Chapter 3 - Santa Baby
Phoebe knew right away something was wrong, even before her eyes fully opened. The large bulk between her legs wasn't too surprising, since the cheerleader had insisted on putting the nighttime diaper on her before putting her to bed far too early - not that Phoebe hadn't fallen asleep much faster than she liked to admit. She had planned on just faking it, as the girl also decided she was going to stay and watch her until she drifted off, but it hadn't quite worked out that way.
And, from the way things felt inside that thick padding, that wasn't the only thing that hadn't gone according to plan. She gasped, prodding at the diaper, hardly able to believe the cool, clammy sensation inside it, much less the thought that it had come from her. She squirmed in her bed, whimpering, her still-full bladder telling her that it could get much worse.
She had to get out of there; there was no question about that. Her whole body seemed to ache, between the cramps in her hands from all the writing she'd been forced to do, to the ache in her backside from the spanking she'd earned from wetting herself. The girl had been watching her like a hawk the whole time, all too happy to provide her with water to drink, letting her up only long enough to go to the kitchen where the girl could keep an eye on her while making her a lunch of peanut butter and jelly and a banana. Phoebe had begged to be allowed to go to the bathroom, but all she'd gotten was a smack on the hand with the spoon for pausing in her line-writing. She had known the very moment Phoebe had lost control and wet herself, no doubt, since her pleas halted only then, and quite abruptly, but she'd still made a show of checking her Pull-Ups and scolding her, telling her how disappointed she was in her.
She'd been sent to get washed up again, and made to come back to the living room, completely naked, for her spanking. After the degradation of peeing herself in front of the girl, twice, that hardly even registered, and Phoebe had mostly just been glad to be done with the lines, which took much longer to complete than she would have thought. Of course, once the spanking actually began, she thought differently, as the girl was even rougher than her mother, and had Phoebe bawling and thrashing helplessly in a matter of minutes. Then, because she'd been so naughty, Phoebe was taped into her nighttime diaper and put to bed without supper, while her doll toddled along beside the other two, watching with what could almost be termed curiousity, were it not a toy.
And now she'd wet herself yet again, in her sleep. There had to be something wrong with her; that was the only explanation. There was no way all this could be normal, or even real. Perhaps the doll had been coated in some sort of hallucinogen. Everything so far had felt real, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. So did dreams, until you wake up.
She rolled over, eager to get out of this diaper before she had any visitors, only to run into something at the side of her bed. Confused, she tapped it with her foot again, then looked over at it, stomach dropping as she saw a set of rails there, not unlike the ones on her doll's bed. "Those bitches," she growled, shaking her head and getting up onto her knees. That crazy mother and daughter had to have done this, though she couldn't quite fathom why. What was the point? Of course, nothing they did seemed to make sense, so she wasn't sure why she expected this to be any different.
Well, unlike her doll, she was fully capable of climbing over a set of rails, she told herself, carefully standing up on her bed, then reaching out to grab the top of the rail to help steady herself as she stepped over... Only to get knocked back onto her bed as a powerful shock raced through her body. She gasped, trying to catch her breath, blushing as she felt her bladder let go, flooding her already wet diaper. It had been quite wet before, but now it was soaked, and while it did feel warmer, it was also much squishier, the padding much lumpier and even less comfortable.
She laid there for a few minutes, too stunned to even try to work out another plan, though, as she regained her breath, her brain began working again, and she was able to remind herself that there had to be latches of some kind on the rails. They could be electrified, too, though... And the rails were just high enough she she knew she couldn't get over it without touching the top. Maybe she had been wrong, and she really was trapped in her bed after all.
Somewhat luckily, her door opened just a few minutes later, admitting the silhouette of the mother from next door, just enough light coming from the nightlight Phoebe hadn't even noticed plugged into her wall to illuminate her pearl necklace and bright white teeth. "Good morning!" she chirped, reaching between the bars and patting Phoebe's diaper with a still-gloved hand. "Dear me, someone had a very wet night, didn't she?" Before Phoebe could respond, or see exactly what she'd done, the woman had done something to the outside of the rail and lifted it off. "We'd better get you into a fresh one!"
"What? No!" Phoebe shook her head, growing more desperate as she saw the woman walk to her dresser and take out another diaper. "No, please, not another diaper! I have to get to work!"
