diaper dimension Crib Row (Chapter 7 Updated Nov. 24th)

[Josh23]

Love this story!

[Cya]

An absolute masterpiece. 

[BabySofia]

This is awesome so far! Keep up the good work! 

[Baby Billy]

I have to agree with Baby Sofia this is really good, I wonder how much movement Rini has as a 6 month old, I would think crawling only. But somehow ahe kept her memory of what her life was before. 

[SGTbaby]

Real life happens...no worries. Great chapter. Interesting her new age and how she is an experiment of sorts. Should be fun to watch the development 

[ruby03]

19 hours ago, kirababy said:

nice chapter.   still have questions, but many are answered as this chapter went along

Thank you. If you don't mind my asking, what are your questions? I am curious. You might have thought of something I hadn't  

17 hours ago, herezulo said:

Hopefully that sweetness comes around soon. Poor, poor Seenit needs it.

You don't need to be sorry! Take all the time you need.

Seenit thinks what she needs is a drink. That's not going to happen for her, at least not in the liquid she wants hehe. 

Thank you for your patience 

16 hours ago, Josh23 said:

Love this story!

Thank you very much Josh. ?

12 hours ago, Cya said:

An absolute masterpiece. 

This is incredibly kind and flattering. I must say it made my day. Thank you. 

5 hours ago, BabySofia said:

This is awesome so far! Keep up the good work! 

Thank you very much Sofia, I am still dazzled to know you've read something I've written. 

5 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

I have to agree with Baby Sofia this is really good, I wonder how much movement Rini has as a 6 month old, I would think crawling only. But somehow ahe kept her memory of what her life was before. 

Thank you Billy, that means a lot to me. Rini/Seenit is only six months old to everyone else, but she hasn't been fully regressed. She may be capable of more than we're aware of. 

2 hours ago, SGTbaby said:

Real life happens...no worries. Great chapter. Interesting her new age and how she is an experiment of sorts. Should be fun to watch the development 

Thank you, Sargent. I hope you enjoy the development as it happens. 

[ruby03]

Hello. I must thank everyone again for the kindness you've shown my story. I wasn't expecting to get one comment on it, much less so many wonderfully sweet and complimentary ones. 

Our protagonist will learn today one of the biggest impacts the regressing she's received has had.... 
Chapter Five: Self Fulfilling Prophecy 

I’d been given a few gifts from my main bitch Margaret, most of which manifested during ‘tummy time’, which meant that sometimes I would get to be let out of my box and allowed to lay on a towel on the floor and play with soft blocks, a small set of plastic keys, which was the height of modern entertainment, and a stuffed tiger that sat with a doofy smile in my cot with me. Oh, and she’d put a flowery headband on my head. I didn’t count that among the gifts because it sucked, but I was too polite to ask if she’d kept the receipt. 

The headband and tiger buddy were meant to indicate that I was a special little angel, different from the other pants fillers, and slightly more aware of my environment than the rest of them. The tiger was a mild balm to the overwhelming boredom that eked its way over every pore of my miserable body for the next two days. Sometimes I ‘accidentally’ dropped it off the side of the cot, which meant someone had to pick it up for me, and that was the most I had besides chewing on him (the oral fixation loved that) and pretending he was a cellmate. I couldn’t talk to him aloud, but sometimes when one of the littles started choking on her own mucous and had to have it suctioned out, I would look at him, all, ‘get a load of this character, am I right?’ I hadn’t named him because I felt like naming him was one step too far over the crib railing, if you get my meaning, so he was just ‘the tiger plush.’ 

We hadn’t had many potential adopters in the two days I’d spent here, neither of which seemed too interested in me, and only one actually left with a little. They were an old, bookish looking couple, and were toting along another little who looked like he’d seen the devil with his own two eyes and was definitely not regressed, his comically gargantuan diaper shoved into a pair of blue shortalls and a pacifier strapped to his mouth from behind. Margaret hadn’t liked them, I overheard her saying to another orderly as they cleaned up the newly empty cot, but not enough to refuse the adoption of their newest little princess. 

Escape was seeming to be my best bet, but even at tummy time I was never unsupervised. Someone sat and told me how good I was at pretending to be six months old, only not in those exact words. They’d say ‘ooh, are you having fun with your keys?’ and ‘I bet you’re going to build a big tower!’ Yeah, Shannon, I’ve been speaking to city planning about the erection of a new skyscraper with these three blocks. 

It was like being in prison, the way I was always watched, but somehow worse: there was no one to commiserate with, and the tiger didn’t fucking count. They even had a night staff, who wore darker blue shirts, and fluttered between the cribs to see to whoever was crying and to administer sponge baths to us. At least in the pen we’d had tubs. Nasty tubs you’d likely catch a fungus and get bruised up by a nanny, but at least you could chat and relax a minute. 

Time droned on, and not once had I been able to look at a clock. 

At one point I was waking from a nap, because fuck if sleeping sure did pass the time, thumb in my mouth as always but ready to be popped out, when I heard chatter at the front desk. Typing, the filling out of a form. There was an adoptee here. 

I wasn’t sure how wonderful and nice I wanted to be, because I couldn’t see or hear them well. I heard a woman’s voice, and another one as well, but that could have been from behind the desk. Oh, no, a third, so maybe a couple of two ladies? 

“Oh, oh, this one, it’s this one,” I heard a woman say from the other end of the room. “I am in love at first sight, that means it’s a yes.” 

“Aren’t we here for me, Chrysta?” That was a second voice, deeper and more mature sounding. “If you like this one so much, you adopt her…” 

“What’s wrong with her?” The voice that was Chrysta said, and I heard her set something down on the carpeting and assumed she was lifting whichever little that was out of her cot. “Helloooo,” she cooed, and the little made unintelligible noises back, “I already have two,” she said cheerfully, “my hands are full, and if I adopted another I’d want to post about the decision first. I’d probably get some nasty comments if I impulse bought, and besides you know how much of a handful both Abby and Little Crissy are, in their own unique ways.” 

You deserve them, ma’am, if anything for naming one of your littles Little Crissy. I hoped for her sake she was regressed. 

“I still think this might be a hair impulsive of me,” said the one with the deeper voice, and I agreed silently, hearing them wander like they were shopping for shoes instead of living beings, but still unable to see them. “Don’t you think it’s a bad idea to get a little, just because you project that it’d be good clickbait for the vlog?” 

Yes? The answer should definitely be yes. 

“Noooo, no,” there was more bag shuffling as Chrysta yakked on, “oh my god, Joan, sis, we talked about this: you’re not just doing it for the vlog, you’re doing it for you.”

“I don’t know…” 

“We’re already here! Hang on, I’m gonna film a pano of the room, we can put a voiceover or music or something over this. Oh, crap-ola, can we film in here?” 

