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Child’s Play A Story of Yayoi Yamamoto, Operative of SLA Industries by InkuHime (aka Incognito Himitsu) This is one of my favourite stories. I've done some rewriting on it since I first posted it years ago. This is an action adventure dark (grim dark?) science fiction story based on the TTRPG SLA Industries. There is a strong, central plot line that involves diapers, but it is not a conventional ABDL diaper story. Chapter 1 Here Comes the Rain Again A long, narrow truck pulled to a stop on the Lower Downtown raised walkway. The vehicle shifted back and forth as three men climbed out of the cab. Two were rather large, one husky, the other fat. The third was a thin man, covered from head to foot in leather. The one in leather was a Prop, a mercenary and killer for hire. He was known on the streets as ‘Bent for Leather’. They had stopped for the girl sitting on the edge of the walkway. Small, thin, covered by a dirty, plastic poncho against the ever-falling rain of Mort. It was hard to tell much about her, hunched over with her head resting on her chest as she was. Still, she looked young; the Skin Trade's biggest seller was youth. And if it turned out she was not young, well, pretty, still sold. And if not pretty… that was one of the things the Prop took care of. The fat man approached her first; he held a hypo-gun loaded with Bio-block in his chubby hand. It was a bold move, but it was dark, and the high, wet walkway was deserted. The girl did not even look up as he approached. She might have been already drugged out of her mind. So much the easier for them if that was the case. He was beginning to reach forward when the girl did something totally unexpected. She kicked back and rolled backwards off the walkway's side, dropping out of sight. The three men looked at each other, surprised, though it was difficult to tell with the Prop as his face was masked by leather strips. "Must've known what we was planning," the husky man said. "Chose death over getting caught." "Stupid little bitch," the fat man said. "Now we got to find another one to meet quota." He moved to the walkway's edge, looking down, expecting to see the girl's broken body forty meters below. A hand grabbed him around his ankle. A quick pull and he was falling, screaming all those forty meters to the ground. The other two had not seen what had happened; to them, it looked like the fat man had jumped. They stood there, trying to figure out why two people had just decided to throw themselves from the walkway. The muted rumble of a pair of fusion turbines made both men look upwards. Above them was a figure in a suit of Silverback armour. As the armoured angel tossed away a plastic poncho, the Prop understood. The girl had not jumped from the walkway, and it was very likely his fat companion had been pulled. That realization had him going for the pistols at his side. Before he could reach them, a knife—hurled with exo-armour-assisted strength—punched through his throat. Even as the Prop’s corpse hit the ground, the armoured figure alighted on the walkway and grabbed the husky man around the wrist. She hyperextended his elbow, twisted his wrist, and forced him onto his toes. He screamed in pain and then screamed louder as she jerked him around, flinging him over the side of the walkway and then holding him from a fall by his injured arm. There was something of a cat tormenting a small rodent in the actions. "Shut up," she snapped, giving him a shake. Her words and the agony cleared his head for a moment. Adrenaline flooded his body, chasing away the pain and giving him clarity. He knew he was in great danger and that his only chance of living rested in the hands of the small, armoured girl holding him. "That's good," she said as he stopped screaming. "Tell me, who you’re with?" "Slap and Tickle," he said, breathing hard, trying not to start screaming again. "And where are you operating?" "I can't tell you?" She let go of him, allowing him to fall for a moment before leaning forward and snatching him again by the wrist, bringing him to a painful stop. "You can." Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he had lost bladder control. He was close to passing out from the pain. "They'll kill me," he sobbed. "What makes you think that I won't?" "Down at the old Handara warehouse, Level Three. That's where we were supposed to bring this load. I swear that's all I know." "Thank you," she said and then released his hand. He screamed until he stopped. She did not even watch. "This is Operative Yamamoto; I need a Shiver team at Walkway One Fifty-Six, Sector 7B, Lower Downtown, immediately," she said into her helmet's microphone. As she spoke, she stepped over the dead Prop and walked to the truck. "Roger that Operative Yamamoto," the voice on the other end replied. "Expect a team to arrive in five minutes." "That's too long.” She pulled open the rear doors of the truck. "I need them here now." "I'm sorry, Operative Yamamoto," the operator on the other