Chapter 36 – Sixth sense of a calling, heard you fuck through the wall.

19 Prairial Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Oliver opened his eyes, but the room remained dark. This was not his bed on Earth, it was not Ben’s couch, Oliver could easily roll here from side to side without once falling to the floor. The room was quiet, with just a soft breeze from outside the house as the only sound in this late hour.

He could feel it, the building tension above and behind his member, a biological alarm had woken him, reminding him that it was time to be a big boy. Oliver jiggled slightly in his pull-ups, feeling the tight but comfortable protective cloth envelop his member. It was tight, partly wet from sweat, and inviting.

“I could just go. This is what it’s for right?” It felt naughty. It felt like surrender.

“I should get up.” The pillow was too comfortable, a mix of warmth and cold softness.

“Just this once it’ll be fine. I can go back to bed.” He did not even know where he was, one minute he was on the couch, the next he was here. There might not even be a bathroom here.

Oliver thought back to the time with Ben, laying down, relaxing, he slowly began releasing his muscles like a handle on a faucet.

Warmth, joyous naughty warmth, a small trickle at a time. After a second his mind sharpened with something Victoria had warned Benjamin.

“Pull-ups leak.”

Wetness was on his legs; it was dripping up through the top of the elastic band. Within two seconds it was in the sheets and whatever protection was between the sheets and the bed. Oliver stopped himself quickly and bolted his body upwards. His hand came down beneath his body, and he felt below his crotch, confirming the warm wetness was in the bed and not just his undergarment.

“OK don’t panic, figure this out, one step at a time. Get to the bathroom, clean myself up, get a towel, clean up the bed, hide evidence if needed. I have a plan. OK step one, let’s get out of bed.” Oliver pushed the blankets away and started to roll, going over the edge of the bed.

He misjudged how tall the bed was. He landed on his bad leg hard. Sharp pain came up through the back of the thigh and Oliver collapsed onto the ground. A small spurt escaped, and he lay there for half a minute before scrambling back to his knees. The small man looked around the giant room. He could not see anything, just the faint outline of the walls, he was not even certain which one was the door. He began to walk in a direction he thought was the hall.

He bumped hard into an office chair. Oliver pushed the heavy wheels away and grabbed along the desk. He followed it to the edge wall and followed the wall to the first thing that felt like a door. Slowly he turned the brass knob at head height, only to see a darker black. Oliver carefully reached in to and his hands found a soft piece of cloth hanging in front of him.

“Closet. That means the door is this way.” Oliver worked his way along the wall, finally finding his target. He pulled down hard on the door handle, needing to practically hang on it to force it open. He felt the shift of air pressure as the hallway opened to him and he stepped into the darkened portal.

Oliver slowly continued his journey through the hall, increasing pressure coming from his strained member he had stopped mid release. The warm wetness in his pants had receded, becoming more like a damp cloth, but his legs still had a stickiness where urine had escaped. Oliver bumped into an armoire, the wooden structure rattled and created a loud hump. He paused for ten seconds; unsure if he had woken anyone. The house still seemed quiet. He kept one hand on the cupboard, and carefully continued his journey, eventually finding the wall.

After another twenty feet he found it. The door, soon he would have relief. Oliver put weight into the handle and carefully turned it. He got a small crack open and pushed the mammoth door enough to force himself through.

It was not the bathroom.

They were large, moving like giraffes, they cast long shadows to the door in the soft lights. There were loud, heavy guffs of air, and bits of braying. The wooden floor under Oliver’s barefoot feet was shaking in time with their movements.

Benjamin was not engaged in some methodical dance. He was an animal, moving quickly in and out of his prostrate and eager wife. Oliver could see Victoria’s bouncing orbs move in sync, those same globes he had gotten to know so intimately just hours before.

It was too much for Oliver. He lost his breath, and with it, his hold down below. A fresh spring cloudburst sprayed, reflected back onto him, and soaked into his undergarment. It sloshed, coating his manhood, and slowly absorbed into the overused padded insides. Oliver watched as Benjamin reared up slightly, his whole body going stiff and then collapsing, his new dad’s breathing became long and heavy.

Victoria crawled up to Ben, cradling his body and head. She started whispering in his ear. Benjamin did not seem to move, but Victoria locked eyes on Oliver. The smaller man shook, unsure if he should try to leave. Victoria pointed at him with a finger over Ben’s shoulder and continued to speak into the man’s left ear.

She smiled and curled the finger, a temptress inviting Oliver to the bed. Oliver carefully walked towards it, trying to keep his pants from leaking. He got to the far edge of the bed and stared up at Ben and Victoria.

Benjamin’s eyes were open, along with his mouth, but the man did not seem to see Oliver, his attention was towards the wall. His whole body was slack and kneeling, his arms were loose and heavy at his sides. Victoria leaned over and offered Oliver a hand up. Oliver carefully bounced along the crumbled bedspread until he came up to his ersatz parents.

“Is he OK?” Oliver was concerned. He had seen Ben in pain, even unconscious, but this looked like he had suffered a stroke.

“You wanted to be Jane Goodall, hmm?” Victoria spoke flatly, not attempting to be quiet, “I suppose I can let you in on a secret, no secrets exist between mommy and baby.”

Oliver touched Ben’s knee, but the man did not respond, Oliver looked over at Victoria.

“He’ll be out of it for a couple minutes. When he’s like this he’s quite… suggestable.”

Oliver looked at the woman, then Ben.

“Go on, ask him for something.” Victoria then chuckled.

“Dad?”

Ehhh, came the response from Ben.

Oliver was not even sure what he wanted, so he went to the first thing that popped in his head, “Can I get a bike?” He almost hit himself with how childish and stupid it sounded. He was a grown man; he should not be asking for toys.

“Sure, son.” Benjamin made no change to his body.

“Woah,” Oliver breathed, “Um, can I watch some adult Tee Vee? Like eX rated stuff?”

“Ask your mother,”

Oliver gave a face, scrunching his teeth and cheek in incredulity. What was the point of hypnosis if there were limits? He turned to Victoria, “You know, the boys have something like this too.”

