Hello all. Long time lurker, long-time-since-my-last-poster. I recently started developing an interest in the Diaper Dimension stories after reading “Settling” and, having thought of an idea, have now taken my first foray into writing one. I hope you’ll enjoy this story, which may be a bit different from usual since I’m far too fond of finding alternate ways, viewpoints, or ideas for a story.
Those Three Words
A Diaper Dimension Story
Eloise knew she had soiled herself before she moved and made the mess shift. Knew even before she sniffed the air and detected the telltale odor. She had the Dream again and, like every other time she dreamed about that night, she woke up with a dirty diaper.
She heard stirring around her. Eloise’s classmates, children and Littles alike, were waking up from their naps the same as she was. The grown-ups were getting the stragglers and organizing everyone for potty time and diaper changes. The former for the older kids, the latter for the Littles and younger children.
Eloise sat up on her nap pad, paying no heed to the cool, squishy feeling in her diaper. She couldn’t honestly remember the last time the sensation had bothered her. Eloise got to her feet and briefly checked her skirt. She frowned as her hand felt something sticky on the hem.
Well, no helping that, she thought as she made her way to the changing tables. Eloise didn’t hurry. There was no point. Grown-up children got priority over the Littles, since keeping them clean and dry as much as possible would encourage potty training. That wasn’t something anyone thought about much when it came to Littles, so she wouldn’t be changed for a while yet whatever she did. As she reached the tables she saw Miss Shannon kneeling behind Victor. Miss Shannon’s noise wrinkled as she pulled back on the waistband of the grown-up toddler’s shorts and diaper.
As she lifted him up to the table Eloise looked around for Mrs. Esther. The grown-up teacher was herding Littles in one place and doing diaper checks. She always did that so that whoever needed it most could be changed first or, if they misbehaved, be changed last.
As Mrs. Esther checked the Littles’ diapers her eyes narrowed as she saw Eloise approach. She always somehow knew who the stinky butts were. Then again, the sagging diaper poking out from Eloise’s skirt probably made it easy.
Eloise got in line for diaper checks. In front of her was a Little man dressed in the sea green smock and shorts that all the boy Littles wore. He was trying to squirm and stand up straight at the same time. Eloise knew that squirm.
“You should poop now,” a girl’s voice said from behind Lester. “If you go after you’re changed they may not do it again before your grown-up comes to get you.”
“I’m fine,” Lester said hotly. He heard the girl behind him sigh.
“You’re new at this, huh?” the girl asked. This time Lester turned to look at the person speaking.
The girl was a Little, wearing the sea green smock the daycare gave out to differentiate the Littles from the amazon children dressed in blue. Instead of blue short pants, she wore a red skirt like all the girls did. Judging by the stench that hadn’t been there before she got in line behind him, Lester could only assume that the diaper drooping from underneath her skirt was full to capacity.
“Just adopted?” she asked.
“I wasn’t ‘adopted’!” Lester said angrily. “I was kidnapped off the street!”
“Same thing to the grown ups,” she told him. Lester was getting annoyed.
Where does this girl in her poopy pamper get off talking all high and mighty, he groused to himself. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, compared to his twenty-nine. He did not need this on top of holding back a bowel movement.
“You should show your elders more respect,” he sneered.
That got a response. The poopy girl scowled at him. Then, to Lester’s dismay, she smiled.
“You are new,” she said. “You think you still count as an elder.”
Lester was angry enough to start shouting, only for the girl to cut him off before he could.
“You’re a Little in a diaper.” She crossed her arms. “That means, like lots of Littles, you tried to be like the grown-ups and couldn’t. Maybe you got checked and had wet panties, or a mean grown-up made you poop.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. It’s always something like that. Did you have a shmancy job, too? That’s pretty typical. The Littles that didn’t usually don’t fight as much. They know a Little is in a diaper doesn’t get out of it except when they’re changed into a new one.”
“Hmph,” Lester said, in lieu of confirming or denying what she was saying. “None of that matters, I’m not going to soil myself. Not now, not later, not ever.”
“Yeah you are,” the girl said. “Everyone does. There was one time, after naps, when every Little was poopy. The grown-ups opened all the windows to air out the place.”
The girl held her arms out wide.
“I won’t…” Lester said, more uncertain. “I have my pride.”
“That’ll only make it worse,” the girl said. “I’ve seen it, lots. I know what’ll happen.”
The girl nodded.
