A scream.

"What?" Penelope asked, pushing her coworker's head down in order to gain a better view. The mall was typically a crowded, loud place, but something had agitated the shoppers beyond normal measures of sound.

"It sounds bad," James muttered ominously. "I think we should close up."

"Can we?" Penelope asked, just in time to hear the loudspeaker over their head crackle to life.

"Attention shoppers," the voice boomed over the noise of a thousand victims of materialism, "please proceed to the nearest exit quietly and calmly. There has been a bomb threat-" And that was all Penelope could hear before the screaming erupted, twice as piercing and far more frequent than before.

"What?" James shouted over the din, before the first explosion went off.

"James!" Penelope shouted, eyes wide and arms suddenly empty. The churning throng of bodies pushed her and pulled her away, leaving her alone and stranded outside of the implied safety of the store she was employed in. There was another and another and another detonation, and Penelope was broken apart and flying and falling and hurting and trampled-

And she screamed.

Penelope had possessed a lot of time to think about the bomb, recently.

She was suspended in funny-tasting fluid, but surprisingly, had no need to breathe. Some tube she was connected to seemed to provide both food and oxygen when she needed it.

It was a convenient set up, but it left Penelope both bored and vaguely unsatisfied. Sure, it was always the perfect temperature, with cushy interior and an enjoyable floating sensation, but she had no idea what had happened back at her job. Was James hurt? Was he dead?

Was she dead? It would explain the bizarre treatment she was receiving.

She had tried to weep over his perhaps-death, only to find her body numbed and immobile. She had resorted to pressing her chubby-feeling hands on her face and weeping tears into the viscous liquid surrounding her.

Penelope wriggled.

She had finally met the boundaries of the liquid pool; they were squishy and concave, and gave way when she pushed them. Penelope tried to ignore whenever something pushed back. But Penelope had made another discovery in the strange world she inhabited. She was not alone.

Limbs flailed around liberally, arms and legs tangling and occasionally, even getting caught. It was the happiest thing she had ever known.

And yet, it was beginning to worry her. Sure, Penelope was blind in this strange new environment, but she could feel the closeness of their proximity, and the way the barriers seemed to tighten around her every day. Well, metaphoric day. She had no real way of telling time in this pudding-bubble she found herself encased in.

But Penelope's hand found her sole companion's, and they remained comforted in their shared warmth.

It was too tight!

Penelope and her companion were pushing and punching, landing hits on the wall (but mostly on each other). Penelope wanted to wail, but, of course, was unable to draw breath in the liquid pouch. So she renewed every kick with more vigor, and every kick with a little more 'oomph'. Eventually she felt something give, only to find her companion farther away than usual. Had they found a way out?

A moment passed, and then…they were gone. Penelope panicked. Was she alone? No, nononononono, she wasn't meant to be alone! Never, never never ever!

She loved them!

Squirming and swimming towards where she had last felt them, Penelope was abruptly attacked by the walls that housed her.

No, nonono-

She was squeezed all around, her body restrained and the pressure uncomfortably painful. She thought she felt something strange, something she hadn't felt in what felt like years-

And suddenly it was cold and bright, the light burning her eyes and the abrupt change in temperature searing her sensitive skin. Penelope opened her mouth wide, and, shocked by the air that rushed into her lungs, she screamed.

And yet she wasn't the only one. There was another voice just like her, screaming madly in fright. Penelope raised her voice just like theirs, overwhelmed by the noise and the light and the cold.

A hand slapped her rear, to Penelope's sudden horror. What had just happened? Was she just sexually assaulted by a giant hand? Another giant picked her up, wrapping her in a (itchy, itchy itchy!) cloth and placing her in someone's arms. Penelope stopped screaming in order to take in another gloriously deep breath when a soft-spoken voice stopped her.

The giant was purring and cooing in a language she didn't recognize, soothing her panicked terror and forcing her to give up her screaming. Penelope was too afraid to lie still, but knew she was also too exhausted to keep up her panicked shrieks.

As soon as her pouch mate's shrieks dwindled off, Penelope found herself drifting away into dreamland.

Penelope was less confused than perhaps was warranted in her situation.

Her pouch mate was a happy, bubbly baby, with a loud wail and unfocused violet eyes. Penelope was a loud baby, in an identical beige onesie and a rather antique, cloth diaper.

Groooooss.

Her pouch mate cooed again, and Penelope wasn't un-invested enough to not gurgle back.

"Here, child," the womanish-looking giant called from above, "it's time for a diaper change." It had already been a few months since her second birth, and Penelope had been spending her time wisely. Time went into focusing on distant objects, discerning gender (or at least sex), and analyzing vocabulary.

For instance, whenever her diaper needed changing, her mother would always say the same thing. Certain word patterns would pop up whenever Mother asked Father for a bottle, but the words bottle and milk would stay the same.

Her pouch mate was Karura.

Penelope thought Karura was the cutest baby in the entire world, even when the little human bean would drool on her in her sleep.

There was, however, one teensy little thing Penelope was finding hard to reconcile.

And that was when Mother slipped off her onesie and undid her diaper, and a wrong sort of genitals would be staring her in the face.

"Yashamaru, stop screaming," Mother ordered patiently every time she would change her son. "It's just a diaper."

I don't own anything related to the Naruto series, neither the situations, locations, characters, nor any other inventions belonging to the original creators of said work.