The line snaked through a dense, eerie garden lit by flickering lanterns hanging from twisted iron posts. Emily glanced up at the towering structure before her: the Haunted Mansion. Its foreboding silhouette was bathed in the dim glow of the overcast sky, and ivy crept up its weathered walls. The grand, creaking doors swung open periodically, allowing small groups inside, and a low, chilling organ tune wafted out with each opening.

Despite the mansion's imposing architecture, the details unsettled Emily. Statues of stern-faced Amazons stood in the courtyard, clutching oversized pacifiers and bottles as if offering them to passersby. Stone plaques adorned the pathway, each engraved with warnings about the dangers of "big kid" choices—spilled milk, scraped knees, and, most prominently, accidents. One depicted a forlorn Little holding their stomach, a dark puddle forming beneath them as ominous eyes loomed overhead. Another showed an Amazon with a disapproving frown, pointing a finger at a terrified Little sitting on a potty.

Emily's stomach churned as she tried to shake the discomfort. She wasn’t easily spooked, but this wasn’t traditional horror—it was a mockery of her independence, a grotesque caricature of what Amazons viewed as "proper care."

Lucas’s warm and steady hand squeezed hers gently. She looked up, meeting his soft, reassuring smile. “We’re in this together,” he said quietly, his tone firm yet comforting. Emily nodded, exhaling slowly as she let his strength bolster her. 

The line moved forward, passing under the grand archway into the mansion. The air turned cool and damp. The dim lighting cast long shadows inside, and a voice boomed overhead, welcoming them to "The Nursery Eternal." The stretching room was next, its walls decorated with portraits that warped as the room ascended. What began as cheerful images of Littles playing in oversized nurseries twisted into unsettling scenes: a Little climbing out of a crib, only to be caught by a shadowy Amazon; another with a triumphant smile, sitting on a potty, transformed into a crying, diaper-clad version of themselves.

Emily’s fingers tightened around Lucas’s. Her heart raced, and she glanced at him nervously. He responded with another gentle squeeze. Hannah squirmed slightly in the baby harness strapped to Daddy’s chest, her soft coos barely audible over the deep, ominous voice of the Ghost Host echoing through the stretching room. Emily’s eyes darted to the source of every unsettling sound, her unease growing with each revelation of the Amazon-themed haunt. She hadn’t missed how Daddy and Evelyn’s hands had been intertwined since lunch, a subtle but clear signal of a budding connection.

As the room stretched higher, Emily returned to the present. The portraits of happy Littles morphed into twisted warnings of disobedience and independence gone awry. Each painting delivers the same message: freedom was dangerous, and Littles were safest when dependent. Emily clenched her fists, feeling a pang of indignation. Beside her, Lucas glanced over, his calm demeanor grounding her again.

When the stretching room doors creaked open, the group was ushered into a dimly lit corridor lined with oversized, pastel-colored high chairs and bassinets, all eerily still. The ride vehicles soon appeared—massive potty-shaped "doom buggies" with exaggerated handles and faux cushioned seats. Emily felt her stomach twist as Daddy helped Lucas into one, securing the safety bar over his lap.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Lucas said, offering her a small smile as she climbed in beside him. “It’s just a ride.”

Welby helped Emily into her seat, adjusting the bar before giving her a quick pat on the head. She glanced up at him, her unease momentarily replaced with a flicker of curiosity. Welby and Evelyn exchanged another glance, their quiet understanding apparent. Whatever they had discussed earlier had lightened his mood, and Emily couldn’t help but wonder if her initial suspicions were correct.

The doom buggies began to move, their tracks guiding them deeper into the mansion’s hauntingly cheerful depths. The voice of the Ghost Host continued, narrating a cautionary tale about Littles, who had dared to defy their caregivers. Animatronic Amazons loomed over scenes of Littles crying in oversized cribs or trembling as they were led to time-out corners.

Emily’s grip tightened on the side of the buggy. This wasn’t the Haunted Mansion she’d seen on Earth; this was a carefully curated nightmare designed to reinforce the Amazon ideals of control and compliance.

Lucas must have sensed her discomfort because he reached over, squeezing her hand again. The Ghost Host’s laughter echoed through the dark, wrapping around Emily like a cold, suffocating blanket. His voice dripped with condescension as he spoke his final line: “Beware, dear guests, for the spirits of disobedient Littles will haunt you… always.” The buggy jerked slightly, signaling the end of the ride, but Emily was too focused on the growing warmth spreading through her diaper. Her cheeks burned as she realized she had completely lost control.

