COLLAB- Losing Track (Patreon)

Gabby was on her hands and knees, attempting to solve the hardest and most important test of her entire life: how to use all the pieces in the Center’s railroad set and make a route for the toy trains that used every bit of track without fail OR overlap.  When the caretakers had given her the task four hours ago, Gabby had been positive that she could do this.  Now, she wasn’t so sure.

“It’s a simple test,” Mr. Tom had said. “To double check.”

“Double check what?”  Gabby had asked.

“To check if you’re really the adult you say you are,” he said before spooning in another mouthful of mashed peas.  “If you’re not a big baby, it should be easy.”

“What if I’m not a big baby?”

“Then you can leave.  You’ll get your big girl panties back, and you can go back to your grown-up life.”

“And if I am a big baby?”

Mr. Tom hadn’t answered that question.

When Gabby’s boyfriend, Daddy, had sent her to the Center, he’d told her it was “like a spa.”  Therapeutic.  Restorative.  And it had been.  A perfect birthday gift, in fact.  But after that first relaxing day, the people who operated the Center had told her that there were some “irregularities” and that she’d have to stay for further “treatment and testing.”  

Her panties had never been returned.  They’d put her back in diapers, “just in case.”   That had been close to two months ago.  Since then her wardrobe, her behaviors, and (she feared) her mindset had gotten more and more infantile.

Daddy had tricked her.  He’d known about this place, this Center, for a long time.  This was his fault.  He wanted her to be turned into some big dumb baby and had sent her here knowing that this would happen.  When (not if) she got out of this place, she’d give Daddy a piece of her mind.  

If only she could remember what Daddy’s first name was…

Gabby looked up from her train set, a forked piece of wooden track still in her hand.  Dang it.  The bridges and tunnels were straight, so they were easy. The curved ones were easy enough to circle around. The pieces that forked, necessitating two distinct paths- those were the real pains in the butt.  

Speaking of pains in the butt, little Susie was being bent over Mr. Bob’s knee for trying to take her diaper off.  Her bare bum was above her head as Mr. Bob spanked it mercilessly.  Susie would be begging to have her diaper back on.  She’d have to plead if she wanted it to stop: promise that she was just a big dumb baby and that she hadn’t meant to be so naughty.  That’s what Gabby had done, anyways. 

At present, Gabby couldn’t tell which was redder: Susie’s smacked bottom, her tear streaked face, or the mortified looks of the onlookers not yet used to these all-too-common occurrences.  
The new kids, the ones still allowed pajama bottoms over their medical-brand incontinence briefs, gasped.  Some hid their feelings- whether shock or amusement- behind the palms of their hand.  Others pointed and laughed openly, just like caretakers were nudging them to.

They sang out in the same nah-nah-nah-nah-boo-boo chorus that every single pre-schooler throughout history somehow learned through cultural osmosis. “She’s-a-big-dumb-ba-by! She’s- a-big-dumb-ba-by! Thought-she-was-a-big-girl!  Thought-she-was-a-big-girl!”  The ones who did this were rewarded.  They’d get to skip the shots and not have to watch the special cartoons that all the new kids had to be exposed to while the caretakers tried to “figure out what was wrong” with them.  They’d still have to have their temperatures taken rectally, but that was expected of everyone here.

Little did the laughing ones know that soon enough their relatively plain pajama bottoms and scrub tops would go the way of the dodo, along with their medical style incontinence briefs.  Those dignified and clinical garments would be substituted out with “play clothes” that looked more appropriate for a toddler. Their new padding would be so puffy and cartoonishly decorated that calling it anything other than a diaper would have been a farcical misnomer.   

The Center would be “Temporarily Out of Stock,” but things would be back to normal in a few days, Miss Kate or one of the other caregivers would assure them.  And Mr. Mark would emphasize that they “didn’t want to just lay around in their jammies all day like a bunch of lazy babies,” did they?  Normal never came though, and the various caregivers would seem to forget their promises by the time a new batch of Unfortunates sporting pajama bottoms, scrubs, and medical briefs were ushered into the main playroom.

