Search the Community

Please note: this is an offshoot of “The Third Pillar”. This character is from Chapters 3 & 4 (leaves in 5), and this is a follow-up to his story. You do not necessarily need to read it to understand this one, but it’s recommended for the full effect. Sok Jeong had struggled through most of his childhood. Between his lack of height and difficulties focusing in school, he was an underwhelming student at best. In middle school, he had turned to bullying to have any sense of control in his life, but even that didn’t last long, as he was absorbed into an Amazon group of bullies and immediately rendered the runt. When he neared graduation from high school and had no real prospects in life, he turned to the Japok for employment. Japok was an underworld mafia that took in the outliers of society and gave them purpose. Their trade was dealing in the illegal, illicit, and otherwise questionable services. Given the technology of the city, there was a prominent theory that Japok had worked with the government to permit their activities to an agreeable degree, but no one with authority on the matter had ever corroborated this. In any case, Jeong was brought in at the age of 17 as a scout, of sorts. He would canvas areas, seek out individuals, and generally do the bidding of his superiors as needed. He was positively thrilled at this work when he was younger, but by 25, he had now realized he was just an errand boy and had made no progress in his career. All around him, others were buying flashy suits, top-of-the-line cars, going on luxurious vacations, and gaining more power and prestige. Mostly Amazons, of course. It was like school all over again. So when a foreign Little was asking around in his normal haunts for a way to Ma Joomi, where he had made many deliveries in the early part of his career, he had a spark of inspiration. Goryeoan society exalted kibun, and there was no greater display of it than taking in an Adopted. Any Goryeoan with an Adopted had respect and status instantly. This opportunity not only dropped in his lap, but it did so at the perfect time. He was having lunch with his branch’s boss and a few of his lieutenants the next day. They were restructuring a portion of business operations, and it would be Jeong’s job to communicate these changes; he was only there to listen. But with a good excuse, he could silently show off his ill-gotten status to his superiors. The lunch went better than he could have hoped for. With his toddler-dressed Little actor, he apologized profusely, bowing deeply to the men and explained that he was struggling to get a sitter for his newly Adopted. He had requested to allow him to play quietly in the corner, promising his ‘son’ was a good, quiet boy; he even had offered to put headphones on him so he wouldn’t hear anything, despite not understanding Goryeoan anyway. But Hyun Chul was happy for the Little to be there, even had him sit on his lap for the entire meal. In a flash, his life had improved, as he had seen with others who had Adopted. He had received a job outside of his normal routine, received a bigger kickback from said job, and heard that Yoon was arriving for a meeting at the headquarters. Yoon was considered the mother of Japok, also known as the Emonim. Her authority was second only to the big boss, and she was the tattoo artist whose work identified the senior members of the organization. A tattoo by Yoon solidified one’s status and authority across all branches. Her presence meant something big was happening. Upon arrival at the warehouse, the place was buzzing with activity. Some of it was from the workers doing their routine, but there was a heightened presence of those in suits with tattoos peeking out from under their sleeves. “Do you know what’s going on?” Nuen quietly asked Jeong as they neared the coffee station, immediately cleaning it up and brewing more for the Amazon bigwigs. He was another Tweener who had languished in the low ranks, and they had taken to commiserating at bars every few weeks over their status. “No,” Jeong both felt he was lying and not; he didn’t know, but he had his hopes that he was getting promoted. The restructure meeting updates had already been disseminated, so he didn’t think a summons made sense for that. Plus, business updates like that were better off sent through the grapevine than in a larger gathering of this kind. “Maybe there are some promotions?” “Maybe,” Nuen sighed as he wiped up the counter, clearly not anticipating that he would be included. “Dude, dude, look,” Jeong excitedly elbowed his colleague as he jutted his chin upwards to the walkway that led to Hyun’s office. Walking across, her heels clanging against the metal and echoing in the warehouse, was Yoon. She had long black hair that was braided at the top of her head like a faux mohawk. She wore a bright red leather jacket with a tech collar on the lining that shifted in colors according to the music she was listening to, and skin-tight black shirt and pants underneath. Her boots ran up to her knee, which were a gunmetal grey that had chains dangling from them. At her neck and wrists were hints of full-body tattoos, which was the rumor, though few could confirm it. As she approached Hyun’s office, her eyes turned down and the two Tweeners immediately looked at the floor; she grinned and entered Hyun’s office. “Hey,” a deep voice cut in, and the two jumped, spinning around to see the towering form of Zhang. He was a scarred Yamatoan who had defected to Goryeo; he had joined Japok only a year after Jeong, but had skyrocketed in the organization hierarchy. He had never been particularly kind or respectful to Tweeners. He sneered at them and stiffly gestured at the coffee machines. “Get back to work.” “Yes, sir,” the two said in unison as they bowed and immediately finished cleaning the station. They looked over their shoulders as they watched Zhang shake his head and walk away, heading for the stairs to Hyun’s office. They monitored and refueled the coffee station for about an hour as they bowed to superiors silently. Jeong tried listening to the chatter, but most seemed as out of the loop as he and Nuen were, which was moderately satisfying. But the warehouse fell silent as Hyun emerged from his office, and all eyes looked up to him. He was an imposing man, not as tall in stature as his presence would make you think, but he was physically large to compensate. He had a gut from overindulgence, but it sat over muscle that was more evidence in his arms, shoulders, and neck. Stepping out to his right emerged Yoon, and then Zhang to his right. “Gwa-so,” Hyun rumbled the equivalent of ‘okay’ as he took a heavy step forward, and he gestured down to a door on the first floor. “Now.” He didn’t even have to speak in full sentences to command the room. The warehouse workers knew it didn’t apply to them and immediately returned to their duties, while all the suited individuals made professional haste to the warehouse break room, which was large enough to host the gathered crowd. Quickly and quietly, all the suits shoved into the room and waited in silence. Meanwhile, the three leading this meeting took their time. Hyun arrived to the doorway first, but he stepped to the side and held his hand out for Yoon to walk in first; she accepted with a slight incline of her head. It felt like the air was sucked from the room as she confidently strode over to an empty desk, jumped up to sit on it, and crossed her legs. Hyun entered shortly thereafter, then finally Zhang, who closed the door. Hyun walked slowly and purposefully to the middle of the room while Zhang followed for only a few paces, then leaned against the back wall and crossed his arms over his chest, calling out, “Sok. Jeong.” Jeong blinked, frozen in the back of the room. There was something in his tone that made his blood run cold. A few heads near him turned to look at him, and people began to part ways for him. He swallowed as he briefly looked up, giving nods of appreciation as he took a few steps forward. He was able to pass a single, nervous look to Nuen before he emerged at the front of the crowd. Hyun pointedly looked at the ground in front of him, silently commanding him to separate from the crowd, and Jeong obeyed, giving a deep bow that he stayed in. “Sok has been with us for eight years,” Hyun announced to the crowd, giving no indication that Jeong could stand up. “And he thinks he deserves a promotion.” There were some nervous chuckles amongst some genuine ones; Jeong felt his throat tighten as he stared at the floor, his heart beginning to pound. “So much so that he tried to manufacture it.” For several seconds, Jeong forgot to breathe. Panic gripped his body, and he felt his hands turn cold and clammy within seconds. The room didn’t laugh this time. Two heavy footsteps brought Hyun’s immaculate shoes into view, and the heavy presence of the boss leaned in as he hissed lowly but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Didn’t you?” “Y-yes, sir,” Jeong admitted after a beat, feeling his knees begin to shake. He was toast, and he knew it. Lying now would only serve to dishonor him and Hyun even more than he already had. He heard a growl in response, and the shadow diminished as the boss stood up again, then made the jerking motion with his hand to stand from the bow. Jeong hesitated; he would have preferred not to look at anyone’s face, but he didn’t dare disobey a command. Standing up, he kept his head bowed and his eyes staring at the floor. Hyun nodded to Yoon, who lifted her hand and tapped her tech bracelet, then motioned to the projector in the ceiling; it flickered to life and projected an image of Hyun at a round table with the toddler-dressed foreigner in his lap. “This is a foreigner with a still-valid visa,” Yoon explained coolly as she leaned back on the desk, gently bouncing her crossed leg. She made another motion and a smattering of pictures of the blonde foreigner, dressed as a normal adult, from around the city with varying timestamps leading up to the lunch. The room broke out into mutterings, and Jeong heard the other lieutenants from that lunch hiss curses at him. “Do you have any idea what risk you put me in?!” Hyun raged, both the hot air and spit from his outburst smacking into Jeong’s face. Letting his shaking knees collapse, Jeong knelt on the ground, leaned forward, and placed his arms forward in the deepest bow possible. He burst into apologies, causing Hyun to bellow indistinctly in anger, and Jeong fell silent; he pressed his forehead into the floor and began silently begging for death. A shot to the head, a heart attack, a burst aneurysm… anything to end this. He couldn’t bear it. His entire body was weak with fright, and he felt so cold that he began to shiver. “Zhang,” Hyun hissed in irritation as he gestured to the Yamatoan, who pushed his foot off the wall and nodded. As the large Amazon moved towards Jeong, Hyun announced, “Jeong betrayed us. He lied to me, he disrespected us, and he abused kibun to try to manipulate me.” “Sounds pretty immature to me,” Zhang growled in delight, his voice suddenly very close. Letting in a sudden gasp as Jeong realized what that meant, he lifted his head in horror as adrenaline burst throughout his body. “N-no, please!” he turned to beg Hyun, but the massive Yamatoan immediately grabbed him by the throat, the impact causing him to lose his breath and voice. Yoon slipped off the desk and patted the surface of the desk; Zhang nodded as he stood up and dragged the Tweener over to the vacated desk surface. “But he is family,” Hyun continued coldly, suddenly much calmer as he slipped his hands into his pockets, raising his head as he looked down at Jeong. “And it is our duty to take care of him.” Jeong opened his mouth to plead, but the grip on his throat rendered him mute. Against his better judgment, he thrashed against Zhang, who quickly moved his hands into his armpits and lifted him onto the desk. He wasn’t thinking – he was in pure panic mode. He kicked, flailed, and grabbed at Zhang’s arm, horrified that he was about to be stripped down in front of all of his coworkers. As he regained his voice, he cried out again, “I’m sorry – PLEASE!” “My, my,” Yoon cooed sarcastically as she rounded to the back of the desk, her eyes darting over to Hyun. “Quite immature, isn’t he?” Jeong let out a gasp as her words struck him like a bucket of cold water, and his eyes filled with tears nearly instantly. Amongst the many rules to navigate in Goryeoan society, one’s reaction to the Adoption process was expected to be one of grace and acceptance. It was an honor to be Adopted. To do anything less not only disrespected the family who was practicing kibun, but the more they fought and rejected it, the more they exemplified their level of immaturity. Jeong knew this – he knew this, but everything had happened so suddenly… and now it was too late. He had fought, thrashed, and denied in front of everyone, and the malicious look on Zhang’s face confirmed it… If he had accepted this with grace and humility, he might have been given the status of a toddler with limited but some freedom. But he had just ruined that chance. “Zhang has graciously offered to officially take in Jeong as his Daddy,” Hyun continued to explain as the Yamatoan ripped off the Tweener’s pants, taking no care for the buttons or material, and followed up immediately with his boxers. Jeong broke out into a mournful sob as he felt his bottom half be completely exposed and brought his hands to cover his face, trying to muffle the noise he was making. From behind the desk, Yoon began pulling out all of the previously hidden materials, starting with a large diaper decorated with a baby elephant, powder, and a pacifier. Zhang pinned him down effortlessly on his chest, despite it not being necessary anymore. Yoon caressed Jeong’s wrist and pulled his hand away from Jeong’s face, giving him a mocking pouty expression as she pushed the pacifier into his mouth; he bit down on it and nodded in gratitude despite himself. She then set to work removing his watch and rings, then gave the nod to Zhang, who pulled Jeong up so she could remove his suit jacket. He closed his eyes to try as his hands were forced away from his face, tears streaming down. His hands began to shake as he reached up to his collar, wanting to show he would help them, but Zhang smacked his hands away – it was too late for that. Jeong was laid back down, and the button-down shirt was ripped open, causing buttons to fly every which way. He was going to be rendered fully nude before anything else was put on him. Jeong’s entire body shivered from the cold, fear, and humiliation, causing goosebumps to break out all over. “But he is all of our responsibility now,” Hyun continued as he glared around the room. This was as much a command as a warning. The room burst out in agreement and compliance, bowing their heads in acceptance. Yoon handed the diaper to Zhang, who chuckled as he stretched it out. “Look, it’s your favorite,” he snickered to Jeong, who took it as an order and opened his eyes, instantly regretting it; his pupils dilated as he saw the same diaper brand he had purchased for his “Adopted”. Zhang appeared satisified by this reaction and grabbed Jeong by his ankles while Yoon layered on the powder carelessly; Jeong let out a sob but kept his lips pressed tightly on the pacifier, doing his best to comply with expectations moving forward. He closed his eyes once more as his lower half was lowered onto the soft cushion of the open diaper, and grimaced as he felt Zhang pull it up between his legs and tape it around his waist within seconds. “That’s good for now,” Zhang chuckled as he patted the elephant image on the crotch of the diaper, and Jeong’s eyes opened in horror; he was going to be left in just a diaper! He looked to Yoon, who shrugged in response, then dropped the onesie she had in her hands back into the box. “P-pleashe… I’m cold,” Jeong begged behind the pacifier as he curled his legs up and arms in, gulping as he added, “D-daddy.” “Oh, all right,” Zhang feigned to relent and reached out, grabbing Jeong and lifting him into his arms, implying his body heat would be enough. “Better?” Unwilling to press his luck, he nodded and wrapped his arms around the massive Yamatoan in a hug, then planted his face down in the crook of his new Daddy’s neck. “Zhang will need our help,” Hyun reiterated to the room, making his position very clear. “I expect every single one of you to watch and care for Jeong as if he were your own. Any questions?” The room fell silent. “Good,” Hyun nodded and turned to Yoon, who inclined her head in approval. “Dismissed,” he added curtly, opened the door, and walked out. There was another long silence in the room as Jeong’s entire body shivered, and he closed his eyes as hard as possible, clenching his hands with fistfuls of Zhang’s suit jacket. Again, he silently begged for death. He didn’t think he could survive this… and then it got worse. Jeong gasped for air as he heard the first congratulations to his new Daddy, and then to him. In Goryeoan culture, it was traditional for family and friends to congratulate both the new parents and the new child. And he couldn’t sleep through it or ignore it without disrespecting the well-wishers and the parents. He had to face them and thank them. “Say thank you, baby,” his Daddy ordered, and Jeong weakly nodded, lifting his head and tearfully looking to the first of a long line of well-wishers. “Fhank you,” he whispered behind the pacifier as he bowed his head. This continued, and on, and on, until the last person stepped up … Nuen. The Tweener stepped forward as he kept his gaze glued to Zhang, his face drained of color, and his eyes filled with fear. Zhang seemed to recognize this as he let out a snort. Nuen swallowed and bowed deeply. “Congratulations, Mr. Zhang,” he monotoned, his voice quivering. “Thank you, Nuen,” the deep voice replied flatly. There was a pause as the Tweener remained bowed. “C-Congratulations … Zhang Jeong,” he squeaked out as he lifted his torso only slightly, not enough to make eye contact, and dipped back down again in hopes that it sufficed as a full bow. Jeong tensed up slightly as he, too, hoped to avoid looking at Nuen by keeping his eyes straight ahead, but neither were that lucky. “Now, now. He may be a baby, but you must still be polite, Nuen,” Zhang instructed firmly, a twitch at the corner of his mouth betraying his enjoyment of this. “Y-yes, sir,” the Tweener quivered as he straightened his back up and made eye contact. Jeong felt his heart leap into his throat, trying to clench his jaw, but the thickness of the pacifier teat didn’t let his back teeth fully touch. “Congratulations, Zhang Jeong,” Nuen blurted out as quickly as possible and then bowed deeply again. “Fhank you,” Jeong whispered in reply, and Zhang gave a sadistic chuckle as he patted his diaper, causing both Tweeners to cringe. “Well done,” the Yamatoan complimented condescendingly, waving his hand and allowing Nuen to flee, which he promptly did without another word or glance. Jeong didn’t blame him. “Congratulations, Zhang,” Yoon complimented, stepping in front of him as the final well-wisher. “Thank you, Emonim,” the Yamatoan replied sincerely, bowing so deeply that Jeong had to hug him to stay in place. Once back to his full height, she reached her hand out and grabbed the Tweener’s chin, staring him dead in the eye; he squirmed uncomfortably, but didn’t dare look away. “Congratulations, little one,” she purred, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips, but as he tried to thank her in return, she pressed her thumb forcefully against his pacifier. “You can thank me later. We have a ceremony to get to.”

