Innocence

Zim was still very much regressed as he cried, he sucked his thumb for comfort, wishing he hadn't dropped his teddy as he ran. Fifteen minuted had gone by. He still couldn't believe what was happening. If he were to open that door, he would be ambushed and laughed at. He couldn't trust anything right now, all he knew was that he wanted his teddy. He summoned the courage to choke out in a babyish voice, "I want my teddy."

The trembling in his voice really got to Manson and Pogo. They kept trying to persuade the fragile minded guitarist into coming out. The keyboardist tapped on the door quietly, and said with a gentle voice, "if you're a good boy and come out, you can have Teddy. We just wanna talk to you, Zimmy, that's all."

Zim wasn't having it. He didn't want to talk! He just wanted to be a baby and feel okay. He covered his ears and sobbed out loud. "No!" he cried into his knees again, "No tawk, wan Teddy!" The awful situation just made him regress further.

Manson cleared his throat and whispered to Pogo, "Maybe we should save the questions and everything else for later," he said. Pogo raised his eyebrows, "But still, how do we get him out?" Manson thought for a moment, if Zim wanted to be a baby, why should they try to stop him? He gave a small smirk, "Let's try to communicate in a way he'll understand," he explained, "Let's....let's give him what he wants. He'll come around."

Zim sat against the bathroom door, feeling drained and nauseated from sobbing. His hair and makeup a mess, his diaper soaked, he sat there and looked down at the cold tiled floor, sullenly. "Please leave, please leave, please leave..." he mumbled under his breath. He instinctively bit the tips on his fingers with nervousness, chipping the pretty red polish that stained his nails.

A soft knock made him jump a bit. "Zim....sweetie?" came the gushy voice of the singer. Hearing him like that made the guitarist suddenly feel calmer. After a short pause, Manson spoke again, much more gentle and sweet than Zim has ever heard before. "Zimmy, you don't have to talk to us if you don't want to, okay, baby?" he said.

Zim wiped his eyes and sniffled, shifting to stare at the door behind him with a crinkle. He suddenly wasn't sure how to feel. Before he could squeak out a response, Manson spoke again. "I have your teddy bear right here, sweetie. He misses you, won't you come out and give him hugs?" he coaxed. Pogo chimed in, shaking the plastic baby keys to tempt him, "We've got everything you need to be comfortable, Zimmy."

They heard Zim shift from behind the heavy door as he slowly stood up. Having the mind of a baby made him naturally curious, he decided to take his chances. With a trembling hand, he unlocked the door. The two older men watched with anticipation as the doorknob wiggled. The bathroom door opened a crack, and Zim peeked out from behind his hair, his green eyes were glossy and innocent.

"That's it!" praised Manson. He held up the teddy bear. The door creaked as it slowly opened, and out came a shaken Zim Zum. He avoided eye contact with the two men completely, gazing at the floor. They couldn't help but find him cute, they way he sucked his fingers babyishly, and attempted to hide his diaper with his shirt. The singer smiled, "Good boy! I knew you could do it, buddy!"

He offered the guitarist the little plush bear with a big smile. Zim forgot all about staring at the carpet and trying to hide his undergarment, as he squeaked and grabbed the bear faster than Manson could even hold it up. Pogo chuckled as Zimmy squeezed the bear to his chest, putting his thumb to his mouth. "Awe," he couldn't help himself but coo at the sight. He came over and knelt down sweetly, offering Zim his pacifier.

Without a second thought he opened his mouth, accepting the plastic bulb. They watched as the guard bobbed up and down as he sucked happily. Marilyn put his arm around Zim in attempt to lead him to the bed, "C'mon little tyke, you must be exhausted," he said. The baby didn't move and just blinked up at the taller man, looking confused. Manson raised an eyebrow and looked at Pogo. "Huh," he chuckled and shrugged before Pogo decided to take measures into his own hands.

With a soft grunt, he picked up the smaller man like a baby, carrying him a few feet over to the bed. This made Zim absentmindedly coo and giggle behind his pacifier, melting the keyboardist's seemingly cold heart. "Awe, you like being carried around, don't ya, little stinker?" He asked in a playful voice. Zim blushed a soft shade of pink and clapped like a little toddler.

