.”  She finally looked at Dante.

“Hi Dante!”  Vivian cooed.  “Go on and play with the other babies, the big kids are just gonna do boring talky stuff for now.” She shooed for him to go away with her hands.

“Actually,”  Dante spoke up, “I wouldn’t mind a little boring conversation, myself, if no one objects.”

“Whoah,” Kevin gawked.  “Dante?  You back dude?”

“Naw!”  Dante rolled his eyes, “You’ve all just crossed over too and have learned the secret language of infants!  Next comes the secret of the universe. Course I’m back, dumbass!”  He smiled cockily

“But how?”  Vivian asked.  “I’ve never seen anyone come back from the copycat stage!  That‘s flippin‘ amazing!”

“Well, you see-” Lysa took a deep breath, looking at Dante.

“Lysa did it!”  Dante interrupted.  “Everything she taught me just kicked in right before the end, and she dragged me back.  She deserves all the credit.  She saved me.”  Lysa’s jaw dropped, and she got a little glassy eyed.

“Dante-” she said, unable to finish the sentiment.

“Dude,” Kevin remarked, “that’s awesome.  Congrats to both of you!”

“You did it you did it you did it you finally did it!”  Vivian squeed, bouncing up and down manically.  “I’m so happy for you!”  She hugged Lysa and kept bouncing.

“How’d it go down?”  Kevin asked after Vivians siren shriek died down.

So Lysa told them the story.   Dante’s break down, his babbling, her holding him in what would have been their last moments as people together.  Her singing to him to say goodbye.  Him finishing the song.  Them celebrating the rest of the day through song.

“That was you?”  Vivian asked in disbelief.  “I heard you yesterday.  I thought maybe they had gotten a guy Judy who sang really well.”

“That has got to be the most awkward compliment I’ve gotten.”  Dante said, rubbing the back of his head.

“No man,” Kevin added, “you were good.  Really good.  If they ever bring Star Search to Limbo, you’d be a shoe in!”

“They call it American Idol now,” Dante informed him.

“Whatever,” Vivian said, “not the point.  So music is your anchor, huh?”

“Well, that and someone else,” Dante answered looking over to a beet red Lysa.

“Sing for us, Dante, you gotta!” both of his fair weather friends begged.

“Well… I don’t kno-okay”  Dante said, his ego getting the best of him.  “But what do you want to hear?”

“Something happy,” Vivian chimed in.  “But actually happy, with meaning, not like a nursery rhyme or something.”

“Forget that!”  Kevin objected, “Sing something wild, something to rage against these angel bitches!  Give them the middle finger through song!  You-can-take-your-Limbo-and-shove-it!” Kevin sang in a bad southern accent.   A song trickled into Dante’s brain from his personal play list.  It was an oldie, and he’d have to tinker a little with the lyrics but it fit.

“I think I can do a little of both.” Dante smiled knowingly, nodding to himself.   Dante closed his eyes and thought of Lysa; how she must have resisted and defied the Judy‘s for decades all while seeming to play by their rules.  Just enough cooperation to keep her out of the New Born Room permanently, but still being defiant in her own way.

The volume in his mind cranked up.   Musically it was fast paced and happy, a song of celebration, but lyrically it was about defiance; a strong contrast This song was about both of them, now.

His muse empowering him, he wove the song like a spell inside him and readied to release it.  He could almost hear the acoustic guitar strumming quickly in the background.  He sang:

“Sunshine go away today,
I don’t feel much like daaaaancing.
Someone’s gone and tried to run my life.
I don’t know what she’s aaaaaskin’”

“Nice,” Kevin nodded his approval but kept listening.  Vivian was grinning from ear to ear.

“She tells me I better get in line,
Can’t hear what she’s saaaayin’.
When I grow up, I’m gonna make it mine,
These ain’t dues I been paaaayin’!”

Lysa, never having heard the song before, only bobbed her head and clapped in rhythm.  Laughing as she drew connections to the lyrics.  Dante glanced around the room.  As his voice carried, he realized, more people were looking at him, even the Judy’s seemed enrapt, their eyes glazing over and their mouth’s dropping slightly.  Dante grinned.  Time to bring it home!  He closed his eyes and belted out the chorus.

“How much does it cost?
I’ll buy it!
If time is all we’ve lost,
I’ll try it!
She can’t even run her own life,
I’ll be damned if she’ll run miiiiiiiiiiine!

He heard Lysa gasp, and Vivian’s scream caused him to open his eyes.  He couldn’t have been that bad, could he?  He looked down at Lysa’s trembling form, on the carpet.  He bent over to get a closer look. She looked horrified.

Looked down?  Bent over?

He was standing up!


Dante crashed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut as a Judy spanked him.  Not just any Judy,  his Judy.  As he tumbled to the floor, he noticed that she had been wearing earplugs.  Why was she wearing ear plugs?  The Judy tackled Dante and pinned him to the floor despite him not being able to move.

“ORPHEUS!  ORPHEUS!” The Judy screamed at the top of her lungs.  In an instant, Judy’s were dog piling on top of Dante. One was even lifting his legs up and continually, manically, frantically spanking him!

Dante could hear Lysa’s screams as a Judy unbuttoned her blouse, exposing her breast.   She got on all fours and guided her breast to Dante’s face.  If only he could sing.  If only he could see Lysa.  If only-

The nipple brushed across his lips, and his lips instinctively latched on and he began sucking down breast milk.  It was delicious!  Dante did not want to let go.  He accidentally released a stream of pee-pee into his diaper. He didn’t care.  He felt a mess squeeze out the back of him and coat his backside.  Didn’t matter.   His vision blurred, and it got harder to see.  So what?  He could still taste.  His gums itched as his teeth retreated back into them.  Awesome!  That meant he could suck mommy’s titty harder and it wouldn’t hurt her.  Dante’s head felt chilly as a Judy brushed some hair off of his head, leaving him bald.

