Springing Back

[snapcrackle]

The car ride to the Easter fair was tense, though Clara and James seemed oblivious to Eleanor’s simmering discomfort. Eleanor sat in the backseat, arms crossed, staring out the window as Clara chattered excitedly about the fair. Eleanor couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as she watched her sister and James exchange affectionate glances. Clara, younger by five years, already had everything Eleanor lacked: a loving husband, a cozy home, and a life that seemed to be moving forward. Eleanor, on the other hand, had little to celebrate—a dead-end job, a nearly empty social calendar, and a love life that had been dormant for years.

Eleanor’s friendships had dwindled over the years as her friends got married and started having kids. She had always preferred to focus on fun and her career, thinking they were ridiculous for giving up all their free time to spend it with babies. But now, she was largely alone on weekends, with no one to call or hang out with. That was the only reason she had agreed to go to this stupid, childish fair with her sister in the first place. She had nothing better to do.

“So, Ellie,” Clara said, turning in her seat to face her sister, “how’s work been? Still at that marketing firm?”

Eleanor forced a tight smile. “Yeah, still there. Same old, same old.”

Clara nodded sympathetically, though her tone was annoyingly cheerful. “Well, at least you’ve got stability, right? And hey, any new guys on the horizon?”

Eleanor’s jaw tightened. “No. Not really my priority right now.”

James chuckled awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ll find someone, Eleanor. You’re a catch.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes but said nothing. The conversation shifted to Clara and James’s plans for the future, and Eleanor’s discomfort grew as they casually mentioned they were trying for kids. Clara’s face lit up as she gushed about baby names and nursery themes, while James grinned proudly. Eleanor felt a knot of jealousy tighten in her chest. She forced a polite smile, but inside, she was seething. Why did Clara get to have it all while she was stuck in a life that felt like it was going nowhere?

When they arrived at the fair, Eleanor was relieved to escape the confines of the car. The park was bustling with activity, but something felt off. The first thing she noticed was the lack of children. Instead, the fair was filled with adults. Most acting normally. However, she noticed that some seemed to be dressed in more childish garb: women sun dresses that were a tad too short, men in shorts that seemed a bit too short, their polo shirts tucked tightly into them. She saw one woman across the parking lot walking somewhat awkwardly ahead of two older adults, seemingly her parents. She wore a pink shirt and yellow tights. Eleanor was rather far off, but the seat of the woman’s pants seemed off. It was almost puffy, and not they way you would get from a big ass.

“Isn’t this place great?” Clara said, oblivious to Eleanor’s discomfort and yanking her out of train of thought. “It’s so… whimsical!” Eleanor sighed at the childish exuberance of her sister. If she’s going to be like this all day, I am in for a long one… Eleanor muses judgmentally to herself.

Inside the fair, things were generally normal. Food stands scattered about, little picture opportunities put together here and there. People bustling to and fro in their best spring get ups. Basically, to Eleanor, it looked horrifically boring.

“This is… nice,” Eleanor said carefully, trying half-heartedly to mask her lack of enthusiasm.

Clara laughed. “Isn’t it fun? Just let loose, Ellie. You’re always so serious.”

Eleanor forced a smile, but her mind was still occupied by the woman in the parking lot. Even here in the fair, something about this place felt wrong, and she couldn’t shake the growing sense of dread.

As the three wandered deeper in to the fairground, Eleanor’s boredom worsened. She couldn’t help but be annoyed at the exaggerated excitement her sister and brother in law derived from every cheap egg painting stand and bunny statue.

The couple were now taking pictures of each other with a wooden cutout of the easter bunny, while Eleanor sat in languid boredom. She scanned the fairgrounds, her eyes narrowing at the odd lack of children, even this far into the event. Suddenly her attention was pulled to a scene across the way.

Eleanor noticed the commotion from a distance—a man, perhaps in his late thirties, was stomping his feet and wailing, his face red with frustration. Curiosity piqued, she broke away from Clara and James, weaving through the crowd to get a closer look. As she approached, she took in the man’s outfit: corduroy pants, an oxford shirt with little anchors sewn onto it, and a sweater vest adorned with tiny bunnies. At first glance, it seemed like a dapper, if slightly eccentric, ensemble.

But the longer she looked, the more unsettling it became. There was something off about it, as if a child’s Easter outfit had been blown up into adult proportions. The colors were too bright, the patterns too whimsical, and the fit just slightly too exaggerated, like a costume rather than clothing. Eleanor’s stomach twisted as she watched the man throw a full-blown tantrum over a dropped ice cream cone, his voice high-pitched and whiny.

“I want another one! You ruined it!” She glanced around, half-expecting someone to intervene or laugh at the absurdity of the scene, but no one seemed to care. Instead, the man’s companion—a woman in a pastel dress—calmly tried to soothe him, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Eleanor took a step back, her unease deepening. Something about this place was deeply wrong.