She rolled her eyes, “Sure they do Oliver.” She took a long look at Oliver’s underpants, recognizing immediately the wetness indicator had vanished. “Go ahead and watch your dad for a few minutes.”

Victoria left the room. Oliver thought about sitting, but it did not seem appropriate in his wet garments. He came closer to Ben, confused about the state of the man. Oliver’s mind began to wonder through the possibilities. This had to be a result of copulation, not just enjoyment. They had not tested too much with the men they had kidnapped and brought to Earth, there was no indicator they would enter a state like this. If anything, Amazons did not seem particularly interested in the pleasures of flesh. It was difficult to rouse them, and they quickly lost interest.

Oliver carefully poked at Ben’s knee. The large man blinked heavily and then turned his head down to look at his boy. Oliver looked at his father’s pale face in the minimal light of the bedroom, his eyes seemed still distant, but his mouth turned up into a bright smile. A heavy hand came down on Oliver’s shoulder, causing his feet to sink into the bed, the cold clammy hand similar to the wetness under his armpits and below his waist. Oliver tried not to shake.

It only took Ben a single movement to get Oliver up and towards his neck. The boy could see nothing as he stared ahead over the giant’s shoulder. Ben easily fell off the bed in a turn, and stood up, and Oliver’s eyes watched as the bed got further and further away.

Less than half a minute later, Oliver was blinded by the bathroom lights. He closed his eyes, and he could almost fall asleep again, he held them so tight, just like the warm arm around his back. He felt his body moving downward and then, being placed on a flat surface. Oliver blinked open his eyes, the lights were far too bright still, but he could make out the shape of Ben coming down and carefully removing his underpants. He felt a slight shock as Ben exposed his member and dirty hair. The fresh air was a partial relief to his stained flesh and gave some comfort against the humiliation of being changed like a toddler.

Ben found a wet wipe and softly cleaned up Oliver’s legs and pubic area. The cold wipe gently went over his instrument, like a jeweler’s hands, presenting and polishing the organ, and the pressure was light enough to stray from the erotic. Oliver kept his face forward and he focused on his tight breathing through his clenched rattling teeth.

Victoria popped her head in, her arms were full of sheets and covers, but she dropped off a large blue rectangle on the bathroom counter before continuing her journey. She said nothing to Ben and did not even acknowledge Oliver. Their actions and face were robotic, servile, placating some base primitive emotion like a reflex.

Ben must have been satisfied because he started to unfold the deep blue cloth, padding the inside carefully with his hand and expanding its soft contours. Once fully open he lifted Oliver and placed him directly on the middle of the padded interior. One hand brought the front up, the other the back. Two sets of fingers pulled at top tapes on Oliver’s left and right, and the whole garment was pulled together in a swift action. Ben casually pulled at the two bottom tapes, tightening the adult diaper into one garment.

It was dry, it was soft like toilet paper, it was tight around the waist and penis, but spacious enough to hold the largest messes. Oliver waddled a bit back and forth on the back of his buttocks, the supporting padding was distinct from boxers, and still different from the pull-ups that Oliver had gotten used to the past few days. Those had been like tight underpants, stuffed with tiny amounts of extra padding in the front, these new garments could hold even the largest spill without leaking.

“All tight?” Benjamin seemed pleased with himself, he reached in and gave Oliver a large hug, not letting him answer. Soon the small man was back up in the air.

“Thank you,” Benjamin said, slightly moving Oliver’s hair and kissing him on the forehead. Oliver blinked his tired eyes and tried to shut out the experience. In his cloudy consciousness he began to wonder if he was still asleep, like maybe this was a repeat of the strange milk dreams from earlier.

It took Oliver a few seconds to realize he was not returning to his bedroom. He held close to the giant’s chest that glistened like a gladiator. With a gentle movement he was uncoupled from Benjamin, and then placed at arm’s reach on his new parent’s bed. The mattress extended for five feet on both of Oliver’s sides. His shoulders and legs sunk into the soft sheets and blanket, and his underside crinkled as he fell in.

The surface was warm, and had a hint of wetness, which invited Oliver like a towel in a sauna. His eyes darted around the darkened room, finding soft outlines of shapes and shadows. He took a deep breath through his nose. Instead of the stink of two copulating humans, this was delightful, not sweat and tears, but a soft ocean, not the remnant odors of rubbery flesh, but more like pine with a slight hint of a fire. The pheromone drenched air lulled Oliver into comfort, and he hardly noticed the bed shake as Ben found a spot anchored to Oliver’s right side. This close, with no other sounds in the cavernous room, Oliver could hear the loud plump of the man’s giant heart. Like a metronome, it pumped just once every two seconds, and the small man closed his eyes to the sound, his own heartrate starting to slow in time with the plodding thump.

Oliver was nearly back asleep and did not notice when Victoria returned to the room. She elegantly came up to Ben, tapped him on the shoulder, and got his attention. The giant’s smile became straight, and he turned his head towards his wife.

Victoria was commanding in her whisper, “He’s ready, go ahead, just like we talked about.”

Ben turned closer to Oliver, gently patting his hair and leaning in close to his ears. His voice was protective, authoritative, but still a calm whisper.

“Oliver, sleep is important, it’s what your entire day builds towards. It is the one thing every day you need to get right so you can be at your best the next day. When you sleep, I don’t want you to be afraid of going deeper, of exploring the vastness of all your imagination can conjure. You’ve earned the right to long, peaceful, lovely dreams. When you dream, I want you to take your diapers with you, so you can know that no matter where you go, or what is happening, you can continue to sleep without worry. No more alarms, no more worries, no more needing to get up. If you need to relieve yourself, you’ll know in your dreams it’s perfectly safe to go. You don’t need to risk getting up and hurting yourself. You don’t need to interrupt your sleep.”

Oliver wandered a bit in the vastness of his own head. The dreamscape was normal, clouds and sky above, nondescript ground below. He looked at himself, growing increasingly lucid towards his dream, a rarity.

He was wearing his favorite suit and tie, but his pants had shifted. He looked around and his mind conjured a mirror. He saw himself, not the young boy he saw of late when his eyes fell on a reflection, but the Oliver from when he thought of what he wanted himself to look like. This man was thinner, stronger, and had less scars. His hair was short and well groomed. His clothing was well fitting in appearance but loose. The pants were wrong, in their place he saw his empty legs, his barren feet, and large blue diaper.

