Story and Art Forum

Only after having Cauda Equina syndrome did I start waking up to having messed at night. Working with Colorectal and my PCP, we’ve been able to figure out why I was having IBS-D symptoms, Diabetic Dumping syndrome. Now it’s happening because of my rectum being paralyzed. I’ve elected to have an up and coming colostomy because of it. 

I hope it goes well for you.  I had Lipotripsy years ago for a huge Kidney stone.  Rather than a laser, I was bombarded with shock waves to bust the stone and crumble it so it would pass.  Instead, it shattered like glass with shards stuck in my kidney and uriter.  I was in such pain I went to the ER.  Following day I went back to the urologist with a 102 temperature and he told me to check into the hospital.  Very nonchalant.  At the hospital they couldn't give me any pain medication without the approval from the urologist, who was busy with patients.  Finally they reached him and I got pain meds.  The next morning he strolled into my hospital room about 7am and said he'd check back later around 4pm.  I was pissed!  10 minutes later he was back saying they were rushing me into surgery because the midnight blood test showed my kidney was failing. That's when they discovered the stone had shattered and not crumbled like he said it would.  They had to go up through my bladder and uriter to remove every individual shard of stone that was stuck.  My uriter was so torn up I had to have a stent in for 5 weeks so it would heal.  When the urologist said it had shattered, I said, "Wow!  That must be unusual".  He said, "No, it happens all the time".  Had I been strong enough at the time I would have choked the shit out of him!  Glad you are having it lasered instead! lithotripsy for kidney stones - Google Search

Part 4 Jane took a deep breath, and waited for her heart to stop thudding inside her ears. Fear? Hardly. Anger? Meh, that was a touch extreme. Annoyed as all bloody hell and quite miffed about it thank you very much? Yeah, that was a fair cop. Chromatics and rich folk, (which really was just a circle inside of a slightly bigger circle), grew up slower than regular folk on account of them not having to struggle as much. Temper, patience, and grace under pressure weren’t much different than any other group of muscles or skills: You had to exercise them to make them strong enough to be of any use.  The mage folk didn’t know how to struggle so whenever they found a problem they couldn’t bribe or wiggle their fingers around they broke down like toddlers and threw tantrums at scale with their considerable power and status until they got their way or someone dangled something shiny in front of them as a distraction. The only difference between Miss Dhalia and the rest of her societal kin was that she was forced to be honest about it part of the time. Behind the bathroom door, the tub faucet turned on and Jane opened her eyes, not even realizing that she’d closed them. Miss Dhalia would stay in there for as long as she could, no doubt. Good. Jane sent a little prayer up that the hot water would last a good while. She trotted down the hall and up to Maggie, who was looking like she’d seen her own grandmum come back from the dead (which considering Miss Dhalia’s predilection for brain scrambling was a distinct possibility). The poor thing was sitting down sniffling to herself and trying her best not to bawl her eyes out. All that and she could still look Jane straight in the eye.  “Are ye alright, dear?” Jane said, sounding very much like her own mum. The giraffe nodded softly, keeping most of her neck straight. “I think so. I’m so sorry, Jane. I didn’t…I didn’t know.” Jane reached into her skirt pocket and handed the other woman a hanky. “Let’s start off with what ye do know. Do ye know where ye are? Do ye remember yer name? Do ye remember my name?” The new girl accepted the rag and blew her nose in it.  “Rubliss Household. My name’s Maggie. Your my friend Jane.” ‘Friend’ might be stretching the term after today.  Jane smiled back at Maggie and hummed to herself, just like her mum did. “Good. Ye haven’t lost yer marbles.”  If Maggie had grown up with Jane’s mum she wouldn’t look so happy to see that expression on Jane’s face. Time to teach. “WAS IT BECAUSE YE ALREADY LOST ‘EM?!” The giraffe stiffened and clumsily picked her gangly frame up off the floor, pressing her back to the wall like she was a cornered mouse.  “I’m sorry, Jane! I didn’t mean to…I didn’t…I didn’t know!”  “DO YE THINK EVERYBODY’D BE USING TERMS LIKE ‘SPECIAL CONDITION’ IF SHE WAS JUST IN A WHEELCHAIR ER SOMETHIN’? DID YE  REALLY THINK THERE’D BE ALL THIS SECRECY ABOUT EVERYTHING  IF IT WAS SOMETHIN’ AS FECKIN’ SIMPLE AS HER LEGS NOT WORKIN’ RIGHT?” “I-I-I didn’t know,” Maggie stammered near the point of blubbering. “I just thought Rosey had toddled away from-” “AN’ THAT’S ANOTHER THING!” Jane pounced. “YE SAW WHAT YE THOUGHT WAS A LOST BABE AN’ INSTEAD OF TAKIN’ HER DIRECTLY TO HER MOTHER OR TRYIN’ TO FIND MISS AMELIE -WHO BY THE WAY I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN INTRODUCED TO-YOU DECIDE TO FILL IN FOR THE ROLE?” “I just thought that the little one had gotten away-” “DO YOU REALLY THINK A THREE YEAR OLD KITTEN COULD GET AWAY FROM A TWO-HUNDRED AN’ FIFTY SOMETHIN’ POUND SAINT BERNARD?! DO YE REALLY THINK YE KNOW BETTER WHEN YE JUST GOT HERE?!” “No…” Poor Maggie squeaked out a half-hearted rebuttal.  “I just thought maybe a mistake had been made.” “Oh a mistake’s been made,” Jane lowered her volume but not her intensity. “But it’s you who made it! An’ another thing! Did ye not hear her screamin’ up at ye that she wasn’t Rosey? Is yer head that far up in the clouds that sounds don’t reach ye?!” “I-I-I-I-I’m sorreeeeee!” Maggie broke down crying. Jane took a breath and stopped herself from escalating the situation any further. If words were fists she’d been throwing nothing but haymakers and Maggie couldn’t even react in time to put her dukes up properly. Poor woman wasn’t even fighting back. All that comparing clients to children throwing tantrums and Jane wasn’t doing a much better job herself. She was a wee bit of a hypocrite, she’d admit, but would not be a full one. “Alright, alright, Maggie m’dear. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Ye didn’t know, an’ no one who did thought to clue you in.”  She didn’t need a knock out to win this fight. She was far ahead on points and the judges would give her the victory. “I’m steamed at ye because I vouched for ye,” Jane admitted. “At least half of my job is about using good judgement. You gettin’ this kind of attention so early on doesn’t make my judgement look so good, y’know?” Maggie wiped her nose yet again and blinked the last of her blubbering tears away. “I know. I know. I’m sorry.” “It’s alright,” Jane promised and hoped it would be true. “Jest keep yer head down an’ hope Little Miss Rosey has a growth spurt soon.” “Should I…?” Maggie hesitated. “Should I be keepin’ this to myself?”    Oh that would be just lovely. But… “Yes an’ no,” Jane admitted. “We should report to Mister Edgar fer purposes of safety an’ contractual liability. But I think it’d be wise to neglect that you saw Miss Dhalia’s true form, or that ye even know she has a true form.” “Does Mister Edgar not know?”  Hells if Jane knew. As the household’s chief of staff, Edgar was technically their boss. But Jane had been discretely assigned this task directly from the Lady Rubliss herself. “Let me put it to ye this way, Maggie m’dear. If Mister Edgar knew that ye knew Miss Dhalia’s secret, do ye think that would make him more likely to assign ye duties involvin’ her or less?” Something like primal panic flashed in the giraffe’s eyes. She looked like she’d just thrown up a little in her mouth and Jane saw her swallow travel all the way down her considerable throat. “I think I see yer point.” “Good,” Jane said and took Maggie by the hand. “So let’s you an’ me go talk to Mister Edgar, but let’s also get our stories straight as to what was seen an’ what happened, yeah?” The shudder in her throat traveled all the way down to Maggie’s feet. “I think so,” she said and shakily stepped off hand in hand with Jane down the hallway.  