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By little_madd · Posted
Ana was deeply engrossed in her book—she loved reading before bed, a key part of her routine alongside drinking chamomile tea. She felt happy gazing at her little girl on the monitor; the child was sleeping soundly, though lately she had been waking up completely soaked. Ana was reading another chapter when her phone rang; seeing Camilla’s name, she said: "Hello, dear. There’s no need to call me 'ma'am'—we’re friends." Ana glanced at the monitor again and added, "I’d like to talk to you about how the regression process is going and offer a piece of advice or two—things I’ve noticed that might be helpful." -
Chapter 2 --- Mommy? Mommy? Mommy!? The absurd words echoed inside Lydia’s mind as her mouth made its best goldfish expression. “Hmm, Ly-Ly? What’s the matter?” the giantess held her hand on Lydia’s forehead, waiting. “Hmm, no fever. You constipated, babygirl?” “C-constipated?!” Lydia shrieked, taking a step back. The place on her head tingled pleasantly, but she was too upset by the All-Mother’s quirky attitude and the revelation of the room they were in. “W-what are you on about?” “Hmm, maybe just a little cranky then,” the All-Mother decided. Lydia huffed, glancing around the room again, hoping she had merely made a mistake in her tired state. Displacement charms were meant to mess with your perception of reality after all. Nope. It was a big nursery alright. “What is all this?” she gestured demandingly. “Hmm? Why, it’s your nursery, silly goose! It’s where you’ll stay while Mommy gets to take care of you,” she smiled sweetly. “O-oh, no,” she shook her head. “No, no, no. I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here. I’m not up for being anyone’s baby. And I’m certainly not staying in this room.” Lydia met the giantess’s piercing grey eyes defiantly this time. That turned out to be another mistake however. They bore into her, exploring her very soul. Perhaps if circumstances had taken a more romantic turn, Lydia would have happily let her be called anything by the woman, as she was overwhelmingly putty in her hands. Alas, if only things were so simple. Lydia bit her lip hard, mustering all her willpower to break off from the powerful glamour surrounding the giant. She panted, catching her breath. The All-Mother truly was beautiful, too beautiful to look upon directly. Lydia turned her gaze downwards. “You know? I think I’ve changed my mind, I’ll probably just take my leave now,” she said, trying to sidestep the giantess. The All-Mother clicked her tongue dismissively, easily intercepting the much smaller woman. “Is that so? And where exactly would you go, little girl? It’s about to get dark, and babies like you can’t roam around at night. It’s not safe!” “I-I’ll take my chances with the worgs,” Lydia said, brushing off the demeaning comments, making sure she didn’t look directly on the All-Mother’s face again. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to resist her much longer. Yet, when she took another defiant step, she felt extremely weak, almost falling over. On second thought…maybe I really do need to lie down. Lydia would try diplomacy one final time, surely the All-Mother would see reason? “Please, just let me rest for a while. A few hours and I’ll be out of your hair.” “Mommy already told you, it’s too dangerous outside.” “Tomorrow morning then? If you might lend me space on your sofa in the kitchen?” The giantess crossed her arms. "Absolutely not. It’s way too big for you to rest comfortably on, you might fall off or make a mess on it during the night.” Lydia couldn’t believe her ears. Did this woman really think she was a child? Why? Had she not trained countless witches in the past? Surely they couldn’t all’ve been subjected to this…could they? “I don’t know what you want from me, please, I’ll sleep on the floor if I have to,” she pleaded. “No-no. That’s icky, besides, your bed is right here, and Mommy promises it’s very comfortable. All my babies have admitted as much from their first night, and you’ll be safe in there,” the woman said reassuringly. It did not reassure, Lydia. Well, I suppose that answered that question… “B-but…I don’t want to?” Lydia tried, sounding defeated. “Sweetie, listen,” the giantess bent down to Lydia’s level, “until Mommy thinks you’ve grown enough to leave, then this will be your room.” Lydia balked. The All-Mother was never going to let her go in the first place. “Please, I don’t want us to fight over this.” She sounded so sincere, so