Health and Safety
By Musuko

TS 09:44:11 02.09.2013
Agent(s): RC036845
Subject(s): RC036845
Log type: Near Miss Report

At 09:12:00, during calibration of the alpha node on X-409, accidental collision with the activation switch caused an unplanned discharge of the central load beam for 0.22 seconds. The beam was directed away from personnel present in the room (Jennifer Hughes, RC036845) and intersected no apparatus. Decontamination has been ordered, as per standard precautions.
	Submitted for review and recommendation of operational changes.

From: amandaferman
To: jenniferhughes
Sent: 11:35 02/09/2013
Subject: near miss

Jenny,

Your boobs knocked the switch again, didn’t they? Clumsy mare! Try not to do it again. Health and safety will beat my arse. And not in the fun way.

Amanda.

Private diary of Amanda Ferman, entry for 4th September, 2013.

Dear diary.

I could almost cry. It’s just...hell. Sometimes working at CKC just isn’t worth it. It takes things from you. My best friend, Jenny…

I didn’t hear from her at work yesterday. I just thought she was busy and left her to it. We were meant to meet up after work for drinks at the Panda Bar. She didn’t show. No biggie. She’s flaky like that. I sent her some texts, then went home after an hour. If I’d have known!

Nothing from her this morning either. Starting to get odd, because she always sends me a text or email or something. So at lunchtime I went down to the labs to see her.

Oh god. I just...you wouldn’t believe the smell. She was...she had…

Sorry, diary. I don’t think I can write about this today. I’ll try again tomorrow.

Amanda. xxx

TS 18:21:38 04.09.2013
Agent(s): AA000023
Subject(s): RC036845
Log type: Class A incident report, AA-I-0409201301

Location: Lab 14 chamber A04
Alert received at 12:10. Attended site at 12:12. Chamber contained X-402 experimental prototype and Researcher Jennifer Hughes (age: 28, self-identified gender: female, species: mongol horse). Jennifer Hughes on initial impression appeared to have been subjected to the effects of X-402’s primary function.
	Jennifer Hughes has been placed on medical suspension and transferred to Secure Ward C in the custody of Safety Executive Amanda Ferman (age: 27, self-identified gender: female, species:  clydesdale).
Please see document AA-I-0409201301-witness statement 001.

AA-I-0409201301-witness statement 001

Transcription (partial).
Present: Agent AA000023
Present: Amanda Ferman

Agent AA000023: 
Please describe the incident in your own words. Take as much time as you need.

Amanda Ferman: 
Well, I hadn’t heard from Jenny-

Agent AA000023: 
Researcher Jennifer Hughes.

Amanda Ferman: 
Yes, Jennifer. I hadn’t heard from her for a couple of days, so I went to check on her. One of her colleagues, I can’t remember who, told me she’d been working in chamber four, so I went there to see how she was.
	I should have taken her near miss the other day more seriously. I’m going to get a disciplinary for this, I just know. Lord knows I deserve it. I’m supposed to be stopping this sort of thing. It’s my fucking job and-

Agent AA000023:
Miss Ferman…

Amanda Ferman:
Yes, sorry. I opened the door...and the smell hit me first, and I knew something bad had happened. The room stank. I mean, it stank. Of, well, you know.

Agent AA000023:
Please say what it stank of, for the tape.

Amanda Ferman:
It stank of shit, excuse my language. Like someone had been shitting all over the place. And of course, I found out that’s exactly what had been happening.
	I opened the door...and there she was. Sat on the floor. Naked. Her clothes all over the place, on the floor, literally covered in her own shit. The floor covered in shit. In her fur. On her paws, caked into her hoovetips. Everywhere. It looked like...like she’d been drawing with it. On the floor. On the walls.
	Ugh. I’m okay. Just...just give me a moment.
	Okay, so she was sat there, crosslegged. And the machine she was working on was humming away, glowing blue, with steam or smoke coming off the generator coil. I hit the SCRAM button and ran over to her.
	She seemed okay...in a way. She smiled at me and made this...noise. Like...I don’t know. Kind of a happy gurgle? She put her paws up, covered in mess. I nearly gagged.
	I don’t remember what I said. You’ve got the security camera recordings, yes? Well, I forced myself to get past the disgust and took her paws to try and help her stand. But she’s a heavy girl, and she didn’t seem to even be trying. She pulled instead and I lost my footing. I slipped, fell onto my knee, and she threw her arms around my waist and hugged tight, making that cooing noise again.

Agent AA000023:
One moment please.

Agent AA000023 leaves the room.
Agent AA000023 returns to the room.

Agent AA000023:
Amanda, it appears we have a problem. The X-402 is intended to be a mental realignment device, with wide-ranging applications. At its current level of development, however, it is not yet ready for live subject testing. Jennifer Hughes appears to have received a dosage of unknown strength, with unknown consequences.
	However, the designers have assured me that her physical health is not likely to be under immediate threat, and the radiation dosage she received is within annual tolerance for her species.
	Mentally, though-

Amanda Ferman:
Oh God.

Agent AA000023:
There are no certainties at this stage. However, if the designers’ hypotheses are correct, then your involvement with Jennifer’s recovery may be to her benefit. In a wiped mental state, as Jennifer appears to be, we know from testing of similar mechanisms that an affected subject is likely to imprint upon the first person they see, as a means of creating structure in their mental void.
	It is likely that Jennifer has imprinted on you in such a way.

Amanda Ferman:
What...what does that mean for me?

Agent AA000023:
I am placing you on special duties indefinitely and assigning you to Secure Ward C as Jennifer Hughes’s custodian, to assist in her recovery.

Amanda Ferman:
But…

Agent AA000023:
Interview terminated at…

Private diary of Amanda Ferman, entry for 5th September, 2013.

Dear diary.

Jenny got hit by a mind wipe at work. It left her completely blank. She got taken away to the loony bin. And it seems, well…
	It was my damn fault for letting her hug me. She’s gone and imprinted on me like she was a chick poking her beak out of her egg and I’m the first thing she saw and I’m now her mother.
	She got my uniform absolutely filthy. She had been in a room on her own for a whole day, had done her business on the floor and...played with it.
	So now I’m looking after her.
	They had her in a padded cell. I knew we had them, but I’d never seen them. This was my first time. The staff working there were very nice. Sympathetic, even. Not something I’m used to at CKC!
	They’d cleaned her up by the time I got there this morning. And dressed her. In a straitjacket. I suppose they had to after how they found her. And a diaper. That...I guess that made sense too. But oh God, dear diary, can you imagine seeing her like that, my old friend, trussed up and padded like a little baby?
	She got this goofy smile and just squealed at me. I remember what I said, to the kid in the nurse uniform.
	“So, what do they expect me to do?” I said, or something like that anyway. I’ll paraphrase a bit, dear diary. I don’t remember everything exactly.
	“Talk to her. It’ll help.” Skinny little lizard nurse.
	“What about?”
	“Anything you like. Try to remind her about her life. Try talking about some things you’ve done together. Jog her memories.”
	Jenny kept looking up at me, as if she were giddy with happiness. There was a little drool on her chin, and she was waggling her legs in an effort to scoot over to me. I was embarrassed for her.
	“I don’t think this…”
	And he cut me off. Interrupted me. “I’ll be right outside. Hit the alarm button next to the door and I’ll be here in three seconds, if you need me.”
	And with a happy smile of his own he was gone, closing the door, shutting me in with Jenny in the empty room.
	At least she didn’t smell.
	Left in the quiet, with just her gurgling noises. Not totally alone of course. A camera up above the door was watching everything. God, that made it worse.
	I crouched down on the padded floor, then knelt instead: it’s hard to stay balanced like that on the spongy floor, even on flats.
	“So…”
	She cooed at me and butt-scooted closer. I put my paw on her shoulder to hold her still.
	“Jenny. Do you remember me? It’s me, your friend Amanda.” I stared into her eyes. The mindless happiness thrown back at me was...unnerving.
	“Jenny, do you remember anything? Anything at all?”
	She made a noise like: Blurrrrrrrrble! And then she blew a raspberry right at my face, and giggled and giggled and giggled.
	I tried not to get mad. Or cry. Tears were welling in my eyes. It was all so overwhelming. But I had to stay strong.
	So I sat next to her. And...just talked. About anything. I talked about my day, and what I’ve been up to at home. About the herb garden. About my dinner date with Alec. About how much of a bore he was. I talked about how my mother was being overbearing and asking for grandkids again. I talked about how tightly my fingers were crossed for my promotion.
	She lay her head in my lap. And made a burbling noise. And then said “mummy”. And then fell asleep.
	I sat there for an hour before I got enough courage together to ease myself out from underneath her, and left. Quickly. And gave a report of what she’d said. And left work early to go home to some very sorely-needed wine!

