Chapter 8 - Sup-Sup-Suppertime
Alisa stared up at the bars of the crib, trying to figure out how babies managed to climb out of these things. The thing was much higher than the crib at the nursery had been, but it also, she assumed, didn't have numerous, giant, disembodied hands guarding it to keep the occupant inside. Even so, it looked awfully tall and intimidating, and whenever she looked down from that, and saw the huge Pamper around her waist, it made her feel even smaller, no matter how many times she reminded herself this stuff was all meant for a giant baby, not a regular sized one. But she couldn't stop herself from glancing up and down, feeling like she was shrinking more and more each time. Maybe if she did it long enough, she'd get small enough to squeeze through the bars and escape.
She was still in there, however, when Clara and her mommy returned. Clara walked over to the crib, giggling as she looked in at her little toy, who blushed in response. Meanwhile, Mommy rummaged through drawers for a minute or two before finding what she needed and bringing them over. "We don't want her touching anything and accidently burning herself, do we?"
"Nope!" Clara agreed.
Alisa looked up in confusion, just in time to see Mommy reaching down, holding a large, stiff looking pink mitten. Her heart began beating faster, instantly recognizing it from the stories. "No..." she pouted, trying to scurry away, but there was only so many places she could go in the crib, and Mommy easily caught her, grabbing her squirming hand. Alisa tried to ball her hand up into a fist, hoping that would help, but Mommy easily pried her fingers apart, then shoved the glove on.
"It's a good thing we still had these," Mommy chatted as she turned to get the other one, putting it on Alisa's free hand, rendering both hands useless as her fingers her splayed apart and held firmly in place. "Clara's cousin had a bad habit of trying to take her diaper off for a while. I'm sure we don't have to worry about that with you, though, since you clearly need them so badly, don't you?" Before Alisa could give her meek, mumbled, "Yes, ma'am," Mommy turned her attention to her daughter instead. "Doesn't she?"
"Yeah!" Clara giggled. "I bet she's going pee-pee right now!"
"I bet she is," Mommy gave Alisa a significant look. The girl groaned - part of her wondered if she really had to, if they'd know the difference if they checked her, since she was already wet - but she did have to go again, and she told herself she just knew there wasn't any point in waiting as she let go. As she felt herself making her diaper even wetter, feeling more of the padding soften and grow squishy around her, she did her very best to forget that she was doing this just because a four year old had suggested it to her, which was difficult when the girl's mother was asking, "But you aren't wet, are you? Dolly's only been in her diaper a little longer than you've been in your Pull-Up, and you haven't wet yourself at all, have you?"
"Nope!" Clara declared proudly. "Dolly's just a little baby!"
"Yes, she is," Mommy agreed, reaching down to pick the embarrassed, wet girl up. "Now, let's get to work." She carried Alisa back into the bathroom, which was about the last place Alisa had expected to go. "Do you see this?" Mommy asked, teasing as she held Alisa in front of the toilet. "This is a potty! Maybe one day you'll be able to use one! I think it will be awhile, though... Do you want to practice sitting on it?"
Not needing, or waiting for, an answer, Mommy plopped Alisa down on her damp diaper on the closed toilet lid. Alisa was less than pleased to note how far off the floor that left her legs, making her feel even more tiny. It was quite frustrating to know that she was so close to a real toilet... And yet hers was even closer, taped tightly around her waist, and already used more than once. And, with these gloves, inescapable.
As Alisa sat there, Mommy got a blow dryer out from under the sink, plugging it in and using it on her, drying her hair off before brushing it out with a large, heavy looking wooden hairbrush, and then starting to mess with something else that Alisa hadn't noticed sitting on the counter until then. Alisa looked over at it with a sigh. "No, please, I don't want..." she started to say, only for Mommy to turn to the bathtub, retrieve the bar of soap from there, and pop it back into Alisa's mouth.
