Watersports

If I wanted to I could hike nude in Norway. Doesn't matter  if I meet people, as long as I look sane and doesn't act in a sexual way.  So no helicopter or stroking.  But thankfully most people have common sense, and do like me, hike  where there are little to no people. I can  legally wear only a diaper anywhere in Norway.  It covers more than a speedo. 

IT'S VEGAS, BABY! Johnny Spagnoli lowered his seat back and raised his empty champagne flute on high. One of the reasons why Western was in fact “the only way to fly?” Because the service in first class was so attentive. Granted, gate to gate between LA and Vegas was usually less than an hour, but Johnny always flew first class because he enjoyed being pampered. He missed the go-go dancer outfits that the stews had sported earlier in the decade, but the service was as good as ever. “More champagne, Mister Spagnoli?” Another one of the perks in first class was having the crew address you by name. It was a sign of respect that the peasants back in coach never experienced. “Thank you, Ingrid; don't mind if I do.” While she poured, Johnny shuffled through the stack of photos on the tray table. Friday had been brutal, but rewarding. His return flight from Vegas had landed a little after midnight, but it had taken him another hour to get home. He had managed a few hours sleep before crawling out of bed, getting dressed, and hoofing it up to Ventura's harbor. Using a high powered telephoto lens, he had got good shots of Marlin Hunter and the men coming and going. He had followed one of them to a dirt lot on the outskirts of Oxnard, which was filled with pickup trucks. Gambling that the whole of the inbound crew would show up here, he had parked down the road and watched as one guy after another pulled in, changed rides, and pulled out. Everyone headed towards Ventura, but the one guy he followed made a detour to the Continental Inn before heading to a nearby choke and puke. He had only spent a couple of minutes in the office, and when he came out he was carrying a sheaf of envelopes-- this had been a mail call. The restaurant's parking lot had been full of pickups, so it looked like the whole gang had stopped by for lunch. But when they came out, some of his pigeons continued on to Ventura while others crossed the highway and headed back towards Oxnard and Port Hueneme. He tailed one of the trucks into downtown Oxnard, and watched from a bench at a bus stop as the driver walked into the Security Pacific bank building. Playing a hunch, Johnny stayed where he was when the guy came out, got in his truck, and drove away. From where he was sitting, Johnny could also see the Bank of America, and in due course two more of the crew walked through its doors. He guessed that their paychecks came in the mail, and that they were hitting the banks to make deposits and withdrawals both. These were the kind of guys who paid cash for their pleasures; they wouldn't want to leave a paper tail for anyone to follow. Confident that he understood how the operation was organized, Johnny wasted no time getting back to LA. He dropped off the film to be developed at his neighborhood photo shop, and then went home. He badly needed to catch up on his sleep. He would fly off to Vegas on Saturday, and this time stay the night. There was a bloc of rooms at the Stardust permanently reserved for members of the Outfit. . . . . “Where are we going, Pris? This isn't the way home.” After proctoring his mid-morning exam, Ian had spent long hours in his office grading papers, and by five o'clock he was ready to call it a day and head home. But Priscilla seemed to have other plans, and the change in routine bothered him. He was on a war footing, and wanted everything to go off as scheduled. “Bloomington. You've had a long day, Ian, so you're taking the night off. I ordered four large pizzas, and that should be enough to take care of everyone attending this evening's edition of the Saturday night frolic. The turnout will be a bit light because Carlie is off to The Pig Sty, and Vic and I are spending the night with our parents. Mom has apparently been cooking up a storm, so we're saving our appetites for the feast.” “But I'm supposed to prepare dinner ...” “No, Ian, you're supposed to give us babies, but that won't happen if you can't get it up. At the moment you've got a lot going on, so you need to cut back … save your strength. Think about it. You've got Sarah tonight, and again next Sunday night, which by some wild coincidence happens to be your wedding night. There's no slack in the schedule, despite the fact that next week is going to be one of the busiest in your entire life. Tonight, take a well-earned break.” “You're right, of course,” Ian sighed. “But do you want me to go with you and Vic?” “No. Thanks for offering, but no. The whole point of this outing is to give Vic a chance to lay out her troubled past for her new Dad, so that he doesn't make any wrong moves in the future. Tonight is when Vickie joins the family