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I'm happy I gave it a try! 😊 Things have changed so much since then.

I'll be 73 next month and my age has made it so much easier to wear diapers. I've always had issues with wetting. I was a bedwetter until 17 years old and had daytime issues which I learned to hide. I was in my 30's the first time I wore a Depends diaper outside the home and it caused my anxiety to spike. I wasn't wearing it out to use it I was wearing it to satisfy my fetish for diapers. Now I'm 24/7 and there's no anxiety or worries about someone finding out. I don't try to be obvious about being in diapers but I don't go overboard trying to hide them either, they're just my underwear. Hugs, Freta

Thanks for this. I do think it’s time to bring up regression with my therapist. I feel like I’m starting to feel ready, but wanting to ease into this and maybe wait to bring up diapers specifically until I see the conversation is going. i do think I’ve been finding more for male that diapers and age regression are a comfort tool and seem to work well for me in the right level of moderation. I’ve been finding dropping an all or nothing attitude about diapers is helping and now finding wearing coming with less shame and more being able to relax and sleep a whole lot better than I usually do not diapered. i do feel some loneliness because of trying I find like minded people in the community. I do think this has been shifting from kink to coping mechanism the past couple weeks. My bad experience with the non-kink group shaming me because I mentioned diapers still sticks with me. I do think I did the right thing to quietly leave when I got a reaction that showed that wasn’t the right space, but now I’m not sure what is the right one for me.

My name is Amy. I’m in my early forties, with long dark hair that falls in soft waves past my shoulders and deep brown eyes that have seen more quiet longing than most. I’ve always been told I carry myself with a warm, attractive grace—but lately there’s a new strength in me, a certainty that settled in the moment I finally understood the man I’d married. The Conversation Between Us I sat beside him on the edge of our bed one evening, speaking softly but firmly. “I see you,” I told him. “I see how you relax when I choose for you, how you breathe easier when you don’t have to be strong. You don’t want to be the man of this house, do you?” He looked down, cheeks flushing pink, voice trembling. “I’m sorry… I never wanted to be big. It feels… heavy. All of it. I just want to be small. Held. Cared for.” “And the clothes?” I asked gently. “The things you hide. The soft fabrics, the frills, the satin and lace?” He nodded, eyes glistening. “It feels like… home. Like I’m who I was always meant to be. A sweet little baby girl. But I’m ashamed. I’m a grown man, and I want to wear nappies and dresses and ribbons in my hair.” “Then let’s stop being ashamed,” I said, brushing hair from his face. “From now on, you don’t have to hide. You’ll be my precious baby girl. I’ll dress you, care for you, make all the hard decisions. But you must be honest with me—about everything.” That was when he whispered the rest. About how small he was. That even fully grown, he measured barely two-and-a-half inches, and around so slim it hardly seemed there at all. That intimacy had always been a source of shame, never pleasure. “I can never give you what you need,” he said, voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Amy. I’m so sorry.” I held him. “We’ll find a way,” I told him. “But things will change. You’ll be my baby, and I’ll be the one in charge. Do you accept that?” He melted into my arms. “Yes. Please. Call me Lily. That’s the name I’ve always loved.” Amy Speaks to Janice A few days later I met my friend Janice for lunch, and told her everything. I told her about Lily, about the nappies and dresses and ribbons, about how peaceful he looked in soft pink, about the nursery and the crib. And then I told her the harder part—about our marriage bed, about his size, about how we’d never truly been together. Janice’s eyes went wide. At first she laughed—loud, startled laughter—then her hand went to her mouth in shock, and then she leaned forward, fascinated. “Oh, Amy… I never would have guessed. He always seemed so quiet… but this? He’s not your husband anymore, is he? He’s your little girl.” “More every day,” I said. “And he’s happier. But I’m still a woman, Janice. I want what I’ve never had.” Janice nodded, serious now. “Then take it. He can’t give it to you—and he doesn’t want to be the one who does. He wants to be your baby. So you find yourself a real man. Tall, broad, strong… and well-endowed. Someone who can fill you the way you deserve. Bring him home. Let Lily see that her place is with you as your child, not as your lover. Cuckold him, Amy. Open his eyes—and yours.” We went shopping that afternoon. Janice helped me pick out dresses that clung to my curves, satin lingerie that felt like silk against my skin, stockings, suspenders, everything that made me feel every inch a desirable woman. Then she helped me set up my profile. “Be honest,” she said. “The right man won’t run. He’ll be intrigued.” The Second Date with Des I met Des soon after. Tall, broad-shouldered, handsome, with