Was Jane going to all this effort to preserve her own credibility and position as Miss Dhalia’s Personal Assistant or to help Maggie keep her wits about her so she didn’t?  The shot of whiskey she usually enjoyed before bed wouldn’t have any answers for her that night and was too far into the future for Jane to spend much time worrying about. “Ye said judgement was fifty percent of yer job,” Maggie sniffled regaining some of her composure. “What’s the other half?” “Same half as everybody else,” Jane told her. “Keepin’ my head down and my mouth shut.” “Magic folk are crazy…”  “Ye have no idea.”  ************************************************************************************** It was a full hour later when Miss Dhalia finally got herself out of the tub and dried herself off. Jane had her redressed and re-diapered wordlessly and within a few minutes- just like Miss Dhalia liked it.- so that some semblance of routine and normalcy might return their little slice of life. Edgar was informed enough and Maggie had kept things vague enough that any scandal would die in the cradle (poor choice phrasing) but Maggie would still get a slight hazard bonus as a bribe.  That’s where it would have ended, too, if Jane had had anything to say about it. Shame that it takes two to tango and the say of things wasn’t hers alone. “So,” Miss Dhalia pouted once she’d had time to smooth out her new skirt over herself. “I have a condition, do I? Is that what you call it?” Just like she’d been throwing verbal haymakers at Maggie before, Miss Dhalia was coming out of the corner all-a-clawing before the bell even rang. Jane supposed she should have seen this coming. DING-DING-DING she guessed. “I’m terribly sorry that ye went through what ye did, Miss Dhalia,” Jane tried. “I know that was terribly unpleasant, but discretion is one of my primary duties.” Sometimes it was best to just keep her guard up and let her chief responsibility wear herself out first. “I can promise ye it won’t be happenin’ again, and one very minor slip-up in three years is quite the record I can assure you that.  Don’t worry, Miss Dhalia. Yer secret’s still safe.” “Three…years…” Miss Dhalia said like she’d just now realized how long she’d been stuck like this. She looked like she’d just sucker punched herself.  Then her squeaky little voice turned harder. “But it’s not really my secret, is it? It’s yours. You’re ashamed of me.” Actually it was Miss Dhalia who was ashamed of Miss Dhalia, along with several others, but that wouldn’t have been the soundest response to the situation. In any fight, being aware of your own weight class and how much reach you had was vital. Same went for stamina. “I know that you value your privacy, and you don’t like bein’ seen as vulnerable around most,” Jane said. She might have reminded Miss Dhalia that fancy pants Chromatics weren’t the only ones who could do fancy turns of phrase, and that  ‘has a condition’ sounded a lot better than ‘cursed down to the size of a toddler with a milk addiction an’ a bladder to match’. That wouldn’t have gone well, though. It wouldn’t have gone well at all. Sometimes discretion meant pulling her punches. “It’s a shame but it couldn’t be avoided. ‘The best laid plans o’ mice an’ men’ an’ all that. Don’t worry, though, I’ve handled it an’ it won’t be happenin’ again.” Miss Dhalia wasn’t swallowing it this time. “You’re not my maid,” she spat. Jane could see the little cat’s claws wiggling and her upper lip curling in waves like she was muttering to herself. Likely she was imagining doing all sort of unpleasant things to Jane’s mind.  Jane didn’t cower and played it coy. “Aye,” she said. “‘Maid’ refers to a general level of service given to a specific residence.” Both snakes and cats hissed and rattled and made themselves look bigger and scarier when they weren’t ready for a fight. “I tend to think of myself as yer executive personal assistant or some such other fancypants title.”  That little guarded probe didn’t land.  “You’re my handler,” Miss Dhalia snarled up at Jane. “I’m the embarrassment that you have to cover up! Manage for the sake of a paycheck! Keep me secret and cover up from the other maids so that the embarrassing family secret doesn’t come out.” Playing defense wasn’t working like it usually did. Jane decided to change up her rhythm. She put her hooves on her hips and tilted her head to the side, looking so much like her mum that it might have scared her. She was an adult explaining something self-evident to a frustrating stubborn child that she wasn’t allowed to spank.  “Miss Dhalia, it’s been three years and yer still acting like it’s only been a couple a’ weeks.” Jab. “Ye’ve had nothin’ installed in yer quarters fer accessibility; no stairs or steps or ladders so I have to be the one that fetches everythin’ fer ye.” Jab-jab! “All yer clothes are meant for toddlers because ye can’t be bothered to humble yerself enough to get something tailored for an adult your size or even ask me to do it!” Jab, jab, uppercut!  “All ye do is wiggle yer fingers around and pretend everything is the same, then wait fer me to come an’ pick up the pieces!” Left hook! The words landed. They hit. But Miss Dhalia would not back down. Some people just didn’t have an ounce of quit in them. “I thought we were friends, traitor!” Traitor? After everything she’d done for that girl? All the tip-toeing around on eggshells while keeping calm about it and nary a complaint in return for nary compliment or concern? That’s it! Time to knock the bratty lil’ bairn straight on her arse!    “Friend?” Jane repeated. “Ye think we’re friends?” That question alone seemed to have confuddled Miss Dhalia.  The poor daft kitty cat had no idea what friendship was. Most hoidy toidy Chromatics didn’t. Relationships were just another kind of spell to them, or so most people who worked for them came to conclude. “We’re not?” Jane took her arms off her hips and folded them over her chest. “If we’re friends, tell me one thing about me that doesn’t have to do with my job.” The cat’s eyes flicked this way and that, like she was trying to remember a spell but couldn’t or whatever mages did when they panicked. “You like Arcadian Girl Dolls?”   “Not since I was in primary school, I haven’t.”  “You like to play…sports?” “Sports?” Jane half-taunted her charge. “Just sports?” This was almost delicious. Know-it-alls hated not knowing things. “Miss Dhalia? Would ye be so kind as to remind me of what my own last name is?” “Um…er….uh…” Miss Dhalia hemmed. “It’s…it’s…Doe?” Jane’s stomach dropped in disappointment. She was certain the adult kitten would get it wrong, but she didn’t think she’d get it this wrong. She knew she’d be taking one on the chin just so she could fire a solid one back but this level of ignorance felt like a complete low blow.   “Miss Dhalia? Do ye honestly think my name is ‘Jane Doe’.” Her charge’s violet fur poorly concealed the roseyness of her blush. “Kind of?” Spare the rod, spoil the bart. In for a penny, time for a pounding. Time to put her on her arse! “I’ve been with ye constantly fer over three years now and ye still can’t be bothered to learn my name? I cook fer ye, I clean fer ye, I do yer laundry, an’ I literally wipe yer ass. Do ye ever wonder why I still call ye ‘Miss Dhalia’? Why I’m still so formal?” She didn’t give Dhalia a chance to reply. Real fights didn’t take turns. “It’s to remind me that yer not the sweet little girl I grew up with! I liked that girl!” Jane spun around on her back hoof  and stomped out of Miss Dhalia’s bizarrely normal bedroom. A tantrum was a tantrum, but sometimes they were justified, and Jane was at her limit. She grabbed the knob and shouted. “AND I’M NOT A TRAITOR OR YER HANDLER! THE WORD YER LOOKIN’ FOR IS ‘NANNY’!” Then she slammed the door shut and stormed away. “I’M GOIN’ ON BREAK!”  ****************************************************************************************************** Dhalia did not cry. If she were outside the house grounds where she was permitted to use her spells she’d be bawling her eyes out in the comforting cover of a full on obfuscatia spell.  