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Jeremy had a little problem. Well, it was a _big _problem, but it was a problem with being little. Since he was a mouse, he was much smaller than a lot of the other furs he would encounter around town. Of course, this was not an unusual situation to be in; many mice, rabbits, and other small creatures could find themselves chest-high or worse to a bigger fur. It was just a hazard of being that sort of animal. That wasn't Jeremy's problem. Whereas other mice (or squirrels, or any other creature around that size) got used to being smaller than most of the other types of animals around them, Jeremy would always have a strange reaction whenever he found himself around a particularly large sort of fur.

Seeing somebody bigger than him, at least when they were noticeably larger (it usually required the other fur to be at least half again his own size before he started to feel any different) caused some strange feelings to stir in the mouse's head. It wasn't just that the presence of these bigger furs made him feel small, it was that they made him feel little. It was very strange. Being around somebody who made him appear relatively cub-sized actually made him feel cubby.

Finding himself anywhere below chest height with another fur was just about when the mouse would start feeling a bit odd. He would find himself getting a bit anxious and shy, he would start nibbling on his lip or the tip of his thumb, and even though he never noticed it, his vocabulary would get less advanced and he would start using shorter sentences and words with fewer syllables. These outward signs were accompanied by powerful feelings of a kind of profound smallness which - while not entirely unpleasant - were certainly quite strange, and Jeremy was not eager to explore them any more than he had to. And all of this only got more intense the larger the other fur was. So the mouse would usually try to quickly excuse himself whenever he found himself interacting with somebody that much bigger than he was. More than once, by the time he got his head clear, he noticed that he wet his pants in his cubbyish daze.

So it should come as no surprise at this point that Jeremy spent a fair amount of his time trying to avoid coming into contact entirely with furs who were sufficiently bigger than him to trigger this odd reaction. He learned pretty quickly what parts of town he should avoid, because they were more often frequented by bigger furs. If he wasn't careful, he'd find himself sucking on his thumb in public or hopping around grabbing his crotch, desperate to pee and looking just like an overgrown toddler. This is quite an embarrassing experience, as you might imagine, so he learned to be careful very quickly. While this odd little quirk did have an effect on Jeremy's life, it wasn't really a big deal (no pun intended). He may have been quick to make up a reason to leave if he saw a significantly larger fur nearby, but it didn't really come up all that often.

Considering how careful he was, it was strange that he had gotten himself lost one day. He wasn't normally inclined to wandering around, since Jeremy never knew when he'd stumble across a popular hang-out for unusually large furs, like horses or lions. But that day, he had thought he had discovered a new short-cut, but it turned out to have led him in a completely wrong direction. He was walking down the sidewalk and looking all around himself, trying to find some sort of landmark that he recognized, so that he could figure out just where he was and get back on course. One of the other dangers of being small is that you don't have a particularly good vantage point for reconnaissance. Maybe that was the reason that he somehow managed to completely miss the rather large obstacle standing in front of him on the sidewalk until it was too late, and he had already run face-first into a big, denim-clad rump.

He must have been walking along at a pretty good clip, because the force of his muzzle's collision with that soft backside sent him tumbling backwards, where he lost his balance and landed squarely on his rear on the sidewalk. He raised a paw to rub his muzzle for a moment and then looked up to see what he had run into. Once he got a look at it, he was more than a little surprised that he could have missed it before.

Towering over him was a massive malamute. The huge dog was definitely the biggest fur that Jeremy had ever seen up close, and probably was one of the biggest he had ever seen anywhere. And he wasn't just tall - though he certainly was that, as the tips of the mouse's rather large ears only just barely came up to the base of the malamute's curled tail - he was big in every dimension. He was broad-shouldered and bulky, while fairly bursting out of his t-shirt and jeans, even though in all likelihood those were the largest sizes that were easily available. The tightness of the material around his biceps, which were only half-covered by the sleeves of the shirt, his stomach, which kept peeking out because the shirt wouldn't quite reach down to the waist of his pants, most likely thanks to the size of his pecs, all made it look like his shirt could rip at the seams at any moment. And his pants were not in much better condition, as the tough denim nearly looked painted on around the malamute's calves, his thighs, his rump, and as the big dog turned around to see what had bumped into him, the tightness was especially noticeable around the bulge in the malamute's crotch. It was prominent enough, particularly from Jeremy's low vantage point, that he almost couldn't help but stare at it.

And stare is just what the mouse did, as he sat there and took in the towering figure of the malamute he had just accidentally collided with. While his eyes grew wide and his muzzle hung slack, Jeremy could feel what seemed to be a strange tingling sensation inside his head, almost like the sort of needly feeling you might feel after your foot has fallen asleep. As the sheer enormity of the malamute above him began to sink in - and this was all taking place in a very short amount of time, nowhere near as long as it is taking me to describe it, an instant really, as the malamute turned around and regarded the mouse where he sat on the sidewalk - that sort of numbness spread all down to his chest and radiated out to his limbs, making them feel all funny and sort of rubbery all the way down to the tips of his toes.

"Oh!" came the malamute's deep, booming woof from above him, the resonance of his basso profondo voice making the mouse shake where he sat. "What do we have here?" The malamute crouched down, placing his paws on his knees as he lowered himself closer to the rodent, and the effect was rather like zooming in on a picture, particularly a picture of something that already appeared quite large. The malamute now dominated the mouse's field of vision, and while he had seemed big before, he now seemed absolutely colossal. Jeremy tried to answer the question, to explain that he hadn't been paying enough attention where he was going, and that he was sorry for bumping into the big dog.

But when he tried to move his lips to form the words, he found that his muscles weren't quite working right. His tongue felt too thick, and though he tried to form the words, his muzzle simply wasn't responding properly to the signals that were being sent from his brain. The only sounds he was able to make came out as adorably nonsensical babbling and gurgling, but he didn't notice that fact until he had been going at it for a good twenty or thirty seconds. While he thought he was saying, "I'm terribly sorry for running into you, mister malamute! I'm afraid I've gotten myself a bit lost and I just wasn't looking where I was going," he was actually just emitting a mostly random string of fairly indistinct vowels and consonants that didn't even come close to conveying the message he was hoping to great across, or any message at all. He only realized what he was doing when he noticed that the malamute's expression hadn't changed, and remained sort of curiously amused as he looked the mouse over.

Finally, his big, canine muzzle spread into a grin as he raised a heavy paw and dropped it onto Jeremy's head, quieting the mouse's attempts to explain himself. The dog's palm was large enough to cover the mouse's noggin and mostly flatten his ears, and his fingers were so long he could have tapped the mouse's jaw with the tip of his index finger, if he had wanted to. Instead, he just gently rubbed and patted Jeremy's head in a reassuring fashion. "You're a cute little guy, aren't you? Where are your mommy and daddy, little buddy?"

It probably goes without saying that this wasn't the response that Jeremy was expecting. He shut his muzzle and scrunched up his face into a puzzled expression, furrowing his brow and pursing his lips. He was just trying to figure out what had prompted this unusual reaction from the big malamute, but the canine must have thought the mouse was trying to figure out where his parents were. He let out a soft "Aww," and quickly slid those massive paws right under Jeremy's armpits and effortlessly lifted him off the sidewalk. The dog stood up, and in a moment the mouse's sneaker-clad feet were dangling in the air, higher than the tips of his ears would have been if he were standing on the ground. This sudden change in elevation was also a surprise, and the malamute noticed the anxiety on Jeremy's face and began trying to reassure him as he said, "Hey there, don't worry, little squeaker. It's going to be okay! We'll find your folks."

This was all happening too fast for Jeremy to process, and he was having trouble thinking straight. He was beginning to realize what was going on, but he wasn't sure what to do about it. Being dangled in the air by the enormous malamute certainly wasn't helping him suppress his cubbyish reaction, as he quickly realized that he was on the smaller end of toddler-sized, relative to the canine. His inability to speak like an adult the last time he had tried made him reluctant to try it again, but he couldn't think of another way to explain his situation.

While he was trying to figure a way out of his predicament, he noticed that the malamute was glancing at his shoes and chuckling softly. When Jeremy looked down himself, he saw that he was in fact dripping and that he had left a sizable puddle on the sidewalk, beneath where he was sitting a moment ago. He stared at it in bewilderment for a moment before he realized what it was, but the mystery was solved when he heard the malamute say, in that same deep, booming voice, "Uh-oh, it looks like somebody had a little accident. I hope I didn't scare you! I know I'm pretty big, but I'm a nice doggie. Don't worry!"

To emphasize his point, the malamute brought the mouse close to his muzzle and applied a big, wet slurp over his face. Of course, Jeremy was absolutely mortified. He was squirming in the canine's grip as he blushed brightly through the fur on his cheeks. In response, the canine adjusted the manner in which he was holding the embarrassed mouse, by cradling him in the crook of his right arm, so the mouse's head was leaning against the malamute's shoulder, his thighs were supported by the dog's forearm, his back was resting against a huge bicep. Let me tell you, if you thought being dangled in the air by someone more than twice your size would make you feel small, this position does the trick much more effectively.