One of the teens, who I’d learned was named Lindi, hesitated, before coming up with an answer that I was sure she’d pulled out of her ass. 

Ugh. Nope, this was going to be a soft pass for me; I didn’t want to be the poster baby for someone’s post about the Top Ten Best Playpen Accessories (Number Four Is Borderline Genius), so I figured that being gross and unruly would get me safely out of this situation. These types seem like they want cute, cuddly, happy babies. I squeezed my stomach and felt a soft mess push between my cheeks with a short, muffled fart, and purposely spit a dribbling of drool out of the corner of my mouth for good measure. Tiger buddy was already wet from my chewing, so I decided to offer up a sample to dear Joan and Chrysta what they’d have to deal with if they took me home by chucking him out of the cot, and then screeching about it. That is right: abandon hope, all ye who enter here, for I am Seenit! The world’s worst little! 

I didn’t hear anyone say anything, because I was balling my hands into fists and screaming bloody murder. Somewhere in the dirge of my fake ‘don’t adopt me, I suck’ fit, I felt the soft of the tiger go back into my cot. As a reflex, I opened my eyes, which I should have never, ever done. I would count knocking over that stupid candle as a lesser mistake than opening my stupid, idiot eyes. 

Joan was older, maybe early 40s, but I could only tell as much from the patches of grey hairs among the rest of the deep black that flecked above her ears and led to the high ponytail she wore, and from the general loose aura of having been around the block. She was just this side of heavier set, likely just from life, or from naturally broad shoulders. There was makeup on her pleasant face, but not too much. I was never an excellent judge of such things, but I would venture to say she had nice skin. Maybe it was the dark red tank top she wore, but there was an aura to her of warmth. 

Regression hypnosis was a hell of a drug, one I’d never recommend. As soon as our eyes met in a second of contact, thoughts imploded into my head that I never would have warranted or approved of otherwise: I wanted this Amazon to hold me. All bets were off, the screaming fit had stopped short when I locked in on her dark brown eyes and grappled with the emotional wrecking ball that was my desire to be held by an Amazon. What the hell was my damage? Well, ‘mental’, I guess, that would be the correct word for my damage. 

Never in my life had I looked at an Amazon and thought ‘I want them to embrace me’, so the regression cocktail was to blame here. Yeah, of course, when I was a free cat I’d see other littles my age at underground bars, trying to get a decent conversation in over the dulcet tones of wailing guitars and an anguished artist jamming the fuck out about their rage against The Man, and thought that I’d like them to hold me in the way most Amazons don’t think I’d know how to do. Sometimes they had followed up on the request. Missed those days. 

This wasn’t like that. I didn’t want to be held sexually, it was more like... I just wanted a hug. The soft, tender feeling that this wretched woman who wanted nothing more than to inflate a pacifier in my mouth and put a zap collar on my neck exuded like an over-applied perfume made her seem incredibly satisfying to be held by. It was like seeing an image of a bed online while you’re at work playing the part of the shadowy head boss, but also shopping for duvet covers because you don’t have any more meetings that day, and you think ‘ohh yeah, baby, I wish I was right there on that bed. That bed would treat me real right. Me and this bed would have an agreement.’ 

Joan grinned in a way that was wonderful, her teeth were white and straight and her smile met her eyes. “Hi, pretty mama,” she said, reaching up to fix my headband from where I’d rage-punched it askew, “there we go. You’re just cranky because you just woke up, huh? Huh?” I could smell her hand cream over the low roil of stale piss, baby powder, and my own brand. What was that? Cucumber melon? Excellent choice. 

“I’m so sorry,” I heard Maggie’s smooth voice from above my cot, just out of my line of sight, “Rini isn’t usually this crabby, she might be getting restless. Come here,” she hoisted me out of the cot from behind and cradled me, and I was sort of stupid with concern at my own mental state and thus easily flipped around like a proper baby. My thumb went to my mouth. Hand to god: I was dumbfounded. “Please look around, I am going to change this little one.” 

“Rini?” Joan asked while Chrsyta was still panning her camera over several other littles. “She isn’t a newborn, is she?” 

“No, she’s six months.” 

Joan ooohed over this while Maggie bounced me. 

“Six months,” Maggie added, “and very poopy. Will you please excuse me? I’m going to go clean our little princess up.” 

“I’ll do it,” Joan blurted out, as timidly as one can blurt something. “I think I’d like to try her out.” 

I immediately snapped to my senses and objected to the phrase ‘try her out’, like I was a used automobile she’d get a great price on (with credit approval) but she wanted to see how the steering felt first. Of course, what the solid hell was wrong with me? This was an Amazon, she saw me as an accessory. I felt urine flood my diaper again in a long stream that started at the legs and crawled back to where my mess was smattered across my butt and even groin now, and I welcomed it. Encouraged it. I wish I could have thrown up then, too. 

Was I a bit too vengeful at Amazons as a whole? To that I say: wouldn’t you be? 

“Yes, of course ma’am,” Maggie’s dripping, honeyed voice said. “Once you’re done, let us know so we can take you and Miss Rini to the bonding room.” 

I had heard that last couple go into the bonding room, but I was too far away to see what the deal was in there, but I assumed it worked much like pet adoption, they’d let me out of my kennel, she’d pet my head, and I’d bite her. 

When I was held out to Joan, my arms moved with my heart rather than my head and reached out for her. No, that’s underselling what the regressed part of me -who I’d decided was now my mortal enemy - did at this woman: I made Mother Fucking grabby hands at her. Hello? As soon as I was cradled in her warm, plush, comforting embrace, I stuck one of my hands in my mouth and bit it with extreme prejudice. If you ever made grabby hands at an Amazon as a free little, you were quite literally asking her to stick a big cartoon bonnet on you and bounce you away merrily in a cute stroller to diaperland. The me that went to those bars a thousand years ago would have thought I was crazy. 

Holy shit, I thought as she took my hand from my mouth and said something I didn’t pay attention to on our way to the changing table that laid in a small inlet hallway, right in front of the actual bathroom that we weren’t given the privilege to use, where I felt like I never wanted her to put me down and if she did I might cry (cry! Are you kidding!): I might be actually fucking real life full-tilt-wacko insane. 

I was down on the table as I’d been a trillion times in the past six years, the gnarly feeling of poop squashing into my cheeks and up my back, I felt like I’d been robbed of the most comfort I’d ever felt when I was smacked with the cold absence of Joan holding me. She stood to my side, rather than with my legs pointed at her, to change me, and kissed the top of my head in a way that gave me butterflies. 

“Are you always this friendly,” she asked, unbuttoning the white onesie we all wore here, “or am I special, little mama?” 