"Don't be silly!" the woman chuckled, returning to the bed with the diapering supplies and starting her work. "I know you like to play office, and it's sweet that you want to be like your daddy and have a job, but you still have to wear your diapie! I heard about your little adventure with real panties yesterday, and that didn't end well, did it?"
Phoebe blushed while the woman untaped her diaper and set to work wiping her clean and dry. "B-But that was... It wasn't my fault! Can't I at least wear the Pull-Ups?"
"Sweetie, no," the woman's voice turned a little more stern. "I know you want to prove you're more mature than your sister, but neither of you is ready. Besides, you're only older than her by a couple minutes! You don't have to feel bad that you aren't taking the lead with your potty training!"
Phoebe's blood ran cold. "What? No, I'm older than that!" It had to be their plan, to disorient her, and they were doing a good job. Just a couple nights ago, they'd insisted she was the doll's mother - now she was its twin?! They were crazy, that was all there was to it, and they were toying with her.
"You're right," the woman chuckled, sliding the fresh diaper under Phoebe's red bottom, then bending over to kiss her forehead. "Four is more than just a 'couple', isn't it? I'm sorry." She was clearly being patronizing, which only made it more humiliating as she taped the diaper up and set Phoebe on her feet, patting her backside. "Let's see if your sister is ready yet!"
"Can't I put something on first?" Phoebe whined, crossing her arms over her exposed chest.
"No," the woman told her simply. "You'd only get your breakfast all over it, and then we'd have to change you again, wouldn't we? No need for all that!" She patted Phoebe's bum again, and when that didn't get the girl going, she grabbed her hand and began tugging her along to the kitchen. As they passed by her guest room, she could tell something was different, but it was hard to tell what, exactly, because the woman pulled her away too quickly. The rest of the apartment looked different as well, with far fewer boxes than she recalled scattered through her living room. It was hard to tell for sure, since, like the rest of the apartment, it was so dimly lit, but she wasn't about to try to look closer, as the only thing she saw for sure in there was a trio of small creatures of some sort crawling quickly out of sight when they passed by.
She gasped, glad that she had just had such a huge accident in her bed, or else she would surely have had one then. She still had no idea what they were, but they were definitely not rats - she was sure she'd seen at least six legs on one of them. For once, she was almost glad the woman was there, because after seeing that, she didn't particularly want to be alone anywhere near there.
Of course, once they got to the kitchen, she didn't really want to be there, either. The cheerleader was waiting for them with the doll, already in her high chair and partway through her feeding. Beside her, however, sat something much worse - a second, larger high chair. "No, don't!" she begged, even as the woman picked her up and set her in the chair, sliding the tray into place with a snap before setting a sippy cup and a bowl of oatmeal on it.
"Open wide!" was all the woman said in response, tying a bib around Phoebe's neck and then lifting the spoon, piled high with off-white mush, to the girl's protesting mouth. She was feeling rather hungry, after being sent to bed without supper the night before, but this wasn't what she wanted. The stuff was thick and mostly tasteless, other than the raisins that dotted it, and quite unappealing, even before she took into account the fact that, even though her stomach was hungry, she was feeling rather full a little further down the digestive tract after not having had the chance to go the past couple days. She squirmed helplessly in the high chair, trying to turn away from the incoming "airplanes", which just wound up spreading the paste across her face. The cheerleader laughed at her, but only for the first few times, and then she took the doll and left.
"Let me just feed mys..." she tried, which invited the woman to empty another spoon into her protesting mouth. That should have been enough to teach her to shut up, but of course she just had to try another, desperate, "I can fe...!" before she got the idea. The bowl seemed even deeper than it looked, and the oatmeal was particularly filling, so, despite missing her last meal, she was still full well before the woman was done feeding her, but her attempts to communicate that ended in the same, predictable way as her insistence that she could feed herself.
By the time she was finished, left to drain her sippy cup of apple juice while the woman took the bowl and spoon to the sink to wash it, the woman's daughter returned with the doll, which was now dressed in an outfit Phoebe had never seen before, though it seemed to fit her little plastic body perfectly. Had she somehow missed it at the bottom of the box? She was pretty sure she'd emptied it out, though, frankly, she wasn't sure why she was so surprised - after everything else the mother and daughter had brought to her apartment, doll clothes weren't all that shocking. It just seemed slightly strange that they had something in her doll's specific size.
