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  1. Warning! This story contains massive spoilers for the magnus archives podcast... you've been warned. "Open up! FBI! OPEN UP!" Amandas heart raced as she aimed her gun at the door. Around her a swat team and some of her fellow agents prepared to capture or kill the suspect. The suspect in question was one Robert Leymon. A serial killer who had killed up to 5 women all in prominent positions. From Deans to CEOs. They hadn't even known to look at him, if not for anonymous tip. No one answered and she gave a nod to the swat team to go ahead. Yet as they broke in she saw what looked by spiders silk before a soft "click" sound. Before she could even warn them an explosion of fire and death hit her team and luanched her backwards into her own car. She had to get up. She had to get up! Her head rang and her body was shaking but she did manage to stand up. Limping she checked for survivers and found none. How had they not seen the trap? They'd checked the place 3 times for any bombs... how had they missed it? "Over here little girl." A voice called out. It took Amanda a few moments to recognize the voice. It was robert leymon. She pulled out her gun yet what she saw made her puase. A birthday table that had not been their earlier had somehow appeared in a centor of corpses held up by string... no webs. "Put the gun away little girl." Amanda was about to put a bullet in the murderer's skull consequences but instead she felt her hand throw the gun away. What the hell? She hadn't wanted to do that. "Good girl! Guns are for big boys not girls." Then he motioned for her to sit in what was clearly a high chair. Albiet one clearly sized for a women rather then a child. At the words "good girl" her mind was flooded witj a foreign sense of pride. She was starting to become scared. That feeling of being scared turned to terror as she felt her legs move against her will towards that bright pink highchair. Eventually she found herself sat in the infantile furniture. "Good we have a few minutes before the archivist completes his ritual. Enough time for a dumb girl like you to eat a yummy cake." She looked at cake with disgust. The thing was an abomination of sweetness. Somehow it was made of everything she hated. The top was layered with snickers. The cake itself was angel food cake and the frosting was pink ice cream. Yet, once again she found her body forced to obey this mans wims as she gobbled up the cake. Tears streaming down her face as her mouth became a mess of sugery slush. Each time her hands greedily grabbed for more she begged them to stop and with mounting terror she realized they would not. The dead bodies somehow were always turned to face her. To judge her. Here she was eating cake with the seeming abandon of a toddler while all around her the corpses of her friends lay dead. Their murderer simply smirked and told her empty false attempts at consoling her. Telling her how she would never become fat. How she would not age. Then an archivist on a whole other continent read a statement from his boss and the world changed.
  2. Chapter 1: This can't be real. "Ashley, did you remember to pack the camera for your sister?" Steve yelled while adding things to their car for their road trip. "Got it!" Ashley called back, lugging a heavy suitcase towards the car. She had packed meticulously, ensuring they had everything they needed for their week-long getaway. As she approached the car, she noticed Steve struggling with a large cooler. "Let me help you with that," she said, setting down the suitcase and moving to assist him. Together, they managed to load the cooler into the trunk, making space for the rest of their luggage. "Thanks, Ash," Steve said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I don't know what I'd do without you." Ashley smiled, feeling a warm sense of contentment. She loved moments like these, simple and mundane yet filled with a sense of togetherness. As they finished loading the car, Ashley glanced at the time. "We should get going if we want to make it to Sarah's before dark," she said, referring to her sister. "She's expecting us to drop off the camera today." Steve nodded, closing the trunk. "Let's hit the road, then. I can't wait to get to the cabin and relax." With everything packed and ready, they climbed into the car, the engine roaring to life as Steve turned the key. As they drove off, the sun shining brightly overhead, Ashley couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. It was their 4th year anniversary of dating each other. She was confident he was going to propose while out at the cabin. As they left the city, traffic grew heavier, and Steve, always the impatient one, decided to take a detour through the backroads to avoid the congestion. The scenic route wound through the mountains, offering breathtaking views of the rugged landscape. "Steve, do you know where we are going? We've never gone this way before to visit my sister." Ashley asked concerned they were going to be late. "Don't worry about it; the road has to connect at some point," he said nonchalantly. "If you say so," she replied, pulling out her phone. "Hey Sarah, we're going to be late. Steve is taking a new road this time. He's being his "adorable" self and refusing to listen to the GPS or his navigator, lol," Ashley texted her sister. Hours had gone by at this point, as they ascended higher into the mountains, their cell signal began to fade, eventually disappearing altogether. "I think we should turn back Steve," Ashley told him, concerned they might have gone too far without cell service. It's already been an hour since the last time she could do anything on her phone. Despite Ashley's protests, Steve assured her that they would soon find their way back to civilization. However, his optimism dwindled as the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the desolate road. With no cell service and no GPS to guide them. Steve admitted defeat. "Okay, maybe you're right. I'll stop at the next gas station or something and ask for directions." "Or, you know we could turn around?" "How? This road isn't wide enough for me to do that." They continued down the desolate road in silence; their nerves grew with each passing minute without an opportunity to turn back around. The fading light of dusk painted the landscape in eerie shadows, heightening their sense of isolation. Suddenly, with a sputter, their car lurched to a halt, billowing smoke from beneath the hood. Steve's heart sank as he stared at the dashboard, hoping for some sign of life from the engine. Only to see the check engine light and the red lining of the temperature gauge. The silence that followed was deafening. Ashley unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car, stretching her legs and taking in their surroundings. She let out a frustrated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her phone, now displaying a bleak "No Service" message. "We should start walking," Steve said, forcing confidence into his voice as he opened the car door and stepped out onto the gravel shoulder. "Maybe there's a gas station or a house nearby where we can ask for help." Ashley nodded, though her eyes betrayed her growing unease. They began to walk up the road, the fading light casting long shadows ahead of them. The air was thick with the scent of pine trees and the distant hum of crickets. After what felt like an eternity, they came across an old, abandoned house nestled among the trees. The windows were boarded up, and the front porch sagged under the weight of neglect. Moss and leaflitter had overcome the roof nearly entirely. Ivy stretched up one side of the house threatening to overtake the decrepit structure. Steve hesitated, looking at the house and the setting sun, a sense of foreboding settling over him like a shroud. "We should keep going," he suggested, his voice tight with unease. Ashley hesitated an urgency in her bladder demanding her attention. "I have to go," she whispered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "And it's getting dark. We'll just go in, use the bathroom, and leave." Reluctantly, Steve nodded, his stomach churning with apprehension as they approached the crumbling porch. Couldn't she just go by a bush? The door creaked open with a rusty groan, revealing a dimly lit interior choked with dust and cobwebs. As they stepped inside, a chill wind whispered through the empty rooms, sending shivers down their spines. Suddenly, the door behind them slammed shut. WHAM Ashley and Steve both jumped at the loud noise, turning to see the door closed. Steve nervously scanned the dimly lit interior, his hand instinctively reaching for Ashley's. "Must've been some strong wind," he muttered, trying to rationalize the sudden slamming of the door. Ashley nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to suppress the rising panic. "Yeah, let's just find the bathroom and get out of here," she agreed, her voice trembling slightly. Standing in the hallway, their senses were on high alert, every creak and groan of the old house setting their nerves on edge. Ashley was about to take another step down the hallway when a sudden movement caught her eye. Turning towards the source of the disturbance, she froze in terror as a figure emerged from the shadows—a grotesque, life-sized mannequin with hollow eyes and a frozen smile. "Welcome, little ones," it cooed, its voice like nails on a chalkboard. "It's time to play!" Steve and Ashley's hearts pounded in their chests as the figure began charging towards them frantically. Waving its arms about wildly. They froze on the spot, their minds unable to comprehend the surreal situation unfolding before them. Closing their eyes, they braced themselves for the inevitable. Suddenly, the mannequin's voice softened, sending a chill down their spines. "Uh-oh, looks like someone snuck their way out of the playroom," it said, its tone almost playful. "You two should know better. You wouldn't want to get in trouble, now would we?" Its smile widened to an unnatural length. Confused, Steve and Ashley cautiously opened their eyes. To their astonishment, the mannequin now loomed large before them, towering over them like a giant. The entire house had transformed, everything around them appearing larger than life. They were no longer their adult selves but had shrunk down to the size of toddlers, surrounded by oversized furniture and toys. Steve and Ashley blinked in disbelief, trying to make sense of their surreal surroundings. They realized that the abandoned house had undergone a dramatic transformation. What was once a decrepit, abandoned building now appeared pristine and inviting, as if frozen in time from its heyday as a bustling daycare center. The walls were painted in bright, cheerful colors and adorned with whimsical murals of smiling animals and playful children. Sunshine streamed in through large windows, casting warm, golden rays across the room, nothing like the outside they had just come from. Toys were neatly arranged in colorful bins, and child-sized furniture dotted the space. There was a cubby system across from the stairs in front of them, where kids hung their coats and placed their shoes. But despite the seemingly idyllic atmosphere, a sense of unease lingered in the air. The silence that filled the room was heavy with the weight of the unknown, and a creeping sense of dread clawed at the edges of their consciousness. "What... what's happening?" Ashley whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she clung to Steve's hand, her eyes wide with fear. Steve shook his head, his mind reeling with disbelief. "I-I don't know," he admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty and fear."This can't be real." The mannequin chuckled, its voice echoing through the room. "Oh, but it is, my dears," it said, its eyes gleaming with an eerie light. "You're here to play, just like all the other little ones who came before you." As the realization of their predicament sank in, Ashley and Steve exchanged a terrified glance, their hearts pounding in their chests. They turned towards the door, desperate to escape, but to their horror, they found that the once easily reachable doorknob was now far beyond their grasp, towering above them like a monument to their helplessness. "We need to get out of here," Ashley cried, her voice tinged with panic as she tugged futilely at the door. "This can't be happening." Steve's mind raced, trying to make sense of their surreal situation. "There's no way out," his voice trembling with fear as he scanned the room for an escape route. The mannequin's voice cut through the air, sending a chill down their spines. "I'm afraid leaving is not an option, my dears," it said, its tone eerily calm. "You see, you're here to play, and play you shall." Steve and Ashley turned towards the mannequin, their eyes wide with fear and their backs pressed up against the door. It approached them, its towering figure casting a long shadow over them. Ashley's heart sank as she felt a warm trickle down her leg, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she realized she was wetting her pants in fear. The mannequin chuckled, its voice echoing through the room. "Looks like someone had an accident," it said, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling light. "No matter, we'll get you cleaned up in no time." With a swift motion, the mannequin scooped up Steve and Ashley in its enormous arms, carrying them away from the door and up the stairs into the daycare. Steve and Ashley struggled against its grip, but it was no use. They were at the mercy of the supernatural force that held them captive. As they were carried through the daycare, they passed by a room with empty cribs and playpens, their surroundings a surreal mix of childhood innocence and eerie abandonment. The mannequin brought them to a brightly lit room filled with changing tables and stacks of diapers, a hint to their new reality. "Now, now, little ones," the mannequin cooed, placing them on the changing tables. "Let's get you cleaned up and ready for playtime." Steve and Ashley exchanged a terrified glance, their minds reeling with fear and confusion. How had they ended up in this nightmare? And more importantly, was there a way out? Chapter 2: Changed Steve's heart raced as he struggled against the firm grip of the mannequin, his muscles straining with effort. He twisted and turned, desperate to break free, but its hold on him was unyielding. Ashley, stunned by the event that had unfolded, froze. Her eyes were wide with fear, tears streaming down her face. But she made no sound, too shocked by the sudden events. "Let us go!" Steve shouted, his voice echoing through the room. "This isn't right! We need to leave!" But his words fell on deaf ears as the feminine figure carried them up the stairs, its movements slow and deliberate. Steve's heart sank as he realized the futility of their situation. They were at the mercy of a supernatural force, trapped in a nightmare. As they reached the top of the stairs, the mannequin carried them into a brightly lit room, the walls adorned with colorful murals of children's finger paintings. Some of them clearly cries for help, with large red letters on some of the drawings reading "LET ME GO" and "HELP!" Diaper boxes lined the walls, with two changing tables. One at the end of the wall, with a dresser adjacent to it. Across the room was a large playpen with nothing in it, almost like it was meant to be a holding cell. With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Steve twisted and wiggled, managing to slip out of the mannequin's hold. He fell towards the ground, his heart pounding in his chest, only to be caught once again as the mannequin's grip tightened around him. As he dangled in the air, he met the mannequin's gaze, his eyes widening in terror as its face contorted into a grotesque expression before snapping back to its benign facade. The room around them seemed to warp and shift, along with its face. The walls pulsating with otherworldly energy. Steve's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to comprehend the surreal scene unfolding before him. The mannequin's voice echoed in his mind, its words soft yet chilling. "You need to be more careful, little one," its tone syrupy sweet yet laced with menace. "You wouldn't want to get into trouble, would you?" Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to make sense of the situation. "What do you want from us?" he demanded, his voice trembling with fear and confusion. But the mannequin remained silent, its painted lips curled into a twisted smile. With a flicker of movement, it released Steve from its grasp, setting him down into the playpen across from the table. "You need to wait your turn, young man," it whispered, sending shivers down Steve's spine. The mannequin then turned back to the table, placing Ashley on the changing table, its movements gentle. Ashley snapped out of her shock as she realized what the mannequin was trying to do. She started to struggle against its grip. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear gripping her. She watched in terror as the mannequin's hands reached for her, its touch cold and unnerving. With a swift motion, it began to undress her, stripping her of her clothes with a mechanical precision that sent shivers down her spine. "Please, let us go," Ashley pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. "We don't belong here. We just want to go home." The mannequin pressed Ashley to the changing table firmly, pulled out the straps, and tied her down to it. "I'm sorry, sweetie, only your parents can pick you up from the daycare. But It's okay; we'll take really good care of you until they get here." Its voice felt unsettling, ringing in their ears. It sounded sweet yet menacing. What is the deal with this thing? Ashley struggled against the restraints on the changing table, panic rising within her. Frantically, she attempted to undo the straps, her fingers fumbling with the buckles. "Steve, please help me!" she cried out, her voice choked with fear and desperation. But Steve was stuck in the playpen, his attempts to escape proving futile. He watched helplessly, clinging to the rim of the pen on his tiptoes, his heart aching with fear for Ashley. He watched in horror as her wet pants were removed and discarded. Ashley's eyes darted to her phone as it fell out of her pocket, a glimmer of hope flickering within her. But her hope was short-lived as the mannequin's voice filled the room, its tone stern and unsettling. "Phones are for grown-ups, little one," it admonished, its words echoing in her mind. "Children aren't allowed to play with them." With a deft movement, the mannequin picked up Ashley's phone and placed it on a shelf above the changing table, far out of her reach. Ashley's heart sank as she realized her only lifeline to the outside world was beyond her grasp. She quickly looked toward Steve, hoping he could find a way to hide his phone. Maybe they could use his to escape? As the mannequin continued to undress her, Ashley's mind raced with fear and uncertainty. She was truly at the mercy of this twisted entity, trapped in a nightmare from which she could not wake. Steve, seeing how it handled the situation with the phone and the look Ashley gave him, began to look for a place he could stash his. He knew he had to do something, anything, to keep it away from it. But as he looked around the room, all he saw was the colorful murals and the ominous diaper boxes lining the walls. Steve looked back at Ashley, meeting her gaze. He was shocked to his core. The mannequin had completely stripped her down. She was naked! Mortification and frustration boiled within him. No one was allowed to do that to her except him! Fear set in as he realized, however, that there was no way he could hide his phone on himself, not with it stripping them down to their birthday suits. He could see her face bright red with humiliation from what was unfolding. The mannequin then reached down to the shelf right below the table Ashley was on, grabbing a rectangular object that looked to be folded. "There we go, all clean now. Time to get you dressed for the day. Now, do you want to wear the princesses or the flowers, deary?" The mannequin was holding two diapers, both in bright pink. Ashley started to scream. "No! No! No! You can't do this! I don't want to wear a diaper! No!" She screamed, her pleas falling on deaf ears. "Calm down, sweetie. You'll be able to get back to playing in no time." The mannequin placed the pink flower diaper on the shelf below, setting it aside for another time. "We'll go with princesses today for the little princess who played dress up." The mannequin unfolded the diaper and lifted Ashley's legs up to slide the diaper under her bare butt. Ashley's eyes flooded with tears. Here she was, a 23-year-old woman getting put in a diaper. Every second felt painstakingly slow. She felt the mannequin lower her back onto the diaper. It was shockingly soft, softer than she would have expected. The mannequin pulled the front of the diaper up, covering her privates. The bulkiness of the material was hard to ignore. Finally, it reached to the side to grab the tape and, one by one, taped the diaper around her waist. "There we go, nice fresh diaper for the little miss. I got the perfect outfit for you, too." The mannequin cooed lovingly as if it was playing dress-up with a doll. "Here we are!" It held out a bright pink frilly dress romper. It had a zipper at the back, making it hard for little ones to remove it independently. The mannequin slid the romper up Ashley's legs, getting her feet through the leg holes, pulling up as far as it could with her still lying down. It then unbuckled her, standing her up, placing her arms through the arm holes, and finally zippering up the back to hold it all in place. "Don't you look pretty?" The mannequin smiled with a genuine smile of satisfaction at how cute she looked. Steve had a clear line of sight to Ashley; she looked just like a toddler, and even her chest looked flat in that dress. "No!" Steve shouted, his voice filled with a mixture of fear and defiance. "I won't let you do this to us! We're not children! We're adults, damn it!" The mannequin's painted lips twisted into a scowl at Steve's outburst, its eyes narrowing with displeasure. With a slow, deliberate movement, it turned its head away from Ashley, whose eyes were filled with terror at the sight of the mannequin's face. Slowly, it turned its head towards Steve, its expression morphing into a grotesque visage that sent shivers down his spine. "Young man, we do not use such language in this daycare," the mannequin's voice rang out, icy and menacing. "You must learn to behave yourself. Such attitudes will not be tolerated." Before Steve could react, the mannequin twisted its body and charged toward him with surprising speed, its movements unnaturally swift. Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he braced himself for the impact, his mind racing with fear and desperation. The mannequin's cold hands closed around him. With a sudden, violent motion, the mannequin lifted Steve into the air, its grip unyielding. Steve struggled against its hold, his muscles straining with effort, but it was futile. The mannequin's strength was beyond human, its power seemingly limitless. As Steve dangled in the air, his mind raced with fear and desperation. He cast a frantic glance towards Ashley, his eyes pleading for her help. But Ashley could only watch helplessly, her heart pounding in her chest. Thinking fast, Steve seized the opportunity to act. With a quick, desperate motion, he fumbled for his phone in his pocket, his fingers closing around the familiar device. With a swift motion, he hurled it towards Ashley. Ashley's eyes widened in surprise as she caught the phone, her fingers trembling with adrenaline. She tucked it into the front of her dress, securely held in place between the soft fabric and her squished chest, concealing it from view. Her heart raced with hope as she realized they might have a chance to escape this nightmare after all. As Ashley quickly jumped off the changing table, her heart pounding in her chest, she felt the frilly fabric of the romper swish around her legs with each step. The sensation was strange and unfamiliar, the soft material tickling her skin. But there was no time to dwell on her discomfort; Steve's safety was her top priority. With determination blazing in her eyes, Ashley sprinted towards Steve, her feet stumbling slightly on the unfamiliar terrain of the daycare floor. Every movement felt exaggerated in the oversized romper, the ruffles bouncing with each step. As she neared, she could see the fear etched on Steve's face, his eyes pleading for her help. Without hesitation, she raised her foot and delivered a swift, powerful kick to the back of the mannequin's knee. The impact sent a jolt of pain shooting up her leg, but she ignored it, focusing all her strength on the task at hand. The mannequin let out a mechanical groan as its artificial joints buckled beneath the force of Ashley's blow. It stumbled forward, its grip on Steve loosening as it struggled to maintain its balance. For a brief moment, it teetered on the brink of collapse, its plastic limbs flailing wildly as it fought to regain its footing. Seizing the opportunity, Steve wriggled free from the mannequin's grasp, his heart pounding with adrenaline as he stumbled backward, his limbs trembling with exertion. He cast a grateful glance towards Ashley, his eyes filled with relief and gratitude. Together, they watched as the mannequin stumbled forward, its balance precarious. The mannequin teetered on the brink of falling, its arms flailing wildly. Steve and Ashley exchanged a glance, a silent understanding passing between them. Together, they turned and fled, their footsteps echoing through the deserted corridors of the daycare. Behind them, the mannequin let out a mechanical screech of rage, its eyes glowing with malevolent fury as it gave chase. The world around them had warped again, back to its abandoned state, the facade of the daycare gone. Terrified, Steve and Ashley refused to look back. As Ashley and Steve descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the eerie silence, a sense of urgency gripped them. They dared a quick glance back and saw the mannequin, now moving on all fours with unnerving speed, closing the distance between them. Panic surged through their veins, propelling them forward faster. But in their haste, they failed to watch their surroundings. Without warning, they collided with something solid, sending them both sprawling to the ground. As they recovered from the impact and looked up, they were met with the sight of another mannequin, different from the menacing one chasing them. This mannequin had a soft, caring smile, its eyes filled with warmth and understanding. It seemed to radiate a sense of calm amidst the chaos surrounding them. The daycare around them had transformed once again, returning to its pristine state, as if nothing had happened. As the new mannequin approached, its soft, caring smile seemed to put Ashley and Steve at ease, despite their recent ordeal. They scrambled to their feet, their eyes flickering between the two mannequins, unsure of what to expect. "It looks like we've had some runaways," the new mannequin said with a chuckle, its voice soothing and gentle. It then turned, looking back upstairs to the other mannequin. "Are you alright, Nyxara?" Nyxara, the once-menacing mannequin at the top of the stairs, now stood in its pristine form, its grotesque and menacing presence seemingly erased. It smiled warmly down at the new mannequin, its eyes filled with a sense of relief. "Yes, I'm alright, Elysia," Nyxara replied, her voice now calm and reassuring. "Thank you for the assistance. These two are a bit more... rowdy." Elysia knelt down in front of Steve and Ashley, her expression kind and gentle. "You two shouldn't run off like that," she said softly. "You could get hurt. But don't worry Nyxara and I are here to keep you safe and entertained until your mommies and daddies come back to pick you up." Steve and Ashley exchanged a puzzled glance. "Mommy and Daddy?" Steve repeated, his voice tinged with confusion. "What are you talking about? We're not children," Steve protested, his voice tinged with frustration. "We're adults. We don't need babysitters." Elysia giggled at Steve's protest, her smile never faltering. "Oh, sweetie, you only think you're an adult because of playing dress-up," she said gently. "But don't worry Nyxara and I are here to take care of you now. It's time to change back into your proper clothes." Elysia picked Steve up, cradling him in her arms as she headed back upstairs. Steve struggled against her hold, his protests growing louder. "No, let me go! I'm not a child!" he cried, his voice filled with frustration and fear. Nyxara descended the stairs. Her gaze fell upon Ashley, who stood frozen in fear. Her heart sank. She watched in despair as the figure approached, its arms outstretched, ready to pick her up. Ashley instinctively stepped back, her eyes pleading for mercy, but it's expression remained unchanged, it's smile warm but unwavering. With a gentle yet firm grip, the monster like creature scooped Ashley into its arms, her touch surprisingly warm for a mannequin. Ashley's heart raced as she was carried away. She looked over her captor's shoulder, locking eyes with Steve, who was now in Elysia's care, being comforted in a way that made him feel embarrassed and frustrated. They reached out to each other, their hands stretching towards one another, but the distance between them grew with each passing step. Steve's protests grew louder as Elysia cooed soothing words to him, attempting to calm his fears. "Shh, shh, it's okay, sweetheart," Elysia murmured, rocking Steve gently in her arms. "There's no need to cry. I'm here to take care of you." Steve's cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being treated like a baby. Despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, tears welled up in his eyes, betraying his facade of maturity. As Nyxara carried Ashley away, her heart felt like it was being torn apart. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the empty corridors of the daycare. She reached out desperately towards Steve, but he was already out of sight. Hearing the girl's cry about losing her friend she was playing dress-up with. Nyxara reassured the girl. "There, there, dear," she murmured, her voice soothing. "Don't cry. You'll see your friend again soon. But for now, let's go play with the other kids, shall we?" An innocent smile full of warmth grew on her face, feeling as if she was doing a good job taking care of the latest additions to the daycare. Chapter 3: Newfound Friends As Ashley was carried away, her mind raced with fear and confusion. She struggled against the mannequin's grip, but it was futile. She felt helpless, at the mercy of these strange and otherworldly beings. Nyxara held Ashley tightly as she stepped down the corridors of the daycare, eventually arriving at a brightly lit room filled with toys and games. Ashley's eyes widened in wonder and confusion as she took in her surroundings. The room seemed frozen in time, as if it was newly constructed or renovated, pristine in every aspect. As Nyxara gently set Ashley down on the floor, Ashley's eyes widened in shock as her gaze fell upon two figures sitting in the corner of the room. One was a woman who looked younger than herself, with long brown hair and a worried expression. The other was a middle-aged man with a rugged appearance and a look of resignation in his eyes. Both were the same small size as her and Steve, smaller than any average adult could be. Ashley approached them cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. "What the hell is going on here?" she asked panicly "Do you know where that thing took Steve? Do you know a way out?" The young woman and the man exchanged glances before shaking their heads. They remained silent, their eyes darting nervously towards the door. It was as if they were afraid to speak, as if there would be consequences. Frustrated by their silence, Ashley pressed on. "Please, you have to tell me something," she pleaded. "We need to find a way out of here. Do you know anything about this place? Who are those mannequins? What do they want with us?" They both remained silent, but the man slowly reached out and picked up a few toy blocks. With a deliberate motion, he arranged them on the floor to spell out two words: S-H-U-T U-P. Ashley's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Was he trying to warn her? Was he telling her to stop asking questions? Before she could react, Nyxara approached, her expression stern. "It's not polite to ask too many questions," Nyxara scolded gently, her tone surprisingly motherly. "We're here to play and have fun. Isn't that right, Kelly, Nick?" Kelly and Nick nodded in agreement, their expressions filled with a mixture of fear and acceptance. It was clear that they were afraid of Nyxara and what she might do if they disobeyed. Feeling defeated, Ashley backed away, her mind racing with unanswered questions. She glanced back towards the stairs, where Steve had disappeared, and felt a pang of sadness and longing. They were trapped in this nightmarish daycare, at the mercy of forces they couldn't understand or control. Ashley's heart raced as she looked back towards the man, who had spelled out "Shut up" with the toy blocks just moments ago. With trembling hands, she picked up the blocks and arranged them to spell out her name: A-S-H-L-E-Y. She held her breath, waiting for a response. Nick's eyes widened in surprise as he read her name spelled out in the blocks. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before rearranging the blocks to form his name: N-I-C-K Relief flooded through Ashley as she realized she had made a connection with one of the other trapped individuals. She felt a glimmer of hope that Nick might have some answers or insights into their situation. Gathering her courage, she formed another question with the blocks: W-H-E-R-E S-T-E-V-E. Nick's brow furrowed in concentration as he rearranged the blocks once more. With painstaking effort, he spelled out: M-O-T-H-E-R U-P-S-T-A-I-R-S. Ashley's stomach churned with unease at the mention of Steve being with the mannequin upstairs. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had settled over her since they arrived at the daycare. What was happening to Steve? Was he safe? And what did Nick mean by "mother"? Before Ashley could ask any of her questions, Nick hurriedly scrambled the blocks, erasing the words he had just spelled out, as the mannequin approached to check on them. Nyxara's expression softened as she observed the trio, a smile playing on her lips. "It warms my heart to see you all getting along," Nyxara said, her voice tinged with an eerie sweetness. "Isn't it wonderful to have friends to play with?" Ashley forced a smile, nodding weakly as she tried to suppress the rising anger within her. Luckily the mannequin didn't stick around, it was satisfied at their nods. Ashley glanced at the young woman sitting in the corner, who was curiously watching them. Feeling a sense of determination, Ashley approached the girl, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hi, I'm Ashley," she said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. The girl's eyes widened in surprise, and then she hesitantly reached for the toy blocks scattered on the floor. With trembling hands, she arranged the blocks to spell out her name: K-E-L-L-Y. "Kelly," Ashley repeated, nodding in acknowledgment. "Do you know anything about this place? How did you end up here?" Kelly's expression grew somber as she shook her head, her eyes filled with sorrow. She seemed reluctant to speak, as if afraid of what might happen if she spoke too much. "Alright kiddies, you be good, I'm only going to be a minute." the menacing mannequin smiled, looking at the three of them in the corner. "It's snack time, and I bet you all are getting hungry" as it left the room to fetch snacks, Nick and Kelly leaned in close to Ashley, speaking in hushed whispers. "We don't have much time," Nick said, his voice urgent. "We need to be careful. Nyxara is very easy to anger. She's the one who decides when we get punished, and trust me, the simplest of things can set her off." "How long have you been here?" Ashley asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Nick glanced around nervously before replying, "I've lost track of time, but I think it's been about ten years. Kelly here has been here for a few weeks, I think." Kelly nodded, confirming Nick's words. "Yeah, it's been a few weeks. I... I don't know how much longer I can take this." "What do they want with us?" Ashley whispered, her voice trembling with fear at the realization that someone had been here for so long already. What hopes do they have to escape if someone who's been here ten years still hasn't found a way out? Nick glanced towards the door once more before answering. "I don't know for sure," he admitted. "But I've seen what happens to those who disobey. It's not pretty. We have to follow their rules if we want to survive." "What rules?" Ashley asked, her heart pounding in her chest. "What do we need to do to survive?" Nick continued to glance around nervously before answering each question. "First, we need to play along. Act like children, do what they say, and don't ask too many questions. Second, don't try to leave the daycare. The doors are locked, and if Nyxara catches you trying to escape... She'll punish you." Kelly added, "And whatever you do, don't anger Elysia. She's the other mannequin, the one who acts like a mother to us. She can be kind, but if she thinks you're a threat to the 'children,' she'll become... violent. That's how we lost David." Her eyes trailed off, a look of pure terror at whatever had taken place. Ashley's head spun with the weight of this new information. She had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. "What about Steve?