Ersatz (Part 10) (Patreon)

(Christy)

“Do you, Tyler,” Drew asked, “take Christy?”  

Tyler looked at Christy as if she were the only girl in the entire world. “I do,” he said solemnly.

“And do you, Christy,” Drew repeated,  “take Tyler?”

Christy was positively glowing when she said, “I do.”  The warmth in her heart was only matched by the heat between her legs.

It was a perfect scene. Brittney was standing by Christy wearing her flower girl dress, holding her basket full of petals. Both girls had been changed into extra thick nighttime diapers so they could get through more of the ceremony without interruption.  Their fancy dresses were so long that one could only tell what was underneath if they bent over or raised their hands all the way up over their heads.  Christy and Brittney matched, but any onlooker could tell that today was Christy’s special day since Brittney was wearing the basket and Christy had the veil on.

Tyler, meanwhile, had leaked through his pants, so he’d needed to be changed right before the vows. The wedding wasn’t ruined, however, as his tuxedo t-shirt was still in prime condition. Christy wasn’t mad.  He’d just had a wild bachelor party.

Meanwhile, Drew held the special marriage book and pretended to read from it like the Grown-Ups did on T.V.  

“Then by the power infested in me,” Drew finished, “I now pronounce you boyfriend and girlfriend.  You can now kiss.”

“EWWWWWWWW!” Brittney gagged, as if she and Drew hadn’t done the same thing a few years prior.

Christy puckered her lips, closed her eyes, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Her eyes fluttered open. Tyler’s eyes were closed, slammed shut as if in deep concentration, but his lips were not extended.  His knees were bent and his fists were clenched.  Christy wasn’t behind him, but if she was, she would have seen the back of his diaper ballooning out slightly behind him.

Finally he sighed, opened up his eyes, and gave a tired smile.   “Sorry,” he said. “I pooped.”

“It’s okay,” Christy said. She’d pooped while he was getting changed and hadn’t even realized it until now.  Tyler knew he’d pooped as soon as it had happened! So mature! There really were advantages to marrying an older man.  “Kiss?”

“Yeah!” Tyler said without hesitation.  He leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the forehead, just like the Grown-Ups did.  Then gave her one on each cheek. It made her positively tingle from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head.  She puckered her lips up and Tyler moved his head so she could kiss him on the cheeks and forehead too.

Oh wow! So experienced!

“Now what?”  Tyler asked.

“I think we throw rice at you,” Brittney replied.  She reached into her flower basket and took out a fistful of torn up notebook paper.  It had been white rose petals when she was being the flower girl, but now it was white rice.  She tossed it in the air over their heads. “Happy wedding!”

Drew was more enthusiastic. He quickly toddled over to the changing table and grabbed a bottle of baby powder from one of the lower shelves.  He shook he shook it like a flail and dusted the air and carpet all around. “HAAAAAAAPPY WEDDING!”

“Happy wedding!” Tyler repeated.

“Happy wedding!” Christy agreed.

The four Little friends all giggled at what fun they were having.

Fun.
Frollicking.

Love.

This really was the happiest day of her life. If getting married was always this fun, Christy decided, maybe she could get married tomorrow.

“What next?” Christy asked, not wanting the game to end.

Tyler took her by the wrist.  “We go on a honeymoon,” he said.  He took her hand. “Come on! Follow me!”

The pair frollicked around the room.  “Here?” Tyler asked, pointing to a corner of the room.

Christy turned and looked over her shoulder.  Tyler and Brittney were waving and smiling at them.  “No…”

Tyler took her to the far side of the T.V.  “What about here?”

Her friends couldn’t see her, but if Granny walked in from the hallway, she’d see them easily. No privacy.  “No.”

They waddled to the far corner from the kitchen. Beside the couch and with stuffed animals piled up beside it.  “Here?”

The piles of stuffies could be fun to cuddle in.  The couch was a good barrier. At the perfect angle.

Safe.

Private.

Unseen.

Christy knew enough to know that what they were doing would need to be private.  “Okay,” she said.

Smiling and giggling, the newly married boyfriend and girlfriend jumped into the pile of stuffed animals, flopping and burrowing like they were swimming through pudding and pillows without water wingies.  They dug and dug and dug deep down until the only light came in through tiny shafts between cotton filled bunnies, bears, and tigers.

“What now?” she asked.

The very mature boyfriend she’d just married thought for a minute. “I think we’re supposed to wrestle.”

Yuck. Christy hated wrestling. A bunch of big sweaty guys rolling around in their underwear.  That didn’t seem like fun.  “Are you sure?”

“Yup!” Tyler said. One time my Mommy forgot to raise the rail up and I saw her.  She was wrestling.  He put her hand on her chest. “Like this!”

