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Curio
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Getting ready, we wait until the pram passes under the branch. "Jump now!" We leap up from the pram...
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As the Doors open automatically to the outside, the belt that holds us down, opens up. The pram is big enough for us to sit up, but as it moved through the door, it's just a bit fast to jump off. It's still night, but we know that the sun will be up soon and the park will open, we need to get out of here before then. Thankfully it's a warm night, as we are wearing relatively little. The pram trundles down a path and I peek out of the basket. It's driving down a worn path and I can see the yard it's in is overgrown with weeds, it clearly hasn't been tended to. As the pram turns a corner, I spy a tree by the hedge. It's branches have grown over the top of the hedge, giving us a potential way out. ""Psst, up there," I point to a low hanging branch. "Think we can jump up to it? If we're quick, we can be over the hedge before this thing knows what happened."
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"You look so cute in them," it replies. One arm quickly snakes into the pram and pats our cheeks with a powder puff. "Hey! Get o-mgh!" I try to bat it away, but the pram shoves a pacifier into my mouth. Finally, a mirror is lifted up, revealing us both in our matching blue outfits. We both blush deeply, we look even more like a pair of overgrown babies. "Don't the babies look so precious," the pram coo's. "How about we go outside for a walk?" The pram starts to move, by itself, towards a door.
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Expertly folding the diapers over our crotches, the hands quickly lock them in place with some lockable safety pins. The cloth feels softer than the disposable diapers we had on earlier, like we have a cloud pinned around our waists. Drawing some plastic pants up our legs, the pram continues to dress us both in booties, mittens and a bonnet. "The babies look so adorable now," coo's the pram, tickling our exposed tummies.
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"I don't know," I reply. "But this place was separate from the House, maybe we can get away from this pram once it's finished." As it finishes applying the rash cream, the pram's hands lightly tickle our toes, causing us to giggle. "There's my happy babies," it coo's. The hands slip a pair of cloth diapers under our bottoms, then start liberally sprinkling baby powder over us, using a powder puff the make sure our bottoms and between our legs are well coated. "Wouldn't want to irritate that rash now," says the pram.
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As the pram gently cleans our bottoms, I start to relax into it, the cool wipe feeling heavenly against our recently spanked butts. Balling up the used nappies, the robot arms toss them into a nearby trash can, they land with a 'THUNK'. "Aw, does baby have a nasty rash? Let mama take care of that." The Prams arms grab our ankles and lift our legs, exposing our deep red rear ends. As they being applying a rash cream, the irritation finally stops. "That feels sooo much better," I sigh, contentedly.
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We are held against the prams padded surface by a pair of restraints around our tummies, they look like soft fabric, but we can feel the firm grip from within. Lying side by side, we are powerless as the prams robotic hands untape our messy diapers. "Urgh, gross, what did they feed us?" I groan, as the smell hits us both. A moment later we both feel the cool sensation of baby wipes on our bottoms.
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We stay quiet as the robot scans the room, its featureless head turning slowly. We duck down into the pram as it 'looks' at us. After a few intense minutes, it makes a series of electronic squeaks and beeps, before turning around and leaving to search elsewhere. "That was close," I sigh, lifting the hood. However, as I do, another voice speaks. "Aww, did the babies go poopy in their diapees?" Something grabs us both by the waist and pulls us down onto the prams padded interior, holding us in place. We see that inside the hood is a pair of old speakers, and the voice speaks from them, just as more robot arms emerge from under the pram. "Let mama change them for you," speaks the Pram. "Not again!"
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I roll off the belt and stagger after you, the robot hot on our heels. "BAD CHILDREN WILL BE PUNISHED!" We duck out of the nurses station and run deeper into the old museum. Entering another exhibit, we dive into what looks like an old Victorian pram and pull down the hood so we can hide. The robot enters a few minutes later and we hold our breath.
