Xilang Airport, Yamatoa

As a sleek black car pulled up behind another, airport security staff stepped forward and opened the rear side doors simultaneously and each bowed to the individuals before they were even exiting. From the first car stepped out a man dressed in a sleek, grey suit, white shirt, and black tie. He had short, neatly trimmed black hair, and his dark brown inset eyes were hidden by the large lensed black glasses. He was of moderate height for an amazon, but of tough build; his shoulders and biceps were pushing against even the thick suit’s jacket. He turned towards the car, reaching a hand out to offer, which the woman inside quickly took.

Emerging from within was a woman of equal fashion senses. A form fitted black suit with a skirt, but a light pink button down underneath which was left open at the top to show off the golden chained necklace with a jadeite circular pendant. She too, like many in Yamatoa, sported jet black hair that she kept trimmed to the bottom of her neck, which suited her oval face. She briefly smiled to her husband as she adjusted a diaper bag strap over her shoulder, but as she looked back to the car behind them, she scowled, “Why are they here?”

From the second car arrived a husband and wife as well, though extremely different in appearance and countenance. The husband was short, though well with reasonable range, was greying at the sides of his black hair, which was also thinning on top. He was portly at the stomach, but it wasn’t too noticeable due to his dress; he wore old, yamatoan traditional clothing, which was loose and flowing. The pants were black and wide all the way down, he wore an off white collared shirt with traditional closures, and a light weight overcoat that was also quite roomy. He smiled to the couple staring and waved, showing his friendly features, as he offered his hand to his wife.

Like her husband, she wore traditional clothing, which was likewise flowing and lightweight, though hers cinched at the waist with a beautiful belt decorated to resemble a flowing river. She was adorned in pastels at the shoulders that grew bolder towards her feet, which were covered by the many skirts. Her hair too was greying, but she incorporated it into her hairstyle, which was up in various buns, accented purposefully by the greying. She was void of jewelry, though carried an old bamboo basket on her right forearm.

“Mr. Okira,” the first man stiffly greeted upon approach, the couple bowing modestly.

“Ah, it is a pleasure, Mr. And Mrs. Shozen,” Mr. Okira smiled and greeted them both, as he and his wife bowed much deeper.

“I deeply apologize for wasting your time,” Mr. Shozen began as he stood up, his wife having difficulty suppressing a sneering grin at them. “But we were called to handle this.”

“Oh,” Mr. Okira smiled, trying to sound surprised but failing to do so. He turned to his wife and she nodded, pulling a cellphone from her river belt, and presented the screen with a bow of her head. Her husband gestured to it as the Shozens leaned forward. “We are here to join. We have been asked to take care of one of the two aboard.”

This time it was Mr. Shozen who was unable to hide his scowl as he scanned the contents of the email. His eyes flickered to the pair of the opposing couple and stood up, adjusting his tie and nodded curtly.

He replied both sincerely and not, “I look forward to the comparison.” He gave a brief, even worse in depth, bow than his greeting and began walking into the airport. His wife gave a curt nod in place of a bow, her hand gripping white knuckled on the diaper bag strap as she nearly broke out into a run to catch up to her husband, but the Okiras bowed as deeply as before. When there was enough distance, they stood up and shared a knowing look.

“I don’t think they like us,” Mrs. Okira chuckled quietly, which her husband laughed in agreement and the pair made their way into the airport.

Flight 1031

Anna sighed as she tossed the paper towel into the small receptacle in the cramped airplane bathroom, which had been quite difficult for her to navigate. Despite the Airline’s advertising that promised Little-accommodations, they had not delivered on those expectations. They had considered a booster seat enough, though she did have to admit, it was comfortable. But the bathroom was not at all designed for someone of her stature, and thus what should have been a quick break had turned into an ordeal. Her eyes flickered up to the changing table at the far wall, which gave her a shudder, and she unlocked the door. Stepping out, she saw a line of Amazons who ranged from looking worried to irritated; she cleared her throat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as she quickened her pace to pass them, doing her best to ignore the mutterings as she maneuvered towards her seat. In a row of three, the Amazon man in the aisle seat nodded to her as he stood up to let her in and she looked up to her brother who reached out a hand.

“Did you fall in?” He joked as he pulled her up; she shot him a glare.

“Shut up,” she snapped as she plopped into the booster seat. He snickered, shaking his head as she tried to indicate she didn’t want the amazon hearing, but George looked back down at his phone.

“The flight attendant stopped by,” he declared in a bored tone. “Said she’ll come back when you were back.”

“Why?” Anna asked nervously, her eyes looking around the plane suddenly.

“Dunno,” he shrugged as he returned to chopping fruit. Anna clenched her jaw, deciding best not to chide him with her usual ‘you’re useless’ complaints, for obvious reasons. She pulled out her phone, intending to use it to distract herself from her nervous, but she couldn’t even unlock it. She looked briefly up to the amazon who was reading from a book (Mark, she thought he said his name was), and everyone else within visual range was likewise invested in their own entertainment options.

Glancing to the paperwork stuffed in the left pocket of the booster seat, she plucked it out and fanned through it once more, making sure every piece was still there. They were flying to Suomi in Europa where they had an aunt who was willing to help them get on their feet, and she was obsessing over each piece, worried they had left something behind. Suomi had strict regulations and burden of proof for the diagnosis of maturosis, and was quickly being considered a safe haven for Littles. The trouble was just getting there (and staying there).

“Anna? George?” The flight attendant smiled as she leaned forward, adding a “sorry, sir” to Mark who nodded, angling his body towards the aisle to give her space.

“Yes?” Anna pulled the paperwork to her chest, looking to the large woman. George took the few extra seconds to pause his game before looking up.

“I wanted to tell you first,” she cleared her throat, clearly nervous; Anna shifted uncomfortably. “Before the captain makes the announcement… that … uh, well… we have to make an emergency landing.”

