Welby adjusted Hannah gently in his lap, her small frame settling against him as he leaned back into the couch. Emily sat beside him, her bottle in her hands, though he could see the tension in her posture, the way she avoided meeting his eyes. He couldn’t blame her. He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to look her in the eyes either if he were in her position.

A knot of guilt twisted in his stomach as he glanced down at Hannah. Her pacifier bobbed faintly in her mouth, her wide eyes focused on the television screen. She didn’t know what was coming, not really—not the full extent of it, at least. The thought only deepened his sense of dread, a heavy weight pressing on his chest as the brightly colored logo for Naomi and Oliver appeared on the screen.

He felt sick.

He hated this. He hated that he had to force the girls to endure this insidious cartoon and that Miranda and her superiors had backed him into this corner. But what choice did he have? The alternative was unthinkable. The thought of losing Hannah and Emily, of them falling into the hands of someone like Miranda, made his blood run cold.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured under his breath, his hand resting gently on Hannah’s back as the opening music swelled. He wasn’t sure if she could hear him, but the words were more for himself than anyone else.

The screen flickered to life, and the animated characters Naomi and Oliver jumped onto it with exaggerated cheers. Welby’s stomach twisted further as the theme song began, the chipper melody grating against his nerves. 

“Hello, Hannah and Emily!” Naomi chirped, her oversized, animated eyes sparkling with delight. “We’re so happy to see you!”

Welby froze.

His heart skipped a beat, his body stiffening as the cartoon continued. “Hannah and Emily?” he muttered, his voice low and incredulous. He glanced down at the girls, his confusion mirrored in their wide-eyed expressions.

“How—” he began, but the words caught in his throat as Oliver leaned closer to the screen, his diaper crinkling audibly as he grinned. “That’s right! We have so much fun planned for you today, Hannah and Emily!”

The knot in Welby’s stomach tightened into a vice. He had expected the cartoon to be invasive and manipulative, but this? How could they know the girls’ names? Was it some kind of monitoring system? Some feature he hadn’t been warned about?

He felt Hannah shift slightly in his lap, her small hands clutching her bunny as her pacifier bobbed faster. Emily, beside him, gripped her bottle so tightly that he thought the plastic might crack. The tension in the room was palpable, and the cartoon's bright, cheerful voices starkly contrasted with his growing dread.

“Stay calm,” he murmured, more to himself than to the girls. His hand rubbed small, soothing circles on Hannah’s back, though his heart was pounding. He didn’t know what was coming but knew it wasn’t good.

As Naomi and Oliver continued their patronizing introductions, Welby’s mind raced. This wasn’t just a cartoon. It was a tool, something far more insidious than he had realized. He didn’t know how the government monitored the girls through the show, but it was clear now that they were. The use of their names and personalized interactions wasn’t just unsettling. It was terrifying.

The cartoon’s vibrant colors and cheerful music only deepened his discomfort. He could feel the girls stiffening beside him, their unease radiating like a physical force. He wished he could stop it and shield them from whatever was coming, but Miranda’s threats loomed large in his mind. He had no choice.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible as he tightened his hold on Hannah. “I’ve got you.”

But his resolve wavered as the cartoon continued, again calling the girls by name. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that promise.

Welby’s discomfort deepened as the patronizing Potty Song filled the room, its saccharine lyrics drilling into his mind like nails on a chalkboard. The bright, colorful characters swayed and danced on the screen, their sing-song voices urging Hannah and Emily to let go, to be good Littles, and to use their diapers.

He felt it before he saw it. Hannah shifted slightly in his lap, her small body tensing before a warmth spread across her diaper. The faintest shudder from her accompanied the subtle crinkle of the padding. He could feel the shift in her breathing; her body seemed to relax and tense simultaneously as she gave in. Welby’s chest tightened with sadness, guilt, and deep regret.

He wanted to tell her it was okay, to comfort and praise her the way Naomi and Oliver were, but the words caught in his throat. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. It wasn’t natural, wasn’t right. Hannah hadn’t chosen this—she had been manipulated, coerced by the show’s insidious pull. Praising her felt like a betrayal of everything he wanted to protect her from.