as a unit. I expect everything to go well, especially if Vic asks Dad to teach her how to ride a motorcycle!” “I don't know much about bikes,” Ian laughed. “Can pregnant ladies still ride, or does all that vibrating ground them?” “Best to stay off the bike altogether, but riding during the third trimester is an absolute no-no!” “Then, if things go according to plan, the two of you will be missing Sturgis next year.” Ian's broad smile was heartfelt. . . . . “Soup's on,” Priscilla called out as she ambled into the dining room and dropped the four big pizza boxes on the table. Carrying his briefcase and diaper bag in one hand and a heavy diaper pail in the other, Ian followed more slowly. “Pizza,” Francine yelped as she leapt off the couch and rushed to the table. She had just finished changing Vickie's very messy diaper, which was so stinky that Sarah had banished her to the shower. “No jumping the gun,” Sarah warned. “Reiko has other plans, but Marge, Candy and Becky will be here shortly. We'll wait.” “Glad you're okay with pizza,” Ian murmured. “Burying my head in blue books for almost five hours has reduced my brain to mush. Turn me loose in the kitchen, and I'd probably burn the house down.” “How's your diaper holding up,” Sarah asked as she favored him with a warm smile. “It's been over three hours, so I'm probably dirty.” “Then you're nursery bound. Take off your clothes, and climb up on the changing table. Francie will be in to take care of you. If you need a shower, you can use mine when Vic finishes up.” “Thanks, Mommy; Pris is right … I need to get some rest.” Dropping the diaper pail at his feet, Ian wandered off. He tossed the diaper bag into his crib and slid his briefcase underneath it. It would take him another five hours to finish marking up the remaining blue books, and still more time to reread the ones where the grade could go either way. Thankfully, the only hurdle that he would have to jump on Sunday was getting fitted for a tuxedo. He had discouraged Sarah from opting for a military wedding because some of the medals that decorated his tunic would make him the center of attention, and the spotlight was always supposed to be on the bride. Sarah had waited a long time for this moment, and he wanted her to shine. “Good baby,” Francie crooned when she walked into the nursery. Ian had undressed and was laying on the changing table, just as Sarah had instructed. “Roll over so that I can undo the onesie, and then we'll get to it.” Once again, Ian silently obeyed, and in short order Francie had discarded the onesie and his pink baby pants. His diaper was, as expected, covered with mushy poop. “Let's get rid of the cage,” she added as she unlocked the chastity device. She was going to wash it out in the bathroom, and treat it with a light coating of machine oil. Ian wouldn't need it again until Monday morning at the earliest. “Wet wipes will do for now,” she observed, “but Sarah might want you to take a shower before your maintenance spanking. You will certainly need one before we head out to the shops tomorrow.” “This reminds me of the hospital,” Ian grimaced. “For more than seven months, I never saw a tub or shower. I was bathed in bed, and the nurses used very rough cloths to keep my skin from flaking. Even sitting on a stool, that first real shower in Hawaii was heavenly. It wasn't until the night I was discharged, staying at an airport hotel in Los Angeles, that I was finally able to stand up in the shower. The sense of freedom that I felt in that moment is indescribable.” “And yet you're into restraints. The two things don't jive.” “Didn't need them in the hospital because I didn't have to make any decisions. Here they make me feel safe … or, at least, they did. Getting it all out in the open … don't think I need them anymore.” “Except for the cage,” Francie giggled as she lightly tapped Ian's penis. “Except for the cage,” he agreed, “but on the bright side, look what happens when it comes off!” Ian laughed as his cock started to spring to life. Francie was hard at work, but his libido was chalking the wet wipes up to foreplay. “Fancy a freebie,” he whispered. “No time,” she replied in a distinctly husky voice. “I don't want the pizza to get cold!” . . . . Rolling over onto her tummy, Hollie reached back to undo the clasps that kept her bikini top in place. She had a nice tan, and she worked hard to maintain it. She had spent most of the day lounging by the Continental Inn's pool, retiring only twice to service a couple of McElroy's buddies. But the whole crew was sex starved after three weeks at sea, and they were keeping the girls busy. By mid-afternoon Lana and Maureen had each pulled off three scores, while Dana had managed four. “Like shooting fish in a barrel,” Dana smirked as she dropped another hundred and fifty dollars into Hollie's oversized beach bag. There were fourteen apples in this particular bunch, and Dana's was the twelfth to be picked since breakfast. Hollie was handling all the money, but her bag never