Chapter 38 — Babies’ New Life

Mommy worked with swift, practiced hands, securing the fresh diaper around Elara’s hips, the crinkling sound filling the quiet room as the tabs were pulled tight. Elara squirmed slightly on the changing table, the clean padding a small relief against her sore skin, but her discomfort was far from over. To her half-surprise, Mommy reached for a full-body onesie from a nearby shelf, the pastel fabric adorned with infantile patterns that made Elara’s stomach churn with renewed humiliation. The inflated pacifier bulged in her mouth, muffling any attempt at protest as Mommy began to dress her.

“Hold still,” Mommy muttered, sliding Elara’s legs into the soft material and tugging it up over her torso. The onesie hugged her tightly as the snaps were fastened along the crotch, trapping the diaper snugly in place.

Elara’s eyes darted to the side, catching sight of Quinn on the adjacent changing table. Her friend was in a near-identical situation—freshly changed from her messy diaper, a pacifier stuffed in her mouth with its bulb inflated to silence her, and Daddy fitting her into a similar full-body onesie. Quinn’s cheeks burned red beneath the pacifier, her eyes downcast as the final snaps were secured with a series of faint clicks.

“There we go,” Daddy said gruffly, stepping back to inspect his work before lifting Quinn off the table. “All ready for bed.”

Mommy finished with Elara, giving the onesie one last tug to ensure it was secure before scooping her up into her arms. “Nice and cozy now,” she cooed mockingly, cradling Elara against her shoulder as she carried her back to the crib. The pacifier bobbed in Elara’s mouth with each step, the forced silence amplifying every rustle of the diaper and swish of the onesie.

She was lowered gently into the crib, the soft mattress yielding under her weight as Mommy adjusted the blankets around her. Beside her, Quinn was placed in the same crib by Daddy, their matching outfits and gagged mouths making them look like helpless twins. The bars of the crib loomed high above them, sealing their confinement as they lay there side by side.

“No fussing,” Mommy warned, leaning over to adjust the blanket over both girls. “You’ve had enough trouble for one day. Sleep tight.” Her tone carried a sharp edge beneath the false sweetness, a clear reminder of who held all the control.

Daddy flicked off the main light, leaving only a dim nightlight casting faint shadows across the room. “We’ll deal with any more nonsense in the morning,” he added sternly before turning to follow Mommy out of the dorm.

The door clicked shut behind them, leaving Elara and Quinn alone in the suffocating quiet. The pacifiers prevented even whispered words of comfort between them, though their eyes met briefly—wide with shared shame and exhaustion. Trapped together in this infantilized state, they could only wait for whatever tomorrow would bring.

Elara lay in the dim glow of the nightlight, the crib feeling like a prison as the memories of her early days at Littlewick flooded back. Those first weeks under Mommy’s iron grip had been suffocating, every action dictated, every shred of independence stripped away. Now, trapped in the infantilizing onesie and gagged by the pacifier, it felt like a cruel return to that helplessness. Her only small mercy was the lack of swaddling—though even that reprieve was tainted. As she shifted slightly, testing her limited range of motion, she realized the joints of the onesie had been stiffened somehow, the fabric resisting her every move. Each attempt to bend an arm or leg was a struggle, the material pulling taut and forcing her into awkward, restricted positions.

The room was filled with the faint, pitiful sounds of their shared plight. The rustle of their diapers and the creak of the crib mattress underscored their futile efforts to find comfort, while the soft, involuntary sucking noises from nursing on the pacifiers added a layer of indignity to the silence.

Quinn broke first. Her soft whimpers started low, muffled by the pacifier, but they grew into quiet sobs that pierced through Elara’s chest. It hurt more than the physical discomfort—the inability to reach out, to offer even a word of solace to the girl who had been through hell alongside her. Quinn had been her rock, her confidante in this nightmare of Littlewick, always there with quiet support or a shared glance of understanding during their worst moments. Now, seeing her crumble and being unable to do anything about it shattered something deep inside Elara.