Jane had absolutely gutted her. For all her common lack of refinements the deer woman knew how to control a conversation. She seemed a pawn but she moved across the board strategically as she pleased like a queen never willing to sacrifice herself. And so the reverse also felt true for Dhalia. KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK Dhalia’s fur frizzed up and she hissed. “Fuck off, Jane! I’m not talking to you right now!” In truth she was desperate to forgive and to be forgiven but she couldn’t will herself the humility needed to accomplish that task. It was time to re-establish boundaries and exactly who was in charge of whom in this business transaction.  “Come back when it’s time for dinner!” The voice was on the other side of the door was not Jane’s. Not Jane’s at all. “Dhalia. It’s Mother.” MOTHER?! Dhalia’s adrenaline spiked and her threatening tears evaporated out of anxiety. Mesmurr Rubliss might have been the forward face of the family’s businesses and political interests but within the Rubliss family and household itself, Mother Aurelia Rubliss reigned supreme.  Dhalia flung open the door.  “Mother!” she put on a pleased and eager tone from pure muscle memory. “What an unexpected pleasure!” She tried her best to sound giddy and whimsical; to give the impression that her mother had just arrived fashionably late to an amusing party that she was definitely invited to.   To Dhalia’s own ears it sounded more like a small child caught in the midst doing something naughty and trying to act casually.  Potency of blood had started to replace purity of breed in matters of prestige so it was no scandal these days for cats like Dhalia to be of such high social standing. If a financially powerful Maine Coon family and a particularly gifted Siamese family were bound together in holy political matrimony, who was going to dare stop them to complain?      One would think that a Siamese cat would have blue eyes, but the only thing blue about Aurelia was her deep blue fur. Her eyes were instead as glittering red as the rubies encrusted into her golden necklace. Chroma could do strange things to genetics, especially along bloodlines where one was cascaded in the womb.  Dhalia tended to take after her father’s side of the family, but she had still been gifted with her mother’s beautiful eyes. “Dhalia.” The sparkling smile in Mother’s eyes didn’t make it down to her jawline. “Thank you for opening your door to me. You’re most gracious.” The little purple cat stepped back and ushered her mother in. Every gently padding footstep further into her room sounded to Dhalia like pieces being set up on a chessboard.  “I do apologize for the coarse language; please forgive my faux pas.” “It’s already forgiven.” Dhalia’s tail twitched and her diaper crinkled. Her faux pas was forgiven. Not re-classified as a misstep. She had grievously erred and the error was recognized and acknowledged. Dhalia hated it when she couldn’t control her tail. This was not off to a good start. Mother sniffed the air and raised an eyebrow. “Do you smell that?” White king’s pawn to E4. Dhalia’s already racing heart accelerated to humming bird levels. She’d just been changed and all of the trash receptacles were in other rooms. Had she already had an accident and somehow didn’t notice? There was no way for her to discreetly check herself. Was she actually becoming incontinent? “Smell what?”  Black king’s pawn to E5. “Nevermind,” Mother waved off her own question. “You know why I’m here.”  She sat upon Dhalia’s bed as if it were her own. “Such pleasantries and smalltalk aren’t needed for family.” No. Family was more important. Family was everything. Rivals and upstarts might lurk and scheme outside the Rubliss household and needed to be guarded and schemed against in turn using intrigue, empty accolades, and meaningless chatter, but Family did not play such games with one another. (Or they mustn’t appear to, anyway.) White king’s knight to F3. “Agreed. Pretense is beneath us. All of us.” Referring to the family as a whole was inclusive without it being directly accusatory. The point of the game sometimes was not to seem like one was playing. Black queen’s knight to C6. Mother did not let up. “It’s beneath some more than others.” White queen’s knight to C3 “Yes, but we needn’t discuss the children.” Black king’s knight to F6 Battle lines were drawn and the knights were out on the field with mirrored board states. Like mother, like daughter. Mother almost smiled. “Very good. Let’s discuss greater matters of import. Do you think we should fire Molly? The new maid hire? Giraffe woman?” White rook’s pawn to A3. This was a test. A probe to test her judgement. With Aurellia Rubliss it often was. Even misnaming the idiot maid was test of sorts for attachment. It was how she nurtured and prodded her children to greatness. It was how she showed her love and after Dhalia modeled her entire teaching style after. If the idiot maid was fired, chances increased that Dhalia’s dirty little curse would spill out into polite society. That Mother knew meant that the giraffe had reported the incident to Edmund or Edwin or whatever this decade’s chief of staff was called.  Dhalia chose her next words as carefully as if she were weaving together Chroma.  “I feel that would be an ill-advised route to take at this juncture. An overreaction. For multiple reasons.” Black queen’s pawn to D5. “She saw you in your unmentionables.” Mother stated bluntly. “Edgar told me as such. Thank goodness he’s discreet enough to not know what that actually means.”  She was both cruel and kind enough not to call Dhalia’s undergarments what they actually were. White king’s pawn to D5. Pawn takes pawn. “Sometimes vulnerability is a power play.” Dhalia tactfully replied. “As is mercy. We’re powerful enough to do both.” Black king’s knight to D5. Knight takes pawn. Aurelia actually laughed lightly, but it was not an especially happy sound. “Dear daughter, I wouldn’t call near scrambling an Achromatic’s senses like you like to do ‘mercy’.” Her smile hid itself in her eyes again. “And do you mean to say that you willingly compromised yourself in front of the help?” A dirty question. ‘Willingly’ was attempting to hide the impact of ‘compromised yourself’.  White king’s bishop to E2. Dhalia should have seen that coming. Mother certainly did. “Not at all, Mother. I’m saying that mistakes were made but they can be forgotten. Give the girl a slight bonus for her inconvenience and keep her out of my quarters. Then everything will be forgotten by the next paycheck on both ends.” She hastily added,  “As far as she’s concerned.” Black king’s pawn to E4.  “You mean you lost your temper…” Mother paused, letting an implied ‘again’ slip into the silence, “...and threatened her.”  There was no question here according to Aurelia. White queen’s knight to E4. Knight takes pawn. Dhalia stammered but recovered. “I-I-I…I treated it as a teachable moment. I taught her a lesson about the value of discretion and following instructions to the letter. She’ll get over it and not try to be so…familiar in carrying out her duties in the future. Just like you did when I was growing up.”  Black king’s knight to F4.   Mother was always hard to read, but she did seem pleased. She hummed and purred to herself softly before replying. “I suspect you may be disassembling, Dhalia, if only to yourself, but I see your point. I’ll indulge you.” In translation, this probably meant that Aurelia was going to take this course of action regardless; she just wanted to make sure Dhalia had wisely come to a similar conclusion.  “Let’s move on to June.” Dhalia blinked. The semester wasn’t even half over. “What’s happening in June?” “Your, ahem, ‘assistant’? Deer woman?” Mother was kind and cruel enough to not refer to Jane as her ‘nanny’ but not so much that Dhalia didn’t know she was thinking it.  “If not the witness to the embarrassment, then the person whose job it is to prevent embarrassment should be replaced I would think. White castles kingside. White king to G1. White king’s rook to F1. This wasn’t about the giraffe. This was never about the giraffe.  