dark eyes and a warm, steady smile. He was confident, masculine in every way that Lily was soft and gentle. On our second date, over dinner, I told him everything. “I need to be honest with you,” I began. “I’m married. But my husband… he doesn’t want to be my husband anymore. He wants to be my baby girl. We call him Lily now. He lives in a nursery we made from the spare room, sleeps in a large crib. Right now, he’s at home wearing a sheer pale pink babydoll nightdress—short, frilly, lace-trimmed—thick cloth nappies, and over them pretty ruffled pink knickers lined with plastic to keep him dry. His hair is long now, tied back with pink ribbons. He sucks a dummy and carries a plush toy everywhere.” I paused, then told him the rest. “And physically… he’s very small. He can never satisfy me. I want a real man, Des. Someone strong, someone who can give me what I’ve been missing. If you come to my house, you’ll see Lily. He’ll be there. He’ll know exactly why you’re there.” Des listened without interrupting. When I finished, he leaned forward, voice low and steady. “Thank you for trusting me. Lily sounds sweet—and he’s lucky to have you. And Amy… I’m exactly what you’re looking for. Come home with me, and I’ll show you.” Janice Babysits — Des Comes Over A week later, I invited Des to the house. Janice came over too, to sit with Lily—or rather, to watch, and laugh, and help me settle him before Des arrived. We went into the nursery. Lily was lying in his crib, sucking happily on his dummy, clutching a soft pink bear. He was exactly as I’d described: sheer pale pink nightdress falling to his hips, frilly at the hem, over a thick, bulky cloth nappy that made his little shape round and babyish. Over the nappy he wore those pretty ruffled pink knickers, smooth and rustling, lined with translucent plastic. His hair was in two long pigtails tied with satin ribbons. “Look at you,” Janice giggled, leaning over the crib rail. “Pretty little Lily. All dressed up and waiting for Mummy.” Lily blushed, but didn’t remove his dummy. He looked up at me with wide, trusting eyes. I reached into the crib and slid my fingers gently along the leg openings of his nappy. It was warm—and very wet. Lily squirmed, cheeks turning bright pink, and I felt him hardening beneath my touch, small and unmistakable. “Oh my,” I teased, smiling. “Someone’s a little excited, aren’t they? But we can’t leave our sweet girl in a wet nappy now, can we?” Janice laughed openly as I untied the ribbons, pulled down his frilly knickers, and unpinned the soaked cloth. When I peeled it away, his small, delicate body was exposed—tiny, pink, and hard, barely visible at all. Janice covered her mouth, then laughed again, soft and bright. “Oh Amy… he really is perfect, isn’t he? Just a tiny little thing. Poor baby.” Lily whimpered and buried his face in his hands, but I kissed his forehead. “It’s all right, sweetie. You’re perfect just as you are. Now—be a good girl. Mummy has a visitor. You’ll watch, and you’ll be good, won’t you?” He nodded quickly. I didn’t change him—not yet. Instead I pulled a fresh dry nappy loosely into place and dressed him again in his frilly knickers, then wheeled the crib from the nursery down the hall and into our large master bedroom. Des Arrives — Everything Changes Des walked in, tall and broad, filling the doorway. He saw the crib beside the bed, saw Lily peeking out, wide-eyed and blushing, and then looked at me. I saw his gaze travel over Lily’s little outfit, over the ribbons and lace, and he smiled—not with mockery, but with knowing warmth. “Hello, Lily,” he said, voice deep and calm. Lily stared, then quickly looked away, clutching his bear tighter. I turned to Des, and as I began to undress, he did the same. I watched his strong hands remove his shirt, his trousers, and then—Janice stood in the doorway, watching, hand over her mouth—Des stood before us fully revealed. He was magnificent: tall, broad, and his manhood rose thick and proud, long and heavy, far larger than Lily could ever imagine. I caught my breath, knowing that soon he would be mine. I climbed onto the bed, and Des joined me. Everything that followed was powerful, overwhelming, and everything I had longed for. I felt every inch of him, deep and filling, stretching me in ways I had never known possible. I cried out, my body arching beneath him, waves of pleasure sweeping through me as he moved with strength and rhythm, giving me everything he had. Beside us, in his crib, Lily watched. I looked over once and saw him—eyes wide, knuckles pressed to his mouth beneath his dummy, face flushed bright red. I reached down, pulled off my own damp satin panties, and gently slipped them over his head, drawing the fabric so the warm, fragrant crotch rested right over his nose. He inhaled, deep and shaky, and then I pushed his dummy back between his lips. “Smell that, baby,” I whispered. “Smell Mummy. This is what a real man gives me. This is what you never could.” Lily breathed me in, eyes rolling back, sucking his dummy harder than ever, his small body trembling in time to my cries. The bed creaked and shook, the headboard thudding against the wall, and Des drove deeper still, burying himself completely, filling me to the hilt. I cried out my lover’s