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"I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF HEEEEEERE!" I wail as I pee my diaper uncontrollably, the robot continuing to spank us. Eventually, when we are worn out, exhausted and sweating, the robot stops, leaving us panting over it's lap. "Please...no more spanking." "DIRECTIVE COMPLETE, NEW DIRECTIVE: CHANGE AND CLEAN." It lifts us both up as part of the medical station wall opens to reveal another conveyor belt.
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"Well, -OW-, we wouldn't be here in the, -AH-, first place if you,-WAH-, hadn't left the walkway!" I cry out between spanks. "LET GOOOO, I HAVE TO PEEEEEEEEE!" I cry out as the robot continues to spank us, but no amount of wriggling or squirming will let us escape the machines grasp.
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"IRRELLIVANT, UNSUPERVISED CHILDREN NEED DISCIPLINE," replies the robot. It brings the paddle down on both our padded rears with a mighty SLAP! We jump in its lap, but the robot holds us in place as it spanks us. The blows are softened by our messy diapers, but that doesn't stop the mess from squishing against our skin, causing us to wriggle and squirm even more. "AH, this. is. so grossssss," I whine.
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"How is this time my fault?" I reply. The robot carried us at its hip as we squirm and writhe, taking us back to the medial station. Entering, it settles into a seat and lies us over its lap, then one hand changed into a paddle. "UNSUPERVISED CHILDREN NEED DISCIPLINE"
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As we pass an antiquated First-Aid station, an old robot jerks to life and grabs us. "Not again!" I scream. It's just a silver automaton, not like the Nanny or the Family inside the House. A round orb acts as a 'face', and it's wearing an old style nurses cap, while the body is painted to resemble a nurses uniform. "UNSUPERVISED CHILDREN IN NEED OF CHANGE, DIRECTIVE: CHANGE AND RETURN TO FAMILLIES"
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It takes hours and hours to clean up everything, but by the end, the warehouse is returned to normal and the machines are once again stored away. The three teenagers now stand in front of the scientist, Madam Zelda, exhausted. "Well, I think that just about does it," she says. "Can we go home now?" asks Serena. "It's all tidy now, we're sorry this all happened, can you pleeeeease just let us go." Madam Zelda smirks. "Yes, I think you can go home now, but as babies aren't allowed to drive, let me show you what my robots did to your car while you were so busy." They are led outside by the remaining robots, where they see Chris car. It's been cleaned, re-sprayed a hot pink, polished and now gleams like it's factory fresh. The back seat has also been replaced with three, adult sized, baby car seats.
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Waddling around in our messy diapers, we move through the dusty museum into another area full of antiquated machines. (Mind if I have one last bit of fun with the machines? We wont go back into the House.)
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"Thanks man," I reply, "Lets try looking elsewhere."
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As if responding to your statement, the machine suddenly starts up with a massive roar. The belt begins to move and, as I'm looking through the gap, I'm suddenly pulled onto it. "Gah! Help!"
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Heading back into the old museum, we start looking for a way out. We eventually find an old exhibit with another conveyor belt that runs into an opening in the wall, fresh air is flowing through it. "I think this leads outside."
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"It's not over just yet, we need to find an exit first," I reply. "Lets check that old museum, there might be a door."
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Dressed in nothing but a pair of stinky diapers, we waddle back to the control room. I check the computer and change the security setting to release him just before the ride opens, but not before he's given another spanking. "That should give us enough time."
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"I don't think so, he lied to us and was content to leave us here for the crowd<" I reply. "But I suppose I could programme the House to release him after we have gotten FAR away from here."
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"Theirs or ours?" I reply. "Because, with luck, we wont need to change theirs." Grabbing some diapers from the workshop, we quickly tape them on the inactive babies and slip back into the nursery, the manager is still tied, and gagged, inside a third crib. Stripping out of our onesies, we put them on the babies and lift them into the cribs, it's eerie at how closely they resemble us. "Okay, now turn them on and lets get out of here."
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"Do that after these babies are dressed and in their cribs, we can grab some diapersfrom that workshop on the way out."
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My own inside shift and I fill my nappy as well. "Dang it!"