sweet. But Lydia wasn’t listening. It was all just glamour and enchantments, she was sure of it. No, I don’t think so… Lydia’s hazel eyes lit up as she dug deep for the very last of her mana. She obviously had no way to immobilize such a powerful being, but perhaps she’d get lucky and catch her off guard. She focused a hastening spell into her legs, tensing her muscles and pushing off—! Right into to the playmat, face first. “Ouch, son of a—!” she exclaimed, rolling around in excruciating pain, holding her bleeding nose. “Trying to run off without thinking about the consequences? You really are Aggie’s kid,” she chided, before easily grabbing Lydia by the waist, bringing her close. “Okay, let Mommy see your booboo.” “S-stop, let me go! What are you doing?!” Lydia shouted, thrashing wildly as she was mere inches away from the All-Mother’s face. What happened? Did my magic fail? Why did it fail? Oh, Cyric’s Tits, what is she going to do—! “Mwah!” Lydia stopped flailing. A moist wetness clung to her forehead, accompanied by a fuzzy feeling that made her feel giddy for a second. The absurdity of her own thoughts brought her out of it. Did she…Did she just kiss me on the head? What was the All-Mother even thinking? It’s not like a little kiss would…would. Huh? The young witch twitched her nose. No pain. The blood had dried up as well. She tugged at her sleeve. The cut from the orc’s blade was gone too. “What the…what did you do?” “I kissed your booboos better, Ly-Ly? What did you think I was going to do?” “I-uh, I’m not sure?” Lydia shook her head, feeling a bit sheepish, having imagined all kinds of reprimands. “No, nevermind that. How did you do that?! ”What do you mean, sweetie?” Lydia pouted. “Kisses. Don't. Cure. Wounds!” The All-Mother let out another wondrous laughter, scrambling Lydia’s thoughts, making her feel fuzzy and mushy again. “Silly baby. A Mommy’s kisses makes her babies feel all better! Everyone knows that.” She booped the young woman on the nose again, snapping her back to reality. Lydia was certain she was going insane. She couldn’t keep up with this conversation any longer, and threw her arms up in defeat, but then noticed the predicament she was currently in. In the young woman’s confusion, the giantess had taken the opportunity to sit down, holding Lydia firmly in her lap, making escape impossible. She felt an odd sensation of calmness wash over her as the All-Mother’s bodyheat filled her with warmth. Lydia could feel her eyes rolling into the back of her skull. In fact, it almost hurt the young witch to try and move away, as if she wanted nothing else than to be smothered in the giant’s embrace. “P-please let me go,” Lydia pleaded. “I don’t want this.” “Oh? And what is it that you want, sweetie?” she replied softly. “Go on, tell Mommy why you came here in the first place. Please?” It was less of a demand and more like gentle encouragement, but the firmness of the request felt compelling either way. Lydia sighed, but acquiesced. She wasn’t getting out from ‘Mommy’s’ lap anytime soon. “I want to learn the secrets of the ancient arts. To pursue greater heights of magic.” “I see,” the giantess nodded. “Anything else?” “To become a witch of great renown.” “I see,” she agreed, motioning for her to go on. Lydia quirked an eyebrow. “What else is there?” “Hmm, sounds like you have ambitious plans, sweetie,” the All-Mother said, “like so many other that came before you.” “Y-yeah?” “Mhm, they all finished their time with Mommy eventually, and went out to accomplish great things in the world.” The All-Mother looked almost melancholic, reminiscing of her previous charges. “They all had things they needed to work on, and grew in their own special little way. You see, Mommy doesn’t offer greatness, she offers growth. And that is different for everyone.” “I…see.” “And so, here you are. Guided by fate into my embrace.” Lydia wasn’t so sure about that however. In fact, she had started to suspect some foul play for a while now. But her mentor had apparently chosen this road as well, and Agnes’s Atelier was one of the most prominent ones in the lands, which is why Lydia sought to prove herself to her from the start after graduation. “I guess?” “By any chance…did Aggie not tell you how Mommy run things around here?” She smirked, almost certainly knowing the answer already. "Pfft, no? She kept her mouth really close about anything related to you. Had to practically drag it out of her,” Lydia said. Wait, was that the reason she shivered back then? ‘Good luck’ my ass! She knew