Leaderboard

Life and Death Choices Made Casually The bell rang and Angela stood up gingerly to leave the classroom. She clenched her butt cheeks together and walked as quickly as she could toward the bathroom. She passed by the rows of lockers and didn’t even stop by for her books. Her stomach rumbled and she winced in pain as the cramp hit her. She squeezed her cheeks with all her might, but she knew she would make it to the girl’s bathroom. She had to. She was eighteen and a senior in high school. There was no way she could live down an accident. The cramp subsided and she continued her journey to the porcelain relief. It was just down the hall. She hurried as fast as she could, but she couldn’t run or even walk normally or she would poop--in her panties. Still, she persisted until she made it to the bathroom. The girl’s room was a mess at 1:30 in the afternoon. There were paper towels on the floor, lipstick on the mirrors, and she was sure she would find pee on the seats, but it didn’t matter. She was desperate. She groaned in disgust. All of the stalls were full. She stood in front of the row of stalls waiting. “Please hurry. I’m desperate.” Her voice sounded soft and alien to her. “Hold on a bit,” a girl called from one of the stalls. A girl flushed and exited a stall and Angela stepped toward it. Before she took a second step, she felt another cramp in her abdomen and she bent over slightly. That was all it took to make it the worst day of her life. The load she had been holding in Mrs. Miller’s class squeezed out in her panties. It was sudden, her accident. It wasn’t slow; it just came out and there was a lot of it. Her load was wet too, but solid enough that it met the resistance of her jeans and spread in the seat of her panties. She looked around and saw at least ten girls who were staring at her. One of them had her mouth open in surprise, but soon they would all know and then the whole school would make fun of her. She felt a blob of poop escape the leg bands of her panties and ride its slimy journey down the inside of her blue jeans to the floor. “She pooped her pants,” a girl said. “Hey everyone,” one of the girls yelled into the hallway. “Angela pooped her pants.” Angela wanted to say something. They had to be wrong. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. She heard a pattering noise and looked down. To add insult to injury she was peeing her pants as well. She could only stare as the wet patch on the front of her jeans grew. “I wish I could die,” she said. ### Bridget Addison cowered in fear in the passenger seat of her big rig. Eighteen wheels of power moved uncontrollably down the street. She was supposed to be the driver. She had the commercial driver’s license to prove it. She also had the hazardous materials and explosives endorsements that allowed her to haul the 9000 gallons of gasoline in the tank trailer behind her rig. It was supposed to be an easy job. She didn’t even have to leave the city. She just drove around from gas station to gas station refilling their stock. At five o’clock she would return to the oil depot and drive home in her own car. Today was different. As soon as she left the oil depot, she headed toward her first stop. It wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, but she had always felt safe. She had grown up here. In fact, the truck driving school where she got her license was in the same neighborhood. She was the only pretty thirty-two-year-old in the whole class. When she arrived at the first street light she had to stop. The armed gunman opened the driver’s side door and pushed her aside as he mounted the cab of her eighteen wheeler. “Sit quietly or you’re dead,” he said. He took the wheel and begin to drive east away from the city. It wasn’t worth dying over someone stealing gas. Bridget sat still in the passenger seat. Still the calculations came to her head. That was her talent. Gas was $2.53 a gallon for regular. With her combined load of super and medium grades as well, the fuel was worth $23,470. She made a little more than that in a year, but not much. It was still not worth her life. She pulled her knees up to her chin and stared at the gunman. The man drove in silence. Every so often he pointed the gun in her direction, but he still had to shift. Bridget needed both hands to drive. At lights and on straight roads she could reach for the radio or even take a cell phone call, but she generally kept one hand on the steering wheel and another on the shifter just in case. The highjacker had to shift and hold her at gun point as well as steer. She cringed with each metal on metal crunch as the rig clipped other cars. “Slow down,” she yelled. “You’ll get us both killed.” Sirens sounded in the distance and she knew it wouldn’t be too long until the police caught them and she would be safe, unless… The man pointed the gun at her again. “Shut up or you’ll get it,” he yelled. …unless he planned to hold her as a hostage. She shivered. She just wanted to get home to her apartment and forget about today. The gunman turned a right and Bridget saw the trailer take out a fire hydrant as the rear of the trailer hopped the curb. Bridget felt the whole rig shake and she worried that her cargo might ignite. A full load would sure be hazardous. He turned left again, but it was less violent. “Why’d you turn here?” she asked. “This road only goes to the school.” The gunman turned off into the grass and drove toward the Arthur Miller Elementary School building. She realized what he was doing and knew she had to do something. She waited until he had to shift gears and then dove for the steering wheel. Riding her momentum, she turned the wheel to the left, hoping to turn the truck away from the school. The truck careened and jackknifed around and she was thrown free out the window of the semi. She lay on the ground stunned, the wind knocked out of her. If she could have taken a breath, she would have breathed a sigh of relief as she watched as the tanker missed the elementary school. Her relief was short lived as the tanker plowed into the building next to it: the middle school. She watched in horror as the gasoline exploded on impact. The screams of the students mixed with her own as she woke up in her sweaty jumpsuit. “Will you knock it off?” yelled the inmate in the cell next to hers. She looked at her surroundings. Bars, a steel toilet, the narrow cot in which she slept, and more bars. She had awakened to the same nightmare every day since the terrorist attack. “Today is the last day I wake up screaming,” she promised. The next time she went to sleep, she would never wake again. The terrorist who had tried to ram her truck into the elementary school was consumed in the explosion. The terrorist group had also claimed responsibility for the attack. No one had believed her that the gunman existed and today she would die because she couldn’t prove that he was the real killer. “If only I would have turned the wheel to the right,” she whispered. She knew if she did that, the elementary school would have been hit. She had twelve years to relive the attack over and over again. Every day she had second guessed herself as she sat in a prison cell. At least today she would be able to eat what she wanted. She knew a New York strip steak, a slice of apple pie with ice cream would be on its way to her today. She debated with herself on the ice cream. She didn’t dare eat dairy products because lactose intolerance would give her digestion problems, but she figured she may as well enjoy the ice cream because she wouldn’t be around long enough to need to worry about the after effects. She went to the sink in her cell and splash water on her face and returned to her cot to wait for her fate. ### The priest hadn’t been helpful. The food, on the other hand, was divine. She walked slowly down the hallway toward the waiting gurney. “Will you want the needle in your right arm or left,” an orderly dressed in white asked her. “Does it matter?” she asked. She hopped up on the gurney. This is really how things are going to end, she thought. The orderlies strapped her down to the gurney. A strap across her knees and chest and wrist and leg cuffs made any desire to fight impossible. She could have fought. She almost wished she did as they rolled her into the execution chamber, past the witnesses. The witnesses were some of the parents of the middle school children. Most had to watch the execution on a video monitor outside the prison since the number of witnesses were limited to twelve. Their eyes stared cold daggers into her as she lay helpless as the execution took an alcohol-soaked cotton swab and cleaned her arm. “Is that to prevent infection?” she asked. She smiled a bit, but no one else seemed to think it was funny. Gallows humor couldn’t hurt, could it? “Do you wish to make a statement?” the executioner asked. “I tried to stop him,” she began. “If only I’d turned the wheel to the left. No that wouldn’t have worked. Or if I fought him before he was going to hit a school…” She stopped talking when she realized she was only babbling. The executioner took the needle inserted it in her arm. At the same instant Angela Murphy said, “I wish I could die,” Bridget Addison said, “I wish I could live.” Both of them got their wish. ### Bridget almost stumbled. First she was lying horizontally and then she was standing. She looked around. She was in the middle of a bathroom surrounded by high school kids. Was this hell? It had to be and the students must have been what the children her truck had killed would have looked like when they got older. No, the math wasn’t right. Those students would be in their mid thirties now. “Angela pooped her pants. Angela pooped her pants,” the students chanted. Bridget’s legs felt warm and wet. She looked down. She had peed herself. She smelled a foul odor, felt a glob of poop rolling down her leg. She had pooped her pants. If she had pooped her pants, who was this Angela girl that did the same? A blonde girl walked into the bathroom. She looked at Bridget and her eyes traveled downward toward her crotch. She pushed through the crowd and took Bridget’s hand. “Stop making fun of her. You should be ashamed. Go to class.” She pulled Bridget out into the hall. The blonde girl was pretty, but just a tad chunky. A size eight or ten, Bridget thought. No, this is high school: a size seven or nine. She wore jeans and a long sleeved shirt. On top of the shirt she wore a t-shirt that said, “I heart dorks.” She wore the yuckiest brown glasses Bridget had ever seen. They had big eighties lenses like Bridget had worn in junior high. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you to the nurse’s office.” She pulled Bridget by the hand. She was in still shocked by what happened. One minute she was about to be executed and another minute she was standing in the middle of a high school having disgraced herself. Bridget felt the school nurse’s eyes glare at her. “You’re eighteen?” she asked. “Miss Grosstree wouldn’t let her go to the bathroom,” the blonde said. “She is very strict,” the nurse agreed. “We’ll have to call your mother to pick you up.” She turned toward her desk and picked up the phone. “What is your mom’s number?” the nurse asked. “Umm,” Bridget said. “It’s 555-8273,” the blonde said. The nurse dialed. “Angela, I got to get to class,” the blonde said. “I’ll call you tonight.” She turned and walked away. The nurse was already on the phone when Bridget looked away from the blonde. “Mrs. Murphy. You daughter had an accident. You need to come to school right away. No, she’s okay. She just soiled herself. I know she’s eighteen. No, it is not usual at that age. Just come and pick her up.” Bridget was confused. She wondered who Angela and Mrs. Murphy were. She had a sneaking suspicion, but she dared not speculate. She stood inside the nurse’s office flushed and embarrassed. She refused to think about how she had gone from the death chamber to a high school. ### Twenty minutes later a woman arrived. She looked to be in her early fifties. From the look on her face, Bridget thought she looked very angry. She walked straight toward Bridget. “Young lady, what do you have to say for yourself? How old are you? Bridget blushed. “Umm, I…” She wasn’t about to tell this woman she was a death row inmate. She hoped the age question was rhetorical. She was thirty when the attack happened and she spent the last twelve years on death row, but she wasn’t going to tell her age in front of this stranger. “I’m too old to be having accidents,” she said. She had to walk the walk of shame through the halls to the parking lot. She followed the woman outside toward the parking lot in silence. She kept her head down as she walked toward the car. As she walked she felt the poop slide around in her panties and against the inside of her leg. “How could you disgrace yourself so badly?” said the woman. “I could imagine a first grader having an accident, but you? You’re eighteen years old and a senior. She led Bridget to a maroon Taurus and opened the passenger side door. Bridget was about to get in, but the woman grabbed her by the arm. “Don’t sit down,” the woman said. She opened the back door. Bridget watched as the woman stripped the plastic off the dry cleaning laid in the back seat. She put the plastic on the passenger seat. “You can sit down now.” Bridget sat. It felt disgusting enough to have poop in her pants, but when she sat down it was worse. The poop was soft enough that it squeezed into empty spaces inside her panties. Some felt like it moved to the front of her panties. She hoped it didn’t go inside her. The woman got behind the wheel and they drove off. The only conversation was the woman berating the state of her underwear. Bridget just ignored her and looked out the window. When she caught her badly angled reflection in the mirror she froze. Her wavy red hair was now dark brown and straight. Her face was now had the glow of youth. It wasn’t her face. She put her hand to her face and the reflection did the same. This wasn’t even her body. She looked at the woman. Her colorations and looks were an older version of the reflection. “Mother?” “What?” the woman said. She didn’t know what to say. Was this how reincarnation worked? She didn’t think she was in Heaven or Hell. She didn’t know much about reincarnation, but she had thought reincarnated people start their new life at birth, not as an embarrassed teen in high school. “What, Angela?” the woman, her mother repeated. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sure you are,” her mother said. “You still are grounded. No TV and no computer beyond what you need for schoolwork, understand?” Oh joy, do I really have to repeat this horrible part of growing up too? she thought. “How long?” “For the rest of the week.” That wasn’t too bad. “It’s Wednesday, right?” “Yes,” her mother said and turned into a driveway. The house was a suburban two story house. So much for lucking out and being reincarnated to a rich family. Maybe her karma was wrong because of how she reacted during the attack. What if she could have turned the truck far enough to the right? Would have she have ended up in a rich family or at least made the transition with clean underwear? “Now straight to the bathroom,” her mother said. I hope she didn’t think I would sit around stinking like I am, she thought. She had to waddle a bit as the poop was stuck to her bottom. Worse, it was starting to cool. Her pee stained thighs felt as if they were freezing. Her mother led her to the bathroom and left her standing inside. “Don’t move. I’ll get a trash bag.” Bridget looked longingly at the bathtub, but she stood on the cold tiled floor until her new mother returned. “I think everything from the waist down is a loss.” She shook open the trash bag and set it opened on the floor. Bridget kicked off her shoes and stepped inside the trash bag. She looked at her mother, but shrugged and lowered her pants and panties down into the trash. She looked down at her poop-streaked legs and sighed. “Would you like me to help you clean up?” her mother asked. The woman might be her mother, but Bridget still felt like she was a stranger. “I can handle it, mother.” “Okay, I will lay some clothes on the sink for you.” She left. Bridget took toilet paper and tried to get the worse of the mess off her legs and bottom. She let the paper drop into the trash bag. The shower that followed made her feel somewhat clean again. The water washed away the smeared poop, the horrible smell that seeped into her skin, and the clammy feeling of cold pee, but it didn’t make her feel truly clean again. When she emerged from the shower, the disgusting trash bag was gone. Clean panties, jeans and a t-shirt lay on the counter. She dried off with a fluffy white towel and dressed into the new clothes. When she left the bathroom, her mother noticed right away. “I put your backpack on the bed up in your room. Work on your homework until I say you can come down.” “Yes, ma’am,” said Bridget. She walked up the stairs and into a hallway. She didn’t know which was her room, but she knew it was the one with the red backpack on the bed. She looked in all three bedrooms until she found the one that was hers. The room was smallish. It contained a twin bed, a writing desk with a Macbook on it and a large chest of drawers. A bookshelf stood by the window, filled with horrible romance novels. Bridget shuttered at the sight of them. The room was overly neat. That told her that information about herself would be easy to find or not there at all. The red Jansport on the bed showed the most promise of having the information she sought. She unzipped the backpack and dumped the contents onto the bed: five spiral notebooks, a physics textbook, a Pre-Calculus book, and an English book lay on her bed. She opened the small pocket on the backpack and took out a cell phone, a little brown leather calendar, and a romance novel with a bookmark in it. She picked up the little leather book and opened it to the first page. Inside in very neat handwriting was her class schedule. She groaned when she read the list of classes. Physics AP, Pre-Calculus AP, English AP, Fundamentals of Computers, Spanish II, and Study Hall. At least she had a study hall. She had taken German in high school, but she didn’t remember much. The only Spanish she knew was from coworkers. She hoped it would be enough. She would have to seriously study to catch up. She’d also taken Physics and Calculus during the two years of college before she ran out of money and had to take that job at the department store. If her father wouldn’t have fronted her the money for truck driving school, she would still be working retail. During the past twelve years, she wished she would have stayed in retail. Her truck would not have been hijacked and her father would not have died of a heart attack the day she was arrested. She opened the calendar to the current date. Every date had the date each homework assignment was due. Her new life had been incredibly organized. She started on the pre-calc assignment. It took her over two hours to do. There were at least twenty-five complex problems and she had to read the text portion of the chapter and consult her notes to even know what to do. All the problems were even numbered problems, so she couldn’t look for answers in the back of the book. She had to solve the odd problems anyway so she would know she was doing the problems correctly. Physics was different. She thought physics would be hard, but they were studying electricity. The problems were just resistance or capacitance of circuits, and her father was an electrician. She knew the theory. It was simple to calculate those problems. That took another hour. She was about to open up her English book, when her mother opened her bedroom door. “You can come down for supper,” she said. “How is your homework coming?” “Two subjects down.” “Come down and eat.” Bridget went down the stairs. ### The table was set for two. A TV dinner was set at each place. “I didn’t make a big production of dinner because your father is not here tonight.” “Where is he?” Bridget asked. “Don’t you remember? He is one of the witnesses to the execution.” She frowned. “I wanted to be there to see that horrible woman put to death myself, but there were so many parents who lost a child at that school.” Bridget froze. Was she talking about her. “The woman who couldn’t stop the terrorist from…” “That woman was the terrorist, and you were in kindergarten then. Your poor big sister died because of that wicked woman.” Bridget remembered when the joy that the tanker missed the elementary school turned to horror as she watched it veer into the middle school instead. During the twelve years of second guessing her brief struggle with the terrorist, she relived every scenario in her mind and still no matter what children died and she couldn’t go back and fix it anyway. At least she had not been put to death. By Fates she ended up in a young body. She smiled when she thought of the chaos that was probably ensuing due to her disappearance from the gurney. The timing was none too soon; needle had almost gone into her vein. She dug her fork into the food and tried to take a bite. Her lasagna, cooked with all the finesse of a microwave, seemed a bit more satisfying. Her mother looked at her watch. “We’re missing the News.” She picked up the remote and aimed it at the TV. “I’ll let you watch this even though I grounded you from the TV, but Angela,” her mother said, “No other TV until you are ungrounded.” “Yes, ma’am,” Bridget said. She felt excitement. She was going to relish hearing the news of her magical escape. She could barely eat her meal as she impatiently waited for the weatherman to stop droning on about cumulus clouds. “In the capital today, the terrorist Bridget Addison was set to be executed.” The TV screen showed protesters out protesting the death penalty. Bridget scowled at them. She hated death penalty protesters in spite of the fact that the death penalty had made a mistake in her case. She looked back at the screen. “Two hundred forty children died when Bridget Addison rammed a tanker truck into a middle school.” The screen showed another group of people holding signs. One said, “Burn, Bridget, burn.” “I wish we could strap her to a tanker and light her up,” said a man when a reporter held a microphone up to her face. Just wait, thought Bridget, until they announce my escape. “At 1:32 PM,” the news announcer continued, “Bridget Addison was given lethal injection. She jokingly asked if the alcohol on her arm was to prevent infection, and then made a rambling statement. When she finished, she whispered something to the executioner, and lay back as the needle entered her arm. She then screamed for her father, and was pronounced dead at 1:36 PM” It couldn’t have happened like that. She didn’t die. She was sitting right here watching it on TV. Sure she had another body, but it was a newly created life she was starting anew. Wasn’t it? What if it wasn’t a great escape, but she just traded bodies with Angela Murphy? That girl was innocent of everything, but if their bodies were switched… “Oh God, Oh God,” she said. She had another life on her conscious now. She felt hot as the blood rushed to her face. Her whole body felt numb and then her thighs felt warm. A pattering sound came from beneath her chair, but she couldn’t investigate it until the news story ended. “They killed her,” she said. She finally managed to look down and just stared at her lap as she finished peeing her pants. “Angela Mae Murphy,” said her mother. No, it was Angela’s mother. She was just a cuckoo egg left behind to devour the woman’s children. She was a pretender. “Angela, you’re peeing your pants.” “I’m so sorry,” she said. She forced herself to look in the woman’s eyes, “I’m truly sorry for everything.” The lady looked at her with sad eyes. “Go to your room and change.” The woman sighed. “What am I going to do with you, Angela?” Bridget got up from the table and went to the upstairs bathroom. She undressed from the waist down and threw her wet things in the hamper. She walked bare-bottomed to her room and got dressed into some clean clothes. She heard an annoying tune. Her phone sat on top of her bed where she had dumped everything out and a light on it was flashing. She picked it up. “Hello?” “Are you okay?” the voice asked. Bridget looked at the display on the phone. “Lia?” “Yeah, it’s me. Are you all right? I felt bad leaving you in the nurses office, but I had to go to class. The whole school is talking about your accident.” She’s the blonde girl with the glasses, Bridget thought. “I was afraid of that? Do you think they will make fun of me for the rest of time, or did I just lose temporary coolness points?” “Angela, we are both in AP courses and we are in the top ten percent of the class. We never had coolness points.” “Oh,” she said disappointed, “Any other bad news?” “Umm, yes,” said Lia, “but I can’t tell you because it will make you cry.” “Go ahead,” Bridget said. “It’s about Evan Fiscus.” She had no clue who the guy was, but the way Lia was going on, she probably should know. “Is this news going to change any of my plans?” “Yes. He is being a bastard about your accident. He told me to tell you he won’t take you to prom anymore. He asked that ho Julia Grass instead. I’m so sorry, Angela.” “Oh, darn,” Bridget said. She really didn’t care about Angela’s boyfriend and it was just as well. It was bad enough replacing a daughter that was executed in her place. A complex relationship was just too much. “You’re taking this well,” Lia said. “I hope you’re not getting depression. If you’re sad you can talk to me.” “It’s nothing,” I said. “I just had a really bad day. I actually forgot how to speak Spanish.” “What? You’re the best Spanish student in the class. Just re-read the conversation over and over. We have until Monday to get it down. We can practice this weekend.” “Well I suppose you called me about homework. I finished Pre-Calculus and Physics.” “In English, just read the last three chapters of Brave New World. Miss Crampton is going to have us compare 1984 to Brave New World in an essay we have to write. That’s not due until next week. In Spanish: just work on our conversation. You wrote the whole thing in your notebook. You know this backward and forward.” “Okay, so I just memorize my part and we read it together like in a play?” I ask. “Yes. Are you sure you are all right. You don’t sound like yourself.” “I’m okay,” I said. “I’m so grounded though.” “For how long?” “Friday.” “This fundamentals of computers class: I don’t have the book at home with me. What do we have to do in there?” “You’re usually the organized one. The PowerPoint thing is due Friday.” “The power what?” she asked. Oh God, I am so screwed, she thought. “Your PowerPoint Presentation.” “Oh,” she said, “PowerPoint.” The Internet really took off while she was in prison. She had limited access to computers, but she could get magazines and read about them. She had had plenty of time to read. “You’re acting a little weird.” “Sorry, I am really drained because I had the worst day of my life today.” “Well I will let you go. I will see you on the bus.” “Bye,” Bridget said and closed the phone. Bridget opened up the spiral notebook labeled Spanish and flipped to the last marked page. Each line had neatly written gibberish following the name Angela or Lia. She flipped back until there was a heading. The conversation was three pages long. “Tomorrow, get the pronunciation of every word,” she said to herself. She pulled out her book for English class and read 1984 halfway through. “Catch up on this too,” she said. She packed her backpack and got ready for class. She wasn’t sure she wanted to face high school again, but she knew it would be an improvement over yesterday. She changed into pajamas and went to the bathroom. She got ready the best she could. She refused to guess on the toothbrush, but there was a spare in the cupboard so she opened and used it. She made sure she peed before going to bed and left to her room. The bed, cleared of the backpack contents, was actually comfortable. It was a big improvement over a prison cot. She covered up and soon was asleep. ### The truck drove on through the early morning light. All eighteen wheels gleamed. The silver tank held its 9000 gallons. Each stop was written in red marker on her map. She knew which roads to take. The hijacker came again like every other night and the dead children invited her to relive her failure to save them again. Tonight was different. There was another dead child. She waved out the door of the elementary school, as the truck skidded into the middle school. “You’ll kill me to save yourself,” she accused. The dream usually ended when the truck crashed but tonight, it continued into death row. Tonight Angela Murphy lay on the gurney. She screamed and screamed as the needle entered her arm. “You killed me to save yourself.” Bridget sat upright in the bed. It was just a dream. She felt at the sweaty sheets, but they were wetter than usual. She lifted up the blankets and turned on the lamp. She had wet the bed. How many accidents was she going to have? First in the kitchen and now in bed. She didn’t count the one in the bathroom because technically that was Angela’s accident, not hers. She had nightmares almost every night for twelve years, and this was the first time it made her wet the bed. She hoped Angela didn’t have a weak bladder or anything. Bridget sighed and got out of her wet bed. “Usually I want to go back to sleep,” she said to herself. There was no way she wanted to lay on those cold clammy sheets. She peeled off her wet pajamas and sighed. She got some underwear out of the drawer and walked to the bathroom. The heat of the shower massaged her body and she hoped it also washed away the pissy smell from her skin. She hated stepping out of the shower, but she needed to get stuff done. After brushing her teeth and hair, she walked back to her bedroom. It was still early; the clock said 5:15. She opened her closet to select what to wear. She hated everything she saw. She was used to a whole different high school wardrobe. Everything here was different. All the jeans were low cut; all the tops were immodest. She eventually selected a baby doll t-shirt that had some chemistry quote on it and some jeans. She chose the non-faded jeans. If her bladder rebelled in school today, at least it wouldn’t show, she hoped. She put all her wet things in a clothes basket and wandered over to the bookshelf. She was not going to go back to sleep and risk wetting her clean outfit, so she scanned the shelf for something enjoyable to read. It wasn’t likely with the shelf of bad romance, but she found something useful on the lowest shelf: the East High School yearbook. It might make it easier to fit in if she knew with whom she was dealing with. She read the book for another hour. “Angela, time to wake up,” said her mother. She opened the door and looked at her. “Oh, you’re already dressed.” “Um, yes,” Bridget said. She blushed at the thought of the woman seeing the clothesbasket. “Angela,” her mother asked, “Why are your sheets not on your bed?” She looked over to the clothes basket. “Did you wet yourself again?” Bridget looked down at the floor and nodded. “Angela, what’s going on?” “Nothing.” There was no way Bridget could tell the truth. “I just had a bad dream and…” “Well get ready for breakfast.” She pointed to the sheets. “I suppose I am going to have to wash those before I pick your father up from the airport. I am sure that finding out his daughter has forgotten how to use the toilet is not the first thing he wants to learn when he comes home.” “Thank you,” Bridget said. She didn’t know what else to say. ### Breakfast was delicious. Her own mother either never bothered to make breakfast, or just poured Bridget a bowl of cereal. Angela’s mother made bacon and eggs, and served juice. The empty spot in Bridget’s stomach felt warm and full for the first time in years. Maybe living here wasn’t too bad. “Your bus is coming in about ten minutes,” her mother said. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the bathroom first?” Bridget was about to give an angry reply that she wasn’t a four-year-old, but given her accident record in the last day, she bit her lip and went to the bathroom before running out to catch the bus. As soon as the big yellow bus pulled to a stop in front of her, Bridget remembered why she hated that part of school. Riding the bus had been the most humiliating part of high school for her. She bit her lip and walked up the steps. The bus was crowded, dirty, and it smelled. A few people whispered and pointed when she got on. She knew they were talking about what happened the previous day. She guessed their whispers were, “She’s the girl who had an accident,” or “She’s the girl who peed her pants.” “Angela.” Bridget looked around. Lia was waving at her from halfway back. She stepped over the obstacles of backpacks in her path in the aisle until she got to Lia and took a seat next to her. “Hi,” she said. “Buenos dias,” Lia replied. She smiled. “What?” Bridget asked. “I was saying good morning to you, chica. Did you sleep okay?” “Oh yeah. Spanish.” Why didn’t Angela take German? Better yet, why didn’t she take Spanish in high school? She remembered. Jesse Stevens took German, so she had to take it to so she could get a date. It was a wasted effort. He took Allison Stewart to junior prom. She did well in German, so she never regretted the decision until now. If only she had taken Spanish, then she would not have to learn two years of language in less than a semester. “I got it taken care of. I found our conversation in my notes. We’ll go over it Friday night, right?” “That’s what I said,” Lia replied. Bridget twisted her hair around her finger and tried to think of something intelligent to say. “So are you seeing the new Star Trek movie?” Lia asked. “There’s a new Star Trek movie?” Bridget asked. “I guess that is a no,” her friend said, “You know those Harlequin romances will rot your brain.” “Will they really?” Bridget asked. “I guess not, but you are too smart to read those.” Lia smiled and looked out the window. “Hey. We’re at school.” The two girls filed off the bus and headed to their lockers. Bridget just followed Lia. How was she going to know which locker was hers? Bridget’s face turned red as the answer to her question became readily apparent. A baby diaper taped to her locker worked as well as a flashing beacon that pointed her way through the fog of students. Lia ripped the diaper off and tossed it in the trash. “How dare they,” she yelled. Bridget randomly turned the lock on her locker. It was no use anyway. She wouldn’t know the combination. “It won’t open,” she said. “Here, let me try.” Lia opened the locker up. “I guess I am just upset,” she answered. She pulled out her books she thought she would need for the morning and followed Lia to pre-Calculus. The class was boring. The teacher droned on and on like the science teacher on the Wonder Years. She whispered her thoughts to Lia. “What’s the Wonder Years?” “Just an old TV show.” She couldn’t make that mistake too many times. If she wasn’t grounded, she would have spent time watching TV to see what she should be making references to. The Ferris Bueller teacher kept rambling on. He probably didn’t even notice his white-board marker faded to illegible scribbles five minutes ago. No, that was just an epsilon and an alpha. The rest of the morning classes were uneventful. Physics was more lecture and in English they discussed Brave New World. Mrs. Miller took the opportunity to embarrass her by asking her to compare the life styles of John Savage and Henry Foster. She had no idea who the woman was talking about. “Um, I don’t know.” “Angela did you even read the book. Your paper on differences between themes of 1984 and Brave New World is due Monday. It is Thursday.” “I’m working on my paper,” she said. “Can you answer the question?” she asked Lia. “John was a savage and had a mother. Henry was born in a test tube. It was an insult if someone suggested you had a mother or a father.” “Good, Lia,” said Mrs. Miller. “At least someone knows the material.” After class, they went to lunch. Before going to the cafeteria Bridget stopped in the restroom just to make sure. “Wow, Miss Grosstree really laid into you about not knowing the material,” Lia said. “You usually know your stuff. What happened?” Bridget thought of a quick lie. “You know that book I have with Fabio on the cover?” she asked. “Well I wanted to know if Tilda and Henri got together. They hated each other at the beginning of the book and... Well, I read it instead of Brave New World. So did Henry really come from a test tube?” “Angela, are you getting senioritis? Even if you already got into college, you will still need to take your AP tests to get college credit for your basic courses.” “I will read it tonight,” she told her. She guessed it would be no sleep that night. She was going to finish 1984 and start on Brave New World if it killed her. *** When they stood in line in the cafeteria, Bridget knew she had been wrong. The bus was not the worse part of school it was the cafeteria food. She took her tray and sat down with Lia. Lia opened her milk and took a sip. “I didn’t know how far behind you were slipping.” “Oh relax,” Bridget said. She forked a bite of her spaghetti. “This tastes like prison food,” she said. “What would you know of prison food?” ask Lia. “Are you kidding? I’ve been here for what, almost twelve...” She stopped herself. “I don’t know, but I imagine cafeteria food and prison food are similar.” “Exactly you’re guessing.” “So.” “Don’t look. Evan Fiscus and his ho Julia Grass.” Bridget looked. Julia was blond and skinny. She wore a top that was so low, she had to keep pulling it up so her breasts wouldn’t spill out which was a remarkable feat considering her breasts were on the small side. Her blonde hair was long, but thin and she apparently was no stranger to peroxide. She did look pretty though, but Bridget knew that Angela’s body was better. She was more curvier and had a prettier face. Evan Fiscus was just a jock. He wore jeans and a letterman’s jacket. Since it was the off-season, he grew his hair out. It had that same look that made Bridget feel old. To her all the guys looked like they needed a haircut. “I just looked. So?” she asked Lia. “He’s coming this way.” The couple came over to their table. “Hi,” Evan said. “You’re a jerk Evan,” said Lia. “This is between me and Angela,” he said. He put one arm around Julia’s waist and pulled her close to him. “Let me guess,” said Bridget. “You came over to tell me you are breaking up with me and I am gross. Did I miss anything?” “Yes,” he said. “I am dating Julia now.” “You’re just a big jerk, Evan,” said Lia. “I’m the star quarterback, so I got to keep up my reputation for cool. I can’t have a girlfriend who goes around leaving a trail.” Lia stood up. “I’m going to hurt you, Evan Fiscus.” “Don’t worry about it, Lia,” Bridget said. “I am going to go to college in the fall. No one there will know about yesterday’s incident and we’ll have college boyfriends.” She looked at Julia who hadn’t said anything yet. She had looked up Julia Grass in the year book. “What are you Julia? A junior? Are you going to trust Evan to behave himself when you are a senior next year and he is a freshman football player in college surrounded by hot college girls? Maybe he’ll wait for you.” Julia turned bright red and looked at Evan. She turned back to Bridget. “At least I don’t pee and crap my pants, Angela.” She turned and walked away pulling Evan with her. “Wow, Angela,” said Lia. “You showed them. That was pretty harsh. I thought you would be crying.” “Well in this novel I was reading, Rafe Castillo wanted to be with Lily Black even though Lisa Fennimore said Rafe was the father of her baby. It turned out that Lisa was just lying and when they got married, it turned out that she hired an actor to be the priest so the wedding wasn’t valid any way. Rafe left town and had nothing to do with either of them.” “Angela, I swear you need to put away those romance novels.” Bridget didn’t have the heart to tell her that it was actually a plot to a soap opera her mother had watched in the nineties. She would never actually try to read the romance novels on Angela’s shelf. She needed to get some science fiction in there or something. “A girl’s got to read something,” she said. “Do you have anything better for me to read? I am planning on reading Brave New World tonight.” “Brave New World is a good start, but it is too academic as far as science fiction goes. Miss Grosstree said it was not science fiction because it is good, but she doesn’t want to admit science fiction is good.” “Who cares?” Bridget asked. “Time for class.” She stood up and picked up her tray. “Are you ready to finish your PowerPoint?” “Why not?” Bridget followed her friend to put away her tray and go to class. ### Computer class was something else indeed. It should have been simple, but so much had changed while she was in prison. Bridge just wanted to run out screaming. She had used PowerPoint a bit, but it wasn’t like she was used to. So much was different. It started out bad when she sat down and logged in. Fortunately Angela had written her username and password on the first page of her computer class notebook. No problem there. Her notes also said, “Finish PowerPoint,” not “do PowerPoint,” so it was saved somewhere. She looked at Lia to see where she got her disk from, but Lia was already working on her project. She opened her backpack and began looking for it. It was nowhere to be seen. She closed her backpack and put her keys and cell phone next her keyboard. “Lia, where did I save my PowerPoint?” “Probably on your thumb drive. It should be on your keychain.” Bridget picked up her keys and looked over at Lia’s computer. She saw how it worked and put the thumb drive in the USB port and fired up PowerPoint. It was surprisingly well done. The last two pages didn’t have the data listed. It was a simple matter to type in the last two slides from the outline in her notebook. She saved it and had it ready in no time. She spent the rest of class going over the slides and practicing the presentation she thought she would have to give. Spanish was film day, so they just watched Spanish language films. Bridgett was totally lost. At least there was no assignment given. “Remember, your conversations are due next week. I think Angela and Lia are first on Monday,” said Senorita Faust. Bridget groaned. At least it was only going to be like a play. She would have to work on the conversation with Lia that weekend. She worked on homework in study hall while Lia went to choir. She thanked God for small miracles that she didn’t have to go to choir. Bridget hated her voice and she hated the idea of trying to sing with Angela’s voice. Singing is a skill of the mind, not of the vocal cords and Bridget guessed she would be horrible at it even if Angela was good. She finished pre-calculus okay and had to only take Physics, Spanish, and 1984 and Brave New World home with her. She sat with Lia on the bus. When she arrived home, her bed was neatly made with fresh sheets. There was no pee smell at all. She lay on the bed and worked on homework and only came down for supper. She lay in bed and read 1984 to its completion. She was going to read through Brave New World, but she glanced at the clock and it showed that it was already 12:30. She turned off the light and went to sleep. There was no truck in her dreams. Instead it was rats. Lots of rats like the ones that made Winston love Big Brother instead of Julia. She woke up screaming. She felt around, but there were no rats. She was in her room. The sheets were sweaty and--she felt around her bottom and found a pee-soaked wet spot. “Uggg,” she said. She wet the bed again. A glance at her clock slowed her it was six. It was time to get ready anyway. Why was she wetting the bed? There was no truck dream with dying children. She got up and stripped her bed. She hoped Angela’s mother wasn’t too mad. “I swear, Angela,” said Bridget’s mother when she came to wake her up for school. “What is this? The second day in a row? I won’t mention the accidents you had Wednesday.” Bridget looked toward her mother. “I’ve been having bad dreams at night,” she said. She did not want to tell her about her regular bad dreams and she definitely did not want to tell her about her body jumping. “We will talk about this later. Get ready for school and come down for breakfast.” Her mother walked toward the door, but turned back to face Bridget. “We need to have a talk after school.” She left Bridget alone. Bridget went to the bathroom and peeled off her wet pajama bottoms. This had to stop. There was no way she could continue waking up wet every morning that she had been in Angela’s body. She was at a loss. The hot shower water rinsed the pee smell from her legs and crotch. Her hands rubbed the soap against her skin. It was much softer than her skin had been before when she was Bridget, but of course, Angela was much younger. Her hair was an actual color: a deep, rich brown that contrasted with her milky white skin. It was a lot better than the mousey redish-brown her old hair had been, plus it was straight and smooth. She wondered why Angela wasn’t more popular. She wasn’t in the in crowd because she was smart. Lia had confirmed that, and besides, her accident in school did not help matters. Lia said people would forget about it soon, but she doubted it. She still remembered the girl in seventh grade who wet her pants before giving a presentation in English class. She stepped out of the shower, toweled herself off and hurried to her room to dress. She chose a plaid skirt and a white top--the Catholic look would always be in--and headed down stairs for breakfast. She smelled bacon and eggs as she walked down the stairs to the kitchen. A man, sitting at the table looked up from a newspaper and greeted her, “Hey, pumpkin, did anything exciting happen when I was gone.” She looked at her mother who shook her head. “No, sir.” She pulled out her chair and sat down. “Why so formal today?” he asked. Bridget’s father had been in the military and expected her to say “yes, sir” and “no, sir”. This would take some getting used to. At least she was able to spread out the misery a bit. “Sorry, Dad.” Sooner or later someone would think her miscues were strange and they might find she wasn’t who they thought she was. “I missed you when I was away.” “I missed you too, Dad.” “Well, I better get to work.” Her father folded his newspaper and walked out the door. Bridget sat and ate her breakfast. “Now remember we need to have a talk when you get home,” her mother said. “It’s going to be about my punishment for wetting the bed. Isn’t it?” She wondered what her mother could have in store for her. Fear of punishment might make things worse. She knew that a punishment wouldn’t make the dreams go away. Nothing would. “It is about your bedwetting,” her mother said, “but don’t think of it as a punishment.” She picked up Bridget’s empty plate and took it to the dishwasher. “Now catch your bus before you get left behind.” Bridget hurried out to the bus ready to begin class ### Like yesterday, Bridget rode the bus sitting next to Lia. “I’m so glad it is Friday,” she said. “So are we going to work on Spanish after school?” She really needed help to get through her Spanish conversation. She had tried reading through it, but had trouble with her pronunciation. “Well, I thought we see Star Trek and then study.” Lia looked at her and smiled. “You can stay over at my house and then we can stay up as late as we need to get through the entire conversation.” “Lia, I don’t think it would be a good idea to stay at your house.” Lia looked hurt. “I thought you would protest going to see Star Trek. We could see a romantic comedy if you insist, then you can come over.” “Star Trek is fine,” Bridget said. She wanted to see it, but did not want to wait too long to get studying. She certainly didn’t want to spend the night and wake up wet at Lia’s house. “I just don’t want to sleep over.” “We have fun. We’re best friends,” Lia protested. “Why don’t you?” Bridget would have to tell Lia the real reason she couldn’t come over. Bridget sighed. “You can’t tell anyone what I am telling you.” She paused and felt her face burn red. “It’s like this. This is really embarrassing so you can’t tell anyone.” She waited until Lia nodded. “Ever since Wednesday I’ve...” She leaned in close to Lia and whispered, “I’ve been wetting the bed.” “You what!” Bridget had to clamp her hand over Lia’s mouth to keep her from blurting out. “Be quiet,” she whispered loudly. “I don’t need that fact spread over the school too.” “That’s why you don’t want to come over, isn’t it?” Lia leaned closer. “You don’t need to be embarrassed. I’m your friend.” “Me, too,” she said. “Thanks.” She still needed that Spanish study session or she would be lost on Monday. “If you want, you can come over to my house after the movie and study.” “That would be good,” said Lia. The bus arrived at school just in time. Calculus and Physics were uneventful. In the halls between classes other students would point and start whispering. She knew they were talking about her accident on Wednesday. (Rather Angela’s accident as she did not trade bodies with Angela until after she had the accident.) She made sure to use the bathroom before English class. It was Mrs. Miller who had not let Angela use the bathroom in the first place which caused the whole episode. She did not know whether to blame her for the extra life on her conscious or thank her that she was still alive albeit in a different body. She met with Lia before class. “Ready to face Grosstree?” she asked as they took their seats in the classroom. “Sure,” Bridget muttered. She had spent Calculus and Physics reading Brave New World under her desk. It was really a different type of totalitarianism than 1984. One was awful in the creepy jack-booted-thug sort of way, but the other was a overly friendly creepiness. By Ford, it was beyond screwed up. “It’s Mrs. Miller now, dork,” said a sarcastic voice behind them. “She’s only been married for two months already. Can’t you adjust?” Lia turned and stuck her tongue out. “Does it matter, Cindy?” Before Cindy could come up with a retort, class started. They started right away with Brave New World discussion. Bridget tried her best to stay out of the discussion. At least in this class she didn’t have to hide the book in her lap and look under her desk as she read it. She simply had it open on her desk and read through it. Easy as pie. She had to answer a question about what type of clone Lanina was. “Beta,” she said, “although Henry was an Alpha.” “I can see you finally read the book, Angela,” said her teacher. “Everyone, papers are due Monday at the beginning of class.” The bell rang. “Class dismissed.” Bridget and Lia got out of class quickly and went down to the cafeteria. “What joy do we have today?” Lia looked up at the menu board. “It says Frito pie. There should be some kind of true in advertising: chili poured over corn chips.” “I actually like that,” Bridget said. She pulled a plastic spork from the container and grabbed a tray of food. “Is this from Miss ‘It Tastes Like Prison Food?’” Lia took her own tray and they found a table together. “Even in prison Frito pie has to be good,” Bridget said. Sadly, it had been the only thing she looked forward to during her twelve years on death row. She couldn’t go to the weekly movies they played for the general population because of security. She could read or listen to the radio. She mainly read. “Whatever,” said Lia. She took a bite of her food. “About tonight,” Bridget asked, “when does the movie start?” “They’re showing it on a million screens, so there is one every half hour. I would like to go to an earlier showing so we can study earlier. How about just ride the bus to my house and we’ll drive to the theater. My brother is letting me drive his car.” “Um, I can’t then. I got to go home so my mother can chew me out for peeing the bed.” Bridget’s face reddened. “My dad got home and she was too busy to finish chewing me out.” “Oh he was at the execution of that horrible...” Bridget didn’t wait. She got up and ran from the table to the bathroom. She remembered the pattering pee falling beneath her chair on Wednesday and she didn’t want a repeat accident here. Fortunately she made it to the bathroom dry. She used the restroom and returned to the table. “Lia, please don’t talk about Bridget Addison in my presence again. Especially at school. It is nightmares about her that give me problems at night.” “What kind of...” Lia began. “Oh.” She looked at me with doe eyes. “I’m sorry.” The rest of lunch was spent in silence until the bell rang. It was frustrating Bridget to no end that she couldn’t keep the bed dry for one night since her metamorphosis. It was almost a relief when the bell rang and she could go to class. Fundamentals of Computers was next. She sat down at her place and logged into her machine. She still needed her notes to remember the password. She had logged in by the time Lia arrived at the place beside her. “You got all quiet on me at lunch,” said Lia. “Are you mad at me?” “No,” Bridget answered. “I was just thinking about stuff. Thanks for not bolting on me when I told you my secret.” “We’re friends. I wouldn’t bolt on you.” “Thanks.” “Besides,” said Lia. She opened the drawer under her computer and pulled out a gamepad. “I need you on my team for Friday LAN party. I hope you finished your PowerPoint.” Bridget wondered if you took turns playing or what. She hadn’t played video games in years. She had played Doom and Sim City, but that had been ages ago. Ms. Hardy, the computer teacher walked around the room. “Put your thumb drives in the basket if you are finished with your assignment.” She carried the basket around the class room. Lia threw her thumb drive into the basket and Bridget did the same. Some of the students started to work on their assignments instead of turning it in. The rest of the class pulled game controllers from the drawer beneath their computers and started to play games. Bridget started the same game as Lia. It looked like a shooting game, but a screen came up and asked what server she wanted to join. There was a list. “What server do I put?” she asked Lia. “Are you having memory problems, Angela?” Lia looked worried. “It seems that since Wednesday’s incident, you’ve asked questions that you should know and it’s really creeping me out.” Bridget froze. She could feel the blood drain from her face. Lia knew. “Umm,” she said while stalling for time. She forced herself to calm down. Lia couldn’t know the whole story. Jumping from body to body was crazy. It only happened in science fiction stories. Lia liked science fiction almost as much as she did, but Lia knew that Angela liked romance and she gave her a dig about reading too much romance. “I’ve been going through a lot of stress recently with graduation coming up, needing a new prom date, and Spanish. It’s everything at once.” She smiled. “Did you think I was a pod person?” “Pod person?” asked Lia. “Invasion of the Body Snatchers. And I thought you watched too much science fiction.” “We’re on server B2,” said Lia. Her face pinkened with embarrassment over my remark. “We’re Blue team,” she added when Bridget almost picked Red. It was a shooting game like Doom. There were no cheat codes like in Doom and the graphics were far better: no pixilation or anything. It was a lot more complicated. Her screen flashed red and her gun began to shake on the screen before her view shifted vertical to horizontal. The words, “Fragged you Accident Girl,” appeared on the screen. They did the same thing over and over until she got a handle on the controls and how the game worked. The next time they came around she shot them with her shotgun and ran across the screen to a more defensible position. She pulled out the sniper rifle and just killed Red Team players for the rest of the class period. In Spanish she had to pay attention. She was lost most of the class because the teacher taught it in Spanish. If only the teacher taught German instead. She could ace that, or at least relearn that. The Spanish teacher asked Lia something and she nodded and said, “Si.” Then she asked Bridget the same thing. She took a fifty-fifty chance and said, “Si.” The teacher seemed pleased by her remark. “Everyone, conversations are due next week. Angela and Lia volunteered to go first, so they get five bonus points. We will have a test next Friday. You should be able to handle it easily. It is on chapter eighteen in your book.” The bell rang and Bridget hurried to study hall. She got the pre-Calculus done fairly quickly and was about to pull Brave New World out to read, but the bell rang. She hurried to the bus. At least she had the weekend to get caught up. She hoped she could make it through Spanish and graduate. ### On the bus ride home, Lia seemed excited. She chattered constantly about what she heard on the Internet about Star Trek and how when the new Spock did a mind meld, he gave a whole new meaning to the term “my mind to your mind.” “I don’t get it,” said Bridget. “Because Zachary Quinto plays Siler on Heroes.” She paused to see if I recognized what she was talking about. “And Siler eats peoples’ brains.” “Ick,” said Bridget. “I don’t think I want to watch Heroes.” “Don’t worry,” said Lia, “I won’t watch it anymore after this season. I’ll pick you up in an hour,” she said. The bus stopped in front of Angela’s house. Bridget hadn’t even noticed. She got off the bus and went into the house to have the talk with her mother. ### “How was school, Angela?” asked her mother. “Fine,” she answered. “Sit down and let’s talk.” Bridget sat down on the couch and her mother sat beside her. “You wet the bed two nights in a row and on Wednesday you not only had an accident in school, but you had another one at the dinner table. I’m worried about you.” “I...,” Bridget started to say, but stopped. She didn’t know what to say at all. She was going to be grounded, she knew it and then she would do horrible in Spanish and maybe not get into college. She hoped she could do well if she failed the conversation assignment. She bit her lip and looked at her mother. “How long am I grounded for?” she asked. “I’m not punishing you. I am sure you didn’t mean to have accidents, but I am getting tired of washing your sheets every morning. Just because I work at home doesn’t mean I have time to deal with housework. I have deadlines you know.” “All right, I will try not to wet the bed,” said Bridget. She knew she would anyway. “I think maybe you should wear protection to bed,” her mother said. “I bought you something to wear to protect your sheets.” “What do you mean?” asked Bridget. “Come on up to your room.” Her mother led the way to Bridget’s bedroom. On her bed was a package of Depends. “There is no way I am going to wear diapers,” said Bridget. “I thought you said you wouldn’t punish me.” “It’s just for night. No one will ever know. You don’t have to wake up in wet sheets anymore.” “I can’t. Lia is going to spend the night. I don’t want her to see me in diapers.” “I’ll put them in your closet then.” Her mother carried the bag of diapers to Angela’s closet. “I just thought they would be more comfortable than wet pajamas. We can try them out tomorrow night. Just try them one night and see if you like them.” “I’ll think about them,” said Bridget. She did not want to wear diapers. Even the old people diapers her mother picked out would make her feel babyish. When her mother left, she went to her closet to pick an outfit for the movie. “Jeans and a math shirt would work. Her shirt said, “The meaning of life.” It had a sigma notation equation that worked out to forty-two. She smiled. At least Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy was still popular among other students. The doorbell rung, which meant Lia had arrived. Bridget hurried down to meet her. ### “The movie was really good,” said Bridget as the two girls walked out of the theater. She was surprised that even though they stepped away from cannon, they managed to do it without pissing off the fans, herself included. “I liked it too,” said Lia, “but now I really have to pee. I wish I didn’t drink all that soda.” “I drank as much soda as you and I got to go too,” said Bridget. They finally got out of the hallway and then saw the huge line for the bathroom. Bridget didn’t have to go that bad. None of her accidents were from having to hold it too long, except maybe the first one. They were all from nightmares or the surprise of finding that the real Angela died in her place. Lia, however, was wiggling and crossing her legs. “Lia, want to get a slice of pie at Village Inn? We can walk across the parking lot and use the bathroom there before we even get halfway through this line.” “Good idea,” she said. Bridget led the way out of the theater. She resisted the urge to stop at every movie poster and see what would be playing next. The idea of seeing another movie intrigued her. She moved on. Outside the theater, drivers sat in parked cars waiting for people. Others were standing around talking on cell phone arranging rides or regrouping with friends when they were separated in the crowd. A middle-aged man in jeans and a t-shirt walked toward the theater. He kept his salt and pepper hair trimmed close, almost like a crew cut. His gray eyes pierced through her; they felt cold and there was not a hint of compassion in them. She recognized the eyes. She dreamed of a younger version of this man every night when he hijacked her truck and ran it into the school. The owl tattoos on his arm confirmed her suspicion. This man was the hijacker. She felt numb. What could she do? Would anyone even believe her? She felt hot and moist and... “Angela, Angela, Angela!” Lia hit her on the shoulder to get her attention. “Angela, you’re wetting yourself.” Bridget looked down. Her jeans were soaked between her legs. She stood in a warm puddle, and she was the last one to realize it. The worse thing was it was almost summer, so it was still light enough that it was obvious that she had soaked her jeans. People around her were staring or whispering to one another. Lia’s announcement didn’t help matters; instead it called attention to her. Evan Fiscus and Julia Grass walked up. “It’s your pee-baby ex-girlfriend, Evan,” Julia said with a grin. Evan’s was more shocked than anything else. “What is wrong with you, Angela? Having accidents?” He shook his head and walked away with the giggling Julia. Bridget looked back at the man with the gray eyes and the tattoos. He had a few friends with him and they were walking back to the parking lot. Lia dragged her in the same direction and they headed toward her brother’s car. “What happened?” she asked. “I didn’t think you had to go that bad.” She stopped and crossed her legs and then started toward her car. “I can’t let you sit in the car either. My brother has cloth seats and he will never let me use the car again if I bring it back pee stained.” Bridget started crying. These accidents were ruining her new life. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “It’s okay,” said Lia. “I am going to end up like you if I don’t find a bathroom soon,” she said. Bridget dug in her purse for a twenty. “Get us a whole French silk pie when you go in there.” She needed comfort food after tonight’s experience. What would her mother say when she walked in the house like this? “I can’t believe you still want pie,” said Lia, as she walked away from the car. She was shaking her head. While Lia was gone, Bridget looked around. The terrorist and his friends got into a Prius with Washington plates. The girl was young looking, maybe nineteen or twenty. She wore a greenie shirt that said “Go Veg!” on it. The man with her was in his mid-twenties. He wore regular clothes. She watched as the Prius drove away. She didn’t know whether to be relieved they were gone, or worried about what they were about to do. She shivered. Her pee-drenched jeans were beginning to cool and the wet clammy fabric clung to her. People driving by slowed and stared at her. She covered her wet crotch with her hand, but it only rubbed the fabric of her panties against her privates. She blushed and held her hand further in front of her. She knew she would need to explore this feeling later, but now she had more reasons to want to change into dry pants. She thought of the past accidents and thought about what triggered them. They occurred whenever she was alarmed and scared about something to do with the attack. Last night’s bed wetting was the exception, so maybe it was an anomaly or maybe she was just off about the whole accident thing to begin with. She did know she had no way to stop them or even predict them. She thought of the bag of Depends on the floor of her closet. A tear ran down her cheek when she realized what she would have to do. Lia came out of the restaurant about fifteen minutes later. “They didn’t have any French silk. I got Reese’s peanut butter cup pie,” she said. She unlocked the passenger side door for Bridget and took the pie out of the plastic bag. She put the bag on the seat. “I can sit on this bag,” she said. When she sat down on the plastic, Lia handed her the Styrofoam box the pie was in and went to the other side. “Lucky you made it,” said Bridget. “You only had one bag.” Lia ignored her. “Let’s get you home and out of those wet pants.” “Thank you, Lia,” she said. “Most people would have stopped being my friend. I guess I am embarrassing to be around.” She pointed with both hands to her lap. “I can’t say I am not tempted, Angela.” Lia concentrated on driving, so she did not look at her. “I promise I won’t leave puddles behind anymore,” she said. She thought of the Depends and how she didn’t want Lia to see them. She didn’t trust herself to stay dry anymore, so she would have to show Lia before they went to bed. “Angela, you couldn’t help it,” Lia said. “Don’t make a promise you don’t know that you can keep.” “You see what I mean when we get to my house. It’s so embarrassing wetting myself all the time. I wonder what my mother is going to say when she sees me come home like this.” “We can stop at my house and I can run in and get something for you to change into. You’ll have to change in the car.” She wouldn’t mind changing in the car, but she was going to wear the diapers her mother got her until it was safe. “No, I don’t want to pee on your clothes too. Let’s just get to my house.” When she got home her mother was not too happy. “What happened, Angela?” she asked. She saw Lia come in behind her. “Lia, go on up to Angela’s room.” She turned back to Bridget. “This is getting to be a problem. I am going to make an appointment at the doctor’s office for you. Until then, we’ll put you in the Depends I bought.” “During the day too?” Bridget asked. She didn’t blame her if her mother did make her wear them. “That is up to you,” her mother said. “No one will know if your wear them, but they do know if you wet your pants. When Lia leaves in the morning we’ll start on the Depends. At least until the doctor tells us what is wrong.” Bridget closed her eyes. “I’ll wear them.” If this wasn’t a punishment for wetting her pants, the whole situation was a punishment for not saving those children. “I’ll wear them now.” She kept her head down and could not even look at her mother. “Go take a shower. I will get your things. Lia will never know you are wearing protection.” Bridget went to the upstairs bathroom and peeled off her wet clothes. She looked at the image of Angela in the mirror. “I’m sorry things had to work out like this, kid.” By the time she showered and dried off, her mother knocked on the door. “I got your things in my room. I didn’t want Lia to walk in while I change you.” Bridget blushed. She never imagined having to wear diapers again. She wrapped herself in the towel and followed her mother. “Lay down on the bed.” Bridget complied. She closed her eyes and hoped for the diaper to be on so she could get dressed and get out of there. She waited but nothing happened. “You need to watch me so you can do this yourself. You don’t want me to have to come to your school to change you, do you? Besides, you’re big enough to do this yourself.” Bridget blushed. There would be no way to keep the diapers a secret if that were to happen. She watched as her mother powdered her, and taped her diaper shut. She handed her pajamas. Bridget pulled them on. Being naked in front of this strange woman, Angela’s mother, frightened her. If she knew who Bridget really was, the woman would kill her. She felt so vulnerable. The diaper felt thick and snug. It was thicker than the Always pads she wore during her periods. She hoped it could be hidden under her clothes. As she walked out of the room toward her own, she heard a crinkling sound. She would have to wear tight panties over the diaper or something, if she wore it to school. She wondered what Lia would say when she noticed. She opened the door. Lia had put on her own pajamas and was sitting on Angela’s full bed. “Angela,” said Lia, “I was just thinking: what happens if you wet the bed tonight? Won’t you get me wet?” She wrinkled her nose when she said “me”, so Bridget knew the idea disgusted her. “Let’s just get started on Spanish,” Bridget said. “I’m serious, Angela.” She would have to either send her home or tell her about her diapers. They were diapers even though her mother was careful to just call them Depends instead of using the word diaper. “I won’t get you wet,” she said. She pulled down the waistband of her pajamas enough to show the diaper. “My mom bought them for me today for the bedwetting, but after what happened after the movie, I am going to wear them just to be safe.” “O-M-G, Angela,” said Lia. “How long is your mother making you wear them?” “I’m going to the doctor’s, probably on Tuesday, to find out what is wrong with me. Until them I am wearing them.” “Well at least it’s less noticeable than wet pants.” “I hope so, although I don’t plan on peeing in it.” She paused a few seconds. “On purpose anyway. Now let’s get started on Spanish.” It was all Bridget could do to get Lia to focus on Spanish. She kept stopping to ask what it felt like to use a diaper, and since Bridget didn’t know that, what it felt like to wear a diaper. They went through the conversation until Bridget was sure she could get through it by memory. Every so often, Lia would stop and ask, “Is it wet?” or an equally embarrassing question. “So the conversation...,” Bridget said when they got through it enough times. “How was it?” “You did great,” said Lia. “Don’t worry about it. I could have done without you being silly and mispronouncing stuff at the beginning. When you stopped joking around you were good.” “So Monday then,” said Bridget. “Yes Monday,” Lia said. “So Angela, are you really going to wear those diapers to class Monday?” “I don’t see that I have much of a choice. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of all our friends.” Bridget didn’t want to think about what would happen if the other students discovered that she was diapered. She supposed she would cross that bridge when she came to it. School only had another month anyway. She guessed she could stand the embarrassment for a month. She looked at the clock and yawned. “I didn’t know it was so late.” “Yeah, it’s one o’clock.” Lia yawned and stretched. “I’m ready to go to bed.” They settled in bed. Bridget closed her eyes and tried to sleep in spite of Lia’s soft snoring. It didn’t help that after several hours Lia woke her up. “Are you wet yet?” she asked. “No,” Bridget growled and turned her back and curled into her covers. She felt so a peace when she finally got to sleep. ### She ran as fast as she could, but they were still behind her. She couldn’t just run away from the engine noises because the men in the Prius chasing her were running off the batteries. She had to constantly look back to make sure they had not veered off to double around and come at her from the front. She could see the tattooed driver through the Prius’s windows. His cold, gray eyes pierced her as she tried to escape. She ran toward a gas station she saw in the distance. If only she could make it there, she would be safe, or at least she hoped she would find refuge there. When she arrived at the gas station, she saw no one in sight. The windows were dark and since the only light came from the flickering neon beer lights, she realized it was closed. The pumps were the old style ones with mechanical digits indicating the amount of gas bought and the price. The marquee over the pumps had peeling paint. The only sounds she heard were the metal price advertisements tapping out a warning when the breeze hit them. She looked behind her, seeing the Prius try to run her down. Inside was the terrorist who stole her rig, the young college girl, and the other man she had seen at the theater. The Prius grew as it sped toward her, becoming her own tank truck. The man inside stared her down. It was less than ten feet away when it burst into flames. She braced for the coming impact, but none came. She woke up sweating and screaming. “You okay, Angela?” asked Lia. Bridget rubbed her eyes and tried to get her bearings. Light streamed into the room. She felt her bed near her bottom, but there was no wetness. “Just had a bad dream,” she said. “At least I didn’t wet the bed.” “Well, that’s good,” said Lia. “Maybe you won’t need the diapers anymore.” She put her hand inside her pajamas and felt the plastic of the diaper. It actually felt thicker than it had when she put it on. It also felt squishy. She put her hand in the diaper. Her skin was wet and when she took her hand out, it smelled like pee. “I do need them,” she said. “I’m wet, but my bed is dry.” Lia got out of bed. “I’m going to go take a shower.” She hurried out of the room. “But I--“ Bridget started to say. She got out of bed, took off her pajama bottoms, and looked in the mirror. The blue stripes up and down the front of the diaper were gone. She felt so babyish in the diapers, but at least she didn’t have to strip the bed. “And tomorrow, Angela” she said, “I will plan how to get the people that did this to us.” Bridget took a shower after Lia left. She had a lot of work to do and she hadn’t even finished Brave New World. She would have to do that today to get the report finished. That would wait until her shower was over. She had left the diaper abandoned in the bathroom trash and concentrated on washing herself. Her skin smelled of pee, but that had become a familiar feeling to her of late. She rubbed the scented soap into her skin and felt much cleaner. Once clean, she dressed in a clean diaper, a t-shirt, and some shorts. It was hard to get the diaper on herself, but she managed. She did not want to ask her mother to do it for her again. She got up and spun around in front of the mirror. She couldn’t even see the shape of her diaper underneath her clothes. When she walked down the stairs, it crinkled audible. She blushed. “I’m definitely wearing tight panties over these,” she said to herself. “How did you sleep?” her mother asked. She was getting ready to cook breakfast again. “Did Lia notice your protection?” “I slept okay. I wet again, but the diaper got it all,” said Bridget. She tossed her hair. “Lia didn’t notice it until I told her.” “I am definitely going to make a doctor’s appointment for you,” said her mother. “This is not normal for a girl your age. You are being very cooperative about the wearing the Depends, but I would rather find out what is wrong with you.” “Me too. I don’t want to be in diapers forever.” Bridget knew the doctor wouldn’t find anything physically wrong with her. It was probably psychological and she didn’t know what to tell the shrink. Even if she was inclined to tell the truth, the psychiatrist would think she was crazy. She needed to find that terrorist and bring him to justice. Maybe that would stop the wetting. To find him, she knew, she would need help. She just didn’t know how she would get it. Breakfast was eaten in silence. Her father had already gone to his buddies to practice in their garage band. It was pretty cool to have a father that was a rock star, even if the only money the band made was from t-shirts and CD sales when they played for tips in bars. Her real dad worked at an insurance company. Insurance paid better than rock star; fortunately, her new dad kept his day job. She closed her eyes to keep from crying. Her real father’s death was her fault too. She still blamed herself for his heart attack. If only she had fought of the terrorist sooner she would still be able to spend time with him. She excused herself from the table and began reading Brave New World. It was noon by the time she finished and she had to bolt upstairs when John Savage hanged himself. This book and 1984 had crappy endings. She went to the bathroom and dried her face. She felt like peeing too, so she lowered her diaper and peed like a normal girl. It sure felt good to be in control. When she finished, she pulled up her diaper and shorts and hurried into her bedroom. She had a report to write. The paper only took a few hours to type on her Mac Book. What took so long was figuring out how to use a Mac in the first place. Once she opened Word, it was a simple task to type her report away until she lost track of time. When she finished it was three o’clock. She printed out her report and read over it to check for errors. Then she put it in her folder. Physics and Calculus were both easy compared to writing a paper. Both were just math problems. She finished each of those by five. She thought of her status after wetting in school and in front of her classmates at the movie theater. Wasting a Saturday with school work wasn’t going to hurt her social status at all. Her mother knocked on her door and came in. “I made supper. It’s just the two of us since your father is practicing with his band.” “Sounds good. I’m starved.” She followed her mother down stairs. The table was set already and a cooked frozen pizza was divided in between too plates. She sat down across from her mother. “Have you been staying dry today?” her mother asked. She blushed and nodded. “Good,” her mother said. “I went shopping for groceries today. I also got you some more supplies.” “Shouldn’t we wait to see what the doctor says?” she asked and took a bite of her pizza. Did her mother plan on her being in diapers forever? “I would have, but the top of you Depends sticks out the back of your shorts. I got you some pull-up style protection. It should be easier to manage during the day.” She quickly slapped her hand above the top back of her shorts and felt plastic. She could feel her skin heat up with embarrassment. If she had gone to school dressed as she was, then she might have been really humiliated. She imagined the cries of “Diaper baby, diaper baby,” of the other students and almost shivered at the thought. “I’ll change into one and test it out,” she said. “Finish your dinner first,” her mother said. Bridget sat down and fidgeted until she had eaten. As soon as the meal was over, she grabbed what was obviously incontinence products from one of the grocery bags her mother had brought home and took it upstairs. She peeled the bag open and pulled out one of the pull-ups. It looked like a thick pair of granny panties. She sighed and pulled off her diaper and pulled on her new disposable underpants. They were thick and itchy, but at least they didn’t peek out of the top or legs of her shorts. She checked it sitting and standing. She even bent over at the waist in front of her mirror. That showed the diaper from the leg holes in her shorts, so she decided not to do that. Satisfied, she decided to go to the mall. The little diary said it was Lia’s birthday on Monday. Bridget knew she had to get her something. Lia was excited about going to University of Idaho next fall, so she thought she would get her something with the Vandals mascot on it. She would like that. She walked down stairs. “Mother, I finished my homework. Will you please take me to the mall?” Her mother sat on the couch with a laptop on her lap and a pen in her mouth. She typed away for a minute and before she answered her. She fished car keys out of her pocket and handed them to Bridget. “You can drive. Just do it safely and make sure you have your license with you. I only want you to drive to the mall and back. Understand?” “Yes ma’am.” She was surprised. She hadn’t realized that Angela even had a license. She checked her purse and found it. She also packed a spare pull-up and headed to out to the car. “Hurry back,” her mother called to her, “you got to reply to one of your acceptance letters. You are running out of time.” “Oh, yeah,” said Bridget. “I’ll do it when I get back.” She was surprised Angela hadn’t done that yet. Bridget hadn’t driven since that fateful day twelve years ago when she was hijacked in her tank truck. She sat in the driver’s seat, started the car, and backed out of the driveway. She breathed out with relief; she still remembered how to drive: one of those things she could never forget. The trip to the mall was short. She got out of the car and walked in to the usual pre-summer Saturday crowd. She remembered that there was a sporting goods store nearby. She walked through the mall until she got to where it was. Instead of a sporting goods store, she found Pottery Barn. She walked right by. There had to be a place to buy Lia a Vandals t-shirt in the mall. Half the people in the mall either wore Bengals or Vandals shirts. This was Idaho after all. She continued walking until she found a store called SporTees. The store was devoted mainly to Vandals and Bengals t-shirts, but it also had NFL, NHL, and baseball tees. She went to the Vandals section and looked around. There were traditional t-shirts, baby doll t-shirts, and muscle shirts. Lia was a little chubby, so she decided to get a traditional t-shirt instead of a baby doll shirt. Unfortunately, the shirt she wanted for Lia was on the top rack. She had to step on her tippy toes to reach it and even then it was hard to get a hold of. In hindsight she probably should have asked for help, but instead she stretched to reach it. She had it in her hand when she fell backward into something soft and landed on her padded butt. “Are you all right?” asked the girl she landed on. The girl got up and reached down to help Bridget. She was the girl in the Go Veg shirt from the night before. Today she wore a PETA shirt. It actually said the real slogan instead of what she was used to: “People for the Eating of Tasty Animals.” She was so surprised she wet her pull-up a bit. “I’m fine,” she said. She wanted to grab the girl by the neck and force her to tell her where the terrorist who had ran her truck into the middle school. She wanted to waterboard her, but she had no idea how to go about the practice. She knew it involved water. “They put the shirts up too high,” said the vegetarian girl. To Bridget, she looked almost sickly. Her skin had an unhealthy paler and Bridget thought she could see the outline of girl’s bones through her skin. “I want that Washington State Cougars shirt.” She pointed at a baby doll shirt on the top shelf. “I’m going to be a freshman there in the fall. I live in Seattle. My uncle came here to meet someone and took me along so I could see the Washington State University. It is so much cheaper here than at the campus store.” Bridget was dying to press for more information. She didn’t dare spook the girl. “I still have to choose. I just can’t decide yet. I got acceptance letters from places,” she said. “My best friend is going to Moscow for college. I am getting her this shirt.” She held up the shirt she had literally fallen for. “My name’s Flower,” she said. “My parents were hippies.” “Br--Angela,” she started to say Bridget, but remembered at the last minute. “Brangela is a funny name.” Her face turned red as Bridget guessed she realized she said something rude. “Not as funny as Flower.” “My name is Angela. My friends call me Brangela because my boyfriend’s name is Brandon.” She showed her a picture of Evan Fiscus. “Wow, I bet you are going to the school he goes to. I wouldn’t let him go off alone, Brangela” “Just Angela now. He left me for the easy girl at my high school.” Bridget didn’t mind slandering Evan Fiscus at all. It actually felt good. It almost felt too good. She was beginning to like Flower and that couldn’t happen. She still wanted to get revenge against the terrorist and all his friends. “Well, it was nice meeting you.” She pointed to the terrorist who had walked into the store. “My uncle is here. I got to go.” Flower turned and walked to the cash register, paid for her shirt, and left. The pee started filling up Bridget’s pull-up. She was afraid it would leak, so she tried hard to stop peeing. She felt drops of pee at the legs of her pull-up. She hung up Lia’s shirt and walked quickly out of the store to the bathroom. Tears welled up in her eyes. The diaper would have held until she got to the bathroom, she thought. The pull-up was going to leak; she knew it. She hurried in the lady’s room and grabbed a stall. She pulled down her shorts and the pull-up and let the rest of her bladder out in the toilet and cried. She pulled off her shorts completely to survey the damage. There was a tiny wet spot on the inseam of her shorts, but it was hardly anything to worry about. It wasn’t even noticeable. She put on her spare pull-up and her shorts. It wasn’t the best thing in the world, but it wouldn’t be embarrassing to walk around the mall or even return to SporTees. She bought the shirt for Lia and returned home. ### Her mother intercepted her as soon as she got home and handed her a stack of papers. “You got to confirm your acceptance with one college or another by next Friday. That means you need to mail it out Monday morning. I don’t care which school you pick.” “Alright.” Bridget spread the mess on the kitchen table and spent some time sorting it. She had scholarships to both Idaho schools and Washington State University. She also had an acceptance letter to MIT, but she wouldn’t be given scholarship money and out of state tuition there was expensive. She picked the Washington State. Not only did it have a Electronics Engineering major, but it was where the vegetarian girl Flower was going to school. Maybe she could use Flower to get to her uncle the terrorist and--she still needed to think through the and part. Bridget was a sophomore when she dropped out of college because she ran out of money. This time she would finish. She filled out the forms she needed and put them in an envelope. She wrote thank you notes to the rest of the schools and got the envelopes ready. “Did you decide, Angela,” her mother asked. “Yes,” she said. “Washington State.” “That’s a good school too. At least it’s not too far away. You can come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Her mother looked disappointed that she didn’t pick something closer. Bridget realized that Angela was Mrs. Murphy’s youngest child--the baby of her family. She felt bad for Angela’s mother, but she had to leave Idaho and go to Washington to solve her problems. It would be the only way to get closure and end her wetting problem. She handed her new mother the envelopes and scooped the rest of her paperwork mess and took it up stairs. She went to bed feeling complete. Even thought she knew she would wake up dry, she put on a diaper before going to bed. The accident in the mall did not count. The pull-up hid it from everyone in view and she only had accidents during the day when she saw the terrorist. She fell asleep and began to dream. The tanker truck crashed into the school in her sleep again. The terrorist was more vivid and real than ever. She saw everything about him: his eyes, his face, his rough hands, the barrel of his gun, and she felt the heat of the fire before she woke up screaming. She was safe in her room. Light drifted in from her curtains. She felt the dry bed and smiled. She was dry, but she remembered her diaper and felt inside. She had wet the bed again. “Angela, hurry or you will be late for church,” her mother called as she knocked on Bridget’s door. “Oh yes, church,” she said. She got up, wrapped a robe around her, and took a shower. After putting on makeup and brushing her hair, she returned to her bedroom to dress. It had been a while since she had been to church. In prison, she couldn’t go to the chapel with the other prisoners. They kept the death row inmates separate. Instead, a priest would visit her each week, but it wasn’t the same. She wasn’t even Catholic. From seeing Angela’s clothes, she would have never thought the Murphy family went to church. She always remembered having to wear a dress to church. Her father had told her that only harlots wear pants to church. She never had the guts to tell her father that harlots probably didn’t go to church, but all her friends had worn dresses. She dug through the closet until she found a dress that didn’t look like an evening gown or didn’t look too casual. She finally settled on the one cotton dress she could find. After putting on a pull-up and pulling on the stockings, she pulled the dress on over her head. She looked in the mirror and twirled around. The only visible indication that she was well padded would be hidden when her mother zipped up the back of her dress. “Are you ready for church yet,” her mother asked. Bridget opened the door and turned away from her mother. “Need help zipping up,” she said, “then I am ready. When she felt the zip being pulled up she grabbed her purse and an extra pull-up and tucked her protection inside incase she needed it later. “Do you need a spare,” she asked, “or is that for just in case?” “It’s for just in case, mother.” Bridget felt herself blush as she looked at her mother. Her mother wore normal pants and a shirt. She didn’t look ready for church. “I’m surprised you are wearing that dress. I’ll have to take your picture in it and send it to grandma. She wondered why she never saw you wearing it.” “I really don’t have very many church clothes,” said Bridget. She followed her mother down stairs. Her father stood by the door. He was wearing a polo shirt and khakis. Her real father had always worn a coat and tie to church. She hadn’t been to church since the last time she was a senior in high school, so maybe things had changed. “You look nice Angela,” her father said. “The boys in your Sunday school class won’t be able to pay attention to the lesson. “Thanks, dad,” she said. “I’ll though I am sure I’m not the only girl that will dress nice.” He shrugged and they walked to the car. Once they got to the church parking lot, things got complicated. Bridget did even realize they were at a church until she saw the sign above the door that said the name of the church. She was used to a church with a steeple and stained glass windows. This looked like a normal building. They walked into the lobby and her parents walked away. “See you after Sunday school,” said her mother. Bridget looked around confused, but then saw Lia. “I’m glad to see you here,” she told her friend. “You’re dressed up,” said Lia. “Of course,” she said. She looked around and everyone seemed to be underdressed for church. Lia even wore blue jeans. “You’re acting weird again,” said Lia. “Almost like you did since Wednesday. You are acting like you never been here before.” “Let’s just go to our Sunday school class,” said Bridget. She followed Lia, but tried to make it look like she was not following her. When they got to Sunday school, the lesson was about forgiveness. She seethed with anger. She could never forgive the terrorist with the owl tattoos and those cold, gray eyes. She tried to tune out the lesson and thought of something else. Finally it ended, and she rejoined her family in the auditorium. There was none of the songs or piano music she was used to at church. The music was all done with guitars and there was a quartet instead of a choir. Instead of songbooks, the words to the songs were beamed onto a big PowerPoint screen. When the preacher got behind the pulpit to give a sermon, he wasn’t even wearing a tie. Bridget spent the entire sermon looking around, so she never did remember what the sermon was about in the first place, although the outline of the sermon was also beamed to the screen. After church, everyone walked to their cars and traffic backed up around the parking lot. Bridget was ready for the bathroom, but she knew she could wait until she got home. She also looked forward to the smell of roast beef in the oven that would greet her when she got home, but instead of going home, her father parked the car in front of a restaurant. She didn’t recall her new mom putting a roast into the oven after all. Bridget waited until they had sat down and ordered before excusing herself to use the restroom. Her pull-up was dry so far, but she didn’t plan on peeing in it on purpose. She used the toilet like normal. She returned to the table and started to eat her food. “So, Angela,” said her father, “your mother tells me you picked a college.” “Yes, I did: Washington State,” she answered. “It was one of two schools that offered me a scholarship.” “Better not tell Lia,” said her mother. “I think she planned on having you as her roommate at University of Idaho.” “She’ll have to say something,” her father said, “I heard Lia saying the two of you would be looking for an awesome apartment near campus.” “She never mentioned that to me,” said Bridget. “I just have to go to Washington State. I’ll have to find an apartment there, I guess.” “Freshmen at Washington State are required to live in the dorms,” her father said, “at least when I went there.” Bridget’s smile faded. The dorms. That would mean sharing a room and having to hide her bedwetting from a roommate. “It’s too late to change.” “It’s not that bad,” said her father. “I met some friends I still hang out with in the dorms in college.” “Are you worried about your nighttime problem?” asked her mother. “Mother!” She couldn’t believe her mother had told her father. “What problem?” he asked. He was probably just trying to find out to protect his daughter, but Bridget didn’t want him to know too. “She’s just having stress about getting ready to graduate,” said her mother. “I just have been washing the sheets a bit more.” She saw her father redden a bit. “Oh,” he said. “So what do you think of the Cougars?” He obviously tried to change the subject. “Sounds like fun. I heard if University of Idaho loses to the Cougars they have to walk all the way back to Idaho from Washington.” “Watch out,” said her mother. “I recall seeing Washington State people walking back to their campus a few times. University of Idaho sometimes wins.” “One of the problems of a mixed marriage,” said her father. “My parents warned me about dating across school rivalries.” He put his arm around Bridget’s mother. The whole scene embarrassed her. Her real mother died when Bridget was still young, so she never remembered her father and mother flirting with one another. She just sat and ate her meal while her parents ignored her. After lunch they drove home. Bridget changed into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening working on her Spanish. It was hard reading through the entire Spanish book and her notes and remembering enough. She also looked over the conversation Lia and she had practiced until she could do it with her eyes closed. She still had no idea what she was saying, but at least the words were right. She was about to put everything away in her bag and enjoy the rest of the evening when her cell phone rang. She flipped it open. “Hello?” “It’s Lia,” said Lia, “You ready for our Spanish conversation?” Bridget said her first line from memory. “Yes, I’m ready.” “Well we got to plan for college,” she said. “I’m going to find a cute yet cool apartment in Moscow. It will be cool living right near campus and...” She went on and on. “Moscow, Idaho might be a bit too far for me,” said Bridget. “I hate to disappoint you, but I am going to Washington State.” “What?” asked Lia. “I thought we would be going to school together.” “We’re still best friends,” said Bridget. “I don’t want to fight over the cute guys with you, so we’ll have to be on separate campuses.” “But I’ll be alone. You’ve been my only friend since kindergarten. Who else will I be able to hang out with?” Bridget sighed. “We’ll make new friends, and besides: we won’t be that far apart. Washington State and University of Idaho are a little over seven miles apart. We go farther than that to go to the mall.” “It just won’t be the same without you, Angela,” said Lia. “Well get rest for our Spanish conversation tomorrow.” She heard a click as Lia hung up. She felt a little bad about upsetting Lia, because she had grown to like her over the past few days. She was great about the accidents she had witnessed as well, but Washington State was important in her quest to get the terrorist guy and keep him from hurting other people. She took out a science fiction book she had gotten at the school library and read it. ### Tonight, she realized what was going on earlier in the nightmare. She even managed to get the semi-truck stopped before it rammed the middle school. She steered hard to the left and the truck rolled to its side. It lost a lot of momentum as the metal screeched and groaned across the ground toward the school. It stopped right in front of the entrance to the school. She had tumbled to the driver’s side window, her arm pinned between the ground and the overturned truck. The terrorist had fallen on top of her. The fuel tanks had rupture and she could smell fuel, but at least the students were safe. She felt the ground where her arm was pinned. It was wet from the spilt fuel. She tried to get up, but her arm was pinned. The terrorist was still masked, but she could do something about that. She grabbed at the mask with her free hand and tried to expose the terrorist. He only laughed and reached into his jacket. Whatever he touched made a beeping sound. “Beep, beep, beep.” She grabbed at his hands, but he shook her off of him, but she revealed what he had exposed. A ticking time bomb strapped to his chest said, “0:02” seconds, then 0:01 second, then she woke up screaming. When Bridget sat up she realized three things: first, she slept in her clothes, she saturated her pull-up, and she wet her jeans and her bed.” Her hand brushed something hard. It was the book she had been reading the night before. She had fallen asleep reading. At least the book didn’t get wet or pee stained. She hoped the rest of her day would be much better. Monday started with wet sheets and wet clothes. Bridget had fallen asleep before putting on her diaper. The pull-up she had been wearing was saturated and besides, it was not made for use when lying down. Bridget got up and stripped her bed before doing her morning shower. In the shower, as the pee was scrubbed from her body, Bridget felt better. She had the University of Idaho t-shirt to give Lia for her birthday. She hoped it wouldn’t lead to an argument about her choice of school. She got dressed and made sure she had a clean pull-up on and some spares packed. She did not relish another public accident. She wore jeans and a T-shirt that said “Knights Who Formally Said Ni” on it. On the back was a picture of a shrubbery. “How did you sleep?” asked her mother when she greeted her for breakfast. Bridget looked at her father. She did want to talk about her bedwetting with her father present even if he already knew. “Um, good.” “Well that’s good,” said her father. He picked up his briefcase and guitar and started toward the door. “I got band, so I’ll be late getting home tonight.” He walked out leaving Bridget alone with her mother. “So, do I still need to make you an appointment?” asked her mother. “You probably should,” Bridget answered. “I wet last night and I only had a pull-up on. I need my sheets washed again.” “Angela.” Her mother looked at her with a stern look. “Am I going to have to put your Depends on you for bed?” “No, I can handle it. I just fell asleep before I meant to. I still had my jeans on.” She did not want her mother to change her. She’d gotten used to doing for herself. Her mother put a plate of sausages and eggs in front of her. “Eat your breakfast. I will make an appointment for you to visit the doctor’s tomorrow. “Thanks,” said Bridget. She hoped the problem was medical and she could take a pill to stop peeing herself. She forked at her breakfast and ate some of the eggs and a few of the sausages. Maybe something would go right today. She looked at her watch. “Ooh, time for the bus,” she said. She got her backpack and Lia’s present and ran out the door. ### Bridget climbed onto the bus and looked for Lia. As she walked down the aisle to claim her usual spot behind her, Lia didn’t pick up her bag off the seat to let Bridget sit down. “Still mad at me about my college pick?” she asked. Lia nodded. “I got you a gift for your birthday.” She held up the gift bag with the Vandals t-shirt. Lia moved her bag so Bridget could sit down. She opened the package and pulled out her gift. “Oh, a Vandals t-shirt. Thank you.” She folded up the shirt and put in her backpack. “I’m sorry I was mad at you. Still, why did you choose Washington State over University of Idaho?” Bridget looked at Lia. “It’s complicated.” What was she supposed to tell her: that she possessed her best friend and was actually Bridget Addison? That would get her nowhere. If Lia repeated that to someone else it might get her locked up in a mental hospital. “Tell me,” Lia said. “I don’t know,” Bridget said. She stalled a bit. “I guess it is just where I feel I belong. Besides, most everyone else in our class is going to Idaho State or University of Idaho. I don’t really want my toilet problems to follow me to college.” Lia looked down. “Oh, I never thought of that.” The bus pulled up to the school and Bridget and Lia got out and walked to Physics class. The class assignment was to build a circuit by copying the schematic from the whiteboard. She couldn’t believe they actually had to build a real circuit on a breadboard and everything. It took the entire class period to finish it and then have it checked by the Ben Stein lookalike teacher. Finally class ended and they went to pre-calculus. “Ready for the test?” asked Lia. “I think so.” Bridget sat down and waited while the teacher passed out tests. Bridget looked it over. She was glad she had brushed up on her Calculus homework the past couple of days. She sat down and began answering the questions. By the time the test was over, she really had to pee. She turned in her test and asked the teacher, “May I run to the restroom.” He nodded and Bridget left the classroom to go pee. She had to go so bad, she didn’t know what she would have done if he refused. No, she knew what she would have done. She would have been changing a wet pull-up in the busy bathroom between classes: that is if it didn’t leak. Once in the bathroom, she pulled down her pants and pull-up and peed just as she heard the door open and shut. Someone else was in there with her. She was glad once again that her mother got her pull-ups instead of her plan to wear diapers all day. She knew the diapers would have been crinkling as she changed them. At least the pull-ups were relatively silent. When she finished and left the stall, she ran right into Julia Grass. “Watch it, Miss Pee-pee Pants.” Julia set her purse on the bathroom sink. “Any luck finding a date for prom?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I didn’t think you did. No one wants a prom date that leaves a trail.” “Shut up and leave me alone, Julia,” said Bridget. “I was humiliated enough the first time, and you got my ex-boyfriend already. What more do you want? To make me feel horrible about myself? Well you got your wish.” Bridget turned and walked out of the bathroom back to class. English was boring as usual, but as promised Mrs. Miller picked up the papers at the beginning of class. She spent the rest of the class period passing out copies of the last book they had to read before the semester ended: the Scarlet Letter. Bridget flipped through it while the Mrs. Miller droned on about Nathanial Hawthorne for the rest of the class period. “Was it just me or was Grosstree especially boring today?” asked Lia. “Especially boring,” said David Krouse, one of their classmates. “I mean, who cares about a bunch of Puritans.” “I always liked that story,” Bridget admitted. “You would,” said Lia. She turned to David. “You should see her bedroom. It is filled with trashy romance novels. That is all she reads.” “I read other things,” said Bridget. “Name the last book you read and you can’t count the 1984 or Brave New World,” said Lia. “Fire Upon the Deep,” said Bridget and stuck out her tongue. “Really,” said Lia. She looked shocked because she never expected Bridget to know the name of a science fiction book, much less read one. She forgot about that problem as she saw David walking away. She pulled him back by his backpack. “Ask her,” she hissed at him. David suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Um,” he said. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I’m not going to ask Angela to the prom. Everyone will make fun of me.” “You’re a jerk, David,” said Lia. “Go away.” “It’s alright, David,” said Bridget. “Don’t worry about it.” She turned to Lia. “Thank you anyway. But don’t worry about prom.” Bridget had been to her own prom. It was at a hotel ballroom. Here at the school Angela attended, the prom was going to be in the school gym. That really didn’t excite her much, but she didn’t care. “It was still jerky to say that.” “You put him on the spot, Lia,” Bridget answered. “I’m not exactly prime prom material. Who wants a prom date that leaves a trail?” “Aren’t you wearing one of your...?” “Yes, but I’m not advertising it and that won’t get me a prom date either. Let’s just eat lunch.” Lunch was better than usually. Today it was Frito Pie again. Bridget sat down with her tray and enjoyed her meal. Maybe today was looking up. She hoped Spanish would go well. It should. She and Lia had practiced it enough. “Let’s go over our conversation one more time, Angela,” suggested Lia. Bridget nodded in agreement. “¿usted habla español?” “Si” answered Lia. They ran through their conversation one last time before the bell rang. Computer class was non-eventful. They were just giving their next assignments and told to start them on the computers. Bridget didn’t even get a quarter of the way done. She supposed she would do it at home that evening. She had the Spanish conversation on her mind. She worried that the teacher might ask her some questions in Spanish that she hadn’t rehearsed. She looked over at Lia. She was typing away oblivious. Bridget envied her calm. Finally, the bell rang. Lia touched her shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay,” she said. “You practiced this.” They walked out of the hall to class. In the hall, Julia Grass bumped into them. “So, Accident Girl,” Julia sneered, “I heard you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel and ask David Krouse to prom.” “David’s not the bottom of the barrel,” said Lia. “He is pretty smart too.” “Yeah, he was smart enough to reject Pee-girl,” said Julia. “Stop it,” said Bridget. She grabbed Lia’s arm. “Let’s go.” When Julia was out of sight Lia said, “You should have slapped her. She is such a ho.” “Yeah, and then I might have knocked loose her brain cell and then gotten in trouble.” Bridget smiled. “Besides Julia is going to have to go to community college because they won’t take her in a real college.” “You’re right, I guess.” They walked in the Spanish classroom and waited. As soon as class started the Spanish teacher said something totally incomprehensible to Bridget and Lia. Bridget had to look around before she realized Lia had gone up to the front of the classroom. She got up and stood beside her. She looked at all the students in the classroom just staring at her and froze. She would never get this conversation done. She would fail Spanish and have to stay at this school forever. She suddenly had to go to the bathroom bad. She looked at Lia. Lia just mouthed the words, “You’ll do fine. Start.” Bridget knew this. They rehearsed so many times. Bridget let a few nervous dribbles out and was grateful for the pull-up. She said her first line in Spanish. She hated speaking in front of the class. Still she waited and then Lia gave her line. Bridget did her next line. She was slow at first and stuttered through her recitation. She kept her eyes off the class and on Lia and the next thing she knew she was reading through the conversation like a champ. Before she knew it they were done. “Adios,” said Lia. “Adios,” repeated Bridget. Lia smiled at the Senorita Faust. Bridget stood nervously twisting her hair around a finger. She looked pleadingly at the teacher and hoped she would say they could sit down.” Instead Senorita Faust said something in Spanish and handed Lia a piece of paper. Finally Lia went to her seat and Bridget sat in the seat next to her. She didn’t even look at Lia. She knew they did awfully and that the teacher probably marked her way down for stumbling over, “Hablo español bien.” Bridget looked down at her crotch and felt the bottoms of her jeans to make sure she was dry. She felt damp and couldn’t wait until class ended to check the damage. She felt no wetness on her clothes; the only damage must be safely concealed in her pull-up. She looked as the next couple groups gave their conversations seemingly perfect, although a couple of times Senorita Faust rolled her eyes or shook her head before writing something down on a paper. When the conversation finished she gave the paper to one of the group members. They took their seat and the next group came up. Three groups, including Lia and herself, gave their conversations before the bell rang. Bridget fled toward the bathroom. She still had to pee, even though she leaked a bit. She entered a stall and sat down and went. As she peed she checked the wetness of the pull-up. The crotch was a bit yellowed, but it wasn’t soaked like the one she wet the bed in. If she hadn’t been wearing it there would have been a largish wet spot on her pants, but it wasn’t so bad that she would have been standing in a puddle. There were students in the other stalls and making noises in the bathroom. There was no way she could carry a wet pull-up to the trash. She pulled the damp thing back up and pulled up her jeans. It wasn’t that wet, but since she had pulled it down, the peed had cooled and was cold and irritating to her skin. She left the bathroom and went to study hall. At least here, she could work on homework. She needed to do something and studying would have to do. She worked on Physics and read some of the Scarlett Letter. She wondered what letter she would have to wear if she was treated like Hester Prynne. She didn’t know if it would be a yellow letter P for having accidents or a green letter T for Terrorist since she had been blamed when she couldn’t stop the terrorist from crashing her truck into the school. Probably the T. She felt guilty about that. The P was not something to be guilty about. They were caused by the first. She would have to bring the owl-tattooed terrorist to justice to make her guilt go away: that and the accidents. They should go away too when she made the terrorist pay. After school she beat Lia to the bus. She still wore the damp pull-up, but the coast wasn’t clear to change it in the bathroom. As embarrassed as she was by her daytime accidents, she would be more embarrassed if someone, especial Julia Grass, discovered her pull-ups. “Hi,” said Lia as she sat beside her. “Sorry about the conversation,” said Bridget, “I was really nervous.” “What?” said Lia, “We got an A. We got the five bonus points for going first. You already got an A in almost everything in Spanish.” “I’m still worried about the final,” Bridget admitted. “Seniors are exempt from finals in classes where they have an A,” said Lia. “I probably only have to take my Calculus and Physics final. You would have to really mess up to need to take a final in any class. Maybe in English though. Grosstree hates you.” At least she didn’t have to worry about finals. That only left a few more weeks to worry about. The bus stopped at her house before she knew it. “Get my homework assignments for me tomorrow. I will miss morning classes.” She got off the bus and went home. “So how was your day?” ask her mother. “Did you stay dry okay?” “Mother,” Bridget said. “Well if you’re not you need to tell the doctor tomorrow.” “No, I’m dry.” The wetness in her pull-up was just from being nervous. “I’m going upstairs to do homework,” she said. Upstairs she changed clothes and put on a new pull-up. She only had homework in Physics and English tonight and English was just a reading assignment. She worked on the last two questions in Physics and read more of the Scarlett Letter. She only came down for dinner. After dinner, this time she made sure to shower and put on a full diaper before going to sleep. She certainly did not want a repeat of the night before. The terrorist and the truck was back. This time the terrorist had a green T at his collar. She looked down at her body. Her pajama top was unbuttoned and at her breast was a greenish T-shaped mark on her chest like a festering wound. She screamed and woke up. She felt her diaper. She was wet again. She turned on the light and opened her pajama top: no mark on her chest. It was still early: only one o’clock. Bridget tried to go back to sleep. How could she enjoy reading ever again if she incorporated everything she read into her dreams. That would not work and it would have to stop. She tried to think of happier times. Maybe that is what it would take to finally fall asleep. “Angela, it’s time to wake up.” Bridget stirred and looked toward her bedroom door where her mother was standing. “I’m up,” she said. She looked at her clock. It was already 9:30. She normal had to catch the school bus at eight. “I let you sleep in. Your doctor’s appointment isn’t until eleven, but you should probably get up now.” Bridget got out of bed and rushed to the bathroom for her shower. She undressed and looked in the mirror. Her diaper was soaked almost to the point of leaking. The bedwetting needed to stop. Hopefully the doctor would have something to say about it. She hoped it was something that wasn’t embarrassing. The daytime problems only happened when she was near the terrorist. She would still need her pull-ups when she was actively hunting him. She went to the mirror and started to dress. Her pull-up would be obvious if the doctor had her undressed. She was tempted to go to her room and get some panties, but maybe the pull-ups would help the doctor know how serious her bladder problems were. Jeans and a cute t-shirt would be enough for clothes; the doctor probably wouldn’t care what she wore. She emerged from the bathroom and went to her room for her schoolbag. She would need it when her mother dropped her off at school after her appointment. Even though Bridget thought the appointment should help her she dreaded it. At least it would be a doctor and not someone good looking. Even so, she looked in the mirror and attempted to make her hair look nice. She also added make-up. “Angela, are you almost ready?” asked her mother. Bridget exited her room. “I’m ready.” “Good, let’s go,” said her mother. They went downstairs and got into the maroon Taurus. The last time she had ridden in this car, at least in the passenger seat, she had been a poopy mess. This time she was clean and she would remain clean because of her pull-up. At least she hoped. During the ride to the doctor’s office her mother constantly talked about her control issues. “Now no matter what the doctor says, we’ll still love you,” her mother said. “You’ve been very responsible about not fighting me about wearing protection.” “Well I still don’t want to be known as the girl who pees herself with or without the diapers,” said Bridget. “I want my normal bedtime routine back.” “Well, the doctor will find out what is wrong and treat you,” said her mother. Before Bridget knew it, they had pulled into the doctor’s office. Bridget got out of the car and looked around nervously. Her mother held the door to the doctor’s office open for her and they went in. The waiting room had rows of chairs. There were about four of five patients in the room. Two were children with their mothers. Two others were old ladies and then there was a man of about thirty. Bridget hoped they didn’t know why she was here. She didn’t know why they were there so it was reasonable to expect that they didn’t know why she was there. She sat in her chair and read the Scarlet Letter some more while she was waiting while her mother filled out the paperwork. She was really wondering if Chillingworth was going to do something bad to the preacher, but then she heard her name being called. “Angela Murphy.” The man was older and he was wearing scrubs. He had gray hair and he just looked old. Bridget felt comfortable now. Sure it would be embarrassing to tell him about the wetting, but at least he wasn’t a cute guy. “Dr. Ulman,” she said as she followed him down the hall. “Actually, I’m Dr. Vance. Dr. Ulman will be with you later. Go into this room.” He pointed to an examination room. Bridget went inside and sat on the examination table. The paper on the table crinkled as she scooted up on it. Dr Vance put her folder in the pocket on the door and shut it leaving her in privacy. Bridget sat bored. She looked around at all the posters on the wall. There were pictures of the heart, the lungs, and many of the other organs. There was also a picture of a man on a sailboat. Bridget didn’t think it fit in with the other images, but she shrugged. She thought the man looked kind of cute. The door opened and a man in a white lab coat entered. He was the cute man on the sailboat. He wore a stethoscope around his neck and he was smiling. “Hi. What seems to be the problem?” “Problem?” asked Bridget. “What problem? I’m just here for a checkup.” There was no way she could tell this guy that she couldn’t keep her bed dry and that she wet her pants sometimes. The doctor looked at her chart. “It says here you are having some control issues. Is that correct?” Bridget felt her face burn. She nodded and hung her head. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he said. “Lots of people have bladder control problems sometime in their lives. If you don’t tell your doctor, then I can’t help you.” “I’m sorry,” she said. If he hadn’t been so cute, she would have told him. “Your mother said it is mainly a nighttime problem, but you had a few accidents during the day.” “Yes.” “Does it burn when you pee?” “No.” “Well that doesn’t rule out a bladder infection, but I am going to run a test just to make sure.” He handed her a plastic cup and opened the door for her. He led her to a bathroom. “Just fill that up for me, please.” He shut the door leaving her alone. Bridget sat down and peed in the cup. When it was full she finished peeing in the toilet. She adjusted her clothing, washed her hands and carried the cup out to Dr. Ulman. He took the cup. Wait in the exam room while I check this for you. Bridget had no choice but to do what he said. Soon he came back. “I didn’t see any bacteria in the sample,” he said. “Are you waking up wet or waking up as you are wetting the bed.” “I wake up wet. I have a dream and then wake up wet,” she said. “Oh, the classic dream where you dream you are going to the bathroom? That is common.” He wrote something down. “Not exactly,” she said. “I have nightmares every night. Not really going-to-the-bathroom related.” “I see,” he said. “Do you know what is causing these nightmares?” “Yes,” said Bridget. No, he will ask me about it, she thought. “No, I mean. Just bad, scary stuff.” “Maybe I can refer you to a psychologist,” he said. Bridget shook her head vigorously, “No, no,” she said. “No shrinks.” A shrink would find out who she really was. Maybe they would execute her if they knew she had jumped bodies. She shivered. “It helps to talk things out. I think your problem is psychological. A psychologist could help. It’s probably just stress and he can give you ways to manage stress.” “Do you have pills you can give me to make me stop wetting the bed,” she said. “Yes, pills.” “There are pills,” he said and looked at her chart, “but you are allergic to one of the ingredients. Maybe when the summer starts you’ll see a reprieve from the bed wetting. Until then, wear protection. I still recommend you talk to a psychologist though. We’ll still run a few more tests.” It took another hour of being poked and prodded before the doctor was satisfied. Bridget walked out off the office feeling upset. She hoped the doctor could find a medical reason she was wetting the bed. He probably suspected the root of the problem when she mentioned the bad dreams. “I’m done,” she said to her mother. As Dr. Ulman and her mother talked for a little while, Bridget felt her face burn with embarrassment. When her mother said the words bed wetting or accidents, she felt like everyone in the waiting room was staring at her. It was probably just her imagination, but it sure felt like it. Finally they finished and Bridget rushed her mother to the car. “That was certainly embarrassing,” said Bridget. “Well, at least you know what you need to do,” said her mother. “Dr. Ulman gave me the name of a psychologist. I can make an appointment. Do you want me to do that Angela?” “No.” Bridget remembered the psychologist she talked to after being arrested. He showed her stupid ink blots and expected her to tell them what she thought they looked like. They all looked like explosions to her, but she answered, “a pretty butterfly,” or something equally tame. At the time her attorneys were trying to get her off on an insanity plea, but she thought her only way to get the terrorist caught was to tell her story at trial. She’d been wrong. “I’m not talking to a psychologist.” “Would you rather talk to a psychologist or wear diapers to bed?” asked her mother. Bridget thought for a second. “Diapers. I know that seems silly, but I can’t talk to a psychologist. I just can’t.” “Okay, Angela,” said her mother. “Let’s just get something to eat. We’ll talk about this later.” ### They had Burger King for lunch. Bridget bought the biggest Angus burger they had. It felt good to eat real food instead of cafeteria slop. While they were eating, Bridget watched as protesters gathered outside. They had signs that read “Murder King” and “Meat is murder.” “What are those bozos up to?” asked a guy at the next table. “Oh those are those PETA crazies. They protest a different fast food restaurant every week,” he said. “I belong to the other PETA: People for the Eating of Tasty Animals.” He took a bite of his burger. As Bridget finished her burger, she scanned the protesters outside. There were just five of them. They held signs as people drove by and gave them the finger. One of the guys looked like the terrorist’s friend from the movie theater. Suddenly, she had to go the bathroom urgently. She pushed her chair back from the table and walked swiftly to the bathroom with her hand in her crotch. She took the first stall, pulled down her pants and peed. “That was close.” She felt the crotch of her pull-up. Thankfully it was still dry. She ate the rest of her food without saying anything. When she took the last bite, she said. “Let’s go. Please.” Her mother followed her to the car and they got in. “Did you have an accident?” “No, I made it.” She pointed toward where the protesters were. “Let’s avoid those guys,” she said. They knew the terrorist too. She didn’t share her thoughts with her mother. Even if she could somehow get past the body snatching aspect of her weird week she had been in Angela’s body, surely people would think she was schizophrenic if she was so paranoid she had wetting accidents when she spotted the terrorist or his compatriots. “I’ll drop you back at school. You should be able to get there in time for Spanish class.” “Sounds good,” said Bridget. Burger King and the PETA protesters were behind her and now out of her mind by the time her mother dropped her off at school. She got out of the car and went straight to Spanish class. She was still a little early, but most of her other classmates were there. David Krouse was laughing and joking with his friends. Julia Grass and Evan Fiscus were attached at the hip as usual. However, she couldn’t find Lia anywhere. She turned to David. “Where’s Lia?” she asked. He stopped laughing and his smile faded. “Um, she...” “She was supposed to tell me what I missed when I was at my doctor’s appointment.” Julia came over. “Yeah, I got your stuff.” She handed me the assignments that Lia had written down for me. “Her mother came and pulled her out of class this morning. Her father was hurt really bad at work.” “He’s a lumberjack,” said David. “Some idiot environmentalist spiked a bunch of trees and when he cut one of them down, it broke his chainsaw.” “No,” said Bridget. She put her bag down on her desk and sat down before her knees weakened and she fell down. This was her fault. The terrorist or one of his friends had to have done this because Bridget couldn’t convince anyone the terrorist was still at large. She had a whole week to warn everyone, but she had said nothing. “Will he be all right?” “They say it doesn’t look good,” said Evan. “He’s probably not going to make it. That’s why Lia’s mother pulled her out of school.” The bell rang and Senorita Faust called the class to order. “I know we’re all worried about Lia’s father, but we got conversations to get through. I’ll get a card for Lia that we all can sign tomorrow.” Bridget was glad Lia and her had already done their conversation. Lia would have been a mess and Bridget had barely known what she was doing. Bridget could even concentrate on listening to the other conversations. She just dreamed of all the things she could do to that evil, evil terrorist. She had been idle far too long. Study hall was no different. She could barely concentrate to do her homework but she managed to get through pre-calculus and physics. Nothing was left but reading on the Scarlet Letter, and Bridget just wasn’t up to it. She frowned and looked at the clock. There were five more minutes. She packed her bags and the study hall teacher glared at her. Mrs. Simkins was one of those teachers that hated when students packed their bags before the final bell rung. Finally, class ended and Bridget left to go home. As she was switching books around in her locker, the kid with the locker next to her said, “Hurry up, accident girl.” “Give it a rest for a few days, please,” said Julia Grass. “She’s Lia’s best friend. You heard what happened to Lia’s dad.” “Thanks,” said Bridget. “No problem,” said Julia. “When Lia comes back, though, it is back to normal.” “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” said Bridget. She hurried to catch her bus. When she got on the bus, it felt like a different place. No one yelled, “Pee girl,” as she boarded and people told her to wish Lia’s father to get well. It was funny riding the bus alone without Lia beside her like she did all that week. ### After supper, Bridget called Lia. “Hi. It’s Angela.” All she heard on the phone was sobs. “You want me to come over? Where are you?” The phone just hung up. Lia was really upset and probably didn’t want to talk to anyone. She would call Bridget back when she wanted to talk. A minute later Bridget’s phone rang out the tone that said she received a text message. “Can’t talk. Yes. Come over. I am at home.” Bridget went down stairs. “Mother, can I use the car. I need to go over to Lia’s” “Are you sure she is home and she wants you over?” “Yeah, she texted.” “Okay.” She handed Bridget the keys. Bridget wasted no time getting to Lia’s place. When she got there, there were cars and dirt-caked pick-up trucks parked up and down the street. She had to park around the block. Bridget walked to the door and rung the doorbell. Lia’s mother answered. She wore black and she looked much older than when Bridget had seen her earlier in the week. “I’m here to see Lia,” she said. “She’s in her room.” She led Bridget through a living room full of lumberjacks and their wives. Finally she got to Lia’s room and went inside. Lia knelt at her bed and she was still sobbing. She turned around and Bridget could see her red and puffy eyes. “Do you want Angela here with you, Lia?” asked Lia’s mother. Lia nodded. Bridget walked over and sat beside her friend and put an arm around her. “I’m here Lia. We’re best friends.” “Angela, my daddy died,” said Lia through sobs. She buried face into Bridget’s shoulder and wailed. Bridget swore in her heart that she would make the terrorist pay for this. If the terrorist was not responsible for spiking the trees that killed Lia’s dad, he probably knew them and she would make both killers regret they ever heard the name Bridget Addison. She was out for blood. She squeezed Lia gently in her arms and patted her softly on her back as she cried. It was late Saturday morning and tonight was the day of the senior prom. Bridget sat with Lia in her room trying to cheer her up. “Daddy looked forward to seeing me off on my prom date. I should call James and tell him I’m not going,” said Lia. “It won’t be right.” “You’re going and that is final,” said Bridget. She put her arm around Lia. “Besides, your dad would want you to go to prom.” “I suppose,” said Lia, “but you have to come to too.” “I don’t have a date,” said Bridget. No had wanted to go with her to prom because of the very public accident she had. Since Lia’s father had died only a few days before, the other students stopped teasing Bridget since she was Lia’s best friend, but Evan Fiscus was still taking Julia Grass instead of her. “That’s just an excuse,” said Lia. “It’s not. The prom committee made a rule that everyone has to have a date.” Bridget didn’t really want to go. Still it would pass the time before she could find Flower and have her lead her to the terrorist. Still that would not happen until then end of August. It was still the middle of May. There was one more week of regular classes and then finals week. School was almost over. “I’ll get you a date then.” Lia ran out of her room and into her bathroom and slammed the door. Bridget spent the time laying out Lia’s dress and other accessories on her bed. She had been trying since Evan left her to set Bridget up with a date, but even David Krouse refused. Lia had picked out a nice dress. It was not as dowdy as she expected a dress for Lia to be, but it also would not look like a satin feed sack strapped around her like a towel. She even had a little matching purse. “Okay,” said Lia, as she came out of the bathroom, “I got you a date.” “With whom,” she asked. “If it’s anyone from school with a bucket of pig’s blood, they’ll rue the day they messed with me.” “Pig’s blood?” asked Lia, “You suddenly got a whole lot of knowledge about geeky literature Miss Romance Junkie.” Bridget worried that she gave herself away again. Quickly she covered: “Well I thought Carrie was a romantic comedy. It didn’t end how I thought it would end.” “Well, anyway my dad’s boss said he would do anything for me. To make a long story short, his son just got home from college and he is taking you to prom.” “No,” said Bridget. “I don’t have a dress; I don’t have my hair done; and I don’t have anything to wear. Prom is tonight. Besides, I am worried about embarrassing myself.” “Yeah, we better get to the mall,” said Lia. She grabbed Bridget’s hand and dragged her out to the car. ### “I told you it’s too late to get a dress.” The clothes racks in the prom dress sections were sparse. The sales girl was busy consolidating the remaining dresses to a single rack. “I need a prom dress,” Bridget told the sales girl. “What size are you?” “Um, three, I think.” “I think that dress and that dress are both threes.” She pointed out a hideous green and yellow dress and a very lovely pink dress. “I’ll try on the pink one,” said Bridget as Lia lifted it up by its hanger. Lia twirled it around and smiled. “I told you we’d find a dress for you.” She looked at the dress and frowned. She held the dress to the sales girl. “This one has a big blue stain.” Sure enough, a blotchy ink spot covered the bottom of the dress. “Oh crap, the ink tag must have broken.” The sales girl took the dress and took it to the back room. “Now what do we do?” asked Bridget. She pointed at the ugly green and yellow dress. “You can get that one.” “Absolutely not,” said Bridget. “I am not wearing that ugly dress no matter what.” Lia pulled out her cell phone. “I guess I better call James and cancel.” She grabbed the phone away from Lia. “Fine, I’ll wear the dress.” She picked the dress up by its hanger and carried it into the dressing room. As she undressed, she called out to Lia. “You owe me for this.” She kicked off her shirt and pants and pulled on the dress. When she slithered in to the silky dress and looked in the mirror. She stuck out her tongue at her reflection in the mirror. “You had to fit perfectly, didn’t you, ugly dress?” She heard rattling at the door. “Do you have it on yet? Does it fit?” With reluctance, she opened the door and spun around for Lia. The sales girl got a weird look on her face when she glanced at them and Lia spun her back. “Your diaper is showing.” Lia walked around her and zipped up the dress. Bridget felt her cheeks pinken. “It’s not a diaper; it’s a pull-up,” she hissed. “Well, it’s covered now,” said her friend. “Fine,” said Bridget. “Unzip me so I can get dressed and go home.” “Does the dress fit?” “Yes, now unzip me,” said Bridget. As soon as Lia unzipped the dress, Bridget shut herself in the dressing room and took off the cursed garment. She pulled on her jeans and T-shirt and hung up her ugly dress. “I’ll take this one,” said Bridget to the sales girl. The sales girl blushed and didn’t look at Bridget during the entire time she rung the sale. Bridget could hardly wait to get away. When the transaction was finished, Bridget took her new dress and walked out of the store without waiting for Lia. When Lia caught up, she said, “If I have anymore incidents to send to Seventeen’s Tragic Proms, I Angela Murphy will hold you personally responsible.” Lia just laughed. “Don’t be so traumatic, Angela.” ### Bridget looked at her nails and sighed. The polish matched her dress, but it was the ugliest shade of green and yellow she had ever seen. “I look like a freaking dandelion,” she said. “And I really thank you for doing this for me, especially since your outfit didn’t work out,” said Lia. Her gorgeous red dress made her look almost heavenly. Bridget tried not to be too angry since she knew Lia had never got to be the hot friend with Angela around. Going to prom dressed in the outfit she was wearing would only be a little embarrassing. Every dress at her previous high school’s prom had to have been as hilarious as looking at her mother’s prom pictures had been to her. Who knew? Maybe the garish dress she was force to wear would look styling when she went back to look at it in the future while everyone else would look foolish. At least her hair was coiffed professionally. Lia looked beautiful and she hoped prom would be perfect for her. That was the only reason she had gone along with being dressed like a lawn pest. “Do I look okay,” asked Lia. “You look lovely,” Bridget said. “You look really good too,” said Lia, “and don’t worry your pull-up isn’t showing since you are zipped up.” “No mention of that when our dates get here.” As soon as the words left her mouth, the doorbell rang. “Ooh, someone’s here,” said Lia and walked to the door. She opened it and a man stood at the door. He dressed sharp, his brown hair was short and trim, and he was broad at the shoulder. He held a wrist corsage in his hand and he smiled. His tuxedo might have been a little tight and he had a light line that scarred his tanned face, but he was almost like a god. “I hope you are not James,” said Bridget. “I’m Derek Stevens,” he said. “You must be Angela.” “Of course it’s Derek,” said Lia. “You know who James is.” “I got you a corsage.” He held up a box. “I didn’t know what color dress you would wear, so I got red.” He looked at her dress and just shook his head. Bridget held out her hand as Derek slipped the corsage on her wrist. “Thank you and sorry about the dress. I bought it today. There is a reason why most girls don’t buy prom dresses at the last minute.” “I didn’t mean to imply--,“ he started. “I just hope you don’t mind how horrible I look,” Bridget said. “Stop gabbing and stand over there for pictures,” said Lia. She had her digital camera out and took pictures of the two of them. “Now hold each other tight.” Bridget felt chills go through her as she stared up at Derek Steven’s eyes as he held her for the picture. It was all she could do to contain her disappointment when he let go of her when the picture was taken. She felt glad for the protection of her pull-up as she was sure she felt slightly damp with the excitement of the embrace. You can’t be acting like a horny little school girl, she thought. The doorbell rang again. “That must be James,” said Lia and opened the door. Bridget recognized him from school. He wore glasses and was in their physics and pre-calculus class. She supposed she recalled Lia speaking to him at some point, but she didn’t think they were dating. “Your limo awaits, my dear,” he said to Lia and held out his hand for her to take it. “Oh cool, you rented a limo!” said Lia. “Not exactly,” said James. He led them out to a big black Ford Crown Victoria. “My dad got it for me at auction. They had about four or five they auctioned off. They used to be owned by the Feds.” He opened the door to let Bridget and Derek into the back seat and then opened the front door to let Lia in the front. “It looks like the inside of a cop car,” said Derek. He pointed to the metal divider between the front and back seat. “Sorry, I just got it today,” said James. “That can come off I think.” Bridget put her finger on some holes near the side window. “At least they took the bars off the back window,” she said. “Unto prom,” said Lia as the car began to move forward. “Yeah, unto prom,” said Bridget. She promised herself she would have a good time no matter what. ### James parked the car at the school and walked around to open the door for Lia. Bridget looked over at Derek. “Aren’t you going to go around and open the door for me?” He pulled on the door handle. “It won’t open.” Bridget tried to open her door and it was stuck as well. She tapped on the glass. James opened the door for Lia fine, and opened it for Derek. He flipped a switch on the inside of the door. “Oops, it has cop car doors.” At least they wouldn’t be stuck in the back seat of the car on prom night. The four of them walked into the gym together. The prom committee had decorated the place with crepe paper streamers and a flower-covered arch at the entrance to the gym. The photographer was set up in front of the arch, so there was a bit of a bottleneck getting into the gym. Confetti covered tables were placed beneath the basketball hoops and the center of the gym was the dance floor. Bridget blushed when she looked up on the stage and saw that one of the band members from the live rock band waved at her. “Is that your father’s band?” asked James. It was her father’s band. A girl’s father at prom was the dream of every high school kid, wasn’t it? Only if that dream was a nightmare. “I’m love prom so much,” said Bridget to Lia using her sarcastic voice. “Everything is working out perfectly.” “I wouldn’t mind having my father at prom, Angela,” Lia whispered. Bridget decided to change the subject before Lia’s makeup ran. “Let’s grab a spot at one of the table and sit down.” She looked over to their dates. “James, would you and Derek get us some punch?” Lia and Bridget went and sat down at the table and watched everyone dance. “Look,” said Lia, “there is Evan Fiscus and Julia Grass.” Julia hung on Evan’s arm as they walked across the dance floor. “It looks like she had to do last minute dress shopping too.” Julia wore the exact same dress as Bridget. It looked just as hideous on her as Bridget thought it looked on herself. “Now they’re coming over,” said Bridget. She hoped she would keep her promise to be nice. “Hi, Lia,” Julia said. “I’m so sorry about your father.” Julia took Lia’s hand in both of hers. “I’m glad you could still make it to prom.” Lia looked confused about Julia’s behavior. “She’s been really nice since Tuesday,” said Bridget. “Thank you,” said Lia. “Oh, Angela,” said Julia through a big fake smile. “I’m so mad at you. You stole my dress. I searched for weeks to find a dress that was unique and made me look beautiful.” “I’m sorry,” said Bridget, “I got it last minute and it and another dress with a big ink stain were my only choices.” She took some satisfaction in saying in not so many words that it was the last dress she would even want to be seen dead in. “I wasn’t going to go to prom, but Lia wanted me to, so I am here.” Julia gave no indication that she was insulted by Bridget’s comment. “You’ll have to introduce me to your date. I didn’t know you had gotten another one.” “It’s a friend of Lia’s from outside school,” Bridget said. “My dad’s boss’s son,” said Lia. “Well I can’t wait to meet him,” said Julia. “I bet she does,” whispered Lia. The band began to play a slow dance song and Evan must have sensed things were going to get out of hand between Julia and Bridget. “Julia, let’s dance.” He dragged her off to the dance floor. “Well that wasn’t awkward at all. Thank you for coming. I know you don’t like to dance and you would have to see Evan and Julia together. Thanks for putting up with it all,” said Lia. She pointed to the guys. “At least our dates are back.” “Here are your drinks,” said James. Derek and James handed them each a glass of punch and sat at the table beside them. “So do you think Julia got the most votes for prom queen, or do you think it is Marcy Phillips?” “I’m hoping Marcy. Even though Julia was being nice the past few days, she still is a ho,” said Lia. “Which one is Julia?” asked Derek. “That girl there,” said Bridget as she pointed at Julia, “the girl in the hideous green and yellow dress.” “Pot. Kettle. Black,” said James. “I think you look rather nice in that dress,” said Derek. “Then you have as good of tastes as Julia,” said Bridget. She giggled and put an arm around Derek. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” “How about we dance?” Derek suggested when the song changed to a Latin number. “You do know Salsa, I hope?” “Of course I do,” said Bridget. She looked over to Lia who was waving her hands in the negative and mouthing, “No.” “She’s going to embarrass herself,” Lia said to James. “More than before?” Bridget barely heard them. She got on the dance floor and put her right hand on his shoulder. He took her left hand in his and they began to dance. “I’m a little rusty,” she muttered. She had last danced with a man about a year before her incarceration. In prison there was no longer anyone to dance with so she hoped she did okay. Let’s see, she thought, right foot back, left foot up and down, right foot forward, left foot forward, right foot up and down, and left foot back. She hadn’t lost her touch at all. He knew a lot of turns and he changed them randomly as they danced. She spun as he turned her and before she knew it, she was laughing and smiling as they danced. A few more songs later and she was hot and sweaty. Bridget was glad for the thin layer of baby powder between the fabric of her dress and her skin. She didn’t have to smell like an ox. The song changed to a slower rhythm and she let him lead her back and forth across the dance floor. There wasn’t as many turns to this song, but she still followed his lead. At the end of the last song Derek laid her back in a dip. The music was so sensual she thought that he was going to kiss her. She looked at his lips and parted her own, ready to let him ravage her lips, but he just stood her up again and escorted her back to their table. “When did you learn salsa, Angela?” asked Lia. “I’ve never seen you dancing to anything but hip hop.” “The last song was bachata anyway,” said Bridget. At least her relationship with Edwardo Lozano for a few months back in college taught her something: Latin dance and running from Consuela Lozano. That bastard never told her he was married. “Besides, the guy does everything. All I have to do is move my feet and follow.” She smiled. “Where is Angela Murphy and what did you do to her,” said Lia. Bridget quit smiling. She had been tormenting her just a little, but she didn’t think she gave herself away. “What do you thing I read about in all those romance novels?” asked Bridget. “I’ll tell you: hot Latin lovers.” Lia laughed. “James, aren’t you going to ask Lia to dance?” Bridget asked. “Don’t go there, Angela. I can’t do all that stuff,” said James. “When there is hip-hop or slow dancing I can do that.” The band started to play Soulja Boy and James pulled Lia onto the dance floor. “You want to dance to this?” asked Derek. “Not a chance,” said Bridget. “I like you, but I am not doing that.” She pointed at Lia and James trying to jump as if they had a Superman cape when the part of the song that went, “then Superman da oh.” “Point taken,” said Derek. He looked over at Bridget. “You know you seem a lot more grown up then I imagined when Dad said I would be taking a high school girl to prom. I didn’t expect I would be wiping noses and changing diapers, but I thought there would be a lot more, ‘OMFG, LOL,’ type talk.” Bridget felt her cheeks burn at the mention of him changing diapers, and she hoped he didn’t expect she was really wearing diapers when he saw her face turn pink. “When did you graduate?” asked Bridget. “I assumed you would be a freshman or a sophomore in college.” “I got one more semester and then I’ll graduate in December.” He smiled. “I don’t really relish another winter in Massachusetts, but it will be a light load.” “Wow, I’m really a step down for you,” she said. “Is that Massachusetts as in MIT?” “Yeah,” he said. “I’m going to be an engineer and build things. I don’t want to be a hewer of wood and a drawer of water.” He frowned. “Lately Dad’s been wanting to give up running a lumber company. Too much looking over his shoulder for crazies like the people who set that trap for Lia’s dad.” “They affect my life too. Saw some protesting outside Burger King the other day,” said Bridget. She recalled seeing the protestor with Flower and the terrorist at the movies when she saw Star Trek. “Well there is a difference between peaceful protesters and the people that leave nails in trees to maim or kill lumberjacks.” “They are the same people or at least they hang out together,” Bridget yelled. “If you think the Meat is Murder crowd is any different from those tree spiking murderers, you are wrong.” Other students were staring at her. The song had just ended so they only heard her say the last three words, but she had drawn attention to herself. She shut up. Lia and James walked back since they were playing another Latin song. “I’m sorry, I was just upset because I love Lia,” Bridget told him. “Here you were thinking I was so mature and I had an outburst like that.” “I know how you feel,” said Derek and patted her on the back like she was a child. “Arguing with Derek, Angela?” said Lia. “Shame, shame.” She ran her finger along her other index finger as the gesture for shame. “We had a little disagreement,” said Derek. “We made up.” “Prove it,” said James. “Take her back out on the dance floor.” Bridget stood up and took his hands in hers. “Yes. Prove it.” He took her out on the dance floor for a little more dancing. Bridget stumbled a few times as she thought of the terrorist’s friend at the Burger King. She decided to concentrate on dancing so she could enjoy herself and let Derek spin her until she was dizzy on the next meringue song. ### “I got to go to the bathroom,” said Lia. “Come with me.” She dragged Bridget out of the gym and out into the hall toward the bathrooms. Bridget went in a stall and pulled down her pull-up and sat down to pee. “So I think I’m going to give up my virginity to James tonight,” said Lia from the next stall.” “Did you tell James you would do this?” asked Bridget. She didn’t think they were really that close. “Not yet,” said Lia. Bridget heard her start to pee. Bridget did the same. She hadn’t needed her pull-up after all, but she was not taking chances. The only wetness in her pull-up was from sweating so much. Dancing is sweaty work, dancing in a diaper, even if it is a cloth-backed pull-up is even sweatier. It wasn’t pee, so she pulled it back up. “So do you love him?” asked Bridget. “No,” said Lia, “but it’s prom. Everyone loses their virginity at prom.” “I would wait. What if James gets you pregnant or gives you a disease? I would hold out for a college boy.” Bridget sighed at the thought of letting Derek take her to bed. “You have seen Derek, right?” “Thanks, Angela,” said Lia, “you’re pretty smart. I guess I don’t want to end up a ho like Julia Grass.” “I don’t think she is losing her virginity at prom,” said Bridget. “That ship has sailed.” “Yeah, freshman year.” ### They got back from the bathroom just in time for the class awards. The class president got up on the stage and pulled out a clipboard. “Hey everyone, this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for, when we give the results for those who done the most to be remembered in this class.” The class vice president handed him a stack of envelopes. He pulled out the first envelope. “We have a boy and a girl for each category. When I call your name come up and stand by your counterpart for the class favorites dance.” He opened the first envelope. “Prom King is Evan Fiscus.” Evan walked up, took the plaque that was handed to him and walked down to stand in the middle of the dance floor. The class president took another envelope. “Prom Queen is Marcy Phillips.” Marcy squealed like a stuck pig and took her plaque and ran down to the dance floor and threw herself in Evan Fiscus’s arms. She gave Julia Glass a dirty look. “Now our Most Likely to Succeed students: the boy is James Duane and the girl is Lia Jones. Both of them did nothing but study, and you know how successful people like that become.” Bridget clapped as Lia and James went up to collect their awards. As Lia left the stage after getting her plaque she stuck out her tongue at the valedictorian Cindy Ericson who had thought she would be Most Likely to Succeed. “Now our high school is like many others where students try to impress one another with their clothes. Why do they do that? Because they know they will be awarded with the Best Dressed award. Daniel Crawford and Jana Smit come up to accept your award.” The two student ran up to the stage. Daniel Crawford, not only had a smart tux on, but the tux had tails. He also carried a top hat and a walking stick. Jana Smith wore a Renaissance-style dress. Her honey-brown hair cascaded down her back like loosely wound golden springs. Bridge thought she deserved the award. “Now we have our final award: the Most Embarrassing Incident.” Bridget froze. A few students glanced in her direction, but she thought they wouldn’t be that mean to bring up the accident that happened just before she became Angela Murphy. She hoped not. “This award goes to Darren Farling for his performance on the field at the homecoming game. Darren scored every single touchdown in the entire game. Of the five touchdowns he scored, only three of them were for East High. That my friends is embarrassing.” As Darren sheepishly stepped up to receive his award, all eyes went to Bridget. “Usually we tell the embarrassing story that is cause for this award, but everyone knows why you are getting this prize. Angela Murphy come up and get your plaque. Don’t hide or we will tell the story.” Bridget walked up and took the plaque out of the class president’s hand. He gave her a hug. “Thanks for being such a great sport,” he whispered. Bridget walked down the stairs to stand with Darren Farling. “Don’t pee on me, Accident Girl,” said Darren as he put his hand around her back to slow dance with her. The music started and Bridget began to follow his lead. “If I didn’t care about embarrassing my date, I would,” Bridget said. “I think he would be embarrassed to even be here with you,” Darren said. He turned her hard, almost making her lose her step. Bridget just glared at him. It felt like the song was going on forever. Would the humiliation ever end? As soon as the dance was over she returned to her table were Derek was sitting. “So, what was this embarrassing story they were talking about?” “I’m sorry,” she sniffled and thought about how grossed out he would be if he knew she still had accidents. “Everyone was too embarrassed to go to prom with the girl that had that embarrassing incident,” she explained. “If I tell you, you won’t like me anymore.” “Okay,” said Derek. “I guess it must be pretty traumatic if you feel that way. I won’t pry.” Bridget took a Kleenex and dabbed her eyes, careful not to wipe away her makeup. “My makeup’s not too smeared, I hope.” “It’s fine,” he said. The band started to play another slow song. It was Elvis. “Want to dance?” “Yes,” she said, “but only fools rush in.” “I can’t help it,” he said as he led Bridget to the dance floor. He held her close and they slowly danced. The song was so soft and Elvis’s voice just made her want to be closer to Derek. She couldn’t help it and threw both arms around his neck, squeezing her body against Derek’s on the dance floor. His hands lowered themselves to the small of her back, but it didn’t go any lower. Derek was too much of a gentleman. Bridget had counseled Lia to not give up her virginity to James tonight, but just like Elvis, she couldn’t help falling in love with Derek. If he asked her, she would let him have sex with her. She thought of the pull-up under her dress and how she would hide it when she let Derek undress her. It somewhat took her out of the mood, but the song had ended and the music had stopped. The class president got back on the stage and said, “I want to thank the prom committee and senior class of 2009 for an excellent prom. Drive home safely everyone and thank you for making the class of 2009 the best. Derek walked her back to the table where she retrieved her purse. “Wow Angela,” said Lia, “I couldn’t dance that sensual with my dad on stage.” She held her hands over her eyes and turned around. Bridget was torn between looking up at the stage for her father and comforting her friend. She chose the stage. The lights obscured the band from seeing what was happening on the dance floor, so she felt safe. She noticed Derek was looking up at the stage as well. She turned and put an arm around Lia. “I’m sorry,” Lia said. Her mascara was running. Bridget took a Kleenex from her purse and wiped away her tears. “I’ve ruined my makeup.” “It lasted through most of prom,” said Bridget. “Let’s just smile for another half hour and well be home and we can stop pretending to have fun.” “Oh, I did have fun, Angela,” she said. “I just know my daddy’s not going to be at home worrying about me that makes sad.” She started to walk out with Derek and James. “I’ll admit I had fun too,” said Bridget. “Angela, we forgot our plaques!” Bridget and the guys waited as Lia ran back to the table and retrieved the awards. She handed Bridget her plaque. “We don’t want to lose these.” “You do remember how I won this, don’t you?” “Oh,” Lia said. She looked a bit embarrassed. “Thank you for going to prom with me, Lia” James said. “And thank you for taking me,” Lia replied. The group walked back to James’s car and they all piled in. As James started the car, Bridget held up a hand and said, “Home James, and don’t spare the horses.” Tonight certainly hadn’t been ruined for her. It had been embarrassing at times, but she was glad she came even if she held a plaque in her hands that she earned by pooping and peeing her pants. The only thing she would really regret about this night was not sleeping with Derek. Bridget woke in a wet diaper. She thought that with school over and the ability to relax, she would wake up dry, but she had another bad dream. Lia’s father had starred in last night’s nightmare. She couldn’t get the image of a chainsaw chain catching on a spike and breaking. The news had done a special on eco-terrorists and then showed video of what a chainsaw would do to a mannequin. She could still see the plastic being torn apart and imagined that happening to a person. Bridget ripped her diaper off angrily and threw it into her waste basket. If only she could find Flower again. She only had the malnourished hippie’s word that she was going to Washington State University. It was a big campus and she hoped she could track the girl down. She still did not know how she would be able to interrogate the girl, but she would find a way. Until she could get to college, she would have to make do with her new mom and dad. She walked into the bathroom and took a shower. The water ran down her back and she turned and let the spray soft massage her shoulders and run down her breasts in sudsy rivulets. She scrubbed her skin and paid special attention to her diaper area. In prison, she had taken her showers before bed, but with the bedwetting she had no choice, but to take them in the morning. Since school had ended, she still got up and took her shower because she didn’t want to run around the house in a wet diaper. She stepped out of the shower and dried off. She smiled at the fact that the students who hadn’t got an A for the semester in a given class were probably sitting in school taking their final. Bridget felt a bit of cruel satisfaction that Julia Grass had to take all six of her finals while Bridget had the last few days off. She had planned to do something great today if only to tell Julia what she was doing while Evan’s ho was taking an English final. She pulled on jeans and a T-shirt with a picture of a covered wagon that said You Have Died of Dysentery. She thought it was cute when she saw it online and bought it with her mother’s credit card after her doctor’s visit hadn’t gone as planned. She knew none of her high school friends would get the joke but she didn’t care. She had played the game when it first came out and she had thought it was pretty advanced at the time. She came down the stairs and found strange people sitting in the living room. “Hi Angela,” the lady said. “We came in late last night to see your graduation.” The older man sitting next to her smiled. “I knew you would get pretty good marks. Your mother said you were number four in your class. Pretty good in a class of three hundred and twenty. I was number three in my class but we only had four students.” Bridget’s mother walked in. “Do you want decaf or regular coffee?” She looked at Bridget. “Oh, you’re up. Don’t just stand there. Say hello to your grandpa and grandma.” “Hello,” Bridget said. She sat in the chair next to the couch where they were sitting. She folded her hands in her lap and tried to make polite conversation. It was more of Angela’s friends and family to fool. She longed for college to start so she could be herself and stop pretending to be Angela except in name only. “What time do we need to be at your graduation ceremony?” asked Grandpa. “It starts at 5:30, so I would get there by five,” said Bridget. “I think I have to be there even earlier for rehearsal.” She dreaded the rehearsal because Julia had texted last night that there truce was over and it was fair game to tease her again. Bridget had opted out of signing up to go to the party after the graduation ceremony because she knew Julia would resume the teasing. “Tell Grandma and Grandpa where you will be going for college,” her mother said. “WSU,” said Bridget. “I’m majoring in double E.” “I thought you were going into teaching,” said Grandma. “That’s what you told me when you visited during spring break.” According to her grades, Angela was so smart; yet Bridget was not going into teaching. Not that she wanted to knock teaching. Bridget had the benefit of two years in electrical engineering before she gave up school due to money issues. Oh course she chose engineering. “I just changed my mind,” Bridget answered. “I know it will take a lot more math classes, but I did well in math.” “What ever you do, Angela,” said her Grandmother, “you will do well.” “Thank you.” “Breakfast is ready,” said Bridget’s mother. Her mother outdid herself with bacon, omelets, and pancakes. Bridget smiled as she took her place at the table. She sat between her grandparents and enjoyed her dinner. When dinner ended her mother cleared the table and her father stood by the back door. “Since Angela is graduating she is almost all grown up,” her father said. “I love you Angela and I got you a gift to start out your adult life. Come on. It’s in the garage.” He led her, her mother, and her grandparents to the garage and opened the garage door. Inside was a black car. It was exactly like James’ car, but it looked a lot nicer. The paint was shiny black, not scarred and rust trimmed like the ride she rode to prom. “It’s a 1984 Ford Crown Victoria Police. It was the nicest one.” Her father put his hand on the hood. “There is not a spot of rust on this one.” He opened the hood and Bridget gazed at the engine that looked like it barely fit in the car. “A 5.8 liter engine and a Variable Venturi carburetor.” The car was well taken care of. Bridget opened the door and sat in the driver’s seat. She looked into the back seat, expecting to see the metal barrier dividing front and back seats, but it wasn’t there. In fact, she couldn’t tell from the inside that it had even been a cop car. She stood up and gave her dad a hug. “Thank you.” “Now it uses quite a bit of gas,” he said, “but it has power.” “I love it,” said Bridget. “And I love you and want you to be safe.” He walked around to the passenger side and sat down. “Let’s go test this out. Get in.” “Yes sir.” She sat back down in the driver’s seat and her dad handed her the keys. “We’ll be back in about an hour,” he said to her mother and grandparents. Bridget started the car and smiled as the engine roared to life. “It purrs like a kitten,” her father said. Bridget put the car into gear and stomped on the gas. “Only if the kitten is a lion,” she said as the car squealed out of the garage and onto the street. She slowed down to the speed limited and drove normally. When she got to the highway her dad had her go I-90 east. After about twenty minutes they crossed into Montana. “Open it up,” her dad encouraged her. Bridget stomped the gas and soon had the car going ninety. At one stretch of road she got it up to one hundred, but she didn’t dare get it faster. She slowed down to seventy-five and turned the car around. “It’s supposed to get up to 130, but you’ll never find anywhere straight enough. Let’s go home before your mother worries.” Bridget drove the rest of the way home at seventy-five and drove home smiling. She would have fun with this car. She just knew it. ### “Wow,” said Lia. “It’s just like James’s car, only it looks like someone took care of it. Oh, and it is not so police inside.” It was true. Bridget’s dad had removed all trace of there being a cage in the back. He even filled the holes where the bars had been screwed. “Well, are you ready to do this?” Bridget asked as she adjusted her graduation cap and honors stole. “Yes. I just wish our school colors were not orange and blue,” said Angela as she adjusted the blue tassel over her orange cap. “I know what you mean,” said Bridget. “Well we better hurry. If we are late for rehearsal they might not let us walk the stage.” Bridget drove to school and parked her car in the parking lot next to James’s similar car. There was a marked difference in quality although James had removed the divider in between the front and back seats. Still it was not as shiny or as nice as Bridget’s. She didn’t dwell on that too long. She went into the gym and started rehearsing for the ceremony. Bridget had some relief that Julia Grass wasn’t there. She was only a junior, so she had a whole other year before she could graduate. She was probably right about Evan finding a new girlfriend in college. Still he could also be a jerk too. He proved it when they were giving a break. “So, Angela,” he said, “I’m lucky I come before you in the alphabet. I wouldn’t want to slip if you pee on the stage.” “Evan,” said Lia. She gave him a mean look. “Besides, I am in the top ten, so we go first,” said Bridget. “If I leave a trail, you can still trip.” She smiled with an evil grin. “Besides, no one here will see me again. What do I have to lose?” “That’s disgusting,” he said before walking away. “You do have a pull-up on, don’t you?” asked Lia with a whispered voice. “Nope,” she said. “I have on a full diaper. I am not taking any chances. Besides, I got this long gown to cover up with and underneath I have on a long dress so no one will know.” “You are enjoying this too much,” Lia said. “Only the part about making Evan uncomfortable.” “Alright everyone, take your seats and get ready for the ceremony.” ### The room got hot and the whole area where senior class sat was alight from the overhead lights. Bridget tried to look behind her for Lia, but couldn’t see. She gave up and looked up in the stands for her parents and grandparents. They were not around either. The announcer called the gym to order and Cindy Ericson got up and did her valedictorian speech. It was really good. At the close of her speech the teachers motioned the front row to stand up and walk to the stage. Cindy left the podium and took her place at the front of the line and the names were given as they walked the stage. “Cindy Ericson”, “James Duane”, “Peter Schuster”, and then finally they called her name: “Angela Murphy.” She walked the stage, shook the principal’s hand, took her diploma, and stood beside Peter. When the first ten names were called the principal put yellow cords on the shoulders of the top ten students. Then they went and sat down as the other students names were called and they got their diplomas. Bridget smiled to herself. At least the high school portion of her new life was over. Three and a half weeks of high school was too much to relive, especially if the first day that time started with a stinky poop in her panties. At least she didn’t have to take finals. She sat and watched the rest of the students graduate and was glad the whole thing was over. Her next step was college. After the ceremony Grandma wanted to take them all out to eat so they went to have dinner. Grandma was happy about the dress that Bridget had chose. It was the dress she wore to church that first Sunday. They ate at a nice steakhouse. Bridget ordered the New York strip. It tasted much better than her last meal in prison had tasted. Tonight was great and she would be closer to her goal of finding the terrorist. Not here in the steakhouse: she doubted the terrorist would set foot in a steakhouse unless he were attacking it. She would be going to college and could get the terrorist through Flower. The evening ended and Bridget got undressed to go to bed. She had to put a new diaper on because she had to pee and the tapes tore the plastic of the diaper when she took it off to use the bathroom before bed. She went to sleep and her dreams were almost peaceful. She had the dream again, so that interrupted her sleep, and of course she had wet the bed in her sleep. She tried to be upset about it, but she had gotten used to waking up wet. She’d never like it, but it wasn’t too bad. Bridget put her packed bags in the trunk of her car and closed the lid. “All ready to go,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” asked her mother. “For freshman orientation you can have a parent with you.” She knew Flower might be there and wanted to get info on what she was up to. There was no way she could get time to lean on Flower with her mother there. “I need to do this on my own. I know there are things you can help me with and I have a cell phone if I need anything, but it’s time I do a few things by myself.” “Do you have enough supplies?” her mother asked. “You’ll be staying overnight for two nights.” “Mother.” She looked around to make sure no one heard, but it was only her mother and father there. She was embarrassed, but was sure her mother hadn’t mentioned the word “diaper.” “Well drive safe,” said her dad, “and try to keep it under one hundred.” Bridget smiled back at him. “I’ll try.” She hopped in her car and drove toward Pulman, Washington. At last she would be able to make some headway on her search to get the terrorist. Her lips curled in anticipation of how she would make the terrorist pay. During the few hour drive, she thought about different punishments she would give the terrorist. Maybe she would soak him in diesel fuel and light it, or maybe she would strap him down to a gurney and inject poison in his veins. Whatever she decided, she could only do one thing to him because she knew it would be fatal. When she got to her destination she parked where her orientation packet said to park. She parked beside a red Eclipse and got out to get her stuff. “Hi. I’m Ami Kent,” said the Asian girl getting out of the Eclipse. She dressed and talked like an American so Bridget guessed she wasn’t an international student. “Are you here for freshman orientation too?” Bridget asked. “Yeah,” said Ami. “Of course I am.” She pulled a large bag out of the passenger seat and smiled. “No parents and no boyfriends. Nothing will stop me now,” she said. Too hyper, thought Bridget, but she responded anyway. “Well I want to get settled in before everything starts,” said Bridget. “Good idea,” she said. “Let’s go in.” The dorm they would be staying in for the next few days was the Stephenson Complex. It was not by any mean luxurious and Bridget knew that. She didn’t care. She wanted to get in her dorm, find a place to hide her diapers, and get a little downtime before they rounded them up for orientation. “So why didn’t your parents come with you?” Bridget asked. “I mean mine didn’t come either, but I had reasons for wanting to be alone.” “My dad had a multimillion dollar business deal he had to deal with and my mother is too sick to come so I am here alone.” She shrugged. “I’ve been doing everything for myself anyway and Dad’s got money so I manage.” She looked at Bridget struggling with her bags. “So what’s your story?” “I just wanted to be alone,” said Bridget. “I love my parents, but they can be a little overbearing sometimes.” “I understand. Mother is overbearing when she isn’t pretending to be sick so Dad with pay attention to her.” They arrived at the door to the door and walked over to a table that was set up there. “Angela Murphy,” she said to the Resident Assistant looking over the list. “And Ami Kent.” She watched the girl struggle a bit and pointed at her name. “That’s A. M. I.” “You two can have 418,” said the RA. She handed them each a key and pointed to the stairs. ### “That was fun,” said Bridget as she pulled her stuff into the room and walked toward one of the beds. She worried for a second when she saw the plastic sheets, but both beds were equipped the same way so she knew they weren’t put there just for her. “Especially when that one guy asked us why we were taking the stairs after we already made it to the top.” Bridget opened a door in the corner of the room and looked inside. She expected a bathroom, but it was just a closet. It was a rather big closet, divided in two and it divided the dorm room into two branches of an L. It still did not afford much privacy, but it was more private than most dorms. “Where is the bathroom?” she asked. “I think it is down the hall?” said Ami. “Great,” said Bridget. “I’ll be right back.” She walked out the door and found the lady’s room. There were rows of showers, rows of toilets, and rows of sinks, which meant she would either find a way to change into her diapers quietly in her dormroom, or in the bathroom and then get to her dormroom without any noticeable crinkling. She did her business and returned to the room. It was only going to be two nights and Ami wouldn’t be her real freshman year roommate. “I’m settled in, I think,” said Ami. “Let’s go down stairs and mingle.” “Good idea,” Bridget agreed. She first took the time to make her bed first before going downstairs. If she had to get her diapers on in the room with Ami there, she wanted to do it under her covers. When they got downstairs, they ran into other freshmen in the dorms first floor lounge. Some were playing pool, others were sitting in comfortable chairs in front of a big screen TV. Still, others were chatting or flirting or other stuff. Since it was just orientation, most students had parents with them. Some looked at Bridget and Ami with a bit of jealousy. Theoretically, it was almost college, and it was hard to impress other students with parents present. That would change when classes started the last week of August. Still that was a month away. “Hey Angela,” said a voice called to her. Bridget turned to see Flower standing there. “It’s pretty cool that you decided to come to WSU.” “Yeah,” said Bridget, “I decided at the last minute. I’m surprised I could get my FAFSA done in time.” “Oh, I hate filling out forms,” said Flower. “So much paper going to waste. At least I could fill them out online and not hurt trees.” She wore a green t-shirt that showed a tree. It said, “Hug a tree.” “It probably burns more carbon to run your computer, than it takes to fill out a paper form,” said Ami. Flower got an angry look on her face for a moment, but then smiled. “Well, I see my uncle. I should probably sit with him.” She pointed in the direction of the chairs in front of the TV. Bridget looked and saw the terrorist sitting calmly watching a show on the discovery channel and froze. Hot pee warmed the insides of her pull-up and she couldn’t focus on anything else. She was peeing so long she thought she was going to leak. Finally it stopped and she looked down at the legs of her blue jeans. Still dry, but she wondered for how long. Her pull-up felt saturated. “Excuse me,” she told Ami. “I left something in the room.” She turned and hurried toward the elevator and up to the room. Finally, in the safety of the elevator she felt the back of her pant leg. It seemed to be a bit damp and she almost panicked and decided to drive home. However, the elevator was mirrored and she was able to see the back of her legs. They didn’t look wet. She half smiled and decided she could do this. Once in the room she stripped from the waist down and began to clean herself with some wipes. She got out a new pull-up and pulled it on. She was tempted to put on her night diaper and hide it under a skirt, but Ami and Flower might notice if she changed clothes. Instead, she pulled up the jeans she had been wearing over the pull-up. She felt some relief that she hadn’t leaked, but it had been close. Tomorrow she would wear her long skirt and Depends. She carried the wet pull-up to the trash inside the common bathroom and started downstairs. Today, however, she had to get back to the orientation session. It was supposed to start at 1:00 and it was already 1:05. She hurried back down to the lounge just as everyone was filing