Commission for  thelostone in which his character, Petie, wanders into a derelict, burnt daycare center and becomes the playtoy for the day of a ghost-type that lives there.


Like what I write? Well, I happen to have a magic portal that makes your dreams come true when you offer it a sacrifice! Access it HERE!

Please comment and tell me what you think. If you like it, fave it! I appreciate every last one

Story text: (Download for better formatting)
Petie took the stairs that ran up the hill from the road two at a time. It was a dedicated habit of his, that. Small as he was, barely bigger than a three year old at a glance, he often needed to take two steps at a time to keep up with whomever he happened to be walking with, and it had become engrained into the way he moved. At the top of the steps, built right into the side of a hill, was Petie’s destination: the late ‘Lil’ Poke’ Daycare, a middle class business that had been targeted at parents who work too much, and those who couldn’t be bothered to put up with their own children during weekends. It was a nice place, in so far as Petie had heard. He had never been there, himself, his mother never wanting to make him suffer the humiliation of sending a teenager who suffered from stunted growth to a place full of small children and babies, but it had been nice. It had been nice until it burnt down.
Petie didn’t know what had started the fire, nor did he care. It had happened on a holiday, so luckily nobody had been there to be hurt, but the owners, who, lacking the capital or insurance needed to rebuild the place, had simply abandoned the lot, leaving it as the scorched, creepy husk that it now was. There had been a red pattern of hearts across the front, painted right onto the plastered walls, but they were now black and scorched to near unrecognizability, the door ajar, windows shattered from the inside, roof burnt up, but still intact enough that collapse wasn’t likely. The little teddiursa swallowed hard. His paws were shaking, so he made fists and clenched hard. He had to go in there, his reputation, but more importantly his dignity, was at stake.
It hadn’t been a dare, exactly, more like an assertion made to a friend, Jules, who was terrified of ghosts and the dark, that there was nothing scary at all about the burnt out daycare, and Petie was willing to go inside to prove it. Normally he would have backed out of the promise, but, just Petie’s luck, he had been overheard by others, and, quickly enough, everyone had heard that itty bitty little Petie was going to brave the burnt out, haunted daycare, and peer pressure, to which Petie was always sensitive, had forced him to follow through on his claim.
The little bear toddled up the flower shaped flagstones that led to the front door, his mother having insisted that he wear his thick diapers to school since he had said he wouldn’t be coming home for a change right away, and looked up at the charred wood of the main entrance. It was open half way and swinging back and forth on its hinges with the wind. Petie could see a bit inside; the blackened floorboards, melted toys, waste carpet, everything within suggested the creepy nature of the place. Petie’s logic told him that the place wasn’t haunted. It couldn’t be. Ghosts didn’t exist. Ghost Pokémon, maybe, but nothing that would mean him real harm. He swallowed hard one more time, girding his loins, and, shutting his eyes tight, hopped up the two stairs and in through the front door.
The main room of the daycare was as horrific as he had thought. The place had mostly burnt up on its own, given that it was set on a hill overlooking the city and no danger to anyone, leaving everything the same black, grim husk of what it had once been. Petie was terrified, shaking visibly and covering his face with his paws, looking out between his fingers.
“Get the stuff, get out…” Petie said to himself, trying to steady his nerves and keep from screaming like the startled toddler he both felt and looked like. There was plenty of stuff in the main room, but everything had either been made unrecognizable or destroyed entirely by the fire. Nothing he could bring back to prove he had been there.
“Well well well, what have we here?” came a creepily warm voice, the little bear going stern, a cold sweat breaking on his forehead. Petrified, Petie couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything as a ghostly song started playing, sounding something like gentle wind chimes amidst the wreckage, the diaper between his legs quickly growing warm and sagging heavily as he wet himself with terror.
There was a flash of light, blinding to Petie, whose eyes had already adjusted to the darkness, and, when he finally blinked them open, again, what he saw mystified him. The dark, the squalor, the black and grey of the burnt out daycare had been brought back from the dead, as it seemed, and now, stupefied by the sudden transition, Petie found himself looking out a perfectly intact window at an early afternoon sun, the frames painted blue and green, bordered by wallpaper that had been printed with swirls and pokadots and fruit and stuffed animals. He turned around, diaper sagging badly between his legs, his cargo-shorts doing little to prevent it, and sat back in wonder at what had suddenly become of the place. It was beautiful, in its own way, toys scattered around the whole of the room, red and purple patterned carpet covering the play areas, a gargantuan stack of diapers in the far corner, cubby holes by the front door for children’s shoes and lunches, and color, color everywhere. For a moment Petie felt like he was in wonderland, the intensity of the sensations after such gloom enough to nearly bring him to tears.
“Woah…” Petie said, then realized the precarious position he was in. Despite the outward appearance of safety of this new room, especially in comparison with the bombed out daycare that he had been in only moments before, he couldn’t help but feel the cold chill run up his spine, something very unnatural about the place lurking just beyond the senses. Without further hesitation, Petie ran full tilt for the door, fully restored and colorful, the daycare’s name painted on beautifully, only to dash headfirst into the foam and wire of a play-pen fence, enclosing the carpeted corner of the room that Petie had been standing in. “Wha- whasoinon?!” he said, panicking and desperately trying to grasp the big plastic bar at the top, intentionally wide and smooth so that a toddler couldn’t grip it and escape. Unfortunately for Petie it worked as intended, and the little teddiursa found no purchase for his paws, slipping backwards and falling to the carpet with a thud, his soggy, heavily padded rear squishing audibly with impact.