The other Judy’s got off of Dante.  They started undressing him, but Dante didn‘t care.  Clothes didn’t matter, only the Milk.  So he just lay there as his layers of clothing were stripped.

Dante was in pure heaven as the Milk continued flowing down.  He started to whine as mommy had him switch breasts, but soon enough he was suckling on her other tit.  The scary giants around him were all screaming and crying.  Too LOUD!  Too LOUD!  He needed quiet.  He needed warmth.  He needed Milk.

He felt hands touch his diaper, then withdraw. “We’ll change him when we get back to the Newborn Room,” he heard someone who sounded like mommy say.  Dante felt himself being wrapped up in a warm blanket.  He couldn’t move his arms or legs, but he didn’t care.  He was warm and mommy was holding him and feeding him Milk.  That’s all that mattered.

He heard a familiar voice start to yell something weird and scary.  It sounded like a lullaby, like pretty music to sing him to sleep.  Something about paper moo.  Maybe cows.  Cows made milk.  The girl sounded like she was crying a lot while singing it so it didn’t sound as pretty as it could have.  Then he heard a WAP, and the cow song stopped.

The last words Dante heard before his eyes rolled into the back of his head were “Contact the Saint.”

Source: http://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?showtopic=34668&pid=560126&st=60&

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Dante’S Infanzia Chapter 13: Threshold

Written by: Personalias
It had been Valentine’s Day when she had become a woman.  She was 15 and the wait had been well worth while.  Robbie had taken her out to dinner, and a movie.  He had been a gentleman the whole night.  After the movie, he took her out to lovers’ lane.  He lowered the roof of his convertible so that they could see the stars.

It hadn’t snowed that night, so the sky was clear.  It was so still cold though, so they cuddled up close together.  One thing led to another (doesn’t it always), and he started kissing her neck.  Everything tingled.  Everything.  She felt his hands, his gentle touch as he nibbled on her ear.  She melted for him.  He could have asked for the world, and she would have given it to him.  All he had asked was for her to get into the back seat with him and turn him into a man.

She was saving herself for marriage.  That’s what she told her parents, and all of her friends at school.  But right then, she didn’t care.  She was going to marry Robbie Simmons anyway, so it didn’t matter when they consummated their love.  She was invincible.

She didn’t know then that months later Robbie would bail on her as soon as she told him what he had done to her.  Deny the whole thing.  Call her a whore and a slut.  So she said the only word she could thing of.  “Yes.”

Robbie scooped her up in his arms, and carried her out of the front seat, like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold.  Then with a playful growl, he plopped her down in the backseat, hiked up her poodle skirt, and ripped her wet panties off of her so he could go to work.

Nearly 60 years later, it was still not lost on Lysa Strata that it was that one moment that changed the direction of her life, and after life.  She had taken her first steps to claim her womanhood by letting someone hike up her skirt and remove her soiled undergarments so he could go to work.  Now the same thing happened to her every day.  Now though, her skirts were shorter and her panties were thicker; and nine out of ten times it was a different type of wetness between her legs.

Lysa had had many things in life and death.  Beauty, energy, guts, determination, intuition, even brains.  Judgment had never been her strong suit though.  Her judgment was how she had ended up getting pregnant, running away from home, and dying on the street failing to birth her baby.  Her inability to make good decisions was about to cost her again, dearly.  This time, it would hurt someone else, too.

When Dante had first come in, she put on the tough girl act, the Rosie the Riveter.  If this guy was going to turn out to be another Jamal then she was going to make sure he was afraid of her and listened to what she had to say.

Goddamn Jamal!  This was his fault as much as hers.  If anyone in Limbo deserved to be relocated to Hell, it was him.  If one of the conditions of Limbo wasn’t forgetting how to dress and undress, Jamal would have raped her.  Lysa had never been so glad to be diapered as she had on that day.

So she wove her little stories, leaving just enough truth in them, emotionally speaking, to resonate as fact.  She resented her parents, perhaps unjustly so, so she made them the incompetents and villains.  The Judy’s had insisted that Caroline was her sister for so long, that that lie was pie.  And if she had had the courage to kill herself that day, she would have.  Instead God did it for her.  Lysa was tough, a survivor, and this new fish was going to know it.

But then, in the course of a day, something happened.  He got with the program, and actually treated her like a person.  Certainly not like Midori back in her prime.  And the way he looked at her in the tub that first night:  It was like how Robbie looked at her when they first started going steady and he offered her his ring.  After she put out, Robbie never looked at her that way again.

She was going to tell him the truth the next morning, but then Dante came and told her about that dream of his.  The same way she had run to Jorge after her first night in Limbo.  He didn’t want a girl.  He wanted a big sister.  But he kept looking at her like that.  The only reason he respected her was because of the shock and awe she gave him that first day.  So she continued to Rosie it up for him.  More bad judgment.

Then that snake in the grass got in Dante’s ears and told him just enough to unravel everything.  Now she was just Lysa again.  Lysa the failure.  Lysa the screw-up.  Lysa the Liar.  She had almost gotten used to that title.  It was appropriate to how she survived.

Dante avoided her the next day, even when they were put in the playpen together.  He wouldn’t talk to her, wouldn’t look at her.  Wouldn’t even acknowledge her presence.  Lysa had slapped him once, to get his attention.  He just glared at her and started crying his head off.  That had earned her a five minute time out.  Not worth it.

