Seems Too Good to be True (Diaper Dimension)

by: Baby Sofia | Complete Story | Last updated Dec 19, 2021

Chapter 10

MY MIND STARTED to become aware of a voice calling, “Come on Holly, time to wake up…”

‘Who’s Holly?’ I thought for a second before opening my eyes and realizing I was still in the middle of my ill-thought adventure.

“Come on sleepy head,” I realized Ivy was saying.

I opened my eyes and looked down at the sleeper I was in. As I rolled out of bed and she said, “Come on, let’s use the potty and then we can get you moving for the day with breakfast,” she told me.

I stood and sort of followed her half-asleep still and tried to pull the footie I was wearing off, but couldn’t get the flap that was hiding the zipper loose. “Let me get that,” she told me and unzipped the sleeper.

As she did it my mind fired several thoughts at once. ‘Why does my underwear feel cold? Why am I in a diaper?’ and then a second later, “What the hell? I wet the diaper?!?!”

I looked down and it was soaked and bulked up. “That’s why the diapers,” she told me gently as she knelt in front of me. “I’m sorry sweetheart, but this happens.”

“But I’m not a baby…” I complained, a tear rolled out of my eye before I could stop it.

“It’s okay sweetie, let’s get that wet diapee off and see if you need to do any more on the potty,” she told me while pulling me free of the footie. I stood in front of the potty in the swollen cold diaper and tried to pull on the tapes myself. I couldn’t make any progress to loosen it, no matter how hard I pulled on the tab. “Let me sweetie,” she told me, pulling the diaper loose and gathering it in her hands.

I sat down on the potty and managed to pee a little still, but couldn’t deny that I was now the bedwetter that she’d told me I might become. I began crying, ‘What the hell was I thinking?!?!’

Ivy gently patted my shoulder, “It’s okay Holly, it’s okay!”

I sat there sobbing on the potty for a few minutes before she said, “Are you done?”

I slowly breathed, and got my composure together, before nodding and standing up with tears still streaming from my eyes. She held a baby wipe in her hand and reached down to make contact with my skin. The wipe was cold and I felt more embarrassed as she cleaned my groin like a baby who needed a diaper change… ‘Like I needed…’

“Shhh…” she reassured me when she was done and gathered me in her arms in a hug, “It’s okay, we knew this could happen and that’s why you were wearing protection. That’s the only thing that got wet, so it’s okay!” She bounced a little like with a baby and kept trying to soothe me. I was so embarrassed by this, but her rocking and soothing comments eventually made a difference I guess as I calmed down.

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

“For what?”

“For being such a baby?” I said.

She hugged me tighter, “It’s okay, I would be upset too! Now how about we finish drying that face, put on your big girl panties and move on from this?”

I looked at her and nodded.

She carried me to my room and sat me down on the ground next to my dresser. She reached in and handed me a pair of panties we bought the day before. I looked at them skeptically, “You’re really still letting me wear these?”

“I told you I would let you wear them until three strikes Holly. I also told you when you’re asleep doesn’t count. So as far as I’m concerned your daytime track record is still perfect.”

“Thanks,” I told her, still shaken.

“Let’s get you dressed, what do you want to wear today?”

“Are shorts and a t-shirt an option now?” I asked tentatively. I noticed most of her choices of clothing had leaned towards the girlier side of things.

“Sure,” she said, digging for a second to find me a pair of jean shorts that had rhinestones and an applique unicorn on them. She found a baby doll style t-shirt to match that she handed to me. I dressed in the clothes and felt a little bit better as I padded after her to the dining room. When I stood beside the dining table, she picked me up and sat me in the high chair.

“Toast or oatmeal this morning?” she asked me.

“Both?” I suggested.

“Cinnamon in your oatmeal?”

“And a little brown sugar if you have it?”

She smiled at me, “give me just a minute.”

My eyes were drawn to a medical journal sitting on the table just out of my arms reach. It looked like it was similar to the New England Journal back home, something I had always enjoyed reading to discover the latest research. I looked up to see Ivy had just pulled a small bowl out of the microwave. She stirred it for a second and then brought it over to sit it on the tray in front of me. A second later she put a small plate with a giant piece of toast she had cut up into four triangles.

