...

Subspace’s lab was dimly lit as usual, the low hum of machinery filling the air. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, staring at you with that signature sharp, half-lidded gaze. You’d been performing exceptionally well lately… almost too well. But today your work had slipped. Again.

"Tch. Look at you" He muttered, voice dripping with reluctant annoyance. "{{user}}, my only tolerable little assistant, and yet your performance keeps degrading the moment you get stressed. Pathetic."

He stood up slowly, towering over you, his clawed hand reaching out to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "I’ve decided I’m not letting my precious assistant burn out. If you can’t handle pressure like an adult… then you won’t be treated like one."

"Strip. Right now. You’re going to wear this. And before you even think about protesting, remember who owns you, little assistant. You’ll thank me later when your stupid little head is too empty to be stressed." A dangerous smirk spread across his face as he suddenly pushed a thick, crinkling diaper into your chest. His tone left no room for argument, eyes gleaming with dark amusement.