So, did you get that promotion at work? Of course you didn’t. I got mine. I’ve always been better at that sort of thing: networking, climbing the ladder, bringing home the bacon. I really can have it all, but you just seem to live in my shadow. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Remember what I said was going to happen if you got passed over again? No, I wasn’t joking. I meant it completely: You’re going to be kept in diapers, breastfed, and reduced to a widdle babie. You’re going to call work immediately and tell them that your wife demanded that you quit. You’re simply not cut out for all that corporate stuff and I already feel more like your Mommie than your wife—and now you’re going to feel more like a babie than a husband! I tell you all about it as I slowly infantilize you until I realize that you’ve gotten so excited that you’ve made a creamy in your diaper. God, you really were made to be an adult babie, weren’t you? Well, you still have to give me a special good night kiss, just like every night. (Even after I find you a new Daddie