Goodnight diary. 

Amanda. xxx

Private diary of Amanda Ferman, entry for 6th September, 2013.

Dear diary.

I’m told she tantrumed the entire time I wasn’t there, from the moment I left to the moment I arrived back. She screamed and bawled and banged her head against the wall padding. She’d messed her diaper, and fought so much that none of the nurses could get near her to change it.
	And when I turned up, they dropped the bomb: they couldn’t use sedatives to calm her down, as they didn’t dare risk it in her current mentally-altered state. Unforeseen consequences. Could be very bad.
	“So...what do we do?” I’d said, naively.
	They passed me a diaper bag and a changing mat.
	“Please be joking.”
	“You’re the only one she’s calm for.”
	I breathed deeply at the door, because I certainly wasn’t going to be doing so on the other side of it!
	The door slid open and I held my breath. There she was, sat up against the wall at the far end of the room, screaming her lungs out. Her eyes were red raw from crying, and the drool down her chin had soaked her straitjacket too. On sight of me she stopped in and instant, and in a broken, squeaky voice she cooed.
	“Mummy!”
	“I’m not…” but I thought, could I say that and break the one thing her emptied mind had recognised in the world? I bit my lip. “Yes Jenny, mummy’s here.”
	I set the bag and the changing mat down. It was a big mat. Adult size. Probably a CKC product.
	“Mummy’s here to change you...agh!” The smell hit me full force. Equine shit can really stink, and I should know. And there was piss too. Stale, day-old piss, mixed with shit. An overpowering combination.
	How the hell do parents do it? I gagged and bit my sleeve, breathing through the fabric to calm myself.
	“O-okay, Jenny...come be a good girl and lie down over here.” I patted the changing mat.
	She gave me a dumb look and babbled something incoherent.
	This wasn’t going to be easy.
	“Jenny, come here.” I scooted the mat until it was next to her and patted it again. She yelped and scooted away from it. The sagging padding under her butt smushed as she slid along on it, and the leg hole gaped, giving me a peek at the brown horror within. The inside was caked with the stuff. I choked back another gag.
	I couldn’t do this. I bolted for the button.
	Outside, to fresh air. I rested a while. Then a godsend; the nurse casually mentioned a pill that’d numb my gag reflex. Of course he forgot to mention it before. Of course.
	I went back in, feeling a little boosted in my confidence. It still stank, but at least I knew I wouldn’t be vomiting from the stench.
	She had pulled open the zip of the diaper bag and strewn its contents everywhere.
	“Jenny, no! Bad!” I dived in to pull her away, to pull the clean diaper from her teeth, to pack everything back into place. The lid of the talc popped free and spilled everywhere. Damn it.
	“Bad Jenny.” She whined and looked sheepish. It seems some sense was emerging in her; she knew she was being naughty. It was like talking to a baby.
	I stood at full height, paws on my hips. Then I pointed at the mat and snapped my fingers. “Lie down,” I said, in as best a mimic of the stern voice my mother used to use as I could manage.
	Then, miracle of miracles, she did. She made a sulky little mumble noise, and rolled over onto the mat, laying on her back, wiggling her legs and squirming around inside her straitjacket. The seat of the diaper hung off her in a sodden mess. I was not looking forward to getting in there.
	The mat suddenly had straps. They definitely hadn’t been there before. Wrist straps. A neck strap. Thigh straps. The works. All in soft fleecy fabric with velcro seals. I hurried to the button, watching Jenny closely. She tried to roll off the mat.
	“Ut! No!”
	She lay back. The door opened and the nurse appeared.
	“This mat’s one of ours, isn’t it? What’s it do.”
	“Restraint mat,” he said. “Scans whoever’s laid on it and extrudes restraints of the appropriate size, position and strength to secure them.” He looked over at Jenny. “I suggest you use it. Is there anything else you need?”
	I sent him away and the door closed again.
	“Right. I guess we need to get you out of this.” I knelt beside her and started to unbuckle the straitjacket. Not the whole thing, mind; just the arms, so I could shift them into the cuffs. If she were secured to the mat, she wouldn’t be moving around or, God forbid, get off it whilst I was halfway through the job.
	It happened the moment I got her arms free. Still clad in the sleeves of the jacket, but now independently mobile. She yanked free of my grip and thrust both paws downwards, and slid them right down under the front of her diaper.
	“No!”
	She cooed happily and I heard the squish as her canvas-clad paws pressed into the sodden lumps of waste soiling the inside of the diaper. I thought about all that...stuff...smearing over her sex, and rejoiced momentarily that the pill was working. I would have lost my breakfast right then. I still felt like I might, like the pill wouldn’t be strong enough.
	She was rubbing her shit-covered vagina with the mitts of her straitjacket, and was lying there with a blissed-out expression of vacant joy.
	I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t bring myself to touch her and risk getting smeared again. I couldn’t do anything.
	It was a dumb move, I know, but I just had to get out of there. I left her like that and fled. Press the button, out the room, making excuses to the nurse, and down the corridor and gone.
	I returned about an hour later.
	And the nurse glared at me. I’d never seen such hatred.
	“We managed to get her strapped to the mat. It took four of us, and she bit Michael.”
	“I’m so sorry.”
	“She made a mess of the cell. There’s...well, you know...it’s everywhere.”
	“I really am so sorry. It won’t happen again.”
	He glared at me for a little more, and I tried to placate as best I could with a guilty, pleading smile. Eventually, he left me to it, gesturing to the cell. “Finish the diaper change, please.”
	Back into the breach. It was as bad as the chamber where I found her. The padding on two walls was soiled with long smears of shit. The work of her mittened paws, I gathered. The smell was overwhelming. The room was a fetid swamp of it. The pill felt like it was wearing off. I felt my stomach churn.
	She was strapped to the mat, and her fretting sobs faded away when I stepped in.
	“Mummy!” she wailed. Then wordless, unhappy babbles.
	“Yes, mummy’s here,” I said, trying to keep the shell shocked weariness out of my voice. “Mummy’s here to change you.”
	I knelt in front of her and concentrated on rifling through the diaper bag, getting everything out and ready. Fresh diaper. A big tub of wet wipes. Trash bag. Talc. Latex gloves. I glanced at her, strapped and helpless, legs pulled apart and strapped in place, naked from the diaper downwards, fur flecked with little spots of brown mess, almost the same colour as her fur, but not quite.
	“You’re going to need a bath sooner or later.”
	“No baff!” she cried. I blinked.
	“Yes, bath.”
	“Noooooo baff!”
	It was progress, of a sorts.
	“Yes, bath!”
	“Noooo mummy no baff dun wan!”
	“Okay, no bath.”
	A burble of happiness. I glanced at the camera.
	“I hope you guys got that.”
	I took a moment to steel myself, then reached across to her hips and pulled apart the tapes sealing her diaper in place. I tried my best to focus on the task as clinically as possible, recalling doing the same duty for my young nephew when babysitting so many years ago.
	This, though, was altogether different.
	“Jesus, Jenny. How much did you eat?”
	And then, practically blushing, I recalled: horse. Like me. I remembered some of my own embarrassing bowl-breakers.
	Jenny blew a nice big raspberry, and her fidgeting body jostled the great sopping mess that lay in a swollen heap between her spread thighs. I covered my mouth with the crook of my elbow and concentrated on breathing. Okay, I could do this.
	I carefully eased the front of the diaper down between her legs, brushing the edges lightly across her shit-covered sex, then slowing as I met the resistance of the main mess bomb. It was the size of a baby. Dear god.
	I struggled to stay calm as I felt the diaper plastic bend beneath my fingers, sinking into the soft mush. The warmth reached my fingers, through the padding, through the plastic, through my latex gloves. The heat of shit fresh from the rear of my best friend.
	Getting the diaper out from under her rear was a nightmare. I thanked whatever deity I could think of that her tail was bobbed. I couldn’t imagine the horror of it getting into the mess that unavoidably smeared under her rear onto the changing mat. I curled the diaper around into a ball, taping the sides up. I hefted it up in both paws and felt the weight shift and sag between them. I dropped it into a waiting plastic disposal bag and heard the squelch.
	The smell. I could describe it. Without the pill, I’d have lost my stomach.
	And the sight. With all her moving around she had smeared every ounce of the sticky, sodden mess around her entire waist. I snatched up a wetwipe. Then I looked at the task ahead of me. I grabbed about six more and wadded them together in my paw.
	“Lie still,” I said, as sternly as I could. And it surprised me that Jenny seemed to settle.
	I started on her thigh, pressing the bundle of wipes firmly against her fur, pushing a trough through nearly a quarter inch of caked on muck. I watched it roll up in front of my fingers, then caught it in the wipes. Barely six inches cleaned and the amount cleaned was a pawful.
	“This...is going to take a while.” Perhaps I should give up and just wait to give her a bath.
	My guard was down. I heard the giggle first. I turned my head to look at her, and it hit me.
	A stream of hot, acrid piss, right in my face. I fell backwards, and the stream splashed down my front, soaking my clothes. I screamed! She giggled louder! The fountain of piss arced up from her exposed sex, bringing wet chunks of shit along in the spray. It got in my face, in my fur, stung one eye...and into my mouth.
	I gagged, the pill no good now, and scrambled to my feet, knocking changing gear flying in my mad scramble for the button to get out of the room.