exactly what I was in for. Oh, when I get my hands on that hag… “Oh, little Aggie,” The All-Mother interrupted, sighing to herself. “One too many spankings, and suddenly you’re too embarrassed to talk about your Mommy. Maybe I ought to remind her to visit me sometimes.” Lydia snorted at the mention of her old teacher being manhandled by the giantess, tears streaming down her face with a sore, red bum. “Alright, sweetheart,” the All-Mother turned Lydia around to face her. Lydia averted her gaze. “Mommy will tell you what you need to know, but no more running away, okay? I want you right here with me.” No promises… “Kay’” Lydia grumbled. “Good, now,” the All-Mother gestured to all around her, “this is Mommy’s home whenever she has new babies to take care of.” Lydia nodded her head. That did imply ‘Mommy’ lived somewhere else the rest of the time, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. “And this is the nursery where the baby a.k.a you, get to play and sleep all you want during your time here,” she smiled. “Any questions?” “Mhm, mhm,” Lydia nodded sagely. “Many, in fact, but let’s start with the obvious one.” “Yes?” “Why?” “Why, what, babygirl?” “That, precisely that,” Lydia squinted. “Why the odd treatment?” “I don’t follow.” Lydia felt like she was losing her minds, going around in circles like this. “Why treat your apprentices like babies? What does that achieve?!” “What a quirky question! Why treat babies like babies? You really are adorable Ly-Ly,” the All-Mother said, nuzzling her even closer. Lydia fought for dear life, but caught a whiff of the heavenly aroma emanating from the nape of the giantess’s neck, almost fainting from how pleasantly it smelled. It’s just glamours and enchantments, just glamours and enchantments… “No…I’m not a…child,” she said, sandwiched into the loving embrace, barely able to breathe. “I’m almost in my mid twenties.” “Oh I remember when I was in my second century, I was such a stinker. Drove my own mother mad back at the palace, haha!” the giantess reminisced. “‘Oh, what ever am I going to do with you, my little nimbus’, she used to say when I was running away from bathtime,” she said in a high-pitched voice. “Good times.” Lydia stared in disbelief. This being was a toddler when she was in her two-hundreds… The implications were endless, but it answered the question quite pointedly; compared to this being, everyone else was a baby. Lydia cleared her throat. “I see…well, with the anecdotal evidence presented before me, I can wager a guess then as to why this could be the case.” “Oh such big words! Good job, sweetie,” the All-Mother mused. “...Quite, yes but regardless of that evidence, I can assure you, I need no such treatment during my stay here.” If I even decide to hang around this lunatic for much longer… “Aha?” “So…it’s not necessary,” Lydia decided. “Oh really? Tell me more.” Oh now she was just pushing Lydia’s buttons, pretending she didn’t understand what she was trying to say. “I’m trying to tell you that I don’t need to be treated like a baby!” “That’s silly, sweetie.” “I just…just, daaah!" Lydia thrashed uselessly, trying to escape the giantess’s grasp, but to no avail. “Oh, someone’s overtired,” ‘Mommy’ cooed at her. “After I’ve changed you into something more comfortable, I think it’s best if we turn you in for the night. We can talk more in the morning at breakfast.” “No, no, no, no!” Lydia yelled, stomping her feet. “I’m not staying in this fudging nursery!” Hang on… “Why can’t I say ‘fudge’? I mean fudge! Fuuuuuuudge!” “Naughty words are a no-no, little girl,” the giantess chided. “The side-effects from the cube that disabled your casting, also makes sure you’re being a good baby.” “The cube did what?!” Lydia shrieked, trying to access her magic. Nothing. She could feel it sure, the little reserves she had left. It hadn’t disappeared, but she was completely unable to weave it into any form that could be called a spell. As if she was having a shouting match with her mana, but they spoke different languages all together. “I’ll let it slide this time, since you’re very tired,” the All-Mother said, “but enough stalling, it’s time to get changed and ready for bed.” The giantess started undressing Lydia with relative ease, despite the young witch objecting and thrashing in her grasp. She wore herself out eventually and her newly appointed Mommy made short work of Lydia’s robes, stripping her down to her unmentionables. “No, no! I don’t want to. Let me go!” “Alright, better get you onto the changing table before—” A hissing