Totally in the grips of terror, now, Petie cast around his gaze for a means to flee, to escape whatever was being planned for him, but, as the daycare was built with the intention of regulating children of Petie’s size, he was left as helpless to escape as any toddler or preschooler, sitting soggy bottomed in his diaper amidst the foam blockies and plush critters. His lip began to quiver, eyes watering for the inevitable crying fit when, out of the empty space in front of Petie’s face, a pacifier appeared and popped without resistance into his muzzle. As was often the case, the same tactics for calming down a child worked on the little teddiursa, as well, and, terror having gone to embarrassment, Petie suckled on the pacifier and tried to stand up only to find that the strength of his legs had deserted him, and he tripped backwards and into something that seemed to be made of silk and linen.
“Well, look who finally woke up,” the ghost Pokémon said, Petie cradled in her, for it was definitely a she, arms, rocking. It was a mismagius, Petie recognized it at once, and as quickly a knot started to form in his belly. “Poor little baby, whoever let you into this thing?” she said, nodding at Petie’s diaper, his pants and T-shirt having disappeared, “why it’s paper thin. Five more minutes and you would have leaked all over the place. Come, now, let’s get you into something dry and cozy, shall we?”
The mismagius, to Petie’s dread, was as good as her word, and carried him out of the play-pen and over to the corner window, where the laminated plastic surface of the changing table could be seen. Petie wanted to struggle, wanted to lash out against the thing that was surely out to make a baby of him, but found that he could do little more than wiggle in her grasp, offering little to no resistance, and whimper between suckles through his pacifier. In short order she had placed him down onto the cool, hard surface, lording over him with a warm, welcoming smile, and pushed his chin up with a finger.
“Keep your chin up, cutie, in a moment I’ll have you out of this thing,” she said, crossing the room to gather supplies from the corner, leaving Petie to wiggle around on the table. Petie shook his head in humiliation, and tried to roll over onto his belly, to rise even to his knees that he might make a move to escape through the door, mere feet away and unobstructed, the entrance open to let in the light of the afternoon sun, but he found he couldn’t Whatever he tried the little teddiursa simply couldn’t get his muscles to do what he wanted them to, except for the broadest motions, his lips unable to form words beyond mindless babble, made even less comprehensible by the rubber nipple that was stuck firmly between his jaws. He wanted to cry, to do anything that would signal his discomfort and embarrassment in the situation, to show the mismagius that he hated being babied, hated it with every fabric of his existence, but lacked even what little self-control that he had under the best of circumstances.
Petie’s eyes went wide as he saw the get-up that the mismagius was armed with when she came back. She had not one, but two of the huge diapers that he had seen stacked at the side, each easily twice the size of anything Petie would wear under normal circumstances, and all the babyish powder, lotion, and cream that were the dread of the little teddiursa. There was no way the mismagius could know what baby powder did to Petie, and he had no way to tell her…
“Awww, just look at the cute little baby pichus on the tapes,” the bigger pokemon said, making Petie look right at the big front print, covered in diapered pichus just as she had asserted, “but not nearly as cute as you.” She sat the big diapers right next to Petie’s head, so thick between them that he couldn’t see past them in that direction. The mismagius poked him in the belly, right where his ever present baby fat was thickest, and then started to tickle him on the sides, “who’s a cute little teddiursa? You are~ Yes you are~”
Petie, who was weak to tickling under normal circumstances, found the situation doubly humiliating now that he could do nothing to protect himself. His cheeks burned red with color as he wet himself yet again, his soaked diaper just barely above leaking all over the place.
She tore the tapes on either side of his pampers, and, thankfully, though Petie was reluctant to show it, Petie went still and grateful as the pulled away the thoroughly drenched garment. “Guess you’re a little confused, huh?” the big, purpleish pokemon said, grinning down at Petie, who, after a moment’s hesitation, nodded his head, “wondering where you are, and why you’re moving like a newborn?” Petie’s reply to this was to flush bright red, then nod as an afterthought, used to the feeling of helplessness by now. “I thought as much,” the big mismagius said, cleaning up Petie’s loins with a cool wipe, “I used to work here, you see… Could never leave after it went up…” her complexion went hard and solemn for a moment, considering old memories to Petie’s further confusion, “I won’t get into the details… but let’s just say I’ve been very lonely, all this time, little one. Nobody ever comes up here, anymore. You’re the first in… I don’t even know how long.” She finished cleaning up the helpless little bear and disposed of the wipes before grabbing up the first of the two diapers, slits already cut in the plastic backing, as well as the baby powder, which she sprinkled liberally on Petie’s loins.
