As Emily and Lucas settled into the gently rocking boat of It’s a Small World, the cheerful music began to play, its familiar tune echoing softly around them. The ride had been reimagined for the Amazonian audience, with Littles featured prominently in every scene. Their roles were subtly rewritten to emphasize themes of caregiving and dependency. But Emily and Lucas made an unspoken pact: for this ride, they would ignore the propaganda and simply enjoy the whimsical scenery and each other’s company.

The boat glided forward, surrounded by vibrant, colorful dioramas of various cultures. The animatronic figures danced and sang harmoniously, with cheerful expressions lit by soft, multicolored lights.

“So,” Lucas began, leaning slightly closer to Emily as the boat floated past a group of Littles in traditional Amazonian garb, all bouncing happily in cribs. “What’s your favorite part of the park so far?”

Emily chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “That’s a tough one. It’s been such a mix of magic and unease.” She gave him a wry smile. “But I think I’d have to say Splash Mountain, even if my diaper didn’t survive it.”

Lucas grinned, nodding. “That was a blast. However, I think my favorite might’ve been Big Thunder Mountain. There’s something about the speed and the wind in your face—it feels freeing, you know?”

“I get that,” Emily said, her voice thoughtful. “It’s like for a few moments, you can forget all the weirdness of this world and just… feel alive.”

Lucas looked at her, his expression softening. “Exactly.”

The boat drifted into another scene featuring Littles in space suits, floating and tumbling in zero gravity while Amazons controlled the spaceship from the background. Emily rolled her eyes slightly but couldn’t help but laugh a little as Lucas mimicked one of the dancing animatronics, making her giggle.

“What about back on Earth?” Lucas asked, his tone curious. “What were your favorite things to do there?”

Emily hesitated momentarily, her gaze drifting to the water rippling around the boat. “I used to love hiking,” she said finally. “Getting out into nature, feeling the sun on my face, the wind in my hair… it was my escape.”

Lucas smiled. “I’m more of a city guy, but I get it. There’s something special about finding your breathing space, you know?”

Emily nodded, her eyes meeting his. “Yeah. I think that’s what I miss the most.”

Their conversation flowed easily as the boat journeyed through the various scenes. They talked about favorite foods, childhood memories, and little quirks that made them laugh. For a time, the rewritten narrative of the ride faded into the background, overshadowed by the connection growing between them. When the boat returned to the station, Emily felt lighter. Lucas’s easy smile and genuine curiosity warmed her heart. She hadn’t expected to feel this comfortable with anyone, let alone someone she’d met in such strange circumstances.

As Lucas helped her out of the boat, his hand steadying hers, she glanced at him and smiled. “Thanks for the chat, Lucas. It was… nice.”

He grinned back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Anytime, Emily. I’m glad we got to talk.”

With that, the group left It’s a Small World behind and started toward Toontown, dread clawing at Emily. As they passed under the bridge and into the whimsical chaos of Toontown, the group was met with a vibrant explosion of color and sound. Toontown had always been lively and exaggerated, but here, it seemed to have been reimagined with Littles in mind—and not in a good way. The buildings were still cartoonishly crooked, their bright facades bending and twisting in impossible angles, but now, every window, door, and decoration seemed to carry an underlying message.

Oversized diaper pins adorned the corners of storefronts, and garlands of pacifiers stretched between lampposts like holiday decorations. The fountain in the center of the square had been altered to feature a trio of Littles cheerfully bathing, their laughter echoing over the constant babble of parkgoers. Their outfits—if they could be called that—were absurdly infantile, complete with ruffled bonnets and bibs that read “Cutie” and “Mommy’s Angel.” Even the park’s costumed characters had been modified. Mickey and Minnie stood nearby, each holding the hands of a toddling Littles, their oversized gloves patting the Littles’ heads affectionately as if they were proud parents.

Emily hesitated, glancing at Lucas and Hannah. Their unease was palpable. Toontown had been one of Emily’s favorite parts of Disneyland back on Earth. She loved its playful design and the way it felt like stepping into a cartoon. But here, the land had become a twisted caricature of itself. Instead of celebrating creativity and whimsy, it seemed to revel in infantilization.

