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"description": "Commission #223\nFor Anonymous\n\n---\n\nIt was a typical sunny day at Middleton High, the kind where there was enough time gone by without incident that something absolutely ridiculous was absolutely waiting to happen.\n\nKim Possible sat in the home economics class, tapping her pencil on her desk and trying not to doze off while Mr. Barkin went over the week’s lesson plan. But her ears perked up when he said two words that made half the class groan and the other half giggle:\n\n[i]“Flour Babies.”[/i]\n\n“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Barkin growled, holding up a bag of flour like it was a sacred relic. “For the next week, you and a partner will be responsible for caring for your very own simulated infant. This project will teach you responsibility, maturity… and maybe, just maybe, why you shouldn’t rush into parenthood before you’ve finished Algebra.”\n\nWhy was this guy a catch-all substitute teacher? Truly, he missed his calling as a comedian.\n\nKim exchanged a glance with Ron Stoppable, her best friend-slash-sidekick-slash perpetual chaos magnet. Ron gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. Rufus popped out of his pocket and gave a tired yawn, clearly unimpressed by the announcement.\n\n“Aw man,” Ron mumbled, slumping in his chair. “Last time I babysat a real baby, it ended with me covered in pudding, spaghetti, and possibly glitter.”\n\n“What do you mean, possibly glitter? You aren’t sure?” Kim arched a brow. “Wait, wasn’t that your cousin’s birthday party?”\n\n“Yeah! Exactly!”\n\nMr. Barkin continued: “The flour bags are stored in the supply closet next to the gym. I’ll be assigning partners after lunch and then we’ll be distributing your little bundles of Pillsbury dough-joy.”\n\n---\n\nThat’s when the gears in Ron’s head started turning.\n\nYou see, Ron Stoppable was a lot of things: loyal, clumsy, occasionally heroic... but above all else, he had a gift for making bad decisions when bored.\n\n“So… what if…” he muttered to himself during lunch, peering down the hall toward the supply closet, “hypothetically... all the flour babies were gone before Barkin could pass them out?”\n\nRufus gave him a dubious squeak.\n\n“Think about it!” Ron whispered. “No flour babies, no partner project, no awkwardness if I get paired with Bonnie again!”\n\nAnd so, Operation: Flour-No-More commenced.\n\nNobody really knows how Ron pulled it off, but by the time sixth period rolled around, every single bag of flour had mysteriously exploded inside the supply closet. The janitor was still trying to wade through what looked like a bakery explosion while Barkin stood in stunned silence, holding a clipboard and trembling with rage.\n\n“WHO… DID… THIS?!”\n\nDead silence.\n\nNot a soul spoke up. Not even Ron. Especially not Ron.\n\nAfter a long, fuming pause, Mr. Barkin’s eyes narrowed.\n\n“Well. Looks like we’re going old school.”\n\nHe jabbed a finger at the class.\n\n“No flour? Fine. YOU’LL be the babies!”\n\nThe class gasped.\n\n“You will be paired off as usual, but one of you will be assigned the role of parent... and the other... will be the baby. Diapers. Bottles. Bibs. The whole nine yards.”\n\nRon’s face paled in a way that shined a spot-light on his cascading uneasiness. \n\nKim slowly turned to him, brow arched high. “Ron. You didn’t…”\n\nHe gulped. “...Define didn’t.”\n\nAnd just like that… Middleton High’s most bizarre weekend project began.\n\n---\nThe final bell rang, releasing a flood of students into the hallways like a dam had burst. Kim Possible adjusted her backpack and started heading for the exit, only for Ron to stumble up beside her, still looking shell-shocked from Mr. Barkin’s announcement.\n\n“So,” Kim said, keeping her tone casual but her smile teasing, “guess who just got assigned a brand-new baby?”\n\nRon sighed, dragging his feet. “I’m afraid to ask.”\n\nShe held up her slip of paper like it was a golden ticket. “Yup. I got you.”\n\nRon groaned. “Of course you did. Because the universe loves irony, and Barkin probably pulled names out of a hat too. It would have taken too much effort for him to rig it.”\n\nRufus popped his head out of Ron’s shirt collar and gave a giggle-snort. “Baaaby!”\n\n“Et tu, Rufus?!”\n\nKim chuckled, tucking the paper into her bag as they walked out the front doors into the spring afternoon. The sun was bright, birds chirping, and somewhere a lawnmower buzzed lazily — the kind of day that felt totally not like a great time to be enrolled in a public humiliation project.\n\n“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kim said lightly as they strolled toward the parking lot. “I’ve babysat for real babies. This should be easy. You just have to act the part and let me do the heavy lifting.”\n\nRon blinked. “Wait, act the part?”\n\n“Yeah,” Kim said, completely straight-faced. “We’re supposed to treat the project like the baby’s a real baby, right? So you’ll crawl, wear the little outfits, and I’ll change your—”\n\nShe didn’t finish the sentence, because Ron had stopped walking and was staring at her in horror.\n“Please, please tell me you don’t mean diapers.”\n\nKim paused. “Ron, we’re supposed to fully commit. It’s for a grade. Mr. Barkin said ‘bottles and diapers’ weren’t optional. He even made that weird growl noise.”\n\n“That’s his everything noise!”\n\nKim shrugged. “I just think of it like babysitting the neighborhood kids. You know, routines, feeding times, naps... except, you’ll actually tell me what flavor juice you want.”\n\nRon was looking more and more like a man walking toward the gallows. “I just thought I’d, like, wear a bib, maybe pretend to burp once or twice. I didn’t realize we were going method.”\n\nKim tried not to smile, but it was impossible. “Come on, you’ve played weirder roles on missions before. Remember that time you had to pretend to be a circus poodle?”\n\n“That was different! That was life or death! This is just... dignity death!”\n\nThey reached Kim’s car, and she opened the door before turning to look at him more seriously. “Look, I know it sounds humiliating—okay, it is humiliating—but hey, you and me? We’ve faced mutant gerbils, banana-based doomsday devices, and Drakken’s rapping phase. We can survive this.”\n\nRon exhaled deeply, flopping into the passenger seat. “Fine. I’ll be the baby. But I swear, if you try to feed me mashed peas, I will literally bite the hand that feeds.”\n\nKim just laughed and patted his head like a proud mom. “Aw, don’t worry, baby. Mommy’s got this all under control.”\n\n---\n\nShe did not have this under control.\n\nKim Possible had saved the world from evil masterminds, stopped giant robots with nothing but a lipstick laser, and passed every math test since sixth grade… but by day two of the baby project, she was learning a painful truth:\n\n[i]Teenagers are not the same as toddlers.[/i]\n---\n\nFirst, there was the initial spanking incident, of which there would be many.\n\nRon was on the couch, fidgeting in a pair of cartoonishly oversized footie pajamas Kim had dug out of some forgotten costume trunk from cheer practice. The fuzzy onesie had little rocket ships on it and was about two sizes too small, clinging to his limbs like a pastel prison. Underneath was a diaper that bulked out enough to emphasize that he was definitely wearing one underneath.\n\nKim was reading from the project guidelines. “It says here that discipline is important to baby development…”\n\nRon froze. “Uh… KP?”\n\nShe nodded solemnly. “So if you’re misbehaving—”\n\n“KP, I literally just sneezed!”\n\nShe set the book down. “It was a very loud sneeze.”\n\nBefore he could protest, she flipped him over her lap like it was a training simulation, and WHAP! Gave him a firm pat on the backside.\n\n[b]WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! [/b]\n\n“AH! This isn’t right!” Ron yelled.\n\n“Oh… you know what? You’re right.” Kim nodded.\n\nShe shuffled down the flap of his pajamas and the diaper underneath and continued the spanking on his bare bottom instead! There, much better!\n\n“AAAAAAH!” Ron screamed, tears flinging from his eyes as Rufus laughed in the distance. She just kept at it though.\n\nRon yelped and flailed, eyes wide. “Okay! Ow! What lesson are we learning here?!”\n\nKim blinked. “...That sneezing is rude?”\n\nThey both paused.\n\n“Okay, maybe I’m not nailing this yet,” she admitted, helping him up.\n\n“Maybe?!”\n\n---\n\nLater that day, Kim realized she had forgotten something crucial when she came downstairs and sniffed the air suspiciously.\n\n“Wait. Ron, did you…?” She sniffed again. “Did you actually use the diaper?!”\n\nRon was lying on a beanbag chair in the living room, playing a handheld game with an expression of pure boredom. “You forgot to let me out to pee,” he said flatly. “We’ve been ‘playing naptime’ for two hours. I was trapped.”\n\nKim blinked. “Oh my gosh. I forgot about bathroom breaks.”