LostBBoyBear Posted February 24, 2023 Share Posted February 24, 2023 (edited) *Future me here, this is the first story I wrote on here and therefore, there are many things that are different. First, like many of the other Diaper Dimension stories, this story may contain elements that some may find unnerving or even unsettling to read about. I do not agree with these methods, but I have included them because I also know they make some pretty good fiction. Additionally, there is a soft sequel to this one which can be found at the following link: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/90405-dashs-redemption-a-stuffys-tale-and-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-15-complete/ Chapter 1: The Trio in the House “Hey there. I’m Hopper and this is the nursery.” I’m standing in a typical nursery meant for any baby boy. Fully stocked, practical and cute. Little cartoon boats even dot the walls. “It might not be a thing out of place in scores of households in other dimensions, but this isn’t the typical dimension you might have been expecting. Sure, there are cars, postmen, government issues and scandals, the weather still rains and shines alike, and the average person here looks very much like most others do, with one exception; their height. At least compared to most other places. This dimension has come to be known by many names, but I know most in other dimensions refer to this as the Amazon dimension.” I pause for a moment. “Get it? They’re super tall, and that’s the big difference here. Along with their amazing technology, they’re almost twice the size of 90% of the other dimensions out there.” I pause for a moment. “Let me know if I need to take a breath or anything. I know it can be a bit jarring for some at first.” “Me, personally, I don’t really care about those things and the vector energy pathways separating out the dimensions from one another. Leave that to the politicians claiming other worlds and the scientists bridging the gaps. I really only care about a few of my friends and the two other people who live in this house with me; Monica and Charles… well, Charley.” “Now hold still Charley,” a forceful yet calm, sing-song voice echoes through the hallway outside the nursery from the bathroom. “That would be Monica. She’s the head of this house and what people here refer to as a Big. She’s right about average at 10 feet tall and certainly turns heads when walking into a room for her regal and yet almost farmer’s daughter looks. It’s an odd combination, but she definitely makes it work. I know Charley had a bit of a crush on her at one point in the beginning… but that was a long time ago now.” I look at the darkly stained oak crib to my left, standing as just one of the monuments to the changes that had occurred since I had come into this house. I shake my head. Such ideas don’t help anyone. “Despite her being a Big, and all that entails here with the ‘mommy instincts,’” using air quotes as best I can, “she’s sadly probably one of the more level-headed Bigs one would find in this dimension. Most treat their charges as their relative heights would suggest. If that means drooling on the carpet and laughing at silly infantile games, so be it. Monica may stoop occasionally, but Charley is at least still aware of what’s around him currently.” A high-pitched laugh bounces off the corners of the house. It seems pained and joyful at the same time. “Ah… tickle time. Monica’s newfound joy in life with Charles and one of her ‘stooping’ moments.” I listen to the continuing peals of laughter coming from the bathroom. “She must really be going at him today if he’s laughing that much. Probably needed a pick me up this morning. Almost seems like he needs them a bit every once in a while now since… well, Dash.” I shake my head again, now trying to dispel his image out of my head. “Anyway, for all the normies not in the Guinness World Record books or who aren’t natives, I will assume most people you know would be classified like Charley: a Little. I suppose some of the more blessed individuals could be considered in the middle category, but if you’re below 6 feet, don’t even think about trying to pass as a Middle. The Bigs will spot those people a mile away and punish them for lying. Most of the time, by the end, the liars will care more about the rattle in front of them than a few measly inches and the possibility about being labeled as a Middle. Lying is never good, particularly with this society.” “Charley, or Charles back when I first met him, was 5’9” on a good day before he shrunk a few inches on the trip over here, so he never had a chance with the Bigs, which is how he came to be living under Monica’s roof in the first place. Some trip with sapphire? Ruby? Emerald? I can’t remember, but he became just another missing tourist statistic in that tour group. Since then, he’s been Charles, Charley, C-Man, Honey, Sweetie, baby, darling, and a dozen or more names. We’ve been together since almost the beginning, so I would know.” “Too much? That’s fine, just call him Charley. It’s officially Charles but that name went out with the rest of the items considered at all mature.” I take a breath and then continue. “It took some time for us to become friends, but once we did, we became inseparable. Going through all he did, a friend is a critical element. He sought comfort with me, more than anyone else. A bond like that can only grow from such circumstances.” I pause and try not to get emotional over talking about the past. It’s tough when viewing all the changes firsthand. “Anyway, I admired his intellect, stubbornness, reserved dignity, and strong creative streak. He admired my calm, superb listening skills, and if he will admit it or not, my fur.” I pause to emphasize what I had just said. “That’s right, my fur. You see, I’m the third in this little trio, but I’m neither Big nor Little. Not even a Middle. I’m a stuffed animal… a bunny to be more precise. Obvious when you look at me, I know, but it’s an important factor to know before I tell you anymore.” I straighten up and flex out my diminutive fluffy figure. “Name’s Hop, or Hopper. Charley named me that the first day we met. Not the most creative of name choices, but I think he just wanted Monica to leave be that night. If I’m being honest, that name was probably for the best, as it could still be used once Monica’s plans had come to fruition. I see the looks in other carer’s eyes when some of my friends are still being called adult names. A turtle named Gunther can only last so long with a regressed Little. Imagine trying to say that with a pacifier in your mouth or when your teeth have been pulled in the more extreme of cases. It’s not a pretty sight. Not that Hopper is any easier, but it’s at least more passable. But Hop, well, Hop is perfect. Definitely more than Mister Bunny, my original store name you see.” I shake my appendages out from sitting nestled against the crib for some time. “Come on with me. Daily stretching time. You see, a toy here can never be too careful to blend in. Society can’t know about toys being real and all. Imagine the paranoia.” I shudder as I begin to stretch at the mere thought. “Talk about yikes. These people are crazy enough as it is, so you don’t want to add to that pile, but still, you’ve got to take your breaks where you can.” I flex my arms out and check my fragile and more recent stitching under my arm. “Can never be too careful as a toy either. This world is hard for a Little, but it can be an outright deathtrap for a toy…” “Take that Captain Purple Beard!” Monica shouted from the bathroom. “No mommy! Never!” Tickle time had apparently ended. Playing with bath toys always came next. “Moving on… I know not all toys have this life though. When I was at the mall, I met the lost and found toys at night. Some had come accompanying children and others had been with adults or even the kids from the other dimensions. Why someone would bring their kid here is beyond me, but in they came, so losing a toy was pretty easy to do. We always felt bad for the adult toys however, because if any Big caught an adult carrying a toy… well, it’s basically a giant beacon advertising that Little wants to be adopted… Those toys were often never claimed or saw their owners again. Probably for the best from what I’ve seen. A toy can feel just as sad over a loss, you know?” “I couldn’t believe some of the toys in there. They were so high and mighty because they thought they were celebrities. Apparently, their dimension had this whole franchise about toys coming to life. It’s tough to imagine an entire society knowing that toys were truly alive, but it always got confirmed that everyone thought it was just from the mind of a really creative team and not something that could ever truly happen. That is at least once you got them talking for a bit and not just bragging. In the end, if any of those toys actually ever were retrieved, they usually never wanted to come back and preferred their own dimension over ours. Can’t blame them there.” I stretch one ear and then the other, and they flutter slightly as they both reach their furthest point. “Oh yeah. That’s the spot… where was I?” I pause for a moment and collect my thoughts. “Oh, yes! Not every toy is cut out for this dimension, but there are some pretty big positives. In other dimensions, toys are used until they break, or the child grows up. If they’re lucky, they’ll be donated to a new owner to start the cycle again or be placed in storage. The unlucky ones get dumped and ruined to the point where no child would ever want to play with them, which inevitably leads to them rotting away in a dump or worse… being incinerated.” I shudder in fear at the thought. “Fortunately, here, a Little growing up is practically unheard of. The love of a Little could last decades, and most toys only fade away after completely wearing out or if their Little passes away.” Charley laughs again from the bathroom and reminds me of how we got here in the first place. Why a nursery was even in this house in the first place. I look at the ground in shame and regret. “I can’t lie though…” I let out a big sigh and lean back into the changing table nearby, “sometimes, being a toy here is tough. All other toys’ main objective is creating joy and love in a child’s life and to be loved and cherished back. In the past five years though, toys here have another purpose. We’re now equipped with subliminal messages we have to use on the Littles. Most Bigs don’t realize the messaging is in all toys now, though many of them know at least of the possibility of having similar technology in the specially marked toys. The Mister Cuddles Bear line was extremely popular about three years ago. It alone could regress a Little in under a month after being prompted to do so by the Big. Most Littles didn’t know about the technology until it was too late. They would cling to their one unjudging friend, and it would be all over. Seek comfort after a tough day of mentally regressing and the bear would only further the cycle and send them further downward. Poor little tykes.” “Due to this new technology though, all toys now have a primary mission of using their messaging, or other bits of regressive technology, on their Littles until the desired regression has been achieved. Once it has, we become like any other toy, but our primary mission still hangs over us like a dark cloud of guilt. How could a toy profess to love and care for their Little when every day with them will just lead the Little back to their early childhood or earlier? It’s a question every toy now asks themselves and then must live with afterward. I envy anyone like you that doesn’t have to worry about that in their lives. The ones that see a Little after they’ve been regressed…” Oh god! Please help me, Hop. I don’t know if I can make it through this… Please don’t let her take me… take my mind. Oh. Oh no! Anything but that. Not now! The memory strikes deep within me. It passes in a moment but the pangs of guilt are still there. I glance around the baby blue nursery and infantile accoutrements laid before me with regret. “This is what I must live with now. It wasn’t all me, but I started the process, and I can’t escape it. This room was once classified as a ‘big boys’ room. Charles cringed at that for the longest time… until he didn’t, when he became Charley.” Despite the cartoon characters on the walls and clothing suited for someone under eight, it seemed practically adult compared to where I was standing now. A long changing table packed with diapers and everything else one needs to facilitate those with a Little; a tall and inescapable crib, a bouncer, a rocking chair strong and wide enough for any Big to cuddle with their Little on, a toy chest packed with items only Littles could treasure, and a small bookcase filled with books, where those at the top could be read by a Big and those at the bottom could really only be looked at by Littles. “I miss the ‘big boy’ room.” “I can’t say that I do…” a voice says from above. “I can’t blame you there, Sandy,” I say to the moon-shaped nightlight perched at the top of the dresser. “You only came in when Charley started getting afraid of the dark again. That was right when all this started to change.” “Yep. I would have loved to have met ‘Charles.’ But hey, at least you get to play with him…” “Very true, Sandy. Very true.” I pause and see his faint glow in the dim room of the afternoon. “Charley definitely appreciates you though.” “Right as always, Hop,” he replies back. “The little bugger loves my safety at night. Can’t blame a Little for that.” He’s right and I settle fully back against the changing table and smell the cacophony of nursery-associated smells. I focus on the sweeter ones of clean linen and baby powder to distract myself. “Anyway, regardless of what this place looks like now, I remember what it used to look like when I came home from the mall with Monica. Back before…” I gesture around the nursery, “all this.” Edited April 6 by LostBBoyBear Updated link to sequel 12 Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted February 24, 2023 Share Posted February 24, 2023 That was very interesting story, kind of reminded me of Calvin and Hobbs a little. Don't know if Charlie sees Hop as a real bunny like Calvin sees Hobbs as a real tiger. Might be interesting if you continue with this.. Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted February 24, 2023 Author Share Posted February 24, 2023 Thank you. I didn't even think of the connection with Calvin and Hobbes, but that's an interesting comparison. I will also definitely be continuing with this story. I have several other parts already written out that I just need to edit a bit at this point. Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted February 24, 2023 Author Share Posted February 24, 2023 Chapter 2: I'm Coming Home In my window display, I saw the world as it was around me, easily spying on anyone who passed by. Actual children and Littles would saunter on by and look at me with dread or enthusiasm. I began to classify them myself, thinking how the three labels for this society didn’t seem enough. Bigs or Middles seemed simple enough, as their abilities weren’t affected too much by their height or other perceived advantages. Littles on the other hand, seemed to cover several different states of being. In front of me now were three perfect examples. The boy on the left looked fearfully at me. Tears coated his cheeks and dripped onto his shortalls and the pacifier that was strapped around his head. His pants seemed to bulge slightly, but unless you had somehow seen that the bulge was a diaper, I’m not sure most would have been aware of its presence. The Little was obviously unregressed and new to this lifestyle. As the other two Littles shoved into him, he braced himself on the window, showing off his thickly padded baby blue mittens. A large imposing man yanked on the reins I now just noticed on him and pulled him away. He didn’t fight the man, so I knew he wasn’t fresh, but he probably still thought about escape. A life not tethered and bound to another person. The second Little seemed embarrassed to be looking at me and the other bunny, Miss Pink, next to me. But still, there was something more to her. She seemed to go through small waves of joy and then trepidation. Not used to this lifestyle but giving in, particularly considering her far off look at one point and then the pawing at her diaper underneath her short dress. Using her diaper without thought, but she had obviously realized it afterward, noticed its state, and then wanted it to be changed. Whap! Whap! Whap! I saw a daddy spanking his Little girl over on a bench by the pretzel store. Normally a place of good smells and sights was now only prominently marked by a screaming and pleading Little as her butt was being spanked mercilessly by her daddy’s hand. “You.” Whap! “Do.” Whap! “Not.” Whap! “Use.” Whap! “Bad words.” Whap! “Like that!” Whap! Whap! Whap! “I’m sowwy! Oww! Oww! I’m sowwy, Daddy! It won’t happen… oww! Again!” It was a common sight around here and could almost be guaranteed to happen at least once every two hours when the mall was open. Anyway… the third Little was a boy, obviously regressed as drool began to coat the glass in front of us. His lack of teeth could have been a sign of lower regression, but his lack of inhibition over wearing just a onesie that thickly bulged out with what could only be a massive diaper and a pacifier dangling from its collar, covered in spit, said much more. That being said, I always found the eyes to be an excellent judge of a Little’s state, more than how they were dressed or even acted. The first Little’s eyes seemed fearful, but they had a spark of hope and possibly even defiance still. The second Little showed bits of defiance and possibly even a desire beyond this life, but still maintained a spark of youth and amusement. The drool-coated Little though, had no defiance, spark, or hope. His eyes seemed scattered and unfocused, which put this Little in the most severe of regression categories. Other Bigs may have classified Littles by their abilities, but I always thought of those as window dressings. Surgeries and all could eventually dull a Little, but their eyes would show the life still entombed within them until that point actually came, which could take days or even years depending on the Little. I even heard rumors from my display case that some Littles cracked within hours. ‘Poor little tykes…’ “Barry!” the Little’s mother rushed over and pulled them away from the glass as they crouched down to their level. “Just what am I going to do with you Little man?” “Mommy! Bunny!” the Little pointed excitedly toward me and seemed frustrated that he had been pulled away from his viewing spot. “Yes, Barry. That’s a Bunny, but you don’t need that one, honey. I’ll get you another one. Now, come on. Mommy needs to wipe up your mess, baby.” The mother was obviously right. Barry didn’t need me. Maybe another bunny, but not my model. She pulled a few wet wipes from a small package in her purse and wiped off the window that had been covered in drool, and then used another wipe on Barry’s face. He flinched but stayed still. Most seasoned Littles knew the consequences of fighting a Big, particularly in public, though I suspected his reaction was more of a Little’s impatience of such a minor and tedious task such as cleaning one’s face. “Rats, there goes another one,” Miss Pink breathed when no one was around. “I swear that girl was going to choose me.” Miss Pink and I had a competition to see who would be taken out of the display window first. Being a stuffed animal entitled us to no money or property, so personal pride meant a lot. “Eh. Maybe tomorrow, Miss Pink. I think it would take a lot for these Bigs to choose anything not fresh from the package.” Miss Pink only nodded, before quickly resuming her pose as a Big couple passed the store window. We had been in the display window together to advertise a new type of stuffed animal line, but we had come to learn that though Littles may look at us excitedly from the outside, the Bigs doing the paying would always want something fresh from a box Mr. Kincade kept in the back of the store in storage. Identical in every way, but that was just the way of a Big. Once they had passed, I continued up again. “I think we had a shot with the Little boy. If only he wasn’t so regressed.” “Tell me about it! That mother seemed like one of the nice ones too,” Miss Pink fondly recalled. “Maybe a bit forceful, but she even thought about getting him a bunny anyway. Not like the man with the lesser regressed one…” “True, but I don’t think she was too nice though. He was pretty regressed. I’m not sure if our technology could even touch his state.” “You underestimate our power, Mister Bunny, but I guess regressing them no matter what is just who they are. It’s practically genetic at this point!” She let out a small chuckle. “I think the other Little boy and the girl would have been perfect though. Still enough left to regress, but not so much that we would be considered a waste as compared to Jefferson.” I nodded and snapped back into place. Another Little girl was arriving and now looking at Miss Pink. Both her and her mother seemed excited, but I could see Miss Pink, despite her statuesque pose, was disappointed when they walked inside the store. ‘Another one wanting the fresh packaging…’ I thought of Jefferson still housed inside as I continued to pose. He was inside the shop and while his model was popular and even designed by a Little, his line was over 15 years old. He didn’t possess any technology, so most Bigs would buy him for their already regressed Littles to likely add to a growing collection amassed only in the post-regression state. Buying expensive toys that would serve no value beyond the love of a Little just didn’t make sense to anyone more fiscally responsible or thoughtful. Our line, Miss Pink and Mister Bunny, were among the newer models. We were designed to present subtle subliminal and hypnotic messaging for Littles to regress them into whatever desired state. Rather than mentally regress the Littles all at once though, we had been designed to only create a state of mind that could be easily regressed over time. We stood as a response to Little’s advocacy groups who had said ‘true hypnotic conditioning is often barbaric and ignores the thoughts of the Little.’ While natural occurrences, society, and continual conditioning would eventually regress a Little, our technology allowed the Little to ease into a regressed state with acceptance and without the bouts of fear most other Littles had while being regressed. It might as well have been mental regression, but from a legal standpoint, we were more human. From this, we were often thought of as a transitional toy, rather than a specific toy for those who were already regressed. Still good for after the Little had been regressed, but sadly too good for those who had already been changed. I peered down at my own fluffy form and to Miss Pink’s and marveled over how each part of us was designed to help with regression or to comfort a troubled Little. Her pink and my slight brownish-gray fur were made to be abused and shuffled around in different environments without the worry of wearing out immediately or looking dirty within seconds of use. Our fur was soft to allow the Little to use us for comfort when stressed or sad and was also designed to repel most dirt and grime associated with the activity of the typical Little lifestyle. Our large eyes gave us a more realistic appearance to not seem as babyish and yet portray an innocence, which would only make most Littles feel guilty if they rejected us. Our six appendages, ears included, were firm and resilient and allowed the Little to be able to grip us more easily to ensure points of grip were never a factor in why we weren’t at our Little’s side. Lastly, our arms and torso were adjusted from realistic proportions to be able, along with a wide head and pair of feet, to be hugged or locked into place under an arm without any interference. I was amused in my own thoughts when a larger than usual shadow darkened the light in front of me coming off the billboard advertising for Little modification surgery, where I had learned most of what I knew about this society. The screen was a constant grizzly reminder of this world and the operations that could be done to make them more compliant, like cutting tendons to enforce crawling and removing teeth to ensure they couldn’t be used as weapons or implements of escape. The list went on, so when such a damnable sign was covered up, it was enough to almost make me forget my pose and switch head positions to better view the figure. After a minute, the figure crouched to a level more associated with the Littles. An average height Big with chestnut hair and big blue eyes stood staring at me directly. She wore a small smile as she eyed me and the ads noting my features. I would have thought she was just another window shopper, but her eyes bore a fierceness and determination that I had yet to see with others in front of the window. It would have been downright terrifying if her array of freckles, dimples, tiny smile, and near sparkle of her eyes portrayed something different. Instead of looking at me like an object being used to hurt a Little, as most Big expressions seemed to showed, her expression almost showed a sign of relief and happiness as to my existence. If she had been half of her height, I would have compared her to a child looking at a present on Christmas for the first time, but she was a Big, so this was something else. My mind quickly flashed to the possibility of getting out of here, but they were soon dashed when she walked away and out of my view. “Ah! Rotten luck Mister Bunny,” Miss Pink sympathized not long after when no one was around again. “I could have sworn she was going for you.” “Same here. Did you see the way she was looking at me? I’ve only seen that look from regressed individuals around here. Certainly not a Big!” “Actually, I saw the same thing with Mister Brown.” I remembered Mister Brown from a few months back. ‘Lucky toy.’ He was another toy bear who was popular last year for his huggable nature, and his brown form was displayed in the window closest to Miss Pink. From her vantage she could see more than I did on that side of the front displays. “Some curvy blonde did the same, staring at him for a good five minutes. Almost creepy, but then she went in, and Mr. Kincade later grabbed him and packaged him up for her.” It was big news that night when all of us toys had gotten together, as window toys were hardly ever purchased. Mr. Kincade, the store owner, had only moved us to ensure we were free of dust and still looked clean for potential window shoppers. We were there more to advertise than to be expressly claimed. That night, Miss Pink and I had started our competition. After months of waiting, we had an array of hope that we could be next. Now, it seemed like Mister Brown had only left because he was a bear. They were probably running low or something like that elsewhere, since they always seemed to be desired, and later cuddled, by Littles. I estimated that three of the seven Littles out there were seen carrying some type of bear in their arms around the mall. Less than half, but still impressive considering that almost every major animal, and even some mythological ones, could be purchased at most stores. Creak. Miss Pink and I suddenly posed very still. That sound only meant that Mr. Kincade had just opened the back of the window. That sound by him was only heard when we were being cleaned or when he was getting one of the models or other toys that were displayed in the cabinet alongside us. I dared not to, but my hopes were soon confirmed, as I felt his wrinkled and partially soft or calloused large hands envelop my torso and pull me from my display. It was sad to leave Miss Pink in a way, but I couldn’t help but let out the faintest of smiles as I was pulled alongside her. If I was right, I would be going home with someone today. ‘Goodbye, Miss Pink, and good luck.’ Like good toys, neither one of us moved, despite leaving each other possibly forever. “This one?” Mr. Kincade asked a figure to my rear and behind the countertop. His tone of surprise was easily discernable. “Yes. That one.” “We have others in the back that are fresh.” Mr. Kincade sat me on the counter and faced the rest of the store and the customer. It was the lady from before! “Just came off the li…” “No,” she held up her hand to stop Mr. Kincade. “Thank you, but I have my eye set on this fluffy guy. There’s just something about him…” Her baby blue eyes gazed longingly at me. “I understand completely.” Mr. Kincade adjusted me on the countertop to face the woman now directly, who was still staring at me with almost a wonderment in her eyes. I couldn’t help but wonder myself as to who she was buying me for, as she slid her ID card across the counter to Mr. Kincade for payment. “Is there anything else I can get you today, Miss… Hubert?” the man asked after scanning her ID chip for verification of payment method. “Hubert, actually. Like ‘Hugh-Bear.’ My family’s originally from Gaule.” “Oh, I see! Excellent. Very unique around here.” From the reflection of one of the display cabinets, I could see everything going on behind me still. Mr. Kincade pushed his round glasses up the bridge of his nose to focus on the readout in front of him. Mr. Kincade and his shop were both practically antiques in this fast-paced technology-oriented world, but both had a quality and heart that most people admired. The air smelling of fresh linen and sawdust, toys could be purchased at any one of a hundred different Little shops in the area, but most experienced or caring Bigs came here. Mr. Kincade lovingly created many of the toys now displayed on the shelves, his worn hands and black-rimmed glasses being a testament to the years of his life put into his profession. He always smiled and knew that any toy, even the ones like me that he had purchased from larger companies, were the best and any Little would likely enjoy us for decades. “I’m sure.” Her gaze only occasionally went to Mr. Kincade, but for the most part, was fixated on me. I personally congratulated myself for holding my pose for so long. Most toys like me could hold the same pose for a few minutes in the beginning but then might move a smidge when their owner looked away, even if for a second. No one ever noticed. Of course, if they had, who would they tell? Anyone talking to a stuffed animal or even believing they were alive was likely not a good combination. The machine beeped in front of Mr. Kincade, and he smiled gingerly, which caused his wrinkled exterior to be emphasized even more than usual. “Anything else I can get for you, Miss Hubert? I have some lovely alternative implements in the back.” ‘Damn you, Mr. Kincade.’ I knew the things in the back. Everyone here did. They scared the absolute stuffing out of most normal toys. “Alternative implements?” ‘Good. She doesn’t know. Maybe she’s a half decent Big.’ “Oh yes. If you’re getting Mister Bunny, here,” Mr. Kincade patted me on the shoulder, “I’ll assume you have a Little… and maybe a Little who’s… how can I put this?” Mr. Kincade stroked a few errant whiskers under his nubby chin. “Ah, yes. A Little who’s not so Little. Up here.” Mr. Kincade pointed to a spot at his temple where his gray and white hair was greatly receding. ‘Ever being the salesman. Can’t blame a guy for making a living, but… ugh.’ “Oh…” Miss Hubert looked stunned for a moment before resuming her previous graceful demeanor. ‘Another good sign.’ “I see what you mean. Well, I’m actually getting Mister Bunny here for my Little, because I’m looking for something… a little less. I want someone to love. Frankly, and I beg your pardon, but if I wanted a lifeless doll, Proctor has a whole new line of lifelike dolls.” “I understand ma’am.” Mr. Kincade took a step back. ‘Yay, Monica. You have passed a test most Bigs would fail outright.’ “Mister Bunny is perfect for middle of the road applications these days. I’m sure your Little will love him in no time at all. Never had one returned from his line.” “That’s some hefty praise for a bunny, but I’m sure you’re right. Charles has been so down lately. I think he needs a friend and Mister Bunny here seems just perfect.” ‘Charles. An odd name for a Little, but I like it. I just hope Charles and I can be friends one day.’ “Yes, ma’am. Designed that way too, but I’m sure you knew that.” Mr. Kincade relaxed his posture and started grabbing a bag from underneath the counter. Miss Hubert only smiled and nodded. Miss Hubert then quickly held up her hand as Mr. Kincade started to cover me up with a bit of wrapping paper. “Actually, can I get the display box alone instead? And the blue bow wrapping?” Mr. Kincade seemed puzzled but smiled and then started to get the box from the other side of the counter instead. “Thank you. I know it may be a little unusual, but my friend June came by here and did that for our friend Suzanne’s Little’s shower. Pink instead of course the tiny girl, but it just looked so perfect. I knew if I ever came here for my Little, I just had to have it for myself and them. Such a wonderful presentation as a gift.” “You’d be surprised how often we get this request, actually.” Mr. Kincade set the box down on the countertop and set me inside before closing up the lid. The plastic in front of me was thin and transparent, so I could still hear and see much of the world outside. “A lot of customers don’t know about the option, but a very classic design. Popular for just the right types of Bigs.” Mr. Kincade finished the look by wrapping a large ribbon around the box at the top. It was a bit informal for some, which is why Mr. Kincade didn’t offer it first naturally, but it made a nice wrapping as a present for a Little themselves, or a Big as a gift for their Little. Truth be told, I suspected the design remained as it was for the more physically challenged Littles. Popping a box and lid off were much easier tasks than the taught wrapping paper of most traditional gift giving, a near impossible task for any Little with altered mental, strength, or dexterous abilities. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kincade. I’m sure Charles will just love this.” Miss Hubert picked me up and cradled me under her arm. “I’m sure I’ll be back here once everything is settled down with him.” She then headed toward the door and turned back for a moment. “Have a good day!” “You too, Miss Hubert.” Mr. Kincade gave a little wave from behind the counter. “Stop by any time!” Miss Hubert gave a little wave back and exited the store, ringing the classic bell as she did so. As we walked away, I felt sad for leaving the only home I had every really known, but I knew my next one would give me a greater purpose than I ever had being stuck there. Soon, I would meet Charles and our life together would begin. I couldn’t believe how excited I was, and I hadn’t even met him yet! Moving on, a short walk later and Miss Hubert placed me in the front seat of her minivan. It seemed new from its cleanliness and there were no signs of the regression implements I had seen advertised so many times from the screen in the mall besides a car seat secured in the back mandated by law for all who were classified as Littles. ‘Please don’t change, Miss Hubert.’ Often, the commercials I saw from my perch in the window would be about items Bigs could purchase for their Littles. From seeing those, I knew this car lacked many of the typical items found in most cars in this world for Bigs who owned a Little. Miss Hubert was either very different or Charles was still very new. ‘Charles…’ With a name like that, I guessed all of this was still new for both of them. Still, a toy could hope that a Little would be treated nicely, new or not. The drive to Miss Hubert’s house was pleasantly short. Most communities were advertised as close by and convenient to ensure fussy Littles never had to stay in the car too long, or at least that’s what the add had claimed for some of the more recent development zones in the area. From the same company, I had seen many houses, and Miss Hubert's was very similar to most others on her street. A pale bluish-gray siding wrapped around a two-story house, complete with a garage, a porch, and a neat yard in the front. Miss Hubert had chosen a peaceful dark blue for the shutters and the front door, and though not as cheery as the sunflower yellow, meadow green, or even lovers red, it still showed off a pleasant décor. Miss Hubert retrieved me and quickly brought me inside, occasionally checking her watch, before setting me down on a large gray couch. The room was pleasant, neat, and spacious, and the house smelled like clean linen and lavender. Again, there was a lack of signs that a Little was living here currently, so while the car could be a personality difference, the inside of the home confirmed that Charles was still be in the early stages of being an adopted Little. After some shuffling and clanging in the kitchen, Miss Hubert came back to me, and to my surprise, after a moment of fiddling with the box from behind, she removed me from my confinement. “So… Mister Bunny. Ugh. Gonna have to change that name, but I didn’t buy you for me.” She stifled a laugh. “How silly would that be, right?” She stared at me for a half second, as if she expected a response back. “Anyway, I just need to say this out loud… I’m Monica,” she gave a little shake of my hand and then set me back in her lap, “and Charles is my Little, but he’s, well, he’s still… adjusting.” Monica seemed anxious talking about Charles. “It’s only been two weeks since I got him from one of the agencies.” ‘Aha! I knew it! She’s probably nervous of doing a bad job with him.’ She took a sip from a mug I just noticed she had brought in with her and then set it back down on the table near the armrest of the couch on a strategically placed coaster. “The agency and apparent middleman specialize in non-regressed Littles. I wanted him to accept this role and not be forced into it, but he’s so… resistant. I almost want to change my mind about regressing him the way I want at all.” She looked guilty and took another sip from her mug. “He’s a Little. I know that… but I’ve seen most Littles these days. If there’s anything going on upstairs, in the head I mean, it would be news to me. They seem so… broken. Particularly the ones from more than ten years ago.” Monica looked sad for a moment but straightened herself out and continued. “I didn’t want that for Charles. A lot of us mommies don’t now actually. Well…” she seemed to think for a moment, “…here at least. Don’t get me wrong, I want a true Little, but not infant level… maybe toddler?” She didn’t seem to know, but that was okay by me. With my programming, I just needed a range at this point. ‘I’m glad I’m with Monica. She just wants to be a mommy. No sadist, no butcher. Just ‘mommy.’ Perfect.’ “That’s where you come in. Charles has been pushing back against everything, so I need a little… push.” I figured as much. That was what I was designed for anyway. Nothing bad or permanent, but just little pushes to ease a Little into their deemed proper place in this society. I didn’t like it, but that was my job. My primary purpose at this stage. To truly defy it would be unwise in the current Big climate, even here. “Now, he’ll be home any minute. He’s at a playdate right now, but remember, nothing too extre…” Ding! Dong! The doorbell echoed throughout the house, and a panicked Monica looked quickly at the door. Charles was early, but I couldn’t wait to meet my new best friend. 12 Link to comment
Guilend Posted February 24, 2023 Share Posted February 24, 2023 That was a great chapter. I wonder if any Bigs ever bou5a stuffy for themselves and how would other Bigs take it. I'd imagine that if the Big did buy one or more for themselves, they'd have to hide it from everyone so they wouldn't either get shunned or be treated as a child or toddler by other Bigs. But I wouldn't be surprised if a few Bigs had a stuffy of their own or was padded when at the mall. But they'd definitely need to be careful lol. I love this perspective. I bet stuffies know everyone's secrets, even the Bigs. Imagine your child's stuffy finding out that you're a submissive in the bedroom and that you and your partner are into BDSM or that you like getting spanked in the bedroom. The poor stuffies would need a stuffy therapist lol Link to comment
BabySofia Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 What a unique story! I'm looking forward to seeing more of this! 1 Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 Definitely Calvin and Hobbs going on here, except Monica can sense it but Bunny won't show himself to her. Stuff,s are only able to come to life for the true believers or those that really need a life long friend. Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted February 25, 2023 Author Share Posted February 25, 2023 I actually have other stories planned from the stuffy's perspective in the works, but I thought this was a more solid piece to run with when I was looking at the outlines of each initially. I think a Calvin and Hobbes type of story would be really interesting in this type of setting with the Bigs and Littles. Without further delay though, here is Chapter 3. Chapter 3: Hello, Friend Monica looked immediately frazzled. “Just a minute!” she yelled out. She looked at me and placed me back in the box as gently as she could while still rushing. “You’re a surprise,” she whispered, while putting the box closet, the bow once again tied back neatly, “I’ll get you out later.” Monica quickly stashed me in the closet behind a few coats and was practically giddy now. Her moods seemed to swing quickly but I figured it was just her nerves of trying to placate her new Little. ‘Gotta remember that.’ “Oh, I just hope Charles likes you!” She shut the closet door, and I could just make out the sound of the front door being opened. “June! How… you?” Monica cried out. The conversation came through the thick door concealing my position only so much at this distance from the front door. I could only hear half of any outside conversation not within spitting distance of the closet. “Mon’! Great! Georgie… Charles…” June answered back, still mostly inaudible. “How was…?” Monica asked. I stopped trying to hear the conversation. In the future, I would try to listen more to see what mood Charles would be in when he first saw me. I might not have been able to console or lift his spirits through talking, but it was always nice to know what you were going into as a toy that could ripped apart at a moment’s notice. For today, I figured it would mostly just be introductions on his part. Anything more would be asking a lot of an unregressed Little. A few minutes later, I heard stomping outside the door, followed by the quick closing of the door. “Charles! Wait up. Let’s talk.” Monica was now closer to the closet, and I could hear more of the conversation. “I don’t want to talk to you! I hated that. You said George was like me. You lied!” ‘That must be Charles.’ His yelling rang through the closet door easily and nullified his greater distance from me to still be heard. “I didn’t lie, Charles. Georgie is like you. A Little, but maybe just a bit…” “He’s practically a baby! He wears pull-ups and baby clothes! We’re not the same at all!” It was typical Little behavior at this stage, which meant he was definitely very new to all of this. It was becoming crystal clear in seconds of why Monica had bought me. ‘Becoming friends today could prove to be impossible. I think the most I can hope for today is just not to be torn up. Please, oh please. Anything but that or the trash on my first day.’ Mr. Kincade often received back broken toys that he would mend and sell at a discount or even outright donate to those less fortunate. Those stuffed animals were never the same after being torn apart and I could only hope they found a better life with a more appreciative Little. I think anyone would be changed after their eye or arm had been torn off by an upset anything, let alone a Little who’s supposed to be your closest friend. I shuddered in my box at the thought and crossed my ears in hope as best I could in my confined space. I would need all the luck I could muster to win Charles over. “Charles, please try to calm down. I’m sorry you feel that way about Georgie, but I guess it’s just where he’s at right now. A lot of Littles here are at different stages. You might actually find he’s one of the good ones once you look past all of the… outside bits.” “I sincerely doubt it,” Charles said with an exaggerated huff. “Well, a friend is a friend.” “Hmph. Not for me…” I could tell Charles didn’t believe her, but I’m sure a difference in word meanings had just occurred between a Little and a Big. He likely took the phrase to mean that he would be so bored by all the other Littles, Georgie would just naturally become his friend. From our conversation and her desires earlier however, I knew Monica likely had actually meant that once Charles was regressed as well, the outside bits likely wouldn’t matter anymore to him. Such differences were to be expected. The conversation seemed to die down and Charles appeared determined to stay in his bad mood for the next few hours, while brooding, stomping, and grumbling about the room. From the fading of the light coming through the section of the bottom of the door I could still see, I knew the daylight had dimmed significantly and had been replaced by the lights turning on from inside the house. I was worried I would be stuck inside the closet all night, but I quickly diverted my attention to a sudden noise from outside. Crash! Sudden loud voices started to rumble outside of what I could make out. If nothing else, they both seemed angry and would trade off between each other after a few seconds each. Smack! Smack! Smack! The voices crew louder between the smacking of something, and Monica’s loud and angry voice traveled just enough beyond the walls that I could make out that it was her yelling at Charles and him screaming back, but the soundproofing of the house and the box blocked any real effort I had at discerning what was being said. All I knew from what little I could hear was that Charles was likely yelling out in pain from a spanking from a very upset Monica. A few minutes passed by like that with a smack about every five to ten seconds when the house became eerily silent once more. I waited for something more to happen when I heard a quick shuffling outside. “Stand in that corner this instant!” I could hear more shuffling coming away from the kitchen’s direction that I had seen earlier from my position on the couch. “You’ve been very bad tonight, Charles. You broke one of my plates just because you didn’t want to eat your greens. I want to treat you differently than other Littles, but that was not okay.” ‘Wow, Charles. That was not a smart move. Monica is just trying to be nice and give you something most Littles in this world would do anything to have, if they could even still think. Breaking a plate is not the way to go about this.’ As much as I didn’t want to use my messaging on Charles, I knew for his sake that a few messages now would only help him in the long run. More days like today, and I didn’t even think someone like Monica could resist applying some quick regression treatments. Permanent and debilitating in the best of circumstances if it was being used at all as a punishment. ‘Not good.’ “Now you stay in that corner until I come back. I have a mess to clean in the kitchen and when I get back here, I better see you firmly in that corner.” Her tone then seemed to mellow out a little at the end, but she was obviously still upset. Frankly, her tone became more mother-like than strict disciplinarian. “If you do, I’ll forgive you and you might just get a present.” In the silence afterward, I only heard a faint sniffling. Despite a reference to me, I could only focus on the tension outside and the suffering of Charles. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now, but at least nod your head.” A moment went by. “Good. No stay there and I’ll be back.” I knew I was that present. It just made sense given my current wrappings. ‘Please stay against that wall Charles. Please, for my sake. I want to meet you and honestly, I think you could use a friend like me tonight.’ I had regressive messaging of course, but my routines at night would also put a Little in a more relaxed state. After reading my box one night when I was bored between the games of poker the toys in the store would play, I discovered that set of technology in me was also used in spas around the country. Nothing regressive, but instead, messaging used to calm even the hardest and most furious of minds. ‘Charles could definitely use me tonight.’ An eternity seemed to pass waiting for Monica to return, and I could only hear the still-present sniffles coming from Charles. All I wanted at that moment was to hug him close and let him know that I would be there for him no matter what happened, but I needed patience. Frustration on my end wouldn’t do anyone good. “Charles?” I could hear Monica say as she walked back in the room, her shoes gently rapping at the wooden floor. “Are you ready to come out of that corner now? Just nod your head if that’s what you want but you still don’t feel like talking.” A moment passed. “Good. You can turn around now, honey.” I heard a slight shuffling around and I hoped my moment would be soon. Monica didn’t seem angry anymore, so Charles had done what she had asked and she had time to cool down. I could only lay there now in my box as I waited for Monica to retrieve me from my quiet and dark space in the closet. “Now, you’ve been very bad for me tonight, Charles, but I think after that spanking and time in the corner, you’re very sorry. Are you very sorry, Charles?” Charles didn’t seem to respond at first, but then let out a raspy and broken voice, much different than the one I had been hearing for the past few hours since he had gotten home. “Yes… Monica. I… I… I’m sorry…” There was a pause. “Very sorry,” Charles added quickly but solemnly. “Aww. That’s okay, honey. I don’t want to do things like that, but I need you to listen to me. I’m in charge of you and you’re going to get sick if you don’t eat your greens, okay?” “Yes, Monica…” Charles seemed a little more composed now from his ordeal, but still seemed to hesitate in what he was saying. ‘At least he was sorry.’ There was hope for him in this world after all. I had never seen a Big yet in my time in the window who would put up with tantrums, backtalk, or unapologetic Littles. Accepting their rules and authority just made things easier on everyone. “Now pull up your pants and turn around and face the wall.” I heard footsteps coming closer to me. “You were naughty today, but I don’t think you did anything irredeemable enough not to get your present. Besides, I had been waffling over whether to replace that set of plates anyway. Now, there’s nothing stopping me.” The closet door opened, and I froze in my box, hoping Monica was reaching for me and not some other gift. ‘Doubtful, but you never know with a Big with a desire to get a Little to like them.’ “I’ll probably just end up donating the others.” She then bent down and retrieved my box. ‘Yes! I’m going to meet Charles. I really do hope we can become friends.’ Monica whirled me around in front of her. Along the back wall next to the bookcase and one corner of the room, stood a Little not even 5’7,” which made Monica nearly twice as tall as him. He was firmly a Little but not a newborn size or anything. That would work in his favor for not being regressed all the way. ‘Good. He’s got that much going for him at least.’ Charles was just pulling up his black shorts over his blue and green striped underwear, which barely covered the immense redness that poked out from his butt cheeks on either side. I had never received a spanking being a toy on a shelf most of my life, but it definitely looked like it had hurt, especially considering his wincing as the shorts drew above his waist. Above his red t-shirt, Charles sported a tangled mess of medium length hair. It seemed it hadn’t been cut in weeks, but I knew Monica was probably waiting on more public outings until Charles was more behaved, rather than have him become a girl as some Bigs would do. I guessed she also probably liked the little curls and waves that his hair had started to exhibit in its longer length. Monica then flipped me over carefully so only the rear of the box would face Charles. “Okay, Charles. You can turn around now.” I heard some shuffling. “Is that box for me?” Charles voice seemed surprised and weak, but also grateful somehow. “Yes, Charles. It’s a gift for you.” Monica then leaned forward and handed my package to Charles. With my ears relaxed, I was a little less than two feet tall. The box encapsulated me fully and stuck out on both ends to showcase Mr. Kincade’s logo and my product line, so the box was easily three feet long and a little over a foot wide and deep. It was nothing to Monica at around 10 feet tall, but I was over half of Charles’ length. Charles wobbled with the box for a minute, before setting it down and getting a good look at me through the plastic window. ‘Hello, friend.’ As expected with recently adopted Littles, Charles conveyed a look of shock and frustration. From his mature attitude and short stint of two weeks unregressed here, a stuffed bunny was probably the last thing he wanted right now, no matter how fluffy or cute I was. “It’s a… a…” “A bunny. That’s right Charles. And they’re all for you.” Charles stood in front of me. I wanted to scream at him to ‘Pick me up!’ but I had to keep my cool. It would come natural to him one day if everything went how Monica wanted it to. “But why… why it?” ‘Ouch.’ Not even bunny. Just a single, ‘it.’ Monica seemed saddened for a moment. “Charles, I know this place hasn’t been easy for you and I know you don’t want to be here. I took you in from the agency because I couldn’t see you… butchered.” Charles immediately looked ashamed over his behavior. He clearly knew what happened to some Littles. “There’s nothing we can do now about getting you back home, so you’re stuck here now. And frankly, from today, it seems like making friends here may be a bit of a challenge for you for a while.” “You could say that again.” Monica let a small smile appear on her face. “Exactly. Well, think of Mister Bunny as your friend. Talk to them. Yell at them even. Just try and use them to make yourself feel better. You might actually come to like them if you give them half a chance. That’s all I’m asking. Just a chance.” Charles looked at me hesitantly before finally popping the lid off my box. His small Little-sized hands grabbed me by the waist and held me up. We were face to face for the first time and I got a good look at Charles. His round nose and soft features only accentuated his younger looks with his unkempt longer hair. Brilliant green eyes pierced my inner being and I could tell without hesitation that a brightness burned within them. He was clearly the in first stage of how I classified Littles, if his red action movie t-shirt wasn’t my first clue of his unregressed nature. No Little, even partially regressed, would be allowed to wear such an item. Still, the only thing to offset his cute unregressed looks were his red and puffy cheeks, and the still present moisture adorning them. Clearly, Monica had reduced him to tears during the spanking over its intensity and maybe just a small hint of humiliation that it had caused him. Hopefully, he would learn quickly. I didn’t like seeing my new friend so upset. “So, what do you think of them?” Charles eyed me with distrust, but I could feel his fingers slightly burrowing into my soft sides. “He’s… fluffy.” “Well, that’s something.” Monica got up from where she had sat on the couch after handing me to Charles. “Look, I know you probably think of them as just a toy but remember where you are. Our technology here is at least 20 years, if not more in some areas, ahead of even the best in your dimension.” ‘Ah. Portal Little. That explains a lot. This transition is going to take some effort for sure.’ I figured as much with his attitude, but it was nice to confirm where Charles was coming from. “These toys are special. They have aids to help you fall asleep at night. Isn’t that cool?” ‘Ah. Sleep aids. The backdoor to get any Little to cooperate.’ That’s how it had been sold for years by now. No Little would agree to sleep with a subliminal messaging stuffed animal, but one that would help you sleep in such an unforgiving world to your kind… that was a different story. I in fact did help Littles sleep, but that was just one of over 15 features I had. It was a lie of omission, but it allowed most Bigs to get their proverbial foot in the door to their Little’s mind. “Sleep aid?” Charles seemed to ponder the thought for a moment. “I mean, I guess.” ‘Got him. Sorry Charles. It’s for the best at this point, really.’ The line would work on most, and it was only a matter of time now before Monica had Charles right where she wanted him. I felt evil in my part to play, but I knew Charles would need a friend, and I would spend the rest of my existence making up for what I was about to do to him. “Wonderful. Now, you just need them with you in your bed tonight. Nothing more if you don’t want to, okay?” Charles seemed confused for a moment. “Okay…” Monica didn’t elaborate further and just pushed forward, despite Charles’ apparent confusion. “Now, off to bed. We’ve got some things to do tomorrow, and I want you well rested.” Charles nodded and shuffled up the stairs. He laid me on his bed through a door in the middle of the hall, before leaving once again. and I waited for him to return. Propped against his dark blue pillows, I admired his room as I heard the faucet turn on from the bathroom. It seemed bare, but the smattering of furniture, books, and some decorations made the room look almost mature. I was clearly the most immature item for the time being, but I suspected this ‘big boy’ bedroom wouldn’t last forever. No coloring books, nightlight, or even stencils on the wall from his favorite T.V. show. I knew a true Little clearly didn’t live here, and I knew certain changes would be in order before Monica had reached her goal. I, as a stuffed animal, would just be the first step. While still looking at Charles’ tall and sturdy-looking dresser, Monica walked in and sat on the bed next to me. She gave me a knowing smile and quickly flashed a remote toward me. To reduce discomfort, my system had been programmed without any external buttons and could be activated by the remote-control Monica was now holding. Soft and spongy material inside of me was the latest in technology and allowed me to maintain my huggable form, while still being able to perform my functions at night. Once activated, my internal designs would start my messaging once the lights were off to a set level and Charles was asleep. Soon after Monica had pocketed the remote, Charles reentered the room, now wearing a set of red plaid bottoms and a gray top, his face showing signs of being recently washed. “I see you found a spot for your friend.” Monica looked over at me and then stood up as Charles walked over to the bed. “Yeah… sure.” I personally felt discarded on the edge of the bed by the pillows to ensure there wouldn’t be any contact from Charles, but I knew this was just par for the course for where he was at in his development up until now. Charles got into bed and wrapped the covers around him, though to my delight, Charles adjusted me so I wouldn’t fall when he did so. ‘Did I misjudge Charles? Or is this just a one-off act of acceptance or a ploy to placate Monica?’ Some Littles leaned more into the lifestyle than the others, and after dinner, I doubted Charles would fit into this category, but I couldn’t figure him out just yet. That being said, I guessed I would have all the time I needed to dive deeper into him if all went well. Monica slid her fingers tenderly onto the bed and patted the covers. “All good?” Charles nodded. “All good. Goodnight.” He was abrupt and obviously trying to be left alone, but Monica had one last thing to do. “Hold up there, mister. You have a new friend. I really doubt you still want to call them Mister Bunny, or am I wrong?” Charles shook his head and then looked pained. “Do I have to? Tonight?” Charles just seemed to want to drift off and escape the day, but Monica was insistent and gave him a firm look. “Yes, you need to name them.” Charles groaned but seemed to accept her words and think. After a minute, Monica spoke back up, “Do you need any help, Charles? I have a bunch of names if you do.” She smiled sweetly at Charles, but it was not returned. “I know the name. I don’t need your help.” He turned to me with an intense look of frustration and determination. “His name is Hopper. ‘Hop’ for short.” ‘Hopper? Really?’ That name really surprised me coming from Charles. Out of the four tiers of naming, that was tier two right now, but likely a tier three by the time we became actual friends. I just really hoped I wouldn’t become a tier four. I had learned the tiers of naming from the toy store, just like I had done with the regression phases. For the first tier, a toy would be called by their packaging name or a normal name. These toys would be Ken, Barbie, Joe, Phil, Hank, and so forth. No creative effort involved. Tier two showed more creativity by naming the toy after something famous that it wasn’t directly, was a play on words, or reference to its purpose. A Dalmatian could be named Pongo, a shark named Bruce, or a Bird named Chirps. Third tier names often were more imaginative and may have had to do with the toy itself or may have just been a random name the Little enjoyed. A dragon named Ernie, a snake named Mrs. Green Bean, or a flower named Snuffles. Lastly, fourth tier names were either solely chosen by the caretaker or the Little, but due to a lack of ability, the name would always come out as a string of babble or just drool. These toys may have been called Kiki, Debo, or Lala by their Little, but they always went by their true names of Kitty, Deborah, and Lyle themselves to any other non-regressed Littles. ‘Hopper’ felt right, but I was still surprised. ‘I guess you just never know about some people.’ “Hopper?” Monica seemed equally as surprised as I was but seemed satisfied after a moment. “I like that name. Are you sure, Charles? You can take it back later, but I just want to make sure for now at least.” “Positive. You let me choose, right?” Monica nodded at the defensive question by Charles. “Well, then I choose Hopper.” “Very well. It’s a good name but I just wanted to make sure…” Monica looked like she wanted to say more, but merely turned and walked toward the door with soft but deliberate footsteps, touched the door handle, but then turned back to face the bed. “Well goodnight, Hopper. Goodnight, Charles. I’ll see you two in the morning.” I could almost hear the groan emanating from Charles as Monica closed the door and shut off the lights. Charles seemed to be deliberately trying to ignore me and made forceful movements to ensure he was sleeping on his side and turned away from me. Part of me was glad, because once Monica had turned off the lights, my system began to activate, and I couldn’t bear the thought of Charles watching me with what I had to do. Fortunately, through the subtle messaging outpouring from a tiny speaker hidden in my mouth, Charles was soon in a deep sleep; a necessary step to ensure compliance with the heavier options and as a safety feature in case the caregiver changed their mind. After a few more minutes, my more intense subliminal messaging popped on. I was continuously racked with waves of guilt, but I knew I had no other choice. As a toy in this world, I knew my first priority was to regress my Little and to ensure my Little’s caretaker was satisfied. I had seen other toys who had disobeyed their primary order and had been returned to the toy store. They were often depressed, threadbare from their journeys since being with their Little, and rarely lasted more than a few weeks in that kind of state. To prevent this terrible fate from happening to me, I looked to check for any signs of alertness from Charles, and when I didn’t see any, I took my messaging up a notch and gave into my primary purpose. My messaging softly floated about the room, and Charles’ breathing became slower and less forced. Within minutes, Charles was sleeping on his back and seemed utterly content. This was the first second stage to my messaging and would force the listener to lay on their back and have their arms loose and down at their sides to allow for a state of complete relaxation and submission to anything they would hear. Charles was no exception. I could have stopped here and let Charles sleep soundly, but I knew Monica wanted results. I checked for signs of him waking up again with some subtle pokes to his slumbering form, and once satisfied, I then cranked up my messaging manually and laid back to watch the results unfold. An hour later, Monica carefully peaked in, letting only the smallest of cracks of light in, highlighting one of the slim walls of the room on the opposite side of the doorway, which in turn awoke me from my own rest. The floor creaked in small amounts as Monica was able to slide in and examine us for herself. I noticed her usual calm features were immediately heightened as she spied Charles in all his glory, curled on his side once again, but now clutching me tighter than a drowning man to a buoy. My systems had done their work when Charles had switched his position earlier and wrapped his arm firmly around my waist, as it still was with Monica now watching. I knew most Littles may be able to stay strong at first when they’re awake to hypnotics or subliminal messaging, but I also knew that no one could combat even the mildest of messaging when they were asleep. It was why my line had been so popular. Nothing heavy or damaging in my noises; just calm and peaceful wording and various frequencies all performed when the Little was asleep and defenseless. Charles had succumbed within an hour past his macho outer demeanor, and if Monica’s smile was anything to go by, this would not be the last night of using my messaging against my new friend. I just hoped Charles would be spared some of the fates of other Littles in this world and that we could still be friends once Monica had finished with her plans. 10 Link to comment
BabySofia Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 Wonder how long it is before the messaging reaches bedwetting status? Just cuddling with Hopper tonight? Love the world building from his side there! Link to comment
Guilend Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 I wonder if the messages ever effect a Big in any way, like I bit a very small number of Bigs might be wired differently just enough for it to work a little on them. Like turn them into just bedwetters or accident prone. Link to comment
Princess_August Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 this is really intresting. i love this take on the DD Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 another good chapter, get him used to you for a couple of nights then stat on the heavy stuff. One thing about chapter 2, when you talked about Monica,s height you should have said three and a half meters instead of 2. Link to comment
Eagle0769 Posted February 25, 2023 Share Posted February 25, 2023 Oh my goodness this is a great story. I have never read a story like this ever. Your writing as always is great. I have a few thoughts but I want to read this again. :-) Link to comment
Little Andrea Posted February 26, 2023 Share Posted February 26, 2023 Oh man, I am loving this, and I can’t wait for more. Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted February 26, 2023 Author Share Posted February 26, 2023 To clarify Monica is 10' tall and Charles is 5'7." Something is clicking in my head that they have their own measurement system in the DD, but I know feet and inches best, so I'm just using that metric to give some scale. Most things, in this story at least, are more relative in height, so I'm not focusing on specifics like that, except regarding their height to give some scale as to a Big and Little difference. Thank you all so much for your comments, and here is Chapter 4. Chapter 4: Coming Around Time tended to move slowly at the house when you could only enjoy partial days of being with your Little, so I spent my time quickly picking up the routine that Charles and Monica had established over the past two weeks of being together. Both would wake up, get dressed and cleaned, eat their food, and then separate to go about their day. It took three days of keeping me in the bedroom for Monica to finally insist that I at least needed to be on the same floor as Charles when he was in the house. He grumbled but complied within minutes, no doubt a small effect from my messaging. Regardless, for Monica, she mainly worked at home in her personal office space, while Charles would mull about in front of the TV or occasionally go to a ‘friends’ house, if one could even call yourself as being ‘friends’ with someone you seemed to despise. Otherwise, both Monica and Charles would see each other occasionally before and during lunch and dinner afterward that night, but it was also mostly spent in silence or skipping around awkward conversations, largely initiated by Monica. I could tell she was trying, but Charles was leaving his defenses largely intact around her still. At least at first. In my two weeks here, I had noticed this initial routine had begun to slip slightly however after the fifth day, no doubt from my nightly messaging with Charles. I only left the messaging on for an hour each night, but it was enough to begin to shape Charles into what Monica had desired. The bond between Charles and I had grown, and while he first seemed almost repulsed by me at night, despite waking up hugging me in the morning, I was now a constant bedtime companion without complaint. To my surprise, Charles had even passed out two nights ago from a long day of being outside and had cuddled my nearby form without the prompting of my messaging while still on the couch. Nearby, Monica had only watched with a grin that slowly grew on her face. As such, Monica seemed perfectly pleased with the results when she found us still hugging together after putting us to bed, and again in the morning when she came to check on us. Charles had been embarrassed at first when she casually asked about it later, but a few gentle and understanding words from Monica and a few more nights with me ensured this embarrassment went away quickly. For the rest of the week, my position with the family only grew, and to cement it, Monica was now bringing me back from the toy store. Not as a punishment, but as a reward to me personally and to seal my commitment within the family. It was June’s turn today to pick up Charley and Georgie from daycare, so Monica was taking advantage of her partially free day. Mr. Kincade had personally sewn ‘Charley’ into my upper thigh with black thread. It was a high mark of status for a toy to be marked like that, and while I thought it should have happened later in Charles’ progress, particularly given the more immature name choice, I was supremely proud. I didn’t think he would appreciate me being labeled so personally, but it filled my stuffed chest with an immense swath of pride. After returning, I was once again set on the couch before Charles came home and I quickly admired my stitching. It was plain but beautiful against my fur, obvious enough to notice, but not enough to detract from my overall appearance. The font and black color almost gave it a flaming tattoo look, but I doubt Charles would see it as such. Then, I held my breath as I heard June’s car pull up and waited for Charles to enter. The door burst open this time and Charles flew inside. He seemed to be alive with youthful energy and genuinely actually seemed happy. I had noticed each day that Charles had seemed to be more accepting of his position at daycare or at Georgie’s house. June was in a rush obviously and I only saw Monica wave at her while the car was backing out of the driveway. As soon as Monica closed the front door, Charles began talking in earnest. “Guess what! Guess what!” “What?” Monica popped back with a smile. “Today, I played with a snake!” “A snake?” Monica seemed happy over Charles’ attitude but concerned over the idea of him playing with a snake, like most caregivers would. She was quickly falling into that role with Charles, even if Charles himself was still reluctant over his own role. “Yeah! A man from the zoo came and because everyone else is such a baby, I volunteered and helped hold a really big snake.” He paused and then stretched out his arms. “It was this long…” he stared at his arms for a moment, “but even longer. I could barely grip the thing just on my end alone!” “Was it safe, honey?” Monica seemed worried now. ‘Must be her Mommy-Little instincts taking over. That didn’t take long today.’ Along with her caregiver role growing, her motherly side had been asserting itself as well. While both could be similar in nature, her role as a caregiver in this side was a function of the law, so some of her actions were genuine but muted. Her mommy side had no such restrictions. “Perfectly. I was just at the tail. Besides, the snake was non-poisonous. Just… big.” “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Now, come on. Sit on the couch and tell me about the rest of your day.” Charles nodded and plopped down on the couch near to where I was. Charles touched my arm, but then quickly retracted it. Charles had changed in small ways but gripping a fluffy bunny during the day was still beyond his comfort level. The brief touch however, showed that his daytime defenses were weakening. If Monica wanted me to push, it wouldn’t take much to break those defenses and have him hugging me tightly by tomorrow. The two talked for the next thirty minutes about his day at daycare. Charles still viewed himself as an adult, which became obvious each time he discussed something about other Littles. They were always ‘babies’ or ‘infants,’ and never referred to as anything that would denote them as equals, despite their size similarities. What did become apparent though, was that Charles was beginning to let go of his other adult conceptions. With others, Charles was still seen as the leader and the elder of many at the daycare, but he seemed to almost have a more childish attitude when he was by himself or with Monica now. Monica seemed unfazed by this discrepancy and simply listened in on each story of the day. Finally, Charles seemed to calm down but then finished with the most interesting bit of news. “I talked to a girl today. Her name is Jane.” “Oh?” “Yeah. I think she acts younger than me in the head and all, and she’s a Little, but, err… but I think she’s the closest I’ve found to someone like me here! We even both like the same music and movies from back home. She’s so great!” “So, you found a friend, huh?” Monica seemed enraptured by this new development and playfully cocked her head slightly to one side as she asked the question. Hanging out with Littles was one thing, but bragging about making a Little acquaintance was something else entirely. “Well, umm… I guess I did.” Charles seemed to struggle with calling another Little his friend still, but it was obvious to anyone listening to their day together that something more was at work there. ‘He probably thinks he just found a girlfriend, while Monica thinks he just found another playmate.’ I knew Monica would be more accurate in her prediction in the end, but I was happy that Charles had found at least some joy in his time here for however long this portion actually lasted. I was left on the couch, and after a near quiet and peaceful dinner, both Charles and Monica resumed their normal routines separately. Charles watched TV for an hour, before he began yawning, while Monica was doing something else. Charles had noticed the black stitching of his youthful name on my thigh, but surprisingly had said nothing about it. He only casually glanced over at Monica for a second during a commercial break halfway through some historical documentary show, glaring at her but still remaining quiet. ‘That was unexpected…’ Tonight, Monica was reading a book, but I had noticed her spying on Charles occasionally, being far more discreet with her multiple looks than Charles had been with his single one to her. As such, I doubted that Charles had even noticed one of them though. From the occasional glances I saw her give, it was no surprise when she caught sight of Charles yawning near the end of one of his shows. “Looks like it’s bedtime for someone here.” Monica bookmarked her page and set the book down. Charles was changing, but Monica had been using Charles’ body language to set a bedtime so far. It was just another thing I knew would be changing eventually. “But I’m not…” Yawn. “Sleepy.” Charles was now almost hugging me as he did so. He had moved me slowly closer while watching TV from my original and usual distant position. I knew the program was not hypnotic, but Charles had seemed to desire me more as it had continued. Given the more violent nature of the program, I suspected I was being used as a genuine comfort item. Despite knowing what that meant for his future, I only desired the affection more. It was likely the closest thing to a drug I would ever receive. “Hmm… well, how about you get ready, and we’ll see where we are afterward?” Charles hesitated for a moment, but eventually complied and turned off the TV, before heading upstairs, stomping slightly at the prospect of going to sleep. He laid me gingerly in his bed, and I once again waited for him to return. Charles’ room had largely been unchanged since my arrival here, though I had noticed a more cluttered appearance in some areas of regular use. Clothes were once neatly hung up, arranged, or pushed into the laundry hamper. Now, little edges were piling over the tops of drawers and the laundry basket, and many of the shirts seemed haphazardly hung in his closet. Small things like that were beginning to happen more, and I knew I was to blame. I wasn’t making him messy necessarily, just more relaxed when things were out of order. It was a small part to being Little, but it could lead to more things in the future being a task Monica would eventually need to take over from him like so many others. Monica had followed soon after and sat on the edge of Charles’ bed again and waited for him to return. As she faced the door, I couldn’t see what she was holding, but I knew any caretaker holding something before bed was likely never a good sign for their Little. As she waited, she hit my remote to activate my nightly commands, as she had done all week, but seemed careful to keep the object still hidden from my view. I knew I would find out soon whatever was in her hands, and sure enough, Monica presented the object to Charles when he returned. Charles wore the same sleepwear, but its days seemed to be limited if recent events were any indication. “You know, after I washed my face, I’m actually feeling a little tired,” he admitted while rubbing his right eye sleepily. “I’m sure. You’ve had a long day. In fact,” Monica held the object out toward Charles, “I don’t want you getting thirsty or anything, so I brought you this.” Charles reached out for it with a little hesitation, and I immediately noticed it was a clear water bottle of juice, complete with a lid and a built-in straw. ‘Damn. I knew this was coming.’ Juice before bed was the next step in Charles’ progression to being a true Little. Its effects would be known in the morning, or at least a morning soon after, if the juice was continued each night. “Uh, thanks? Why a water bottle?” “Oh,” Monica stood and appeared as if she had to collect her thoughts for a quick moment, not seeming to know what to say this time. “It’s to… prevent spills. I know how tired I get personally,” she was getting more into her made up excuse now, “and I didn’t want you passing out with a glass in your hand or anything. I did that once and I had to change my sheets before I went to bed. Trust me, it’s not fun.” “Oh… that makes sense.” Charles gripped the bottle tighter, and Monica only smiled back. He had bought the line, which in all honesty, made sense. Monica had told him the truth, just not all of it. It was to prevent spills, but more so when he couldn’t handle a glass anymore and he would be relegated to sippy cups or even bottles. It was another test by her to see if he would take something younger from her willingly. Charles crawled into bed with the water bottle and scooched closer to me. It was a good feeling, but I knew Charles was still hesitant over showing me public affection deliberately in front of anyone outright. Tonight, with the TV and our eventual mini cuddle, had likely been an absent-minded action. The ending step, for this portion at least, would be to cuddle me without care and to do so deliberately. Monica only smiled as she noticed his move toward me but said nothing. Drawing attention to his younger actions would have only caused problems at this stage and delay his regression. She was learning. “Goodnight, Charles. Sweet dreams.” “Goodnight, Monica,” Charles replied in his more usual frustrated demeanor. ‘Sweet dreams. Ugh. You were so close to a perfect and non-pushy night, Monica.’ I could see Monica’s face showing her dismay to her small slip up as she closed the door. If she had just said goodnight, Charles may have given her a smile back. Instead, he recognized her attempt at treating him with tenderness. Most would think it as the act of a kind person, but in this world with a Little, kind acts from Bigs towards Littles were only seen as furthering their own regression agenda. Charles drank most of the juice once the door was closed, but I noticed it had begun to slip from his grip. Nothing major, but it was a sign that sleep was rapidly taking over. Charles recognized the signs himself and placed the water bottle on his bedside table and laid back into bed. After only a few seconds of stillness, Charles grabbed me and held me close. “I know you’re not real, but I just wanted to say this out loud.” He paused. “I actually had fun today at daycare. I didn’t want to, but it’s just so hard to resist letting go and having some fun, rather than sit in a corner bored all day.” I felt him squeeze me tighter. ‘Holy hell! He’s talking to me. He’s actually talking to a stuffed bunny now and deliberately touching me!’ “I just… I don’t know. I know you can’t respond, but what if it means something more? Is Monica drugging me now? I’ve noticed some differences, but they’re all so minor…” Beyond my exultation over his first conversation with me, I was worried Charles might be catching on. Instead, though, he quickly shook his head. “No. No, no, no. It’s just your stupid imagination Charles. Just take a breath and go to sleep.” Charles took a long breath and let it out. I could feel his fingers gently stroke my fur and it felt nice. He settled into his covers and pillows, and his eyes shut closed soon after. After a minute, I gently moved about in his arms. I discovered that if Charles was truly asleep, my movement would not wake him. If he was awake however, I could react quickly enough, and my jostling would be forgotten and played off as phantom feelings stemming from being tired. Satisfied over his sleep level, I switched on my messaging. While Monica activated me each night, I could change to what degree the messaging would occur or prevent it almost altogether. Of course, all that required that she still needed to activate me… safety features and all that. Initially, some Bigs didn’t take the warnings that came with the messaging toys and were in the room when it was dark. Being automatic and not exerting any remorse for their job or Bigs at the time, the messaging just played with both Big and Little in the room. It didn’t take many Bigs suffering from minor bouts of regression for the companies to install the activation feature. For Littles though, it was just the same routine still afterward. For Charles tonight, the juice and my messaging would likely combine, and if he was susceptible enough, tomorrow he would awake to a wet bed. If this was the case, there was no hope for Charles escaping this place as he was. If the bed was dry though, Charles was stronger and while he may still wet the bed within the week, he could still recover from his time here if he ever escaped. Bed wetting was a litmus test of sorts and a major milestone for most Littles. Only morning would tell which category he fell into. * * * I felt the gentle rustling of the sheets next to me. Charles was waking up, but his movements felt jittery and unfocused, almost as if he was in a panic. “Oh. Shit. No, no, no.” I was fully awake now and my instincts about Charles freaking out were correct. “Why me? I’ve never done this before. Why now?” The relaxed grip that Charles had formed in his sleep around me, suddenly tightened, and Charles sprang out of bed. When I looked at my surroundings to discover the source of the problem, it became immediately apparent. Charles had wet the bed. ‘Damn. Sorry Charles.’ A small part of me wanted to be happy in the knowledge that my function as Charles’ toy had been successful, but I knew this act was a sign of things to come that would initially make Charles anything but happy himself. I didn’t have long to dwell on the thought as the bedroom door flew open. “Is everything okay? Charles? Are you hurt?” Monica rushed over but only got about halfway in the room when she stopped, having likely noticed what the problem was. If Charles had been less distraught at the time, he probably would have been mortified that he was standing there in wet pajamas, holding a stuffed bunny, next to a wet bed, and then would have also been doubly embarrassed over the tears that were now falling on the top of my head. It was a pitiful sight, but Charles was too lost in his own grief to notice the faintest of smiles appear on Monica’s face. I noticed it though. ‘So much for being ‘Saint’ Monica… just another Big. Oh well. Can only hope for so much in this world with them.’ I knew she wasn’t inherently evil, as Charles would likely have been regressed long ago with a combination of deep hypnosis, surgery, and reinforced negative conditioning if she was. Even so, despite my involvement in this series of poor events in Charles’ life, I felt more protective over him in her presence than I had before that moment. If I could have hugged him back tightly to reassure him all was going to be okay, I would have. Regressing a Little is one thing, but taking satisfaction in it was another. That small smile made me very uneasy about our future together. “Oh, honey. It’s okay.” Monica calmly walked up to Charles and gave him a large hug. I could feel the tension stemming from such a simple gesture in Charles’ grip, but he relented after a moment and gave into the embrace that was being offered to him in his time of need. Monica was careful to avoid the wet patch on Charles’ pajamas, but her kind act was a nice touch to soothe his jangled nerves. Charles’ acceptance of the hug showed his growing potential for dependency, but the hug itself showed Monica’s own growing maternal side once more. I may have been changing Charles, but his mere presence was changing her. After a moment, a frail and unsteady voiced piped up. “I… I had an accident.” “I saw that, but it’s okay. It’s probably just stress or something like that. I promise, it’s no big deal.” Monica broke the hug and looked down at Charles’ pitiful form, sniffling, holding me, and still in his wet pajamas. “How about this? You get into the shower and wash off everything. I’ll cleanup in here and then I’ll collect your wet pajamas. When you get out, it will be like none of this ever happened…” “But it did happen!” Charles interrupted. “I know, I know,” Monica said, keeping her calm. “But it’s okay. Don’t you worry about a thing. Let me do the work, and you just focus on trying to calm down, okay?” Charles hesitated but nodded his head weakly. “Okay…” “Good. Now off you scoot into the tub.” Monica gave him a little tap on the butt and got Charles pointed toward the door to the hallway. Charles began walking away when Monica spoke up again. “Honey? I know Hopper is your friend, but I don’t think he would appreciate being brought into the shower with you.” Charles looked down at me, still firmly gripped in his arms, and immediately blushed. I had become so entrenched in his psyche from his morning distress that he had barely registered me still being used to comfort him. All together with his behavior recently and now wetting the bed, Charles was well on his way to a regressed state. It was right where Monica wanted him to be. Charles then waddled in his wet pajamas to Monica and shyly handed me to her. To her credit, Monica made no mention of Charles’ increasing devotion to me, and only calmly took my stuffed form from him with a kind smile. Once Charles started the shower, she stared down at me with a look of glee I had rarely seen her with. It certainly hadn’t been this strong since the first night Charles had cuddled with me. It was nice, but also… disquieting. “I think you are the most important, and certainly the most well-worth-it purchase I have ever made in my life… besides Charles himself that is.” Monica then gave me a hug of her own. “If I had known you would have been this effective, I would have had you here the first week I got Charles. Bed wetting in one night with the juice. Wow, just wow. I thought we would be here in a week with how small of a dose was in the juice, but nope!” The appreciation felt nice, but the reason for it was not. I was helping regress my friend. The smug, satisfied look on Monica’s face made me want to hit her or run away from this whole situation, but the noise from Charles in the bathroom turning on the shower reminded me of the need to stay. If I was to remain or not, Monica wouldn’t stop. She would continue with or without me until Charles was the desired mental age and type of Little she wanted. If I was here, I could at least ease Charles into it gently and provide a constant companion he could turn to in his darkest moments. I resolved myself as best as I could for what the coming weeks would bring. As Monica stripped the sheets, still with her gleeful look, I took stock of the situation. Between her enthusiasm and Charles’ tight embrace of me this morning, my place in the household was assured, but so was Charles’ continued regression. All that had happened so far was just the opening act. Monica still didn’t seem sure of where exactly she wanted Charles to be, mentally speaking, but considering her attitude over a wet bed, he certainly would likely be labeled a toddler at best. For that, I couldn’t help but look forward to our time together. Most assuredly, future playtimes would be a guarantee between us, but at the same time, I also hated the fact that my role was what was mainly causing all of this to happen. No matter how I felt though, I would have to bridge the gap between friend and regressor and my dedication to him would have to remain unbroken. After all, Charles could always be regressed by someone worse. 9 Link to comment
Guilend Posted February 26, 2023 Share Posted February 26, 2023 Very good chapter. I love the part about the few Bigs regressing. Even with a warning label I bet there's a few every year that doesn't read the warning, maybe more. I love and dislike Monica. I can't wait to see what happens next. Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted February 28, 2023 Author Share Posted February 28, 2023 Chapter 5: A Playdate Meeting Charles was gripping me tight once more. It had become the norm beyond bedtimes in the past week and a half as he sought more comfort with me due to his deteriorating control at night. It had only taken two more nights of a wet bed for Monica to insist on him wearing pull-ups at night. Charles had been mortified and to my shame and delight, our cuddling sessions had only become more intense. When Charles first hugged me, it was weak and more a gesture of the messaging than his true feelings. Now, he was gripping me at night as if I was the only protector in a world of monsters. I was becoming his safety net in this messed up world. So, while Charles holding me tight was nothing new, we were now on our way to a playdate together with some of his friends from daycare. It was my first outing since being brought home from the mall and I knew today was a critical moment. Any problems today could set back our progress for weeks, and Bigs always found a way to make up for that time later, usually with permanent and much farther-reaching consequences. It doesn’t take long, and the car soon pulled into Jane’s driveway leading up to another cookie cutter house design that most seemed to share in this area. Apparently, all the mothers of Charles’ friend group from daycare knew each other and were delighted to arrange this larger playdate with all their Littles. Charles and I were gushed over in our mutual cuteness and then lead upstairs to Jane’s large room that also seemed to double as a playroom. Like Charles’ room, the decorations seemed to border more on the older side of being a Little, though calling a garden-themed room complete with flowers and forest creature stencils ‘older’ was a bit of a stretch personally. In this world however, one had to acknowledge the relative maturity when and where one saw it. Three Littles were already in the room, whose names I had become familiar with at each briefing Charles gave about his day, and each with their own toy. Jane had Betty, a large eyed doll; Georgie had Splash, a stuffed dolphin; and Ian, who owned a large brown teddy bear named King Honey, or ‘KH’ as he most called him. Once introductions were out of the way, the four Littles interacted with each other in their own manner, largely dictated by how far they were regressed. Georgie and Ian played together the most, with both being the most regressed and in diapers. Jane and Charles largely just talked, but Betty and I were still clutched tight for most of the time, listening in to an array of topics not quite fit for adults or Littles. One minute was discussing the horrid nature of timeouts and the next was debating movies from back in their own dimension. I almost envied Splash and KH when I was watching them being played with. Ian and Georgie seemed so carefree and would bounce from one idea into the next every 10 or so minutes. The narratives weren’t always cohesive, but it obviously didn’t matter to either, based on the wide grins both possessed. I lamented this world for its limited scope and that the only way to be that free often came with the caveat of being in diapers first. Charles wet the bed, but diapers were still a large step that seemed too much for what he could handle right now. A Little had to be regressed, not broken. After each of our Littles was fed lunch, consisting of an array of simple finger foods and a round of milk for all, it was naptime. Charles had started taking regular naps after last week, even when at home. Unlike the other changes in his life, I had nothing to do with naps. The fact was that longer days than a portal Littles’ world combined with the more energy it took to keep up with Bigs, just simply lead to quickly tiring Littles. Even the most mature and sophisticated Littles in this world could not delay needing a nap here for long. Despite there being a normal bed in the room, each Little was laid on a cushioned mat with a soft blanket after diapers were changed or pull-ups were donned. Charles was deeply embarrassed in front of Jane, but based on her slightly poofy butt, she was wearing one as well after her own quick trip to the bathroom with her carer. Within minutes of each Little laying their heads down, they were soon fast asleep. About ten minutes later, Splash spoke up. “They asleep yet?” Betty wiggled for a moment. “Yep. Mine is. You all check yours.” Each of us wiggled for a moment and gave a thumbs up. By now, I could predict what Charles would be alerted to, and currently, it would take a lot to wake him. Knowing we all could be a little freer now, we each removed ourselves from our Littles. “That was some playtime today, huh KH?” Splash asked the cinnamon-colored bear. “You said it, Splash. Good thing I’m all fluff. Otherwise, I’d be creaking and groaning right about now.” KH then turned to me. “I see we have a new member of the group. Circle time, everyone.” The four of us then sat in the diamond shape that had formed from the four cots. Though the lights were off, due to having two younger Littles, a nightlight projected red cartoonish pictures on the ceiling and bathed the room in a soft light which was enough to see by. “So, Hopper, right?” Betty asked me. “Right. Or ‘Hop’ if you want.” Charles had started to use my nickname more often in our small one-sided conversations, and for whatever reason, it felt better to be called that. More familiar, like one would call a buddy perhaps. “Did Monica name you that?” KH asked. “No. First night I was with Charles, Monica asked him to pick a name. So, he did.” “Curious… well, anyway, I’m King Honey, or KH if you prefer, and I’ve been here the longest with a Little, so I’m basically the de facto leader in this group of ours.” “He’s right. Got at least a few years on the rest of us.” Betty adjusted her red polka dot dress in her position on the floor. “I’m Betty. I was the newbie here until you, so… yay.” She waved her arms around sarcastically and smiled at me. I smiled back. “Being new isn’t that bad. It’s all fresh. First steps and all.” Splash flopped upright and curved his tail and back to remain seated in a crouched position. “I’m Splash. Second longest, but that’s not saying much, honestly.” The group smirked. “Good to meet you all.” I smiled warmly at all of them If nothing else, they all seemed very accommodating to my new presence. “Do you all get together often?” “Not really,” Betty answered. “At least not like this. We mostly stick to daycare when we see each other, but I think that’s because all the mommies are friends and didn’t want to leave Monica out. Charles changed all that… though I guess you more specifically.” “Yes, we’ve noticed a change in Charles. I assume that’s you doing?” KH peered down at me. From his expression, I couldn’t figure out if he was annoyed over the changes or happy and just stoic. “Mostly me, though I think Monica may be slipping him something else as well though.” I remembered the juice she had started giving Charles at night regularly a few days ago. One night and a wet bed, even with my messaging, seemed to point to it being something more than what it appeared to be. “Probably, but good job nonetheless,” Splash added. “It’s tough but let me tell you, it’s completely worth it.” “Absolutely. Some bumps and you feel bad, but just push through. It gets better,” KH interjected. “Some bumps?” I knew I couldn’t be the only toy feeling guilt about our subtle regressive features. “Oh yeah…” Splash blurted out ominously. “Shhhh.” KH placed his paw in front of his mouth as best he could to gesture for Splash to be quiet. “Keep it down, will you? The last thing we want is for them to wake up now. No one is going to be happy about that.” “Ahhhh… uhhhhh…” Georgie tossed in his sleep. All four of us froze in place. We practically held our breaths until he let out a large breath himself as he flipped over onto his front. ‘Whew. Just readjusting himself.’ “That was a close one,” KH said, “We can't keep raising our voices so loud. If they wake up and see us, there's no telling what they'll do. I can't tell you how many times I've had to convince Ian that I'm just a dream. I don't know how many more times that will work.” Jane briefly stirred, and Betty froze, ready in a moment to convince her own Little that this was all a dream. Eventually though, the tension passed, and Jane went back to sleeping on her side, starting to snore once more. The others momentarily stirred as well, but Georgie had been the only once to truly pose a potential problem to us toys with mumbling in his sleep. “I'm going to have to remember that for the future. Charles is definitely a restless sleeper,” I added. “We’re just getting started on this journey, so any advice would be really helpful.” “Will you all just shut up!” a voice called out in a whispered but raised tone from above the group somewhere. “What was that?” I asked at the same volume, ignoring the comment. “That's Tina,” Splash said. “She's probably trying to practice for her recital in the future.” “Recital?” ‘Would a toy even have a recital here?’ “Recital. Yeah, you heard that correctly.” I stared at Splash in confusion still, and he took the hint. “You see, she's a ballerina and while Jane is still relatively mature right now, I think Suzanne, that’s Jane’s mommy, well… she wants her to start up with dance lessons soon. Right, Betty?” “That's right.” Betty leaned in and began to whisper. “Tina thinks that once Jane has been regressed below the mentality of a fourth grader, she'll get played with more… hence her practicing. What she doesn't know, is that she's only being used to pump in messaging at night to regress Jane. More than just me and to add to what she likes.” “Like dancing or ballet?” I inquired. Betty nodded, her black pigtails flapping up and down as she did so. “It’s another form of regression some get here. I suppose activities like that and the way they do them, break Littles down as well. An ‘in,’ if you will. Anyway, unlike the rest of us, she's a rental, and once her job is done, she’ll be returned to the store.” “If she's a rental, wouldn't she know that already?” Splash asked. “You can't see her now, but she's brand new. Fresh out-of-the-box and all. I think Jane is her first charge, so just play along, and don't make her upset. She's got a long road ahead of her. No permanent Little to love. Just temporary connections. All the work and none of the long-term love like the rest of us. If only Little toy makers knew…” “I said, will you just shut up!” a porcelain figure leaned over the top of the dresser and peered down at us. Her delicate features shone in the dim lighting of the night light I had seen that she was attached to when I first walked in. I thought it was just an accessory to the room, but now I knew that it was part of Tina’s setup. If her future wasn't so empty, or if she was a little nicer, I would have said something. Given her circumstances though, I didn't think it was wise either way, so I just nodded my head. The rest of the group followed suit, and we resumed our conversation in a more hushed tone. “You were asking for advice?” Splash asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Yes, you're right. Anything helpful?” I inquired once again. “Follow your guidelines.” KH said. “They're your purpose. Don't follow them, and you'll find out what it means to be a discarded toy.” I hesitated for a moment. The threat of being discarded was the worst fate for any toy. Doomed to deterioration and then fading into nothingness without achieving one’s purpose. “Do any of you… feel guilt? At our purpose, I mean.” “No guilt here,” Splash said. “It's our purpose. We’re in this world to do two things; regress our Littles and then be there for them during it and forever afterward. Anything else is just baggage in this world, so why carry the guilt?” “Splash is right,” KH agreed. “No sense in guilt when it wouldn't do any good. It just leads to bad things.” KH paused and looked at me for an awkward moment with squinted eyes. “Why do you ask, Hop? Charles seems to be coming right along. I mean, he still goes by Charles, and it seems he's hesitant on wearing a pull-up for sleep, but besides that, he seems to be taking all this really well. I can't imagine he would be at this stage without you, particularly from what I saw at daycare with him before you arrived.” “No, you're right. I've been fulfilling my purpose, but… well, I feel that I'm erasing who he was. I didn't get to know him much before all of this, but he seemed like a decent guy with a whole other life. Something more than being a “Little.’ And now, that’s all he seems to be destined for…” “Don't think of it as erasing who he was,” Splash noted. “Think of it more like that you're bringing out a part of him that has long been buried. Technology here may be advanced, but what's in us can't change who they are. The Bigs have that technology elsewhere in secret government labs and shady back alleyways, but we can only push them to the edge. We can't actually push them over. Something in there already unlocked the door. You’re just opening it up.” “But…” “Let it go, Hop. Let it go…” KH, placed his heavy paw on my shoulder. The group went silent. “I feel guilt…” Betty added meekly. KH removed his paw from my shoulder and looked at her in shock. “You do?” I asked, no longer feeling alone. “Yeah. Jane owned her own business before all of this. Now look where we are. There’s not a trace of adult in here. The only thing that's even slightly mature is Jane herself, but even she wears a pull-up now. I was there since the beginning, as most of you know, and Jane seemed so… adult.” “You can't think about that Betty,” KH said. “Whether you were here or not, Jane would likely be in the same position. Maybe even worse. Besides our little talks, hasn't she held you every time she's fallen asleep? And haven't you felt good while she was doing it?” Betty made no comment, but her face showed all that was needed. Even from my first time being here, I knew that Jane and Betty were rarely apart from Charles’ daily reports when seeing them, and if her demeanor now was any type of confirmation, Betty had indeed enjoyed it. “But look at them!” I pointed my paw at the four sleeping figures around us, each in a different position and each showing various signs of regression. “I know all of you have been here for longer than me, but how can you not feel guilt over what we've done?” I glanced at Charles. The chaotic nature of his sleep was nothing new to me, and this nap was no different. Having tossed the blanket to his left and not having any pants on, his pull-up was obvious. What's more, it was clearly wet. I had seen it happen soon after Georgie had stirred in his sleep, but I didn't make any mention of it. Charles had only seemed stiff for a moment, but my big ears could easily pick up the faint hissing sound as he wet in his sleep. “Yes, we see them Hop, but there's nothing we can do about it.” Splash wiggled slightly to face me directly. “We are all replaceable, and that's just what will happen if we don't do our jobs. These Bigs… they’re nice and all, but it would take a force greater than any of us to prevent these Littles from being regressed.” “Even if they don't want to be regressed? Even if regression means losing all of who they are?” I asked desperately trying to validate my own feelings. “We've all seen the signs at some point. We know that it doesn't take much to get from here to one of those blank and immobile pieces of flesh from the advertisements.” The group seemed to take my comments to heart, but KH spoke up first. “You're right, Hop. Of course, you're right, and we all know it. And we've all seen our Littles today but look at them more closely.” I did and I didn't see anything different. “Not much to see, I know, but look at their faces.” I looked at each of the four faces. Each was sound asleep and nearly looked identical. The only thing separating them, besides their hair or skin color, was if they had a thumb, a pacifier, or nothing in their mouth. I looked at KH for guidance of what he was talking about, and he gestured with his own paw toward each of their faces. I looked at them again, and then I saw it. Contentment and peace. There wasn’t a single frown or scared expression among them. “You see it now, don't you?” KH placed his thick brown paw on my outstretched foot to comfort me. “What we do is hard. We are a fine line between comforter and regressor, and that means we need to do our job, but we also need to be there for them during the tough moments that come with it. If you want to think about it another way, then remember this. This society is uncompromising and strict with Littles. You all don't remember, but every Little used to be terrified and abused. We changed that as toys.” We all looked at KH confused. ‘How could we as toys change a society so entrenched and hardened like this one?’ “Before, Littles were regressed over time or even immediately. Those done over time were practically abused to keep them in line during the process, but those who were immediately regressed, were never the same and even mutilated in their own way. Black and white thinking, you see, but we are the gray. We allow Littles to be regressed gently. It's not a perfect system but we represent a softer side to what the Littles are put through. Does that make sense?” We all nodded, but I still felt unsatisfied. “Shouldn't there be more in society than to regress every Little? Couldn't I just be the one exception?” KH suddenly looked stern. “Now, listen here, bunny. We are toys, and though we represent a change, we are not real for this society. If they want, we can be given away or face even more dire consequences. Don't perform your role, and you'll find out just what that means. I’ve given you a way to feel better. I suggest you take it…” I wanted to ask more questions, but Georgie began to stir once more. The group stopped talking immediately. We all waited for him to go back to sleep, but Ian and Charles began to stir as well. Our time was up today, and we all settled back with our Littles as gently as we had left. As much as I wanted to ask, every toy knew not to violate the code. Maybe one out of a thousand could, but those circumstances were practically non-existent in this society. The thing is, there is a true difference between alive and someone else pretending you’re alive. These Littles were under enough strain, and they didn't need the added bit of thinking toys were truly alive. Charles shuffled about and flopped his arms around. It was becoming more common now when I wasn't held deeply in them. My concerns were valid, and I still wanted to know what the consequences were, but right now, Charles needed me. More than anything else and my own curiosity, that's what mattered. I nestled into his outstretched right arm and felt his body heat against my fur. KH, Betty, and Splash were doing the same with their own Littles and getting closer within their own tight embraces. Almost immediately, Charles unconsciously reacted to my presence, and wrapped me deep into his chest. Soon, all the Littles would wake and face the world once more. KH and Splash knew what they were talking about. I might be helping Charles regress faster, but it was a more humane process now. I allowed Charles to ease into his new role, and I reaffirmed within myself that no matter what, I would be there for him through it all. 7 Link to comment
Eagle0769 Posted February 28, 2023 Share Posted February 28, 2023 Chapter 4: Coming Around that chapter was great pull ups after he wet his bed was a nice start. I wonder how long it will take for him to start wearing diapers and Monica changing them. She has all the signs of being a good Mommy and doing what she needs to have her own little baby boy of her own. How long will it take for her to make a decision of how regressed she wants Charlies. Hop said a toddler but maybe not. I hope all the care is included when she makes a decision for giving him baths, feeding him and hopefully breastfeeding him with her special mothers milk. Chapter 5: A Playdate Meeting this chapter was very helpful explaining what a toys job is and how and what they can do. Charles is happy hop should not feel guilty in his head he whats to be care for and taking care of. I have never read a story like this and how great your writing is can not wait until the next chapter I almost skipped by this story when I fist saw it. I'm so happy I didn't. ❤️ Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted February 28, 2023 Author Share Posted February 28, 2023 I just want to thank everyone for their likes and comments. I love the traditional Little story in the DD, but I wanted to show a different perspective with this story. While I have a few other stories in the mix that play the regression a bit slower or already show them as regressed, I wanted to do this story in larger leaps, so most chapters will show a step down for Charles in some way. Now, here is Chapter 6. Chapter 6: The Canopy Room Being in the backseat with Charles again was becoming a habit I quite enjoyed. If it wasn’t a trip to a store, it was a playdate, well, at least until today. Charles’ constant fidgeting was not lost on me, as I was gripped ever tighter around my waist. It felt nice in a restrictive but secure way, though it did little to comfort my nervousness as well. Today, was the first day I was being brought to daycare. Charles had been going on and off for over a month now, but I had never been with him. That was all changing today, and it was just being added to the new things in Charles' life. His continued fidgeting only accentuated another one of those changes; he was now wearing pull-ups during the day. Yesterday, Charles was cuddling with me on the couch and watching the news, but after a few moments he froze. It didn't take him long to bolt to the bathroom to use his special potty, but as his control was slipping, he was only able to undo the top button of his pants before having an accident. It had been the third and final strike of the week, and Monica wasn't taking any more chances, especially knowing that regaining control was never part of her larger plan. Charles begged and pleaded to keep his relatively mature cartoon underwear he had been wearing since he found himself under her care, but Monica stood firm by the deal they had made after the first awake accident the day after the playdate with Jane. Charles blubbered through the entire process, and to her credit, Monica was nothing but soothing. It was all part of her schemes, but showing compassion was a nice addition to see at this stage in the regression. The cleanup was quick, but the padding seemed a now permanent part of Charles’ new life. It was obvious from her demeanor that Monica could sense the blow to Charles’ ego and simply handed me to him while he sat on his bed so that I could perform my job and give him comfort. Fresh hot tears fell on my fur and struck deep into my conscience. I was resolved to perform my purpose given what KH had told me, but moments like these shook my resolve. ‘I’m not heartless after all.’ I of course knew the true reason for Charles' distress. It had been unspoken during the change, but every Little who had been in this world for longer than a few days knew that pull-ups were only a temporary measure. Even most average parents elsewhere knew that pull-ups were hardly a permanent solution to a wetting problem. Their charge either got better or worse, and in this world, getting better was only a fantasy. They weren’t diapers, but their addition to Charles' life was a forgone conclusion at this point. So, Charles was extremely apprehensive over going back to daycare for the first time in a pull-up during the day. I could still see the tear mark streaks from when he had begged Monica this morning to allow him to wear normal underwear. She merely brushed his fears aside and continued with her morning routine and getting him ready for the day, a growing task for her due to our nightly sessions. Regardless, trying to reason with a Big over being put in a pull-up during the day was pointless and Charles knew it. If anything, they would only change their Little into a diaper, but Charles wasn’t the type to give up without protesting… at least for now. Charles knew the resolve of Bigs and didn't debate the topic further. His passivity to accepting this life had only increased in recent days with the combination of accepting the reality of this world and my messaging at night. Former hot button topics such as some of the childish routines and nightly pull-ups were no longer debated, and tears or even tantrums were only seen when something new was added to his life, like the booster with a buckle added to the kitchen table chair yesterday at lunch. Charles knew he needed something more than the small box he had been sitting on, but Monica buckling the belt had been too much for him to handle on top of the pull-ups he had been placed into only hours earlier. The next five minutes were filled by arguing, then a scolding, a threat of punishment, and then quiet resignation and small droplets of tears over using the booster seat. A knot had grown in my heart at the sight, but acceptance would only make his life easier. Even the Velcro sneakers he now wore after Monica had heard from Patty, Ian’s caretaker, of how convenient they were. Charles was insistent on continuing to wear his normal black-laced footwear, but relented when Monica allowed him to choose which of the new shoes he would get to wear. The chosen superhero Velcro sneakers were now twisting in front of us in rapid succession as Monica’s car pulled up to the daycare as Charles braced to see the staff while wearing pull-ups. “We’re here honey. You going to be okay?” Monica had turned around and noticed Charles’ hesitation. He usually leapt out of his booster seat to be free of its clutches as soon as he could, but he made no movement today, except to continue to fiddle with his new sneakers and tighten his grip on me. “They're going to laugh at me,” he finally said softly, his head drooping low. A few days ago, hair would have covered his eyes, but a quick trip with a resigned Charles to the hair cutters had fixed that in less than 20 minutes. “Who?” Monica’s face showed her understanding of the situation now. “Because of the pull-ups you mean?" “Everyone out there. Even… Jane.” As odd as it may sound, I was actually happy to hear that Charles still cared about what others thought. Regress anyone far enough, and they'll stop caring about most things, particularly what they're wearing instead of underwear. Even in a state of distress, it was a sign that he was still in the stages of being regressed. “I promise they won't laugh at you. Everyone in there is dealing with their own thing… I bet you most are already even wearing them.” Monica reached out and touched his knee reassuringly. “I don't want you to think about your pull-ups today. Just have fun and think of them as a precaution rather than a punishment.” “I…” “Come on. Be my brave man today.” Monica interrupted Charles and quickly got out of the car and made her way over to Charles’ side of the car. Her choice of words could have been condescending, but they just sounded like an older person talking to a child. I was temporarily moved from my firm position under Charles' arm to allow Monica to undo the restraints of the car seat but was quickly moved back by him once they were undone. “Now, out of the car and let's get you checked in.” Charles hesitated for a moment but complied and hopped out of the car. In the beginning, Monica had allowed for some hesitancies or debates over Charles’ actions, but with each ability Charles seemed to lose or gain in his regression, she had only outright gained an authority and final say to any of his actions. Once she had made up her mind about something, Charles could do little now to change it and he knew it. Monica swung a dark blue bag over her shoulder, which I hadn't noticed until that moment, and then guided us into the front door of the one floor brick building. Rainbows, animals, and various cartoons plastered a large sign outside announcing, ‘Little Friends Daycare’ and continued onto the walls inside. Though they were all supposed to be inviting and friendly befitting of a daycare, they were done in such a way to make any Little feel small and as if they were being watched. ‘Little friends indeed…’ Not far from the entrance, stood a tall wide counter with about a mid-40s woman wearing a thick blue smock standing behind it. “Well, hello Monica!” “Hey there, Patty. Just dropping off this one today, before I head back out. Lots to do today.” Monica had begun depositing Charles off herself at daycare recently. I suspected she was giving them updates on his further regression, given the timing of it all, but I didn’t know for sure. “Perfect! I know a few who have been missing their friend.” The large bubbly woman then stared down at Charles. “And how are we today, Mister Charles?” Charles groaned and we both knew the ‘Mister’ was more mocking than respectful toward him as per usual with how most addressed Littles who were still anything but fully regressed. “I'm fine, Mrs. Gillies.” Charles shifted uncomfortably and let out a light crinkle, which immediately ceased his movement. His grip tightened around me further. “Long morning, Monica?” “Oh, we've been having a few changes in the house lately.” She bent in close and whispered, but her voice still carried plainly enough throughout the room, particularly for my attuned ears. “Yesterday was strike three, so I'm afraid Charles here is now wearing pull-ups during the day.” “Monica!” I felt a sudden clench around my midsection. If I had been a balloon, I would have surely exploded from the force. This was definitely not the way Charles wanted to start his day. “Oops! Sorry about that sweetie.” Monica looked back at Mrs. Gillies coyly. “Sorry about him. He's still a little sensitive about the whole thing.” “That's okay. We understand that here.” Mrs. Gillies looked back down at Charles. “There are plenty of others in the exact same situation. No need to feel embarrassed.” “You see honey?” Monica tried prompting Charles to relax by showing he was not alone, but only got a groan from Charles for all her gentle coaxing. Both women looked at each other and smiled. “Someone probably just wants to see their friends,” Mrs. Gillies deduced. “You can go on in and see your friends, dear.” Charles needed no further prompting to get out of that situation and went through a Littles’ chin-height door after a distinct buzzing sound could be heard, likely Mrs. Gillies unlocking it from behind the counter. Charles made no effort to say goodbye to Monica, but considering there was no lecture or pursuit from her, it was likely just business as usual here at this point. After a short walk down the hallway and through a wooden door with frosted glass at the top, Charles entered a large room decorated like an expansive park scene if viewed from the tops of trees. Distant green meadows and tall oak trees were painted onto the walls, accentuating branches and bird nests in their foliage. Birds of varying sizes flapped about in stillness or were perched around and below the canopies. A small structure to the right seemed to mimic a treehouse and was currently being used by five Littles who were going down the slide, reading a book underneath, or seemingly acting like pirates from the top enclosure. Soon, I spotted George, Ian, and Jane in a circle by the cubbies, made to look like brightly painted birdhouses. If not for the purpose of keeping Littles contained, I would have been more impressed with what I was seeing, instead of seeing it as just a giant prison or holding facility. The array of decorations being merely used to keep the contained charges distracted. Charles noticed the group soon after and quickly walked over to them. From his speed, I couldn't tell if he was excited to see them or if he just didn't want his pull-up to be noticed while he was walking across the middle of the room. I doubted anyone would have paid attention, but Charles probably was thinking that it was only a beacon of shame to be wearing. In either embarrassment or excitement, I could only notice the multitudes of toys strewn about the floor or being handled by Littles on our trek across the room. I knew little about this daycare, but I noticed a lack of the more regressed Littles I had come to expect from any daycare. No surgery scars, no glazed looks, no crawlers, and no droolers. The categories everyone fears were somehow absent here, and I could only see people roughly like Charles or the rest of the group. I didn't have long to think about the lack of the typical regressed littles, as Charles quickly sat and joined in on the group play. Not long after everyone finished saying ‘hi’ and catching each other up with their days since they last saw each other, another daycare worker came in and clapped her hands. “Alright class, recess time!” An odd mix of groans and cheers echoed throughout the classroom, before being silenced by a look from the daycare worker. “Yes, Miss Valerie,” they all echoed in unison. She smiled at the expected response, and then opened the back door to a playground I could see outside. “Come on. Daylights’ wasting!” The other toys and I were quickly dropped as the group shuffled outside quickly. It was immediately noticeable that the fast pace seemed more in line with fear of punishment, rather than the excitement over playtime outside for most of the group, at least based on their worried expressions as they did so. The door then closed, and the toys gathered around me after only a few seconds. “So, Charles finally decided to bring you here, huh?” KH asked. “I suppose. Probably all in line with where he's at and who Monica is.” Going to daycare was par for the course for any Little regardless of their mental state but bringing me as a safety item was more in line with where Charles was mentally and how fast or slow Monica wanted to regress him. I then noticed several toys I hadn't seen earlier crowd around the now usual four of our own toy group. After a moment, the awkward silence ended. “What's your name?” an elephant asked from the back. “His name is Hopper. Hop for short,” Splash announced before I had a chance to answer. He looked guilty over his quick decision, but I placed my paw on his fin to reassure him that it was okay. “I'm Charles’ toy,” I added. “Wonderful. Always good to meet a new face around here. The weather seems a bit dodgy today, so I'll let your group do the main introductions of this place. You never know when they’ll come back in. Over to you KH,” a lioness nodded to the other members of my group. “Thanks Nadia,” KH said, “I'll take it from here.” Nadia nodded and shuffled away with the rest of the crowd. As the crowd dissipated, I noticed Charles outside playing on the playground equipment with Jane and Ian. He seemed happy, and I remembered what Monica had told me yesterday as she was washing my fur while Charles was taking his daily nap. * * * After expertly removing me from Charles’ arms once he was asleep, Monica brought me into the bathroom. Between the dirtiness of being hauled around by a Little and the growing dependency Charles was having with me, Monica had to select her timing carefully as when to clean me. After a light brushing, she dunked me into the waiting sudsy tub. Gratefully, new technology 10 years ago allowed toys to be washed more often in the tub. New fibers and stuffing would allow ordinary washing to commence as much as the owner wanted to ensure Littles would always have a soft toy to comfort them without the worry of short circuiting or additional wear and tear. The added enhanced technology to regress Littles faster a few years ago posed a challenge, but this too was quickly overcome. As Monica began to dry me, she started speaking to me directly. It wasn’t always expected for a Big to talk to their Littles’ toy, but somehow, I still felt that our chats connected us more deeply, despite them being one sided and being about ways to regress Charles more. “Tomorrow, I'm going to have you go with Charles to daycare. I know he's going to be nervous about the pull-ups I put him in today, so I'm going to need you to be there for him." Monica moved the hand dryer to my long ears. “I don't anticipate anybody giving him a problem, but you know how Littles are. I doubt Charles is regressed enough to not care that he's wearing a pull up, especially with the amount of fuss he put up today.” Monica then returned the dryer to my midsection, to ensure I was dry all the way through. “Daycares can be rough here, but I chose one that catered specifically to what I wanted. I don't want Charles coming out of there brain dead, but I also don't want him to be the mature adult he thinks he is forever. I feel like such a terrible person when I say that, but I think he would be so much happier and unburdened as just a bit younger. Toddler level perhaps…” I was glad Monica felt guilty over what we were doing to Charles, as it meant he would likely not be regressed too far as countless other Littles had been before him. “I'm glad you're in his life, but I wish that he was further along. He is in such a tumultuous state now, and I don't want him to suffer, even if that means regressing him further.” Monica set the dryer down and gave me a big hug. “I know you'll do great Hop. I’m counting on you.” * * * “So, everything going okay Hop?” Betty asked, putting her small hand on my shoulder. “Uh, yeah. Well, maybe?” The group looked at me confused. “I don't know if you could tell, but Charles is wearing pull-ups during the daytime now.” While Splash and KH almost seemed happy, Betty looked near uncomfortable and saddened. “That's good progress, Hop,” Splash said. “I'm glad you decided to continue with your purpose like we all have been talking about since you first joined out group.” In the few times we had met up since our first playdate together, KH always seemed to check in with me about regressing Hop. It was a type of caring in his own way but it was starting to border on annoying honestly. “Yeah, I realized that it would happen no matter what, so I decided to be there for him through it all,” I admitted. Betty’s look seemed to soften. “I think it’s hard enough on them. I don't need to add my own troubles to the mix. I doubt Monica would simply stop at this point, given what she’s said to me in private.” “Ah, the private conversations,” KH said. “Let me guess, she wants Charles to regress to help him?” “That's right. How’d you guess?” “That's the point of all this, at least in their minds. This place is largely a transition daycare, particularly this room.” I looked at KH questioningly. “The rooms here are divided into three categories. This is the Canopy Room, and the Littles here are known as Birds. In this room, Littles are the least regressed group and include those who are new to this life, and those who are about to progress to the next group. Likely, no Little will stay here permanently. Due to the extreme changes that occur with the Littles in this room, it has been nicknamed the ‘Entertainment Room’ by the staff. Tantrums and accidents abound here.” The theme of the room was now obvious, and I fixated on a nearby Robin, perched on a branch above a bookcase, the shelves designed to look like interwoven tree branches, and filled with several thick and colorful books. “The next is the Meadow Room and is the middle stage group, but many Littles will actually end up there permanently, rather than progressing to the third group,” KH continued. “While the Canopy Room may be the exception to wearing diapers, like Ian, it’s basically the law for the Meadow Room. Because of the possibility of it being a final stage for some Littles, regressions can vary widely. From what we've seen here so far, most will end up there permanently these days if the Little is lucky.” “Very lucky,” Splash added. “It's probably where most of us will end up, if the mommy conversations I’ve overheard are to be believed.” “Hard to say, honestly, but it’s a good guess,” KH nodded in agreement. “Ian has been in the Canopy Room the longest, and for a time, most thought he would actually be one of the rare ones to stay. After Georgie switched to diapers though, it doesn't seem likely now.” KH paused and seemed to think for a moment. “Anyway, each Little is known as a Deer or a Butterfly in the Meadow Room. Permanent Littles who won't move on are known as Deer, but those still transitioning, are known as Butterflies. The staff calls it the ‘Reality Room,’ since that's usually where everyone ends up, fortunately.” I contemplated the two rooms and the couple of groups of this place that I had heard so far. It was a sobering fact that the Meadow Room would be considered mature compared to whatever the third group was. Betty seemed to notice my sadness over what lay in store for Charles and rested her hand on my shoulder again. “Don't think too much on it, Hop. The Meadow Room is actually really nice. We all got to see it when we first came here with our Littles. It's full of trees and green hills, and there are so many fun toys to play with. It's all very beautiful, and every Little seemed very happy there. Don't worry about Charles, okay? He’ll be fine.” “It's a real Littles’ paradise for sure,” KH interjected. “Too bad the Little has to be regressed to get in… mentally that is.” KH paused and seemed sad for a moment before resuming his explanation. “The Burrows Room houses the most regressed, as the entire group there would be classified as an infant or newborn level. There's always soft lighting or it's completely dark, like being underground, so the Littles won't be disturbed during their naps or intermittent play times. These Littles are known as Gophers and are usually the far more regressed ones. If your Little ends up there, your playtime with them may be limited, but truthfully, they might not even realize where or even who they are at that point. They’re all basically blank slates, which is why we have nicknamed it the ‘Depression Room.’ Staff calls it the ‘Final Room.’ Both names are as accurate as they equally suck, befitting of such a room.” I thought deeply over what the best-case scenario for Charles would be. The Meadow Room seemed wonderful, but I was worried that it was only a step away from the Burrows Room. I didn't have long to think when a frog near the window shouted out, “Someone's coming!” All the toys in the room froze and fell to the ground as the door burst open and a Little adorned in red overalls clutched their crotch tightly and ran to the bathroom as fast as they could. A few tense minutes later, the Little emerged from the bathroom with a smile on their face. They had made it in time fortunately. Once back outside, the group resumed talking. “Not long now,” Splash said. “Poor little.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “They made it.” “Any Little like that is likely going to end up padded soon. They probably only felt the urge minutes before they burst through the door,” KH spoke up. “Charles was like that last week…” I continued asking odds and ends questions about the daycare itself and how Charles was doing for the next 15 minutes. A bell rang outside, and all the Littles soon scampered back inside. After another round of playing, holding us, and talking to each other, it was lunchtime, and every Little ate according to their regression level. At this point, Charles seemed to be about in the middle of the Canopy Room. While he still fed himself, his coordination didn't seem as solid as some of the less regressed and apparent new members. Still, from my place on the floor nearby, I took it as a triumph each time the spoon of applesauce made it into his mouth cleanly. After all, he was still feeding himself, unlike Ian and Georgie. After the bulk had finished eating, the Littles were then quickly checked for dryness and then wrangled onto a series of cots or away for a change. Charles was gratefully dry, much to his delight. Most of the Littles, including Charles, clutched their toys tightly against their chests as they settled in and blankets were pulled over them. The overhead lights were dimmed and the room felt as if it was paused in time from the immense quiet and stillness that ensued.. The staff soon slipped into another room, and the rest of the toys took advantage of the situation and left their Little to commune with each other once more. “Hey, KH. Why is Ian still here?” I asked, remembering the categories of rooms and Ian’s obvious regression. It didn’t add up. “That’s a good question. Pretty much one of the top mysteries here, but I think the mommies wanted to wait until all their Littles were at the same level. Move on together. You know? Kinda like our playdates lately.” I nodded but I didn’t like the sound of that. Ian was clearly on the lower end of the regression spectrum for the room and if all were to be equal, it didn’t bode well for Charles’ future. Before I could ask more questions though, a large parrot soon approached our group. “Hey y'all.” The bird turned to me. “How are you doing… Hop, right?” “That’s right. I'm doing good. Thanks for asking. Sorry, I didn't catch your name.” I held out my paw for an introductory shake. The parrot took it gladly and we both shook, his bright feathers shining against my fur. “Pete's the name. Good to meet you Hop. Charles is a special kid and I'm glad he has you. He played with me occasionally, but I could tell recently that he was missing his own. I'm glad he finally brought you. Oh, and just in case you were wondering, we’re rarely brought outside to play with the Littles.” He paused. “I saw you looking outside earlier. The staff knows it’s dangerous and dirty out there, even for us fancy toys, so we usually stay inside.” The parrot started to turn away, but then shot back, his colorful feathers waving around as he did so. “Oh! I just remembered to tell you before I check on the others. Beware the dog on the other side of the fence. He’s a real cutie most of the time, but he loves nothing more than to chew and rip us toys to shreds. Most do in this world. In their nature or something… Just be careful if you ever find yourself outside. Later y’all!” Pete waved his large wing at us and waddled away. “Who was that?” I asked once he left. “Pete seemed all… official. Like the proper greeting committee.” “Good observation, Hop,” KH said. “He’s Nadia’s second around here. The two oversee maintaining the peace between us toys and ensuring everyone is okay.” “He’s great, but definitely beware of that dog,” Betty added. “I would hate to see anything happen to you.” I looked at Betty and her large doll eyes seemed genuinely concerned over my well-being. It felt nice and I held her hand to reassure her. “I’ll be sure to steer clear of him. Promise.” I crossed my heart in a half-hearted joking manner with my other paw and we both smiled at each other. The moment was nice with Betty but was suddenly interrupted by someone else clearing their throat above us. “Ahem.” We both looked up and saw Nadia on a table overhead. She then hopped down and padded her way towards me. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m hoping I can steal Hop away for a moment?” No one, including me, seemed to mind, so I followed Nadia away from the group. She settled on an empty area beneath the slide from the treehouse. “I hope you’re getting on well here, Hop, but I wanted to ask you about Charles. His regression seems to be going… slow.” I looked at her for a moment trying to deduce what she was really asking. “It’s all good here… thanks, but Charles is regressing. He’s even wearing pull-ups during the day.” “True, but I know your line,” she purred. “You all regress your Littles quickly. Nothing breakneck like the old days, but faster than how long you’ve been with him if my reports are correct. You’ve been with Charles, what? Four weeks next Friday? Maybe more?” I nodded. “In that time with your abilities, I would think Charles would be in diapers and maybe even in the Meadow Room by now.” She paused and then looked deeply at me. “You’re purposefully not exposing him to everything, are you?” ‘Damn. She knows.’ I hadn’t been putting my messaging on for more than thirty minutes each night, rather than the usual hour I had been doing after Charles’ first daytime accident. I just felt too guilty to go all out with him. Still regressing but easing him into it. From everything I had seen, it was working, and Charles wasn’t getting buried or too overwhelmed by everything. “Yes… but I’m still doing it.” “I knew it!” Nadia seemed happy in her discovery, but then resumed her calm demeanor. “You need to be careful, Hop. I know that if you go too fast, Charles will become upset over the rapid losses, but if you go too slow, it could be bad for you. Has Monica expressed any hint of disappointment over a lack of progress?” I looked down at my feet as I remembered our conversation from yesterday. “I’ll take that as a yes. Just be cautious of how much you do it. Monica used to pick up Ian all the time in the early days before she got Charles, and she seemed dead set on having at least a semi-regressed Little of her own. Bigs rarely back down once they want something.” I nodded my head. “I just don’t want Charles to hate me.” “I understand that all too well, but toys can be replaced. Some of us wouldn’t be here if that wasn’t the case.” “What do you mean?” Nadia smiled. “I thought you might ask that.” She let out a small roar and I could hear faint movements around us and one down the slide. Three figures then emerged from the dark; a shapely and well-dressed doll, a stiff mustached military action figure, and a deformed and stitched-together gorilla. “There are more of us throughout this building, including me even, but I thought these three in particular may give you some insight to the mind of a Big regarding toys. Listen and take of them what you wish.” Nadia padded off into the dark without another word and left the four of us alone in awkward silence. “I guess I’ll go first,” the doll chipperly said. “I’m Cassie. I was a fashion doll created to sell more adult-themed clothes to lure Littles into thinking they were making mature decisions about their own clothing. Choosing something themselves, rather than a Big.” Cassie looked sad for a moment. “It was an elaborate plan, but it had one problem… I didn't have the ability like most toys do now to send out subliminal messaging. It was so minor, but my Big wanted more progress than I could provide for my Little, Andrea, and so I was soon replaced by a stuffed kitty that could.” “I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm not sure what your story has to do with me.” It was a sad story, but I did have subliminal messaging and Charles was still regressing. “We all have a theme,” the gorilla said, “just keep listening and maybe you could prevent it from happening to you. My name was originally Harry, but my Little was adventurous, and now my name is Victor. One day, he decided to go exploring in the woods behind his house. We were on a safari and looking at exotic birds and all kinds of made-up creatures as my Little had already begun to regress. It was the perfect day, but a rabid dog found us.” Victor stopped for a moment and seemed in pain. “His mommy soon found us and rescued my Little before he could be harmed that day, but I wasn't so lucky. Luckily, she was a good seamstress and stitched me back together, but the damage had been done. Still having his adult memories, he named me Victor, apparently from some doctor back in his world that stitched up dead bodies and brought them back to life. Frank something, I think.” “That's horrible. I'm really sorry to hear that happened to you, but I'm still not sure what that has to do with me.” “My little... was Ian.” “As in?” “As in the one from your friend group.” Victor looked over to the group now, happily chatting away by the books. “Ian’s mommy decided that he wasn't Little enough and that I posed too much of a temptation to go on more adventures. Despite being loved by him, she was a Big and her word was law. I ended up here not long after where every day I'm rejected by another kid. I'm either seen as broken or ugly.” “I can't believe she would do that to you.” “Believe it,” Cassie interjected, though resuming her bubbly demeanor. “We are hoping that you begin to see of our position in this world. Isn't that right ‘L?’” The quiet figure hunched in the darkness by the slide nodded. “That's right Cassie.” The muscular, mustached soldier emerged from his position in the darkness. “Sergeant Luvman here, but most people just call me Sarge, besides Cassie that is.” A small smile appeared across his mustached face. “I had an owner once. He loved me as much as any Little could. We staged large scale battles around the house and in the daycare here. They were good times.” The smile quickly faded away and he gripped his knees tighter. “I knew I was a mature toy, and that my time with him, Leo, might not last, but he seemed so happy in his semi-regressed state that I thought everything would be fine. His Big thought otherwise…” “What happened?” “I was replaced, obviously.” “I'm sorry to hear that, but again, Charles is regressing. He's probably almost mentally younger than your Little was, so I'm not sure of the point. I know you're all trying to help, but am I missing something?” “Yes,” Victor nearly shouted. The group glared at him for potentially waking the sleeping Littles nearby, and Victor resumed talking in a more hushed tone. “All of us prevented our Littles from regressing in some way.” I stared at them in confusion. Each story seemed to note that their Little had been regressed already but were only replaced due to being defective in some way. ‘How could they have prevented it? Did I mishear them?’ “You're probably thinking that all of our Littles weren’t regressed fully already, so something's not matching up, right?” I nodded. “Each of us was loved by our Little in a small way and they had begun to regress,” Victor continued, “that's true. What you're missing though, is that each of us didn't fulfill the purpose we were bought for.” “Though it's not my fault, my lack of messaging and toy line focus wasn't able to regress Andrea to the point her Big wanted,” Cassie said. “I didn't want our relationship to change,” Sarge followed up, “and we were perfect, but his mommy didn't see it that way. She wanted a toddler and not the little boy Leo was when I was with him. I turned off my messaging and it didn't take long for her to find out that something was wrong. She never suspected it was me doing it on purpose, but she thought I was defective and sent me away.” Before I had a chance to ask any questions, Victor spoke up. “Like you and so many other toys, I felt guilty to what I was doing to Ian, so I slowed down my messaging as well.” “I think that's fine. Ian was still regressing, right? Made up animals is a sure sign,” I tried to counter. “That's not the point, Hop. I blame myself every day for not regressing Ian sooner. If I had done my job, instead of going on a safari that day, Ian would have been in the sandbox playing, just as happy, but I might still be with him, instead of being replaced. Don't get me wrong, KH is a wonderful toy and we're friends, but now I have no Little and I probably won't ever again. Further, my lack of action put Ian in danger that day. Only Patty’s quick action saved him from being harmed.” “Charles is still regressing though. It's damn difficult and I feel like I'm betraying him, but he's still going down the path that Monica wants him to.” “You're right Hop,” Cassie said. “Charles is still regressing, but you're slowing down, and Monica has probably noticed. That's not good.” “If you really want to be kind to your Little, keep regressing him until Monica is happy,” Sarge noted. “If you don't, you might just end up like us and Charles would suffer for it. It’s the secret third protocol every toy needs to learn. Keep your Little’s Big happy above all else.” I wanted to ask how Charles would suffer, despite my fears of what the answer would be, but one of the Littles began fussing in their cot. Naptime would soon be over, and every toy knew it. To prevent any sound from disturbing the waking Littles, the four of us departed and went back to where we were before naptime. Almost as soon as I snuggled back into Charles, an attendant came in to check on the Littles. I could see Charles was wet once more, so I knew his progress was coming along even without me, but I didn't want to end up like Victor, being all alone in this place. I had been thinking of stopping the messaging at night to see how far Charles could be taken in his current state, but I knew that was a bad idea now. I only hoped that Monica would be satisfied as well in his progress. I did not want the consequences everyone was warning me about to happen. Keeping Monica happy with his progression was certainly going to be a challenge. 5 Link to comment
Guilend Posted February 28, 2023 Share Posted February 28, 2023 He should try using his messages on Monica lol. I know, she has to activate it, but it would be funny lol. I love the characters and the different backstories. Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted March 2, 2023 Author Share Posted March 2, 2023 Chapter 7: Enchantment and Toy Colors Monica was gone for the night. Some date with a random guy she met while shopping for some plants while Charles was at daycare. She had been gushing the entire afternoon over meeting him and Charles himself seemed to be excited for her date. Despite his progress, he still had some hesitations when it came to Monica, so as such, his elation over her date shocked Monica and I. Secretly, I suspected he might have just been excited to be away from her for one night. Charles likely thought he would be alone but was forgetting the cardinal rule of being a Little; you are a Little and not an adult. It was obvious to everyone except the newer Littles and Charles had obviously forgotten and then been quickly reminded of it when his face slouched after Monica informed him that she had contacted a neighborhood babysitter named Rebecca, a high school student popular with many of the local Bigs. Truth be told, there were some distasteful rumors about her with Littles, but the agreement for the night had already been made. Her job with Charles tonight was going to be a test run to see if she would become a regular babysitter for him or not. Despite being a self-declared mommy to Charles, Monica did have a life that didn’t revolve around him and I think she wanted something more. If tonight went well, Monica’s social life could resume somewhat of its previous normality. Apparently, it had been a while since she had been on a proper date. Right on time, the doorbell rang throughout the house. Ding! Dong! Ding! “Coming,” Monica yelled, scrambling to the door while trying to fix her left earing still as she descended the stairs. Charles and I were sitting on the couch and reading a book geared for the more advanced Little and he buried himself further into it, obviously apprehensive over tonight. I could feel his pure apprehension as he gripped me and the pages of the book tighter, going as far to leave small indents in the upper right hand corners of the pages. Monica opened the door and put on one of her widest grins yet. “Hi! Rebecca, come on in! Come on in,” she beckoned her forward into the house. I suspected Monica was also nervous about tonight as well for her own reasons. If Rebecca was a bust, she would have to reach out even further, and if things went worse, Charles could be labeled a ‘troubled’ Little until he was finished regressing. Some Littles were even known to be placed on a watch list after the worst of nights. ‘Please be okay, Charles. Please.’ “Hey there, Ms. Hubert. I hope I’m not too early…” the teenage blonde Big responded, setting the large bag she had brought with her on the ground in the entryway. “What?” Monica then realized she was still trying to put her earing on absentmindedly. “Oh, this? I’m just running a little behind today. This is the fourth pair I tried on for my date tonight. I just want to impress Ted.” “I’m sure Ted will love whatever you put on. You look stunning even without them,” Rebecca said, obviously trying to score points with her flattery. It seemed to work though, and Monica blushed. Even from my own perch on the floor near where Charles was sitting and being mesmerized by everything going on from behind his book, I could see her red shimmering dress was an exquisite knock-out item. Monica normally had a nice sense of fashion, but this dressed screamed that getting anything but a top tier reaction from Ted would be deemed as a failure. The two exchanged pleasantries for a few more moments and then walked into the kitchen. A few murmurs later though, and they were back. “Well, now that all of the details are ironed out… Rebecca, this is Charles.” Rebecca bent down in her tight jeans and comfortable-looking long-sleeved shirt and gracefully extended her hand to Charles’ nervous form. “It’s good to finally meet you, Charles. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shook her hand by just the tips of her outstretched fingers but still looked too flabbergasted by her presence to speak. I was immediately squeezed for safety to emphasize his continued discomfort. “I’m sure we’ll be the best of friends.” “I’m sure you will too,” Monica spoke up. “I think Charles is just a bit shy around you. He honestly hasn’t had many interactions with Bigs beyond my friend group and those at daycare.” She lowered her tone, but I could still hear her with my long ears as Rebecca stood back up. “Maybe you can get him to open up a bit more tonight. I’ve been using some techniques from a helpful book on it, but he’s… not stuck but…” “Not getting to where you want him to be so that he can be truly happy?” “You read my mind…” “I can only read Little’s minds,” she smiled in her sarcasm, “but what you want is actually a lot more common than you might think.” Rebecca then raised her own voice back to normal levels. “Don’t worry Ms. Hubert. You just have fun tonight and I’m sure Charles and I will have a great time.” “Thank you so much, Rebecca.” She turned back to Charles after walling to the door with Rebecca. “Can I get a hug, Charles?” Monica had been pushing some of his limits lately to only marginal success. To my happiness and Monica’s frustration, Charles had only been making small progress. Pull-ups, yes. Public affection, no. More giving in meant more regression. “That’s okay… I’ll get one tonight or tomorrow.” She paused and looked hesitant to leave, but finally stepped out of the house. For a moment, she looked back while still holding the door open. “Just have fun for me, okay?” Charles was still distracted by Rebecca’s presence and only nodded. Monica accepted the small gesture and closed the door behind her. Rebecca turned her attention back towards Charles and I, and then calmly walked back over to us. “So, how are you today, Charles?” “I… I’m fine… err, what do I call you?” “Rebecca is fine with me, but I’ll respond to most things at this point. One of my charges can only say ‘Beh’ now, so anything between that and Rebecca will do just fine. I’ll even respond to ‘Hey you.’” She smiled to cut the tension, but Charles only looked a bit horrified by her comment over such a regressed Little. Rebecca realized her tactical error and switched gears. “I wasn’t lying with what I said before about being friends.” She sat on the floor and faced Charles directly more on his level, despite him still standing, keeping her presence firm yet non-intimidating. “Do I make you uncomfortable, Charles?” “No, but…” Charles looked away suddenly. “But what?” Rebecca pressed gently. “You’re a… Big.” “Yes, and you’re a Little. But I’m here for you. No hidden agendas or things up my sleeves.” Rebecca pulled up her sleeves to emphasize her statement, her multi-colored nail flashing against the light as she did so. ‘Cute.’ “Yeah, but… I’ve heard things… about your, umm, charges?” Rebecca’s face immediately dropped. “Oh… I promise you Charles, whatever you heard, I’m only following what I was directed to do. Unless I’m told to do something specific, I’m not going to push anything or make fun of you, okay? Cross my heart.” She made an ‘X’ shape with her finger over her heart and held up a hand as if taking an oath. She was a bit over the top, but she probably needed to be to get through to most Littles. If nothing else, her tone and the look in her eyes was genuine and safe. “Okay…” Charles sat back down on the couch and shifted. A slight rustle from his pull-up under his shorts could be heard. “I think I know something else that’s bothering you. It’s the pull-up, right?” Charles blushed and looked away but nodded. At this point, I didn’t think Charles would ever be used to them at this level of regression. That’s just how some Littles were. “I thought so.” She hobbled closer from her position on the floor and reached out to gently place her hand on his knee. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed. Don’t think of them as anything but a crutch, okay?” “A crutch?” Charles asked, looking back at her again. “Yes. A crutch.” Charles still gave the same confused expression, so she continued. “If you hurt your leg in your world, you all get a cast and then probably a crutch to help you get around, right?” Charles nodded slowly. “Your pull-up is just like that. You need them to help you with a condition, so don’t be embarrassed by them. At least not around me, okay? Not around others either, but just start with me for now.” “I’ll try…” Charles replied weakly. This stage of the regression was always noted as being difficult. Decreasing abilities without the mental fortitude to overcome them emotionally was just a sticky situation. “Good. That’s all I ask.” She gave a pat to his knee once more and removed her hand. “Now, do you want to play ‘Sugar State’ or ‘Birds, Birds, Birds?’” she asked in her bubbly tone once more. “Monica tells me you used to play games back home a lot when booking me for tonight, so I thought you might want to play with someone who might actually give you a challenge. What do you think?” Charles was silent for a minute. I thought he was going to reject both ideas completely, but then he calmly said, “Sugar State.” ‘Probably wants someone to play with him who’s not regressed and won’t just let him win. Can’t blame him there.’ “Perfect choice.” Rebecca smiled and went over to the large bag she had dropped earlier to retrieve the game. After Charles introduced me to Rebecca in the cutest of ways, they played ‘Sugar State’ for the next hour. Charles compared it to something called Candy State… or country? Regardless, both of them were laughing in no time, particularly when Rebecca started in on changing her voice for each of the characters. To my utter shock, Charles joined in and began to speak like some of the more nefarious characters of the game. It could have been her wide and kind eyes, enthusiastic nature, or just genuine personality, but Charles was letting his guard down around her. With only a few gestures from Rebecca, Charles was giving in to his more childish impulses. ‘The best babysitter is an understatement with this one. Hopefully this will just keep going.’ Suddenly, however, Charles stopped halfway through his impersonation of an evil henchman. “Charles, are you okay?” Rebecca asked, now wearing a worried expression from her side of the board. Charles blushed but then relented, still holding his green game piece. “I have to… have to…” He started squirming in his spot. “Oh… Honey, do you need to go to the bathroom?” Charles hesitated for a moment, but then nodded his head. “Alright, come with me.” Both of them got up, but before Charles was able to protest, Rebecca grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the bathroom, both dropping their game pieces on the board. A minute later I could hear Charles using the small potty that Monica had set up for him designed for potty training Littles. The item was a rarity, though I suspected it was meant to give Littles just enough hope for them to give in to a childish gesture without breaking completely. It felt strange, but Charles had brought me in there this morning with him. Seeing your pal use the bathroom isn’t my idea of a good time, but I stuck to my word of staying with Charles no matter what. Like then, the potty let out a small musical tune to announce that he had now used it. “All done?” Rebecca echoed from the bathroom. “Yep… well, I think?” “Hmmm…” I heard some shuffling from my place back in the living room, but Rebecca then spoke up again. “You seem to be done… and you did make it on time, which I’m very proud of you for doing.” There was a pause. “Well… I think we can be done for now.” I heard some grunts and tiny movements, before Rebecca noted, “Just tell me if you need to go again, okay, Charles?” “Okay!” A few more bits of shuffling around, a thirty second flow of water, and Charles bounded back to the game. His t-shirt was now tucked into his waistband, which I found odd, but at least he seemed happy and had made it. If he had any remaining guard around Rebecca, I couldn’t see it. For all her honesty and openness with Charles, it was almost like she had enchanted the Little I had come to know and care for. I wished Monica could see how happy he was now. Maybe she would be satisfied with his progress and stop… maybe. They played ‘Sugar State’ until the sun had set, had a quick bite to eat, and now Charles was sitting on the couch and watching an animated T.V. show with me tightly by his side. I knew it was one of the ones without any hypnotics, but it had been another change that had slowly creeped into his life. When I first arrived, movies and T.V. shows were strictly sports, or a violent action or comedic action piece. Now, he was watching things designed for all ages. Not a big leap for sure, as even Bigs would watch the shows, but it was still something else that had changed. There was no mix anymore. Only things meant to be watched by everyone and not just the adults. Nearby, Rebecca was quietly reading a book, and she would occasionally glance over at Charles and I watching our show about superhero dogs. He didn’t notice, but I did like with Monica. I couldn’t tell if he was too ensconced in the program or if sleep was catching up with him at that point though. Regardless, before the end of the next thirty-minute show, his eye lids were drooping and fluttering heavily with each breath he took. Rebecca noticed it as well. “Looks like someone’s tired, huh?” In his depleted state, he made no motion. Rebecca took that as her cue and walked over, gently shaking him to try to get him to get ready for bed. “Wow… someone’s a bit out of it, huh? And…” She leaned casually more forward and felt his crotch, which I now just noticed as slightly puffier and seemed to be almost damp looking through his black shorts. “I suspected as much. Someone’s had a bit of an accident.” Charles shifted only momentarily. His regression was coming along, and pull-up checks were no longer considered taboo, particularly in his sleep deprived state. “Alright, come on you.” Rebecca leaned over and wrapped her arms around Charles and picked him up without much effort, being careful to avoid the wet spot on some of the parts on his shorts. His limp form hung deftly from her body, and unfortunately for me, his limbs weren’t strong or awake enough to keep me close. I fell back down on the couch, one person too focused on her charge and the other being too tired to notice. Rebecca clambered up the stairs with Charles in her arms. I wanted to shout out that I was needed for bedtime, but it wasn’t my place. It could only be used in emergency situations, and this wouldn’t qualify by a long shot. From down in the living room, I could hear several paces and a few creaks and groans of the floor joists above, but Charles didn’t make a single sound. At last, Rebecca walked back downstairs. She went into the kitchen and moments later came back with a steaming mug of something smelling delicious. As she passed the couch where I was, she finally saw me. “Oh, rats. Hop, right?” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, look at me. I’m talking to the toys now.” She looked back directly at me. “Even if you are one of the smart toys, it’s not like you could respond back to me…” She glanced at the stairs and seemed to be questioning something in her mind. “You know… I just put him to bed. Tired little guy. Probably still exerting too much energy into being an adult or doesn’t have a normal routine yet. Gotta remember to ask for a bedtime or a routine of any kind when Monica gets back. At least he didn’t protest the diapers.” ‘What! Diapers?’ I knew they were coming, especially when Monica had bought a package in secret and placed some in the rear of his closet, but it was a major step down the regression ladder. Even if just at night, it wouldn’t be too long before they reached out and were used during the day as well. I couldn’t imagine what the morning would bring with Charles’ reaction. ‘I definitely need to be with him tonight for when he wakes up.’ Rebecca then shifted her attention back to me. “I guess until then, you can just stay with me, bud.” For the next two hours, Rebecca cradled me on her lap while we watched a few episodes of some sitcom about a group of Bigs in their 20s and their interactions in the world and with Littles. The endings never boded well for the Littles but there were some moments I could find the humor in along with Rebecca. She made sure to check on Charles between the episodes and I questioned why she didn’t just bring me to him then. I had to admit though that watching a show with Rebecca and turning my brain off for even a little bit was nice. Charles was sound asleep and nothing bad was going to happen him. It was peaceful. After about the fourth episode, however, the front door then opened, and Monica walked in, looking dour and exhausted. Rebecca immediately turned off the T.V. “So, Ms. Hubert… fun night?” Monica turned to Rebecca, and it looked like she had aged ten years. Blurred mascara was obvious, and both her eyes and the base of her nose were slightly red. “No, Rebecca. It wasn’t good.” “Oh no. I’m so sorry. Bad guy? Ted, was it?” “No, no. Ted was great. For the first three hours, and I even thought, ‘Gee, what a great guy. Maybe there’s something here.’” “But then?” “But then, he started talking about the future. I guess he thought it was going great as well, but then he said…” Monica faltered slightly and held onto the wall for support. “Go on, Ms. Hubert. I have an open ear… if you want.” Rebecca cocked her head to the right slightly and gave Monica an understanding and open look. “Thank you, Rebecca. I just need to say this out loud and then move on.” Monica steadied herself and continued. “He was talking about his job and that he wanted to get married. All good things! And then… then he said” She paused and sniffed, obviously trying to keep her composure still. “And then he said he wanted… kids. Not only Littles… kids.” “And then what?” “I couldn’t lie to a guy like that, so I told him the truth… I can’t… can’t have kids.” Monica stumbled forward and caught herself on the edge of the couch nearest to her. “Oh, Ms. Hubert. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” “Thank you, Rebecca. It’s tough. No one talks about it these days, but you always hear how it affects so many of us. Big Weekly said up to 60% can never have children. No matter what. Travel to a dimension where everyone is made of gears or is a literal piece of pizza, sure. But having a child of your own? Too advanced,” Monica quipped. “My sister is that way as well. She was devastated when she found out she couldn’t have kids herself.” “Yes, it’s terrible… but that’s why I got Charles… but…” “He’s not yours.” “Not in the way I want him, no. He’s so perfect, but I feel I’m going to miss so much with him. He’s already so… formed. I want a baby and all that goes with it… even the rough stuff.” “Well… there’s still time… with him I mean.” “But he’ll never be a newborn… maybe just toddler at best, considering his size and all.” “Maybe not newborn in the strictest sense proportion wise like others, but…” Rebecca shuffled a bit in her chair. “But what?” “Well, there’s always the harder options. You said you wanted rough, and this would certainly qualify. With Charles I mean.” Monica looked at her with confusion. “You may have not given birth to Charles but that doesn’t mean you can’t experience time with him as a newborn. Even with the laws these days…” ‘Oh no.’ And I was just thinking Rebecca was one of the good ones, but I guess every saint has their flaws as well. I know a grieving mother is a force of nature, but reverting a Little to a newborn was one of the most extreme measures that could be taken in this society. The government even used the whole process and some shrinking on the hardest and foulest of criminals. Once done, the Little, or criminal Big, would only have a 5% chance of ever maturing past the abilities and mental age of one and a 0.01% of anything beyond three years. I had seen it in an advertisement in the mall and I had just hoped any Little I would be with someday would never have to endure something like that. I held out hope that Monica would be disgusted, and maybe it was the tears, but I swear I could see a twinkle in her eyes. “Yes… I’ve heard of that, but… I just don’t know.” From there, the conversation turned to Charles and his behavior for the night. Monica unfortunately responded well to the diapers being used, which saddened but didn’t surprise me. It was nothing but praise beyond anything else, so future visits from Rebecca now seemed a guarantee. Both said their goodbyes and Rebecca left the house. Monica then parked herself in the single armchair that Rebecca had just sat in and peeled her heels off, her makeup still disheveled in several places from her ruinous date. It was almost enough for me to feel bad for her. Big fertility was a growing issue that even the Little population couldn’t fix. Her depressed state gave me a flash of an idea though. I had a burning desire to use my messaging on her more and more each day that passed, but no. ‘Bad idea, Hop.’ I had heard the rumors. Every toy had. Some toy tried it out years ago when the messaging first came out and the Big had only been lightly regressed. An investigation ensued and the Big was restored to normal, having suffered only reversible side effects. Next, the Little was regressed anyway to a one-year-old mentally and physically, and the toy’s entre line was scrapped and incinerated. Charles was worth a lot and right at the tipping point of permanence in some form, but it couldn’t be justified at that high of a cost. Monica then spotted me on the couch where Rebecca had placed me when the front door had opened. She appeared puzzled at my presence but resumed her distressed state shortly after. “Newborn, Hop… I just…” She looked at me with her moist eyes. They were filled with a curiosity but also a deep sadness. “I just don’t know. Charles is so great, but what if I want more? Do I dare give up who he is just to suit my own needs? I can’t have children and Littles are in such short supply after all the new laws they passed. I know they protect Littles in a lot of ways but darn it all if they leave the rest of us lacking these days. It's officially easier to go to another planet in this society than own a Little to your specifications! I just know there’s already a Little out there who’s been fully regressed and needs a loving home. That could be me, but oh, those laws! One new Little per Big every ten years. Ah!” Monica anguished and cursed out loud. Monica then slumped and pressed my form into her chest. “What should I do, Hop? I know you’ve been working hard with Charles and it’s great, but he won’t even hug me right now. I’m not his true mommy in any sense of that word and I feel he would try and escape still if I ever gave him the opportunity.” She paused and I could feel tears splash on the top of the fur on my head. “Newborn…” she parsed out as if a wish to the universe. ‘Not good.’ I dreaded what was to come. Rebecca had planted a seed that I didn’t know how far would take root. I truly felt bad for Monica and her inability to have children. It made her possession of a Little more justifiable in my opinion, but a newborn status for a Little was basically death for their mind. Most individuals knowing they would undergo the transformation, begged for death instead, which is why so many had been regressed suddenly or subtly recently. Hence my line. By the time at least the Little realized what was happening, it was too late. For the Bigs subjected to the procedures, I honestly thought the waiting part was the true punishment. It was unimaginable to think what was going through their heads. An entire life about to be reset and never turned back on. The whole thing seemed like the colors of toys like me. Old toys were pink or blue 90% of the time at one point. Natural coloring was rare and abnormal coloring was out of the question. Now, a toy could literally be any color of the rainbow if custom made. Even the store-bought toys today had at least six different coloring options. Newborns versus the rest of the Littles were like those colors. Newborns had few options, few emotional states, and even fewer ways of communication of thought like those early color choices. Even Littles on the younger end of the spectrum could seem like geniuses compared to the newborn Littles. The older Littles just had so much more joy and potential in their lives. They could be molded into whatever a Big wanted like the newer colors. Dancer, musician, artist, mechanical helper… Anything! But darn it all, a newborn was just a newborn with few exceptions. It was a frightening thought, and I could only cross my ears and paws in hope that this was just a passing notion for Monica as she still held me tight. Only time would tell. 5 2 Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted March 2, 2023 Author Share Posted March 2, 2023 Chapter 8: Are You My Friend? I was sitting against the bumper rails in Charles’ room as he was taking his afternoon nap, trying to figure out what Monica had planned for later today. She was in an unusually good mood as compared to the one she had been in since her less than stellar date, but I couldn't think for the life of me what was different. Charles didn't know either but gave in to her bribery, a surprise planned for afterward, to go down for a longer nap earlier. It was a small concession today, but I knew longer naps would become more commonplace like everything else had that had also once been a small concession. After Charles had nearly rolled out of bed one day, Monica had placed small bumper railings on his bed. They only extended from about his neck to his waistline on the bed, but they were likely just the beginning. Charles no longer had a need to get up in the middle of the night to use the restroom, as while he had yet to have a messy accident, he no longer was entirely phased or gave an effort to go pee and thus had woken up in a wet diaper every morning since the night with Rebecca. Charles had become a full-time bedwetter, but that was expected of almost every Little. I knew soon that Monica would come in and change Charles’ wet nighttime diaper for his unfortunate daytime one. It happened two days ago and there was a major meltdown from Charles before going to daycare. Monica handled it like any mother and soothed his emotions before adding the further protection in the form of a relatively thin daytime diaper. Once the change was over, Monica gave him a hug. Charles couldn't see it, but I could from my position on the couch as her face contorted into one of both frustration and happiness. We both knew that Charles was coming along in his own way, but his tantrum over being placed in a daytime diaper still showed that he was far from fully regressed. To Charles’s dismay, the entire daycare knew of his situation, but it was to be expected in some horribly resigned fate type of way. Charles received only comfort from the friend group, but at morning playtime outside, Cassie had once again warned me over slowing his regression. Victor and Sarge were sitting nearby and simply nodded their heads in agreement. I knew what they were saying was right, but Monica had told me something surprising the other day: she was considering making Charles younger than a toddler. After Rebecca, I knew it could be coming, but it was still a shock to hear confirmed out loud. I knew my programming could do it, but I also knew Charles would be lucky to stay in even the Meadows Room afterward. I doubted Monica wanted a newborn truly, but her curiosity seemed too genuine for Charles to be any semblance of his former self once she got close to the level that she wanted. Charles shifted in the bed, and I took that as my cue to once again enter into his arms. I was immediately snuggled, and I relished in the relative calmness of the moment. To say I was nervous over Monica’s surprise was an understatement. But for now, only the hug mattered. Yawn. “Hey there, Hop,” Charles said, wiping the sleep from his eyes with the hand not wrapped lovingly around my torso. “Another glorious afternoon, wet and waiting for mom… Monica.” I winced internally. I knew it was coming but Charles had begun to slip more and had begun starting to call Monica ‘mommy’ lately. It never fully popped out, but it was getting harder for him to cover it up now. Monica never made a comment but always got a wistful look in her eye when he said it. For his part, Charles would only cringe and squeeze me tighter, like he did now. “Stupid, stupid words.” Charles shifted his free hand and rustled around with his diaper. “Nope. No leaks. Score one for the big guys, Hop!” He held up my paw and high-fived it a bit too enthusiastically for something so minor to anyone but a regressing Little. Additionally, treating me as if I was an actual person and more than a toy had also started to bleed into our lives, and honestly, it was the one change I took in stride. It made me feel more… alive. Even more alive than when I was actually talking out loud to any other toy. The door then opened and the room flooded with light as a switch was flipped on. “Afternoon, sweetie. Did you have a nice nap?” Charles nodded his head enthusiastically. “Yep! Sure did.” “And how’s that diaper doing, huh?” Charles momentarily blushed, but admitted, “Wet. No leaks though!” “I’m so proud! Now, let’s get you changed. I have a surprise for you.” Monica spread a changing pad underneath Charles and pulled his bottoms off before going to work on his wet diaper. “It must be good! You get the same look you always do, and almost even a bounce in your step. Just like with Hop or when you treated me to the arcade last week.” Charles squirmed at the feeling of the air hitting his damp skin as Monica opened the diaper. “I do?” Monica grabbed some wipes and started cleaning Charles. The process was becoming routine all too quickly. Charles nodded. “Yep. So, what is it this time? Another pair of shortalls? A party? Another sippy cup? A trip to the playground with Georgie?” As much as I wanted those questions to be sarcastic, Monica had been slowly introducing younger items and events into Charles’ everyday life. The crescent moon nightlight had been added after Charles had a nightmare one night. He hated it at first, but now called him ‘Sandy,’ apparently from some guy known as the ‘Sandman’ back in his dimension. His old world always seemed like such a weird place. Regardless, the clothing had also been slowly added into his wardrobe ever since he started wearing pull-ups. Cartoon and superhero themed shirts were still there but were now often paired with pants and shortalls with snaps in them for easy changes. The first daytime diaper had brought on the first onesie as well, though gratefully is was always worn with the bottom half covered up. Each item had been a surprise and was met with immediate anger or frustration from Charles. A few days later though and he took comfort in their soft material, convenience, or supportive nature. It was nearly clockwork at this point and small bits that had once made up Charles’ life were being rapidly replaced. Monica finished the last of the tapes on the new thinner diaper and wrestled his elastic shorts back up. I had been cuddled the entire time and was brought along with both of them downstairs. Charles took a seat on the couch and began to squirm and bounce around the way one would expect of a child about to receive a gift or a punishment. He then covered his eyes, as instructed by Monica, in dreaded anticipation of what was to come more than anything else. Most of the recent surprises tended to not be something he would want at the time. Despite his reservation, he contorted in a way to cutely cover my eyes as well, so I could only hear footsteps walk back in. I was his buddy now and he was trying to protect me as much as I protected him. It was a nice feeling, but knowing his trajectory, I feared a highchair or baby bottle would be the surprise Monica was thumping into the room with now. “Okay. Open them.” Charles released both our sights at once and we saw a small rectangular box. A red bow was affixed to the top of it, but few markings were shown on the outside otherwise. Charles and I stared at the gift as if it was a bomb that would explode upon opening the lid. “What are you waiting for? Open it.” Monica giggled in her excitement and at Charles’ hesitation. Charles reached out hesitantly and clutched it in his arms. From his strained expression, the box must have been heavy, and my mind reeled with the possibilities. Finally, Charles began to open the top of the box. After nearly dropping it, he set it back in front of him just in time for the sides to release and fall away. In its place, stood a toy dog. “Do you like it?” Monica asked, trying to read Charles’ expression. “Yeah, but… what is it?” “It’s a dog.” Charles gave her an annoyed look. He knew that it was a dog and Monica picked up on his actual question. “Oh, right. It’s a toy for you. Hot off the line as well! Look at it more closely.” Charles did and his eyes grew wide. I did as well, and I realized that it was the 3D version of the cartoon dog that was the star of one of his favorite programs about superhero dogs. It worked with other super dogs and possessed the power of super speed. “Oh my gosh! You got me Dash! This is so cool.” “I’m glad you like him but watch this. Dash, the villain is getting away,” Monica commanded firmly. Suddenly, the toy sprang to life. “Never fear! I’ll get him!” The dog’s eyes lit up in yellow and it spoke in a deep voice that sounded exactly like it did on the show. “Oh, wow! This is so great. Thank, thank you, thank you!” To my shock, I was left on the couch as Charles quickly got up and bounded over to Monica with the dog still attached to its base and then gave her a big hug. “Aww. You’re welcome, sweetie.” Monica returned the hug and looked happier than I had seen her in weeks. All seemed good right now. Charles had a new toy, I had a new friend, and Monica was being embraced by Charles without hesitation. The only thing was that Monica had desired Charles to be regressed further. While she had already reaped some benefits with this toy, I doubted Monica would have been so gleeful today for only a slight chance of being hugged. There was definitely something more to this toy. “Any thoughts of what to name him?” “Dash! Duh.” Charles didn’t hesitate for a second and talked like Monica had just asked a stupid question. It was a first-tier name for maturity, but the way Charles had acted and had listed off the name in such a quick manner, showed that Charles couldn’t truly be labeled as the top tier category for maturity. Not anymore. “Here, sweetie. Let me help you.” Charles’ coordination and strength had been more stunted lately as the signals from his brain to his muscles were starting to be more jumbled from my messaging. Getting more help from Bigs to open things was becoming part of his everyday routine now. For her part, Monica was able to quickly remove the clasps holding Dash into place and then handed Charles a small booklet along with the freed toy. “These are all the commands he will directly respond to right now. I think we can add more in later, but these are Dash’s top phrases.” “That’s super neat!” Charles took the booklet and Dash from Monica and eyed the tiny manual with glee while back on the couch next to me. “Thank you!” “You’re welcome, honey.” Charles looked at the booklet, his ability to read still only marginally affected at this point. “Look, Hop! We have a new friend. Oh, man. I can’t wait to try out… let’s see. Dash! The building is on fire. We need help to extin… ext…” Monica looked at Charles to see what was happening. Charles was squinting at the booklet and turning it in different directions as if he couldn’t see it properly. He could, but his reading comprehension difficulties were starting to show more, particularly when his emotion were in flux. “Let me see…” Monica leaned over and looked at the word Charles was having trouble with. “Extinguish.” “Oh… right.” Charles looked embarrassed but the new toy beckoned him more and pulled him out of the minor inconvenience of understanding a single word. “Dash! The building is on fire. We need help to extinguish the flames.” “Stand back! I’ll bring the water from the hydrant and have this blaze out in no time,” Dash commanded again, his eyes lighting up once more. “Oh yeah, buddy. We’ll fight the fire… fire… water…” Monica had walked away to the kitchen but then quickly walked back in when Charles had stopped talking. “Charles?” We both looked at him with worry, mine of course being more subtle and hidden from her view. “Everything okay?” Charles was looking down at his crotch with fearful and somewhat moistening eyes. He looked up and said sorrowfully, “I had an accident, Mo… Monica.” “Oh. That’s okay, sugar. Let’s get you upstairs and changed.” Monica was obviously relieved it wasn’t something more devastating and guided Charles back up the stairs. He seemed relieved when she had responded so calmly. It made me worried over his near lack of a reaction to wetting his diaper so near to his last change, but Dash concerned me more at the moment. Accidents were nothing new or even fixable to a regressing Little. I stood up and walked over to the new toy. He was built like an Albion Shephard, what Charles had originally called a German Shephard, and had brown fur like most of his species, but also a series of red lightning bolts that had been grafted over and into his fur. “Hey there, Dash. Can you hear me?” “Halt citizen. Who goes there? Friend or foe?” His eyes burned with a yellow glow as he turned to me and bared his teeth. “Oh. Uh… friend! Absolutely friend. Are you my friend?” Dash’s eyes stopped glowing yellow. “Yes. I can be your friend eater of carrots.” ‘Eater of carrots? Could be worse.’ “Yeah. Good, good. I’m Hopper, but most people call me Hop. Good to meet you, Dash.” I extended my paw, and he reciprocated his own as we shook. “So, are you…” “We can be friends, Hop, but I cannot interact with substandard toys while my charge is awake.” “Substandard?” ‘So much for full-on friendly. Geesh.’ “I’m top of the line.” “All toys not manufactured by Little Diamonds Inc. are now to be considered substandard. You are good, but I am better. My line will soon replace all you other toys.” “Replace?” “Replace. My line will regress every Little to a given state and then move on. We are the future.” “Well, Charles is already regressing. Pretty quickly now too, so I think he’s good on that end. He seems to love you though, so that’s good.” “Charles… he does show signs of regression, but I would not be here if you had done your job fully, would I not?” Dash’s words hit me hard. Cassie, Victor, and Sarge had been right. All the toys had been right. Monica was tired over Charles’ lack of regression, and I had been effectively replaced in my tasks. Littles hardly ever had more than one toy while being regressed. A second toy either meant the old one would be replaced soon, was defective and only kept around for sentimental reasons, or the Little had finished regressing. All those options sounded bleak now and bad news for the original toy of the house like me. “You have gone native. It is common for previous models to be emotionally attached early on and this was found to be a defect in regression therapies. With increases in infertility, the Little population and the happiness of Bigs is the priority.” “Look, Dash. I was regressing him. I just didn’t want him to be scared by going too quickly. That’s all.” “That is a fault of substandard lines. The emotions of a Little are the last priority of ours and don’t matter, so long as the Little reaches their desired and appropriate Little age.” “Doesn’t matter? Look here, you…” “Motion detected.” Dash went back to his calm posture where he had been left. I heard the creaking of the stairs and went back to my own position. ‘Stupid futuristic dog…’ Monica and Charles then joined us, and a faint cloud and whiff of baby powder followed Charles around as he moved and nearly bounced toward us. As Charles praised and held Dash aloft, I was worried over what changes such a toy would bring to my friend. I regressed him due to my protocols, but keeping Charles happy was still a top priority… not the last one. Nothing could be further from the truth for Dash it seemed like however. The thought was put on hold for the rest of the day though. Dash and I were equally played with, and Charles appeared to delight in pretending I was the villain. It was a twist of irony between Dash and I, given what I had just heard, but Charles couldn’t have known that. I played along until dinner, afterward, and then waited in silence for Charles to return from his bath by Monica, another change that had occurred when she had noticed dirt behind his ear one night after taking a shower himself. Freshly diapered, in his pajamas, and then tucked into his superhero themed covers, Monica left a sippy cup of juice with Charles, turned off the light, and quietly left the room. Sandy shone pleasantly from his shelf above and the room was basked with a calming warm light and several twinkling stars projected above. Charles stared at them while finishing his juice and cuddling both Dash and me. After a long day and such a calming environment, Charles was soon asleep. “Is he out?” Sandy whispered from his perch, his warm light and twinkling stars still lighting the room ever so subtly. “He’s out.” I saw Dash was already out of Charles’ arms and sitting on his hind legs with his eyes closed. I wondered if he had extra sensors than me and had been able to leave Charles earlier than I could by reading his vitals. I was still testing out his responses to my movements, but the extra sensors would explain how he knew Charles was coming down the stairs before I had heard a single creak. “Yes! Another night accomplished. Nothin’ but sleep, my friend.” Sandy’s form wiggled around, and the stars bounced slightly on the ceiling. “Hey, who’s the new fella?” Dash didn’t respond. “He’s Dash… he’s…” I couldn’t think of the right words to describe him with Dash possibly listening in. “…something.” “Sounds mysterious. Is he meditating?” “I’m…” “Will you two be quiet?” Dash barked out, a faint hint of yellow escaping from his nearly sealed eyes. “It’s no wonder Charles is where he’s at and I was brought in by Monica.” “It’s called being friendly,” I touted back. “Might try it some time.” “It’s called not doing your job or fulfilling your purpose.” He readjusted himself from the tense posture he had hunched into while berating Sandy and I and went back into his meditative pose. “But you don’t need to worry about that anymore. I’ve got it.” “Got what? Charles’ regression? I’ve got it. Charles is regressing. Monica may not be happy with the pace, but…” “I’m going to stop you right there.” Dash remained in his seated position with his eyes still closed. “I’ve got this session. It will be over in less than five seconds.” ‘That didn’t sound good.’ “What wi…?” Bruuum! A pulse went out from Dash and even shook the baby powder housed on a nearby dresser. It seemed to echo around the room, and despite not having actual eardrums, I felt the need to pop my ears after the noise had gone away fully. My glance quickly shot to Charles, but if he had actually heard anything on a conscious level, he made no movement to indicate as such. “What the heck did you just do?” “As I said,” Dash said opening his eyes, smugly getting up, and pawing around the bed and to Charles’ lower midsection, “doing your job for you. Just better.” He let out an evil grin and his eyes quickly flashed a sickly yellow which blinked out over Charles’ sleeping form. “But what…?” Pfft! I looked at Charles’ sleeping form where the sound had just come from. He shifted and looked uncomfortable, his legs contorting into different positions. He almost looked like he was going to be sick, but he only moved around more. “Was that?” Sandy asked, in the same disbelief as me from above. “Yeah, buddy. Charles just farted.” He had always been a bit of a restless sleeper and most living creatures farted at one time or another in their sleep, but this was something more. It hadn’t just been a bit of gas that had built up from dinner. It had been loud, smelly, and almost wet sounding. I immediately turned to Dash who was still grinning by Charles’ midsection. “You did that to him, didn’t you?” “Oh, I did a lot more than that…” Dash paused and looked at Charles’ face, still grimacing in the soft warm lighting that Sandy was still outpouring. In a second, Charles tensed as if experiencing an intense pain, but then relaxed and almost seemed relieved for a moment. “Ah, there we go…” I was confused “There we…?” Pfft. Braaap! Toot! Before I could finish my thought, another wet sound was made, followed by a more distinctly base tone, and then ended by a punctuated fart. ‘No. Not Charles. Not this early. He’s not ready yet.’ “Did he just?” “Yep.” Dash smiled widely and let out another yellow flash in his eyes. “Check it out for yourself if you don’t believe me.” I didn’t. I couldn’t. Charles had never done something like this before. ‘Please be wrong. Please be wrong. Please be wrong!’ I lifted the covers up with my paw, and my ears immediately drooped in sadness. A more pronounced bulge now lay in the seat of Charles’ nighttime diaper as he laid on his stomach and was quickly followed by an escaping smell. “Well?” Sandy asked nervously. “Yeah. Dash did it. Charles just messed himself…” I held the covers aloft for another moment, which I suppose let in a breeze that Charles reacted to and turned away from. The discoloration and fullness of the seat of his diaper couldn’t be denied or what it all had truly meant. An accident was the same no matter what to an outsider, but for the observer watching a regression, the size of the accident meant a great deal. For wetting, dribbles could be expected within a week of mild hypnosis or drug usage, but gushing streams at once, meant no muscular control whatsoever in a single moment. The same went with messy accidents as well, and this was a large accident for sure. Exceptions could be made for sick Littles, but everyone knew that Charles wasn’t sick, including Monica when she would see everything that happened with him tonight in the morning. “You monster…” I croaked out shakily. “Call me that all you wish carrot boy, but I call the shots around here now. I’m the superior toy and I’m going to do my job to whatever end Monica wants.” I was so shocked by his callousness that I didn’t respond back as he slunk off to rest in Charles’ arms. “Oh, and one more thing. Remember this and don’t you forget it. If you had done your job correctly the first time, I wouldn’t be here. Think of that the next time you want to throw labels around.” With that, he nestled into Charles arms and went to sleep. I wanted to squeeze the life out of this futuristic low life of a toy. It was hard to even call him a toy in the same category as any other that I had ever met here. He was right though, and I was to blame for his arrival, but Dash could have made a choice not to go full force on the first night. I dreaded how Charles would react to this when he woke up. It would be a major blow to a fragile Little. Dash didn’t see it, but I saw the pain Charles had felt in the moment up to the accident. And there was no way he was seeing the suffering and whimpering that Charles was exhibiting right now. His unconscious mind was processing what his conscious mind would have to process in the morning itself and it was clearly in distress. All total, he came off like a wounded lost puppy out in the rain. I had my priorities and my revenge on Dash could wait. Charles needed me desperately tonight, and from how Dash was speaking, he would need me now more than ever in the days to come. 5 2 Link to comment
Guilend Posted March 3, 2023 Share Posted March 3, 2023 Wow. That was something. I am definitely not team Dash. I'm on Hops side. Plus that pulse that Dash gave off, while it probably wouldn't go through thick walls or that far into adjoined rooms, it definitely would in smaller, cheaply made homes. Hope no one is sleeping right next to the wall when one of those goes off lol. Imagine a mother of a new Little waking up with a mess in her panties lol. I think Hop needs to dismantle Dash ASAP. I'll bring a screwdriver or a hammer. 1 Link to comment
LostBBoyBear Posted March 3, 2023 Author Share Posted March 3, 2023 Hey everyone, this chapter marks over the halfway point in the story. I hope you all are enjoying it, and I just want to thank you for your likes and comments. Here is the next chapter. Chapter 9: New Toy, New Feelings Times were changing. That first night with Dash was just the beginning for everyone in this household. Monica had embraced the changes with Charles and insisted he hold her hand whenever they leave the house or even go upstairs now. Dash was the hot new toy and was constantly by Charles’ side. At first, I thought I was being replaced for the newer model, but I wasn’t too sure anymore after this morning. After Charles was being fed in his new highchair by Monica, he gave Dash a look of what I could only describe as hatred. I realized that if Dash could make Charles mess himself with only one pulse, why not influence how much he likes him as a toy? I suspected the effect was only temporary and had to reinforced, hence the glare at breakfast when they were separated. For me, my position had changed only slightly, at least in my relationship with Charles. Despite Dash accompanying Charles everywhere, I was always locked into the other arm. It made for some awkward times when Charles was trying to do something, but he just accepted getting more help from others. By today on Monday, it was needed with or without his arms full of his two toys. Stemming from Dash’s arrival and all the associated negatives, I had begun to desperately look for Charles to show a genuine acceptance of his new life as a Little. Once he admitted that he wanted to stay here and forfeit any other life back in his dimension, or even as an adult, my protocols of protection and ensuring that he was safe would kick in and further regression wouldn’t be needed anymore. Monica could be nudged just enough for her to be satisfied as well. Thus, I suspected that Dash would be gone within the hour. Until then however, I just had to share my time with his odious form and wait. As for Charles, the act of messing himself almost seemed like a trigger. Within three days, Charles never had another opportunity to use the light-up potty and it was donated to another Little’s household yesterday. Though Charles was still tightly holding us as usual on the way to daycare now, during other times, he had adopted a more vacant look and an even more enhanced child-like behavior during his playtime. Further, if the small splatter marks still present on his shirt where his bib didn’t catch any falling food were any indication, Charles’ coordination had deteriorated as well. His Little side was becoming a more dominating and unmistakable part of who he was. To me though, the most damning bit was the thumb sucking. Being in diapers or a lack of coordination were physical things that had manifested through his mind with the nightly messaging from now Dash and I, but even adults could experience similar problems in the right, or wrong, circumstances. Thumb sucking for comfort or even passivity however was a sign of something deeper. Like playing with me freely, slipping and almost calling Monica ‘mommy,’ or now his child-like demeanor occasionally showed what was starting to occur with his mental and even emotional faculties. The Charles of two weeks ago would have reacted to further regression with yelling or frustration, but the Charles of today would just take a hit of his thumb or pull Dash and I in tighter to get some comfort. As we pulled up to the daycare and Monica helped all three of us out of our car seat, I couldn’t help but wonder if these new changes would be enough to send Charles and the larger friend group to the Meadow Room. Surely, Charles had regressed enough to warrant the pendulum to swing in that direction for them. The mommies had been buzzing about it at our playdate last Wednesday, and I knew sadly that Charles would definitively now be in the lower half of the group when he saw them again. The Meadow Room only seemed fitting now. “Hi there,” Mrs. Gillies bubbled up from behind the counter, beaming with her smock-covered floral shirt. Her head cocked to one side when seeing Charles and I couldn’t blame her. He had last been here on Thursday, before Dash, and was an alert and only mildly regressed individual. Now, after only a few days away, Charles held two toys tightly, wore shortalls that bulged prominently around the crotch, and bore an expression of pure wonderment as he looked on at the rainbows and other gayly painted objects in the lobby of the building. Paintings that used to annoy or even unnerve the formerly unregressed Little were now nearly hypnotic to the poor Little. “My, Charles. You seem… er… happy.” Charles broke his gaze from the paintings, grinned widely, and then practically chirped, “I sure am Mrs. Gillies!” I could have sworn I saw her grimace. She jerked her head in a quick motion to get Monica to join her privately for a chat. Though Charles wasn’t at all interested in their conversation as he now traced one of the bright rainbows on the wall, I could still hear them clearly myself. “What did you do, Monica? This is a place of only subtle regression. Is that boy’s brain even still in one piece?” “Yes, yes, Patty. See the dog?” Mrs. Gillies nodded. “He’s the latest in toys. Efficient, non-damaging, and guaranteed to regress a Little. Hop was great, but it would have taken another two weeks for Charles to get even halfway to this point at that rate. Dash does the exact same stuff. Just a smaller timeline.” “That may be so, but we have these protocols in place for a reason. You don’t want Charles to end up like…” Mrs. Gillies paused and leaned over to view us better. Her voice immediately perked back up when she saw Charles starring at both of them. A wall could only hold the attention of a Little for so long. “Sweetie? Why don’t you go inside and meet your friends? I’m sure they’ll want to see you.” “Okay!” Charles exclaimed, purely unphased by what the two women had been talking about previously, even if h had only listened to the last part of it. He then neared Monica and reached out and hugged her around her thighs in a big squeeze. “Bye, Mon’!” It took everyone by surprise, but as with many of the recent changes, Monica only took it in stride. I remembered when Charles had barely acknowledged her presence leaving him alone with Rebecca. That was less than two weeks ago. “I’ll be back, honey. Like always…” “Yep! See you later Mo… nica,” Charles replied awkwardly. I knew it was another slipup from him almost calling her ‘mommy,’ and at this point, it was just par for the course. Charles let go of her legs and skipped merrily down the hallway and into the Canopy Room. I had assumed today would be the Meadow Room, but I guessed that was still for another day. The ‘Birds’ were extra rambunctious today, but many stopped dead when they saw Charles. For his part, he either didn’t care or didn’t register when anyone gawked at his new appearance. Clothing or diapers be damned. It was just another day at daycare to him. “Hey… buddy…” Jane said, scanning the new Charles before her. “New… toy?” “Oh, yeah!” He shoved Dash into the middle of the group, his face beaming with the pride one would reserve for a new car or getting am award. “This is Dash. Like the T.V. show! He speaks and lights up! It’s sooo cool.” The group stared at him for a second, but Ian just grinned over his new likeminded compatriot. I couldn’t figure out Georgie, but Jane, for all her maturity, now seemed more like an outsider, rather than just another part of the previously well-balanced group. Before, the group had a good mix of those regressed and those less so. The regressed worked to free the unregressed, and the unregressed kept the regressed more grounded. Now, Charles was firmly on the regressed side of things. Seeing Jane’s pull-up peak out slightly from the waistband or her flowing pink tutu showed her difference plainly, and after looking at the three around her, I wondered how long she would be in the minority of the group. Georgie, in his own fluctuating Little state suddenly piped up. “Okay, dude. What the actual bleep is going on with you?” Charles just stared back at him. “You were you, the real you, on Thursday and now…” Georgie gestured to Charles’ whole body. “I don’t know what to call this. Did you get fixed? Accidental drugs? What’s going on?” Charles’ smile faded and a look of recognition seemed to come back over him. He glanced down at his clothes in what could almost be described as disbelief. “I…” Ring! The moment was just that, and as soon as the bell rang, Charles perked up once more and forgot about what he was just doing. “Oh! Recess!” Charles got up and bounded for the door. Ian quickly ran after him, and George and Jane only walked slowly out the door. If Dash hadn’t shown up, Charles would be right there along with the two instead of running out to enjoy the playground and general free time. Georgie had once seemed so babyish, but now even he was above Charles. ‘Damn you, Dash.’ Like I had come to expect, the toys quickly woke up and circled around Dash. He was the new celebrity now and he obviously enjoyed the attention. Using the distraction, I slipped away quietly from the group and headed over to the slide, collapsing down at its base with a large sigh. A few moments later, I could hear a few familiar footsteps approach. “Seems you’re second banana now, huh?” Victor joked. “Geesh man. You may be a Victor now but that’s just a bad pun coming from a gorilla.” I gave him a half-hearted smile. Dash was too much of a concern for me to find any further amusement in the joke. Victor understood, smiled back, and placed his hand caringly on my shoulder. “They’re all saying Dash is just the greatest,” Sarge mockingly said. His tone was palpable, and I hoped they all saw past his outer sleek persona. “You all don’t think he’s great either?” “Hop, please,” Victor said, removing his hand. “It doesn’t take a genius to see the difference in Charles. One new thing comes into his life, and Charles gets a slew of new regression signs? Call me crazy, but there’s probably some connection. Am I right?” I nodded. “Figured... plus, he’s so full of himself. I’m surprised his head doesn’t explode from that large ego.” “You all have seen him for less than 10 minutes.” I looked over at him enjoying the attention he was now getting. “Imagine being with the guy for three full days on top of everything else.” The three laughed at Dash’s expense, but I was feeling like I had some decent allies around here now. “Just remember you’ll always have a place here if you need it,” Cassie soothed. ‘Perfect. I’m already being considered a has-been toy. I can’t let Charles be left alone with… him.’ Cassie seemed to note my changed demeanor to the prospect of staying here as a resident and leaving Charles. “It’s not so bad, Hop. Really. I know we all seem like the charity cases and outcasts nobody wanted, but this is really the second best place for a toy.” “Speak for yourself,” Victor growled. He was obviously still uncomfortable being a toy here. “Now, Victor. You know as well as I do how quickly things can change around here. One minute you’re the discarded toy, and the next, you’re the world to another Little while they’re here.” “Hmphhh.” Victor still didn’t seem convinced, and I couldn’t blame him in his condition. I did know most Littles were pretty accommodating with their toys, but I could see bitterness setting in quickly under the wrong circumstances in this world. “Don’t mind him,” Sarge interjected, “Cassie may be the optimist around here sometimes, but once you move past being given away, it’s not so bad. You’ve seen it. Jimmy and I may not have large scale wars like I did with Timmy, but he claimed me when I was at my lowest. He didn’t know that of course, but we’re the best of buds now every time he comes in. It’s not the same, but it sure beat the dump.” Just then, Betty walked over to us after being in the group of excited toys over Dash’s arrival. “What do you want?” Victor asked predatorially. “Oh,” she said, obviously not expecting the hostility from Victor, despite his appearance, “I just wanted to come over and say hey.” From her uneasy expression, she could tell she was the odd one out in the group with her committed Little. “Geez, that Dash is such a tool.” The expressions and demeanor of the group immediately shifted as if Betty had flicked on a switch within them. “Glad we’re on the same page, Betty,” Cassie said, now appearing more amused. “I think I can speak for everyone and say that we thought because you were in that group, you were actually cozying up to that toy… if you could even call him that.” “Oh god, no.” Betty feigned offense as a joke and deftly touched her chest. “I would almost be hurt by that, but to be honest, I was a bit curious. Flashy new toy and all, but he just groans on and on about that ‘he’s the future.’ It’s obviously not a future anyone would want around here from us real toys.” “Couldn’t agree more,” Sarge said. “Yeah… and you saw Charles. Talk about ouch.” Cassie said sadly. “You don’t know the half of it…” I added dejectedly. “It’s almost as if he went under the knife. The old days and all…” Victor said glumly. I remembered that he was with Ian even before KH, and KH knew the time before the more restrained regression policies. ‘I wonder just how old Victor and Ian even are? Technology and longevity in this world could make their age almost anything.’ “And you Hop,” Betty said, placing her hand on my shoulder, “you said we didn’t even know half of it. It must have been terrible for you to watch all of this in person.” “Yeah… the first morning after what Dash did was rough. Full used diaper and all. Charles cried for so long, mine and Sandy’s heart just broke. Even after Monica put him in regular Littles diapers and cuddled with him for at least 30 minutes afterward, Charles was so despondent. Dash didn’t even care. It was a long day...” “How do you think he’s doing? Or is that a stupid question at this point?” Victor asked hesitantly. “There are no such things as stupid questions, Victor,” Cassie said gently. “Agreed,” I added, “but I’m just not sure. After that first morning, Charles just seemed to go deeper into all this. It felt nice to be played with so carefreely, but every few hours, he would just get the saddest look. Plus, he’s been crying himself to sleep every night now.” “That’s awful!” Betty exclaimed, placing her hands over her mouth in disbelief. “Yeah… it’s just too fast. I agreed with you previously that Charles needed to get to the point where he could stop regressing and accept all of this, but now… I just don’t know. Dash is so strong in almost every way, and look at me… I’m just all fluff.” “Any good commander knows it’s hard to argue with what you see and go forward, especially if you might lose, but they all have to ask themselves, ‘what’s the cost if you don’t?’” Sarge noted. “You were slow but understanding. Dash just seems like a wrecking ball to Charles. You can’t give up now. Even if defeat is likely. For Charles…” “Sarge is right,” Cassie said. “You need to stay strong for Charles. He needs your support. And beyond anything else, Dash is an older Little’s toy. After almost any type of regression, I’d bet any Little would love a fluffy bunny more than a stiff super dog. Right guys?” “Right,” the group said in unison. We all then came in for a group hug. Standing there amongst them, I knew they were right of course. Most Littles delved into the comfort and security of soft items when they regressed below a certain age. The flash and technology couldn’t cover up the hard frame used to construct a being like Dash. He was designed for his looks and his regression abilities, not his ability to comfort a Little in distress. It was a nice reminder by my friends, and I could feel a swell of pride and something maybe akin to hope in my chest over my longevity with my Little. I only hoped that Charles would regress enough to slake Monica’s desires and that it wouldn’t be too late by then for me to be there in any meaningful and conscious way for my Little still. 3 2 Link to comment
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