The laughter finally died down, the warmth of the moment lingering just a little before reality came crashing back in.

Evelyn let out a slow breath, running a hand through her hair before glancing at Emily again.

“Who else knows… about us?” she asked hesitantly, still half-hoping the answer wouldn’t be as bad as she feared.

Emily smirked.

“Me and Lucas, of course.”

Her arms crossed again, her expression somewhere between amused and knowing.

“Hannah… well, she’s a bit preoccupied with other concerns.”

Evelyn nodded, letting out a heavy sigh.

That was… honestly, better than she had feared.

At least not everyone knew.

But still—what was she supposed to do?

She couldn’t contact Miranda herself.

She couldn’t get the diaper off.

She needed help.

And she hated that.

Every fiber of her being recoiled at the idea of needing someone else’s assistance for something as simple as taking off a damn diaper.

But she had no choice.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly shot Welby a text.

Evelyn: “Come to the restroom. I need… help.”

Moments later—

A knock at the door.

Evelyn exhaled, stepping forward and cracking it open just slightly, peering out at Welby.

His expression wasn’t surprised.

Just… resigned.

Because he had probably known this was coming.

She met his eyes, her voice low, controlled, but undeniably frustrated.

“I need out.”

Welby nodded immediately, understanding exactly what she meant without needing further explanation.

His fingers moved quickly over his phone, sending a message to Miranda, and the moment he got a response—his face darkened.

His grimace deepened, his shoulders tensing, and he waved for Evelyn to step back.

She did so hesitantly, confusion and unease creeping up her spine as he ushered Lucas inside, Hannah still cradled securely in the crook of his arm.

Evelyn barely had time to register the change in Hannah.

Her eyes weren’t so hazy now, and her gaze was sharper and more focused. However, the slow, rhythmic bob of her pacifier still betrayed just how deeply conditioned she had become.

Then—

Welby looked at her.

And Evelyn knew she wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

“You’re going to have to ask nicely.”

The words slammed into her, humiliation burning beneath her skin like fire, spreading up her neck, crawling across her face.

“And you’re going to have to show her why you deserve a change.”

Evelyn’s entire body went stiff.

She felt the world tilt slightly, her vision tunneling, her pulse pounding violently in her ears.

She shook her head.

No.

No, there was no way.

No way she was doing that.

No way she was going to beg.

No way she was going to humiliate herself further—not after everything she had already endured.

“There’s no way,” she said, her voice shaky but firm, final, absolute.

Welby just shrugged, his eyes dropping, his jaw clenching.

He couldn’t even look at her.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly how she felt.

Because he had already been through it.

“This,” he whispered, his voice heavy, exhausted, bitter, resigned.

“This is exactly what Miranda did to us.”

Evelyn’s stomach tightened painfully, a sick, twisted mix of rage and helplessness churning inside her.

She clenched her fists, her breathing uneven, her cheeks impossibly hot.

And then—

Emily giggled.

Evelyn’s head snapped toward her, ready to lash out, ready to snap, ready to break under the unbearable weight of it all.

But Emily just smirked, arms crossed, her expression wickedly amused.

“How’s it feel?”

Evelyn’s blood boiled.

Emily’s grin widened.

“Not so sweet, huh? Getting a taste of Amazon medicine?”

Evelyn’s teeth clenched, her fists trembling, her entire body locked in place, drowning in her humiliation.

Welby let out a soft chuckle but then sighed, shaking his head.

“Emily, please… not now.”

His voice was tired, pleading, not just for Evelyn’s sake but for his own.

And despite everything—despite the unbearable shame, despite the utter loss of control, despite the anger burning beneath her skin—

Evelyn found herself swallowing back the lump in her throat.

Emily sighed, her earlier amusement fading into something heavier, something more frustrated.

“Sorry.”

Her voice wasn’t sharp anymore; it wasn’t teasing.

She wasn’t angry at Daddy.

She wasn’t angry at Evelyn.

She was angry at the system.

At the world that had put them all here.

Evelyn let out a slow breath, her heart still pounding, the weight of what she was about to do pressing down on her like an avalanche.

“It’s all right,” Evelyn murmured.

