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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.