Leah stares at the bars around her. She's in a crib! In a darkened room! What is going on?
A harsh cramp suddenly ripples through her. She grunts as incredibly loose poop is ejected into her diaper. There are a few farts that follow, which are accompanied by liquidy poop. Well. She officially has diarrhea thanks to Rita. The last time she had the runs proper, she had to spend the whole day on the toilet. Now, she's wearing her toilet.
The door to the room she's in opens. The light turns on, revealing that Leah is in a nursery. Leah gets up. And immediately bends into a squat, more crippling cramps forcing her to push. The poop that comes out is still very mushy, but at least it's not liquid.
"Poor baby Hailey," Mrs. Montague says, coming over to check on her. Baby? Didn't Rita agree to claim Leah was a toddler? Leah thinks back to the conversation she fell asleep during. Now that she thinks about it, she vaguely remembers Rita saying Leah will turn two next month.
Great. Rita has downgraded her from toddler teen to baby teen. Leah grunts as she continues to fill her diaper. Baby probably is a better fit right now. Toddlers tend to have more control than she does.
"All done?" Mrs. Montague asks when Leah finally straightens. What the hell, she might as well use her diaper for number one, too. Leah pees, then nods. "All right, baby girl, time to get you changed."
Mrs. Montague is very maternal and caring. Leah can't help but relax as she's brought to the changing station.
"Your auntie said you didn't sleep well, so I let you nap," Mrs. Montague says. "I see why. You're having an extra poopy day!"
That's one way to describe it. Leah sighs in resigned acceptance as her filthy diaper is removed, she's wiped down, and a fresh diaper is taped on. She sits up and reaches for the simple yellow toddler sundress Rita dressed her in that morning. Mrs. Montague shakes her head and pulls it away.
"Sorry, sweetheart. You leaked on your pretty dress."
That's not surprising, with how much Leah just pooped. And then she peed on top of that. She's still unhappy, though. Mrs. Montague pokes her nose playfully.
"Don't worry! I'll get your dress cleaned while you're here. And in the meantime..."