sound that seemed like it came from Lydia’s nethers cut through her words like a knife. The young woman felt one side of her leg get uncomfortably warm. Lydia looked down at the small pool of urine forming at her feet. This isn’t happening… She wanted to laugh hysterically, she wanted to scream out loud. She wanted to cry. She settled for all of the above. "Waaaaah!" “Oh no, no, babygirl, shh, shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. It was just a little accident. It’s Mommy’s fault, I should have gotten you into your diapers quicker. It’s okay.” The giantess’ soothing words fell on deaf ears as Lydia wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks, adding to the pool beneath. This is it. I’m going insane. I’m in hell and I’m insane! Lydia continued crying, delirious with exhaustion. Nan! I’m sorry for not visiting you more often when you got older—even if you were a complete nutcase! She barely noticed herself being wiped down. Jenna, I’m sorry for laughing at you when you couldn’t recite Varnell’s Third Law at the Academy! Whether by hands or magic, Lydia found herself lying down on the big changing table, underwear discarded and ankles in the air. Agnes…Well actually you just plain suck for blindsiding me like this. I hope you trip over your own feet everyday from now on… *crinkle* Lydia felt a shiver through her whole body as ‘Mommy’ slipped a thick, white diaper underneath her bottom. It was unbearably soft, like being enveloped in a fluffy, crinkly cloud. Another shiver. This time by the smell off the powder pouring down on her nethers, sparking up buried old memories from the back of her mind. “Almost done, babygirl,” Mommy cooed, snapping the tabs into place one by one. Kill me now… But her timely demise had to wait, as her hands and feet were guided into a baby-blue onesie. The giantess snapped it securely into place at the bottom, causing Lydia to bite her lip again as the diaper became even more snug around her. Lydia felt soft, and unwillingly peaceful all over, and she hated every second of it. “There we go! You’re all ready for bed, babygirl,” ‘Mommy’ said, easily carrying the exhausted Lydia into her bosoms, planting little kisses all over her. “Feels nice to be clean, huh?” “Uhhh,” Lydia ragdolled helplessly in her strong arms, her consciousness fading by the second. “Let’s get you in your crib, sweetie.” “Mhm,” Lydia couldn’t do anything but reluctantly agree. She wasn’t staying awake at this point. Maybe after a night’s rest, she could try reasoning with ‘Mommy’ in the morning, but for now, she just wanted to sleep and forget. “Ni-ni, sweetie. Mommy will see you in the morning, okay?” But Lydia was already fast asleep as soon as she hit the pillows. The crib’s comfort was everything it was attested to be. Like the diaper, it felt like sleeping on a big, puffy cloud. She never stood a chance. “Sweet dreams, Ly-Ly. Mommy loves you.” -
By Cute_Kitten · Posted
I always thought of AB and DL as a sliding spectrum. Kind of like the gender spectrum? LIke it can be sexual for some people- both AB and DL can be sexual, and how sexual it is can vary from person to person. And AB and DL can both also be not sexual at all for some people. And all of it is legit! IMO there is no right or wrong way to ABDL and you don't have to be AB or DL- you can be any mix of them. Like I'm mostly DL but I have some AB in there as well. maybe 60/40ish for me? My two cents is just do whatever feels right for you! -
I'd argue Baby *is* right there in the label A[dult] B[aby]. -
Alright folks, start your fappin' engines. Proud of this. I'll provide an update about the cliffhanger(?) depending on what people think 😉 Chapter 8 Jacob was overwhelmed by the absurdity of the day, and now the packages had finally arrived. Feeling as if his ability to reason was slipping away verbally, he too was feeling it mentally with the overwhelming weight of the situation compounding without any downtime to breath, let alone get away from it all. The sight of Lana opening the box made set his nerves completely off. Instantly, he hurried on his tip toes down the hall in retreat. Barely a thought other than to reason “fight or flight”, and he chose flight, but it certainly wasn’t an escape. He rushed into his bedroom and shut the door and stood there, confused and unsure of his next move. “Oh sweetie, where did you go?” Lana called from down the hallway. “It’s okay, baby, Mommy’s coming!” Lana carried the big boxes to the outside of his room and knocked, heading back for the last few