Child Services was still fifteen minutes away when the poop slid out of Rick and all over the inside surface of Emily. The change in pressure against Rick's bladder meant he also wet himself, Emily's padding soaking it up. "Mmm, how are you liking it, Emily?"
"Oh god, no! I can taste and smell everything! It's like it's filled my mouth and I can't spit it out!" The warmth and filth was soaking into her body, invading her in a way she was unable to resist. Emily felt like there was excrement all over her heart and mind, as well as her body. Then she realized something. "Oh god, they're going to throw me away. Rick, you have to stop them, find a way to change me back."
"But I can't really talk right now! I thought you said this turned you on?"
"Rick? Please answer me, you have to help me! Why won't you say anything? This is awful!" Emily's thoughts stopped coming in words for a while, and came instead as a wave of feeling that Rick recognized was inconsolable crying. Occasionally she formed a whimper of, "please, someone help me..."
This had been the camera's final cruel act of vengeance. While the diaper Emily had become was still ready to serve its purpose, Emily would be eager to be used; but once she was used, once she was trash, she no longer had any right to feel happiness. Once the poop touched her, she was robbed of her capacity for pleasure and happiness forever; her last link to another human being was severed, and she was alone to, quite literally, rot.
Rick tried to comfort her, but quickly gave up when it became clear she was simply not going to hear him. Really it was a relief. Sure, he felt bad; Emily was clearly suffering. But he had been excited at the thought of her being used and discarded, and now he could just let that happen without anyone ever knowing. He didn't have any way to bring her back anyhow, so he may as well let himself enjoy it. The idea of a diaper whining and crying about being pooped in and thrown away was even kind of funny; what else were they for?
Rick beamed with satisfaction when he was changed and finally saw Emily dropped unceremoniously into the trash. Without direct contact, their psychic link was broken, and he found he couldn't hear her or, somewhat surprisingly, even remember the diaper's name anymore. Just as well; they were a stinky sack of poop now, and his fresh diaper didn't bum him out with all that crying.
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Emily couldn't remember her own name either, but was disappointed to find it didn't mean her mind was vanishing. She was perfectly conscious all the time, no longer having any need or ability to sleep. First she got to spend a couple of days saturated by the smell and leaking fluids of other used diapers, which somehow got even worse as the waste started to rot. Then there was the first few weeks in the landfill with the taste of even more rotting shit, rotting food, the agonizing caustic burn of household chemicals and leaking batteries. As she was buried under more and more trash there was complete darkness the crushing pressure of tons of garbage.
And, of course, she got to clearly experience every moment of the loneliness. Somehow losing her name made the loneliness even worse. It was bad enough she could remember the times with people who had mattered to her without being able to feel any warmth from the memories; but she couldn't ever remember those moments when someone had said her name and she'd felt familiar to someone.
Emily had once read that it took about 500 years for a diaper to decompose. It only took two years before she knew, with certainty, that she would never be saved.
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Child Services came and picked up Rick. The case workers were a man and the woman who arrived with a clipboard full of paperwork, which they got filled out, and left after thanking those who had looked after him Rick. They took baby Rick out to their black van, and got him fastened into a child seat. The woman case worker reached into her pocket and took out a small pendant on the end of a length of cord. It seemed to glimmer with something not quite like flames; more like distorted glints from a surface of another part of the amulet that wasn't quite in the world.
"Well?" The man was trying to watch them in the rear view mirror from the driver's seat.
"No doubt about it, Bobby, this is a transformee."
"Okay, so what do we do about him?"
"Well, we can't just let him grow up. And they don't give cleanup crews like us clearance to play around with people's memories. Protocol says we change him into something inanimate." She addressed Rick directly, "sorry, dude. I'd change you into a cat or something, but then you start spelling `Help me' with your owner's hair scrunchies or something. Then we're back to people having an idea that there are magic powers out there, and our bosses like to keep that all to themselves."
"Well, do we have any pending orders we can use him for?"
The woman checks her clipboard. "Looks like a couple."