Ivy forced herself to stand, her breath shallow as she took in the next challenge. The course ahead seemed deceptively simple — a straight path leading forward through a chaotic maze of leaping water fountains and oversized buckets suspended overhead, each tilting ominously as they prepared to dump their contents on anyone unlucky enough to pass beneath them. Jets of water arced through the air in unpredictable bursts, crashing down on the path like liquid hammers. The sound of splashing and sputtering filled the air as the first few contestants began pushing their way through.

It looked straightforward enough — endure the sprays, dodge the buckets, and get to the other side. But Ivy knew better. Something about it felt wrong. Her gaze shifted to the side, noticing an alternative route — a longer path that snaked around the chaotic waterworks. It seemed safer, quieter — far less drenched than the gauntlet before her. But that was what made her hesitate. Why offer such a clear advantage? Mistress never did anything without reason.

“Finn,” she whispered urgently, grabbing his arm as he moved toward the chaotic center course.

He stopped, blinking at her in surprise. “What?”

“That path,” Ivy said, pointing to the alternative route. “It’s longer, but... something’s wrong with this one. Trust me.”

Finn hesitated, glancing from her to the spray of fountains and dumping buckets ahead. His brow furrowed in doubt, but after only a brief pause, he nodded. “Alright... Let’s go.”

Together, they turned toward the longer path, Ivy’s heart racing. The moment they veered away, she caught sight of the contestants ahead of them charging through the chaotic waterworks. The first few were already soaked, their bloated diapers sagging dangerously low beneath their swimsuits. Each blast of water drenched them further, the padding swelling visibly as the absorbent material clung greedily to every drop.

One contestant — a wiry boy Ivy vaguely remembered from the early trials — staggered awkwardly as a bucket dumped its contents directly over his head. His swollen diaper ballooned instantly, bulging grotesquely around his thighs. He stumbled, his legs splaying wide in an attempt to walk, and then Ivy saw it — the diaper had swollen so large that the boy waddled like he was riding an invisible horse. Each awkward step forced his thighs even wider apart, the swollen padding squishing and sagging like a waterlogged sponge beneath him.

His foot slipped, and with a yelp, he landed heavily on his backside. His face twisted in confusion and panic as he struggled to stand — but his legs barely moved. The bloated diaper, now swollen beyond reason, locked his thighs in a place like a vice. His frantic writhing only made things worse, and when he finally realized his helplessness, he groaned and flipped over to his hands and knees, forced to crawl if he wanted to make any progress at all.

Ivy’s stomach clenched at the sight, but she pressed on, forcing her gaze back to the longer path. It twisted back and forth between padded platforms and dry, colorful obstacles. It was slower — undeniably slower — but it was dry, and that alone filled Ivy with relief. She and Finn hurried forward, keeping their steps steady, carefully balancing their swollen diapers between each movement. Ivy felt her bloated padding shifting thickly with each step, the saturated material squishing heavily between her legs. It was still manageable — barely — but she knew it wouldn’t take much more before her mobility crumbled.

Glancing back toward the chaotic spray, Ivy grimaced as she saw another contestant flop heavily to the ground, his diaper swollen so wide that his knees couldn’t even touch. The poor boy flailed helplessly, limbs writhing in awkward jerks, trying in vain to crawl forward. His face burned red with effort, his eyes wet with frustration.

Ivy swallowed hard, dread curling in her chest. That could have been me…

Finn grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward. “Come on,” he urged, his voice tight. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”

They pressed on, their swollen diapers squelching audibly with each step. Ivy fought the growing ache in her legs, her thighs chafing painfully against the soggy bulk that clung to her skin. Each breath was sharp and shallow; her nerves coiled tight as she fought to keep moving.

Ivy stumbled forward, her breath ragged and chest heaving as she and Finn staggered out of the last obstacle. The ground beneath her feet felt both solid and unsteady, her muscles weak from exhaustion. The endless squish of her swollen diaper — each step punctuated by that loathsome, damp press — made her skin crawl. Ivy risked a glance back, her heart thumping painfully against her ribs. She scanned the course behind them, her eyes flicking from one contestant to the next.

Where’s Clara?

The thought twisted her stomach. She hadn’t seen her since the lazy river, and now there was no sign of her among the exhausted bodies dragging themselves through the course. Ivy’s pulse quickened, but she forced herself to breathe. Focus, she told herself. One step at a time. You can’t help Clara if you don’t finish first.

She turned back to the final obstacle and felt her stomach drop.

