Operational Systems

Tell Me More Sequel

Oh don't say that. It was my second favorite option.

Everyone has done an amazing job with their own twists on this. It feels like everyone just decided to take their wildest ideas and kick them up to an extreme level. A dangerous proposition, but here it works well.

I like the idea of the Tell Me More Sequel as it seems more unique, and an opportunity for people to positively change and grow or face a difficult adversary. The AR virus idea is fine, but it's been done a lot.

One thing I prefer about this novel, compared to some of your others, is the theme that there is nothing that is broken that cannot be fixed with perseverance, love, and attention. Some of your other works are about maintaining a sense of self and accomplishment with a declining sense of autonomy and becoming whole despite injury, but this is one of your first works about repairing and improving on a problem. I'm hopeful these themes shine through the rest of the novel and into your other works. Some of them are a bit depressing at times, despite being joyous explorations of the genre and the wonderful description of how fun it'd be to become a little in this other dimension.

I don't want to say I'm disappointed to have them rescued by an outside force, since I like this book, but I do feel the boys deserved a chance to show their agency here. Still, there is this sense we're seeing the point in the horror movie where the army shows up to rescue the heroes, and they are about stomped on by a more powerful alien force. Either way is fine I guess. The boys and the villains have revealed themselves enough that neither can really return back to normal without triumphing over the other. How many more chapters were you thinking of writing for this book?

The story is good. Don't take the absence of replies as absence of interest, sometimes there's just not much to say. Plus you've got an advantage - it's a bit of a dry period at the moment.

Not even time to bask in the glory of their success. Poor littles.

I've written some shopping mart scenes as well in my DD Novel, and I'm glad you capture the idea of how normal the experience is, but with various sinister twists underneath it that add the spice of the diaper world. I like that you've highlighted John's regression that he can't comprehend the store is only twice as big as his normal shopping experiences, and further that he's starting to have emotions that are too big for him - symbolically emphasized in the escalation that his poop is now too big for his diapers. He no longer can contain what is inside, and depends upon his new mommy as his mother and protector. A lovely chapter.

So the idea for this came up in chat, and the idea was basically "What if a computer decided you were a baby". I definitely feel you could do more with it, and I would like to see the other authors give a go at it. One can imagine a a little watching his or her maturity score like the movie "In Time". The tension of seeing it getting worse, as their maturity score keeps falling, and the point of adoption getting closer and closer, as the system keeps raising the threshold to maintain a steady stream of adoption. "Oh two sugars in your coffee? That's -100 maturity points mister." I'm currently working on a long form novel that's pretty different, so I'm probably not the person to write this, but give me a few weeks or months and I may come back to the idea.

