An hour passed, a torturous crawl for Jeff, as he endured the stifling warmth and the subtle scent of impending doom emanating from his tiny human host. A series of squeaky farts punctuated by muffled giggles signalled the approaching cataclysm. Jeff braced himself, a cold dread pooling in his non-existent stomach.
Then it hit him. A tidal wave of warm, creamy terror surged into his being, engulfing his face in a soupy, foul-smelling mess. It was an unholy concoction of sugary sweetness and rank, pungent ammonia, a symphony of childhood waste played on the strings of his very being. He tasted it, a cloying, sickly sweet flavour followed by a lingering tang of ammonia that scorched his nonexistent tongue. A gag reflex, long dormant in his human form, now convulsed him in a silent scream as he tried to recoil from the onslaught, but his transformation left him immobile and utterly helpless.
His inner surface, once smooth and pristine, was now slick with a viscous film of faecal matter. He felt it seeping into every fibre of his being, coating him in a thick layer of repugnant goo. Each breath brought a fresh wave of nausea as the stench assaulted his senses, a potent cocktail of decay and childish indiscretion that threatened to overwhelm his newly diaper-formed existence.
Adding insult to injury, a stream of urine joined the party, cutting through the fetid sludge with an acidic bite. The sensation of it seeping into him, penetrating past the protective layers he was designed for, filled him with a primal terror. He wasn't just containing this waste; he was absorbing it, becoming a part of it. His very essence was being tainted by the little girl’s bodily fluids, an unholy fusion that twisted his non-existent gut in agony.
Each second felt like an eternity as he endured this indignity. He yearned for oblivion, for release from this living nightmare. The playful squeals of the child above him grated on his nerves, a mocking reminder of his helplessness. He was trapped, a prisoner in a world of stench and waste, forever bound to the whims of a giggling toddler.
This wasn't simply containment; it was an assault, a violation of his very being. He was no longer Jeff - he was a diaper, a vessel for filth, forever marked by this first harrowing experience in his new, debased existence. The horror of it all pressed down on him like a physical weight, a crushing realisation of the bleak and revolting fate that awaited him. Each subsequent change would be just as horrific, an endless cycle of disgust and degradation. Jeff the diaper was born, and with his birth came the bitter truth: this was his life now, a living hell filled with the stench of childhood waste.