The wave pool stretched out before them like a vast churning ocean — massive, deep, and merciless. The water shifted in restless swells, the surface glinting beneath the overhead lights. On the far side stood the finish platform — a raised deck of dry concrete marked clearly with banners and blinking lights. It wasn’t far, but between them lay the thrashing pool, rising and falling in unpredictable pulses. 

Then, without warning, mechanical arms snatched Ivy from behind.

She yelped, her arms flailing instinctively as the cold, metallic limbs wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground. The arms twisted and maneuvered her as if she were weightless, her legs dangling helplessly before they were guided through the openings of an enormous, infantile inner tube. It was absurdly oversized, cartoonishly decorated with bright pink frills and smiling flowers, and worse yet — the padded seat built into the middle swallowed her rear, cupping her thick diaper in a humiliating cradle.

“Wait — no, no, no!” Ivy squirmed, her face burning as the arms tugged the pink life vest snugly over her torso. The straps clicked between her legs, securing her firmly in place. Her bulging swim diaper pressed tightly against the padded seat, the slick warmth squishing beneath her with every movement.

Finn, still catching his breath, barely had time to react before he, too, was seized; the arms dragged him into a matching blue version of the same ridiculous float. He was plopped down next to Ivy, looking just as embarrassed, his face red beneath the glaring lights.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Finn muttered, giving his float a frustrated shake.

Ivy barely heard him. Her mind had already locked onto the next terrifying truth — their bloated diapers were about to be fully submerged, and if hers swelled even a fraction larger, there was no way she’d be able to walk once she reached the other side.

This wasn’t just a race — it was a trap.

Contestants surged forward into the water, the room filling with splashing and grunts of effort as they floundered in their oversized floats. Ivy forced herself to move, pushing through the shallows as the cold water lapped at her thighs. She groaned as her diaper instantly grew heavier, swelling as it drank the water greedily. The bulk pressed tighter against her, forcing her gait even wider.

Ivy stumbled forward, half-running, half-stumbling until the water rose past her waist and her toes finally lost contact with the floor. Her inner tube lifted her easily, bobbing with the rising waves. Her arms flailed for balance, gripping the slick plastic handles on the float’s sides. The water sloshed beneath her, currents tugging her in unexpected directions, but Ivy forced her legs to kick — awkwardly at first, splashing more than anything, but gradually she found her rhythm.

The water surged, rocking her float wildly as the pool’s wave generator kicked in fully. Sudden swells pitched contestants back and forth, some spinning in helpless circles, others being pushed violently against the pool’s padded walls. Ivy gritted her teeth, paddling hard to keep her float steady.

The cool, chlorinated water crept further up her body, sloshing over her lap, her diaper drinking in more with every splash. Ivy felt the padding swelling inside her swimsuit — growing thicker, tighter — the soggy bulk pressing insistently against her thighs. The swollen mass began to shift and sag, pulling uncomfortably against her hips.

Panic flared, but she forced herself to focus.

“Ivy!” Finn’s voice rang out. She spotted him just ahead, thrashing his way forward, his float tugging awkwardly behind him. “Almost there!”

Ivy gritted her teeth, panic knotting tightly in her chest as her legs flailed weakly behind her. The swollen bulk of her diaper had grown impossibly heavy, dragging her down with each desperate kick. The padding had bloated so thick that her legs splayed awkwardly, forced wide apart, and nearly useless in the water. The cursed inner tube — snug around her waist like an anchor — made it impossible to move her arms properly, leaving her helpless to do more than weakly paddle and thrash. The waves crashed against her face, stinging her eyes and filling her mouth with bitter, chlorinated water. She coughed, sputtering, before forcing her head above the surface again.

The finish line blurred in her vision — distant, distorted by her exhaustion and the constant spray of water. Contestants bobbed around her, some crying out, others cursing as they battled the waves. Somewhere ahead, Finn struggled to push forward, his face strained and determined. She saw him glance back, scanning for her, and his eyes locked on her own. He waved frantically — urging her forward — but his voice was drowned out beneath the crashing waves.

I can’t stop now... I can’t stop now…

Ivy forced her legs to move, her thighs burning as she fought to propel herself forward. Each kick felt weaker than the last, and the swollen mass between her legs was a constant drag. The padding clung to her skin, bloated and saturated, every movement forcing the slick, sticky bulk to squish and shift beneath her. The cold fabric hugged her tightly, molding itself to her as if swallowing her whole.

Another wave hit, slamming into her side and spinning her inner tube. Ivy gasped, her fingers slipping from the slick plastic handles as the world twisted violently. Her legs thrashed beneath her, kicking uselessly as she fought to stay upright. Water filled her ears, muffling everything — her pulse hammering in her skull as she tried to find her bearings.

