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Melanie handed me the mug. “He’s yours for a while,” she whispered. “Then it’s my turn.” Ethan didn’t suspect a thing. He’d been grinning all night at the party upstairs, leering at us like we were prizes. By 10:47pm, I made sure he’d downed three drinks, all of which contained chamomile and a splash of something far more calm-inducing. He slumped against the couch shortly after he finished the third drink. What a dummy. He should have known not to accept a drink from a near-stranger.
“Let’s move him,” I said. Melanie smirked. “I bet he never suspected this would happen when he chose to go to the party.” We carried him down like a ragdoll. His protests dissolved into snores by the third step. The diaper we put him in was size XXL, which was a mocking fit for his bulky frame. Melanie held him still while I snapped the tabs. Ethan twitched once, as if he was dreaming of escape. If only he knew. lol I reached for the laxative, sweetened to taste like vanilla. He gulped it down in a bottle, oblivious to his current reality.
