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Captain’s log: Entry 440 Name: Ellen Huxley Date: Indeterminate Mission Status: Accomplished As I write this most pivotal and anticipated entry, I can only think of pitying all the foolish souls who had doubted me over the years. History has a habit of giving its geniuses occasions to rise to, as well as obstacles to overcome. So, in my ocean of piety and wisdom, I extend my hand in forgiveness. Do not wallow in your foolishness. It only served to make my story better. My story began one crisp Autumn morning, a day before I was born. However, going back that far will take far too much time. The wonders of my upbringing will no doubt be covered in both the novelization and feature-film of my life story, both of which destined for critical acclaim in themselves. For brevity’s sake, I will summarize the important parts. I was born to a loving family of two humble enterprise-owners/entrepreneurs. I made top marks in all my classes, only threatening to fall short in supplementary subjects like gym or art. My success continued into college, where I missed making valedictorian by two points (one of many injustices I will not be able to elaborate on). I had been accepted into my country’s esteem space program, thanks solely to my natural wit and tenacity. Those quick to slander my good name might suggest that it was instead due to my father funding the program with literal bags of money. My father is simply a man who cares deeply about the development of space science. The fact that he was unable to name a single astronaut over the course of several interviews, you may cite, is completely irrelevant. It is simply another vicious slander tactic propagated by my life’s most persistent villains: jealous poor people. My time spent learning and training for the space program was unforgettable. Unforgettable, and rather boring. While I choose not to bore you with excess details (you are welcome) know that my supervisor always used me to set an example for others, which is always a good thing. I bet you are raring to hear the exciting accounts from my space voyage and interdimensional travels. Well, I was just getting to that part, so calm down already. My supervisors implored me to be careful during my first solo mission, but I knew what I was doing. They told me to not travel past a set range of lightyears, but I knew better. They continued to blather on about protocols and safety hazards and other boring babbles that didn’t concern me at the time. I was out looking for discovery, not safe test flights. That became much easier when I put my supervisors’ communications on mute, not letting the background noise drown out my train of thought. Admittedly, this next portion of the story is not one I am proud of. I know you’re simply dying to know how I came about the discovery of interdimensional travel. With a heavy heart, I must admit that the circumstances of that discovery are—for lack of better terms—foggy and random. Shortly after muting my supervisors, I found myself well beyond the measured range of distance that, upon a gut dropping reflection, they might have warned me about. To clarify, I was not lost in space. More accurately, I was temporarily directionally challenged in space. I felt the air in my lungs become tight. I didn’t even have the air to shriek in panic. Not in panic. In a controlled and dignified spree of emotions. I had everything under control. And, in my spree of controlled emotions, I must have hit an unfamiliar combination of important buttons. Before I knew it, I had activated the hyper drive—or perhaps the warp drive—I had activated some type of drive, and the ship was rocketing off deeper in the unknowns of space. Admittedly, not the best way to open space journey. I awoke in a daze, my head rattling like loose change in a bum’s coffee can. What was left of the computer’s display showed the atmosphere was breathable outside. I suited up and took one small step onto this strange new world. And that was when I met them. I had not even made it five feet outside of my ship before I made my first discovery. A pair of long, firm, gigantic legs. After that, I made my second discovery. The equally gigantic woman they belonged to. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by more women of equally tower-like stature. All eyes were on me—a trend not too different from my daily life. Even in the far reaches of space, my greatness was as plain as the hairs on my head. I suppose these are the consequences of being so special. I don’t believe these people have a name. At least, not one that translates easily. Not one I’m liable to give. So, using what I know now, I give them one myself. I will dub them the Amazons, as decided upon right now, as I write this. Not to be named after that forest that I read about that one time in middle school. No, it is a reference to those tall ladies that I read about that one time in a comic book in middle school. They look damningly similar to us. Only, as stated before, much taller. In fact, to the untrained eye, someone like me might even be confused as one of their children, as preposterous as that may sound. Unsurprisingly, they had strength to match their size. They lifted my rocket ship like a child’s toy off the sidewalk. After that, one of the massive maidens proceeded to lift me up like said child. When I felt the giant woman’s hand start to wander to places it dare not go, I responded with a few choice words. More than a few, actually. Tone must be a universal language, because she quickly pulled her hand back. I turned my head to see what the other giant space ladies were doing. The ones holding my ship seemed rather…unimpressed? Like my craft was as flavorless as yesterdays’ tomatoes. An idea crossed my mind, sometime after that, that I was not the first traveler from the stars to come their way. Perhaps my stellar entrance had some fierce competition from the past. To think, other lifeforms with space travel technology that put us to shame. It was rather disheartening to think about. Now, based on media you may have consumed before reading this, you may think that a species of ultra-intelligent, ultra-powerful, giant aliens are something to fear. But I assure you, as you read on, you’ll find that the Amazons are nothing to run from. Even if you tried…sorry, I am getting ahead of myself. Let me continue my case. At heart, the Amazons are a gracious and curious people. After our initial meeting, they immediately took me in and examined me for what felt like hours. On that note, hours are apparently not a standardized unit of time here. I am still unsure how the Amazons record time here. This planet seems to have a regular day and night cycle, albeit one the looks to run longer than our own. I have since developed a new method for tracking time, which I will delve into later. After a thorough examination, I was carried off to meet with the leader of these people. Now, while I am an expert on many subjects, architecture was not one of them, alien or otherwise. Still, I could tell this place was important. The building was like a fairy-tale castle that was made with modern sleek sensibility. I am not a fan of the term “futuristic”. How can you capture an aesthetic choice that does not exist yet? But everything about the Amazons screams science-fiction, leaving me at a loss for words. It is truly an indescribable place, and you will just have to see it for yourself. I met with the queen, and she was immediately enamored by me. She was quick to take me into her arms and shower me with affection. She smiled brightly, bombarded me with kisses, hugging me tightly against her very, very large bosom. I can confirm that love at first sight is very real. Even if it was being shared by an interdimensional alien queen and a prodigal space explorer. In hindsight, it should have raised a red flag when the queen treated me, a foreign invader, like one of her kin. If my government had an alien land on our proverbial doorstep, we would have squashed it like a fly on the wall. Yet the Amazons took me in instantly and insistently. Oh well. Analyzing afterthoughts does me no good now. I doubt the end result would be any different. From that day on, I never left the queen’s side. Not that she would have let me. The queen had an eye for quality. She always had me wrapped around her giant fingers, like a precious jewel. I had a front row seat to all the major happenings of Amazon society. True, I could not understand most of it. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that I was the queen’s special little space explorer. I was hand-fed the most extravagant meals by the castle staff. When the queen saw it fit, I was strolled around the castle grounds and even on the streets of the Amazon people. All eyes were on me, and I would not have had it any other way. The Amazons had made a room for me, instantaneously. On my first day, the queen and her men took me to an empty room. A blank canvas. They fashioned me with a flashy-looking helmet, which beeped and hummed as stereotypically as a sci-fi device could. I stood there, while the queen held a tablet, quickly tapping away at a screen whose contents were invisible from my angle. The queen squealed with excitement, while I was left sitting in quiet confusion. I still remember how excited she looked on that day. How her smile threatened to shine brighter than the room itself. And the room did shine. It glowed like the inside of a lightbulb, engulfing everything in a white flash. I was unable to tell if it bothered the Amazons as much as it did me. I had to keep my eyes shut to stop my corneas from being burned. I do know that the queen reacted before me, as I heard her let out an excited squeal. When I finally opened my eyes, I could not spare the same reaction. It was a gigantic nursery, plain and simple. A supersized slice of home décor, fashioned executively by Amazon sensibilities. There were walls generated of pastel blue and pink stripes that did not make this room look any slimming. There was a window that generated a view of the outside world, made only so I could have a familiar perspective of time. There was a crib, with bars that rose like pillars meant to hold up old important buildings. They were unscalable by design, to prevent any poorly plotted escape attempts. The crib’s mattress was soft and wide, big enough to comfortably accommodate four people my size, but I slept inside alright. There were toys upon toys. More toys than I knew what to do with or would ever ask for. As many as there were, I all lacked in the fine details. Bunny rabbits with too many eyes. Duckies with misaligned wings. It would have been more noticeable had I not been swarmed with options. Too many, I was spoiled for options, but I was entertained alright. There were books. Giant books in the language I still do not understand, that would have to be read to me during the day and before naps. My understanding of their language was still infantile at best, but I was learning alright. There were diapers. So very many diapers. Diapers that puffed and piled out of their drawers, demanding to be worn. Diapers with coats of countless colors, always perfectly matching my current outfit, despite never staying on for long. Diapers with tapes the strength of industrial glue, that the Amazons could peel away with ease. They were thick and poofy and waddle-inducing, but they fit me alright. The queen’s design was made to give her newest guest an unforgettable stay. And everything fit her alright. Better than alright. Everything fit me perfectly. That was just how she wanted it. Now, at first, I did not appreciate this design. The reasons why currently escape me. The picture of my timeline from denial to acceptance is drawn with washed and faded markers. I know that I disobeyed the queen. I think that I yelled and screamed. I think I tried to escape, which sounds foolhardy as I write it down. I know that I was carried into another room, which was colder and menacing and obscure, I think. I know there was a machine there, I think was like a tanning bed. A scary, foreboding tanning bed. I know that I was placed inside. After that, my thoughts truly became jumbled. When I came to, I was feeling much more appropriate. Much more appreciative. My thoughts were much less foggy afterwards. It was decided that I was ready to give my new room a second try. I knew the result, and the burst of excitement I felt when looking upon my room the second time. This time, I said to myself “Hey, self, this place isn’t that bad. In fact, this place is wonderful!” The queen must have seen the sparkle in my eyes, because she shared the same one. I may not have been a communications expert, but we were both on the same page. Who knew I was this great with foreign relations? The queen took great care as she laid me back for my first diaper change. My bare bottom was laid on an open diaper, that had to be a few inches thick. Softer than a cloud, the padding was a tricolor mishmash that demanded attention. Just like its wearer. The powder she poured filled the air and dulled my senses further. It smelled of the sweetest flowers and worked wonders at masking any bad smells that came near that region. She pulled together all three tapes on each side, nice and snuggly. It’s funny. Perhaps the problem was (this may be hard to believe) me. Perhaps I had thoughts about staying out of diapers? As nonsensical as those sounds. I understood then what had transpired in that room. My queen had bottled away, or severed, or blocked all the rejection I had. And, in her ocean of piety and wisdom, left my mind with all the other thoughts that made me so special. Even alien machines fail to snuff out my award-winning personality. And, to make sure I stayed this way, the queen and her men added another special present to my room afterwards. In the corner of my room sat a box. At certain times during the day(?) the box would turn on automatically. Every day, that box flashed swarms of bright color. Colors that don’t exist in normal circumstances. Colors that are transcended beyond green and blue and red primary hue. The best colors in the world. The room would fill with sounds that match the colors in evolution and captivation. I lie on my tummy and watch this display of a lifetime, every day. I had lost countless periods of time watching that box. When I awoke, signal by the box turning off or the interjection of a staff member, I was always found in dire need of a change. Oh, right! The changes! Here, the passage of time is as persistent as it is undecipherable. My lessons on the subjects have been deemed the by queen to be supplementary. Still, having an idea for the length of my stay would be helpful. Clever girl I am, I have been tracking my time spent here, not in meals or steps, but in diaper changes. It was the obvious choice, seeing as how they happen so consistently and frequently. The increased frequency of diaper changes in recent times, however, may end up distorting my perception of my time here. Additionally, there are times, commonly after a nap, where I cannot confidently confirm if a diaper change has occurred or not. Currently, I have been on this planet for three hundred and forty diaper changes. That number will soon increase to three hundred and forty-one. My diaper has taken quite a soak since I first began writing this entry, and a servant may come and check on me. Despite my advanced wit, I am not always able to tell when I have wet myself, or if I am ready for a change. The ones larger than me are much more adapt at telling when I need one. At the current moment, however, I am confident that my padding is sufficiently soggy enough to warrant one. Now, I know that I thoroughly made my case for why living with the Amazons is a wonderful experience. Given that, I perfectly understand if all who read this would want to share it with me. Well, you are more than welcome to accept my humble invitation. I insist. Playtime was starting to get boring anyway. The trip really isn’t all that complicated. The Amazons are much more learned than us when it comes to space travel. After I arrived, it did not take them long to find the exact location of my old home, lightyears away. Lightyears were like inches to them. I told the queen, best as I could, about a few familiar faces I thought should be aboard the first flight. Ones who are no doubt reading this. Ones who I will not list, so as not to spoil the surprise. Sure enough, she was able to pull them up on a display in real time. Lightyears away, but the picture was crystal clear. I don’t know how the Amazons will come. It still feels too early for a mass invasion. Though, they are no doubt equipped for one. In a war of the worlds, Amazons come out on top, in every simulation. I imagine one-on-one abductions would be the likely answer. Perhaps in the dead of night. Maybe even in broad daylight, if someone here is feeling impatient. Imagine minding your own business when poof! You find yourself in the arms of a loving Amazon who knows what they want and will never let it go. Speaking from experience. I believe it will become a reality sooner than you can predict. Prepare yourself for culture shock. Amazon adoptions will send you for a whirlwind. Abductions or adoptions? It’s just a matter of perspective. That is the other reason I am writing this address. I am expecting a slew of new playmates. When you finally get here, you all better be on your best behavior. There are plenty of jealous Amazons here who want their own little Ellen Huxley to hug and coddle and pamper. When you eventually get here, don’t make me look bad. Do what your Amazon says. Let them dress you, feed you, change you. They all clearly know best. They would not have been able to find us so easily otherwise. When you inevitably get here, get comfortable. I have a hunch that the trip is one way. You might as well enjoy this new age of space travel. If not, well, Amazons have ways of pulling out combative urges, and pushing the sweet dispositions to the front. Again, speaking from experience. To end this entry, I will leave with a tutorial that will prove exceptionally useful during a lifetime in the Amazon’s world: messing your diaper. Now, don’t shy away from this. A full diaper will find its way to you before you know it. You might as well get some pointers from an expert while you still have the chance. The trick is to distract yourself. Don’t focus too hard on the mechanics, less you psych yourself out. When your body gives the signal, if your body gives the signal, hunker down and get ready. Stare off at a spot in the distance. Fancy wallpaper. An old toy. A patch of flowers. It does not matter exactly what. Your body only needs one push before everything falls into place. Remember to breathe, take a minute to recompose yourself if needed. And voila! A full diaper, ready for changing. Believe me, it gets easier, and will soon become a thoughtless action. Something to note: While the powder easily masked the scent of a full diaper, it does nothing for the weight or the feeling. Now, I must bid you adieu. It appears my instructions proved too effective, and my need for a change has become much more dire. Nothing to worry about. Dropping off important cargo is all in a day’s work for a prodigal space explorer. I will wail into my monitor, alerting the staff to pick up the pace. Just remember, when face-to-face with your new Amazon, use every trick I taught you for an easy adjustment period. And when you finally realize how much good a lifetime spent with an Amazon can do for you, tell me all about it during our latest playdate. Seeing you soon, Ellen Huxley

There’s no justice for Littles. Sophia knew that. Every Little did. Experiencing a particular brand of injustice was a lot different than just hearing about it, however. Sophia sat naked in her cell in the JBRC: The Juvenile Behavior Retention Center. She and every other Little there had been tried and convicted in an actual factual Amazon Court of Law of committing actual factual crimes. Her and her fellow dead men and women had committed real crimes; nothing so pedestrian as shoplifting or jaywalking. Nor was it the harder crimes of drug possession with intent to distribute, driving under the influence, burglary, or attempted bribery. They definitely hadn’t committed one of the non-crimes of wetting their pants, losing their jobs, or being the wrong combination of cute and independent at the same time. All of those could be washed away with an excuse about how they weren’t ‘raised right’ and needed to ‘start over’. It was the same thing with white collar crimes. Littles got convicted of embezzlement, blackmail, fraud, and extortion all the time and at a much higher rate than other types of crimes. Communication, information technology, and data manipulations were something of great equalizers as it stood. Whether the Littles convicted of such offenses were guilty of those crimes or just victims of Amazonian and Tweener sabotage was another matter entirely. For anyone who could fit on an Amazon’s hip, becoming a victim of a frame up would be just as bad as doing the deed anyways: poor Little things needed protection from the big scary world all the time. All of those people likely found themselves Adopted or put into an orphanage until their will was sufficiently broken. Guilty or not, Littles didn’t tend to sleep behind bars unless cribs were involved. There was a reason why even small town police stations had overnight nurseries for their smallest offenders. Littles could be criminals, same as everybody else. It’s easy to be a criminal in a world where every law and social norm is stacked against you. Few people become criminals for the fun or thrill of it. People become criminals when the system they live in can’t meet their needs and so they operate outside and against that system. For most Littles what they needed and what non-Littles decided they needed were at complete odds; so crime became inevitable at some level. For example, most Littles weren’t allowed to drive cars that were too big for them or to modify homes that they didn’t own. But most cars and homes weren’t sized for Littles, and the ones that were put a target on their back. Why live in a Little sized apartment or drive in a Little sized car when that just advertises to baby crazy Amazons where you’re sleeping and let them know of the treasure they’ll find inside once they sweet talk your landlord. Littles got strapped into car seats in lieu of speeding tickets. Better to ;live and drive in out of the way places and roads and invest in heavy window tinting. Everything was legal when the cops weren’t around. Cops or not, most Littles didn’t see the inside of a jail or a prison cell. Amazons wouldn’t have it. It hurt their own narrative that Littles were children who didn’t really know any better. Better (for the Amazons) to pretend that the Littles were just naughty children acting out for attention, subconsciously wanting a Mommy or Daddy to take care of them. That’s what made being in an actual JBRC such a grim accomplishment. JBRC’s were a relic of the past- a bygone age when Littles, Tweeners, and Amazons were supposedly equal in adulthood. Littles were still put in padded pants and ended up strapped in strollers, but it was punishment not predestination. Slowly but surely the pendulum had been swinging to a kinder, gentler, and altogether more insidious form of forced regression, but places like these still existed despite polite society not liking to acknowledge it. Along either coast, Maturosis had taken hold of the public consciousness as the primary and ‘acceptable’ reason to kidnap small folk and shove a nipple between their lips. The farther inland one traveled, the flimsier the pretense got and the more the mask of giant society slipped. Amazons wanted to turn Littles into babies so that they always had someone to lord over, dominate, humiliate and punish for the sake of their own projections and insecurities. Some were just more honest about it than others. There were states where being “immature” or “bratty” or “not making boom-booms and tinkles” on command for a stranger in the bathroom were enough of a reason for someone Sophia’s size to get their panties ripped off, bunched up, and tossed away in a diaper pail forever. The cruelty didn’t end there. Sophia couldn’t remember how many times she’d overheard Amazons bragging to each other how many Little boys and girls they’d kidnapped like they were freaking pets or trophies. Or how many times she’d heard lines like “My little Mary Sue is such an angel now that we’ve gotten her all sorted out. She only needs thorough spankings three or four times a week to remind her and otherwise she’s a perfect sweetie.” Deep down, it had all worn on Sophia. Made her numb. Not even afraid anymore. That’s probably why she did what she did. That’s probably why she’d done what she’d done. The Littles here had been convicted of real, actual, violent felonies: The kind of crimes that made normal people shudder and decent people squirm. Terrible shit. Morally inexcusable. The stuff that might get one a documentary played by an A list movie star if only they were more physically imposing or if there were Little actors that didn’t talk to puppets. Whether the other Littles had actually done what they’d been accused of didn’t matter. What Sophia had or hadn’t done didn’t matter, either. The kangaroo courts that had bounced them here were just as swift and awful as any Amazonian Adoption Agency. What mattered was that this last month of her life was one of the only times Sophia could remember that she had felt like an adult. Like an Amazon. Like a threat. She’d confessed, tearless, after a thorough spanking. No amount of thrashings, enemas, mouth soapings, or days spent in dirty diapers without rash relief would get her to change her story that she’d done that awful thing. There was no one-armed Amazon man like in the police and media theories. According to all official documents, she was a monster of the most sadistic and unrepentant kind. She’d stared dead-eyed at her federally mandated foster parents, and said that she would do the same thing to them that she had supposedly done to that poor Tweener and her Little brother. The mittens and the booties with the spikes on the insides didn’t come off until after sentencing and transport. The top bars never came off the crib. Every diaper change and highchair feeding had maximum restraints. Her pacifier bulb only deflated when they were trying to shove something else in her mouth or get her to change her story. Truly, Sophia had never had such a splendid time in all of her short life. To see and hear the looks of fear from people so much bigger than her. To know that her very existence was unnerving to them. If she was going to die, she was going to do it as something anathema to the giants. And she was going to die. She’d been sentenced to full on Ego Death. The Amazons called it something else; a “Reset:” or something, but that was just a nice way of saying they were going to fry her brain. Her body would live on, but she’d stop being herself, stop being Sophia. She’d be nothing more than a bundle of neurons incapable of growth or learning; the perfect Amazon babydoll. She could shit herself for days on end without a change and gum applesauce until her eyes closed for good and she drew her last breath. She could be shaved hairless and be shoved up a rich Amazon’s vagina and forced to undergo unbirth and rebirth. They could give her a stupid name to replace her old one. Fine. Whatever. She wouldn’t know it. She’d be dead in all but name within the week. She’d made her peace with that long before the gavel fell. There’d be no stay of execution. There’d be no appeal. The week was just enough time to select, screen, vet, and prep Amazons who didn’t mind having mind wiped scum under their roof. The waiting list was still disturbingly long as far as Sophia knew. Sophia shook her head and closed her eyes at that thought. It wouldn’t be her problem soon. Nothing would. She’d have no problems. Her body was about to be someone else’s. Her stomach rumbled and she shuffled on bare feet towards the hole in the floor that doubled as a toilet. A pained, but delighted groan came out of her and she dumped her load, letting herself smile ruefully. The food was still laced with laxatives- the giants didn’t want their future babies to get constipated- but the drugs weren’t nearly as strong as some of the products whispered about online. “I hope I get some kind of infection” she whispered to herself, though she didn’t have the courage to do anything unsanitary to ensure it. The cells were padded, monitored and temperature controlled. The prison uniforms could be removed and the interaction with the guards was minimal. There were no other default restraints unless the prisoner showed signs of attempting self-harm; didn’t want any would-be parents to be deprived of their prize. As a result the prisoners were given an unprecedented amount of autonomy. They were allowed to feed themselves, go to the bathroom as they needed, and shout across cells to each other. In the short time she’d been here, she’d seen Littles curse out guards and smear their own shit on the glass dividers between their cells and the main walkway that ran between them. Sophia settled for slowly pacing her cell nude while flicking her bean after lights out. Some of the other damned didn’t wait for that long and actively talked dirty to each other while masturbating. This treatment was all so incredibly unreal to her. The Amazons didn’t want to baby her lest they develop some kind of false sense of security for her to exploit and in doing so gave her arguably more freedom than she’d had in her entire life. They were going to fry her brain and in the lead up were being completely honest with her and allowing her to be completely honest with them. Every Little should get this opportunity. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK Sophia wiped herself and trotted over to the glass partition. The clicking of plastic wheels on prison tiles was practically a siren alarm. Every Little stopped what they were doing and ran up to see who’s time had come. No one had been here very long, but some form of social inertia had created the protocol of standing at attention and gawking at the person who was about to be ended. She saw a pair of guards pushing the pink umbrella stroller past her cell roll out of view. One of the monsters threw her a wink and drew her attention to the pink diaper bag dangling from the stroller’s back. The Littles in the cells across from her all looked relieved while they turned their heads to look away. That meant that todays’ victim was on Sophia’s side of the aisle. From a guess, Sophia figured it was the girl in the next cell over. Poor Elizabeton. ‘Elizabeton’ wasn’t the prisoner’s actual name. She’d just overheard snippets of conversation about where the girl had come from before here. Weird to think that a Little from all the way out in Elizabeton was shipped here, but it showed how rare JBRC’s were becoming. It also showed how willing the Amazons were to bend their own rules, regardless of jurisdiction. Commit a big enough crime and it didn’t matter what false enlightenment the local Amazons pretended to subscribe to. They’d just ship you somewhere else to kill you softly. Total silence reigned in the hall. Sophia didn’t know if Elizabeton had been gagged yet, or her relative proximity to her neighbor’s padded cell just muted sounds of struggle. Sophia hoped that when it was her turn, she’d maintain the dignity not to struggle. “Oho!” One of the guards crowed. “That was a bad last decision, Little girl! You’re not getting changed until after.” That answered one question, at least. “Hope you feel proud of yourself sitting in your poopy diaper!” There was the meanest edge in one of the guard’s voices. Sophia instantly hated it. “Dumb baby trying to stall. Too bad you can’t stall happiness!” A few minutes and an eternity later, the stroller started rolling back out past Sophia, back to the way it came, back to the door at the end of the hallway. LIttles went in through that door and didn’t come out. That stroller might as well have been a ferry on the River Sticks. Sophia saw her neighbor prisoner. Blonde. Pretty even though her hair shaved incredibly short. Naked save for the extra thick diaper she’d just been taped into. Every Little that had been wheeled through that back door into nowhere had been given only that sliver of modesty with the only variation being that boys were wheeled away in blue strollers and girls were confined to pink. Why? Sophia swallowed, knowing she’d find out soon. Elizabeton was the only remaining Little who in this purgatory from when Sophia had been tossed in her cell. The passing guard, the one who had commented on Elizabeton messing her diaper, threw another wink towards Sophia and mouthed something. Sophia couldn’t read lips but she thought it was “See you tomorrow…” “Hey, Elizabeton!” Sophia called out. The stroller stopped and backed up. “Someone wants to say bye-bye, I think,” the guard taunted. “Okie dokie.” The Little girl turned her head and made eye contact with Sophia. Her mouth was gagged with a pacifier, its bulb likely filling her mouth to the point where her jaw hurt. But her eyes were fierce and tearless, like Sophia’s. “You messed to try and stall?” The condemned woman nodded her head. No point in denying it. “I get it. No shame. It was worth a shot.” “Oh, it wasn’t on purpose,” the lead guard taunted. “Pooping their pants is just what Littles do!” Sophia’s nose wrinkled and her lip curled in disgust. As soon as the Little woman-someone considered a legitimate threat and had been treated as such-had been diapered, the giants put their motherly masks back on. “Fuck you,” Sophia spat. “Go fuck yourself,” the guard spat back. “It’s what you do at night anyways.” To her prisoner and her coworker the guard loudly proclaimed, “Alright, Little girl. Let’s go meet your new life. Time to be happy!” Then she mouthed some same words as before Sophia. “See you tomorrow.” CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK The mechanical sounds of a heavy door opening and closing could be heard and the sound of stroller wheels were no more. But the Littles didn’t return to their own individual confinements. There was one more step to this horror show. A wave of static crackled in the air as ancient speakers switched on. From out of them came the dirge that played every time one of their number was lost. It started with a tick-tock sound, the seconds on a very loud clock calling out to them to remind them what they were all going to lose sooner or later. Then synthetic sounding keyboard joined in to the rhythm, like tiny tear shaped raindrops. “Does anybody know what time it is?” A child’s voice asked. A boy? A girl? It was hard to tell, but it definitely was a real child. “Yes!” came another child’s response. Little? Tweener? Amazon? It was really hard to tell. Enough could be done with technology to pitch voices up and down regardless of the size of the vocal chords. Technically, they could have been two adult Littles whose voices were modified enough to pass for children. “It’s the time to be happy!” Then came the chorus. “The time to be happy is now! And the place to be happy is here! And the way to be happy is to make someone happy And we’ll have a Little Heaven right here!” Every damn time… Sophia had abandoned all hope since she entered this place, but she had one final one: That that creepy ass song wouldn’t be the last one she ever heard before her mind was erased forever. ******************************************************************************************************** Sophia didn’t sleep that night. Guilty or not, who would be able to? When your remaining time as yourself could be measured in hours instead of days, sleep seemed like a waste of time. She’d literally sleep when she was brain dead. That didn’t stop her from quietly masturbating in the dark. There was nothing else that seemed better to do than to plunge her fingers into herself and pretend they belonged to somebody else. In the back of her mind, Sophia knew that she must still be being watched. Night vision cameras and the like monitoring her to make sure she didn’t do anything drastic. That just made her pinch her nipples a tad harder and tease herself, giving her captors a show. Let them be disgusted. Let them. Let… CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-CLICK The slight grinding sound of a clear glass partition sliding away made Sophia jump. Too late, she opened her eyes and shook herself to full consciousness. She hadn’t been dreaming or in anything restful enough to label “sleep”, but she had lost track of time. The guard from yesterday was nearly on top of her, bending over with something uncomfortably close to the Little’s face. “Wakey wakey, baby Sophie! It’s time to be haaaaaa-!” Sophia reached out with her hands and lurched forward. The Amazon had been to strong to bat her hand away but as luck and surprise would have it, the stiffness of her arm made it exceedingly easy to grab onto and pull herself up. Sophia bent her head sideways and bit down on the giant woman’s thumb just past the pacifier gag. Sophia clenched her eyes and jaw and didn’t stop until her tongue tasted the coppery flavor of blood. “MOTHER FU-!” The guard yanked her thumb out of Sophia’s mouth hard enough to make the Little’s teeth rattle. An open palmed slap to the face knocked her back prone while a second pair of Amazon hands charged in and squeezed the joints of Sophia’s jaw, forcing it painfully open. “You’re supposed to feed the bite,” the other guard lectured. “I know! I fuckin’ know, goddamn it!” A rubber bulb penetrated Sophia’s mouth and inflated it. The guard didn’t release her grip until Sophia was incapable of spitting the pacifier out. Her jaw was practically unhinged, but from here on out, no sounds would be able to come out of her saved muffled groans and any attempt to spit the offending object out would just look like the gentle suckling of an infant on their favorite binky. “Do you even read the case files?”, the second guard lectured her companion. “This Little bit into her original Mommy’s jugular in the woman’s sleep!” “Yeah, yeah,” the first guard cradled her bitten and bleeding hand. “I know, I know.” Did she? Biting a giant’s jugular was so far off from what Sophia had been accused and convicted of that she genuinely wondered what these women thought they knew. Was this a prison or a lobster tank? Sophia ignored the voices and rising indignation inside her. It didn’t matter anyways. She’d be dead soon. Dead was dead. The pretense why didn’t matter, did it? She stopped struggling and let herself be diapered this one last time. The first guard dug around in the pink diaper bag. The entirety of Sophia’s bite only regarded two band-aids. “Hope you liked the taste of that, baby Sophie,” she chirped venomously. “That’s gonna be the last solid food you ever have! Nothing but baby food and Momma’s milkies from here on out!” Sophia didn’t bother to reply. No sense in giving the bitch a sense of satisfaction. She went full ragdoll as the massive diaper- the last one she would ever realize she was wearing- was slipped under her and fastened on one agonizing tape at a time. This one was the thickest diaper yet. Fuck the restraints, she wouldn’t be able to walk in this with how far her legs were spread apart. She didn’t look around at the other cells to see if the other Littles were watching her. Her eyes were straight forward while she was strapped into the stroller. It was weird how comfortable it all was; how quickly she got re-used to having a thick and crinkly pillow encasing backside. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. It was game over for Sophia. It was time. Time to be happy. The massive door opened and groaned like it had every other day; a massive beast roaring for its dinner, ready to consume. The stroller she was in click-click-clicked all the way in- a lamb to the slaughter- until she passed the threshold and the monstrous gates slammed shut behind. How much longer would it take? Seconds? Minutes? Would she hear that awful song one last time, or would it not follow her back into the cradle grave? These were the questions she asked in the darkness of that tunnel, squinting as she was glided out into the blinding light. There was no bright color in the JBRC wing she’d been staying at. Everything had been grays, blacks, and muted dingy greens with just enough fluorescent lighting to cast unpleasant shadows along the walls. The jumpsuit that she hadn’t put on once had looked like something a janitor or sewage worker might wear. It was refreshing, to be honest. Still, it was no surprise that as soon as she could see, Sophia’s senses were assaulted with every color of the rainbow that she’d been deprived of. Floor tiles were bright yellows, reds, and oranges. Walls were sponged over in pinks and blues in sloppy and disorganized patterns. Hot lights like miniature suns dangled overhead. It was like an army of kindergarteners swallowed a bunch of finger paints and then vomited all over an execution chamber. That was as good an explanation as anything in this fucked up world. Sitting somberly in a row of fog hat gray folding chairs, a gathering of strange Amazons sat staring at Sophia in her stroller. Their eyes narrowed and faces struggled contorting into full on scowls. Who the fuck were these people? “Come on baby girl,” the guard with the band-aid on her hand sneered. “Let’s get you set up.” The stroller was wheeled backwards so that Sophia was forced to gaze at the row of dour looking old Amazons until the wheels snapped into place. The stroller was being added to part of a larger apparatus; one that necessitated even more restraints on her arms and limbs. Sophie’s head was held firmly in place while a strap pulled over her forehead. “I can’t wait to look into your eyes,” the guard whispered, as a small metal cylinder was lowered over the Little’s skull. Sophia looked up with her eyes. She couldn’t get a full view, obviously, but from where she was placed, she imagined it kind of looked like a hair dryer that women sat under when they were getting their hair done, only Little sized. Now if only she had a magazine, Sophia thought darkly. The shield of the fake pacifier and her own taut lips concealed the smile. A male, balding Amazon wearing a guard’s uniform stepped in front of Sophia’s view. The man was so fat that he practically blotted out the strange lookie loos there to witness her final moments of coherent thought. “Sophie Lockhart,” he said. “For the crime of Adoptive Fratricide in the first degree, you have been sentenced to undergo a Full Cerebral Reset.” Lockheart? Fratricide? She could forgive the infantilizing of her first name, but who the fuck was Sophie Lockheart? And Fratricide? Hadn’t the guards been talking about her biting out a Mommy’s jugular? Fratricide meant killing one’s father though… Something clicked inside of Sophia! They literally had the wrong Little! She was about to have her brainstem shorted out, and they thought she was someone else entirely! The people serving as witnesses to the execution were an entirely different clan of giants than the ones who had witnessed her sham of a trial, too! They were about to watch her lights get snuffed out and didn’t even realize that she wasn’t who they said she was and she had no way to inform them of their blunder! This really was a lobster tank! Not only that, but just out of sight, Sophia could hear that damn song being played. “The time to be happy is now! And the place to be happy is here! And the way to be happy is to make someone happy And we’ll have a Little Heaven right here!” There was something deeply, darkly, nihilistically funny about all of this that the Little woman started cackling into her pacifier. To the assembled witnesses, it came out as nothing more than the meager and weak groaning of a pathetic baby wanting her milk. “Now.” Sophia’s world erupted in static and bright lights. No more sound. No more vision. She convulsed uncontrollably writhing in the stroller seat and restraints. She couldn’t hear but she could feel body exhaling in screams. No pain, however. She was as far beyond pain as she was beyond control. Any moment, now. Her diaper started warming up as her bladder and bowels confused and released, pushing a mudslide into the seat of her pants. Her jaw convulsed and she unsuccessfully and involuntarily tried to bite through the thick rubber bulb of her gag. Any moment, now… Her chest hurt and her lungs burned, unable to breathe, even while her muscles racked themselves in their restraints, screaming for oxygen. Any moment… Foamy spittle dribbled out her lips and started running out the corners of her mouth, snaking down her chin. Any…! AIR! Sophia started breathing again, her exhales coming out as low grumbling moans. Sophia’s eyes fluttered open and she kept moaning. Her eyes darted around, taking in the sights. She hadn’t moved from her spot in the executioner’s stroller, but the chairs and the witnesses had been removed. The wet and sticky mass in her diaper was still there and had started to cool. Time had definitely passed. But why was Sophia still here? Why was she still thinking of herself as Sophia? Why was she still thinking?! Her eyes kept looking around, probing randomly; a final body part that had yet to stop seizing up. Sophia tried to get them to focus, to slam her lids shut, but her body wouldn’t listen to her. She tried to stop moaning into the gag, but her throat wouldn’t obey her, either. “There we are!” An evil, sinister face popped up in front of Sophia’s eyes. “Where’s the baby?” A blindfold made of the giant’s palm forced Sophia’s eyes closed. Sophia’s body laid still on autopilot. “There she is!” Like a doll, Sophie’s eyes opened on their own. This time, they stayed still. “You in there, baby girl? You in there?” Her eyes seemed to pierce right into Sophia’s, peering deep into her soul Yeeeeeah,” she grinned. “You’re in there.” The remaining fog started to lift from Sophia’s mind. She was still there! She was still herself! But she couldn’t move a muscle. They’d paralyzed her! Trapped her in her own body. Her heartbeat didn’t even speed up. “Run the checklist,” a voice on the outside of Sophia’s periphery ordered. She couldn’t even direct her eyes towards the sound. The guard unbuckled Sophia one strap at a time. “Roger that,” she called. Sophia willed her body to reach out and slap her captor, but her limbs wouldn’t listen. The smallest, weakest glimmer of hope sparked up in her when her right arm came loose, but the naked limb reached out and probed pointlessly and uselessly as if pulled along by aimless invisible strings. Her head lulled uselessly from side to side once it was free and only stilled itself when she was picked up and laid on the cold hard floor. She wouldn’t really need a crib to keep her contained anymore. Sophia couldn’t even roll over. The Little’s inhaling nostrils picked up the rising stench of stale ammonia and cooling feces. The contents of her diaper shifted around and sagged away from her, making her skin start to crawl as the mess half-peeled itself off of her backside. Yet as far as her face was concerned, the Little couldn’t tell the difference between clean and dirty. She wanted to throw up, but her body was incapable of listening to her commands. The moaning, groaning, huffing stopped when the pacifier was deflated and removed. Her body started breathing through its mouth, too, which made the surrounding stench more bearable. There was no time for relief, however. The guard took one pointy finger and started to tickle at the right corner of Sophia’s mouth. “Coohie coochie coo!” Like an automaton, Sophie’s head turned towards the source of the tickling, her mouth opened and her lips puckered like a donkey braying for a carrot. The tickling on her right stopped and switched over to her left. “Coochie coochie coo!” With the same involuntary drive, Sophie’s head changed course towards the teasing tickling feeling just barely on her cheek. Then she did it again. And again. And again. It was a finger now. It would be an Amazon’s nipple later. “Rooting reflex checks out!” The guard said. “Checking suck reflex!” Sophia felt her head turn again, only this time the bait was switched instead of snatched away from her. Her lips touched her own fingers as her hand was nudged into her own mouth. The instant the roof of her mouth felt a stray finger she started suckling uncontrollably. There was no sense of joy or fulfillment; no soothing wave filled her. No itch was being scratched. Her body just continued to suck on the loose digit without cessation. It was like a reflex hammer was tapping her knee cap again and again and again, only the spot was at the top of her mouth. The guard sat back and watched Sophia helplessly chew her fingers. “In a few months you should be limber enough to where you’ll be able to munch on your toes,” she mockingly cooed down at Sophia. “Suck reflex is active!” Sophia was left there on the floor, alone, and sucking on her finger. She saw the shiny black sides of the Amazon’s shoes step away from her and then heard only unintelligible speech garbled by distance. She was unattended, but not alone. “BOOGA BOOGA BOOGA!” Sophia’s fingers shot out of her mouth. Her arms and legs splayed out and spasmed in every direction each pulled by a different invisible horse trying to quarter her. Just as quickly, all four of her limbs retracted and pulled in close to her helpless body, futilely and inefficiently curling into a ball of flesh. “WAAAAAAH!” That was the first time Sophia had heard her voice today, and she had no more control of it than anything else. She was screaming, but it was as involuntary as anything else. “Moro reflex is a go!” Next the Little found her head turned to its left side. Without thinking about it, her left arm shot out, her legs went slack and her right arm bent up. Seen from above, she might look as if she were pantomiming a fencing match. Her head was turned to the right, and her arms alternated. “Tonic neck reflex! Check!” “WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” The shortest growl burbled up in the Amazon’s throat. “Tickle-tickle-tickle!” Finger tips dug into Sophia’s ribs. “Hawwwww!” The scream mutated into a pained giggle. “There’s my happy girl!” Inwardly, Sophia was cursing the woman out. Outwardly, her breathing came out in stifled, laughing gasps. The space between her legs warmed up a little more as her bladder continued to dribble out into her diaper. “Let’s check out your fingers and toesies!” The Amazon’s digits started brushing the soles of Sophia’s feet, causing her toes to fan out uncontrollably. Her toes! She couldn’t even control her damn toes! A gigantic finger traveled up to the Little’s palm and Sophia felt herself lightly take hold of it, tiny fingers gently wrapping around the one big one. “That’s a very good grasp reflex, baby Sophie! Your new Mommy and Daddy are gonna think that’s so cute! Like a puppy shaking hands!” Puppies needed a command. Sophia didn’t have that much control going for her. In a much deeper and more professional sounding voice, the guard called back. “Grasp reflex detected!” Looking down at Sophia, she switched to her faux motherese and cooed, “Almost done, sweetie pie!” The world went upright for the first time in a short forever. Sophia was being held up, supported at her waist. Just like with her grasping palms, the second the soles of her feet touched the floor, her legs started to weakly move up and down in alternating fashion. “Look baby girl! Somebody’s dancing! Yes she is!” Lacking the coordination to hold her own head up, Sophia witnessed the phenomenon as if she were outside her own body. If only she were on the outside. She was very much in herself; a prisoner aware of every feeling and sensation, but unable to act on her own desires. She hadn’t expected to exist as herself today; now she was trapped; buried alive in a Sophia shaped tomb. The world went topsy turvy again with her being lifted all the way off the floor and cradled in the Amazon’s arms. The speed of which made her arms flail out and retract again. This was her body’s default fear or surprise reaction it seemed. “WAAAAAAAAH!” “REFLEXES CHECK OUT!” the Amazon bellowed over Sophia’s involuntary wailing. “TRANSPORTING TO VIEWING!” “WAAAAAAAAAH!” A bottle full of milk brushed Sophia’s cheek and her head got to turning so that her mouth could get to sucking. It only took a second for her mouth to work into a steady rhythm of sucking down the warm creamy liquid. “Poor Sophie,” the Amazon guard mocked. “Did you think you’d get to stop thinking you were a big girl after this? Watch some special cartoons? Listen to a special song? Go to a daycare?” Eyes that Sophia couldn’t control honed in on the source of the sound, no matter how badly Sophie wanted them to go away. “That wouldn’t be justice, would it? Those nice things are for good Little boys and girls who just pretended that they were grown-ups for so long that they forgot who they really were!” From underneath her, Sophia felt the guard squeeze the back of her diaper, pressing the muck and mess back up against her skin. Her body didn’t stir, content with the milk and the nice sounding tones, even if the words were getting nastier and nastier. They were moving too, with ceiling lights whizzing by her. “You were bad,” the guard hissed. “You wanted to be an adult so much that you made the worst possible choices.” She leaned in and kissed Sophia on the forehead. Sophia’s body didn’t react. “Choices are like toys. They can be taken away.” Another kiss drove home the point. “So now all of those nasty choices have gone bye bye, and in their place are all those nice, simple, baby behaviors that you thought you’d outgrown.” They stopped just long enough for the guard to open a door. “Now they’re back and they’re never going away.” A door opened and a fresh gust of air smacked Sophia in the face. The ceiling overhead went from the painted over industrial gray to bright and soft lights. Past the bottle of milk, Sophie was able to decipher clean white walls and passing figures wearing scrubs. The name of the prison made a terrible kind of sense now. a Juvenile Behavior Retention Center. Everything that wasn’t a reflex, a behavior that could be predicted and controlled had been removed from her. The only thing that had been ‘retained’ were the basic instincts that newborns came with right out of the womb. A doorway crossed her vision as another threshold was crossed. A light padded surface rose up to greet her nearly paralyzed form. The Little had already been on enough changing tables to know where she was laying. Cool air seeped in between her legs while the giantess quietly changed her diaper, wiping her between her legs and cheeks. It would have been refreshing if it weren’t so violating. More distressing, neither the cream, powder, or fresh diaper being slipped beneath her stopped her body from finishing the bottle. She’d gotten a grip on it that refused to let go. The sucking continued and devolved into sickening slurps. Her body wasn’t stopping just because she was out of milk. The reflex to suck overrode anything else. “You’re a very lucky Little girl,” the guard said. She took the bottle out of Sophia’s mouth and lifted her. “Those diapers can hold a lot. You wouldn’t need a change for another eight whole hours, at least.” Up and then back down again. Sophia was picked up and put back down, her body lightly encased on a semi-flat surface that still cupped her body.. It bobbed at first with her added weight; a strange amalgamation between a hammock and pogo-stick. “But without a clean diaper on,” the Amazon smirked down at her, “it’d be hard to get your exact weight.” A scale! She was on a massive baby scale, getting weighed and measured like she was every bit the newborn her body had been debilitated down to. “It’s very sensitive,” the Amazon said, looking down at the scale. “With even a tiny change in weight, it shifts.” The slightest tickling around Sophia’s belly button made her body start to giggle. “Just like that!” A tiny trickle leaked out into the formerly fresh diaper. Sophia might not have noticed it without the prompting. The Little could still feel her face contort as an all too familiar pressure built up in her tummy from the milk, and only whines came out of the girl’s mouth. “Poor girl’s getting gassy!” her tormentor said, picking the living ragdoll up and draping her over her shoulder. Sophia felt every pat and rub acutely with her increased helplessness. With every burp and belch, the guard chuckled to herself.” “You were a very bad bad girl.” “Urp.” “Don’t worry though,” the Amazon said. “Your new Mommy and Daddy are going to love you very much.” “Urp.” “They’ll give you all the love that you don’t deserve even though it won’t matter a bit.” “Urrrk.” “You’ll get lots of milkies and naps and changes and burpies and cuddles.” “Urp. Eck.” “Maybe a nice playmat where you can accidentally bat around shiny things. Some tummy time just to change things up.” Never before had Sophia hated someone more than she hated the woman talking to her. She really wished she’d committed half of those crimes attributed to her. “URRRRRRK.” The room spun around with more walking. Sophia’s eyes started to droop, her body exhausted and content despite how much screaming her brain was doing. The briefest blink revealed that they weren’t alone. The room they were in had nearly a dozen plastic cots- blue for boys and pink for girls. Each was already filled with a Little, swaddled in blankets, breathing peacefully with their eyes closed no matter how their brains might be begging to be put out of their misery. “You’re really lucky, baby girl,” the Amazon taunted. “Viewing day is tomorrow. Some of these other babies have had to wait for their Mommies and Daddies to come pick them out. But not you!” Pink plastic walls rose up around Sophia. She was laid down on something thick and fleecy. Her weak and uncoordinated body was pinned, and swaddled in a few rapid steps. A matching cap was pulled down over her head. Her eyes closed all the way, her body feeling completely relaxed and comfortable. Another rubber bulb brushed against her lips and her body suckled on it reflexively. Her captors would never need a gag again. Her lips and tongue worked the pacifier ceaselessly and her mind tried to do anything it could to pass out. The guard wouldn’t let her. She just kept taunting her. “If you're lucky, you might make it a full year before you go bye bye from all the boredom. I’ve heard some Littles who get Reset can make it close to five! But don’t worry. You’ll be happy…” Gently, that same damn song was piped in over the hospital air conditioning. “The time to be happy is now! And the place to be happy is here! And the way to be happy is to make someone happy And we’ll have a Little Heaven right here!” Heaven, Sophia thought. Heaven for who? *********************************************************************************************** Sophia woke to the sound of babies crying all around her. It was a good few minutes before she realized she was one of the cries that had so offended their ears. Her body thrashed impotently in the swaddle. The noise had activated her body’s fear response, and she was now screaming while her limbs did everything they could to bundle up against her torso. So it hadn’t been a dream…. Her diaper was wet. She’d continued to dribble throughout the night. Possibly more than wet. She couldn’t tell because she couldn’t move and she couldn’t focus outside of her own body to smell enough. Someone had pooped their diaper in the middle of the night, that part was certain. Diaper changes and bottles were not forthcoming, however. Nothing that even passed for relief was in store for her. More ceiling tiles passed overhead and a semi-familiar click-click-click-clicking sound registered over the din. The cots were being rolled up to a glass window. Peering down at Sophia was a small horde of eager, smiling Amazon faces pressed up against the glass. Fingers tapped on the window. Hands waved, vying for attention. Insane toothy grins on one side of the wall juxtaposed ironically with the open mouthed wails on the other. Now Sophia really was a lobster. These latest intruders were the hungry diners there to decide who they would get the pleasure of devouring. They either couldn’t hear the Littles’ cries or they just didn’t care. Flashes of white caught Sophia’s attention. A nurse, practically a waitress followed hands pointing down and over to Sophia’s caught. Just a moment later, Sophia was picked up and cradled again. Her body calmed at the added warmth and support. Her mouth was forced closed with the addition of a fresh bottle. “Baby gets some brekkie!” the nurse chirped. Sophia’s eyes were drawn again to happy sounding voice. Thank goodness it wasn’t the guard from yesterday. Two new faces came into view. “Mr and Mrs. Olafson? Congratulations. It’s a girl!” “Henry!” A middle aged Amazon woman gushed, snatching Sophia out of the other Amazon’s arms, blanket, bottle and all. “Look at her! She’s perfect!” Then to the nurse she said. “We’ll take her!” This is how it ended. Auctioned off to the first or highest bidder. Nothing more than a pet. A porcelain baby doll to care for an neglect as a couple of fifty somethings saw fit. . A knot formed right in her stomach. Unfortunate that it had nothing to do with the torment she felt. The added milk had woken up something else inside the Little’s body. “She sure is, Harriet!” the giant man agreed with his wife. “Thank you very much.” The nurse gushed back. “Oh don’t thank me. I’m just the stork. It’s my favorite part of the job! Y’all are the real heroes, taking this Little one in!” “What’s her name?” Sophia’s new Mommy asked. “Whatever you want it to be.” “How about Abigail-May? After both of our mothers,” Sophia’s new Daddy suggested. The couple of tyrants looked down at her. “What do you think? The pressure in Sophia’s stomach was increasing and bubbling up rapidly, a balloon that was growing and growing inside her, ready to burst out of her stomach like a horror movie alien. The pressure built and built and built until she involuntarily added more mess to her diaper. “Awww! She’s smiling, honey!” the giant man said. “That means she likes it!” Really it just meant that she had gas. Her body lacked the control and wherewithal for social smiling. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a very happy baby!” The nurse praised them. And poor Sophia lacked any capability to disagree. That was all there was to it. Sophia stayed there in the stranger’s arms, sucking on her bottle while bundled up in a blanket; her wet and messy diaper squishing with every shift. Her husband was handed a clipboard where he signed some forms and then she was whisked away. She never thought she’d see the sun again or feel the fresh air on her face. In a way she wasn’t. Sophia wasn’t the blob in the stranger’s arms. She wasn’t being strapped in the backward facing car seat and having the bottle replaced with a pacifier. Nor was she adding a steady trickle of urine into an already wet diaper. Her body was doing all of that, but not her. Sophia hadn’t done anything since biting that bitch’s hand. She never thought she’d see the outside of prison; not as herself. How wrong she’d been. Instead of erasing her, the Amazons had just shrunken the prison into a perfectly Sophia sized casing while the real Sophia could only cry in despair from behind a wall of preprogrammed responses and instincts. “Look Henry,” her new Mommy said. “In her file they included a CD of children’s songs for her nursery.” “Heh. Well let’s make it official,” the older man behind the wheel said. “Put it in.” “The time to be happy is now! And the place to be happy is here! And the way to be happy is to make someone happy And we’ll have a Little Heaven right here!” Sophia was not now nor ever would be free. But given enough time, one to five years according to that guard, she might be happy.