Thanks to Personalias's discord for helping come up with the weird prompt and putting up with the early version. Blue Day by Operational Systems Her hair was perfect, as always. Blonde, with just a touch of auburn in the streaks, with a bit of sparkling glitter provided a slight catch of the light as she lay on her pink pillow. She had woken up two hours ago to start preparation for her show, which included combing and curling her hair, after applying no less than four conditioners, shampoos, clarifiers, and cleansers. She had even set up the room lighting to make it appear she was receiving the first glints of natural morning light through her window. The windows had been covered in black cloth and white studio lights were the sole source of illumination. “Hello friends! I’m feeling awfully blue today. What do you think? Do you think it’ll be a blue day?” Matilda was an influencer. She made her money, well to be honest her lifestyle was mostly supported by her parents, but in her mind, she earned her living by knowing how to be both important and online. Across the country tweens would load up her prompt-a-gram account, see a new video where she would showcase an overpriced piece of plastic or carcinogenic laden beauty product, and then go and click her link to buy one of their own. Her personal page was garnished with ads extolling services letting you “buy now and pay later” over just four to six easy payments. She found it adorable that the seven-foot ladies, many in their thirties and forties, would be taken in by the glamor and lifestyle of an Amazon like her. These tweeners would blow through entire paychecks on a water bottle she endorsed or purse they “had” to have. Matilda was not just an online presence, she knew how to work with her fans in person too. She would go to the mall and look down at the tweener gals, “Oh, you have such lovely shoes? Where did you see those?” “Oh my god, that dog carrier is adorable, who do you follow on prompt-a-gram?” - The tweeners always gushed at being noticed by a woman half their age and three feet taller – she was the real adult they all wanted to be one day. Matilda’s blue cover and blue pajamas and blue headband with matching blue wrist band for her blue case on her Melon phone caused the live chat to erupt: “OH MY GOD BLUE IT’S THE BLUE DAY.” “IT”S LIKE HAPPENING” “YOU GO GIRL>” Matilda smiled at that. Tweeners had a nasty habit of typing the first thoughts that entered their heads, rather than carefully considering how it might be perceived, and paying delicate attention to their words. They lacked both the caution of littles and the intelligence of bigs. That was fine, their money was just as good as anyone else’s. Blue, in this case, referred to a color of the envelope mailed to citizens by the Atlantica Adoption Service. Atlantica prided itself as a technocratic advanced and liberal people. In fact, Atlantica abolished forced adoptions five years ago. No longer would a judge or a doctor examine the small ones and declare “you’re clearly unable to perform as an adult in our society.” There were no more “death sentences,” and most of all no more fake maturosis diagnosis by psychologists who can be bribed, or corrupted. Atlantica had decided on a new route, a progressive forward looking one. Technology would be the liberator of the littles. That meant of course, every movement was tracked by a machine. Every purchase, every website, every place driven, and all phone calls were monitored. Everyone was continuously recorded by camera and all their activities logged into the great computer. The great machine assigned each person in the country a maturity score. If your maturity score fell too low, you would receive a letter informing you were being adopted, and a corresponding Amazon would receive their own blue letter, indicating they would receive their new child. Each little would be paired with whom the machine determined would best match their personalities and needs. No more corruption, no more errors, nothing needed to be faked. Even the littles had to admit it was fair, in its own twisted way. The Amazons loved the system. No longer did one have to poison a coffee cup or wait around the airport for some lonely traveler to make a mistake. No more fighting over “I saw him poop his pants first.” Instead, one could just go about their lives and provided they were a model citizen, a new baby would inevitably be dropped off at their doorstep. The littles were not fans. On the one hand they did not have to worry about pooping themselves in public and getting snatched, which was always a plus. Instead, their cruel fate would be told to them by the machine. “We’re sorry, small one, you made a bad stock pick”. Maybe they drove too fast in their car, watched one too many videos on us-box, or stayed up too late playing video games. The machine saw all and when one line crossed another, the little was deemed to have failed to live up to society’s standards. He or she would then get a letter the next day telling them he or she was no longer an adult, and to prepare for adoption agents to come shortly. Matilda knew today was the day she was getting an envelope. She had been preparing her audience for weeks since she signed up for the program. There was one quick jump cut from her bed (and of course an entirely new outfit, a simple blue jean jacket you can buy on the A-to-Z site for $99.99, which is perfect for this time of year) and she was at her mailbox. She held the phone out, slowly going through the new mail. The natural light and outdoor sounds a sharp contrast to the perfectly curated bedroom she escaped