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*Edit: I've been a reader for a long time, and around this time last year I decided to start writing ABDL stories to eventually post. There was a bit of a learning curve, I wrote a few stories that failed for various reasons, but it was important to me to post a story that was finished. I started working on Without Merit in October. It's around 30 chapters long, and I'm wrapping up the final chapters as of the posting of Chapter 1. I'm really proud of the results, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading. All characters are over 18. Story contains sexual content. ................ About Lovington Lovington is somewhere in middle America, a place where the highways give away into county roads, where franchises are few and far between. That's not to say that it's a backwater, Lovington is exactly as pristine as the American dream, and as common as ice cream with an apple pie. It's a typical American small town with a small shopping mall, a local cinema, its main street is main street. The people are kind, generous and almost as bland as the town itself. A town that blends into the area, that isn't even a blip on the map. It's always out of everyone's mind, and the people of Lovington like it that way. There is nothing suspicious about Lovington, that's why it was a great location for a secret laboratory. All the while, this laboratory in Lovington ran along, melting budgets with no real breakthroughs — then one day, there was one. They finally opened a door and only one thing came out before it closed again: the cube. 0 Boredom is its own kind of inspiration. It was well established among the teenagers that the small town of Lovington was boring, nothing ever happened here. Even as it was happening. However, the strange place had plenty of inspiration to share with everyone. A quiet influence swam throughout the city like an invisible fog, a feeling that something was moving behind the curtain, a feeling not everyone noticed or that anyone could shake. The Hartmann house was a three story affair, if you count the game room in the basement. The below ground man cave was wall to wall in wood paneling, a throwback from the 1980s when that was in fashion. The three girls inside looked as bored as the decor, draped on the pair of couches and the single creaky, padded lazy boy chair. Katie Nguyen lounged on the shorter couch, her long athletic legs hung over the other end of the sofa. Charity Brown held a pillow across her chest and was the only one watching the box shaped tv. Marisa Hartmann rested in the giant chair, swiping through selfie filters until she found one good enough to post. "Men are so easy,” Charity sighed. "I think you mean boys are easy, there aren't any men that go to our school," Marisa clarified. She lifted her phone above her head to take another semi-down the shirt selfie. “Nothing but immature boys,” Katie added. All three girls nodded in agreement before going back to whatever they were doing, but Charity wasn't ready to let this drop. There was something bothering her, and she had no idea how to express her feelings. So she complained to her friends until they helped her figure herself out. Being a teenager was strange. "It’s so annoying because it's so lame,” Charity continued. “I’m over being romanced, getting flowers, and getting bored again.” “Sounds like you need to get laid,” Marisa said with a grin. Katie raised an eyebrow in consideration to Charity, who still stared blankly at the tv screen. “I can get laid, that’s not the problem and you both know it,” Charity argued. “We both know that you’re an easy slut?” Marisa prodded. “Ha ha, very funny.” Charity rolled her eyes. They were close enough friends to let this joke pass, but no self respecting girl liked being called a slut. Charity was mostly self respecting, at least to those who didn’t truly know her. It was fine that she liked sex, and not just the regular sex that she could get from almost any boy at the school. Charity liked weird sex, like back page experimental Cosmo magazine stuff; she found herself bored too easily, like she was right now in the retro game room at Marisa’s. And when she was bored, she thought about sex. The lithe blonde cheerleader sat up and threw the lifeless pillow into the opposite corner of the couch, preparing to get on her soapbox. The commotion was dramatic enough for Marisa to actually get off the phone and actually pay attention to her. “No, think about it, Mars. You and I both know we can get whatever we ask for from just about anyone. We can get in the backseat from a football player, or in the bathroom between classes from the weird/moody, silent kid. If we want an older guy, we’d just troll a bar with a fake ID; but we’re so pretty we wouldn’t even need one. I bet that we could even bag a teacher, like even a married one. Don’t you think that’s boring?” Katie blushed furiously as Marisa considered her words. For a typical blonde, Charity made a good point every now and then. However, Marisa wanted to see where Charity was planning on going with this, and also she wanted to see just how red Katie’s face could get from embarrassment. Charity wasn’t wrong, but she over-calculated just how horny Marisa actually was. It’d be cool and all to get caught up in a whirlwind romance with an older guy, or married man. That being said, she wasn’t one to open her legs at the drop of a hat like Charity. “So what’s your point?” Marisa asked. “I’m not trying to make a point, I’m just saying I’m bored,” Charity said. The cheerleader went back to flipping between channels with an ancient tv remote with tape wrapped around the battery pack. It was Marisa’s turn to not let things go, if something was bothering her friend, she’d at least want to know the cause, it was her game room after all. “Alright, if you’re that bored you should move onto threesomes and gangbangs. You know your way to the boys locker room, you’ve done it in their showers before, right?” Katie choked. “You’ve been in the boy’s locker room?” “Shut up virgin!” Charity snickered. It was an A and B conversation and Katie needed to C her way out. Katie’s virginity was well-renowned in her circle of friends. She was the athletic type, more interested in good grades and Martial Arts tournaments than dating. It wasn’t that she was ugly, quite the opposite. Katie was tall with almond shaped eyes and well defined muscles. Her honor student lifestyle, addiction to Tae Kwon Do, and most importantly her old fashioned Asian parents, did not allow the quick hook-ups like other girls her age. “I’m just saying I want something different, a kinky relationship without the banging — like fifty shades or something.” Charity tapped the remote against her chin. “I love that movie,” Katie quipped. Virgins just didn’t know when to shut up. Marisa decided it was time to give some sort of advice, Katie was getting no where with Charity. “So why don’t you find a billionaire to tie you up and spank you?” Marisa asked. “Who said I won’t be the one doing the spanking?” Marisa laughed, Katie blushed, but Charity was still deep in thought. They were at some sort of impasse, and she had no idea what she even wanted to hear. She was bored, kinda horny, and she wanted to play a game. The idea of being the ‘spanker’ was just a quick comeback to her friend, but Charity found it intriguing and worth a second thought. “I think we’re onto something, about the whole school being boys not men and whatnot. Wouldn’t it be kinky to be in charge of a boy like we were cougars? We could put them under our control, and force them to satisfy even our nastiest fantasies. I mean, really push the envelope.” “So what did you have in mind?” Marisa purred. She could be classically sexy when she wanted. Marisa was one of those girls that woke up perfect, olive colored skin came without the tanning bed, she had long eyelashes and barely had to apply any makeup at all because being beautiful just came naturally to her. Just like her former actress, supermodel mom. “I don’t know, maybe it will come to me,” Charity said. Still nothing came to her except a hot, churning feeling nestled between her legs. She felt the need to squeeze her thighs together, then do it again — harder. Charity softly bit her lip as she hungrily watched television. Maybe she did just need to get laid. That was when she saw the commercial that gave her the idea. At first, Charity wanted to laugh so she covered her mouth. Then she had to stifle something else, a moan. This was naughty, way naughtier than anything she’d ever thought about before. By far the naughtiest daydream while watching television. Charity flashed Marisa a wicked grin from the couch prompting her to say something. “Alright Chars, what’s on your dirty mind?” Charity crawled from the couch to whisper in her friend’s ear. Her words lost to those outside her cupped hand, but Katie tried to figure out what she was saying by watching their faces. The curiosity was killing her, she hated being left out and this felt super juicy. Marisa started off looking a little confused, then she frowned, and then she laughed. It wasn’t until Charity finished her sales pitch that Marisa featured the same wonton look as her friend. Marisa asked, “Is that really a thing?” “It totally is, I read about it online months ago,” Charity answered. “What kind of guy would even allow you to do that to him?” Charity raised her eyebrows and gave Marisa a knowing look. They were the best of friends, almost at mind reader level. “You know you already have a boy wrapped around your finger,” said the blonde cheerleader. It was Marisa’s turn to blush, she knew just who Charity was talking about. He was cute but not boyfriend material, safely tucked away in the friend zone where he belonged. At the same time, the cheerleader was right about him being wrapped around her finger, but that didn’t mean he’d be into the craziness Charity was proposing. However, Marisa was intrigued by this erotically charged challenge, how far would a boy go to please them? Especially a pushover like him. Marisa asked, “Just how —?” “We could condition him like a Pavlov dog, get him hungry with every ring of the bell. With our feminine wiles we could have him jumping through hoops in no time. Just think of it as a makeover, but with a twist." The two girls laughed as the commercial continued on just in front of them. Katie was officially out of the loop, her eyes jumping from the giggling girls and the television trying to deduct what she was missing. She'd had enough of waiting, so she stood from the couch. “What are you guys talking about? And what does that have to do with Pampers?” …. 1 “No way!” That’s what Adam wanted to say when Marisa invited him to her lake house for the four day weekend. It had to be a prank or something, why would a popular girl want to spend time with a pipsqueak like himself? This was beyond the pale of believability, and it had a dreamlike quality that could just be pinched away. Sure, they shared a few classes together throughout their time in high school. He often helped her with her homework, which actually meant he did it himself, but that was always the plight of smart guys with pretty girls. The closest the two got was when Marisa played the role of his mom in the school play, 'Mother Knows Best'. However, those connections were hardly the means to be invited to a lake house. When he thought about it, he wasn't even sure they were friends, and he had expected her to disown him at her earliest convenience. Marisa was so far out of his league that they weren't even playing the same sport. She looked like a trending movie star, had the etiquette of a princess, and she practically ran the school with her personality alone. As for her body, her mom was some kind of bikini model, and the apple didn’t fall too far from the scantily-clad tree. Marisa often wore short shorts to show off her long legs and halter tops to show off her naturally tan skin. Her hair was the color of honey and caramel, finding a soft niche between blonde and brunette. She was also homecoming queen as if there was any doubt. Adam asked, "Why me?" Marisa didn’t give him an answer, she just giggled. He agreed to go anyways, but that was before he found out that Charity and Katie were going as well. Now, he would be the only boy in a lake house with three of the hottest girls in his grade. "No way!" That’s what his friends all said when he told them how he was planning to spend his weekend. They worshipped him like he’d pulled off the impossible, like he’d found the holy grail. Jerry joked, "Hold on, wasn't Marisa the one who was your mom in the play -- wouldn’t that make her a MILF?” There was plenty of laughter and high fives to go around, they all told jokes at his expense. Adam regretted letting his plans slip. When they realized that he was telling the truth, his entire table had a bit of an overreaction. His friends turned into howler monkeys — bouncing around the table, banging their chests with their hands, and victoriously pumping their fists into the air. They fantasized and strategized on how he could bed all three girls, maybe at the same time. The commotion caused the whole cafeteria to stare, and that made Adam want to disappear. Out of all his nerdy friends, Jeremy typically razzed on him the most. He was a self-proclaimed love expert, and even he looked borderline jealous of Adam. He reminded him that this was how pornos started, 'hot chicks with a helpless geek'. They surrounded Adam in a makeshift football huddle around the table, game planning what his next move should be, and how he should best handle this 'opportunity'. His mom would probably complain about all of the locker room talk, but Adam was happy that his mom wasn't there to hear what was being said. He kept his hands over his face to hide his blushing cheeks. He let out a couple of nervous laughs to play off his unease, but he didn't touch his lunch. Good things weren’t supposed to happen to the wallflower, the outcast. There comes a time in everyone’s life where they evaluate themselves against the hopeless backdrop of their peers — a measurement of deviation from normalcy. It didn’t take long for Adam to see how different he was from most eighteen year olds. He was short and scrawny, and small enough to still shop in the kids section. Adam never had to shave, even the freshmen had stubble. It was like the puberty fairy forgot to sprinkle dust on him while he slept. He even played the cute little kid in the school play. Everyone laughed at the jokes, they coo’ed and aww’ed at him, all the while he was a senior in high school. He wasn't bad looking, both his mom and grandma said he was handsome. That’s two women spanning two generations, that had to count for something, right? Adam was shy and struggled to talk to girls, he was a virgin and never had a girlfriend because he was afraid if he asked they’d say -- “No way!” Okay, he was better with girls than he gave himself credit. Jeremy often marveled at how well he did with the opposite sex despite being so clueless. He was the opposite of Adam, Jeremy kept up with the latest fashions, dressed the part and quoted GQ like it was scripture. His reputation for unsuccessfully chasing skirt, and his palpable desperation, led to him turning off every girl at school. However, he still lectured Adam almost daily in how to get girls. Just like he was doing now. Jeremy advised, “You’ve got to have the confidence to be yourself if you want to seal the deal.” The irony was not lost on Adam; he did his best to ignore him, he didn’t want to be the one to burst his friend’s bubble. Adam just looked at things differently, his friends all changed as they grew older — everyone except Adam. Friday nights were no longer about pizza and late night video game sessions, there were no more nerf wars with walkie-talkies in the woods; now, all his crew cared about was getting laid. Adam wasn’t like them. He still played with action figures, watched cartoons and he loved wearing his Pokémon shirts to school. Like Ash Ketchum, Pokémon was timeless. It’s not like he wasn’t interested in girls, his life didn't revolve around hooking up. The situation at school didn't help matters, he was prime pickings for a lot of random harassment from his female classmates. When he walked down the halls, he got his hair ruffled, butt goosed, a couple of times he was even carried off by a pack of giggling girls. It wasn't anything sexual, it was just how they'd flirt with a senior that looked like an 8th grader. They also gave him kindly nicknames, calling him 'squirt', 'honey', 'baby'. They treated him like a kid brother, not potential boyfriend material. “No way!” That’s what Adam thought his mom would say when he asked her if he could spend the weekend at a lake house with three girls. This wouldn't pass her puritanical smell test for sure. However, she surprised him with the biggest smile and a sincere happy mommy hug. Adam still got those at eighteen. Then she asked, “Honey, do we need to talk about safe sex?” “No way!” Adam wanted to scream, but he just shook his head. She did so anyways, for an entirely painful 30 minutes, Adam never wanted to hear about the birds and bees ever again. The following day he found a box of condoms on his pillow, a gift from mom. How come everyone was viewing this lake house invitation as a VIP ticket to orgyville? Of course he knew of all three girls, they were school-wide royalty with perfect hair and perfect bodies to match. Cool seemed to always stick with them and change with them like seasons. They were the unapologetic trend setters, who all girls wanted to be and whom all boys wanted to be with. Charity was a blonde, everyone knows the type, a cliche valley girl that began each sentence with OMG and spelled out LOL instead of laughing. Her clothes were expensive but always bought on sale. She wasn’t really rude, she just tried really hard to make it seem like she didn’t care. Adam knew for a fact that she did, back in sophomore year, she stopped a few members of the football team from putting him in a locker. She had a reputation as a girl that went all the way, which meant as much to Adam as the weather on the moon. Katie was more of a mystery. The Asian girl was a blackbelt in TaeKwonDo, genuinely polite and caring. Her GPA was through the roof, and she won an award in just about everything she did. Her intelligence was just as intimidating as her muscles, she was athletic and quick to solve a math problem. As far as Adam knew, she never had a boyfriend. It seemed like the dating scene passed by them both. The boys at his table had different ways to describe the girls, they made hand gestures regarding their curves, they kissed at the air like lovesick fools. Jeremy asked, "So you're going to film this right? You're going to make an epic porno." "Um... No way," muttered Adam. This would not end in sex, he thought to himself. However, there was a secret in the duffle bag cradled between his feet. Safely tucked away in a sock was the box of condoms his mother had bought him. There was no way that he'd put anything on video, even though the thought did excite him a bit. That'd be one way to get back at Jeremy for razzing him about his virginity for the last four years. Adam looked around to see his support group had turned on him, no longer regarding him as the king of the table, only as the loser who wouldn't give them what they wanted. The energy deflated like a worn balloon. Adam hated himself for telling them his weekend plans, but he also hated disappointing them. So he did what all cowards did, he gave in. "Okay, fine. If anything happens I'll try to catch it on video." Adam expected them to cheer, chant his name, and carry him around the cafeteria, but they all fell silent. Their eyes went wide, their jaws