Suitable for Ages 3 and Up

Lil' Warty Hugeman and The Diabolical Nursery of Dr. Buttouch:
A Lil' Warty Adventure Tale 

Lil' Warty Hugeman scaled the side of the sofa. It was a good vantage point; he could see three entrances to the living chamber they had broken into. Warty reached down to help Lil' Marissa up. It was like she weighed nothing. Lil' Warty Hugeman was a very muscular toddler.

"Thank Ba'al you still have your strength, Warty," Marissa said, her unfused soft palate giving her the cutest lisp.

"Buttouch's weapon was able to de-age our bodies, but it couldn't strip away our essential natures. I have always been strong, all the way back to the day that I tore myself out of my mother." He patted his six-pack with a powerful hand and smiled at the memory.

"Now that we are out of the lab I can get status updates on my bioware," Marissa said. "I think I can instantiate my suit."

Warty nodded and farted wetly into his timediaper. He wasn't sure if what the timesuit had been reduced to was functional at all. His infant nervous system wasn't coupled to the suit any longer and only the crude exterior controls worked. The onboard Limited AI was barely more than a graphing calculator after being hit with the de-aging beam and Warty had been forced to lock it out of general systems. He was afraid if he attempting a time jump, the timediaper might take only his pelvis to a different spacetime. Warty rather liked his pelvis.

Marissa struggled out of her "Little Stinker" t-shirt and peeled off her diaper to stand nude on the couch cushions.

"You could have warned me," Warty said, turning his back to her.

"Don't be such a pussy," Marissa said. "Were both babies, for fuck's sake."

"It's just weird."

"You've seen me naked a thousand times," she said, wiping her wispy blond hair back with a chubby hand.

"This kind of shit is how rumors get started," Warty pouted.

Marissa began trying to summon her suit from unspace, focusing her attention on the bioware construct of the suit in her mind's eye. It was usually so easy, ever since hoodwinking the Brainarchy out of the upgrades. She just had to imagine herself wearing the suit and it appeared. She formed the image of her adult body, tall and strong, a silvered abstraction in the suit as it engulfed her completely. She grunted with the strain.

"Are you pooping back there?" Warty asked.

"Shut up, I almost had it."

Marissa furrowed her smooth brow until the answer came to her. She was no longer her adult self. She was not longer strong or tall. She imagined a baby—stubby legs and arms, lolling giant head—and let the silver swallow it. Marissa open her eyes and saw that she was wearing a silver onesie.

"Uh, that doesn't look right," Warty said.

"I thought you weren't looking," she said.

"There's a, uh, smell when you instantiate your suit."

"A smell? What are you on about?"

"It's not a bad smell," Warty said, holding up both hands.

"What does it smell like?" Marissa demanded.

"It smells like what it smells like." Warty shrugged and grinned, showing his toothless gums.

"Does it smell bad?"

"Not anymore."

"What do you mean by that?" Marissa put her little hands on her baby hips.

"Look, can we talk about your bioware odor after we get the hell out of here?"

"So now it's an 'odor?'"

"By all the Gods of Death Metal, give it a rest, woman!"

"We are going to talk about this when we get back to the fortress."

"Yeah, yeah," Warty said. He jumped off the side of the couch and held his arms out.

"You are a very weird-looking baby, you know," Marissa said, before jumping into his strong embrace.