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"description": "Commission #222\nFor Wonald\n\nHitbox was a character whose original design was gifted to me by my friend Judgement Kazzy and bought from a seller of OCs in need of a home, PretzelGremlin on Twitter. I re-designed him a bit and gave him a name and viola. Here he is. He's a gamer cat in his early 20's with a cool exterior (and a bit of a babyish interior). I've shown him off to a few close friends but one of them commissioned a story based on him so that I could get his personality out there to the rest of you. So that's what this is. Enjoy.\n\n---\n\nSupport me on SubscribeStar or Pixiv FANBOX and get images and bi-weekly stories. Even more colored images await you for 10 dollar patrons and above too. Check it out at https://subscribestar.adult/sdcharm or http://sdcharm.fanbox.cc/\n",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "Commission #222
For Wonald
Hitbox was a character whose original design was gifted to me by my friend Judgement Kazzy and bought from a seller of OCs in need of a home, PretzelGremlin on Twitter. I re-designed him a bit and gave him a name and viola. Here he is. He's a gamer cat in his early 20's with a cool exterior (and a bit of a babyish interior). I've shown him off to a few close friends but one of them commissioned a story based on him so that I could get his personality out there to the rest of you. So that's what this is. Enjoy.
---
Support me on SubscribeStar or Pixiv FANBOX and get images and bi-weekly stories. Even more colored images await you for 10 dollar patrons and above too. Check it out at https://subscribestar.adult/sdcharm or http://sdcharm.fanbox.cc/
",
"writing": "The chat was buzzing with activity as Hitbox the Bombay locked his sights on an enemy player in Last Man Standing, the ultra-popular, unending battle royale game of the century. No matter how many overpriced cosmetics and celebrity bootlicking endorsements it saw, the game just would not die.\n\nHis fingers glided over the controller with precision, ears perked beside his black headphones, the glowing blue light indicating he was in full gamer mode.\n\n\"Alright, chat, we’re dropping hot today,\" Hitbox said, his voice calm and serious as he built a ramp to dodge incoming fire. \"We’re going for the win. No stupid plays, just pure skill.\"\n\nA donation alert popped up on the screen, accompanied by a robotic voice reading it out:\n[i]“$5 from PixelPaws: ‘Big fan, Hitbox! Keep up the great stream! Hopefully the water doesn’t run dry in real life either.’”[/i]\n\nHitbox smirked. \"Appreciate it, PixelPaws. Yeah, the lake drying out during that last match was… strangely timed but whatever.\"\n\nAnother donation alert came through:\n[i]“$10 from ShadowClaw99: ‘Hey Hitbox, what’s your fav game of all time?’”[/i]\n\n\"That’s easy,\" Hitbox said, expertly sniping an enemy player mid-air. \"Legend of the Emerald Stars. A real classic. It’s really overdue for a remake. Or, I guess a remaster would be fine. God, it’s been too long. Maybe that’ll be worth considering for a stream. Thanks for the ten, ShadowClaw.\"\n\nThen, the next donation hit, and Hitbox's tail gave a twitch at the words flashing on screen.\n[i]“$3 from LaughTrack: ‘Yo Hitbox, why does Jeremy always mop the floor with you? You ever gonna beat that guy?’”[/i]\n\nHitbox’s eyes narrowed slightly. His ears twitched, but his expression remained as neutral as possible. He grabbed the can of Gamma Pounce Ultra XP, a clearly over-the-top energy drink with a pixelated logo of a snarling rabid bull with broken sunglasses on the side, and took a long sip. \"Pfft, yeah, Jeremy? Nah. Not worried about him. He wins sometimes, sure, but it’s not like it ever means anything. In fact, we don’t even need to talk about—\"\n\n“Dude, Jeremy’s streaming right now!” a chat message blared in neon text.\n\nHitbox almost choked on his drink. His ears perked straight up as he heard the one voice he did not want to hear—Jeremy’s—come through his headphones in the game’s voice chat.\n\n\"Yo, Hitbox,\" Jeremy the Beagle’s smug, cocky voice rang out, loud and clear. \"Didn’t know you were playing Last Man Standing. You sure this is a good idea, buddy? Hate to embarrass you again in front of your little fan club.\"\n\n[b]PFFFFFT!![/b]\n\nHitbox spit out his drink, spraying it all over his hoodie and controller. His tail bristled as his fur stood on end. He quickly un-muted his mic, glaring at the chat as they flooded the screen with a wave of baby bottle emojis and crying baby faces.\n\nThe anger was already building. First, came the scowl. Then, the clenched teeth. \"Oh, I am so totally fine, chat. SO Totally fine.\"\n\nHe hated seeing those specific emojis. They would show up a lot in his chat and for a very special reason…\nJeremy chuckled. \"Oh man, are you getting mad already? That’s adorable. Hope you don’t throw a tantrum when I wipe the floor with you again.\"\n\nHitbox’s eye twitched. \"I. Am. NOT. MAD.\"\n\nHis chat did not believe him.\n\nThe match countdown began, the players skydiving toward the island battleground of Last Man Standing. Hitbox gripped his controller a little tighter, forcing his breathing to stay steady. He wasn’t going to let Jeremy get in his head this time.\n\nBut, of course, Jeremy was already talking.\n\n“Oh man, Hitbox, I can already feel the rage bubbling up in you,” Jeremy teased through voice chat. “You’re gonna be so mad when I win again.”\n\nHitbox took another sip of his [b]Gamma Pounce Ultra XP[/b] (the hit gamer fuel of choice for all you gamer bros out there) doing his best to sound cool and unbothered. “Pfft, yeah, sure, dude. That’s not happening. Not today.” His tail flicked behind him as he kept his voice steady. “This time, I’m taking you down.”\n\nJeremy chuckled. “Oh yeah? You know, you sound real confident. Tell you what—why don’t we make things interesting?”\n\nHitbox’s ear twitched. “What do you mean?”