Chapter Text
You slowly open your eyes and groggily look around. That was a crazy dream, and you’re glad to be home again. You snuggle up against…wait…what is this plushie in your arms? And where is your quilt?
Suddenly, you jolt up into a sitting position, and hear a strange clinking sound. This isn’t your room! Where are you?
It’s so dark you can’t see much.
“Hello?” you ask, your voice timid and weak.
With a sharp clapping sound, the sconces lining the walls light, revealing you’re in a small bedroom with dark wood floors and gray walls with red wallpaper accents. There’s a strange table in the corner with a kind of cushion or cot on top, next to a big red rocking chair. Fastened red cabinets line one of the walls.
The “bed” you’re in, if you can call it that, is about twin-sized, and surrounded by black bars. The mattress is covered in a fitted white sheet, and you hear a crinkling sound when you shift your weight on it that tells you there’s a waterproof cover over it. As you move, you also hear that clinking sound, and look down to see your arms are shackled to the head of the bed, though you have enough slack to move around a bit. Is this a prison? Are you in a cage?
You then realize your clothes have changed. Gone is the strange, tight-fitting suit and tie. It’s been replaced by a similarly tight fitting…is this a onesie? The onesie is short sleeved, with pastel blue and white stripes. These certainly aren’t your clothes. On your feet are plain white crew socks.
Slowly, you begin to put the pieces together. The decor, the barred “bed,” the plushies, the onesie…
Is this demon treating you like a baby?
As if hearing your thoughts, Alastor appears in the room with a *pop!*
“How did you sleep, little one?” Alastor asks, that eternal smile glinting in the light of the sconces.
“I…where am I?” you ask, confused and overwhelmed.
“Oh, little one,” Alastor says, walking up to where you sit, shackled, “Did you forget? Poor little baby, can’t even remember last night. You’re in Hell, little one.”
“But…what happened to my room?” you ask.
“Ah. Well if you recall, you made a promise to me to be a grateful little thing. I don’t appreciate my promises being broken.” Alastor turns away from you, twirling his cane.
“I didn’t mean to!” you cry. You didn’t understand what you were signing up for. It seemed like such a simple promise to make, but you couldn’t keep it for even a few hours.
“Aw, there, there,” Alastor says, and though you try to remain upset, you can’t help how his cloyingly sweet voice soothes you. “I’m sorry, little one. This is really for your own good, though.” Alastor reaches down into your bed and brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. “If you weren’t raised to be a grateful little boy, I think we’ll have to start over and raise you right.”
Your mind reels. How long will you be stuck like this? Is there any way out? You’re not a baby, you’re a big boy!
Alastor seems to notice your stress and pats your head. “Aw, what’s worrying you, little one?”
Before you can think about answering, he continues, “Little babies don’t need to trouble themselves with any big thoughts. Here.” Alastor drops a few action figures he seems to have pulled out of midair into your bed. He then produces a tablet with a rubbery childproof cover and attaches it to the bars facing you like a kind of mini television, only there’s no video.
“I can’t say I’ve ever appreciated the visual medium,” Alastor explains, “So this tablet will only play appropriate music and other audio. A… colleague of mine set up this voice-activated system. Here, I’ll show you.”
Alastor moves towards the tablet and speaks clearly: “Peter Rabbit.” The tablet begins to play an audiobook of the story. “Pause.” The story stops.
“It can play anything?” you ask. Maybe this won’t be so infernally boring, if you can listen to some true crime podcasts.
“Not anything .” Alastor’s voice grows cold. “Only things appropriate for your age group. Don’t even try to ask about anything naughty.” As he says that last word, Alastor's sharp eyes meet yours.
You nod to show you understand.
“Lastly, I understand babies as young as you get fussy,” Alastor says, nodding condescendingly, “So I’ll leave you with this.”
Alastor produces a large, adult-sized pacifier on a ribbon clip. He reaches down toward you, and your heart rate spikes as his hands creep towards your body. He carefully and precisely grabs the material of your onesie and clips the pacifier to it. He then picks up the pacifier from where it hangs on the clip, and, before you can react, stuffs it in your mouth.
You spit the pacifier out on instinct, and it falls and makes a drooly puddle on your onesie. “Hey!” you shout.
“What was that?” Alastor’s voice is calm and menacing. You instantly regret lashing out.
“Poor, fussy baby,” Alastor says. “You need your paci.” He replaces the pacifier in your mouth, and you don’t dare react this time.
“I’ll be back for your breakfast in a few hours,” Alastor says, and in a *pop* he’s gone.
You suckle on the pacifier for a few moments. It is, strangely, soothing, and the smooth, rubbery nipple feels nice in your mouth. What did Alastor call it? A paci?
You only pull out the paci to interact with the tablet. “Play,” you say, your voice still a bit timid. The audiobook starts where it left off, at the very beginning of the story.
As you listen about Peter Rabbit’s adventure, you’re drawn to the action figures Alastor has left for you. They’re not any characters you recognize. One seems to be a man in a pin-striped suit with a television for a head, and one is a tall, white fluffy man with six arms in a tight striped coat, gloves, and heeled black boots.
As time goes on, you feel yourself drift into a relaxed state. Eventually, you’re not worried about where you are or what’s coming next. You suck and chew on your paci and make up little stories to play out with the action figures. They climb plushie mountains and dance together.
When the Peter Rabbit audiobook ends, it automatically begins another Beatrix Potter story, The Tale of Benjamin Bunny.
You’re only woken from your dreamlike trance when your soft belly lets out a rumble. You hadn’t realized how hungry you’ve gotten!
As if Alastor has been listening to you, he appears with another *pop!* holding a tray of breakfast foods.
“Hungry?” Alastor asks, his smile wide. You nod.
He places the tray down in front of you: a plastic, divided tray like one you might get at a school cafeteria. One section is piled high with fluffy pancakes, already cut into small pieces, one is full of diced fruit, and one has a few pieces of bacon. You’re provided some reusable plastic cutlery and a large baby bottle of apple juice.
“I want you to finish that plate, little one,” Alastor warns before disappearing. “I want you to earn your place in the clean plate club. After all, you have a chubby little figure to maintain.”
You barely hear his last words, and start digging in. The pancakes are, ironically, heavenly, the fruit is fresh, the bacon is crispy, and you wash it all down with swigs of apple juice.
You finish most of the plate quickly, though by the end it’s a chore to finish the last few pancakes. Knowing Alastor doesn’t take well to disobedience, you force the last of the starchy pancakes down your throat, and follow with a sip of sweet apple juice.
Once you’re finished, you hear another *pop!* but this time it’s not Alastor that appears, but a small woman in an apron with one eye.
“Hi!” the woman says, her voice high and enthusiastic, “I’m Niffty, and I’m here to clean up after the baby! All done?”
You nod, indicating you’re finished with your breakfast.
“What a good, big boy you are, eating all that!” Niffty praises, jumping down into your bed to grab your empty dishes. You blush at her compliments. “Alastor will be very pleased!”
With one hand full of dishes, Niffty’s eye suddenly trains itself on your soft middle. Before you can react, she reaches out with a tiny hand and takes a sharp handful of your belly fat.
“Soft baby!” she says. Then, with another *pop!* she disappears with the dishes.
You don’t know what to make of the interaction, but once you place your paci back in your mouth and go back to playing, you soon forget any worries you had.