Published: November 4th 2022, 12:00:07 pm
Brigid's eyes slowly blinked open as she yawned and stretched... And, immediately, she knew something was wrong. She let out a tiny gasp, face starting to burn, as she wiggled her bottom, panic setting in as she felt something there, something cool and thick and mushy... Something that definitely shouldn't be there, that no adult should ever do, especially not in their sleep...
And then, to add insult to injury, she felt somebody poke at it. She buried her face in her pillow in shame, knowing it was Carissa, come to gloat over finally managing her victory. That was probably what had woken Brigid up, she realized, the sound of the babysitter coming into her room, even if she hadn't consciously registered it.
"Oh, my," Pat said. "What happened here, sweetie?"
Brigid groaned, still bracing herself for Carissa. Of course Pat was there to watch, too... She always was, whether she was visible or not. There was no getting away from her... "Nothing," Brigid whined, squirming as she felt her covers being pulled away, making her lie all the more obvious.
"That didn't feel like nothing to me," Pat told her.
It was a weird way to phrase it, since Carissa was the one who had actually touched her diaper, but Brigid was too mortified to think about it too much. Having a messy accident at all was so childish - no, so babyish - that she had to forcibly remind herself that she was, indeed, an adult as she writhed in bed, feeling the mass shifting and squelching around her. The fact that it had happened in her sleep, when she had no control? It was crushing... And to think that she'd been so embarrassed about being called a bedwetter just yesterday. This was so, so much worse...
She whimpered as she felt arms sliding under her, picking her up, and, still unable to face Carissa, or Pat, she kept clinging to her pillow, hiding behind it. "I-It's not my fault!" she insisted, as much to herself as it was to Pat. Carissa already knew the truth... She was the one who had given her whatever had made this happen.
"I don't even have any records of you getting out of bed last night to try to make it to the potty," Pat replied gently, as Brigid was laid down on something, a large, flat surface that crinkled slightly beneath her. "And this is a much bigger accident than what you had last night."
"I know!" Brigid snapped, kicking her feet in frustration, listening to them thump against whatever she was lying on. "It's not my fault! Carissa, tell her!"
"Don't be silly," Pat chuckled, Brigid's nose wrinkling as she felt a hand giving her dirty diaper a pat. "Here, why don't we give you something nicer to keep you company during your change?"
Brigid let out a whine as she felt her pillow being pulled away, clinging to it desperately, only to get another demonstration of how childish she was, how helpless in the face of her caretakers, as it started to slip out of her grip. She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to look at Carissa, who was no doubt gloating at her victory, until something else was tucked into her hands, something soft and fuzzy and, sure enough, comforting to nuzzle into as she heard the tapes on her diaper being undone, the cool morning air tickling her bare, messy skin, her accident exposed for everyone to see.
"Poor little thing," Pat cooed, Brigid shivering at the touch of the baby wipes, although she was grateful to be getting cleaned up. She had no idea how long she'd been in the diaper, but consciously, it had been no more than a few minutes, and that had already felt like far too long. "We're going to get you all fixed up, and into a clean diaper."
"No!" Brigid sniffed. "No diapers! Please, can't I have my Pull-Ups back?" She didn't even consider asking for her panties... They were, obviously, what she really wanted, but she knew there was no way Pat would say yes to those, or that Carissa would put her in them, not after this... Or after yesterday, to be fair. This newest accident was just the icing on the cake that sealed her crinkly fate.
"Brigid," Pat started softly, Brigid knowing right away that she'd been right, that she was going to say no.
"I told you, it's not my fault!" Brigid protested yet again, finally angry enough to pull the stuffed animal away, to face Carissa, even if she was in the midst of changing her. "Tell her...!"
But she was in for quite the surprise... Or, rather, a few of them. For one, now that it wasn't right in front of her eyes, she could see that the toy she'd been given was a big, fluffy duck, which was very cute, though definitely the least important revelation. She was also lying on top of what was undeniably a changing table, off to one side of her room. She couldn't pretend it wasn't coming in handy now, that she wasn't glad that she had somewhere else to be changed, rather than on her bed, with her diaper in its current state, however, the idea that she had a piece of furniture in her bedroom now purely for that reason, that Pat seemed to believe she needed it - and, glancing over at her potty training chart, this newest accident already marked on it, it wasn't difficult to see why - sent a wave of fresh humiliation through her body.
Even that wasn't the biggest shock, or the one that felt the most momentous. She had to blink a couple times as she took in the final one, clearing her eyes from the final lingering fuzziness of sleep, wondering if she was still dreaming, somehow, to see that it was, in fact, not Carissa who was changing her diaper... It was Pat, cheerfully wiping away the mess, sliding the diaper out from under Brigid's bottom and bundling it up before tossing it into the other new bit of furniture in Brigid's bedroom: a diaper pail.
"B-But... H-How...?" Brigid frowned, staring up at the woman in confusion. "Y-You can't..."
Was it a dream? She hadn't pinched herself, though the sensation of her messy diaper against her skin seemed like a suitable replacement for that, and she'd definitely felt that... She was confident she wouldn't forget that anytime soon.
