The night air was cool, wrapping around Hannah like a soft embrace as the stroller rolled steadily along the winding path back to the hotel. The park's sounds were distant now, muted by exhaustion and the gentle hum of the world settling down. The rhythmic click of the stroller wheels over the pavement was hypnotic, lulling her deeper into the heavy pull of sleep.

Her pacifier bobbed slowly in her mouth. The steady suckling motion was second nature now, each little pull grounding her further into the cocoon of warmth and safety surrounding her. Her eyelids drooped, heavy with exhaustion. The glow of distant lights blurred into soft halos as her body sank deeper into the plush embrace of the stroller’s padding.

Beside her, Emily had finally run out of steam. The boundless energy that had carried her through the day had flickered out, leaving her slumped gently against the side of the stroller. Her chest rose and fell in slow, peaceful breaths. Her auburn hair was slightly tousled from the wind. Her lips parted slightly as she dozed, and her small hands rested limply in her lap.

They had parted ways with Lucas and Evelyn a short while ago, saying their quiet goodnights before heading off to separate hotel wings. That had been a surprise—discovering that they were staying in the same place—but it had been nice. Something about it made Hannah feel… reassured. Like even when they were apart, they weren’t that far away.

Hannah yawned, her pacifier slipping slightly from her lips before she reflexively suckled it back into place.

A warm hand brushed against her bonnet, and she felt the steady weight of Daddy’s presence as he walked beside the stroller, his voice soft and soothing.

“Almost back to the room, sweetheart,” Welby murmured, his voice rich with affection. “I’ll get you both ready for bed and then you can sleep, okay?”

Hannah hummed in response, barely able to muster more than a sleepy nod.

Welby chuckled, his hand trailing gently over her shoulder before tucking the blanket more securely around her. “You don’t have to wait, baby girl,” he added, his voice dipping even softer. “You can fall asleep whenever you want. Daddy’s always here to watch over you.”

The words settled deep in her chest, wrapping around her like the blanket he had tucked around her small frame. Safe. Protected and cared for.

Hannah’s lashes fluttered one last time before slipping shut, the steady lull of the stroller and the warmth of Daddy’s words carrying her into sleep before they even reached the room.

Hannah stirred slightly, pulled from the soft embrace of sleep by the faint crinkle of her diaper and the gentle motion of her legs being guided toward her tummy. Her bleary eyes fluttered open, hazy with exhaustion, and the first thing she saw was Daddy.

Welby’s warm, familiar face hovered above her, bathed in the soft glow of the hotel room’s ambient lighting. His expression was tender, and his hands were steady and gentle as he worked, untapping the wet diaper from around her waist with practiced ease. The cool air against her skin sent a brief shiver through her, but it was gone in an instant as Daddy worked swiftly, the scent of baby powder filling the space between them.

When she met his eyes, he smiled at her, soft and reassuringly. His large hand cradled her tummy for a moment before he leaned in, pressing a warm, feather-light kiss to her forehead.

“Shh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice thick with love and quiet amusement. “Go back to sleep. Daddy’s got you.”

Hannah blinked sleepily, her pacifier bobbing as she suckled slowly, her mind drifting further into the lull of exhaustion. She didn’t need further suggestions. The safety, the warmth, the steady presence of Daddy’s hands made it impossible to resist. Her eyelids drooped again, and before she could fully register the fresh diaper being taped snugly around her hips, she had already sunk back into the depths of sleep.

Morning arrived as sunlight streamed through the hotel windows, filling the room with a soft golden glow. The warmth kissed Hannah’s skin, filtering through the crib bars in delicate patterns that stretched across the mattress.

She shifted slightly, the familiar crinkle beneath her reminding her of where she was, of what she was. The fresh diaper, now wet and squishy, wrapped snugly around her waist. The cool morning air brushed against her bare skin, free from the restraints of her usual clothes. She wasn’t alone, though.

Beside her, Emily lay nestled in the soft blankets, dressed the same as Hannah—only in her diaper. Her auburn hair fanned out slightly against the mattress, and her body curled somewhat in the depths of sleep. Her soft breathing was rhythmic and peaceful, and her small frame rose and fell steadily beneath the morning light.

