The countdown hit zero, and Finn and Ivy instinctively froze, their breath catching as the room plunged into oppressive darkness. The hum of the machinery faded, leaving an eerie silence that pressed down on them like a weight. Ivy reached out, her fingers brushing Finn’s arm, grounding herself in the void.

“What happens now?” Finn whispered, his voice barely audible.

Before Ivy could respond, a screen at the far end of the room flickered to life, bathing the space in a cold, sterile glow. Both flinched, shielding their eyes as the sudden light cut through the darkness. The screen crackled with static before resolving into a familiar image: Mistress’s masked face, her eyes glinting with amusement.

“Ah, my curious little ones,” Mistress purred, her voice dripping with mockery. “You’ve stumbled into a lesson not meant for you… but since you’re eager to learn, let me teach you something special.”

Finn and Ivy exchanged a tense glance, their unease mounting as the screen shifted. The image dissolved into a series of rapid clips—contestants in their most humiliating moments during the trials, struggling, crying, losing control.

Ivy’s stomach churned as she watched herself on-screen, nursing a bottle during the first trial, her face red with shame. The footage switched to Finn, caught mid-wince as he waddled through the field. Each moment played out in excruciating detail, every humiliation captured for Mistress’s twisted amusement.

“This is what I see,” Mistress’s voice continued, smooth and chilling. “Every stumble, every tear, every desperate plea. I know you better than you know yourselves.”

The screen changed again, displaying Ivy’s dossier. Her details scrolled across the screen: her name, her background, and even notes on her fears and weaknesses.

“No,” Ivy whispered, her chest tightening.

“Your vulnerabilities are mine to exploit,” Mistress said, her tone almost playful. “And your secrets… well, make the game much more interesting.”

The dossier disappeared and was replaced by Finn’s. He stiffened, his jaw clenching, as his information was revealed. The words “tendency to protect others at his own expense” flashed on the screen, highlighted in red.

“Isn’t it fascinating how predictable you are?” Mistress mused. “You think you’re clever, brave even. But all it takes is a little pressure to make you crack.”

The screen flickered again, showing a new clip—a bird’s-eye view of the room they were in, Finn and Ivy staring at the screen in real-time.

“You see, my darlings, there’s no escape,” Mistress continued. “Every move you make, every choice, every thought… I am watching.”

The camera feed zoomed in on the cabinet they had opened, the tablet sitting ominously in Finn’s hand.

“And now you’ve unlocked something far beyond your comprehension.”

The screen suddenly went black, and the machinery's hum returned. Behind them, a door hissed open, flooding the room with light.

Mistress’s voice rang out one final time, cold and commanding, “Consider this your first and only warning. Some lessons come at a cost.”

Finn and Ivy exchanged a wide-eyed glance, their hearts pounding as they turned toward the open door and gingerly stepped through. The hallway beyond was dimly lit, and they took tentative steps, unsure of what awaited them.

As they moved through, another screen illuminated before them, casting an eerie glow on their faces. They froze as the image displayed an overhead view of the living room, showing the other contestants gathered together. The screen on the wall projected the trials in painstaking detail, including footage of Finn and Ivy’s secret venture into Mistress’s forbidden room.

Mistress’s voice rang out again, smooth and calculated, dripping with amusement, “This is your lesson, my curious little ones. Curiosity is a double-edged sword. While it rewards you with knowledge, it also breeds distrust. Information is power, yes, but in the wrong hands… it becomes poison. How you choose to wield or protect this power is entirely up to you.”

Ivy’s stomach churned as she stared at the screen. The sight of herself and Finn captured so blatantly made her chest tighten. She could already imagine the questions, the accusations, the fractures it would cause among the contestants.

Behind them, the door they had entered through slid shut with a chilling finality, sealing them off from whatever secrets they’d uncovered. A mechanical hiss sounded, and another door at the end of the room opened.

The walls behind them began to shift, sliding forward and compressing the space, forcing them to move toward the open exit.

“Go,” Finn urged, his voice low but firm.