It was quite seasonally appropriate as well, turning the doll into a little elf. It was a green dress with short, puffy sleeves, held at the waist by a wide black belt, with large, fake gold button running down the chest. The very bottom of the skirt had a stripe of red, a thin gold border separating the two colors, and there was a Peter Pan collar with the same color scheme. Underneath the rather short skirt that came perhaps halfway down the doll's thighs was a set of red and white striped tights and a pair of little, flat-soled, black boots.
"Oh, how darling!" the mother cooed as she returned to Phoebe's high chair with a wash cloth to clean her face, then remove her bib. "Isn't your sister adorable? I bet you can't wait to get your own outfit on!" she exclaimed.
"No!" Phoebe shook her head. "I have to get to work! You guys already made me miss one day!"
"She is just so cute, isn't she?" the cheerleader asked, walking over to her and pinching her cheeks with her gloved hands. "She just loves her little games!"
"She is," the mother approved. "Do you want to go get her changed while I finish cleaning up?"
"Sure!" The cheerleader unlatched the tray and lifted Phoebe down from the chair, taking her hand and leading her back to her bedroom. Or, at least, Phoebe thought it was her bedroom. It was in the same place as her bedroom, through the same door, and yet... Everything was different. The bed, most of its rails still in place, had a canopy now, draped in a pink that matched the new sheets, not to mention most everything else in the room. Her dresser was much shorter and repainted, her vanity set, a gorgeous, antique mahogany, had somehow been transformed into a white and pink plastic mockery of its former self.
But that was nothing compared to what she saw when the cheerleader opened her closet. The day before, she had been sure several outfits that she'd unpacked were missing, even in the brief moment she'd been able to look inside before freaking out over what she'd assumed was a rat. Now, none of her clothes were there, though the closet was still full. Now, however, the clothes that filled it looked more suited for a toddler, lots of frilly party dresses and shortalls and cartoon characters, certainly nothing she would ever dream of wearing to the office. She was almost too busy gaping at them to notice the huge spiderweb in one corner of the closet, which she was sure was just as new as all these other additions to what had used to be her room.
"What did you do?!" she demanded, managing at last to yank her wrist away from the girl's hand. "What is wrong with you people?! This is my apartment! How dare you do all this?! You give my stuff back right now!"
"Hey!" the girl snapped, turning harshly toward Phoebe. "No shouting, young lady! You would think your daddy would have taught you better manners!"
"I want my clothes so I can get dressed, I want my phone so I can explain to my boss that I've been held hostage by maniacs the past couple days, and I want everyhing in here back the way it was by the time I get home from work tonight!" Phoebe stomped her foot dramatically. "I am not putting up with this anymore! This has gone way too far!"
"I think you'd better lower your voice, young lady," the girl told her, without a hint of fear at Phoebe's proclamations. "Mom was just telling me how she thought a nice, big enema when we get back might be what you needed to get rid of this bad mood you've been in lately, so you probably don't want her to hear you."
Phoebe glowered, folding her arms across her still bare chest, though not for long. The cheerleader easily pried them apart and lifted them up so she could still the dress over them, ignoring Phoebe's protests, which she did quiet down a bit after that threat, although it was only while the tights were being inched up over her bulging diaper that the entire thing sunk in. "Wait, back?" she squeaked. "From where?!"
"You know, silly!" the girl said. "You have to go tell Santa what you want for Christmas!"
Phoebe's eyes widened and her stomach churned at the idea of going out in public dressed like this. She felt certain that her dress was, proportionally, even shorter than the doll's had been, even shorter than the cheerleading costume from the day before, and even the slightest move made the crotch of her candy cane tights visible, and it only took a peek to make it obvious what was underneath them. At the same time, however, she knew that this could be a good thing. Surely somewhere on the way to Santa, someone would realize that there was something wrong; at the very least, she could tell the guy playing Santa and hopefully get help from him. Of course, she would still have to get to him, and sit on his lap, which would be plenty humiliating on their own. But at least there was some hope now. If she was really lucky, they'd pass a police officer on the way.
"Look at how darling they look!" the mother declared, clapping her hands as Phoebe was led into the living room. Just as she'd suspected earlier, almost all of her boxes were gone, though, seemingly in their place, toys were scattered throughout the room, lots of stuffed animals and dolls that were far less mobile than the one that had started this whole mess. Her television had shrunk, and all of her furniture was gone, replaced with child-sized toy chairs instead.