items and returning to see Jacob did not open his door. She barges in and sees Jacob sulking on his bed in a restrained state of defeat, confusion, and embarrassment. He remained motionless while Lana brought boxes into the room and placed them on the bed right beside him. The packages sat on the bed like an accusation. Lana decided to give him a bit of space from the barrage of comments for a moment. There was silence and Lana waited until Jacob might say something, but he didn’t— “Jacob, stop sulking about your diapers,” Lana interrupted the brief peaceful quieted room boldly, “we don’t want you getting a diaper rash, do we?” Another deliberate, emasculating statement. Deliberately, he was sure of it now, because she did everything deliberately—before sliding the scissors along the tape of the first large box. It opened with a cardboard sigh, and Lana ripped open one of the four sealed packages from within: fresh plastic, sharp and clean, and underneath it something faintly sweet, like powder that hadn't been poured yet, the ever-so familiar scent of a baby diaper. His baby diapers. "Oh," Lana breathed, and there was genuine delight in it as she took out one of the diapers that could make a Pampers look like a medical brand. "Oh my goodness, these are even cuter than the pictures." She lifted the first one out and held it up to the light, and Jacob's stomach dropped through the floor. The design of the diaper was especially babyish. Pale blues and pastels with little cartoon blocks scattered across the front, stars, a smiling cartoon giraffe wearing a bowtie. The plastic backing was glossy, catching the afternoon sun through the window, and the padding—God, the padding—was visibly thicker than anything she'd put him in before. It looked even thicker than the two medical diapers he was currently wearing. Another noticeable heightened feeling hit him while he remained in a state of shock. "So thick," she murmured, squeezing it between her fingers, and the thing crinkled—a bright, plasticky *krrrk* that filled the quiet room. "Somebody's bottom is going to be very, very padded." *The old ones felt babyish enough,* Jacob thought, standing there with his soaking wet diaper under his pants, his face already burning at the thought of what was next. *The old ones were white. Plain. Medical. These—there's no alibi for these. These are diapers for big babies. Everyone knows what these are.* She dropped the stack onto the bed. It landed with a heavy *whump*, substantial, a real weight. *He thinks the diapers were the destination,* Lana thought, smoothing her hand over the top of the stack. *He has no idea they're the foundation.* Lana then pulled something from the box he hadn’t seen her order – a changing pad that was a similar design as the diapers. It was large, it was childish, it was ridiculous. He hadn’t seen her order it. Was it some sort of freebie? She unfolded it and laid it down on the bed with a snap of vinyl. Lana arranged the supplies in a neat row where he could see them—wipes, powder, and the new diaper, sitting there with its little giraffe smirking up at the ceiling. Lana felt ready. It was time for the next step for her pathetic stepson and she grabbed both of Jacob’s hands. She pulled him out of his statuesque slump in one quick motion and he stood up reluctantly, turning away from her gaze. “Look at me, baby.” She said sternly, “Mommy bought you these diapers because you need them.” “I don’t need this, Lana!” Jacob exploded, “I feel like I’m… being manipulated! And.. I’m trapped! I don’t know what to say or think and…” "That diapee's all used up, isn’t it?" she interrupted, pulling his pants down and fully off, patting the front of his swollen crotch before giving it a squeeze. This caught Jacob’s attention, interrupting his potential tangent with Lana acting like it wasn’t happening. His slight squirm using the term ‘diapee’ caught Lana’s own attention. “If you didn’t need this, wouldn’t you be in big boy underwear right now?” Lana tried to corner him, “wouldn’t you be using the potty, and not wetting diapers and having Mommy change?” Jacob winced again at her talking to him like a baby. It was so emasculating and embarrassing and left him feeling helpless to say anything, and more and more helpless to think of something to get out of all of this. Trapped, just as had admitted to himself. “Jacob, seriously,” Lana’s tone changed, “You’ve literally conceded to the comfort of giving in to the diaper changes. Your protests have been half-baked at best, though I guess that