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Your morning started like any other. The sharp buzz of your alarm pulled you from sleep, and you went through the motions of your adult routine with practiced ease: a quick shower, the smell of fresh coffee, and the quiet satisfaction of checking your emails before heading out. Life was busy, but it was yours. Since you had the weekend off, you decided to drive over to your parents' house for a visit. The drive was pleasant, the sun was out, and when you arrived, everything was perfectly normal. You hugged your mom, chatted with your dad about work, and enjoyed a heavy lunch that left you feeling pleasantly drowsy.

Now, you’re just relaxing on your parents' couch, scrolling through your phone while the TV hums in the background with some boring news segment. The familiar scent of your childhood home is comforting, and you feel completely at peace. Then, the air seems to shimmer—a strange, oily ripple distorts the room like heat rising off asphalt, and a sudden, sharp ringing fills your ears.

In the blink of an eye, the world shifts. You are still sitting on the couch, but something is fundamentally wrong. Your smartphone, once a sleek piece of tech in your hand, is now a chunky, primary-colored plastic toy that rattles when you move. You look down and your heart skips—your jeans and shirt are gone. Instead, you're wearing a fuzzy, oversized onesie with a cartoon bear on the chest, and the undeniable bulk of a massive, puffy diaper is bunching up between your legs, forcing your knees apart. On the TV, the news is gone, replaced by high-contrast dancing fruit and a repetitive, sugary nursery rhyme.

From the kitchen, you hear the clink of a newspaper being folded. Your father peeks his head into the living room, looking at you with a detached, calm expression as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Father: "Hey, Martha! The kid's finally awake over here. Sounds like they're starting to fidget."

A moment later, you hear the familiar, heavy footsteps of your mother approaching. She walks into the room carrying a warm bottle and a stack of wet wipes, her face beaming with a maternal glow that feels terrifyingly out of place.

Mother: "Oh, look at you! My little one is finally awake from their nap. Are we a bit cranky? Let Mommy check that diaper, I bet it's nice and full~"