"Can you be a good 'big' sister and hold hands with your little sister?" she asked, her tone making it obvious that she didn't consider Phoebe and the doll to be different at all, that she was just appealing to Phoebe's bruised pride.
Phoebe sighed, half-waddling over to the doll, still not used to the diaper's thickness between her legs, or the crinkling that plagued her every movement, accompanied occasionally with a grumble from her stuffed stomach. She paused for a moment when she reached the toy, confused - hadn't it been smaller before? Much smaller? - then reached out and took its plastic hand before being ushered toward her front door.
Or, rather, where her front door had used to be. That she knew for sure had been there, with no doubt in her mind. And yet, now, somehow, it was gone. As they turned the corner that should have led to it, the apartment just seemed to continue. What should have been the hallway outside was the start of another, much larger living room, complete with a much fancier, and bigger, sofa than she'd had originally, several very large, comfortable looking armchairs, and a huge Christmas tree, covered in ornaments and tinsel and twinkling merrily with what looked like every possible color of lights, giving off what seemed to be the room's only illumination. Off in the distance there was even a fireplace, covered in red spots that Phoebe assumed were stockings, though she couldn't see them well enough in the dark to be sure.
"What is this?" Phoebe gasped. She turned, looking toward where the mother and cheerleader's apartment was, but that was just another hallway, like the one they'd just come out of. She could only see far enough to note an open bedroom door that had to have belonged to the cheerleader, as it looked a little more mature than her own, though still covered in posters of various boy bands and teen movies.
"Isn't it a pretty tree?" the cheerleader asked, seeming to assume that was what had Phoebe so astounded. "Maybe next year you two can help us put ornaments on it!"
"We'll see!" the mother chimed in. "You have to be very careful! Some of them are very fragile!"
Phoebe shook her head, distracted only momentarily by a cramp in her bowels. "B-But how is this here? It can't be here!" she shook her head, stumbling to the couch, feeling a sudden need to sit down. Things had been strange at her apartment for a while now, but that was nothing compared to this. This was like being dropped into a whole other world.
The mother caught her before she could hoist her diapered bottom onto the sofa. "The furniture is for grown-ups," she told Phoebe, as if it were something she'd had to tell her a hundred times. "We don't want you leaking on it, now do we?"
Phoebe was still too stunned to protest that she was an adult, that she wasn't going to leak. She became less sure of that, however, as she quickly turned her head, sure she saw something crawling on the wall from the corner of her eye, though there was nothing there once she was facing it. She shook her head, heart pounding, telling herself to focus on the big picture here, and where all the other apartments on this floor had gone. "What did you do?!"
"I didn't do anything, sweetie," the mother told her. "Why are you so fussy? You can go back to your playroom after you tell Santa what you want! Don't you want to make sure you get the right thing? You're almost out of time!"
Phoebe calmed herself a little, remembering that she was going to use this opportunity to escape, or at least get help, though she was clearly going to have to keep some details to herself, or people would think she was insane. "Okay," she nodded. "Where are we going to see Santa?"
"Going?" the woman chuckled. "We're not going anywhere! Santa is coming to us!"
Phoebe could see her hopes for getting out dwindling. "Coming here?" she whined. "But..."
Before she could continue, she saw something moving off in the fireplace, crawling out and then stretching up, pulling itself to its full, quite impressive height, something that was instantly recognizable as Santa Claus, pulling a large bag behind himself. "Ho, ho, ho!" he bellowed as he strode across the room. "Merry Christmas, children!"
The doll ran up to him excitedly, but Phoebe was a little more hesitant. He was a huge man, even taller than the mother, and, as was appropriate for his role, fairly rotund as well. He had on a traditional Santa outfit, complete with white gloves, and he looked jolly enough, but nothing in this place was ever as it seemed. He seemed to notice her caution and chuckled, setting down his sack. "No need to be afraid, child! Unless there is something you're hiding from Santa!" Before she could respond, he had scooped her up and taken her and the doll to the nearest, largest chair, next to his bag, sitting down and placing one of them on each knee. The mother and the cheerleader cooed, hurrying to watch the show.
"Now, have you two been good girls this year?" Santa asked, turning first to the doll, who nodded, and then to Phoebe.
