by Detergent
[disclaimer: everyone in this story is failing at being an adult]
Larry forced himself to remain at the barker's stand for The House of Darkness until his shift had ended. Hardly anyone had joined the queue for the ride in the drear cold of December, things were much more uncomfortably boring than usual. He hadn't felt well, mentally or physically, for days and days. No matter what he ate: Shelf-stable caviar from Meijer or tinned, smoked salmon, or, in moments of extreme desperation, a funnel cake or a double-battered and fried corndog, he felt as if his food did not sustain him. He had spent too much time in the lab with his Father, putting everything he had into the magic they wove into their meth. He felt as if his head would burst and his bowels felt like water. And there was his now ever-present flatulence for him to suffer through. He hated this mortal vessel he had been cursed to incarnate into but his Father had beckoned and so he had been reclothed in weak, detestable flesh. He had to replenish his life force somehow and his preferred method of replenishment had left him withering away in a dry spell.
Juniper hadn't been very interested in Larry for nearly two weeks and visiting the garage had grown stale for him. He felt desiccated; he could no longer steal Juniper's life force during their sexcapades as their romps had been died off as of late. So he decided to push the issue a bit. There had been plenty of time for him to think of a strategy to re-enter her bed between the boring twice-a-ride announcements his job required as the front-man for the House of Darkness at the carnival. His Father only tolerated him rarely ever since Larry had become weaker and less able to magically potentiate the methamphetamine at the lab. And, of course, there was the matter of his terrifying gas but Larry kept trying to forget that indignity. Knowing what his girlfriend liked, he had planned a trip to the local Meijer to get something he felt sure would brighten her mood and grant him access to her bed.
When the carnival began to shut down for the night, Larry took himself over to the office trailer and gave one of the accountants a hundred-dollar bill in exchange for ten rolls of quarters. The accountant had raised an eyebrow at him but knew better than to say anything to the owner's son about the amount of coinage he'd be hauling away. Everyone who worked for Marion Allendale knew better than to question Young Mister Hortler about his plans or foibles. She simply tested the bill with the counterfeit detection pen and, after finding it genuine, she opened the coin safe and counted out ten rolls of quarters. She signed a deposit slip and noted they would need to buy more quarters from the bank when they dropped off the next deposit. She had Larry verify that he had received his ten rolls of quarters and went back to attending to the various booth-keepers as they made their nightly drop-offs and submitted their reckonings. Mister Mairon kept a very close eye on the profits of his carnival and she knew better than to let one penny escape notice.
Larry rushed past the line of his father's employees, holding his breath against the smell of their bodies, gone salt, musk, cumin from sitting in the weather all day. He was going to take a long shower when he got home. He would put on some of his faux Dior cologne and treat himself to some of the almost-Dior body wash he had purchased on special. He keenly resented that he did not make the kind of money he felt he was entitled to: His Father had been very clear that in this body, Larry had to earn the right to power. For Larry, that meant earning money, lots and lots of money. But his Father had kept him at the carnival for reasons known only to himself and Larry had no choice but to obey. His Father had power, real power, not only wealth or assets, and if Larry wanted any of that, he had to bide his time and do as his Father commanded. He pursed his lips as he made his way to his work car, an older model Buick with fading black paint. People called his ride a 'hooptie,' and it grated on him because he owned a real car, a luxury car, but he had to keep it locked away both because he feared some hick would dent his baby or scratch the paint and because he had animated it as a magical construct and his car was a sensitive machine who wouldn't be able to function on the hard, bedraggled streets of Terre Haute, Indiana.
He unlocked the driver's side door, keeping his backpack with its heavy load of quarters close at all times. Once inside, he put it in the passenger's seat and jammed the tab on his door to lock the car against anyone who would dare try to steal his wealth. He could not bear even the notion that his plans for the wealth might be thwarted by some working-class trash with bad teeth. So, as he started his car and drove to the Meijer across town, his attention was more on his backpack than on the road. However, even though he was distracted, he managed to make it to the superstore unscathed.