Christy gasped.

Tingles.

Electricity.

Tickling but good.

So this is why those big sweaty men did it on T.V.

They wrestled like that for a few seconds, getting closer and closer together, digging deeper and deeper into their personal cuddle puddle beneath the stuffed animals.  Soon their diapers were touching, and Christy felt the strangest thing.

Both of Tyler’s hands were touching her. One on her breast, and the other pulling her hair, but she felt something else poking her through their diapers. It felt hard, even through all the padding.

“Tyler?” Christy whispered. “Did you make a poopy in front?”  How was that even possible?

“I don’t think so,” Tyler whispered back. “Why?”

Christy wiggled and squeezed the front of his diaper, just like Granny sometimes did when she was checking them.  The diaper was very squishy like hers, but there was something else underneath it.  “What’s this?”

“That’s my penis,” Tyler said very matter of factly. He let go of her hair and checked her diaper. His hand was clumsier as he had to find a way to lift up her dress while still being on top of her, but he got there. “Where’s yours?”

Confusion.

Embarrassment.

Less than.

“I don’t have a penis,” Christy said.  “I don’t think I do.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tyler apologized. “How did you lose it?” A beat. “Never mind. That’s rude. Do you wanna touch mine?”

Curiosity.

Excitement.

Novelty.

“Yes please!”  She started to squeeze and rub the front of his diaper, feeling the hard thing in the front.  Upon further inspection it definitely wasn’t poopy. Poopy got all mashed up and mushy when pressed. The more Christy pressed the front of Tyler’s diaper, the harder it became. “Ooooo!”

Tyler started helping Christy by pushing back, rubbing his diaper on her hand for her by thrusting his hips.  Christy took her hand away so that their diapers were touching again.

Oh!

Pleasure!

Heart racing!

Fun!

It felt good when the front of Tyler’s diaper pressed against the front of hers in just the right way.  It was like a big finger poking her and checking her, pressing the soft, wet squishiness of her diaper against her again and again and again.

“Are you hurting?” Tyler asked. “You’re making some funny noises.”  He stopped rubbing his diaper against hers.

“I am?”

“You’re moaning,” Tyler said. “Am I giving you an owie?”

“No,” Christy whispered breathlessly. “Keep doing it.  It feels good. Sooooooo good.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah.”
“Me too.”

They cuddled underneath the stuffie pile, with Christy  biting her lip and trying not to make too many sounds.  She let the remaining crinkle of their wet and poopy diapers do all the talking, with everything swishing and sloshing around like she was in a bouncer, or a see saw.

The pressure built and built and built, and then Christy’s diaper parts started to squirt. It felt a little like pee, but it definitely felt different. A lot different.  A cross between having really bad gas and peeing. A bubble inside of her blowing up until it popped.  Except the build up was more of a tickle than painful. And the pop felt really, really good.

She couldn’t quite describe it.

Sex?

Was this sex?

How did she know that word? She was just a baby. Babies shouldn’t know about sex.

“Remember kiddos,” Uncle Klownso’s deep baritone voice thundered from the television screen.  “You’re not really Grown-Ups! You’re just babies! Accept it! You’ve just been pretending this whole time!”

Time froze for Christy.  Pretending?

Uncle Klownso was right. Granny was right. She really was just a baby, wasn’t she?  She pawed at her eyes and tried to remember differently, but she couldn’t.  Her wedding day had just been her playing dress up. So had her graduating from college. She’d been crinkling underneath that smock of a gown; a coloring page rolled up for diploma and a hat made of stiff cardstock.

The same was true about growing up. Just her doing dress up pretend games.

Likewise for sex. If she really thought about it, she couldn’t even remember what sex was like. Every mental image of her and Tyler being intimate were exactly like this, the two of them bumping and grinding their diapers together, not knowing what else to do.  Mutual masturbation and play-acting, nothing more.

Nearly thirty years of memorie;. nothing but manufactured fantasies and recontextualization of what she’d actually been doing all this time.  That’s why Christy thought in feelings more than words.  She didn’t know enough words, did she? She only knew the baby ones.

Enlightenment.

Fear.
Verge of tantrum

“Isn’t it time for a new game?” Uncle Klownso asked her.  “Isn’t it time to wake up and accept what you really are?”

“No…” Christy whispered, for she could make no other sound. “No. This is wrong.”

“You’re baaa-aaaa-by

You’re a titty suckling tot.

Just a baaa-aaaa-by
Fill your pants and lose your thoughts.

When things get intense and it makes no sense
You need a fact you can consult
Take a cursory look at your nursery
You’re too Little to be Adult…

Christy woke up with her eyes already wide open.  She was tilted back, sucking on a bottle, the delicious cream sliding into the back of her throat and down to her tummy as soon as she had enough in her mouth.  