And the embarrassment might not have been the maid almost changing her diaper. It might have been the hand print that was briefly left on Dhalia’s cheek just before she took a bath. Dhalia’s tail flicked again and that gruesome crinkle from her backside taunted her. “Jane? It was a single open handed slap to get my attention. Hardly a fireable offense. Barely a misstep compared to value offered and services rendered.” Black king’s knight to E2.  White king is in check. She was never going to win this argument unless Mother allowed it. This was more about impressing her and losing gracefully when the inevitable came. “I can understand a certain level of familiarity with the help, dear daughter,” Aurelia spoke, “and if only family had witnessed I would agree. But she laid her hands upon you without invitation from you or permission from me. There must be consequences.”  Despite what Dhalia’s job and social circles might imply, there were many more Achromatics than Chromatics in the world and if the latter ever figured that out the latter would be doomed.  Tooth, claw, fang, hoof, at fist in great enough numbers, force, and persistence could topple almost any amount of magic; not to mention weapons. Much in the way that venom and poison might kill you but a splattered brain definitely would, it was wisest not to let the common folk ponder how vulnerable their betters truly were. White queen to E2. Queen takes knight. Dhalia tried for a gotcha question of her own. “Do you really think our familial perception is so weak that a single slap will cause waves and ripples among the staff?” Black queen’s bishop to G4. “Not ours…” Aurelia sniffed. “Are you sure you don’t smell something? Smell’s like your sister’s room.”  Dhalia needn’t have asked which one. White queen’s knight to F6. Checkmate. Mother was right of course. Technically Jane had crossed a line. Molly or whatever her name was couldn’t rightly be trusted to keep her tongue from flapping about everything. Jane disappearing into the unemployment line would definitely send the correct message of ‘Keep your eyes looking down, your mouth closed, and your hands off’.  And Mother actually could blackball Jane, not just threaten her with it like Dhalia had to the giraffe.  It was tempting, all things considering. “Please don’t fire Jane for my lack of vigilance.” Dhalia found herself pleading. “It’s my fault for not being vigilant. I wrongly assumed I was free to walk around unescorted and Jane reacted on instinct to stop me from overstepping more than I already had.” It was a most dignified groveling. Dhalia kept her head up the entire time.  She continued, no longer playing a game but trying to save Jane’s position. “If we allow the staff to become too afraid to cross us, that fear may disincentivize them from performing their duties beyond exactly what is required. They’d be little more than gargoyles at that point. Jane was protecting me and the other servant so that no one else needed to be disciplined.” “Hmmm…” Mother’s tail flicked behind her. “You seem to have taken a fondness to this assistant of yours.” “I’ve almost got her trained just the way I want her!” Dhalia mewled. “It would be like if Eddie disappeared and having to start all over again from scratch.” “Edgar,” Mother corrected her. “But I see your point.”   “If you have to punish someone, Mother, I take the weight of responsibility. Punish me.” Mother rose up from Dhalia’s bed and glided back toward the bedroom door. “I already have. Thank you for your time, Dhalia. You may keep your…’Jane’ was it?” Dhalia held her tongue but nodded. “We will retain your ‘assistant’ Jane’s services for the foreseeable future. Have a good day.” Mother left with the bedroom door still open and did not deign to close it. Nor did Dhalia. She simply looked up to the ceiling and saw the imaginary chessboard she’d been keeping track of the whole time.   When she looked at the pieces in her mind’s eye, she saw herself not as a queen, but as one of the tiny disposable pieces on the front line. She could only move straight ahead on a path that had been laid out for her. She could only capture pieces and score victories under the most precise of circumstances and then carry on, hoping against hope that she would make it to the other end of the board and become a Queen. Until such a time occurred, Dhalia was stuck waiting, trying not to be someone else’s sacrifice play. Some day, she would be able to cross the board of life. But for now, she could only wait for her shot at true glory. Damn, but she hated waiting! ********************************************************************************************* Dear Diary, I know I’ve been saying this a lot lately, but you won’t believe what happened at school today.  First off, remember Dolly? As you know I was kind of worried this weekend that we’d never get to hang out during school. Dolly’s incredibly smart so she doesn’t need a tutor and most kids at school don’t really want to be seen with me once they’ve gotten to know me. But then wouldn’t you know it? Dolly showed up at lunch and talked to me!  Me, Diary! Like it was nothing! Hold on. Maybe I should start over and skip ahead… ********************************************************************************************* “And now she won’t even talk to me.” Dhalia finished her recounting of that miserable weekend. Her chimerical construct sighed while Dhalia herself took another sip from her milk carton. She would have liked to have conjured a similar carton for her disguise to hold, but the busy cafeteria was in full swing and there were too many variables to account for and hold a heartfelt bitch session with her new mentee at the same time. “She’s the one that slapped me but I’m the massive bitch for some reason.” Dhalia had been feeling restless that Monday morning. Jane had given her the cold shoulder; upholding the exact letter of her employment contract and not a syllable, thought, or motion more. As Miss Rubliss she’d lectured and taught her lessons well enough, albeit with an underlying jittery and aggressive energy. She just couldn’t shake her all consuming indignation.  When her lunch break came around she found the quiet of her classroom suddenly quite distasteful, so she decided to change to Dolly and have a little chat with two horrendously floppy ears. If she was going to force herself to relive the weekend again, she might as well have a voice that wasn’t hers to talk back to her between sips. Conveniently- if predictably- Zinny sat alone and along the fringes of polite cafeteria society so it was easy to slip in unnoticed and get the drop on the girl. It would be just as easy to slip out. Were faculty members encouraged to sit with students during lunch? There was nothing strictly forbidden, but there wasn’t a soul who would give up their precious lunch break to spend even more time with pubescent idiots. She wasn’t technically breaking any rules, but that ‘technically’ made her milk taste richer than chocolate.  She didn’t care for how her actual feet were left dangling, but that would have happened for most any seat in this building. “Okay um…sorry…can I just repeat what you said back to me? I’m not sure…I mean I think I…I just want to make sure I understand everything. Is that okay?” Both Dhalia and her Dolly construct slowly blinked, signalling ease. “That would be lovely, yes.” “So you’re mad at your tutor-?” “Etiquette tutor,” Dhalia clarified the lie. She’d pretend to be unpolished in politeness and politics, not in academics.  Zinny seemed to understand. “Riiiight! I’ve had one of those. Having one is like a prerequisite for cotillion, right?” “That’s not important,” Dhalia nipped that thought off in the bud. “It’s not?” “No it’s not. What’s important,” Dhalia repeated herself, “is what happened with the maid.” “Right,” Zinny nodded and chewed thoughtfully on a strawberry. “Umm….?”   