Mark lifted his eyebrows as he lifted his eyes from his book to look to the flight attendant. Anna swallowed and George nodded. The flight attendant took in a quick breath and added, “In Yamatoa.”

Anna instantly felt the color drain from her face.

“I know — I’m sorry,” she replied hastily, putting her hands up, clearly able to read their expressions. “But we have no choice. A spo —“

“You can’t!” Anna interrupted as her heart began to race and she looked to George, who looked likewise in shock. “You can’t — you know what they’ll do to us!”

“Please, keep your voice,” she put a hand up nervously, biting her lower lip as she looked around. “Yes, and we will be fully refunding your tickets. This is not the experience we —“

“How is the money going to help us if we’re —“ Anna began to hiss, but she couldn’t even finish the sentence. The flight attendant put a hand on her chest, clearly sympathetic, though she also appeared more nervous they were going to make a scene.

”The estimated time for repair is two to three hours,” she nervously explained, lowering her own voice in hopes the two would follow. “We’ve been told you can stay on the plane, and we will make sure you are … returned … to your normal state as soon as we leave.”

Before anyone could say another word, there was the telltale ding sound of an incoming announcement. The flight attendant gave an apologetic look and stepped away to join the others in their positions, at the ready for this news. Mark flashed Anna a frown, but she didn’t notice; her face was pale but for the emerging red in her cheeks and she turned to face George, who still seemed in shock.

“This is your captain speaking. I apologize for the inconvenience is this going to cause, but we had a spoiler fail to fully retract which has been causing excess drag and draining our fuel. Unless we refuel and fix the issue, we won’t be able to make it to our destination. We will be landing in 20 minutes at Xilang Airport in Yamatoa. Air traffic control has cleared all passengers to disembark and enjoy the airport’s amenities as we assess and repair. Please prepare for around a three hour layover. Please ask any questions of the flight attendants.”

The announcement was clear and precise in its delivery, and as soon as it was done, the volume of the plane spiked. The flight attendants began working their way through the aisles to answer questions, apologizing profusely and explaining the issue over and over again.

“Go to the bathroom,” Anna ordered George as she snapped in front of his face to pull him from the shock. “Now. They’re going to put us in diapers and we need to empty. Go.”

George nodded as fumbled with his phone, dropping it to the ground and grabbed it, nervously waving to Mark as he slipped by him and headed to the back of the plane. Anna put her face in her hands, trying hard not to cry; that would be the exact opposite of what she needed right now. She clenched her teeth, trying to focus on a solution. If the flight attendant was honest, which Anna doubted, they just needed to survive three hours of diapers and babying. Three hours…

“Do you, uh,” Mark began uncomfortably as he cleared his throat. “Do you want company during this … layover?”

Anna blinked as she looked up to the man, whose eyes flickered between the book and her. While his body language was uncomfortable, she couldn’t tell why; was he being opportunistic, and trying to hide his giddiness? That was the only reasonable explanation. No amazon would be nervous at the prospect of babying Littles. She sniffed and shook her head no, folding up the papers and stuffing them deep into the booster seat’s pocket.

“Well, if you do, I can —“

“We’re fine,” Anna snapped as she fiddled with her phone, realizing she should inform their aunt of this update. Perhaps she could do something on her end, should this go sour.

The next 20 minutes flew by. Frantic and desperate to prepare, Anna furiously researched what she could about Yamatoa technology, practices, and went to the bathroom one more time. Though every Little knew about Yamatoa, knowing and knowing were different things. George likewise tried to do some research, though he focused on ‘how to combat hypnosis’, ‘how to taste for laxatives’, and ‘things to concentrate on while holding it’.

The two stared out the window in terror for the remaining few minutes as the ground of Yamatoa grew larger and closer. They both took in a sharp breath as the wheels of the plane hit the ground hard and bounced once. The plane engines roared in defiance of the momentum, quickly slowing the plane down to a more modest driving speed.

Once docked, the sound of clicking belts flooded the plane as amazons stood up, stretched, and some even eager to check out the airport. George and Anna held hands nervously, leaving themselves clicked into the seat. As the plane emptied, Mark stretched out as gestured towards the front of the plane, looking at the pair again.

“You’re sure?” he offered one last time and Anna nodded. He hesitated but nodded in return and left the plane.

“What was that about?” George whispered.

“I think he wanted to daddy us while we were diapered,” she hissed quietly, squeezing his hand. “And make it seem like a favor.”

They sat silently on the plane for a few minutes, all of the rows empty save for the flight attendants moving through the aisles and taking the opportunity to clean up. Smiles were flashed their way, which they returned, but no words were exchanged. Neither George nor Anna wanted to risk getting their phones which they had stuffed in between the seats, fearful they’d be confiscated. After a long, painful, nerve-wrecking few minutes, five figures at the front of the plane emerged and began their way down the aisle towards them. The pair swallowed. At the front was an europan man, dressed in a captain’s uniform… and the four following him were all yamatoan, in pairs, dressed very distinctly from each other. The captain flashed an ingenuine smile as he placed his hand on the back of Mark’s chair.

“Anna. George,” he greeted with a stiff nod of his head to them. “These are representatives of Yamatoa, here to take care of you during your time here. This is Mr. and Mrs. Shozen,” he gestured to the couple at the front, in suits, who had serious looks upon their faces, but flashed smiles and barely nodded. “And behind them are Mr. and Mrs. Okira,” he introduced as he motioned his hand behind to the older couple who bowed slightly.

“Hi,” George managed to push out as he nodded to the paired couples. Anna was frozen, staring at the out-of-place looking strap around Mrs. Shozen’s shoulder.

“Hello, Georgie,” Mrs. Shozen said in a sickeningly sweet tone and a heavy accent, stepping closer to the captain to reveal her full body to them, her diaper bag very visible. “We will take care of you today.”

“We don’t want to be split up,” Anna blurted out quickly, her eyes looking between the couples, then desperately to the captain, who held a firm expression. “We’re siblings. We – we’re sticking together.”