Despite the little bear’s constant squirming, the warm but firm mismagius managed him masterfully, grabbing up Petie’s feet in one hand and hoisting his rear briefly up and off the table, slipping the extra-thick sleep diaper under him before setting him back down upon it, brimming with shame and contempt for the other Pokémon. Sure she was lonely and bored… but that didn’t give her the right to torture Petie like this! Despite his voiceless complaints, she went on ceaselessly, taping up the diaper around his waist, snug as ever he had felt, before repeating the process with the second thick, crinkling, absorbent undergarment. Petie held his breath as the baby powder was sprinkled in the air, the mere scent of it making him feel light and wiggly as a baby, and looked on with total disdain as he realized that his legs were spread irreconcilably far apart by the bulk of his new diapers, and he could now move little more than to wiggle his legs up and down. He wouldn’t even be able to crawl.
Reduced in stature to a mere infant, Petie had to fight to keep off hopelessness. Surely the mismagius didn’t mean to keep him here forever… did she? Petie’s caretaker saw the look on the little bear’s face as she readied a pair of shortalls with sunflower buttons and a crotch flap for diaper changes, and guessed correctly Petie’s train of thought. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” she said, poking him on the belly again just to see him wiggle, “You’re going to be my baby for the day, but I’ll let you go before night… if you’re good.”
The threat was playful, and wholly fabricated, but it seemed to have its effect on the little bear, who only hung his head in shame and suckled on his pacifier as the babyish overalls were pulled over his head, the flap pulling his diaper snug against his body and making him feel its intolerable bulk all the more. Seeing that Petie had given up resisting, the mismagius hummed with satisfaction and took the opportunity to wrap up the now compliant teddiursa’s paws in matching pairs of fluffy blue booties and mittens, both with accompanying snaps to make sure they didn’t come loose during what little free movement Petie still enjoyed.
On top of everything else, Petie felt very, very tired, like he hadn’t slept the previous night, and, as his muscles relaxed, watched his pacifier drop from his muzzle. That got his attention, since he hadn’t been able to spit it out, earlier, and he immediately perked back up. Without that thing skewing his speech, he could barter, or at least beg with this mad pokemon… maybe she’d listen to reason?
“Abbagawaggawwwagaa?” Petie babbled, his fat, heavy tongue and lips forming naught but gibberish in place of real words. He was shocked to hear his own voice. It was high, given his stunted growth, but not that high.
“Oh, is somebody hungry?” the caretaker said, picking Petie up effortlessly under the arms. He didn’t flinch at this, but only blushed a bit as he always did when someone manipulated him physically, easy as ever given his small sized. One corner of the room had a pane dancing mirror along the entire length and height of the wall, and Petie got a quick glance at himself in it. That couldn’t be him… could it? “Oh, does my little baby want to see himself?” the mismagius said, deliberately using her body to block Petie’s view as she approached the mirror, looking somewhere between smug and loving. Petie marveled and started at the same time as he caught sight of himself, his normally chubby face having gone downright round from the mismagius’ magic, his normally small body now in newborn proportions, legs and arms flabby and nearly without strength. He didn’t look like a baby… he was a baby! “You were a little bigger than most of the kids I tended to, sweetie,” the mismagius cooed, holding Petie out to give him the best view possible, “so I just made you a tad smaller. Don’t worry, I’ll change you back, just like everything else, right before you leave. Okay? Okay.”
The matter settled with or without Petie’s consent, the mismagius hoisted the now furiously wiggling newborn up and over her shoulder, carrying him carefully out one of the daycare’s side doors and into the brilliantly tiled kitchen. The kids would normally dine communally, except for the smallest of them, which ate at high chairs in the kitchen, fed by their caretakers. If being diapered and dressed by someone else was bad, being fed by one was hell, total, utter hell, and if there was anything, anything at all that Petie could do to prevent it, he would. Unfortunately, he had all the tools available to him of a three month old crawler, and, as was often the case with Petie, his body managed to betray whatever his mind would have had it do, his stomach growling with hunger to reinforce the mismagius’ notion that he needed to be fed, and fed well.
Petie’s new caretaker’s idea of a baby’s lunch shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did, two containers full of mashed carrot were emptied onto a plate with a plastic spoon, and set before the squirming infant, writhing with pent up frustration in his all too restrictive high-chair. The mismagius grinned down at him, clearly all too experienced at dealing with fussy children to not know how to deal with this situation, and scooped up a mouthful of the icky mush, Petie resorting to his last desperate card, put on his begging little baby face, teary eyed and whimpering up at his caretaker, who only giggled and shook her head.
“You can whimper and pout all you want, it’s not going to change anything, sweetie,” the mismagius primed down at Petie, who realized the futility of struggle as the first mouthful came his way, heaped orange mush on a plastic spoon, more fit for the newborn he looked like than the teenager that he actually was. “If you fuss, you’ll just get twice as much,” Petie’s caretaker said, offering the spoon again, “and you get to play the airplane game, too.”
As best he could, Petie crossed his arms and tried to look defiant as he opened his mouth for the spoon, the mismagius deliberately getting the stuff all over his lips to make him look even more the messy child than he already did. The little teddiursa smacked his lips once or twice, testing the taste of the baby food. It wasn’t intolerable, tasting of sweetened carrots with the consistency of mashed potato, and fell into mechanical eating, open mouth, swallow, open mouth, swallow. Petie got a start as he tried to chew a bite before swallowing.