They stepped through the doorway, emerging back into the hall they had come from. The faint hum of machinery followed them, and the ominous door sealed shut behind them, leaving no trace of the room they had just left.

The sound of hushed conversation drifted from the living room ahead. Ivy’s heart raced as she realized the other contestants were still gathered, oblivious to what she and Finn had just experienced.

Finn met her gaze, his expression grim. “What do we do?” he asked.

Ivy glanced toward the living room, her mind racing. Mistress had made her intentions clear—this was a game of trust, and their knowledge was both a weapon and a curse. Before Finn or Ivy could gather their thoughts, the door to the living room swung open, spilling light and a wave of angry voices into the hallway. Contestants poured out, a mix of babies and caregivers, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility.

“There they are!” someone shouted, pointing at Finn and Ivy.

“What were you doing in there?” another demanded, their voice sharp with suspicion.

“They’re spies!” a caregiver accused, her eyes narrowing as she advanced toward them. “They’re working for Mistress!”

The accusations came fast and furious, the crowd pressing in on them with an intensity that made Ivy’s stomach drop.

“Wait, stop!” Finn held up his hands, his voice steady despite the rising panic in his chest. “We’re not spies. We didn’t… we’re just trying to figure out what’s happening, like everyone else!”

But his words only seemed to fan the flames.

“Then what did you see?” a boy in a blue sleeper demanded, his arms crossed. “Why were you in there?”

“Yeah!” someone else chimed in. “Why are you sneaking around while we are out here trying to survive?”

Ivy stepped forward, her heart pounding. “We weren’t sneaking around! The door was slightly open—we just went in to see what it was!”

“And what did you see?”

Finn hesitated, glancing at Ivy. Sharing what they’d learned might calm the crowd or make things worse. But with the mob closing in, they had no choice.

“There were dossiers,” Ivy began, her voice trembling. “On all of us. Everything about us—our lives, our fears, our weaknesses. Mistress knows everything.”

A ripple of uneasy murmurs spread through the group, but the tension didn’t dissipate.

“Why should we believe you?” a girl in a red sleeper snapped. “For all we know, you’re feeding us lies to cover your tracks!”

“We’re telling the truth!” Finn insisted, stepping protectively before Ivy as the crowd pressed closer. “The room had screens showing us—showing all of us. Mistress is watching everything.”

“Convenient,” someone muttered, their tone dripping with sarcasm.

Ivy felt her back press against the cold wall, the crowd’s mistrust like a suffocating wave. “Think about it,” she said desperately. “Why would we lie? What would we gain?”

“That’s exactly what a spy would say,” the girl from earlier shot back, her eyes narrowing.

Finn clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling over. “We’re not spies! We’re just trying to survive, like the rest of you!”

But the crowd wasn’t swayed, their fear and paranoia twisting every word. Ivy’s chest tightened as she realized the scope of Mistress’s lesson—distrust was spreading like wildfire, and she and Finn were the spark.

“We have to stick together!” Ivy pleaded, her voice rising above the clamor. “If we turn on each other, Mistress wins!”

But the crowd wasn’t ready to listen. The circle closed tighter, and Ivy felt Finn’s hand brush hers, a silent promise that they’d face this together.

“Back off!” Finn barked, his tone sharp and commanding. “We’re not your enemies!”

The crowd hesitated momentarily, the weight of his words hanging in the air. But their mistrust lingered, and Finn and Ivy remained backed into a corner, the threat of betrayal looming like a storm cloud over them. The crowd’s energy shifted from suspicion to chaos, voices raised in a cacophony of fear and anger.

“They’re spies!” someone yelled.
“They’re working for Mistress!”
“We can’t trust them!”

Before Ivy or Finn could react, hands seized them from all sides. Ivy screamed, struggling against the iron grip of the mob, her heart pounding in sheer terror. Finn twisted and thrashed, shouting, “Stop! Let us go! We’re not your enemies!”

But the crowd wasn’t listening.

