I saw the difference after each surgery. My forehead smoothed and lips filled out onto my youthening face. The rest of the work was done at the gym: treadmill, free weights, bench press. I guess others saw the difference, too. My soft features and hard muscles got me a little action here and there. But I made seven trips to the surgeon and spent thousands of hours at the gym before I realized that every 38 year old looks 22 in my field. What I had didn’t set me apart.

Youth is the ideal, so I went further: eye augmentation, daily Botox injections, tooth removal, head shrinking. I canceled my gym membership and consumed massive quantities of yogurt, bananas, and applesauce. My body fat went up to 15 percent. I lost some motor skills and can’t pronounce certain words anymore. I shit twelve times a day. There’s not much I can do about my height, though. It doesn’t matter. Now everyone calls me Big Baby.

I started doing weirdo clips. Just oddball mondo shit. There was no real market for porn actors with the head of a baby and the body of a huge baby. The work was steady enough to quit my day job after a few months. The new clips were different, but my career progressed and I was grateful to be doing what I like to do, what I’m good at. I stayed booked for a couple years, pulling down more money than I did at my nine to five and even putting some away.

I must’ve had some notoriety because I got a letter allegedly from the FBI. Something about a campaign to combat child pornography. I thought it was harassment or a prank, so I tossed it.  A few more letters came and I tossed them, too! Obviously, I was surprised when this government guy in a suit showed up at my house a few weeks later.

“Mr. Baby”—I had legally changed my name to Big Baby—“I’m Special Agent Woodson Bronc. We sent you several letters requesting your help with our efforts to combat child exploitation. Your involvement is very important to us, which is why I’m here in person today.”

“Huh, okay, yeah. I mean, I got the letters, but I guess I thought it was a joke or something. Sorry. But look, you know I’m an adult, right? The whole Big Baby thing, it’s just a gimmick.”

“Yes, I understand that. We’re not accusing you of wrongdoing. I’ve followed your career with great interest,” he leaned in conspiratorially, “and there is something I believe you can help us with.”

I leaned in, too, mocking his hushed tone: “Okay, you just tell Big Baby all about it.”

“Here’s the situation,” he continued, unbothered. “Child pornography is the fastest growing media industry in the country right now. We have tried everything to slow it down, but it’s one step forward, two steps back. To be perfectly honest, people love that shit.”

“Alright, so what, you want me to go undercover or something?” I laughed and sucked down a pouch of Danimals yogurt, chucked the empty to the floor.

“Well, not exactly. What we want is to produce our own kiddie porn films with you as the star. Enforcement doesn’t work, so we’re looking at taking a harm reduction approach. We realize we can’t kill the industry, but if we can give people what they want without kids getting hurt, that’s a win.”

I really wanted to believe this guy was fucking with me, but no one with Kevlar shoelaces has a sense of humor. I suddenly felt pretty humorless, too.

“Look man, they call me Big Baby for a reason. That reason is that I’m a fucking adult with a baby’s head. What’s your deal?”

“We would deepfake your body. The technology exists. It’s rudimentary, but it’s good enough.”

“Huh. Okay. I don’t know….”

“Look, I get it, it’s weird right? Just think about it. I’ll come back.”

He left without either of us saying another word, but the rest is history.

There’s the life we want and the life we get. I can’t say I envisioned this life, but it could be worse. I’m serving my country, fighting the kiddie porn industrial complex. I control my life, my future. People know me. They love me. I’m a star. Big Baby! Goddamn.