Rita yawns with a long stretch. The cat looks around to see that she still in the alleyway she initially fell asleep in. She was still sleeping on Runt’s back, the dumb dog himself still sleeping. Smiling, she lets out a sigh of relief. Perhaps that entire thing had been a dream. That hippo, Margaret, if she remembered it correctly and those dogs from before. All of that had to have been a dream, right?
Lightly scratching her back, she walks out of the alleyway to look for food. She crashes into the front alleyway wall. Rubbing her face, Rita looks to the alleyway wall, “What the…” 
The wall falls backwards along with three others to unveil she was in a nursery. Bright pink walls plastered with adorable with baby Looney Tunes characters now surrounded her. A complete tea party set next to a toy chest. A changing table and a dresser next to each other. Finally, a crib with a musical note mobile dandling. 
Ears droop, she backups in shock until she trips over Runt. At that moment, something dawned on Rita: this Runt was a life-sized plushie. Before she could react, the plushie held her in a bear hug. The cat fought and ordered the plush mutt to let her go, commands that fell on death ears. A monitor next to the playpen came on, Margaret giggling at her captive.
“Well good morning little kitten,” Margaret greets. Rita growls and spits at the monitor.
“Listen, you’d better let me out of this or-mmpgh?!” Rita’s ultimatum is silenced by Plush-Runt popping a pacifier into her mouth. Straps from the pacifier tie themselves around her head, rendering her protests to muffled nonsense. Margaret chuckles while Rita continues to her muffled threats and demands.
“Like I told you and the dogs, your cooperation is not required. Appreciated but, not required. You’re going to spend a day or two here. Afterwards, you and the others will be released. So be a good test subject, our research is very important.” Margaret informs. The monitor shuts off, leaving Rita and her plush companion alone for the moment. Of course, it didn’t take Rita long to figure what she’d be testing for them. This realization made Rita’s ears flatten, spending her day as a baby wasn’t how she thought her day would go.
Her plush companion drops her onto the changing table. Immediately, mechanical hands pin her arms and legs to the table. Plush-Runt searches the dresser for an outfit for his charge, whilst the hands gather supplies. Meanwhile, Rita’s eyes dart around the nursery in search of an exit. Then all she needed would be a moment to escape.
If I’ve learned anything from, her thoughts were interrupteded by a chill to her spine. A diaper was slid underneath her as a powderpuff powders her crotch area. Despite her muffled protests and threats, her diaper is taped to her waist. Staring at it, she noticed her legs were forced apart no matter how hard she fought to bring them together.
The hands on her arms and legs release her, staying stationary above her. Looking over, her plush caretaker returned with a familiar looking outfit. In one paw, a yellow dress with white ruffles that would probably cover half her diaper, if lucky. In the other, an adorable yellow bonnet. Recognizing the outfit to be the one that gorilla forced her into a while back, Rita adamantly shakes her head to protest. 
Sensing their collective charge wouldn’t willingly wear the outfit, the hands descend upon her. The hands cease when Rita raises her arms. Margaret had already proven she’d get her way. Perhaps, it would better to cooperate for the moment. At the very least, the diaper felt…snuggle and comfortable. The safe and secured feeling being padded possessed.
The mere thought of it left her purring with closed eyes. All the while, Plush-Runt is able to dress his charge with a smile. Rita’s eyes burst open when her caretaker pats her head. Burning with blush, she stares at the ground.
Keep it together. Make it through this and you’ll get to go…home, she thought. Her head shoots upward as she worries for the actual Runt. Without her, that mutt would probably get himself thrown in the pound. Or considering their luck, killed by a pack of sickos. She had to get back now! At the very least, she had to know that her friend was safe from harm.
Don’t worry about Runt. I’ll keep him safe, whispers a familiar voice. Strangely enough, Rita couldn’t recall whom this voice belonged to. The only thing she knew for certain was that it was feminine. Even so, hearing it left her with a warm nostalgic yet bitter feeling. Regardless, Rita leaves Runt’s fate to the voice. 
The clicking sound of a high chair tray brought Rita back to reality. She flexes her sore jaw after her caretaker pulls out the pacifier. A mechanical hand drops a bowl of colorless mush in front of the cat. She eyes the strange food with skeptical eyes.
