Search the Community

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 and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy the following story. So, here is the first chapter of my next story on here. I have everything all mapped out, but I might be a bit busier in the next month. My hope is to finish posting the last chapter before I go on vacation, but if not, as a warning, there might be over a week where I don't post something new. (Edit: This story also connects to the 'Tell Me More' story I wrote a few months ago now. Dr. Mengell used it's findings as a catalyst for her to change her practice toward helping Littles in need.) I hope everyone enjoys this next chapter! Chapter 1: Welcome to Project Nurture My foot tapped anxiously while waiting for another conference to end. Today was the day that would determine if the so-called ‘Project Nurture’ would have been worth something more than what it had already offered to the participating Littles and Caregivers. Of course, they had seen the immediate benefits, and each was mostly happy with the outcome we had achieved together, but I knew the Board of Directors for Diamond Technologies was something entirely different. Many were old standbys of traditional methods and had literal stock in many of them and the tools and drugs required to facilitate their execution. This experiment proved, however, that it could move us Bigs away from the old techniques of the past, which was something I was greatly in favor of. Having been a researcher in the many ways of possible regression, I could still remember what I had seen and heard in my time with other less savory projects. “Oh please, God, don’t put me under! Please let me keep my mind… just a tiny bit! Why can’t I walk? Wah dih’ you do ta ma tun? Why does my head feel so… empty… and free? Stay in, stay in, why won’t you just stay in? I can’t feel my legs! What did you do to me? Maaa bahhh!’ I shuddered a bit. Those cries of pleading and anguish from all those patients still haunted me today. In a sense, Project Nurture was my shot at a redemption of sorts. From my experience, I knew firsthand that all other techniques alone were too severe, some even being outright horrible in any dosage. The file I now held with me and was about to present to the Board of Directors represented a new path for us Bigs. The small USB device in my briefcase had the potential to change everything if handled correctly and could be worth billions if applied correctly. ‘What old Drakos at Juventas would give just to get a peek at all the data in here… probably pay a fortune.’ Still, my loyalty was with Diamond Technologies, and I knew if they only could accept what I had to offer from the experiments I had observed, the world would be better for it. I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of such a change. It almost even seemed ironic to be presenting this information to a company that was now so infamous with its connection to Diamond Tours, but I knew that stain on their reputation would only favor me with the Board of Directors. Just then, the other conference ended, and several people started to quickly exit from the room. I stood up and walked confidently into the emptying room to start setting up. I clicked a few switches for the room control and ensured all the systems I would need were working correctly. I had just finished checking the RealET system when a manager from the previous conference walked up to me with a large grin. “Edgar!” Harry Carga joyfully shouted. “How are ya doin’? New presentation today?” “Hey, Harry. New presentation to the Board of Directors in a few minutes actually,” I replied while still ensuring all my slides were good to go after I had inserted my USB device. “Ah, wonderful! Wonderful!” Harry then got a mischievous look on his face. “Just between us old managers. You, testing division… me, marketing… is it about the new toy line… Mister…?” “Mister Brown,” I finished quickly for him, trying to move the conversation along to better focus on my presentation. “No, that’s another project, but,” I leaned in closer and indulgently whispered to my old friend, “I can tell you this… the Mister Brown stuffed bear line’s preliminary testing has suggested that it could be a smash success in the market. In fact,” I looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping, “we even think the technology could be so useful, that it could be used as the basis for other animal lines as well.” “Oh? Do tell,” Harry said, practically salivating over the notion. I could already see his marketing-focused brain start to spin up with all new advertisements. “Well, it’s all still preliminary, but maybe elephants, unicorns, tigers, bunnies, and if the tech guys are to be believed… dragons.” “Oh wow! I can just see them now,” Harry said, his eyes practically rolling into the back of his head from the mere thought of such a lucrative prospect. “I’m sure you can, Harry,” I said, trying to refocus on my preparation once more. “Man, with the way my Little has been behaving though… I might just be the first to get one and use one of the special features I heard so much about from the rumor mill.” I wanted to smack him in the head right then for even implying such a thing for his Little, but I just smiled and wrapped the conversation up as quickly as I could. Bigs like Harry was why Project Nurture was so important. We Bigs needed a change and today could be the solution to get rid of the need for all those special features in the first place. I continued to click deliberately on the correct icons from my computer’s screen to select the start of the presentation that I had crafted just for today. A lot was riding on it, especially seeing the long line of Board Members for the company that were now walking in with their propensity to always strive for innovation and progress, yet somehow always come off as traditional and even regressive in some ways. Knowing the Board of Directors, the outcome of today with these fair-weather types could either mean a total success or a setback of at least ten years if they had their way afterward. Our society of Bigs had been entrenched in its ideology about Littles for decades now. Bigs and Littles once lived in relative harmony in the same but slightly separated communities. Now, Bigs and Littles were integrated together fully, but the treatment of Littles had only grown more severe since the so-called ‘Inclusion Laws’ had first been enacted, as indicated by Harry only moments ago. We all knew that Littles were often kidnapped or tricked into centers for regression and then adopted out to childless couples or already large families looking to possess an always fashionable Little, but those laws increased those odds by at least 70% in the first year alone. For the lucky regressed Little, some Bigs would choose to regress them personally, rather than those awful regression centers, but this could be messy, unpredictable, and even dangerous if handled incorrectly. One Little had escaped and killed their entire adoptive family of Bigs last year. Something had to change, so I took a deep breath in to begin with what could be that very change. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” I announced in front of the room of the now-seated spectators and members of the company board. “I would like to thank you all for coming here today, and I would like to especially thank the Board of Directors of this company for green lighting this project in the first place. I’m pleased to say that your faith in our experiment was well placed.” The Board members around the desk nodded subtly and the rest of the audience behind them gave a small clap. “So, it was a success?” Ms. Beakerman asked from the back of the table, shoving her horned rimmed glasses up her bony and hooked nose. The small applause immediately stopped. “Yes, ma’am. This presentation,” I flicked off most of the lights and turned the front projector on, “will demonstrate the effectiveness of our latest round of experiments.” The screen popped on and flashed my name, ‘Dr. Edgar Thompson,’ and the title, ‘Regressing Littles in a New Way: Using a Combination of Tender Care, Threat of Punishment, Mild Hypnosis, and Company Medications to Achieve Similar Results to Traditional Methods of Mental Reversion,’ with the codename, ‘Project Nurture’ at the bottom. Gasps went out over the crowd. They had of course been informed of the project last year when it was still in the planning phases, but knowing them as I did, many had likely just signed off and only agreed with some of the more senior Board members without fully reading the document. It worked in my favor for getting projects off the ground, but their rejection rates at this stage were often much higher. “Similar results, Dr. Thompson?” Mr. Cannon asked, drumming his fingers in an annoyed manner on his rotund belly that was threatening to burst all the buttons off the white shirt he was wearing today. “Yes. Similar results, sir, as you will see.” I clicked forward in the presentation to a slide labeled, ‘Why?’ “I will get to that in one moment if you will bear with me. I promise, your question will be answered in good time.” Mr. Cannon, the group skeptic, grumbled but waved his pudgy fingers for me to proceed. “Of the past methods we Bigs have used to regress Littles, three have been go-to methods for decades; a new drug, a new surgery, or a new hypnosis method.” The board murmured in agreement; each having grown rich off this company’s profits with each of the three methods in the past. “Yes, yes. All good, but each has a downside as we know all too well.” I clicked the presentation forward, now showing the three methods and images of their various failures. “A new drug often causes mass hallucinations and mental breakage of the affected Little, which means lawsuits and negative publicity. New surgeries reduce abilities but are often expensive and permanently damaging to Littles, not to mention a stain on the name of our society as being ‘more civilized.’” The board whispered in silent and obvious ashamed agreement. “And lastly, new hypnosis methods. They are faster and more permanent when done correctly, but if ever possibly broken, many Littles need to be regressed again with stronger methods or have even been committed to an insane asylum in some cases.” I was about to click to the next slide, but one member raised their hand. It was Mr. Cannon again. “Yes… sir?” “I read an article the other day, you see… your method I’m sure is valid, and you are right about the other three, but I think you left out one.” I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, though slightly knowing where he could be going with this. “What about these nanobots I hear all this chatter about, doc?” Mr. Cannon asked inquisitively. The entire room shifted its uncomfortable focus back onto me. I knew this was bound to come out as well, having just read the article myself in the company newsletter. “Ah yes, that’s true. Newer and faster acting nanobots have begun to pop up in several markets, even beyond our own company’s breakthroughs, but we have found that these often have some, if not all, the negatives of these previous methods. We believe that one day these will be all the rage, and we have other experiments dedicated to those that even I am involved with, but there are just too many unknowns for now.” I knew that something being classified as ‘unknown’ was a dirty word to the Board of Directors. It could mean money lost or reputations being tarnished. As such, Mr. Cannon merely nodded along with the rest of the board and gave me the signal to proceed. Satisfied, I clicked the next slide, labeled, ‘Background.’ “This method was originally formed when during one of the raids of a Littles liberation camp, a psychology textbook from one of the portal Littles was discovered. At first the textbook appeared to possess only rudimentary knowledge of the inner machinations of their primitive minds, but our scientists postulated that an understanding of their minds is both genetics, or physical workings, and one’s background. Further, information discovered could be used to augment the psychological profile of the average portal Little, rather than just their physical attributes. While not necessarily a barometer or new method of regression, it was thought to be a potential key to unlocking the secrets of Little society, both here and there.” The crowd leaned in further. I knew I had their attention, and I was glad that no one had outright objected so far. “In fact, what we have just been learning ourselves had been discovered when portal Littles first came here, but society at the time had caused the government to repress the information from being released to the public. ‘Our government sources still wouldn’t say why, but I’m guessing one of the corporations had their hand in it with kickbacks and the like… not to even mention all the tech from keeping Littles regressed.’ “The government only informed us two days ago… after the experiment had already concluded, however, our findings were more extensive and conducted with more concrete analysis and less… bias,” I quickly added after seeing some of the Board grow anxious for the potential of wasted money when an experiment like this had already occurred years ago. ‘Waste’ was another dirty word to them. The Board of Directors and the other audience members before me murmured in their own ways. Something told me that my personal theory of companies paying the government off in order to sell more Little products was dead right. A few on our own Board had dealings with the government in the past but had left for ‘undisclosed reasons.’ ‘I could be talking to some of those same members who were involved with repressing the information…’ I tossed the thought out of my head, knowing it wouldn’t do me any good to dwell on, and moved forward with a click to the next slide. “Regardless, our doctors have reinforced the long-held belief that portal Littles activate a hormonal fluctuation in many Bigs which causes their protective and nurturing instincts to go into overdrive. Some estimate the reaction is almost twice as potent with portal Littles as compared to our own native Littles. So, with a declining local Little and unregressed population and the widening amount of infertility in our society, portal Littles will likely continue to be, and even grow, into one of the largest markets of Littles existing.” I switched to the next slide. “The psychological textbook theories in the captured books were combined with years of research conducted by in-depth interviews of Bigs and even some Littles, who I should point out were not coerced in any manner. Then, Little psychologists condensed and tailored all those data points into this single experiment in its entirety to test the complete validity of this revised method into practice. I…” “Why the hell would they want to help us? Seems a bit suspicious, doctor,” one of the senior and more traditional Bigs, Mr. Galpin, shot out. I knew I was going to receive at least one objection from him. George Galpin’s family stretched across Libertalia in their influence, and it was common knowledge that his brother, Robert, and his wife Emily, had just adopted a Little of their own from one of the more barbaric regression institutes in the north. “Ah, yes. Mr. Galpin… You must understand,” I explained, “that the possibility of the success of this program could mean a different treatment for all Littles potentially. Not just portal Littles.” He continued to glare at me. “You see, our native Littles know that adoption is likely for at least 90% of Littles in our world, so if it can be better for them and for us, they know it’s worth their involvement.” Mr. Galpin seemed to steam in frustration for a moment but relented and leaned back in his chair. Hopeful that I had quelled his discontent, I continued with the slides. I clicked the screen again and two subjects were shown. “Here is subject 90876A and 90876B, and this Little and Big duo will be the main focus of today’s presentation. Of the 150 test subjects in this conducted experiment, 40 occurred in this country with the same parameters beyond test subject differences. In fact, two test villages were set up in the northeast and the south with 20 subject pairs in each, just to cut down on outside variables for the initial part of testing.” I then held up one of the spare data storage devices that I had brought along with me. “When you leave today, each of you will take one of these home with you. They have been modified to be viewed by you only using your genetic code stored within company files. Each contains all sessions conducted with subjects 90876A and 90876B, as well as the remaining 149 experiments with conclusions drawn for each. We know you, as the Board of Directors for this company, are busy with other matters, so we will leave the investment timing of viewing your up to you. Further, of the 110 test subject pairings not in this country, they were divided amongst seven other countries to ensure a wider possibility of success with our method across the world and cultures.” The board murmured with greedy anticipation. In truth, we could have just remained in one section of this country, but I knew that a world market meant a wider audience, and a wider audience meant more buyers of this company’s products. Despite the varied appearances before me, dollar signs illuminated each of their eyes in unison. I clicked the slide again. “All subjects were chosen for their backgrounds, desires, and for the Big, their demeanor and current job placement. We determined that the job requirement in all our caregivers shouldn’t be too time consuming, and the subject caregiver should be able to take off if needed to complete a part of the experiment if needed. Future experiments, if approved, will test this method out with varying job parameters, but for the first round of testing, we believed that further interactions between the subjects, caregiver and Little, would be needed. We also knew that a flexibility was important in both subjects.” The board nodded their heads in agreement. ‘So far, so good, Edgar… just keep reeling them in.’ “For the Little, smaller parameters were required. Due to the theory of mentality being a combination of environment and genetics however, each of the Littles came from the same dimension. The planet is a pre-fusion society and still relies on several pollutants for fuel, so this did allow some ease of tension when Littles were inducted into our society with our various advancements in technology.” “How were they convinced?” Ms. Beakerman asked shrilly. “Ah. Yes, well, we will discuss Little involvement in due time, but we have promised the Bigs to be able to adopt their assigned Little by the end, barring negative mannerisms previously undetected or violation of experiment protocols. They were aware of the experiment being performed and realized they could have a potentially better behaved and more accepting Little than ever before as well. In fact, off the 150 total caregivers we selected, we had to turn down over 60,000.” The board all appeared shocked but then resolved once more. Everyone knew about the struggles our society was facing, so honestly, 60,000 almost seemed too small a number worldwide to me at least. “Additionally, Bigs will be paid for the care of the Little with whatever tools or implements required during the process and an extra bonus will be given in the end if all regulations and procedures were followed to the letter. We believed this contributed to the fact that only one subject was ever treated incorrectly according to the regulations of the experiment. Subject 90872A and B have been noted in your files…” “You still haven’t answered my initial question, Doctor.” Mr. Cannon growled. “My patience is growing thin.” The Board Members began murmuring in agreement soon afterward. “I’m just getting to that, Mr. Cannon. Here.” I clicked the slide. “For years, as I noted, other harder methods are wrong and likely, illegal in most dimensions. They must stop. We, as a society, are wrong.” A gasp went up among the crowd. I had to hook them in quick or they would tune me out for the rest of the presentation or even leave. I didn’t get the chance though. “You’ll never get away with this!” a Big stood up from the back of the crowd and waved a gun around. The board members and I quickly took cover behind whatever we could find. ‘Damn