Haze.

Confusion.

Blur.

Her eyes focused and she saw the smiling face of Granny grinning down at her.  “Welcome back!” Granny said. “You really liked that Uncle Klownso cartoon, didn’t you?” she cooed.

Christy spasmed in a panic and tried to sit up, but Granny only needed her free hand to pin the Little girl back down.  “I thought I was gonna have an accidental newborn on my hand for a few hours, but I knew you’d be okay when you started playing with yourself again.”

Christy was allowed to tilt her head and look down at herself. Both hands were between her legs, pressed up against a diaper that was every bit as wet and messy as the one in her dream had been.

Nipple still in her mouth, she let out a little “Eeep” and yanked her hands up away from herself.

“No need to be shy, dearie,” Granny chuckled. “It’s perfectly natural for you to want to explore.” Another, more mocking sound that didn’t quite ring as laughter to her. “I know that your boyfriend hasn’t been shy.”

The sound of someone bawling registered at last. Christy turned her head to the side, successfully removing the nipple from her mouth.  All three of her friends were on the living room floor, twisted as if wracked with incredible pain.

Panic!

Worry!

What had she done to them?  A moment of stillness brought some clarity.  Drew had curled himself into a fetal position by the television. He rocked himself unconsciously, mumbling something to himself.  Brittney was openly sobbing on the floor, her diaper sagging out from between her legs and her legs spread eagle.  She buried her face into her palms. “Make it stop!” she screamed. “Make it staaaaahp!”

Her boyfriend was in the playpen in the center of the room, face red and wet with tears wet with tears and panting heavily. He kept scooting around in his seat.  The other four: Peter, Michael, Jon, and Wendy, crawled around freely and happily, not paying the others any mind save to maneuver around them or grab a nearby toy.

“See?” Granny whispered. “They haven’t noticed you yet. If you wanted to, you could finish what you started.  Put your hands beneath your pretty dress and give your wet and mushy diaper a nice pat.”  

It was seductive after a fashion. More strangely, it seemed reasonable. She’d used her diaper like a good girl.  Why not get some use out of it?  She’d filled it with everything else, why not something that made her feel good?  Her friends didn’t notice. They didn’t notice when she’d wet her diaper, would they notice if she did something else in it?

Her best friend and her boyfriend had used her diapers like this already. Why couldn’t she? They had the special cream making them feel those feelings whenever they peed and pooped though. What excuse did Christy have?

Hadn’t Granny said Tyler used his diaper the old fashioned way? While whispering Brittney’s name? Why couldn’t she have a little fun?

If she was really good, maybe Granny would give her the special rash cream too…

No. That was the milk talking. Christy looked the Grown-Up in the eyes and shook her head. No. She wouldn’t debase herself like that.  She had more self control than Granny gave her credit for.

Resentment.

Confidence.
Determination.

It didn’t matter that Granny thought she was still a baby.  It didn’t matter that Christy’s own memories told her she was a baby.  It didn’t matter that Christy wanted to be a baby. She wasn’t.  She wouldn’t succumb.

“Oh?” Granny whispered.  Her hand traveled down between her legs and started doing something more than just checking her diaper.  “Does baby girl need some help?”

“NO!” Christy screamed. The others all snapped out of their own funk. Even the babbling babies stared directly at the pair on the couch. “DON’T! FUCKING! TOUCH ME LIKE THAT!”  Each syllable was punctuated with a smack against the giantess’s hands.

Righteous Anger!

Granny took her hand away, and glowered. Like an angry bull her nostrils flared and a growl rose up in her throat.  Christy didn’t have any memories of being spanked, but she had a feeling she was about to make one.

“Do you want a spanking before or after I change you?!” Granny asked.

“After!”  Christy spat.

“Have it your way.”

Christy gasped involuntarily as she was flipped over onto her stomach.

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

The sound of soft plastic and padding being impacted and slapped by flesh sounded off like a sonic boom. The impact, though blunted, was enough to take the wind out of Christy.

Pain!

Nothing but pain!  

Inside and out, pain!

Her face scrunched up like a raisin as hit after hit landed on her. She couldn’t cry! She couldn’t scream. She couldn’t breathe!  Every part from her buttocks to her lungs felt like it was on fire. The beating stopped just long enough for her to inhale again.  Her exhale was the beginning of a wordless scream.

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

To call it a stinging sensation would be an understatement.  Christy had never been bit by a venomous snake, but the sort of pain, a neurotoxin, or something necrotic that rotted away the flesh, had to be in the same ballpark.

THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP! THWAP!

The third round was the final, and it left Christy screaming less out of pain (though there certainly was more than enough of that) and more out of a necessity to breathe.  Too many muscles contracting and fighting each other all at once to do anything else.