The boy was sat down on the big hotel bed with a rustle of his diaper. He looked up at the two men as they whispered a few things, feeling nervous. He tried to pay no mind and turned his attention to the beautiful moonlight outside.

"Alright, who's gonna change him?" Pogo whispered to Manson. The singer smirked, he was taking a liking to Zim being this way. It was much better than seeing him sad and anxious all the time. "Because, you know....I'm, uh...not really good at that stuff," admitted Pogo. Marilyn held back an amused laugh, "and you think I am?" "Hey man, you were the one who wanted to find out so bad," chuckled Pogo. Marilyn nodded, "I'll change him," he looked over at the cutie sitting on the bed, looking dazed, "and I'll even give him a bottle afterward." The singer smiled brightly.

With that, Pogo slipped into the darkness, and Manson walked over to the bed, "Whatchya doin', cutie?" He tickled the younger man in the ribs gently, making him squeal and giggle as he wiggled his small frame. Marilyn grinned, "so I hear you need your diaper changed." The antichrist had gone parental as he took his index finger to the elastic playfully and took a peek inside the front of Zim's diaper. "Hmmm, yep!" he confirmed, pulling his finger back, "definitely need a change, there."

Zim put his hands over his blushing cheeks, and watched silently as Manson investigated his suitcase for diapers. He hadn't even remembered peeing! The singer came back to the bed with a clean diaper, wipes, and powder, for the little one. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," he said as he unfolded the big diaper, "I don't want you getting a rash."

Zim allowed himself to lay back in the bed as Marilyn took over. He'd never changed a diaper before, let alone an adult diaper; But he figured, how hard could it be? It was at this point where Zim realized he was even more vulnerable than before. He lay there with a permanent blush, as the antichrist untaped and peeled off his dirty diaper, discarding it. He couldn't help but fuss a little, and Marilyn could tell he was uncomfortable.

"Shhh," He gave Zim the plastic keys to play with as he finished up wiping his groin and bottom. He attempted to distract the smaller man, "Tell me what colors they are, baby," he said in a sweet gushy tone that Zim soon began to adore. Zim sounded muffled behind the pacifier as he pointed to the red one, "wed." Manson nodded and listened as he finished up the job at hand.

He pointed to the blue one, "bwoo," and the yellow one, "yewwow," and the last one, the green one, "gween." He hadn't even noticed yet that his bottom was powdered and his diaper was taped up. That wasn't so hard. Marilyn gave another smile and praised him, "Very good! How'd you get to be so smart?" He gave the baby a soft pat on his butt, "See? All clean!" Zim couldn't help but beam up at the larger man.

"Are you ready for night-night?" asked the singer. Zim thought for a moment, before shaking his head, "Nuh-uh!" Marilyn smirked, figuring he would be stubborn. He went to retrieve the bottle from Zim's bag, "Oh? Well, maybe a bottle would help that." He knew the guitarist didn't drink milk, so he went to the hotel kitchenette and got some water.

Zimmy wiggled in the bed sheets as Marilyn returned. "Baba," he peeped out innocently. He held out his arms and made grabbing motions with his hands. "That's right, Zimmy!" he grinned and gently pulled the pacifier from Zim's lips. His cute little pout only lasted a second before his mouth willingly took in the rubber teat. Manson knew that water wasn't the same as warm milk, it wouldn't put him to sleep, so he took it upon himself to help out by cradling the smaller man and singing gently to him. "Take your hatred out on me," He sang, "Make your victim my head..."

Zim closed his eyes comfortably while he nursed. Manson continued to sing and rock him just a bit. All the while he thought back upon the night's events. Sure, Zim's way of dealing with his stress is pretty odd, but he didn't mind. In fact, he found it sort of intriguing. Manson just couldn't deny that he enjoyed this. He enjoyed seeing Zim in such a helpless position. Call him sick, but it just felt right.

He held Zim as the boy finally slept, playing the role of his guardian and protector. The questions and answers could wait. But honestly, Manson didn't care whether they'd come or not.

He preferred it this way.