Ivy woke with a start as light exploded into the room, bathing it in a warm, almost surreal glow. Soft strains of music followed—a lilting, whimsical tune that felt both innocent and wrong like a nursery rhyme pulled from a nightmare. She blinked rapidly, her sleep-fogged mind scrambling to make sense of the sudden cacophony.

Her hands instinctively went to her eyes, rubbing away the last vestiges of grogginess. Sitting up in her crib, she gripped the cold bars, her heart pounding in rhythm with the melody. Around her, the muffled sounds of movement told her she wasn’t the only one startled. Other contestants, caregivers, and babies were stirring, their silhouettes restless in the shifting light.

The babies’ cribs began to rise. They lifted Slowly, mechanically; the groaning motors reverberated through the room as if the walls were waking up. Ivy’s gaze darted toward them. The cribs clicked into place, their occupants to sit up, groggy and bewildered. The music swelled, its notes echoing in the vast, sterile space.

Then, from the ceiling, it descended.

Ivy’s breath hitched as a massive mobile—easily the size of a small stadium—emerged, spinning lazily in the center of the room. The intricate structure glinted in the artificial light, its metallic arms adorned with oversized objects that looked almost comically out of place: a teddy bear, a rattle, a pastel pacifier, and other infantile symbols. Each piece turned slowly, casting warped reflections onto the walls like an ominous carousel of shadows, floating lazily overhead.

Ivy’s fingers tightened on the bars of her crib as she stared, her confusion warring with a deep-seated unease. The mobile’s lazy rotation seemed purposeful as if it was studying them as much as they were studying it. The music reached its final, trembling note and stopped.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Ivy glanced around the room, her wide eyes meeting those of the other contestants. Finn was sitting upright in his crib, his mouth slightly open as if about to speak but unsure what to say. Clara and Lucas were similarly frozen, their postures tense. The air was thick with unspoken questions and palpable fear. The mobile continued its slow, hypnotic spin, and the faint creak of its arms was the only sound in the room. Ivy swallowed hard, her throat dry as her mind raced. What now? What did this mean?

The stillness stretched on, growing unbearable. No one dared to speak, the weight of the silence pressing down on them like a physical force. And then, from somewhere deep within the walls, came a soft click. It was sharp, deliberate, and carried an unnatural weight that sent a chill down Ivy’s spine. The sound lingered for half a breath before Mistress’s voice cut through the stillness like a blade—smooth, commanding, and dripping with mockery.

“Good morning, my little ones,” she purred, her tone deceptively sweet. “I trust you slept well. It’s time to wake up.”

The words hung in the air, and with them came a cascade of sharp clicks echoing through the room. Ivy flinched as the sound filled the space, rhythmic and relentless. Around her, the caregivers' cribs unlocked, the locks disengaging in unison.

One by one, the bars of the caregivers’ cribs slid down with a mechanical hum, freeing their occupants. Finn was the first to move, scrambling out with a quick stretch, his expression a mix of relief and apprehension. Other caregivers followed suit, climbing eagerly from their cribs as if desperate to shake off the confines of the night.

Mistress’s voice returned, smooth and oozing with satisfaction.

“Welcome to day three of the Nursery Trials,” she said, accompanied by a faint hum of machinery overhead. “I trust you’re all ready for another day of fun. Be sure to prepare yourselves—today’s activities are not for the faint of heart.”

The mobile overhead spun slightly faster, its shadowed shapes dancing on the walls like specters. Ivy’s chest tightened as Mistress’s words settled over her like a heavy blanket.

Ivy’s crib unlocked with a sharp click, and she wasted no time climbing out. Her legs were shaky but eager to stretch after the long confinement, no where near as bad as the babies, but eager to be back on her feet regardless. Finn stepped up beside her, glancing her way with a small, tired nod. Together, they made their way toward the caregivers’ changing room, weaving through the rows of cribs as other caregivers stirred and filed out.

Behind them, the mobile slowed its lazy spin, its mechanical arms creaking softly as it gradually stopped. The lights adorning it continued to cast dancing patterns across the walls, their movements now slower, almost hypnotic. The surreal glow followed them down the hall, fading only as they pushed through the door into the changing area.