I looked at the oatmeal and noticed from the color that she’d used milk as its base, instead of water like I grew up with. I made a bit of a face, “What?” She asked me.

“I normally just use water to make my oatmeal… it’s the way I grew up.” I added

“Try it?”

I nodded and took the spoon she gave me and tried a bite of it. I quickly took another bite of it, and another, “This is a lot better than any oatmeal I’ve ever had before!” I told her honestly as I found myself quickly guzzling the contents of the bowl down.

She patted my head, “Glad to hear it,” she smiled at me over a cup of coffee.

I briefly thought about asking for my own cup, but instead just continued on with the bowl of mushy oatmeal. ‘Why does this taste so good?’ I asked myself. ‘Is it the cinnamon?’ I wondered… ‘Maybe it’s their brown sugar?’

I couldn’t help but finish the entire bowl before I even considered a drink from my sippy cup. I decided the juice inside it was enough instead of coffee, and began munching on a slice of toast even though my belly was feeling bloated from the oatmeal.

“You really liked that huh?” She asked me.

“It was really good!” I told her.

“Well I’ll try and make it for breakfast for you fairly often then!” she told me with a smile.

“You know I can make my own food too.”

Ivy just smiled in reply, “Maybe some other time, but I like spoiling you.”

I managed two of the quarters of the one slice before my stomach said, ‘no more.’

“That’s all for me I guess,” I told her after wearily looking at the last two pieces.

“You don’t have to eat everything I put down,” she told me with a giggle. “It’s going to take us a while to figure out what portion sizes you actually eat.”

I nodded, “So what are we doing today?” I asked her.

“I figured we could just have an easy day here and get you settled in the rest of the way. Maybe you can read one of those books you were eyeing yesterday in my office?”

“Yes please!” I said enthusiastically.

She came and picked me up out of the high chair and carried me over to the sink so I could wash my hands. I wiped my face off a second later with the damp paper towel I had used to dry my hands. Ivy carried me into her office and asked, “What do you want to start with?”

I looked at the massive shelf and asked, “You’re in pediatrics, right?”

She nodded, “That’s my main focus.”

“What was the first pediatrics specific text you had in med school?”

She smiled at me when I asked this before scanning through the shelves, “Here, I think this is it,” she told me. ‘Academy of Pediatrics Guide to Pediatric and Little Care - Eighth Edition’ was the label on the cover. Just the cover alone reminded me of a text from college in my home dimension as she handed it to me.

“This feels like a concrete brick!” I said as I hefted the large book in my hands. I guessed it was probably twenty percent of my new weight! I remembered that my books in medical school weren’t light books either.

She laughed, “It’s definitely not light reading! Why don’t I carry it to the couch and you can lay on it and read?”

“Sounds good… but maybe I’ll visit the bathroom first?” I suggested nervously, “I’m feeling a little paranoid after last night.”

She squeezed me tight as she carried me and the book to set it down on the couch, before carrying me to the bathroom. “Don’t worry so much, it was one time and it was at night. I don’t think you’ll have any problems while you’re awake.”

“I wish I shared your optimism,” I told her sadly. “I’ve never had any problems before…”

She squeezed me again and sat me down on the ground next to the potty. I pulled down my shorts and the dry panties and urine piddled out in the potty for a while. ‘I guess that I really needed to go more than I thought…’

As she washed my hands I said, “Hopefully that keeps problems from happening…”

She hugged me and sat me on the couch where I flopped down on my stomach and flipped open the textbook. I began at the beginning and started skimming through the text, noting that most of the information paralleled my own dimension. Every now and then though ‘littles’ got small notes speaking about different care that should be given versus the normal pediatric patients. I was in one section and felt my bones chill at a note there:

Little digestive systems are often negatively impacted by their feeding habits. Littles may face severe chronic constipation or dehydration due to poor dietary choices (especially unadopted littles). Many full-grown littles have been shown to be much healthier when their diets have been simplified to pureed foods, or with breastmilk/formula only. Research shows that littles who are healthiest are almost always fed a diet consisting primarily of breastmilk. For those littles under the care of adults who prefer to have them remain eating the same diet as the parents are, it is strongly recommended that the food be pureed before feeding them. Or, at the very least ensure that a rectal suppository is used at least twice a week for their bowel health.

