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I Wanna Be Your Baby
"I can't believe I let you talk me into doing this, Colin." Erik Matthews looked around the room. The fat skunk was in a room with several people wearing tags around their necks with a look of annoyance. They stood patiently as the people who had signed them up for this barbaric ritual called a chairty auction. All the money raised would go to aid families in poverty, which was all well and good to Erik, but he still hadn't changed his mind about not wanting to participate in the auction. He looked down at his tag. He was participant number twelve. He was grateful for that. It'd give him more time to think up of a strategy of what he would do when he was auctioned off. He didn't think he'd sell for no more than a few hundred bucks. Who in their right mind would want to buy a corpulent skunk? Someone with a mental disorder, that's who! And that wasn't even the worst of it. For the next seventy-two hours he was someone's pet, their plaything, and his owner would have complete control over him, so whatever his owner wanted to do, that's what they would do.
Below his number was his name and below that were the initials AS. He looked at the other participants' tags. Underneath their names were phrases that ranged from "occasional cuddling" to "take me now." All of these phrases made sense. His, on the other hand, didn't make any sense.
"Oh, I don't know, Erik," Colin replied as he ran his paws through the thick white fur that covered the skunk's head with some mousse, combing it back.
"It's for a good cause, remember?" He started to run his paws through his friend's thick striped tail. The brown raccoon smiled as he massaged Erik's shoulders, hoping that it would calm him down.
Erik groaned. He really wasn't looking forward to the weekend, but since he was already at the auction, he decided that he might as well try to enjoy himself with his new owner. He looked back down at the initials that were printed on his tag.
"What's this mean?" he asked, bringing the initials to Colin's attention at last.
"Oh, that," Colin replied. He laughed nervously.
"Well, you see, all of the other spots were filled, so I just put you down as 'anything goes.'"
"You what?!" Erik cried. He raised his paws to strangle Colin, but the pink bow that was tied around his neck stopped him as it began to itch. He tugged at it.
"Can I take this freaking bow off now?" Colin sighed. Erik had been pulling at the bow ever since the coon had put it on him. Erik tugged at the bright pink bow fiercely. Colin whacked Erik on his pink nose.
"Stop it," he demanded.
"I think you look cute with it on."
"Are you done grooming yet, 'cause if you are, I'd like to have my shirt back, please," Erik said.
Colin grabbed Erik's white T-shirt that was still resting on the couch beside him and tossed it to Erik, who caught it and slipped it on, though he did have trouble getting it over the pink bow that was still tied around his neck.
Once he had the shirt on, Erik pulled out his tag from underneath his shirt and allowed it to dangle in front of his shirt, which didn't go past his large, round belly.
"Attention," a voice called over the intercom.
"Will all participants in the auction please report to the auditorium."
"That's your cue, Erik," Colin said as he began pushing Erik towards the door that led to the hall. Erik wasn't about to give up, though. He pressed his paws and feet against the doorframe, exposing his big, round rump to Colin. He looked over his shoulder at the coon.
"Can't we talk about this?" Colin pressed his paws against Erik's rear, trying to force the portly skunk out the door. He turned around and pushed his back against his friend's butt.
"It's too late for that," he stated. He could feel Erik's legs bend. With one final shove, he managed to push Erik out the door and into the hall.
"Now get going!" Erik got up and walked down the hall towards the auditorium with Colin walking behind him. The floor looked like it had recently been polished, as if the auction was a sacred ceremony and the floor had to look shiny for the participants, also known as the gods and goddesses that were being honored during the ceremony. Erik entered the auditorium through a side door that led to the stage while Colin went through the main entrance and took a seat in the auditorium. Erik stood in line beside a grey fox, whose tag identified him as Tony. He was number eleven. The curtain was raised, revealing a purple otter standing behind a podium with the audience in front of him.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the third annual pet auction," the otter spoke into the microphone.
"All the money made tonight will go to charities to support families in poverty. Let's start the bidding off with participant number one." Participant number one stepped forward. He was a red fox known as Tommy. One by one, the participants were auctioned off. Erik watched in fear as the line grew shorter and shorter. Pretty soon it would be his turn. He looked out towards the audience to see if he could spot any familiar faces, but the spotlights were too bright for him to recognize anyone. He shielded his eyes from the bright lights when they began making his eyes water.
