Gnome, Thief... Baby? (Commission)

This was a pair of stream commissions with the concept of a D&D-esque setting where a gnome got captured by intelligent ogres and was babied. I normally don't write sequels like this with a stream commission, but for some reason I did it here, so... enjoy!

Faeza slipped through the enormous buildings, darting between huts and small houses, staying out of sight. 

It wasn’t hard. Ogres were stupid, brutish creatures who barely knew what their own kind were doing. They’d never notice one as small as her, not when she was being so careful, ducking and sliding out of sight. 

Their whole village was a sneak-thief’s paradise. Giant obstacles to hide behind, easy treasure in every home, and every last villager was as dumb as a bag of rocks. Sneaking through was effortless, as easy as pie, barely even-

“Urp!” she yelped as a giant, rough hand caught the back of her collar. Faeza found herself hefted in the air, kicking her legs and flailing helplessly to get free like a kitten held in her mother’s grasp.  

“What’s here?” asked a loud, rough voice. “A little one?” 

“Let me down!” Faeza demanded, trying to look over her shoulder and see who was keeping her suspended in the air. How did I get caught? How did they see me?

“Is it a thief?” the ogre questioned. “Come to steal our treasures?” 

Faeza kicked her legs harder, to no avail. “No! Piss off!”

There was a pause, and then a couple fingers, almost as big around as Faeza’s closed fists, snapped the shoulder bands of her backpack and dumped its contents onto the ground. 

Out fell her spoils of the day. Coins, all of Ogre mint. Rings that were big enough to be a bracelet for Faeza, and bracelets big enough to go around her waist. All of it clearly the possessions of the villagers she’d been stealing from. 

“It is a thief,” the ogre confirmed. “And we have only one thing we do with a thief.” 

“Oh yeah?” Faeza snapped, trying to wrestle her collar free from the ogre’s grasp. If she could get on her feet, she could run for it. 

“You may have saw,” the ogre grumbled. “We don’t got no jails. That’s because we don’t take prisoners.” 

Oh gods. They’re going to kill me. 

Faeza went cold. “P-please! I’m sorry, just don’t kill me, I’ll-” 

Laughter, loud enough that it made Faeza’s ears hurt. “Little thing!” it chortled. “We’re not savages! We wouldn’t kill a little child-being.” 

Thank goodness. 

“We raise the naughty ones to be good!” 

Huh?

Without another word, the ogre began walking towards the end of the village, towards a small hut that Faeza had avoided when she came through. It was the child-rearing hut. There was no gold there, certainly, no reason for her to visit as a thief. Then again, she could see no reason why they would take her there as a criminal, either. 

Throwing open the door, the ogre stepped inside. “Nala! I have a little troublemaker for your care.” 

Another ogre spun, wearing an apron and blouse that were made with enough fabric that it could have clothed Faeza a dozen times over. 

“Ah,” the big ogre - Nala - said, her voice slightly less rough but no less intimidating. “Give her to me, then.” 

“I’m- not- lemme go!” Faeza protested, as she was passed from one ogre to another. Nala held her, not by the collar, but by the hand, so that she was dangling from her arm like a ragdoll. 

When Nala produced a knife, though, Faeza stopped squirming. “Please-” 

Two quick strokes with the blade, and Faeza’s clothes simply dropped to the ground, cut so delicately that she was unhurt while the garments were completely destroyed. Blushing at her nakedness, she tried to cover her chest and cross her legs as she was carried over to a high, padded table.

Nala moved with smooth certainty, the grace of someone who’d done this a thousand times before, and completely neutralized all of Faeza’s kicking and fussing. In a flurry of powder, padding, and safety pins, Faeza went from angry rogue to fussy, diapered baby in a matter of seconds. 

Sitting up, she looked down at herself. Nala had let go of her arm for a moment, and she was technically free to move, but the absorbent cloth between her legs would make running nigh-impossible, and before she could come up with a plan of escape, a pastel pink sundress was yanked over her head. 

“Sneak-thiefs are no good,” Nala explained in a chiding tone, picking up Faeza and carrying her to the next room, where cribs large enough for a gnome to stretch out and not touch both ends were set. “Got raised wrong. We’ll raise you right, you’ll learn to be good.” 

“Huh?” Faeza asked, as she was dropped into one of the cribs. Despite its size, the bars were narrow enough that she couldn’t slip through, and they were magic-slicked and impossible to climb. 