Deep in the archives of the FBI's Vault of records are cold cases, of which less than half are public record. A small portion of that considered cold and unconfirmed. Amongst these records is a sealed bag of a hand-written note in red crayon and a larger than normal baby bottle, thus the aptly named cold case 'The Message in the Baby Bottle'. Records indicate this bottle was discovered on 5/13/20 by a riverboat casino in Arkansas, but the message within was contaminated by the citizen who found it, opened it, and read it. Still, lab records note organic debris that could be found as north as Iowa or Illinois, so is the estimated origin point. This case has only been picked up by two agents since it was brought to the FBI. The first agent dismissed it as a joke, prank, dare, or musings of a bored teenager in COVID lockdown, and the case was recently picked up for review, who has recently amended the report with her findings. EVIDENCE #2: The Crayon Scribbles Please help. My name is Jake Borden. Two years ago, I was a month from graduation ... I had no plans and I was fine with that. I just wanted to be free of school for a little bit before I worried about my next school. In that month, one day, everything seemed fine at home but when I got to school, my classes had been shifted around to junior level. I was pointed back to my classes from the year before, to sit with younger students, and act like it was normal. My friends didn't see it as a weird and I thought... it was so prank. Maybe every senior had to go through this in the last month before graduation. So I shrugged it off, enjoyed the easy classes, and went about the rest of my day. Then it happened again. The next day, I was told I was in the wrong classroom and pointed to my sophomore teachers. No one else was getting this treatment so I figured... okay, it's me. It's a prank against me and I decided to be cool about it. I took the easy classes, laughed it off, and said the next day, I'd be in freshman classes, which I was right. All day, I grinned, joked, and enjoyed the ride. I thought at the end of that school day, I'd get a 'surprise' and explanation... but that didn't happen. Nothing happened. The day ended, everyone went home for the weekend, and I hoped by Monday, I'd get my answer. But it got worse. The next day, rather than walking to school, my mom said the bus was ready for me. I hadn't taken the bus since 8th grade. I'll admit... I should have thrown a fit there. I should have asked more questions, tried to figure out what was going on... but I thought this must be an organized prank or lesson by my parents. They weren't happy I hadn't applied to any colleges and had no plans, and they were punishing me with some elaborate, organized prank with my old teachers. I was stubborn and thought I'd show them. I'd love these classes, enjoy my time, and not feel whatever they were hoping I'd feel. I took the bus, joked around with these young idiots, swept through all of my classes with ease, and did it all with a grin. But no one at home seemed to care or be bothered. I told my parents I had a great day in 8th grade and they acted like it was normal. My little sister Shannon was even much the same, which I was initially impressed she could hold it together. Then the next day was 7th grade. It was probably here I started getting nervous. How far was this going to go? Was I going to take the same classes the next day with my sister in 6th grade? I tried asking questions, but my parents seemed confused... like I had never been in 8th grade at all, let alone the day before. My phone also disappeared and that sent me into a panic. All of my life was in that thing and it was just gone. I had a huge meltdown and mom let me stay home from school that day (called me in sick to the middle school). I thought maybe that would be the end of it. They'd give me my phone back, prank done, lesson learned. Nope. Next day, 6th grade. No one could rationalize why I was in the same grade as my sister when I was 18 and she was 12. But my mom gave me the weirdest look and told me straight to my face "you're both 12". Dead serious, no hint of a joke. I tried demanding my phone back, I tried walking to school, but dad put his foot down. He dragged me back to the car and drove me to the middle school, since I had missed the bus, and scolded me the entire drive like I was 12. I don't know what I should have done differently. I acted out, I wrote "I'M 18" on the chalkboards, on any handouts I got.. eventually I was sent to the nurse, who cleared me, and then given detention for the next day. I was scolded again at dinner for 'being a brat'. But I never got that detention. By the next day... I was back in elementary school. 5th grade. I relived puberty lessons and talked as if I hadn't gone through it. I was surrounded by 'friends' that were children, all acting like I belonged there and it was normal. I was in 4th grade by Friday and no one was listening to me. Every day, I was reliving ... I think the movie is called Groundhog's Day but like... worse. I kept repeating myself, having to explain to everyone that I was 18, I should be graduating high school this month, and I didn't belong in any of these classes. The reactions went from annoyed to concerned, and then when I really hit the lower grades, to mild amusement. Like I was some fucking kid making up a story to the adults. All weekend, having finished 4th grade on friday, I tried begging my parents to stop the lesson. I'd learned, I'd apply to college, I'd do whatever they want. I just wanted my life back. They laughed. They fucking laughed and said I had a ways to go before worrying about college. My bedtime was stupid early... earlier than my sister's and my bedroom was changing too. I had my older toys, bedsheets, pajamas... and no one acted like anything was wrong. All of my accounts were gone... I didn't have email anymore, no laptop, no way to reach out to my friends. So I biked to my closest friends house, Brad. When I got there, his mom acted like she didn't recognize me and when he came to the front door, he didn't either. He treated me like some kind of confused kid and when he got tired of my story, he shut the door in my face. My bike was chained up after that. I was 'bothering the neighbors' and grounded. Monday, third grade. Tuesday, second. Wednesday, first. Thursday, kindergarten. No one would listen to me. No one believed me. On Friday, I went to preschool and sat amongst a range of kids in pull ups, ate finger food, and every time I did anything that wasn't exactly obedient, I was 'throwing a tantrum'. I couldn't say anything that wasn't thrown in my face. Everyone was talking down to me... even my little sister. Everyone acted like I was a small child. Then on Monday... I woke up in a diaper, in a crib. My bedroom was now an oversized baby room. I had footie pajamas on, pacifiers everywhere, baby toys and baby decorations. There were no signs of my older life. I flipped out. I ripped the diaper off and started wrecking everything I could but dad quickly came in and held me down, like he was used to this. Mom came in and fixed everything she could. They were like.. experts at work. He put me up on the changing table and mom put me back in a diaper. I screamed. I cursed. I tried to kick, bite... but dad thwarted every attempt. I said every awful, hateful thing I could think of but none of it was landing for them. They acted like I was just... in a bad mood. They didn't even flinch at the swears, like I wasn't even saying them. I cried. I couldn't fight anymore and I bawled my eyes out, and that's when mom hugged me. She was so gentle, so sweet, and ... I feel asleep in her arms. That night, I fucking begged every god I could think of. I wanted out. I wanted this to stop. Was I going to keep reducing in age until I didn't exist anymore? I prayed, I cried, I begged. I asked over and over again for hours in my crib for it to stop. I said I'd do anything to make this stop. A week went by, and nothing changed. I didn't get treated older but I didn't blink out of existence. My life was now this. Diapers, bottles, naptime... repeat. It's been two years of this. No one understands me, and writing doesn't work. I can see what I wrote and I can see the words, but everyone else seems to see scribbles. I've noticed that most of my words seemed to be ignored except baby-like ones. Mom responds to 'mommy', same with dad, but not 'mom' or 'dad'. Shannon is 'sissy', bottles are 'ba-ba's, if I need a change and mom hasn't noticed, it's 'diapee'. I can't get out of this. Nothing I do works. None of my friends recognize me or acknowledge me. None of my teachers recognize me. Everyone talks to me like I'm some big baby. I'm stuck like this. I sometimes worry I shouldn't have asked for it to stop. I should have asked to have my old life back. I worry I asked for the process to stop too soon, and now I'm stuck. I don't know... I don't know how or why this happened. But if you can read this... like actually read this... Please fucking help me. CASE AMENDMENT 1.0 by Agent Catherine Green 10/18/25 Given the context clues of this note, I was able to track down a Jake Borden in Davenport, Iowa. Ahead of making contact with the family, I confirmed a sister named Shannon and a teenager that graduated in 2018 within reasonable biking distance of the Borden household named Brad. Mother is Courtney Borden, and father is Oscar Borden. I brought both the bottle and message to my interview, though over the phone I was met with a curious tone when asking if I could speak with Jake. When I arrived, it was clear why. As the message suggests, Jake is an adult in physique, but was dressed in an adult onesie and diaper. He was using a pacifier throughout the entire interview, though he did made attempts to remove it and speak throughout the process, it was incoherent baby-like babbling. Courtney and Oscar explained that Jake had a rare, yet unnamed genetic condition that renders his mind stuck as an infant, despite his body growing. They had no pictures or evidence of any schooling, which I can confirm in my research that there are no records of Jake Borden ever attending any schools. To the contrary, they had photos of him throughout the his 25 years of life, always in diapers. More strangely, when I showed the parents the note, they could not read it. They only saw red crayon scribbles. They confirmed they recognized the bottle as one they lost years ago, and apologized profusely for what they perceived as a waste of my time. I had no choice but to leave, though I will admit as I was leaving, I could have sworn I saw a look of despair from Jake. CASE AMENDMENT 1.1 by Agent Catherine Green 0/25/25 I looked into the genetic condition, as I couldn't shake that look on Jake's face when I left. Suspecting his parents were perhaps exhibiting some kind of Munchausen's by Proxy, I dug around to see what other instances I could find, and discovered the previous agent assigned to this case, whose name I can see on the paperwork, has this condition. But there is no record of him working here. I have come to realize this case has been left alone because most people cannot be the note. Like Courtney and Oscar Borden, this message is incoherent crayon scribbles to everyone I show it to. Additionally, I have noticed my colleagues have been treating me differently with each passing day. As if I am less experienced than the day before. Though I know this sounds completely foreign to assert as an experience Special Agent, I believe I may be experiencing a similar daily regression as Jake had. If this is true, I have days before my clearance is reduced and I can no longer access this file, and only a few more days beyond that before I will no longer be working here. Since this all began the moment I read this file and Jake's message, I must concluded I have been afflicted by it... somehow. I am marking this case as TOXIC and SUPERNATURAL, and recommending it to be sealed permanently. If you are reading this, I have likely failed to do so, and if you can read Jake's message... then I wish you good luck.

Xilang Airport, Yamatoa As a sleek black car pulled up behind another, airport security staff stepped forward and opened the rear side doors simultaneously and each bowed to the individuals before they were even exiting. From the first car stepped out a man dressed in a sleek, grey suit, white shirt, and black tie. He had short, neatly trimmed black hair, and his dark brown inset eyes were hidden by the large lensed black glasses. He was of moderate height for an amazon, but of tough build; his shoulders and biceps were pushing against even the thick suit’s jacket. He turned towards the car, reaching a hand out to offer, which the woman inside quickly took. Emerging from within was a woman of equal fashion senses. A form fitted black suit with a skirt, but a light pink button down underneath which was left open at the top to show off the golden chained necklace with a jadeite circular pendant. She too, like many in Yamatoa, sported jet black hair that she kept trimmed to the bottom of her neck, which suited her oval face. She briefly smiled to her husband as she adjusted a diaper bag strap over her shoulder, but as she looked back to the car behind them, she scowled, “Why are they here?” From the second car arrived a husband and wife as well, though extremely different in appearance and countenance. The husband was short, though well with reasonable range, was greying at the sides of his black hair, which was also thinning on top. He was portly at the stomach, but it wasn’t too noticeable due to his dress; he wore old, yamatoan traditional clothing, which was loose and flowing. The pants were black and wide all the way down, he wore an off white collared shirt with traditional closures, and a light weight overcoat that was also quite roomy. He smiled to the couple staring and waved, showing his friendly features, as he offered his hand to his wife. Like her husband, she wore traditional clothing, which was likewise flowing and lightweight, though hers cinched at the waist with a beautiful belt decorated to resemble a flowing river. She was adorned in pastels at the shoulders that grew bolder towards her feet, which were covered by the many skirts. Her hair too was greying, but she incorporated it into her hairstyle, which was up in various buns, accented purposefully by the greying. She was void of jewelry, though carried an old bamboo basket on her right forearm. “Mr. Okira,” the first man stiffly greeted upon approach, the couple bowing modestly. “Ah, it is a pleasure, Mr. And Mrs. Shozen,” Mr. Okira smiled and greeted them both, as he and his wife bowed much deeper. “I deeply apologize for wasting your time,” Mr. Shozen began as he stood up, his wife having difficulty suppressing a sneering grin at them. “But we were called to handle this.” “Oh,” Mr. Okira smiled, trying to sound surprised but failing to do so. He turned to his wife and she nodded, pulling a cellphone from her river belt, and presented the screen with a bow of her head. Her husband gestured to it as the Shozens leaned forward. “We are here to join. We have been asked to take care of one of the two aboard.” This time it was Mr. Shozen who was unable to hide his scowl as he scanned the contents of the email. His eyes flickered to the pair of the opposing couple and stood up, adjusting his tie and nodded curtly. He replied both sincerely and not, “I look forward to the comparison.” He gave a brief, even worse in depth, bow than his greeting and began walking into the airport. His wife gave a curt nod in place of a bow, her hand gripping white knuckled on the diaper bag strap as she nearly broke out into a run to catch up to her husband, but the Okiras bowed as deeply as before. When there was enough distance, they stood up and shared a knowing look. “I don’t think they like us,” Mrs. Okira chuckled quietly, which her husband laughed in agreement and the pair made their way into the airport. Flight 1031 Anna sighed as she tossed the paper towel into the small receptacle in the cramped airplane bathroom, which had been quite difficult for her to navigate. Despite the Airline’s advertising that promised Little-accommodations, they had not delivered on those expectations. They had considered a booster seat enough, though she did have to admit, it was comfortable. But the bathroom was not at all designed for someone of her stature, and thus what should have been a quick break had turned into an ordeal. Her eyes flickered up to the changing table at the far wall, which gave her a shudder, and she unlocked the door. Stepping out, she saw a line of Amazons who ranged from looking worried to irritated; she cleared her throat. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she quickened her pace to pass them, doing her best to ignore the mutterings as she maneuvered towards her seat. In a row of three, the Amazon man in the aisle seat nodded to her as he stood up to let her in and she looked up to her brother who reached out a hand. “Did you fall in?” He joked as he pulled her up; she shot him a glare. “Shut up,” she snapped as she plopped into the booster seat. He snickered, shaking his head as she tried to indicate she didn’t want the amazon hearing, but George looked back down at his phone. “The flight attendant stopped by,” he declared in a bored tone. “Said she’ll come back when you were back.” “Why?” Anna asked nervously, her eyes looking around the plane suddenly. “Dunno,” he shrugged as he returned to chopping fruit. Anna clenched her jaw, deciding best not to chide him with her usual ‘you’re useless’ complaints, for obvious reasons. She pulled out her phone, intending to use it to distract herself from her nervous, but she couldn’t even unlock it. She looked briefly up to the amazon who was reading from a book (Mark, she thought he said his name was), and everyone else within visual range was likewise invested in their own entertainment options. Glancing to the paperwork stuffed in the left pocket of the booster seat, she plucked it out and fanned through it once more, making sure every piece was still there. They were flying to Suomi in Europa where they had an aunt who was willing to help them get on their feet, and she was obsessing over each piece, worried they had left something behind. Suomi had strict regulations and burden of proof for the diagnosis of maturosis, and was quickly being considered a safe haven for Littles. The trouble was just getting there (and staying there). “Anna? George?” The flight attendant smiled as she leaned forward, adding a “sorry, sir” to Mark who nodded, angling his body towards the aisle to give her space. “Yes?” Anna pulled the paperwork to her chest, looking to the large woman. George took the few extra seconds to pause his game before looking up. “I wanted to tell you first,” she cleared her throat, clearly nervous; Anna shifted uncomfortably. “Before the captain makes the announcement… that … uh, well… we have to make an emergency landing.” Mark lifted his eyebrows as he lifted his eyes from his book to look to the flight attendant. Anna swallowed and George nodded. The flight attendant took in a quick breath and added, “In Yamatoa.” Anna instantly felt the color drain from her face. “I know — I’m sorry,” she replied hastily, putting her hands up, clearly able to read their expressions. “But we have no choice. A spo —“ “You can’t!” Anna interrupted as her heart began to race and she looked to George, who looked likewise in shock. “You can’t — you know what they’ll do to us!” “Please, keep your voice,” she put a hand up nervously, biting her lower lip as she looked around. “Yes, and we will be fully refunding your tickets. This is not the experience we —“ “How is the money going to help us if we’re —“ Anna began to hiss, but she couldn’t even finish the sentence. The flight attendant put a hand on her chest, clearly sympathetic, though she also appeared more nervous they were going to make a scene. ”The estimated time for repair is two to three hours,” she nervously explained, lowering her own voice in hopes the two would follow. “We’ve been told you can stay on the plane, and we will make sure you are … returned … to your normal state as soon as we leave.” Before anyone could say another word, there was the telltale ding sound of an incoming announcement. The flight attendant gave an apologetic look and stepped away to join the others in their positions, at the ready for this news. Mark flashed Anna a frown, but she didn’t notice; her face was pale but for the emerging red in her cheeks and she turned to face George, who still seemed in shock. “This is your captain speaking. I apologize for the inconvenience is this going to cause, but we had a spoiler fail to fully retract which has been causing excess drag and draining our fuel. Unless we refuel and fix the issue, we won’t be able to make it to our destination. We will be landing in 20 minutes at Xilang Airport in Yamatoa. Air traffic control has cleared all passengers to disembark and