shouldn’t surprise anyone.” “That’s not true! I really don’t want this!” Jacob cried, “I can be a grown up, I’ll stop being lazy!” Jacob tried one last attempt, turning to the items on the bed and then pack to Lana. It was hard to get those words into a proper sentence the last few days. It was something he should have said at the beginning of all of this before it spiralled. He could have followed up with cleaning his room, maybe doing the laundry, showing her an updated resume. But his mind was sadly just thinking about this now, too late before the arrival of the new items arrived to potentially seal his fate. “You’ve acted like a brat for too long, and now you are going to be treated appropriately.” Lana declared, “We both knew this needed to be done the first time you let me change you. It was too easy getting you into that first diaper.” Jacob came to the sudden realization that Lana could be right. He let out a pathetic whimper and felt utter defeat as his head became heavy, his legs weak. Naturally, he found himself leaning into Lana’s bare chest.” “Aww, come here baby,” Lana cooed and held him close, finding comfort in his warmth as he did her’s. “Mommy’s here”. She held him there in silence for at least a minute, letting his sniffling subside, and Jacob finally felt it – the room to breath. A few moments where he didn’t feel engulfed by the weight of the world and embarrassment of being treated not just less than a man or as a lazy teenager, but as his stepmom’s infant. Finally, the moment of peace and reprieve – but it wasn’t an escape from it all, it was an embrace. Jacob’s solace is interrupted. Lana abruptly moves on to the task at hand. “Now, lay down, baby,” she cooed. “It’s time for your diaper change.” She gently guided him down on the changing mat, the padded vinyl cool against his bare back, the crinkle adding to the thought, and fact, that he was going to be changed like a baby. He lay back, focussed on his breathing and attempting to relax the tension throughout his body. The ceiling had a hairline crack he'd memorized, and he stared at it like it might open up and swallow him. Lana retrieved the diaper that was beside Jacob’s hip. The moment she unfolded it, the soft, powdery sweetness bloomed into the air so strongly—baby powder and fresh plastic, that unmistakable nursery scent that first permeated the room when the package was first pried open. The open garment smell was so nostalgic, he had no idea a scent could make him feel so embarrassed and regressed. He had worried about his wet diaper’s powder scent all day, hoping Lana had accidently used too much, now he had to worry about the nursery scent of the diaper itself. The thoughts of being out in these baby diapers bringing the reality of it all closer. His brief sense of comfort was fleeing rapidly. He felt a flush of warmth and his face burned red before she'd even touched him. She shook the oversized Pamper open with a practiced flick of her wrists, and the thing crinkled obscenely, loud enough to fill the quiet room. These were very noticeably different than the medical diapers. The backing a glossy white with scattered pastel building blocks and smiling cartoon giraffes in soft blues and yellows—designs meant for an actual baby, not a grown man. She held it up just long enough for him to see it, to really see it—the thick, cloud-like padding between the leg gatherings, the pale blue wetness indicator strip running down the center, the stretchy elastic leg bands gathered in soft ruffles designed to hug tight around his thighs and seal everything in. The two tapes were oversized, babyish, printed with little stars. "See how thick it is?" she murmured, folding it back on itself so he could hear the padding compress with a dense, cushioned whumpf. "This is going to feel so different wrapped around you, baby. All soft, snug and so crinkly." She slid it under him in one smooth motion, the cool powder-scented padding settling beneath his wet double-diapered bum, and the leg bands flopped open on either side of his thighs like they were already waiting to close around him. The first tape peeled with a loud *skrrrch*. "Let's get this icky old diapee off my baby boy," Lana sang, unhurried. *Skrrrch.* The second tape. *Skrrrch, skrrrch.