Ivy’s bladder protested with each step, a mounting pressure that made her bite her lip in frustration. She could hold it, she assured herself, but only for a little longer. Once inside the potty room, she let out a sigh of relief. While still designed to humiliate, the space felt almost comforting in its familiarity. She quickly unzipped her sleeper, now unlocked for the morning, and peeled it down with her pull-up. The garment crinkled faintly as she sat on the brightly colored plastic potty, the relief immediate as she emptied her bladder.

A glance at Finn revealed a different story. He hesitated momentarily, avoiding her gaze, but the telltale sag of his pull-up around his ankles gave him away. Ivy raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, but said nothing as he sat on another potty.

“Rough night?” she ventured, keeping her tone light.

Finn sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the floor. “Didn’t make it,” he admitted quietly, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment.

Ivy nodded silently, finishing and standing from the potty. Her gaze swept the room, landing on the caregivers’ changing tables, where stacks of thick diapers were neatly arranged. She sighed inwardly—there were no pull-ups in sight. She knew what that meant.

Still, she couldn’t help but test her luck. Pulling her sleeper over her shoulders, she left it hanging loose and tried to reach the door. But as she approached, the door emitted a sharp chime, followed by a cold, mechanical voice, “Caregiver must be in Trial diaper with sleeper properly secured before exiting.”

Ivy groaned, her shoulders slumping. There was no getting around it. With a reluctant glance back at Finn, she tossed her pull-up into a nearby diaper pail and climbed onto one of the changing tables. She grabbed one of the thick diapers from the stack and unfolded it, laying it beneath her.

She tried to work quickly, fumbling with the powder and positioning the diaper correctly. But the awkward angle and the sheer bulk of the diaper made it frustrating. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she struggled, the tabs refusing to stay in place.

Before she could get more flustered, Finn appeared at her side. Without a word, he gently nudged her hands away, taking over with a calm precision. Ivy froze, her face growing impossibly red, but she didn’t stop him. Finn carefully powdered her and pulled the diaper into place, securing the tabs with practiced ease. He helped her sit up, zipping her sleeper over her shoulders and ensuring it was properly fastened, a click sounding as the zipper locked into place.

“There,” he said softly, stepping back. “All set.”

Ivy avoided his eyes, her blush spreading down to her neck. “Thanks,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Finn smiled warmly, his expression gentle. “No problem,” he said softly, helping Ivy down from the table with a steadying hand. Then, without hesitation, he climbed onto the table, grabbing one of the thick diapers. Ivy hesitated, her cheeks already burning as she turned away slightly. She knew she shouldn’t look—she didn’t want to—but the memory of him helping her moments ago conflicted her. Could she let him struggle alone after what he’d done for her?

With a deep breath, Ivy forced herself to step up beside him. Her hands fidgeted at her sides as she cleared her throat. “Here, um, let me help,” she said awkwardly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Finn paused, his fingers mid-motion as he glanced at her. His surprise was evident, but he nodded, shifting slightly to give her room.

Ivy’s hands trembled as she took over, carefully maneuvering the diaper into place. Her face felt on fire, but she kept focused, determined to get it right. The moment felt excruciatingly long, but finally, she secured the tabs with a firm press, ensuring the fit was snug.

Finn smiled down at her, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Thanks, Ivy,” he said sincerely.

She ducked her head, avoiding his gaze as she stepped back. “It’s nothing,” she mumbled, her voice thick with embarrassment.

Finn hopped off the table, adjusted his sleeper, and easily zipped it up. Still,” he said, his tone light, “I appreciate it.”

Ivy gave a small, flustered nod, her heart pounding as they made their way to the door together. The thick padding between their legs was a humiliating reminder of their situation, but Finn’s kind smile lingered in her mind, softening the edges of her embarrassment.

As Finn and Ivy finished, other caregivers filtered in and out of the changing room, each moving reluctantly. Some used the potties with resigned expressions, while others shuffled to the changing tables, begrudgingly securing themselves into the thick trial diapers. The air was heavy with quiet embarrassment and unspoken frustration, the humiliation of their situation apparent on every face. Finn and Ivy exchanged a glance as they left the room, the faint crinkling sound from their diapers a reminder of the trials they faced. Stepping into the main hall, they noticed the cribs where the babies were still locked up, their bars securely in place.