‘What the fuck?!?’ I thought to myself. ‘This is an accepted medical text… and it basically says I should be eating baby food and breastmilk? Or sticking suppositories up my ass twice a week?!?!’

That little messed up paragraph started me on a hunt for all of the little oriented comments in the book. Some made sense to me as they addressed adolescence, menopause, and other adult health issues. The difference with skeletal issues since ‘full-grown’ littles bones were already fused and done growing, versus a genuine kid who was still growing was well documented. Other sections though dealt with far darker issues, including the validity of teeth removal, breast removal, gender change operations, and worst of all - ‘mobility therapy.’

I had nearly vomited when I read of a ‘standard’ procedure that involved cutting and shortening tendons to prevent the little from walking. Another went even further and even affected the arms to prevent a little from even crawling - it was suggested as a more invasive procedure for serious cases of littles self-harming or running away. My face must have been showing just how awful I thought it was because Ivy asked, “What are you making that face for?”

I sat up and looked at her, ‘How much can I say…? She’s been relatively kind to me so far, but she forced a gender change on me without asking… and I haven’t exactly seen her going off on the atrocities I’ve been seeing…’

Deciding, ‘what the hell?’ I told her, “I’m reading about a procedure of shortening tendons so that a little can only crawl?” as neutrally as I could.

She grimaced, “That book is a little dated now… the procedure has changed…”

“But they still do that to littles?” I paused while she nodded, “Why would you do that to any living being?”

She sighed and came to join me on the couch sitting on the opposite side. “Look, I was honest with you the other day and I’m going to continue to be. Amazons really do want their littles to be their babies… right down to the details,” she said looking at my face. I felt at my own morphed face, and she looked uncomfortable, “As a culture it’s become normal that moms want their littles to behave like they are at a certain stage of development. For some a preschooler who’s at least partially potty-trained works for them. That might be especially true for those who don’t like changing dirty diapers all the time. Many others want a toddler who can still walk, uses diapers as their bathroom, but normally gets fed the same things a normal toddler eats.”

“What’s the point of a little who can only crawl?” I asked.

“Well, if you want a little who’s the stage of a nine-month-old infant - or younger, it destroys the illusion of them being a real baby if they’re running around like an adult.” She paused, “Most often I see that procedure used when a little has made too many escape attempts.”

My eyes widened and without filtering asked, “Is that something you think is appropriate? Would you…” I nervously paused and trembled, “Would you do that to me?”

She scooted over and scooped me up without warning and gave me a hug. I shook even more in the hands of this giant who clearly held my fate in her hands, looking up at her big green eyes, “No, not in a million years would I do that to you or anyone. I’ve turned down requests to perform that procedure every time I’ve ever been asked.”

I found myself believing her in that one instance. I guessed this was her real truthful face because it looked different and more passionate. “Promise?” I asked.

“Promise,” she said and squeezed me in a hug.

“I still don’t get the point of you all babying everyone,” I told her as I now found myself balancing on her knee with her hands behind my back holding me.

“I told you it’s pretty much genetic…”

“I get that you all would want to maybe start with them as a baby doll or something, but year in and year out… Most parents I’ve known, and parents of patients I’ve had, have always been thrilled to be done changing diapers. They might do the chore, but most sigh with relief when they’ve been able to throw the diapers away… How could they want to change diapers forever?”

She looked at me thoughtfully and said, “There are some that will try and potty train their littles after a while.”


“Some succeed… and sometimes after that they might even release them and nullify the adoption letting them ‘grow up’ and leave the nest.’”

“What happens then?”

“Well for the population's sake it usually results in them connecting with another free little, and that’s where most of our natural births of littles will occur in this dimension.”

“Are there any that don’t end up being adopted at some point?”

“Rarely…” she said, “Most littles end up adopted… some manage to escape even... but some when they get old enough, usually in their forties when they begin looking less like a child, will be released if their parents don’t have treatments done.”


“Do you have face lifts in your dimension?”

I nodded, “lots of plastic surgery options. I think a couple years ago I saw a statistic saying it was about a Sixteen Billion Dollar industry for that year. If all you care about is money, it’s the specialty to go into.”

“Wow… It’s probably the same or more here, but that is insane! Ours is more focused on rejuvenation tech with nanites. We can make an elderly littles face and skin morph back into that of a newborn if we want.”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Does the same work on internal organs?”