The other survivors weren’t treating Dante well, though.  They had witnessed the break down where he beat himself in the face.  They had heard his wailing carry on through the night.  They knew.  Word was out: Dante was damaged goods.  They gave him the same treatment that he had given her.  Idiots.  Like they didn’t have issues of their own.  It’s not like they’d catch it.

Worse yet, they gave her the cold shoulder, too.  Jamal had acted fast and pointed out how Lysa the Liar‘s plans were backfiring on her again as she laid crying in the fetal position.  Monster. Of course he was glossing over why she reacted by retreating back into herself.  Son of a bitch was trying to go for a double play and get both of them to crack.   Good luck fucker.  She wasn’t much of a teacher, but she had been a great student.

The next day, Lysa had managed to sharpen a crayon to a decent point with her teeth and then jam it into Jamal’s eye before he could react.  That got her another spanking and an all day time out.  That wasn’t good for Dante.  Isolation only sped the process up.

Dante was slipping:  She had seen the signs.  First he started wetting and messing himself without realizing it.  Then his emotions got harder to control and he became subject to mood swings.  The cry fest was only the beginning of that.  If something wasn’t just right for Dante, his lip would start quivering.  Left unattended, he’d whimper and eventually all out cry till a Judy came to check on him.  Then they’d feed him, or change him, or tickle him, or give him a new toy- he started playing with the toys a few days ago-, and Dante would be back to himself again.  Lysa had gotten a front row seat to one of those incidents while she was perched on the naughty stool the next day.

Vivian was seeing it too, but she didn’t interfere; she just went back to her paints.  Selfish bitch.  Why was Lysa the only one in this place that looked out for someone by herself.  Then again Vivian might not realize that it hadn’t always been this way, poor girl.  What was Kevin’s excuse though?  AIDS as far as she knew didn’t make you forgetful or stupid.  Every survivor, had at least one big baby in their care group anyways.  It’s not like they didn’t know what was happening, either.  Did they really think they’d catch whatever was making Dante regress?

Next came the oral fixation.  Dante put everything in his mouth that he could get his hands on.  The Judy’s safety-pinned a pacifier and a ribbon to his shirt so that he’d always have something to suck on.  Most of the time, that kept Dante calm.  Most of the time.

Then came the baby talk.  Not quite gibberish, but people seemed to develop cute little speech impediment as their personalities slid backwards .  Dante was no exception.  “Pwease tawk to me, guys!  Pwease! He had begged as he crawled after a group of survivors like a lost puppy, looking for a home.  Complete and utter assholes.

After that, starting yesterday, came the echolalia.  As the prisoners approached the threshold of no return, they started losing words, and so just mimicked other people and used their words instead.  “Uh-oooh!  Wooks wike someone had a’ accident.” Dante said as a Judy checked his diaper.  “Time foh a change.”   It was bad enough he was turning into a parrot; but the intonation was all wrong too.  He didn’t understand everything he was saying, but got the gist and delivered it as best he could, kind of like a bad Shakespearean actor.

Then came the loss of speech completely; and soon after, came the big sleep.  They’d go to sleep, and when they woke up, they were a baby.  Midori had actually made it till her bedtime, staying awake through naps before she disappeared forever and was replaced by big, stupid, goofy, loveable Dori.

Even with all of this, Dante stubbornly refused to talk to Lysa.  It was like his pride wouldn’t let him.  He’d rather sink into oblivion than accept her help, her meddling.  Had Lysa hurt him that bad?  Was what she was doing really all that wrong?  What were a few white lies between friends?  So what if she lied about who she was and how she got into this little corner of the after-life?  It’s not like she had lied or sugar coated the other stuff.

Then again, she realized, how did he know that?  Maybe she had a little growing up to do.

It had taken a total of two weeks after the massive public breakdown for Dante to get this far. That made it about a month, since Dante had arrived, the cutoff point for most new fish.  The three other big babies that shared mealtimes with Lysa, Midori, and Dante had already crossed the threshold.  They were ahead of schedule.  They must’ve been suicides.  Now they were some of Midori’s best friends, giggling and rolling around on the floor with her.  They fit right in.

But it wasn’t playtime right now.  It was just after breakfast, and the milk was wearing off.  Dante, Lysa, and Midori were all in their giant playpen together.  Ironically, or rather, appropriately, they were all dressed the same as the day they had met.  Midori in her pink shirt with bows in her hair, sucking on her paci and playing with some blocks that their Judy had tossed into the pen.  Lysa was in her too short baby dress, her hair up in stupid pigtails.  Dante was in his baby blue onesie.

Instead of asking questions though, Dante was just staring out through the mesh of the playpen.  What was he doing?  What was he thinking?  Was he even fighting it?  Had he just given up.  Lysa had to meddle.  She had to set things right.  Somehow.

She crawled up to Dante.  As if sensing her presence he tensed slightly.  If he had hairs on the back of his neck, they would be standing at attention, his body language read.  Good.  He hated her.  That meant he was still inside there; she had something to work with.

“Dante?” she said.  Trying to get his attention.  “Dante?”

“Dante?” he echoed back.  He didn’t turn around.
Lysa looked up to the ceiling.  “Please, Lord,” she whispered, not daring to finish the thought.  She shouldn’t pray, here, right now.   If everything was to be believed, what she wanted was going against the divine plan.  No point in asking the Big Guy upstairs to sabotage his own workshop.

“Dante, please turn around.” she said.  It was more of a request.  The kid needed kid gloves right now.  Rosie the Riveter would just drive him away.  Dante, looked over her shoulder, and slowly.

“Tuhn awound.”  Dante growled back at her.  As far as Lysa could tell, Dante was only echoing now.  He was close to the threshold; too close.  She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t try, though.

