Side Effects May Include...
By Musuko

Joel and Eric

The face in the dark shadow beyond the curving light of the lamp was all but invisible, but even so Joel could tell that it was smiling. It wasn’t the most comforting smile, made all the worse for its hidden nature. He tried not to squirm in the cold seat. He tried to keep his attention where it was meant to be; on the sheets of paper neatly laid out on the metal table in front of him.
	“And this is completely free,” he said, towards the shadows. “Right?”
	“Completely free, Mister Stephens.” The voice churned like gravel. A voice of a million cigarettes, or one electronic modulator. “All the terms are laid out in full before you.”
	The pen felt heavy beneath Joel’s fingers. He knew, of course, that this was a bad situation. It didn’t matter that he had intended to get himself here. But he closed his fingers around the pen, steadying it. He could do this. He had done it before. This was just like picking up drugs when he was in college; a dip into the seedy half of the world. A dip, nothing more. He would drop in, get what he needed, and jump right back out again with the minimum of stain.
	And this...this was too good a deal to pass up. Of course there were penalties and traps. They were all in front of him, spelled out in black and white. Terms that were unpleasant, but known. And known terms could be avoided. Nothing more ominous than the heavy interest rates on a credit card. That’s what he told himself, anyway.
	Still, it took an effort of will to move the pen and leave his mark on the dotted line.
	“Very good, Mister Stephens,” drawled the voice.
	“What now?”
	“My assistant will provide you with the product on your way out.” A paw gestured out from the darkness, catching the light from the lamp. A leather glove gleamed, masking any hint of the species.
	“And what about…” Joel gestured to the papers.
	“Duplicate copies will be delivered to you in five to ten days. You are free to leave, Mister Stephens.”
	Joel knew when a suggestion should be taken as an order. He lingered just a few moments longer, eyes darting across the pages, just in case he had missed something. It was all there, right? He had read and understood it all? Nothing to worry about? The shadow offered no help, and the black threat of it all hurried him towards the door.
	“Alright, kiddo,” said the assistant, the grubby little rat Joel knew as Mark (or Jakob, or Steve, or Mikey. It changed every time he saw him). Even now his presence here seemed strange to Joel. The rat was just that guy behind the bar who could get you what you wanted. He was the necessary bit of dirt that connected the innocent to the truly dangerous. A bit of a buffer. And really, he was quite likeable. And who would have thought he could also be found on that internet forum…
	He at least had the decency not to smirk. It was all a little embarrassing. But the rat was a drug dealer...so he’d seen it all and worse, right?
	“He said you’d have…”
	“Ah! Righto.” The rat parted his jacket and fished into a pocket amongst many. Out came a little silver pill case, distinct from the various baggies and balls of tin foil he usually delivered. “This the one, right?”
	“I don’t know, is it?”
	Mark looked at the case. He sniffed it. He gave it a little rattle. “Fink so. Hold on a sec.” He dived into his pocket for a further rummage. “Yup, this is the one.”
	Joel carefully lifted it away from Mark’s fingers. Just a tiny little case, with one or two little pills inside. Definitely no more than three. If they really did what they said they would do…
	“Let me know how it goes, yeah?” Mark jabbed his elbow into the air beside him and did something strange and twitchy with his expression. It took Joel a moment to realise he was attempting a literal “nudge nudge, wink wink.”
	“Uh, yeah,” said Joel. “I’ll let you know.”

It was a heart-racing drive home, taking a few more turns than normal, paranoia ramped right up. On his way back from a drug deal unlike any other. Oh jeez, to explain this to the cops! But finally, after far too long, the calm safety of his suburban idyll. His pretty white-panelled home in a white-panelled neighborhood, surrounded by innocence and conservative serenity.
	Eric greeted him. Not at the door. He couldn’t do that. He called from the other end of the house, rattling the toddler gate and crying out happily.
	“Daddy!”
	Joel made sure to shut the door, quickly. Eric didn’t need to care about the attention of the neighbours, of course. That was the point. But Joel did. That was his responsibility.
	“Hello, my big baby boy!” He held his arms wide and ran up the hall, reaching down to scoop under Eric’s arms and tug him up for a hug. He couldn’t lift him, but he could bring his knees up off the floor and let his weight temporarily rest on his feet. “Have you been good for daddy?”
	“Uhuh! Look!”
	Eric gestured, and Joel leaned past the doorway to look. The play room was at its tidiest he had seen it in days. Eric had done very well, considering his current limitations.
	“Oh my!” said Joel. “That’s very good! Well done.”
	Eric coo’d happily and fell back onto his knees as Joel let go. He rocked back onto his rear and looked up at Joel with the sweetest smile of vacant happiness. Joel could almost believe it was real. He thought of the pill case, heavy in his pocket. Soon, he thought, soon it would be.
	“Now baby-butt,” he said, resting his paws on the toddler gate. “Daddy needs you to be a grown-up again.”
	“Aww!”
	“Only for a little bit. I’ve got a present to show you.”
	“Oh? What is it, daddy?”
	“It’s a surprise.”
	“No fair!”
	“You’ll find out in a minute! Be patient.” Joel patted the gate and gestured towards himself. “Come on, turn around and I’ll get the straps.”
	Slowly, reluctantly, Eric turned, and the sad, disheartening process of demolishing the illusion began. First the straps came away, letting his feet come away from the backs of his thighs. Then the padlocks came off the sleeper, allowing it to peel away, bringing the thickly-padded mittens off of his paws, freeing his fingers. The heavy diaper stayed, of course, its load thick and stinky and threatening the strength of the waist tapes. And as the gear came away, the dim, happy look in Eric’s face faded and resolved back into the adult that Joel had met and grown to know, but not the one he had fallen in love with. Joel helped Eric up, a supporting paw to help weak, unexercised legs, letting Eric stand and put his arms around his boyfriend.
	A shared kiss, sweet and loving.
	“Mwah!” said Eric. There was always a lingering cubbishness in him, present at every moment. It was the first clue all those years ago that led the pair to this.
	“You need a changie?”
	Eric shook his head. “What’s my surprise?”
	“Come see.” Joel stood back and released the gate. Eric could step over it if he wanted to, now the sleeper and its constricting straps were off. But doing so just wouldn’t do. They moved through into the living room, and Eric got to sit like a grownup for the first time today. He didn’t seem too pleased by it. He wanted to be back in the nursery. Time was passing, the weekend was close to ending, and the horrible drudgery of adult life was due to begin again on monday morning.
	Joel sat down and placed the little pill case on the coffee table between them.
	“What’s that?”
	“It’s a little pill,” said Joel. “One that’ll make you into a real baby.”
	“What do you mea…” Eric’s breath caught. “You mean...like in…”
	“Yeah,” said Joel. “Like in the news story.”
	They both stared at the pill box. The story had been a fire to their relationship. It was a story told about threat and menace, about a new designer drug out there that was dissolving the minds of those who took it, turning them into drooling idiots. But where the glossy talking heads saw danger, they saw opportunity.
	Eric hugged his arms tight around himself. “But,” he said. “I...I don’t...can we really do it? For real, I mean. Not just...hell, where did you get it.”
	“Don’t worry about where I got it, little one.” Joel smiled, and it was infectious. “Here, look.”
	He popped open the case. It unfolded easily enough. There inside were two pills, a black one and a white one. Joel touched them in turn. “They explained it to me, very clearly. The black one sends you down. The white one brings you back.”
	Eric bit his lip. “Only one time?”
	“Yes. But,” and Joel smiled. “You can stay that way for a long time. Years even. As long as I want you to.”
	Eric seemed to shrink in his seat, tucking his shoulders in towards himself, lowering his head, hugging his arms tight around himself. He mewled. “I’d l-like that, daddy.”
	“You’ll have to quit your job. But that’s been the plan all along, right?”
	Eric nodded. He was staring at the pills.
	“We can do it right away, if you want.”
	“Right now?”
	“Right now.”
	Eric rocked in his seat, a squeal in his throat. His rocking brought his rear rolling back and forth against the sodden mess in the seat of his diaper, where a day’s worth of freely-dropped mess sagged. “Let’s do it now daddy!”
	“Okay!” said Joel. “But first, let’s get you changed, stinky butt!