moved, and it was never out of Jerry Costanza's sight. After reversing the charges on a long distance call to Vegas from a particular phone booth in Santa Barbara's airport terminal, Jerry had hastened back to Ventura to keep watch over his stable. He had picked up lunch along the way-- sandwiches, salads and soda pop for all. Now he was sitting quietly at a table on the opposite side of the pool, a beach umbrella shading him from the sun. Dana sat down on the lounge chair to Hollie's right, and picked up her magazine. She loved puzzles, and she was hooked on a brand new one called sudoku. It had first appeared a few months earlier, but it had already gained a large following. Grabbing a pen, Dana got to work. On the inside of the back cover, she wrote down the name and home address of her latest client. She had taken a quick peek at the driver's licenses of two of her pigeons, and she knew that Lana and Maureen had acquired a few names of their own. “When it comes to operational security,” she smirked, “this bunch leaves a lot to be desired. Think they'll feed us?” Hollie glanced at the two picnic tables overlooking the beach. The guys had fired up the inn's charcoal grill, and most of them were sitting around drinking beer while watching the flames lick the briquettes. Steaks and baked potatoes were ready and waiting. “Don't know. Eating this early tells me that they have a busy night planned. The Pirate's Roost no doubt awaits. If it comes to it, we can always grab something when we get there.” “Works for me. When do you want to put this bunch in your rear view mirror?” “Monday morning. We'll take off right after breakfast … collect our winter gear then head to the airport. Pacific has an early afternoon flight to LA. They use the same terminal as PSA, so it's an easy connect to Vegas. We should be at the Stardust well before six.” “Sounds good. Cocktails … dinner … the slots ...” “Or a sit-down with the capo.” Hollie didn't want to rain on Dana's parade, but she did want her friend to keep her head in the game. “This isn't a pleasure cruise, girlfriend; I don't know what were mixed up in, but it's big. We need to think about the best way to lay out what we've learned. Play this right, in Vegas and Minneapolis both, and we could end up in bed with the high rollers.” “A sugar daddy, and a condo overlooking the Strip,” Dana smiled. She had moved up from the truck stops in West Memphis, but servicing construction crews in cheap motels on the California coast was no one's definition of the good life. She needed Vegas to make her dreams come true. . . . . “Not the ideal night for our first family dinner,” Vickie said with a half smile. “It's my time of the month, and it's hitting me hard. It's a good thing that I'm wearing a diaper because my control is shot.” “Don't worry about it, Vic.” Julia reached over to pat her new daughter on the arm. “Just enjoy dinner, and tell me when you need a change. I'll take care of it.” “Mom, the lasagna's fantastic, and the sauce doesn't taste like it came out of a can. Homemade?” Priscilla's compliment was sincere. Julia had promised the girls a firstclass meal, and she had delivered. “Very much so. The shell is the only thing that came out of a package.” “Julia has always been a great cook,” Herb said with a smile, “but most of the year we have to make do because the private eye business takes up so much of her time ...” “Stakeouts,” Priscilla laughed. “But during the holidays Mom doesn't have many clients, so we eat up a storm between Thanksgiving and the New Year. We all put on weight, and until Spring have to loosen the old belt buckle another notch.” “Or two,” Herb laughed as he patted his belly. “My mom hated to cook,” Vickie threw out. “When I was a kid, she used the TV as an excuse to serve TV dinners. They're gross.” “Your dad put up with it?” Herb found it hard to believe; no matter how pressed for time, Julia had always tried to put a decent meal on the table. “He knew better than to complain. Mom kept me in nighttime diapers until I was nine even though I stopped wetting the bed when I was seven. He never stood up for me, and when he fondled me to see if I was still a virgin, that was probably her doing too.” Herb sadly shook his head. It was screamingly obvious that Vickie had had a horrible childhood. “So I guess neither of us will be changing the other's diapers,” he quietly observed. “Probably for the best,” Vickie just as quietly conceded. “Sorry to be such a downer at the dinner table, but it all just kind of slipped out.” “Don't worry about it,” Herb grinned. “In this family, the really pressing problems always get sorted out over dinner, preferably before we get to dessert. We don't like anything to take the edge off a nice slice of chocolate cake or rhubarb pie.” “Or the raspberries and homemade marscapone that's on tap tonight,” Julia laughed. “I'm glad you spoke up, Vic.” Herb reached out to clasp her hand. “We're not big on keeping secrets around here, but we are big on helping each