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Warning 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 Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination (some male) Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings 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. Hey everyone! I just want to say welcome back and that I am looking forward to completing this story. Pretty much as soon as I wrote the previous story, How an Elephant Saved Their Little, I came up with most of this plot. I will attempt to explain certain elements, but I expect that some background elements may be rushed or explained later, which could be confusing for some of you newer readers. Also, as it will be following a Big, some elements might be a little different than other DD stories, but if what I’ve seen on here is anything to go by, I think you all should enjoy a lot of the elements involved. Moving on, I’ve been watching the Olympics lately. Considering all that is happening in Paris right now, with my excitement in watching, there is a part of me that feels I should have at least included my DD Olympic story in the last poll. Still, I am still happy with writing this story and I have yet another idea for a story. As a future note though, I will probably include the original Olympic story in the long future (2026 at the earliest I’m guessing) at this point, but I’ll have plenty of stories until then as long as you all keep reading them. Next, speaking of the future, I will be trying an online poll for the voting of my next story. If I’ve set it up correctly, there should only be one vote per IP address. I will likely shut down the poll or delete it entirely once I have posted the results in the final chapter of this story as usual, but until then, I’m using this as a bit of a test going forward. It should be completely anonymous, so I think that will help garner more votes than before. Expect this to be included with the second chapter, which should be posted tomorrow or the day after. Also, as a bit of a side note here, I might be retconning something, but I don’t think I am in saying that the location for this story is in their version of Indianapolis. I have looked through all my notes, and due to my inclusion of ‘Queens Island’ in my previous story, I know it’s at least in that general area (being a few hours car drive away as mentioned in chapter 13), but I can’t seem to find an actual city name. I will fully admit that I wasn’t as organized back then with the locations in Libertalia, so it could be an oversight… like how I don’t mention a location in The CON series and retconned why later. I will investigate this much more thoroughly after my upcoming trip, but I just wanted to at least put that out there in case someone caught something that I haven’t at this point. Last but not least, I hope everyone enjoys the first chapter of this next story! Chapter 1: Sheets Bearing Marks of the Past Mildred and I were helping our precious Littles with their own bags to go to daycare tomorrow. The day would come early and between diaper changes, getting each of them dressed, and then out the door and into our van to take them to daycare, it would be enough of a challenge. At the task’s base, it was like wrestling with twitchy cute puppies. As a carer of the Littles under my charge, I performed my duties and remarked upon their cuteness, but that didn’t make the tasks any easier. Further, though, I had two other factors that kept my Littles more challenging than was usual in most cities of Libertalia. First, most had been regressed recently and were still coping with their losses from who they used to be. It’s hard to blame a Little for being upset of pooping helplessly in their diapers now when they might have once commanded a fleet of ships or walked down the runway in a gorgeous dress. Second, and more important to Safehouse 81 though, nearly every Little under my charge had been affected by some tragedy or had faced an abuse of some kind in their past. After all, being a safehouse for Littles in this type of society, we had to expect those sorts of residents under our roof. It was tragic, but we made sure each of our Littles were kept safe, were healthy, and knew they were cared for at the end of the day. Mildred and Penelope helped me out with them about as much as they could. Admittedly, of the two full-time employees here, Mildred helped to a lesser degree due to her Middle size, but Penelope more than made up for that and was essentially my second in command around here. She had already lightened my burdens recently by forming an attachment with Willy, a recently arrived Little who was escaping troubles of his own. Traumatized from his past and with only a stuffed animal, Tusk, to help ease his mind, I was glad he was feeling that relief here now at least. “Mildred,” I addressed to my shorter assistant currently stuffing Gina’s backpack, “make sure that she gets the ham sandwich without the crusts. She’s still particular about those kinds of things and the last thing we need to put on the daycare now is another tantrum from her if she... changes again like she did last week.” “Right, right. Definitely don’t want that,” she nodded back to me. “And the veggie chips instead of the nacho cheese ones, right?” I nodded and smiled over her increased awareness over the individual needs of the Littles under our care. She was still a prospective member of the staff, but her instincts were strong, and she had a good heart. Gina was spacing out again, experiencing one of her changes, a sad reminder of her own regression process, so now it was mostly up to Mildred to finish packing her bag and I was glad that she was taking to her tasks so well now. For the multiple backpacks I was packing, I finally looked down at Harry, continually perched and curious at the edge of the table where I was working. “Okay, champ… carrots or cucumbers tomorrow?” I wanted to give my Littles as many options in life as I