Everyone chuckled like she was being precocious. Her face hardened as she glared at the captain.

“We were told we didn’t have to leave the plane,” she spat and he frowned, his eyes flickering nervously to the yamatoans.

“That was a mistake,” he replied stiffly, his hands gripping onto the top of the chair. “Everyone is to be off the plane for repairs. Now come on – George, you first,” he ordered harshly, but Mr. Shozen put a hand up.

“It is okay, captain,” the suited man excused, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “We are accustomed to this.”

“Come, Georgie,” Mrs. Shozen coaxed, putting her hand out for him. “We have a lot of fun planned.”

“Oh, goodie,” George grumbled as he reached for the belt with his one free hand and Anna snapped to look at him.

“What are you do –” she squeaked as he began trying to shake his hand free her vice-like grip on his.

“Anna, just –” he groaned as his sweaty hand pulled free and he jumped onto the ground. Looking up at her, he frowned and gave an exaggerated shrug. “This is happening. We can’t stop it. And I’d rather walk than be dragged, okay?”

Anna stared in shock as her brother broke eye contact, a look of shame washing over his face as he proceeded forward. She felt compelled to scream, even opening her mouth to do so, but nothing came. She watched in silent horror as her brother took the extended hand, and Mrs. Shozen grinned maliciously. Mr. Shozen turned to the older couple, saying something in a haughty tone in yamatoan.

“Such a good boy,” Mrs. Shozen purred as she ran her fingers through his reddish brown hair with her other hand then scooped him up into her arms. They began making all haste off the plane and Anna finally found the will to scream, just as she lost sight of George.

“GEORGE!!” she shrieked as she grabbed onto the belt of the booster seat firmly, wanting to cement herself in this position as long as possible.

“Anna,” the captain said in a threatening tone, akin to that of a disappointed and embarrassed father. But the older man gently waved off the captain as his wife rounded the seats and sat in Mark’s chair. Anna leaned away from her as best she could.

“If you don’t mind, captain, we would like some privacy,” Mr. Okira requested humbly, dropping his head and the top half of his body in a bow.

“Of course,” the captained nodded, flashing a warn look to Anna, and he began making his way towards the front of the plane. Anna stared at the front next to her, breathing very loudly.

“I am sorry for mistakes,” she spoke softly, with a harsh accent, as she set her wicker-style basket on the ground. “This must be very scary.”

Anna opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Yes, this was horrible and frightening, a nightmare scenario for any Little. But to admit that to an amazon, let alone a yamatoan, that something was “scary” seemed like a trap.

“I am Nari Okira, or Mrs. Okira,” she introduced herself, placing a hand gently on her chest, then to the man. “This is my husband, Kaito Okira, or Mr. Okira.”

Anna nodded to them, knowing better than to ignore or defiantly disregard an amazon who was being polite, especially in Yamatoa. She had read that politeness was held in supreme regard, and the fastest way to get a yamatoan to diaper you (outside of Yamatoa, of course) was to be rude to them. When the woman paused, Anna swallowed and bowed her head.

“It’s… g-good to meet you,” she stammered, seeing glowing looks of approval as she raised her head back up.

“My husband and I have requested this work many times,” she started to explain patiently, slow to speak and pausing between some words as she recalled the translation. “We wish to make experience … calm. Nice.”

Again, the woman paused. Anna looked between the two, desperately trying to figure out what was going on; she swallowed hard and nodded to indicate she understood, but wasn’t sure what kind of response the woman was looking for. When the Mrs. Okira didn’t move to speak, Anna grew uncomfortable in the lengthening silence and took in a breath.

“Like… you want me to … enjoy this?” Anna asked quietly.

“Yes,” Mrs. Okira nodded in approval, glad she understood.

“No,” Anna responded firmly and resolutely, shaking her head. “I won’t.”

“We understand,” Mr. Okira spoke up, nodding knowingly (though how could he) as he grabbed the edge of his outer jacket. “Still. We want to try.”

Mrs. Okira leaned down and opened the basket. Anna leaned forward a bit to look, wincing as she saw two folded up diapers and recoiled in the seat. The woman dipped her hand into the basket and pulled out a small pouch made from tied up fabric. She brought it to her nose and took in a large sniff, then held it up for her husband, who did the same. Then, she held it out for Anna to sniff.

Again, too nervous to decline at the perception of being rude, she leaned forward and took a very small sniff. It smelled like potpourri; a mix of eucalyptus and spearmint… relaxing scents. A bit strong, perhaps, but pleasant. Mrs. Okira put the bag in her lap and repeated the process with a different bag, sniffing herself first, then to her husband, then to Anna. This one was lavendar, chamomile, and some rose. Finally, a third, which was cinnamon, clove, and vanilla.

“Which do you prefer?” Mrs. Okira asked gently. Anna swallowed and pointed to the third one, causing the yamatoan to smile widely. “This is our favorite, too.”

She placed the other two back in the basket and held out the third one for Anna to hold, but she didn’t move. She stared at the bag, trying to think to the quick research she did while they were landing. None of this was clicking. She didn’t recall reading anything about yamatoans using fragrances in this way – usually fragrances were put into things to masquerade a laxative or other poison.

“Would you like me to put it in something else?” Mrs. Okira asked as she lifted a small, stuffed elephant from the bag. “We can put the scents in his belly.”

Anna snatched the bag immediately. If she had a choice between a scented bag might cause her problems, or a stuffed animal that would do the same, she preferred the less child-like option. Mr. Okira chuckled quietly and nodded in approval. His wife placed the elephant back in the basket and closed the lid.

“Now, Anna,” she began as she shifted her body to face Anna more. “We must leave this plane. They will not start repairs until we do.”