The hotel room was quiet, still heavy with the warmth of sleep. It felt safe. Like a moment preserved in time, untouched by the world outside. Hannah stretched slightly, the gentle rustling of her diaper barely audible in the quiet.

She could hear Daddy moving somewhere nearby, but she didn’t have to look. She knew he was there. He always was.

Hannah stirred only slightly as Emily’s arm draped over her, pulling her close to sleep. The warmth of her sister’s embrace was a quiet comfort, one Hannah had grown used to. She snuggled in deeper, pressing her face against the soft skin of Emily’s shoulder. Emily's steady rise and fall in breathing was soothing, lulling Hannah back toward the edges of sleep, safe and content.

She relaxed completely, letting herself melt into the moment, her body soft in the cocoon of warmth. The damp, clammy bulk of her overnight diaper clung to her, cold in places, the thick padding swollen between her legs. It was a familiar sensation—uncomfortable at first but one she had long since stopped noticing.

A warmth bloomed inside her, slow and steady, rewarming her soaked diaper as her bladder emptied freely into the already-saturated padding. She sighed softly, barely even aware of what she had done, of what she was doing. It wasn’t something she needed to think about anymore. It was just normal.

She squirmed slightly, shifting against Emily’s embrace as the warmth spread. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips. Sleep tugged at her again, drawing her back down into that in-between space where everything was smooth and dreamlike.

But then, stirring.

A quiet rustle of movement. The soft creak of the crib mattress shifts under new weight. Then, Daddy’s voice was warm and full of amusement.

“There’s my sleepy girl.”

Hannah barely had time to process before strong, steady hands lifted her from the crib, the motion effortless as she was pulled from the blankets and into Daddy’s arms. She let out a soft whimper of protest, her body still heavy with sleep, but Daddy only chuckled, settling her onto the hotel bed with practiced ease.

“Someone’s all snuggly this morning,” he teased, his hands moving gently as he untaped her swollen diaper, peeling back the heavy, soggy padding. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?”

Hannah blinked groggily at him, her pacifier still bobbing lazily between her lips. The memories of yesterday flickered through her mind—the lights, the fireworks, the feeling of being held, safe, and loved.

A small, sleepy smile tugged at her lips.

“Like a baby,” she mumbled around her pacifier.

Daddy laughed, a rich, warm sound that made Hannah’s chest flutter. “Well, you are a baby, aren’t you?” he teased, tapping her nose affectionately. “And Daddy’s baby had such a big day yesterday. Of course, she slept like one.”

Hannah giggled softly, still groggy but enjoying the attention. The warmth of his voice seeped into her like sunshine.

He continued to playfully tease her as he worked, making silly faces, lightly tickling her tummy, and wiggling her toes as he cleaned her up and slid a fresh diaper under her. The moment was light, easy, full of that quiet morning intimacy that made her feel so small and utterly his.

Daddy leaned down and kissed her forehead as the fresh diaper was taped snugly around her.

“Let’s get you both dressed,” he murmured, touching her hair affectionately. “Then we’ll see what today has in store for my little girls.”

Hannah let out a soft, content sigh.

Emily settled back into the bed next to Hannah, her fresh diaper crinkling softly as she rubbed at her sleepy eyes, still blinking away the last remnants of exhaustion. She yawned, stretching her arms before settling beside Hannah, her warm presence comforting. The quiet morning air was peaceful, but that peace was short-lived.

Daddy checked his phone, his expression shifting as his brows furrowed into a deepening frown. His fingers hovered over the screen for a moment, scrolling, reading. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Emily noticed it, too. She always did.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice gentle but wary.

Daddy sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with its weight. He hesitated, clearly not wanting to say it aloud, but he wouldn’t lie to them either. His thumb hovered over the screen a moment longer before he locked his phone, slipping it away as if that would somehow make it less real.

“Miranda,” he said simply, the name alone enough to send a cold shiver through both girls.

Hannah and Emily stiffened simultaneously, their eyes snapping to each other in mutual understanding. Dread coiled in Hannah’s stomach like a vice. Miranda. Of course, it was her. It was always her.