end said calmly and politely. "There are no teams closer to your location." Yayoi keyed her microphone off and made a rude noise before turning it back on and saying, "Understood." Her tone was despondent; she could not help it, not when looking into the truck. A metal bar ran the length of the roof. Plastic ties around their wrists and over that bar, twelve people, very young men and women, girls and boys, were hung like meat. Few were tall enough that their feet reached the rusty metal grate beneath them. All so sedated that they might as well be dead. The desire to move caused her heart to race. Always before, when she learned of some processing centre, she would arrive too late. The big players who knew the names and had the client lists would be gone. There was a mole somewhere, leaking information to the Skin Trade. There had to be. Someone was getting in the way of the investigation, maybe even slowing the response time. Five minutes felt too long. She wanted to go but would not leave the victims there, where anyone, or anything, could get at them. So she waited until the Shiver unit showed up, rolling onto the walkway in one of their APCs. She gave them a quick briefing on what had happened. Made sure they knew what to do. Satisfied that the victims were in good hands, Yayoi leapt from the walkway, slowing her fall with her armour’s turbines. She landed gently on the rain-soaked road below, not far from the two dead men. Nearby, hidden under a pile of garbage, was her SCAF bike. The armoured security plates slid back at her command, the engine roaring to life. She straddled the vehicle, gave it power, and roared out of the alleyway and onto the street. Once she got some speed, Yayoi activated the main turbine, lifting the bike into the air. The hydraulic system pulled the wheels into the main body, changing the motorcycle into a one-man helicopter. Speed was of the essence now. Any chance of getting her hands on someone important depended on how soon she could get there. If they knew she was coming--and had to know she was coming--they would be clearing out. Seconds. She believed that it always came down to seconds. She would arrive to hear the echoing of a door slamming somewhere, the smell of cigarette smoke still in the air. Those who might know something already clear. The opportunity to score a telling blow to the Skin Trade was always out of reach. Maybe it was already too late, but she had to try. Go Fast. Go Faster. This time, it might be different. If only she could go faster. Soon, she was dropping below the raised streets, speeding among the web of walkways and roads, nearly scraping the buildings as she went. Three levels under the so-called surface of Mort was not too deep. Not when it was possible—if suicidal—to travel down 285 levels. Still, it was deep enough for her. She hated Lower Downtown for so many reasons, only partly because that was where her prey lived and thrived. Ahead of her was the warehouse, an old, supposedly deserted building. It looked abandoned, but the Skin Trade did not survive by making their presence visible. The SCAF landed on the roof of the building, the turbines throwing up a cloud of grit and dirt. She jumped off the bike, moving quickly, just in case anyone started shooting at her, making her way to a doorway on the roof. As it was, there was no threat there. There was not much of a threat anywhere in the building. As before, Yayoi had arrived too late, perhaps by less than a minute. That was all it would take for the people in charge to scatter and hide, going deeper into the shadows. There were always a few people who would remain behind. The stupid or the desperate, trying to salvage something of value. A kick of her exo-armour tore the door from its hinges. Yayoi followed, diving over the walkway and dropping to the warehouse floor, her automatic pistols ready. She ordered all there to put their hands on their heads and not move. Those too foolish to listen, she shot. It was a waste of bullets, but dealt with the problem quickly. Those that remained did as she ordered and, therefore, were just maybe smart enough to be worth questioning. There were also about sixty victims there, nearly half of them already dead. The Skin Trade was like any other business. They got rid of inventory that did not sell. She had to keep her temper as she questioned those she had left alive. They knew little, could tell her even less and were not nearly as bright as she had hoped. Hangers-on, temp work, just people looking to make a little extra money and not interested in asking too many questions. Mort was full of people like that. When the Shivers arrived, she turned the scene over to them and trudged her way back up to the roof. Looking around, making sure she was alone, Yayoi took off her helmet and screamed as loud as she could, as long as she could, until her throat began to hurt. She coughed for several seconds and then wiped some tears from her eyes. After taking a deep breath of the bad air, she put her helmet back on and got onto her SCAF. Time to go home.