Her own tears came soon after, hot and silent at first as they slipped down her cheeks. She tried to hold them back, to stay strong if only for herself, but the weight of it all—the humiliation, the confinement, the loss of control—was too much. Soft sobs shook her frame within the stiff confines of the onesie, muffled by the pacifier but no less raw. The exhaustion of the day clung to her like a heavy fog; her body ached from the spanking, her mind reeled from the endless degradations. Eventually, the crying tapered off into shallow hiccups as unconsciousness mercifully claimed her, dragging her into a restless sleep where even dreams offered little escape from the reality waiting on the other side.

Elara’s dreams dragged her into a surreal, humiliating haze, far from the restful escape she craved. She found herself seated in some kind of contraption, moving through a vibrant park where the grass and trees shimmered unnaturally, their colors twisting and bleeding into each other like wet paint. It took a disorienting moment to realize she was strapped into a baby harness, pressed snugly against Mommy’s chest. The woman’s breasts cushioned her head with every step, an intimate and smothering closeness that made Elara’s skin crawl even in this dreamlike state.

The park buzzed with life—faceless figures strolled along winding paths, their murmurs a distant hum as they passed by. Children’s laughter echoed somewhere nearby, sharp and mocking to Elara’s ears. As the realization of her surroundings sank in, so did the mortifying truth of her appearance. She was dressed in nothing but a thick, squishy diaper, the weight of it sagging heavily between her legs, unmistakably soiled. The familiar crinkle and warmth pressed against her with every subtle shift of the harness, amplified by the dream’s cruel clarity. In her mouth, a pacifier bobbed rhythmically as she nursed on it involuntarily, the bulb filling her mouth just as it had in reality.

She tried to shrink into herself, to hide from the countless eyes that seemed to linger on her exposed state, but the harness held her firmly in place, on full display for anyone who cared to look. Every step Mommy took bounced her slightly, making the diaper squish audibly beneath her—a sound that seemed deafening in the warped logic of the dream. The faceless crowd didn’t point or laugh outright, but their gazes felt like pinpricks, stripping away any shred of dignity as they whispered words she couldn’t quite hear.

“Look at my sweet little one,” Mommy’s voice cooed above her, loud enough to carry over the park’s ambient noise. Her tone dripped with exaggerated affection, each word laced with a taunt.

Elara’s cheeks burned hotter than the dream-sun overhead, her muffled whimpers trapped behind the pacifier as she squirmed uselessly against the straps. The diaper clung tighter with every movement, while Mommy’s hands adjusted the harness casually, patting her padded bottom for emphasis.

“Shh, no fussing now,” she chided softly, bouncing Elara lightly as if to soothe her, though it only made the mess shift more uncomfortably. “Everyone loves seeing how cute you are.”

The words twisted in Elara’s gut, shame blooming fresh even in this unconscious realm. The park stretched endlessly before them, more eyes turning her way with every passing second, and there was no waking up from this particular nightmare—not yet.

Elara’s dream spiraled deeper into mortification as she felt Mommy’s hands lift her from the harness, the sudden movement making the heavy, squishy diaper shift beneath her. Then came the exaggerated sniff near her bottom, followed by Mommy’s voice, loud and singsong for all to hear in the crowded park. “Uh-oh! Looks like someone made a poopies!” Her hand pressed against Elara’s bum, deliberately mushing the mess around through the padding, amplifying the sensation and drawing a muffled whimper from behind the pacifier.

“Let’s get that taken care of,” Mommy declared cheerfully, striding purposefully toward a park table smack in the middle of countless families. Picnics and laughter surrounded them as heads turned, curious eyes lingering on the scene unfolding. Elara’s heart raced with dread—was she really going to…? No… she couldn’t possibly…

But she was.