Jeremy's head was spinning, by this point. Or at least, it certainly felt that way. It was very difficult to think straight, or to even think of anything at all, except to marvel at just how big this canine was. With his body held snugly against the malamute's chest, he could feel the big dog's heartbeat, thudding softly against his side. It - along with everything else that had happened since he had bumped into the canine - made him feel exceptionally and unequivocally miniscule. While that is probably a perfectly reasonable reaction, considering the fact that he was objectively much smaller than the malamute in every respect, he was still shocked at the intensity of his body's infantile response. He had never felt anything like this before, and if he hadn't known better, he would have thought that the malamute was deliberately trying to make it worse.

"There we go," the big dog cooed down at the mouse in a surprisingly gentle voice, although being pressed against the malamute's chest allowed Jeremy to feel the rumbling vibrations in addition to just hearing them. The sensation made him shiver, which prompted the canine to raise his free paw and tickle under the mouse's chin. "Don't be scared, now. Everything's going to be okay. My name's Ryan. What's your name, little buddy?" After he asked the question, he lifted his paw and softly -beeped- Jeremy's nose with his fingertip. He tried to answer, he really did. But the only noises he was able to make were a few quiet gurgling noises. He certainly wasn't able to produce any sounds that anyone would have recognized as "Jeremy." The malamute just smiled and patted his head again. "It's okay to be shy, little dude. I'll just call you Squeaker for now, okay?"

Since it was quickly becoming apparent to Ryan that the little mouseboy he was carrying wasn't going to be able to tell him where he had come from, the malamute began looking around while musing to himself about what he should do with the wayward (and wet) rodent. "Well, I don't see your mommy or daddy anywhere nearby." And from his height, he would have been able to spot anybody who could have been the mouse's caretakers without any trouble. Of course, the reason that he wasn't finding anyone who could fill that role is that there wasn't anybody like that around, and in fact, the mouse couldn't even have imagined needing anyone like that as recently as a few moments ago. "My house is right around the corner, Squeaker. How about we head back there and get you cleaned up," he patted the drippy seat of the mouse's pants as he said this, to remind him of his accident, "and then we can figure out how to get you home, okay?"

Ryan simply trotted off towards his house, since he wasn't going to wait for the mouse to reply. The short walk (it may have actually been quite a distance for the mouse under normal circumstances, but thanks to the length of the malamute's legs, he could cover a lot of ground) gave Jeremy his first moment to try and think clearly about his predicament and what he could do about it. Or at least, he tried to think of a way out of it. For the most part, his mind kept wandering back to the sheer awe he felt at how big Ryan was, and how little and helpless it made him feel to be carried like this. He never would have dreamed that his occasional regressive tendencies could ever express themselves with this intensity, but there wasn't much he could do about it at this point. And it wasn't at all encouraging when the malamute was walking up the steps to what must have been his house and Jeremy noticed that he had been contentedly sucking on his thumb for some indeterminate period of time.

The malamute's house was big. Not in the way that it was a mansion or anything like that, just that it was scaled to Ryan's height. As Jeremy looked at the front door, he realized he might have had to stand on the tips of his toes and stretch just to reach the knob, where he standing on the welcome mat which could have been a bedsheet for him, considering its dimensions. Or it might have just seemed that things were bigger than they really were. As the malamute carried the mouse into a house where everything was more than twice the size it should have been, it all started feeling very surreal and almost dream-like to the mouse. The strangeness of the whole situation only increased when Ryan was greeted by a female malamute, clearly older than he was but nearly as big, maybe not as muscular but still thickly built, as many specimens of that breed are wont to be.

"Hi there, Mom," Ryan called out, while he was shutting the door behind him.

The lady malamute seemed to be on her way to do something, but she stopped in her tracks when she saw the little bundle of mouse in Ryan's arm. "Oh!" she exclaimed, her ears perking in surprise as she walked up to join her son in the entryway. Her muzzle spread into a smile as she leaned in to inspect the mouseboy, with his thumb still planted firmly between his lips. "And who's your new little friend?"

"He's a shy little guy. I found him all by himself, out on the sidewalk. I couldn't just leave him out there! You don't know him or his parents, do you?" The mother malamute look at Jeremy for a moment and then shook her head.

"Oh, no. I'm sure I'd remember an adorable little sweetie like him. He's got the cutest little chubby cheeks!" Jeremy shut his eyes and grunted as he suddenly found his cheeks pinched in between Ryan's mom's thumb and index finger, while she cooed down at him, "Who's a cute little baby? Who's a cute little baby? You are! That's right, you are!" She stopped fussing over him for a moment as her sensitive canine nose twitched and she glanced back up at Ryan. "Smells like he's wet."

The malamute nodded in response and once again patted the mouse on the damp seat of his pants. "Yeah, he piddled on me a bit. I think I'm going to take him to Kyle's old room and get him cleaned up."

The mouse continued to squirm against Ryan's arm as the malamute's mother continued to babytalk to him. "Doesn't that sound nice? I bet it does! Uncle Ryan's going to get you out of those silly piddle pants and into something clean and dry." She patted Jeremy in between his ears and then nodded to her son, "I think that's a good idea. I'll call some of the neighbors and see if he might have been visiting one of them, in the meantime."

The babytalk had come of something of a shock to Jeremy, and he wasn't prepared for the effect it had on him. While the simple presence of Ryan was what had put him in this state, it wasn't something that was directed towards him; and the high-pitch, softened consonants, and sing-song tone that Ryan's mother used when she spoke to him sent these strange sensations radiating up and down his spine. And that was only from the way that she spoke when she was talking directly to him. The fact that the rest of the time Ryan and his mother were talking over him, as if he wasn't even there, or at least as if he wasn't a factor in the conversation. All of that together gave him the strangest feeling. For a brief moment, he actually forgot that he wasn't actually a little baby mouse. All the evidence around him sure seemed to suggest that, after all. But even after he shook his head and (mostly) cleared it, he wasn't any closer to being able to explain himself to the big malamutes whose care he'd suddenly found himself in.

Jeremy made another attempt at just that, or at least to try and say something coherent, but he didn't have any more success now than he had the last time he tried. He actually seemed to have less control over his lips and tongue than he did before, if that was possible. Ryan just snickered at the mouse's adorable but unintelligible babbling while he carried him through the house. The big dog gently tickled his belly while he mused, "My little brother moved from his old nursery into a big boy room a while ago, but we still have all of his old stuff. It should be perfect for you, little Squeaker."

Before the big dog pushed open the door to his little brother's former room, Jeremy noticed that the door was decorated with a sticker depicting a black and white puppy dog, curled up on what appeared to be a cloud, sleeping on his belly with his knees drawn up underneath him and his backside in the air. One of his paws was clinging to a blanket, while the other was pressed up to his muzzle so he could nurse on his thumb while he slept. His butt was wrapped in what was unmistakeably a thick diaper. Written underneath this image were the words, "Shhhh! Baby is sleeping."

Once Ryan had carried him inside the room and flipped on the light switch, Jeremy realized what an accurate omen that picture had been. Since the malamute had mentioned his little brother was old enough to move into his new, 'big boy' room, the mouse had expected a toddler's room, something that suggested its occupant was nearly transitioning into the more autonomous and independent stages of childhood. But that was not at all the case, as it turned out. Just by looking around, one would never think that whoever this room belonged to could be any older than nine months, or perhaps a year, tops. The dominant feature of the room was the large, wooden crib. And it was definitely large, as the bars were taller than Jeremy would have been when he was standing up. The room also had a similarly huge and solidly-built changing table, as well as a rocking chair, but the majority of the floorspace was kept open and covered with a cushy foam play-mat.

Whoever had decorated the room had clearly gone to great lengths to make sure everything looked perfect, and it was well-maintained to boot. The walls were painted with a color somewhere between baby and sky blue, with white accents near the ceiling and green ones near the floor, so being in the room felt vaguely like being out in an open field, with clouds up above and grass below. There were big windows that let in plenty of sun, but thick blinds were in place to cover them if somebody needed to nap while it was still light out. All of the furniture was decorated with images of white, fluffy clouds or other similar sorts of sky-oriented themes. That was the print on the padded guards that covered the wooden bars of the crib, for example, and a dark blue blanket patterned with stars was folded up on the rocking chair. Despite the fact that it wasn't in use currently (everything was far too neatly put away and kept in order for an actual cub to be using this room), the faint, lingering scents of a nursery hung in the air: talcum powder, baby wipes, and a diaper pail - which is an aroma that will never quite go away, no matter how much you clean it.

The panorama of the intricately detailed nursery, with its furniture that dwarfed the small mouse, coupled with the scents wafting through the air, added to the sensations he was already feeling from being coddled, carried, pinched, patted, and baby-talked to, was nearly overwhelming for Jeremy, all taken together. Neurons were firing like wild inside his brain, making him shiver as weirdly intense, almost primordial sensations washed over him, over and over again. His mind flashed with images of his own little body in that crib, on his knees, clinging to the bars, clad in nothing but a droopy diaper, crying to be taken out and changed. He saw himself on the floor, clumsily stacking letter blocks and squealing with glee as they tumbled to the ground. he saw himself curled up in the arms of a larger fur, swaddled in the night sky-printed blanket, and dozing in the rocking chair.