out for the campus tour. “Took you long enough,” said Ami. “That creepy skinny girl kept asking where our room was. She wanted to look for you.” She imagined Flower walking in on her as she was changing herself. “What did you tell her?” “I certainly didn’t give her the room number.” “Good,” said Bridget. She had plans for Flower, but she didn’t know how to get her alone without the terrorist. Maybe Ami should have told her to go up and find her, but someone else would have gone looking for the two of them and Bridget wasn’t sure how she would interrogate Flower. She didn’t think water boarding would work and besides, she still didn’t google how to do it. The tour of the campus took over an hour. They walked from building to building while the campus ambassador droned on and on about the different buildings and what went on inside them. “And this is the Engineering Building where most of the engineering students have classes. Bridget looked in the window and wondered what else would be going on in the class. She looked over at Flower who was standing with her uncle. At the sight of the terrorist, she had another little accident. It was just a trickle this time since she had completely emptied herself with her just before the tour. Her cheeks burned and she looked around to see if anyone noticed. “Just don’t look at him,” she whispered. “Pretend he’s not there.” Her pull up was mostly just damp and did not overwhelm the absorbent material at all. “You okay” asked Ami. “You look a bit flustered.” “I’m just a bit warm,” she said. Her face did fell warrm, but it was from the heat of her blushing, not the weather. “Now we are going inside this building and we can start orientation,” said the tour guide. The rest of the day was spent in a boring lecture hall. There were presentations about student life, campus rules, and diversity training. Where she was seated she couldn’t see the terrorist though. She wasn’t constantly dribbling anymore either. Pretending he wasn’t there was her best bet if she wanted to win. Finally they were dismissed. “I’m glad that’s over,” said Ami. “There are two more days of this,” said Bridget. She looked over her orientation schedule. “I wonder why they need three days or orientation.” “Worthless lectures about anorexia, racism, and acceptance,” said Ami. “Well the rest of the time will be with our advisors and team building exercises and stuff,” Bridget said. “Although your creepy, thin friend must not need the anorexia lecture,” said Ami. “She was nibbling on stuff from her lunch bag all day. She’s probably bulimic.” “She’s a vegan,” said Bridget. “She must eat a lot, but nothing of substance.” “Well speaking of food, they led us to the cafeteria,” said Ami. As soon as they returned to the Stephenson complex, they were led into the cafeteria. Bridget and Ami heaped their trays full of food. Today they were serving chicken and Jello. “I don’t think those two foods go together.” “I don’t care,” said Bridget. She set her tray on the table and picked up a drum stick and started to eat it. “It’s good enough.” Flower came by and set her tray on the table. She only had Jello on her tray. “I can’t believe you two are eating that much chicken. You know they live their entire lives in tiny cages and they can’t turn around.” Ami took a bit of her chicken breast and swallowed. “Not true. They’ll live some of their lives in my stomach. “So you are going to fill up on just Jello,” asked Bridget. “Yes,” answered Flower. “I don’t eat food from animals or animal products. Jello is made from fruit.” She spooned a bite of Jello into her mouth. “Hate to break it to you,” said Ami, in between bites of chicken. “Actually, I am happy to break it to you. Jello is made from the bones and skins of hogs. The only fruit in it is from the artificial flavoring.” “It is not,” said Flower. She took a tentative bite of her food. “That’s not nice,” said Bridget. “She hardly gets enough food as it is.” “I’m sorry I tied to trick you,” said Ami. She smiled. Bridget tried unsuccessfully to forget that Ami’s fingers were crossed. She was glad she loved meat. She ate fried chicken until she was full. She lost her appetite for Jello. “You going to eat that?” asked Ami as she pointed to her Jello. “No,” said Bridget. She scooped up Bridget’s Jello and ate it. “Sorry, but I am a hungry girl.” Flower finished her food about the same time. “A vegetarian diet really is healthier,” she said. “I can’t,” said Ami. “My Korean heritage requires me to eat meat, especially your cat or dog.” Flower got up and walked away quickly. “You don’t really?” asked Bridget. “Of course not; I was just messing with her,” Ami answered. “I’m born and raised in Seattle. I grew up on salmon filets, sea food, and Starbuck’s Coffee.” Bridget giggled. “Just don’t scare the poor girl away. I need to find out something from her first.” “Okay, I have another confession to make,” said Ami. “What’s that?” “I don’t have a Korean heritage. My great grandfather came to Seattle from China.” Bridget giggled again. She looked around and Flower was nowhere in sight. After supper Bridget spent the time mingling with others students. She and Ami were they only girls she found that were in engineering. A lot of the freshmen hadn’t even picked a major, which shocked and appalled Bridget. Bridget knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to take electrical engineering as a major and actually finish this time. Thanks to Angela’s parents money would not stand in her way. She hurried up to her room. Ami wasn’t there yet, so she used the time to diaper herself for bed. She didn’t know when Ami would walk in, so she changed herself on the floor of the large closet. There was no air conditioning in the Stephenson Complex and the evening was hot. She just put a T-shirt and gym shorts on over her diaper and went to sleep. It was funny trying to sleep at night in a strange place. It’s not the same. The bed in the Murphy house where she slept had felt strange the first week or so and this place would take getting used to as well. Any bed was still better than the cot she slept on in prison before she became Angela. Dreams came to her again that night, but it seemed too real. There were dead children. There was Lia’s father’s death. There was the terrorist. He entered her dream and just laughed at her as franticly tried to steer the truck away from the middle school. She felt the needle enter her arm in the death penalty and then she woke up in the woods. Lumberjacks were coming down the trail with chainsaws to cut the trees, but the terrorist had booby trapped them. Frantically she tried to pull the spikes from the trees with a crowbar, but the crowbar turned to rubber in her hands. Instead she tried to warn the lumberjacks what the terrorist had done but she couldn’t talk or make a sound from her throat. When the lumberjack started cutting a tree, she finally was able to yell out a warning, but it was too late. The chain saw went flying and hit her on the head. She woke up screaming just as a pillow hit her in the head. The sheets were wet and sweaty and twisted around her. Her shirt had ridden up and her shorts had come down exposing her diaper. “What the freak,” asked Ami. “Do you always scream when you wake up?” She walked over to retrieve her pillow. Bridget looked down make sure her diapers were covered, but the sheets were so twisted she couldn’t cover up before Ami discovered the juvenile garment she wore. “Is that a diaper?” asked Ami. “Most people stop wetting the bed by college age, Angela.” She paced back and forth across the room. “This is just gross. Cover up.” She grabbed some clothes and her toiletry bag to run to the bathroom. Bridget got up and stood between Ami and the door. “Listen, I can’t help it,” she said. “I went through a very stressful situation last year. I have nightmares every night and it’s horrible.” Tears came to her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying, but it couldn’t shut out the tears. “You have to promise not to tell anyone.” “It’s still gross,” said Ami. “Maybe you want to take a shower because you smell like pee.” “Do you promise?” asked Bridget. “I’m not asking you to refrain from teasing me; I’m just asking that you not tell anyone about this. It is so embarrassing.” “Okay,” said Ami. “I promise.” She looked toward the door. “I got an embarrassing problem too. I wasn’t counting on the common bathroom. I hate public bathrooms and...” She looked around. “It’s early enough. Can you guard the bathroom door while I go. I promise I will keep your secret.” “Okay, but we better hurry.” She went into the closet and put on her robe. She also grabbed the outfit she planned on wearing for the day and her bag of toiletries. Before she came out, she stripped off her diaper and rolled it up. She put it in a plastic bag and wrapped it in her towel. “I’m ready,” Bridget said. “Let’s hurry,” Ami said. She put one hand over her butt for a second before they went into the hall. ### “Thank goodness no one is in there,” said Ami. “Wait by the door and please don’t listen to anything.” Bridget stood in front of the doorway feeling foolish. She smelled herself: a mix of sweat and pee. Her hair felt matted and gross and her t-shirt stuck to her skin where she had soaked it with her sweat. She also had the wet diaper and new diaper hidden in the folds of her clothes and towel. It was only a matter of time until someone discovered her holding them. She almost screamed when a hand tapped her shoulder. “I’m done,” said Ami. “You can come in now. Ami’s face had turned bright red. “It’s so embarrassing. I overate yesterday.” Bridget hurried into the bathroom, deposited her used diaper into the garbage and hopped straight into the shower. She had just gotten wet when Ami called from the next shower stall. “On the bright side, the water is hot. I expected it to be cold,” she said. “One thing went right today,” said Bridget. She let the water rinse her pee and sweat down the drain. She rubbed the shampoo in her hair and let the lilac smell cover the grossness she felt every morning. When she was finished she dressed in a toilet stall, this time in her diaper and skirt. She was not taking a chance with leaking today. She finally came out and brushed her teeth at the sink. Ami was just finishing flossing when Bridget came out. “Ready for another day?” asked Ami. “The schedule said we have to take math, English, and writing placement tests. We should get a good breakfast first or they will put us in dummy classes.” “I guess you are right.” Bridget dragged her comb through her wet hair. She winced a bit as a tangle got caught in the teeth, but then had it under control. Angela’s hair was longer than her old hair had been and it was much harder to take care of, but she liked how it looked and had never cut it. Ami spent a longer time on makeup than her, so Bridget was able to finish at relatively the same time. “Ready for food?” asked Bridget. “Of course,” Ami replied. After dropping their stuff off at the room, they took the elevator downstairs for an early breakfast. ### It was bad enough that Bridget couldn’t cross her legs while wearing her diaper; it was even worse she couldn’t drop her hand in between her legs like she could if she were wearing pants. She bit her pencil and tried to concentrate on solving an equation. She wished she’d had just worn her pull-up and took chances that it might leak. She also wished she had gone to the bathroom after the English placement exam or even before the writing placement exam. Of course the bathroom had been full of other girls and she hadn’t wanted them to hear her diaper. She hadn’t had time between exams to go up to her room, and even if she had, she couldn’t get the privacy she really wanted. It was starting to get urgent and she was only fifteen minutes into her placement exam. She was tempted to give up, but that wouldn’t work either. She was only a third of the way through and needed to get through this exam or she might be put in remedial classes. That was three extra credit hours and hundreds of dollars and besides, she knew the material. She imagined she felt wetness in her diaper, but she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t feel anything come out. She wondered what would happen if she just got up and went to the restroom. Would they let her back in to finish the test? She didn’t want to take the chance. The proctor went up to the board and erased the 45 that was written on the board and wrote 40. She was running out of time. What would she do if she peed her pants? She sighed. It was not like her diaper wouldn’t hide it, but she had never just wet herself on purpose. It was always an accident. The terrorist caused those. She caused this herself by not using the toilet when she had a chance. She tried to concentrate on her math, but her bladder kept signaling that it wanted to be empty. The proctor changed the 40 to a 35 and she decided that it would only be a one time thing. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine she was on the toilet and relaxed. The familiar feeling of uncontrollable wetness streamed into her diaper. She just stared ahead and hoped it would stop before she overwhelmed the diaper. It did stop and the thirsty material of the diaper did its job. She tried to ignore the wetness against her skin as she finished the last bit of the test. She finished with moments to spare and went straight to the bathroom. As soon as she got in of the stall she took of her skirt and diaper and sat down on the toilet. She was completely empty, but her skin was wet. She just wiped off with toilet paper and grabbed a clean pull-up from her purse since she hadn’t brought an extra diaper. She pulled it on and rolled up the dirty diaper. Before exiting the stall, she checked that the coast was clear and then went and threw the old diaper away. She washed her hands and had just deposited the used paper towel into the trash over her old diaper when Ami walked in. “Oh, hi, Angela,” she said and rushed past her into the stall. Bridget could hear her fumbling with her clothing before sitting and starting to pee. She came out soon afterward. “How do you think you did on the tests?” asked Bridget. “I think I did okay,” she said. “Just wish the test wasn’t so long. I almost wish I would have stolen one of your diapers. I had to pee so bad.” Bridget blushed not only at the mention of her diapers, but also at the thought of having used one during the test. “About that,” she said. “You did promise you wouldn’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to find out by mistake.” Flower walked in. “Hi. How were your tests?” “Especially her,” whispered Bridget. ### The three walked to the cafeteria for lunch. “I wonder if they have anything healthy for dinner today,” said Flower. She gazed at the menu and smiled. “Cool,” she said, “they have portabella mushroom burgers.” “What’s that?” asked Ami. “It’s like a hamburger, except they have a portabella mushroom instead of the meat.” They went through the line pretty quickly. Ami grabbed a regular cheeseburger. “A little meat might help you,” said Ami. “You’re too skinny and your skin has an unhealthy paler to it.” “Humans beings were made to eat only fruits and vegetables,” said Flower. “You don’t know what healthy even looks like.” “Will you two knock it off?” Bridget said. “Let’s just sit down and eat without arguing. They chose a table and Bridget started on her cheeseburger. “So what is on the agenda this afternoon?” asked Ami. “Well, it says there is a presentation by intramurals and the student activities center,” said Flower. “I am hoping there will be an environmental club or something.” “Are your whole family vegetarians or green?” ask Bridget. This was the perfect chance for interrogation. She leaned forward in her seat ready to listen. “Not really,” she said. “My uncle has been a vegan as long as I’ve known him. I started in seventh grade. My parents were supportive though.” “So this uncle of yours: did you always hang out with him more than your own parents? I saw that he came with you for orientation and I saw him with you when we met at the mall.” “No, he just lives closer to WSU. I am from Seattle, so it would be a bit of a drive.” She took a bite of her mushroom burger. “So your parents must have busy jobs?” “Kinda,” she said. “My brother is starting college too and they are taking him to orientation at University of Oregon.” “So they ducked out of taking you?” asked Ami. Bridget and Flower both gave her a dirty look. “Get it? University of Oregon’s mascot is the Ducks.” Bridget couldn’t help but smile. She knew Ami was sarcastic. She didn’t know she was into puns. “Anyway,” said Flower. “I am staying with my uncle until school starts. He works for an animal rights group up in Spokane. I’ve been spending the summer volunteering.” “Oh,” asked Bridget. “What does that entail?” “So far I am just stuffing envelopes and walking door to door to get petitions signed. That kind of stuff.” “I kinda thought it would be a bit more exciting than that?” Bridget said. She didn’t know how to ask her if she was spiking trees or who did. She was about the same age as Angela, so she wouldn’t have had anything to do with the tanker incident. “Well anyway I am taking civil engineering so I can work on more sustainable ways to build things,” Flower said. “I actually can’t wait until school starts.” “I am taking Aerospace Engineering,” said Ami. “I am going to be working at Boeing.” “Nice goal,” said Bridget. “I’m in Electrical Engineering. Don’t know how that is going to work out for me. I do know that I will finish and get a degree this time.” “This time?” asked Ami and Flower together. Oops. She had misspoke again and in front of Flower. “I...uh...I said, ‘the first time.’” “Well I am only thinking about this time,” said Ami. “Tuition is high enough,” said Flower. She held up her water glass. “To getting through it the first time.” “Cheers,” said Bridget. ### There were quite a few clubs and intramural sports at Washington State. The presentation ran several hours and it was late in the afternoon before the presentation was done. One of the advisors came into the room. “Your placement tests were graded and I have the results to pass out too you. Also, I will pass out a slip of paper with your advising appointment on it. We will be making your class schedule there so have an idea of what classes you want to take and when. We will class you together for certain basic courses so your entire dorm floor is in the same section of English 101, for instance.” The names were called and each freshman walked up and took his or her advising appointment and test scores. When the name “Flower Childs” was called Flower ran up and got her scores. “Flower Childs?” Ami said and broke into giggles. “I thought Flower was bad enough.” “No wonder she is a screwed up hippie,” said Bridget. Not that having an eco-terrorist for an uncle screwed her up or anything, Bridget thought. Ami Kent was called and got her stuff. “I knew I would ace them all,” she said and showed off her score.” Flower stuck her tongue out at Ami. “I don’t have to take any dummy classes at least,” she said. “Now I’m sitting here without my scores and feeling all nervous,” said Bridget. She really didn’t want to take remedial math or English, especially since she was an honor student in high school. The would probably say all Idahoans were hicks if that happened. “Angela Murphy.” Bridget went up and got her scores. She looked at what she had: 95 in writing, 96 in English, and 92 in math. She frowned. It was the distraction of having to pee that had done her in on the math test. At least she still qualified to take calculus in the fall. That would have been embarrassing. She returned to her seat. “So what did you get?” Ami pulled her paper away. “That’s supposed to be private,” she said. “It’s not so bad,” said Ami as she pushed her scores back to her. “Some of these people are dummies. That girl over there has to take remedial math, writing, and English. At least she’s an art major.” “What do art majors do when they graduate?” asked Bridget. “I’ll give you a hint: would you like fries with that?” Ami giggled at her own joke. “That’s not so funny,” said Flower. “McDonalds kills chickens in the most inhumane way. If children knew how their food was killed they would not call what they eat Happy Meals.” “I’m suddenly not hungry,” Bridget said. “Want to go up to the room, Ami?” “I am sort of hungry,” said Ami. “Well I know a pizza place that delivers to the dorms.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to eat dinner with Flower tonight.” “Oh,” said Ami. “The two girls said their goodbyes and went up to the dorm room. Bridget woke up screaming again and wearing a wet diaper. At least the sheets weren’t twisted around her exposing her diaper to Ami again. Ami groaned. “I guess I am never going to get my beauty sleep with your nightmares.” She sat up and looked over at Bridget. “Did you have an accident again?” Bridget sighed. “I have terrible nightmares.” “Well, we may as well hit the showers,” said Ami. “You probably need one and I want one because it gets hot in here at night.” Bridget pulled on her robe and went into the closet to get her clothes and toiletries. She chose a pull-up instead of a diaper. She didn’t want to repeat the experience of wetting in the daytime and she was too embarrassed to change or make crinkling noises in the bathroom that could be heard by other girls. She collected her stuff just as Ami collected her own things. “I’m ready.” She and Ami went to the bathroom and they showered. It was early enough that it was still empty and they had the bathroom to themselves. Bridget dressed quickly and brushed her teeth before Ami came out and started to put on her makeup. “What’s on the agenda today?” “Just schedules,” Bridget answered. “I hope I get into the classes I want.” “We both did pretty good on the placement tests,” Ami said. “Yeah, that’s true only I did well on mine,” Bridget said with a smirk. She ran a brush through her hair and then scowled when it started to tangle. “Grammar Nazi.” Ami stuck her tongue out. “Serves you right. My hair is always straight and smooth.” Bridget brushed the tangles out and looked in the mirror. The pretty face that looked back at her was worth a bit of pain. It might not be worth the bedwetting and partial incontinence, but that would take care of its self when she got revenge with the terrorist. “I’m liking the long hair too much.” “Whatever.” “Feel like breakfast now?” asked Bridget. “Not really.” Ami rubbed her stomach. “I’m still satisfied from that pizza we gorged ourselves on last night.” “Well, maybe if we go downstairs the pool table will finally be free.” Bridget always had looked at the pool table with longing whenever she was escorted past the recreation area at the prison. They hadn’t let her mix with the other prisoners when she was incarcerated. She had spent most of the twelve years on death row alone. “Sure, sounds fun, Angela,” Ami said. They walked to the dorm’s rec room and sure enough, it was empty. The clock on the wall showed six o’clock, so most everyone else was in bed. Ami put the triangle on the table and began arranging balls. “I haven’t played pool since they dragged us all to some bowling alley after graduation so we couldn’t go to drunken parties.” “That actually sounds fun,” Bridget said. “Well you wake up wet no matter if you go to bed drunk or not,” Ami said. Bridget felt her face flush. She looked around to see if anyone had heard. “You promised you wouldn’t tell.” “Relax,” said Ami. “No one’s here. I’m not going to let anyone know your secret. Besides, you helped me out with my problem yesterday.” Bridget chalked her cue and aimed at the cue ball. “Well sorry. I guess I was just paranoid.” She pulled back her cue and broke. She smiled when the balls struck with a resounding crack. “I guess you’re stripes,” said Ami. Bridget sent four other balls into the pockets before finally missing the ten ball. “Thanks for getting your balls out of my way,” said Ami. She took her cue and only manage to get the two and seven balls in. Her third shot missed, but she managed to get the cue ball between the bumper and the eight and five ball. Bridget scowled. “Thanks for leaving me with a shot.” She had to bank off two different bumpers and didn’t even make the shot she was trying for. The cue ball rolled to a stop right in front of one of Ami’s balls leaving her an easy shot. Ami tapped the ball in and then tapped in a second and a third ball. She missed the forth ball. “Well at least I am tied with you. “Until now.” Bridget took aim and sunk the twelve. Her next shot sunk the ten. “Eight in the side.” She aimed at the eight ball, but the cue knocked it just short of the pocket. It rolled back toward the center of the table. “Man, that was an easy shot, Angela,” gloated Ami. She sunk a ball, but missed her next shot, leaving only the eight ball and one other solid on the table. “Hey can I play winner?” Bridget looked back and saw Flower standing behind her. Ami frowned. “Sure, I guess.” “Eight in the corner,” said Bridget. She took aim and sent her cue ball into the corner pocket. “Oops,” she said and handed her pool cue to Flower. “You did that on purpose,” said Ami. Bridget faced Ami and put a finger on her lips. “No, I didn’t. It was an accident.” Bridget walked away and sat in front of the TV while Flower and Ami played. She flipped through the channels, but never settled on anything to watch. After awhile Ami and Flower came over and sat down on either side of her. “Ami didn’t even give me a chance to win,” Flower complained. “What’s the secret to winning, Ami?” asked Bridget. “It’s my diet of bacon,” Ami answered. She smiled as Flower made a horrified face. “She’s just messing with you,” Bridget said. “So, are you excited about your advising session?” asked Flower. She seemed to be desperate to change the subject. “A little,” Bridget admitted. “I already know what classes I want to take,” said Ami. “Yeah?” asked Flower. “Well, I want to take the basic math, English, history, and engineering classes, but I think I can fit an art elective in there.” “I didn’t know you were an artist,” said Bridget. “Well, I like doing things with my hands,” said Ami. “The only art I’ve ever done is making protest signs,” said Flower. “Yeah, you were making protest signs in kindergarten with your finger paints when the rest of us were drawing stick figures,” said Ami with a sarcastic voice. “That doesn’t count,” said Flower. “I drew stick figures in kindergarten. I just never did any serious art.” “I think I am taking ballroom dancing instead of art,” said Bridget. “You dance?” ask Ami. “I like to dance too, but the boys at my high school weren’t really into dancing except for “Soulja Boy.” “What’s wrong with Soulja Boy?” asked Flower. “I like that dance.” “We kinda like dancing with boys, not watching them show off,” said Bridget. “Yeah,” said Ami. “Oh,” said Flower. “It that how you get boyfriends?” “Now you are beginning to understand, Flower,” said Ami. “However, you can’t expect a boy to survive on eating grass, so you need to learn how to cook him something good.” “I’m not going to sacrifice the lives of animals to give a boyfriend an impressive meal.” “Then bake him a cake. Or cookies.” “Can’t,” said Bridget. “She’s vegan, so eggs and milk are out. Right Flower?” She nodded. “But I can make tasty vegan meals. They are just as yummy.” Ami looked at her watch. “Oh crap. My advising appointment is in ten minutes.” Flower looked at the clock. “Mine too.” Bridget checked her schedule and sighed. “Well, see ya. Mine isn’t for another hour.” She watched as the two girls hurried out of the room and toward the administration building. ### Bridget walked around campus for a bit and then walked toward the administration building. She had got turned around a bit on her walk and only managed to arrive a minute before her appointment. Flower waved and she looked like she was ready to burst with excitement. “Angela, I got great news.” A mans’s voice called from the advising office, “Angela Murphy.” “I can’t talk. My appointment is now. Tell me after I get done.” She hurried into the advising office. “Do you have your schedule picked?” asked the advisor. “Yeah, I do,” said Bridget. “Let’s see.” Bridget laid her schedule on the table. “Well let’s see how we can fit those classes in.” The man typed her schedule into the computer in frowned. “That section is full.” “Do I have to pick something else?” asked Bridget. “Hold on.” He tapped a few buttons and then smiled. He turned his monitor toward Bridget. “How does this look?” Bridget looked at the screen. The classes where just rearrange so that she was in different sections from what she originally picked. There was only one eight o’clock class and it was on Tuesdays and Thursday’s. “That will be fine,” said Bridget. He printed out her schedule and handed it to her. “Now that your schedule is decided, are there any concerns or questions about the dorms or living conditions?” “Um, what do you mean?” “Do you need some special accommodation or something?” he asked. Bridget remembered that this was when she was supposed to ask if she could get a roommate that was also a bed wetter. Her mother told her to ask if that was possible and that likely it would be. However, she counted on having a female advisor and she couldn’t bring herself to tell this man that she still wet the bed like a three year old. “No, I don’t have anything like that,” she said. “Well, I guess we are done. We’ll see you in the Fall.” He stood up and held out his hand. She stood up and took it. “Welcome to WSU.” “Thanks.” She turned in left the room. Flower and Ami were waiting for her when she returned. “Guess what?” asked Flower. “You have news that you are bursting to tell me about,” said Bridget. “Well yeah,” said Flower. “We’re going to be roommates.” Bridget just stood there. Ami mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” “Well that sounds like fun,” said Bridget. She wondered how she could get close to Flower. Although she hadn’t counted on her being so annoying, it was probably the best way she could think of to find out more about this terrorist, especially since Flower would be part of any environmental group among the WSU student organizations. The three headed back to the dorm to pack. Freshman Orientation was over and in another month classes would begin. She had plenty of time to get her revenge with the terrorist. ### Bridget stood in front of her suitcase and stared at the stuff she had brought. She shoved her dirty clothes in her suitcase and then packed everything to go home. Ami smiled. “We’re taking the elevator down this time, right?” “We better,” said Bridget. “Oh, and sorry about you ending up with Flower as a roommate,” said Ami. “She is pretty annoying.” “I know, but it’s not that bad. Besides, she needs someone to keep an eye on her.” Bridget piled her suitcases together and sighed. “I hope she is nice about your nighttime problem,” said Ami. “I wasn’t planning on sharing that little factoid with her,” said Bridget. “Do you think she will find out?” “It depends on how restless you sleep.” Ami picked up her suitcase and reached for the door. “Yeah, she is going to blab to everyone.” “No,” said Ami. “I’ll speak to her about it if she finds out. I’ll put the fear of God into her.” “You’re a good friend,” said Bridget. “Thanks for being so good about my diapers.” “No problem,” said Ami. “It’s still gross, but I think that issue is minor compared to your nightmares.” She shivered. “I couldn’t stand nightly nightmares. I’d rather have to wear diapers twenty-four-seven than go through what you go through every night.” “Now that you put it that way,” said Bridget, “the bedwetting doesn’t seem as big a deal as I thought.” “Well, we better go downstairs. My mother will probably notice me since I was gone for three days.” “I hope that straightens itself out,” Bridget said. “I’m not betting on it,” said Ami. ### Bridget followed Ami out to the parking lot. They started packing their cars. Ami got in her car and drove away. Bridget waved. “Bye, Angela,” she heard. She turned and looked. Flower and her uncle were walking across the parking lot toward the terrorist’s Prius. Bridget felt the crotch of her pull-up get warm. She was peeing uncontrollably. She felt frozen in place until her bladder was empty. “Bye, Flower,” she said when she regained control of her voice. The pull-up caught most of the urine, but there was wetness seeping down the back of her legs. She looked down, but she seemed to be dry from the front. “I’ll see you in the Fall.” She waited until Flower and her uncle drove away in their Prius before she reached into her glove box for a trash bag and put it on the seat. She got into her car and drove away feeling soggy. That had not gone well. She looked at her gas gauge. At least she had enough gas to get home. Something had gone right. She imagined having to get out of her car, pump gas, and pay all while showing a pee stain in the back of her pants. She would have to make sure her bladder was more empty during the day if she ever expect to fight the terrorist. Bridget put on her pull-up and sighed. She had enjoyed wearing panties during the day again. She hadn’t seen or heard from the terrorist in weeks, except in her nightmares, and that meant no daytime accidents. She knew better than to go without protection at college and her bedwetting still required Depends to keep her sheets dry. She was leaving for college that day. She pulled her jeans up over her padded bottom and pulled on a t-shirt diagramming the rules to play rock-paper-scissors-lizard-Spock. She picked up the last of her things to take to her car. When she walked down the stairs, her mother met her. “Angela,” her mother said. “You got everything packed?” Bridget nodded. “Do you have enough supplies?” “Yes.” She blushed. Even though she had lived as Angela for five months, she still never got used to thinking of the Murphy’s as her real parents. The bedwetting really embarrassed her. So far the only ones that knew about that were her parents, Lia, and Ami. But of course everyone at her high school knew about the embarrassing accident she had, or rather Angela had, before Bridget found herself not in her own body as a condemned inmate, but in a high school student who just had a messy and public accident. Nobody could know about that. If anyone suspected, Bridget feared they might try to kill her for the crime the terrorist had framed her for. “Well Lia is outside,” her mother said. “Oh thanks,” said Bridget. She carried her last bag to her black Ford Crown Victoria and put it in the passenger seat. “Are you going to say goodbye,” asked Lia. She stood beside the car and frowned, with lips twisted in a pout. “Sure, Lia.” She stood to face her friend. “I know we were supposed to be roommates, but things didn’t work out.” “I know. You had to go to WSU instead of University of Idaho.” Lia frowned. “I’m over that. We are still friends. I just wanted to see you off before you go and to let you know I am not mad at you.” Bridget smile faded. If Lia told her that she was after the man who might be responsible for the death of her father in his tree spiking death, then Lia would be wanting to come to WSU with her, not wanting her to go to school is Moscow, Idaho. “So have you heard about your new roommate yet?” She nodded. “Her name is Flower. I met her at orientation. She seems pretty weird.” “Did you tell her about--“ “No,” said Bridget. “I don’t know how long I can hide that I wear diapers to bed, but I guess I will manage.” Knowing Flower, she would probably be more upset that she wasn’t wearing cloth. “Well, I hope she doesn’t make fun of you,” said Lia. “I’m more worried about other aspects of her personality,” Bridget said. “Oh?” She was not about to tell her that she was probably the only lead to the man who may have killed her father. “She’s a vegan and quite preachy about it.” “I enjoy my meat too much for that.” “I have no intention on adopting her food preferences,” said Bridget. “Well, good luck. I wish you could stay longer. Why do you have to leave so early?” “There are certain things I want to unpack before my new roommate gets there.” She certainly did not want to unpack her diapers under the watchful eye of Flower. “Oh,” said Lia. “Well, bye.” She leaned in and gave Bridget a hug. “I got to go. Today is my last day working at Thick Burger before I go to college tomorrow.” “Well, I will drive over and see you at least once before classes start.” “Thanks,” said Lia. She jumped into her car and drove off. Bridget returned to the house and said good bye to her mother. “Now you call when you get to campus.” “Yes, mother.” ### The drive wasn’t really that long, but it did take some time to get to campus. By the time she arrived it was already 8:45. Still, she couldn’t get her dorm key until nine o’clock anyway. “No, mother, I can’t go get your prescription,” a familiar voice said. Bridget looked and saw Ami talking into her phone. “I’m already here.” She paused. “At college.” Bridget waved to Ami. “I left last night while you and Dad were arguing.” Ami waved back. While she was occupied with her phone call, Bridget started unpacking her car to take stuff into the dorms. “No, I left because I can’t take the arguing anymore. I got to go. Bye.” She closed her phone. “Hi, Angela. Sorry you had to hear that.” “Still having problems at home?” “Nope,” she said. “I’m not home anymore, so it’s not a problem. I get to have some peace until Thanksgiving break.” “I’m glad you have some peace. I have to deal with Miss Flower Childs.” “And how she reacts to those nightmares you get?” Bridget blushed. “It’s still happening too, but maybe she won’t notice my choice of pajamas.” “I hope you are right. I only noticed because you kicked the sheets off at night. Hopefully it won’t be so freaking hot at night and you can wear some shorts to hide your diaper.” “Well, I really don’t want to dwell on that aspect of my stay here in college. I have great plans for the future. For what it is worth though, I wish you were my roommate and next semester I will try to change roommates. Flower just caught me by surprise requesting me as a roommate. For what it’s worth, I think someone needs to keep an eye on her to keep her from causing trouble.” “Good point,” said Ami. “I just think she needs to have a big plate of bacon and eggs.” The two girls hauled their stuff into the dorm and finally received their room assignments. “I’ll meet you after I get settled in,” said Bridget. She held up her cell phone. “I’ll call you.” It took her only five trips to bring everything upstairs to her dorm. Her clothes were packed in a big green Navy sea bag. She also had brought three boxes with her. One contained her computer and desk stuff. The other two contained diapers. She also had stuffed her toiletry bag in her new back pack. She had one more thing she hadn’t brought up. She ran down to her car and opened the truck. Inside was a black footlocker she had purchased at a garage sale the week before. It was about 18 inches high and three feet wide. It also had a lock. The lock thing was a big deal. It would be perfect for her diapers. The only problem was that, even empty, the footlocker was heavy. She leaned into the trunk of her car and tried her best to lift it out. She hadn’t even thought it would be that heavy. The husband of the lady who ran the garage sale had put it in her trunk for her. “Having trouble?” asked another student. He had a suitcase in one hand and a strange device in the other. “I can’t get my footlocker out of the car.” He put down his stuff and reached into the trunk and easily lifted the footlocker out of the car. He put it down behind the car. “Thanks,” said Bridget. “No problem.” He put out his hand. “Dave Matthews.” “You in a band?” asked Bridget. “I did play tuba for the Newport Knights Marching Band.” He smiled. “I get that all the time.” Bridget giggled. “I’m Angela Murphy.” She looked over at the device he held. “What is that?” “It’s a metal detector,” he said. “I like to search for old coins. It’s a bit of a hobby. I think it will be more challenging since there is no beach around, but who knows.” “Sounds like fun,” said Bridget. “Well, it is,” he said. “Tell you what.” He turned and put his gear back in his car and returned. “I’ll help you with your footlocker. I can always bring the rest of my stuff later.” He picked up the locker and started to carry it. ### “Cool,” said Dave Matthews. “We are right next door to one another.” “That’s pretty cool,” said Bridget. “After you get settled in, do you want to go get something to eat somewhere? My treat.” Bridget smiled. “I’d love to.” Then she remembered what she had told Ami. “I sort of promised my friend I would go with her. Maybe you can ask me out to dinner a different time?” She returned to her room and quickly opened the footlocker and started to fill it with her diapers. Once that was done, she threw away her boxes, put her clothes in the dresser that was in the closet and set up her computer on the little desk. She was just about done and going to make her bed when Flower walked in with her uncle. “Hi, Angela,” she said enthusiastically. Bridget just froze. Her body suddenly felt numb as the terrorist looked at her. Her crotch muscles relaxed of their own accord and she felt warmth fill her pull-up. The terrorist was in her room, helping Flower carry her things. She had never been so close to the terrorist since she crouched paralyzed with fear in her tanker truck so many years ago. She also noticed something else. It was not just her bladder that was failing her. She felt a pressure at her butt and she had to poop really bad. She grabbed her purse, and squeezed past the terrorist. “I’ll be right back,” she said. She walked as quickly as she could to the bathroom, but the urgency seemed to lessen as closer as she got. She didn’t care though. She entered a stall, pulled down her jeans and pull-up and sat down. The last thing she needed was a bowel control problem on top of her bladder issues. She used the toilet to empty herself the best she could and then when through the process of changing her pull-up. The pull-up was wet, but it could have been worse if she would have messed it. Fortunately she retained more control over her bowels than her bladder. She sheepishly slipped back into her room. The terrorist wasn’t there any longer and Bridget sighed with relief. “Why’d you rush out so quickly?” asked Flower. “I just had to use the restroom,” said Bridget. “Oh, I just wondered.” Bridget returned to the task of making her bed and then watched as Flower put her stuff around the room. She had posters that she had to put up showing animals and slogans. One was a poster of a cute piglet that read, “Does your food have a face?” Bridget sighed. She would have to have a talk about the decorating taste Flower showed. Her uncle showed up more times and it took all Bridget’s strength not to rush out of the room. Her bladder was already empty, so there were no more accidents, but that still didn’t make Bridget feel comfortable. “We are going to Studio 7 Vegetarian Restaurant,” said Flower. “Want to come?” “I’m really sorry,” said Bridget. She really wasn’t. “I promised Ami I would eat dinner with her already. After that, I am going to lay around and be a vegetable myself.” “Suit yourself,” said Flower. She and her uncle left and Bridget sighed with relief. In hindsight she should have gone. She may have even had a chance of following the terrorist, but unfortunately, she chickened out. She sighed and returned to arranging her things in her room. After everything was square, she went down the hall to Ami’s room. “Hi, Angela,” said Ami. “Come in.” On the other side of the dorm room music blasted from a set of speakers with an iPod hooked to it. The girl near the iPod glared at Bridget like her presence was some kind of intrusion. Well she glared with one heavily mascara-blacked eye. Bridget couldn’t see her other eye due to her long multicolored bangs covering it. She was very skinny and pale, but she wore long sleeves even in the summer. Bridget didn’t know how she could stand it. “We should make some rule about guests, Kim,” said the girl. “It’s Ami. Can you say Ami?” “I’m still getting my stuff arranged. Can’t we have a moratorium on guests until we get settled in?” Ami grabbed her purse and room key. “Fine,” she said, “but let’s have a moratorium on loud depressing music too.” She put her hand on Bridget’s forearm and directed her out into the hall. “I wish you were my roommate, Angela,” she said. “Anise is a stupid emo brat.” “I noticed.” Bridget wasn’t sure what an emo was, but she could tell Ami was already fed up with her. She had never seen Ami as angry as she was. Her roommate must be more annoying than Flower. “No you didn’t notice. As soon as she got here, she plugged in her iPod to loud speakers and started blasting her crappy depresso-music to everyone. I am going to go insane. Not only that, but she said my painting had to go. It’s an original Patrick Fuenz. She said it was too bright and happy. Then she puts up cheap band posters that are depressing with pictures of hearts being stabbed and shit like that.” “Hey,” said Bridget, “speaking of stabbing things, let’s go to the Fireside Grill and get some steaks. My treat.” “Yay,” said Ami. “It’ll give you a chance to forget about Anise,” Bridget suggested. “Well, I have yet to forget about her. I swear, I will cut her wrists in her sleep and no one will believe she didn’t do it to herself.” “Now that is extreme even for you,” said Bridget. The two girls took the elevator down to the first floor and began walking out to the parking lot. “Alright,” she said. “I won’t kill her, but I might get one of those roommate agreement things.” “That is more constructive.” “I mean, I would rather have you as a roommate even if you needed your diapers all the time. Let’s take my Eclipse. It is faster.” “Are you kidding?” ask Bridget. “My Crown Vic may look older, but I have a 5.8 liter V8 Police engine. We are taking the Machine.” Bridget hopped in the driver’s seat of her car and waited for Ami to get inside. “This looks a lot like an old person’s car with no hubcaps,” said Ami as she got inside. She buckled up and closed the door. Bridget started the car and threw it into reverse. The tires squealed as she backed out of her spot and then she threw it into drive and hit the accelerator. She grinned as Ami grabbed hold of the dash with one hand and the door with the other. Bridget turned onto the street and roared off campus toward the area of town where the restaurant was. ### “See, I told you my car is the fastest,” said Bridget. “Jeeze, you got here so fast, I almost needed one of your diapers, Angela,” she said. “Let’s not go so fast on the way back.” “Okay,” she said. “But only if you promise to stop mentioning my diapers in public.” “I won’t let anyone know, Angela. You know I promised that.” The two girls went inside and they got seated at a table. Ami started right in. “I don’t know how I will last the semester. Anise has gotten on my last nerve and I’ve known her less than an hour.” “Well at least you don’t have to deal with Flower,” said Bridget. “She put up PETA posters on her side of the room. I have to think about stuff like that that every time I look at them.” “Speaking of Eating Tasty Animals,” said Ami. The waitress came and took their steak orders. In less than ten minutes she brought their steaks and they were enjoying lunch. Bridget took her knife and cut through her steak and smiled as reddish brown juices flowed. She cut a piece of steak and put it in her mouth. “This is really good.” “Yes, it is,” Ami agreed. “So what does Anise like to eat?” asked Bridget. “I have no idea,” said Ami. They talked about classes and their plans until their food was gone and it was time to go to campus again. “Don’t worry, I’ll get the bill,” said Ami. She pulled out a credit card and gave it to the waitress who brought their bill. Soon after the two girls headed back to Bridget’s car. “Do you think we have time to make a Walmart run?” asked Bridget. “No, we got that assembly in less than thirty minutes.” “Oh, well let’s go to the assembly.” ### The assembly was as boring as Bridget expected. Flower insisted on sitting next to her in the auditorium. Ami sat on the other side. The assembly was basically a rehash of things that they covered a few months back in orientation and a schedule of the Week of Welcome activities. Everything to get freshmen ready before classes began. Bridget didn’t know whether to be annoyed or frustrated by all that she had to do to get ready for classes until she realized most of the stuff was optional. The only thing she would really have to do is buy her books at the bookstore and visit all the classrooms on her schedule to make sure she knew the way. Still the study skills session and note-taking session would have been useful the first time she went to college. Maybe she would have graduated. After about ninety minutes the assembly was over and they were dismissed until the next day. Bridget got up, said goodbye to Ami, and returned to her room to relax until then. ### Flower did not return to the room right away. In fact, she didn’t come back until well after Bridget was diapered and asleep. “Hey, Angela,” she said as she came in the dorm room at 2:00 am and turned on the light. She stumbled and fell into the room and Bridget knew right away what was wrong. She got out of bed and closed the dormroom door and leaned down to where Flower had fallen. “Oh great, you’re drunk aren’t you?” She put Flower in her bed, fully dressed, and only took off her shoes. She was tempted to diaper Flower, but then Flower would wonder where the diaper had come from if she woke up dressed in one. Bridget crossed back to her own bed and tried to fall asleep. She hoped Flower wouldn’t make a habit of coming back to the dorm drunk. Bridget woke up screaming the next morning. The dream was especially intense and she actually forgot it was a dream. That was until her dream self began to pee herself. She woke up hot and sweaty, but she checked to make sure her diaper was covered. She sighed with relief when she saw she was covered. However her diaper felt wet and it was time to change. “Can you be quiet?” said the rumpled form of Flower from her side of the dorm room. “My head hurts.” Bridget sighed. She then grabbed her robe and pulled it on before getting out of bed. She just had to get into her walk-in closet and pull off her diaper without Flower finding out. “Oh, dammit,” said Flower as she sat up in bed. She rubbed her hands over the mattress and then closed her eyes and held them to her head. “What’s wrong?” asked Bridget. “Stop shouting at me,” Flower begged. “I have a hangover I think. I never drank before last night.” She got out of bed with her clothes still on. Her jeans were wet around her butt and the bottom of her shirt was even wet. Bridget went into her closet, stripped off her diaper and gathered her toiletries before going out to lecture Flower. Flower just stood in the dorm room in her wet clothes looking at her wet bed. “I can’t believe I had an accident. I haven’t done that since I was seven.” She looked over at Bridget. “What do I do?” “Just take off your wet things, put on your robe and go shower,” Bridget commanded. Flower did as commanded and left the room. Bridget sighed and looked around. Her own sheets were wet with sweat. She took her own sheets and Flower’s and put them in a basket. She put Flowers clothes on top. Then she left for her own shower. The water washed her own smelly skin off and she wondered if Flower had peed herself before or it was just drunkenness. She thought it more likely the latter, but it didn’t matter. She would use Flower’s accident to her advantage. She got out of the shower and then dried off, dressed, and readied her make-up in the mirror. Flower was three sinks away, putting on her own makeup. She looked at Bridget and turned red. Bridget smiled and left the bathroom. She returned to her dorm room, got the laundry basket and took them to the laundry room. She had scoped out the laundry room for her dorm floor earlier and knew exactly where to go. She obviously didn’t want to be spotted carrying wet sheets in the hall, even if they didn’t belong to her. She finally spotted the laundry room and dumped the basket in the nearest washer. She didn’t bother sorting. Her sheets were colored, Flower’s sheet were colored, and the only thing white were Flower’s panties that were still inside her jeans. She dumped in some detergent, put some quarters in the machine and returned to her room. “You can’t tell anyone about this,” said Flower as Bridget returned to the room. “I think it would amuse Ami.” She was still sore at Flower. Flower stared back at her like a deer in headlights. “You can’t.” “Okay,” said Bridget, “but that comes down.” She pointed at the Meat is Murder poster over Flower’s bed. “Fine,” said Flower. She climbed on her bed, her feet almost slipping on the plastic sheet, and pulled the poster down. “And--,” said Bridget. “Something else yet?” “Yeah,” said Bridget. If her diaper leaked on her bed, Flower would find out about it. “If it happens to me ever, then you will have to be quiet about it.” “Deal,” said Flower. She said it quickly as if she expected Bridget to add on more terms. She sat on the bed and patted the plastic sheet. “These came in handy.” Bridget had one on her bed, and as far as she knew, so did Ami and Anise. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s so drunken freshmen don’t ruin the mattress.” Flower blushed. “I’m going to breakfast,” said Bridget. “Put our laundry in the dryer after another forty minutes.” It was only right that Flower should have to help since she caused the laundry problem. ### “So Angela, did anything interesting happen last night?” asked Ami. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” said Bridget. She took a bite of her eggs and then stabbed a strip of bacon with her fork. Ami smiled. “I saw Flower stumbling back from the room last night. Anise and her were in another dormroom partying.” “Anise and Flower are friends?” “No,” said Ami. “They were just partying. Anise woke me up and grumbled about some hippie bitch who had too much alcohol.” “That sounds like Flower,” said Bridget. “I put her to bed and she woke up cranky and with a headache.” “Well was she at least too out of it to find out about your nighttime stuff?” Bridget’s face felt warm, but she nodded. “Good.” Ami took a bite of her omelet and then started to scoop up another piece with her fork. “Now we can concentrate on the rest of the week of boredom.” ### “Welcome new freshmen. I work for the counseling office. I just want to let you know what is on the agenda until classes start on Monday. Today is already Thursday. You should have gone on a campus tour yesterday, and today after lunch you’re basically free until then. However, there is a full schedule of activities. Tomorrow there is a camping trip into the woods that will leave early Friday morning and return Sunday night. There are also concerts and plays put on by the drama club and orchestra. There is also a study skills workshop.” She droned on and on about the activities and how they were adults, but that attending class was important to success. Bridget spent the whole time trying not to roll her eyes. “Did you think it would take this long?” asked Ami. “I had no idea,” said Bridget. They walked together out of the lecture hall. “We need to go to the book store.” “Me too, but first I am going to the bathroom.” The two of them walked into the bathroom and got stalls next to each other. Bridget sat and peed. She heard Ami do the same. They finished at about the same time and both of them went to the sink to wash their hands. “I couldn’t help but notice,” said Ami. “Are you wearing a diaper?” Bridget’s face felt warm again. She was wearing a pull-up in case Flower’s uncle appeared. “It’s a pull-up she whispered. It’s for just in case. I don’t use it during the day.” “I was just curious,” said Ami. “It is less noticeable that a wet spot on your pants, I guess.” “That’s not even funny,” said Bridget. She remembered the spreading warm wet spot expanding on the front and back of her pants that streaked her jeans when she and Lia were at the movie theater. She did not want to experience that again. “But it must have happened to you,” Ami said, “or you wouldn’t be wearing the pull-ups.” “Once or twice. I got a reputation during my last semester when it happened once in class and another time in front of people from school.” Bridget looked at Ami. “Please don’t spread that around.” “I promise Angela.” “Well, let’s go to the book store.” ### The bookstore was quite the experience. Bridget bought used when she could, but the books still cost her about four times what she paid when she was a student the first time. She held up a shrink wrapped book to Ami as they exited the store. “This was $150 and I don’t dare unwrap it until the first day of class in case the instructor isn’t planning on using the book.” “Well I had to pay $50 for this.” She held a shrink wrapped thing of study notes that looked like it was Xeroxed copies of the instructor’s notes. It wasn’t even bound, but was just loose pages. “That is bad,” said Bridget. She put her most expensive book back away with the rest of her $400 in purchases. “Well, it’s just my parent’s money, but that is still a limited resource.” They arrived at the dorm and Bridget remembered her laundry. She had to make her bed. “I got to take care of some things,” she said. “I am still getting settled in.” “I understand,” said Ami. “I have to go to the mall and get some noise-canceling headphones.” Bridget thought of Anise. “Yeah, you’ll need them.” She got to her door and entered. “Hi,” said Flower. “Oh, I just came to the bookstore. Have you been yet?” Bridget looked around. Flower’s bed was made and Flower also had made her own bed. “Thanks for making my bed.” She dumped her books out on the bed. She had half expected to find that her sheets were still in the washing machine, but Flower had not only dried them, but made the bed. “It’s the least I could do,” said Flower. “I guess I should go to the book store. I won’t have a chance to go later because I am going on that camp out.” “I didn’t see you as the woods type of girl,” Bridget said. “I like nature and the environment,” said Flower. “I am going to stay here and rest up for classes.” “Well have fun, Angela.” She looked at her watch. “I really got to go.” Bridget spent the rest of the night reading ahead in her textbooks and relaxing. Bridget dreamt of the truck again. She could not turn the truck in time after wresting the steering wheel from the terrorist and it still struck the school. Burning children chased her. One of the girls asked her, “What are you doing about it? The terrorist is still out there.” “I can’t yet. It’s not time. I don’t know how to get the terrorist,” Bridget begged. “Your job is not to get just the terrorist,” said the burned little girl. “You need to get his whole gang.” “But...” Bridget tried to say. “Until you do, you will wake up wet.” She waved her hand and Bridget felt herself start to wet her diaper. She woke up in a wet diaper just as a knock came at her door. She groggily walked to the door and looked through the peep hole. “Who is it?” “It’s me, Dave,” said the guy at her door. “Dave Mathews. I wondered if you wanted to go on a walk or something.” Bridget looked around for a clock. She wondered what time it was. The clock radio on her nightstand read ten o’clock already. She had put him off for dinner and she really did want to get together sometime, but not dressed in only a diaper. “Can you come back in ten minutes?” she asked. “I need to get ready. I just woke up.” “Sure.” Bridget watched as he walked away from her door. As soon as the coast was clear, she tore off her diaper, put on her robe, and grabbed her toiletries. She looked at Flower’s perfectly made bed. It was nice the past couple of nights having her gone. She didn’t have to hide her diaper; she only had to lock the door. She even was able to sleep in just a diaper with only a thin sheet covering her. That would never work when Flower was here. She walked quickly to the bathroom, deposited her diaper in the trash and took a quick shower. The shower was just long enough to wash her hair, and get the pee smell off of her skin. She hoped for the day that she could wake up dry. After the shower she quickly did her morning routine and came out to find Dave. “So what are we doing?” asked Bridget. “Well, Angela,” he said, “I thought we would just walk around a bit and see where our classes are. Classes start tomorrow.” “I did that already,” Bridget said. He looked sad, but Bridget really wanted to make him happy. “How about we go somewhere and you can show me how your metal detector works.” “I guess we could do that. Most girls aren’t interested in metal detectors. Let me go get it.” “You do that Dave Mathews. And most girls aren’t in the engineering program so that is why they aren’t interested. I am.” ### “You just hold it a few inches of the ground and wave it around,” said Dave. He waved the detector across a small area and walked forward. After walking a few feet it beeped. Whenever he waved it over the same area it beeped again. “Does that beeping sound mean you found something?” asked Bridget. “Maybe,” said Dave. He knelt down and began digging with a small trowel. He picked up a small object and handed it to Bridget. She looked at it. “It’s a nail.” She was about to throw it down. “Probably we should throw it out so it doesn’t get caught in a lawnmower when they mow.” “Oh, good idea,” she said. She picked up the metal detector and moved it across the ground. “I expected it to be a lot easier to find stuff I wanted. I didn’t think about stuff I didn’t want.” “Well that is half the fun of finding things,” he said. “I’ll trust you on that.” Bridget swept the metal detector back and forth and suddenly it began to beep louder than it had with the nail. “Oh I found something.” Dave smiled when he saw where she had detected metal. “Does it read through concrete?” she asked. “Too bad we can’t dig underneath there without damaging the sidewalk.” “It will certainly do that,” said Dave, “especially since it is reading the rebar inside the sidewalk.” Bridget felt herself blush. “Oh.” She hadn’t thought of that. “That’s okay. We can go to the beach and play with the metal detector. It is a lot more fun and you do find more valuable stuff.” She smiled at Dave Matthews. “I’d like that.” He took the metal detector from her. “Enough of my hobby.” He looked at his watch. How about we go to Applebee’s? My treat.” Bridget rubbed her stomach. “That sounds like a great idea.” ### Lunch with Dave went pretty well. He opened doors for her, pulled her chair out at the restaurant and was a nice gentleman. It was she that ruined everything. “Thank you for taking me to lunch,” she said as they walked out toward his car. “No problem,” said Dave. “I kind of like you.” She turned to look at him. “Just kind of?” As she continued walking, she didn’t notice a raise part of the pavement where there was a crack. Her toe caught it and sent her flat on her butt. She dropped her purse as well sending the contents scattering. Dave bent down and started gathering everything that spilled out including her spare pull-up. He held it up. “Why do you have these?” Bridget felt her face heat up. “I um...,” she started, but then trailed off. She looked at Dave’s eyes and had to tell him something. “I have a bladder control problem,” she said. Her throat hurt and she felt like she was going to cry. She liked Dave Matthews. He didn’t have to wrinkle his nose, she thought. “I appreciate if you didn’t spread around my problem.” He looked away from her. “Hey, we’re friends,” he said. “I was just going to tell you how much I like you as just friends. Let me help you pick up the rest of your things.” He was nice to her about picking up her things, but she couldn’t help thinking that he was offering more than a friendship until he saw the pull-up. “I’m not going to let him see me crying,” she promised herself. She forced a smile until they got back to campus. Bridget barely held back the tears before she made it to her dorm room and shut the door. ### After moping around in her dorm room all afternoon, Bridget decided to get some sleep. She looked in the mirror and saw her eyes were still puffy and she did not want anyone in the hall to see her, especially Dave Matthews. “Maybe I’ll just go to bed and wake up super early tomorrow. She got out her diaper for the night and started to put it on. The sound of a key in the door rattled and she quickly pulled her covers over herself before Flower walked in. “Ugh, I am glad I am back in civilization,” said Flower. She dumped her bag on the bed and started unpacking. She dumped all the clothes in her laundry. “Did you have fun on your camping trip?” asked Bridget. She was a bit nervous sitting in her bed with only her diaper and T-shirt. She usually wore shorts to bed over the diaper to hide it from Flower. “Oh the place we stayed was beautiful,” said Flower. “We stayed by the river. It’s too bad the trees on the other side of the river are owned by a lumber company.” “Well,” said Bridget. “Where do you think we get buildings and stuff.” “Well, it is horrible,” said Flower. “The trees are natural and beautiful. They are cutting them down next Saturday. Someone should do something.” Bridget started to tremble. If wasn’t only wearing a diaper and a t-shirt she would have gotten up and slapped some sense into Flower. Instead, she had to deal with Flower without getting up from her bed. “Flower, relax. The first day of classes are tomorrow. I want to get some rest. Besides, you can’t do anything about it tonight.” “I guess you are right. I am going to bed early as well.” “Thanks,” said Bridget. It was two hours until she heard Flower’s soft breathing that indicated she was asleep before she could retrieve her shorts and cover her diapers. “Was your first week as hard as mine?” asked Bridget. She hefted her backpack on her shoulder as she and Ami walked out of the classroom. “It wasn’t that bad,” said Ami, “and I am not just saying that because I’m Asian.” She smiled at her own joke. “I could have done without so much homework. The professor gave us miles of Physics homework.” “It’s almost like we’re Engineering students or something,” said Bridget. “Maybe we should start a study group.” “Good idea. You want to meet after supper and we’ll just hang around your dorm room and work on homework?” Ami wrinkled her nose. “Anise made it clear that music would be playing since it is Friday.” “At least you only have to deal with her until she flunks out,” said Bridget. “I would have thought with her being emo she would have majored in English literature or something like that.” As the two girls walked down the path toward the dorm, Flower caught up to them. “Hey guys, what’s up?” “We are going to get started studying,” said Ami. “You are welcome to join us.” “I can’t,” said Flower. “It’s a life or death thing. If I don’t do this, bad things will happen.” She frowned. “I am free Saturday morning.” “We do have a life,” said Bridget. “Saturday I am sleeping in and then going shopping.” “I thought you and Dave Matthews were going somewhere special on Saturday,” said Flower. “He said something about it to me last week.” “Dave and I are not speaking,” said Bridget. “Well, I hope it blows over,” said Flower. “I am still your friend even though you kill harmless animals and eat them. What you two argue about is probably nothing compared to that.” “Bridget, are we getting General Tso’s chicken for dinner?” asked Ami. “I like it because it was named after a butcher.” “We are going to get some supper, Flower,” said Bridget. “You are free to join us.” “No, my uncle is taking me out for vegetarian tonight.” Bridget felt a slight trickle of pee leak into her pull-up at the mention of the terrorist, but she managed to control herself. She did feel slightly damp. “Let’s go Ami. I’m hungry.” “I’ll see you later tonight,” said Flower. ### “That was awkward,” said Ami. She picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks and expertly guided it into her mouth. Bridget picked up a bite of food, but when she turned it toward her mouth her fingers cramped and she dropped both the broccoli and her chopsticks. “What was awkward?” Ami handed her a fork and Bridget stabbed a piece of chicken with it. “The way Flower talks about her uncle all the time.” Bridget dropped her fork as she began to wet her pull-up. She felt her bottom for leaks and sighed with relief as her hand came away dry. “I got to go to the restroom.” “Me too,” said Ami. “Um, I,” Bridget started to say. She wet her pull-up and didn’t really want Ami to know that she wet during the day too. Still Ami was following her. They went into the restroom together. Unfortunately it was a small two stall bathroom and the stalls had no doors. Bridget felt trapped. She could rip the pull-up off of her, but she still had to take off her blue jeans to put the clean pull-up on. Ami had already sat down and started peeing, so Bridget hurried to change. Taking her shoes off in a gross bathroom always disgusted her. She quickly put the new pull-up in place and started to pull up her jeans when Ami came out of the stall. Bridget’s face felt hot when she noticed Ami looking at the wet pull-up at her feet. “Are you okay, Angela?” Bridget finished pulling up her pants and then tied her shoes before picking up the wet pull-up and throwing it away. “I’m fine.” “Your nighttime problem seems to have become a daytime problem,” said Ami. She turned on the water and washed her hands. “Can we please change the subject?” The door opened and another woman entered the restroom. “Yeah, come on. Let’s finish eating.” They ate mostly in silence and didn’t say anything until they got to the car. ### Later that evening Bridget and Ami did their homework together. There was a lot, so Bridget did have a lot to finish the next day, but she knew which directions to go. She had never seen some of the math before and it was difficult. “I’m going to go down stairs and work in the lobby,” said Ami. “That means I will sit in front of the TV watching infomercials.” “Lovely,” said Bridget. “I don’t want to look at another physics problem. I am going to dream I am driving a truck on a frictionless road accelerating at 3 meters per second per second. How far do you think I’ll travel before morning?” Ami smiled. “Angela, you know I would make a smartass answer, but I don’t want to solve for distance.” “Slacker,” she said as she shut the door. She yawned and stretched. I think I’ll go to bed, she thought. Bridget slid out of her clothes and put on a clean diaper for bed. She pulled on a long T-shirt over it. She looked around for her shorts and found them in the laundry with a slight pee stain on them. Her diaper had started to leak the night before. She had to go to bed without them. ### Bridget did dream of kinematics. She kept trying to calculate over and over how to slow her tanker truck before it hit the school. When she bailed from the truck her physics professor was standing above her. “You could have stopped it if you were smart enough to figure out a simple physics problem.” She heard a terrible crash and felt herself peeing again. She opened her eyes in time to see Flower stumbling to then floor. She shielded the light with her arms and squinted across the room to see what the commotion was all about. “Ouch,” squealed Flower. The floor was covered with a box of spilt nails. They weren’t just picture-hanging nails; they were pretty big. A hammer lay on the floor beside Flower who was holding her foot. “That hurt dammit. I dropped a hammer on my foot.” “What are you doing with a hammer this time of night, Flower?” asked Bridget. She watched as Flower tried to scrape the nails together into a pile and put back into the box she spilled. “My uncle and I were doing a project together,” she said. Bridget’s pee muscles tried to release, but she had already emptied her bladder into her diaper. “Well I may as well tell you,” said Flower. “That forest they were going to cut down. Well, my uncle and I and another friend put nails in the trees to keep them safe from the loggers.” “You what?” asked Bridget. She got out of her bed and walked straight up to Flower and pushed her against her bed. “You know that when the loggers cut down the trees that their chainsaw blades will break?” Flower looked up at Bridget and then down at her hand that was twisted in the collar of her shirt. “So?” “So what do you think happens to the logger when the chainsaw blade brakes and flies back at him?” she yelled. “My best friend’s father died because some worthless hippy spiked a tree. Now I find out my own roommate is trying to murder more people.” Flower started crying. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone,” she sobbed. “I just wanted to protect the trees.” “At the expense of human life,” said Bridget. She released Flower and turned toward her closet. “Do you remember where you spiked the trees?” Flower reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with a Yahoo map on it. “We just did here.” She handed it to Bridget. The Yahoo map had the section of forest that was spiked marked in red marker. “We only got the West side of the forest done though.” She looked at Bridget’s diaper. “Why are you wearing a diaper?” Bridget looked down and noticed she wasn’t covered. She really hadn’t planned on letting Flower know about her wetting problem. “Don’t worry about that. You should be worried about how long you are going to spend in jail after one of your nails kills a lumberjack.” She found her jeans and pulled them on. Then she grabbed her car keys. “Well don’t tell anyone,” Flower whined. “I don’t want to go to jail.” She knelt down and continued to gather the nails scattered on the floor. “Maybe I should drop you off in the woods and make you pull all those nails you put into the trees,” said Bridget. “But how would we know we got them all?” asked Flower. “They are not made of shiny metal and it’s dark. I couldn’t even detect where I hit them in the tree.” “That’s it,” said Bridget. “Dave Matthews has a metal detector. We can find the nails with it.” She grabbed the hammer in one hand and yanked Flower out the door with the other hand. She handed her keys and the hammer to Flower. “Now go wait in my car.” ### Bridget crept up the stairs to the next floor and entered into the dark hallway. As she crept past the bathroom, she blushed. She hoped no boys had to get up in the night and use the bathroom. She didn’t want to run into anyone wearing only boxers. Finally she arrived at Dave Matthew’s door and knocked. There was no answer. She pounded on the door. “Open up Dave, I need to come in now,” she hissed. A groggy Dave came to the door. “Angela?” “Yes it’s me.” She forced her way past him into the dorm. “You aren’t supposed to be here after 10:00,” he said. “This is a guy’s floor.” “I know the rules,” she said. “This is important. I need your metal detector.” “But--” “Just for tonight.” “No,” he said. “It’s expensive. Where are you going with it?” She thought of Flower. She really didn’t want to go to jail. “I can’t tell you.” She slipped off her shirt, pushed her bra down, and took Dave’s hand and pressed them against her breasts. “Please.” “But--” “I would sleep with you if I had time and you weren’t grossed out be my bladder control problem.” She took his hands and started rubbing them on her breasts. “Sure,” he said. “But you have to pay for any damage you do to my metal detector and...” “And?” He pulled a hand away from her breast and slipped it toward the top of her pants. When his hand felt the top of her diaper, he stopped. “Ugh, nevermind.” She pulled her shirt back on while he turned to his closet and got the metal detector. It was in her hands. She also saw a crowbar leaning against the back of the closet. “I want that too,” she said. She left the dorms with those two items in hand.” ### “We’re here,” said Flower. “At least I think.” Bridget parked the car and the two girls got out. Bridget checked her watch. “It’s almost 4:00 am. We got to get this done quickly.” “Yeah, the lumberjacks come here at six,” said Flower. “I don’t want to get caught by them.” “Well than help me.” She swung the metal detector along the nearest tree trunk. As she raised it, it beeped. “Here is the first nail. Take it out.” Flower tugged at the nail with the claw of her hammer. She really had to strain, but she finally got it out. “This is hard,” she complained. Bridget swung the metal detector along the tree again. It beeped in a different place. “Serves you right. You should have thought of that before you spiked a tree.” She pointed at a nailhhead. “Take that one out. How many nails did you put in each tree?” “Depends on the tree.” They spend several hours pulling out the nails. Bridget had to help pull the nails. It was very tedious work, but the made process across the forest. They were at the last tree when Bridget felt a strong hand grab her from behind and clamp her mouth shut. She couldn’t make a sound, but she could still hear. A scurrying figure ran through the woods carrying Dave’s metal detector. She got into Bridget’s car and sped off. “Coward,” she thought. Flower had abandoned her hear with neither her car, nor Dave’s metal detector. Her captor dragged her backward away from the path where she had driven into the forest. ### “Look what I caught?” said her captor. He pushed her into the middle of a logging camp. A man with an axe across his knees stood up and frowned. “I caught me a tree spiker.” He held Dave’s crowbar and a handful of bent nails. “No, I’m not,” said Bridget. “There were two of them, but one got away.” “I’m not a tree spiker. I was pulling nails out of the trees, Bridget said. “Sure,” said another logger. “Hey let’s spike her to a tree.” Two of the loggers lifted her up and slammed her back against the trunk of a pretty solid pine tree. Another took one of the straighter spikes and pressed it in the fleshy bit beneath her left collar bone. He pulled the hammer back to strike. Bridget didn’t know what hit her first: the smell or the mushy feeling as her bowels emptied themselves into her diaper. She screamed when she saw the hammer start to come down. “Stop! What are you doing?” a voice yelled. She couldn’t see who it belonged to due to the glare of the flashlight he was holding. The hammer about to smash a nail into her shoulder stopped as the angry lumberjack looked behind him. “We caught this terrorist spiking trees.” He still had one hand holding her off her feet with her back against the tree. “So, we’ll call the police. We aren’t going to hurt people. We aren’t tree-spiking terrorists,” said the man with the flashlight. “I wasn’t spiking trees,” said Bridget. “I was pulling spikes out.” “Sure,” said another of the lumberjacks. He held up the Yahoo map she had taken from Flower. “She mapped the area she was spiking out. It looks like she covered the area we were going to cut in the morning.” “We had a friend die cutting a spiked tree,” said another wood cutter. He held up his chainsaw in a menacing manner. “Then you know why I had to stop it,” said Bridget. She grabbed at the strong arm holding her against a tree. “I found out they spiked the area earlier and I had to reverse the damage. My best friend in high school, Lia: well her father died because of some tree spiker. I didn’t want it to happen to anyone else.” “Angela, is that you?” asked the guy with the flashlight. “You know her?” asked the lumberjack who had almost spiked her to the tree and scared her so bad she shit in her diaper. “Yes, it’s me,” she said, “and I can prove I didn’t spike the trees. I brought a metal detector and a crowbar. I didn’t even have a hammer.” “I found a crowbar. I didn’t find a metal detector or a hammer for that matter,” said another lumberjack. “I found a bag of bent nails though.” “Yeah, I know her,” said the flashlight holding man. He stepped forward and Bridget saw that it was Derek Stevens. “She’s Lia’s friend that I went to prom with. You can put her down, Ogre.” When Ogre let her down her hands shot to the back of her pants. Her jeans covered up her diapers, but there was a big smelly bulge. She almost would rather be impaled to the tree that let Derek see her like this. Still, he came forward and took her by the arm. “Are you okay? You look really pale.” Then his nose wrinkled as the smell hit him. “I got really scared,” she whined. The tears began to flow. She had loved him at prom and now he saw how disgusting she could be. “Ogre, you made her shit her pants,” said Derek. “Go get her some coveralls or something to wear.” He took out a big red hankerchief and wiped her eyes. “Come on. I will try to get you somewhere to clean up and then Ogre will bring you some clean clothes.” She waddled beside him as he led her through the woods until they got to the logging camp. He led her straight through it and down toward the river. “You can clean up here and I will bring you your new clothes.” Bridget only stared at the slowly moving creek. “Do you need help?” Bridget shook her head and Derek started to walk away. He looked back and then started walking toward her again. “Angela, are you wearing a diaper?” This was not what she needed. She loved Derek ever since prom and she didn’t want to disappoint him. She just nodded. “I just need them for bed.” After getting another good whiff of herself she added. “I never poop my pants during the day. I was only wearing one out here in the woods because I found out about the tree spiking I had to stop at the last minute and I didn’t have time to change.” “It’s okay,” he said. “The diapers will be our secret.” She turned to thank him, but he had disappeared into the wood. She walked down to the water and peeled off her clothes. It wasn’t really that bad. Her jeans were just a bit stained from a little leak, but she had to take off the diaper. It was pretty disgusting. She got naked, rolled up the diaper and went down into the river. Being in the river was chilly at night. It was early September, but the water had come down from ice capped mountains and she shivered as soon as she stepped into the water. The desire to be clean instead of poopy overwhelmed her desire to be warm and she plunged in neck deep into the water and let the current wash her clean. She could see the pinkening of the sky as the sun began to rise and she that she was okay from the experience. She did see a bruise beginning on her sternum where Ogre held her against the tree, but that would cause no lasting damage. When she felt that she was clean again, she noticed footsteps. Derek came out of the woods carrying a bundle. “I’ll leave the stuff right here,” he said. He put down the bundle and picked up her dirty diaper and put it in a plastic bag and put her clothes in a different bag and took them away. Bridget crawled onto the river bank and grabbed the towel and dried herself. Then she slid on the coveralls, and pulled on her socks and shoes again. The coveralls were a bit baggy and smelled of sawdust, but that was better than smelling like poop. She wondered where to go next, but then Derek returned for her. “So here is the deal,” he said. “We got to cut those trees before the day ends. I can’t take you home until afterward.” “Sure that is fine. You got to let me help though. I really want to make the terrorist pay for what he’s done and cutting trees will work will be sure to make him mad.” “The terrorist? It sounds like you are talking about a particular person.” “I am,” said Bridget. “But you can’t say anything. He is mine. He ruined my life and I will make him pay.” Derek backed away a bit. So angry was her voice at the thought of the terrorist that she really didn’t realize what she looked like when she got into her rage against the killer. “Angela?” “Sorry, I am just taking it personal.” She paused. “Bridget got out.” Derek began to get worried. “Who is Bridget?” “You got to promise you will not tell anyone. I’ve told no one about this and you wondered at prom how I seemed to act so grown up.” “Yes, and I promise I can keep this quiet.” “Well, it is not like anyone will believe you if you repeat this, but I am not really Angela Murphy. In fact...” ### It was over an hour before they got back to camp. Chainsaws buzzed through the forest. She saw the tops of trees sway and then fall over, but she had to tell Derek everything. He had so many questions. “So will you help me take out Owl? I am not sure how I can fight him myself. Last time we struggled, well, innocent people got hurt.” “You keep blaming yourself and second guessing yourself,” he said. “No wonder you have nightmares and the unfortunate wetting issues.” “Yeah,” she said, “and did I mention that I piss my pants in fear every time I see the terrorist and he happens to be my roommate’s uncle?” “And when he gets his just desserts you can think you will stop wetting?” Bridget nodded. “Well, I will see what I can do to help you.” He looked around. “I liked Lia’s father and I want to make your terrorist pay.” The two walked out into the work area and Derek put her to work. She was given a chainsaw and told to cut the branches off the trees that had already been cut down. She smiled as Derek let her to do other work. Working in the timber industry was difficult. The branches were quite large, but the chainsaw easily cut through them. It took over an hour just to delimb one tree. By the time she started on the next tree, Ogre came up to her. He watched her work for a while. “You’re doing fine.” Bridget nodded. The large man still frightened her and it would probably take some time until she got the image of him trying to nail her to the tree. She continued to cut away the branches of the tree she was working on. “Well, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.” He tried to look away, but then he looked at her again. “I mean you wouldn’t be helping us out if you were lying. Well I mean I am sorry I tried to hurt you and I am sorry I embarrassed you.” Bridget couldn’t stay angry. If she thought someone was working for the same people that were responsible for the death of Lia’s father, she would have attacked them. “I accept your apology,” she said. He seemed relieved and then he walked away. ### Derek was true to his word. It took a long time to cut the trees and get them ready for transport. It took even longer to get the logs loaded up on the logging trucks. The trucks also had to make sever trips. By the time they had finished, it was nine at night. “Thank you for helping us out,” said Derek. “We’ve been a bit short handed.” “No problem,” said Bridget. “Weren’t you supposed to be at MIT?” “Well, the instructor for one of my classes left and I will have to wait until next semester to take it, so I just am taking a semester off,” he said. “I came home to help my dad out.” “Oh.” Bridget smiles and held on to Derek’s hand. “I am glad you were here today.” He put her arm around Bridget. “I am glad you are here too, Angela.” He paused a moment and then frowned. “Or do you want me to call you Bridget?” Bridget thought for a minute. She had been used to going by Angela Murphy the past five months, but inside she was still the same woman who was victimized by the terrorist. Actually Angela was fighting back while Bridget was cowering in the cab of her truck letting the terrorist drive it into a school. “I’d better stick to being Angela. People might ask questions.” “Good.” He rubbed her back and let his hand slip down to her waist. “I am used to calling you Angela any way.” ### Bridget sat in the passenger seat of Derek’s pickup truck. She still wore the coveralls and in her lap she held the plastic bag that held her clothes. “So should I take you back to the dorm,” he asked her. Bridget thought for a minute. “I’d rather hear your plan for catching the terrorist.” “Well if you could get him to break into my house,” he said, “we could shoot him as a burglar.” “He’s an eco-terrorist, not a common crook,” said Bridget. “Yeah, you’re right,” said Derek. “I don’t know what I was thinking.” “Well, I still would like to discuss our plans,” said Bridget. “Well, how about you stay with me? I can wash your clothes and then take you home tomorrow.” “I’d like that,” she said. They continued driving. ### Bridget put on one of Derek’s button down shirts over a pair of shorts. It felt funny wearing shorts with no panties, but she trusted Derek. Or at least she decided she didn’t care it something did happen. She emerged from his bedroom and handed him the coveralls and her socks. “Ta-da. How do I look?” Derek took her dirty clothes and smiled. “You look very sexy.” Bridget looked down. The shirt came down well below her shorts. She did feel a bit sexy. “Sit down on the couch,” said Derek. “I am going to wash your clothes.” He left the room and Bridget just sat until he returned. ### They had been talking for over an hour. Derek’s hand had wandered up the leg of her shorts. She adjusted her position to accommodate his hand and she turned toward him with raised lips. He returned her kiss and he really was a good kisser. He gave the right amount of tongue, the right amount of pressure, and held her under for the right amount of time. His hand had found its way to pleasure her and she began to moan. She quivered in his arms and she felt incredible horny. “Take me,” she begged. “Shall we adjourn to the bedroom?” he asked. “Yes,” she said. She was so aroused she could barely walk. The shorts she wore were damp about her crotch and it wasn’t from pee. “Hurry,” she said. Derek carried her to the bedroom and lay her on the bed. The shirt came off and so did her shorts. He opened the door of the night stand and shuffled around inside. “What are you doing?” she asked. She wanted him to pay attention to her, not to something else, but she watched until he presented a condom which he held up with triumph. ### She lay with her head on his chest as he held her in bed. “I could lie down here like this all night,” said Derek. “I planned to put you up in a sleeping bag on the floor, but I’d rather you stay in bed with me.” Bridget smiled. She felt wonderful and really wanted to fall asleep in Derek’s arms. Still she remembered her night time problem. “Oh, Derek, I hate to put a damper on the night, but I don’t have my diapers. I am afraid I might wet the bed if I sleep here.” Derek frowned. “Oh, I forgot.” He felt the mattress and then put his arm around her. “I’m not worried. Just run to the bathroom now before we go to sleep.” Bridget did as she was told and returned to Derek’s arms were she fell asleep. She had had a long and strenuous day. She hoped she was too tired to dream. Bridget woke up screaming from her dream. It was getting worse, not better. Her plans for revenge against the terrorist and worries for how she would accomplish it combined with the memory of the tanker truck combined to make her nightmare worse than ever. She awoke in a puddle in a strange bed and looked around in a panic. Derek still lay asleep next to her. She felt the sheets between them and found to her horror that the wetness extended between them. “Oh crap.” She never had anything like this happen to her. Every time she had wet the bed before, she had been alone. She never had shared something like this with a boyfriend. She was sure he would react in horror. Derek stirred and then frowned when he noticed the puddle. “I’m sorry,” said Bridget. He scooted next to her and put an arm around her. “Well, it’s not like you didn’t warn me,” he said. He looked down at the puddle. “Well, we may as well get up.” Bridget got out of the bed and looked down at herself. The white shirt she borrowed from Derek was yellowed around the bottom. She glanced at Derek and blushed. “I’ll take care of the bedding while you take a shower,” he said. He started sweeping up the sheets from the bed and threw them in a basket. Bridget blushed when Derek removed the sheets and she saw the wet spot on the mattress pad. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It will clean up.” He waved his arm toward the door. “Now go; shower.” He smiled. Bridget turned and headed toward the bathroom. She unbuttoned Derek’s shirt and dropped her borrowed shorts to the floor and stepped in the shower. She turned on the water and let it run over her shoulders. As she scrubbed herself clean and soaped herself, she thought about how nice Derek seemed nice about the wet bed, but wasn’t sure how long he would want to put up with her bedwetting. Even when she came prepared with her night time protection when she slept over next time. But as long as he did she was happy that he seemed to like her. When she got out to dry herself, she noticed that her clothes from yesterday. Derek must have come in and laid them out for her when he got her soiled nice clothes. She smiled as she reached for the clothes and put them to her nose. The smelled fresh from the detergent he used to wash them the night before. There would be no walk of shame this morning for her. She dressed. It felt funny not wearing any underwear. She hadn’t had time to put on a bra when she left Friday night and she had just pulled her jeans on over her diaper. Now she just had her bare skin against the jeans and she hoped she didn’t have another accident. Derek was making the bed with fresh sheets when she returned from the bathroom. She went to the bed and patted the middle with her hand. “It’s dry,” he said. “It didn’t soak through the mattress pad. It’s waterproof.” He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss. “Why did you have a waterproof mattress pad?” asked Bridget. “I bought it by mistake,” he smiled. The mattress pad had looked cloth and there was no evidence of any plastic on it. “It turned out to be a happy mistake, especially if you stay over more often.” Bridget’s face burned with embarrassment. “I’m sure you won’t be wanting to do washing every time I stay over.” “Well, no,” he admitted. “Maybe you could wear a diaper like you had when I found you in the woods.” Bridget felt herself blush again. Her face felt so hot that she thought it might melt. The thought of Derek seeing her, of smelling her, wearing a shitty diaper was too much. “Not just like that,” she said. He kissed her. “You want some breakfast?” She held on to him and returned the kiss, adding more tongue. “Not just yet,” she breathed when she finally got her breath. She pulled him on top of her when she fell back onto the bed. ### When they finished, her jeans had a slippery wet spot on them about the size of a saucer. She blushed. It wasn’t pee and it didn’t stain her jeans. It just felt uncomfortable. “I think it’s cute,” said Derek. She stuck out her tongue. “You would.” She followed him down the stairs to the kitchen and took a seat in one of the chairs. “I’ll cook for you,” he said. He opened a box of Pop Tarts and put them in the toaster and then joined her in the next chair. “Do you want to stay over again?” “Umm.” “I thought of a way to get the terrorist to break into the place I’ve been fixing up.” “Oh?” said Bridget. “I got some land,” he said. “There is a cute little farm house and some sheds. It used to be a fur farm. If we can convince the terrorist it is full of furry animals awaiting slaughter, he will probably try to raid the place.” “Then,” said Bridget, “he is burglarizing the place and we can claim self defense when we get him.” “Yes,” said Derek. “Do you have a gun I can borrow?” she asked. “Angela,” he looked at her sternly. “He ruined my life more. I get to do it.” “Yeah, there is a revolver in my night stand.” He looked like he was reluctant about the whole thing. “Cool,” she said. “You’ll need to teach me to shoot it. I am a little rusty since I haven’t shot a gun for years and never a revolver.” “Maybe this is a bad idea,” said Derek. “The terrorist killed children and I was blamed for it,” she said. “You don’t think it would do me any good to go to the police and tell them everything? If they believed me, I would go back to jail. If they didn’t, well it wouldn’t stop the terrorist either.” Derek sighed. “Well let’s think about pleasant things until we have to take you back home.” He pulled her in for a kiss. ### Bridget knocked on the door to her dorm room. Her keys were on her key ring and Flower had stolen it along with her car. She knocked again and Flower opened the door. “Angela?” “Yes, it’s me.” She pushed past her and entered her room. “What did you think you were doing leaving me like that?” Flower looked down. “Well, I--” “Well, I nothing. What happened to my car? What happened to my keys? What happened to Dave Matthews’ metal detector?” “I parked your car in the parking lot.” She handed me the keys. “Dave came by for the metal detector and I gave it back to him. What happened? What did they do to you?” “Oh good. I don’t want Dave to be mad at me,” Bridget said. “So how did you get away from the lumberjacks?” asked Flower. “I didn’t,” she said. That was the truth, but she wanted to work on Flower’s guilty conscious. “They turned me over to the police and my parents had to come get me. They are not happy with me either. My dad almost pulled me out of college.” “I’m so sorry,” said Flower. “Maybe you will think about the consequences of committing crimes, even if it is for something like saving trees.” Bridget angrily turned into her closet and got out a clean outfit. “What are they charging you with?” asked Flower. “They agreed to drop the charges since it didn’t look like I had gotten to any tree to spike it yet. It was good I got all the nails out before they caught us.” Bridget thought she had better give Flower a reprieve. She couldn’t spook her too much or else her plan to get the terrorist wouldn’t work. “Why were you wearing a diaper?” asked Flower. “I have bad dreams and it makes me wet the bed.” She gave Flower a stern look. “You will not repeat this to anyone.” “I promise.” “A wet diaper did not endear me to either the lumberjacks or the other inmates in the lockup.” “I’m so sorry,” said Flower. “That must have been so embarrassing. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” Bridget smiled. She thought about all the things she could do to Flower. Should she put her on a bacon diet? Make her stand there and wet her pants in front of Bridget, or better yet make her poop herself like Bridget had done Friday night? “I’ll think about how you can make things up to me. Until then, just keep the diapers a secret.” “I can do that, I think,” said Flower. “You’d better,” said Bridget. ### Bridget had been napping when she heard a knock at her door. She got up and threw on some shorts over her diaper and answered the door. It was Derek. “Oh hi,” she said and gave him a peck on the cheek. He returned her kiss with a full smooch and his hand reached behind her to pat her on the butt. His hand quickly sprang away when he felt something crinkle, but then he returned his hand to her bottom, this time beneath her shorts. Her door was wide open and she heard voices coming down the hallway. “Derek, stop,” she said. “Someone’s coming.” He made an oh expression of understanding and let go of her. He reached out into the hall and picked up the crowbar she had borrowed from Dave. “I thought I would return your crowbar.” He walked in and shut the door. “Thanks,” she said. “I had borrowed it.” “Well now that I am here....” He took her by the hand and sat on her bed and she sat next to him. They kissed. He seemed to have an interest in her diaper, so she finally gave up batting his had away. “I think they make you look adorable,” he said. “So your reason for liking me is not that I seem grown up anymore. It is now that I am childish.” Bridget frowned at him. “That is not it at all,” he said. He left her diaper alone and concentrated on what was under her shirt. “Is his better?” “Much,” she said. “I was taking a nap. That why I was diapered.” “I know. It’s the bad dreams. I don’t blame you at all.” He release her breast and straightened her shirt and just held her in his arms. “I am content for now,” said Bridget as she lay her head back against his shoulder. They talked for a few minutes until Flower came in the door. “Hey,” she said. “It’s almost 10:00. No guys allowed after 10:00.” She took a look at Derek’s thick arms and blushed. “Well you got about five minutes yet. Who is the hunk?” “Well this is Derek. He was my prom date. We just reconnected today.” Bridget smiled since she was in Derek’s arms. “Well, I got to get up early for work. Boss wants the stuff ready for a new shipment.” “Well call me,” Bridget said. After Derek left, Bridget pulled out her phone and called Dave Matthews. “Meet me downstairs. We got to talk.” ### Bridget went down to the lobby and waited crowbar in hand. “You wanted to see me?” he asked. “I just wanted to make sure you got your metal detector back okay,” she said. “I am sorry I didn’t get it back to you personally, but it was literally a matter of life or death. I returned it to my dorm room when I finished with it and was going to bring it to you as soon as I got back.” “I got it from your roommate,” he said. “Did you find anything with it?” “A bunch of bent nails.” “I am sorry that is all you found.” “I’m not,” said Bridget. “If I didn’t find those nails I am afraid someone would have gotten hurt.” “Well, okay,” he said. He sounded confused. “Oh, here is your crowbar.” “Good,” he said. “Flower didn’t know anything about it.” He took the crowbar from her. “If you need to borrow anything again, let me know if I can help. Maybe we could have found better things if I had gone with you.” “You sure my incontinence problem won’t bother you?” asked Bridget. “I meant as friends, Angela.” “I know you wanted more until you saw my pull-up fall out of my purse,” said Bridget. “I went home and cried.” “Angela,” he said, “I’m sorry, but aren’t you glad I found out before I asked you, than have me break up with you when I did find out. I do like you as friends and I don’t want to lose that.” “Well it doesn’t matter, I suppose,” she said. “I met a guy this weekend and he is my boyfriend now.” “Does he know about...?” “Yes he knows,” said Bridget, “but he likes me for who I am, not what I wear.” “Well, I am happy for you,” said Dave. “I am sorry about hurting your feelings.” “I am happy being friends with you, Dave. You saved my life by lending me the metal detector. I need to go to bed. Class is in the morning.” “Well goodnight.” She was already walking away toward the elevators. Soon the terrorist would not invade her dreams and she would wake up dry again. Flower carried the laundry baskets into the dorm room. “I got your laundry done.” She set the basket next to Bridget’s bed. Bridget looked up from her physics homework. “Thank you Flower.” “How long do I have to do your laundry until we are even?” she asked. “You volunteered to do my laundry,” said Bridget. “It is hardly a hardship compared to me going to jail for trying to keep you from facing a murder rap.” Asking Flower to do laundry once was the only time she took up the offer for Flower to make her experience up to her. Flower froze and a look of worry covered your face. “Anything else you want me to do?” “No,” said Bridget. She got stuck on a particular physics question and folded her assignment into her book. “I am going to go study with Ami now. If you want to join us you can.” “No,” said Flower. “I think Anise is coming over to study soon.” Bridget shivered. That Anise was creepy. She got up and left the dorm to meet with Ami. ### “So Ami,” said Bridget as the two sat in the library. “An object accelerates from rest on an inclined plane. The coefficient of friction is 0.23. How long does it take to get to the bottom?” “You got to add all your forces,” said Ami. “But I never did a friction problem before,” Bridget said. “Just multiply it to the mass and acceleration.” “Oh, duh,” said Bridget. She had done this many years before the first time she was in college. She should have remembered. If physics wasn’t so hard she would have remembered. She quickly figured out the problem and looked in the back of the book to make sure her answer matched what she got. “Anise is driving me nuts,” said Ami. “It’s not just the music anymore either. I walked in on her having sex.” “Eww,” said Bridget. “That’s not the worst of it,” she said. “I thought she was having a Lesbian moment because the person she was with had dyed black pigtails.” “Really?” “Well it turned out I just thought he was a girl. I never saw someone try to pull up their skinny jeans so awkwardly. He had to sit down for quite a bit before he could zip his pants.” “Ick, Ami.” Bridget covered her eyes. “Need mind bleach.” “It was pretty gross. So what are you doing this weekend?” “My new boyfriend and I are panting his new place,” said Bridget. “Cool,” said Ami. “You mind if help?” “Well I guess you can help.” She thought about Flower. If Flower knew where her boyfriend’s farm was, she might get suspicious when they were ready to set the trap. “You just can’t tell Flower. I really want a place where I can get away from her.” “Good point,” said Ami. “I wish I had a place to get away from Anise.” “I said you could come to my dorm room anytime she gets to you.” She frowned when she thought about the growing friendship between Flower and Anise. She had come home to Anise and Flower studying together.” “So did you tell your new boyfriend about your nighttime problem?” asked Ami. “I don’t know how I would broach the subject.” “He knows.” Bridget felt her face flush with warmth. “I didn’t tell him; he found out on his own.” “From the redness of your face, that must have been embarrassing.” Bridget nodded. “At least he was cool about it: especially when I ran out and he encouraged me to stay the night anyway. Talk about embarrassing.” Ami’s mouth opened in shock. “You didn’t pee on him in bed?” Bridget felt her face turn red again and nodded. “Well he is a keeper if he kept you after that.” “Thanks,” said Bridget. She did wonder how long he would put up with her. ### It was warm outside. Bridget dipped her brush in the paint and brushed it on the bare wood of the fence. The fence around the compound had decayed in places, but Derek had repaired it with new wood. “This place is pretty cool,” said Ami. “Thanks for letting me come along.” “No problem,” she said. “Derek and I had a lot of work to do to get this place in shape.” “How is the painting coming along,” asked Derek. “It’s coming,” said Bridget. “Well thanks for doing this Angela.” He turned to Ami. “And thank you Angela’s friend.” “No problem,” said Ami. “I’m just happy to see Angela with someone. She had an unhappy experience a few weeks ago when a guy found about her...” “Ami!” said Bridget. “Don’t go there.” “I like her anyway,” said Derek. “Besides she can’t help it.” “I’m right here,” said Bridget. “I know,” said Derek. He stood behind her and wrapped his strong lumberjack arms around her. “She’s a keeper,” he said to Ami. Bridget leaned back against Derek and he tightened his grip on her. “How long do you think it will take before we are ready?” Bridget asked. The sheds still needed paint. Derek had spent the morning scraping the old paint off. It was pretty much down to the bare wood. “A few more weeks I think,” he said. “We do need to paint the sheds today before we can call it a day.” “Well, let’s get started,” said Ami. The sheds were not really that tall. Ami and Bridget were able to paint all the way up to the eves without a latter. The ends of the sheds were different. The highest point in the shed was about twelve feet tall. Derek got on a ladder and painted that part. When they finally finished, Bridget was starved. “I’m hungry,” she said. “Yeah, we skipped lunch,” said Derek, “but I will make it up to you and take you both out to eat.” “Cool,” said Ami. “I’m thinking Mexican,” said Bridget. “What do you think of Rancho Viejo?” asked Derek. “Good enough,” she said. ### The server brought them their plates and Bridget smiled. “Ooh, I can’t wait to eat this.” “Looks good to me too, Angela,” said Ami. She stuck her fork in her burrito and it was so hot that steam came out from where it was opened. “I’d wait a bit to take a bite there, Ami,” said Derek. “It looks hot.” “I think I can handle it. Thai food gets hotter and I eat that a lot,” said Ami. “Temperature, not spiciness,” said Bridget. “Oh.” Ami blew on her burrito and then frowned. “Thanks. I would have hated to discover that after I put it in my mouth.” The meals cooled and they were able to eat them before too long. “So what is next on the agenda today?” asked Bridget. “Well we got to visit that farm and look around. Also, weren’t you going to paint the sign?” asked Derek. “Yeah,” said Bridget. “I have the perfect logo planned.” “What is the sign for?” asked Ami. “We were going to give the place a cute whimsical feel,” said Bridget. The last thing she wanted anyone to find out about was the sign. The plan called for burning the sign as soon as she had taken down the terrorist. The last thing she needed was for the police to find out they had lured the terrorist there. “There might be questions that would take her actions out of the realm of self defense. She wouldn’t let that stop her. Owl was the terrorist who crashed her tanker truck into a school. He had to pay. “I always thought signs on farms that aren’t really farms are kind of kitschy,” said Ami. “Maybe the sign isn’t a good idea after all,” said Derek. He took her hand and squeezed it.” “I guess,” she said and pouted. “I just have to decorate all the other rooms in the farmhouse with kitsch.” She smiled. “Maybe put one of those old-women-bending-over decorations in the garden. How does that sound?” Ami shook her head. “What are you like forty?” she asked. Bridget panicked. She was in her forties now that she thought about it. Still, Angela’s body was still nineteen years old. “What do you mean?” she asked. “How old do I look?” She started to shake. She skipped the pull-up because she didn’t anticipate seeing the terrorist and she was wearing sexy new panties for Derek. She started to wet herself. “I mean, my mother likes that kitsch.” “Oh,” said Bridget. She managed to stop peeing, but wasn’t sure she was still dry. She had to pee even worse now that she had let some out. “Excuse me.” She got up and hurried to the bathroom. The whole time she was careful to keep her butt pointed away from the center of the dining room. When she looked in the mirror, her butt was soaked. There was a wet spot the size of a luncheon plate. She sighed. It could have been worse. She went to a stall and sat down. She wonder what to do. She left all her clothes at Derek’s farm. They had come here in Ami’s little red car. Maybe she had clothes though. Bridget always kept a change of clothes in the trunk of her Ford Crown Vic, but that was too far away. At least the jeans were black. She finished peeing and examined her red and white checked lacy panties that matched her red and white checked lacy bra. Hopefully it would dry before Derek began to feel playful. She sprayed a bit of perfume in the crotch of her panties so she wouldn’t smell bad, but she was pretty wet despite soaking most of it up with toilet paper. She emerged from the bathroom and returned to Ami and Derek. Fortunately they were finished and Derek was just paying the check. ### “See you, Ami,” said Bridget as she left in her own car. She shivered. Her peed jeans were starting to get cold. Fortunately she was able to climb into Derek’s warm pick-up. It was hot all day so her pants would probably dry in no time. Eastern Washington was almost a desert. They drove along for quite some time. Bridget kept stealing chances to brush the denim material around her crotch and bottom. She was getting dryer and dryer as they drove along. Finally they pulled into a place that said, “Maryland Albright Fur Farm.” They got out. Bridget noticed one thing right away. There were rows upon rows of long sheds instead of only two like Derek’s farm had. Also there were the sounds. “What is making that horrible noise,” she asked. A woman with two men on either side came out of the shed. “What can we do for you?” They didn’t look very friendly. One of the men had a pitch fork and she could see the other had a lump at his underarm that was probably a concealed handgun. “I’m Derek Stevens,” he said. “I thought I was expected.” Her demeanor changed immediately. She smiled and extended a hand. “I am Maryland Albright,” she said. She waved off the men. “We didn’t know who you were. If we didn’t guard this place twenty-four seven, then some fools might come and let all the animals out of their cages.” “I understand,” said Bridget. “We got sent a death threat and we hadn’t even got out starting shipment yet.” She spit on the ground. “We just put up our shingle and wham: we were instantly swarmed but eco-nuts.” “You two are awfully young to start out a new farm,” the lady said. “Well I inherited 100 mink from a distant uncle,” said Derek. “I thought I would give it a go.” “Well, that will make two coats,” said the lady. “We are just starting out,” said Bridget. “Derek said that you promised to show us the ropes.” “Sure. Follow me.” True to her word, the woman showed them everything. The sounds were unbearable. The mink screeched and shuffled in their cages. They could even hear the mink outside the sheds. Bridget grabbed Derek by the shirt and whispered, “Give me your iPhone.” He handed it to her. “I ask that you not take pictures in here,” the lady said. “I’m not,” said Bridget. “I just got a text from a friend.” She tapped a few keys and turned on the sound recorder before slipping the phone in her purse. At the end of the tour they got to see where they killed the mink. There was blood everywhere. She got to see a device in action that shocked the mink to death. A machine next to it skinned the mink. She recognized the electrocution machine from the shed. The one in Derek’s farm was rusted and old, while this one was brand new. She felt sick to her stomach. Sure, the mink were just animals, but she didn’t want to watch them die. The whole purpose of this tour was to find out if there were details she was lacking in setting her trap. The sound was something she hadn’t thought about that was an important detail. She hadn’t thought about the blood either, but that wasn’t something she wanted or even needed to duplicate. “Derek, can we go?” she said. “You haven’t seen how we tan and clean the hides,” said the lady. “You need to know that part if you are going to be successful in this business.” “Go to the truck,” he said. “I’ll learn the rest of what we need to learn.” Bridget left and finally made it to the truck. She sat and waited for Derek for another couple of hours. ### “Well thank you, Maryland, for showing us the ropes. Sorry about my fiancé. She’s a bit squeamish.” “No problem, kid,” she said to Derek. “She’ll get used to it after awhile.” “No, I won’t,” said Bridget when Derek got into the truck. “You won’t, what?” “Get used to it. Intellectually I knew they killed the mink for fur. Mink are mean things too, so I have no sympathy for them, but I didn’t know there was all that blood and I didn’t imagine that mink were killed like they did.” He pulled the truck onto the highway and they took off back to his place. “You want to forget this and come up with another plan?” “No, we got what we need,” said Bridget. The recording of live mink was all they needed to bait the trap. Bridget had saved that on his iPhone. They would be ready. “If you’re okay with it,” he said. “I’m fine. You just have to stop somewhere soon because I got to pee.” “You didn’t go at the farm?” he asked. “No,” said Bridget. “You were with me the whole time until I went back to the truck.” “Well I went after that.” “Jerk,” she said. “I didn’t say we weren’t stopping,” said Derek. “You better stop.” He pulled into the next gas station and Bridget ran into the bathroom. She couldn’t help thinking he was turned on by her predicament. ### The two finally arrived back at Derek’s house. “Are you spending the night?” he asked. Bridget nodded nervously. The last time had been a disaster, but he had been night about the wet bed. This time she had brought diapers, but that was a different thing. She had also brought her own pajamas to wear to bed. She thought they would play it by ear. “Good,” he said. “How about I give you some ice cream?” He left her in the living room while he went to the kitchen. Soon Derek had returned with the ice cream. “I thought you would like mint chocolate chip.” He brought the two bowls and set them on the coffee table. The two sat at the love seat. “Do you think our plan will work?” she asked Derek. He nodded. “You have nothing to worry about.” He put an arm around her. Bridget took a bite of her ice cream. “This is my favorite ice cream. All it is missing is some pie.” Derek put a hand over her stomach. It was flat and smooth. “Well, you have room for pie. Unfortunately, I don’t have any.” She knew her own stomach as Bridget