dropped open with shocked expressions on their faces, he was surprised by the effect his words had on them. He was even more surprised to hear Marisa's voice come from behind him. “What do you plan to catch on video?” Adam felt the dual sensation of panic and humiliation when he wondered just how much she had heard. The world reeled in slow motion as he turned from the table to see not only Marisa, but Charity and Katie as well. They all had the same look on their faces, the same kind that his mom had when he did something bad. He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, he had no idea what to say, so he nervously chuckled while looking to his friends for help. Jeremy turned his back on him, whistling like he had nothing to do with operation Amatuer Pornstar. It looked like Adam was already on his own, some group of friends that he had. "I was hoping to make a nature video. You know, of the animals around the lake." A surprising solid 3 star save in the clutch! Right on cue, the boys around him nodded in agreement, someone muttered something about squirrels. It looked like everyone believed Adam except for the three girls. Katie crossed her muscular arms, Charity rolled her eyes, and Marisa had her hands on her hips as if to say: "No way..." "I'm sure you care all about the wildlife," Charity groaned. She had plenty of experience with bad boyfriends and could sniff out a masculine lie like a bloodhound. Marisa seemed the quickest to shrug it off. "My mom just pulled up, are you all packed and ready for our trip?" Jealousy emanated from his friends as they left the boys at the table. The ones who were about to throw a parade in his honor were now giving him sideways glances like he was the first one to shout bingo in a room full of grannies. He was no longer wanted at this table, and he was pretty certain that he wouldn't be until he came back with a scandalous video. That probably wouldn't happen, because despite the peer pressure, Adam still thought that it was a bad idea. Katie asked, "Are you excited?" The taller girl slugged him in the arm, harder than she probably intended, she was a black belt after all. He managed to nod back at her. Adam was not a fan of small talk, and he had to stop himself from throwing up when he opened his mouth. He said something that sounded like 'yeah', but it was more of a grunt than a word, so he cleared his throat and said it again. It still came out as a mumbling mess. The hallway to the car seemed to go on forever, how was he supposed to talk to these girls this weekend? Adam wanted to open up, shake off the shyness, but he was still a mumbling, bumbling idiot. Two conflicting thoughts battled in his mind as he shuffled in silence. The first, that his friends were wrong, and this wouldn’t be some sort of sexy party with a wild romp with these girls. This was highly likely, and the most probable outcome, but some leftover mystery still lingered — what if they were right? What if he was heading into a trap where these girls would bang him all weekend? It sounded like a fantasy, but it made him want to throw up. Both thoughts were equally nerve racking, and he couldn’t think of anything else. Marisa put her arm around him and shook him awake. "Come on, Adam. We're going to have a great time this weekend. We've been looking forward to hanging out with you, so there's no need to be nervous." He melted a little bit when she flashed a smile at him. "We're going to have LOADS of fun,” Charity giggled. There was a red luxury SUV in the parking lot, a beautiful woman leaned against the passenger side door like a Bond girl. Her long blonde hair swayed in the wind, same as her loose fitting turquoise summer dress that looked like it was ripped straight from a fashion magazine. She looked like she was high maintenance but worth every penny. Marisa pointed to her. "It looks like my mom is here. Adam, why don't you say hello while we load up all the bags in the back?" "No Way!" Is what Adam thought when he saw Marisa's mom for the first time. Jeremy liked to use the word MILF to describe any woman over the age of thirty, but that's the exact way Adam would describe her. She had aged out of pretty but matured into beautiful. The nerves rose up again, and he chose to look at his feet rather than make eye contact with her. He wanted to snap out of it, say something witty or polite, but he just walked in front of her and stood there expectantly. Like a mute. Mrs. Hartmann leaned down and ruffled his shaggy brown hair. "So you're this Adam that Marisa keeps talking about. I recognize you from the play, you look a little bit older when you're not wearing a sailor suit." A bit puzzled, Adam looked down at his Pikachu t-shirt and khaki shorts, then remembered what he wore for the play. Yes, he wore a sailor suit to make him look more like a kid. As if his genes didn’t do that enough already. “Yeah, those aren’t my regular clothes,” Adam mumbled. "I'm sure they weren't, but you did look so cute. I'd say that you were the audience's second favorite, and you memorized your lines so well. We were so proud of you, weren't we Marisa?" "We sure were," Marisa commented as she circled around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat. The hot mom extended her hand to shake his, Adam just meekly put his hands in hers. "My name is Lindsey Hartmann, and I'll be your driver today. You better be on your best behavior, I won't hesitate to give you a firm smack on the behind if you get out of line with any of these girls." Adam couldn't tell if she was joking or not, she was as difficult to read as Shakespeare with a stutter. However, he didn't like the sound of being spanked at all. There was something so demeaning and childish about that particular punishment. Adam had an active imagination. In his mind he saw himself draped over her lap — and he stopped himself from thinking about it even further because his face was turning pink. Marisa rolled down the window. “Aren't you going to join us?" Everyone was already inside the car by the time Adam recovered. He opened the door to the back seat to find Katie and Charity already comfortable and watching him expectantly. He stepped inside only to find a pink booster seat in the last open spot. Not only was it pink, it was a princess themed toddler chair covered with glittering magic wands, butterflies and fairy wings. A large sparkling tiara featured prominently where his butt would be. He wanted to say so bad — "No Way!" Really? Were they expecting him to sit in a chair for toddlers? Adam fumbled around the back of the booster looking for a way to pull it off the seat so he could actually sit down. It was tied to the backseat by some force beyond science, he certainly couldn't figure out where. Adam pulled and jerked at the chair while the whole car watched him make a fool out of himself. "Is there a problem?" Marisa asked from the front. "No, I'm just trying to move this car seat so I can sit down," Adam answered. "Could you do me a big favor and just deal with it this time?" Marisa asked politely. "We put the seat in for my baby cousin, and it was a real hassle that we do not want to do again. My mom is planning on taking her to the zoo next week." Marisa had a way of making Adam do whatever she wanted, the magic formula was her good looks and powerful charisma with a dash of his lack of backbone. She could easily put him under her spell. He felt helpless to her words; then again, a car seat was a car seat. Lines had to be drawn somewhere. Adam complained, "I don't think I'd even fit, I'm not a little kid." There the chair sat, its intentions evil to the core, and Adam wasn't planning on sitting in it — that was until Charity slapped the seat with her hand, which startled him. She didn't have to say a word, she just gave him a look. He was beginning to hate these girls and their looks. But once again like a coward, he gave in. He climbed into the car seat without any more protest. The arms on the booster were snug around his waist, but besides that, he did fit. Adam frowned when he did. Marisa snaked her hand from around the front seat and gave his thigh a squeeze. "And you thought you were too big," Marisa laughed. "Well, I —“ Lindsey interrupted, "Aren't you going to buckle up?" Adam desperately wanted to argue, say something about being an adult, but everything around him seemed to move too fast. In a flash, Charity deftly pulled the seat belt over him, her hands sliding uncomfortably through his comfort space, barely above his no-no zone, but the boy was flabbergasted already. Too many girls, too little of space, and princess themed car seats had a way of getting to someone. "Alright, he's locked up tight. Let's get this show on the road," Charity announced.

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding This one actually comes from an ABDL web-zine we worked on, starring 22 talented writers and artists! You can download it for free at: https://princessmolly.gumroad.com/l/nursery-warp-2021 The illustration at the end of the story is by JuiceBox! Check him out on Patreon at: www.patreon.com/JuiceBoxArt -------------------------- Lost in Translation Written by Sophie & Pudding Translations by Lilyblax Illustration by JuiceBox Premise: Grace Gardener travels to France to visit her old crush, Violette. Resolute in her plans to tell Violette how she feels, Grace is constantly stymied by unexpected foreign customs. Will Grace be able to admit her feelings in time, or will she become Violette’s little girl instead? Disclaimers: diapers, wetting, messing, French -------------------------- "Here's you go, Miss Gardner." The flight attendant passed me a pillow with a bright smile. Every time she looked at me, she seemed particularly happy. Or maybe that's just what you pay for when you buy first class. I settled back in my chair and tucked the pillow under my head. Outside the little window, the sky was the darkest blue and the moon was the brightest white. I couldn't see the ocean beneath the clouds, but I knew it was there; there's not much else between New York and France. I'd never been outside the United States before, but I couldn't turn Violette down when she asked me to visit. Violette and I had been best friends all through high school, but she went back to Paris for college. After she graduated, she moved around a lot until she settled in a French city that I would embarrass myself trying to pronounce. In high school, I had a huge crush on Violette. She was unwavering in her optimism and unfettered in her confidence. She made me do things I would never do on my own, things I haven’t done since. But even as we said our goodbyes, I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I closed my eyes and let the hum of the airplane lull me to sleep. When I woke up, the sun was pouring in through the little window and an overhead voice was addressing the cabin: "Nous allons commencer notre descente dans quelques instants." I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the seat just as the pretty flight attendant appeared at my side. "Good morning, Grace," she said with that same bright smile. "We will be landing shortly, so let's get you all buckled up." Unexpectedly, the flight attendant bent down on one knee - so we were the same height - and pulled the seat belt over my lap. She clicked it shut and pulled the strap tight. Then, as she stood back up, she patted me on the top of my head. I stared incredulously as she walked down the aisle. "That was weird," I muttered to myself. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Before I was fully awake, the plane began to lilt forward and dip into the clouds. I pressed my forehead to the window to see the vast, grassy hills as they emerged from the fog. A small city grew ever closer, until I could see cars on the streets and people on the sidewalks. With a jolt, the plane landed on the runway and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn't even realize I'd been holding my breath. People all around me started to get up and gather their bags. I pulled at the seat belt around my waist, but I couldn't figure out how to unlatch it. Maybe it had a lock or something? The cute flight attendant passed by and I reached out to get her attention. "Excuse me. How do I unbuckle this?" "Be patient, Grace," she smiled. "I'll help you after the rest of the passengers are through." "But..." I tried to protest, but the flight attendant was addressing the crowded aisle in French. I sunk into my seat and pouted. I guess I didn't have a choice, did I? I watched as families and businessmen walked past me. Sometimes they would look at me and smile. Sometimes they would wave. A few women would speak to me, but I didn't understand what they were saying, so I would smile and nod. I could have sworn most of the passengers spoke English before we left. While I waited, I fished around my bag for my English to French phrasebook. I'd been studying it all summer, but I suddenly couldn’t remember a single one. Maybe I just needed a quick refresher. "Grace?" I looked up from my book at the flight attendant. Everyone else had left the plane. "What are you reading, hm?" "I... uh. I'm just trying to remember some phrases," I stammered. "Oh? Do you have a favorite one?" I started to notice her sunny disposition could be taken as condescension. "No," I muttered, looking at the cover of the book. I'd just reviewed ten different phrases, but I couldn’t remember any of them. "That's okay, honey," she said. "It's hard to learn new words." I sulked at the implication. Effortlessly, the flight attendant reached down, unbuckled my seat belt, and helped me to my feet. My legs felt a little wobbly after sitting for so long and she had to hold me up until I caught my balance. "Do you need a, um..." The flight attendant paused to think of the word, as though she didn't speak perfect English. "Push chair?" "No, I'm alright." I didn't want to be in a wheelchair the first time Violette saw me in five years. I was trying to make a good impression! "Okay then. Follow me." The attractive, condescending woman - was I just describing French women in general? - led me off the plane, holding me by the hand in a way that was altogether inappropriate. Was this a cultural thing? It had to be a cultural thing. But after we entered the airport and the flight attendant let go of my hand, I was overwhelmed with longing. My hand hadn’t been held like that in a while. “Vois-tu ta maman quelque part?" she asked. I stared blankly at the flight attendant. "Is someone meeting you?" she asked in English. "Oh, um. My friend Violette. She’s a little shorter than me, with blue-green hair." I looked around for signs of my friend, but the flight attendant took me by the hand once again. We were halfway down the terminal when I caught sight of Violette's teal tips. She always dyed the ends of her long, wavy hair. I thought she would get over it after high school, but she still sent me pictures each time she picked a new color. "Violette!" I shouted, waving my free arm. I managed to pull my hand out of the flight attendant's and run a dozen or so feet down until my arms were around Violette. She smelled like cinnamon and snowy mornings. I melted into her like chocolate fondue. "Gracie, je pensais que tu t'étais perdue!" she laughed. I didn't know what she said exactly, but it was wonderful to hear her voice. After the hug, I looked up at her with a touch of confusion. "You’re taller," I realized, at least a few inches taller than me. I checked her shoes, but she wasn’t wearing heels. "Ou alors tu as rétréci," Violette said. Then she turned to the flight attendant and started a conversation in French. I tried to wait my turn, but the longer it went on the sillier I felt. I couldn’t understand a single word… I tugged Violette’s sleeve to get her attention. "I'm so sorry, my darling," Violette apologized after looking at my expression. "I know those words are hard for you, and you must be oh-so-tired after your long trip.” She kissed the flight attendant on the cheek, which made me a little jealous. Then Violette took my hand in hers to led me to the baggage claim. "I slept on the flight," I explained as we walked. "And you don't have to..." Hold my hand? I'd longed for her to hold my hand for years, so why was I going to complain? I decided to stay quiet instead, a blush on my cheeks. "You're going to love it here," Violette said in a dreamy voice, pulling me along by the hand. I was having trouble keeping up with her and my legs still tingled from the flight. Every few sentences, Violette would slip into French and I would lose her train of thought. When we got to the baggage claim, there was only one bag left: a pink one with cartoons on the front. Violette went to grab it but I pulled her back. "My bag is green," I told her. "It's the same one we took on our camping trips." Violette tilted her head and said, "This is the one we took on our camping trips, you silly little sweetroll." "What? No, mine’s green…” Despite my protest, Violette grabbed the bag and read the tag out loud: "Petite Madame Gracie May Gardner." I narrowed my eyes and pushed in front of her to read the tag myself, but the words... they didn't make any sense. Maybe they were in French? That made sense, right? But why would my name be on a bag that wasn’t even mine? Unless... "Could the airline have switched my stuff to a different bag?" Maybe there was a problem with my suitcase and this was the only one available. But Violette didn’t seem to care about the luggage mystery. "Come now, Gracie." Violette pulled me along in one hand and pulled the rolling suitcase along in the other. I followed her halfway across the room before I was out of breath. I pulled on her hand until she stopped. "I need to sit down for a minute, Vi. My legs are killing me..." Thankfully, there was a bench only a few steps away. Airports were notorious for sitting space. "Je devrais peut-être trouver une poussette," Violette mused, looking around the open baggage lobby. I sat on the bench and pouted. "I can't understand you when you speak like that," I told her sharply, with as much assertiveness as I could muster. "And why are you calling me Gracie?" "Quel autre surnom pourrais-je te donner, princesse?" she said, still speaking French and glancing around the room. “English, please. I don't understand it when you—" "Ah!" Whatever Violette was looking for, she seemed to find it. She ran off with all the whimsy of a woodland sprite and I was left alone with the pink suitcase. I spoke quietly to myself: "I can't tell if this is going well or not..." I took a moment to look around the airport; I could hear the sounds of cars outside and the chatter of people, but none of them were saying words I could understand. Even the words written above the baggage claim or the signs at the help desk were gibberish to me. I felt like a stranger in this world, and when Violette came back pushing a giant stroller I was sure that was the case. "What the fuck is that?" I demanded. "C'est une poussette pour une princesse qui a fait un très long vol." I didn't understand her, but the question was rhetorical. It was a baby stroller, but it looked like it was sized for an adult. The metal was painted pink and the cushion was decorated with little cartoon princesses. Even the buckle and harness were bigger, easily enough to accommodate a fully grown woman. How did something like this even exist?! Then I realized why she had brought it over in the first place. "No," I said seriously. "No way." "Gracie." "No!" I shouted a little louder. "I’m not getting in a stroller!" A few people nearby turned their heads to look at me and I felt sick with embarrassment. "The car is parked very far away," Violette said. "At least twenty minutes walk." I hesitated. A twenty minute walk? I could barely make it to the baggage