Group Circle

Their caretakers came, woke them up, bottle fed them, and changed them (something made harder with all the fur). All of the babies were brought out to the third floor community area.

It was set up like a regular daycare. The walls were painted with colorful murals of animals and ABCs and 123s. There were play areas full of toys for students who were at different stages of regression. There was even a corner dedicated solely for diaper changings, including a large foam mat to lie them back down, changing supplies, and a wall full of well-organized varieties of diapers meant to accommodate the many different body-types Fisher Kingdom babies came in.

While some of the students decided to pick a corner and play -- sometimes in groups, others in solitude -- students who felt like it would attend a group.

Various animal-humans would sit on a pillow of their choosing in a circle, cushioning their already cushioned bottoms even further. The exception to this was a counselor who sat in a chair with a clipboard.

Babies took turns talking about their thoughts and feelings whenever the "talkie-ball" was passed over to them. Anything they felt like talking about, they talked about. If someone had anything they wanted to add, the ball would go to them. Most of the time, they would talk about what their respective worlds were like. The inhabitants who adopted them. How much they missed them and wanted to see them again.

You'd be lucky if the group didn't end with at least one of the babies bursting out in sobbing fits. And if one of them started crying, soon enough all of them did, and they would all need comforting with backrubs and assurances that everything would be fine.

Being magically infantilized made one really in touch with one's emotions.

The current holder of the talkie-ball was a frog boy. He was talking about his world, a swampland called The Marshes. He would talk about his "brothers and sisters", other worldwalkers under the protection of Mama Toad and the catfish mermaids who would babysit her polywogs. He would talk about the countless kiddie pools they would play in. He would complain about how "dry" the swim diapers the Institute would put him in were. He wore them even when he wasn't in the water because the mucus on his skin made normal diapers useless.

Jane wasn't listening, and she wasn't really interested in talking either. She sat on her pillow, furiously scratching herself with one of her hind paws. It was shedding time, and her pillow was going to be covered in cat hair by the time the group let out.

Shedding wasn't all that unusual for Petting Zoo students who took on mammalian or reptilian traits, and caregivers would sometimes brush them down before bedtime. It felt nice, but it only worked to a point.

She remembered back at the Temple, whenever the tiger people started to shed their old coats, they would visit communal baths filled with lotus plants and herbs and oils that left everyone smelling like flowers. Her mommy and all the other tigresses would bring their cubs to the baths and scrub them all down, the cubs sharing bath toys and enjoying the warmth. Then, when all their old fur washed away into the currents, mommy would lick what was left clean, leaving her coat shiny and new before putting her down for her nap.