Granny took a long time looking, wiping, Christy down on the changing table. Every wipe to her bottom felt rough and painful.  “I shouldn’t wipe you,” the giantess sneered. The brown stains on the wipes used between Christy’s legs signaled that the mess had spread further than just her backside.  “Should just leave you to get a rash or something worse.” Like a switch had flipped, her expression did a complete one-eighty. “But that wouldn’t be fair to you, would it?: You’re just a baby and babies don’t think things through or know what they’re saying!”

She tickled Christy’s tummy and a spurt of urine shot out of her and onto the soiled diaper.  Christy briefly wish she’d had a penis so she could have aimed it at the giant crone.

“No they don’t!” Granny cooed. “No, they certainly don’t! Don’t even know how to go potty by themselves! So why should they be punished more than necessary?”

No cream, pea green or otherwise was applied to Christy’s not-so-privates.  No powder either. The fresh diaper still felt amazing compared to the old one. It was the sort of thing one didn’t realize until after the fact, like changing into dry clothes after getting out of the pool, or in this case a sponge bikini laminated by a garbage bag.

Brittney waddled up to Christy and threw her arms around her. “Are you okay?” she asked?”

Christy sniffled and found her voice. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I think so.”  It was a lie, but one needed to be told. Not so deep down inside herself, Christy felt a mixture of anger, jealousy, resentment, hatred.  All the bad feelings best buried under smiles. The kind of stuff that made her want to bite ears off or to spit in someone’s face.

None of it could be directed at the true evoker of such negativity; not effectively, but the energy was still there and not lashing out at her friends or the poor souls with them on the floor who were too far gone took an inhuman amount of restraint.  

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Brittney groaned and hugged Christy tighter, her embrace becoming a vice.  

Christy’s eyes widened and she became very very still. Unsure of what to do. She didn’t need to feel the other girl’s diaper brushing up against hers to know exactly what Brittney was doing.

“Ohhhhhhh yeah,” Brittney whispered breathlessly. “Jesus…”

“Yeah…” Christy replied, awkwardly.

Brittney released Christy from her grip and threw her hands down over her padded crotch. “Ohmygosh!” Brittney gasped. “I’m so sorry!”  I just… I was grabbing you to remain standing, not because…not because…”

Christy stopped her best friend from talking.  “It’s okay,” she lied. “I understand.”

Brittney had lead the charge for their first escape attempt from this hell. She’d been ‘rewarded’ with constant orgasms triggered by incontinent accidents. Contrariwise, her boyfriend had had his teeth removed. The fact that none of them could remember what they did for the attempt was extra salt in the wound.

That was Granny’s M.O. Punish escape by disproportionate measure. Give the leaders painful pleasure, scar a follower as a lesson not to follow. Scramble everyone’s brains till they didn’t know which way was up.

Evil.

Just Evil.

What had she forgotten this time she wondered?  It was so hard to tell and getting harder.  She pictured her and Tyler’s first kiss. They were both wearing diapers back then, but that didn’t feel right, did it?

Mental images of babysitting her little sisters, changing their diapers when they were toddlers, contrasted with memories of her and Brittney gossiping in the girl’s room while they got their own diapers changed.  Talking about cute boys like Tyler and Brittney setting her up, while their mommies taped up fresh Monkeez around their hips and buttoned up their onesies for them.

So much contrasted but it all felt far too real.

“BABABABABABABABABA!”  Christy turned towards the sound and saw her boyfriend, pressed up against the playpen mesh from the inside. “KAMABAMAKOO!”

Oh no! He’d been turned already! It must have been a punishment for the escape attempt, but damnit all if she could remember what they tried!

“Tyler!” she said, still on the edge of sobbing, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Moomooogoomoogoo!” Tyler babbled, desperately.
Christy squinted her eyes. He stood only a little taller than her because of the pen’s elevated surface. She could see in his mouth, still full of teeth.

“Tyler?” she asked. “Can you understand me?”

Tyler kept babbling but nodded his head. “Agooooom!”

“Close your mouth,” she instructed. “Don’t talk.”

Tyler obeyed and nodded his head.

Curiosity.

Mystery.


“Are…” she whispered. “Are you a baby?”

Tyler shook his head vehemently.

Revelation!

Success!

“Are you sure?”

Tyler looked like he was about to nod his head in the affirmative, but the second he cocked his head back he looked unsure. The same for when he just barely started to shake it from side to side.  Her boyfriend had the most sour look on his face while he shrugged.  Whatever Granny had done to him had made him as doubtful as the rest of them.

There was a line between adult and baby and it was getting blurrier and blurrier.

“How old are we?”

Tyler looked at his fingers, searching for the answer.  Again he gave a sour pussed shrug.