could. Daily items or events like diapers and naptimes were non-negotiable under my roof if I deemed them necessary, but where was possible, I tried to give where I could. “Ummm… cawwots, pwease.” I smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. I was trying to instill manners in him after he came here over a month ago now. It had taken a lot of my patience, but coming from a Little smuggling operation, I couldn’t blame him for being a little blunt and rough around the edges. Still, he was making quick progress lately and I made a mental note to give him an extra cracker tomorrow when he got home from daycare if he wanted it. “Very good, Harry.” I turned over to Gina and wondered how the other Littles were doing upstairs. They were more regressed, but I still wanted to give them their options for tomorrow at daycare while they were likely still awake and playing with their babyish toys. Still, it was getting late, so I tapped Gina on the shoulder to try and get her out of her mental fog. “Gina? You in there, sweetie?” Gina turned around and grinned at me, her curly blonde hair twirling about as she did so, and her few missing teeth becoming rapidly apparent. She had been pulled out of the regression facility before they could truly deform her like her abusive original caregivers wanted, but the facility’s marks and effects on her mentality were still painfully obvious, especially when she was in this state. “Gina… do you wanna pick out the story tonight before bed?” I questioned further, now that I had her attention as best I could. Gina rapidly nodded her head up and down. “Uh huh! Maybe da pwincess one?” Her enthusiasm was near electric and contagious, but it still burdened my heart to see her like this. Working with her here and at the daycare, her incidents like these had dropped significantly, but it still hurt to witness when they did pop up. When she wasn’t in this regressed near-fugue state, her speech was unaffected and she held herself in an almost dignified way… or at least as dignified one could get while always holding her stuffed Octopus, Mindy. I had learned long ago to never try and remove Mindy from her arms. In a way, it just added to the tragedy of her story, a sadly familiar one that I had grown accustomed to over the years. Regardless, I was glad she had at least made a choice tonight. It would make her happy and that was my job here. Keep my Littles safe and happy. “Very good. I’ll make sure we read the one with Princess Lavendar tonight. I think she’s going to meet the gnome king and become the best of friends with him. Doesn’t that sound fu…?” The windows burst inward as two small black and shimmery objects were launched through them. Glass shattered and covered the floor. I immediately tried to grab Harry, Gina, and Mildred, but I was too late. The two blasts rocketed the whole house. More glass fell and I became dazed as men in black soon breached the house with a tremendous smash of my front door. The filed in one at a time and surrounded everyone as they knocked over furniture to clear their path. A single cabinet had fallen and partially blocked their way to the back kitchen though. Still, they then wasted no time and began hauling everyone together, upstairs and down. Even through my daze, I could see that one of them, likely the leader from the directions he issued out, had a very distinct snake tattoo crawling up one of their arms. I wanted to fight back, but I just felt nauseous, and my head felt like it was about to pop. Then, before I knew what hit me, that same tattooed man was pulling me to my feet. “You. We’re looking for this Little.” He shoved a picture in my face. It was a little blurry, but I quickly recognized it as snapshot of Willy with his stuffy. When I didn’t answer immediately, he shook the picture harder in front of my face and snarled at me. “We know he’s here from your database registration. Where is he?” Willy was new here, but he was now one of mine. I had made an oath to every one of my Littles and to the state that no matter what, I would protect these innocent smaller beings with my life. Being the leader of a safehouse often meant staring down the long barrel of threats from those who wished to do the residents here any harm. Such was the prejudice and malice of our world. Today however, was the first time a safehouse had been smashed into. Considering the high number of penalties against these men if they were ever caught, that wasn’t surprising, but regardless, my task remained the same. Keep my Littles safe. So, taking a deep breath and easing my nerves and getting ready for what was likely to come against me consequently, I straightened up, and looked at the man with the snake tattoo with about as much defiance as I could. “Those records are sealed. Only an admin or cop can access those, but anyway, the Little doesn’t look familiar.” My head lashed out at me, and the lights all seemed about 80% too bright from some reason, but I knew I had to keep up my defiance. Smashing the safehouse’s front window like that had set off a silent alarm. Help was on its way, but I still needed to play for more time now. “Hard to recall with the pounding in my head. You wouldn’t have done something naughty like that to a bunch of innocent Littles, would you?” I couldn’t help but taunt these men. If caught, I knew their punishments would be far worse than anything they could do to me. I had a few friends in the justice department, and I heard the rumors like everyone else. Dark Cliff Prison was a hole that every lost cause Little and every substantial criminal Big feared and never wanted to go to. For criminals like these, breaking into a safehouse was a one-way ticket right to their front door. Instead of pure rage as I had suspected though, the tattooed man gritted his teeth, groaned ever so slightly, and defiantly forced the picture in front of my face again. “I won’t ask you again. Where is he?” Before I could deny him again, I thought I heard a small