Dolly’s eyes rolled to mirror Dhalia’s exasperation. She couldn’t tell if the bat was scared to ask for clarification or just dense. “The giraffe maid?” “Right!” She bit into a piece of mango. “The one who thought you were your little sister?” Finally! Now they were getting somewhere! “Exactly!  I’d spilt some orange juice on my clothes and I’d just been on my way to clean up, when this giraffe started talking to me like I was a child?” “Why did she think you were your little sister?” It took an incredible amount of restraint to say (instead of scream), “How should I know? Maybe she was a near sighted giraffe and we all look like toddlers from way up there?”  She took another sip of milk to quench her own temper. “So what happened?” Zinny asked. “What happened wasn’t important.” “It wasn’t?”  “I don’t want to talk about those specifics.”  Dolly’s teeth grit and her fur frizzed. “Suffice it to say, it wasn’t age appropriate.” Her nose wrinkled. “And when I fought back to defend myself…” Dhalia had to be careful with her feelings lest an imagined slap imprint manifest on Dolly’s face. Zinny quietly connected the dots. “Your tutor slapped you and not the giraffe. Even though the giraffe was the one in the wrong.” “She’s not just my tutor,” Dhalia quietly moaned. “She’s my handler. She’s just been pretending to teach me in an effort to contain me. To control me.” “Ooooh,” Zinnia popped in a bit of cantaloupe. “Kind of like how some Nanny’s act as teachers, but their main job is really babysitting?” A muted growl rumbled up in Dhalia’s throat. It was taking a great deal of self-control for her not to show the bat child exactly how she’d intended to defend herself. “My point is she was sort of like a big sister to me, and I feel betrayed. I thought we really had something.” She sniffled. “Turns out I’m just another job.” A single tear fell from Dhalia’s left eye and her Dolly-construct mirrored the same. It felt so good to have someone there to feel sorry for her! Was her retelling of events strictly factual? In spirit it was. That was what mattered most. Out of nowhere, Zinny said “I’m so sorry that happened to you! Do you have any older siblings or are you the oldest?”  Shit! Dhalia couldn’t remember if she’d given Dolly’s family a particular backstory. “I’m the oldest,” she grumbled. Fewer divergent details to keep track of that way. “But it doesn’t always feel that way.” “Yeah, I get that.” Zinny tried to sympathize. “Sometimes I feel like my parents have kind of given up on me and are putting all their energy into my sister Luna. She’s sev-” “Sorry to keep interrupting,” Dhalia brazenly lied. “I just haven’t been able to get it all out of my head.” She took another sip of milk while her construct pretended to be woozy. “I think I might be traumatized!” The bat girl glanced down at Dolly’s non-wrist. “Um…if you had your bracelet we might be able to tell.” Dhalia’s real tail twitched and she saw Zinny’s quicksilver band stiffen and frost over like ice. It didn’t take a scholar to guess what that meant. . Damn. She knew she was forgetting something when she switched her disguises. “Oh I’m soooo sorry!” She pretended to gush, opening her throat and locking her jaw while shaping Chroma and improvising a ventriloquism double speak spell so that only her target could hear her apologies.  “Forgive my faux pas! I thought those were supposed to be solely for our outings at the mall.” “You sound like my Mom!” Zinny tittered. “No worries, it’s just a misstep!” Then giggled again like using basic manners was being in on some kind of joke. “That tutor is paying off!”  Dhalia’s mood soured and Zinny appeared to instantly regret it. “Sorry! That was a poor choice of…I can go away? Should I do that? I’ll go do-” “No, no.” Dhalia sighed, taking Zinny’s joke as a natural consequence of forgetting important details. “I’ve got that one coming. I’ll start wearing it every day first thing tomorrow.” What she really meant was ‘I’m going to include a Fae metal bracelet as part of the image projected onto this particular chimerical construct whenever I choose to don it.’  She chided herself for not remembering that particular detail. It’s something the Dolly character would have thought to do.  She’d have to remember where she left the real one laying around when she got home so she could study it; perhaps read up on what the various transformations indicated so she could better replicate the effect in her illusions. It could be very useful to learn how to telegraph false emotions using nothing more than an illusory friendship bracelet. “So have you talked to your um…tu-?” “Her name’s June.” Dhalia interrupted. “Let’s just call her that.  That name might as well have some use to Dhalia. It’s not like she really knew Jane…Doris? Dartmouth? It was a D-name. It was definitely a D-name. Might as well get her other name wrong while she was at it. “June. Right,” Zinny corrected. “Did you talk to June?” “Yes,” Dhalia sulked. “I asked her why she didn’t take my side. I said I thought we’d become friends.” Zinny tactfully avoided eye contact by carefully examining her remaining scraps of fruit. “What uh…um…what did she say?” “She said that she’s just my Nanny,” Dhalia allowed herself a good sulking droop of her and her construct’s shoulders. “Can you imagine? Someone my age? With a nanny?” Underneath her disguise Dhalia shredded the empty milk box carton in bitter frustration.  “It’s like my parents don’t even trust me to do anything right! Some people,” she huffed. “You think you know them.” “Yeah. That um…that’s not great. Sorry.” Zinny said. “Maybe there’s something you’re missing?” She phrased it as a question.  “Like, maybe you don’t know the whole story…? Or…?” “Yeah,” Dolly groused. “Sure.” She spied the owl girl she’d humiliated the other day sitting down with a tray from the a la carte line. Strange that she didn’t bring a servant packed lunch from home.  Had the Citrines fallen on hard times or was this particular daughter just slumming it? Dhalia’s own hypocrisy flew straight over her head.  “I’ve learned to consider that you don’t need to mold Chroma to be an asshole.” Zinny’s considerable ears perked up and she followed Dolly’s projected gaze.  “Shhh, keep your voice down!” “Oh please,” Dhalia didn’t even try to make Dolly seem worried. “You’re so far out of her orbit that she’s only going to notice you on her terms.” Zinny’s deflating shoulders slouched to match Dhalia’s. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” A moment of awkward silence. “It’s really hard to imagine you getting uh…talked down to like that.” Sympathy from a dumb kid suddenly wasn’t scratching the itch she’d hoped it would scratch.  “Sorry to disappoint,” Dhalia said dryly.  The dorky winged rodent caught herself just in time. “It’s just that you’re so confident. The way you tore Selene a new butthole was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen in my life!” “It’s easy to tear someone a new asshole through their ear drums when they’re capable of listening, Zinny.”  That had been an unexpectedly good day. That initial thrill of knowing that she could still be just as vicious as she was back in the good old days was probably why Dhalia kept coming back to this farce. “Well,” Zinny grinned. “At least I got you to smile!” “You wha-?” Dhalia felt her face and realized that her mask had slipped in more ways than one. She’d been so perfectly content she’d almost purred and her facial expressions had bled through to her puppet construct. “Oh. I guess you did.” Zinny folded her leathery winged appendages and hunched forward on the lunch table. “Wish I could make Selene listen.”  “Some people you can’t make listen to reason,” Dhalia quietly growled. “That’s what magic is supposed to be for.”  An intrusive thought formed inside Dhalia’s mind and instantly won out. (Was it really intrusive if it was welcome?) “So why don’t you use some magic on Selene?” “What?!” Zinny instantly looked to be on the verge of a panic attack.  “We can’t-! I can’t-! It’s…it’s…” Dhalia focused her construct enough to gently pat Zinny on the back. “I’m talking about a prank. A joke. An unkind thing that will cause no lasting harm…and she totally deserves it.” Dhalia re-cast the spell she’d cobbled together minutes ago so that her next whisper would be audible to Zinny and Zinny alone.  “Something she would do to you if she had the chance.” Dhalia couldn’t retaliate with magic against the giraffe or Jane, but there was nothing stopping her from nudging Zinny into vicarious retaliation. Someone sitting at their table should get some kind of revenge.  Technically, Dhalia wasn’t doing anything wrong. Just tutoring a student during her lunch break. “How?” The second smile coming from Dolly was purposeful. Malicious compliance and corruption were one of the few things that tasted sweeter than milk to her.  “How good are you at illusion?” Probably not very since she’d never taken any of Dhalia’s classes. Zinny made a face like she was trying to pick stray food out of her teeth using only her tongue.  “I’m okay, I guess. I practiced it a little bit at summer camp, but I’m trying to put off any courses for it here until later.” Another clever girl put off by illusion magic’s undeserved reputation. Pity, but easily rectified. “Trust me, it’s more versatile than you think. How good are you at visualizing?” “Hm?” Zinny seemed half-offended. “I’m a bat. My brain can literally translate sound into images.” “Huh. Fair enough. Do you see the bottle of lemonade Selene’s yet to open up?” “The one that’s four centimeters from the edge of her lunch table and six centimeters to the side of her right shoulder?” Now the girl was just showing off. “Yes. That one. How’s your sense of smell?” “I’m a fruit bat.” A pause. “So yes. Also very good.” Dhalia ignored the sass, pleased with herself that she could coax a bit of backbone out of the girl. “Ever gotten a whiff of the boys’ restroom? Any of them?” Zinny made a more obvious face revealing that she had. “Yeah.” “Good,” Dhalia whispered. “All you’re going to do is cast a very subtle, very simple, chicanery spell; substituting one particular sensory input for another. In your mind, I want you to think about that smell from your memory, and imagine what it must taste like.” “How am I supposed to know what old unflushed pee tastes like?” Zinny grimaced. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t know exactly what it tastes like,” Dhalia whispered. “All that matters is that you think you know.”  Zinny’s face did not get any more pleasant, but she seemed to steel herself. “Got it. I definitely think I know.” “Good. Now I want you to take some Chroma in your body and pack it all up around that thought. The thought is a strip of paper and your Chroma is the spit you’re going to soak it in and pack it all up for delivery. Now focus your will and aim it at your target. Make your will the straw and load up your spitball.” “What’s my target?” Zinny was already starting to shake. “The drink or Selene?” “Which one of those things has a brain?” Dolly asked sarcastically. “Nevermind, too close to call. Target the owl.  The moment she picks up that bottle and takes a sip of lemonade, I want you to recite a basic chicanery formulae in your head and then release.” “Release?” came Zinny’s worried half-objection. “Yes. Sometimes it helps take a deep breath and exhale like you’re going to the bathroom. Kind of like pretending to pee your pants.” The third and most wicked grin of the lunchbreak came. “Think of it as using her bottle as an imaginary toilet.” “Is there any risk of me peeing my pants?” “Are you under five or a bedwetter?” Dhalia concealed her sneer beneath Dolly’s smug veneer. “No…?” “Then probably not.” “Probably not?!” Uh oh!  “No time!” Dhalia kept whispering. “She’s about to take her first sip! If she tastes the lemonade first it will make the trick more difficult!”  Nothing Dhalia couldn’t wriggle around, but she was earnestly trying to give Zinny the win here.  “Take that taste in your brain and share it with her!!” “Got it!” Zinny quietly squeaked. “Pretending to pee my pants I guess!”  From the safety of Dolly, Dhalia watched with bated breath as Selene Citrine, Class President, unscrewed the lid on her bottle of cafeteria lemonade and took a slip. “PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPT!” A gush of yellow liquid splashed out with the last bits sputtering into a fine mist all over the popular girl’s table. “PISS!” She squawked. “WHO TRANSMUTED MY LEMONADE INTO PISS?!” Her cronies had barely sat their own trays down. They started falling all over themselves to clean up the mess and make a show of being on the look out for further assailants. Anybody could “transmute” lemonade into piss given about two hours. Even that idiot giraffe.  It took skill and a flair for the subversive yet dramatic to teach what Dhalia had just taught.  The rest of the cafeteria erupted into raucous laughter. Future battle mages and blood ball players; band and bard geeks; seniors all the way down to freshmen. Custodial enchanted mops and wash rags came alive and started wiping down the lemonade and saliva misted surfaces the way an anthill bust into action when kicked.  Even the divination kids seemed caught off guard and it tickled them pink.   The owl bitch brushed herself down and handed the perfectly untampered with beverage off with one arm as her head rotated nearly three hundred and sixty degrees searching for the prankster or pranksters.  Her stop searched when her eyes settled on the bat and cat. “Just act natural,” Dolly told her charity-case quietly. “Laugh a bit like you haven’t realized she’s looking at you. We’re allowed to think it’s funny.” “Heh-heh.” Zinny fake-laughed and gave a smile that one would have to be blind to see wasn’t cracked by sheer terror. “Heh. Is she buying it?”  “It doesn’t matter if she’s buying it or not.” Dolly returned.  “It’s called plausible deniability. Oh yeah, it’s probably not a big deal, but don’t tell anybody what you learned at summer camp.” “Right,” Zinny agreed, forcing a smile. Wasn’t going to, but um…good to know. RIght?”   “Okay,” Dhalia sighed. “I’m going to count to three in my head, and then elbow you like I just noticed she’s staring. Ready?” “Ready.” One. Two. Three. Dolly’s head turned and locked eyes fully with the owl brat. “Oh,” she mouthed and then pointed at the scowling girl. “I think she’s mad.”  In a much lower voice, she double talked and projected into Zinny’s considerable ears. “Just play along.” The fruit bat lacked the skill to double talk back, but she got the message. “Hm?” she feigned just noticing Selene’s glare. “Oh. Ha!” She seemed appropriately amused but surprised, probably because she was barely acting.  “Now give her a little wave and a shrug,” Dolly said. “We didn’t do this, but we’re not sad it happened.” In unison, the purple cat construct and the bluish grey bat student waved and gave a shrug as if to say ‘Sucks to be you, but what can you do?’. Eventually, the owl stormed off to throw a tantrum in the nearest ladies’ room. “Fffffff!” Dhalia almost swore. She hadn’t changed before coming here, and the nearest bathroom was about to be occupied by a dumb petty hen of a bird of prey. She’d have to leave now if she wanted to have enough time to get back to her classroom. “What’s wrong?” Zinny frowned in concern. “Nothing.” Dolly scooted out from behind her chair and started speed out of the cafeteria. “Just having some um…need to get going.”  “Oh. Okay!”  Zinny chirped. She cupped her hands so she could be heard above the laughing crowd of teenagers. “Hang out more later?” ‘Later’ didn’t have to be any time soon.  “Sure!” Dolly called back before turning a corner and temporarily ceasing to exist as soon as Dhalia was certain the coast was clear.  ****************************************************************************************** So yeah, Diary! I did it! I actually got one over on Selene Citrine! All thanks to my new best friend at school, Dolly!  Love, Zinny P.S. Don’t tell her we’re best friends, yet. I think she’d over react because labels like that aren’t cool enough. You know how cats can be. But yeah. Things might finally be looking up for yours truly! P.P.S. Please don’t be jealous, Diary. I could never replace you. I’m just making room for more!   