Hi! My name is Allycat, and this is my short story "A Little Trance." The story is about a college-aged couple--Riley and Sonia--and Sonia's little weekend to herself. With all her roommates away, Sonia finally has time to fully regress! ...with only one small hiccup beforehand: Riley walking in as she's putting away some of her little stuff. Now Riley knows (and wholeheartedly supports!), and Sonia still has the time to herself! Just with one person knowing, and caring an awful lot. Anyway, this is the first chapter! I'm not sure how many there will be, but it'll get done Eventually(TM). I hope you enjoy : ) Chapter One “I’ll see you Monday, Maddie!” Sonia called from her bedroom, “See you then!” her response. A quiet exchange of murmurs and a pregnant pause filled the gap, punctuated by the door finally shutting. From her bedroom Sonia couldn’t see what held it open for so long, but she didn’t care. She had to clean before Ri- “Hey Sunnie, how’s my girl doing?” Riley swung open and leaned on the door frame, staring at Sonia’s back. Her face flushed pinker than the pacifier sat plainly on her nightstand, now swooped up and shoved away into a drawer as the door swept forward. “H..hey Riley! I thought you were gonna text first before you came in! How did you get in?” Sonia’s voice warbled and stammered, anxious and rushed out. She layered her worries with a smile, one that Riley read through easily. Her eyes betrayed her, imbibing like a doe’s in dusk traffic–Riley honestly felt bad. “What were you uh…what were you shovin away?” Riley inquired, trying to peer around her girlfriend’s shoulder. Instinctively, Sonia’s hands swung behind her and pressed against the handle as if to glue it in place. “N…N…nothing! Nothing nothing nothing! Just had to tidy up!” “Well, in that case, that’s not nothing, is it now?” Sonia’s face turned a shade redder than her comforter, in which she wished she could curl up and die. Sadly, Riley could bound the four steps over to her drawer, then turn and jump on Sonia if she began to melt away into shame. She would have to tell her. “Listen, Riley…” Defeat. “Yes…?” Concern. “P…please, can you just drop it? It’s nothing bad, I promise. Please.” Palpitating. “Sonia, listen…” Soothing. “...” Descending. “You don’t have to look at me. But I want you to know that whatever it is, I won’t push you on it. Though I’m sure that talking about whatever it is will be helpful. I promise I won’t judge you.” “...” Considering. Riley stepped forward. “ I think this is the perfect opportunity, Sunshine.” Careful step after careful step, covered by careful words. “It’s your choice. In fact, I won’t ask a single follow-up question. You tell me what it is, we’ll drop it and move on.” “...” Ascended. Riley picked up Sonia’s hands, now gently resting at her sides. They floated between their chests parallel to each other; unparalleled relief pouring through Sonia’s heart. “I love you, Sonia. I don’t want you to think there’s anything I’d judge you for, or anything I couldn’t look past.” Sincere. “...” Preparing. “A pacifier. An adult, pink, pacifier.” Pacified. … Severe, unadulterated angst. A quiet beat, followed by a shrug. “Okay!” Riley chirped, roosting the two atop the bed. “So you got the place to yourself this weekend, huh? Anything fun you got planned?” Sonia stared, dumbfounded. “That’s...that’s it?” She sighed. “That’s all you have to say?” “Oh, my bad! You said no follow-up questions. But that shouldn’t count as a follow-up question, should it? Does that count as a follow-u–” She stopped, slyly alert. “These do not count as follow-up questions,” She smugly tapped her forehead twice, then slightly dropped the act. “Unless you consider it such. Then I’m sorry.” Sonia blinked hard. “No, not that. I told you I have an adult pacifier in my drawer and you’re not even weirded out by it. Why are you so co “I told you, I wasn’t going to ask any follow-up questions. I think that was a fair compromise to offer, you know how I feel about this kinda stuff. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me about stuff. If I’m being honest, I’d feel weirded out if you didn’t tell me what it was.” She paused again, delayed in tossing her hands and eyelids up in panic and shock. “Not that that wouldn’t be okay! But the imagination is a wondrous place. I would have had to assume it was like, a doll’s head or something.” Sonia couldn’t help but smile. “I think you want me to, though” Smirking. Sonia now couldn’t help but stutter. “I I I n n no! No! I just want to ke… Sonia jumped upward, trailed by Riley’s hand. “Hold on there, dear.” Riley held Sonia dead in her tracks. “We’ve been dating for a year and a half now. You only clam up like this when I’m right, and when you’re unbelievably embarrassed. And for the last year and a half, every time you’re wrong you’ve been the latter, too! So, admit it! You want me to ask!” “...” Desce Riley stuck her finger out toward her lowering chin. “Uhp! Not this time! Look at me