Because she understood.

She understood the bitterness, the rage, the helplessness.

Emily grumbled under her breath, arms still crossed, her expression dark with resentment.

“Now, if only we could get Miranda in the spot you’re in.”

Evelyn let out a small, humorless chuckle.

“That would be nice.”

But the moment of levity was fleeting, swallowed instantly by the grim reality of what needed to be done.

She sighed, holding her hand out for Welby’s phone.

“I’ll do it.”

Her voice wasn’t confident.

But it was final.

“Take the kids outside.”

Welby hesitated.

Evelyn could see the conflict in his eyes, the guilt, the exhaustion, the same silent, crushing acceptance that had settled into all of them.

But he nodded, pulling out his phone and preparing to hand it to her.

And then—

A new message.

The screen lit up.

Miranda.

Evelyn’s stomach plummeted.

She already knew it was bad.

But when she read it—

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Ohhh no. The Little ones are going to stay and watch.

Treat this as a training moment for them.

For what good Little girls should be like.”

Evelyn’s blood turned to ice.

“Now—record yourself.”

“Record the state of your diaper.”

“And ask Mommy nicely for a diaper change.”

“Tell me exactly why you deserve one.”

The words stabbed through her deeper than she thought possible.

Her hands shook violently, her breath shallow, uneven, panicked.

Because—this wasn’t just humiliation.

This was indoctrination.

This was a lesson.

Not just for her.

But for Emily.

For Hannah.

For Lucas.

For every Little in that room.

Evelyn felt her pulse roaring in her ears, the weight of their expectant eyes on her, the suffocating reality of her powerlessness pressing down with no mercy.

She had thought she was at rock bottom.

But Miranda—Miranda was about to drag her even lower.

Evelyn’s pulse spiked violently, rage flooding her veins like fire.

No.

She was not about to let this happen.

Not here.

Not like this.

Not in front of Lucas.

Not in front of her boy.

He would never look at her the same way.

She snapped, her fingers flying over the phone as she typed furiously, her breath coming in ragged bursts, her entire body trembling with fury.

"I am NOT doing that. Release me this instant or—"

She hesitated.

Her mind raced.

Or what?

What could she possibly do?

How could she fight back?

She had nothing.

No leverage.

No power.

No control.

And Miranda knew it.

The reply came swiftly.

Cold.

Heartless.

"Do you truly think you're in control anymore?"

Evelyn's stomach twisted.

"You have already proven you aren’t a good caregiver."

"You are on thin ice."

Her face drained of color.

"I hold you in the palm of my hand, Evelyn."

"And in a moment’s notice, I can have Lucas taken from you."

"You will be re-educated."

"You will lose everything."

Evelyn’s throat tightened, nausea twisting inside her.

Her vision blurred, the words staring back at her like a death sentence.

Miranda wasn’t just threatening her.

She was spelling out Evelyn’s entire future, her entire downfall, her entire destruction.

And she could do it.

She had that power.

Evelyn knew that.

She had seen it before.

And now, Miranda was reminding her exactly where she stood.

And then—

The final nail in her coffin.

"Now, you are going to ask Welby to take you over his lap and spank you for talking back to me."

Evelyn’s breath hitched sharply, her entire body going rigid.

No.

No. No. No.

"And THEN you'll make your recording."

The world tilted.

"Do you understand me?"

She couldn’t breathe.

"If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ‘Yes Mommy’—"

Her hands shook violently, her pulse roaring in her ears.

"I will have Disney security there before you can leave the bathroom."

"You will be arrested."

"Your Little will be taken away."

"And I will erase your identity."

Evelyn staggered.

A soft, broken gasp slipped past her lips, the weight of those words slamming into her like a wrecking ball.

She was trapped.

Completely. Utterly. Helplessly. Trapped.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Her breath was shaking.

Her vision was blurring.

Her entire world crumbled beneath her.

And she knew—

She had no choice.

Her fingers trembled as she typed.

"Yes, Mommy."

She hit send.

And just like that—

She was broken.

Welby stepped up to her immediately, his presence steady, grounding, real in the way she desperately needed it to be.