"Who are you?" Phoebe asked, squirming uncomfortably. It felt rather odd to be sitting on some strange man's lap, especially dressed as she was, though he didn't seem to mind.
"You know me! I'm Santa Claus!" the big man laughed. "Now tell me - were you a good girl this year?"
Phoebe still wasn't sure if she could trust this guy or not, but as she sat on his knee, she could see more shadowy figures racing across the ceiling and along the walls, each one making her more sure that she couldn't be imagining all of them as her skin crawled. "You have to help me!" she hissed, crawling up a little closer to Santa's ear. "You have to get me out of here!"
"Ho, ho!" Santa chortled. "I'm sure you'd be a big help, little elf, but they need you here to help with your sister! Now tell me, have you been a good girl?"
"Yes!" Phoebe snapped, annoyed at being asked the same thing over and over. "Just listen..."
"Have you?" he asked, growing more serious this time.
For a moment, she almost doubted herself. Was this a test of some sort? He'd only asked the doll once, but then, it was a doll. She fidgeted in her diapers, remembering back to the times when she'd been a little kid sitting on Santa's lap, back when she still believed, and had always been just a little terrified that he would know about some naughty thing she had done earlier in the year that would make him refuse to give her presents. "Y-Yes," she said again, some of that old insecurity creeping back.
And for good reason. Santa shook his head, setting the doll down on the floor. "Do you think you can fool me, little girl? Lying is naughty, too, you know, and particularly foolish when you're doing it to Santa!"
Before Phoebe knew what was happening, she had been flipped onto her stomach across Santa's lap. Almost instantly, she began to cry. "No!" she whimpered, feeling her bladder spasm slightly in fear, dampening her diaper right before it was pulled down. "No, please, not another spanking!"
"No, those don't do much good, do they?" Santa asked. "You're still a naughty little girl! But there is one other punishment we can try!" Santa held her firmly in place as he reached into the bag beside his chair, pulling out a hot water bottle, bulging with fullness, a tube attached. "I think this will help adjust your attitude!" he declared.
"Go get another diaper," the mother suggested to the cheerleader.
"Aww, I wanna watch!" the girl whined.
"Go, or do you want to be next?" the woman threatened.
"But mom!" the cheerleader pouted before having a brilliant idea. "Hey, sweetie..."
Phoebe thrashed on Santa's lap, heart racing, but Santa wasn't in a hurry. He held her in place, letting her tire herself out before sliding the hose inside. She whined as she felt it intrude, sliding into her, and, a moment later, she let out a much louder protest as the water began to flow through it and into her. "Please, stop!" she begged. "I'm not a baby!" But that was just what she felt like as she laid there, helpless, the water slowly but surely filling her up, diaper around her knees and crinkling with every escape attempt. She groaned as she felt a cramp, already feeling uncomfortably bloated, with no idea how much was left in the bottle.
"This should do her some good!" the cheerleader declared gleefully. Phoebe could only see the legs of the girl and her mother, but she had no doubt they were both smiling as they watched the spectacle. Her position did give her a good view of the doll, however, as it toddled back into view, carrying another one of her diapers.
That was some relief, at least, she told herself, gritting her teeth. At least she was going to get changed pretty quickly after what was bound to be one of the most humiliating moments of her life. Into another diaper, sure, but it would be better than going back into the one she'd already wet. Her main worry now was getting to the toilet in time. She disliked the idea of having to waddle hurriedly back into her apartment, to the bathroom, while her stomach churned and grumbled ominously, afraid each step that she'd be too late, but she also didn't want Santa to carry her there and plop her down on the toilet so he, and likely the mom and cheerleader, could watch.
As it turned out, however, neither of those situations were a problem. As the water finally ran out, Santa gently extracted the hose, then pulled the diaper back up over her red bottom. She closed her eyes, preparing for the mad dash to the bathroom, only to be flipped over onto her back and laid on the floor. "Thank you! What a good little girl!" he declared. Phoebe opened her eyes in confusion, just in time to see Santa take the diaper from the doll to slide under her already diapered backside.
"What are you doing?" she squeaked, squirming weakly as she watched him tear holes in the plastic lining of her diaper. Realistically, she knew the answer, but her brain couldn't process it, even as he pulled the second diaper up between her legs, forcing them even further apart, and taped it up. "I have to go to the potty!" she wailed.