Part 3: By Hemlock & Personalias Kory Ender had woken up at seven in the morning, taken her long black hair out of its silk sleeping bonnet, straightened it, and pulled it into a sleek high ponytail that Ariana Grande would have been proud of. Then, once done with her morning skin care routine and dressed in her athletic tights, matching sports bra, and a self cropped Miscatonic University t-shirt, she went for a morning run. This took her through the MU Courtyard, usually littered with trash, occasionally with a dead body, past the cemetery outside of the college's mortuary school, and nearby the athletic fields where on any given day she might be able to run into one of her many male admirers.  When she wanted to run into one of her female admirers, she would detour to the coffee shop where she would get the best non-fat oatmilk dirty chai latte. By the time she got back to her room at the on-campus house she shared with three of her fellow cheerleaders, it was eight thirty. Which meant she had an hour to switch her athletic leggings into her athletic shorts, fill her thirty-two ounce water bottle from her sixty-four ounce water filter, and walk over to the athletic center to get the tumbling mats set out for the squad. The cheer captain should always be early to practice.  And she would have been today, too, but when she opened the door to the locker room she found that her whole squad had beaten her. Not only that, but they were all in their uniforms  and game day makeup and hair, instead of their usual practice outfits, “Um, hello?” No one seemed to notice the confusion on her face, “It’s a bye week on the football schedule, we’re supposed to be practicing our Inversions and Rewinds today.” Unity, Kory’s chosen second in command (because she never had an original thought that Kory didn’t tell her to have), excitedly stepped up to her handing over Kory’s pom poms. “The big wrestling match is today. You said it yourself that we’re ready for the two-high pyramid twist dismount!” Kory’s face would have paled if she still wasn’t stuck on the ‘wrestling match’ part of Unity’s info dump.  “Excuse me, is everyone incredibly high right now? We don’t cheer at wrestling meets.” Not that Kory hadn’t thought of showing up in her cheer uniform to distract Andy once or twice, but cheer performances had standards, damnit!  Before Unity could respond, one of the other girls called out “It’s time! We need to get out there!” and Kory was pulled along with them. Not towards the inside track and field that was usually reserved for the squad, but towards the gymnasium where Kory could hear the roar of a crowd.  “What the-?” She stepped into the gym that was normally half-full with good turnout. Presently, it was packed! More than packed! Bursting to the brim! Banners hung from rafters and people in the audience carried posterboard signs: “FIGHTIN’ CUTTLEFISH!” and “WHATCHA GONNA DO WHEN MU RUNS WILD ON YOU!” and “ARKHAM 3:16”. At center court a ring had been set up with barricades surrounding it and rows and rows of folding chairs. The energy was the finals of March Madness by way of the Roman Coliseum. Unity and the rest of the squad were on the performer’s side of the barricade waving to the crowd, bouncing in their uniforms. Kory knew she had to look out of place in her practice clothes, until she looked down past the pom-poms in her hands and saw that her uniform had miraculously manifested onto her body.  “Is there a witch messing with the cheerleaders again?” She asked, but no one seemed to have heard her. “Whatever, I might as well go along with this until I figure out what’s going on.” She quickly joined the rest of the squad in the spot that had been designated for them and shouted down to the line for them to start their standard first quarter Miscatonic Spirit Chants. “BLACK!”  Clap Clap “PURPLE!” Clap-clap Clap-clap “COME ON M-U, LET’S FIGHT!” Kory shouted down a couple more cheers for them to do until the announcer, who was some woman Kory had never seen before and not the usual withered old man, pulled the microphone up. “INTRODUCING FROM MOONVALE, MASSACHUSETTS, STANDING AT SIX FOOT ONE, WEIGHING IN AT TWO-HUNDRED AND NINETEEN POUNDS, HE IS THE MISCATONIC UNIVERSITY WRESTLING FEDERATION’S HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD! BABYFACE ANDYYYYYYYYYYYY HENDERSOOOOOOOON!” “Did that loser have something to do with this?” Kory asked no one in particular. She shouted down to the squad “Pregame tunnel cheers!” Which was just them waving their pom-poms and whooping with the crowd to get them excited. She couldn’t see Andy yet, but could imagine the shit-eating grin that he had to have at being titled the MU heavyweight champion.  Andy did indeed have a huge grin on his face, he was also wearing a baby blue bonnet, for some reason. Kory kept cheering with the crowd as he struggled up the steps on the ring that had been set up in the stadium, still unable to see him completely. Until he did a few laps around the ring and waved at Kory. That was when her mouth dropped open. He was wearing a baby bonnet, and a baby onesie, with matching booties. It all was accompanied by bulge hugging his crotch and butt that could only be a diaper. Andy did not seem to have noticed any of it, and when he made eye contact with Kory he mouthed ‘Can you believe it?’ Which she could not. Seeing her friend in a weird internet porn get up was too much for Kory who quickly turned around and ran back to the locker rooms. She had to get away and find the others. Mainly Syble, the brains who could always lead them through any crisis. Warren was really only good at picking up the donuts for the group, Kory thought. She burst through the locker room doors hoping to quickly grab her things and head towards the library. But the locker room doors didn’t open up to the locker room. Kory instead found herself smack dab in the middle of Whedon Hall. That was on the other side of campus! “What the fuck?” she muttered, turning around to find the doors behind her were now the heavy oak of the old campus building and not those of the athletic center. Fellow students were walking through the hall, heads buried in books and papers. Which wouldn’t have been unusual except that it was a Saturday and no one had a reason to be in this building if classes weren’t going on.  What made it even more unusual was everyone was wearing an absolutely dorky uniform. Men were walking in black french toast shorts, purple sweater vests over dress shirts with bow ties, and boat shoes with socks that went all the way up to their knees. The women were wearing the same thing, except they wore pleated black skirts and mary janes instead of boat shoes.  “Kory!” It was Unity, again, running up to the confused cheer captain. But somehow she had found time to change from her game day uniform to one of the nerdy school uniforms, and had traded in her make up for glasses. Her hair was still in the braided pig tails that she had worn in the gym. Whatever curse this was still found that acceptable. “Presentations are today! Eeee!” Unity squealed. “I’m so excited to give mine! Aren’t you?” Kory had to take a moment to shake herself out of her stupor. The Unity she knew struggled to keep her GPA up to not end up on academic probation and lose her spot on the squad. She was more about partying than presentation.  “Hahahahah, okay Uni, where’s the hidden camera?” Kory expected a crew to pop out at any moment. One of those overly popular YouTube channels whose gimmick was pulling dumb pranks like this all the time. Unity’s mouth made the perfect O when Kory said camera. “Ooooh, I bet the professor will be filming our presentations! Gosh, Kory,” Unity snorted and slid her glasses further up her nose. “You think of everything. That’s why you’re the top student in the honors program!” Kory Ender very well could have been in the honors program if she wanted to be. She didn’t, though, and actually worked rather hard to keep her GPA high enough to still be on the squad but low enough to never make it onto the dean’s list.  