\n\n“You’re so certain you’re not gonna lose, right?” Jeremy continued. “Then let’s put something on the line. A little real-life challenge. Since we’re both on camera, let’s make a deal—every time one of us wins a match, the loser has to take off a piece of clothing.”\n\nHitbox nearly choked again. His chat began to fill with messages.\n\n[i]\"OMG YES DO IT.\"\n \"No way he agrees lmao.\"\n \"Hitbox about to get humbled.\"\n \"Jeremy’s setting you up, bro.\"[/i]\n\nHitbox’s eyes darted to his webcam, showing him in his usual setup—black hoodie, sweatpants, headphones. He could see Jeremy on his own stream too, lounging back in his chair with his usual smug grin, looking way too comfortable.\n\nHitbox smirked, trying to regain control of the situation. “Heh. You’re really asking for trouble, dude. Fine. I accept. And when I win, everyone’s gonna see whatever ridiculous underwear you’ve got on.”\n\nJeremy burst out laughing. “Oh, Hitbox. Buddy. Pal. I love your confidence.”\n\nThe match began.\n\nHitbox was playing like his life depended on it. His paws gripped the controller tightly, his eyes darting across the screen as he built cover, looted weapons, and tracked enemy players. He was determined to wipe that smug grin off Jeremy’s face.\n\nThe chat was going wild, split between hyping up Hitbox and egging on Jeremy.\n\n[i]“C’mon, Hitbox, clutch it up!”\n “Jeremy’s gonna smoke him lmao.”\n “Bro, imagine him losing in the first round. His soul is gonna leave his body.”[/i]\n\nHitbox exhaled through his nose. Focus. Play smart.\n\nThen—gunfire.\n\nAn ambush.\n\n“Wait, what?!” Hitbox yelped as his health bar plummeted. He scrambled to build a defense, but Jeremy was already ahead of him, breaking through his walls like it was nothing.\n\n\"Uh-oh, Hitbox,\" Jeremy sang through voice chat. \"Looking kinda cornered there, buddy.\"\n\nHitbox tried to launch a last-second counterattack, but it was too late.\n\nBANG!\n\n[b]YOU HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED.[/b]\n\nThe screen turned gray.\n\nThe chat began to rupture before him.\n\n[i]“LMAOOOOOOOO.”\n“BRO LOST THE FIRST ROUND!”\n“Ain’t no way.”\n“PANTS OFF, PANTS OFF!”[/i]\n\nHitbox sat completely frozen, staring at the screen. His pupils shrank to tiny dots, sweat forming on his forehead. His tail was stiff. His ears would not stop their twitching.\n\nJeremy’s laughter filled his headphones. “Ohhh, wow. That was rough, Hitbox. First match losses always sting the hardest. I mean, I wouldn’t know but I assume you…”\n\nHitbox slowly turned his gaze toward the webcam, his eyes still wide with shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.\n\n“Oh, and you know what happens now,” Jeremy added, his voice full of mischief. “Time to take something off.”\n\nHitbox’s tail flicked, and he shook his head, trying to regain his composure. He had none to regain so he faked it. “Pfft, whatever. No big deal.” He rolled his shoulders like he wasn’t bothered. “Just a warm-up round.”\n\nJeremy grinned. “Yeah? Then let’s not delay things. Pants first.”\n\nHitbox’s confidence wavered. “H-Huh? W-Why pants first?”\n\n“Oh, c’mon, man,” Jeremy said, stretching lazily in his chair. “You know the chat doesn’t wanna wait for the best part. Let’s see what we’re working with.”\n\nThe chat was chanting now.\n\n“PANTS OFF! PANTS OFF! PANTS OFF!”\n\nHitbox’s ears folded back slightly as a deep blush spread across his face. “Tch. Fine. If that’s what you really wanna see.” He put on his best tough guy act, standing up from his chair and slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants.\n\nThen, with one quick motion, he pulled them down.\n\nThe camera caught everything. His video game-themed briefs; a white pair of undies with a vivid green elastic and golden symbols from The Legend of Zelda were on display. The waistband had pixelated swords and shields patterned across it.\n\nThe chat had another eruption.\n\n[i]“OMG NOT THE ZELDA UNDIES”\n“HITBOX NOOOOO”\n“BRO IS A FULL-ON NERD! OF COURSE THOSE ARE ON HIS BUTT!”\n“LMAO THOSE ARE KINDA FIRE THO”[/i]\n\nJeremy was howling with laughter. “Dude. DUDE. You’re talking about my underwear when you’re out here rocking the kiddie briefs from Hyrule?!”\n\nHitbox crossed his arms, cheeks burning, trying to keep a straight face. “Whatever, man. These are cool. It’s a classic game series. Great designs too.”\n\nJeremy wiped away a fake tear. “Nah, nah, you’re right. It’s just hilarious seeing you standing there in your little hero undies like you’re about to go on a quest.”\n\nHitbox growled, tail lashing behind him. “Enjoy it while you can, dude. ‘Cause next round? You’re losing something.”\n\nJeremy smirked. “We’ll see about that.”\n\nMATCH STARTING IN 3… 2… 1… \n—\n\nThe matches came and went, but Hitbox’s luck never turned around.\n\nOne loss. \n\nThen another. \n\nThen [b]another.[/b]\nEvery single round, Jeremy outplayed him, taking him down with ease while laughing at his suffering. Each time, Hitbox had to remove another piece of clothing, and the chat lived for it. \n\nNow, he was down to just his socks and his briefs —his Legend of Zelda undies, still on full display. His tail flicked wildly and nervously as he sat in his gaming chair, arms down while clutching his controller tightly, doing his absolute best to keep his expression neutral. \n\nThe chat was going wild. \n\n[i]“BRO GOT STRIPPED TO HIS UNDEROOS LMAOOOO.”\n“The hero’s final armor piece.”\n“We were right all along. BABYBOX CONFIRMED.”\n“Next round, socks go. And then…?? 👀”[/i]\n\nJeremy, meanwhile, was kicking back in his chair, still fully clothed, watching the chaos unfold. “Awww, Hitbox,” he said with a smirk. “You’re looking a little… under-dressed, buddy.” \n\nHitbox fidgeted but took a slow breath. “Pfft. It’s fine. I don’t care.” He forced a smug grin, as if sitting there half-naked wasn’t completely humiliating. “You got lucky, dude. That’s all.” \n\nJeremy snorted. “Lucky? Dude, I’ve been schooling you all night.” \n \nHitbox clenched his jaw, his ears flicking about. “Y-Yeah, well, next round, I’m turning it around.” \n \n“Oh?” Jeremy laughed. “You sure about that? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, you’re one loss away from being completely done.” \n\nChat was eating this up.\n\n[i]“HE’S GONNA LOSE EVERYTHING.”\n“HITBOX, YOU BETTER CLUTCH THIS OR IT’S OVER.”\n“BRO HAS TO WIN THIS ROUND OR HE’S TOAST.”[/i]\n\nHitbox swallowed. His tail curled slightly. He needed to focus. He needed to— \n\nMATCH STARTING IN 3… 2… 1…\n\nThe game launched, and immediately, Hitbox was tense. Every move he made felt life or death. He played cautiously, landing a few decent shots, keeping Jeremy at bay— \n\nAnd then. \n\nBLAM.\n\nA sniper shot. \n\nJeremy had headshotted him from across the map. \n \n[b]YOU HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED.[/b]\n\nThe screen faded to gray. \n\nHitbox stared at it. \n\nThe chat exploded. \n\n[i]“LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”\n“BRO DIDN’T EVEN LAST 5 MINUTES.”\n“THAT WAS BRUTAL.\" \n“IT’S OVER FOR HIM.”\n[/i]\n\nJeremy cackled. “Ohhhhhh my GOD, dude! That was the fastest one yet! You didn’t even put up a fight! I wasn’t even trying that time!” \n\nHitbox was shaking. \n\nHis ears straightened up. \n\nHis tail bristled. \n\nHis hands clenched into fists. \n\nJeremy kept going. “Welp! Rules are rules, man! That was the last round, so that means—” \n\n[b]SNAP.[/b]\n\nHitbox lost it.\n\n\"THIS IS SO STUPID!!” he screeched, flailing his arms wildly. “IT’S RIGGED! YOU’RE CHEATING! THIS GAME SUCKS! EVERYTHING SUCKS!!” \n\nHis legs kicked out, his tail whipped around, and he flailed his fists up and down rapidly. His voice cracked as he ranted, his face turning a deep shade of red. \n\n“I SHOULD HAVE WON! I HAD A PLAN! BUT NOOO, YOU JUST HAD TO BE A STUPID CHEATING DOG WITH YOUR STUPID LUCKY SHOTS! IT’S NOT FAIR! IT’S NOT FAIRRRR!” \n\n[i]“OH MY GOD IT HAPPENED.”\n“BABYBOX MODE ACTIVATED.”\n“SOMEONE GET HIM A PACIFIER.”\n“LMAOOOOOOOO HE’S ACTUALLY WIGGING OUT.” \n“LOOK AT HIS FACE AHAHAHA.”[/i]\n\nThe baby bottle and crying baby emojis flooded the screen, their true meaning having been revealed.\nHitbox always tried to keep his cool but when the chips were down and he’d lost a number of times it was only a matter of time before BABYBOX MODE was activated. He would cry, rant, scream, and flail about like a baby. He’d look like the complete opposite of his normally chill self. It was quite the amazing contrast and it was a part of what made him a moderate streaming success despite his losing streak. \n \nJeremy, grinning ear to ear, leaned back and mockingly sucked his thumb. “Awwww, is somebody a wittle upset?” he cooed. \n\nHitbox growled, but the damage was done. Another tantrum was forever immortalized in his own chat, and he knew it. \n\nJeremy wiped fake tears from his eyes. “Dude. I am never letting you live this down.” \n\nHitbox, still seething, crossed his arms and pouted. “Whatever,” he grumbled, his tail flicking angrily behind him. \nThe chat kept spamming baby emojis.\n\nHitbox was fuming, his tail flicking about violently now as he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the screen. “Okay, okay, fine! Socks next, right? Lemme just—”\n\nJeremy snorted. “Nah, dude. Forget the socks.”\n\nHitbox froze.\n\nHis face turned red.\n\nThe chat knew where this was going and predictably went wild.\n\n[i]“LOL HE WANTS THE UNDERWEAR NEXT.”\n“OH MY GOD.”\n“RIP LEGEND OF ZELDA BRIEFS.”\n“BABYBOX IS GONNA BE NAKIE.”[/i]\n\nThe bombay was standing now, chair twirling behind him. Hitbox’s fur bristled as he leaned forward, fists clenched, his butt wiggling slightly in frustration as he yelled at his screen. “ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS, JEREMY?! YOU JUST WANT ME TO GO FULL—”\n\nJeremy grinned. “What’s wrong? You scared, dude?”\n\nHitbox tensed.\n\nJeremy tilted his head. “I mean, hey, if you’re too much of a coward, we can call it here. Everyone will just know you couldn’t handle it.”\n\nThe chat couldn't help but prop those words up too.\n\n[i]“HITBOX CAN’T BACK DOWN NOW.”\n“HE’S GONNA LOSE ALL HIS CLOTHES LMAOOO.”\n“FULL COMMITMENT BABY LET’S GOOOO.”[/i]\n\nHitbox’s eye twitched. He knew this was a trap. He knew Jeremy was messing with him. But his pride—his stubborn, stupid pride—wouldn’t let him back down.\n\n“… Fine,” he growled. “But one more match. One.” He pointed at the screen. “If I win, you have to do your next stream in whatever outfit I pick.”\n\nJeremy grinned wider. “Okay. But if I win then naturally you’re doing your entire next stream in an outfit of my choosing.”\n\nHitbox narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly would that be?”\n\nJeremy chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll find out after you lose.”\n\nHitbox’s ears shot up. “HOW DO YOU KNOW I’LL LOSE?!”\n\nJeremy just laughed.\n\nHitbox seethed.\n\nThe chat was so engaged. You had to be on this stream. Had to!\n\n[i]“HITBOX THIS IS A BAD IDEA BRO.”\n“JEREMY IS 100 STEPS AHEAD.”\n“IT’S ALREADY OVER LOL.”[/i]\n\nJeremy clapped his hands together. “Alright then, let’s get this over with. But first—” His smirk widened. “—go ahead and take those briefs off.”\n\nHitbox’s stomach dropped.\n\nJeremy leaned forward. “And I don’t mean the normal way.”\n\nThere went the chat. \n\n[i]“OH NO.”\n“OH MY GOD HE’S GONNA MAKE HIM DO A WEDGIE RIPOFF.\"\n“HITBOX YOU CAN’T LET THIS HAPPEN DUDE.”[/i]\n\nHitbox’s face was on fire. “You’re KIDDING.”\n\nJeremy shrugged. “Rules are rules, man. If you’re gonna do it, you gotta commit.”\n\nHitbox gritted his teeth. His ears flattened. His tail twitched violently.\n\nThen, finally, with a miserable groan, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his briefs, yanked up as hard as he could, and—\n\n“WEDGIEEEEEEEEE!!!”