From: musukomassiel
To: lindadesoto
Sent: 09:17 07/09/2013
Subject: resignation

Linda,

Why am I looking at a piece of paper that appears to be a resignation letter from Amanda Ferman?

Musuko.
CEO Clever Kitty Creations

From: lindadesoto
To: musukomassiel
Sent: 09:22 07/09/2013
Subject: Re: resignation

Musuko,

I apologise, sir. Of course that shouldn’t have reached you. It appears to be related to the AA-I-0409201301 incident (mind wipe of Jennifer Hughes). I’ll get the issue dealt with.

Regards,

Linda DeSoto
Personal Assistant to Musuko Massiel

From: musukomassiel
To: lindadesoto
Sent: 09:49 07/09/2013
Subject: Re: Re: resignation

Linda,

Deliver Amanda to Secure Ward A as a new resident. Tell me when it’s done.

Don’t argue about it.

Musuko.
CEO Clever Kitty Creations

musukomassiel-privatelog-070913-01.doc

I can’t say that I enjoy having to discipline my staff. I do enjoy it immensely...I just can’t say it. I’d be branded a sadist.
	All my staff know full well that you can’t resign from CKC. Amanda should know better. And to abandon her friend in her time of need? Tsk! That’s just immoral.
	Ward A is special. Very few wind up in its dark cells. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Amanda’s situation…
	...the surprise, first. The firm sudden grip on each bicep as two beefy members of Security took hold of her and lifted her onto tiptoes, to drag her if necessary. Her protests, perhaps even her screams. All ignored. Other staff avoiding her pleas.
	Then the growing horror as she approaches That Door. The big steel door, behind which only mystery and horrible rumour lurks.
	Ward A. The disciplinary ward.
	The next bit I didn’t need to imagine. I had the recording.
	A cold, sterile room of smoke-grey steel. A whimpering, naked female horse stood in the centre, clutching one arm across her breasts, the other trying to hide her crotch. And before her a steel table. And in the middle of the table, an XXXXL-Capacity CKC diaper, graded for three weeks of usage. The padding was a foot thick when dry.
	She beat the door for a while, then kicked at it when no response came.
	Anger first.
	Then sobbing. Quiet.
	Grief? Is that the second stage?
	She skipped steps. I’m guessing she was smart enough to know that there was no getting out of it. She glared up at the ceiling, a good guess, but not aimed right for the discreet cameras, and yanked the diaper off the table. Or tried to. The weight of it caught her by surprise, and she had to strengthen her pull to heave it to the floor.
	Oh the sight of a reluctant grown woman taping a diaper onto herself. I could practically feel the heaviness of the dense padding as she hauled it up over her clean, naked crotch. My sensitive microphones caught the quiet gasp, and I grinned to myself.
	Dosed padding.
	Her fingers started to tremble as she lay back and fumbled the tapes into place. I knew what she was feeling. The warmth. The tingling. The fire of tickling arousal as the chemicals soaked into the diaper fabric started to assault the naked flesh of her folds.
	“B-bastards,” she gasped. I got a shiver from watching.
	As soon as the tapes touched together, the diaper’s second little trick took effect: the ruffs around her waist and leg holes snicked tight against her fur, and the tapes melted into each other and set like a rigid plastic. It was sealed on, and no amount of cutting or tearing could get it off until it was full.
	She bit back a quaking sob. She clearly knew exactly what she was wearing.
	Only then did the vapour start to spread into the room.