There were only three more participants left until it was finally his turn. He wondered what he would do. What would he say? Would he need to say anything at all? So far, he hadn't heard any of the participants say a word, but that was probably because he hadn't been paying attention. If asked to describe himself, what would he say? "Hi, my name is Erik Matthews and I binge eat because I feel like no one loves me." He did indeed feel unloved. It had all started back when he was seven years old and his mother had begun to neglect him as she began to focus more on working rather than her son, much less her newborn daughter. She had left Erik to look after Marshmallow, his new little sister.
It hadn't been all bad. In fact, Erik actually enjoyed taking care of his baby sister. It hadn't been as hard as everyone made it sound. As long as she had a nursing bottle of warm milk and a clean diaper on, she had been fine. She had hated baby food. The only thing that she would take as food was a baby bottle of warm milk. She simply refused to eat baby food. He resented his mother for abandoning him in the apartment that they had lived in. While she was working from six in the morning to ten at night, he'd been busy doing his homework and taking care of Marshmallow. The only time he'd gotten any time to himself was when he had put Marshmallow to bed at six, with a baby bottle of warm milk and a clean diaper, of course. For the next three hours, he had worked on his homework and did some writing in his journal. He'd been writing ever since he had been seven years old, and over the past seventeen years, his writing style had certainly grown mature.
Most of his writing consisted of essays about how much he hated his mother for never showing him any affection, never paying attention to him, and never taking the time to listen to him. Since she was only home for eight hours, during which time she slept, he had been responsible for doing the dishes and keeping the house clean. He did this while Marshmallow watched TV, which only kept her interest for a while, just long enough for him to vaccum the floors, but after he put her to bed, he did the dishes, which took no time at all since he had one dish to clean: Marshmallow's baby bottle. He realized that he'd never be able to forgive his mother until after he got over his resentment towards her. Of course, she probably wouldn't accept his apology for the way he'd treated her. After all, he had argued with her often during his teen years. Their arguments usually ended with him telling her how much he hated her. Afterwards, however, they'd apologize and spend the afternoon watching a movie together, usually sharing a bowl of popcorn.
"Number nine, please step forward," the otter barked. He jumped. He watched as number nine stepped into the spotlight. Participant number nine was an extremely fat yellow female dog with beige fur from her muzzle to her rump. She looked like a Pomeranian, but she had short fur, not long fur like most Pomeranians. Like Erik, she also had a pink bow tied around her neck. She must've been a cross-breed between a Pomeranian and a Golden Retriever. She teased the audience by shaking her rump at the audience, which caused her bid to skyrocket. She was finally auctioned off at eight thousand dollars. Surely Erik wouldn't be auctioned off for as nearly that much. The corpulent skunk made a vow to call his mother and apologize to her as soon as he had the chance. She probably wouldn't accept his apology, but at least he would feel good about himself afterwards. He'd probably have to wait until he got past the weekend to call his mother. He'd be so busy over the weekend that he wouldn't have time to call his mother. He hoped that his owner would let him use the phone. Surely Colin would want to know how his weekend was going. His owner would have to let him use the phone then, wouldn't he? He wasn't sure why he was assuming his owner would be a male. He hoped that his owner would be a female. He wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because females were more fun, which was just his opinion; it wasn't a fact.
He watched as participants ten and eleven were auctioned off. Finally, it was his turn. As the otter ordered him to do so, he stepped forward, coating himself in white light, which made his black fur shinier than it already was. He achieved his glossy fur by bathing in a special shampoo and conditioner that he bought himself. Both of the haircare products certainly did bring out the highlights in his fur. The spotlight also brightened his green eyes, turning them into a lime green color.
"Erik Matthews is a college graduate with a Bachelor's degree in creative writing," the otter said, reading from a card he held in his paw.
"He enjoys reading, writing, sleeping, and eating."
"Obviously," someone yelled.
"Look how fat he is!" The audience roared with laughter.
Erik's ears drooped as he was reminded of his school years. He was never popular in school. He had been the fat kid that everyone had picked on and teased, mainly because he had been the fat kid. However, he had noticed that participant number nine, who had been identified as Angela, though everyone called her Angel for short, had been a lot fatter than he was. He wondered if she was like him. The only reason why he was so fat was because he had used food to comfort him and fill the void he felt in his life. Before he knew it, his appetite had completely gotten out of control to where he was eating for hours on end every day. The only time he had stopped was when he passed out from eating too much. He found it funny that he actually liked being fat. It really helped him during the winter. His body fat kept him warm.