“Dante, I’m sorry.” she plead.  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I didn’t want you to end up like this.  I didn’t want US to end up like this.  I’m so sorry.”

“I huwt you,”  was all he said back.  Lysa didn’t know if she should take that as a threat or an angry agreement.  Even now on the brink, he wouldn’t actually listen to her.  How infuriating could you get?  Here she was still trying to help him, and even in his own limited way, he defied her.  This must have been how Frankenstein’s Monster felt towards his creator:  Angry and bitter, and driven to spite Victor Frankenstein for the lot in life it had inherited.  But why did Lysa feel like she was the monster, right now?

“Damn it Dante!  Stop copying me and talk to me!  TALK. TO. ME.  You’re not some dumb baby, now prove it!”  Lysa ripped out her ribbons and undid her pigtails.  She always did that when she was stressed.  This was the top of the list.

“Damn it blabble abble abble abble ubble mama goo!”  Dante shot back.  His eyes widened with surprise and he clapped his hand over his own mouth .  Baby babble.  The last stage before the end.  That had woken him up.

“No!”  Dante yelled, “nabba gabba gabba!”  His face turning red from frustration, his hair getting mussed as he pulled on it in frustration.   “Frug ug ug ug ug, moogoo!”  He slapped the mat for emphasis.  In a fit he threw himself on the floor.  The Judy did not come though.  She just stayed in her rocking chair, peering into the playpen and watched intently.


Dante screamed, and cried, and bawled.  But all that came out was baby babble.  A look of certainty and horror crossed Dante‘s face.  The end was coming.  He knew it too.  He rolled on the ground and kicked his feet to try and fight it off, but there was no stopping it.  The death of his adulthood was imminent.

It reminded Lysa of the scene from Pinocchio where the bad little boy was turning into a donkey.  Nothing short of the blue fairy would be able to stop it or reverse it at that point.  She hung her head in shame.  She had lost again.  Another playmate of hers would regress all the way and leave her alone.  She had failed Dante.  All she could do now was comfort him till the end.

She held open her arms wide for a hug.  “I’m so sorry, Dante.” she whispered.  Dante crawled over and accepted her hug.  He whimpered in her ear, scared.  Terrified really.  And who could blame him?  Not Lysa.  “I know.  I know.  Midori went through the same thing.  I was there for her,” she lied.  “Now, I’m here for you.”

His whimpering quieted as she stroked his hair and rubbed his back.  Dante’s adult mind was dying; going to sleep forever.  Time for her to accept it and brace herself.  The world blacked out around them. Time lost meaning. Lysa was vaguely aware of the Judy coming into the pen and then carrying Midori out.  Maybe the angels did have a little mercy in them.  She was being allowed to be alone with Dante in his final sentient moments.

Dante pulled back.  His eyes looked tired, and scared.  He was exhausted.  The sleep was coming.  Not bothering to babble, Dante pleaded to her with his eyes.  All Lysa could do was shake her head.  “I’m sorry Dante.  There’s nothing I can do now.”  She breathed in sharply and held her breath to keep from sobbing.

She adjusted herself, so that she was sitting on her heels.  She guided Dante’s head onto her lap and laid it there.  Lysa caressed his brow as he looked up at her.  Time to give Dante a proper sendoff, to sing him a lullaby for the big sleep.  But not a child’s lullaby.  He didn’t deserve that indignity.

Lysa had never heard of his favorite song before he had told her.  And “You Gotta Keep ‘Em Separated” didn‘t really sound appropriate.  But she didn’t really know any appropriate songs.  Then like a boulder, it hit her.   She’d sing him her favorite song.  Not just her favorite song…but a song about her.  She might not have written it, but it fit.  The last thing Dante, the real Dante would hear, would be Lysa’s song.

“Do you like songs, Dante?”  Dante meekly nodded up at her.  Somehow, he knew what was coming too.  Or maybe Lysa the Liar was lying to herself to make herself feel better.  She sang for him.

“Say it’s only a paper moon,

Hanging under a cardboard sea.

But it wouldn’t be make-believe

If you believed in me.”
She sniffled a little.  His eyelids were starting to droop.  She went on.
“Yes, it’s only a canvas sky,

Hangin’ under a muslin tree.

But it wouldn’t be make-believe

If you believed in me.”
Getting there.  She could see him smile faintly as his eyes closed and her vision blurred.
“Without your love,

It’s a honky-tonk parade.

Without your love,

It’s a melody played in a penny arcade.”
His breathing was slowing.
“It’s a Barnum and Bailey world,

Just as phony as it can be.

But it wouldn’t be make-believe-
Her voice caught in her throat.  Dante lay in her lap, sleeping peacefully.  Good-bye Dante.  Lysa looked up to the sky, hoping no one saw her right now.  She started to blink away her tears.  She’d have another baby on her hands soon.  It wouldn’t do any good to have lil’ Dante see her crying.

Then she heard it.
“If you believed in me.”

Lysa looked down. It was only five words.  Five little words and six little notes.  But they were the most beautiful six notes Lysa had ever heard.  Dante’s eyes were opened.  He smiled meekly back at her, but his eyes had a spark to them.

“Hey Lysa,” he whispered.  “I think I found two of my anchors.”

“DANTE!” she screamed. Tears rained down from her face, and she bent over and showered him with kisses.  They rolled around the pen, giggling like idiots.  Like lovers.  Then they did something more.  If one of the conditions of Limbo wasn’t forgetting how to dress and undress, they would have done a LOT more.  The spanking and ten minute time out they both got for “wrestling” was totally worth it.  Totally.