Warning I promised with my last story that I would post a short warning before I posted the first chapter. As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established Diaper Dimension. These include, but are not limited to: Diapers Using Diapers for Their Intended Purpose Non-consensual Mental Regression through Various Means (Including Possible Drugs, Hypnosis, and or Surgery) Graphic Imagery Associated With Any of These Warnings Humiliation Female Domination Babying of adults Violence (pertaining to weapons, assault, or harm of others) For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy this story.

I am so excited. I finally got it in. Hypnosis files to get any Little to absolutely enjoy their messy diapers. By the time I'm done with them, the Littles will get very excited in their diapers the moment they make big messes in them. I read the warning on the cheap Hypnosis files, something about not being close to it or whatever. Fine I glossed over it. Besides, I'm an Amazon and we're immune to such things. Though my friend and coworker Mary says it's not actually true and some older Hypnosis videos and such can effect Amazon, but the newer stuff can't because it's geared towards their biology now that we've advanced that far. I honestly don't believe it and if it was true it's not like anyone would sell it anymore. I finally make it to work at Sunnys Little Daycare. Sadly it's a bit more progressive then I prefer, but I couldn't get a job at the local etiquette center because I don't have enough experience yet. But I'll have it in a couple of years then I'll get a job there teaching Littles and the odd Betweener their place. I can't wait. I greet my coworkers and get started with my shift. We got everyone checked in and fed breakfast. As soon as we're finished cleaning up from breakfast, Mary tells all the Littles it's time for diaper checks and changes. I scan the room of Littles, looking for my first victim. I see him, he's in line for a diaper change anyway. He's squatting right now making a big present for me to change. Mary is changing them as fast as she can, but every Little needs changed right after breakfast. I go over and pick up the Little, I think his name is Billy, but I never cared to learn their names. "Hello baby, let Nanny Vic get that poopy butt all cleaned up okay?" I say in a sweet voice. He obviously can't say anything, his paci is locked in his mouth, but I can see the fear in his eyes when he hears my voice. I can feel him trembling in my arms as I bounce him on my arm, squishing his poopy diaper. I absolutely love this feeling. It gets me a bit wet if I'm honest. I get him up on the second changing table. "Don't worry baby, I'm going to be nice, this time." I whisper in his hear. I pull out my phone and start the Hypnosis file, it down low, but he can see and hear it. I can hear it too, but no one else can. As he watched the video I started rubbing the front of his diaper. He quickly got hard. I can see he's sucked into the video, but he's moaning and grinding against my hand. I do this without the Hypnosis from time to time, it's not illegal or technically against the rules, but Mary did tell me after she saw me doing it that the higher ups and even some staff frown upon it. The parents apparently don't approve either. I don't care. It's the fastest way to get Littles to purposely mess their diapers and not need any laxatives. It doesn't take long and he cums in his dirty diaper. I smile, no one that's mature would ever cum in a diaper, especially such a messy diaper. I finally stop the Hypnosis file and get him changed. He toddles off all happy and acting so babyishly. It's the one reason I chose Hypnosis, it makes the act more of a baby for at least an hour or two after making stickies in their diaper. It'll take two or three more times watching the video to make it permanent. I can't wait to see them trying to hump things right after making a stinky. Mary and I finally finished changing everyone and I was able to use my Hypnosis video on 3 more Littles and 1 Betweener, the onlyBetweenerwe have, a total of 2 boys and 3 girls. One girl being the Betweener. I pick on her the most because she's the biggest and normally their size are sent to high school forever. But this one is being punished and now she'll never get out of diapers.

I have been putting together a guide based on the Diaper Dimension for a while now. Some of it is a little rough and it is by no means complete. As I have been reading the DD stories for far longer than I have been writing this guide, there are many stories that I have missed in putting in here. This will be an on-going process to add these stories and further authors who have contributed to this wonderful setting. When I started writing stories, I realized I wanted to inhabit the worlds others had already created, as they felt real and complex. While I will acknowledge that many of the stories could live in similar but still different dimensions, I noticed several similarities between many of the stories. As such, I have created this guide for anyone to use freely to create their own stories if they ever want to use part of the pre-existing lore. Due to the on-going creation of the DD, I have labeled this story as 'complete,' but as my vanilla job would like to say, it is a 'living' document. For those who don't know, this just means that the document will be submitted as a final form, but may often be updated as new information comes to light. Additionally, while it behooves me to post a link here rather than the actual information, the nature of this guide and the fact that I will still be updating it going forward, means posting it here in its entirety would be a bit of a pain. I may change my mind later, but I hope the link will work for now. https://www.wattpad.com/story/339576633-diaper-dimension-reference-guide

I'm looking for someone to play the dominant Amazon CEO, preferably female. Message me if you're interested. I wake up frantically when I realize I've overslept. I quickly start making coffee and getting dressed for my job as an assistant to a wealthy and powerful CEO. I haven't been working there long, just shy of 5 months. I hear they go through a lot of assistants and after 5 months I see why. The CEO is hard to work for. I grab my coffee and run out the door. I don't live far so I walk to work since I don't have transportation. As I rush down the sidewalk I can see other Amazons either rushing to work or just going out for a walk with their forever babies otherwise known as Littles. I do spot one Betweener walking alongside an Amazon woman, I can see a sagging diaper poking out beneath her dress. Poor thing looks mortified. I never understood the reasoning of adopting Littles or Betweeners. I never had that drive to do it. I don't even remember if my boss has a Little or not. I finally get in the office and at my desk right before the boss quickly walks passed my desk to their office and signaling me to follow. After my morning meeting with them about what's going on for the day and about making schedules with a few clients, one being a very big client, I get to work on it among my other duties.

Introduction and PSA Despite my best efforts, I have experienced the dreaded ‘Con Drop.’ While at a convention a few weeks ago, I thought of this story and couldn’t shake it, so now, in the midst of ‘Con Drop,’ I went ahead and plowed through this story in an effort to revel in the wonderful time I had there, write a new story that I couldn’t get out of my head, and provide a relief from the post-event blues I know many of us are experiencing who participated. On a side note, this particular convention was absolutely amazing, and I just wanted to say thank you to all the presenters, hosts, and even participants of the event. It was truly magical, and I will be eagerly awaiting next year. I won’t mention it by name or acknowledge any comments regarding it, but if you know, you know. “If you’re not having fun, you’re doing it wrong. If you don’t have consent, move along.” I really love this saying that we had there, and I wish it was one of the elements that could be brought into the real world more from the event. I know some already live it, but I know others don’t. All that being said, I know this community is a bit of a tight secret, so despite some activities where I met other authors or content creators, I will not be mentioning them by name or the events that I took part in, as I do not have their consent to write about them. I was in awe of meeting them and had a lot of fun, but I can respect blanket anonymity to all their identities. To further protect identities and locations, I will be using a name generator and generalities about the hotel, respectfully. Any references to specific people from the convention itself are merely coincidental or are only meant in a general sense (littles, caregivers, puppies, etc.). The real event will only serve to set the stage and framework for some of the events in this story. Beyond that, the main character is not a consenting character with the overall plot. Just because they took part in a fantasy scenario, does not mean they consent to have this element take over their life and I know that full well. Additionally, the main character will not follow or will just simply forget about some of the general rules in place. The actual convention is pretty safe, and this scenario is only meant to be a fantasy of what could happen if certain elements were in play or others and some basic unsaid rules were not followed. Now, please enjoy, “The CONvention: A Diaper Dimension Story.”

Alright, another story in the diaper dimension. One of the main goals is for my writing to be 'fun', and when I quickly wrote a few chapters of Recessive last week and this week, I was very happy with the results. Most of my stories involve "borrowing" ideas from other authors, this one is no different. Since this one is pretty blatant, I want to give credit where it’s due. The concept of Maturosis and a recessive Betweener gene belongs to Personalias, which I hope he doesn't mind me using for this story. I also give a little nod to his story "Unfair". This was written in a hurry, so there might be some mistakes in here somewhere. I hope to get a chapter out per week, but we'll see how that turns out. As always, thanks for reading. *All characters are over 18* *Now with Maturosis spelled correctly* ------------------------ Recessive 1 “Come on, mom! I do not have Maturosis.” As a Tweener, Kaleb was fighting for his life, this was exactly the kind of thing that could put him in diapers. He hated saying what he shouldn’t even have to say; but this wasn’t the first time he had to stand up for his adulthood, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last. A letter from the school counselor started this latest brouhaha. In a few typed paragraphs, the Amazon counselor claimed that his behavior wasn’t up to snuff. It mentioned that Kaleb had been forgetful with his assignments, that he was apathetic, appeared bored, slept in class, and it brought notice to the nightmare that was his most recent report card. The school wanted to see some ‘changes’. In fact, the head counselor herself thought that he needed some cognitive behavioral testing; which would never happen to his Amazon stepsister. Now, Kaleb was doing battle against his family in the living room. The small space between the pair of couches, flat screen TV, and his father's oversized fluffy comfy chair became 'No man's land'. Kaleb sat in the Big recliner, dwarfed by the navy blue padding, doing his best to defend his honor against his stepmother and stepsister. Debbie was on her feet, the letter from the school still in her Amazon hands, and there was a stern tightness in her voice. “Your father works seven days a week to put food on the table, and you can’t even be asked to pay attention in class. What’s your problem, Kaleb?” “Maybe he has Maturosis?” added his sweet stepsister. Layla sat on the couch opposite Kaleb and his chair, and she had her Little Parenting class textbook opened and cradled in her loving Amazon arms. This Maturosis train of thought was all her fault, and she knew it and loved it. “I said that I do not have Maturosis!” Kaleb repeated himself, louder and slower this time. “How would you know?” Layla said to him and her mother. “Are you taking a Little Parenting class like I am? Oh, I forgot, it’s a class only for Amazons, which means you're too little to attend. So sowwie, Kay-Kay.” How he hated that pet name his stepsister gave him - ‘Kay-Kay’. “It’s not Kaleb’s fault,” added his stepmom with just a smidge of derision. “It’s in his genes, you can’t fault him for who he is - that’s Unfair.” Yes. His genes. From the day he was born, it was always about his inferior genetic make up. It turns out that his father’s family had a recessive ‘Betweener’ gene that had revealed itself with his birth. Thus, Kaleb was shorter, dumber, and more childish compared to everyone else in life. His mere existence seemed to have shamed his family, and Kaleb believed it was why his mom and dad split up in the first place. His real Amazon mom wanted to baby him, and his Big dad pretended he didn’t exist, working long hours and always out of town on business. Then his dad got remarried to Debbie, and that’s when these kinds of battles began. Kaleb knew these conflicts by heart, always having to prove that he was just as good as his Amazon counterparts. He had expected, and experienced, this kind of talk from other Amazons, but to have it in his house was something else entirely. Still, it shouldn’t have surprised him that it had come down to this; his stepsister being who she was, the same with his stepmom - but it was Layla who was spearheading this latest attack. There was trouble between him and his stepsister from the get-go: Layla being an almost perfect Amazon, Kaleb being a shorter than average Betweener, and both seniors in high school but on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum and the honor roll. It didn’t help matters that Layla was hyper intelligent and had a carnivorous brain that never slept and always schemed. His stepsister was sleek and stacked, blonde and pretty, and the head cheerleader of the varsity squad. Meanwhile, Kaleb made so-so grades, had dark shaggy hair, wore too many black t-shirts, played video games and kept to himself, which was now suddenly a crime according to Layla’s textbook. “My book says that sufferers of Maturosis exhibit the following behaviors: antisocial tendencies such as keeping to themselves, too much talking, not enough talking, too much reading, a disinterest in books, television watching, unable to finish a show… the same with being single, unemployed and without any high school diploma.” “Put a big check next to that one.” Debbie, his stepmom, loomed over his step-sis like a brooding gargoyle wearing mascara. “He hides in that room playing those childish games - almost like a Little.” “Yeah,” echoed Layla, “almost like a Little.” “Come on, Debbie!” Kaleb cringed from the insinuation. “Kaleb, for the last time, call me ‘mom’,” his stepmom warned him with a snap and a raised finger. “I’ve earned the right after dealing with you all summer, just wait until your father hears of this letter.” After putting him in his place, Debbie leaned over the couch to get a better look at the book. Then she casted a second sharp glance at Kaleb as if he was interrupting something important - and not fighting for his life. His stepmother had a pretty face for an overbearing Amazon; that is, when she wasn’t scowling at or threatening him. Debbie had a youthful appearance, a brightness in her complexion, and she kept in good shape, so he couldn't blame his dad for marrying her. It was just that his blonde, decently attractive stepmother had a singular goal in mind when it came to Kaleb; one that more aligned with that of his real mom. “Disrespect towards authority is another sign of Maturosis,” continued Layla. “It says here that the inability to appropriately recognize mother figures and properly interact with older Amazons reveals an innate desire for punishment. Very Maturosis, indeed.” A wild feeling soaked the room, a moist sponge full of potential energy, just waiting to be squeezed. Layla was getting giddy from this excitement, happily kicking her feet in the air. Her cheerful face matched her red and white cheerleading uniform fresh from the pep rally after school. One of her life goals was getting Kaleb put in diapers, which wasn’t some mind reading thing or a product of more insinuation, she had told him to his face… many times. “I do respect you Deb.. I mean, mom…” Kaleb pleaded his case to his oversized audience with fists clenched. “It’s just that this textbook is just painting Tweeners with a broad brush, it doesn’t mean that I’m sick with anything, you’ve got to believe me.” “We do believe you,” said Debbie, “it’s the only reason you’re not in diapers, yet.” “Not in diapers, yet?” questioned Kaleb, his face felt tight and cheek muscles twitched under his eyes. “What have I done to be put in diapers? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Kaleb felt like he got his point across, but as soon as he settled himself back into the oversized chair, Layla flipped back a few pages in that damn book of hers. Then she pointed to a page that was probably dutifully highlighted from beginning to end. “Actually, we read about this issue a few chapters ago. Littles are experts at hiding their potty accidents, they could be having accidents daily without being caught, and no one would be the wiser. It’s more common than we think.” Debbie smiled and patted her daughter on the shoulder. “I love this new school of yours,” said his stepmom. “I’d have to admit that I was against sending you to a mixed school, but I’ll say that I stand corrected.” The two women were loving this special moment they shared. Layla beamed up at her mother, and her mom smiled down fondly — all Amazon through and through. They both looked the same and talked the same, with Layla being a younger, more ‘cheerleading’ kind of clone. As if this Amazonian apple didn’t fall far from the tree, if it even fell at all. “Thanks mom! I had my doubts as well, but they’re letting us work with the Littles at the school. And guess what! I changed my first Little diaper today!” “Oh! Congratulations Layla!” Debbie was hopping in place as she hugged her daughter. “You’re going to have to tell me everything? What was it like?” “What was it like?” Layla giggled, this day was going as perfectly for her as if she dreamed it. “It was stinky, that’s what it was like.” Stepmom crossed her arms and pushed her lips together like she was about to kiss a frog. “Uh-oh. Did some little Little think themselves too big for protection?” “Yeah…” Layla nodded excitedly, “and she had the audacity to want to be a cheerleader as well. I mean, it’s not safe. That’s what we all tried to tell her, she was too Little to be one of us.” “You’re right,” said Debbie. “It isn’t safe to have a Little wandering around a Big school with no one to help her. I’m so proud of you for protecting that Little, and she proved herself to be a pants-pooper as well. You probably caught her before things got out of control, she’s going to be thankful when she comes to terms with her condition.” “I doubt that…” mumbled Kaleb. His stepmom spun to face him. “What did you say?” As hard as this all was, Kaleb tried to explain himself to an insane giantess without triggering her overbearing, often malicious, mothering instinct. “You’ve ruined her life, now she’s in diapers, and she’s stuck in them!” “We didn’t ruin anything,” countered Layla, who said every word to her mother’s approval. “The cheerleaders helped her deal with her condition. So what are we supposed to do with a Little with a potty problem? Just let Callie go messy in her panties?” “No! Nope! No way I believe that!” decried Kaleb. “This Callie girl probably didn’t have potty problems until the cheerleaders made her poop herself.” Layla disagreed with a sharp shake of her head, sending her tight ponytail swaying from side to side. His stepsister flipped forward a couple of pages, grabbed her mom's attention, and pointed at a passage in the book without saying a word. After following her daughter’s finger, Debbie clutched the gaudy pearls around her neck and slowly nodded. Oh, man. This wasn’t good at all. Kaleb mockingly wiggled his head like his stepsister. “What does it say in your stupid book?” “It says that those suffering from Maturosis have an ‘affinity’ towards other victims. Top doctors say that this over-indulgent empathy is yet another symptom. If a Little, or Betweener, exhibits anger, frustration, or undue sympathy towards a Little that clearly needs diapers, it could mean that those big emotions are really meaning something else.” “Like what?” he asked without thinking first. “If a Little… or in this case - a Betweener - displays these kinds of emotions it may be masking…” Layla held up for a moment, to let the tension build, biting her pink lips and looking between her mom and her book. “I may be masking what?” questioned Kaleb. “Jealousy.” Kaleb squinted at his step sister in disbelief, as if she said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, and it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard - but it was also one of the most dangerous. “Me? Wanted to be treated like a baby? That’s absurd… it’s ridiculous… there’s no proof, only silly um… insinuation! Give me a fair shake to prove it to you. I deserve the benefit of the doubt.” “You’re absolutely right, Kay-Kay.” “I am?” Kaleb stared blankly at his Big stepsister. “You do deserve the benefit of the doubt,” continued Layla. “Our teacher says that just because a non-Amazon exhibits one or all behaviors, doesn’t mean they have Maturosis. This isn’t some kind of catch all condition. Sometimes, but not often, there are a few misdiagnoses that go undiscovered.” Kaleb glared down at his sneakers, letting his heart sink to new depths. Imagine being misdiagnosed with something as sinister as Maturosis. That would be like serving a life sentence in a plastic prison, when you were innocent every single day. “That’s why they made the Cushioning test,” Layla explained to the room. “It’s a psychological remedy that can bring out the worst symptoms of Maturosis without the headache of constant surveillance.” “I’ve never heard of this Cushioning test,” Debbie grouched as she folded her arms. “It must be something new, they make everything so difficult these days. Back in my day, if we saw a baby we put a diaper on her, it was that simple. And now we have tests.” “Oh, mom. Don’t be so old fashioned. We live in an age of science and kindness, not like how it used to be, that was just being cruel to Littles. Now we help them, not hurt or condemn them.” “I guess you’re right,” sighed Debbie. "What does it say about bad grades, or any other signs in the behavior of a Betweener?" They’re sick, established Kaleb, in his head of course. They were absolutely bonkers, completely bat-crap crazy, and he needed to get out of that room. He rose from the chair to go back to his bedroom, if he was careful, they wouldn’t say anything. “Where are you going, Kay-Kay?” Layla flashed her violent blue eyes at him. “We’re not done yet.” “Oh, I thought you guys were finished,” he stuttered and took a step back. “Listen, I’ve got some homework to do, so… if you don’t mind…” Layla smiled. “I’ve got some homework, too.” “And…?” Kaleb noticed that she was staring at him hungrily. “And I need the help of my little bro!” Layla clapped her hands together enthusiastically, which was alarming to say the least; but Kaleb said nothing, dead behind the eyes, keenly noticing his smiling stepmom and aware of his squealing stepsister. There was no getting out of this, he had better chances of flapping his arms and flying out the window. "Does this homework have anything to do with those bags you brought home?" asked Debbie, with a gleam in the eye. “Maybe.." offered Layla. "What do you say, Kay-Kay? Wanna be my helper?” “Help you do what?” Kaleb shrugged his shoulders. “I’m going to need a few more details before I say anything.” “Well, today we got a special assignment from Little Parenting class. We’ve got to perform a practice Cushioning test over the weekend. Most of my friends are planning to work with Littles, they were going as a group to a daycare, but I thought it would be easier if Kaleb helped me. Mom, I’m so swamped at school, especially with the big dance coming up. I figured if the school wants him to do some 'testing', and I need to perform some 'testing', I can be the one to help Kaleb." "That's so nice of you to think of helping your stepbrother. You are growing into a fine young lady - and you are very busy.” His stepmom then turned his way. “You should help out your sister, Kaleb. It may ‘help’ you in the long run." "Help me do what?" he asked his stepmom. Debbie reviewed the letter a third and a fourth time before explaining. "The only places that offer these kinds of cognitive tests are at Little Procurement Centers, and they're not going to give you a fair shake if you fail them. Trust your stepmom on this one." He trusted her on this one, 100%. That still didn't mean that he had to do whatever Layla wanted, and his stepsister never did anything that was good for him without it later turning bad for him. At least she was predictable in that manner. “Wait a sec.." Kaleb turned to the two women. "You’re actually going to make me do this baby test?” “The school says that you need it,” answered Debbie with a shrug. “Why are you believing the stupid school counselor instead of me?” Kaleb continued to fight for his rights. “You know how stupid that is? This is all so… so… stupid!” Layla smirked. “Yeah, it is stupid isn’t it.” Kaleb was surprised to find that his stepsister agreed with him a second time, twice in one day like a broken clock. “Um.. it’s just that I’m not so sure I want to do that ‘Cushering’ test. Those things are designed to make Littles fail and turn them into babies. No way I’m doing that, I’m not THAT stupid.” “You’re just afraid that you won’t pass it,” said Layla matter of factly. “No, I’m not afraid of the test,” insisted Kaleb. “I just told you that the test is rigged against Littles…” “But you’re not a Little,” replied Layla. “It won’t be rigged against you. It’s just homework, Kay-Kay.” The way she was so right all the time was infuriating. He could feel the change in the room as his internal workings were beginning to budge, as he tried plant his feet into the carpet before he lost more ground. “It’s still a big ‘No!’ for me. I gain nothing from being your Guinea pig, not an ‘oinking’ thing.” “Guinea pigs don’t ‘oink’!” Layla groaned to her mother. “My stepbrother is a complete moron.” His stepmom butted in, "I don't think you have much of a choice, Kaleb." "I do have a choice, I'm not going to do any of these tests, no matter how many letters the school sends. And another thing, you can kiss my sweet not-diapered butt." Kaleb turned to show his jean clad bottom to the two Amazon women, adding insult to insult, and driving his point home. They were not making him do any kind of test. But that's where he was wrong. Before Kaleb knew what was happening, Debbie jumped into the fray, literally. For a woman in her middle age, she certainly closed the gap between easy chair and couch in a hurry. His stepmom pulled him to his feet by the forearm, in a tight grip he’d never break. Still, he tried. After a couple of quick escape attempts, Kaleb accepted his fate, letting his arm hang loosely from his stepmom’s clenched fist, while glaring as hard as he could at the much larger woman. When he had stopped squirming, Debbie pulled him closer to her in a menacing way, she was a giant spider and he was in her web. The size differential had to be driven home, and she spiked it deep. His stepmom addressed Layla with a biting, callous tone. “What does it say in your book about not helping their sisters?” “Nothing good,” replied Layla, as she tried to stifle another smile. “That’s what I thought,” Debbie said to Layla. “Now, as for you,” his stepmom turned her attention to him. “You need a nice slice of humble pie, so I’m going to check your pants. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you have another chance at making the right choice, or there could be a spanking in order. Then I'll take you to the Little Center, and you can do all of your testing with a red bottom." Kaleb gulped. That spike was driven straight into his heart. “Turn around and face your sister, Kaleb.” He didn’t have to be told twice, shuffling his feet towards Layla. His stepmom kept a firm hand at his back as he turned away from her, and her hold on his arm slackened to give him another chance to do it right. Like the constant battles for adulthood, this was not his first pants check; not from Debbie, not from others, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be his last. However, he wasn’t too concerned. Kaleb kept a clean ship, with a well-squabbed poop deck. On the couch, Layla coyly played with a pen held between her lips. The stupid textbook was still opened on her lap, but her piercing eyes were all on Kaleb and his ‘pants check’. This day was going as swimmingly as possible for Layla, and she wasn't afraid to show her stepbrother how much she enjoyed his petulant child treatment. Debbie reached around the front of his pants to undo the button of his jeans, then with the other hand she yanked them down mid thigh. Kaleb fought the urge to fall to the carpet as his pants fell, but his anxiety-locked knees held him upright. Behind him, his stepmom adjusted the waistband of his gray boxer briefs, before sliding a pair of crooked fingers into the fabric and pulling them back to take a peek at his cheeks. "All clean," Debbie announced to the surprise of no one. The whole song and dance was less about potty training and more about humility. His winning strategy was to try to maintain some bit of dignity on the other side. That was his goal, at least. Kaleb would have to exude some level of over-confidence if he planned on playing this off as just another battle; there was a war to win. "Duh! I told you that I don't have Maturosis. You guys are pretty off the mark, don’t you think? Same with the school and their letter, they're wrong and you both know it.” Kaleb hastily pulled his pants to his hips, and redid the button, and things were almost back to normal. "If we're wrong, then you should do the test," observed Layla. "I still don't know why you won't help me with my homework." "Fine. Fine. I'll do that test, but you two will have to give up something in return." "Oh!” Debbie exclaimed. “I love it when they try to make deals.” "Mom, let's hear him out." Layla slid her book aside before crossing her legs. Boy, her skirt was short. Kaleb could almost see a hint of red bloomers in the provided shadows. "I need him to willing and able to help me, I can't just force him over my knee to make him behave. This is science, remember? There's no room for error." "Alright, then." Debbie let him go, and Kaleb rubbed at the spot where her claws dug into him. "What do you want from us?" Kaleb held his breath before speaking. He made sure that his arm still worked; it did, same with his rapidly beating heart and his burgeoning sense of finality. If there was going to be a showdown, and he would be the one to set the terms. This was the best way to silence his family and take care of the funny business from that Amazon school counselor. "If I pass the test, then you two have to leave me alone. No more bullying. No more pants checking. No more Kay-Kay. No more… whatever else you guys do, like saying that I'd look cute dressed like a Little." Both women guffawed with a capital 'G'. "Alright, alright." Layla put aside her smile to give him the room. "Is that all? What if you 'fail'? It is a possibility." "If he fails, he gets treated like a Little with Maturosis," interrupted Debbie, altogether quiet and harsh. "That is what the test is all about, isn’t it? I’ve had my own questions about his adulthood that I wouldn’t mind having answered.” His stepmom was right about the test, wrong about his adulthood. The Cushioning test was for Littles who needed diapers. So what? Kaleb was a Betweener who didn't need diapers. Even if he did shoddily on Layla's Cushioning test, there was still a good chance that he'd pass the stupid thing, and then he'd be left alone for the rest of his days. No more bothering him about video games, or girlfriends, or his height, or anything and everything that made his life a constant battle. If this was going to end one way or another, it might as well be here and now, and at his own decision making. Kaleb stared down the two women. "Deal." The two Amazons could barely let the ink dry before sealing him to his fate, as Layla spoke for the both of them. "Deal... Now let's get started."

I'm actively working on getting more chapters going for my work that's been on hiatus, 'Lights, Camera, ...What?!?' and decided to search for a tool today before I started working on something from scratch like I usually do to compare characters. I came across a site that might be helpful for other writers to come up with some great visualizations of what heights need to be to compare to our plans/goals. https://multmetric.com/ Let's you put in Man/Woman/Child for the types of characters, and then generate a decent comparison image. I wish they offered a few more options for 'characters,' but it does the trick almost as well as the figures I normally figure out proportions with in Photoshop... (And a lot less effort!) It'll even let you do a rectangle too, so if you want to see where an Amazonian Bathtub compares with a character, you can do so! This isn't limited to Diaper Dimension works though, nothing more jarring to me than someone trying to claim that 4'6" adult can get away with being the same height as a 3 year old... (Given your average 3 year old is 38", and the 54" is a ten year old's average height) Anyway, hope maybe this helps someone! Happy writing!