\n\nRufus waddled over with a clothespin on his nose and dove behind the couch with a dramatic moan.\nKim sighed. “Okay, diaper change time—”\n\n“Nope. No. Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line.”\n\n“But I’m the mom!”\n\n“You’re not a licensed mom!”\n\n“Ugh! Let me just–!” She pushed him down and Ron flopped there with his limbs out. \n\n“AUGH! Oh COME ON!” He blushed, feeling the embarrassment collide with him as he was finally changed. He must not have been too impressive down there because Kim said nothing about his little peen.\n\nSomehow the diaper ended up on him backwards though. She had to re-do it which just took longer and was somehow more embarrassing.\n\nThe fact that they still needed to go to school through all this was awful too. He had to wear the diaper underneath and his ability to go to the bathroom in time was hindered.\n\n“Seriously, Ron?!” Kim shouted at him one day. “You wet your diaper RIGHT before we go to school?!” Kim lambasted him while spanking his diapered butt one day. Ron just screamed and cried, wearing a face that illuminated just how much he could not believe this was happening.\n\n---\n\nMealtime wasn't better.\n\nKim had prepped the tray like a pro—spoon, bib, high chair (actually just a regular chair with a towel taped around Ron’s chest), and a cheerful playlist of lullabies playing in the background.\n\n“Here comes the airplane!” Kim said, holding a spoon full of green goo.\n\nRon stared at it, eyes narrowing. “Is that… peas?” Didn’t he literally warn her about this?!\n\n“Yep! Organic. Mashed. With a hint of carrot!”\n\n“I’m sixteen, Kim!”\n\n“You’re a baby this week,” she insisted, wiggling the spoon closer to his lips.\n\nRon crossed his arms. “Just once, I’d like to be fed pizza in a high chair.”\n\nBut it was too late. The spoon was in.\n\nHis face twisted. “Blegh! That tastes like sadness!”\n\nKim scribbled in her project logbook: Baby was fussy during feeding. Refused peas. Possibly allergic to vegetables?\n\n---\n\n“You want me to what?”\n\n“Just get in the tub,” Kim said, holding a bright yellow rubber duck and a bottle of baby shampoo. “I’ll be quick.”\n\nRon’s jaw dropped. “Kim. We go to school together.”\n\n“It’s just pretend!” she insisted. “I’ll look away the whole time!”\n\nRufus handed Ron a loofah shaped like a fish.\n\nRon buried his face in his hands. “This is worse than the time I got stuck in a vending machine in front of the pep rally–GAH!”\n\nSuddenly, Kim raised his nakie body up and while he squirmed she tossed him in. A huge splash happened. Ron sputtered and flailed before she grabbed the lufa and began scrubbing him down as fast as she could. “GAH! HURK! TOO FAST! TOO FAAAaaaUGH-!” Ron’s eyes crossed and he blushed when she scrubbed a little too low.\n\n“Sorry. My eyes are looking away. Just like I promised. See?”\n\nRon swayed a bit, feeling light-headed. Too much. Too embarrassing!\n\n---\n\nKim thought it would be a good idea to get “real world” practice and took Ron for a stroll around the neighborhood in an actual baby stroller she’d modified for his height. He was squished in it, arms and knees sticking out awkwardly, pacifier in his mouth only because he’d given up arguing.\n\nPeople stared.\n\nOne woman with a golden retriever tilted her head and whispered, “Is that your boyfriend?”\n\n“Baby brother,” Kim lied instantly. “Late growth spurt. It’s genetic.”\n\nRon gave her a thumbs up. “Appreciate the lie.”\n\n---\n\nBy the time the week reached the halfway point, Kim sat in her room surrounded by baby care books, a stack of diapers, a bottle warmer, and a pacifier wedged in her hair.\n\nShe rubbed her temples. “How do actual parents do this?”\n\nRon, now in a Cookie Monster hoodie and a Go Diego Go diaper with a pacifier around his neck sprawled across her beanbag chair. “They don’t assign a snarky teenager who knows all the swear words.”\n\nKim looked up. “So... you’re saying I might’ve gone a little overboard?”\n\nRon raised an eyebrow. “Kim. You tried to swaddle me in a towel burrito and roll me onto the couch.”\nShe sighed. “Okay, noted.”\n\nThere was a long pause.\n\n“Well,” Kim said, “if it’s any consolation, you’re the cutest baby I’ve ever diapered.”\n\nRon blushed cutely. “Don’t ever say that again.”\n\n---\n\nRon stood in the middle of Kim’s room back in his footsie pajamas, blinking at what had once been her yoga corner but had now been converted into a fully-assembled baby crib.\n\n\"Kim... where did you get this?\" he asked warily.\n\n“I borrowed it from the Middleton daycare center. Told them it was for an at-home study,” she said proudly, fluffing a blanket covered in cartoon ducks.\n\nHe leaned closer, squinting. “Is that a music box?”\n\nShe cranked the tiny key, and the soothing melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” filled the room. “Helps babies fall asleep! C’mon, give it a shot.”\n\nRon raised a finger. “One: this assignment never said anything about sleeping arrangements. Two: I have a perfectly normal bed. With sheets. And dignity.”\n\nKim just gently guided him in, tucked him under a fuzzy blanket, and patted his head.\n\n“I’ll be right here, if you need anything.”\n\nRon groaned dramatically and rolled over—but a few seconds later, the music box’s gentle tones lulled him into an unexpected, peaceful doze. He snored and drooled while sprawled out in a fairly undignified manner. It was so fast too.\n\nKim blinked. “Huh. Noted.”\n\n---\n\nBy day four, even Kim couldn’t pretend she had things under control. She sat slumped at her desk, dark circles under her eyes and juice stains on her shirt. The logbook was filled with scribbles like [i]‘Ron refused tummy time—claimed it was a government trap’[/i] and [i]‘Possible teething? Complained about snack choices again.’[/i]\n\nDesperate, she picked up her Kimmunicator.\n\n“Okay, fine,” she muttered, “I need backup.”\n\n---\n\nAn hour later, Ron blinked awake from a nap in the crib (again), rubbed his eyes, and immediately heard giggling.\n\nHe turned—and saw the Tweebs.\n\n“Hi Ron!” Tim chirped, adjusting a baby bonnet on his head.\n\n“Kim said we’re in charge today,” Jim added. “We made flashcards for your brain development.”\n\nRon sat up fast. “Wha—wait—NO. Absolutely not. You’re like two science gremlins!”\n\n“We made a bottle of chocolate milk!” Tim offered, shaking it proudly.\n\n“With fiber!” Jim added cheerfully.\n\nRon groaned, falling back into the crib. “I should’ve just taken the F on this project.”\n\nKim peeked in from the hallway with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be back by six! Try not to scar him too badly!”\n\nTim pulled out a rattle. “Who’s ready for cognitive stimulation?”\n\nRon threw a pillow over his face. “This is it. This is my villain origin story.”\n\nNo but really, how bad was this going to get? Well…\n\n---\n\nRon was already regretting everything.\n\nHe was sitting on the floor, legs spread out in front of him, surrounded by alphabet blocks, rattles, and an inflatable ring of bright plastic balls. Jim and Tim stood over him in matching “Junior Caretaker” aprons and those wide, devilish grins that only mischievous ten-year-olds could manage.\n\n“Okay, ‘wittle Wonnie’,” Jim said, checking a clipboard, “time for your developmental milestones test!”\n“That’s not a real thing,” Ron muttered.\n\nTim wagged a finger. “Not with that attitude!”\n\nBefore Ron could even stand up, Tim plopped a giant bib over his head that said “Messy Boi” in bubble letters, then strapped a pacifier to a headband and shoved it over his mouth.\n\n“Alright, time for feeding hour!” Jim announced gleefully.\n\n“You fed me an hour ago!” Ron protested, pacifier bouncing as he spoke.\n\n“Yeah, but babies eat constantly. Science,” Tim said, pulling out a jar of what looked like blended spaghetti. “Now open up the hangar bay, baby!”\n\nJim zoomed the spoon toward Ron’s face with full plane sound effects. “Vrrrrroooom! Incoming!”\nRon held his mouth shut tight, eyes pleading. “Do we have to do this?”\n\nThey both gasped in exaggerated horror. “Is the baby being fussy?” Tim asked, shaking his head with mock concern. “You know what happens to fussy babies…”\n\nRon’s eyes widened. “Wait, what does that mean—”\n\nWHAP! A powder puff to the face. They’d hit him with a handful of baby powder. He coughed heavily and was blind-sided by them flipping him over and yanking the back of his diaper down to expose his bare bum!\n\n\"AH! WAIT--!\" Ron screamed before WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! \n\nAnother spanking transpired, this time by these two laughing brats. The blushing teary face he had was especially delightful to witness.\n\n---\n\n“Okay, so it says here some babies resist the potty,” Jim said, pointing at a parenting blog pulled up on his tablet.\n\nTim nodded. “Yeah, so we gotta check his diaper.”\n\nRon froze. “Whoa, whoa—no checking, no diapers. I’m wearing sweatpants. Like a human.”\nThe twins circled him like hungry sharks.