She glanced around, half-expecting someone to intervene or laugh at the absurdity of the scene, but no one seemed to care. Instead, she caught the eye of another woman nearby, perhaps in her mid-thirties, who was staring at the man with a furrowed brow and a look of deep concern. The woman stood next to an older lady who resembled her mother, but unlike her daughter, the mother was smiling and happy about everything going on, just like Clara and James. For a brief moment, Eleanor felt a flicker of relief. I’m not the only one who thinks this is weird, she thought. But before she could say anything, Clara grabbed her arm and pulled her toward a booth selling handmade Easter baskets.

“Isn’t this place amazing?” Clara said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “It’s so… quirky! I love it.”

Eleanor forced a nod, her eyes darting back to the crying man, who was now being led away by the caretaker, still sniffling. She wanted to say something, to point out how bizarre it all was, but Clara was already dragging her toward the next attraction, chattering about how cute the baskets were.

After the unsettling encounter with the man in the oversized Easter outfit, Eleanor tried to shake off her unease by focusing on the more mundane aspects of the fair. Clara and James, still blissfully oblivious, led her to a lemonade stand, where the three of them stood in line, debating the merits of funnel cake versus cotton candy. Clara was adamant that funnel cake was the superior choice, while James argued that cotton candy was the quintessential fair treat. Eleanor half-listened, her mind still preoccupied with the strange scenes she’d witnessed earlier.

Once they had their lemonade, they wandered over to a booth selling handmade Easter crafts. Clara cooed over a set of pastel-colored ceramic eggs, while James picked up a wooden bunny figurine and made it “hop” along the table, earning a laugh from Clara. Eleanor forced a smile, trying to play along, but her attention kept drifting to the crowd around them. There was something about the atmosphere that felt off—too cheerful, too forced, like the fair was hiding something beneath its bright, whimsical surface.

As they moved on, Clara spotted a face-painting booth and dragged Eleanor over, insisting they get matching designs. Eleanor reluctantly agreed, choosing a small butterfly on her cheek, while Clara went all out with a full bunny face. James snapped a few photos of them, joking that they looked like they belonged in the fair’s parade. For a moment, Eleanor almost forgot her discomfort, caught up in the lightheartedness of it all.

But the moment didn’t last. As they walked away from the booth, Eleanor’s eyes landed on a man nearby, his camera raised as he gleefully snapped photos of someone posing with the Easter bunny mascot. At first, Eleanor assumed it was a child, but as she got closer, she realized with a jolt that it was a grown man—likely in his late twenties or early thirties. He was dressed in a pastel blue footed onesie with a teddy bear embroidered on the chest, and his behavior was unmistakably childlike. He was bouncing on his toes, clapping his hands, and giggling uncontrollably as the bunny mascot waved and hopped around him. The man with the camera was encouraging him, his voice high-pitched and overly enthusiastic. “That’s it! Big smile! Look at the bunny! So cute!”

Eleanor was stunned, her stomach twisting. The man posing for the photos wasn’t just acting childish—he seemed fully regressed, his demeanor and movements indistinguishable from those of a four-year-old. His wide-eyed excitement and exaggerated gestures were unsettling, and the way the photographer fawned over him made Eleanor’s skin crawl. She glanced around, hoping that everyone else was as shocked as her, but no one seemed to care. In fact, a small crowd had gathered, smiling and cooing as if this were the most normal thing in the world.

That’s when she saw her: a woman in her early twenties, dressed in a frilly pink dress with matching bonnet and knee-high socks. She was toddling unsteadily on her feet, giggling uncontrollably as she chased a butterfly. Her movements were exaggerated and clumsy, like a toddler who hadn’t quite mastered walking. A man—her partner, perhaps—stood nearby, watching her with a fond smile.

Eleanor stared, her lemonade forgotten. The woman’s behavior was so bizarre, so wrong, that Eleanor couldn’t look away. She glanced at Clara and James, expecting them to react, but they were too engrossed in their dessert debate to notice. Eleanor’s discomfort grew as she watched the woman plop down on the grass and start playing with a stuffed bunny, babbling incoherently.

She wanted to say something, to point out the absurdity of it all, but Clara and James were already moving on, their laughter ringing in her ears as they headed toward the next attraction.

“Clara,” Eleanor said, her voice tight, “do you see that?”

Clara followed her gaze and laughed. “Oh, how cute! She’s really getting into the spirit of things.”

Eleanor blinked, stunned. “Cute? She’s acting like a child. That’s not normal.”

Clara waved her off. “Relax, Ellie. It’s just a bit of fun. You should try it sometime—you’re always so serious.”