Damn. Same.

Christy leaned against the mesh, her arms spread wide. “I’m so glad you’re still you.”  

Tyler did the same and leaned against. “Kakaaaaaaa,” he said.

“I love you too.”
Tyler Abruptly sank down to his knees.  Christy stepped back and gaped as he fell backwards, his eyes closed.  He gurgled, groaned, and grunted while his pants filled up. His hands shot down between his legs as he started humping himself.

Oh gosh, Christy realized, she couldn’t even remember what any kind of sexual stimulation outside of a diaper felt like!  Couldn’t even remember if she was supposed to remember How far had they all fallen?

Christy turned away and fought the urge to sob openly.

“He can’t help it,” Brittney said gently, beside her. “Neither of us can.”

“I know,” Christy replied.  It didn’t make her fear any less.

Hopeless.

Clueless.

Lost.

The shadow of  Granny circled around and draped itself over Tyler from the opposite side of the playpen.  “Good baby,” she said. “Feels so much better behaving and accepting what you are than resisting, doesn’t it?”

Tyler might have agreed with her, or he might have told her to fuck off. It was impossible to translate from body language.

She picked the boy up and carried him over to the changing table, patting his sagging bottom all the while.  “I better change you quick before your penis goes erect again.” She said it far too loudly to be a coincidence.  She laid him down and started undressing him. “Oh the challenges of taking care of Little boys.”  

Brittney looked at Christy, extremely perturbed and hissed, “What’s a penis?”

Christy frowned and shook her head.  
**************************************************************************************
Later that night Christy laid quivering in her crib.

Group bath time had been filled with soapy bubbles and horrendous revelations.  They’d been denied the chance to shower or bathe individually and had been stripped in front of each other one at a time and then dunked into a tub filled with bubbles.  Christy couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so grateful for suds.

That’s what a penis was? Really?!  Christy had shrieked when she first saw Drew’s. She’d thought Granny had given the boys cancer or something and that the tumor was growing wildly out of control.  The boys, likewise, stared at the girl’s vaginas and gaped like something had been amputated.
“Such a wonder,” Granny wondered, “that you’re supposedly all Grown-Ups but don’t know what different genitals look like!”  

Existential terror.

Existential threat.

This was worse than Christy could imagine.  Their memories were being tampered with. There was no way they could make it to being a grown up and not know this stuff.

A terrible thought:

What if they hadn’t actually made it to being a grown up?

Thirsty!

Panic!

Run Away!

Suckle!

Now clad in fleecy pajamas that covered every square inch of surface area below the neck, Christy rolled over and grabbed the bottle that Granny had left her in her crib. The sweet unconsciousness and disturbing dreams had to be better than what she was feeling now.

Her eyes sealed themselves shut, not caring that she’d definitely be soaked, possibly messy” when she opened them next.
****************************************************************************
Christy woke up on the changing table the next morning.  “There you are!” Granny said. “I was afraid I’d have to put your jammies back on and let you sleep the day away.”  Christy’s ankles were crossed and her legs were in the air, the feeling of a cold baby wipe being dragged across her bottom.

“You slept through the night,” Granny praised her.  “I think that deserves a special reward.”

The old diaper was out from her and the new one was slid into place. Something cold like a wipe, but sticky like peanut butter was spread between her cheeks.  Christy lifted her head off the padded mat and saw just enough pea green residue on Granny’s fingers to know what was happening.

Oh no!

Now she was going to be reduced to dumb diaper humping baby just like her boyfriend and best friend.  How was she going to get out if she kept cumming every time she wet or messed her diaper?  How the hell did she still know what an orgasm was but hadn’t remembered what a penis looked like until yesterday?  

None of it made any sense.

Granny lowered her down to the floor “Go play,” she said, giving Christy a pat on her padded bottom.  Still sore, she yelped, and fell forward onto her hands and knees, and started crawling.  

Better she crawl, she thought, so that she didn’t accidentally tumble onto her bruised and aching behind.  Her face flinched at the gooey feeling between her cheeks. It was like Granny had followed through on her threat of not wiping Christy, but without the potential to develop a nasty rash.  All of the discomfort with none of the hygiene problems…okay, fewer hygiene problems.

The crinkle with every movement she made felt like the ticking of a timebomb. Her memories told her a jumbled mess.  She was either incontinent now, or had never been potty trained, but no matter what it was only a matter of time before her diaper had other things in it than pea green rash cream.  When that happened, she knew, she’d turn into an overwhelmed mess on the floor, sucking her thumb so as not to scream and rubbing herself to get the gleeful agony over with.

A bead of sweat formed on her forehead. Was it bad that she was sort of excited about it? Hard to feel guilty about having a good time if you can’t help it.  At least one mildly pleasant thing could happen to her during her stay here.