Things Work Out Jem finished the stitching on his latest creation: A blue bunny stuffie that was going to a good home. He’d add on button eyes and few other finishing touches so that it looked nice and clean that afternoon and then ship it off. He took a moment to take a picture at the almost completed work, and then sent a message to his client to inform them of the progress. Standard operating procedure. Jem was careful to keep any part of his body or clothes out of frame; along with any environmental clues that would give away that the person making Mr. Bun Bun was a Little. Also standard operating procedure. Like most average Littles, Jem’s life tended towards the quiet, cautious, and cloistered. He had what he felt was a solid network of friends, mostly other Littles and a token Tweener, but they never went anywhere; opting to just visit each other’s homes. There were larger Little communities where people of his stature knew how to get the most out of their size using society’s scraps; but they were almost always on the move and skittish to boot, like the old stories of circus workers and carnies. Spending one’s whole life looking over their shoulder, afraid of giants, was no way to live, or so Jem reasoned. If Adoption was the death of self that so many Littles seemed to think it was, then Jem would do what most people did and just live his life with that knowledge and not think about it. With black medium length hair, hazel eyes, and a rather unremarkable build, Jem might or might not have been adopted. A giant Mommy might not take any interest in him or she might see a blank slate upon which to paint; a real coinflip. What tilted the odds towards Adoption were the light freckles on his cheeks that had never fully faded from childhood. A mad giant could certainly see that and jump to conclusions. The Little craftsman caught his reflection in an empty glass of water and shrugged at the thought. He was only twenty. Unless he was extremely cautious, he wouldn’t make it to thirty outside of a crib. But why worry? Like most Littles, he was ambitious, happy, and had found a niche to excel in. To be fair, how ‘most Littles’ felt depended on one’s search radius. There were neighborhoods, towns, cities, counties, states, regions, and countries where the majority of people Jem’s size had had their potty privileges permanently revoked and the only dates they went on were playdates arranged by their massive adoptive parents. Jem saw no reason to dwell too much on it. He’d seen more than enough people his age and older being pushed around in strollers or getting their butts wiped for them in the back of somebody’s minivan. Most of them seemed to like it; like it or had at least learned to live with it. ‘Jeremy Meadows’s Joyful Mementos’ was something of a mouthful, but the Artsy account was paying Jem’s rent and putting groceries in his refrigerator. Jem had unusually dexterous fingers, even for a Little, and good spatial awareness and fine motor control. He’d applied those skills and created an at home custom baby clothes and stuffed animal business. Jeremy Meadows was his real name; very professional sounding. His mother lovingly called him Jem, however, and the name had grown with him. He was Jeremy Meadows according to the banks and online customers. Jem was for his friends and his own inner monologue. Standing up and stretching Jem went to get his shoes. “Laundry time.” A few times a week, Jem would run some of his creations through the apartment complex’s coin operated washers and dryers (on low of course) just to give them that comfortable worn in feeling before shipping them off to his customers. It was a nice touch that many reviews noted and praised him for. More than a few of his creations and alterations were going to babied Littles, Jem knew. He had one customer who had ordered eight different onesies or rompers in as many months, and the measurements always stayed the same. Real children grew faster than that, and the shipping address wasn’t listed as a daycare. Jem just did another mental shrug. At least he knew whatever Little was wearing his outfits would be comfortable. Sometimes, he tried his creations on for himself in the privacy of his own room to see how they moved and felt in different positions. No diaper of course, but he’d experimented with layering every pair of briefs on top of one another or using a pillow and a belt. Not quite the same he was sure, but he figured it gave him the right gait. Close enough to simulate a dry diaper. Sometimes Amazon Mommies and Daddies would send him pictures of their ‘babies’ playing with or cuddling the plushies he’d sewn. They all seemed genuinely happy, cuddling the stuffie or mid giggle. Jem made sure not to put any mind control tracks into the stuffies; not even those bells that threw off a Little’s inner ear while stimulating their pleasure response. He tested each bell ordered from a craft supply site himself, just in case. His conscience was clear. Every now and then, a satisfied customer would send a picture of their Little one cuddling the stuffie, and their Mommy or Daddy would be cuddling them in their laps; a regular nesting doll effect of laps. Those bothered Jem for some reason and yet he lingered on those photos longer than he felt was proper before deletion. Jem got his shoes on and grabbed his keys, a mesh laundry bag, and a laundry card before heading out of his apartment. It was an Amazon sized space, with Amazon sized doors that needed to be retrofitted to accommodate Littles. It was nothing that a pull rope on the inside and a step ladder bolted into the cement on the outside didn’t fix. He whistled tunelessly and boldly walked to the public laundry room, sounding everything like the chipper birds in the trees above. His whistling seemed to get louder in the laundry room. All the machines were at rest and so there was only concrete, tile, and metal to dull the high pitched air moving out of his lips. Other Littles would have avoided making unnecessary noises, fearful that it might attract attention. Others might put such boldness as a strategic risk to blend in. Jem had no such forethought or motivations. He just didn’t like the sound of silence. The room was divided into two halves. Washers on one side, driers on the other. Both were side loaders, so there was no having to climb and dive in to fetch anything. Jem didn’t know how he would have managed otherwise. A button push unlatched the lowest dryer near the back. “Timed it perfect,” Jem complimented himself upon feeling the blast of hot hair from the comparatively massive porthole. There were few things as simple and satisfying as nice hot laundry fresh from the dryer. Opening his white mesh laundry bag he started putting the latest batch in, being careful to check each shirt, onesie, romper, and sundress, to make sure that it wasn’t damp. His friends in real life and the ones he kept in contact with on the net wouldn’t approve of the idea of him handling Little sized baby clothes in public. Too great a risk. To Jem’s mind, there was no risk. If an Amazon wanted him as their baby boy they’d find or invent a reason. Paranoid precautions that interfered with life were pointless. In lieu of coins, every appliance had a card swipe that only accepted a special kind of card given to tenants. Jem kept a hefty balance on his because he always made sure that his products were completely dry before ironing, folding, and packaging for shipment. Hot and damp was not a great combination. Trouble was the heat could sometimes disguise the dampness, and a romper that needed another ten to twenty minutes would end up a wrinkled mess. It was always a gamble with these metal behemoths. Jem took one such romper, a tie-dye alteration that when it was done would say “Mommy’s Little Crinkle Butt” up to his face and towards an open window, hoping that the sunlight would illuminate any patches of moisture. “Oh! Hey there buddy!” An unfamiliar voice rang out. “What are you doing here? Where’s your Mommy?” Time slowed down for Jem. He’d read about this sort of thing on MistuhGwiffin.web. An Amazon would see a Little in a potentially compromising position- a rattle picked up off the ground, a headband or other clothing accessory that was a bit too ‘immature’, just really bad gas-and things would escalate from there if the Little wasn’t quick. Jem calmly lowered the romper away from his face and started neatly folding it. His pulse barely picked up speed as he gently placed it in the sack and then looked way up at the intruding Amazon like he had barely registered the deep booming masculine voice. “Hm?” As soon as he made eye contact with the newcomer, Jem felt his pulse start to pick up. All Amazons are giant compared to their Little counterparts: Bigger, stronger, faster, the works. The man in front of Jem with his short brown hair and day old stubble, looked like an Amazon among Amazons. It’s not that he was any more massive than your average amazon- not a whale among elephants- but he was decidedly more physically fit than the average pram pusher. With that physique and definition, Jem could tell that this stranger pushed more than strollers. Probably did more cardio than just slow paced leisurely strolls through a park or pushing a shopping cart aisle after aisle at the supermarket. An errant, uninvited thought jumped into Jem’s mind: A shame The Amazon took Jem in: Jem’s jeans weren’t the most professional looking, but the black collared polo shirt should have done the trick. He was certainly more ‘mature’ looking than Mr-Basketball-Shorts-No-Shirt-So-You-Could-See-His-Abs-Beneath-The-Laundry-Basket. The bigger man puckered his lips a moment and then looked ashamed. “Oh. My bad. Sorry dude. I thought. It’s just I saw the…and you’re…” He placed the basket full of dirty clothes down and scratched the back of his head. “You know what. My bad. Sorry. Carry on and ignore me. I’ll just mind my own business.” He looked older to Jem, but not by much; late twenties, maaaaaaaybe early thirties. It was the subtle difference of a few years that only young adults really noticed, regardless of physical size. High school was filled with baby teenagers. Anybody over thirty was old. Anybody older than twenty five was somehow mature but accessible. Or perhaps that was just how Jem’s brain worked. At the moment, this mature yet accessible looking Amazon had all the awkward mannerisms of an adorable puppy who’d just been caught tearing at a slipper. Good, Jem thought. Sensible. An Amazon that admits when he made a mistake. “It’s cool.” Jem heard himself say. “Honest mistake.” “Awesome. Appreciate it.” And so the two occupied the otherwise desolate space for a few more uncomfortable minutes. It should have been over more quickly, Jem had figured. It didn’t take very long to dump in dirty clothes, throw in a laundry pod and then bounce. But things took longer, because the stranger was also picking up a load of laundry from the drier. Like Jem, he seemed determined to fold every single article of clothing, underwear included. “Can I ask you a question?” the giant said, breaking the silence. Jem looked up from a pair of shortalls that he’d stitched a smiley sun onto the front and an adorably frowny raincloud to the seat. His work was holding up well. Were he being honest with himself, Jem would admit that he was only paying such close attention because of how nervous he was. “Yes sir?”, he responded “Are those baby clothes?” The man asked. “Yes sir,” Jem said kindly enough. “They are.” Another twitch of self-consciousness flashed over the man’s gorgeous blue eyes. “Are they…your baby clothes?” “They’re mine in that I made them and I’m selling them. But they’re not for me.” “Ooooh!” The man said, a wave of relief and realization falling right over him. “That makes so much sense! I just…I saw…and I thought…” He searched for the right phrase but finally gave up. ”Do you make them yourself from scratch or by hand or machine?” Jem’s cheeks turned rosey and he felt like stuttering, but the words came out of him like flowing water. “A bit of everything, really. Sometimes I make them from a pattern. Other times I’ll take a plain outfit and modify it with decorations. You can turn a t-shirt into a onesie if you buy them bigger than usual and then alter it a bit.” The giant man nodded his understanding, those dreamy blue eyes never blinking. “Okay. Yeah. I get it. So you do custom orders.” The Little allowed himself a faint smirk. “Pretty much. It costs more, but lots of parents”- Jem was careful not to say Mommies and Daddies- “want their baby to stand out, so it’s worth it to them to pay the extra cost. I also do stuffies.” “Yeah,” the man said. “Okay. Makes sense. I’d pay extra for fancy baby clothes. Especially if my baby wasn’t gonna to grow up.” A chill danced its way up Jem’s back. “Beg pardon?” The Amazon looked shocked and embarrassed all over again. “No wait. Not like…I didn’t mean.” He looked down at himself as if for the first time. “Shit!” he hissed. “I mean ‘crud’!” He reached into the dryer and dug out a t-shirt. “You’re here taking care of business, and I’m practically in my skivvies. Sorry!” He pulled the maroon colored t-shirt over him, hiding his physique, but making him seem dressed more appropriately if still casually. In faded but still legible black letters were the words. “Carmen’s Gym” “Let me start over. Hi, my name’s Nate,” he said. He leaned over and reached out a massive hand towards Jem. Boldly and seemingly unafraid, Jem reciprocated and allowed his tiny hands to be engulfed. “Jeremy Meadows, of ‘Jeremy Meadows Joyful Memories’.” Jem resisted the urge to fish around in his pocket for a business card, but only because he knew he didn’t have any on him. “Nice to meet you Mr. Meadows,” Nate said and released his hand. Astonishment buzzed behind Jem’s eyes. He’d never known one of the big people to deliberately call a Little ‘Mr.” or “Miss’ without prompting. Nate looked down at his t–shirt. “Oh uh…Nathan Quinn. Carmen’s Gym.” He slid his hand across his pecs, underlining the words. “I’m a personal trainer. Workout coach and stuff.” This was all so terribly, wonderfully awkward that Jem didn’t know how to feel about it in the moment. His brain and mouth just decided to start going on autopilot. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Quinn” “Oh, you don’t have to call me that, Little dude. Nate’s fine.” His smile became easier, more relaxed. “It’s what my friends call me.” “Friends call me Jem.” Oh yikes! Why did he say that? Jem instantly wanted to regret that. “Cool. Jem.” Nate said, like he was trying the word out in his head. The thin smile on his lips might have meant he liked it. “So yeah. Total transparency, I don’t know many Littles. Most of my friends don’t have kids and haven’t decided to Adopt, so if I say something messed up, I promise it’s not on purpose and I’m trying to learn.” Like implying the only way an Amazon might know a Little is if one was Adopted? That kind of messed up? Jem didn’t speak the thought out loud, however. As it turns out, he didn’t need to. The Amazon caught himself and smacked himself on the forehead. “Fuck, I did it again!” He slapped himself on the forehead. “I mean, ‘man’. Man, I did it again! Da…darn it!” Jem had stopped folding his clothes and was just now slowly placing them in the bag on top of the folded ones. He’d definitely have to iron them all later. He could only focus on so much at one time and this intriguing Cerbernard puppy given Amazon form had his full attention. “You can swear around me, you know,” Jem said. “It’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Or said.” “Hm?” Nate said. “Oh, no. That. Sorry. The cursing thing isn’t you. It’s just a bad habit of mine I’m trying to break. My boss doesn’t like swearing and I’m trying to break myself of the habit.” That might have been true, Jem thought, but it had the flavor of a lie of omission. This guy was definitely monitoring his words more closely because of Jem’s stature. “Why?” Jem probed. Nate shrugged and flopped his hands by his side. “Oh you know. Gym culture is kinda toxic. We get better business and better customers if we keep ourselves polite and professional and stuff. That and my boss also owns the daycare next…” And the hits just kept on coming. “Uh…huh.” “Okay,” the charming idiot deflated. “Full disclosure. My parents were pretty conservative growing up. Said all Littles were immature babies that never grew up. I don’t believe that. And I had some gal pal’s back in college who were studying about Maturesis or whatever it’s called…like that some Littles are adults and then just one day snap into kids or whatever. I don’t know about that, either.” He quickly tacked on. “Unless you say that’s a thing, I mean. I’ll listen if it is.” “It’s not.” Jem shook his head. “Okay. Cool. Just like. I got some bad habits all around that I’m trying to break.” He held out his palm. “Not that it’s your job to help me or anything. I’m explaining, not excusing.” This himbo just kept on digging, and the worst part was Jem wanted him to dig more and he was pretty sure it had nothing to do with wanting to watch the big man squirm. “Sure…” “My point is I’m sorry if I offended you. I know that Littles have some physical difficulties and need help reaching stuff sometimes, or can’t run as fast or lift as much, but that doesn’t make you children.” Those sky blue eyes were practically begging for affirmation. “Yeah. We agree.” Jem nodded. What could he say, he was starting to feel sorry for the big lug. Amazons tended to be crazy and thoughtless, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t also be nice, well meaning people. This Nate was kind of proving that point. “Cool. Sorry. Next time I’ll be better.” Jem didn’t consciously realize he’d cocked an eyebrow. “Next time?” “If we ever see…each other…in the laundry…?” Nate was definitely realizing how stupid he was sounding. “Okaaaaaaaay,” he course corrected. “Let me try it this way. If we see each other again, I’m not gonna make the same mistakes.” There was no talking as each measured the other up. “If you ever want a free workout, come on by to the gym and ask for me. I’m not great at talking, but I’m good at coaching and spotting.” The Little felt his head lightly bobble. “Okay,” Jem said. “Sure. I’ll think about it.” Why did he say that?! Nate’s smile lit up. “Great! Hope to see you.” That was as good a time as any for Jem to seal up the bag and calmly walk out of the laundry room. “Me too.” What?! “See you around, Nate.” “Yeah. You too. Later, Jem. Nice to meet you!” Though his feet were calm, Jem’s mind was racing thirty paces ahead of him. Why had he done that? Why had he told this giant his name? Formal or otherwise? Why had he taken it easy on him when the guy was clearly uncomfortable. Making Amazons uncomfortable was what Littles did, especially when it came to Adoption. Why hadn’t he run or…or…or done literally anything else? What was Jem thinking? In truth, Jem didn’t know what he was thinking. He didn’t have the words for it. Among Amazon parlance, cossetting means a desire to love and protect a smaller person and treat them like they’re a child. On the spectrum of emotions, a cosset is between a schoolyard crush or ‘puppy love’ and the rush of dopey platonic love that some get when they see a baby and quietly feel the need to have a child of their own. Jem didn’t have the words for what he was experiencing, because in the slang of Little culture, there is no equal opposite attraction of a Little to an Amazon. And if there is, the word has never been spread far enough because those Littles don’t live as adults long enough for it to catch on. **************************************************************************************** In a more fair world, a gym next to a daycare, owned by the same person no less, would seem quirky at best. In a world ruled by Amazons it made a great deal of practical and fiscal sense. A quick web search for Carmen’s Gym and C.G. Daycare confirmed what Nate had slipped. The two establishments, one school bus yellow and the other brick dust red, fed into each other. Virtual tours confirmed that they shared a doorway, and the sites for each establishment linked to each other as well. Amazons with captured Littles, Tweeners, and actual babies (which the sites simply referred to as ‘children’) could be checked in at both hourly and daily rates with discounts given to gym members. Giant Gym rats could check in their diapered brats while they ran on a treadmill and pumped iron. Just as likely, they could drop them off for an entire day, go to work, come back tired and promise themselves that ‘next time’ they’d start that exercise routine they promised themselves several months prior. It wasn’t super common, but it wasn’t unheard of. One business more than likely propped up the other and the smart money was on the one that had an upcharge for ‘emergency diapers’ in the event that the parent didn’t supply enough or that the ‘baby’ was ‘new’ enough to only be in their first or second diaper in several decades. “I shouldn’t be doing this,” Jem said to himself crossing the street. His feet carried him through the crosswalk anyways. He regarded the bright yellow daycare. Its windows were reflective, but Jem knew there’d be at least a dozen Littles crinkling around on the floor on the other side. He paced left and caught his reflection in the low reflective glass. The daycare was probably a proper storefront at another time in its history. He looked at his reflection and pictured himself in one of his own custom onesies, a non-inflatable pacifier between his lips. He felt nothing, not even dread. Then he imagined a certain Amazon coming up behind him and giving him two pats- one on the head and one on his (hypothetically) padded bottom- and Jem forgot to breathe for a second. “This is a bad idea…” he whispered. He would never admit it to himself, but if Nate had told Jem that he worked in the daycare section, Jem would have likely found a reason to visit the yellow building over the red. Possibly to protest; possibly to shoot his mouth off until one particular Grown-Up saw no reason not to take away the Little's big kid pants forever. Jem got the luxury of pacing right and going into the faded red building, instead. He couldn’t reach the door handle, but a stroke of luck in the form of an exiting customer saved him the trouble. ’The sound of high powered air conditioning droned on over the rhythmic thumping of big feet thundering down on treadmills and the steady strained grunting of even bigger arms lifting weights. It was a relatively small gym; a single clean floor with enough room for a row of treadmills, several rows of weight machines, and free weights by a mirrored wall so that the dudest of dudebros could properly primp themselves and pretend that everyone was secretly looking at them. Small by Amazonian standards was still mammoth when scaled to a Little. No Nate though… Shit, was it the guy’s day off? He should have called ahead, or at least done more reconnaissance. Figured out which car belonged to the Amazon and checked the parking lot. Something! An oblong shiny black countertop closed off a good chunk wall that the gym shared with the daycare. Bright white lettering marked it as the Service Desk. As good as any place to look, Jem supposed. Feeling strangely timid he walked up to the counter and knocked on wood with a shave-and-a-haircut cadence so that he could bang loudly without seeming forceful. “Hello?” a blonde Amazon woman close to Jem’s age called out from the other side. Her face betrayed confusion until Jem repeated the cadence for her sake. “Oh! Hel-lo!” She chirped, poking her head over the barrier and her voice about an octave higher. “How did you get over…?” she blinked and frowned at his plain white sneakers with actual laces and his jeans that required a belt. “Wait a second. Stay right there.” She disappeared from sight and Jem had to back away to see her retreat through the adjoining door. The sounds of infantile giggling and fussy crying leaked into the echoey chamber just before the door closed. Jem waited. A small eternity that lasted two minutes later, the door opened again, and the sounds of giggles and screams (good or bad?) bled in before being suddenly cut off. This time, the young woman crouched underneath the partition separating the counter from the main floor. “Sorry about that, sir.” She said. “I thought one of our charges had toddled off or something.” She seemed nice enough, but far less self-conscious that she was actively referring to Littles as if they were children. All of the giggles and screams had sounded like post pubescent Littles to Jem’s ears. “The motion sensor we have by the door must be too high.” Jem inhaled and caught a whiff of baby powder coming from off his giant peer. “That’s fine. I came in when someone was just leaving.” He thought it would be polite to give her an out. The woman neither took nor seemed to care about the explanation. “How can we help you, friend? Do you need to use our phone? Is your scooter broken down? Do you need directions somewhere? Are you lost?” Yes. Yes he was lost. He’d made a mistake in coming here and he’d need someone to take him home. Maybe someone who lived in the same apartment complex as him could help. Someone big and strong with dreamy blue eyes. “I’m interested in working out,” Jem lied instead. The young woman frowned. For all intents and purposes she’d just heard a cat bark. “Okay…” she said in a way that signaled that it really wasn’t. “Let me go get someone for you.” On long striding legs, she power walked around the other side of the counter and through another door with an “Office” sign hanging from it. “Nate!” Jem called after her, but his voice fell quiet. It was only the rough approximation of a shout, not even close to the real thing. The door shut and closed him out. “Damn,” he hissed. The LIttle sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. The sweet aroma of baby powder just wouldn’t get out of his nostrils. The lady just trailed it in with her. Which was odd, considering that the gym didn’t reek of sweat. It wasn’t worrying, or even surprising; just telling about where priorities lay. “Jem?” The raven haired Little rose up to his tippy toes in surprise. He forced his arms and the hairs on the back of his neck down before he turned around to face the wonderful voice. “Hey dude,” Nate greeted. “What are you doing here? The Amazon’s hair was neatly brushed. His face was cleanly shaved. He wore a neat maroon polo tucked into khaki pants. In his muscular arms, he carried a clipboard. He didn’t have the relaxed but scruffy look from yesterday. Now he looked so…so...so Grown-Up. Jem sealed his lips to prevent himself from drooling. “Did you decide to take me up on my offer?” Dumbly, Jem nodded. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Uh-huh.” The office door opened up and the woman from before followed out a second Amazon woman. This lady was older, but far from old, mid thirties at most. With her dirty blonde hair tied back in a pony tail and a maroon sweat suit she could have been the first one’s older sister; maybe even her mother, and the air of confident authority that said she was in charge. Nate, as well as the other staff Jem saw walking around the place, looked like a corporatized version of a life coach; a personal assistant but with weights. They clapped and encouraged people to go the extra mile in between cleaning up sweat, but that was it. If Nate worked out here (and he did work out) it certainly wasn’t dressed like this. Carmen, and she had to be Carmen, dressed like she was ready to start sprinting and pumping iron at a moment’s notice. If she made it another fifty years and kept the wardrobe, she might resemble the crusty but loveable trainer in a boxing movie. When she crossed the threshold, Jem thought he caught the slightest sigh of relief from the woman. “Hi there,” Carmen said. “What can I do for you Mister…?” Two Amazons leading with proper titles in as many days. Would unasked for wonders never cease? “Jem,” he stuttered. “I mean Jeremy Meadows.” Awkward handshakes were exchanged. “What can I do for you Mr. Meadows,” she repeated. Shaking and trembling more than he should, Jem thumbed to the gorgeous man behind him. “Nate is my…” he stuttered. “I mean I want him to be my…uh…” What the fuck was he trying to say? Friend? Daddy? Trainer? Yes please?! Jem couldn’t force himself to finish the sentence with anything. The giant of his infatuations filled in the blanks. “We live in the same apartment complex, Miss Carmen.” Nate said. “We got to talking and I offered him a complimentary session.” It was all the truth but not quite the words Jem was craving. Jem looked between the two remaining giants; the original one had taken her place back behind the counter. Nate stood with his clipboard folded in front of his lap. No winks were exchanged or secret signals or intonations. To Jem’s inexplicable disappointment, Nate was talking straight. How did other Littles provoke the ‘correct’ response from Amazons without even trying? The tilted her head forward appraisingly at Jem and placed her hands behind her. “Mr. Meadows, are you aware that my facility does not have any adaptive equipment for Tweeners or Littles?” Jem straightened up like a private at boot camp. “Yes ma’am.” “For safety reasons, you’ll have to have a spotter at all times. You realize that?” “Yes ma’am.” “You realize that if you become a member, you’ll be required to either have another member accompany you or purchase a session with one of our trainers so that they can ensure your safety?” Out of habit, Jem feigned interest. “Do members get a discount?” Carmen cocked her head to the side like a cat who’d seen a mouse do an amusing trick. “Yes. Yes they do.” “That’s acceptable, then.” Jem said. “Do I get to pick the trainer?” “Assuming they’re available that day, yes.”. “Is Nate available?” The owner chuckled dryly through her nose. “Yes. Yes he is.” She walked past Jem and placed her hand on Nate’s shoulder. “Nicely done, Nathan.” At the sound of that, Jem felt a faint feeling of…something…connected to the brief idea that he’d end up in a car seat before the day was out. ********************************************************************************* A few hours later… “Push dude!” Nate ordered. “I can’t!” Jem groaned, every phoneme a strain. “Don’t give me that talk, my guy! You can do it!” “No. I. Can’t.” “Do it for you!” He didn’t want to do it for him. “I don’t wanna do it for me!” Jem was straining so much that even his inner monologue wasn’t being filtered. This could end poorly. “Then do it for me!” Nate said. “Can you do it for me, my guy?!” For Nate? To impress him? He could do anything. Jem took a deep breath and pushed up with every fiber of his being.. “Yes. I. Can!” The giant metal bar that had been crushing Jem’s chest lifted up for the final time. The second his elbows fully extended, Nate bent over and relieved the Little of his burden, putting the massive weight back on the bar. “Nice, dude!” Panting and drenched in his own sweat, Jem sat up from the bench. He would have mopped his forehead with his shirt sleeve, but that was equally sopping. Jem had never sweat so much in his life. For his trial run he’d been given a baby blue jumpsuit with teddy bear ears on the hoodie and extra room in the back for a diaper Jem wasn’t wearing. It had Carmen’s Gym in italic font on the chest, but other than that it was basically footed pajamas from the daycare. “Sorry,” Nate apologized all too sincerely, “It’s the only thing we’ve got in your size. You can still slip these in your sneakers.” Jem had hoped that would be the first step in the right direction. He was terribly mistaken. There weren’t even any Amazon strength snaps anywhere, just a front facing zipper. This getup was very escapable if slightly inconvenient. He looked back at the heavy leaden bar that he’d been balancing and pressing at the same time, resting serenely back on its perch.. “Nice?” Jem panted. “Nice? That’s…just…the bar. I didn’t…even…get any weights on.” “It’s not about where you start, Little man.” The trainer started mopping up the sweaty outline Jem had left behind. “It’s where you end up. A couple months of this and some nutritional supplements and you’ll be able to give a Tweener a run for their money.” A couple of months?! Jem knew he couldn’t take this kind of torture for a couple of months. He didn’t want to beat up a Tweener either. He couldn’t say it out loud just yet, but he knew what he wanted, and it involved being cradled in someone else’s massive arms. He wanted to cry, but the sound that came out was more of a tired bark. Jem wasn’t sure if he could properly shed tears just then. That would have required fluids he didn’t possess at the moment. “Okay, bro,” Nate said, slapping him on the back. “I think that’s enough for one day. Good workout. Do you want to sign up for the full membership? No. No he didn’t. Not at all. Jem wanted nothing more than to crawl home into his bed and die a mummified corpse. “Yeah.” He said. “Sure.” Dragging his feet and feeling like a ragdoll, Jem followed Nate back over to the counter where he was handed a clipboard. Maybe this was part of the gym’s standard operating procedure for Adopting out Littles. Push them to the brink of exhaustion and then have them wake up in a playpen. Imagine his disappointment when he read through the lengthy gym membership contract line by line and found it to be just a lengthy gym membership contract. No maturity clauses. No loopholes. Nothing even close to a double entendre that meant if he couldn’t pay his monthly dues he’d be dragged back into the nursery like the irresponsible Little boy he clearly was… So much for the easy way. He signed his name on the dotted line and handed it back up to Nate. “Welcome to the club,” Nate said. “See you tomorrow?” “Yeah,” Jem sighed. “Sure.” ********************************************************************************* Thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck-thuck. The rhythmic beating sound smacking in Jem’s ears the next day had nothing to do with anything he’d been fantasizing about. They weren’t from him loudly suckling on a pacifier that Nate had shoved between his lips. They weren’t Nate’s wonderfully massive hands patting him on the back in an attempt to burp the Little. In a weird, almost perverse way, Jem was even disappointed that the beat wasn’t the result of a spanking. Spankings held a strange kind of primal terror for Littles, Jem included, but having his bottom smacked by a giant palm, hairbrush, or paddle, would stil mean things were going in the right direction for Jem’s deluded brain. In actuality the muted rhythmic sounds were just the pitter patter of Jem’s feet dashing on a treadmill capable of supporting an Amazon in full sprint. “That’s right!” Nate cheered him on from the side. “Widen that stride. Make your gait as long as possible!” He clapped lightly in time with Jem’s increasingly ragged footsteps. “You’re doing great, sir!” Great is not how Jem would have described how he was feeling just then. Every muscle in his body was screaming at him. As for his gait, last night he’d imagined himself having a slightly more awkward, toddling gait. He’d even gone so far as to re-layer his briefs over each other again and went to sleep. He kept waking up out of some bizarre paranoia that he’d wet the bed, but otherwise it was decently comfortable, if a tad snug for his liking. He shouldn’t be doing this, Jem knew. He should have been holed up in his apartment, finishing another custom stuffie or clothing modification. One customer wanted this yellow ruffled onesie and equally frilly pink dress Frank N. Stined together into one outfit instead of layering them together. This membership was expensive, too. More than Jem could afford long term unless he was working full time to pay for it off. It gave him a chance, however, to be close to his Amazon himbo crush. It’s not that Jem wanted to be a baby again, per se, it’s that he wanted to be Nate’s baby. A strange and conflicted fantasy to be sure, and one he didn’t dare talk or type about over on MistuhGwiffin.web. The people there would not be sympathetic to this impulse. Best case scenario he’d be piled on with accusations of being mindfucked or some Amazon sock puppet account. Yesterday had been weight day, Nate declared. Every weight machine was powerful enough to lift Jem out of the recommended seating position or impossible to move, so Jem had been forced to work with every free weight light enough. Fortunately (fortunately?) Nate knew multiple exercises that could be used with the same spider-web covered dumbbells, left neglected because the usual gym rats skipped right over them for something more challenging. Today was all about cardio. “Get your heart buff and the rest will follow. Gotta get that blood pumping to the muscles so that they can grow!” So they’d done cardio. None of the exercise bikes were small enough so that Jem could reach the pedals, so Nate made do by putting Jem through lots of stretches and poses that tangled the Little’s body up in knots. According to Nate, stretching and poses could be good for cardio, too, because it forced the heart to pump blood to the specific muscles being stretched at any given time, increasing the heart rate. Jem had no idea if that was true or complete bullshit, and the not knowing- the feeling of learning and being guided by someone who knew more than him- gave Jem the best kind of tingles. Nate was still kind of socially awkward and had the vocabulary and speaking mannerisms of someone from a corny beachbum movie but he genuinely seemed to be passionate and know what he was talking about in this field. If only, Jem fantasized, one of these yoga positions involved him being on his back with his legs crossed and up over his head. No amount of stretching in the world could compete with good old fashioned running, though. So that’s how Jem was ending this session. Also agony. Jem was also ending this session in agony. “Come on! Just one more mile, Jem!” Nate cheered. “You can do it, bro!” Stop. Calling me. Bro. Little dude is okay. Jem is great. Baby boy. Is preferred. But not. Bro. Jem wanted to say all of this, but he was too busy panting to vocalize. Even his thoughts were panting, somehow. “PLease D-...Nate!” Jem forced himself to say. “I’m…at my limit.” “No way! You got this!” Nate positioned himself behind Jem, straddling the treadmill so that Jem couldn’t escape. This was not the sort of penned in that the Little boy found himself idly fantasizing about. “Just a little fur-!” Jem’s knees buckled and the conveyor belt rushed up to meet him. He thumped on the treadmill and the two massive steel pillars that most of the customers were able to grab onto for pacing sped away from him. His brain processed the fall and the oncoming impact far faster than his body would have been able to. It would take less than a second for his frame to be ragdolled all over the floor. At least the footed sleeper he’d stuffed himself into would prevent any kind of road rash outside of his face. Nate’s big strong arms snatched him up instantly. Jem didn’t have time to register the rapid blur of upward motion and being held to a certain hunk’s chest. “Whoah! Jem!” Nate yelped. “Are you okay?” Panting and more exhausted than terrified, Jem looked up into those dreamy blue eyes and resisted the urge to suck his thumb. That’d be too obvious. “Yeah,” he said when he found his voice. “Yeah. I am. You saved me. Thanks.” ”I am so sorry!” Nate gushed. “I shouldn’t have pushed you that hard. I should have listened to you. I am sooooo so sorry my guy!” He didn’t let go or put Jem back down. Jem was in Heaven, looking past Nate and seeing the ceiling tiles move. He was being more than held. He was being carried; cradled even. He’d done it. He’d accidentally done it! “No.” Jem said. “It’s fine. I…I think I kinda like it.” The biggest dopiest smile plastered itself on Jem’s mug. Nate grinned like a puppy dug that had just been scritched behind the ears. “Sounds like you got that runner’s high, my dude. Careful. It’s addictive” The Amazon had no idea how right he was about the wrong stimulus. His grin faded into a concerned frown. “Either that or it’s dehydration and heat exhaustion. I think we’re done for the day.” Gently, he propped Jem up on the service counter, keeping his wonderful hands on Jem’s chest and back until he was sure that the Little could sit under his own power. “Done?” Jem whined. “Done? But it feels like we just got started!” “Your limit is your limit, my guy.” Nate lectured. “We can move it and push it over time, but you gotta respect it in the here and now. Listen to your body.” Jem hadn’t heard the phrase ‘listen to your body’ since potty training. “I don’t know how.” Another gentle clap on the back. “You’ll learn.” Would he though? Would he? The acknowledgement of his competence was almost a slap in the face to Jem. “Here. Let me buy you a sports drink. Electrolytes and stuff. Lots of sugar too. You like sweet stuff right?” Jem was on the verge of crazy happy tears. Nate was buying something for him. Something yummy and sweet. “Yeah,” Jem said. “Sure.” Nate started to wander around to a glass doored refrigerator filled with protein shakes, bottled waters, and lemon-lime flavored sports drinks. Despite Amazons’ preference for bitter and spicy flavors being so prevalent as to be sociological if not biological fact, the bottles filled with sugar water were on the fridge’s top shelf far out of Little reach. “Deal.” An idea! “Wait!” Jem called out. Nate turned back around and faced his client. “I want to pick it out myself.” Nate was in the process of formulating a non-condescending variation of ‘but you’re too Little to reach’, and part of Jem just wished that he would. “Please,” Jem said. “I…I kinda need this after what just happened.” The truth, but also a lie of omission. Jem daren’t say why he needed it. Nate considered it for a moment and walked back up to the Little. “Okay. I get it.” Jem hoped but doubted it. “Deal.” He picked Jem up and planted the twenty-year old on his hip like he was twenty months instead and walked him over to the cooler. He slid open the glass door and then stepped back so that he could lift Jem by the waist and thrust him forward. Uppies! He was getting uppies! Uppies from Daddy! Jem’s mind was buzzing. He took his sweet time reaching out and lifting the massive bottle with both hands. The magic was over too soon. Jem was back to resting on the countertop, his feet dangling, but otherwise unsupported. Nate cracked open the bottle with a single twist and gave it back to the physically exhausted Little. “We should start weight training with those,” Nate joked. “Those things are massive on you!” An accurate statement. Jem had to use both hands to sip from the rim of the sports bottle and he’d have to be part anaconda to fit the entire rim in his mouth. “Yeah,” he said between sips. “Maybe we could do some Kung-Pow Kid stuff. Non-conventional training.” “Heh,” Nate chuckled. “Good one. Polish on. Polish off.” The impression was kind of racist, but it was almost impossible to quote that line without putting on a faux Yamatoan accent. Jem let it slide. He was enjoying it. “Real talk. Those might taste good to you, but you’re gonna want to pregame and follow up with good old fashioned water. No calories, and after a certain point the cost benefit of all those vitamins and nutrients stops evening out with the sugar. Unless you’re doing this kind of workout every day, you might as well be sipping on a soda.” If it got him this kind of attention, Jem just might find time to do it more often. But that was a different kind of cost benefit analysis. He realized he was falling in love with the way Nate talked about nutrition and exercise. “Kay.” Nate grimaced slightly. “Speaking of water, I gotta go let some out. Be right back. You keep cooling down and then we’ll review and strategize before you get back in clean clothes.” Nate power walked to the locker room and rest room. Jem’s heart sank a little bit watching the giant man go. Daddies didn’t leave their LIttle boys unattended. Some were so comfortable that they might take their baby boys to the potty with them so as to not be out of their sight. Most any other Little would be dreading the talk of clean clothes foreshadowing a nasty surprise, but Jem was oddly hoping for it, despite knowing that Nate was just referring to clothes Jem walked in with today. The big lug just wouldn’t take the bait. Jem had briefly hoped that saving him and toting him around like a toddler might have awakened something in Nate. All Amazons, men and women, were supposed to be kinda baby crazy, right? It was supposed to be practically an instinct that they never aged out of. That’s why so many Littles ended up treated like kids, right? He swallowed his bizarre desires and nursed on lemon-lime flavored sugar water. A big muscle bound Amazon in his forties strolled up to the counter. He stank of sweat and had a big fuck-off beard. He definitely hit the weights more than Nate, but didn’t seem to be into cardio from the looks of it. A steroid junkie, Jem thought. Much older too. His dark black hair was more dye than natural. From the way he was smiling, Jem imagined he’d be the type of creep that wanted to be a mall Santa so that squirming Littles would be placed on his knee. “Hey, Little guy,” the stranger said, his voice sounding like he smoked and his breath reeking of beef jerky. “Noticed you were having some trouble with the weights the other day, and that you wiped out on the treadmill just now. Those trainers can get expensive real quick. Maybe it’d be better if you found someone to spot you for free. Give you some tips. If you want…” “Back off, Randal” came a stern voice from behind the big man. Carmen, the gym owner, leered up behind him and gave the big Amazon a withering glare. It was a more feminine pink than yesterday’s sweatsuit, but she was still ready to work out (and throwdown?) at a moment’s notice. “Oh,” the massive muscle man said. “I’m sorry Miss Carmen. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just being friendly to the new kid is all.” “New kid?” Carmen said. “Excuse me?” “What? It’s just a figure of speech.” Carmen pointed right at Jem. “That customer belongs to Nathan. Until one of them says otherwise, he’s Nathan’s project. Got it?” The mountain-that-creeped was smart enough to slink away. “Got it.” Carmen paused long enough to give Jem a curt yet approving nod. Jem had the distinct idea that Carmen could see right through him. More depressingly, it seemed that the only person not getting the hints he was throwing out was Nate. Jem knew he’d need to up his game tomorrow. ******************************************************************* “You okay, bud?” Nate asked. “Yeah,” Jem said, glugging back the water. “You’re drinking a lot of water is all.” Nate looked genuinely worried. “Really taking yesterday’s advice to heart, yeah?” Jem finished glugging down the massive water bottle. His second in as many hours. “Yeah.” Nate had no idea how right he was. Jem hadn’t used the bathroom since he’d first gotten up this morning. His bladder was screaming at him in silent agony. This was on purpose. “You know there’s such a thing as too much water, right?” Nate asked. “You’ve been taking a big drink after every exercise today.” Jem exhaled, trying to maintain his composure. “Thanks. I’m trying.” No potty dance or hint. He needed to appear completely unaware of what he was about to do, like the Little baby he needed Nate to see him as. “Can I hit the weights next?” “I just can’t believe you’re not sloshing. Where do you put it all?” Jem bit into his lip and walked over to the mirrored wall with all the free weights. He’d be putting it all in his pants soon. Lacking a diaper, there’d be no hiding it, either. No excuses. The gym was pretty full too. Carmen was working the punching bag and most of the treadmills were occupied. No escaping it. Just getting what he wanted. What he needed. “Okay,” Nate said. “Let’s just start as light as we can. I don’t want to push you so hard that you puke, okay?” Jem stared at his reflection. Showing how weak he was hadn’t worked. Getting saved and carried around didn’t tempt him. This was the last straw; the final gambit. This would be the last time that he wouldn’t have an obviously padded bulge between his legs. Nate leaned over and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Okay, Jem?” Worth it. The warmth and strength Jem felt in his crush’s hand was enough to give him courage. He relaxed his bladder and felt the terrible violating feeling of urine splashing around in his pants and then dripping down his legs. For half a second, Jem worried that it would be too subtle, that the extra thickness of the pajama-like material would hide his purposeful accident. He needn’t have worried. A dark spot formed and spread right where his penis was and traveled down his thighs making a dark blue roadmap all the way into his ankles. The only downside was that the material wicked away just enough pee quickly enough so that it started pooling in his shoes instead of on the floor. He needn’t have worried, however. It was literally impossible for Nate to have missed it. Both sets of eyes widened in shock. Jem’s horrified expression was just a mask however, covering up his excited anticipation. “You’re cramping up!” Nate half-yelled. “Cramp! Cramp!” In another blur, Jem found himself lifted up pressed to Nate’s chest, snugly up against the Daddy of his dreams. Nate started carrying his new Little boy to the locker room. There, he knew, he’d be stripped, wiped, powdered, and diapered by a deliriously baby crazy Nate, and things would progress naturally from there. “Cramp! Cramp!” Jem opened his eyes. “Cramp?” Why was Nate saying Cramp? “Don’t worry Little dude,” Nate’s voice sounded off the locker room. It was almost like how they met. “I’ve got just the thing. Anybody here?!” He called. “Good.” “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Jem cried out in shock, if not pain. Freezing, ice cold water poured over Nate, soaking him from head to toe. “WHAT? AAAAAAAAAH!” “Cramp!” Nate yelled over Jem’s cries. “Just a cramp!” he pried Jem off of him and turned him to face the icy chilled stream. “This’ll get rid of it! No need to call an ambulance! It’s cool” The water switched off and Jem was placed sopping wet onto his feet. From the tip of his hoodie to the toes of his booties, all of the fabric was the same dark sodden dark blue. No trace of his accident remained. “Oh man!” Nate said. “That was close! Uh…I mean, I was worried for a second. I saw your legs spasming so I knew I had to ice you down.” Nate sounded like a bad soap opera actor. “Too bad we both got completely drenched.” He threw Jem a wink. “What?’ Jem whispered, completely baffled. Nate leaned in extra close, close enough for Jem to guess what brand of toothpaste he used. “Don’t worry. Nobody will know.” He lightly punched Jem in the shoulder. “I told you not to push yourself and drink that much water all at once,” Nate hissed. “Like, I get it. That could’ve happened to anybody. But you can’t risk that happening again. Anybody else here would have Adopted you right on the spot.”. All the muscles in Jem’s face ached. “Anybody else?” “:Literally anybody else.” That was the moment Jem felt his heart break. “Thanks,” Jem said, holding back sobs. “You’re a really good friend.” “Don’t mention it, LIttle dude.” Ten minutes later, Jem trudged out of the locker room wearing the clothes he’d come in with. Carmen stopped laying into the bag and looked particularly confused. Disturbed even. Jem paid her no mind. ************************************************************* “Alright,” Nate instructed. “We’re just gonna hang here in plank for a second. Then we’re gonna go down for a three count, hold for a three count, and push back up for a three count.” Jem nodded. “Uh-huh.” Beads of sweat were running down his face. They’d been at this for close to an hour. “Ready? One…two…three…and hold….one…two…three…back up…one…two…three…” They were doing slow push-ups, stretches, and other strength building exercises that even a Little could do in a land of giants. Nate was doing everything with Jem, and not even breaking a sweat. “Down again…one…two…three…and hold…one…two…three…aaaaand lower all the way down to your belly.” Jem had no idea why he was doing this anymore. He was torturing himself, physically and mentally, looking and wishing for himself. He didn’t want to be a baby, he wanted to be Nate’s. But literally anybody else would want him…anybody but Nate. He supposed he came back due to sunk cost fallacy and wanting to keep up appearances. He’d finish out the week, he’d decided, then maybe put in another week, and then fade away like most sporadic gym members. The only thing that would happen is his membership would be revoked. Being here also gave him an excuse to spend just a few more days with the Daddy that wasn’t meant to be. He’d get over it in time, but he was allowed to enjoy the fantasy for a few more days. Somehow it hurt less now that he knew his unexpected dream was off the table. “Inhale into cobra,” the pair arched their backs up from the mat. “Exhale into downward facing dog.” In unison they arched their backs and rocked themselves onto their hands and feet while sticking their tailbones into the air. “Aaaaand lower down to safety zone!” They collapsed into what most yoga practitioners would call ‘The Child’s Pose’. Nate had a different name for it, just in case anybody get the wrong idea about his Little friend. “Okay,” Jem said from the resting and recovery position. “I think that’s enough for me today.” Nate picked himself up. “I agree. You really worked hard today, my dude. Super focused.” Jem was still so tired that he hadn’t moved yet. “Yeah. I guess I am.” “You’re doing a good job. Listening to your body and paying attention to your limits. I’m proud of you.” Jem sighed. His heart fluttered but his face didn’t flush. What would have been the point? “Yeah. Awesome.” Nate offered his hand down. “Want help up?” Jem picked his head up and accepted the help. “Yeah.” It was a quick trip up to his feet. “Thanks, Daddy.” Nate looked horrified. “What did you say?” Jem frowned. “Thanks, Nate?” “No…” Nate said. “You didn’t.” The Little played back what he’d said in his head. The blood drained all the way down to the soles of his feet in pure unadulterated embarrassment. Jem dashed out of the building at a dead sprint. He didn’t even think about going back for his clothes or wallet or the key to his apartment. He was still in the blue teddy jammies that had been substituted as gym clothes. It was a miracle he made it back home. ********************************************************************************* Nate found Jem in the Laundry room later that day, with Jem leaned up against his favorite dryer. “Hey,” said. Jem closed his eyes and exhaled. “Hey.” “You left without your stuff.” “Yeah,” Jem said. “ I know.” He’d accidentally locked himself out of his apartment. Going to the manager’s office dressed like this was a surefire way to get snatched up by the landlord or the property manager. Jem wouldn’t have cared so much a couple days ago. The laundry room was the only safe place to hide. “I had a talk with my boss,” Nate said. “She thinks you’ve got Maturosis or something.” Jem waited for a question. “Is Maturosis real?” “No?” Jem said. “Yes? I don’t know!” He was so utterly humiliated having to talk about this that he was on the verge of turning into a sobbing mess. Knowing that no one would be there to comfort him was the only thing that was holding him together. “Right,” Nate replied as if Jem’s cracking voice and indecision were legitimate answers. “Do you wanna talk to me about it? I can make you a protein shake or something. I brought your stuff back to my place.” Jem blinked away the tears. Might as well get this over with. “Sure. Yeah.” They walked side by side to Nate’s apartment on the other end of the complex from Jem’s. Any lingering hopes that some crazy paternal instinct had been activated inside the dudebro were dashed when they walked in. “Sorry about the mess.” Jem had seen messier. His own apartment in fact. Yeah, there were dishes in the sink, and another laundry basket full of clothes on the couch, but other than that it wasn’t terrible. No baby powder scent. No highchair in the kitchen. Nothing resembling a playpen or parts of a crib that had yet to be assembled. Amazons were supposed to be really good at setting up that sort of thing…when they wanted to. Nate leaned up against his own beige couch, and pretended to be interested in the ceiling. “So…” “So…” Jem echoed. “Did I do this to you?” Yes! Yes, yes, yes! “What do you mean?” “Like…did I do something or say something that made you pee your pants yesterday?” His face scrunched up. “Or like, manipulate you into getting carried around?” How could this wonderful idiot not look in the mirror or hear the sound of his own gentle voice and not know? “Not technically, no.” “Technically? Jem shook his head and rattled his brains. “I mean ‘no’. Nevermind. What else?” “So you wanted to have an accident? And get picked up? And call me…y’know…Daddy? You did all that on purpose?” Could such things really be called acts of free will when the alternative seemed so much the worse? Did a man shooting himself in the foot really have the choice if it felt like there was another gun to his heart? “The Daddy thing was the only accident. Sorry.” “Why?” “Why?” Jem’s face contorted. “If I knew why, it wouldn’t be an accident.” A beat. “Sorry.” “No. Other ‘why’. Why did you do that stuff?” “Sorry,” Jem said again. “I wanted you to…” it was so much harder now that he was saying it out loud. “I wanted you to be my Daddy. Sorry.” “Why?” “You know how some Amazons look at a Little and just wanna…you know?” Nate stopped looking at the ceiling. “Cossetting, yeah.” Without realizing it, Jem had pulled his sleeves over his hands and was twisting them up. “I think I got like…the opposite…for you. Sorry.” The himbo looked confused. “That’s a thing?” “It is for me,” Jem whispered. “But only for you. Sorry.” Nate bobbed his head and moved his lips but no sound came out. He was clearly talking to himself. “Why do you keep saying you’re sorry?” Jem’s face scrunched up like a toddler. His throat closed up and the next words came out squeaky as the tears dripped down his face “Because you…don’t..want…!” “I kinda do, though.” The Little’s heart leapt up into his throat. “You what?” “Dude, I kinda wanted to take you home and rock you to sleep the second I saw you. I was just trying to respect you. You know, as a person, instead of a baby. Not that babies aren’t people, but…” The nature of the tears was turning from one emotion to another. “Yeah,” Jem sniffed. “I…I get it.” “Thing is,” Nate huffed. “If I Adopt you, I don’t know how I’m gonna afford you. Babies can get expensive. Like I bet I could get free daycare, but even diapers can get expensive.” “I could…” Jem ventured…”I could still make and sew baby clothes and stuff. None of my customers know I’m a Little.” He thought about it. “Knowing I’m a Little might help, actually.” Jem hung his head, bracing himself for the incoming rejection. It was a dumb idea, anyways. “Dude! That’s genius!” Jem met the Amazon man’s gaze. “Please don’t call me ‘Dude’.” The dudebro blushed. “Oh. Right. Bad nickname. Bud? Bud.” Bud? Yeah. Better. Jem gave a weak but approving smile. Nate walked around to his couch and sat down next to the laundry basket.. Unbidden Jem followed him around. He waited for Nate to pat his lap. He was relieved that he didn’t have to wait long. He climbed all the way up and sat himself on the big man’s knee, feeling strangely euphoric. “Tell you what, Bud,” Nate said. “Why don’t we try this out? I’ll take a week off from work. We’ll try it out. If we both like it. We’ll Adopt.” “We’ll…?” Jem looked into his maybe-Daddy’s beautiful blue eyes filled with questions. Nate hadn’t mentioned anyone else. Was he going to have to share? “Yeah,” Nate smiled. “You and me, Jem. You and me. We found each other. Baby boy and Daddy.” Jem lost it in the best way.“Oh Daddy!” he cried out, loving the sound of it coming from his lips. “Daddy, Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy Daddy!” He cried and stood up on his Daddy’s lap, giving him the biggest hug, even though there was no way he’d be able to wrap his arms around the giant. That was Daddy’s job! He peppered Nate’s chest and neck and chin with tiny kisses, squeezing him so tight he’d sooner become a tattoo than let go. “Whoah! Bud!” Nate laughed. He threw in a few pecks on Jem’s forehead, anwyas. It was unsurprisingly easy for him to peel the manic Little off his chest. “Jem, what are you doing, baby?” Jem stood balanced on one giant knee. “Huh?” Was he already doing something wrong? “You can’t get that excited, Little boy.” Nate reached over into the laundry basket. From out of it he produced a package of Monkeez. It was a convenience pack, something sold at a convenience store, but it was a start. The Little on the front looked incredibly happy. Jem was about to top it. “Not without getting properly dressed.” ********************************************************************************************* “Good morning, Nathan,” Carmen said a week later. “Welcome back. How was your week off?” Nate stood in the doorway of her office. Her best personal trainer was combed and crisp and clean for work, and had an extra sparkle in his eye. The Little baby on his hip had darker hair and eyes, but there was a distinct matching twinkle. The teddy bear version of her sweat suit line she favored looked good on the forever child. It somehow looked more appropriate without the sneakers covering up the footie parts. A keen eye would reveal that more was different beyond a lack of pretense. Someone had altered the bottom half so that there were snaps along the inseam and up along the crotch, to give caregivers and daycare workers easier access to the Little’s diaper. This Little was diapered, too. Either that or he’d gained the lower equivalent of a beer belly. More interestingly, the zippered front had been redone in snaps, too. If they were Amazonian grade, the Little wouldn’t be strong enough to dress or undress himself without adult help. Most peculiar and fascinating of all, the faded black logo that said ‘Carmen’s Gym’ had been completely replaced with the bright yellow block font of her other business and now the outfit read ‘C.G. Daycare.’ Carmen decided right then that she liked it, and would figure out how to get more. She had an entire back room filled with those things in both pink and blue. The only reason she hadn’t decided to use them as uniforms was because the Little dickenses kept stripping down to their diapers. Nate grinned like the proud papa he’d become and looked over “Pretty good, boss. Pretty good.” “Good. Glad you don’t need paternity leave. Get that cutie checked in next door, and you can show me all the baby pictures you want later.” “Yes ma’am,” the Daddy and his new Little boy accidentally said in unison. They looked at each other and the Little giggled while his Daddy cooed at him. Their enthusiasm and love for each other made Carmen smile as she watched the adorable duo head next door, happy for the both of them. (The End)