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Is he in danger?" Before they could discuss further, Nyxara returned with a tray of snacks. She set it down in front of them, her smile bright and unnerving. "Here you go, my little ones," she said sweetly. "Enjoy your snacks, and remember to behave." Nick, with a forced smile plastered on his face, musters up a small voice, "Th-thank you, Miss Nyxara, for the snacks." He mimics the behavior of a grateful child, hoping to appease the unsettling presence before them. Kelly and Ashley remain silent, their expressions a mix of apprehension and obedience. Nyxara's smile widens at Nick's words, her eyes gleaming with an eerie delight. "You're welcome, sweetie," she coos, her tone saccharine yet tinged with an underlying threat. With a final glance at the trio, she turns and leaves to check on Steve, Nick leaned in closer to Ashley, his expression grave. "We need to be careful," Nick whispered urgently. "Elysia is different from Nyxara. She's... she's more motherly, but her love can be suffocating. She wants us to be her children and will do anything to she can to mother us, even if that means..." Nick's voice trailed off, but Ashley understood the implication. Elysia's protection could easily turn into possessiveness and violence. Just then, the door creaked open, and Steve was brought in by Elysia. His clothes had changed, now fitting for a toddler, and his expression was filled with concern. Ashley's heart sank at the sight of him, wondering what horrors he had endured. Steve glanced around the room, his eyes widening in shock as they landed on Ashley and the other two. He tried to speak, but he lost his words, realizing the mannequin was still there. Ashley rushed to his side, embracing him tightly, trying to offer him some comfort in this terrifying situation. "What... what is going on? Who are they?" Steve managed to stammer out, his voice trembling with fear. Ashley quickly explained what she had learned about the daycare from Nick. The little bit she learned about the two mannequins Nyxara, and Elysia, emphasizing the need to play along and not provoke the mannequins. Steve listened intently, his expression filled with disbelief and horror. As Ashley held Steve tightly, her mind raced with concern and questions. She wanted to know what had happened to him, what he had seen or experienced since they were separated. But as she looked into his eyes, she saw the fear and embarrassment reflected in them. "What happened to you, Steve?" Ashley whispered, her voice filled with concern. "Are you okay?" Steve shifted uncomfortably in her embrace, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I-I'm fine, Ash," he mumbled, unable to meet her gaze. "It's... it's basically the same thing that happened to you." Ashley felt a pang of sympathy for him. She knew how humiliating and degrading their experiences had been, forced to dress like toddlers, and placed in a diaper. She reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Steve's voice trembled as he looked into Ashley's eyes, desperation evident in his gaze. "Ashley, do you still have my phone?" he asked, trying to change the subject from their dire situation. Both Kelly and Nick's eyes widened at the question, their expressions mirroring Steve's hope. Ashley's mind raced as she remembered the phone tucked away in her dress, pinned to her chest between her breasts. She had completely forgotten about it in the chaos of their situation. "Yes, I still have it!" Ashley exclaimed, relief flooding through her. Steve's eyes lit up with hope. Ashley went to reach into her dress for it but stopped seeing Nick and Kelly looking at her. Feeling embarrassed, she turned around so her back faced them, providing a little privacy as she retrieved the phone from her dress. She handed it over to Steve so he could unlock his phone. Praying that there is a signal. They got into this whole mess because there wasn't any reception. What would be the odds of them having a signal now, of all times? The group huddled together, their hearts racing with a newfound hope as Steve unlocked his phone and discovered a single little bar. Each of them voiced their opinions on who Steve should contact for help. "We should call the police," Nick suggested, his voice filled with urgency. "They can come and rescue us from this nightmare." Ashley shook her head, her eyes darting nervously towards the door. "If we place a call they'll notice right away," she whispered. "We can't lose our chance if it catches us before we make contact." Steve furrowed his brow in thought, weighing their options carefully. "What about your sister, Sarah?" he suggested, turning to Ashley. "She might be able to help us without alerting anyone else." Ashley's eyes widened in realization. "That's a good idea," she said, agreeing. "Sarah knows about our trip and could come looking for us if we don't show up. Plus, she's close by and won't attract too much attention." With their decision made, Steve quickly drafted a distress message to Sarah, explaining their situation in as much detail as possible without trying to sound too crazy by revealing too much about the supernatural elements of their predicament. They debated the wording, making sure to convey the urgency of their situation on how they have been effectively kidnapped, and are being held hostage with no way of escape or being able to contact the athorities. But before they could hit send, a shadow began to loom over them. Nyxara's voice filled the room, her tone laced with anger and suspicion. "What are you kids up to?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she spotted the phone in Steve's hand. "What are you doing with that?" Nyxara demanded, her voice cold and menacing. "You know you're not allowed to have that. Give it to me, now." Steve hesitated, clutching the phone tightly in his hand. He knew they couldn't let Nyxara take it, but he also knew that defying her would have consequences. Before he could make a decision, Nyxara lunged forward, grabbing for the phone. Steve and Ashley struggled to keep it out of her reach, but Nyxara was too strong. With a swift motion, she snatched the phone from Steve's hand. "You disobedient children," Nyxara scolded, her voice filled with anger. "You know the rules. No phones. Those are for adults only!" You'll both be punished for this." Steve and Ashley exchanged worried glances, seeing the mannequin's face warp along with the daycare. Realizing they had just made a dangerous enemy. They knew they would have to be more careful than ever if they wanted to escape the daycare and survive. Before Steve could even formulate a response, Elysia intervened, her voice calm yet firm as she stepped forward to defend the frightened group of "children." "Now, now, Nyxara," Elysia interjected, her tone gentle yet authoritative. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Perhaps they were simply trying to decide what to do with the phone. After all, they are just children, and it's natural for them to be curious." Nyxara's eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced by Elysia's defense of the children. However, after a moment of tense silence, she seemed to relent. With a final glare at Steve and Ashley, she turned and headed upstairs, taking the phone with her. Steve and Ashley let out a sigh of relief, grateful for Elysia's intervention. However, they knew they had narrowly avoided a dangerous situation. They needed to be more cautious. Nick, seeing an opportunity to gain favor, turned to Elysia with a forced smile. "Thank you, Miss Elysia," he said, his voice filled with false cheerfulness. "We'll be sure to behave and not cause any more trouble." Elysia nodded, her expression softening slightly. "Of course, my dear," she replied, her tone soothing. "Just remember, we're all here to play and have fun. Now, why don't you all go and enjoy your snacks? I'm sure you must be hungry." Nick nodded obediently, then turned to Ashley and Steve, a look of concern on his face. "Did you manage to send the message?" he asked quietly. Steve shook his head, a look of disappointment crossing his features. "No, I couldn't," he replied, his voice tinged with frustration. "It took the phone before I could hit send." The whole group hung their head in defeat, now what are they going to do? They slowly began to shuffle their feet over towards the little table that sat in the playroom where their snacks were located. Suddenly, Steve doubled over in pain, clutching his stomach as a sharp pang shot through his abdomen. Ashley's eyes widened in alarm as she rushed to his side, her hands trembling with worry. "Steve, are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "What's wrong?" Chapter 4: A Bottle?! *Steve's point of view when they separated* Steve struggled against the mannequin's grasp, his heart pounding in his chest. He was filled with embarrassment, fear, and confusion. This couldn't be happening. They were adults, not children. But the more he protested, the tighter it held him, its comforting words trying to soothe him only made him angrier and angrier at the situation he found himself in. As they reached the top of the stairs, Steve's protests grew more desperate. "Please, let me go! We're not children!" he pleaded, but its smile remained unfazed. It carried him back into the changing room, lined with diaper boxes and changing tables. Setting him down gently on a changing table, it cooed, "It's time to get you cleaned up and changed, sweetie." Steve's face burned with embarrassment as it began to undress him, revealing his boxer briefs underneath his pants. He tried to resist, but its gentle yet firm touch made it impossible. It secured him to the table just as the other mannequin did with Ashley. He was stuck now; the straps were locked in a way that refused to budge for him, no matter how hard he tried. Steve refused just to let this happen; he refused to get diapered like Ashley. He threw his body around as much as he could in hopes of making it impossible for the mannequin to diaper him, but it was no use. It just proceeded as if dealing with a difficult child. It just continued to change Steve, cooing softly, "Oh, you must be hungry, that's why you're so fussy. Don't worry. We'll get you something to fill your belly after this." Steve's eyes widened with terror. If they were willing to diaper them because they thought they were children, what would it try to feed them? Not only that, but these things are otherworldly, who knows what this food even was. His embarrassment deepened further as he realized the mannequin was treating him like a toddler in need of care. With gentle efficiency, it removed Steve's shirt. He felt humiliated and helpless as it changed him and expertly fastened a fresh diaper around his waist. He tried to maintain his composure, but the situation was too surreal. He was a grown man being treated like a toddler, and there was nothing he could do about it. Then, he saw it grab a yellow duck onesie and a pair of tiny jean overalls, completing his transformation from a grown man to a toddler-like figure. As it finished diapering him, it smiled warmly. "There, now you're ready to play," it said cheerfully. "But first, let's get you that bottle" Before Steve could protest, it lifted him off of the changing table, and back into it's arms carrying him out of the room. Steve's mind raced with thoughts of escape, but his body was powerless against the mannequin's strength. It brought him into the nursery across the hall from the changing room. The room was filled with colorful toys, soft blankets, and a row of cribs along one wall. The mannequin placed Steve in one of the cribs before moving to the mini fridge in the corner. Steve watched in disbelief as the mannequin retrieved a bottle from the fridge and placed it in a bottle warmer. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. He was a grown man, trapped in a nightmare where he was being treated like a helpless child. Steve's heart pounded as he watched the mannequin move about the nursery, his mind racing with desperation. He scanned the room frantically, searching for any sign of a way out, but all he saw were rows of cribs, the mini fridge in the corner, a sink, locked cabinets, and the imposing figure of the mannequin looming over him. There were no windows, other doors, or vents they could climb through. This room was a secure prison designed strictly for sleeping. His eyes flicked to the bars of the crib, his stomach churning with frustration. The bars were far too high for him to be able to climb out. He could try to get up and out, but realistically he knew doing so now, would be pointless, the mannequin would catch him, after taking two steps, there was no way he could escape it. How could they possibly escape this nightmare? It seemed like every avenue was blocked, every attempt at resistance futile. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his panic at bay. The mannequin returned to his side, a warm bottle in its hand, a sickly sweet smell emanating from its contents. Steve recoiled instinctively, his throat constricting with revulsion. He had no idea what was in that bottle, but he knew he couldn't trust it. The mannequin offered the bottle to Steve with a gentle smile. "Here you go, sweetie. Drink up. It's just warm milk," it cooed. Steve's eyes widen in worry. He is lactose intolerant, he can't drink milk, it messes with his stomach. He stood there staring at the mannequin, unsure of what to do. He didn't want to play with this twisted game, but he was also trapped in a crib too tall to escape from. The mannequin's smile faltered slightly as it noticed Steve's hesitation. "Come on now, sweetie," it urged, its tone still gentle but with a hint of impatience. "Don't be difficult. You need to drink your milk like a good little boy." Steve's mind raced as he weighed his options. Drinking the milk could have serious consequences for his lactose intolerance, but defying the mannequin could lead to unknown punishments or further confinement. Trapped in the crib with no means of escape, he felt a sense of helplessness wash over him. With a heavy heart, Steve reluctantly reached out for the bottle, his fingers trembling as he accepted it from the mannequin's grasp. The sickly, sweet smell assaulted his senses, making his stomach churn with unease. He glanced up at the mannequin, silently pleading for mercy, but its expression remained unmoved. As Steve slowly brought the bottle to his lips, he hesitated again, his inner turmoil evident in his furrowed brow. The mannequin's patience wore thin, and with a firm yet gentle grip, it lifted him from the crib and settled him in its arms, cradling him against its rigid form. Steve's heart pounded in his chest as he found himself ensnared in the mannequin's embrace, his muscles tense with apprehension. He wanted to resist, to fight against the unnatural force that held him captive, but he knew it was futile. He was at the mercy of the mannequin's whims, powerless to defy its will. Settling into a rocking chair, the mannequin began to sway back and forth, its movements rhythmic and soothing. Steve's breath caught in his throat as he felt the bottle pressed against his lips, the warmth of the liquid seeping through the bottle's nipple. With a sense of resignation, Steve reluctantly began to drink the milk. Each swallow was a struggle, his mind riveting at the thought of what it might do to his body. But the mannequin showed no signs of relenting, its grip unyielding as it forced him to consume the entire contents of the bottle. Tears welled up in Steve's eyes as he fought against the urge to retch. He felt like a helpless child being fed against his will, stripped of his autonomy and dignity. But no matter how much he resisted, the mannequin's hold remained firm, its eerie presence casting a shadow over him. As he sucked down the milk, the mannequin sat there, holding him. Staring into his eyes, lovingly watching him with a maternal gaze. "There, there, everything will be okay," she murmured, stroking his hair gently. Steve continued to drink the milk, feeling defeated and helpless in the mannequin's arms. As he reluctantly finished the bottle, he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The other mannequin from earlier, the one that took Ashley away, the darker and more menacing mannequin, entered the nursery, causing Steve's heart to race with fear. Its presence was unnerving, its cold, lifeless eyes scanning the room. Steve couldn't help but feel a sense of dread as he realized Ashley was missing from its side. Its gaze lingered on Steve briefly, sending a shiver down his spine before it turned to the mannequin holding him. "Elysia, the snacks for the kids are out," it stated in a gravelly voice, its tone devoid of warmth or emotion. Elysia, the mannequin holding him, smiled warmly. "Thank you, Nyxara. This one has already had his bottle, so he might not eat much," she replied, motioning towards Steve. Nyxara nodded silently before turning and leaving the nursery. Steve let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, relieved that it had left without incident. The mannequin holding him then carried Steve downstairs to join the other "children." As they descended the stairs, Steve's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Ashley, among others who had been transformed into childlike figures. She looked just as bewildered and frightened as he felt. Chapter 5: A Messy Situation Steve's face contorted in pain as he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Ashley's heart raced with worry as she rushed to his side, her hands trembling with concern. "Steve, are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with alarm. "What's