Christy looked around confused. She took her thumb out of her mouth, not even realizing that she’d inserting it.  Where were her friends?  Where were Drew and Brittney and Ty-

Christy felt her cheeks spread and her body start to push! She was pooping herself! Here it came! Here she came! Christy held her breath and let her eyes roll back as the sticky mass wormed it’s way out of her and settled into the back of her diaper.  

“Mmmmm…” she buzzed her lips waiting for the mind wracking orgasm to hit her.  Another small cramp, and she pushed again.  “Mmmmmm…” Exhaling and humming helped to get it out.

Any minute now.

She rolled over onto her back like she’d seen Tyler doing and placed her hands between her leg and right on her mound. That…didn’t feel right.  She felt a tingle, but it was further down below. She snaked her hands and rubbed her diaper lower. It felt pretty good but something was missing.  It was muted in fact.

Terribly muted.

Where was the orgasm?

There was supposed to be a sense shattering orgasm!

She rubbed and the crinkle filled her ears. She bit her lip and slammed her eyes shut. But nothing happened. All she was doing was masturbating in a shitty diaper and not really enjoying it.  Her nose wrinkled at the thought as well as the smell.

Nipples! Maybe nipples!

One hand leapt up to her breasts and she started teasing herself. Pinching and twisting at her nipples to excite herself, but it was having little effect.

Numb.

Frustrated.

Confused.

She growled and huffed, her mouth feeling curiously full.  She looked down past her nose and found her thumb firmly lodged between her lips again.  How had that gotten there?

She rolled back over to all fours and sank down to her belly, stupidly humping the ground in some kind of attempt to find pleasure.  Why were the others enjoying it so much and not her?

Was there something wrong with her?

Or maybe it didn’t work on her because there was something right with her.  

Maybe the special diaper cream only worked on babies…

***************************************************************************************************
Christy’s eyes opened wide and she let out a muffled scream, cut short by something wedged tightly between the top of her tongue and the roof of her mouth.  One of those pacifier gags!  Granny must have forced one in her while she was drugged and asleep.

A dream. Just a dream. Or a memory. It was hard to tell.  She was still in the same fuzzy pajamas.  

She sat up and allowed her senses to adjust to the stillness and the dark. Nursery music, something docile and composed primarily of xylophones tinkled in through what she thought of as the baby monitor. It had no lyrics, but somehow she could tell that the melody was a soothing low tempo version of ‘Hickory Dickory Dock”.

She didn’t know how she knew that except yes she did.  It was a song she’d heard all the time as a child.  If only she knew which childhood she was referencing.

That had all been a dream. She hadn’t lost any more time beyond however many hours of sleep. The cooling mass beneath her signaled that the messing part of her dream had been very real. The rest of the dream had been her brain interpreting different incomplete sensory inputs.  

Her thumb kept going back into her mouth because the old giantess had gagged her in her sleep.  Teasing herself had been unsuccessful in part, because dream body lacked the extra layer that her real one hand been been wrapped up in.  She could dream about masturbating all she wanted, but her unconscious hands were nowhere near as dexterous as she imagined them, and it was difficult to feel anything with all of these fleece covering her.

The orgasmic rash cream hadn’t been applied at all.  What did it say about her that she dreamed about it.  Did she want it to happen? Did she want the excuse? The excuse to fail? The excuse to succumb?

The sound of rapid crinkling, like two packages of M&Ms being rubbed together, caught Christy’s attention.

Her eyes focused and scanned the room.  Drew lay limply in his crib, snoring, peacefully.  Granny, she remembered, had taken him out and gave him some kind of dose so that he was comatose. She’d also been mean spirited enough to move a desperately horny Brittney into the same crib as Tyler and gagged Christy to keep her from objecting.

Record scratch.

Discombobulation.

Confusion.

That was last night, wasn’t it? Not tonight. They’d all gone to sleep in their separate cribs.  They’d tried to escape since then.  Christy couldn’t remember when or what they’d done, but she was almost certain that that had been the plan.  They’d been here longer than that.

But if that was so, why were two very familiar outlines grinding on top of each other in the very same baby bed?   

Betrayal!

They wiggled on top of each other. Brittney sat on top of Tyler’s diaper area, grinding and thrusting into one another. Sucking their thumbs muted their ecstatic cries, but it didn’t reduce the sound of diapers sounding off with every bump and grind.

“Shhhh,” Brittney’s voice came in crystal clear over the snoring and the piped in lullaby. She wasn’t nearly as quiet as she thought she was..  “Don’t wake them.” Even though he kept his thumb in his mouth, Christy could still make out Tyler’s quiet, obedient nod.

Cheaters!

