Another Day At The Office

James went into the office, his light blue shirt, neatly buttoned up, yet untucked from his tan slacks. Business casual meant ‘dressed up but lazy’. It was kind of his look. The only reason he wore loafers was because there were no laces to tie. On his way over to his cubicle he stopped by Jen’s desk. “Hey Jen.”

The receptionist in her purple sweater looked up from her desk. “ Hey James.” Her very smile lit up James’s world. It’s why he stopped by her desk every morning before sitting down at his own. James was to Jen’s left. The watercooler was to Jen’s right. That’s why James always took so many water breaks.

Townville Business Inc wasn’t the most exciting place to work. Quite the opposite. Some days James felt like his life was on an endless loop, a kind of kafkaesque torture of mentally running in place. If there was a hell, it might look a lot like Townville Business Inc.

Internally, James winced at his own assessment. Hell? No. Maybe Limbo, but not Hell. Surely, Hell would be more exciting than this…this…place.

Generally speaking, James came in to work fifteen minutes late. His alarm clock would go off at nine even though that’s when work started. A benefit to having a house so close to work was he could stay up late and sleep in, zoning irregularities be damned. He’d come in the side door so that Mitchell, his manager, couldn’t see him, and talk to Jen. After that, he’d sort of just sit down at his desk and space out for about an hour.

Space out: A wonderful activity where James would just sort of sit at his desk and stare at his computer. He wasn’t actually working, but from far enough away it would look like he was working. He’d usually do it for an hour after lunch, too. In a given week, James probably only did fifteen minutes of real actual work.

During those fifteen minutes, James would speak to clients about quantities…type of copier paper…whether Townville Business Inc could supply it to them…pay for it…and James had just accidentally bored himself even thinking about the job. Hell couldn’t be this boring.

The only thing keeping James from leaving was he wouldn’t know what to do with all the random information he’d acquired over time. Information such as the tonnage of manilla folders and Jen’s favorite yogurt flavor being mixed berry.


A bony hurricane in a yellow button up shirt, red tie, and glasses came storming up to James.

“Oh hey, Ike, what’s up?”

Jame’s co-worker held up a baby bottle; a fairly large one too. It looked big enough to where a body would need two hands to hold it, but it was definitely a baby bottle. Some kind of novelty one, James guessed. “What?! Is?! This?”

“That would be a baby bottle, Ike,” James said. He flashed a smarmy lackadaisical smile “Not everyone breastfeeds their children, you realize.”

“Despite the proven health and developmental benefits to breastfeeding,I’m well aware, James.” Ike said. “What was this doing waiting for me inside my desk?”

James cocked an eyebrow. “I’m guessing it was waiting for you…?”

“Yes, but why was it there?”

James turned his head slightly and looked past his co-worker and gave the wall a most cynical and confused look. James was the only one who did that, but no one ever seemed to comment on it. Sometimes to make his life a little less boring, he pretended he was on camera.

“I guess whoever put it there for you didn’t want you to get hungry, Ike.”

Ike was already fuming. His buttons were so easy to press that some days James felt like he had cheat codes to Ike’s brain. “I do not drink from bottles!”

“Oh? So you still breastfeed? I haven’t seen your mother…ever…so you must fast till you get home.” James turned his attention to Jen. “Is that why he’s always so cranky all the time? He’s just hangry?” Leaning against Jen’s desk, James added, “You’re not you when you’re hungry, dude.”


“Then why is that ba-ba so full?”

“You want me to prove that I don’t breast feed?!”

“I do. I really do.”

Ike started twisting at the cap, but to no avail. The rubber nipple would not budge. Child proof cap. That thought was amusing enough for James to throw another cynical smirk at the wall just behind Ike.

Eventually, Ike gave up and started chugging back the bottle of milk. “Are you happy now, James?” A stream of white dribbled down Ike’s chin.

“You have no idea…”

Still chugging, Ike trudged back to his desk with the bottle of milk.

“Okay,” James whispered. “For real, I have no idea what that was about or how it got there.”

Jen’s eyes lit up and she covered her mouth. “Really? I thought that was you for sure!”

“No. No clue. I just couldn’t resist.”

Tormenting Ike was another thing that helped James pass the time. It was one of the few joys in the man’s life. There was an idea: Maybe this was hell, but James was some kind of minor demon, meant to flirt with Jen and psychologically torture Ike.