Eric, freshly-padded and strapped in place on his changing table, wrists and ankles held in warm, fleece-lined baby cuffs, his body strapped across his middle, looked up at Joel with his adorable eyes, so filled with life and emotion. Joel readied the pill in my palm, rolling it between his fingers.
	“Ready?”
	He nodded. “Yes daddy!”
	“Say ah!”
	Joel placed the pill on Eric’s pink tongue, then placed the teat of his bottle against his lips. Eric started to suckle, gulping down the warm milk and taking the pill with it. He closed his eyes and murmured contently, breaking the suckle to let the milk gurgle and bubble. Joel pulled the bottle away and stood, watching and waiting. Eric was strapped for a reason. Just in case...just in case the pill went wrong.
	Nothing seemed different. Not right away. Eric looked up at him with the happy, dazed look he always got when he was diapered and babied. The true Eric. The real Eric, stripped away from all that silly adult nonsense. But the more Joel watched, the more he noticed...something fading away. That little hint of spark and awareness in Eric’s eyes, the little part of him that was always there, lucid and aware and grown-up, hovering behind the act of babyishness.
	Joel gasped, his paw to his mouth. Eric the adult was gone. Truly gone. With no fuss or drama he had died. And now only the real Eric remained; the mindless, happy cub looking up at him with his vague, vacant smile.
	“Eric?”
	The diapered kitty coo’d and wiggled his body against the straps. No recognition of the words. Just happiness at hearing his daddy’s voice. Joel tried not to cry! It was perfect! He unstrapped Eric’s wrists and felt how his arms moved in limp, directionless flops. He fumbled at the rest of the straps, in a hurry to get his baby boy free. Eric seemed to be discovering his mouth, testing it out with strange burbles and raspberries. A ball of bubbles grew on his lips and spilled down the side of his muzzle, to be replaced by another ball of spit. He was free, laid on the changing table with nothing to hold him, nothing on his body but the diaper, but he only wiggled. No control, no effort to move. No awareness of self. Just a happy ball of nothing.
	Joel slid his arm under Eric’s bare back and pulled him up into sitting position. Eric blew a wet raspberry right at his ear, and one paw rose up to bat at Joel’s face. He nudged it back down with ease. Another arm went under Eric’s knees, and with a grunt he stood and lifted Eric, cradled against him. He was heavier than he expected: his weight was so different. And Joel realised: normally, Eric’s instincts overruled his babyishness. He would stiffen when needed, or relax, or move himself so, or hold his weight on his arms this way or that way. He would be easy to carry because he was trying to be easy to carry.
	But now...now he wasn’t trying to do anything. He was a squirming, burbling mass of mindless cubbishness. If Joel didn’t keep his arms under him, he would sag and flop out of his grasp. His arms added no support; instead they flapped about and pawed at him. Joel got a finger in his nostril! Eric giggled so happily and sprayed a dribble of spit down his chin.
	“Perfect,” whispered Joel, carrying his baby boy to the bedroom. He shared kisses with every step, and Eric wasn’t too far gone to be unable to give them back, tenfold even! His were eager, happy pecks, delivered with sloppy enthusiasm. More like licks, even. Big wet licky lappy kissy smacks of happy loving affection. It was adorable! Joel almost wanted to dance with Eric, and the urge became too much to resist. Just the one spin, around in a circle in the middle of the bedroom, furniture and walls spinning past them in a blur.
	“Whee!” cried Eric, flopping his arms up and them bringing them down with a flump onto Joel’s chest. Joel laughed, meeting Eric’s drooling grin with another kiss, then sat down into the comfortable embrace of the bed. It was about time...to enjoy his new baby boy!

Six months of glorious babyhood followed for Eric. His mind was an empty shell of emotions and sensations, without a single thought or care that extended beyond the colorful walls of his nursery and the loving attentions of his boyfriend.
	But the dreaded day came. The one that Joel had expected, despite not quite knowing what form it might come in. In the end a simple family engagement was the undoing of the bliss, and when Eric was expected to attend in formal wear and respectful dignity, the effect of the pill could not remain.
	So, with great reluctance, Joel lay the pill on Eric’s tongue and washed it down with a nice warm bottle of relaxing milk. And slowly, he watched the awareness dawn back in his baby’s eyes.
	A week later, Joel returned with the rat to the dark, ominous room. He sat in the chair in front of the stack of the papers, and listened to the shadow speak.
	“Your next dose, as you might expect, will not be entirely free…”