“Get some sleep, baby!” the ogre declared, winking out the lamp that gave the room its only light. 

Faeza sank back into her crib, the picture of a perfect ogre baby.

Part 2

“Who’s a stinky baby?” Nala cooed, reaching down into the crib to pick up Faeza. 

Diaper drooping beneath her dress, Faeza grumbled, “... me.” 

Nala beamed at her, tossing her up in the air slightly. “Is it you?” 

“Yes, already,” Faeza complained. “It’s me.” 

“I think it’s you!” Nala declared. “Let’s get you changed, okay?” 

Three days. It’s already been three days, and I’m not any closer to escaping. 

The ogress carried her off to the next room with the changing pad, to begin the uncomfortably familiar ritual of changing Faeza’s dirty diaper. Seventy two hours and a dozen diapers had gone by, and already this was starting to feel… routine. 

It’s okay. I’m going to find a way out of here. 

Laying her down, Nala hummed a happy tune as she unpinned Faeza’s diaper, wiping her clean with a wash rag. “Hmm.” 

“What?” Faeza asked, sitting up. She was used to her words being ignored, but she didn’t want to get in the habit of just letting things passively happen to her. 

“I think baby needs a bath!” Folding up the old diaper, she tossed it in the washing pail and lifted Faeza once again, carrying her off to the bathroom.

The ogres were, Faeza though, uncivilized, but they still had magical plumbing. A wooden tub was filled with hot water and bubbles. Taking a rag, Nala began scrubbing Faeza down, careful not to get soap in her eyes, but otherwise offering Faeza little privacy or dignity. 

She couldn’t help but giggle when Nala scrubbed her toes, but that only made things worse, as Nala stopped washing for a minute and began tickling her instead. 

Once dry and towelled off, the two of them were back to the changing table. A liberal amount of powder ensured that her skin was dry and would remain rash-free, and a fresh, thick layer of cloth padding was pinned in place. 

“Now, who wants breakfast?” 

“Is it more slop?” Faeza asked, rolling her eyes. 

“Excuse me?” 

Of, of course. That’s the one thing you choose to actually listen to. 

Trying to backpedal, Faeza started, “I mean, um, yes? I’m-” 

“Bad baby!” Nala declared. “You will be grateful for what I feed you!” 

“O-okay!” Faeza yelped, wanting to avoid getting in more trouble. It was too late. 

Dragging over a stool - or, from Faeza’s perspective, a table - Nala sat down, placed the poor gnome over her lap face-down, and began a barrage of relentless spanks with an open hand. 

She didn’t have to try very hard to make it hurt. As strong as ogres were in general, even a light slap was plenty painful, and Nala was spanking hard enough to get through the layers of padding that Faeza was pinned in. 

Only when Faeza was sniffling and tears were running down her face did Nala stop, sit her up, and give her a rough hug. “There, baby. Will you be good?” 

“Y-yes,” Faeza whimpered.

“Good. Breakfast?” 

Picking up the gnome without further comment, the ogress nanny carried them off to the kitchen. Faeza’s high chair - the chair I sit in, it’s not mine, don’t think of this place like you belong here - was set up already, and a pot of bubbling oatmeal was set up on the stove. 

Latched into the high chair, she could only wait as her caretaker scooped up a bowl of the oatmeal and, one spoonful at a time, began the feeding process. 

I swear, she gets it on my face on purpose, Faeza grumbled to herself, trying to move her mouth so that the oatmeal would go from the spoon to her tongue, and not end up smeared all over her cheeks. She was only successful about half the time, and every meal inevitably ended with her face completely covered in whatever food she was being given. 

Wiping her off, Nala chided, “Someday, you’ll have to learn to eat like a clean baby!” 

That confirms it. She definitely does it on purpose.

“Well, do you need a change before playtime?” 

Faeza rolled her eyes. She’d been changed less than an hour ago. Of course she didn’t need a change, she hadn’t even-

“Ooh, you’re awfully wet,” Nala declared, testing the front of her diaper with two fingers. “Let’s get you in a freshie, just to be safe.” 

“Wh-what?” Nala whimpered, looking down. She didn’t remember peeing, but sure enough, her diaper was close to being soaked through. 

For the first time, she considered that she actually might be here for a while. 

Gulp.