Zoe turned on the webcam, and started showing a rough approximation of what the jacket looked like to Athena.
The two goth girls gushed and marveled at the find. A distraction, keeping Zoe unaware of the changes she had unwittingly brought upon her family.
The night had come by fast. Clouds curling over the sky and casting the world in shadows. Exactly what Linda Gibson wanted, a little privacy when you're walking your pup.
The cruel slave driver, as Zoe had called her, held the leash around her right hand with firmly but as if it was something she forgot about. She was more interested in the cigarette she inhaled as if it were the most delicious thing in the world.
Suddenly, there was a whimpering sound, a human voice barking.
"What is it, pup? You need to go? Is that it, you little animal?" Her leather and PVC outfit creaked as she bent at the knees. She took a drag of her cigarette, the glow illuminating a haughty sneer on her face.
Mikey whimpered again, pointing with his thick neoprene muzzle at a tree. The young boy was walking around on hands and knees, both thickly padded. The former were wrapped in thick rubber mittens shaped like dog paws, while his legs were tied up so that his feet touched his buttocks. The rest of his body was draped in white and black latex .- mimicking a dalmatian with a very short tail. The only thing that could be seen that betrayed his humanity, really, were his pleading, submissive eyes. The young boy was enjoying himself, even as his body hated the confinement.
"Is that it? Then go, pup. Go. But if you're not back here in a minute you will sleep in the doggy house," Linda laughed, as she unclipped Mikey's leash. The puppy ran as fast as his bondage would allow, reached the tree and lifted on leg.
Roger paused just outside Zoe's bedroom. For a moment, everything seemed... off. It was like his whole skin was crawling with a cold... something. Whatever the feeling was, it passed as quickly as it appeared.
"Oh, right... Jon," He said to himself.
The middle-aged father walked down the hallway and knocked on Jon's room. No response. Quietly, he cracked the door open and a warm smile came on his face.
Jon was still asleep, wrapped in his snug rubber onesie, suckling on his pacifier.
Roger didn't quite agree on Linda's insistence on keeping Jon swaddled on the weekends, but he had to agree it kept the kids from tearing each other's throats open. He just wondered what it would do to his masculinity, was all.
Suddenly, Jon spat out the pacifier with a wet pop. The small rubber nub shone red with saliva. Jon opened his eyes, blinked at the light, and started crying.
Here we go again, Roger sighed. He came into the room, cooing at his teenage-sized baby. I gotta figure out how to convince Linda to stop treating our child like, well, a child. I do not mind the latex but, damn, couldn't she have made him a pool boy or something? Maybe a manual worker.
Roger wasn't really involved in this part. Hesitant, and a little rough, he just brushed Jon's hair aside, cooed at him, placed the pacifier back in his mouth. Linda often pressed her hand on his diaper, but he was just not going to do that. He promised to not ever do that once Mikey was toilet trained.
After a while, Jon fell silent and curled back to sleep.
With a sigh, Roger left the room, softly locking the door behind him. He rested there a moment, with the back of his head against the wood and his eyes up to the ceiling.
"Okay," He said out loud. Something to distract him. Something that would take his mind away from the awkwardness of dealing with a latex-dressed grown-ass teenage baby. "Hmm... Latex, though. I wonder if I could find a gown for Zoe." He wondered out loud. Imagining a tailored gown, with fishnet gloves, and instead of a rose a little skull pinned to the shoulder. The thought alone excited him. He lived to dress Zoe up in whatever hot outfit she desired. "I just hope she hasn't grown too much since she last measured herself." Roger said as he angled towards the home computer.
