A large pickup truck rolled down a verdant suburban street. As it was school day afternoon, the streets were empty of children playing and homeowners doing various yardwork. The truck soon stopped in front of a large-two story house. The man opened the rear door to reveal a baby carrier securely strapped into the back seat. Secured in the baby carrier was an orange Compsognathus wearing a silver chain collar with a tag and a diaper. The Compy had been buckled in so that it was a reclining position on its back with its tail pointing forward through the straps. The Compy put the paper it had been reading aside.
``Yeah, looks like this woman's got some mice problems and she wants them removed quick. The usual, John?'' the Compy said. He wriggled slightly, making the diaper he was wearing rustle slightly. He unbuckled himself and quickly hopped down from the pickup truck's back seat.
``Before we get moving, do you need to change your diaper?'' John asked, kneeling down to his height.
The Compy hissed and turned away as he tried in vain to cover his (rather childishly patterned) diaper with his tail. ``Not in public!''
John chuckled. ``Oh come on! It's not like you're the only Mesozoican with continence issues!''
The Compy sighed and ran a clawed hand down his face. ``I'm probably the only Mesozoican whose partner asks them if they need a diaper change,'' he muttered. He looked at John. The Human wasn't particularly tall by Human standards but yet, he only came up to the man's knee.
John gently petted his partner. ``Just fucking with you Earthsting! Anyways, I'll set the poisons; you can go into the crawl spaces and clean them out.''
``Okay.'' Earthsting shook his head as he recalled how he got his nickname - he had had accidentally shot his partner with his pest control gun. As Mesozoican names were rather difficult for Humans to pronounce owing to the large amounts of hard consonants and guttural tones, most of them went by descriptive nicknames (Earthsting's Mesozoican name was Krckactan).
He waited as John got out the tools that they would use to exterminate the rats and mice. He sniffed the air and flinched slightly as he realized he was standing atop a spot where a dog had just defecated a few days ago. The theropod tried to reassure himself that it was only the odor and he wasn't actually standing in dog mess but his predator's sense of smell made that nearly impossible. He looked up as John placed the tool box on the ground and opened it.
``Let's see what we got in here...'' Earthsting peered inside the tool box and found his usual supplies. The first to go on was something that looked like a cross between a horse blanket and a set of dark blue coveralls. As he dressed himself, he quickly looked over to see if his outfit was on correctly and all the straps were secured. Of course, the bulge of his diaper was still very clearly visible but the outfit was designed to keep his diaper from tearing or snagging on obstacles, not to disguise it. The next was a gun belt and a headlamp. After checking to see that they were securely in place, he opened the last case.
Inside was a rifle that could have passed for a toy thanks to its small size. Earthsting inhaled the heady scent of smokeless powder and oil as he carefully took the rifle out and inspected it. Satisfied with the rifle's condition, he placed it aside and began loading the magazines.
The rifle he had was a specialized pest control rifle that was designed to be used by Compys, Velociraptors and other micro-theropods. On a Human scale, it was little more than a BB gun (and nearly unusable due to it being made to scale for a two kilogram theropod). It fired special ceramic rounds that would fragment upon impact, preventing penetration of the structural materials and ensuring a quick and humane kill of its target.
Earthsting placed the full magazines in his gun belt and slung the rifle over his back. He adjusted his gear and finished placing the other consumable supplies in the pockets of his coveralls.
``Do you feel lucky, punk?'' he growled, pointing a claw at the toolbox. John smirked as he watched the knee-high theropod do a Dirty Harry impression. The effect was mostly ruined by Earthsting's high-pitched voice.
``Okay, save the acting for later.'' John slung his bag of rat poison over his shoulder, locked the truck and walked up to the house. He rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, a woman opened the door.
``You must be the exterminators,'' the woman said. ``I'm having a mouse problem in the basement crawl space.''
``Yes we are,'' John said. ``My partner's going to be handling the crawl space while I set the baits.''
``Okay. We're on it,'' Earthsting said. He was silently thankful the woman didn't coo over him or say how cute he was. Then again, the silver tag on his collar was clearly visible and most of the overly mushy sentiments came from the larger Mesozoicans like Utahraptors or even Deinonychus.