"You need to learn, little Dolly, that 'no' is a naughty word, at least for you. Now, Clara wants to see you with curly hair, and that's what she's going to get." Alisa nodded her understanding, hoping that would earn her the chance to have her mouth emptied of the sudsy intruder, but Mommy just went back to work with the hot rollers, winding bits of Alisa's hair around them and pinning them in place, working quickly and efficiently. Alisa pouted and fidgeted, feeling the warmth next to her scalp as it spread, from near her neck on up until it felt like it was consuming her whole head, transforming her straight, sleek, brown hair into something very different.
Once she was completely cocooned, the soap was taken out and she was put back in her crib, left alone while Clara and Mommy went to get her "din-dins" ready for her. She wasn't looking forward to seeing what that was, not at all. She pawed uselessly at her hair, telling herself that, if her hands were free, she'd take the curlers out, although she doubted she'd really have the courage for that, considering the possible consequences. And if she was going to take something off and risk a spanking, or whatever else Mommy had in mind, she'd start with the diaper, which would have been even harder to do.
She sighed, poking at the bulky padding of her diaper before wrapping her arms around her stomach as it gave an ominous rumble. There was no doubt what that meant now, and, looking from the gloves to the crib bars, very little question of what that meant. It wasn't fair! She'd already messed her first Pull-Up that day, and now, before too long, she'd be pooping her Pamper as well. She'd been curious to try it, but now she was being forced to do it twice in one day. And this was probably only the beginning. Clara and her mommy seemed only too happy to keep her in diapers, day in and day out, and they weren't shy about making her use them.
That thought made her blood run cold as she thought about it. So far, they'd only made her pee her pants, but there was nothing stopping them from ordering her to mess. Anywhere, anytime, she could be minding her own business, and then, on their whim, she could be forced to squirm, and bear down, and fill her diaper for their amusement. The thought made her feel incredibly helpless, even after she shook her head and reminded herself that she wouldn't literally be forced to do it. She might be risking a spanking, but if it was somewhere she really didn't want to humiliate herself, she could say no. Couldn't she? The fact that it had taken her a moment or two to realize that was even an option was something else for her to worry about. People in these stories often seemed to give in almost scarily quick... But she wasn't really from those stories. Her mind was still her own, so surely she could hold on for longer than that.
After half an hour or so, Mommy returned, taking her back to the bathroom and removing the curlers, smiling as she surveyed her work. "I think this will work very nicely," she nodded. "To start, anyway. I have a few more ideas, too." Mommy didn't seem to think Alisa deserved to know what those ideas were, even if it was her hair they were talking about. It seemed like an afterthought when Mommy held her up to the mirror to see herself. "Aren't you precious?" she asked. "You look like a little Shirley Temple. But younger. If only your hair was just a little shorter... But we can fix that easily enough, can't we?"
Alisa pouted as she looked at her reflection. It seemed like, every time she did that, she looked more infantile in some way. Maybe she should stay away from reflective surfaces from then on. "Please," she sniffled, though she wasn't sure what she was asking for, exactly. To not make her change her hair to make her look younger? To let her out of this diaper? To let her go entirely? It wasn't until she felt another cramp that she finished the thought. "Please, just let me use the toilet. It's right there... Please, Clara isn't here now. She'll never know."
Mommy didn't even say no. She just laughed, setting Alisa down on the floor and taking her hand. "Oh, Dolly, you're so silly!" she chuckled, leading Alisa on her toddling way down the steps and to the dining room, where she was hardly surprised to see a high chair waiting. Once Mommy had deposited her inside and locked the tray in place, Clara rushed in with a faded pink bib, which she happily handed off to her mother to tie around Alisa's neck. "Can you go bring out her supper?" Mommy asked, and, of course, Clara was happy to oblige.
As soon as Alisa saw what Clara returned with, she immediately whined, "I'm not hungry."
"Babies have to eat, so they'll grow up big and strong," Mommy overruled her without skipping a beat, taking the large bowl, heaped high with steaming, pasty oatmeal, and put it on the tray of the high chair.
"Please, I don't like..." Alisa complained, a fatal mistake, as it gave Mommy the chance to scoop a healthy spoonful of the mush and shove it into the girl's mouth. She swallowed a little before trying to spit it out, dribbling some out down her chin and onto her bib before Mommy began to catch some with her spoon, pushing it back in.
"It doesn't matter if you like it," Mommy said, "it's good for you."