“Probably the teachers will change you now, and you’ll poop later. It’ll be a real accident, which will be worse than if you just did it yourself. Also, the teachers don’t like changing poopers if they were just changed so you’ll have to sit in it. Probably until go-home time.”
Lester’s stomach churned and he grimaced as a bit of gas escaped his rear.
“And if a teacher or your grown-up thinks you’re trying not to poop, they’ll make you.” She pointed to the daycare teacher who was finishing with the last of the amazonian babies. “Miss Shannon might just give you pooping foods like prunes or brown muffins to eat.” She pointed at the old woman who was slowly but surely diaper checking her way to them. “But Mrs. Esther, if she thinks you’re not pooping when you should be, she’ll stick things in your bottom.”
“It might just be one of those butt-pills that make you go. A…” she hesitated for a moment, “I can never get the word right… spasitory?” she continued. “Or she might stick the tubey bag in there and pump you so full you’ll push it all out.” She pointed to an enema bag set up in the corner. “And if a grown-up makes you poop it’ll really be a long time before you’re changed. I was naughty once and got a butt-pill, and Mommy didn’t change me until bedtime.”
“So do it now and be a good Little baby boy until the end of time?” Lester demanded. To his outrage, she laughed.
“Don’t be silly, you’re not a baby,” she told him. “You’re a Little. You know the difference?”
Before Lester could answer, she looked him right in the eyes.
“Babies grow up.”
In that moment, hope died within Lester. Everything the Little girl said was true. Everything he’d done to try and prove a Little could make it in a world of giants had gone up in failure the instant an amazon thought he’d become too big for his britches. He’d played the game and lost. He’d lost and he’d become the prize. An eternal baby doll for the giant woman who had made herself his Mommy.
In that moment. Lester gave up.
He filled his pants.
Eloise watched the older Little break down as he messed himself. She hadn’t enjoyed that. She shouldn’t have laughed, but she always found it amusing how few, Little and grown-up alike, realized the simple truth she had learned so long ago.
Mrs. Esther reached their point in the diaper check line. She saw the Little man bent over and crying. She simply nodded.
“I’ll leave you to your poopies, Lester,” she told him. Though Eloise doubted the man, Lester, was even listening. Mrs. Esther turned to her.
“Turn around, Eloise.”
Eloise obeyed dutifully, turning her back to Mrs. Esther. Normally, this was where the teacher would lift Eloise’s skirt and pull back the waistband of her diaper. Between the sheer amount of sag in her pants and the fact that some of the mess had leaked out of the leg holes and onto her skirt, that was wholly unnecessary.
“My word, Elly,” she said. “You’re filled to the brim. It even got on your skirt.”
Eloise didn’t resist when Mrs. Esther took off her skirt, leaving the Little in her daycare smock, socks, and dirty diaper. When you leaked, you lost your skirt for the day, or shorts in the boys’ case, so it could be cleaned and your parents would know you leaked when they got you. That was the daycare’s dress code.
Given her obvious need, she got first diaper change when the children were done. Going first meant all the other Littles who were waiting in line for their changes were in a position to watch as Mrs. Esther untaped her messy diaper and exposed her poopy bottom half to the world.
Some watched in resentment, like Lester who must have been misbehaving before since Mrs. Esther put him at the end of the line to give him as much time in his messy diaper as possible before changing him. Some watched in dismay. They were mostly the other poopy butts in the front of the line who knew their changes would have an audience, too. Some were impatient. They just wanted out of their wet or messy diapers as soon as possible. Finally there were the curious grown-up children, who wanted to see the Littles getting their diapers changed after they got to use the potty like big grown-ups.
Eloise didn’t care. If anything she enjoyed a feeling of relief as the diaper was removed and the teacher began cleaning her with wet wipes. Dirty diapers had stopped bothering her a long time ago. That wasn’t the same thing as enjoying them.
As Eloise often did during the longer messy diaper changes, she let her mind wander. Thanks to her dream, her mind and memory travelled back over a decade. Back to when she was eight years old. Back to the day she had returned to diapers.
She had been scared at first, when she woke up in the hospital crib. She had awoken in a room filled with other cribs, which all had their own Littles in them. The giant grown-ups had comforted her and gently explained that there had been a gas explosion. She had only been hurt a little bit, but her parents had not survived. She had been so stunned, so shocked, that she never noticed she had been diapered until she was lifted out of the crib and bottle fed. She had put up a short lived token resistance when she was initially picked up.