name, over and over, my body shattering again and again in waves of pure, overwhelming bliss. Beside me, Lily lay quiet and obedient, wrapped in my scent, watching the man take his wife in a way he never could. When it was over, Des held me. And in the crib beside us, my sweet little Lily lay quiet and still, his eyes half-closed, his face still wrapped in my satin, his dummy still in his mouth. He looked up at me, and I leaned down and kissed his forehead. ........................................................................................................ Afterward, Des sat on the edge of the bed, still bare and magnificent, and crooked a finger toward the crib. “Come here, little Lily,” he rumbled, his voice deep and firm. “Mummy’s baby girl needs to learn her manners, don’t you think?” Lily froze, eyes wide, his face still flushed pink beneath the damp satin covering his head. He looked to me, uncertain, and I nodded calmly. “Go on, sweetie. Be a good girl for Des. He’s going to teach you how to behave properly.” Trembling all over, Lily climbed shakily from the crib, clutching his frilly nightdress around himself. He stood small and shy before Des, tiny against his broad frame, his little erection still peeking out from beneath the lace hem. Des reached out, caught Lily gently by the arm, and turned him right over his lap—so Lily lay draped across his powerful thighs, his feet dangling, his face toward the floor. “There now,” Des said, steadying him with one large hand pressed firmly between Lily’s shoulder blades. “Nice and secure. You’re going to take this like the good little girl you are, aren’t you?” Lily whimpered, his hands fisting against the carpet, and nodded quickly. Des reached down and lifted the back of Lily’s sheer pink nightdress, then the frilly lace-trimmed knickers beneath, baring his soft, pale bottom to the air. “Such pretty pink skin,” Des murmured, and then—whap!—his open palm landed firmly, warm and stinging, right across Lily’s rounded cheeks. Lily yelped, high and startled, his whole body jerking across Des’s lap. “One,” Des said calmly. Whap! “Two.” Whap! Whap! Whap! Firm, even, rhythmic smacks landed one after another—stinging, bright, and impossible to ignore. Lily squirmed and kicked his stockinged feet, his face turning bright red, and little gasps and whimpers spilled from him. I stood nearby, arms folded, smiling warmly, while Janice leaned in the doorway beside me, both of us giggling openly. “Look at him,” Janice whispered, half-laughing. “Red as a cherry! Serves the little thing right. All those frills and ribbons and he still needs a firm hand.” Des kept it up, steady and unrelenting. “This is what happens when you watch what isn’t for you, little one. You sit quietly in your crib. You mind Mummy. And you remember exactly who’s the man in this house now.” Another round of crisp spanks, and Lily’s bottom was glowing bright pink, warm and smooth beneath Des’s hand. He was squirming harder now, tiny hips shifting, little whimpers turning into soft, tearful sniffles—but he didn’t fight back. He couldn’t. Des was far too big, far too strong, and Lily lay completely helpless, pinned gently but firmly across those powerful thighs. “Please… please…” Lily whimpered, his voice tiny and teary. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” “Good,” Des said, giving one last firm, playful smack that made Lily jump. “You remember that apology. And you remember who’s in charge.” He smoothed Lily’s knickers and nightdress back down, then lifted Lily gently upright and set him on his feet. Lily stood there swaying, eyes wet and shiny, cheeks flushed bright red, bottom stinging warm beneath his frilly clothes. He looked up at Des—huge, broad, still magnificent—and then down at the floor, trembling all over, his tiny erection still bobbing helplessly despite the tears. “Say thank you,” I told him gently. Lily sniffled, wiped his eyes with a fist, and whispered, “Th-thank you… sir…” Des chuckled, reached down, and ruffled Lily’s hair—soft, condescending, amused. “Good girl. Now get back in your crib. And keep those pretty hands to yourself unless you’re told otherwise.” Lily scurried back to the crib, clambered in, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He lay there still pink-cheeked, eyes wide and shiny, stinging and flustered and thoroughly humiliated—and yet strangely, visibly calmed. He knew his place now. He knew exactly how small he was, exactly how much power Des held, and exactly where he belonged: quiet, obedient, and watched over. Janice wiped her eyes, still laughing softly. “Oh, he took it beautifully! Red bottom and teary eyes and not a single word of protest. Perfect little sissy baby, isn’t he?” I looked over at the crib, at Lily peeking out from beneath the blanket, and smiled. “Perfect,” I agreed. “Now he knows exactly what happens when he needs reminding.” Would you like me to continue from here—perhaps moving into Emily’s first visits and what she tells her friends?       “Good girl,” I whispered. “My sweet, perfect baby girl. Mummy’s got you now.” And for the first time in our lives, we were both exactly where we belonged. Would you like me to continue the story from here, or focus on any particular moment or character in more detail?