-
He stood at the claw machine inserting handfuls of quarters, attempting to snag a lurid-coloured tentacle plushie that sported a golden crown. Certainly, he could have used his powers to open the machine and he could have grabbed what he wanted. He could have used the key from one of the carnival claw machines to open the door, he even could have used his powers to cause the claw to grab the tentacle but then who would see the amount of money he funnelled into the slot to win the prize? People needed to see the rolls of quarters fed into the slot to know what sort of wealth Laurentius Hortler had. It wasn't enough to buy five boxes of shelf-stable "Russian" caviar off the shelf at a time at Meijer and his expensive ride had to be locked in the shop lest some yokel scratch his paint or steal the hubcaps and probably the car's beautiful tires as well. Larry had money and the purpose of having money was to flaunt his wealth and to show people exactly how much better he was than they were by virtue of his wealth. The purpose of this money was to show people the beginnings of his power. Just as his mountain of quarters waned now, his power would grow... if he could just snag that wretched plush with the golden plastic crown. If he could just... Damn. He was going to have to use his magic or the Force soon if he couldn't... Blastedeth machine!
The pile of quarters grew scant.
I commandest thou, tentacle!, he thought but didn't dare invoke, he didn't want to magnify his headache until the very last quarters remained.
The claw plunged. Maybe, maybe, maybe.... One of the cold steel hooks caught on the plastic crown. The claw zoomed back home, the tentacle in its grasp.
Victory!
The claw opened and released his prey. Larry bent and retrieved it from the prize compartment. He petted the tentacle, grinning.
"Thouest arteth comingeth with me, thee pretty thing," he whispered to it in triumph. He gently placed it inside his backpack. Reaching into the smaller compartment, he stirred his remaining quarters until they rang. He giggled, knowing that soon, the world would start righting itself again. Juniper would fuck him, he would drink in her life force, his headache would disappear, perhaps the rancid gas would cease and he would amass more wealth. With this tentacle, all things were possible.
Shoppers stared at the strange, giggling figure dressed as the budget version of Captain Mal from Firefly as Larry hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder. The remaining change in the pocket rang again as he settled his burden. Completely oblivious to his audience, Larry glided through the automatic doors and drove himself home to the strains of classical music on the slightly tinny-sounding speakers of his old sound system. He stopped off at the gas station to change into more normal clothes. He donned his best imitation designer outfit, hoping that he did not carry the aura of the carnival with him. It was time for romance.
-
Juniper's eyes sparkled at the sight of the squiggly, purple tentacle plushie. She knew the crown encircling the top portion of the tentacle wasn't gold and while it did bother her that Larry couldn't be arsed to put *real* jewellery on his offering, she accepted it readily enough and put her nose to it to nuzzle the soft plush of its fur.
Larry, sensing victory, slid up beside her and began snaking an arm around her waist.
"Ah, no," she admonished, dodging his attempt at an embrace. "The plush is nice, even if the crown isn't gold and the jewels on it are shiny, foil-backed plastic. You got in the door, Larry but you aren't getting upstairs until I'm happy." Juniper was taking dainty backward steps towards the living room window. Cold air rushed into the living room as she opened the window. She managed to keep her face neutral but there was a panicked look in her hazel eyes. Larry heard a small series of pfffttttt... pfffftttt noises and tried to choke down his horror as his girlfriend delicately pushed the window shut, trapping her emanations outside.
"If you want to fuck, you've got to dress the part."
"Okayeth," he sounded uncertain but he was willing to do whatever it took to get in bed with her. The crushing headaches had started nearly two weeks ago. Ever since then, Juniper had cut him off in an angry pet and ever since they both had somehow acquired some kind of horrible stomach bug that gave them the most awful gas. He tried to forget that solid, golden object he'd fished out of the toilet some days ago. It couldn't have been real gold, even if it came from his ass. He had hidden it outside in the rock garden. The days had passed and he had felt more and more miserable. He needed Juniper to let him into her bed. It wasn't as if he could leech lifeforce from his luxury car. When he created its persona, he had been required to sacrifice some of his life energy and that had been when he and Juniper still fucked regularly.
"Okay, you can come upstairs with me but you have to go to the bathroom, not the bedroom."
Larry followed her upstairs. She pointed at the shower once they reached the bathroom.
