My name is Dave Warrender, and for years, a peculiar fascination consumed me. It wasnât a typical hobby, not one I could readily share. I was an adult sissy baby enthusiast, utterly captivated by the idea of complete helplessness and infantilization. But it wasnât just the fantasy; it was the Diaper Dimension that truly held me spellbound.
The Diaper Dimension. A whispered legend amongst a very specific online community. A parallel reality, remarkably similar to our own, save for one crucial difference: the scale. The inhabitants, known as âBigs,â were colossal compared to us, the âLittles.â Weâd be the size of 18-month-old babies, utterly at their mercy. And the laws⊠the laws were terrifying. Any Little caught within the Dimension could be legally adopted, placed in nappies and baby clothes, and raised as a permanent infant by a doting Big. No return ticket.
Iâd made my fortune on the stock exchange, a comfortable life allowing me to indulge my⊠interests. My collection of baby clothes, pacifiers, and other paraphernalia was extensive, a secret world hidden within our sprawling home. My wife, Corinne, knew about my fetish. She tolerated it, barely. I suspect my wealth was the only thing keeping her from walking out the door. She found it⊠distasteful, to say the least.
For years, Iâd dreamed of experiencing the Diaper Dimension firsthand. To feel the utter surrender of being babied by a Big, to be dressed and cared for, to be utterly and completely helpless. I wanted to be a little girl, swaddled and cooed over, my needs anticipated and met. I wanted the humiliation, the vulnerability, the complete loss of control.
âCorinne,â I began one evening, my voice trembling with a mixture of hope and trepidation. âI need your help. I need to go to the Diaper Dimension.â
She sighed, a long-suffering sound that Iâd become intimately familiar with. âDave, weâve been over this. Itâs insane. Itâs dangerous. And frankly, itâs⊠embarrassing.â
âI know, I know,â I pleaded. âBut Iâve researched it. Iâve found a way. Iâve even built the portal generator. I just⊠I need someone to operate it, to set the coordinates. And I need to know someone will be there to bring me back. I donât want to get stuck.â
I laid out my plan, detailing the safeguards Iâd put in place, the emergency return sequence. I begged, I reasoned, I promised to curtail my⊠hobbies. To my utter astonishment, she finally nodded.
âA week,â she said, her voice cold. âOne week of this ridiculousness. Maybe if you actually experience it, youâll finally get it out of your system.â
A wave of relief washed over me. âThank you, Corinne. Thank you.â
Sheâd managed to contact a resident of the Dimension, a woman named Penny, who had agreed to meet me and facilitate my return after seven days. It had taken weeks of coded messages and complex calculations, but sheâd done it. I showed her how to power up the portal, how to input the coordinates Penny had provided for my arrival and departure.
Iâd prepared everything. A soft, pink baby dress with a matching bonnet. A fluffy, absorbent nappy. Immobilizing mittens, designed to render my hands useless. Leather reins, for a touch of authenticity. And a sturdy stroller, because whatâs a Little without a stroller? I even had a pacifier, specially designed to be removed only by a Big.
The day arrived. I stood before Corinne, dressed in my chosen outfit, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. She fitted the mittens, the soft leather instantly restricting my movements. Then, she buckled me into the reins, attaching them to the stroller.
She looked down at me, a cruel smile playing on her lips. She pushed the pacifier into my mouth, and I instinctively began to suckle.
âYou look ridiculous,â she said, her voice dripping with amusement. âAbsolutely ridiculous.â
Her demeanour shifted. The tolerant, albeit exasperated, wife was gone. In her place stood a woman radiating cold authority, looking down on me with undisguised contempt.
âIâm tired of having a sissy baby for a husband, Dave,â she said, her voice hard. âThere is no one called Penny.â
My heart lurched. âWhat? What are you talking about?â
She ignored my question. âYou want to experience being a helpless little baby? So be it.â She cackled, a chilling sound that echoed in the room. âEnjoy your second babyhood.â
With a final, dismissive push, she sent the stroller rolling towards the shimmering portal. I tried to cry out, to protest, but the pacifier muffled my voice. I flailed my mitten-covered hands, utterly helpless.
Then, the world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors, and I was plunged into the Diaper Dimension.
The transition was painless, disorienting, and terrifying. I was trapped in the stroller, surrounded by towering buildings and enormous people. Everything was⊠huge. The grass was like a forest, the cars like monstrous beasts. And the Bigs⊠they were everywhere, looking down at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
I was utterly, completely, and irrevocably a Little. And Corinne⊠Corinne had betrayed me. I was alone, lost, and at the mercy of a dimension that offered no escape. My second babyhood had begun, and I had a sickening feeling it would last a lifetime
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