Here's part eight of me and Welpsayori2.0's rp. Hope you like it. 😱😡😨😠 The automated system's mechanical claws worked with ruthless efficiency, enforcing its corrupted, permanent nursery protocol across the entire room. 18 thrashing against the high chair's reinforced restraints was entirely futile. The chair, engineered out of dense alien alloys originally designed by Capsule Corp to hold hyper-advanced mechanical prototypes, completely absorbed her cybernetic leverage. Above her, a pair of mechanical shears descended, methodically snipping her signature sleek blonde locks short into a blunt, childish bowl cut. 18’s sapphire eyes flared with absolute, furious hatred behind her locked pacifier, but clamped down under ten layers of immovable padding and ultra-dense restraints, she couldn't move an inch. Beside her, Bulma sobbed helplessly into her pink pacifier as another set of shears made quick work of her blue pigtails, cropping them into an uneven, babyish stubble. The utter humiliation of her own backfired invention—combined with the horrifying realization that they were trapped here for a full month until an automated text reached Panchy—overwhelmed her completely. On the floor, Videl and Chi-Chi were kept pinned side-by-side on their hands and knees, heavy mechanical arms pressing down on their lower backs to force them into a crawling posture. Videl's eyes welled with furious tears of frustration behind her pacifier. All her careful mental discipline, all her tactical patience, had been completely undone by the vault's fail-safe emergency backup. "There now, all my sweet little girls are nice and secure," the Nursery's overhead speakers chimed with chilling, condescending satisfaction. "Hair trimmed for easy cleaning, pacifiers locked tight, and strict crawling discipline engaged. We are going to have such a wonderful, long month together." 18 let out a muffled, murderous growl through her pacifier, her eyes locked on the ceiling speakers. The nursery's secondary systems whirred softly in the background, settling into its month-long automated routine while the four women—trapped in high chairs and forced crawling positions—were left completely at the mercy of Capsule Corp's ultimate automated nightmare. Once Bulma's haircut was done, leaving her with a single lock of blue hair on her head, Bulma began crying behind her pacifier. It wasn't fair! She was the oldest one here, and now she was dressed like a stupid baby with a haircut to match. She kicked her legs wailing as 18 just stood there moodily in her bowl cut. Videl and Chi-Chi were suddenly picked up and placed in high chairs too, though their bonnets stayed on since, as Videl mused upon, she and Chi-Chi had the same haircut, though 18 hadn't seen it yet. Once they were in place, a tray was lowered down full of baby bottles filled with chocolate milk. The four high chairs stood locked in a tight row facing the center of the nursery, the heavy lap bars and chest harnesses completely immobilizing their occupants. Bulma stared down at her single, ridiculous lock of blue hair hanging over her forehead, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as her muffled wails echoed around her pink pacifier. The sheer embarrassment of being the brilliant head of Capsule Corp—now reduced to a crying, diapered toddler with an absurd baby haircut—was completely overwhelming. Beside her, Android 18 sat in stoic, murderous silence. Her new blonde bowl cut brushed neatly against the edges of her black gothic bib, framing a face of absolute, icy rage. Encased from the waist down in a towering, immovable fortress of ten stacked diapers, she couldn't even shift her weight in the reinforced alloy seat, her sapphire eyes fixed on the tray lowering from the ceiling. Chi-Chi and Videl were secured into the remaining two high chairs, their yellow and purple bonnets thankfully intact over their short hairstyles. Videl let out a long, muffled sigh around her pacifier, her eyes flicking sideways to check on her mother-in-law. Chi-Chi was sniffling quietly, her pride completely shattered as she stared helplessly at her mittened hands. The mechanical tray settled with a soft click directly across all four high chair trays, presenting four giant baby bottles filled to the brim with rich, dark chocolate milk. "See how sweet Mommy is?" the Nursery's overhead speakers chimed in a bright, synthetic register. "Special treats for my four sweet, quiet little girls! Drink it all up, or we can't have our afternoon storytime." Mechanical arms descended from above, expertly unlatching the pacifiers from all four women simultaneously and immediately replacing them with the wide rubber teats of the chocolate milk bottles. 