James had done plenty of nonsense just to get Ike’s goat in the past. If he dedicated anything to this job, it was that, further cementing the demon theory that was just starting to brew. He’d booby trapped Ike’s desk with confetti and glitter bombs, put his favorite stapler in gelatin, and removed all of the screws from his chair so that it collapsed the moment Ike sat down. One time, he realized that Ike’s muscle memory was so precise that just moving everything in the office two steps to the left threw him off.

A big baby bottle was kind of out of left field, however. Not James style whatsoever.

“Okay, we have to talk about this.” Jen stood up from her desk. “I have theories. But first I gotta go to the little girl’s room.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure.” James went back to his desk and watched Jen get up from hers. It was kind of perverted, we liked the view as she disappeared into the restroom. A real case of hating to see her leave, but loving to watch her walk away.
The wait wasn’t long. No sooner had she gone through the bathroom door did she come out again. “Huh…” That was quick. Too quick. He went back over to her desk.

Jen seemed equally disquieted. “Um, nevermind,” she said, sounding confused, “I guess I don’t have to go potty.”

“Oooookay,” James said. “Potty? I think Ike might be getting to you” Admittedly, the toddlerish word sounded cute as anything coming out of Jen’s mouth, but James was decidedly biased.

Jen looked very uncomfortable. “Maybe?” She shifted uncomfortably and held her stomach. James’s ears twitched and he looked around. Was someone opening a bag of M&M’s or rustling a grocery bag or something? “Reverse psychology, do you think?”

“Maybe….” James went back to his desk and settled down for a good old fashioned round of spacing out. Adjacent to him, Ike was still chugging down the big baby bottle, his eyes ablaze like he was proving a point or something.

Whatever. Ike could hold a grudge indefinitely, but his attention span only lasted about twenty two minutes on average. By the time James finished spacing out, Ike will have been done with the bottle and doing enough work for both of them.

“Staff meeting, everyone!”

James looked up from his computer. Standing in the doorway to the meeting room, was, of course, Mitchell. Mitchell was arguably one of the fewer people less productive than James. On an average day James only interfered with his own productivity (Ike didn’t really count). Mitchell, however, made everyone less productive with an endless stream of side projects and in-jokes that only Mitchell ever found funny.

With no more than a few grumbles, everyone got up and shuffled off to another one of Mitchell’s mind numbing presentations. Dang. Right as James was looking forward to spacing out.

“Done!” Ike slammed the bottle down with authority. “In your face, James! I don’t breastfeed!”

“Yup, Ike.” James shrugged. “Ya got me. Let’s go.”

James joined the small crowd and sat down in the back row while Mitchell prepared himself for another bit of mindless drivel.

“Alright everybody,” Mitchel clapped his hands together, “I just wanted to make everyone aware that there are going to be some upcoming changes.”

“Is anyone getting fired?” Stan asked.

“No. Corporate is hiring new people, actually. Specialists, some might say.”

Stan opened up his newspaper. “Then I don’t care.” Stan could give James a run for his money in terms of laziness. The older, balding, black man gave zero fucks about this job and did nothing to hide it. At least James had his hobbies. Stan had elevated napping while seated to an art form.

“There are some modifications coming to life, and I just wanted everyone to be prepared for them. I think we’re going to have a…have a lot of fun with them. This could be a brand new start for us.”

“What sort of changes can we expect?” Ike asked, suck up that he was. “More importantly what is the chain of command going to be. Will the assistant regional manager-

“The assistant to the regional manager…”

“-have any authority over these new hires?”

“No, Ike. And here’s why.”

James rolled his eyes. He hadn’t gotten in his usual space out time. Stan for all his brazenness had the right idea. Time to check out. Mitchell’s words oozed together into a kind of gibberish.

“Nooboo chika om za gleb! Mik, mak, maka, lik dominips: Nooboo clops om jigga om meshka nooboo clops, nooboo gronk, wui caba nooboo. Oh feebee lay. Flutz ty roo!”

James only knew that Mitchell was done talking because he clapped his hands and looked at everyone expectantly. He got up and shuffled out. Unsurprisingly Stan had fallen asleep and Mitchell was doing nothing about it. Funnily enough, someone had managed to wedge a big pacifier between his lips. Stan was even sucking lightly on it.
Out of pity, James nudged Stan awake. “Hm?” Stan said, rubbing his eyes. He took the pacifier out of his mouth and looked at it briefly. “Huh? Oh yeah. Back to work.”