Blurfle…
	My brain slowly put itself together and reported that something was tugging at my foot.
	I lifted my head to a vision of pink. The smell of cabbages lingered in my nose. Everything was a blur. And in the blur I could just make out a brown-furred figure, and the tug at my foot resolved itself to feeling like the wet nibble of teeth on my toes.
	“Mummy!”
	I blinked away the fog. More pink. Everywhere pink.
	This was...a nursery. Pink wallpaper pattern with hearts. Pink deep pile carpet. Pink crib. Pink highchair. Pink changing table. And a fully adult horse woman, my friend Jenny, dressed in a pink diaper, with a pink pacifier on a pink ribbon hanging from her neck.
	And then me. Naked apart from the insanely thick and bulky diaper that I knew no amount of trying would remove.
	I groaned and lay my head back down onto the carpet. Jenny’s teeth gnawed at my big toe. I waited for the fog to fully clear.
	“Okay,” I said to myself. “Okay.” Again, more firmly. Time to get in charge of the situation. “Check the door.”
	I lifted my head. The door was padded with pink. No handle. Naturally.
	“Well, that’s to be expected.” I groaned as I sat myself up, holding my arms out in front for balance and spreading my legs wide. I felt the dense padding rock beneath my butt. I gasped as the tingle relit its fire in my sex, and I felt my ears heat up and flick. God damn it that was just cruel, putting something in the diaper to arouse me.
	I looked down at the cherubically smiling face of Jenny. At least she was clean. The room was clean. She smelt clean. I enjoyed it, knowing it wouldn’t last.
	“I…” my voice caught with a gasp. I’d felt something...creepy. My paws flung to my chest. Something creepy and...wet.
	I dared to look down. I gasped again. My breasts were huge! Easily a K cup. And they most definitely weren’t that large yesterday. My paws clasped over my nipples, and when I moved them, fearfully, slowly...I saw the dribbles of milk leaking from each one.
	“Holy…iee!”
	Jenny had bitten down hard on my big toe. I yanked it free from her mouth with a pop, and she pouted at me.
	“Hungy!”
This had to be a dream. There was no way this was happening. Not even CKC would do this.
I wasn’t fooling myself. This was exactly the sort of thing they would do.
I pulled my legs up underneath myself and struggled against the bulbous counterweight of my diapered butt, and the unwelcome sagging, aching pull of my heavy breasts, and slowly lumbered to my feet. Jenny fell back onto her rump and started rocking, grabbing hold of her feet and singing.
“Hungy hungy hungy mummy!”
My eyes settled on the rocking chair, pink naturally, in the corner. I hoped to hell there weren’t cameras in here, whilst trying not to think about the absolute certainty that there were. I took my first step, leg swinging wide. The plastic at my hips made a shuffling noise as my thighs chafed against it. I bit my lip and stifled a squeal as the movement rubbed the soft but firm padding against my crotch and massaged still more of that evil chemical into my now throbbing lips…and made my clit burn and itch for a touch. I steeled myself, trying not to think of it, because I knew damn well that I had no hope of reaching orgasm through the half a foot of padding between me and my sex. Even a smack with a hammer would feel like a gentle tickle.
I teetered and fell into the rocking chair, sweat under my mane, a bonfire crackling between my legs. I tried to focus. I waved to Jenny and patted my lap.
“Come on,” I panted.
She cooed happily and scrambled to her feet. She skipped across the room in a waddling gait, totally at ease with the thickness around her middle. I braced myself, suddenly realising my error; she wasn’t a little girl. She was a strapping great mare, almost as big as me. And she was about to jump into my lap.
But my fear didn’t come to pass. She came to a stop in front of me and just sort of...flopped into my lap, falling sideways and sitting across me, her shoulder hooked into the crook of my elbow, her nose resting on my left breast. She was heavy, but she didn’t land on me with a crash. I sat stunned, and closed my arms around her, feeling the warmth through her fur.
He lips latched onto my nipple, and my fingers clenched against her, gripping her tightly.
	“Oh f-f-fuck,” I cried, before gritting my teeth and hissing.
	It was the most amazingly sensual feeling I’d ever experienced. Oh sure, I’d had my nipples nibbled and sucked before. But not like this. Her mouth was a tight seal, and the suckling felt so intense. And the strange feeling of milk moving...it made me shudder.
	There was no way this was natural. There had to be some medication doing this. Perhaps the same that was making me lactate in the first place. There had to be. Otherwise breastfeeding mothers the world over would be gasping in orgasm as they fed their babies.
	I sat in a squirming, whimpering heap as Jenny suckled, her eyes closed, muffled murmurs of delight coming between wet slurping noises as she breathed, not through her nose, but through her mouth, in little gasps between suckles. I clung tightly to her, kneading my fingertips against her tummy, trying not to think of the shots of lightning pleasure that her innocent feeding was jolting through my quaking body.
	“E-easy there,” I said, as soothingly and steadily as I could. I moved a paw up to the back of her neck and gently rubbed it. She responded with a muffled coo. Her suckling slowed a little. Did she understand? She didn’t look like she did.
	I closed my eyes and tried to relax. It was damn hard. I could feel every little nibble of her teeth on the nub of my nipple, every intense suck that made my toes clench and the tingle on my sex surge unbearably. I fidgeted my thighs underneath the weight of her body.
	Fuck...I was going to build some kind of Pavlovian reaction for this. That’d be just the right kind of evil for CKC. I opened my eyes again and looked right down at Jenny’s face, trying to concentrate on her as my friend, as a person, and not this hopefully temporary...child.
	She let go of my nipple with a gasp, a dribble of milk making its way down her chin. She burbled contently.
	“All done?”
	She answered by bapping me on the muzzle with a clumsily-aimed paw.
	“G-guess so.”
	I gave her a little nudge. She didn’t budge.
	“Want to go play?”
	“Nuh!”
	She just kept staring at my. The breath from her nose tickled my breast. I gave her another nudge, trying to coax her crushing weight off of my lap.
	“Go play?”
	“NUH!”
	I sighed.
	“Cuddle?”
	She squealed in delight and buried her face in under my arm. I closed my arms around her shoulders...and tried to keep my mind off the heat between my legs.

I must have fallen asleep. I woke to an urgent need; my bladder. I felt the weight and the heat on me, and the numb tingling of pins and needles in my left foot, telling me that Jenny was still on me. The room was dark, a gentle light coming from a nightlight on the dresser beside the door.
	Well, that answered one question. They were definitely watching.
	I tried to shift her off my lap, but she was a dead weight, fast asleep. I stifled a small whine.
	“Jenny. Wake up, please. Jenny?”
	I nudged at her shoulder. She murmured in her sleep and opened her mouth...and latched onto my nipple, starting to suckle as if it were a pacifier.
	“F-fuck!”
	I clenched my toes. I could hold it. I could wait. I had to use the damn diaper...but I could have some control and hold it until Jenny wasn’t on my lap. I could have a little dignity.
	The seconds passed. My bladder ached. Jenny’s suckling made me want to moan. Tears welled in my eyes.
	“Noooo…”
	My resolve broke, and I felt the gush of heat between my legs, pouring out into the waiting padding. I felt its thirst soak up my hot piss, stealing it away from the fur of my thighs, keeping me clean of all but a mild dampness. I felt the swell as the padding absorbed and grew, pushing my legs apart a fraction wider. I lay my head back and choked away a whimper of shame. Here I was pissing into a diaper like a little baby, and I didn’t have the excuse of being mind-wiped like poor Jenny. I had to be aware for every shameful moment of it.
	And when the flow died to a trickle, and then nothing at all, I had to sit there in the warmth, in the comfort, in the awful unwanted arousal. Meanwhile, Jenny slept on, innocent and oblivious.
	I closed my eyes and tried to join her.