Beside him, Emily whimpered, her hands gripping her dress as she fought her own battle. Welby’s heart ached as he saw her lift her bottom off the couch, her face burning with humiliation as her diaper swelled and sagged under the strain. The bright voices on the screen praised both girls relentlessly, their exaggerated cheer a cruel mockery of what should have been a tender moment of care.

Welby clenched his jaw, his hands trembling slightly as he held Hannah close. He hated this. He hated that he was forced to sit here and watch, hated the helplessness that gnawed at his resolve. He wanted to protect them, to shield them from the very thing unfolding before his eyes, but Miranda’s threats loomed large in his mind. He couldn’t stop the show or intervene, no matter how much he wanted to.

When the cartoon finally ended, the screen faded to black, the cheerful closing theme a bitter echo in his ears. Welby didn’t wait for the silence to settle. He pulled both girls into his arms, hugging them tightly as if he could somehow undo the damage that had just been done.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. 

Hannah buried her face against his chest, her small body trembling slightly as her pacifier bobbed in her mouth. Emily clung to his sleeve, her usual confidence stripped away, leaving a quiet vulnerability that made his heartache.

They didn’t ask why—not immediately. But when the questions came, Welby answered them as best he could, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. He explained Miranda’s threats, the monitoring, and the consequences of stopping the show. He told them how proud he was of them for enduring it, even though the words felt hollow in his mouth.

When the questions stopped, he stood, holding Hannah securely in his arms. “Come on,” he said gently, his tone softer now. “Let’s get you both cleaned up.”

He carried Hannah back to the nursery, Emily following closely behind, her steps slow and hesitant. The weight of what had just happened hung heavily over them, but Welby pushed forward, focusing on what he could do—care for them, comfort them, and try to rebuild their trust.

He gently laid Hannah on the changing table in the nursery, her flushed cheeks and wide eyes cutting straight through him. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, his voice quieter this time as he worked to change her. He removed the thick, soiled diaper and replaced it with fresh padding that he fastened securely, his hands moving with practiced care.

When he finished, he lifted Hannah, holding her close for a moment, and placed another sticker on her chart before gently setting her in the play area. He turned to Emily, his heart heavy, as she hesitantly climbed onto the changing table, her embarrassment palpable. He worked quickly, cleaning and changing her with the same tender care before helping her down.

As they settled into the nursery, Welby crouched beside them, meeting their eyes. “I promise,” he said softly, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll do everything I can to make this easier for you. I know this isn’t fair, and I hate it as much as you do.”

Hannah and Emily exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of understanding and lingering discomfort. Welby could see their acceptance, but it did little to soothe the agonizing discomfort tearing him apart inside.

He was supposed to protect them from this, and he failed.

*

Kaylee squirmed in Ash’s arms, the soft crinkling of her diaper a constant, humiliating reminder of her diminished state. Ash’s hand squeezed the swollen padding with deliberate emphasis, her grin smug as she carried Kaylee toward the kitchen.

“Someone’s a soggy little thing,” Ash teased, her tone dripping with mock sweetness. “I’ll have to change you soon, but let’s take care of this first.”

Kaylee’s cheeks burned, her hands clutching at the blanket draped over her shoulders. She wanted to snap back, to retort with something sharp and biting, but the words stuck in her throat. There was no point. Ash had the upper hand, and Kaylee’s position left her with no leverage.

Her stomach sank further as Ash opened a cabinet and retrieved a canister of powdered formula. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kaylee muttered, groaning audibly as Ash prepared the bottle. The clinking of the bottle against the counter and the soft whoosh of the formula being mixed with water felt like nails on a chalkboard.

Ash smirked over her shoulder, pouring the warm mixture into a bottle. “What’s the matter, Kaylee? Not looking forward to your meal?” She shook the bottle briskly before turning back to Kaylee with a mockingly innocent expression. “Oh, I forgot—you’re an Amazon. You’re used to steak and wine, aren’t you?”

Kaylee glared at her, her face heating further as Ash leaned closer, her voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “You could've had that if your kind weren’t so cruel. But no. You’re here now, and I think it’s time you learn how the other side lives.”