For the third time that day, James stared at an otherwise unoccupied wall. That was weird.

“Time to get a soda.” James walked past the copier and into the break room. Rather than go to the vending machine, he went straight to the office fridge. Ike kept a seemingly endless supply of sodas that he never labeled or kept track of. It was a wonder he didn’t, to be honest. James opened the door, bent over and… “That’s…new.”

Ike’s soda cans were still there, but right next to them were even more baby bottles, all filled to the brim and ready to drink. James did a double take and looked back over his shoulder to see if anyone was watching him. Was this one of Ike’s random and weird attempts at a prank? They never worked, but they were entertaining to turn in on themselves.

His hand hovered over the cans for just a second longer until his elbow swerved and he picked up one of the baby bottles instead. “Huh?” Before James could say anything else, he sat down on the floor, legs splayed out in front of him like a toddler and started suckling right then and there on the rubber nipple.

The door swung open.

“Aha!” Ike said, pointing down. “I knew it was you!”

James couldn’t reply. His mouth was on autopilot, sucking down the delicious yummy milk and guzzling it down as fast as he could.



Talk about intrusive thoughts.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but Mitchell’s going to hear about this!”

James was able to stop drinking long enough to twist Ike’s words some more. “Hear about what?” James asked. “Am I…am I stealing your….your….?” Crud what was the word he wanted. “Your… ba-ba?”

Darn it! He’d already used that one? James hated repeating jokes in the same day. Why couldn’t he think of another word for…for…ba-ba? Yet another choice he couldn’t explain. Almost like he didn’t have any other choice…or any other words for…



Ike came to the rescue, giving James someone to focus on besides his own limited vocabulary. “Those are NOT my ba-bas!”

“Oh yeah,” James said. “That’s right. You breastfeed.”

“I do NOT breastfeed, James!”

Ike stiffened as two fingers hooked into the back of his waistband. Behind him was a strange, and very tall woman clad in a stereotypical french maid’s uniform. Despite the subservient attire, she seemed very confident and powerful. Being seven foot tall could do that to a person. “Not yet,” was all she said.

Jame’s rival coworker spun around on his heel. “Do you mind, ma’am?!”

Evidently, she didn’t. The maid turned around and leaned out the door. “I found two more!”

“Okay!” An identical voice came back. “Are they potty trained?” James started drinking faster so he could stand up. He couldn’t drink a ba-ba and walk at the same time. Nor could he stop drinking once he’d started.

“Hard to tell!” The giant lady in black called back. “I don’t think they’re dressed appropriately if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Give it time!”


Ike wasn’t having any of this. “Mitchell!” he yelled. “Mitchell!” He stormed past the big woman and started going right for Mitchell’s office.

The big woman paid Ike no further mind. Instead, she glided over to James. “Here. Let me help.” James remained perfectly still as the seven footer picked him up as though he were as light as a soap bubble and sat down in a rocking chair by the refrigerator.

When had that rocking chair gotten there? James wiped the thought from his mind, instead focusing on getting the bottle out of his mouth. The only way to do that, however, was to finish it. The big woman rubbed his back and made cooing nonsense sounds while she gently rocked him.

James finished the bottle. “Good job,” the maid said. “Very good job!”

She picked James up off of her lap and set him on his feet. “Uh…thank you?” This was not what James was having in mind.

“Okay. All done. Go play.”

The office drone didn’t need much more encouragement than that to slink off.

“MITCHELL!” Ike was on the border of a panic attack. “WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?”

Dressed sailor whites, including the funny hat, Mitch was being carried on the maid’s hip. “Oh relax, Ike,” their manager scoffed. “You’re so uptight. This is new! It’s hip! Hip…get it? That’s what she said.”

“You look like an imbecile, Mitchell!” Ike said. On most days, this would be a massive case of the pot calling the kettle black. Today was obviously an exception.

James cocked an eyebrow. How did the maid…? He looked back into the break room. The maid who had just finished bottle feeding him still sat idly on her rocking chair. “Oh…” It wasn’t just the voice that had been identical. “Twins. Neat?”