“Guess we can’t help them yet,” Finn murmured, his voice low as he gestured toward the cribs.

Ivy nodded, her gaze lingering on the rows of trapped contestants. She couldn’t help but feel sympathy, but practicality won out. “We might as well get breakfast first,” she said. “It’s not like we can do anything for them right now.”

Finn hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Yeah, good idea. Let’s go.”

The two headed toward the cafeteria, accompanied by the faint hum of machinery and occasional murmurs from other caregivers. The tension in the air was palpable—everyone seemed to be bracing for whatever the day would bring. Ivy’s stomach grumbled audibly as they walked, reminding her how much they would need their strength for what lay ahead.

The cafeteria buzzed with subdued tension as caregivers filtered in, each grabbing their trays from the vending wall. Ivy and Finn followed suit, collecting their meals and taking a seat at one of the low, colorful tables designed to add insult to their already infantilizing predicament. The meal, as always, was presented on brightly colored plates, the sections neatly filled with portions that felt more suitable for toddlers than adults.

Ivy stared at her tray for a moment, her brows furrowed. A strange array of food lay before her—a small cup of yogurt, a bowl of oatmeal topped with a dollop of whipped cream, and an oddly gelatinous, semi-clear drink in a babyish sippy cup. Each item seemed deliberately chosen, but the message was unclear. She glanced at Finn, who was eyeing his plate with a similar mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“Anything stand out to you?” she asked in a low voice, poking at the oatmeal with her spoon.

Finn shook his head, his expression troubled. “Not really,” he admitted. “But it’s not like they ever give us normal meals. There’s probably some kind of hint in it...”

Other caregivers sat in groups around them, their plates nearly identical, the atmosphere heavy with dread. Murmurs filled the room, and hushed conversations speculated about what the day’s trial might bring.

“Do you think it’s in the drink?” one caregiver whispered, holding up the sippy cup as if it might hold all the answers. “It’s... weirdly thick.”

Another shrugged, grimacing as they took a sip. “Maybe, but what about the oatmeal? It feels… off, doesn’t it? Like it’s supposed to remind us of something.”

Ivy’s stomach churned at the implication, her mind flashing to the humiliating possibilities. She tried to focus on eating, forcing down bites of the bland oatmeal and sips of the odd drink, though each swallow felt heavier with the weight of what might come.

The table grew quiet as the caregivers poked at their meals, each lost in thought. The strange assortment of food before them offered no clear answers. Ivy glanced around the room, searching for any sign that someone might have deciphered the cryptic hints, but the puzzled expressions and occasional murmurs told her they were just as clueless as she was.

Reluctantly, she returned to her plate, scooping another bite of the bland oatmeal into her mouth. As much as the food left much to be desired, it was still leagues better than the bottles of formula they’d been forced to endure. Ivy shuddered at the memory, her stomach twisting at the thought of the creamy, sickly-sweet liquid.

Across the table, Finn seemed to share her unease, sipping from his sippy cup with a grimace. “Whatever this is, it’s not as bad as yesterday,” he muttered, though his tone lacked conviction.

“No kidding,” Ivy replied quietly, her gaze flicking to the gelatinous drink. She hesitated before sipping, the thick texture making her gag slightly. It wasn’t the worst thing she’d had in the Trials, but the unknown ingredients left her stomach churning.

Other caregivers seemed equally reluctant. They ate in silence, their eyes darting nervously toward the clock on the wall. Time was ticking, and none of them could shake the feeling that whatever was coming next would be worse than they’d faced before. Despite her apprehension, Ivy forced herself to finish everything on her plate. As much as she hated the food, she knew she’d need every ounce of strength she could muster for the day ahead. The thought of going hungry, or worse—having to down another bottle of formula—was motivation enough to clean her plate.

Her stomach knotted as she set the sippy cup down, empty. She glanced at Finn, who was finishing his meal with a resigned expression. Around them, the quiet dread in the room hung heavy, the unspoken fear of the unknown gnawing at each contestant. As Ivy and Finn finished their meals, they stood in unison, gathering their plates and sippies before making their way to the disposal area. The faint clatter of dishes echoed in the otherwise quiet cafeteria, the tension still thick as the other caregivers finished their meals more reluctantly.