The ramp... where’s the ramp?!

Ivy forced her eyes open, blinking against the spray. There — just ahead — the padded ramp jutted out from the water, sloping upward toward the finish platform. It wasn’t far, but she knew she was out of time — her body felt weak, her muscles trembling with fatigue. Her swollen diaper seemed to weigh her down more with every second, the waterlogged bulk pulling her deeper into the water.

Just a little more... just a little more…

She flailed toward the ramp, her fingertips scraping against the rough padding. Ivy clawed at it, dragging herself closer as her legs refused to move. Her thighs had gone numb, her muscles locked and trembling. The bulk of her diaper bulged beneath her like a wet sandbag, sagging low and heavy. Each drag forward squeezed the mass tightly between her legs, squishing and shifting like a swollen sponge.

The ramp’s incline threatened to pull her back into the water, and for a terrible moment, she thought she wouldn’t make it. Her arms buckled, her body trembling with exhaustion. Her chin hit the padded surface, her breath escaping in a ragged sob.

No... no…

Ivy clenched her teeth, forcing her arm to reach forward one last time — her fingers curling tightly around a metal rung built into the ramp. She grunted, digging her elbows into the padding as she heaved herself upward, dragging her bloated diaper behind her. Her legs scraped against the ramp, and her thighs were forced painfully wide by the swollen mass.

Just a little more…

The bell rang sharply and clearly, a triumphant chime that barely pierced the fog in her mind. Ivy flopped onto her side, her cheek pressed against the cool, rubbery padding. Her chest heaved, and her limbs were limp and shaking. The air felt too thick and heavy to breathe.

Her diaper pressed tightly against her, an unbearable squish filling her senses. The sodden bulk clung to her skin like a wet blanket, every shift and breath reminding her of just how helpless she’d been — how ridiculous she must have looked crawling to the finish. Her face burned beneath the damp strands of hair plastered to her forehead.

More bells rang out as other contestants reached the platform. She barely registered Finn’s voice, faint and distant, calling her name. She felt his hand grip her arm, warm and steady.

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and tired. “You made it.”

Ivy closed her eyes, too spent to respond. She wasn’t sure if the relief she felt were because she’d finished... or because she knew she wouldn’t have to move for a while.

Finn knelt beside her, breathless and soaked from head to toe, his drenched hair plastered against his forehead. Water dripped steadily from his sagging one-piece swimsuit, trailing down his face and arms in thin rivulets. His diaper, grotesquely swollen beneath him, bulged out like a bloated sponge, forcing his knees awkwardly apart as he tried to steady himself. Despite his discomfort, his hand found Ivy’s shoulder, gripping her tightly as he gently nudged her onto her back.

Ivy groaned softly, barely able to move. Her body felt like lead — her limbs numb, her muscles twitching weakly. The bloated mass between her legs lifted her hips awkwardly off the ground, her midsection propped high by the thick, sodden padding. Her legs splayed wide, completely beyond her control, her thighs burning from the effort of dragging herself this far. The diaper sagged heavily, squishing against her skin with every shallow breath. She could feel the wetness seeping through the outer layers, clinging to her like a cold, clammy second skin.

Finn’s face hovered above her, etched with concern. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and hoarse.

Ivy barely managed to nod. Her eyes drifted closed, and her chest heaved. The noise of the trial still echoed in her ears—the chaotic splashes and the gasping cries of other contestants—but those sounds were fading now, distant and muffled.

And then, the buzzer.

It blared loud and sharp, cutting through the air like a hammer striking metal. The waves stilled instantly, the surge of water calming into a lifeless pool. The waterworks sputtered and hissed before ceasing altogether. The deafening silence that followed seemed unnatural — as if the very room itself had been frozen in place.

For a moment, Ivy’s mind filled with relief — It’s over... it’s finally over…

But then came the voices. Desperate cries rang out from the course behind them — faint at first, then louder, sharper. Panicked voices shouting for help.

“Wait... WAIT!”

“Somebody! PLEASE!”

“Help! Don’t — DON’T!”

Ivy’s breath hitched in her chest, and her eyes snapped open. Finn stiffened beside her, turning toward the sound. The cries were frantic now — full of fear — and then came the sound of mechanical gears grinding to life. A deep, metallic groan filled the air, like rusted machinery awakening from slumber. The floor vibrated faintly beneath Ivy’s back, and the faint sound of churning motors filled her ears.

And then... silence.

The cries stopped. No voices. No footsteps. Just... nothing.

