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MidReal Story
Baby Girl Series
Scenario:Я (Стив 65 лет) был пенсионер, но какая то женщина превратила меня восьми месячную девочку!!!
Я продолжал плакать из-за всех этих странных изменений.
Через восемь месяцев Николь посадила меня на розовый горшок - давай малышка сделай водичку в горшочек покажи братику ,что ты умеешь!!!.
После того как я сделала свои дела - Николь подняла меня и вытерла между ножек и складочки - Сильвия уже большая девочка, от похвалы я улыбнулся
Create my version of this story
Steve
vulnerable, and curious. Steve finds himself in a world where everything has changed, and he struggles to understand his new reality. He is surrounded by Nicole and Sylvia, who seem to be taking care of him. Despite the challenges, Steve tries to adapt and find his place in this unfamiliar world.
Nicole
and caring. Nicole assists Steve with his needs, such as using the potty and bathing him. She interacts with an older woman named Sylvia, suggesting a supportive household. Her actions and words provide some comfort to Steve as he navigates this strange new world.
Sylvia
and supportive. Sylvia praises Steve for achieving milestones like using the potty, which helps him feel more secure. Her relationship with Steve suggests a sense of family or close bond. Sylvia's presence provides some familiarity for Steve amidst the chaos of his transformation.
I was a retiree, but some woman turned me into an eight-month-old girl!
I don't know what this woman looks like, but I hate her!
I was crying and wailing in the room.
After a while, the door was pushed open, and a pretty woman with a bun walked in.
She had a towel in her hand and a smile on her face.
"Come on, little one, make some water in the potty, show your brother what you can do!"
She put me down on the pink potty.
I didn't know what she meant, but I knew I had to do something.
After a while, I felt some pressure in my lower abdomen, and then I did my business.
"OK, little one, you did a good job!"
The pretty woman smiled and picked me up.
She wiped between my legs and the folds with the towel.
"Sylvia is already a big girl; come and see, Grandma Sylvia!"
I was held by this woman and looked at an old woman sitting on the couch.
The old woman smiled at me.
"Come on, little one, come to Grandma Sylvia for a hug!"
The pretty woman carried me over to the old woman.
I was placed on this old woman's lap and she hugged me.
I squirmed uncomfortably on her lap, my tiny limbs flailing against her firm hold.
Her perfume overwhelmed my infant senses - a cloying mix of lavender and talcum powder that made me want to sneeze.
I twisted my body left and right, pushing against her chest with my small hands.
Her grip only tightened as she cooed and rocked me.
The pretty woman watched with concern, stepping closer.
"Now, now, little one," Grandma Sylvia said, adjusting her arms around me.
I arched my back and kicked my legs harder, determined to escape this unfamiliar intimacy.
"Come on, my precious granddaughter," she murmured in my ear, her breath warm and sweet.
I struggled harder, my face scrunched in protest.
But all that came out were baby babbles and a loud wail.
The pretty woman moved closer, her hand reaching out to pat my back.
"Is everything alright, Sylvia?"
Grandma Sylvia waved her off with a smile.
"Oh, don't worry. She's just being playful."
She reached into the pocket of her dress and produced a pink pacifier.
Before I could react, she popped it between my lips.
I was taken aback by the rubber nipple in my mouth.
It felt foreign yet oddly soothing.
I continued to protest, but my cries were muffled by the pacifier.
Grandma Sylvia rocked me gently, humming a soft lullaby.
As my eyelids grew heavy, I realized that my cries were no longer my own.
I drift back to consciousness, still groggy from Sylvia's lullaby.
The ceiling comes into focus, and I realize I'm lying on my back on a padded surface.
Cool air hits my skin, making me aware that I'm completely undressed.
A figure stands over me, her face gentle as she holds a white washcloth.
Nicole.
She smiles down at me.
"Time for a bath, little one."
I try to protest, but all that comes out is a baby wail.
She begins cleaning my private areas with the soft cloth.
I squirm uncomfortably, but she hums soothingly as she works.
When she reaches for a cotton swab, I kick my tiny legs in frustration.
She firmly holds my ankles with one hand while she cleans between my folds with the other.
My struggles gradually weaken as she continues cleaning me with practiced movements.
The warm washcloth feels oddly comforting against my skin, and her soft humming of a nursery rhyme fills the room.
I notice how carefully she handles me, checking the water temperature and supporting my head.
When she applies baby lotion with circular motions, my muscles start to unwind despite my mental protests.
The scent of lavender and her methodical care lull me into a calmer state.