\n\n“That’s suspicious,” Tim said.\n\n“Definitely hiding a full pull-up,” Jim agreed.\n\nBefore Ron could react, they tackled him to the ground and pulled the waistband back with the expert coordination of two gremlins raiding Halloween candy.\n\n“False alarm!” Tim declared. “Clean. For now.”\n\nRon glared up at the ceiling. “Why me? What did I do in a past life?”\n\n“Failed the crawling test,” Jim said matter-of-factly.\n\n“Oh right,” Tim added. “Which means… spank time!”\n\nRon fidgeted as their shadows loomed over him again. Echoes of a loud scream and more loud WHAPS were heard from outside the house.\n\n---\n\nRon was on all fours, crawling across the hallway rug with a stuffed duck strapped to his back. The twins cheered like it was the Olympics.\n\n“Go baby go!” Tim clapped.\n\n“You’re just a few laps away from juice box time!” Jim shouted.\n\nRon grumbled under his breath as he crawled forward, red in the face. “I was student of the month once. I stopped a syntho-droid invasion. And now I’m pretending to crawl for juice.”\n\n“Oh!” Jim shouted. “Which reminds me!”\n\nThe next moment, a giant sippy cup with a curly straw and “Big Boy Ron” sticker was shoved into his hands.\n\nTim patted him on the head. “You’ve earned it, champ.”\n\nRon took a sip—and immediately gagged. “Is this—did you blend fruit snacks in milk?!”\n“It’s a Toddler Smoothie!” Jim beamed.\n\nRon flopped onto his back. “I might come down with some new disease because of this.”\n\"Not gonna finish you milk?\" Jim asked.\n\n\"What do YOU think?!\" Ron snapped.\n\n\"Aww. Fussy baby who won't eat. Welp, more spankies then~!\"\n\n\"WAIT! NO--!\"\n\nThe loud whap sounds echoed out to the neighborhood once again along with the elongated scream.\n\n---\n\nAfter an hour of forced crawling, finger painting, and a rousing round of “Patty-Cake Showdown” where the loser had to wear a bonnet (Ron lost, obviously), the twins decided it was nap time.\n\n“Babies need naps or they get cranky,” Tim said sagely.\n\n“You’ve been very cranky,” Jim added.\n\nRon was once again swaddled—this time in a rainbow fleece blanket shaped like a caterpillar and an exposed Baby Shark themed diaper—and gently laid back in the crib with the music box playing again.\n\nJim clipped a plush duckie to the side. “Sleep tight, Wonnie.”\n\n“Don’t let the diaper bugs bite!” Tim giggled as they dimmed the lights.\n\nRon laid there, exhausted, cheeks red, pacifier resting awkwardly on his chest.\n\nHe sighed and muttered, “If anyone from school finds out about this, I’m moving to another continent.”\n\n---\n\nKim stepped into the living room, holding a small paper bag labeled “Emergency Diaper Rash Cream.” She looked tired. And suspicious.\n\n“Okay, I left for one hour,” she muttered. “One. Hour.”\n\nHer eyes swept across the room.\n\nBlocks were scattered across the floor like someone had lost a Jenga match mid-tornado. Finger paint was smeared on the walls in the vague shape of a duck wearing sunglasses. The crib had been relocated into the center of the room like a throne. And there, lying in it, was Ron.\n\nHe blinked up at her with a dazed expression, pacifier lolling from his mouth, a plush duckie on his chest… and, most noticeably, a very unfortunate squelch sound when he shifted.\n\nKim paused. “...Oh no.”\n\n“Oh yes,” Ron groaned. “You left me… with them.”\n\nRight on cue, the Tweebs cartwheeled into view, both wearing sunglasses and high-fiving mid-air.\n“Mission accomplished!” they cheered.\n\n“Mission what?” Kim asked, eyes narrowing.\n\n“We successfully regressed him to full babyhood,” Tim grinned.\n\n“Check this out!” Jim yanked out a glitter-covered chart labeled “RON’S REGRESSION PROGRESS,” featuring bars like “Crawling Skillz,” “Pacifier Compliance,” and “Number of Diaper Changes (Failed).”\nKim pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. This has gone way off the rails.”\n\nRon slowly sat up. “Y’think?”\n\nThen came the squelch again.\n\nKim winced. “Okay, ew. First of all: bath, immediately. Second of all: new plan.”\n\nThe Tweebs blinked. “Wait, what?”\n\n“You two are clearly having too much fun. So guess what?” Kim pulled out three pacifiers from her bag like a magician pulling a bunny from a hat. “If I’m flunking this project, we’re all going down together.”\nShe pointed dramatically. “You’re all babies now!”\n\n---\n\nCut to five minutes later.\n\nRon sat on the couch, now freshly cleaned and dry, sipping from a juice box with a faint scowl. To his left were the Tweebs—each in onesies covered in rocket ships and dinosaurs and diapers on underneath, flopped over with matching bibs and rattles.\n\n“You serious right now?” Jim whined, trying to pull on his dinosaur footsies.\n\nKim gently tugged his hand back down. “Babies don’t argue.”\n\nTim reached for his communicator. “We’re telling Mom!”\n\n“No you’re not,” Kim said, casually flipping the Wi-Fi off. “Babies don’t use technology.”\n\nRon looked at her. “You realize this is completely unhinged, right?”\n\nKim sipped from her own juice pouch. “Ron, my fake baby pooped himself. I’m committed now.”\n\n“No I didn–oh wait. Yes, I did.” He blushed.\n\nThen she pulled out a baby gate and blocked off the living room.\n\n“You guys want out? You crawl. And share blocks. And nap at two.”\n\nThe Tweebs gawked. “Nap time?!”\n\nRon shook his head slowly. “You’ve gone mad with power.”\n\nKim smirked. “No. I’ve gone mom mode.”\n\nJust then, Rufus popped his head out of Ron’s pocket, looked at the chaos, and immediately retreated with a face that said, “Nope.”\n\n---\n\nLater, the camera pans out over the living room: Ron asleep with a duck blanket, Jim curled up in a kiddie pool full of stuffed animals, Tim napping upside down in a toy chest in a soaked diaper, and Kim calmly reading a parenting book titled “How to Babysit Without Losing Your Mind.”\n\nShe looked up.\n\n“Okay… so maybe I didn’t ace the project,” she admitted to herself. “But I definitely deserve some credit.”\n\nSuddenly, a buzzer went off on her phone. It was a message from the school.\n\n“PROJECT EXTENDED. DUE FRIDAY.”\n\nKim’s eye twitched.\n\nRon woke up slowly. “Kim? You okay?”\n\nShe smiled.\n\n“Ron, keep your diaper on tight. We’re doing this my way now.”\n\n---\n\n“Alright, babies,” Kim declared, hands on her hips, “if I’m gonna flunk this assignment, I’m going out in a blaze of educational glory.”\n\nThe camera panned over the living room, now fully transformed into a chaotic daycare wonderland. Soft pastel walls (Kim hung up themed shower curtains), oversized teddy bears, a mini-bouncy house in the corner, and a triple-decker changing table that definitely did not come from any normal store.\n\nRon was seated in an actual high chair far too small for him, mashed bananas smeared across his cheek. He glared down at his bib that read \"Mommy's Little Mission\" with crossed arms.\n\n“To think,” he grumbled, “there was a time I liked bananas…”\n\nBeside him, the Tweebs sat in matching high chairs. Jim was poking a spoon into his “Peas & Pineapple Surprise” while Tim tried (and failed) to catapult his own mush out the window using a spoon as a slingshot. It somehow bounced off the walls and smacked him in the face. He whimpered angrily.\n\nKim walked over to him with a smirk.\n\n“Nice try. That’s a time-out, Captain Pea-zooka.”\n\n---\n\nKim clapped her hands. “Alright, time for your developmental activities! We’re testing motor skills, balance, and your ability to listen to my voice without bursting into tears.”\n\nShe gestured to the backyard, now decked out like a toddler obstacle course: hula hoops, ball pits, a tunnel made of pool noodles, and at the end… a podium with a single golden pacifier.\n\n“Whoever wins gets...the Golden Binky. And diaper bragging rights.”\n\nRon stared at it, unamused. “Kim, I have never wanted anything less.”\n\nJim elbowed him. “That sounds like someone who’s gonna lose.”\n\n“YOU'RE WEARING A HELICOPTER BONNET!” Ron snapped.\n\n“Exactly! I’m aerodynamic!” Jim retorted.\n\nThe whistle blew.\n\nCue the music.\n\nRon tumbled face-first into the ball pit, flailing like he was sinking in quicksand. Tim tried to crawl through the noodle tunnel but ended up spinning in place like a corkscrew. Jim, true to his word, attempted flight—jumping off the baby slide and immediately landing in a wagon full of plushies.\n\nKim took notes like a serious scientist. “Very interesting. Subject 1 is showing signs of overconfidence. Subject 2 appears to be attempting a ninja roll. Subject 3 has achieved maximum noodle disorientation.”\n\n---\n\nLater that afternoon, Kim was ready for her “community exposure” portion of the project. Which, apparently, meant…\n\nA stroller walk around the neighborhood.\n\nRon’s jaw dropped. “You’re taking us OUTSIDE? AGAIN!?”\n\nKim snapped on his bonnet. “Babies need sunshine.”\n\n“But—but—THE NEIGHBORS—”\n\nJim and Tim were already in a double stroller arguing over who got to hold the rattle.