The Ghost Host’s voice came again, softer, almost taunting: “Ah, but fear not, my little ones. You are safe… for now.” The words made her shiver as if he somehow knew.

Welby helped Emily and Lucas out of the oversized buggies as the lap bars lifted. Emily kept her gaze low, avoiding eye contact as her damp diaper squished uncomfortably with each step. She felt like every Amazon around her could tell what had happened. Lucas walked beside her, his steps awkward, and she could feel his tension radiating.

Once they were a few steps away from the ride, Lucas leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did you…” He hesitated, glancing around before finishing, “Lose control too?”

Emily’s face grew impossibly hotter. She gave him a small, embarrassed nod. “Yeah,” she admitted, her voice thick with humiliation. “I did.”

Lucas nodded in understanding, his face tinged pink. “Me too,” he confessed quietly. “Guess the Ghost Host got us both.”

Despite herself, Emily let out a weak chuckle, the shared moment of vulnerability easing some tension. Welby and Evelyn walked a few paces behind them, their quiet conversation a comforting murmur in the background.

“You okay?” Lucas asked, his hand brushing against hers as they waddled toward the stroller area. 

Emily gave him a small smile. “Yeah,” she said softly, her blush still lingering. “I’ll be fine.”

As they strolled away from the mansion, Evelyn and Welby seemed to enjoy themselves, exchanging lighthearted jokes about the Ghost Host’s theatrical antics. “He commits to the role,” Evelyn quipped, sipping from her souvenir cup. “Though I could’ve done without the whole ‘badly behaved Littles’ spiel.”

Welby chuckled. “A little over the top, but I suppose they’re sticking to their theme.”

Evelyn turned to the Littles, her expression warm and curious. “How does it compare to the Haunted Mansion back on Earth?”

Emily hesitated, her thumb brushing her lip as she gathered her thoughts. “It’s… similar, in some ways,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “The spooky atmosphere, the ghosts and effects—they’re all there. But back on Earth, it’s more about… hauntings and spirits. The whole ride is about ghosts and death, not… the potty.”

Lucas nodded in agreement, glancing at Evelyn and Welby. “Yeah, the Earth version is creepy in a fun way. It’s all stories about the afterlife, with some playful scares. Nothing like what we just went through.”

Emily’s voice grew more serious, her brow furrowing. “But this version… it feels like it’s trying to drill a message into your head. It’s not just a ride—it’s propaganda. The whole thing pushes the Amazon idea of what Littles should be like. It’s trying to break down any resistance. It’s… unsettling.”

Evelyn’s smile faded, replaced by a look of quiet concern. “That’s… disturbing,” she admitted. “I can’t imagine a ride centered around death, but I see what you mean. It sounds like the Earth version focuses on storytelling, while this one has an agenda.”

Welby nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s not just entertainment here. Everything’s designed to reinforce their control.” He sighed, his gaze shifting to Emily. “I’m sorry it made you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay,” Emily said softly, though her uneasy expression lingered. “It’s just… it feels like there’s no escape from it, even in a place like this.”

Evelyn reached over and gave Lucas’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll watch for anything like that on the other rides,” she promised. “And if you three need a break, just say so.” Seeing the lingering discomfort in their Littles, Evelyn clapped her hands with a warm smile. “Alright, I think we need something a bit more lighthearted. How about Big Thunder Mountain? No heavy storytelling, just a wild ride through the wilderness.”

Welby nodded in agreement, ruffling Hannah’s hair as she snuggled against his chest in her baby carrier. “That sounds perfect.”

The group, hands linked like a chain, began to make their way toward Big Thunder Mountain Railroad's towering red rock structure. The bustling energy of the park lifted their spirits, as did the cheerful chatter of other visitors and the faint sound of a steam whistle, which blended with the playful Western music in the air.

As they joined the queue, Emily took in the intricate theming. Weathered wood, rusty mining tools, and dusty lanterns lined the path, immersing them in the Wild West. Yet, even here, Emily couldn’t ignore the subtle Amazonian twist. Instead of wanted posters for outlaws, there were notices about “Wayward Littles” needing to be returned to their Mommies and Daddies. Diaper ads adorned the saloon walls, and the ride’s mascot, a grinning prospector, held a comically oversized bottle in one hand and a plush bear in the other.