“To some degree, but the tech is still maturing there. Heart failure, strokes, and organ failure have tended to result in the fatalities of most still. Bone disorders and muscle breakdown are up there too.”

“How much older do they live?”

“Average lifespan for an unadopted little is probably 75-85 years old. Non-rejuvenated littles tend to live a bit longer, about 110 with the better medical care they receive.”

“And the others?”

“Rejuvenation has only been out on the market for about ten years, but early studies are showing a life extension of at least another fifteen years.”

“But… one-hundred-and-twenty-five years of being a baby… Is that even a life worth living?” I posited.

She looked at me thoughtfully, “For some it might be. No bills, no job, no stress of work, just hours on end of relaxing and doing nothing while every need for them is taken care of.”

“But sitting there doing nothing but defecating on yourself, being forced to eat food that’s inedible for no real reason, and mutilated…?” I paused, hoping I wasn’t pushing it given the changes she’d made to me, “How can that seem like a living? Surely if it was so great… wouldn’t your kind be putting themselves into diapers?”

She sighed, “Look… I’m not perfect… and I’m sorry if you feel like I mutilated you…”

I sat and stared at her waiting for the next words, hoping it wasn’t a massive ‘but…’

“I… can’t say that I regret that as you sit here… but I do promise I won’t make any other modifications to your body like that. I will never do anything to you with your teeth or mobility…”

“I’m going to have to hope you’re telling me the truth,” I told her sadly. “So, from what I read though, pretty much all littles see pediatricians even though they’re adults?”

“Some pediatricians specialize in geriatric little care too,” she told me, “but for the most part that’s correct.”

“How many things are misdiagnosed because of that?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Well in my dimension there are certain conditions that just don’t happen normally under fifteen years of age or so, let alone age two - so we have a misdiagnosis every now and then when a rare case comes up. If you have a fifty-year-old being treated with the same assumptions as a two-year-old…?”

“You know… I honestly don’t think we’ve ever researched that,” she told me.

I continued to ask her questions and quizzed her about every relevant medical topic I had read in that book. One of those was more about the teeth, “Why do so many littles have their teeth removed?”

“Your teeth can’t pierce our skin, but it still hurts like hell to be bitten with them,” she told me honestly. “Also, it helps make little speech patterns more babyish without the teeth to use your tongue against.”

I squirmed at that thought even though she promised to leave me alone. Eventually she looked at her watch and said, “I guess we should think about lunch here soon. How about grilled cheese sandwiches?”

I shrugged, “That’s fine, you don’t have to go through that much trouble,” I added.

She smiled as she scooted me to the edge of the couch and sat me beside her, “It’s not that big of a deal,” she told me with a smile.

As she stood, I realized I had no idea how long we’d been sitting there and decided to hit the bathroom. I sat down on the potty before I realized I was going to be short on toilet paper. Her roll of toilet paper hanging next to her adult toilet was hanging down enough though that I was able to quickly grab a few pieces before sitting back down. Urine tinkled into the potty and generated the stupid congratulations sound effect. ‘I should find the batteries and rip them out,’ I thought.

When I was done, I wiped myself and pulled my shorts and panties back up. I had no way of reaching the sink and was contemplating how I could wash my hands when she came in, “Need a lift to the sink?” she asked with a smile.

“Please,” I told her.

She picked me up and held me so I could wash my hands before setting me back down on the ground and emptying my potty into the toilet. She rinsed it out really quickly and washed her own hands. “Lunch is almost ready,” she told me and followed me out of the bathroom to the dining table. Without asking she picked me up and sat me in the high chair, moving my arms into the harness straps and buckling me in securely.

Soon she brought over a set of large triangles of grilled cheese sandwiches on a plastic plate to set down on the tray in front of me. “Here,” she told me before adding, “here’s some milk to drink too,” she added setting the sippy cup on the tray.

I made a face.

“Milk is good for you,” she smirked at me, “you can’t just drink juice unless you want to be a fat little.”

I groaned, “Water is fine too,” I told her.

“True, but the milk really is needed while your body acclimates to this dimension,” she told me.

I looked at it and took a tentative sip from the cup.

