Trading Post

It's one thing to run into someone you knew before ending up in the Diaper Dimension but to run into an ex and for her to think you're dickless.... honestly, you'd think that she would have an ounce of sympathy, but no; she's a bitch. Well, Lucas either has Hazel arrange play dates to keep himself grounded in his goal to get back home or this is a brief glimpse into his past life. With that said, I do get why she's a bit envious of Lucas... depending on the adoption center it was either bare bones and poor, ran by robots or just a neverending nightmare of perspective parents to be paraded around in front of. Still, to end up in the DD naked... she was fucked before the light faded away...

Thanks.  I didn't do criminal law, but I saw a lot of probation officers around the country courthouse.  Designer suits we're not their thing.  

Love the new character Sadie

Oh hey! Welcome to DD! I love 2 counties over in York. 

Chapter 10 : Mrs. Turner returned a moment later, pushing what at first glance looked like an ordinary high chair—but as it came fully into view, Jack’s stomach sank. It was anything but ordinary. Brightly colored and unmistakably childish, it was decorated from top to bottom with Dino Dan characters, the cheerful cartoon dinosaurs splashed across the tray, the seat padding, even the straps.   Jack’s expression tightened immediately. Of all things, that show. He had always hated it—the exaggerated voices, the over-the-top adventures, the endless stream of imitators it had inspired. Seeing it now, up close and meant for him, made his face burn with embarrassment and frustration.   “I’m not sitting in that,” he muttered under his breath, though the words came out softer than he intended.   Mrs. Turner didn’t argue. She simply placed a hand on the back of the chair and looked at him expectantly. “Jack,” she said calmly, “you can climb into the chair now, or I will start counting to three.”   That was all it took.   Jack froze. His mind immediately jumped to what “three” meant. He didn’t need a reminder. The sting from earlier still lingered, and the thought of going through that again—especially with only his diaper for protection—made his stomach twist.   With a reluctant, awkward shuffle, he stepped forward. Each movement felt heavier than the last, like he was walking toward something unavoidable. He climbed up into the high chair, his face flushed as he settled into the seat. The padding crinkled softly beneath him as he shifted.   Jill stepped in right away, efficient and matter-of-fact. She pulled the tray into place and snapped it securely, the sound loud and final. Jack gave a small, futile tug against it, but it didn’t budge.   At the same time, Marcus moved to the nearby table, setting things up with quiet precision. He opened a couple of small jars—thick, pureed contents that could only be baby food—and placed them within reach. Beside them, he set a bottle filled with a pale liquid.   Jack stared at it, clinging to a small shred of hope.   Please let that be milk, he thought, watching as everything was arranged in front of him, the reality of the situation settling in deeper with every passing second.   Marcus was ready this time. The moment Jill picked up the spoon, he raised the camera, already recording, clearly not wanting to miss a second of what was about to happen.   Jill leaned in close, her tone shifting into an exaggerated, sing-song cadence. “Okay, here we go… open up for me,” she cooed, gently tapping the spoon against the edge of the jar to get Jack’s attention.   Jack turned his head away, his face tightening with resistance. He tried to speak—tried to protest—but the instant his mouth opened, Jill was quicker. The spoon slipped in before he could get a single word out.   The taste hit him immediately.   It was thick, mushy, and unmistakably baby food—green, bland, and vaguely unpleasant. Jack couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be. Peas? Some kind of vegetable mix? Whatever it was, it made his stomach churn. He grimaced, trying to pull away, but Jill stayed patient and persistent.   “Aww, there we go… such a good boy,” she continued, undeterred.   Another spoonful followed. Then another.   Jack tried to keep his lips shut, but every small attempt to argue or complain only gave Jill another opening. Before long, small smears of green food dotted his cheeks and chin, some of it wiped clumsily by the spoon, the rest collecting on the front of his bib.   Behind the camera, Marcus struggled to keep steady. A quiet snort escaped him, and he had to turn slightly to hide his grin. Mrs. Turner wasn’t much better—her lips pressed together, shoulders lifting slightly as she tried to contain her amusement.   “Come on, Jack,” she added, her voice light but firm. “You need to eat all of it.”   With their encouragement—and Jill’s persistence—Jack had little choice. Spoonful after spoonful, the jars slowly emptied. By the time the second one was finished, Jack sat slumped slightly in the high chair, his face messy, his pride thoroughly worn down.   Finally, Jill set the empty jars aside.   Marcus stepped forward with the bottle.   Jack’s eyes immediately locked onto it. Without thinking, he reached out, eager—almost desperate—for something familiar, something better than what he had just endured.   But Marcus was quicker.   He gently but firmly intercepted Jack’s hands before they could grasp it. “Ah, not so fast,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve got it. You’ll get used to being fed like this.”   Jack hesitated, frustration flickering across his face, but it faded quickly. He didn’t argue. Not this time.   Instead, he allowed Marcus to guide the bottle to his mouth.   The moment the nipple touched his lips, he latched on instinctively.   Relief washed over him almost instantly.   Milk.   Warm, familiar, and comforting.   His body relaxed as he drank, the tension leaving his shoulders. A small, involuntary smile formed around the bottle as he continued nursing, the earlier unpleasantness fading into the background. He didn’t even want to consider the alternative—if this had been formula instead…   He focused only on the taste, the rhythm, the quiet comfort of it.   As he drank, his body loosened further, the calm settling deeper than he expected. Without really thinking about it, without any attempt to stop it, he felt the warmth spread through his diaper.   He froze for a split second… then said nothing.   Mrs. Turner noticed, of course. She always did.   “Well done, Jack,” she said warmly, stepping closer. “You finished all your food. Such a good job.” Her expression softened as she looked him over. “You really do make such a cute baby.”   Jack didn’t respond.   He kept his eyes down, focused on the bottle, continuing to nurse quietly. The world around him felt distant for a moment—muted.   And somewhere in that quiet, drifting space, his thoughts wandered… imagining, just briefly, what it might be like if this wasn’t temporary. If this was simply his life now.   He didn’t know whether that thought comforted him… or scared him.