Alisa was surprised Mommy didn't forbid her from trying to defend herself from the relentless spoon and its bland contents - the only thing that gave it any taste was the soap residue still in her mouth, and that was hardly an improvement, and even that wore off soon enough - until she realized that by doing so, she was playing into this whole charade of her being a baby. Had she just been good and ate it, she would have been full, but clean, but by trying to fight back, she wound up with her face caked in the stuff, her bib filthy, and her tummy still feeling quite bloated. "I think you got more on you than in you," Mommy teased, poking at the girl's stomach. "I think you need seconds."
"No..." Alisa sighed, before she could stop herself.
Mommy gave her a smug look. "Oh, Clara, do you want to look through your cousin's baby food for something to give Dolly for her dessert?"
"Yeah!" Clara hopped up from her spot watching the show, scurrying into the kitchen with her mother. Mommy returned first with the bowl refilled, to Alisa's chagrin.
Alisa wasn't sure if this was better or worse than her feeding at the nursery. There, she'd had no choice but to swallow, no hope of keeping even a little of the stuff out of her. Here, though, she knew exactly how much there was waiting for her, and she had an audience. Not to mention an already full tummy that grew more uncomfortable with every spoonful, starting to cramp up in a way that was all too familiar. Despite how uncomfortable it was on her sore bottom, even through the thick padding of her diaper, she was glad for the hard wooden seat of the high chair, as it made it easier for her to keep herself from having an accident as she squirmed there, wearily forcing herself to keep eating and get this over with.
Mommy was just finishing up when Clara returned, clutching a jar full of something green. "I found some!" Clara announced, rushing up to her mother. "Look, pea! She'll like this, won't she?"
"Well? Won't you?" Mommy asked. Alisa slumped down in the high chair, stomach roiling, and nodded in defeat. "Why don't you feed her?" Mommy suggested. Clara was all too happy to do so, and Mommy got up from her seat, picking Clara up and placing her on her chair. "Just stand there, and take this spoon..." Mommy handed the spoon to Clara and took the jar, opening it. "Don't get too much, because you saw, she likes to spit up. There you go! Scoop it up, then put it to her lips..." Clara pushed the spoon towards Alisa, but stopped short of her mouth. Instead of telling Clara to move it a little closer, Mommy shot a meaningful look between Alisa and the spoon.
"But I..." Alisa bit her bottom lip, not wanting to bend forward, not now. She'd have to lift her backside off the seat for that, just a little, but that might be enough.
"Eat your dessert, little Dolly," Mommy ordered.
Alisa almost jumped up, stretching out to get a mouthful of the green mush, wrinkling her nose at the taste. She didn't mind peas normally - they weren't her favorite, though they were tolerable - but now they were disgusting. Whether that was from being so full already, or simply the fact that they were robbed of their shape and texture, mashed up beyond all recognition, she wasn't sure, but she almost would have preferred the prune stuff from the nursery.
Clara pulled the spoon back, dipping out a little more of the baby food onto it. "Is this enough?" she asked her mommy nervously.
"It's fine," Mommy nodded. "Just give it to her."
Alisa thought she must be going crazy. She was inches from having a major accident, and, inadvertently, this little girl was making it more and more likely that it would happen right here, especially as she held the spoon just a little further from Alisa's mouth as she had last time. Each time, it seemed like there was a little less, meaning it would take longer to make it through the jar, and not as close, meaning her quivering bum was away from the protection of the seat a bit longer.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore, planting her Pampered butt and whimpering, "Mommy, please, can I use the potty?"
Mommy hardly skipped a beat. "That's up to Clara. You're her Dolly. Ask her."
Alisa groaned as another cramp hit her. She could feel the mass inside trying to escape, being thwarted, but just barely. "Clara, please, I hafta go potty!" she wailed.
Clara looked at her for a moment, considering. "You hafta finish your supper before you can get up," she said, in a tone that sounded like it was something she'd heard many times before herself. Of course, that was probably when she was wanting to go play, or watch TV. Alisa very much doubted Mommy would make Clara wait if she needed to go to the bathroom. "Open up, Dolly!"