*Future me here, this is the first story I wrote on here and therefore, there are many things that are different. First, like many of the other Diaper Dimension stories, this story may contain elements that some may find unnerving or even unsettling to read about. I do not agree with these methods, but I have included them because I also know they make some pretty good fiction. Additionally, there is a soft sequel to this one which can be found at the following link: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/90405-dashs-redemption-a-stuffys-tale-and-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-15-complete/ Chapter 1: The Trio in the House “Hey there. I’m Hopper and this is the nursery.” I’m standing in a typical nursery meant for any baby boy. Fully stocked, practical and cute. Little cartoon boats even dot the walls. “It might not be a thing out of place in scores of households in other dimensions, but this isn’t the typical dimension you might have been expecting. Sure, there are cars, postmen, government issues and scandals, the weather still rains and shines alike, and the average person here looks very much like most others do, with one exception; their height. At least compared to most other places. This dimension has come to be known by many names, but I know most in other dimensions refer to this as the Amazon dimension.” I pause for a moment. “Get it? They’re super tall, and that’s the big difference here. Along with their amazing technology, they’re almost twice the size of 90% of the other dimensions out there.” I pause for a moment. “Let me know if I need to take a breath or anything. I know it can be a bit jarring for some at first.” “Me, personally, I don’t really care about those things and the vector energy pathways separating out the dimensions from one another. Leave that to the politicians claiming other worlds and the scientists bridging the gaps. I really only care about a few of my friends and the two other people who live in this house with me; Monica and Charles… well, Charley.” “Now hold still Charley,” a forceful yet calm, sing-song voice echoes through the hallway outside the nursery from the bathroom. “That would be Monica. She’s the head of this house and what people here refer to as a Big. She’s right about average at 10 feet tall and certainly turns heads when walking into a room for her regal and yet almost farmer’s daughter looks. It’s an odd combination, but she definitely makes it work. I know Charley had a bit of a crush on her at one point in the beginning… but that was a long time ago now.” I look at the darkly stained oak crib to my left, standing as just one of the monuments to the changes that had occurred since I had come into this house. I shake my head. Such ideas don’t help anyone. “Despite her being a Big, and all that entails here with the ‘mommy instincts,’” using air quotes as best I can, “she’s sadly probably one of the more level-headed Bigs one would find in this dimension. Most treat their charges as their relative heights would suggest. If that means drooling on the carpet and laughing at silly infantile games, so be it. Monica may stoop occasionally, but Charley is at least still aware of what’s around him currently.” A high-pitched laugh bounces off the corners of the house. It seems pained and joyful at the same time. “Ah… tickle time. Monica’s newfound joy in life with Charles and one of her ‘stooping’ moments.” I listen to the continuing peals of laughter coming from the bathroom. “She must really be going at him today if he’s laughing that much. Probably needed a pick me up this morning. Almost seems like he needs them a bit every once in a while now since… well, Dash.” I shake my head again, now trying to dispel his image out of my head. “Anyway, for all the normies not in the Guinness World Record books or who aren’t natives, I will assume most people you know would be classified like Charley: a Little. I suppose some of the more blessed individuals could be considered in the middle category, but if you’re below 6 feet, don’t even think about trying to pass as a Middle. The Bigs will spot those people a mile away and punish them for lying. Most of the time, by the end, the liars will care more about the rattle in front of them than a few measly inches and the possibility about being labeled as a Middle. Lying is never good, particularly with this society.” “Charley, or Charles back when I first met him, was 5’9” on a good day before he shrunk a few inches on the trip over here, so he never had a chance with the Bigs, which is how he came to be living under Monica’s roof in the first place. Some trip with sapphire? Ruby? Emerald? I can’t remember, but he became just another missing tourist statistic in that tour group. Since then, he’s been Charles, Charley, C-Man, Honey, Sweetie, baby, darling, and a dozen or more names. We’ve been together since almost the beginning, so I would know.” “Too much? That’s fine, just call him Charley. It’s officially Charles but that name went out with the rest of the items considered at all mature.” I take a breath and then continue. “It took some time for us to become friends, but once we did, we became inseparable. Going through all he did, a friend is a critical element. He sought comfort with me, more than anyone else. A bond like that can only grow from such circumstances.” I pause and try not to get emotional over talking about the past. It’s tough when viewing all the changes firsthand. “Anyway, I admired his intellect, stubbornness, reserved dignity, and strong creative streak. He admired my calm, superb listening skills, and if he will admit it or not, my fur.” I pause to emphasize what I had just said. “That’s right, my fur. You see, I’m the third in this little trio, but I’m neither Big nor Little. Not even a Middle. I’m a stuffed animal… a bunny to be more precise. Obvious when you look at me, I know, but it’s an important factor to know before I tell you anymore.” I straighten up and flex out my diminutive fluffy figure. “Name’s Hop, or Hopper. Charley named me that the first day we met. Not the most creative of name choices, but I think he just wanted Monica to leave be that night. If I’m being honest, that name was probably for the best, as it could still be used once Monica’s plans had come to fruition. I see the looks in other carer’s eyes when some of my friends are still being called adult names. A turtle named Gunther can only last so long with a regressed Little. Imagine trying to say that with a pacifier in your mouth or when your teeth have been pulled in the more extreme of cases. It’s not a pretty sight. Not that Hopper is any easier, but it’s at least more passable. But Hop, well, Hop is perfect. Definitely more than Mister Bunny, my original store name you see.” I shake my appendages out from sitting nestled against the crib for some time. “Come on with me. Daily stretching time. You see, a toy here can never be too careful to blend in. Society can’t know about toys being real and all. Imagine the paranoia.” I shudder as I begin to stretch at the mere thought. “Talk about yikes. These people are crazy enough as it is, so you don’t want to add to that pile, but still, you’ve got to take your breaks where you can.” I flex my arms out and check my fragile and more recent stitching under my arm. “Can never be too careful as a toy either. This world is hard for a Little, but it can be an outright deathtrap for a toy…” “Take that Captain Purple Beard!” Monica shouted from the bathroom. “No mommy! Never!” Tickle time had apparently ended. Playing with bath toys always came next. “Moving on… I know not all toys have this life though. When I was at the mall, I met the lost and found toys at night. Some had come accompanying children and others had been with adults or even the kids from the other dimensions. Why someone would bring their kid here is beyond me, but in they came, so losing a toy was pretty easy to do. We always felt bad for the adult toys however, because if any Big caught an adult carrying a toy… well, it’s basically a giant beacon advertising that Little wants to be adopted… Those toys were often never claimed or saw their owners again. Probably for the best from what I’ve seen. A toy can feel just as sad over a loss, you know?” “I couldn’t believe some of the toys in there. They were so high and mighty because they thought they were celebrities. Apparently, their dimension had this whole franchise about toys coming to life. It’s tough to imagine an entire society knowing that toys were truly alive, but it always got confirmed that everyone thought it was just from the mind of a really creative team and not something that could ever truly happen. That is at least once you got them talking for a bit and not just bragging. In the end, if any of those toys actually ever were retrieved, they usually never wanted to come back and preferred their own dimension over ours. Can’t blame them there.” I stretch one ear and then the other, and they flutter slightly as they both reach their furthest point. “Oh yeah. That’s the spot… where was I?” I pause for a moment and collect my thoughts. “Oh, yes! Not every toy is cut out for this dimension, but there are some pretty big positives. In other dimensions, toys are used until they break, or the child grows up. If they’re lucky, they’ll be donated to a new owner to start the cycle again or be placed in storage. The unlucky ones get dumped and ruined to the point where no child would ever want to play with them, which inevitably leads to them rotting away in a dump or worse… being incinerated.” I shudder in fear at the thought. “Fortunately, here, a Little growing up is practically unheard of. The love of a Little could last decades, and most toys only fade away after completely wearing out or if their Little passes away.” Charley laughs again from the bathroom and reminds me of how we got here in the first place. Why a nursery was even in this house in the first place. I look at the ground in shame and regret. “I can’t lie though…” I let out a big sigh and lean back into the changing table nearby, “sometimes, being a toy here is tough. All other toys’ main objective is creating joy and love in a child’s life and to be loved and cherished back. In the past five years though, toys here have another purpose. We’re now equipped with subliminal messages we have to use on the Littles. Most Bigs don’t realize the messaging is in all toys now, though many of them know at least of the possibility of having similar technology in the specially marked toys. The Mister Cuddles Bear line was extremely popular about three years ago. It alone could regress a Little in under a month after being prompted to do so by the Big. Most Littles didn’t know about the technology until it was too late. They would cling to their one unjudging friend, and it would be all over. Seek comfort after a tough day of mentally regressing and the bear would only further the cycle and send them further downward. Poor little tykes.” “Due to this new technology though, all toys now have a primary mission of using their messaging, or other bits of regressive technology, on their Littles until the desired regression has been achieved. Once it has, we become like any other toy, but our primary mission still hangs over us like a dark cloud of guilt. How could a toy profess to love and care for their Little when every day with them will just lead the Little back to their early childhood or earlier? It’s a question every toy now asks themselves and then must live with afterward. I envy anyone like you that doesn’t have to worry about that in their lives. The ones that see a Little after they’ve been regressed…” Oh god! Please help me, Hop. I don’t know if I can make it through this… Please don’t let her take me… take my mind. Oh. Oh no! Anything but that. Not now! The memory strikes deep within me. It passes in a moment but the pangs of guilt are still there. I glance around the baby blue nursery and infantile accoutrements laid before me with regret. “This is what I must live with now. It wasn’t all me, but I started the process, and I can’t escape it. This room was once classified as a ‘big boys’ room. Charles cringed at that for the longest time… until he didn’t, when he became Charley.” Despite the cartoon characters on the walls and clothing suited for someone under eight, it seemed practically adult compared to where I was standing now. A long changing table packed with diapers and everything else one needs to facilitate those with a Little; a tall and inescapable crib, a bouncer, a rocking chair strong and wide enough for any Big to cuddle with their Little on, a toy chest packed with items only Littles could treasure, and a small bookcase filled with books, where those at the top could be read by a Big and those at the bottom could really only be looked at by Littles. “I miss the ‘big boy’ room.” “I can’t say that I do…” a voice says from above. “I can’t blame you there, Sandy,” I say to the moon-shaped nightlight perched at the top of the dresser. “You only came in when Charley started getting afraid of the dark again. That was right when all this started to change.” “Yep. I would have loved to have met ‘Charles.’ But hey, at least you get to play with him…” “Very true, Sandy. Very true.” I pause and see his faint glow in the dim room of the afternoon. “Charley definitely appreciates you though.” “Right as always, Hop,” he replies back. “The little bugger loves my safety at night. Can’t blame a Little for that.” He’s right and I settle fully back against the changing table and smell the cacophony of nursery-associated smells. I focus on the sweeter ones of clean linen and baby powder to distract myself. “Anyway, regardless of what this place looks like now, I remember what it used to look like when I came home from the mall with Monica. Back before…” I gesture around the nursery, “all this.”

One pill makes you larger, And one pill makes you small I lay on my unmade bed, the sunlight filtering in through the curtains and casting a warm glow over my room. It was a mess, with clothes strewn across the floor and posters peeling off the walls. My eyes were fixed on the letter in my hand, my mind racing with excitement and fear. The invitation to the exchange student program in another dimension was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a way to break free from the shadows of my father and brother. I had always lived in their shadow, always felt like a disappointment. But doubts swirled in my mind. What if I failed? What if I didn't fit in? Despite my fears, I needed advice from someone who understood the weight of this decision. Despite our complicated relationship, I decided to call Alex, my older brother and the heir to our father's corrupt empire. "Hey, it's Eric," I said, my voice trembling with nerves. "I received a letter about an exchange student program in another dimension. I wanted to know your thoughts on it." There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Finally, Alex spoke. "It might be worth considering. It could be a chance for you to grow up a little." I bristled at his words, but I knew he was right. I had been living a reckless and aimless life, and this program could be the opportunity I needed to find a sense of purpose. After the call, I decided to speak to my father. I walked down the long hallway to his office, my heart pounding in my chest. He was a distant and imposing figure, always focused on business and the success of his corrupt empire. But I needed to know what he thought about the program. As I entered the room, my father's eyes locked onto mine. He was surrounded by his business associates, his face stern and unyielding. "What do you want?" he asked sharply. I handed him the letter and said, "I received an invitation to an exchange student program in another dimension. I wanted to know what you thought about it." He scanned the letter, his expression unreadable. "It's your decision to make, Eric. But remember, you will be representing our family. Make sure you conduct yourself accordingly." "I understand," I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "I just wanted to know if you thought it was a good opportunity." My father hesitated for a moment before saying, "It could be. But it's up to you to make the most of it." I nodded, feeling a sense of relief. My father had never been one for words of encouragement, but his neutral response was better than a negative one. As I left my father's office, the letter still clutched in my hand, I felt a new sense of purpose. This was my chance to break free from the expectations of my family, to find a path of my own. It was a risk worth taking. The days between the acceptance of my application and my departure for the exchange program were both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. I spent hours poring over travel guides and packing and repacking my bags. My father didn't say much about my upcoming journey, but I could tell he was secretly pleased. Perhaps he saw this as an opportunity for me to make something of myself and shed the reputation of being a disappointment. "Make sure you conduct yourself appropriately," he said gruffly, as I sat in his office going over my travel documents. "I will, Dad," I said, trying to keep my voice even. Alex surprised me with a thoughtful gift - a new set of tools to work on my beloved car. It was a reminder that despite our differences, he still cared about my passions. "Make sure you take good care of it," he said, handing me the toolbox. "And be careful out there. It's a strange world in that dimension." "I will," I said, surprised at the show of concern from my older brother. As the day of my departure drew near, I couldn't shake the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. The idea of leaving everything I knew behind and entering a completely new dimension was both exciting and terrifying. "I don't know if I can do this," I said to Alex as we sat in the living room, surrounded by my bags. "What if I don't fit in? What if I'm not good enough?" "You'll be fine," Alex said, clapping me on the back. "It's scary, I know. But you're brave, Eric. And you're smart. You'll figure it out." I felt a warmth in my chest at his words. Perhaps our relationship wasn't irreparably broken after all. On the morning of my departure, my father gave me a curt nod and wished me luck. Alex gave me a rare smile and a pat on the back, wishing me well on my journey. As I made my way to the portal that would take me to the new dimension, I felt a mix of excitement and fear. But I knew that this was my chance to break free from the expectations of my family, to find a path of my own. It was a risk worth taking.

Incomplete | In-progress This is generated from a "what if" idea The Diaper dimension as portrayed by many is too harsh This idea is about a flipped world where the decision of an Amazon brought about a rude shift in the power dynamic between the Amazon, 'Tweeners and Littles alike. Plot Settings: Lozali: Future Amazonia by a century Amazonia: Here we have our lovely diaper dimension Earth: Our dear Earth NB: 'Lozali' is made up from Amazonia and Libertalia LIttle scenes: Moved to https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/57308-idea-adoption-thread/&do=findComment&comment=2046649 Updated Version there ☝️

When Samatha Bek took the job it was original an online career, but two years ago. Her workplace made it mandatory for all employees to go to the office. That was when the company realized their head of marketing was a little. In the Amazon world, she knew people who view her as a baby. She was determined not to let that happen. She became cold and would snap and fire Amazons that tried anything. She would always go to the bathroom before any meeting. She would try to be one of the last people to leave work and she never went to any work parties. After a while, the company knew her as an ice queen. To some she was view as a demon in a little body. The rare few saw her as the ultimate prize. Samatha was in her private office just finished check on the progress of their employees. She was not happy. It did not help she fired a Amazon yesterday for trying to give her a pacifier as a joke. She went to the room most of her employees were, including her assistant. “Okay, due to some of the projects are not done. I am offering overtime to who ever stays behind and helps me finish the marketing plan due tomorrow. Do I have any takers?” Asked Samatha.

Oh, he was going to be threateningly close to being late again. He'd make it but it was going be close! Stupid, stupid. Bleh. All because he kept sleeping so deeply lately and then waking up..... He'd been so silly. Nowhere near as careful as he should've been. Every Little knew about hypnotic cartoons, it's why basically no Little had a TV in their home. And didn't go skipping off to the movies without a care, you had to be careful! But, oh no, he'd gotten himself too invested in clicking through random videos on his phone while bored and well.....he was getting through it. He wasn't even going to think about it any further! If he forgot about it, maybe that'll... Ravio sighed, hurriedly hopping out of the shower to do the quickest towel dry he could, before tugging a sweater on. Comfortable pants, good shoes, and he was set! He'd grab his apron at work. He frowned, giving himself 30 seconds in the mirror to quickly yank a comb through his hair and make sure he was presentable. Couldn't afford to look sloppy or like he wasn't caring for himself after all! Shoulder length black hair hurriedly combed into submission, no sign of tiredness around those bright green eyes. He thought he had it better than some Littles anyway. He wasn't that small, gave him more of a pass than someone a few inches shorter than he might have. He was on the skinny and lanky side too, no tempting baby fat around his cheeks. Nobody was going to be snatching him off the streets on the crime of looking too cute or vulnerable. The only thing that might....put him in a bit of danger were those obnoxious amount of freckles. Covered his face, arms, legs...basically everywhere. He'd spent all his teenage years hoping he'd grow out of them like most kids did. You don't see that many adults with an excessive amount of freckles unless it was make-up or an adopted Little who's parents wanted to make them a bit more cute and childlike... But! But...nothing he could do about that. And he was wasting time feeling bad for himself. Ravio hopped off the stepstool he used to reach the sink easier, ducking out of his bathroom. His apartment was nothing special; just a studio apartment sized for either a tall Tweener or a shorter than average Amazon. Heat always went out a few times a month, hot water was either lukewarm or scorching hot, and he was far too nervous to ever actually approach his landlord for repairs....but it was the only rent in this area he could afford. And he liked this area! His work was only two streets down, right in walking distance! And it was semi close to a grocery store....it was the little things he'd deal with the big things for. Ravio nervously dawdled for a moment, glancing at his phone's time before...before risking one last quick bathroom break. Just...just in case. Claire.....Claire would probably cover him for a minute or two....But he was out a few moments later; locking his door behind him and hurrying out to the streets below. No one in the elevator...good good....helped his nerves. Not that there ever anyone up at this time really. You work at a bakery, you start before the sun was up after all! It was still pretty dark on his walk over. He thankfully made good time on his walk over, reaching the small (well, small for an Amazon) little bakery and sweets shop not too long after. "Here! Sorry!" Ravio apologized rapidly even as he closed the door behind him, resisting the urge to anxiously twiddle his fingers. Okay...okay...maybe only a minute later. That was fine, that was fine. They still had about an hour before the morning rush hit, and people about to head to work or school stumbled in for their breakfast. "Good morning though!" He did try to at least make the greeting cheerful enough as he headed to grab his apron and wash his hands. Though, he did have to pull out his stepstools again that the nightly cleaning staff always tucked away.... But um! Seemed..seemed like a nice morning! Just him and Claire on dough duty most weekdays, the girl who worked the register didn't have to show up for another 40 minutes. And Laura worked weekends in the morning and didn't come until later for weekdays...that was nice. Very very nice. Because his hair was still a bit damp, and he was hoping no one would draw attention to it. Once he was all set for the day, he offered his work friend a small smile. "Did you have a nice night at least?"

“Kyyyyyyyle!” Mommy called from across the playground. “Come heeeere.” She sounded happy. Whimsical even. This made Kyle feel the opposite. He’d just started getting into a rhythm, climbing up the low winding stairs of the jungle gym and then sliding down safely into the rubber mulch. “Damphiff” He mumbled behind his pacifier. He was just getting brave enough to consider going down the slide a different way besides butt seated and feet splayed out. The slide ramp went straight to the ground so no freefall, and it was wide enough that two littles could go down at the same time…or one Little to roll sideways down it. Such as his life was, things like which way to go down a slide was one of the few actual choices Kyle got to make. “Kyyyyyyle!” Kyle hiked up his green shorts and pulled down his green shirt so that the minimum amount of his diaper would show, even though he knew that the shirt would ride up and the shorts would inch down as soon as he started walking. He spared a glance at the cartoon dog on his shirt. Mint’s Hints. Weird that a show from his childhood-his first childhood- was still on the air. He wanted to think that it was weird that he was still watching it, but for a Little, it really wasn’t. “Kyle!” Mommy was losing patience. The sandy blonde Little boy waddled and shuffled through the park’s playground. Other Littles in their twenties, thirties, and forties played games meant for children aged two, three and four, all under the watchful eyes of their giant adoptive parents. Not thirty feet from the bench where Mommy and some other Amazons were sitting a really intense game of duck-duck-goose was under way. “Yesh, Mommy?” Mommy had the exact same color hair as him. It’s probably why she adopted him in the first place. Next to Mommy another giant woman was breastfeeding a Little girl in a pink jumper dresser. Kyle gulped. He hoped Mommy wasn’t about to the same same. “Kyle, there you are! Could you not hear Mommy?” “Shorry Mommy…” He looked down at his light up sneakers and crinkled lightly in place. It was hard enunciating around the pacifier, but Kyle had gotten good at it over the years. “It’s okay baby,” Mommy said. She grabbed him by the shoulders and maneuvered him closer. “Let’s check your diaper.” A weary sigh made its way out over the pacifier bulb. Kyle readied himself. Mommy squeezed at his crotch and snaked two fingers up his shorts and inside the leg gathers of his diaper. “Kyle! Is your diaper wet?” Mommy asked. “Yesh, Mommy…” “Do big boys go pee-pee in their pants?” “No Mommy…” “Did you know you went pee-pee in your pants?” “Yesh, Mommy…” “Why didn’t you come tell Mommy that you had an accident?” “I wush pwayin’...” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “No Mommy.” All of this was just a script that played out time and time again, especially when Mommy thought he was acting a little too big for his britches. Kyle knew his diaper was wet. He couldn’t help it. Conditioning-hypnotic and otherwise-had made him functionally incontinent. The second his bladder was full enough to register to his conscious mind, it emptied itself right into his pants. Trying to hold it in only gave him anxiety. Same with telling on himself or asking someone to change him; it made his fear response go through the roof. He knew it was complete bullshit, but his unconscious brain had been given the connection that bothering Grown-Ups about one’s diaper is not something good boys did. So anytime he even considered whining or crying about the state of his pants, he felt incredibly anxious, akin to stepping out onto a twentieth story ledge. Trying to take off his diaper was on the same emotional level as being trapped under water and needing to inhale. But as far as Mommy and her conditioning was concerned, this was all just reinforcing how immature he was and how he needed his baby pants. “Turn around,” Mommy said. Kyle did and drooped his head, readying himself for the next phase of the ritual, feeling the air rush into the back of his diaper while Mommy pulled the waistband back and looked down. “Kyle! Is your diaper messy?” “Yesh,Mommy…” “Do big boys go poopy in their pants?” “No, Mommy…” “Did you know you went poopy in your pants?” “Yesh, Mommy…” “Why didn’t you come tell Mommy that you had an accident?” “I wush pwayin’...” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “No, Mommy.” Mommy turned Kyle around so that he could see the knowing look to her peers. “Littles. What would they do without us.” That got some knowing nods from the assembled giants. The one breastfeeding switched the Little over to her other breast. “What happens to big boys who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?” Mommy asked. More of the script. “They get shpankt” Kyle mumbled. “What happens to babies who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?’ Kyle bit down into the pacifier to spare his tongue. Then said, “They gesh a diapher chahshe.” “Why?” “Cush dere Mommiesh wuf dem.” A chorus of ‘Awwws’ accompanied Mommy grabbing the Mints Hints diaper bag and picking Kyle up by the waist. It wasn’t a long trip. Just enough to be on the grass away from the bench. Kyle realized what was happening and spit out his pacifier. “Mommy! No! Bathroom please!” They were close enough to the circle of Littles that Kyle could make out when someone enthusiastically yelled ‘Goose’! Mommy kept laying out the changing mat in the grass. “Your diaper was clean when we got out of the stroller,” she said. Kyle’s pants were down around his ankles and he was laid down. His shirt was yanked up above his belly button. “You said it yourself. You pee-peed and poopied in your pants and you were too busy playing with all your Little friends to stop. That means you shouldn’t mind getting changed in front of them.” She stuck the pacifier back in Kyle’s mouth. The answer was final. Kyle huffed and crossed his arms as his diaper was untapped and his legs were lifted into the air, broadcasting his messy bottom for all. He’d be embarrassed, but he’d already been through so much worse. It was more annoying than anything at this point. “Good baby,” Mommy cooed, wiping him up. That gave him a rush of endorphins. The programming he’d been subjected to worked both ways. Being called ‘cute’ and ‘good’ made all of his happy brain chemicals lurch into sudden overdrive. “Nooooooo….” Kyle looked up and over to the benches. The Little girl in the pink jumper dress was off her Mommy’s tit and was being burped. She was moaning pitfully and lightly squirming while her Mommy patted her back “Nnnnn…ugh…Nooooo!” Kyle saw the back of her diaper expand and sag. Her Mommy contentedly patted the back of her diaper and the girl’s shoulders started shaking. She must be new to this. “All done,” Mommy said She’d finished changing him while he’d been distracted watching somebody else’s ‘Year One’. “Go play.” She gave him a pat on his back seat to send him off. At least she didn’t want to breastfeed him right now. The Little boy toddled away, sucking on his pacifier. He joined in the Duck-Duck-Goose Game just so he’d have an excuse to sit and brood without looking like he was pouting. That and the jungle gym was so far away as to wind him. Between the thick diapers and the lack of coordination forced onto him with subsonic treatments to his inner ear, things like balance took a lot more stamina than they used to. Playing a game of Duck-Duck-Goose might qualify as quality cardio now. “Duck-Duck-Duck-Duck” .He shouldn’t have to be dealing with this nonsense at his age. Just because he was almost numb to the daily condescensions and humiliations didn’t make them right. He’d done his fair share of screaming and crying and denying and more crying early on, but all that did in the eyes of the Amazons was justify his treatment and his diagnosis of ‘Maturosis’. Leave it to the baby crazy titans to make up a disease that they didn’t catch and the only ‘cure’ was treating people with it the exact way Amazons wanted to treat Littles. “Duck-Duck-Duck” If Maturosis was really a health condition, and something Amazons could catch or develop, there’d be a worldwide panic. There’d be vaccines and hospitals and charities all rushing for a real cure. And clothing that didn’t have cartoon characters on it for people suffering from it. Or even better, what if they stuck to her own rules? Mommy lost her marbles when a Tweener misspelled her name on her coffee. Imagine her getting told that she was too immature to go to wipe her own ass or drink from something without a spill proof lid. Imagine Mommy getting fired from her job and slammed into a daycare. As traumatizing, embarrassing and humiliating as Kyle’s first year of this had been, Mommy’s first day would be hundreds of times worse…for her. “Goose!” ******************************************************************************************************** “Open up!” Mommy said. The spoon full of…eggs? Was it eggs? Whatever it was it was coming in low and slow towards Kyle’s mouth. Like a good baby, Kyle opened wide and let the yellow stuff be spooned in. Yup. It was eggs. Not salted or seasoned and somehow both dry and runny, but it was eggs. Maybe egg substitute? Regardless, the Little closed his mouth and swallowed the bland tasteless stuff. At least it wasn’t strained beets. “Do you wanna try feeding yourself?” A suppressed sigh. “Yes, Mommy.” Another ritual. Another bit of conditioning to just reinforce how absolutely helpless he was. Kyle didn’t have the fine motor skills or hand eye coordination to use a spoon anymore. She just wanted to get good use out of the bib tied around his neck and the ever present packet of wipes just out of reach. She loaded the plastic spoon and slipped it into his hand. Like a hungry predator she watched the spoon trembling in his grasp. If he just gave up and spilled it, he’d be punished. He had to embarrass himself and prove that he was an immature baby and not just an adult that had given up. Suport a lie to cover the truth. “We interrupt Helen in the Morning for this breaking news!” The mindless talk show that featured Middle Aged celebrities doing Click-Clack Dances and Rappers doing at home cooking segments was cut off. Two news anchors, a man and a woman, sat at their desk staring straight out to the camera. “Growing unease continues to spread around the world as more and more Amazons start to exhibit behaviors normally associated with Littles and Tweeners afflicted with the genetic condition commonly called Maturosis.” The lady anchor’s hair was bigger than her face and so pale as to be white. “That’s right Diane,” the dark haired anchor jumped in. “Maturosis, which is considered an inherited condition common in people with Little ancestry, is marked by symptoms that reduce them mentally and emotionally to small children, often requiring full time care and adoption.” “Best thing for them, really, Chuck” the lady anchor chimed in. “Right you are, Diane.” The male anchor continued. “Common symptoms of Maturosis often include emotional volatility, decreased balance, fine and gross motor skills, language impairment and decreased vocabulary, dyslexia, dysgraphia and of course a near complete inability to go to the potty like a big boy or girl.” The lady anchor arched an eyebrow and looked over to her cohort. “You mean incontinence, right Chuck?” There wasn’t enough makeup to hide the rising blush in the Amazon man’s. cheeks “Right you are, Diane.” The woman took over. “While this is considered a normal and adorable part of everyday life for most Littles, Tweeners and their parents, reports are starting to come in that such behaviors are starting to manifest in Amazons and in relatively large numbers.” “That’s impossible!” Mommy scoffed, completely absorbed in the T.V. Yeah, Kyle thought. Mostly because Maturosis didn’t actually exist. Just a set of ‘therapies’, ‘medicines’, ‘products’, and ‘treatments’ that caused and later exacerbated the symptoms. He put the spoon in his mouth and swallowed the eggs. ??? He put the spoon in his mouth and swallowed the eggs! “Mommy!” he screeched. “Mommy I did it! Look!” The Amazon waved it off. She was too busy staring at the screen. “Mommy! Look!” “Not now baby.” Kyle shut his mouth, feeling the dread rise up at him. If he argued or disobeyed her, he’d be being purposefully naughty. “As we all know, Amazons, Littles, and Tweeners have a shared ancestry,” The lady anchor said. “However, only Littles and Tweeners tend to exhibit Maturosis with Amazons requiring the same level of care being only a percent of a percent of the total population.” “But all of a sudden,” the male anchor took back over, “Amazons everywhere are beginning to show similar levels of immaturity across the board. Scientists always knew it was possible, but why now? Why so widespread and across the board? Is it the government doing something to the drinking water? Are foreigners to blame? Or is this some kind of terrorist attack?” “I personally think it’s a prank,” the lady anchor said, “that people are taking too far. Just like crop circles, or the Lockness Monster.” Mommy tilted her head sideways. “Huh?” Kyle’s brain took a moment to process her confusion. Two out of three friends from daycare had such extreme oral fixations that Kyle’s ear had trained itself to understand it when people were mumbling over pacifiers or around their thumbs. What the Amazon lady on the news had really said was. “Uh pershony fink isha pank phat peefle aw tayghin too fah. Chus wike cawf firkuhs.” “Diane, take your fingers out of your mouth…” The feed cut immediately. Mommy stood up and turned the television off. She did not sit back down, however. “That’s ridiculous,” she said to herself. “Some kind of joke or deep fake or whatever.” She was pacing the kitchen floor. Kyle stared at his forced caregiver’s feet and narrowed his eyes. Something was off about her, but he couldn’t quite figure it out. “Mommy?” Mommy stopped pacing and doubled back to the highchair. She grabbed a wet wipe. “Yes, baby? Are you finished trying to eat your eggies?” She looked at him. There was disappointment in her hazel eyes when she saw that the plate was clean and there was no mess on Kyle’s bib or face. She looked down at the floor to see if he’d spilled it. “Nothing?” Kyle didn’t take his eyes off her feet. “Mommy? Are your shoes on backwards?” Mommy bent over and inspected her flats. She let out a surprised gasp. “Oh gosh! How did that happen?” She hurriedly tried to correct the mistake, tripping all over herself and stumbling like a newborn foal. She finally remembered to sit down in the kitchen chair. Intensely curious, Kyle leaned forward in his highchair and almost fell over when the tray slipped out of place. Mommy had forgotten to click it all the way in. He had to catch it with both hands to prevent it from banging and clattering on the floor. Mommy was still muttering to herself, wondering how she’d gotten something as simple as her left and right shoes mixed up. She was having trouble getting the shoes back on, too. Cautiously, Kyle leaned out and placed the tray on the side of the breakfast table. Mommy had also forgotten to buckle him in, so there was no fighting against Amazon strength buckles. He still had to do his best not to look down, shimmying from the highchair to the floor. He felt the ache in his bladder and gritted his teeth. Holding it in until his feet safely touched the floor. “Got it!” Mommy said, and then looked up. Hunched over in her chair he was at about eye level with her Little baby. “Huh?” “I did it!” Kyle threw his arms up in the air. Some part of his training was still reinforcing desires to impress the woman who’d conditioned him back to toddlerhood. Mommy beamed. “Oh! You got out of your highchair!” she said. She sounded happy and surprised. Like a parent witnessing their child’s first steps. “You got town out of the highchair?” she repeated. “All? By? Yourself?” The color drained from both of their faces for completely different reasons. Kyle just consciously realized that he’d been holding his bladder all the way down the highchair and even now barefoot on the kitchen floor. He was so excited that he accidentally released it, flooding his Koddles. Mommy looked relieved when she saw the wetness indicator change color. That added wetness dampened his mood just a tad. “Mommy,” Kyle whimpered. “Can you change me?” The smile bloomed back on Mommy’s face, the shoe incident forgotten. “Of course, baby boy. Let’s go get you changed.” The change went the same as the countless changes beforehand and the same as the countless number that would follow. Except for one thing…. “Wipes…ball it up…pail…new diaper…powder…aaaaaand….done…” Mommy loved narrating so many of the humiliating events in Kyle’s life. Meals. Baths. Bedtime. Diaper changes. She Zon-splained everything as if Kyle was too stupid to understand that he’d spilt something or was bewildered about being carried around on her hip. Sometimes she got so into it that she would do it for everything that happened to him until bedtime and Kyle could hear her voice in his dreams. Right now was different. Her voice was quieter. She wasn’t narrating what she was doing to Kyle. She was talking to herself. And there was the slightest hint of doubt in her voice, like she wasn’t sure what the next step was. Was she…was she struggling to remember how to change a diaper? “All done!” Mommy chirped. “Let’s go on with our morning routine.” The pace picked back up to normal as Mommy carried Kyle out to the garage and grabbed the diaper bag off the hook by the door. Just like every morning, Kyle was buckled and strapped into his car seat-this time quietly- and Mommy walked around to the driver’s seat. She closed the door, clutched the black leather steering wheel and sat ready to drive. Except that she didn’t drive. Mommy just sat there, white knuckled, trying to will the car to life. “Mommy?” Kyle called. “Is everything okay?” “Everything fine, Kyle.” Mommy said. “Mommy’s just having a little car trouble.” The Little looked at his captor turned caregiver in the rearview mirror. “Don’t you need keys to turn the car on?” Mommy gasped. “Right right!” She slapped her forehead. “Silly Mommy! Mommy definitely needs her coffee. Ha-ha!” She scrambled around in her purse for the keys and the ridges on her forehead became more pronounced with every passing second. The closest she got were a rainbow colored plastic set. Her eyes lit up and she eventually found the actual car keys in the bottom of Kyle’s diaper bag. “Wow! How did those get there? Mommy really needs her morning coffee.” She fidgeted trying to find the right key, but eventually got the engine started on the third try. “Mommy…” Kyle called from the back. “What?” She was beginning to sound flustered. “Shouldn’t you put your seatbelt on?” Kyle said. “You always put your seatbelt on first before driving.” The car shut off. “On second thought, Mommy said. “Let’s go for a walk. The weather is wonderful this morning and your daycare isn’t very far away.” True enough but…”Won’t you be late for work?” “Let me worry about that, baby boy,” Mommy cooed. “That’s a Grown-Up problem, not a Little problem.” He supposed that was true. It was still weird to be unbuckled from his car seat without having actually gone anywhere. The transfer from car to umbrella stroller was a quick one, and Mommy was speed walking (speed strolling?), ill at ease down the street and out of the neighborhood proper as if something was chasing her. Kyle leaned back and just took in the sights, sucking on a bottle of juice that Mommy had shoved in his mouth after buckling him in. Being in his stroller gave him a certain level of protection. He was socially invisible, he could people watch, and his face was obscured most of the time. “What’s the matter, honey?” A voice caught Kyle’s attention. “Are you lost?” It sounded feminine, but also very, very small. Little. Yet the confidence and power it oozed was only regularly spouted by the giants. “She looks lost.” A second voice said. The words sounded concerned enough, but there was an underlying poison in the tone. “Do you need help sweetey? Where’s your Mommy and Daddy?” Kyle had seen this happen so many times before. Some poor Little would be surrounded by Amazons and if they didn’t play their cards right, there’d be a Monkeez or a Koddles on their butt by lunch. “I’m…I’m fine. Thank you very much.” The voice was deep and masculine and near booming…and…timid? “You don’t look fine.” The first said. “You look lost. Where’s your Mommy and Daddy?” “I…I…I don’t have one.” Cringing, with the same type of morbid curiosity of watching a flaming car crash in real time, Kyle turned his head to witness the scene playing out at a city bus stop. “Of course you do,” the second stranger said. “Everyone has a Mommy and Daddy. Don’t fib. Unless you still think the stork is real?” The two strangers, both women, put their hands to their lips and stifled giggles as if the idea that a grown man might believe in the stork was both natural and condescendingly precious. The boy, a man, actually looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m a Grown-Up. I don’t live with them anymore.” Despite his button up shirt, pleated pants, and loafers, he had the aura of a child who just happened to be dressed up to match Daddy. The fidgeting he was doing could be written off as being very uncomfortable at having his space invaded, or… “Do they know you’re out here all by yourself?” The first lady asked. “No…?” “I don’t think they let babies get on the bus without a guardian.” The second stranger said. The poor man was getting flustered, clenching his fists and fidgeting. “No…no…I don’t need...” “Do you want us to leave you alone?” The first one asked. Right on the heels of the first question, a second one came. “Do you need to go potty?” She addressed her friend. “I don’t think he has any protection on under those pants.” “One tiny tinkle and those pants will be ruined,” the first stranger agreed. “No snaps, either. Makes it more difficult to change. We should help him with that. Wouldn’t want his nice big boy pants to get all yucky because someone had an accident. This bus doesn’t stop for potty breaks.” The poor man finally lost it, overwhelmed, and stamped no foot. “No!” he said. “No! No! No!” “Awwww!” The first stranger said. “Poor thing doesn’t want us to leave him alone all by himself.” The two bullies were pretending that he was answering the first question about leaving him alone and not the full volley of taunts that had followed. “Come on, sugar,” the pair reached out and grabbed his hand, leading him away trembling but powerless to stop them. “We’ll catch the next bus. Let’s make sure you don’t have an accident, first.” The man turned around and flashed a frightened, overwhelmed, frustrated, and yet hopeful gaze behind him as the two strangers led him away, most likely to the closest shop that sold diapers in his size. It was the look of the damned searching for respite. Kyle had seen variations on this scene play out so many times that he’d become practically numb to it. It’s why he enjoyed playgrounds and daycares as much as he did because the worst of the trauma; adoption, had already happened to everyone. Kyle had seen something like this happen at least a hundred times since his own adoption. But never like this. Never with an Amazon man being the target. And never with two Littles being the ones setting him up for failure. That silent look of desperation and commiseration wasn’t directed at Kyle, but at the giant woman pushing his stroller behind him. “Poor thing thinks that just because he’s big means he’s a big boy.” The strangers threw Kyle a knowing conspiratorial wink. “We’ll help teach him the difference. Being an adult and being mature aren’t the same thing.” Kyle popped his thumb out of his mouth and wiped it on his shirt. “What the fuck?” he mouthed.. “Let’s get some coffee,” Mommy said loud enough so that Kyle could hear. The stroller swung wide and to the right, crossing the street so that they wouldn’t come across the giant who was about to be helplessly babied by people that were barely knee high to her. The bell above the coffee shop door jangled when they entered. It was actually very busy here, with people of all sizes side by side, many of them nervously sipping coffee and staring at a large flat screen T.V. Kyle hadn’t seen so many non-diapered Littles in one place since getting snatched up. Smart Littles tended to avoid Amazon spaces unless they absolutely had to. But here they were making coffee, mopping floors, and cleaning tables. More importantly, they had the strong, cheerful demeanor of someone who felt strong and secure in their work; and not at all intimidated. It was something like a herd of confident antelope trotting around a pride of hungry but oddly out of sorts lions. Kyle blinked and did a double take. Was the only adopted Little in the building? “Hello cutie!” The Tweener behind the counter said. “What can I get for you?” The presence of the black haired Tweener seemed to put Mommy at ease. Amazons liked Tweeners; people that they could boss around and be terrible to without feeling like they had to take care of them. Mommy regained a bit of pep in her step on their way up to the counter. “I’ll have a red eye.” “Say please.” Kyle looked up to see his Mommy flinch. “What?” The Tweener smiled. “I said, ‘say pleeeeease’!” “Please?” “Please what?” Mommy stiffened. “Please, I’d like to order a red eye…?” The woman behind the counter feigned thoughtfulness. “That’s an awful lot of caffeine,” she said. “You’re gonna be bouncing all over the place!” “I know.” Mommy’s tone was turning annoyed. She was struck temporarily mute when the Tweener leaned over the counter and made eye contact with Kyle in his stroller. “Is that okay with you, sir? Can she have a red eye?” Kyle felt his Mommy’s confusion. He was “Uh…yeah. Sure?” “Kay kay.” The cashier punched the order in. “Sorry about that.” Mommy found her voice. “It’s quite alri-” “I should have asked you first on whether she could have that much caffeine, but when she forgot to say please I saw it as a teachable moment.” The Tweener shuddered and gulped. “Not that you don’t teach her manners,” she quickly added. “It’s just that some people need a lot of help in learning. It takes a village, right?” Beads of nervous, confused sweat were forming on Kyle’s forehead. “Um…okay.” “What’s your name?” “Kyle.” “Thank you, Mister Kyle. The red eye will be ready in a minute.” Mommy wheeled him away to a clear table close to the Cafe’s flat screen television. “The nerve of some Tweeners,” she muttered to herself. “Some of them get too big for their britches. I oughta…I oughta…” But Mommy had no more threats. Even idle ones. “We’re back with Helen in the Morning,” the T.V. broadcast. Standing in front of the camera was an Amazon lady in a blue pantsuit with bleached teeth and an artificial tan. Weird that Amazons had perfected nanites that could simulate or relieve diaper rash but hadn’t figured out how to make a convincing tanning bed. “In light of recent news, we’ve rushed in a guest specialist to ask her what’s her opinion on so called current events.” The camera panned over to the big, eggshell white, overly cushy couch, the kind that only seemed to exist on morning talk shows. On it was an Amazon woman “With me today,” Helen prattled on, “is renowned Child and Little psychologist, Dr. Margaret Jameson. The so-called psychologist wore a yellow turtleneck sweater and jeans. She looked more like a Kindergarten teacher than a doctor. Amazons, however, sometimes had the privilege of being underdressed. “Dr. Jameson, what do you think of the current panic that’s being reported on?” The psychologist shrugged with practiced ease. “Well Helen, as we all know, Littles make up for their innate lack of maturity and reason with overactive imaginations. So it’s no surprise to me that Littles,” she paused for a drink of water from one of the show’s coffee mugs, “Littles who either have or are on the verge of full blown Maturosis but have yet to find Adoption are concocting these overly elaborate stories.” “So you think this is, what?” the talk show host asked, “Little propaganda?” The psychologist fake laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far, Helen. Propaganda is such a malicious word. Such a mean spirited one. It’s too…too…” “Grown-Up?” “Precisely,” the psychologist said. “This is all just a very silly joke that some very clever Littles with more creativity than sense cooked up.” “Excuse me!” A voice chirped in from the crowd. “I’ve got something to say!” The camera panned around to a Little boy standing on an audience chair. He was waving his hand and hopping up and down to be seen since the middle aged Amazon women in front of him were still taller than him despite being seated. This Little wasn’t one that was allowed to live as an adult, either. Unadopted Littles didn’t wear dalmatian spotted overalls that stopped at the knees. Nor did they tend to have such perfectly formed freckles on their cheeks. The boy could have been someone that Kyle had met on the playground. Heads turned and a collective. “Awwwwww!” reverberated through the studio audience. “It looks like we’ve got someone who wants to share with us,” Helen said. “Come on down, kiddo!” The invitation was met with thunderous applause and Helen got herself a photo op by climbing the stairs and carrying him down after the halfway point. When things had settled down, the Little boy stood in front of the couch, and the talk show host squatted down to hold a microphone to his mouth. “Well hello there!” The psychologist beamed like she was talking to a toddler. “What’s your name?” “My name is Maxwell MaGee, but my Mommy and Daddy call me Maxie and their last name is Sanders.” “Well, Maxie Sanders,” the psychologist said, “what would you like to say?” “I just wanted to let you know that Mommy and Daddy agree with everything you just said. They tell me that Littles are just babies that don’t grow up no matter how old we get.” “And are they right, Maxie?” “No,” the Little boy said sweetly. “They’re not. Amazons are the real babies. They’re just big babies who treat people smaller than them like baby dolls.” No scoffs came, just tittering laughter aimed at a child who didn’t know what he was talking about. Back in the cafe, Kyle looked down at himself. He fit that mold perfectly. For the first time in a long time he felt emotionally invested enough to feel ashamed of himself, for his state of dress. Carefully, Kyle unclipped the pacifier from his shirt and lowered it to the ground… “Really?” the psychologist said. “Do they change your diapers for you?” “Not any more!” Maxie said proudly. “I got to use the big boy potty! All by myself!” A third wave of ‘Awwwws’ bubbled up. “Your Mommy and Daddy let you go potty all by yourself?” Helen asked. Maxie paused and smiled deviously. “No.” Helen leaned in. “Where are your Mommy and Daddy, sweety pie?” “I dropped them off at daycare,” Maxie said with complete and utter seriousness. “They’re the ones in diapers now.” Kyle was beginning to think that this Little boy wasn’t a ‘Maxie’ as much as a ‘Maxwell’. Come to think of it, he looked a little thinner in the middle. It was hard to tell on camera, but he didn’t have that certain roundness between his legs that most Littles had. The psychologist crossed her legs, casually. “It sounds like someone has a very active imagination! Aren’t Littles the best? So cute! So precious! Always pretending to be more mature than they really are!” The laughter this time was more nervous than delighted or charmed. “It’s not pretend, Doctor.” the Little on T.V. said, snatching the microphone away from the talk show host. “It’s the truth. You’ve all been fibbing this whole time. We’ve all just finally figured out the truth.” “What truth?” the psychologist scoffed. “That Littles can’t be independent? That they need Amazons to take care of them? That they do this all for free and at no cost to the Littles?” The grin on the Little’s face became positively devilish. Like he knew a secret no one else did. “Oh really? Is that the truth as you see it? My, my, what a fantastic imagination!” Rumbles and grumbles were moving through the studio audience. Something was happening. “I think you were naughty and ran away from your Mommy and Daddy,” the psychologist said. “I think you’re telling fibs to make yourself feel bigger and more mature than you really are. Maybe we should call some real adults to get you back home where you belong.” She sniffed and smiled, “and get you changed. Someone had an accident.” No condescending laughter rang out this time. “Oh, I’m not the one who’s having an accident,” the Little on T.V. replied curtly. “Well of course you’d think that,” the Amazon replied. “Littles can never tell when they need changing. That’s kind of the point.” Kyle looked down at himself and gave himself a pat and a squeeze. Still dry. That was weird. He’d have half expected himself to be at least a little wet by now. The unsupervised Little on television closed his eyes and exhaled. When he opened them again, they narrowed, suspiciously. “Who’s checked you, Doctor Jameson?” he asked. “Why aren’t you wearing your diaper like a good girl?” “I don’t need them,” the woman who’d shown up for a T.V. interview in jeans, laughed. “Amazons don’t experience Maturosis, silly boy. Only Littles and the occasional Tweener.” There was a mean smile on the Little’s face. “Are you sure about that, cupcake? Uncross your legs.” “Hm?” The woman spread her legs out and looked down aghast at the spreading wet patch on the front of her denim pants. “Wha-? No!” The only thing the big woman had the presence of mind to do was stand up and let the puddle continue to stream down her thighs, dripping onto the studio floor. She was so humiliated she didn’t even have the presence of mind to cup her hands over her crotch or otherwise hide the sight of the very real, very public accident. Kyle could relate to that. That had been his face to a tee way back before his pants were padded full time. “Awwww,” the Little man cooed. “Is the big girl having a potty accident? You better have diapers in a bigger size than that, Helen.” “Th-th-th-” she stuttered. “This is not happening!” “Babies,” Maxwell crowed. “Such big imaginations they have. I hope you have some pretty big diapers backstage, Helen. You’re gonna need them.” The talk show host nearly dropped her mic. “Huh?” she grunted. “No! No-no-no! I’m not gonna…hnnng…I’m not changing her!” “I know,” the LIttle said. “But someone is going to need to change you. It wasn’t me your baby friend was sniffing” The camera switched angles to catch the lump forming in the back of Helen’s pantsuit skirt.. “You’re pooping, Helen. Right here. Right now. In front of everyone. You’re pooping.” Shocked screams exploded out from the Amazons in the studio. The host started to panic. “Uhh! Hrrnnn! We’re gonna take another commercial break but we’ll be right back! And in our next segment we’re gonna show you how to change a really big…baby’s…diaper..?” She blanched, not at what was going on in her pants, but at what she’d just said. “Hey! Why’s that on the teleprompter!? And who are you? You're not my producer!” The signal went black and the station switched over to an advertisement for Monkeez diapers, featuring a diapered Little pretending to play football with real Amazon toddlers… “This is ridiculous,” an Amazon woman said. Kyle looked back over to the counter. Two giantesses were pointing to their coffee cups, specifically the lids. “What’s the meaning of this?” “Those are safety lids,” the Tweener behind the counter smiled, courteously. “Coffee is very hot. You wouldn’t want it to spill all over you or it could burn and give you an owie.” The second Amazon at the counter scoffed. “We can’t remove the lids!” “It wouldn’t be very safe if you could, would it?” The Tweener made a shooing gesture and turned her back. “Drink your bean water, hun. Go on'' She looked at the next cup of coffee. “Kyle? Red eye for Kyle?” The two oversized Karens didn’t walk away. “They look like sippy cups!” The Tweener glanced at the lids and puckered her lips. “Huh. They kinda do.” She thought better of it right away. “I mean, no they don’t. Those are safety lids. And they’re only for special big girls just like you. Isn’t that neat?” A beat. “Kyle? I’ve got a red eye for Kyle!” “Mommy!” Kyle hissed. “That’s you.” Mommy rattled her head, breaking out of some kind of trance. Her eyes hadn’t left the television set since before it cut to commercial. ‘Huh? What?” She rubbed her eyes the way that people do when they’ve just woken up from a dream. “Oh yeah!” “Red eye? Kyle?” “Actually,” Mommy said. “That’s mine. Kyle’s my Little.” The Tweener brushed her hair back. “Oh yeah. Right. Just a sec.” She slapped a white plastic lid over the cup, same as with the other two ladies in front of her. Kyle did a quick, baffled scan of the room. Only the Amazons had the white plastic sippy lids on their cups. Everyone else drank their coffee like adults. Again, she leaned over the table. “Sorry about that sir.” “Uh..no problem?” Mommy started sipping her coffee through the lid without complaint. The two giantesses before her were also drinking from their definitely-not-sippy cups, just not without complaint. “Can you bewieve that mean ol’ Tweenuh?” “I know! We should tawk to the bossy boss!” “Yeah! Tell ‘em she’s bein’ a big ol’ meanie doo-doo head!” Something clicked upstairs in both Amazons at the same time. “Why awe you tawkin’ wike dat?” Her companion growled. “You duh one tawkin wike a baby!” “Nuh-uh!” “Uh-huh!” “Nuh-uh!” “Uh-...” Both stopped talking and gasped. Two puddles of warm pee were trickling down at their feet. One of them had more than just a puddle, with a solid lump sagging from the pack of her slacks. “Clean up!” The Tweener called. “Big babies had an accident in their pants!” She sighed in disgust. “Again!” A crew of Littles with mops zipped in and started wiping up the mess. Two more took each of them by the wrist and with impossible strength started to lead them towards the restroom. “Come on, baby girl,” the Little coffee shop worker cooed. “Let’s get you changed.” “Noooooo!” the Amzaon who had only wet her pants shrieked. “No baby! No baby! Nooooo baby!” “Let’s just get you taken care of, dear.” The two giants dug their heels in. It did nothing to slow their progress to the restrooms marked with helpful plaques indicating Baby/Little changing stations inside. Someone had put a strip of masking tape and written “Amazon” over the “Little” section in black marker. Pulling against the Littles, the one of them, the one who had done more than just pee her pants fell onto her backside. Her lip trembled for a second and then she started screaming, “NOOOOO! NO! NO BABY! NO BOOM BOOM! NO GOO GOO GA GA! NO BABY DIAPEE BOOM BOOM!” Her cohort couldn’t even say that much, her speech regressing to nothing more than repeated babbling syllables. “Gooo-goo-ag-ga-ag-ag-ag-gaaaa!” And the first wasn’t far behind. Within seconds, ‘Diapee’ and ‘boom boom’ would be too complex for their mouths to form. The Little employee patted the blubbering giant on the top of her hand as she dropped to her knees. “Of course you didn’t go boom boom in your diaper, sweet pea. You’re not wearing one. Let’s go fix that. Then you can finish your coffee.” The women crawled on three limbs the rest of the way to the lady’s room to be changed, her hand still being held. The Tweener behind the counter shook her head and Kyle heard her mutter. “Amazons. Seriously. Why can’t they just accept that they need help?” Mommy hurried herself and Kyle out of the store. Her red eye was dumped into the nearest potted plant. “This is not happening,” Mommy said. “This is not happening. This is just a dream. Only a dream.” Kyle felt her pat him on the top of his head. “Right baby?” Kyle didn’t answer. “Oh right. Babies don’t talk. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” The world whipped by at nearly breakneck speed. The “stroller” was now effectively a “sprinter”. Kyle turned his head this way and that. All around him he caught familiar scenes cast with different players. “I’m not a baby!” “Uh oh. Big girl isn’t so big!” “Come here honey. You’re going to look so adorable with a shave and a sailor suit.” “Why do Amazons even bother trying to grow up? They’re just going to fail anyway. Much easier for everyone involved if they just find a nice Little Mommy or Daddy to take care of their mush tushes.” Every line, every condescending taunt, every cooing syllable, had the sweet acidity of someone delivering the world’s cruelest joke. The pounding of Mommy’s shoes sputtered and then changed to the slapping of her bare feet. “Gotta get to the daycare! Gotta get to the daycare!” Poor thing had lost her shoes. “We’ll just get you to daycare, and I’ll go to work and everything will be okay!” A devilish grin flashed across Kyle’s mug. “Mommy? Did you lose your shoes? Maybe you should switch to velcro!” “Baby!” Mommy barked. “Not now!” Kyle tittered with laughter anyways, suddenly much less afraid. Mommy was panting when they ran up to the daycare. She shuffled around to the front of the stroller, diaper bag slung over her shoulder, and unbuckled Kyle from his restraints. “Come on, Kyle,” she panted, “Let’s get you settled in and Mommy will-” The front door to the daycare burst open. “Don’t! A daycare worker screamed out. Run! Save yourself!” Mommy froze. Kyle gawked. Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t just an employee, but the proprietor of the daycare itself. Neither Kyle nor Mommy recognized her at first glance. How could they? Her graying hair was up in pigtails. Her face was covered in stickers. Her arms were scribbled on in markers. A giant, obviously wet diaper, was taped to her hips and hung between her thighs. She was missing her glasses too. If not for the daycare’s signature polo shirt uniform that she always wore she might have been completely unrecognizable. “Leave!” The woman screamed. “Before it’s too late!” Behind her, more crying and protests of ‘I’m not the baby! I’m your Mommy!” bled out into the open air. Kyle looked around the daycare’s parking lot. There weren’t usually that many cars here at one time. Amazons would just drop off their Littles and leave. “I’m an adult! A grown-up! A big girl! A biiiiiiig girrrrl!” They weren’t leaving… “They’re making us finger paint!” Mrs. Abernathy cried, her tears wetting the sunshine smiley stickers on her cheeks. “Finger paint!” “There you are, Michelle!” A Little woman, dressed like an employee came out and grabbed Mrs. Abernathy by the hand. “I can’t take my eyes off of you for a second, can I missy?” “Please…” Mrs. Abernathy sniffled. “Don’t do this to me.” “You’ll feel much better after a change. Then we’ll film you playing with all of your Amazon friends and you’ll be so cute you’ll get Adopted into a good Little home in no time.” Mrs. Abernathy started bawling beyond words. The Little finally seemed to notice Kyle and Mommy. “Oh sorry about that. You know how it is.” She was talking to Kyle and only to Kyle. “Are you checking her in?” Mommy let out a wordless scream and ran away with Kyle in her arms, cackling with abandon! Normally, if he laughed this hard he’d expect his pants to be wet but his diaper was still as dry as a bone. The juice wasn’t going through him. “Careful, baby!” Random passerby called after Mommy. “Uh oh.” “Someone needs a timeout.” “She is going to get such a spanking when this is over…” “Don’t you be like that one, Pamela. You suck your binkie like a good big baby.” In the distance, a billboard was being papered over. It was still a diaper ad, but the drooling, toothless models were no longer Littles. Traffic was at a standstill; Amazons were being strapped into newly enlarged car seats, gagged with pacifiers and diapers splaying their legs apart. Littles were busily installing booster pedals and seats so that they could drive. Amazons moaned and cried out from top of the line remote controlled carriages, piloted by Mommies and Daddies much much smaller than them. “Why?” Mommy panted. “Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” She tripped over something. Only soft grass broke her and Kyle’s fall. “Whyyyyyy?!” “Because you deserve it.” Kyle answered. He stood up and brushed the freshly mowed grass clipping off of his thighs. Mommy had managed to make it all the way back to the park before breaking down. “Because you deserve it.” Repeating his damning accusation with a cold relishing” He toddled over to the diaper bag and dug out a pair of shorts. Deftly, he slid them up over his hips, covering the diaper. Then, he reached into his pants and pulled the sticky tabs loose, ripping the diaper off of him while keeping his modesty intact. “No!” Mommy slammed her fist into the ground. “No! This isn’t supposed to happen this way! I’m the adult! I’m the Mommy! I’m the big girl!” She stood up. “Susan!” Kyle exclaimed. It felt amazing calling her by her first name. “Are your pants wet?” There was no puddle beneath her. She looked down at herself and her face melted. “Yes, Kyle…” “Do big girls go pee-pee in their pants?” “No, Kyle…” “Did you know you went pee-pee in your pants?” “N…” she stopped herself. “Yes, Kyle.” “Why didn’t you stop and tell Daddy that you had an accident?” He felt himself stand a bit taller, a bit stronger calling himself ‘Daddy.’ Susan looked ashamed. “I was busy…running.” “Playing you mean?” “Yes, Kyle…” “What?” “Yes…Daddy.” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” “No, Daddy.” Kyle walked around her and inspected the back of her pants. Goodness it felt amazing to be able to take a step without hearing the soft plastic crinkle coming from behind him. A quick breeze carried the fetid scent of what Susan had done to herself. “Susie! Are your pants messy” “Yes, Daddy.” “What?” Susie stuck her thumb in her mouth. “Yesh, Daddy.” “Do big girls go poopy in their pants?” “No, Daddy.” “Did you know you’d had an accident.” “Yesh, Daddy.” “Then why didn’t you tell Daddy you had an accident? “I wush pwayin’...” “That doesn’t sound very mature, does it?” Susie, formerly Mommy, was quivering. “No, Daddy.” He walked back around and bid her come closer to the ground so that she could look him in the eyes. “Amazons,” he said once she was crawling on all fours. “What would you do without us?” Susie just softly cried. “What happens to big girls who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?” Kyle asked. Time to finish her programing. “They get shpankt” Susie mumbled. “What happens to babies who go pee-pee and poopy in their pants?’ Susie winced like she’d just been slapped in the face, or more likely, just bitten her thumb. Then said, “They gesh a diapher chahshe.” “Why?” “Cush dere Daddiesh wuf dem.” Kyle patted her on the head and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “That’s right.” He went back over to the diaper bag and pulled out the changing mat. It was big enough to fit even an Amazon. Kyle thought nothing of it. “Lay down.” Susie popped her thumb out of her mouth “Here? Now” “Your panties were clean when we left the house, young lady.” Kyle said. “That means you had your accident out here in public in front of all your Amazon friends. If you can go in your pants, in public you can get cleaned up in public.” Weeping, Susie crawled over to the changing mat and layed down. Kyle reached his hand into the bag and pulled out the perfect diaper. Just like what he used to wear, but sized for a very, very, big baby. “Ooops!” he said. “Daddy almost forgot!” He slapped his forehead. “Silly Daddy!” He took out the pack of baby wipes. “Before I put you all nice and cozy in your diaper I’ve gotta clean up your accident.” That got a mumbled moan of despair from around the Amazon’s thumb. Kyle put the wipes down by Susie’s knees and bent over Susie’s waist, deftly unbuttoning her pants for her. She didn’t have any snaps, so it was nothing at all for his tiny fingers to unfasten the big buttons and unzip her pants for her. In the near future, he’d make sure to get her a proper onesie; one with strong little sized buttons that big clumsy baby Amazon fingers wouldn’t be able to manipulate. It wouldn’t do to have a baby try to go streaking, or worse yet, dress like a big girl. Using leverage and just a tiny bit of effort, Kyle pushed her knees up to her stomach. “Hold it for me,” he instructed. Obediently, his former Mommy did. “Good girl.” He yanked the pants off her hips, followed by her soiled, filthy panties. Susie’s mewling cries doubled over as she felt the sick mess pull away from her delicate skin. “I know, I know.” Kyle shushed. “It doesn’t feel good to have an accident in your big girl undies. That’s why you shouldn’t be wearing them.” Without him having to tell her, she lowered her legs and outstretched them so that he could take her shoes and socks off followed by her soiled pants and undergarments. They were left in a pile in the grass. He’d pick them up later after he got Susie sorted out. “You’ll feel much better in a nice clean diaper,” he promised. It was a lie, of course, or rather a half truth. Clean diapers only felt good in comparison because dirty diapers happened, and one inevitably led to another. More importantly, diapering her made clean up easier when he wouldn’t have to slide the soiled padding all the way off Susie’s ankles. One step at a time, though… “Okay. Lift one more time for Daddy.” He instructed. “Good girl.” Wipe after wipe, Tommy started cleaning her bottom. Taking extra care to wipe the laminated mat that had become stained with her feces. A diaper would definitely help this in the future. “Gotta wipe the baby nice and clean,” he told her. “And get rid of her mess.” Susie was taking it rather well. She was only quietly crying now, resigned to her fate. Just as he had been once upon a time. Time for the piece de resistance. With both hands he unfolded the giant diaper. Had it been on him, it would have dwarfed him, coming up to his armpits and being too baggy. On her though, it would be just right. Not wanting to make a rookie mistake, he eyed the tapes and slid the diaper the right way under his new charge’s elevated bottom. “Okay…” he said. Susie lowered her hips. A second round of wipes was taken to Susie’s front side. He wasn’t going to let her get a rash because he was more focused on the solid waste and forget about the glistening droplets of urine clinging to her pubic area. “We’re going to have to get rid of all this big girl hair later,” he tutted. “Mo…” Susie mumbled. “Non’t” “Are you a big girl?” Kyle asked. Susie remained silent, sucking her thumb. “Exactly. Don’t worry though. We’ll take care of that later tonight using the special shampoos you keep under the sink.” Susie sometimes threatened to make Kyle a bald baby if he misbehaved. Now the bootie was on the other foot. Oh she’d look adorable in just a diaper, bonnet, and booties! A note for later! Leaving her waiting on the open diaper, Kyle backtracked to the diaper bag one last time. “Let’s help the baby smell nice and clean.” He said. The cloud of powder he dusted her with was enormous. “Will definitely need to get rid of that big girl hair though…” Finally, enjoying it, saving the moment, he pulled the diaper up between Susie’s spread thighs, making sure to center the front and pull it taut so it tucked neatly into the back as he taped the first side. A quick scramble over to the other side so he could tape it nice and snug, completing her well deserved and much needed reduction of status. He panted lighty and proclaimed her “Done!” He wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. Taking care of big babies really was hard work, but it certainly was rewarding. Susie tried to sit up, but the sheer mass of the plastic backed padding gave her difficulty. Kyle’s firm and steady hand touched her shoulder and guided her back down to the grass. “Not yet, Susie,” he told her. “Not yet.” One final trip to the diaper bag yielded a very big baby bottle, filled with nice cold milk. Confident and satisfied, Kyle strode over to the Amazon’s head and made her lift it so that he could position his legs underneath them. “Here you go,” he offered her the bottle. “Drink up.” She did, her lips puckering and suckling on the rubber teat. “Good girl,” he said. “Drink up. Make it all gone.” The stuff in that bottle, he knew, would make her a very good girl and ensure that she didn’t need those pesky big girl panties for as long as the stuff was in her system. She’d get used to sitting and nursing and playing in a wet diaper soon enough. Messy diapers would follow. Kyle was just helping things along. Content at last, Kyle closed his eyes and breathed in his moment of victory. “I get it, now.” He said to himself. “I really get it.” There in the darkness behind his closed eyes, Kyle sighed luxuriously as his new big baby suckled on her bottle, (the first of many) and shifted and crinkled in her diaper (the first of many). Slowly, the darkness swirled into mist, as darkness does between dreams, and the scene faded from Kyle’s mind’s eye if not his memory. The sound of Susie sucking on her ba-ba yet lingered. Slowly, very slowly, his brain wishing for sleep that his body no longer required, Kyle’s eyes opened. Just past the Little boy’s nose was his balled up fist. The sound of sucking that had stuck with him had been him suckling on his own thumb. Just a dream. But, oh, what a dream! A slight creaking of floorboards and hinges, and the door to Kyle’s nursery opened and Mommy’s voice sang out. “Wakey wakey!” She said, “Did my baby boy enjoy his afternoon nap?” A petite yawn later, and Kyle slowly sat back up in his crib. The afternoon sun shone past the thin pastel blue curtains of his babified bedroom. The feeling of his soaked diaper squishing beneath his weight was a gentle reminder that he was back in the real world. His mouth hadn’t quite caught up to his brain, however. “Huh? Wha? Susie?” Mommy cocked an eyebrow. He hadn’t even thought of her as anything other than ‘Mommy’ for a long time. She’d broken him of that habit a long long time ago; or so they both had thought. “What was that?” Kyle’s mind went into overdrive as unconscious and conscious thoughts traded places and memory of the real world kicked into high gear. The soaking wet diaper between his legs helped. He’d been laid down clean and dry. “Sorry Mommy. I was having a dream.” Mommy approached the crib and picked him up. “About what?” “A girl at my daycare,” he lied. Kyle was soon plopped on the changing table, which was a much better place than over Mommy’s knee. “Oh.” Mommy said. “That makes sense.” She undid the tapes on his diaper and started wiping him. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to see all your Little friends and Mrs. Abernathy at daycare tomorrow.” Kyle started sucking his thumb. “Yesh, Mommy.” He couldn’t help but smile. Wow! What a dream. It was just a dream, but it was a really nice dream. One that made the Little boy both a tiny bit sad, and very very happy. “I love you, baby boy.” “Yesh, Mommy.” Kyle lied through his teeth and over his thumb. “I love you too.” He’d be holding onto the image of Susie crying and laying down to get her diaper changed like a big dumb baby for as long as he lived. Even as a dream, it was better than nothing. If he could, he’d tell all the other kids at daycare tomorrow… (The End)