I didn’t know what to say. My thumb back in my mouth was a small degree of comfort. I really had been regressed. I am certainly older than a six month old in my head but there was a nagging new Second Part of me that made my chest tremble with the rise of a cry I didn’t fucking order, thanking you very much. Thankfully it didn’t get further than a cherubic hiccup before I stabbed viciously, but I’d known it, she’d known it. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried besides the eye-moisture incident on the diaper conveyor with Green on one side and that other inmate going out of her mind on the other. Now, with Joan’s hands peeling back the tapes of my diaper and me letting her, I was the one going out of my mind. I was a thumbsucker like Betsy, and I was crying during a change like whoever that woman was. They were supposed to be the wackos, not me. 

“Oh, there there lamb cop, it’s okay,” she opened the front and exposed me to the moderately chilly air of the adoption area, and decided to make this an even colder experience by hitting me with critically unwarmed baby wipes to clean up the frontal regions. Her free hand took my legs and rolled them forward and spread the winter of that wipe to my ass. I hadn’t eaten a single solid thing since getting here, so it was mostly liquid at this point with little substance. “I bet Chrysta woke you up, huh?” With that, Joan leaned down near my face in order to drop to a conspiratory whisper, “she’s a bit of a loudmouth, but don’t tell her I said that.” 

Don’t worry, it’s safe with me. Snitches get stitches, lady. I considered winking at her, but I felt like we had a good thing going here that I didn’t want to ruin by blowing my own cover, so I flapped one of my arms lazily and smiled loosely around my thumb. The baby brain wanted so badly for her to pick me up again, so I sucked a little harder. It didn’t help. 

By this time she’d swapped to another wipe and was going between my butt cheeks with it and even at the place where my thighs met my torso. The robots were programmed to clean until things shined, but this was a practiced hand. A warm, soft, cucumber melon scented hand that wiped up to my back and over my belly again too. 

“Do you have any lotion?” Joan tossed the last dirtied wipe as she called out, wiggling my trapped legs playfully. 

“I used the last of it,” you spilled the last of it, that’s what you did, Heather, “so we’ve only got powder right now.”  

“Looks like there’s going to be a blizzard!” Joan found the baby powder and did what I can only describe as her going ‘dingalingalingaling!’ to imitate, I don’t know, snowing? Snow is silent, maybe it was a jingle bell. Good grief. Regardless, she did it while powdering me back and front, and then using the warmth of her hands to rub it gently in. 

My butt was back onto the plush surface of another diaper, and I made sure to wiggle and kick when she momentarily freed my legs to pull the pillowy front up between them. It was held in place as she settled the tapes over the landing strip, and with a quick hand she tugged my onesie back down and snapped it into place. 

“There! There we go!” She rubbed my tummy and I felt my thumb drift out of my mouth, and in fearing that Baby Head was going to make grabby hands again I went into overdrive and grabbed my feet instead. Nice save. “You seem much happier now, bunnybutt. I bet you were just cranky and uncomfy, huh? Yes you were, yes you were!” Ugh, I’d never get used to ‘yes you were yes you were.’ 

Joan lifted me from the table and cradled me, hand supporting my head even though I was able to do it myself, and rocked me on her way back to the front. I couldn’t see where exactly we were going; I was busy staring at her. No one is a supermodel from down here, where you’ve got a premium shot at the inside of their nose, but I was enraptured by every centimeter of her, and nursing my thumb while she held me made my eyes heavy with comfort. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this content and at ease. Her heart was muffled, but I could hear it through her shirt, and even though people were talking around me, Joan’s heart and soft rocking took full control of the world. 

At least until I was handed over to Maggie, at which point I snapped to my fucking senses and vowed to personally smash all of their regression equipment with a stupidly large hammer as soon as I broke out of whatever crib hell Joan planned to put me in. I looked around and saw that Chrysta had been filming at least some of this ordeal, her brown-but-dyed-blonde hair tugged up into a loose bun that shook when she clapped her hand to her cheek and squealed.

“Soooo exciting,” she chirped. I’d pulled my thumb from my mouth and was using it to idly pick at my shirt, but if it wouldn’t have been a giveaway to point at her, look at Maggie, and say ‘is this chick real or did we end up in a teen comedy,’ I would have. 

“We’ll wait until your sister is done washing up,” Maggie said, bouncing me lightly, “and then we can head into the bonding room.” 

“I can’t believe it, I told her she’d fall in love at first sight!” She’d slipped the camera back into her bag and extracted a tablet, the thin transparent piece of holographic garbage that I hadn’t so much as looked up directions on in six years. “I think Gregory’s gonna loooove her too.” 

“Gregory?” Maggie asked. 

“The hubs,” Chrysta said, and it was then that I noticed Chrysta was wearing a necklace with two stick figure girls on it, each with a different triangular crystal for a dress, and I wondered if this represented the two littles she mentioned earlier. Little Crissy. I could have thrown up in my mouth. “Well, not mine, but Joan’s.” 

Maggie was deadly serious about the people she adopted out to, which gave me the idea that this Amazon might actually give half a shit about littles and wasn’t just trying to move us along so cots would clear up. At present, she’d been holding me so that I was almost in a seated pose with my legs half dangling around her, one hand supporting my clean-diapered butt and the other at my back. I’d been busy looking at Chrsyta, so I didn’t see Maggie’s face change, but I could feel the temperature drop around her.

“Why did Gregory not come with?” When she asked, she patted my rear in the way someone would impatiently tap their foot. “Surely daddy would want to meet his new little, unless he is next door picking out a boy?” 

“Oh, no, he had to work!” Chrysta, seemingly distracted by her own sentence, bent over to wave at me. “But,” she said, after I stared at her and did not wave back, “he’s, like, so super totally onboard, they’d been planning this for months he is, just,” her hands went up in a burst shape, like fireworks, “stoked.”

“Mhm,” the voice of a woman unconvinced; Maggie’s distrust of this man may be my ticket to not getting adopted yet. Whatever sorcery that Joan held over me would only hinder my progress of escaping, and I refused to be the property of vloggers, I would not be used for views. That’s right Maggie, I thought, get his ass. Where is daddy, hmm? ‘He had to work’ a likely story! “Where does the Mister work, I wonder? We are open seven days a week, I would have liked to have met him.” 

“He’s a lawyer.” I didn’t have to hear any more, a lawyer got me charged with arson for knocking a candle over. Well, alright, first there was a cop involved, and a judge, but whatever. Being the adoptive fake-baby of a mommy vlogger and a lawyer was the best way to never be able to escape your suburban home again. It would be hard enough if every time Joan picked me up I went into a worshipful haze and felt the earth move or whatever. I had to revisit my ‘worst little on earth’ strategy, so I started picking my nose hoping to strike gold and wipe it on someone (which, for the record, not something I make a habit of, but I was desperate) when Maggie shushed me and pulled my hand away. “But don’t worry, Joan and I pull in our own money with the vlog and blog posts,” Chrysta added as if anyone had asked. “We’ve had a few suuuper nice sponsorships, and I think Joanie bringing home a new little will snatch a million views at the very least.” 