wrong?" Steve tried to brush off the issue, but his voice was strained with discomfort. "I-I'm fine, Ash," he mumbled, his face pale with pain. "It'll probably pass." But the sharp pang in his abdomen refused to be ignored. Steve's attempts to downplay the situation only made Ashley more concerned. She reached out to touch his forehead, checking for signs of fever, but before she could say anything, Elysia approached them, her eyes filled with concern. "What's the matter, little one?" Elysia asked, her voice gentle as she knelt beside Steve. "Are you feeling unwell?" Steve winced as Elysia's hand touched his forehead, her touch sending a shiver down his spine. He tried to pull away, but the figure's other hand shot out and clenched his bicep. She tilted her head, studying him with curiosity and concern. "What did you do to him!?" Ashley interjected, her voice filled with worry and panic. "He was fine before you took him upstairs." Elysia did not regard Ashley's concern, and her expression was sympathetic. "Poor thing," she murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow. "It must be hard for you, being away from your mommy and daddy." She completely ignored Ashley's questioning. Steve felt frustrated at the creature's words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He didn't want to admit to Ashley that he was fed a bottle like a baby, but he couldn't stand the thought of being talked down like he was a child. He tried to protest, to tell it that he wasn't a child and didn't need to be treated like one, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he nodded weakly, unable to meet it's gaze. Elysia's eyes softened with compassion as she reached out to pat Steve's back, her touch surprisingly comforting despite the circumstances. "There, there, little one," she murmured, her voice soothing. "Don't worry. Elysia is here to take care of you." But as Elysia tried to comfort him, Steve's stomach lurched with increasing intensity, sending waves of nausea coursing through his body. He gasped in pain, his face contorted with discomfort as he struggled to hold back the building pressure in his bowels. "I-I need to use the bathroom," Steve managed to stammered out, his voice strained with desperation. "Please, I need to go..." But Elysia seemed oblivious to Steve's distress, focusing solely on comforting him. She reached out to pick him up, her touch gentle as she lifted him into her arms. Steve's stomach churned with unease as she began to rock him back and forth, her movements only making the pressure in his bowels harder to hold in. "Shh, shh, it's okay, little one," Elysia murmured, her voice soothing yet distant. "Everything will be alright, you'll see." But Steve knew he couldn't wait any longer. The urge to use the bathroom was becoming unbearable. He struggled to break free from Elysia's grasp, his voice trembling with urgency. "I-I need to go," he insisted, his voice strained with desperation. "Please, let me go..." But Elysia seemed unable to understand Steve's words, and her focus was solely on comforting him. Steve's heart sank as he realized he was running out of time. Steve's stomach cramps intensified, and his eyes darted around the room in a panic. He caught sight of the other male in the group, unable to recall his name. His eyes were wide with understanding. Steve knew he must know why Elysia wasn't responding to his pleas. Steve recalled being told that the other man had been here longer; he must have learned how the mannequins responded and worked. But the man said nothing. Steve's desperation grew as he realized he couldn't hold on much longer. He wanted to reach out and beg for help, but he hesitated, unsure of what they might do or, more accurately, what they could do. These things were huge in comparison to them. Steve's face twisted in agony as the pressure in his bowels reached its breaking point. With a sickening realization, he knew he couldn't hold on any longer. His stomach clenched with a force he couldn't contain, and before he could even register what was happening, he felt the warmth spreading in his diaper. A warm, mushy sensation filled his diaper, the smell hitting him almost instantly. He gasped, mortified, as he accidentally shit himself for the first time since he was a kid. The hot, mushy diarrhea surged forth, filling the confines of his diaper with a sickening squelch. Steve's cheeks burned with humiliation as it was happening, his body betraying him in the most mortifying way possible. He whimpered in shame, unable to stop the humiliating torrent of mess. "O-oh no..." Steve whimpered, his voice filled with shame and embarrassment. He could feel the mess spreading, the diaper growing heavy and uncomfortable against his skin. Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at Elysia, his cheeks burning with humiliation. Ashley's eyes widened in shock and horror as she watched Steve's distress unfold before her. The pained expression on his face, coupled with the sickening realization of what was happening, sent a wave of nausea churning in her stomach. She took a step back, her hands instinctively covering her mouth to stifle a gasp of disbelief. Kelly, who had been observing the scene with a mixture of concern and fear, recoiled slightly at the smell that filled the air. Her eyes darted between Steve and Ashley, a small look of disgust crossing her features. But beneath the disgust, there was a flicker of embarrassment, a memory resurfacing in her mind. Elysia's gentle teasing cut through the air, her voice light yet mocking. "Oh dear, it seems little Steve had a little accident," she remarked, her tone almost sing-song. "Such a messy little one, aren't you?" Steve's cheeks burned with shame as Elysia's words sank in. He could feel the weight of his messy diaper pressing against him, the warmth and smell serving as a reminder of his humiliating predicament. He wanted to protest, to tell Elysia that he wasn't a child and didn't need to be treated as such, but the words caught in his throat. How could he even say that when he was in her arms in a dirty diaper? Elysia's demeanor shifted slightly as she continued to speak, her voice softer yet tinged with authority. "It's alright, little one," she said. "We'll have to get you cleaned up and changed. But first, let's get you something to drink and some snacks. That should give you plenty of time to finish anything else still in your belly," she giggled. Steve could only stare at it in disbelief; not only did this thing just force him to shit himself, but it was going to make him stay in it till it deemed he could be changed! His cheeks burned with shame and resentment. He tried to ignore the uncomfortable squishiness of his diaper. But the smell, the warmth, it was all too much. He felt like a helpless child, unable to control his own body. Elysia set him back down on the ground, her touch seemed surprisingly gentle and caring despite the humiliating situation. Steve felt a rush of relief as he was freed from her grasp, but it was short-lived. The reality of his messy diaper felt like a ton of bricks, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes. Steve's gaze fell on Ashley as his tormentor turned away to attend to something else. Her expression was a mix of shock, disgust, and pity. Steve felt a lump form in his throat as he realized how she must see him now, as a helpless, soiled child. He wanted to explain, to tell her it was because of the milk, but the words were stuck in his throat. He was too embarrassed and in shock to say anything. He stood there in front of the others, feeling utterly humiliated and vulnerable, his mind flooded with embarrassment. His stomach still churned from being forced to consume milk, but now embarrassment added to his discomfort. He desperately wished he could disappear, to escape from this nightmare. But trapped in this bizarre reality, there was nowhere to run, no way to hide from the humiliation. Ashley hovered nearby, her expression torn between concern for Steve and disgust at the situation. She wanted to comfort and reassure him that everything would be alright, but seeing him in a messy diaper was too much to bear. She glanced at Nick and Kelly, silently pleading for some form of understanding or support. Nick's gaze met Ashley's, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of empathy in his eyes. But before she could say anything, the mannequin returned, interrupting the tense silence with her cheerful demeanor. "Alright, little ones, that's enough dilly-dallying. Go eat your snacks." Elysia chirped, her voice bubbly as she set a high chair tray of snacks on the table next to their snacks. "I've got some yummy treats for you all to enjoy." The figure ushered them towards the table. Ashley looked at Steve sympathetically, her heart aching for him. But as they approached the table, her attention was diverted by a bottle of milk sitting next to the highchair. Her eyes widened in realization. "Oh my god," Ashley whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of Elysia bustling around. "Steve, the milk... That's why..." Steve's eyes went wide with horror as he realized there was another bottle of milk. His stomach was still agitated from the first bottle; what would a second one do to his stomach and bowels? The thought of drinking it now, in his current state, filled him with dread and disgust. Especially with others around. He couldn't, not again. But before he could do anything, Elysia approached him with the bottle, her smile bright and cheerful. "Here you go, little one," she said, her voice sweet yet tinged with authority. "A nice bottle of milk to help keep you hydrated. Isn't that nice?" Steve's stomach churned with unease as he stared at the bottle, his mind racing with fear. He wanted to refuse, to push it away, or at least tell them he couldn't drink milk. But the fear of what would happen if he was difficult for them kept him frozen. Until his brain finally kicked back in. Desperate for escape, Steve made a sudden dash towards the door, his heart pounding with adrenaline. But before he could reach it, a hand shot out, catching him by the arm with surprising strength. "Uh-uh, little one," Elysia scolded, her voice firm yet gentle. "You know you're not allowed to wander off by yourself. It's not safe. Besides, we need to make your tummy feel better. You need to stay hydrated and drink as much as possible." Steve's heart sank as he realized his escape attempt had failed. He hung his head in defeat as it led him to the highchair, her grip firm. As Steve felt guided towards the highchair, panic surged through his veins. He couldn't bear the thought of being strapped into that humiliating contraption, especially with his messy diaper weighing him down, feeling it slightly sway with each step. His mind raced with desperate thoughts of escape, but the figure's hold on him was unyielding. "No, no, please!" Steve pleaded, his voice trembling with fear and humiliation. He tried to pry its fingers from his arm with his free hand. "I-I don't want to go in there. Please, let me go!" But Elysia remained unmoved; its expression was that of a smiling, authoritative parent dealing with an unruly child. She gently guided Steve towards the highchair, her grip firm. Steve struggled against her grasp, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought against the inevitable. Ashley rushed to Steve's side, her hands reaching out to try and pull him away from Elysia. "Let him go!" she demanded, her voice filled with determination. "He can't handle lactose. It will only make him sick!" Ashley's attempt to intervene was met with a sudden and chilling presence. The darker mannequin appeared, her tall, imposing figure casting a shadow over the room. Her eyes glinted with a malevolent gleam as she surveyed the scene, her presence enough to send a shiver down Ashley's spine. "What's going on here?" Nyxara's voice was cold and commanding, sending a wave of fear through the group. Everyone quickly averted their gaze from Nyxara's chilling presence, and a tense silence settled over the room. Ashley's heart pounded in her chest as she watched the scene unfold, her hands trembling with fear. She knew they were at the mercy of these supernatural entities, and any attempt to defy them could have dire consequences. With a subtle yet commanding gesture from Nyxara, Elysia resumed her task of setting Steve up in the high chair. Steve's heart sank as he was scooped up, realizing there was no escaping his humiliating fate. He felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as Elysia's firm hold guided him toward the highchair. As he was set in the highchair, he couldn't suppress a whimper of humiliation. The squishy mess in his diaper shifted and spread, the warmth and wetness pressing against him from all sides. He could feel the mess oozing and squelching in ways he never thought possible, air bubbles escaping out the back and sending a sickening sensation down his spine. The smell of his own mess filled the air, a nauseating reminder of his humiliating predicament. Steve's cheeks burned with shame as he realized the others could smell it too, their expressions filled with disgust. He wanted to disappear, to escape from this nightmare of being trapped in a messy diaper in front of his girlfriend and strangers. But as Elysia secured the straps of the highchair around him, Steve knew there was no escape. He was completely at the mercy of these entities, powerless to resist their commands. Tears welled up in his eyes as he hung his head in defeat, the weight of his humiliation crushing down on him like a ton of bricks. Meanwhile, Ashley watched helplessly from the sidelines, her heart breaking for Steve. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, to reassure him that everything would be alright, but she knew there was nothing she could do. They were all trapped in this bizarre reality, subject to the whims of these otherworldly beings. Steve's heart pounded with fear and desperation as Elysia approached with the bottle. He couldn't bear the thought of drinking the milk, not after what happened last time. With a surge of panic, he reached out to knock the bottle from Elysia's grasp, sending it clattering to the floor. The room fell silent as the bottle rolled across the floor, the sound echoing in the tense atmosphere. Steve's heart raced as he braced himself for the repercussions of his actions. He expected Elysia to scold him, to punish him for his defiance. But what happened next caught him completely off guard. A chill swept through the room as Nyxara's imposing figure stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with a menacing glare. Steve shrank back in his seat, his heart pounding with fear as he met her gaze. He knew he had crossed a line. "Elysia," Nyxara's voice was cold and commanding, sending a shiver down Steve's spine. "It seems our little friend here needs a lesson in obedience." Elysia nodded obediently, her expression shifting from sympathy to determination. She reached down to retrieve the fallen bottle, her movements deliberate and purposeful. Steve's heart sank as he realized he had sealed his own fate. He had defied the rules of this twisted reality, and now he would have to pay the price. With a sense of dread, Steve watched as Elysia approached once again, the bottle held firmly in her grasp. He wanted to protest, to beg for mercy, but he knew it was futile. Elysia's smile was gone now, replaced by a stern expression as she held out the bottle to Steve. "Drink," she commanded, her voice firm yet cold. Steve hesitated, his hands trembling with fear. He knew he couldn't refuse, not with Nyxara's menacing presence looming over him. With a heavy heart, he reached out to take the bottle, his fingers closing around it with a sense of resignation. But as he brought the bottle to his lips, a wave of defiance surged through him. He couldn't let them break him, not without a fight. With a sudden burst, he threw the bottle aside once again, his heart pounding with adrenaline. Nyxara's eyes narrowed with fury as she watched the bottle clatter to the floor once more. "Enough," she growled, her voice dripping with menace. "You will drink, or you will suffer the consequences." Steve's heart raced as he met Nyxara's glare, his mind racing with fear and desperation. He knew he had pushed his luck too far, but he couldn't bring himself to submit. He refused to be treated like a helpless child, to be forced into submission by these creatures. But before he could muster a response, he felt a sudden pressure in his chest, like a weight pressing down on him from all sides. He gasped for air, his lungs burning with the effort as he struggled to breathe. Panic surged through him as he realized he couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't even scream. Nyxara's voice echoed in his mind, cold and commanding. "You will obey," she whispered, her words sending a chill down his spine. "Or you will suffer." Steve's world spun as he struggled against the invisible force holding him captive. He tried to fight back, to break free from Nyxara's control, but it was no use. He was completely at her mercy, powerless to resist her will. Nyxara claimed the bottle from the floor and forced it back into his grip. With a sense of resignation, Steve closed his eyes and forced himself to drink from the bottle, his throat burning with each swallow. He felt a surge of nausea rise up in his stomach, but he forced it down, knowing that defiance would only bring more suffering. As he drank, he felt a strange sense of detachment wash over him, like he was watching himself from a distance. He knew he was losing himself, giving in to the darkness that threatened to consume him. But he couldn't stop, couldn't fight back. He was trapped in this nightmare, powerless to escape. As the last drop of milk slid down his throat, Steve felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. He slumped back in his seat, his vision swimming as he struggled to stay conscious. He knew he had lost this battle, that Nyxara had won. As darkness closed in around him, he couldn't help but wonder what other horrors awaited him in this twisted realm. Nyxara's gaze shifted to Elysia, her eyes cold and calculating. "Once the children finish with their snacks, bring Steve to me for his punishment," she commanded, her voice dripping with malice. Elysia nodded obediently, its expression devoid of emotion. She turned to Steve, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I'm sorry, little one," she murmured, her voice barely audible. "But you must learn to listen. It's for your own good."