Husni looked up at the beaming face of her new Mommy and smiled back. "Cuddle!" she demanded, reaching out with her arms. Natalia couldn't resist and picked little Husni up, embracing her in a tight hug that kept going long after they'd entered the cafe. "You're just so adorable!" gushed Natalia, "I'm so lucky we found each other." Husni nestled her head against the Amazon's muscular arm but didn't reply, just enjoying the warmth and security she was feeling. They'd met literally that morning but their instant rapport, the ease with which they both adopted their new roles was entirely predictable. Indeed, the Little Portal Group were rapidly gaining a tremendous reputation entirely because of the AI algorithms that matched littles with prospective parents. It wasn't that Husni had any issues she was escaping. She just recognised the benefits and opportunities of a life of carefree abandon, someone else seeing to her every need, the chance to be loved and cherished and avoid the big decisions adult life forced upon her. Natalia would have also said she had no issues in her life, and perhaps even believed that. Indeed, had two of her friends not become mothers in the past few weeks her issues would all have been extremely mundane. Those friends gaining their first maternal experiences - one through adoption of a little, the other an actual pregnancy and childbirth - had however caused an irrevocable descent into broody desire, almost forcing Natalia into action. She'd signed up to with the Little Portal Group, wanting to take on a little that had chosen a life of dependency rather than kidnap or force a native little into a role they really didn't want, even if it was for their own good. A difficult ethical dilemna but Natalia had gone with her heart and her innate sense of fair play, and the result had been a match with Husni. The trip through the portal had been strange for Husni but not difficult, and she'd recovered quickly, marvelling at the size of the Amazons around her and how vulnerable she felt in their presence. Then Natalia had entered the room, been introduced and Husni had instantly relaxed, an instinctive perception that this was someone she could trust, be safe with. Even the inevitable first diaper had been easy. Natalia had practiced beforehand, made the experience swift and painless, treating it as a normal part of caring for, dressing and preparing Husni for the day. Husni in turn barely registered its role, the diaper not standing out against the other new clothes in which she was garbed. The matching onesie and pinafore dress were adorable and infantile, which her subconscious entirely accepted without complaint given her diminutative stature besides the Amazons around her. "She's just darling," one of them had said, with noises of agreement and appreciation from the rest of the group. "She certainly is," was Natalia's response, before thanking the Little Portal Group team and heading out into the city. "I know you want to see your new home," Natalia said to Husni as she pushed the stroller through the city, "but I haven't had breakfast yet so I thought we'd stop at a cafe on the way." Husni had smiled up at her new Mommy. These decisions were no longer hers to make and she relaxed into the freedom of just accepting what was happening around her while looking around with interest and amazement. All the cars were different, the people walking around so unbelievably large, some of them pushing a stroller just like the one she was sat in. Those contained people her size, some of them looking like pudgy child versions of the Amazons, others clearly already adult themselves but the same size, treated just like the children. Like herself. That reassured her, confirmed that she hadn't turned herself into a circus freak. Adult littles really were treated like toddlers here, kept in diapers, pushed around in strollers, dressed in cute clothes. The fascination with the world around her kept Husni distracted until they reached the cafe, and the first real chance for a cuddle. It was everything she'd anticipated, hoped for. It was everything Natalia had wanted, needed. The waitress broke the spell, drew them both back to the present. Natalia handled the questions and placed the orders, making it clear who in the relationship had control, was the decision maker. The waitress hadn't assumed anything different but Husni found it strange, not used to being a passive presence while the others around her discussed and made choices on her behalf. As though she were a child and they were adults. Husni realised that was exactly the relationship and looked up at Natalia. "I think I might love you," she said, surprised by the depth of emotion she was feeling. Natalia melted within at that, but tried to hide it from her new child. "I do love you," she said, then had to hide her own surprise that she hadn't lied, hadn't exaggerated. Somehow in just a couple of hours she'd bonded entirely with her adopted daughter, already felt that maternal need to always be there, always protect and support her child. That emotional connection survived through to food arriving. It didn't end then, the arrival of breakfast just forcing other considerations into focus. Hunger, for both of them, and the new experience of being fed; of feeding. That proved straightforward, a bottle full of warm milk easy for Natalia to offer, one arm cradling Husni and letting her use her own hands to hold it in place as she suckled. That freed Natalia's other arm, scrambled egg easy to scoop one-handed with a fork, toast eaten with fingers, offered and shared with Husni as she took a break from the bottle. The eye contact between them had to end eventually but it was a jarring interruption, loud exclamations and performance enthusiasm. Ursula had been Natalia's friend for many years and they regularly caught up for dinner or attended the same parties. Natalia hadn't yet broadcast her adoption though so Ursula had all the surprise and delight of a friend that wanted to show support and celebrate. "Is she yours?" she asked, "She's just adorable! What's her name? When did you get her? Oh, you're so.. oh!" Emotions overwhelmed Ursula, finally halting the continuous loud stream of enthusiasm. "Husni is my daughter," confirmed Natalia proudly, "She arrived just this morning - we haven't even been home yet, we popped in here for breakfast on the way back. What brings you here? I hadn't expected to meet anyone!" Ursula had explained the cafe's proximity to where she worked, the opportunity to enjoy a nice coffee while getting out of the office mid-morning, then returned the conversation to Husni. In the meantime Natalia busied herself putting Husni into the provided high-chair, using the straps to hold her in position, her inexperience as a mother making her take longer with the basic task while also going overboard with the restraints. She didn't want her new baby put at risk! Husni had found this all a shock. One moment being fed by her new Mommy, now she was being strapped into a chair, no physical contact, not part of the conversation even when she was the subject of it. "Mommy?" she said, the question inherent in her tone. "Hush baby," said Natalia, "Mommy's friend wants to know all about you. Sit there and be a good girl while I tell her how wonderful you are." Husni didn't appreciate this. "I can tell her," she said, "and we can still cuddle while you talk." "Oh, isn't she just adorable," said Ursula, "You're so lucky to have found one that wants to engage." Natalia nodded, understanding and appreciating the compliment. "You're right, I can't believe I found her," she said, "but she does need to learn that she can't be the centre of attention all the time." Natalia reached into her bag and pulled out a pacifier. For Amazon children it was a perfect size, which also made it ideal for adult littles, as Husni immediately discovered when Natalia pushed it into her mouth. She spat it out. "No!", she said firmly, perhaps a little loudly, "I'm not.." Ursula never learned what Husni was not, as Natalia used the open complaining mouth as an opportunity to put the pacifier back in. This time she twisted something on its front and Husni discovered that she could no longer spit it out, stop it quelling her complaints. "Be a good girl," admonished Natalia, "and we can talk later and I'll give you a big cuddle and then a nice warm bath for you to soak in." That did sound good but Husni hadn't yet adjusted to her new role in society. She did have feelings for Natalia, was already accepting her loss of decision making, but this felt a step too far, too soon. She reached up and tried to work out how to release the pacifier. Ursula laughed at that. "Oh, isn't she cute. Such a little rebel. You're going to have your hands full here." Natalia grinned at her friend. "You might be right," she accepted, "but gorgeous baby girls need to know how to behave." She reached over to Husni in the high-chair and gently but firmly took one of her arms, drawing it down to her legs and using a soft padded strap to hold it in place. The high-chair had been designed for littles, for keeping them secure not only from accidentally falling out but also from resisting the control their adopters legally imposed upon them. The second arm was swiftly secured, and Natalia contemplated fastening Husni's legs too. "I'll let her kick," she said to Ursula, "She'll get tired but the physical release might be what she needs." Ursula verbally gushed her admiration for Natalia's consideration, the two of them talking together and barely paying intention to Husni. It meant they missed Husni's chest convulsions as the pacifier triggered her gag reflex, induced vomitting. Husni kicked her legs in desperation, tried screaming for help, her arms tugging futilely against the unrelenting restraints. "Aww, look, she's having a tantrum." The Amazons finally noticed Husni's distress and reached across the table to each other, sharing a moment of adult unanimity. "She's still so cute when she's like this," admitted Natalia, "but I don't want to cause her distress. She just needs to learn that she can't be the centre of attention all the time." "You're so right," said Ursula, "You're going to make a marvellous Mommy. She's so lucky she has you." Natalia remembered that, forty minutes later, the paramedics telling her it was too late, all over, that her little had choked to death on her own vomit. Husni would never again be the centre of attention, had completely escaped the stresses of adult life, would forever be loved for who she was. Who she had been. Such a lucky little.

So I have been working on this for some time now and am currently working on the sixth chapter at the time of posting this here. If y'all want more please lemme know and help hold me to it on finishing writing this...I don't wanna make yet another unfinished story so...Imma do my best when I have free time! ?? Many many many thanks to the folks that have been reading ahead and helping provide feedback so far, I hope to learn more from the rest of y'all as my first story so...Enjoy! This story is a fan-fiction of the Diaper Dimension universe, heavily inspired by the story "Done Adulting" by Alex Bridges. I wondered what the story might have been like, had the applicant been a married trans woman, rather than single, and if she had already her mind set on being a Little rather than being completely oblivious to what she was getting into. CONTENT WARNING: While this story is meant to be a sweet and sentimental story, it can be very raw and includes the themes of: Family trauma / Rejection Divorce / Separation Questioning Reality / Derealization Existential horror Chapter 1: The Confession "So, you are currently married, Kate, is that correct?" Ms Clarke leaned back into her office chair, tilting her head and putting on a professional smile as her client delayed responding. Now was time for the meat of the interview. Shifting uncomfortably, the meek woman attempted to hide in the squeaky chair across her desk. "Y--Yes. Yes I still am, as it says on the form." Kate kept her eyes glued to the colorful office carpet, despondent yet nervous. "So how has he taken it? I can see here that you are applying for adoption in Tulna alone?" Ms Clarke watched as she squeezed her arm nervously. This wasn't her first married client--as rare as they were--and she recognized that look of guilt and fear well enough. But, she had to ask. "You aren't in danger, are you Kate? That's not why you're here, is it?" "N-no!" Kate recoiled, like she'd ladled disgusting slop onto her lunch tray. "He'd never!" "No worries, dear, just had to ask. So, tell me about your husband. And most importantly, you." Kate let out a long breath and began, "So we love each other, I want to make that clear. Crystal clear...He's the best man I've ever known." She looked across the desk for approval before continuing. "We've been together since ... well, far before the portals opened. We met over the silliest things in college, really" she smiled gently, "Gosh we were so different then. I was so different then. So closed up... "College was an escape. My family, they...when they found out I was what was called an 'abdl' back then..." Her face darkened as her gaze wandered to the floor, "...they thought I was a p...a ped..."--her voice became sharp, angry--"...a freak. An addict. A criminal." "But all I wanted was to be treated like a kid again. Play, be loved. Held. It wasn't even a sexual feeling, it was just...But all they saw was a freak that needed to be cured, when what I most needed was their love and understanding. The brainwashing nearly destroyed me, or...well, I nearly did that to myself." Kate closed her eyes and exhaled. "So when I left for college, I had a chance to find that love and understanding I desperately needed. To heal. And I met him, Bryce." She sat up and smoothed out her skirt, her smile warm but eyes sad. "He accepted my 'little' side, helped me feel loved, helped me begin to heal and discover myself--I even transitioned! There was only so much we--I--could do, but with therapy and time, eventually I learned to recognize the abuse I grew up with and to find small ways to carve out a portion of this world for myself and heal. I learned how to keep all pieces of myself...happy!...And we began to build our lives together." "Mmhmm, mmhmm," Ms Clarke nodded and shuffled through the papers, "You wrote in here about getting your depression and anxiety under control for quite some time after all that...Got into calisthenics...Opened up more at home...Stopped medication, aside from hormones?" "Yeah! It was still challenging but the strategy was simple: dig as much into what I could do, and accept the rest was just fantasy. For example, there was no playground I could play on as an adult--but, I could exercise on gym monkeybars, climb things, run and skip. And sometimes we could go to water parks for the rest, like slides! And at home, we could enact private scenes together...and while there were some boundaries we couldn't cross, like diaper changes, I felt grateful he did so much despite not being into any of it himself." Ms Clarke leaned forward thoughtfully, curious and admittedly a bit surprised. Her married clients usually had clear issues, abuse, and the Little was already on their way out the door. But this couple...there were no obvious problems. "But I thought," Kate continued, "I thought I could tolerate, live, a life like this. And for a long time, I did. I even got off my meds! I was so proud of how far I'd come, how much I'd grown." "But then the portals appeared?" "Right..." She stared off into the distance, caught in a memory. "I didn't believe it. I thought it was some alternate reality art experiment...or prank...or...anything but real. I stuck my head in the sand and pretended, insisted, that it was all still fantasy. But...news websites reported on it, tourist flyers appeared in the mail... "I saw an interview, some Big's take on an attempted kidnapping in Itali. She dwarfed the Little in her arms, towered over the earth reporter, and...in the background there was...a playground, bustling with Littles and Bigs sharing their lives together and...It finally all crashed over me. "And suddenly, " Kate returned her gaze to Ms Clarke, "Suddenly I couldn't cope anymore. My life felt like fantasy! I was kidding myself, thinking that exercising on black monkeybars in a cold gray gym blasting 'bang me' music was anything like a playground when the real thing was actually right fucking there, in plain sight!" Ms. Clarke nodded solemnly, like a priest at confession. She hadn't lost touch with how difficult admitting these truths were to her clients. The bombshell was about to drop. Kate held her head in her arms, and took several breaths. "And worst of all...I began to feel like I was kidding myself thinking that what we had built together would really keep me happy. Why...why pretend when...? But...We'd worked so hard at this together, for so long. I tried to push through it, I denied things had changed, even as I saw the hesitation and fear in his eyes, even as I felt like a freak, even as I returned to meds. Again." Sitting up with watery eyes gazing to the ceiling, to the sky beyond it, Kate continued. "I've felt just so awful for so long now! I can't maintain this facade anymore. We have a life together, and I'm so so SO grateful for all of that! But I can't ... I can't pretend it's not killing me inside...! The moment I realized I could actually...live...that life," she gestured at the photographs adorning the office, "I couldn't picture my life here anymore...I couldn't picture our life together a-anymore." At that, Kate lost her composure and hiccups escaped her trembling lips. Ms Clarke pushed a box of tissues forward and sighed. On the walls behind her desk were photographs of scenery in Tulna. Cobblestone streets, shops, and parks all bustling with people from all walks of life--commuters on bikes, college students, retirees, parents. It would have been easy to mistake the scenery for any other European college town, were it not for the portraits of happy adoptees and their 13-foot-tall parents. "And here I am", she continued, wiping her eyes and sniffling, "and I don't even know if I even qualify for any of this. And you probably think I'm some freak for being here, some fetishist and entitled...bitch...for wanting to leave my...my...I mean, it's not perfect, but it's a lot better than most. I have a great job, we've loved each other for so long, we've been a team through thick and thin, and I've coped before so why not just soldier through and cope some more, right? I must look like the most untitled...most ungrateful...bitch...to leave this life behind and choose to live with ...with monsters ... all for some ...some fetishistic kick?" "Kate" shaking, she raised her bloodshot eyes, "do you really feel that way? That these people are monsters? That this is all just some fetish?" Kate sniffled and wiped her face on her sleeves. "N...No. I just...that's how it's got to look to everyone else, right? You SEE the kidnappings, you KNOW what the...what their kind have done in the non-Alliance countries. It's horrible. And then there's all these people that get their kicks wearing diapers here...and I...it's no fault to them, and I've been around that community enough to know they're all such ... such awesome and caring people...But...But even before the portals I knew that's not what most people saw. They saw fucking p--...fucking freaks. And here I am wanting to live that life, in that world, to leave all this behind. "So it doesn't matter if they're an Alliance country. It doesn't matter what good they do...It doesn't matter how I feel, it doesn't that it has always been more than just some fucking kick to me...I'm just...I'm just a monster to everyone else. I'm a greedy, selfish, undeserving monster." Ms Clarke let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding in, and Kate settled back into her chair, exhausted. Now she understood why maybe these clients were so rare; they had to take a leap of faith, at the cost of uprooting not just their lives but their families, at a time when living life as a Little was synonymous with slavery for many. But not all. It wasn't as black and white as Kate believed, especially not in places like Tulna. "Kate," she walked around her desk and knelt in front of her "You are very brave for coming here, okay?" She laid her hand gently on her shoulder "And you are not a monster. Can you believe that for me?" Kate nodded her head and brushed the hair out of her face. "Would you like a hug, Kate?" "Yes" And for a moment the two stood embracing. Gradually, the outside world slowly washed in as Kate's breathing returned to normal, filling their ears with muffled voices, ringing phones, shuffling papers and footsteps. Song birds outside the window, chirping their repetitive soothing songs, were joined by bike bells and pre-recorded messages on bus transit. Delicately, they separated and returned to their places at the desk. "So, have your husband and you stayed together? You haven't divorced yet, is that correct?" "Yes...We weren't sure what to do. We didn't want to separate in case I didn't qualify." "But it sounds to me like he is willing to let you go?" Kate nodded bitterly, "Yes." "Staying together for now was a smart and completely understandable decision, Kate. But, you are correct about the terms of adoption; eventually, you will need to separate--at least legally. Mind you, this is true regardless of him joining you in Tulna or not, say as an independent Little. Has he considered that possibility, or--?" "No. No, he...He has wanted only to visit at most; he couldn't move on if he knew I was around the corner like that." "Understandable. In that case, we won't need him to come in for a citizenship interview unless he changes his mind. For now, just know we'll evaluate your application under the assumption that you are each living independently; with him in possession of your home or renting alone. You should discuss this together, but as this would be a big change for the both of you, we do recommend waiting until the decision is made before you take those big steps together, okay?" Kate simply nodded, internally feeling equal amounts dread and relief. "But," she continued, leaning forwards, "if you are accepted please be aware it will be contingent on your separation. Staying together, legally-speaking, presents too many issues both here and in Tulna with the adoption process. We have a legal team that will help you draft the petition terms, however you will both need to agree to and enact them before this can proceed any further. No Adoption Preferences forms, no listing, no nothing until that is completed. Is that understood?" "Yes." The rest of the interview concluded question-answer style about mundane details such as housing, loans, etc. Kate had been relatively responsible (and admittedly lucky) financially; software paid well, and living together split living expenses; any debts she'd had had been paid off years ago. Before they wrapped up, Ms Clarke asked if she had any more questions. "Yeah...uhm...I wanted to know...I often hear lots of Littles end up becoming a bit more sedentary and such...with being carried around and all that...? While I started exercise here and have kept it up mostly, I...It'd feel good if I could take that with me. Continue at it? Will the Bigs allow that?" "I can't make any guarantees, Kate, the interpretation of your target age would be up to the adoptive Big or Bigs. But, I can make a special note for you in your file. There are certainly Bigs out there as active as you, and it's not unheard of to enroll in parent-child gymnastics classes together." "Thanks, I would love that." Kate stood up. "And...thank you. Sorry for the blubbering and all that I...Just, thank you for taking the time to meet with me and...listen to me." Ms Clarke extended her hand and Kate shook it, "The pleasure is mine, no need to feel sorry. This is an emotional time, and you're not the first to find their feelings bubbling to the surface in my office. You'll expect to hear from us in a few weeks, up to a month. Until then, take care, Kate." And with that, her client turned and left. After a breath and sip of coffee, she took notes on their meeting: Kate is a very physically active, smart, and highly-functioning but anxious girl in her 30s...history of depression, anxiety, and complex PTSD...controlled with medication and exercise...but likely lingering attachment issues and trauma from her upbringing...trans, could benefit from medical interventions...admits to already acting on Little feelings...adamantly not a fetishist...anticipate adapting quickly...must separate from her husband...will be difficult for them, but he supports her decision...would pair best with a supportive, active couple...learn to listen to her own needs...overall excellent candidate, will make their lucky Big(s) feel very happy and loved. =============== "Hellooo?" Kate called out, as she hung up her coat and removed her shoes. Silently, Bryce appeared in the doorway. "Hey" "Hey..." Like the moment before separating at a train station, they both stood there for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Kate spoke up. "I'm sorry, I--" He interrupted Kate with a hug. "I love you so much, Kate. I...I..." "M-Me too..!...B-B-Bry--" And together they embraced, crying in each other's arms. They were at the station now, waiting for the train to come. It didn't matter that this train could be cancelled, or delayed, there would always be another behind it. And for the first time, it felt like they could finally acknowledge it--for the first time, they could finally begin to say goodbye

Before you read Disclaimer: This story takes place in the Diaper Dimension created by PrincessPottyPants. Consent is important in this story. Therefore, this is NOT a forced regression story. I find the DD a bit too harsh, so I'm thinking of making a few small changes to better suit my personal preferences. This story will feature the usage of diapers (wetting and messing), breastfeeding and other adult baby content. There will be no physical violence or abuse depicted in this story. This means that there will be no spankings! As this is still the DD, Littles are not treated fairly. If that's not something you're interested in I would advise you to take a pass on this work. This is my first story here on Dailydiapers and I am not a native English speaker. Therefore, feedback is appreciated (There is a full synopsis and concept for this story in the "Critiques and Writer's Discussion" sub-forum. Be warned that over there are spoilers, so be careful). I cannot guarantee that I will implement all suggestions though. I hope you enjoy the story! Introducing Sophia Sophia is a 22-year-old Little, living in the Diaper Dimension. She has green eyes and long black hair, going a little past her shoulders. She is living in a special apartment complex for Littles, where everything is built with their height in mind. It is a safe environment protected by law and owned by a Little, who cares for the complex. Sophia works as an author and is writing one of her novels right now. The novel is about a Little with success in live, living a happy live with no dangers of Amazon society. In her novel Littles have a lot more rights that protect them and her protagonist is well respected even by the much bigger Amazons. This is only one of the novels she wrote thus far. Her previous work was about living with an Amazon in harmony. Nearly as an equal partner, respecting one another. Her main audience are other Littles, but also some rare Amazons, which care more about Littles as persons then babies. While working at her PC, she drinks some coffee. She knows that she needs to go shopping soon and saves her progress after finishing the current chapter. Turning off the PC she goes over to her wardrobe and prepares for the shopping trip. Sophia takes off her pants and then her underwear before grabbing a pull up and sliding it on. Wearing protection is highly recommended for Littles, as an accident with insufficient protection nullifies any protection a Little has of being adopted by an Amazon. Since Littles have trouble controlling their bladder under stress, it is significantly safer to wear a pull up. Over the pull up goes the pants again, hiding them nearly completely. Well prepared Sophia grabs some bags and makes her way to the supermarket nearby. It’s quite close to her apartment so she decides to walk. On the way she sees some other Littles, which live nearby, which she greets friendly. In addition, there are also giants on the sidewalks. Since they move much faster on foot, the sidewalk is divided into two parts. One line for Littles and another for Amazons. On the way she watches with dread an Amazon woman with a stroller, going in the other direction. A Little is inside the stroller, wearing a thick diaper and a frilly dress, with a pacifier inside his mouth, suckling on it without a care in the world. Sophia smells the poppy scent left behind before the wind takes it away. This is the fate of Littles which are adopted by Amazons, she reminds herself with a frown on her face. Shortly after she arrives at her destination. The supermarket is built differently, accommodating the size of Amazons. Again, there are two rows of shopping carts, big ones and small ones. The smaller ones are made of hard plastic in different vibrant colors, while the big ones are made of grey metal. Without a fuss Sophia chooses a green shopping card and starts her shopping. After entering the market, she starts at the fruit and salad section. The products are quite large from her perspective, with bigger packaging further up. There is a massive difference in the size of the packages, as the Amazons eat much bigger portions in comparison. This is the reason that their sizes are further up, where Littles would have problems reaching them anyway. After she got everything, she needs she proceeds to the cashier. At the checkout, she goes into the line for Littles, which is led by a Little cashier. Not all supermarkets across the country are this flexible. Most specialize either on Littles or Amazons and don’t try to Cather booth. After paying Sophia takes her full bags and starts her way back home. On the way back she is stopped by an Amazon woman, suggesting: “Oh dear, that looks like a heavy load for such a little girl. May I help you carry them?” Normally a Little would decline, being offended, but Sophia knows that the woman before her can’t help herself. That’s the thing about these Amazons, having this caring instinct towards Littles they see in trouble from their perspective. With a friendly attitude Sophia responds: “It’s very nice for helping me, my apartment is just around the corner.” She responds: “My name is Matilda and who are you?”, while grabbing the offered bags. Sophia introduces herself in a friendly tone: “I am Sophia, nice to meet you Matilda.”. Shortly after they arrive at the apartment complex, which Amazons can’t enter easily with their height. After a little prodding Sophia gets her bags back and says her farewells. Matilda congratulates her politeness and offers her contact data in case Sophia needs a helping hand again. Sophia tries to politely decline: “That is very nice of you, but I don’t want to take your time. Ill manage next time by myself.” Matilda responds as predicted: “Keep my number anyway, you may change your mind. It was very nice to meet such a well behaving Little.” and departs afterwards. Sophia is satisfied that she has managed the situation well. In her opinion, it doesn't make sense to stand too strongly against an Amazon, as she knows her place in society. It is much safer for her leaving a good impression. Amazons don’t just feel superior, they are superior to Littles and they know it. An Amazon is faster, stronger and more resilient. Making them much more productive in any physical job. They work longer and much more efficiently to the point that Littles can’t compete. To make things even worse Amazons learn much quicker and are able to understand complex problems faster, as well as more in depth. Therefore, making them also mentally far superior. Only in non-critical jobs like customer service or in creative jobs can a Little compete. This means that it is quite hard for a Little to get a job. Only the most committed manage to do so, while the rest end up adopted and turned into overgrown babies, like the one she has seen before. After entering her home again, she relaxes and brings the shopping bags over to the kitchen, where she stores her purchases in the appropriate places. After everything is stored, she goes back to her wardrobe to change out of the unused pull up and back into regular panties. She decides to write a bit more, before starting preparations for dinner. She feels like she needs to work hard to keep her nice place in life. Several hours later, where she poured her dreams of a better world into her literature, she starts making dinner for herself. She is quite proficient, as she took a cooking class before. She gets the chicken meat she bought earlier seasoned and into the pan. In the meantime, she starts working on a salad as a side dish, stopping regularly to check back on the meat. After everything is done, she adds a glass of water to drink and then enjoys her meal.