Before Kaylee could protest, Ash shoved the bottle's rubber nipple into her mouth with deliberate force. The warm, sweet formula flooded her taste buds, its texture thick and creamy as it coated her tongue. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant—its sweetness was reminiscent of vanilla—but the humiliation of being forced to drink it overshadowed any semblance of enjoyment.

Kaylee squirmed in Ash’s arms, her face blazing as she was reduced to suckling from a bottle like a helpless infant. The taste lingered on her tongue, its cloying sweetness almost oppressive as she swallowed reluctantly. She hated the way it filled her mouth, the way the warmth seemed to seep into her core, making her feel small and vulnerable in ways she couldn’t ignore.

“Good girl,” Ash cooed, her smirk widening as she gently tilted the bottle higher, forcing Kaylee to drink faster. “See? It’s not so bad. Littles deal with this all the time. Consider this… payback.”

Kaylee whimpered softly around the nipple, her eyes squeezing shut as the humiliation clawed at her chest. The suckling felt degrading, and every bottle pulled a reminder of how far she had fallen. She tried to ignore the way Ash’s grip on her diapered bottom added to the humiliation, the occasional squeeze sending jolts of indignation through her.

The formula’s sweetness clung to her tongue even as the bottle emptied, its warmth pooling in her stomach. Ash pulled the bottle away with a smug grin, wiping a stray trickle of formula from Kaylee’s chin with the blanket. “There we go,” she said brightly. “All done. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Kaylee didn’t answer; her face turned away as she fought back tears of frustration and shame. Her body felt heavy, weighed down by the mixture of formula in her stomach and the oppressive reality of her situation. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but all she could do was sit in Ash’s arms, defeated and humiliated.

Kaylee squirmed as Ash shifted her position, pulling her up over one shoulder like an actual baby. The blanket slipped slightly, and the cool air of the apartment brushed against her bare skin, heightening the humiliation that burned in her cheeks. Before she could protest, Ash’s hand gently patted her back in a steady rhythm.

“Let’s get that formula settled,” Ash said, her tone light and almost sing-song, as if she were enjoying every second.

Kaylee’s hands tightened into fists against Ash’s shoulder, her face pressed against the soft fabric of Ash’s shirt. The indignity of being burped like an infant was unbearable, the rhythmic pats jarring and relentless. Her cheeks flamed brighter as she felt a small bubble of air escape, followed by a second, the soft sound humiliatingly audible in the quiet apartment.

Ash smirked, her voice filled with mock satisfaction. “There we go. Good baby.”

Kaylee’s heart sank further as Ash pulled her back down, wiping her face with the edge of the blanket like she was cleaning up a messy toddler. Her stomach churned, not from the formula but from the sheer weight of her shame. She couldn’t meet Ash’s eyes, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor as her thoughts spiraled.

Why her? she thought bitterly, her fingers gripping the blanket tightly. Why did it have to be her?

She knew the answer, of course. Ash’s anger wasn’t just about her. It was about every Amazon who had ever wronged a Tweener, who had taken away their choices and reduced them to something less human. And now, Ash had the chance to even the score—even if Kaylee wasn’t the true target of her fury.

If Kaylee were in Ash’s shoes, she knew she’d feel the same way. She’d relish the opportunity to finally strike back at the people who had hurt her, to reclaim some measure of power. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to bear. It didn’t stop the ache in her chest, the sadness that gnawed at her as she thought about how she had destroyed her reputation with Ash.

If only she hadn’t acted so rashly. If only she had been patient and had trusted that there were other ways to help Ash heal. But no—she had let her desperation cloud her judgment and had made choices that couldn’t be undone. And now, she was paying the price.

This wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t betrayed her, Kaylee thought, if she hadn’t tried to take control. If she hadn’t been so blind…

Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she glanced at Ash, still grinning with satisfaction and bitterness. Kaylee’s heart ached, not just from the humiliation but from the realization that she had been the one to ruin everything. This wasn’t just about Ash getting revenge—it was about the trust Kaylee had shattered, the bond she had broken.

If Laura were in her place, Ash would deserve to enjoy this. She’d deserve to feel powerful. But it wasn’t not Laura. It was her, Miss Kaylee.