  3. WARNING! READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING!!! ACTS OF VIOLENCE AND GORE DESCRIBED!!! This story is indeed a Diaper Dimension story, but it's a bit different from ones you are probably used to. To summarize but hopefully not spoil, after reading so many stories with exceptionally cruel amazons, with so many different little (and the occasional tweener) protagonists, themselves and others, suffering at the hands of such amazons, I found myself wondering something. What if there was a little serial killer? Yes I know with the technology and nanites and hypnosis and whatnot that the amazons largely have at their disposal, as well as the obvious size and strength difference, that a little harming them, or at least more than one, seems pretty far-fetched in these stories about a race of babying giants from another dimension and their super-advanced sci-fi tech. I just wanted to give a heads up that there is going to be violence involved, from someone who LOVES horror movies and the horror genre in general. There will still be PLENTY of the amazon babying humiliation goodness, just with the extra horror aspect added in. If anyone is triggered by described acts of violence, I have another DD story that might be more suitable, Little Survivor, not to mention the many other DD stories available out there that are not as... bloody as this one is. For everyone else, I hope that you enjoy... Little Monster! Little Monster (Prologue) by Panther Cub "So what do you think happened?" Detective Roberts heard his partner, Detective Melissa Alvarez, ask from the passenger seat. He had just shown his badge to the security guard at the gate to the gated community that they were entering, Brookshire Estates, an ever familiar pit forming in his gut. "The Chief's been missing for two days, and then a little while ago a neighbor called in having heard screams coming from his house. That's all we know," Roberts said, his gut saying otherwise. "The Chief would at least call in or something," Alvarez said. The radio cackled to life, informing the two that backup was on the way, as another unit had just pulled up to the gate. It was then that Roberts pulled into the familiar two-story upper-class suburban dream. He noticed that the lawn was starting to look a little shaggy. Roberts took note that it's definitely been longer than three days since the grass was cut, and Chief Alexander was nothing if not meticulous about his lawn. The pit in the detective's gut doubled in size. "Well, they did just recently adopt, and new Littles can be quite the handful," he said, more to himself than to his partner. She looked about as unconvinced as he did. They got out just as their backup arrived. Roberts led the way, ready to knock on the front door and hoping to find a sleepless older man, looking disheveled and unshaven, with a story about the new little keeping them up or maybe even trying to escape. Instead, he found that the door was already open. "Hello? Clancey? Bonnie?" There was no answer, and so he called out again. He spotted a red smear on the white doorframe, and his heart skipped a beat. "Blood." With the probable cause they needed he and his partner entered, guns out, with the officers right behind them. From the entryway there was a clear line of sight to the dining room. There was a new blue with white trim high chair sitting next to the large oak table. Roberts and Alvarez quickly walk around the ground floor, finding all the doors and windows locked, nothing looking out of place. With the officers staying on the ground floor, calling in another unit, the detectives headed upstairs. Halfway up, they stopped. On the banister, near the floor, was a bloody handprint, as though someone had been laying on the floor, gripping it. Looking a little closer, Roberts could see indentations from fingernails. "Oh my god," Alvarez said, looking past the bannister in sickened shock. Roberts looked, his stomach clenching. Blood, tiny droplets like a fine red mist had been sprayed, and small pools of it splashed all about in the hall just past the top of the stairs. Even up on the ceiling. Immediately Melissa was on her radio calling in more backup. With confirmation, they continued onwards. Amidst the rest were splotches and drag marks leading right to the master bedroom. Looking inside, Roberts was reminded of a horror movie. The hallway had been bad, but the master bedroom was much worse. There, laying in the bed was Bonnie. Her face had been bludgeoned to a pulp, with a small hammer laying right next to her. Oh god... did the Chief do this? I know that he and Bonnie had been having problems before the adoption, but this... no, no assumptions. Roberts and Alvarez had both seen their fair share of homicides during their careers, so they pulled it together. Looking a little closer, Roberts saw that Clancey's side of the bed was the most disheveled, his pillows and part of the blankets and sheets on the floor, also covered in blood. He then noticed a trickling pattern of blood along with some intermittent bloody handprints on the floor, leading to the door. He looked again at Bonnie, and fought the bile that tried to come up. Her hands were at her sides, and they seemed clean. "No defensive wounds," he mumbled under his breath. Already he had a theory, even though his training taught him to reserve his judgment until further investigation yielded more clues. But he was only human, and he had seen blitz attacks. The intruder attacked them while they were sleeping... he probably gave Clancey a few whacks, being a big guy and clearly a bigger threat, before going to work on the still-sleeping Bonnie. She normally takes sleeping pills, so she could have still been out like a light. But Clancey hadn't been dead, just seriously injured, and maybe disoriented. He crawled to the door and to the stairs... when the intruder came for him next. But... there's too much blood here to just be Bonnie's... A thump in the room next door made him and Alvarez freeze. They walked back out into the hallway, just as the additional units were pulling up. On a silent count of three, Roberts pushed open the door and flicked on the lights to what appeared to be the new nursery. It was painted blue for the little boy that they had just adopted from another dimension. More blood was splashed around, but the crib was empty, or almost empty. Was this a kidnapping? Portal Littles can be worth a lot on the black market. They swept the room, before Roberts approached the crib. Inside was a very large jack in the box. He recognized it as the kind where kids and littles could put their favorite toy or stuffie inside to make pop back out with the hand crank. They could even be set to start turning their own cranks all by themselves, either on a timer or even if their sensors indicated that someone was nearby and in range. Roberts guessed he was in range, as the crank started to slowly turn. He and Alvarez heard the tune to Pop Goes the Weasel slowly started to play. The song reached its end and the lid popped open, making the two detectives flinch. Staring back at them was Clancey's head. His pale face, the slight jowls he was beginning to form, the short-cropped hair with a receding line and his red nose, staring blankly at the two detectives, his mouth hanging wide open. "Dear god," Alvarez said, sounding sick. Roberts was of the same mind. Despite all the previous grisly cases they had worked, it never got any easier, especially when the person in question was someone you had just seen and talked with recently. Roberts then noticed a piece of yellow note paper folded and stuffed inside Clancey's mouth. The paper fell out and fluttered to the floor, coming unfolded as it did and landing face up. Robert's, maintaining his composure, briefly marveled at how luck worked sometimes, before shaking his head to banish the thought. Without touching it, Roberts bent down to read it. It was written in blood. There's a surprise in the closet, it read, with a red smiley face at the bottom of the paper. Roberts nodded to his partner just as soon as she finished calling in a coroner, and stating that there were two bodies, as well as an officer down. "Some bastard did this to a cop," Roberts growled, knowing that whomever did this had to have known that they were putting a target on their backs. Alvarez went to the doorknob of the closet and, with Roberts pointing his gun at it, she opened it. There, amidst all the teddy bears and toys and outfits, was the body of the rest of the Chief. Cut into pieces, with an electric saw laying right there, drenched in blood with bits of gore still stuck in the teeth. It was then that Roberts saw some more hand prints, at the bottom of the back wall of the closer, underneath another bloody smiley face. But these prints were small, smaller than an adult's... like a child's... or a Little's. Roberts read the writing just above this second smiley face. I had a lot of fun. Let's play again sometime. "Holy hell... the Little," Roberts said, the pit in his stomach returning. That was why there was a fine spray of blood out in the hall, because a little couldn't have moved the body of an adult Amazon on their own. At least... not in one piece... he looked again at the electric saw and blanched. "What?" Alvarez said, looking inside the closet again, past the dismembered corpse of their chief. Her eyes went wide at the message and the handprints. "The portal Little they adopted... he's a murderer." (Chapter 1) "Keep those hands up," the officer snarled. His gun was out and pointed right at the man in the red hoodie, both of whose arms were in the air. His back was to the officer, yet he exuded an air of nonchalance. Detective Ash approached, her own gun in her hands. The alley was dark, lit up by red and blue flashes as well as a flickering green neon sign. Each light painting everything a different color. Just around the corner, her partner lay in a pool of his own blood while officers and paramedics saw to him. Rushing footsteps could be heard, and she breathed a sigh of relief, as additional backup was right behind them. She looked up to the officer with his gun out, noticing that it was the new kid, fresh out of the academy. Ricky, she thought his name was. His blonde hair was closely cropped, whereas hers was in a braided ponytail. He was in his uniform, while Ash was in a charcoal gray suit and tie. He was also an Amazon, as Ash was a Little. When the perp was a little, she would slap the cuffs on them during an arrest. If they were a 'Tweener or and Amazon, then her partner, David, a great hulking goliath of a man, would be the one to cuff them. Officer Ricky whatshisface looked down to her, his eyes wide that the sonofabitch was right there, in front of him. The man's face had been plastered all over the news. She saw fear in the kid's eyes, but taller than her or not, she was the superior. Ash gave him a silent nod, and with a gulp, and additional officers taking up positions with their own guns out, Ricky approached the man. He holstered his gun and got the cuffs out, quickly grabbing the perp's raised right hand. He was quick, but the man in the hoodie was quicker. He whirled around, a flash of silver painted green in the neon light, before a dark spray gushed forth from Ricky's opened neck. Ash froze, time slowed. Ricky's hands went to his slit throat, while the now faceless man in the hoodie laughed, running right towards her. Her gun went off, along with the other officers'. But instead of dropping, he kept running straight at her. Ash emptied her clip into the ever growing center mass of bright red... and then her eyes flew open. Sitting up, Ashley stretched and yawned, looking around her room. She was no longer in the dark alley, but instead in her pink and white crib, her purple dinosaur blankie still partially tucked in. She was sucking on her red binky, reluctantly finding comfort in it. Pulling back the blankie, she looked down at her bright yellow legless onesie, with the telltale bulge of her nighttime diaper hugging her waist. She pushed down on the front, the squishiness confirming she was once again wet. She then rubbed the sleep from her eyes, wondering about her dream. That hadn't been how any of what had happened gone down. Except for the parts about her partner being mortally wounded and the new kid's throat being slit. As well as the serial killer she and her partner had been hunting for over a month before cornering him in that damn warehouse. Oh, and the part when she had emptied her entire clip into him while he ran at her with a knife in hand. The sunlight drifting in through the open window feeling warm. Looking around her room, she sighed. On the one hand, she was adopted, on the other, her mommy and daddy were childhood friends of hers that had swooped in when she needed it and adopted her. She still had to be babied, between possible LPS getting involved, and Stacy's maternal instincts being apparently hard to suppress. Not that Ari was much better in that regard, what with his habit of calling her Princess. Shaking her head and brushing away her dark locks, Ash reached up and pressed the pink button at the corner bar of her crib, causing the side to slowly open. With a great big yawn, she climbed out of bed and started waddling to the door. To her left was her changing table and toy chest as well as the closet that was full of baby clothes. To her right was her computer desk with the latest, and skinniest to date, PC sitting on it, the computer itself translucent. Next to that was her cork board with names of clients and photos pinned to it, a great section showing a map of Bentwood and the surrounding areas. After the fallout from her final case in Xophta City, and the press coverage from it, Mommy and Daddy had elected to move them to this sleepy small town for a fresh start. Zephyinstan was one of the more progressive countries with how it treated its Littles like legal adults... yet here she was. Once one of the youngest, and littlest, detectives in the Xophta Police Department, now an overgrown toddler getting ready for a diaper change. What shame she had initially felt for it had slowly faded in the year since her adoption, and it had just become another part of her routine. Wake up, get changed, have her morning coffee and some breakfast, and then log into work from her own desktop. As a freelance private investigator, she could actually set her own hours. But she was a morning Little. Always had been, always would be. She didn't get far stepping out into the hall before she was scooped up and cradled into Stacy's arms. She smiled and giggled when the red-headed bombshell rubbed their noses together. "There's my special little girl, yes she is," Stacy cooed to her as she carried the smaller girl back into the nursery, laying her down on the changing table and quickly removing the onesie and the thick night time diaper. Stacy was a pro at diaper changes, and in less than a minute, Ash was wiped clean, powdered, and taped into her pink princess daytime diapers. While thick, they had nowhere near the mass of the nightime ones. Soon, Ash found a bright blue dress with puffed shoulder sleeves and a peter pan collar slipped over her head, before Stacy set about tackling her bedhead with a brush. "What's the occasion?" Ash asked, before being offered her binky and accepting it. "We're getting a new neighbor today, Sweetiepie!" Stacy said, picking up the girl and placing her on her hip. The walk downstairs to the kitchen, past all the cute family pics hanging on the wall, was uneventful. Ash was safely buckled into her orange and peach high chair, with a matching bib snapped on. She was then handed her steamy mug of coffee, with two sugars and a splash of cream stirred in, just how she liked it. Ari smiled at the two of them as he entered, adjusting his tie. He and Stacy shared a kiss, and then he kissed Ash on the forehead. Sometimes it was hard to believe that she and Daddy were the same age, and even had the same jet black hair, his reaching his shoulders, while hers was now able to reach the back of her diaper. His mischievous green eyes twinkled in delight. "I see our little Princess is enjoying her morning coffee while sitting on her special throne," he said, heading over and grabbing the plate of food he had made for himself. Stacy was a sweet person, but she could not boil an egg without messing it up horribly. Luckily Ari loved cooking. He set before Ash a big, for her, plate of the chicken omelet. Ash smiled, grabbing her plastic fork and knife and quickly digging in. "So I heard that the new neighbor is a bachelor," Ari said, setting a plate in front of where Stacy sat, finally grabbing his own. "Well, I'll bet that Sheila will be especially interested in hearing that," Stacy said, making Ari chuckle, and Ash roll her eyes. If it had a Y chromosome and could afford its own house, Sheila was on the prowl for it. "Maybe, maybe not, or at least, maybe not in the usual manner," Ari said, smiling slyly to his wife. "Oh?" "Just found out from Randy that our new neighbor is a Little." That caught Ash's attention. She looked up from her omelet to stare at Ari and see if he was trying to make a joke. It was not unheard of for Littles to own their own homes, it was just that the house purchased across the street from their own was built for Amazons. Most Littles in Bentwood stuck to small areas with houses sized for their statures. "Really? And he's buying old Mr. Mulligan's house?" Mr. Mulligan, a rather cantankerous old man, had passed away last month. While not a particularly pleasant man, he was fastidious with the upkeep of his two-story Zictorian-style house. It was white with a massive oak tree in the front yard, and even a tower. Anytime so much as a leaf from a neighbor's tree blew onto his manicured lawn, he would go on over to the offender's home and loudly berate them for it. Old Mr. Mulligan had also been very vocal with his opinions, especially his opinions on Littles and their places in society. To him, all Littles, and even 'Tweeners as a precaution, should have been legally mandated to wear diapers at all times. Needless to say, no one in the neighborhood had been especially torn up over his loss. Old bastard, Ash thought, remembering when the pot-bellied and bald old man had scolded Stacy after he had somehow learned that Ash was working as a private investigator, despite being adopted. He had threatened to call LPS many times, and they had even had to talk with an LPS rep on two occasions, before apparently they realized that the one who called them was just a crazed old man with nothing better to do. She smirked a little at the thought of a Little being the one to buy his house. He's probably spinning in his grave, she thought, taking another bite of cheesy chickeney omelety goodness. "I heard that he works in IT," Ari said, snapping Ash out of her reveries. "and that he didn't even need a loan. He bought the property outright." "Oh wow!" Stacy said with glee. "Well, now I'm excited to meet him! And I'll bet our little Ashley will be too!" She leaned over and smooched Ash on her cheek. Ash smiled, internally cringing a bit. Free Littles just being nearby, no diapers of Amazonian parents in the picture, tended to stir up emotions for Ash, reminding her of what she used to be. She sighed again, before wondering what the new Little neighbor was going to be like. Meanwhile... The sun was shining down while movers were unloading furniture and boxes from the O-Haul truck. There was a light breeze that was carrying with it a tune. It was Thurston Harris' Little Bitty Pretty One. The music started to grow in volume as a car, sized for a Little, started to pull into the driveway next to the truck. One of the movers, a man with a big bushy ginger beard, recognized the car as one from one of the Terra dimensions, a classic. It was a red '58 Plymouth Fury, complete with fishtail lights and a white top, with whitewall tires. The music continued before it was shut off, followed by the car. Getting out was a male Little, definitely over six feet, wearing a tailored navy blue suit with a blood red tie. His chestnut brown hair was short-trimmed and slicked back. He smiled up at the two movers, before they went back to work. The Little turned to see approaching him was an Amazonian couple, and a casual smile spread on his face. "Well, hello there," he said, with a light southern accent to his voice. "Oh, hi there, little fella," the woman cooed, squatting down a bit with a bright smile on her face. "Welcome to the neighborhood! My name is Linda, and this is my husband Marty. If you need any help with anything, you can always come and get one of us!" Linda was a middle-aged Amazon with auburn hair that was partially curled. She had some curves to her, and was wearing a white sundress, a gold locket hanging around her neck and dangling in between her ample bosom. The man, Marty, was wearing khaki shorts and a green polo shirt. He nodded to the Little, but otherwise said nothing. "I appreciate that. It certainly is a pleasure to make both of your acquaintances. I am Patrick Maetnab," he said, holding out a hand to shake. And there you have it readers, the very first part of a new mini-project. I hope that you enjoyed it.