"As I was saying," the otter snapped hotly, "Erik enjoys just about anything you're interested in, so feel free to use him to your advantage and feel free to do whatever you wish with him." No, don't say that, Erik thought. The rules of the auction stated that the owner was free to do whatever they wished with their pet and their pet couldn't do anything about it, so that meant that if his owner wanted to make love to him, he had to let her-or him (Oh, God, please let it be a her, Erik begged)-make love to him without objection. What upset him was that he couldn't sue his owner for sexual abuse if he actually did have relations with his owner.
"Let's start the bidding off at one hundred dollars," the otter suggested.
"Three hundred dollars," a female shouted, lifting up her paddle.
"We have three hundred dollars," the otter cried.
"Can anyone top that?"
"Seven hundred," another female voice hollered, also lifting her paddle.
The otter knelt down until he was eye-level with Erik.
"Take off your shirt and strut up and down the stage," he suggested to the overweight skunk.
"Your bid will go up higher if you do." Erik nodded to show that he understood. He took off his shirt (much to his relief since the spotlights were making him hot) and walked up and down the stage. He stopped, turned around, got down on all fours, and shook his rear end at the audience. His bid went up to nine hundred dollars. He stood up and put his paws behind his head and thrust his body outward. He grinned and rubbed his belly. His smile widened as his belly rubbing gave him a pleasant feeling.
"One thousand dollars," a male voice yelled.
Erik kept his act up. The auctioneer had been right. His act indeed was causing his bid to increase, slowly but surely. Eventually, the bidding was between two females, and Erik was shocked to hear his bid go up to five thousand dollars.
"Wow, these two really want to spend some time with Erik here," the otter cried.
"We're up to five thousand dollars, folks. Is there anyone out there who can go higher than five thousand?"
"Ten thousand dollars," a female voice cried.
"We have ten thousand dollars for Erik Matthews going once," the otter remarked.
"Going twice." Silence from the crowd.
"Sold to Ms. Cheryl Hightower," the otter cried as he banged his gavel. Erik sighed in relief. He grabbed his shirt and walked over to one end of the stage. Both ends of the stage had a set of stairs that led to the floor. His owner for the next seventy-two hours was absolutely gorgeous. She was a slender, tall brown otter with blond hair that covered her head. She had big brown eyes. She handed the auctioneer the ten thousand dollars and walked over to Erik.
"Oh, my," she cried as she examined her pet up and down.
"You were certainly worth the money." She petted his head.
"You're cute." He smiled. It wasn't a comment he got often. Most of the time he received the phrase, "Everybody get out of the way! Here comes the glutton!" He enjoyed the complement and decided to treasure it for the rest of his life. It was probably the last time he'd get a comment like it.
Cheryl tore off the pink bow that was tied around her pet's neck (much to his relief) and proposed and collar and a leash to him.
"I hope that's for you," he said.
"You're funny," she declared. She put the collar on him, then clipped the leash to the collar. She tugged on the leash.
"Come along, Erik." Erik followed her out a door that was located at the back of the room that led outside. It was nighttime. The night air was warm. A light breeze blew, blowing their fur on the two animals as they started down the sidewalk. As they walked past one part of the school, they both heard noise coming out of one of the doors.
"Oh, poo, they've already started the dance," Cheryl groaned. She jerked on the leash.
"Come on, Erik!" She led Erik through the door, which led to a large gym. The music was playing so loud that it was deafening. The gym was packed with various animals who were dancing to the beat of the music. The bass boost blasted through the large speakers that were attatched to the ceiling. It was more deafening than the music itself. The room was dark, lit only by stage lights that covered the room in shades of blue, red, green, yellow, and white. Some lights flashed, flickering on and off rapidly, coating the party attendants with light and coating them in darkness once again.
"You wanna dance?" Cheryl asked Erik.
"Sure," Erik replied, "though I should warn you that I'm not the best dancer in the world."
"Hey, don't worry about it," Cheryl remarked.