It didn’t taste like any milk I’d ever had before! I took a second sip and debated downing the whole cup, but restrained myself. “What kind of milk is this?”

“Tabers milk,” she told me.

“What is that? Some animal like a goat?” I asked.

“Bit larger creature,” she told me with a smile, “but kind of I guess.”

I took a bite of the grilled cheese and soon found myself in a rhythm of drinking the milk and eating the grilled cheese. I noticed that the milk was filling me up quicker than the bites from the sandwich I was eating. I also noticed that I was getting kind of tired as I finished the last of the cup.

“Want more?” she asked.

I shook my head, “It’s good, but I think I need to lie down for a while. These longer days I guess are getting to me.”

She smiled, “Nothing wrong with admitting that. Why don’t we take you by the potty first?”

I nodded and watched as she pulled the plate half-eaten off the tray, pulled it free, and then made quick work of the release of the buckle on my harness. Freeing my arms I held on as she carried me to the bathroom. She was wiping me gently when she presented me with one of the Pull-Ups from the day before, “why don’t we put a pull-up on you just in case?”

“You think I’m going to wet during a short nap too?” I asked nervously.

“It’s possible,” she told me. “Nothing to be ashamed of if it does though, I’ve told you this dimension has its effects.”

I nodded and reluctantly pulled my shorts and panties off of my feet and took the offered item. I sighed and pulled it up and then the shorts. She had already grabbed my panties and said, “Just in case,” to me.

“And sleeping doesn’t count, right?” I verified.

“Right,” she reassured me.

I walked down the hallway to my room and couldn’t help but note it felt like I’d just had as much alcohol as I had the night I left. Something seemed off and I had no idea what it was. I laid down and she kindly pulled a blanket over me. “Good night,” she told me with a smile.

“It’s not night…” I mumbled but gave up the attempt to stay awake.


IVY STAYED AT the doorway for a long moment before closing the door and walking away. ‘She’s too adorable!’ she told herself. ‘I just want to give up this charade and carry her to the nursery…’

She opened the door and got set up to pump her breasts in the rocking chair. Soon they were draining and she daydreamed about soon it being Holly doing the draining. ‘She seemed to like the Tabers milk just fine,’ she smirked. It took her about twenty minutes to get through her supply before she bagged the results. She made sure she had some in the fridge before placing the fresh milk into the freezer. Holly’s daycare supply was definitely going to be fine when her maternity leave was up!

She smiled as she got back to work doing some other things around the house. Cleaning up after lunch didn’t take long and she started surfing some of the best little clothing sites. Several dresses ended up being purchased before she heard a gasp from the baby monitor that she was monitoring on her tablet.

Holly was sitting up and seemed upset about something.

‘Not that I’m surprised,’ she admitted.

The half-moons around the crotch of Holly’s shorts were visible even through the camera lens. ‘Guess diapers are going to be justifiable for nap times too!’ she smiled.

Hearing Holly call, “Ivy?” With a sad voice she turned off the monitor and walked to her daughters’ temporary room.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she opened the door.

“I wet the bed again…” Holly sobbed sadly.

“It’s okay sweetie,” Ivy said and reached down to hug the little girl.

“But what’s wrong with me?” Holly asked, “An adult shouldn’t go from not wetting their bed to having two enuresis incidents within less than a day?”

‘I almost feel bad for letting her try…’ Ivy said to herself.

“I don’t know that it’s something that’s wrong with you Holly. Remember you’re very small compared to even what you left your dimension.”

“But… even when I was this size in my dimension, I never wet the bed! I was this size when I was eight or nine and didn’t have a problem!”

“What about when you were nineteen months old?”

“Well of course I wet the bed then - I was still a baby in diapers,” she said with a bit of exasperation.

“Well… I’m not saying you are that age, but you are that size compared to us. Like I told you, naps don’t count… and for good reason.” The tears were streaming down her face and Ivy couldn’t help but hug her tighter, ignoring the wet clothes that were soaking her own, and kissed her on her forehead. “It’s okay,” she said soothingly.

“So, does this mean I’m going to be like those other littles and have to go back to diapers?” Holly asked.

“That’s up to you Holly, you really don’t even have one strike at this point - while you’re awake you seem to be doing just fine,” she told her. ‘For now,’ she thought, hiding the smile. Holly smiled a bit at that statement and she decided it was time to take care of getting her cleaned up. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then you can read some more,” Ivy suggested.