They approached the vending wall, their fingers lingering over the glowing buttons as they pressed the numbers assigned to their babies. The machine dispensed three large bottles with a soft hum, the liquid inside an unsettlingly familiar white. Ivy wrinkled her nose at the sight, her stomach twisting in sympathy for the recipients.

Her brow furrowed as she reached for the button assigned to her second baby—contestant 56. Unlike the others, the light beneath it was dim, and pressing it elicited no response. Ivy glanced at Finn, who had paused beside her.

“Nothing,” she murmured, trying again with no success.

Finn shrugged. “Maybe it’s because she’s still in the Naughty Room?”

Ivy nodded slowly, a pang of unease rippling through her. Contestant 56 had already earned a notorious reputation, but seeing her seemingly removed from the process was strange. With a final glance at the unresponsive button, Ivy sighed and returned to the bottles. Together, they made their way back toward the cribs, the soft sloshing of the liquid inside the bottles the only sound accompanying their footsteps besides the crinkling of their thick diapers. Ivy’s thoughts lingered on contestant 56 and the dim light, an uneasy curiosity nagging at the back of her mind. Whatever had happened in the Naughty Room, she doubted it was anything good.

As Ivy and Finn approached the cribs, their assigned babies greeted them with eager, albeit hesitant, expressions. However, the enthusiasm faded the moment the bottles came into view. Groans and soft protests filled the air as the three contestants reluctantly took the bottles, their faces a mix of resignation and dread.

Ivy handed the first bottle to Jamie, who accepted it with a defeated sigh. Meanwhile, Finn crouched beside Clara’s crib, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he slipped a hand through the bars, passing her something small. Clara’s expression shifted immediately, her eyes lighting up with surprise. She quickly popped the mystery item into her mouth, licking her mittened fingers clean with a wide grin on her face.

Ivy raised an eyebrow, curious. “What was that?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Finn glanced up, a hint of mischief in his expression. “Just a bit of my breakfast,” he admitted with a shrug. “Figured it was fair payment for them sneaking our food last night.”

Clara winked at Ivy, pleased with the gesture, and returned to nursing her bottle. Ivy couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as she looked at Jamie. She hadn’t thought to save anything for him, and now it felt too late to make it right.

Jamie, however, seemed oblivious to her internal struggle, dutifully nursing his bottle with a resigned expression. It didn’t take long before Ivy heard the telltale groans, soft and low at first, as the formula worked its way through their systems. Tummies gurgled audibly, and each baby shifted uncomfortably in their cribs, clutching their stomachs as their discomfort grew.

Other caregivers began to arrive around them, each carrying bottles for their babies. The room soon filled with crinkling diapers, soft whimpers, and the quiet glugging of bottles being drained. Ivy glanced at Finn, the tension between them unspoken but clear. The formula was already working, and with every groan and shift of discomfort from their babies, it became more obvious that the next trial would push everyone to their limits once again.

Around the room, soft groans grew louder as, one by one, the babies began losing control. The telltale crinkling of diapers became a constant backdrop, punctuated by embarrassed whimpers and muffled cries. Ivy winced as her attention shifted to Jamie, whose face was flushed a deep red, his eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to block out the humiliating reality. Moments later, he let out a small, defeated sound as his body betrayed him, the telltale squish of his diaper filling the air as he awkwardly bent over, sticking his bum out and Ivy watched as his diaper swelled.

Ivy’s stomach turned, unsure whether to say something or stay silent. Would an apology help? Or would it only deepen the boy’s shame? Her gaze flicked to Clara, who groaned audibly before following suit, her discomfort replaced by visible humiliation as she finished filling her diaper. Ivy grimaced. That was going to be the responsibility of the caregivers to cleanup. The thought sent a wave of unease, but she quickly pushed it aside. After all, if their roles were reversed, she’d be just as eager for a clean diaper.