claim, and my legs weren't feeling any better. "Maintenant, sois une gentille petite fille—" Violette began, but I cut her off with one loud word: "English!" "You aren't going to learn any adult words if I keep speaking to you like a baby," Violette said harshly. A few more people turned to look at us and I sunk into the bench in shame. Violette had never spoken to me like that before… "I don't know what you're so upset about," Violette sighed, softening her tone. "Why do you think the airport has these? It's normal." I looked at the oversized stroller. Normal? I had never heard of adult strollers in France before... but why else would it be in the airport? I put my thumb to my mouth and bit nervously on my nail. "You're sure?" I muttered. "Tout à fait normal pour les filles de ton âge," Violette nodded. "Monte." With a bit of difficulty and a lot of reluctance, I climbed into the giant stroller. Violette buckled me in and I leaned back as far as I could to hide myself. This was so humiliating. Violette pushed the stroller through the baggage claim and outside to the parking lot. I kept waiting for someone to laugh or point at me, but even as dozens of people passed, no one gave me more than a cursory smile or a pleasant wave. Out of courtesy, I would sometimes wave back. Was this really normal? True to Violette's assessment, the car was parked a full twenty minutes walk away - a distance that now, in retrospect, I knew I couldn't have walked on my own. How ordinary was it to feel so weak after a long flight? What did people call it? Jetlag? Yeah, that had to be it. There was a brief flash as Violette took a surprise photo of me and I opened my mouth to protest. "Cela fera une belle couverture pour notre scrapbook!" she said. "Violette..." I actually sounded whiny. "This kind of thing may be normal in France, but you have to ask before you take my picture in a baby stroller." "Ne fais pas d'histoires. Je vais prendre plein de photos de toi et de tes nouveaux amis. Des amis français." I pouted. She wasn't going to stop this French nonsense, was she? But maybe she was right: maybe this was the best way I could learn the language. As Violette packed my suitcase into the trunk of her car, I fumbled with the buckle on the stroller. But no matter how I tugged or twisted or pulled, I couldn't seem to free myself. By the time Violette came over, I was red with irritation. "It's stuck! This stupid thing... I swear all the buckles in this stupid country—" Violette pushed my hands away and clicked open the buckle on her first try. I looked up at her with red cheeks as my frustration turned to embarrassment. How did she… but she lived here. Of course she had experience with this stuff. Right? "Monte, Gracie." Violette held open the door to the back of the car rather than the passenger seat, clicking her tongue impatiently. I rolled my eyes and climbed into the car. There was a car seat strapped in one of the seats. That was weird; Violette didn’t have any kids. I sat next to it and - before I could even find the seatbelt - Violette clicked her tongue again in disapproval. "In the car seat, silly," she explained in English. "I… what?" I stared dumbfounded. This had to be a joke… "It’s the law, Gracie," Violette said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. No way that was true. Americans had to sit in car seats? She was taking this too far! "Vi, this is stupid…" I muttered, looking at the huge car seat beside me. It was definitely big enough to fit an adult and I was starting to notice a trend. I didn’t remember reading anything about this online, and I’d done a lot of research on French customs. But all those people we walked past in the airport… there was no way they were acting. "We can’t leave until you get in," Violette said. "So unless you want to live in this parking lot…" I glared up at her, but her confidence was unshakable. I knew Violette; she would wait here until the end of time if she was trying to prove a point. At least the car seat was in the privacy of her car - it was much less embarrassing than the stroller. "I still think this is stupid," I muttered, lifting myself into the carseat with deep annoyance. "You're American," Violette giggled. "You think everything is stupid." Violette wasted no time reaching down into the car and strapping me in. Another buckle I didn't understand. Once again, I was trapped. Violette put the car in Drive and turned to look at me. A warm smile spread across her face. "Tu vas être si mignonne quand nous rentrerons à la maison. Une jolie couche, une jolie robe, des nattes. Mon Dieu." "Based on your tone," I muttered, trying to close my legs with the buckle pulled between them, "it sounds like you’re flirting with me." "Very good, Gracie!" I stared incredulously into her rear-view mirror, catching sight of her smile as she said those words. Violette was actually flirting with me? I bit my lip and sunk into the carseat. Maybe not everything was stupid. The car ride was predictably dull, but the view was gorgeous. Outside the windows, the city buildings were never more than three stories tall and the rolling hills made a beautiful backdrop. All the streets were only two-lanes, and we even drove on the correct side of the road. I kicked my feet idly, nowhere near touching the floor, and let my imagination take me to Violette's house. Did she have a room for me? Or was I staying in her room? I never asked. Then a strange feeling pulled me back to reality. Out of nowhere, I really had to pee! I hadn't gone even once on the plane; I hated public bathrooms more than I hated anything! But it never mattered - I had an iron bladder - until that very moment. "Hey, um. How much longer until we're there?" I wiggled awkwardly in my carseat, shifting side to side. "A little while yet, Gracie sweetie." That was not the answer I was hoping for. "Like... five minutes?" I was kicking my legs a little faster now, and I'd have crossed them if I could. "Tu vas finir par faire pipi dans ma voiture, n'est-ce pas ? J'aurais dû te changer à l'aéroport." "Hey! I don't know what you're saying but you sound annoyed." "Let's play the alphabet game, Gracie, would you like that?" "Umm..." I really had to pee, but maybe the distraction would help. "I guess..." It was a lot harder to play the alphabet game when you can't read any of the words! All the street signs and storefronts were in French, and I didn't know how to pronounce any of it. Even if I saw the right letter, I didn't know how to say the word. And there weren't any billboards like there were in the States. I only made it to letter D before I felt a heat pool between my legs, soaking into the denim of my jeans and pooling under my butt. At first I didn't understand what was happening, and then I realized I didn't have to pee anymore. Before I could figure out what to do, tears filled my eyes and my lip started to tremble. I couldn't let Violette see me like this! If she did, she'd never like me! "Oh tu as eu un petit accident?" Violette cooed from the driver's seat. "N-no, I'm fine!" I answered, not understanding the question. "I'm just... just tired! Um..." I fumbled for the buckle as tears spilled down my cheeks. I had to get out of this thing before we got to her house. I kept wiping the water from my cheeks but it wasn't doing me any good. I couldn't hide my tears no more than I could hide the accident I had. Within minutes, we were pulling in a small stone driveway in front of a cute two-story condo. Violette got out of the car and opened my door. "No, go away!" I shouted, shoving at her hands, but small slaps on the tops of them shut me up. She reached forward, unbuckled my seatbelt, and lifted me up out of the seat. I cried as she sat me on my feet and took a look at my jeans. "Pauvre chou, allez, on va rentrer à l'intérieur et te changer." I turned to face away from her so she couldn’t see, but the back was even worse than the front. My butt was completely soaked and I couldn’t look up from the gravel driveway. "Je vais te retirer de ces guenilles et te donner des vêtements plus appropriés." "Please stop talking in French. Please, I—" My words were interrupted when Violette pushed my thumb between my lips. In the span of two heartbeats, my anxiety began to trickle away. I wanted to pull my thumb out of my mouth, but it was the first time since I'd wet myself that I felt like I had some level of control. Everything around me was so new and scary: the country, the customs, and then my accident. Even Violette was acting strange. But with my thumb in my mouth, it felt slower. Manageable. Was this why babies suck their thumbs? I couldn't even remember the last time... Violette took my hand and led me up the stoop and in the front door. I felt like a two year old following her mommy around: soaked pants on display for the whole neighborhood. But somehow, with my hand in hers, I felt safe too. When we were both inside, Violette closed the door behind us and I took three steps into her foyer. The house wasn’t particularly big, but the open living room and kitchen made it seem gigantic. I mustered every ounce of willpower to pull my thumb from my lips and turned to look at my best friend. "I'm so sorry," I told her. "So sorry about your car, and... and I didn't mean to... I promise it will never happen again. I promise..." "Ne t'inquiète pas, je ferai en sorte que cela ne se reproduise plus," Violette said with a warm smile. She walked up the stairs with my hand in hers and I followed a step behind. With my free hand, I kept rubbing my eyes. I felt so foolish. The whole day had been a terrible disaster. How was I ever supposed to ask Violette out now? I would be lucky if she was still my friend after all this... At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing with a toy chest in the corner and a soft looking rug in the center of the room. In the corner, there was a rocking chair. Then there were two doors. As I was led past the first one, I peered in to see a bathroom. So then... Violette and I were sharing a room? But when she opened the door, I could never have expected what I saw. It was like any adult's room: a dresser, a queen-sized bed, a full-length mirror, and a closet. But on the far wall, there was an alcove maybe a quarter the size of the room itself. It was set into the wall, trimmed with white moulding, and a small butterfly nameplate above it - near the ceiling - reading "Gracie". The alcove itself was painted pink - a stark contrast to the neutrality of the room itself - and decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. Against the back wall was a huge white, wooden crib. On the other wall, there was a table with a thin mat on top of it, like a changing table. And lastly, a set of ten square shelves were stocked with stacks and stacks of diapers. I stared dumbfounded at the dichotomy of Violette's room - of our room - and shook my head in disbelief. This was... no way. "What the hell is this?!" I shouted, anger and confusion filling the space where my embarrassment was only a moment ago. How could she do this?! "This is your home, Gracie,” Violette said simply. If she was intimidated by my display of ferocity, she certainly didn’t show it. She nudged me inside the room and closed the door behind us with a little click. "I mean it, Vi! What... what is... what the hell? You think I don't see how big those things are? You think 'oh Grace will just think they're for some kid' - I'm not even staying here! I'm going home on... on... um..." Why couldn't I remember...? "Oh mon Dieu, quelle crise de colère!" "I can tell when you're being condescending!" "Le français sonne comme ça," Violette laughed, but I wasn't amused. I shoved past her and twisted the door handle. It didn't open. Then, faster than I could blink, Violette spun me around and pinned my back to the door. She stepped closer to me and cradled my cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across my face ever so softly. She leaned in so our lips were only a few inches apart and I felt my heart race in my chest. Then she tilted her head and kissed me once on the forehead. The warmth spread through that spot on my skin like the wetness through my jeans, filling me up with emotions. But rather than fear and shame, I felt... safe. "I'm so happy you're here, Gracie," Violette whispered, tracing her free hand down my side and to the hip of my wet pants. I had to remind myself to breathe. "Moving to France was the hardest thing I've ever done... I've worked for years to make a life for you here. For us. I never wanted to leave my little girl behind..." I had no idea what she was talking about. I was never her little girl before! Right...? But the more I thought about it, the less sure I was. Her optimism was unwavering; she always told me things would be okay, no matter how scary they seemed. Her confidence was unfettered; she always told me I was safe with her, no matter how unlikely that was. She made me do things I would never do on my own - she made me hang out with the other kids, talk about my feelings, and accept everything that I am - things I hadn't done since. But even as we said our goodbyes - a forehead kiss at the airport and a final crinkle of her hand on my hip - I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. "Do you really wanna be a big girl, Gracie?" she asked, a nervous smile on her beautiful lips. But somewhere in me, I knew she deserved an adult. That's what I'd been trying to be for so long. So I nodded my head. "I am a big girl," I said assertively, or as assertively as any girl in pee-soaked jeans could manage. "Then you'll say it with big girl words," Violette said, then took a step back. “Veux-tu que je te remette des couches pour le restant de ta vie? Veux-tu être ma petite fille? Je sais que tu l'es déjà." I stared dumbfounded at the girl of my dreams. She'd asked me a question, and it was clear she wanted an answer. But I had no idea what she was asking. I knew, without a doubt, if I told her to try to speak English, that I would always be a baby-babbling little girl to Violette. But if I answered wrong... I couldn't come back from that, could I? I tried to read Violette's face. She stood with a smile and excited eyes... eager? Curious? Or did she know that even if I answered correctly, I could never know for sure. She could pretend she asked a different question and I would never know the difference. In truth, I wasn't answering Violette's question. I was letting her decide my future. My choice didn't matter: only hers did. In that way, I really was just her little girl. "Yes," I said, with the utmost confidence, not knowing to what I was agreeing. "Tu es sûr?" she asked. I didn't know what it meant, but I could read the intent. She was asking for confirmation. "Yes," I said again. "Okay," Violette said, speaking my baby-talk language for the last time. I felt like I had crossed a threshold, like I was taking a step I couldn’t come back from, and the feeling was literal when Violette led me by the hand into the nursery nook. My cheeks were red as I looked at the changing table, at the crib, at the diapers. "On va te changer, ma petite fontaine. Tu dois être tellement mal à l'aise dans ce pantalon mouillé." Her voice and cadence were so melodic as she unbuckled my jeans and peeled them down my legs. Next went my panties; she prompted me to step out of them as they reached my ankles. I'd daydreamed about Violette undressing me countless times, but never like this. I could never have imagined it would be like this… naked from the waist down, soaked in my own pee, and standing adjacent to an adult-sized changing table, in an adult-sized nursery nook, filled with adult-sized diapers and an adult-sized crib. Next to Violette, I felt the very opposite of adult-sized. Violette reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. Instinctively, my arms raised and I was standing in just my bra. She took a step closer and leaned in; my heart raced as our lips closed in on each other, but she turned her head and our cheeks touched. Her arms wrapped around me and unsnapped my bra, pulling the straps down off my arms and leaving me as naked as the day I was born. I looked up in her eyes with tears in mine, overwhelmed with shame and fear. But her smile seemed to take it all away. "Violette..." I muttered, a plea for her to stop all this. I couldn't be a baby. I wasn't a baby! "Maman," she corrected, a stern look in her eye. A felt a rush of heat in my face and electricity up my spine. "Maman," I repeated... the first and only French word I knew. The only one that mattered. "Gentille fille," Violette smiled, and though I didn’t know what she said in words, the pride of her sentiment made me warm inside. She pushed me back ever so slightly until my bare butt hit the changing table. I looked up at her, biting my lip, and she gave me a supportive nod. "Lève." I didn't need a translation for that one. I slid back on to the changing table, like it was a doctor's table, but Violette wasn't having any of it. She spun me by the ankles and pushed me gently onto my back. I looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars - unbearably dim in the afternoon sunlight - and knew that my cheeks were shining much brighter. I felt Violette's hand on my thigh, trailing her fingers up to my knee, and pulling my legs apart. I had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this. I felt something cool and wet against my thigh. It made me jump, but Violette hushed me. "Du calme, ma petite princesse. Maman est juste en train de te nettoyer." I shivered in place as I figured out she was wiping me clean with a baby wipe from the changing table. She moved slowly and deliberately, rubbing the insides of my thighs and then between my legs. She was cleaning me up because I pissed my pants like a... like a… As Violette stepped across the nook to the cube shelves and I heard the crinkling of plastic. She turned the simple act of a diaper change into something sacred, like it was a ceremony. In a way, it was. She unfolded the diaper in front of me, standing at the side of the changing table. In my peripherals, I could see the plastic unfurl, crinkling sounds filling the air. I watched the wings as she pulled them apart, huge and wide like the arms of a hug. And the print on the front was so infantile, with baby blocks and teddy bears. How had she gotten them in my size? How had she gotten this table, or that crib, or that stroller at the airport? Why was everyone - from the flight attendant to the people in the parking lot - so comfortable with seeing me as an oversized baby? The only reason I could think of was the obvious: this was normal. Violette lifted my legs by the ankles. She raised them high in the air so my butt was off the table, and then - when it came back down - it rested on the soft padding of the diaper. The scent of baby powder filled the air and I sunk deeper into the changing table. I felt so fresh. Clean. Pure. Any parent could tape on a diaper in two seconds flat. Practice makes perfect, right? But the way Violette did it was perfect in a totally different way. She took her time, adjusting every little part of the plastic to be symmetrical. She pulled the thick center between my legs and pressed it to my hips. She folded and creased the wings so that each tape was pulled tight and snug across my body. She drew lines with her fingers around the legbands, checking for anywhere I might leak. And when she was satisfied, she patted the front two times, sending a shiver up my spine. By the time Violette pulled me up to sit on the table, my head was swirling with things I'd never felt before. Important. Adorable. Protected. Loved. Why would I ever want to be an adult, when I could be her little girl? If I had an answer at one point, I certainly didn't anymore. "Tu as été une si gentille petite fille. Maman est si fière de toi. Allons choisir une de tes plus belles robes." I was oblivious to her words, but the tone of her praise melted me from the inside out. She picked up the suitcase she had brought up with us and laid it down on the changing table. As I moved, even a little bit, I crinkled; I harmonized with the zipper of the case opening. When she pulled out the pretty sundress that was too short to cover my diaper, I anxiously put my thumb to my lips. "That's not mine, Maman..." "C'est dans ta valise, Gracie. Cela signifie que c'est la tienne. N'est-ce pas?" I nodded, agreeing to something I didn’t understand, although I knew what would happen next. She would put me in that dress and it would be mine. Sure enough, after a word of praise, Violette pulled the dress over my head and lifted me onto my feet. She took me across the room to see myself in her full-length mirror. As she tied my hair into pigtails, I stared at the hem of my pink sundress and the diaper it failed to conceal. There was no going back now... Once my hair was done, Maman clipped a ribbon to my dress. She took the pacifier hanging off the end of it and popped it in my mouth. The girl in the mirror was nothing but a baby, through and through. So when I felt my tummy gurgle, I knew the was no point in asking. But what little adulthood I had left demanded I ask anyway. "Maman," I muttered, turning to face her. I spoke with a lisp around my pacifier. "I gotta go potty…" "C'est à ça que servent tes couches, mon ange. Nous le savons toutes les deux." I looked up at Maman with resignation. I didn’t know what she said, but it didn’t matter; I knew my fate. Just in case I forgot, my tummy gurgled again to remind me. It was unavoidable, inescapable, and approaching inevitable. Long ago, maybe a lifetime ago, I knew when I needed to use the potty and I could make it there in time. Now, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to. I did my due diligence; I did what my adulthood demanded of me. I asked, even though Maman and I both knew it was all for show. I had to ask, because she had to say no. It was performative. Distantly, somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the echoes of shame and humiliation begging me to defy Maman. As those pleas fell on deaf ears, I watched the girl in the mirror. I saw a blush on her cheeks and the way her teary eyes shined with longing, a longing for things to be easy. She wasn’t happy with what she was about to do, but she was happy for the praise that would surely follow in words she couldn’t possibly understand. Maman wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my tummy through my dress, and whispered softly in my ear: "Je t'aime, Gracie." Though my dumb baby brain couldn't translate her words, my dumb baby heart could feel them more clearly than anything I'd ever known. I stared at Maman in the mirror and bit my pacifier. I didn’t want to hold it, even if I could. So with my Maman’s arms around me, I bent forward just a bit and began to push. At first, nothing happened; I thought maybe I wasn’t a baby after all. Then, with a second push, I felt the seat of my diaper expand and fill. It was so easy. Nothing in my life had ever been as easy as messing my diaper, and that's how I knew I was never meant to be an adult. [END]

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding -------------------------- Bnuuy Brainwash By Pudding *Author’s Note: I wrote this as a birthday gift for my favorite dumb bnuuy, Claire, and she was gracious enough to share with you all. Premise: Claire is a new initiate in the Dependent program, where she is regressed to a full-time baby. What awaits Claire in her new life? Disclaimers: brainwashing, hypnosis, diapers, wetting, messing -------------------------- “You can’t do this to me!” They always said that, without fail, without exception, as though that very simple and defiant proclamation might have changed their fate. What did they expect would happen when they said that? Did they fancy that the fate chosen for them would suddenly and miraculously be reversed? That the very extensive program designed purely and strictly for this purpose would just do an about-face and decide that they indeed couldn’t do this? Regardless of motivation, it was all academic at this point anyway; once a person was nominated to undergo this conversion, there was no turning back, or reversing the process, or presence of an off-switch or anything of the sort. And beyond a doubt, the program worked — it had worked on thousands of other people before this little bundle of sass and spunk, and it would work on thousands and thousands more after her too. She was certainly attractive, with brown eyes that shone with intelligence and thought, an adorable nose and a smile that was best described as too pretty for a girl as clever as she was. Although presently, smiling seemed to be the last thing on her mind. Rather, she wore a scowl with all the efficacy of a child; much more of a pout than anything intimidating. It wasn’t hard to see why someone might want her transformed into a Dependent. What was her name? Claire? That was a pretty name, and suitably juvenile too. A glance at the chart revealed that her wife had nominated her for the program, citing in her application that Claire was often lost in daydreams and fantasy worlds, and couldn’t be trusted with adult tasks. Which was in no way to say she wasn’t capable, just that when given the choice she’d always rather lose herself in passions than devote herself to something meaningful. Just like any child, really. “Oh, you know, they always say that Claire.” “But!” she scrunched up her nose and shook her head, “maybe other people deserved it, but not me, I’m not supposed to be here. My wife-” “Is the one who sent you here, yes, that’s very good!” There was a brief and delightful silence from the girl as her pretty brown eyes fell under the weight of her frowning, and she tried to figure out if that was true or not. This, too, was all too common. She’d probably see it as a betrayal, rather than the act of love that it had been. “She wouldn’t, she loves me, and… and and and…she wouldn’t do this to me.” Bingo! “And it’s because she loves you that you’re here, Claire. My name is Miss Pudding, although you don’t really need to remember that for very long - you won’t be in any state to call an adult by name, soon enough.” “Pudding!” “That’s right, sweetheart! That’s my name,” the woman clapped her hands in quiet and singular applause, and continued, “and you’re Claire, although I’m to understand that your Momma-to-be has something more appropriate in mind as a pet name for you.” This was about the time Pudding expected Claire to realize the gravity of her situation, and the brown-eyed-beauty certainly didn’t disappoint. She looked around slowly at first; as the fire in her heart faded and the metaphorical smoke was given a chance to clear. She was in a room with lilac walls and carpet, lacking any other defining features apart from the bed she was strapped firmly down to by the wrists and ankles. “Please, please please, you gotta let me go…I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, and I’ll um…” Tears were starting to pool at the edges of those pretty pretty eyes, and she really did look beautiful, especially in such a state. “You’re trying too hard, Claire; there’s no escape and by the time we’re done with you, escape won’t even be something you want. So just relax and try to enjoy yourself.” There was a click sound as the lights went down, and as though the lights had been her own eyes, Claire faded quickly into sleep. * * * When she woke up, Claire wasn’t in the lilac room anymore, and she wasn’t in the bed, and she wasn’t in the dark. Around her she could hear the busy chittering of what sounded like children, although she couldn’t focus on them right now; she was so awestruck and stunned by what she was wearing: a gingham dress in lilac that flowed over her body the way that snow painted a layer over the world in winter. Wearing a pretty dress was right. Something thick between her legs that she immediately lost focus on if she tried to think about it. That was right, too. And something in her mouth that a part of her brain told her was a pacifier and a louder voice inside of her told her was okay. Promptly, defiantly, she ignored that voice, and spat the thing out from between her lips. The pacifier fell only far enough for the momentum to be arrested by the clip attached to her dress. She could feel panic trying to rise in her chest, both fueled and suppressed by the final realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her eyes looked around, panned the horizon from her place sitting on the floor, and she saw now what she’d thought were children. Her brain tried to tally them up, although any counting past four seemed to get jumbled, and so she concluded there were simply ‘lots’. Lots of adults, dressed in pretty outfits. Dresses and shortalls, onesies and skirtalls, footed sleepers and cute polka-dotted ensembles. The largeness of the room made Claire feel very small by comparison. Claire winced and rubbed her head; feeling braided plaits that danced and pulled under their own weight of hair and ribbons. Something didn’t feel right; her head didn’t feel right, her thoughts didn’t feel right. None of this felt right, or sensical, or familiar. A voice that reached out to her did feel familiar, though. A voice she knew, a voice she trusted. “Hello again, darling girl.” Looking up at the woman who stood above her, there were a lot of floating thoughts in her head. Safety. Happiness. Trust. Miss Pudding. And another name that came to the forefront the way a message might in a magic 8 ball: Nana. “Nana…?” Claire felt uncomfortable with that word; she felt conflicted. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and like it was the first time she’d ever said it. Moreover, her voice felt strange… or her choice of words, maybe. Like most of the words she reached for flittered out of her reach. “What happened… what… what did you do to me, Nana?” The standing woman knelt and put her hand on Claire’s cheek with a warm smile – the kind of smile that made Claire flush with warmth for reasons she couldn’t understand — and spoke to her in words that felt like honey; sweet and thick and sticky. “Nana didn’t do anything you didn’t want, sweetie.” “She… she didn’t…?” Claire felt so confused. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. She remembered the Lilac Room, and she she remembered the darkness, and she remembered… swimming? No. She remembered sinking. And then floating. She remembered feeling scared, and then safe, and then… her memory felt foggy. Or maybe it felt like it was receding the way that waves did after they crashed upon the shore. Nana had such a warm smile and such pretty eyes. How had Claire never noticed that before? How had she never noticed those pretty blue eyes? She wanted to look away and found herself patently unable. A voice in her head told her that it was okay to float in those waters, and that Nana loved her. Of course Nana loved her. Obviously. “What… what is this, Nana?” She tugged at her dress, at the pretty purple gingham material, and managed to look away just to look down at it. There was an oddness between her legs she was still aware of; a thickness, a foreign strangeness. And just as soon as she focused on it, her attention fluttered away like a butterfly all over again. “It’s your dress, Claire. A pretty pretty dress for a pretty pretty girl.” “For a pretty pretty girl…” Claire mused quietly, trying to see if the words fit as well as the dress did. “That’s right, darling! You’re Nana’s Pretty Girl! How’s your drawing coming?” “Drawing…?” Claire felt ever more confused, but her eyes scanned the floor where she was sitting for any sort of answer and found a sheet of paper with a crude drawing of a three stick figures in dresses, holding hands. “Oh!” Suddenly, Claire was awash with enthusiasm and excitement as she started to point fervently at the paper. “This is… um… this is um…” And just as quick as the excitement came, it gave way to foggy confusion. Quicker still, a three-tone chime sounded in the room and every single person paid attention. Claire couldn’t be sure what it meant, but as sure as she knew Nana loved her, she knew that the tone was important! “It’s time for your favorite game, darling, you should hurry!” Nana encouraged her, and Claire nodded. She knew which place she liked the most. The one with the lilac game controller, the one next to the fingerpaints and the fairy wings. Quick as she could, she crawled over to the small, curved screen by the nearby wall and sat herself down in front of the display, taking the oversized controller in her hands. An image of a bunny came to life, and Claire heard herself giggling happily. Colors flicked up on the screen, and she pushed the buttons, and her mind floated away into a happy bliss of lights and colors and instructions. * * * “I dun’ feel good, Nana…” There weren’t any sounds around her anymore, just the walls of the Lilac Room. Claire sat upon the bed, and Nana sat next to her. How had she gotten here? How long had it been? Her tummy twisted in anxiousness, and she squeezed her thighs tight around what she knew for a fact was her diaper. That made sense. “You need to go for another swim, darling, that’s all. Are you ready?” “A swim…?” “Into The Blue.” Claire might not have been feeling good, but those words made the most sense to her. She loved The Blue, almost as much as she loved her Nana and her Momma. The idea of getting to visit made her giggle happily, and it took all her energy to steel herself and focus and calm, before obediently staring into Nana’s eyes. * * * “I’m a baby.” “I’m a little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “I can’t take care of myself.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a good little baby.” “I love my dresses.” “I love my diapers.” “I’m helpless.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a dumb and happy little baby.” “I love being a baby.” “I love being dependent.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a diaper-dependent, incontinent, devoted little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “They do the thinking, Claire does the stinking.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a beautiful, brilliant baby bunny.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m helpless, obedient, pretty, and submissive.” “Thoughts for for grown-ups, diapers are for Bunny.” “Bunny obeys.” “Bunny listens.” “Bunny is a baby.” “Bunny is better this way.” * * * “I’ma bunny…baby…baby bnuuy…” Claire wasn’t sure why she said those words, but her thoughts swirled with words just like those, and each one of them felt as true and genuine and real as her looking at the grass and saying it was green. And Bunny was so good at colors! That’s why she wore a purple dress in her drawing, and Nana wore yellow, and Momma wore teal. Bunny was in the middle, holding hands, and that was the best bestest place for her! “Nananananana!” Claire giggled as she felt Nana lean down next to her and slip fingers under her dress to check her diapers. Bunny wore diapers. Claire was Bunny and she loved her diapers because of course she did! There was a heavenly and familiar musical chime, and she didn’t even need to be told – she had to get a best high score with the pretty rabbit! She hadda get to 72! Claire crawled across the foam tiled floor and plopped down between two other babies that were just like her, and she took the purple controller awkwardly in her hands. “Bunn--nnyyyy!” She giggled at the heterochromatic rabbit and pressed all her buttons just the way she was told. Bunny loved to be obedient! Helpless and Obedient and Pretty and Submissive. Bunny HOPS! * * * “Oh my goodness, darling, someone’s a stinky little princess, isn’t she?” “I can’ helps it Nana… I was sleepsin an’ I’ma baby…” “That’s right, darling! Messing in your sleep during nap time is very normal for a girl your age.” Distantly, a part of her brain told Bunny that she didn’t used to do that. That she didn’t used to play with the others until she got tired, and then go to sleep on the floor in the playroom, and then poop her diapers. But that didn’t make any sense at all, and that was why Bunny didn’t do the thinking. Bunny was too pretty for thoughts, after all. Helplessly, she let Nana pick her up and put her against her hip. Had Nana always been so big? It didn’t matter. All grown-ups were much bigger than Bunny was, and that was because and also proved the fact that, she was a baby. Bunny and Baby both started with a B, and she sure didn’t know many more letters than that, so it had to be true. Obediently - as though this routine had happened a thousand times - she cuddled into Nana like a koala as she was carried over to the changing room. Prettily, she smiled. Her giggle was so vacant, and her eyes were glossy and happy and empty. Bunny sucked her fingers all the way there, until Nana put her binkie back between her lips. Submissively, she laid down on the padded changing table and kicked her feet happily. “You’ll be ready to go home soon, and see your Momma. Won’t that be wonderful?” “Yuh yuh yuh! I wanna see my Momma ‘cause she’s a good an’ I love her an’ an’ an’!” “And she’ll be so proud of how your conversion is progressing, darling.” “Yuh yuh yuh Momma gonna love my this.” While babbling back and forth with her Nana, Claire knew a few things. She knew that this adult woman was changing her very mushy diaper that she had no recollection of using, and that there were countless others who could just look over and see. She knew that she’d gotten so much smaller since being here, and she knew that she needed her diapers beyond doubt. She knew that she heard Nana’s voice in her head, and her words were always the right thing to do. She knew that she was a baby girl. She knew that she loved her Momma. She knew how much she loved to play her bunny game on the screen, and how much she loved her binkie, and how much she loved her drawings. She knew how much happier she was now. And she knew how much many more happy it made her to be told what to do. Burning deep inside of her, Bunny knew she was created to please and fulfill and make people happy. “All changed!” Nana smiled, patting the front of Bunny’s diaper with a sense of accomplishment. Already, Bunny couldn’t wait to get down off the changing table and get back to playing. “Nanananana I wan’ play an’ I wan’ draw an’ I wan’ make more drawings for Momma!” “Well you’d better hurry, Bunny, you might see your Momma sooner than you think.” With her brown eyes filled with determination, Bunny nodded her head earnestly. “Bnuuy will draw lots of the pictures an’ make lots of good an’ give Momma LOTS of smiles!” True to her Nana’s prediction, it wouldn’t be too much longer before Bunny’s Momma came to get her, and ordinarily that moment of parting would have been a bittersweet one indeed. Of all the caregivers at the conversion nursery, Nana was most known for her imprinting on her charges and sending them back out into the world was always an event of mixed feelings. That made it especially wonderful that Claire was to be a part of a new program where she’d have a state-appointed caregiver relocated to live just across the street from her and to assist her Momma in her continuing development. And, of course, it only made sense for her appointed caregiver to be her Nana who she already loved very, very much. So as Bnuuy drew another picture of herself with her Momma to one side and her Nana to the other, as she hummed and wriggled her diapered bottom as she wet herself without a care in the world, she’d occasionally mutter a few words to herself and giggle. “’…an’ they liveded happy evers afters…” [End.]

Chapter 1: “Heather, can you come here please?” “What is it Miss?” “I was just watching Sammy and I want you to come here and take note of something. Do you remember when we put her back in daytime diapers?” Heather had to think a moment. It was Thursday now, and it wasn’t that long ago. “I think Monday Miss? After she wet her trainers at snacktime?” Miss Fairchild grinned and nodded. “Sounds about right.” Heather joined the taller woman at the kitchen back door, looking out into the backyard. There were four students at play, three of which were digging around in the sandbox, but just off to the side, the girl in question, Samantha, was standing with a hand on the trunk of the large Mulberry tree facing away from her and Miss Fairchild. In the same way that they were watching her, Sammy was watching the other girls playing in the sandbox, seeming lost in thought at whether or not she wanted to join them. Samantha had only been at Miss Fairchild’s school for about two weeks now. When she’d first arrived, she’d been the picture of teenage rebellion. Wearing a short plaid skirt, ripped fishnet stockings, a loose wide neck shoulder shirt, she’d loudly proclaimed how her mother was insane if she thought she needed to spend time here. The transformation of just two weeks was nothing short of inspiring. Sammy was currently dressed in a light pink t-shirt, with a sunflower yellow overall dress worn over it. The front flap had three pink butterflies on it, and the whole thing barely came down enough to hide the thin diaper she was wearing. “Watch this hun, from what I can see, she’s about to take a nice step back from pre-schooler to toddler.” Miss Fairchild said. Heather didn’t fully understand the stages, she’d only been working at the school as a helper for about 3 months herself, but she had seen all the girls currently playing in the sandbox go through similar transformations. Miss Fairchild labeled all her students by relative maturity. Teen, pre-schooler, toddler, and finally baby; which did not reflect their physical ages. Sammy was physically a teen, easily 16 or 17, but was definitely not that mature, not any more. As Heather and her boss watched, Sammy slowly slipped her thumb into her mouth. She was entranced, watching the other girls play, all of which were already at toddler or baby level. Heather looked on intently, and as she did, Sammy seemed to relax her shoulders, and from what she could see of the girl’s face, her eyes half lidded as she stared off dreamily. Sucking her thumb, watching the ‘younger’ girls at play, she didn’t even seem aware that she was crouching a little, other hand still against the tree to steady herself. Heather wasn’t sure what she watching. She looked up to Miss Fairchild, trying to see what the fuss was about. Miss Fairchild just smiled, but catching the curious look from Heather she gestured with a hand. “Sammys’ going poo poo, the poor dear. That’s not something pre-schooler’s do in their pants. I think we’ll need to demote her down to toddler if she’s going to do that in her diapers,” she said in an almost coo’ing tone. Heather shifted her gaze back to the girl. The way she tilted forward, sucking her thumb intently, and the slight growing puffiness of the back of her diaper under her dress, it was obvious now that she’d been told what she was watching. Sammy remained both focused on the sandbox and dreamily not part of the same reality. What was going through her head as she had her accident? After almost an entire minute, Sammy stood back up, thumb still firmly in her mouth. “Go check on her hun, see if she knows she had an accident, and then take her to get changed. Be sure to use the thicker diapers this time, she needs them.” “Yes miss,” Heather said almost reflexively. Miss Fairchild stood aside as Heather went out into the back yard. There was always a slight intimidation factor there. Mako Fairchild, the owner of the school, was an Amazon. This meant she was a beautiful woman almost 9 feet tall, which was average height for an Amazon. Heather was something in-between. Both of her parents were Amazons, but somewhere in her genealogy, she had a rogue gene and she was only a hair above seven feet. Still technically an amazon, but on the shorter side of them, and sometimes teased when she was back in High School. All the students at the school were ‘littles’. They had many names; dwarves, munchkin, shortstack, funsize, and ‘babies.’ This school especially promoted the last one. A somewhat secretive result of just a month’s training, ‘or your money back guaranteed’ as Miss Fairchild quietly advertised. Approaching Sammy from behind, the cute girl in the yellow dress jumped a little at the pat on her shoulder. She was only an inch or two above 5’ feet, squarely in the ‘little’ category. “Hi Samantha, everything okay?” Heather asked. Sammy gave a slow confused nod, her thumb still in her mouth. “I was about to check all the baby girls, but I wanted to see if you needed to potty first. Do you need to potty?” Sammy shook her head. “You’ve had a few accidents since Monday. Let me check your diaper. I want to see if you need a change.” The girl blushed. Heather had been trained by Miss Fairchild to use this circular logic. You had to talk to the students and describe what you were doing and why, give them reason to understand like it was all normal and part of a learning process. “I’m a big girl, I don’t need to be checked,” she said in a soft voice. Heather just ignored her, lifting up her dress to pat the front of her diaper. It was a little damp, but nothing too bad. She turned Samantha around, getting a whimper of protest from the girl and lifted her dress a little higher to pull out the back of her diaper. “Samantha,” Heather said in the authoritative tone she’d been working on since she’d started at the school. “Do you have something to tell me?” Sammy’s face went pink. As Heather dropped the back of her dress, she slowly lowered her free hand to reach under and press at the back of her own diaper, letting out a little gasp as she cupped her own heavy seat. The thumb slowly came out of Samantha’s mouth as she realized what had happened. “I… I…” “You’re stinky,” Heather finished for her. Taking the girl by the wrist, Heather led her back toward the house. The teenager had to waddle with the load in her diapers. She started to cry softly as she saw Miss Fairchild waiting right at the door. “Uh oh, someone needs a change huh?” Miss Fairchild asked down at the two girls. Heather thought it was a little silly since it was something she knew already. Samantha was quick to look at the floor and put her thumb back in her mouth. She whimpered out some excuse that neither of them could catch. “Don’t worry hun, these things happen, no one’s upset,” Miss Fairchild assured her as Heather led the new toddler off to the nursery for a diaper change. It was 15 minutes later that Sammy was led back outside, and shyly helped over to the sandbox, where she joined the other girls in her now thicker diapers. Her thumb had been freed from her mouth, replaced by a pacifier. Chapter 2: “And this is my assistant Heather,” Miss Fairchild said with a smile. Heather gave a polite wave to the Amazon couple seated on the couch. They had a ‘little’ boy with them who had his hands nervously placed between his knees as he sat rigid. He looked maybe 15 or 16, probably somewhere in the middle of high school. “Typically we have between three to six students at any given time. I specialize in correctional behavior and maturity assessment. We offer both day classes and full time boarding for those that want a bit more focused program,” Miss Fairchild said. “You came highly recommended, we’ve actually visited a few of the automated daycares across town, but I wanted something a little more personal.” the Mother said. Miss Fairchild smiled. “Most of our business comes from referrals and we believe no machine will ever replace a Mother’s nurturing.” Heather listened a moment, but she’d heard the sales pitch before. Likely the young man would start classes here soon. Most of the time it was under the pre-tense of making them more focused at their studies, or less rebellious, or any number of things. One student had even been told she was going to be learning a new language, but the end result was generally the same. Crossing the room, Heather went to go check on the nursery and its sleeping occupants. Naptime every day started at as near to 1pm as it could get. Herding teenage toddlers was a lot like herding cats. It was never easy and it never happened exactly on time. They generally slept for an hour, sometimes two if she was lucky. The nursery had its own unique smell that could be a bit overwhelming at first, but becomes something familiar over time. It smelt of talcum powder, clean carpets, faint used diapers secured in their sealed trashcan, baby shampoo, and clothing fresh from the laundry. At the moment, they only had three students, and all of them were already at the baby level. They would be graduating soon. Going to the first crib, Heather checked on Ami. Ami was an adorable little Asian girl. She was small even for a little, right at four feet tall, and Miss Fairchild had apparently gotten a special request from her parents. Ami was probably in her early 20’s, but after her training, she was the ‘youngest’ in the school, with maturity about equal to an infant. She was still sleeping in her crib, clad in a lilac purple onesie, matching pacifier and her thick diaper underneath. Ami needed the most help of the group. She could still speak, but most of her communication had defaulted to crying or giggling. She didn’t even walk anymore, choosing instead to crawl everywhere. Heather wasn’t sure if that was something Ami had decided, or was ‘taught’. Popping one or two of the snaps on the bottom of her onesie, Heather checked her diaper and wasn’t surprised to find the baby girl had soaked her diaper during her nap. She made a mental note and moved down the line, coming to Sophie next. Sophie was a very quiet girl. She’d come to the school knowing what was going to happen. Her mother had even told Miss Fairchild on her first day that she couldn’t wait to have ‘her baby girl back’. The little brunette had seemed resigned to her fate, and her training had gone by rather quick. In just twelve days, Sophie was completely diaper dependent and sleeping like a little angel in her crib with her paci. Heather reached down to lift the girl’s summer dress up, giving her diaper a check. Another wet one to see too. Finally Heather moved to the last crib, where Sammy was sleeping. Just last week, Heather had watched as Sammy took a step back from pre-schooler to toddler. She was rapidly progressing toward baby, sleeping in overalls with a pacifier like the other girls. She leaned down and was about to undo some of the snaps when she caught a slight whiff of a dirty diaper. She just gave Sammy’s padded seat a couple pats and could tell already the girl had thoroughly messed her diaper while sleeping. “Might have already stepped down to baby, huh?” Heather asked quietly. She went back to Ami and started waking and changing the girl, bringing her out to the playroom. Miss Fairchild had seen their guests off by then and was waiting with a bottle of formula to feed baby Ami. “We’re going to have a new student starting Wednesday,” the Amazon woman said happily. “The young man?” Heather asked as she passed the still sleepy Ami over. “Yes, his name’s Timothy, although he’ll be a rather fun one. We’re to get him ready before his parents officially make him baby Tabitha.” Heather shook her head at that. There was a booming ‘baby business’ around here, that was for sure. She almost felt sorry for the poor boy. Science seemed to know no limits when it came to Amazons and their children. In a month’s time, Timothy could very well anatomically be a baby girl. “Very good Miss,” Heather said politely. She went to go get Sophie and Sammy, changing both girls and bringing them out to the playpen. Chapter 3: “Ummm so what do you do there?” Julie asked. “Underpaid babysitter and daycare worker mostly. Officially I’m a teacher’s aide, but I’ve never known a teacher’s aide who had to change so many diapers,” Heather groaned. “Who enrolls them?” “Their parents, at least, I think their parents. I can’t really be sure about this one woman and the girl she brought in; I think her name was Kurin? Man, she was a biter. Ranting about another world, always trying to sneak out a window, or under the fence. It took almost four weeks to get her just down to pre-school level.” “Pre-school?” Heather rolled her eyes. “Sorry, it’s a bit tough to explain. Just be glad you’re not on the receiving end of ‘schooling’. Miss Fairchild is really nice, but she certainly knows what she’s doing.” It was easier not to explain everything since what happened to ‘littles’ wasn’t necessarily illegal in their society, but it was something of an unspoken occurrence. “Oh.” The two girls sat in silence at the diner for a little while, poking at plates. Julie was Heather’s best friend since High School. The two of them had been close through thick and thin. They shared a common bond in being short Amazon’s. “What’s up Jules? Why the 20 questions all of a sudden?” Heather asked as she sipped from her drink. “It’s been almost six months since we’ve hung out last. I was just curious what you’ve been up to.” Heather shrugged. “Work keeps me busy, and the hours at your job seem to be opposite to mine.” Julie shrugged. “I actually quit, I was working too many hours and the stress was getting to me.” “Oh, sorry to hear that,” Heather said awkwardly. The two girls sat in a longer silence as that sunk in. “You want desert?” “Totally.” After their brief visit, Heather was a bit surprised when she saw Julie walking up the street outside their school a few days later. It was a beautiful spring day, and Heather was seated on a quilted blanket, reading a storybook to four students. She offered a smile and little wave to her friend, but she didn’t pause in her reading. The little teens seated before her had a collective attention span of less than four minutes, and she knew if she stopped, she’d lose them. She continued with a show of every page about what a hungry hungry caterpillar was eating, getting a few giggles from her audience. Julie watched from outside the yard’s picket fence, leaning on it and listening. After the book, she let the kids play with their toys and came up to say hi. “So this is it?” Julie asked looking around. Heather nodded. “Yup, the whole kitten caboodle. What brings you here?” “Oh, uh, just interviewing for a secretary position down the street, and I remember you saying where the place was, so I figured I’d stop by and see it for myself.” The two of them chatted quietly, although Heather was soon dragged away when young Timothy, barely having been at the school for a week, had a growing wet spot on his shorts. “Duty calls,” Heather sighed, offering her friend a wave. Oddly, Heather found Julie stopping by again just a few days later. This time she asked Miss Fairchild if she was hiring. Miss Fairchild was happy to meet Julie, but informed her that she wasn’t hiring at the moment. The following week, Heather found Julie there a third time, and it was on this visit that Heather began to suspect what Julie really wanted. Every time she came, she watched the ‘students’ a little too closely to be curious about the business. She’d heard about this sort of thing before. “You’re jealous of them aren’t you?” Heather asked as she leaned against the fence, watching the yard once more. Julie practically gasped for words. “No, never, who’d want that?” she asked indicating Tabitha, the onetime boy who was now in an adorable frilly dress, with thick diapers underneath. “Amazon mothers with deep pockets,” Heather said jokingly. Julie didn’t laugh. She just watched the students playing. “You’ve never actually seen inside the school have you Jules?” Heather asked. “No, I mean, well I saw from the front door, when I talked to your boss about if she needed a worker.” Heather nodded, smiling. “Come on, I have an idea.” After corralling the pre-schoolers and toddlers inside, Heather showed Julie the play room, and her friend even helped in getting the little ones ready and down for a nap. Usually between 1 and 2pm, Heather would clean a little and go on break, but instead she invited Julie to have a seat on the couch. “Oh you’re little friend stopping by to say hi again?” Miss Fairchild asked as she came in. Usually during lunch Miss Fairchild did the reports on student progress, and ordered supplies. Heather nodded and put her hands on her hips. “Actually Miss Fairchild, I wanted to talk to you about her.” Julie looked up surprised, looking at her friend and then at Miss Fairchild. “I’m pretty sure there’s a reason she’s come to visit me so much here. This is the third time in seven days.” Miss Fairchild smiled, and nodded like she understood exactly. “How old are you hun?” she asked the small Amazon. “I’m 23,” Julie gulped. “And you live on your own?” She nodded. “Well, have a seat here with Heather a moment, I’d like to get some refreshments. We can discuss things when I get back.” Julie watched the Amazon woman leave and she looked hesitantly to Heather. Julie had been doing a lot of research lately. Thoughts about the school had been dominating her mind. She had a general idea from the things Heather told her, and what she’d found online, but she wasn’t sure what was about to happen. She felt sure that now was probably her only chance to turn and walk away. Miss Fairchild returned with a small snack tray. Julie was sitting nervously on the couch, she hadn’t left. Heather was lounging beside her, looking like she was contemplating a nap after the morning she’d had. “You asked about a job the other day, right?” Miss Fairchild asked as she set the tray down on the coffee table. Julie nodded. “Well I don’t have any more spots open for a teacher’s aide, but…” and she gestured at the snack tray. On it were a cup of tea and a baby bottle of formula. “Can you stand up and come over here please?” Julie did as she was asked, looking at the tray and then Miss Fairchild, confused. “I brought you something to drink hun,” the Amazon woman said in a conspiratorial whisper. Heather slowly got up and excused herself from the room, having a notion of what was likely coming and not wanting to put peer pressure on her friend. “Oh, uhm, which one is mine?” Julie said as she started to fidget a little nervously. She was an Amazon, but she couldn’t help noticing the obvious difference in height between herself and Miss Fairchild. Where Julie small, around seven feet, it was still two feet shy of the woman before her. “That’s a good question hun. Why don’t you tell me which one is yours?” Julie moved her mouth like she was about to say something, but her eyes focused on the two items on the tray, staring intently at them. Miss Fairchild just leaned forward to whisper. “You’d make an adorable baby girl Julie, if that’s what you want,” she said. “I’d have no problem at all finding you a mommy, and I’d even let you stay here for your schooling free of charge.” Julie gulped, her eyes not leaving the baby bottle. “The choice is yours hun. If you’d like a second childhood, just take the bottle in front of you and come climb into my lap. After little Julie has her ba-ba, we’ll get her in diapers and she can join the others for a nap.” Julie felt a little tingling shudder as she heard the word ‘little’ added to her name. Unable to really control herself, she reached forward. Heather came back into the room a few minutes later, having been gathering a few things. She found Miss Fairchild humming softly and cradling her friend Julie in her arms, the younger girl had her eyes closed as she was being fed a baby bottle. Heather nodded to herself, patting her own back for having guessed right. When she’d stepped out, she’d gone to the nursery and quietly gathered pre-school clothing and one of the diapers. Chapter 4: “You’re Heather’s mother?” Miss Fairchild asked with a big smile. The other Amazon nodded and raised a hand to wave at her daughter, who was currently overseeing the playroom. She waved back, and looked like she was going to come over and say something, but she had a hard time freeing herself from the baby girl who’d hugged both her legs and was trying to purposefully trip her. “I’m just in town for the long weekend. I figured I’d drop in on her workplace to snoop about what she’s been up to.” Miss Fairchild laughed at that. “We mother’s always have to know our babies are safe.” Both women giggled and watched the ‘students’ at play. “I have to say I’m surprised. She told me she was a teacher’s aide. I had no idea she was helping with all this.” “Oh, yes, Heather’s been one of my most reliable helpers to work here. She’s a darling.” The Amazon woman nodded and smiled, watching the playroom. She was just in time to watch her daughter spill over with a delighted giggle from the babies. She was on her feet again in moments, but it looked like she was enjoying herself. “I think it’s wonderful,” the woman told Miss Fairchild. As she watched, the Amazon tilted her head, seeing one baby girl who looked familiar. “Is that… Julie?” Miss Fairchild’s smile broadened. “Julie’s a sweetheart. She’s being adopted in two weeks to a lovely woman in this neighborhood. She’s only been here a week and she’s already completely unpotty trained.” The woman gasped a little, seeming lost in thought. “I’ve known Julie since her and Heather were kids. They’re the same size even.” Miss Fairchild nodded, “They are a bit small for Amazons.” The other woman looked at her, and slowly she began to smile. Miss Fairchild smiled back. “What type of programs do you have available?” she asked. (To be continued…?)

And Then the World Crinkled By: Snackers Chp. 1 The universe has a sense of humor. Or, at the very least, I’m convinced that whatever you and I understand reality to be… it’s got jokes. My life must be a particularly funny joke. I am not even sure how or why I ended up here. I can reasonably assume it is part of the ‘grand comedy’ and that ‘I’ exist somewhere between the opener and the punchline. Maybe I am the punchline. If I were to advise you about how NOT to become a beacon of cosmic humor, this is what I would do… Step one in my poorly written pamphlet would be “Stop complaining, it really isn’t that bad.” I would also add a subtext of, “It could be MUCH worse.” I did not follow this simple rule before I ended up here. I walked through life making a steady stream of complaints and shoulder shrugs. I could, and still can, eye roll on an Olympic level. In my defense, this is normal behavior for a teen where I am from. Where I exist now, it is apparently not. I want to state up front that the reality I grew up with is not a figment of my imagination. I am not crazy. Everyone thinks I am because I remember something no one else does, but I am absolutely sure of one fact. I AM POTTY TRAINED. I swear I am, and that SHOULD be normal. I potty trained when I was three years old. My aunt ribbed me for years that I was a devil to train, but past the age of four I have never had a problem making it to the bathroom or even considered the bathroom as anything worthy of much thought. It’s kind of the same way I don’t really think much about eating, drinking, breathing or sleeping except when I need to do one of them. So this is why I think something or someone is playing a joke on me. I made one off color remark about hating the bathroom and how it was inconvenient to wait in line to sit down and pee between classes. It is bullshit that I drink water, just to pee it out later. I didn’t really mean anything by it; I was just complaining. In all fairness, I complain about everything, its normal. I complain about boredom. I complain about the weather. I complain about new games not being released yet… I communicate through negativity, it is how I express myself as a teen. It all happened after the break between classes. My math teacher hit his number stride which put half the class to sleep. I dozed off too and either the world collectively decided to play a prank on me, or something beyond my understanding pulled the rug out from under my feet. “Samantha? What do you think you are doing?” asked Ms. Taylor. I was a little stunned because she’d caught me by the wrist and was holding firm. Usually, teachers were very hands off with students. She was supposed to go get an administrator if I were acting up. But I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just walking. I frowned and checked my clothing to make sure I wasn’t out of school regulation. I had on a plaid skirt, and a hoodie that was probably a little too large. It wasn’t out of regs though. I looked at her hand on my wrist before looking up to her. “Um, I’m going to my locker? Pretty much the same thing I do every day between classes. Is that wrong?” Ms. Taylor sighed and used her other hand to flip my skirt, suddenly flashing my black panties to the hallway. “HEY!” I said quickly pulling my skirt down. Ms. Taylor didn’t seem to care and started walking back down the hallway, surprising me as she suddenly tugged me stumbling behind her in a new direction. My hand remained on my skirt, still a bit shocked. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a student take her diaper off. Students wear diapers for a reason and I’m not about to subject our poor janitorial staff to your foolish acts of rebellion on our school floors.” “Diapers?!?!” I blurted out, not entirely sure I’d heard her correctly. “Why on earth would students wear…?” Right on beat, as if to answer my question before it had even been voiced, Skye walked by us. Skye was indisputably the social queen bee of my school. Well, I say she walked but more realistically she waddled. She was flanked by her gal pal Ami with an i. It must have been a Friday home game at our school. I knew this because both girls were wearing cheerleader uniforms, which you could only do in class if it was a home game. The usual skirt was shorter than I remembered and did nothing to hide their diapers. I just gawked at them not even trying to hide what they were wearing. Skye had on a disposable with pink, yellow and light purple butterflies decorating it, and Ami with an i had something thicker under a pair of yellow plastic pants with three rows of ruffles on her bottom. “Hi Ms. Taylor,” both girls said in unison as they crinkled by. They gave me the side eye as they passed, which was business as usual, but … I just couldn’t stop staring. I even craned my head back like I was a Toucan or something trying to keep an eye on them as they walked by. Ami with an i noticed and did a little waggle of her butt at me causing the ruffles to flap in a flippant way. I made a face which must have resembled the caveman Spongebob meme, completely stupefied. Did I just get something like ‘the finger’ from a diapered butt? “Bye girls,” Ms. Taylor said not even slowing as she tugged me down the hallway. I struggled to form coherent speech as I was led. So many things did not make sense. I was barely a blip on Skye’s radar, I doubt she even knew my name. The chances of her debasing herself by wearing diapers just to pull a prank on me were very slim. As we turned a corner, we passed a few other students and it only served to deepen the creeping sense of dread I had coming over me. Kim from my earlier math class was wearing overalls with a pink heart on the front and a pacifier in her mouth. There was no way the slight bulge around her middle was anything other than a diaper. It was the same for Jason, a guy from my home room. His clothing was almost normal, with the exception of the low hanging jeans and the obvious diaper fringe poking out. “Why is everyone wearing diapers…?” I asked quietly as I was dragged along. From what I could see, EVERY student was in diapers. A few of them stopped and stared at me, one boy even gave a childish ‘ooooooOOOOooooo’ like I was in trouble and the whole school knew it. Ms. Taylor took me past the front office and over to the school nurse. Honestly, I didn’t really know the nurse that well, I think her name was Mrs. Fielder or Felding or something. She was a 40-something woman who was usually nice enough. She looked up as we approached and immediately fixed her gaze on me, quirking an eyebrow. “Little miss rebel here took her diaper off,” Ms. Taylor said. “Hmmm… Samantha Jones. First time she’s done this, I don’t see her in here much,” the nurse said as she turned to the computer at her desk. “No worries, I’ll see to her, let me just check her student file.” Ms. Taylor nodded, finally easing her grip off of my wrist. I was quick to yank it back, rubbing at a slight sore spot. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been dragged around like a naughty toddler. “She has a stock of disposables, Princess Padding specifically. They should be in her locker and I’d imagine in her backpack. I have extras in the back here too. Oh, and her parents authorized spanking, corner time, mouth soaping and enemas if she gets out of line,” the nurse said as she pushed herself up from her desk. “WHAT?!?!?!” I exclaimed. The nurse had just said some things, and I knew what these things were, but they did not make any sense in referencing me. She might as well have said that there are no cats in America and the streets are paved with cheese. The nurse was already getting something from her storage room and Ms. Taylor was gesturing for me to get up on an exam table. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, HELL NO. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO! I’m out, whatever you’re up to, whatever is going on here, I want no part of it,” I said as I bolted for the door. Ms. Taylor was fast, but when the words ‘spanking’ and ‘enema’ were mentioned in conjunction with my name, I WAS FASTER. My butt was on the line, literally. The door burst open and I was careening through the hallway like a pinball. I hit a trash can, knocked over some poor teen toddler boy, caused a teacher to drop an armful of papers. I tried to sputter an apology in passing but I didn’t stop moving. I crashed out the front entrance of the school and ran into the parking lot. I made a panicked dive behind a car to check if I was being followed. I half expected the school resource officer to come rushing out after me with a stun gun in one hand, diaper in the other. School hadn’t let out yet, so the parking lot was still mostly full of cars and empty of people. I waited two minutes and when no one seemed to be coming I tried my best to stay low and sneak from car to car until I was out of the parking lot and through the path that led to the suburbs just off school grounds. I was lucky enough to live close to the school. It was about a mile and a half, but I could cover that distance in 25 mins at a walk. I could do it in half the time running in a panic, which was exactly what I was doing. I managed to put some distance between me and the epicenter of insanity. I only slowed my pace as I got about a block from my house. The world seemed normal-ish… Houses looked the same. Birds in the trees, blue skies, cars on the road. Although looking twice, a lot of the cars driving by had really big safety seats in back. There were also a lot more Mini-vans then what seemed normal. I brushed that oddness from my head and hopped the fence to my backyard, rushing for my old treehouse. It was my tiny, rickety, fortress of solitude in this world. I rushed up the ladder and hunkered down. I don’t know how long I was there, but there was a vague sense of time passing as I sat there, knees hugged to my chest. I couldn’t stop muttering ‘diapers’ ‘cheerleader butt’ and ‘evil teachers and nurses’ over and over again. The irony that I’d picked my childhood safe space to escape too was not completely lost on me. I’m not sure how much time passed, but at some point I heard movement outside as someone started to climb up the leader to my little fort. I readied my legs. If a teacher, nurse, zombie or trickster god intended to put a diaper on me they were going to get a sketchers size 9 to the face. What came up instead took me completely by surprise. It was my neighbor Daniel, only it wasn’t. Daniel was a bookish and shy guy who liked to play video games and paint little miniatures. We were fellow nerds, and usually walked to school together. We’d been best friends forever. The difference between the Daniel I was used to, and the Daniel poking their head up was that this Daniel was a girl. The face was still the same, with light brown eyes and a pair of glasses that were a little too big, but his dirty blonde mop of hair was now well past his shoulders and held to one side with a cute flower hairclip. “Umm… Daniel?” Hearing the name seemed to almost be a slap in the face. She frowned as she started to climb the rest of the way into the treehouse. “It’s Dani. Why would you call me that?” she asked. “You’re a… girl?” Dani rolled her eyes. “Well, yah? I mean, I have been since I was like 7.” As she came into the treehouse, I got a good look at what she was wearing. She had on a cute wide neck sweater and a pair of short shorts. My eyes widened as I saw that her shorts bulged over a diaper with the fringe poking out around her mid-drift. “Not you too…” I sighed. Everything was so confusing… sooo wrong. “You are being hella rude right now. What’s wrong with you?” Dani asked as she sat down on her knees. She put her hands on her hips like she was a pouting parent talking to her errant child. It was a very odd look for her, one because she was wearing a diaper and looked pretty juvenile with the hair clip; and two because I actually did feel a little chastised for some reason. “I uh… Somethings wrong,” I said as I leaned away from her, shrinking before her pout that was actually way cuter than it had any right to be. “I’ll say, do you know what people are saying at school?” I shook my head no. “You took your diaper off and had to go to the office. Are you even wearing one right now?” Dani asked as she reached for my skirt. My hands quickly shot to my skirt to hold it down. The motion caused Dani to raise her eyebrow at me. “I’ll take that as a no… Sam, what’s going on? What happened to you today?” “What happened to me? What happened to you!? Why are you in diapers? Why are you a girl?!” Dani’s frown deepened and she sighed. I can’t stress how un-Daniel like this girl was. Where was the shy and timid guy that followed me around like a puppy? This girl had confidence and seemed very sure of who and what she was. “All right, I’ll play along. What happened to me is I came straight home out of concern for my best friend who I am pretty sure is in some trouble at school. I am in diapers because that’s normal, and I am a girl because that’s what I am.” My shoulders slumped a little. It couldn’t be that simple. I mean, sure Daniel was a little effeminate, and … she looked really good as a girl, but… How did this all change in a day? “Sam, what’s really wrong? You look like you’re about to cry. What on earth happened today?” “I don’t really know. Everyone is wearing diapers. Ms. Taylor tried to drag me to the nurse to put me in one too. You’re a girl when just yesterday you were a guy. None of this makes sense.” Dani considered what I’d said and leaned over to hug me. She crinkled as she moved and I was definitely not used to contact like this from Daniel, but when her arms came around me I immediately hugged back. “I think you’re really stressed, but lets work through this. Why does none of this make sense? Why don’t you want to wear diapers?” I shook my head. “Why WOULD I wear diapers?” “Because you’re not old enough to be potty trained,” Dani stated matter of factly. I blinked and eased myself out of the hug. “I am potty trained.” Dani looked very skeptical. “I AM!” “Suuuuure, let’s just ignore that diaper pail in your room that your mom is always getting on you to empty. I had to wear a clothespin on my nose when I came over yesterday,” Dani teased as she made a show of holding her nose. “WHAT?! Ewww, I’ve never, I mean, like, I’ve not worn a diaper since I was a baby.” Dani rolled her eyes again. “Would you stop doing that? I’m serious. I don’t need diapers. I’m potty trained. EVERYONE at school should be potty trained.” “Sam… no one our age is potty trained. Certainly not me, and certainly not you. Do you know how many times I’ve changed you after school? How many times you’ve changed me? Hell, how many times we’ve been changed side by side by our parents?” There was no way that was true. I had zero memories of it. This was a nightmare. A very real and very weird nightmare. I tried to add up 2 and 2 but kept getting something very different from 4. Dani saw me tearing up and was quick to put her hand on my shoulder. “Okay, lets assume for the sake of argument that you ARE potty trained. What’s wrong with diapers? Do you hate them?” I blinked, almost surprised by the question. “I… I just don’t want to wear them. Diapers are for babies. Until today I hadn’t even thought about diapers in years… I don’t want them and I don’t need them,” I said firmly. No sooner had I said it, then I felt a warmth beginning to spread between my legs. There was a soft pitter patter noise and both Dani and I looked down at the same time to see a growing wet pool quickly forming under me. Dani sighed. “Riiiiiight.”

I have been lurking for a long time and commenting for a little while. After reading so many great stories here and all around the internet, I wanted to try and write my own story. And whaddya know, why not a christmas story since it tis the season after all? This story is named after the christmas song of the same name, but really does not have anything to do with the song. (it's just my favorite christmas song). I was gonna call it something like Daria's Christmas in Diapers, but then I worried people might think it was fanfiction for the Daria cartoon... which it's not. The one thing it does have in common with the cartoon is that it takes place in 1997, which is when the cartoon first aired. And that is where the similarities end. So I guess that's it for intros. Please enjoy the story. Chapter 1 Daria was excited for the holidays, mainly Christmas, but also new years. It was almost Christmas. She was gonna go visit her Grammy and Papa for a week or so. School had let out early and the last day they barely even had to do anything! Some of it was even fun Christmas activities too, no homework either. There wouldn’t be any school until after the new year, but they were staying at Grammy and Papa’s for a little longer than that (her daddy said they might stay longer, but hadn’t said how long exactly). A week might not seem like very long to an adult, but to a nine year old like Daria it seemed like a long time. Her mind was racing with all sorts of things she could do while they were there. Her cousins would be there and would have their new toys and games. (Mary had a collection of Barbies that made Daria jealous) She hadn't seen her cousins in a few years, or so she remembered. “Are you all packed in there?” called her dad from downstairs. “Yes, daddy!” she yelled back a little annoyed. But she wasn’t packed just yet, she just didn’t want her daddy to come up and complain. He would probably say she wasn’t doing it right, but she had all her favorite clothes packed in her suitcase. She had to argue and beg a little to get him to let her pack her own things. A small victory won, and she was glad because he never packed the clothes she liked. All she needed now was to pack some toys and things to make the car ride less boring. It was several hours of driving to get out to her grandparent’s house, but for her it might as well be an eternity. She never liked long car rides, they always made her super bored. Her dad was yelling up the stairs again, something about getting ready. “And hurry up! When you’re done put your stuff in the car and come to the kitchen and feed David.” Daria didn't want to feed David, he always made a mess (and one time he threw all the food in her hair and it took forever to get it out). More importantly it was distracting her from her important task. She had a small pink Barbie backpack which she took with her everywhere. For the car ride it would hold all her toys to take along. She couldn't take her whole collection (that would be too big) but she packed two Barbies and several accessories. She wanted to show them to her cousins. She also packed a big coloring book, colored pencils, and a few sheets of glittery stickers. Most importantly she packed her Gameboy. She only had like games four games for it, but it was her favorite toy even though girls didn't usually play videogames. She currently had Micro Machines on loan from a friend. It was a really hard racing game but her friend said they beat it already so Daria had to beat it too or her friend would never stop teasing her about it. Once all her things were packed, she wasted a little time brushing her hair. She had long blonde hair which fell straight over her shoulders and all down her back. She had pretty brown eyes and a cheery face, but she always thought her hair was the most pretty part about her. She loved how long it was and how elegant. It made her look more grown up even though she was actually shorter than all her friends. When she was all packed and brushed, she took her backpack with her and went downstairs. The suitcase was too heavy so her father would have to get it for her. "Hay!" Yelled her dad when she was downstairs. "Go put your stuff in the car and then come right back here." Daria went outside and it was cold. There was some snow on the ground, but not much. The clouds were gray and looked like they might snow again, but she didn't have time to think about that. She rushed out to the car sitting in the driveway and put her backpack in the back seat. Then she ran back inside. Her dad was waiting for her when she came in and immediately handed off the task of getting David fed. David was two years old and a few months. He could eat by himself sometimes but he took too long and often made a mess. So for the next half a hour, Daria had to feed her little brother. He did end up making a mess, which was annoying because she had to clean it up. She put him down on the floor in the play room and let him play with toys while she wiped up all the spilled food from the high chair. Then she changed his diaper since he wasn't potty trained yet. Even if they would have been trying to get him to use the potty that day, he would be put in a diaper for the long drive to Grammy and Papa's. (he couldn't hold it for long and her dad didn't like making a whole bunch of stops.) Daria complained about having to change David's diaper since he pooped in it and it was totally gross. Her dad, who had conveniently avoided needing to deal with it, thought it was good. "I wish you had taken him to the potty, but it's a good thing he pooped now." He said. "Better then him pooping in the car and we have to find a place to stop and change him." Daria hated it when she had to change her brother’s poopy diapers. He never seemed to mind, and always ended up sitting on it and squishing it into an even bigger mess. She figured maybe it was just because boys always like making messes and girls don’t. Boys were so gross. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to sit in a gross stinky diaper at all, not to mention for any length of time. But David would just keep playing after pooping sometimes for over an hour if no one happened to check him or smell him. Daria wished she had a sister because a little sister wouldn't do that. Daria had to sit and watch David for a little while while her dad packed and got ready. She played with a little barbie doll (not the one she packed). She liked to make believe about being grown up and having a job at an important business. David played with blocks and kept asking her questions. “What are you doing?” “Playing with my Barbie.” Daria answered. “My bobby?” “No, my Barbie.” Daria said the words slowly. “Why you play wiff dat?” “I like it.” “Why?” “Because.” “Why because?” “Because I don’t know. Stop asking me questions.” Daria tried to concentrate and remember the little story she was trying to play out with her doll. David was quiet for a minute, then “why?” “Arg!” Daria got annoyed, but it only made David giggle. For like the hundredth time that week Daria wished she had a little sister. She could play barbies with a little sister, but David was a boy so she could not. He just kept playing with blocks and toy trucks and picking his nose. It seemed to be taking forever for them to be ready. David was getting on her nerves and kept asking questions. She tried to keep him busy so he wouldn’t fuss, but that just meant she couldn’t play on her own. Her dad had said something about the oil in the car, and he kept coming in and out of the front door looking more and more angry. Finally after more than another hour which felt like an eternity, her father came in and said everything was ready. He had already packed his and David’s stuff in the car, and Daria had packed her own stuff, so they just needed to grab coats and hats and gloves before they could leave. Daria used the bathroom. Their dad gave David a quick diaper change and then they left the house.

Planets and Pacifiers By Horatio Husky Ion engines engines efficiency at 87% Cooling system: normal Internal atmospheric composition: normal Navigation system: active Radiation shield: active Cargo Hold temperature: 282.9 degrees kelvin Cockpit temperature: 293.9 degrees kelvin Bridge temperature: 293.4 degrees kelvin Exterior temperature 2.7 degrees kelvin Complete system diagnosis: nominal Current Coordinates: 14.22524 tesseracts, 1532.24642 leths, 35.99946 endons Nebula Location Adjacency: Iago’s nebula “Yeah yeah yeah, stuff it.” A light orange fox lounged in a pilot’s seat, designed to be sat in in an upright, rigid position in order to maximize alertness in its user. Apollo did not seem to be so keen on respecting the design of the chair, for his posture gave off every impression except one of attention. He rolled his eyes and twirled a finger in his thick, yellow-dyed headfur. Did the machine really have to recite the information out loud every hour he thought to himself, as he yawned and stretched his arms and legs lethargically. A little shorter and light furred than most orange foxes his age, the 20 year old pilot was bored of his freight mission. “Work in the space fleet they said. It’ll be an adventure they said. You’ll rise through the ranks quickly they said.” he spoke aloud in a mocking tone, scrunching his face up and bringing his lip back, wagging his head in mock chipperness. The fox once again rolled his eyes, and glanced up at the various monitors in front of him, his well trained eyes picking out the pertinent pieces of information before him amongst the myriad of pointless stats and figures. The fox was driving a standard issue military freighter, loaded with food rations, armor supplies, energy cells, hygiene products, and other various necessities required by the military. A crucial job to keep the military sane, but still a very boring one. Apollo wished he wasn’t still such a low ranking pilot, and getting assigned a two month mission of just going from system to system had been taking a serious toll on his mind. He had grown tired of video games, movies, and even the virtual reality simulator, which unfortunately for him, had only demo access on the ship model he’d been stuck with. Cheap bastards. A notification appeared on one of the 9 monitors displayed on the glass in front of him, behind the glass a dual star system was fast approaching, the twin suns each radiating their light, as if to welcome the pilot to their system. The ship itself was shaped like the tip of an arrow, with a larger cylindrical portion hitched to its back, containing the various supplies. The dragon sperm was the nickname Apollo had unaffectionately dubbed his ship which he was more and more beginning to see as a prison of little stimulation. He waved a paw lazily, the dashboard registered his lackadaisical movement and opened the notification. A green x-ray image of what looked to be an abandoned station appeared in front of him, along with coordinates. His eyes glanced to them, and then excitedly sat up in his seat, boredom and self-pity forgotten. “It’s in the upcoming system, along the way!” he said aloud, ecstatic at finding such a relic. Running a quick diagnosis he was told that the station’s power system was in sleep mode as well as the on board AI, for how long it had been deactivated wasn’t specified, but the exterior looked as if it had taken a few decades of being beaten by the radiation pouring out by the sister stars only around 19 million kilometers away. Its primary objective for construction was also stated as infant care, which took him aback for a second. Recovering quickly, Apollo stuck his tongue out to the side of his maw, and excitedly concentrated at overriding the ship’s commands to continue on its passage, just for a quick stop to explore this obviously very important case of spatial exploration. He scratched at his white chest fur with a paw absentmindedly as he flipped a few switches, and pressing a button a semi-circle attached to a bar appeared, grasping the steering wheel he began to gently guide his ship towards the abandoned space station. “Haha!” he grinned to himself,”Finally I can actually use this piece of ship!” Grinning at his stupid pun, he approached the station. As he grew closer he noticed that it was larger than he expected, with a wide array of solar panels that seemed mostly intact, and surprisingly large ship loading and unloading docks. It’s gravitational anchor was a small, red looking planet which Apollo knew from his space class was probably due to oxidation of iron with the soil. Ignoring the planet he synced up his speed to the velocity of the station and chose a smaller landing area that seemed best sheltered from the radiation pouring from the center of the solar system. “Easy does it, come on you’ve done this dozens of times, YES!” exclaimed Apollo, as with a resounding noise the ship docked with the docking area, and the all too familiar hiss of an airlock engaged, connecting with the station. The scrawny fox giddily hopped out of his pilot’s seat and scampered his tail swishing excitedly over to his space suit. Almost shaking with glee, he quickly stepped into his space boots and allowed the system to place the rest of the suit on him. It couldn’t do it quick enough, however after a minute his helmet had set in place, and, clicking his heels together, the static adhesive pads activated on his boots and he stepped into the airlock. More hissing followed and the sounds of heavy metals moving was heard, and with a shudder, the airlock opened to reveal a more colorful spectacle than he had expected. A green light appearing on his helmet as he entered, he clicked a latch on the side of his space suit neck while also pressing a button on a wrist terminal on his left arm. With a sharp hiss, the helmet came off, and Apollo breathed in deeply. A strange yet oddly nostalgic smell entered his sensitive nostrils, and he frowned sniffing further, trying to identify the smell. “Is that… talcum powder?” he mused to himself, as he took a step further into the station. Along the walls were various infantile patterns of little cubs, kittens, puppies, and other children, some of them wearing little space suits and diapers, while others slept on crescent moons or floated through space, attached by a lifeline on a spacewalk exploring the galaxy. Cute, thought Apollo to himself, as he tapped his shoulder to activate a flashlight on it and after moving his eyes up and down and side to side, its beam synchronized with his own focused vision. He continued to walk through the facility, which was only lit by some of the twin star’s lights coming through windows that appeared every once in a while spanning from floor to ceiling, the red gravity anchor planet also reflecting the starlight into the station, giving it a soft, almost pinkish atmospheric light. On his way he passed a particularly sophisticated looking synthetic arm, hanging from the ceiling presumably via magnetism, for there seemed no obvious mechanic for it to be able to move from its spot as it hung dejectedly from the ceiling. “Aww man, is there going to be any loot in here? I really want to be able to show off to the others that I had an actual adventure!” Apollo complained, as he rounded into a corridor with several entrances. Picking the closest one to his left, the door opened automatically when he stepped in front of it to his great surprise, and revealed to him what looked like a room to change an infant’s diapers. A changing table with a menagerie of baby products stood as the centerpiece in the room, along with more depressed looking yet highly futuristic mechanical arms hanging above it, their skin a shiny white color and their exposed wire and machinery parts a glistening black. He noticed that the floor he’d been walking on was a rather soft looking blue carpet, and looking back the way he came he also observed that everything seemed to be designed with comfort in mind, for the safety of the children being taken care of here presumably. Clicking his wrist terminal, he tapped around until he found a locator, and followed the instructions on his monitor through a series of doors and corridors. Seeing much more of the cutesy tyke space exploration mosaic, he finally arrived at a hallway where he saw what looked like a terminal at the end. Striding over to it, he tapped experimentally on the large black screen. To his delight the screen illuminated, and he tapped through various windows until he arrived at an inventory and functionality list. His trained mind perusing quickly behind the boring details, he arrived at the description of the station’s purpose. “The primary objective of this institution is the cultivation and upbringing of infants through the first few stages of development; giving them an opportunity to develop stronger immune systems through systematic control of inoculation as well as stimulated development via exposure to an environment such as this space station, where the air, food, and lifestyle are all designed with the healthy and happy development of the child in mind. After the period of post-birth incubation is over, the children are then shipped out using a state of the art long-term space travel system to arrive at their final destination with highly stimulated beginnings and a matured immune system. As of this past century, the entire system has undergone a success in complete automation.” “Huh, a retro-nursery. Sure wish my parents stuck me in one of these before I turned 2, maybe then I could have become a cyborg engineer,” the fox muttered to himself sarcastically. He tabbed through more information screens, which just displayed various shipment records of supplies as well as a few analytics on the function of the energy system. Apollo was a little confused why the station was in a state of hibernation, for as he clicked through he realized that all of the systems in the place were running smoothly with no need for any major repairs. He frowned, and tried accessing an administrative tab to see if he could see if the station had been turned off intentionally. Something squeezed his shoulder and Apollo yelped loudly, ”BWAH!” His helmet which he’d been toting with him under his arm fell from his grasp, and landed softly on the carpet. Whirling around he found that one of the mechanical arms was firmly grasping his shoulder, tapping its index finger expectantly. He brushed away at it, but before he could try and get away from it it released him and pointed down the hallway to the right of the terminal, as if saying,”Come on bub, this way.” The fox blinked, then leaned down to pick up his fallen helmet, cocking his head to the side curiously,”I thought this place was in the hibernation mode.” As if to directly prove him wrong, the hall he was on became illuminated with cheery yellow lights, and he could hear whirring and clanging, as well as what sounded like a generator firing up somewhere in the institution. He looked around, bewildered but a little excited to see the station coming alive again. His excitement turned to a startled feeling however as the arm, seemingly rather impatient, grabbed his wrist and began tugging him down the hall at which it had pointed. Apollo protested, and tried yanking his way out of the arm’s grasp, but found himself comfortably yet firmly trapped in its vice, and all he could do was keep up with wherever it was leading him. His heart rate increased and he tried getting to his wrist terminal, but found that the jostling rate of the arm’s tugging didn’t allow him to punch in the code for a distress signal back to his ship. “Let go you piece of scrap! I’m the captain of a ship! Even though it’s a one man ship… Still a ship!” The arm utterly ignored his indignance as they rounded around a bend and the fox found himself back at the familiar hall with multiple entrances on the left and right. He was half lead half dragged into an entrance to the left, where he found himself faced with five more arms all expectantly holding various physician’s items and forms of measurement. Apollo was seriously starting to panic as the arm that lead him in released him only to immediately click a button on a panel next to the entrance and shut the door behind him. Two more arms descended from the ceiling and grabbed him by the upper arms, he thrashed and kicked, dropping his helmet once again and flailed, trying to get away from the metal captors. The arms began to assail their poor victim with the various instruments, looking inside his ears, forcing his jaw open to inspect his teeth with the instruments, grabbing at various muscles and one arm even had the gaul to gently squeeze his unspeakables. He yelped and twitched a little bit when that happened, yipping at an arm as it passed his head, furious with being manhandled without any consent. The arm that he had snapped at stopped moving, and quickly reversed direction back upwards into a surprisingly high ceiling. Noting that it seemed to reach for something high above him, it quickly descended back towards him and before he could react popped some sort of rubber bulb in his mouth. He tried spitting it out, but found that another arm was fastening something behind the back of his head which pulled on his cheeks, and with a muffled gasp he realized he was being gagged. Not just any gag though, as he moved the alien structure around in his mouth and attempted to suck on it, he realized the arm had stuck a pacifier in his mouth. “Em nawt a ba-MMM!” the bulb in the pacifier suddenly inflated in his mouth substantially, and Apollo found to his dismay that he was not longer able to open his mouth enough to even attempt to say words. He huffed into his pacifier, but before he could further reflect on his situation a panel appeared in the wall in front of him approximately a yard wide and tall, and looking closer he saw that a conveyor belt appeared to be moving inside of the panel opening. Jostling him the arms pushed him towards the conveyor belt and then lifted him onto it, he thrashed and flailed but to no avail, as he was deposited on the conveyor belt the panel shut behind him, and the only illumination was the flashlight on his space suit, which still followed wherever he gazed. The company which had designed the clever device warned strongly to never have it synced with in total darkness, for only seeing light in one’s central vision but never in their peripheral vision could cause bad paranoia and even hallucinations. Given the situation the fox seemed to have landed himself into, his paranoia was already sky high. He got himself up to his knees on the moving belt, only to have something thump him on the back back onto his stomach. He growled into his pacifier gag with frustration, and