Anna clenched her jaw; that sounded about right. It was highly unlikely that part was necessary, but here in Yamatoa, the airline crew had to obey the local stipulations. Forcing everyone to disembark was probably some law they made to force Littles out into the open. She had a surge of stubbornness that locked her movements; she didn’t shake her head no, or speak, but thought to mimic shock to avoid seeming petulant.

“That means more time with Shozen family for your brother,” Mr. Okira added with a sigh, his eyes looking down the aisle towards the front where they had carried George away. Anna closed her eyes and held her breath; it was a valid pressure point. He had sucked it up and moved this along, and it would have been unfair of her to draw this out in return. Letting out a defeated size, she nodded and clicked the belt off.

“Very good,” Mrs. Okira nodded as she stood up, her husband moving down the aisle to give her room, and she held her hand out.

“Can I … walk?” Anna asked as she landed her feet on the floor, looking at the offered hand. She then thought to add, “Please.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Okira smiled. Anna blushed when she felt how warm the woman’s hand was, especially compared to her cold and clammy one. Mrs. Okira held onto Anna’s handle gently and began walking down the aisle with her, her husband following them from behind. At the front of the plane, one flight attendant remained who smiled nervously at the yamatoans and reported an ‘all clear’ once they passed her. Anna froze at the threshold of the plane to the walkway, where the captain was beyond the plane, speaking with an airport employee. Mrs. Okira squeezed her hand warmly and as she looked up to the woman, she made a movement of pointing to Anna’s other hand, then her own nose. “If you feel nervous, smell.”

Anna nodded, pulling the bag up to her face took in a large whiff. It was very pleasant. It didn’t resolve her nerves, or magically made the stress of the situation go away, but it shifted her senses enough to give her the strength to move her feet again. Stepping over the threshold, the yamatoan worker gave a wide smile to her but continued speaking with the captain about the repairs; the captain’s eyes flashed between the discussion and Anna, giving her only an approving nod. The three walked down the lonely, makeshift hall, the distant sounds of the airport growing louder with every couple of steps. Mrs. Okira looked over her shoulder to her husband and spoke up in yamatoan, seeming to ask him something. He replied with confidence and Anna looked to him; he pointed to the right, made a comment, then to the left and made a few comments. Mrs. Okira murmured to her husband in Yamatoan, then nodded and indicated the left. They fell silent again until they entered the airport proper.

The place was quite bustling. It was a sea of yamatoans, peppered with a few tourists here and there. Most were dressed modernly, so not only did the Okiras draw looks from their traditional dress, but then eyes fell to Anna naturally. Some appeared surprised, gazing at her outfit and eyes lingering at her diaperless bottom. Others seemed to connect the dots, nodded, and flashed her a smile. But a fair few looked disapproving at her, showing their judgment of her current state. She didn’t realize how hard she was holding onto Mrs. Okira’s hand or the potpourri bag, which was she desperately sniffing to keep her sense occupied by something other than raw fear. Once beyond the exit and seating area, Mr. Okira explained something to his wife and then walked off towards the right. Mrs. Okira looked down to Anna as she gestured towards a bathroom.

“Let’s get you changed, Anna,” she offered as a suggestion, but they both knew it wasn’t. Anna nodded stiffly, her body tensing up and her eyes beginning to fill with tears. This was the threshold. Once she was put in that diaper, she had no guarantee of ever being out of one again. The airline staff had already lied to her several times, so she couldn’t count on their cooperation once these three hours were over. For all she knew, they had arranged this because some staff member or passenger wanted to adopt. She felt her knees begin to shake with every step towards the bathroom, with a clear, language-less sign indicating a baby on a changing table. She wanted to burst out into tears, but she struggled against that inclination as well. Crying in public was a surefire way to be taken… then again, that wasn’t really a risk anymore, was it?

Right in front of the door, Anna’s feet planted on the ground and a few silent tears fell down her face as she stared at the sign. Mrs. Okira looked down at her, and gasped when she saw the tears. Stepping off to the side, she kneeled down to Anna and manually wiped away her tears with her sleeve, while opening the basket.

“Oh, Anna, it is just clothing,” Mrs. Okira tried to comfort her as she pulled out a handkerchief. Anna’s shoulders began to shake as she shook her head, wanting desperately to explain these weren’t just clothes, but fear and panic were seizing her words.

“P-please,” she managed to stammer out, grabbing a hold of the woman’s massive sleeve as she looked straight into her eyes. Anna knew it was absurd to ask her for help. Deep down, she knew she should have just made hell on the plane and made this difficult for everyone. Yet, this couple was being uncharacteristically nice for what she had read about Yamatoans, and there was a sense of … guilt, perhaps, at the idea of being cruel to them. Mrs. Okira gave her a long look, seemingly assessing what she was asking and considering the possibilities – at least, it was what Anna had hoped was happening. The yamatoan let out a small sigh as she gently blotted the handkerchief on Anna’s face.

“I have idea,” the older women smiled gently as she cleaned up Anna’s face. “But you will have to trust me.”

Anna felt her heart skip a beat; trust a yamatoan? Trust an amazon sent to baby her? That was a large ask … but it wasn’t like she had much of a choice. Either she trusted this woman to at least try to help her in some way, or she fought against this fruitlessly on the home turf of Little Hell, and who knows what would happen as a consequence. She had to accept that, for whatever reason, she had gotten lucky with this kind couple and she couldn’t risk being handed off to someone worse.

Oh George, Anna thought as guilt swarmed her, wondering how he was faring. She had to imagine he was already dolled up, given the pace the Shozens seemed to be aiming for. Closing her eyes as the handkerchief was wiped once more against her eyes, she drew the potpourri to her face and gave a single nod.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Okira smiled as she closed the lid of the basket again and, not letting Anna root herself again, she slipped her hands under the woman’s arms and lifted her up. Anna flinched, instinctually moving to fight this, but clenched her jaw; Trust, trust, she repeated to herself, closing her eyes tightly as she heard them enter the bathroom. Opening her eyes to the sound of the changing table coming down, Anna watched as Mrs. Okira put her basket down and brought out a cloth pad. She was skillfully managing the set up with access to only one hand, which was not surprising. She pulled out a cloth bag and set it to the side.