The group moved cautiously toward the queue for Mickey & Minnie’s Runaway Railway. Even the attraction’s marquee had been altered. The letters sparkled with glitter, and a cheerful sign beneath read, “Littles’ Magical Day Out!” accompanied by illustrations of Littles clutching plush toys as they toddled behind their Amazon caregivers.

The queue wound through a faux train station, its walls decorated with vintage posters for cartoon shorts, just as on Earth. But here, every poster featured a Little in some humiliating scenario. In one, Mickey tried teaching a crying Little how to walk. In another, Minnie was changing a blushing Little’s diaper while Daisy cooed encouragement. Even Goofy got in, chasing a runaway Little with an oversized baby bottle.

As they moved forward, Lucas broke the silence. “This is… a lot,” he murmured, his hand tightening around Emily’s.

“Yeah,” Emily replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced at Welby and Evelyn, walking just ahead with Hannah in her baby carrier. “I don’t know if I can look at Mickey the same way after this.”

Peking over the edge of her carrier, Hannah let out a small whine. “It’s like they’ve rewritten everything just to make it… theirs. Nothing feels like it used to.”

Welby turned his head slightly, giving her a reassuring smile. “One ride, then we’re out. Promise.”

They reached the loading area, where a cheerful cast member—an Amazon, of course—welcomed them aboard the ride. The cast member’s bright smile didn’t waver as she directed the group into their train cars, but her gaze lingered on Lucas and Emily’s diapers as if checking for any signs of disobedience. Emily felt her cheeks burn, but she stepped into the car, determined to focus on the ride, not the twisted context.

The train cars were vibrant and detailed, like on Earth, and the ride’s premise—a journey through a cartoon world gone haywire—remained intact. But as the train pulled away from the station and plunged into the animated chaos, it became clear that even this ride wasn’t immune to the park’s heavy-handed messaging. In one scene, Mickey and Minnie rescued a Little who had “gotten lost” because they’d tried to be independent. In another, Goofy stumbled into a nursery where Littles giggled and cheered as robotic arms swaddled them.

Emily clenched her fists as the ride continued, her gaze darting between the screen projections and the animatronics. The vibrant colors and catchy music couldn’t disguise the underlying narrative: Littles needed to be cared for, protected, and controlled. It was insidious, layered beneath the ride’s charm like a poison hidden in candy.

When the train finally rolled back into the station, Emily released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. As they disembarked, she caught Lucas’s eye. His jaw was tight, his expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Neither of them said a word, but their shared look spoke volumes.

As they stepped back into the overwhelming brightness of Toontown, Evelyn turned to them, her expression a mixture of concern and apology. “I think that’s enough Toontown for one day,” she said gently.

The group nodded in unison, and with Welby leading the way, they headed back toward the relative safety of the main park. Emily glanced over her shoulder one last time, the cheerful chaos of Toontown fading behind them like a bad memory.

The group returned to the park's heart, the cheerful chatter of visitors and the faint melodies of a marching band filling the air as they strolled toward the riverside. The gentle puff of steam and the low, melodic whistle of the Mark Twain Riverboat signaled their destination. Its elegant white frame and vibrant red trim shimmered in the golden glow of the setting sun, a peaceful respite after the chaos of Toontown.

Welby and Evelyn took charge, ensuring the Littles were securely onboard. Hannah was still nestled in her baby carrier, contentedly sucking on her pacifier, while Emily and Lucas walked ahead, their hands brushing occasionally as they climbed the gangplank. The group found a cozy spot on the upper deck near the railings, the perfect vantage point for the serene journey ahead.

As the boat began to move, its paddlewheel churning white foam in the water, Emily and Lucas settled into a quiet corner. Their voices were low but warm. Emily leaned against the railing, her fingers lightly tracing the wood, her other hand holding Lucas’s.

“You seemed pretty quiet on that last ride,” Lucas said, breaking the silence. His tone was gentle, curious rather than pressing.

Emily shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Just… processing, I guess. It’s so strange seeing everything I loved as a kid turned into this.”