\n“I want the monkey rattle!”\n\n“No, you had monkey, I get monkey! You get the keys!”\n\nRon, now in his own oversized stroller complete with cupholder and a flag that read “TEAM BINKY,” groaned as Kim began pushing them down the street.\n\nMrs. Jenkins from across the road waved. “Oh Kim! Babysitting again?”\n\nKim grinned. “Science project!”\n\nMrs. Jenkins waved back. “They’re… um… big for their age.”\n\nRon sank deeper into his seat. “Big for my age she says…”\n\n---\n\nKim needed diapers. More. So she wheeled her “babies” into Middleton Mall.\n\nRon covered his face. “You brought me to a public space in THIS?!”\n\nShe turned. “Do you want super-absorbent or extra-fluffy clouds?”\n\n“I want my dignity back!”\n\nKim held up a pack of “ThunderSnugz: Mega Baby Edition.”\n\n“Nope. You’re getting lightning bolts on your butt, buddy.”\n\nAt that exact moment, Bonnie walked by.\n\n“Oh my gosh, is that Ron Stoppable?”\n\nRon whimpered. “This is how I die.”\n\nKim beamed. “He’s thriving in his new environment!”\n\nBonnie took out her phone. “Smile, Diaper Dude.”\n\nRon dove behind a shelf of pacifiers.\n---\n\nBack at home, the three “babies” were passed out in a cuddle pile under a blanket shaped like a smiling sun.\n\nKim stood over them, hair a mess, juice on her shirt, but proud.\n\nShe held up her project journal.\n\n“Day Four: I’ve learned that childcare is chaotic, exhausting, and apparently involves an alarming amount of cartoon noises. I still don’t know how I’ll be graded, seeing as it feels like I’ve broken the laws of nature. I’ll log that under as a win.”\n\nShe looked at the boys. “And as for these three… if they ever talk back to me again, I’ve got feathers ready to put in their diapers for maximum tickle sensations, hidden under my bed.”\n\nCue Ron’s muffled sleep talk: “No more mashed peas… no more duckies… banana bad…”\n---\n\nMiddleton High was abuzz with whispers and chuckles. The class had been warned that Kim’s presentation might be a little \"unconventional,\" but no one was ready for this.\n\nThe door to the classroom burst open with a puff of confetti (Kim’s idea), and in rolled a bright pink triple stroller. Yes, a triple stroller—the kind you only see in cartoon parenting nightmares.\n\nIn it sat Ron, Jim, and Tim, each dressed in oversized pastel onesies complete with booties, bonnets, obvious diaper bulges with whiteness peaking through, and rattles. Their faces were redder than lava sauce, their eyes pleading silently with anyone who might grant mercy.\n\nRon’s onesie had a patch on the front that read “Lil’ Sidekick.” Jim’s said “Tickle Monster.” Tim’s was embroidered with “Burp Champion.”\n\nKim, unbothered and businesslike, wheeled them to the front of the room and pulled down a giant, glittery presentation board that read:\n\n“PROJECT: INFANTALYZED — A Hands-On Look at Developmental Regression and Caretaking.”\n\nShe clicked a remote. A slideshow began with a title card that played lullaby music and displayed clipart of teddy bears and pacifiers. The class stared in stunned silence.\n\n“Good morning!” Kim chirped. “For my parenting and childcare unit, I decided to go above and beyond. \nNot only did I simulate caring for a baby, I simulated three.”\n\nShe gestured grandly to the stroller.\n\n“These brave volunteers regressed into a state of infancy for four entire days. We tracked every aspect of the baby experience: nutrition, emotional regulation, bathroom behavior—”\n\nRon whimpered. “Please stop talking…”\n\nKim smiled brightly. “—And of course, the importance of routine, boundaries, and naptime!”\n\nSlide 2: A video clip. Ron crawling across the living room in a ducky diaper while Jim and Tim cheer.\n\nSlide 3: Tim stuck in a baby swing while Ron bottle-feeds him.\n\nSlide 4: A slow-motion clip of all three slipping in baby oil and falling into a wading pool labeled “Waddle \nTime Splash Zone.”\n\nThe classroom erupted in laughter. Phones were out. Bonnie was streaming it live.\n\n“OH MY GOSH,” she shrieked. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.”\n\nKim continued, pointing to a bar graph labeled “Fussiness vs. Diaper Load.”\n\n“As you can see, fussiness spiked right before each diaper incident. In fact, subject one—Ron—consistently reached peak grumpiness fifteen minutes before every confirmed change.”\n\nRon slumped in the stroller. “I didn’t sign up for a bar graph on my bladder.”\n\nKim leaned in. “Science, Ron.”\n\nThen came the climax.\n\n“Finally,” Kim announced, pressing a button, “here’s a reenactment of our bedtime routine.”\n\nThe lights dimmed. On screen, the three boys sat in cribs wearing fluffy footie pajamas. A music box played as they were tucked in by Kim, each given a plushie.\n\nRon’s plushie: A kitty in a onesie. Jim’s: A rocket with a binky sticker. Tim’s: A rubber chicken.\n\nThe class howled.\n\nWhen the lights came back on, Kim struck a pose. “In conclusion, my project demonstrates the challenges of parenting, the regression of independence under structured care, and the importance of humiliation-based discipline.”\n\nThe room gave a standing ovation.\n\nRon, Jim, and Tim sat frozen. They looked at the audience. Then at each other. Then at Kim, still holding up a plushie like a trophy.\n\nTheir eyes crossed in unison. Their jaws went slack. Comedic boing sounds played as their heads wobbled like wind-up dolls.\n\n“Buh…” Ron muttered. \n\n“Duh…” Jim added. \n\n“Guh…” Tim finished.\n\nAnd with one synchronized flop, all three fainted right out of the stroller and hit the ground with cartoonish bonk! and stars circling their heads.\n\nKim turned to the teacher. “So… A+?”\n\n---\n\nKim sat at her desk, anxiously tapping her pen. The grade was finally in her hands.\n\nShe looked down at the sheet. A giant, gleaming A+ stamped across the top, but there were some finer details beneath.\n\n“33% per baby,” she muttered to herself. “99% overall. Quantity over quality…”\n\nShe glanced over at Ron, Jim, and Tim, who were still recovering from their collective fainting episode, now sprawled across the floor like human pancakes.\n\n“Well,” Kim mused, “I guess I can’t say I didn’t work hard for this one.”\n\nMr. Barkin cleared his throat, giving the trio of diapered boys a confused look, squinting at the paperwork.\n\n“Uh, Kim,” he started, “I… I have to admit, you went above and beyond. What did you learn from this?”\n\nKim didn’t miss a beat. “That parenting is more about patience than anything. That and the fact that people do look cute in onesies, even if they’re my age. And especially if they’re wearing diapers.”\n\nMr. Barkin stifled a laugh. “Right. A life-lesson to take with you to the grave. One day. N-Not now. Don’t die yet. You’re too young.”\n\n“Yes, I get it Mr. Barkin.”\n\nAfter school ended, Kim found herself pushing the trio of human-sized babies back home in a giant stroller. Ron’s head lolled to one side as lazily leered up, his pacifier still dangling from his mouth. Jim and Tim were quieter than usual, staring blankly ahead.\n\nKim looked down at the three of them, a little guilty. “You guys really did put up with a lot for this project.”\n\nRon muttered, half-asleep. “You’re lucky I’m not asking for a refund.”\n\nKim pushed them all the way to her house and into the living room. She felt exhausted from the whole ordeal. The babies were not only humiliated, but they also looked like they’d never live this down.\n\n“Well,” Kim said to herself, flopping down on the couch, “I guess I need a break too.”\n\nHer eyes flicked to the music box sitting on the table. It was still playing a soft lullaby, a lingering reminder of what had worked so well on her subjects.\n\nKim got a playful idea and picked up the music box. She wound it and held it up. The soft tinkling sound filled the room.\n\nIn mere seconds, Ron, Jim, and Tim were once again peacefully asleep, their faces relaxed, their tiny snores filling the room. Kim smiled as she took a seat, watching them peacefully drift into dreamland.\n\nShe stroked Ron’s messy hair and sighed, “You know, maybe I’ll keep you guys like this. You’re just too cute when you’re all cuddled up.”\n\nShe tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I could use a few Cuddle Buddies. Imagine the possibilities… Maybe you three will just be my personal onesies-wearing cuddle crew from now on.”\n\nRon stirred and mumbled something incoherent, but the music kept him calm, the sound lulling him into further slumber.\n\nKim giggled to herself, watching the three of them, all tucked up and oblivious. She leaned back on the couch with a contented sigh, the final moments of her project fading into something far more \ncomfortable and surprisingly, permanent.\n\nTHE END.\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 #223
For Anonymous
---
It was a typical sunny day at Middleton High, the kind where there was enough time gone by without incident that something absolutely ridiculous was absolutely waiting to happen.