other out … well, except at your time of the month. It's amazing how many times over the years I've found something pressing to do in the garage. It's heated for a reason.” “Ian and I have a date tomorrow night; I just hope I don't drive him away.” “He might be the only guy of my acquaintance who could roll with that particular punch. After all, this is a guy who picked Babs up off the floor, in more ways than one. I wouldn't ever underestimate him.” “Thanks, Dad. It's good to be home.” Looking around the table, feeling its warmth, Vickie knew that she was finally where she belonged. . . . . After checking in, Johnny tipped a bellhop to take his bag up to his room before heading outside to grab a taxi. He was headed for a steakhouse just off the Strip on West Sahara; the capo had booked a booth, and not just any booth. This one regularly hosted Frank Sinatra and other members of the Rat Pack. Johnny and the Ant could talk business without worrying about wiretaps and nosy feds. The booth was clean. “What ya got for me,” Tony asked as soon as Johnny sat down. The capo was not big on small talk. “A blueprint of the operation,” Johnny explained as he began to haul photos out of his slender briefcase. “Any lawyer should be able to fill in the details.” “Whaddya drinking?” “Glenlivet … on the rocks.” Tony nodded at a nearby waiter, who scampered off to fill the order. “They're using a big sport fisherman out of La Jolla, the Marlin Hunter. Goes out once every three weeks; round trip on Friday was three and a half hours. Say ninety minutes each way and thirty at the dock. Registration will tell you who owns it, but the maintenance records will give you the engines, and they will have a top speed. Knock a bit off to compensate for the load, and you'll know where to start looking.” Johnny passed the photos of the craft across the table. Marlin Hunter was sitting low in the water, so it was already fully fueled and the cargo stowed away. Once she cleared the harbor, he figured that the Captain would turn her loose. “Got some good shots of the guys we're dealing with. Here on the mainland the crew that's off duty holes up at an upscale beachfront motel called the Continental Inn. They must be regulars because at least one guy has his mail sent there. They eat at one of the choke and pukes on the highway between Oxnard and Ventura, and probably do their drinking at one of the bars along there as well ...” “The Pirate's Roost,” Tony murmured under his breath. Jerry Costanza's report over the telephone had been quite detailed. “Got any names,” he went on. “No names, but shot some license plates, which is pretty much the same thing. This one here?” Johnny pulled a photo out of the stack. “When they finished lunch, one by one they came out, got in their trucks, and headed towards Ventura. But this guy went the other way, so I decided to follow him. We ended up in downtown Oxnard, where he paid a visit to the Security Pacific bank branch. After he left, I decided to stay put because I could see two other banks from where I was sitting. I was playing a hunch and it paid off.” Johnny pulled out two more prints. “The guys driving these two trucks ended up at the Bank of America. Looks to me like they come ashore every three weeks, collect the paychecks being mailed to them, then head to the bank. In their shoes, I'd take out enough cash to pay for all my needs … minimize my footprint by not writing checks or using a credit card.” “You did well, Johnny.” Tony worked his way through the photographs, dividing them into different piles. “I'll pass the boat along to Bosworth,” he added as he thumbed one of the shots of Marlin Hunter. “Yeah", Johnny agreed, “this one's got Aaron's name all over it.” Aaron Bosworth protected the Outfit's interests in courtrooms all over Southern California. His fees were over scale, but he had proved his worth on more than one occasion. “Take the rest of the weekend off, Johnny; enjoy yourself. Next week, get back up there. Don't approach these ass wipes, but figure out a way to take down all their license plates. As you say, it's just like taking down their names.” “Consider it done,” Johnny grinned. “Want a steak?” “Yeah, I need something to go with the Scotch,” Johnny took a small sip of his drink. Glenlivet was far too good to take down in a gulp. He had the time because it was far too early for the high rollers to show up at the craps table. A good steak, a roll of the dice, and then the finale-- a roll in the hay with one of the fair young maidens who orbited around the high rollers. Life was good.

Day 4: No change that I notice.

After parking the car in the garage Madison and Camilla got out and took the stuff in the car, Madison did need help finding her new room as the house was big, clothes and stuffed animals were taken to Madison's room as the DVDs were taken down stairs so Camila could go through them. She wanted to see if there were any more surprises like the Sofia the First complete collection that she found yesterday.