She woke. I could tell, because my lap was empty, and I could hear her amongst her toys. The toy chest was open and gutted. Around her in the middle of the room were piles of colourful plastic and wood. She woke me with the noise of her banging some toy bricks against the slats of a xylophone.
	I rubbed at my eyes. The room was bright again. No smell of cabbages. A natural sleep, then.
	“Mummy!”
	She threw a block at me. It bounced at my feet. She clapped happily.
	“Morning Jenny,” I grumbled. The diaper stopped me standing with dignity. Its fat, heavy weight sagged between my legs, halfway down to my knees. I could feel the added pull of the sodden patch. And as soon as I moved, of course, the tingling came back. The need to rub myself to orgasm started to nag at me.
	I moved a paw to my tummy. I felt...full. Like I’d eaten a hearty breakfast. I groaned. Of course. Unconscious force feeding.
	I waddled over to join Jenny and settled with a thump onto my bulging butt, looking in envy at the more normally-sized padding taped around Jenny’s waist.
	“Bloo!” She waved a plastic ducky at me and blew a cheerful raspberry. I smiled as encouragingly as I could and held my paw out for it.
	“Duck,” I said.
	“Blooooo!”
	“Duck.”
	She dropped it and picked up a wooden block, stuffing it in her maw to gnaw wetly on it. If there was any hope of getting her faculties back, it was going to take a while.
	So that was my role, I reasoned. I refused to be a caretaker for her, so now I was forced to.
	Oh no.
	I looked at her, at the expression she now bore. I knew that look; that slightly pained look of intense concentration. She leaned forward, her paws resting on the floor in front of her, between her widely spread legs. She let out a soft grunt and scrunched her eyes up.
	First came the subtle sound of her diaper; the crinkle of plastic shifting. Then the undignified, foul noise.
	Ppffffffttt!
	I groaned. I wanted to look away. But my fascination kept me staring as my friend sat there and shit into her diaper just like a toddler would. I could see the bulge grow on her butt, and then widen across her whole rear as the milk-fed semi-solid mess of her shit blossomed out into the tight space between her fur and the fabric of the diaper.
	And then the smell reached my nose. The potent, sickly stink of it. It smelt like a baby’s mess. A pungent, rotting kind of smell, utterly unlike a normal bathroom funk. It assaulted my nose and made me fight down a dry heave.
	She giggled and rocked backwards, and I heard it squish beneath her. I imagined it smearing up between her legs, pushed around by her motions, getting everywhere, making a bigger job for me when I inevitably had to change her.
	“Blarr!” she cried, looking proud of herself. Her attention went to the book of ABCs laid open and half-chewed in front of her. I scooted forwards, holding my breath. I would have to change her soon, I was sure. But right now, while she was distracted, I would make the best of it. I readied myself for a long job.
	I pointed to the page. “Apple.”

Okay, you can do this.
	It’s what I told myself, but I didn’t believe it.
	She was laying on the changing mat. Willingly. Unrestrained. There were no restraints available. If there were, you could be sure I’d be using them. I had to half-coax, half lift her up, and keep her still with gentle requests and a press of my paw against her tummy to keep her from sitting up.
	I tore the tapes at her hips and gently eased up the front of her diaper. I tried not to breathe too deeply. I stared into the unfolding horror beneath me; diarrhea. Unmistakable, runny light-brown smears of it all over her hips and thighs and...cough...sex. And below, as I eased the front of the diaper fully flat, the larger, more solid smushed lump of darker brown, sticky and thick, caked into the fur between her rump cheeks. And there was no bath or helpful nurse to fall back on this time. I grabbed for wetwipes and didn’t pause to think or fear; I dived right in, starting to wipe.
	She watched me with an expression of focus I hadn’t seen before. I worried for one heart-stopping moment that she was about to piss in my face again. But she only wiggled her toes.
	“Fank oo mummy,” she said. I paused, then continued to wipe at the worst of the soiling either side of her sex.
	“You’re welcome, sweetie.”
	She didn’t fight me as I lifted her ankles, but she didn’t help either, and it was a strain to lift her weight. I resorted to resting one leg on my shoulder while I freed a paw to quickly slide the soiled and heavy diaper out from under her, gave a speedy wipe to the underside of her rump, then slid a fresh pink diaper under her.
	I dropped her down into it, and she cooed softly, eyes still fixed disconcertingly on me. I went through the ritual; puff of sweet-smelling powder, obscuring her glistening sex lips beneath the pink, then pulling up and taping tight the warm security of her fresh, clean diaper.
	“Don’t mess this one too quickly, okay?” I pleaded, sliding an arm under her shoulders and coaxing her to hop down off the table.
	“Kay!”
	There was no denying it. She was understanding me. Progress!
	I retreated to the rocking chair to sit and rest while she went to play with her toys. I rocked with one foot, back and forth, back and forth, and idly rubbed my paw against the bulging front of my diaper. I managed to feel relaxed. It was nice.

I clutched my tummy. No, this wasn’t happening. This wasn’t fair.
	It started as a gurgle. Then that feeling of weight and pressure down there. I ignored it at first, focusing on watching Jenny play. But time dragged on. How long, I couldn’t tell. There were no clocks. But the pressure grew, and soon it was unbearable. And I knew it was only a matter of time before I had to give in.
	I hugged my arms around myself and trembled. I kept rocking the chair. The tingle in my sex never quite went away. I felt the first wet fart slip from my rear and die in the thickness of the padding.
	Then my gentle groan as the liquid shit pushed from my rear. What had they fed me? I felt a cramp build, then grip my middle, encouraging me to clench down and force more of the gushing, squirting flow into the waiting padding.
	I trembled. I could feel it spreading out over my rear. I prayed it would stay away from the leg holes, or that the seals there were impervious. I shifted slightly in the seat and felt the wetness trickle between my legs. The tears welled in my eyes, and I pushed to get it over with. Wet lumps splattered out with the liquid, and on and on it went. The padding swelled. The warmth and sickly damp clung to my rear. But thankfully the smell was contained. I still only had Jenny’s stink to deal with.
	Jenny. I looked up. She was sat across the room, ignoring her toys, staring right at me and grinning.
	“Mummy made messy!”

She was definitely getting smarter. My hope was growing. The effect of the device would wear off, and she would go back to being normal, clumsy, slightly silly Jenny again, and this whole nightmare could end. I concentrated on working with her, looking at the kids books, playing with the blocks, putting them in the right holes. Circle to circle, square to square.
	“Dag!”
	“That’s right! Duck! Good girl!”
	I found bottled water in the cupboard. I drank my fill. I still wasn’t hungry. Jenny was, though. I guessed it must be about evening time, but it was impossible to know for sure. I fed her where we were, cuddled up together on the carpet, cradling her in my arms while her lips found my nipple. I tried to stay silent, but the unbearable tease of her stimulation got to me again, and I found myself rubbing uselessly at the diaper’s front.
	“Not fair,” I whimpered.
	Jenny made a giggling noise, then slurped up some more milk, sucking it from my body.
	A soft hissing noise. And Jenny was pissing herself.
	Wait...no, she wasn’t.
	The shame hit me. I wanted to die.
	It was me! And I didn’t even notice I was doing it! I kept feeding her, shaking in burning shame, as I felt the hot spread of piss between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together, felt the resistance of the thick, soggy diaper between them. And the tingle went on unbroken, like a heat that wouldn’t go away without a hard fucking that I had no hope of getting. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t escape any of it.
	“N-nuh fair!” I cried, then bit my lip and hugged Jenny tighter, praying she would hurry up and finish feeding soon.
	She looked up at me with an expression that showed more than her usual awareness...and then bit down hard on my nipple!
	“Ahh! Fuck, Jenny, no! Stop!”
	I gripped her mane and tugged, but she stayed latched on tight, lancing pain into my tender breast with every tiny jostle of her gripping teeth. Tears came to my eyes, and I panted out an agonised squeal.
	“Mmmmrrrbb!” she mumbled, then continued her leisurely, contented suckling, while her teeth remained clamped tightly, while I writhed in pain, my paws flitting about and patting at her sides.
	Eventually, after far, far too long, she let go, breaking away from my red-raw nipple with a wet gasp. She cooed happily, then launched herself from my lap to go play. I hauled myself to my feet and waddled heavily over to the cabinet to fetch another bottle of water, which I poured over myself to sooth the burning. It drained down through my stomach fur and, sadly, ran down over the front of my diaper rather than into it.
	I sat on my padded rump on the floor, able to sit like a little cub thanks to the stability of the wide, thick cushion of warm padding beneath my. My sex raged with need. My nipple still throbbed with a dull ache. Jenny was happy and oblivious.
	I stacked a couple of discarded wooden blocks. They spelled “WGX”. I flicked a finger and toppled them, and stacked them again. “HSA”. And again. Not a great deal else to do.