Kim Possible sat in the home economics class, tapping her pencil on her desk and trying not to doze off while Mr. Barkin went over the week’s lesson plan. But her ears perked up when he said two words that made half the class groan and the other half giggle:
“Flour Babies.”
“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Barkin growled, holding up a bag of flour like it was a sacred relic. “For the next week, you and a partner will be responsible for caring for your very own simulated infant. This project will teach you responsibility, maturity… and maybe, just maybe, why you shouldn’t rush into parenthood before you’ve finished Algebra.”
Why was this guy a catch-all substitute teacher? Truly, he missed his calling as a comedian.
Kim exchanged a glance with Ron Stoppable, her best friend-slash-sidekick-slash perpetual chaos magnet. Ron gave her a sheepish grin and shrugged. Rufus popped out of his pocket and gave a tired yawn, clearly unimpressed by the announcement.
“Aw man,” Ron mumbled, slumping in his chair. “Last time I babysat a real baby, it ended with me covered in pudding, spaghetti, and possibly glitter.”
“What do you mean, possibly glitter? You aren’t sure?” Kim arched a brow. “Wait, wasn’t that your cousin’s birthday party?”
“Yeah! Exactly!”
Mr. Barkin continued: “The flour bags are stored in the supply closet next to the gym. I’ll be assigning partners after lunch and then we’ll be distributing your little bundles of Pillsbury dough-joy.”
---
That’s when the gears in Ron’s head started turning.
You see, Ron Stoppable was a lot of things: loyal, clumsy, occasionally heroic... but above all else, he had a gift for making bad decisions when bored.
“So… what if…” he muttered to himself during lunch, peering down the hall toward the supply closet, “hypothetically... all the flour babies were gone before Barkin could pass them out?”
Rufus gave him a dubious squeak.
“Think about it!” Ron whispered. “No flour babies, no partner project, no awkwardness if I get paired with Bonnie again!”
And so, Operation: Flour-No-More commenced.
Nobody really knows how Ron pulled it off, but by the time sixth period rolled around, every single bag of flour had mysteriously exploded inside the supply closet. The janitor was still trying to wade through what looked like a bakery explosion while Barkin stood in stunned silence, holding a clipboard and trembling with rage.
“WHO… DID… THIS?!”
Dead silence.
Not a soul spoke up. Not even Ron. Especially not Ron.
After a long, fuming pause, Mr. Barkin’s eyes narrowed.
“Well. Looks like we’re going old school.”
He jabbed a finger at the class.
“No flour? Fine. YOU’LL be the babies!”
The class gasped.
“You will be paired off as usual, but one of you will be assigned the role of parent... and the other... will be the baby. Diapers. Bottles. Bibs. The whole nine yards.”
Ron’s face paled in a way that shined a spot-light on his cascading uneasiness.
Kim slowly turned to him, brow arched high. “Ron. You didn’t…”
He gulped. “...Define didn’t.”
And just like that… Middleton High’s most bizarre weekend project began.
---
The final bell rang, releasing a flood of students into the hallways like a dam had burst. Kim Possible adjusted her backpack and started heading for the exit, only for Ron to stumble up beside her, still looking shell-shocked from Mr. Barkin’s announcement.
“So,” Kim said, keeping her tone casual but her smile teasing, “guess who just got assigned a brand-new baby?”
Ron sighed, dragging his feet. “I’m afraid to ask.”
She held up her slip of paper like it was a golden ticket. “Yup. I got you.”
Ron groaned. “Of course you did. Because the universe loves irony, and Barkin probably pulled names out of a hat too. It would have taken too much effort for him to rig it.”
Rufus popped his head out of Ron’s shirt collar and gave a giggle-snort. “Baaaby!”
“Et tu, Rufus?!”
Kim chuckled, tucking the paper into her bag as they walked out the front doors into the spring afternoon. The sun was bright, birds chirping, and somewhere a lawnmower buzzed lazily — the kind of day that felt totally not like a great time to be enrolled in a public humiliation project.
“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Kim said lightly as they strolled toward the parking lot. “I’ve babysat for real babies. This should be easy. You just have to act the part and let me do the heavy lifting.”
Ron blinked. “Wait, act the part?”
“Yeah,” Kim said, completely straight-faced. “We’re supposed to treat the project like the baby’s a real baby, right? So you’ll crawl, wear the little outfits, and I’ll change your—”
She didn’t finish the sentence, because Ron had stopped walking and was staring at her in horror.
“Please, please tell me you don’t mean diapers.”
Kim paused. “Ron, we’re supposed to fully commit. It’s for a grade. Mr. Barkin said ‘bottles and diapers’ weren’t optional. He even made that weird growl noise.”
“That’s his everything noise!”
Kim shrugged. “I just think of it like babysitting the neighborhood kids. You know, routines, feeding times, naps... except, you’ll actually tell me what flavor juice you want.”
Ron was looking more and more like a man walking toward the gallows. “I just thought I’d, like, wear a bib, maybe pretend to burp once or twice. I didn’t realize we were going method.”
Kim tried not to smile, but it was impossible. “Come on, you’ve played weirder roles on missions before. Remember that time you had to pretend to be a circus poodle?”
“That was different! That was life or death! This is just... dignity death!”
They reached Kim’s car, and she opened the door before turning to look at him more seriously. “Look, I know it sounds humiliating—okay, it is humiliating—but hey, you and me? We’ve faced mutant gerbils, banana-based doomsday devices, and Drakken’s rapping phase. We can survive this.”
Ron exhaled deeply, flopping into the passenger seat. “Fine. I’ll be the baby. But I swear, if you try to feed me mashed peas, I will literally bite the hand that feeds.”
Kim just laughed and patted his head like a proud mom. “Aw, don’t worry, baby. Mommy’s got this all under control.”
---
She did not have this under control.
Kim Possible had saved the world from evil masterminds, stopped giant robots with nothing but a lipstick laser, and passed every math test since sixth grade… but by day two of the baby project, she was learning a painful truth:
Teenagers are not the same as toddlers.
---
First, there was the initial spanking incident, of which there would be many.
Ron was on the couch, fidgeting in a pair of cartoonishly oversized footie pajamas Kim had dug out of some forgotten costume trunk from cheer practice. The fuzzy onesie had little rocket ships on it and was about two sizes too small, clinging to his limbs like a pastel prison. Underneath was a diaper that bulked out enough to emphasize that he was definitely wearing one underneath.
Kim was reading from the project guidelines. “It says here that discipline is important to baby development…”
Ron froze. “Uh… KP?”
She nodded solemnly. “So if you’re misbehaving—”
“KP, I literally just sneezed!”
She set the book down. “It was a very loud sneeze.”
Before he could protest, she flipped him over her lap like it was a training simulation, and WHAP! Gave him a firm pat on the backside.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
“AH! This isn’t right!” Ron yelled.
“Oh… you know what? You’re right.” Kim nodded.
She shuffled down the flap of his pajamas and the diaper underneath and continued the spanking on his bare bottom instead! There, much better!
“AAAAAAH!” Ron screamed, tears flinging from his eyes as Rufus laughed in the distance. She just kept at it though.
Ron yelped and flailed, eyes wide. “Okay! Ow! What lesson are we learning here?!”