And so the assembly line trudged on. This place broke people down by degrees.  Gabby had seen it all first hand. Yesterday,  Susie had just “graduated” to a skirt long enough to hide her diaper.  That’s why she’d felt bold enough to try and sneak it off.  Freebum it.  Now, if she was lucky, she’d be going into an even bulkier diaper, a dress that would barely drop past her waistline, and locking plastic pants “just in case.”   If not, Susie wouldn’t have been the first dumb baby to get put in a onesie for her trouble. 

Gabby herself was in nothing but a fire-engine-red t-shirt splotched with snack-time applesauce where the bib had failed, and a fresh diaper taped on.  No shoes or socks;  she didn’t need them here.  Pants would have been too much trouble, too.  Her long red hair had been tied back in a ponytail; the decorative pink ribbon holding it together made her look “absolutely adorable.”  That’s what Mr. Jim had told her when he dressed her this morning.

She couldn’t help smiling when a broken and defeated Susie was carried off to be re-diapered and put into something more fitting for a baby like her.  

This setup wasn’t working: the train kept having to reuse that track in the middle in order to get to the last stretch, no matter where she started it from.  Dang... 

Gabby growled and scattered the little pieces of wood in a tiny tantrum.  The momentary lapse, the catharsis, was necessary and expected of her.  For what felt like the hundredth time, she crawled along her designated play space, gathered up the pieces from the floor, and started over again.  If any of the newbies gave her weird looks, she didn’t notice.  She’d grown beyond that, beyond their pettiness.  It’s how she’d survived so long here.  

The constant laughing and the taunting had made it hard to make friends with anyone except for the caregivers.  Babies were......(crud! Kids! She meant kids- No! Prisoners...prisoners!)  Prisoners were encouraged to mock each other, to prove that they were as big as they said they were by showing how small their peers were by comparison.  Susie had been no different.  She’d been a royal bitch, too; bragging about how she was so smart she could get away with taking off her diaper.  Gabby hadn’t felt guilty when she’d warned Miss Donna this morning that Susie was planning to go Daisy Duck.  

At nearly two months, Gabby was one of the longest residents in the Center’s Front Half.  All of this: the mind games, the taunting, gaslighting, the infantilization, all of this was old hat to her now.  She was all but immune to it.  No way was she going to the Back Half.

The Front Half was where the “testing” was done.  Where residents were poked and prodded and teased until it was known whether they were true grown-ups or just big dumb babies.  The Back Half?  That was where people went when they were “ready.”  Gabby didn’t know what happened in the Back Half.  All she knew, all anyone knew, is that Back Half was a roach motel: they checked in, but they never checked out.    Almost everyone that Gabby had met on her first day at the Center was already gone to Back Half.  Only Chelsea had been here longer, and Chelsea was spending most of her days on her back, sucking her thumb and playing with her own tits.  Chelsea was just about ready for the Back Half.

If Gabby ever came across any of the people who’d gone before her, she’d promised herself, it wouldn’t be in Back Half.  The caregivers were giving her this chance to avoid that fate and she was going to take it!

Gabby had to poop.  Good.  Big dumb babies didn’t have to poop.  They just did it. No thinking.  No hesitation.  No realization. No regrets.  That’s why they needed diapers.  That’s what made them big dumb babies.

“What about my diaper?”  she’d asked Mr. Tom as he’d set the giant tub of railroad tracks down in front of her on the playroom carpet.

Mr. Tom had just smiled at that.  “A grown-up girl like you?” he’d said.  “You don’t need to worry about diapers.”  HA! TAKE THAT, DADDY!  With the biggest evidence against her adulthood discounted and out of bounds, Gabby was positive she’d prove herself beyond a shadow of a doubt.  In giving her this chance, Mr. Tom was ruining all of Daddy’s plans.