All through the rest of the day,  Dante’s songs rang out through the nursery.  Some say even the magic that filtered outside sounds from the cubicle walls couldn’t keep it out.  Some songs, Lysa sang along with in harmony, others she sat in awe of him and just listened.  But Dante never stopped singing.  Some say, on that day, even the Judy’s paused and heard something more than just baby babble.

Source: http://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?showtopic=34668&pid=558759&st=40&

You can find more story’s like this one posted on My ABDL Life. The only thing you need to do is to check out this page to find them.

Dante’S Infanzia Chapter 12: Lysa’s Lies.

Written by: Personalias

Dante sat in the stroller, eyes blank.  Time and feeling had decided to take a backseat yet again.   His intellect though was already playing catch up.  It all made sense, now:   The baby instinctively reaching for Lysa’s breasts, Lysa’s death glare at the wet nurse, Jamal’s crack about maternal instinct.  Lysa saying she would never lactate, get pregnant or have her period AGAIN.  God, how could he have been so naïve?  (To be fair, he thought the AGAIN only applied to her period.)

Even the Judy’s insistence on Caroline being Lysa’s baby “sister”, made some sense.  The Judy’s were determined to baby everyone, and no matter what the figure of speech was, babies simply couldn‘t have babies.  That just wouldn’t go with their methods or programming or whatever it was that made them do what they do.  So instead, the Judy’s created a lie, and Lysa went along with it.  But why?

“Lysa,”  Dante said, feeling an ache as his emotions thought to creep in.  “why the hell did you lie to me about who Caroline was?”   Lysa looked deep into Dante’s eyes, her pigtails framing her face.  Her tough façade melted, and she became softer.  Her lip quivered a little.

“I was scared to tell you,” she said. “I thought you would judge me.  That you’d condemn me as some whore who got knocked up and not listen to what I have to say.”

“Really?” Dante asked.

“Really.”  Lysa said.  “I told Dori the truth about me, and she completely turned her back on me. She thought, she was better than me.  She ignored everything I had to tell her; everything that Jorge had taught me before he finally ran for it.

“Without me, or anyone else, she slipped away.  First she started wetting and not realizing it, then she started baby babbling.  Then one day she went to sleep, and when she woke up, she was pretty much like you know her now.  She’s a lot nicer to hang out with now, but I still miss the real her, even if she was a bit of a bitch.”

Dante couldn’t imagine Midori as anything other than a babbling kidfant.  Had Midori once been a regular girl?  A raver maybe, or a bit of a know-it-all catty bitch?  The Midori he knew was such a simple creature.  All she was concerned with was attention, affection, and what she could and could not put in her mouth.  Little things like who you were before she knew you or what was going on in her underwear didn’t matter to her.

“I didn’t want that to happen to you, and it was still the first day,” Lysa told him, “so I lied to make things simpler.”

“Simpler?”  Dante asked.  “What do you mean?”

Lysa’s eyes remained sincere; honest. Her jaw set. “If I had told you that my parents had given me up for adoption when I was little, because they couldn’t afford me, AND that I was an unwed teenage mother, AND that my foster father and foster mother were the ones that were arguing that night…about me and my daughter.  Would you have believed me?”

“Yeah…” Dante said. Lysa pinched his cheek a little bit and gave her sad smile as they were rolled back into the Limbo nursery.  It was just after nap time, and so the nursery was opened up into a free for all;  toys and babies scattered all over the place.

“Well then,” she said.  “That means you’re either a horrible liar, or a really swell guy, Dante.”  Her eyes darted down, the sad smile still on her face.  She was glowing, really.  Well, not literally…but…skip it.  As soon as she was unbuckled from the stroller, she leaned over and gave Dante a peck on the cheek. Awesome.

He was about to reciprocate when the Judy lifted him out of the stroller and shifted him over to his hip; the front of his diaper squishing as she moved him.  Oh yeah.  That.  Lysa was helped out of the stroller, and crawled away to go play.  Dante was carried over to a nearby changing table and was laid on it.

As the Judy undid the tapes, Dante buzzed at having just been kissed.  It wasn’t much of a kiss, just a peck on the cheek, really.  Still, it felt amazing.  With him figuring out how to use the potty today, and then feeling Lysa’s soft lips on his cheek today might be the best –

“Looks like someone likes having their diaper changed!” the Judy noted Dante’s growing erection at the thought of his playmate.  Dante grimaced slightly at that comment, made worse by the cold wipes beings dragged across his groin.  He was aroused because a girl that he liked had kissed him, not because he had peed his Pampers!  (Wait, these weren’t Pampers.  Not Huggies either.  No diaper brand really looked like these things.  Cherubs? Angel’s Choice?  Cushies?  Naw.  Who would name a diaper brand that?)

“Wow, Dante,” the angel went on,  “we made it just in time, bubba.  You were THIS close to leaking.”  She finished wiping Dante, balled up the used diaper (Bambino? Cuddlez? Comfies?  Oh Skip it!  A baby diaper is a baby diaper), and threw it in a nearby trashcan.  “You must be dehydrated, mister.”

Hold on.  Dante could have sworn that not twenty minutes ago, Judy had proclaimed Dante only “a little wet.”  Had Dante really wet his diaper even more since he was checked?  He hadn’t even noticed.  Was everything he gained while around his grandparents leaving him already?  He took his thumb out of his mouth when the Judy offered him up a bottle of apple juice.   (When the hell did he stick his thumb in his mouth?!)

He sucked down the apple juice as his bum was lowered onto a fresh diaper.  How do you use the potty?  Remember.  Remember.  First you need to- his stream of thought was interrupted by another stream coming out of him.  “Whoopsie!”  the Judy giggled as she quickly and deftly yanked the diaper up to block the air born urine.  Most of it was soaked up by the diaper.  Just a little got on the changing table and the floor.  None of it, of course, got on the Judy.

