“This is your new room, Hannah,” Uncle Jared is repeating. “I promise, it’s no joke. Why else do you think your aunt just helped you into that nice big diaper, hmm? Why else do you think she gave you that pretty pink dummy?”
No- no- there must be some mistake. I never wanted this- never intended for- for them to take me seriously-
“We’ve both decided this is the best solution,” he continues. His hands are around me - kind hands, true, but hands that are also sinewy and strong enough to handle any amount of resistance I might be foolish enough to give. “You know as well as I do that money’s tight. You haven’t gotten a job no matter how much we encourage you. You can’t pay for your own meals or room and board. As far as family finances go, you’re literally as dependent on us as an actual toddler.”
Oh God no- You wouldn’t… Please, I tried, I really did! I know I can find a job- I’ll pull my own weight, I promise-
“And then we remembered that snarky comment of yours - you know, about how it must be so much easier these days for special needs folks. Right? So much assistance from that new government program, you were saying. So much support. And they don’t even need to find a job in this economy, either…
“So we did some research - some fascinating research. And guess what?” His voice sounds oddly amused. “You were actually right, Hannah. All you need to do is satisfactorily demonstrate to a government inspector every month for a year that you really do qualify as a special needs person, and voilà! Enough money to live comfortably and indefinitely - as our dependent.
“So this will be your future, Hannah.” His voice is firm now with resolve, and I know there is no way any protest of mine will change it. “Your aunt and I have already invested in this setup, and you’re going to make sure we make good on this investment. From now on, you’ll be our mentally disadvantaged niece - a twenty-two year old with the mental age of a girl two decades younger. Naturally, it’s diapers for you, of course. We simply can’t have anyone thinking you’re actually able to care for yourself…”
Please, no! Not diapers- not like some little brat, waddling off to bed every night- Not pissing my pants, please- Anything else but that!
“The rest of the babyish stuff is really more for your aunt than anything,” he shrugs. “She wanted to have a kid again, and, well… since it’s up to us, we might as well make you out as someone who still loves the toddler treatment. So, yeah. Don’t worry - we’ve been coming up with plenty of ways to help you come to terms with it…
Come- to terms? What on earth does that mean?
“It’ll be quite natural and comfortable, honestly. I imagine after a few days it’ll feel natural back in diapers again.” He chuckles wryly. “A couple weeks, and I wager you’ll be waking up wet just like a cute little bedwetter. Remember waking up in a wet bed when you were little? Only it won’t be quite like that this time; between the plastic mattress pad and those diapers, your aunt’s going to make sure you and the bed stay dry… On the whole, though, my guess is that after a few months you’ll start to forget what it’s even like to dress like a grownup…
“And that’s actually before we even start trying those audio files we found online! It’s going to be really quite nice and interesting, this new life of yours… Don’t you think?”
I cast a terrified glance down at the infantile padding, the pastel toys, the stacks of diapers that are welcoming me in. You will belong here soon enough, they seem to taunt me. I want to shriek, to run, to beg for my rights as an adult. I can’t be treated this way. I can’t. I simply can’t.
But deep down, I know I have no choice. For I have no other place to go.
And so, I suckle a bit harder on the rubbery nipple within my mouth. I distastefully wriggle my newly padded rear. And I find myself morbidly wondering just how long it will take until I’m finally brainwashed into thinking that all this is actually normal…
Image Credit: ABDreams.com
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