His hands were gentle yet firm as he took his phone back. His eyes scan the message before flicking back up to her, and his brow furrows in deep concern.

And then—

She was in his arms.

His arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, holding her, supporting her as her entire body shook.

And just like that—

She broke.

The dam collapsed, and sobs tore out of her, raw, helpless, unrestrained.

She had never felt like this before.

Never felt so powerless.

So helpless.

So utterly, completely trapped.

She could barely breathe, could barely think past the crushing weight of Miranda’s control.

What could she possibly do?

The thought of losing Lucas—

Of losing her baby boy—

The thought of him being ripped from her arms handed off to some cruel Amazon who would treat him as nothing more than a doll, a plaything, a mindless shell—

It felt like her heart was being pulled from her chest.

She couldn’t live without him.

She couldn’t.

Lucas was her Little boy.

He was everything.

No.

No, she would not lose him.

Even if it meant this.

Even if it meant humiliation, degradation, and pain.

Even if it meant playing by Miranda’s game.

For now.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Evelyn forced herself to breathe, to wipe away her tears, to pull herself back together.

Her Mommy's mask had shattered completely.

She had lost it in front of everyone.

But who could blame her?

Who could blame her?

Welby’s voice was gentle, quiet.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded, even though it was a lie.

“Can we… get this over with?”

Another nod.

This time, she meant it.

Welby, thankfully, took charge.

He moved with quiet efficiency, guiding her without hesitation, without cruelty.

And before she even truly processed what was happening—

She was over his lap.

Her cheeks burned hot, her entire body stiff, tense, humiliated beyond words.

And then—

The first smack landed.

A sharp, loud, undeniable sound filled the bathroom.

Evelyn’s breath hitched, her face burning hotter, her body jerking slightly with the impact.

The next smack.

Then another.

And another.

The sound of his palm striking the thick, sodden padding of her diaper echoed around them, the impact sending humiliating ripples through the swollen, messy bulk pressed against her.

She could feel it shifting, could feel the way every hit pushed the contents further against her, further into the diaper’s tight embrace.

The pain, the humiliation, the absolute shame of it all—

It was unbearable.

But still—

It was nothing.

Nothing compared to the grief, the fear, the unbearable reality of what would happen if she lost Lucas.

Nothing compared to what Miranda could do.

Nothing compared to the destruction waiting for her if she didn’t obey.

So Evelyn did the only thing she could do.

She endured.

She let the shame wash over her, let the humiliation drown her, let the degradation take hold.

Because it was better than the alternative.

Because if this was the price for keeping her Little boy safe—

She would pay it a thousand times over.

Before she even fully processed it, she was standing again.

A pleasant warmth radiated from her rear, the aftereffects of the spanking still lingering, tingling, reminding her.

In any other context—

Being spanked like that, by this man, over his lap, held firmly, treated so roughly—

It would have brought a different kind of heat to her cheeks.

It would have meant something else.

But not now.

Not like this.

Not in the way she wanted.

And then—

The camera was in her face.

She was speaking.

Saying the words Miranda wanted.

The words that made her skin crawl.

That made her stomach twist violently.

But her voice was silent to her.

She couldn’t even hear herself.

Her mind was hazy, fogged, miles away.

It was like she was watching through frosted glass, staring at a stranger.

A broken reflection.

Her body moved mechanically, obeying Miranda’s orders without hesitation, without thought, without resistance.

She was performing.

A puppet with invisible strings.

A hollow doll following its script.

Her hands lifted her dress.

Her fingers shakily gripped the hem, exposing the swollen, sodden, disgraceful bulk taped around her waist.

She turned slightly, presenting herself to the unforgiving lens, humiliation searing beneath her skin as she obeyed.

She shook her hips, shook the disgusting weight of the diaper, and let the camera capture everything.

Welby’s hand hovered over the send button.

Evelyn barely even felt it anymore.

And then—

The message was sent.

And moments later—

She felt the soft relaxation of the tabs.

Her prison unlocking.

She could take it off now.

It was over.

Or—

So she thought.

Because Miranda—

Miranda wasn’t done.

Not yet.

Welby stiffened, his phone vibrating again, and another order came through.

And then—

Evelyn wasn’t in control anymore.