Dragged through the hallway, the duo’s protests were drowned out by the mob’s fervor. Ivy’s feet scraped against the floor as she tried to dig in, but her captors were relentless. Finn’s voice cracked as he called out to them, desperation laced in his tone.

“Please! You’re making a mistake!”

They were shoved roughly into their cribs, the rails snapping up with an audible clang that echoed through the tense space. Ivy clawed at the bars, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded, “Please, listen to us! We didn’t do anything wrong!”

Finn’s fists pounded against the bars of his crib; his face flushed with anger and fear. “You can’t just do this! Let us out!”

The mob gathered around the cribs, their faces twisted with uncertainty and rage.

“Do we eliminate them?” a voice called out, hesitant but laced with anger.

“Get rid of them now before they can do any more damage!” another shouted, fanning the flames of the crowd’s hysteria.

Ivy’s chest heaved as panic consumed her, her fingers clutching the bars so tightly they ached. “No! Please, don’t do this!” she cried, her voice cracking.

Finn’s voice joined hers, loud and defiant. “You’re making a huge mistake! We’re on your side!”

But the crowd roared on, their arguments growing louder, the tension thick enough to suffocate. Ivy squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for the worst.

Then, a voice rose above the noise, cutting through the chaos like a blade. “Enough!”

The crowd stilled, turning toward the speaker—a caregiver with a calm yet commanding presence.

“We’re scared. I get it,” the caregiver said, her voice steady. “But we can’t just eliminate people because we’re afraid. What if we’re wrong?” She glanced at Ivy and Finn, her expression firm. “Locking them up is enough for now. They can’t do anything else if they’re in their cribs.”

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.

“She’s right,” another voice chimed in. “We don’t know for sure. Let’s keep them there until we figure it out.”

The tension in the room began to ease, though the distrust lingered. Ivy and Finn exchanged a terrified glance, their breaths ragged as the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving only a few wary contestants to keep watch. Ivy slumped against the cold bars of her crib, her mind racing. Desperation clawed at her as she examined the latches, trying to see if there was any way to open them. But no matter how hard she looked or pressed, the mechanisms seemed electronically controlled—completely out of her reach. She groaned, leaning back against the bars and watching the retreating figures.

Several contestants shot her and Finn wary glances, their expressions mixed with fear and distrust. Ivy’s chest tightened under their scrutiny. How had things spiraled so completely out of control? A few moments later, a hesitant figure approached. Ivy looked up to see Clara, her face pale as she avoided Ivy’s gaze. She stopped shy of the crib, glancing over her shoulder as if worried someone might see her.

“Ivy…” Clara began softly, her voice trembling. “I… I’m so sorry. For all of this.”

Ivy blinked, caught off guard by the apology. “Clara… it’s not your fault. You didn’t—”

“I didn’t stop it,” Clara interrupted, her eyes welling up. “I didn’t even try. I just stood there while they… while they locked you up.”

Ivy frowned, her heart sinking. “There wasn’t much you could’ve done. If you tried, they might’ve turned on you too.”

Clara glanced back at the thinning crowd, her shoulders slumping. “Maybe. But it doesn’t make it right.” She sighed, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even know how to get you out. I don’t think any of us can open these cribs. They’re controlled remotely, I think”

Ivy exchanged glances with Finn, who had been quietly watching from his crib. He looked just as frustrated as she felt.

Clara hesitated before speaking again. “And… I don’t know what happens now. You’re supposed to be caregivers. Both of you. But…” She trailed off, wringing her hands as uncertainty clouded her face.

Ivy felt a pang of unease at Clara’s words. Mistress’s rules had always been absolute—caregivers were meant to care for the babies, not be locked up themselves. What would happen if the roles weren’t fulfilled?

“I’ll try to find out more,” Clara said quickly, her voice showing determination. “Just… hang in there, okay? I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Ivy nodded her throat tight with unspoken gratitude. “Thanks, Clara.”

Clara gave a small, fleeting smile before retreating, leaving Ivy and Finn alone in their cribs.

“What do you think happens if they don’t let us out?” Finn asked after a moment, his voice low.