  4. I'm taking a punt on this type of story, its going to be full of magic and vamipres, let me know if you like it and if you wish to roleplay with this theme or something similar. I've been told that I shouldn't put pictures in the story but I like too coz its better than a long list of what the character looks like. So this is Mattias Bourbon he is a thousand year old vampire. This is Matilda Rogers but she goes by Tilly. She is 18 years old. Chapter 1 - Sweet Girl We Meet Again Back and forth, back and forth. That's all I could do. It had been 8 hours, I could hear the church bells as the chimed on the hour. They called it a bedroom but if you have a lock on the outside of the door and bars on the window it's really a cell. I had been in this asylum for as long as I can remember. It was the only home I had ever known, not that it was much of a home. This really was a hell on earth. Lifting my dirty shift I had to wear day in and day out, I gently place my hands on my poor marked bottom. Sister Agatha had really done a number on it this morning. Stupid old nun. If she had let me speak at breakfast I would have told her I had to pee. I tried to get her attention but she had shushed me, It wasn't long before I felt the warm trickle of pee run down my legs and form a little puddle on the floor. I had tried to hide it as we left the dining hall but Sally the Snitch had to shout out "Tilly wet herself again!" Sister Agatha came up behind me and before I could do anything she had grabbed my ear twisting it so I was forced to bend over "YOU WICKED WICKED GIRL!" she shouts as she pulls me along the hallways to the punishment room. Pushing me down over the old exercise horse she used the straps that are attached to the bottom of it to secure my hands and feet. She then picked a switch, there was a bunch of them and the nuns liked to use them on us all the time. She roughly pulls my dress up and without warning she starts to whip me, I try to be brave but it isn't long before I break and beg for mercy "PLEASE SISTER!" I scream as the switch cuts into my poor bottom. "WICKED GIRL!" was all she said as she continue to whip me. My whole body was shaking when she finally finished. Unbuckling the straps I slide onto the floor. To weak and scared to move but Sister Agatha simply pulled me up and along by the arm. When we got to my cell she pushed me in and slammed the door. I crawled up onto my old army cot and sobbed. I could swear my bottom was bleeding but it was far too sore to touch. After I had finally calmed myself down I got up and I had been walking in straight lines since. There was nothing else to do, all that was in the room was an old army cot and a chamber pot. The sun had set about 2 hours ago, it was December so the nights came fast. It was so cold here, I had the blanket they gave to each of the girls, wrapped around my shoulders to try and keep me warm. I wanted heat and food, I didn't care which came first. Suddenly I can hear voices coming along the hall, it sounded like Sister Mary, the mother superior and a man. But that couldn't be right. No men were allowed in St Peter's Girls Asylum. They stop outside the locked door of my cell, fearing more punishment I quickly get into bed and pretend to be asleep. Keys jangle and the door opens. "Are you sure you want this one?" Sister Mary asks "Yes she is the one" the man answers and I feel him coming closer to the cot, he bends down, I guess to take a better look at me so I keep my eyes shut "Sweet girl, we meet again. I'll take her" Take me where? And what did he mean we meet again? I think. We weren't supposed to leave ever and I had definitely never met anyone apart from the nuns and other inmates. "Now?" Sister Mary sounds a little put out. She sighs before ripping the blanket away from me "Up girl" I open my eyes again and see Sister Mary standing over me with a man beside her. I had never seen a man before, not in real life anyways just in pictures and books when the nuns weren't looking. He looked like a giant. "Up up up!" Sister Mary repeats, clearly I wasn't moving fast enough for her, I sit up and move to get off the cot, my bottom touches the cot causing me to cry out "Ouch!" I jump up and rub my bottom. "She's been punished?" The man asks, his voice emotionless and cold. "Well Tilly here has a problem with wetting, we have tried many different methods to stop it but none have worked. So now she is whipped every time she wets" "I would like to inspect the damage" he says I think he is talking to me. I look at Sister Mary, unsure what to do but she simply nods. Hoping I am doing the right thing I slowly turn around and bend over a little before lifting my dress up to my waist. "Tsk tsk tsk" is all the man says as I feel a hand on my bottom, but it doesn't hurt like it should, it feels soothing. This is odd, I think. He removes his hand and I straighten up allowing my dress to fall back into place. Without saying anything else to Sister Mary the man turns to leave my cell "Come Matilda" he orders, not even looking back. Sister Mary grabs my arm as stay glued to the spot. "Go with him girl, do what he says or you shall be right back here" Without a second thought I walk as quickly as I can to catch up with the man. I dare not speak until we are out the front door of the asylum. "Where are we going?" I ask as he opens the passenger door of his large black car. He ignores me. "Get in young lady or sore bottom or not you will be punished" I quickly slide into the car as he gets into the other side. Reaching over me he pulls the seatbelt around me and clips it into place. He drives through the old gates and heads towards a dark and winding road. "Where are we going?" I dare to ask again. He gives a simple one word answer. "Home"
  5. The Face Another early morning and already James is feeling angry and resentful. Ever since the unknown virus had entered his body and more or less disabled him he’s been getting angrier and angrier by the minute… even when he was asleep his dreams were all about him angrily doing something. The doctor’s regular visits over the past eight weeks had also angered him. The man was an absolute buffoon. What the hell did it mean - he didn’t know what the problem was? How could they not find something out from the seemingly never ending supply of blood that was taken from his veins? Was everyone at the damned testing lab incompetent? James had woken up eight weeks ago and found he could hardly move. His legs and arms were paralysed even though the rest of his body was working as normal. This had become a constant source of frustration for him. At twenty eight years old he had the normal urges a young man in his prime would have and as blood flowed to his penis he was thwarted in any attempt to relieve himself. The catheter they attached to take away his strangely greenish piss had done little to interfere with what became almost constant hard-ons. This wasn’t the cause of his angry frustrations but it certainly didn’t help. Then, because of a rather nasty infection the catheter was removed and he had to entertain the idea, as a twenty something, of wearing a nappy. He hated that piece of material. The nurses manhandling, the embarrassment of a stiff cock and not being able to do a thing about it, but worst of all was lying around in a wet and messed in nappy... just waiting. The nurse had obviously been in while he was still asleep and left a cup of tea on the bed side table… but of course he couldn’t reach it and knew he’d have to wait for her return so he could have the cup cradled to his lips as he sipped the lukewarm beverage. He’d tried to talk the old nurse into giving him a wank but she had retreated embarrassed and threatened to leave seven weeks ago. So now she only spent time with him when meals were to be taken, the doctor arrived, some medical exam or her sanitary obligations had to be performed. She had taken badly against James and saw her job of bringing relief to the suffering of those patients in her charge to be only medical and not recreational. Although performed with efficiency she completed each and every change with as little eye contact as possible. Once he’d returned from the hospital where the array of talented doctors had to admit to being baffled by this mysterious complaint James had spent the last eight weeks lying in his bed unable to move. Unbeknown to him, a few were of the opinion that it was something that was mental and his ‘virus’ was the product of his own imaginings. He had told them that on the night when this strange condition had taken hold of his body he had dreamed of a great wasp-like thing stinging him at the base of his spine and he’d woken sweating uncontrollably, in fear, a soaked bed and crying but unable to move. He had managed to scream for help but living alone it had taken a couple of days for anyone to hear his cries for assistance. So he’d had to live in his own piss and excrement for all that time, it was a situation he wouldn’t have wished on anyone. Now each night, and completely frustrated at having to rely on anybody else, the man who was a champion squash player… well in his works league at least… and on the front row of the local amateur rugby club… he wore the shirt with pride… fell asleep and his head spun with the weird dreams that occupied his nocturnal thoughts. It’s strange but… well… never had his dreams seemed more real. Never had such a strange and disparate selection of extraordinary, connived and utterly stupid electrons fused together in his brain to produce a panorama of madness and mayhem. Each dream seemed to outdo the last. He both feared and looked forward to his eyes closing and the dream merchants bringing on unbidden the bizarre and exotic… with the occasional erotic thrown in to seemingly mock him for what he was now unable to do. * He shouted for the nurse. The cup of tea was cooling quickly and he hated drinking cold tea. He’d learned that his requests to his nurse for anything normally fell on deaf ears until it suited her… she had her own routine and she wasn’t going to let the fact that he was paying to be cared for interfere with that. Even his nappy was only changed when it suited her. James hated the bitch but had come to rely on her. He gazed out of the window. It faced north so never actually got much sun coming full into his room but this particular early spring morning was glorious. He could see out into the fields and the morning sun lit them up and was bringing out the new green buds on the trees awakening from their winter’s hibernation. If he wasn’t in his usual bad mood he may have quite enjoyed the view… even the pale blue sky seemed to go on for ever without so much as a single cloud to spoil the view. Actually, as he stared out of the window he could see a small black ‘something’ on the far blue horizon. Perhaps it was a small flock of birds but he couldn’t quite make out what it was. He called for the nurse again, he really didn’t want to suffer cold tea again, and a very full nappy but she wasn’t in any rush to come to his assistance. He needed her to put the TV or radio on as well as he couldn’t control the controls. Annoyed and frustrated he returned to looking out over the peaceful sunny morning view… everything the same except that the black smudge on the horizon seemed to be getting bigger and he wondered if there was perhaps a fire burning off in the distance. He couldn’t make it out but shouted loudly again for the nurse to come to him. A voice called back that she was on the phone to the doctor and that she would be up in a minute. That calmed him down a little but he knew that cup of tea would be undrinkable now and that his nemesis would not think of brewing him another cup. It wasn’t like it was rocket science for God’s sake he’d think to himself, as he wondered if anyone of his team-mates would visit him today. He knew they wouldn’t… over the past eight weeks a total of… zero… zilch… bugger all… not one of those bloody self-centred bastards had taken the trouble to come and visit or call to see how he was. It was as if no one even missed the fact that he wasn’t around anymore. “Bastards every fucking one of them” he thought… he couldn’t wait for the chance to ignore them once he was in full health. He looked out of the window again. Hell that black cloud was getting larger by the moment. It put him in mind of a sight he’d seen on a television nature programme where a plague of locusts had swooped in on some poor foreign country and eaten the area’s entire crops leaving the locals starving. It wasn’t a nice image but he’d been enthralled by what nature could do if it wanted and there was bugger all Man could do to stop it. * As he thought these thoughts… the black cloud seemed to separate and peel away in different directions. “How amazing” James thought and was even more amazed as after a few minutes the two separate clouds changed direction again and came as two parallel lines towards his home. He still couldn’t make out what it was but saw that it wasn’t two solid black entities but a multitude of separate moving parts. It was a swarm but, he wondered, a swarm of what? Again his mind went back to the locusts and he thought he was witnessing one of natures little quirks manifest itself in his back field. Suddenly for some reason James felt uncomfortable. Sweat had begun to form on his forehead and his body was clammy under the sheets. His bladder gave way as the green brackish liquid filled his already pretty soaked nappy and his bowel tightened as he tried to keep from messing in his thick protection. Pain stabbed at his insides as he failed to hold himself in check and a brown liquid steam oozed from his backside as he gave way to the excruciating agony that gripped his belly. He mournfully cried out through clamped shut eyes as if for some reason he knew… he just knew… that something terrible was about to happen. He was scared to open even one eye as he tried to block out what was waiting for him should he dare to even blink his eyes open for a split second. His misery got worse and he could feel his eyes, by some strange and malevolent entity, being prised open. He fought as hard as he could… crying out “No No No” to no one in particular… but suddenly his eyes were open wide. He blankly gazed out of his window… but the field had gone, the blue sky had gone, his newly budding trees were gone but there, hovering were a mass of shapes moving around… themselves seemingly caught up in some terrifying current of air. Images of bodies being tossed around at random… darting skyward and then plummeting earthward filled the view from his window. James was scared and transfixed as this myriad of changing, dark, yet animated, images appeared to clamour at his window. The buzz clattered against the window pane and he could make out that they were giant wasps. Terror tightly gripped his chest as he made the connection between his waking dream and his illness. There, beyond the window, was the cause of his situation but now they’d returned in their millions. Then it happened. * The cacophonous sound in his head surprised him. His blood ran cold as he tried desperately to heave himself from the bed and hide. The noise seemed to be calling to him, this time louder and more demanding. He hoped it would be the nurse at the doorway telling him off for being such a complaining baby but there was no one around. His body temperature was dropping quickly and his breathing got more and more laboured. His cold breath creating a small cloud as he breathed out but his face was drawn once again toward the window. All those millions of wasp-like images had become a solid mass of ghostly figures, which then became one. A face. A face that was beckoning James. “Come” The word came again this time demanding and commanding him for the final time. * The nurse arrived in the bedroom to find her charge cold and dead. His eyes were wide open in terror and his mouth locked in an unheard scream. She couldn’t understand what had happened and rushed to telephone the doctor who only minutes earlier had told her that he thought he’d found a solution to their patient’s problem. She didn’t see the black smudge retreating back over the blue horizon. She didn’t hear the return of birdsong that had been silenced for the last few minutes and she never saw the final tear trickle down the face of her charge. James was indeed dead but his torment was just beginning. ***** *****
  6. Maybe this should be in the Diaper References forum but whatever... Asking because I love to see ABDL mentions/references in movies (indie or mainstream)...ecspecially in horror since its my favorite genre. Also keep in mind for whatever reason ABDL content tends to show up quite frequently in horror cinema from what I have seen...(for example) Rupert (2017), Peelers (2016), Poultryguist (2006) Toxic Avenger 4 (2000)...plus of course, The Baby (1973) and Attack of the Adult Babies (2017) And yes I get the media in general does not happen to portray our community very fair "usually"...but this is just for fun. DONT TAKE THIS TOO SERIOUSLY GUYS! Lets actually SHOOT THE POOP! Btw by "references" that doesnt have to mean EXACT mentions to the ABDL fetish per say in Horror...rather that can mean horror movies where adults are treated like babies, wear diapers etc.