“I see,” Maggie’s voice was careful, “and what sort of things do you vlog and blog about?” 

Just then, Joan came from the back hall where the bathroom was. “Sorry for taking so long,” she announced, shimmying out of the way as a teen plucked a squawking little from her cot, “I think I’m all ready to head out.” 

“Oh?” YES! “Going so soon? You seemed so attached to Miss Rini.” 

Joan reached out to pluck me from Maggie’s slender arms into her soft embrace, where she placed my head on her shoulder and I, limp with the bodily reaction of Rightness that warmed my cheeks and my heart, curled my fingers around the fabric of her shirt again. It was the best hug I’d ever had. I never wanted to be put down again. No, no, the baby brain never wanted to be back again, the baby brain kicked my legs and snuggled into her, smushed my cheek into her shoulder so that a bit of drool leaked between my parted lips and onto the fabric of her tank top. The baby brain sighed and curled my toes when she pet my hair, but it was definitely my brain that bitch-slapped me back to reality when Joan said: “Yes, that’s why I’m ready to go. I don’t think I need the bonding room. I’m adopting this one.” 

Oh no, oh fuck, I tried to squeeze my stomach to make myself poop but nothing came, I hadn’t been fed since this morning so I wasn’t even wetting. My brain froze, lulled into a sleepy, peaceful state by the full body comfort of Joan swaying with me, one so sluggish and morphed by whatever regression I’d soaked in and the vibration of Joan’s voice in her chest that I couldn’t bring myself to scream or spit. I tried to kick, but it did not phase her in the least. 

I was at war with myself. The regressed part of me was in bliss, held by this Amazon with her hand supporting my upper back and the other cupping my butt and making me feel (eugh) small. I felt truly tiny in her hold. Maggie was talking, Chrysta was talking, even dumb fuck Heather was talking and I was kneading my hand into Joan’s shirt, but her words pierced through my babyheaded fog. 

“I don’t know what it is. I was convinced I was going to come in here and leave empty handed. I’d been having second thoughts all day, like that this was impulsive, or rash, or fronted by my emotions rather than my brain. Maybe it is.” She kissed my cheek. My heart pounded. “I saw this little girl and I felt so connected, I felt like if I left her here I’d spend the rest of my life wondering about her.” My chest was tightened with a fear I don’t think I’d ever felt. “I felt the same way about her that I did when they first handed Lyric to me. Like I’d found the most beautiful treasure in the world.” 

Chrysta was tearing up and gripping Maggie’s shoulder, which Maggie seemed only lightly perturbed by, and I was struck through the heart with ten thousand arrows and, at least in my mind, not the type that naked little angels shoot. The Greek chorus of regressed littles sang of my departure as I was taken to the front counter. I remembered how I wish I’d let my final hours in prison go, with my criminal public cheering for me, and I thought that this was somehow an even worse tradeoff than what I’d gone with. Maggie, I thought, Maggie my main bitch, what about the dad thing? What about Gregory, where is that bastard, huh? When I was laid down on the front counter and footprinted, Baby Brain watered my eyes and made me make grabby hands at Joan again because I wanted her, who took my hand and kissed it, and Seenit inside-outside of me looked on in disgust. I couldn’t fight it, I felt like I was watching myself from eight feet away, handcuffed and in my orange prison onesie, watching Joan fill out paperwork while Chrysta filmed. I sucked my thumb and felt a distant calm. This was a fugue state, my body moved almost wholly without my permission, and made me cry. I sobbed deep in my gut and tried to stretch my hands toward Joan again. Hot tears rolled down my face and into my hair as I lay supine on the desk so they could fingerprint me. I hadn't even cried the first time they fingerprinted me six years ago. 

“I think she feels the same about you,” Maggie said. “She just arrived the other day, you know. I think she’s our fastest adoption yet.” 

I was lifted again, sobbing bodily, where Joan shushed and rocked me. 

“Chrysta, do you have a paci in your bag?” 

There was a rubber nipple slipped into my mouth. I sucked it like I’d never nursed anything before, like it was the only thing keeping me connected to this plane of existence. Unfortunately, what the constant satisfaction of the pacifier gave Rini, the baby, almost full override. Being held and giving my oral fixation its fix made my eyes flutter closed as I linked one arm around Joan’s neck, breathing in her scent, her warmth, the feeling of her hands and the smoothness of her skin, and the feeling of that low voice vibrating in her chest. 

 

--- 

I realize it may have been incorrect to say "a Greek chorus" since the diaper dimension has different countries and history. Please do not be too mad. 

What do you think Seenit has in store? 

Edited September 11, 2020 by ruby03
why did i make her name chrysta? there are so many opportunities for typos.

[Moon3ye]

I didn't quite follow (English is not my mother tongue so it can sometimes happen that I get something wrong) Joan is now the blogger/vlogger or was she just a companion and has nothing to do with it. And was she the one who already has 2 littles?

[Baby Billy]

Beautiful chapter, love at first sight is always special and both Joan and Rini felt it.  Don't know about how the daddy is going to feel but I can tell Joan is going to be a moma bear  to anyone that gets in the way.

[ruby03]

3 hours ago, Moon3ye said:

I didn't quite follow (English is not my mother tongue so it can sometimes happen that I get something wrong) Joan is now the blogger/vlogger or was she just a companion and has nothing to do with it. And was she the one who already has 2 littles?

Hello. The details were meant to be a bit vague and explained deeper in chapter six. But I seem to have made them too vague. Not your fault! I am sorry. Chrysta and Joan are sisters who collaborate on their shared vlog/blog. Chrysta has two littles already. Joan mentioned Lyric, but the reader isn't sure who that is yet. 

3 hours ago, Baby Billy said:

Beautiful chapter, love at first sight is always special and both Joan and Rini felt it.  Don't know about how the daddy is going to feel but I can tell Joan is going to be a moma bear  to anyone that gets in the way.

Thank you again Billy. You're right about Joan heehee.... 

[Baby Billy]

13 minutes ago, ruby03 said:

Hello. The details were meant to be a bit vague and explained deeper in chapter six. But I seem to have made them too vague. Not your fault! I am sorry. Chrysta and Joan are sisters who collaborate on their shared vlog/blog. Chrysta has two littles already. Joan mentioned Lyric, but the reader isn't sure who that is yet. 

Thank you again Billy. You're right about Joan heehee.... 