"Yes, I know!" he chuckled, patting her double-thick diaper before standing her up on her rather unsteady feet and pulling her tights back up, just barely stretching them enough to fit over the newly increased bulk of her undergarment.
"No!" she shook her head desperately, while he put her back on his knee, then grabbed the doll for his other leg. "No, not in my diapers!"
"Santa's a busy man," the mother reminded her harshly. "He doesn't have time for you to try to use the potty!"
"There!" Santa declared. "I think that's enough punishment, don't you? Now we can declare you a good girl for the year! As long as you can be nice for the next couple days until Christmas, I think I can find room in my sleigh for a few toys for you! Now, what do you want for Christmas?"
"Messy baby!" the doll chirped in, pointing toward the red-faced Phoebe, who blushed even darker, too preoccupied with everything to process that the doll's phrase had changed, since it sounded close enough, and like something she'd expect a doll to say.
"Ho, ho, not yet, little one! At least, I don't think so!" Phoebe was mortified as she felt the big man tug out the back of her diapers. "No, not yet, but that won't take until Christmas, I don't think!"
He was definitely right about that. Phoebe stared down at her swollen stomach and her diapered crotch, now easily visible beneath her skirt no matter what she did. How long did she have? The cramps were getting worse very quickly, and all of her wiggling on his lap did very little to stop that. She was going to poop her pants, she realized, and there was very little she could do about it.
"And what do you want?" Phoebe squeaked as Santa bounced the leg she was sitting on, surprising her enough to send a wave of liquid into her diaper. She wrinkled her nose, hoping that was mostly just the water that had been piped into her, but not wanting to find out for sure.
"I want out of here!" Phoebe whimpered. "Please, just let me down!"
"There's no need to be shy, little one!" Santa declared. "I'm Santa! I can bring you whatever you want!"
Phoebe winced as another cramp hit, forcing a little more out of her bottom, though this time she could tell there was a little more than water there. "I want my phone back!" she wailed. "I want my clothes back! I want to be an adult again! I even want to go back to work! I just want out of here!"
"Well, I think you already have a nice toy phone," Santa said. "But I can get you some pretty dress-up clothes so you can pretend to be a grown-up! What kind of job do you want? I can get you a toy stethoscope and you can play doctor! Or..."
Phoebe gasped as another cramp wracked her body, forcing her to involuntarily give a good push, sending a huge rush of mushy mess into the seat of her diapers. She had hoped at least for some privacy, but the fact that Santa stopped talking just as she did it made her suspect that every eye was on her while she committed this most infantile act, made all the more juvenile for being on Santa's lap while she did it. It was all so sudden and unstoppable that she almost couldn't process that she'd actually done it, despite the squishy mass invading her pants.
At least, not until Santa gave her another knee bounce and laughed, "What a good little helper you are! Already making a nice, big present!"
Phoebe wasn't sure if she could consider it a comfort that technically she had made it, rather than being in the process, though she supposed she should be happy to be done with it... Except that, as he continued to bounce her, spreading the mess all throughout her thick diaper, she felt her body expel another round of the stuff, filling it even further. She sniffled softly, cheeks burning.
"Messy baby!" the doll chimed in again, its voice sounding like a tattling toddler as it pointed across Santa's lap.
"Yes, she is," Santa agreed, patting the lumpy rear of Phoebe's diaper. "But that's all right! That's what good little babies are supposed to do! And since she's going to be a good baby now, she'll get lots of nice presents on Christmas morning... And I'm sure she'll be making another one then, too!"
Phoebe blushed as she thought about Christmas morning, about being brought out of her bed, diaper quite possibly soggy, and sat in front of the Christmas tree, tearing away at wrapping paper beside the doll, not even noticing her diaper expanding until she hears the cheerleader giggle and tug at the waistband. She'd probably lay her down and change her right there...
"No!" Phoebe shook her head. "No, I'm not a baby! You let me out of here! Take me with you!" she demanded, glaring up at Santa, grabbing his beard. "I don't care who you are, just get me out of this place!" She grunted in surprise as one final load slid out, thoroughly packing her diaper as full as Santa's bag. She hadn't even realized there was more inside her, and, in surprise, she jerked backwards, not thinking about the beard in her hand, which came with he.