When he looked back, he saw Ike snatching a pacifier out of the second maid’s outstretched hand. “I’ll have you know, Mitchell, that I’m accepting this binky, but under extreme protest!”

Amidst the absurdity James slid over to Jen. “Hey,” he whispered. “What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure…” Jen said, just as flabbergasted at the bizarre scene as James. “Was this what Mitchell was talking about?”

James shrugged. “I don’t…NO!” Jen’s clothing had switched out. Her purple sweater had become a purple jumper dress, accented with a bow on top of her head. That part had been strange enough. What had really startled the office worker was how his not-so-secret crush’s dress was so short; short enough that he could see the bottom of what could only be a diaper poking out.

The look of intense concentration on Jen’s face was equally disturbing. Somewhere in the back of his mind he connected the dots and realized what she was doing. “Jen, are you…are you pooping?”

“Yeah,” Jen said, her face turning red with strain and embarrassment. “I already wet my diaper. Now I’m making a messy.”


Jen grunted and the sounds of muffled farts preceded her answer. “Because I was never potty trained…?” To hear her say it, Jen was just as surprised as James was. She sat back down in her chair, wincing as her mess no doubt spread around in her baby panties.

James blanched, but for whatever reason, perhaps years of malaise setting in, he couldn’t exactly bring himself to be disgusted. It just wasn’t in him. All the same, he still had concern and curiosity. “Aren’t you gonna do something about that? Get…changed?”

The secretary shrugged. “Can’t,” she said. “Don’t know how. Will you change me?”

James gulped and leaned back. Change her? Change her diaper? Like a baby? As much as he’d wanted to get into Jen’s panties, changing. More importantly however… “I…can’t…? I don’t know how…?” Wow. Was he really that much of a guy that he didn’t even know how to change a diaper?

One of the maids came up. “Someone made a stinky!” she said, fanning her hand in front of her nose. James tensed up and remained statue still while the giant woman looked down the back of his slacks. “Oh! No diaper, yet. Can’t be you.”

“Yet?” James asked, “What do you mean, ‘yet’?”

The seven foot ignored James and quickly wound her way over to Jen. “Ooo!” She exclaimed, patting the back of Jen’s diaper. “I found a stinky baby! Let’s get the baby changed!”

James watched helplessly as his crush was picked up and carried on the maid’s hip out from behind her desk. Her dress rode up so that if James had somehow missed the adult sized diaper she was wearing before. “Jen?! What’s going on?!”

“I…” Jen stammered. “I don’t know. I think I’m getting my diaper changed…?” She was laid down on a large adult sized changing table right where the copier used to be.

While her dress was hiked all the way up past her belly button, the first of two strange questions came to James: Why wasn’t she doing more to stop this?

The maid cooed and babbled to Jen as she undid the tapes on Jen’s diaper. She effortlessly lifted the secretary’s legs up by the ankles and started wiping the mess off her bottom. “Such a cutie stinky patootie!” One-handedly she finished wiping Jen, balled up the old diaper and tossed it into the diaper genie right next to it. No looking or anything. Had he not been so disturbed, James might have made a Globetrotters quip.

“Let’s have the baby smell as cute as she looks,” the maid kept cooing while slipping a new diaper beneath Jen’s bottom and powdering it.

Through all of this, Jen sucked her thumb and babbled happily. James could literally make out the contented smile behind that thumb as the fresh diaper was yanked up and taped snugly on. “Muff beffuh.”

Why wasn’t she fighting this? Jen shouldn’t be laying placidly on a vinyl mat getting her butt wiped and powdered. She should be kicking and screaming! She wasn’t a baby! She should be trying to stop this! Someone should be trying to stop this! That’s when the second question came to him. Why wasn’t he?

James looked down at his own sneakered feet. They were rooted, unmoving to the floor. Sneakered? He did a massive double take. Somehow, beneath his denim shortalls, instead of his loafers, were bright yellow sneakers with red laces; practically clown shoes!

Freshly diapered, Jen was carried back to her playpen at the front of…the…?

Why was he wearing shortalls?! James raced through his recent memory. He didn’t remember dressing himself like this. A more shocking realization came to him: He couldn’t remember how to dress himself.

The salesman waddled over to Jen’s playpen, where he’d been sure there was a desk not two seconds ago. “Jen,” he said. “Something weird’s going on.” He didn’t hear the crinkle coming from beneath his pants, nor did he notice his own toddlerish gait thanks to his own mounting panic.