then began to panic as he felt something unzipping his space suit and grabbing the wrist with his personal terminal on it. The flashlight switched off, and the poor vulpine was thrown into complete darkness as the suit registered it was being taken off. Helpless and blind, the fox soon was being completely stripped of all clothing he wore. He shivered, terrified as his naked body continued to progress on the belt. He felt more things touching him, the machine examining every nook and cranny of his body, leaving him feeling completely helpless. Suddenly another panel opened, and he found himself being thrust unceremoniously into a pool of bubbly water. He spluttered, his thick yellow hair in his face. He tried to clear his eyes of hair but once again found his arms restrained and felt several brushes assault various parts of his body. Surprisingly pleasant, he was able to see past a break in his sopping wet hair that he was being scrubbed head to toe by more mechanical arms in what he guessed was a large bath. Unable to do much but allow himself to be cleaned, Apollo cursed his stupidity at not being more careful. “Still,” he thought,”once the system does whatever this integration protocol is or whatever, I’m sure when it’s satisfied I’ll be able to get back to my ship.” Confident in this assumption, he reluctantly allowed the arms to finish cleaning him, lifting him out of the tub and blasting him with air from vents below where they had deposited him. As the air shut off, his hair fluffed out. He groaned, he must really looked like a little kid with all his fur all over the place. He reached back to try and unfasten his pacifier gag, but wasn’t quick enough for once again an arm grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of the room, down the soft carpet, which the still naked Apollo now appreciated, and into the room he had first seen. Before him stood a changing table. “That is a big no from me,” thought Apollo, as to his dismay he was lifted up onto the table and had his wrists and ankles strapped to the corners. The poor fox whimpered, unhappy that he seemingly had lost all freedom and trust to do anything for himself. He winced and tried moving away from an arm that began to spread a white cream into his fur around his groin, on his bottom, and, tensing, around his sensitive bits. Another arm gently slid a hand under his lower back, and lifted him upwards. The fox looked down at himself, and saw that one arm was rising up clutching a thick, dark blue diaper with constellation patterns adorning it. The solar sailor squirmed and moaned in objection as the diaper was unfolded and slid gently under his quivering bottom. As he settled down on it he was surprised at the incredibly softness of the material against him. Another mechanical arm began applying generous amounts of baby powder in his diaper area, causing him to sneeze and shiver. Putting away the various infantile cosmetical supplies, the arms folded the front of the diaper over Apollo’s front, and snugly taped it in place, three tapes on each side. Apollo flexed his thighs and his buttcheeks, realizing that the soft padding was firmly in place. The corner restraints released, but before he could attempt to escape where previously the restraints held his wrists and ankles arms grasped him, lifting him out off of the changing table and unceremoniously carrying him out of the room, much to his displeasure. Trying to thrash and twist out of their grasp, the fox suckled nervously on his pacifier gag as he was carried into yet another room, inside of which were various mirrors and cabinets from the floor high up into the tall ceiling. The arms carried him to the center of the room, where he was able to see his pathetic state in one of the mirrors. His cheeks reddened, the fox was already a little bit on the small size, but the pacifier and the diaper did little to make him look like the adult he was. The poor pilot had gone from commanding his own ship to looking like he able to do little else than use his own diapers and suckle his pacifier. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed some more arms that had appeared from above shuffling through the cabinets. The four arms that had carried him in still firmly holding him in the air, and the arms that had been searching through cabinets soon descended on him with various items. He felt a pressure on his ankle, and looked down to see a slim black bracelet placed above his footpaw. A small red light appeared on it, which turned to green and quickly vanished. His tail curled around his thigh, right under his diaper. “I’ve just been tagged! Am I going to be imprisoned here? Why would they need to track me?!” he thought apprehensively. Something went over his ears and onto his head, then fastened underneath his chin. He looked up into the mirror to see what was being put on him but was blinded by yet another thing being pulled over his head. The arms meandered their way into releasing and grasping his limbs once again as he was forced into a piece of clothing. His head emerging, he saw in the mirror that he was garbed in a thick, and rather heavy infant gown with a bonnet fastened over his hair. Feeling incredibly humiliated and infantile, his indignance was further increased as the arms thrust his hands into blue rounded mittens, and locked them in place with a touch of a finger on the wrist cloth, a lock symbol glowing briefly, telling Apollo he was not getting out of them any time soon. “Blasted station! How on earth is such a sophisticated looking system mistake an adult for a newborn infant?!” he once again thought to himself in frustration and panic. He moaned desperately into his pacifier, realizing that he may not be able to get of his situation as soon as the machine was done babying him. He’d have to wait until the machine left him alone with some time and he could figure out somehow how to get his gag and mittens off. Seeing how his clothes and wrist communicator had been confiscated by the machine, he’d have to do some exploring through the facility to voice activate it. In an all too familiar motion the arms grabbed his limbs and raised him up once more, parading him out of the room and down the hallway. They traveled for a longer period than previously, and Apollo was able to marvel at the true size and infantile design the station sported. It really made him feel as if he were inside a giant nursery, designed to make the environment as soothing and babyish as possible with the patterns on the wall, soft curves of the corners, and the ever persistent smell of baby powder lingering in the air. Or maybe that was just him,”Ugh…” thought the fox to himself,”Where on earth are these things taking me?” After a minute more of being carried through the various passageways they arrived at a large arch, above which was written ”Incubation Pods.” Apollo’s pacifier would have dropped from his agape mouth had it not been snuggly strapped in. The room they entered was gigantic, several hundred meters from wall to wall, ceiling to ceiling, with wide pathways in the center allowing access to both mechanical arms and any bipeds or quadrupeds wanting to admire the space and walk through it. Between tall, narrow windows revealing the gorgeous outer space outside were several spacious pods, around three meters long and two meters wide. Apollo’s question of what was inside of the pods lining the walls was soon answered as the arms magnetic rail connection clipped onto a vertical rail line and he began to ascend upwards. Although a pilot, Apollo still was rather uncomfortable with large heights and with no titanium and carbon fiber vessel to hold him securely in place he tensed with apprehension as the arms carried him upwards. Maneuvering towards a pod in the center of the room, a few pods away from the nearest vertical window the fox saw that the interior was lined with soft, blue padding, a thick fleece blanket covered the middle, and several large fluffy pillows and a few choice large stuffed animals were contained within the pods. The upper half was made of a clear substance, and one of the pods lifted this translucent lid slightly with as hiss as the arms approached with their prey: the poor, rather babyishly garbed fox pilot. Presuming that he’d be put in one of the pods Apollo once again resumed his struggles, now in bigger earnest than before. He kicked and thrashed, yelling into his gag in anger as he exerted himself. His elbow connected with something hard, and he felt a rather nasty pain coming from his arm but realized with delight he must have succeeded in causing some damage. He glanced down, just in time to see one of the arms shattering into a million pieces on the walkway below. Looking up, he saw the end of what remained of the arm, sparking with electricity. Using his now freed arm he reached to attack the others that held him, but almost wet his newly acquired padding instead. Two dozen arms were now surging towards him, they grabbed his arms, legs, torso, and head, with the firmness increasing more and more as he attempted to resist them. They deposited him into the pod, pulling back the heavy looking blanket several arms pulled out several straps and folds hidden within the seams of the internal bedding. A harness with straps thick enough to almost constitute as clothing were drawn across his torso and crotch, tightly fastening them by what looked like velcro the fox. He tried moving and pawing at the restraints with his mittens, but found that it held him tightly in place in the center of the pod. He threw his head back and harrumphed in frustration as the arms retreated from the pod, the glass covering sealing back into place leaving the pilot to his own thoughts. He squirmed, pathetically tring to his use mittened paws to grasp at his secured torso, his pacifier, and the bonnet on his head tied under his chin. “This is humiliating,” he thought to himself,”I’ll never be able to live this down if anybody finds out, but how the hell am I supposed to escape if every time I do anything I get swarmed by those wretched arms!” He gasped slightly, and suckled on his pacifier a few times before consciously stopping himself when he realized what he was doing. “That’s it! I just have to do exactly what the system wants me to do and behave like a baby, then pull a fast one at the last minute!” Had he not been limited in his mobility, Apollo would have patted himself on the back for such an ingenious idea. Before he could further congratulate himself on being the smartest space pilot in the entire galaxy he jumped with surprise as a panel in the side of the bedding of the pod appeared out of nowhere, and more arms appeared. Gods above he was getting really sick of him he thought, as he wearily watched them approach him. Unstrapping the pacifier gag behind his head, the fox had hardly an opportunity to say anything until another rubber stopper was deposited firmly in place. He frowned, biting down on it. A squirt of sweet liquid came into contact with his tongue, and he looking down he saw a large baby bottle had been placed into his maw, patterns of stars, comets, and planets adorning it. The liquid inside of the container was a slight pink color, and as the fox took an experimental suckle on the thing, realized it was flavored strawberry. Apollo loved strawberries, and against his better judgement listened to the anguished growl that arose from his stomach as he realized he had not eaten in quite a while. Mentally shrugging, he allowed himself to be fed from the bottle, the contents tasted like a creamy strawberry milkshake, one of his favorite treats as a young kit back on his home planet. His eyelids drooped, and the interval between each suckle on his baba lengthened. A soothing female voice suddenly began to filter into the little crib pod, whispering little nothings into his ear, cooing and admiring on how incredibly cute and sweet he was. Apollo’s ear twitched and and a drol smile spread across his face, feeling surprisingly content albeit the situation. He wondered why he’d been so worked up just a few minutes ago. Why fuss? He was snuggly secured in his little crib, and his belly was full of delicious strawberry flavored milkshake! He wriggled comfortably, feeling almost fuzzy with coziness. He hardly noticed as the arms withdrew the bottle from his milk stained lips to be once again replaced with the pacifier gag, pulled the heavy blanket onto him, moved a pillow under his head, and placed a large, red dragon plushie in his arms, which he sleepily hugged tightly to himself with both arms. The little pilot’s consciousness dripped, then ebbed, and then slowly sank into a deep sleep, his breath slowing and his mind set at an ease he hadn’t experienced since he had been a little kit oh so many years ago. Apollo would barely remember this occurring later, but after what must have been only a few hours he woke up, but still felt incredibly sleepy from his deep sleep. He squirmed uncomfortably, and found that his surroundings were dark. His mind still in the clouds of hypnos, he tried to get up to empty his bladder. For some reason he wasn’t able to, and his still incredibly sleepy mind didn’t want to put forth more effort than it had to. He settled back down, and as he drifted back to sleep he felt a warm dampness spreading near the front of his crotch. His previously very full bladder now relieved, Apollo snuggled his cheek against the dragon plushie he hugged tightly, his padding now a little bigger and more tightly pressed against him than it had been previously. Apollo let out a sigh, and went back to sleep. ~ ~ ~ His vision was blurry and the light too harsh for his dark-accustomed eyes. He raised a paw to shield them from the brightness, and as his eyes went back into focus he saw the locked mitten still fixed on his hand. The events that had recently happened to him came flooding back, and suddenly he was wide awake. Shifting around to check if he was still secured in the straps, he felt something damp in his diaper. A feeling of shock and slight dread filled him, as he moved around further. “Did I wet myself when I slept?!” his mind screamed, as he brought his thighs together. To his dismay the absorbent material inside his diaper squished and crinkled, confirming his suspicions. His stomach gurgled, and his anxiety intensified as he realized that he had not used the toilet in a very long time. A pressure began to form on his lower abdomen, building up and pressing on his furry behind. Groaning he covered his face with his mittened paws and unconsciously suckled on his pacifier, he clenched his cheeks together, refusing to give up this aspect of his adulthood. The battle was waged for several minutes, but Apollo saw how it would eventually end. He whimpered, the pain beginning to register a higher intensity as he tried not to mess himself. A tear welled up in his right eye, and with a defeated cry muffled from his pacifier the contents of his bowels thundered into the backseat of his padding. He leaned forward slightly, bringing his legs up only to be hindered by the heavy blanket still weighing down upon him. The warm messed ballooned into his diapers, spreading out slightly into the front of his diaper. His release had been complete, for along with the back he had also wet the front even more. Apollo, military space pilot, captain of the ‘dragon sperm,’ had helpless used his diapers like a baby. No readjustment or movement allowed him to get away from the mess in his pants, the crinkling was muffled by the blanket as he shifted, the restrictive straps further pressing the padding onto his body as the material had swelled with his multiple instances of wetting. He lay there for what felt like an hour, during which he once again wet his diapers. “I must have been drugged, why would my body be reacting like this just because I’m dressed in baby clothes?” He shook his head, cursing himself for being so stupid as the puzzle pieces fell into place. They must have given him quite the cocktail to have completely incapacitated him to the point of being unable to keep his pants clean. “Good morning piddlepants!” a voice rang through the pod, jumping Apollo out of his revery. He looked around confused, the voice behind the exclamation was the same as the AI announcer voice he had heard before his rather lengthy nap, and it surprised him to be hearing it addressing him so directly. “How’s our little baby boy today! Did we use our diapers last night? Good little babies use their diapers and let their mommies and daddies love them for it!” Blushing at the infantile talk, Apollo saw through the glass that several arms were approaching his pod, clutching various changing supplies they approached, reaching into it as with another hiss the upper dome opened. Moving the blanket off of the little pilot they worked at unstrapping him out of the bundle and unclothed him until only his used diaper was open to the air. The smell hit his nostrils and he whimpered, a feeling of complete helplessness coursing through his mind as the arms held his own above his head and untapped his diaper. Cool, soothing baby wipes began wiping his messed fur, and he was slightly relieved that the arms were doing a good job at cleaning his accident from his body. The diaper was wrapped up, and a cream and powder was once again generously applied to his diaper area, his boy parts and cheeks rubbed with the substance to ensure maximum coverage. Cringing at the infantility of it all, he was both glad and dismayed when another, even thicker, diaper was placed beneath his raised behind, and he was securely fastened back into thick padding, the tapes snuggly ensuring he was nice and comfy inside of his thick underpants. The arms did what they did best and grabbed and lifted him up, his heart falling somewhere into his thick padding as he was retrieved from inside of the pod and carried back down onto the walkways in the middle of the vast space. At the bottom he saw what looked like a carriage, and found himself being placed into a thick, cushy bag of sorts. His arms were wrapped around himself and his knees were brought up to his chest. The fox squirmed, not uncomfortable but confined in what the fox took to be an oversized bunting bag. The arms placed and secured him into the carriage, strapping the bunting bag in over his chest and legs. Apollo could only suckle on his pacifier still lodged in his mouth and squirm as he was lead out of the giant room and further into the station. Something about the structure of the station where he was traveling through rang a bell, and he realized that they must be heading towards the main docking station he had spotted earlier when looking for an appropriate entrance. One of the arms delicately pushed the carriage through the station, and after what seemed like the longest hallway in the entire facility they emerged into another open space, smaller than where the pods were kept but still impressively large. The docks overlooked the vastness of space and were separating the bubble of air that Apollo relied on by a pink force field which buzzed quietly. Apollo was lifted out of his carriage and saw out of the corner of the force field window about half of his ship, still docked where he had left it. His heart leaped up in excitement, as he began to struggle even more against his bonds, hoping the ship would register his distress through the force field and send a signal for help. Help arrived at that very instant, but not the kind that the pilot expected. Another military freighter arrived, decelerating as it approached his docked ship, and Apollo whooped into his pacifier as he saw it approach his ship. His vision was blocked as the arms placed him into a small ship he hadn’t noticed. Seeing his reflection in one of the arm’s shiny white limbs he saw a picture of a stork in a spacesuit flying a ship with the words, ”Baby on board” written across its side. A glass seal then slid in front of him as arms located inside of the little space vessel secured him into a small baby seat, like the carseats he had seen kits being placed in when going on car trips. His pacifier gag was removed, and a bottle was thrust in instead, he bit down on the nipple of the bottle clenching it shut, he refused to be drugged again, he refused to be babied, he wanted release! A sweet, tinkling melody began playing from the speakers in the ship, and the voice of the AI once again began to coo at him, reassuring him that everything was going to be alright, that he was just a little helpless infant, and that he was well loved and comfortable. The ship rumbled, and the engines fired. As the little vessel rocketed out of the station, he saw way off in the distance the new freighter that had arrived, towing his old ship behind it as the ion engines reached maximum velocity. Apollo looked up in dismay and frustration at realizing that the new ship had not noticed his plight, and saw that a mirror was placed above him. He gawked at his appearance. The pilot was small for his age true, but now he looked even fluffier, shorter, and younger than he had before. With a bit of effort, he pulled his arms out of the bunting bag and examined his mittened paws. It was true, they seemed stubbier and shorter for some reason. The arm holding the bottle in his mouth squeezed it, and the fox found he was no longer able to contain the liquid from entering his mouth. As the liquid poured into his mouth the effect was almost immediate, he relaxed, his arms laying down by his sides as the babyseat began to rock forwards and backwards slightly, a slight vibration starting at the front and back seat of his diaper as the seat worked away at his tense nerves. The stars outside of his window twinkled, and the voice informed him that he should be excited for the future. His new mommy and daddy were waiting for their new baby. Apollo felt a release happen, and uncontrollably wet the front of his diaper. The sweet, strawberry solution tasted rich and creamy as allowed himself to be fed. His mind felt once again at ease, why should he care about his freighter? He was only a little kit! Piloting ships was something big furs did, not little baby ones! His eyelids grew heavy, and the fox began to doze contentedly; the ship cruised through the ethers of space, gently rocking the little fox to a pleasant sleep. The last thing his eyes saw before they dropped were the twin suns, their bright light still warmly radiating into space, now as if to wish him a farewell. ~ ~ ~ Do you enjoy reading my content? Check out my other stories on my page or follow me on Twitter or FA! Twitter: https://twitter.com/horatiohusky FA: https://www.furaffinity.net/user/horatiohusky/