security budget cuts…’ “There’s an order to things,” he shouted manically. “You just can’t go about and change the book. This society needs those other services, and you’re getting rid of them! You won’t get away with this!” From his appearance and general demeanor, he was obviously an outsider. Any employee of our office knew that our company had long been at the forefront of innovation, so it was inevitable that someone would want to protest something we were doing. As such, despite their cutbacks, our security had been trained, armed, and were ready to deploy all throughout the building and its facilities within one minute. This office was closer to the main hub however, so less than thirty seconds after he had pulled out his gun, our security burst through the doors. “Freeze!” “Screw yo…!” Bzzzzt! The guard at the front of the pack quickly blasted off his stick and a charge of purple lightning struck the gunman squarely in the chest. He quickly collapsed and was neutralized. The gunman never fired a shot. As they dragged him away though, some… cleanup and air freshener were required from where the now babbling man had collapsed. Everyone in the room got back and resumed their seats once the janitorial staff had disinfected and sanitized the room. The amount of money invested in this program and the stubborn nature of each person there ensured that a single small gunman would not deter what they had come here to see. Seeing that it would take something much more to interrupt my presentation, I pressed forward, now with a lovely smell of lavender and lemon in the air. “As I was saying… harder methods of regression have been used since the beginning days of what we now know as the ‘Little Reclamation Program.’ These methods are effective in their own way but still brutal. Instead of pacifying the Little population, no pun intended,” a small chuckle emitted from the room, “these efforts have only galvanized more Littles against Big-led society. This movement includes those in this dimension and several of the ones arriving here. In fact, the Secretary of Commerce for Libertalia has even projected that tourism will be down by almost 40% next year from other portal dimensions. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. They are scared of us.” “A little fear goes a long way, though,” Mrs. Gordon, a young and suited woman, quickly pointed out. “True, but we are now experiencing the backlash of such methods.” The snooty young Board member eased back into her seat. “About five years ago, if you recall, a rebel leader of a Little resistance cell was taken and regressed through the traditional means. From the request of the government, she was almost made a near-permanent newborn in looks and abilities.” I paused and noticed that all eyes were on me. Despite the gunman and some of the more boring introductions of the presentation, all were still with me. It was a good sign. “Her cell found this out and only grew in their hate for our society and the methods the hospital had used. Not long after, the hospital was assaulted, and several were killed.” I took a sip from my nearby glass of water. “Her mother was killed in the fighting and her father later had a mental breakdown. She is now in foster care waiting to be adopted, though her prospects are slim due to her permanent vegetative newborn state… and all that is not just one isolated case.” The Board looked wary and reflective of the event, but there were so many like that story, I doubted a few of them could even remember it. “Additionally, our company has produced a lifelike doll that mimics many of the abilities and functions of a newborn. Though we should all be congratulated on our work and success with that product, adoption prospects for vegetative newborns have been pushed even further into jeopardy. We can… we must prevent these events from occurring.” “But how do you plan on that?” Mr. Galpin asked smugly, just as a light applause had begun. “I’m going to show you…” I clicked the next slide. “Using the method that you’ll soon see used for subjects 90876A and 90876B, we can lift this burden from our society. We would still be able to supply the population with a stable Little population that may even choose themselves to stay and the method wouldn’t carry the weight of our original near-barbaric methods of regression. It would be a sign for a renewal of faith in our society, rather than others looking at us like a, to put it bluntly, horror show.” To my surprise, a few of the board members clapped in earnest now. Surgeries and hypnotics were messy and almost completely irreversible as I had previously pointed out. Big society members in this dimension were looked at like monsters only yearning for fresh meat to babify, and people were starting to catch on. If something didn’t happen quickly, few Littles would ever think of coming here again regardless of our trickeries or appeal in other ways, such as our technology. Seeing a thriving space program and alternative fuel sources was nothing if said tourist came out, if at all, with the mentality of a one-year-old. Still, their reaction was at least a little surprising. “Further, we have discovered that some of our more natural tendencies are even stronger with this method. An estimated 90% of the group registered a near complete Big-to-Little bond that parents achieve with their natural offspring using hormone and chemical levels registered in the body to verify the result.” “What about the 10%?” Mr. Cannon skeptically and annoyingly asked. “Yes… well, based on our preliminary research, we have come to speculate based on our findings that despite our extensive sorting and elimination methods,” I admitted frustratingly, “many of the Bigs in the selected group seemed to only want to become caregivers based on their need for power or domination, rather than with their motivations of something like love. Further, due to the lower levels of a supply of Littles, we suspect that some of them may have taken longer to breakthrough as they may have otherwise been deemed as Dark Cliff candidates.” “Oh…” Mr. Cannon receded into the rest of the members around the table. Every Big knew of the terrible fate that awaited any that were sentenced there. ‘True tough cases if there ever were some…’ “Yes… well, now onto the main presentation. Lights, Mr. Cunningham!” One of the techs for the room quickly hit the light switch and immediately bathed the room in an inky black shadow, the projector being the only source of light with the newly designed blackout curtains all around. “Thank you. Now, knowing that these experiments would eventually be shown to you members of the Board, we decided to use RealET, or for those of you not aware of our AV department’s latest advancements, Real Environmental Technology.” Many in the room gasped at the use of