enjoy the airport’s amenities as we assess and repair. Please prepare for around a three hour layover. Please ask any questions of the flight attendants.” The announcement was clear and precise in its delivery, and as soon as it was done, the volume of the plane spiked. The flight attendants began working their way through the aisles to answer questions, apologizing profusely and explaining the issue over and over again. “Go to the bathroom,” Anna ordered George as she snapped in front of his face to pull him from the shock. “Now. They’re going to put us in diapers and we need to empty. Go.” George nodded as fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the ground and grabbed it, nervously waving to Mark as he slipped by him and headed to the back of the plane. Anna put her face in her hands, trying hard not to cry; that would be the exact opposite of what she needed right now. She clenched her teeth, trying to focus on a solution. If the flight attendant was honest, which Anna doubted, they just needed to survive three hours of diapers and babying. Three hours… “Do you, uh,” Mark began uncomfortably as he cleared his throat. “Do you want company during this … layover?” Anna blinked as she looked up to the man, whose eyes flickered between the book and her. While his body language was uncomfortable, she couldn’t tell why; was he being opportunistic, and trying to hide his giddiness? That was the only reasonable explanation. No amazon would be nervous at the prospect of babying Littles. She sniffed and shook her head no, folding up the papers and stuffing them deep into the booster seat’s pocket. “Well, if you do, I can —“ “We’re fine,” Anna snapped as she fiddled with her phone, realizing she should inform their aunt of this update. Perhaps she could do something on her end, should this go sour. The next 20 minutes flew by. Frantic and desperate to prepare, Anna furiously researched what she could about Yamatoa technology, practices, and went to the bathroom one more time. Though every Little knew about Yamatoa, knowing and knowing were different things. George likewise tried to do some research, though he focused on ‘how to combat hypnosis’, ‘how to taste for laxatives’, and ‘things to concentrate on while holding it’. The two stared out the window in terror for the remaining few minutes as the ground of Yamatoa grew larger and closer. They both took in a sharp breath as the wheels of the plane hit the ground hard and bounced once. The plane engines roared in defiance of the momentum, quickly slowing the plane down to a more modest driving speed. Once docked, the sound of clicking belts flooded the plane as amazons stood up, stretched, and some even eager to check out the airport. George and Anna held hands nervously, leaving themselves clicked into the seat. As the plane emptied, Mark stretched out as gestured towards the front of the plane, looking at the pair again. “You’re sure?” he offered one last time and Anna nodded. He hesitated but nodded in return and left the plane. “What was that about?” George whispered. “I think he wanted to daddy us while we were diapered,” she hissed quietly, squeezing his hand. “And make it seem like a favor.” They sat silently on the plane for a few minutes, all of the rows empty save for the flight attendants moving through the aisles and taking the opportunity to clean up. Smiles were flashed their way, which they returned, but no words were exchanged. Neither George nor Anna wanted to risk getting their phones which they had stuffed in between the seats, fearful they’d be confiscated. After a long, painful, nerve-wrecking few minutes, five figures at the front of the plane emerged and began their way down the aisle towards them. The pair swallowed. At the front was an europan man, dressed in a captain’s uniform… and the four following him were all yamatoan, in pairs, dressed very distinctly from each other. The captain flashed an ingenuine smile as he placed his hand on the back of Mark’s chair. “Anna. George,” he greeted with a stiff nod of his head to them. “These are representatives of Yamatoa, here to take care of you during your time here. This is Mr. and Mrs. Shozen,” he gestured to the couple at the front, in suits, who had serious looks upon their faces, but flashed smiles and barely nodded. “And behind them are Mr. and Mrs. Okira,” he introduced as he motioned his hand behind to the older couple who bowed slightly. “Hi,” George managed to push out as he nodded to the paired couples. Anna was frozen, staring at the out-of-place looking strap around Mrs. Shozen’s shoulder. “Hello, Georgie,” Mrs. Shozen said in a sickeningly sweet tone and a heavy accent, stepping closer to the captain to reveal her full body to them, her diaper bag very visible. “We will take care of you today.” “We don’t want to be split up,” Anna blurted out quickly, her eyes looking between the couples, then desperately to the captain, who held a firm expression. “We’re siblings. We – we’re sticking together.” Everyone chuckled like she was being precocious. Her face hardened as she glared at the captain. “We were told we didn’t have to leave the plane,” she spat and he frowned, his eyes flickering nervously to the yamatoans. “That was a mistake,” he replied stiffly, his hands gripping onto the top of the chair. “Everyone is to be off the plane for repairs. Now come on – George, you first,” he ordered harshly, but Mr. Shozen put a hand up. “It is okay, captain,” the suited man excused, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “We are accustomed to this.” “Come, Georgie,” Mrs. Shozen coaxed, putting her hand out for him. “We have a lot of fun planned.” “Oh, goodie,” George grumbled as he reached for the belt with his one free hand and Anna snapped to look at him. “What are you do –” she squeaked as he began trying to shake his hand free her vice-like grip on his. “Anna, just –” he groaned as his sweaty hand pulled free and he jumped onto the ground. Looking up at her, he frowned and gave an exaggerated shrug. “This is happening. We can’t stop it. And I’d rather walk than be dragged, okay?” Anna stared in shock as her brother broke eye contact, a look of shame washing over his face as he proceeded forward. She felt compelled to scream, even opening her mouth to do so, but nothing came. She watched in silent horror as her brother took the extended hand, and Mrs. Shozen grinned maliciously. Mr. Shozen turned to the older couple, saying something in a haughty tone in yamatoan. “Such a good boy,” Mrs. Shozen purred as she ran her fingers through his reddish brown hair with her other hand then scooped him up into her arms. They began making all haste off the plane and Anna finally found the will to scream, just as she lost sight of George. “GEORGE!!” she shrieked as she grabbed onto the belt of the booster seat firmly, wanting to cement herself in this position as long as possible. “Anna,” the captain said in a threatening tone, akin to that of a disappointed and embarrassed father. But the older man gently waved off the captain as his wife rounded the seats and sat in Mark’s chair. Anna leaned away from her as best she could. “If you don’t mind, captain, we would like some privacy,” Mr. Okira requested humbly, dropping his head and the top half of his body in a bow. “Of course,” the captained nodded, flashing a warn look to Anna, and he began making his way towards the front of the plane. Anna stared at the front next to her, breathing very loudly. “I am sorry for mistakes,” she spoke softly, with a harsh accent, as she set her wicker-style basket on the ground. “This must be very scary.” Anna opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Yes, this was horrible and frightening, a nightmare scenario for any Little. But to admit that to an amazon, let alone a yamatoan, that something was “scary” seemed like a trap. “I am Nari Okira, or Mrs. Okira,” she introduced herself, placing a hand gently on her chest, then to the man. “This is my husband, Kaito Okira, or Mr. Okira.” Anna nodded to them, knowing better than to ignore or defiantly disregard an amazon who was being polite, especially in Yamatoa. She had read that politeness was held in supreme regard, and the fastest way to get a yamatoan to diaper you (outside of Yamatoa, of course) was to be rude to them. When the woman paused, Anna swallowed and bowed her head. “It’s… g-good to meet you,” she stammered, seeing glowing looks of approval as she raised her head back up. “My husband and I have requested this work many times,” she started to explain patiently, slow to speak and pausing between some words as she recalled the translation. “We wish to make experience … calm. Nice.” Again, the woman paused. Anna looked between the two, desperately trying to figure out what was going on; she swallowed hard and nodded to indicate she understood, but wasn’t sure what kind of response the woman was looking for. When the Mrs. Okira didn’t move to speak, Anna grew uncomfortable in the lengthening silence and took in a breath. “Like… you want me to … enjoy this?” Anna asked quietly. “Yes,” Mrs. Okira nodded in approval, glad she understood. “No,” Anna responded firmly and resolutely, shaking her head. “I won’t.” “We understand,” Mr. Okira spoke up, nodding knowingly (though how could he) as he grabbed the edge of his outer jacket. “Still. We want to try.” Mrs. Okira leaned down and opened the basket. Anna leaned forward a bit to look, wincing as she saw two folded up diapers and recoiled in the seat. The woman dipped her hand into the basket and pulled out a small pouch made from tied up fabric. She brought it to her nose and took in a large sniff, then held it up for her husband, who did the same. Then, she held it out for Anna to sniff. Again, too nervous to decline at the perception of being rude, she leaned forward and took a very small sniff. It smelled like potpourri; a mix of eucalyptus and spearmint… relaxing scents. A bit strong, perhaps, but pleasant. Mrs. Okira put the bag in her lap and repeated the process with a different bag, sniffing herself first, then to her husband, then to Anna. This one was lavendar, chamomile, and some rose. Finally, a third, which was cinnamon, clove, and vanilla. “Which do you prefer?” Mrs. Okira asked gently. Anna swallowed and pointed to the third one, causing the yamatoan to smile widely. “This is our favorite, too.” She placed the other two back in the basket and held out the third one for Anna to hold, but she didn’t move. She stared at the bag, trying to think to the quick research she did while they were landing. None of this was clicking. She didn’t recall reading anything about yamatoans using fragrances in this way – usually fragrances were put into things to masquerade a laxative or other poison. “Would you like me to put it in something else?” Mrs. Okira asked as she lifted a small, stuffed elephant from the bag. “We can put the scents in his belly.” Anna snatched the bag immediately. If she had a choice between a scented bag might cause her problems, or a stuffed animal that would do the same, she preferred the less child-like option. Mr. Okira chuckled quietly and nodded in approval. His wife placed the elephant back in the basket and closed the lid. “Now, Anna,” she began as she shifted her body to face Anna more. “We must leave this plane. They will not start repairs until we do.” Anna clenched her jaw; that sounded about right. It was highly unlikely that part was necessary, but here in Yamatoa, the airline crew had to obey the local stipulations. Forcing everyone to disembark was probably some law they made to force Littles out into the open. She had a surge of stubbornness that locked her movements; she didn’t shake her head no, or speak, but thought to mimic shock to avoid seeming petulant. “That means more time with Shozen family for your brother,” Mr. Okira added with a sigh, his eyes looking down the aisle towards the front where they had carried George away. Anna closed her eyes and held her breath; it was a valid pressure point. He had sucked it up and moved this along, and it would have been unfair of her to draw this out in return. Letting out a defeated size, she nodded and clicked the belt off. “Very good,” Mrs. Okira nodded as she stood up, her husband moving down the aisle to give her room, and she held her hand out. “Can I … walk?” Anna asked as she landed her feet on the floor, looking at the offered hand. She then thought to add, “Please.” “Yes,” Mrs. Okira smiled. Anna blushed when she felt how warm the woman’s hand was, especially compared to her cold and clammy one. Mrs. Okira held onto Anna’s handle gently and began walking down the aisle with her, her husband following them from behind. At the front of the plane, one flight attendant remained who smiled nervously at the yamatoans and reported an ‘all clear’ once they passed her. Anna froze at the threshold of the plane to the walkway, where the captain was beyond the plane, speaking with an airport employee. Mrs. Okira squeezed her hand warmly and as she looked up to the woman, she made a movement of pointing to Anna’s other hand, then her own nose. “If you feel nervous, smell.” Anna nodded, pulling the bag up to her face took in a large whiff. It was very pleasant. It didn’t resolve her nerves, or magically made the stress of the situation go away, but it shifted her senses enough to give her the strength to move her feet again. Stepping over the threshold, the yamatoan worker gave a wide smile to her but continued speaking with the captain about the repairs; the captain’s eyes flashed between the discussion and Anna, giving her only an approving nod. The three walked down the lonely, makeshift hall, the distant sounds of the airport growing louder with every couple of steps. Mrs. Okira looked over her shoulder to her husband and spoke up in yamatoan, seeming to ask him something. He replied with confidence and Anna looked to him; he pointed to the right, made a comment, then to the left and made a few comments. Mrs. Okira murmured to her husband in Yamatoan, then nodded and indicated the left. They fell silent again until they entered the airport proper. The place was quite bustling. It was a sea of yamatoans, peppered with a few tourists here and there. Most were dressed modernly, so not only did the Okiras draw looks from their traditional dress, but then eyes fell to Anna naturally. Some appeared surprised, gazing at her outfit and eyes lingering at her diaperless bottom. Others seemed to connect the dots, nodded, and flashed her a smile. But a fair few looked disapproving at her, showing their judgment of her current state. She didn’t realize how hard she was holding onto Mrs. Okira’s hand or the potpourri bag, which was she desperately sniffing to keep her sense occupied by something other than raw fear. Once beyond the exit and seating area, Mr. Okira explained something to his wife and then walked off towards the right. Mrs. Okira looked down to Anna as she gestured towards a bathroom. “Let’s get you changed, Anna,” she offered as a suggestion, but they both knew it wasn’t. Anna nodded stiffly, her body tensing up and her eyes beginning to fill with tears. This was the threshold. Once she was put in that diaper, she had no guarantee of ever being out of one again. The airline staff had already lied to her several times, so she couldn’t count on their cooperation once these three hours were over. For all she knew, they had arranged this because some staff member or passenger wanted to adopt. She felt her knees begin to shake with every step towards the bathroom, with a clear, language-less sign indicating a baby on a changing table. She wanted to burst out into tears, but she struggled against that inclination as well. Crying in public was a surefire way to be taken… then again, that wasn’t really a risk anymore, was it? Right in front of the door, Anna’s feet planted on the ground and a few silent tears fell down her face as she stared at the sign. Mrs. Okira looked down at her, and gasped when she saw the tears. Stepping off to the side, she kneeled down to Anna and manually wiped away her tears with her sleeve, while opening the basket. “Oh, Anna, it is just clothing,” Mrs. Okira tried to comfort her as she pulled out a handkerchief. Anna’s shoulders began to shake as she shook her head, wanting desperately to explain these weren’t just clothes, but fear and panic were seizing her words. “P-please,” she managed to stammer out, grabbing a hold of the woman’s massive sleeve as she looked straight into her eyes. Anna knew it was absurd to ask her for help. Deep down, she knew she should have just made hell on the plane and made this difficult for everyone. Yet, this couple was being uncharacteristically nice for what she had read about Yamatoans, and there was a sense of … guilt, perhaps, at the idea of being cruel to them. Mrs. Okira gave her a long look, seemingly assessing what she was asking and considering the possibilities – at least, it was what Anna had hoped was happening. The yamatoan let out a small sigh as she gently blotted the handkerchief on Anna’s face. “I have idea,” the older women smiled gently as she cleaned up Anna’s face. “But you will have to trust me.” Anna felt her heart skip a beat; trust a yamatoan? Trust an amazon sent to baby her? That was a large ask … but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. Either she trusted this woman to at least try to help her in some way, or she fought against this fruitlessly on the home turf of Little Hell, and who knows what would happen as a consequence. She had to accept that, for whatever reason, she had gotten lucky with this kind couple and she couldn’t risk being handed off to someone worse. Oh George, Anna thought as guilt swarmed her, wondering how he was faring. She had to imagine he was already dolled up, given the pace the Shozens seemed to be aiming for. Closing her eyes as the handkerchief was wiped once more against her eyes, she drew the potpourri to her face and gave a single nod. “Thank you,” Mrs. Okira smiled as she closed the lid of the basket again and, not letting Anna root herself again, she slipped her hands under the woman’s arms and lifted her up. Anna flinched, instinctually moving to fight this, but clenched her jaw; Trust, trust, she repeated to herself, closing her eyes tightly as she heard them enter the bathroom. Opening her eyes to the sound of the changing table coming down, Anna watched as Mrs. Okira put her basket down and brought out a cloth pad. She was skillfully managing the set up with access to only one hand, which was not surprising. She pulled out a cloth bag and set it to the side. “That is for old clothes,” the yamatoan explained and pulled out two bottles of oil. She used her thumb to screw off the tops and again, sniffed first, then let Anna do the same. Similar to the potpourri, the oils were infused with relaxing elements and Anna, understanding she had a choice, pointed to the eucalyptus oil. “What’s it for?” she asked both curiously and nervously, having never encountered oil in the lists of things to avoid for Littles. “Massage,” the woman smiled as she put away the other bottle. She set Anna down on the changing pad, lifting her sleeve up and laid down a line of the oil on her forearm. Anna blinked, looking between the arm and her face; this woman was going to a lot of trouble to prove her stuff was safe. Mrs. Okira rubbed the oil into her forearm gently, making a few massaging movements. They shared a look, as if the yamatoan was asking if Anna was ready, and after a beat, she nodded. Mrs. Okira began with her shoes, being slow and respectful. She began to sing a song in yamatoan, smiling to herself at the words, and placed the shoes in the clothe bag first. Then the socks. Anna blushed, having not been undressed by anyone since she was young, or … she swallowed, unable to think of any sexual encounters given the circumstances. Before moving onto her pants, the yamatoan put some oil on her fingers and began rubbing Anna’s feet with it; she couldn’t help but laid down on her back and let out a content moan. The pressure was perfect. Amazon strength could make something like this hurt, but the woman seemed skilled at knowing how to put just enough pressure on to feel good. A wave of relaxation traveled throughout her body and she closed her eyes, letting the smell of eucalyptus overtake her senses while her body felt like it was melting. When her feet were released and Mrs. Okira began removing her pants, she felt a flush of anxiety rush over her, though she noticed a tickling sensation her in her feet now. Wiggling her toes, Anna frowned; it didn’t feel bad, but she was suddenly worried. “It … tingles,” she said as she watched her pants be delicately folded and placed in the cloth bag, grateful Mrs. Okira had picked the changing table farthest from the door (because of course there were multiple, and of course there were no privacy walls). “Yes,” Mrs. Okira nodded knowingly as she warmed more oil between her hands. “Oil of clove, very small amount, makes for warming