The weight of that realization settled heavily on her as Ash cradled her again, humming softly like she was soothing an infant. Kaylee couldn’t fight back, couldn’t argue. She could only sit in her humiliation and regret, knowing she had no one to blame but herself.

Kaylee blinked slowly, her vision blurring as drowsiness crept over her like a heavy fog. Ash easily carried her into the bedroom, with the gentle sway of each step making it harder to keep her eyes open. The room was modest but sleek, with clean lines and a minimalist design. Her gaze fell on the crib near the bed, its pristine white bars standing out starkly in the dim light.

The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. A crib. For her.

Ash approached the crib, her movements deliberate as she lowered the rail with a soft click. Without hesitation, she deposited Kaylee inside, tucking the blanket around her snugly. The soft mattress cradled Kaylee’s body, and she squirmed. The crinkling of her diaper was loud in her ears as she tried to sit up. Her limbs felt heavy and uncooperative.

“What’s… happening?” Kaylee mumbled, her voice thick and sluggish as she fought against the unnatural lethargy washing over her.

Ash leaned on the crib’s railing, her expression calm, almost casual. “What’s happening,” she repeated with a wry smile, “is that you’re getting some well-deserved rest.”

Kaylee’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering in her bleary eyes. “But… why…” Her words slurred together as the pull of sleep became harder to resist.

Ash’s grin widened slightly, though her tone remained light. “I didn’t want to worry about you getting into trouble tonight. Amazons do this all the time—add something to the bottle to ensure their Littles sleep soundly. I figured, why not follow their example?”

Kaylee’s heart sank as the meaning of Ash’s words sank in. “You… drugged me?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Relax,” Ash said, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s harmless. You’ll wake up in the morning no worse for wear. And your diaper will last till then, so no need to worry about waking up wet—or worse.” She pointedly looked at Kaylee’s soggy diaper, her smirk returning.

Kaylee tried to muster the energy to argue and protest, but her body betrayed her. Her eyelids grew heavier, her limbs sinking into the soft bedding as the haze of drowsiness took hold. She felt utterly powerless, her humiliation deepening as she realized she couldn’t even fight back.

Ash reached into the crib, pulling the blanket snugly around Kaylee in a secure swaddle. The pressure was oddly comforting, though Kaylee hated herself for finding any solace in it. Her mind spun, her emotions tangled with anger, regret, and exhaustion.

Ash leaned down, her face softening as she kissed Kaylee’s forehead gently. “Sweet dreams, baby,” she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of teasing and tenderness. “We’ll start fresh in the morning.”

Kaylee’s vision blurred further, the edges of her consciousness fading as sleep claimed her. The last thing she saw was Ash’s smile, faintly smug but not unkind before her world went dark.

*

Ash stood over the crib, her hands resting lightly on the railing as she gazed down at Kaylee. The once-imposing Amazon looked so small now; her shrunken form swaddled snugly in the blanket. Her cheeks were still faintly flushed, her breathing slowing as the formula’s “extra ingredient” effects lulled her into a deep, unavoidable sleep. For a moment, Kaylee stirred, her lips parting slightly as her head tilted to one side.

Ash hesitated, a flicker of guilt tugging at her chest. She reached into the crib and gently placed a pacifier against Kaylee’s lips, expecting resistance, but to her surprise, Kaylee’s mouth closed around it instinctively. The soft suckling that followed was faint but unmistakable, and Ash felt an unexpected pang of pity.

Her brow furrowed as she straightened, her gaze lingering on the vulnerable figure before her. Kaylee looked… peaceful in a way Ash hadn’t anticipated. The smug satisfaction she’d felt earlier, when she’d squeezed Kaylee’s soggy diaper and watched her squirm, began to waver under the weight of something else entirely. Regret.

Ash’s mind flickered back to the moment Kaylee had lost control, the way her face had burned with humiliation as she soaked her diaper. At the time, it had felt like justice. Finally, an Amazon experienced the same degrading reality that Littles and Tweeners like Ash had been subjected to for years. But now, watching Kaylee sleep, the sense of satisfaction curdled into something more complicated.

“This isn’t me,” Ash muttered, her fingers tightening on the crib rail. She wasn’t cruel—at least, she didn’t want to be. And yet, she couldn’t deny the small, shameful thrill she’d felt watching Kaylee struggle, the vindication of seeing her brought low.