"Carissa helped me make a few adjustments," Pat smiled down at her, plucking a fresh diaper from the shelves of the changing table and unfolding it. "And now, we no longer need her services. I hope you won't be too disappointed by that."
"N-No," Brigid shook her head, feeling, instead, grateful not to have to deal with her anymore... As she felt Pat lifting her by the ankles again, however, slipping the new diaper underneath it, she couldn't help but wonder if this was truly a step up. Pat was bigger than Carissa, stronger than her, and tied directly into the systems of the house... Carissa may have been more invested in turning Brigid into a little girl, yes; Pat was more capable of treating her like one. And, judging by the fact that she was going into a diaper, and not Pull-Ups, it seemed that Carissa's plan had worked, and Pat believed that was, indeed, the way Brigid deserved to be treated.
"I-I don't need a diaper!" Brigid protested, watching from behind her ducky as Pat sprinkled baby powder onto her crotch and began to massage it in. Her fingers didn't quite feel human, up close and personal like that... They were a bit too cold and stiff for that. They weren't too far off, though. "Pat, please! Carissa made me have that accident!"
Pat didn't stop, tugging the front of the diaper up between Brigid's legs, her thighs sliding apart automatically to make room. "Even if that were true," she said, in a tone that left no doubt what she thought about that, "you've had quite a few other accidents."
"Th-Those were all her fault, too..." Brigid said quietly, knowing how silly and childish that sounded, like a little girl desperate, grasping at straws to avoid getting in trouble for something she'd done, even if she knew that wasn't the case.
To her surprise, Pat replied, "All right, Brigid. I'll give you one more chance."
"R-Really?!" Brigid's eyes widened, staring up at Pat. "I-I can have my Pull-Ups?"
Her answer came in the sound of the diaper's tape being ripped open. "With as many stinky accidents as you've been having lately, I don't think we should risk that," Pat told her. "If you need to use the potty, though, I'll take you."
Brigid pouted, watching helplessly as she was taped into her diaper, her house's AI smiling proudly as it finished up, seeming happy with its work, happy to have finally gotten to do that itself. Brigid gulped, not liking that one bit... She'd been right, this was definitely worse than Carissa. If Pat decided she liked this, that she wanted to keep doing it... What was Brigid going to be able to do to stop her?!
"I-I'm not a baby..." Brigid insisted, as Pat lifted her off the changing table, setting her down on the floor. Brigid stared up at the artificial woman, wondering if she had made herself even taller in this form, or if it merely felt that way, as she stood in front of her in her PJ top and diaper, clutching a stuffed duck for dear life, making her protests sound especially ridiculous.
"Of course you aren't, dear," Pat told her, bending down, giving her a hug, and a pat on the diaper, smiling again at the sound it made. "That really is very satisfying, isn't it?"
"No!" Brigid shook her head.
"Such a grumpy girl," Pat teased, taking Brigid by the hand, as the changing table and diaper pail began to sink into the floor. Brigid watched them go, still impressed by the capabilities of the house, and glad they wouldn't be there all the time, although knowing they were always there, waiting, wasn't that much of an improvement. "We'd better get some breakfast into you and see if that makes you happier!"
"Am I going to get real breakfast?" Brigid asked, thinking back to the delicious food Pat had made for her, back before all this confusion had started, "Or is it just oatmeal again?"
"You're going to get exactly what you need to grow up big and strong," Pat said. Brigid suspected she knew what that meant, and she was right... There was, however, another surprise waiting for her when she got to the dining room, in the form of a high chair waiting by the table.
"What is that for, Pat?" Brigid demanded, stopping in place... Or trying to, anyway, which proved difficult when Pat hadn't, and kept pulling her forward.
"You're always so fussy and squirmy at mealtime," Pat explained, as she bent down to scoop Brigid up. "I think this will help."
She set Brigid down in the high chair's seat, pushing the tray back, locking it into place with nowhere near enough room for Brigid to slip out. She was trapped there, with her ducky sitting by her side, doing exactly as Pat had predicted by squirming and whining as Pat picked up a bowl of oatmeal from the table, and a spoon, dipping the former into the latter on her own.
"Pat!" Brigid squealed, kicking her feet. "I can feed myself!"
"I know you can," Pat told her gently, "but you always make such a mess, and I want to be sure you get enough. It'll be easier if I handle it."
Brigid sulked, shaking her head. "No, it...!" she began to complain, only to get cut off by the spoon full of oatmeal being slid into her mouth, forcing her to swallow it, nose wrinkled. "Pat!" she pouted when she was finished.
"I need to know you're getting enough food," Pat said stubbornly. "And this is the best way."
It wasn't fair! This should have been a triumph, getting rid of Carissa... Now, it felt like she was devolving into babyhood faster and faster, much more-so than she had been even with Carissa pushing her! Carissa had threatened to spoon-feed her, but she hadn't carried through on it, and had certainly never made her sit in a high chair...
Maybe she was mistaken... Maybe this was a dream after all. It felt so realistic... Who knew what had been in that drink Carissa had given her before bed, though? It might induce nightmares that seemed to be real... She closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on waking up, only to feel the spoon bumping against her lips again.