“You don’t really expect me to eat that? I may look like a baby, doesn’t mean I-” her sentence was cut off by Plush-Runt shoving a spoonful of mush into her mouth. Though colorless, it certainly didn’t lack taste. Cartoonishly, Rita’s eyes erupt in fireworks. Purring at the shockingly tasty mush, she opens her mouth for another spoonful. With each spoonful, a mechanical hand pets her while playing audio complimenting her for being a good kitten.
It wasn’t long before it was all gone, the cat looking forlorn. This had been the first time she’s gotten to eat something so delectable. At least not since…her first owner. Her original master who fed her all kinds of scrumptious treats and snacks. Of course, until she was, in their eyes…
“PLAYTIME!” The bowl is taken by a nearby hand, Plush-Runt removing Rita from the high chair. She latches onto him tightly, resisting the urge to cry. Regardless of her effort, tears roll down her cheek, the cat softly sobbing.
I’m not dirty. I’m not ugly. Rita shakes her head, wiping away potential tears. If Plush-Runt could speak, words akin to ‘it’s alright’ or ‘what’s the matter baby’ would come out its maw. So instead, Plush-Runt stops in its tracks, bouncing while patting it charge’s back. Amidst her softening sobs, a light burp erupts from her mouth. In a nearly insulting way, the burp had lifted her prior sadness. Now, she laid limp in her caretaker’s arms with a content smile. 
Plush-Runt’s grip loosens on her, standing Rita up in front of the toy chest. Standing was a bit awkward due to the diaper’s thickness, yet she managed. Above the chest was a timer counting down from roughly an hour and a sign reading: ‘Pick One Plushie’.
“Pick one plushie,” Rita repeats to herself.  Staring into the toy chest, she stares at the array of plushies. None stood out to her, yet she continued to look. Nearing the bottom, she took notice of a Brian plushie. Picking it up, she examines it closely. On it back there was a cord connected to a sting. 
“SOMEBODY SAVE…me from being lonely. What’s your name, little girl?” the plushie asks. Eyes widen, Rita drops it back into the chest. The color from Rita’s face faded. If that was the actual Brian, what had become of the others? More importantly, was this a result of fighting back against the hippo’s orders?
That thought alone was enough to choose Brian. If nothing else, he’d probably be safer with her than not. Having chosen her plushie, Plush-Runt carries her over the tea party set. The tea party went out about as one would expect. Plush-Runt forcing Rita to play as host, the cat acting vastly out of character for fear of plushification. Yet, her eyes never left Brian. 
Who the hell are we dealing with? She thought. The timer eventually hits zero, a preschool bell ringing signaling the end. The seams keeping Plush-Runt’s mouth closed undid themselves. A bright blue powder lightly sprinkles over Rita. She covers her mouth and nose, blocking the powder. 
To remedy the problem, a hand yanks on Rita’s tail. Yelping, she takes in quite a dosage of the powder. Not enough to outright put her to sleep; however, she was left in a lethargic state. Losing her balance, she falls into Plush-Runt’s ready arms. Snuggling close to him, the nipple of a bottle enters her mouth. The cat drifts off to sleep, suckling away like the kitten she was dressed as.
xxx
In her office, Margaret went over the footage of her research subjects. All of which were leading to valuable data. Fu Dog and Duke were each in separate areas, bombarded with hypnotic colors. Fu Dog is receiving an enema, diapered just like Rita. Meanwhile, Duke, dressed in drag, is having tailhole being pummeled away by another dog.
“Jennifer and Xavier, how are the subjects in your care?” Margaret asks. 
“So far nothing abnormal to report,” Jennifer announces.
“Likewise,” Xavier, a golden retriever, reports. Margaret gives a nod of approval. Even Brian’s plushification had gone swimmingly. Yet, they had to stay observant. Sure, their research is of heavy importance to them. Nevertheless, the lives of the subjects were also important. They needed to ensure the certain safety of future clientele.
“Wonderful darlings! Take note and inform me of any changes.” Margaret instructs. The duo and resume their work. She then turns her attention back to Rita. At this moment an idea popped into her head. A malicious grin begins to form on her face.