"Take a shower. You've been at the carnival all day and you smell like machine grease and tenderloin sandwiches."
Larry sighed inwardly but began to disrobe. Juniper gathered up all of his clothes the moment he shut the shower door. He turned on the tap for a moment, then noticed she was making off with his clothes.
"What arteth thee doingeth?" he exclaimed, watching her retreat from the room, her arms laden with his clothing. Those were expensive. They were top of the line Gucci knock-offs.
"If you want to hit this... and I know that you do... everyone does..." she chuckled from the other room in a self-absorbed manner, "You're going to have to do what I command. I have an outfit for you. Your outfit needs to be laundered, so I'll send it off to the cleaners. I know it's expensive but these are good imitations, so we'll have them cleaned professionally. But you'll wear what I say and do as I say or no pussy for you. I put new soap in the dish for you- It's Chanel. I'll treat you right if you obey."
Larry was half turned on, half disgusted by her display of faux power. HE was the mighty one here. But... he needed to refresh himself with her life-force and, he saw, picking up the pale blue bar from the dish, the soap was, in fact, made by Chanel. He lathered up and a sweet, powdery scent rose from the steam, something familiar but not quite identifiable.
Across the hall in the other room, he could hear Juniper arranging things for their tryst.
He heard a sound as if seeds or a handful of beads falling, clashing against each other in a sort of rainy hush and wondered what it was. Maybe she had bought a rainstick? He soaped and rinsed until he felt clean. He stepped out of the shower cubicle and grabbed a towel off of the rack and began drying off.
Juniper swung the door open. He stopped towelling off and stood there, the bath towel hanging from his hand so that she could admire him, especially his pale, pearl-like skin that had not tanned a whit from the harsh sun in this damnable hick town. She barely glanced at him other than to confirm to herself that he was clean. She ignored the luxuriant fall of his slightly damp jet hair and was not at all captured by the magnificent sweep of his cheekbones, nor did she linger in the depths of his gentian violet gaze. Her eyes didn't tip downward to his somewhat muscled, hairless chest, nor did they roam lower still, even for a moment to his semi-erect endowment. Her lip curled up in a tiny sneer before she nodded and, reaching down beside her, she grabbed a large, expensive-looking shopping bag and extended it to him.
"Since you're being a good boy, you can put all of this on. And don't worry, it's all the poshest of the posh. I did a LOT of mehndi this weekend and my Father was so impressed, he treated me to a shopping spree. While you were off gallivanting, we went to Chicago."
He accepted the bag and tried to grab Juniper's sleeve to reel her in for a kiss.
"No! Bad! You put on your outfit and then you may have kisses." She slapped his wrist as if he were nothing more than a spoiled child. He willed his face neutral when all he wanted to do was slap her back to show her who had the power here. She was watching him intently. As if to drive her point home, she touched the rune-etched white gold band that never left her finger. The world seemed to shift and he could feel the promise of great power radiate from her. He swallowed his ire and forced himself to do as she bade.
He held up the sack and inspected it before reaching inside. "Neiman Marcus" floated elegantly across the glossy white surface in tasteful, black script. He nodded his approval.
Larry sat the shopper on the wide vanity, then reached inside. His fingertips touched plastic, of all things, and he grabbed the foreign-feeling object, pulling it out to stare at it a moment later.
It looked to be a Huggies diaper scaled up to adult size.
In disbelief, he dipped his hand into the bag again and came out with a pastel blue Chanel box tied with blue ribbon, encrusted in diamante. "Chanel for Baby", he read in small script on the side. Still confused, he pulled one of the loose ends of ribbon until the bow gave and then slid the lid from the package. Inside, he found a bar of soap identical to the one he had just showered with along with a shaker of "Luxe Bottom Dust" and a pacifier in light blue, rimmed in what appeared to be real silver, the Chanel logo picked out in... diamonds? He didn't own anything like that, not yet- His Father was adamant he should work his way up in the carnival and that he should receive none of the proceeds from his time in the lab. His mouth watered at the sight of the gemstones and silver. Wealth. Mmmmm.