“Yeah,” Jen said. “I know. It’s like…it’s like…hold on.” She crawled over to a plastic rotary phone- a bright red receiver on a smiling white base- “Hello, Babville Daycare, how may I direct your call?”

“Jen!” James shouted, “that’s a toy!”

“I know! But it’s so much fun to play pretend!” Jen dropped the plastic receiver and gasped. “Oh my gosh, you’re right. What’s going on? Why can’t I go potty?”

James leaned over the railing of the playpen. “I don’t know. Probably the same reason I can’t say ba-ba.”


James grunted in frustration. “I mean ‘ba-ba’!” He smacked his forehead. He couldn’t even say the adult word anymore. “You know what I mean.”

Jen tried a few phrases out, and while she did not stutter, her face grimaced and flinched with each infantile substitute. “I don’t know how to go potty. I pee-pee and poopy in my diapee.” Her shoulders slumped and she started sucking on her thumb.


Jen yanked the offending digit out of her mouth so fast it was a wonder her front teeth didn’t come flying across the office. “James,” she almost cried. “Why is our office turning into a daycare?”

When James looked around, ‘turning’ was the wrong tense. The building where they spend most every day of their lives had become a full on nursery. Computers had been replaced with rainbow glockenspiels and jack in the boxes. Cribs lined the walls, and the restrooms seemed to have faded out of existence entirely. Toy boxes and piles of stuffed animals littered the periphery.

“If this place is a daycare,” James said aloud. “What does that make us?”

Jen looked like she knew the answer but was too afraid to say it out loud. “Look at Stan…”

Stan was nodded off, like usual, but now he was clad in just a diaper and held aloft in a bouncer where his cubicle used to be.
“Mitchel?” Their boss was being laid down on the changing table, his sailor shorts, around his ankles and his diaper swollen and sagging.

“Someone left me a present!” The giant maid cooed.

“That’s what she said!”

Mitchel got a pacifier shoved between his lips. “That’s enough out of you Mister Mush Tush.” Obediently, Mitchel started suckling on it. James kind of wished someone had thought of that earlier.

Over in the back corner, Angie from accounting seemed to be having a delightfully prissy time holding a fake tea party in a pink little bo peep outfit. James assumed she was diapered simply because there was no way anyone would be able to get to the potty on time with all of those petticoats on.


Poopy! Now he was doing it too!


Darn it, he couldn’t even swear correctly!

Time to do something about this. “Excuse me,” James said, raising his hand. “Miss? Miss Maid lady? Either of you?” He saw that there were three of them now. “Any of you?”

One of them stopped and addressed the toddlerized James. “Nanny. Call me Nanny.”

“Yeah, I am super not comfortable with calling you that. What’s going on?”

The giant woman took James by the hand. “We’re just making some modifications,” she said. “Reorganizing things. Making this place look more like a daycare.”

“This isn’t a daycare, though.”

“Isn’t it?”

Just off in the distance, Ike had switched to a yellow onesie, and he was busy suckling at the teat of a fourth giant woman in a French maid’s outfit. “James!” he screamed as he was being shifted onto the other breast. “This proves nothing! This doesn’t count! You don’t win!”

“Wish I could forget that….” He looked back to the Nanny…the Nanny…no not the Nanny, the Nanny…darn it! James looked back over to the Nanny. “Nanny, you gotta believe me, it’s not normally like this around here.”

“I know.”

James cocked an eyebrow. “You do?”

“Of course silly. We’re much bigger than you. That’s why we’re coming in to help.”

“How is this…?” James winced as he felt a familiar and comforting heat enter the front of his shortalls. He was going pee-pee in his diapee. Like a good baby. Not enough to cry about it, though. “I’m sorry. How is this helping, exactly?”

Nanny picked James up and carried him over to a high chair. James liked being carried. “Do you really want to work and stare at a boring computer screen all day, bubby?”

“No, but I don’t exactly want to be a dumb baby, either.”

She buckled James in and clicked the tray in place. From literally out of nowhere she grabbed a jar of green baby food. “Oh you’re not a dumb baby. Dumb babies are no fun. We’re not hurting you, just modifying things to make them better. For everyone.”

James couldn’t argue with that. Literally. Some part of his brain was preventing him from interrupting. “Such a good baby.”