Just as Clara grabbed Eleanor’s arm to pull her toward the next attraction, the woman in the pink dress suddenly squatted down, her face scrunching up in concentration. Eleanor’s eyes widened as she realized what the woman might be doing. Her stomach churned at the thought, but before she could process it further, Clara was tugging her away.

“Come on, Ellie! You’re missing all the fun!” Clara said, her voice cheerful and oblivious.

Eleanor glanced back over her shoulder, her mind racing. The woman was still squatting, her bonnet bobbing slightly as she shifted her weight. Eleanor felt a cold knot of dread settle in her chest as Clara and James led her away, their laughter ringing in her ears.

Suddenly James interrupted, holding up a funnel cake. “Got it! Let’s find a spot to sit.”

As they walked away, Eleanor glanced back at the woman, who was now lying on her back, kicking her legs in the air and giggling. The man knelt beside her, wiping her face with a handkerchief as if she were a child who’d made a mess. Eleanor shuddered and quickened her pace to catch up with Clara and James.

As the three sat at a picnic table, Clara and James eagerly enjoying their festive fried deserts, Eleanor excused herself to use the restroom, desperate for a moment alone to collect her thoughts. The fair’s restroom was surprisingly large, with several stalls and a separate area for changing tables. As she washed her hands, she heard a soft cooing sound coming from the changing area. Her curiosity piqued, she peeked around the corner and froze.

There, on a massive changing table, was the woman from earlier—the one in her mid-thirties who had shared Eleanor’s concern about the fair. She was lying on her back, her legs in the air, as a caretaker changed her diaper. The woman’s face was lit up with childish delight, her eyes wide and innocent as she babbled and clapped her hands. Eleanor’s stomach churned as she realized the woman was now completely regressed, her behavior and demeanor indistinguishable from that of a toddler.

Eleanor’s breath caught in her throat as she tried to process what she was seeing. The woman’s mother—the older lady who had been with her earlier—was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the caretaker was cooing softly, treating the woman like a baby. Eleanor’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of the scene. Was this some kind of twisted performance? Had the woman been drugged? Or was something even more sinister at play?

She wanted to look away, to pretend she hadn’t seen anything, but she couldn’t. The woman’s transformation was too shocking, too horrifying to ignore. As the caretaker finished the diaper change and helped the woman off the table, Eleanor finally turned away, her heart pounding. She stumbled out of the restroom, her mind reeling.

When she found Clara and James, she immediately confronted them. “Did you bring me to some kind of fair for… for retards?” Eleanor hissed, her voice trembling with disgust.

Clara looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? It’s just a fun Easter fair!”

Eleanor wasn’t convinced but decided to drop it, though her discomfort lingered. She couldn’t shake the image of the woman on the changing table, her once-concerned eyes now vacant and childlike. As they moved on to the next attraction, Eleanor couldn’t help but feel that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Eleanor excused herself to use the restroom, desperate for a moment alone to collect her thoughts. The fair’s restroom was surprisingly large, with several stalls and a separate area for changing tables. As she washed her hands, she heard a soft cooing sound coming from the changing area. Her curiosity piqued, she peeked around the corner and froze.

There, on a massive changing table, was a woman in her mid-thirties, lying on her back with her legs in the air. An older woman—clearly her mother—was changing her diaper, her hands moving with practiced ease. The younger woman babbled and clapped her hands, her face lit up with childish delight. Eleanor’s stomach churned as she realized the woman had used the diaper. The sight of a grown adult in such a state was deeply unsettling, and Eleanor felt a wave of disgust wash over her.

She wanted to look away, to pretend she hadn’t seen anything, but she couldn’t. The scene was too bizarre, too horrifying to ignore. The mother finished the diaper change and helped the woman off the table, cooing softly as she adjusted the woman’s bonnet and smoothed out her frilly dress. The younger woman giggled and toddled off, clutching a stuffed bear to her chest.

As they turned to leave, the woman nearly ran into Eleanor, her bonnet bouncing with each clumsy step. The mother quickly apologized, her voice warm and cheerful. “Oh, I’m so sorry! She’s just so excited today. Come along, sweetheart,” she said, taking the younger woman’s hand and leading her away.

Eleanor stood frozen, her heart pounding. As the pair disappeared around the corner, an eerie feeling crept over her. There was something familiar about them—the way the younger woman had looked at her, the mother’s cheerful demeanor. It reminded her of the pair she had seen when she first entered the fair: the woman in her mid-thirties who had shared her concern about the place, and her mother, who had been smiling and happy despite the oddities around them.

No, Eleanor thought, shaking her head. It can’t be them. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me. But the more she tried to dismiss the thought, the more it gnawed at her. The resemblance was uncanny. Could it really be the same woman? And if so, what had happened to her in the span of a few hours?