"Open up!" Pat cooed.
Brigid thrust her leg harder backwards, against the seat beneath her, wincing with an, "Ow!" that gave Pat the opportunity to sneak in another spoon of oatmeal as she felt the pain of the very real contact between her and the footrest.
It was real... Pat had a physical form now, and she was clearly having a blast, being able to take care of her little one by herself. Brigid wriggled, attempting to get away from the spoon, since the chair, and the tray, weren't budging; all she managed was to get some of her breakfast to dribble out, letting Pat catch it in the spoon and tease, "Maybe I'd better get you a bib, messy girl," as she continued to stuff Brigid full of the oatmeal, with those same purple chunks from the last couple days.
Brigid was beginning to think it would never stop, that Pat was going to keep shoveling it into her until she exploded, but, of course, she did eventually, proudly declaring, "That should be enough!" as she set the bowl down on the table and unlocked the high chair's tray, lifting the very full Brigid out of the seat. "Now, let's get you ready for school!"
"Sc-School?" Brigid frowned. "B-But I..."
"No, you're not going back to that place," Pat confirmed. "I know all of that nastiness yesterday wasn't your fault, and it was that awful Carissa's influence, but they still won't have you back. That's all right, though."
Brigid was led back up to her room, where Pat took her pajama top off, tossing it to the floor, which swallowed it up so it could be laundered and returned to her, opening up the closet to reveal a new uniform waiting there for her.
It was obviously based on the one from St. Lucie's, except, somehow, even worse. The shirt, which Pat helped her into first, doing up all of the buttons herself, was the same, but the jumper that went over it was pink, rather than baby blue. Just from looking at it on the hanger, Brigid suspected the skirt was shorter, and she got confirmation when Pat tugged it over her head, and it stopped short of covering the entirety of her diaper. It had a duck embroidered on the front as well, immediately making Brigid think of the stuffed animal she'd been given. That was, no doubt, not a coincidence. Even the shoes were different, the black Mary Janes replaced with shiny pink ones.
She'd been surprised at how much she yearned for her Pull-Ups, after being reduced to diapers; it was the same with the old uniform. It had felt so childish, so immature, before... Now, in comparison to this one, she was sure it was almost as good as one of her old suits at making her feel like a grown-up again.
"It's too short!" she complained, tugging at the skirt, seeing, in the mirror, that no matter what she did, there was no way for her to completely hide her diapers in it. And, considering that Pat had her exact measurements, there was no question that was intentional.
"I think it's just right," Pat told her. "It will make it easier to check your diaper."
"I don't need my diaper checked!" Brigid stomped her foot. "I'm not going to use it! You're giving me another chance, remember?! You're going to take me to the potty!" In her anger, and embarrassment, she didn't catch what she'd called the bathroom, didn't register at all how much of a child that made her seem like, on top of her outfit, and the tantrum she was throwing.
She should have been able to talk her way out of it, to use her skills as a lawyer... The only thing, in the moment, she could think to do was whine and stomp and pout, just like any other little girl.
"And if you prove you're ready for your Pull-Ups, we can change your uniform," Pat assured her. "For now, I think this is just right." She gave Brigid's diaper another pat, as the woman fumed. "I am giving you another chance, but all you've done with it so far is prove how fussy you can be."
Brigid blushed, knowing Pat was right. "S-Sorry," she said. "I-I can do, it, though... I-I'll prove I don't need my diapers..."
"We'll see," Pat smiled. "For now, we need to get you to class."
She took Brigid by the hand, taking her downstairs again, into the living room... But, if Brigid hadn't been used to the layout of her house, she never would have guessed that was where she was. Even with that knowledge, she did a double-take, peeking behind herself into the hallway to confirm that was where she was.
The sofa, the coffee table, the shelves... All of it was gone, replaced with one large desk at one side of the room, and two smaller ones in front of it. The walls now showed posters of ABCs, and days of the week, and numbers, along with a series of windows along one of them looking out onto an empty playground, while the one behind the big desk had what looked like a chalkboard on it. It was all fake, of course, simply images on the screens that made up the walls, but that didn't stop it from seeming real, like she'd been transported into some mixture of a daycare and a very early grade, well below even where she'd been at St. Lucie's.
"Go on," Pat urged. "Sit down. We need to get started. You can put your little friend in the other desk, so you don't get lonely."
Brigid blushed, realizing both that Pat meant the stuffed duck, and that she'd been clinging to the toy the whole time to help her deal with what was going on, with what her life had somehow become. "P-Pat," she gulped, looking around at the classroom again, feeling so very tiny in there, like she might actually belong in a place like this. "I-I don't... I-I'm not..."
Pat gently took the duck away from her, putting it into one of the desks herself, turning to Brigid with the clear implication that she was willing - and, no doubt, able - to do the same to her. Obediently, Brigid sat down on her own, cheeks warming further to see that the desk was just tall enough that her feet couldn't reach the floor in it, emphasizing her smallness further as she shifted in her seat, listening to her diaper crinkle beneath her.
"Good girl," Pat bent down, kissing her on the forehead, the touch of her lips not quite human against Brigid's skin. "Now... Shall we get started?"