\n\nHis eyes crossed, his mouth hung open, and his tail shot straight up as his own underwear practically tore apart in his hands. The chat lost their minds.\n\n[i]“OH MY GOD HE ACTUALLY DID IT AHAHAHAHA.”\n “THAT WAS SO BRUTAL HOLY CRAP.”\n“HITBOX JUST SELF-DESTRUCTED.”\n“HITBOX, BUDDY, ARE YOU OKAY???”\n“WHOA! WHAT A TINY WEE WEE!”\n“IT’S SO CUUUUTE!”\n“HE’S GOT A LOVELY WITTLE OSCAR MYER WEINER!”[/i]\n\nHitbox staggered, his fur standing on end, seeing stars. His head lolled to the side, tongue hanging out as he wobbled. “Hhhhhhhghhhh…”\n\nJeremy was crying laughing. “Dude. I can’t. That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”\n\nThe chat was spamming laughing emojis, baby bottles, and RIP tombstones. Pour one out for the Zelda briefs.\nHitbox, still dazed, flopped forward onto his desk, groaning. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, eyes twitching in pain.\n\nMATCH STARTING IN 3… 2… 1…\n\nHe had to win this.\n—\n\n[b]DEFEAT.[/b]\n\nHitbox sat there, his paws gripping his head, his ears squished, and his tail completely limp. The words \"GAME OVER\" flashed across the screen in bold, mocking letters. The chat was going absolutely insane.\n\n[i]“LOOOOOL HE LOST EVERYTHING.”\n“HITBOX NEVER STOOD A CHANCE.”\n“BABYBOX ERA HAS BEGUN.”\n“SOMEONE DRAW THIS RIGHT NOW.”[/i]\n\nJeremy, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear, arms folded behind his head like he had just casually destroyed an entire kingdom. “Welp. That’s that.” He dusted off his hands, like he just finished a hard day’s work. “Now. As for your little forfeit…”\n\nHitbox slowly looked up, praying it wasn’t that bad.\n\nJeremy’s grin widened. “For your entire next stream, you’re gonna be dressed as a baby.”\n\nHitbox’s fur stood on end.\n\nJeremy kept going. “We’re talking full get-up. Diaper. Bonnet. Pacifier. And oh—” he chuckled. “You better have a big ol’ baby bottle filled with that ‘Gamer Fuel’ you love so much.”\n\nHitbox’s eye twitched.\n\n[i]“IT HAPPENED. IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.”\n“BABYBOX CONFIRMED! HOLY SHIT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”\n“BRO IS NEVER LIVING THIS DOWN.”\n“THIS STREAM GONNA BE LEGENDARY.”[/i]\n\nJeremy laughed. “I’ll let you keep your socks, though.”\n\nHitbox swayed in his seat, his brain short-circuiting from the sheer humiliation. His eyes rolled inward, crossing goofily.\n\n“Guhhh…”\n\nThen, with a soft, pathetic sigh, he plopped backward out of his chair, legs stiff in the air, his thumb instinctively popping into his mouth.\n\nTHUMP.\n\nJeremy blinked. “Did he just faint?”\n\n“HE’S DEAD.”\n“SOMEONE REVIVE HIM.”\n“DID HE ACTUALLY SUCK HIS THUMB?!”\n“GUYS WE BROKE HIM.”\n\nJeremy, barely containing his laughter, leaned into his mic.\n\n“See you all next week for the very first Babybox Stream.”\n\nThe stream cut to black.\n—\n\n[i]STREAM STARTING…[/i]\n\nThe screen faded in, revealing Hitbox the Bombay… dressed like the world’s most adorable gamer baby.\nHe sat stiffly in his gamer chair, his arms crossed, his tail swishing about, and his ears perked up in pure, seething embarrassment. He was wearing a comically oversized baby bonnet, a frilly pink bib with \"Goo-Goo Gamer\" written on it, a massive diaper crinkling under him, and his usual socks—his only mercy.\n\nThe worst part? The pacifier. He sucked on it aggressively, fuming in silence.\n\nDING! DING! DING!\n\nThe chat was already exploding.\n\n[i]\"IT'S REAL. BABYBOX IS REAL.\"\n\"PEAK.\"\n\"CRINKLE CRINKLE.\"\n\"THAT BONNET LOOKS SO CUTE ON YOU!\"[/i]\n\nDonations poured in instantly.\n\n[i]\"$5 from BabyRager69: How's our wittle baby streamer doin' today? UwU\"[/i]\n\nHitbox’s eye twitched. He violently sucked on the pacifier, refusing to answer.\n\n[i]\"$10 from WetPantsGamer: Diaper lookin’ fresh, king.\"[/i]\n\nA low growl rumbled in his throat.\n\n[i]\"$15 from JeremyFan420: Kinda crazy how Jeremy isn’t even streaming today so you got double your normal viewers. LMAO.\"[/i]\n\nHitbox froze.\n\nHe whipped his head to the viewer count—it was insanely high. His biggest stream ever.\n\nThis wasn't because they wanted to see him play.\n\n They just wanted to see Babybox suffer.\n\nHe gripped his controller, his claws digging in.\n\n“…Let’s just... get this... over with,” he muttered.\n\nHitbox locked in, determined to salvage whatever shred of dignity he had left.\n\n[i]JEREMY JOINED THE LOBBY.[/i]\nDING! DING! DING!\n\n[i]\"$20 from Jeremy_Has_Your_Soul: Wassup, Babybox?\"[/i]\n\n\"PFFFFFTTT—!\" Hitbox immediately spat out his pacifier. It slopped lazily against his chest thanks to the string attached to it around his neck. He slammed a fist on his desk. “YOU'RE NOT EVEN STREAMING! WHY ARE YOU HERE?!”\n\nJeremy’s voice came through the game chat.\n\n“I'm here because I'm not streaming. Hurr Durr. Just here to keep my streak alive, bro.” He chuckled. “Now hurry up and build something before I knock that bonnet off your head.”\n\n[i]\"OMG THIS IS EVEN BETTER THAN LAST TIME.\"\n\"HE'S JUST HERE TO TORMENT HIM NOW.\"\n\"BABYBOX CAN'T ESCAPE LMAOOO.\"[/i]\n\nHitbox was trembling. He had never wanted to win more in his life.\n\nThe match started.\n\nFive minutes in—disaster.\n\nThe screen flashed “ELIMINATED BY JEREMY_HAS_YOUR_SOUL” in bold, shining letters.\n\nHitbox’s fur bristled. His tail puffed up. His claws dug into his desk.\n\n[i]\"EZ CLAP.\"\n\"BABYBOX ERA IS ETERNAL.\"\n\"STILL CAN'T WIN A SINGLE MATCH. SMH.\"[/i]\n\nJeremy’s voice came through the mic, dripping with mock sympathy.\n\n“Aw, tough break, Babybox. Try again next ti—\"\n\n\"WAAAAAAGH!!!\"\n\nHitbox snapped.\n\nA sudden warmth spread through his diaper.\n\n[i]PSSSSSSSHHHHHH.[/i]\n\nHis ears shot straight up. His eyes widened.\n\nHe just… wet himself.\n\nThe chat, naturally, lost it's goddamn mind.\n\n[i]\"NO. WAY. HE. JUST. DID. THAT.\"\n\"FULL TODDLER MODE ACTIVATED.\"\n\"HE LITERALLY JUST PEED HIMSELF FROM LOSING. HELP.\"[/i]\n\nJeremy’s laughter pierced through the speakers.