I've always thought that there are far more bigs that truly love the littles they adopt than the monsters that want to hurt them.  And there is one other person to fear than a mommy protecting her baby.  Really do love this story even though I think is wrong that any little sent to jail is given a life sentence.  But in that world all littles know it is only a matter of time before they are caught doing something that the bigs think is a reason to take them.

[Baby Billy]

I have to say that the most surprising person in that chapter was Maggie, I would not have expected the head of the prison adoption center to care who adopted one of the babies. 

[Baby Billy]

This has nothing to do with the story, I know that many authors enjoy getting comments and likes on their work, but it means just as much for us when you comment back, as it shows that you take the time to read them.? 

[BabySofia]

17 hours ago, ruby03 said:

Thank you very much Sofia, I am still dazzled to know you've read something I've written. 

You've said that a couple times, but everyone starts off with a first post. You've started off with one of the best I've seen honestly, and I can't wait to read more! I appreciate there are very few grammar/spelling errors, which would automatically probably have gotten my attention to read this. Being Diaper Dimension means I feel I have to read it to see what new ideas have come out from someone! You've got some great ones here, and I hope to see this be a long running story from everything I've seen here. Personally, I hope that she finds she's a bit less regressed than they wanted her, but has found a mommy that's not a bad one and is okay with that. I too am a bit nervous about the dad thing, but I think it's more likely that she'll create a wedge between the two and possibly he gets out of the picture. At least I would say most of the 'dad's' in the DD tend not to be too much of the problem. (Lyle Redmond in Chasing Emily and a few characters in InkuHime's later follow-ups being the general exceptions) 

Anyway, keep up the good writing, I can't wait to see what's next!

[Baby Billy]

47 minutes ago, BabySofia said:

You've said that a couple times, but everyone starts off with a first post. You've started off with one of the best I've seen honestly, and I can't wait to read more! I appreciate there are very few grammar/spelling errors, which would automatically probably have gotten my attention to read this. Being Diaper Dimension means I feel I have to read it to see what new ideas have come out from someone! You've got some great ones here, and I hope to see this be a long running story from everything I've seen here. Personally, I hope that she finds she's a bit less regressed than they wanted her, but has found a mommy that's not a bad one and is okay with that. I too am a bit nervous about the dad thing, but I think it's more likely that she'll create a wedge between the two and possibly he gets out of the picture. At least I would say most of the 'dad's' in the DD tend not to be too much of the problem. (Lyle Redmond in Chasing Emily and a few characters in InkuHime's later follow-ups being the general exceptions) 

Anyway, keep up the good writing, I can't wait to see what's next!

BabySofia I always felt that you thought that way about the males in the diaper dimension stories you wrote.  In exchanged both the sisters husbands were hands off or trying to help the littles in small ways.  In seems to good Katie's husband told Ivy he only stayed with her to protect them from her becoming worst. I agree this is an excellent story and very easy to read ( sometimes I give up work because of that problem ) 

15 minutes ago, Baby Billy said:

BabySofia I always felt that you thought that way about the males in the diaper dimension stories you wrote.  In exchanged both the sisters husbands were hands off or trying to help the littles in small ways.  In seems to good Katie's husband told Ivy he only stayed with her to protect them from her becoming worst. I agree this is an excellent story and very easy to read ( sometimes I give up work because of that problem )  Plus having the queen of the diaper dimension take an interest would make any writer happy   

 

[SGTbaby]

I love the dimension stories because of the variety and different worlds. So no worries about the Greek Chorus being mentioned. Plus I am Greek...lol. I like how Maggie was possessive almost like she maybe wanted Rini or wanted to play with the experiment with the new type of Little. The battle between Rini and Seenit is going to be fun almost a dual personality type situation or twin personality like Gemini’s. Looking forward to the next part! 

[Cya]

You're doing an amazing job with this story!

[Sarah Penguin]

hmm

[DiaperBoy37]

Please continue

[ruby03]

Hi everyone. I will respond to all of your nice comments in time, but I wanted to do a mini update. 

I had to take a small break from writing due to technical issues. The computer where my files are saved suddenly stopped working. It took several days of saving money from my real job to afford to fix it. It is okay now. It was actually not even as expensive as I thought it would be. 

That did however throw my writing off track, and I will need to recalibrate and get back into the headspace again. I was already feeling like I was not posting my best content here. So maybe that was a break I needed. I played a lot of animal crossing. 

See you soon. ?

[SGTbaby]

Glad everything worked out. Wish real life wouldn’t get in the way but alas that is life..?. Looking forward to your next part!

[ruby03]

Hi. I have been gone for a while, huh. I am sorry. It was a mix of writers block and poor mental health. But I am back. 

This is not the best chapter, but it is a chapter. 

Chapter 6: Homecoming 

I didn’t properly come-to until I was in a rear facing carseat, watching the world rush by me outside. I could tell I was completely together, because my first order of business was to pull the pacifier out of my mouth and work my jaw. This pacifier nipple was huge, and I flipped it over in my hands to look at the shield. It was bedazzled, covered in faux clear gemstones and pearls, along with a tiny pair of angel wings on the center of the button. The handle was bedecked with pastel letters that spelled out ABBY, with wee hearts on either side.

Gross. I’d been sucking someone else’s pacifier. Hoped Chrysta washed this thing. Either Abby had a massive pie-hole, or this was meant to be a mild punishment pacifier, because I didn’t think my mouth was supposed to be sore like this. Experimentally I stuffed it back in and sucked, which caused air to leave the bulb and shrink it, and when I stopped it inflated more. I reconsidered my original analysis ("Gross") as I removed it and chucked the thing toward the foot end of my carseat.

Germ swapping and jaw soreness however was, at present, the least of my worries. 

“I don’t know, I just don’t like the name Rini,” Joan said in the front driver seat over the low din of classic rock, “they said I could change it and register it, but I’d like to do it soon. I’m sure she’s used to her current name.” 

“She’s a baby,” Chrysta said cheerily, and I’d mouthed words in her direction that babies definitely didn’t know just to spite it all, “at worst she’ll be confused for a while.” 

I would not, but if Joan could hook me up with a name better than Rini, I’d give her exactly one point. Just one, no more, especially not the ones my baby brains seemed so intent on awarding her, because Baby Brain Seenit was a big drooling thumbsucking moron. (Sure, I was being a little unjustly mean to my newly developed baby brain, but I was salty, alright?) 

But for the moment, I would toss Joan the ball and give her one last shot to score from the free-throw line. 

“Well…” Joan sucked her teeth and mused, I could hear her nails tapping on the steering wheel, “I like Treasure. That’s what she feels like to me.” 

Ah, no. Never get your hopes up, kids. That ball didn’t just miss, I think it hit someone in the audience. 