from. “Hmm, Coupons. Junk Mail. Nope thought it’d be here.” Her face turned to an overly orchestrated frown, her perfect blonde hair falling in front of her eyes. “OH NO GIRL” “BETTER LUCK TOMORWWO?” “IT’S SO UNFAIR YOU DESERVE A BABY” “But! What’s this?” Matilda’s surprise could not be more fake than a little opening a Saturnalia present (Is it a baby toy? Yes it is!). She knew what was in the mailbox because she had already checked it before she started filming this morning. “LIKE! OH MY GOD!” Matilda screamed throwing the rest of the letters. Her phone shook violently as her 11-foot body jumped up and down. There was only a wave of blue and a blur of her outfit to the camera. Her entire chat exploded, and links to the live stream poured onto all social media platforms. For a moment, Matilda was the third most popular influencer on prompt-a-gram. In an hour, her video would be pushed down by the lunch-flu-encers, but for fifteen minutes she may as well have been the most important person in the world. Even as she danced in excitement, her large Amazonian mind was going through the possibilities to exploit this the best. She decided on hashtag “Is it a boy?”. Obviously, she wanted a girl, but today was a blue day, and she might as well go with the theme. Matilda already knew which companies she was going to be reaching out to for free products to display for her new baby. Transitions and Gadzooks! Of course, new baby needed toys. She was thinking of more clothing for herself. She’d need a brand new outfit. Her tweeners fans were not allowed to adopt, but this was an opportunity to branch out, and to level up her content. She was now going to enter the grown-up world of mom-fluencers. This was where the real money was. If she succeeded, she might not need to have her parents pay for the house or her car. There was another jump cut, she was now in a white dress with spaghetti straps on the shoulders. Her hair had been recombed after being in the wind outside, and now it gave a more sophisticated look. Still, it was a poor attempt to look older than her 26 years. She held up the blue envelope in the house to the camera. The front had been manually stamped with “Important: Notice of Adoption” in bright red letters. “This is it. This is the moment I get my new baby. Did we decide chat? Is it a boy or a girl? Hashtag is it a boy, trending now.” She slowly ripped open the top of the envelope and took out the thick papers. The top of one had an official seal. She began to read. “Dear Matilda Youngblood, this is an urgent letter to inform you of an immediate status update with regard your adoption.” She went high pitched, “This is perfect! This is so official sounding and everything. Gals and fans! I’m having a baby. I’m getting a baby!” she spoke to the camera, “this next part is even better.” “Under the Artificial Intelligence and Adoption Act, select individuals whose maturity is below their official age can be deemed unfit for adult life, and need to be placed in the immediate protective care of a loving family. The selection of this is determined by blah blah blah and blah blah blah and monitoring software,” her voice became serious at the conclusion. “It is our intention to inform you that you have now been chosen for adoption.” “Can you believe this? The computer chose me to adopt a baby. I’m going to be a mommy.” Her reading continued, “While there remains some possibility of review, you must respond to this letter no later than Ventôse 11th, for manual consideration of the calculations and if there any factors you wish to add that may mitigate this decision.” “Woah, postman delivered this a bit late chat. That was yesterday, isn’t that, right? Happy Franciade, for those who celebrate the leap year! Today is our blue day! Let’s see if the letter says if it will be a boy or girl. Maybe they want that to be a surprise for when the baby meets his new mommy?” “Failure to respond will be taken as acceptance of decree of adoption, and an agent of the State will visit you on the 12th.” “That’s TODAY! Chat that’s today!” She started to jump up and down, her hair coming undone from the mom-bun she had tried to put it in. Her chat could not contain themselves, “YAASSS QUEEN NEW MOMMY NEW BABY HOW IS ABABBY COMING TODAY” She finished off the rest of the letter, “The Atlantican government has already reached out to a warm and loving couple who are eager to accept the burden of becoming your new parents and raise you in a manner appropriate for your level of development. Your new life will be considerably different from your old…” She stopped reading aloud. She looked at the camera, “I uh, I think there’s a mistake here, I’m guessing they mailed me the wrong letter. But don’t worry I’ll get this all sorted out. I’m sure they meant to mail the new mommy letter to me instead, I will be right back chat once the new baby is here.” She reached over and turned off the camera. She examined the paper up and down for a phone number or a website and found nothing. Perhaps if a little had received the letter, he would have immediately bolted from the house, a desperate attempt to escape fate by fleeing society. Instead, Matilda was paralyzed to action. To her, nothing made sense. Fifteen minutes later there was a knock at the door. She tried to explain to the two men there was a mistake. “It’s obvious something is wrong, I’m not a baby. I can’t be adopted. I can go to the bathroom; I have a job.” It was not the first time today the adoption agents had heard this, only the other person who said the same thing had been 65 inches tall. They found that her house was a mess of pink and fluff