\n\n\"Bro, did you just—NO WAY. YOU [b]RAGE-WET YOURSELF!\"[/b]\n\nHitbox trembled. His face turned BEET RED.\n\nThen, it happened.\n\nThe full Babybox meltdown.\n\nHe flung his controller across the room.\n\n He kicked his legs and pounded his fists on the desk.\n\n He whined in full baby-mode, screaming at the top of his lungs.\n\n\"IT'S NOT FAIR!!! IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FAAAAAAIRRR!!!\"\n\nDING! DING! DING!\n\nThe baby bottle and crying emojis flooded the chat.\n\n[i]\"$50 from UltimateBabyMode: I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED HARDER IN MY LIFE.\"[/i]\n[i]\"$100 from BabyBoxFanForLife: ABSOLUTE PEAK COMEDY. NEVER STREAM ANY OTHER WAY.\"[/i]\n\nJeremy was wheezing with laughter. \"Yo. Yo, chat. Can we get some #PermanentBabybox going in here? 'Cause I think we just found his true form.\"\n\nThe chat instantly obeyed.\n\n\"#PermanentBabybox\" trended instantly.\n\nHitbox, panting, red-faced, diaper sagging, collapsed back into his chair.\n\nThe pacifier dangled from his bib.\n\nHe shoved it back in his mouth and continued to loudly whine through it.\n\nJeremy howled with laughter.\n\n[i]STREAM OFFLINE.[/i]\n\nThe Babybox stream became legendary.\n\nClips flooded the internet. Memes were made. And Babybox may have just became his new brand. Whether he wanted it to or not.",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "The chat was buzzing with activity as Hitbox the Bombay locked his sights on an enemy player in Last Man Standing, the ultra-popular, unending battle royale game of the century. No matter how many overpriced cosmetics and celebrity bootlicking endorsements it saw, the game just would not die.
His fingers glided over the controller with precision, ears perked beside his black headphones, the glowing blue light indicating he was in full gamer mode.
"Alright, chat, we’re dropping hot today," Hitbox said, his voice calm and serious as he built a ramp to dodge incoming fire. "We’re going for the win. No stupid plays, just pure skill."
A donation alert popped up on the screen, accompanied by a robotic voice reading it out:
“$5 from PixelPaws: ‘Big fan, Hitbox! Keep up the great stream! Hopefully the water doesn’t run dry in real life either.’”
Hitbox smirked. "Appreciate it, PixelPaws. Yeah, the lake drying out during that last match was… strangely timed but whatever."
Another donation alert came through:
“$10 from ShadowClaw99: ‘Hey Hitbox, what’s your fav game of all time?’”
"That’s easy," Hitbox said, expertly sniping an enemy player mid-air. "Legend of the Emerald Stars. A real classic. It’s really overdue for a remake. Or, I guess a remaster would be fine. God, it’s been too long. Maybe that’ll be worth considering for a stream. Thanks for the ten, ShadowClaw."
Then, the next donation hit, and Hitbox's tail gave a twitch at the words flashing on screen.
“$3 from LaughTrack: ‘Yo Hitbox, why does Jeremy always mop the floor with you? You ever gonna beat that guy?’”
Hitbox’s eyes narrowed slightly. His ears twitched, but his expression remained as neutral as possible. He grabbed the can of Gamma Pounce Ultra XP, a clearly over-the-top energy drink with a pixelated logo of a snarling rabid bull with broken sunglasses on the side, and took a long sip. "Pfft, yeah, Jeremy? Nah. Not worried about him. He wins sometimes, sure, but it’s not like it ever means anything. In fact, we don’t even need to talk about—"
“Dude, Jeremy’s streaming right now!” a chat message blared in neon text.
Hitbox almost choked on his drink. His ears perked straight up as he heard the one voice he did not want to hear—Jeremy’s—come through his headphones in the game’s voice chat.
"Yo, Hitbox," Jeremy the Beagle’s smug, cocky voice rang out, loud and clear. "Didn’t know you were playing Last Man Standing. You sure this is a good idea, buddy? Hate to embarrass you again in front of your little fan club."
PFFFFFT!!
Hitbox spit out his drink, spraying it all over his hoodie and controller. His tail bristled as his fur stood on end. He quickly un-muted his mic, glaring at the chat as they flooded the screen with a wave of baby bottle emojis and crying baby faces.
The anger was already building. First, came the scowl. Then, the clenched teeth. "Oh, I am so totally fine, chat. SO Totally fine."
He hated seeing those specific emojis. They would show up a lot in his chat and for a very special reason…
Jeremy chuckled. "Oh man, are you getting mad already? That’s adorable. Hope you don’t throw a tantrum when I wipe the floor with you again."
Hitbox’s eye twitched. "I. Am. NOT. MAD."
His chat did not believe him.
The match countdown began, the players skydiving toward the island battleground of Last Man Standing. Hitbox gripped his controller a little tighter, forcing his breathing to stay steady. He wasn’t going to let Jeremy get in his head this time.
But, of course, Jeremy was already talking.
“Oh man, Hitbox, I can already feel the rage bubbling up in you,” Jeremy teased through voice chat. “You’re gonna be so mad when I win again.”
Hitbox took another sip of his Gamma Pounce Ultra XP (the hit gamer fuel of choice for all you gamer bros out there) doing his best to sound cool and unbothered. “Pfft, yeah, sure, dude. That’s not happening. Not today.” His tail flicked behind him as he kept his voice steady. “This time, I’m taking you down.”
Jeremy chuckled. “Oh yeah? You know, you sound real confident. Tell you what—why don’t we make things interesting?”
Hitbox’s ear twitched. “What do you mean?”
“You’re so certain you’re not gonna lose, right?” Jeremy continued. “Then let’s put something on the line. A little real-life challenge. Since we’re both on camera, let’s make a deal—every time one of us wins a match, the loser has to take off a piece of clothing.”
Hitbox nearly choked again. His chat began to fill with messages.
"OMG YES DO IT."
"No way he agrees lmao."
"Hitbox about to get humbled."
"Jeremy’s setting you up, bro."