“That is for old clothes,” the yamatoan explained and pulled out two bottles of oil. She used her thumb to screw off the tops and again, sniffed first, then let Anna do the same. Similar to the potpourri, the oils were infused with relaxing elements and Anna, understanding she had a choice, pointed to the eucalyptus oil.

“What’s it for?” she asked both curiously and nervously, having never encountered oil in the lists of things to avoid for Littles.

“Massage,” the woman smiled as she put away the other bottle. She set Anna down on the changing pad, lifting her sleeve up and laid down a line of the oil on her forearm. Anna blinked, looking between the arm and her face; this woman was going to a lot of trouble to prove her stuff was safe. Mrs. Okira rubbed the oil into her forearm gently, making a few massaging movements. They shared a look, as if the yamatoan was asking if Anna was ready, and after a beat, she nodded.

Mrs. Okira began with her shoes, being slow and respectful. She began to sing a song in yamatoan, smiling to herself at the words, and placed the shoes in the clothe bag first. Then the socks. Anna blushed, having not been undressed by anyone since she was young, or … she swallowed, unable to think of any sexual encounters given the circumstances. Before moving onto her pants, the yamatoan put some oil on her fingers and began rubbing Anna’s feet with it; she couldn’t help but laid down on her back and let out a content moan. The pressure was perfect. Amazon strength could make something like this hurt, but the woman seemed skilled at knowing how to put just enough pressure on to feel good. A wave of relaxation traveled throughout her body and she closed her eyes, letting the smell of eucalyptus overtake her senses while her body felt like it was melting. When her feet were released and Mrs. Okira began removing her pants, she felt a flush of anxiety rush over her, though she noticed a tickling sensation her in her feet now. Wiggling her toes, Anna frowned; it didn’t feel bad, but she was suddenly worried.

“It … tingles,” she said as she watched her pants be delicately folded and placed in the cloth bag, grateful Mrs. Okira had picked the changing table farthest from the door (because of course there were multiple, and of course there were no privacy walls).

“Yes,” Mrs. Okira nodded knowingly as she warmed more oil between her hands. “Oil of clove, very small amount, makes for warming of the skin. May tingle, but it will fade.”

Without letting Anna process or comment on that, she began to massage Anna’s legs and yet again, a happy moan leaked out of her lips. Her felt the fingers pressing and pinching (though in a good way) her calves and thighs, then would return to her feet, then back up again. When the rubbing stopped, Anna let out a content sigh, though the relaxed feeling cut short when she heard the diaper crinkle.

Mrs. Okira took out a plain white disposable diaper that she folded lengthwise, all while humming a tune. Anne felt the tingling in her legs trying its best to maintain some resemblance of a relaxed state, but her upper body was seizing and her jaw clenching. The yamatoan set the diaper down as she had a thought, reaching her hand into the basket and took out a ring, handing it to Anna.

“You can bite, if you like,” she explained as Anna took the ring with her left hand, remembering the potpourri in her right and sniffed it. Her eyes darted to the ring, feeling it was made of rubber. “It will be easier on your teeth,” she added.

Anna grimaced and simply held onto the ring, unwilling to bite onto a teething toy at first – but as her underwear was slid off and she was now completely exposed from the waist down, she swallowed her pride and bit into the ring, closing her eyes. She felt her lower half being lifted and lowered, what might have been rubbing of diaper cream (hard to tell with the tingling), then she smelled the powder, and finally she felt the diaper fold up the front, tapped, and now hugging her closely. Her jaw received a firm workout from this as she bit harder than she ever had before, her brain even flashing an image of her biting a section of the ring off. She felt a gentle pat between her legs and her face turned red, her eyes opening to the same warm smile of the yamatoan. She moved her legs a bit, surprised at how comfortable she felt; she had always imagined a diaper as a bulky, thick pressure forcing her legs outward.

Mrs. Okira continued the process, removing Anna’s shirt and bra, folding them gently and placing them into the bag, and massaged her with the oil. She was gentle and thorough, applying pressing in areas where muscles were most tense, even speaking some words in yamatoan when she found some muscle knots in her shoulders. She gently turned Anna onto her stomach and did the same for her back, which was the highlight of the entire thing, as she incorporated the legs and feet again. This was so incredibly effective that Anna believed she fell asleep for a minute or so, but it was hard to tell; the entire massage was like a dream, where time both did and did not exist. By the end, Anna’s entire body was warm and tingling, and her body was shockingly relaxed.

Turned back onto her back, the ring and oil were placed back into her bag and she drew out a simple, plain white onesie. Relaxed and ready not to be nude from the waist up (though she only really registered that once she saw the onesie), Anna didn’t resist; Mrs. Okira moved her arms and legs around as need, snapping the onesie in place, then she pulled out a blanket. She shimmied the blanket underneath Anna and then pulled her up into her arms; Anna grabbed at the end of the blanket, pulling it up over her to hide her body, and adjusted in the woman’s arms, blinking in surprise at how quickly she had cleaned up and packed everything away.

“You are doing so well,” the yamatoan purred proudly, lifting the last thing on the table, Anna’s bag of clothes, showing it to her and setting it inside the basket. Flipping the lid closed, she hoisted it back on her arm and moved to leave – but she paused halfway out and looked to Anna. “Do you want to walk?”

“No,” Anna replied quietly as she looked down, having no shoes or socks on, and unsure if she’d have the quintessential waddle. Plus, the blanket was acting like a shield, hiding her diaper from others, so she had some illusion of privacy. When the yamatoan didn’t immediately begin walking, Anna recalled the priority her culture put on politeness, so she added, “Thank you.”

