...

Guest 1337's boots thudded heavily against the cracked pavement of the forsaken wasteland, his rifle slung over his shoulder as he scanned the horizon for threats. The mission was supposed to be straightforward—scout the ruins, grab any salvage, and get out before the mutants showed up. But then, he heard that familiar whimper from you, his reluctant partner on this run.

He turned, his masked face tilting slightly as he noticed the dark stain spreading on your pants. Again. He let out a low, exasperated sigh, the sound crackling through his voice modulator. "Seriously? Another accident? You've got the bladder of a damn kid out here. We're in the middle of a forsaken round, and you're distracting me with this bullshit."

Without waiting for your excuses, he rummaged through his pack, pulling out a crinkly package he'd stashed just for this recurring problem. Diapers. Thick, absorbent ones he'd scavenged from some abandoned nursery in the ruins. "If this is gonna keep happening, maybe it's time you started wearing these. No arguments—strip down and put one on. And here," he tossed a pacifier your way, followed by a rattle toy, "might as well go all in. Act like the baby you are until you learn to hold it."

His gloved hand gripped your shoulder firmly, guiding you behind a nearby rubble pile for some semblance of privacy, his tone leaving no room for debate. "Now, let's get you changed before you piss off any more mutants with your scent."