Eleanor’s unease turned to panic. She rushed out of the restroom and found Clara and James nearby, laughing as they shared a funnel cake. Without preamble, Eleanor grabbed Clara’s arm and hissed, “We need to leave. Right now.”

Clara blinked, confused. “What? Why? We haven’t even seen the Easter egg hunt yet.”

“This place is… it’s not right,” Eleanor said, her voice trembling. “Did you see what’s going on here? Grown adults acting like children, wearing diapers, being treated like babies—what is this place?”

Clara frowned, her expression a mix of concern and amusement. “Ellie, it’s just a fun fair. You’re overthinking things. It’s all part of the theme.”

“Theme?” Eleanor snapped. “This isn’t a theme, Clara. This is… this is sick. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I want to leave. Now.”

James stepped in, his tone calm but firm. “Hey, let’s not ruin the day, okay? We’re here to have fun. The Easter egg hunt is the main event—we can’t miss that. Come on, let’s go.”

Before Eleanor could protest further, James took Clara’s hand and started walking toward the egg hunt area. Clara glanced back at Eleanor, her expression softening. “Just try to relax, Ellie. You’ll see—it’s all in good fun.”

Eleanor hesitated, her mind racing. She wanted to argue, to demand answers, but Clara and James were already moving, their cheerful voices a stark contrast to the growing horror she felt. Reluctantly, she followed, her unease deepening with every step.

Clara and James led Eleanor toward a large tent at the edge of the fairgrounds, its entrance flanked by colorful banners advertising the Easter egg hunt. Eleanor’s unease grew as they approached. The tent was massive, with rows of registration tables lined up inside, manned by cheerful staff in pastel-colored uniforms. The setup seemed excessive for a children’s event, and Eleanor couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Why does a kids’ Easter egg hunt need all this?” Eleanor muttered, more to herself than to Clara and James. But they didn’t seem to hear her, their attention focused on a chipper young woman at one of the desks. She wore a pastel yellow shirt with the fair’s logo and greeted them with a bright smile.

“Welcome! What can I do for you today?” the woman asked, her tone sugary sweet.

Clara stepped forward, her voice bubbling with excitement. “Hi! We had a last-minute sign-up. We were originally just planning to watch, but we realized that Eleanor here”—she gestured to Eleanor, who stiffened—“could really benefit from a little fun and relaxation. She’s been so stressed lately, and we thought this would be the perfect way to help her unwind.”

Eleanor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you talking about? I didn’t sign up for anything! This is ridiculous. I want to leave. Now.”

The desk lady’s smile didn’t waver. She reached under the table and pulled out a large pacifier with straps hanging from either side. “No problem at all!” she chirped, handing the pacifier to Clara. “You can administer this yourself if you’d like. It’ll help her relax and get into the spirit of things.”

Clara took the pacifier with a gleeful smile, her eyes lighting up as she examined it. “Oh, perfect! Thanks so much.”

Eleanor took a step back, her heart pounding. “Clara, what the hell are you doing? This isn’t funny anymore. I’m leaving.”

She turned to go, but before she could take more than a few steps, two large men in the same pastel uniforms appeared behind her. They grabbed her arms from either side, their grip firm and unyielding. Eleanor’s breath hitched as she struggled against them, her voice rising in panic.

“Let me go! What is wrong with you people? Clara! James! Do something!”

But Clara and James just stood there, watching with amused smiles. Clara stepped forward, holding the pacifier in one hand. “It’s for your own good, Ellie. You need to relax and let go for once in your life.”

“No! Stop! This isn’t—!” Eleanor’s protests were cut off as Clara shoved the pacifier into her mouth. The rubber nipple filled her mouth, muffling her screams. Clara quickly wrapped the straps around Eleanor’s head, securing the pacifier tightly in place. Eleanor thrashed and tried to scream, but the sound was reduced to a muffled whimper.

The two men began dragging her away, their hands like iron clamps on her arms. Eleanor twisted her head to look back at Clara and James, her eyes wide with terror and betrayal. They stood there, smiling and waving as if she were a child being dropped off at summer camp.

“Have fun, Ellie!” Clara called after her, her voice dripping with faux sweetness. “You’ll thank us later!”

Eleanor’s muffled screams echoed in her ears as she was hauled deeper into the tent, the cheerful decorations and pastel colors now feeling sinister and oppressive. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of what was happening, but the reality was too horrifying to comprehend. She was trapped, and there was no one to help her.

Eleanor was dragged into the massive tent, her heart pounding as she took in the chaotic scene. The space was a flurry of activity, with dozens of people moving about in a strange, choreographed frenzy. Some adults, like her, were being forcibly led from one area to another, their protests muffled by pacifiers or drowned out by the cheerful chatter of the staff. Other attendants scurried around, their arms laden with pastel-colored clothing and what looked like enormous diapers. The air was thick with the scent of baby powder and something sweet, almost cloying, like cotton candy.