The room grew busier as the last caregivers filed in, each distributing bottles to their babies. The sounds of reluctant nursing filled the air, accompanied by more shifting and muffled groans. The atmosphere was thick with discomfort and the unspoken dread of what was to come. A loud buzzer suddenly echoed through the space, jolting everyone slightly. Ivy turned to see the cribs unlocking one by one, their bars sliding away with a low hiss. The babies climbed out slowly, some wobbling on unsteady legs as their overfilled diapers forced them into awkward waddles.

Ivy gently helped Jamie down from his crib, his legs wobbling slightly as the thick, used diaper forced him to adopt an awkward gait. She gave him a small, encouraging smile before leading him toward the changing rooms. Finn followed close behind with his two charges, all making their way past other caregivers and babies in varying states of discomfort.

Reaching the changing tables, Ivy motioned for Jamie to climb up. His face burned bright red as he reluctantly obeyed, laying back as the table’s restraints snapped into place and the zipper of his sleeper slid open automatically.

Ivy took a steadying breath, trying not to let the sheer awkwardness of the moment overwhelm her. She peeled open the heavily soiled diaper with a grimace, the smell making her stomach churn. Whatever nerves or curiosity she might have felt about changing a man evaporated instantly, replaced by a determination to get through the task as quickly as possible. Despite having changed him once already, it was no less embarrassing the second time.

Suppressing a gag, she worked swiftly, using baby wipes to clean away every trace of the mess. Jamie’s face remained turned away, his cheeks crimson as he avoided eye contact. Ivy tried to focus on the task, her embarrassment nearly matching his. Finally, with the last mess cleaned away, Ivy unfolded a fresh diaper. Jamie’s relief was palpable as she secured it snugly, skipping the option for additional layers. She hit the button to complete the process, and the sleeper zipped back into place, sealing him up neatly.

“There,” she said softly, offering him a small smile as the restraints released. “All done.”

Jamie nodded, his gratitude clear in his expression as he climbed down.

Next to her, Finn was already finishing up with Thomas, who looked equally relieved to be clean. Finn then motioned for Clara to climb up, her steps hesitant as she reluctantly approached the table. Her face was a deep shade of red, her embarrassment plain as the restraints locked her in place and her messy diaper came into view.

Ivy glanced over as Finn worked, his movements steady and practiced despite the situation's awkwardness. Clara’s shame was written across her face, and she avoided everyone’s gaze, biting her lip as Finn cleaned her up. Ivy couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the girl, knowing all too well the humiliation of their shared predicament.

The room was quiet as caregivers and babies worked through the necessary tasks. The unspoken discomfort shared by all was a stark reminder of the Trials’ dehumanizing design. With their charges freshly changed and the playing field leveled once more, Ivy and Finn left the changing room, their steps mingling with the steady buzz of activity as caregivers busied themselves with their tasks. The shared weight of the Trials hung heavy in the air, though the morning routine had begun to feel almost mechanical.

As they neared the cribs, a sudden, loud buzzer echoed through the room, freezing everyone in their tracks. Ivy’s blood ran cold as the unmistakable hiss of the Naughty Room’s door filled the space. All eyes turned toward it, the collective tension so thick it was nearly suffocating.

The door slid open slowly, deliberately, revealing the dim, red-tinted interior beyond. Ivy’s heart pounded in her chest as mechanical arms extended from the shadows, their movements smooth and deliberate. Clutched in their grasp was contestant 56.

The once defiant girl looked utterly broken, her eyes glassy and vacant, as though the fire that had driven her had been extinguished. The arms carried her limp form with an eerie precision, placing her unceremoniously on the cold floor just outside the door. She landed on her heavily padded bottom with a dull thud, her head lolling slightly as if she wasn’t fully present.

The room fell into a hushed silence; every caregiver and baby froze in place, watching the harrowing scene unfold. Ivy’s steps faltered, her body stiff with dread as she stared at the girl, unable to look away. The Naughty Room’s door hissed shut with a finality that sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine, sealing whatever horrors it contained back into its depths. Contestant 56 didn’t move initially, slumping on the floor like a discarded doll. 

Finn placed a steadying hand on Ivy’s shoulder, his expression grim. “What did they do to her?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Ivy didn’t answer, her throat dry as she watched contestant 56 slowly stir, her movements sluggish and disoriented. Whatever had happened in the Naughty Room, it was clear the girl had been fundamentally changed—and the unspoken fear in the room was palpable.