Hey look: It's Chapter 3!  I think I might like this story. ---- Lydia hugged her pillow tightly as she slowly stirred from sleeping. A curl of hair had snuck into her mouth at night, noticing its chewy texture, she carefully plucked it out before burrowing back into the fluffy headrest. The old hag must’ve changed sheets recently…dope The young witch’s thoughts lingered in semiconsciousness while sighing heavily into the divine pillow. It’d frankly be a crime against witchdom to even think about starting the day, and so, she turned around in bed, lazying about contentedly. She felt incredible, and not even her crinkling pajamas disturbed her rest. Hmm? She shifted again, slightly more awake now. *Crinkle crinkle* ….That’s not the sound pajamases make…and for the record, I don’t remember putting any on last night. Bleary-eyed, Lydia shifted around, taking in her surroundings. …Why are there bars around my bed? There was simply no way she’d been thrown in jail, right? Her largest offence—to her knowledge—was the occasional brash attitude and a tendency for speaking her mind, neither of which had been outlawed as of yet, as far as Lydia was concerned.  Wait…this isn’t my room. *Crinkle* And where is that infernal sound coming from?! She groaned as she rose from her pillows, her eyes adjusting to the dim lights. Oh, right…I’m in a large nursery, my pajamas is actually a onesie, and the crinkling is most likely coming from this diaper around my waist. Okay, makes perfect sense to me. Back to slee—! ”What the fudge!” she yelled, throwing the sheets to the side, revealing a big, puffy diaper around her butt. It was as dangerously comfortable as she remembered.  Serissa’s Seven Sins! What happened yesterday? Lydia’s thoughts jumbled around, trying to remember. She did not have to wait long for the answer to present itself however. ”Oh, is my little apprentice awake? Mommy’s coming~,” a melodic voice let out from beyond the room. Oh no… The All-Mother or just ’Mommy’ as she wanted to be called, strode effortlessly into the room, a wide smile plastered on her face.  No, no, no… Apparently, the giantess had foregone yesterday’s luscious, white robes and instead sported a more homely black knitted sweater and comfy sweatpants. Her hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and her otherwise piercing eyes veiled behind a pair of round glasses.  But while she appeared modestly, she was still the most gorgeous woman Lydia had ever laid eyes on.   ”Goodmorning, Ly-Ly!” she cheered, looking over the crib, ”did you sleep well, baby?” Lydia’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. It was clear that yesterday’s shenanigans were still on the table. ”No,” she lied, unconvincingly. In fact, she wanted to go back to sleep immediately, maybe then she could actually try to wake up from the nightmare staring her in the face.  Lydia shifted back, defiantly throwing the sheets back over her, but the giantess just giggled in reply. ”That good, huh?” the woman smiled, and reached into the crib, grabbing the cocooned Lydia. “But…Mommy wants to get started on breakfast, so no more sleepytime for now, missy!” ”No! Don’t touch me!” Lydia clung to the bars in vain, but they were easily separated. The All-Mother unwrapped Lydia, ignoring her pleas.  “Peekaboo!” she said, meeting Lydia’s eyes. The young witch squinted, bracing for the glamour that was soon to hit her, turning her mushy and compliant, but it never came. Odd…, she thought as she carefully opened her eyes again, getting a wide smile in return. “And a hello to you too!” the All-Mother cooed. “Now, we will have time to play later, babygirl, but first…” She patted Lydia around the back, kneading the diaper’s fluffiness against her bum. The young witch had to contain an embarrassed squeal, as she turned red in the face once more.  Is she… is she giving me a diaper check!? The giantess finished by putting two fingers under the waistband, pulling back. “Okay! All clean for now, cutiepie.” “No…Really? Who could have guessed?” Lydia snipped. She swore on the inside, trying in vain to weave a proper spell now that she had recovered, but the mana simply slipped between her fingers like melted butter.  Shit, shit shit! Why isn’t it working! ”Aww, no need to be crabby, sweetie. Mommy understand that your diaper feels a little clammy, but you’re not wet or messy at the moment. Let’s not be wasteful, okay?” It was enough to make Lydia shudder that she wasn’t getting out of the diapers any time soon, but to actually be expected to use them… How can she say something so insane while being so genuinely sweet about it! ”For the record, they are not my diapers,” she protested. “I haven’t needed one since I was two, maybe three, tops! And I’m not about to start now!” ”Whatever you say, babygirl. Let’s get some num nums in your tum tum, hmm?” she responded, completely ignoring the comment, carrying Lydia out to the kitchen. Lydia dragged her hands across her face. Cyric be damned, kill me… She struggled only momentarily however, before realizing that escape was impossible against the giant’s unholy strength. It was definitely not because being held by the All-Mother was extremely calming and cozy, and Lydia would fight anyone trying to tell her differently. Still…her glamours aren’t as strong today, since I haven’t collapsed into a mushy pile yet. I wonder if she’s limiting herself in some way.  