Oliver reached down, feeling the smooth landing zone, and tried to pry off the tapes. The tapes would not move. He tried to conjure a pair of pants, and while he could imagine the jeans in his hands, he could not get them onto his body. Oliver summoned a towel, and his dream logic just caused it to puddle down at his feet. The diapers were a part of him now, part of how he saw himself. No matter what adventures he went on, he would bring them with him.

The voice echoed in the dreamscape, “Oliver, there are so many things that define you. Some of these are old, and some are new. You’re a soldier, a diplomat, an administrator, a spy, an explorer, and an historian. You’re not all these things all the time, and you don’t need to be them all the time. There is another one. One that you haven’t thought of yourself in a long time, but it was always there hidden. It’s time you admit it’s part of who you are now too. Ahead of all those other things, the one thing you do every day, you wet your bed. Oliver you’re a bedwetter, but there is nothing to worry about, because mommy and daddy are going to help you with that. You can run off now, into dreamtime, safe and secure, without any worries, you can sleep as much as you need. You will never need to get up again in the middle of the night. Your diapers represent our commitment to you, our love and protection, and our desire for you to have a wonderful night’s sleep.”

“I’m not a…” before he could complete his sentence the blocks swarmed in. They were massive, towering over him in the dreamscape, twenty to thirty feet in dimension. These blocks were foundational, each representing a core aspect of his being. He was a soldier, a spy, an explorer, an American, and an Earthling. All the things that defined him to himself, and all the things he built off to his unique identity and consciousness.

These blocks only defined who he was when he was awake. A new massive one came smashing into the dreamscape, dwarfing all the others, a hundred feet wide. This was who Oliver was when he was in bed, something he did every day. The large concrete slab slammed to a stop behind him, causing ripples through the dream landscape. Oliver tried pushing it, but it was immovable.

“I’m not a bedwetter, I just,” Oliver looked around and saw himself in the mirror he had examined earlier, his reflection smirked and replied, “You wet the bed today. That makes you a bedwetter.”

“It was just one time,” Oliver defended himself, the man in the mirror shook his head.

Oliver was back in Davenport, the psychic landscape shifted to his first big boy bed, he looked down to see his tiny legs in white pajamas atop a heavy soft white comforter. A dark cool stain had formed beneath his crotch.

“This doesn’t count, I was four.” Oliver protested.

“There are a dozen memories just like this one, buried deep, but they all happened. They’re all you Oliver. This is who you are. Your mind does not care whether it was a day ago or three decades ago. It’s like riding a bike, it all just comes right back.”

Oliver threw off the bed comforter and waved his hands over himself. “I beat this before; I’ll beat it again. I’m not that person anymore.” His stained pajamas were gone, and his suit was back, he tightened the overcoat. “I’m an adult.”

“An adult who wears diapers to bed,” a voice countered.

Oliver looked down at the dark blue underpants. They matched his coat, he felt a bit stylish and proud, before shaking his head. “No,” He closed his eyes, “You’re supposed to help me. Benjamin did something. We need to fight this.”

“You’re the one that decided to go this route, Oliver. You decided to release your payload into your pants. You could have been a big boy. You wanted to be a baby.”

The dreamscape shifted again, no longer his hometown, but an empty hallway, it vaguely reminded Oliver of an old school. He tried to run from the nightmare voice, bounding upstairs and running down tiled corridors. In a panic he came to a strange door. A security light was flashing at its side. It looked heavy, metal, and off brown, like a fire escape door, with a handle clearly tied to the alarm system. Painted words cautioned against opening the door.

“You don’t want to go in there, your mind will become lost in the deepest of dreams, you might never awaken again.” his shadow-self warned. The chasing monster was nothing more than a fuzzy outline, pausing menacingly at the end of the hall Oliver had run through.

Oliver took a look down at his protection, feeling the soft cloth like interior caress and guard him, like a suit of armor. “I’m not afraid of exploring anymore. I’m not afraid of going too deep.”

The man laughed and through his entire body into the heavy door. The warning light to the side of the door began to flicker, but there was no sound, all the alarms of his mind had been shut off thanks to Ben’s command. With one strong heave, the door pushed outward, and bright light overcame Oliver; his body continued momentum into the empty void of white, before falling into a dark pit of black.

Oliver looked around the empty void that held no stars or light, not even the door he had passed through, “Well, fuck.” The words echoed a few times before dissipating to nothing.

The man oriented himself, pulling his limbs in and then standing himself up in the empty canvas, “You’re still dreaming, just dream something fun to do.” He tried to focus on something simple, like his stress ball from Earth. He flexed his fingers a few times, but nothing formed. He closed his eyes and imagined his truck, but nothing came in the void.

“I miss Earth. I’m in way over my head, and I’m losing it. I miss my job.” Oliver complained to the void, nothing came of his distress. He paused for a bit, thinking of home.

“I wonder what Naomi is up to. What would she do to solve this?” The void seemed to push a little, though it was difficult to tell in the empty nothingness. After a second of subtle movements, the white light returned. Oliver brought up his hands and arms to shield himself.

“Oliver what are you doing here?” Naomi’s tone was accusatory and partly concerned. Oliver opened his eyes to see his old office. In his month away, Naomi had made considerable changes. The chair, once a simple office chair, had been replaced with white leather and effeminate curves. The once clean desk had been overtaken with piles of paperwork and kitsch. A desk calendar was held in place with large wooden blocks adorned with empowering phrases for boss ladies. Along the walls were framed pictures, water paintings with lines evoking the idea of flowers, meadows, and sunsets, without any actual form. The once clean, but small interior was now choking and cramped. Near the door a small coffee station had even been set up to dispense individual sized prepackaged drinks.

“Um, just thought I’d check in. I see, you’ve made some changes here.” Oliver said, making his way towards the desk Naomi sat behind.

“Things are fine,” Naomi offered, her response was empty and tired, “I’m worried about you though, Oliver your reports are erratic, and it doesn’t sound like you’re making much progress.”

