Processing - 1 (Diaper)

They put me down in a crib. Still feeling a bit dizzy, I look around.
The crib has wooden bars, and a top – which clicks shut as I look up. The orderlies walk out without looking back.
The mattress is thick, soft and white, with a plasticised feel to the top layer. The blanket is yellow, there's a number of toys lying around for some reason, and a mobile suspended over the top of the thick pillow.
I rub my arm, where the jab went in. Strange way to run a detox clinic...
And the diaper is frankly a bit much. It wouldn't be so bad if they'd let me keep shorts, but it was tshirt or nothing.
I'm feeling a little drowsy, now. It has been a long day...


….................................




Subject S-4 processed. Usual intake treatment.
He's sleeping nicely. No protest over the diaper.



…...................................


Looks like I didn't use my diaper overnight, which is a small mercy. I don't feel like I need to go this morning, either, which is strange.
Breakfast is cereal – all kid stuff.

First lesson today.
I'm not the only one in the room, of course. About a dozen others, dressed pretty much the same. Each desk has a bottle on it, full of something white – it looks like milk, which is also strange.
The lecturer puts on a video. It's fairly boring at first, all about self control and paying attention.
It's really boring, actually... I yawn, and blink a couple of times. Stealing a look around, I'm not the only one yawning, either.
With a wince, I realize I missed something on the video. That makes me feel bad, because I'm supposed to be paying attention, and here I am making a mistake on the first day.
The bottle looks tempting.
I rub my throat, realizing that I'm really thirsty all of a sudden. It's important to stay hydrated to pay attention, and having a drink of milk is okay. It's okay to have a drink of milk.
The milk tastes nice. There's a hint of cinnamon in it. It's kind of hard to drink it quickly because of the bottle top, but it's nice. Warm milk is a good drink.
Someone else next to me has a drink of milk as I put mine down.
I pay attention to the screen.
I need to go to the toilet. Automatically, as if I'm a child again, I raise my hand.
“Don't interrupt,” the lecturer says, looking at me, and I put my hand down again with a blush. “The whole reason you are here is to learn to pay attention.”
I pay attention to the screen.
…
You are wearing a diaper. You are a good boy. Good boys don't interrupt class. Good boys want to pay attention in class. Good boys think of ways not to interrupt class.
Good boys stay hydrated so they can pay attention in class.
…
I take another drink of milk. It helps me concentrate.
Someone next to me sighs. I'm not sure why; I can't look away, because that wouldn't be paying attention. I have to pay attention.
My bladder is starting to twinge, which makes it harder for me to concentrate.
…
A full bladder is distracting.
Good boys are smart boys. Good boys want to pay attention in class.
Good boys can think of ways to use what they have to pay attention in class.
You are wearing a diaper.
…
Maybe if I... just used my diaper? Then I wouldn't be distracted, and I could pay attention to this fascinating lecture about self control and how to learn things.
The idea seems strange, but not completely ridiculous. Experimentally, I try to relax a bit.
…
Relax. Relax your mind. Relax your body. Good boys relax and wet. Wet.
…
I'm a good boy. I'm paying attention in class. I feel warm, and comfortable.


I shake my head. That lecture was so boring, I think I fell asleep.
Moving draws my attention to my diaper, which is soaked. I must have wet it while asleep.




…..........................



They didn't let us change ourselves. Instead, an orderly removed my wet diaper, wiped me down, put me in a new one (which seemed a little thicker) and put me in a single item of clothing, with long sleeves and legs. This was apparently the replacement for the T-shirt.
It held my diaper up against my rump a little, which actually felt quite nice.
Then it was one of the group therapy sessions. There were four of us, all dressed in the new garments (we were told they were one-piece comfort clothing) and a counsellor.
The counsellor spent about ten minutes discussing things with each of us, then said he was going to put on some nice soothing music.
He wasn't wrong; the music really was very calming. Within a few minutes, I felt myself feeling sleepy again...



…........................


Subjects S1-4 appear to be becoming reconciled to their new circumstances. Recommend pairing up S2 and 3, and S1 and 4 to be singletons.
Transfer to simulated home environment should be considered.


….......................


