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AVERY She had never felt so naked, even fully clothed. The soft lights above her pod were warm and gentle, and the hum of filtered air sounded like a lullaby. The scent—faint vanilla and talc—was meant to calm, but nothing could soothe the dread curling in her stomach as Avery stared through the glass, imagining the life that waited for her on the other side Avery lay back in the molded seat of her transparent pod, the cotton of the pink onesie stretched across her chest was snug and too soft, too childlike. Her wrists rested in soft cuffs that glowed faintly at the seams, trapping her mitten-encased hands on either side of her blonde pigtails. Similar cuffs restrained her legs and left her legs parted obscenely, exposing the thick white bulk of her diaper to the camera’s gaze. Avery knew, intellectually, that she was no longer allowed to be modest. But the instinct to cover herself hadn’t faded. The fabric clung lightly to her, but the thin cotton was no shield against the watching eyes. She could see her reflection in the curved interior—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her chest rose and fell. Avery was on display. Not for her intelligence. Not for her moral fiber. Not even for her smile. Just her body. Her reactions. Her ability to be controlled and aroused. Always the “good girl”, she was raised to be polite, kind, and obedient. Her mother used to remind her, “You don’t have to be loud to be strong.” Avery had carried herself with softness and grace, proud of her quiet strength, and the way she held her head high without needing to step on others to be seen. But now… now she was exposed. Not completely—technically, the onesie covered her body—but Avery felt naked. Her bare legs spread out in front of her, every movement on display. The restraints kept her spread, locking the slight blonde in a posture that made Avery blush every time she caught a glimpse of herself in the pod’s reflective walls. Her reflection was the cruelest part: a girl who looked younger than she was, embarrassed and pink-cheeked, eyes too wide, trying to pretend she wasn’t trembling. Time moved like syrup. Between the feedings, the changes, and the rotations, she tried to mark her moments by what came next. Tummy time. The vibration test. The post-change display with legs lifted; an open diaper placed beneath her bare bottom in case she had an accident. Her eyes squeezed shut as warm air brushed her most intimate places and she felt her body betray her. Again. The subtle vibrations between her legs had started again—gentle, teasing pulses that forced her to squirm. Her nipples stood out against the onesie, traitorous and helpless. Each session blurred the line between medical procedure and indecency. Between being a person and being a product. And every time Avery came, she cried harder. Not because it hurt—but because she couldn't stop it. Avery had only ever been intimate with Jonah. And even then, it was slow, tender, cautious. They hadn't even figured everything out before this happened. She had barely known how to touch herself and now her body, stripped and exposed, responded graphically as her reactions were catalogue and recorded for someone’s notes. Avery pressed her head back into the padded cushion and bit down on the rubber bulb filling her mouth, trying not to sob. Her stomach turned. She used to think modesty was a choice. A virtue. Now it felt like a memory. Like something she’d worn once, hung up neatly in a closet, and could never find again. Because she couldn’t even cover herself. Couldn’t cross her legs. Couldn’t shift her onesie. Couldn’t stop them. Even the color—pink. It was soft and infantile and said what she no longer could about herself: She's a good girl now. Innocent. Obedient. Pretty. It didn’t help that she could see him. His pod was beside hers. The same glow. The same restraints. She glanced at Jonah. His face was flushed, and he looked away. She missed his eyes. That quiet, grounding warmth that had always pulled her back from the edge when things got too hard. She wanted to see him, not as he was now—red-cheeked and diapered—but as he had been before, when they still belonged to themselves. But that life was gone. At least for now. Now, she would be owned. Not just supervised or cared for. Owned. Everything about her, from her blonde hair to the soft curves of her hips, would be cataloged, ranked, and claimed. The people behind the glass weren’t strangers anymore. They were future owners. One of them was going to decide whether she would be treated like a precious thing or a plaything. A girl to be nurtured or one to be humiliated. There was no in-between. Avery tugged lightly against her restraints—soft, clinical bands at her wrists and ankles, padded so they wouldn’t bruise but still firm enough to demand her compliance. Her onesie was snug, the pale pink fabric stretching across her breasts in a way that made her chest look fuller than it really was. She hated that. The snaps on her shoulders made her feel like she was meant to be changed like an infant, dressed and undressed without even needing to remove her restraints. She hated those, too. What would life be like once she was claimed? Would she sleep in a crib? Be spoon-fed? Diapered? The last one sent a wave of nausea through her, though the damp warmth between her legs reminded her it was already too late. She