Dante giggled, then gurgled a bit around the nipple of his ba-ba.  He was drinking juice-juice and going pee-pee at the same time.  That felt good. And  Mama Judy was so silly!  She was making those faces at him while she held the front of the diaper down to cover him up.  “Geez, Dante”, Mama Judy smiled sweetly down at him.  “you could give me a little warning next time.”  Dante smiled up at her.  “You couldn’t have done that earlier?  Or at least wait till I had the diaper all the way up?  Oh well,” she smirked, peeling the sodden garment back, “here we go again.”

Something was wrong.  Dante shook himself awake and yanked the bottle from his lips.  He wasn’t even drinking milk, and was acting like a complete idiot.  Going pee-pee while drinking a ba-ba…fuck…urinating while drinking, was something Midori would do, not Dante.  He wasn’t even paralyzed on the changing table, he realized.  He had had almost total motor control while the Judy was changing him.  It seemed anytime he let his mind wander, babyish thoughts and tendencies came right in and made themselves at home in his brain.  He might have had a brief respite by the gates of Heaven, but back in Limbo, he was still making negative progress.

The Judy finished changing him for the second time in a row, and sat him down on the floor.  Dante quickly crawled over to a corner to sulk in peace.  He didn’t want Lysa, or anyone seeing him like this.  The fact that he was dressed like Tommy Pickles, and had no way to hide his diaper made him feel more self-conscious after what had just happened.  If he had been  wearing shortalls or even a onesie, he could have maintained some form of dignity.  Instead, all he had on was a T-shirt that came down to his belly-button, and a bulky diaper on full display between his legs.

Speaking of which, the bulk between his legs seemed a little, well, bulkier.  Was he wearing a thicker diaper?  Were they padding him up because of his extra wetting?  Or worse yet- Dante remembered something about newborn diapers being relatively bulkier- were they getting him ready for the…DON’T. EVEN. THINK. ABOUT. IT.

Dante poked at his crotch and experimentally tried to bring his legs together.  All the same.  No difference.  Just his imagination.  The extra puffiness was just in his head.  Jamal Adams crawled up to his corner of solitude.  As always, Jamal wore his usual asshole smile, as well as a white t-shirt and denim shortalls. (Son of a bitch).  You could barely see where the diaper was unless you knew what to look for.

“Heeeeey buddy,” Jamal said, all teeth, not even trying to conceal his insincerity.  “Hoooow-ya-doin?” he sang.

“Fuck off, dude.  I’m in no mood.” Dante tensed,  “I know what just happened by the changing table, alright.  You can go around making fun of me.  Just leave me alone.”

“For the record, kid,” Jamal replied, “it’s not like everyone just stops and watches every time the Judy’s gather ’round you so they can see you humiliate yourself.”  he paused.  “But yes, I did see it, and likely so did most of the playroom the way you two were carrying on.  Her all cheery and giggly that you were pissing into the wind, and you acting like you…that is to say, a freakshow baby.”

Dante just stared at him.  It would be so totally worth it to punch him in the face.  Right now.  One swing.
“Anyway,”  Jamal went on, ignoring Dante’s death glare, “I just thought I take my time to say my goodbyes.”

“Where are you going?”  Dante asked.  Shit.  He just walked into that one.

“I’m not going anywhere, kid.”  Jamal answered, “It’s you.”  (Told ya.)  When a kid starts acting like well, how YOU were just a minute ago without the aid of angel milk, that means their getting close to the threshold.”  Dante was confu-

“And before you cock an eyebrow and go ‘Threshold?’,”  Jamal interrupted Dante’s train of thought, “let me break it down for ya.  You‘re close to crossing the line, kid, that point of no return.  A few more awkward steps, and everything that you are takes a permanent vacation, and everything that you were circa- I‘m guessing 1995?- takes up residence.  Nice knowin‘ ya kid.”

Dante bit his lip.  He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t right then. He just couldn’t.  Jamal tilted his head, and an emotion that might have been sympathy crossed his face.

“Well this isn’t nearly as fun as I thought it would be,” he said.  He sat against a wall so that he was more or less sitting beside Dante instead of in front of him.  “Look kid,” Jamal said, dropping his arm around Dante all chummy-like, “if it makes you feel any better, it’s not really your fault.  You never really stood a chance.”  Dante didn’t reply or ask.  He just listened.

“I’m guessing you had a relatively normal and stable life, am I right?  Sure I am.” Jamal went on, not waiting for Dante to respond.  “Your parents loved you, you loved them, all that good stuff.  Kids like you?  You don’t last here in this place.  You just don’t.  You have all of these happy, fuzzy memories of child hood.  That way, it’s easier to slip back into those old roles.  You secretly want to, even if you don’t want to admit it.”  He took his arm away.

“Me and the rest of us who survive here- not so much.  None of us had it good back then, so we keep our sanity now.  Take Kevin over there.” he pointed to Kevin, the play-doh kid.  “Kevin died of AIDS, before they even really knew what AIDS was.  Bad blood transfusion or something.

“He was so angry with life that he got kicked out of 3 different schools for fighting.  Funny thing is, everyone was so scared of catching his AIDS, that nobody ever fought back; they didn’t want to make him bleed.  He told me once that he started making the play-doh people when he was a kid to use them like voo-doo dolls on the kids he picked fights with.

“Vivian,” Jamal pointed to her who was even now making an exquisite piece of art using nothing but finger paint and construction paper, “is a genius.  But she has a rare mental disorder that makes it impossible for her to differentiate the passage of time.   If you pissed her off once a year ago, all of those feelings, all that anger, that hurt, is just as fresh to her now as if you had just insulted her today.  Even I don’t mess with her.  I hear the painting helps with that though.  Meh.”