Again.

Welby sighed but didn’t fight it, didn’t argue.

He just stepped forward, hands outstretched, helping her onto the changing table.

Evelyn blinked.

Wait.

No.

No, she could—she could do this herself.

She could change herself.

Couldn’t she?

But her body obeyed.

Moved without her.

Stepped up onto the table.

Lay down without resistance.

She barely registered how large the changing table was, how easily it accommodated her, and how it had been built for a larger occupant.

And then—

Welby was changing her.

The tapes peeled back with a soft crinkle, the weight of the used diaper pulling away from her body, leaving behind only shame, only the unbearable exposure of her vulnerability.

Her legs were lifted.

Her body was wiped.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t react.

Didn’t feel.

She just watched, somewhere outside of herself, watching Welby go through the motions, watching him clean her up, watching him slide a fresh diaper beneath her.

And when the new diaper was taped on when the soft glow of the security seal activated when the faint, artificial warmth of the lock settling into place pressed against her skin—

It felt like it was scalding her.

Like she was being branded.

Like she had just signed away her soul to Miranda once again.

It wasn’t real.

She knew that.

Knew it was just her mind making things up.

Knew the heat was nothing but psychological.

But that didn’t matter.

Because it felt real.

The suffocating warmth of her entrapment.

The invisible chains clicked into place.

And she knew—knew in her very core—

That no matter how much she fought it, no matter how much she struggled, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise—

She was still a prisoner.

Evelyn was standing again.

Her dress was smoothed down, her diaper hidden once more, her mask barely holding together, the edges of herself fraying, unraveling, collapsing under the unbearable weight of what had just happened.

And then—

Him.

Lucas.

Tiny arms wrapped around her legs, desperate, trembling, gripping onto her like he was afraid she’d disappear.

And then—

Sobs.

Raw. Gut-wrenching.

Not just crying.

Breaking.

The kind of crying that came from a soul splitting in two.

Evelyn’s breath hitched, her stomach twisting violently, her chest tightening with overwhelming grief.

She dropped to her knees instantly, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him close, holding him, shielding him, sharing in his pain, in his sorrow, in his loss.

His mouth moved soundlessly for a moment, his little chest heaving, struggling to get the words out.

But he didn’t have to say them.

She already knew.

Already felt them in the way he clung to her, in the way his body trembled in her arms, in the way he was trying to be strong but couldn’t, in the way this moment had shattered him just as much as it had shattered her.

Evelyn felt herself hovering over the edge again, the cliff she had been teetering on for so long, the one she had felt herself slipping toward, the one she had been waiting to fall from, waiting for the final push, waiting for her life to end as she knew it.

The cold, vast, empty landscape stretched out before her, her emotions stripped away, the last remnants of her fighting spirit barely flickering like dying embers.

A storm raged across it, consuming everything and threatening to leave nothing behind.

And then—

Lucas.

Lucas, who was real, who was warm, who was breaking with her, who was pulling her back from that edge.

She could feel it—the warmth flooding back into her, the connection returning, the unbearable solitude of her suffering finally cracking under the weight of his love.

She turned away from that cliff.

Because even if she felt her world crumbling apart—

Even if she felt like she was unraveling at the seams—

Lucas was there.

And he felt her pain.

He felt her anguish.

He knew.

He knew why she had done what she had done.

He knew she had done it for him.

And it broke him just as much as it had broken her.

So she held him tighter.

She buried her face in his soft hair.

Let herself breathe in his warmth, his scent, his presence.

And whispered, with every ounce of strength she had left—

“I’ve got you, baby boy.”

“I’ll always have you.”

Lucas’s sobs were muffled against her shoulder, his tiny hands gripping tightly at her dress as if holding onto her could stop the world from breaking apart.

“I’m so… so sorry, Mommy.”

His voice was small, shaking, full of helpless grief.

“I wish I could stop it. I wish I could help more. I wish—”

His breath hitched, his body trembling with frustration, with guilt, with pain too heavy for a child to carry.

“What can I do? Please. I hate seeing you like this. It hurts. I’ll do anything.”

Evelyn felt herself melt into his warmth, the depth of his love, his devotion, his pure, unshakable belief in her cutting through the darkness.