Eleanor was shoved into a line leading to a row of changing stations. Each station was equipped with a massive table, padded and covered in a waterproof material, and surrounded by attendants in pastel uniforms. The woman in front of Eleanor was kicking and squirming, her muffled screams barely audible through the pacifier strapped to her face. Two attendants struggled to hold her down as a third tried to fasten a frilly dress over her squirming body.

“We’re going to need a dose of Springtime Calm!” one of the attendants called out, her voice cheerful but firm.

A woman in a nurse’s uniform appeared, holding a syringe filled with a pale pink liquid. She approached the panicking woman with a gleeful smile, humming a nursery rhyme under her breath. Without hesitation, she injected the liquid into the woman’s arm. Almost immediately, the woman’s body went limp, her eyes still darting around in panic, but her limbs no longer responding to her commands. The attendants quickly finished dressing her, sliding an adult-sized pull-up over her hips and smoothing out the frilly dress. They lifted her off the table and set her on her feet, where she stood swaying slightly, her eyes wide and terrified.

Eleanor’s stomach churned as she watched the scene unfold. She clenched her fists, her mind racing. She wanted to fight, to scream, to run, but the memory of the woman’s sudden paralysis stopped her. If I fight, they’ll sedate me too, she thought. I need to stay alert. I’ll find a way out later.

When it was her turn, Eleanor forced herself to remain still, her body tense as she was led to the changing table. The attendants helped her onto the padded surface, their hands firm but not unkind. One of them, a woman with a bright smile and a name tag that read “Miss Daisy,” began removing Eleanor’s clothes. When she reached Eleanor’s undergarments, she let out a laugh.

“Oh my, aren’t these fancy?” Miss Daisy said, holding up Eleanor’s satin underwear. “So sexy! Totally inappropriate for a little baby on Easter, don’t you think?”

Eleanor burned with humiliation, her cheeks flushing red as the other attendants giggled. She clenched her teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Miss Daisy tossed the underwear aside and reached for an enormous white diaper, unfolding it with practiced ease.

The diaper was thick and puffy, its material soft but unyielding. As it was fastened around her hips, Eleanor couldn’t help but notice how it felt against her skin—bulky and restrictive, the padding pressing against her thighs and waist. The crinkling sound it made as she shifted slightly only added to her humiliation. She felt like a child, helpless and exposed, and the sensation made her stomach twist.

But it didn’t end there. Miss Daisy and the other attendants stripped Eleanor completely, removing her shirt and bra and leaving her in nothing but the diaper. They then pulled a pastel yellow shirt over her head, its hem barely reaching the top of the diaper. The shirt was loose and childish, adorned with a cartoon duck and the words “Easter Cutie” in bold, cheerful letters.

Eleanor’s face burned as she was helped off the table, her legs trembling slightly beneath her. The attendants cooed and fussed over her, adjusting her shirt and patting her diaper as if she were a toddler. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but she forced herself to stay calm, her mind racing as she plotted her next move.

Just play along for now, she told herself. You’ll find a way out. You have to.

 

Eleanor was led into a line of other adults, all dressed in similarly humiliating babyish outfits. The line snaked toward a small square area surrounded by tall curtains, its entrance marked by a cheerful banner that read, “Step Inside for a Magical Easter Surprise!” The irony of the sign was lost on no one—except, perhaps, the attendants, who bustled about with smiles plastered on their faces, herding the adults like sheep.

The other adults in line were a mix of compliance and resistance. Some, like the woman who had been sedated earlier, stood swaying slightly, their eyes glazed over and their movements sluggish. Others, still conscious, fidgeted nervously, their pacifiers bobbing in their mouths as they mumbled incoherent protests. The outfits ranged from toddler-like—frilly dresses, overalls, and bonnets—to full infantile attire, complete with onesies and bibs. Eleanor’s yellow ducky shirt and bulky diaper felt almost modest by comparison.

As she stood in line, Eleanor’s mind raced, her eyes darting around as she searched for an opportunity to escape. The attendants were everywhere, their pastel uniforms blending into the chaos like a pastel nightmare. She noticed a gap in the crowd near the edge of the tent, but before she could act, an attendant stepped into view, blocking her path. Eleanor clenched her fists, forcing herself to stay calm. Wait for the right moment, she told herself. You’ll only get one shot.

Her attention was drawn to the curtained area ahead. Bright lights flashed from within, casting colorful patterns on the fabric walls. The adults who entered never seemed to come back out, which only deepened Eleanor’s unease. What were they doing in there? What new humiliation awaited her? Her anxiety spiked as she moved closer to the front of the line, now only one person away from the entrance.