Hitbox’s eyes darted to his webcam, showing him in his usual setup—black hoodie, sweatpants, headphones. He could see Jeremy on his own stream too, lounging back in his chair with his usual smug grin, looking way too comfortable.
Hitbox smirked, trying to regain control of the situation. “Heh. You’re really asking for trouble, dude. Fine. I accept. And when I win, everyone’s gonna see whatever ridiculous underwear you’ve got on.”
Jeremy burst out laughing. “Oh, Hitbox. Buddy. Pal. I love your confidence.”
The match began.
Hitbox was playing like his life depended on it. His paws gripped the controller tightly, his eyes darting across the screen as he built cover, looted weapons, and tracked enemy players. He was determined to wipe that smug grin off Jeremy’s face.
The chat was going wild, split between hyping up Hitbox and egging on Jeremy.
“C’mon, Hitbox, clutch it up!”
“Jeremy’s gonna smoke him lmao.”
“Bro, imagine him losing in the first round. His soul is gonna leave his body.”
Hitbox exhaled through his nose. Focus. Play smart.
Then—gunfire.
An ambush.
“Wait, what?!” Hitbox yelped as his health bar plummeted. He scrambled to build a defense, but Jeremy was already ahead of him, breaking through his walls like it was nothing.
"Uh-oh, Hitbox," Jeremy sang through voice chat. "Looking kinda cornered there, buddy."
Hitbox tried to launch a last-second counterattack, but it was too late.
BANG!
YOU HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED.
The screen turned gray.
The chat began to rupture before him.
“LMAOOOOOOOO.”
“BRO LOST THE FIRST ROUND!”
“Ain’t no way.”
“PANTS OFF, PANTS OFF!”
Hitbox sat completely frozen, staring at the screen. His pupils shrank to tiny dots, sweat forming on his forehead. His tail was stiff. His ears would not stop their twitching.
Jeremy’s laughter filled his headphones. “Ohhh, wow. That was rough, Hitbox. First match losses always sting the hardest. I mean, I wouldn’t know but I assume you…”
Hitbox slowly turned his gaze toward the webcam, his eyes still wide with shock. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.
“Oh, and you know what happens now,” Jeremy added, his voice full of mischief. “Time to take something off.”
Hitbox’s tail flicked, and he shook his head, trying to regain his composure. He had none to regain so he faked it. “Pfft, whatever. No big deal.” He rolled his shoulders like he wasn’t bothered. “Just a warm-up round.”
Jeremy grinned. “Yeah? Then let’s not delay things. Pants first.”
Hitbox’s confidence wavered. “H-Huh? W-Why pants first?”
“Oh, c’mon, man,” Jeremy said, stretching lazily in his chair. “You know the chat doesn’t wanna wait for the best part. Let’s see what we’re working with.”
The chat was chanting now.
“PANTS OFF! PANTS OFF! PANTS OFF!”
Hitbox’s ears folded back slightly as a deep blush spread across his face. “Tch. Fine. If that’s what you really wanna see.” He put on his best tough guy act, standing up from his chair and slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his sweatpants.
Then, with one quick motion, he pulled them down.
The camera caught everything. His video game-themed briefs; a white pair of undies with a vivid green elastic and golden symbols from The Legend of Zelda were on display. The waistband had pixelated swords and shields patterned across it.
The chat had another eruption.
“OMG NOT THE ZELDA UNDIES”
“HITBOX NOOOOO”
“BRO IS A FULL-ON NERD! OF COURSE THOSE ARE ON HIS BUTT!”
“LMAO THOSE ARE KINDA FIRE THO”
Jeremy was howling with laughter. “Dude. DUDE. You’re talking about my underwear when you’re out here rocking the kiddie briefs from Hyrule?!”
Hitbox crossed his arms, cheeks burning, trying to keep a straight face. “Whatever, man. These are cool. It’s a classic game series. Great designs too.”
Jeremy wiped away a fake tear. “Nah, nah, you’re right. It’s just hilarious seeing you standing there in your little hero undies like you’re about to go on a quest.”
Hitbox growled, tail lashing behind him. “Enjoy it while you can, dude. ‘Cause next round? You’re losing something.”
Jeremy smirked. “We’ll see about that.”
MATCH STARTING IN 3… 2… 1…
—
The matches came and went, but Hitbox’s luck never turned around.
One loss.
Then another.
Then another.
Every single round, Jeremy outplayed him, taking him down with ease while laughing at his suffering. Each time, Hitbox had to remove another piece of clothing, and the chat lived for it.
Now, he was down to just his socks and his briefs —his Legend of Zelda undies, still on full display. His tail flicked wildly and nervously as he sat in his gaming chair, arms down while clutching his controller tightly, doing his absolute best to keep his expression neutral.
The chat was going wild.
“BRO GOT STRIPPED TO HIS UNDEROOS LMAOOOO.”
“The hero’s final armor piece.”
“We were right all along. BABYBOX CONFIRMED.”
“Next round, socks go. And then…?? 👀”
Jeremy, meanwhile, was kicking back in his chair, still fully clothed, watching the chaos unfold. “Awww, Hitbox,” he said with a smirk. “You’re looking a little… under-dressed, buddy.”
Hitbox fidgeted but took a slow breath. “Pfft. It’s fine. I don’t care.” He forced a smug grin, as if sitting there half-naked wasn’t completely humiliating. “You got lucky, dude. That’s all.”
Jeremy snorted. “Lucky? Dude, I’ve been schooling you all night.”
Hitbox clenched his jaw, his ears flicking about. “Y-Yeah, well, next round, I’m turning it around.”
“Oh?” Jeremy laughed. “You sure about that? ‘Cause from where I’m sitting, you’re one loss away from being completely done.”
Chat was eating this up.
“HE’S GONNA LOSE EVERYTHING.”
“HITBOX, YOU BETTER CLUTCH THIS OR IT’S OVER.”
“BRO HAS TO WIN THIS ROUND OR HE’S TOAST.”
Hitbox swallowed. His tail curled slightly. He needed to focus. He needed to—
MATCH STARTING IN 3… 2… 1…
The game launched, and immediately, Hitbox was tense. Every move he made felt life or death. He played cautiously, landing a few decent shots, keeping Jeremy at bay—
And then.
BLAM.
A sniper shot.
Jeremy had headshotted him from across the map.
YOU HAVE BEEN ELIMINATED.
The screen faded to gray.
Hitbox stared at it.
The chat exploded.
“LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”
“BRO DIDN’T EVEN LAST 5 MINUTES.”
“THAT WAS BRUTAL."