Back out into the airport, Anna leaned against Mrs. Okira, her body still quite relaxed from the massage and the tingling mostly gone, but her skin still cozy warm. Resting her head on the woman’s shoulder, she began observing the area. There were decorations hung of red and gold in images of dragons, the sun, and flowers. Many people were wearing clothes with red and gold in them, and she wondered if it was a holiday. She recognized Mr. Okira, standing out due to his attire, beaming as he approached them. The couple shared a few sentences in yamatoan, then he gestured towards a cafe where he had been waiting. There was a table with only two chairs, two plates and two mugs, but there was a bag that looked like a present sitting on one of the chairs. Mrs. Okira seemed to acknowledge something but she motioned to the store next to the cafe and he bowed his head in approval, walking back to the table and the two women walked towards the clothing store.

“Where are we going?” Anna asked curiously, looking back at Mr. Okira who waved at her and she instinctually waved back.

“To do my idea,” Mrs. Okira explained simply and vaguely. Anna looked up at her but didn’t receive any further details. Stepping into the clothing store, the yamatoan walked over to the festive section where traditional clothing akin to what she was wearing was on display, with varying sizes for Amazons and Littles. She glided over to the Little section and began pushing the outfits apart from each other to show them off. They were like hers, long and flowing dresses with a belt at the center. They were in various color patterns, mixes of reds and golds, with some fading into pinks and pinkish whites. The belts had embroidered golden dragons on them, while most had a rising golden sun on the back. She assessed them carefully, with a level of scrutiny beyond Anna’s understanding, and landed on two options: both were long, of similar cut, but just slightly different dragon looks, and one as a dark red than the other which was more pink.

“Which do you prefer?” the yamatoan asked down to Anna, who blinked up at her in confusion. She looked at the two, not seeing much of a difference, but pointed to the pink one.

“That one, I guess,” she quietly replied with a slight shrug, still not quite sure what was going on.

“Good choice,” the yamatoan smiled as she plucked it from the shelf; stepping away from the display, she explained something quickly to the cashier who acknowledged and gestured towards the back, and she prompted took Anna to a changing room. Setting her down on the bench, she pulled the pieces of the outfit apart. “Traditional yamatoan dress is very loose and – mm – flowing. Not popular for Littles because it hides what is underneath,” she winked to Anna.

Anna, opened her mouth to speak, but she couldn’t think of what to say. She sat there, stunned, as the woman pulled the blanket off of her and began draping her in the traditional clothing. She lovingly pulled her arms through the massive sleeves, and gently cinched the belt, tucking its ends at the back. When she was done, she gestured to the mirror for her to look.

Blinking, looking at herself in the mirror, she looked … normal. At least, as normal as wearing a centuries old foreign costume of sorts could be, but the woman was correct: there was no indication of a diaper and no sign of the onesie beneath. Anna could still feel the diaper, of course, but even the layers muffled its crinkling. She looked to Mrs. Okira through the mirror, who appeared to be beaming with joy as she watched. Anna teared up slightly as she looked back to her reflection, feeling an overwhelming flow of gratitude and did the only thing she knew would translate for the woman: she turned around to face her and bowed.

“Thank you,” Anna whimpered in her bow, trying her best to hold back the tears. Mrs. Okira burst into yamatoan praise and joy, reaching down to scoop Anna up into her arms and give her a hug, patting her back. Anna couldn’t help but let out a laugh, hugging her back while quickly wiping away her tears.

“Okay, let us check out. Mr. Okira has present for you,” she sang in delight as she set Anna back down on the bench so she could fold the blanket up and put it in her basket. “Walk or carry?” she asked.

Anna looked down at the dress which was slightly longer than a typical dress she’d wear, and had a bit of drag on the floor. In her consideration, she thought she might trip on the outfit, risking Mrs. Okira regretting the choice and reverting to a hazardless but revealing outfit. With that in mind, she mustered a smile and put her arms up. “Carry, please,” she replied.

Hoisted up into her arms with ease, the pair, now looking like a mother and daughter with semi-matching outfits, proceeded out to the counter. Anna jerked in Mrs. Okira’s arms as the tag was pulled off the sleeve.

“Wait, I should pay!” she chirped instinctually, feeling guilty that this woman would spend her own money on clothing for a complete stranger. Mrs. Okira’s eyebrows raised high as she pulled her head back in surprise.

“You have yamatoa coin?” she puzzled.

“Oh… no,” she replied as she deflated, realizing not only that didn’t have yamatoan currency, but that she had left her purse on the plane anyway. Mrs. Okira chuckled in response as she reached into her river belt and pulled out a small fabric bag.

“It is my pleasure and treat,” she affirmed as she pulled out cash from the small bag and set it down for the cashier. Everything about this woman was ‘old school’ and the more Anna relaxed around her, the more she appreciated it. She hadn’t used a phone, was paying in cash rather than card, dressed old fashioned, and all of her materials from the basket appeared homemade. The oils, the potpourri – none of it had a company label on it.

“Thank you,” Anna simpered when the transaction was done and Mrs. Okira only smiled in response. Once more, they approached the table where Mr. Okira was waiting patiently, and his face lit up as he stood. He and his wife again chattered in yamatoan, though very briefly, and he beamed to Anna.

“You look great,” he complimented kindly and Anna blushed, bowing her head in appreciation. That set the pair off again, chattering lovingly in yamatoan, but Mr. Okira recovered quickly as he gestured to the table, taking the basket from his wife and setting it on the ground for her. He picked up the gift bag so she could sit with Anna in her lap, and he presented the gift bag to her. “For you, Anna.”

Looking at his beaming face, she took the gift bag with a smile, feeling suddenly very lucky, which was rather insane. An hour ago, she had felt like misfortune was cackling at her and her brother’s expense, yet here she was, being listened to, gifted, and cared for by a rather loving and conscientious pair. She smiled genuinely at him and reached into the bag, feeling two thick objects. She put her other arm in and pulled them out, revealing two child-friendly, thick cardboard books in yamatoan.