“Nooo!” Chrysta with the save! “That sounds like a stripper name.” 

“Chrys!” 

“I’m being honest! I am being 100% open and honest with you, people are gonna think she was the biggest hoe in town.” 

“You’re impossible.” You know how, if you try to keep yourself from laughing, it’ll get 100% harder and the laugh will try with all its might to escape you? I clamped my lips shut. This was that moment. 

“You could name her Sapphire.” 

“Her eyes would have to be blue.” 

“They would not! Diamond?” 

“And you say Treasure was a stripper name…” 

“Can’t be Ruby, she doesn’t have red hair…,” I heard the seat groan with the sound of Chrysta turning around to look at me. “Hmm--Hi!” 

Spotted. Oh well. The giggle had subsided so I played with my hands. Her arm snaked over me to collect the pacifier, and I ‘accidentally’ rammed my bare foot into her wrist. Can’t help it! Baby, remember? 

“Oh she’s feisty, I think someone’s happy to be here! Fiery little girl! Happy baby!” her babytalk tone flipped like a lightswitch when I heard her turn around. “Remind me to sanitize this when we get home.” 

“Which one of your--Chrys!” Give her hell, Joan, make heads roll. “Is that Abby’s big paci?” 

“It was the only one I had on hand! I doubt she stopped sucking it, and we had to get her to stop crying somehow!” The bag rustled again as I heard it re-deposited. “If she were in pain, she’d be crying now.” 

“I don’t want you putting any of those punishment things in my baby’s mouth,” Joan was stern. I’d been yelled at by countless wardens and guards, bullied by a rogues gallery of nasty bitches who wanted to crawl their way up in the prison ranks, and this stern voice was the one that made my stomach turn. “She’s too little to understand what you’d even be punishing her for. And on top of that, she hadn’t even done anything wrong!” 

“Joan, relax, it’s not even an inflating one.” 

The prison had been located in the offskirts of the city, both to keep such an unsightly thing from the public landscape, and to make it so that if a prisoner escaped they’d have a long way to go before they made it to civilization. I watched trees pass through the small scope of my world that existed out of the rear window, and like a ton of bricks it hit me: I was free. 

No, I wasn’t free-free. Sometimes when I was on the inside I’d picture what it was like to come out as an actually free, independent little. I’d get back the blouse and slacks I’d been wearing when I got arrested, but god knows if they’d fit anymore. Food would be priority one, followed by a real bed, maybe sloppy sex, shots. I’d have to re-toilet train myself, but the boredom of prison gives you plenty of time to think about shit and basically my plan would be to schedule bathroom breaks, watch what I drank, try to get my control back, eventually move into pullups. I shifted in my carseat and found myself only slightly damp despite the recent change. There was no chance of that now, unless Joan had big plans. 

I watched the trees rush by. There was a cloud that stayed in my field of view, as if God himself was here to display what he’d made for my eyes to see for the first time in half a decade. They let us outside once in a while, but not terribly often, and there wasn’t much around to see. The car stopped, presumably at a light, and I watched a bird zip by, busy doing bird things, shitting on statues I assumed, and I considered when the last time I’d even seen a real bird was. 

I was tuning Joan and Chrysta out at this point and merely marveling at the wonder that was outside. I was free. I wasn’t in fucking prison anymore. I was still wearing the nursery onesie I’d been wearing when Joan changed me, but holy shit, I might actually get to wear something other than white or orange! I wouldn’t get to pick it, but it wouldn’t be a sign of my federal incarceration. The car seat I was in was padded all around; I was suddenly in a world that cared about my comfort and safety. 

Trees grew fewer as they re-entered the city. I saw the edge of a convenience store, a sight I hadn’t recognized in all these years. I saw light posts, billboards, telephone wires. This was Bridger Street, that’s the commerce building, when did they put that statue up over there? It made me feel almost frightened in a way I didn’t quite wrap my head around to consider that this was only what I could make out from my low vantage point, and that there was even more I wasn’t seeing. I slid my thumb back into my mouth and observed it all, taking in every sight that had once been commonplace but was now wondrous and vivid, alien and yet comfortingly familiar. I was returning to the word as a (supposed) drooling infant, but oh my god: I was returning to the world. 

Seeing it all was like waking up again. I closed my eyes and pulled my thumb away because even though Rini was eager for the serenity of it, Seenit didn’t suck her thumb and I was eager to train myself out of it, because I wasn’t going to stay Rini forever. I was going to escape, I was going to be a part of this big and marvelous world full of things I haven't seen in so long, and I needed to start planning now. 

Whenever I escaped, I’d have to be wearing a diaper, because I couldn’t fool myself into thinking I wouldn’t piss immediately and get snatched right back up, but maybe that might at least mark me as a claimed little. However, no one would buy me as a free adult if I couldn’t stop self soothing, so I tucked my thumb under my chin. 

For all intents and purposes, I seemed to still have control over my legs, but the jury was still out on if I could use them to hold myself up. I assumed I’d have a crib to sleep in, so my plan was to see if I could stand up in it as soon as I wasn’t being watched. I furrowed my brow, considering that Joan might have baby cams. 

The plan would have to be stalled until I could get a lay of the land, see what I was working with as far as Standard Amazon Home Security went, but my mind was busy with ideas and dreams as the city sights rolled on into suburbs. Ritzy ass suburbs, from the looks of it. My gut sank, knowing damn well that the bougie neighborhoods were the ones with the best security, lest any dirty poor folk try to crack into their garages and steal all of the mineral water they kept in a second fridge that lived out there (as opposed to the ostentatious one that was in the kitchen where company could see it.) 

“I really did this,” I’d decided to pay attention to the conversation those chicks were having again. Tuning them out seemed to be the best bet - these birds could really go on. Joan spoke now. “I really just… I just had a baby.” 

“Well, you adopted a baby. A little.” 

“It might as well be the same,” Joan sounded flustered, “I’ve brought a life into my home, I’m going to be responsible for her for the rest of her life. Oh my god. Chrysta, oh my god, this is really happening.” 

“Joanie, oh my god, girl…” Chrysta turned in her seat so she could face Joan, “you said you were ready for this, I think you’re just feeling that rush where you totally did a thing and it’s like, aaahhh!” A big fan of expressing herself through controlled screams, this one. “I felt the same way when I got Abby-Kadabbie, and even again when I got my little-bitty-bitsy-boo Cwissy.” I hoped to whatever deities were out there that Crissy was so regressed that she didn’t have to realize someone was talking about her like this. 

“You kidnapped Abby.” 

“But when I finally got her to sleep that night, it was like, whoosh, you know,” I could hear clinking statement bracelets that indicated she was gesticulating, “like, I’m a mom now. Did you feel like this when you had Lyric?” 