Ivy shrugged uncertainly, her gaze drifting to the clock on the wall. The numbers glowed faintly, counting down the remaining time until bedtime for the babies. Her stomach grumbled loudly, a painful reminder that dinner was supposed to be served by now. The thought of missing it made her chest tighten, the situation becoming increasingly unbearable.

Her eyes flicked to the jackpot counter above the room, now reading $1,400,000. With every elimination, the dwindling number of contestants, now at 54, felt more significant. As the minutes dragged by, Ivy and Finn shared a glance, both silently wondering if this was another punishment—being left to starve as the rest of the contestants ate.

The tense silence was broken by the soft sound of footsteps. Ivy’s head snapped up, her heart pounding as Clara and Jamie came into view. Each held something in their hands, and Ivy squinted through the dim light to make out… sandwiches. Relief washed over her, momentarily easing the weight of confinement.

“We managed to get these for you,” Clara said with a faint smile, holding a sandwich out to Ivy. It was wrapped in a simple, colorful napkin that only added to the infantilizing atmosphere. “Not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Ivy reached through the bars, her fingers brushing against Clara’s as she took the offering. “Thanks,” she said softly, the relief in her voice evident.

Jamie approached Finn’s crib with a grin, holding out another sandwich. As Finn reached for it, Jamie hesitated, his grin turning sheepish. “Uh… full disclosure,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “I might’ve taken a bite out of yours, man. Couldn’t resist, especially since my meal consists of a bottle.”

Finn raised an eyebrow as he unwrapped the sandwich, the corner clearly missing. Despite himself, his lips twitched into a faint smile. “You’re lucky I’m locked up,” he quipped.

Jamie chuckled, though guilt flickered in his eyes. “Just returning the favor for keeping us on our toes earlier.”

Ivy took a bite of her sandwich, the simple taste grounding her as she settled back against the bars of her crib. It wasn’t much, but it was a small comfort in the midst of chaos.

Clara lingered by Ivy’s crib, her expression a mix of concern and uncertainty. “We’ll keep an eye on things,” she said quietly. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

Ivy nodded, her throat tight with unspoken gratitude. “Thanks, Clara.”

As Clara and Jamie turned to leave, Ivy exchanged a glance with Finn, his sandwich already half-eaten. The unspoken understanding between them was clear—they’d need every ounce of strength for whatever was coming next.

Clara rolled her eyes, nudging Jamie lightly with her elbow. “Just eat,” she said, her tone half-serious.

Ivy and Finn exchanged a glance before settling down to their plates, the simple act of eating offering a small comfort in the chaos. The food tasted bland but satisfying, each bite helping to ground them as they processed the day's events.

As they ate, Ivy glanced at Clara and Jamie, her voice soft but tinged with gratitude. “Thanks. For not… giving up on us.”

Clara’s smile faltered for a moment, but she nodded. “We’ll figure this out,” she said firmly, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

Jamie leaned against the crib bars, his usual smirk replaced by a rare seriousness. “You two are stuck in here for now, but don’t worry—we’ll keep an eye on things out there.”

Finn nodded, his expression thoughtful as he finished the last bite of his meal. “Be careful. If the mob turns on you for helping us…”

Clara’s gaze hardened. “Let them try.”

The weight of the unspoken threats hung between them as the clock ticked. Though Ivy felt a flicker of hope in Clara and Jamie’s support, the looming uncertainty of what came next was impossible to ignore.

Their meals finished, Clara and Jamie collected the empty plates, giving Ivy and Finn encouraging nods before leaving them alone again. The minutes stretched into hours, the oppressive silence of confinement giving way to a slow, creeping boredom. Ivy leaned against the bars of her crib, exchanging stories with Finn to pass the time.

They reminisced about their childhoods, sharing tales of mischief and simpler days. As the conversation flowed, they began to compare experiences, trying to piece together why they might have been chosen for the twisted Nursery Trials. The question loomed like a dark cloud, unanswered and maddening.

