Intelligence Drain

"Buh—But why?" she asked, backed against the wall.

The woman, the one who called herself "Mommy" sauntered up with an extended hand, aiming it at her. "I simply couldn't pass up a cutey like you."

The woman had offered the experience of a lifetime and even when she discovered it meant being diapered and babied she was still into it. However, as the clothes came off and the thick padding went on something changed.

She wasn't just feeling babyish: the urge to act in a way that matched her attire was growing uncontrollably. A line of drool was already snaking down from her lips, her tongue lolling out lazily.

The extended hand captivated her to the point where she couldn't help but stare. The air around it swirled and moved to create a hypnotic pattern that locked her attention in place.

She stared straight ahead, letting her body fall to the ground. She landed on her knees with her hands out in front of her to support her leaning torso. This left her butt sticking out, showing off the cartoonish lion decorating the seat of the diaper.

“N-No… I…” It was becoming harder to think, to process the world around her beyond the swirling air by the hand. Even as she struggled to piece together any thoughts that didn’t revolve around the mesmerizing hand, the remnants of her adult subconscious attempted to get her back on her feet.

*crinkle* *crinkle*

Even after multiple failed crinkle-filled attempts to rise from her knees, she refused to give up, though her legs and waist grew heavier with exhaustion until she had barely enough for one last attempt to stand and… escape? Anyways, while under Mommy’s full watch she finally managed to wiggle and hoist herself into her well-earned squat at the cost of creating a plethora of diaper noises.

*crankle* *crackle*

Right away she noticed something odd: she was definitely squatting, and yet it felt like… like she was sitting.

*crackle*

Not only that, but the crinkling was sounding a lot like—

“Ngh!?” As if waiting for her awareness before really getting started, she experienced a single subtle pang in her bowels before whatever resistance she had left vanished. The diaper, already packed full enough to act as a makeshift seat for the unwilling girl, began sagging far faster than should be possible as it lifted the girl higher off the ground.

Warm mush pushed from her body, an act she always found embarrassing in a normal situation, though now it was a distant heat settling in the back of her pants and she couldn’t care less. Her eyes lost any of their remaining focus, unable to think about anything besides looking at Mommy’s hand as she messed herself, letting loose intermittent flatulence that mingled with her accident.

The back of her diaper grew heavy and lumpy, bulging backward away from her to contain the putrid pile within. Each push represented a thought that left her head with little more than dim satisfaction as she dumped the entirety of her intelligence into her pants.

Grunts and groans filled the air for several minutes, an inordinate amount of soft matter had filled the back of her diaper. It had to: she'd been a well-learned professor before and there was an abundance of information to purge. When the brainpower supplying the flow of sludge ran out the gross noises finally petered out and the woman pulled her hand back, ending the intoxicating spell that had sealed her victim’s fate from the start. No amount of worry remained behind her eyes, just the vacant stare of a blank canvas, ready for Mommy to raise.

“Wonderful.” Mommy said, stepping forward to grab her.

As a blank slate she didn’t question unimportant details like why Mommy was so strong or why Mommy would want her as a baby—why would she? What mattered was the new squishy feeling in her pants, the one that elicited a giggle whenever she bounced up and down in mommy’s arms, enjoying the new sensation immensely.

“You’d better get used to it,” Mommy said, “you may not have any more thoughts to push into your pants but I like my babies to be well fed. That’s far from your last stinky diaper, little missy.”

She giggles, letting another string of drool fall to the bib covering her otherwise bare breasts. The words don’t even register to her, her mind already too far gone to be anything other than a diaper dependent pamper packer.