When he realized he was being seated on the plastic surface of the changing table, he wasn't sure at first if it was really happening or if it was another one of those little images flashing in his head. Ryan was standing over him, and while Jeremy's mind had been jumping to those serene, calming images, the huge malamute had apparently taken his tight-fitting shirt off, probably since the mouse had gotten it wet while being carried. The malamute seemed even bigger with his muscular chest bare, somehow. Ryan reached down and pushed the rubber bulb of a pacifier between the mouse's lips and tapped his nose with a big, heavy fingertip before the malamute said in his big, booming, woofy voice, "There we go, that should help you relax while I clean you up. You ready, little Squeaker? Okay, paws up!" Jeremy didn't have much choice but to raise his arms as the malamute slid his big paws underneath the mouse's t-shirt and tugged it up, pulling it off in one quick motion. Once it was off, Jeremy let out a muffled grunt as he got used to the feeling of the large pacifier in his maw and the colorful plastic shield pressed against the end of his muzzle. He wasn't entirely sure why he was doing it, but he started suckling on the soother's rubber bulb, and he definitely did find it relaxing.

Once the shirtless mouse was nursing calmly on his soother, Ryan placed a big paw on Jeremy's shoulder and gently guided him down onto his back. The big malamute smiled warmly at the little mouse and cooed down at him, trying to keep him feeling safe and reassured, "There's a good little Squeaker." The canine rubbed a massive palm on the mouse's tummy, and then dropped his paws down to Jeremy's legs, where he undid the laces on the mouse's sneakers and slid them off his feet. His pants were the next to go, as Ryan demonstrated a fair amount of manual dexterity in getting the fly undone, considering how large his fingers were relative to the smallness of the button and the zipper on a pair of mouse-sized pants. The jeans were tugged off the mouse's legs in one swift motion, leaving him laying on his back on an oversize changing table and nursing on a pacifier while wearing nothing but a damp, formerly white pair of briefs which were now tinged a dull yellow from crotch to seat.

Those didn't stay on for very long, either. Ryan chuckled to himself for a moment, wondering why a cub who was clearly so young as he imagined Jeremy to be would have been wearing plain, white 'big boy' underwear, but the thought didn't linger, as he was more concerned with getting the mouse into something more appropriate. When each item of his adult clothing had been tugged off of him, Jeremy had been left feeling a bit smaller each time. Even though the room and the furniture and even Ryan were already massive compared to him, when his shirt or his pants or his shoes and socks slipped off of him, everything seemed to expand just a little bit more. It was all very disorienting, and when Jeremy felt the malamute's fingers hook into the waistband of his undies and tug them off, leaving him almost completely bare, with only the tip of his muzzle covered by the plastic shield of the pacifier he was suckling on, he was left feeling almost impossibly tiny.

Despite the sensation of being all muddled by how little and helpless he felt, Jeremy was still very calm. This was encouraging to Ryan, who was just glad that his little charge wasn't getting anxious about having somebody take care of him like this. He kept one paw on Jeremy's tummy, rubbing him reassuringly, while his other hand was digging in the drawers under the table for some supplies. "Mom was right, I think. You are a chubby little guy, aren't you? Don't worry, Squeaker, you'll grow into that babyfat." While his adult self was certainly not at the forefront of his mind at the moment, he was still aware enough to be embarrassed by that comment because, of course, if he was going to grow into the soft layer of babyfat he was sporting, he would have done it a long time ago. He squirmed a bit and mumbled into his soother, which only prompted more bellyrubs from the malamute.

Ryan came up from the drawer with a babywipe and then used his free paw to take hold of Jeremy's ankles. His fingers were long enough to wrap around both ankles without too much trouble, and he was then able to gently lift the mouse's legs until his backside was off the surface of the changing table, his weight resting back on his shoulders. The malamute hummed softly to himself as he took to giving the mouse's pudgy bottom a thorough cleaning with the babywipe, though it didn't need too much attention, since he had only been wet, this time. It was clear that Ryan was a practiced hand at this sort of thing. He must have been through the process many times with his baby brother. Once satisfied that the fur on the mouse's backside was reasonably clean, Ryan lowered Jeremy's legs and turned his attention to the mouse's front. He worked with the same clinical efficiency, like he had done this so many times he could have carried on in his sleep and - he expected - it wasn't at all an unusual experience for the mouse, either. Of course, he was mistaken there, because having anyone else, particularly a much larger male, give this kind of attention to his crotch and backside was more than just a little unusual for Jeremy.

The mouse raised his head and looked down, past his bare, chubby tummy, and watched Ryan work on wiping any lingering evidence of his accident out of his fur. He let out a muffled whine into his pacifier when he realized that his mousiehood was smaller than the malamute's pinkie finger, and even if he had gotten excited - though it was hard to imagine anything like that under the present circumstances - it still would not have been a favorable comparison on his end. The realization made the mouse fidget and squirm, wriggling on his back as he grunted into his soother, but Ryan simply took it as a little cubby fussing at being cleaned up. He gently tickled the tip of the mouse's little wee-wee and winked down at him, "Don't worry, little Squeaker. It'll get bigger, just wait until you grow up," he mused before chuckling to himself. Jeremy blushed furiously.

Having finished taking care of cleaning the mouse's fur, Ryan's next task became to replace the mouse's pants (which were in need of a run through the wash before they could be worn again). Although the best option of what to use instead was blatantly obvious to the malamute, Jeremy was still a little bit shocked on some level when the dog pulled a paw up from one of the drawers underneath the table again, this time with a neatly folded rectangle of crinkly white plastic, which Jeremy immediately recognized as a disposable diaper, ready to be taped snugly around his hips. Really, it should have been the least surprising thing in the world for the dog to have in his paw, all of a sudden. Jeremy should have been surprised that it took so long for that first diaper to appear. But even though he was nearly drowning in a big pool of overwhelming cubbyish feelings which had stunted his ability to talk, move, and sometimes even think like an adult, the thought of the big malamute - who clearly was under the mistaken impression that he was a helpless little baby - putting him in a diaper had not even crossed his mind.

There was nothing Jeremy could do except watch as Ryan deftly unfolded the disposable diaper, flipping it out into an hourglass shape. The mouse was too stunned to do anything until the malamute took hold of his ankles again and lifted him off the changing table so Ryan could slide the diaper under the mouse's rear end. Jeremy wiggled his pudgy bottom and whined into his soother, as his backside hovered in the air over the waiting seat of the puffy diaper. The malamute misinterpreted the mouse's fussing and shushed him gently, cooing, "Don't worry, little Squeaker. We'll have you all nice and padded up in no time." Once the diaper was in position beneath the mouse, Ryan retrieved a bottle of cubby powder from underneath the changing table, and proceed to apply a liberal dusting of white, sweet-smelling talcum to Jeremy's rear.

The smell of baby powder was not a scent that Jeremy was used to smelling. Since he had no use for the stuff in his day-to-day life and had not really done any childcare on his own, or even been around any other furs who had children, the only mental associations he had with cloying aroma went all the way back to the days when he himself was wearing diapers. Of course, as soon as his nostrils detected that familiar smell, that was right where his mind went, though it didn't have terribly far to go at this point. He immediately stopped fussing and flashed back to images of his own nursery, which he didn't even know he could still recall. For a moment, he felt like he was laying back on his own changing table from his infancy, back in the house he grew up in. He immediately calmed down and let out a quiescent gurgle.

Since he was used to taking advantage of brief lapses in a cub's fussiness whenever they happened to occur, Ryan went to work the moment that the scent of cubby powder caused him to settle. With quick, deft movements that belied the size of his paws and the thickness of his fingers, the mouse's backside was carefully lowered onto the center of the diaperseat. His legs were spread and there was another thorough application of powder, this time covering his front. Ryan replaced the bottle of talcum powder to its drawer and then gently folded the front of the diaper back over the mouse's crotch before he took each tape from its place on the back panel and secured it across the front. Finally, the malamute flipped the mouse onto his belly and placed the last tape over the base of the mouse's tail, expertly getting him fastened into the diaper. It was, all in all, an efficient and practiced diaper change, gentle and reassuring. Just being put in a diaper at all had a further infantilizing effect on the mouse's state of mind, but being put in one by someone who was so good at it was something else altogether. As Jeremy lay on his belly, sucking on a pacifer and feeling the swell of his fresh diaper in between his thighs, he wasn't very confident that his muscles were responsive enough even to allow him to roll onto his back under his own power, at the moment.

While Jeremy was laying there on his belly, getting used to the sensation of having an inch or so of padding taped around his crotch and rear, Ryan slid his big paws underneath his arms and lifted him up off the table. The big malamute held the mouse against his chest, with just one huge paw supporting him underneath his diapered rear. "That's better, little Squeaker, don't you think? Now let's get a shirt on you, so we can hide that chubby belly." It was surprising how much deeper and more resonant Ryan's voice sounded when Jeremy was pressed up against his chest, so he could feel the vibrations running through his little (relatively speaking) body. The mouse shivered while he was carried over to a chest of draws, which Ryan opened and dug through with his one free paw. Jeremy wasn't even sure how the canine managed to retrieve a t-shirt, unfold it, and slide it on over his head with just one paw free, but the malamute must have had a lot of experience dressing cubs like this. Before he knew it, Jeremy had a black shirt tugged on over his head which didn't quite come down the waistband of his diaper, leaving a strip of fur on his chubby tummy exposed. As if that weren't embarrassing enough, as the mouse glanced down at the shirt, he saw that it had the phrase "Ain't I a stinker?" written across the chest, with the text underlined by a cartoon skunk's tail.