something so state-of-the-art. “Using pre-installed devices during the experiment and the projectors now in this room, we can map what occurred right before you as if you were actually there. Some thoughts and feelings may be known as well, but many have been scrubbed to avoid… potential privacy issues in most cases.” “Can this broadcast the Olympics? Spartans are on at 6!” Ms. Beakerman jested, a known enthusiast of their national team and one of their most prominent benefactors. “I’m afraid not right now, Ms. Beakerman, though I can put you in contact with the head of their department after today. You never know what tomorrow could bring…” She only smiled broadly, her wrinkles stretching to their limits across her face. “Now, we shall begin with the first session and move onward. There are 42 sessions in total, but for the sake of time today, we will only show a selection of some of the more important moments from subjects 90876A and 90876B journey together. Some diaper changes and tantrums may be good to see, but more than six a day would likely become tiresome, as I’m sure some of you with Littles can attest to already,” I joked. The board laughed quietly, but I could see that each were fully entranced with the projection rendering all around them. It was hard not to with eh blue lasers rendering bits of the recording in real time. “Now, brace yourselves, this may feel a bit… weird.” I then moved over to the main control panel and as I could already begin to see my observation post for the experiment from a few months ago, I took a deep breath and pressed the lever to activate the screen. “Ladies and gentlemen of the board, I give you, Project Nurture!” Vrrroom! Pop!

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 and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) Surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female and some male domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Violence (pertaining to weapons, assault, or harm of others) Verbally abusive and violent caretakers Drugs and associated criminal elements Guns and their usage Blood and gore Mild language This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy the following story and this first chapter. Chapter 1: You Can't Be “Okay, let’s just get this out of the way right off the bat. As you can see, I’m a stuffed animal and my name is…” “Tus’!” Willy called out from the kitchen. “Iss time!” “Right. Tus’, but for any who haven’t been regressed by this towering society made of Bigs, Middles, and Littles, my name is Tusk,” I said proudly. “I’m named appropriately because I am obviously, well… an elephant. Not the eighth wonder of the world, Jumbo, who balances on a little ball under the big top mind you, but an elephant nonetheless.” I then lowered my voice. “Keep in mind though that I wouldn’t put it past my original designer for thinking along those lines, but I don’t even tower over Littles, let alone the Bigs. So, no… here in the non-imaginary world, I am just a stuffed animal, or ‘stuffy’ as most Littles like us are called,” I stated to the trembling duck before me. “I’m your typical male elephant; gray, big ears, a trunk, a tail, two tusks, and limbs that have the dexterity to basically push or pull and maybe grab onto certain objects, but I’m… we’re so much more around here.” The duck just looked at me with wide and uninitiated eyes. Obviously fresh out of the box, with the evidence of that still strewn about the floor. “You see, I am proudly owned by a Little in this massive world. It’s a job that most want but few can handle. I personally had no qualms about my job or what it meant for my Little’s future, but I love him to death and would do anything for him. That’s the job of us stuffy’s. Understand?” Before the duck could answer, rapturous laughter came from nearby. “Ha Ha Ha!” Willy cried out hysterically from the kitchen. “Speak of the devil…” I said, still seeing that the duck was too intimidated by everything going on to answer my question for now. “That would be Willy, my… or I guess our Little. Mommy is likely playing around with his footsies,” I say in air quotes as best I can, “it’s tradition by now for when he’s in the chair. Plus, it’s a special day after all and I can even smell a something extra brewing.” I sniff delightedly and take in every bit of the aroma that I can wafting from the kitchen now. While the typical Saturday morning breakfast of some delicious, syrup-covered blueberry pancakes still hangs in the air, there is something more delightful afoot now… something sweeter. “This old baby,” I point to my trunk, “picks up everything, despite it being full of fluff. I don’t know if it’s magic or what, but smelling all that goodness is almost as good as if I was eating whatever it is myself.” ‘Oh, the intangible perks of specific species as stuffed animals!’ “Anyway, as I said, our kind is everywhere, and if I’ve learned anything recently, some absolutely love me, and others downright despise me. Between my ears is just some batting, but my feelings are just as large as any Big walking out there on the street, so it hurts a bit for those who don’t.” I sighed. “I suppose if I really thought about it though, it probably all began the day I broke the rules. If you’re going to stay here, Mr. Duck,” I said, not knowing his name yet, “you ought to know everything first.” * * * Willy and I were in the playroom of Mommy’s and Daddy’s house, though I suppose most knew them as Robert and Emily Galpin. He struck it rich after they first got married in tech or something, so space was never really an issue here in a I guess what could classified as their mansion. Not the biggest on the block mind you, but impressive, nonetheless. I didn’t care one way or another really, but days like today, playing cops and robbers was an entirely different experience under this roof. “Bang! Bang-bang!” Willy shouted idly back and forth. A figure loomed behind a cardboard constructed bank and money lay strewn about on the ground. Amidst the mock gunfire, the money no longer seemed to be worth anything to either shooting party. “Bang!” Willy shouted again. “Ugh!” Willy said, mimicking the voice from the figure behind the bank to indicate that the last shot had met its intended target. I was guided out from behind my barricade by Willy and looked over the assailant, now lying wounded on the ground before me. “Youwe be pushin’ up daisies Mistuh Moo befo’ wong. No mo’ wobbin’ the banks fo’ you!” Willy said triumphantly, holding me up, a curved stick to stand in for a gun placed in my hand. Outside this scene, I was Tusk, but here, I was Officer Trunk, a decorated police officer and winner of the popsicle award for goodness. Before me, lay Mr. Moo, an aptly named cow lay outstretched on the floor and currently a failed bank robber of Marker City