Thursday, May 9, 2013

Alisa's Adventures in the Diaper Dimension - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - The House of Hands

Alisa struggling in vain against the hand enveloping her body as she was pulled through the building. Doorways whizzed past her, each holding an adult baby, most in the midst of a diaper change by an array of the mechanical hands, but a few already in a crib for a nap, bottle held in their mouth by yet another hand. "Let me go!" she growled, pulling on the topmost finger. "I don't belong here!" That seemed to be her refrain that day - after all, she didn't belong in this world at all, much less any of these specific places within it. The fingers were wrapped in what felt like quite a bit of soft material, but beneath that, she could feel the hard steel frame that gave the hand its strength, far more than she could hope to muster.

The hand's path turned, pulling her at last into what she assumed was her own room, setting her down on the soft, carpeted floor. Immediately, she tried to run back through the open door, but the hand was faster than her, moving back and spreading its fingers to block her exit. Frustrated, though hardly surprised, she turned to look at where she'd been taken. It looked a lot like the other rooms she'd been taken past, but it was easier to see now that she was standing still, and on her own two feet. There were plenty of soft, childish toys scattered around on the floor, and in the crib, which looked large enough for her, though not so large she wouldn't have been able to climb out... At least, if she wasn't constantly being watched by the hands. There was a changing table, well stocked with a variety of diapers, all of which looked an awful lot like baby diapers, only big enough for her, and much thicker. There was also a high chair, and a big, bright window, although the scenery was very different than what she'd seen when she was outside, so she had a feeling it wasn't real, even before she noticed the smiley face in the center of the sun, and the cartoon birds floating by.

So she wasn't going to be getting out the same way she had at the school. And it didn't look like the hand was going to let her out the door, either. It relaxed after a moment, but the moment she took the first ste in another mad dash for the doorway, it was back in place, and she jumped and yelped as she felt something smack her tender, red bottom, turning in time to see another metallic tentacle that had grown from the wall, this one ending in a paddle. "You know it's time for..." a mechanical voice, like the one from outside, informed her, before a red light slid down her body. There was a pause, one that Alisa was sure was longer than it should have been even before the voice said, "Error. Subject does not match previous scans."

Previous? Alisa hadn't been there before... Had she? She didn't like to think that this was where her other self had ended up after getting fired from her job, however that had happened. After a moment, she remembered the pacifier emblem, and how it had identified her as "belonging" here. It must have an ID chip of some kind inside, too, and since she'd stolen it off a clothesline, it didn't belong to her, which was likely what was causing the mismatch in the nursery's database. "I told you, I don't belong here!" she said, though she had no idea if the place could listen, much less if it was. How advanced was this place? Was there somebody running it? If she could get their attention somehow, maybe that would help her get out, but from what she could remember, in the stories these places all sort of ran themselves.

"Starting new profile," the voice announced.

"No, don't do that!" Alisa shook her head. "Just let me go!"

Instead of listening, a pair of silver tendrils dropped from the ceiling, coiling around her arms and lifting her up for a moment before setting her back down - weighing her probably, she realized after a moment. The red light returned, a little more intense this time, moving more slowly up her body before the twin tentacles slid down and grabbed the hem of her dress. With a squeal, she tried to hold it down, only for two more arms to pop out and grab her hands, pulling them up over her head uselessly while the first two lifted the dress up over her head. A small part of the ceiling slid open, then closed again as the dress was tucked away in it, perhaps returning to its rightful owner, leaving Alisa once again in only her panties. It was only then that she noticed they looked a little wetter than they had before. She must have had another little accident in the midst of her capture, and, again, hadn't even noticed.

She wasn't nearly naked for long, however - a moment later, another pair of tendrils popped up from the floor, heading straight for her underwear. Her hands were still being held in place, so she tried pressing her thighs together, not liking where this seemed to be going, but, to her dismay, this room still wasn't out of arms, and two more coiled themselves around her legs, pulling her into a helpless spread eagle position as her wet panties were lowered. The nursery seemed to know they were wet, or just thought she didn't need them anyway, because instead of tucking them away like it had the dress, yet another tentacle arose from the floor, this one topped with something that shot a smaller, more intense beam of red light that sliced through the panties, letting them fall to the floor, where they were picked up by another stray arm and dropped into the diaper pail beside the changing table.

"Uh-oh," she sighed, unhappy with that development. Losing your panties in these stories was never good, and mostly permanent. It definitely didn't look like there were any in this place, so she could only hope that if - no, when - she got out, she could find somewhere else to get some. The red scanning light returned, once again taking its time moving over her prone, naked body. When it blinked back off, she wasn't sure exactly what to expect, but she was more than a little nervous to see the tentacle with the other red light start to move again, and not back into the floor. "What are you doing?" she asked it nervously, though nothing else she'd said had seemed to get a response.