and admit it, Sonia. You want me to ask questions.” Sonia strained her eyes slightly upward because she refused to move any higher, forced into meeting her supposed sharp stare. Eye contact stung like a knife’s edge, making her bleed into her cheeks. “Is it healthy for this much blood to be going to your face in one afternoon?” Sonia squeaked and buried into Riley’s chest like a toddler. She needed to get away for a minute, her object permanence regressing. “I’ll admit something first,” Riley replaced her hands onto Sonia’s back, holding her softly. “I’m dying to ask questions. But I’m not going to until you give me the go-ahead. It seems like this is something you’ve been wanting to tell me, but haven’t had the opportunity to. Or, rather, you’ve been too flustered thinking of it to even make an attempt. Based on this reaction? “It’s the latter again.” Soul-piercing. “You know, your blush really brings out the blue in your eyes.” “YOU CAN ASK QUESTIONS!” Sonia muffledly screamed without missing a beat, having had enough of this embarrassment. Quietly, she quivered in Riley’s bowed arms, her arms quavering as she grasped her shirt. “Okay, what’s it for? Tell me everything.” Empathy. Compassion. Love. Sonia stilled, cooling into the comfort.

An intelligent college girl attempts self-hypnosis to try and alleviate her stress, wth a bit of small ABDL twist... Come on… come on… just say it already! The young woman chastised herself as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, an act she had been doing for the last ten minutes as she desperately tried to force herself to say the “magic words” that would free her from her worry, if only for a little bit. Abigail, or Abby for short, was a straight A student, graduating with honors as valedictorian, currently attending college on a scholarship. However, you wouldn’t know it by her current attire, dressed in a baby blue onesie with a ruffled skirt around the waist that did absolutely nothing to hide the pronounced bulk of the diaper she was wearing underneath it all. Her long brown hair had been done up into pigtails and a pacifier dangled on a string from her neck, completing the look of an overgrown toddler rather than the intelligent young woman she really was. All of which had been Abby’s goal all along. For while she was very smart, she also tended to become a neurotic mess when stressed, which was becoming more and more frequent as she got older. By total accident while scrolling online, Abby had discovered the world of Adult Babies and had latched onto the idea of regressing to a simpler time, one when she didn’t have to worry about essays, or dissertations, or any of the stresses of her adult life, if even for a short time. However, while this method had done wonders to elevate her stress levels, there was still always this nagging worry in the back of her mind that had sullied the experience for her and made her longe for the true Adult Baby experience. Like she always did when she encountered a problem needing to be solved, Abby had thrown herself into research, eventually finding a potential solution to this issue: hypnosis. Despite the more fantastical fabrications of hypnosis in media, there still was a factual basis in mentally training oneself into a more desirable state fully within their control, one which Abby fully intended to use to her advantage, commissioning for herself a hypnosis tape that would finally let her live out her dreams to the fullest. The wait had been truly agonizing, but eventually the tape had arrived. Abby had made sure to commit the instructions to memory, listening to the tape every night for a week before she had finally worked up the courage to attempt a trial run. Diapering herself up, Abby had stood infront of her mirror for almost an hour before she had finally been able to mutter the trigger phrase: “It’s Baby Time… It’s Baby Time… It’s Baby Time.” That was it, three times like in the movie Beetlejuice, and everything had changed. Like magic, Abby had fallen onto her padded rear as her mind regressed back to a more infantile mindset like she had always wanted. For the next hour Abby had been in heaven as she crawled around her apartment, played with toys and even used her diaper without a care in the world. All her memories and mental capacities were still present, just taking a short backseat to the more babyish mindset and once the hour had been up Abby had immediately reverted back to her old self with full memories of her time spent as a carefree baby, happier than she could ever remember feeling and eager to do it again the following week. This was actually her third time trying this, and still her nerves betrayed her as she continued to second guess her preparations. She had made sure to install childproof locks onto all the cupboards and drawers, triple checked that anything dangerous was well out of her reach, and had even gone as far to buy and set up an adult sized playpen that took up a large chunk of her apartment, ensuring that she had a safe area