Fiends!

Ersatz companions!

False friends!

The voices of reason in Christy’s mind feebly tried to give them an out.  They weren’t in their right minds.  Tyler was brainwashed so he couldn’t talk, and both of them had an overwhelming libido forced onto them.

Except what if that part was a faulty memory too?  Did it even fucking matter?  

Fuck this

No point.

Get out.

Like a coiled snake, she waited in the darkness, her boiling blood preventing her from reclaiming sleep. Good thing she didn’t want to sleep.  She laid still, biting her tongue watching the act unfold again and again and again.  Once or twice, Drew rolled over in his sleep and the cheating pair stopped.

Poor Drew. Toothless and drugged so that he was dead to the world.  If only Christy could be so ignorant.

It was easy enough to tell when they’d finished. Christy watched her best friend roll off Tyler and go back to the far end of the bed. Tyler’s breathing had slowed dramatically and he was snoring in seconds.  Meanwhile,  Brittney was stuck clumsily rubbing and teasing herself.  The crinkling of her diaper in the quiet room did not lie. Tyler’s penis had failed to penetrate the thick padding encasing both of their loins to her satisfaction.

Pft. Penis.  Tyler probably didn’t have a penis. No such thing. That was probably another made up dream word she’d imagined in her sleep.

As things stood, it should have been impossible for any of the babies to escape.  Even if pure athleticism allowed one of them to compensate for the massive diapers throwing their gait off and weighing them down, the baby gate remained and would be impossible to scale without help and the prerequisite communication required to coordinate would surely be overheard.

Yet crazy and unexpected was what Christy did.  Sometimes she didn’t even understand herself.

Under the cover of darkness she scrambled up the headboard of her crib and perched on it like a gargoyle. Without thinking about it she hurled herself forward through the air and quietly crashed on top of the room’s changing table. Hers was the farthest away from another crib, but the closest to the changing table.  And the changing table was the closest to the door.

Adrenaline still surging, Christy rocketed herself out into the black abyss.

WHAM!

She belly flopped painfully onto the baby gate, her own forward momentum causing her to flip over and blind luck helped her skid down the other side with just enough friction to stop from breaking anything. She lacked the willpower and presence of mind to scream out, but the inflated ball gag did a sufficient job at muffling the sound.

Christy laid in the dark hallway laboring to catch her breath and unable to breathe through her mouth.  A flash of warmth in her diaper informed her that she’d wet herself again.  With how quickly the warmth faded and how her diaper felt no wetter from the inside, Christy assumed that she’d either wet only a little or that she was soaked to the point of not noticing the difference; probably the latter.

Escape.

How to escape?

Christy didn’t know. The entire house was child-proofed.  She knew from memory that the kitchen had no knives or other sharp objects within reach.  Everything was behind a very sturdy child-proof lock.  It was doubtful she’d be able to get to the kitchen anyways. The baby gate to the playroom blocked her and there was no way she’d get as lucky as she did in the nursery twice in one night.  

The closest she’d be able to get would be the front door.  

Hey!  The front door! She’d never seen the front door of this place. Having come in through the garage and confined to the playroom, kitchen, and the nursery most of the time, the front door was little more than a panel of wood with a door knob that zipped by a few precious times a day.

A precious doorknob WITHOUT any kind of child safety lock or latch.

Hope?

Delusion?

Both?

Probably both.

She slowly waddled in starts and stops down the hall and to the house’s front entranceway.  Every rustling step made her skin crawl, and eyes refused to blink.  Too loud! Her diaper was too loud!  

In a way, that was proof that Christy wasn’t as much of a baby as her memories might have implied.  Had she really been in diapers all her life, would she really be so concerned about their sound?  One would think the plastic-like static sound with every step would become something unnoticeable to a baby, practically white noise.  The fact that the sound was so intrusive to her and caused her such worry was proof beyond what her artificial thoughts could explain.

That kind of sounded like something Tyler might say.

Fuck Tyler.  

She might come back for Drew if she could, but never Tyler.  Never Brittney.  They could have each other.  That cream messed with their vaginas, not their brains. Made them like diapers, not each other.  

As far as Christy was concerned they could have one another.

A full fifteen minutes later of (perhaps) unnecessarily slow walking and waiting, Christy arrived at the front door.  Her eyes were more than adjusted to the dark by now, her ears fully accustomed to the stillness.  She looked up and saw the knob just out of reach.

Had she not had the pacifier stuck insider jaw, she would have grit her teeth in frustration. No way to reach or meaningfully grip the knob.  The locking mechanism was visible above but it was well out of reach. Perhaps it was a good thing.

Trying to keep calm, she inhaled and exhaled slowly as she could and tried to scan the immediate area looking for an opportunity.  There was no furniture nearby that she could climb or move.  Nothing to grab or manipulate.