* She took her time with each one, letting every rip of adhesive land. Then, the sodden bulk was peeled forward, cool air rushing over skin that had been trapped in humid warmth. The smell hit her immediately—sharp, acrid pee cutting through the lingering talcum and lavender of the old powder, the smell not unlike when the passed by the public family restroom earlier. She didn't comment on it. She didn't have to. The first wipe dragged cold across his inner thigh and Jacob sucked in a breath through his teeth. The wipes were cold. He hissed through his teeth, hips twitching, and she just cooed at him—"I know, I know, chilly"—and she wiped him for expert care, more care than the last few changes, making Jacob shiver and twitch. And that was when she noticed it—his cock, half-hard already and thickening traitorously against his stomach, flushed darker than the rest of him, twitching once when the wipe passed too close to the base. *Don't stare. Clean him. Don't stare.* She fixed her eyes somewhere around his navel and kept working. One wipe, dropped into the waiting shell of the used diaper underneath his swelling member. Two, folded and placed on top. Three, for the crease of his thigh where the skin was pink and tender and shifting him for wipes under his bum and his crack, startling him. Four, drawn slow and thorough over his balls while he made a strangled sound high in his throat, hips twitching up off the mat before he caught himself and forced them still. The fifth wipe, strokes meant for cleaning, not for pleasure. *Please stop, please stop, please—* His hands had come up to cover his face without him deciding to do it. She was finished cleaning him. "Oh, somebody's got nothing to say now, huh?" Lana cooed, gathering the used diaper, instructing him to lift. Sliding it under him, its cargo of wipes into a tight, rustling ball, while his bottom dropped onto the babyish softness of the new diaper. "That's alright. Mommy's got you. Mommy's got her sweet boy all taken care of." Jacob, yet again stuck in his stupor of feeling too many emotions all at once, again attempted to get his breath back in rhythm while she reached for the next item, his excited self trying to not embarrass himself further. Then came the lotion—a fat white bottle with a pastel lamb on the label, the kind of thing that belonged on a changing table in some other life entirely, certainly not this one. Lana flipped the cap and squeezed a thick ribbon onto her palm, warming it between her hands for exactly four seconds, no more, before smoothing it over his crotch in slow, deliberate circles. Jacob's whole body went rigid. "Shhh, shhh. Just relax." Her thumbs worked the crease of his thighs, slick and unhurried, spreading the cream everywhere the diaper had pressed and chafed. The smell bloomed up between them immediately—another strong scent that could do nothing but add to the unmistakable nursery sweetness. The baby lotion was powder-soft and cloying, the kind of scent that announced itself before a person even entered a room mixing with the even stronger scent of the open bag of his new diapers. She worked it under his balls, over the tender skin of his hips, then pressed a palm flat against his lower belly and dragged it upward, slow, all the way to his chest. "Even up here," she murmured, circling his nipples with lotion-slick fingers while he stared at the ceiling like it might finally open and save him. "My baby smells like a baby everywhere.” She said in a sing-song voice, “isn’t it just so wonderful?” Everywhere. She's doing this on purpose. She has to be doing this on purpose. She flipped him with a hand on his hip—casual, effortless, like he weighed nothing—and lotion disappeared down the cleft of his bum, her fingers kneading each cheek with the same maddening thoroughness, working cream into skin that hadn't seen open air in hours. His face burned against the mat despite it feeling good in a way he had never expected. His cock, trapped beneath him, throbbed against the padded inner softness with every press of her thumbs. Then the powder. She didn't sprinkle it. She poured. A pale cloud puffed up off his backside, then another over his front when she rolled him back, the sweet talcum-lavender haze drifting up into the lamplight like stage fog. She shook the bottle over his chest, his stomach, the tops of his thighs—patting it in with big, soft sweeps of her hand until his skin was matte and pale and fragrant, until every breath he pulled in tasted like it. "Lots and lots," she sang, giving the bottle one last shake for theater. "Mommy doesn't do anything halfway." Jacob lay there coated in it, cheeks flaming and the smell so thick around him it felt like it had weight. *It's in my hair. It's in the carpet. My whole room is going to smell like a nursery by the