groan coming from the kitchen. Not seeing either in the lineup of the resto f the safehouse in front of me, Willy and Penelope were in there still, and considering this tattooed man wanted him, likely dead or alive, I knew I only had one choice. So, hoping to press for more time and just hating the man on general principle, I looked back defiantly at the intruder to my house. “Screw you.” My words were direct and uncompromising. I had no intention of telling him where Willy was. With any luck, Willy would flee out the back. He was a Little, and that could be problematic, but he seemed to have some sort of strange luck or guardian angel on his side whenever trouble seemed to find him. Whatever the case truly was though, I just hoped they were with him tonight. The tattooed man didn’t take kindly to my blunt refusal of his question though and my insult of him after either. All at once, with one strike, his fist slammed into the side of my face. I fell to the ground. As I collapsed, Harry, Gina, and a few of the other Littles they were now gathering around me downstairs shrieked in terror. “Get the brats upstairs now!” the tattooed man commanded his men. “Lock ‘em in and hit ‘em with the smoke.” Four of his six goons nodded and at gunpoint, forced all my terrified Littles upstairs along with Mildred. They still weren’t looking in the kitchen, so I at least knew that Penelope or Willy was okay and moving around to escape. While the main tattooed man watched over me, his gun pointed right at my head as I managed to perch myself back on my knees, I began to try and figure a way out of this. Moments later though, even after thinking of a half dozen or so escape plans, my mind just couldn’t think straight, as I could hear the bang of a door and then a faint hiss coming from upstairs. A few tiny screams were soon muffled silent. Soon after, the men came back downstairs, alone. “Is it done?” the tattooed man asked insistently. “Yes, sir!” one of them answered quickly. “The Littles are locked away and the gas has been deployed. In such a confined space, they’re all out and memories of tonight will only be foggy at best.” “Good.” Seemingly satisfied that the majority of the house had been neutralized, the tattooed man then turned his attention back to me. “Now, your little ones are all upstairs and unconscious for the moment. Helpless,” he emphasized as he stroked the large knife on his belt. “Tell me where the Little known as Willy Galpin is, or things might just get nasty.” I panicked as I began to see the other goons begin searching the other floors and the rest of this one. Due to the elongated nature of the house and the debris left from the two grenade explosions previously, more furniture had been knocked over. It meant more obstacles for them and places to hide in general, and therefore the more time it took for the goons to search everywhere and reach the back kitchen. That being said, I knew it was only a matter of time before they did. Then, as if to answer my question about Penelope or Willy, I saw a speck of movement in the back kitchen. It wasn’t much, but I knew at least one of them were still here and actively moving about. If it was Willy, I was relying on his Little and likely scared nature to flee without question. If it was Penelope, I knew she would want to help me, being the good and loyal worker that she was in the safehouse, but I had instructed anyone who worked for me that the safety of the Littles was always a top priority. Knowing her, she wouldn’t defy that directive and Willy would be safe then as well. “Might still be upstairs… fifth floor,” I told the tattooed man with a sigh and look of defeat on my face. I was acting about as best I could, my right cheek already swelling from where the man had hit me. It was an outright lie, but again, I just hoped it would be enough of a delaying tactic for Willy or Penelope and Willy to escape. To my chagrin, just as the other goons went upstairs to fully check the house based on my suggestion, a near deafening squeak went off in the room. It came from nearby, and I had no idea what would have made that sound, except for one of the toys, but it didn’t matter. The goons practically rocketed back down the stairs and the one goon searching the dining room, about to move to the kitchen, ran to the noise as well. Curiously enough, I saw the backdoor pivot ever so slightly. Whoever I had seen move back there before, was now clearly on the move and likely gone from the house. I couldn’t help but smile in relief. “There’s nothing here, boss!” One of the goons reached down at picked up Eddy, Harry’s stuffed chimp. “Just this old, stupid stuffed animal.” The tattooed man groaned and only pointed for another goon to point their gun at me. Without a single word, he stalked over to the stuffed chimp, snatched him away, gripped the stuffy tight, and with fixed and deep fingers on its throat, snarled and tossed Eddy across the room. “You idiots! Go find Willy now! Move!” Everyone started to depart, but just as I felt that Willy would be safe, the tattooed man looked back toward the kitchen and saw the backdoor swinging slightly in the night breeze. “Wait!” Every single goon still within earshot stopped at once. “Did any of you morons check the back?” It was immediately evident that they hadn’t. The tattooed man groaned again and ran to the kitchen. “For the love of…! There’s a whole other Big back here and…” From the passageway to the back, I could just make out as his eyes darted all around. “You!” He quickly pointed to the clearly younger goon who had been tasked to search the first floor. Reluctantly, he jogged over. “Yes, boss?” The tattooed man picked up a bagged lunch and held it in front of the younger goon. “How the hell did you miss this?” The younger goon could only stare back at the tattooed man, clearly terrified, and unable to make a sound to save himself. “Someone was back here making their lunch for tomorrow.” One hand grabbed the younger goon and