"In the words of Gloria Estefan, let the music move your feet." The two squeezed through a pair of prairie dogs dancing together and kept moving until they found an empty yet tight spot in the crowd. Aided by the rhythm of the music, they danced together with the lights rotating around them, going back and forth, back and forth. Erik moved his body from side to side, sliding his feet across the floor, his claws scratching against the floor as he did so. He smiled. He was actually having fun. He didn't know what he'd been so worried about. Best of all, his owner was a female and a very attractive one at that. She didn't appear to be the type who would force him to make love to her. Rather, she seemed like the type of person who liked having a good time and listening to good music. He hoped to get her number so they could hang out more often and do activities like they were doing now. He didn't think Colin would mind. After all, the coon was so busy with his auto shop that the two of them barely got to spend any time together anymore. He suddenly tripped over his own tail and fell to the floor on his face. It seemed like he was having trouble keeping his tail out of the way of his feet. He got up and tied his shirt around his waist, which was hard to to do due to the size of his stomach. He hoped that his shirt would keep his tail out of the way of his feet. He tripped again, this time over his own feet. Once again, he fell on his face.
Cheryl laughed and helped Erik to hsi feet. She hoped that he didn't think she was laughing at him.
"Here, let me help you." She pulled him so close to her that their bodies were touching each other, thus warming them both. The music died down to a slow dance song, as if them getting close together had been the DJ's cue to put on a slow song. He pulled away from her.
"Cheryl, no," he objected.
"I told you, I can't dance." She pulled him close to her body once again.
"Then let me show you how it's done," she suggested.
They began moving slowly, taking light steps so that Erik could get used to the feeling of the dance. After awhile, he seemed to be getting the hang of it.
"Are you feeling the groove yet?" she asked. Her breath smelled like mint-flavored gum and her body smelled like cinnamon, making him dizzy and temporarily lose his senses. The smell of her body seemed to intoxicate him.
"No, but I am feeling nauseous," he replied. He hoped that she didn't take it as an insult. He wasn't sure whether or not it was the smell of her body or the dancing that made him feel sick at his stomach. It was probably a combination of both. He felt her run her paws down his back and grip his rear, making him jump and squeak in surprise. He felt her run her paws through his tail, starting at the base and working her way up to the tip. Apparently, his comment hadn't bothered her at all. After the song ended, a fast-paced song started playing but the skunk and the otter didn't stay to dance. They went outside for some fresh air and relaxation. They sat down on a stone bench just outside of the gym with the music more than audible from where they were sitting.
"Sorry," Erik apologized as he panted.
"I don't do this often."
"Don't worry about it," Cheryl replied.
Erik undid his shirt and wiped at his damp fur. His throat was sore and his lungs seemed to have been squeezed out of oxygen, leaving only a few breaths left before he keeled over from exhaustion. Now he knew why he never danced: it was because it was too exhausting for him. He made a mental note to savor the last few breaths before he passed out. What he wouldn't do for an ice-cold Coke at the moment. Cheryl must've been reading his thoughts because she led him to a flower shop, which, much to their utmost relief, was air-conditioned.
"First I want to show you off to a friend of mine, then we'll go home," she told him. They entered the flower shop, which smelt of soil, leaves, and, of course, flowers. There was a counter with a cash register on it. On either side of them were aisles with flowers on display and gardening tools and supplies. There was a window to their left that had the name "Muriel's Flower Garden" in big green capital letters. The wall to their right had a portrait of a few flowers in a vase that rested on a table that hung from it (as if no one's seen a portrait like that before, Erik thought). Beyond the counter in front of them was a door that had a sign on it. The sign read, "Employees and employers only." The letters were red, surrounded by the white board that made up the sign's perimeter. The door itself stood ajar. On either wall beside the door were signs promoting special deals from none other than the store's manager, Muriel Winslow.
"Buy two flowerpots, get the third one free!"
"Buy one package of seeds, get a free shovel!" The advertisements were just like the sign on the door behind the counter: dull and unexciting. In fact, the first time Erik saw them he thought that they were cut-out advertisements made out of cardboard. Cheryl led Erik over to the counter. She hit the bell that rested beside the cash register.
"Muriel," she called. A gray squirrel emerged from the room behind the door. She walked up to the counter.
With a grunt, Cheryl picked Erik up and set him on the counter.
"I've got someone I'd like you to meet," she said.
Feeling the bell pressing against his behind, Erik took a few steps forward. He felt Cheryl pet his head. He smiled, enjoying the petting.
"Ooh," Muriel squealed.
"Where did you get this fine specimen?"
"Pet auction," Cheryl said as she kept petting Erik.
"I paid ten thousand dollars for him. I get to keep him for the weekend." Muriel poked Erik's big, round belly.
"Oh, he's a porker, isn't he?" she said. She jerked her finger back when he made an attempt to bite it. Cheryl grabbed a rolled up newspaper from a basket that had several rolled up newspapers in it on the counter. She gently whacked Erik on the head with it.