Hello guys! As promised, here is the second short story. Again, it has been written in less than an hour and has'nt been proofred properly, so forgive the probable mistakes. As always, comments and opinions are well apreciated. Enjoy! Little Hen “Stack the bwock higwew, we want to make a castle with a biiiig towew!” Marilyn heard from beside her. She crawled a few feet forward towards the centre of the room, hoping to find more blocks laying down on the muti-coloured foamy daycare playmat, but all that remained were just a few of them, scattered between rattles and teething rings. Frustrated, she slowly turned back. The huge diaper taped around her waist didn’t allow her much space of manouver, but she was unfortunately used to it. Mommy had stuffed her butt with three suppositories before bringing her to the daycare that day. Said it was part of her costume. After two years of diaper-enforced imprisonment under the thumb of the Amazons, she had someway got past the humiliation of being seen all diapered up in public. But that day brought her to a new low… She hated Halloween. The giants took advantage of the festivity to dress their Little captives in outfits even more humiliating than usual. Around her were at least fifteen of them. Dressed as princesses, devils, mummies, all with their padded butt on usual display. Because costumes or not, an Amazons rarely missed the opportunity to show off their prisoner’s diapered condition to the world. She really could use some more blocks, building something always helped time pass faster, it also kept her mind off what was going around her, and the humiliation she had to endure daily. But there weren’t any to be seen. All the toys were already being claimed by the other Littles playing in the area around her. And it was not possible to leave to get some more, since all the Mommies were sat down in circle around them, providing a wall of giant-sized legs that was impossible to overcome. She heard them all around. They were chuckling talking about how cute each other’s Littles looked in their silly costumes, how well the diaper brands adapted to their outfit, exchanging advices and narrating episodes about their padded pets. Sighing, Marilyn finally reached her friend Lilliana. The 25-year old-girl had it easy today. Her Mommy had her dressed in a light purple princess dress, completed by a plastic tiara and earrings, which, humiliating as it was, at least reached past her knees, allowing the dress to cover her purple plastic diaper entirely, when she was standing up at least. Marilyn’s Mommy had reserved her a much worse treatment today. She had dressed her in what looked like a hen costume, with a white t-shirt with fluffy synthetic wings attached, no bottom cover was deemed necessary for her, just a huge pristine-white diaper that was supposed to keep her from walking straight, forcing her to a wobbly waddling. Unfortunately, Mommy’s calculations were not right, the diaper was too thick for her to be walking, it barely allowed her to do more than a few staps before collapsing, but Mommy had said that she looked too adorable and had opted for keeping it. The humiliating outfit was completed by a red crest circlet over her head, it had a beak-shaped pacifier too that Mommy had luckily not inflated, but she had been pretty clear it had better not leave her mouth and ruin the perfect composition. “There are no blocks no more” Marilyn mumbled around her pacifier “What if we built a…” she tried saying before stopping. “Mewilyn awr you awlight? Lilliana said, looking concerned But the girl wasn’t listening. The strongest cramp she had ever experienced in her entire life had just hit her. She could feel it rushing through her abdomen. A wave of fear washed over her, sweat already forming on her forehead. What was happening to her? With an inhumane effort, she managed to stand up and waddle full-speed towards Mommy. If there was something wrong with her, she was the best person who could help her. “Mommyyyyyy!” she called, hurrying towards the sitting amazon, before another cramp hit her, making her lose her balance and knocking her on all fours, feeling the ominous rumbling of her lower belly. Once the pain had stopped, she immediately started crawling towards Mommy, grabbing the hem of her dress near her ankles. “Mommy help! I’m not feeling well!” she gasped, confused, just before another wave of pain manifested. She was sweating profusely now. “Oh my god I hadn’t seen her yet” the voice of another amazon woman near Mommy chimed “She looks so cuute in that little hen costume!” “She does, doesn’t she?” Mommy proudly smiled down at her, grasping the little beneath her armpits, steadying her in a stand-up position. “And now the costume is almost complete, since my little hen is about to make a nice egg for Mommy” Marilyn’s eyes widened at the merciless smile of the amazon woman. A wave of embarrassment washed over her and she felt her cheeks burning red when she saw all the grown-ups attention pointed towards her. “Is Mommy right Marilyn? Are you making an egg?” said one woman “oh she’s adorable, she looks just like a little hen!” said another “Noooo…” Marilyn managed to scream, letting her pacifier fall to the ground, but it was too late. She body was already disobeying her commands, she felt her knees bending, her face scrunching as another, stronger cramp hit her. She let out a pitiful moan, thinking about the show she was providing. Red-faced, squatting down, grunting, her fluffy wings swatting up and down as she waved her arms trying to control the overwhelming painful sensation. After a few seconds, she just surrendered. Her knees bent more in a full squat, the back of her diaper touching the ground as she gave a strong push, feeling the bulky garment already expand below her, the ball of sticky mess pushing her down some more with its weight, causing a visible bulge stand out in the back of her diaper. She remained like this, grunting and moaning for a full minute, experiencing the longest mess she had ever made since Mommy had adopted her. When she was done, opened her eyes only to see the smiling faces of a dozen on amazons around her, who had amusingly witnessed her plight. Desperate, she immediately buried her face between Mommy’s legs, crying, hoping to disappear from that wretched place. “Laying eggs sure is hard work” she heard Mommy’s voice above her, accompanied by the laughs of the women around, as the Amazon gave her soft strokes of her back to calm her down. She didn’t know how much time she spent like that, her face buried between the folds of Mommy’s dress, feeling the Amazon’s giant hand scratching her hair and the warm stickiness of the mess emanating towards her lower buttocks. “Awww…. She must be tired! Did she have a good night sleep?” “My my… all that fuss just over a stinky diaper? Hel little bottom must be aching for a paddling. I had the same problem with my girl, but after the first few spankings she quickly got over all this melodramatic behaviour” Melody slowly raised her head, squinting at the sudden light. Her bottom had already started itching. She looked up at Mommy, a pleading expression in her eyes, hope the giant would have mercy on her. “Mommy…” she meekly said, pointing at her enormous diaper that was now sporting an evident bulge Mommy gave her an amused smile, helping her settling back on her two feet. Her legs were shaky after the whole experience, it also didn’t help that she must have wet her diaper too, since it had gotten much more swollen. “What is it angel? what’s the matter with my baby girl?” “Uhm…” she mumbled. She had to be careful now, this was not the moment to make mommy angry, in there was any. In front of all her friends she was able to spank her to unconsciousness if she made her look bad with disrespectful behaviour. “I…” she whimpered, tears of humiliation already moistening her eyes “I made a poopy… change me?” Mommy smiled among the chuckles of the other amazons “I see my little hen has made a biig egg for her Mommy” “Yes Mommy and…” “And” Mommy interrupted, her tone shifting to a slightly more severe “I think my little hen needs to hatch her egg for a few hours at least. We don’t want to ruin your costume now that’s complete right?” “Yes but… Mhphhhh” Marylin tried to speak, before Mommy picked her pacifier up from the floor and with a rapid movement shoved the nipple inside her mouth, inflating it, leaving her silenced and effectively completing her costume with the beak-shaped pacifier. The Little whimpered, stomping one foot, her face already turning back with frustration “Now, my little hen better go play with her friends, before Mommy decides she needs her bottom warmed-up to better hatch her egg” Mommy said in a cheering tone, grabbing her by the ankle and turning her to face the rest of the playground, sealing her statement with a firm spank on her padded butt, that made the Little lose her balance and drop on all fours. Tears dripping on the daycare’s playmat, wings fluttering up and down as she hurried to follow her Mommy’s orders, the bulge in the back of her diaper comically swinging back and forth, the little hen returned to play with her friends.

Slowly, deliberately, Serena took a sip of coffee, savoring the flavor: Two creams. Three sugars. Extra, extra caramel. Truly, it was perfect. It was a shame, almost, that she wouldn’t be swallowing this batch. She counted backwards in her head, three…two…one… and spit out the delicious beverage all over the office carpet. “Did you…?” She stopped and glared at the intern, some barely twenty-two year old Amazon whose mother and father were rich enough so that she could afford to go unpaid for six months in the name of experience. “Did you put something in my coffee?” The girl looked like she’d been sucker punched by a professional boxer. “What?” “Did you…” Serena spoke slowly and deliberately, “put something…in my coffee?” Serena craned her neck upward and put her hands on her hips. Visually, it might remind an onlooker of a chihuahua yapping at a Dire Dane with neither dog realizing the vast size difference. More accurately, to the giants’ brains, it was closer to a toddler scolding an adult and the grown-up being terrified. “Only what you asked me to put in Miss Hudson,” the intern insisted. “Mrs…” Serena flashed her fake wedding ring. Amazons had the tiniest bit more fear of married women, and Serena had learned to weaponize that. The intern corrected herself. “Mrs. Hudson.” “Then why do I taste mocha?” Serena lied. Dramatically she dumped the rest of the coffee on the floor. A more eagle eyed witness might have noticed that there was still a carpet stain from the last time this happened. “Mocha? I ordered caramel-!” “Training chocolate?” Serena scolded. “Really? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the taste of laxative in my coffee? I’m not some poor dumb Little freshman your Sorority sister adopted just before graduation as a present to herself because she didn’t want to have it all without ruining their figure.” Based on the intern’s facial expression Serena had just sprouted a second head. “I…I…I didn’t…I swear. I’d never…I’d never think that. You’re very mature for your…” If Serena hadn’t already planned this next bit out in advance, the ‘m-word’ would have sealed the deal. “For the sake of time I hope you didn’t unpack or personalize your desk,” Serena spat. “You’re fired.” The girl ran off crying, hands buried in her face. The twenty-five year old Little walked off, the sound of her heels clicking sounded more like goat hooves to the latest crop of terrified interns. Breaking in the newbies at her family advertising firm was a favorite hobby of Serena’s. For every new batch of interns, she’d make sure to hire one more than was needed just so that she could dramatically fire them in front of everyone else; and it was always an Amazon. “Somebody clean that up.” It was a trick she’d learned from her mother. Tweeners were prepared to be fired at the drop of a hat. Littles, if they were mature enough to handle a job, were more worried about being plunked in a crib. Amazons were always shocked when things didn’t go their way; it’s why Serena did it. A Little with authority and she wielded it like a sledgehammer. It was a wonder Serena Hudson hadn’t been adopted yet by some high and mighty Amazon who thought the Little might need a diapered attitude adjustment. Except that she’d already been adopted. “Phone call on line one Mrs. Hudson,” Serena’s Tweener secretary notified her. Petite, even for a Little, Serena still didn’t come up to her secretary’s chest while wearing high heels. “I’ve got a video conference call in forty five minutes.” Serena didn’t so much as turn her head or slow her stride. “It’s your mother, ma’am.” Serena stopped. “Put it in my office.” She clicked into her office and climbed the footstool into her mother’s old office chair. She’d lost count of how many hours she’d sat in Mommy’s lap, learning the tricks and tools of successful management. Mommy was gone now; retired rather; though she still had a seat on the board of directors of various philanthropic endeavors. The custom made leather booster that perfectly matched the original upholstery had to suffice. “Mommy?” she asked, her voice unconsciously raising a half-octave. Little or not, everyone becomes who they were circa age twelve when they’re around their parents. The fact that Serena had already known her Amazon parent when she was twelve only exacerbated the habit. Like so many Littles, Serena had been adopted. Unlike her late twenties and early thirties peers, Serena had actually been adopted, not abducted. She’d been put back in diapers at age three and was allowed out of them by age five; not bad, all things considered. The idea that Littles had Maturosis had been almost a decade away from getting deep roots or firmly codified, and Littles were just adopted for being “immature”. Maturosis or not, Serena getting trapped so early had helped her. Conventional wisdom said that Littles past a certain age were beyond all hope of truly growing up. If they couldn’t hack the real world in their teens and twenties, why bother giving them a chance in their thirties and forties? “Re-raising” Littles just meant keeping them as babies. Being close to an actual baby at the time, Serena had been given the benefit of the doubt and had flourished under a system of private tutors, genuine parental affection, and learning from her Mommy’s and Daddy’s example. Who wouldn’t flourish? “Hello, Siri,” Mommy said on the phone, her voice sounding pleasant, but forced. “How are you?” “I’m well, Mommy.” Serena said. “Yourself?” “I’m fine, dear. How are you minding the shop?” Serena shrugged, unconsciously. “Oh, you know,” she said. “I just fired an intern.” “Good girl,” Mommy’s voice sounded with genuine pride. “Just like we taught you. Did the old botched coffee order?” “Yes, ma’am.” Serena leaned back in her leather booster chair, feeling proud of herself. “I still use that one from time to time at the hospital.” The hospital was one of the places where she sat on the aforementioned board. “Accused the girl of slipping in training chocolates, I’m guessing?” “I technically don’t need a justification to fire her,” Serena said. She shrugged again. “But yes.” “I’m not sure whether I should discourage you from leaning into such dreadful stereotypes or be proud of you for leveraging them to your advantage.” The Little smirked. “The latter, please.” Mommy gave no laugh or other comment. Small talk had officially ended, but Mommy wasn’t going to bring up the reason for her call. Serena had to make the first move. “I’ve got a meeting today that I need to prepare for.” She cushioned the statement by adding, ‘What can I do for you?” It was slightly rude, but power moves had to be made when talking to powerful people. Growing up as she had, Serena didn’t know if it was a rich person thing or an Amazon thing, and frankly it didn’t matter much either way. Hurrying things along was Serena’s way of saying ‘Spit it out, Mom. What do you want? Why did you call?’. “I just got the latest fertility results back.” She hadn’t realized it, but Serena had forgotten to breathe. For as long as she could remember, Serena’s parents had been trying to conceive and have a biological child; an Amazon child. At twenty-five, things had improved on the anxiety front; Serena had aged out of worrying about being replaced and having to share her parents’ love and was firmly in the ‘Will this affect my inheritance’ stage. Still, she genuinely cared about her Mommy and Daddy and wanted them to be happy. There was no good answer to the question she was about to ask. “Okay. What were they?” “Not good,” Mommy sighed audibly. Serena’s face fell. “I”m starting…my body is…” She stopped, not even wanting to say menopause. “I just feel…old, dear.” There was a pause. Growing up as she had, empathy was not one of Serena’s strengths. “I just wanted the chance to hold a baby in my arms again.” “You could always be a grandmother,” Serena offered, and instantly regretted it. Bringing up being a grandmother to a woman who’d just said she felt old was a bad idea. That, and Serena wasn’t exactly lighting the dating world on fire. The physical mechanics of intimacy with an Amazon were… complicated; the social even moreso. She scared off most Tweeners and Littles who might have been interested. They just weren’t on her level. Also, it was hard to get emotionally invested in anyone who could miss a second date because they screwed up and got sent to daycare. That gave her an idea. “Why not adopt again?” she broke the silence that had followed her misstep. “It worked with me. You could even get an immature Little if you wanted. Have a forever baby.” If Serena was supposed to feel guilty, about suggesting another Little get thrown under the stroller, she didn’t. The part she’d yelled to her intern about freshmen Littles getting adopted wasn’t exactly manufactured. Some Littles really couldn’t cut it in the big bad world of Amazons. They were lucky in a way that the only penalty for failure was a life without responsibility. It was compassionate after a fashion. More to Serena’s benefit, a sibling that didn’t grow-up would not inherit any stock portfolio down the line. Knowing Mommy and Daddy, they’d be given a trust to pay for caregivers, diapers, formula and the like, but that would be all. “I suppose, Siri,” Mommy said. “I suppose.” Predictably, she started brightening a tad at the idea. “It might be nice, actually. I wouldn’t have to redecorate her nursery, or worry about tutors. Never needed daycare when I was working with you. Wouldn’t need one now that I’m retired. Wouldn’t have to pay for private teachers…” The Little executive stared at the time on her computer calculating when the best time would be to end the conversation so she could get back to work “See? You’re still a mother, and you can be a mother again.” Mommy’s expression turned sour. ‘Oh, but there’s that law.” “Which one?” “That families can only adopt one Little.” Serena imagined her mother curling her lip in disgust as she did. “Stupid goddamn beauracrats.” “Mother!” “Sorry, Siri. Mommy lost her temper for a second.” As an already adopted Little, Serena was only vaguely aware of the relatively new law. The cold harsh reality was that Littles were a kind of commodity and the government had realized that if Littles were over-babied, there wouldn’t be actual baby Littles being made for future generations of giants to pamper and infantilize. So gone were the days where parents would walk around with Littles in double strollers, or have a gaggle of diapered thirty and forty year olds on toddler leashes. There was a time when the well to do would have an entire nursery all to themselves. But if an Amazon had so much love in their heart that they’d have to find an immature Little to baby and cosset forever, they’d have to give all of that parental affection to just one. There were already positive results, sociologically speaking, Serena had had to admit. Littles were less afraid to approach an Amazon with a bouncing ‘baby’ Little on their lap, provided they didn’t have a particularly cossetting best friend right next to them. Of course, with her peculiar background Serena had never had to worry about getting adopted. Amazons didn’t steal children away from other Amazons. Serena could be spanked, mouthsoaped, and put in a naughty corner, but never adopted by someone else. As soon as they found out she had a ‘proper’ Mommy and Daddy that option was off the table. As soon as they found out who her Mommy and Daddy were those other options were swept up in a flash, too. “We’ll think of something,” Serena promised. “Exceptions can always be made. It’s not what you know but who you know.” She could practically hear her mother nodding along. “True, true. True, true. Your father is already meeting with a lawyer. We’d like you to take part in the discussion, too. You might have some insight that could help us.” “Would love to. I’ve got a meeting in a few minutes, however. Tonight?” “Tomorrow would be better. Mommy said. “At the hospital.” “Tomorrow then.” The Little executive hung up the phone and prepped for her meeting. Filing away going to the hospital in the back of her brain. Mrs. Hudson, the real Mrs. Hudson, wanted a baby and what Mrs. Hudson wanted she generally got. It’s just what Hudsons in general did. What Serna had failed to entertain, even for a second, was that she might end up as the baby. ************************************************************************************************************ It was quite the motley crew that gathered the next day. One might have thought they were going to a funeral, considering how everyone was dressed in black. Perfect strangers, too. The light blonde hair Serena had been born with had turned dark brown enough to be almost black, while Daddy’s had aged to a snowy white. Mommy was still blonde, but that was thanks to her stylist, not nature. Still, among the Hudsons, there was the familial familiarity in how they addressed and looked at each other. It was strange. Normally one didn’t see that kind of closeness between Littles and Amazons unless the Littles needed a pacifier to keep quiet and had a steady cartoon diet to keep them compliant. Looking in the plain, but pristine business office, one might not have guessed that life saving medical decisions were being made in above, below, and around them, but even hospitals need such places: Someone had to keep the lights on, negotiate settlements for malpractice, and negotiate the budget for the coming year. In a way that’s what the Hudsons were doing: Negotiating. “What are our options?” Daddy started the meeting in earnest once initial introductions were made; (fat lot of good that did since Serena had already forgotten the lawyer’s name). They sat around a large rectangular meeting table with far more seats than attendees: just Serena, Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, and the lawyer. He was a Tweener, so his chair was something of a modified stool. Serena’s seat was once a highchair that now lacked the restraints and tray and was given the once over so that it had something besides pastel fabric and hard plastic. It wouldn’t do as well with stains, but the Littles who used it didn’t need to worry about diaper leaks or spilling strained peas…probably. “I’ve had some of my people look into it,” Serena volunteered. This earned her curious glances from her parents on either side. “What? My team is normally more into finance and tax loops, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know a thing or two about a thing or two.” Mommy and Daddy exchanged looks. “What are your ideas, Siri?” Mommy asked. “Based on the precedent of the law,” Serena said, “it’s under the premise that one full time Little baby needs so much attention that it would be unethical to have more than one in any given family.” That wasn’t the real reason the law had been passed, obviously. The art of politics was saying one thing and everyone in power knowing its a lie but going along with it anyways. “Couldn’t the argument be that because I’m not a dependent, that my parents have more than enough resources to foster another Little?” The bigger people’s heads were already shaking by the time she’d finished talking. “While that is the official opinion that lead to the policy,” the Tweener lawyer said, “that’s not how the law is worded. One adopted Little per family. Full stop.” “What if I adopted a Little from an orphanage and then signed away custody to you?” “Siri,” Daddy said, “orphanages are closing left and right. Too many empty cribs.” “From overseas then?” Serena offered. “Even if we were able to get away with something like that,” Mommy explained, “what would happen to you? A Little that tried to adopt and gave up? That’s not very mature, is it?” Damn. That was a good point. Even if she couldn’t be re-adopted, that perception of her could really hurt the business. “A Tweener?” “Legally speaking, we’re close enough to Littles that the law protects us as well.” Despite the confidence in his tone, there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Unlike Serena he’d clearly not been adopted and there wasn’t anything protecting him. “What about just adopting a regular Amazon baby?” Mommy and Daddy stared at each other over Serena’s head, and then slowly shook theirs. “They would grow up,” Mommy said. “Once was enough.” Serena’s adoptive mother didn’t want a child, she wanted a baby. And babies eventually turned into children unless they were Littles. “And I don’t want to adopt again. Did that too.” Mommy gave her a glowing look. “And I have no regrets doing that. You’ve been a wonderful daughter, Siri. I just want to…I want to nurture and carry life inside me. I want to be pregnant.” “Invitro?” Serena suggested. More slow headshakes.A fine layer of mist was building up in Mommy’s eyes. “No offense, Mommy, but it seems you want to have your cake and eat it too. You can’t get pregnant and have a baby that won’t grow up.” In what could only have been stupefied shame, Mommy broke eye contact and looked away. Serena quietly hoped she didn’t get that crazy when her body started changing again. As if in reply the door cracked open. In slid an Amazon man about Serena’s parents’ age; early to mid fifties, possibly late forties, with wispy silver hair. “Am I too early?” the man asked with a quiet shyness. She was about to tell him that he was; this needed’t concern him, when the lawyer cut her off“No, Doctor,” the Tweener said. “You’re right on time.” Serena raised her brow in question. What was a doctor doing here? Was this the one that had delivered the bad news concerning her mother’s declining fertility? Her concerns lessened dramatically as the man leaned over and shook every member of the family’s hand before taking the chair next to the lawyer. “Dr. Maddox, good to see you,” Daddy said. “So…?” “As I told you and your wife over the phone,” the doctor said, “I think we have an option regarding your wife getting pregnant.” “Go on, Doctor.” “Are you familiar with the work of Dr. Matilda Devereux?” Maddox asked, his gaze wandering over to the LIttle. Of course she wasn’t, and of course her parents had been given at least the elevator pitch. This was for the younger Hudson’s benefit. Politely, Serena shook her head. “No, Doctor. What can you tell me?” “I’ll spare you the finer details, but she’s had some remarkable success in…let’s call it ‘unbirthing’.” “Oh no…” the gasp came up out of Serena’s throat almost involuntary. It didn’t take a..a…whatever degree this doctor had to figure out what that meant given the context. Her stomach started to turn. “Yes,” the doctor said, not at all perturbed by Serena’s reaction. “It was invented as a way to kick start a woman’s reproductive system, but there are other implications. There have already been over a dozen recorded successes so far overseas. It doesn’t help with menopause, but pregnancy is pregnancy as far as the body is concerned. The successful implantation of a Little into an Amazon womb is no longer a dream.” “And as far as we can find,” the Tweener lawyer chimed in, “there’s nothing illegal about it.” “Who would dream that?” Mere moments before, Serena was talking about abducting and adopting fully grown Littles, but this was crossing an ethical line that Serena hadn’t known she’d had. Her question went unanswered; at least directly. The doctor’s gaze moved to Mommy. “You’ll have to be on a strict regimen of specialized medication after the implantation procedure. Even as the operation slows the baby’s metabolism, you’ll still have to feed her.” “Of course,” Mommy said. “Shouldn’t be hard.” “Where are you even going to find a Little to do this on?” All eyes honed in on Serena. Her mouth became as dry and coarse as desert sand. “What? No. No, no, no.” She turned in her seat and looked at her mother. “Mommy. I love you, and you’ve been great to me, but I'm not getting shoved into your body so that you can be pretend pregnant.” Daddy’s heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “We don’t have a choice, Siri. We don’t have any other Littles and can’t adopt any more.” She tried to shrug her father’s hand off. She failed. “No! Don’t be ridiculous. I won’t be a part of it. I don’t consent.” She glared at the doctor and repeated herself. “I. Do. Not. Consent.” The lawyer who Serena still couldn’t remember, “Your consent, technically speaking, isn’t needed.” “I’m an adult!” Serena shouted. “No, Siri,” Mommy said, “You’re a Little.” Behind her sad, guilty smile, there was a hunger that Serena hadn’t seen before. It had been hidden by the looming tears. “Your adoption papers from when you were three,” the lawyer explained, “are no different than the papers of a Little who gets adopted at twenty-five. Your Mommy and Daddy are well within their rights to revoke your adulthood from you.” Serena’s brain barely registered when she was lifted out of the chair and pinned face first to the meeting table. “But Mommy! Daddy!” she shrieked and begged. “I proved that I’m an adult! I potty trained! I got straight A’s all through college! Stocks have risen since I took over the family business!” “I know,” she heard Mommy say. “And this isn’t a reflection on you, dear. It’s just…it’s not personal.” “Fuck you!” Serena shouted. “You’re going to be so happy when all of this is over,” Daddy promised. “Your mother and I always regretted that we never got to know the real you when you were a newborn. This is our chance.” This couldn’t be happening! It wasn’t! It just wasn’t! While Daddy pinned her face down against the mahogany meeting table, Mommy started pulling Serena’s pants down. Jarringly, her brain registered the rest of the stillness in the room. Her body thrashed for all its worth but after a certain point she was just helping Mommy get her panties down. Meanwhile the plain white wall of the meeting room was the only thing she could take in. One sense felt everything that was wrong and another saw absolutely nothing. “You can’t do this!” She heard the smug condescension in the Tweener’s voice. “Legally speaking, this is no different than if your parents had tried to potty train you and then go back to diapers. They just gave you a trial run of a couple of decades instead of a couple of weeks.” “What about the company?” “We’re retired,” Daddy said. “There are some things more important than business. Like family. Could have sworn we taught you that.” She’d done everything right! Her entire life she’d been an Amazon in miniature and she was about to be indistinguishable from any other Little she’d crossed paths with. They all struggled and cried and begged in the end. Even her. It must be inborn; reflexive. “Please!” she pleaded. “I don’t want to go back to diapers!” “Don’t worry,” the doctor said from behind her. He must have walked the other way around. “You won’t be. Not for at least seven months.” Serena felt a pinch on her left butt cheek as the syringe plunged into her. The world went away. *************************************************************************************************** “How are we doing, anesthetic?” “Mother is under, Little should be coming up.” Serena’s brain clicked on. Anesthesia was like that. It wasn’t sleep as much as it was flipping the person’s brain on and off. No dreams. Not even the vague awareness of the passage of time. If there was such a thing as a soul, it was probably the closest someone could get to death and still be on this side of the coffin. She opened her eyes, groaning into the bright lights of the operating room. Reflexively she tried to struggle but her limbs were tied down to the slab she was on.. She could just barely lift her head and look around. Amazon doctors were everywhere scurrying about like ants right after the mound had been kicked. Tubing and needles were inserted into her arms, seeming to criss-cross and snake everywhere. The slight tickle in the back of her throat and clogged sensation in her nose told her that she had a feeding tube shoved down her throat. The only dignity she was allowed was a petite operating gown covering her tiny fragile form. The catheter tubes broadcasted that she at least wasn’t wearing a diaper. “Welcome back,” an Amazon in surgical scrubs said, looming over her. It was hard to tell if it was the man who had stuck the needle in her ambush. In the big scheme of things it didn’t much matter. Serena didn’t need to know who it was to let out an absolutely blood curdling scream. The surgeon smiled with his eyes. “No need for that, little girl. “If you can understand me, blink twice.” “Phughoo!” Serena said. Her eyes shot open. Her teeth! What had happened to her teeth? Her entire mouth sang out in unbearable pain. She’d gotten her wisdom teeth removed and had needed to subside on a diet of over the counter pain pills and frozen yogurt just to get through the rest of the week. This was like that but a million times worse. She ran her tongue along her barren mouth and tasted nothing but bloody gums and the tickling ends of stitches. “If you can understand me,” the doctor repeated. “Blink twice.” She did. “Good. We need to get the anesthesia more or less out of your system before we implant you into your new home.” He chuckled dryly. “More of a timeshare, really. A rental?” The former executive let out mewling whine, asking for explanation, or pity. The doctor only gave one. “You may notice that your belly is slightly distended.” She hadn’t, but now that he’d pointed it out. “Don’t worry, you’re not gaining any weight, we just loaded you up via enema and feeding tube; kind of like a bear before hibernation. Took care of your hair too.” Serena was beyond tears as a gloved Amazon hand brushed against her freshly shaved scalp. “Don’t worry,” she heard, “This part will grow back, but not as thick. Babies as Little as you don’t need thick heads of hair anyways. It’ll grow in lighter too. You’ll look even more like your Mommy.” That was no comfort. “In just a few minutes” the surgeon told her, “we’re going to be draining your blood through your femoral artery while we transfer some of your Mommy’s blood into you. Because of the stuff we’ve already given her, you’ll get very drowsy, but it won’t feel like anesthetic. It’ll be just like slipping into a warm bath. As we insert you, we’ll unhook you from the machines and hook you up into your Mommy. Then it’ll be her job to take care of you.” Serena tried saying something else, but the combination of drugs still in her system, tubes in most every orifice, exhaustion from medical abuse, and lack of teeth made everything come out as just more babbling gibberish. The entire staff just ignored her as they wheeled her closer and closer to her mother’s prone, unconscious form. “Maaaaa! Maaaaaaa!” “She can’t hear you,” the doctor told her. “You’ll have to try again later, on your new birthday.” She started feeling light headed, watching as the blood drained out of her. Her skin started buzzing when more blood drained into her. Serena closed her eyes. They fluttered open when one of the needles was removed. “It’s okay baby. Go back to sleep.” It really was like slipping into a warm bath. ****************************************************************************************************** A blur of time. Less a surgery anesthetic and more of a coma. Serena was aware, but only in short bursts, like waking up from a dream in the middle of the night before plunging back to sleep. It was the reflexive kick and startle from a falling dream. It was rolling over when a limb started to tingle or a shoulder ached too much. It was screaming and startling from a night terror, only to be claimed by darkness. There were brief moments of lucidity where the Little woman knew how doomed she was, but those were few and far between. The rest of the time that passed, she’d be half-conscious just long enough to wonder what time it was, where the alarm clock was, and what she was going to do to scare the life out of that unlucky intern she’d inevitably fire, before rolling over and going back to sleep. It never quite occurred to her that the thick heavy bed sheets draped over her head were actually made of artificial amniotic fluid. Occasionally she’d be aware of the thump thumping in the air. It was a passing train, definitely not another heartbeat. Or she’d hear muffled voices. The walls in these overpriced apartments were too thin, and the neighbors must be throwing a party. Stupid college kids… Then… Light! Air! Serena came out gasping for breath and dripping. She’d just started trying to blink away the confusion when an Amazon sized hand turned her upside down and slapped her as hard as she could. “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Serena bellowed in shock and pain. She was still too weak and disoriented to do or say anything more coherent. Huge Amazon hands laid her down on a table and started toweling the viscous stuff out of her. “Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Hudson. It’s a girl!” She’d barely inhaled through her mouth when a nozzle practically shoved itself up her nose. A bit of suction and mucous and more viscous fluid jolted out of her clogged nostril. Without actively thinking about it she puffed air out of her right nostril trying to chase away discomforting sensation. The action was premature, she found, as the same tube alternated to the other nostril. Someone was literally picking her nose for her! Her protests and cries of stop simply came out as more incoherent mumbling. Serena was disoriented by everything that was happening to her but once the baby blue nozzle stopped sucking the fluid from her nose she realized that she had been laid onto something cold as an icy chill consumed her bare naked thighs, bottom and back. Whatever she was laying on had slowly lowered itself due to her weight. She tried to lift her arms and legs to get away the cold plastic, but she couldn't even lift her limbs! “Weight,: one-hundred pounds.” Her arms and legs felt like they were weighted down and made of clay. She willed them to move but nothing happened. Someone stretched her legs for her and straightened her spine. “Height, five foot two.” Serena's limbs weren’t asleep, either; with the Little being acutely aware of her legs being lifted up and something being inserted into her rear end. Her shrieks took on an even higher pitch with that action; the rod was smooth and cold and violating. She wanted to thrash and kick at the almost casual intrusion, but she lacked the strength to so much as roll over, let alone fend for herself. “Temperature: Ninety-eight point eight.” Something finally clicked. She was being weighed, measured and having her temperature taken. Just like a newborn. The giant manipulating her body lifted her unresponsive legs up and she felt something soft and cushioned slid under her bottom. She felt as much as heard the soft plastic crinkle over her own incoherent wailing. A diaper! She was being diapered! “WAAAAAAH!” Months old memories came flooding back. No kicking, only screaming for the Little girl. Her arms and legs from months of stillness had become all but useless. She couldn't even sit up or turn away as the fresh diaper was taped on. Serena felt an ankle bracelet snap around her left leg. “Last name: Hudson.” The nurse called out. “First name?” “Serena.” It was Daddy’s voice. “We’re not changing a thing about her name. She’s always been our bundle of joy.” More crying as it was easier than ever for her to be mummified in a clean blanket and swaddled like a newborn. She was trapped. She’d grown into a butterfly, spent over half a year trapped inside the cocoon of her adoptive mother’s womb and had come out a caterpillar. Less than a caterpillar! A maggot! “My baby!” Mommy cried out. “Give me my baby girl!” The room flew by and the open air felt frigid against Serena’s face while she was passed from giant to giant. “That’s right,” Mommy whispered. “Come to Mommy. Come on. You can do it.” She felt something stiff and fleshy brush against her cheek. With near exhausting effort Serena turned her head and felt Mommy’s erect nipple enter her mouth. “That’s right. Go on and latch. Go on.” Toothless, cold, and hungry, the girl sucked and sucked and sucked. The first few pulls reminded her of college dating, until the first bits of colostrum flooded her mouth. Something between forgotten instinct and desperation took the wheel from there. “Latch.” Mommy said. “That’s right.” Serena had no choice. She suckled and suckled while her now birth mother petted the thin wisps of light blonde hair that had grown over the last few months. Were she an adult, she might look like she was just going through chemo. She was a Little, though, and so just seemed all the more newborn. “Take your first meal.” It would be the first of many. There wouldn’t even be a highchair necessary to feed her. The meal didn’t last long. Her stomach was just as weak as her arms from disuse. The new newborn woman lasted no more than a few mouthfuls before she felt like she might vomit. Mommy didn’t force it. Too weak to talk. Too weak to open her eyes, Serena could only listen and breathe. “How long before she can crawl again?” “Unless you put her through extensive surgery and therapies,” a voice said. “Probably never.” “What about tummy time?” Mommy asked. “As long as she’s awake and supervised, you can start in a few days when you get home.” “Good,” Mommy said, sounding satisfied. “I don't want her laying in her bassinet all day. Solid foods?” “Keep her on a liquid diet. Your body will provide for her if you stay on the pill regimen and your milk will come with enough calories. However, there are high calorie baby formulas that can imitate breast milk if you stop taking the medication. Either way, she’ll probably gain a bit of a tummy. Twenty to thirty pounds. Some real baby fat.” Twenty to thirty pounds? A lifetime of diet and exercise being poured down the drain and squirted directly into her mouth! Serena felt her diaper warm slightly, pulling her away from her silently lamenting. Was that her imagination or had she just peed a little bit? Her bladder was so weak she couldn’t tell. It didn’t fill up as much as just constantly dripped out of her. “So she’ll be my little newborn,” Mommy said, sounding tired and happy. “Forever.” “She’s a Little. They stay at whatever age you put them in, but with her it would take a lot of work if you wanted to treat her even a few months older than a newborn.” “I talked with a lawyer,” Daddy’s voice made Serena’s ears twitch. “Because you’re now Siri’s birth mother, we can technically adopt again if we want to give her a bigger sibling. Maybe a Little boy this time. Or a girl if we want to still use all those frilly dresses we’ve got leftover from the first time.” “One thing at a time,” the doctor said. “In the meantime, I think both mother and baby need their rest. It’s been a big day.” Serena was ripped away from her mother’s arms and carried out just as she started silently hyperventilating. The quiet of the delivery room was replaced with the crying of newborns in the maternity ward. Other newborns. The Little opened her eyes just in time to see glass walls surround her. An aquarium of a crib-an incubator- rose up around her and Amazon nurses unwrapped her from her blankets, leaving her naked save for the not-quite-fresh diaper she’d just been put in and her identifying anklet. All around her newborn children screamed and bawled, scrunching up their faces, confronted by the shock of a confusing and frightening world. A newborn in all but mind, Serena related. What would other Littles think of her when they saw her. Probably what she thought of most before all this. “Good thing I’m not her.” She was in diapers and definitely needed them. But she couldn’t walk or crawl or eat solid foods. She’d spend the rest of her life being carried around and breastfed. She might get the quiet dignity of a footed onesie, but it was just as likely that being swaddled in a blanket and knit cap would suffice to cover her diaper and keep her warm, if anything at all. Painfully, aching and exhausted, Serena lifted her head up and did her best to look around. Huge familiar faces stared at her, both young and old. Children coming to see their new baby brothers and sisters. Grandparents meeting their first grandchild. It was supposed to be heartwarming but it was closer to how a zoo animal must feel. It might have been delirium, but Serena could have sworn she saw an Amazon woman sipping a cup of coffee and smiling smugly down at her. How many interns had she done that coffee trick to? Even hospitals needed someone to fetch the coffee and file the paperwork. They had to go somewhere. That’s when Serena messed herself. It wasn’t a big poop. Newborns’ first bowel movements never were. It still felt disgusting to Serena’s formerly adult sensibilities. With her bowels and bladder as broken as they were, it was very likely that she’d spend most of the rest of her life, such as it was, wet or messy. Wearing clean clothing around her bottom would be the exception and not the rule. “I did everything right,” Serena thought to herself. “I was the perfect daughter, I grew up getting straight A's, ran a business and I’m still here, lower than the lowest pants messer. I don’t even have pants anymore…” As the nurses walked away to check on other crying babies, she joined them and lent her impotent screams to theirs. The only difference was most of them would get to grow up.

