He remembered feeling cool as he started to rouse from unconsciousness. There was a mess of hair in his face and in his mouth so he raised a hand groggily to brush it away, but he noticed it was hard to raise his arm and when he did, his hand connected with his jaw with a little too much force.

Reeling at the dull pain, Hasley let out a groan and, with some effort, rolled over onto his side. He couldn't seem to recall what had happened or where he was, but whatever he was laying on felt soft and slick. Opening his bleary eyes again, the first thing he saw were solid white bars. Everything beyond them was just a blur of color.

"M-Mm..." He whined again and stretched his hand out, feeling the material of whatever he was laying on under his fingertips. It was an odd texture and vaguely, he could make out small designs of animals printed on it.

Then confusion gripped him. Where was he?

He decided to sit up, which he struggled to do, but he was eventually upright, propping himself up with his hands behind him. All of his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive and he had a pounding headache.

As his vision started to focus, he realized he was in a brightly colored room. The walls were colored in pastels and...he was in a crib. A white over-sized crib. With that realization, he gripped the material under him, finally noticing it was a mattress with a plastic cover and at the end of the crib, there was a crumbled fleece blanket and a pillow.

This was a nursery. He was in a giant nursery. The thought wasn't really processing properly. Taking a breath, Hasley tried to move to sit on his knees, but as soon as he lifted himself up, he fell back over and landed on the plush mattress with a soft 'whump'.

His muscles felt weak and he was shaking a little from the fall. Why couldn't he stand up? Letting out an annoyed sound, he once again tried to force himself up onto all fours, only for his arms and legs to tremble and give out again.

Now he knew something was wrong. He couldn't put any weight down without falling. So against his will, he laid flat on the mattress, his hair still in his face and his arms splayed out. He stayed like that for a long time, or at least it felt like that. In that time, he took in the rest of his surroundings in silence.

There was a dresser with a mirror to the right of the crib with little on it besides a white bottle of something, a similar white box, and a soft-looking brush. In the middle of the floor, there was a wide playpen; the bottom and mesh around it was a pale pink and there seemed to be some toys inside. It would have looked fine had it been a normal size.

There were white doors on the far wall and the one to the left, but they were both closed and likely locked, all things considered. There was also a changing table in the corner. On the ceiling above the playpen was a large mobile that spun slowly, colorful pictures of animals hanging from the strings. It looked like a normal nursery except everything was too big.

Exhaustion was just starting to take over when he heard something rattling. Opening his eyes fully, he saw the door directly across the room from him opening and someone stepping in. As panic took over, he scrambled up, forgetting how weak his limbs were, so he only succeeded in falling backwards and ending up on his back with a startled gasp.

"Calm down. You'll hurt yourself," a gruff voice spoke. Unfortunately, it was one that Hasley recognized. While he didn't relax, he didn't feel quite as out of his element.

"Dixon!" he snapped, finding his throat was sore from lack of use. "What have you done to me? Why am I here?" Hasley tried to sit up, finally managing to do so and see out over the edge of the crib. Dixon still stood by the door, but it was closed now. The man's dark coat and clothes seemed out of place in the bright room.

"I've given you a drug so you can't stand up. That's why you're as weak as you are. I suggest you don't try to climb out or you might get hurt." His voice was so level, it was infuriating. Hasley wrinkled his nose at the information, leaning forward and gripping the bars in his hands to support himself.

"I think I could have figured that much out on my own, asshole. Where am I? What's with all of...this?" He gestured wildly in reference to the nursery. Dixon scowled and walked over, causing Hasley to let go of the bars and put his back to the other side.

"Don't swear. You're in a nursery, can't you tell that? I brought you here to keep you safe. You already had wounds, you can't keep fighting like you were," he explained, though his voice wasn't nearly as sympathetic as his words.

"Since when do you care? You've tried to kill me before," Hasley snapped. "And...keep me safe? Th-This is...!" He didn't really know what to call it. It was all so bizarre and not at all what he would have expected for Dixon. The older man shrugged and reached in for him.

"You'll come to understand eventually. But be quiet now. I need to change you." That sent off alarms in his head and the blue-haired man began to squirm in an attempt to get away.

"Change me?! What are you talking about? Let go of me!" His voice got higher in pitch when he was actually grabbed, bringing his fists down against Dixon's shoulder and chest as he was lifted out of the crib. However, he found he wasn't dealing any damage and the other man hardly seemed effected by it.

"Hasley." Dixon growled his name and he faltered for a moment. That second was all that was needed for Dixon to right him properly in his arms, having him sit on his arm while his free hand was placed at the small of his back. Hasley felt a warm blush spreading across his face as he was carried across the room, over to the changing table.