Kim blinked. “...That sneezing is rude?”
They both paused.
“Okay, maybe I’m not nailing this yet,” she admitted, helping him up.
“Maybe?!”
---
Later that day, Kim realized she had forgotten something crucial when she came downstairs and sniffed the air suspiciously.
“Wait. Ron, did you…?” She sniffed again. “Did you actually use the diaper?!”
Ron was lying on a beanbag chair in the living room, playing a handheld game with an expression of pure boredom. “You forgot to let me out to pee,” he said flatly. “We’ve been ‘playing naptime’ for two hours. I was trapped.”
Kim blinked. “Oh my gosh. I forgot about bathroom breaks.”
Rufus waddled over with a clothespin on his nose and dove behind the couch with a dramatic moan.
Kim sighed. “Okay, diaper change time—”
“Nope. No. Absolutely not. That’s where I draw the line.”
“But I’m the mom!”
“You’re not a licensed mom!”
“Ugh! Let me just–!” She pushed him down and Ron flopped there with his limbs out.
“AUGH! Oh COME ON!” He blushed, feeling the embarrassment collide with him as he was finally changed. He must not have been too impressive down there because Kim said nothing about his little peen.
Somehow the diaper ended up on him backwards though. She had to re-do it which just took longer and was somehow more embarrassing.
The fact that they still needed to go to school through all this was awful too. He had to wear the diaper underneath and his ability to go to the bathroom in time was hindered.
“Seriously, Ron?!” Kim shouted at him one day. “You wet your diaper RIGHT before we go to school?!” Kim lambasted him while spanking his diapered butt one day. Ron just screamed and cried, wearing a face that illuminated just how much he could not believe this was happening.
---
Mealtime wasn't better.
Kim had prepped the tray like a pro—spoon, bib, high chair (actually just a regular chair with a towel taped around Ron’s chest), and a cheerful playlist of lullabies playing in the background.
“Here comes the airplane!” Kim said, holding a spoon full of green goo.
Ron stared at it, eyes narrowing. “Is that… peas?” Didn’t he literally warn her about this?!
“Yep! Organic. Mashed. With a hint of carrot!”
“I’m sixteen, Kim!”
“You’re a baby this week,” she insisted, wiggling the spoon closer to his lips.
Ron crossed his arms. “Just once, I’d like to be fed pizza in a high chair.”
But it was too late. The spoon was in.
His face twisted. “Blegh! That tastes like sadness!”
Kim scribbled in her project logbook: Baby was fussy during feeding. Refused peas. Possibly allergic to vegetables?
---
“You want me to what?”
“Just get in the tub,” Kim said, holding a bright yellow rubber duck and a bottle of baby shampoo. “I’ll be quick.”
Ron’s jaw dropped. “Kim. We go to school together.”
“It’s just pretend!” she insisted. “I’ll look away the whole time!”
Rufus handed Ron a loofah shaped like a fish.
Ron buried his face in his hands. “This is worse than the time I got stuck in a vending machine in front of the pep rally–GAH!”
Suddenly, Kim raised his nakie body up and while he squirmed she tossed him in. A huge splash happened. Ron sputtered and flailed before she grabbed the lufa and began scrubbing him down as fast as she could. “GAH! HURK! TOO FAST! TOO FAAAaaaUGH-!” Ron’s eyes crossed and he blushed when she scrubbed a little too low.
“Sorry. My eyes are looking away. Just like I promised. See?”
Ron swayed a bit, feeling light-headed. Too much. Too embarrassing!
---
Kim thought it would be a good idea to get “real world” practice and took Ron for a stroll around the neighborhood in an actual baby stroller she’d modified for his height. He was squished in it, arms and knees sticking out awkwardly, pacifier in his mouth only because he’d given up arguing.
People stared.
One woman with a golden retriever tilted her head and whispered, “Is that your boyfriend?”
“Baby brother,” Kim lied instantly. “Late growth spurt. It’s genetic.”
Ron gave her a thumbs up. “Appreciate the lie.”
---
By the time the week reached the halfway point, Kim sat in her room surrounded by baby care books, a stack of diapers, a bottle warmer, and a pacifier wedged in her hair.
She rubbed her temples. “How do actual parents do this?”
Ron, now in a Cookie Monster hoodie and a Go Diego Go diaper with a pacifier around his neck sprawled across her beanbag chair. “They don’t assign a snarky teenager who knows all the swear words.”
Kim looked up. “So... you’re saying I might’ve gone a little overboard?”
Ron raised an eyebrow. “Kim. You tried to swaddle me in a towel burrito and roll me onto the couch.”
She sighed. “Okay, noted.”
There was a long pause.
“Well,” Kim said, “if it’s any consolation, you’re the cutest baby I’ve ever diapered.”
Ron blushed cutely. “Don’t ever say that again.”
---
Ron stood in the middle of Kim’s room back in his footsie pajamas, blinking at what had once been her yoga corner but had now been converted into a fully-assembled baby crib.
"Kim... where did you get this?" he asked warily.
“I borrowed it from the Middleton daycare center. Told them it was for an at-home study,” she said proudly, fluffing a blanket covered in cartoon ducks.
He leaned closer, squinting. “Is that a music box?”
She cranked the tiny key, and the soothing melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” filled the room. “Helps babies fall asleep! C’mon, give it a shot.”
Ron raised a finger. “One: this assignment never said anything about sleeping arrangements. Two: I have a perfectly normal bed. With sheets. And dignity.”
Kim just gently guided him in, tucked him under a fuzzy blanket, and patted his head.
“I’ll be right here, if you need anything.”
Ron groaned dramatically and rolled over—but a few seconds later, the music box’s gentle tones lulled him into an unexpected, peaceful doze. He snored and drooled while sprawled out in a fairly undignified manner. It was so fast too.
Kim blinked. “Huh. Noted.”
---
By day four, even Kim couldn’t pretend she had things under control. She sat slumped at her desk, dark circles under her eyes and juice stains on her shirt. The logbook was filled with scribbles like ‘Ron refused tummy time—claimed it was a government trap’ and ‘Possible teething? Complained about snack choices again.’
Desperate, she picked up her Kimmunicator.
“Okay, fine,” she muttered, “I need backup.”
---
An hour later, Ron blinked awake from a nap in the crib (again), rubbed his eyes, and immediately heard giggling.
He turned—and saw the Tweebs.
“Hi Ron!” Tim chirped, adjusting a baby bonnet on his head.
“Kim said we’re in charge today,” Jim added. “We made flashcards for your brain development.”
Ron sat up fast. “Wha—wait—NO. Absolutely not. You’re like two science gremlins!”
“We made a bottle of chocolate milk!” Tim offered, shaking it proudly.
“With fiber!” Jim added cheerfully.
Ron groaned, falling back into the crib. “I should’ve just taken the F on this project.”
Kim peeked in from the hallway with an apologetic smile. “I’ll be back by six! Try not to scar him too badly!”
Tim pulled out a rattle. “Who’s ready for cognitive stimulation?”
Ron threw a pillow over his face. “This is it. This is my villain origin story.”
No but really, how bad was this going to get? Well…
---
Ron was already regretting everything.
He was sitting on the floor, legs spread out in front of him, surrounded by alphabet blocks, rattles, and an inflatable ring of bright plastic balls. Jim and Tim stood over him in matching “Junior Caretaker” aprons and those wide, devilish grins that only mischievous ten-year-olds could manage.
“Okay, ‘wittle Wonnie’,” Jim said, checking a clipboard, “time for your developmental milestones test!”
“That’s not a real thing,” Ron muttered.
Tim wagged a finger. “Not with that attitude!”
Before Ron could even stand up, Tim plopped a giant bib over his head that said “Messy Boi” in bubble letters, then strapped a pacifier to a headband and shoved it over his mouth.
“Alright, time for feeding hour!” Jim announced gleefully.
“You fed me an hour ago!” Ron protested, pacifier bouncing as he spoke.
“Yeah, but babies eat constantly. Science,” Tim said, pulling out a jar of what looked like blended spaghetti. “Now open up the hangar bay, baby!”
Jim zoomed the spoon toward Ron’s face with full plane sound effects. “Vrrrrroooom! Incoming!”
Ron held his mouth shut tight, eyes pleading. “Do we have to do this?”
They both gasped in exaggerated horror. “Is the baby being fussy?” Tim asked, shaking his head with mock concern. “You know what happens to fussy babies…”
Ron’s eyes widened. “Wait, what does that mean—”
WHAP! A powder puff to the face. They’d hit him with a handful of baby powder. He coughed heavily and was blind-sided by them flipping him over and yanking the back of his diaper down to expose his bare bum!