That had been hours ago. 

A pat to her squishy backside broke her out of her reverie.  She squished...that meant she’d peed!  Peed without even feeling the need to!   Slight correction: she’d peed her pants.  That was a trick she’d learned from one of her predecessors.  The Center’s caregivers always chose their language carefully.  They’d say “You’re wet” or “You need a new diaper,” doing everything they could to first embarrass and then normalize whatever they’d forced Gabby to do to herself.  

No adult ever said “I peed in the potty.”  Potty was the default. No need to contextualize.  It was normal for them.  Likewise, babies didn’t “wet their diapers.”  They were just wet.  Wet diapers were the default. No need to contextualize.  Or so the thinking went.  So if someone kept reminding themselves that this wasn’t supposed to be normal, it’d help prove they were more than what the caregivers in their fancy lab coats thought they might be.

Then again, the person who’d taught Gabby that trick had been carted off to the Back Half, rubbing themselves through a soaking diaper and babbling “Pee-peed in mah pants!”  So...yeah...grain of salt.

The offending hand belonged to Miss Mel.  “You’re wet,” she said.  Gabby just blushed and nodded.  Denial here was met with punishment.  The caregivers knew best and anyone who directly contradicted them was swiftly put in their place.  Only big dumb babies denied when they were wet.  “Do you want to go potty?”

At this, Gabby furiously shook her head.  She’d played this gambit before.  The rims of the “potties” here were coated with something that made icy hot seem tepid.  According to people like Miss Mell, the ghost pepper level burn on a baby’s butt meant that they just “weren’t ready” to use the potty.  

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”  A scream from the bathroom confirmed one of Gabby’s earliest memories of this awful place.  That newcomer would just keep their pants on next time.

Miss Mel didn’t seem to notice the howls of pain echoing out into the playroom.  “Do you want me to change you?”  Again, Gabby shook her head.  She had work to do.  She had to prove she was an adult; a big girl.  Miss Mel looked at Gabby’s progress, a few tracks still in disarray, and then gave the girl a pat on the head.  “You’re doing so good today.  I’m proud of you!”  

Gabby felt a heat rising up in her face.  Flexing her ankles, she  pressed the top of her foot into the soft shag of the rug she’d been placed on.   Her toes curled and into the carpet and grasped at the individual fibers, luxuriating for a moment while she smiled despite herself.  She wasn’t sure what Daddy had told the caregivers to do to her, but something in that simple compliment, something in compliments in general, filled her with disproportionate joy.  Miss Mel walked away, and Gabby was left to ponder her tangled mess of pathways.  What was Miss Mel so proud of?  As far as Gabby could tell, she wasn’t anywhere close to finding a solution to this puzzle.

The idea that there might not really be a solution refused to come to her.

Gabby looked up and fought the urge to raise her hand.  She wanted to ask the grown-up woman what had been meant by that compliment, but the pacifier in her mouth prevented her from speaking.  The thing was strapped around her head, preventing any meaningful speech to come out.  No. That was two weeks ago.  Now, she was just so used to sucking on the rubber teat that she didn’t typically think to stop unless a grown-up popped it out of her mouth for her.  

Weird.  

At least she still had to poop. That was something.

As she picked up the pieces and rearranged the track pattern for what felt like the hundred and umpteenth time, Gabby looked to her right and saw Priscilla.  Priscilla was in a little sailor dress. It was cute. Almost grown-up.  But it was just short and stiff enough that if the girl reached her hands over her head, bent down, or even squatted it would leave her very babyish diaper on full display, and that was if the thing was dry.

How unfortunate it was then that Priscilla had been told that she needed to use all the blocks to make a super tall tower without falling over.  Even sadder was that a couple of very naughty, very doped up newcomers- all boys- cat called, whooped and taunted Priscilla when even the slightest bit of plastic padding peaked out from the hem of her pristine sailor dress dress.

