And now, a story with an ever-so-slightly ludicrous premise, starring a little brown bear who hopes to become the brightest star on Saturday morning television... only to discover that he's getting more exposure than he intended. Caution: Contains shameless late 1980s nostalgia, embarrassing diaper changes, video recordings of dubious consent, and oblique references to a vintage cartoon lousy even by the low standards of the studio that made it.

"You look great, little guy! Now go out there, have fun, and remember, smile for the camera! "

Byron emerged from his dressing room in a loud buttoned down shirt, with a light brown vest layered over it. Below that was a pair of baggy shorts, and completing the ensemble was a pair of high top sneakers. This wardrobe must have made quite a fashion statement thirty years ago, but now, it left the cub feeling overdressed and desperate for attention. He was led to the doors of a massive building packed with brightly colored shops, and a fountain with a jet of water springing twenty feet upward. This enormous shopping center was the very definition of wicked excess... and he kind of liked it that way.

The cub shook his head in disbelief. "You built a mall just for this show? Nobody goes to malls anymore!"

"There's a reason for that," the show's producer, a lanky reddish-brown wolf with a single fang dangling under his muzzle, explained. "This series is set way back in the 1980s, about a bunch of kids having fun, cracking jokes, and enjoying themselves. There's a lot of promising talent here, but you're the best of the bunch... that's why we're going to call the show 'Yo Byron.' So, what do you think?"

Byron looked around in wonder at the multitude of stores that surrounded him from all angles. Toys! Games! A densely populated food court! "So I walk around this mall, buy whatever I want, make silly jokes, and that's the show?"

"Yes," the producer nodded. It all felt a little too easy, but Byron just shrugged and set his eyes on one of the restaurants in the distance. As long as it was someone else's money getting wasted on such a stupid idea, the cub was happy to make the most of the situation.

"Cool, I'll be at the Sbarro if you need me!" Byron took one step in the direction of the food court to satisfy his hunger for greasy Italian food, only to be pulled two steps in the opposite direction.

"Before you vanish on us...," the producer whispered, a mischievous smile curling on his lips. "...there's just one thing we need to do."

The little bear felt a sharp tug on his waist. His puffy, brightly colored shorts fell to his ankles, revealing another relic of the 1980s... a bulky, ill-fitting diaper well past its carrying capacity. It precariously hung from his waist, holding a weighty payload of yellow pulp between his legs. Funny that the assistant in the dressing room didn't take care of that when she had the chance...

Byron felt himself get swept off his feet and laid out on a nearby mall bench. The cold marble finish sent a chill down his spine, even through the garish clothes and his thick orange fur.

"Action!" cried an unseen voice from behind the camera.

Byron heard the crackling rip of a tape being torn from plastic, and he swallowed hard. Every budding actor needs exposure if he wants a shot at fame, but this kind of below the belt exposure he could do without. He was going to have a long, angry talk with his agent after this.

The second tape was torn away, and as his drenched diaper was pulled from his bottom, the little bear felt a gust of cool air dance across his damp crotch. A pink cone slowly emerged from the tip of his foreskin, like a timid prairie dog scanning the perimeter of its burrow for danger. He tried to express his objections, only to have a pacifier plugged into his open mouth.

"Just hold still, we'll have you cleaned up in no time." The cleaning wasn't the problem. As a diaper-bound toddler, Byron had been through that at least a thousand times. It was the live camera pointed below his waist that left him ill at ease. He bit down hard on the paci as he heard the whir of the lens sharpening its focus.

Wet wipes were pulled from a nearby container and pressed into the cub's nether regions. He felt each wipe take the scenic route from the tip of his wee-wee to the contours of his neighboring nutsack, with the fabric finally disappearing between his chubby butt cheeks. Any shyness his penis once had vanished once the first wipe reached his moist, puckered butthole.

Byron tried to clap his knees together to limit his exposure, only to have them pulled apart with strong adult hands. "Allllmost done," he heard as a light pink bottle was set nearby. He felt one hand wrap itself around his ankles, and another massage sweet-smelling liquid into his fur. First it was rubbed into his pudgy bottom with circular sweeps, then squirts of the lotion were generously applied onto his sack and wee wee, now standing at full attention and easily clearing his round tummy.

A single tear trailed down from Byron's dark-furred left eye to his cheek, burning with an equal measure of frustration and embarrassment. He moaned in disapproval as a spray of white powder blasted his bottom. As the odors of the talc and baby lotion mingled, he smelled clean, yet somehow felt dirty.

A fresh diaper was slid under the bear's plump tush and firmly taped into place. Byron was lifted from the bench and set on his feet, with a playful swat on his rear producing a small cloud of dust and offering one last reminder of his humiliation. He spit out his pacifier, its nipple torn to shreds by needle-like baby teeth, and gave the producer a hateful glare.

"What the heck was THAT?," Byron demanded, as his colorful shorts were hoisted back onto his waist. "I never said you could put that on TV!" The producer looked down at the toddler indifferently, with his arms folded across his chest and a slight bump erupting from his pants. What remained of his friendly facade crumbled, revealing the opportunistic creep beneath it. "The contract you stamped with your paw says I can do a lot of things. Now run along, have your pizza, and make nice with the other kids. When you fill that diaper, we'll bring you back for the next take. Feel free to bring along any of the other brats when they mess their pants."

Byron stomped off toward the food court, pulling his shorts up to his belly button and muttering under his breath. He was starting to get the feeling that he was the one who got the raw end of this deal.