Mother and Father has been clear. Never wear a diaper or let a Big Person get you. With both happening at once and Mother and Father nowhere to be found, Eloise fought, kicked, struggled, and bit until the nurse decided she’d had enough and put Eloise over her knee and spanked her bottom until Eloise was begging for it to end.
After that, she was compliant. She accepted the bottle feeding, accepted the crib. She had tried not to use her diaper, but had wet it during her spanking. The nurse had not changed her until just before the Little patients’ bedtime.
Despite the Littles’ general bedtime being only a slight bit earlier than her own actual bedtime, Eloise couldn’t sleep. Her tummy hurt, and she squirmed and moved around in her crib. Bending seemed to make it worse so she tried to sit straight up.
In the moonlight coming through the window Eloise saw a few other Littles giving her annoyed looks from their own hospital cribs. Only one spoke to her.
“Just poop already!” hissed a voice from the crib next to Eloise’s. Eloise was so surprised she nearly did just that. She looked over at the crib next to hers and saw an old Little, gray haired and wrinkly. She was dressed in the same hospital gown she was. The same kind of diaper peeked out from it.
“No,” Eloise said. “Mother and Father said I should never pee or poop in my panties.”
“You aren’t wearing panties,” the elderly Little observed. “Besides, you’ll be up all night, way you’re carryin’ on. Try and fight, it’ll last forever. Fill your britches and get it over with. Your stomach’ll feel better and you might even get to sleep once you’re used to the feelin’.”
“I’m still not gonna poop,” Eloise declared.
“You sure about that?”
“I’m not a baby!” Eloise declared. The old woman laughed. At the time Eloise thought of it as such a mean laugh. Later, she would understand how bitter it was.
“You’re right, missy. You’re not a baby. You’re a Little. Do you know what that means? What the difference is?”
Eloise shook her head. Then the old Little said the three words that defined Eloise’s life from that day forward.
“Babies grow up,” she said to Eloise. “Babies grow up big and strong like their mommies and daddies. Littles?” She shook her head, gray pigtails flapped as she did. “No. No Little is ever gonna be more than waist high to a grown-up. We’ll all be as tiny as their babies. When those babies grow and leave the nest, we Littles will still be there in our diapers. And there will always be diapers. Only way a Little in diapers gets out of them is when she’s changed into clean ones.”
Eloise took the woman’s words in. Her breathing grew heavy. It couldn’t be true. Eloise’s eight year old mind tried to deny it. But try as she might she saw the old Little, sitting in the moonlight from the window. For all her age and wrinkles showing she was a million times older than Eloise herself, she was in a crib just like was. She wore the same hospital gown, her wispy gray hair was in pigtails, and Eloise thought her diaper looked swollen, as if it had been well used.
In that moment, Eloise gave up.
She filled her pants.
Eloise blinked. Just like that she was no longer the eight year old stuck in a hospital crib soiling herself for the first but far from final time. Once again, she was the adult Little being lifted off the giant changing table now that she was in a clean diaper.
She was set down on the floor so the next in line, Tommy it looked like, could get a clean diaper. Since her skirt was taken away and her daycare smock didn’t quite reach her thighs, her clean diaper was visible to all. It would be just as visible when it became yellow and droopy, as it absolutely would.
Eloise didn’t worry about that. It wasn’t the first time a leaky diaper had cost her a skirt. She giggled as she remembered a blowout so bad poop had gotten on every part of her uniform. She had spent that day in nothing but her diaper. She wasn’t embarrassed then, and wouldn’t be now. She had the old lady Little to thank for that.
“Don’t let yourself feel embarrassed,” the old lady had told Eloise over the course of their time together. “There’s grown-ups out there that love to embarrass Littles and watch them squirm. No matter what happens, be it bathtime, declarations that you made mommy a present, that means you pooped,” she added for Eloise’s benefit, “diaper changes in front of strangers, or the grown-ups saying mean things about you like you can’t understand them. Your face turns red and too many grown-ups will want to see you redder.”
That advice served Eloise well. There were indeed grown-ups who tried to humiliate her; mostly among her Big Sissie’s friends. By remembering she was a Little and that this wasn’t unusual, she learned to not be embarrassed and stopped being fun for those grown-ups.