A pause. Contemplation. “Yes,” Joan finally admitted, “but I was pregnant with Lyric, and Greg and I’d planned it. We knew we were going to be parents before we even started trying for her. I’d been planning on getting a little for months too…” she followed that with a laugh, soft and breathy, sweet like iced tea on a warm day, “but I think it’s just now settling in! I see her in the rearview and keep thinking: that’s my baby! That’s my little baby, and I’m her mommy! There’s no goin’ back!” 

Rini felt something at that. I, however, felt something different and much less joyful. 

“You can go back, technically. Put her back up for adoption if you two don’t click--” 

“Chrysta! Don’t even start!” Yeah, Chrysta, what’s your damage. 

“Oh, pull over here real quick,” Chrysta said, backflipping away from that subject with the grace of an Olympian, “I’m gonna get out here and film the car pulling into the garage, and then you getting her carseat out.” 

Joan obliged silently and a pit the size of a grapefruit grew in my belly. We were home. 

A noisy garage door swallowed us whole and took away my view of the sky, leaving us in darkness as the car pulled to an easy stop. A door opened and closed, for a split second I was alone in the car, but my time ended when Joan was in the back seat and I was looking up into her sweet, tender expression. 

“Hi little mama,” she said in a tone that was saccharine with mothering sweetness, “are you ready to come home? Are you ready?” 

I smiled at her and reached toward her in a way that was absolutely me faking affection and babyishness, and not The Baby Brain wanting to hug her again, no siree, bitch. 

“Almost, oh almost, we’ll go inside and get you all set up,” I didn’t want to be ‘set up’, but thanks, ma’am. I saw Chrysta filming us from some distance away, the black eye of the cameral catching me in its digital HD gaze, so I moved in a way that I deeply hoped suggested I wasn’t in control of my movements and completely regressed. Look at me, just a cute baby, oh boy! 

What I could not control was the way I squinted when we entered the stark and near oppressive white of the inside of Joan’s home. We were in a kitchen, I could see, and most everything in it was pristine, polished, rich people white, save for the stove, countertops, and what I could make out of a bowl of fruit. 

“Here we are,” Joan cooed to me, “welcome home, Rini!” 

“Augh-wah” I offered stupidly. 

“Yeah!” Joan set the carseat on a countertop and I squirmed away from the absolute wretched brightness of her overhead lights. “Ohh, it’s so bright, I know, my baby, I know.” 

Back in her arms, I closed my eyes. I was safe. She was talking to me but her voice was a mere parade of vibrations from her chest that soothed me in catastrophic ways. Her hold was strong enough that I knew I’d never be dropped. Now that I was sucking my thumb again, I was back into the bliss place. 

No! Cut it out! I jerked my leg, kicked her ineffectively, and lifted my head up. The living room was decorated well. Suspiciously well. I wondered if they’d had an interior decorator set the place up. I concentrated on my surroundings instead of how I wanted Joan to sit on what was maybe an imported suede sofa and rock me until I slept. There was enough interesting art and decorative thingamajigs strewn about in a very decisive, mise-en-place sort of way, to make it seem like she and her husband had an eclectic sense of style, while not looking like complete nuts. Joan had a blog to run, after all. I saw a lack of baby stuff sitting around, but I wondered if that was to be brought out later. 

“This is the living room,” Joan said, enunciating ‘living room’ as if it was something I’d never even fathomed, like she was explaining the laws of the universe to me. “And look,” she fake gasped as she turned me toward a wall that bore what I decided then would likely be my escape route: a massive set of French doors, leading to a spacious back yard. So spacious it was, that the bitch wasn’t even fenced in. All that lied beyond was a thicket of woods. Jackpot. 

I did my best impression of babbling and made sure to wiggle in a way that indicated that I didn’t know what would happen if I fell. 

“Woahh, careful! You like the outside, Ri-ri?” Joan bounced me against her shoulder. “We’ll play out there a little later. Let’s see more of the house.” 

Oh, we’ll play out there alright. 

I pretended to be a brainless infant through the rest of the tour. There was a guest room, a dining room off the kitchen, two bathrooms, yadda yadda boring shit, all with that ‘we’re quirky and stylish but not in a way that would make us complete freaks’ rich people impression of being eccentric. They had tons of books, tons of art, they seemed like the sorts of people to do a charcuterie board in complete earnest. Upstairs held a master bedroom that I wasn’t shown, as well as a loft. Here I did see a playpen behind a desk, and a large cabinet that seemed like it might be containing baby things. I pretended to be more interested in Joan’s dark hair. 

Finally, last stop on the tour, was my prison-away-from-prison: the nursery. It’d been decorated in mostly offwhite, with accents of muted orange, pink, and yellow, with emphasis on yellow. One wall had gold stars painted on it in a way that seemed to have been done by hand, but a hand that knew what it was doing. An abstract wooden mobile hung above a crib that had an inner bumper of striped offwhite, yellow, and pink that matched the shapes on the mobile, and that also matched the fabric on the changing table mat above a well prepared stock of diapers, and all of that matched the soft fuzzy rug. There was a cloth bucket stuffed with plushies, several wooden toys neatly set up on a shelf, and several baby books displayed in an a-framed shelf. A closet took up more of the far wall. 

The place, for all it stood for, was a palace. 

For the last six years I’d slept in a dimly lit room with concrete walls, on a rubber mat crib with metal bars, surrounded by dozens of other women, lifted lovingly into that crib by mechanical hands. Was there anything to celebrate in being moved from a shitty prison to a nicer prison? I wasn’t sure. Joan was talking and I decided to play the part and not listen, stuffing my thumb in my mouth. 

Baby brain forced a whine and protest from me when Joan took my hand away, but I was immediately rewarded with a pacifier. What, was she worried about my teeth getting fucked up? I had five left, for fuck’s sake. Still, I flapped my free hands around and suckled it gratefully as Joan lowered us both to the floor. 

“There we go, here we are little one.” 

Chrysta’d left us at some point, and now I was out of Joan’s arms and on my stomach on the floor, and she was settling in next to me to sit cross legged. I pretended to stim my hands against the shag rug. I rolled myself over clumsily onto my back and grabbed my feet so I could roll back and forth while easily looking at the roof. 

No cameras. 

It was like they wanted me to break out of here. I smiled around my pacifier. 

“Do you like your room?” Joan asked, and tickled my belly before I could give her an answer. I giggled and thrashed. Christ, it was getting very tiring to be constantly acting. Even method actors get to clock out at the end of the day. I hadn’t been able to stop pretending to be a wiggly, giggly baby for days, and I was getting creatively burned out. Joan made it a lot easier, to my dismay. 

Wait, hold on. 

Maybe we’re onto something here: Joan makes it easier. 