  7. Hay I am looking for a writer to commission, but he or she must be able to do horror and ABDL stuff, you see I have an idea were this curl business woman buys this doll and her life starts to fall apart.
  8. First I want to blame/thank @BabySofia for the idea behind this story while we were debating the Diaper Dimension. This is very different then anything else I have ever written and has been a joy and a complete pain in the padded butt. On that note I would like to thank @Pudding for being my editor and proof reader. The most powerful thing in this world, I think, is the bond between a mother and her child. A child’s inability to understand this correlation does not detract from it; for this bond transcends both the infinity and the very cosmos itself. Philosophers and scientists have, for countless ages, known of this power and sought to explain it. However, none have come to know the true nature behind this universal force as I have. While many were blind to this wellspring of latent potential that has existed since the time stars were young, others have awaited the herald of such to awaken once more. For unlike those who have lived in ignorance, I know now that those days are numbered; as for once a secret is learned, it can never be unlearned. Accidental is a term used by the weak minded, by those yet to grasp the complexity of the universe or its true plan. I stumbled upon this revelation on the eve of my 30th birthday. Gone from this world for four years my parents had been; the car they drove guiding them from this world and into the next. Or, at least, what was left of it. The all-consuming pain at their loss had taken years to heal, even with my only living relative, my Aunt Clara, helping what little she could. Just as her sister had been taken from this world, it seemed like a part of her had been taken as well. My Aunt seemed determined to bury herself in studies, the likes of which I believed best left alone, and her disappearance had come so suddenly and so unexpected, with the pieces and expectations left to fall upon me in her stead. The house felt bereft, and it was as though the walls themselves watched me as I explored the residence of my now lost relative. While the house itself drew no concern, Clara’s study was another matter entirely; inside I found an endless sea of books and notes, scattered across the room like a great hurricane destroyed the room and left the walls and ceiling intact. The floor boards wailed and creaked like banshees with each step I took, and among the mess of papers and detritus I suddenly found myself drawn to a small book. The cover was unlike anything my eyes had witnessed, not in this life and not in my darkest of nightmares; a diapered infant carved into the cover, embraced by tentacles emerging from an inhuman darkness. Below the picture there sat bizarre hieroglyphics that seemed otherworldly. Most unsettlingly, and without rhyme or reason, I understood what exactly was written, even without understanding the writing itself: Diapa'thulhu. A dominant, uncharted instinct compelled me to seize the malformed abomination of literature, and as I did I felt a sudden breeze running up my spine despite there being no logical point of origination. Shath'Yar Diapa'Thulhu Uovssh thyzz It was a whisper on the edge of my reality, an exotic and yet somehow horrifying sound in both sheer nature and the explainable contentment that came along with the sound, and I knew without knowing that I’d found why my aunt was missing. The book opened into my hands like an affectionate feline seeking attention, and more glyphs filled the pages. With my unexplained ability to read what I saw, I recited words that were certainly not of this world "Ph'Magg Pu'Elotha." For a fleeting moment, my mind felt on the edge of understanding something, something perhaps beyond this world, and then nothing. I dared not speak the indecipherable words again, knowing full well what I had said: "Endless torment in Pu'Elotha." Unable to comprehend what was happening, I left the building of horrors with her book, with hopes that within I’d discover more understanding. Obsession gripped me upon departure from the house, owing in certainty to the book. I’d discovered in time that it had been the diary of one Beth Lovecraft; a tome she’d penned following in the wake of her mother’s disappearance. The authoress had learned of a cult she believed had connections with her mother, and months she had concealed herself therein, learning of the true darkness obscured from the world of man. The cult dubbed it the “First Mother,” depicting a being older than time itself and with unexplainable and undeniable cosmic power and knowledge. This inheritance passed to its daughters of this world, the power of motherhood. A power known to all, but truth understood by none, save the Cult of the First Mother. A mother creates her offspring and from her bosom she nurtures life, to carry forth, and to do her will. In millennia past it had been betrayed, the creature’s own essence used against it, used to create a seal for all eternity. And though sealed, the power of Diapa’Thulhu still reached out to those that would heed the mothers call, to those who would break the seal, and bring the first mother into the world once more. The horrors Beth had witnessed were almost too much to read. The book told of a young woman brought in one night for dark rituals to bind her soul to that of the first mother, offering a microscopic amount of essence to the creature that it could one day be free. The screams of the women turned in pitch and tone to the squeals of an infant babe signaled the rituals completion. Gone was the woman she had once been, her eyes a deep unending blackness that sought to consume all who peered within. Clothed in only a diaper for all eternity, it had been told that even the name of such a garment grew from the First Mothers influence. One day, all would be one with Diapa’Thulhu, as this non-believer now had become. Men appeared to have had little use in such rituals, and though their fate would be the same as women, their essence lacked the capacity to free the abomination and they were thus afforded a limited freedom. Beth had fled shortly after her discovery mired in fear and guilt she returned to the family she had left behind. I began to fear my aunt had now passed the point of return, in much the same manner as Beth’s mother had been. I discovered a piece of paper hidden within the pages, revealing an address written in the unmistakable elegant scrawl of my aunt herself. I believed it was from this address that my aunt had obtained this item from Beth Lovecraft, and it signaled my last modicum of hope. This curse that had passed from person to person had now revealed to me a world unknown to most. My aunt was trapped within its walls and though I lacked optimism, I found little recourse. The next morning upon the eve of my 30th birthday, I arrived at the address left to me. A young woman answered my knocks and showed true apprehension when I showed the excretion of literature, and it was hard to blame her for such a response. Her name was Marcie Lovecraft, heiress and daughter to Beth of the same bloodline. After some convincing she agreed to take me to her mother, though she believed nothing could help me. An odd yet familiar feeling washed upon me as I entered; heat seemed to radiate from all directions as though I were inside hell itself. It wasn’t so much as to be unbearable, but it would seem to have been prudent to shed some layers of clothing. As we traveled further, a soft sent of baby powder permeated the halls, the sound of a baby’s lullaby just on the edge of hearing, and with each step I felt like I was descending deeper into my own demise. Our travels through halls rich with the hellish confluence of powder and brimstone came to an end when Marcie opened a door. Nothing I had witnessed up to this point could have prepared me for what I was so casually presented. The room was a nursery, almost like any other with one indisputable difference: the size and sense of scale. The bright pink color of the walls was almost blinding, contrasted by the misbegotten and grotesquely engorged baby toys scattered across the floor. White wooden prison bars made up a crib not dissimilar in size from the single bed I had awoke from earlier in the day. A malodorous sent of baby powder and ammonia drew my attention to a massive changing table, a small mobile circling above to vague attempt to offer some escape to the poor soul deprived the most basic concealment of their intimate parts. Movement drew my eyes to a figure in the middle of the room, a middle-aged woman, her mouth a pink empty mountain range in which rivers of saliva flowed over where teeth had once been. A waterfall that fell past her lips and joined the puddle forced on the small pink shirt that stopped just above her navel. Below the soaked through shirt, the women was adorned in an enormous diaper, the same hieroglyphics before, this time reading "Diapa’Thulhu Yu’Gaz." In abject horror I came to the realization that the adult sized infant before me was none other than Beth Lovecraft, although kneeling beside her to recite her name garnered neither response nor recollection. Only the feeling of my hands, of my touch, drew the attention of the perverse amalgamation, her head slowly turning to face me. An unnatural smile spread across her face in a manner I wasn’t certain a mortal being to be capable of, and at last she broke the silence; but not with words. A foul sound erupted from the seat of her diaper, and for reasons beyond my control I shifted my attention to the noise she had created in time to witness the seat of her diaper expanding outward like a balloon, bringing with it a smell I found both putrid and beautiful. Finally controlling my eyes, my stare shifted from the ever-spreading diaper to the infantized woman’s body; the pink shirt was now missing and left her naked save for her diaper, and salivaflowed like rivers of the pink toothless mountains that were her gums, splashing onto her now bared chest. Her eyes, pitch as black and darker than the blackest of nights found my gaze, and I was taken aback by the all-consuming darkness. As I stood and backed away, I felt something block my retreat. Diapa’Thulhu Yu’Gaz Lilth qi The whisper echoed through my mind and as if I was in a drunken stupor, it was as though the universe collapsed in on itself. I turned to in shock and my vision filled with the form of Beth's daughter, appropriately naked but for a diaper and with eyes as black as her mother’s and a pink pacifier between her lips. The darkness felt all consuming, like I was drowning in a sea of pitch I could never hope to escape. A river of gold flowed down my legs as I fought with all my might against the wamrth, but my body stayed fixed in place, immobile. I could feel it coming, an end to all that I was and all things in creation. I began to scream, in my mind and then out loud, as I clawed for the last vestiges of my sanity until… I woke. With a scream I sat up in the warm wet puddle that had become my bed. The terror was still fresh in my mind, how close I had been to oblivion I could never be sure. It had all seemed as real as this room did in this moment, and I couldn’t shake the feelings of what had just happened. The morning I spent calming my nerves, lost to the notion that what I had seen could very well be a glimpse into the future if I tumbled down the rabbit hole to this destination. A part of me couldn’t help but wonder, though, if the events that transpired in my mind were done just to ward me from proceeding. Could it be that somehow this… malformation of the primordial universe… could it feel my fear? Never before had a choice so simple in design but so complex in its variables ever been presented, not in my life or anybody else’s, I was certain. A choice that could reshape not only me, but the entire world. Deformed curiosity and dread guided my actions, and I knew in the deepest of truths that I’d come too far to give up now. If the grotesque book of malice written by Beth was to be believed, then this world sits on borrowed time. And If there is even a single iota of justice and righteousness in the infinite cosmos then perhaps there is a way to stop such a malformation. Confusion had become alarmingly normal for me now, and as I researched my inevitable destination, I learned that it was not within the city, but situated in the mountains to the east. My maps only revealed roads that had once been, even from a Gods-Eye View, a vantage perversely delivered by satellite, produced nothing but rock and tree. And as the roads of the mountain became worse and worse, it was clear that no simple automobile would finish this the journey and thus I set out to complete it by foot. The journey along the long-abandoned, long-neglected, road had been an unnatural silence, nary a bird in the sky or a breath of wind, and at last I found my destination in a wash of both relief and disappointment. What I beheld was an old cottage sitting inclined against the side of the mountain, long forgotten by time as much as the stone itself. "Diapa’Thulhu Yu’Gaz Lilth qi" The whisper on non-existent wind burned a message upon me that I was in the right place. The cottage was old and rotten, parts of the roof had collapsed upon itself in the fatigue of time and the structure was empty and decrepit that it any wonder it had not collapsed yet. My attention was suddenly drawn to a carving in the wall that faced the mountain, a something that I had seen many times during the past few days: Diapa’Thulhu. My hand extended almost of its own volition, touching the carving of the abominations name and I found it strangely warm. I pushed against it slightly and as I did, the wall of the rotten wood cottage detached and opened as an ersatz door, revealing that the cottage had been built only to hide this concealed chasm. Beyond the door, immesne stone pillars lead the way into the chasm, long ago constructed only to house something never intended to be found. Shath'Yar Diapa'Thulhu Uovssh thyzz Pu'Elotha A monumental gate of phantasmal tentacles that seemed to reach into the very void from whence it came stood before me. I could not understand how such a structure could exist; its very geometry seemed an affront to the laws of physics, and at that moment I finally understood where I truly was... "Pu'Elotha" Saying it aloud caused my mind to explode in static that I couldn’t assigned a feeling to, was this a boon or a torture? Slowly the phantasmal tentacles began to recede from the heavens and opened the way into pure darkness. The calming and now familiar scent of baby powder rose from the unending blackness, and a faint sound could be heard lost to distance, so much like in my dream. I wasn’t sure how long I traveled through the darkness, like time itself was swallowed too, but all at once when I turned to look behind me I was no longer wrapped in void; I had entered a nursery much like the horrifying nightmare had portrayed. The room was not empty, however, and the mindless slaves of the creature were scattered across the expanse of frightening stuffed animals, tended and doted over by mindless caretakers that moved and acted like nannies. The subjects to be tended to were naked, it seemed, save for oversized diapers that were so large and thick that teetered on the edge of consuming them whole. My eyes scanned the room and in a moment of bittersweet conflict, they came to rest on someone I didn’t dare hope to see again: my aunt. There was a smell of rotting death emanating from the brown stained seat of her diaper and just below her navel I could see a tattoo I had seen before, only now it seemed to pulse a dark and ancient power. Despite her state, even knowing my aunt was alive filled me with the pinnacle of hope I needed in that moment. Drool dripped on her lips as she loudly smashed two blocks together over and over. It was hard to see her like this. Resolved and