“Things are a bit more complex than I had initially planned, but I have everything under control,” Oliver said, confidently, staring the woman down.

Naomi flicked a pen she was holding and aimed the end at Oliver’s waist, “Everything’s fine? This is just, what, a disguise? Are you going native?”

Oliver looked down at the garment she was aimed at, “Oh. Hmm. A few complications, nothing I can’t handle, and it doesn’t affect the job.” He looked down, pausing a few seconds, “I’m getting help with it.”

“Oliver, I’m in a bit of a bind here. See all this?” her arms waved over the papers clogging the desk. “The director has been coming down hard on us since you left, I’ve got this massive research project going on with the milk and that’s had all sorts of complications, not to mention the illegal genetic engineering we’re doing out the back door. Meanwhile there’s a hundred fires to put out off world, and it’s like all the worst things that could happen happened everywhere at once.”

She looked down at the papers, tired, “Mr. Becker’s not been happy, and he’s telling me maybe we should cut our losses on projects like yours and the milk. He wants us to focus more on Terra.”

“Naomi, the milk is important. My mission is important. You have to push back on Samuel. I need more resources, and more time. I’m close to something big.”

“Samuel always liked you, he let you do things your way, and the moment you left Oliver, it’s like he needs to micromanage everything. He has all these ideas for the department, and it’s not in line with anything we talked about. He’s asked for everything we have on hypnosis, on the voice…” Naomi paused, “Sam’s been talking more about politics. He’s made a few big donations, attended some important dinners, and even had a few small appearances in media.”

Oliver shook his head, Samuel had not been ambitious before, but then, he had managed with a soft hand with what Oliver had been doing. Once the new manager came in, Samuel found himself taking a closer look at what I.E.D.R had been doing. At first, just under the guise of monitoring the new leadership and how the team was handling the transition. Perhaps it had started from an attitude that was both misogynistic and traditional. In his heart Samuel did not think Naomi had the chops to run a department like this. He pushed on her; demanding she meet his voracious appetite for reports, meetings, and updates.

Now that he understood the miracles of a hundred thousand worlds, Samuel wanted that power for himself.

“And if he were out of the way? You could help me without any restrictions?” Oliver thought aloud.

“We could do whatever we wanted Oliver.”

Oliver stood up, and with determination marched to the door. He opened it expecting hallways of I.E.D.R he had come to know in his time working at this facility. Dream logic does not work that way, open one door in a dream, and it will transport you anywhere. Leaving Naomi’s office behind Oliver found himself in another office.

The new room was large, Oliver had only been here a few times in the past few years. This was the main I.E.D.R office and administrative building. Where Oliver worked in research and development, this cube of a building served much more mundane purposes. Director Becker’s office was a sharp contrast with Naomi’s. It was spacious, with faux wooden floors, and minimalistic furniture. Behind the standing desk and computer was a long window, overlooking the office park entrance and employee parking. Past the facility was the city of Oakland.

Oliver’s bare feet squeaked along the floor as he approached the desk, his boss had been lost in thought, unaware of the man entering, until Oliver came within just a few feet. Samuel looked up and down at the younger man, seeing his mismatch of outfit, and said nothing. He pointed a hand to an empty chair before his desk, and when Oliver sat in it, Sam walked in front of his desk to sit next to Oliver.

“I’m disappointed in your progress Oliver.” Samuel began, he seemed to relax a bit in the chair, with a hand he brought a leg up and over his knee.

“What do you want me to say, I don’t know what I’m doing, that the scale of this is too big?” Oliver was self-depreciating, alluding to how he figured I.E.D.R saw him and his mission. The tone was mixed between truth and sarcasm.

“We need to cut our losses. Look at yourself, you’re drinking breast milk and peeing your bed. You’re compromised. They got to you. You’re turning into a baby.”

Oliver was confused by that; how did Samuel know about something he did today? This was a very unfair performance review; his boss could summon things from Oliver’s own consciousness and memories. Their minds were connected, nothing was hidden between the two men.

“I’m getting close to something. I just need more time, and maybe some more support, I have some ideas to make things better…”

Samuel seemed to conjure papers in his lap, he opened a folder and pulled out Oliver’s drawing from the afternoon, “Shrink ray?”

“It might work, look, this isn’t about what I can do or can’t do, I’m here because you need to respect Naomi’s management style. You need to give her some more space.”

“You recommended her, but as far as I can see, she’s not you Oliver. You, I respected once, you were fearless, bold, broke the rules that needed to be broken. Now I look at you and I see a man so beaten he can’t even keep his sheets dry; I see why you thought she was worthy of the position.”

Oliver tightened his grip, he did not want to do this, but he was running out of options. “Fine, I admit it. I’m a bedwetter. It’s part of who I am. I am Oliver, and I wet the bed. But I have people who are helping me with this. They’re going to make me better. What about you, who do you have?”

“Oliver, I don’t need,” Samuel tried to start, something was wrong. It was like a twitch in his abdomen, a change down below.

“You’re touching my mind, seeing all my faults, and me at my worst. Yes, this is who I am. I’m not proud of it, but I’m not going to be shamed for it either. My success is my own. My failure is my own. I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to make the world better, and I’m having problems, but I also have people supporting me. Naomi, Grace, Benjamin, they’re all helping me. I don’t see why this has to be a competition; I don’t see why you can’t be more supportive too.”

Samuel was confused. He should be waking up now, the alarms were blaring in his head. Four times a night he would get up and go. He had never had a dream like this, his body would not allow him to go this deep without returning to do business. Now the alarms were off. He squirmed, feeling the built up sweat and pressure near his crotch.

“I think I get why. Yes, I have a problem, but you have a problem too. This is why you were so interested in Amazonia. A hundred thousand worlds, and on all but one of them, your condition, my condition, it’s a disability. It makes us a failure. One place, one place in the entire multiverse and we can be ourselves. We can get the help and support we need for our problem. Why can’t you be happy I found this, found people who can help me. Deep down you need a place like this too.”

Samuel was not waking up. The dream was too weird, and the pressure was growing. Outside the office building there was a crack of lightning, and a torrential cloudburst came down, slamming the sides of the building with a hiss. “I need to get up, Oliver I need to go to the bathroom.”