Her analytical mind was already going over the different reasons for the aura of splendor that surrounded the All-Mother. It was, perhaps, unlike any magic she’d encountered so far, feeling more akin to the charms employed by feykind. Lydia snorted at the prospect of the All-Mother being a giant faerie of some sort. Still that could explain the longevity, she supposed. But what kind of giant is so well versed in magic? Giantkin were mostly soldiers, armorers or construction workers, making the All-Mother a kind of anomaly in that way. Lydia didn’t get further in her internal investigation, as she was plopped down into what seemed to be an enormous high chair. She looked down. Well…that certainly wasn’t there yesterday… “Alright, Ly-Ly. You hang tight while Mommy finishes making your breakfast, okay?” Yeah, fat chance… When the All-Mother turned around to mind the stove, Lydia tried to make a break for it, struggling against the confines of her proverbial prison. But it soon proved clear, the high-chair had her beat. “Fudging heck..” Lydia mimed, slumping in defeat. Instead, she observed the All-Mother mixing together whatever breakfast she had planned for her. The pleasant aroma of pancakes and bacon soon hit Lydia’s nose, causing her mouth to water unconsciously while her stomach made unflattering noises. Damn, that actually smells really good. Usually, her diet was comprised of whatever bread, fruits or snacks she could raid from her old mentor’s cupboard or the occasional delivery of junk food. Neither of them was big on cooking, seeing it as a waste of time.  Back at her parents’ estate, cooking was done by members of staff and, even then it had been focused on efficiency and nutrients, rather than how good it tasted. And perhaps that’s why Lydia was, on some level, looking forward to a home-cooked meal for once, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud. Dang, she’s doing it all by hand too. Figured she’d just wave her hand and let it make itself. Guess she just likes doing things the old-fashioned way. Soon, the All-Mother had served up a plate with a large stack of neatly cut, fluffy pancakes topped with bacon, and absolutely dripping in maple syrup.  Lydia looked around for any cutlery, her babyish predicament forgotten, but finding none. She looked quizzically at the giantess.  “Uhm, could a girl get a fork?” she asked, devoid of any etiquette pretense. The All-Mother had made it very clear that she cared nothing for it either way. “Just use your hands, silly,” the woman replied, as if the answer was most obvious. Lydia deadpanned, but conceded before she could start arguing, as her stomach groaned in displeasure once more. I’m just going to regain my strength. I need to eat if I want to get out of here…she repeated the mantra over and over in her head. Tearing off a piece of perfected syrupy pancake and ready to chow down, she was interrupted by the familiar sound of a camera. Looking up, the All-Mother’s face was buried in a Starsung. And what’s more, it was of the latest model. What. The. Fuck…  “Hey!” “Hmm?” “Stop that!” “...Why?” the giantess perked a smile behind the phone. “It’s embarrassing!” Lydia snapped. “Oh, Ly-Ly,” she smiled. “Mommy takes pictures of all of her babies. It’s not a big deal.” “Well it is to me,” Lydia said, with a scrunched up look. “Could you not?” The giantess sighed, phone vanishing in her hand without as much as an incantation, much to Lydia’s surprise. Dimensional Storage? “Fine, fine,” ‘Mommy’ said, actually relenting. “It’s not like I was going to post it on Hextagram or anything. Why is that almost all of my babies get so embarrassed by their pictures being taken…” The mention of Hextagram confused Lydia slightly, seeing as she hadn’t been able to connect to the leylines with her own sCryphone before, but also at the prospect of the All-Mother being so familiar with modern magitech. “Thank you,” Lydia said. “But!” the All-Mother snatched the piece of pancake from Lydia’s hand, causing a slight, unwilling whine to escape her. “In exchange, Mommy’s going to help you eat your num-nums.” “Of course you will,” Lydia snarked, but before she could react, the giantess had sprung into action. “Heeeere comes the broom~Whoosh!” The syrupy bit of pancake hit Lydia’s tongue, exploding in a multitude of sweet flavours, almost causing her eyes to roll back in her head. She ate greedily and before she knew it, had already opened her mouth to accept another piece. “Mmm!” Lydia voiced loudly. “Oh, someone loves their num-nums!” The young witch had no retort. Simply keeping herself from fainting from sensory overload took all her concentration as she devoured the delectable meal. The bacon was wonderful as well, salty and crispy in just the right way to counteract the sweetness of the pancakes. In a matter of minutes, she had finished the large stack and slumped happily against the backrest of the high-chair, feeling full and giddy. “Good job, baby,” the All-Mother cheered. “I’ll get you a drink to wash all that goodness down with.” So good, Lydia thought in her daze. That was not a normal meal at all. She must’ve done something to it. In fact… She was slowly coming to her senses as the meal settled in her stomach, looking over a bowl of discarded egg shells on the kitchen counter. They looked curious. Pure white, but with flecks of golden patterns across them. What? Lydia racked her mind trying to come up with an answer for whatever animal they could come from. Beastology had never been her strongest point, however. “Uh, All-Mother?” “Mommy,” she replied, busy at the fridge. “What?” “If you need something, call me ‘Mommy’,” she said, pulling out a metal flask.  