"No, Erik," she snapped.
"Bad boy." She leaned closer to his ear.
"Would you mind going over there?" She pointed to one of the three-shelved cases that were across from them. Erik nodded. The top of the case was within the length of the leash. Without a word to either female, he walked across the counter to the edge and hopped over to the top of the case that was in front of him. He watched as the two females leaned towards each other. They whispered something together, then laughed. He wished he could hear what they were saying. He hoped they weren't talking about him. He'd had enough of that during his school years.
His bullying had gotten so bad that he had contemplated committing suicide. In fact, on the day he'd met Colin, he'd been walking home from school, planning on killing himself that afternoon. Colin had walked home with him, helped him with his math homework (his worst subject), and had spent the afternoon with him. The two of them quickly became best friends. In a way Colin had saved his life, but he never told Colin about his suicidal thoughts and tendencies. Through spending time with the coon, he had been able to combat his depression and develop a positive outlook on life. He was grateful to Colin for defending him against his bullies throughout middle school and high school at the cost of his popularity. When signaled by Cheryl, the overweight skunk jumped back over to the counter. He was picked up by Cheryl, who stroked his fur as he lied cradled in her arms like a cat or an infant.
"I'll be right back," Muriel stated. She disappeared through the door behind her. Erik was reminded of his sore throat and of how thirsty he was when he heard the clinking of glass bottles. He hoped that Muriel wasn't getting them beer. He didn't know how he would explain it to his mother if he was arrested for drunk and disorderly conduct, and he didn't want to think about how she would react. She'd freak out and ground him until he was thirty. Luckily for him, that was only six years away. He smiled. Even at age twenty-four, he was a "momma's boy," as some people would call him. That was just fine with him. At least he had a mother, although she had treated him like dirt over the past seventeen years.
Muriel came back in the room carrying two glass bottles of Coke, the old ones before the company had started putting them in plastic bottles.
"You two look like you could use these," she said as she handed one bottle to Cheryl and the other to Erik.
"Thanks," Cheryl and Erik said in unison. Cheryl once again set Erik on the counter. She wrenched open the bottle and took a long drink. Erik examined the bottle like an archaeologist examining an ancient artifact.
"Coca-Cola," the letters imprinted on the bottle read. Coca-Cola. It had been his mother's favorite drink, and his. He remembered how he'd sneak a glass of the drink in the middle of the night, although he always told his mother that he was getting water whenever she asked what he was doing up from her bedroom. He had been glad that she trusted him enough not to get up to see what he was really doing. He got the prefix "Coca-" in the drink. His mother had explained it to him. Apparently, when the beverage was first being made, the company had added cocaine (hence, the prefix "Coca-") to the recipe, which was what made it so addicting. She hadn't seemed to mind that he drank her Coke. Of course, her brother, and his uncle who was married to his Aunt Ellie, had gotten him addicted to two drinks that had been new to him, but had certainly been around for quite some time: Mello Yello and Mountain Dew. His cousin had told him that both drinks were actually urine mixed with sugar to give them their sweet taste, but he had found out later on that everyone said that about the two soft drinks. He opened his own bottle of Coke and took a drink, then let out a sigh. The cold drink soothed both his aching throat and his thirst, and he felt the same sensation erupt in his body from his head down to his toes that had occurred the first time he'd drunk the drink.
"We'd better get going," Cheryl suggested.
"Nice talking to you, Muriel."
"You, too," Muriel replied.
"Nice to meet you, Erik." She shook his paw.
"Same here," he agreed as he returned the handshake. He felt a tug on his leash and he realized that it was time to leave. He dropped to the floor and followed Cheryl out the door.
"What do you say about you and me going back to my place?" she asked.
"I thought you'd never ask," he replied.
"Lead the way!" Unfortunately, he wished he'd never spoken those words moments later. He walked behind her with her choking him with the leash and his feet hurting from the excess walking. He should've suggested that she carry him to "her place." He didn't think she'd have a problem with that, but with her suffocating him, he wasn't able to get the words out. And if he had to walk a block further, he was going to keel over from exhaustion. The hot air wasn't doing him much good, either. It only made him feel more exhausted. Plus, it made him wish he had drank his Coke in small portions instead of chugging it. He had discarded the bottle a few blocks away. He wished he still had the bottle at least. He started walking with his claws instead of his feet, hoping this would help relax his feet. It worked, but the constant clicking of his claws against the sidewalk annoyed him and he quickly found himself walking with his feet again. He sighed. Didn't Cheryl have a car, or was she one of those environmentalists who believed in not using cars since they contributed to global warming? If she was, then he had no interest in pursuing her after this weekend was over and done with. He didn't want her stuffing him with her beliefs. He got enough of that with church fanatics. Now if she was stuffing him with food, then it'd be a completely different story. If she did that (he hoped she stuffed him with pancakes until he burst), then he'd be fully interested in pursuing her once the weekend was over. Thanks to Colin, Erik was a Christian. Before Colin had come along, Erik had felt unloved by both his family and mother. It had been Colin who had told the suicidally-depressed skunk about the love God had for him. So much, in fact, that He had sent His only begotten son Jesus to die for his sins. At one point in time, Erik had been a Christian, long before Colin had come along, but once his mother had abandoned him (at least that's the way he saw it), he had strayed from his faith in Christ. However, after Colin reminded him of how much God loved him, he rededicated his life to Christ. Looking back now, Erik believed that God Himself had called Colin to be his friend, and if He had, then he was glad He had.
At long last, Erik and Cheryl reached her house. It looked like any typical American home: small and white, though many American homes varied in size and color. Too bad all mobile homes (or trailers for the rednecks, hicks, hillbillies, and feeble-minded folk) looked the same, but at least they varied in color.
"Finally," Erik cried. He collapsed on the sidewalk behind Cheryl. Cheryl laughed.
"Come on, cutie," she encouraged.
"Just a few more steps, I promise." Erik struggled to his feet like a severely beaten person.
"I don't see how you do this," he groaned. He supposed that his exhaustion was mainly because of his weight. Since he was heavier than her, he used more energy than her, making him more tired than her. In other words, he got tired easier and faster than she did. She took his paw. He allowed himself to be led inside the house like an infant.
"Make yourself at home," she told Erik.
"I'll go run your bath water." She walked past the kitchen in front of them and entered a room that was past a doorway that led to a bedroom that was past the bathroom. The room in front of Erik was the living room. The couch was pushed up against the wall to his left. Above the couch was a picture. To the right was a TV. Beyond the living room was the kitchen. The floor was the color of vanilla. To the right was a long wooden table that was pushed up against the wall. To the left was the sink. To the right of that was the microwave and to the right of that was the refrigerator. Above the sink was a window that gave the occupant a great side view of the neighbor's house. Erik's claws scratched against the navy blue carpeting of the living room. To the left was another bedroom. Inside was a bunk that was pushed up against the wall. Beside the bed, underneath a window that was covered with white shades, was a TV resting on top of a table with a cabinet. In front of it was a Nintendo 64 that had several games surrounding it. A purple controller and a yellow controller were plugged into the first two controller ports. Plugged into the other two controller ports was a gray controller and a green controller. Pushed up against the wall to the left was a large wooden dresser that had a large mirror attatched to it. Covering the dresser's top was a white cotton covering that covered the top edge-to-edge. The dresser had six drawers. To the left was another table with a TV on it. The wall to the left of that had a window, this one also covered by white blinds. The carpet was a beige color. Erik went back to the living room and examined the picture that was above the couch. He turned his attention to the bathroom when he heard the sound of running water, then turned his gaze back to the picture. The picture was yet another portrait of a vase of flowers, this one sitting on top of a stone pinaacle. He sighed and shook his head. When was he going to see an artist produce a work that was actually original? "Erik, time for your bath," he heard Cheryl call. He walked past the kitchen and entered the bathroom. The sink was connected to the wall to his right. There was a cabinet underneath it. A glass held three toothbrushes on the corner of the sink. A tube of toothpaste was beside it. A mirror was attatched to the wall above the sink. Above the mirror and above the wooden perimeter of the mirror were four large lightbulbs that were lit, giving the room more light. A toilet was to the left of the sink. The tub was in front of Erik. A window was above the tub to the left, covered with white blinds. Resting on one of the corners of the tub was a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner. On another corner was a bar of soap. A navy blue rug rested on the white floor in front of the tub. To the left was a set of white shelves that held bottles of shampoo and conditioner and other haircare products, such as hairspray and mousse.