“There’s a restroom down the hall,” Oliver pointed.

Samuel shook his head, confused, “No, not here, I mean. This isn’t happening.” He stood up and began looking around the room. The room brightened momentarily from lightning, the downpour kicking up intensity from a soft hiss to the sound of coins falling down the walls.

“I’m sleeping Oliver. This isn’t real. I need to wake up,” Samuel stated, staring down at his body. He tried pinching himself. The twitching under stomach was building. He started shaking his legs. He should not have touched Oliver’s mind when it was open to him. Something crossed over.

Oliver stood up to meet up, “I can’t help you with this. You just have to come to terms with who you are now.”

For fifty years he had been a big boy, and now the stress of his job had gotten to him. The growing troubles with State; the burden of protecting Earth from foreign threats; and the turnover at I.E.D.R. He was a man that prided himself on just a few hours a sleep a night, but his body was now telling him otherwise. He had been touching Oliver’s mind and gone too deep. Something was broken now, and the old habits came right back.

Samuel had spent the past few weeks wanting to use the successes of I.E.D.R to elevate him to the great man he believed himself to be. All his accomplishments, decades as a spy, ambassador, researcher, and administrator, none of them would compare with who he would become next. Samuel Becker released control.

The pouring into his pants was synchronized with the pouring of the rain, both loud, and warm as a late spring shower. Samuel briefly smiled in pleasure as he found relief; as the deluge poured through his clothes, and started to seep down his legs, souring his flesh with sticky urine. He felt small.

Oliver’s arm reached out and touched his former boss’s shoulder, “Sir. It’s OK. You’re so much more than just a person who wets the bed. You can still be so much more.”

The man started to sniffle, “Oliver, how can you do it? How can you be content with what we’ve become? We’re supposed to be bigger than everyone.”

“Because, I have a mommy and a daddy that are helping me. There’s a place out here where we can be ourselves and no one is going to judge us for this. They just want to help us, be the best us.”

The walls of his workplace fell away, crashing to the side. The rainstorm started to fade to a gentle pattern, falling over Samuel and Oliver. The dreamscape land slowly mellowed, and Samuel returned to the waking world.

It was seven thirty, late for a man like him. He shifted his sore legs, his pajamas were damp, the leggings had an unpleasant coldness, like they had not gone through the dryer. Carefully he took a hand below the cloth, feeling a similar slight wetness on the sheet.

Samuel turned his head to the nightstand, looking for signs of a water bottle or a cup he might have spilled in the night. There was an empty glass, faint white drops were along the edges. Taking his exploratory hand to his nose, he took a quick sniff, and then reached over to the glass for a similar whiff. They were distinctly different, the one below him was not a spill, it had come from his body.

He had been drinking the I.E.D.R milk for a week now, and the dreams were starting to get weird. Tonight, he had slept too deeply. Samuel sighed and picked himself up out of bed. There was no one to help him as he brought his soiled clothing and sheets to the washer.

* * *

17th June 2023, Königsberg, Europe Occupation Zone North–Zemlya

“Name?” The woman in the chair asked, her boredom carried itself as the older gentleman sat across from her. Her desk was simple and metallic, with a laptop to work from. The room itself was small, barely larger than a couple cubicles, with tall metal cabinets behind her. Along the front of her desk were stacks of brochures, standing tall facing her guest, inviting him to experience the wonders of another world.

Samuel had to look up at the seven-foot-tall woman just to greet her in the eye. She was modestly attractive, with short thick black hair, and brown eyes. Samuel did not have a thing for taller women though.

“Samuel Becker,” he said smoothly, clutching closely his briefcase on his lap. The woman slowly typed in his name, using the spelling from his pen filled in application in front of her.

“And where you are from Samuel?” The information was on the paper, but it was important to hear it from the customer.

“I’m not from around here. I’m from another planet called Earth. As in Earth Terra.” She was aware of multi-dimensional travel, not being a native here herself, but she had never considered another traveler might come here. She paused on entering the new information, forcing herself to look over the small man. He seemed nervous. His dress was sharp, he had shaved and cleaned himself, and he spoke English without an accent, he even had a few inches height on the natives.

Earth being in the database made things easier, she added the location to Samuel’s application in the computer, “You’re a long way from home, what brings you here, Samuel?”

“Medical tourism. I,” he paused, ashamed to describe it, “I have a condition that’s started up again recently and the doctors can’t figure out what’s going on. I heard from a friend your people might be able to help me with it.”

The tweener was curious, she typed in Earth in her immigration database, and the laptop seemed to stall for a bit before giving out a response. One Earthling was on Amazonia, in South Windland. Not the most exciting place, but if she was lucky, she could find someone nearby who would be willing to take in the poor fellow. He looked old, far too old to adopt, and medical tourism babies were not very popular. No one wanted to adopt a disabled baby. She did not have high hopes for him.

“All sorts of miracles coming out of the physiology departments these days,” she could at least give him some hope. “What’s the condition?”

Samuel looked down at his lap and was quiet. He mumbled, “Nocturnal Enuresis. Secondary. It um… just started the past month, and I’ve been reading it’s a common condition on your planet, and you guys have a treatment.”

The tall women stopped. She looked down at her groomed fingertips. She glanced again at his application, his occupation as director of I.E.D.R was listed. The lady reached over to her phone on her desk, dialed a quick number and lifted the handset to her face.

“I have a code platinum.” Samuel watched confusingly, as the woman got an acknowledgement and put back the phone.

“Samuel, I just want you to know, you’re in great hands here. We’re the experts on this. I’ve just elevated your case to the highest priority we can have.” The tweener grew a cat like grin that barely contained her giddiness.

“That’s good? You think you can treat me?”

“Mr. Becker, you’re going to get all the attention you’ll need. Before the end of this day, you’ll be hooked up with a team of caretakers who are going to dedicate themselves, night and day, to your special needs.”

The man gave a long breath out, letting his shoulders relax, “That means a lot. I was worried about using the multiverse to cure something was me being selfish. There are so many real problems, but this has become such a big part of my identity, I can’t function. So many people have problems, we can’t even begin to cure, so I think I’m just lucky I was able to find the one place that can help me.”