National. “You… you doody head! I’ll… I’ll geh you nex’ time, Officew Twunk,” Willy said in a raspy voice to mimic, Mr. Moo’s alter ego. It wasn’t perfect, but our battles had become legendary since Willy and I first came home. More importantly now though, Willy was happy here… or at least as one could be being a Little in this society. “Uhhhh…” Willy maneuvered Mr. Moo’s arm jerking up in the air for vengeance against me, and then let go. Mr. Moo, the curd of the playroom and robber of the local bank at least seven times this week, had perished by my righteous hand. “Excewent wouk, Offithe Twunk,” Willy said in a lower voice, now inserting himself into the situation as head of the specialized police force protecting Marker City, an apt name if there ever was one considering the amount of marker that had been used over the cardboard cutouts of buildings around us. “Ah, Inspecto Poof! We finawy ga’ Mistuh Moo,” Willy said, switching back to my alter ego. “Aftuh many hawd houwes we’ve…” “I don’t care what the other women have!” a voice shouted from the hallway. I had heard it enough to know that Daddy had come home from his investment company, though likely was still working here, and what’s more, he wasn’t happy about something with Mommy regarding Willy. ‘As usual…’ “You don’t understand, Robert. Bethany and Calliope both have their Littles being shown at the art fair next month,” Mommy said. “Emily, if their Littles went to Mars, I still wouldn’t care! Now, I have a meeting to get back to on the phone in my office,” Daddy said curtly. “Don’t bring this up again!” I was too distracted by the stomping I could hear afterward to notice that Willy had gotten up and was now taking me into the hallway, Mr. Moo, still left prone and ‘dead’ on the floor by the bank. Before leaving the room, Willy grabbed his backpack and dragged it behind him with his other hand not holding onto me. I inwardly groaned and dreaded what I suspected Willy was setting out to do. Moments later, Willy was in the living room and looked sadly at his mommy hunched over on the couch, nursing a glass of what I could only imagine was strong alcohol. It was a trend I had noticed that she had picked up with increasing regularity, particularly in the past month during the same time Daddy had increased his irate nature at home. I could see from my lowered position that Willy had seen the glass as well, but either didn’t understand or didn’t care. Either way, he reached into his undersea-themed backpack and pulled out a large sheet of paper. Quietly creeping as best he could with his still-crinkly diaper, he reached Mommy and held out the paper. “I made dis fo’ you, Mommy.” She looked up from her glass and at the paper and Willy. He had made it today at daycare and was very proud of his numerous fingerprints dotting the parchment. Close up, it was the inane and random smudges of any regressed Little. Further away though, it was a highly detailed butterfly, more beautiful and colorful than even real life. All the workers were impressed and could only ‘awww’ when Willy announced it was for his mommy because he knew that she liked them. Willy waited with bated breath as she looked over the picture. Any mommy worth their salt would have praised their Little, particularly one who had already been regressed. At this stage, if a Little was still showing this level of talent, any Big would have been immensely impressed, unless they stupidly wanted a Little at a newborn level. ‘I’m glad that trend isn’t around much anymore…’ I knew by now that Emily Galpin, Willy’s mommy, was not one who would ever consider a newborn level, but she also wasn’t the praising type either. As if to prove my point, she started to talk about it for a moment. “It’s nice, Willy, but mommy has to go. Show it to me later.” She stood up, her flowy and fashionable white pantsuit evening out as it hung off her skinny and meticulously groomed body out, before leaving the picture unceremoniously behind on the table in front of us. “I’ve got an afternoon luncheon with the girls. If you were older, you would understand.” She set her glass down and didn’t notice the now trembling piece of paper in Willy’s hand that he had picked up sadly after she had put it down. Mommy strutted to the door and grabbed her small leather purse that matched her outfit. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, but Nanny Sarah will take care of things, I’m sure.” She was halfway out the door when she suddenly turned back. I could see Willy’s hopes rise that she would mention the painting that he had presented to her. “Oh, and Daddy is working really hard today. Don’t disturb him if you know what’s good for you. Yeah…” she trailed off briefly but then perked right back up soon after. “Anyway, bye-bye, sweetie!” She waved her fingers and closed the door behind her. I always hated how she said, ‘sweetie.’ Normally, that word conveyed affection. With Mommy though, it felt deflated and more of an automatic response. One born out of necessity to be the in-fashion mommy and what was expected of her role, rather than a genuine nickname toward her Little. Looking away from the door, I stared up at my Little. The trembling painting now fell to the floor and Willy dragged himself back to the playroom. I could already hear the sniffling. It wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Not with these people. Now, I knew that Bigs inherently loved their own or even random Littles they met to the point of obsession and insanity sometimes, but like anything else, not everyone was alike. Some Bigs just cared more about other things, and I knew by now that Robert and Emily Galpin were sadly those types of Bigs. I suppose it would be like when not everyone coos over puppy dogs or kittens. Different, but not unheard of. In this case though, it was unbearable to just stand by and watch as an observer only with how much it affected my own regressed Little. Stuck in my own thoughts for a moment, I only snapped out of them when Willy suddenly stopped before entering the playroom and looked at the slightly ajar door on the other end of the house, the one leading to Daddy’s office. ‘No, Willy. Please… not there.’ But Willy couldn’t hear my thoughts. It was the negative of being a stuffy here… there were rules, and as much as I despised them, the consequences for going against them could be severe amongst toy kind. So, sure enough, in a few short minutes without my words of warning, Willy had waddled to Daddy’s office and pushed open the door. “Daddy?” “I don’t know, Bill.” He then noticed Willy and waved violently for him to go away. “It should be all on time.” Willy had been regressed and like most things, it came with its negatives towards Bigs as well as its positives. Not understanding all social cues or not reading a person’s demeanor from further away, had been casualties of the same treatment that required Willy to wear diapers now or have him call Emily and Robert as Mommy and Daddy respectively. I never failed to question how those two never got that concept with a Little. So, to my utter chagrin, Willy, not fully understanding the angry gesture from Daddy, took a few steps inside until he was directly looking at him, now seated behind his large oaken desk, his face bathed in the light of the new computer he had purchased for himself last month. “Daddy? I made dis fo’ Mommy. Do you wike?” In the pale light of technology, I saw Daddy’s face grow cross, and I braced for the storm I knew was about to happen. He cupped the phone’s receiver to block his sound and whispered angrily, “Willy! I’m on the phone. Go away.” I saw Willy’s face scrunch up. ‘Not good. Leave now, Willy. Leave now, before you do something we both regret.’ “Bu’ Daddy! I made dis fo’ Mommy. I…” Daddy stood up and held out a finger. Its effect was palpable, and Willy instantly stopped speaking. If it was all possible, Willy seemed to shrink into the wooden floor and ornate carpet underneath his sock-covered feet. “I’m going to have to put you on hold, Bill.” He paused. “Yes, it’s my Little. Someone isn’t listening.” His words were simple, but he nearly hissed them at the end. From my stealthy and passive ‘unreal’ state, I had heard many of the conversations between Mommy and Daddy. It didn’t take me long to realize that both only wanted a Little to boost their social status in this society, so some of the drawbacks of having a Little were detested and passed off by both onto each other or their hire housekeeper and nanny. As a caregiver, patience was paramount, but neither seemed to have a great capacity for it, as evidenced by the situation currently at hand. Daddy clicked a button on his phone calmly with a beep, likely the mute button, but then immediately stared at Willy with his most wretched face. I instantly knew that Willy needed to leave now, but he only stuck firm in his diminutive position, and like a bolt of lightning, Daddy struck hard. “Willy! I’m very disappointed in you. You’ve been a very bad boy for Daddy today. Go back to your playroom right now! You never interrupt me while I’m on a call. Do you understand?” “But Daddy…” Willy’s voice trembled. He then stood up and it wasn’t much, but it made Willy shrink to the floor even more if all possible. “I swear I don’t know what I’m going to do with you. Now, you obey me or else little baby.” “Buh…” Daddy’s nostrils flared and he furiously lunged over and clicked another button from a nearby console. “Sarah! Get in here. Now!” He clicked off. “Don’t make me get Mr. Paddle, Willy. You know you don’t like him, do you?” Willy shook his head as hard as he could, and I couldn’t blame him for the few uses that Mr. Paddle had actually been used in this household. At this point, it was more of a threat, but it was a palpable one, nonetheless. “Good. One more time in here while I’m working, and you’ll see just how wicked Mr. Paddle can get.” From experience I knew Daddy was practically always working, so what he really meant was never. Errrr! Daddy looked up as the door opened slowly with a creak and looked at the woman now standing before him. “Good, Sarah, you’re here.” “Yes, Mr. Galpin?” Sarah answered quickly, her blue dress and apron just settling from her hustle to answer Daddy’s call as quickly as possible. “Willy here is interrupting my call. Will you please take him from here?” Sarah hesitated and moved slowly into the room, being equally as nervous around Daddy as I would have been if I could move in front of others. Daddy’s impatience showed and he belted out, “Now!” She nearly yelped at his outburst and quickly nodded her head. “Yes, Mr. Galpin.” She then made a beeline for Willy, “Right away!” In seconds, Willy had been scooped up by Nanny Sarah and then removed from the room. As she exited, she made sure to close the door behind her. A click to the door signaled the ending of the short but tempestuous ordeal and Sarah quickly hustled away toward the playroom. Once out of earshot though, she looked at the still-trembling Willy whom she then had placed back on the floor. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry about all that. You know how he gets… best to just leave him be, right?” “Buh… buh… buh” Willy tried to make more words but instead only resorted to holding up the painting still in his hand. Tears bubbled and threatened to spill down his cheeks as Nanny Sarah leaned in to see what he was holding. “Oh? What’s this?” Nanny Sarah took the paper gently and held it out in front of her to look at it further. “Oh, wow! This is so beautiful, baby. You’re so talented.” She then bent down and nuzzled Willy and squeezed him tightly. From my position in Willy’s arms, Nanny Sarah was just once again proving why I liked her infinitely more than Willy’s real caregivers. Emily and Robert had their own strengths; this house’s size and decorations were a testament to that notion, but their caring natures had much to be desired. For a Little, their lack of certain qualities was a major gap and I despised that they had ever laid their eyes on and then plucked Willy out of that show room of sorts to be their Little. Nanny Sarah let Willy go, wiped an errant tear away from his cheek, and then brought us both back into the playroom, where she then gave Willy a quick diaper check before setting him down. “A little wet, but those diapers can hold a lot, so you should be good to go until after dinner at this point. No sense in wasting one around here, right?” Willy nodded, having grown accustomed to sitting in used diapers by now. I honestly would have been surprised if Willy had even noticed his diaper’s state if Nanny Sarah hadn’t pointed it out. She stood in the doorway for a second, still looking at the painting in her hands of the butterfly. “This is really good, Willy.” “Dank you…” he said reservedly, still looking dejected over the rejection of now both Mommy and Daddy. Nanny Sarah smiled sympathetically at Willy. “Tell you what, I’m going to put this on the fridge for your mommy and daddy to see later. I’m sure they’ll both love it when they’re more… free.” I could tell she wanted to say something more along the lines of, ‘more inclined to actually care about their Little like I do,’ but she knew it wasn’t her place as the nanny and maid of the household, no matter what her feelings were toward Willy. “You play a little more and I’ll be back in a little bit to check on you and take you to dinner. I’m sure you’ll love it!” She gave another half-hearted sympathy smile and vanished from view. Willy sat emotionless, quite the opposite from where we had started only minutes before. Meanwhile, Mr. Moo lay motionless in his position on the ground. Willy couldn’t tell, but I could see that Mr. Moo had moved about in the time we had been away. Holding a ‘dead’ pose for too long was never fun as a toy, but maintaining the illusion of us just being lifeless things to toss about was also one of our top priorities. “I don’ know, Tus’… Why doesn’ Mommy or Daddy wuv me?” I could see the tears as they fell pitifully from his face now. “I’m a widdle. Aw da way twu, bu’ dey don’ cawe! Befo’, I wan’ed fweedom an’ my ol’ wife back. Now, I jus’ wan’ a hug! Iss dat so much to as’?” ‘Darn. What to do? What to do?’ Willy was my Little and it was my responsibility to keep him healthy and safe to the best of my ability without revealing my true nature. It was toy law. Even new toys who thought they were space rangers or literal cats knew of the rule. No one ever questioned it; however, we all knew there was also an exception to it. Like most rules, there was the exception that proved the rule that I had just remembered about. In our case, a Little had to be in danger of some kind for a toy to intervene. To be frank, I always hated the caveat as it could be stretched to mean a lot of things. ‘Danger of what? From whom?’ There was too much gray area for my tastes for it to be a good exception to the law, though maybe it was that way so the toy could have some wiggle room on a case-by-case basis. Either way, Willy was now rocking back and forth, and tears were freely flowing from his eyes and dampening the firetruck onesie that he was currently wearing. In his despair, Willy had dropped me on the floor in front of him by the cardboard bank, and from there, I took stock of the situation. Despite the massive house we lived in, and every toy or piece of clothing Willy could possibly want, he was still unhappy. I knew deep down that the riches of the world couldn’t buy what Willy truly wanted at this point. Even more damnable was that Willy had been made this way. A Little was here to love and be loved by Bigs and Willy had been changed to fit that need to perfection, even when his Bigs didn’t reciprocate those feelings back in a meaningful way. So now, it was the Bigs that threatened to tear his heart in half and that was something that hit me hard right in the gut, but I also knew that it was all very dangerous for everyone involved. We toys tend to talk in our free time and I knew that this had happened before in two cases. With the first, the toy had done nothing about their dejected Little until it was too late. The Little regressed fully and lost any part of themselves to self-loathing and hatred. Knowing the Bigs which usually led to such an event, the Little was often given up for adoption and then became a hopeless case after one rejection already. The prognosis for a Little ever having a happy life after that was usually pretty remote and ultimately grim. The other scenario was worse though. Having Littles from all types of backgrounds, it was inevitable that one with a military background would endure the same treatment one day. The White Valley Mall Incident had been etched into every mind, Big, Middle, or Little since then. In the end, dozens of Bigs lay dead or injured and the Little… well, we all just knew that it wasn’t a happy ending. ‘No. Not my Willy…I can’t let that happen. Not to him…’ So with a heavy breath, I gathered my strength and got up from where I had fallen and walked calmly over to Willy. Nearby, Mr. Moo looked at me with horror and yet recognition over what I was doing. He shook his head as much as possible to dissuade me, but my path forward was clear. As a Little, Willy was subject to the Bigs. As a stuffy though, I was subject to Willy, and Willy needed me in a way that transcended the typical relationship that most Littles and their stuffy’s had. I took another long breath and took my leap of faith. “Willy… Willy?” He continued crying and rocking himself in an effort to self-soothe. It wasn’t working, so I tried again. “Willy,” I said more strongly. He stopped. ‘That got his attention…’ “Wha…? Who said dat?” Willy looked all around; panic stricken after seeing the empty room and equally empty doorway. “Willy… down here…” Will looked at me and blinked his eyes in disbelief. Willy’s eyes were full of fear and apprehension over what he thought he had just heard from his favorite companion. This situation rarely presented itself, so there was no how-to manual on how to proceed as a toy. I didn’t want to screw this up, so I went in light, and I merely waved at him casually. “Hey.” Willy rubbed his eyes to no doubt ensure he wasn’t imagining things. When he saw my little arm waving again, he rubbed again, now more furiously and once he saw that I wasn’t going away, began shaking his head. “Oh no… no, no, no… I finawy did ih’… I cwacked. I’m da widdle who cwacked unda’ da stwain… bye-bye bih’ house, hewo padded ceww…” ‘Crud. He thinks he’s losing it…’ I knew it was now or never, so I reached out and touched his shoulder gently to reassure my friend. “Willy… I know this is a lot, but you’re not going crazy. I promise. Cross my heart even.” He looked at me both in relief and confusion and stopped his rocking for a moment. “Now, I know you’ve been through a lot, so I’m breaking a big rule by doing this, but we need to talk.”

Gwen smiles as she sipped her coffee and scrolled through social media. It was a lovely morning everything was going perfect her wife was happy the baby was still sleep but it felt like she was still missing something. As gwen was scrolling through facebook she saw an ad that said Interested in getting alittle find one the perfect way through our Agency. Call 1-800-adopt To find out how to get the perfect little. Gwen read the post twice before she could even consider it. Her and her wife Erin already had a little named Payton. Gwen loved payton as huge as the ocean she was one of the sweetest little ever. Her behavior was very good unlike most littles but that’s what gwen wanted a challenge Payton was to peasy to break gwen wonder if she could even handle another little but she knew Erin would be great help like she is with payton. Gwen read the ad one more time before dialing the number she decided to set up an appointment with the agency to see more about adopting a little. Gwen sat and pondered for a minute remembering the day they got payton. It was just a random day working when they heard one of there workers talking about a apartment building that let out all the little tenants so Gwen and Erin decided to go check it out. Long story short payton needed there help so she just willing went as there baby. They love it though she super adorable especially in her little dance class she goes too. Gwen finished her coffee poured herself another glass and erin one too the brought it upstairs to her. “ Good morning honey “ Gwen said smiling holding the cup of coffee.