Ivy shifted uncomfortably, a growing pressure in her bladder reminding her of her situation. She tried to ignore it, willing herself to hold on, but time dragged mercilessly. Eventually, she sighed in defeat, letting go. Warmth spread through her pull-up, and the absorbent material swelled slightly between her legs. She groaned quietly, embarrassed, even though Finn couldn’t see her discomfort.

As the clock ticked down, the oppressive quiet was shattered by Mistress’s smooth, mocking voice over the intercom.

“Attention, my little contestants,” she purred. “It’s time for the babies to head to bed. Caregivers, your duties await.”

With a mechanical hiss, the locks on Finn and Ivy’s cribs disengaged, and the rails slid down with an audible click. Ivy hesitated, blinking in surprise as the bars retracted, finally freeing her.

Finn stepped out of his crib, stretching stiff limbs with a wince. He glanced at Ivy, his expression tinged with relief. “Guess we’re back on duty.”

“Lucky us,” Ivy muttered, brushing herself off as she climbed out. Despite the relief of freedom, the wet pull-up between her legs served as a reminder of her humiliation.

The hallway outside their cribs was quiet, but the faint sounds of movement echoed from the main room as the other contestants began to settle in for the night. Ivy exchanged a glance with Finn, her mind racing with questions about what lay ahead. As Ivy and Finn stepped out of their cribs, they were met with startled glances from other contestants lingering in the hallway. Whispers rippled through the group as people exchanged wide-eyed looks, their surprise at seeing the two out of their cribs palpable. Ivy straightened her shoulders, trying to project confidence, though her heart pounded.

“Guess word didn’t get around yet,” Finn muttered, his tone wry.

“Let’s keep it that way,” Ivy replied, her voice low as she scanned the hallway for familiar faces.

They spotted Jamie, Clara and Tyler waiting near the edge of the main room. Both wore sheepish expressions, their stances stiff with discomfort. It didn’t take much for Ivy to figure out why—they needed diaper changes.

“Let’s get this over with,” Clara muttered, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. Her cheeks burned red, though whether from embarrassment or residual guilt, Ivy couldn’t tell.

Jamie gave them an apologetic shrug, avoiding eye contact. “This wasn’t exactly the reunion I was hoping for,” he admitted with a weak smile.

“Yeah, well, at least we are not locked up anymore,” Ivy shot back, though her tone was softer than her words.

The five of them made their way to the changing room, passing other caregivers and babies along the way. The room fell quiet as Ivy and Finn entered, the other caregivers pausing mid-task to stare. The surprise in their eyes was clear—nobody had expected the mob’s prisoners to return to their roles so quickly.

Ignoring the stares, Ivy motioned for Jamie to climb onto the table. “Let’s get you changed,” she said briskly, not leaving room for argument.

Jamie hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Do we have to do this here? With… them watching?”

“It’s the only place for it,” Ivy replied, her tone firm but understanding. “The sooner we get it over with, the sooner you’re back in your crib.”

Jamie sighed but reluctantly climbed onto the table, the restraints snapping into place. Ivy worked quickly, unzipping the sleeper and removing Jamie’s soiled diaper. She noticed the boy turning away, clearly mortified by the process.

Finn was equally efficient with Clara, who winced as her wet diaper was replaced with a clean one. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” Clara muttered, though her teasing grin betrayed her attempt to lighten the mood, before Finn worked to change Tyler.

Ivy and Finn led Clara, Jamie, and Tyler back to the crib area with their charges changed. Both hesitated at their cribs, their reluctance written all over their faces.

“Do we have to?” Clara asked, glancing nervously at Ivy.

“You know the rules,” Ivy said gently, though her words left no room for debate.

Jamie sighed heavily, climbing into his crib with a resigned groan. “This is getting old fast,” he muttered as the bars slid into place.

Clara hesitated a moment longer before following suit, her shoulders tense as her crib locked her in for the night.

Ivy stood back, her arms crossed, watching as the cribs settled into silence. Finn stepped beside her, his expression grim.