* * *

15 Messidor Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

“The good news is, it’s not maturosis,” a tall Amazon spoke, pointing his finger in the air. His tall hand intersected with a rotating hologram, in bright pink and blue colors, showing a human brain. The man had a long doctor’s coat on, a stethoscope was around his neck, and green scrubs beneath to complete the look. He looked about Samuel’s age, with white gray hair and oversized glasses on his face.

Samuel did not know what that meant, but his caretaker, George, was smiling and happy to hear the news. The man was ten or fifteen years younger than Samuel and was a bit soft and round in face and body. His brown hair was starting to turn in spots and had been combed back far on his head. He had dressed up for Samuel’s visit to the hospital, wearing a plaid overcoat, white pressed shirt, and dark brown tie.

Samuel liked the man, and from what clues he could gather, the giant had a job in investigations or crime, like Libertalia’s FBI. That part concerned Sam, and despite prodding, he kept quiet about Earth. It was difficult, George seemed to always have a happy, bemused demeaner, like nothing could phase him, and was infectious in his smile and attitude. Everyone wanted to like the guy.

Samuel shifted slightly, the strange steel cap on his head fell a bit, and the hologram image distorted before focusing again on his brain. For the past few days, he had worn a similar contraption, both day and night, that made detailed recordings of his brain activity. Today his doctor was going over the results of the machine with George and Samuel.

“That’s fantastic, that’s wonderful news. Isn’t that great news Sam?” George said, trying to excite the smaller man.

“I guess? I mean, how does not having a condition help me?”

The doctor walked over the lights, restoring the brightness to the examination room. The hologram that previously filled the space dulled, the fine details of the brain vanishing in low contrast. The giant went over his plan.

“Samuel, you have some unusual scarring and damage on your thalmus and anterior cingulate cortex. I’m seeing a lot of strange signals there. Nothing too serious yet. We should be able to go into there and make a few clips, make a zap here and there, and it should heal right back up. You’ll be on your way to good as new.”

“Brain surgery?” Samuel gave a concerning question.

“We would have to put you under, but you could be in and out in less than a day. Nothing too bad. If it fits George’s schedule, we can get it done today even.” The doctor was acting like brain surgery was like filling a cavity.

George put a large hand over Samuel’s shoulder, “It’s what you wanted right? This is what you need.”

Samuel looked down at his lap, and his eyes continued past it to the seven feet down to the floor from the examination bed he was on. When he went on this daring adventure, he did not know what to expect, but the idea Amazonia might be able to cure his condition within a few hours excited him. This was why he came here. He agreed, reluctantly. They prepared him for surgery and less than half a day later he was awake again, a giant bandage wrapped around his head like the giant diaper around his waist.

* * *

George carried Samuel back into his house and then lowered Samuel onto the living room carpet. The boy looked around confused, but stayed sitting down as George left the room. The man returned with a large store bag. Inside was a long horizontal box, which George pulled out and came low to present to Samuel.

“Train!” Samuel beamed, excited. He tilted his bandaged head confused as to where that emotion came from. Samuel hopped up and down excitedly, as George pulled at the tabs and poured out the contraption like cereal on the carpet. A hundred pieces and components littered the floor. The small man got to work, quickly placing down and separating track without any rhyme or pattern. After about ten minutes, he connected the last piece of a large figure eight, proud of his accomplishment.

Samuel then took a locomotive and placed it on the track. It was blue, with an oversized red smokestack, and black and yellow plastic wheels. He grabbed the remote box that was hooked up to the track and pushed a large red ‘go’ button. There was a long hum of power building on the rails, and then, slowly the train started to accelerate. Samuel spent a minute watching the train go around his construction, return to the start, and then repeat. He pushed a second button on the remote, and a long horn sound came from the smokestack. Three minutes went by, Samuel continued to watch the train go around and around. Finally, he hit stop on the remote.

Digging back through the pile of unused tracks, he found a second train, this one red with a blue smokestack. He placed this one opposite the first. He hopped back to the remote and with a delightful smile, engaged the engines of the two trains. His head bopped back and forth left and right, as it watched the two zig around his tracks. Samuel needed more. He returned to the pile of unused parts.

His full arms came over and he built out the trains with two more carriages and a caboose behind the two engines. With mischievous delight he pushed the go button again, this time power struggled to bring the toys to full speed, taking several seconds to accelerate to their maximum. Whoosh, right through the middle of the center his first train went, and then seconds later, the second engine passed inches behind the caboose of the other train as it roared through the intersection from the other direction. As the two trains rounded the corners, Samuel hopped up in eager anticipation, his mouth wide in delight. A squeal passed his lips, then a laugh, as Sam watched the trains narrowly miss each other again.

The boy started to clap and hop, and then yelled, “Daddy look! Look!”

George was watching. His attention was on the boy, not the trains. He lost sense of time watching Samuels’ enjoyment, staring at him from the couch. The words caused a shiver of delight through the man. The past décade Samuel had insisted on calling him Mr. Stigler, or even George, when they were together. Just a few corrections in Samuel’s brain, and he was a brand-new boy.

Samuel continued to hop around, eager to watch his trains, and excited when they nearly hit. He never realized the computers in the two trains had been synchronized, and the toy track was perfectly capable of managing the two carts in such a way that the two would never hit. The man could have spent hours playing, making adjustments and changes to the track, adding and subtracting the cars, finding all the different variations of play that were possible. Instead, he felt something, a signal from down below.

“I have to go.” Samuel said, instinctively.

“Go where?” George inquired, his face becoming worried. The surgery should have stopped that. Samuel was not supposed to be aware of what was happening.

“I don’t know. I just have this feeling I need to go somewhere,” Samuel turned his head confused, looking about the room, “It’s um… in my tummy? Right here.” He pointed to a spot on his lower right abdomen. “And in my butt,” he said looking down. He wiggled his toes, then looked over at George, “I don’t know what’s wrong. Is this related to the surgery?”

George came over and brought his eleven-foot frame low to ground. He lifted Samuel’s shirt and felt his tight stomach with his large hand, pressing in slightly. He looked Samuel in the face and smiled, “It’s perfectly fine. This is part of your cure. Do you need help?”