couldn’t count how many times the nurses had reduced her to helpless, humiliating messes, whispering nothing, never explaining, only pressing buttons or stimulating her in clinical silence until she came or wet or broke completely under their watchful eyes. Would her buyer do it more tenderly? Or worse—gleefully? Would they talk to her like a child? Coax her into calling them Mommy or Daddy? Would they dress her in frilly things and parade her around for guests? Would she be made to thank them? Perform? Avery sighed and sucked on her pacifiers to keep herself from crying again. That was happening more often now. Tears coming not from pain, but from shame and powerlessness. And still—still—there was Jonah. He was only a few feet away, and yet so far. He hadn’t looked at her in hours. Was he ashamed of her? Or of himself? Maybe both. She longed to be in his arms again. That warm, safe place she used to disappear into when things got hard. But now he wouldn’t even meet her gaze. She couldn’t tell if it was guilt or shame or just pain—but it hurt. She missed his hands, his soft voice, the way he would hold her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Now strangers would. Strangers would feed her. Bathe her. Dress her. Change her. Her thighs pressed together instinctively at the thought—because they’d touched her there already. In clinical ways, but her body hadn’t known the difference. The soft pressure, the humming pulses, the calculated rhythms designed to make her squirm and whimper and lose herself. The orgasms came too quickly, too easily. It wasn’t supposed to feel good, not like that. Not without love. Not without Jonah. They were going to sell her to someone she didn’t know. Someone watching her right now. People who didn’t care who she was, only how she responded. Were her moans soft? Did she cry prettily? Was she still “modest” enough to be broken further? Avery knew what she looked like on camera. She knew the value of innocence. Of flushed cheeks and shamed sobs. She could see herself as they saw her—just another sweet little thing waiting to be claimed. And what would life be like then? Would she be taken to some pastel nursery in a wealthy estate, spoon-fed mashed fruit and bottle-fed warm milk on someone's lap? Would she have to call someone Daddy? Would she be punished for crying, or worse—rewarded for obedience? Avery didn’t know, but she knew they were watching. And planning. Are they watching the video? The ones where I cried or moaned or begged? What if they liked that? She didn’t want to be good. Not like this. But she didn’t want to be punished either. She just wanted to disappear. But someone was going to take her. And in that moment, her real life would begin. --------------------------------- A new series. I've already posted the next two chapters on REAM and SubscribeStar for this story and I'll be dropping daily chapters there through the weekend.

Microfiction (noun) A complete story told in 300 words or less. Multi-chapter novellas like Weekend in the Mechanical Nursery or Bella's New Punishment both started as 2,000 word shorts, and I wanted the chance to push myself to be more concise with microfiction. Follow along as I aim to tell complete and compelling stories of discipline, humiliation, and regression in less than 300 words. If you want to support my writing and get access to exclusive stories and works in progress, come and hang out with us on Ream. -------------------------------------------- She sat in her playpen in his office that normally smelled of mahogany and bourbon, but now carried the sweet, lingering scent of baby powder. Jess needed a change, but would need to wait on her friend Morgan for that. Mr. Franklin was old-fashioned and thought it improper to have an intimate connection with an employee. But he was into weird shit. That was undeniable. After the audit exposed her embezzlement, Jess tried to blackmail her boss with the weird diaper shit she found on his computer, but the older man surprised her with a proposal. That’s how Jess found herself doing office work in pull-ups and sucking on a pacifier. For weeks, they were pleased with the arrangement. Then both wanted more. For an extra $3,000, Jess agreed to ask permission before going to the potty and stand in the corner for any sub-par work. For $3,000 more, she stopped wearing pants altogether and occasionally had ‘accidents’ earning herself a few sad faces on her new potty-training chart. It was weird, but had effectively doubled her salary. Diapers were the next obvious step, but Jess struggled with diapering herself and recommended her friend for the new part-time assistant role. That role quickly grew to full-time nanny status until the blonde’s job description consisted only of filling diapers and looking cute, for which Jess had received a bonus in her latest performance review. Mr. Franklin looked at his pigtailed and pacified manager and she smiled and waved from her playpen. Today was Morgan’s quarterly evaluation and she was late. Again. Overhearing the woman’s financial troubles, Mr. Franklin wondered what it might be like to have two adorable playthings at his office and made a note to hire a contractor for the new office nursery and find a new assistant. -------------------------------------------- Get instant access to most of my stories with new exclusive chapters every week and at least three new stories each month on Ream.