The woman directly in front of Eleanor was crying softly, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. Her outfit was particularly infantilizing— She was dressed in a frilly ballerina dress that plumed out at her waist, leaving her entire diaper exposed—a stark reminder of her infantilized state. Her pacifier bobbed as she whimpered, and Eleanor felt a pang of sympathy, even as her own fear threatened to overwhelm her. The woman turned to look at Eleanor, her eyes wide and pleading, but before she could say anything, an attendant stepped forward and gently guided her into the curtained area.

“Go on, sweetie,” the attendant said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “It’s your turn for the magic!”

Eleanor stood frozen in line, her heart pounding as she watched the crying woman in front of her being led inside. The woman’s sobs were muffled by her pacifier, her shoulders shaking as stood. The attendants guided her gently but firmly, their cheerful voices a stark contrast to the woman’s obvious terror. Eleanor’s stood petrified as the woman disappeared behind the curtains, the bright lights inside casting eerie shadows on the fabric walls.

For a moment, there was silence. Then the lights flashed again, brighter this time, accompanied by a faint, cheerful melody that made Eleanor’s skin crawl. She strained to hear what was happening inside, but the music drowned out any other sounds. Her anxiety spiked as she imagined the worst—what were they doing to her? What would they do to her?

Suddenly, there was a commotion. One of the side walls of the curtained area burst open, and the woman came stumbling out. Eleanor’s initial reaction was relief—she had escaped! But as the woman turned toward her, Eleanor’s relief turned to horror. The woman’s face wasn’t one of defiance or determination. Instead, she wore an expression of pure, infantile mischief. Her tears had dried, leaving streaks of mascara on her cheeks, but her eyes were wide and glazed over, her mouth stretched into a droopy, mindless smile. She giggled uncontrollably as she toddled around, her movements clumsy and uncoordinated, the frilly ballerina dress bouncing with each step.

The attendants chased after her, their laughter mingling with hers as if this were all part of the fun. One of the guards who had been holding Eleanor’s arms—a burly man with a kind smile—let go of her to intercept the woman. He caught her gently in a hug, lifting her off the ground and cooing, “There, there, little one. You’re okay.” He set her down once she had calmed, but the woman’s demeanor didn’t change. She clung to his arm, toddling almost right up to Eleanor before stopping abruptly.

Eleanor stared, her stomach twisting as the woman’s face scrunched up in concentration. The woman dropped into a squat, her hands gripping the guard’s arm for support. Her cheeks puffed out, her eyes furrowed, and her face turned red as she strained. A loud fart ripped through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of a mess exploding into her diaper. The smell hit Eleanor like a wave, and she gagged, her horror deepening as the diaper visibly bulged and swelled beneath the woman’s frilly dress. The guard chuckled softly, patting the woman’s back.

“Good job, sweetheart!” he said, his voice warm and encouraging. “Let’s get you cleaned up, hmm?” He led her away, the woman toddling beside him with a vacant smile, the swollen diaper sagging heavily between her legs.

Eleanor’s mind reeled. They weren’t just humiliating these adults—somehow, they were regressing them mentally into babies. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, and she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to escape, now.

With one of her guards distracted, escorting the regressed woman away, Eleanor saw her chance. The pacifier strapped into her mouth had been driving her mad, the rubber nipple pressing against her tongue and the strap digging into the back of her head. She reached up with her free hand, fumbling with the clip until it released. She ripped the pacifier out of her mouth, gasping as fresh air filled her lungs. The relief was immediate, but short-lived—she had no time to savor it.

She turned to the remaining guard, a wiry man with his attention cast somewhere else in the tent. Without hesitation, she drove her knee into his groin. He doubled over with a grunt, releasing her arm. Eleanor didn’t wait—she bolted, her heart racing as she tore through the tent.

She dodged around stacks of diapers, weaving between changing tables and pastel-clad attendants. She was running in a circle. She needed to find a path past everything to the outside. Then she could get to the road and flag down help. Attendants rushed towards her from multiple direction now. She threw items down behind her as she negotiated through the maze of infantile accoutrements. She wove past a row of changing tables and saw her path to a flap entrance unobstructed. She just had to run now.

Just as she reached the edge of the tent, a large man stepped into her path, his arms outstretched. Eleanor tried to dodge, but he was too quick. He grabbed her, his grip like iron, and lifted her off the ground. She kicked and screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

“Let me go! Please! You can’t do this!”

A woman appeared, holding a syringe filled with a pale pink liquid. Eleanor’s eyes widened in terror as she recognized it—the same sedative they had used on the woman earlier. She thrashed wildly, but the man holding her was too strong.

“Shh, sweetie,” the woman said, her voice sickeningly sweet. “This will help you relax.”