Hello Guys, I'm back with some one shots I've been writing. This story has been written in less than an hour, so it will be far from perfect, but I hope you'll enjoy it nonetheless. I have another one shot almost ready that needs some proofreading, just like this one, it's less than three pages long. If somebody wants to help me make some corrections or modify it, send me a message, it will be appreciated. Thank you, and Enjoy! Backed-Up Lily-Anne was running. Or at least she was trying to. Her apparel wasn’t really ideal for that. The huge crinkling diaper taped around her hips spread her legs apart, forcing her to gyrate her lower section with each step and reducing what was supposed to be a full-speed rush to an awkward waddling. The diabolical thing reached way past up her bellybutton and had a someway rigid outer shell encapsulating the inner crinkling padding that prevented her from balancing her torso forward to gain a better running – or at least waddling – position. The fluttering yellow sundress didn’t exactly help either, it barely reached her upper thighs, leaving the pristine white diaper completely visible as it reached down between her legs, making an ample curve, almost reaching her mid-thighs before ending with a flowering crinkling mass of padding that covered her bottom. “Lily-Anne!” a booming female voice came from the kitchen “Come here this instant! I’m not going to repeat twice!” The girl winced at the sound of that voice, but didn’t stop her desperate waddle. She was in the living room right now, tottering beneath the giant-scaled table and between the huge chair legs. She could do it, past the living room was the kitchen and sometimes Ethel forgot to close the door. She could easily get to the garden if that was the case. She gained speed, her target was getting closer and closer. She had almost crossed the doorway that led to the kitchen when the entire door frame was suddenly occupied by an enormous figure. Lily-Anne’s smile turned into a desperate grimace as she tried to stop herself from running towards the Giantess, but, despite herself, she had already picked too much speed. She tried pinning her legs forward to stop her pace, but she ended up slipping on the freshly washed floor. She let out a little “Owie!” as she hit her padded rump on the marble tiles, keeping on sliding forward until her diapered crotch came in contact with one of the Giantess’s feet with a loud crinkle. The fallen, spread-legged Little girl looked up, her eyes already moistening with tears. Two giant tone legs that to her looked like the columns of a temple, a plump body with wide hips, two enormous breasts, each one much bigger than the Little girl’s head, all topped off by a oval creamy white face with high cheekbones, all crowned by golden hair pulled in a tight bun. Mommy had found her. “there you are you naughty little!” She said leaning down “You know when mommy calls you have to stop playing and come to mommy quick smart!” Lily-Anne sighed as she felt being lifted up by her armpits with unconceivable ease. With a quick spin of her head she found herself looking down into the ground, which now was more than 10 meters away. Still sobbing, she clung for dear life to mommy’s neck, as the Amazon picked her up and threw her on her shoulder. She had never endured heights. Playing… she thought while her giant owner carried her across the corridor and up the stairs. Mommy thought she was playing. Her best escape attempt in months hadn’t even been worthy of being recognized as such… then again where would she ran off to? Mommy was faster than her in her normal clothes, with her thick diaper on there was no doubt mommy would catch her the second she spotted her waddling away. And mommy had a car…there was no way to gain a long-distance advantage with the giant. But it wasn’t just mommy… Mrs Stevenson and Mrs marple – their neighbours – they kept littles too, as did the whole fucking neighbourhood apparently. She would never go unnoticed cruising the streets I her frilly dresses and thick diaper. “here we are baby, now be good for Mommy…” Lily-Ann heard her warden whisper in her ear. She was brutally torn away from her thoughts when she saw Mommy had carried her all the way upstairs to her nursery. That was strange…Mommy usually didn’t let her stay in the nursery aside for naps and diaper changes. She preferred keeping her confined in her playpen or waddling around the house where she could easily keep an eye on her. The little girl sobbed, her stay in that world had significantly weakened all her muscles, she dind’t know if this was an effect of crossing one of the portals or was caused by her relative lack of actual exercise (she would defy anybody in trying to jog to keep fit while you were wearing a fucking diaper) mixed with the food Mommy fed her. As a matter of fact, she found that her weakened muscles and thick diaper made extremely difficult for her to get past the mesh walls of her playpen; she had lost count of all the times she had huffed and puffed, grabbing the padded border trying to hoist herself up, falling on her back before she had managed to get even a single leg past the babyish fence. But if escaping the playpen was very difficult, getting out of the crib was practically impossible. After Mommy had surprised her once in the attempt of getting out during nighttime, she had purchased a model with lower bars and a upper lid that turned it basically into a wooden cage, not leaving her enough space to even stand upright and forcing her to crouch under the wooden bars. Lily-Anne hated the crib. But despite that, she regretted not being put down for an early nap when she saw where Mommy was carrying her. The giant woman was headed straight towards the pink-padded changing table, and Lily Anne’s muscles clenched when she saw a huge enema waiting on it, the nozzle already dripping. “Noooooooo! Mommy please I don’t wanna!” she screamed terrorized, squirming in a futile attempt to escape the giant grasp. All she earned for her troubles were a few bounces and a couple of swats administered on her back thighs, just below her diapered area. “Don’t be silly darling. How long has it been yet? Two days? And your diapers are just wet. We can’t let you stay this backed up for long. All that poop has to get out, it’s not healthy” said Mommy, unfazed as she lowered her face down on the padded surface of the changing table. “I’ll try Mommy!” the little girl desperately pleaded, trying to get up struggling against the giant hand on her back that kept her down “I’ll poop without the medicine! Please let me try! I know I can do it!” “No chance dear” Lily anne heard Mommy saying from above her, as she heard the familiar sound of tapes being ripped, followed by a cumbersome weight leaving her bottom, replaced by the sensation of chill air on her buttocks. “And we’ll have to go ahead and keep changing your diet. I can’t believe you’re still this constipated after all the fibers I feed you. We might need to consider a full liquid diet…” At this point Lily anne wasn’t listening anymore, she had entered a frenzy, kicking screaming and trying to escape Mommy’s hold to avoid the enema that was surely approaching her. “Oh quit fussing, baby! It’s just some medicine” said Mommy reaching back with her free hand, grabbing the dreaded enema from outside the Little girl’s sight. “Nooooo! Mommy please! Pleaseeeeee!” lily anne kept screaming, now feeling the tip of the enema scratching against her buttocks. The little girl let out a outraged grunt as Mommy with impeccable aim inserted the nozzle right up her butt. She arched her back, feeling the burning sensation caused by the plastic intruder. She wanted to squirm some more, but she felt herself going limp as she experienced the hot liquid being emptied inside her. Mommy loosened her grip, and took advantage of her diminished stamina to better adjust her. She bent her legs and lifted her lower half, leaving her naked with her bottom sticking up in the air, the ignominious enema still inside. For a few minutes all Lily anne felt were the soft strokes followed by pats and squeezes Mommy administered to her butt and to the enema. Making sure it slowly but completely emptied inside her. Her head was spinning when she was picked up, still naked by Mommy’s strong hands and brought up at eye level with the domineering giant. “See, it wasn’t that bad” the amazon said giving her a soft kiss on the forehead, before lowering her down, on her back this time, and started working the huge diaper back under and around her. Lily anne grimaced as she saw the amazon reaching for another diaper, and lifting her legs once more taping it over the one she was already wearing; leaving her legs locked in a ninety degree angle. Her sight was obscured when mommy took the flimsy sundress off her, leaving her in just her humongous double diaper. Soon, she found herself once more against Mommy’s shoulder, the giant woman carrying her towards the crib. This time she barely had the to look at her giant warden with pleading eyes, knowing what was coming. Mommy lowered in the crib on her back. She felt the padded mattress scratching her skin as she struggled to get on her feet, but with the huge mass around her hips and between her thighs she had the same agility of an overturned turtle. Mommy smiled down at her, taking advantage of her position to close the lid of the crib above her, locking it with the usual pink heart-shaped padlock. “Baby needs time to do her business and think about how naughty she has been” she said reaching through the wooden bars and patting the front of her diaper. “Mommy will be back in a few hours, but that diapee stays on until tomorrow at least. We need to make sure the medicine does the trick so all the poop is out of you, don’t we? See you in a bit” Lily-anne managed to get on all fours just in time to see the Amazon woman leave the room. Desperate, she sobbed, clutching the wooden bars of her prison. She cried, feeling a squelchy fart already escaping her. That was going to be a long day.

Somewhere on the “UsBox Now”, a stream went live. Simultaneous updates on both public and supposedly private social media sites alerted subscribers to the feed. Anyone tuning in would have seen a pastel blue blur filling up the camera for an awkward few seconds before the figure in front of it slowly and carefully backed away, a plastic crinkling sound punctuating each step. To Amazon eyes, it was an adorable baby girl, barely a toddler despite her curly strawberry blonde ringlets. Surely, she wasn’t big or mature enough for potty training. Her blue pinafore dress had undersea decorations patterned on it, and no diaper was immediately visible, but the pacifier clipped onto her collar was a hint. Toddlers and preschoolers ready for potty training didn’t tend to get the suckles. Common wisdom dictated that the matching ‘panties’ in view were poofed out for a reason. Someone must have gotten a hold of their Mommy or Daddy’s phone and was trying to play silly baby games like Veggie Samurai. Precious! Tweeners would see what they often saw: A Little who hadn’t managed to keep up with the Amazons. The smallest folk often stumbled and bigger arms were always there to catch them and lower them even further into a crib. Based on the tall wooden bars in the background, this analysis was more than mere metaphor. It was a fifty-fifty split on whether this was a call for help or they were putting on a show for their new parents to delight in. It was so hard to tell or predict with Littles. They often took so well to their second go-round at childhood that it was easy to forget that chronologically they were adults. Those who had Amazon relatives or friends might quietly agree that even if it wasn’t something Littles wanted, and that Maturosis was a lie, such accommodations might just be what was best for them. To Littles, this was a preview of a nightmare. Full stop. No further notes. Watching Littles act like babies online was tantamount to watching a snuff film. And to a select cross-section of the internet, it was Grade-A thrilling entertainment. “Hey,” the Little girl said, waving to the camera. “Hope this is going live.” Her neck craned forward. “Yeah. I think so. Light is on. Signal is going strong. Good. So..uh…” she cleared her throat. “Hi. Alexi here, and in case you haven’t guessed, my Alexicons-yeah I gotta get a better name for my fans- but in case you haven’t guessed, I’ve been adopted. No, no, no, this isn’t me signing off, do not hit that unsubscribe button! I’m doing the Amazon Escape Challenge.” Awkwardly, she flashed two thumbs up to the camera. Anyone who had viewed Alexi Live and any of her numerous Little-centric film, television, and book reviews, not to mention her Let’s Plays before would recognize that the Little was clearly off her game and uncomfortable. First timers who just stumbled onto the channel thanks to the algorithm might think she was a rookie at this sort of thing. The next thirty seconds, however, showed a bit of professionalism on her part. “So um...for those of you who haven’t been watching for the last three weeks, watching me prep, or who haven’t heard of it before, I’m doing the Amazon Escape Challenge. You get caught. You get adopted. Aaaaand you escape and tell everybody out there what it was like on the other side of the playpen. I didn’t start this challenge. That credit goes to Mini-Mimi and Tweener Tom, but just because I’m not the first doesn’t mean I can’t be the best.” Her monologue done, Alexi’s hands flopped to her side and she started gesturing and looking around in the crib. “So yeah. I let myself get caught at a local park. I was sucking my thumb and clutching onto a teddy bear, and that apparently was enough for somebody to want to adopt me. Antiope Argyros plucked me up, adopted me, and within the day had this whole nursery set up. Here, let me show you.” The camera’s view radically shifted as Alexi grabbed it and panned around the room. Through the wooden slats of the crib, viewers were treated to what could be called either a horror show or something so mundane as to be somewhat boring depending on the height of the viewer. “There’s the rocking chair where I sit in her lap and she reads stories while I drink from a bottle. Those shelves with the bins have toys; I haven’t played with them very much so they’re still quite organized. And of course, over there in the corner is the changing table.” The camera stayed in and zoomed in on the changing table, with stacks and stacks of diapers folded underneath with wipes, cream, and baby powder within easy reach up top. “Speaking personally,” Alexi narrated, “My family never had a changing table. Littles tend to potty train and grow up quick, so for my brothers and sisters and me my parents were like ‘Why buy something that they’re gonna grow out of in like two years?’. But I guess for Amazons it makes more sense, cuz...you know...they want babies who are never going to grow up.” The phone whipped around to show Alexi’s face. “Also I know it’s kind of hard to see from where we’re at, but there’s lots of different diapers stacked under there. Miss Argyros bought something like a variety pack of diapers, so there’s lots of different brands and designs and styles.” A hint of a blush rose in the girl’s cheeks. “She’s having me try a lot of different ones to figure out which ones work best for me...or her...or...oh you know.” Audio picked up another exhalation while she gave a final slow pan around the nursery. “The creepiest part is this room was an empty guest room until about five hours after I got caught. A bunch of men came in, Tweeners mostly with an Amazon boss, and they set it all up after just one phone call. How weird is that? Like, I don’t know which would have been weirder: For her to have a nursery all set up, or to just have an empty room and a service on speed dial to turn it into a nursery in less than a day. They even added in those sheep stencils and painted everything pink.” Back to her face, viewers saw Alexi’s eyes narrowed as she read comments trickling in. “How did I get my phone in? Oh yeah.” The camera whirled around to show a large pink fluffy teddy bear, head slouched and button black eyes dead to the world. “So this teddy had a zipper back and had enough stuffing in it, so I was able to hide my phone and charger in it ahead of time.” The camera showed Alexi’s hand pressing the bear’s stomach. “You’re my beeeeeest friend.” A deep goofy pre-recorded voice mumbled out. “I just had to stick my phone right next to the bear’s voice box and nobody noticed. Right now, I’m kind of using him as a camera stand. Which reminds me.” Viewers were treated to more shaking and rustling as Alexi readjusted the camera on top of the bear.. “So yeah. It’s been about two days since I got caught. I’m filming this now because I’ve learned that Miss Argyros likes to take a shower during what she thinks is my naptime. The walls here are pretty thick, but you can still hear the shower turning on and water moving through the pipes. So I’m pretty safe.” The streamer’s eyes darted on the screen, reading more questions and comments. “Okay. Sure.” The bloomer-like baby panties slowly went down to her knees and the blue of her baby dress contrasted more with the increasing scarlet of her flesh. “As you can see, I’m currently diapered. These are Monkeez, which is really weird, since that’s what I used to wear as a kid, just not as big.” The camera caught a decent shot of her trying unsuccessfully to peel the tapes away. “Also as you can see, the tapes are Amazon strength; so there’s no way I’m getting out of this without a box cutter or something sharp to cut through.” Her blush lessened as she yanked the faux panties back up over her hips, the very tip of the waistband still on display until she yanked the hem of her dress back down. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I have wet. Yeah. It’s super gross. Fortunately, as uh...Amazon-y as the lady who took me is, she’s at least very good about changing me when I say I need it.” Her blush doubled down as her eyes unfocused. “Not that I wanted to be changed and have another adult see me naked and wipe my butt for me, but she’s much better than the people at the daycare. You’d think that they were the ones paying for the diapers or something. They won’t change you if you’re not ‘wet enough’ or some junk.” A new light showed in the streamer’s eyes as the candle of thought and memory lit for her. “Oh yeah. I’ve already been put in daycare. I’m not gonna risk trying to smuggle my phone in that place. Too many eyes, and not just the people who work there.” She took a deep breath. “Lemme tell you guys, if you think it’s weird walking down the street and seeing a Little in a stroller, it’s even weirder when there’s two dozen of them, they’re all in diapers, and they’re all clearly loving it. Some barely talk, and the ones that do have totally bought into the lie; insisting that they’re babies. It’s bizarre. I’m pretty sure that at least one of them is old enough to be my dad or something.” Dramatically she rubbed her temples. “It’s really weird and frustrating, and on one hand I can’t imagine the kind of trauma those people have endured, and on the other hand it’s really gross when people start pooping their pants right next to everyone and won’t say anything about it because they want to finish watching cartoons.” Alexi tilted her head. “Oh yeah. That’s another thing. The cartoons. First off, they’re not hypnotic, not the ones at this daycare anyway, and they’re pretty good. Still, I’m kind of mixed feelings on this. Like, there’s almost an entire hour of ‘cartoon time’ at the daycare, it’s on their schedule and everything. And like...on one hand I’m glad not to have a giant hand poking it’s finger in my pants or someone trying to blow raspberries into my tummy or whatever, but it’s like...if these Amazons actually believed that we were babies, just plopping us down in front of a screen and walking out of the room…? How messed up is that?” Like a kid with her hand about to be caught in the cookie jar, Alexi’s head jerked around. “The water just shut off. Okay. Looks like shower time’s over. That means I gotta go, turn this off, and smuggle this back into my teddy bear!” She blushed and squeezed her legs together slightly. “Also...I kinda gotta pee, so I’m gonna have to do that real quick and then get changed.” Waving to the camera, she signed off. “Okay. Bye for now, Alexicons! Hopefully when you see me next, I’ll be back home safe and sound and in my big girl panties!” The view was blocked by the palm of her hand before the screen went black and the feed cut. ************************************************************************* The next stream a few days later was even more adorable and/or horrifying than the first. For starters, it didn’t take an eagle eye for viewers to spot the bottom of the diaper peeking out from underneath Alexi’s purple polka dotted sundress. “Hey there, Alexicons!” the second stream began. “It’s your girl, Alexi!” She let out an almost weary sigh. “So I’ve been like this for about a week, and I’m still here. Mommy’s got the house pretty much Little proofed, so I gotta think that if I’m gonna win the challenge, it’s going to have to be by getting out of the daycare. I told her that I was feeling sleepy so she plopped me back here in my crib. I’m not too worried about her catching me, though. She can’t resist her shows first thing after getting home from daycare. Who knew there was an Adoption Court reality show every weekday at four-thirty?” Alexi visibly shuttered. Without preamble, Alexi sat down, splay legged so that her subscribers got a good look at the bottoms of her black patent leather shoes and her diaper. The girl made no move to cover it up or adjust the hem of her dress. “I wasn’t quite lying. Daycare is...well..it’s work. The Grown-Ups are super condescending, calling all Littles babies, and treating us like we’re children. This one volunteer who fed me lunch in a highchair today came over from the local highschool. Kept trying to get me to eat mush by telling me it would help me grow up big and strong.” Dramatically, the streamer rolled her eyes. “I’m done growing, girl. I’m as big and strong as I’m gonna get and telling me otherwise isn’t gonna make me want to eat that jar of strained beets.” She huffed. “Amazons. Amiright?” Leaning in, her eyes focused and narrowed, reading the comments. “Guys. Guys, I’m sorry. Something must be wrong with my phone. I think it’s glitching. Unless a bunch of people are just smashing their keyboard, it’s getting hard to read what you guys are typing. Something weird must be going on.” Her eyes lit up with recognition before clouding over with dread. “Oh. One word is still coming loud and clear. ‘Diapers’.” With a weary sigh, Alexi started to talk about her uncovered underpants. “Yes. I’m still wearing diapers.” She lifted up the hem of her dress all the way to her bellybutton. As you can see, today’s model from the jumbo variety pack is a Koddles. It has Helga Hogg decorations. That’s the flat looking piggy on the landing strip. Personally, I prefer Jasper and Jinx, it’s one of the ones they show at daycare, and I think there’s something artistic about wordless storytelling. I don’t think they have Jasper and Jinx diapers, though.” Alexi paused and shook her head like trying to get cobwebs out of her noggin. “Anyways a feature of Koddles is a lot of them have this pee line going down the middle,” she indicated the yellow strip running between her legs. “That means anyone can tell when I’ve gone pee-pee because the color changes from this light yellow to a bright blue. As you can see, I’m very, very dry.” There was a bit too much pride in that statement. She let go of the hem of her dress, but the bulk of her diaper kept the Koddles well in sight and the hem bunched up in front. “I’ve had to get used to it of course. Daycare has scheduled changing times, so depending on the time I’ve had to go pee-pee and just learn to play and watch cartoons in a wet diaper. And well..” she wiggled uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s not that bad. The other thing though…” her face paled. “I’ve done it twice and didn’t like either time. I’m gonna have to get out before it happens too many more times, I think.” Still wiggling, the girl leaned back and kept talking to the camera in her crib. “I think my best chance to escape, like I said, is gonna be at daycare. Probably on the playground. Pretty sure that I can figure out a way to climb the fence. It’s chainli-” “Oh! That reminds me!” Alexi interrupted herself. “Weirdest thing happened on the playground today. We got a new kid...I mean a new Little checked into the daycare today, and for a second I thought it was Linked Up Lily! If you’re not subscribed to her channel, you should be, she’s totally an inspiration of mine, and I think she said she was going to do the Amazon Escape Challenge too.” A moment of screen reading and struggling to decipher and Alexi replied, “Um...no. I don’t think this was actually Lily. The Grown-Ups at daycare called her Liliana, which is close, but no cigar. She had a different haircut, too. Like her hair was waaaaaay shorter than Lily’s, and plainer too; Lily is super famous for her long and wild colored hair.” A beat.. “And more importantly, this Lily was totally mindf...you know, I can’t use the preferred term because I don’t want to get demonetized, but the people who know know.” Nervously, Alexi began biting at her nails. “You should have seen this poor girl. They got her bad. She was having a hard time walking, and it wasn’t just cause of the diaper; super uncoordinated. Needed help getting up the slide and such. And then right in the middle of everything, she was like running to the swingset, and she stopped, just froze, and um…” For the first time that stream, Alexi blushed. “She messed herself. Said it loud enough while she was doing it too.” A shudder served as transition between Alexi telling her story and idly biting her nails to full on sucking her thumb. Her unconscious squirming stopped and a relieved smile spread across her lips while they suckled on her thumb. Anyone staring at Alexi’s crotch would notice the wetness indicator on her diaper turning bright blue, leaving nothing in doubt about what was going on in the girl’s baby pants. A second later, Alexi’s eyes brightened and she seemed to come back to herself. “Anyways, I don’t think that was Linked Up Lily. Pretty sure anyways. I’m finding a lot of the cartoons here pretty neat though! I’m gonna have to get a subscription or something to watch them after I finish the challenge! The toys aren’t bad either! I’ve got this four option pop up jack-in-the-box type toy, with different animals, and they say different things depending on the order that you pop them up in, so there’s like...a whole bunch of things you can do with them. Really cool! I kind of wish I had had something like that when I was a baby the first time. I mean...” Alexi froze. “Uh oh! I don’t know if you can hear that stream, but footsteps are coming.” The stream was treated to her teddy bear’s pink underside while Alexi hurriedly hid her only link to the outside world. “Hello, Lexi!” a much deeper, matronly voice could be heard. “Oh. Hi Mommy!” “I heard a certain someone talking instead of taking a nap. Are you not tired anymore? You weren’t fibbing were you?” Viewers could hear a note of panic in Alexi’s voice. “No Mommy! Not at all. I’m not a fibber! I was just telling Pinky all about my day at daycare and all the new friends I’m making.” “Awwww,” the Amazon could be heard cooing. “How about you and Pinky come and watch cartoons in the living room for a bit?” “Okay!” The joy was spontaneous and genuine. Alexi wasn’t that good of an actor. The pink plush curtain was removed and the stream kept going for another two hours, with just a view of the mobile dangling above the crib. Those still tuning in finally got some new developments to the sound of a door squeaking open, and the faint sound of crinkling and humming. Then a gasp. “Oh no!” came Alexi’s whispers. Her face came back into full view as crib bars slipped by. “Uhhh...sorry guys. My Mommy came in and me and Pinky and her watched cartoons for a while. I was so good at watching them that Mommy sent me ahead of her so I could pick out my next diaper.” Just how infantile and bizarre that must have seemed was evidently lost on the girl. “Good-bye for now!” ******************************************************************************************** Two days later a new video was uploaded to Alexi’s UsBox channel. “Hey guys!” she waved to the imagined audience. “Just giving you an update! It’s the weekend and Mommy is talking to a friend of hers, setting up a playdate with one of her friends and their kid!” The camera panned around the nursery, this time without wooden bars. “As you can see, Mommy trusts me enough now that she’s leaving me in my room and letting me play as much as I want, though she leaves the baby gate up just in case.” She giggled uncharacteristically and stuck out her tongue. “Pinky is still in my crib. He’s my bedtime buddy, so I’m having to hold my phone all by myself like a big girl! On the bright side I found a good spot to recharge my phone right behind the diaper pail.” “Oh oh oh! I almost forgot! Have you seen my new diapers?!” She didn’t need to hold the camera back as far as she did for future viewers to get a good hard look at the plastic backed nappy taped around her hips. The (mostly) white decorated diaper was the only thing she was wearing beneath her light yellow t-shirt. Just in case, the video included what some might consider a less-than-tasteful shot of what was going on between her legs. “These are called You-Ni-Corns,” Alex said. “Cuz they have these pretty unicorn horse thingies all over them and they’re super comfy and pretty and Mommy says they’re made just for Little babies like me!” Experienced caregivers would also note that the diaper, while not overly discolored, did swell and sag a bit with bits of the sap bunching up and clumping together where they’d done the most work. Wet. But not in dire need of a change...yet. “I think I’m going to ask Mommy to get more of these cause they're super comfy and none of the other girls at daycare wear anything like them. Whether you’re a baby or a big girl or a Grown-Up, sometimes you don’t want someone wearing the same thing as you.” A silly smile spread on her lips. “At least you don’t have to go all the way home to change.” Gayly, she laughed at her own joke. “I won’t be reacting to the comments on this video,” she said, more seriously. “Something’s going on with my phone where I can’t read any of the words. I gotta get it fixed.” She tilted her head in thought. “Actually, I think it’s more than just my phone. The words in the books that Mommy reads to me every night are looking funnier and funnier.” She shrugged. “No big deal though. It’s more funnerer to listen to her read. She does all these silly voices for all the different characters and stuff.” From the camera’s point of view the room started bouncing with the girl. “Like there’s this one voice she does that sounds juuuuust like Momma Kangaroo in this one cartoon I just found called pocket pals where all the critters are marsupi-...marsh...they all have pockets that their babies get to ride in!, I gotta get her to watch it with me but they say it’s a special one that only good girls and boys at daycare can watch!” The next several words that came out of her mouth were so speedy and incoherent that it was nearly indecipherable over the loud crinkling that came with her constant jumping. Fans of the show who were still able to talk might recognize that she was describing the entire first season in all but one breath (albeit very much out of order). “And then Mr. O. Possum was like…like…” Alexi stopped. With her free hand, she grabbed the pacifier clipped onto her shirt and stuck it in her mouth. “Goffa..” she said. “Goffa go…” Her eyes stared into the distance, unfocused, and her cheeks puffed out like a bullfrog. With a long, heavy exhale, she groaned, and let out a soft smile. “Poofff” The girl’s eyes came back into focus with a blink and the color drained away from her face as the spark of recognition lit a fire beneath her. “I gotta go! Bye!” Comments would speculate that this was a deep fake. Others would guess that poor Alexi remembered how to upload videos through muscle memory and icon recognition; a pre-reading skill, they’d insist. Unfortunately for the Little girl, she hadn’t quite re-figured out how to edit out the part where she openly and flagrantly messed herself before posting. ************************************************************** “Hi everybody out there in internet land! It’s me! Lexi!” Canny recent viewers would notice that the Little streamer had her hands free and wasn’t in her crib. Even cannier voyeurs would realize based on the nursery’s geography that her phone was likely propped up on a lower shelf of the changing table, possibly leaning against a stack of diapers. Speaking of diapers, it could be argued on whether or not a purple t-shirt with frilly sleeves and a stiff rainbow colored tutu counted as a dress; it was indisputable that they did nothing to conceal the babyish undergarment. The knee high socks and velcro sneakers didn’t contribute anything to the girl’s modesty; that was for certain. “I just got back from daycare and they taught us this really neat dance that I wanted to show you! It’s called the tipsy wipsy dance! I’ll show you!” “First you take your hips and you get a little tips...eeeeeeee! Then you take your bowl and you stir it and stir it...one-two-three! And you flap your arms just like you’re a flying bird...eeeeeee! And you kick your feet and you sing a little song...do-ray-me!” Alexi’s dance might have been cute to the digital onlookers...if it had been anything remotely resembling a dance. The Little sang the song acapella, and amelodically. If there were steps to this “dance” they didn’t match the lyrics. They mostly consisted of Alexi jumping up and down and spinning in circles and shaking her rump for the cameras. “One more time!” “First you take your hips and you get a little…” she froze. She bent her knees. She clenched her fists up tight and stared at a point on the wall off camera. Alexi never was quite certain how big or small her viewers were; how many Littles, how many Tweeners, how many Amazons. Whoever they were, they got a good view of what came next: Brief popping, tooting sounds made their way to the camera’s microphone. What came next was evident to all who could see. Alexi had planted her feet so that her profile was in perfect view, and whether they were cooing, gasping, or cringing, every one of Alexi’s viewing audience got a front row seat of the back of her unicorn diaper expanding and drooping while red faced. Alexi huffed and grunted until at last… “Poopy!” It sounded almost celebratory. Shamelessly, Alexi started singing and dancing again, such as it was, her diaper bobbing along with every movement and gyrating motion she made. “And you flap your amrs just like you’re a flying bird...eeeee!” A giant figure came into focus in the background. “Is that someone singing the tipsy wipsy song?” her Mommy said from the other side of the room’s baby gate. Alexi threw up her hands. “Yeah! Mommy! Wanna do it with me?” Mommy carefully stepped over the babygate, her black hair and olive skin a contrast to the Little’s fair complexion and fairer hair. “Oh I don’t think so, baby girl. That’s a dance that’s best done by Littles. I’ll watch, though!” She sniffed. “Uh oh.” “Uh oh?” Alexi looked genuinely worried. “I think I’ve got a Little Lady Lexi who filled her diaper right up!” Mommy said. “Let me check.” She knelt down to one knee, taking her massive palm and cupping it to the Little’s bulging backside. “Uh oh. Yup! I definitely feel some poopy in there!” Rather than blushing, the Little girl giggled into her palm. “I’ve got a stinky baby on my hands! Let’s get you changed!” The ‘baby’ girl only gave more delighted giggles in reply. Mommy glanced over at the camera. A dark cloud gathered. “Lexi? What’s that?” “It’s my phone, Mommy!” Lexi said, cheerily. “I’m showing all my friends on the internet the dance I learned at daycare!” And just like that the sun came out. “Oooooh!” Mommy said. “Is my Little baby girl a streamer?” Theatrically, Lexi threw her hands into the air “Yesh!” “Awwwww! Isn’t that cute! Your friend Liliana from daycare used to have her own UsBox channel, too.” “Really?” Lexi squealed in delight. “Really, really! That’s what her Daddy told me. Now the only streaming she does are the pee-pees in her pants.” “Oh wow! That’s so cool!” Mommy chuckled. “Let’s get that stinky bum cleaned up, and later you can show me all the cute videos and streams you’ve recorded.” Lexi’s legs went out of view as her Mommy stood up and moved her on top of the changing table. “Really?!” she squeaked. “Really, really,” the Amazon cooed. “Hold on just a second.” The view blurred as it was whipped around and held over Lexi’s prone form. Not blushing at all, the girl waved from her spot on the changing table. “Hiiiii!” “That’s right,” the Amazon lady said. “Wave bye-bye to all your friends!” “Byyyyyyye!” The last thing the broadcast recorded was the sound of diaper tapes being ripped off. ********************************************************************************* “Hey everyone, Antiope Argryros here,” the Amazon waved at the camera. “Or as this precious Little one calls me, ‘Mommy’.” The camera panned over to a Little girl, her hair in blond ringlets laying on a forest green park bench. Bashfully, the girl smiled past the rubber teat of her baby bottle, waving to the camera. “Now I don’t know if you can tell just by looking, fam, but I’ve got a young lady who definitely needs a diaper change. Oh my goodness, you are so soaked! Aren’t you?” Lexi giggled. “Uh-huh!” She punctuated her sentence with a loud burp and finished downing the bottle full of juice. “All gone, Mommy!” “Good job!” the Amazon told her. “Now can you be Mommy’s special helper and hold her phone and talk to the people watching at home while Mommy changes your diaper?” “Sure!” the girl peeped. “I’m super good at this!” “I know you are!” The camera moved wildly to a close up of Lexi’s face. “Hi everybody!” she said over the sounds of her diaper coming undone. “It’s Lexi again! Mommy said that I’m too Little to be doing my own channel so she’s gonna be taking it over so I can do more ‘portant stuff.” No trace of irony, agony, dread, or disgust could be detected. “That way I got lots of extra time to play and cuddle and watch cartoons and play and figure out what flavor crayons are and learn new dances and play and watch cartoons and- Mommy! Cold!” “Don’t be naughty,” Mommy’s voice could be heard off screen. “I’m not gonna let you get a rash. The sooner I get you cleaned up the sooner you can go play. Keep talking.” “Yes ma’am!” Lexi adjusted her view to the camera. “So Mommy is getting me a bunch of new play outfits, and that’s really neat, but she also wants to get a bunch of different diapers for me, so like if I’m wearing a monkey outfit, I can wear Monkeez, and there’s these pink Hippo diapers for if I’m wearing pink- I mean the girl diapers are pink, boys have blue that’s super important- or if I’m gonna be her Little Piggy she’ll get me the Koddles with Helga Hogg. I still wish they had the Jasper and Jinx diapers, those’d be neat. But anyway, I really like my You-Ni-Corns, and as I was tryin’ to tell her, unicorns go with everything but she wouldn’t listen. Mommy’s, amiright?” “All done,” Mommy said, taking the phone away. “You can go play.” “Yay!” Wearing nothing but a teal t-shirt that stopped at her belly button, velcro light up sneakers, and a freshly taped diaper, Lexi waddled off the park bench and started for the playground where four or five other babies at or around her age were already at playing. “”I told her she wouldn’t get to go play until she finished her ba-ba,” Antiope winked at the camera. “Parenting hack.” Before she’d properly stepped onto the playground, the Little stopped. “Lexi? Are you okay?” her Mommy called out. As if in reply the tiny form bent her knees and clenched her fists. “Uh-oh. I know what this means.” With huge Amazonian steps, the camera whirled around to see a blank faced Lexi starting to puff her cheeks out. “Yup. Thought so.” The cell phone camera, this one Amazon made and designed, picked up the quiet grunting and moaning leaking out of Lexi’s lips. “Lexi, honey,” Mommy asked, not quite taunting. “I thought you wanted to go play on the playground with all of your Little friends.” The first reply came not out of the Little girl’s mouth but from her bottom as several rude noises reported out from behind her. Tiny toots and farts rang out so fast and clear that no one would mistake what she was doing. It was almost cute. “Lexi? Lexi, baby? What’s my baby doing out here on the sidewalk in front of everybody and the whole internet?” Another grunt. Another groan. Another muffled toot made to smell sweeter thanks to a fresh layer of baby powder. And finally a word from the Little chatterbox. “...Poopin’.” Viewers got the ‘treat’ of seeing the whole thing live as Lexi’s Mommy stepped around and got the perfect shot of the fresh diaper ballooning out. The effect was even more pronounced because of how fresh the diaper was. The camera caught as each and every crease was pressed and smoothed from the inside out. “Never fails,” Mommy clucked. “Put them in a clean diaper and they go and mush in it.” “All done!” “What was that?” Mommy asked. She stepped back around. “Can you say that one more time for all the people watching on Mommy’s phone?” The girl grinned, seemingly proud of herself. “All done!” Antiope let out a good natured laugh. “Awww, okay sweetie. You can go play, now.” The camera was treated to the sight of the Little waddling onto the playground, the lump in her backseat obvious even as she climbed up to the tiny slide. “She’s so precious.” After Lexi slid down, not even flinching at the spreading muck in her pants, her Mommy stepped in front of the camera, so that both her and her new baby could be seen. “So before we begin, I’d officially like to thank the creators of the Amazon Escape Challenge. I think it’s a really good way for Littles in need to find their Mommies and Daddies without feeling too scared or overwhelmed about the whole thing. I would encourage all Littles who think they’re independent and mature to test it out as either way I think you’ll be satisfied with the results and maybe even learn something about yourself.” Little viewers, assuming there were any, likely recoiled at the idea paired with the image of Lexi jumping on a teeter totter to play with another diapered and adopted Little. “For those of you worried about the change in format, don’t worry. This channel might be under new management, but you’ll still get to see lots and lots of Lexi. I might be the host but she’ll definitely be the star. Being a Little, she just doesn’t have the attention span to update this channel enough to make it really successful.” As if proving her point for her, the Little was already off the teeter totter, leaving her playmate whining and crying without her. She fell backwards onto her butt, but otherwise seemed unbothered as she picked herself up and toddled to the merry go round. “I’m gonna have to work on that…” She addressed the audience. “But see? Lexi isn’t going away. If anything you’re going to be seeing a lot more of her, while we show you fun games and songs and tricks for bath time and nap time to make everybody else’s life a lot easier. You’ll just see her as her true self, and not the Grown-Up she was pretending to be before I met her.” “We’ll have something for everyone,” Antiope continued. “If you’re a Little that doesn’t have a Mommy or a Daddy, you’ll see what you're missing out on. Or if you do, you can watch this with them and get ideas for play time and snuggles! If you’re a Tweener, I’m sure this will help convince you on how you can best help your Little friends or land that babysitting job you were hoping to get from the parents across the street.” The narration continued as the giantess strode onto the playground. “In fact, the only thing I think my lovely Little Lexi won’t be able to help you viewers at home on is potty training.” To herself she added. “Oh, we can do product reviews too. She was pretty good at that…” The aside ended at the top of Lexi’s head came into frame. “Okay, Lexi. I need to change your diaper again!” Like a kettle on boiling, giggles shrieked out from the Little’s throat and she waddled away. “Noooooooooo!” Any Amazon parent would infer that the adorable child didn’t really mean it. She just wanted to be chased. “Thanks for watching!” Antiope said. “Now if you excuse me, I’ve got a Little in a full diaper trying to escape!”