“Think they’ll forgive us for this?” he asked quietly.

“They don’t have a choice,” Ivy replied, though her gaze lingered on the locked cribs with a twinge of guilt. “Neither do we.”

With a final glance at their charges, Ivy and Finn turned and made their way back down the hallway, the oppressive silence of the night settling over them like a shroud.

Ivy and Finn returned to the changing room, the low hum of conversation and the occasional crinkle of diapers filling the air as caregivers finished the last changes. The atmosphere was tense but quieter now, the earlier chaos having given way to reluctant acceptance of the nightly routine.

Steeling herself, Ivy pushed open the door to the caregiver changing room, Finn trailing behind her. Inside, the small, brightly lit space was as infantilizing as ever, with its row of plastic potties and rows of labeled cubbies.

Finn immediately moved to one of the potties, sighing in relief as he pulled down his pull up and sat down. Ivy watched him for a moment before hesitating at another potty. She didn’t need to go again, but the thought of waking in the middle of the night in a wet pull-up spurred her to try. She pulled her own pull-up down, sitting as she shifted uncomfortably, but nothing happened.

“Don’t force it,” Finn muttered, noticing her discomfort.

Ivy gave a frustrated sigh and stood, moving toward the changing table. She popped the tabs of her pull-up, the snug garment falling to the floor, and grabbed a fresh one from the dispenser. Pulling it up over her hips, she zipped her sleeper back into place. A faint click followed as the locking mechanism engaged, sealing her in for the night.

“Ready?” Finn asked, zipping up his sleeper.

“Not really,” Ivy admitted.

They left the changing room together, the weight of the day settling heavily on their shoulders as they returned to the cribs. The countdown clock loomed large above the room, the seconds ticking down relentlessly.

Ivy and Finn hesitated at their cribs, neither wanting to climb in. The thought of being locked in again, helpless and vulnerable, made Ivy’s stomach twist.

“We don’t have a choice,” Finn said quietly, echoing her earlier words.

With a resigned sigh, Ivy climbed into her crib, lying back on the soft mattress. The bars slid into place with a metallic clang, and she shivered as the locking mechanism engaged, trapping her inside. Finn followed suit, his expression grim as he settled into his crib.

The room grew quieter as the last of the caregivers climbed into their cribs. A sharp click echoed as the final lock engaged. Then, with a faint mechanical whir, the babies’ cribs began to descend.

Groans and muffled protests filled the air as the babies’ cribs sank onto the floor, their occupants pacified and restrained once again. Ivy watched with a sinking heart, the sight a grim reminder of the trials they were all enduring.

As the room plunged into silence, the dim glow of the clock on the wall was the only sign of time passing. The dim light flickered momentarily, drawing Ivy’s gaze to a screen above the cribs. It blinked to life without warning, and the faint glow illuminated the otherwise silent room.

The image on the screen sent a chill down Ivy’s spine: the Naughty Room, it had to be.

There, Contestant 56 was bound in the crib; her face streaked with tears as the mechanical restraints flipped her over, exposing her soiled diaper to the screen. Ivy’s breath caught in her throat as mechanical arms descended, one after another, landing harsh, rhythmic swats against the thick, discolored padding.

Contestant 56's cries were silent, and the audio was muted, but Ivy felt as if she could hear every swat echoing in her ears. The force of each strike was undeniable. The girl’s body trembled, and her muffled screams were visible around the pacifier locked in her mouth.

Ivy’s hands gripped the bars of her crib tightly, her knuckles white as she tried to steady her breathing. The haunting, muted scene felt more oppressive than any sound ever could.

Then, just as abruptly as it had appeared, the screen plunged the room into darkness again. A hush fell over the room, and the only sound was the faint, ragged breaths of the crib occupants.

Mistress’s voice purred over the speakers, smooth and mocking.

“Sleep well, my little ones. And remember… every misstep has its price. Be the good babies I expect you to be.”

The finality in her tone sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine as the room fell silent, leaving her alone with her thoughts and the lingering, silent echoes of Contestant 56’s punishment.