That didn't either, at least not out loud. A moment later, however, she found out what it was planning, as the cutting light turned back on, this time focused on her crotch. The bonds around her wrists and ankles tightened, making sure she didn't move and get herself hurt, but she was too scared to have even considered it anyway. As she watched, the light slowly moved over the area, neatly and completely burning away all of her hair there, leaving behind only bare, pale skin. It was another ritual that the people in these stories had to go through, but she had to admit that, in person, it was shocking just how effective it was, how much younger it made her feel.

Just when she thought she was done with this humiliating examination, one final tentacle appeared. It had a tiny hand, and in that hand, it was clutching a large, glass thermometer, its tip greasy with vaseline, as if there was any doubt as to where it would be going. At first she thought the nursery was just being cruel, taunting her, by making her see it, but then she realized that not having any warning would have been quite surprising. After a moment, the hand swooped down and between her legs to behind her. She winced and bit her bottom lip in anticipation, yet it was still bigger and colder than she'd expected as it was slid into her backside.

With everything else in here so high tech, surely there had to be a better way to get her temperature, she thought bitterly while she squirmed, feeling the icy intruder between her cheeks, every movement just making her mechanical captors hold her more tightly. It was too uncomfortable and embarrassing to get herself to stop and just stand still, however, so she just had to endure it until, at last she felt the thermometer being tugged free. After a moment of just standing there, wondering what was next, she was lifted up and carried across the room, deposited onto the changing table.

The tentacles from the room retreated back into the floor and ceiling, but before she could try to escape, new restraints popped up from the table itself, wrapping around her arms and legs, making sure she stayed just as helpless to whatever was going to happen next - and, though she couldn't see the stacks of diaper beneath her from this position, she still had a very good idea of what was coming.

"Please, don't make me wear a diaper," she begged, still unsure if there was any point to trying to reason with the machine, but having to try anyway. "I don't need one!"

To her surprise, the voice from earlier responded. "You cannot wear your big girl panties," it informed her, "You had an accident. Little girls who have accidents need protection."

"No, I dooon't!" she whined, sniffling. Once she was in diapers she knew things would escalate quickly, and make it far more difficult for her to find her way out of this world. If she could just reason with the machine, maybe she could get it to see that, and then...

A hand dropped down from above her, bearing a large pacifier that it popped into her mouth, while a pair of smaller hands from the table reached up and fastened a strap to it around her head, keeping it in place, rendering her silent, and completely helpless. Another hand popped up on the table, this one between her legs, and began to massage her now smooth crotch. As it moved, she could feel something cool and slick being pumped through it onto her skin, probably baby oil, or lotion, or both - it was hard to tell for sure. Once it was finished, another tentacle arose, without an attachment on the end, rising like a snake and moving toward her privates before blowing out a stream of baby powder, after which the hand went back to massaging. There wasn't anything sexual about the movement, and not just because Alisa was terrified about what was going to come next - it seemed designed for just that.

Without warning, Alisa was flipped over onto her stomach, and the process began all over again on her sore bottom. She had to admit, after the spanking, it didn't feel too bad, although that didn't stop her from trying to thrash her way free, and least until, without warning, she felt a hand thwap her on her butt. It wasn't quite as hard as the headmistress, but it didn't have to be. "Good little girls stay still on the changing table," she was told. In the interest of not getting her backside bruised any further, she did her best to stop squirming.

Finally, once it seemed like every inch of her nether regions was coated in powder and lotion, she was flipped over once more, and an arm reached under the table and returned with a Pull-Up. She breathed a sigh of relief through her pacifier, glad that at least she wasn't going straight back to diapers. These looked a little different from the ones she'd seen Bailey put into, and after a moment, she noticed the wetness indicators were stars. They must be the nighttime ones, she realized. She supposed that made sense, seeing as it had appeared to be naptime in this place.

Her legs were pulled together, and the Pull-Up was tugged up them and snapped into place at her groin. She had thought Bailey's Pull-Ups looked a little thicker than normal, but now she knew for sure that they were. While she'd never tried nighttime Pull-Ups in the real world, she knew they weren't that much bigger than regular ones, which she had squeezed into a time or two when she was a little younger. These were nearly as thick as the diapers she usually wore. She could only imagine what the actual diapers were like - a thought that both excited and scared her.