“Do you see it?” she whispered to Lucas, her voice low to avoid drawing attention.

“Yeah,” Lucas replied, glancing around at the not-so-subtle messaging. “It’s everywhere.”

Evelyn, picking up on their hushed conversation, leaned in. “Spotting more of the government’s little… add-ons?” she asked with a raised brow.

Emily nodded. “Even here. They’ve found a way to twist everything.”

Evelyn sighed her expression a mix of frustration and understanding. “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice. They moved steadily through the queue; the ride’s train clattering added to the anticipation. The closer they got, the more excited Hannah became, her little hands clapping against Welby’s chest. Lucas, meanwhile, gave Emily another reassuring squeeze, his excitement tempered by his determination to keep her spirits up.

Finally, they reached the boarding platform, and the rickety train pulled up, steam hissing and bells clanging. Welby helped Emily and Lucas into their seats before securing Hannah beside him, Evelyn on her other side. As the train pulled away, Evelyn leaned over to Emily with a playful grin. “Hold on tight, partner. This here’s the wildest ride in the wilderness!”

The train's whistle echoed sharply as it plunged into the mountain, steam billowing around it. Emily couldn’t help but grin at Evelyn’s playful comment, her initial unease melting into excitement. The clatter of the train on the tracks filled her ears as it climbed the first hill, the chain pulling them higher and higher. Every click of the lift hill seemed to reverberate through her, and anticipation built as the train teetered on the edge.

Then, with a rush of wind, they were off.

The train rocketed through the mountainscape, twisting and turning through narrow tunnels and skimming past jagged outcroppings. Emily squealed as they dove into a sharp drop, her stomach flipping as the momentum carried them into a series of hairpin turns. She felt Lucas’s hand gripping hers tightly, his laughter mixing with the sound of rushing wind and churning wheels.

They reached the second lift hill, the sound of the chain pulling them up again briefly giving her a moment to catch her breath. “This is insane!” she shouted, her voice carried away by the wind as they reached the summit and plunged once more into the twisting labyrinth of red rock. The ride was faster and wilder than she’d expected, with each dive and duck under rock outcroppings sending thrills through her.

By the time they hit the third lift hill, Emily’s adrenaline was at its peak. The train tilted upward, revealing a stunning view of the park sprawled out beneath them. The moment was short-lived, however, as they crested the hill and rocketed into another series of dips and sharp curves. The wind whipped her hair into a frazzled mess. The train rumbled into the final stretch, slowing as it approached the station.

The lap bars lifted with a soft hiss, and Emily gripped Lucas’s hand as they were helped onto the platform. Her heart raced, her breath coming in short bursts as she smoothed her disheveled hair. She glanced at Lucas, who looked equally exhilarated, his cheeks flushed with excitement.

“That was incredible!” Emily exclaimed, her voice still high with adrenaline. Her entire body felt buzzing, and the sheer thrill of the ride entirely replaced her earlier discomfort.

Welby chuckled as he lifted Hannah from her seat, the Little’s giggles infectious. “I’m glad it was fun,” he said, setting her back in the stroller.

Evelyn, her hair slightly windblown, leaned down to Lucas and Emily. “Now that’s how you shake off the Haunted Mansion chills, huh?”

Emily laughed, nodding. “I didn’t expect it to be that exciting!”

Evelyn chuckled at Emily’s visible excitement, reaching over to gently smooth her frazzled hair with her fingers. "Someone’s having a good time," she teased, earning Emily a sheepish grin. Lucas, equally enthused, bounced on his feet, his excitement practically contagious.

“Well,” Evelyn said, glancing down the path, “how about we take this energy to Galaxy’s Edge? I think it’s time we visited a galaxy far away.”

“Absolutely!” Lucas exclaimed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Emily’s eyes lit up at the mention, her childhood love for Star Wars bubbling to the surface. She eagerly nodded her agreement, her heart racing again at the prospect of stepping into one of her favorite worlds.

They turned toward the main path, but their progress was quickly halted by a bustling crowd gathering along the edges of the street. Moments later, vibrant music swelled through the air, and the unmistakable shimmer of a parade appeared on the horizon.