The mouse raised a paw to his chest and ran his fingers over the black-and-white text. He furrowed his brow and squeezed his little paw into a fist. It could have been his imagination - it was certainly his imagination, wasn't it? - but his fingers looked and even felt like they were shorter, stubbier, too. They did seem more awkward and fumbling as he squeezed a fistful of fabric from his shirt in between his fingers and tugged at it a bit, experimentally. Jeremy raised his head when he heard the malamute chuckling over him and looked up at the big, grinning canine. Ryan had misinterpreted the mouse's fiddling with his shirt, and he cooed softly while he patted the mouse's head with a big palm, "Aww, you liked being just a diapercub, huh? Sorry, you've got to keep the shirt on. But I guess we can leave you without pants for now, Squeaker." The malamute gently held the much smaller mouse against him, one hand under his diapered bottom and the other on the back of his head, keeping him pressed snugly against the big canine's huge, bare chest. Jeremy's whole body seemed to go limp as he heard and felt the malamute's heartbeat gently thumping through him.

It was in that position that Ryan held Jeremy while he carried him out of the nursery and back out into the living room. He was greeted by his mother, who stifled a gasp when she saw the barely-dressed, obviously-diapered mouse cradled against her son's chest. "Aww," she sighed softly, speaking in a quiet, honey-sweet voice, not wanting to disturb the little mouseling. "Isn't he adorable? He looks like he's just the sweetest little thing. Was he fussy at all?"

Ryan shook his head at the question and very delicately bounced the diapered mouse in his arms, smiling down at the cub. "Not even a little bit, Mom. In fact, he seemed to relax quite a bit when I got him out of those pants and put him in some nice diapies. Isn't that right, Squeaker?" To emphasize the point, Ryan squeezed the mouse's padded rear gently, prompting Jeremy to emit a little squeak that was mostly muffled by the pacifier in his muzzle. Ryan continued talk to his mom as if Jeremy hadn't made any noise, "Did you talk to anybody on the phone who knows where this little guy came from?"

The matronly malamute's expression darkened just a shade, and she frowned. "No, I'm afraid not - nobody seems to know anything about him. I think I might just take a walk around the neighborhood and ask people if they know where his family is staying." She leaned over just a bit and raised a paw to rub the mouse on his back. When she spoke directly to him, her voice became more syrupy, her consonants more rounded "Don't worry, widdle baby. We'll take very good care of you in the meantime, okay?" Then she leaned in closer and rubbed her nose against his, smiling brightly as she cooed, "Who's a happy baby? You are!" Under the adult canine's attentions, Jeremy couldn't stop himself from letting out a small giggling noise and smiling behind his pacifier.

Ryan noticed how his mother's face lit up when she was doting over the small, diaper-clad mouse. He had noticed her looking a little sad when they were taking his little brother's things out of the nursery and moving them into his new 'big boy' room. While he hadn't been able to figure out what had been bothering her at the time, it did seem to make some sense now. It also explained why she had been so reluctant to give away any of the furniture in the nursery, or to at least put it in storage. He had an idea. "Hey, Mom... I was just about to go pick up Kyle at his friend's house, anyway. Why don't I check around to see if anyone knows anything, and you watch Mister Squeakypants for a while?" Ryan adjusted the mouse's position in his arms and slipped his paws underneath Jeremy's armpits, holding him out so his mother could take the 'little cub.'

Jeremy dangled there for a moment, legs bowed apart by the thickness of the diaper in between his legs, while Ryan's mother put on a purely-for-show act of polite refusal. "Oh, Ryan... that's very sweet of you, but you don't need to do that." She paused for just a moment, but she continued before her son actually had a chance to say in anything in response, for fear that he might take her demurral seriously. "On the other hand, you do know the neighbors better than I do, these days, and if you were going to go pick up your little brother, anyway..." She smiled broadly and quickly plucked the little mousie from Ryan's paws, cradling him in the crook of one arm and rubbing his belly with her other paw. "I'll take care of him for a while."

As he watched his mother tickle the mouse's bare tummy with her fingertips and nose against his forehead, which just prompted him to emit a squealing giggle, Ryan nodded knowingly, "Thanks for watching him, Mom. I'll go see if I can find out where he belongs. Don't worry, I won't be gone too long. I don't want to put you out anymore than I have to." With that, the big canine went off to his room to grab a new shirt before heading out the door.

Throughout all of this, Jeremy was just in a fog. Although he could hear Ryan and his mother talking about him, it was getting harder and harder to understand their words. It was like his ears were packed with cotton, and it was only getting worse they more they talked over him, as if he was just a topic of conversation and not a participant. He found himself zoning out, until one of them adopted the melodic tone and rounded voice that indicated they were talking to him again. At first, he wondered why they kept talking about trying to find out where he belonged, and who was supposed to be taking care of him. That didn't make any sense! Of course, he wasn't quite in the right state at the moment, but normally, he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But after being carried and jostled and petted and hearing those same words over and over, Jeremy began to find himself growing irrationally anxious. What if they couldn't find where he was supposed to be? What would happen to him? Would he be able to stay with Ryan and his family? Would he live in their nursery?

That prospect was starting to seem not all that terrible to Jeremy, for some reason. His normal life seemed very remote, and any thoughts of his grown-up bedroom or his house-mates or anything related to his regular existence kept resisting his attempts to think about them. So that was why he did nothing but giggle and suck on his pacifier while Ryan's mom held him with one big paw underneath his diapered butt, leaning him back against her soft, pillowy chest, and she used her free paw to raise one of his little hands and wave to Ryan as he walked out the door, smiling and waving back. "Wave bye-bye to Ry-ry, sweetie! Don't worry, sweetie-kins, he'll be back real soon, so don't be sad. We're going to have lots of fun in the meantime," she cooed into his ear, giving his head a gentle, doting kiss.

As soon as Ryan was gone, his Mommy spun Jeremy around and tossed him into the air. It was a very careful, practiced motion, in which he was never for a moment in any danger, but it gave the mouse a momentary sensation of weightlessness before he found himself once again wrapped up snugly in a set of strong malamute arms. It made him feel so small and light, and then very safe and secure. Then she lifted him again, paws under his armpits, and nudged the bottom of his shirt up a bit with her nose, kissing his belly. When she took a deep breath, pursed her lips and blew a zerbert on his tummy, he burst out in a fit of squeals and giggles, squirming and flailing his limbs. Mommy was delighted. She carried Jeremy over to the couch and set him down on her knee, gently bouncing him there as she cooed down at him.

"Who's a widdle cutie-patootie? Who's the most adorable little mousie-baby there ever was?" She bounced him again, eliciting another giggling squeal from the mouse. The pressure of Mommy's knee underneath his behind compressed the thick padding of his diaper against his seat, reinforcing to him just what he was wearing. She reached down and plucked up one of his feetpaws, lifting it up while she leaned over and began to delicately nibble on his toes, "Who has the nummiest little toesies?" She leaned forward further and licked the mouse's pink nosepad, just over the plastic shield of his pacifier, "And who has the tastiest nosie?" She moved the mouseboy onto his back, laying down on her legs, before she slid both of her paws to his tummy and brushed her fingertips through his fur. "Who has the tickliest chubby tummy?" Then she took hold of his ankles and carefully lifted his legs, bending him almost in half, so she could plant an adoring kiss right on the seat of his diaper. "And who has the sweetest baby bummy?" With one more swift motion, her paws were under the mouse's arms again, and he was being held in the air over Mommy's head, as she smiled up at him and kissed him right on his pacifier guard. "You do, little Squeaker!"

It probably goes without saying at this point, but Ryan's Mommy had a completely different style of cubby-care than her son did. Ryan was an efficient and gentle caretaker, and his sheer size and confidence made it clear that he would keep any cub in his charge happy and safe. He clearly had experience from looking after his little brother, but Ryan's Mommy had been doing it for so much longer, and as a result her movements when carrying a cub in her arms weren't just practiced, they were effortless, as if they were just second nature to her now, as if it was almost easier for her to do most things while balancing a bundled-up cub in one arm. Even in his current state, Jeremy could see the look of fulfillment on her face and the twinkle in her eye as he dangled in the air over her. And in spite of himself, Jeremy started to feel himself returning some of those feelings. Ryan's Mommy certainly knew how much she loved taking care of little cubs, but Jeremy had no idea - before this moment, anyway - that he could enjoy these feelings so much.

Of course, he didn't realize what was going on at the time. He was too caught up in the primacy of these sensations, and even though a part of him was still feeling embarrassed at the predicament he was in, that part of him was receding into the background, and he was just relishing the feeling of being so small and so cared for. He would gradually come to understand, on an intellectual level, what it meant, but in the meantime, he wasn't capable of taking the step back to analyze his situation. All he could do was giggle and gurgle and suck on his pacifier.