“For the same reason, don’t fight too much. You got a taste of what happens when you do already.” Eloise remembered she had rubbed her still sore bottom at the reminder. “Open hand on your padding, though, that was light. When my Papi was alive he preferred his belt. My Momma, she favored a hairbrush. Both took my diaper off first and my Big brother carries on their tradition. It’s almost never worth it to resist but, if you feel it is, learn to pick your battles.”
As with Lester, she tried to share her experience and help her classmates, but her attempts often prompted the other Littles to call her things like Teacher’s Pet or Quitter. Those Littles would learn the hard way, when they resisted, that some grown-ups loved nothing more than teaching an uppity Little their place. The next time Eloise saw those Littles, the defiance had been spanked out of them and left them just as wise as they would’ve been had they accepted Eloise’s advice in the first place. Just like not being embarrassed, being compliant made it less fun for those grown-ups, leading them to find more spirited victims.
“Your grown-ups might offer to train you to use the potty. I know you’ll be tempted, but my advice is don’t bother. If you don’t have accidents on your own some grown-up will find a way to make you have one to embarrass you. Either way you’ll just end up back in diapers eventually, anyway. No Little stays potty trained forever, no matter how hard they work at it, so save yourself the grief.”
Mommy and Daddy had only tried to potty train Eloise once, when Big Sissie was being trained, too. She had been tempted, but recalling that old advice had refused. She told her grown-up parents, with more truth than she liked admitting, that the grown-up potty scared her. Its sheer size like it could suck you in, and the noises it made. The old lady had been right. It wasn’t worth it.
Recently, Big Sissie would ask about potty training her Little sister. Eloise suspected that was only because Big Sissie had started being given responsibility for Eloise and she disliked changing diapers. Mommy and Daddy had explained each time she asked that Littles rarely had much success in potty training. On top of that, because Eloise had been in diapers longer than Big Sissie had been alive, she probably couldn’t be trained even if she or they had been interested in doing so.
Eloise was pretty sure they were right. She wet without any awareness of the fact. Indeed, her freshly changed diaper was already slightly damp. She only had a brief moment or two of tummyache, at best, before she started pushing out a mess.
Eloise picked out a picture book from the bookshelf and plopped herself into a bean bag chair. The Big Book of Farm Animals was hardly sophisticated reading. That was fine, as Eloise was hardly a sophisticated reader. Eloise’s mother and father had made sure she had attended elementary school. After her adoption, Mommy and Daddy had hardly seen any reason for that to continue. So “the pig says oink” was just her speed.
As she flipped through the pages, she overheard a couple of grown-up kids talking about how they would be graduating to kindergarten soon.
“No more babies and their stinky diapers,” a girl had said.
“Or Littles, neither,” said her friend, eyeing Eloise in her green smock and damp diaper.
“Babies grow up.”
That first lesson, those three words, had been both the easiest and the hardest thing for Eloise to fully understand.
At eight years old, she had realized it meant she would never be a grown-up. It was what had made her receptive to the old lady’s advice. However, the full implication of those words didn’t register for many years.
When Eloise turned ten, one of her birthday presents had been the announcement that she was going to have a Big Sister soon. She’d understood instinctively that “Big Sister” wasn’t the same thing as “Older Sister.” For several years after Big Sissie was born, she and Eloise were raised and treated much the same. Their high chairs, their cribs, their diapers, they were all the identical.
By the time Eloise was fifteen, things started to change. She and Big Sissie no longer had their diapers changed side-by-side. Big Sissie was taught how to use the potty Eloise had avoided. Big Sissie had stopped going to daycare and had started kindergarten. Big Sissie was on the path to becoming a grown-up that, as a Little, Eloise would never walk.
Sometime after that realization, Eloise stopped keeping track of her age. There seemed no point. Her age didn’t describe how old she was, only how long she had been alive. No matter how long that was, she would always be Little. She was Little when Big Sissie was born. She remained Little as Big Sissie was now entering middle school. She would still be Little when Big Sissie got married and had her own babies or adopted her own Littles.
So went Eloise’s life. Eventually, her Mommy or her Daddy or, as we becoming more common, Big Sissie would pick her up. They would walk home, eat dinner, and give Eloise her bath before putting her to bed. When she woke up she would be fed, changed, dressed in her daycare clothes, with freshly laundered skirt, and then everything would repeat.
Lester, and many other Littles like him, had tried and failed to play with the amazons. The big people. The grown-ups. Eloise had never gotten to try at all, and seeing what they so often went through she had decided her life was probably better for it.