Ivy’s blood turned to ice. She strained to sit up, her waterlogged diaper squishing beneath her. “What... what was that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know...” Finn murmured, his eyes locked on the now-still water. His face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly.

The other contestants on the platform had gathered closer now, shifting uneasily and exchanging worried glances. No one spoke, and no one dared move. The silence dragged on, heavy and oppressive. The air felt thicker and hotter as if the room itself were holding its breath.

And then, Mistress’s voice slithered through the speakers.

“Oh dear...” she purred, her tone syrupy sweet. “It seems some of our precious babies just... couldn’t keep up. Tsk tsk... Such a shame.” She gave a mock sigh, exaggerated and theatrical. “Well... they won’t be needing their cribs tonight, will they?”

Ivy felt cold dread grip her spine. She glanced at Finn, her breath catching in her throat. His face was hard now, his eyes dark. Neither of them spoke.

Mistress’s voice returned, her words laced with cruel delight. “The rest of you... congratulations. You’ve survived the sixth trial. But you should be very, very careful going forward... You wouldn’t want to disappoint me.” Her voice lingered on that last word, her tone sharpening into something cold and sharp.

And then the speakers clicked off, plunging the room back into dreadful silence.

Ivy felt her stomach churn, bile rising in her throat. She stared out at the water, dark and still beneath the dim lights. Somewhere out there — somewhere in that maze of tubes, waves, and traps — the contestants who hadn’t finished were... gone. Taken.

The screen flickered to life with a deafening THUNK, the metallic sound reverberating through the room like a judge’s gavel striking wood. Ivy’s head jerked up toward the screen, her breath frozen in her chest. The display flashed once, the prize pool ticking upward in steady increments — $2,150,000… $2,200,000… $2,300,000. The numbers glowed bright and bold against the darkened room, the reality of that sum hanging heavy in the air. But Ivy’s gaze didn’t linger on the money — her eyes locked on the rows of numbers and labels scrolling just below the jackpot.

Contestant numbers, names were stripped away long ago and reduced to simple cold identifiers. Each number stood beside one of two titles: Caregiver or Baby. The list scrolled slowly, deliberate in its cruelty.

Ivy swallowed, her pulse racing. She scanned frantically, her mind a blur. Where was she? Where was her number?

And then… she found it.

Contestant 24 — Caregiver.

For a moment, she simply stared at it, uncomprehending. Her mind seemed to stutter — as if the relief was too much for her to process all at once. The word — Caregiver — practically glowed in her vision. The letters stood stark and defiant, a beacon of hope amid the storm. She wasn’t a baby. She wasn’t a baby. She wasn’t a baby!

A laugh erupted from her chest — loud, giddy, and uncontrollable. It spilled out of her in great, gasping bursts, the tension of the last several days unraveling all at once. Ivy clutched her stomach, her body still too weak to move properly, but she didn’t care. Tears blurred her vision as she laughed, overwhelmed and breathless. She had done it — she had actually done it. She had made it to the top third. She was a caregiver again!

“I did it...” she gasped, her voice breaking with the weight of her relief. “I actually... I did it...”

Ivy wiped her eyes, barely suppressing another laugh. She could scarcely believe it. No more pacifiers locked in her mouth. No more mittens trapping her hands. No more helpless crawling, no more humiliating displays for an audience of strangers. She could move. She could speak. She could choose again.

But the relief that flooded her veins was tinged with something else—something darker. Ivy’s gaze flicked back to the screen.

Nine contestants left and only three caregivers.

Her stomach twisted. She counted the names — only once, then again, and again, as though the numbers might change if she stared long enough. Nine. Only nine. So many faces were gone — faces she had known, even if only briefly. Clara... was Clara still here?

Her gaze darted downward, scanning the list again — searching desperately for her friend’s number. And there it was:

Contestant 20 — Baby.

Ivy’s heart sank. Clara had lost, but she was still in the game. Clara would still be a baby. Trapped in those humiliating outfits, subjected to whatever cruel punishments Mistress devised, vulnerable and helpless. The memory of Clara’s face, streaked with tears as her pacifier locked in place, flashed behind Ivy’s eyes.

Three caregivers. Six babies. Those odds weren’t comforting — they were terrifying.

Ivy shivered, still damp from the water, her bloated diaper sagging heavily beneath her. The weight between her legs was a miserable reminder of how thin the line between ‘caregiver’ and ‘baby’ really was. She had escaped — but barely. Whatever trial awaited them next, she knew Mistress would be crueler. The line she had crossed was razor-thin, and if she slipped even once, she’d be right back in the same humiliating position.