"Are you a walker, sweetie?" Mommy cooed as she sat up and gently lowered the mouse to the ground in front of the couch, holding lightly onto his paws so he could balance - just barely! - on his feetpaws. "I bet you can do it! Can you walk for me, sweetie? Come on, sweetie-pie!" Jeremy looked down at his feet curiously, wobbling as he stood there. Whenever he felt his weight shifting, he tried to balance himself out, but he was having trouble. He'd either lean too far or lean the wrong way. Mommy's gentle but firm grip on his paws kept him from toppling over a few times. His leg muscles felt like they were made of soft rubber, and they didn't seem to be hooked up to his brain the way he remembered. He tried to lift his right foot, but it was his left one that picked itself up off the carpet - at least, he thought it was - and he stuck it out in front of him for a moment, but rather than leaning forward the way one normally does when trying to take a step forward, his weight stayed balanced just the way it had been, and his foot just moved right back where it had been before he picked it up in the first place. After another moment of wobbling while Jeremy worked to get his bearings and ready himself for another try, his knees just buckled underneath him and he gently plopped back onto the floor, landing on his diapered butt with a soft *whump* sound.

Mommy just awwed and smiled down at the mouseboy, sitting on the floor between her feet and looking back up at her with a silly, confused expression on his face. She reached down and tickled his tummy again, while she soothed any frustration he might be feeling. "That's okay, baby-kins. You'll figure it out. It just takes time!" Her paws were under his arms again and she was lifting him up and standing at the same time, so he felt himself whooshing up from the floor until he was dangling high in the air. It made him woozy, so he leaned in against the malamute mommy's chest, while she patted him gently. "Until you learn, you can just have somebody carry you. I bet you like that better anyway, don't you widdle Squeaker?" And just like that, she was carrying him off to the kitchen, while she cooed, "Is somebody a hungry tummy? I bet you are!"

Before he knew it, Jeremy found himself in the kitchen, being settled into a big white high chair. A three part strap was snapped in place over his front, two parts of the belt coming across his waist, while the other was pulled up in between his legs, to securely hold him in his seat on the chair. It was quite a long way down, after all. After that, a plastic tray was lowered over his head and snapped into the slots designed to hold it in front of him. He was immediately struck by how big the expanse of the plastic table seemed in front of him, and how the cushioned back of his seat came up almost to the tips of his ears. Just like everything else in this house - including its inhabitants - it seemed to have been built just to make him feel small. And it was certainly effective, at that. The big plastic and cloth bib with prints of frolicking puppies that the malamute mommy was tying around his neck didn't hurt, either, since it cover his entire chest with ease.

Jeremy felt the pacifier being tugged from between his lips. He had been absent-mindedly nursing on it for so long now that he had almost forgotten it was even there. Not having it there shook him out of his stupor just a little bit, and it made him want to try to speak again, to alert Ryan's mom about what was really going on. He wasn't sure what had kept him from trying to do something like that for so long, but it's just as well he hadn't. This attempt was adorably ineffective, as Jeremy fumbled with his lips and tongue as if he'd never used them before, once again spouting out vowel sounds and consonants in a random assortment that no one would be tempted to call 'speech.' And to top it all off, he realized he was drooling down his chin.

That moment of heightened self-awareness didn't last, though. While he was struggling to remember what his mouth was supposed to do when he made a 'b' sound, Mommy pressed the nipple of a baby bottle into his muzzle, quieting his babbling. Apparently, in the short time he'd gotten used to having the pacifier in his muzzle, Jeremy had gotten used to suckling, so his immediate reaction to the rubber teat of the bottle in between his lips was to start nursing. As soon as he was rewarded with the first few drops of milk on his tongue, he stopped squirming and fussing and instead settled right back into being a baby again. His eyes went half-lidded as he sat in the high chair and nursed from the bottle that Mommy was holding for him.

"That's a gooooood baby," she cooed, drawing out the sound as she pursed her lips at the nursing mouse. "You sure were a hungry widdle squeaker, weren't you, sweetie-pie? I bet that's why you were so squeaky, huh? You wanted your ba-ba. Well, don't worry, here it is, all for you. Nummy, nummy, nummy!" Jeremy let out a soft giggle in between swallows while the big malamute fussed over him, tickled his chin, and beeped his nose while she fed him. About halfway through the bottle, she popped the nipple from his lips and sat it down on the tray in front of him. He blinked up at her as she used his bib to wipe some milky drool from his chin, and then stood up to walk over to the fridge for a moment. She returned with five jars of babyfood, which she spread out in front Jeremy on the high chair's tray. "I'm glad I hadn't gotten rid of these, yet," she mused as she opened the lids on each of the jars. "They're all for you, sweetie."

With a flourish, Mommy produced a soft plastic spoon and began to feed Jeremy the assortment of thoroughly mashed peas and carrots and other varieties of baby food. The bland taste wasn't particularly exciting, but Jeremy swallowed down what managed to find its way into his muzzle all the same. Mommy grinned at how eager he seemed, "Oh, what a good baby! I was worried you wouldn't like it... I can see you've got your teeth, so your mommy has probably got you on solid food by now. But sometimes it's probably nice to just be a reawwy widdle baby again, huh baby boo?" She giggled as she pushed another spoonful of pablum into the mouse's muzzle.

It seemed that the problems that Jeremy had with speaking carried over to eating, because working his lips and tongue to swallow the food he was being fed turned out to be almost as difficult as forming a coherent sentence. His state of mind wasn't being helped by the way that Mommy was pulling all of the old tricks to feed a fussy cub, despite the fact that he wasn't being any trouble whatsoever. The spoon at turns became an airplane heading for the runway, a train on its way into a tunnel, or a rocketship landing on the moon. Each transformation was accompanied by the appropriate sound effects, and the performances made Jeremy squeal delightedly. He burbled and cooed while he was being fed, but when he tried to swallow, his troubles with making his mouth behave as it was supposed to caused him to accidentally spit out a fair portion of the food that was in his mouth, as often as not. By the time that Mommy had finished with the jars of babyfood, the mouse's muzzle and bib were covered with multicolored smears and blotches, leaving him looking rather like a modern art piece. Mommy sat back for a moment and admired how cute the mouse looked like this, while she praised him for being a good boy and eating up all that food. In truth, a fair bit of it had ended up on him rather than in him, but it was still a sizeable meal.

Despite the fact that his belly was starting to feel full, Jeremy didn't protest when Mommy popped the nipple of the bottle back into his muzzle, after wiping off his cheeks and chin with a clean section of his bib. He just resumed nursing, and he found that the regular rhythm of suckling and swallowing was somehow soothing, and that drinking from a bottle was much easier than trying to swallow the baby food. He was so comfortable, sitting in the high chair and being fed this way, that he didn't even notice when he had actually finished his milk and continued to swallow, spending a few seconds gulping down nothing but air. He didn't actually realize he had finished his bottle until Mommy tugged it away from his muzzle and set the empty thing down on the counter behind her. The big malamute matron then carefully removed the plastic tray from the high chair and then undid the straps from around the mouse's waist, before she slid her paws under his arms and lifted him up. Jeremy quickly found himself with his chin resting on Mommy's shoulder, where a washcloth was laying.

Jeremy found one big paw resting under his bottom, easily supporting his weight, while the other covered most of the upper part of his back, just below his shoulders. He let out a sigh and relaxed against the big malamute's chest, while she leaned down and licked at his ear before she started gently cooing. "There's a good widdle baby. Did you have a good lunch? I hope that was enough for my chubby little squeaker. Can you burp for me, sweetie? I bet you can!" She began to pat his back with a gentle but firm hand, and was quickly rewarded as a bubble of air escaped from his muzzle with an adorable little *urp!* sound. He hadn't even noticed the pressure in his belly beforehand, but now that it was gone, he felt even more comfortable and at ease than he had before. He shut his eyes and nestled in as close as he could to Mommy's shoulder.

The mouse found his muzzle filled with the nipple of his pacifier once more, and he began to nurse on it without a second thought. He was so fully relaxed, his mind in such a peaceful and quiescent state that his body seemed to be operating largely without his input - his lips suckled on the pacifier in his muzzle without needing to be told to, his paws clenched gently to hold onto little fistfuls of Mommy's shirt, and the pressure of his fairly full tummy on his bladder caused it to relax, and as a result he started soaking his padding. He could feel the sensation of the warm wetness covering his crotch, soaking into his fur and the soft padding of his diaper, but it was in no way distressing or troubling. If he had been in a clearer state of mind, the loss of control would have left him utterly embarrassed, as it had when he wet his pants on the sidewalk. But his actual accident didn't even register with him. He could only identify the pleasant feeling of warmth spreading around his crotch and slowly creeping up over his bottom.

He didn't realize what had happened until Mommy's paw squeezed his now-squishy rear and she cooed into his ear, "I think somebody's a little piddle pants." Her tone was purely observational, and it didn't make him feel upset about his situation at all. She started walking out of the kitchen, though Jeremy didn't pay any attention to where he was being carried, since he was entirely focused on the warm feelings of security that being snuggled up to a malamute mommy's chest engendered in a small mouse. It was only when his nose began to twitch and he detected the aroma of the nursery once again that he realized where in the house he'd been taken.