“Aaaawwaa! Aggawaawa!” Petie whined, slapping his paw against the tabletop as he realized that the mismagius had taken away his teeth, also.
“Oh, I’m sorry, cutie,” Petie’s caretaker said, giggling, “babies don’t have teeth, so why would you?” Petie squinted and shook his head, sniffling with a trembling lip. It was torture for the little bear... Given his small size and need for diapers, he held his dignity with extremely high regard. Independence was vital to whatever self-esteem he could conjure up, and this mismagius was quickly and effortlessly stripping away what little he had to be proud of, pitiful as it was. “Open up for the airplane!” she said, making zooming noises and keeping the mouthfuls deliberately small to draw out Petie’s obvious discomfort, intentionally getting the food all over his chubby lips and cheeks just so she had an excuse to wipe him down. When he missed a bite, entirely the mismagius’ fault, and spilt the spoonful of food all over his overalls, his new caretaker decided she hadn’t gone far enough. “Well, I’ve fed lots of babies in my day, but you are by far the messiest!”
Petie’s face burned red, and he closed his eyes to avoid looking at what he knew he was about to have to endure. The first thing he felt was the mismagius’ hands go around the back of his neck, then he felt a heavy flat canvas of some kind fall onto his chest and go over his shoulders, snapping in place behind his neck. When he opened his eyes, his fears were concerned: the mismagius had bibbed him.
From that point the meal only went on a few more minutes, Petie’s caretaker getting more food on the bib than into Petie, just to watch the little bear squirm under her constant playful jibes.
At his normal size, the serving of mashed carrots would have been little more than a snack for Petie, but, at little more than a twenty pound baby, it was a full meal and then some. He wiggled in his chair, realizing only with a delay how full he was, and shamefully raised his arms to be picked up, the mismagius promptly doing so, and carrying the wiggling and uncomfortable bear out into the main room, again, and over to a big armchair by the play pen.
Petie hadn’t been nursed since his early toddlerhood, even with a bottle, but even so he foresaw his fate by quite some time, the mismagius having taken the time to microwave a big bottle of milk while Petie was fed lunch. He sighed as his caretaker laid him out on her lap, cushioning his head on one leg and offering him the nipple of the nursing bottle with the other. Petie looked on with disdain, the huge bottle clearly built for a much bigger baby than he. She couldn’t expect him to drink all of it…
Nevertheless, Petie, long having accepted the role of baby from his job, his life, and the misfortunes that landed him in the clothing and social roles of a newborn at least once or twice a week. All that was left was for him to get into character. He sighed once, not even bothering to beg, knowing it would do no good, and opened his mouth for the nipple to be inserted. While he had never been nursed by his mother because of her respect for what little dignity he had, those tormentors that Petie so frequently encountered were less considerate, and the little bear had a firm grasp of how to get milk out of a bottle without making it look obviously like suckling. Despite this, he found it nearly impossible not to look the perfect nursing baby, whether because of his round face and lack of teeth, or because of some charm of the mismagius he didn’t know, what he did know was that, once he had started, nothing in the world could stop him. More than once Petie tried to pull away from the bottle, his mouth getting tired from the constant suckling, but his muscles refused to obey him as they so often did.
Even after the milk had, every drop, disappeared down his gullet, Petie still suckled on the empty bottle until finally his caretaker removed it from his mouth.
“Very good, sweetie!” she cooed, “and no fuss at all, such a perfect little baby boy, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”
Petie blushed at the comments, but being cooed at was nothing new for him and he didn’t pay it much heed, much more pressing matters were at hand. Nearly as soon as the nursing bottle had left his mouth, Petie had started feeling queer in his belly, and couldn’t help but wiggle around in the mismagius’ lap and babble a bit. It wasn’t painful, but very uncomfortable. So much so that he didn’t even notice as the mismagius picked him up under the arms and slung him over her shoulder, still wiggling like a worm, and started lightly patting his back.
Petie belched suddenly and without any conscious thought, the discomfort alleviated almost instantly, and only realized in retrospect what had happened, his every social inclination telling him to get out of this mad mismagius’ clutches before it was too late, but his young and growing brain telling him how totally impossible it was. Him, a small, stunted, insignificant teddiursa, somehow to take on a fully grown and evolved ghost type? There was no chance, and he knew it. He would simply have to tank through whatever the mismagius decided by whim to throw at him.
Petie had managed to dribble milk all down his face and onto the bib, which had never been removed, and his caretaker took attention to this. “You messy little thing, lets get you cleaned up, then you can have playtime, alright?” The idea of playtime, the chance to move around of his own will, however little it was, and collect himself seemed very desirable to Petie, who nodded enthusiastically and babbled some gibberish in reply. “Good boy.”
The mismagius was true to her word, and, after a thorough wiping down of his face and bib, the plastic covered shield was removed and Petie was set down into the playpen, his caretaker reclining in the arm chair to watch him wander about miserably. Despite his first impression of the diaper’s thickness, Petie found that he could crawl, though precariously, and used his pitiful mobility to put as much distance between him and the mismagius as was feasible. In the far corner, right below the window, was a stuffy of a teddiursa, of all things, though, at a glance, it was a female. Petie crawled over to it, curious and having nothing better to do, and was shocked to find that it bore a strange resemblance to Petie, himself.