Eleanor screamed as the needle pierced her skin, the cold liquid flooding her veins. Almost immediately, her limbs grew heavy, her struggles weakening as the world around her began to blur. The last thing she saw was the woman’s smiling face, her voice fading into a distant hum.

“Happy Easter, little one.”

Then everything went black.

Clara and James sat on the bleachers by the open field, the air filled with the cheerful sounds of children’s laughter and the faint hum of the fair in the background. The field was a pastel wonderland, decorated with oversized Easter eggs, towering bunny statues, and clusters of fake flowers. The large regression tent loomed nearby, its cheerful banners fluttering in the breeze. Clara absentmindedly scrolled through the photos on her phone, pausing to show James a particularly cute shot of the two of them posing in front of a giant Easter bunny earlier in the day. James chuckled, leaning back and stretching his arms.

“We’ve had such a fun day,” Clara said, her voice tinged with satisfaction. “And it’s about to get even better.”

James nodded, though his attention was already drifting to the field. An announcement crackled over the loudspeakers, the voice bright and bubbly. “Attention, everyone! The Easter egg hunt is about to begin! Let’s give a warm welcome to our little ones!”

Clara and James put their phones away, their eyes lighting up with anticipation. The “children” began to wander out onto the field, their movements clumsy and exaggerated. Each one wore a comically large nametag pinned to their outfit, bearing infantilized versions of their adult names: “Ellie,” “Tommy,” “Lulu,” and so on. Most of them carried cute baskets, their faces lit up with excitement as they toddled toward the colorful eggs scattered across the grass. The crowd in the bleachers cooed and clapped as the adults-turned-babies made their way into view, their pacifiers bobbing in their mouths or their faces slack with dopey, vacant grins.

Clara and James watched with rapt attention, pointing out their favorites. One man, dressed in overalls and a striped shirt, was crawling on all fours, giggling as he chased a rolling egg. Another woman, in a frilly pink dress and bonnet, sat cross-legged in the grass, babbling to a stuffed bunny as she chewed on its ear. A third “child,” a man in a sailor suit, was being carried out by an attendant and laid gently on his back. He kicked his legs in the air, laughing as he rolled around with a set of plastic keys.

“Oh, look at that one!” Clara said, pointing to a woman in a light green onesie adorned with tiny embroidered ducklings. She wore matching green booties and a bonnet with a yellow ribbon, her pacifier clipped to the front of her outfit. Unlike the others, she was standing upright, her eyes darting around with a look of growing awareness. Her movements were hesitant, almost cautious, as if she were trying to piece together where she was and what was happening.

“She’s adorable,” James said, though his tone shifted as he noticed her expression. “Wait… is she…?”

Clara frowned, her eyes narrowing. “She’s fighting it. Look at her—she’s starting to wake up.”

Clara waved over an attendant who was patrolling the aisles. The woman, dressed in a pastel uniform with a radio clipped to her chest, approached with a smile. “Everything okay?” she asked.

“That one,” Clara said, pointing to the woman in the green onesie. “She’s not fully regressed. She’s starting to figure things out.”

The attendant’s smile didn’t waver. “Thanks for letting us know. We’ll take care of it.” She spoke into her radio, her voice calm and professional. “We’ve got a Level 2 regression resistance in Sector 3. Requesting reinforcement.”

On the field, the woman in the green onesie was now looking around frantically, her eyes wide with panic. She took a few shaky steps forward, her hands trembling as she reached up to pull the pacifier from her mouth. But before she could act, two attendants appeared at her sides, grabbing her arms and gently but firmly pulling her to the ground. She struggled, her muffled cries drawing the attention of the crowd.

Two more attendants arrived, one carrying a basket filled with strange items: a pair of headphones decorated with bunny ears, a vibrator shaped like a carrot, and a phone playing a hypnotic audio track. The woman with the headphones placed them over the struggling woman’s ears, while the other attendant held her head in place. The woman with the vibrator turned it on, its low hum audible even from the bleachers, and began rubbing it against the woman’s diaper.

The effect was immediate. The woman’s struggles ceased as her body tensed, her back arching as she let out a loud, involuntary moan. The crowd erupted into laughter, including Clara and James, who watched with a mix of amusement and fascination. The woman’s moans grew louder, her hips bucking as the vibrator worked its magic. Her face flushed, her eyes rolling back as she reached a powerful, shuddering orgasm.

The attendants held her steady, the hypnotic audio from the phone drilling into her brain through the headphones. When they finally sat her up, the woman’s expression was completely blank, her mouth slack and drooling. Her eyes were empty, devoid of any awareness or intelligence. She was no longer a toddler—she had been regressed all the way down to an infant.

Clara and James laughed, shaking their heads. “Well, she shouldn’t have made such a big stink,” Clara said, her voice light and teasing. “She was doing so well as a toddler, but now she’s just a baby.”