of the skin. May tingle, but it will fade.” Without letting Anna process or comment on that, she began to massage Anna’s legs and yet again, a happy moan leaked out of her lips. Her felt the fingers pressing and pinching (though in a good way) her calves and thighs, then would return to her feet, then back up again. When the rubbing stopped, Anna let out a content sigh, though the relaxed feeling cut short when she heard the diaper crinkle. Mrs. Okira took out a plain white disposable diaper that she folded lengthwise, all while humming a tune. Anne felt the tingling in her legs trying its best to maintain some resemblance of a relaxed state, but her upper body was seizing and her jaw clenching. The yamatoan set the diaper down as she had a thought, reaching her hand into the basket and took out a ring, handing it to Anna. “You can bite, if you like,” she explained as Anna took the ring with her left hand, remembering the potpourri in her right and sniffed it. Her eyes darted to the ring, feeling it was made of rubber. “It will be easier on your teeth,” she added. Anna grimaced and simply held onto the ring, unwilling to bite onto a teething toy at first – but as her underwear was slid off and she was now completely exposed from the waist down, she swallowed her pride and bit into the ring, closing her eyes. She felt her lower half being lifted and lowered, what might have been rubbing of diaper cream (hard to tell with the tingling), then she smelled the powder, and finally she felt the diaper fold up the front, tapped, and now hugging her closely. Her jaw received a firm workout from this as she bit harder than she ever had before, her brain even flashing an image of her biting a section of the ring off. She felt a gentle pat between her legs and her face turned red, her eyes opening to the same warm smile of the yamatoan. She moved her legs a bit, surprised at how comfortable she felt; she had always imagined a diaper as a bulky, thick pressure forcing her legs outward. Mrs. Okira continued the process, removing Anna’s shirt and bra, folding them gently and placing them into the bag, and massaged her with the oil. She was gentle and thorough, applying pressing in areas where muscles were most tense, even speaking some words in yamatoan when she found some muscle knots in her shoulders. She gently turned Anna onto her stomach and did the same for her back, which was the highlight of the entire thing, as she incorporated the legs and feet again. This was so incredibly effective that Anna believed she fell asleep for a minute or so, but it was hard to tell; the entire massage was like a dream, where time both did and did not exist. By the end, Anna’s entire body was warm and tingling, and her body was shockingly relaxed. Turned back onto her back, the ring and oil were placed back into her bag and she drew out a simple, plain white onesie. Relaxed and ready not to be nude from the waist up (though she only really registered that once she saw the onesie), Anna didn’t resist; Mrs. Okira moved her arms and legs around as need, snapping the onesie in place, then she pulled out a blanket. She shimmied the blanket underneath Anna and then pulled her up into her arms; Anna grabbed at the end of the blanket, pulling it up over her to hide her body, and adjusted in the woman’s arms, blinking in surprise at how quickly she had cleaned up and packed everything away. “You are doing so well,” the yamatoan purred proudly, lifting the last thing on the table, Anna’s bag of clothes, showing it to her and setting it inside the basket. Flipping the lid closed, she hoisted it back on her arm and moved to leave – but she paused halfway out and looked to Anna. “Do you want to walk?” “No,” Anna replied quietly as she looked down, having no shoes or socks on, and unsure if she’d have the quintessential waddle. Plus, the blanket was acting like a shield, hiding her diaper from others, so she had some illusion of privacy. When the yamatoan didn’t immediately begin walking, Anna recalled the priority her culture put on politeness, so she added, “Thank you.” Back out into the airport, Anna leaned against Mrs. Okira, her body still quite relaxed from the massage and the tingling mostly gone, but her skin still cozy warm. Resting her head on the woman’s shoulder, she began observing the area. There were decorations hung of red and gold in images of dragons, the sun, and flowers. Many people were wearing clothes with red and gold in them, and she wondered if it was a holiday. She recognized Mr. Okira, standing out due to his attire, beaming as he approached them. The couple shared a few sentences in yamatoan, then he gestured towards a cafe where he had been waiting. There was a table with only two chairs, two plates and two mugs, but there was a bag that looked like a present sitting on one of the chairs. Mrs. Okira seemed to acknowledge something but she motioned to the store next to the cafe and he bowed his head in approval, walking back to the table and the two women walked towards the clothing store. “Where are we going?” Anna asked curiously, looking back at Mr. Okira who waved at her and she instinctually waved back. “To do my idea,” Mrs. Okira explained simply and vaguely. Anna looked up at her but didn’t receive any further details. Stepping into the clothing store, the yamatoan walked over to the festive section where traditional clothing akin to what she was wearing was on display, with varying sizes for Amazons and Littles. She glided over to the Little section and began pushing the outfits apart from each other to show them off. They were like hers, long and flowing dresses with a belt at the center. They were in various color patterns, mixes of reds and golds, with some fading into pinks and pinkish whites. The belts had embroidered golden dragons on them, while most had a rising golden sun on the back. She assessed them carefully, with a level of scrutiny beyond Anna’s understanding, and landed on two options: both were long, of similar cut, but just slightly different dragon looks, and one as a dark red than the other which was more pink. “Which do you prefer?” the yamatoan asked down to Anna, who blinked up at her in confusion. She looked at the two, not seeing much of a difference, but pointed to the pink one. “That one, I guess,” she quietly replied with a slight shrug, still not quite sure what was going on. “Good choice,” the yamatoan smiled as she plucked it from the shelf; stepping away from the display, she explained something quickly to the cashier who acknowledged and gestured towards the back, and she prompted took Anna to a changing room. Setting her down on the bench, she pulled the pieces of the outfit apart. “Traditional yamatoan dress is very loose and – mm – flowing. Not popular for Littles because it hides what is underneath,” she winked to Anna. Anna, opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t think of what to say. She sat there, stunned, as the woman pulled the blanket off of her and began draping her in the traditional clothing. She lovingly pulled her arms through the massive sleeves, and gently cinched the belt, tucking its ends at the back. When she was done, she gestured to the mirror for her to look. Blinking, looking at herself in the mirror, she looked … normal. At least, as normal as wearing a centuries old foreign costume of sorts could be, but the woman was correct: there was no indication of a diaper and no sign of the onesie beneath. Anna could still feel the diaper, of course, but even the layers muffled its crinkling. She looked to Mrs. Okira through the mirror, who appeared to be beaming with joy as she watched. Anna teared up slightly as she looked back to her reflection, feeling an overwhelming flow of gratitude and did the only thing she knew would translate for the woman: she turned around to face her and bowed. “Thank you,” Anna whimpered in her bow, trying her best to hold back the tears. Mrs. Okira burst into yamatoan praise and joy, reaching down to scoop Anna up into her arms and give her a hug, patting her back. Anna couldn’t help but let out a laugh, hugging her back while quickly wiping away her tears. “Okay, let us check out. Mr. Okira has present for you,” she sang in delight as she set Anna back down on the bench so she could fold the blanket up and put it in her basket. “Walk or carry?” she asked. Anna looked down at the dress which was slightly longer than a typical dress she’d wear, and had a bit of drag on the floor. In her consideration, she thought she might trip on the outfit, risking Mrs. Okira regretting the choice and reverting to a hazardless but revealing outfit. With that in mind, she mustered a smile and put her arms up. “Carry, please,” she replied. Hoisted up into her arms with ease, the pair, now looking like a mother and daughter with semi-matching outfits, proceeded out to the counter. Anna jerked in Mrs. Okira’s arms as the tag was pulled off the sleeve. “Wait, I should pay!” she chirped instinctually, feeling guilty that this woman would spend her own money on clothing for a complete stranger. Mrs. Okira’s eyebrows raised high as she pulled her head back in surprise. “You have yamatoa coin?” she puzzled. “Oh… no,” she replied as she deflated, realizing not only that didn’t have yamatoan currency, but that she had left her purse on the plane anyway. Mrs. Okira chuckled in response as she reached into her river belt and pulled out a small fabric bag. “It is my pleasure and treat,” she affirmed as she pulled out cash from the small bag and set it down for the cashier. Everything about this woman was ‘old school’ and the more Anna relaxed around her, the more she appreciated it. She hadn’t used a phone, was paying in cash rather than card, dressed old fashioned, and all of her materials from the basket appeared homemade. The oils, the potpourri – none of it had a company label on it. “Thank you,” Anna simpered when the transaction was done and Mrs. Okira only smiled in response. Once more, they approached the table where Mr. Okira was waiting patiently, and his face lit up as he stood. He and his wife again chattered in yamatoan, though very briefly, and he beamed to Anna. “You look great,” he complimented kindly and Anna blushed, bowing her head in appreciation. That set the pair off again, chattering lovingly in yamatoan, but Mr. Okira recovered quickly as he gestured to the table, taking the basket from his wife and setting it on the ground for her. He picked up the gift bag so she could sit with Anna in her lap, and he presented the gift bag to her. “For you, Anna.” Looking at his beaming face, she took the gift bag with a smile, feeling suddenly very lucky, which was rather insane. An hour ago, she had felt like misfortune was cackling at her and her brother’s expense, yet here she was, being listened to, gifted, and cared for by a rather loving and conscientious pair. She smiled genuinely at him and reached into the bag, feeling two thick objects. She put her other arm in and pulled them out, revealing two child-friendly, thick cardboard books in yamatoan. “This one,” Mr. Okira reached across the table, tapping the first one. “Will teach you common words, so you don’t feel so … um …” he paused, clearly trying to think of the correct word. “Lost,” he landed on with a smile, then tapped the second one. “This one teaches about Spring Festival, which is almost end.” He paused, clearly realizing that didn’t sound right. “Almost … done,” he amended with a nod. Anna blinked, looking down at the books, staring in silence. Mr. Okira cleared his throat, causing her to look back to him and he waved a hand to her. “You do not have to keep,” he clarified, trying to communicate something he feared she thought. “Just for your time here.” She nodded as she realized he must have feared she thought this was a sign she was staying, but her silence hadn’t been a fear response. These were thoughtful gifts from a man who understood she was in a foreign country, not knowing the language, and he was trying to give her the power to feel more comfortable. That, and he was trying to share a part of his culture that wasn’t directly linked to diapers (presumably). It was touching. Feeling a warmth in her chest, Anna silently turned around and placed the books in Mrs. Okira’s lap. The woman looked at her curiously, but placed a hand on the books to keep them in place, while Anna slid down onto the ground. Lifting the front of her skirts, she took the few necessary steps towards Mr. Okira and held up her arms to him. Surprised, but pleasantly so, he reached down and picked her, placing her feet on his legs. She leaned forward and gave him a hug; he gasped, and likewise did his wife, and he almost too-gently hugged and patted her back. “Thank you,” she whispered to him, sniffling quietly, grateful for the long sleeves of her dress to double as a handkerchief. She smiled at him as she pulled back and repeated the process, sliding down onto the ground, lifting her skirts, and stepping over to Mrs. Okira who lifted her back up into her lap. Promptly taking the yamatoan language book, she immediately reclined against the woman and started reading. The Okiras began jabbering back and forth, talking about whatever, as Anna started learning about the characters that made up a single word, and how many were pictographic if you knew how to look at it. The pages showed drawings super imposed over the character and she smiled, learning the words for hello, goodbye, thank you, baby, big, little, mommy, daddy, girl, boy, good and bad as the Okiras had their coffee. Periodically Anna would point to a word and look up at Mrs. Okira, asking to hear the word out loud. She obliged every time, saying it slowly twice, and once quickly to hear the difference. Anna would repeat it out loud and was given far too much praise from the two of them, causing her to blush, wishing they would be more honest about her pronunciation. Anna ran her tongue over her teeth as she was learning the word for water and she had a suddenly realization that she was incredibly thirsty. She looked up and spotted a nearby clock, noting that she had been on the ground for at least an hour now. She had stopped drinking when they learned of this pitstop, and while she could regularly go hours without drinking, she was parched. Looking up to Mrs. Okira once more, she didn’t have to say or do much to get her attention. The pair stopped talking as both sets of eyes looked to her. “May I have water, please?” she asked a little nervously. She knew what this meant. She was going to have to drink from a bottle, or a sippy cup if they were feeling generous, but she hated this dry feeling in her mouth, which almost made her mouth feel dirty, and she could hold in her bladder for two hours. “Of course,” Mrs. Okira purred and Mr. Okira stood up, walking off to handle the request. While they waited, Mrs. Okira she reached her hands down towards Anna’s feet, grabbing them through the dress and giving them a slight squeeze like the massage from earlier. Anna let out a giggle at first, the movement feeling ticklish, but relaxed when the pressure was applied, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. She opened her eyes when she heard the increasingly familiar voice of Mr. Okira who had returned to the table and set down a baby bottle of water on the table. Anna bit her lower lip. Mrs. Okira smiled knowingly as she took the book from Anna and set it on the table, then shifted the Little to lay down in her lap while she moved her arm to create a sort of barrier from the outside world with her large sleeves. She then took the bottle and handed it to Anna, who was grateful to have the agency … but the bottle was heavy. It was made of a dense glass and filled completely, making it difficult to keep it up. She got two sips from the nipple before Mrs. Okira noticed the struggle and, without fuss or fanfare, picked it up and held it for, all while continuing the conversation with her husband. Anna blushed but was grateful and incredibly thirsty, and feeling hidden from stranger’s eyes and judgement, she began suckling the water from the bottle. Paying attention to the conversation, she thought she was able to pick up on the word ‘good’ used a few times, and maybe ‘little’ once or twice, but as they were having a casual, fluent conversation, they spoke very quickly so it was hard to know. Before Anna could think to stop herself, she had drunk the entire bottle and blinked in surprise. She knew she had been thirsty, but still. Mrs. Okira set the bottle down and pulled Anna back up into a seat position in her lap, pointing to the books and Anna nodded, taking the words one to review. It was another half hour of them at the cafe, with Anna switching to the festival book which had a lot more yamatoan than Mr. Okira had realized. This led to Mrs. Okira reading it out to her, adding context to the meaning of the dragon and sun in their folklore. At the end of the book was an inset dragon with golden scales that flipped to reveal red underneath that had an amazing touch sensory effect. Mrs. Okira ran her finger over it to show it off and Anna put her hand on, her eyes widening as the scales felt cool and the flicking effect made her smile. Reminded her of a pillow a friend of hers once bought that looked like a heart, but when the scales were flipped, there was a middle finger underneath. She played with the scales of the dragon while reminiscing, then blinked after a few minutes of this and withdrew her hands, embarrassed. Mrs. Okira closed the book and the couple began packing up, neatly tidying up their table, even wiping off the crumbs. The last hour of the layover was the three of them walking around the airport, walking in and out of shops, watching planes take off … it all felt very normal. Like a family stuck in an airport, making the best of the situation. Mr. Okira tried to convince Anna to let him get her a stuffed animal, but he kept choosing comically large ones she wouldn’t be able to take with her and putting them back; she had the feeling he was doing that on purpose, and began playing along, giggling at each progressively larger one. They visited a musical shop where they explained about some of the old instruments, but Anna pointed to a musical box that played, what she learned, was a very old yamatoan nursery rhyme tune. She listened to it three times before letting out a yawn, collapsing against Mrs. Okira’s chest and falling asleep. “Anna, dear,” came the gentle voice of Mrs. Okira, alongside a patting on the back. Blinking, Anna shot up awake, momentarily panicking. “Shh, it’s okay. They are starting to allow people back on your plane.” “Really?!” Anna burst out in joy, looking around. They were sitting on the opposite side of the gate as people were lining up at the door. She had done it. She had made it through the layover in one of the most surprisingly twists of her life: with a yamatoan couple she liked. Mrs. Okira gave a nod as she set her down on the ground and pulled the fabric bag of her clothes from the basket. Anna smiled brightly as she took the bag and thought, “Have you seen George?” The couple’s kindly smiles diminished slightly as they briefly looked to each other, then nodded. They indicated across the way. Anna turned to look and her heart dropped…. George was being held by Mark, the amazon from their row, who was grinning at the boy in delight. He was in a light blue onesie, his diaper prominently visible and swollen, and as his head turned slightly, Anna could see the pacifier in his mouth. Next to Mark was the Shozen couple, grinning in delight at him, poking and prodding, causing him to wiggle and giggle. Anna took a step back, becoming breathless. She was going to have to sit next to her brother, babied and Adopted, for ten hours. She felt panic grip at her chest and fury in her cheeks, but she was frozen in place, unsure what to do. She hugged the bag close to her chest, wondering if she could move seats, given the circumstances, or if Mark would find some way to adopt her too. She took a step forward as her mind raced with options, and then another … when suddenly she blinked, feeling something strange. Her walking felt … squishy. And her legs felt … wet. She looked down, but it didn’t help, as she was still in the traditional dress, but it felt like something was dripping down her leg. She blinked a few more times as her knees began shaking as she dropped the bag of her old cloths. She pulled up the skirts, revealing a maxed out and leaking diaper, and that’s when the smell hit her. She had not only wet herself without realizing it, she had messed at some point, and been completely unaware. Looking up in horror at the assembled crowd of amazons across the way, she saw the look in Mark’s eyes as he grinned at her brother, and Anna went into a full panic attack meltdown. She couldn’t live like this alongside George. She couldn’t bear to see him like that, nor let him see her like this. She had full on shit herself without knowing it and there was no way to hide that fact; she was going to be adopted. The only choice she had now was by whom… and it wasn’t going to be Mark. Spinning around, she showed her full and leaking diaper to the Okiras who raised their eyebrows high; they must have all missed the smell because of the potpourri, which was now tucked away in the basket. Anna’s eyes filled with tears as she dropped the skirts and reached her arms out for them. It had to be them. She needed it to be them. “Mommy!!” she cried out, using the yamatoan word to really sell it. “Mommy, I need a change!! Daddy!!!” “Of course, of course,” Mrs. Okira moved swiftly, pulling out the changing mat and changing her on the floor right there while she tried soothing her with comforting rubs, Anna having broke out into tears. 