Daddy sat forward slightly, reaching for the TV remote on the nightstand, but he didn’t turn it on. He held it, fingers drumming against the plastic as if debating something internally. Then, finally, he spoke.

“She’s ordering me to play another episode of Naomi and Oliver for you two.”

The words landed like a stone in the pit of Hannah’s stomach. Emily’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening against the bedspread, and when their gazes met again, there was no mistaking the fear in each other’s eyes.

No. No, no, no.

Not this again.

Hannah’s mouth went dry, and her pacifier suddenly felt like lead between her lips.

She hated those episodes, despised them. The syrupy-sweet conditioning wormed into their heads, trying to reshape them into something smaller, more obedient, and more compliant.

Neither of them wanted this. Neither wanted to sit there and be force-fed whatever new nightmare Miranda had cooked up for them.

But… what choice did they have?

If they said no, Daddy would almost certainly listen. That was the worst part—he cared about what they wanted. He would protect them if they asked him to.

But Miranda would know.

Miranda would find out.

And then she would come down on them like a hammer.

Hannah felt trapped. Her body locked up as her mind raced through possibilities, searching desperately for an escape that didn’t exist. They couldn’t go back home yet. They didn’t have a plan or way out of this world and were stuck.

Hannah curled her fingers into fists against the blankets. She could already hear the opening jingle of the show in her mind and picture Naomi's sickly sweet smile as she coddled Hannah into submission.

She could feel that subtle pull—how the show tried to sink into them, rewire them, and make them stop questioning and resisting.

Emily swallowed hard beside her, her expression caught between defiance and helplessness. Hannah could tell she was thinking the same thing. They couldn’t fight back. Not yet. Not without consequences.

Daddy exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable as he glanced between them. He still hadn’t turned the TV on. He was giving them time. Time to process, time to speak.

But what could they say?

Hannah stared at the remote, her heart hammering in her chest.

Hannah locked eyes with Emily, the silent understanding between them heavy, suffocating. There was no winning here. No way out. Not yet.

Emily was the first to move. A small, reluctant nod, barely perceptible, but Hannah mirrored it anyway, her stomach twisting.

“Do it,” Emily said, her voice flat, resigned, tired. “Just… get it over with.”

Daddy hesitated. His fingers curled around the remote, his expression drawn tight with conflict. He didn’t want to do this. Hannah could see it in his face, how his eyes flickered to her and Emily, waiting, hoping, for another answer. But there wasn’t one.

He sighed. The softest exhale. Then, with clear reluctance, he pressed power.

The screen flickered to life.

And immediately, Hannah felt it.

The room was filled with bright, cheerful colors, and the bouncy, saccharine melody that had become so familiar wound its way through the air. It was lighthearted, sweet, and fun.

A lie.

Her pulse quickened as the images danced before her. The cartoon world wrapped its arms around her, lulling her like a gentle tide pulling her toward deeper waters.

And then—they appeared.

Naomi and Oliver.

They were bright, smiling, and welcoming. Their eyes sparkled with warmth and unnatural joy. They waved, bouncing slightly as if they were so excited to see them.

“Hannah! Emily!” Naomi’s voice chirped, sweet as honey.

“Welcome back!” Oliver added, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “We missed you so much!”

Naomi giggled, clasping her hands together. “Oh, we were just so worried we wouldn’t get to see you again! But here you are! Our special girls!”

The warmth in their voices was suffocating. Overpowering.

Hannah couldn’t look away.

Naomi tilted her head, her big, expressive eyes filled with adoration. “We hope you’re happy to see us, too! You are happy, aren’t you?”

Oliver nodded enthusiastically. “Of course they are! We’re all best friends, after all! And best friends show each other how much they love each other, right Hannah? Show us how much you love us!”

The moment Oliver said it, Hannah felt something shift inside her.

Before she could even process what was happening, before she could even think, her body was moving on its own.

Her legs bent, her hips lifted off the bed, just slightly, but enough.

And then—

Heat. Softness. Movement.

She felt herself filling her diaper.