“IT’S OVER FOR HIM.”
Jeremy cackled. “Ohhhhhh my GOD, dude! That was the fastest one yet! You didn’t even put up a fight! I wasn’t even trying that time!”
Hitbox was shaking.
His ears straightened up.
His tail bristled.
His hands clenched into fists.
Jeremy kept going. “Welp! Rules are rules, man! That was the last round, so that means—”
SNAP.
Hitbox lost it.
"THIS IS SO STUPID!!” he screeched, flailing his arms wildly. “IT’S RIGGED! YOU’RE CHEATING! THIS GAME SUCKS! EVERYTHING SUCKS!!”
His legs kicked out, his tail whipped around, and he flailed his fists up and down rapidly. His voice cracked as he ranted, his face turning a deep shade of red.
“I SHOULD HAVE WON! I HAD A PLAN! BUT NOOO, YOU JUST HAD TO BE A STUPID CHEATING DOG WITH YOUR STUPID LUCKY SHOTS! IT’S NOT FAIR! IT’S NOT FAIRRRR!”
“OH MY GOD IT HAPPENED.”
“BABYBOX MODE ACTIVATED.”
“SOMEONE GET HIM A PACIFIER.”
“LMAOOOOOOOO HE’S ACTUALLY WIGGING OUT.”
“LOOK AT HIS FACE AHAHAHA.”
The baby bottle and crying baby emojis flooded the screen, their true meaning having been revealed.
Hitbox always tried to keep his cool but when the chips were down and he’d lost a number of times it was only a matter of time before BABYBOX MODE was activated. He would cry, rant, scream, and flail about like a baby. He’d look like the complete opposite of his normally chill self. It was quite the amazing contrast and it was a part of what made him a moderate streaming success despite his losing streak.
Jeremy, grinning ear to ear, leaned back and mockingly sucked his thumb. “Awwww, is somebody a wittle upset?” he cooed.
Hitbox growled, but the damage was done. Another tantrum was forever immortalized in his own chat, and he knew it.
Jeremy wiped fake tears from his eyes. “Dude. I am never letting you live this down.”
Hitbox, still seething, crossed his arms and pouted. “Whatever,” he grumbled, his tail flicking angrily behind him.
The chat kept spamming baby emojis.
Hitbox was fuming, his tail flicking about violently now as he crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the screen. “Okay, okay, fine! Socks next, right? Lemme just—”
Jeremy snorted. “Nah, dude. Forget the socks.”
Hitbox froze.
His face turned red.
The chat knew where this was going and predictably went wild.
“LOL HE WANTS THE UNDERWEAR NEXT.”
“OH MY GOD.”
“RIP LEGEND OF ZELDA BRIEFS.”
“BABYBOX IS GONNA BE NAKIE.”
The bombay was standing now, chair twirling behind him. Hitbox’s fur bristled as he leaned forward, fists clenched, his butt wiggling slightly in frustration as he yelled at his screen. “ARE YOU FREAKING SERIOUS, JEREMY?! YOU JUST WANT ME TO GO FULL—”
Jeremy grinned. “What’s wrong? You scared, dude?”
Hitbox tensed.
Jeremy tilted his head. “I mean, hey, if you’re too much of a coward, we can call it here. Everyone will just know you couldn’t handle it.”
The chat couldn't help but prop those words up too.
“HITBOX CAN’T BACK DOWN NOW.”
“HE’S GONNA LOSE ALL HIS CLOTHES LMAOOO.”
“FULL COMMITMENT BABY LET’S GOOOO.”
Hitbox’s eye twitched. He knew this was a trap. He knew Jeremy was messing with him. But his pride—his stubborn, stupid pride—wouldn’t let him back down.
“… Fine,” he growled. “But one more match. One.” He pointed at the screen. “If I win, you have to do your next stream in whatever outfit I pick.”
Jeremy grinned wider. “Okay. But if I win then naturally you’re doing your entire next stream in an outfit of my choosing.”
Hitbox narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly would that be?”
Jeremy chuckled. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll find out after you lose.”
Hitbox’s ears shot up. “HOW DO YOU KNOW I’LL LOSE?!”
Jeremy just laughed.
Hitbox seethed.
The chat was so engaged. You had to be on this stream. Had to!
“HITBOX THIS IS A BAD IDEA BRO.”
“JEREMY IS 100 STEPS AHEAD.”
“IT’S ALREADY OVER LOL.”
Jeremy clapped his hands together. “Alright then, let’s get this over with. But first—” His smirk widened. “—go ahead and take those briefs off.”
Hitbox’s stomach dropped.
Jeremy leaned forward. “And I don’t mean the normal way.”
There went the chat.
“OH NO.”
“OH MY GOD HE’S GONNA MAKE HIM DO A WEDGIE RIPOFF."
“HITBOX YOU CAN’T LET THIS HAPPEN DUDE.”
Hitbox’s face was on fire. “You’re KIDDING.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Rules are rules, man. If you’re gonna do it, you gotta commit.”
Hitbox gritted his teeth. His ears flattened. His tail twitched violently.
Then, finally, with a miserable groan, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his briefs, yanked up as hard as he could, and—
“WEDGIEEEEEEEEE!!!”
His eyes crossed, his mouth hung open, and his tail shot straight up as his own underwear practically tore apart in his hands. The chat lost their minds.
“OH MY GOD HE ACTUALLY DID IT AHAHAHAHA.”
“THAT WAS SO BRUTAL HOLY CRAP.”
“HITBOX JUST SELF-DESTRUCTED.”
“HITBOX, BUDDY, ARE YOU OKAY???”
“WHOA! WHAT A TINY WEE WEE!”
“IT’S SO CUUUUTE!”
“HE’S GOT A LOVELY WITTLE OSCAR MYER WEINER!”
Hitbox staggered, his fur standing on end, seeing stars. His head lolled to the side, tongue hanging out as he wobbled. “Hhhhhhhghhhh…”
Jeremy was crying laughing. “Dude. I can’t. That was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.”
The chat was spamming laughing emojis, baby bottles, and RIP tombstones. Pour one out for the Zelda briefs.
Hitbox, still dazed, flopped forward onto his desk, groaning. “Let’s just get this over with,” he muttered, eyes twitching in pain.
MATCH STARTING IN 3… 2… 1…
He had to win this.
—
DEFEAT.
Hitbox sat there, his paws gripping his head, his ears squished, and his tail completely limp. The words "GAME OVER" flashed across the screen in bold, mocking letters. The chat was going absolutely insane.
“LOOOOOL HE LOST EVERYTHING.”