Elara gasped as she was laid flat on the rough wooden surface of the picnic table, hundreds of people milling about, some openly staring now as Mommy nonchalantly spread out changing supplies beside her. A fresh diaper, wipes, and powder were arranged with casual efficiency while Elara thrashed weakly. “Nooooo!!!” she tried to scream, but the pacifier garbled it into a pathetic, muffled whine that drew even more attention.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Mommy said with a wide smile, patting her thigh as if to soothe her. “I’ll get you in a fresh diaper in no time!” Her fingers tugged at the tabs of the soiled diaper, peeling them open with a loud ripping sound. The cute cartoon characters printed on the front stared up mockingly as the diaper unfolded, exposing her to the open air and countless prying eyes and—

Elara jolted awake, her breath hitching as reality snapped back into focus. She wasn’t in a park surrounded by strangers. She was in Littlewick, confined within the familiar bars of the oversized crib. But something was still off.

It took her a groggy moment to process her position—she was lying across Mommy’s lap right there in the crib, the woman’s warm presence looming over her. A gentle hand stroked her cheek, and before Elara could fully register what was happening, the inflated pacifier was removed from her mouth with a soft pop.

Relief at its absence lasted only a second. Then, without warning, something soft and fleshy pressed against her lips—a bare breast, warm and heavy. Elara’s eyes widened in shock as she realized it was Mommy’s tit pushed into her mouth. Sweet, warm milk leaked from it almost immediately, coating her tongue as Mommy’s hand cradled the back of her head.

“There we go,” Mommy cooed softly, her voice low and intimate now. “Drink up, sweetheart. You need this after such a long night.”

Elara froze for a moment, torn between revulsion and confusion, but the gentle pressure of Mommy’s hand kept her in place. The milk flowed steadily—too sweet, too warm—and despite herself, instinct kicked in as her lips closed around it. Each reluctant suck drew more into her mouth while Mommy hummed approvingly above her.

“That’s it,” she murmured encouragingly. “Just like a good little baby should.”

The words made Elara’s cheeks burn hotter than ever as she lay there trapped in the surreal moment—half from lingering dream shame and half from this very real humiliation unfolding now. The onesie still restricted her movements; Quinn’s soft breathing nearby hinted she might still be asleep or enduring her own quiet torment. All Elara could do was submit to the forced nursing, each swallow feeling like another layer of control stripped away under Mommy’s watchful gaze.

Before she could fully process the forced nursing, Mommy’s hand moved lower, patting the front of Elara’s diaper with a deliberate, teasing touch. The material squished under her fingers—wet, cold, and clammy against Elara’s skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the milk filling her tummy. The sensation made her squirm in discomfort, trapped in the confines of the stiff onesie and Mommy’s unyielding lap.

“Such a good girl,” Mommy cooed, her grin wide and triumphant as she gave the diaper another gentle pat. “Using your diapers while you sleep… Mommy is very proud of you, princess.”

Elara’s blush deepened, spreading like wildfire across her face and down her neck. The cloyingly sweet milk continued to pour into her mouth, heavy and filling, bloating her stomach with every reluctant swallow. It did nothing to distract from the next humiliating sensation creeping up on her. At first, she didn’t even register it, too overwhelmed by everything else—until Mommy’s hand squeezed the front of her diaper again. The padding was now warm beneath her touch, freshly wet in a way that made Elara’s breath hitch in horror.

“Such a good baby for Mommy,” she purred, her voice dripping with mock affection as her fingers lingered on the soggy material. “This is exactly where you belong. Aren’t you excited for your new life? Lots of warm, milk-filled tummies and lots and lots of squishy diapers… You are such a good baby for Mommy.” Her hand moved from the diaper to stroke Elara’s hair gently, each touch both soothing and possessive as she gazed down at her.

Elara lay there helplessly in the crib, unable to pull away from the breast or protest through the haze of humiliation. The weight of the wet diaper clung to her skin, every word from Mommy sinking deeper into her psyche as Quinn’s faint breathing nearby reminded her she wasn’t alone in this nightmare—just powerless to stop it.