Addison hadn’t been that smooth. At least with the younger body she could eat better. However, she found herself full much quicker since becoming Angela. She knew she would probably too full for pie anyway after she finished the ice cream. The being young again was the only advantage of this whole situation. She felt the guilt come back over stealing the youth from Angela. She reached under his shirt and put her hand on his six pack. At least he had a job with exercise. That might change when he finished school and took an engineering job. She hoped not, but she also hoped she was not so superficial that something like that would matter. Besides, she would not stay young forever. Angela would eventually grow older. She didn’t know how they ever concentrated on finishing their ice cream, but as soon as the bowls were empty their arms were around each other and their mouths were too busily intertwined to talk. Bridget reached up and unbuttoned Derek’s shirt and slid it off his shoulders. At the same time she felt her pants being unzipped and she lifted her but to ease the removal of her pants. “Did you have an accident earlier?” he asked. She looked down. Her panties, although dry, were stained yellow. She felt tears well up in her eyes. Had she finally grossed him out. “Yes,” she admitted. “It was in the restaurant at lunch.” “Why didn’t you say something earlier? You could have changed into something more comfortable.” His arms were around her. He pulled up her t-shirt, exposing her breasts, and dried her tears with the corner. “Are you sure you want someone like me, Derek?” It was one thing wetting at night. She probably should have worn the pull-ups for daytime, but she hadn’t because she wanted to wear her matching bra and panties for Derek. “Because you wet your pants earlier?” he asked. Bridget nodded and bit her lip in anticipation of what he was going to say. Derek held her tightly in his arms. She shivered slightly as she sat on his lap in her underwear. Her pants were pulled down so her panties were completely exposed. “I can’t say that the daytime accidents thrilled me,” he said, “but I am more worried about how bad they make you feel.” He squeezed her tightly. “I am not letting you go over something like this.” She had both hands around his neck, but she squeezed tightly. Then she leaned back and separated her legs slightly as Derek’s hand slipped inside her slightly damp panties. ### She moaned in short little bursts and thrashed as she came, then her body relaxed in Derek’s arms. “Hold me,” she said. She relaxed as he held her close until her breathing returned to normal. “You got a long day tomorrow finishing your sign and setting up,” he said. “How about we take showers and we go to bed.” “Yeah,” she said, “I got homework too.” She reluctantly disengaged from Derek and picked up her clothes from the floor before walking upstairs naked to the shower. The hot water cleaned the sweat, dry pee, and cum from her body. She scrubbed until she knew her skin was clean. Then she got out of the shower and dried off. She pulled a diaper from her bag and put it on. A t-shirt went over that. The she looked in the mirror. Her diaper stuck out obviously from the bottom of her t-shirt. She had thought the shirt would cover it. Well maybe if she hurried and got under the covers. She left the bathroom and headed to the bedroom. Derek was already there in boxer shorts. His wet hair showed he had showered in the other bathroom. She just peeked around corner and she felt her face heat up with more embarrassment. “Well come on in,” he said. Bridget pulled the front of her shirt down the best she could as she entered the bedroom. She looked down at her feet. Derek had felt her diapers in her dorm room, but this was the first time she had been in front of him with her diapers not covered by shorts or anything. He got up and pulled her gently toward the bed. “You know, I think it’s cute.” “Really,” asked Bridget. “Yeah.” “You don’t think I am a big disgusting baby?” She looked into his eyes and then glanced down at the bulge in his boxers. “Are you turned on by me being dressed like this?” “A little. I am more turned on by how shy and embarrassed you are.” He hopped in bed and pulled the blankets up to make room for her. She hopped in beside him and let him spoon her. “Okay,” he said. “No nightmares because I have you in my arms.” ### No nightmares was optimistic. Owl invaded her sleep. The whole plan went off as planned until it became time to act. The gun, which she held in her hand, refused to go off as she tried to shoot the terrorist. He then got away and the lights went out. As she was looking for him he found her first. Arms reached out of the darkness and grabbed her around the waist. She struggled. “I got you know and you are going to pay,” said Owl. He let go with one hand and grabbed a knife and pulled it across her neck. “You won’t be bothering me anymore.” She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. The only muscle that moved was her bladder muscles releasing her pee into her diaper. “Don’t worry; it’s me,” said Derek. “It was only a dream.” Bridget woke covered with a layer of sweat. Her diaper was warm about her middle and she knew it was wet.” It was still dark in the room and night time, but Derek was there. “So what happens now?” he asked. “Do you need me to change you or do you just wait until morning.” Bridget felt her diaper. She was in no danger of leaking, but she didn’t want Derek to be grossed out by her wet diaper. “I’d rather you just hold me until I get back to sleep, but I will defer to your wishes if you’d rather I change.” His arms held her as they lay intertwined. His hand pressed against the still warm crotch of her diaper. Then it settled around her waist. They drifted off to sleep. ### Bridget smiled as she drew the cartoon characters on the sign. A smiling anthropomorphic mink stood beside a smiling anthropomorphic rabbit. The mink was dressed in rabbit skins and the rabbit wore a mink coat. She lettered below it, “The Cuddly Creatures Fur Farm.” “I like it,” said Derek. “I needed something light and happy after yesterday,” she said. She wasn’t one to think about where things came from. Fur coats came from expensive stores on Rodeo Drive. Besides real minks were mean and they hissed. “Was it something about us?” asked Derek. “No, it was the other fur farm,” she said. “It was too much, like taking a tour of a sausage factory. I don’t want to see how it is done.” “Understood,” he said. “I think your picture is pretty good.” “Now how do we get the terrorist to attack us?” she asked. “I have the perfect plan,” said Derek. “I think Ogre has the perfect costume for this. I will have to check his schedule.” Bridget woke up in her dorm room from her usual nightmare. She screamed before realizing she was inside her dorm. “Enough already,” said Flower. “Every morning for two almost two months, you have been waking me up with screaming. I am sick of it.” Bridget sat up in bed. “I’m sorry,” she moaned, as she started to get up. Since Flower now knew about the diapers, she didn’t bother covering them. She turned back to Flower. “You know what?” she asked. Her voice had an angry edge to it. I am sick of it too. I am also sick of wetting the bed every single night because my dreams are so horrible and so intense because of an event that happened in my life years ago.” “That does sound horrible,” said Flower. “Maybe you need to relax more.” “That’d be nice except we are engineering students,” said Bridget. “Well it is Saturday and I am going back to sleep,” said Flower. “I have a party to go to.” “I’m going to try to get up. I’ll take a nap later.” Bridget sighed when she looked down at her wet diaper. It had been over a month since she and Derek had set up their fake fur farm and Bridget had yet to get close enough to the terrorist to dangle the bait in his face. Flower hadn’t even mentioned her uncle. In fact it was going to be the first of November tomorrow, which meant today was Halloween. “Oh crap,” she said. “I’m going to need a costume.” “Yeah, I got mine last month,” said Flower. “It is really me. What are you going as? We did get invited to the party a Sigma Nu.” “I’ll think of something,” she said. “Good,” said Flower, “then maybe I can sleep in a bit.” ### “So Ami,” said Bridget. “I need a costume. Let’s go shopping at Goodwill.” “Sure,” said Ami. “but do you really think that a thrift store would have Halloween costumes?” “Why not?” asked Bridget. “Well don’t they just sell old stuff?” “Yeah,” said Bridget. “You’d be surprised all the stuff that you can make costumes out of at a thrift store.” Ami and Bridget got into her black Crown Vic and Bridget drove to the nearest thrift store. They walked in and looked around. “I’ve never been to one of these,” said Ami. She looked around at all the racks of clothing and shelves full of used merchandise. She pointed. “Look. A computer graveyard.” “You never went to a place like this?” “Nope. My mother taught me to buy new at a department store.” “Well we got to educate you. Come on look at all this stuff.” Bridget skipped down the aisles to the women’s accessories and started picking up and modeling purses. “Should I go as a bag lady?” Ami giggled. She picked up a pair of boots. “Oh cool. Hooker boots. I can go to the party dressed as a hooker.” “There is the spirit. But are you sure you want to dress like a hooker?” “Or I could dress emo?” “Please don’t,” said Bridget. “Yeah. One Anise is more than enough.” Bridget looked on a table and saw something catch her eye. “Oh, cool,” she said. She picked up a cap and put it on. “I used to have a Chevron hat just like this when I--” She cut herself off just in time. “When you what?” asked Ami. “When I lived near a Chevron,” she finished. “You wore a Chevron trucker hat?” asked Ami. “Well, yeah,” she said. She really did wear the Chevron hat when she drove her tanker truck. She decided not to mention that to Ami. “Well I am board and I want to go,” said Ami. “I am a store-bought costume type of gal.” “Hold on,” said Bridget. “Let’s look at those computers.” “Fine,” said Ami. The computers were junk. There was not a single computer there that looked like it would run Linux on just to experiment, let alone find a use to justify its space. “You were right. I see nothing here.” “Now can we go?” “Wait.” A familiar black box caught her eye. One of the staff had put a Cobra CB radio with the computers. She had had a model like that. It was a rather expensive radio, but the price only read $10.00. She picked it up. “I’m getting this.” “What is it?” “It’s a CB radio,” she said, “and it’s a steal.” She walked back, picked up the trucker hat, and then walked down the aisle to find a flannel shirt. “What is all this stuff?” asked Ami. “My costume. I am going as a sexy trucker.” She laid the stuff on the counter and paid. “Finally we can go to a real costume shop,” said Ami. ### The costume shop at the mall was crowded. Still Ami wanted to look. “I’ll meet you in the car,” said Bridget. She left and went to Radio Shack and bought a CB antenna. The sales person gave her a funny look, but she ignored him. She couldn’t wait to rush out to her car. When she got to the parking lot she hooked up the antenna. Since her car was a former police car, it already had a place to mount it. She wired it in there and then fished the wire under the carpet of her car toward the driver’s seat. It was just a matter of time before she got the CB radio mounted underneath the instrument panel of her car. By the time she finished, Ami came back and got in the car. She had a bag from the Halloween store. “What costume did you decide on?” “I will reveal all at the party,” said Ami,” but not until then.” “Fine.” “So what did you do? You seem pretty excited.” “Watch.” Bridget flipped the switch on her CB and turned it to channel 19. All the sudden she could hear truckers talking inside her car. “Truckers?” asked Ami. “Yeah. I got to learn the lingo since I am going as a sexy trucker.” Bridget smiled. She missed talking on the CB the way she used to when she drove a truck. They pulled on the road and Bridget started driving. “This is a side of you I haven’t seen before,” said Ami. “Well, if a costume is worth wearing, it is worth learning the part,” said Bridget. “Whatever.” Bridget pulled up behind a UPS semi truck going at a slow rate of speed. She picked up her CB mike and keyed it. “Breaker 1-9, Buster Brown, I’m knocking at your back door trying to get around.” “Go ahead, four wheeler.” Bridget pulled around the truck and smiled. She watched as Ami waved at the driver. Ami turned back to her. “You need to learn the lingo?” She raised her eyebrows and gave her a skeptical look. “Sounds like you knew the lingo ahead of time.” “Well, I watched Convoy and Smokey and the Bandit.” “I know Smokey and the Bandit,” said Ami. “Burt Reynolds was a hottie. Never heard of Convoy though.” “Convoy is another trucker movie.” “I thought so,” said Ami. Bridget pulled into the campus and parked her vehicle. “Well, we are here. Come get me before you go to the party.” Ami got her stuff and started to leave. “I’ll do that.” Bridget was excited about the party. She smiled and got her bag of stuff from good will. She looked in the car and looked at the CB. She disconnected the microphone and brought it in with her. ### At about eight that evening there was a knock at the door. “They’re here,” said Flower. She grabbed her headband and tied it on under her chin. There were petals around the headband and chin strap, which combined with her green dress, made her look like a gigantic flower. She then pulled on large foam gloves in the shape of leaves and then went to open the door. Of course she had to remove one of her gloves to manipulate the door knob. Bridget giggled at Flower’s effort. At least her sexy trucker outfit was cumbersome to walk around in. “What’s so funny,” demanded Ami as she walked into the room. She was dressed only in a flesh-toned body suit and a long blond wig. “I’m not really naked.” “No,” she said, “it’s Flower. She had giant leaf hands and can’t hold anything.” Flower waved her leaf hands and struck a pose like a flower. “So who are you supposed to be?” “Well I am Lady Godiva,” she said. “Don’t you read?” She twirled around. “I am lucky I got some sun this summer because the flesh-toned body suits don’t come in yellow.” She smiled. “I think you mean they don’t come in pale white,” said Flower. “Yeah?” said Ami. “It doesn’t matter if I am pure white or tanned. The other Asian students think I am not one of them because I am ABC.” “ABC?” asked Bridget. “American Born Chinese.” She waved her hands. “Who needs them? Let’s find some frat boys.” Bridget donned her trucker hat and picked up her CB mike. “Yeah. Let’s get truckin’.” She opened the door. “Hey guys. Can I come with you?” A girl with honey-brown hair pulled into pig tails stood there. She had on only a pink t-shirt and a disposable adult diaper. In her hand she held a bottle containing orange juice. Across her shoulders she held a diaper bag. “Who are you?” asked Ami. “It’s me, your roommate Anise,” said the girl. Her hair was no longer an unnatural black; her piercings were gone. Her skin was still pale though. “But, but...,” Ami started to say. “But what?” she asked. “The rest of you are wearing costumes.” “You’re wearing a diaper,” said Flower. “Yeah. I’m a baby. Ami is dressed like a naked lady, and Flower looks like a plant. It’s Halloween.” Ami scooted close to Bridget and whispered, “Are those the same brand you wear, Angela?” Bridget elbowed Ami in the ribs. “Shush.” “I’m just joking,” she said. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be seen in diapers?” asked Bridget. She would have been mortified if anyone other than Ami or Flower saw her so dressed. “Nope,” said Anise. “It’s a costume and it’s Halloween.” “And the piercings and the normal hair?” asked Ami. “Part of the costume. Don’t worry. I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.” “I kind of like her like this,” Bridget whispered to Ami. “Well let’s find some frat boys,” said Anise. ### Fraternity row was on the opposite side of campus from the dorms and it was cold. Bridget sure shivered. She had put her short shorts away when it started to get chilly last week, but she had gotten some out for the costume. Her legs felt numb from the cold. She looked at Anise who wore flip flops. Her legs were as bear as her own. “Aren’t you cold?” asked Bridget. “I am freezing.” Anise held up her bottle of orange juice. “I thought of that already. I got vodka in here. The alcohol is warming me up. It only feels a little chilly.” Bridget smiled. At least with Anise wearing diapers, the attention wouldn’t be on her pull-ups that she wore under her own shorts. She was tempted to go without pull-ups, but even the thought of wetting in a frat house in front of fraternity boys mortified her. Flower waved her leaf-gloved hands. “At least I nice and warm in my costume.” Bridget stuck her tongue out. “And you would be surprised how warm a nude suit is,” said Ami. Bridget stood by Anise. “At least the two of us will be glad to get inside.” “I must admit that you’re right,” said Anise. They finally arrived at the frat house and they were immediately let inside. Ami quickly caught the attention of the frat boys and Flower and Anise quickly left for the drinks leaving Bridget alone. She grabbed a small plate of chips and some beer and sat down in one of the couches. She watched the partiers dance. A month before, Bridget would have been dancing with the other partiers, but not that she had Derek, she didn’t want to dance with anyone else. She had fun watching the goings on of the other partiers. She wished Derek was there with her now. He was probably cutting down trees somewhere. At least Flower was busy partying and too busy to be getting into trouble by spiking trees or stuff. ### Across the room Flower giggled as Anise picked a shot glass full of Jagermeister with her mouth out of Flower’s cleavage. “My turn,” said Flower. Anise pulled at the collar of her baby shirt. “You can’t. This shirt doesn’t let me show cleavage.” She handed Flower the shot glass and Flower had to drink it regularly. A bit later they came back with some beers and sat by Bridget. “Is this a great party or what?” asked Flower. She had almost tripped herself just walking across the room. “Must be pretty good if you are drinking Jagermeister,” said Bridget. “You do know it contains deer blood.” “Nah uh,” said Flower. She stuck her tongue out. “According to Snopes, that is not true.” “Really?” asked Anise. “Yeah, really.” “Well all this drinking and stuff is making me have to pee,” said Flower. “You want to go to the bathroom with me?” “Yeah,” said Anise. She stood up and did a little pee dance. They left and Bridget sat by herself. “So who are you supposed to be?” a girl Bridget didn’t know asked. She was wearing a Silk Spectre costume. “Oh, my costume?” Bridget stood up and held her CB mike. “I’m a sexy trucker.” “Oh, that’s cute. That’s probably a lot easier to put together than mine. I spent a couple of weeks on mine, but I go to comic book conventions. I already won a prize on it at one, so I am just wearing it for Halloween.” “I like it,” said Bridget. “I never saw Watchmen, but I read the graphic novel a while back.” “You missed out. You can still get it on DVD though.” “I guess I missed out if they did the graphic novel justice,” said Bridget. “Are you kidding?” said the girl. “It was awesome.” “Cool then,” said Bridget. Flower and Anise came back from the bathroom. “Can we go?” asked Anise. “Already?” asked Bridget. She looked at her watch. “It’s not even midnight.” Anise held her crotch and wiggled. Her eyes looked at Bridget as if begging. Flower spoke up. “She says she has to pee, but if she takes her diaper off to go, she can’t get it back on.” “Yeah, if I pull on the tapes, the plastic comes up with it.” She did another pee dance. “Can we please go? I really got to pee or I will have an accident.” “You are wearing a diaper,” said the Watchman girl. “Just use it.” “I’m not going to pee in a diaper,” said Anise. “Hey, Flower,” said Bridget, “please get Ami and ask her if she is ready to go. Anise, sit here; that might make it easier to hold it if you are sitting.” Flower left and Anise sat beside her. “Thank you,” she said. “No problem.” Bridget did know how it felt to wet herself and wanted to spare Anise the embarrassment. Ami came over and smiled at Anise. “Can’t you just wet your diaper?” “No,” said Bridget. “You will be able to tell because the diaper will discolor. Everyone would know.” “You’re free to walk back.” “I don’t want to walk by myself dressed like this,” said Anise. “I’ll go with her,” said Bridget. “Thanks, Angela,” said Flower. “She’s my friend. I’ll go to.” “Well the boy I was talking to ended up being a douche. I guess I can call it a night, but you have to start treating Angela and I with respect,” said Ami. “So far you have been mean and petty and you still insist on playing your music loud.” Anise crossed her legs and crouched pretty low. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll be nicer.” “Let’s go,” said Bridget. “I don’t think she has that long.” They stepped out into the cold and Bridget shivered. She looked at Anise who had her hand rammed into the crotch of her diaper. She didn’t know how long Anise could wait. “Just pee your diaper already,” said Ami. “There is no one out here who can see.” “But what about everyone in the lobby at the dorm?” she whined. She continued walking, but then had to stop and cross her legs every few minutes. Bridget had to pee as well and the cold weather didn’t help. She wondered why she decided that short shorts were okay attire for Halloween. Already the wind was picking up and dark clouds were starting to blot out the stars and the moon. They were about halfway to the dorms when Anise suddenly stopped. She held her hands at her crotch and tried to cross her legs. Bridget shivered. “Keep moving. We’re halfway there.” “Yeah,” said Flower. “I got to pee really bad too.” “If I move, I’ll pee,” said Anise. Then she froze and got a blank look on her face. Ami and Flower both stared as Anise wet her diaper. The wetness indicators slowly disappeared and Bridget could see the diaper get a bit thicker as Anise wet it. The diaper slowly discolored as well. “Well,” said Ami. “I guess that takes care of that.” Anise stopped peeing and looked down at herself. She started to cry. Bridget put her arm around her to comfort her. “We’ll get back to the dorm and you can get changed,” said Flower. “It’s okay.” “But everyone will see what I did,” she whined. “Okay,” said Bridget. “You can change in the back of my car. Ami will go up and get you some other clothes.” “Won’t people wonder why she changed out of her costume?” asked Flower. “Fine,” said Bridget. “We’ll send Ami to go up and get a new diaper. They come in packs and surely Anise has more.” “No,” said Anise. “I only have one. I sorta borrowed it from my grandmother.” “Oh nice,” said Ami. Bridget sighed. “Just come on. I’ll find another diaper for you.” They kept walking until they got to Bridget’s car. Bridget let Anise in and then said, “Okay. Here’s the deal. If you mention anything about where you got a spare diaper, then everyone and I meant everyone will be told why you needed it. Do you think you can be discrete about where your spare diaper came from?” “Yes,” said Anise. “What’s the big secret?” Bridget ignored her. She opened her trunk and pulled out the overnight bag she carried in case she stayed at Derek’s. She had promised never again to be caught without diapers if she needed to sleep over. She pulled out a diaper, closed her bag, closed the trunk, and handed it to Anise. “Does your boyfriend know you need those,” asked Flower. Anise looked up at Bridget and she felt herself turn red. “Shush, Flower.” Flower looked embarrassed. “Sorry.” Bridget looked at Anise. “Just change.” When Anise didn’t move, she asked. “Are you waiting for one of us to change you?” Anise blushed and just closed the door. It was dark so no one could really see in the car really well. Ami and Bridget just waited outside the car. All the sudden they heard a peeing sound coming from the front of Bridget’s car. They quickly walked around to see Flower squatting with her dress hiked up and panties around her ankles. “What,” she said. “I had to pee and I am not wearing a diaper.” Bridget pointed behind her. “The dorm is right there and has bathrooms. What are you going to wipe with.” Flower just shrugged and pulled up her pants. “It’s not really a problem.” Anise emerged from the car and they went up stairs to their rooms. “Thanks, Angela,” said Anise. “No problem.” Bridget left as Anise and Ami went off to their rooms. She and Flower went off to their own room. “Now that was an interesting situation,” said Flower. “Yeah. Let’s get to sleep.” “Good idea,” said Flower. “My uncle is coming by in the morning.” Bridget started to wet her own pull-up at the thought of the terrorist. She barely managed to stop before her saturated pull-up leaked. In a shaky voice she managed to speak. “Please wake me up in time to get ready before he gets here.” “Sure,” said Flower. She already had her dress off and was putting on her jammies. Bridget went in her walk-in closet and got ready for bed before emerging diapered. As soon as Flower went to sleep, she called Derek and told him about her day and that it was now time to set the trap. ### Bad dreams were a common occurrence for Bridget. Tonight was no different. She was nervous about baiting the trap. Every scenario she went through in her mind ended with the terrorist trying to physically assault her in her dorm room. The darkest of those scenarios involved Flower joining in. She wondered how Flower was going to react when Bridget finally killed the terrorist. In the last dream of the night, Flower came along on the trip to free the fake minks. After the terrorist was defeated, Flower became enraged and attacked her. “Angela, Angela,” said Flower as she shook Bridget awake. Bridget scooted backward across her bed, almost to the window to get away. She reached her arms up to shield her face from any attack. “You told me to wake you,” said Flower. Bridget looked around. She was in her dorm and Flower did not have that look of hatred in her eyes that she had in the dream. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “It was another nightmare.” “It’s getting worse, Angela,” said Flower. “You need to see the school psychologist. I am going to make you an appointment today after Physics. It’s not normal to have nightmares on a constant basis.” “No,” said Bridget. “Absolutely not.” “They can help you,” said Flower. “Going to a psychologist doesn’t make you a crazy person. Lots of normal people go to psychologists to make them feel better about problems. Anise has talked to the school psychologist.” “Fine,” said Bridget. “Just give me two weeks. If things don’t get better then, then I will go.” She counted on dealing with Owl first. If she did that, then both her wetting problem and her dreams would cease. She just had to get the terrorist to go for the bait and she was going to have to get it right the first time. “Fine,” said Flower. “But no putting it off after that.” Flower turned to make her bed. “My uncle will be coming by after class today, so I just thought you should get up in time to make your bed.” “Fine,” said Bridget. “Let me shower first.” She left to shower and soon came back to the dorm in fresh clothing. She hurried to make her bed and clean her room as well. She may as well play nice with Flower since she was using the visit as a chance to bait her trap. She just hoped Flower wouldn’t be caught up along with the terrorist. “Thanks for straightening the room,” said Flower. “I don’t want him to think I am only partying.” “Even if that is true?” asked Bridget. “I guess I do party a lot,” said Flower, “but you’re only young once. I am still making A’s and B’s, so my parents don’t need to find out about the over partying.” “Well that is true,” said Bridget. “And Angela,” she said, “thank you for being good to Anise when she wet her baby costume. I know you really didn’t like her at all and you and Ami could have reveled in making sure she was super embarrassed.” “Well let’s just say I know what it’s like,” said Bridget. Flower smiled. “And I know you had to reveal that you had diapers to Anise when you gave her one of yours. That was really nice.” “Yeah,” said Bridget. “I’d appreciate you keeping that a secret.” “You know I will.” Flower picked up her backpack. “Well I got to go to class.” She walked out of the dorm. Bridget packed her own bag and grabbed an extra pull-up for her backpack. If she saw the terrorist, maybe a pull-up wouldn’t be enough. She put it away and put a night diaper in her bag. She would change into it in the bathroom before returning to her dorm room. Until then a pull-up would be more than sufficient. ### After her last class Bridget hurried to the restroom. She did particularly need to go, but she knew she would be wetting herself the second Flower’s uncle appeared. She decided to go before returning to the dorm because she didn’t know if he was there already. She quickly sat and tried to go, but only a little came out. She had just gone before class anyway and she hoped she would be all right. Just to make sure, she put on the diaper. The top of the diaper stuck up a little bit above her waistband, so she tucked in her shirt. It was cold out, so her jacket would cover any bulge. When she finally returned to her dorm room, Owl and Flower were already there. “Hi, Angela,” said Flower, “this is my Uncle Owl. Owl, this is my roommate Angela.” She started peeing and couldn’t stop. She couldn’t believe she could pee as much as she did considering she thought she had just emptied her bladder. The padding of her diaper was more than sufficient to absorb the urine though. She forced herself to take Owl’s hand and shake it. “It is nice to meet you.” “It’s nice to meet you too,” he said. Bridget picked up her phone and discretely texted, “He’s here.” She then turned to Flower. “What did you have planned?” “Well my uncle has to give a lecture tomorrow about how to write your Congressmen to get actions done. Tonight he is free and he is going to take us out for dinner for Vegan food.” No. Don’t leave yet, Bridget thought. “That sounds like fun. Do you mind if I check e-mail before we leave. My professor was going to send us the homework assignment. I need to just see it real quick to estimate how long it is.” “Sure,” said Owl. “Our reservations aren’t for another hour anyway. It doesn’t take an hour to drive around Pullman.” “Cool.” She booted up her Mac and checked her e-mail. Just come to the door already, she thought. “So Flower tells me you celebrated Halloween last night,” Owl said. “Yes. I dressed as a sexy truck driver. I wore a trucker hat.” She pointed at her Chevron hat that she had left in a prominent location. “Why did you choose to go as an oil company truck driver?” asked Owl. She decided to startle him a bit. “I found the hat at a thrift store. I chose that hat because the original owner was also a woman. She even wrote her name in it.” She tossed the hat to Owl for him to examine. He looked at it and turned white. “Bridget Addison,” he read in the hat. Bridget smiled and held out her hand for the hat. Her name hadn’t been written in that hat or the original hat. She had just written in the name this morning. “Well should we be going?” asked Flower. A knock sounded at the door. Bridget smiled and rushed to the door to answer it. Ogre stood at the door. He looked a lot more friendly than he did when she met him in the forest. He wore a FedEx uniform and he held a package. “I have a package for Angela Murphy,” he said. “That’s me,” said Bridget. He handed her the package and she signed the clipboard he held. Bridget looked at Owl and Flower for any sign that the ruse had been discovered because Ogre didn’t have a FedEx computer handheld. None of them noticed. Ogre hurried away when Bridget signed it. “Do we have time for me to open it?” asked Bridget. “I can wait until we get back, but I kind of want to know what it is.” “Go ahead,” said Flower. Bridget opened the packaged and pulled out a mink coat. It was pure white and when she held the coat to her face it felt so soft, almost like when she was a child and cuddled with her kittens. She held it up and showed it off to Flower. “I told Derek how cold we were last night and he sent me a coat.” She showed the card that came with the coat to Flower. “I heard how cold you were last night, so I bought you a mink coat. Enjoy it and always think of me,” Flower read. I can’t believe Derek is so cruel as to buy you fur.” “Fur is not good, Angela,” said Owl. “You might think it is wonderful, but think of all the suffering that the mink go through.” Bridget didn’t have to think about that. She had visited a fur farm before and saw how they were killed. However, she still had no sympathy for the angry, hissing minks. “I was so cold last night,” she said. “Derek just bought it because he cares about me.” She took the coat and turned to put it in her walk-in closet. She didn’t close the door all the way. After she hung the coat she called Derek. “They saw it and I think they are mad at me, not mad at the mink farm,” she said when Derek answered the phone. “Just wait,” he said. “They’ll go for it. “I hope you are right,” she said. “Oh, and don’t leave the mink alone with them. I would hate for one of them to spray paint it. It is my grandma’s.” “Oh thank you, Derek,” she said. “A girl likes to dress in her boyfriend’s grandma’s clothes.” “Bye,” he said. “You need to focus on them.” He hung up. Bridget turned and looked out the small opening in the closet door and into the room. Flower and her uncle were still talking. “I think it was tacky for her to wave that coat around in front of us,” said the uncle. “She’s slowly coming around,” said Flower. “I am surprised about the fur coat though. Angela never wears fur. I never expected she would be happy about getting one.” “What’s this Derek guy do anyway that he can afford to buy a fur?” asked Owl. “I don’t know,” said Flower. Owl picked up the package and looked at the return address. “The Cuddly Creatures Fur Farm? It must be new. It’s not in the Blueprint.” “The Blueprint?” asked Flower. “It’s the list of fur farms that was compiled by animal rights activists.” “Cuddly Creatures,” asked Flower. She took the box from Owl. “If there so cuddly, why are they stealing their skins for coats?” She studied the return address. “Hey there logo is especially cruel. Look. They have a cartoon mink in rabbit fur and a cartoon rabbit wearing a mink coat. That is despicable.” I hope Flower doesn’t get baited into this, Bridget thought, or else she is liable to go with the terrorist into the trap. Flower was just naïve, not evil. “Well they seem to be from near here,” said Owl, “Kitzmiller, Washington.” The trap was set and Bridget hurried out. “Don’t we need to go to dinner now? Our reservations will be ready in fifteen minutes.” “Oh yeah,” said Flower. “We need to go.” ### The trip to the restaurant was nerve-racking to say the least. Flower insisted that Bridget should ride shotgun since she was the guest. Sitting in the passenger seat in Owl’s Prius wasn’t as bad as being hijacked by Owl in her tanker truck, but it was almost as scary for her. She was glad for the diaper though. She was constantly leaking from fear, but it wasn’t a lot. However the cumulative effect made it pretty heavy by the time they dropped her off at the dorm. “Go on ahead,” said Owl. “Flower will be up in a little bit. I just need to talk to her about something.” “Sure,” said Bridget. She raced back to the room. She wanted to get back to the dorm anyway. It had been a stressful evening. Once inside, she diapered herself for bed. When she finished, she saw her CB mike. That should have been returned to her car. She also remembered she was one diaper short in the supply she kept in her car. She dressed and then hurried down to replace the diaper. She put the new diaper in the duffle bag in her truck and opened the car door to put away the microphone. She sat in the seat and looked around. Owl and Flower were in the Prius parked nearby. They were arguing. “The time to attack this new fur farm is sooner rather than later. All we need to do is brake in and release the mink. Since the farm is new, that may bankrupt it.” “I don’t want to do any direct action,” said Flower. “Why not?” asked Owl. “Think about all those animals that are going to lose their skins.” “I’d rather not do any direct action until I am sure we aren’t being watched,” said Flower. “Who would be watching you?” Owl asked. “I don’t know,” said Flower. “I just have a bad feeling about it. When we spiked the trees, it did nothing to help our cause.” “Flower, it is time to act. You saw the cartoonish label that they used to sell the skin and fur of animals.” “That does make me angry,” she admitted. Bridget shivered in her car. Not because she hadn’t worn her jacket outside, but because she thought Flower was going to fall into her trap. “If you care about animal rights, you will help me free those mink,” said Owl. “We are going to hit the place at 3:00 AM on Saturday morning.” “Do you really need me?” asked Flower. “The more of us who are there, the higher the likelihood of us being detected.” Flower got out of the car. “I won’t be going.” “Fine,” said Owl. “I’ll free the mink myself. You will be responsible for the deaths of any that I cannot free myself.” Flower stormed away angrily back to the dorms. Owl threw the Prius into reverse and tried to peel out as he pulled out of the parking lot. It would have been more impressive if a Prius could peel out and Bridget was happy about her Crown Victoria and its ability to leave a trail of rubber if she felt like proving a point. Bridget got out of her car and headed back to the dorm. She had a date to stop the terrorist once and for all and she could not wait until Friday night. Besides, she would also be able to spend the night with Derek. “Bang!” Bridget winced against the recoil and pulled the trigger twice more. “Bang! Bang!” She then looked down the range, but couldn’t see how well she had done. She aimed again and shot twice more. “Bang! Bang!” She then aimed the revolver at the target again. “I know what you're thinking. ‘Did she fire six shots or only five?’ Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself. But being as this is a .44 Magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” She pulled the trigger once more, but the revolver only clicked. She looked confused. “Angela,” said Derek, “It’s a .357 Magnum and since it’s a small frame weapon, it only has five shots. Go down and look at your target and see how you did.” He took the revolver from her and spun out the cylinder and showed her the five empty chambers. “I’ll reload while you put a new target up.” Bridget walked down to the end of the field were they set the target. Her shots had been all hit the target, but they were all over the place. She pulled the paper silhouette down and replaced it with a new one and returned to Derek. “Let’s see how you did.” He took her target and frowned. For awhile he didn’t say anything. “Not good enough. You got to get your grouping down to this small.” He held his hands in a circle about six inches in diameter. “When you actually go up against your terrorist, groupings get worse. Even policemen’s groupings expand when they are in an actual shootout.” He handed her the revolver. “Now try again and don’t pretend to be Dirty Harry. Concentrate on what we are doing.” She was concentrating. Derek was being so mean to her. Sure, he was helping her learn to shoot, but he could be nicer about it. She aimed the revolver and pointed it down range. Then she pointed and shot. She did it four more times in slow succession giving herself time to reposition the gun between recoils. “Well, that looked better,” he said. “Now go see what you got and then we’ll try again. She got the target replaced it and then Derek demanded that she do better. “Again,” he said. Each time she emptied the gun and returned with the target, he said, “Again.” By the time Derek was satisfied, she felt like her arm was going to come off. She was finally glad when they went to the farmhouse for bed. ### The farmhouse wasn’t like Derek’s house. The place was rather run down and the pair of them had to sleep on the floor in sleeping bags. Bridget lay down her duffle bag and dug in it for a clean diaper. “Do you need help?” he asked. “I’ve been diapering myself for almost a year,” she said angrily. Derek looked hurt, and she realized what he had been asking. “I will accept help if you want to give it to me.” She lay down fully dressed on the sleeping bag and held the diaper in her hands. “Sure,” said Derek. “He knelt down and helped her undress. When she was naked, she tossed the diaper aside and pulled him on top of her. They kissed for quite awhile and then she felt his hand move from her breast to the area between her legs. It wasn’t long before she heard him fumble around for a condom. ### “She lay in his arms clad in only a diaper, but the diaper and his arms were all she really needed. “You’re a good man Derek.” “And you’re a good woman,” he said, “and I wouldn’t change one thing about you.” “Well after tonight the diapers are going away,” she said. “I’ve been really looking forward to waking up in a dry bed and free of diapers.” “Yeah, I must admit that I could do without the diapers.” He smiled and turned and tickled her. “As cute as they make you look, diapers really aren’t my idea of sexy lingerie.” “I’ll be diaper free as soon as I kill that damned terrorist,” she said. She barely kept the snarl out of her voice. Instead, she got inside Derek’s sleeping bag with him and fell asleep in his arms. ### “Wake up,” said Derek as he squeezed her around the middle. Bridget woke up tired. Derek was spooning her and she felt so comfortable. She hadn’t even dreamed. She felt like she had only put her head down. “What time is it?” she groaned. “It’s twenty after two,” said Derek. “We need to get up.” We reached around her for the zipper of the sleeping bag and pulled it open. Bridget sat up and stretched. She checked her diaper, which was still dry, and smiled. She didn’t even have to pee. She left the diaper on because she would be using it when the terrorist arrived and threw on her blue jeans. “Hurry up,” said Derek. He had already pulled on his t-shirt and jeans and pulled on a down jacket. “I am,” said Bridget. She picked up the revolver, and opened the cylinder. It was loaded with five .357 Magnum rounds. The other four rounds were different colors, but she shrugged. Perhaps she had used too many bullets practicing and Derek had opened another box. She closed the cylinder and put the gun in her pocket. Derek led the way to his pickup and opened the door and pulled out two black squares. He handed one to Bridget and closed the door. “Put this on the other door,” he said. Bridget looked at the square and turned it around. It was a magnetic sign that said, Cuddly Creatures Fur Farm. Bridget’s logo with the cartoon mink and rabbit was nicely done and printed in color. She slapped it on the door of the truck and stepped back to admire it. “Now it looks like a company truck,” she said. “That’s the idea,” he said. “We should probably go to the shed and wait.” The shed was dark and dusty, but Bridget didn’t care. She turned on the light and examined the room. On each side of the long shed were shelves filled with rusty old cages. At the back was a table with a device to shock mink before skinning them. It looked as rusty and worn out as the cages. At the other end was the door. They headed toward the back. “Here is the plan,” said Derek. “When he gets here, I will turn on the light and you shoot him. Fire one shot at a time until you hit him. Don’t shoot him twice or the cops might not think it is self-defense.” “Sure,” said Bridget. She didn’t tell Derek, but she didn’t care what any cops thought. She would shoot him until he was dead. He turned the light out and they crouched down together. “What about the mink sounds we recorded?” she asked. “Won’t he suspect something if he doesn’t hear mink sounds.” “Right,” said Derek. He pulled out his iPhone and tried to turn it on. “Crap.” “What’s wrong?” “The battery is dead.” He ran out of the shed carrying his phone and shortly returned with a cord. “Why didn’t you charge it earlier,” asked Bridget. “There is no electricity in the farm house, remember?” He turned on the light and plugged the phone into a power strip on the table, then plugged in the power strip. A humming sound came from a piece of equipment on the table, but he ignored it and started his iPhone instead. Soon the sound of mink filled the shed. He then turned out the light. ### Waiting took forever. Bridget checked the time on her cell phone ten or fifteen times. It was already 3:37 am and she was so tired. She just wanted to go to bed. The stupid mink noises kept her away, but she didn’t really care about that. She just wanted the terrorist to come on ahead so she could kill him and get some sleep. She caught herself nodding off, but then she heard a loud noise and almost wet her pants. She didn’t, but she had to pee urgently now. The door to the shed opened and a dark silhouette of a man at the doorway. She pulled her revolver and waited. Derek had told her they would wait until he got halfway into the shed before he would turn on the lights as a signal. The man came closer. Her crotch felt numb and really warm. She was wetting the diaper. She couldn’t move until she emptied her bladder. Fortunately she was done before the man reached the halfway point. Derek turned on the light and there was Owl standing fifteen feet away. She leveled the gun on him. “Don’t move a muscle,” she said. “Just shoot him,” said Derek. “I want him to know who I am,” said Bridget. “You’re my niece’s roommate,” he said. “What are you doing here? Is this some kind of set up?” He started forward. “I said, ‘don’t move!’” she said. She cocked the gun for emphasis. “I know who you are. You are a murderer. You killed two hundred forty children when you hijacked a tanker truck and drove it into a school.” “That killer was a woman,” said Owl. “They executed her.” “I was there in the cab with you when you drove that truck into a school. I know your tattoo, I know your voice, and I know your ideology. You destroyed that school because it was build near what you said was a haven for some insect. That is what the press release you issued when you claimed responsibility for it.” “You couldn’t have been more than six at the time,” he said. “I know there were no children in the cab of that truck.” “I’m Bridget Addison,” she said. “I am just younger now. When they put me to death, somehow I jumped into a different younger body, but I still remember what you did. I dreamed about it every night for twelve years, so I remember it like yesterday. I swore to kill you.” She pointed the gun and aimed it at the terrorist chest. She was going to shoot him, but she froze. “Shoot him already, Angela,” said Derek. It was too late really. She saw him coming and couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger. She couldn’t kill a man who killed two hundred forty children so easily. She only had a few seconds anyway before he charged at her. Owl rushed forward and grabbed her wrist. He twisted the gun out of her hand and spun her around so he could stand behind her. She tried to cough, tried to breathe even, but he held his strong arm across her throat and squeezed. She felt her bowels give way and hoped that she could at least get changed before the terrorist killed her. She really didn’t want to be found with dirty diapers. Derek picked up a piece of wood from the floor and advanced. “Let her go!” “Don’t move, or your girlfriend’s brains will be spread across this shed.” Derek dropped the stick and backed off. “Just don’t hurt her.” Bridget still struggled to breathe, but the terrorist loosen his grip. It was still tight against her throat, but she could at least gasp for breath. As she did, she inhaled the scent of her accident. “Really?” asked the terrorist. “It just takes being held at gun point to lose bowel control. You are not the same person who struggled with me to steer that truck out of the way of a building full of kids. Too bad you only steered it into another school. But you really don’t understand, do you? Thirty-five species go extinct every day. Every day! Do you know how many babies are born? People have too many children and are pushing out other animals. A new mall, and new housing development, a new Walmart, even a new school: they all push out native species which will go extinct.” “You are a monster if you value animals over people,” said Bridget. “I shouldn’t have hesitated to kill you.” “But you killed other people. How many people have breathing trouble because you drove around in a tanker truck and delivered oil? Oil is a great evil and you perpetuated it. Even the death of children didn’t make you repentant. You drive around in that big gas guzzler and flaunt your gas wasting ways. I should kill you now.” “I didn’t kill those children; you did,” she said. “Even if my actions only changed the children you killed, you are still responsible for their deaths. I couldn’t even kill a murderer like you, let alone innocent children.” Derek moved forward again. “Let my girlfriend go!” he said. “If you kill her, you will die,” he said. Bridget twisted out of his arms and grabbed his gun hand and hung her weight on it, so the gun pointed toward the dirt floor. “Bang!” The gun went off, but the bullet thudded harmlessly into the floor. Bridget rolled away and scrambled underneath the table. She screamed as the terrorist raised the gun at Derek and pulled the trigger twice. “Bang! Bang!” He then turned the gun toward Bridget and started advancing at her, but Derek rushed the terrorist from behind and pushed him to throw off his aim before falling flat on his face. Bridget pulled her hand over her face as Owl fell toward her. He reached out to the table to steady his grip and then started to twitch. The lights flickered on and off, on and off and there was the horrible smell of burned flesh. All she could hear was Owl’s screaming and an electrical buzzing sound. After what seemed like forever, but was less than a minute, the screaming, then the buzzing stopped. “Angela, are you all right?” asked Derek. She took her hands away from her eyes and saw Derek squatting and looking beneath the table at her. “I’m okay,” she said. She started to move to get out, but Derek shouted, “Wait, don’t move.” She froze. She saw Derek unplug the power strip and unplug his iPhone. He then pushed Owl from the front of the table and reached down to lift Bridget up. “What happened?” she asked. “I thought you got shot.” “Well about that...,” he started. “Your terrorist friend fell into the electrocution device that they use to kill minks. I accidently turned it on when I plugged in the power strip to charge my iPhone. After the gun went off, I had to free you before he hurt you.” “But you could have been killed,” she said. “Well, only the first round was live.” He picked up the gun and opened the cylinder. Two of the four differently colored rounds were still not spent. The others were obviously fired. “I put four blanks in your gun.” She punched him in the arm. “Why?” she asked angrily. “I didn’t want you to go to jail. I thought you would shoot him when he already fell to the ground. That is not self defense and you would go to jail. We are on iffy grounds already.” She looked around. The terrorist lay dead in front of the table. She felt smelly and gross in the poopy diaper she wore. The only thing she was really afraid of was going back to jail. “Well no one got shot,” he said. “I am hiding the gun away and we also have signs to hide.” They ran out to the driveway and pulled Bridget’s sign off the fence. She helped him carry it into the back of the pickup where they put it picture side down. Derek through the magnetic signs in the woods and hid the gun in the glove box. He shut the door and stood back. “Oh crap,” he said. “What?” asked Bridget. He pointed at the flat tires on the truck. “That bastard slashed my tires.” “How will we get out of here?” asked Bridget. “We aren’t,” said Derek. “We are going to call the police.” He took out his phone and called. Bridget wrung her hands as he called. “Police, someone came in and tried to attack me and my girlfriend.” He paused. “No, we are fine, but the assailant somehow electrocuted himself.” He paused again and hung up. “They are on the way,” he said. “Let’s wait in the shed for them. ### It took only fifteen minutes until the police arrived. Bridget shivered, but she stood by Derek as he explained his version of what happened. “Well we are looking into fixing up the farmhouse and moving here when my girlfriend and I move in together,” he explained. “Why were you in the shed?” asked the policeman. “My iPhone died. The house has no electricity yet, so I went out to the shed. When I plugged it in, I plugged in that power strip and plugged the iPhone into that. We were in the shed waiting until it charged when the guy came in. He said he had a gun and I knew he was going to hurt Angela.” “Did he have a gun?” “Well, no,” admitted Derek. He put his hand in his pocket and pushed his finger to make it look like he had a gun in his jacket pocket. “He did this and I didn’t know if he had a gun or not so we just listened to him.” “You did the right thing,” said the policeman. “He then grabbed Angela and held her by the throat while he bragged that he killed a bunch of children in some school and killing her would be nothing. Angela panicked and twisted away and hid under the table, but he chased her. I tried to pull him away, but pushed him at the table instead and he landed with a hand in that machine.” He pointed at the electrocution machine. “As soon as I could get up, I pulled the plug on the power strip. I only touched him to get Angela out.” “Is that what happened, Miss,” asked the police man. “Yes,” she said. He looked down at her waist and wrinkled his nose. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Can we go yet?” she asked. “Not yet,” he said. He walked around her and looked at her bottom. “Are you sure you are all right?” “I’m very uncomfortable,” she said. “I kinda had an accident and want a shower.” “We’ll try to let you get away as soon as we can,” he said. That took another two hours. Another policeman came to question her. “So then Derek pulled him away from the table to let me out,” she said. “Have you seen this man before?” asked the man. She hesitated, but decided the truth was better. “Yes,” she said. “He’s my college roommate’s uncle. He seemed nice Monday when he took me and my roommate to dinner. I didn’t know he would follow me out here and attack me though.” “No one expects someone to attack them,” the policeman said. “I’d be more surprised if he was some stranger than someone you’ve met before. I’ve seen it happen many times.” “Oh, I didn’t realize that,” she said. “He even slashed my boyfriend’s tires.” “Probably to keep you from getting away.” He turned to go back into the shed. “Sit here for now.” He left. ### “So did it work?” asked Ogre. He had come by to pick them up since Derek’s truck tires were flat. Derek had managed to get the gun out of the truck and into Ogre’s car without the police noticing. It had helped that it was not open, but in its case before he called the police. “Yes,” he said. “It worked like a charm. Once less tree spiker and justice for Fred Jones.” “That’s Lia’s dad, right?” asked Bridget. She had to speak up because she was in the backseat with both windows open and only her duffle bag to keep her company. “That is right,” said Ogre. “What I don’t understand is how you knew who he was. Derek said you told him more, but he couldn’t say.” Bridget shrugged. “I really can’t go into it,” she said, “but I was him for another crime when I received evidence that he was involved in the tree spiking. I’m not who I said I was, but don’t worry. I am Angela Murphy now.” “Okay,” said Ogre, “no questions then, except one. I don’t want to embarrass you, but can you smell a bit better next time we meet?” Bridget felt her face burn. “I guess I can keep my pants clean if no one points a gun at my face or tries to nail me to a tree.” It was Ogre’s turn to be embarrassed. “Good point,” he said. He pulled into the driveway at Derek’s house and the two of them got out. “Have a good time,” he said before driving away. Bridget went inside for a much needed shower and then spending time with Derek. She had packed special panties for this night with Derek and she couldn’t wait. The clean shower and night of love making made Bridget so happy. She lay in his arms and relaxed. “I really like you, Angela,” he said. “I like you too,” she said. “I am tired. It’s really been a hectic night last night and I really need some sleep.” “You want me to diaper you again,” he asked. “No,” said Bridget. “I think the nightmares are over. I won’t need diapers again.” She rolled over. Derek put an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. She fell asleep in his arms. ### Bridget woke up to Derek’s nudging. “Wake up. You’re wet.” She rolled onto her back and then rubbed the mattress. She was lying in a puddle. She sat up right away. Derek looked at her and he seemed kind of disappointed. Of course he was. She had promised him a dry and diaper-free girlfriend and she hadn’t been able to deliver. Tears sprang to her eyes and she started to cry. “I wasn’t supposed to wet the bed. I didn’t even have a bad dream. I promise. I’m sorry I disappointed you.” “Don’t cry, Angela.” He scooted over to sit next to her in the puddle so he could put an arm around her. “I’ll always be here for you. I’m only disappointed because you are sad, not because you wet the bed. I love you.” Bridget sniffled. “You love me? You never said that to me before. You have always been so kind to me, ever since we met at prom. I loved you ever since prom when you danced with me when they played that Elvis song, Can't Help Falling In Love.” “That’s when I fell in love with you, too,” he said. “Even if I have to wear diapers to bed every night?” she asked. “Even if you have to wear diapers all the time,” he said. He drew her toward him for a kiss. Bridget kissed him for all she was worth.