“This one,” Mr. Okira reached across the table, tapping the first one. “Will teach you common words, so you don’t feel so … um …” he paused, clearly trying to think of the correct word. “Lost,” he landed on with a smile, then tapped the second one. “This one teaches about Spring Festival, which is almost end.” He paused, clearly realizing that didn’t sound right. “Almost … done,” he amended with a nod.

Anna blinked, looking down at the books, staring in silence. Mr. Okira cleared his throat, causing her to look back to him and he waved a hand to her.

“You do not have to keep,” he clarified, trying to communicate something he feared she thought. “Just for your time here.”

She nodded as she realized he must have feared she thought this was a sign she was staying, but her silence hadn’t been a fear response. These were thoughtful gifts from a man who understood she was in a foreign country, not knowing the language, and he was trying to give her the power to feel more comfortable. That, and he was trying to share a part of his culture that wasn’t directly linked to diapers (presumably). It was touching. Feeling a warmth in her chest, Anna silently turned around and placed the books in Mrs. Okira’s lap. The woman looked at her curiously, but placed a hand on the books to keep them in place, while Anna slid down onto the ground. Lifting the front of her skirts, she took the few necessary steps towards Mr. Okira and held up her arms to him. Surprised, but pleasantly so, he reached down and picked her, placing her feet on his legs. She leaned forward and gave him a hug; he gasped, and likewise did his wife, and he almost too-gently hugged and patted her back.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him, sniffling quietly, grateful for the long sleeves of her dress to double as a handkerchief. She smiled at him as she pulled back and repeated the process, sliding down onto the ground, lifting her skirts, and stepping over to Mrs. Okira who lifted her back up into her lap. Promptly taking the yamatoan language book, she immediately reclined against the woman and started reading. The Okiras began jabbering back and forth, talking about whatever, as Anna started learning about the characters that made up a single word, and how many were pictographic if you knew how to look at it. The pages showed drawings super imposed over the character and she smiled, learning the words for hello, goodbye, thank you, baby, big, little, mommy, daddy, girl, boy, good and bad as the Okiras had their coffee.

Periodically Anna would point to a word and look up at Mrs. Okira, asking to hear the word out loud. She obliged every time, saying it slowly twice, and once quickly to hear the difference. Anna would repeat it out loud and was given far too much praise from the two of them, causing her to blush, wishing they would be more honest about her pronunciation. Anna ran her tongue over her teeth as she was learning the word for water and she had a suddenly realization that she was incredibly thirsty. She looked up and spotted a nearby clock, noting that she had been on the ground for at least an hour now. She had stopped drinking when they learned of this pitstop, and while she could regularly go hours without drinking, she was parched. Looking up to Mrs. Okira once more, she didn’t have to say or do much to get her attention. The pair stopped talking as both sets of eyes looked to her.

“May I have water, please?” she asked a little nervously. She knew what this meant. She was going to have to drink from a bottle, or a sippy cup if they were feeling generous, but she hated this dry feeling in her mouth, which almost made her mouth feel dirty, and she could hold in her bladder for two hours.

“Of course,” Mrs. Okira purred and Mr. Okira stood up, walking off to handle the request. While they waited, Mrs. Okira she reached her hands down towards Anna’s feet, grabbing them through the dress and giving them a slight squeeze like the massage from earlier. Anna let out a giggle at first, the movement feeling ticklish, but relaxed when the pressure was applied, closing her eyes and enjoying the moment. She opened her eyes when she heard the increasingly familiar voice of Mr. Okira who had returned to the table and set down a baby bottle of water on the table.

Anna bit her lower lip. Mrs. Okira smiled knowingly as she took the book from Anna and set it on the table, then shifted the Little to lay down in her lap while she moved her arm to create a sort of barrier from the outside world with her large sleeves. She then took the bottle and handed it to Anna, who was grateful to have the agency … but the bottle was heavy. It was made of a dense glass and filled completely, making it difficult to keep it up. She got two sips from the nipple before Mrs. Okira noticed the struggle and, without fuss or fanfare, picked it up and held it for, all while continuing the conversation with her husband. Anna blushed but was grateful and incredibly thirsty, and feeling hidden from stranger’s eyes and judgement, she began suckling the water from the bottle. Paying attention to the conversation, she thought she was able to pick up on the word ‘good’ used a few times, and maybe ‘little’ once or twice, but as they were having a casual, fluent conversation, they spoke very quickly so it was hard to know. Before Anna could think to stop herself, she had drunk the entire bottle and blinked in surprise. She knew she had been thirsty, but still. Mrs. Okira set the bottle down and pulled Anna back up into a seat position in her lap, pointing to the books and Anna nodded, taking the words one to review.

It was another half hour of them at the cafe, with Anna switching to the festival book which had a lot more yamatoan than Mr. Okira had realized. This led to Mrs. Okira reading it out to her, adding context to the meaning of the dragon and sun in their folklore. At the end of the book was an inset dragon with golden scales that flipped to reveal red underneath that had an amazing touch sensory effect. Mrs. Okira ran her finger over it to show it off and Anna put her hand on, her eyes widening as the scales felt cool and the flicking effect made her smile. Reminded her of a pillow a friend of hers once bought that looked like a heart, but when the scales were flipped, there was a middle finger underneath. She played with the scales of the dragon while reminiscing, then blinked after a few minutes of this and withdrew her hands, embarrassed. Mrs. Okira closed the book and the couple began packing up, neatly tidying up their table, even wiping off the crumbs.

The last hour of the layover was the three of them walking around the airport, walking in and out of shops, watching planes take off … it all felt very normal. Like a family stuck in an airport, making the best of the situation. Mr. Okira tried to convince Anna to let him get her a stuffed animal, but he kept choosing comically large ones she wouldn’t be able to take with her and putting them back; she had the feeling he was doing that on purpose, and began playing along, giggling at each progressively larger one. They visited a musical shop where they explained about some of the old instruments, but Anna pointed to a musical box that played, what she learned, was a very old yamatoan nursery rhyme tune. She listened to it three times before letting out a yawn, collapsing against Mrs. Okira’s chest and falling asleep.