48 hours later, in a Yamatoan Government building in Xilang Mr. Okira and Mr. Shozen sat patiently in silence across from their superior, Mr. Yang, who read their reports. With a sigh, the greying haired man set the Okira report down and lifted an eyebrow to him. “So, technically, a failure,” he denoted, gesturing to the report. Mr. Okira bowed his head in shame. “Yes, sir,” he agreed. The plan had never been to adopt her, but send her to a country that opposed Yamatoa’s measures and practices without hypnosis, but definitively in diapers (with a bonus of having a positive experience in Yamatoa). They had wanted to compare how the country of Suomi would handle each case. “And this – a complete failure,” Mr. Yang scoffed as he gestured to Mr. Shozen’s report, who bowed deeply in his chair but remained silent. Despite the success of the tried and true method of hypnosis on George, the suomian man named Mark declined to Adopt the Little within Yamatoa (citing not enough time), and checked him into a clinic for rehabilitation upon arrival. Mr. Yang looked to Mr. Okira. “But we can make use of your failure,” he noted as he removed his reading glasses, and pointed them to Okira to emphasize his point. “A foreign Little who wanted adoption into Yamatoa…” Okira bowed deeply, this time in gratitude. “Clever tricks,” Mr. Yang grinned as he picked up the Okira report again. “I am interested in this massage oil your wife made… she claims she did not feel the suppository?” “The numbing agent helped relax her and numb her senses to that, and the acupuncture,” Okira humbly replied, half nodding, half bowing. Yang nodded, his eyes falling to the notes of where acupuncture in the legs and feet could stimulate the urethrae and bowels. With an idea in mind to make use of this report, he began rereading it and chuckled at the mixture on the teething toy to cause extreme thirst, and the potpourri to mask the smell of a dirty diaper. Every bit was clever. The psychological tricks to force her to make choices, to feel in control while contributing to her declining condition. The clothing meant to protect her dignity from the visibility of diapers, while encouraging her to be carried and dependent. The constant calls to assure her she was leaving and safe with them, protecting her from public humiliation, taking things at her pace, only to, at the height of her desperation, change her publicly on the floor … across from the passengers she had traveled with, no less. It was a lot of work, Yang observed, but the results were speaking for themselves. He tapped his fingers on the desk, his grin widening. “I will submit these results to our foreign affairs office,” he declared with a nod. “They will be pleased to publicize a foreign Little who asked for Adoption. Consider your stay of hypnosis request extended – we will want promotions of your daughter with no signs of tampering. It will be good ammunition on our biggest critics. She is coming along?” “Oh yes,” Okira nodded and bowed again to acknowledge the compliments and planning. “The continued massages and treatments are doing wonders. We are very pleased. She is a good, happy Little baby.”

“I wike your bow.” Giggles. Smiling. Face hurts. Too much smiling. Her lips twitch. The curly blonde girl speaks. “Fanks Chawie!” Suckle once. Suckle twice. The monstrously big rubber pacifier bounces between her pink lips. Jenny can feel her burning cheeks as a crimson blush spreads from her chest upwards. “I wike your shoes.” She points at his Spider-Man sneakers that light up every time he moves. Mommy said good little girls are polite. Good little girls say please and thank you. Good little girls know they are Little, adorable, and helpless. Not beautiful or sexy. Cute. The opposite gender didn’t give her any attention for anything other than a new playmate. However, there was the occasional un - regressed Little that always got a little bit too excited, but of course, their mommies and daddies always nipped that silly behavior in the butt. Still though, Jenny liked to have fun when the opportunity arose because for her fellow under six footers, life in this padded prison was abysmally bleak. “D’ya wanna pway in ve house?” The five foot nine inch tall man turned toddler pointed behind them at the red wooden structure. There was just a hole for the door and two open windows. Glancing to the left, Mrs Smith and Miss Tully stood at the blacktop across the playground deep in conversation as the Little diapered adults, less than half their size of nearly twelve feet, ran wild. Charlie winked, taking her hand in his and Jenny couldn’t deny the bursting sensation in her chest that they were about to do something naughty. She nearly pissed herself in excitement - nearly that is. But it would be okay if she did because Mommy always made sure she was extra padded. Two diapers that puffed out to below her knees, a soaker pad, leak guard and pretty diaper cover to match her frilly dresses. She knew not to get too rowdy at Daycare because Mommy didn’t like mess and made extra care to crimp her bleached curls to perfection and dress her in her Sunday’s best every day. That is why Jenny knew it wouldn’t be a very good girl thing for her to run off, disrespecting all of her Mommy’s hard work like that. But at the same time, this was the most fun adventure Jenny had had in a while and she just couldn’t say no. Besides, Charlie was just about the cutest boy in daycare. Everyone obsessed over him from his chocolaty brown eyes to rich olive skin. Jenny knew that especially Sunny and Polly would be pouting to their crib at night because the most mature boy, one of the few potty training, was interested in her. “Come wif me.” he tugged on her hand and she can’t deny his dimpled grin. She waddled after him, slowed by the thick bulk between her legs and stuck her arms out for extra balance. They made it across the wood chipped lawn and as she thought they were about to hop up into the house, instead he led her behind. Confusion turned to worry and then to a creeping excitement at their mysterious adventure. Hmmmm… So Charlie Sigworth liked to live life on the edge. Oh, Jenny could definitely get behind that. Snickering softly as they disappeared from sight, Jenny wastes no time. Just as he’d lead her across the playground with her hand, she takes his hand directing it between her legs, clutching the thick padding. He squeezes, instinctively, and Jenny has him pressed against the wall, padded hips grinding into his puff-less lower half. She’s tugged the ends of her skirt up, pulling down the diaper cover and shows off her squelchless diaper, not a stain in the front nor the back. It’s not as if Sunny Freeman could say the same thing, she thinks with a smirk. “Wait -“ Charlie exclaims in a suddenly surprised voice as his wrist is caught in her grasp. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Her voice squeaked out in a delicate timber yet the glimmer in her blue eyes told a different story. “Jenny -” he choked out, blotches of red coating his skin but it is too late. The Little has no reason to think that this isn’t a two way relationship because of the way he’d flirted, going on about her hideously pink bow, grinning and taking her hand flirtatiously alluding to a grand escapade behind the old shed. But he pulls his hand back, pushing them apart until she is nearly an arms length away. Not for the first time, Jenny is deeply troubled because why didn’t he want her? Everyone seemed to want her these days. Was she trying too hard? Going too fast? Maybe he preferred girls who were wet and messy. Maybe if she just - no! Immediately she pushed the idea from her mind. He was a big boy. He wore pull-ups. Why would he want a baby like her? Her brows furrowed together, an indent forming in the middle as she suckled anxiously on the rubber bulb. Did he not find her absolutely adorable? Pretty was going a bit too far because that was only reserved for mature Littles and if she was in diapers, that meant she was too immature to hold in her business for the potty. At least, that’s how it was according to Amazonian logic and the Potty song. But, she had once been a big mature girl, one where the Charlie Sigworth’s of the world would call her pretty and beautiful and a whole ton of other scandalous names she dare not utter aloud or think. “What are you doing?” he sputtered in shock. “What are you doing?” She repeats. She was confused, especially when his hand shot out, wriggling the rubber bulb out from between her lips. The Little let out a gasp as with one quick motion, he threw her pacifier to the ground. “Chawie!” He sighed a very mature sigh like when Mommy made her stop playing when it was time for dinner but she wasn't ready yet. He said, “What’s with these games? I heard you liked to get right to it.” Her mind spun in circles, attempting to decipher what the heck he was talking about but didn’t have long to ponder as suddenly, he stepped forward again. His head turned, lips puckered and his mouth touched her own ever so softly. Jenny realized with a startle that they were kissing and it was not like the tiny thimble kiss that Wendy gave to Peter Pan. This was a grown up kiss. A mature kiss. A kiss she’d seen Amazons give each other with an intensity only giants seemed to possess. Not Littles like her. It’s too much, way too much, and before she knows what she is doing, Jenny has placed her hands on his chest and shoves him away. “Hey!” he exclaims as he stumbles backwards. “What was that for?” She squeals. “I - you - we - eeep!” Jenny can’t speak. No logical words will form in her mouth because that was a very mature act that her little immature brain couldn’t handle and Mommy, Mrs. Tully, Miss Smith and every other Amazon always said how proud they were that she knew how little she really was. But this wasn't a very little thing to do. “We came behind here to make out,” he said in a tone as if she should’ve understood. Make out? Her face scrunched up in disgust, eyes squeezed shut and nose wrinkled. She exclaimed, “ewww! Cooties!” Wiping at her mouth, attempting to get rid of the icky boy germs, this was way worse than just some silly naughty fun. Oh, if Mommy found out…. this would mean big punishment. Many spankings, big enemas, maybe even going back to etiquette school. She couldn’t do etiquette school again. That was a nightmare. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest then realizing there were even worse things to think about than just cooties. Jenny gulped, fingers inching their way up to her mouth in a need to calm the rising stress. She just wished for her pacifier. She couldn’t remember a time where she was without it in the last year. Tears welled up in her eyes, wanting - no - needing her mommy. “What did you think we were doing?” he asked when she didn’t respond. The Little sniffled, trying to explain, “I - I was gonna show you my diaper and you show me your pull-up and we could touch each others - “ He backed away. “That’s what you’ve been doing sneaking away with others?! The way everyone made it sound… “ Charlie scowled, shaking his head in apparent disgust. “They’ve brainwashed all of you! Do you even know how you sound right now?” His words struck her core, Jenny knowing that he is right. She was just a little immature baby. No one like Charlie would ever find her cute. “I - I need to get out of here.” That’s all he could say before turning away and with teary eyes, Jenny thought that was it. However, he spun around one last time. In a sad voice, he whispered. “I really liked you, Jenny. I thought you were different.” ooOoo I thought you were different. The words repeated over and over again in her mind. I thought you were different. Jenny knew that he really meant: I thought you were bigger. I thought you were more mature. Her cheeks burn bright in humiliation as she spirals over her previous actions. Stupid, Jenny. Why are you so stupid? Now, she pouts watching from across the room as Charlie flirts with Shelly MacDonald over finger paints. Jenny has seen enough and without a thought, throws down the stuffed animal in her hand, glaring at the girl so obviously flaunting her pull-up. It just wasn’t fair! Steps sound behind her and before she knows it, a surprise intrusion wiggles its way down her backside, pulling at the strap. She’s startled, jumping slightly before realizing it was Mrs. Smith. The gray haired Amazon was a stern woman and made sure the running of her daycare progressed smoothly with behaved Littles and never dry padding. “Hmmm,” she hummed, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Wet and messy. You always know how to make me happy, don’t you?” Wet and messy? There’s a look of surprise on her face as Mrs. Smith announced it loudly, causing even Charlie to look over briefly much to her shame. She hadn’t even realized she went but then again, it’s not as if it was something she had to mind. Her unpotty training had been extensive. ”If only everyone could be as good of a little girl as you,” said Mrs. Smith with a pat to her head as the strap snapped back against her skin. Jenny fidgeted uncomfortable not from the warm mush in her bottom but from the fact that the Amazon’s statement couldn’t have been further from the truth. Jenny was not a good girl. She was a bad girl, sneaking away on their little diaper adventures, kissing boys and couldn’t help but dream about a life she was supposed to forget where she was a twenty - eight year old woman who just happened to be born the wrong size in the wrong dimension and made the stupid mistake of falling in love with an Amazon. Only, instead of taking her to bed she was seduced to the crib and the only action she got after was the touch of fingers spreading baby powder over her nether regions. She wasn’t being her usual self, quiet and avoidant. Jenny had never been a good liar and her hurting stomach was testament that she wouldn’t be able to ignore the Amazon’s suspicious eyes for long. But at the same time, she couldn’t just betray Charlie because she would be incriminating more than just herself and that wasn’t fair. “You’re awfully quiet, Jenny. Playing all by yourself… is something wrong?” Oh, there were a lot of things wrong… but Jenny couldn’t say. Mrs. Smith stood in front of her now, peering down with eyes that pierced right through her soul but the Little refused to bend. “J-jus’ tiew’” she responded, faking a yawn and giving her pacifier a hearty suckle. “We just did have nap time. Did you not sleep like a good girl?” Oh no. Jenny knows she has gotten herself stuck in a pickle now. If she continued her lie, she’d get a spanking. If she admitted that she’d lied, she’d get an extra big spanking. If she’d admitted that she’d lied and told the truth…. she’d get much more than a spanking. This was a lose - lose situation. The only question now was how much was she willing to tolerate. She’d had a spank free record of almost a week and that’s only because she hadn’t wanted to stop playing at bath time. Mrs. Smith leaned down suddenly, removing her paci and a cry of surprise sounds from her lips. Immediately she whines, reaching for it back but the Amazon makes a tsking sound with her lips and pockets it in her pants. Charlie looks over again, this time his face has paled and she can the pleading look in his eyes to stay quiet. Jenny is tempted, really she is, but makes the mistake of glancing at Shelly, all cozied up beside Charlie, makes her blood boil. “Well?” Mrs. Smith tapped her foot impatiently. “Was someone a naughty girl?” Very naughty. Jenny gulped, feeling a thick coating of sweat across her forehead. She fidgeted with her skirt, eyes looking every other way except at Mrs. Smith. “I thought you were a polite little girl but perhaps you need a reminder because ignoring grown ups, not sleeping, lying… that’s only something a bad little would do. Little Jenny isn’t a bad girl, is she?” Jenny tried to keep her lips shut, really she did, but the way Mrs. Smith looked at her, sent her insides into turmoil. Whatever control Jenny thought she possessed was no longer and with buckets of sweat dripping down her body, the words burst from her lips before she could help it and the truth came pouring out. And that was the problem of a little crush. It always turned into something more and Littles just didn’t have the mental or physical capacity to handle these great big emotions which is why the Amazons had to step in, never mind the outcry from the little boy - oops - little girl. Now, one month later, Jenny was happy for another girl friend even if little Lottie was always in a grumpy mood. It was a sacrifice that had to be made for the good of every Little at Sunshine Daycare to remember their place in this big world. Charlie had gone from sneaking around the playground stealing affection from equally eager diapered women to playing princess in the poofiest thickest dresses to exist. Little Charlie ceased to exist the day his last remaining sign of masculinity was caged away, nice and tight protected by a thick waddle-inducing diaper. He also took on a new identity by a little sissy boy named Lottie and Jenny couldn’t ignore the tremendous amount of pride that this transformation was her doing. Now, she had him all to herself and no other girl would pay the Sissy any attention because the one thing they’d craved had been stripped away. But for Jenny, that had never been a problem. While it was frustrating that her little side quests had resulted in the loss of her hands, stuck in these thick mittens, it was a small price to pay. She wouldn’t lie though and say that etiquette school a second time was fun but she learned an important lesson in not trying to be older than you are. Little girls have nap time for a reason. Little girls don’t play with their diapers for a reason. Little girls don’t ’make out’ with little boys for many different reasons. She had many messy days and sore bottoms to think about her actions and Jenny realized in the end that being big was hard and the cause of too many complications. She was still suffering from them a month later with a gurgling tummy, full backside, and continuous daily spankings. “It was just a little crush!” She’d exclaimed through tears, kicking her legs as she was thrown over the towering woman’s lap and a heavy hand smacked her bottom. “Just like you had on your mommy? We all know how that ended.” Etiquette school offered no mercy, verbally or physically, nor did she deserve it and Jenny had never felt smaller. The fateful night in topic was supposed to be a nice steak and wine dinner but the Little’s first mistake was accepting the dinner invitation. Her second mistake was tasting the tempting glass of alcohol that no Amazon would ever offer a Little and lastly, her biggest mistake was believing the Amazon could ever have a crush on her back. Needless to say, there was no such thing as just a little crush. There was no such thing as a little anything in this giant world. That is how the two Littles found themselves now, squatting at Daycare as a simultaneously rush of soapy water gurgled through their extended abdomens and they bared down, pushing, pushing, pushing - “Arghhh!” Lottie cried. “I’m a big boy! This isn’t fair! You did this to me!” Warm mush, big and smelly snaked out into the thick padding with eagerness as the Amazon’s approvingly watched from a distance. Jenny was very used to this by now and let her bowels do their magic. She couldn’t help but giggle in between grunts because Lottie was being so silly. She wasn't a boy, especially with that curly long perm and certainly wasn't big by the size of her diaper (no more pull-ups) filling up nice and messy. Even if this life wasn’t fair, there was no changing it now and they could only make the best of the situation. “Don’t worry, Lottie.” She panted, taking her hand. “We’ll never be apart now!” “I didn’t want it like this! I hate you!” Hate was such a silly thing that Jenny didn’t mind because one day he’d realize how right they were for each other- diapered together forever. ooOoo Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Here’s just another little short story I’ve had sitting in my drafts. It was written and cleaned up within less than an hour so if nothing makes much sense, I apologize 😭. Anyways, I love seeing your reviews and happy reading!!