Gabby remembered this test.

Leaving her spot on the carpet, Gabby crawled over to Priscilla.  There was still just enough crinkle in her diaper so that Priscilla could hear her approaching.  “What do you want?”  Priscilla asked.  Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile.  Wasn’t welcoming either though.  It was as if Gabby had some kind of semi-contagious disease and a lifetime of manners combined with a thimbleful of human decency were the only things keeping Prissy’s anger and panic at bay.

Priscilla’s eyes darted over to Gabby’s backside.  Unconsciously, the girl’s hands were tugging at the hem of her dress as if that would somehow make the thing longer. 

“Uh unna hep.”  Gabby frowned and let the pacifier drop out of her mouth, dangling from her shirt. “I wanna help.”

The girl in the sailor dress frowned.  “Help how?”  There was a hint of curiosity in her tone.

Gabby lifted a block with the letter 4 on it up to Priscilla. “So you don’t have to bend over,” she said.

A soft, genuine smile lit up Priscilla’s face.  “Thank you,” she said, taking the block and putting it on top of the tower.

“Awwww!” one of the boys said, laughing.  “Wook at da babies tawkin!”  Priscilla’s face was flushed.  She still cared what people other than the caregivers thought.  Another thing Gabby had grown past.

“Immow ‘em,” Gabby said.

“What?’

She spit the pacifier back out.  When had she put it back in, anyway?  “Ignore them,” she repeated.  “They’re a distraction.”

Priscilla was ramrod straight.  “But they’re so distracting.”  She was tugging again.

Gabby handed her another block.  “That’s the point.  They’re there to distract you.”

“But why?”  Priscilla’s question was uncomfortably close to a whine.

“Sovatoo-”

“Keep that paci out of your mouth.”

Gabby dropped her jaw and yanked the clip off her shirt.  “So that you don’t finish. Or so that you get desensi...desense?”  Gabby paused, trying to get her dumb baby mouth to say the right big girl word.  “So that you get used to it and stop caring about people seeing your diaper.”

Priscilla looked genuinely puzzled. “Why would they want to do that?  This is about block stacking.”

“It’s a trick.”  Gabby said before giving the girl another block.  

The tower was getting taller and Prsicilla was lifting her arms way above her head- almost on her tippy toes.  Her dress was practically just a long t-shirt.  Priscilla was starting to ignore the boys’ cat calls.  The boys were obviously having less fun because of it.  Good.  Fuck ‘em.  Boys were stinky.  Daddy was a boy.

Just like before, the tower was starting to wobble, too top heavy to maintain its height for long.  “You know it’s impossible, right?” Gabby asked.  “There’s no way you can make a tower without the blocks falling.  They’re not balanced right.”

The blonde girl scoffed.  “How would you know that?” she asked.   “You’re just a-” Gabby was bracing herself for hearing the b-word when Priscilla stopped and let out a gasp.  “I’M PEEING!”  Priscillas hands didn’t shoot down to her crotch like Gabby’s had that day.  Instead they flapped up and down like an ostrich that hadn’t got the memo on flight.  

The blonde girl’s legs bowed themselves out and the diaper quickly started to droop.  It was less than two inches, all told, and you could only see the slight discoloration in the padding if you really looked for it, but there was no doubt, no position or stance that Prissy could have taken where it wasn’t obvious what had been hiding under her skirt.

Gabby bit her lip, wishing she still had her paci.  Welcome to the club, she would have said.

“TEACHER!” she cried.  “TEACHER! MISS DONNA! MR. BOB! I HADDA AX-E-DENT!” Gabby was distinctly uncomfortable with the waves of deja vu coming over her as Prissy frog-marched herself to the nearest changing table like a good girl.  Was there a word for the opposite of nostalgia?