"I'm not- You can't-" He couldn't finish his sentences; he didn't even know what to say and he was too shocked to continue fighting.

"Stay here." Dixon suddenly plopped him down on the carpet beside the changing table and left him there, going over to the dresser.

While Dixon was looking through the drawers, Hasley turned his head to see the objects under the changing table. There was a plastic container filled with...diapers. Beside it were some wipes and a bottle of powder. Seeing that, he bristled and turned onto his hands and knees.

He seemed to have gotten a little strength back into his legs so he tried to push himself to his feet, but that quickly failed as he stumbled and came crashing back onto the carpet.

At least it was soft.

Dixon turned his head to look at him, a stern frown on his face. "I told you to stay there. You're going to hurt yourself." He seemed to have found what he was looking for in the dresser so he came back over. Hasley briefly caught sight of folds of fabric in his hand before they were placed on the end of the table and Dixon reached down for him again.

As soon as he was back in the other's arms, the smaller of the two began to struggle again, pushing at his chest. "Let go of me! Dixon! This isn't funny!"

Then there was a sharp smack and he felt a mild stinging pain on his rear. That stunned him to fall still and silent, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Dixon had just-

"Be still." Without another word, he was laid on his back on the changing table, left to stare up at the ceiling. He didn't move for a minute as he heard Dixon shifting things under the table, still trying to register what had just happened. He only moved again when he felt fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt.

His hands were immediately snatched when he tried to push Dixon away this time and his arms were wrenched above his head. His shirt was pulled open, revealing his chest, then he was sat up and it was roughly pulled off over his head. Now he felt how cool the room was all over; he tried not to shiver.

"Wh..." He let out one last confused mumble before he went quiet, deciding to just let Dixon do what he wanted. It wasn't as if he could stop him in this state. He would just have to wait until he regained all of his strength.

His belt was unbuckled and dropped on the floor and his shorts followed after it, leaving him in his underwear. He was shaking now, more so from fear than the cool air of the room. When his underwear was pulled off, he jumped and frantically reached down to cover himself, but his hands were pushed away. "-!"

However, his nudity only lasted a few seconds as Dixon lifted him up just enough to put something under him, then something soft was brought between his legs and fastened around his waist. He knew what it was, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. What did Dixon expect, for him to use it?

He thought his shorts were being put back on, but he lifted his head a little and noticed another pair was put on him. They were a light blue and looked ridiculously puffy with the diaper beneath them, but they weren't tight around it. He looked to see what Dixon was unfolding and saw it was a yellow short sleeve shirt with some design on the front.

"Sit up and raise your arms," the older man commanded. This time, Hasley obeyed, sitting up with some work and putting his arms out so the shirt could be slipped over his head. It was a light material, comfortable, but he still would have rather kept his old clothes.

He sat on the edge of the changing table while Dixon moved to putting a pair of white socks on his feet. Scowling, Hasley kicked his foot away.

"I don't want to wear socks." Dixon shot him an annoyed glare, clearly tired of his antics already.

"You have to wear them. Hold still." Before he could move his foot again, the sock was slipped over it. But when he went to put the second one on, Hasley jerked his leg away again.

"I said no." There was a moment of hesitation before Dixon raised his hand and Hasley flinched instinctively.

"Do I have to spank you again?" the taller man hissed. The younger couldn't muster a reply and he dug his nails into the padded material on top of the table. When there was no response, Dixon grabbed his other foot and put the sock on it.

He was picked up after Dixon made sure all his clothes were on properly, held firmly against his chest when Hasley didn't fight anymore. He brought him to the crib and sat him back inside.

"You need to rest now. I'll be back in a few hours so you best sleep," Dixon commented, reaching for the blanket and pillow to straighten them. Hasley watched idly, but didn't respond, leaning so his back was against the bars on the other side of the crib.


Dixon cast him a curious glance, then stood straight and turned, going over to the playpen. He reached inside and plucked out a fluffy toy, something that looked like an dog, and brought it back to the crib. Hasley stared at it as it was offered to him, then glared, folding his arms to show his refusal.

The older man frowned, but sat the toy inside the crib anyway. "Suit yourself. But like I said, you should sleep." With that, he turned and headed for the door. As he reached for the handle, Hasley caught sight of the small gold key he used to unlock it.

He turned the light out before he left and shut the door behind himself, but the room wasn't nearly as dark as Hasley had expected. There was a small nightlight in the corner, casting stars on the ceiling.

The blue-haired man sat there for a while, just staring at the door in the darkness, but his fatigue from earlier was starting to come back so eventually, he slumped over, then moved to lay on his back.

With one last thought to the situation he was in, he pulled the blanket over his bare legs and succumbed to exhaustion.