I don't remember if I posted this story when I first wrote it almost five years ago, but if so it didn't turn up in my search so it probably disappeared. Here is chapter 1. The Shrink I. Doctor Patricia Neeland slumped back in her chair, her eyes staring unfocused across the expanse of her office. Her last patient, a fifteen-year-old boy who had been sent to her after he started wetting the bed for no apparent physical reason, had stormed out of the office halfway into the fifty-minute session when her questions became too embarrassing for him to handle. On any other day, she would have pursued him and coaxed him back onto the couch. Today, though, she welcomed the longer interval before her noon group therapy session for troubled teens. Today, she needed the time to sort out her own feelings about what had happened the night before. It had been a typical night, ending as it usually did with she and her live-in boyfriend of three years snuggling together in bed. She could sense his discomfort, though, a tension running through the muscles of his body. It wasn’t like him to keep anything from her, and a simple prompt asking if everything was okay opened the gates. Robert was a freelance copy editor who worked out the home they shared, having set up a small office in the corner of their den. That afternoon he was doing battle with a stubborn author who took issue with the changes he had made to her novel to better conform with the publisher’s norms. He couldn’t tell the unfortunate writer that he actually agreed with her arguments without losing his job, so he was stuck defending positions that didn’t represent his own views. He had just hung up the phone and was attempting to calm himself down when the doorbell rang. Normally he would ignore it while working, but he needed the distraction. Striding quickly to the foyer, he flung the door open. It was Joyce, a neighbor from down the street. Robert and Patricia didn’t really count her among their friends, having only chatted briefly at block parties. They knew her more from the rumors that swirled through the neighborhood gossip channels which pegged Joyce as a tramp and man-stealer. To hear the worst of it, she had had affairs with no fewer than three married neighbors that led to two divorces. Probably an exaggeration, but who knew? It was that reputation, deserved or not, that sent nervous tremors through Robert’s body when he saw Joyce standing before him. In Robert’s recounting of what happened next, Joyce invited herself in and before he knew it they were sitting at the kitchen table having coffee. Not far from the truth, Patricia thought, knowing how timid Robert was and how easily he could be manipulated. An aggressive woman would have him eating out of her hands in no time. The purpose, or pretext, of Joyce’s visit was to find the name of a reliable plumber. She had an emergency and needed someone better than the last plumber she called. She didn’t have phone numbers of any of the neighbors so she just started knocking on doors, and wasn’t it her good fortune that Robert had answered? Robert provided the name of a plumber but Joyce had questions about his credentials, which led to stories about toilet disasters, which somehow morphed into Robert bemoaning his latest problems with the recalcitrant author. Whatever plumbing emergency existed couldn’t have been that urgent, as an hour quickly flew by as they talked. Robert never noticed that Joyce’s chair had gradually shifted closer to his, and he jumped in surprise as she put her hand onto his shoulder. Soon it moved to his thigh. She might just be one of those people who talk with their hands, he had explained to Patricia, but he wasn’t sure. At that point his cell phone rang and the irate publisher on the other end of the call demanded his immediate attention, so he swiftly led Joyce to the door. Was she flirting with him, he asked Patricia that night, or was it his imagination? Should he have done something sooner? Robert stammered out the questions without waiting for answers, and Patricia recognized the signs of guilt. Something more was bothering him, so she ventured a guess. Was there a part of him that welcomed Joyce’s attention? Robert blanched, and Patricia had her answer even before he spoke. Yes, he said, he was flattered in a way. But he would never, never act on it. She had to believe him. And Patricia did believe him, but that didn’t make her any less upset. Just because she was a psychologist didn’t make her any more rational than anyone else would be in that situation. She said some things she shouldn’t have and cried and yelled, and in the end sent Robert to sleep in the spare bedroom. She snuck out of the house early in the morning to avoid seeing him until she knew that she would have something cogent to say about the situation. He had already called twice, but she allowed the calls go to voice mail. Let him sweat. She knew she had been too harsh with him; he did open up to her and she had no doubt that he had told the full story. But she also didn’t want to take any chances that Joyce, or someone just like her, would someday take advantage of the man. Patricia was his first real relationship—he was several years younger than herself--- and he was more like a boy than a man in some ways in knowing how to deal with women. He was naïve and childlike in so many ways, in fact, but that was part of his charm. He was also attentive, loving and devoted in a way that no prior man had ever been. He and Patricia seemed to fit together perfectly and she was not about to lose him to some trollop. And she knew that she was a jealous enough type of person that one affair would be enough for her to dump him forever. Not that any affair he had would last long once the woman got him into bed. Patricia smiled at the image. Robert didn’t know it—he was a virgin when Patricia deflowered him—but he was a woeful lover. His penis was small, which wasn’t in itself a bad thing, but he didn’t make up for the lack of size with any special skill. And he was the poster boy for premature ejaculation. In and over in less than two minutes. Most women would be frustrated with their lover’s lack of performance, but for Patricia it was one more reason to keep Robert close. When she was barely a teenager, a boy whom she thought was a friend overpowered her and took advantage of her. It was violent and disturbing and left Patricia scarred emotionally. Her parents refused to believe her, her school counselor covered it up and there was no one to help her work through the serious issues she had as a result of the incident. It was that lack of support that led her to become a child psychologist. Perhaps she could offer help to tortured young souls that she never got. The irony, Patricia knew, was that despite all of her education and supposed wisdom, she could never cure herself of her inner demons. Sex, to her, was unpleasant and unnecessary to her fulfillment as a person. That’s why Robert’s infrequent quickies were a positive thing. She could never satisfy any man with a healthy sex drive and any penetration for longer than a few minutes would be horrific. She needed to keep him close. There was one more reason that she could not imagine life without Robert. Nicole, her seventeen-year-old daughter. Despite the circumstances under which she was conceived, she loved Nicole deeply and devoted her life to her. Robert came along just as Nicky was entering into the difficult teenage years, and having him as a sort of father figure helped keep her daughter on the right path. Mostly, anyway. He was a good influence on her and Patricia shuddered to think what would happen if he left their life. Which brought her full circle back to her dilemma. Kicking Robert out of the house was never an option, and in reality he didn’t do anything wrong. Still, Patricia had to think of a way to prevent any chance of a repeat performance. Since she couldn’t count on the boy to recognize the signs of seduction in time to cut them off, the obvious choice was to make him undesirable to other women. But how? What could she do that would maintain his attractiveness to her while putting him off limits to others? An image of her last patient flashed through her mind, and an idea took root. In an instant, an entire plan formed in Patricia’s mind. It was a bit extreme, more than a little devious, but at first glance would be exactly what the doctor ordered. There was no time to consider details, as she could hear her group of unruly teenagers gathering in the waiting area. But it would work. A sudden peacefulness filled Patricia’s mind as she got up to open the door.

Computer Nerd Simon sat at his computer naked apart from his special thick diaper and clicked on the download button. As he waited his right hand automatically rubbed his cock through the soft padded material as he absentmindedly clicked the mouse over his email and began to read what had come in overnight. Thankfully, the usual load of spam offering pills and potions to make his cock bigger had already been siphoned off to the recycle bin and he was left with only real messages. Simon loved the way his bum, surrounded by the fluffy cushioning, wriggled in the seat. He may be friendless and alone but this, this unbelievable feeling had become his second most favourite thing in the world… after… well… that came once he’d worked himself up enjoying the silky softness and glossy pleasure his diaper gave. This certainly made up for the lack of any human connection in his life. He certainly didn’t need the offered cock enhancing pills… he was doing OK without them. Deleting almost mechanically he soon got through most of the garbage that made up his daily inbox and finally he was down to the last one. He had no idea who it was from but the opening line caught his interest; ‘You are invited to…’ No, not the usual invitation to help some Nigerian general launder several million dollar’s worth of unregulated income, or the offer to collect a share in a lottery that you didn’t even know you’d entered… no… it was an invite to take part in… an online orgy. Simon scratched his head wondering how-the-hell you can have an orgy via the internet. However, he was intrigued and clicked on the reply box. * There was an instant automated answer which read that his interest was noted, the organisers would be in touch and that he should make ‘preparations’ for something ‘quite extraordinary'. Also, a ‘Do not reply to this email’ note ran along the bottom of the screen with a timer counting down. He glanced at it and saw that in 2 days, 14 hours, 22 minutes and 21, 20, 19… seconds, something was going to happen. He didn’t know why but he suddenly realised he’d been rubbing his crotch quite vigorously since he opened the message. Despite the thick cushioning his cock was hard and leaking into the soft fabric. He was feeling pretty hot and stimulated… a shiver ran through his body as he suddenly realised. “Christ,” his body shook, “if this is how the message affects me…” He left the rest of this notion in his head as he sat back in his leather computer chair, eased down his diaper and took a firm hold of his warm slick dick. **tbc**

I decided to do some artwork today, after watching the care bears original film. I just added a nappy to wonderheart bear (she's a newer character but cuter than hugs and tugs imo). Once done, my little side really wanted to colour it (this is a first for me as I'm still newly exploring) anyway, this was the result. I kind of determined my "age" based on this picture as around 4 or so. Anyway, hope you like it. Emily

A Visitor to Triton by Write And Left I looked across the Manhattan skyline and watched streams of aircars travel at the various levels of the city. “It is good to be back on Earth, Doc,” I said, “but I still miss that girl I met back on Triton.” “Lie down on the couch and tell me about her,” said Dr. Emily Gleeson, the shrink that the Navy forced on me. “Why should I?” I asked. “No one takes me seriously when I talk about her.” I stared at the ceiling and paused. “No one takes me serious at all. Why should I bother if you are not going to take me seriously?” “Just humor me,” she said. She flicked her Tablet with a finger, obviously going through her notes. “Tell me about Alison Randall.” Why not? I thought. I would just tell her everything about the girl I left behind on. Maybe she would believe me. “Well it started back when the Orion stopped by for my regularly scheduled relief...” ### The alarm blared in my quarters. The relief ship was arriving. I had been stationed on Triton for two years and my relief would finally take over so I could return to Earth and go to the next place the Navy wanted to send me. I had requested Mars, the second most populated planet in the solar system. Triton Station had a crew of one: just me. Before the advent of Faster Than Light travel, Triton acted as a way station at the edge of the solar system. The newer FTL ships would blink into and out of existence at the orbit of Saturn, thus they never needed to come way out here. Only the slow boats came to Triton, and as soon as they arrived in the solar system, they upgraded their engines to FTL and never returned to Triton. The only slower than light ships around were those that left before FTL’s invention. Still there were quite a few out there and Earth command wanted someone out here to greet them. Since I was stationed out here, the only ship I had seen was the one that brought me out here to the butt end of the solar system. The Orion was the second ship I saw, but it had come from Earth to relieve me. “USS Orion,” I spoke into the Mike, “this is Triton Station. I look forward to your arrival.” I then waited the two minutes for my message to travel the eighteen million kilometers back and forth to the ship. After the wait the speakers sounded, “Sorry about this, Triton Station, but the ship is in plague status. No personnel may be transferred from our ship to the planet. We are at quarantine. A container of supplies will be dropped to you.” My heart sunk. I was stuck here and I would be alone for who knows how long until the Navy saw fit to send another ship out here. “How much longer am I stuck here?” I asked. “We sent a message to Earth and they sent another ship immediately. Your estimated time of arrival is six months.” I clicked off the radio and swore. There would be another six months of not feeling the breeze on my cheeks. There would be no pizza from Manhattan Pie Company and worst of all, no people to talk to. The loneliness that I had put behind me for the past two years suddenly came to the forefront of my mind. ### “So Alison Randall never arrived on the Orion,” asked my shrink. “Of course not,” I said. “She arrived on the bulk carrier, the SS Fortune.” “Go on with your story then,” she said. ### In the weeks that followed, I became more and more despondent. I was still imprisoned on Neptune’s largest moon for five more months and I was bored. I had watched every holovid, read every text drama on my Tablet, and even went so far as to write my own stories. One night, at exactly midnight, I heard an unexpected alarm. A ship was arriving, but this ship was transmitting a distress signal. Triton Station had one shuttle stationed there and I ran to the shuttle. The message attached to the distress signal said that the ship was rapidly losing air and that they needed help. I wasted no time. The ship was dark; the only light came from the day side of Neptune, but I piloted the shuttle closer and closer. The ship was completely dark. There were no running lights and no indication of anything approaching life, but I continued onward. As I drove the shuttle around the ship, I saw a horrible tear in the hull that went across all five decks of the ship. There would be no survivors unless they were suited or they were trapped in an airtight compartment somewhere. It was a bulk carrier. It is a common enough ship even today. It contained five decks and a spine to which cargo containers were attached. The only difference between it and a modern FTL ship was the massive fusion tanks on the tail end of the ship. Modern ships replaced most of the tank space with an FTL engine. I drove the shuttle around until I found a hatch where I could enter the ship. The only good hatch was on the spine. I set my coffee on the copilot’s seat and went inside to look for survivors. I floated through the spine of the ship and watched for any signs of life. There was air there, but as I walked forward of the spine the hatches all had red pressurization faults. All five decks were airless. Since I couldn’t get to the main hull of the ship, I walked aft. That is when I saw her. “I’m from Triton Station. I am here to rescue you.” She was young, probably in her early twenties, but dirty and disheveled. And she stank like a bad environmental plant and lack of showering. “Everyone else is dead,” she said. I took her by the hand and put her in the co-pilot seat in the shuttle. “I’ll take you back to Triton Station,” I said. “You’ll be safe there.” She was too shocked to say anything else, so I just let her be silent. She had just lost the rest of the crew of her ship. ### Dr Emily was tapping her Tablet and looking up stuff while I talked. I knew she was not just taking notes. “What are you looking up?” “Just reviewing your log for the incident,” she said. “Oh?” “But...,” Dr Emily started to say. She must have thought better of it. “Just finish your story.” ### Alison sat in silence on the way back to the moon’s surface. I thought I saw a tear in her eye, which was only natural since there were no other survivors on her ship. However, the tears were there for another reason. I pulled the shuttle into the dock and went toward the airlock and motioned her to follow me, but she wouldn’t move. “Come on in,” I said. “There is food, clean clothes, and showers.” She gave a sheepish look and then stood up to reveal a circular wet spot on the co-pilot’s chair. Her face turned red as she looked down at her seat. “Um,” she said, “I have trouble getting to the bathroom.” I sighed and we left the shuttle. Once in the passageway, I stooped down and caught a cleaning robot that was rolling along the corridor and took it back into the shuttle with me. I dropped it on the co-pilot’s chair and returned to the passageway. The girl stood there waiting. “I will take you up on that offer of a shower and clean clothes.” “Of course,” I said. I took her to my quarters where the only working shower in the small station was located and motioned her inside. I went back to my bedroom and opened my drawer to look for something for her to wear. I was a bit larger than her, so I just picked a t-shirt, and some shorts for her. The shorts would obviously be big on her, but she cinch the belt tightly around her waist. I slipped into the head and set the clothes on the sink. After that I slipped out. She finished soon after I left. I had never met a woman on Earth who took such short showers, but she was from a space ship and water is scarce, especially on a slow boat traveling between the empty gulf between the stars. When she came out of the head, the T-shirt and shorts looked quite large on her, but she smiled at me. “Thanks,” she said. “Are you ready for dinner?” I asked. She rubbed her stomach. “Are you kidding? I haven’t eaten for three days. I was trapped in the spine of my ship and couldn’t visit the galley or the rest of the ship.” “Well let’s take care of that.” I lead her to the galley and started taking packages out of the boxes of supplies that lined one wall and covered the galley tables. I had emptied the container that was dropped and brought everything inside and just put it along the wall. I pulled out some pre-made chicken cordon bleu and made that. In all I made four servings, figuring that we would probably each eat two. I was hungry too. She took a bite and then began to hungrily shovel in the food. “This is so good,” she said. She paused to take a drink of Kool-aid and then shoveled more into her mouth.” “These are space rations,” I said. “They are not really considered the best of cuisines.” “These are new rations then,” she said, “Our food has to last years and I bet you these would taste bad too if they were in storage for decades, even with the effects of relativity.” “Yes, I guess so,” I agreed. “I don’t think I could stand to be on a ship that long between ports.” “It’s tough,” she said. “I am on my first push out from Epsilon Eridani. We were to go right back after stopping at Earth, but forty years will have passed when it’s only been four years four me. My parents will be in their nineties. The trip after that, I would have been visiting my sister’s great grandchildren. I wanted to be a spacer though and signed on with the first ship that would take me.” “Wow, you must have just left before...,” I started to say. She put down her fork. “Before what?” she asked. “I don’t know if I should tell you, but I will. About twenty years ago ships started getting faster. You could have been home already.” “How fast?” she asked. She picked up her fork again and took another bite. She had a look of relief on her face. “I thought something horrible had happened.” “Faster than light,” I said. “A journey only takes the amount of time needed to go far enough away from the sun and then it is instantaneous.” “How far away?” she asked. “I could get home next year?” “Depending on the spectral type of the sun, it varies. In the solar system it is about ten astronomical units.” I heard a pattering sound coming from beneath her chair as she stared at me open mouthed. I looked down and saw a growing puddle. When she noticed what she did, she looked down and turned bright red. She looked at me. “I’m so embarrassed. What you said took me by surprise.” She stood up and looked down at herself. “I get like this when I am taken by surprise. Perhaps I should be wearing diapers.” I was inclined to agree with her. “What happened on your ship when this happened?” I asked. “It’s just been happening the last couple of weeks. They put me in EVA diapers. I heard they were going to beach me on Earth because of it.” She shuddered. “Well you are pretty much stuck here on Triton until a relief ship comes. We are about twenty astronomical units out from where any ship goes anymore. The only reason we keep Triton open is to support stragglers.” “Stragglers?” she asked. “People like you. Slower than light ships that left before they came home to find out that the universe changed and transportation is faster. Anyway, I have some EVA diapers. You probably should wear them until we find out how often you wet yourself.” She sighed. “Well okay,” she said. “I will.” She got up and I led her to the airlock. There were spacesuits there. Some were for walking across the planet, but others were for fixing ships in space. The station used to be a lot bigger and at one time it was a full support base. Now it was just an outbuilding with a section converted to quarters. The full supply of spacesuits and accessories were there. I opened a cupboard and found a pack of EVA diapers and gave it to her. “Well here you go,” I said. “We can travel quickly throughout the stars, but we can’t figure out a better way to pee while wearing a spacesuit.” “Well that works for me,” she said with a smile. She hurried into my quarters to change. When she emerged she wore only the diaper and the t-shirt. “I can find you another pair of shorts,” I said. “They made me dress like this when I was on the ship,” she said. “I’m used to not wearing pants with diapers.” “Suit yourself,” I said, “but you can still have shorts if you want.” “That’s okay,” she said. “It’s quite warm in here. So what do you guys do for fun around here?” I showed her my Tablet. “You can either read books or watch movies.” I showed her how to access both. ### “So you say you dressed her in EVA diapers and a shirt and she didn’t mind?” asked Dr. Emily. “No she didn’t mind,” I said. “She will testify to that fact, that is, if anyone can find her. No one will tell me what happened to her.” “How about you finish the story.” ### That night (if you can call it night, because the southern hemisphere of Neptune is constantly in daylight) I set her up on one of the couches in the staff lounge. Before going to my quarters to sleep, I showed her where the head was in case she needed to use the restroom in the middle of the night. I made sure she had plenty of blankets and was comfortable before I returned to my quarters to sleep. I woke up later with a soft, warm body pressed up against mine. It was Alison. She was fast asleep, but I woke her up anyway. “What happened?” she asked. She stretched and turned to look at me. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. “You must have sleep walked or something. You crawled into bed with me.” “Oh, yeah.” She yawned and stretched again. “I couldn’t sleep all alone. The ceiling creaks and the couch is uncomfortable. Besides you are cute. I want to sleep with you.” “What? No,” I said. “Go back to the lounge and sleep on the couch.” “Please,” she said, “just for tonight.” “You’re too young. I’m almost thirty and you...” I paused because I didn’t know how old she was. “...are too young.” “What’s the date?” she asked. I told her. “Well I am almost forty-one,” she said, “and that makes me a cougar, but plenty old enough.” “A cougar?” I asked. “What’s that?” “Nevermind,” she said, “I am plenty old to share your bed. I only look twenty-two because that is my subjective age. My objective age is forty-one. Besides, we are just sleeping.” “Fine,” I said, “but tomorrow night you are going back on the couch.” “Okay,” she said. I turned and went back to sleep. She never did go back to the couch in the five months we waited for the relief ship. ### I woke up late the next day. Alison was gone. I figured she was in the bathroom, but I didn’t hear water running. I got up and went inside and looked around. She wasn’t there. I wondered where she could have gone. I was about going to do a tour of the station, but then I heard a thumping sound coming from the galley. I raced to that compartment to see if she was okay. She was standing on counter wearing just her EVA diaper and t-shirt. She held a bunch of food containers and was stacking them in the cupboards. “What are you doing?” I asked. She pointed to the row of cartons stacked along one of the walls of the galley and stacked on the tables. “I am stowing the supplies,” she said. “I am also rotating the stock here. We might have to stretch the food a bit since we have two people here and your planners only planned to supply the base for one.” “There is plenty here,” I said. “I agree,” she said, “but I didn’t find that out until I started to inventory the food. Although if worse comes to worse and we are out here longer without resupply, we can take the shuttle back up to the Fortune and raid the galley there. You got proper suits and stuff and according to the chart, the Fortune is in a stable orbit of Neptune.” I looked around. She made a lot of progress on unpacking the food supplies. “You’ve thought quite a bit about this,” I said. She reached for my hand, which I took, and then jumped from the counter. “Of course,” she said. “I also should try to earn my keep.” I was please her restocking effort, but I also felt a little guilty for not doing it myself. It was not like there was anything else for me to do and I was required to restock instead of letting the supplies sit in the hallway. The only thing I had done besides parking the dry goods on the tables and against the wall was pulling the pallet of frozen goods into the freezer. ### That evening we ate a feast. The proper ingredients were easier to find and Alison gave the meal a woman’s touch. We even had a salad before the meal and she had crawled through the frozen foods to find some ice cream for dessert. She stuck her fork in the lettuce and held it up. “This is pretty good,” she said. “Where do you get green lettuce?” “Um,” I said, “all lettuce is green. That is how it grows on Earth, except there it is greener and not freeze-dried.” “Lettuce is black on Epsilon Eridani III. Most plants are black there. You can only see the amazing color patterns if you wear infrared glasses. Most animals and insects see in infrared on Eridani III, so no plants are really colorful to humans.” “Sounds depressing,” I said. “Well, I grew up that way. How much difference can colorful plants make?” she asked. “Women like to get colorful flowers,” I said. “In fact my wife used to love it when I brought her flowers, especially when there wasn’t a holiday. I brought them to her because I loved her.” A wave of disappointment washed across Alison’s face. “You’re married?” “She died in an aircar accident,” I whispered. It was all I could do not to cry. “We argued the last time she and I spoke, and now she is gone.” “I’m so sorry,” said Alison. She paused for a moment, but apparently thought it was okay to say what she was going to say. “I know how you feel. I argued with my parents before I left on the Fortune. With time dilation, I thought I wouldn’t see them again. I don’t know what happened to them or anyone else I left behind. I felt guilty about it for the whole trip to Earth. That’s probably the reason I started wetting.” “But now you can go back home in about six months and see them within the year,” I said. “That’s true, but Mom and Dad are almost seventy. I hope they are still around when I visit again.” We finished the meal and by the time we started on dessert, the conversations had moved to lighter subjects. “They usually just spray paint the leaves of existing trees and flowers when they do movie scenes that are set on Earth,” she said. “Of course now with FTL, they can now bring real Earth plant seeds to use in sets.” “They’ll probably need to use special lights if they want them to grow,” I said. Suddenly an awful smell filled the air. I wrinkled my nose and then looked around for the source of the smell. “Oops,” said Alison. Her face turned red and she smiled slyly. “You didn’t?” I said astonished. She took one last bite of her dessert and then stood up. “I’ll go shower,” she said. She turned and waddled away with an obvious bulge in the back of her EVA diaper. ### The next day I caught her in a wet diaper. “Alison,” I asked, “are you trying to get to the bathroom on time?” “I am wearing a diaper,” she said. “I don’t really need to worry about getting up to use the restroom. Besides you don’t tease me like the other crewmembers of the Fortune.” I sighed. “You know you can become dependent on diapers if you don’t try to avoid accidents. You don’t really want to deal with diapers when you get to the beach on Earth and want to wear a bikini.” She nodded. “You are being nice about this. I still might have accidents, but I promise I’ll try to make it to the bathroom.” “Good,” I said. “That is all I ask.” After that she made more of an effort to get to the bathroom. She still used her diapers at night when she was in bed, but I didn’t notice her sitting in a wet diaper as often during the day. ### When we had been together for almost five months, the incoming ship alarm went off. I raced to the control room and Alison followed behind. “What’s that sound?” she asked. “Our ticket to Earth,” I said. “We can tow your ship back to Earth so you can sell your cargo and then arrange passage back to Eridani. You might even make enough on your cargo to buy an FTL drive for your ship, make repairs, and head back home to see your parents.” “I’ll believe that when I see it,” she said. I picked up the mike. “Gemini, this is Triton Station. Please state your ETA and intentions.” I waited for the time for the round trip communication. “This is Gemini. ETA is six days and our intentions are resupply and relief for station personnel,” the voice from the speaker said. “There is a straggler ship in orbit around Neptune,” I said. “Will a trip to tow it back to the inner system be possible,” I asked. “The ship’s hull was breached and most of the crew were killed, but one surviving crewperson was evacuated to the station. Will passage for her be possible?” I waited for the communication lag again. “Yes,” said the transmission from Gemini, “we’ll clear some room for an additional passenger.” “Here that?” I said as I turned to Alison. “I told you they would...” My voice trailed off. Alison was gone. ### “None of the crew of Gemini could find any trace she was on the station at all,” said Dr Emily Gleeson. “Why do you think that is?” “I don’t know. She had to be on the station somewhere. No space suits were missing and the shuttle was the same way I left it when we arrived from the Fortune,” I said. “Where was there to hide on the station?” she asked. “Never mind. Please finish your story.” ### In the final week when I was awaiting the arrival of the relief ship Gemini, I search the station from top to bottom looking for her. She was nowhere to be found. I searched the galley, the lounge, my quarters, the restrooms, and even the sanitary tank reservoirs. The latter was the most disgusting place to look, but I didn’t care. I had to find her. I then checked the shuttle. It was in its slip and it was empty. The cleaning bot I had put on the chair had even cleaned Alison’s pee stain. It was still trapped in the immaculately cleaned shuttle and fled through the door as soon as I had opened it. Obviously no one used the shuttles. I also checked out the suit lockers. All the suits were accounted for. I suddenly had a horrible thought. I quickly readied a suit and put it on. I then exited the station through the only airlock in that building. What if she had left without a suit? I walked all around the station, even though I knew she couldn’t make it ten feet without a space suit. Triton’s outdoor temperature was almost 400 below zero on the Fahrenheit scale. I finally went back inside. The crew of the Gemini found no sign of her either. Finally, I had to get on the ship and go home alone. Instead of going to Mars I was sent straight to Earth. ### “So what is the official story about where she went?” I asked. “She never existed,” said Dr Emily. “You made her up.” “But she was there. I saw her. If she didn’t exist, then who put away the supplies? Who did the deep cleaning of the station? Who did I talk to for almost five months?” It was a ridiculous idea the Alison Randall did not exist. “I suppose you are going to say that the SS Fortune doesn’t exist.” “No,” said Dr. Emily, “I’m not. I am going to say that Alison Randall never came down from the Fortune once you saw her.” She pushed a button and a wall panel moved aside revealing a view screen. “Watch the view screen.” A camera moved around the inside of the SS Fortune. The floating camera came to a door that said, “Spine.” An arm reached up and opened the door to reveal another airless compartment beyond. Inside a body floated. The figure was frozen in the moment that air had escaped the compartment. She was trying to pull on a space suit but hadn’t got it pulled up higher than her legs. She only wore a t-shirt and an EVA diaper. “They all died two months before they reached Neptunes orbit. That’s Alison Randall floating there. She was dead all along. Your brain pulled her image off out and used her so you wouldn’t have to think about your loneliness.” “It can’t be,” I said. “Who wet the co-pilot’s seat in the shuttle? Surely the video log in the shuttle caught that.” “It did,” said Dr. Emily. “It showed you knocking your coffee over onto the co-pilot’s chair.” She pulled up another screen and I saw the coffee cup fall over and create a circular wet spot on the chair. “No,” I said. “It’s not her.” I pointed to the other view screen. “That is some other girl. Alison came back to the station with me.” “Look,” said Dr. Emily. The body rotated until I could see her from the front. The nametag area of her shirt said Alison Randell. She looked the same as Alison, but her skin was a bluish shade. She almost looked like the way my wife when they dragged her body from the crashed aircar. I felt empty then and I felt just as empty now.

Once in the bathroom Gwen turns on the shower before placing Bri under it and stripping off both of their clothes. Taking the shampoo, she begins to scrub Bri’s hair, which has somehow managed to get pee in it, while Renny does the same for Callie. Both girls are blissing out as their hair is rinsed and their moms gently scrub them from head to feet. “Bri would you like me to do some landscaping?” “You don’t have to Gwen, but I’d like that.” Working with a pair of scissors and a razor Gwen turns Bri’s wild blue bush into a neat triangle pointing to her sex. “Looks good!” Both Renny and Callie are giving her a thumbs up. Bri Stands under the water trying to clear her head from the returning fog as Callie scrubs Renny and Renny scrubs Gwen. While they’re drying off “You still seem not a hundred percent baby, how are you feeling?” Bri’s stomach is starting to do weird unpleasant things. “I don’t I know. I’ve never had a hangover like this before.” “Oh Fuc...” Bri claps a hand over her mouth and sprints for the toilet area. She just makes it, collapsing on all fours above the brass trough. With a heaving wrenching gasp, last nights munchies come up in a massive load of sick. Gwen comes over and holds the naked shuddering girl from behind stroking her hair and stomach, as she attempts to heave her insides into the toilet. “That’s it Bri get all that nasty junk out, your doing good baby.” Bri’s eyes begin to water and she let’s out several shuddering distressed gasps. “Shhhh. It’s okay baby it’ll be over soon. That was a magically active liquor that you downed last night. Most people start with one shot every four hours until they know how a new one will affect them. It also helps the body acclimate to avoid side effects like this. Renny can you assence her?” “Sure I’m not a medic but I have had basic first aid.” Going over to Bri she place a hand on her and opens her third eye. “Her energy nodes are completely scramble but doesn’t look like anything other than energetic food poisoning. Although if she’s not over it by tomorrow we should take her in to an urgent care clinic.” After several minutes Bri’s stomach is empty and Gwen gives her a glass of water to rinse out her mouth. “Let’s get you dressed and onto the couch so can rest and watch some TV.” Renny snaps her fingers and an oversized jersey style t-shirt with the words Capital University Gryphons and the number 42 on it flies into the room and pulls itself onto Bri. “That’s my old Jersey from when I played Thrund Ball at university. It’s kinda of a weird mix of rugby, lacrosse, and a Japanese game show, they’re playing a special match today, so we can watch, and I’ll show you what it’s all about.” “Okay that sounds fun.” Gwen tucks Bri under a bunch of blankets before leaving and coming back pushing a cart. “Here’s a thing of electrolyte water, I don’t want you getting dehydrated. And be sure to take these.” She say’s handing Bri to pills. “Ones a generic NSAID and the others anti-nausea.” Bri takes a swig of water with the pills. “I also got you something to fill you up without irritating your stomach; vanilla, chocolate or strawberry?” “Uh chocolate?” Gwen hands a bottle labeled “UltraMilk Nutrion Shake: Chocolate Banana Flavor.” Bri has an “are you kidding me look” on her face but cracks it open and takes a sip to be polite.” “Dam! This actually really good, way better than these things are back on earth!” Gwen smiles. “It was originally created by Amada pharmaceuticals and marketed to people who couldn’t eat solids or had food allergies/sensitivities. It became so popular with the fitness and on the go crowds that they started marketing it more broadly. Which helped those previously mentioned folks out by making it more widely available and reducing the associated stigma. The reason this version tastes so good is the real chocolate and pureed banana that’s blended with a synthetic dairy protein that tastes and feels just like milk but without the down sides. It has 750 calories, a third of your daily vitamins/minerals, and a special blend of engineered bacteria and fiber to help you feel full and keep you regular.” “That’s actually really cool, but did not need to know that last part!” “Sweetie I’m your mom now and it’s my job to look after you. And that includes your bowels.” Bri groans in embarrassment as Renny clambers onto couch. “Okay nerds let’s watch some Thrund Ball!” Bri spends the rest of the day watching the game with her family as she recovers on the couch. Renny naturally slipping into the role of commentator. Despite the rough start this day is definitely going into the happy memories bin.