The memory of her own experiences resurfaced, sharp and vivid. The endless diaper changes, the patronizing coos, the enforced helplessness—all designed to strip her of dignity and autonomy. Forcing Kaylee into those same circumstances had felt like poetic justice at first. But now? Now, it felt heavy, like a weight she couldn’t shake.

Ash exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “Poetic justice, huh?” she muttered, her voice tinged with bitterness. She looked back down at Kaylee, whose pacifier bobbed faintly as she nursed in her sleep. The sight stirred something deeper in Ash—a mix of pity, anger, and an uncomfortable realization.

She knew what it felt like to be in Kaylee’s position: the helplessness, the humiliation, the loss of control. And as much as Kaylee deserved to understand what it meant to be stripped of power, Ash couldn’t escape the shame she felt for taking pride in it.

“I don’t hate you,” Ash whispered, her voice barely audible. “I hate what you represent, what you’ve done. But this? This isn’t who I want to be.”

Her fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the blanket, tucking it in more securely around Kaylee. The girl looked so small and utterly different from the towering Amazon that had once loomed over her. And yet, the vulnerability in her face reminded Ash of herself—of the countless nights she’d spent staring at the ceiling, swaddled and helpless, wondering if she’d ever get her life back.

Ash straightened, stepping back from the crib. She folded her arms across her chest, her gaze still fixed on Kaylee. “This isn’t about revenge,” she murmured. “It’s about making sure you understand. Making sure you feel what you put others through.”

Yet, even as she said the words, the shame lingered, a quiet reminder that justice and cruelty often straddled a fine line.

Ash stepped out of the bedroom, her footsteps heavy, quietly shutting the door behind her. The soft click of the latch echoed in the stillness of the apartment, but the noise barely registered. Her chest ached, her throat tight, as she leaned back against the door, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as the first tear slipped down her cheek.

It hurt—more than she had expected and more than she wanted to admit. The tears came quickly, warm and relentless, blurring her vision. Ash pressed her face into her knees, muffling a quiet sob as her thoughts spiraled.

Why? she thought bitterly, the question looping endlessly in her mind. Why did Kaylee have to betray her? Why did she force her into this?

The memories came unbidden, sharp, and vivid, cutting through her anger. She remembered the day Kaylee had helped rescue her—how the Amazon had stood firm, shielding her from Laura’s cruelty and vowing to protect her. Ash had been wary then, distrustful of anyone with the size and power to reduce her to nothing, but Kaylee persisted.

She had talked to Ash for hours, gently coaxing her out of the shell she had built around herself. They’d shared quiet moments, long conversations, and even laughter. Kaylee had been the first Amazon to make Ash feel… human again.

Then there was the daycare—the project that had given Ash purpose, something to focus on and rebuild her life around. Kaylee had been instrumental in making it happen. She’d advocated for Ash, pulled strings, and offered advice when Ash was unsure. Together, they’d built something that felt like a fresh start.

And now? Now, all of it felt like a cruel lie.

Ash sniffled, wiping at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. The tears kept coming, her frustration mingling with the sorrow on her chest. “Did I mean nothing to you, Kaylee?” she asked bitterly. “Was I just some project to you, someone to manipulate?”

The thought twisted like a knife, but Ash couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t understand how someone who had worked hard to earn her trust could throw it all away. “Why did you try so hard to befriend me if you were just going to betray me?” The question burned in her mind, unanswered and unrelenting.

She let out a shaky breath, her shoulders trembling as she tried to collect herself. But the pain wouldn’t subside, the wound too fresh, too raw. Ash had spent so long believing Kaylee was different that she was one of the few Amazons who truly understood. And now that belief lay shattered, its pieces cutting deeper with every thought.

“Why, Kaylee?” Ash whispered, her voice breaking as another sob wracked her frame. “Why did you have to prove me right? Why couldn’t you just be different?”

The apartment was silent around her, the emptiness amplifying her anguish. She didn’t know how long she sat there, her back pressed against the door, her tears soaking into her knees. All she knew was the hollow ache in her chest, the betrayal that felt as vast and unyielding as the world trying to break her.