Lucy

She gripped the strap of her bag. No, not now. No! No! She hurried through the crowd, trying to get past people without barging into them. The exit was no good. The car was too far away. And to have it happen whilst driving...no, that was unthinkable. She should have known. Being too busy this morning. Thinking, oh it’ll be okay...I’ll just do it later. I can just go for a quick trip to the mall, get my shopping done, then do it later when I’m safe back at home.
	But no. The store just had to have a special sale on. Why did she have to go in there last? Earlier on, maybe she could have managed it, kept it suppressed with other thoughts. But after a whole morning of ignoring the itch and saving it for later, to just pop into that one shop for...hell, she couldn’t even remember now...and seeing it there, all over the place. Great big displays of half-price diapers. Great big packs. 16! 32! One mega-monster pack of 200 diapers! She could have dived into them right there, ripping open the packs and just burying herself in them! The soft squidgy feeling through smooth plastic. The smell! The texture!
	And then the tickle got her, and she knew it was coming. The heat between her legs. The itch. The throb. The need. Rub me now it said. And then it was too late. The tug was in the back of her mind, pulling her back...reeling her in from the conscious world. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She could only give in to it.
	Bathroom! Bathroom, that was the only hope. She tore through the crowds, homing in on the sign for salvation. There was a line! But that didn’t matter. She dived past and shouldered open the door for the baby changing station. Perfect. So very fitting for this emergency. She shut the door as gently as she could manage and locked it with shaking fingers. She had to rub her baabaa...had to rub...had to rub.
	She dropped her bag off her shoulder and let it clatter to the floor. She tore at her shirt, pulling it up and off her head, popping buttons. She didn’t care. The bra next, ripped off and stuffed into the bag. Jeans, gone, peeled in haste off her legs and kicked away. Sneakers discarded into the corners of the room. Too shaky. No no-longer packing clothes away. Just shedding. Baabaa! Must must must!
	Tear the bag open, rummage inside. Tug out the emergency diaper. Lay it open on the floor. Wish to be smaller, to fit on the changing table. Oh god...throbbing. She closed her eyes and tried to focus. Not yet...not yet. Down came her panties, kicked off her foot, and her naked rear settled into the warm, comforting embrace of the padding. She could feel the numbness in her mind, the soft cotton-wool of emptiness flowing up around her, like a rising pool of warm water, ready to blot her out.
	Her fingers strayed across her baabaa, bringing an electric tingle. She slapped her own paw! No! Not yet! Bad girl! Get...get...what was she doing?
	She looked around, panicked, feeling very small and alone. Where was she? Where was...changing table! Oh...OH! Diaper, yes! She tugged at the tapes. Why wouldn’t they open? This wasn’t fair! Why must they be so complicated? She just wanted to...yes! The sticky bits were out now and she knew where they had to go. She rocked onto her back and wiggled and wiggled and wiggled, getting all snug in the diapey as she taped it all up nice and snug! Now she could rub her baabaa! Allowed now!
	Wait! No! There was...there was something! Got to think. She looked around again. Almost wanted to cry. Why was it so confusing? This was scary! Not the right place! She would get told off and...that was it! She needed her noonoo! In the bag! That’s it! She searched until she found it, and then gurgled happily as the big soft rubber teat of her noonoo filled her mouth snug and full. Mmmm! Lovely noonoo. She lay back with her head on the bag, her feet feeling cold on the floor, but that was okay. Her middle bit was all nice and warm in the big comfy diaper, and she could rub rub rub at her baabaa now. She sucked in her tummy and pushed her paw down under the waist band, reaching down to her baabaa, to rub and rub and make the hot feeling go away.
	And as she rubbed, she felt the warm water rise. Not a slow ascent now, but a rising torrent. A flood. She felt her thoughts blast away, leaving nothing but the dim haze of cubby contentment. Each tickle of her fingertips drove a little more away. She knew that if she stopped, she could save her mind, she could stay lucid and adult. But she couldn’t. The heat wouldn’t let her. She had to stroke herself. And as she stroked, she wiped her mind. And as her mind went, her control went. She started to wriggle and coo, drooling past the fat bulb of her noonoo. Her rubbing fingers started to falter, forgetting their purpose. The cubbish mind came...and the adult mind went. And with it went the adult stimulation, and the heat stayed, endless and unsatisfied and frustrating.
	She rolled on the tiles, babbling noisily, but rendered quiet and safe by her noonoo. The drool trickled down her chin and got into the fur of her neck. She didn’t care. She was so happy! The light up on the ceiling was bright and funny! The room was weird. She tried to roll onto her tummy, but she was stuck. She wanted to stand up but she couldn’t figure out how. Her tummy felt funny. All warm and tickly and stuff!
	This is how she would be, and she would know it if her mind hadn’t gone, for the next hour or so, until her arousal wore away to nothing again. And the cycle would begin anew, giving her her mind back until it triggered once more. Just a glance of the crinkling padding, or a whiff of the talc. It’s all it’d take to drop her back into the dull bliss. If she was lucky, she could rub and climax and end it early. Or she could let it happen and enjoy it, in the comforting safety of her own home, surrounded by her plushies, dressed in her pretty dress and suckling on her noonoo.
	But here...in this strange room, on this cold floor? She started to tremble, a little scared, and suckled on her noonoo a bit harder. She started to sniffle, and her cooing noises became whimpers. She bubbled her spit out past the rubber. And in the middle of it all, with her paw still stuffed down her diaper, laying limply over her baabaa, she felt her body give up on the morning’s coffee and cereal. The change came without her feeling it. Her body let go inside, beyond her control, and she only knew it was happening from the sudden heat and wetness splashing past her fingers. She squealed in excitement, her fear forgotten. Waawaa! She wiggled her fingers and felt the stinky water get all over her paw and soak up through the fur on her wrist. She kicked her feet and stroked her other paw through her tummy fur. She pressed her feet into the floor and lifted her padded butt up, and felt the waawaa trickle down through her tummy fur, leaking past her waistband and getting all over her body! Naughty! Naughty fun fun!
	She rolled onto her tummy, with a wet smush, and kept wiggling her fingers inside the wet padding. It felt good. She made louder squealing noises, pushing her noonoo out a little. Her drool puddled on the tiles. She heard some thumping noises and didn’t care.
	“Mmmrrrgh!” she cried, her face scrunching up. Gloopy feeling! Her tummy felt funny and her bottom started to burp. The seat of her diaper pushed out as the stinky air pushed out. And it felt good! So she kept doing it...whatever it was. Her fingers wiggled and her bottom tensed and she felt the wet splutter of mushy liquid push against the diaper padding. Her empty little head contained no words for the experience...just floaty feelings and sensations. Happy and dirty! She grunted through her noonoo and filled the room with her stinky noise as her mess coiled out into the diaper and pressed against its confinement, pressing flat and spreading out across her furry butt. She made a squealing noise as the last of it pushed free with another wet farty noise. Then...then! Then she rolled over onto her back and felt it squish under her butt. She laughed and let the noonoo fall from her mouth. She pulled her paw out of her diaper and clapped happily, then unthinkingly stuck her pee-soaked thumb into her mouth for a happy suckle. She didn’t even register the jingle of keys, nor the click of the lock, nor the shape of a person in the doorway, nor the gasps and cries. She was a happy little cub, and had nothing to care about for a few hours. Being grown up and worried would wait for later!

The figure in the darkness was no more reassuring than the concrete wall behind it, nor the metal table and chair, nor the bright light above her. She shifted in her seat, arms hugged around herself to hide her naked chest. Not that modesty really mattered now, she thought, as she sat there in the stinking heap of her sagging, bloated diaper.
	“In circumstances such as these,” spoke the shadow, “we are prepared to offer you free treatment at our treatment facility.”
	“I don’t want-”
	“You were allowed access to our product under strict conditions of confidentiality. That has now been broken. Considering the charges you face and the incentive you will have to speak in your defence to save yourselves, putting us at a disadvantage in the process, we have no alternative but to offer you treatment as an alternative.”
	“This isn’t an offer, is it?” said Lucy. “I have no choice, do I?”
	“Ah, my girl,” said the voice. Lucy saw teeth smiling in the dark. “Now you’re understanding the situation.”
	Lucy sagged in the chair. She couldn’t summon up enough gravitas to put up even a thin front against the situation. She wished they’d have given her a diaper change. Wait, no, what was she thinking? No diaper at all! She didn’t have to…
	...yes she did, she admitted to herself. Of course she did. She looked up at the dark figure, and her eyes must have said everything the stranger needed to know.
	“Of course, due to your...unique reaction to our product, I would feel comfortable in offering you a…” the stranger paused, and a rumble drew out, a thoughtful noise, “offering you a rather more nuanced role in the facility.”
	Lucy tilted her head, ears perked. She was listening.

