Izzy’s story
Meanwhile, on a grass-covered dune overlooking the motel, Izzy is thoughtfully painting the landscape in front of her. The acrylics she is working with are not artist grade, and the canvas is cheap, but art is often just for art’s sake. Izzy learned when she was 15 that if you wait till you have the best supplies, you will never make anything. So instead of worrying about having the best, she is doing her best to capture the midmorning sunlight as it washes across the landscape like butter and syrup on a green pancake.
But some part of her is thinking and worrying about her Jacob.
Jacob’s story
Jacob walks down to the nursery. “Hey, Audrey, are you in?” he asks, looking into the nursery. His eyes trying to peer into the darkness The lights raise up from the ground, illuminating the space.
“Hello, Jacob, what can I do for you?” Audrey becomes animated, moving from her standby spot at the center of the room. “Do you require a diaper change, Jacob?” Audrey says her voice is robotic as parts of her are still springing to life.
“No, I just wanted to talk to someone who wanted to talk to me instead of trying to have sex with my girlfriend.” Jacob raises his hands above his head in exasperation, then he flops on a couch.
“That sounds rough. How can I help? Do you require little time? Is it time for your nap? Audrey asks, she waves her dress under herself and sits with her legs tight together.
“No,” he responds sharply as he remembers the panties. “No, that’s ok.”
“I detect hesitation,” she says, her motions becoming more fluid as she finishes her wake-up procedure. “Is there something you have to hide? Did you pee your pants?” Audrey asks, putting a finger in his waistband and pulling the front open to reveal the lacy undergarments.
“It’s what it looks like, but it’s not what it looks like,” Jacob says.
“I see you are attempting to confuse me.” She looks at him, her eyes going motionless as she processes the complex puzzle. But Jacob wouldn’t have had time to notice her delay.
“No, I wasn’t, I promise.” Jacob lowers his head in defeat.
“Oh, I see you have switched genders of undergarments.” She lets go of his pants. “I will make note of this.”
“It’s not like that,” he says, denying everything.
“It’s hardly anything to be ashamed of,” Audrey says.
“It was a bet,” he says confidently.
“And you lost?” She says
“You’re right, I did lose,” he says.
“And you have not changed genders? just genders of underwear?” she asks.
“No and yes, kind of,” Jacob says back.
She puts an arm around him and pulls him close. “I have never had this particular problem, but I am here for you. Your underwear does not determine who you are; you do.”
Jacob and Audrey sit and talk. Sometimes about nothing and sometimes about everything. Throughout it, she listened carefully and with compassion, and despite the insistent offers of diapers and fresh panties, Jacob relaxed and thought, ‘If nothing else, Audrey will always be my friend.’
Izzy’s story
Izzy breathes deep the smell of endless hills of grass. She stretches her arms and looks back to the easel. She adds a few more brushstrokes, then she slides her shoes off, letting her feet touch the cool earth.
Izzy hears a loud cough and turns around to see a small group of aliens taking photos of her. She screams at the top of her lungs.
They scream back.
Izzy falls backwards, landing on her butt. She turns over and starts running away. She makes it 20 yards before she looks over her shoulder. The group of aliens consists of Dr. Blob and the flamingo.
Sitting near them is the pale woman who danced with her at the flapper party. She is in a lounge chair complete with a glass of blood, a copy of Candide, ou l’Optimisme, and her exposed skin coated in thick layers of industrial sunblock. Izzy envies the 60s cat-eye sunglasses and her blood-red scarf. ‘Shit, I wish I looked that good,’ she thinks to herself.
Izzy breathes deep and looks behind them to see 3 aliens who have faintly green skin, a species that goes by the name Lizard People. They are standing behind Dr. Blob with heavy 1990s tourist cameras.
“Can I help you?” Izzy asks, one eyebrow raised indignantly.
“No, no. We are just watching you paint; please continue.” Dr. Blob says, making gestures to back it up.
“I, uh , how about a portrait?” She motions for them to stand in front of the easel.
Dr. Blob cheers and nudges each alien until they move into position. He sits on the albino woman’s lap as she keeps reading her book. The flamingo stands awkwardly to the side while the lizard people make strange alien gestures trying to mock each other until they reach a balance of gestures to be offensive for all.
Izzy, clueless to the gesture’s meaning, begins painting the aliens. ‘I really should read more classical books,’ she thinks as she mixes colors.
She paints them on top of her landscape. Some aliens, like Dr. Blob, struggle to sit still. He rolls back and forth across the vampire’s legs. She tries to draw him stationary but ends up making him look like an elongated blob. ‘He is a blob; an elongated blob is still a blob,’ she thinks.
She sets her paintbrush down and steps back, admiring her artwork. ‘Not bad for a quick painting,’ she picks it up and turns it around to show the aliens.
“Why do I have horns?” Trish the vampire asks, moving her glasses down for a moment to see it clearly.
“You don’t; that’s your hair,” Izzy says, pointing at the impressionistic face of the vampire. A mush of whites and dark purples with an oddly detailed set of alabaster horns rising out of her head.
“Hunny, my hair is much darker than that,” she laughs, causing Izzy to grumble indignantly.
“You captured my essence, Izzy,” Dr. Blob says excitedly.
There are unintelligible noises from the three lizard folk with gesturing and blame.
