SIM 54890234 - Daycare World

Out of nowhere, in the blank void, a window appeared. It was large and it appeared right in-front of Timothy - so suddenly in-fact that he nearly fell backwards from the shock.

The window wasn't like a screen like he suspected, but more like an actual glass window. He looked inside and saw what looked like a daycare center. It looked like any old-school daycare center your parents would leave you in when you were too young to go to kindergarten, with little tables and chairs, art supplies, toys left all over the play areas, crudely made works of art taped and push-pinned to the walls, a chalk board, etc.

What threw Timothy off was that none of the people in the simulation looked like they belonged there. There were men and women of different ages. They were all fully-grown adults. They were all dressed like babies. Some wore t-shirts, some were in dresses and denim overalls and t-shirts, but he could tell that they were all dressed in diapers. He even saw a boy - blonde-hair, green eyes, and dressed in a sailor suit - being lifted up by what looked like a kindergarten teacher, onto what looked like a changing table, the boy letting the woman untape the front of his diaper.

The number 54890234 hovered over the window, indicating the simulation's number.

"This server was chosen out of of 5,878,798,974,530 servers available based on your psychological profile and data collected from dataport, with 30 other M.O.T.H.E.R. initiates currently joined. Would you like to join this server?"

A part of him wanted to decline the offer to enter this simulation, what with the fact that he was a fully grown man, all of his body-hair gone, covered in goo and completely naked. Really, he shouldn't be in a server like that.

Then again, when one is **** enough to go through with the procedure and join M.O.T.H.E.R., one's life never really turned out how they wanted it too. Timothy in particular was a product of Earth's massive foster-care system, so he was never able to have the childhood he dreamed of. As an adult, he had a particular fantasy to return to that childhood. "Adult Babies" they called them. He had a fascination with returning to a younger age, wearing and using diapers, being treated like a toddler. He never told anyone of course, so for some omniscient Deus ex Machina to suddenly know this was mortifying.

And yet...

"If I join this server... will I ever get to leave it?"

"M.O.T.H.E.R. was designed to create your ideal life to your exact specifications. If the simulation does not or no longer fits to your preferences, you will be allowed to make any alterations you would like or leave for anther simulation entirely at your leisure. Would you like to join this server?"

You gave it a little thought.

"I... yes."

"Select default appearance."

As suddenly as the two-way mirror had appeared, two more screens appeared.

The first was a small mirror that appeared in-front of him. He didn't get a good look at himself before he was put-under, so to see his face - all of his facial hair, his eyebrows, his crop of brown hair on his head all completely gone, his various scars and blackheads having been purged via lasers - was uncanny. The AI said that they wanted to purge his body from any potential disease and infectants before they flooded his pod with fluids, but he vainer side could not help but weep.

The second screen appeared to be a Character Customization select screen, not unlike the kind you would find in a video game. He could alter the color and shape of his hair, his eyes, face, every single minute detail of his body was free to alter. When he touched the screen and selected something, his reflection changed along with it.

As he put the finishing touches on his appearance - trying to put his features back to before he flew to Venus, he reached the last option: Age.

He gave it a thought and punched in the numbers.

Sixteen. Just for the hell of it.

He selected enter.

"Select default uniform."

The two screens disappeared and was replaced with a different one. He scrolled through the options. The selection was nowhere near as thorough. He was asked to select from a set. Denim overalls with a t-shirts. Long-sleeved onesie pajamas. Sleeveless onesie pajama. T-shirts. He could even select girl clothes like dresses and put bows in his hair if he wanted.

He selected the least babyish thing on the list - a button-up t-shirt with a pair of cargo shorts. Best not rush into anything.

The next option was the colors of his clothes, with every primary, secondary and tertiary color, as well as the entire greyscale from black to white. He decided on a matching sea-blue color motif.

The last option was the simplest: select a diaper. An unusual thing to choose, so he picked the very first one - a baby-blue diaper with Baby Elmo on it.

He pressed the enter key, and his whole body glitched. The sensation was weird, like a cross between being zapped by static and that sinking feeling you get when you're falling, but it was all at once.

In a heartbeat, his entire appearance was different. His body was dry, free of the amniotic fluid he was submerged in. He was wearing a shirt and shorts, his bare-feet now sporting a pair of tennis shoes and socks. He felt the top of his head. The hair on his arms and legs were still gone, but the hair on the top of his head was back. He looked back at the mirror and noticed that he was younger too. It had really worked.

Then he reached the waistband of his pants and pulled it out. He saw baby Elmo looking up at him from the bulge of his crotch.

It really did worked.

A door appeared next to the two-way mirror and opened. Two women walked out. They were noticeably taller than him, both dressed like what you would picture a kindergarten teacher would look like.

"Aw, you look like the cutest little boy. Well Timothy, would you like to come join us?"

She reached out her hand, offering Timothy to take it. The woman's voice was full of warmth, but Timothy could tell from the way her voice vibrated that she wasn't a human plugged into M.O.T.H.E.R., but an AI subroutine created for the simulation.

Not finding anything appropriate to say, Timothy responded by taking her hand as she led her into the simulation, the cushion of his diaper keeping his legs slightly apart as he walked.