The dimension is such an insane dystopia that the little ones just have a right to know how to defend themselves. And I'm glad that Hellcats, for example, are protected from adoption and regression by federal law.

Chapter 3 – The New Routine Oliver gradually came to awareness to the sound of tweeting birds and the warmth of the sun on his face. It was the best sleep he could ever remember having. He basked in the stillness of the morning and the pleasant warmth of his soft, dry sheets. Dry. His sheets were dry! His eyes shot open and he leapt out of bed. He was still inspecting his sheets to confirm when Abigail appeared behind him, apparently curious what all the ruckus was about. “I’m dry!” he exclaimed gleefully before realising how childish that would sound. “Great job sweetie. Let’s see how your pull-up did.” Abigail suggested, hooking two fingers to the waistband of his pyjama pants and lowering them to his knees. His pull-up. Oliver deflated. In his post-sleep haze, he had completely forgotten the events of the previous day. The training pant hung heavily between his legs with Mickey Mouse looking considerably yellower and more dejected than last he had made their acquaintance. “Aw, well looks like they just about held up, no more wet sheets for you baby.” Abigail said in a conciliatory tone. Oliver said nothing as Abigail finished undressing him and sent him to shower. Once again he stood under the streaming hot water trying to forget about everything. He realised that this would no-doubt make the pul-ups a permanent addition to his nighttime routine, the second huge backslide in his life in nearly as few days. He sighed loudly as he shut off the water. Again a juvenile outfit had been preordained for the day, and again he didn’t muster the will to object. Breakfast came and went without incident and Oliver set about deciding what to do with his day. It wasn’t as if he didn’t want to do anything but watch TV and play video games, but the kind of interests he expected to fill the void playing with toys had left hadn’t appeared in his life yet. Sports were out of the question. He could thank his diminutive frame for that. Any number of potential opponents could run rings around him, sometimes literally. This train of thought ran headfirst into one going perpendicular: Where was his game controller, anyway? He searched the room exhaustively and was about to enlist help when Abigail materialized with an expression of intent hauling a large, colorful, plastic bucket, she half-dropped, half-placed on the floor in a manner that attested its heft. It landed producing a characteristic noisy rattle that immediately divulged its contents. “I think you’ve been overdoing it a little with the video games lately. How about you play with your Lego instead?” Lego? He hadn’t wanted to play with Lego in... well, okay, maybe it wasn’t all that long but that wasn’t the point! This was Summer vacation! It was supposed to be a glorious canvas of unimpeded liberty stretching out to an alien land called September that was so staggeringly far away it was utterly inconsequential. That was, at any rate, something along the lines of the argument he was gearing up to make before his second train of thought of the morning on his poorly run cognitive railway was derailed Abigail’s next sentence like a penny on the tracks. “I know you know I’m right. No need to fight me on it.” she said before pulling him in for a quick hug and kissing the top of his head, adroitly ending the argument before it even started. “I’ll be in the office. Call if you need anything.” And with that he was left alone with his thoughts, his Lego, and no game controller. Which didn’t deter a futile 20-minute search that ended with him slumping on the couch and throwing his head against the cushions in defeat. He sat momentarily before the glint of a glossy piece of red plastic caught his interest and he picked it up to examine it. It was one of the rarer pieces with unusual geometry that had always held a special place for him. He picked up a second piece and experimentally joined them together, and then a third. Before he knew it hours had passed. “Having fun?” Abigail asked leaning against the door frame, using the question as much to announce her presence. “Yeah!” Oliver exclaimed holding up a half completed spaceship aloft. “I added a second rotating cockpit for a gunner and- I mean, yeah, it’s fine, I guess.” he said suddenly composing himself. “Okay, Mr. Grownup. I can see it’s very fine.” she grinned. “Now how about some lunch?” “Why don’t you try going potty before we eat?” she prompted, blocking his dash to the kitchen. “Ugh, mom! You don’t to have to remind me-” his rant was cut short when, probing for signals from his bladder, he discovered that in fact she had needed to remind him. He briskly made his way to the bathroom, consciously trying to look like it wasn’t urgent. He discovered when he got there that his underwear was already slightly damp. When had that happened? If he went upstairs to change now, it would raise suspicions. He finished his business and washed his hands. Lunch was sitting at the table accompanied by another plastic beaker of formula. He was drinking thirstily from it when his grip slipped and the contents spilled down his front. Abigail relieved him of his t-shirt and saw with dismay he had gotten it on his shorts as well. “Come on, let’s get you some fresh clothes.” she said as she marched him upstairs. She’d been nothing but patient and supportive in dealing with his various mishaps and yet he could feel it was wearing on her as she undressed him. “Sweetie, the formula didn’t soak through your shorts. Did you have a little accident?” she observed turning his underwear over in her hands. He could only looked down. His deception hadn’t last 10 minutes. “You need to tell me if this happens and get dry underwear. You’ll get a rash.” she explained as she retrieved a packet of baby wipes from the dresser drawer where she’d stashed his pull-ups. He didn’t even remember her buying them. “Let me do it!” he protested, blocking her with his hands. “I just want to make sure it’s done properly.” she intoned gently but firmly as she placed his hands by his hips and got to work. “Be back downstairs in 2 minutes” she said, laying out fresh clothes but mercifully leaving him to dress himself. He returned to the kitchen a few minutes later to see the table cleared except for a single sippy cup set at his place with Abigail sitting across from him purposefully. Oliver felt he had brought this upon himself, so he couldn’t summon his usual level of indignation. “Mom...” he pleaded. “Sweetheart, you need to finish your formula for it to work. It won’t do any good in your clothes or on the floor.” No further explanation was necessary. He resignedly slid into his chair and took the sippy cup to his lips. A few minutes later, he was released back to his Lego while Abigail returned to work. This set the stage for the days and weeks to follow. Each day he’d spend watching TV or playing, sometimes video games, but increasingly often some wholesome activity that had evidently been chosen for him, but not by him Each evening, a sippy cup of formula reliably set him on the path to sleep, Day by day, the routine was tweaked and refined here and there. Abigail started to insist that he got ready for bed in the mid evening with the sun still well in the sky, to mitigate the risk that he would fall asleep without a pull-up on. She took to warming his nighttime sippy cup and before long its warm, creamy contents became an indispensable comfort for Oliver and, to her mind an even more effective soporific. Oliver now found himself spending most evenings cuddled up to Abigail on the couch, sippy cup or thumb reliably in mouth. Every morning, he woke up in his bed even if that wasn’t where he fell asleep, with an even heavier pull-up than the night before. It wasn’t long before that fact reached its inevitable conclusion and he started to wake with dual moon-shaped leaks on his pyjamas. This lead to a policy of Abigail changing his pull up in his sleep before it leaked, which paradoxically lead to some dry mornings. On these mornings, Abigail would prepare breakfast before he showered. It wasn’t long until he was playing in his pyjamas up until lunch and feeling like he was beginning to spend more time in pull-ups than underwear. When he was in underwear, they were inevitably damp by the end of the day, an issue Abigail had not yet decided how to broach. One such day was interrupted by a phone call for Oliver from his friend, Jack Weaver. Oliver didn’t have many people he could count on as friends, but Jack was one of the good ones. “A sleepover?” Oliver repeated, mulling it over. He glanced briefly to Abigail has he might do if he were seeking approval, before shutting the idea down himself. “Uh, no thanks, I don’t think my mom will let me right now.” he fibbed.Abigail didn’t push it. She saw what was happening and her heart ached for him. She wanted him to have fun with his friends, but of course, she knew he wasn’t ready to risk a sleepover just yet. Still, he couldn’t stay cooped up inside like this. She could feel a plan starting to hatch and she reached for the phone.