"I think you could use a widdle bit of time to rest before changies, cutie-pie," Mommy said as she settled down into the room's rocking chair, which fit her perfectly. The mouse found himself sliding off the malamute's shoulder and cradled in the crook of her arm, while her free paw rubbed his belly. "I hope you had enough nummies." The chair started to gently rock back and forth, and the subtle motion was surprisingly soothing. Jeremy opened his eyes for a moment and found himself looking up at the serene smile of his canine mommy in the dimly-lit room. He could feel her warmth all around him, and even hear the soft, regular thumping of her heartbeat. He found himself nuzzling in against her chest, trying to get closer to that reassuring sound.

While that was all he was trying to do, the malamute in the rocking chair saw his actions somewhat differently. She saw a little baby mouse, who maybe didn't get enough to eat for lunch, nosing and pawing at her breast. She gasped at the feeling of his attention, but she didn't hesitate in her decision for long. She swiftly unbuttoned her blouse, pulled her shirt aside, and slid the cup of her bra down. Then she tugged the mouse's pacifier from between his lips and gently brushed his cheek with her nipple, before her teat found its place in between the mouse's lips. It certainly wasn't what Jeremy was expecting, but by this point the little mouse was acting largely on instinct, and so of course he began to suckle as soon as the nipple filled his muzzle, just like he had with the baby bottle. He soon found his tongue covered with rich, creamy mommy's milk, and the taste of it was very familiar, somehow. The experience of being fed this way, cradled in Mommy's arms, his muzzle pressed to her bosom, it was all enough to make neurons start firing in the mouse's brain that had been dormant for years.

The whole experience was something of a blur from this point on for the little mouse. His mind wasn't reacting to stimuli the way he was used to. While he nursed he could hear Mommy talking to him, but he couldn't quite distinguish the words she was saying from the sounds she was making. It was all indistinct, but somehow no less soothing as a result. He nursed eagerly, despite all the babyfood he had just been fed. His tummy felt more and more full as time passed, but the feeling of being fed this way was so wonderful that he was reluctant to stop. He felt himself switched from one breast to the other at one point, and he just resumed nursing as if he had never paused. A thin trickle of milky drool ran down his chin while he worked his muzzle and gently kneaded Mommy's breasts with his little paws, helping her milk to flow. By the time she was empty, he felt woozy with how full he was, and his tummy seemed like it was ready to pop. She pulled his drooly muzzle off her nipple and tugged her shirt back into place. The little mouse just gurgled up at her as she rubbed his belly and cooed down at him with words he couldn't quite understand.

The sloshing feeling in Jeremy's tummy lurched as he found himself laid over Mommy's shoulder again, one of her paws underneath his bottom and the other on his back once more. The mouse found himself staring at the wall behind the rocking chair, only to find a full-length mirror there, so he found himself face-to-face with some small babymouse who had just been fed and was also resting on his mommy's shoulder. He reached a paw out towards the other mouse, who did the same thing. This made Jeremy giggle, and he let out a hiccup that was accompanied by a little mouthful of spit-up, which dribbled down his chin as he watched his reflection in the mirror. Mommy just cooed something reassuring into his ear before she kissed his head and patted his back. After that small bubble of pressure in the mouse's tummy was taken care of, there was another gurgling sensation, lower down in his abdomen. At this point, the mouse's simplest, most natural instincts kicked in. He shut his eyes and tensed up, quivering just a bit against Mommy's shoulder as the base of his tail lifted up and let out a soft grunting noise. Mommy licked the fur in between his ears and murmured soft words of encouragement to the baby-mouse in her arms. It didn't take long before the mouse's diaperseat bulged and started to droop with a sizeable, heavy lump under his tail.

The relief from messing himself sent shudders of gratification through the mouse's whole body, leaving him grinning blissfully as he went limp against mommy's shoulder, overwhelmed with every pleasure a little baby can enjoy: cuddled in Mommy's arms with a full belly and a full diaper. After a deep, full-body sigh, the mouse opened his eyes again to see the serene face of the other mousie staring back at him. But there was something else in the mirror, now. Over the mouse's shoulder, he saw Ryan standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe and smiling. His sudden appearance seemed to yank the mousie-cub out of the depths of his infantile state somewhat, so at the very least he realized he should be embarrassed to be found with an obvious load in his diaper. And if the brown stain showing through the mouse's seat and the accompanying bulge weren't enough to tip Ryan off, the scent in the room would surely alert anyone to the fact that he was a stinkermouse.

His embarrassment only increased as the mommy malamute stood up and let his weight slide down onto her palm, which mushed his still-warm mess back up against his rear. She didn't pay any mind to his fidgeting, though, and just carried him over towards the changing table. She turned to her son with a smile and said, "Any luck trying to find out where our little stinky squeaker belongs?" giving his loaded diaper a squishy pat before she laid him on his back on the changing table. Ryan shook his head at her question, but he did reach in and give the mouse's diaper a confirmatory squeeze before he answered her.

"Nope, nobody's got any idea where this little guy might have come from! I guess our next step should be to notify the police. Poor little squeaker." While Ryan stood beside the changing table and rubbed the mouse's head in between his ears, his mom was going to work on Jeremy's diaper. She ripped the tapes on the sides and pulled the sodden crotch of the diaper down, making an exaggerated show of wrinkling her nose and waving a paw in front of her muzzle while she used her other hand to tickle the mouse's tummy. Ryan just stood to the side and grinned.

"Pee yoo!" the mommy malamute announced, "You sure made a big messy-mess, didn't you squeaker? You were such a good baby!" Mere minutes ago, these words would have sent Jeremy into a fit of giggles, but at the moment, he was sufficiently self-aware to realize just how humiliating his predicament had become, but unfortunately not self-aware enough to do anything about it. All he could do is glance from one oversized malamute to the other with wide eyes as he squirmed there on the changing table, feeling utterly exposed and embarrassed. The odor coming up from his open diaper left no doubt what he had done to them, and while it wasn't an unusual smell for Ryan or his mother, it wasn't something that Jeremy had experienced in a very long while, especially not when he was the source. He whined and fidgeted some, tugging on the shirt he was wearing that said "Ain't I a Stinker?" across the chest. At the moment, he certainly was.

A big mommy malamute paw wrapped around Jeremy's ankles and lifted his lower half up in the air. Her other paw plucked a baby wipe from the nearby tub and began to deftly to clean the mess from the mouse's rear end. He just squeaked and squirmed while an experienced hand worked to clean the sticky, stinky mess out of the fur on each of his bottomcheeks, from in between them, and from where it had squished up between his legs. It took a few wipes to do the whole job, so after praising the mouse for being such a good baby boy while he was getting all cleaned up, Ryan's mother turned to him and resumed discussing what they were to do with their little foundling mouse.

"Well, he just had a really big meal, so I thought we could set up the playpen in the living room for a while and lay him down there, in case he wanted to take a little nap. That would give us time to get his wet clothes washed." At that moment, Jeremy let out an embarrassed, high-pitched squeak as the mommy malamute slid a wipe-covered finger in between his cheeks and wiggled it right up under his tail. His eyes went wide and he flushed bright red, which just prompted a few chuckles from the pair of canines looking down at him.

Ryan walked over towards the head of the changing table and reached a huge paw over to gently rub the mouse's ears, cooing reassuringly to him, "Don't worry, little Squeaker. It's going to be okay, it's all going to - uh-oh!" Ryan was interrupted all of a sudden when the little mouse did what every baby boy does every once in a while: have an accident in the middle of a diaper change. Thanks to the way that the mommy malamute was holding up his legs, the mouse's piddle formed a perfect arc, going straight from the tip of his weewee to the tip of his nose, splashing over his face and muzzle, and as he began to squirm and wiggle, even soaking his shoulders, ears, and chest. Ryan had managed to pull his paw away in time to keep it from getting wet, but he wasn't quite able to stop himself from breaking out in a snickering fit at the look on the little mouse's face, shocked and dripping. The laughter turned out to be infectious, as Ryan's mother also let out a poorly-stifled chuckle.

It was all a bit too much for Jeremy to handle. The embarrassment of having already had an accident in his pants, which he was helpless to clean up in the first place, only to have another one while the motherly canine was cleaning up his first 'oopsie' was enough to overwhelm his poor, fragile sensibilities. When he tried to muster all of his adult courage and reserves to try to deal with the intense emotional experience he was going through, he found those pieces of his psyche were no longer accessible to him. So he did what any cub in his situation would do. He broke down and began to cry. His eyes grew wet and shiny as he pinched his muzzle together and his lower lip quivered while his desperation was building inside him. He clenched his paws into tiny little fists, and then he finally burst into tears.

This outburst bore no resemblance to an adult-style crying fit, either. Oh no, this was a full-bore venting of infantile frustration and helplessness, filled with wordless, forgetting-to-breathe, bawling wails and the weak, aimless flailing of limbs that comes with undeveloped fine motor skills. If Jeremy had hoped to prove to anyone that he was really an adult, this was probably the absolute worst thing he could have done to support his point. But fortunately, while a tantrum like this would have been an enormous cause for concern if it had come from a grown-up, it was nothing unusual for a cub to do, so neither Ryan nor his mother responded too strongly. Ryan's mother just turned to her son and said, matter-of-factly, "He must be tired."