Pampers for Moms. Fade in shot of a pregnant mother holding a baby "For over 60 years moms have trusted Pampers to keep their babys clean and dry." A toddler running to a kneeling, pregnant mother "From our Swaddlers for newborns, to our Cruisers for active toddlers, we have been dedicated to providing the right diaper for every situation." The mother catches the toddler, lifting and swinging them around, both laughing "Or so we thought." Camera greyscales, mother stops laughing and grimaces, eyes dart to the side and the camera follows, pans to the bathroom "Frequent or sudden urges, bladder leakage, shame, feeling like your all alone, like your baby isn't the only one that should be in diapers?" The mother leans to put the child down and rush to the bathroom, camera pans away, splashing water sounds out "Maybe you're right." Repeat shot of toddler running to mother, except now the mother is in Pampers as well. Shot is brighter, sunnier, than initial "Introducing Pampers for Moms." The mother catches the child and they both continue laughing and playing "2 out of 3 women experience some form of bladder incontinence during or after pregnancy, but few are willing to acknowledge it. Shamefully buying leakage pads, hoping noone notices, ever fearful of it shifting. Pampers says no more. It is time to stop the stigma around something that effects more women than it doesn't." Now in the bathroom, the mother is taping the last tape of her Pampers, focus on the diaper "Pampers for Moms come with a super stretch waistband, allowing for any growing belly to fit comfortably." Standard absorption test with blue water "With up to 6500 ml capacity you can go up to 12 hours between changes, allowing you to get on with your busy life, worry free." The diaper being taped, untaped, then retaped "And with our hook and loop fastening system, you can easily take the diaper off when you can make it to a toilet, then put it back on when done." Zoom on the smiling mom, toddler held to her hip and diaper wet "Pampers for Moms. Isn't it time you were pampered too?"

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

Gabby was on her hands and knees, attempting to solve the hardest and most important test of her entire life: how to use all the pieces in the Center’s railroad set and make a route for the toy trains that used every bit of track without fail OR overlap. When the caretakers had given her the task four hours ago, Gabby had been positive that she could do this. Now, she wasn’t so sure. “It’s a simple test,” Mr. Tom had said. “To double check.” “Double check what?” Gabby had asked. “To check if you’re really the adult you say you are,” he said before spooning in another mouthful of mashed peas. “If you’re not a big baby, it should be easy.” “What if I’m not a big baby?” “Then you can leave. You’ll get your big girl panties back, and you can go back to your grown-up life.” “And if I am a big baby?” Mr. Tom hadn’t answered that question. When Gabby’s boyfriend, Daddy, had sent her to the Center, he’d told her it was “like a spa.” Therapeutic. Restorative. And it had been. A perfect birthday gift, in fact. But after that first relaxing day, the people who operated the Center had told her that there were some “irregularities” and that she’d have to stay for further “treatment and testing.” Her panties had never been returned. They’d put her back in diapers, “just in case.” That had been close to two months ago. Since then her wardrobe, her behaviors, and (she feared) her mindset had gotten more and more infantile. Daddy had tricked her. He’d known about this place, this Center, for a long time. This was his fault. He wanted her to be turned into some big dumb baby and had sent her here knowing that this would happen. When (not if) she got out of this place, she’d give Daddy a piece of her mind. If only she could remember what Daddy’s first name was… Gabby looked up from her train set, a forked piece of wooden track still in her hand. Dang it. The bridges and tunnels were straight, so they were easy. The curved ones were easy enough to circle around. The pieces that forked, necessitating two distinct paths- those were the real pains in the butt. Speaking of pains in the butt, little Susie was being bent over Mr. Bob’s knee for trying to take her diaper off. Her bare bum was above her head as Mr. Bob spanked it mercilessly. Susie would be begging to have her diaper back on. She’d have to plead if she wanted it to stop: promise that she was just a big dumb baby and that she hadn’t meant to be so naughty. That’s what Gabby had done, anyways. At present, Gabby couldn’t tell which was redder: Susie’s smacked bottom, her tear streaked face, or the mortified looks of the onlookers not yet used to these all-too-common occurrences. The new kids, the ones still allowed pajama bottoms over their medical-brand incontinence briefs, gasped. Some hid their feelings- whether shock or amusement- behind the palms of their hand. Others pointed and laughed openly, just like caretakers were nudging them to. They sang out in the same nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo chorus that every single pre-schooler throughout history somehow learned through cultural osmosis. “She’s-a-big-dumb-ba-by! She’s- a-big-dumb-ba-by! Thought-she-was-a-big-girl! Thought-she-was-a-big-girl!” The ones who did this were rewarded. They’d get to skip the shots and not have to watch the special cartoons that all the new kids had to be exposed to while the caretakers tried to “figure out what was wrong” with them. They’d still have to have their temperatures taken rectally, but that was expected of everyone here. Little did the laughing ones know that soon enough their relatively plain pajama bottoms and scrub tops would go the way of the dodo, along with their medical style incontinence briefs. Those dignified and clinical garments would be substituted out with “play clothes” that looked more appropriate for a toddler. Their new padding would be so puffy and cartoonishly decorated that calling it anything other than a diaper would have been a farcical misnomer. The Center would be “Temporarily Out of Stock,” but things would be back to normal in a few days, Miss Kate or one of the other caregivers would assure them. And Mr. Mark would emphasize that they “didn’t want to just lay around in their jammies all day like a bunch of lazy babies,” did they? Normal never came though, and the various caregivers would seem to forget their promises by the time a new batch of Unfortunates sporting pajama bottoms, scrubs, and medical briefs were ushered into the main playroom. And so the assembly line trudged on. This place broke people down by degrees. Gabby had seen it all first hand. Yesterday, Susie had just “graduated” to a skirt long enough to hide her diaper. That’s why she’d felt bold enough to try and sneak it off. Freebum it. Now, if she was lucky, she’d be going into an even bulkier diaper, a dress that would barely drop past her waistline, and locking plastic pants “just in case.” If not, Susie wouldn’t have been the first dumb baby to get put in a onesie for her trouble. Gabby herself was in nothing but a fire-engine-red t-shirt splotched with snack-time applesauce where the bib had failed, and a fresh diaper taped on. No shoes or socks; she didn’t need them here. Pants would have been too much trouble, too. Her long red hair had been tied back in a ponytail; the decorative pink ribbon holding it together made her look “absolutely adorable.” That’s what Mr. Jim had told her when he dressed her this morning. She couldn’t help smiling when a broken and defeated Susie was carried off to be re-diapered and put into something more fitting for a baby like her. This setup wasn’t working: the train kept having to reuse that track in the middle in order to get to the last stretch, no matter where she started it from. Dang... Gabby growled and scattered the little pieces of wood in a tiny tantrum. The momentary lapse, the catharsis, was necessary and expected of her. For what felt like the hundredth time, she crawled along her designated play space, gathered up the pieces from the floor, and started over again. If any of the newbies gave her weird looks, she didn’t notice. She’d grown beyond that, beyond their pettiness. It’s how she’d survived so long here. The constant laughing and the taunting had made it hard to make friends with anyone except for the caregivers. Babies were......(crud! Kids! She meant kids- No! Prisoners...prisoners!) Prisoners were encouraged to mock each other, to prove that they were as big as they said they were by showing how small their peers were by comparison. Susie had been no different. She’d been a royal bitch, too; bragging about how she was so smart she could get away with taking off her diaper. Gabby hadn’t felt guilty when she’d warned Miss Donna this morning that Susie was planning to go Daisy Duck. At nearly two months, Gabby was one of the longest residents in the Center’s Front Half. All of this: the mind games, the taunting, gaslighting, the infantilization, all of this was old hat to her now. She was all but immune to it. No way was she going to the Back Half. The Front Half was where the “testing” was done. Where residents were poked and prodded and teased until it was known whether they were true grown-ups or just big dumb babies. The Back Half? That was where people went when they were “ready.” Gabby didn’t know what happened in the Back Half. All she knew, all anyone knew, is that Back Half was a roach motel: they checked in, but they never checked out. Almost everyone that Gabby had met on her first day at the Center was already gone to Back Half. Only Chelsea had been here longer, and Chelsea was spending most of her days on her back, sucking her thumb and playing with her own tits. Chelsea was just about ready for the Back Half. If Gabby ever came across any of the people who’d gone before her, she’d promised herself, it wouldn’t be in Back Half. The caregivers were giving her this chance to avoid that fate and she was going to take it! Gabby had to poop. Good. Big dumb babies didn’t have to poop. They just did it. No thinking. No hesitation. No realization. No regrets. That’s why they needed diapers. That’s what made them big dumb babies. “What about my diaper?” she’d asked Mr. Tom as he’d set the giant tub of railroad tracks down in front of her on the playroom carpet. Mr. Tom had just smiled at that. “A grown-up girl like you?” he’d said. “You don’t need to worry about diapers.” HA! TAKE THAT, DADDY! With the biggest evidence against her adulthood discounted and out of bounds, Gabby was positive she’d prove herself beyond a shadow of a doubt. In giving her this chance, Mr. Tom was ruining all of Daddy’s plans. That had been hours ago. A pat to her squishy backside broke her out of her reverie. She squished...that meant she’d peed! Peed without even feeling the need to! Slight correction: she’d peed her pants. That was a trick she’d learned from one of her predecessors. The Center’s caregivers always chose their language carefully. They’d say “You’re wet” or “You need a new diaper,” doing everything they could to first embarrass and then normalize whatever they’d forced Gabby to do to herself. No adult ever said “I peed in the potty.” Potty was the default. No need to contextualize. It was normal for them. Likewise, babies didn’t “wet their diapers.” They were just wet. Wet diapers were the default. No need to contextualize. Or so the thinking went. So if someone kept reminding themselves that this wasn’t supposed to be normal, it’d help prove they were more than what the caregivers in their fancy lab coats thought they might be. Then again, the person who’d taught Gabby that trick had been carted off to the Back Half, rubbing themselves through a soaking diaper and babbling “Pee-peed in mah pants!” So...yeah...grain of salt. The offending hand belonged to Miss Mel. “You’re wet,” she said. Gabby just blushed and nodded. Denial here was met with punishment. The caregivers knew best and anyone who directly contradicted them was swiftly put in their place. Only big dumb babies denied when they were wet. “Do you want to go potty?” At this, Gabby furiously shook her head. She’d played this gambit before. The rims of the “potties” here were coated with something that made icy hot seem tepid. According to people like Miss Mell, the ghost pepper level burn on a baby’s butt meant that they just “weren’t ready” to use the potty. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” A scream from the bathroom confirmed one of Gabby’s earliest memories of this awful place. That newcomer would just keep their pants on next time. Miss Mel didn’t seem to notice the howls of pain echoing out into the playroom. “Do you want me to change you?” Again, Gabby shook her head. She had work to do. She had to prove she was an adult; a big girl. Miss Mel looked at Gabby’s progress, a few tracks still in disarray, and then gave the girl a pat on the head. “You’re doing so good today. I’m proud of you!” Gabby felt a heat rising up in her face. Flexing her ankles, she pressed the top of her foot into the soft shag of the rug she’d been placed on. Her toes curled and into the carpet and grasped at the individual fibers, luxuriating for a moment while she smiled despite herself. She wasn’t sure what Daddy had told the caregivers to do to her, but something in that simple compliment, something in compliments in general, filled her with disproportionate joy. Miss Mel walked away, and Gabby was left to ponder her tangled mess of pathways. What was Miss Mel so proud of? As far as Gabby could tell, she wasn’t anywhere close to finding a solution to this puzzle. The idea that there might not really be a solution refused to come to her. Gabby looked up and fought the urge to raise her hand. She wanted to ask the grown-up woman what had been meant by that compliment, but the pacifier in her mouth prevented her from speaking. The thing was strapped around her head, preventing any meaningful speech to come out. No. That was two weeks ago. Now, she was just so used to sucking on the rubber teat that she didn’t typically think to stop unless a grown-up popped it out of her mouth for her. Weird. At least she still had to poop. That was something. As she picked up the pieces and rearranged the track pattern for what felt like the hundred and umpteenth time, Gabby looked to her right and saw Priscilla. Priscilla was in a little sailor dress. It was cute. Almost grown-up. But it was just short and stiff enough that if the girl reached her hands over her head, bent down, or even squatted it would leave her very babyish diaper on full display, and that was if the thing was dry. How unfortunate it was then that Priscilla had been told that she needed to use all the blocks to make a super tall tower without falling over. Even sadder was that a couple of very naughty, very doped up newcomers- all boys- cat called, whooped and taunted Priscilla when even the slightest bit of plastic padding peaked out from the hem of her pristine sailor dress dress. Gabby remembered this test. Leaving her spot on the carpet, Gabby crawled over to Priscilla. There was still just enough crinkle in her diaper so that Priscilla could hear her approaching. “What do you want?” Priscilla asked. Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile. Wasn’t welcoming either though. It was as if Gabby had some kind of semi-contagious disease and a lifetime of manners combined with a thimbleful of human decency were the only things keeping Prissy’s anger and panic at bay. Priscilla’s eyes darted over to Gabby’s backside. Unconsciously, the girl’s hands were tugging at the hem of her dress as if that would somehow make the thing longer. “Uh unna hep.” Gabby frowned and let the pacifier drop out of her mouth, dangling from her shirt. “I wanna help.” The girl in the sailor dress frowned. “Help how?” There was a hint of curiosity in her tone. Gabby lifted a block with the letter 4 on it up to Priscilla. “So you don’t have to bend over,” she said. A soft, genuine smile lit up Priscilla’s face. “Thank you,” she said, taking the block and putting it on top of the tower. “Awwww!” one of the boys said, laughing. “Wook at da babies tawkin!” Priscilla’s face was flushed. She still cared what people other than the caregivers thought. Another thing Gabby had grown past. “Immow ‘em,” Gabby said. “What?’ She spit the pacifier back out. When had she put it back in, anyway? “Ignore them,” she repeated. “They’re a distraction.” Priscilla was ramrod straight. “But they’re so distracting.” She was tugging again. Gabby handed her another block. “That’s the point. They’re there to distract you.” “But why?” Priscilla’s question was uncomfortably close to a whine. “Sovatoo-” “Keep that paci out of your mouth.” Gabby dropped her jaw and yanked the clip off her shirt. “So that you don’t finish. Or so that you get desensi...desense?” Gabby paused, trying to get her dumb baby mouth to say the right big girl word. “So that you get used to it and stop caring about people seeing your diaper.” Priscilla looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would they want to do that? This is about block stacking.” “It’s a trick.” Gabby said before giving the girl another block. The tower was getting taller and Prsicilla was lifting her arms way above her head- almost on her tippy toes. Her dress was practically just a long t-shirt. Priscilla was starting to ignore the boys’ cat calls. The boys were obviously having less fun because of it. Good. Fuck ‘em. Boys were stinky. Daddy was a boy. Just like before, the tower was starting to wobble, too top heavy to maintain its height for long. “You know it’s impossible, right?” Gabby asked. “There’s no way you can make a tower without the blocks falling. They’re not balanced right.” The blonde girl scoffed. “How would you know that?” she asked. “You’re just a-” Gabby was bracing herself for hearing the b-word when Priscilla stopped and let out a gasp. “I’M PEEING!” Priscillas hands didn’t shoot down to her crotch like Gabby’s had that day. Instead they flapped up and down like an ostrich that hadn’t got the memo on flight. The blonde girl’s legs bowed themselves out and the diaper quickly started to droop. It was less than two inches, all told, and you could only see the slight discoloration in the padding if you really looked for it, but there was no doubt, no position or stance that Prissy could have taken where it wasn’t obvious what had been hiding under her skirt. Gabby bit her lip, wishing she still had her paci. Welcome to the club, she would have said. “TEACHER!” she cried. “TEACHER! MISS DONNA! MR. BOB! I HADDA AX-E-DENT!” Gabby was distinctly uncomfortable with the waves of deja vu coming over her as Prissy frog-marched herself to the nearest changing table like a good girl. Was there a word for the opposite of nostalgia? The boys in the pajama bottoms renewed their gleeful taunting “AWWW,” one of them called out. “DID THE WIDDLE BA-?” The boy stopped and went quiet. The blood drained from his face. “Uh-oooooh…” For once, the rude noise was coming from somewhere other than his mouth. Like a cat, Miss Mel slunk behind the boy. Gabby saw it coming, but the boy didn’t even realize he was being checked until Miss Mell was pulling back the waistband of his pants and staring at the inside of his briefs. “Oh Billy,” she sighed. “These incontinence briefs aren’t meant for THAT!” Billy’s “friends” turned on him instantly as he was being shamefacedly led off behind Gabby to get changed. He would not get put back in a “brief,” Gabby knew. He wouldn’t be rejoining those boys either. But soon enough, they’d be joining him. Just the wrong blast of moving air from the conditioner came and the wobbly block tower started crumbling to its base; likely just as the tapes on Prissy’s diaper were being ripped off. Gabby let out a sigh. So much for her attempted good deed. She looked back over her mess of tracks. Might as well get back to play. The block tower was a trick. It’d been a trick before. Always been a trick. Everything here was meant to tease and draw out the big dumb baby in you. The only way it didn’t was if there was no big baby to coax out. Good thing she was getting out of here. Gabby had seen and experienced the block tower and the sailor dress. She’d listened close to the lullabyes from the safety of her crib with the secret messages in them of “cartoons are best.” She’d been able to blink and rub her eyes at just the right time to notice the flashes of text hidden behind her favorite cartoons. “Cribs are safe.” She’d endured spanking after spanking after spanking, admitting that she was just a big dumb naughty baby, but not really meaning most of it. She knew she wasn’t naughty. She’d endured forced orgasms in wet diapers and sensually whispered recordings of “good baby” in Daddy’s voice followed by an immediate teddy cuddle. When she’d gotten to expect that, orgasm denial and Daddy’s voice saying “Naughty baby,“ got added to the mix. And she’d been given game after game after game of tests and activities that were never what they seemed. The track test was real, however. She was sure of it. She had to be. She needed to be. She’d never seen this test before, had never spied any of the other babies trying it, whether they’d gone to Back Half or had come after her. This was her chance. Maybe her last. She’d managed to overhear the caregivers talking amongst themselves. “Almost ready.” Gabby had proved herself a big girl. They’d thrown everything they had at her and she’d stayed true to herself; a big girl. That’s what “Almost ready” meant. It had to. An hour later, relief found her. “I did it,” Gabby whispered to herself. “I did it.” She ran the little train along the tracks. A perfect circuit. No track used more than once. Her laughter was quiet, but manic and giddy. She was Frankenstein when the monster’s hand started twitching. She did it...she did IT...she DID IT...SHE! DID! IT! Not even the pain in her gut, the cramping in her abdomen, begging for release could stop the corners of her mouth from rising to the ceiling. Finally. free at last. She relaxed her tired and overworked bowels, and started to push. It had been so long since she’d actually tried to hold it in that the relief was palpable when she finally let herself give it. She practically flooded her disposable pants with muck. It wasn’t even really pushing and grunting as much as it was letting go and moaning in victory. Gabby rewarded herself, luxuriating in the feeling as the warm mush pressed up against the back of her diaper spreading out, letting out a breathy sigh as her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. This was going to be the last dirty diaper she’d ever wear. Might as well enjoy it. It was just like a concentrated and very specific mud bath; almost exactly like the one she’d gotten on her first day here. Instead of standing on her feet, Gabby rolled over and sat in her mess, whispering Daddy’s name as the filth spread all over her. This time it was Miss Donna who creeped up behind her and checked her diaper. “Uh-oh,” Miss Donna said. “Someone needs a change.” Gabby’s eyes shot open, her smile disappeared. “Miss Donna, wait!” she cried. “I need to show Mr. Tom something!” “Mr. Tom has already gone home for the day,” Miss Donna replied. “You can clean up your train toys after I change you.” Clean up?! The poor girl looked at her masterpiece, her proof that she was a big girl. Then she looked at the clutter of blocks that used to be Priscilla’s tower and felt a shred of panic. If she crawled away now, she might never crawl back. In absence of her paci, a strand of Gabby’s ponytail found its way to her mouth. “Buff I goffa sow Mr-” Miss Donna held up her hand to silence the girl. “Fine, fine, kiddo. Show me what you got.” Gabby shuddered in anticipation. It was now or never. Her diaper sagging off her hips, she took the toy train and ran it along the tracks, making sure to carefully plot its route so that not a single piece of the puzzle was neglected or traveled upon a second time. When she was done, Gabby looked up at the caregiver, looking and feeling like an exhausted gymnast that had just stuck the landing for the gold medal. “See? I made a complete trip!” She was panting. “That’s very nice,” Miss Donna nodded, “but don’t you think you should make some sounds?” “Excuse me?” “Trains make sounds, you know? You want it to be as realistic as possible, right?” A dreadful uncertainty fell over Gabby. “Right?” Gabby closed her eyes and breathed deep through her nose, unbothered by the fetid odor coming from behind her. “Right.” She did it again, slower this time, and being careful to add in realistic locomotive sounds. “Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-chooooo-choooooo!” The entire thing took damn near two minutes. “Like that?” Miss Donna was clearly delighted. “Very good, Gabby! I’m really proud of you! We ALL are!” Gabby felt that strange sense of euphoria overcoming her. Every nerve ending in her skin tingled with delight. “What a good baby you’ve become!” The scream of ecstasy as Gabby orgasmed on the playroom floor in her loaded nappy caused almost everyone to stop what they were doing and stare as she writhed on the floor...but only for a moment. Miss Donna slid a changing pad under Gabby’s bottom. “Let’s get you out of that dirty diaper, shall we?” Finally. Finally. Gabby nodded and sucked on her thumb. Helpfully, Miss Donna went over to Priscilla’s pile of dumb old blocks, picked up Gabby’s pacifier, and popped it in her mouth before clipping the other end to her shirt. As Miss Donna undid the tapes on Gabby’s diaper, it didn’t occur to her that everyone in the playroom was now staring at her, aghast. She didn’t care that she lacked even the minimal privacy that the changing table in the corner provided. It definitely didn’t occur to her that Miss Donna hadn’t walked up with a packet of wipes and a changing pad; meaning the grown-up must have doubled back and brought them over for Gabby’s second performance. She didn’t care that she could hear Mr. Bob and Mr. Mark muttering to each other. “She’s ready.” “They’re both ready.” She’d have her big girl panties back on. That’s all that mattered. What Gabby did care about was when a new bit of crinkly padding slid beneath her and a cloud of baby powder started coating her privates. “Wuf haffening?” she asked. “I’m changing your diaper.” Miss Donna didn’t even pause to talk as she refastened the fresh diaper onto her ward. “Buffa tain!” Gabby pointed to her masterpiece. “It’s very nice.” “Buff miffa Fom feh!” “You spent all afternoon, crawling around and playing with trains in a wet and poopy diaper,” Miss Donna replied. She took the disgusting balled up mess that had been wrapped around Gabby’s waist a minute ago and handed it off to another caregiver. “Miss Mel told me you even refused a change. Does that sound like something a big girl would do?” Gabby sucked on her paci for comfort. “Does it?” The big dumb baby was shaking her head, even as she prepared her next defense. “Fom feh I oant goffa wree bouf muh diafuh.” Miss Donna placed her hand gently on Gabby’s thigh. “Of course you don’t have to worry about your diaper, sweetie. Babies don’t ever have to worry about their diapers. That’s a grown-up’s job.” Gabby’s throat was already tightening up. “Buff, buff, bufff…!” she pointed to the completed train circuit. “PEEFEF!” The tears were starting to flow. “OFFA PEEFEF!” Miss Mel walked over to Priscilla’s derelict pile of unbalanced blocks. She reached underneath the the wooden rubble and drew out a section of track. A straight piece. The simplest to incorporate, but in the current formation it would have thrown literally everything off. “You missed one, baby girl.” Gabby went silent. She’d failed. She wasn’t an adult. Not a grown-up. Not even a big girl. All she was, all she’d ever been, all she’d ever be was a... BIG. DUMB. BABY. Gabby didn’t struggle as the caregivers took her dirty t-shirt off, only mewling a bit because they forgot to unclip her paci first. She was done struggling. Done lying to herself. She was done being mad at Daddy. She missed Daddy. Mr. Bob and Mr. Mark rolled up with a double stroller. She let herself be loaded and buckled in next to Chelsea without comment or complaint. Chelsea was blowing spit bubbles and playing with her breasts again. Typical Chelsea. Maybe Gabby would try it and see what all the fuss was about. “I don’t think this is quite the place for babies like Chelsea and little Gabby,” Miss Donna said loud enough for everyone to hear. “Come on girls, let’s get you two to a place that’s more appropriate.” Miss Donna looked around the room. “Let’s give these big kids some more space to play.” The stroller started moving, headed out of the main playroom for good. Gabby didn’t ask where she was being taken, but not because she didn’t think to ask. She knew. Everyone did. “Say bye-bye, girls,” Mr. Mark said as the stroller rolled past the assembled toddlers. “Can you say bye-bye to all the big kids?” Gabby didn’t say bye-bye. She didn’t feel like talking. No more words for this baby. Words just got her angry and sad. She could wave, though. Only in her mind, Gabby wasn’t waving “bye-bye.” Instead, she was waving “see you soon.” The new kids looked horrified and backed away, afraid to catch Gabby and Chelsea’s big dumb babyness, still in denial that they already had it in themselves. That’s why their Mommies and Daddies had sent them to the Center. The not-so-new ones merely seemed distinctly uncomfortable, fighting that fight that Gabby had had with herself almost since arriving: not wanting to admit that soon they’d be in the stroller, naked save for their diapers that they wanted so badly to hide. Susie made the effort to nudge her way to the front of the assembled littles. She waved “bye” back to Gabby, a mocking sneer on her mug. Fuck Susie. Poor little Prissy, still in her sailor outfit but with a diaper too big to hide, couldn’t bear to look at Gabby as the stroller rolled past. Gabby knew she’d see the big kids again, soon enough. Because they weren’t really big kids. Just big dumb babies that were too dumb to have figured it out yet. They’d learn though. Everyone learned here. People like Susie and Prissy were just right behind her in the big scheme of things. And if she didn’t see them in the Back Half, that would be okay too. It would mean that she’d be back with Daddy. It would mean that she’d learned everything that he had wanted her to know and that the Center had to teach. It would mean that she was a good baby. Gabby was a good baby. (The End)

I always wondered what it was like to grow old in the diaper dimension, so I put this little ficlet together. I hope you enjoy. * * * * Suzie had a life before the diaper dimension, though she could hardly remember it. More than half her lifetime had passed since waking up in the adoption centre, lost in a land of giants where ‘Littles’ like her were regarded as infants; and though she resisted at first she eventually found happiness in being a baby. More than that, she found happiness in the arms of an Amazon Mommy named Katherine. She glanced between the bars of her crib and to the full length mirror on the other side of the room. There staring back was a little girl wearing a loose-fitting, green-hooded onesie with felt reptile spikes running down the back. Her greying brunette hair sat in pigtails, and the smile behind her pacifier pressed up the slight wrinkles around her eyes. Though youth had passed her by, she still had the heart of a little girl, and for all her days would never let it grow up. What a tragedy it would be to lose to lose her innocence for a second time. The door creaked open, and Suzie started to her feet. “Mommy!” she cried through her pacifier; except that it wasn’t Mommy. It was Julia, Mommy’s biological daughter, and fellow Amazon. Despite being half Suzie’s age Julia towered over her. The Amazon’s presence filled the room, though not as warmly as Mommy did. Still, Julia was nice. She was sweet and loving, and considered adopting a little of her own. Now Suze’s ‘little sister’ had outgrown her, and was an adult in her own right; something that Suzie would never be again. “Mommy’s having a pain day, little one,” Julia said. “I’ll get you changed and take you right to her.” Poor Mommy. The inflammation in her joints seemed to get worse every year. It had come to the point where she could no longer bend to pick Suzie from the floor. Instead Julia’s husband thought to install ramps in every room to waist level surfaces, where Suzie could crawl up and meet her Mommy halfway. Of course Suzie didn’t crawl anymore. That was the one ‘Little’ thing she’d been forced to leave behind. Her knees couldn’t take it. Suzie fussed under her ‘little sister’ all throughout the change; not because she was embarrassed - the shame of wearing diapers and wetting herself passed decades ago - but because she was impatient. She wanted to see her Mommy, now! It took all her self control to keep from jumping up and scampering naked toward the master bedroom. “Hold still, you cheeky little monkey,” Julia sighed. “I’m big enough that I can spank you now, remember?” It was all the warning that Suzie needed. Julia’s spankings hurt - likely her revenge for all the teasing when they were both small. The little girl squealed with delight when they were done, and practically jumped into Julia’s arms. Finally, she could see her Mommy! She loved her Mommy in so many ways; her chubby cheeks radiated with affection, and her smile was the brightest rainbow. Laying in her Mommy’s arms were what she imagined clouds felt like when the angels lazed, and her sing-song voice a heavenly chorus that lifted her spirits high. They passed through the hall and rounded into the master bedroom. Even laid out on the bed with a pained expression Mommy was the most divine creature to ever exist. She lit up, just like Suzie did, as soon as her little girl entered her view. She lifted her arms to meet her baby. “Come here, little one.” Suzie tumbled out of her sister’s embrace and planted her head between Mommy’s breasts. The impact likely caused the Amazon to hurt, but she didn’t complain. Little ones were needy, and didn’t understand their own strength. “How’s my little girl today?” “Good, now that I’m with you,” Suzie muttered. She clung tight, stretching her arms wide to embrace as much of Mommy as she could. The little girl smiled up to her sister, as if to say thank you for bringing them together. Julia smiled back, warmed by the picture of a loving family. A lonely pang sparkled in her eye - the desire for a family of her own. Katherine held her little girl tighter in one arm, and squeezed her daughter’s hand with the other. Time made things difficult, but they would endure. They were a family, and that was all that mattered.