“I don’t know what to do,” Samuel looked down at his hands and then his dad. “It’s like it hurts. I need help.”

“Daddy knows just what to do,” George comforted. His giant hands came down and pushed Samuel in a crouch, then brought his tiny arms around Samuel’s knees, instructing the boy to hold there.

“I’m feeling a little better, but it’s still there,” Samuel spoke his concerns.

“Go ahead and push for daddy.”

Samuel scrunched his face and gritted his teeth. Within seconds there was relief, and he took a deep breath. His nostrils were rewarded with an offensive odor, but his mind blanked as he tried to place it. Samuel twisted his mouth and then looked past George, confused by the entirely novel experience. What had been inside his butt was now on the outside, hanging between flesh and plastic backing.

“What just happened? Is this part of my condition? I thought I was cured,” Samuel was not sure if he should cry. He had been so happy; everything had gone perfectly today. They had gone to the doctor, and the doctor had fixed him, and then he got a new toy, and now he was losing his insides.

“Everything is fine,” George came in for a hug, “Daddy’s here to fix it. You’re fine now. You just had your first poopies in your pants.”

“Am I going to do this often?” Samuel did not want to lose himself. A few more of these poopies and he’d be done for.

“Once or twice a day. See, nothing to worry about, this is a sign you’re cured. Now is it all out? Is all the poopies out?”

Samuel was not sure, “I don’t know, um, I think so?”

“Good, good, whenever you feel that, just do what daddy taught you, and you’ll feel better. Then come to me or mommy and we’ll get you right fixed up.”

“And this is the cure? How is this helping with my nighttime condition?” Samuel whispered the last part. He was still ashamed of wetting the bed. He had no opinion on dumping his lunch in his diaper.

George picked up Samuel and brought him to the changing station in the boy’s room, “It’s easy enough to explain. Sam, a bedwetter is someone who is potty trained, but wets the bed. Are you potty trained Sam?”

The term meant nothing to the man, and he shrugged, “Don’t know?”

“Then you’re not a bedwetter, you’re just my perfect little boy, doing what comes naturally to you.”

Samuel nearly burst into tears with joy, his shame was gone. The stress and humiliation were gone. He had been cured. He came in closer and hugged his new dad tighter.

* * *

Samuel stood up in the crib, a giant smile was on his face as he reached over the top towards his dad.

“It’s almost beddy-time Sam, but I thought maybe we could talk for a bit. I had some questions about your old home and thought maybe you would be willing to fill in the gaps.”

George sunk into his chair, looking down at his questions about Earth’s political and economic systems, about defensive capabilities and their plans for Amazonia. Seeing how helpless Samuel looked, with his oversized white pajamas with the sewn in trains moving up and about the nightwear. It was one large piece of clothing, but the bottom flipped open for cleaning and removal.

“Daddy, I just want to say something,” Samuel shuffled on his feet, needing to hold the bars, his feet struggling on the soft flexible mattress from falling over, “I came here, scared of what was going to happen, and you have been helping me with so much. Thank you for the new train. Thank you for curing me.” The words stretched and he started to slur towards the end, “Dank you dah dah, I love you.”

George looked again at his list of questions; they did not matter to him anymore. His son was his whole world now. Years of training, dedication, loyalty to protecting his world, and one I love you and it was gone. He crumbled up the paper. George reached over and gave his new son one last hug, then pushed him gently down onto the thin mattress, the boy’s butt crinkled as he fell. “Go to sleep, you have a big day tomorrow.”

As he left the room George turned off the lights and deposited the crinkled paper into the diaper pal. He made his way to the master bedroom. His fellow agent Francine was waiting with a large magazine, she was laid back, relaxing, slightly elevated on a pillow in her separate bed. Without a word, George slipped into his bed covers.

“You get what you needed from him?” Francine asked, turning a page of her magazine loudly.

“After a fashion,” George smirked then tried to roll away from the conversation.

“What’d the boy say? He was reluctant to share anything before the surgery, is he still putting up resistance?”

George narrowed his eyes, and focused his throat, the command was building. He knew it was wrong to do this, but his son needed him, “No more talk about that. He’s our son now, and we are going to protect him no matter what. He needs our help.”

Francine blinked several times, for a few seconds her breathing stopped, before returning, a brilliant smile coming to her face. She closed the magazine concerned, “The bureau will be expecting a report, what are going to say?”

“Let me worry about that,” George said, turning to the light between them. He clicked and the room darkened. He did not actually have an answer to her question.

* * *

8 Thermidor Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Samuel stopped his tricycle on the drive, and Oliver came over to greet his former mentor.

“How was daycare?” Oliver tried at small talk.

“Productive. Very relaxing. I should have retired years ago,” Samuel turned his bike into the grass, and stepped up to meet his companion. “I met a gal today; I think she’d be an interesting recruit.”

“You don’t need my permission to recruit anyone,” Oliver responded. This might be Oliver’s operation, but he still respected the man, and under his guidance, their little spy network had grown into a proper operation. Or at least as respectable as it could be, given it was operating out of a tree house.

“This time I think I do. Oliver, she’s young, twenty-five, her hair is like the sun.”

“What is it, half plus seven? You’re robbing the cradle,” Oliver joked.

“Her bike has one more wheel than mine does. She’s the one that’s been coming on to me. The staff thinks it’s just a cute kiddy romance and have been encouraging it. We got to sit together at lunch, and we spent second recess together on the swings.”

“I’m glad you’re making this work.”

“She’s Gaian.” He cut to the chase, the two had made their way around the backyard and towards Oliver’s club house.

“Really? How do you know?”

“I recognized her picture. She’s on the list of people who aren’t allowed to visit Earth.”

“Well, then that might be a problem. She’s either still working for them, or worse, the Amazons.”

“Yeah, but maybe we can convince her to see things our way,” Samuel started, “Plus she’s cute.”

“Like what, a triple agent, or a quadruple agent?” Samuel looked down at his fingers as though counting in response to Oliver’s question.

“I have an idea,” Oliver disappeared into the clubhouse and then returned with a flat smooth blu-ray keepcase.