The boys in the pajama bottoms renewed their gleeful taunting “AWWW,” one of them called out. “DID THE WIDDLE BA-?” The boy stopped and went quiet.  The blood drained from his face.  “Uh-oooooh…”  For once, the rude noise was coming from somewhere other than his mouth.

Like a cat, Miss Mel slunk behind the boy.  Gabby saw it coming, but the boy didn’t even realize he was being checked until Miss Mell was pulling back the waistband of his pants and staring at the inside of his briefs.  “Oh Billy,” she sighed.  “These incontinence briefs aren’t meant for THAT!”

Billy’s “friends” turned on him instantly as he was being shamefacedly led off behind Gabby to get changed.  He would not get put back in a “brief,” Gabby knew.  He wouldn’t be rejoining those boys either.  But soon enough, they’d be joining him.

Just the wrong blast of moving air from the conditioner came and the wobbly block tower started crumbling to its base; likely just as the tapes on Prissy’s diaper were being ripped off. 

Gabby let out a sigh.  So much for her attempted good deed.  She looked back over her mess of tracks.  Might as well get back to play.

The block tower was a trick. It’d been a trick before.  Always been a trick.  Everything here was meant to tease and draw out the big dumb baby in you.  The only way it didn’t was if there was no big baby to coax out.

Good thing she was getting out of here. 

Gabby had seen and experienced the block tower and the sailor dress.  She’d listened close to the lullabyes from the safety of her crib with the secret messages in them of “cartoons are best.”  She’d been able to blink and rub her eyes at just the right time to notice the flashes of text hidden behind her favorite cartoons.  “Cribs are safe.”

She’d endured spanking after spanking after spanking, admitting that she was just a big dumb naughty baby, but not really meaning most of it.  She knew she wasn’t naughty.

She’d endured forced orgasms in wet diapers and sensually whispered recordings of “good baby” in Daddy’s voice followed by an immediate teddy cuddle.  When she’d gotten to expect that, orgasm denial and Daddy’s voice saying “Naughty baby,“ got added to the mix.

And she’d been given game after game after game of tests and activities that were never what they seemed.  The track test was real, however.  She was sure of it.  She had to be. She needed to be.  She’d never seen this test before, had never spied any of the other babies trying it, whether they’d gone to Back Half or had come after her.  

This was her chance.  Maybe her last.  She’d managed to overhear the caregivers talking amongst themselves.  “Almost ready.”  Gabby had proved herself a big girl. They’d thrown everything they had at her and she’d stayed true to herself; a big girl. That’s what  “Almost ready” meant.

It had to.

An hour later, relief found her.  “I did it,” Gabby whispered to herself.  “I did it.”  She ran the little train along the tracks.  A perfect circuit.  No track used more than once.  Her laughter was quiet, but manic and giddy.  She was Frankenstein when the monster’s hand started twitching.

She did it...she did IT...she DID IT...SHE! DID! IT!

Not even the pain in her gut, the cramping in her abdomen, begging for release could stop the corners of her mouth from rising to the ceiling.  Finally. free at last. 

She relaxed her tired and overworked bowels, and started to push.  It had been so long since she’d actually tried to hold it in that the relief was palpable when she finally let herself give it. She practically flooded her disposable pants with muck.  It wasn’t even really pushing and grunting as much as it was letting go and moaning in victory.  

Gabby rewarded herself, luxuriating in the feeling as the warm mush pressed up against the back of her diaper spreading out, letting out a breathy sigh as her eyes rolled into the back of her skull.  This was going to be the last dirty diaper she’d ever wear.  Might as well enjoy it. It was just like a concentrated and very specific mud bath; almost exactly like the one she’d gotten on her first day here.
 

Instead of standing on her feet, Gabby rolled over and sat in her mess, whispering Daddy’s name as the filth spread all over her. This time it was Miss Donna who creeped up behind her and checked her diaper.  “Uh-oh,” Miss Donna said.  “Someone needs a change.”  