between the cameras and lights. Each room looked like a cross between an eight-year old’s ideal bedroom and a movie studio. The adoption agent stared at her loose-fitting outfit that was aimed at impressing twelve-year-olds before carefully responding to her. He knew how to handle those with weaker minds. “I do not disagree,” he started, “There is clearly a mix up in the machine, but that’s not something we can fix. We will need a few days to put in a request to reevaluate. Just go along with this for now, it’s your best option. It’s the only way to show you’re a responsible citizen and an adult. That will help boost your score when we rerun the calculations.” The other agent sighed, playing off the story, “Your new ‘adoptive parents’ do not want a baby your size either, this is just as unfair to them. I’m sure they’ll help with clearing this up, but we need to get your processed first, so we can work to get you out of the system.” The two giants gently guided Matilda to the back of the adoption van. The sky-blue vehicle was adorned with colorful text indicating its official purpose in the Adoption Services. The agents had to take the children’s seats out so she could fit in. What surprised her was that the drive to her new parents was over an hour and outside the city. Staring out the window she found grassy fields and fences protecting herds of cattle. The longer they traveled, the fewer cars there were on the road. The distance between buildings and houses expanded, with empty farmland between them. Eventually the van slowed, there was nothing to be seen here except a break in the wooden fence that was bisected by a dirt road. The van turned along the bare path and slowly marched another ten minutes to a distant white farmhouse. It looked old in style, possibly a century or two in age. The lighting from the windows was a soft amber and protected by a covered white shade that matched the sharp new white paint on the wooden house. It was about three Matilda’s tall. The girl looked at her phone as the van pulled into the driveway and saw just the exclamation point above her internet connection, she turned it off to conserve battery, as the agents opened the van door and guided her to the front house. One agent knocked at the screen door and the three waited a minute in silence. The door opened to a dark interior slowly at first, and then quickly. Matilda stared into the empty living room, unsure what was going on. The screen door seemed to open of its own accord, and the left agent reached out to hold it open. The two agents stepped back slightly, and Matilda saw her new parents. They were old. The man had thin graying white hair that looked wet but well combed. He wore faded blue jeans with a tucked in red polo shirt. He had put in an attempt to look good, and with his worn face protected by large round glasses, the rustic appearance had a warm charm. The woman had put on clothing appropriate for church on Sunday, a long green dress with a pearl white necklace. Her hair was well maintained, and the dye job was hardly noticeable to Matilda from the other side of the deck. The two had received a similar blue envelope and had brought it to the door. It let them know that today would be the day they would receive their new boy or girl. Their attempts to impress their new daughter had failed, not just because of their lack of sophistication or fashion, but because the two were half the woman’s height. “Oh, she’s certainly a big one. Well, ain’t that a blessing. Come in, come in, you’ll get a cold out there,” the old woman said waving for Matilda to enter. Unsure of what to do, the tall woman stepped into the portal. She needed to duck her head slightly in the foyer to fit in the farm house entrance. “I was hoping for a boy,” the man spoke feigning disappointed, but then his mood instantly turned, “But a baby girl is just perfect too.” Matilda finally figured it out, “I think I see where the computer crossed a wire on this. I’m supposed to adopt a little, not be adopted by a little.” “Shucks, if that helps you feel better about it. I’m your new adopted daddy, and this is your new adopted mommy,” the small man answered. The man and the lady gave a small laugh at that. Despite her protests, the two agents were satisfied and left the giant to her fate. “I know there’s some mistake here,” Matilda reasoned, “See, I was going to adopt a little, and the computer seems to have flipped things around. I can’t imagine how hard this is for you guys. I’ll try not to be a burden while this gets sorted out.” Finally, the older couple dropped their act, letting their shoulders and faces take a more serious look. The man smiled and spoke first, “It’s okay, we understand. We’re just having a bit of a laugh with it. Yes, we would like to adopt a child, and we were excited we had been chosen by the computer, but this isn’t what we expected either. You’re a big girl, and we wanted a little one, little for us rather. The agency told us of the mix up by phone. We’ll get this all sorted out in just a few days.” “Oh, thank goodness, so um, can I go back to my home or…” The old women gave her answer, “No, we don’t have a car that can take you at this time, but day after tomorrow my nephew’s truck will be available and we can get you back to town. You’ll be fine staying here a couple nights, right?” It was not what she wanted to do, but she did not see much alternative. She certainly was not going to walk all the way back to the city. She was not even sure which direction she had to go; she had not paid any attention during the ride out. She had spent most of the last hour on her phone, slowly