I woke without realising I’d slept. Full stomach. Relaxed. Rising from the fog of artificially induced sleep. My fur felt clean. My teeth were brushed. But I felt the cloying sticky feeling between my thighs that told me my diaper was still as it was.
	The light above me dimmed. I was laid on the floor, and the silhouette of Jenny’s face had just loomed between me and the ceiling above.
	“Mummy look!”
	I lifted my head. “Hmm?” But she pushed her paw against my chest.
	“Loooook Mummy!”
	“Look at what, Jenny? Let me get up, sweetie. There’s a good girl.”
	“Nuh, Mummy look!”
	I couldn’t rise up against the pressure she was pushing against my chest. She was smiling. Cherubic...but with an edge of mischief. I clenched my toes. The involuntary tingle in my sex fired back up. In other circumstances that look would be a preface to bedroom fun. I lifted my paw to reach for her wrist, but her other arm shot down and pinned me first.
“Let me go, Jenny,” I said, as firmly and as motherly as I could.
She giggled. “Nuh Mummy, you have to stay like this to look.”
I lifted my other arm. Her paw moved from my chest to pin it too. I lunged against her grip, but both wrists stayed resolutely pinned to the floor. She was a cub in the head, but an adult in strength.
“L-let me go now, Jenny. You’re being naughty.”
“Nuh! Gotta show you first!”
She rocked to the side and lifted her leg, then rocked back and swung herself astride my chest, kneeling with her diapered rear hovering over me. She started shuffling upwards, and slid my wrists apart and them up above my head. All the while that playful grin hovered above me.
“No Jenny!” I whimpered, voice dying in my throat. This would be sexy as hell...if she were naked.
	I looked down at the wall of plastic shuffling towards my nose. What had once been pure, fresh pink was now stained with sludge brown from waist to crotch and below. A wide, sagging heaviness that swayed when she shuffled. A diaper loaded to capacity, padding totally saturated. Run through with piss and shit in a wet, sodden slurry. The smell that permeated the room rose at such close range to a stench that made me gag and wretch until I held my breath.
	Her voice became quiet. A bedroom voice. “Look Mummy.”
	Her knees came to rest either side of my biceps, either side of my head. My lip trembled. The plastic touched my nose and sagged either side of it. I could feel the warm, liquid feeling on the other side of that thin barrier. I gave one last defiant lunge against her grip on my wrists, and kicked my legs with heavy thumps of my heels against the floor. But she was too strong. There was no fighting this. This was going to happen.
	“I’m l-looking sweetheart,” I whispered, my voice quaking. I caught a noseful of the stench.
	She giggled. And lowered her swollen rump onto my face. The weight of it settled over my muzzle, pressed down under her rear from above. I felt the slimy feeling of the mess ooze down across my cheeks, separated from my fur only by the outer sealing layer of the diaper. I whimpered in fear of it tearing, of getting the raw filth right in my maw.
	I heard her pant. Then grunt. I squealed in protest, my voice muffled right up against the plastic. I knew now where my nose was; the firmness of something pressed against it; it was nestled right between her rump cheeks, pressed right through the padding and against her pucker.
	And she was clenching down and pushing. The wet, loose mess of a fresh load of shit was pushing out of her. I felt it grind down against my nose and pancake into the tight space between her rump, the sodden padding, and my face. I could feel the fresh, intense heat of it. I knew what it was.
	“Mmmmph!” I screamed. The shame. The shame of her shitting right on my face. The shame of my sex being ablaze with lust whilst I suffered this.
	“Hehe...Mummy look!” she gasped...then she let go of my wrists. I threw my paws up towards her to push her off, but she was quicker. She gripped a firm pawful of each butt cheek of her diaper...and pulled.
	It ripped. Right in the middle. Right over my muzzle. I howled in horror as the tidal wave of fresh, runny milk-fed shit poured right onto my face. My struggling paws froze in mid air, arrested by the grip of her paws on my wrists, and they were slowly, inexorably eased back to their helpless position on the floor.
	“I need a change, Mummy,” she whispered. I barely heard. I wasn’t gagging. I wasn’t choking, or vomiting, or anything that would withdraw me from the horror of the sloppy semi-solid muck that was still pushing from her pucker and smearing over my muzzle. I felt it in my teeth. I tasted it on my tongue. The aching need in my sex had risen to an unbearable scream.
	I parted my lips just the tiniest bit. I couldn’t control it. I raged inside for escape. I felt the tip of a slimy log of shit pressing between them, and my mouth opened wide. I heard the wet noise of it sliding out of her pucker and into my mouth. I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop it! What was wrong with me? I…
	...my body shuddered, and I cried out for a split second before the wet shit filled the space between the roof of my mouth and my tongue, and I closed my mouth down onto it as orgasm rocked me. Blissful, sweet orgasm.
	In the blast of insane sensations smashing my body, I didn’t hear the quiet hiss, nor smell the cabbage odour of CKC’s knockout gasses.

musukomassiel-privatelog-130913-01.doc

Checked in on my two girls today. Interesting sight. Seems the dynamic is changing. I didn’t interfere, of course. Have to let nature run its course. Heh. Nature.
	Saw some wicked grins on the faces of some of the researches in the monitoring room. They told me all about what’d been going on, and showed me a few highlights from the camera footage. They’d had to step in with the knockout gas at least once to clean up. One of their comments summed things up perfectly for me: “We don’t know what’s going on...but we will, and we’ll find a way to sell it.”
	For my own part, I had a cup of tea and watched for a while on a big screen. Amanda was breastfeeding in a rather...unusual way.