She held herself stiff and braced against the temptation all around her. The bag of bottles weighed heavy against her side, making her attempts to wade through the thick piles of cushions and plushes a struggle. It added to the waddle that the thick diaper, taped and locked around her middle, gave her. The mindless adults reduced to squirming cubbishness squirmed on the floor around her. Some of the more aware ones pawed at her ankles and patted their paws against their mouths, babbling the various nonsense words for “bottle”.
	She took a deep breath and tried not to think about the soft, fluffy diaper lining rubbing against her naked sex. She tried not to think about the stink of baby powder and diaper plastic and, above all, potent ponging mess. She fought the rising murmur of her desires. She had a job to do! She had to get it done. Once it was done, maybe then…
	She set the bag down and settled onto her knees next to the pair of boy kitties. She knew them to be a couple, even talked with them in their lucid moments. She forgot their names, though. Her own mind fought with her, and wiped so much when she descended each time into that empty fog. She knew they were nice, though. And, unlike so many around her, were happy to be here even when they knew where they were.
	She bit her lip. Perhaps, in a way, she was the same.
	“Here, kitties!” she said, unbuckling the bag and sliding out two nice big bottles of milk. The boys dragged their stares away from each other and looked at her, wide-eyed and unblinking. They really were adorable. Adult, like the rest, but already young and boyish. Femmy little things. And now, naked except for the bulbous swell of their diapers, they looked like the little babies that their minds were.
	Slowly, falteringly, they each crawled and flopped over to her, getting tangled up in each others arms. They both giggled together, batting their paws at each other’s faces, and coming away with paws drenched in drool, with clinging strings of it webbing between their fingers. Her heart flipped, and she took deep breaths. Got to concentrate. Don’t think about it. Don’t let it take you. Not yet.
	Their fumbling paws pulled at her thighs, and the pair crawled their way up towards her, eyes wide and eager, mouths already open, tongues probing. Their closeness brought the smells to her nose. A pair of heavily-loaded diapers, swimming in milk-fed mess. And something else, rising from the fur on their muzzles and their paws. The musky smell of boy seed, all over the place! And now she looked, she could see it, caked into their fur, matting it into little clumps. The naughty boys had spooged all over each other, and looked very pleased about it too! From the heat flushes she could see in their kitty ears, it wasn’t long ago either. That means at least one of them was lucid. She stifled a small whine. Don’t think about it!
	“Drinkies time,” she said. “Come and get your nums!”
	Their sticky little paws pressed against the bulge of her diaper as they clambered their way up her. She bit her lip and squealed. Their drooly, needy maws reached for the bottles, each going “Ah ah!” She manouvered them into position, and they latched on, instantly settling down into a snuggle against her, their naked fur against hers, one on each side, cuddled in under her arms, their throats bobbing as they suckled rapidly on the bottles.
	Phew!
	She lay back into the cushions, and they settled in with her. The smells were inescapable now. She could do nothing except bathe in them. And there it was, the tickling heat, firing in and beginning its relentless gnaw at her mind. But that was okay. She had fed the boys. The others...the others could wait for a little while. Her arms squeezed a little more snugly around their slender shoulders, and they squealed and gurgled around the rubber. Like twins, their actions mirrored each other. Both sported a trickle of milk down their cheeks, and neither seemed inclined to wipe them away.
	She pressed her legs together. The need was becoming urgent now. Already she could feel the cracks up through her thoughts, the rising fog ready to take her away into blissful mindlessness.
	“F-finish up now, l-little ones,” she gasped, struggling to put the words together. Her arms were untangling from them, and they protested with squeaky noises as they shifted to adjust themselves.
	One bottle finished and empty, with wet, noisy slurps of suckling against air. Then within seconds the other, and both detached from the rubber, spilling the last few droplets down their chins. Their eyes half-closed, groggy with satisfaction. They lay back down at her sides, settling in on top of her arms, pinning them in place.
	Nuh! Nuh fair! She tried again, straining against the weight of the sleeping kitties, flexing her fingers as much as she could. She tried to thread her arms out from under them, but they were squeezed between them and the the cushions. Stuck!
	She wriggled a little. The fading thoughts of her lucid mind knew that her strength faded away along with her adult mind. She was as weak as a cub. She was stuck.
	She grunted, weak from the effort of dislodging the snoozing boys. She had to rub...had to rub her baabaa! Right now! Nuh fair! Nuh! They got to rub theirs! They got all sticky and naughty all over themselves! She wriggled about, trying to roll her hips to the sides. The cushions just shifted about beneath her. With a feeble whimper, she lay still again, letting the tickly burn tease her, with nothing to rub it satisfied except for tickly, teasy diaper padding.
	Time passed in an empty cloud of squirming wriggles and uncomfortable need. The other grown-up cubbies had their fun around her, getting fed by others while she was ignored. Her constant, high whimpers caught the attention of a diapered girl, and as she shuffled over on her knees, she was able to see what kind of cubby she was. One of the naughty, messy ones! She breathed a little more quickly, kicking her feet.
	“Prrrrff!” squealed the new girl, flopping forwards and planting her paws on Lucy’s tummy. She yeeped at the wetness. Messy poopy paws on her fur, fingers starting to wiggle. The heat in her crotch shot up, and the last of her mind crumbled away into cubby nonsense.
	“Baabaa!” she cried, bumping her diapered hips up and down. The new girl ignored her, or just didn’t understand, and started crawling up towards her head, bumping against the sleeping boys and making them shift in their sleep. As she came closer, her messy mouth became clear, with poop caked in the fur around her lips, and caught between her teeth. Her tongue swam in more of it. Lucy squealed breathlessly, and as their lips met, she felt the heat explode inside her diaper, and the cruel burning faded away. She felt right again, peaceful and cubbish, and free to do what she wanted to do as a cub.
	Her knees raised. Her heels pressed in against the cushions. Her relaxed bottom lost its control, and she treated nearby ears to the phutphutphut spurting noise of her wet little farts. The new girl giggled, right against her ear, and started to lick messily and stinkily at her cheek. Lucy mewled and wriggled in return, as she felt the first spread of the big, thick nugget of poop push its head against the waiting padding. Not loose and slippery like the other cubs, oh no. She could have real food when she was thinking like a grown-up.
	The new girl must have had a radar for fresh poop. She fumbled and bumped around until she was facing the other way, kneeling clumsily and uncomfortably on Lucy’s chest for a moment, before slipping down, nudging the boys’ heads out of the way. They mewled in their sleep and rolled over, and Lucy got the freedom of her arms back. Before she could wriggle and move, the new girl sat her sagging, yellow and brown stained diaper butt squarely on Lucy’s face with a big wet squish!
	Riiiiip! Nuh! That was naughty! Lucy felt a scary looseness around her waist. Her diaper was coming off! Nuh! She kicked her legs, but it didn’t help. She felt the air empty and cold and mean against her bare fur. She cried out in protest, but the sagging weight of the diaper sank firmer onto her face. She felt paws touching at her butt, feeling at the poop falling freely and helplessly out of her rear. She heard the new girl giggling, and then the shifting above her muzzle as fresh mess, unseen but felt, sloppy and loose and milk-fed, started to swell up the diaper over her nose even more, making it sag and press all over her face. She turned her head, getting enough air through her nose, stinky and rich with poop smell! Mmmph!
	Heeee! The new girl giggled happily, and she could feel those paws rubbing about all over her crotch, slick and lubed with messy icky lovely tasty wonderful poopies! She spread her legs wider and squealed into the diaper, feeling so good as those fingers stroked about, drawing patterns of brown into her fur, turning her into a canvas of cubby art.
	The paws stopped their roaming, and she felt them between her thighs, scooping at the mess piled up on the open diaper. The sagging, smelly padding pressed over her muzzle lifted up, and in the new light she blinked, and saw the new girl’s grin appear over her as she shuffled back around, her paws cupping a slimy, steaming log, fresh from her own rear. The girl cood happily and held it out towards her nose.
	With a gleeful mew, she opened her mouth wide. Ahh!