his other hand pointed sternly to the figure on the floor I knew was definitely Penelope with the more cleared debris between us now. “Here’s the Big… now where is the Little who belongs to this bagged lunch?” Before he had a chance to speak, another goon came from his previous searching of the upstairs. “Sir! There’s no one else up here! Fifth floor or otherwise!” The tattooed man shoved the younger goon backward. “You all!” he directed to his other goons, totaling about five, including the one who had just come back downstairs. “Find the Little. He can’t have gone far! You all better not fail me!” “Yes, sir!” the chorus of them rang out, saluting right before they dashed out the back entrance to find Willy. I hoped he could avoid them well enough, but I didn’t have much time to hope. With the other goons gone, Penelope very much unconscious, and the other members of my staff and the Littles being locked and apparently knocked out upstairs, I was essentially all alone. Before I could think a single further thought, the tattooed man growled and raced over to me. His eyes seemed hand picked from the bowels of the fiery core of the planet and as he picked me up, I felt completely helpless under his sheer power. The snake wrapping around his arm bulged with ease as I was nearly catapulted into a wall above his head. My feet dangled powerlessly off the floor. “Thought you could play a little trick on us, huh?” he barked at me. I didn’t say anything, and with a huff, the man tossed me back on the floor. “Stupid Big! You’re a traitor to your own kind!” He then spit on me and walked around me like a lion getting ready for their kill of the antelope. I swallowed as best I could in fear. I had delayed Willy enough that he had escaped. I just hoped it would be enough. For him, it might have been, but for the tattooed man, it was likely the worst-case scenario. With him still panting and grunting as he circled me, I didn’t make a sound, which seemed to only upset him more. In seconds after about his fifth rotation, he lunged in at me. That’s when the punches started to rain down on me. One after another. His relentless fury had been unleashed and I could feel the weight of his failure in capturing Willy outright as each fist slammed into my body. He didn’t even seem to care where he hit though, smashing nearly every square inch of my body. Even as blood squirted from my mouth and one of the open cuts now on my forehead over his black uniform, he didn’t care. In fact, as I began to turn into a bloody pulp, I could see a smile grow over his face. I felt a blackness begin to creep in. I felt like death had come for me. It wasn’t how I wanted to go out, but I had helped as many Littles as I could. I suppose there were worst ways… Just as I felt seconds away from the end though, the tattooed man suddenly stopped. Relief surged through my body. Only hearing about the beating of my own heart in my ears, I wasn’t sure if the cops had finally showed up. I felt they were much slower than they should have been, but regardless, I wasn’t being hit anymore. Unfortunately, my fear didn’t abate. Instead of purely stopping and running away from the cops though as I had hoped, the tattooed man, fists bloody and smeared in my blood, smiled. It sent chills down my back, and despite my pain, I could think of nothing else over the verry meaning of that cruel vindictive and playful smirk. If a cat could grin as it was about to swallow the canary whole, I imagine what I saw before me would have been exactly that. “Bring me the shot…” He said it with such finality to the younger goon. It was just ‘the shot.’ Nothing more. Like a serial killer everyone should fear and know about, it was so simple and yet so terrifying. But I could see the fear through the eyeholes of the mask the younger goon wore. His hands even trembled as he nodded and went to a case I had just noticed nearby. Producing a single shot with some kind of silvery substance, the tattooed man took it gleefully. It was massive and I tried to fight back. Clearly, I didn’t want it, especially based on the younger goon’s reaction, but my beaten body couldn’t do anything about it. So, with a sick and twisted smile, the tattooed man flicked the needle twice. “You want to protect the Littles so much? How about a taste, huh?” I was confused, but again, I didn’t have time to think. Without a single hesitation or flick of the wrist, the man turned the needle over like a dagger ready to plunge in my heart and thrust the needle straight down into my body. * * * “No!” I bolted upright in bed and clutched my chest where the needle had stabbed me that night. There was no wound… no pain anymore. Sadly though, it didn’t seem to matter. It had already been two weeks since that night. Our advanced Big medicine in our technologically advanced society had mostly cured me after the three days I had spent in the hospital. I still had a few lingering bruises, but I was considered a ‘miracle of modern medicine’ to even be alive as compared to even a few decades ago. I didn’t feel that way though… Sure, I was alive, and I could walk by myself now, so that was a bonus, but I had been having more nightmares recently about that night. Each one filled in more details from what I had forgotten about when I first woke up, and each was worse than the last one. I had in fact helped Willy and the others out, but I could still feel the tattooed man’s fists pound into me each night since I had come home. I could feel the heat of his body as he sat above me and beat me bloody. In truth, I was still very much afraid of him and so many other things now. But that wasn’t the worst part… All that was terrible. I will never deny that, and my diagnosed PTSD was going to take time to heal. I knew that and I had been told the same thing at least two dozen times by now. Unfortunately, though, as I lifted the sheets, I saw my larger problem. There, right by my crotch, was a soaked bed. It had only started at the hospital after my first nightmare about that night. The nurses were wonderful, and the doctor simply chalked it up to lingering ‘symptoms of stress.’ I hoped he was right, and for a time he was, but now, this was the third time in the past week… and it just seemed to be getting worse. My accident tonight looked almost twice as large as the first one I had on my last day in the hospital. So, doubt began to enter my mind and a single question plagued me every day; what was in that shot? I had tried researching it on my own, but I had no such luck. No answers… just more dead ends every day. Still, as I heard others begin to stir on the floors below me, I knew I couldn’t dwell on the situation. If I waited any longer, someone could see. A Little wetting the bed was a daily occurrence at Safehouse 81, and even a Middle could have the occasional problem, but a Big… that was just unheard of… taboo even. So, I gathered all my sheets, quickly stripped and wiped myself off, before running to the washer on the floor below me. While I stayed on the seventh floor, the rest of my staff stayed on the sixth. I knew it was a risk, and my pulse pounded as I trapsed down the steps to the washer there, but as I dumped in my sheets and pajamas, I felt finally… “Miss G?” I spun around and saw Penelope staring back at me. “What… what are you doing down here?” “Oh…” I tried to wrack my brain to think of an answer… any answer. My sheets were only halfway stuffed into the top loader washer, so the wet stains were very unfortunately as plain as day. “Uh… what are you doing up so early? Isn’t today one of your break days?” I tried to deflect. Penelope nodded her head. “That’s right, but I go jogging on my days off. You remember, right?” ‘Crap!’ I was still having a few memory lapses from right before that night. Considering that could be linked to my bedwetting though, I tried to pass it off. “Oh, of course! Right, right. You started… before… and all…” Penelope nodded, but then looked back at me questioningly and then even more so to the sheet behind me. “So… uh, is everything okay, Miss G?” I cursed my luck that this had happened the one day she had definitely had off in the mornings. Mildred and Jackie were on staff today for most of the Littles with us currently. After the assault, the safehouse agency we worked out of had given us a lighter duty in the area. Safehouse 82 would be taking in most of the Little not already under our care. Still, I knew I needed to give Penelope an answer. “Uh… just some stress sweats at night. Trauma and all that… you know?” Penelope looked at me with an odd look, and if I had been any more paranoid, I might have associated it with the look I gave myself to the Littles who didn’t believe the story they were being fed. Still, for now, Penelope seemed satisfied after another moment. “I see. Maybe you should go see someone about it?” If she suspected anything, she certainly wasn’t letting on, but still… to be frank, I was afraid to see another doctor. Given the unknown qualities of the shot I was given and my recent bed wetting, there were just too many unknowns in our society about the consequences of seeing someone so official. “No… I think I’ll be okay. Most of the crew has already been convicted or killed at this point after that incident at the warehouse with Willy and the gang they were all working for. I think I just need some time.” Penelope looked at me with a deep-set concern. I knew she wanted to help me… After all, she was the one that had called for the ambulance once she came to after the tattooed man and the rest of the goons had left. She sported a nasty bump on her head, one that was the aftermath of the furniture that had knocked her unconscious during the ordeal, but now, I could see she carried guilt over what had happened to me. I insisted I was fine, but her caring instincts were hard to quiet. She heavily sighed but then plucked her ear buds out of her armband. “Okay… just take some time if you need it… or if you ever want to talk, I’m…” “Thank you, Penelope.” I knew I was rather abrupt with my thanks, but it seemed to do the trick and Penelope gave one final reassuring smile and wave, and then trotted off downstairs. With her gone and my laundry in the wash, I quickly began my day and started to put another wet bed out of my mind. Gina, Harry, and the other Littles milled around their various cribs and beds. Not having any newborn Littles with us currently, the rest just required a few diaper changes. Of the five Littles with us still, it just so happened that each required diapers 24/7. Being a safehouse, it’s just how it was. Regardless of the start of my own morning though, I continued at my job like I always had. We received one new Little, Jonathan, who actually managed to pass the test to stay on the second floor, marking them as the most mature Little under our care here. Once he had settled in and started to mind his own business and reflect on his safety here like all others did, I went to work with the other aspects of Littlecare in a city safehouse. Jackie and Mildred were hard at work, and I quickly joined in with them. Mildred was a Middle but was one of our most diligent employees. Despite being the newest around here and considered an ‘intern,’ I was already considering offering her an official job in the next few weeks. Seeing her soothe Harry when he was running around and then tripped and started bawling, the few reservations I had with her were soon vanishing. The day continued much like that, and just as Jackie went back to her own home after her 12-hour shift, being only a part-time employee here, Penelope started on. She made quick work of making dinner for everyone and starting to plan out the schedules for the upcoming weekend. Everything was going just like it had before that terrible night, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Normalcy like this felt good. “What is this?” Jonathan asked as Mildred placed his tray in front of him on the table. Being