“HITBOX NEVER STOOD A CHANCE.”
“BABYBOX ERA HAS BEGUN.”
“SOMEONE DRAW THIS RIGHT NOW.”
Jeremy, meanwhile, was grinning ear to ear, arms folded behind his head like he had just casually destroyed an entire kingdom. “Welp. That’s that.” He dusted off his hands, like he just finished a hard day’s work. “Now. As for your little forfeit…”
Hitbox slowly looked up, praying it wasn’t that bad.
Jeremy’s grin widened. “For your entire next stream, you’re gonna be dressed as a baby.”
Hitbox’s fur stood on end.
Jeremy kept going. “We’re talking full get-up. Diaper. Bonnet. Pacifier. And oh—” he chuckled. “You better have a big ol’ baby bottle filled with that ‘Gamer Fuel’ you love so much.”
Hitbox’s eye twitched.
“IT HAPPENED. IT ACTUALLY HAPPENED.”
“BABYBOX CONFIRMED! HOLY SHIT! THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”
“BRO IS NEVER LIVING THIS DOWN.”
“THIS STREAM GONNA BE LEGENDARY.”
Jeremy laughed. “I’ll let you keep your socks, though.”
Hitbox swayed in his seat, his brain short-circuiting from the sheer humiliation. His eyes rolled inward, crossing goofily.
“Guhhh…”
Then, with a soft, pathetic sigh, he plopped backward out of his chair, legs stiff in the air, his thumb instinctively popping into his mouth.
THUMP.
Jeremy blinked. “Did he just faint?”
“HE’S DEAD.”
“SOMEONE REVIVE HIM.”
“DID HE ACTUALLY SUCK HIS THUMB?!”
“GUYS WE BROKE HIM.”
Jeremy, barely containing his laughter, leaned into his mic.
“See you all next week for the very first Babybox Stream.”
The stream cut to black.
—
STREAM STARTING…
The screen faded in, revealing Hitbox the Bombay… dressed like the world’s most adorable gamer baby.
He sat stiffly in his gamer chair, his arms crossed, his tail swishing about, and his ears perked up in pure, seething embarrassment. He was wearing a comically oversized baby bonnet, a frilly pink bib with "Goo-Goo Gamer" written on it, a massive diaper crinkling under him, and his usual socks—his only mercy.
The worst part? The pacifier. He sucked on it aggressively, fuming in silence.
DING! DING! DING!
The chat was already exploding.
"IT'S REAL. BABYBOX IS REAL."
"PEAK."
"CRINKLE CRINKLE."
"THAT BONNET LOOKS SO CUTE ON YOU!"
Donations poured in instantly.
"$5 from BabyRager69: How's our wittle baby streamer doin' today? UwU"
Hitbox’s eye twitched. He violently sucked on the pacifier, refusing to answer.
"$10 from WetPantsGamer: Diaper lookin’ fresh, king."
A low growl rumbled in his throat.
"$15 from JeremyFan420: Kinda crazy how Jeremy isn’t even streaming today so you got double your normal viewers. LMAO."
Hitbox froze.
He whipped his head to the viewer count—it was insanely high. His biggest stream ever.
This wasn't because they wanted to see him play.
They just wanted to see Babybox suffer.
He gripped his controller, his claws digging in.
“…Let’s just... get this... over with,” he muttered.
Hitbox locked in, determined to salvage whatever shred of dignity he had left.
JEREMY JOINED THE LOBBY.
DING! DING! DING!
"$20 from Jeremy_Has_Your_Soul: Wassup, Babybox?"
"PFFFFFTTT—!" Hitbox immediately spat out his pacifier. It slopped lazily against his chest thanks to the string attached to it around his neck. He slammed a fist on his desk. “YOU'RE NOT EVEN STREAMING! WHY ARE YOU HERE?!”
Jeremy’s voice came through the game chat.
“I'm here because I'm not streaming. Hurr Durr. Just here to keep my streak alive, bro.” He chuckled. “Now hurry up and build something before I knock that bonnet off your head.”
"OMG THIS IS EVEN BETTER THAN LAST TIME."
"HE'S JUST HERE TO TORMENT HIM NOW."
"BABYBOX CAN'T ESCAPE LMAOOO."
Hitbox was trembling. He had never wanted to win more in his life.
The match started.
Five minutes in—disaster.
The screen flashed “ELIMINATED BY JEREMY_HAS_YOUR_SOUL” in bold, shining letters.
Hitbox’s fur bristled. His tail puffed up. His claws dug into his desk.
"EZ CLAP."
"BABYBOX ERA IS ETERNAL."
"STILL CAN'T WIN A SINGLE MATCH. SMH."
Jeremy’s voice came through the mic, dripping with mock sympathy.
“Aw, tough break, Babybox. Try again next ti—"
"WAAAAAAGH!!!"
Hitbox snapped.
A sudden warmth spread through his diaper.
PSSSSSSSHHHHHH.
His ears shot straight up. His eyes widened.
He just… wet himself.
The chat, naturally, lost it's goddamn mind.
"NO. WAY. HE. JUST. DID. THAT."
"FULL TODDLER MODE ACTIVATED."
"HE LITERALLY JUST PEED HIMSELF FROM LOSING. HELP."
Jeremy’s laughter pierced through the speakers.
"Bro, did you just—NO WAY. YOU RAGE-WET YOURSELF!"
Hitbox trembled. His face turned BEET RED.
Then, it happened.
The full Babybox meltdown.
He flung his controller across the room.
He kicked his legs and pounded his fists on the desk.
He whined in full baby-mode, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"IT'S NOT FAIR!!! IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FAAAAAAIRRR!!!"
DING! DING! DING!
The baby bottle and crying emojis flooded the chat.
"$50 from UltimateBabyMode: I HAVE NEVER LAUGHED HARDER IN MY LIFE."
"$100 from BabyBoxFanForLife: ABSOLUTE PEAK COMEDY. NEVER STREAM ANY OTHER WAY."
Jeremy was wheezing with laughter. "Yo. Yo, chat. Can we get some #PermanentBabybox going in here? 'Cause I think we just found his true form."
The chat instantly obeyed.
"#PermanentBabybox" trended instantly.
Hitbox, panting, red-faced, diaper sagging, collapsed back into his chair.
The pacifier dangled from his bib.
He shoved it back in his mouth and continued to loudly whine through it.
Jeremy howled with laughter.
STREAM OFFLINE.
The Babybox stream became legendary.
Clips flooded the internet. Memes were made. And Babybox may have just became his new brand. Whether he wanted it to or not.",
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