Jenny demanded her milk like a bratty teenager. The flash of anger she shot me when I didn’t immediately stop changing the bedding in her crib froze me still.
	“O-okay sweetie, it’s milk time then.”
	She shoved my chest and I staggered backwards, shocked more than anything. The awkward weight of the days-old accumulation of mess sagging heavily between my legs in padding now a foot thick knocked me off balance and sent me tumbling to the floor, where the same padding helpfully broke my fall and sent a slimy mush of stale shit gushing up my buttcrack to the base of my tail. I groaned softly, and in a moment she was on me, slamming my shoulder blades against the carpet and pinning my wrists above my head with one paw.
	“Milk now, Mummy,” she growled, baring her wide, powerful teeth above my nose.
	All I could do was timidly nod and arch my back, thrusting my heavy breasts up towards her.
	She smiled, icy sweetness. “Thank you Mummy!”
	She shuffled down until she was knelt astride my waist, one arm stretched up to keep my wrists pinned, her other paw cupping under my breast and giving it an uncomfortable squeeze. I stifled a moan, and she laughed altogether cruelly.
	I braced myself for it. I knew it was coming. She bared her teeth, then bent herself down and clamped her bite down onto my nipple.
	“Mmmmph!” I cried, smothering my scream in my clenched shut mouth. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to think myself past the pain. She started to suckle, chewing on my nub as she gulped down my milk. She drank for what felt like hours. And I writhed and struggled and sobbed in distress until the inevitable conclusion…
	...the swell of sensation between my legs...and the helpless convulsions of orgasm.
	She burped as she lifted herself off me, and scrambled off to go back to what she was doing; curled up in her blanket, drawing in her colouring book, leaving me discarded and broken.
	My lip trembled...and I began to bawl like a baby.
	I don’t know how long I went on like that. But I vaguely became aware of arms settling themselves around my shoulders.
	“Shh baby Mummy. It’s okay. No crying.”
	I leaned forward into the hug, finding my face pressed against Jenny’s bare chest. I pressed my paws against her tummy and lost myself in the emotional exhaustion of my sobs.
	“Shhhh. It’s okay, little baby Mummy. Don’t be sad.”
	I clenched my fingers against her fur. My body felt hot and prickly. I’d not cried in years, and now it all came pouring out. I felt myself draining. The fractured, tortured emotions of the recent days tumbled out in a torrent of catharsis.
	Her embrace tightened, and I felt myself being hauled to my feet. I rose unsteadily, barely lucid. I hung limp from her arms, my wracked sobs muffled by her chest.
	“Baby needs a little rest,” she said. I barely heard. Baby. Crying baby.
	A wooden rattle and a soft damped thud as the side of the crib dropped behind me. Her arms eased me backwards, and I felt the gap grow between us as she eased me down onto the bedding. My thickly-padded rear settled into the soft, comfortable bedding, dampness crushing against my fur. I opened my eyes to look up at her, a protest forming on my lips. She was smiling, with an air of strength that dissolved my words in an instant. I gurgled a weak little noise, shocked by the noise that emerged from me.
	“Good baby,” she cooed.
	I tried to rock myself to stand back up, but she touched her paw to my shoulder and I rolled onto my back, toppling like a toy. She hooked her arm under my ankles and swung me fully onto the mattress.
	“I’m not…”
	“Shh.”
	She unclipped the latches on the crib’s sides and pulled the bars up until they clicked. She then stood on tiptoes and reached above me. My breath caught. I’d forgotten; this crib had a lid. I’d not needed to use it. Jenny had always been so well-behaved, always enjoyed getting into her crib to sleep. Or had she? Was I misremembering? It was all so...so difficult to keep straight now.
	The pink wooden bars closed over the top of me, sealing me inside the cage of the crib. I saw her click shut the latch. I saw the key separate from the keyhole and get set down on the dresser well out of my reach. I tried to sit up, but the bulge of the diaper beneath my rear was an insurmountable obstacle. I was helplessly pinned on my back, like a tipped turtle, like a little baby.
	“Nap time,” she said, watching me through the bars. My lip quivered.
	“Jenny, I…”
	At that moment, as if obliging Jenny’s instructions, the lights went off with a loud click. The watchers. The agents no doubt monitoring the room. Agents with a sadistic sense of humour, perhaps. I heard rather than saw Jenny move across the room, and heard the creak of the rocking chair. I imagined even that I could hear the wet squish of the diaper compressing beneath her rear.
	“Go to sleep, little baby!”
	In the deep privacy of the dark, I hugged my arms around myself, groaning at the touch against my tender nipples. With nothing else to focus on, I could think only of the simmering of arousal between my legs, and the equally hot shame burning in my cheeks. But into that grew the pressing reminder of a bodily function that couldn’t be ignored.
	I tried not to do it. I tried to hold onto that last remaining sliver of my dignity and self-control. But the nagging feeling pushed at me through the fog of nothing that was gently softening the edges of my mind; you might as well. Why hold it in and suffer when the diaper is right there to be used?
	I groaned, embracing the inevitable. The day’s need pent up in my gut. I gritted my teeth and clenched down, squeezing. I felt the slick stickiness ooze from my pucker into the waiting padding, and felt it smush and spread out. I hugged my arms around myself and trembled through it. The heat spread, and I felt the thickness grow between my legs, spreading them still wider. The last spatters, and I relaxed, feeling the ooze seep downwards. I lay my paws down onto the swollen bulge of my diaper, feeling how it ballooned out from my waist and turned my hips into a formless lump of sodden padding and crisp, clean crinkling plastic. I roamed my paws for a while, not even really realising why.
	And I felt...better. I retreated my arms back up around my chest and hugged myself tighter, almost uncomfortably so, and let the warmth ease me away to sleep. I heard a quiet chuckle in the dark, and I didn’t care.

The dream came in a whisper that swirled at the edges of my mind, growing in long, surging throbs of noise, like a machine of titanic proportions toiling in the bowels of the earth deep beneath me, distantly heard, threateningly felt. It rose and rose, and I felt like a flea perched atop it. My sense of self was a thin wisp, barely there. Powerless on the face of the monster.
	Little baby.
	The voice whispered. In my ear and all around.
	Little tiny baby.
	The pounding noise beneath me shuddered. A metallic grind joined the orchestra. The threat tipped into unease. Gears slipped on bearings. Beams fractured. Metal twisted and cried. A chunk of granite chipped off of my mind.
	Little baby. Helpless and happy.
	My stomach dropped out from under me. I was flying. Falling. The power beneath me collapsed in a turning confusion of catastrophe. The throbbing beat lost its rhythm. The scream of chaos rose to deafen me. I crashed about in the turmoil, a feather, ripping to fragments, shrinking and weakening.
	Happy little baby. No thoughts.
	The noise faded, muffled and suppressed. The destructing motion around me faded ethereal to nothing, gone into the mist of calm, serene nothing. Warm, soft, squeezing...it closed in around me, hugging my body. I took form, compressed by it, hugged by it. Soft, cottony comfort.
	And I floated, tiny and alone. And at peace.