"AH! WAIT--!" Ron screamed before WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
Another spanking transpired, this time by these two laughing brats. The blushing teary face he had was especially delightful to witness.
---
“Okay, so it says here some babies resist the potty,” Jim said, pointing at a parenting blog pulled up on his tablet.
Tim nodded. “Yeah, so we gotta check his diaper.”
Ron froze. “Whoa, whoa—no checking, no diapers. I’m wearing sweatpants. Like a human.”
The twins circled him like hungry sharks.
“That’s suspicious,” Tim said.
“Definitely hiding a full pull-up,” Jim agreed.
Before Ron could react, they tackled him to the ground and pulled the waistband back with the expert coordination of two gremlins raiding Halloween candy.
“False alarm!” Tim declared. “Clean. For now.”
Ron glared up at the ceiling. “Why me? What did I do in a past life?”
“Failed the crawling test,” Jim said matter-of-factly.
“Oh right,” Tim added. “Which means… spank time!”
Ron fidgeted as their shadows loomed over him again. Echoes of a loud scream and more loud WHAPS were heard from outside the house.
---
Ron was on all fours, crawling across the hallway rug with a stuffed duck strapped to his back. The twins cheered like it was the Olympics.
“Go baby go!” Tim clapped.
“You’re just a few laps away from juice box time!” Jim shouted.
Ron grumbled under his breath as he crawled forward, red in the face. “I was student of the month once. I stopped a syntho-droid invasion. And now I’m pretending to crawl for juice.”
“Oh!” Jim shouted. “Which reminds me!”
The next moment, a giant sippy cup with a curly straw and “Big Boy Ron” sticker was shoved into his hands.
Tim patted him on the head. “You’ve earned it, champ.”
Ron took a sip—and immediately gagged. “Is this—did you blend fruit snacks in milk?!”
“It’s a Toddler Smoothie!” Jim beamed.
Ron flopped onto his back. “I might come down with some new disease because of this.”
"Not gonna finish you milk?" Jim asked.
"What do YOU think?!" Ron snapped.
"Aww. Fussy baby who won't eat. Welp, more spankies then~!"
"WAIT! NO--!"
The loud whap sounds echoed out to the neighborhood once again along with the elongated scream.
---
After an hour of forced crawling, finger painting, and a rousing round of “Patty-Cake Showdown” where the loser had to wear a bonnet (Ron lost, obviously), the twins decided it was nap time.
“Babies need naps or they get cranky,” Tim said sagely.
“You’ve been very cranky,” Jim added.
Ron was once again swaddled—this time in a rainbow fleece blanket shaped like a caterpillar and an exposed Baby Shark themed diaper—and gently laid back in the crib with the music box playing again.
Jim clipped a plush duckie to the side. “Sleep tight, Wonnie.”
“Don’t let the diaper bugs bite!” Tim giggled as they dimmed the lights.
Ron laid there, exhausted, cheeks red, pacifier resting awkwardly on his chest.
He sighed and muttered, “If anyone from school finds out about this, I’m moving to another continent.”
---
Kim stepped into the living room, holding a small paper bag labeled “Emergency Diaper Rash Cream.” She looked tired. And suspicious.
“Okay, I left for one hour,” she muttered. “One. Hour.”
Her eyes swept across the room.
Blocks were scattered across the floor like someone had lost a Jenga match mid-tornado. Finger paint was smeared on the walls in the vague shape of a duck wearing sunglasses. The crib had been relocated into the center of the room like a throne. And there, lying in it, was Ron.
He blinked up at her with a dazed expression, pacifier lolling from his mouth, a plush duckie on his chest… and, most noticeably, a very unfortunate squelch sound when he shifted.
Kim paused. “...Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” Ron groaned. “You left me… with them.”
Right on cue, the Tweebs cartwheeled into view, both wearing sunglasses and high-fiving mid-air.
“Mission accomplished!” they cheered.
“Mission what?” Kim asked, eyes narrowing.
“We successfully regressed him to full babyhood,” Tim grinned.
“Check this out!” Jim yanked out a glitter-covered chart labeled “RON’S REGRESSION PROGRESS,” featuring bars like “Crawling Skillz,” “Pacifier Compliance,” and “Number of Diaper Changes (Failed).”
Kim pinched the bridge of her nose. “Okay. This has gone way off the rails.”
Ron slowly sat up. “Y’think?”
Then came the squelch again.
Kim winced. “Okay, ew. First of all: bath, immediately. Second of all: new plan.”
The Tweebs blinked. “Wait, what?”
“You two are clearly having too much fun. So guess what?” Kim pulled out three pacifiers from her bag like a magician pulling a bunny from a hat. “If I’m flunking this project, we’re all going down together.”
She pointed dramatically. “You’re all babies now!”
---
Cut to five minutes later.
Ron sat on the couch, now freshly cleaned and dry, sipping from a juice box with a faint scowl. To his left were the Tweebs—each in onesies covered in rocket ships and dinosaurs and diapers on underneath, flopped over with matching bibs and rattles.
“You serious right now?” Jim whined, trying to pull on his dinosaur footsies.
Kim gently tugged his hand back down. “Babies don’t argue.”
Tim reached for his communicator. “We’re telling Mom!”
“No you’re not,” Kim said, casually flipping the Wi-Fi off. “Babies don’t use technology.”
Ron looked at her. “You realize this is completely unhinged, right?”
Kim sipped from her own juice pouch. “Ron, my fake baby pooped himself. I’m committed now.”
“No I didn–oh wait. Yes, I did.” He blushed.
Then she pulled out a baby gate and blocked off the living room.
“You guys want out? You crawl. And share blocks. And nap at two.”
The Tweebs gawked. “Nap time?!”
Ron shook his head slowly. “You’ve gone mad with power.”
Kim smirked. “No. I’ve gone mom mode.”
Just then, Rufus popped his head out of Ron’s pocket, looked at the chaos, and immediately retreated with a face that said, “Nope.”
---
Later, the camera pans out over the living room: Ron asleep with a duck blanket, Jim curled up in a kiddie pool full of stuffed animals, Tim napping upside down in a toy chest in a soaked diaper, and Kim calmly reading a parenting book titled “How to Babysit Without Losing Your Mind.”
She looked up.
“Okay… so maybe I didn’t ace the project,” she admitted to herself. “But I definitely deserve some credit.”
Suddenly, a buzzer went off on her phone. It was a message from the school.
“PROJECT EXTENDED. DUE FRIDAY.”
Kim’s eye twitched.
Ron woke up slowly. “Kim? You okay?”
She smiled.
“Ron, keep your diaper on tight. We’re doing this my way now.”
---
“Alright, babies,” Kim declared, hands on her hips, “if I’m gonna flunk this assignment, I’m going out in a blaze of educational glory.”
The camera panned over the living room, now fully transformed into a chaotic daycare wonderland. Soft pastel walls (Kim hung up themed shower curtains), oversized teddy bears, a mini-bouncy house in the corner, and a triple-decker changing table that definitely did not come from any normal store.
Ron was seated in an actual high chair far too small for him, mashed bananas smeared across his cheek. He glared down at his bib that read "Mommy's Little Mission" with crossed arms.
“To think,” he grumbled, “there was a time I liked bananas…”
Beside him, the Tweebs sat in matching high chairs. Jim was poking a spoon into his “Peas & Pineapple Surprise” while Tim tried (and failed) to catapult his own mush out the window using a spoon as a slingshot. It somehow bounced off the walls and smacked him in the face. He whimpered angrily.
Kim walked over to him with a smirk.
“Nice try. That’s a time-out, Captain Pea-zooka.”
---
Kim clapped her hands. “Alright, time for your developmental activities! We’re testing motor skills, balance, and your ability to listen to my voice without bursting into tears.”
She gestured to the backyard, now decked out like a toddler obstacle course: hula hoops, ball pits, a tunnel made of pool noodles, and at the end… a podium with a single golden pacifier.
“Whoever wins gets...the Golden Binky. And diaper bragging rights.”
Ron stared at it, unamused. “Kim, I have never wanted anything less.”
Jim elbowed him. “That sounds like someone who’s gonna lose.”
“YOU'RE WEARING A HELICOPTER BONNET!” Ron snapped.
“Exactly! I’m aerodynamic!” Jim retorted.
The whistle blew.
Cue the music.
Ron tumbled face-first into the ball pit, flailing like he was sinking in quicksand. Tim tried to crawl through the noodle tunnel but ended up spinning in place like a corkscrew. Jim, true to his word, attempted flight—jumping off the baby slide and immediately landing in a wagon full of plushies.