And then—

Another set of arms.

Welby.

Strong. Steady. Supporting her, grounding her.

She wasn’t alone.

She had Lucas.

She had Welby.

They were pulling her back from the edge, away from the abyss she had been so close to surrendering to.

She took a deep, trembling breath, pulling Lucas closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before whispering,

“The best thing you can do, baby, is keep acting. Keep playing the part.”

Her voice was weak, tired, but certain.

“Put on a show for her. For Miranda. I’ll do the best I can to protect you.”

She felt his little hands tighten against her.

And then—

“No.”

The word snapped like a whip through the air, sharp, startling.

Evelyn jerked slightly, her eyes widening as she pulled back to look at him.

Lucas’s face was red, streaked with tears, but his expression was fierce, determined, unshakable.

“No, Mommy.”

His little fists clenched, and his eyes shone with anger, raw emotion, and something so big that Evelyn felt her breath catch.

“I’m not about to let you shoulder this alone.”

His voice trembled, but there was no hesitation, no doubt.

“Not after everything you’ve done for me.

“Not after all the years you’ve loved me. Protected me. Cared for me—”

His hands fisted in the fabric of her dress, gripping her like she was his entire world.

“When you didn’t have to.”

Evelyn’s chest ached, her throat tightening with overwhelming emotion.

“It’s my turn now, Mommy.”

“It’s my turn to return the favor.”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, holding onto her with everything he had.

“I’ll be the ‘happy Little boy’ Miranda wants to see.”

“I’ll put on the best performance of my life.”

“Because I love you.”

Evelyn felt the dam break all over again.

Her tears fell silently, her fingers threading into his soft hair, cradling him, holding onto him like he was her lifeline.

Because he was.

Because this boy—this Little, her Lucas—was everything.

And she didn’t know how she had ever been strong enough to deserve him.

Her voice cracked as she whispered, broken but full of love—

“I love you too, baby.”

“So much.”

And for the first time—

Despite everything—

She believed they could survive this.

Together.

It felt like hours had passed, the storm of emotions finally beginning to settle, though the aftershocks still clung to her, weighing down her every breath.

Her body was exhausted, drained, and raw from everything Miranda had forced her to endure.

But then—

A small, familiar squish beneath her palm.

Evelyn blinked, her focus returning as she felt Lucas’s diaper and gently patted it.

“Someone needs a change.”

Lucas giggled, his eyes lighting up. His body immediately shifted into the perfect role, and he slipped into the act with practiced ease.

She watched as he let his thumb slip into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he sucked softly, playing the part effortlessly.

Evelyn’s heart ached.

She scooped him up, carrying him to the changing table, laying him down with ease.

His legs kicked playfully, his giggles soft, innocent, pure.

It should have been endearing.

It should have been cute.

But to Evelyn—

It felt hollow.

Forced.

Because she knew Lucas too well.

Too intimately, too deeply.

And while he would easily fool everyone else—

Everyone but her—

She knew the truth.

He didn’t want this.

Didn’t want to be the perfect, idyllic Little that Miranda so desperately wanted him to be.

But for her?

For Mommy?

He would do just about anything.

And she loved him all the more for it.

Her hands worked mechanically, quickly, and efficiently, wiping him down, powdering him, and securing a fresh diaper snugly around his waist.

As soon as she finished, Lucas sat up, giggling, arms outstretched.

Evelyn lifted him down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, her voice warm but heavy.

“Such a good boy.”

And he was.

Because he was hers.

Across the room, Welby was changing Hannah.

The girl had been oddly quiet, her pacifier bobbing lazily between her lips, and her expression was glassy and unfocused.

Evelyn could see the conflict in Emily’s eyes, the way her fingers tensed at her sides, the way her jaw tightened slightly.

And then—

Emily stepped forward.

Her voice was soft, small, and hesitant.

“Evelyn… I—”

She paused, sucking in a breath before shaking her head.

“I’m sorry.”

Evelyn turned toward her fully, but Emily kept her gaze down, avoiding eye contact, shame radiating from her like heat.