I woke up in the crib again. My diaper was wet, and I had no memory of anything past the therapy session.
I was in the one-piece comfort clothing, and felt all warm and sleepy. There was a bottle lying next to me, which I took and drank some of. That made me feel sleepier.
An orderly came by, unlocked the crib top, lifted me out, and took me to a changing table. There I was efficiently changed into diapers which seemed slightly thicker again than last time.
As my old one-piece was a little damp, that was changed as well. The new version was a bit thicker, and didn't leave the hands or feet free – I was told this was because it was going to get cold tonight, and so I had to wrap up warm.
That made sense.
Before long, I was put in my crib again, and my mobile started. It produced a lilting tune, and I fell asleep still sucking on my bottle.


…....................................................


Class continued for the next couple of days. Each day, they provided a larger bottle to all of us, both in class and in the crib. Each day, the lecture was so boring that I couldn't help but fall asleep – and each day, I woke up soaked.
On the fourth day (or was it fifth? I kept falling asleep at odd times, and this place didn't have clocks), we were all taken to new rooms. I was the only one taken to this particular room, which had a large crib, beanbags, soft toys of all sizes, and was generally a well-furnished... kid's room.
Oh well. Not too much of a problem.
I was informed that I had made good progress. Whatever that meant.
That night, I was diapered with two layers of thick diapers, and then put in the thicker onesie. Apparently the cold weather was sticking around. It had certainly felt cold the last few nights.
Once I was in bed, the person who had told me that I'd made good progress came in again, this time with a new mobile. “To help me get to sleep”, she said, which was nice of her.
The bottle that night was the largest yet, and I was only a little way into it when she came in, pressed the power button on the mobile, and left, closing the door behind her.
The mobile made a kind of thrumming sound. It made me feel very relaxed, and I barely finished the bottle before falling asleep.



…........................



I'm in a pushchair. Strapped in, wearing a diaper and a onesie. My hands are strapped separately, and because of the onesie they're in mittens. Trying to move my feet reveals they are also strapped in.
An indistinct figure is pushing it around.
The motion makes me feel lethargic. This whole thing feels very right.
“Are you wet?” asks the voice of the figure.
“Nah,” I reply, and shake my head.
“Silly,” the voice replies. “Babies wet. Go ahead and wet.”
Abruptly, my bladder feels absolutely bursting. I wet without a moment's hesitation.
“Good baby!” the voice tells me. “Remember, babies always wet when they feel like it, and sometimes even when they don't!”

…..........................

My eyes flutter open in my crib. I wonder what happened for a moment, realizing I feel soaked again, but the mobile calms my thoughts and I slip right back to sleep.