Gabby’s eyes shot open, her smile disappeared.  “Miss Donna, wait!” she cried.  “I need to show Mr. Tom something!”

“Mr. Tom has already gone home for the day,” Miss Donna replied.  “You can clean up your train toys after I change you.”

Clean up?!  The poor girl looked at her masterpiece, her proof that she was a big girl.  Then she looked at the clutter of blocks that used to be Priscilla’s tower and felt a shred of panic.  If she crawled away now, she might never crawl back.  In absence of her paci, a strand of Gabby’s ponytail found its way to her mouth.  “Buff I goffa sow Mr-”

Miss Donna held up her hand to silence the girl.  “Fine, fine, kiddo.  Show me what you got.”  

Gabby shuddered in anticipation.  It was now or never.  Her diaper sagging off her hips, she took the toy train and ran it along the tracks, making sure to carefully plot its route so that not a single piece of the puzzle was neglected or traveled upon a second time. When she was done, Gabby looked up at the caregiver, looking and feeling like an exhausted gymnast that had just stuck the landing for the gold medal.  “See?  I made a complete trip!”  She was panting.

“That’s very nice,”  Miss Donna nodded, “but don’t you think you should make some sounds?”

“Excuse me?”

“Trains make sounds, you know?  You want it to be as realistic as possible, right?”  A dreadful uncertainty fell over Gabby.  “Right?”

Gabby closed her eyes and breathed deep through her nose, unbothered by the fetid odor coming from behind her.  “Right.”  She did it again, slower this time, and being careful to add in realistic locomotive sounds.  “Chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-chooooo-choooooo!”  The entire thing took damn near two minutes.   “Like that?”

Miss Donna was clearly delighted.  “Very good, Gabby! I’m really proud of you!  We ALL are!”  Gabby felt that strange sense of euphoria overcoming her. Every nerve ending in her skin tingled with delight.  “What a good baby you’ve become!”  

The scream of ecstasy as Gabby orgasmed on the playroom floor in her loaded nappy caused almost everyone to stop what they were doing and stare as she writhed on the floor...but only for a moment.  Miss Donna slid a changing pad under Gabby’s bottom.  “Let’s get you out of that dirty diaper, shall we?”

Finally.  Finally.  Gabby nodded and sucked on her thumb. Helpfully, Miss Donna went over to Priscilla’s pile of dumb old blocks, picked up Gabby’s pacifier, and popped it in her mouth before clipping the other end to her shirt.

As Miss Donna undid the tapes on Gabby’s diaper, it didn’t occur to her that everyone in the playroom was now staring at her, aghast.  She didn’t care that she lacked even the minimal privacy that the changing table in the corner provided.  It definitely didn’t occur to her that Miss Donna hadn’t walked up with a packet of wipes and a changing pad; meaning the grown-up must have doubled back and brought them over for Gabby’s second performance.  She didn’t care that she could hear Mr. Bob and Mr. Mark muttering to each other.  

“She’s ready.”  

“They’re both ready.”

She’d have her big girl panties back on.  That’s all that mattered.

What Gabby did care about was when a new bit of crinkly padding slid beneath her and a cloud of baby powder started coating her privates.  “Wuf haffening?” she asked.

“I’m changing your diaper.”  Miss Donna didn’t even pause to talk as she refastened the fresh diaper onto her ward.

“Buffa tain!”  Gabby pointed to her masterpiece.

“It’s very nice.”

“Buff miffa Fom feh!”

“You spent all afternoon, crawling around and playing with trains in a wet and poopy diaper,” Miss Donna replied.  She took the disgusting balled up mess that had been wrapped around Gabby’s waist a minute ago and handed it off to another caregiver.  “Miss Mel told me you even refused a change.  Does that sound like something a big girl would do?”

Gabby sucked on her paci for comfort.

“Does it?”

The big dumb baby was shaking her head, even as she prepared her next defense.  “Fom feh I oant goffa wree bouf muh diafuh.”