"Don't keep me waiting," snapped Juniper. "You don't want to disappoint Mommy. Make sure to dust your boom-boom."
And because Larry had tired of his headaches, of being run-down, of the aches and pains of mortal life, of shitting strange objects- Instead of reaching out and choking her with the Force where she stood, that half smug, half seductive look on her face, he instead lingered for a moment and then, shutting his anger away, he made his voice small and managed the words- "Wouldenth thee care to powder baby's bum-bum, Mummy?"
Inwardly, he cringed. When he had stepped from the shower, he had been more than a little erect and the baby supplies threatened to render him flaccid. Desperately, he sought images in his mind that would counteract what he knew he was about to do. He thought of piles of money. He thought of caviar-laden picnics and bathing in a golden bathtub of Cristal. He thought of lights and chandeliers, tinkling in the perfumed breezes brushing through the marble-framed windows of a huge mansion. He promised himself he'd take double the lifeforce from her to make up for this indignity.
At his lisped invitation, Juniper's eyes darkened and then kindled with desire. Her lips parted in a moist smile and she let out a little squeal. "Yes! Hims is so smart, yes he is!" she cooed in baby talk and motioned for him to follow her back to the bedroom.
"Bwing oor nappy," she encouraged him over her shoulder as she went.
Keeping his mind firmly planted on the costly leather interior of the latest Bently GT, Larry stuffed the diaper back into the shopping bag along with the Chanel gift box and followed in her wake.
He had been hoping to be greeted by a luxuriously piled bed- Faux fur throws, perhaps, candles burning, oils and lubricants laid at the ready, perhaps Juniper's dildo and harness laying close to hand. Instead, his amethyst eyes were assaulted by a Peppa Pig bedspread, Peppa Pig stuffies, and, the sound he had heard, believing Juniper had bought herself a rainstick... it was actually an assortment of baby rattles and squeak toys.
Matsutake mushrooms, Wagyu steak, tokay, he chanted in his head, imagining one of the most expensive meals he could design to keep his foundering erection.
"Pwesent oor boom-boom," cooed Juniper, indicating he should climb onto the garish Peppa Pig bedspread.
You're a very important, unbelievably wealthy CEO of one of the largest enterprises in the world, he told himself. There's nothing beyond your reach. You make more money taking a shit than most people make in their lives and that makes you better than everyone else. Better than anyone!
He could feel her patting powder onto his ass and told himself he was being serviced by a beautiful young rentboy. He was able to tune out her baby talk by grabbing one of the rattles and shaking it as loudly as he could, imagining its noise was the sound of dice in his hand at the Bellagio casino in Vegas.
Hey there, high roller.
He barely took notice as his girlfriend's hands slipped under him and flipped him over onto his back.
"Someone needs his binky!" He felt her thrust the diamond-studded dummy between his lips and parted his teeth, lest she do some damage.
Everything threatened to force him out of his daydream, so he imagined himself leisurely selecting an Arturo Fuente cigar from his monogrammed, solid-gold cigar case. "Hey there, high roller. Can I light your cigar?" a beautiful rentboy with cinnabar hair, dressed in the most expensive Armani tuxedo slid into the seat next to him at the table and pulled out a gold gem-studded lighter and gave him a seductive smile...
"Otay. Time for his nappy!" She got a hand under one of his asscheeks and hoisted him up, sliding the diaper under him as she did so. In a flash, she had peeled the adhesive tabs and swaddled him into the plastic abomination. Before he could regain concentration on his fantasy, her hand plunged into the front of his diaper and unkinked his softening member.
"Tut, tut," she admonished, wagging a finger at him. "His peggo needs to be stiffy-stiffy."
Stiffy-stiffy.
He was now limpy-limpy. Juniper was going to get frowny-frowny and he'd be stuck like this, sporting a diaper on his luxe-dusted bottom, AND with his intense headache for who knew how long if he couldn't resurrect his boner.
"Mommy will undwess and hope Mister Peeper makes another appearance."