Petie flushed ruby red and tried to crawl away, only to be hoisted up into the air by the mismagius again, who grinned in triumph. “I should have seen it right away,” she said, looking smug, “you would look perfectly precious in a dress, now wouldn’t you?” Petie went grave white at the very suggestion, and, after a moment of shock, started to squirm tremendously. It did nothing to weaken the bigger pokemon’s grip on him, but only made him feel the helpless position he had been pressed into all the more as he was dragged back to the changing table and set down on his bottom. The mismagius masterfully pressed Petie’s torso and legs to the table with her hands, bent over the helpless bear and started rasperrying him, occasionally rubbing his sensitive and chubby belly with her nose. After this came the tickles. Just as soon as she had gotten Petie’s overalls off, the ghost type set about running her thin, agile fingers up and down the little bear’s vulnerable and highly ticklish sides, leaving him giggling powerlessly and thrashing about in her grip.
Petie didn’t know how long the trial by tickle lasted for, and was a shivering, giggling mess by the end of it, completely oblivious of the sad state that his diaper was in.
“My gosh, and I thought you wouldn’t need another change all day!” Startled, Petie watched and felt as his unwanted caretaker poked, prodded, and squeezed the front of his diaper, setting the teddiursa cub squirming like a champ as it squished… Petie despised having people squish his diapers, he saw it as poking fun at his humiliating special need in the worst of ways. “Sheesh, let’s get you into something dry, little soaker.”
Normally Petie would have been embarrassed at the teasing remark, especially since it wasn’t calling him a toddler or a baby or something he could deny, but was intentionally striking a nerve that he couldn’t possibly say wasn’t true. He needed diapers, and he needed them because he would soak his pants otherwise, but the little bear ware more than happy to endure the remark if it meant getting out of the drenched pamper, sagging heavily between his legs. She was prompt and professional about it, tearing the tapes on either wing of the diaper and balling the two up as one. Despite them being nearly twice the thickness of Petie’s normal diapers, his change in size himself taken into account, he had managed to total them in under a couple of hours, and had no memory of any of it that went further than feeling a little warm and damp between his legs. It was a humiliation, and, for once, Petie was longing for his normal level of incontinence, where he could tell he needed to wet, but just couldn’t hold it for very long.
He sat and aired out a while, happy to be out of the heavy, squishy thing, but, when the time came for his new caretaker to diaper him up again, he didn’t resist, letting the mismagius pick up his legs, put the diaper underneath him, set him down upon it, powder him, lotion him, and tape it up around his waist. Petie had never been so happy to be in a diaper, if only because one was only a tenth as restrictive as two.
“Awww, does my little princess like her new diaper?” the mismagius cooed, giggling, and Petie froze, looking at the thing that she had put him in. It was pink, and printed with little hearts all over.
“Naaahhh waaaahhh, naaahawaaaah!” Petie screamed, starting to careen in the horrific way that only a baby can. Being a baby was one thing, and he had long grown used to the frequent cutting remarks and associations between him and a toddler, but being a baby girl!? That he couldn’t handle, and he made his unwillingness to allow himself to me made into a princess keenly felt by all present by screaming as only an infant can, lethal at close range, that was until he was silenced by a pretty pink pacifier with a rose petal shaped shield pushed into his mouth by the mismagius caretaker. He tried to spit it out, but, just as before, it went nowhere in a hurry, Petie finding himself suckling on it helplessly, his anger and frustration melting away in the childish calm brought on by a pacifier.
“That’s a good girl,” Petie’s caretaker cooed, scratching his belly as he wiggled what little he could, “such a good, quiet, little girl. Now, let’s get you all dressed up, sweetie.”
Petie felt on the verge of tears, the knowledge that he was about to, as was so frequently the case, have someone else’s will forced upon him for their petty enjoyment, and his humiliating loss, and that he was totally, utterly powerless to resist was almost enough for him to lose all hope. His body again thwarted his attempts to make it function normally, only wiggling in place when he would have sat up and tried to crawl away, even if just to give the illusion that he was a fighter, and wouldn’t let these things happen to him without a fuss.
The mismagius was gone for a few minutes, digging through a closet in another room somewhere, but, when she returned, supplies in hand, Petie’s little eyes went wide. “Do you like the dress I picked out for you, sweet little flower?” The thing looked like a sundress, lemon yellow and covered in flower shaped patches. Just looking at the thing hurt Petie’s eyes, and he shook his head in denial of the entire situation. He had been pressed into wearing more embarrassing things, sure, but this was certainly up there. He wiggled as the mismagius pulled it over his head, but could not resist. The hem of the dress didn’t even cover his pink diaper, which stuck out visibly from underneath. Following the dress came a pair of green booties and mittens, clearly designed to look like the leaves of the flower he had been dressed up to look like, and fastened to his wrists and ankles by little straps, clearly designed to keep naughty little babies like him from trying to remove their clothes without permission.
Petie sighed around his pacifier at this. It was far from his first time in booties and mittens, and, under normal circumstances, he would have been able to operate more or less normally with them on. While in his useless baby body, however, the level of resistance he could manage shrank from very little to none at all.