The rest of the diaper change went quickly, as Jeremy wasn't able to pay much attention to it, but he was quickly wiped clean, had his shirt pulled off over his head, had his wet face wiped down with a fluffy towel, had another very puffy diaper wrapped around his hips, had a pacifier placed in his maw, and found himself snuggled in against a mommy malamute's chest while she rubbed his bare back and patted his freshly-padded bottom, cooing softly into his ear, "There, there now... it's okay, baby. It's okay, don't be upset..." Despite the fact that having a pacifier placed in between his lips and being held in a pair of strong arms was reassuring, the mouseboy was too overwhelmed by his embarrassment to pull himself together, so he just buried his face against the warm mommy malamute's shirt and bawled his little eyes out.

Fortunately, like most bouts of infantile fussiness, it didn't last long. Jeremy had quickly cried himself out, and after being given a kiss on the forehead, he was laid on his tummy in a playpen in the living room. A blanket patterned with airplanes, cars, and trains was laid across his back, while he was given a grey plush dog to snuggle and use as a pillow. That outburst must have tuckered him out, because in just a few moments, he had dozed off and was sleeping soundly, while he nursed quietly on his pacifier.

It couldn't have been more than twenty or thirty minutes before he stirred again, and for a short time he wasn't at all sure about where he was. For a very brief moment he thought that maybe the events of the last few hours had all been a dream. But when he lifted his head off the stuffed dog underneath him and found himself staring through the mesh wall of a playpen at a television turned to some PBS children's show with the sound turned down low, he quickly realized it had all been very real. Remembering all that humiliation sent a rush of color to Jeremy's cheeks and made him start reflexively suckling on his pacifier, looking for just a bit of solace. He rolled onto his back and kicked the baby blanket off of himself, frowning as he realized he was dressed in nothing but a diaper. When he sat up, he felt the padding compress under his backside, and he was dismayed to feel damp warmth in between his legs. He reached a paw down to experimentally press his fingers against the thickness of the diaper, and he confirmed that he had somehow managed to wet himself in the very short time since he had been put in his new padding. It was while he was fretting over that revelation that he glanced up and noticed somebody leaning over the edge of the playpen and looking down at him.

At first, he thought it was Ryan, but the malamute peering down over the playpen's plastic barrier was much too small. This littler canine looked like a miniature version of Ryan. Despite being about half as tall, he was still quite solidly-built. He looked a bit softer, but he was still very solidly-built, as most members of the malamute breed usually are. The smaller dog's fluffy fur and soft, rounded features made him look very young, maybe five or six at the oldest, but the mouse was puzzled by the canine's apparent age, because the dog still seemed to be a few inches taller than he would be, if he were standing up. That is to say, if he could stand up, because that proposition was still rather in doubt. The top of the playpen's wall would be just about at Jeremy's nose, but this dog was just able to lean over it, elbows resting on the line holding up the plastic mesh. The young malamute lad smiled when their eyes met, and began to coo in the sickly-sweet voice that young children use when they're speaking to babies, an unpracticed imitation of his mother's soothing tone.

"Hi there, baby mouse! Did you have a nice nap?" That tone, and those words, coming from a pup who was barely bigger than him at all and was definitely a lot younger, had an interesting effect on the mouse. He tried to cry out that he wasn't a baby, thinking that perhaps he might have recovered enough of his big-boyishness now that Ryan and his mother weren't in the room, but his lips and tongue still failed to work for him. The little malamute (who must have been Ryan's younger brother, Jeremy realized) awwed and leaned down, reaching his paw into the playpen to rub in between the mouse's ears. "What a cute little guy! You look like you should be old enough to talk, but I guess you still have a lot to learn, huh?" Jeremy just furrowed his brow. He'd never had this kind of reaction to a fur around his own size, but it seemed that the situation he was in - waking up nothing but a wet diaper while laying in an oversized playpen - combined with the fact that the younger canine clearly thought he was just a baby, seemed to be having the same sort of effect on him that his proximity to Ryan or his mother had.

It wasn't quite the same effect, though. The treatment that Jeremy had received from Ryan's mother managed to put him in an extremely infantile state, and actually helped him to enjoy it, because he wasn't thinking about how he should have been embarrassed. Now that he was more aware of himself, he was plenty embarrassed about what had happened in retrospect, though. But with this little malamute pup rubbing his ears and cooing down at him, the mouse felt spectacularly little and helpless, but rather than slipping into acceptance, he only felt the difference between his real age and the age he was being treated as more acutely, and it was especially humiliating.

Unfortunately, the pup took Jeremy's squirming and look of embarrassment for some other sort of infantile discomfort, and since he had caretaker genetics, he was compelled to comfort the small mouse. The malamute carefully climbed over the plastic wall of the playpen, which was something Jeremy probably wouldn't have been able to do even if he wasn't overwhelmed with cubbyish feelings. Once inside, he plopped down and sat cross-legged in front of Jeremy. Particularly once he was seated, Jeremy could tell that the puppy wasn't very much bigger than him at all, really. But all the same, the way the malamute regarded him, it was very clear that the mouse wasn't being considered as anything like a peer. The grin on the pup's face was one of a young cub interacting with an even younger one, the excitement in his face reflecting the fact that someone his age and size rarely found himself in a position of authority. And he was relishing one of his first tastes of being bigger than someone else.

The little pup slid his paws under the mouse's arms and hefted him up, not with the effortlessness of the bigger malamutes, but still with relatively ease considering his youth. He grunted and set the little diapered mouse down on his lap. His ears perked as he heard the mouse's diaper squish and felt the warmth on his fur. "Oooooooh," the malamute was unable to hide his glee when he realized the mouseboy had wet his diaper. The mouse was jostled until he was half-cradled in the malamute's arm as the boy dipped a paw to squeeze that padding against the mouse's crotch, nodding his head in confirmation. "Yeah, you definitely wet your diaper, baby mouse. It's all warm and wet and squishy! But that's okay. It's what diapers are for, after all. You didn't make a mess, did you?" Although Jeremy could have easily shook his head to answer 'no,' the malamute didn't give him the chance. He simply bent the mouse over, tugged back on his diaperseat and peered inside. He certainly took his time to make his assessment, hmming thoughtfully for a moment before he allowed the plastic waistband to snap back into place against the mouse's backside. "Nope, you're not a stinkybutt."

The little malamute rubbed his palm against the mouse's diapered bottom, bouncing Jeremy a bit as he wiggled his nose. "It's a good thing, too!" His other paw tickled the mouse's chubby little tummy, as he mused, "You're a kind of pudgy baby, so I bet you make really big, stinky messes. Peeyoo!" The puppy stuck out his tongue and gave the mouse a particularly large bounce, shaking his head. "But it's okay. Little babies in diapers like you are really stinky, sometimes. Some day you'll get potty-trained, but I bet it's a long way off. You have to learn to walk and talk, first! I guess you'll be a little diaper-mouse for a while. I used to wear diapers too, but now I'm a big boy. I'm going to be a big boy like my brother Ryan, soon." The littler malamute grinned toothily and tickled under the mouse's chin, "Maybe you'll be out of diapers by the time you're Ryan's age, baby mouse!"

Of course, even though the little dog was entirely unaware of the fact, Jeremy was probably a little older than Ryan already, and yet here he was: wearing wet diapers and sitting in the lap of a cub barely out of them, but who was already clearly much more of a big boy than he was - maybe more than he would ever be! He gurgled and fidgeted, feeling the effects of all his helplessness over the past few hours wash over him all at once. It was terrifying! To be unable to communicate, to take care of himself, to do anything at all on his own, to feel so unbelievably small and defenseless around people so much bigger and stronger than he was, to be utterly dependent on their care... Having the capabilities of an infant but having the adult awareness to recognize how frightening that state can be is not an easy combination to deal with.

But on the other hand, despite how vulnerable he had been this entire time, he hadn't come to any harm. This entire malamute family was doing everything it could to keep him safe, comfortable, and even happy. And despite being as embarrassed as he'd ever been for most of the day, some very important - even essential - deeply-rooted part of him was feeling very fulfilled, somehow. He hadn't really noticed until just then, as he hadn't been aware enough to recognize that feeling for most of the day. It was some part of him that he hadn't ever noticed before, or hadn't wanted to notice. He suddenly realized that this whole little problem of his, this tendency to feel cubby around bigger furs, it came from a deeply-rooted desire - or even need - he had been trying his whole life not to recognize, a desire to be small and helpless, and to just be kept safe.

Suddenly reaching an understanding about himself that had eluded him for his entire life was a shock, to say the least. The experience left Jeremy feeling rather raw. Powerful epiphanies about one's truest and most fundamental desires in life are not the sort of thing one stumbles across every day, so one can expect to have an intense reaction when hit with one. That reaction can be enhanced further when it occurs while one is wearing nothing but a wet diaper and snuggled into another fur's lap. Jeremy, finding himself in precisely this situation, found his eyes welling up with tears, his lower lip quivering for a moment, before he started to cry again. The young malamute who was holding him (whose name was Kyle, by the way), and who had thus far been quite enjoying his taste of being bigger than someone else, saw the look on the mouse's face and immediately realized that he was about to be out of his depth. As Jeremy buried his muzzle against Kyle's shoulder, the young malamute quickly stood, hefting the diapered mouse up with him, and said, "Uh-oh! Looks like somebody's upset... let's go find Mom or Ryan!" The small malamute grunted as he adjusted the mouse's position, both paws under his diapered rear, as Jeremy wrapped his arms around Kyle's shoulders and his thighs around Kyle's waist. Somehow, the pup managed to scramble out of the playpen this way.

