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As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established diaper dimension. These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) Surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female and some male domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Violence (pertaining to weapons, assault, or harm of others) Verbally abusive and violent caretakers Drugs and associated criminal elements Guns and their usage Blood and gore Mild language This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy the following story and this first chapter. Chapter 1: You Can't Be “Okay, let’s just get this out of the way right off the bat. As you can see, I’m a stuffed animal and my name is…” “Tus’!” Willy called out from the kitchen. “Iss time!” “Right. Tus’, but for any who haven’t been regressed by this towering society made of Bigs, Middles, and Littles, my name is Tusk,” I said proudly. “I’m named appropriately because I am obviously, well… an elephant. Not the eighth wonder of the world, Jumbo, who balances on a little ball under the big top mind you, but an elephant nonetheless.” I then lowered my voice. “Keep in mind though that I wouldn’t put it past my original designer for thinking along those lines, but I don’t even tower over Littles, let alone the Bigs. So, no… here in the non-imaginary world, I am just a stuffed animal, or ‘stuffy’ as most Littles like us are called,” I stated to the trembling duck before me. “I’m your typical male elephant; gray, big ears, a trunk, a tail, two tusks, and limbs that have the dexterity to basically push or pull and maybe grab onto certain objects, but I’m… we’re so much more around here.” The duck just looked at me with wide and uninitiated eyes. Obviously fresh out of the box, with the evidence of that still strewn about the floor. “You see, I am proudly owned by a Little in this massive world. It’s a job that most want but few can handle. I personally had no qualms about my job or what it meant for my Little’s future, but I love him to death and would do anything for him. That’s the job of us stuffy’s. Understand?” Before the duck could answer, rapturous laughter came from nearby. “Ha Ha Ha!” Willy cried out hysterically from the kitchen. “Speak of the devil…” I said, still seeing that the duck was too intimidated by everything going on to answer my question for now. “That would be Willy, my… or I guess our Little. Mommy is likely playing around with his footsies,” I say in air quotes as best I can, “it’s tradition by now for when he’s in the chair. Plus, it’s a special day after all and I can even smell a something extra brewing.” I sniff delightedly and take in every bit of the aroma that I can wafting from the kitchen now. While the typical Saturday morning breakfast of some delicious, syrup-covered blueberry pancakes still hangs in the air, there is something more delightful afoot now… something sweeter. “This old baby,” I point to my trunk, “picks up everything, despite it being full of fluff. I don’t know if it’s magic or what, but smelling all that goodness is almost as good as if I was eating whatever it is myself.” ‘Oh, the intangible perks of specific species as stuffed animals!’ “Anyway, as I said, our kind is everywhere, and if I’ve learned anything recently, some absolutely love me, and others downright despise me. Between my ears is just some batting, but my feelings are just as large as any Big walking out there on the street, so it hurts a bit for those who don’t.” I sighed. “I suppose if I really thought about it though, it probably all began the day I broke the rules. If you’re going to stay here, Mr. Duck,” I said, not knowing his name yet, “you ought to know everything first.” * * * Willy and I were in the playroom of Mommy’s and Daddy’s house, though I suppose most knew them as Robert and Emily Galpin. He struck it rich after they first got married in tech or something, so space was never really an issue here in a I guess what could classified as their mansion. Not the biggest on the block mind you, but impressive, nonetheless. I didn’t care one way or another really, but days like today, playing cops and robbers was an entirely different experience under this roof. “Bang! Bang-bang!” Willy shouted idly back and forth. A figure loomed behind a cardboard constructed bank and money lay strewn about on the ground. Amidst the mock gunfire, the money no longer seemed to be worth anything to either shooting party. “Bang!” Willy shouted again. “Ugh!” Willy said, mimicking the voice from the figure behind the bank to indicate that the last shot had met its intended target. I was guided out from behind my barricade by Willy and looked over the assailant, now lying wounded on the ground before me. “Youwe be pushin’ up daisies Mistuh Moo befo’ wong. No mo’ wobbin’ the banks fo’ you!” Willy said triumphantly, holding me up, a curved stick to stand in for a gun placed in my hand. Outside this scene, I was Tusk, but here, I was Officer Trunk, a decorated police officer and winner of the popsicle award for goodness. Before me, lay Mr. Moo, an aptly named cow lay outstretched on the floor and currently a failed bank robber of Marker City National. “You… you doody head! I’ll… I’ll geh you nex’ time, Officew Twunk,” Willy said in a raspy voice to mimic, Mr. Moo’s alter ego. It wasn’t perfect, but our battles had become legendary since Willy and I first came home. More importantly now though, Willy was happy here… or at least as one could be being a Little in this society. “Uhhhh…” Willy maneuvered Mr. Moo’s arm jerking up in the air for vengeance against me, and then let go. Mr. Moo, the curd of the playroom and robber of the local bank at least seven times this week, had perished by my righteous hand. “Excewent wouk, Offithe Twunk,” Willy said in a lower voice, now inserting himself into the situation as head of the specialized police force protecting Marker City, an apt name if there ever was one considering the amount of marker that had been used over the cardboard cutouts of buildings around us. “Ah, Inspecto Poof! We finawy ga’ Mistuh Moo,” Willy said, switching back to my alter ego. “Aftuh many hawd houwes we’ve…” “I don’t care what the other women have!” a voice shouted from the hallway. I had heard it enough to know that Daddy had come home from his investment company, though likely was still working here, and what’s more, he wasn’t happy about something with Mommy regarding Willy. ‘As usual…’ “You don’t understand, Robert. Bethany and Calliope both have their Littles being shown at the art fair next month,” Mommy said. “Emily, if their Littles went to Mars, I still wouldn’t care! Now, I have a meeting to get back to on the phone in my office,” Daddy said curtly. “Don’t bring this up again!” I was too distracted by the stomping I could hear afterward to notice that Willy had gotten up and was now taking me into the hallway, Mr. Moo, still left prone and ‘dead’ on the floor by the bank. Before leaving the room, Willy grabbed his backpack and dragged it behind him with his other hand not holding onto me. I inwardly groaned and dreaded what I suspected Willy was setting out to do. Moments later, Willy was in the living room and looked sadly at his mommy hunched over on the couch, nursing a glass of what I could only imagine was strong alcohol. It was a trend I had noticed that she had picked up with increasing regularity, particularly in the past month during the same time Daddy had increased his irate nature at home. I could see from my lowered position that Willy had seen the glass as well, but either didn’t understand or didn’t care. Either way, he reached into his undersea-themed backpack and pulled out a large sheet of paper. Quietly creeping as best he could with his still-crinkly diaper, he reached Mommy and held out the paper. “I made dis fo’ you, Mommy.” She looked up from her glass and at the paper and Willy. He had made it today at daycare and was very proud of his numerous fingerprints dotting the parchment. Close up, it was the inane and random smudges of any regressed Little. Further away though, it was a highly detailed butterfly, more beautiful and colorful than even real life. All the workers were impressed and could only ‘awww’ when Willy announced it was for his mommy because he knew that she liked them. Willy waited with bated breath as she looked over the picture. Any mommy worth their salt would have praised their Little, particularly one who had already been regressed. At this stage, if a Little was still showing this level of talent, any Big would have been immensely impressed, unless they stupidly wanted a Little at a newborn level. ‘I’m glad that trend isn’t around much anymore…’ I knew by now that Emily Galpin, Willy’s mommy, was not one who would ever consider a newborn level, but she also wasn’t the praising type either. As if to prove my point, she started to talk about it for a moment. “It’s nice, Willy, but mommy has to go. Show it to me later.” She stood up, her flowy and fashionable white pantsuit evening out as it hung off her skinny and meticulously groomed body out, before leaving the picture unceremoniously behind on the table in front of us. “I’ve got an afternoon luncheon with the girls. If you were older, you would understand.” She set her glass down and didn’t notice the now trembling piece of paper in Willy’s hand that he had picked up sadly after she had put it down. Mommy strutted to the door and grabbed her small leather purse that matched her outfit. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but Nanny Sarah will take care of things, I’m sure.” She was halfway out the door when she suddenly turned back. I could see Willy’s hopes rise that she would mention the painting that he had presented to her. “Oh, and Daddy is working really hard today. Don’t disturb him if you know what’s good for you. Yeah…” she trailed off briefly but then perked right back up soon after. “Anyway, bye-bye, sweetie!” She waved her fingers and closed the door behind her. I always hated how she said, ‘sweetie.’ Normally, that word conveyed affection. With Mommy though, it felt deflated and more of an automatic response. One born out of necessity to be the in-fashion mommy and what was expected of her role, rather than a genuine nickname toward her Little. Looking away from the door, I stared up at my Little. The trembling painting now fell to the floor and Willy dragged himself back to the playroom. I could already hear the sniffling. It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Not with these people. Now, I knew that Bigs inherently loved their own or even random Littles they met to the point of obsession and insanity sometimes, but like anything else, not everyone was alike. Some Bigs just cared more about other things, and I knew by now that Robert and Emily Galpin were sadly those types of Bigs. I suppose it would be like when not everyone coos over puppy dogs or kittens. Different, but not unheard of. In this case though, it was unbearable to just stand by and watch as an observer only with how much it affected my own regressed Little. Stuck in my own thoughts for a moment, I only snapped out of them when Willy suddenly stopped before entering the playroom and looked at the slightly ajar door on the other end of the house, the one leading to Daddy’s office. ‘No, Willy. Please… not there.’ But Willy couldn’t hear my thoughts. It was the negative of being a stuffy here… there were rules, and as much as I despised them, the consequences for going against them could be severe amongst toy kind. So, sure enough, in a few short minutes without my words of warning, Willy had waddled to Daddy’s office and pushed open the door. “Daddy?” “I don’t know, Bill.” He then noticed Willy and waved violently for him to go away. “It should be all on time.” Willy had been regressed and like most things, it came with its negatives towards Bigs as well as its positives. Not understanding all social cues or not reading a person’s demeanor from further away, had been casualties of the same treatment that required Willy to wear diapers now or have him call Emily and Robert as Mommy and Daddy respectively. I never failed to question how those two never got that concept with a Little. So, to my utter chagrin, Willy, not fully understanding the angry gesture from Daddy, took a few steps inside until he was directly looking at him, now seated behind his large oaken desk, his face bathed in the light of the new computer he had purchased for himself last month. “Daddy? I made dis fo’ Mommy. Do you wike?” In the pale light of technology, I saw Daddy’s face grow cross, and I braced for the storm I knew was about to happen. He cupped the phone’s receiver to block his sound and whispered angrily, “Willy! I’m on the phone. Go away.” I saw Willy’s face scrunch up. ‘Not good. Leave now, Willy. Leave now, before you do something we both regret.’ “Bu’ Daddy! I made dis fo’ Mommy. I…” Daddy stood up and held out a finger. Its effect was palpable, and Willy instantly stopped speaking. If it was all possible, Willy seemed to shrink into the wooden floor and ornate carpet underneath his sock-covered feet. “I’m going to have to put you on hold, Bill.” He paused. “Yes, it’s my Little. Someone isn’t listening.” His words were simple, but he nearly hissed them at the end. From my stealthy and passive ‘unreal’ state, I had heard many of the conversations between Mommy and Daddy. It didn’t take me long to realize that both only wanted a Little to boost their social status in this society, so some of the drawbacks of having a Little were detested and passed off by both onto each other or their hire housekeeper and nanny. As a caregiver, patience was paramount, but neither seemed to have a great capacity for it, as evidenced by the situation currently at hand. Daddy clicked a button on his phone calmly with a beep, likely the mute button, but then immediately stared at Willy with his most wretched face. I instantly knew that Willy needed to leave now, but he only stuck firm in his diminutive position, and like a bolt of lightning, Daddy struck hard. “Willy! I’m very disappointed in you. You’ve been a very bad boy for Daddy today. Go back to your playroom right now! You never interrupt me while I’m on a call. Do you understand?” “But Daddy…” Willy’s voice trembled. He then stood up and it wasn’t much, but it made Willy shrink to the floor even more if all possible. “I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Now, you obey me