Adam and Freddie weren’t twins. Not really. They were born a little over a year apart though and both had inherited the same basic looks. Irish Twins it was called. Though neither Little had any idea who the Irish were, or how big they were compared to Amazons, both had the same light brown hair and square chin as their father, and a near total inability to grow a proper beard. Not quite identical, they could easily be mistaken for one another from a distance. When you got closer to them or examined them side by side, you could pick out the finer details. Adam had his mother’s green eyes while Freddie took after Dad with a dark brown. Adam had slightly leaner and slightly more muscular, muscular features. Freddie was softer and more rounded. Adam’s chest was a little bigger and so his voice was a bit deeper, too. Not much deeper; just enough that either brother would have to purposefully heighten or lower their pitch to an impression of the other. The final major difference between the brothers post puberty went unnoticed until they ended up having their diapers changed side by side and sharing a bathtub again. Freddie had gotten the good deal on that one. A night of drinking to celebrate Adam’s twenty-first birthday had gone upside down. They’d been caught together. Adopted together. The Amazon bartender had become their ‘Daddy’. He’d been right. Little boys really shouldn’t ought to have been drinking in bars. Neither had been able to figure out how the Amazon had managed to slip something into their bottles of beer. Since last week the only bottles they were getting had rubber nipples at the end of them. They were sitting in their playpen, each wearing navy blue sailor tops and matching hats, complete with cute black tassels. Other than that, they were naked with only thick white disposable diapers covering their bottoms and nothing on their feet. This was every Littles worst nightmare, even if it was a statistical probability. According to reports on ‘Maturosis’ almost every Little family had someone in their tree with Maturosis expressing itself. If you had a sibling, chances are one of you would end up back in diapers sometime after puberty but long before senility. The Amazons used such statistics to prove the validity of their pseudo-science. Littles in the know saw it for what it was: A flex. Don’t try to avoid being pushed back into the nursery; it was inevitable. Back when they were growing up and shared a bunk bed, the brothers had fantasized about what they’d do if one of them ever got caught; usually with the fantasy ending with the free one being the hero and busting his brother out of there through cunning and guile. Neither had imagined that they’d both get scooped up, held down and depantsed. Such fantasies were for kids anyways. Both of them were all done growing up, now. “Ugh,” Freddie groaned, clutching his stomach. “Not again…!” He put his bottle to the mat, and shifted from his bottom onto all fours. Adam put his down, too, but remained seated. “Aw, come one Freddie.” “Can’t...help...it…” Freddie’s words turned into low mumbling groans as the back seat of his diaper ballooned out and Freddie filled up his non-existent pants. Adam looked away, and pretended the world outside the white mesh of the playpen was more interesting than it was. He kept drinking the white sloshy milk, hoping that the sound of his own suckling would mask Freddie’s groans, or crinkling of his diaper, or the bodily noises coming out of his older brother’s backside. He looked back over at Freddie when the noises stopped and his breathing came out as tired puppy-like panting. The boys had been potty trained at about the same time. Their parents had wanted to get rid of diapers altogether in one stroke. Adam used to think that that meant he was potty trained early. Now, he thought it meant that Freddie had been trained too late. Only one of them had any memories of pooping their pants, and Freddie was picking the habit back up like riding a bike. That wasn’t fair, Adam told himself. It wasn’t his big brother’s fault. Nor did Adam have much room to brag. His diaper was just as wet as Freddie’s, bulging out from the pressure of the pulp expanding so much. The Little-Ade their Daddy kept giving them in the mornings somehow overhydrated them; made them feel like they needed to pee constantly and holding it for more than a few minutes at a time was nearly unbearable. It was like what being sloshed did to your bladder, but without the fun part of being drunk. “Here you go my Little waterspouts,” Daddy would say as soon as they were changed first thing in the morning. The diapers didn’t stay dry for long. Whatever was in the ‘milk’ Daddy gave them wreaked similar havoc on their guts. It filled them up enough to where come lunchtime they could feel full with just a jar of baby food, but it also made them gassy as anything; and it was hard to get out of their system. “Two babies need burping,” Daddy would proclaim. It seemed to affect Freddie much harder. Adam’s guts were grumbling too, but he had enough control, pain tolerance, and stubbornness to hold back. At least he wouldn’t ‘assume the position’ right away. The sound of his big brother suffering drew their new Daddy’s attention. “Uh oh. Did my baby boys make a present for me?” He reached down and patted Freddie on the behin. “Yup. There’s a nice present.” He repositioned Freddie back into a sitting position. He stuck the half-finished bottle back in Freddie’s mouth. Freddie had no choice but to grab hold of both hands and keep suckling. “That’s my good boy.” He walked around the perimeter of the playpen and pulled back the waistband of Adam’s diaper. “Nope, not yet.” He patted Adam on the top of his head. “We’ll get there.” Adam shuddered at that. “Finish your ba-bas boys. Then Daddy will burp you and change you if you need it.” ‘If you need it’: Translation, they’d only get their diapers changed if both of them had pooped. Dude had a twin fetish or something. There wasn’t a better word for it. They had to be identical, or at least close enough, to get any kind of relief. They weren’t ‘finished’ unless both of them drained their bottles. They didn’t ‘need’ their diapers changed unless both were soiled or close to leaking. “Come on, Adam,” Freddie whispered when the Amazon walked away. “I don’t wanna get a rash. Daddy might not even use cream unless you need it too.” Adam clenched his teeth. “I hate that you call him ‘Daddy’.” “What else am I supposed to call him?” Freddie had a point. The bald headed bartender hadn’t worn a nametag or told them any other name to call him except for ‘Daddy’. Adam had tried several other choice names for him, but Daddy doubled up on spankings too, resulting in both brothers getting rosy red cheeks even though only one of them had opened their mouth. “Okay,” Adam sighed. “Fine. Just...gimme a second.” He finished downing the milk and then pulled himself up to a standing position. If he was going to shit himself, he wasn’t going to do it on his knees. There was some dignity in that, or so he rationalized. The mounting cramps made it easy to grunt and work through. His body wanted the release, even if his mind trembled at the realization. Adam bent his knees, closed his eyes and grabbed onto the top of the railing. He let out a strained grunt as he pushed the first mess of the day into his seat.. He felt his cheeks widening and spreading, as the first turtle head poked out. Another push and gravity combined with bodily inertia did the mess. His diaper was sagging enough that he didn’t really feel the first bit; it almost didn’t touch him, instead dropping to the very bottom of his plastic backed prison. It was almost like going in a toiled. The second and third pushes were harder on him. There was no getting around what he was doing then. Adam had no memories of potty training. No younger cousins either, the sensation of pooping in his clothes was utterly alien to him. Finally done, Adam sat down, squishing the lumpy mess. He hadn’t even opened his eyes when he asked. “How do real babies do it?” “We are real babies,” Freddie said. “That’s why we’re going potty in our pants. Adam didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Daddy had doubled back. That’s the only reason Freddie would be talking like that. Sure enough, the Amazon had been keeping close tabs on them. “Looks like I’ve got two widdle sailor babies who need their poop decks swabbed,” he chuckled. Again, he reached down and peeked down the back of their underwear. “Let daddy check! Yup! Good Little sailors. Let’s get you changed.” “Yes, Daddy,” they said. The giant had a thing for them talking in unison. His arms were big and strong enough that he could pick them both up at the same time and carry them over to the changing mat he’d laid on the floor. The wipes and two identical diapers sat stacked, waiting for them. “Hi diddly dee, a sailor’s life for me,” he sang. If he could have pulled the adhesive tapes off of their diapers at the exact same time, he likely would have. He settled for one right after the other. “Swabbin’ the poop deck. Swabbin’ the poop deck.” He finished balling up their ruined diapers and slid the replacements under them before he said anything that wan’t complete nonsense to them. “I hope you two are ready for a big day tomorrow,” Daddy said while powdering Adam’s bottom. “Because one of you is going to daycare tomorrow.” The brothers looked at each other. One of them? He shifted and did the same to Freddie’s backside. “I wanted to enroll both of you in public daycare,” he said, “but when I told them I had twins, they offered to pay me money to just send one of you.” “Why?” Freddie asked. Daddy looked at Freddie’s crotch and then pulled the fresh diaper up. “Oh it’s not because you’re bad, Freddie. You’ve both been very good boys this week. Very good.” Adam was next. “But twin Littles with the same Mommy or Daddy? That’s super rare. So they wanted to do a study.” “We’re not twins!” Adam yelped. For crying out loud! The guy had checked both their ID’s and seen the different birthdates. The boys’ ability to speak lasted only as long as it took Daddy to finish pressing on the tapes of Adam’s diaper. Then they both got pacifiers shoved into their mouths. With a click and a turn of a knob, the rubber teats ballooned out, gagging both Littles and making it impossible for them to spit out. “Close enough,” the giant replied. “So one of you gets to stay with Daddy, and the other gets to go to New Beginnings. Isn’t that neat?” Gagged by their pacifiers and still laying down, both brothers looked at each other, afraid they’d be the one to go to. The next day it was settled by a coin flip. Freddie lost. ************************************************** Adam’s first day of infancy without his big brother was good; as good as perpetual infancy could be: Peeing and pooping in his pants, being bottle fed and burped, and pretending to be interested in bead mazes were quickly becoming par for the course. If there was a downside it was that he was the sole focus of Daddy’s attention for close to eight hours; a downside that was quickly negated by the fact that he didn’t have to wait for Freddie to be in a similar state or express similar needs in order to get fed or changed. It was the closest thing to independence that the Little had gotten to experience since being adopted. “How was my Little guy today?” Daddy asked the lady who brought Freddie up to the car. “Freddie was positively an angel,” She said, buckling Freddie into his carseat. “We did mostly diagnostics today, but I think we’ll find his developmental plateau very shortly. Isn’t that right Freddie.” Adam’s brother mutely nodded, even though no pacifier gagged him. Satisfied, Daddy turned on the Ruffy playlist loud enough so that the two Littles could converse without being understood. “How was it?” Adam asked. “What happened in there?” Freddie looked thoughtful. “Goo-goo-ga-ga,” he said. Adam blanched. “What?” “I said it was goo-goo-ga-ga.” Freddie repeated. Adam felt a tinge of relief. Freddie could still talk. “What the…” he saw Daddy’s ears prick up and lowered his voice. “What does that mean?” Freddie looked annoyed. “What do you mean ‘what does that mean?’ I said it was goo-goo-ga-ga.” “Bro. Say what you said again. Slowly.” With deliberate slowness, Freddie repeated himself. “It. Was. Goo. Goo. Ga. Ga.” Freddie’s eyes opened with realization. He clearly hadn’t been hearing himself before. “What the…? ! What did I just say?” Adam’s mind started racing. “What did you do today?” Freddie started to babble incoherently. “Blaga-mak-tak-urgle.” The poor boy looked down his noise as if his mouth had betrayed him. The look of panic was growing in his face. “Ug-ug-goo-goo!” “Quick,” Adam said. “What’s your name?” “Freddie.” The tension was palpable. “How old are you?” “Twenty-two.” “What’s my name?” “Adam.” “What’s three times four?” “Twelve.” “What’s the name of the daycare you went to today.” “Marma-goo.” Freddie gasped. A full chorus of ‘Wheels on the Bus’ passed before either one spoke again. “I can’t do it,” Freddie said. “I can’t talk about Fafafafafa-murg.” So they didn’t… Whatever was going on in that place was bad enough that the first thing they did was silence the Littles who went there. ******************************************************************* The topic of New Beginnings was easy enough to avoid. Neither one wanted to particularly talk about their day. Not much point in catching each other up if it was one sided and unpleasant on both ends. So, Freddie would be dropped off. Adam would spend the day with Daddy. And in the afternoons and evenings, they’d try to find something to talk about when Daddy wasn’t listening. Old Movies. T.V. shows. Girls they used to beat off to. Anything. Despite their attempts to remain sane, cracks were starting to form for Freddie though. The third day he was brought back, the lady gave Freddie a tickle, a light one. His eyes looked panicked and scared, but the rest of his face smiled and giggled as though he were delighted. “My baby boy sure loves making friends with all the other babies!” Freddie tried to disagree. At least that’s what Adam hoped he was doing when he started sputtering babble the first two minutes of the car ride. ****************************************************************************** Things got worse at “dinner” the next night. “Heeeere coooomes the birdy! Tweetie tweetie tweet-tweet!” The spoonful of green mush darted into Adam’s mouth. His mouth contorted into a frown. Bits of the slime accidentally dribbled out from his lips and down his chin as he did his best not to gag. There was more than just bland vegetables in that spoon. “Mmmmm-mm-mmm-mmm!” Freddie’s face was likewise contorting, but his lips went up instead of down. Daddy reached over and dabbed Adam’s face. “Swallow, baby boy.” Freddie’s eyes clouded over for a second, and he swallowed.. “Good baby!” When his eyes unclouded the two brothers looked at each other from their highchairs. Adam made himself swallow, too. ************************************************************************* “What happened to you in the highchair?” Adam asked that night in the stillness of their nursery. In the pale of the night light, Adam saw his brother frown. “What are you talking about?” “Daddy was feeding us that mush and you swallowed it.” “So did you.” Freddie sounded more than a bit defensive. “Yeah, but like...you didn’t spill a drop.” “I had to.” “Why?” “Cuz Daddy said so.” This was said with such certainty, that Adam thought Freddie hadn’t heard himself again; another programmed response, like the panicked laughter or the babbling. Adam wasn’t sure where to go with that. When it had been so quiet that Adam worried if his brother had fallen asleep, Freddie said. “I’m glad that it was me going to murka durk.” The younger brother’s blood ran cold. “You like it there?!” Freddie started to babble and then stopped. He spoke with more deliberate slowness. “What I mean is...better me than you.” Adam’s heart jumped up into his throat. “Why would you say that?” “Because I’m your big brother, stupid.” Freddie whispered. “I’m supposed to take care of you. So if that means I go…” he stopped. “Better me than you is all.” Tears not born of diaper rash or a broken toy, started to form in Adam’s eyes. “Thanks bro. I appreciate it.” Silence again. Then. “Adam?” Adam picked his head up off the pillow. He’d finally been about to drift off into oblivion. “Yeah?” “I am the big brother...right?” “Of course, dude.” “Good.” Adam didn’t feel like the younger brother when he looked over. Freddie had drifted right off to sleep… He was sucking his thumb. *********************************************************************** When they were both in Daddy’s living room, he’d often change them side by side. First thing in the morning, though, he’d clean them up on the changing table in their shared nursery. “Such a heavy wetter, my baby boy Adam is!” Daddy proclaimed. Adam laid still on the changing table, allowing the giant to casually violate him. “You really need your diapers, don’t you?” Adam made no reply. For all intents and purposes he was a corpse as he was stripped, wiped, powdered, rediapered, and then shoved into a romper. Plopped back in his crib, he had an almost front row seat for Freddie’s change. Freddie did not lay still. Nor was he silent. Instead of thrashing and kicking and screaming like they both had at first, he lightly kicked his legs and wiggled and cooed. “Someone’s a squirmy wormy.” “Yes Daddy.” “Good baby!” he said, untaping Freddy’s soiled diaper. Freddie lightly kicked his legs and reached for and batted at the mobile above the changing table. He giggled and cooed while he was wiped. If Adam hadn’t known any better, he’d have sworn that his big brother was an actual baby. “Thank you very much for the present,” Daddy beamed, balling up the mess and tossing it in the nearby pail. “Daddy loves it when you make him presents.” “Do it cause Daddy said so!” It came out half panicked and almost robotically, but it made the Amazon smile. “Thaaaaat’s right.”Freddie sucked his thumb and gurgled around it through the rest of his change. Overcome with anxiety, Adam started to bite his fingernails. Daddy turned his head and saw. “Looks like I've got two Little boys just munching on their hands! It’s gonna be a good day!” ************************************************************************* One afternoon, while Daddy was watching TV, Adam smelled one of the rankest stenches he could yet remember. He looked up from the toy xylophone Daddy had put in, debating on whether or not to try it and saw Freddie on his back, his legs lifted up to his stomach. “Freddie?” “I like to poop my pants.” The wrinkle in Adam’s nose turned into a full blown snarl. “What did you just say?!” Freddie strained briefly. “I like to poop my pants.” He gave a final, tired sigh and then lowered his legs. Not a hint of blush or embarrassment was on Freddie’s face. They were both in footed one-pieces, but Adam didn’t need to see the back of Freddie’s pants to know he’d filled it. The smell alone was enough. “I’m sorry, bro,” Adam said. “I...don’t have to go right now.” He was breathing short gasps through his mouth. “That’s okay.” Freddie said. He up, no doubt spreading the foul smelling mush even further. “I like it.” “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” Adam asked. “I like to poop my pants.” The younger brother had no idea if Adam was telling the truth or just echoing a conditioned response. “Maybe if you cry loud enough?” Thumb already in his mouth, Freddie used his free hand to pick a plastic mallet off the playpen floor. “Good babies don’t bother Daddy. He decides when we need our diapees changed. We should just play with our toys like good babies.” The infantile vocabulary. The simplicity and certainty; like reading from a script. It was almost too much for Adam. Through gritted teeth and locked jaw, he leaned over and hissed, “You’re. Not. A. Baby.” Freddie’s eyes clouded over. “Daddy says so.” He whacked the xylophone with all his might. The resultant shockwave sent both of them into rolling giggle fits. It was one of those toys! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! DING! “DO! IT! CUZ! DADDY! SAID! SO! Freddie was spasming on the floor rolling, yet managed to keep striking the toy. Adam rolled on the floor, cackling. It wasn’t a happy feeling, precisely. He felt the surge of adrenaline and excitement; along with an almost drunken giddiness, but the surge of chemicals flooding his brain at that moment was something like a tickle. Adam shoved his fingers in his mouth, doing his best to muffle the manic laughter flowing out of him. Too Little, too late, it seemed: Daddy stood over them looking down in the playpen. “Oh! There’s my favorite hand munchers! Eating their fingy sammiches! Giggly boys too!” He reached down and dug his fingers into Adam’s sides. “Gigg-i-ly, gigg-i-ly, gigg-i-ly! The younger of the two called out, begged even. “Daddy! No!” Too late. Adam’s face contracted in that same rictus grin- the one that didn’t come close to reaching his fearful eyes- that was on Freddie’s face almost every day after daycare. It was uncomfortable to the point of pain, but he laughed all that same. Tickling. They were tickling his brother’s brain. Speaking of tickling, the involuntary spasms extended deep inside of Adam. As it turned out, he had a present for Daddy. It just needed more teasing out. “Let’s get you two rascals changed.” Both lied there on the changing mat as snaps came unpopped and diapers were exposed. Freddie wiggled and stuck his fingers in his mouth, gurgling idly, stimming while Daddy undid his diaper and wiped his privates for him. Exhausted and feeling traumatized, Adam did the same. Except he jammed his fingers into his mouth to stop from screaming, and his wiggling was more twitching due to a sudden surge in adrenaline that dropped into exhaustion. Daddy didn’t seem to care. ************************************************************* “Okay boys,” Daddy said. “Are you ready to be potty trained?” A gleeful, malevolent grin, Daddy placed the plastic potty down on the floor. Both boys were naked save for their diapers. “What?” Adam said. “Are you serious?” If he hadn’t peed fifteen minutes ago, he might have wet himself in surprise. “Of course.” Daddy replied. “If you’re ready.” Adam looked to Freddie, wondering if this was some kind of trap. Freddie didn’t seem to see his brother, though. His eyes weren’t glazed over this time, just somewhere else. There was fear in those eyes., real, heart pounding breathtaking fear. “All you have to do is go potty.” The younger brother heard the older brother’s gasp. It wasn’t a happy one. Freddie was breaking out into a sweat. “Both of us?” He asked. “Nope.” Daddy shook his head. “No twinning this time. If either one of you shows me you know how to go potty, that’ll let me know you’re ready to grow up.” Adam saw Freddie. He was shaking. “If your Maturosis isn’t severe enough, you can wear big boy pants...” Freddie lowered down to his knees. “...grow up...” Freddie lowered further and moved to all fours. “...go to big boy school...” Freddie stuck his bum in the air and scrunched up his face. Adam watched, expecting the back to balloon out, but nothing was coming. Freddie was empty. “...maybe even drink one day!” “I like to poop my pants!” Daddy tilted his head. “Are you sure, Freddie? Don’t you want to try to go potty? Even a tiny bit?” The older brother shook his head. “No! I like to poop my pants!” It looked like Freddie was saying a magic word that wasn’t working. “I like to poop my pants!” “Pleeeeease?” Daddy smirked.“Won’t you at least try? For me? For Daddy?!” One slow limb at a time, Freddie crawled to the plastic potty chair there in the middle of the living room floor. His head jerked backwards away from the bowl and his breathing became fast enough to be audible. Two incompatible commands had been put into Freddie’s brain and they were fighting over control of his body. To Adam it seemed like an invisible dog leash had been roped around his brother’s neck and he was slowly but surely being dragged towards the object. “Nnnn…I….nnn….like...nnnn...to poop….my...nnnn….pants!” As he got closer to it, the frightening giggles that he broke out into failed to disguise the waves of pure terror he was feeling. “Haaaahaaahahaha!” “Here,” Daddy said. He picked Freddie up. “Let me help you.” Freddie thrashed and screamed harder than even the night they were taken by Daddy. “NOOOOO! Bagaagagagagagwwaaaaa!” “All you have to do is sit on the potty. You don’t even have to use it. Just sit!” That only made the older sibling bawl harder. He wasn’t on the rim for even a second before springing up and dropping back down to all fours. He screamed as if the potty had been made of red hot iron. “I LIKE TO POOP MY PAAAAAANTS!” The rest was incoherent babble. Daddy picked Freddie back up and soothingly rubbed his back. “There there, baby boy.” He said. “You’re not ready for the potty, and that’s okay. And at twenty-two if you’re not ready now, you’ll never be ready. Isn’t that right.” Freddie nodded his head. “Buh-buh-buh-buh-muuuuuuuuh!” From his spot on the floor, Adam saw Daddy give Freddie a pacifier. Freddie mumbled and sucked on it. No inflating bulb was required. “There there,” Daddy said. “There there.” Adam looked up and started to push the waiting mass in his diaper. It was weird doing it on his hands and knees, but he was quickly getting used to it. Daddy noticed. “Adam?” He asked. “Are you going poopy?” Adam felt like sobbing. “Uh-huh.” “Do you want to try sitting on the potty?” The world was getting blurry. “No…” Not if it meant leaving Freddie behind. Not if it meant outpacing his brother. He was self sabotaging and he knew it. Adam didn’t know if he could live with the guilt. He could live like this though. The last few weeks had proven that. “That’s fine, kiddo. It’s okay to not be ready, either.” Adam was given a condescending pat on the head and a pacifier. This was all a sham, Adam told himself. Daddy would never actually want them to sit on the potty. He’d never let them potty train again. He was just checking on how far Freddie’s brainwashing had progressed. His poor brother was more than eager to defecate himself and seemed absolutely terrified of so much as sitting on a toddler’s toilet, even with the diaper on. Point of fact, though, Daddy was checking on both of their progress. One cried loudly and needed the pacifier to calm himself. The other wept softly, but used the pacifier for much the same reason, even if the emotions involved for either were infinitely more complex than just a child’s need to self soothe. Neither one expressed an interest in potty training or put up much of a fight in getting changed or being fed. ************************************************************************* “Come on, Adam!” Daddy stood on his knees, gesturing for Adam to come closer. “Come to Daddy. That’s it! That’s it!” Adam crawled- hand, knee, hand, knee- all the way over to Daddy. He didn’t even try to walk. Freddie had lost the ability to walk almost two weeks back. At most, he could pull himself to a standing position, but the moment he let go he’d lose balance and fall back down. Adam followed suit. The xylophone had made it easier. Whatever frequency it was on did something to fuck up his inner ear but good. Now Adam was almost as helpless in that department as Freddie. He’d made sure to do it plenty of times during his mornings alone with Daddy. He didn’t want Freddie beating him to tummy time. He could have walked, he supposed, but Freddie became visibly upset seeing his brother walk without him. The masking laughter only applied to what happened with the Amazons, it seemed. Freddie was allowed to cry when Adam did something upsetting. Adam could have just walked when Freddy wasn’t home, but he wasn’t going to have anything ‘special’ or ‘secret’ with Daddy. So he crawled. “There’s my little crawler! Good thing I’ve got the whole place baby proofed, huh! Dejectedly, Adam nodded. “Buh-buh-ugh.” Neither of the boys were talking much these days. Whatever they were doing in that hellhole was expanding to more and more topics than just the daycare. Freddie could reliably say a few words, like a ‘pee-pee’ or ‘poopy’ (he was starting to announce when he was doing it now), and of course ‘Daddy’, but everything else was touch and go to the point of Freddie being incoherent. Adam had stopped talking, too. In his head he had developed a warped kind of game. It wasn’t a game he’d consciously decided on, or one where he understood the rules, but at three weeks out, it was a game that was slowly building up inertia. To actually use his words would feel like a failure. It was getting easier and easier not to talk, but to just babble. Laugh when he was scared. Cry when he was angry or sad or wanted something. Say nonsense syllables when he wanted to remember what his own voice sounded like. Eventually, he imagined, he might forget that using actual words is an option for him. Daddy seemed happy enough with the arrangement. “You and your brother are doing so good, Adam!” Daddy beamed. “After the experiment is over, you can go to daycare with him! Won’t that be nice? You can spend all day together!” He added, “And I can get back to my job…” Adam giggled at that. Finally! An end to this pain would be coming. No more guilt “Wanna know a secret?” Daddy cooed. “Bad people are saying that Littles only turn into babies because of how places like New Beginnings treat them. They think we turn you into babies. But that’s not true! Is it?” Adam couldn’t disagree more. His cynicism came out as excited laughter, just like his brother. “There are people who thought you two would have extremely different developmental plateaus! Thought that you might start to grow up if you didn’t go to daycare with your brother. But you’re never growing up! That’s just not what Littles do! And you and your brother are proof of it! Isn’t that wonderful?” The boy laughed because he was too emotionally drained to cry.“Buh-buh-buh.” “I think someone has earned a diaper change and a nice nap. Then when you wake up, we’ll go pick up your twin!” “Uh-uh-muuuuuh.” “Close enough.”

I am republishing this after pulling it down to comply with the terms of the Amazon KDP program. If you enjoy it, this is available in a two pack along with 'Undercover Tour' that's a companion story. That is available for purchase here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09XZR9SB9 Please consider purchasing it to support my writing efforts! I FOLLOWED MY dad through the portal and winced as I passed through. It was a weird sensation, and my eyes felt like they were blinded as I came through the other side. Blinking for a moment, I saw my dad standing over beside a giant woman along the woman holding a card saying ‘Diamond Tours.’ I couldn’t help but stare at the huge woman standing over my dad as I made my way toward him. I walked over to him and stood just behind him nervously. I didn’t notice my mom was behind me for a moment. “This is my wife Carrie and my daughter Lily,” he told the giant woman. I watched her check off some boxes on the list for us. “Great! Give us just a few more minutes for the rest of your tour group to get here, and we’ll get moving to the hotel to get you all checked in for your two-week tour!” “Great!” my adventurous dad said. I looked around at the gathering group of people from our dimension who had all come to tour this fantastic new world. All of the advertisements we had received said that it was a wondrous place of advanced technology, beautiful sights, and huge people. As the brochure had said, the ‘Amazons’ were the most advanced race in existence. As people came through the portal, I noticed nervously that they didn’t look like I remembered seeing them standing in line. Some were shorter than they had been. I started at that and looked back at my parents. ‘What happened? My head used to come up to Dad’s nose… I’m not even as tall as his chest now! Mom was taller than dad now, which was weird because she’d always been shorter than him… No other teenagers had been in line with us to come on this trip. You had to be at least fourteen to come accompanied by a parent through the portal and eighteen or older by yourself. I had just turned eighteen, but as I looked around at the imposing size of everything visible right where we were, I couldn’t imagine coming there on my own! “Okay, I think that’s everyone!” The lady said. “My name is Grace, and I’ll be your tour guide with Diamond Tours. We’re so glad that you’ve chosen us to guide you through our world! We’re going to have to get through the customs area next. No matter what, be sure you never wander away from our group.” “What happens if we do?” One man who was kind of handsome off to the side asked. I looked at him and my dad and noticed he seemed shorter than my dad and maybe even me... “We’re not responsible or able to protect you in that case. Be warned, our world is very different than yours. If you wander off, you’ll be seen as a normal Little and subject to our laws.” The man in the suit smirked, and I suddenly decided his looks were his only asset. He struck me as both an idiot and an ass! “Whatever,” he said. “Any other questions?” She asked, annoyed. I felt myself shake my head along with the others. I just couldn’t get over the size of her! It looked like I had shrunk some, I had heard it was possible, but the lady was huge! Dressed comfortably in a pantsuit, her hair was pulled back behind her face, and some blingy earrings hung from her ears. I stared at her a little longer and couldn’t help but wonder what her clothing sizes must be! My head was smaller than her breasts, and I was sure they had to be significant in size even by their world’s norms. I sighed a bit as I, unfortunately, got my mom’s genes, and only with some extra stuffing could I fully fill my B cups. More than once in school, I had been teased in the locker room that a training bra would be more appropriate! I sighed, knowing it was the truth. I followed the crowd to a large security desk that made me feel like I was about three years old with its height. A man was checking our passports and stamping visas one at a time. I noticed that he was only maybe chest-high to our tour guide but still way taller than us. “He must be a Betweener,” my dad said quietly to me. “She’s so big!” I whispered back with a shake of my head. “Should be so cool to see their world,” he said while putting his arm around my shoulder. “You definitely shrank when you came through; I haven’t been able to do this in a while,” he told me. I blushed, knowing how I was smaller now, probably than I’d been since I’d been ten? Nine? “Passport?” The man asked as I approached. I passed it to him, and he looked at it, “Just turned eighteen, huh?” “Yesterday,” I agreed. “Well, belated happy birthday then!” He said as he stamped the visa in the passport. “You’re registered as a tourist and have a two-week visa. Take care that you do not overstay that without getting authorized to do so.” “Yes, sir,” I told him and once again noticed that you could probably stack two of me and not reach his height, and he was shorter than the guide! We were led through the terminal, which really looked like an average airport. Well... except for the giants roaming around and the occasional baby they would be holding. All of them seemed to think cute was the best fashion for them. Their dresses, rompers, or onesies appeared to be all made to make their babies look more adorable than the ones back home. I stopped for a second, though, as I realized that one of the moms was breastfeeding their baby boy. I had always thought mothers were so lucky to feed their babies and looked forward to nursing my own baby someday. As I stared, though, I noticed something was off. While I would expect babies to be built bigger for these giants, I didn’t expect them to be bodybuilder-sized! That baby literally had bigger muscles than the captain of our football team back home! ‘Whoa,’ I couldn’t help but think. A hand latched onto my wrist and said, “Lily come on, we need to keep up,” Mom said. I shook my head and joined her in catching up to our group that wasn’t too far away. We all had our luggage with us already and were led to some gigantic buses. I noticed a height gauge on a pole by the waiting area for the bus and walked to it curiously as we waited for the guide to talk to the driver. I looked in shock at the mark at eye level for me… or rather slightly below the top of my head. I looked to be just a bit over four feet tall now. “I shrank that much?” I said in surprise. Mom came closer, and I noticed that she was right at six feet tall now… Lucky her, she’d gained a few inches in the portal. Dad had been six-feet four inches and now appeared to be only a bit over five-and-a-half feet tall! “Nice to finally be the tall one in the family!” Mom said with a smirk as she hugged us both. I saw other people going through similar states of shock as the tour guide came off the bus and said, “Okay, I know that some of you have experienced some changes in height on your trip. Our world is larger than yours, so some of you may inadvertently have shrunk to a size that requires different seating arrangements. As you come by the pole, I will give you a wristband that will help us keep track of your needs throughout your visit. My colleague Dara is on the bus and will help you get situated.” She paused, “I know it may come as a shock to some of you, but we ask that you cooperate as we are only following the law. Failure to abide by those laws means we will terminate our contract, and you will have to find your own way in this world… something I wouldn’t recommend.” I gulped and wondered what she really meant. We were closest to the pole, and she motioned for us to come by. Mom was given a glance and nodded onto the bus without anything for a wristband like they’d said. Dad was behind me and had an arm on my shoulder as the lady looked at me. “Hmm…” she thought for a second while intrusively flattening my hair. “You’re just past the marks!” I noticed then that there were some colored marks on the pole. Pink was just below my scalp. Purple was well above my head at five feet, and six feet was a black mark that traveled up the pole. Finally, she secured a purple wristband onto my wrist with ‘Diamond Travel’ and the letter ‘T.’ “All set,” she told me with a smile and turned her attention to Dad, who motioned me forward. I climbed onto the bus - which wasn’t easy given the stairs were enormous! As soon as I reached the top, the lady grabbed my wrist and looked at my armband. Then, she turned and asked, “That’s your daughter?” to my mom. She nodded, “Yes, that’s my little girl.” “She definitely is little!” The woman said as she grabbed something from an overhead bin and situated it next to Mom. It took me a moment, but I realized it was a rear-facing car seat like my cousin’s two-year-old daughter had just outgrown. It was huge, though! Before I had a chance to think about why she had set that there I found myself in the air, being picked up and sat down inside it. “What are you doing?” I found myself saying with mom in unison. “She’s too little to ride outside of a car seat. It’s the law,” the lady said to my mom like it was no big deal as she pushed my right arm through a strap. I noted that she wasn’t talking to me, though. “But this is like a car seat for a two-year-old?” I said incredulously as her hand connected the harness between my legs. “Well, you’re actually smaller than my twelve-month-old daughter,” she smiled. “I’ll show you a picture once I get everyone on the bus. She’s so cute! Kind of like you,” she said and touched me gently on the nose. ‘What?’ my brain froze to a halt. I watched in silence as dad was given a booster seat that was like I had used until I was eight… People slowly loaded the bus, and other than shouts of surprise as others found themselves in similar car seats and booster seats, things went pretty smoothly. One of the last people to get on the bus was the man in the suit from earlier who had been rude. I noticed he had a pink armband, and I giggled a little bit at the thought while simultaneously wondering what kind of seat that was if I was purple. He pitched a fit when she tried to get him into a genuine infant carrier, complete with toys on the handle. “No way in god damn hell am I going to ride in that like some sort of baby!!!!” “Sir, I’m sorry, it’s the law at your size…?” “No fucking way!” I watched her shrug, and she gave up, “Okay, this is the second time we’ve had an issue. You’re officially done with Diamond Tours. Please sign this agreement stating you are terminating your services with us, and Grace will help you off the bus.” I watched him sign and had an odd feeling in my stomach, thinking he was making some mistake like a character in a horror movie. I could barely turn my head and see out the window as he gathered his stuff and left the bus. He walked about ten steps down the sidewalk, and a lady came up to him and picked him up. I watched him hit her repeatedly over and over again before she pulled his clothes off and spanked him! Really, she spanked him like some sort of child! I could hear him crying even over the engine inside. Then, just as the bus started to move, I swore it looked like she had put a pacifier in his mouth as she sat him back up. ‘What did we get ourselves into?’ I asked myself. THE TRIP TO the hotel was much calmer, and I could see pretty well out the window thanks to my car seat - even if my view was backward! Dara had indeed come and shown us pictures of her cute daughter. Looking at her standing next to her mom in one, I agreed she had to be taller than me. ‘I’m shorter than a one-year-old?’ I worried. I was used to being one of the shorter girls under five feet, but this was like the Twilight Zone! When we stopped, Dara came by each of us strapped into the car seats, and unbuckled us. I had tried to do it myself while I waited, but no matter how hard I squeezed the buckle, I couldn’t get it to unlatch. I even tried a little trick I remember my cousin’s car seat had, but it hadn’t worked. I was red in the face as Dara sat me down on the aisle floor and patted my head gently. Then, I walked down the steps and waited outside with my parents until we were taken inside. As we waited, I saw a car pass by with a cute baby girl in a rear-facing car seat looking straight into my eyes. I waved at her and thought her expression was odd… not like an infant. We were checked into the hotel, and I was glad to see that the size of the hotel was less intimidating. “Why is this smaller?” I asked Dara as we were waiting for our room keys. “This hotel is designed for Betweeners and guests from your dimension. Of course, it’s a bit uncomfortable for us, Amazons, but the tour is for you all, not us!” She winked. “As long as you are here or with our group, you are safe.” “You keep saying that…?” I started to ask, but she scooted off to go with Grace, and they gave us our marching orders for dinner being there in a couple hours. We would get a night tour of the city, and then the next day, we would start doing the touristy things. I knew all of that from the itinerary and just sighed with relief as we entered the hotel room, and things seemed almost normal-sized back home. Of course, it was still taller, but it wasn’t like I’m sure an Amazon room had to be. Mom had no problems reaching the sink to wash her hands, but dad had to stand on his tiptoes. I laughed until I realized that I had a problem since I was even shorter! In the end, I had to be helped up by Mom until we discovered a child’s step stool under the sink counter. I blushed but used it from then on anyway. The next few days felt not much different than our family trip to New York City a couple years back. We were taken to various sites, given tours of museums, tall skyscrapers, a college, manufacturing companies, and just about anything someone would be interested in. During these outings, though, we discovered that most people my size weren’t wandering around on their own. I also figured out the baby I saw nursing at the port probably wasn’t really a baby… but someone my own age, most likely! I grimaced when I saw one poor boy being forced to crawl in nothing but a diaper that looked and smelled used. “Come along, Neville!” The lady said. He looked at me for just a second, and I saw an absolute sadness on his face. I also noticed his grin looked off, and he was missing a lot of teeth! I shuddered and filed that in the back of my mind with the other horrors I’d seen. I had begun wondering why we had even taken this trip! Everything was going pretty well until the fourth day we were taken to a mall to look around. We were in smaller groups, with Grace and Dara splitting us up between them. As I walked with Dara’s group, I wondered what even the point of looking for clothes at the mall in this dimension was...? I could not fit into any of the fashions for my age here! Mom would be lucky to find teenage clothing in her size… The only things I could fit into would only look fashionable on one of the ‘Littles’ that I saw everywhere there. I guess I wasn’t paying attention because I was surprised when a police officer asked me, “Hi, I’m Officer Slane. Where’s your mommy?” I looked up at the tall woman and said, “Just over...” My mom and our group were gone. “...they were there…?” “Oh dear…” she said. “What’s your name?” “Lily Hendrickson,” I told her. “Look, I’m sure she just moved up to the next store… can…?” “Let’s find your chip and find your mommy,” she said while reaching down and picking me up. “What are you doing?” I yelled, “Put me down!” “I know you’re upset, but we’ll find your mommy. Let me just scan you real quick…” she said as she pulled a cell phone-looking device out of her pocket and waved it up and down my body. “That’s weird… where’s your chip?” “My chip?” I asked. It was then that she noticed the wristband. “Oh… you’re a portal little… and didn’t stay with your group?” Her sudden grin scared me. “I was with them… I don’t know how they got away…?” “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter now. I’ll take you to someplace you can stay until we get this sorted out.” The officer said. “But…” “Come on,” she said and moved me to her hip like you would a toddler. I wanted to kick and scream, but I knew that wouldn’t do any good at this point. I’d dealt with my cousin’s baby having a tantrum and understood with the size difference, I couldn’t do anything more than her baby could… I was taken to an exit and stood in the backseat of her patrol car. “Give me just a second, hon, while I get a car seat for you.” She closed the door for a second, locking me in the cage at the back of the car. I shivered in fear, wondering if I was being arrested. When she returned with a very bland-looking infant carrier, she buckled it on the opposite side of where I was and put it rear-facing. “Am I under arrest?” I asked nervously. She laughed, “Oh no, sweetie, we just can’t have a tourist running around the mall lost. I had the security team look around for your group before I approached you, but they couldn’t find them. So it’s best we just take you somewhere safe for now. You’re awfully little to be on your own in our big world!” She smiled, and I shuddered with the thought of the big bad wolf grinning at me. “Now, come over here so I can get you in your seat.” “Do I have to sit in this kind of seat?” “You’re right at the height that I think it’s safer than not,” she told me as she picked me up and buckled me in. Over the past few days, I had figured out there was no way for me to get myself out of the seat. I either lacked the strength or a trick to unbuckle the seat. My mom had been able to unbuckle me once this morning, but she’d been told off to let the adults do it next time… I’d never had a chance to ask how she managed it! I sighed as she closed the door and drove away with me. I spent the time wondering how I was going to find my parents and get back home. I was almost in tears as I thought about how hopeless it might be for me! IT SEEMED LIKE forever before we stopped, and Officer Slane came and undid my harness and carried me on her side again. Then, I saw a sign on the front lawn, “Little Feet Orphanage.” “Orphanage? Why are you taking me to an orphanage?” I asked, “I’m eighteen!” “They are the best people at helping someone your size,” she told me and continued through a gate and rang a buzzer. A tall, well-endowed woman opened the door, “Officer Slane! So good to see you again! They said you were on your way. We’ll be sure to get your fee all set, but let me get a look at this little girl first.” She looked at me closely like I was a pack of meat or something. My hair was messed with for a second. She even squeezed my belly. “Skinny and scrawny little thing, aren’t you?” “Excuse me?” I asked as I winced from her touch. “What’s your name?” “Lily Hendrickson…” “How old are you?” “Eighteen…” I told her. “Any problems taking her?” the officer asked. “No, she’ll do well here! Come to Nana,” she told me and grabbed me from Officer Slane. “I want to go back and find my mom and dad!” I told her. “Don’t worry about that,” she said with a squeeze that was meant to be reassuring. “I’m sure Officer Slane will be on that case! So for now, let’s get you settled in here!” I was carried down a hallway and into a storeroom, where she sat me down and began looking through some clothes. They weren’t just any clothes, though; they looked like baby clothes, complete with snaps in the crotches! She fiddled with some rompers before coming back with a romper and a dress in the other hand. The romper was just absolutely meant for a baby! It featured a frilly fake short sleeve coming down to a bottom with more frills and a crotch meant to unsnap for diaper changes. The dress wasn’t much better, being a pink dress with several tiers of skirting that poofed out even as she held it. “Which one?” She asked me. “For what?” “For you to wear silly…” she laughed. “What’s wrong with what I have on?” “It isn’t proper clothing for this orphanage. So you’ll have to wear something we provide here.” I sighed, “You’re serious, aren’t you?” She nodded. A look in her eyes almost seemed to dare me to act up… I pointed to the dress, “I like dresses.” She beamed back at me, “Good girl!” I was lifted again after she sat down the romper and sat me down on a padded table. ‘Padded table…?’ I panicked. I didn’t have time to say anything before her enormous hands pulled my shirt over my head. Then, without warning, a pair of scissors snipped my bra off, and she giggled, “What was the point of you wearing that bra?” she pulled out the enhancers I used. “You don’t even look like you have what most of our littles have up top!” I blushed and felt a tear come to my eye, “So I’m small… I’ve gotten over that!” She laughed again and pushed me onto my back, and I found a strap snaking itself over my chest. I would have tried to move if I thought I could, but the nylon belt effectively kept my arms and upper body pinned down. She pulled my shoes and socks off before stripping me of my shorts. “Please don’t take my panties,” I blushed. “Oh dearie, I can’t let you use those, unfortunately… not until we’ve tested to see how mature you are. It’s a sanitary thing, you see…?” “What?” I asked, confused. My confusion didn’t last long, though, before I saw her bring an enormous me-sized diaper from underneath the table I was sitting on. “I don’t need diapers!!!!” I told her, “I’m not a baby!” “That remains to be seen. But, I will tell you that screaming your head off at me isn’t going to make me think you really are a big girl, now do you?” I gritted my teeth but shook my head, “I’m sorry.” “That’s quite okay, dearie. Let’s just get you into this. You don’t have to use it, mind you. Just tell one of the workers that you need to use the potty, and we’ll get you on one to use it.” I sighed with relief, “Okay.” She managed my feet as effortlessly as I could have with a baby back home and lifted my legs to put the thick diaper underneath my bottom. Baby lotion was suddenly applied, and she taped up the diaper. The strap was removed, and I found my hands pushed through the armholes of the dress like I was unable to dress on my own. Once my head was through, I watched as she settled the dress down and fussed with it for a second. I realized, though, that due to the bell style of the short skirt, it would pretty much constantly display my diaper… I blushed as I remembered several littles like that the past few days. “Good girl, now I think it’s time for you to have supper, and we’ll probably look for an early night for you.” ‘What?’ I thought but didn’t say anything as she picked me up and carried me into a dining room where about seven other littles were being fed in a combination of high chairs and booster seats. Most appeared to be diapered from what I could see. I hoped I’d be put into a booster seat, but the empty high chair was to be my dining spot. She embarrassingly not only sat me inside of it but strapped me tightly in the harness before pulling the tray into place. “Okay, you said you think you’re a big girl,” she told me, “so we’re having spaghetti. Do you want a bib or not?” I gulped and looked down at the dress, “Do I get in trouble if I get some on me?” She looked at me with narrowing eyes, “it would mean we wouldn’t exactly trust your next answer…?” I saw that one little boy was making a mess without a bib, but he didn’t have a shirt on. Another girl didn’t have a bib on and just dropped a piece of spaghetti on her top, and I saw her look around with a horror-stricken expression as she nervously tried to hide it. “If it’s spaghetti, I’ll take a bib.” “Hmm… might be mature enough… we’ll see.” She brought me a small plate of spaghetti chopped up into tiny strands. Really it was a misnomer to call it spaghetti then, but I didn’t complain. I had eaten most of the meal when I realized I was thirsty. “Umm… Nana, do you have something I can drink?” I tried to be polite. “Please?” I added. She smiled and went to the fridge for something. The reason for her smirk was apparent when it landed on the tray. It was a giant baby bottle of milk! It looked like a two-liter from back home! “What’s that for?” I asked in disbelief. “You wanted something to drink…?” “But that’s a baby bottle!” “So?” “I’m not a baby.” “Just drink it anyway; all of our sippy cups are dirty.” If I had not been through everything… separated from my parents, diapered, dressed into a baby dress… well, I was sure I would have just sucked it up and used it… but something inside me just snapped. “No, I’m an adult! Just get me a regular cup!” “Drink it,” she said patiently and began to try and insert it into my mouth. I just noticed one little shaking her head at me as I instinctively swatted at the object trying to poke me. The baby bottle went flying to the ground and, to my horror, came open, spilling it all onto the floor. “Well, so much for maturity. I guess you’re not ready for baby bottles… That’s fine.” “I’m so sorry!” I told her, “I’ll clean it up if...?” “Hush, not another word out of you…” she told me harshly. She started cleaning it up, and I wondered what she meant about not being ready for bottles. Another woman came in then carrying a little that looked to have been crying. “Tammy, would you please watch the rest of them? This new girl and I need to have a discussion and then get her something to drink.” “Sure thing Jessie!” I trembled as she pulled me out of the highchair roughly and carried me down the hallway. “Since it’s your first day, I think we’ll just put you to bed early for your punishment. I don’t think you would have been a bad enough girl to make a mess like that intentionally,” The woman I now knew was named Jessie said to me. I shook my head, “I’m sorry.” “Well, I believe you. But we still have to get you something to drink like you asked for. Don’t want you getting dehydrated. Nana will take care of you, though.” The huge woman sat down in a rocking chair, and I wondered what she meant since I didn’t see a glass of water or anything. I was confused as she started messing with the large top she had on and pulled down the fabric of a nursing bra. “Wha…?” was all I could say before she shoved my head at the nipple. I had no desire to drink from this woman’s breast, but she did something with her thumb on my chin to force my mouth open, and the nipple went inside my mouth. It was just a single drop of milk that touched my tongue. It was amazing. Tastier than anything I had ever tasted! I instinctively began suckling more and more of it out. “It appears you seem less resistant than some of the portal littles,” she said as she patted my bottom, but I had no idea what she meant. The liquid was all I cared about; I had to have more! It stopped coming, though, and I fussed a bit. “Oh, such a greedy guts!” she told me with a laugh before picking me up from her breast and putting me over her shoulder. “Let’s let some gas out before we keep going,” she said. I felt some gentle blows to my back and belched up a burp, and some sticky white milk came out of my mouth onto a cloth she had been smart enough to have on. “Let’s move to the other side,” she told me and began nursing me from her other breast. That’s where things became hazy, and I lost the plot for a while. I FOUND MYSELF waking up to odd sounds and sensed something wasn’t right. First, there were noises from what sounded like toddlers playing with toys. Then, as I opened my eyes, I blinked multiple times and realized my vision was covered with bars on all sides. ‘I’m in a crib!’ I thought and sat up. I looked down at my body and realized I was in a one-piece sleeper that had mittens on my hands. I tried to stand, but something became difficult with that. I learned a moment later there was a large balloon shape around my groin and groaned. I had a diaper on that I poked at and discovered it was most definitely wet. “Awake now?” Nana said as she came over. “Let’s get you out of your jammies, some breakfast, and then we’ll let you play for a while. She carried me to the changing table, unzipped me, and changed me into a dry diaper and a new blue dress. It did nothing to hide my dry diaper, and she carried me to the kitchen and sat me in the highchair again. Once I was trapped in the chair, Nana walked off behind me for a moment. She came back a moment later with a bowl, a bib, and a spoon. She didn’t hesitate in putting the pink bib around my neck that read, ‘Cutie Pie.’ The bowl was sat down on the tray, and I thought maybe she intended for me to eat it myself for about one second before she grabbed the spoon and brought it to my mouth. “Open up for the choo-choo!” “Wh…?” I started to say, and the spoonful of mush entered my mouth. It was weird and grainy, not like oatmeal. Before I could even think of asking what it was, she kept spooning more and more of it into my mouth. I decided it must have been rice cereal for infants about halfway through the bowl! When she finished and wiped my face off with the bib, I was hoping a bottle would be available to wash it down, but instead, she picked me up and said, “I’m hoping you’ll be ready for bottles this afternoon. For now, though, we’ll stick with what’s best for you.” I was so shocked by everything there wasn’t much fight in me as she sat down on a chair and presented me with her orb of flesh again. My craving from last night came back, and I didn’t even try and hesitate; I just latched on and sucked. I was feeling sleepy when I had finished both breasts, and she’d burped me, but instead of putting me down for a nap, she carried me into a living room where the other ‘kids’ were all watching something on TV. “You’ll love this show!” the lady said to me. A screen title passed by ‘Naomi and Oliver’, and I lost time again. I stood up a while later, looking confused as I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there. I suddenly felt a strong need to go poop but had no idea where the bathroom was. So I walked over to Nana, who was sewing something, “May I use the bathroom?” “Maybe…” she said before flipping up my dress and touching the diaper I had on. “What are you…?” “Checking to see if you would even be ready for the potty after last night and tonight. I’m sorry to tell you that you’re not going to be using the potty any time soon. You’re already wet, just make a nice poopy for Nana in your diapee, and I’ll change you then.” “I don’t want to…!” I said as she put me down. “It doesn’t matter what you want,” she giggled, “You’ll be using the diaper no matter what. I’m not taking it off you, and you can’t go by yourself.” “But…” “Besides, don’t good girls like you like using their diapees? Naomi and Oliver say so?” With that statement, I felt like I was outside of my body. I grunted for a moment and squatted. ‘This can’t be happening!’ my brain screamed. “Aww… you made a present for Nana!” she told me. “Go play for a bit, and then I’ll change you.” I tried to take a step toward her to argue but instead found myself falling and landing on my poop. I started bawling then, and she said, “Well, if you’re going to be such a baby about it, I guess I can change you now!” So went the next two days… diaper changes, breastfeeding, baby food, watching my new favorite TV show, Naomi and Oliver, and slowly not noticing I was even wet or poopy until someone came and told me I was. Finally, on the third day, when I woke up in a poop-filled diaper and saw my mom and dad standing beside the playpen I was in for a nap, I believed I was hallucinating. By then, I had totally lost hope of getting out. “Mom!!!!!!!!!! Dad!!!!!!!” I cried. “This is positively her?” an Amazon man asked Mom. “Definitely! What did they do to her? And why is she in a poopy diaper? Don’t they change them at least?!?” Mom was outraged. “We’ll get her changed real quick and then escort you all to the portal,” the lady who I noticed was in a bulletproof vest. She picked me up before carrying me to a changing table I’d become well acquainted with. I hoped she would just put me back into a pair of panties, but instead, she put me into another diaper. “It may take a while before she recovers?” Then, she dug around and handed Mom a large diaper bag with more diapers and other baby stuff. Mom grimaced but happily took me from her and held me tightly like I was little again. I must have lost some weight on the trip or in the orphanage because I couldn’t believe she could carry me like a toddler again. “Lily, I’m so glad we found you!” she said as Dad joined in hugging me, and we all cried. “As much as I would like to let you have time, I think it’s best we get you moving…” another man said. “Yes, sir,” Mom told him while setting me on the ground and grabbing my hand tightly. We walked outside to a plethora of news crews and bystanders watching. Luckily a van collected us quickly, and I was strapped into a forward-facing car seat. “How did you find me?” I asked as we drove. “It wasn’t easy, Lily… It turns out the tour company we were using wasn’t legitimate, and they were just operating to get some Littles to adopt. Once we lost you, we talked to the police, and they began investigating with the help of this bureau group… I’ll tell you more, but suffice it to say that we’re being escorted to the portal and never coming back... “ I nodded with tears in my eyes and was ecstatic when we got out at the portal! Our remaining group was disembarking from a bus simultaneously, and we gathered back with them. I noted that half of the group seemed to be missing! The other half looked at me in recognition and horror. I held onto Dad for dear life in the small crowd. I felt antsy and just wanted to get back inside the portal and go home! “Dad, can we get out of here already? I hate this damn diaper, and I don’t want to spend another minute in it!” “Sweetheart, they warned you not to separate from the group,” Mom said to me. “You’re just lucky we found you before you were adopted out.” “What do you mean?” “You were in an orphanage designed to make littles into well-behaved babies. In another week, you would have gone home with someone!” I felt my eyes open then, “With the diapers… will I still need them when…?” Mom leaned in and said, “For a while probably, I mean... you’re already wet…?” It was then that I realized I was still in a pretty short dress, and my drooping diaper was showing. I hugged Mom tightly and cried as we finally made it back through the security lines and to a hallway that led to the portal. The second I stepped through and saw everything as we left it, I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything looked normal… until I looked at Mom, who came through after me. She seemed taller than she had a moment before… and I seemed shorter than her! She gasped and said, “Oh sweetheart… Let’s go find the restroom so I can change your diapee.” “Why is everything so big?” I asked. Dad was right behind her and back to his normal height of being taller than her. “We’ll talk back home, sweetie,” he told me. Then, a pacifier appeared somewhere and was shoved into my mouth. After a few days, I didn’t think twice and was nursing it as she carried me to a family room and exposed my diaper. “You’re stinkie!” she told me as she lifted my legs and wiped me like I’d been wiped the previous week. ‘When did I poop again?’ I blushed and was just glad when she had me redressed and carried me to the car where a car seat had somehow been installed. Once buckled in, I spit the pacifier out, “Why am I the size of a baby still?” “It was the deal we made, sweetie. In order to get you back out of there, we had to have you shrunk to the size of an eighteen-month-old. That way, any weird baby things you do seem normal. They don’t want anyone on this side of the portal to know what goes on there… It was either this, or we all would be stuck in that dimension.” “I have to grow up all over again?!?!?” I asked incredulously. “I said, shrunk, not regressed. You’ll just have to be our baby like this forever… They adjusted a few things on the way back. At least I have my baby girl back!” A pacifier pushed into my mouth blocked anything I would have said. ‘Forever?’ I sighed. ‘Well, at least it’s my parents and not some random Amazons…?’ Finis