He entered the threshold of the house and sniffed. The pungent scent of mice wafted up from a door opposite the entrance.
``Excuse me,'' Earthsting said. ``Can you please open the door for me?''
``Sorry.'' The woman opened the door and turned on the lights, revealing a stairwell that led into the basement. As the Compy approached the door, the odor of mice became overpowering. He swallowed, making sure not to drool on the floor. Earthsting reminded himself to take some of the mice carcasses later for himself and his housemates.
He looked around the basement. Nothing odd; just the usual boxes of old clothing, unwanted furniture and other bits and baubles that invariably accumulated in a house. He crouched down and began sniffing the concrete floor. As he did so, the scent of mice filled his nostrils. Earthsting's tail began to sway slightly as he continued tracking the trail. Soon, he was able to hear the squeaking of mice as he approached the crawlspace He turned on his headlamp, the white beam piercing the darkness. He was able to see a dirt floor with wooden supports above and to the side.
The Compy unslung his rifle and flicked off the safety. A mouse paused for a moment and sniffed. That was all the time he needed to shoot the mouse. The rifle bucked against him and the report of the rifle rang in his ears. Even with the suppressor and earplugs, the rifle was still loud enough to make him flinch.
The iron scent of blood told him that he had hit his target. The squeaking of mice continued. He raised his rifle and started firing. It wasn't quite the same as pouncing on said mouse and tearing it to shreds with his teeth and claws - nothing was - but nevertheless, his heart raced and his body tingled as his predatory instincts were satisfied by the squeaking of mice and the iron-animal scent of blood.
His rifle clicked empty and he swapped magazines and chambered a round. The squeaking of mice was gone but the odor still remained, mingled with the earthy scent of ceramic dust and pungent scent of burnt smokeless powder. He approached the piles of mouse corpses. The Compy saw one of the mice twitch.
Earthsting chittered as he bit down on the mouse's head, instantly crushing its skull. He slurped down the mouse and licked his muzzle clean. It was then he realized his hasty breakfast of salted raw pork wasn't enough. The Compy looked at the piles of mouse carcasses and shrugged in a remarkably Human manner.
Mouse wasn't his favorite meat but he was hungry. He slung the rifle on his back and began eating. He tried to be as neat as possible since any piece of mouse or blood he left behind would inevitably rot and then the homeowner would complain about the odor.
He considered this free lunch as a perk to his job as an exterminator.
When Earthsting had finished eating one of the piles of mice, he rumbled in pleasure and began preening himself to remove as much blood from his hands and muzzle as possible. He removed a biodegradable plastic bag from his pocket and began placing the carcasses in the bag. When that was done, he placed a tracking sticker on the bag. The sticker had an actively transmitting RFID tag that he could pick up using the scanner tucked into one of his many pockets.
The Compy slung his rifle on his back and bent down to the floor, sniffing for any additional mice. His tail swayed back and forth as continued tracking. His instincts came to the fore as he chirped, signaling his non-existent pack where food was. When he got no reply, his tail lowered in embarrassment.
He then heard the ultrasonic chirping and squeaks of baby mice.
``Man,'' Earthsting muttered as he headed towards the source of the noise. ``How the hell did this woman neglect the mice problem so long!?''
He rounded a corner and was soon faced with litters of squeaking baby mice and several female mice. His mouth watered at the scent of the mice but looking upon them, there was no way he'd be able to eat them all. The litter of mice alone was good enough for two meals! The Compy pondered how to deal with this problem. Shooting the baby mice first might alarm the adults and they might either run away or attack. And not to mention, they were small enough that the bullets might pass through them and not properly fragment.
In the end, he simply opted for the quick and dirty approach. The rifle's report echoed in his ears as the adult mice fell to his precisely aimed shots. The baby mice were not yet strong enough to flee or fight back. He ignored their futile struggling as he stuffed the baby mice into the plastic bag, sealed and tagged it.
Earthsting repeated the same procedure with the adult mouse carcasses. He placed his snout to the ground and began sniffing, his tail swayed from side to side as he tried to pick up any additional scents.
Almost an hour later, he had swept through the entire crawlspace and found no more mice. The bags of mouse carcasses had been dragged out to the entrance of the crawlspace. He slung his rifle over his back and pressed a button on what looked like a small remote control that was dangling from a belt loop on his coveralls.