Lucas nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I get that. It’s like they’ve twisted something purely to fit their narrative.”

Emily glanced at him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. “That’s… exactly how I feel. I knew this world would be different, but I didn’t expect it to be so pervasive.”

Lucas squeezed her hand, his touch grounding her. “At least we’re in it together.”

She smiled, her cheeks warming slightly. “Yeah. We are.”

Not far away, Welby and Evelyn stood by the railing, their conversation flowing easily as they sipped on refreshing mint juleps they’d brought aboard. Evelyn leaned on the railing, her eyes scanning the water as the boat glided past the dense greenery of the Rivers of America.

“It’s nice to just… breathe for a moment,” Evelyn said, her voice soft but carrying a note of gratitude. “I feel like this trip has been one thing after another.”

Welby chuckled, nodding. “Yeah, it’s been a whirlwind. But seeing the kids happy—it’s worth it.”

Evelyn glanced at him, her expression thoughtful. “You’re good at this, you know. With Hannah and Emily. They’re lucky to have you.”

Welby’s smile softened. “I don’t know about that. I’m just doing my best.”

“And your best is pretty great,” Evelyn said firmly, her words laced with sincerity.

Welby chuckled, glancing over at the Littles. Lucas and Emily were deep in conversation, their laughter mingling with the gentle hum of the boat’s engine. Hannah, meanwhile, had dozed off in her carrier, her tiny hands clutching the edge of her blanket.

“Looks like they’re finding their way too,” Welby said, gesturing toward Emily and Lucas.

Evelyn followed his gaze, her lips curling into a smile. “Young love,” she teased. “You should be prepared for some sleepless nights once that starts.”

Welby groaned playfully. “Don’t remind me. I’ve got enough on my plate.”

Evelyn laughed a genuine sound that made Welby’s heart feel slightly lighter.

As the boat rounded a bend, the golden hues of the sunset painted the water in shimmering shades of amber and crimson. The peaceful rhythm of the riverboat, the quiet conversations, and the children's children's laughter made it a moment worth savoring—a brief escape from the world beyond the park gates.

As the riverboat glided gently through the winding waterways, Emily and Lucas leaned against the railing. The quiet splash of the paddlewheel and the soft hum of the park around them provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation. The warm glow of the setting sun painted their faces as they glanced at each other, the weight of unspoken thoughts hanging between them.

“So,” Lucas began, his voice tentative but curious, “when this is all over… what do you want to do? I mean, where do you see yourself?”

Emily blinked, caught off guard by the question. She looked out over the water, her hands gripping the railing. “I’m… not sure,” she admitted after a moment. “I used to think I had my life figured out, you know? I wanted a career independence. To be in control of my future. But now?” She exhaled, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I don’t know if that’s even possible anymore.”

Lucas nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. Back home, I wanted to do something meaningful that made a difference. I thought coming here would be an adventure, a chance to experience a different world and learn. But now… everything feels so twisted.”

Emily turned to him, her brow furrowing. “Do you regret it? Coming here?”

Lucas hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “I miss the freedom, the sense of agency I had back home. But… I don’t regret meeting you. Or Evelyn. If I hadn’t come here, I wouldn’t have them. And I guess… that makes it worth it.”

Emily’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she glanced down, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I feel the same,” she said softly. “As much as I hate everything about this place, I’m grateful for the people I’ve met.”

They stood silently for a moment, the gentle rhythm of the boat filling the space between them.

“Do you think you’d ever go back?” Emily asked finally, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Lucas leaned against the railing, his gaze distant. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Part of me wants to. But part of me wonders if there’s a way to improve this place. To help Littles like us who don’t have anyone looking out for them.”

Emily tilted her head, studying him. “You think that’s possible?”

Lucas shrugged, a faint smile crossing his face. “I don’t know. But maybe it’s worth trying. What about you? Do you want to go back?”

Emily looked out at the water, her reflection shimmering in the ripples. “I used to think I did,” she said slowly. “But now… I’m not so sure. Back home, everything felt so… empty. Even with all the challenges, I feel like I have a purpose. Like I matter to someone.”