“You know what little Dori was?”  Jamal asked rhetorically.  “A schoolgirl.  An average school girl that had the bad luck to get hit by a drunk driver. But she’s all better now.  And soon you will be, too.”  Midori was busy rolling on the floor and giggling at the top of her lungs.

“And what about you?”  Dante asked.  “What’s your story?”

“I’d tell you kid.”  Jamal answered,  “But seeing as how you just got changed into a fresh one, I’d hate to ruin it by telling you.  Besides, you forgot to ask about your little Lysa.”  Dante’s eyes narrowed. “I saw the kiss.  Good huh?  That kiss means that she has you wrapped around her finger.  Did she tell you that you were a swell guy?  She loves that line.”.  Dante wanted to tell Jamal where he could stick it.  He wanted to punch Jamal’s teeth down his throat, but something made him stay silent and still.

“Lysa’s the oldest kid still sane in this place.” Jamal whispered,  “She’s a true survivor.  Fuck, she might be my role model if she wasn’t a sociopath and a compulsive liar.”  He shot Dante a smile.  It wasn’t friendly.   “She tell you one about how her dad killed her little sister, then she killed him and offed herself in grief?”

“It was her daughter, and her foster father.” Dante growled.

“Oh, so you already caught her in that first lie, eh?” Jamal hissed.  “That’s her favorite.  You must have had her cornered for her to whip out her backup.  If you call her on that one, she does a one-eighty and is the hooker with the heart of gold.  You really think she killed herself?”

“She did kill herself,”  Dante insisted.

“Wake up kid!”  Jamal practically shouted.  Then backed down to a whisper.  “Suicides don’t last here.  They don’t make it a month, yet alone close to sixty years.  Self-haters didn’t have the will to go on in the first life.  Why would they persevere in the after-life?  Besides, she keeps fucking one big thing up.”  He shuffled around so that he was looking Dante straight in the eye.

“When she told you that story?  Did she say she cut her wrists like this?”  He dragged his fingers across his wrist, just like Lysa had.  Dante nodded.  “Where have you been dude?” Jamal said.  “Everybody knows, that for wrist slitting it’s go ‘down-the-lane’  not ‘across-the-street‘”.  He mimed slitting his own wrist downward.  “It’s like she almost wants to get caught.”

He was right.  How had that slipped by him?   “How do you know all this?”  Dante asked.

“Because, kid.” Jamal looked Dante straight in the eye.  “Once upon a time, I was you.  When I first got here, they put me in that playpen with Lysa and Midori and I heard the same lies that you’ve heard.  About keeping control, accepting it, not thinking of escape, fighting it by not fighting.  Sound familiar?”  Dante must have nodded with his eyes if not with his head.

“Yeah, I thought so.”  Jamal nodded.  “New fish always get brought to Lysa, especially the fighters.  Because she cracks them.  By the time she’s done with them, they‘re nothing more than Dori over there.  She destroys your sense of self better than the Judy’s ever could just by babying you.

“I don’t know if she’s a screw up, or plays the Judy’s game so that they go easy on her, or what.  Truth is, I don’t care.  But Lysa gets respected around here because she’s the litmus test that determines whether or not you keep your shit together in here.”

“Wanna know how I passed?”  Jamal asked,  grinning wickedly.  Dante shook his head.  Jamal answered anyway.  “I beat the shit out of her.  When I realized what she was doing to me; that I was becoming more infant than man, I knew I had to break ties with her.  Had to get her voice out of my head.  So I beat her.  Badly.”  Dante’s eyes went wide.  The lump in his throat expanded.  He started to sweat.

“I won’t go into the details, but it was pretty fucked up.”  Jamal grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  “Good thing nobody can actually die here, and the Judy’s can kiss it all better in an instant.  But the real finishing touch?  I bit off her ear and swallowed it.  She got it back, eventually.  Best change I ever had.  Heheh, why do you think Lysa trained Midori to be her attack dog?”  There was silence for a few minutes.  Jamal, a cat staring at Dante as if he were a piece of meat.  Dante, a mouse hearing about salvation from the Devil.

“Then what happened?”  Dante finally asked.

Jamal’s face softened, his grin becoming a thin smile.  “I got my freedom.  The Judy’s whooped up on me.  Put me in time out and did some extra punishments, but it all went uphill from there, friend.  They decided me and Lysa should be separated; so I was assigned to a new playgroup.   Now sure why I’m telling you all this.  Just, you know…food for thought.”  If it was possible to swagger and crawl at the same time, Jamal would have just done it.

Dante sat there.  Stunned.  Amazed.  Disbelieving.  He didn’t want to believe.  But too much of it made sense.    He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them hard, as if they were his anchor to reality.  He buried his face and closed his eyes, trying to shut out his senses.  Maybe he fell asleep.  When next he knew, Lysa was sitting next to him.

“You okay, Dante?”  she asked.  Dante just looked at her.  His vision blurry, his eyes glassy.  Had he been crying?  He couldn’t remember?

“Why did you lie to me?”  he whispered.  Lysa brushed his almost too shaggy hair out of his face and looked him in the eyes.

“Sweetie, I already told you.  It was the first day.”

“I meant today,”  Dante pressed.   Lysa looked confused.  Hurt even.  Was Jamal the one who was manipulating him?  Had he fallen for some cruel practical joke?  No.  “You didn’t kill yourself.  You cut your wrists the wrong way for you to bleed out.”  Lysa shook her head, spasmed really.

“No, I said I slashed them left to right, not up to”

“It’s up to down to bleed out.”  Dante growled.  She HAD lied to him.  She didn’t know the first thing about what she was speaking of.