The praise made him feel the same way that he did when Jen smiled at him. Better, even.

“This isn’t Townville anymore. This is Babville. And it’s not a business office. It’s a daycare. And you’re not an adult, you’re a baby. Understand?”

“But…” James looked at himself. “I look like an adult.”

“Not to me, you don’t. Not on the inside. Where it counts.”
James was about to try and ask a question, when instead he leaned forward and started pushing last night’s dinner into the seat of his pants. He’d poopied and pee-peed right in his diapee. Just like Jen. And oddly enough, he found the sensation neither terribly embarrassing, nor all that unpleasant.

On an academic level, James knew that he should be embarrassed, more than embarrassed he should be absolutely mortified. But as he settled back down into his high chair and opened his mouth for another spoonful of delicious baby food, smushing the mush around both ends, he found he wasn’t.

He was also…never potty trained…? How had that never happened? He knew words like ‘embarrassed’ and ‘mortified’, but he’d suddenly never been potty trained. It was almost like the part of him that had been potty trained and enjoyed doing adult things like drinking or making whoopee, had been copied and pasted over. All the same, he was still mostly the same old James.

Even now, stewing in a very wet and messy diaper, he was formulating ways to mess with Ike…maybe could somehow make Ike think he was potty trained? Put his binky in gelatin? He’d have to work on that one

“See?” the Nanny smiled at him. “You’re a baby. Now and forever. It doesn’t matter how big you’ve gotten.”

“What happens next?” James wondered, filled with awe.

“Well,” the Nanny waved her hand in front of her nose. “First, I think I’m gonna change somebody’s stinky pants.”

Stinky pants? Really? James remained quiet, but he looked to an unoccupied wall and gave it a knowing look.

“Then,” the Nanny said. “I think I’ll put you down in a playpen. Maybe with some more toys, and you and Jen-Jen can play until naptime. And before you know it, it’ll be time to go home, and you can have a bath and eat din-dins and sleep in your crib.”

James sighed. “Okay,” he said. “Sounds good. Oddly enough, it sounds really good.”

And that was that as far as James was concerned: Diapee change. Then playtime with Jen. A nice nap. Then home where Mommy0a woman he hadn’t met yet instantly knew she’s look exactly like a Nanny but with a red dress- would pick him up and take him in his stroller back home.

Robbie couldn’t stop playing one-handed. He kept rubbing the front of his PeekABUs with one hand while clicking on the screen with the other.


It looked like one of them was pooping!

Another one was breastfeeding!

Oh, one of the girl’s was crying because she spilled tea on herself! It was so cute when they cried! It was cute when they giggled and cooed too. And they still sounded like themselves! That was so awesome. If the mod had just substituted in baby sound effects and patched them onto the adult models, it would have taken Robbie right out of it.

But no. Somehow, somebody had managed to get everything, even the sound effects, just right, so it sounded like the adult voice actors were cooing and giggling and baby babbling. How was it any different than Townlish, the fake not-a-language the game’s characters normally used? Robbie couldn’t quite explain, but he could tell the difference.

Robbie hadn’t known what to expect when he’d downloaded this mod, but he hadn’t expected this level of detail. Townville was easily the most sophisticated Life Simulator on the market. This “Babville” mod was easily on par with the original code, if not better. It reinforced Robbie’s belief that there were more than a few ABDL’s in the gaming industry these days. It was the only logical explanation!

The only complaint, if he had to give one, was that the new caregiver models kind of all looked the same. Robbie could customize their color palette and maybe change their dress, but that was about it. It would have been nice to have giant Daddy NPC’s, too, and he said as much in the comment thread, but he made sure to heap oodles and oodles of praise for the rest of it.

He’d been a fan of Townville, and the various hijinks and pop culture references the original programmers had put in, but he wasn’t going to be playing the vanilla version any more. After Babville, there was no comparison. No comparison at all.

Maybe, he hoped idly, there’d be a V.R. mod someday so he could go and experience it himself.

Watching the animation play out, Robbie sighed enviously as another character got their diaper changed and put down in the playpen. No censor bars either…hot damn! How had he not noticed that? He looked at the potty bars for two of the girls, and frowned that neither was close to having another accident. Robbie could wait. He’d be playing this game a loooooong time.

If only those little collections of pixels knew how lucky they were.

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