A towel rack was beside the light switch that was to the wall on right of the sink and mirror. Erik walked across the room and stepped into the tub. The water was warm, not too hot and not too cold. A bath would do him some good. Cheryl picked up the white wash rag that was resting on the burgundy towel that rested on the navy blue rug. She dipped the rag in the water, drenching it in the liquid. He had his head washed with shampoo and conditioner. Next, he had his body bathed with soap. The bath seemed to relax him, but it also made him somewhat sleepy. He hoped that she'd put him to bed after his bath. She pulled out the plug, causing the water to flow down the drain and out of sight. She picked him up and wrapped him up in the burgundy towel. She quickly dried him off, causing his fur to stand up on end.
"Thank you for cooperating," she said.
"If you get cross with me, I'll have to beat you with a newspaper. Understand?" He nodded to show that he understood. She grabbed a comb and combed his fur down. She picked him up and carried him to the bedroom. She walked past the bedroom and entered a dark room through another doorway that was located in the bedroom. She turned on the light, revealing the room to be a nursery. To their right was a dresser with three drawers that was pushed up against the wall. To their left, pushed up against the wall, was a changing table. In front of them was a window covered by blinds. Below that was a crib that was pushed up against the wall that the window occupied. The wall to the left of the changing table contained a closet. She was expecting him to kick at her in an attempt to get away from her, but to her utmost surprise, he didn't move. He was perfectly still, as if he realized that she had every right to do whatever she wished with him. She carried him over to the changing table and laid him down. She grabbed some baby powder from one of the crates that were attatched to teh changing table. She gripped his ankles and lifted them and sprinkled some baby powder on his bottom. Next, she grabbed two diapers from a separate crate and set them beside him. She unfolded one of them and slid it underneath him. She pulled his tail through the hole in the diaper, then pulled the front end of the diaper over his private area, tucking his member inside the diaper before doing so. She finally taped the sides together. She put a second diaper on him. She gave him a questioning look, wondering whether or not she should put more diapers on him.
He gave her a nod, giving her permission to put more diapers on him. He was diapered five more times. One thing that he noticed was that the more diapers that were put on him, the more comfortable he felt. Once she had put the seventh and last diaper on him, she walked across the room to the dresser. Apparently, she had the clothes in the drawers arranged by size, because she opened the third drawer and took out a large blue shirt. She closed the drawer with her foot, then walked back over to Erik.
"This should fit you," she said as she slipped the shirt on him. She was surprised by his cooperation. Most adults would be against being treated like an infant, but he acted as if it didn't bother him at all, as if he relished in what was going on. She appreciated his cooperation very much, and she hoped that he would continue to cooperate with her, otherwise she'd have to give him a few whackings on his bottom with the newspaper if he refused to cooperate with her. But he'd probably enjoy the activity of getting spanked by a beautiful otter such as herself. She picked him up and kissed his nose.
"You look so cute," she stated.
"If you don't believe me, take a look for yourself." She put him on the floor. He went to the bathroom and hopped onto the sink. He looked at himself in the mirror. He turned to the side, then faced the mirror once again. He did look rather fetching. He made sure to model diapers if he was ever given the opportunity. He looked great in diapers, but that was just his opinion. He wasn't sure how anyone else would feel. He knew that Colin would encourage him to become a diaper model. He knew that there were magazines targeted towards teen babies and adult babies, such as himself.
Cheryl picked him up once again and carried him in her arms like he was an infant.
"I bet you're hungry," she said.
"Let's see if we can't find you something to eat." They went to the kitchen. With one paw on his diapered rump, she opened the fridge. Sitting on one shelf were several nursing bottles of milk. She grabbed one and put it in the microwave for a few seconds. He watched the baby bottle spin 'round and 'round on the plate in the microwave as the plate rotated. Once the seconds were up, she opened the microwave door and touched the bottle to test its temperature. The bottle was warm.