“Oh,” Lysa paused.  “Then it must have been the gunshot-”

“The gunshot?”  Dante interrupted.  “The one that killed your father?”

“It backfired on me when I went to shoot my dad again.  I was dying anyways, so I slit my wrists to speed the process up.  Make it less painful, you know.”

“You just told me this afternoon, that it was your foster father that you killed.  That’s why your real parents were in Heaven.”  Lysa’s jaw dropped.  He had her trapped.  He had her trapped and he hated it.  Lysa bit her lip and bowed her head.

“Fine, you want the truth?  Here’s the truth: I’m a royal fuckup.  Just like you.  My parents loved me, and gave me everything I ever wanted.  Then I went and got pregnant.”  Lysa looked up.  Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

“I was lucky.  I didn’t start showing till about six months.  By then, everyone in school knew it, but my parents were clueless.  It was…a different time then.”  She wiped away here tears as more came seemingly unbidden.

“I was too ashamed to tell my parents, so I ran away.  I lived on the streets doing…things…things I’m not proud of.”  The phrase “hooker with the heart of gold” echoed in Dante’s mind.  “I didn’t live well, but I lived.  You’d be surprised,” she sniffed,  “there’s a demand and a market for everything, even underage pregnant…” she sobbed a little, not finishing her sentence.

“I died giving birth to Caroline out on the streets.  No hospital would take me.  I never even got to feed her.”  she cried.  “And now we’re here.  Forever.  Because of me she never even got to have a life!”

Dante deadened himself inside.  This was just too tragic to be true.  He fought every compassionate instinct, every impulse to hold her and tell her it was okay.  “You expect me to believe that story?”  he managed to choke out.
“It’s the truth,” she whispered.  “I swear.  The only thing my parents ever did to me was let me choose whether or not I got baptized.”  Either she was telling the truth, or she was a brilliant liar.  No. Nononono.  Fuck her.  She lied to him  She was probably lying now.

She must have sensed this.  “You wanna know what my real anchor is, Dante?” she said wiping her nose on her sleeve, her face beet red.   “Guilt. I’m the biggest screw-up in Limbo.  Not only did I trap my daughter here, but almost every single person I’ve tried to help has ended up like Dori.  I don’t deserve to check out mentally or escape.  I don’t deserve to let go of that guilt.

“I tell those stories and lies about myself to try and help people.  No one wants help from the screw-up.  You feel sorry for the screw-up, but you never rely on them.  Even if a screw-up is saying the exact thing you need to know and hear, you’re gonna ignore them.  I didn’t want you to think I was a screw-up Dante.  I wanted to help you.  And now that I know you, I don’t want to lose you!”

She was baring her soul to him.  But all Dante could feel right now was resentment, anger, rage.  She had manipulated him so that she could feel better about herself.  That no good little bitch.  He had almost fallen in love with her, and all he was to her was a pet project to improve her track record.  “Say something, Dante” she whispered,  “please talk to me.  I- I’m sorry.  I…I…I…I lo-”

“- And you’re going to fail me too so you can have more guilt to hang onto?  Is that it?!  I’m part of your pity party?!”  Dante couldn’t let her finish that sentence.  He’d have been trapped forever if she had finished that sentence.  Lysa just shook her head.  She was biting her lip so hard, a bit of blood trickled out.  “You gonna keep telling me lies?  Distract me till I end up like Dori?  That way you can teach me pet tricks so I’ll bite and cry on command too?!”

Lysa pleaded with him.  “That’s not it at all!  Please….just listen to m-”



Lysa’s hand came right across Dante’s face.  The whole play area stopped.  Silent.  Everyone was looking at them.  There was no covering it up this time.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jamal, smiling, giving him the thumbs up.  Now was the time.  It was now or never.

Dante reared back his hand, clenching it into a fist.  Lysa shrunk back.  “You talked to Jamal,” she whispered, her voice quavering with fear.”  Dante clenched his fist, and closed his eyes, and swung.  His aim hit true.


Dante Willis broke his own nose as he punched himself in the face.  He couldn’t do it.  He just couldn’t bring himself to hit her, even after the truth came out.  He hated her right now.  Hated her lies, her meddling, her stupid fucking pigtails.  Note amended: FUCK. HER.  But he couldn’t bring himself to strike her.  It was wrong.  He was not Jamal Adams and he never would be, even if meant he was doomed to become a baby.

Blood gushed from his nose and his vision flooded with saline.  Lyrics danced around his brain as he continued to brutalize himself.  “I wanna put my tender, heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion.  Rendezvous then I’m through with you.”   Great.  Just great.  Here he flipping out, and the best his brain could manage was Eve 6.   Lysa just staid there, crying, pulling on her pigtails as she curled up in a fetal position; reliving a past trauma she had suffered.

Judy’s rushed to Dante.  They kissed his nose and it healed.  Even the blood was instantly gone.  He didn’t care.  He kept crying.  They checked his diaper and found him dry.  He kept crying.  They blew raspberries on his tummy.  He giggled for two seconds as a wave of happiness surged through him, and then cried harder.

They were forced to treat him like any mother without super powers would.  All they could do was just take turns holding him, and try to comfort him with their presence and touch.  He let them.  He didn’t put up a fight.  If he cried loud enough, the mommies would pay more attention to him, and he needed attention right now.  At least the Judy’s were honest in their intentions.  You knew what to expect from them.

Dante Willis cried all through dinner, all through bath time, and eventually bawled himself to sleep.  He didn’t know whether his tears were that of a whining child or of a heart-broken man.  And that was what scared him the most.

Source: http://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?showtopic=34668&pid=558569&st=40&#entry558569

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