Lucas reached over, his hand brushing hers. “You do matter, Emily. To a lot of people.”

The uncertainty and fear gnawing at her when her eyes met him seemed to fade. In its place was something softer, something steady. A quiet understanding passed between them, unspoken but deeply felt.

“Maybe we don’t have to have all the answers right now,” Lucas said, his voice gentle. “Maybe it’s okay to just… figure it out as we go.”

Emily nodded, a small smile breaking through the lingering sadness in her eyes. “Yeah. Maybe it is.”

The boat rounded a bend, and the last rays of sunlight painted the sky in hues of pink and orange. For the first time in a long while, Emily felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that even amid uncertainty, there was still room for connection, possibility, and something better.

*

Kaylee lay sprawled across the couch, her head resting against Ash’s shoulder as the flickering light of the TV bathed the room in soft, muted colors. Her legs shifted slightly, the crinkle of her diaper faintly audible. She winced as the movement pressed the warm, messy contents of her diaper against her skin, sending an unwelcome tingle of pleasure coursing through her. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. She stilled herself, forcing her body to remain as motionless as possible, dreading the sensations that even the smallest movements brought.

Ash’s arm rested protectively around her, her other hand holding a book she wasn’t reading. Kaylee could feel the tension in Ash’s frame—the way her fingers tapped absently against the couch, the occasional sigh that escaped her lips. Ash was there, present, but her mind was elsewhere. Kaylee was probably thinking about the daycare or maybe even about her.

Kaylee’s mind was a storm, the programming’s grasp on her thoughts ebbing and flowing like a relentless tide. Moments of clarity like this one were a rare gift—and a painful reminder of everything she was losing. She closed her eyes, her thumb slipping into her mouth almost instinctively. She bit down gently, willing the action to stop, but her body ignored her. It wasn’t about comfort anymore; it was reflex, muscle memory carved into her by the cruel programming.

How had it come to this? Just weeks ago, she had been sharp, driven, and determined. She had plans, ideas, and ambitions. And now? She was fighting to hold on to the smallest scraps of her identity. Each day, it felt like another piece of herself was chipped away, replaced by the giggling, babbling caricature the programming demanded she become.

She remembered earlier that day—the forced smiles, the humiliating baby talk, the moments when her voice betrayed her, spewing nonsense and giggles she didn’t mean. The worst part wasn’t even the loss of control; some part of her, buried deep and reluctant, had started to find comfort in it like her body was rewiring to enjoy this, to crave simplicity, helplessness, and dependency.

The thought made her stomach turn, though that could’ve also been the gurgling reminder of what her body had done earlier without her consent. She hated how the programming preyed on her, twisting natural bodily functions into humiliating spectacles of forced pleasure. She hated even more how effective it was.

Kaylee glanced up at Ash, who had once been her friend. Ash had every reason to hate her after the betrayal, but instead, Ash had taken on the impossible burden of protecting her. Ash was stuck, too, forced to play along, to navigate a world where they both had so little agency.

“Are you okay?” Ash’s low, gentle voice broke the silence. Glancing down at Kaylee, her eyes softened with concern.

Kaylee nodded, though the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes threatened to betray her. “I’m fine,” she murmured around her thumb, the words muffled but understandable.

Ash reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Kaylee’s face. “If you need to talk… I’m here.”

Kaylee shifted uncomfortably on the couch, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and frustration as her soiled diaper squished beneath her with every slight movement. Each shift sent an unwelcome jolt of tingling pleasure through her, a constant, humiliating reminder of how deeply the programming had infiltrated her body and mind. She gritted her teeth, doing her best to remain still, but her thoughts churned with the same helplessness she felt in her physical state.

Ash was beside her, scrolling through something on her tablet, her presence a quiet comfort even if Kaylee couldn’t bring herself to meet her eyes. After a long pause, Kaylee took a deep breath, her voice hesitant, barely above a whisper. “Ash… I’ve been thinking a lot about… everything.”

Ash glanced at her, concern flickering in her gaze. “Yeah? What’s on your mind?” Her tone was gentle, an open invitation, but it only tightened the knot in Kaylee’s chest.