Unity, who usually struggled to read digital clocks, looked at her watch. “Oh gee willickers! We need to get into the lecture hall, there’s no time to even stop at the changing tables.” Kory found herself being pulled into a room against her will before she could ask Unity what she meant by ‘changing tables’.  “Glad to see you made it on time, Ms. Ender.” Behind the professor's desk in the lecture hall sat the mysterious woman that had announced Andy before he waddled in front of the whole student body in that horrifying outfit. “I would hate for you to lose your extra credit for perfect attendance.” An obnoxious, honking, snorting, tittering laugh rose up from the students sitting in the hall. Every seat was filled except for two at the front, one of which Unity took. A crinkling noise came from the blonde as she sat. Actually, there were a lot of students emitting crinkling noises as they moved and adjusted themselves in their seats.  Kory felt out of place in her cheerleader uniform. Or, she would have felt out of place in her cheerleaders uniform.  But just as before in the gym, she now found herself now wearing the same dorky, stereotypically nerdy uniform as her fellow students. There was also something off about the panties she was wearing. They felt too thick and bulky.  A chill ran down her spine, remembering the babyish bulge that Andy had sported. She reached down hesitantly and lifted her skirt up in front of the class.  “EWWW!” she dropped her skirt, trying her best not to freak out. “Why am I wearing A DIAPER?”  “You’re in the honors program! No one in the college honors program is potty trained! You’re all far too focused on your studies to focus on silly things like bathroom breaks!”  The professor explained, leaving her desk and checking Kory’s diaper without permission. “Good! All of your busy bees are happy on your diaper, for now. Please go ahead and start your presentation, Ms. Ender.”  “But I’m a cheerleader!” Kory stomped, as if that was going to make anyone wake up and realize they shouldn’t be wearing baby diapers as college students. The classroom just laughed that same unnerving, snorting, stuttering laugh, as if it was an obvious joke that Kory could be anything other than a fellow diapered nerd. Even Unity gave in to giggling until she gasped and grabbed at her diapered crotch. “Uh-oh! I’m going pee-pee!”  The professor nodded approvingly and cooed. “Good girl, Ms. Bell, we’ll change you before your presentation.”  Kory needed to run out. This was a nightmare. Her stomach was sinking as she watched her friend happily kick her feet and stuff a pacifier in her mouth to suck on. There was no way Kory could stay in this room any longer.  Her feet wanted to run the hell away but they felt rooted to the floor. Kory had to find Syble. Her stomach was sinking as she wondered if this was going to be permanent.  “I’m not a – hrrnnnn.” She grunted and grabbed her stomach with both hands. “Not a diapered – hmm-...!” Her body squatted for her. Her bladder released first. A faint psssshh came from under her skirt and she felt a warm wetness start to spread between her legs. Then came a fffrrrbbbtt, and Kory Ender starting messing her diaper in front of the entire class. “...-NEEEEEEERD! It felt like an eternity for Kory to stop feeling mush spread in her baby pants. When she was done, the professor asked “Are you all done, Ms. Ender?” Kory could only meekly nod in response, still frozen in her awkward crouch. She was afraid to move and spread the sticky mess even more.  “Well done!” The professor led the classroom in clapping for the cheerleader turned diaper nerd.  “Wow, what a great speech!” One student exclaimed. Another nodded, “What else could we expect from Kory? She’s the best at everything she does!” “It’s a good thing I don’t have to follow her.” “Eeep!” Kory felt her skirt get lifted up from behind. The professor was checking her again, this time being very thorough and grabbing her filled seat, pressing the fresh mess up against her. Just when she thought she couldn’t feel any less of a pathetic dork, too. “This is almost a blowout. I can’t take care of this at my desk.” The skirt dropped and Kory no longer worried about what moving would do to the contents in her diaper. “You are excused from the rest of class to go to one of the changing stations. That’s not going to be a quick change.”    Tears in her eyes, Kory nodded, and cautiously waddled to the door. She needed to go find Syble, but she was hoping she could find one of those changing stations first.  ******************************************************************************************************* Jeremy stood in front of the dark green writing board, a piece of powder white chalk clutched painfully between his thumb and two fingers. As he scrawled out words, he read them aloud. “I…must…not…procrastinate. I…must not…procrastinate.” It was the only way he could keep going. “I…must…not…pro…crast…i…nate.” “DON’T STOP!” the voice commanded him. “NO STALLING, JEREMY! KEEP GOING!” It sounded like every teacher Jeremy had ever hated for telling him he wasn’t living up to his potential. “I…must…not…procrastinate.”  He didn’t want to do this, but it was the only way. The door to the computer lab had vanished. As had the computers. As had his phone or any way to contact the outside world. “I…must not…pro…procrastinate.” Jeremy’s eyes drooped. He’d been here since 3am, trying to finish an assignment that had been due yesterday but Jeremy knew-just knew-that if he had gotten it into the professor’s inbox before he woke up today, he’d be given partial credit. “I must…not…procraaaaastinate.”  His stomach rumbled. He’d missed breakfast.  Maybe had missed lunch, too.  There was no way to tell the time save for the screaming disembodied voice telling him to hurry up. “YOU WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE, DON’T YOU?” “Y-y-yes ma’am! Or sir! Or…” “QUIT DAWDLING THEN!” Behind him and to either side were entire green walls full of the same lesson he’d been made to write over and over and over again. Every single wall was now an old fashioned chalkboard like in the movies. The rest of the space had become eerily vacant. Just him. The chalkboards. And chalk. Lots and lots of chalk. “I must not procrastinate.” Every joint in his fingers on both hands ached like they had been ground down by a mill stone. If he wrote too big for the disembodied voice’s liking the whole side of the wall board would erase itself and he’d have to start that side all over. He found that out the hard way more than once.  He could not sleep. He could not run. He could not bargain. He could not break his way out. The only thing left for him to do…was write. “I. Must. Not. Procrastinate.” Finally! He put down the chalk, his hands feeling gnarled like old roots and pinching together like crab claws. “Done!” he panted. “I did it!” Then he waited a minute. Then another. “Hello?” “VERY GOOD!” The disembodied voice erupted! “NOW! DO THE OTHER SIDE!” “Other si-?” Jeremy gaped in horror as all four walls flipped one-hundred and eight degrees, revealing completely new wall sized slates for him to record his ‘lesson’ on procrastination upon. “AND DO IT IN CURSIVE THIS TIME!” Cursive? Jeremy hadn’t written anything in cursive since middle school! “C-c-an I at least go to the bathroom?” Jeremy begged, trying anything and everything to get out. “I really need to go!” “NO EXCUSES! NO STALLING!” The thing is, Jeremy wasn’t lying. “But I really have to go!” KLANG! Jeremy whipped his head to the corner of the room directly behind him. Where once there had been a stool with a dunce cap nat sat a simple steel bucket. “IF YOU REALLY HAVE TO GO, USE THIS! THEN GET BACK TO WORK!”

Wonderful stuff! I think he could grow into a wonderful daddy.