Maybe she could hide, she wondered. Get low on all fours and hide somewhere in plain sight.  Then sprint out between Granny’s legs if and when she opened the door to look.  Or better yet, Granny might be the kind to rise early and get the morning paper from the front door before she woke the babies up.

Christy’s eyes drifted downward and she noticed something.  

A door within a door. A heavy flap at the bottom. A doggy door!  How had she missed that before?  Probably because of the angle.

Ambition!

Desperation!

BOTH!

DEFINITELY BOTH!

Christy dropped to all fours, lowered her head, and plowed through!  Her head breached and it was as if she were born again!  The sound of chirping crickets was a symphony to her ears. The feeling of outside air a balm to her skin!

Freedom!

Free!

….

Stuck!

Trapped!

Panic!

Christy got no further than halfway out the tiny door.  Like something out of Dahl or Carroll her escape hatch had swelled shut and clamped down around her wait. She might have thought that her diaper had impossibly swelled save for the clamp was firmly around her middle and not her waist.  

No!

Not like this!  

She was so close, too!

The sound of quiet, self-satisfied laughter came from behind the door. Christy screamed, but her pacifier gag made it all come out as nothing more than a baby’s happy gurgling.

CAUGHT!

DOOMED!

Hair in curlers and without her glasses, Granny held the girl out at arms length. “Christy?” she said, sounding surprised.  “Well dang. I would’ve thought Drew would have tried the doggy door first. Oh well. Live and learn. Live and learn.”  Her smile was positively poisonous.  “Except for babies!” she chirped.

It’s a good thing that Christy wasn’t good with words when she was so overwhelmed, because they would have been wasted.  She asked no questions; didn’t wonder where she was being taken to.  She simply kicked air and with bootied feet and impotently scratched with mittened hands.

Granny high-stepped over the gate into the living room and took the panicking, screaming girl with her. The switching on of kitchen lights was akin to a flare to Christy’s night adjusted eyes.  The world was too bright again. She only knew that Granny stopped by her refrigerator from the sound of it opening and closing. She knew the old monster bent over from tactile sensory input more than

“Don’t worry, dear.  Don’t worry.  Granny’s gotcha.”

That was exactly what Christy was worried about.  As impossible as it was for Christy to undo the buttons on her snap-in pajamas, it was a matter of second nature.  Granny resumed humming that little ditty she’d been singing to herself when they’d first me.  “Pick me up…I cry…please change me.”

The lyrics to that song took on a horrible new meaning.  It wasn’t written from the point of view of an actual baby. It was from someone like her. Someone forced to wear diapers and be treated as a baby, getting upset at their inability to do something as simple as use the toilet anymore. The word “change” had a double meaning too.

She kicked and kicked and kicked, turned over in Granny’s lap as she was. If she was going to get another spanking, best to make the giant old bitch work for it.

“If you’re good, I’ll give you some of the special cream…” Granny tempted her.

The temptation slowed her just enough for Granny to strike true. Christy felt the needle’s jab into the back of her naked thigh. The pinch went away and Granny repositioned her so that she was sitting down.  “Look, Christy! Look at your legs!”

Christy stared down, her vision re-adjusted to the light.  She inhaled sharply, looking at her legs. Her flesh rippled briefly like water on a lake. Naturally toned muscle degraded and atrophied before her eyes. A click, a hiss, and Christy’s audible gasp came next while Granny removed the pacifier. Unblinking, Christy watched her legs start to fill back out, going from withered and near skeleton to something that could best be described as slightly chubby.  It was like all the muscles in her legs had been drained and reduced, and in their palace was…what? Baby fat?

Christy moved her legs. They felt incredibly heavy. She was incredibly weak.  Christy was never going to be able to walk again.

“Don’t worry,” Granny said, tenderly. “The swelling is normal. After a few hours, they’ll go back down and you’ll hardly notice the difference.

Mouth still agape, Christy looked up to Granny to say something particularly foul. The giantess took that opening to slip a foam filled mouthpiece over Christy’s teeth and then re-gag her.  “Might as well get this over with while the others are all asleep, dearie.”

A tingling burning sensation started to stoke up and invade Christy’s gumline.

While the pain was just starting, Christy was carried over to the phone. “I want it off…I cry…please change me!” Granny sang. She picked up the receiver. “Hello? Operator? I’ve got a very naughty LIttle girl that thinks she can talk back to me.  Do you mind?  Thank you!”  

The phone was put up to Christy’s ear.  A single tear dripped down her cheek.  Part of her hoped the next cartoon would make her forget everything.  The other part of her hoped that she was good enough to at least get some special cream after her next diaper change and an extra warm bottle of milk