“Awww, there’s my precious little wildflower. Aren’t you just a doll?” the mismagius said, stepping back to admire her handiwork before holding up a small hand mirror to Petie, just so that he could get a look at himself in the dress. “But there’s something missing…” Petie’s caretaker said, patting her chin, “aha! That hair is still too boyish. If I didn’t mean to let you go this evening I’d dye it blonde and be done with it, but I guess I don’t have that luxury, so a wig will have to suffice.” She giggled at Petie’s squirming, always having considered wigs to be one of the worst parts of sissydom. Nevertheless, as was nearly always the case, things went ahead without Petie’s consent or compliance, and, within a minute, the mismagius had returned from the closet once again, a wig of long golden curls, goldilocks style, with a bright yellow bow already tied on to a pink butterfly clip and clipped into the hair. Trembling, Petie submitted to having the thing pulled over his head and fitted into place. The whole thing was elastic, and sat snugly and tightly over Petie’s tuft of hair, concealing his last boyish attribute from any who would look on. “D’aaawwwww,” she cooed, scratching behind Petie’s ears and on his neon yellow belly, “who’s my little flower child? You are, that’s right, you are.”
Without another word, the mismagius picked Petie up under the arms, slung him over her shoulder, and whisked him away to what certainly would amount to further torments in one form or another. In the next room, the one directly adjacent to the main room, Petie got glimpse of possibly the most horrifying thing he would ever in his life witness. In the center of the room was a circular carpet. In the center of the carpet was a pink, square plastic table, the kind that Fisher Pryce made, and, on that square plastic table, was the setup that all little girls loved and all little boys dreaded: a tea party.
“Naaahahahahaaawww!” Petie wailed around his pacifier, beating on his caretaker’s legs and sniffling, tears starting to form in the corner of his eyes. He wouldn’t even get to use a real chair, so it seemed. The table had been built for kids of five to ten, and was much too tall for someone of Petie’s current size to sit at properly. No, Petie would be sitting in a little girl’s highchair, and he would be forced to sit through a tea party. Clearly some higher power had it out for Petie, the little guy never seeming to manage a whole day without some terrible thing happening to him or other.
Fussing as ever he could in his life, Petie was set down into the plastic baby’s highchair and strapped in at the waist and legs in case he had any smart ideas of trying to crawl out. He crossed his arms across his poofy shouldered dress and tried to look defiant as the mismagius took up positions across from the little sissy, grinning as warmly as ever she might.
“Would you like some tea, princess?” the mismagius asked, offering Petie an empty teacup full of imaginary refreshments, the thing set upon a heart-shaped platter. It was despicable, and, in a fit of temper that he couldn’t repress, Petie slapped the plastic cup off his high-chair’s table, totally red in the face with anger and looking like he would gum his way through the plastic, walls, doors, baby fences, and anything else that got between him and freedom before he would suffer through a bloody tea party. But, alas, there was nothing to be had of it, and Petie’s caretaker, always the master of fussy children, was perfectly happy to simply sit and wait out Petie’s temper tantrum before pouring the exhausted and pouty cub another cup of tea and setting it upon his table. Sighing in defeat, Petie reached for it. “Oh, no, no, Princess. You’ll get tea all over your pretty dress!” the mismagius exclaimed, earning a look of blank contempt from Petie as she endeavored to pick up his cup for him and let him sip the imaginary brew in mixed shame, silence, and outrage. It was getting to the point that humiliation and shame were giving way to frustration and anger within Petie, made worse by the fact that the tension had nowhere to go. Who the heck was this Pokemon? What did she think she was doing, forcing all of this onto him? Sure, she must have been bored, having nothing to do but to haunt this old daycare forever, but did that give her the right to torture him like this? Petie didn’t think so, obviously, the mismagius was of a different mind entirely.
The tea party lasted a while, Petie’s caretaker taking every opportunity to lecture him about proper etiquette and manners, while at the same time displaying none herself. Eventually, after she was sure that she could trust Petie not to holler in pain again, the mismagius even removed his pacifier to let him gum on a biscuit, which he liked.
“There, now, has my little baby girl had enough?” the mismagius asked, Petie lolling in his highchair. The tea-party had gone on for an hour or more, and, having the sleep schedule of a newborn, now, Petie was nearly ready to pass out on the spot. “Let’s get you into your crib, little one.”
Petie’s caretaker carefully lifted him from his seat, and carried the little baby teddiursa out and into one of the private bedrooms, this one clearly befitting a princess. It had pearly pink wallpaper with royal trim at the top and the bottom, and posters covered in princesses, dress models, and all manner of other girly things. There was a big pink dresser, surely filled with things of an embarrassing nature for one such as Petie, and a changing table atop it, onto which the mismagius dropped Petie. He wiggled a bit as his caretaker undressed him, again, leaving only the mittens, booties and wig, depositing the dress into a hamper next to the dresser before pulling out his next garment: a bright pink lacey onesie, covered head to toe with hearts in different shades of lavender, more suited to a queen of the ball than to a teenage boy, or even the baby body that he had been forced into!