"Mom! Ryan! The baby's crying!" Kyle called out, with a mixture of barely-concealed panic and a very strong desire to keep it concealed, since he figured that panicking would not go very far towards soothing the sobbing baby mouse in his arms. He ran into the kitchen, where Ryan and his mother were sitting around the table. They looked like they had just been talking. They both looked down at Kyle as he held up the mouse, rapidly explaining, "I don't know why he's so upset; his diaper is wet, but he didn't seem to mind and I didn't do anything to make him cry, I promise!" The younger malamute slipped his paws under the mouse's armpits, holding him out for one of the adults to take the little mouseboy off his hands. It was clear that now that the baby wasn't just cooing and squirming and looking cute, he wasn't enjoying the responsibility anymore.

Ryan and his mom exchanged a glance before the bigger malamute stood up and easily hefted Jeremy from his little brother's arms. He held the crying mouse against his chest, supporting his weight with one massive paw under his wet, diapered bottom, while the other gently held the back of his head, nearly enveloping it. He rumbled into the mouse's ear, cooing quietly, "It's okay, little guy. Shhhh, it's okay, everything's gonna be fine." Jeremy, who was still reeling from the embarrassment of being teased by Kyle, along with his epiphany about the source of his babyishness, was profoundly relieved to be back in the big malamute's arms. He stopped sobbing almost immediately and just buried his face against the big dog's shoulder. The littler malamute let out a sigh of relief as he saw the baby calm down, and Ryan rubbed his nose reassuringly against the mouse's forehead, while he carried the mouseboy back to the nursery.

Ryan settled into the rocking chair and cradled Jeremy snugly, looking down at him with an inscrutable expression on his face. He appeared to be watching the mouse curiously, while he slowly rocked back and forth. Jeremy, on the other hand, had his face pressed in against the malamute's chest, and he held onto a fistful of the big dog's shirt in his paw, still sniffling softly. But the gentle rocking motion, coupled with Ryan's warmth and the feeling of his big, thumping heart-beat soothed the little mouseboy. He was fully aware, this time, of how comforting it was for him to be in this position, of how much he wanted to be cradled this way, but that awareness didn't make those feelings any less powerful. Jeremy's breathing slowed down to a peaceful, regular pace, and the corners of his lips turned up in a little smile.

The big dog rumbled softly, shaking his head slowly, almost in disbelief. "This is really real for you, isn't it, Jeremy?" It took the mouse a moment - several moments, actually - to realize that Ryan had just used his name for the first time that whole day. He immediately bolted upright in the malamute's lap, his eyes wide as his diaper squished underneath him. How did Ryan suddenly know his name? The dog reached into his front pocket with his free paw and pulled out a small wallet - Jeremy's wallet. "I found it just a little while ago, when I was putting your wet pants in the laundry."

The mouse's face fell. His heart jumped into his throat. So Ryan knew that he wasn't really a baby mouse, that he was a grown-up. But he didn't know that Jeremy couldn't help himself! He must have thought that Jeremy was insane, or a pervert, or who knows what else... Being woken up from a pleasant haze of juvenile bliss to start worrying about being mistaken for some kind of demented headcase was certainly not a pleasant experience, and Jeremy was not exactly emotionally equipped to deal with it. He did the only he could do, just at that moment. He scrunched up his face, like he was about to cry, and quivered like a leaf against Ryan's chest..

Ryan chuckled a bit and shifted the mouse's weight, so his diapered bottom was resting on his knee. His big canine paws wrapped around the little mouse's hands, as the malamute started to bounce Jeremy on his knee. "Hey now, no crying! Don't worry, little Squeaker - I mean, Jeremy." The mouse blinked in surprise. Was Ryan really not mad at him? He burbled softly, still unable to explain himself in any effective way. The dog continued, "I am curious, though, why you didn't tell us that you weren't a baby. What was going on, anyway?" Despite the fact that he still didn't know how he was going to explain the situation, or how Ryan would react even once he knew what had happened, Jeremy was incredibly relieved that the big dog seemed to accept the fact that he had been treating somebody older than him like an infant for the better part of the day with good-natured aplomb.

What followed was a lengthy if one-sided conversation, in which Ryan managed to get Jeremy to explain the whole situation at long last. It's not worth reproducing in full, since it mostly involved Jeremy nodding, shaking his head, and occasionally squeaking or gurgling if something was particularly exciting. He still couldn't talk like an adult, but they managed to talk it through in this fashion, instead. It took some time, but eventually Ryan understood Jeremy's little problem, which had caused all of the confusion in the first place. He thought it was pretty funny, once it had become clear, and after he knew the mouse's real age, he actually seemed to get even more of a kick out of tickling the mouse under his chin, patting his diapered seat, or blowing a zerbert across his chubby belly. It continued to be embarrassing, but Jeremy couldn't really deny it - he kind of enjoyed it, too.

It was then that Ryan got an idea.

* * *

Ryan stopped his pickup in front of the mouse's house. He turned off the engine and glanced into the backseat, where Jeremy was sitting in a combination carseat / infant carrier. He had been dressed in a pair of denim shortalls over top of a baby blue onesie. The mouse was fidgeting and blushing, but he was quiet, just continuing to suckle on the pacifier in his muzzle. "We're here, Jeremy! I called ahead, so your room-mates are expecting you. Come on, I bet they'll help carry your new furniture to your room."

The bed of the truck was loaded up with things from the nursery at Ryan's house. Ryan and his mom had decided to give them to Jeremy, since Kyle had been moved into his new room for months now, and the nursery was just going unused. Ryan's mom had felt bad about putting it all into storage, but she loved the idea of letting Jeremy have it. The mouse wasn't sure how thrilled he was with the idea at first, but he wasn't in much of a position to argue, and the more he thought about it, the more okay he was with the idea. It actually sounded kind of fun, even though he wasn't exactly eager to admit it. Ryan and his mom loaded up the truck, and the mother malamute gave Jeremy a tight hug, a kiss on the forehead, and a pat on the bottom, before she helped him into the carseat. While she was buckling him in, she blushed softly, realizing that when she was bent over like that, she was nearly showing off her cleavage to the little mouse. She glanced at him and hesitated for just a moment, before whispering that she hoped he would come back and visit them again soon, so she could babysit him again. She had laughed at how bright red the fur on Jeremy's cheeks turned, then winked at him and shut the door.

Ryan hefted Jeremy's carrier out of the backseat and carried him up to the front door. As soon as he rang the bell, all three of the mouse's housemates rushed to open it, and they all broke down in a fit of giggles as they 'awwed' at their roomie's outfit. One of them turned to another and said, "I told you!" while the third one leaned forward and pinched his cheek, "It's about time you figured this out, Jeremy. I think everybody but you knew you were a big baby."

The mouse was shocked to see their reactions, no question. He had been nervous about whether they were going to make fun of him, or what, but he guessed they had seen him in similar sorts of positions before - maybe never quite like this, but he guessed but the hints had been there before. In fact, they had figured out his secret, innermost desires well before he had, so when Ryan had called them, they weren't surprised in the least.

Jeremy was lifted out of the carrier by Ryan, who carried the little mouseboy on his hip. It didn't take long for the big dog and the mouse's housemates to carry in all the furniture from the malamute's truck and finish setting it up. In no time at all, Jeremy's bedroom had been filled with a crib, a changing table, and a high chair, no longer needed by Ryan's little brother, and perfectly sized for a small boy who needed to take the occasional trip back into babyhood. Underneath it all was the foam playmat, which had just the perfect amount of give underneath bare footpaws (much nicer than hardwood) and would be much easier to wipe clean than carpet.

Despite having taken a short nap earlier in the afternoon, everything that had happened over the course of the day - it had been a very interesting day, in the end - had left the mouse exhausted. When Ryan was finished with assembling the high chair, he noticed the mouse yawning and rubbing his eyes. So he helped Jeremy out of his shortalls, gave him an efficient but tender diaper change, and then tucked him into crib, covering his body with a baby blanket as he murmured, "Nighty-nite, baby Jeremy. It was good to meet you, and I can't wait to see you again, the next time you need some looking after." The mouse's eyelids fluttered as he watched the big malamute through the crib bars, his huge frame flipping off the light switch and then squeezing tightly through the door frame.

Jeremy wriggled a bit, finding the perfect comfortable spot on his side. He curled up, drawing his knees towards his chest. He wasn't far from dreamland, and as he drifted off, he thought about how he would be a big boy again when he woke up - able to talk and walk and take care of himself again. On one level, that realization was a relief, since it's not so fun to be as helpless as that forever, but it was a little bit bittersweet for him as well. It was very nice to be taken care of, after all. As he let out a deep, contended sigh and slipped into slumber, he was already thinking about the next time he would go visit the malamutes.