“I know how it looks,” Kaylee began, forcing herself to keep speaking despite the shame building inside her. “Like I’m just… carefree and happy like none of this bothers me. But it’s the furthest thing from the truth. I hate it, Ash. I hate every second of it.” Her voice cracked, and she clenched her fists to steady herself. “I feel like… like I’ve lost everything that made me me.”

Ash set the tablet aside, giving Kaylee her full attention. “Kaylee…” she started, but Kaylee cut her off, shaking her head.

“No, let me finish,” Kaylee said, her tone tinged with desperation. “I don’t even trust myself anymore. And it’s not just because of the programming. It’s because of what I did to you. I violated your trust, Ash. I betrayed you and don’t know how to fix that.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her thumb hovering near her mouth before she clenched her hand into a fist to stop the reflex.

Ash’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt, sensing that Kaylee needed to get it all out.

“I feel like… I don’t deserve your compassion,” Kaylee admitted, her voice barely audible. “And when—if—I get back to my own body, I’m going to be terrified. I'm terrified that I’ll mess up again, do something equally stupid, and ruin… everything. I’m stuck on these eggshells, waiting to crack them and destroy what little trust we’ve managed to rebuild.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the faint hum of the heater in the corner. Kaylee’s breathing was shaky, her heart pounding as she waited for Ash’s response.

Ash leaned back, her expression unreadable, and then she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Kaylee,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of emotion, “trust isn’t something that’s rebuilt overnight. I won’t pretend everything’s fine between us, but… I also don’t hate you. I can see that you’re trying and that matters.”

Kaylee’s gaze flicked to Ash, a faint flicker of hope in her eyes. “I just… I don’t know how to make it better.”

“Start by being honest, like you were,” Ash said, reassuringly smiling. “We’re both navigating a lot right now and yeah, it’s messy. But I don’t think you’re beyond redemption, Kaylee. Not even close.”

Kaylee’s breath hitched, a tear sliding down her cheek. “I want to fix this. I do.”

“And you will,” Ash said firmly. “One step at a time.”

The warm touch of Ash’s fingers rubbing slow circles on her back was both comforting and guilt-inducing. Kaylee tried to focus on the rhythm of Ash’s movements, her mind drifting as she did her best to remain still.  

Ash’s voice cut softly through the silence, more to herself than Kaylee, her tone laden with frustration and despair. “I hate it,” she whispered, her words laced with venom. “I hate all of it. The programming, the damn cartoons. Every single thing that turns people into… this.”

Kaylee’s breath hitched. The raw anger in Ash’s voice wasn’t directed at her, but it still cut deep. She could feel the conflict in Ash’s touch, the tension beneath the gentle movements of her hand.

Ash continued, her voice breaking slightly. “Every time I see it happen… Whenever I press play on that stupid show and watch their eyes dull, I feel like I’m losing a part of myself. I’m no better than the people I despise. And you…” Her hand stilled on Kaylee’s back. “I can’t stand watching it happen to you. No one deserves this.”

Kaylee turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting Ash’s. There was no malice in Ash’s expression, only a deep, aching sorrow. Kaylee’s lips parted to speak, but no words came. What could she say? That she was sorry? That she hadn’t meant for this to happen? None of it would change the reality they were trapped in.

Ash let out a shaky breath, her fingers resuming their gentle motions. “I know what it’s like,” she said softly. “To lose control. To be stripped down to nothing. It’s the worst feeling in the world, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Not even the person who betrayed me.”

The words hit Kaylee like a blow. She closed her eyes, the tears she’d held back slipping free. “Ash…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

Ash’s hand moved to her hair, smoothing it with a tenderness that only made the guilt heavier. “I know,” Ash replied, her voice quiet but steady. “But right now, we don’t have time for sorry. Right now, we survive.”

Kaylee nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. The weight of her diaper pressed against her, a physical reminder of the battle she was losing. But in the warmth of Ash’s embrace, she allowed herself to hope for a brief moment. If Ash could still see her as more than the programming, maybe—just maybe—there was still something left to save.