Miss Donna placed her hand gently on Gabby’s thigh.  “Of course you don’t have to worry about your diaper, sweetie.  Babies don’t ever have to worry about their diapers.  That’s a grown-up’s job.”

Gabby’s throat was already tightening up.  “Buff, buff, bufff…!” she pointed to the completed train circuit.  “PEEFEF!”  The tears were starting to flow.  “OFFA PEEFEF!”  Miss Mel walked over to Priscilla’s derelict pile of unbalanced blocks.  She reached underneath the the wooden rubble and drew out a section of track.

A straight piece.  The simplest to incorporate, but in the current formation it would have thrown literally everything off.   “You missed one, baby girl.”  

Gabby went silent.  She’d failed.

She wasn’t an adult.  Not a grown-up.  Not even a big girl.

All she was, all she’d ever been, all she’d ever be was a... 

BIG.

DUMB.

BABY.

Gabby didn’t struggle as the caregivers took her dirty t-shirt off, only mewling a bit because they forgot to unclip her paci first.  She was done struggling. Done lying to herself.  She was done being mad at Daddy.  She missed Daddy.

Mr. Bob and Mr. Mark rolled up with a double stroller.  She let herself be loaded and buckled in next to Chelsea without comment or complaint.  Chelsea was blowing spit bubbles and playing with her breasts again.  Typical Chelsea.  Maybe Gabby would try it and see what all the fuss was about.

“I don’t think this is quite the place for babies like Chelsea and little Gabby,” Miss Donna  said loud enough for everyone to hear.  “Come on girls, let’s get you two to a place that’s more appropriate.” Miss Donna looked around the room.  “Let’s give these big kids some more space to play.”

The stroller started moving, headed out of the main playroom for good.  Gabby didn’t ask where she was being taken, but not because she didn’t think to ask. She knew.  Everyone did.

“Say bye-bye, girls,”  Mr. Mark said as the stroller rolled past the assembled toddlers.  “Can you say bye-bye to all the big kids?”

Gabby didn’t say bye-bye.  She didn’t feel like talking.  No more words for this baby.  Words just got her angry and sad.  She could wave, though.  Only in her mind, Gabby wasn’t waving “bye-bye.”  Instead, she was waving “see you soon.”  

The new kids looked horrified and backed away, afraid to catch Gabby and Chelsea’s big dumb babyness, still in denial that they already had it in themselves.  That’s why their Mommies and Daddies had sent them to the Center.

 The not-so-new ones merely seemed distinctly uncomfortable, fighting that fight that Gabby had had with herself almost since arriving: not wanting to admit that soon they’d be in the stroller, naked save for their diapers that they wanted so badly to hide.

Susie made the effort to nudge her way to the front of the assembled littles.  She waved “bye” back to Gabby, a mocking sneer on her mug.  Fuck Susie.  Poor little Prissy, still in her sailor outfit but with a diaper too big to hide, couldn’t bear to look at Gabby as the stroller rolled past.

Gabby knew she’d see the big kids again, soon enough.  Because they weren’t really big kids.  Just big dumb babies that were too dumb to have figured it out yet.  They’d learn though.  Everyone learned here.  People like Susie and Prissy were just right behind her in the big scheme of things.  And if she didn’t see them in the Back Half, that would be okay too.

It would mean that she’d be back with Daddy.  It would mean that she’d learned everything that he had wanted her to know and that the Center had to teach.  It would mean that she was a good baby. 

Gabby was a good baby.

(The End)

Author's note.  This was a collab/art trade with the fantastically talented 34Qucker and is being simultaneously posted on his Patreon.  Thanks to him to bringing the crazy story you just read to life.

If you're not subscribed there and you like what you see here, you should go check him out and subscribe.   https://www.patreon.com/34qucker

Deviantart:  https://www.deviantart.com/34qucker