What is black and white and crawls through the forets? ANSWER: A charred forest ranger? 😊

Just until you post the next chapter tomorrow. So I'm going to guess that at the same time Beth felt herself getting drenched from the drink the Amazon threw at her, she also heard the crunch of the Amazon's broken ankle from Carly kicking her ankle.  

Observing the newcomer from the shadows at the top of the stairs the woman watched as her prize took a flashlight from the small backpack she was carrying and made its way through to the living room. Knowing what that would mean she smiled, although the girl had no idea she had rolled the dice and made a decision that she would live to regret. Shortly the fun would begin, but before that she needed to check on Pippi. Effortlessly she glided her way to the right, past her own bedroom and then the partly open door to the nursery where Pippi had spent the first four years of her captivity. Against the far side of the room stood a polished oak rocking cradle, it was empty now but would not stay that way for long.  On her left was another bedroom, a sign on the door announcing the name of its occupant, Pippi. Quietly she opened the door then moved inside, the full moon shining through the flimsy drapes cast shadows across the floor. Three steps later a floorboard creaked, not once but twice, she had meant to fix it but never found the time. Now standing next to the large white crib she looked down, confined inside its bars was Pippi, the girl she had taken eight years ago and regressed in size but not mind. While Pippi’s petite body looked and behaved as if it belonged to a toddler, her adult mind was still intact. Even though she had fought the regression initially she had come to realise there was no escape, her body continuously betrayed her, she had been unable to even crawl at first but now she could toddle again. While she had no idea that four years had passed since her fateful night the one thing that she clearly understood was that the bulky cloth diapers pinned around her loins were not a decoration, there were a necessity.  Admiring what she had achieved the woman leant over the dropside rail of the crib, ran a hand over the soft baby plastic pants that covered the small girl’s cotton diapers and smiled. They were warm, the girl had not been in the crib for more than tow hours and her diapers were already wet. Pleased with the outcome she stood and walked back to the door. Pippi had been double diapered before being put in her crib for the night, the extra padding and the plastic baby pants would keep the crib sheets dry. Spending her night in wet diapers would ensure the girl was reminded that she was still not potty trained and that diapers were still a big part of her life. Now for her next move, the newcomer downstairs, looking across then hallway as she turned toward the stairs the empty cradle felt like a magnet drawing her in. Soon she thought, soon you will be filled with another baby and Momma will have two little girls in diapers to keep her busy.