losing connection to the world as she got further from the city. First video, and then pictures, and finally text, until now, out in the wilderness, there was nothing. She was not even sure she could call someone, the signal was too weak. Matilda found a couch and sat down, her body easily taking up a cushion and a half like her own personal recliner. “You guys got the internet out here? Something from which I can stream? I think this whole experience would be a kick for my followers.” Matilda was always looking for a way to turn even the slightest setback into an opportunity for people to glorify and praise her – and to make money. The man came over to a recliner and sat down, staring up at the new daughter, “Oh, no, we have an old PC in the back we get e-mails on, but that’s just dial up. Dang thing don’t work half the time.” “No streaming, so what do you guys do for fun?” The old couple looked at each other, before the woman answered, “Watch television. We used to get a DVD in the mail each month, but that service is shutting down. We do still have a good collection of shows though. Haven’t even watched half of them. If there’s something you’d like, we’d be happy to put it on.” Matilda looked up at the television council across from her. It was the one thing Amazonian sized in the building. It would have been big in her old room. It mirrored the living room back at her, distorting her image in the black reflection. Entranced, she moved closer to the TV and looked above it, carefully reading off titles. Then she saw it. It was still wrapped in plastic. A dark plan formed in her mind. Perhaps she could still walk away from this as a winner. She pulled the DVD down and held it up to the others, reading the title. “Naomi and Oliver, the 3D edition. Complete first season.” She shook the case, there was a small pair of white paper thin glasses sized for an Amazon’s face, carefully taped within the package to the plastic case. The man nodded, “Oh that, not sure why we got it, maybe in case we hosted Sharon’s grandkids... I’ve heard good things though.” Matilda smiled, if these two were not already old enough for diapers, they would soon be wearing them, “Please, I think you’d guys like it. I know it looks like a cartoon but it’s for older people too. Plus I can wear the three dee glasses too, it’ll be a new experience for me.” The man and the woman looked at each other, and then came over and setup the television. The three moved to the couch, Matilda was in the center, her oversized arms came down around her new family, and her face adorned with the ridiculous glasses. “Come on Oliver, are you ready to go on an adventure?” Watching the DVD with the glasses hurt her eyes. The protective shades even gave the show a strange tint of blue, blurring the cartoon image at the edges. She didn't care though, the story was refreshing. Matilda could see herself as Naomi, traveling the globe with her best friend Oliver. The two trying to corrupt the bigs into pooping their pants. Of course, the bigs never fell for it, they were too smart for it, and in the end the two littles always got punished for their silly games. No matter how many times they failed, the two littles would try again and again tomorrow. Matty looked up at her daddy as he pulled hard on the six-inch-thick tapes, “It’s tight daddy, thank you.” The crib she lay in came up to his chest, when he had unfolded the white diaper to put on her, it had bounced slightly on the floor. The old man happily returned, “You’re such a big girl for me Matty, you’re big enough to hold all the love we’ll ever need. We were sad before you came, and now that we’re finally together, you bring sunshine and happiness to us every day.” Matty looked at her new garment. It did not match her pink pajamas; it was a simple white and had a long yellow stripe on the front, which clashed with her pink nighty top. Her fashion sense tingled, and she pointed to it, “What’s this do?” She had never paid much attention to these garments; the stripe served no decorative purpose. “Oh, that’s for grownups. When it changes color it’s time to get a new diaper on you. Now, no more questions. It’s time for you to get to bed. I have an early day tomorrow, and you have a long day as well.” That got her to nod and shift her head down on the flat mattress. Today had been good, she had helped mommy perfect her new cookie recipe for the fair in the kitchen, and then a new season of Naomi and Oliver came in the mail, and she got to watch two whole episodes before dinner. Today had been a good day, because today was a blue day. Tomorrow when she saw the stripe had changed on her diaper, she would know tomorrow was going to be a blue day as well. From now on, every day is going to be a blue day.

😖 I meant she forgot mine. It's fine, the list is a work in progress, the original is mis tagged.

I'm not gonna cry, I'm going to go touch up my other DD stories and get them posted.

Our hero has learned nothing from Animal House. There's implications in the past few chapters that the big's plans for regression are in swing, is the poor performance on the test reflective of that? I don't understand Evelyn's fascination with hitting and early bedtimes, obviously she intends to crush these two without having them succeed, their academic performance is irrelevant, but still mam, you got to switch it up. She could like, print the test and post it to the door. Force him to wear a dunce cap. Wake him up at 5 am and force him to study.

Thank you both for the strong words of encouragement. Especially Personalias who finally got around to reading it. I'm glad everyone liked it.