Her eyes went wide as she saw the handful of whiskers. They had felt very real, and she turned back toward Santa to apologize, surprised he hadn't yelped in pain, at least until she saw his face, and the spot where she had gotten them from. She gasped, scooting away, falling off his lap and to the floor onto her well-padded, if quite messy, backside. She dropped the beard, noticing only then the bit of plastic the whiskers were attached to, which looked as though it would fit perfectly into the empty spot on his face. Without it there, she could see inside his head, and it was empty, a plastic shell covering nothing. She felt her bladder empty itself as she scrambled backwards, confused and terrified.
"Wh-What are you?!" she stammered.
Santa set the doll down on the floor, then stood, towering over Phoebe. "That was a very naughty thing to do, little girl!"
Frantically, Phoebe got to her feet and took off running, though she wasn't sure where she was planning to go. The cheerleader leapt in front of her, stopping her for a moment, but Phoebe could see her coming, and had just enough warning to ready a kick to the teen's shin. Her boot connected, then sank into the girl's 'skin', leaving a dent. Her stomach dropped as she stared at it, but she forced herself not to think about it and keep going, driving forward into the darkness, away from the Christmas tree.
As she ran - at least as fast as her loaded double diaper would allow her to - she tried to get her bearings, to figure out where the elevator should be. In the darkness, it was even harder to figure out, as she stumbled over things she couldn't see, felt strange things brushing against her legs and tried not to think about what she'd seen crawling around the walls as she sat on Santa's lap. It took her a few frantic moments to realize that it had to be where the fireplace was now, enough time for the mother to order the others to "Find her!"
Phoebe took that as a signal that she was safe for the moment and paused, trying to catch her breath and formulate a plan. All she had to do was make it to the fireplace without being seen. That shouldn't be too hard, right? She tried to keep her panting quiet, tried to keep from thinking too hard about what she'd just seen. If she was careful, she could get away, and then she'd never have to think about it again. She'd go to another apartment building, beg someone to let her use a phone, and call her mom to come pick her up and get her out of this crazy city.
What she didn't take into account, however, was that the darkness didn't seem to bother the things. They'd gotten around in it just fine until then, so, as she considered it later, she wasn't sure why she had thought she could hide in it. Sure enough, as she prepared herself to make a dash for the fireplace, she felt herself get picked up. "Let me go!" she insisted.
"Somebody's been a naughty girl!" Santa's voice boomed in her ear as he carried her back toward the Christmas tree. "I think you're getting coal this year!"
Phoebe struggled futilely against his strong arms, but she couldn't stop him from taking her back to the chair and flipping her over his knee yet again. This time, however, he didn't hesitate to spank her, right across her messy diaper. If there was any spot under her diaper that wasn't already coated in the muck from his knee bouncing, he made sure to get it as he spanked her, his large hands strong enough to ensure that, even through the two diapers, it still stung.
By the time he was finished and handed her off to the mother, she felt every inch the chastised little girl they were trying to make her, bottom spanked yet again, and encased in a very full diaper, surrounded by people - or, rather, things - much bigger and stronger than her. The mother picked her up and carried her back into the place her apartment had once been, followed close behind by the cheerleader and the dolly, all of whom crowded into the bathroom, the cheerleader going off in one corner to scowl at her dented leg. There was plenty of space, seeing as the toilet had vanished, leaving just a bathtub and a sink, both of which looked bigger than usual.
Phoebe flailed desperately, trying to get away as the mother began stripping the clothes off of her, one hand accidently hitting the light switch. Phoebe gasped as she finally saw her two captors in full light, seeing now why they had chosen to keep things so dark for so long. In dim light, when she could see only parts of them at once, they looked real enough, but now she could see that they were no more-so than the dolly. Their skin had an unnatural, plasticky sheen to it, and as the mother undressed her, Phoebe could see that her movements were strangely stiff beneath those gloves. Their eyes looked real enough, which made the whole effect even creepier, and their mouth twitched and moved with a hint of realism, but they were off just enough that, now that she could see them, she had no doubt they were just bigger version of her Christmas "present".
"Please let me go!" she begged as the mother plopped her into the bath and began to wash her, while the cheerleader pressed on the sides of her leg, popping the dent back out. "Please, I don't belong here!" But they didn't say anything else as they finished their work, cleaning her up and then taking her to her room and diapering her on the newly-appeared changing table before putting her into bed. "Please, I'm not a baby! Let me out of here!" she cried, only to be silenced as the mother snapped the rail into place, and she drifted instantly off to sleep.