or else little baby.” “Buh…” Daddy’s nostrils flared and he furiously lunged over and clicked another button from a nearby console. “Sarah! Get in here. Now!” He clicked off. “Don’t make me get Mr. Paddle, Willy. You know you don’t like him, do you?” Willy shook his head as hard as he could, and I couldn’t blame him for the few uses that Mr. Paddle had actually been used in this household. At this point, it was more of a threat, but it was a palpable one, nonetheless. “Good. One more time in here while I’m working, and you’ll see just how wicked Mr. Paddle can get.” From experience I knew Daddy was practically always working, so what he really meant was never. Errrr! Daddy looked up as the door opened slowly with a creak and looked at the woman now standing before him. “Good, Sarah, you’re here.” “Yes, Mr. Galpin?” Sarah answered quickly, her blue dress and apron just settling from her hustle to answer Daddy’s call as quickly as possible. “Willy here is interrupting my call. Will you please take him from here?” Sarah hesitated and moved slowly into the room, being equally as nervous around Daddy as I would have been if I could move in front of others. Daddy’s impatience showed and he belted out, “Now!” She nearly yelped at his outburst and quickly nodded her head. “Yes, Mr. Galpin.” She then made a beeline for Willy, “Right away!” In seconds, Willy had been scooped up by Nanny Sarah and then removed from the room. As she exited, she made sure to close the door behind her. A click to the door signaled the ending of the short but tempestuous ordeal and Sarah quickly hustled away toward the playroom. Once out of earshot though, she looked at the still-trembling Willy whom she then had placed back on the floor. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry about all that. You know how he gets… best to just leave him be, right?” “Buh… buh… buh” Willy tried to make more words but instead only resorted to holding up the painting still in his hand. Tears bubbled and threatened to spill down his cheeks as Nanny Sarah leaned in to see what he was holding. “Oh? What’s this?” Nanny Sarah took the paper gently and held it out in front of her to look at it further. “Oh, wow! This is so beautiful, baby. You’re so talented.” She then bent down and nuzzled Willy and squeezed him tightly. From my position in Willy’s arms, Nanny Sarah was just once again proving why I liked her infinitely more than Willy’s real caregivers. Emily and Robert had their own strengths; this house’s size and decorations were a testament to that notion, but their caring natures had much to be desired. For a Little, their lack of certain qualities was a major gap and I despised that they had ever laid their eyes on and then plucked Willy out of that show room of sorts to be their Little. Nanny Sarah let Willy go, wiped an errant tear away from his cheek, and then brought us both back into the playroom, where she then gave Willy a quick diaper check before setting him down. “A little wet, but those diapers can hold a lot, so you should be good to go until after dinner at this point. No sense in wasting one around here, right?” Willy nodded, having grown accustomed to sitting in used diapers by now. I honestly would have been surprised if Willy had even noticed his diaper’s state if Nanny Sarah hadn’t pointed it out. She stood in the doorway for a second, still looking at the painting in her hands of the butterfly. “This is really good, Willy.” “Dank you…” he said reservedly, still looking dejected over the rejection of now both Mommy and Daddy. Nanny Sarah smiled sympathetically at Willy. “Tell you what, I’m going to put this on the fridge for your mommy and daddy to see later. I’m sure they’ll both love it when they’re more… free.” I could tell she wanted to say something more along the lines of, ‘more inclined to actually care about their Little like I do,’ but she knew it wasn’t her place as the nanny and maid of the household, no matter what her feelings were toward Willy. “You play a little more and I’ll be back in a little bit to check on you and take you to dinner. I’m sure you’ll love it!” She gave another half-hearted sympathy smile and vanished from view. Willy sat emotionless, quite the opposite from where we had started only minutes before. Meanwhile, Mr. Moo lay motionless in his position on the ground. Willy couldn’t tell, but I could see that Mr. Moo had moved about in the time we had been away. Holding a ‘dead’ pose for too long was never fun as a toy, but maintaining the illusion of us just being lifeless things to toss about was also one of our top priorities. “I don’ know, Tus’… Why doesn’ Mommy or Daddy wuv me?” I could see the tears as they fell pitifully from his face now. “I’m a widdle. Aw da way twu, bu’ dey don’ cawe! Befo’, I wan’ed fweedom an’ my ol’ wife back. Now, I jus’ wan’ a hug! Iss dat so much to as’?” ‘Darn. What to do? What to do?’ Willy was my Little and it was my responsibility to keep him healthy and safe to the best of my ability without revealing my true nature. It was toy law. Even new toys who thought they were space rangers or literal cats knew of the rule. No one ever questioned it; however, we all knew there was also an exception to it. Like most rules, there was the exception that proved the rule that I had just remembered about. In our case, a Little had to be in danger of some kind for a toy to intervene. To be frank, I always hated the caveat as it could be stretched to mean a lot of things. ‘Danger of what? From whom?’ There was too much gray area for my tastes for it to be a good exception to the law, though maybe it was that way so the toy could have some wiggle room on a case-by-case basis. Either way, Willy was now rocking back and forth, and tears were freely flowing from his eyes and dampening the firetruck onesie that he was currently wearing. In his despair, Willy had dropped me on the floor in front of him by the cardboard bank, and from there, I took stock of the situation. Despite the massive house we lived in, and every toy or piece of clothing Willy could possibly want, he was still unhappy. I knew deep down that the riches of the world couldn’t buy what Willy truly wanted at this point. Even more damnable was that Willy had been made this way. A Little was here to love and be loved by Bigs and Willy had been changed to fit that need to perfection, even when his Bigs didn’t reciprocate those feelings back in a meaningful way. So now, it was the Bigs that threatened to tear his heart in half and that was something that hit me hard right in the gut, but I also knew that it was all very dangerous for everyone involved. We toys tend to talk in our free time and I knew that this had happened before in two cases. With the first, the toy had done nothing about their dejected Little until it was too late. The Little regressed fully and lost any part of themselves to self-loathing and hatred. Knowing the Bigs which usually led to such an event, the Little was often given up for adoption and then became a hopeless case after one rejection already. The prognosis for a Little ever having a happy life after that was usually pretty remote and ultimately grim. The other scenario was worse though. Having Littles from all types of backgrounds, it was inevitable that one with a military background would endure the same treatment one day. The White Valley Mall Incident had been etched into every mind, Big, Middle, or Little since then. In the end, dozens of Bigs lay dead or injured and the Little… well, we all just knew that it wasn’t a happy ending. ‘No. Not my Willy…I can’t let that happen. Not to him…’ So with a heavy breath, I gathered my strength and got up from where I had fallen and walked calmly over to Willy. Nearby, Mr. Moo looked at me with horror and yet recognition over what I was doing. He shook his head as much as possible to dissuade me, but my path forward was clear. As a Little, Willy was subject to the Bigs. As a stuffy though, I was subject to Willy, and Willy needed me in a way that transcended the typical relationship that most Littles and their stuffy’s had. I took another long breath and took my leap of faith. “Willy… Willy?” He continued crying and rocking himself in an effort to self-soothe. It wasn’t working, so I tried again. “Willy,” I said more strongly. He stopped. ‘That got his attention…’ “Wha…? Who said dat?” Willy looked all around; panic stricken after seeing the empty room and equally empty doorway. “Willy… down here…” Will looked at me and blinked his eyes in disbelief. Willy’s eyes were full of fear and apprehension over what he thought he had just heard from his favorite companion. This situation rarely presented itself, so there was no how-to manual on how to proceed as a toy. I didn’t want to screw this up, so I went in light, and I merely waved at him casually. “Hey.” Willy rubbed his eyes to no doubt ensure he wasn’t imagining things. When he saw my little arm waving again, he rubbed again, now more furiously and once he saw that I wasn’t going away, began shaking his head. “Oh no… no, no, no… I finawy did ih’… I cwacked. I’m da widdle who cwacked unda’ da stwain… bye-bye bih’ house, hewo padded ceww…” ‘Crud. He thinks he’s losing it…’ I knew it was now or never, so I reached out and touched his shoulder gently to reassure my friend. “Willy… I know this is a lot, but you’re not going crazy. I promise. Cross my heart even.” He looked at me both in relief and confusion and stopped his rocking for a moment. “Now, I know you’ve been through a lot, so I’m breaking a big rule by doing this, but we need to talk.”

Rosy,a girl around 24 losing her job as a space flight engineer, and having to return to her birth planet: