Unfair: A Diaper Dimension Novel (Chapters 115 Uploaded!)

[YourFNF]

47 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

By the way, that earlier exchange got me thinking about Amazonian culture and biology a bit...

What if the obsession with having babies stems from the fact that so many Amazonian women are infertile?  What if it's a biological "adaptation" of societal pressure for the few fertile Amazonians to have as many babies as possible, crank 'em out as fast as they can, that spills over into the infertile women?  Like, the hormonal drive that leads fertile women to have babies constantly until they can't anymore is also the hormonal drive that makes all Amazonian women go crazy when they see creatures that aren't babies, but, "close enough for government work"...

 

But one thing that's always bugged me...... If the Amazons have all this advanced tech.... Why not just fix the fertility problem? You could theoretically make gametes from stem cells and then do IVF and it should honestly be trivial for them. Unless someone in government has deliberately blocked this to maintain power through the apartheid state?

[BabySofia]

1 hour ago, YourFNF said:

But one thing that's always bugged me...... If the Amazons have all this advanced tech.... Why not just fix the fertility problem? You could theoretically make gametes from stem cells and then do IVF and it should honestly be trivial for them. Unless someone in government has deliberately blocked this to maintain power through the apartheid state?

I think part of it is the almighty dollar. The little subjugation industry is worth nearly one-and-a-half-trillion extra dollars above the baby industry worldwide each year for care products. (Baby industry is about 80 Billion a year world-wide here, figure the extrapolation from three years of baby products to now just sixty years of little lives...) That's not including the daycare/robotic nursery and care industry they have. I figure it's like the old monopoly on cigarettes by Philip Morris. I'm sure the government wheels are greased too, but if you prevent treatments so you can make more money it makes sense.

[WBDaddy]

16 minutes ago, BabySofia said:

I think part of it is the almighty dollar. The little subjugation industry is worth nearly one-and-a-half-trillion extra dollars above the baby industry worldwide each year for care products. (Baby industry is about 80 Billion a year world-wide here, figure the extrapolation from three years of baby products to now just sixty years of little lives...) That's not including the daycare/robotic nursery and care industry they have. I figure it's like the old monopoly on cigarettes by Philip Morris. I'm sure the government wheels are greased too, but if you prevent treatments so you can make more money it makes sense.

I have an idea that sprung forth out of this.  Not making promises, but you might see something new from me by year's end addressing the concept. 

[BabySofia]

20 minutes ago, WBDaddy said:

I have an idea that sprung forth out of this.  Not making promises, but you might see something new from me by year's end addressing the concept. 

That would be awesome! 

[Baby Billy]

On 8/23/2020 at 12:52 PM, BabySofia said:

That would be awesome! 

Little thomus is posting an answer to this in the Age of the amazon showing that years ago the government made the decision to stop any research on this subject and to kill any attempt made in the future.   

[Personalias]

On 8/23/2020 at 12:29 PM, BabySofia said:

I think part of it is the almighty dollar. The little subjugation industry is worth nearly one-and-a-half-trillion extra dollars above the baby industry worldwide each year for care products. (Baby industry is about 80 Billion a year world-wide here, figure the extrapolation from three years of baby products to now just sixty years of little lives...) That's not including the daycare/robotic nursery and care industry they have. I figure it's like the old monopoly on cigarettes by Philip Morris. I'm sure the government wheels are greased too, but if you prevent treatments so you can make more money it makes sense.

 

On 8/23/2020 at 12:39 PM, WBDaddy said:

I have an idea that sprung forth out of this.  Not making promises, but you might see something new from me by year's end addressing the concept. 

 

2 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

Little thomus is posting an answer to this in the Age of the amazon showing that years ago the government made the decision to stop any research on this subject and to kill any attempt made in the future.   

In short, there are many different answers, because every writer has a right to their own take on the DD and the setting, despite the multitude of common elements.  Just take what you like from each story that you read and appreciate them  on their own individual merits, not whether or not something conflicts with already established canon from another writer.

[WBDaddy]

3 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

Little thomus is posting an answer to this in the Age of the amazon showing that years ago the government made the decision to stop any research on this subject and to kill any attempt made in the future.   

Has nothing to do with explaining stuff.  Just a cool idea.  For an interesting new wrinkle. 

[Baby Billy]

One of the things that I like about the Diaper dimension stories is are no real rules about the world.  Most agree a little is under 6 feet tall but the size of the amazons and the countries are up to the author.  I have seen amazons 7 to 12 feet and 11 to 16 feet, it really depends on what the author wants. 

[Personalias]

Chapter 6: Down Rabbit Holes  

That evening, Cassie and I were indulging in one of our favorite couple’s past times.  Scouring the internet in our room and talking shit. Both of us were in our bedroom:  Me at the desktop, Cassie on her laptop.  Only the soft glow of our screens illuminated us.

She sat propped up on pillows on the bed; a glass of wine sitting next to her nightstand.  Likewise, I click-clacked away with a sugary energy drink sitting on top of our printer. I really should have poured it in a glass.  The can was too big for me to finish in one sitting if I wanted to get to bed at a decent hour.  I’d probably just drink the room temperature leftovers the next morning when I checked my email.  Oh the pitfalls and advantages to living in a world that is too Big for you.  Both of us were naked for no other reason than it was our house and we had the privacy and freedom to not wear clothes.  

Naked in a house that was darn near a mansion to us with food and drink in portions that was just this side of gluttonous.  

Life was good.

But not too good.

“Oh here’s one,” Cassie said.  “Billionaire’s success depends on adopted Little.  Some kind of programming genius.”

“What does her being a programming genius have to do with who she adopted?’

“The Little’s the genius.”

“Fake news,” I said without even looking back.

“You don’t think a Little can be a programming genius?”

“Not what I mean,” I said.  “I mean that if a Little computer genius got caught, there’s no way an Amazon would let them take credit for it.”

I heard Cassie set her wineglass down after a sip.  “This one is supposedly hacking and leaking stuff from inside their crib.”

“Link?”

“Sending.”

I looked at the thread.  Hmm….maybe.  Unlikely.  But maybe.  “Why would an Amazon give a Little that good at computers their own computer?”

The bedsprings creaked a bit as Cassie shifted around.  “Maybe they think the Little is mind fucked enough where the Little is trusted.”  Cassie and I didn’t use words like “regressed” or “infantilized” around each other.  We definitely didn’t use terms like “maturosis” or “developmental plateau” or  any of the other bullshit words used to justify or cushion what the Amazons did to their Baby Dolls. 

 Mind fucked was mind fucked.  End of discussion.

“I don’t know,” I said.  “Could be a weird reverse psychology ploy.”

“How so?”

I prepped my best mocking tone.  “Oh look,” I said. “There’s a brave Little who gets captured and mindfucked, but look how much she’s appreciated and needed and ALMOST an equal in this mega corporation.   It’s putting a positive spin on mind fuckery.”  

“Hmmm…”

“Hmmm…”

And we let it drop.  Next link.

“How about this?” I said.  “It claims an Amazon etiquette school is an equal opportunity mind fuck factory.  Even having Amazonian teens and college students regressed to the delight of their parents.”

“That’s bullshit,” Cassie said.  “More equal opportunity bullshit.”  Now it was Cassie’s turn to do the mocking voice.  “Oh look. See? We diaper and mindfuck EVERYBODY. That makes it okay and all the Littles who we take and imprison clearly deserve it.”

“Fair point.”

We were on MistuhGwiffin.web.  A not quite-dark-web-site run by and frequented by Littles.  There, Littles anonymously posted and leaked bits of news, trends, and rumors as warnings to others.

  The name was an in-joke from an old black and white horror movie: The Invisible Littles. Three Littles got into their mad-scientist “Daddy’s” stuff and turned invisible, wreaking havoc and causing worry to the entire town. 

 The iconic image from the movie involved the three pretending to be an Amazon “adult”, standing on each other’s shoulders and hiding in a trenchcoat with bandages and sunglasses on the top Little’s face. Their alias?  “Mistuh Gwiffin,” because of course a Little in a work of Amazonian fiction is going to have a babyish speech impediment.

Typical.

MistuhGwiffin was how Littles in the know stayed ahead of the game.  Amazons kept innovating ways to take us and mindfuck us, so we had to innovate ways to warn each other.  Cassie and I visited at least once a week just to see the gossip and follow links down the rabbit hole.

The rumors were usually poorly sourced and suspect, often only linking back to a “legitimate” piece of Amazonian news propaganda, and the threads and suppositions therein rambled to the point of going around in circles, but just thinking about it kept us sharp.  It made us paranoid, but that paranoia kept us free.  If not for MistuhGwiffin, something like the training chocolates might have gotten me.  

As for this particular night: It was helping me keep my mind off of the coming Friday.

And as a final note, it was fun to laugh at the more ridiculous ones.  “Shrink ray?” Both me and Cassie had a good laugh at that one.  If size changing technology was really a thing, then there would be no difference or justification between Littles, Tweeners, and Amazons.  If size were an option, everyone would be on equal footing from the get go...at least nearer. 

There was no chance that Amazons would even pursue that route.  Lunatics or Dictators, it would undermine so much about their place in society.  And if they did stumble into that, they’d bury it deep and dark; deeper and darker than even MistuhGwiffin could dive.

“Oh look look look!  Rumors of de-aging tech!”  Cassie almost shrieked with laughter. “Yeah, Amazons discover immortality and they use it on each other to make permanent Baby Dolls instead of..y’know..LIVING FOREVER!”  

Not all Amazons were brilliant scientists or master manipulators.  Likewise, some Littles were either very very paranoid or very very dumb.  Most claims of that magnitude- shrink rays and youth serums and body swappers- were done by Littles seeking attention or Tweeners and Amazons not clever enough to come up with a credible lie.  MistuhGwiffin was a well guarded secret, but it would have been naive to think that it was impenetrable.  

On a more sinister note, sometimes Cassie and I entertained the idea that a lack of credibility was the point.  Flood the net with enough ridiculous stuff, and the real threats seemed less believable.  Sew discord amongst the ranks so that Littles didn’t trust each other.

Right then, though, we were just perusing and looking for a way to pass the time before bed.

Cassie called over from the bed.  “Nanny-Bots?”

“What about them?” 

“They’re popping up everywhere.  Link, link, link.  Thread thread thread.  I thought they’d be a fad along with all those mechanized nurseries, but they’re still catching on.” 

I ground my teeth.  Robo nurseries had been a thing a few years ago.  Studies showed that they were harmful to a Little’s Developmental Plateau.  Really, I think the Amazons’ baby crazy just outweighed their tech crazy.  Nevermind the hit to their economy.

Robo nannies?  Very real, sadly.  Still a thing.  There was nothing I could add to the conversation.  “Yeah.” I said,  “Sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Not something we have to deal with, right?  Not in Oakshire?”  I could hear the anxiety rising in Cassie’s voice.  

I turned around in my chair.  “Actually…”  Oakshire was a little podunk town, relatively speaking.  Still.  Couldn’t keep “progress” from marching on.

“There’s not one at your work, is there?!”  Cassie legitimately sounded panicked.

I rattled my head.  “No-no-no-no...it’s still just Beouf and Zoge.  I’ve just heard them talking about a used one being donated to New Beginnings.”

I watched Cassie shiver and down the last of her wine.  “Fuck that.”  

I got up and hopped in bed next to her, letting her lean into me.  “It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay.”

“I mean, it’s not okay, it sucks.  But we’re surviving.”

We nuzzled, rubbing our heads into each other like two cats. “Yeah,” she said.  “Yeah.  You’re right.”  We held each other for a few minutes, laying naked in the darkness until my computer monitor went to sleep.

Cassie sat back up and I scooted over, each of us sharing half of her laptop.

We kept digging farther down various rabbit holes.  “Little convicted of murdering her Mommy sentenced to experimental new treatment?” I read.

“Might be real,” Cassie said.

“The new treatment?”  I scrolled down.  Yikes.  Shit about plastic surgery to mindfuck the Little into thinking they were really an Amazon child.  

Not typical.

“Not that,” Cassie said. “Violence against an Amazon.  Could be a real thing.” 

I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t had certain power fantasies involving at least giving a throat punch to Mrs. Brollish or biting Miss Forrest’s finger.  Part of me wishes I could have slammed Bankhead’s hands inside her laptop after her quip about “childish mindsets”.  “Probably an exaggeration or an accident,” I said.

“Or a cover up made to look like an accident.”

“Amazons wouldn’t ever admit to us being able to hurt them,” I said.  “That’d mess with their worldview too much.  To try someone for murder would make them think that we’re adults.”

Cassie gave me a side eye. “They already think that.”  One of the few fundamental disagreements my wife and I had was at the nature of Amazonian culture.  I subscribed to the idea that they were crazy.  She subscribed to the idea that they were purposeful, if gentle, tyrants.

“But why broadcast that with a trial?” I asked.  “Even if they’re not baby bonkers-”

“They’re bonkers,” Cassie interrupted, “just not as bonkers as you think and not in the same way.”

I sighed in irritation.  “Not my point.  If they do the baby thing to stay in control-”

“Which they do-”

“-why would they broadcast that someone rebelled so openly?  You don’t prevent rebellion by showing how harshly you punish it.  That just makes for smarter or nastier rebels in the future.  You prevent it by not admitting to rebellion.  Rebellion isn’t an option if people don’t know it exists.”

Cassie pouted out her lip.  These conspiracy rabbit holes were typically the closest we got to having an actual argument.   “Fair point,” she finally said.

We kept scrolling.

“Hypnotizing DVD’s?” Cassie asked.

“Yup.”

“Illegal as fuck.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Like that stops them.”

“Good point.  Does Beouf use them?”

I hemmed and hawed for a second.  “I don’t think so.  Those are almost always cartoons, aren’t they?”

“As far as I know.”

I shook my head, feeling a little more than just relief at the thought that Beouf wasn’t a complete monster.  “Then no.  I’ve never heard her talk about cartoons.  At least not the same exact ones that I have in my own class.”

Her hand reached up to my chin and maneuvered me so that I was staring into her eyes.  Dark eyes.  Sad eyes.  Scared eyes.  “If you ever hear them talk about cartoons, I want you to quit.”

This wasn’t a question.  “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Promise me you’ll quit.”

I paused, wrestling with my own cognitive dissonance.  “I promise, hon.”  She gave me a peck on the lips. 

 “Good.”

We sat there again, in relative silence, arms draped over each other and laptop on our laps, scrolling through the rumors, the rants and the pleas for help. 

Help! My plane did an unexpected layover, and Customs wants me to go to the airport nursery. Damn. Brace yourself, I guess.  No replies.  If you can’t say anything helpful...

Alone in Big city and seeking companionship. Looking to meet other Littles in public.  Also no reply.  Everybody smelled a trap there.

Do NOT go to the Cherub Arms Hotel!  Wife and daughter missing for weeks!  Noted.  Thanks.  Sorry for your loss.

Stole A’s phone!  No longer continent!  Safe place to hide? No clue.  Not in the area.

I’m being naughty and took Mommy’s phone and ran away. Where can we play?  Really?  Screw you, Amazon.  The screen name was even “Ima Widdle”.  Ugh.

Product Warning:  King Fisher Rattle generates pleasure stimulating frequency that only Littles can hear.  Used for conditioning and mind fucking.  A bit far fetched, but not completely out of the realm of possibility, knowing Amazons.

We kept scrolling and other than the occasional “ugh” or “oh boy” or “oh no”  it was quiet.  We checked and sent out a few PM’s to far away friends to make sure they were still safe and not “adopted”.  So far everyone was safe.  Good.

It was about fifteen minutes till I’d need to go to sleep and the energy drink was fading fast when conversation catastrophe struck.  “Littles from other dimensions,” Cassie read. “We are not alone.”

We read the entire rambling vine of links, messages, and conspiracy theories.  There was some particularly twisted stuff.   “As if.” I yawned.

“Makes sense, though.”  Cassie stretched and set the laptop aside. “If you think about it.”

“You think that Amazons have interdimensional portal technology and are using it to abduct Littles from other dimensions?”

“Not literally,” Cassie said.  “Just metaphorically,  y’know?”

I climbed under the covers.  “What metaphor?”

She joined me.  “Amazons are invaders.  It’s in their nature.”

“I thought I was the one that argued about Amazon nature,” I said, glibly.

Cassie gave me a light punch on the shoulder. “You know what I mean.”

“Ow!”  It didn’t really hurt.  The sense of being admonished had shocked me more than the physical contact, and even then not so much. “No I don’t.”  In the darkness I sensed Cassie tense up.  “I’m not trying to be obtuse,” I said.  “Explain what you mean.”

She breathed in.  “You know how there’s Littles and Tweeners and Amazons?”

“Yeah?”

“Why aren’t Amazons called ‘Bigs’, instead?”

I opened my mouth and shut it almost immediately.  Shit.  I hadn’t thought of that.    “I...don’t know.” I finally answered. 

“Because the Amazons are invaders.  They’re not from here.”

I propped myself up on an elbow.  Now I wasn’t going to sleep.  “Maybe not here-here, but archeological evidence suggests that Littles and Amazons lived in different parts of the world, and now we’ve just mixed to the point where every place has Littles and Amazons.  Hell, that’s where we get Tweeners from.”

My wife was still staring up at the ceiling far above us. Amazonian scaling.  Some days our bedroom felt like part of a mansion. Other times, it was a deep dark cave.  “There are still a few countries where Amazons aren’t allowed.  Places they haven’t gotten to yet.”

“Yeah,” I said.  “But there are Amazon only countries, t-”

“No there aren’t.”  Cassie cut me off before I could finish the thought.  “There’s just places where Littles have no rights at all and they don’t need an excuse to snatch us up and mindfuck us.  We can exist without them,” she said.  “Not the other way around.”

I had nothing in reply, but Cassie wasn’t done..   “Why are we measured in pounds?”

“As opposed to kilograms?”

Cassie was sitting upright again.  “No I mean, why is our weight measured in pounds instead of glorbitz?”

“Glorbitz?”

“Made up word,” she clarified.  “Why am I a hundred and twenty pounds instead of...I dunno...twenty-something glorbitz?  Why are most Amazons damn near ten feet instead of...I dunno...five to six remulons or whatever?”

I sat up, too.  So much for sleep.  “You’re losing me, hon.”

“It makes sense for us to measure things in inches and feet.  The scale is relevant to us. Made for us.”  There was a weird, almost manic excitement in her tone.  She was having a brainstorm and wouldn’t be able to sleep until it had run its course.  I’d seen it before, usually when she had an idea for drawing or painting something. “Not counting really small or super gigantic quantities, our everyday units of measurement tend to be sized for us; for Littles.  Right?”

I had no idea where she was going.  “Sure...I think.”

“Like would roaches have the same scaling units of measurements for their furniture?”

“Did you just just compare us to roaches?”

“Stick with me, Clark.”

My head was beginning to hurt.  “Okay okay.  I get it.  But there ARE other units of measurement that people use.” I said.  “Metric doesn’t exactly scale with us, either.  I sound much taller and much heavier in metric.”

“Exactly! Metric!”

“Why do I feel like you just agreed and disagreed with me at the same time?”  

“Why isn’t there an Amazonian unit of measurement?” 

The wheels were finally starting to turn.  “Because then they wouldn’t seem as...big?”

“Exactly!”  Cassie sounded like she’d just solved a murder.  I was half expecting her to magically break out a pin board and bits of yarn.

“But if Bigness or whatever is so important to Amazons,” I countered, “why don’t they call themselves ‘Bigs’?”  

“Because then we wouldn’t seem as little to them.  We’d all be on more equal footing.”

“Losing me again.”

 “They call themselves Amazons.  What are we?”

“Littles…”

“Little what?” She paused for me to answer.  I couldn’t.  I didn’t know.  “Little Amazons.  They’re the default, everyone else is just the spin-offs.”  The edge in her voice was getting more pronounced by the syllable. She was getting angry and telling her to calm down would have had the opposite effect.   It didn’t help that I agreed with her on that one.  Amazons thought of Littles as babies that wouldn’t grow up.  Baby what?  Baby Amazons of course.  

My eyes were adjusting to the dark.  I could see every little jerk, every agitated movement, every little flick of her wrist while she talked with her hands, working herself into a frenzy. “They came here,” she said as much to herself as to me.  “They invaded.  And they labeled us Littles, and when they...they...when we had kids with them, they got called In-Betweeners, but it was always about them.”

“So you think Amazons came from Grease? You think they opened a portal and invaded us?”  I was playing dumb.  Dick move, I know, but I’d gotten used to playing dumb as a diffusing mechanism.  Force of habit.  “You do realize that Grease is a mythical land; like Narnyah, or Auz, or Ohiyo, right?”

I couldn’t see Cassie’s eyes, but I could feel her glaring at me.  “I don’t literally think Amazons came from some fairy tale land.”  She slugged my shoulder again.  “Jackass.”  At least the “jackass” sounded a little less angry.

“We probably named them Amazons,” I thought aloud.  The story of Heracleese and the Amazons was one of the few stories I could think of where the Little was the hero instead of the victim needing to be saved.  There was a painting of Heracleese tying up the Amazonian Wunder Woman just above our bed.  Cassie had painted it back in college and brought it with us when we’d moved into our house together.

I miss that painting.

“We named them Amazons, and they named us Littles,” Cassie said.  Her temper was boiling over and she was starting to sulk.  “How is that fair?”  

I leaned over and gave her a hug.  “It’s not.  Not at all.”

She was still holding onto me.  “You know, in Leutekan,” she said, “they’ve got an entirely different set of fairy tales.”

I knew this.  We’d had this conversation before. I had some distant relatives in the Little countries, myself. But like a dance, the steps still had to be played out for the song to end.  “Yeah?  Like what?”

“Like Little Red Riding Hood isn’t rescued and adopted by the Amazon Woodsman.” she whispered.  Then added, “I think I just threw up in my mouth a little saying ‘adopted’.”

“Yeah,” I said, rubbing her back.  “My mother used to tell me a story where it was Three Little Pigs, instead of Two Little Pigs and their Mommy.  Story was supposed to be about not taking shortcuts and being prepared.  Not that Littles don’t know how to build stuff.”

Cassie squeezed me.  “I’d never heard that one before you told me about it.  Nobody in my high school knew that one either.  Not even the other Littles.”  We sat there.  The pause growing pregnant; the fight draining out of both of us.  “I heard that in the original Little Mermaid, she dies and becomes a wind spirit instead of going back to the ocean and wrapped up in seaweed diapers by King Daddy.” 

“That one’s kind of depressing.  She died.”

“Yeah,” Cassie agreed.  “But at least she got to go out on her own terms.”

The dance was almost over.  We’d both be drifting off soon before the alarm clock woke us up and I got ready to go back to work.  Then, my brain betrayed me and I went off script. “Hey,” I asked, “what do they call the people of Leutekan?  Since there’s no Amazons or Tweeners and everybody is the same size?”

Cassie got quiet. Finally, she said, “Littles, I think.”

“Not Leuts?  Or Kans?  Just Littles?  Just like everywhere else?”

Cassie sighed.  I felt all the fight go out of her.  “Damn.  They got us there, too.”

“Or maybe we just don’t know everything…” I said. The competitive part of me wanted to feel like I won our debate...but I didn’t want to hurt her.

“Maybe.”

We laid there, waiting for each other to start snoring so that the other one could drift off.

It wasn’t happening.

Finally, she rolled back over to me.

“Hey.”

I smiled. It was the way she’d said it. “Hey.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Worked yourself up too much?”

“Kinda…” she said.  “But I’m not angry.  Just...worked up.  Heart racing.  Feel hot.”

I reached out and caressed her cheek.  We could see each other perfectly in the darkness, now.  “Want me to hold you a little longer?”

My wife shook her head and peeled back our bedsheets.  She kissed me, slowly, deeply on the lips. “No.”  

I shuddered in anticipation as her mouth worked it’s way down my neck, pecking at my chest and continuing it’s journey past my belly button.  I let out a low moan while I reached up and grabbed at her hair, twisting the strands of it around in my fingers.  She loved it when I yanked hard enough to hurt her scalp.  

No more talking.

We wouldn’t be snoring right away, either.   

Tomorrow was gonna be a rough morning.  We’d both be up late.  

Worth it.  

Completely fair.

[YourFNF]

Fascinating discussion

[kirababy]

definitely fascinating, and one I'll have to read several times, as I know there is stuff I missed this time

[Personalias]

1 hour ago, YourFNF said:

Fascinating discussion

 

1 hour ago, kirababy said:

definitely fascinating, and one I'll have to read several times, as I know there is stuff I missed this time

Thanks to both of you.  I drew parts of this vibe from my real life.  This was definitely a blueprint based on real life interactions.  (Not the DD stuff.  Just two folks sharing random online stuff.)  Besides getting to show more of Cassie and showing Clark NOT in social danger, this scene gave me the opportunity to do nods and winks to other DD stories that I've loved over the years, as well as organically set the stage for what was "normal" in this iteration of the Diaper Dimension.

Littles going to other countries and getting "adopted".  Yuuuup.  Portals to other dimensions?  Not so much as far as the general populace knows.  Hypnosis?  It happens but it's totally illegal.

What did y'all like about it?

[Guilend]

I love it

[Panther Cub]

I enjoyed all the references to other DD stories! Also, I have to wonder what would happen if they found out that the portal littles were indeed real?

[Samriis]

I love hearing about the "why" of things, especially in this world.  It always leads to a "why not" or to a "because"... but it also leads the mind to how to change.  I LOVE IT when the paradigm shifts and it is well thought out

[Moon3ye]

I'm sorry but did you write that the metric system is hard?

Please this is the easiest thing in the world.

The American system with feet and inches is the absolute mindfuck.

I have to sit here with an app to figure out your 14 feet or 36 inches.

[Samriis]

Heh, wait till you try and figure out fathoms... 

[Personalias]

7 hours ago, Moon3ye said:

I'm sorry but did you write that the metric system is hard?

Please this is the easiest thing in the world.

The American system with feet and inches is the absolute mindfuck.

I have to sit here with an app to figure out your 14 feet or 36 inches.

I did not write that the metric system is hard.  I wrote that if you use different units of measurement, you can "seem" bigger or smaller because the numbers are bigger and smaller.  I am so much lighter in kilograms than I am in pounds.

It's both a joke and a question posed by the Littles of why do Amazons not favor a unit of measurement that makes them seem LESS huge.  The answer?  Perhaps (and this is conspiracy talk is all) they're not FROM "here", as much as they conquered and integrated themselves into the world long ago.  At least thats' what Cassie thinks.

 

[YourFNF]

I suspect that hypnosis videos are actually a red herring or a secondary component. Either that or they area mimetic hazards and could be classified as an SCP..... Ketter obviously XD

[Moon3ye]

3 hours ago, Personalias said:

I did not write that the metric system is hard.  I wrote that if you use different units of measurement, you can "seem" bigger or smaller because the numbers are bigger and smaller.  I am so much lighter in kilograms than I am in pounds.

It's both a joke and a question posed by the Littles of why do Amazons not favor a unit of measurement that makes them seem LESS huge.  The answer?  Perhaps (and this is conspiracy talk is all) they're not FROM "here", as much as they conquered and integrated themselves into the world long ago.  At least thats' what Cassie thinks.

 

Oh, okay. Then I misunderstood something. This happens here and there because English is not my mother tongue.

Sorry if I offended you.

[Personalias]

2 hours ago, Moon3ye said:

Oh, okay. Then I misunderstood something. This happens here and there because English is not my mother tongue.

Sorry if I offended you.

Not offended.

[Personalias]

Chapter 7: “Typical”
“This fucking sucks!”
I got up from my kidney table and walked over to Chazz.  “Will you please be quiet?” I hissed.  “I have children.  Actual children, and I don’t want them hearing that kind of language.” 
The diapered Little stared at me from his spot in my time out corner.  “THIS! FUCKING! SUUUUUUCKS!”

I looked back over my shoulder at my students.  “You guys have some leisure time,” I called back.  “Go play”.  The kids didn’t need to be told a second time. 
 
“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!”  I ignored Chazz’s swearing as I went over to Mickey’s cubbie and took out his naptime blanket.  Mickey was absent today.  He wouldn’t miss it.  
I walked back over to the time out corner and tossed it to the diapered Little; still not allowed to wear anything but a T-shirt and his crinkling shame.  “Here.”
The blanket was back in my face in less than a second.  “Fuck you!  I’m not taking a fucking nap!”
I caught the blanket and bit my tongue.  Dude was going through a lot right now.  Breaking his nose wouldn’t help either of us.  I sat down cross legged on the floor across from him.  “It’s so you can cover yourself if you want.” I told him.  I was tempted, really tempted to add in “unless you want me to see your diaper…”, but that would have been an Amazon move.  I held the blanket back out and he snatched it from me, spreading it out over his lap so that his diaper was concealed.
Now we were something close to equals, superficially, if not societally.  I thumbed back at my class.  “Those kids, they’re three and four.  I’m thirty-one.  How about you?” 

“Old enough…”  Chazz crossed his arms and pouted his lip out.  
I shook my head.  “I’m not doing what you think I’m doing, dude,” I said.  “I literally want to know how old you are.”   I rubbed my chin and my forearms for emphasis.  “When they catch us and zap our hair off, it gets kind of hard to tell.”
 
“Us?”  Chazz returned his his and glared at me.  Were he a gun there’d have been a little red dot pointed right between my eyes.  “There is no ‘us’, Helper!”  I didn’t even blink.  I’d been expecting that little slur to come whizzing out of the guy’s mouth the second that Beouf brought him into my room.
 
“Do you know why you’re here?” I asked.  “Do you know why you’re in my room right now?”  I interrupted him before he could sass me some more.  “Because it hasn’t even been a week and you’re starting to get on Beouf’s nerves.  That’s why you’re here.”

Chazz crossed his arms.  “Like I care.”
 
“You should,” I said.  “Beouf is an Amazon.  She’s a monster.  But she’s the nicest monster you’re likely to meet here.  You’re in Hell, but she’s the demon that runs the first circle.  Do you want to go deeper?”    
 
The dude’s chest puffed out, like he had something to prove; like he wasn’t wearing his toilet around his waist.  “They’re not gonna break me!”
 
I paused. I had to phrase this right and get through all that anger.  “Yes,” I told him.  “Yes they will.  They’ll break you.  They always do. Unless you smarten up.”
 
A flicker of hope.  I had his attention.  He was hoping that I’d give him tips.  Maybe smuggle him out.   He really was new. “Yeah?”
 
“Beouf thinks that you’re in here with me reading you the riot act,” I told him.  “She thinks that I’m dressing you down and making you feel super childish or whatever.  That maybe someone your own height talking to you like you’re a two year old is going to make you accept their worldview.”
“It’s not…”
I could practically feel my own nostrils flaring.  Dumbfuck.  “I know it’s not and you know it’s not.  Beouf?  I’ve known her for a decade and I promise you she thinks you’re a child, so she’s punishing you like one.  Banishment and time-out in another teacher’s room.  And that’s the worst that will happen.  She doesn’t spank.  I don’t think she does enemas or suppositories.  She doesn’t purposefully leave you stewing in your own mess.This-!” I pointed to the floor for emphasis.  “This is the worst thing that’s going to happen to you here, but only if you stay at this school!”
 
I could see Chazz get red all over.  Not from embarrassment but pure adolescent rage.  How old was this kid?  Did he really not know how bad it could get?  Beyond diapers?  Beyond cribs?  “It’s bad enough.”  From under the blanket I saw him stomp his bare food a little bit.
 
Deep breath.  “You’re not from around here, are you, Chazz?”  That didn’t get a response, so I took it as a “no”. Figures.  A Little sets out in the world and comes to the podunk piece of suburbia that is Oakshire; and they get sloppy.  Littles can’t get sloppy.  If we get sloppy, we tend to stay that way. Even white-bread podunk is risky when you’re knee high to an Amazon.  “Anybody ever tell you about New Beginnings?” I asked.
 
Chazz shook his head.  He was quiet.  He was listening.  Good.
 
“This isn’t exactly a big town” I said.  “Not everybody knows everybody, but the locals know the lay of the land.  There are a couple of private daycares for Littles, but those can get expensive.”  I waited for Chazz to interrupt or say something.  “There are two state funded programs in town, too.  Beouf’s is one of them.  Your…” I had to choose my words carefully just in case someone walked in at the wrong moment.  “Amazons...Your Amazons, I’m guessing are more the thrifty sort.”

“I’m not getting the premium diapers if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I wasn’t.  You done?”
He stared at me.  Then finally let out a “Yeah…”
“The two units are here and New Beginnings.  Here, with Beouf, you stand a chance.”
“A chance of what?”
“A chance of still being Chazz.” I said.  “New Beginnings is where they send the so-called Bad Littles.”
 
“Yeah?  What happens?”
 
I chose not to directly answer the question right away.  New Beginnings had a bad reputation among local Littles, but if he was going to survive it had to be on more than fear.  “Melony Beouf cares about you.  It might be you as if you were a baby, but she genuinely cares.  I’ve seen her cry when her students couldn’t get with the program and ended up getting expelled.  Those Littles end up in New Beginnings.”
 
The color was draining out of Chazz’s face.  It took a lot to imagine an Amazon crying.  “Why?  What happens to them?”
 
“Beouf’s toured the place years ago.  Turned a job down there on principle.”
 
“What happens?”
 
“Littles like us go into New Beginnings.  But we don’t come out the same.”  Silence.  “Stay here and Beouf will do everything she can to get you to act how they think you’re supposed to act.  If you do it right, that’s all it’ll be. An act.  You’ll still have your marbles.  You’ll have a better chance…”
 
“You’ll help me escape?”  The look of hope and fear welled up in his eyes, spilling out into a hopeful trickle down his cheeks.
 
No making promises I can’t keep.  I kept going.  “If you get expelled and sent to New Beginnings.  They’ll scramble your brains so hard that you’ll stop being a person.  You’ll just be a system of hypnotic and conditioned triggers that reacts to specific stimulus wrapped up in a Little shell.”
 
“Like a doll…” he said.  

“Like a doll.”
Chazz looked over my shoulder, past the kidney table and to the door leading out of my classroom.  “Has anybody ever escaped here?
 
I chewed on my lip.  “Here, here?  Naw.” I closed my eyes and shook my head.  “But go along with the program. Make them think you’re happy here, and they’ll let their guard down at home most likely.”
 
“How often does that happen?”
 
“Not sure,” I told him. Only once had I seriously been asked or accused of helping one of Beouf’s students “run away”.  Brollish was interrogating and Beouf, as my Union Rep, had spoken in my defense.  In ten years it was the only time I was certain that a captured Little had gotten away.  “A couple times…?” I lied. 
 
 In truth, Beouf was frighteningly good at her job.  Most Littles either learned to accept their fate or they went full native like Ivy.   “The point is you’re in prison right now,” I told Chazz.  “Life sentence.  No parole.  But do you want to live in a minimum security or a SuperMAX with solitary confinement?  Which gives you the better odds?”
 
I saw Chazz slump down.  Defeated.  I hated giving this speech.  I felt like such a Helper when I did.  There was too much risk in helping other Littles break out directly.  I was first on the list of suspects if anybody got away.  Having this talk gave me a clearer conscience, too.  The lesser of two evils might still be evil, but it was also lesser. 
 
 Chazz’s lip started quivering.  “I made boom-boom,” he said.  He started crying in earnest, losing any semblance.  “Mommy! Daddy!  HELP!”
 
Yikes!  “Tracy?” I called out.  “Do you mind starting Circle Time a bit early?”
 
“You got it, Boss!”   Good ol’ Tracy.  I’d have to update her later, but she knew the urgency in my voice.

Scooting over closer to him, close enough to smell the mess he’d made in his pants, I whispered. “Why are you talking like that?”
 
In muffled sobs and gasps he told me.  “I made...boom-boom…” he said.  “Poopy in my pants...whenever...I need...changies...I start talking...wike...wike a baby…”

DAMN!  I was afraid of that.  “Breathe deep.“  I leveled my own voice.  “Dig your fingernails into your leg or something.  Focus and choose every word you’re going to say...carefully.”  Chazz started hyperventilating.  “No no no! You’re not in trouble, friend.  You’re not in trouble.  Not at all.  Just talk...slowly.”
 
A few more panicked gasps and Chazz was able to talk.  “They’ve...been making me...watch...these...cartoons…”  He almost dropped the r in cartoons but caught himself mid phoneme.
 
The hair on the back of my arms was starting to go straight up.  “Who? ! Beouf?  Zoge?”
 
“No...My...my…”  He stopped himself.  He didn’t want to say ‘Mommy and Daddy’, but it was the only word that his brain might let him get out. 
The programming was too intense for him.  “The Amazons who took you?” I said.  Then I added, “Adopted you?”  A snot bubble inflated under his left nostril and popped.  He nodded his head.  “I’ll tell Mrs. Beouf about that,” I promised.  “Maybe she can get them to stop.”

He moaned a little bit.  I heard a burbling and popping noise.  He was still filling up his diaper. 
 
“What’s wrong with your stomach?”  If he’d only been caught a week he shouldn’t be diaper dependent yet.
  
Still crying he stuttered out the answer as best as he could.  “Ch-ch-ch-choc-”
 
“Training chocolate?”  I had my own mini-flashback of a few days ago.  
 
If Chazz pulled on his scalp any harder, hair would be coming out in clumps.  “Mommy and Daddy keep making me eat it….as a treeeeeat!”  Sometimes there’s nothing you can do except let a person cry it out.  So I did.
  
“I’M EIGHTEEN!“ he screamed.  “I’M JUST EIGHTEEN!” More incoherent bawling.  The next part came out barely above a whisper, though  “i moved out...and i didn’t even make a year…”   I felt nauseous and it had nothing to do with the smell coming out from behind the kid.  Now I wanted to cry.  I gave him a hug.  Not as an adult hugging a child, or a Helper trying to make an Adopted Little feel childish.  There was no calculation, or hidden agenda on my part. No paranoia.  I just wanted to be a decent person to him.
 
He was bawling into my shoulder.  I was close enough that I could hear the hiss as his bladder gave out and released a deluge into the padding between his legs.  “FUCKIN’ AMAZONS!” he screamed.
 
Right then I wanted nothing more than to help him.  I wanted to give him the keys to my scooter, tell Tracy to open the door for him, and give him as much of a head start as I could.  Instead, I leaned in and grabbed the back of his head, pressing our foreheads together in a kind of aggressive nuzzle. I helped the poor kid the only way I knew how, instead.
 
 I whispered to him. “Say ‘typical’.”
 
Chazz stopped bawling long enough to take a breath.  He sniffled. “Huh?” he whispered back.
 