The warm mush pressed against her, spreading easily into the space beneath her, squishing and shifting as it settled into the thick padding. It was automatic, unthinking, something that felt as natural as breathing.

Hannah let out a soft whimper, her entire body going hot as the realization sank in.

She hadn’t meant to.

I hadn’t wanted to.

I hadn’t even decided to.

Her breath hitched, her hands trembling as she realized how easily it had happened.

She had been conditioned.

Emily sat beside her, stiff as a board. Her fingers dug into the sheets as she stared blankly at the screen, her face pale and tense.

Hannah’s heart pounded in her ears. The cartoon voices swirled around her, their words blending into something sweet, comforting, and inescapable.

She had no control.

Hannah’s entire body froze, her breath catching in her throat as the warm weight in her diaper settled beneath her. The realization burned through her, shame flooding her veins like molten heat. It had happened so easily.

Without thinking.

Without choosing.

And then, Naomi’s voice cooed through the speakers, wrapping around Hannah like a soft, suffocating embrace.

“Oh, Hannah, sweetheart… what a good girl you are!” Naomi purred, her voice slow, sultry, honey-sweet in a way that sent chills down Hannah’s spine.

“Such a perfect little baby… letting go so easily, so naturally.” A soft giggle. “See? Isn’t it better when you don’t even think about it? When you just… listen?”

Hannah shuddered, her fingers gripping the sheets beneath her. Her pacifier bobbled between her lips faster now, the motion subconscious and comfort-seeking.

She wanted to turn it off.

She wanted to run.

But she couldn’t look away.

And then…

A sound.

A muffled, breathy moan.

Hannah’s eyes snapped to her side, her stomach lurching as she realized Emily was moving.

No—she wasn’t just moving.

She was grinding.

Hannah gasped, her pulse spiking in alarm.

Emily was rocking against something, her legs spread slightly, her hips rolling in slow, rhythmic motions.

And beneath her…

A stuffed animal.

Hannah’s blood ran cold.

Where had that come from?

Emily hadn’t had that before.

She had just been sitting there, stiff and tense like Hannah.

But now… now she was moving, pressing, her breath hitching with soft, needy sounds that made Hannah’s cheeks burn with mortified horror.

What was happening?!

Emily’s face was flushed, her eyes glazed, her bottom lip trembling as another quiet whimper slipped free.

She wasn’t aware.

She wasn’t in control.

She was reacting.

Like Hannah had.

Like it was automatic.

Naomi’s syrupy voice crooned from the screen, dripping with amusement, with something deeper, something darker.

“There you go, sweetheart… don’t fight it. Littles don’t fight, remember?”

A soft, knowing giggle.

Hannah’s world blurred, the edges of reality softening, her thoughts fading like ink dissolving in water.

Emily’s gasps barely registered, the hitching, breathy sounds growing in intensity, then peaking in a single, shuddering moan as she orgasmed into her messy diaper. Hannah should have been horrified and felt sick, but the concern, shame, and fear disappeared.

She wasn’t thinking anymore.

She wasn’t processing.

She was just listening.

Listening to Naomi.

The cartoon’s pulsed, bright, warm, inviting, and swirling colors made it hard to look away or think.

“There you go, Hannah, sweetheart…” Naomi’s voice lulled, slow and silky, each syllable sinking deeper into Hannah’s mind. “Such a good girl. Let Naomi take care of you. Let Naomi help you.”

Hannah’s breath slowed, her body relaxed, and her mind opened like a book with empty pages.

And Naomi, with delicate, loving hands, was more than happy to write.

Then—nothing.

A blank spot in her memory, a vast, gaping void.

No sense of time, no awareness of what had happened, no recollection of what had been poured into her open, waiting mind.

Nothing.

And then—

Soft. Warm. Familiar.

Hannah blinked.

She lay down, her limbs loose and heavy. A familiar crinkle filled the air as something snug and fresh was pulled around her waist.

Her diaper.

She stirred, the cool air of the hotel room brushing against her skin. Daddy’s hands worked swiftly to secure the tapes, ensuring she was clean, powdered, and fresh.

Her head swam, still hazy, still unfocused.