``John,'' he said into the miniaturized radio. ``I just got done cleaning out the crawlspace.''
John's voice came back, staticky but understandable. ``Got that. I'm still setting up the poisons. I should be done soon.''
Earthsting nodded. His tail swished back and forth, making his diaper crinkle. It was then he felt the effects of his breakfast on his digestive system. The Compy looked up at the stairs and pondered asking the homeowner if he could use her bathroom. Despite only suffering from nocturnal incontinence, he wore diapers while at work to avoid the embarrassment of having to ask his partner to hold him over the toilet or run the risk of falling in.
He looked around and sniffed the air. His partner was nowhere to be smelt and the homeowner was not present as well. He wondered if he could wait until he got home to use the toilet. A slight pressure in his cloaca gave him the answer.
The Compy relaxed and sighed in relief as he deposited the remains of his breakfast into the seat of his diaper. The pungent odor of Compsognathus dung wafted up from behind him as he continued emptying himself. When he was done, he chanced a look at the diaper swaddling his rump. Sure enough, it was visibly sagging with its contents but the leg and waist gathers did a good job at holding the waste in. Since the diaper he was wearing was actually a store-brand size 4 baby diaper (designed for Human babies, nonetheless), he had simply cut a hole for his tail to protrude through.
Of course, he quickly learned that he needed to use duct tape to make an ad hoc tail gather, lest he leave droppings behind.
It was then the sound of someone walking down the stairs could be heard. Earthsting sniffed the air; it was his partner.
``Well,'' John said as he walked down the stairs. ``I think we're just about done!'' He then looked at the pile of bagged mouse carcasses and picked them up.
``Wait!'' Earthsting said. ``Save the bag with the baby mice and two bags with the adults for me and my pack!''
``Will do. I'll drop you off so you can `freshen up' and pass those mouse carcasses to your pack before we head onto our next job.''
Earthsting lowered his tail in embarrassment. The use of the term `freshen up' was a clear indicator of his partner knowing what he had just done in his diaper. ``Okay.'' He then chuffed in annoyance. ``Seriously, get a cooler so I can place my mouse carcasses in there.''
John chuckled. ``You kidding, your carrier takes up what little space is in the back."
The Compy hissed but knew he was right. The entire back of the pickup truck had several traps stacked in the rear for live-captures.
He followed his partner up the stairs where he encountered the owner of the house. ``Thank you so much for your help,'' she said.
The Compy looked up at the woman. ''No problem, but you need to keep in mind that mice reproduce very quickly. The moment you see them, you should consider controlling them yourself with poisons or traps.''
``I'll keep that mind.'' The woman bade the two goodbye.
Back outside by the truck, John had put his satchel of poison away and was taking his gloves off and putting them into a trash bag. Earthsting unloaded his rifle and placed it along with the magazines back in the toolbox. He carefully stripped out of his coveralls, revealing his sagging diaper and the base of his tail wrapped in duct tape. Said coveralls, the gun belt and the headlamp were then placed into the toolbox. When that was done, it was closed up and loaded into the back of the truck.
The Compy then climbed into the truck and into the baby carrier where he buckled himself in. He winced as the straps that went between his legs pushed his messy diaper against his cloaca. He then carefully threaded his tail through the gap between the two straps. He heard the door slam and the engine come to life as John began driving.
``You there, Earthsting?'' John called.
Earthsting made a sound between a bark and a cough that confirmed he was present. He leaned back in the baby carrier and began reading the newspaper he hadn't quite finished.
***
The truck stopped outside a medium sized one-story house. It looked just like any other house from the street until one approached the house. Whereupon a doorbell placed at the height of an average Human's shin was visible along with a door that went up to the average Human's waist. Of course, there was also a standard door and doorbell. And signs posted on both doors that read ``Use the door appropriate to your size'' and ``The smaller door is not a mail slot''.
``Give me a call when you're done!'' John said as he opened the door. Earthsting unbuckled himself and grabbed the bags of mice. He made his way up to the door and placed his collar tag right on the doorbell. The door unlocked with a click and he entered.