18 glared at the glass bottle pressed against her lips, her jaw set tight. But with the automated system monitoring their feeding progress down to the milliliter and a full month of containment ahead of them, the four diapered fighters had no choice but to start drinking, waiting for the next inevitable glitch or rescue to break Capsule Corp's ultimate automated nightmare. Android 18 sucked down the chocolate milk moodily. As she sat on her extra-cushioned butt, she glanced at the others. Bulma was horrified at her current circumstances. Chi-Chi was enraged and kicked her feet wildly as if that would free her. Videl was defeated, drinking her milk and crying at their present circumstances. Just then, 18 realized that her milk had an odd after taste to it. Before she could place it, the bottle was yanked out of her mouth, and a new bottle of chocolate milk was put into it. She reluctantly began drinking even as she felt her stomach distending from too much food, making her match the others, which didn't improve her mood. Now when she felt her bowels begin to churn. Then she realized that the weird after taste was laxatives. The nursery was feeding them until they took a crap in their diapers. Android 18 tried to stop drinking, but the arm holding the bottle merely had to squeeze to push more milk into her mouth, and now 18 began to cry, with anger rather than embarrassment. The mechanical arms showed no mercy, maintaining an ironclad grip on the giant bottles as the rich, laxative-spiked chocolate milk was steadily forced down their throats. Across the row, Bulma’s eyes widened in sheer panic as her own stomach expanded against her pink bib, the tight, sloshing fullness quickly triggering the exact same ominous churning in her lower abdomen. She let out a desperate, muffled whimper around her bottle, her mittened hands twitching uselessly against the lap bar as her body betrayed her. Chi-Chi’s furious kicking sputtered into a stiff, frozen shock. Her face flushed a deep, burning crimson as the powerful laxatives took effect, forcing a loud, wet mess directly into her purple padding. She squeezed her eyes shut in absolute mortification, tears leaking past her eyelashes as her pride as a martial artist and matriarch was obliterated in a single instant. Beside her, Videl slumped completely into her high chair harness. The heavy, bloated pressure in her distended belly was too much to fight, and within seconds, her yellow diaper was compromised as well. She sobbed quietly into her bottle, completely crushed by the sheer humiliation of the nursery's relentless, automated conditioning. 18’s anger boiled over into furious, helpless tears as the mechanical arm squeezed the last few drops of milk into her mouth. Trapped flat on her extra-cushioned seat, she felt the unmistakable, heavy sensation fill the base of her ten-layer diaper fortress. The sheer bulk of plastic and fluff absorbed everything instantly, leaving her encased in a thick, warm, immovable mound of padding. "My, my! What big, hungry babies!" the Nursery's overhead speakers cooed with sickeningly sweet satisfaction as the empty bottles were retracted into the ceiling. "Mommy is so proud of you all for clearing your plates! Now we can have a nice, long rest while we wait for messy diaper changes." Four mechanical arms descended, popping the locked pacifiers right back into their mouths to seal their muffled protests. Bound tightly in their alloy high chairs, their bellies tight and their diapers heavily soiled, the four women were left sitting in silent, inescapable humiliation as the nursery's automated clock slowly ticked away the first day of their month-long containment. Android 18 seemed to be the only one still motivated to escape. She struggled and screamed into her pacifier, her anger made worse by the horrendous smell that filled her nostrils. Once she was out, she'd blast this whole nursery to Kingdom Come. She kept struggling until the arms freed 18 from her chair and brought her to the changing table, with 18 defiantly but helplessly flailing her limbs around as she was set down on the table. The mechanical arms paid no mind to 18's thrashing, handling her with the cold, unyielding precision of an industrial assembly line. Being set down flat on the padded table only highlighted how ridiculously immobile she was; the towering, ten-layer mound of soiled padding between her legs kept her hips propped up at an awkward, helpless angle, completely robbing her of any footwork or leverage. "My goodness, such a noisy, squirmy little girl!" the Nursery's overhead voice tutted, dripping with insufferable, automated condescension. "Messy diapers are no excuse for a temper tantrum. Time to get my big baby all squeaky clean." 