to play in. Sitting in that very playpen, she glared at the mirror on her living room table as she tried to will herself to take that last step once more. Taking a deep breath, she did her best to push everything else out of her mind as she worked her mouth. “It’s Baby Time…” That’s once. “It’s… Baby Time…” That’s twice, come on, Abby! You’re almost there! “It’s… Baby… Time!” Like flicking a switch, Abby’s eyes lost some of their intelligence as the hypnosis worked its magic, drool beginning to drip down her chin as her mouth babbled away unintelligently. The regressed Abby wasted little time in getting on her hands and knees and crawling across the padded floor of her playpen, her poofy behind wiggling behind her as she inched closer and closer towards her toys scattered around her. Suddenly, Abby stopped, as she realized that something was missing, but her infantile mind was having trouble grasping just what that was. Your pacifier! Came a voice from the back of Abby’s mind. Your pacifier! Hearing this voice, Abby looked around for a moment before glancing down and spotting her pacifier dangling from around her neck, giggling and cooing as she grabbed it and popped it into her mouth, suckling away at it like it was the most normal and natural thing in the world. With her Paci now located, Abby continued her journey over to her toys, grabbing a few lettered blocks and beginning to stack them up one after the other. Occasionally, usually by accident, she would manage to form a simple word from the blocks, but she was far more focused on simply stacking them up and knocking them back down again, giggling to herself every time like it was the funniest thing in the world to her. Once the blocks finally became boring, Abby switched to the stacking rings, and then to just cuddling her stuffed Build-A-Bear as she rolled around on her back, giggling and cooing ever more as she waved the stuffed animal over her head. In the middle of all this, the urge to relieve herself briefly made itself known, but Abby barely registered the sensation before it transitioned into the new sensation of her diaper growing warm beneath her as she freely wet herself. Life for the moment was just one happy moment after another for Abby, and she was enjoying every moment of it as a week’s worth of stress and worry just melted away. About forty or so minutes into her Baby Time, however, there was a knock at the door. Abby was far too engrossed in her play to even notice it, not even when the lock turned and the door began to open. “Abby? You here?” Erica called out as she stepped into Abby’s apartment. She knew it was rude to just waltz into her best friend’s apartment like this, but Abby had trusted her with a key to her place for this very reason, so when she had been unable to reach Abby after multiple attempts she had decided to check for herself. As she closed the door behind her, her eyes were immediately drawn to the colourful playpen in the middle of the room. “Huh, what’s that doing he–“ Erica’s eyes went wide upon seeing who it was occupying the oversized playpen, running over and peering inside. “A–Abby!?” Hearing her name, Abby stopped playing for a moment as she looked up at the strange woman towering over her. A spark of recognition flashed in her eyes upon seeing the familiar woman, babbling out “Recra!” as she made to reach out for the woman. Finally, someone new to play with her. Erica was at complete loss for words as she took in the sight of her best friend since childhood dressed like an oversized infant and playing with toys in a massive playpen. “… Haha, you really got me, Abby. Good one…” Erica replied, expecting Abby to snap back to normal now that the “joke” had played itself out, but Abby did none of that, continuing to babble and coo at her friend. “I’m serious, Abby, enough is enou–“ Erica froze as she watched a strange look come over Abby’s face for a moment before the regressed girl began to grunt and push, her face turning bright red as she took on a look that Erica had seen many times from babysitting her infant nieces and nephews. “Abby, you’re not going to–“ Her answer came in a loud release of gas from Abby’s bottom before the diaper, which Erica had only just now noticed, beneath her onesie began to balloon outward as it began to fill up. If there was any doubt in Erica’s mind what she had just witnessed, it was instantly dispelled by the telltale odor of a very messy diaper that wafted up to her nose. Stepping back, Erica just stared as Abby just continued to play, not caring in the slightest that she had just messed herself right before her best friend’s shocked eyes. Worry began to fill Erica’s mind as she desperately tried to make sense of this strange and outlandish scenario she had suddenly found herself in. Had Abby finally snapped under the pressure? Should she call someone? What should she do? Breathing for a moment, Erica did her best to try and rationalize the situation. This whole set up with the playpen, onesie, and even the diaper seemed