“If you need to say the F-word, say ‘typical’ instead.  You can get your anger out, and they won’t have any reason to know what you’re really thinking. ‘Typical Amazons’.  You’re going to make it through this.”  I was giving empty promises. The same promises I told myself.  “But to do that, you’ve gotta be smart.  Rebel, but do it in small ways.  Subtle ways.  Ways that won’t make them take it out on you.  Ways they won’t think of.  Don’t say the f-word.  Say ‘typical’, instead.”
 
He was quiet.  Good.  Quiet meant thinking.  “Okay…” he finally said.  His breathing was slowing.  Getting it back under his control.  “‘Typical Amazons’.  Yeah...I like it.”
 
We were too close to make proper eye contact, but I’d like to think he felt my smile.  “So do I,” I told him.  “So do I. Use it everyday, myself.”  I stood up and offered him my hand.  He took it and I helped him to his feet.  Hopefully his so-called parents wouldn’t turn him into a crawler.  
 
The blanket fell away, leaving a drooping mass of diaper out in the open.  I heard one of my students let out an “Oooooooooo!”  I whirled around and gave them a glare.  They whithered back and paid attention to Tracy.  A fringe benefit of still having facial hair: I was still scary to toddlers, even the ones that were bigger than me.
 
“Come on,” I said.  “Let’s go talk to Mrs. Beouf.”
Quietly, we walked out of the time out corner, through the back door, and crossed the distance between my classroom and the Maturosis and Developmental Plateau classroom.  Only the very muted crinkling of Chazz’s very full diaper and my the purposefully heavy footsteps of my loafers made any sound.  
 
That, and the heavy thud of the door behind after we entered Beouf’s classroom.  I actually needed Chazz’s help yanking the lever down; an anti-escape measure I supposed...or just a rusty lever.  It’s a weird thing, cognitively speaking, asking a prisoner to help you open up the door to his cell.
 
“Why, hello there!” Mrs. Beouf said once we were all the way inside.  Her voice went up an octave, meaning she was addressing someone much younger than her.  She came up and leaned over and put her hands on her knees.  “Chazz, have you taken time out to think about how you ought to behave?”
 
Chazz looked to me.  I nodded.  Get it over with.  “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Okay!  Mrs. Beouf forgives you,” she said.  “And even when you make her mad, she still loves you!  Now, go play.  We’ll have circle time in just a few minutes.”  
 
“Yes, Ma’am.”
 
Beouf stood up to her full height, and lowered her voice back to it’s normal ‘adult’ tone.  “Thank you, Mr. Gibson.”  She stepped by me and held the door open.  “I appreciate the help.”
 
“No trouble at all, Mrs. Beouf,” I said.  I motioned for her to lean in.  Turned my back on the rest of the room.  “But I think you might want to have a talk with his parents.” I said, making sure to have an air of confidentiality and concern.

Beouf’s expression mirrored my concern.  “Why?  What’s going on?”
 
“I listened to him a little bit,” I chose my next words carefully.  Had to play to her particular brand of crazy.  “I think his parents might be…” I hesitated, what was the term? “...trying to speed up his developmental plateau.   Something about um...special cartoons?”
 
The Amazon frowned.  “Oh crud…” she said.  “That kind of stuff’s dangerous.  Way more harm than good.”

“I know, right?”

“I’ll try to talk to his parents about it,” she promised.  It was a promise I knew she’d keep.  
 
I thought about how all week Chazz had been coming in with just a t-shirt and a diaper on. Having his new status rubbed in his face couldn’t be helping his situation. Most Amazons didn’t let their real children out of the house looking like that, but it was a form of humiliation and control for their “adopted” Littles.  “While you’re at it,” I leaned in, “do you know if his parents have anything else to dress-?”  
 
I stopped mid-sentence as I felt two very large fingers hook themselves into the waistband of my pants.  I had a sudden urge to be very still.  To freeze. To blush and slam my eyes closed in shock.  I ignored that instinct and slapped the hand away as hard as I could, making an audible THWACK!
 
“EXCUSE ME!”  I shouted. I whirled around and stared at Mrs. Zoge  “DO YOU MIND?!” 
 
The Amazon assistant took a step back.  Her eyes wide with shock and yes, embarrassment.  “Mr. Gibson!  I’m so sorry!”  I kept staring at her.  “I didn’t realize it was…”  She stopped.  “I just thought I smelled a…”  She stopped again.  “I was checking di…”  Again.  “I mean...I didn’t know you’d come in and…”  Yet again. “I’m sorry...my mistake.”

I turned away from her.  Not even addressing her.  I looked back up to Mrs. Beouf.  “I’m going to go back to my classroom, now.  My students need me.”  I tried to keep my tone even, but I was so incredibly angry!  I was visibly shaking with rage when I went out of the open door, wanting to scream my lungs out, but not being able to.  Because even though I was outraged there was still that nagging fear in the base of my brain stem that told me not to, lest I be mistaken for “throwing a tantrum.”

TYPICAL AMAZONS!
 

[YourFNF]

28 minutes ago, Personalias said:

paused. I had to phrase this right and get through all that anger.  “Yes,” I told him.  “Yes they will.  They’ll break you.  They always do. Unless you smarten up.”

This is probably the most terrifying part. Everyone breaks eventually if subject to enough and the right kind of stress. I like to think I could hold out but honestly I'd probably be catatonic in a couple months.

This universe would definitely be a mind fuck for me because. I legitimately want help and to be taken care of but I want it on my own terms. I feel like even if I hated myself for it a me from this universe would probably go shopping for an Amazon that would hopefully at least let me finish college or at least take courses and transition before I even finished highschool. ?☠️

[DiaperBoy37]

Another great chapter

[Guilend]

I'm loving it. I wonder if that one Amazon woman got punished by her bodd for her chocolate trick backfiring?