Ryan and Jenny

“Fuck yeah.” He tore into the parcel with a swish of his claw. Lots of paperwork and instructions. Fuck that. The bottle’s the thing. Sweat from a yak or some shit like that. Who cares, right? All that matters is what it does. And what this stuff does...fucking hell it’s worth the cash. That guy was hung! Not like Ryan would ever look, of course. But it was flapping about all free and heavy in the gym, you know? A guy can’t help but catch a glance. So this guy says “you want these pills.”
	And holy fuck it worked didn’t it? Not like Ryan measures, of course. Only insecure guys do that. But it was definitely bigger afterwards. Like, maybe a half inch longer? And definitely a bit thicker. And the bitch really made noises that night! Like she’d never done before. So of course he was gonna buy some more. Kicked the bitch off her computer for a few minutes. She yaks too much to her friends on there anyway. Stuck in that website the guy gave him and, presto, bunch of pills on their way for twenty-eight bucks plus shipping.
	“Take one per day”, he reads off the label. Fuck that! How many pills were in there? Shaking the bottle and a rough count. Maybe twenty? Twenty pills. That’s...hmm.
	No shame in taking a moment to do the math. Ten inches. Fuck yeah! Ryan popped the cap and necked the lot.
	Into the shower. Gonna get fresh for the bitch. Fuck yeah, she’s gonna love her surprise. Gonna make her scream. Do her in the stink maybe? Fuck yeah!
	Towel off. Hold the trouser titan in paw. Squeeze the knot. Mmm, yeah. Bigger maybe? Looks like it might be. Strut through the apartment fresh and naked. Grab an energy drink. Gonna need it! Fuck it, grab two. Three even! Fill up on the fucking caffeine and sugar shit. Crunch the cans in his paw and toss them in the sink. The bitch can get them later. If she can walk!
	Pump for a while in front of the mirror. Work up the guns. Looking good! And definitely bigger down there. Holy hell, look at it go...can see it swelling up! Can…whoah. Fuck…
	He dropped down onto his knees, his legs feeling like they’ve given way. He fell forward onto all fours, gasping. The fuck? He reached for the bottle, weakly batting at it with outstretched fingers, and lost his balance. He fell forward, head smacking heavily against the floor. Fuck! Ow! He rolled over onto his back, clutching his head. That hurt! He felt wetness in his eyes. Crying? But...but…
	There was no stopping it. The urge to bawl rose and overwhelmed him. He rolled about from side to side, getting less and less violent as the strength ebbed from his body. The pain faded. His thoughts faded. His paws fell away from his head and flopped limply at his sides. He stared vacantly at the ceiling, thinking nothing, feeling nothing. Just an empty cloud, like cotton wool, like cotton candy. Sweet and ethereal and meaningless.
	He started to giggle.

Jenny hated having to take the bus home. But after Ryan totalled her car...well, what could she do? Ten hours at the restaurant and then an hour commute home. She was not in the mood for his fucking around. Please oh please, just once could he have taken the trash out. Please lord, let the apartment be clean. Maybe even have him offer a nice massage? Make me a drink perhaps? Would that be too much to ask?
	The smell hit her as she opened the door. She let it swing wide, dropping her keys as she clutched her nose. Oh god...what the hell? Had he clogged the fucking toilet again? No, worse than that. It must be! She quickly shut the door. If the neighbors smelled that, they’d lose their deposit for sure. She ran to the window, holding her breath, and slammed it wide open. Better the stink of exhaust fumes than...oh dear god, what was that smell?
	“Ryan?” she called. “Honey? Are you home?”
	She heard something crash in the bedroom. Like, a lamp falling over perhaps? Fuck...this wasn’t good, was it? She froze still, listening, and carefully reached into her purse. Her fingers closed around the reassuring metal, and the gun held up gave her back her confidence. Deep breath and rush the door!
	“Alright fuckers, paws up! What the…”
	Her paw lowered with the gun. Then clapped to her mouth with the other. She fought back a violent urge to vomit. She shrieked and threw the gun away, only remembering as it fell how stupid that was. But...what was before her. The fuck?
	“Gooo!”
	Ryan sat in what remained of their bed. The sheets were pulled up and twisted around in a circle, all tangled up like the aftermath of a good fuck. But...oh fuck, the vomit rose in her throat again.
	“Ryan!” she screamed. “What the hell?! Is that...oh god, it is, isn’t it?”
	The smell. The color of the sheets. The glistening sheen to the wet smears. The entire bed was caked in...it was shit, it had to be! And there was Ryan, sat in the middle of it all, smiling like a lunatic, his fur covered in long trails of wet shit all across his chest and arms and...was that?
	“Your cock!” she cried, the shock of that almost more than the foul mess! It was at least two foot long! How the hell? What...she just couldn’t begin to fathom it all.
	“Heeeee! Brrrrbble!” Ryan rolled onto his back and cupped his paw underneath his shit-smeared rear. He made a happy gurgling noise, spitting drool down his chin to mingle with the brown smudges on his muzzle. He grunted and...a sticky, slick, wet noise accompanied the emerging tip of a fat log of shit from his rear, sliding into his waiting paw. Jenny stared in horror. No words. No words at all! She watched, frozen, as six inches of steaming brown shit fell into Ryan’s paw. She watched as he lifted it up and looked at it, turning it left and right, inspecting it and making happy, approving cooing noises. Then...then the vomit finally came, and she ran from the room, into the bathroom, and tried to flush away the memory of seeing Ryan open his mouth wide, push the fresh log of shit into it, mashing it against his tongue...then closing his mouth with a chomp, like he was enjoying a tasty candy bar.

Ryan was a happy wolf. The silly lady was gone. He had his tasty mushies all to himself. She wouldn’t take any of it! It was all for him! Num num! He rolled onto his side and pawed at the messy bed sheets and pulled hard! They peeled away from the bed, and he rolled away from them and thud...fell on the floor with the sheets on top of him! He was a sausage puppy, all snuggly wrapped up in the shitty sheets. Yay!
	“Pppffft!” he cried, giggling, spitting dirty drool up into the air and feeling it land back on his face. He kicked his feet and caught his claws against the sheets, then folded them up against himself. Nice snuggly cocoon of messy white cotton. It felt right, to be wrapped up in soft fabric with his mess all inside, mushed up against his fur. Maybe there was a way to be like that all the time! That would feel so good!
	He knew what to do when he wanted to feel good! He rolled over onto his tummy and felt his thingy get pressed between his slimy shit-covered tummy and the layers of shit-soaked sheets, with the floor underneath, nice and hard and pressy. All he needed to do was wiggle a bit and...mmm that felt so good! He pressed his knees against the floor and kinda rocked against them, rubbing his nice big thingy against the floor through all the layers. Nice! And at the same time, he scrunched up his face and squeeeeezed hard, and felt more lovely poopies push out of him, right into the sheets pulled taut against his butt. Oh that felt good! That felt right! That’s where poopies have to go...nowhere! Straight out and then trapped right against his butt! All smushed against nice soft fabric! That was right for poopies!
	His thingy felt nice rubbing against the floor, so he rubbed faster. And that felt even nicer, so he rubbed even faster!
	“Brrrrbblble!” He licked happily at the mess on the carpet right under his nose, felt all shivery and nice at the sweet taste of it. His thingy felt really big and hot and weird, but really good! He wanted to keep rubbing it, keep making a nice big mess inside the sheets, feeling it squeezing against his butt and smushing all over it. So good! And then with a big squeally, happy cry, he felt his thingy make poopy-wee-wee feeling too!
	And the fog lifted. And Ryan woke up to the stink and the sights and the taste.
	His howl woke the neighbors.