resolute, I leaned with outstretched hands to pluck her from this mirage of nightmares. Before I could react, however, my aunt dropped her block and grabbed both sides of my head with her hands, forcing pure darkness of her eyes directly into my soul. The black was consuming all over again, and I felt everything falling into nothing no matter how hard I pulled or fought against it the tugging inside of me. The dark was all I could see and her hands still held me in place until finally they no longer did; like her hands had suddenly disappeared and the world itself vanished alongside. Though my head was free, I was enveloped by inky ichor, with the terrifying sound of something slithering and squishing in deep in the void. And it was getting louder, closer. And I learned in quick measure that the only thing more impossible then the darkness itself was the creature born from it, the figure that rose up before me. Words failed to capture the juxtaposition of horror and beauty, nor the way the creature shifted and changed, as if it's form was being concentrated or swallowed, mashed together by an errant force. A young woman stepped forward, leaving the shell of what had been an unimaginable abomination but remaining wrapped up in it like a perverse paradox. Her eyes were closed as she approached, her hand outstretched invitingly and threateningly, and I felt my clothing fall from my body like hourglass sand, if only the sand ceased to exist before hitting the bottom. Be it by fear or some other unknown force, my body would not act as I commanded. The creature placed its appendage just below my navel, and I felt a distant and yet fiercely hot burning sensation. If I had the ability to scream, I would have, for when the vile creature had lifted her touch, I saw the same marking I’d witnessed upon my aunts broken body. And from the marking, one beautiful, oily dark and perfect hand slid down, while the other pulled up on my chin to bring my gaze in line with the gorgeous voids that would be her eyes. The familiar, breathtaking, beautifully terrifying darkness. “Diapa’Thulhu Yu’Gaz Lilth qi” Her words sounded like hundreds upon millions of voices spoke as one intent, and the result upon me was immediate and instant. Horrifying and fantastic power flowed through my body as the creature’s appendage found my most intimate spot, suddenly no longer a hand as it moved and wiggled between my legs. All-encompassing pleasure began to drive me mad, and I couldn’t understand what was being done to my womanhood, I couldn’t process a feeling that no mortal was ever meant to feel. The void consumed my soul, while the pleasure consumed my body and mind, and if I didn't run now, I knew this would be the end of me. I fought for minutes, months, years, I was so unsure and it was though time had no meaning here and every tick of the nonsensical clock had slipping further and further until finally her lips embraced mine. And as her warmth touched me, my world exploded into a pleasure I never wanted to leave. An ocean of wetness had burst forth from my loins and none of it dribbled down my legs, my new mother’s hand pulled away from my crotch and I heard an all too familiar crinkle that heralded the essence of the mother. I felt the tentacle tongue of my beautiful mother caress the toothless mounds of pink gums until it reached deep into my soul. For the briefest of moments as her lips pulled free of mine, I felt and then saw a strange spiritual essence leave my body to join hers. Trickles of drool fell from my lips upon my mostly naked body, and I giggled as the crinkling sound returned. The sound became a feeling and the the feeling was the seat of my mother’s power wrapped around my loins expanding, filled with a foul substance that caused me no end of delight. The act of soiling myself felt so natural, as though I was always meant to and always would forever more. Mothers hand shifted once more as it reached around to squish the seat of my diaper with a tendril, and she smiled as she spoke. "Krz'ek fhn'z agash Diapa'Thulhu! Sk'yahf guulphg hoq!" My legs became useless as I tumbled downward, landing my wondrously repulsive bottom dressed in crinkled mushy excrement upon the floor. I couldn’t walk and I no longer possessed the knowledge how to, nor did I care. Mother retreated into the darkness, allowing the light of the room to come into focus. In the nursery I sat before my stinky sister that I had once called an aunt. My sister propped herself on all fours and crawled away, and unable to follow her, I remained. For everything I am is what my mother allows me to me, I am whatever she wants me to be, I am her unless, foul, dirty, mindless baby. I am filled with more joy and delight, for this is what mother had planned for me the moment I entered my former aunts home. Soon the universe would know our mothers power and be one with her, much as I am now, for I now know the power of this bond... Shath'Yar Diapa'Thulhu Uovssh thyzz Pu'Elotha Diapa’Thulhu Yu’Gaz Lilth qi Krz'ek fhn'z agash Diapa'Thulhu! Sk'yahf guulphg hoq! Mother Diaper'Thulhu waited so long in Pu'Elotha Diapa'Thulhu Servant, you will be Your pitiful kind will know only Diapa'Thulhu! Your soul will sustain me!
  9. Hi everyone! This story is a repost, from an old story I wrote back in 2013. It's been about 5 years since I initially began writing this story, and with the recent purge of this forum section, I figured I'd not just post this story, but I'd rewrite it entirely! Or, essentially, I took the entire story, and redrafted it to make it more reader friendly (as well as fix a few plot holes and update some of the subjects, i.e, diapers, phone conversations). Anyways, I hope you like it. I'll try to speed through posting these, since I have to get these posted before I go back to my university. --- CHAPTER 1: The Backwoods Here in Maisefeld, USA, the town is generally flat, with the exception of a rolling hills, and the backwoods that exist on the outskirt of town. I'd consider our town pretty small; with about 20,000 people. You see, I live in a small, one story house with my Mom and we just happen to live near the suburban outskirts, with a very large "backyard", consisting of a nearly never ending backwood. Ever since I was a kid, I was told "Alex, never go into the Maisefeld Backwoods by yourself!". I've been told stories of children who go missing, adults who have gotten lost for days, and pets who run away, never to return. But I shouldn't have to fear that anymore, right? I mean, I'm 14 for lord's sake. Well, to be fair, maybe I’m grown up enough to go into the woods. I mean, I haven't even advanced from diapers yet... After my Dad passed away when I was 4, my potty training never really worked out, and eventually, I never grew out of diapers. The financial burden was rough at times growing up, but eventually Mom figured a way to bill them through our healthcare provider, I think. She stopped diapering me when I was 9, and now, 5 years later, I’m still in diapers. It's nice, because in public, I never have to ask for the bathroom. It’s sounds luxurious, but in reality, it’s a bit tricky to deal with. However, that’s not what this story’s about… I got home from school today, on a Wednesday, and had to use my diaper, so I could poop. As usual, I threw my backpack and jacket on the floor, took off my pants, and gazed out the back door, to relax and concentrate on messing. The woods were so dark from the pine trees filtering the light of the day. My eyes gazed across the forest, taking note of every stick and branch that had fallen into it’s new place on the forest floor, and judging the distance from our backyard fence, across the dirt pathway, into the layers of dead leaves and sticks. While I slowly used my diaper, I noticed something a bit out of place more than usual. I squinted my eyes and recognized a red plastic ball. It was just a few feet into the woods, as if a child had thrown it over the fence. Thinking it was one of the neighbors, I slid open the glass door, and walked out to my backyard fence. I stood behind the gate, and set my head on the fence; the brick walls of suburbia lined the dirt path for hundreds of yards, until it curved with the housing tract. Noticing no one was around, I figured the ball must have been blown into the forest by the wind. The ball was a stark red color, and seemed the be the only vibrant object in the woods. It was just a ball, so I went back inside, and shut the door. My diaper needed changing and was starting to stink, so I went into the bathroom to take care of it. After a few hours of homework and another diaper change, my Mom came home a bit late, muttered a ‘hello’ to me, then went to bed. As a single parent, she’s been struggling to balance a hectic work life and a personal life at home. Recently, she’s been dating again, and is trying to move us into a nicer home. It’s made me a bit of a latchkey kid, since she’s always out of the house, but as long as she’s happy, I am too. At around 8pm, I walked back to the backdoor, and stared out the window, to see if the red ball was still there. I walked back outside and found that it had disappeared, perhaps lost into the woods, or picked up by someone walking the back alley behind the housing tract. Behind my fence is a small dirt alley that separates the backyards of the homes on our cul-de-sac from the surrounding wilderness. I've always assumed a pipeline is underneath the dirt alley. I looked in my neighbor's backyard and found nothing, and the house to the left of mine is vacant, with no red ball to be found. Quickly, the cold air got the best of me, and I went back inside. An hour later, I turned off the TV, then shut off all the lights; closing up for the night. As I turned out the living room light, I caught a shadow move near the window in the corner of my eye. I turned quickly and stopped for a second. I stayed still for about a minute, looking for some movement to see if I was seeing anything. After a minute of waiting, I finally turned around and went to bed. Regardless, it gave me chills. —- And now Chapter 2: --- CHAPTER 2: An Abduction The crack of dawn woke me up, and brought me back to reality. I threw off the covers, and sat up to the familiar sight of a soaked diaper. It crinkled noticeably as I threw off the blanket and walked to the shower to get ready. Less than an hour later, I was on my walk to school. It’s nice because school is just a few blocks away in a flat town, so I would walk to school everyday; Mom used to drive me to school until I started high school. The air was cold, and seemed to burn my face as I walked against the wind. Another 10 minutes later, I was at school, and headed to class as the bell rang. My morning classes were always the worst. During lunch, I met with my closest friend, Cameron. We don’t share a clique or anything, but we hang out a lot outside of class. What’s special about Cameron is his passion for diapers, which is a something we share. Though, Cameron doesn’t wear diapers everyday like I do. “Hi, Cameron,” I said, walking up to him. He greeted me casually, and we exchanged a fair amount of banter, before he said, “Did you hear about what happened last night?”. I shook my head, confused. “Well, apparently Joey was kidnapped. You know, that really short freshman we always see slouched down by the 100s bungalows?” Cameron continued. I wasn’t too familiar with who he was referring, but knowing some kid in our small school was abducted, was… unsettling, to say the least. “Joey? The short, dirty blonde haired kid?” I recalled. “Yeah, I guess so. He lived on the other side of town by the woods. I’d be careful.” Cameron said, taking off his backpack, and slumping down against the chemistry building’s wall, opposite me. Cameron also mentioned how he read, Joey stated he ‘felt like someone was watching him all the time’. “Why?” I asked, now a bit concerned. Cameron looked up at me, “Because those woods are sketchy. From what I read, he went out to the dirt alley behind his house, and that was the last time he was heard from.”. I shook a bit from the cold air, “I-I’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. Anyways, what are you doing after school? I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”. Cameron took out his phone to check a text, then replied, “Uhh, my Mom wanted me to go to church this evening, but I think I can blow it off. You have anything good at your place?”. “Yes, my new diapers are getting dropped off sometime today, I think you’d like these!” I enthusiastically grinned as I kept my voice down. Cameron looked away and smiled, then said, “Nice, let me just text my Mom, then I'll be good to hang out.”. He said, before he stood up, and we walked back to class. After school, Cameron and I met up just outside the front office and we walked home together. The weather had warmed up a little, but the breeze was starting to pick up, so we rushed home. Scathed by the dry cold air, we finally got home in record time; I made sure to pick up the heavy box of diapers off the porch, and put them on the kitchen table to open. The first thing I did when I got inside was make sure the back door was locked, before I began opening up the box. “ABUniverse? How can you afford these?” Cameron asked, as I pulled out one of the eight packs of diapers. “Mom got a raise a month ago, or so. She asked me what I should order, and I took your advice.” I smiled, dumping the other seven packs onto the carpet from the cardboard box; there were 3 packs of Simple, 3 packs of Space, and 2 packs of Little Pawz. “Quality stuff, dude! I’m excited for you.” He said, opening the plastic on a ‘Little Pawz’. “They might be a bit big on you and me, since the website said the minimum waist size is 31”.” I said, as he pulled out a diaper that seemed to be larger than his head. He didn’t waste any time, as he quickly pulled off his pants and underwear, exposing himself to me. In a flash, Cameron unfolded the diaper, threw it between his legs, pulled the wings up, and taped on the tapes. The diaper looked a little bit big, but the tapes didn’t touch each other, so I figured the size fit well. Meanwhile, I piled the remaining seven packs of diapers into my arms, and began to carry them to my room. “Aaah…” He sighed, while a very noticeable yellow stain poured down the front of the diaper, accompanied by the audible hissing of his pee, which faded out quickly, “I’m done.” He said moments later, straightening his posture. “You should’ve waited, a little while, now you’re stuck in a wet diaper.” I giggled as I walked to my room; arms full. “I had to go, bad! Plus it’s not like I’ll be wearing it all day, I got stuck going to that crappy church event.” His voice echoed from the family room. “You couldn’t get out of that?” I yelled from my room, while I tossed the bags onto my bed to be put away later. “Nope, and I’m not wearing this to church!” He let out a laugh. It’s humorous, but I remember when his Mom caught him wearing one of my diapers a few months ago. Last September, Cameron was wearing one of my diapers when he had to go back home. He figured it wasn’t a big deal; yet, his parents took him out clothes shopping directly after picking him up, and his Mom discovered his wet diaper under a pair of Arizona jeans he was trying on. First thing she did was send him to a psychotherapist then made him clean out his closet, in hopes of getting rid of anything he may have been hiding. Since then he hasn't brought another diaper home since. —-
  10. Among the sleep is one of the newest and best looking first person survival
  11. I started typing up this story a few weeks ago, and wanted to get this out since it's timely with Halloween coming up. I hope you like it. The follow story takes place in October 1999. _________ The Nightman Chapter 1
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    Horror Con

    From the album: My art

    A lil photo I did at the horror con. I love playing with photo editing,
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