“They say you captured the obscenity of their gestures correctly.” Dr. Blob flattens and reforms in admiration. “But one is confused as to why you misgendered them as a primary male instead of a secondary… You don’t have a word for this; an egg carrier is as close as I can get.”
Izzy starts breaking down the easel as the gaggle of aliens watches. “What? Egg carrier,” she looks up. “They look identical,” Izzy points at the three aliens. Who really are nearly identical from any distance other than naked and intimately close.
“You can tell by how they move their elbows and knees.” Dr. Blob makes pseudopods to demonstrate, but Izzy can’t figure out what he is talking about.
“I don’t see it,” she says, ready to walk to a different dune and just repaint her painting.
“You should apologize to the lizard people, Izzy; they are very touchy about pronouns,” Dr. Blob nudges her leg.
“Uh, sorry, I will try to capture your egg-layer gender correctly if I ever paint you again,” Izzy says, trying to put sincerity into her words, but she is still confused as to what they mean.
She looks at the painting one last time. “It’s terrible.” She decries.
Dr. Blob bounces excitedly, “Enough talk of this painting; you are barefooted, standing on the side of a grass-covered mountain. This is where you break into song, right?”
“What?” Izzy says, looking around at the other aliens. They watch her expectantly.
“Oh yeah, the music starts before the singing.” Dr. Blob looks around equally expectantly when there is no music; he vibrates a moving orchestral score.
Izzy looks at him concerned.
His eye stalks looking at her desperately expectantly.
“I don’t sing, Dr. Blob,” she says, fiddling with her paintbrush.
Dr. Blob and the aliens are looking at her in disbelief; the vampire raises an eyebrow in her direction. “Well, go on,” the nightwalker says, bringing her glass to her lips to sip.
Izzy starts to sing “There once was a.”
The lizard people hold their hands to the back of their heads where their ears are. The vampire grits her teeth, and Dr. Blob bounces excitedly.
The lizard people make dismissive gestures and head to the motel with the egg carrier carrying the vampire on her lounge chair. The vampire is still reading her book and looks oblivious to her predicament.
“I told you I don’t sing,” Izzy says as she glares at Dr. Blob. She finishes packing up her art supplies. She grabs the handle of the box and follows the train of people back to the motel.
Dr. Blob rolls along at her side. “I think both your singing and your painting are good, and I would be honored to own the painting.”
She hands the painting to the blob, who extends two pseudopods to hold it above his head like it’s a Picasso.
She messages Jacob using the watch. “Finished painting. Where are you at?”
Jacob, sitting in the nursery, looks at his wrist and replies, “Nursery talking with Audrey.”
Izzy stumbles, landing in Doctor Blob, who moves the painting out of the way to catch her. He scoops her up in a tangle of arms and sets her on her feet. “Are you ok, Izzy?” he asks.
“I’m good, thanks.” She brushes her dignity off and bends to pick up her art supplies, but Doctor Blob scoops them up and rolls ahead of her with the art supplies, organizing and tucking them into the compartments. The whole container snaps closed with a satisfying click.
She looks down at her watch and tells it to send Jacob, “I can come rescue you if you’re being held against your will. xoxo”
“No just chatting, dinner at the bar soon?” Jacob asks in reply.
Audrey looks at Jacob’s shorts and their hidden depths. While Jacob is distracted, she reaches down and slips her fingers inside the panties he is wearing. She frowns at him. “You liar, you need a change.” She smirks and picks him up and sets him down on the changing table.
He struggles. “Hey, what? Don’t change me!”
“I apologize Jacob but little boys can’t be sitting in wet panties” she peels his lower clothes off, the cum stained panties are removed. She wipes him down and slips a diaper under his bottom. She lovingly rubs baby powder over his skin. She hums softly and skillfully a circus tune.
“Aww, now you’re not fighting anymore, are you?” She tapes the diaper tightly shut and slides a pair of pink ruffled diaper cover panties over top.
“What, why!” He fights.
“You indicated your preference for girl underwear. Plus, I have always felt pink is a good color for you. Your mommy should appreciate it” she rubs the diaper front
“I don’t think she will,” he says, covering his eyes.
“Let’s ask her.” Audrey says as Izzy opens the door to the nursery.
“Hey, Jacob, hey, Audrey,” her eyes stop on Jacob’s new underwear. “Jacob, are you wearing a pink diaper?”
“It wasn’t my idea.” He tries to sit up, but Audrey and the belly belt are holding him down, but that doesn’t stop him from fussing in Audrey’s grasp.
“I think it suits you,” Izzy smiles at him. Watching as Audrey lets him go and unclicks the belt.
Jacob sits up on the table. He looks down and feels intense emotions: sadness and upset, as well as arousal. He sits there with his head down.
“Let’s go get dinner,” Izzy says, playing with his hair before giving him a kiss.
Audrey smiles at the couple. “Take good care of little Jacob.” She hands the stinky panties to her. “Oh, and a maxi pad is not the same as a diaper for a little one.”
Izzy laughs. “I will try to take better care of… the little one,” she smirks at Jacob, who still doesn’t want to look her in the eyes. Izzy takes Jacob’s hand. But he makes her let go long enough for him to slip his shorts back over the diaper. But the diaper bulge is still obvious. He waddles slightly as they make their way to the bar.
“Can I get changed out of this?” Jacob begs.
“After we eat, I am starving,” she replies.