Ugh! “Fine, ‘Mommy’,” Lydia almost gagged. “What was in those pancakes?” “Just normal ingredients, baby.” The All-Mother looked back at her quizzically. “Why?” Lydia pointed over at the discarded egg-shells. “That does not look normal to me.” “Oh, Goldie wouldn’t like it if you said that to her face, honey,” she chided. “She takes really good care of herself and is very particular about which eggs Mommy can use for her babies.” “And who’s Goldie, exactly?” Lydia asked. “Mommy’s friend, sweetheart,” the giantess pointed towards the window. “She lives just outside.” What? I looked around before coming here. This cottage was the only thing in this glade!  Lydia looked over towards the window, seeing for the first time what appeared to be a garden and a few pens on the outside.  “No freaking way…” Displacement magic, it had to be. Yesterday, Lydia had walked around the cottage to make sure the All-Mother hadn’t been outside, before entering. There had been no signs of illusory magic or otherwise back then. Her thoughts were interrupted as the ancient witch put something down on the high-chair tray. Lydia looked at it, then at the giantess. It was a baby bottle, complete with a teat and seemingly full of milk. “What is that?” “That’s your baba, honey. Drink up!” “...No thank you.” “It wasn’t a request, Ly-Ly,” the giantess said, “you need it.” “I’m not thirsty,” Lydia lied. She could definitely use a drink, but a milk bottle was neither her receptacle nor beverage of choice.  “Hmm, I see,” the All-Mother said. “That’s too bad.” Phew… “Guess Mommy just has to—Oh heavens, what is that?!” she yelled, pointing behind Lydia. “What?” Lydia snapped her head around, “What is—mmph!”  The young woman’s lips snapped closed around the teat of the baby bottle, expressing some of the milk into process, dripping down on her tongue. Once again her world exploded in colours and flavours and she gave the bottle a tentative suck, rewarded with more cool milk. Oh no, it’s good… Lydia hated that she loved it so much, gulping down ounce after ounce, washing away her thirst as well as her shame, until she sucked on dry air. “There we go,” the giantess cooed. “See? Mommy knows what you need.” Lydia stared daggers at the ancient being. If the All-Mother picked up on her anger, she didn’t let it show. “Alright, up we go,” she said, freeing the young girl from the highchair, before rubbing her back and patting her gently on the bum. Oh gods, is she doing what I think— “Uuuuurp!” Lydia let out, strands of spit hitting the giantess shoulder. “There, all better.” “...I hate you.” “No you don’t, babygirl,” she assured. ----- After the humiliating treatment, Lydia had finally been let down from the high chair, stating an interest in seeing the outside of the cottage, after fluttering her eyes and debasing herself by sweetly asking Mommy dearest for permission. “Alright, sweetie. You can play outside while Mommy cleans up,” she said, motioning towards the window, where a door had now materialized from thin air. “But no wandering off, got it?” In her excitement, Lydia didn’t even question where the door had appeared from, quickly heading over. “Yes, yes.” “Yes, what?” “...Yes, ‘Mommy’,” Lydia stopped and gritted her teeth. “Good girl, go play.” Lydia toddled outside, as fast as she could carrying that extra weight in her stomach, into the lush garden. Potted plants, herbs in various colours with leaves that shifted slightly whenever she looked away, berry bushes of unknown origin and large vegetable grew in neat rows all over. Before she could take it all in, she scurried over to the nearby pens. Not to observe whatever animal that lived there, but for respite from the All-Mother. Also to try and get that ridiculous outfit off of her. The young witch looked over the blue onesie, tugging at the snaps in the back. They didn’t budge. She felt around on the inside, trying to tear at the tabs. They did not yield. Whatever held it all together, Lydia didn't stand a chance. Lydia slumped down onto ground, dirtying the onesie in the process. There was no use. Without her spellcasting, she’d never manage to free herself from the All-Mother. What had that cube done to her? How could it have messed her up so badly, if it didn’t radiate any Malice? Of course, she discarded the notion that the All-Mother was an evil entity at least. Still, if the cube isn’t demonic in origin I’m not sure how it could separate me from my mana like this… “Seems like you’re in a bit of a bind there,” a calm voice called out from behind. Lydia sighed. “You could say that again.” “First day jitters, I take it?” She scrunched up her face. “I wouldn’t call it—Wait who’s there?” “I am!” the voice cheered. The young witch turned around, only to be met with a face full of feathers. Before her stood a massive, plump goose with gentle blue eyes. Its plumage was pure white with traces of golden flecks on the end. “Greetings, young one!” the giant goose said. “My name is Goldie, what’s