Holly for her part just nodded and wriggled free of Ivy’s arms. She looked down at her shorts embarrassed at the wet spots and began pulling them off, “Go ahead and take your blouse off too,” Ivy told her, “now hand me your wet Pull-up.”

As Holly handed her the Pull-up she said, “I guess there’s a reason you wanted me to use a diaper last night… this didn’t do any good…”

Ivy smiled, “No it didn’t. I know a lot of parents that don’t mess with Pull-ups during the night for that reason - they just don’t hold up as well as diapers.”

Holly nodded, now standing naked awkwardly looking up at her. Ivy set the wet clothes down on top of a dresser, with the soaked Pull-up on top of it, and reached over and found some wipes she’d left in the room. Taking a couple out she asked Holly, “Do you want to wipe yourself up, or me to do it?”

Holly blushed a bright red and Ivy went ‘Awww… please say I can,’ in her mind.

“You…” Holly said quietly.

Wasting no time, she bent down on her knees and began using the wipes all over her diaper area, back, stomach, and legs where she knew pee had connected. ‘I wish I could just say this is it and put her in her diapers now… but I want her to decide she needs them as much as the three strikes to tell her she needs them,’ she sighed internally. ‘I want her to go into diapers without hating me…’

Once she was done cleaning her up, she reached in and grabbed a pair of her panties and handed them to Holly to slide on. She watched as she stared skeptically at them before pulling them up her legs. Ivy asked her, “Another pair of shorts? Some pajama pants? A dress?”

Ivy was looking forward to dressing her down the road, but planned on letting her lead the way even when she was in her nursery. Holly furrowed her eyebrows for a moment before saying softly, “A dress?”

She hid her surprise well, but smiled as she walked to the closet and grabbed four options for her. She pointed to a yellow plaid one that she hung onto while putting the others back. It was a bright yellow with wide plaid colors, sleeveless, and the top had fake bows as straps holding it together. Ivy took it off the hanger and undid the buttons before holding it above Holly’s head, “Arms up,” she said with a smile.

Holly complied without much of an expression on her face. Settling the dress over her Ivy bent down and did the three buttons on the back would hold it on. “Why the dress?” Ivy asked curiously.

“Easier to pull down my panties in a hurry…” Holly blushed.

“Yes, I guess it is, just make sure you keep them from showing to everyone,” she smiled at her. “Actually, if we go anywhere, I have a pair of white leggings we’ll put on you,” she added.

She nodded and seemed lost in thought, “Do you mind if I keep looking through your textbook?”

“Sure, but why don’t I also give you an updated one since you were seeing some rather outdated medical advice on littles…”


I SPENT THE afternoon skimming through the original textbook, and the one she brought over to me as well. The newer book did seem to spend some time arguing against the use of the tendon shortening surgery. The authors of the newer book suggested if a parent really wanted their little to be unable to walk, that they should use hypnosis instead. They claimed it was safer because it was possible to later train the little out of that state. If a parent still wanted a more permanent solution the usage of nanites to rewire the connections of the brain to the nerves was now the recommended procedure. ‘So basically, disconnecting all of the programming from the brain to your muscles that you do as a baby…?’ I had wondered in horror. The only good thing was that according to the text it too could be reversed…

When dinner came that night, I enjoyed the homemade pizza that Ivy had made, along with a cup of water that I requested. At her suggestion we sat down to watch a movie together on the couch. “You want a drink?” she asked me midway through the movie.

I debated giving my enuresis issues, but nodded, “Please?”

“Some of the Tabers milk from earlier?” she suggested.

I shrugged, “Sure, it’s weird but it does taste really good.”

She left me on the couch with the movie paused. It was some superhero movie and I was enjoying that one of the superheroes in the movie was a little. It was a little disheartening every time that they reached a stopping point of plot, that the little had to have their diaper publicly changed on camera. I was more than a little shocked at how much of the changes the movie kept showing. ‘I’m not sure if this is something that should even be legal…’

She returned with a glass of water for herself and a sippy cup of the milk for me. I took a sip as she restarted the movie and was again blown away with how great it tasted. ‘It’s like a latte… but without the coffee obviously…’ I tried to describe it to myself. ‘It tastes different than regular milk…’ I thought as I did less sipping, and instead found myself quickly gulping the cup. As a result, it was empty far faster than I was ready for it to be.