Juniper began what might have been a seductive strip-tease for all he knew but Larry still focused his attention on his inner world. He had no idea that she was into any of this and it was too late to turn back now. Whether he fucked her or she pegged him, it didn't matter: He needed sexual release to create the energetic conduit to siphon life force from her. He couldn't risk losing her interest now, not when he felt sure she would go through with some form of sex act with him. Not when his headache had gotten so bad and his body had started betraying him. He truly needed her now and that threatened to undo him.
"Don't worry about anything," the rentboy soothed in his mind. "Even if you lose a bit of dignity, for now, you're still a winner. I've seen you in the magazines: You have more money than God. You're like a god," he leaned closer to Larry, who, in the casino in his mind, had stopped shaking the dice the moment Juniper had swaddled him into the disposable diaper. The young man's breath scalded the rim of Larry's ear as he gently breathed his words into it. "We both know you can buy and sell this casino whenever you like without batting an eye. You can buy and sell all of Las Vegas. because you're a god. Better, because no one knows. Well, except for me," he chuckled. Larry felt that mellow, indulgent sound in his cock. His balls tightened. The rentboy looked like a young god himself. He caught Larry's gaze and smiled a curling look of private invitation while running his well-made hands down the front of his exquisite tuxedo. "Fit for a god," his eyes flashed becomingly. Larry never wanted anything more at that moment than to kiss those supple lips. He stood and his chair banged to the floor. Carelessly, he chucked the dice onto the green baize of the table. He grabbed the rentboy by the suit-front and crushed his mouth with his own. The rentboy's lips parted and they touched tongues. His mouth tasted of mimosas. Larry felt himself painfully hard now. On the baize, the dice had fallen 3-4, seven.
"See, I told you that you were a winner," the vivid-haired young man grabbed Larry's waist with one hand and stroked the back of his neck with the other...
He barely felt one oiled finger enter his back passage, nor the second as it stretched him. Then his attention shifted as pleasure began to unfurl. When his vision cleared momentarily from his fantasy, he found himself on his belly again, Juniper straddling him, his diaper still intact, her hand accessing him by reaching through one of the leg holes.
"Is hims weady?" she babbled, tugging forcefully at the plastic at his waist, yanking it until the tabs broke.
"Guh? Gah!" he yelped in shock.
"Aaaiiiieeee!" she squealed in pure delight. "Gaga! Yes! Yes!"
Before he could blink, he felt her dildo enter him. She panted and gasped in desire. He looked back to see her rubbing the gift tentacle all over her body as she rode him.
He desperately sought his inner world but only enough so he knew he'd be able to climax despite this troubling Mommy/baby fetish his girlfriend had.
"Forget everything else. You're the very, very best," gasped the rentboy, his cinnabar hair curling over Larry's sleek shoulders as he penetrated his high-roller. Larry succumbed to his fantasy and felt the waves of pleasure begin to wash over him. Just before the ultimate moment, as Juniper screamed out, he felt the rightness of it and opened her aura and pulled her lifeforce into himself. Energy coursed into him, relieving his headache, putting new vitality into his muscles, as he poured himself into the ragged diaper that he lay upon.
The fantasy dissolved. He was disappointed but now full of vigor.
"Oh, Mommy needs a nap," Juniper was slurring beside him. "Hims was too good," She was curling beside him, yawning. Between one breath and the next, she had tumbled into oblivion, her discarded harness falling to the floor.
Larry looked at her caught halfway between disdain and some kind of love like the sort of love one had for his favourite toothbrush. She still had no clue he was taking from her. Good.
He pushed himself up and went to the bathroom. He cast the stained diaper into the trash. Turning the tap on, he cleansed himself with another shower under nearly-scalding water. He mounded his imitation Dior body wash in his hand and washed away all traces of Baby Larry. Then he went back to the bedroom and fished around in the Peppa Pig bedspread. Juniper grunted in her sleep, releasing a wretched wet-sounding fart. Larry held his breath until he found what he was after. His fingers caught something cold and he pulled out the Chanel binky.
He went to his room and donned his second most expensive outfit, smiling.
He could probably get a good price for the binky at the pawnshop. Then he could have a shopping spree. He wondered if there would be enough money for a trip to Vegas. Probably not. But he would get there. He felt better now and his power had begun to strengthen.
He'd buy a better day.