Perhaps I should focus on memory and perception alteration. As well as group interaction.
xxx
Laying dormant as its charge slept, Plush-Runt reactivates. Having received Margaret’s initial command, its paws on take on faint sparks. Standing over its charge, sparks flicker off its pawns onto Rita. Fortunately, the shocks caused no visible harm to her. After a minute of harmless shocks, Plush-Runt leaves the room with the Brian plushie.
An hour or so later, Rita awakes to find herself in the nursery, to her begrudgement. However, to her surprise, the actual Runt was here. In his paws, she was carrying h to a bounce. Happily, he remarks, “Nice to see you awake, yeah, defi-definitely nice to see you awake.”
Was it all a dream? That strange hippo and those dogs? Rita wonders. The last memory that came to mind was being put down for a nap after playtime. The earliest memory of the day was Runt changing her out of her night diaper. Searching further back, she found no memory to contradiction it. Shrugging off the thought, Rita noticed a budging bag near the changing table.
Her eyes widen, and she visibly trembles at the mere sight of a bag. It was probably the size of a gallon or two, all of which was going inside of her. In a feeble protest, she shakes her head, complaining, “Oh come on! That’s a little excessive, don’t ya think?”
	Runt ignores Rita’s continued protests. He drops her onto the changing table. Expertly maneuvering around his squirmy charge, he secures her to the table. Even still, Rita fights against her impending fate. The enema nozzle is carefully and slowly lubed up before her eyes. Knowing it to be useless, she lets out one last plea.
	“Runt please…” Rita trails off. Her diaper is lowered and the enema nozzle shoved inside her. Rita lets out an, admittedly, adorable squeal. Initially, the fluid flowed quite smoothly. Perhaps, this wouldn’t be so bad.
She couldn’t have been more wrong in her entire existence.
Rita grips the table as hard as she could.  It wasn’t even a full ten seconds and she’d never felt so full. Water sloshing around in her while her stomach inflates. Rita’s body trembles and her asshole quivered. Her breathing became fanatic, enough that Runt felt the need to cease his actions. 
Eventually, the flow of water became slower and slower. Craning her neck upward, she saw her tight stomach bulging with enema fluid. Her efforts to expel it was extinguished with a butt-plug swiftly shoved in place of the nozzle. Unable to expel the enema, her stomachs gurgles. Tears roll down her cheeks, shortly turning into actual sobs.
“Don’t cry, Rita. Defi-defi-definitely don’t cry. If you wanna go potty real bad then go potty,” Runt raises his paws high in the air. His charge whimpers, instantly realizing his objective.  Rita grits her teeth and simply accepts her fate. Not like she had a choice anyway. 
Runt’s paw slams on her stomach. The plug holding back the enema might as well not have existed. Akin to a dam breaking, the plug shot out her anus. Grunting in a cute way, her stomach deflates as her diaper expands. A mixture of thick muck and enema fluid oozed out her tailhole. Along with a nearing permanent blush, she felt an unescapable empty felling. In addition to a contradicting full feeling.
	“Did little Rita make messies in her diaper like a small baby?” Runt teases, gently squeezing her diaper. Rita whimpers, staring at her bloated diaper. Before she wasn’t certain if she could walk, now she knew she’d forced to crawl. Forced to drag this filthy thing around until Runt changed her. 
	I can’t believe he made me do that. Yet, it feels so…good. Without realizing it, Rita found herself purring. Runt removes the straps binding her to the table, now moving over to a rocking chair. Rocking his back and forth, she slowly dozes off. In Runt’s arms, she felt safe and secure, granted her crotch was bouncing over mush. In the nursery, she felt similar. She’d never have to worry about finding a home. As if reaffirming her belief, Runt kissed her forehead
	“Go back to sleep. We’ll, definitely, have more fun later,” Runt promises. Shortly after, Rita doses off in her friend’s lap with a happy grin. The mismatched duo sat in perfect bliss. Unfortunately, reality wasn’t so pleasant to the poor cat. The monitor near the playpen reactivates, Margaret, looking rather pleased.
	“Alright onto phase two. Take Rita to Duchess. Fuella will be there as well for a group activity,” Margaret orders. Runt nods, staring at its charge with its glossy eyes. Reality sent in, the illusion of Runt’s presence, ending. Heaving Rita over its shoulder, Plush-Runt follows his creator’s commands.