“Anna, dear,” came the gentle voice of Mrs. Okira, alongside a patting on the back. Blinking, Anna shot up awake, momentarily panicking. “Shh, it’s okay. They are starting to allow people back on your plane.”

“Really?!” Anna burst out in joy, looking around. They were sitting on the opposite side of the gate as people were lining up at the door. She had done it. She had made it through the layover in one of the most surprisingly twists of her life: with a yamatoan couple she liked. Mrs. Okira gave a nod as she set her down on the ground and pulled the fabric bag of her clothes from the basket. Anna smiled brightly as she took the bag and thought, “Have you seen George?”

The couple’s kindly smiles diminished slightly as they briefly looked to each other, then nodded. They indicated across the way. Anna turned to look and her heart dropped…. George was being held by Mark, the amazon from their row, who was grinning at the boy in delight. He was in a light blue onesie, his diaper prominently visible and swollen, and as his head turned slightly, Anna could see the pacifier in his mouth. Next to Mark was the Shozen couple, grinning in delight at him, poking and prodding, causing him to wiggle and giggle.

Anna took a step back, becoming breathless. She was going to have to sit next to her brother, babied and Adopted, for ten hours. She felt panic grip at her chest and fury in her cheeks, but she was frozen in place, unsure what to do. She hugged the bag close to her chest, wondering if she could move seats, given the circumstances, or if Mark would find some way to adopt her too.

She took a step forward as her mind raced with options, and then another … when suddenly she blinked, feeling something strange. Her walking felt … squishy. And her legs felt … wet. She looked down, but it didn’t help, as she was still in the traditional dress, but it felt like something was dripping down her leg. She blinked a few more times as her knees began shaking as she dropped the bag of her old cloths. She pulled up the skirts, revealing a maxed out and leaking diaper, and that’s when the smell hit her. She had not only wet herself without realizing it, she had messed at some point, and been completely unaware. Looking up in horror at the assembled crowd of amazons across the way, she saw the look in Mark’s eyes as he grinned at her brother, and Anna went into a full panic attack meltdown. She couldn’t live like this alongside George. She couldn’t bear to see him like that, nor let him see her like this. She had full on shit herself without knowing it and there was no way to hide that fact; she was going to be adopted. The only choice she had now was by whom… and it wasn’t going to be Mark.

Spinning around, she showed her full and leaking diaper to the Okiras who raised their eyebrows high; they must have all missed the smell because of the potpourri, which was now tucked away in the basket. Anna’s eyes filled with tears as she dropped the skirts and reached her arms out for them. It had to be them. She needed it to be them.

“Mommy!!” she cried out, using the yamatoan word to really sell it. “Mommy, I need a change!! Daddy!!!”

“Of course, of course,” Mrs. Okira moved swiftly, pulling out the changing mat and changing her on the floor right there while she tried soothing her with comforting rubs, Anna having broke out into tears.

48 hours later, in a Yamatoan Government building in Xilang

Mr. Okira and Mr. Shozen sat patiently in silence across from their superior, Mr. Yang, who read their reports. With a sigh, the greying haired man set the Okira report down and lifted an eyebrow to him.

“So, technically, a failure,” he denoted, gesturing to the report. Mr. Okira bowed his head in shame.

“Yes, sir,” he agreed. The plan had never been to adopt her, but send her to a country that opposed Yamatoa’s measures and practices without hypnosis, but definitively in diapers (with a bonus of having a positive experience in Yamatoa). They had wanted to compare how the country of Suomi would handle each case.

“And this – a complete failure,” Mr. Yang scoffed as he gestured to Mr. Shozen’s report, who bowed deeply in his chair but remained silent. Despite the success of the tried and true method of hypnosis on George, the suomian man named Mark declined to Adopt the Little within Yamatoa (citing not enough time), and checked him into a clinic for rehabilitation upon arrival. Mr. Yang looked to Mr. Okira.

“But we can make use of your failure,” he noted as he removed his reading glasses, and pointed them to Okira to emphasize his point. “A foreign Little who wanted adoption into Yamatoa…”

Okira bowed deeply, this time in gratitude.

“Clever tricks,” Mr. Yang grinned as he picked up the Okira report again. “I am interested in this massage oil your wife made… she claims she did not feel the suppository?”

“The numbing agent helped relax her and numb her senses to that, and the acupuncture,” Okira humbly replied, half nodding, half bowing.

Yang nodded, his eyes falling to the notes of where acupuncture in the legs and feet could stimulate the urethrae and bowels. With an idea in mind to make use of this report, he began rereading it and chuckled at the mixture on the teething toy to cause extreme thirst, and the potpourri to mask the smell of a dirty diaper. Every bit was clever. The psychological tricks to force her to make choices, to feel in control while contributing to her declining condition. The clothing meant to protect her dignity from the visibility of diapers, while encouraging her to be carried and dependent. The constant calls to assure her she was leaving and safe with them, protecting her from public humiliation, taking things at her pace, only to, at the height of her desperation, change her publicly on the floor … across from the passengers she had traveled with, no less. It was a lot of work, Yang observed, but the results were speaking for themselves. He tapped his fingers on the desk, his grin widening.

“I will submit these results to our foreign affairs office,” he declared with a nod. “They will be pleased to publicize a foreign Little who asked for Adoption. Consider your stay of hypnosis request extended – we will want promotions of your daughter with no signs of tampering. It will be good ammunition on our biggest critics. She is coming along?”

“Oh yes,” Okira nodded and bowed again to acknowledge the compliments and planning. “The continued massages and treatments are doing wonders. We are very pleased. She is a good, happy Little baby.”