She barely had time to process before she felt eyes on her.

She blinked again, her vision clearing just enough to meet Daddy’s gaze.

His worried expression.

He watched her closely, his brows knit together, his hands gentle but his eyes tight with something else.

Concern.

Something had happened.

Something she didn’t remember.

Her stomach twisted.

But she didn’t ask.

She couldn’t.

Because deep inside her still-fogged mind, something told her…

She didn’t want to know.

Hannah groaned softly, rubbing her eyes, trying to shake away the heavy fog in her mind. Everything felt slow and sluggish like she was wading through molasses, struggling to grasp something solid.

“Sweetheart,” Daddy’s voice came gentle, warm, but laced with concern. “How do you feel?”

The words drifted toward her, but… they didn’t fully land.

Hannah blinked. It took her a long moment to register the words and recognize that they were words. Then, another moment, she needed to understand their meaning.

Why was it so hard to think?

The question slipped through her fingers before she could fully hold onto it.

She opened her mouth to respond—

But the words came out in garbled, babbled nonsense.

Her face burned.

She tried again, forcing herself to speak slower and be careful. But—

The same thing happened.

More nonsense. More baby talk.

Hannah’s stomach clenched with panic.

She could still think. She could still understand Daddy’s words. But her mouth and brain weren’t connected when she tried to answer.

She whimpered, her panic growing, her tummy twisting—

And then, it grumbled loudly, hunger gnawing at her.

Daddy grimaced, something in his eyes breaking as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh, sweetheart… I’m sorry.”

Before Hannah could even try to babble another question, his arms were around her, pulling her into a tight, warm hug.

“I’ll do what I can to help,” he murmured against her hair, his voice soft but thick with something that sounded a lot like guilt.

And then, before she could even process it, she was in his arms, being carried, a bottle in his hand.

He was talking to her, saying something, but…

It was slipping away before she could catch it.

Then—

The bottle’s nipple pressed to her lips.

And she nursed. Instinctively. Automatically.

And—

Choked.

The taste was wrong.

It was sickly sweet but foul.

Like medicine wrapped in sugar.

Her stomach lurched as she gagged, her whole body reacting violently, pushing against Daddy’s chest in disgust.

He pulled the bottle away immediately, cursing under his breath, his hold tightening protectively around her.

“I was worried about that,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Hannah gasped, panting slightly as she tried to force away the lingering aftertaste that coated her tongue, her mind reeling.

She tried to ask him what it was and force words out, but nothing came out except babbles.

Still, something in her tone must have reached him because Daddy hesitated, eyes flicking to the bottle in his hand before looking back down at her.

“It’s just formula, sweetheart,” he said carefully. “The same stuff you’ve been drinking.”

But Hannah wasn’t stupid.

She saw how his eyes flickered and how his grip on the bottle tightened slightly.

Her heart pounded.

Had it been—

Naomi and Oliver?

Had they—

Had they twisted her taste buds?

Had they changed something inside her?

What would she do?

How could she fight back when she didn’t know what they’d done to her?

Her mind froze in fear, spiraling, trying to grasp onto something solid—

But all she had was the aftertaste of something wrong on her tongue.

Hannah’s heart pounded in her chest, the wrongness twisting deeper every second.

She could still think.

She could still understand.

But her own words wouldn’t come.

Her tongue betrayed her, her mouth only forming helpless babbles.

And there—behind Daddy—

Emily.

Her sister, her anchor.

Her face was twisted with concern, her eyes wide, and her lips pressed together like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Daddy was still speaking—saying something about making a call.

A call? To who?

Then—

A new presence.

Evelyn.

Hannah blinked in surprise, her sluggish mind struggling to piece things together.

Why was she here?

Her thoughts scrambled as she tried to make sense of it, but it was like trying to hold onto sand, the details slipped away as soon as she grabbed them.

She tried to ask.

I tried to form the words.

Nothing.

It's just soft, useless babbling.

And then—

Warm hands.

Strong but gentle.

Lifting her.

Daddy was passing her to Evelyn.

Hannah whimpered, confused and frightened, but Evelyn held her close, sinking into a chair cradling her.