Today, we're doing a new kind of therapy. So, after a diaper change and a bottle, I troop into the room with about a dozen others.
This therapy is about “connecting with your inner animal”. The therapist looks over us, picks what animal we are (pretty much at random, as far as I can tell) and distributes large, thickly padded costumes.
My newly applied diaper is taken off all over again, and two thicker ones applied. The first one didn't have a plasticised outer coating, for some reason. There's also a coat of powder which makes me sneeze, all over me. I can see others getting the same treatment elsewhere in the room.
My costume sleeper turns out to be a fox. It's big, poofy, red, thick around the waist, and has four tails – which is neat, I guess.
It's also full-body – and, I discover as the nurse helps me put it on, quite close-fitting. It slides on easily enough with the powder, though. My feet and hands are covered in thick paw-shaped poofy booties and mittens, and it wraps around the back of my head – with a front bit as well, held on by a piece of string, that looks like a long muzzle.
A zzzzzzip up the back is the zipper going on, and the nurse fiddles around with the area of the paws for a few seconds each – small bands click a notch tighter around both wrists and both ankles. A hissssss of air follows, and I see the tails semi-inflate out of the corner of my eye. Not full enough to stand straight up, but full enough to make them behave less like rigid bits of cloth.
Lastly, a drawstring for the hood is pulled tight and tied off.
I bet a little kid would love to have this kind of costume.
As I slip off the table, a little clumsily, the nurse steadies me. She gives me a pat on the rear, and opens the base of the cupboard – revealing really thick pink diapers.
They look too big for me, as well. Actually, they look too big for almost anyone.
I shrug – it's not as if I've understood everything – and go to sit down with the others in front of the therapist. The people either side of me are dressed as a skunk and a dragon, and I feel a bit jealous of the dragon one.
He begins giving a long lecture about the symbology of animals and how they represent aspects of our own natures. Normally, it's stuff I might find interesting, but between shifting slightly to make sure that I'm fully comfortable in my fox costume and how thick the hood is of what I'm wearing, I can't really hear enough to pay attention.
My mind wanders a bit, to be honest. I know I should be paying attention, but I just can't.
Maybe if I was a real fox, with real fox ears, I'd be able to hear better.
The thought makes me grin, shifting the little fox-muzzle I'm wearing, and I reach up to tweak my ears. It actually seems to help, and I can hear the lecturer a little clearer. There's a bit of a buzzing noise, probably the air conditioning, but I can still hear him over that.
…....
Good boy.
…....
The lecturer goes onto a new topic, now. It's about how sometimes we don't just feel like animals, we want to act like animals.
It sounds kind of cute, actually, as my first thought is about someone dressed as a cat-girl doing a little paw-up fake snarl. The idea's neat, so I raise my own paw and do a little snarl.
The skunk next to me giggles, and raises his own paw to do a snarl.
“I'm a tiger!” says someone about halfway around the semicircle. “Rawr!”
“Very good,” the therapist informs them. “This is the right sort of behaviour.”
….....
You're a cute little fox, aren't you? You're such a good little fox. What are you? What sound do you make?
….....
“I'm a fox!” I announce. “Uh... grrr?”
“Mrow!” someone dressed as a cat replies, putting his front paws on the ground and tossing his head.
That started everyone off. It's so much fun to walk around on all fours like the animals we were dressed as, acting like them!
…........
Good fox. You love playing like this.
…...
After a while, I start to feel a twinge in my bladder. The morning bottle hasn't come out yet, and it throws me off my concentration as I mock-growl at a tiger who is mock-snarling back. I frown, and cock my head, listening to the buzz of the air conditioning.
…....
Foxes like you don't worry about things like that.
….....
My frown slowly clears up. Why am I worrying about a thing like that? I'm a big fox! Big foxes don't have to worry about things like... er... about things like that.
Foxes hide in the undergrowth and pounce on people! There isn't any undergrowth, so I hide in a pile of plushes. There's a lot of plushies and blankets all over the room now, which is funny because I thought they weren't there before. I burrow into them, really dig down in there so I'm hidden with only my fox nose poking out. The plushes push down on my fox ears, and the air conditioning hum gets a little louder.
While I hide, my bladder begins to ache.
…........
You know what to do, little fox. Just go.
…........
There's a slight hiss, and I sigh as warmth spreads. It feels right.
That done, I move slightly in the pile of plushies. My butt wiggles a bit, my four tails wiggling with it, and I pounce out in an avalanche of soft toys onto the skunk. He laughs, and I laugh, and we go rolling over one another in a confusing mix of padding and plushiness and softness.
…......
Time to go change!
…......

The nurse is wearing a costume as well. She's a cat girl with little ears on a headband and an apron, and a tail hanging down at the back.
She helps me crawl up onto the table, then unsnaps the back of my costume.
…...
Be a good fox. Be a good little baby fox.
…........
I smile upwards as I lie on the changing table, with my legs spread apart to let the nurse change my diaper. One off, two off. Wipe. Powder. One on, two on.
The clicks of the snaps going back on, and I make to get up.
“Not yet, sweetie. Lift your legs, now.”
I do so, puzzled, and then let them down again.
Not quite as far down.
Confused, I look down. I see one of the really big pink diapers go on the outside of my costume.
When she helps me down, I can barely walk. I have to go down on all fours, and the bulk of the diapers spreads my back legs, making me walk clumsily even without the big galumphy paws.
…......
You're a happy diapered baby fox! You're doing really well at being a fox kit. Don't you feel just like a happy poofy snuggly fox?
…....
I feel so happy and poofy and snuggly as a diapered baby fox.


One by one, we get changed and have diapers put on on the outside, and get given bottles. Over the course of the day, I wet three more times – each time, getting a change of the big pink diaper, and getting given another bottle – and by the middle of the afternoon, not only do I feel really dizzy and kittish but I also feel like I slosh when I crawl.
“Okay,” the therapist says eventually. “It's time for a nap, little animals!”
The nurses lay out squares of soft mattress on the floor of the room, distribute bottles and blankies, and coax us to lie down and put our costume heads on pillows.
A lullaby starts playing. It's all about a happy little baby fox who doesn't worry about things like his bladder.
It's a bit strange that they play a fox one for all of us, I think, snuggling deeper into the pillow and sucking on my bottle.
I fall asleep before finishing it, still sucking.