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Little Ducklings Daycare - Part 1
🕑 Added 2022-05-03 22:19:17 +0000 UTCA journalist tries to uncover the truth about the increasing number of women suffering mysterious “mental breakdowns” that send their minds back to babyhood. Her investigations leads her to a very special daycare, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew when she attempts to infiltrate Little Ducklings.
***
“So you look after Ella by yourself, Mr Graham?” Casey asked.
“That’s right,” Ella’s ex-fiancé replied cheerfully. “Unless I need to go out alone for whatever reason, in which case I’ll usually hire a babysitter, or else see if one of her old friends is available to watch her.”
Casey nodded and made a note on her clipboard – or pretended to, at any rate. It hadn’t been difficult to impersonate a social services worker. All she’d had to do was ring the doorbell and say she’d come for a random check-up, to see if the dependent person was being properly taken care of. She’d had a fake ID card made, but so far nobody had even bothered to give it more than a glance before welcoming her inside. This was the third house she’d visited that day, and Casey found that she was still mentally unprepared for what was waiting for her inside – a woman in the prime of her life reduced to an overgrown toddler. In this case, Ella had been an up-and-coming businesswoman, a rising star in her company and a symbol of female empowerment. Now she was sat on the floor dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and a bulky disposable diaper, playing with barbie dolls with a dumb grin on her face.
“And how exactly did this happen to her?” Casey asked, trying her best to focus on the man in the chair across from her, and not the prattling baby-woman sitting at his feet. “Her records indicate there was no physical injury.”
“It just seems like the stress of work just got too much for her,” Mr Graham said, a little sadly. “I came home one day and found her sucking her thumb and crying her little eyes out because she’d done a wee-wee in her pants.” He reached down and stroked his former fiancée’s hair, running his fingers through one of her pigtails. “I’d tried to warn her that she was going to burn herself out, that she was taking on too many projects, but she didn’t listen. I took her to the hospital of course, and had her examined by all kinds of people, but none of them could find anything physically wrong with her. She just had a mental breakdown that sent her mind right back to babyhood.”
Ella leant her head back and gazed up adoringly at her fiancée-turned-caregiver. He grinned down at her, then reached down to tickle her tummy, making her squeal with delighted laughter and squirm on the floor. Her nappy crinkled noisily, and Casey couldn’t help but stare at it with distaste. Ella was only a year or two older than she was, and it was impossible to look at the gurgling baby-woman without imagining herself in her place. Losing all her dignity and control, to the point where she couldn’t even use a toilet, becoming totally dependent on someone else, being dressed up like an oversized toddler in front of all her friends and family. The thought of ending up like that sent a shiver down Casey’s spine.
But that was all the more reason to investigate. Sure, pretending to work for social services might violate certain standards of ethical journalism, but Casey was certain there was something more to these incidents than mere ‘mental breakdowns’. Confident, independent women, women like her, didn’t suddenly start sucking their thumbs and wetting their pants just because work got a bit tough sometimes. Something else was going on here, she was sure of it.
She opened her mouth to ask Mr Graham another question when Ella suddenly grabbed the hem of her shirt and yanked it up, exposing her large bare breasts. “Boobieth!” she giggled. “I gots boobieth!” Then she started bouncing up and down on her bottom, making her breasts jiggle about madly on her chest.
Casey stared at her in shock. She expected her fiancé to step in and tell the girl to cover herself, but instead he just chuckled. “Yes you do, princess,” he cooed. “What a big girl!”
“Big giwl, Dada!” Ella screeched, as if she had absolutely no concept of an indoor voice.
“Don’t you…” Casey began, tearing her eyes away from the bouncing baby-woman. She cleared her throat. “Don’t you encourage her to… to stay modest?”
Mr Graham laughed. “Oh no, there’s no point in that. Ella hasn’t got any modesty. Not anymore. She used to be so concerned with what people thought of her, but that’s over now.” He turned to his mentally reduced ex-fiancée and smiled. “Isn’t it, darling?”
Ella just giggled happily. It was clear she hadn’t been following their conversation at all.
Mr Graham turned back to her. “Honestly, it’s hard enough getting her to keep her nappy on. Her old business partners came round to visit her the other day, and she pulled off her Pampers and started running around bare-bottomed!”
Casey forced herself to laugh along with him, but in reality the thought was enough to turn her stomach. Not long ago, this woman had been on the cusp of a great career, a role model for girls everywhere. Now she was just a joke.
At that moment, Ella let out a loud grunt. She was sitting up on her knees, her face scrunched up as if in concentration. For a moment, Casey didn’t understand what was going on, but then the front of Ella’s nappy started to darken, and the back began to sag, and she realised that the former businesswoman was filling her diaper right in front of them.
Mr Graham laughed again. “Are you working on your latest project, princess?” he teased, patting the expanding seat of Ella’s Pampers.
Ella grunted again, straining as hard as she could to poop her pants, her face flushed with exertion.
Casey felt her own face turn crimson as well, only in her case from the second-hand embarrassment of watching a grown woman wet and mess herself like a helpless two-year-old. But she found that she couldn’t look away.
At last, Ella’s face slackened, and she looked up at them with a vacant smile. “Uh-oh!” she chirped. “Done uh-oh!” Her nappy was weighed down by pee, and by the heavy load in the back, so that it sagged halfway down to her knees, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“You certainly did, baby!” Mr Graham cooed. “Did you make a big poo-poo in your pants for Daddy?”
Ella giggled and nodded, then held out her arms for a cuddle.
Her ex-fiancé chuckled and knelt down to pull her into a big hug. He peaked over her shoulder and reached around her back, slipping a finger into the waistband of her nappy and pulling it out. “You really filled these up, sweetheart! I think someone needs a change!”
He looked up at Casey, who was doing her best to make it seem like she wasn’t equal parts disgusted and horrified by what had just happened. “You don’t mind if I change her now, do you?” he asked politely. “I don’t want her getting a rash.”
“Oh no, of course not!” Casey said, managing to keep her voice steady. “I don’t really need to ask you any more questions anyway.” She forced a smile she wasn’t sure was even half convincing. “It’s clear she’s in good hands. I’ll get going and leave you to take care of her.”
Mr Graham smiled, and Casey thought there was something unnerving about the way he was looking at her. “Thank you for all the work you do,” he said. “It’s important that girls like Ella have people looking out for them.” His eyes sparkled. “But don’t work too hard,” he grinned, “or you might just end up on the changing mat next to her!”
Casey forced another laugh, a laugh that sounded unnaturally high-pitched, and hurriedly left the living room. She glanced nervously behind her as she walked up to the small table that stood in the hallway, where the landline sat, and picked up the address book beside it. She flipped through the pages as fast she could, praying that Mr Graham was too busy wiping his former fiancée’s ass to investigate why she was taking so long to leave.
J, then K, then L, and then there it was, the same number and address she’d seen in the address books of the other two houses she’d investigated. Little Ducklings Daycare. Casey memorised the address and rushed out of the house. Twice was a coincidence, but three times…