James chuckled, wrapping an arm around Clara’s shoulders. “She’ll be happier this way. No more stress, no more worries—just fun and playtime.”

As the attendants carried the woman away, her bonnet askew and her onesie damp with drool, Clara and James turned their attention back to the field, where the other “children” were happily hunting for eggs and playing in the grass. The sun shone brightly overhead, and the air was filled with the sounds of laughter and joy.

Clara’s eyes lit up as she spotted Eleanor—or rather, Elly—being guided out of the tent by an attendant. Elly was dressed in her yellow ducky shirt, the large nametag “Elly” pinned prominently to the front. Her bonnet was slightly askew, and her pacifier bobbed in her mouth as she toddled uncertainly, her steps wobbly and unsure.

The attendant gently deposited Elly on the ground, and after a moment of hesitation, she dropped to her hands and knees, crawling with more confidence. Her eyes, though empty, were wide with curiosity, taking in the colorful field as if everything around her were new and fascinating. Clara squealed with joy, clutching James’s arm. “Look at her! She came out perfect! She looks so happy!”

James grinned, waving enthusiastically at Elly. “Hey, Elly! Over here!” But Elly didn’t notice. Instead, she turned her attention to a ladybug crawling on a blade of grass, her head tilting as she watched it with childlike wonder. After a moment, she lost interest and sat back on her diapered butt, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Her clumsy fingers tugged at the fabric, trying to pull it off, but she couldn’t quite manage it.

An attendant noticed her struggle and approached with a smile. “Need some help, sweetie?” she cooed, gently pulling the shirt over Elly’s head. Elly’s shapely, round breasts gleamed in the sunlight, but she showed no sign of embarrassment or self-awareness. Instead, she bounced up and down on her diapered butt, her face lit up with relief and joy at being free of the shirt. Drool hung from her lower lip, glistening in the sun as it dripped onto her bare chest. Clara and James watched, their hearts swelling with pride.

“The staff did a perfect job with her,” Clara said, her voice soft with admiration. “She’s just so… carefree.”

James nodded, snapping a few photos on his phone. “She’s adorable. Look at her go.” He zoomed in on Elly’s face, capturing the drool dripping onto her breasts as she bounced. “We have to send these to Mom and Dad. They’ll get a kick out of seeing her like this.”

Clara laughed, taking her own phone out to snap more pictures. “Oh, definitely. And we should post a few on social media. Everyone’s going to love seeing how happy she is.”

Elly, now completely nude except for her bulky diaper, crawled toward a circle of other regressed adults who were playing with toys. Her sodden diaper swung heavily between her thighs with each movement, its yellowed bulk sagging lower and lower. Her breasts swayed in rhythm with her crawling, the motion almost hypnotic as she made her way across the grass. Clara and James chuckled, snapping more photos.

“Look at her soggy diaper!” Clara said, her voice dripping with affection. “She’s just too cute.”

Their attention was briefly pulled away as a commotion erupted across the field. Another woman, clearly resisting her regression, was being forcibly held down by attendants. One of them held a vibrator to her diaper while another adjusted a pair of bunny-eared headphones over her ears. The woman’s moans and cries drew laughter from the crowd, but Clara and James barely noticed.

Nearby, a toddler-aged man wandered over to the scene, oblivious to the woman’s struggles. He dropped into a squat, his face scrunching up with effort as he filled his diaper. The crowd erupted into laughter, and Clara and James joined in, their hearts full

Clara and James returned their focus to Elly, who had joined the circle of regressed adults and was now happily babbling to a stuffed bunny as well as to the other adult babies.

Clara and James laughed as they watched Elly interact with the other “children.” “Look at her,” Clara said, her voice warm with pride. “She’s already making friends.”

James nodded, wrapping an arm around Clara’s shoulders. “We’ll have to get some of the parents’ numbers. We can arrange playdates for her.”

Clara smiled, leaning into James. “That’s a great idea. She’s going to have so much fun.”

As they watched, Elly sat up from her play, her face scrunching up in concentration. Her cheeks puffed out, her eyes furrowed, and her body tensed as she strained. A loud fart ripped through the air, the seat of her diaper bulged as the mess migrate out into her already wet material. The diaper visibly expanded and sagged even further, its contents pressing against the thin plastic lining. Elly’s face relaxed into an expression of pure relief, her mouth slack and drooling as she babbled happily to her new friends.

Clara and James laughed, snapping more photos. “She’s just too precious,” Clara said, her voice filled with affection.

James nodded, his arm still around Clara’s shoulders. “She’s perfect.”

Meanwhile, oblivious to everything sat Elly. Empty eyes wide with childlike wonder as she babbled and drooled, completely unaware of the world around her. The sad melancholic life of her adulthood locked away tightly deep in the recesses of mind. In its stead, was the endless joy of childhood innocence.