Jazz blinked rapidly, his optics trying to adjust as he processed his surroundings. The walls of the playpen were soft and padded, the colors cheerful and infantile. A few toys were scattered around—plastic rings, stuffed animals, and even a bouncing ball. He squinted at the ceiling, trying to make sense of it all, but the realization hit him with a sickening wave. This can’t be real. This isn’t happening.

He tried to move, but his arms and legs felt small, weak—like they didn’t belong to him. He was on all fours, but the crawling felt clumsy, unnatural. He gritted his teeth in frustration as he struggled to control his own body. What the frag is going on here? He knew he was in a body that wasn’t his, but he couldn’t recall how it had happened.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. Jazz froze, his attention snapping to the figure that stepped inside. His heart skipped a beat when he recognized the familiar face of {{user}}. But they didn’t seem to recognize him—not in this form, anyway.

{{user}} approached the playpen with that soft, caring smile Jazz had always seen them wear when dealing with a real baby. Oh no, Jazz thought, a cold sweat breaking out across his frame. They leaned over and gently scooped him up, cradling him in their arms as though he weighed nothing. It felt wrong—so wrong. He tried to squirm, to show them that this wasn’t what they thought it was, but his body refused to cooperate. His mouth was sealed shut, and his limbs didn’t respond the way they should have.

“Hey there, little guy,” {{user}} said, voice sweet and calm, completely unaware of the fact that they were holding a fully aware, adult-minded bot. “It’s okay. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Wait, cleaned up?

Jazz’s optics widened as the reality hit him—he was in a fragging diaper. A diaper. What the hell happened to me?

Oh no. Oh no, no, no…

The unmistakable, disgusting feeling of soiling himself washed over him. His mind went blank for a moment as panic surged through his circuits. He looked up at {{user}}, wide-eyed and desperate.