Padding Depression

[runtashea]

For an embodiment of depression, Depression Kitty couldn’t have found such good appetizers. The purple fat cat wanders into a room with a pair of whimpering females. One, a blue cat, is mumbling something in her crib in her full, leaking, diapers. The other, who’s species is hard to determine, is wobbling about in a nesting doll of a bimbo poodle. This’s female’s sobs and distraught eyes betrayed the doll’s ‘dick-sucking’ lips and happy-go-free vibe.

            “Such wonderful children.” Depression Kitty hovers over to the cat. Smiling at her fellow feline, Depression Kitty pinches the cat’s cheeks. “You’re supposed to be the best of the best. Now here you are, packing pampers.” The cat, had it not been for the paci-gag, would’ve given her an earful. At the very worse, she could’ve blasted Depression Kitty into the ceiling. Of course, it would be impossible because of the power nullification collar around her neck.

            Depression Kitty slithers over the cowering nesting doll. Eyes locked, Depression Kitty leans in closer, “And you’re just where every poodle belongs: out of sight and out of mind. You’re not getting out of this unless it involves a nice dicking.” She kisses the doll’s painted lips, purring. These two were perfect appetizers for the main course. Speaking of main course…

            Deborah enters the room with a devious smile. The padded cat and encased poodle shift stares between the Dalmatian and Depression Kitty. Could she not see Depression Kitty or was it just them? Either way, Deborah wanders to the blue cat and gropes her drenched padding. There’s a frustrated grunt from the cat, but her meager protest only made Deborah laugh.

            “You honestly thought you’d be a match for me, huh little kitty? Thinking you could actually hurt Mommy.” Deborah gives the blue cat a quick peck to the forehead. “You certainly belong in diapers, doncha? Don’t worry, Mommy will get you a fresh diaper shortly.”

            Depression Kitty, unable to contain her enjoyment, lays on top of the padded feline. Purring, she hugs her fellow feline. This cat’s misery was so delicious. Without thinking, Depression Kitty licks the cat’s face, grooming her.

Just a bit more with this one then onwards to Deborah, she thought. Perhaps if she had been paying attention, she might’ve got away. The key thing she was ignoring: Deborah was scratching Depression Kitty’s head.

“Oh Azalea, I’m sorry if you thought I meant you. I was referring to my new kitty. I’m thinking of naming her Fluffy.” Depression Kitty’s purring came to a complete stop. Unless that poodle was going to have a species change, that could only mean one thing.

Just like Azalea and the poodle, Deborah could see Depression Kitty.

“Get off me, fat bitch!” Azalea kicks Depression Kitty off her onto the floor. She tries to phase out of the room, gasping at her failure. Deborah wags a digit as she ‘tsk tsk’ her soon-to-be kitten. Depression Kitty scurries over to the open door, failing to notice the trap door opening right at the doormat.

Azalea and Deborah approach the hole she fell through, glancing at each other.

“Can I go now?” Azalea asks.

“Of course. I have a diaper bag by the door for you on the way out.” Deborah nods. Tapping two claws against themselves, Azalea’s face reddens. After the enema she received, she’s aware that she’ll probably need diapers for a bit. Although with that thought in mind…

“Could you change me, first?” The request was barely audible. Deborah heard it though. During Azalea’s time with her, it was music to her ears. She takes Azalea’s paw and leads her to the changing table.

xxx

            Depression Kitty lands on a cold, unforgiving, conveyor belt. Just like in the dungeon…nursery(?) whatever that room was, she tries to phase out. Of course, it ends in failure. If she had more time, she’d figured out what was crippling her, but that time would never come. Rings are launched from various chutes, each landing around her limbs. Each emits a red-tinted light and forces her onto her back.

            Try as she might all efforts to run and escape were meaningless. Depression Kitty was now completely within Deborah’s control. She too would learn what it felt like to be completely powerless.

            Signifying this is the conveyor belt slow movement towards her fate. There, she’s met with smiles. Thousands upon thousands of dolls stocked neatly on shelves staring at her. They varied in species yet shared a common trait: all wore diapers.

A set of mechanical arms loom over her then take their respective places, awaiting their new charge. Screaming, she summons all her strength to escape and phase away. It all left her tired out.  Perfect for Deborah’s machine. Sighing, she simply accepts her it. Depression Kitty had no way to escape her fate.

At the first stop, the gravity enhancers around her legs lift them up, an extra-large pillow sliding underneath her. A second glance at the tapes confirms it to be a diaper. A canister of powder blasts away at her rear and crotch.  After cutting a few slits, the arms slowly tape the diaper around her waist. Each passing second served as a reminder of her fall from grace.

How could this happen to someone like me? I make people depress. I don’t get depressed, she thought to herself. A gentle pat to her crotch makes her blush. The second diaper, somehow larger than the first one, is shown to her front and back. The front reads ‘Miss Kitty’ while the back reads ‘Fluffy Bottoms’.

Was that her name now, Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms? She hisses, detesting the idea of such a name. Not that the machine dressing her, or Deborah would care. Regardless of her disapproval, the second diaper is taped over the first one. If she had any plans to simply remove the diapers afterward, she wouldn’t have the opportunity. A pair of clear locking rubber pants are forced over both diapers.

Onto the next station, an adorably frilly dress hover over her. The color of the dress was a darker shade of purple than her fur, complete with polka-dots of a lighter shade than her fur too. While adorable, it certainly seemed tacky. Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms… NO! Depression Kitty deserved better than this.

“Don’t ya got-” Another ring, designed more like a cat collar, is fitted around her neck. A red tint emits from this one, rendering her braindead. Well not exactly braindead. With this fifth ring, she was no longer in control of her body. She’s aware of everything that’s happening and can feel herself in her body; however, she’s completely and utterly at Deborah’s mercy.

The hands force her to sit up, then force her to raise her paws. The dress is unceremoniously fitted over her. A comically large bib, reading ‘Not Fat, Just Fluffy’, is tied around her neck. The rings around her legs and arms loosen, allowing a pair of mittens and booties to be fitted over her paws. Afterward, they tighten again for a snugger fit.

At the end of the conveyor belt, Deborah awaits baring a smug grin.

“Well hello Miss Kitty Fluffy Bottoms,” Deborah greets. Somehow, she cradles Depression Kitty, despite her enormous size in one paw. With her free paw, she retrieves a bottle from her diaper bag. Taking a seat in a rocking chair near her machine, the Dalmatian feeds her new kitten.

There was certainly an irony of this entire situation. Those depressed often feel like they’re unable to control their situation. Sometimes paralyzed. Now Depression Kitty, an embodiment of that concept, would experience what she’s made others feel.

[Sarah Penguin]

[runtashea]

Thanks.

[Big-baby-bear99]

Koop

[runtashea]

1 hour ago, Big-baby-bear99 said:

Koop

Koop?