Brightly colored floats glided down the street, adorned with larger-than-life versions of Disney characters Emily had adored growing up. Mickey and Minnie waved atop a castle-themed float, followed by Goofy and Donald on a pirate ship. But as the parade continued, Emily’s smile began to waver. Interspersed between the familiar characters were unsettling elements tailored to the Amazonian world: Littles dressed as Disney characters toddled behind the floats, thick diapers peeking out from under their costumes. A Toy Story float featured a playroom setting with oversized bottles and plushies designed to mimic Little-sized toys. Even the Lion King float had Littles dressed as cubs, wearing padded onesies that emphasized their infantile role.

Emily’s enthusiasm faltered when she spotted a Peter Pan float featuring a group of Littles dressed as the Lost Boys. Each was barefoot and diapered, with their Amazon "caretakers" guiding them like toddlers. The playful, whimsical music and vibrant decorations couldn’t mask the unsettling undertone of the spectacle. She felt her stomach twist, the blatant propaganda tugging at the edges of her excitement.

Sensing her discomfort, Lucas took her hand and squeezed it firmly. She glanced at him, his reassuring smile helping to steady her nerves. She focused on the floats’ familiar elements—the whimsical designs and lively characters she loved—but the shadow of Amazonian control loomed over the experience. As the parade passed and the path cleared, the group began moving again. The excitement dulled slightly but remained present.

As they made their way toward Galaxy’s Edge, the shift in atmosphere was immediate and palpable. The rustic wooden planks and dusty earth of the Wild West gradually gave way to smooth, metallic walkways embedded with faint glowing lines that pulsed like circuitry. The cheerful, jangly tunes of frontier music faded into an otherworldly symphony of electronic hums and distant starship engines, creating an auditory bridge to another galaxy.

The buildings began to change as well. Where there had been saloons and wooden storefronts, now there were sleek, angular structures adorned with alien text and glowing neon signs in unfamiliar languages. Towers jutted into the sky, their metallic surfaces reflecting the soft light of the simulated twin suns above. Pipes and conduits snaked along the walls, occasionally hissing with bursts of steam or sparks of electricity. Market stalls lined the streets, filled with bizarre wares—holo-crystals, droid parts, and strange alien fruits that glowed faintly under the ambient light.

The smell of roasted meat and exotic spices wafted from a nearby vendor, where Amazons and Tweeners sampled skewers of food that sizzled on a futuristic grill. Interspersed among them, Littles toddled about in sci-fi-themed outfits that mirrored the world around them. One group of Littles, dressed as tiny stormtroopers, giggled as their caretaker adjusted their oversized helmets, revealing the unmistakable bulge of thick, white diapers beneath their miniature armor. Another Little, clad in a flight suit reminiscent of an X-Wing pilot, waddled past with a blinking light affixed to their chest, their diaper rustling audibly with each step. Even the droids seemed to acknowledge the Amazonian culture—one astromech whistled and beeped as it handed out holographic flyers promoting a "Littles-Only Starfighter Training Program."

The pathway curved, revealing the breathtaking centerpiece of Galaxy’s Edge: the Millennium Falcon. The iconic freighter loomed large, its intricate details painstakingly replicated, from the weathered panels to the glowing blue engine vents. The ship was surrounded by scaffolding, with mechanics and droids bustling around it as though preparing for its next smuggling run. Emily’s breath caught in her throat at the sight—despite the unsettling elements of the park, the sheer majesty of the Falcon reignited her childhood awe.

Every corner of the land seemed alive with activity. An Amazon in a flowing Jedi robe guided a group of Littles dressed as padawans, their diapers peeking out from beneath their tunics. They practiced simple Force moves, their caretaker praising them with exaggerated enthusiasm. Nearby, a Tweener bounty hunter posed with a Little dressed as a baby Yoda, the Little’s green, floppy ears bouncing as they toddled in place.

Emily couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. The immersion was incredible—she felt like she’d stepped into a Star Wars movie—but the ever-present reminders of the Amazonian control over Littles kept her on edge. Walking beside her, Lucas gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Isn’t it amazing?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine wonder.

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah… it is.”

Welby and Evelyn trailed behind, marveling at the intricate details of the land. “I have to admit,” Evelyn said, “they’ve done an incredible job capturing the essence of the films.”

Welby grinned. “Agreed. Let’s just hope our Littles don’t try to steal the Falcon.”