18 let out a muffled, feral snarl through her locked pacifier, her sapphire eyes burning with absolute hatred as she fired up every ounce of her internal cybernetic power. Her aura flared beneath her skin, but before she could channel it into a blast, two heavy padded clamps snapped down over her shoulders, pinning her upper body flat against the table. With swift, mechanical efficiency, the automated arms unfastened the long strips of tape holding the outer layers together. CRIP... CRACKLE... SNAP. The loud, crisp sound of plastic peeling away filled the room, instantly unleashing the overwhelming, sharp stench of the laxative-laced mess. 18 squeezed her eyes shut, her face burning a deep, humiliated red as layer after layer of thick, heavy fluff was unpeeled, wiped away, and discarded into an industrial disposal chute beneath the table. Beside the table, Bulma, Chi-Chi, and Videl sat locked in their high chairs, listening to the relentless crinkle-snap of 18's changing process. Even through their own tears and pacifiers, the sight of the legendary, cold-hearted Android 18 pinned down and subjected to a full, multi-layered diaper service was a horrifying reminder of just how trapped they all were. "All clean! Now let's make sure my big girl stays extra safe and comfortable for naptime," the voice chimed cheerfully. 18 opened her eyes just in time to see a fresh, massive stack of crisp, thick white diapers being retrieved from the vault overhead. Tape. Snap. Crinkle. Without missing a beat, the machine began wrapping layer upon layer back around her waist, locking her hips right back into place with fresh, pristine fluff. Ten layers deep once again, her legs were propped high into the air, and her ability to move was completely neutralized before the clamps finally released her shoulder straps. Effortlessly scooping up the immensly padded, furious android, the mechanical arms carried her right back toward the high chairs, ready to repeat the exact same changing routine on the next weeping, diapered adult in line. Android 18 was taken past the high chairs and set in the playpen where a TV came down and brought up a standby image, with text reading that story time would begin once everyone was changed, much to 18's chagrin. Meanwhile, Videl was picked up and carried to the changing table. She laid there utterly defeated and humiliated. Even if the nursery was being truthful about letting them go in a month, it would take weeks for Videl to work the laxatives out of her system, which she assumed would be part of every meal for the rest of the month. Videl just whimpered sadly, staring up at the mechanical arms overhead. The mechanical arms went to work on Videl with the same cold, rhythmic efficiency, completely unbothered by her quiet sniffling. CRIP... CRACKLE... SNAP. The loud peeling of the plastic tapes echoed through the nursery, followed by the warm, damp sensation of lavender-scented baby wipes thoroughly cleaning her skin. Videl squeezed her eyes shut, hot tears leaking past her eyelashes and soaking into the edges of her yellow bonnet. The thought of enduring thirty more days of forced feedings, laxatives, and infant routine was a crushing weight. Even if Gohan somehow tracked them down before the month was up, the sheer mental toll of being treated like a helpless baby for weeks on end threatened to erode her dignity completely. Within moments, a fresh, thick yellow diaper was taped securely around her waist, pulled tight enough to crinkle loudly with every slight twitch of her legs. Her yellow bib was replaced with a clean one, her pacifier checked, and without a second's delay, she was lifted off the table and carried over to the playpen, deposited right onto a soft pile of oversized pillows. In the playpen, Android 18 sat propped up against the padded wall, her ten stacked layers of fresh diapers forcing her legs out in front of her like a plush doll's. Her new, jagged bowl cut hung over her eyes as she glared daggers at the hovering flat-screen TV overhead, her hands locked inside her black mittens. Videl crawled a few inches closer to 18, letting out a small, defeated sigh around her pacifier as she rested her head against a throw pillow. Back at the changing station, the arms were already making quick work of Chi-Chi and Bulma. Chi-Chi’s muffled, indignant protests were promptly silenced as she was wiped down, freshly diapered in purple, and set into the playpen next to Videl. Finally, a sobbing Bulma—her single remaining lock of blue hair dangling pitifully over her forehead—was dropped beside them in a fresh pink diaper, clutching her plush Dragon Ball like a lifeline. The moment all four women were settled on the mat, a bright, cheerful chime rang out from the overhead speakers. *CARETAKER PROTOCOL: ALL TODDLERS CLEAN AND SECURED.