“I didn’t mean what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have—”

She hesitated again, her fingers clenching slightly as she exhaled shakily.

“I was just so mad at what Amazons do to Littles. At what’s been done to us.”

Her voice tightened, frustration seeping into her words despite herself.

“But it wasn’t personal. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

Her arms wrapped around herself, her body tense, defensive, guilt pressing into her frame like a vice.

Evelyn stared at her for a long moment.

The girl—this girl, who had been reduced to diapers and cribs and baby bottles against her will—

Was standing before her, head lowered, apologizing for hurting an Amazon.

An Amazon who had, at one point, been everything she hated.

And somehow—

That was almost more painful than anything Miranda had done to her.

Evelyn didn’t hesitate.

She leaned down, pulling Emily into a tight, warm embrace, wrapping her arms securely around the girl, holding her close.

She closed her eyes, and exhaustion was still heavy in her chest, but the warmth of Emily’s small frame, the slow way her body relaxed into the hug, grounded her.

At first, Emily was stiff, uncertain, maybe even caught off guard.

But then—

She melted.

She nuzzled closer, her fingers gripping softly onto Evelyn’s dress, her tiny frame relaxing into the hold.

Evelyn spoke, her voice low, warm, steady.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.”

“I understand.”

And she did.

More than anyone else on this planet, Evelyn understood how Emily felt.

The rage. The helplessness. The bitter, overwhelming injustice of it all.

She wanted nothing more than to give Emily, Lucas, and Hannah the ability to choose what happened to them.

To give them back the freedom they so rightfully deserved.

Emily sniffled softly, still holding onto Evelyn as if she was afraid to let go.

“I’m sorry,” Emily whispered one more time.

Then—

“I’ll do it, too. I’ll put on the act with Lucas. I’ll be that perfect Little.”

Evelyn pulled back slightly, looking down at her.

Emily’s cheeks burned red, her eyes flickering away, looking anywhere but at Evelyn.

Then—

A hesitant, quiet confession.

“I’ve… been having unique experiences going potty.”

She swallowed hard, her face flushing even deeper.

“Naomi and Oliver…”

Evelyn cut her off gently, resting a hand on Emily’s shoulder.

“It’s okay.”

Emily’s eyes snapped up to hers.

Evelyn gave a small nod.

“I know.”

“I’ve seen it.”

Emily’s blush deepened, her fingers twitching against her dress.

Evelyn gave her a gentle squeeze, offering reassurance and something solid.

“It’ll be okay.”

She sighed, brushing a hand through Emily’s hair and tucking it behind her ear.

“You should relax. Let it come and go as it feels. Don’t fight it, and it’ll ease its hold on you.”

Emily’s lips parted slightly, her brows furrowing as she processed the words.

Evelyn knew what she was asking of her.

It was humiliating.

It was embarrassing.

It was horrible.

But that was the point.

“The programming is meant to train you to enjoy using your diapers.”

“The more you fight it, the more intense the programming becomes.”

“As much as it sucks, Emily… you should lean into it.”

Emily fidgeted, shifting on her feet. Her expression was still burning with humiliation, frustration, and the weight of it all.

And then—

“I feel it, too.”

Lucas.

He stepped forward, cheeks flushed from head to toe, his fingers twitching at his sides.

Emily’s eyes widened slightly as Lucas stood beside them, shifting uncomfortably.

“I’ve felt it, too.”

His voice was quiet. Almost ashamed.

“I’m just… a little better at masking it than you.”

His blush deepened, but then—

He took Emily’s hand.

A soft, warm squeeze.

A silent reassurance.

And then—

A weak but genuine smile.

“We’re in this together.”

Emily’s lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering between Lucas and Evelyn.

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, glancing away.

“If helping Mommy and Daddy means having a little ‘fun’ in our diapers…”

His ears were red, but his voice was steady.

“Then I’m willing to put up with it.”

Emily’s blush burned brighter, but then—

She giggled.

Soft. Small. Real.

And then—

A nod.

“Okay.”

She looked up at Lucas, then at Evelyn, determination settling into her expression.

“I’ll do it too.”

And for the first time—

They weren’t just victims of Miranda’s game.

They were players in it.

And they were going to play to win.