Emily rolled her eyes at Welby’s comment, though a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She knew he meant it to be lighthearted, a way to ease the tension still in the air, but it couldn’t quite chase away the unease gnawing at her. The sights, sounds, and smells of Galaxy’s Edge were thrilling, yet her mind kept circling back to a nagging thought: how many of her cherished childhood stories had been warped to fit the Amazonian narrative?

She glanced around, taking in the vibrant scene. The bustling marketplace, with its alien trinkets and colorful banners, was a sight straight out of a dream. But every time her eyes landed on a Little dressed as a Jawa or Ewok, their outfits modified to accommodate their thick diapers, the illusion cracked a bit more. Even the holographic advertisements on nearby walls carried subtle but insidious messages, phrases like “A compliant Little is a happy Little!” or “The Force is strongest in well-behaved Littles!”

“Emily?” Lucas’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked over to find him watching her, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

She nodded quickly, squeezing his hand for reassurance. “Yeah, just… processing it all,” she said, her tone as neutral as she could manage. She didn’t want to dampen his excitement, especially when he seemed genuinely happy.

Lucas offered her a sympathetic smile. “It’s a lot, huh? But hey, at least the rides are fun.”

Emily couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, I’ll give them that much.”

They continued walking, the towering spires of Black Spire Outpost looming around them. Welby and Evelyn were engaged in their conversation, their voices low but cheerful, as they pointed out various details of the land. Despite everything, Emily couldn’t deny the artistry and attention to detail—it was stunning, even if the magic was tinged with a darker undertone.

Her thoughts drifted as they passed a Little dressed as R2-D2, toddling after a caretaker dressed as a Rebel pilot. The Little beeped and chirped, mimicking the droid’s sounds, and their caretaker laughed, patting their padded rear affectionately. Emily looked away, her stomach twisting. No matter how much she tried to lose herself in the park's wonder, the ever-present reminders of Amazon's control over Littles were impossible to ignore.

She sighed softly, catching sight of the Falcon again as they approached Smuggler’s Run. Maybe, just maybe, she could enjoy the ride and push her worries aside, if only for a little while. But deep down, she knew the unease wouldn’t leave her—it never really did.

*

Ash scrolled through the logs, her heart pounding as she reviewed the events leading to the boy’s removal. The Nursery Bot’s efficient, almost clinical documentation of the incident sent shivers down her spine:

[11:34 AM] Little Subject #27 exhibits suspicious behavior. Keyword: "Resistance."
[11:38 AM] Flagged for monitoring.
[11:47 AM] Amazon Official notified. The subject was removed for further evaluation.

Ash clenched her fists, the cold, detached nature of the log fueling her frustration and fear. The bot had done its job perfectly—too perfectly—and now a defenseless Little was in the hands of the government. She rubbed her temples, trying to push down the rising panic. The bot’s precision was terrifying. It left no room for error or discretion, operating strictly within the parameters set by the Little Care Act.

Her gaze flicked to the live feed on the screen. Kaylee was in the playroom, dutifully engaging with a set of colorful blocks under the watchful eye of the bot. Every movement, every babble, every glance was recorded. Ash had told Kaylee to be careful, but the sight of her playing so innocently, unaware of the invisible web tightening around her, made Ash’s stomach twist.

Could the bot be recording Ash as well? She hadn’t seen any logs referencing her conversations or actions, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist. The idea that every word and decision might be scrutinized later was suffocating.

Ash pushed the thought aside and leaned back in her chair, exhaling sharply. "I need to figure out how to handle this," she muttered. "Before it’s too late."

Her mind raced with possibilities. She couldn’t simply shut the bot down without raising suspicion, and tampering with its systems was risky. If the authorities suspected anything, they’d descend on her daycare faster than she could blink. But doing nothing felt equally dangerous. Every second the bot remained active was another moment of potential betrayal, another Little at risk.

Kaylee’s laughter rang out from the live feed, drawing Ash’s attention back to the screen. Her heart clenched. She had to protect her—not just Kaylee, but every Little under her care. That meant staying one step ahead of the government and its relentless surveillance, even if it meant walking a razor-thin line between compliance and rebellion.

Ash closed the log, her jaw set in determination. She would find a way to outsmart the system, even if it meant taking risks. Because one thing was certain: she refused to let another Little be taken on her watch.