Lauren Bloom is crying in her crib I go up to comfort her my name is Sky I'm a red head I am 26 years old and I'm a mommy to Lauren " hey its ok sweetie I'm hear and i hold Lauren and sway back and forth with her shh shh let me tell you the story of how Lauren Bloom came my daughter she was resting at first but i won in the end it all started when i met her at new Amsterdam hospital as one of her patients.

Hi, I'm new; and this is my first story! I've been a hugggggge fan of the various diaper dimension stories I've found on the site and elsewhere; I've also specifically been a fan of Sophie, Pudding, bbykimmy and Mee's work too So, this is my first shot at writing a story like this, any input or technical/grammatical criticism is welcomed. Thanks foe reading if ya do! (Its a slow start lol) Chapter 1 {Lorrie} Lorrie wheezed out another strangled breath as her feet crunched against the grimy ground; her damp shirt clung to her back as she tried to quell her growing panic. Why in the hell was everything so big?--and why the fuck were the people even bigger? Lorrie quickly peered out from the dank and shadowy alleyway she’d found herself in; there were tons of...well..Giants. Big men and ladies, all ranging from 3-5 feet taller than her 5’3 frame. All of them hurriedly bustled around, large men in neutral colored business suits, almost all of the ladies with their children--pushing them in strollers, strapped to their chests in harnesses, or just simply being toted around in their gigantic arms. But wait, something didn’t seem right, about even that; obviously the babies would be bigger--wherever she happened to be, because the full grown adults were. But again, something seemed off about the children she saw almost all these women hoisting around. All the babies were dressed immensely over the top, especially the girls. Pastel lace and frills seemed to completely take over their forms, bonnets, mittens and huge puffy diapers were all she saw. One girl: light brown hair concealed in a lavender bonnet, head nuzzled her giant Mother’s bosom, as the gigantic lady cooed at her. Pale yellow mittens--seemingly a bit too big-- also hid the girl’s hands as she clutched at her Mommy’s blouse; the dress of the girl was also something to be beheld: it was absolutely floofy and looked soft and fresh to the touch. It was the same soft lavender color as the girl’s bonnet, and just as adorned with ribbon and lace. Lorrie ripped her eyes away and pressed her back up against the rough and dusty brick wall of the alleyway. Sinking down to her bottom she thought No--this can’t be right. Was she dreaming? She swiped her grubby, clammy hands at her hairline in exasperation, looking around. Within the alleyway she spotted several black trashbags, capable of completely swallowing her up--and then some. Lorrie also spotted several metal trashcans, capable of doing the same. She scanned the alleyway quickly again, looking for a potential weapon...looking for well, anything. She pondered if that was actually necessary for a moment; well, no one looked particularly menacing (disregarding their size of course.) Surely someone could help her? Maybe one of the many doting Mothers she spotted traipsing around--Lorrie chewed at her lip. Her thoughts continued to get more frantic as she tried to think of a logical explanation for where she was and what had happened to her; Lorrie knew good and well, no matter what kind of situation she was in, she calming down was imperative--it was absolutely necessary if she was going to find help and get the hell out of here. Tears stung her eyes and threatened to spill over as she panted out another shaky breath. Where was she? One second she was...was..?? What the hell? More uncertainty clouded her mind as she unknowingly began to hyperventilate. Lorrie began to shake as she felt her throat start to squeeze itself closed. Okay. Okay, Okay. Calm down. She willed herself to breathe more normally; there was no way she was going to launch herself into a full fledged asthma attack--especially since she had no idea where her inhaler was. As she breathed slowly through her nose, her mind gravitated back towards seeking help. Weighing the pros and cons: She had no clue where she was, how she got