time she's done—* Lana lifted the fresh diaper between his knees, fluffed it open with a soft *whumpf*, and smiled down at him like she could read every word scrolling behind his eyes. Lana paused for a minute with the front of the diaper in her hands. Powder drifted down in lazy spirals, and with it went the last of Jacob's treacherous arousal—his penis softening, shrinking back against the powdered plain of his groin as if it, too, understood the verdict. Lana noticed. Of course she noticed. Her eyebrow arched, and the corner of her mouth curled with pure, undisguised amusement. "Aw," she cooed, "good timing, sweetie." Jacob made a sound low in his throat—half groan, half whimper—and turned his face toward the wall. Then came the moment. Lana took the front panel of the LittleComfort diaper between her fingers—thick, plush, the pastel blocks with the smiling giraffes marching cheerfully across the plastic—and drew it up between his legs in one slow, deliberate pull. The padding rose over his crotch like a tide, swallowing him whole, enveloping everything in soft, crinkling finality. She pressed the panel flat against his belly with her palm, smoothing it once, twice, savoring the rustle. Then the first tape. *Rrrrip.* Peeled back. Pressed down. Smoothed firm with two fingers. Sealed. The second tape. *Rrrrip.* Same ritual. Tighter. Jacob felt each one like a stamp on a document. Like a lock clicking. Like a signature on a contract he never agreed to sign. The diaper was on—really, truly on—not a pharmacy stopgap but the real thing, the baby thing, ordered in bulk off the internet by his stepmom while he sat crying in a wet diaper. His fate had arrived by Prime delivery, and now it was taped snug around his hips. "Up you get, sweetheart." Lana helped him off the mat with a hand under his elbow, and the padding forced his stance wide the instant his feet touched carpet. She steered him—one hand on the small of his back—toward the full-length mirror on the closet door. Jacob was stunned— he had been distressed by the crinkling of his old diapers, but this was a whole other level of crinkle, looking down at the diaper. Then he looked up. "Mommy wants you to see." His mouth fell open. The man in the mirror was gone. In his place stood something absurd: a grown manchild in a fat, gleaming white diaper with pastel nursery prints, the waistband riding high, the padding ballooning between his thighs so thickly that his knees would have a hard time touching. Smelling of the lotion and powder dusted his chest. His hair stuck up in tufts. He looked silly. He looked small. He looked exactly like what she kept calling him. And while his mouth hung open in horror—Lana struck. She plucked the oversized blue pacifier from the opened package he had remembered her ordering and pressed the fat silicone nipple past his lips before he could close them, popping it in with a soft plip. Her fingers held it there, gentle and immovable, for three long seconds while his eyes went huge in the mirror. Then she let go. It stayed. Of course it stayed. His lips closed around it reflexively, the shield resting against his cheeks, and his reflection completed itself. Lana's hands settled on his shoulders. She leaned in beside his ear, both of them facing the mirror, and her smile was the most satisfied thing he'd ever seen on another human being. "Aww, look at Mommy's big baby." The End? …… …… …… …… [The garden next door — 4:15 PM] Amanda knelt in the cool earth, pruning shears in hand, the smell of cut stems and damp soil all around her. The roses were overreaching again. She snipped, and snipped, and let the afternoon go quiet. The breeze shifted. She caught a scent—sweet, powdery, distinct. Baby powder. Out of place here, drifting over the fence like it belonged to the air itself. She paused. Looked up. Lana's house. The upstairs window was open, curtains shifting in and out with the wind, pale and billowing. Amanda frowned slightly, tilted her head. She stood there a moment longer, the shears loose in her hand, the scent already fading off the breeze. Then she knelt back down among the roses and returned to her work. But the image stayed—the open window, the powder smell, something was up, and she was going to keep digging until she found out what—turning itself over quietly in the back of her mind as the shears went *snip, snip, snip*. She stood up, another full basket of cucumbers over her shoulder, and wondered aloud, " “Is Jacob back in diapers?” ---
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