“This is stupid,” Bonnie said. She held her tummy and the butterflies gurgling inside. Strange things were going on in the next room - her room, that she shared with her girlfriend of three years - things that were not even thought about in the everyday world. Claire called from the open door. “This is your fantasy, birthday girl,” she said. “Don’t get cold feet now!” Of all the fetishes to have this one belonged to Bonnie, and she hated it. Why couldn’t she have been landed with something more normal, like a fixation on feet? Instead she craved the soft caress of a diaper against her backside and a mother’s touch, like something straight out of a Freudian casebook. “Are you coming, sweetpea?” Claire poked her head around the doorframe, and beamed. Playing a maternal role was something she’d always dreamed about, though probably not like this. She didn’t laugh or tease when her girlfriend spilled her guts late one night as they lay pillow to pillow, and had only been understanding since. Bonnie almost prayed for a freakout - then she wouldn’t have to go through with this embarrassing game she wanted more than anything in the world. She padded with tiny steps into the bedroom with fists balled at her sides. Her eyes fixed shut, not daring to look at the spread Claire had set out for them. The faint scent of baby powder tickled her nose, sending shivers down her spine. Why, why did she ever open her stupid mouth? Claire’s warmth wrapped around her, and stroked the back of Bonnie’s neck. Her other hand curled around the base of her spine, drawing her close until their bodies pressed together. The dip in Claire’s collarbone seemed a custom fit for Bonnie’s head, and radiated with the sweet scent of her perfume. She whispered in a sing-song tone that only someone with motherhood in their heart could know. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’ve got you. You’re safe with Mommy.” Bonnie’s thoughts melted into jelly, and sloshed all around inside her. She was falling in love again, and hating it - but more than that she was adoring it, and felt need swelling; to open that door, to be small, and to lose herself in the arms of someone safe. She didn’t realize she’d been crying until Claire lifted her chin and brushed away a tear. Her Mommy was all smiles and caring, more than Bonnie had ever known. “Are you ready for your change?” she asked. Bonnie bit her lip. “Do I get to say no?” “Of course you do,” Claire said. “This is your fantasy. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?” Bonnie nodded. Her breath caught in her throat, and was heavy. “But I think you’d regret it if you turned back now,” Claire said. God, why did she have to be so understanding all the time? She nodded and stilled herself, knowing what she said was true. Claire hummed. “Good girl.” The words tickled the would-be little girl with joy. “Now we get you undressed, okay, little one?” Bonnie’s eyes remained closed throughout. It was easier to be small when she couldn’t see, and with every touch she regressed just a little bit more. Though they’d seen each other naked a million times she flushed with shame when Claire pulled down her panties and tights, releasing her clitty from its tuck. “You’re so pretty,” Claire giggled, and ran fingertips down her little girl’s hips. Then she laid tiny kisses along her stomach and the outside of her thighs, which aroused just as much as they tickled. Her girlfriend’s clitty stirred, even if Bonnie hid behind her hands. Lifting herself from her knees Claire ran her hands up her little girl’s side, this time with a firm hold that kept her in place. Bonnie’s gasp betrayed her touch had the desired effect. “Arms up, little girl,” she said. Bonnie did as she was told, and trembled as she did. The long sleeve shirt slipped effortlessly over the little’s head and down her arms, leaving her exposed before her fully clothed partner. She opened her eyes to the first time, and to the strong yet gentle demeanor Claire possessed. Somehow, she seemed taller. “Are you ready for the next step, sweetheart?” Bonnie looked to the bed, and froze again. For a tender moment she managed to lose herself, until the reality snapped in front of her. This was real, and so was her girlfriend, standing in the threshold of her deepest, darkest desire. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I mean, this is great, and I’m having fun, but… I don’t want you to have to do this if it’s something you don’t like, and-” Her rambling ended with a kiss; the kind usually shared by new lovers discovering each other. Claire’s lips dominated Bonnie with heavy laps, and the taste of coffee mingled with chocolate. What seemed an eternity later Claire pulled away, and laid her gaze on the girl lost in her affection. “I want you to say my name,” she said, patiently. Bonnie blinked, and took a moment to register the question. “Claire…?” “No,” she said. “My name right now.” The word caught in Bonnie’s throat - it was too embarrassing to say! Yet the expectation drove her on, pushing her past her shame. She would do anything to make her partner proud of her, even that which scared her most. “M-Mommy…” “What was that, sweetheart?” “Mommy,” she said, this time with greater confidence. It had been worth it, because then she was wrapped up in her Mommy’s arms, and peppered with kisses and words of praise. “Good girl! Such a good girl for Mommy!” Bonnie was a good girl for Mommy - that was all she ever wanted, and she beamed with pride because of it. Joy swirled from the top of her head, and down to the bottom of her toes. The realisation was even better than she had dreamed. “Now, are you going to wear a diaper for Mommy?” The little stopped again, but only for a moment. They’d come so far together, and had to see it through to the end. Hopefully it wouldn’t spoil the scene they’d enjoyed up to that point. Bonnie looked down, and nodded. “O-o-okay,” she stammered. Claire reached for one of the items on the nearby bedside, and lifted a lime green pacifier to her partner’s lips. The plastic nipple was larger than the kind given to real babies, leading Bonnie to wonder just how much thought had been put into her birthday. Biting down on it felt right, comforting, like her mouth had rediscovered its original purpose. As comforting as her paci was in private it was even better in the presence of Claire who was cooing and smiling with greater enthusiasm. “Look what I have for you,” Claire said. She reached to the bed, and with one hand offered her little one a stuffed labrador with a soft, shiny golden coat, and a large red bow around her neck. Her squeak reached peak levels. “It’s Penny the Puppy!” Bonnie snatched the toy happily and wrapped it as tight as her arms could hold. It was the one aspect of her little life that hid in plain sight, which for the longest time she had explained as being for her anxiety. Now they both knew that Penny was so much more. “Come on, baby. Time to get you dressed again.” She guided Bonnie to the bed, making sure to be patient for her mincing little steps, and to the edge where a large, adult sized diaper lay open. Again, Bonnie fixed her eyes closed, but if that's what she needed then that was okay. “Lay down,” Claire sang, and turned her girl around. She plopped her bum down on the diaper with a loud crinkle, and shuffled her up so that Bonnie was in the right position. “Good, now legs apart…” Bonnie was obedient, and lifted her knees as wide as they would go. “Good girl!” It took everything the little had to keep from springing out the room, but the sound of her lover’s voice, her gentle touch, the smooth nipple in her mouth and the tickle of Penny’s fur combined were enough to put her at ease. When the powder fell like snow between her legs and tickled her all the way around she became even smaller, to a place where words had no meaning. Warm tingles ran up her body and swirled behind her eyes. “You are such a good girl,” Claire whispered. “I know how hard this is for you, little one, but I am so proud of you for sharing this with me. I love you very, very, very much.” Bonnie grinned behind her pacifier. Tiny and vulnerable she was pure and loved. Nothing else existed in the world but her and her Mommy. The diaper closed around her, and the tapes held her tight, like a hug around her underside that kept her from falling. At last she was safe, and all was good in the world. She reached upward and let Penny slip out of her arms, opening and closing her hands in a desperate attempt to reach Claire. Her new Mommy hummed and pulled her upright, and into her arms. Then she gave her little one a kiss on her pacifier, prompting a giggle from them both. “Happy birthday, sweet girl,” she said. By then Bonnie’s shame had utterly evaporated. The two women shared a new language, and would hopefully indulge it again and again.

Repost of an old story of mine. A DIAPERED DECISION by Cute Kitten The panty was peach silk decorated with sprawling, thin grey branches and reddish-pink cherry blossoms, looking like it was made from the silken scraps of a Japanese kimono. Iris fingered the smooth, expensive material as she brought it closer to the scissors in her other hand. Her slim fingers pulled the scissors open and slid the dainty cloth between the metal. "This is really it. No going back. I want this." She froze before she could cut the panty. The panty, no longer her panty. "Not mine. Not anymore." She rubbed the silk some more. They felt like a stranger's panties, not her own. So thin, so substantial. No protection whatsoever. She needed protection now. The thick, absorbent padding swaddling her crotch had all the comfort of an old friend. She had, in a way, always needed diapers- emotionally at least, had always been drawn to them. From a child who used to steal towels out of the bathroom cupboard and shoved them down her pants to a young college woman who bought crappy, cheap grocery store diapers and smuggled them into her dorm. Her love of diapers had always been with her. The older she got, the more she wore them and the more a part of her life they became, a source of psychological comfort that helped her cope better with the stress in her life. Now a college graduate with the first job in her career and first apartment all to herself, she had taken a hard, long look at her life before making a major decision. Iris lowered the scissors from the panty and ran her fingers over the smooth plastic shell of her thick diaper. The crotch was warm with fresh urine. It felt right and natural. This was who she was, who she had always been- a girl who wanted, needed diapers. Panties felt awkward and wrong to her. Always had, so she made the decision to do something about it, to right that wrong. Warm wetness trickled into her already wet diaper and spread around her crotch. "No regrets." She smiled to herself. Diapers were her underwear, a portable potty strapped to her waist 24/7. She had turned her psychological need physical. She no longer wanted to wear diapers; she had to wear them, or she would end up with wet pants. For the last several months, Iris had been diaper training herself. It was not a decision made lightly. She knew what the consequences, both good and bad, were. But it felt so right, so complete, that she did not care. She'd deal with whatever the results were from something that helped her be more comfortable with herself. Diaper training was not easy. Diapers, especially the premium ones she ordered online, were not cheap. She had to keep herself shaved to fight odor and guard against rashes. She had to learn to listen to her body, struggle to keep her sphincter muscles relaxed, to just go whenever she felt the need, no matter her diapered or undiapered state or what she was doing. She had had to train herself to wet her diaper, getting comfortable in all positions and situations, even embarrassing ones. If her diaper was saturated to the point of leaking, she still had to wet, leaks in public be damned. The more she kept at it, the easier it got as she fought to undo her potty training. Iris had reached the point in her diaper training journey where she was now dependent on diapers. She only realized she was wetting once she started to go and felt the thick, absorbent material grow warm and wet as she peed herself like a baby. Peeing took her by surprise and her bladder capacity had shrunk. "When was the last time I even sat on a toilet? Or wore these?" Iris fingered the panties with one hand and rubbed her diaper with the other. She couldn't even remember the last time the skin of her derriere plunked down on the cold porcelain of a toilet. Now, that almost seemed unnatural. Her diapers had truly become a part of her. She should cut up the panties she hadn't worn in months to symbolize her determination to stay diapered. She stared down at the scissors laying at her side, then to the panties she still held. She put her feet through the leg holes, standing up then pulling the panties up over her legs. Her diaper crinkled as she moved. The bulky padding forced her legs apart. The silk of the panty stretched wide once it encountered the bulge of the diaper and her spread hips. She tugged the tiny panty up into place with a grunt. A small but noisy fart slipped out of her and she wondered if she was going to mess herself. Iris paused in her pulling to rub her stomach. She didn't feel like a bowel movement was imminent. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, chewing as she poked at her crinkly, padded backside. Still nice and dry, not wet or messy yet, though she knew soon enough that would change- that was just part of the new life she had chosen. She went back to tugging on the panties, compelled to put them on over her diaper. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to them, not just yet. She knew she should let go of them; she could never wear them. It was diapers and diapers only for her, yet a small part of her latched o to those panties and she could not figure out why. With another grunt and another fart, she yanked the panty into place over her bulging diaper and felt a small trickle of warmth spurt out as she stood fully up. She had paid quite a bit of money for the panties from some designer lingerie boutique. They were itty bitty hip huggers. Hardly anything to them; they barely fit over the bottom part of her enormous and monstrously thick diaper. Iris caught sight of herself in the full length bedroom mirror and giggled. "I look ridiculous." She stared down at the length of thick white padding bulging out of the tiny silk. Any normal woman would have felt ridiculous in the diaper, but Iris felt ludicrous in the panty. She ran her hands over the strange combination covering her private parts. The panty was soft and slick under her fingertips as she rubbed her crotch then her hand glided up. The diaper's plastic crinkled underneath her touch, calling to her. Her fingers skimmed over the smooth plastic, all the way up her belly until they hit into the rough tabs. She tapped the tabs, smiling down at her diaper and felt yet another tiny spurt of pee, as if her bladder was subconsciously affirming her choice. It seemed to dribble constantly so she was rarely dry anymore. She patted her wet diaper then shimmied the stretched-out panty off her slim legs and huge diaper. As she moved, the diaper crinkled loudly. Her heavily diaper-cream coated cheeks slid against each other and felt almost as if she'd messed herself. Iris stared down at the panty. "You aren't for me anymore, but you're still too pretty to cut." She knew she should cut up her drawer full of panties, to fully mentally commit to her diaper training, but try as she might, she just could not bring herself destroy them. They were from her old life, and she could no longer wear them….but they were like pretty souvenirs from a trip. She had willingly and happily moved to Diaper Island, but she still wanted a few mementos from her sojourn in Potty Land. She had already cleaned out her closet, getting rid of clothes that would no longer fit over her huge diapers. It was one of the first things she had done when she decided to make diapers her new underwear permanently. Her short shorts that easily showed off her diaper bulge, or skirts and dresses that were so short they showed off her diaper, all had gone to resale shops and charity. Gone too were her comfortable yet tight yoga pants, which showed off her butt in all its excessively padded glory. She had gone shopping for new, diaper-concealing pants, shorts, and dresses. All of which was also, inadvertently, more modest. "This was a waste of time." She shrugged and tossed the panty back into the cardboard box with her other panties. She saw no reason to cut them up- she was already committed to her diapered life. The wet diaper around her waist, the diaper cream and tons of sweet smelling baby powder were evidence enough of that. She put the lid back on the box and shoved it back under her bed, where she had placed it months ago when she started her diaper training. Then, she had tried to cut her old panties up and had not been able to do it. She hadn't been completely sure she would stick with her un-potty training and still had panties as a choice, wanted them as a safety net and back up plan. She had tried numerous times after that as her bladder grew weaker and weaker and she needed her diapers more and more. Now….Iris patted the front of her wet diaper. Now, she had no choice. Her old underwear were just pretty momentos. She had no regrets. The phone rang and she waddled off to answer it, thick diaper crinkling noisily all the way, the new soundtrack of her diapered life.

I love my cute little kitty. But she can be very bratty at times. “I WANT CHANGES RIGHT NOW!” she demanded with a huff. I turn to see her and I can't help but aww on the inside. Her cute red paw shirt and large fluffy diaper just made her so adorable! “Is my kitty all stinky?” I ask knowing the answer. “YES! NOW CHANGE ME!” she demanded and huffed some more. “Hey now, good kitties don't make demands,” I tell her. “I DONT CARE! CHANGE ME!” she demanded again and started stomping her foot. I walked over to her and decide to check how bad her diaper was. “This diaper is barely used. I think you can-”I start to tell her before she cuts me off. “NO! CHANGE! ME! NOW!” she demanded again and was stomping her foot even more. Now I was starting to get fed up. If she was going to be demanding a change so much, I'll give her one. Grabbing her hand I pull her into the bathroom where I start running a bath. “W-wait, n-no! I don't like water!” she yelled as I pull her to a changing mat on the ground. “You want a change, so I'm going to make you extra clean,” I tell her as I lay her down and remove the diaper. “And that means a bath.” “NOOO!” she whines as she starts kicking her legs in frustration. I have to hold them down but I get her cleaned up just as the tub is filled. Striping her of her shirt I pick her up and get ready to put her into the tube but find it hard as she starts kicking and whining about not wanting to go into the water and making it hard to put her in. So I do the one thing I know will calm her down for a moment. I give her a kiss on the nose. At that moment she stops fighting out of embarrassment I dunk her into the water. “NO FAIR!” she yells out. Now that she’s in the tub, I thoroughly clean every inch of her. All the while she is meowing in protest as I splash her with water. Once I'm satisfied with her being clean I drain the water and wrap my little kitty in a fluffy towel and start drying her off. Taking her by the hand, I lead her to the couch where I set a new diaper and shirt down. “Ok, you ready for your change?” I ask. She nods but is surprised when I pull her over my lap. “W-what are you-” she starts. SMACK! “NYAN!” she cries out. “You've been a bad kitty. Always demanding.” I tell her. *SMACK! I hear her nyan again. “And bad kitties need a spanking to make them good.” SMACK! “NYAN! I-i sowry!” she whines as tears come out. Her bottom was red and she was in tears so I decided to leave it here and finally put her diaper and shirt on her. My little kitty is sniffing and rubbing her bottom as I pull her onto my lap for a hug. “Will you be a good kitty now?” I ask her. “N-nyan” she meowed as a yes as I kiss her and rub her head. It isn't long before she’s calmed down and purring as I give her attention. I love my cute little kitty. _______________________________________ this short piece is for theowlcan and his caption contest for DeviantArt. art belongs to theowlcan but the story is from me. before anyone says anything, I know this is Nia from Xenoblade Chronicles. but I know next to nothing about her character so for the sake of the story, she's just a generic cat girl. hope you all like and I hope this gets me into the top 5! ^.^ also, please check out theowlcan and his original art.