Almost immediately, he was greeted with the sound of chirping as thirty Compsognathus - all with different scale colors and all of them diapered (and with the base of their tails wrapped in duct tape) - approached the front door.
``What did you get for us this time, Krckactan?'' a dull green Compy asked. This one was female judging from her voice.
Earthsting chuckled. ``Well, Thkrla,'' he said. ``I hope you like mice!'' He held up both bags of mice.
``Goody!''A voice called out. ``Are we going to have stir-fried baby mouse again? I'm tired of anoles.''
``Shut up.'' Another voice shot back. ``Those anoles we're raising are paying for our supplies and this house!''
``Yep!'' Earthsting headed into the kitchen. All the other Compsognathus dispersed to do whatever.
Unsurprisingly, all of the cooking equipment and supplies were downscaled to fit the small inhabitants of the house. He opened the refrigerator and stuffed the mice inside. The half-eaten salt-pork stuffed mouse he was going to have as a snack had been eaten. He sighed and shut the door.
It was then he felt someone patting his messy diaper, pushing the mess against his rump. He chittered in annoyance and turned around to see a white and grey mottled Compsognathus.
Said Compsognathus sniffed and nuzzled him. ``So you're the stinky one.''
Earthsting groaned. ``I'll get to it later, Kthltan.''
Kthltan chittered and rubbed the messy diaper. ``Oh no, Krckactan, you do it now! Since you make big messes in your diapers!''
Earthsting hissed. ``Only because I don't get to change while I'm working!'' He swished his tail and slapped Kthltan's hands away. ``Now are you going to change my diaper or be a pain in the cloaca?'' Kthltan was one of his favorite packmates but his habit of teasing the others about their messy diapers was a tad irritating. Granted, he was the only one who didn't wear diapers at all during the day.
Kthltan gave his packmate's diapered rump a swat. ``Sure! Just let me get the supplies!'' The Compy then headed to the living room where a changing mat had been set up. Thkrla was in the process of putting on a fresh diaper and taping up the tail hole. She tossed her soiled diaper into the diaper pail in the corner and got up. ``All yours,'' she said as she opened the small door leading to the backyard. The backward was well-maintained but a large part of it was occupied by a wood and mesh hutch that contained anoles that the pack was raising for sale.
Earthsting lay down on the changing mat and spread his legs as his packmate went to get the changing supplies. Sure enough, a spare diaper, duct tape, wipes and baby powder were prepared. He playfully wriggled his legs and swished his tail as Kthltan used his claws to gently slice the duct tape that was wrapped around Earthsting's tail as a crude tail gather. Next was the distinct ripping noise of his diaper's tapes being opened. Both Compys wrinkled their muzzles at the odor of Compsognathus droppings that wafted up from the open diaper.
He rumbled in pleasure as he felt the cool wipes cleaning the dung off his rump and cloaca. He felt himself being lifted up slightly and his tail being pulled through the tail hole. He sneezed slightly as a plume of baby powder wafted up towards his nose. He didn't really need it as getting a rash was extremely difficult due to his scales but the baby powder helped cover up the odor of his messy diapers.
The orange Compy watched as Kthltan unfolded the diaper and slid it under his rump, pulling his tail through the tail hole. In seconds, Earthsting was in a fresh diaper. He stood up and allowed his packmate to tape up the tail hole. He gently swished his tail, making his diaper crinkle.
``All done!'' Kthltan gave Earthsting an affectionate pat on his diapered bottom, rolled up the soiled diaper and wipes and tossed them in the bin in the corner. He then headed off to wash his hands.
Earthsting sat up and rubbed his diaper. He wasn't sure why Kthltan always volunteered to change his diapers and always patted his rump. Of course, he couldn't complain since he was very good at diaper changes. He headed towards the foyer and grabbed the wireless phone from the wall. He dialed John and informed him that he was finished and ready to go.
The Compsognathus sat down on the stairs and peered out the windows flanking the larger front door, he could see some children heading home. He looked at the clock on the wall: 2:45 PM. The school day was just finishing up.
As he watched the children walking home and waited for his partner's truck, one thought was on his mind: Why did Kthltan like patting and touching his diapered bottom?
Earthsting made a note to ask him later when he got off work.