“Naomi and Oliver, Season One, High-Definition Four Kay Remaster. Ultra yoU Vee edition” Samuel read aloud, uncertain.

“Go ahead and invite the lady over, watch a couple episodes, and she should open up. If she’s been faking it, it should give her a new perspective on things, see things the way we see things.”

Samuel held the case carefully, uncertain of its power, “What about me? Won’t this affect me too?”

Oliver gave a small laugh, “Nah, you’ll be fine.”

* * *

9 Thermidor Year CCXXXI, Potat, South Windland, Libertalia – Amazonia

Geraldine sat close to the Earthling. She had tracked Oliver to this forsaken world, and she knew that Samuel had been working with him. Her mission was simple enough to win over Samuels’ affections and have him give the details on Oliver’s plans here. Oliver Swift had been a thorn in the Gaian’s side when he worked for Terra last century. If his Earthling counterpart was setting up operations here on Amazonia, there was a good chance he was aware Gaia was here too and might try to put a stop to their plans. Geraldine needed to find out what the Earthlings knew, and if necessary, eliminate them.

Then she could go home and be a ‘big girl’ again. No more potty chairs. She never wanted to eat mac and cheese for the rest of her life. The hope of returning home gave her the drive needed to show false affection and eagerness with Samuel. All her work at daycare had paid off this week. He had asked her to “Netflix and Chill”, she had assumed it was a euphemism for sex. It was not.

“If you miss anything there’s a great podcast you can listen to, but for now I think we should just dive into the first episode,” Samuel explained as the lights dimmed and the home theater system kicked on.

“Hey Oliver, are you ready to go on an adventure?” Geraldine rolled her eyes – this was a cartoon. Of course it would be a children’s show, Samuel probably lacked the wits to -

The thought could not be completed, the bright colors flashed on the screen and burrowed into her eyes. It was like she herself was going along with Naomi and Oliver. She felt the heat of the desert sun as their team traveled to the grand pyramid, and the terror in the darkness as they explored. She had never seen a more real and engaging show in her entire life.

“Watch out Oliver, it’s a mummy!” Naomi warned.

“I’m not scared of a little toilet paper; I’ve got a diaper on.”

Samuel looked into Geraldine’s vacant eyes and got closer, “So, Geraldine, why are you here?”

“I’m supposed to be watching Oliver. I need to report on what he is doing.” She answered, her voice monotone.

Samuel looked at the screen, then back to the woman. He pointed a finger at the screen, “Well there’s Oliver, why don’t you write your report on this adventure.”

Geraldine’s eyes seemed to focus, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish. She closed her eyes one more time in a tight squeeze, “That’s a great idea.”

“You can come over here and we’ll watch another one of Oliver’s adventures, and you can write about it in your report. I’ve got the whole season on blu-ray,” he excitedly added.

A small curl came to her mouth in happiness, her plan was a success. She had convinced Samuel to show her everything he knew about Oliver, and tonight when she got back, she could write all about Oliver’s trip to the grand pyramid and how he fought a mummy.

“Well, there’s no point wearing them if you aren’t going to use them!” Oliver joked, giving another one of his famous catchlines.

The command wormed its way into Geraldine’s mind, forcing her to relax her pelvic muscles. A puddle dripped through her pink panties, and began to soak upwards into her dress, before falling down onto the couch. Samuel was immune to the hypnotic command, on account of not having any control in the first place.

When the show ended, Samuel got up and stretched. He prodded his garment down below, “Time to see daddy. How about you, I think you could use a change as well.”

Geraldine looked down confused, her dress was soaked, the bottom was absorbing the liquid that had pooled in the couch, and the front was wrinkled and dark. It felt cool and dirty. “No, I’m fine I’m a big girl, I don’t need help.”

“Daddy’s the best.” Samuel grabbed the woman’s hand and pulled her, helping her towards the front of the house and kitchen where George was sitting reading the daily paper. The past month had been hard for him and Francine, the agency had been pushing them to give results with the Samuel project. He could stall for only so long. He needed to come up with something he could say about these foreign worlds. The prospect of an entire council of worlds, more powerful than the Amazons, with their people watching, and infiltrating their world terrified the Libertalian government. Every décade the agency begged him for a status update, any information at all from his time with Samuel.

“Daddy,” George turned to see Samuel and Geraldine, the girl seemed to struggle to keep a hand in front of her pants, small droplets were forming near her feet, “Geraldine had an accident, can you help us.”

George barely said a word as he brought the two of them over to change. Geraldine was in a daze mumbling, but the giant ignored her as he got to work. He tugged a thick white diaper on her, and smiled, “This is all I have that’s clean and will fit you. It’s white and goes with your shirt. When you go home to mommy and daddy today, they won’t hold it against you. I should have asked if you needed to go. You are still a big girl.”

The girl did not respond, she was practically in a trance, muttering to herself she was a big girl. George turned to pick up Samuel and start his change. Lifting him up close, Samuel whispered in his father’s ear.

“Oh, Daddy, Geraldine was telling me all about her home earlier. Did you know she’s from Gaia? It sounded so nice. Go on, ask her about it.” George squeezed an eye and then stared hard at the girl in the fresh diaper. Two immigrants, both from council worlds. What were the odds? The girl was making up stories, trying to impress the off-worlder. He chuckled and humored the boy.

“Geraldine, I heard you’ve come a long way to be here. Why don’t you tell me about where you’re from?”

She did not move, her eyes were fixed forward, and her words came out without change of pitch, “Gaia is home to three billion humans. The planet is ruled by the Emperess Sak Nikte. We have been on the council for over three hundred years.”

George blinked a few times, his attention shifted between Samuel and the girl. Samuel spoke up, “Oh, tell him about the Coyol… um, Coyol.”

Geraldine was still monotonic, “The Coyolxauhqui Sentinels are an elite organization which only takes the best of the best. We specialize in interdimensional travel. We gather information and take action to encourage the populace to align with our goals.”

“Daddy, do you think Geraldine can come over again next décalend, and we can watch some more Naomi and Oliver? She really likes the show.”

A bright smile came to George’s face. It was almost as large as when he first heard Samuel call him dah dah.