Ash crossed the playroom, the distant hum of the Nursery Bot’s circuits a constant reminder of the eyes she couldn’t escape. Kaylee saw her coming and lit up, her face alight with the simple joy of a child. She babbled incoherently, the pacifier in her mouth bobbing as she giggled. It tugged at Ash in a way that was hard to describe—a mixture of heartbreak and fury, like a wound that refused to heal.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Ash murmured, scooping the girl into her arms. Kaylee’s diaper squished audibly, the warmth pressing against Ash’s palm. Her nose twitched, and Kaylee only giggled louder as if proud of her state. “You’re a mess, kid,” Ash teased, though the words came out softer than she intended.

Kaylee leaned her head against Ash’s shoulder, thumb back in her mouth, completely unbothered by her predicament. Ash carried her to the nearest changing table, her steps purposeful, though her mind churned like a storm-tossed sea. She laid Kaylee down gently, brushing the girl’s hair out of her face before reaching for the supplies.

As she untaped the diaper, the sight beneath hit Ash like a punch to the gut—not just the mess but what it represented. Every soiled diaper, pacifier, and forced coo or giggle was another thread unraveling the person Kaylee once was. Ash cleaned her carefully and methodically, her hands steady even as her heart twisted in knots.

The programming was insidious. She’d seen it take hold of Kaylee like a parasite, leeching away her autonomy bit by bit. At first, it had seemed reversible—a temporary lapse that could be undone with time. But now? Each time Kaylee returned to herself, the gap was shorter, the baby-like state lingering longer. How much of the real Kaylee was still in there, trapped beneath layers of enforced regression?

The thought made Ash’s hands falter momentarily, her fingers tightening on the fresh diaper. She hated this. Hated the whole system. The Amazons, with their condescending smiles and twisted logic, claiming it was for the Littles’ good. But Ash had seen the truth—the empty, hollow stares, the quiet sobs in the dark when the programming momentarily loosened its grip.

Ash fastened the fresh diaper, her movements brisk but gentle. Kaylee gurgled in delight, reaching to grab Ash’s hair, her tiny fingers tangling in the strands. Ash sighed, prying her free and lifting her back into her arms.

“You don’t deserve this,” Ash whispered, her voice barely audible. Kaylee rested her head against Ash’s chest, oblivious content. The sound of the Nursery Bot’s movements in the background sent a shiver down Ash’s spine. She held Kaylee a little tighter.

Ash paused mid-step, Kaylee’s squirming catching her off guard. The girl’s soft moans made Ash glance down, her brows furrowing in concern. “Kaylee?” she asked softly, her voice cutting through the hum of the playroom.

Kaylee didn’t respond; her eyes half-lidded as she shifted in Ash’s arms, her body wriggling against the firm support of Ash’s hold. And then Ash felt it—a spreading warmth radiating from the diaper pressed against her forearm. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening.

“Oh, Kaylee…” Ash murmured her tone a mix of pity and frustration.

But it didn’t stop there. Kaylee’s moans grew softer, almost dreamlike, as she clung to Ash, her body trembling slightly. Her face flushed with an unnatural glow, her thumb bobbing in rhythm with her breaths. Then, with a gasp that seemed to echo through the small daycare room, Kaylee went limp, her head lolling against Ash’s shoulder. A blissful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

Ash’s grip tightened protectively around the girl, her heart sinking like a stone. She felt the weight of Kaylee’s small, warm body against her, the undeniable evidence of the programming’s grip. The daycare’s cheerful colors and playful sounds felt like a cruel mockery of what was unfolding in her arms. The worst part wasn’t even Kaylee’s reaction—it was the subtle, lingering sense of satisfaction radiating from her. The programming had turned something as basic as wetting a diaper into a moment of euphoric reward, a manipulative tactic that erased yet another piece of Kaylee’s autonomy.

Ash took a deep breath, forcing herself to focus. She adjusted Kaylee in her arms, cradling her close, her jaw tightening as the weight of responsibility settled even heavier on her shoulders. “Hang in there, Kaylee,” Ash whispered, her voice barely audible. “We’ll get you through this. Somehow.”

Kaylee stirred slightly, nuzzling against Ash, her contented expression a bitter reminder of how much had already been taken from her. Ash pressed a soft kiss to Kaylee’s head, steeling herself as she moved to help the other Littles. But the fire inside her burned brighter than ever.