the unregressed Little he was, he only required a booster seat at the table. Harry, Gina, and two others had been fed first, and two more had been fed after them. Now, it was just Jonathan and Ian. “It’s just some avocado, orange slices, and a bit of chili over half an English muffin. No tricks and nothing strange, I promise,” I said reassuringly to our latest charge. Mildred hesitated but I nodded her off back to the kitchen. I knew by now she could handle Jonathan, but I was already there to make sure that Ian at his food. The despondent Little slowly began to eat, but like usual, never made a sound. He had trauma like the rest of them, but unlike the others, his was written all over his body and actions with his never lightening mood. “So why is the plate a different color then?” Jonathan poked at his bright blue plastic tray with distrust. I couldn’t blame him. Littles were often subjected to the worst imaginable treatments out there, but still, he needed to eat while he was here with us. I refused to let a Little go hungry under my watch. “I promise that nothing is out of the ordinary.” Jonthan still looked at me with distrust painted all over his face. I sighed and I was feeling puckish myself, so I opted for the ‘nuclear’ option. “How about this? I eat a bit of your food, just so you know it’s okay, alright?” I could see the cogs in Jonthan’s mind already start to turn. It was a good sign, and I was glad that it at least seemed to be working. Bigs offering to eat a Little’s food was never a good practice or habit to get into. Sadly, food manufacturers more often than not slipped in extra chemicals to embarrass or even regress, temporarily or otherwise, a Little. Considering that Penelope had made most of the meal from natural ingredients, I wasn’t worried in this case though. While not as potent for us Bigs, laced Little food could still make for an uncomfortable following hour in the bathroom. Fortunately, though, Jonathan accepted my offer. The food was far too sweet for my taste, adhering to a Little’s preferences rather than a Bigs, but I got it down and Jonathan ate the rest of his food without complaint. Next though, was the staff and I’s dinner. Our food was pretty like what we had served the Littles, and while that wasn’t always the most exciting, I had learned long ago that Littles seeing something they could never have always been a bad idea. They could accuse us Bigs, or in Mildred’s case, Middle, of being unfair and withholding from them. So, we all then took a seat and began to eat our plainer food while the rest of the Littles were already asleep or happily reading a book or watching Adventure Sam in the nearby living room. The cartoon TV show was good for multiple mental ages, and occasionally, I even saw Jonathan peak up every once in a while, at it as ‘Sam’ traveled around our world and showcased the various animals and wonders of nature. Most Littles being from Earth these days, always gawked at the sheer scope and variety our world had to offer. Apparently, the woolly mammoth had been extinct on their planet for thousands of years. Here, though, it was just a trip to the zoo to see. Still, I could always see the wonderment in their eyes. For a brief moment, nothing else seemed to matter to them and I had to imagine that it gave them a sense of peace in a way. Still, with them settled, the rest of my staff, tonight only Mildred and Penelope, as Vivian was currently on vacation, seemed delighted with the food. For my own part, I sighed and wished for a good bottle of wine and some Itali food, but food was food. Interestingly enough though, as soon as the first spoonful of the chili hit my mouth, I couldn’t stop eating. I quickly ravished through my plate. Every crumb, piece of corn, and even juicy drop of the oranges at the end was a delight I just couldn’t get enough of. I had never experienced something so amazing in all my life. I was even sad to see that I had finished, but just as I set my plate down, having pulled it closer to my mouth to increase my speed of eating, I looked back at my staff. Penelope and Mildred were looking right at me, both clearly confused and maybe even a little horrified after what they had just seen. I quickly realized that they had witnessed every little detail of that event. My devouring had likely taken on an odd quality and one of madness or barbarity. I couldn’t help it, but seeing their faces, I knew I had to quickly play it off. I was their leader and showing weakness, in an already tense and shaky environment after the break-in, was something I simply couldn’t allow. “Whew!” I said exaggeratedly. “That was some meal, Penelope! I must have not eaten that much today. Just couldn’t get enough of it.” I tried to smile and joke, and while Mildred seemed to join in on the hilarity of the scene, I saw something lingering in Penelope’s face. Even behind her eventual smile, I could see something lurking there. Regardless though, the dishes were cleaned, all the Littles went to bed, and I made sure everything was set for tomorrow. It was still another weekday, but all the Littles were going back to daycare. They had been since the break-in, but tomorrow was going to be their first full day back, as opposed to the half days we had been adhering to for the past week and a half. So, with all that done, I closed my eyes and drifted asleep. * * * I felt a blackness begin to creep in. I felt like death had come for me. It wasn’t how I wanted to go out, but I had helped as many Littles as I could. Just as I felt seconds away from the end though, the tattooed man stopped. Relief surged through my body, but that only lasted for what felt like a few seconds. Instead of fully stopping, the tattooed man, fists bloody and smeared in my blood, smiled. It sent chills down my back, and despite my pain, I could think of nothing else. If a cat could grin as it was about to swallow the canary whole, I imagine what I saw before me would have been that. “Bring me the shot…” He said it with such finality to the younger goon. It was just ‘the shot.’ Nothing more. Like a serial killer everyone should fear and know about, it was so simple. But I could see the fear through the eyeholes of the mask the younger goon wore. His hands even trembled as he nodded and went to a case I had just noticed nearby. Producing a single shot with some kind of silvery substance, the tattooed man took it gleefully. It was at least a foot long and I tried to fight back. It was useless. I was too weak and beaten, and he was simply too strong. Then, with a sick and twisted smile, the tattooed man flicked the needle twice. “You want to protect the Littles so much? How about a taste, huh?” I was confused, but again, I didn’t have time to think. Without a single hesitation or flick of the wrist, the man turned the needle over like a dagger ready to plunge in my heart and thrust the massive needle straight down into my chest. * * * “No!” I bolted up again in my bed. My eyes darted around, and I tried to find some bearings of where I was. I was scared and confused, and I felt very small for some reason. To my relief though, I knew I was in my bedroom and the tattooed man had been dead for some time now. As I came to my senses though, to my dismay, I knew I had wet the bed again. “Shit.” Hearing more shuffling from downstairs through the floor, this time much earlier than usual, I rushed downstairs without thought. I hadn’t even bothered to wash myself off. I could always do more laundry when everyone else was busy… or so I thought. Right as I piled my soaked pajamas and sheets into the was again, I heard someone speak up from behind me. “I thought as much…” I spun around, and to my horror, I saw Penelope standing right there with a look of both annoyance and deep concern. “Penelope… it’s… it’s not what you think. I swear!” I could feel the fear of being discovered begin to gurgle up from my stomach. I felt like I was going to puke on the spot. Penelope sighed. “It’s okay, Miss G. I understand what happened… but we can’t keep doing this. I’ve seen you here before even yesterday. You aren’t as quiet as you think you are…” I swallowed and never thought that she would be awake if it wasn’t her morning shift. A constant night owl, she usually elected for the afternoon and night shifts here, but I should have known better. Her door looked right across the hallway at the washer and dryer room. It wouldn’t have taken her much to notice my presence here nearly every morning recently. “I knew you were hiding something, but this…” I was terrified she was going to make a scene, but instead, she just walked over and pinched a dry spot of my sheets and pulled them up a little to see the extent of the wet patch on them. It was horrible and I just wanted to die or bury myself in a hole someplace. “This is something more.” She turned to me, and all the annoyance or anger or whatever I saw before, was now gone. Instead, there was only sympathy and her previous look of concern. “We need to get you to the doctor. I’ve already called Jackie just in case this happened. They’ll think you’ve got the flu or something. Being around Littles, we all know how much that can happen.” I cracked the faintest of smiles. I could tell she was trying to get me to feel better at this point and truly was coming from a place of concern for my well-being. Embarrassing, but as she had mentioned, being around Littles just got one sicker than normal. The whole staff still remember the puking incident last summer when one stomach bug floated into our safehouse. It wasn’t pretty, and I just tried to get myself to think of this whole mess as just another version of that. It wasn’t, but the tiny relief the notion gave me was a welcome feeling. So, I quickly showered and piled myself into the car while Penelope drove me away. I wasn’t feeling up to it anyways, but it also maintained the illusion that I was sick. Littles under our care may have been damaged, abused, and regressed in all the ways one could be, but they had a curiosity and saw the world very much for what it was. If I left singing a tune and as happy as a clam, each one of them would have questioned me rigorously when we returned. A short drive later, Penelope parked in front of a pleasant brick and glass building. It seemed like dozens of other recently added office parks throughout the suburbs of the city and I at least admired the well-maintained flowers embedded in the flowerbeds around the base of the building. “Come on,” Penelope coaxed me out of the car, “he’ll be waiting.” “He?” For some reason, normally being the ‘in-charge’ person that I was, I normally scheduled all my appointments. This one though, I was going in completely blind. Penelope nodded and nudged me toward the door. “Yes, he. Dr. Benson is one of the best in the city at treating Bigs who have been…” She trailed off and I froze in place. “Penelope…” I tried to use my sterner voice on her but standing there and coming here for wetting the bed, I couldn’t help but feel a little weakened. “Is this doctor for…” I looked around to see if anyone was nearby. They weren’t. “Bedwetting?” I tried to whisper, but already inside the lobby by now, my voice seemed to echo all on its own. Penelope smiled but shook her head. “No. Not that. I figured you didn’t want to go there. Instead, Dr. Benson specializes in science experiments that have gone… well, to put it plainly, wrong.” I began to freak out internally. I hadn’t told anyone about the shot. “Wait… how do you know about the shot? I thought… I…” Penelope sighed and gestured for me to get in the elevator that had just dinged to the lobby floor. “Get in and I’ll tell you.” I sighed and complied without fight. The elevator jolted upward. “Look… I found you after I came to and they had left. I saw the shot and you…” I could already sense her hesitation. “Well, you freaked out a bit when you saw that thing.” “I did?” I had no memory of that. Penelope nodded. “You did. Not surprised