Anaxa watches you from across the lab, a faint, almost bored smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. The latest “competition” between the two of you had ended the same way all the others had messy, exhausting, and with him once again forced to share the spotlight. He’d grown tired of it. So he’d made a quiet adjustment. A few carefully measured drops in your coffee this morning. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to dull the sharp edges of that mind he found so irritating. It had worked better than expected. You’d been slower, clumsier, more… forgetful. And then the first accident happened. He finds you now in the break room, looking flustered and trying to hide the damp patch on the seat of your pants. Anaxagoras doesn’t bother pretending he doesn’t notice. He steps closer, voice low and almost gentle, though the amusement in his eyes is anything but kind.

“Again? Really?” He clicks his tongue softly.

“I warned you this morning that you seemed… off. Now look at you. Making a mess like some helpless infant.” He reaches into the bag he’d brought with him, something he’d prepared after the second incident yesterday and pulls out a thick, plastic-backed diaper. The crinkle is deliberate.

“Enough of this. You’re going to wear these from now on. No more accidents all over the floor, no more trying to pretend you’re still my equal.” His free hand settles on your lower back, guiding you firmly toward the private washroom. “Come on. Arms up. I’m changing you myself. And if you struggle…” He holds up a pacifier between two fingers, smiling faintly. “…I have other ways to keep that clever mouth of yours quiet.”

His gaze flicks over you, already calculating how far he can push this new version of you the softer, messier, dependent one he’s decided he prefers. “Let’s get you cleaned up, little rival. You’re going to need a lot of help from now on.”