It would have taken legal help to track down the suppliers. Ryan hadn’t the first idea of who to ask or how to do it, let alone pay for it. Jenny stuck around, but fuck knows why. Gloating, perhaps? Maybe she just couldn’t resist a big cock. She seemed to accept, warily, that it was the pills that did it. She called them his retard pills. There were a few left in the bottle. She even threatened to use them on him if he was a dick.
	In the end, the suppliers came to them. One afternoon, while Jenny was down on her knees in the bedroom, scrubbing for the hundredth time the stains that were stubbornly keeping them sleeping in the living room. Not that she’d ever dare get back into bed with that fucker! Not to sleep anyway. Fuck knows what shitty mess she’d wake up next to. That cock, though...hoo boy was he making good use of it.
	A lion in the doorway, standing prim and proper and smart in a suit.
	“No I don’t want any, thank-”
	The way he smiled made her hesitate. The big paw reached out to her, and she flinched towards her gun. But in the paw was a bottle of little pills, and she recognised them.
	“Good afternoon, miss,” said the lion. “May I speak with you a moment?”

His name was Boopy and her name was Baabaa. They were nice and snuggly together, nose to nose, arms wrapped around each other. They had to do that, ‘cos the tight mittens strapped to their paws and strapped together wouldn’t let them stop hugging. Their naughty bits smushed together in the tight heat of their shared diaper, strapped snug around their middles with an open sea of sloshing shit and piss that spread through their fur with every movement.
	They fought through the morning, each wanting to be on top, to get some respite from the gloop, while the other stewed in it. They fought a wordless argument, babbling incoherently at each other from inches apart, their drool mingling and sharing and soaking their faces. Boopy was stronger, and won for most of the morning. He pressed down on top of her with a big silly grin on his face. She felt the combined wetness of their mess and pee trickle down around his waist, pooling underneath her butt. It was too much to fully soak up inside their sodden, unchanged diaper. Each day they added a little more to it. Their stink grew constantly. But…
	...every bit of it kept Boopy’s thingy pokey, pressing up against Baabaa’s tummy. It was big! And Baabaa felt all tingly and warm whenever it rubbed against her down there. And she was a clever girl! She knew how to beat Boopy. She wasn’t stronger, but she was smarter! So when Boopy was on top, winning, making her slosh about in all their icky mess, she would just slide up and down underneath him, rubbing against him, all slick and wet and messy, and watch his stupid, empty face get all panty and gaspy. And then...hah! She would roll him over and be on top and watch him pout and whine and flail about as the piss and shit cascaded back over to his side of their diaper. She would sit on top nice and still, no need for rubbies any more, and make a big happy face, and then let all the drool drip out of her mouth and onto his face. He whined like a little baby! Silly boy! And he would be stuck for a while, until he got strong again.
	She had no memory, of course, of doing this over and over and over. Days and days of the struggle, back and forth, bathing and sloshing in their own waste, each perfectly balanced against the other, never getting the upper paw. Even in sleep, they would roll and fret. Even during feeding, suckling on their double-teated bottle, each fighting to get more of the milk than the other, they would wriggle and struggle to be on top. Neither knew why. They just...did. The need sat wordless and deep inside their empty minds.
	He fought harder than usual, laying on top and resisting her throws to the sides. His brow wrinkled in unusual concentration, and the long string of drool from his open mouth came unbroken, trailing wetly across her muzzle. She squeezed her arms firm around his middle and dug her heels into the cushions, levering to rub harder and harder against his pokey thingy. Then...flip! But no! He stuck his leg out and braced against her. Her whine of wordless frustration matched his gurgling squeal of pleasure. And then, deep inside the muggy confines of the diaper, she felt the sticky splash that was similar, but not identical to, the spray that came whenever he peed. It felt gloopy and weird, and a different musky smell mingled with the stench of days old waste.
	He blinked. His eyes focused.
	“What...the fuck?” he gasped. His arms pressed against her back with unusual strength. He hauled upwards, and she rose with him, up into an awkward kneel. His head flew about, looking around the nursery.
	“The fuck is this? Help! Someone help!” He looked at her, and she blew a happy raspberry right on his nose! He recoiled.
	“Jenny? What is…” He spasmed as if hit, and turned his head away to the side. “What the hell is that smell? Oh god.”
	Hee! Silly!
	“Would you stop that?” he snapped. “Stop...stop drooling like a retard and help!”
	She let her weight fall backwards, and he got unbalanced and fell with her. Their smushy middles rubbed together again, the new stickiness mingling with the pee and poop and streaming down across her body and into the fur of her rear. It did feel kinda nice, really. But she still had to be on top!
	“Jenny, I…” He blinked rapidly and gasped. “I f-feel funny.”
	She wriggled underneath him, blowing spit bubbles under his nose. His eyes started to defocus. His mouth hung open, slack, and the drool started to bead on his lower lip once more.
	“Pfffftrrrble!” she cried, devolving into a giggle, and then heaved her weight against him and flipped him over onto his back, bathing his pokey stiffy in the wet heat of their waste. She snuggled in on top of him. Victory! Yay!