that you don’t remember but the doctors and police bagged it, and I haven’t seen it since, but with everything going on… I put two and two together. I figured we would start here and go from there, okay?” It felt nice that I had such a loyal number two under my employ. Still, I trembled like a leaf as I entered the main office of Dr. Benson. It was even worse when we were eventually called back, but as the tall, clean-shaven, and dark with some gray steaks in it haired man in a lab coat entered, I felt oddly at ease. After Penelope excused herself, to give me at least a little privacy, Dr. Benson began. “Hello, Miss Glifford. I’m Dr. Benson,” he said calmly. His eyes seemed to nearly sparkle with intelligence and a kindness I really needed right then. “What seems to be the issue, or at least, why are you here today?” It took a second, and after a little coaxing, I finally managed to spit out everything that had happened. I felt a enormous weight lift off my shoulders, and I already felt better, but I knew I still had some problem. It didn’t help that Dr. Benson already seemed slightly worried as he began to write a few notes down on my chart. “Okay… not as unusual as you might think, so don’t panic there, but to see what we’re dealing with here and what you’ll need going forward, I’m going to need to ask you some questions, okay?” I nodded and with a glowing smile, he began. “How often do you wet the bed?” “Do you often daze out when interacting with Littles?” “Do you wear protection during the day currently, or do you have the desire to?” “Are there any authority figures in your life that you have started to defer to, both in times of stress and daily activities?” “Have you noticed any unusual habits in your daily routines, like drinking water, eating, or even brushing your teeth?” “Do you cuddle with any toy or object that brings you comfort?” With each one, I began to realize two things. First, each of his questions made me doubt my own existence in this world a little more. While most of the answers were a plain ‘no,’ there were at least 10 of his thirty questions, that I couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to completely. Secondly, though, and more concerning, I started to realize the questions began to take on a nature of their own. While the first seemed silly, like asking if I spontaneously collapsed into a gelatinous substance when loud noises were present, I began to notice a pattern about halfway through that I could confirm by the 20th. Being the head of a safehouse, I recognized the questions as nearly identical to the ones I would ask a Little to gauge their maturity level. As soon as I realized that pattern for certain, I didn’t let Dr. Benson ask his 29th, let alone 30th question. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, doc?” I growled at the man before me. “Are you even a real doctor? Can’t you see that I’m a Big, and not a Little?” Dr. Benson sighed and nodded. “I apologize for my questions, Miss Glifford, but I think we need to…” “No!” I didn’t want to let him finish that thought either. I was pissed. I was confused about what was happening to me. But above all, I was scared. His questions seemed to only be heading in one direction, and I didn’t like that place at all. I had said ‘no’ to all his questions, but with each that he asked, that ‘no’ became less uncertain. I was sure he knew that, and I was nearly petrified inside that soon, my answer would instead be a ‘yes.’ I couldn’t let that happen. “Screw this!” I edged my chair back and stomped up and over to the door before looking back at a worried and slightly bewildered Dr. Benson. “Thanks for nothing, doc! I’m not going to turn into some pile of good all of a sudden, so I think you can just take your tests and shove it!” Without letting him say another word, I turned about a headed to the elevator as quickly as I could without running. “Miss G!” Penelope tried to call after me. “Wait! Wait for me!” But I was already pushing the button and tuning everything else out. It wasn’t until the elevator beeped and I hopped on to leave this building altogether that I realized I should have handled that whole situation better. Normally, I was a level-headed person. I was focused on my job and caring for the Littles in my protection at the safehouse, the government required that much at least, but I was happy and content. Even keeled and not prone to outbursts was my reputation through nearly everything. A Little threw a toy at my head? I would scold or punish them, but never let my anger or pain get away from me. A Little called me dirty names and wished I was dead? Hurtful, yes, but I always kept my emotions in check. Or if a Little breaking free from a new employee while we’re at the park was terrifying, I always made sure to get them back safely and keep a clear mind about it. Now, all that seemed to be just out of my reach. I felt a burning anger inside my chest, a sadness in my eyes and trembling lip, and an unbridled fear in my head. I wanted it to stop… for it to be over, but it kept at it. Even when I got to Penelope’s car and waited for her to catch up, I still felt very much the same. I vowed to never return to Dr. Bensons, but as I wiped the snot and tears away from my emotional outburst on my sleeve, I knew something was definitely wrong with me. My pride might have been my downfall, but I wanted… needed to figure this out on my own. It was just a shot, and I was a Big. A bit of stress, PTSD, and some chemicals were not going to keep me down. As Penelope exited the building with a worried look on her face though, my resolve melted just a bit. I kept my outward confidence that I would d be fine, but a tiny bubble of growing doubt was buried deep within me. My gamble was certainly that, and I just hoped that everything would be okay.

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.”

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!

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.