Hannah felt the steady rise and fall of her chest, the way she held her securely, protectively.

And then—

She saw them.

Tears.

In Evelyn’s eyes.

Hannah’s breath caught.

What was happening?

She could feel Evelyn’s arms tighten around her, her touch soothing but trembling ever so slightly.

She was speaking, saying something, her voice thick with something Hannah couldn’t name.

But the words wouldn’t stick.

They slipped past her, just like Daddy’s had.

She knew Evelyn was sad. She could feel it.

It sat in her chest like a weight, radiating from her heartbeat.

But Hannah didn’t know why.

She didn’t know what was happening.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t speak.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t understand.

She just knew—

Something was wrong.

Hannah barely had time to process what was happening before she felt Evelyn shift, her arms adjusting, repositioning Hannah’s small body with the kind of practiced ease that sent a shiver through her.

Then—

The straps of Evelyn’s shirt slipped down.

Hannah’s sluggish, clouded mind barely registered it before something warm and soft pressed against her lips—

Evelyn’s nipple brushed against her lips, and before she could even think, before she could question, her lips parted, and she latched on instinctively.

The moment the liquid touched her tongue, everything else melted away.

It was warm. Sweet. Perfect.

Delicious.

The flavor consumed her, flooding her senses and making her body feel hot, needy, and desperate for more.

Her eyelids fluttered.

A soft whimper escaped her.

It was so good.

Better than anything she had ever tasted.

It was as if her core ached for it, like some deep, primal part had always been waiting for this moment.

She nursed greedily, each pulls filling her more, more, more.

Her body responded before her mind did, and a soft, pleased sigh slipped from her lips as the warmth spread through her chest, stomach, and limbs.

Her vision blurred, her thoughts hazing, a soft fog settling into her mind like a warm, comforting embrace.

Then—

The nipple was pulled away.

Hannah whined a desperate, needy sound she didn’t recognize as her own.

No—no, no, no, she needed it.

She needed more.

Evelyn only shushed her gently, shifting her to the other arm, swapping breasts, and cradling her closer before pressing her other nipple back to Hannah’s lips.

Hannah latched instantly.

Her body relaxed completely, her vision fully hazing, the world around her dissolving into nothing but warmth, sweetness, and the steady, rhythmic pull of milk flowing into her.

She was floating, sinking into a dreamlike state, her body heavy, warm, and safe.

Everything else faded.

All that remained was the milk, the warmth, the need.

And Hannah drank.

Hannah drifted her mind into a foggy haze, floating between dream and reality.

She vaguely remembered being lifted, her body heavy, slow, moving without thought or effort.

A warm, steady hand against her back.

A soft, rhythmic pat-pat-pat.

A gentle pressure rose in her tummy before—

A burp.

It came easily, naturally, and Hannah sighed, her body sinking deeper into the warmth cradling her.

She was held against Evelyn’s chest, the soft heat of skin against skin, the steady heartbeat beneath her ear, the scent of sweet milk still lingering in the air.

Even though her tummy was achingly full, she couldn’t possibly drink another drop; her mouth still watered, the ghost of Evelyn's warm breasts, the intoxicating taste of her milk clinging to Hannah’s tongue.

And—

Was that… crying?

Hannah’s hazy mind stirred, flickering at the edges, but she couldn’t grasp the thought.

She heard it.

Soft. Trembling.

A quiet, choked sound.

Was it… Evelyn?

Was she crying?

And—Daddy?

Why was he crying, too?

Hannah felt a deep confusion stir in her chest, a slow, sluggish ache that she couldn’t quite place.

Why?

Why were they sad?

She was happy.

So, so happy.

She was full, content, held so close, wrapped in warmth and love.

She felt the familiar rush of warmth spreading through her diaper, soaking into the soft padding, and she relished it.

The heat, the closeness, the safety of Evelyn’s arms…

What could be better than this?

She smiled sleepily, a soft, pleased sigh escaping her lips.

She didn’t understand why her family was crying.

Didn’t understand why they were hurting.

She just knew—

She wasn’t.

For the first time in forever, she wasn’t.