I awoke to light. And unlike previous mornings, I didn’t feel clean and fresh. The smell of sweat was in my fur. My stomach groaned, hungry for breakfast. My tongue felt dry. They hadn’t taken care of me in the night.
	I kicked my heels against the bars. “Let me out!”
	“When your breakfast is ready.”
Jenny’s voice made me jump. She sounded...normal. I lifted my head and pushed myself onto my side, looking out through the bars.
	She was sat in the middle of the room. Still naked apart from her diaper. In front of her was a pink plastic dish and spoon.
	“Jenny?”
	“Breakfast will be ready soon!” she said, overly cheerfully. She sounded back to normal, grown-up and restored. But...still sat in her diaper. I realised with a jolt; not the one I’d put on her. She’d changed herself. A clean diaper.
	She rocked forward and gripped her ankles. Her eyes clenched shut, and she panted out a gasp. I heard the slick, wet noise, and saw the subtle shifting of the pink plastic between her legs, watched it bulge and swell. The dank dark brown stain spread visible through the pink plastic. I knew it so well. The instantly soaked diaper padding, draining and locking up the juice to leave the sloppy semi-solid muck, smushed over her sex, between her thighs, up the crease of her rear. I turned away, biting my lip. She wasn’t back to normal.
	“Aww, baby not gonna watch me make breakfast?”
	“I’m not a ba...what are you doing?!”
	Knelt forward, astride the dish, her paws thrust down inside the front of her diaper. The padding sagged between her wide, outstretched legs, and it jostled and shifted as she digged her paws around.
	“Making your breakfast!”
	Cold fear locked up my throat as I watched her paws rise up out of the depths of her diaper, her fingers clenched in tight fists, pulling out two oozing pawfuls of fresh equine shit. I felt bile rise in my throat. I clamped a paw over my mouth. Oh god.
	Splat. She deposited the horror onto the dish.
	“Breakfast’s ready!”
	She stood up. Diaper sagging between her thighs as she walked towards the crib. Shit-covered paws left a smear on the dresser where she picked up the key, and another on the bars of the crib as she unlocked the lid and swung it up. I retreated to the far side of the crib.
	“Jenny no! Help! Someone, please? Help!”
	The side of the crib dropped with a clatter. Those dirty paws reached in towards me. I swung around and aimed a kick at her. She caught my ankle...squish.
	And gripped it. Hard. I tried to shake free, but she had grown stronger than I’d ever imagined she could be. Or...or had I grown weaker? I kicked with my other foot, and after a struggle that left shit streaked up my shin, she had hold of the other ankle, pulling hard. I flailed to grip at the bars above my head, but my rear hit the floor before I could get purchase.
	“Don’t fuss, baby! You’ve got to have breakfast!”
	She dragged me across the carpet. The diaper rode up between my legs, compressing the sodden padding against my sex. I groaned. Not arousal. Not now!
	She dropped my feet either side of the dish, and I flipped myself over to scramble away. Her paw grabbed my wrist and squeezed painfully tight, making me squeal.
	“Bad baby!”
	She yanked me back, facing the horror in the dish. She knelt down behind me, then pushed me sitting fully upright, both her paws gripping my wrists now, bubbling pungent shit between her fingers.
	“No…” I whimpered feebly. I stared with dread at the dish. The slimy pile stared back at me.
	Her grip on my wrists guided my paw towards the spoon. I clenched my fingers into a fist.
	“No!” I cried.
	She dug her hoofnails into my wrist and grinded. I howled in pain, flexing my fingers open. She mashed my paw down onto the handle of the spoon. I resisted.
	“No!”
	The pain. Both wrists now, hoofnails grinding against delicate flesh. I headbutted her chest, but she was like a rock. I couldn’t wrestle free. The tears welled in my eyes. I gripped the spoon, and the grinding stopped.
	“Good baby,” she soothed.
	I could only watch, my stomach turning, as she guided my paw towards the dish. I tried to push in the other direction, but she was stronger. I didn’t dare let go of the spoon. I knew the pain she could inflict so casually. The rim of the spoon touched the heap. Surface tension held it for a split second, and then the plastic sunk into the steaming mass. I choked back a gagging croak.
	She tilted my paw, and the spoon rose back up, carrying with it a globulus lump of smooth brown shit. I tensed my arm as hard as I could and clenched my mouth shut, turning my face away. My eyes could not tear away from the sight, though. I traced every lump, every glisten, every bubble in the liquid pooling beneath the lump in the curve of the spoon. I held my breath, terrified of the smell. I knew that smell would tip me over the edge, fully confronting me with the abject horror of the reality about to be forced upon me.
	“Mmmph!”
	She eased the spoon towards my face entirely without effort. My fiercest struggles were brushed away. Her other paw gripped the back of my head, and shit seeped into my mane. She turned me to face the spoon. The smell hit my nose, and I wretched, bringing up only the acid fluid of an empty stomach. Another wretch, and she stole her opportunity, thrusting the spoon into my open mouth and depositing its contents onto my tongue. Her paw shot to my muzzle and her shit-stained fingers wrapped around it, squeezing it shut around the trapped handle of the spoon.
	“Mmmph!” I screamed. I gagged again with nowhere to go. The taste burned on my tongue. My instincts screamed to be rid of it. This was the worst horror I could ever…
	...her other paw pressed down over the front of my diaper, massaging the soft, wet padding against my tingling sex. I convulsed, and my throat rocked...and I swallowed the sickening mouthful.
	“Good baby,” she whispered in my ear. Her grip on my muzzle relaxed, and I groaned weakly, my breath stinking of shit. I tasted only shit. I smelled only shit. And her powerful fingers kneaded through a foot of firm, swollen padding to press against my needy sex. I shook, feeling sick, feeling aroused, feeling...confused. I could only managed a weak whine as she guided my paw back to the dish, and her rubbing paw pressed harder as she guided the second morsel up to my reluctant mouth, pressing it against my lips until I parted them, grazing my teeth through the muck, before it slopped off onto the back of my tongue. I swallowed quickly this time, getting it well away from my tastebuds.
	I felt myself rise towards orgasm. No…please no…
	She chuckled softly in my ear.
	“Good little messy baby. Eat your breakfast like a good little girl. Be good for Mummy.”
	Another spoonful, heaped higher than before. I panted a heated breath over it, lips parting and ready. Her rubbing paw made me giddy. My biology was broken. How else could it be explained? I felt the tide rising, and I fought helplessly against it. She slowed the spoon, gradually easing it between my lips, the lips that were wide open and waiting for her to feed me.
	She was feeding me her own shit. My mind latched onto this fact, utterly failed to comprehend the reality of it...and discarded it.
	“M-mummy!” I gasped, before closing my mouth, pressing the spoon between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and smushing its load across the whole of my tongue. I pressed my head back against her shoulder and let out a muffled squeal as my sex exploded in orgasm…
	...and my mind fell away into nothing.

TS 11:20:19 18.09.2013
Agent(s): RC036845 
Subject(s): AA000023
Log type: X-409 critical findings.

Additional testing will be needed to determine with full confidence the exact parameters of the X-409 accident and its effects. However, the following hazards are tentatively suggested in the current hypothesis:

1: Exposure to X-409 in an uncalibrated state results in a full mental regression to a “blank state”
2: An exposed person will recover from the effects of X-409 when kept in long-term close proximity to a third party.
3: The third party will “inherit” the effects of X-409.
4: It is currently unclear if the effect can then be passed on from the third party in the same way.

Until further testing is authorised, I recommend the following protocols to ensure safe containment of X-409’s effects:

1: Exposed person shall be contained within a bare isolation cell (safety-padded). No long-term occupancy shall be allowed for any other persons within 20m of the cell.
2: Exposed person shall be sealed in a CKC full-body diaper (Class 6).
3: Exposed person shall be fitted with a nutrient recycler (Class 9), with 30 day supplement tank and reinforced hydration line.
4: Exposed person shall be assessed by rotating staff members once every 90 days.

Protocols shall be reassessed annually.

Acting Safety Executive Jennifer Hughes.

Nice and warm and squishy.
	Bored.
	I rolled onto my back and lay my arms out either side of me. Diaper squishy! Diaper all over my arms and legs and butt and face and everywhere! Big comfy diaper cocoon.
	I rolled onto my front, and felt everything wash over my body. All the wetness sloshing about inside the diaper suit. Squish squish squish. Messy mucky icky wetness.
	Just my nose peeped out!
	Couldn’t breathe through my mouth. Nope! Food comes there. I make a nice big mess in my suit, and then the tube from my tummy to the wall adds water with funny-tasting stuff in it, and it all sloshes about, and then I get to drink it through the squeezy tube in my mouth.
	Didn’t like it before. Like it now. Tasty tasty messies. And I get to eat it whenever I want. I just have to make a mess and wait.
	I rolled back onto my back, felt it all slosh over me again. All over my body. Nice and warm and wet and poopy inside the suit. I liked my suit. It made me happy.
	Happy happy happy.
	Kinda wanted to be able to see. But nope, just dark. Snuggy suit all over me. Eyes closed with some stuff on them so they don’t open. I can rub my face on the slimy padding, feel it get all on my fur. I wish I could smell it.
	I explored the room ages ago. Don’t need to do it again. Just the walls and floor, all soft and bouncy. Can just lie here. Don’t have to think about anything.
	Tingles.
	Tingles down there. Paws can’t reach. Padding on my paws. Padding down there. Sometimes I whine, when I’m not eating. Sometimes I don’t like it.
	But mostly I’m happy.
	Happy little baby.