DBZ Moms Vs. The Diaper Machine Comic Page 11 (Pixiv Fanbox)

Bulma's eyes widened in shock as her right hand barely brushed against the surface of the conveyor belt before she felt her entire body being pulled into the air. In only a handful of seconds she felt more of the robotic hands descend upon her, grabbing her wrists and readjusting her body until she found herself sat in the middle of one of the metallic arms that had wrapped around itself like a coil of garden hose. Bulma shifted her hips and tried to sit up, but the hand wrapped around her ankles held them higher than her body with her knees bent, throwing off her center of gravity. The way her diapered bottom sat in the center of the coiled up metallic tendril, coupled with how the glove at the end of the steel limb held her padded posterior in place, made it virtually impossible for her to sit up.

Unexpectedly, Bulma felt the firm grip of the gloved hands leave her ankles, giving her the faintest feeling of hope before yet another one of the dreaded hands appeared in front of her. Bulma looked upon the baby bottle in shock, her balled up her fists trembling as the sudden realization that the hand holding the bottle in front of her face was about to feed her as if she was an actual infant.

“INITIATING: FEEDING PROTOCOL”

Her mind moved at a mile a minute, knowing that the machine was about to bottle feed her and yet she couldn't help but wonder how the machine was going to do that since her mouth was basically plugged by the pacifier. For the briefest of moments, the diapered mother assumed that her invention would be forced to remove the pacifier and, when it did that, she would be able to shout. at the top of her lungs, the phrase that would shut down the machine and end this horrible nightmare. However, such hope died instantly the moment one of the gloved hands appeared in front of her mouth and began to twist the plastic top of her pacifier.

Bulma watched in shock as the fingers of the gloved hand worked the front of the pacifier in a counterclockwise motion, loosening it, until a slight pop sound filled the air. There was a slight rush of cold air filling her mouth as Bulma felt the spit covered bulb of the pacifier being pulled from out of her once gagged mouth leaving her absolutely dumbfounded by this unexpected turn of events. Even with her mouth momentarily freed, Bulma could only think to vocalize her bewilderment with a simple “huh?!” as the front of the pacifier vanished from her sight only to be replaced with the sight of the other hand bringing the huge baby bottle towards her face.

Before the thought to shutdown the machine could materialize in Bulma’s mind, the gloved hand wielding the baby bottle shoved the tip of the enormous bottle into the housing of Bulma’s pacifier, attaching it into the plastic structure of the binky with a faint click. Bulma could feel the new silicon bulb filling her mouth and tried desperately to push the nipple of the baby bottle out of her mouth, but it was already too late; the baby bottle had joined together with the pacifier!

“M-mmph!” Bulma shouted into the baby bottle, closing her eyes in anger as she did her best to use her tongue to block the flow of formula from flowing through the slit in the nipple.

Sadly, for Bulma, Trunks had taken control of the hands and made sure to use the controls at his disposal to keep a steady pressure on the midsection of the bottle, squeezing it as he brought the bottle upwards until Bulma's muffled protests turned into frantic whimpers. It was obvious that his mom's mouth had started to fill with the thick, chalky baby formula that she, herself, had designed to help give an actual infant all of the vitamins and minerals they needed to grow up to be big and strong.

The blue haired inventor’s muffled whimpers quickly became gurgles as her throat swallowed the baby formula. An utterly bland and thick residue coated her throat and the sides of her mouth, forcing her to taste the formula even after she had swallowed it! Bulma wanted to spit the remaining traces of the artificial milk out; it was easily one of the worst things she had ever had the misfortune of drinking since the last thing on her mind, then and now, was to make a formula that actually tastes good, but the way the bottle was sealed into the pacifier ensured that she wouldn't be spitting anything up.

She thrashed against the metallic tendril, trying to wriggle her way loose, as her mouth filled with another round of formula, but the glove covered hand that held her firm made sure she couldn't squirm out of its hold. As if to add insult to injury, the hand cradling her bottom started patting her diapered butt as if it was trying to sooth her. With no other option available to her, Bulma reluctantly swallowed the formula again and, this time, she could actually hear the sound of the formula going down her throat like she was a young woman gulping down a full can of Hetap with Yamcha and the guys in one sip.