Testing my theory , I rolled over again and started to squirm-half-crawl toward Joan, slapping my hands on the floor gracelessly and intentionally shoving saliva out of my mouth with my tongue to increase drool output, definitely laying the baby thing on thick.

Okay, Baby Brain, you want your Joan? Have her. 

Up and up, I tried to climb onto Joan’s lap, grasping at her and wanting to be held. Like a shark from the briny deep, I could feel Rini emerging, and, fuck it: I let her take over. Joan said something but I nursed my pacifier and played with the fabric of her shirt as she lifted me into her arms and I further dissolved. 

It was the safety that Baby Brain loved, I think. Prison makes you run at a constant low burn of awareness, constantly on your toes with the knowledge that shit could go down. Not in her arms, not here where I was surrounded on all sides by softness. Joan cradled me, just north of her breasts, and watched me with a look I can only describe as one of pure adoration. I didn’t pay attention to where she reached as her hand left me, only knowing that when I wasn’t in both of her hands for a moment it was very scary and Bad, but it was soon Okay again because she’d just wrapped me in a chunky knit yellow blanket and resumed our seated cuddle session. 

“Do you think we’re gonna have a good time together?” She rocked me again and I settled down from BB’s panic. “You’re my second girl, you know, you’re actually a baby sister!” I was loosely swaddled, there wasn’t much I could do with my hands, but letting the regression take over made it easier to study her face and move impulsively. My diaper flooded, warm pee easily overtaking my groin and rushing to the back. At least I was aware of my pissing. It made me feel even smaller, despite it having been my norm for the last six years. Baby Brain reminded me that Joan would change me, not a robot, and I babbled uselessly around my pacifier. 

“Yeah!” Joan went on. “Your big sister Lyric is living with her boyfriend now, but you’ll meet sissy soon. And your cousins, Abby and Crissy. And daddy, ooh you’ll get to meet daddy!” She adjusted our snuggle so that she could press my cheek against her collarbone again. “But right now, you’re all mine. You’re mommy’s little gumdrop right now, my pretty treasure.” 

Her treasure. I curled my toes and sighed again. This might be where I was meant to be, right here.

We sat there for I don’t know how long. I listened to her heart, and she pet my back, and I think I’d started to fall asleep when I heard Joan quietly give someone permission to come in. 

“Hiiii,” Chrysta said, and I heard a camera click. Nope, nope, we’re letting Baby Brain drive, no need to get annoyed, just the happy place. “How’s it going in here.” 

“Oh, this is so much, Chrys,” Joan said, patting my butt. “I might be overwhelmed.” 

“That’s how it is!” Shuffling indicated that Chrysta was sitting too. “Ohh, I’m getting jealous! I want a cuddly little, can auntie hold her?” 

“Let me have this,” I could hear the smile in Joan’s voice. “Besides, you have Crissy! I’ve seen her throw a tantrum because you couldn’t snuggle her at the exact moment she wanted!” 

“She’s cuddly, but you know how she is! There’s a set of lungs on that little and they LOVE to scream. I do need to get home soon, bee-tee-dubs,” I think I might hate Chrysta, “I told the babysitter I’d be home at four, and besides both of the girls will be needing to nurse. Is Greg home?” 

“He’s on his way. He’s picking up Thai for us.” 

“Awww!” Chrysta chirped. “Your thing! Look at him, celebrating with you!” 

“Well, he’s got a new daughter too, not just me. It’s a celebration for both of us.” 

“You gonna be okay here with the new one by yourself?” 

“Mmhmm,” her hum felt so nice, and she made the butterflies breakdance when she kissed my head. “Oh, Chrysta, it’s really hitting…” 

“Real quick, before we go,” Chrysta said, ignoring the tenderness, “so I think I’ve got what we need for today, I’ll send you the files once I’m done editing them and then, do you think you can have the post up by, uhhh, Thursday? Thursday’s usually your cocktail recipe day but I think we’re gonna have to make it baby-post day at least until you can drink again.” 

“Drink again?” 

“Aren’t you gonna breastfeed? It’s like, the best way for you guys to bond.” 

My eyes widened. I’d heard some truly fucked up stuff about what happens to bitches once they started drinking breastmilk on the reg, and I was in no hurry to be Bitches. Apparently it hit all littles differently and came out of all Amazon breasts differently, but turning into a boob-milk zombie would certainly not do my escape plan any favors, and neither would getting addicted to it. My shits were already messed up, so I hoped bowel disturbance would be my only concern, and not further regression. With the way I thought Baby Brain might cry if I was put down now, falling deeper into regression would be the best way for me to stop acting and start actually turning into a fucking baby. 

Joan, eternally saving my ass, had different plans: 

“Not right away, no. For starters, I’m not lactating yet, and besides that she has been having prison formula for the last couple of years, and I read that such a sudden switch could make her sick.” 

“Ohh, okay,” tap tap tap the sound of nails on a phone screen, “make sure you write about that, we could even make a whole post about it-- whatever, you think about it. I’m gonna post the video probably the same day you post the article, but can you send me some voiceover stuff too, and maybe like, see if you can sit and do like a one on one talking head about it?” 

“Damn, girl! I’m new to having a little,” Joan replied, “but not to my own job, Jesus!” It was sisterly teasing. “I know how to put our content together!” 

“Woooow, swearing in front of the baby,” Chrysta replied with heavy sarcasm, “I can’t believe this, I’m calling LPS.” 

“Call ‘em." 

"I'm calling, I'm doing it." 

"Call ‘em up. Do it Chrys. I dare you.” 

“Ring ring hello, LPS, I need you to take this little from this woman immediately. Yes, yes ma’am,” I could feel Joan giggling as Chrysta continued, “she’s making the baby do a huuuge bong rip--” 

Joan burst out into proper laughter again, and I couldn’t help it: I laughed too. It was funny, alright? I hoped they’d write it off as reactionary laughing, laughing because I heard other people doing it, and Joan pulled away to face me, administering tickles, which confirmed that she just thought I was laughing at the sound of laughter. 

I was in my second prison, yes, but at least, once in a while, it might be kind of a okay one. From my vantage point, snuggled in these arms in the cushy nursery of a rich person's house, I figured there could be worse midway-prisons. 

Maybe I’d even miss it once I was a continent away, never to be seen again. 

 

-- 

Thank you everyone. More to come, hopefully sooner than three months from now. 

(also, the suggestion of Ruby as a name was self referential hehe. but this story is not about me. I could only dream...) 
 

[kirababy]

nice to see this returning, seems the writers block and inspiration is fleeting this fall.   Loved this chapter, and can't wait to see the next installments.

[BabySofia]

This chapter was worth the wait! Hope to see another soon!

[Sarah Penguin]