much too planned out for a sudden bout of madness, and a glance around the apartment revealed that childproof locks had been set up ahead of time, revealing a hint of premeditation and forethought involved. Stepping into the kitchen, Erica quickly noticed an empty bottle sitting on the counter, a note pinned beneath it. Picking up the note, she recognized Abby’s meticulous handwriting as she read. To whoever reads this, this must mean that you’ve found out about my little secret. Please, don’t panic, the method I used to do this is only temporary and will automatically undo itself after an hour has passed. If you must get an explanation now, all you have to do is say “It’s Grown Up Time” three times and I’ll immediately revert back to normal. I know you must have a million questions right now, and I don’t blame you, and I will explain as to the best of my abilities why I have done this, but the short version is that this to me is a form of relaxation and/or therapy to me, a way to help relieve the stresses of daily life. Please, I beg you not to judge me too hard for this, and I’m sure we can work out some kind of understanding between us eventually. Signed, Abigail. P.S. If it’s not too much trouble, could you perhaps give me a change while you’re here? Pretty please? I’ll probably need one before the time is up. “Typical Abby…” Erica chuckled to herself upon reading the note. While she did have many questions, she was relieved that Abby had found a means of relaxing and distressing that suited her, often telling the overachiever that she was for too high strung for her own good. Judging by the blissful state she had seen her in just moments before, this method seemed to be working too, and Erica felt bad about ending it prematurely right now. “She did say it would end in an hour, so I have some time…” Smiling, Erica walked back over to the playpen and peered inside again, gazing down at Abby as the diapered girl continued to play without a care in the world, even while wearing a very messy diaper. “She did ask nicely, so what kind of friend would I be if I wasn’t willing to help?” Leaning down, Erica ticked Abby’s belly, resulting in a cacophony of laughter to spill forth from the regressed Abby. “Does Abby want her diapee changed? Would she like that?” Only getting more giggles in response, Erica quickly spotted a diaper bag sitting nearby. Picking it up, she carefully stepped into the playpen and couched down over the oblivious Abby. Well versed in the ways of changing diapers, Erica carefully unsnapped the buttons on Abby’s onesie, awning at the adorable prints scattered across her diaper even in its used state. Undoing the tapes, Erica braced herself as she opened up the diaper and the smell of the fresh mess wafted into the air, quickly pulling the diaper out from under Abby and rolling it into a ball to be thrown away in a bit. Pulling out a container of wipes from the back, Erica went to work on cleaning Abby’s bottom, the could wipe prompting Abby to coo even more as it tickled her skin. One quick application of baby oil and powder later, and Erica unfolded a fresh diaper to slide under Abby’s bottom and tape her securely into to. During the whole ordeal, Erica couldn’t help but think on how surreal this whole thing was as she changed her genius friend into a clean diaper. Still, Erica had always been a mothering type, and seeing Abby in such a way was bringing out her maternal side in full force. “There, all comfy and safe in your new diapeee! Does the baby like that?” “Wike! Wike!” Abby babbled happily from behind her pacifier. “Now, you stay right here while I go get you a reward…” Picking up the used diaper, Erica stepped into the kitchen and disposed of it into the trash bin. After washing her hands, she scooped up the baby bottle still sitting on the counter and filled it up with milk from the fridge. A few seconds in the microwave, and Erica returned to Abby with a warm bottle of milk in her hand. “Bottle time!” She declared as she stepped back into the playpen and sat down. Pulling her regressed friend over to her and positioning her so she was seated comfortably in her lap, Erica popped the pacifier free from Abby’s mouth. The regressed young woman looked on the verge of tears at the loss of their beloved Paci, but it was quickly forgotten as the nib of a bottle replaced it, their suckling now earning them warm milk in return. “You know, I don’t know if you can understand me right now, Abby…” Erica began to say as she continued to bottle feed her friend, “… but I’m really enjoying this new side of you, and I wouldn’t mind getting a chance to help you experience this again. What do you say, would you like it if I became your new ‘Mommy’ for a bit?” As her belly filled with warm milk, Abby’s regressed mind seemed to register the word “Mommy”, sighing happily as she shifted closer into Erica’s lap. The new caregiver just smiled as she continued to feed her best friend, hoping that this wouldn’t be the last time she would get the chance to do so.