She was sat up, and the arms from above returned to grasp her hands and raise them into the air, just in time for a nightshirt to be brought down over them. It was pink, with a picture of a sleeping kitten on it, and it looked long enough to go maybe halfway down her Pull-Up if she were allowed to stand, which, of course, she wasn't. When she was lifted by the tentacles again, she fully expected to be taken to the crib, but, instead, she was plopped down in the high chair, one arm removing and then replacing the tray while she was put into place. Much as she hated to admit it, the Pull-Up really was nice for providing a cushion for her still-throbbing backside, but that didn't stop her from wanting to get out of it, and here.

The pacifier was removed, allowing her to blurt out, "I'm not hungry!" desperately.

"Our records show no feeding history," the room's voice said simply. The chair's tray grew a hand, while a tube dropped down from above, squeezing out something thick and gray and thoroughly unappetizing into the spoon the tray's hand was holding. Alisa clamped her mouth shut, but that didn't stop the hand, which pushed against her lips once, twice, three times, smearing them with the gooey contents of the spoon. "Open up," it ordered, in as sing-songy a tone as the mechanical voice could produce.

Alisa shook her head. After a moment, the spoon moved away, the whole arm retreating into the table. She thought that, for once, she'd won, especially when the pacifier was brought back out instead. Except that, as it was brought up to her lips, she saw that it wasn't the same - this one had a hole bored through the center. She kept her mouth shut as the pacifier was pressed to the front of her face, but unlike with the spoon, the hand didn't give up, and, eventually, it won, with her accidently opening her mouth just enough for it to sneak the pacifier inside. She wrinkled her nose as she tasted some of the goo - oatmeal, she realized - that had gotten onto the pacifier from her lips, and groaned as it was strapped into place, and the food tube approached.

The tube locked into place and, after a few agonizing seconds, she felt her mouth filling with the thick, goopy oatmeal. She really regretted her defiance now, as she had no choice but to swallow, no way to tell the machine she'd had enough. She doubted it would have listened anyway, but at the very least, she could have spit some of it out, maybe. Now, she was forced to swallow every bit of it. She wasn't sure if it was the disgusting food, her now much smaller stomach and body in general, or what, but it didn't take long for her to feel quite full. Still, the flow didn't stop. She had to keep swallowing, feeling more and more like she was about to burst with every mouthful, wondering how much this place really thought she could eat.

Finally, the oatmeal ceased, but it was only a temporary reprieve, as a moment later her mouth was filled with an even more distasteful paste, one that it took her a minute to recognize as prune. Given the consistency, it was likely baby food, not that it mattered much. She had to admit, there had been a part of her that had been worried the oatmeal was laced with laxatives, as almost all oatmeal in the stories was, but now she had a feeling it wasn't. This was sure to take care of that just fine. The thought made her feel sick to her ever-more-full stomach.

That didn't last nearly as long as the oatmeal had, and when it was done, she was greeted by the more pleasant taste of mashed banana. That was the shortest of all, and, thankfully, once it was over, the feeding seemed to have ended, and the tube began feeding her a slow drip of apple juice instead while hands removed the tray and lifted her heavy, lethargic body and put it, finally, into the crib.

"Good girls get to give themselves their naptime bottle," the voice let her know, an incentive for her to behave next time. She doubted the room would have been happy when she refused to drink the bottle she'd been given, though so she might have ended up the same way, being force fed it. "Have a nice nap."

The lights dimmed, and the window's scene changed to a nighttime one, with a droopy eyed moon replacing the sun. In the darkness, Alisa could see the designs on her Pull-Up glowing. She groaned, staring up at the bars not so far above her head. This was almost crueller than sticking her in a huge crib, she thought. She had no doubt that as soon as she tried to climb out she'd be stopped, and possibly punished. Even if she wasn't, she was still attached to the room by the food tube, still delivering a flow of apple juice to her pacifier as she settled down into the crib. She hoped, and assumed, it would stop once she fell asleep. Would it stop before then? Somehow, she had a feeling the answer was no. It was probably a way of encouraging her to go to sleep.

To be honest, though, it wasn't needed. After her long day, and with her uncomfortably full tummy, it didn't take long for her to drift off to sleep, hoping she would wake up and find this was all a dream, even as the pain in her sore bottom reminded her she wouldn't.


  1. Yay! That was fun, I hope there's more mechanical nursery fun before the people from the school find her :) And then perhaps...a visit to the pediatrician? :)

  2. Wonder what happens when she wakes up in a wet pull up?? Princess, The thing I don't like about your stories is that it doesn't matter how long a chapter is, it's never long enough and I find myself always wanting much more. Love your story; keep it up.

  3. Oooh, is someone gonna poop their pullup in her sleep? Hmmm... no. Not yet. But I bet she'll wake up a bit wet and reaaaally needing a potty. Though if she gets one in time or not ;)