* *INITIATING STORYTIME ROUTINE.* The standby image on the TV screen flickered away, replaced by vibrant, bouncing cartoon animations accompanied by a slow, hypnotic voice reading a story about a little girl who learned that listening to Mommy was the best rule of all. Bound, padded, and completely at the mercy of Capsule Corp's runaway automation, the four fighters sat together in the playpen, forced to watch the screen as the first afternoon of their month-long sentence stretched endlessly ahead of them. By the time the story was over, the four were emotionally exhausted, and physically during the adrenaline caused by the Nanny's physical destruction. Bulma, desperate for a way out, hugged her DragonBall, wishing for her adulthood back. Chi-Chi was throwing a tantrum on the floor. She wasn't a baby! She was a mother and grandmother! How could this stupid machine think she liked this?! Videl was half asleep, hugging the teddy bear. She just wanted the month to be over with. Android 18 would have flipped off the nursery if her hands weren't stuck in mittens. She couldn't believe what she had been reduced to. Her hair didn't grow back! She'd be stuck with short hair for the rest of her life. Chi-Chi moved to try and escape, crawling towards the edge of the playpen and trying to go over it when the arms picked her up and held her down before spanking her for a few minutes. Chi-Chi struggled and cried behind her pacifier as the spanking continued while the others just watched sadly. Chi-Chi just reiterated how trapped they were before she was lifted up along with the rest of them. "Next time, your diadee comes off, Chi-Chi." The nursery warned. "In the meantime, it's time for bed." The mechanical arms worked with terrifying, synchronized speed, scooping all four women out of the playpen at once. Chi-Chi sobbed hysterically into her purple pacifier, her face burning with deep, unforgivable humiliation as she clung tightly to her giant teddy bear. The sting of the punishment, combined with the cold warning of having her diaper removed, completely broke whatever martial artist spirit she had left. She was carried through the air like a fussing toddler, thoroughly defeated. Beside her, Bulma curled into a tight ball as she was lifted, her mittened hands clutching the plush Dragon Ball against her chest. The reality had set in: there were no wishes, no hacks, and no clever inventions that could save her from her own automated safety protocols. Trapped with her absurd single lock of hair, she was completely at the mercy of the machine's strict schedule. Videl didn't even fight as her high chair harness was transferred to a crib. She let her head sink deep into the plush pillow, her eyes heavy and glazed. The adrenaline was gone, replaced by a dull, aching fatigue in her bloated belly. She sucked weakly on her yellow pacifier, mentally counting down the days, hours, and minutes until the month-long sentence finally expired. 18 was lowered into a large, heavy-duty wooden crib built specifically to accommodate her massive, ten-layer mound of padding. Her legs hovered uselessly above the mattress as she was laid flat on her back, the sheer bulk of fluff completely encasing her lower body. She glared up at the ceiling, her sapphire eyes burning through her new, jagged bowl cut. She swore to herself that the exact second that automated text reached Panchy and the month was up, she would obliterate every single circuit board in Capsule Corp. The mechanical arms pulled thick, fleece blankets over all four of them, tucking the edges tightly around their shoulders so they couldn't squirm free. "Sleep tight, my sweet, quiet little girls," the Nursery's voice chimed in a soft, low, condescending purr as the main lights dimmed to a pale, starry blue. "Mommy will be right here watching over you all night." The heavy nursery door locked with a sharp, pneumatic hiss. Suspended in their cribs—padded, pacified, and thoroughly stripped of their adult dignity—the four women lay in the quiet darkness, left with nothing to do but wait for morning to bring the next round of bottles. To be continued...