Perfect. He licked his lips. She took out the baby bottle, then closed the door to the microwave. She carried the bottle and Erik to the living room. She sat down on the couch and proposed the bottle of warm milk to him. She shoved the nipple in his mouth after he opened it without reluctance. The milk was sweet, as if honey had been mixed with it. His taste buds indicated that the sweet substance was indeed honey. He sucked on the nipple slowly, wanting to savor the taste of the milk. His leg kicked as he continued to drink the milk. As he kept drinking, his sucking became faster. He grabbed the upper part of the bottle while she held the bottom part of the container. His claws scratched against the plastic bottle. She wasn't an environmentalist. If she was, then she wouldn't have had plastic baby bottles. That was a good thing, because it meant that he could continue to spend time with her after the weekend was over with. She smiled at him as she continued to bottle-feed him. She was thrilled that he was enjoying himself. If she was lucky, he would want to continue to be her baby throughout the rest of the weekend, at least until Colin came to pick him up on Sunday night. His diaper rustled and became crinkled as he continued to kick the pillow in front of him. His tail thumped gently against the couch while he drank the liquid. Halfway through the bottle, he began to feel tired. His eyes began to droop. He hoped that she'd give him a second bottle, but he would probably be too tired to drink it all. He'd probably get halfway through the second bottle before he finally fell asleep. If he fell asleep after his first bottle, he wouldn't have minded. It'd been a long, tiresome evening. To say the least, he was exhausted. He just hoped that he could stay awake long enough to finish the bottle. He feared, however, that she would make love to him while he slept, but she didn't appear to be that kind of person at all, so there was no reason to worry. Besides, he'd probably be sleeping in the crib, anyway, which was just fine with him. She'd probably be sleeping in her own bed throughout the weekend, at least he hoped so. If she was sleeping in the same room as him, then there was a reason to worry. For all he knew, she could've mixed drugs with the milk, but she didn't appear to be that type of person, either.
His legs and his tail decelerated as a deep sleep slowly overtook him. He had to stay awake, at least long enough to finish the bottle of milk. After that, he could sleep for as long as he wanted.
His sucking also slowed down as a dark cloud of sleepiness overtook his body. He watched as the milk went down lower and lower as he kept drinking. He would be done soon. Just a few more drinks, then he'd finally be able to lie down and go to sleep. She could see that he was struggling to stay awake. She smiled. Nothing like a hot bath and a nice bottle of warm milk to knock a person out for the night. As he was taking his final gulps of milk, he thought back to his babyhood and he remembered how much he had enjoyed being in his mother's arms. He felt warm and safe while in his mother's arms. Even now he felt warm and safe in Cheryl's arms. He had his mother's smiling face branded in his memory. He kept that memory locked in his mind. He wanted to have it with him when he went to sleep, that way he could have a pleasant rest throughout the night. He was surprised that Colin hadn't called him yet to see how his weekend was going so far. Maybe Colin had called him within the past thirty or so minutes. He wouldn't be sure until he checked his voice-mail. But who knew when that was going to be? He had turned his phone off when he and Colin had left for the auction. At the moment, he was too tired to check his voice-mail. If he wanted to do it tomorrow, he'd have to wake up before Cheryl did. However, he wasn't sure whether he should call Colin first or his mother. He finally went to sleep. She set the bottle on the floor and carried him to the nursery. She put him in the crib and covered him with a blanket before putting a pillow underneath his head. She gave him a kiss good night.
"Sweet dreams," she said. She left the room. He didn't wake up until six o' clock in the morning. He lowered the railing of the crib and hopped over it, landing on the floor with a gentle thud. He found his white T-shirt in the bathroom near the toilet where he'd left it last night. He picked it up and pulled out his phone from the shirt pocket. His diaper was wet from where he had urinated at some point in the night. He made a mental note to tell Cheryl to change him as soon as she got up. She wouldn't wake up until nine or ten. He dialed for his voice-mail. He had one new message.
"Erik, this is Colin," Colin's voice stated.
"Call me as soon as you get the chance. I want to know how your weekend is going so far. I'll see you on Sunday night. I'll be there around seven. Bye." He dialed his mother's phone number. He got her voice-mail.
"This is Renee Matthews," she said.
"I'm sorry I missed your call. Leave your name and number and I just might call you back." After he heard the tone, he said, "Mama, it's me, Erik. Call me as soon as you can. I need to talk to you. Bye." He ended the call, which brought him back to his wallpaper. His call had lasted only fifteen seconds. He doubted that his mother would call him back, but at least he felt better. He couldn't call Colin until ten in the morning. He wasn't about to call him at six in the morning. If he did, Colin would be very angry at him for interrupting his slumber so early in the morning. He'd wait until Colin had a chance to take a shower, get dressed, have some breakfast, and drink some coffee before he called Colin. For the time being, he wanted to get four extra hours of sleep. He almost collapsed in the bedroom as he headed back to the nursery. He climbed back into the crib and went back to sleep with his head resting on a pillow and his body covered with a blanket. Only four more hours until his owner woke up. Four grueling hours . . .
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