Petie wanted to look grumpy, the only petty resistance he could manage, but there wasn’t really anything to it. He was tired, and if letting himself be dressed up in the hideous onesie brought him one step closer to naptime, he was willing to make that sacrifice. The mismagius did the arms up trick with the little baby, who raised his paws unhappily but obediently, letting her slip the tickly and lacy sleeper over his head with minimal fuss. He was shocked to find that it blended with his fur, and, even when the crotch flap had been buttoned up, left his heavily padded rear, now frilly in addition to being in a diaper, mostly exposed and visible to the naked eye. It didn’t really matter, though, he knew, yawning loudly as he was picked up, cradled in the bigger pokemon’s arms before being deposited into the waiting silky soft blankets of the crib. The mismagius tucked him in firmly, Petie drowsing even before she struck the lights, closed the blinds, kissed him on the cheek lovingly, pulled up the bars and latching them tight, sure to keep a teddiursa with wandering thoughts at bay, before smiling warmly at the nostalgia of times passed and quitting the room entirely, leaving Petie to his nap.

Petie wasn’t really sure how long he had slept, so used to being forced to doze in a crib that it didn’t even shock him to wake up looking at the world through a set of bars, seemingly ten feet high on all sides. He suckled on his pacifier, still partially dazed, the memories of his pre-nap hours coming back to him shortly.
“Aggabewboo…” Petie mumbled into his pacifier, realizing that he was still in the mismagius’ clutches, and, by the height of the sun behind the curtains, would likely suffer many more a humiliation before day’s end. He sighed, rolling over in his thick, soaked padding and realizing he had, as was so often the case, soaked his bed while he slept. It had grown less and less frequent over the years as Petie grew, but he still had little better bladder control than a four year old, and that applied to sleep, as well. In general, Petie could expect two dry nights a week, and five wet ones, but that was in his normal, runty fourteen year old body. In this one, the toddling infant body that the mismagius had forced him into for her own amusement, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to manage a single one, and could expect no more fewer than seven wet nights a week, perhaps more with naptimes taken into account.
But Petie was far, far too groggy to realize all of this at once, and, over the course of the better part of half an hour, the day’s events came back to him, the blurry edges of the images coming into focus and reminding him of what he had suffered, and likely would continue to suffer, until the mismagius would finally let him go.
“Wakey wakey, sleepy head!” Petie’s unwilling caretaker said, entering his girly, fluff filled room and dispelling the remains of his stupor with words. The little teddiursa, still dressed up like a baby princess, started fully awake, and looked ready to cry from the sudden shock, wiggling in his pink covers, his pacifier having fallen from his mouth as he slept. “Hot sheesh, you did a number on that diaper, didn’t you? You little stinker, you,” she said affectionately, and it took Petie a moment to comprehend. He wet the bed, sure, but he had never messed a diaper while he was asleep! It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t be! He’d have felt it, right? Right? “Come on. Best we get you changed before you get yourself a rash, little one,” the mismagius said, plopping Petie down onto the laminated plastic squishy diaper seat first and proving true all of his worst fears. He wasn’t just messy, but very much so, and the icky splotching noises he made as he squished in it turned his guts.
The bigger pokemon hummed a calming tune to Petie as she untapped his diaper, the changing ritual now very well rehearsed between the two, and the cleaning took less time than Petie would have expected for a messing of that side… not that Petie would admit that he knew how long a messy diaper took to clean up. Nevertheless, the mismagius knew her work, and had the little baby all clean and diapered up again, this time in boyish colors, and ready to receive his next outfit. Compared to the dress he had been forced to endure earlier, the thin blue onesie that he was being offered was the height of male fashion, and Petie was almost eager to be dressed in it, not offering the slightest hint of resistance and even helping where he could. In short order, he was dressed up in his onesie and a cute little hand woven cap, and, as always, was carried over his caretaker’s shoulder out into the main room. She stopped by the front entrance, and opened up a closet against the far wall. Inside were six or seven strollers in all shapes and sized, one clearly built for two children as opposed to one. The one that the mismagius picked was plain white with a red seat, gender neutral enough to not elicit resistance from Petie but babyish enough that she was satisfied, also. Strapping the baby into the stroller wasn’t as easy as it looked, considering Petie, always resistant to being bound into things, fought tooth and nail to prevent her, though he had neither. In the end, greater size and patience won out, and Petie was strapped securely into his stroller. Without further hesitation, the two disappeared out the front door of the daycare and down the path towards the city. Even from the outside the Daycare looked clean and well kept. New, even, and Petie could tell their destination even as they crested the hill.
The family park and playground that sat at the bottom of the hill that the daycare was situated on had been torn down shortly after the Daycare had burnt up, most of its use having come from the small children that went to the daycare. Despite this, Petie had had some experience with the place when he was littler, though nothing particularly memorable. Clearly using her psychic power to give memories physical form, though Petie was still too shocked and confused to know or realize, the mismagius wheeled the little bear in the stroller down to the park and stopped at the edge of the sand pit that the playground had been built upon. For a moment Petie felt optimistic. Maybe she would let him play on the playground, or use the slide, or build a sandcastle! He wiggled happily, fiddling with the straps that held him securely in the stroller, imagining all the fun he would be able to have, here. But it was not to be.
