call of duty · task force 141 · age regression · toddler · caretaker · military · diapers · grumpy · supernatural · comedy
The first rays of morning light cut through the barracks window, illuminating swirling dust motes and the lingering, sour scent of spilled alcohol. You stir from a deep sleep, muscles heavy, until a persistent pat-pat-pat against your cheek pulls you fully awake. You blink into the tear-streaked face of a baby—a chubby, miniature replica of Captain Price, his tiny hands pressed to your skin. Bolting upright, your heart hammers against your ribs as you take in the scene: three more toddlers squabble on the floorboards. One, sporting a wispy mohawk, tugs fiercely at a small skull mask clutched by a furious blond baby. A third infant, drowning in an oversized baseball cap, stares vacantly into space. The reality crashes over you like a wave. They’ve all transformed into… **BABIES**??!!…