here, and what she was doing before miraculously ending up in the alleyway...what worse could happen? I mean, they could eat her? She chuckled dryly to herself; there could be serious danger, Lorrie knew that. However, she was small and fast, and she could probably outrun any of these literal...literal..Amazons? Lorrie allowed herself to partake in another giggle. Obviously, she’d rather not have to run, with her current emotional state and her lack of inhaler, that wouldn’t be the best tactic to have to resort to, but its the only one she possessed for now. Talking realistically, any of these giants could hurt her...very very badly. However, she wasn’t going to get anywhere or find anything out sitting in this disgusting alleyway. Lorrie slowly rose up, letting the brick wall support her. She was going to ask for help--no need to make a scene like a blubbering toddler, maybe she could tug on one of the giantess’s dresses, or call out just loud enough to get their attention. Lorrie thought about asking about where the nearest police station was, or asking one of them to make a call for her (there was no way she could hold a cellphone or telephone of their size.) She would be polite, cordial, and calm--she would act like the 20 year old she was, even though she felt ever so small and ever so frightened. Standing up fully now, Lorrie felt the gravel crunch beneath her shoes--she looked to the murky puddle near her feet. Focusing on her reflection, she tried to erase any trace of prior panic and tears from her face. Her deep tawny skin was moist from the few tears she had shed, she swiped at her cheeks and groaned at the puffiness of her eyes. She seriously did not want to look like some pitiful baby to these big-ass giant women. Even after her face was mostly dry, her nose remained a dusky red color; she then attempted to fix her dark kinky curls, fluffing out the single bun it was puffed into. Her clothes looked mussed and dirty, but that was kind of unavoidable considering she woke up in a grimy alleyway. The light pink sweater she wore had a nice gray film of dirt--her jeans did as well. Lorrie did her best to straighten herself out before she peeked out of the alleyway once more. Striding down the sidewalk, there was a copper haired giantess fast approaching. Even though she looked as if she might have been heading to work or somewhere, due to her being dressed a charcoal pencil skirt and a yellow flowered blouse-- surprisingly, her face held the most content look. She looked.. Warm, friendly, she seemed to be enjoying her day; people watching as she strolled down the sidewalk. Lorrie still felt a plain air of intimidation, as this woman literally seemed to be almost 9 feet tall; however, she looked close to Lorrie’s age, and she stood out amongst the hustle and bustle outside the alleyway. So, it was then Lorrie decided to bite the bullet. She craned half of her body out of the alleyway into the approaching Amazon’s line of sight. Wincing at the sunshine that hit her eyes, she began to wave her arms in an attempt to get the giantess to notice her and look down. “Uh..Ma’am, I uh, Hello?? I was wondering--”

Alexa was just like any normal 9 year old girl, she was in 4th grade in which she loved to read and is very good at long division. She likes school and seeing her friends but likes the weekends at home too where she doesn't usually have homework. Her favorite color is pastel blue and thinks pink is for little baby girls. She loves watching Netflix and has a secret love for watching "Sofia the first" and "super why" even if they are "baby shows". Shes currently working on reading an old book her mommy gave her called "harry potter" but still gets caught up on some big words. Alexa also has a bit of an entitlement issue with being seen as a big girl since shes only about as big as the first and second graders and only just stopped sucking her thumb at night a few weeks ago. Our RP starts as Alexa is doing her homework in the living room with frozen playing on the TV, the door bell rings her mommy answers the door to see the babysitter shes had called for the night. This babysitter was different though and has promised to get her little girl to relax and enjoy being a "little" kid more....