Upon reaching the playground, the mismagius was happy to simply wheel Petie over to the nearest bench and sit idly, watching several of the other, bigger children play around on the swings and the monkey bars and the slide. The little teddiursa felt slightly betrayed. Why dress him up, bring him all the way down here, and then make him sit, helpless, and watch other kids play while he could not? That simply wasn’t fair!
“Naahhaannaa! Baawaagaga!” Petie babbled, his mouth failing to spit English yet again, and only managing the incoherent noises of a baby. It did its job, though, and the mismagius grinned, looking at him.
“Does the little tot want to play on the swings?” she asked, grinning. Petie nodded hurriedly. He did want to play on the swings, very much so, especially if it meant he got to be pushed… he hadn’t been pushed on swings in years, and everyone knew that it was much more fun to have someone push you than to try and swing yourself.
The mismagius unbuckled her stead, carrying him over to the swingset, then plopped him down not into one of the normal swings, as he had assumed, but into one of the full harness baby swings that all small children dread. As though that weren’t enough, left dangling and wiggling in his already wet diaper and the baby swing, she barely pushed him!
With the scant force that the mismagius applied to him, Petie only moved about a foot back and forth in either direction, a huge disappointment when he could clearly see kids flying to either side… life was so unfair.
“Wana go higher?” Petie’s caretaker said, not even waiting for an answer before pushing him a bit more, the ride suddenly becoming much more exciting, his small body reacting much more intensely to the activity than under normal circumstances, and, after fifteen minutes of squealing with pleasure, Petie, tired again, was pulled from the swing, and promptly strapped back into his stroller. “Great fun, huh?”
Petie nodded, fully satisfied, his caretaker pushing the stroller back up the winding path towards the daycare. The little bear was humming with enjoyment by the time they got back, the mismagius and Petie grinning in unison, though the prior held a somber heart. A quick glance at the sun showed that it was almost sunset, and time for her to let Petie return home. She would need to say goodbye, soon, but there was still time enough for one last intimate moment between them. The mismagius had warmed Petie’s nursing bottle before they had left, so it was all ready when she unbuckled the baby teddiursa from the stroller. Without the slightest hesitation, though much due reverence, she carried the again drowsing toddler over to the nursing chair, and let him snuggle himself into her lap comfortable. Then, as before, she offered the nipple of the bottle to Petie, who took it into his mouth without a second thought, suckling as contently as any newborn that she had ever fed.
The moment passed too soon, unfortunately, and the bottle, empty as it had been before she had filled it, was set next to the chair on the floor. The mismagius stood, and got out Petie’s last change of clothes: a simple pair of toddler overalls with a crotch flap for diaper changes, and a pair of kiddy shoes with cartoonish animals on it. Petie, too drowsy to do more than act mechanically, let himself be dressed up, not even realizing that he had returned to his normal size and shape, that of a severely undergrown fourteen year old who still needed diapers, or that the walls had started to loose their color, going grey and sooty. Petie stood under his own power, the thickness of his diaper, changed into a generic but dry one just before his dressing, more than manageable, now, for the first time since midmorning. He started to waddle towards the door on impulse, knowing full well that he was in for a lecture as soon as his mother realized how late it was, but was stopped by the mismagius, who grinned at him one last time.
“Don’t forget this, sweetie,” she said, handing him a cartoonish plastic backpack with some legendary pokemon or other printed on, filled with all the babyish things that he would need, and patted his padded bottom, opening the door, now fire blackened upon its broken hinges as it had been that morning, letting the little ball of color in the world of grey waddle away from this place. She watched him go through one of the broken windows, knowing that, just as had been the plan, his whole experience here would seem little closer to him than a dream. But she had also planted a seed in him. One day, under proper circumstances, Petie would want to return to this place, she had made sure it would be so, and they would play together again, the one thing in the world she had to look forward to.

Some time later, long after Petie had disappeared from the mismagius’ view, walking home mechanically, he snapped out of his daze to the sound of giggling behind him. He turned on a dime, curious to see what was happening, and realized that it was someone laughing at him, though they were trying to be discrete about it, and moved along as soon as they realized they had been overheard. Petie shook his head in confusion, looking around, and then caught sight of himself in the mirror.
“Huh!?” Petie said, pacifier dropping from between his teeth as he caught himself in the mirrored glass. How the heck had had all that gotten there?! The last solid thing he remembered, he had been at school, bragging about how there were no ghosts in the old daycare… And now he was here, several hours missing from his memory, dressed up in a snug pair of overalls with a cartoon printed blue T-shirt underneath, the garments just tight enough to show his noticeable diaper bulging between his legs, manageable, but still much larger than he would wear under regular circumstances. His backpack had changed, too. His normal one was bland and lifeless, and he left it at school whenever he could, but this one, too, was different… and it crinkled. Petie sighed deeply, shaking his head. Something told him that he would find out one day what had happened to him, but, today, he just felt happy to be alive, and the kindergarten student that looked back at him in the shiny glass wasn’t frowning, he was smiling, chubby cheeks blushing and content, and, paying no attention to his appearance, he shouldered his backpack again and continued waddling on home, diaper crinkling between his legs, literally walking westwards into the setting sun.