Lucile

She touched the brush to the canvas and, with a single stroke of teal, the sky was complete. She lay the brush down and stepped away. No more. If she did anything further, she would ruin it.
	She sat down in the broken old sofa in her studio and lay her inspiration box on her lap. With great ritual and reverence she opened up the battered wooden lid and surveyed the contents. Which would it be tonight? Not the stamina of the fizzy leaves. She already had the previous painting completed. She needed inspiration for the next, for the blank canvas sat up against the wall. There was only one candidate, really: the little white pills that sent her off into confused chaos of colours and shapes, sights and sounds. She cracked the lid of the bottle and sniffed inside, detecting the faint scent of lemons from the little chalky discs. She tipped one out into her paw, crumbled it into powder between her thumb and finger, then licked it up from her palm. The box went back on its table. She closed her eyes and lay back in the creaking sofa.
	The feeling that seeped into her head was not what she expected. By the time she had enough awareness to know that something was wrong, it was too late. The dull emptiness had pushed all the way through to fill her head with mindless nothingness, and she opened her eyes a new creature; dim and empty-headed.
	She squealed! Painty stuff! Colours! Her legs didn’t respond properly for her, and she flopped off of the couch and crawled on her paws and knees across the floor. In the empty-headed fog of her head she had one thought remaining true. Paint! Paint!
	The growling sensation hit her as she tried to reach up towards the paint tubes. It rumbled in her tummy and made her cry out and fall back down to the floor. She hugged her tummy and bawled. Hurty! She rolled over onto her back and cried, kicking her legs at the air. The rumbly feeling churned all through her tummy. And then with a big wet noise all the pain went away. She gasped and spread her legs, rubbing her paws lower down over her tummy and feeling down across her jeans. First, the wet feeling: spreading out from her tailhole across the seat of her jeans, soaking through the cotton of her panties and into the denim. She sighed contently. Felt nice! Warm and squishy! She wanted it to happen more! She rolled back over onto her tummy and pushed herself up onto her knees, butt in the air and tail pointed up. She pressed her cheek against the floor and stuck her thumb in her mouth, not even really knowing why. It just seemed...like a nice thing!
	She grunted, and closed her lips around her thumb, wetly suckling. It made her feel good. Her tummy rumbled again, and she squeezed. Her tailhole stretched around the slick heat of her mess, and the tip pushed out against the cotton of her panties. She mewled around her thumb, suckling harder, a purr starting to rise up through her throat. Felt nice! All squishy! She wiggled her rear and squeezed harder, and felt the mushy feeling push out against her clothes, trapped against the fabric and spreading out in the tiny gap between her fur and the cotton! Squishy smushy!
	In full flow now, she kept up the squeeze now she knew how to do it. She slurped on her thumb and rocked her hips from side to side, feeling the wet bulk spread across her rear and leak down her thighs. The seat of her jeans swelled out in a heavy, sodden swell, a dark brown stain spreading and soaking through the fabric. She rolled onto her back and squish, her butt pressed the heavy load between it and the floor, sending a torrent of it up between her thighs and across her crotch. She gurgled happily, thumb leaving her mouth with a wet pop. Paint!
	Her free paw wiggled its way down her tummy and pushed under the waistband of her jeans. Already the squishy mess was spreading across her tummy, getting sticky stains on her shirt. She rocked her hips down against the floor, pushing it all around and getting her paw all smeared and covered. Smelled really strong! Like...chocolate! Num! She lifted her messy paw up and looked at how the brown sticky lumps stuck in clumps between her fingers. She suckled on her thumb, and almost pulled it free so she could taste. But...but...paint!
	She wiggled over onto her knees and shuffled across to the wall. She felt the sagging weight of wet mess tug down at her jeans. She giggled through her thumb. Felt funny! Her paw reached out and, with a wet splot, it impacted the wall and left a perfect pawprint. But, it lasted only for a second, until she smeared her paw in a swipe across the wall, leaving an arc of pretty mess across the white paint. She coo’d happily through her thumb, bubbling spit past her knuckle. And with a happy giggle, she popped her thumb free and swapped paws, stuffing the messy thumb into her mouth and pushing the clean paw down into her soggy jeans, scooping out a pawful of shit to make a masterpiece with on the wall! It tasted delicious! And as she splatted the pawful against the wall to draw a big sloppy circle, she slurped at each finger in turn to get all the taste off of them, smearing her muzzle fur in the stinky gloop in the process.
	The house was big, with lots of places to paint. She had lots of mess to paint with, and so easy to do it! She could just shuffle on her knees to a whole new place and just scoop it out of her clothes. Half of it went on the walls, and half of it went back into her tummy, suckled off her fingers. She was deliriously happy. She couldn’t wait to make more tasty paint!
	The day wore on. It got dark and scary. She couldn’t reach up to the lightswitch. She wiggled on her knees and clumsily managed to climb up onto the comfy sofa. She pawed at the cushion until it was wet with a poopy patch, then curled up and snuggled comfily. Her butt felt wet and messy and nice. And the house smelled fragrant and comforting. She slid her thumb back into her mouth and murmured sleepily. Such a good artist! Everyone will be so proud!

She woke in the morning, groggy and confused, but lucid again. Her eyes took a while to adjust to the sights around her, and even when she saw it all she didn’t fully comprehend what she was seeing. Her pulse spiked, and the first fear was of intrusion, robbery, vandalism! Then the smell hit her, and her stomach churned. And as she fought the rising need to vomit, she felt the clinging wetness around her rear, and looked down to see the filthy state of her paws. Her voice rose in a fearful cry, and down the hall she heard the sound of her doorbell ringing, and then the front door opening. The voice that carried unseen from the hallway was heavy, like gravel.

Agreements and papers slid into nothingness as the second pill took effect. The painted house fell away. The fears disappeared. Disgust became delight. And the world travelled around her until she arrived at the pink room.
	She sat feeling warm and happy, half-buried in the big deep pile of snuggly cushions and plushies. She cuddled the big snuggly dragon plushie and chewed wetly on its spongy horn, as if obsessed with soaking her drool further and further down into its padding. Her toes wiggled, and she kept up a constant muffled commentary consisting of coos and giggles. The thick, pink nappy taped snugly around her middle was a constant source of soothing comfort, tapping into some fundamental wiring in her head. While it was there, she felt safe and happy. All her poopy painties can be saved and used!
	She could see others like her, all around. Mostly, they flopped about and wriggled. Was silly! They weren’t clever painters like her. Nu-uh! They were sillies! She told them they were sillies too, but they didn’t understand. They just made noises at her! Even when she poked them with the plushie dragon. So she suckled on the horn and blew big wet raspberries at the others when they came near.
	Hungry nums time! Nice bottles and snugglies for her. And lots of nice people to make happy noises and be nice to her! She liked that. And afterwards it was painty time, when her tummy went all funny and her diaper started to fill up.
	Today, she made a new friend. A liony friend, she thought. A girly girl lion! Rwar! Her new friend wasn’t like the others, because she didn’t make silly noises. She was nice and quiet and smiley, which she liked! She had a big floofy nappy on too, but this one was even bigger than hers. It went all the way up to under the arms of her new friend, and even went up over her shoulders too. It was weird! She tried to say hello, but her new friend just wriggled and drooled all over her chinny. She tried to hug her, but her new friend just wiggled about way too much, knocking her pawsies against her and being all uncomfy. They were big kitty paws, but they didn’t hurt. She was really gentle like a big snuggly kitten, and her clawsies had cute little rubber balls on them that squeaked when she squeezed them!
	She decided to call her new friend “Wiggles”. That was a good name! She told Wiggles that too.
	“Brrrffhll! Hehehe!”
	Wiggles seemed to understand! She kicked her feetypaws and made her big body-nappy scrunch up around her waist.
	Did you have nums, Wiggles? It didn’t look like you got any nums! That wasn’t fair. She sat down with Wiggles and thought hard.
	If Wiggles didn’t have any nums, she should make some nums for Wiggles!
	It was easy. She just had to wait for a while. The nums would come. Tasty painty nums. She played with the dragon plush for a bit, licking at its fuzzy snout, until she felt the gurgly feeling.
	Here comes the nums, Wiggles!
	She rolled over on top of the dragon plush and snuggled it tight, with her nappied rear up in the air. Her favourite way to make painty nums! She cuddled at the plushy and squeeeezed, feeling the mushy wet heat against her tailhole, pressing wetly out against the nappy, getting it all wet and dirty. It was runny nums today! Lotsa runny nums lately!
	She rolled back over to an audible squish as her nappy pressed against the cushions underneath her. The strong stink of milky poop filled her nose. She wiggled from side to side to get it all spread around inside her nappy. Felt really nice to have it all over her butt! She mewed happily and looked down at Wiggles. Wiggles didn’t even look back. She just stared up at the colourful ceiling, opening and closing her mouth without a sound, just adding more and more drool to the wet streaks down her cheeks. Her paws never stayed still. They just flopped about all over herself.
	Num nums time, Wiggles! She babbled cheerfully, making clever noises to tell Wiggles what was happening. She leaned forwards just a little bit and slid her paw down inside her nappy at the back. Her face took on a mask of intense concentration as she felt around inside the hot, fetid wetness, wiggling her fingers around until she found some perfect nums right down between her cheeks. Her paw came back out slick and shiny and stinking of nums!
	Say ah! She held her paw out to Wiggles, who finally focused her vacant eyes. Her nose twitched, and she sniffed. And then she burbled a little, funny little bubbly noises, and her aimless wiggling paws moved faster.
	Aww, no want nums? Gotta have nums! Oh, you do want nums? Silly babies, gotta use proper words like big grownup girls! She held her slimy paw closer to Wiggles’s nose. Her new friend looked at her for a moment, eyes focusing just a bit, before going vacant again and staring off at the ceiling! Brrh she said, kicking her feets. She opened her mouth super wide and mewled. Wiggles had no teefies! She must be really young! Poor Wiggles! She would just have to help her with nums, seeing as she didn’t seem to know how to do it for herself. She cupped her paw over Wiggles’s mouth and pushed the big smushy pawful of nums right between her lips, and held her paw there so she couldn’t spit it out. Wiggles wriggled about and flapped her weak pawsies everywhere. But she was nice and kept her paw over Wiggles’s mouth until all the nums was gone.
	Wiggles’s mouth stayed open when her paw moved away, just a big drooly maw covered in messy nums. Her tongue licked around at it, and the noises she made were all confused and thoughtless. She patted at her nappy-covered tummy, getting nums on the pink plastic. Hehe, silly! Nums go inside the nappy, not outside! She guessed Wiggles must still be hungry. Babies need lots of nums, after all, if they were gonna turn into big girls like her! So she leaned forward and pushed her paw down into her nappy in search of more. Don’t worry, Wiggles, there’s lots more nums for you!