The girl blinked slowly, her glassy eyes beginning to regain some semblance of awareness as she looked around. Her gaze flitted across the room, her movements jerky, like someone waking from a terrible dream. When her eyes locked onto Ivy, they widened in panic.

“Please,” the girl whimpered, her voice trembling. “Please forgive me. I... I won’t be naughty again. I promise.”

Her words were choked with desperation, tears streaming down her already tear-streaked cheeks. The raw fear in her voice and the pain etched on her face made Ivy’s chest tighten. She took a cautious step back, startled by the intensity of the girl’s plea.

“Hey,” Ivy said softly, raising her hands in a calming gesture. “It’s okay. Really. We’re all under a lot of stress. I forgive you.”

The girl’s body seemed to visibly relax at Ivy’s words, her panic ebbing slightly as she took a shaky breath. She wiped at her face with trembling, mittened hands, though her tears didn’t fully stop. Her movements were hesitant as if expecting some unseen punishment to strike at any moment.

Ivy forced a reassuring smile, even as unease churned in her stomach. “You’re okay now,” she added, her voice steady despite her nerves. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

The girl nodded faintly, her shoulders slumping like an enormous weight had been lifted. But the haunted look in her eyes lingered. Behind Ivy, Finn watched the exchange quietly, his expression a mix of sympathy and caution. The other contestants in the room shifted uneasily, stealing glances at the girl while pretending not to watch too closely. Ivy glanced at Finn, then back at the girl, her mind racing. Whatever had happened to her, it was clear that the Naughty Room had left scars deeper than anything physical—and Ivy couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all walking on the edge of the same abyss.

The last caregivers and babies filed into the room, their movements hesitant, their whispers barely more than hushed murmurs. Contestant 56’s presence had shaken them all, a living warning of what awaited those who defied the rules. Ivy could feel the tension thickening, pressing down on them like an invisible force.

Before she could dwell on it further, the lights dimmed, sending an eerie hush through the room. Then, Mistress’s voice slithered through the speakers, smooth and dripping with amusement.

“Good morning, my little ones,” she cooed, her tone unnervingly sweet. “I do hope you’re all well-rested and ready for some fun. It’s time for your third trial.”

A chill ran down Ivy’s spine.

The lights suddenly cut out entirely, plunging the room into absolute darkness. A few contestants gasped, their nervous whispers swallowed by the void. The silence stretched long enough for Ivy’s pulse to hammer in her ears, for the air to feel heavier, thicker—

Then, a deep, mechanical hiss echoed from the room's far end.

A door slid open, its edges glowing with an eerie white light. Fog curled into the space, rolling across the floor like creeping fingers, tendrils licking at their feet. The portal beyond the door was impossibly bright, its contents obscured by the overwhelming glow.

Ivy swallowed hard, instinctively stepping closer to Finn as she stared at the unsettling sight.

Mistress’s voice returned, softer now but no less sinister.

“Come along, my darlings. It’s time to play.”

The words sent a shiver down Ivy’s spine. Whatever awaited them beyond that door, she knew one thing for certain. They weren’t going to like it. Ivy moved with trepidation, her breaths shallow as she joined Clara, Finn, Jamie, and the rest of the contestants in their slow, reluctant march toward the door. The glowing portal loomed before them, its light shimmering like a barrier between their current dread and the horrors yet to come.

The fog curled thicker around their feet the closer they got, muffling their steps and adding an eerie stillness to the air. Ivy’s stomach twisted in knots, her imagination running wild with what could be waiting on the other side.

She paused at the threshold, her toes brushing the edge of the blinding light. The glow was so intense that it obscured everything beyond, turning the unknown into something both terrifying and irresistible.

Her heart pounded as she hesitated, a faint voice in her mind begging her to turn back, to retreat. But there was no retreat—not in this place. With a deep, shuddering breath, Ivy steeled herself and stepped forward.

The light enveloped her, swallowing her whole. For a split second, everything seemed to stop—her heart, her breath, her very thoughts. Then she saw beyond, and her heart plummeted.