I sloshed the cup a bit and Ivy noticed, “Already drank it all?”

I nodded, “It’s really good!”

She smiled, “Do you want more?”

My stomach felt rather full, and I suddenly burped right then, “Maybe later,” I said as I settled in to watch the movie with her. I found my eyes getting heavier and heavier. By the fourth time I’d shaken myself awake I worried I would fall asleep and have a problem without protection on the couch.

“Maybe I should get ready for bed…” I told her.

“Too sleepy?” She asked me while pausing the movie.

“Just worried…”

“Oh… well… how about we get you into your night clothes and then we can come back and finish the movie? That way if you fall asleep the worst that’ll happen is that I’ll need to carry you to your bed?”

I blushed, “I guess…” and yawned then too.

She smiled and carried me to my room and undid the buttons on the back of my dress. “Pull your dress off while I get your pajamas,” she told me.

I reached down to the hem of the dress and pulled it off over my head. My hair was coming loose and got into my eyes so I swiped it clear with my hand and held the dress protectively in front of me as a little bit of cover.

“Panties too,” Ivy reminded me.

I blushed but slid them off and ended up simultaneously handing her both my dress and panties. Soon I was nervously standing there completely naked. I was feeling a little more alert then and wondered if the milk was making me sleepy sooner. She laid the changing pad on the end of my bed and patted it. I groaned but climbed up there and lay where she wanted me to. A short second later a diaper was being shaken open and she lifted my ankles with one hand to pull my butt off the pad enough to situate it. A bottle of baby powder appeared and I blushed more as she shook some into her hands and began rubbing it all over my groin and butt. She wiped her hands with a baby wipe and then taped it shut.

She held out a long nightgown to me, “How about this tonight?”

I stared at the purple garment that was covered in cupcakes and shrugged. “Okay,” and held my arms up so she could pull it over my head. The bottom had a ruffle to it that brushed my ankles as I stood up a moment later. The fabric felt soft and I liked that it covered my arms with long sleeves.

“Shall we go watch the rest of the movie?” She asked me

I nodded feeling some of the sleepiness returning, “sure.”

“Some more milk while I’m up?” she asked as she deposited me on the couch and picked up my sippy cup and her empty glass.


‘I forgot to go potty…’ I thought to myself, ‘I’ll have to remember before I go to bed.’

I took the refilled sippy cup from her. “Sit on my lap?” she asked.

“I guess,” I told her and let her position me in the crook of her arm as the movie restarted. I brought the sippy cup to my mouth and started drinking. “This milk tastes so good!” I said again and found myself with an empty cup again. It wasn’t long after that when my eyes finally stopped trying to stay open.


IVY SAT THERE to finish the movie, but mostly stared at Holly who she had shifted in her arms to a more traditional infants’ cradle. ‘I couldn’t believe she stayed awake after the first cup…’ she thought to herself. ‘I’m not sure that she should have had that second one yet…’ she admitted. As the credits began to roll, she gently stood up and lifted the hem of Holly’s nightgown.

‘Already wet, huh?’ she thought with a smile. ‘I could tell her this counted as a strike, but I won’t. Let’s see if I can change her without her knowing I did…’

As she lay her down on the changing pad and opened the soaked diaper, she noted that there was also some small amount of loose brown stool in the diaper. ‘Hmm… probably not ready for that much milk in one day yet…’ she thought as she gently wiped the sleeping girl. Once she had her in a clean diaper, she pulled the covers back and gently tucked her in, “Good night princess,” she whispered as she kissed her forehead.

Holly never stirred though as she turned out the lights and walked to place the diaper in the nursery disposal. Washing her hands, she looked in the fridge and realized she only had one pouch in there for the next day, ‘better start making sure I have four or five in there if I’m going to keep doing her oatmeal, lunch, and a bedtime snack…’ She walked back to the nursery and prepared to pump some more, ‘Between now and before breakfast I should have enough for her for tomorrow…’



End Chapter 10

Seems Too Good to be True (Diaper Dimension)

by: Baby Sofia | Complete Story | Last updated Dec 19, 2021


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