Sebastian

The lion stood at the window, staring through the one-way glass out onto the sea of colourful cushions and pillows and plushies, out onto the small army of adult cubs sprawled all across the scene, in various states of dimmed awareness.
	“Very nice,” said the otter, walking up to stand beside him. “It looks like you’ve increased the ranks, too. How many new this month?”
	“Seven, I believe.” The lion paused, frowning. “No, eight. One came in this morning. There.” He pointed over to the pretty little vixen, busy humping her diaper against a plushie kangaroo.
	“General entertainment population, or adoption?”
	“Adoption for four of them. There are buyers lined up, all agreed and signed. The rest...well, we’ll see.”
	“All coming along nicely, then,” he said. “Anything worrying on the horizon?”
	“Nothing that I can see.” The lion turned to face the otter, a smile on his wide, masculine muzzle. “Have you given my proposal some thought?”
	The otter visibly flushed. “I...maybe.”
	“Sebastian,” said the lion, calm and serene, his voice rumbling. The modulator would turn his voice to gravel. Without it, it was like smooth pebbles rolling in the surf. “It’s silly to keep delaying the inevitable like this.”
	“Does it have to be the kiss, though?” he said. “Why not...why not one of the pills? In case I change my mind?”
	“But you won’t change your mind, Sebastian. You won’t have a mind to change.”
	Sebastian became acutely aware that the lion was a step closer. Though tempted to, he didn’t take a step away.
	“But what if...what if I don’t like it?”
	“Of course you’ll like it, Sebastian,” said the lion, smiling, and drawing another step closer. “You’ll be happy and carefree, forever and ever. Looked after, pampered and free. You’ll be my little boy.”
	Sebastian could only whimper. The lion smiled.
	“Or,” said the lion, “my little girl.”
	Sebastian let go of a held breath with a small whine. The lion’s smile grew wider, satisfied.
	“That would…”
	“Be wonderful,” said the lion. “I know.” He reached the otter, paw sliding around his waist, brushing deliberately against the frills of the diaper peeking out from the top of the otter’s slacks. “And all it takes is a kiss.”
	“Is…” Sebastian swallowed. He braced his paws against the lion’s chest. Truthfully, he folded his arms up, small and trapped, encomposed by the lion’s strong and enclosing hug. “Is it safe? Direct from the source, I mean?”
	“It’s been tested,” said the lion. “As safe as all the pills and potions and creams derived from it. You will, though, be the first to taste it directly. The pure effect of my saliva.” The lion’s nose came within an inch of Sebastian’s. One inch away from oblivion, from mindless, thoughtless, happy nothing. “Taking you completely, turning you into my little girl. Mine, and mine alone, forever.”
	Sebastian could only pant. “N-no others? No others like me?”
	“Just you,” said the lion. “The rest get only the inferior byproducts, the side-effects and lesser devolution. You get it pure and raw, and you alone. I promise you.” Half an inch now, breath mingling, an electric tingle growing in the space between their lips. Sebastian felt him drawn, pulled in as if by a tractor beam, unable to resist the end of everything, the end of rational thought, the end of complexity and adulthood, and the beginning of simple nothingness. Cubbification, mental destruction, derpification, retardation...so many names for it, in so many varieties of official parlance and vulgarity. Even this...even this, he would forget, becoming just a mindless, happy little baby for the lion.
	The lion inhaled to speak, another smooth, rumbling appeal to Sebastian’s craving. But it wasn’t necessary. The last tiny slither of space closed to nothing with the twitch of the otter’s neck. He pressed his lips against the lion in a single, sweet kiss…
	...and felt everything wash away in a heartbeat.
	The lion kept his arms firmly around the otter’s body as it sagged limp in his arms. Sebastian’s head fell back, eyes empty and staring, mouth wide and open, twitched up into a faint smile. His tongue lolled to the side, and saliva beaded at the tip, starting to drip already. In the vacant stupor of the otter’s newly wiped mind, a single swelling emotion filled him; pure, stupid glee. With slurred voice, barely capable of operating itself for mere noise, let alone words, the otter started to giggle.
	“There’s a good girl,” said the lion, reaching his arm down to scoop under Sebastian’s legs. He hefted the otter up like he was nothing, cradling him against his chest. The otter’s arms barely moved. His legs hung limp. What little control he had over his body was faint and weak and uncontrolled. The lion felt and heard and smelled the gentle hiss and rich, potent smell of the otter’s bladder giving up and emptying itself into the waiting diaper. The plastic crinkled under the lion’s arm, as the final mark of the otter’s loss of self-control settled into the seat of the diaper; the total voiding of his bowels, soaking the soft, high-quality diaper padding with his runny, almost liquid mess. The lion smiled, and kissed his new baby girl on the forehead.
	“Let’s go and get you settled into your nursery,” he said. “Would you like that, hmm?” He walked towards the door, and the light in the room dimmed automatically as he left, leaving the wide rectangle of the window the only brightness left in the room, a world of happy colour and play and brainless joy. “Yes, you’ll like that. Yes you will, oh yes you will!”