Kim took notes like a serious scientist. “Very interesting. Subject 1 is showing signs of overconfidence. Subject 2 appears to be attempting a ninja roll. Subject 3 has achieved maximum noodle disorientation.”
---
Later that afternoon, Kim was ready for her “community exposure” portion of the project. Which, apparently, meant…
A stroller walk around the neighborhood.
Ron’s jaw dropped. “You’re taking us OUTSIDE? AGAIN!?”
Kim snapped on his bonnet. “Babies need sunshine.”
“But—but—THE NEIGHBORS—”
Jim and Tim were already in a double stroller arguing over who got to hold the rattle.
“I want the monkey rattle!”
“No, you had monkey, I get monkey! You get the keys!”
Ron, now in his own oversized stroller complete with cupholder and a flag that read “TEAM BINKY,” groaned as Kim began pushing them down the street.
Mrs. Jenkins from across the road waved. “Oh Kim! Babysitting again?”
Kim grinned. “Science project!”
Mrs. Jenkins waved back. “They’re… um… big for their age.”
Ron sank deeper into his seat. “Big for my age she says…”
---
Kim needed diapers. More. So she wheeled her “babies” into Middleton Mall.
Ron covered his face. “You brought me to a public space in THIS?!”
She turned. “Do you want super-absorbent or extra-fluffy clouds?”
“I want my dignity back!”
Kim held up a pack of “ThunderSnugz: Mega Baby Edition.”
“Nope. You’re getting lightning bolts on your butt, buddy.”
At that exact moment, Bonnie walked by.
“Oh my gosh, is that Ron Stoppable?”
Ron whimpered. “This is how I die.”
Kim beamed. “He’s thriving in his new environment!”
Bonnie took out her phone. “Smile, Diaper Dude.”
Ron dove behind a shelf of pacifiers.
---
Back at home, the three “babies” were passed out in a cuddle pile under a blanket shaped like a smiling sun.
Kim stood over them, hair a mess, juice on her shirt, but proud.
She held up her project journal.
“Day Four: I’ve learned that childcare is chaotic, exhausting, and apparently involves an alarming amount of cartoon noises. I still don’t know how I’ll be graded, seeing as it feels like I’ve broken the laws of nature. I’ll log that under as a win.”
She looked at the boys. “And as for these three… if they ever talk back to me again, I’ve got feathers ready to put in their diapers for maximum tickle sensations, hidden under my bed.”
Cue Ron’s muffled sleep talk: “No more mashed peas… no more duckies… banana bad…”
---
Middleton High was abuzz with whispers and chuckles. The class had been warned that Kim’s presentation might be a little "unconventional," but no one was ready for this.
The door to the classroom burst open with a puff of confetti (Kim’s idea), and in rolled a bright pink triple stroller. Yes, a triple stroller—the kind you only see in cartoon parenting nightmares.
In it sat Ron, Jim, and Tim, each dressed in oversized pastel onesies complete with booties, bonnets, obvious diaper bulges with whiteness peaking through, and rattles. Their faces were redder than lava sauce, their eyes pleading silently with anyone who might grant mercy.
Ron’s onesie had a patch on the front that read “Lil’ Sidekick.” Jim’s said “Tickle Monster.” Tim’s was embroidered with “Burp Champion.”
Kim, unbothered and businesslike, wheeled them to the front of the room and pulled down a giant, glittery presentation board that read:
“PROJECT: INFANTALYZED — A Hands-On Look at Developmental Regression and Caretaking.”
She clicked a remote. A slideshow began with a title card that played lullaby music and displayed clipart of teddy bears and pacifiers. The class stared in stunned silence.
“Good morning!” Kim chirped. “For my parenting and childcare unit, I decided to go above and beyond.
Not only did I simulate caring for a baby, I simulated three.”
She gestured grandly to the stroller.
“These brave volunteers regressed into a state of infancy for four entire days. We tracked every aspect of the baby experience: nutrition, emotional regulation, bathroom behavior—”
Ron whimpered. “Please stop talking…”
Kim smiled brightly. “—And of course, the importance of routine, boundaries, and naptime!”
Slide 2: A video clip. Ron crawling across the living room in a ducky diaper while Jim and Tim cheer.
Slide 3: Tim stuck in a baby swing while Ron bottle-feeds him.
Slide 4: A slow-motion clip of all three slipping in baby oil and falling into a wading pool labeled “Waddle
Time Splash Zone.”
The classroom erupted in laughter. Phones were out. Bonnie was streaming it live.
“OH MY GOSH,” she shrieked. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE.”
Kim continued, pointing to a bar graph labeled “Fussiness vs. Diaper Load.”
“As you can see, fussiness spiked right before each diaper incident. In fact, subject one—Ron—consistently reached peak grumpiness fifteen minutes before every confirmed change.”
Ron slumped in the stroller. “I didn’t sign up for a bar graph on my bladder.”
Kim leaned in. “Science, Ron.”
Then came the climax.
“Finally,” Kim announced, pressing a button, “here’s a reenactment of our bedtime routine.”
The lights dimmed. On screen, the three boys sat in cribs wearing fluffy footie pajamas. A music box played as they were tucked in by Kim, each given a plushie.
Ron’s plushie: A kitty in a onesie. Jim’s: A rocket with a binky sticker. Tim’s: A rubber chicken.
The class howled.
When the lights came back on, Kim struck a pose. “In conclusion, my project demonstrates the challenges of parenting, the regression of independence under structured care, and the importance of humiliation-based discipline.”
The room gave a standing ovation.
Ron, Jim, and Tim sat frozen. They looked at the audience. Then at each other. Then at Kim, still holding up a plushie like a trophy.
Their eyes crossed in unison. Their jaws went slack. Comedic boing sounds played as their heads wobbled like wind-up dolls.
“Buh…” Ron muttered.
“Duh…” Jim added.
“Guh…” Tim finished.
And with one synchronized flop, all three fainted right out of the stroller and hit the ground with cartoonish bonk! and stars circling their heads.
Kim turned to the teacher. “So… A+?”
---
Kim sat at her desk, anxiously tapping her pen. The grade was finally in her hands.
She looked down at the sheet. A giant, gleaming A+ stamped across the top, but there were some finer details beneath.
“33% per baby,” she muttered to herself. “99% overall. Quantity over quality…”
She glanced over at Ron, Jim, and Tim, who were still recovering from their collective fainting episode, now sprawled across the floor like human pancakes.
“Well,” Kim mused, “I guess I can’t say I didn’t work hard for this one.”
Mr. Barkin cleared his throat, giving the trio of diapered boys a confused look, squinting at the paperwork.
“Uh, Kim,” he started, “I… I have to admit, you went above and beyond. What did you learn from this?”
Kim didn’t miss a beat. “That parenting is more about patience than anything. That and the fact that people do look cute in onesies, even if they’re my age. And especially if they’re wearing diapers.”
Mr. Barkin stifled a laugh. “Right. A life-lesson to take with you to the grave. One day. N-Not now. Don’t die yet. You’re too young.”
“Yes, I get it Mr. Barkin.”
After school ended, Kim found herself pushing the trio of human-sized babies back home in a giant stroller. Ron’s head lolled to one side as lazily leered up, his pacifier still dangling from his mouth. Jim and Tim were quieter than usual, staring blankly ahead.
Kim looked down at the three of them, a little guilty. “You guys really did put up with a lot for this project.”
Ron muttered, half-asleep. “You’re lucky I’m not asking for a refund.”
Kim pushed them all the way to her house and into the living room. She felt exhausted from the whole ordeal. The babies were not only humiliated, but they also looked like they’d never live this down.
“Well,” Kim said to herself, flopping down on the couch, “I guess I need a break too.”
Her eyes flicked to the music box sitting on the table. It was still playing a soft lullaby, a lingering reminder of what had worked so well on her subjects.
Kim got a playful idea and picked up the music box. She wound it and held it up. The soft tinkling sound filled the room.
In mere seconds, Ron, Jim, and Tim were once again peacefully asleep, their faces relaxed, their tiny snores filling the room. Kim smiled as she took a seat, watching them peacefully drift into dreamland.
She stroked Ron’s messy hair and sighed, “You know, maybe I’ll keep you guys like this. You’re just too cute when you’re all cuddled up.”
She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “I could use a few Cuddle Buddies. Imagine the possibilities… Maybe you three will just be my personal onesies-wearing cuddle crew from now on.”
Ron stirred and mumbled something incoherent, but the music kept him calm, the sound lulling him into further slumber.
Kim giggled to herself, watching the three of them, all tucked up and oblivious. She leaned back on the couch with a contented sigh, the final moments of her project fading into something far more
comfortable and surprisingly, permanent.
THE END.
---
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