yours?” The giant fowl spoke with a surprisingly deep voice for a goose, with an almost aristocratic cadence that made every word sound carefully thought out. “Urm, Lydia?” “Well met, Lydia!” “Oh, eh, likewise…Goldie.” “You seem surprised, young Lydia. Pray tell what is on your mind?” “I, uh, haven’t met any talking geese before, so I guess I’m just stumped for words.” And the fact that I’m piecing together where those eggs came from, she thought, noticing a few shapes underneath the big goose. “Pssha, was that all? Well never you mind. You will find I am as good as any other conversationalist, I am sure.” “...Okay?” “But the nature of talking fowl wasn’t the reason you are down in the proverbial dumps, am I correct in assuming as much?” “Very perceptive, Goldie,” Lydia chuckled. The prospect of a verbose goose tickled her enough to lower her defenses slightly. “I suppose I’m simply overwhelmed by coming here.” “I see,” Goldie the goose nodded sagely, resting her head close to the young witch, urging her to continue. “It’s not at all what I expected,” Lydia admitted, motioning towards her attire, “this…this isn’t normal. Why bother with this treatment?” “Hmm, but what is normality exactly?” The gentle goose said, philosophically, clearing its throat. “While it’s not up to me to question the Smiling Lady’s intentions, she does seem to think it is needed for her apprentices development during their stay.” The Smiling Lady… That was a new moniker that Lydia couldn’t place. If it was perhaps pertaining to myth, she was sorely out of luck. Her parents had been very strict about what electives she chose during the Academy, ancient mythology being one of them. “The explanation could, of course, be much simpler.” “Such as?” “She utterly enjoys it.” Yeah, figured that one out myself… “This has been going on for quite some time, hasn’t it?” Lydia sighed, shaking her head in disbelief. “Over the centuries I’ve come to know the Smiling Lady, every apprentice of hers has faced the same tribulations,” Goldie admitted. “But, every one of them has sworn me to secrecy, so I cannot go into the details, unfortunately.” That’s…ominous? “Well, except Millie, I suppose,” Goldie said, and leaned in to whisper, “but between you and me, that girl is a few feathers short of a flock, if you catch my drift.” Again with this Millie person… “Well, I haven’t met her yet,” Lydia said. “Oh, you will, you will,” Goldie chuckled. “...Okay then. Think you could tell me anything about the All-Mother, er, Smiling Lady?” “Alas, I’ve been asked not to divulge any information. She’s a bit…sensitive about her status, let’s just say that,” Goldie said. Shit… “But one thing I can say,” Goldie leaned in conspiratorily, Lydia following suit in anticipation. “Yes?” “She truly loves all her babies,” Goldie chuckled. “...Great,” Lydia deadpanned, standing up. “Well, this was a…nice conversation, Goldie, but I think I’m going to…clear the air a bit.” “Ah, yes,” the goose said conspiratorily, motioning over with a wing to a grey garden shed. “over there, in the back, is a good place to relieve oneself in secrecy. I wouldn’t know however.” “NotremotelywhatImeantGoodbye!” Lydia took off, blushing deeply. ‘ “Until next time, young Lydia!” Goldie said after her, resuming her nesting. The young witch toddled further away from the garden, almost ending up at the edge of the forest, panting heavily, weighted down by her breakfast. Huh, I’m almost at the forest…and the All-Mother hasn’t noticed me gone yet?  “Is she…not stopping me?” she said out loud, taking another step towards the trees. “Why would she not—!” *Thunk* Lydia’s nose smacked into something invisible. Already tender from yesterday, she rubbed it gently to relieve the pain. “Ahh, Cyric be daa…Oh?” Before she could finish a swear that wouldn’t come, Lydia noticed the strange curiosity before her. Gently, she pressed her palm against its surface. It distorted faintly at her touch, carrying a warm, tingling sensation through her arm. A magic barrier? And why can I… She reached into her reserve of mana, feeling she could guide it somehow to flow into the transparent barrier. Curiosity got the better of her and she allowed herself to channel the raw arcane energy inside her, acting as a conduit. Her mind’s eye opened onto an impossible abyss. Countless threads stretched through the darkness, each one glowing with it own faint hue. Thin as spider-silk, they pulled at her, as if vying for her attention, disappearing into distances Lydia couldn’t comprehend. She let go of the barrier and gasped. Fascinating! The cube back in the nursery is nothing compared to this. Wait… Hesitation plagued her mind, as if she anticipated something to go wrong with her body, just like it had with the cube. What would happened if she continued to interact with it? Would trying to understand it somehow break her mind? Oh but it was so hard not to dive into it again, to try and understand all of its machinations. Her hand unconsciously reached for the barrier again, but stopped abruptly. The air near the forest had grown stagnant. Lydia could hear something breathing, something large at the other side of the barrier. Great black fur. Jagged teeth dripping with dark saliva from a massive maw. Golden eyes gleaming with Malice from within the dark thicket, observing her every movement. Mommy…help.