Chapter Four "Wow, you look like you had a good day," Fiona smiled to Aimee as the Little climbed into the back seat of the car and buckled up."I really did," she beamed, holding up her gold envelope, "Look! I'm Employee of the Month!" Aimee was positively glowing with pride at her accomplishment."That's great, Aims! I was worried you didn't like this job," Fiona pulled out of the parking lot and started their journey home, her own problems pushed to the back of her mind for the moment, "Tell me about it.""Apparently, I do a really good job as a greeter, the manager got some compliments about me. I had no idea anyone was even paying attention to me at all. It feels surprisingly good." Aimee unconsciously kicked her feet in the air, safely strapped into her booster seat. She was back in her everyday clothes, a cute t-shirt with a happy tree yelling "Leaf Yourself" and a pair of jeans, unfortunately adult panties underneath. The normal underwear felt so thin as to be nonexistent after the whole day in a diaper."That's great, I'm really glad to hear it. It's important to feel needed at your job," Fiona talked to Aimee via the Little Mirror, a console mounted mirror that she could use so she didn't have to adjust the rear-view mirror. "Hey, I know Tuesday is your night to cook again, but what do you say about grabbing burgers instead tonight?""Sounds great," Aimee said cheerfully, but her suspicions were immediately raised. Fiona hated eating out during the week almost as much as Aimee loved it. Something was up. "How about Big Burger?" Fiona's least favorite and Aimee's second-favorite. They had the best fries, those tiny skinny fries that were all crispy. Fiona liked her fries warm and floppy, in vinegar. Aimee likes hers crispy with lots of salt and ketchup, sometimes she even salted the ketchup."Perfect," Fiona agreed immediately. Now Aimee was extremely suspicious, under normal circumstances her roommate would have tried to steer her to another place, or to compromise."How was your day?" Aimee asked casually, her legs no longer kicking now that her suspicions were raised. She glanced out the window nonchalantly."Complicated," Fiona conceded, "I'm hungry, let's talk about it over dinner."* * *Fiona helped her Little roommate up into her seat, she was feeling much more comfortable now in a nerdy t-shirt and gym shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a normal ponytail, she still needed to wash the product out of it, but this was a much more comfortable style than the fancy curls she had been sporting earlier. She sat down at the table opposite her friend and started unwrapping her monstrously large burger, bacon poking out from every which way."So," Aimee said after taking a bite, "Why was it complicated? Was it good or was it bad?""It was both," Fiona slid the Little-sized ketchup bottle across the table, she never used the stuff, the burger came with plenty already, "I met with a very powerful man who could either make my life very hard or very easy depending on if he likes me personally, which is frustrating when I'd like the product to stand on its own.. but that's the way business is done at the top sometimes. I miss the days already when a job well done was dependent upon your performance at your primary task, rather than all of this social pressure. I'm really proud of you for getting an award, by the way.""And," Aimee continued, stuffing a handful of fries into her mouth, dripping a bit of ketchup onto her shirt in the process. She grabbed a napkin quickly and dabbed at it, "Did you make a good impression?""I think so, I'm not entirely proud of myself, but I think I left on a positive note. He wants to meet again in two days, and then we get down to brass tacks.""That sounds pretty good to me, what did he hit on you or something?" Aimee looked at her friend, confused. It didn't sound complicated to her so far."Not quite," Fiona took another bite, "We met at Osmium.""That fancy-pants place? The one where the parking lot is worth more than the neighborhood we grew up in? Wow, that sounds awesome. What's it like inside?" Aimee and Fiona had grown up in the same middle-class area. They met in high school and had been friends ever since. Neither one of them had a particularly fancy upbringing, but Fiona had gone through some upward mobility and was used to seeing things that Aimee really wasn't. She didn't really have a desire for fancy things, she had already learned that nice things don't bring happiness. She'd met quite a few rich-but-miserable people during her climb. Fiona liked thing simple and stress-free, she got enough stress during the day."It's pretty incredible, actually. The food is fantastic, too.""You got to eat there? So, how does the other half eat?""Well - I kept it simple, but I could have easily gone wild," she took a moment to describe the Osmium interior, leaving out the daycare area for the moment, focusing on how large the club was and how much staff they had working, "Mr. Whitmore ate a steak half your size.""That's the guy? It sounds like you had a pretty darn good day to me, where does it get complicated?" Aimee was actually a little jealous, it sounded much better than her day and she had had a pretty good day."I need a membership to meet him again on Thursday - I skated by today, but I don't think I can pull that off again.""Oh," Aimee frowned, "Will they not let you in? I don't even know what you have to do to get into a fancypants place like that." Fiona's new position in life still wasn't a real thing to Aimee, they didn't change their lifestyle at all. They had been rooming together since Fiona was going to college and they'd always had this same lifestyle. Home-cooked meals courtesy of Aimee, video games and electronic entertainment courtesy of Fiona, and just hanging out. Fiona hadn't even bought a new car, the only thing she really upgraded was her wardrobe, and only because it was a necessity."Well, you have to have a sponsor who's already a member in good standing at the club to vouch for you, and you have to pay membership dues and join on a probationary period... ""That sucks, where are you going to find a sponsor? I don't suppose the guy you're talking to will help?""That's actually the easy part, Aims. My boss is a member and he's sponsoring me.. ""What's the problem then?" Aimee really didn't understand any of this, it all sounded so simple to her. Fiona already had everything she needed, she had the money, she had the sponsor, she wasn't going to do anything wrong on a probationary period - she wasn't exactly a hellraiser."They won't let me join unless I register a Little with their care facility, they expect all members to have adopted Littles. Will you... will you pretend to be my Little on Thursday?"Aimee was torn clean in half. On the one hand, this was her every dream come true, her fantasies being laid at her feet, begging to be picked up. On the other hand, Fiona obviously really didn't want this, as evidenced by all of the bribery. Honestly, being buttered up this way made Aimee feel worse about the whole situation. She would have been ecstatic at the request if it hadn't had such a dramatic lead-up. Now she felt terribly conflicted, to have her dream dangled before her eyes only to have it poisoned."What do you need me to do?" Aimee asked, a little sad."I just need you to pretend to be my newly-adopted Little for one day. I need you to take the day off work on Thursday and come with me to the club. I'll check you into the daycare there, we'll register you as my adopted Little for the purposes of my membership application. I'll figure out a better long-term solution later if I need to keep meeting there.""So you're just going to dress me up and drop me off in a daycare and then pick me up and take me to work afterward?" Aimee was really hurt, this was her ultimate fantasy and Fiona was grinding it into the dirt, just some silly thing she needed to do to get a business deal."What? I'd bring you to my office or back home for the day afterward, you would have already called in sick to work. This is what you're always asking for. You'll get babied for the whole day!""You don't get it, Fi," Aimee said, her voice choked with hurt, "You just don't get it.""What don't I get? You want to wear diapers and drink from a bottle and play with toys, that's what we'll do. You'll get dressed up, we'll pretend you're my Little and we'll check you into the daycare. You'll get to play for my meeting and then we'll go to the office and you can hang out and watch TV or something until the workday is done, or I can bring you back here and you can play video games, it sounds like a pretty great day to me.""You weren't even going to diaper me yourself, were you? You were going to have me do it.""Of course, you're perfectly capa... ""Goddammit Fiona, you don't even listen to me when I talk, do you!" Aimee practically jumped down out of her Little-aid chair and stormed off to her room, slamming the door."Aimee.. don't... " Fiona sighed. Littles were so emotional and unpredictable. This meal hadn't gone anything like Fiona had expected, she was trying to give Aimee exactly what she always asked for. A day off, a day with nothing but diapers and playtime. A chance to get a taste of how an adopted Little would live. Fiona sighed again, holding her head in her hands. She wasn't sure how everything had gone so wrong... but she was starting to get an idea on how to handle it.She stood up and stomped to Aimee's room, making sure her footfalls sounded loud and angry. She could hear the sound of Aimee sobbing inside. She steeled her heart and prepared for her next move. She needed that meeting on Thursday and she wasn't going to actually adopt a Little to get it. She flung Aimee's door wide. The Little was huddled on her bed, sobbing into a pillow. Fiona stomped over to her and rolled her over on her back, snatching the pillow away from her."Leave me.. ""Quiet!" Fiona yelled at her friend, she felt awful inside but she really felt like this was the best way to handle this situation strategically. "You are a Little and you're going to do what I say, I'm the Amazon." Fiona reached over to Aimee's desk and grabbed the pacifier she had picked up off the floor the night before and stuffed it into Aimee's mouth, who was sitting there stunned. "Now suck on that. Now, Aimee." Aimee's heart was racing as she sucked on the pacifier. Fiona walked over to her closet and slid the door open.. she was going into the corner, under the boxes... No, she's not supposed to know about that! Aimee's mind screamed but her body was completely frozen. Fiona came back to the bed with a thick princess diaper, the kind that spoiled adopted Littles got kept in. Aimee had just a few, she didn't know that Fiona even knew about them. Fiona didn't stop there, in a single motion, she had Aimee's shirt off and in another, her pants and underwear were removed. The sound of the crinkling was electric as Fiona unfolded the diaper."Fi-" Aimee started to protest around the pacifier, but the Amazon just put a finger to the pacifier shield and glared at her before pushing the Little onto her back and lifting her legs with one giant hand. Aimee's feelings were completely out of control, this was straight from her fantasies. She was in a shocked daze, and yet aware of every sound, every smell, every sensation as she felt her bottom lowered onto the soft diaper. So much fluffier than the medical grade ones she wore at work, so much more comfortable. "No," she moaned lightly, but she didn't struggle, didn't fight at all. This was everything she wanted.Fiona pulled the thick padding up between her legs and taped the sides securely, grabbing her friend under the arms and pulling her to a sitting position. Aimee could see herself in the mirror behind Fiona, her giant friend towering over her, her small form sitting naked on the bed except for the puffy, pink diaper. She quivered under Fiona's gaze, too shocked and too giddy to say anything at all."Now listen here, baby," Fiona put her hands on her hips and stared down. "Look at me in the eyes when I'm talking to you," she grabbed Aimee by the chin and tilted her gaze. Fiona's eyes were full of fire as she looked down at Aimee, the Little was well and truly intimidated. "You are going to the club with me on Thursday, you are going to be a baby that whole day, and you're going to thank me for it. When you wake up on Thursday, I will dress you and I will take you with me and you will be a good girl at the club. I will decide what to do with you after that. Do you understand?"Aimee nodded, her bones made entirely of jelly."Good. You need to figure out how you're going to handle work for Thursday. It's your call whether you talk to your boss beforehand or we call you in sick on Thursday morning. It makes no difference to me. One way or another, your diapered butt is mine on Thursday."And with that, she stormed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her, leaving Aimee to stare at a tear-stained, diapered Little in the mirror... and the biggest grin of her life spread across her face. Chapter FiveFiona's alarm was going off next to her ear, but she was already awake. She had spent the last hour hating herself for what she had done to her friend. Now it was a new day and she had to face Aimee.. no, worse, she had to continue the façade. In all their years together, Fiona had never manipulated Aimee this way. She knew what her friend wanted, she'd wanted it for years. Aimee had an unhealthy crush on Fiona and she knew it, but in general it didn't interfere with their friendship, so Fiona just let it go. Now she had crossed a line she could never come back from.. or at least, that's what she feared. But she was already down this path, there wasn't much choice except to see it through to completion.A tiny knock came from Fiona's door. She steeled herself and stood, taking two steps and opening her bedroom door, looking down at the tiny person sucking on a pacifier standing there in nothing but a pink princess diaper. Aimee looked completely helpless, which made Fiona feel all the worse, but she had her part to play for now."You still need to go to work today," Fiona picked up her friend by the armpits and carried her into the kitchen, sitting her down on the counter. "I'm going to let you be a big girl today, and you get to decide whether you're going to wear that pink princess diaper to work or wear big girl panties." Her stomach turned as she squeezed the crotch of the diaper she had taped her friend into. It was wet. "You're wet already, but this diaper is for princesses who never get to go to the potty. Do you want to see if any of your pants fit over this thick diaper, or do you want me to let you out of it so you can clean up and go to your big girl job today?"Aimee's heart was still beating a mile a minute, she was living out her most precious fantasies and she never wanted it to end.. but she also couldn't let Kurt see her in this princess diaper."Big girl panties, please," she said sadly around the pacifier. She couldn't wear the princess diaper to work, she wouldn't be able to untape it herself. When she wore them alone, she taped it in a way that she could slide out of it.. Fiona had taped her in snugly, like an Amazon would - she wasn't going to be able to wriggle out of it. And she wasn't about to ask her boss to help her change her diaper, Helen would never look at her the same way again. In the perfect world of her fantasies, Fiona would bundle her up without asking and take her to her office, leaving her in a playpen or a bouncer - depending on the fantasy that day - while she did her job... then they'd eat together and cuddle before Fiona put her down for a nap and went back to work, and when they went home they played video games after a diaper change..."Okay," Fiona interrupted the fantasy and carried Aimee back to her room, laying her down on the bed and removing the wet diaper. Aimee watched, enthralled as the object of her affection balled up the symbol of her submission and taped it shut. "Get dressed, you have to pretend to be a big girl today, then it's back to diapers the moment you get home tonight, understand?""Really?" Aimee was overjoyed, she ran to the bathroom to get cleaned up. The joy in her voice made Fiona feel even worse, what she was doing was wrong and she knew it. She was manipulating her best friend in the world, using her deepest fantasy as a stepping stone in her career. She'd stepped on a lot of people over the years, but never Aimee. She had no idea how she was going to atone for this, but she'd have to do something."Yes really, and we need to go shopping tonight for an outfit and a carseat," Fiona called as she headed back to her room to get ready for the day, Aimee's only reply was a wordless squee of joy.By the time Fiona was finished with her hair and her makeup, picking out the right shoes and jewelry to match her suit, and doing a pre-commute office email check, Aimee was showered, dressed, and ready to face the day. Fiona exited her room with a briefcase in one hand, only to find a Little in a pink t-shirt that read "Girl Power" and a pair of faded jeans holding her arms up in the air and clenching her fists open and shut."Up!" Aimee grinned, feeling as light as a cloud. Fiona forced a smile and scooped her roommate up with her left arm and carried her out the door, setting her briefcase momentarily to lock up before heading to the car. She gently buckled Aimee into the booster seat, who was practically vibrating with glee. "Thank you!" She shook her tiny fists in front of her chest in a way that was probably considered cute by most Amazons."I need you to unbuckle yourself and get yourself off to work when we get there, can you do that for me?" Fiona asked her friend's reflection in the Little-aid mirror."Yes!" If we could bottle that energy, I could sell it and make a fortune, Fiona thought to herself with a smirk. At least Aimee is happy... she hoped this didn't bite her in the end.* * *Aimee was practically skipping toward the entrance as Fiona drove off."Wow squirt, you're in a good mood," Kurt was sweeping just outside the entrance. "You're really proud of that Employee of the Month, huh?" Aimee started to say thanks, but he cut her off, "Or did you just wake up in a dry bed for a change?""You are such an asshole, Kurt," Aimee was mad at herself for believing he might be turning over a new leaf, like he had some shred of a good person inside him. The apology yesterday was probably just to get her to lower her defenses today. What she didn't know was that Kurt himself hadn't woken up in a dry bed again, and he barely counted as a Mid. If he couldn't get his problem under control, he was going to have to deal with the stipulations in his lease.. a thing a shorter Mid like him was just as afraid of as any Little. He cursed to himself as Aimee walked by, the spring gone from her step. He reminded himself stubbornly that she was just a Little, and went back to sweeping, worried more about Aimee tattling to Helen than Aimee's actual feelings.Aimee was on the verge of tears by the time she got to the ready room. Kurt's insult against her popped the bubble of happiness she had been floating in, and she remembered that the joy she felt was only going to last until Thursday. She let Fiona bully her into going along with her plan.. by giving her exactly what she wanted. And she wanted it so badly. A smile crept across her face as she remembered the fire in the Amazon's eyes as she pushed Aimee's favorite paci between her lips, how effortlessly she had been stripped of her clothing and diapered. That was at the center of nearly every fantasy she had about Fiona, and she replayed that fantasy in her head almost every night before bed. Now that dream would have a touch of the real, a real memory to build around, something to savor. That's worth it, right? she thought to herself, I'm getting what I want and so is Fiona, I should be happy for both of us. As she taped the boring medical diaper on, she imagined Fiona's impossibly strong hands shoving her down again, and lifting her legs in the air. Her skin was tingly by the time she was all taped up, and she was grinning like a loon when she finished zipping up her bear costume. She put her bear-ear headband on her head and fluffed her ringlets and she was back on top again.Helen smiled as she watched Aimee exit the ready room with an enormous grin on her Little face, heading for her post. She couldn't carry her to her platform today, she did that yesterday, she didn't want Aimee to realize that Helen watched her head off to start her shift almost every single day, any time she could... just out of sight. It killed her a little bit to know that the Little was in there, taping up her own diaper. What if she gets it crooked? Helen thought to herself, She needs someone to help her with it, to make sure she's snug and safe. Her face flushed as she imagined slipping a cute, crinkly diaper with cartoon animals on it under the Little's naked body, as opposed to those boring medical diapers that certainly weren't thick enough... and taping it around her waist."Hey boss," Franklin's voice came from behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin, she was so startled, "Whoa, sorry boss, didn't mean to sneak up on you." She turned to face the mustached Little in his brown-and-black uniform. "We sold out of those ladders, we got word this morning that they want us to move the summerwear since it's on sale. Do you want me to go tell the greeter?""No Franklin, thanks - that's great news on the ladders, good job," she smiled down at him. He was a hard worker, a no-nonsense type. Exactly the kind of person she needed in charge of the Independent Little department. "I'll tell the greeter." Maybe I can get her to have lunch with me today, too, Helen thought to herself."Thanks boss, gotta get back to my post, have a great day!""You too Franklin, keep up the great work," Helen walked to catch up with Aimee, now she had an excuse and she could probably get to her before she made it to the front and she'd get to carry her again... She was in luck. "Hey Aimee, I just heard from the Independent Littles department, they sold out of those ladders you've been promoting, great job. Need a lift?""Sure thing, boss!" Aimee was happy to see Helen, she was always happy to be carried. She raised her arms and was lifted to impossible heights... for her, and held close. She closed her eyes and imagined it was Fiona carrying her in her PJs and a thick princess diaper instead of the work uniform and a boring medical one. "Thanks for the lift," she smiled dreamily.Helen's heart melted, Aimee was just too cute for words. She would do anything for this Little wonder.. but they were at work and there was work to be done. She couldn't afford to ask Aimee out, only to end up in trouble for fraternization. She carried her swiftly the rest of the way to the front of the store and helped her up to her platform."They're hoping you can promote summerwear today, there's a sale," Helen said with a smile, aching inside that she had to put the Little down. She would hold her all day if she could."Summerwear, got it! Thanks again for the lift, you're much faster than I am," a warm smile spread across Aimee's lips and Helen had to bite her tongue a bit to keep from cooing. "I think today's going to be a great day, just like yesterday.""I hope so. You let me know if you need anything, okay?""Actually, boss... " Helen's Amazon brain went crazy as the Little hesitated. A fantasy played in Helen's mind unbidden, where Aimee asked her if she would diaper her Little bottom for work from now on, if they could go out to dinner, if Helen wanted to be a mommy... "Is there any way I can get the day off tomorrow? My bestie needs me to stay with her tomorrow and help her out. Sorry for the short notice, but it's really important to her.""Oh," Helen gave a weak smile, "That business lady who drops you off? You two are roommates, right?""Yeah," Aimee smiled a little wistfully herself, "We've been friends forever, she never asks me for help so I really want to be there for her.""Of course, Aimee - I'll take care of the paperwork for you. I hope you're able to help your friend tomorrow. You're a really good friend, she's lucky to have you." Helen suddenly didn't have the guts to ask Aimee to eat lunch with her, there was no way the Little wanted to be cared for the way Helen wanted to care for her."Thanks, Helen. You're a really good friend too, and an amazing boss." Chapter Six Carol typed furiously to keep up with the late morning communications. Her new boss seemed to be in a bit of a foul mood this morning, but they hadn't known each other long enough for Carol to know what that meant. Her previous boss got in moods that felt similar to this, and she had learned that it was often because he forgot to eat or have coffee.. she didn't envy the executive-types. Sure, they had more power, more money, and fancy lifestyles... but they burned themselves out so badly, they forgot to take care of their bodies, and they dealt with a ton of stress. She was quite happy with dealing with the correspondence, fetching things, and organizing. She tried to filter out the pointless communications so they didn't bother Fiona, and promote the ones that seemed like they really needed attention. Honestly, she had a pretty good feeling about Ms. Marr, she seemed like a nice person. She finished up her current task as quickly as possible and went down to the kitchen area for the 14th floor and grabbed a bagel, a muffin, and a cup of black coffee. She wasn't sure how Fiona preferred it yet, so she grabbed some cream and sugar, but she had a feeling that Ms. Marr was the kind of Amazon who preferred it straight and strong. She carried the plate into her new boss' office, hoping that this bad mood was as easily solved as Felix's were. "Miss Ma... Fiona," Carol corrected herself, "I brought you some coffee and a bit of breakfast. How do you like your coffee?" "Oh Carol," Fiona smiled, looking up from her computer. She had been scowling only moments ago, and Carol had seen it. "That's very kind of you. I prefer my coffee black, thank you. And the bagel looks delightful. You're very considerate, I didn't even realize I was peckish." "My pleasure," the assistant smiled, feeling proud of her read of the situation she placed the coffee carefully on Fiona's desk, left the bagel on a small plate and started to withdraw. She'd keep the muffin for herself and return the cream and sugar. "Carol.. " Fiona called after her, before she had left the office. "Do you have a Little?" "No ma'am, my sister does but I've never seen the appeal." "Do you have any Little friends?" Carol started to wonder why her boss was interested in her relationships with Littles. "Well, kind of. There are a few in my yoga class, we get along well enough. But none that I would consider good friends. Why do you ask?" "I have a... well, a Little problem with a close friend, that's all. Just trying to get some perspective. Thanks again for the coffee and the bagel. You are a great assistant and I value you." The compliment warmed Carol's heart, she left her boss' office with a smile and returned to work. * * * Wendy smiled as she browsed through the dresses in the Adopted Littles section of the store. It was so funny to her that Sir Bearington's was popular with both crowds. The Independent Little section was like a shopping market of its own... but for Amazons looking for the perfect Little. She smiled to herself at the thought of snagging one of the Littles shopping around and taking them to a checkout, ringing them up, and taking them home as her own. The thought gave her a little laugh. It was like that on some islands, if she could stomach the food she might move to Catalon. There were two types of Native Littles... those who wanted to be Independent, and those who didn't. Personally, Wendy believed that more Littles who claimed to be in the former category were actually in the latter. Like that adorable greeter she had been so close to getting a dinner date with. That ridiculously tall Amazon woman had thwarted her.. she followed them all the way to the office, but never saw an opening. It was obvious to her that the Little blonde girl wanted to be adopted. Why else would she wear her hair that way? She was practically begging for someone to take her home and diaper her. She pushed the cart slowly down the aisle, looking at the adorable onesies with the built-in skirts. She especially loved the ones that left room for the thickest of diapers. That's what Littles wanted, they wanted to be spanked, to be forced into diapers, they wanted the freedom to beg. Wendy imagined getting that Little blonde greeter girl back to her nursery and strapping her down to the table before she taped her into the thickest diaper of her life. Would she cry real tears? Or would she love it too much regardless of lovely punishments she had prepared? She hoped to find out soon. She picked out a onesie with long sleeves that used Little-resistant snaps up the back of the garment and ended in padded mittens. Perfect, she smiled to herself, the Little wouldn't be able to undo the snaps even with her hands.. without them she'd be completely helpless. The onesie had cartoonish versions of thoroughly bound, thickly diapered Littles on it. So funny to buy this in the same store where her future Little worked. She couldn't wait to see her in it... * * * Helen spotted the lady from yesterday browsing the Adopted Littles section, the one who had been hitting on Aimee. She saw her pick up a punishment onesie and put it in her cart, her eyes far away and dreaming. Helen hated her type. Honestly, she hoped the lady would try to shoplift the garment so she could ban her from the store, but that seemed unlikely. The predator was in a red dress today, with three inch heels. Her dark brown hair curled around her shoulders as Helen's sneer curled her around her lips. Helen hadn't even spoken to this woman, but she loathed her already. She could almost imagine the awful woman's thoughts, justifying doing terrible things to Littles because they "asked for it", she knew the type. She probably thought Aimee wanted to be abused, she had probably already invented some justification, blaming it on Aimee's makeup or work uniform, or her hair. It infuriated her, people should be able to dress however they want without some horrible person justifying their selfish and abusive actions by another's appearance. Nobody deserved to be abused, nobody deserved to have another's will forced upon them, and certainly not because they wanted to feel cute. Aimee was precious and perfect and even if she didn't want to be babied at all, she should have the freedom to express herself in whatever cutesy way she wanted. Helen doubted Aimee wanted it anyway, she had to deal with diapers for work and she lived with a powerful, successful-looking Amazon woman. If anyone were going to adopt the wonderful Little, it would be the woman that Aimee lived with.. that she was going out of her way to help tomorrow. Helen swore she'd keep tabs on this predator. If she came anywhere near Aimee she'd... well, she wasn't sure what she'd do, but she'd protect Aimee, that was for sure. * * * Aimee was having a great day. She had banished all the negative thoughts from her mind and focused on her work, greeting Littles and Mids with warmth and kindness, suggesting current sales to them, and greeting Amazons with her cuteness wielded with full force. She was still supercharged from the memories of her crush taping her into a diaper, the way she had been forced down and stripped... the way she had been carried and cared for. It had been so perfect, Fiona had been listening to her after all. She would give 100% tomorrow, she would be the best adopted Little ever... and then maybe Fiona would want it too. Maybe she would see how happy it made Aimee, maybe she would fall in love back. Fiona had been all smiles this morning, maybe she was starting to come around already. Yeah, that has to be what's happening. There's no way anyone could resist me in just a diaper, doing the grabby hands. Aimee giggled at the thought of how she was scooped up this morning and talked down to. It was everything she had ever wanted. After tomorrow, Fiona would want it too... forever. The crowd reacted well to Aimee, it was another great day. It felt like the day dragged on forever - lunch felt like it took three days to arrive and Aimee kept spacing out during the day, replaying last night in her head and dwelling on Fiona's promise - she would be back in diapers the minute they got home. She wondered how Fiona would do it, would she carry her straight into her room and strip her again? Would they talk about it first? Aimee spent as much time looking at the clock as she did greeting people, but when she focused on the customers she still felt like she did a really good job.After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time to go change back into her everyday clothing and for Fiona to come pick her up... and diaper her again. Time couldn't go fast enough. * * * Time was going entirely too fast for Fiona today. Every time she turned around it seemed like she was catching a ball just before it hit the floor. Carol had been fantastic today, completely on top of things - Fiona probably wouldn't have survived the day without her. There were plans to review, people to meet with, memos to read and write.. she didn't get to spare any time for her pet project, the Little Pilot, but that was the way things went sometimes. As the afternoon came to a close and the evening began, her stomach grumbled. She was really looking forward to Aimee's cooking tonight, she had barely had anything for lunch - Carol had shown up at her desk with a sandwich from the corner store and another coffee, which she took thankfully. She hoped she could convince Aimee to cook a meatloaf tonight, her meatloaf was amazing... then she remembered that she needed to baby Aimee tonight, there would be no homecooked meal. She had to diaper and dominate her friend tonight rather than enjoying their equal friendship, she had to take the Little shopping for a dress and diapers, and a carseat. She sighed, her dreams of the beloved meal dissipating into the air like the steam from one of Aimee's wonderful dishes. It was probably going to be fast food again tonight. She knew that the drive-thru sandwich place nearby the apartment sold pureed Little meals, she'd make sure Aimee got the full experience. No, she sighed to herself, I won't make Aimee's baby day unpleasant. She'd dote on her friend, she'd make her feel warm and loved, she'd be a princess for a day. Even though she wasn't entirely willing at first, Aimee was doing her a huge favor by getting her into Osmium. Hopefully it was the final step she needed to start gathering real testing data on the Little Pilot. Everything would feel worth it when that product was launched, she would help make life better for Littles everywhere. With a heavy heart, she closed up her computer for the day. Carol was gone, she had worked hard today. Fiona would have felt guilty if she had left before her assistant after the woman had worked so hard to keep up with her all day. She headed down to her car and drove off to pick up Aimee. When the Little climbed into the back of the car and buckled herself in, Fiona could see how happy she was. She must have had another great day. Time to make it even better for her. "Hello, baby girl," Fiona purred to her friend, "No talkies until I say so. I want my Little completely silent for now. I had a hard day and I won't put up with any fussing. We need to get you home and get you diapered so we can go shopping. We're going to have my favorite restaurant for dinner tonight, since we had yours last night." Aimee's heart rattled around in her chest like a caged animal, she was too giddy to speak anyway. It was time to begin the day of her fantasies, at Fiona's loving mercy. She couldn't wait for Fiona to diaper her, she wished they were home already... she also wished she had her paci and a stuffed animal to hug. It was hard to be this happy without something to hug!

And now, without further ado, Interlude 2, which is substantially different than everything else. As usual, comments are amazing, doubly so with something a bit more experimental like this. Interlude 2: A Good Kitten “Well, that was an absolute shambles.” Leanne slammed the apartment door shut, punctuating her exasperation “You can say 'total shitshow,' babe. There's no one else to hear,” Isis reminded her, shifting back to her human form atop a pile of discarded clothes and jewelry that mere seconds ago had been her Gala outfit. She gave them a dismissive glance that might as well have come from her feline form, and headed back out into the living room, clad only in her most comfortable pair of black underwear. Draping herself languidly across the well-used cushions of the beige couch, she took a deep breath that quickly turned into a yawn. “Total shitshow, then,” Leanne said from the kitchenette. Isis chuckled, and curled herself up on the sofa. Leanne's impeccable received pronunciation clashed delightfully with the profanity she uttered; it was like watching a high-society lady stomp her way through a mud puddle in her best evening gown. For the next few minutes, Isis just lay there, enjoying the soft warmth of the cushions, and the scents of her grandmother's house, with its three dogs and four cats, that had been woven into the fabric over its decades of service. The hand-me-down couch was her favorite part of their shared living room, a defiantly shabby centerpiece that refused to accommodate the meticulous coordination of expensive and immaculate black leather that surrounded it. Most evenings, she took particular satisfaction in lounging there, half-naked with soda in one hand, as she imagined the chagrin of that Liam Shelby Sr., the patriarch of the Shelby line, whose dour portrait hung on the opposite wall, would feel at the sight. At the moment though, she was too exhausted to want to bother with the old man, so she just turned the other way, so her gaze turned to the catalog of stains ancient and recent; a less prestigious record of service, but in its own quiet way, no less honorable. “Tea?” Leanne appeared with a cup and saucer in each hand, “Or would you like it in a saucer, kitten?” Isis felt a little jolt of pleasure dart down her spine that had nothing to do with her partner's electrical powers, save perhaps one. She scooted herself over to let Leanne sit down beside her, then leaned her head against her partner's shoulder as she put her own cup down on the table next to her. “Cup's fine,” Isis replied quickly, turning over to rest both hands on Leanne's right leg, so her face was right above the tea, steam wafting gently past her nose. Once she was in position, Isis lowered her lips to the tea, and began to lap it up. The process was messy by necessity and the next time Isis looked up, Leanne traced her lips with a finger to catch a few errant drops of liquid. Isis gave Leanne's index finger a nibble as it passed, and Leanne gamely held it in place until she was finished. The tea switched hands, so that Isis found it easier to just lay across her partner's lap to maintain her access to delicious caffeine. In response, Leanne rolled back her skirt so that Isis's head lay on the warm smoothness of her legs, as she ran a hand through her thick dark hair. Isis sighed a satisfied sigh, thinking how far they'd come since that first time. The nervousness that she'd felt then, the slight shaking of Leanne's hand, and in the rapid beating of her own heart, was gone, and her partner's touch was reassuringly familiar. “Still, at least I get to walk away from this in a few months. You're the one who's got to deal with my failure. I wanted to set you up to inherit a team with the resources to do anything you wanted, but once Bridget...” her voice trailed off. “The paramedics said she probably had a seizure or something; that's hardly her fault.” Leanne nodded in agreement, but kept stirring her tea absently, long after the sugar had dissolved. “Besides, I don't think me and that Vector lady would have gotten along great anyway.” It was a transparent excuse, of course, but there was no denying that the woman did make her skin crawl. She thought of the strange, impassive way that Sonia Quentin had kept her eyes fixed on Leanne and the contract in front of them. The woman had said and done nothing, even as Sami and her parents rushed to Bridget's side, and the staff hurried to administer first aid to the massive gash on the girl's forehead. It wasn't that she'd frozen up; that would have been normal, especially for someone not trained to react in emergencies. It was that she'd watched Leanne clear everyone away, and direct the ensuing chaos, with the same detached interest with which one might examine the scurrying bustle of an ant farm. Once she'd dusted herself off, she'd simply withdrawn to consult with her legal team, which Isis thought was heartless, even by corporate standards. She'd wanted to complain more forcefully, and in ways that would give even Vector's peerless PR flacks conniptions, but once it was clear that Bridget was going to be all right, Leanne had expressly forbidden it. Sometimes, of course, forbidden didn't mean forbidden, but there had been a steely edge to Leanne's voice that Isis rarely heard outside of combat. “Besides, it's not that big a loss,” Isis continued. “We'll manage.” She even almost believed it. Yeah. And, it's not as though it's all bad. For one thing, we'll have our own place soon, where we don't have to answer to anybody.” She looked over at the dining room table, where her laptop showed picture after picture of the house they'd picked out. It was a tiny thing, that would have barely been considered for to be a guest house in Shelby Manor, but it had a single lovely tree in the yard, and the cutest round window in its front door. “Just two queers and their quantum pet cat.” Isis said with a smirk. “I do hope my kitten finds enough scope there for her particular brand of lovable mischief.” Leanne replied, gently tousling Isis's hair. “I'm sure she will, as long as you remember to take her for walkies now and again.” “Like she'd ever let me leash her,” Leanne said with a laugh. “Well, it still counts as a walk if you walk and I ride on you. That's just science.” “Oh, are we branching out? I thought a spell to make me do it would be more your style.” “I certainly could if you wanted.” Isis nibbled playfully at Leanne's cheek “Silly kitten,” Leanne said, sticking out her tongue, all her usual stiffness and dignity absent. “I imagine you'll have quite a lot to learn without adding spell research to the mix.” “I'll have all that leadership stuff down in no time,” Isis replied with her customary confidence “I know you will,” Leanne replied, her voice reassuring in the face of the fear Isis didn't need to express aloud. Leanne bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “It should be easy, you won't have a young hotshot leader who insists on trying to fight Iron Eagle, Serrate, and Legion all at the same time.” “Well yeah,” Isis conceded, “I'd just have two young hotshot teammates who would jump in to fight them all together. Hopefully they'll follow your example and get their heads screwed on right in the end, though.” “Hopefully. Besides, I'm sure, you'll learn quickly what buttons you need to push to get the response out of them.” Leanne began tracing her fingers in a light, tingling path over Isis's curves, with the barest hint of electricity every few moments. The sensation drew Isis's attention until her whole awareness was spent following the path of Leanne's touch. Her anticipation grew and grew as Leanne's fingers journeyed lower and lower, flirting first with the small of her back, then gradually winding their way even further down. She let out a sudden gasp of surprise and pleasure as Leanne's fingers suddenly abandoned their tracery to grab at the sensitive little nook right at the base of her butt. Seizing the moment, Leanne kissed her fully on her open mouth, her tongue pushing just hard enough to make Isis's whole body shudder. A moment later, Isis squirmed forward to reciprocate Leanne's squeeze, taking one of her breasts in each hand, and moving her fingers just enough to flick at her nipples, which stiffened beneath her bra. It was Leanne's turn to moan in pleasure, and their kiss became a dance, one tongue thrusting forward, one yielding, until the net moment where the situation was suddenly reversed. Leanne's moans rose in pitch as Isis nibbled at the base of her neck,gently enough not to cause pain, but hard enough that Leanne couldn't pull back to escape the riot of sensation. She only let go when Leanne's fingers moved their way around to her front, massaging her clit through the achingly thing black fabric of her panties, first slowly, then picking up speed as they went up and down along her lips, sending waves of pleasure crashing through her whole body. “There, that's a good kitten,” Leanne whispered in her ear. “That's the thing you know,” she continued, wriggling herself off the couch and onto the carpet, so that her head was even with Isis's waist. “Leadership has its own rewards.” Isis was an accomplished sorceress, and could take the form of any number of creatures great and small. As a result, she didn't think much of the aspects of Leanne's physique that most people pined for. Her golden hair and blue eyes, the soft ivory of her skin, all those were just a cantrip away. Still, she couldn't help but feel in awe of the skillful ways that Leanne cold make use of her three inches of tongue, and the ecstatic spells she could weave with it. Later, as they cuddled next to each other, utterly spent, Isis asked a question to which she hoped she knew the answer. “You'll still be there if I need you, right babe?”Her voice quivered with uncertainty that she'd have been mortified if anyone but Leanne had heard “Of course I will, my good little kitten,” Leanne replied, and drew her into a tight, warm embrace.

Writing this chapter was harder then I thought. I had the whole date planned out and most of it written only to scrap it all. I realized that all they were going to do was talk about their pasts, but we already know Becky's and Mrs. Randels would be interesting but it offered nothing to the story. It took a while but I think this worked out better. Chapter 9 The soft comfortable bed was a contrast to a pounding headache. She had clearly drunk too much last night but the memories were fuzzy at best. Looking down she learned she was naked, save for her soaked diaper. She normally didn't sleep naked but she clearly had been really drunk. Becky found herself yawning as she rolled over on her side. Her open mouth had found itself invaded by the bare breast and nipple of the person sleeping next to her, Mrs. Randel. Mrs. Randel started to stir as she felt a mouth on her breast. "Are you awake or just a little frisky?" The voice of Mrs. Randel was softer more like one would speak to a lover or small child. "I'm sorry Mrs. Randel I didn't-" "Becky I told you last night just call me Brianna." Mrs. Randel reaches her hand down and began running the crotch of Becky's diaper. Becky found herself moaning as she did. "As much as I would like to say here all day we need to get to work and your soaked. Go take a shower, I'll use the main bathroom." The naked Mrs. Randel slid out of bed and left the room with Becky still laying in her wet diaper. Becky was confused but didn't argue, she made her way into the bathroom, stripping off her diaper and stepping into the hot shower. She let the hot water wash over her, it seemed to help her hangover a little. She was trying to put together what happened the night before. She remembers going to a restaurant where she was the only diaper girl, she remembered talking for hours with Mrs. Randel about everything. She had explained everything that happened with Emily and Mrs. Randel who had asked to be called Brianna had explained her past. She remembers drinking too much and Mrs. Randel bringing her back here, after that it's a blur but she does remember being face first in Mrs. Rnadel's naked crotch at some point. She had slept with her boss, this was either really good or really bad and she was leaning to really bad. If anyone above found out they might do something, though Becky couldn't think of what. Drying off Becky knew that she didn't remember everything that had happened, but she does remember feeling happier then she had in a long time. It was then she realized she didn't have anything to wear, however, Mrs. Randel was waiting for her when she opened the door. She was finishing getting dressed when Becky left the bathroom. "I was going to come in soon to make sure you didn't die in there. Come on I got some D2+ diapers from work for you." Becky didn't argue and just went along with it for the time being. "Mrs. Rand... Brianna, Thank you for last night. I'm sorry if I came on a little strong when I was drunk" Becky wanted to ask what happened but figured it would be best to believe it was her own fault. Brianna finished taping the diaper closed. "You don't remember much of last night do you?" Becky wave her had to the side, showing she did remember some of it. "Don't worry about it Becky, you were a lady last night. It took a while for me to get into your diaper." She said with a wink. "I haven't been with someone in a long time, it was a wonderful night." "Your welcome, I think. What do we do now? What about work? I don't have anything to wear and-" "Becky calm down." Brianna laughed. "I think I have a blouse you can wear to work today and I can drop you off. As for work, what about it? We work in different building and won't normally see each other at work. It shouldn't be an issue for us unless you don't..." Brianna had let that float for a moment waiting for Becky's response. "No it's not that, it's just why me?" A warm smile stretched across Brianna's face that melted her heart. "Your kind, understanding, beautiful and that diaper makes you have the cutest butt." Becky found herself blushing, "I... Thank you. It's just hard for me, I haven't dated since... Since the change." "I know, and we will take this one day at a time. For now, lets get something to eat and get to work." Brianna had made a quick breakfast for them both before they were off to work. It was a quiet car ride but wasn't borning. Becky was still trying to remember everything from the night before but she had been too drunk to remember. Whatever Brianna had given her for the hangover was helping though not as much as she would like. Her thoughts turned back to Brianna and the relationship she now found herself in. Brianna was gorgeous and kind, but she was a woman and Becky herself was a diaper girl. Was Brianna looking for a lover or a daughter? Becky liked the idea of a relationship but what happened if Brianna wanted a little baby and not a wife? Would she become like Lisa, living the life of a child or baby just to make her mommy happy? She did have feelings for Brianna she couldn't deny that but was this a good idea? The car suddenly stopped next to her own. "I'll see you late cutie," Brianna leaned over and gave her a kiss before Becky got out of the car. Becky watched as the car drove away, this had turned into an interesting week already. Becky made her way inside to the check-in desk. "Oh, Ms. Rivers you don't need to sign in. Ms. Jones has taken care of that for you." "Oh," Becky wasn't sure what the protocol was yet. "I guess I'll just head in." Becky got to the room she had been testing in yesterday but it was locked, unsure what to do she knocked. A moment later Ms. Jones opened the door. "Sorry about that Becky, didn't want anyone to scare me like yesterday. Did you have a good dinner with your boss? Maybe a raise?" It was clear Ms. Jones was doing her best to poke fun at her to lighten the mood. "It was nice, but I drank too much." "I'm sorry. Well, let's get to it, hop up and let's get you changed. Becky assumed the position and her D2+ diaper was removed and the ridiculously thick D5 was placed under her. She still couldn't believe how thick the diaper was, she couldn't walk in it and could only bearly stand. Once her diaper was taped shut she was moved into the sitting position before Ms. Jones started removing her blouse. "I have to be topless?!" Ms. Jones had already removed Becky blouse and was working on her bra. "This part might get messy and we don't want your clothing dirty do we?" Becky couldn't argue with that and soon found herself naked safe for her diaper. "So what are we te-" A massive pacifier was shoved into her mouth. "That's a pacifier that is normally used in the playpen, this is a new model." Becky thought back to yesterday and the bottle she had tested, she had fallen sleep drinking from it. As she was thinking of the bottle she suddenly remembered the date last night, Brianna had said Diapered 4 Life wasn't testing any baby bottles yet she had been testing it that day. Suddenly she was confused, she was only supposed to test stuff from Diapered 4 Life. Becky pulled the massive pacifier out to speak. "Diapered 4 Life doesn't make pacifiers or bottles why am I testing them?" Becky was looking over her shoulder to see Ms. Jones coming back. "I know." Ms. Jones said pushing the pacifier back into her mouth. "But you made Mommy Kayla very unhappy." Suddenly she felt a sharp pain on the other side of her neck. When she turned to look she saw a needle being removed. The pain in her neck was suddenly turning to warmth, and it was spreading. First, to her chest and her mouth, the pacifier was still there but she suddenly found herself sucking on it and drool dripping from her chin. A moment of fear caused to slide off the changing station, as the diaper was so thick she couldn't walk, all she could do was lean on Ms. Jones. "It's ok sweety, Lily will love her new little sister." Was whispered in her ear. The warmth was spreading down past her tummy and into her head. Everything suddenly felt fuzzy and happy. She felt even more warmth began to fill her diaper, a slight hissing sound in the form and a loud fart in the back. "That's it, little baby, poop out all those big girl thoughts you won't need them anymore." Becky wasn't sure why but she found herself giggling as she was pooping, the feeling of it filling her diaper just filled her with joy. Ms. Jones lowered her to the ground where her diaper squished as she hit the ground. The pleasure of sitting in her own mess returned but her infantile mind just caused her to laughed at the feeling. Becky's simple mind was so focused on the pile of poop on her butt she never notices Ms. jones pull out her phone. "It's done."

the jury has been in on the economics of this for 30 years, including an economic social workder for the state of RI, who brought it up on her own while describing bad economic practicies she had seen and she sounded incensed about this. Also she commented on not using rubber panties if you do use throw-aways I said 24. that is actually 48, a heavy, which cost me $7 to make, and a light, which cost me $5, and lasted 8-1/2 years with quite a bit of life left in them at the rate I use them, used together. the new machine I got, which I had to get anyway, is capable of handling over 300 lbs. I "overbought" because I could do so at a good price: Sears Outlet. I suspect my dryer will need replacement soon and I am already doing practice runs on that Besdies, as far as I am concerned, throw-aways are not diapers. They used to be called "pampers" and, in the real world, no grownup wants to be known as wearing diapers and would rather not have them called that, and they are yucky; and I shall never have to worry about a blowout, tape fuailure, clumping or coming apart and leaks are just about unknown, maybe 5 in 8-1/2 years and only two of those got on the bed I also wear the recommended number of rubber panties for a Little; even if she is in pampers Also, there is the privacy of my neighbors not having a chance of knowing a thing about it; just me and the dollies

The kitchen was colder than the living room. She sat her lantern down on the edge of the big kitchen table. There was no electricity at night, so she couldn’t turn on the lights even if she’d wanted to. Cookie tins- some gifts from neighbors in the village or girls from the League- lined up on the counter between the sink and the icebox. The stacks weren’t as high as the years before the war; a reminder that all across the Reich, German families were scraping by just like them. Solidarity in hardship. The tins were full of pfeffernusse, spongy soft, puffy spice cookies dipped in a sweet, thick white glaze. Others held allerlei cookies- spiced gingerbread and molasses sweetened with a thin glaze. The soft, chewy cookies came in traditional shapes like stars, trees, angels, snowmen and rocking horses. Swastika cookie cutters were popular, too, to celebrate their Aryan roots. Loaves of sweet bread and nut rolls lay on the kitchen table under dish towels. Gertrude felt almost guilty as she flipped back the corner of a towel and picked up a knife to cut a small slice of stollen. She felt better when she saw a little piece was already missing- another family member already stole some stollen. Even here, the selection was thin. No confectioner’s sugar dusted the top of the loaf. Usually, her aunt’s stollen was full of raisins and chunks of dried, candied fruit. This year, the raisins were few and far between. Sugar and flour had been used sparingly, stretching the rations out as much as possible. Gertrude had done the same thing with the ginger and clove spices when she made batches of lebkuchen, soft spice cookies dipped in chocolate. She’d watered the chocolate down with milk to stretch it out. The result was less than delicious, but at least they had cookies. Gertrude cut a thin slice and covered the loaf back up. She broke the slice in half- one for her, one for Heidi. She bit into her small piece. She could barely taste the sugar and spices. It tasted like dry paper- her mom had held back on the butter that made it so creamy and moist. She’d skimped on the sugar and flour. All the sweet bits Gertrude looked forward to and treasured, gone. The stollen tasted like….Christmas without her sister. Tears blurred her eyes. The stollen was a dry, papery lump in her mouth. She wanted to spit it out. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, the frayed lace cuffs harsh on her soft skin. She forced herself to swallow the flavorless lump. “Enough. Stop it. You’re a strong German girl. What would Heidi say if she saw you like this?” Gertrude tried to rally herself. If Heidi was here, she wouldn’t have been able to talk, but Gertrude easily pictured the disdainful, scornful look Heidi would give her when she thought Gertrude was being a big crybaby. She sniffled, blinking back the rest of her tears. She raise the other half of the stollen up to the ceiling. Up to Heidi in heaven. “Prost.” Her whisper was as dry and dull as the sweet-loaf bread. She toasted her twin, then shoved the bland morsel into her mouth whole. She chewed, pretending the stollen was moist and dense, sweetness oozing over her tongue and bits of candied fruit popping between her teeth. She closed her eyes, remembering happier times of her childhood. Snowball fights with her cousins. Throwing snowballs up at her bedroom window to make Heidi laugh and stick her tongue out. Josef pulling a sled while she sat on it, holding Heidi up. The three of them would go careening down a snow covered hill. Quite often, her best friend Magda would join in. Magda. The name brought Gertrude up short. She swallowed the mushy lump of stollen. She hadn’t thought of her for years. As little girls, they’d been inseparable, ever since they met in their first year of school. An older girl had been teasing the little Jewish girl, flipping up her skirt and showing the other kids her bulging diaper. The crying six year old Magda had worn thick, bulky cloth diapers covered by voluminous rubber panties. The Jew’s diapers made Gertrude think of Heidi, so Gertrude had calmly walked up to the jeering older girl and socked her hard, right in the nose. Just like Josef taught her. The girl’s nose had crunched, blood spurting out. The older girl had punched Magda back, giving her a black eye before running off crying for her mommy. Magda had given Gertrude the cookies from her lunch as a thank you. After that, the girls became fast friends. They’d played together every day. Adults hadn’t been happy about the friendship, so the girls snuck off and played together in the woods or in Gertrude’s family barn. There weren’t that many hiding places in the small barn, so they usually played up in the hayloft. Sometimes they snuck inside to play with Heidi. Magda never laughed- she even learned to interpret some of Heidi’s grunts. Magda and Heidi became friends the first time Gertrude brought Madga to meet Heidi. Heidi’s thick, soggy cloth diapers and rubber panties had leaked all over the bed. Heidi had been upset. To calm her, Magda didn’t hesitate to lift up her dress and show Heidi her own soggy diapers. Magda, Heidi, and Gertrude had become known by the village kids as the Diaper Brigade. The Diaper Girls. Heidi might not get out much, but the whole village knew of her from her cousins and other relatives talking. Gertrude didn’t wear or need diapers, but she was found guilty and soggy by association. Some of the boys had tried to flip up Gertrude’s dress, too, to see if she was diapered. They knocked that off after Gertrude slugged them a few times. Having a disabled sister and being best friends with a pants-pissing Jew hadn’t helped her popularity with the village children. As they grew bigger, there were more chores and less time for playing They didn’t see each other as much. Looking back, Gertrude wondered if that was deliberate on their parents’ end. Teachers and youth leaders yammered on about the importance of blood purity, on eugenics and the natural evolutionary superiority of the aryan race. History teachers taught how the Jews had betrayed Germany in the Great World War. They had all been spies for the enemy. They caused the economic hardships under the Weimar Republic. During the Great Depression, while good Germans suffered, greedy Jews grew rich. Most Jews might be bad, but Magda and her absorbent, padded underpants weren’t like that at all. Everything came to a head one summer evening. Gertrude and Magda had played all day; Gertrude walked Magda home to keep other German kids from teasing her. The windows to Magda’s house were open. Magda’s uncle and her father were arguing inside. So Gertrude and Magda, just like many kids would, hid under the windowsill and listened in. “Come with us, Jakob. I’m begging you.” The deep voice belonged to Magda’s uncle, Rudolf. He had been a tailor, at least until a law had been passed that banned Jews from the profession. “Move to America? They don’t want us there. No countries want us. They can barely afford to feed their own people. There’s no room for us, anywhere. We both fought in the Great War for Germany. It’s our home. Things are really tough right now, so people are lashing ut. We just have to be patient and ride it out.” The reedy voice belonged to Magda’s father, Jakob. “I’ve got a job lined up. I could get you one, too.” “Through the same connections you get those American papers from? Do you have any idea how much danger that puts us in?” Jakob hissed, sounding like a leaky hose. “I burn them after I read them. It’s always good to hear what the other side says. And that’s exactly why I’m leaving. You can only read German papers, listen to German radio- hell, the Volksempfanger model can’t even pick up any foreign broadcasts. First the Brown Shirts boycotted our businesses. Then, a law says Jews can’t own land. Another law says Jews can’t be newspaper editors. Then we’re not allowed in the National Health Insurance. No more Jewish teachers, accountants, dentists, doctors, lawyers. Then we have to register all our wealth and property. We have to get identity cards from the police. Our taxes go up. Everyday, the list grows. They take more and more of our rights and our money. I’m taking my family out of here before they start taking our lives. I see the writing on the wall. “ Magda’s uncle sounded tired and sad, like this was an old argument. “........” Silence stretched out while Magda’s father didn’t reply. “I won’t-I can’t- put it off any longer. So, come with me.” Her uncle implored. “Those American rags made you crazy. How are you going to afford the emigration tax for Jews? It’s up to 80%. Those bastards will take practically all your money. You’ll be poor in America.” “Take it all now, or little by little- either way, it’ll end up in Nazi hands. We’re already poor here. There, at least I’ll have a job. I can always make more money. Even if it’s just with the clothes on my back, I’m leaving while I can. I wish you’d come along with us. Even our parents are going.” “You’re going to leave me, Martha and little Magda in this house all by ourselves.” Magda’s dad sounded tired, the fire going out of him when he realized he couldn’t change his brother’s mind. “It doesn’t have to be this way. At least let me take Magda. This life here...it’s no future for her.” Her uncle’s voice trailed off into low mumbling. Gertrude and Magda hadn’t hear the rest of the conversation- a series of harsh whispers followed by the fleshy thump of a fist hitting a table. The door had banged open; the girls had shrunk back against the wooden siding of the house. Magda’s uncle had stepped out onto the porch, face tilted up to heaven. He had noticed the girls with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The world’s falling apart. Why don’t you two go sew it up a bit? Go play.” He’d given them each a piece of hard candy from his pocket and walked off. Moments later, Magda’s father had come out onto the porch. He’d stared at his brother’s back, then had looked down at the girls. “Gertrude, you head on home. No more playing with Magda.” Gertrude’s child mind had thought he meant for the day. Turned out he meant forever. Days later, Magda’s uncle and the rest of the family left for America. All the small village watched them go. Only the few Jewish families were sorry to see them leave. After that, Magda sometimes snuck out to Gertrude’s farm to play when she could, when her father wasn’t looking. Those times were few and far between. They grew increasingly further apart until they stopped altogether. After a law was passed that kicked Jewish kids out of German schools, they didn’t see each other at all. Then one day, a group of SS Sturmabteilung soldiers- Brown Shirts- appeared. They had the Jews gather up what belongings they could then herded them at rifle point into trucks. That was the last time Gertrude ever saw Magda.

No. One, I never want to go 24/7, EVER!!! I would only do that (reluctantly) if I became incontinent medically or due to an accident and had no choice but to constantly be in diapers for actual uncontrollable need. People who really read the forums know I have always advocated a good healthy balance between your AB/DL fetish lifestyle and real life. I wear for fun and enjoyment a few times a week but there's a lot more to life than diapers. People will argue that you can do everything while also wearing diapers and that's true, I just prefer to keep my diaper interests seperate from the rest of my life. While I do like diapers and am a life long DL, I don't like to limit myself to one brand. These days I do get most of my diapers from thrift stores and Goodwill when they have them. Having all the free diapers I would need or want would be a nice thing, but being limited to only one brand? No. I like the variety offered and while I don't wear premium diapers, there are so many good diapers out there of different sizes, colors, shapes and fit, some cloth backed and some plastic backed. Everyone has their favorite diaper, but choosing one brand and not being allowed to change or try different brands? If I did go for it (which I never would), it would be hard to live with using only one brand of diaper 24/7/365. You can still buy other brands out of your own pocket for variety, but isn't that defeating the purpose of free diapers?

I don't need them for medical reasons, but I don't think I'd be very stable if I didn't have them once in a while. They are a huge form of stress relief. Sort of like... a detox or something. So I marked Need - mental/emotional! Thanks for including that as an option!

Interlude 1: Playing House Rain droplets hurled themselves against the light-blue siding of the house in a torrent of tiny thuds, covered the small window that was the only source of illumination in the dank, unfinished, basement. The glare of light filtered through an overcast sky outlined Margot in a silvery nimbus as she rooted through a mountain of boxes piled against a concrete wall. She was on her knees, perched on the lowest row of the largest boxes, craning her neck to examine the contents of a smaller box that the movers had wedged higher up. A bit of black showed through the pile of colorful plastic jewelry and cheap little toys that chronicled years of kids' meals at every one of the fast food restaurants in town. With a grunt of effort, Margot shoved the chintzy tchotchkes aside, hoping to find the onyx necklace that she could've sworn she'd saved from boxing, but had been unable to locate in the weeks since the move. As she did so, she complained silently at her mother's tendency to never get rid of of anything, which was once again making her life more difficult. Whether it was useless plastic toys or a worthless garbage pile of a husband, her mom could never seem to let anything go. Heck, it had taken her three miserable years and a raft of charges to finally leave that asshole behind. Margot's fingers wrapped around the protruding object, and she let out a sigh of annoyance as she realized that it was as plastic as everything else, not the hard, smooth rock she'd hoped to feel. She pulled it out, more out of spite than anything else. Once again, Margot was shown prof of the universal truth that misfortunes never come alone, as the effort of doing so knocked her from her precarious cardboard perch. Pain pulsed though her legs as her feet hit the floor. She looked at the object she'd pulled out, her black-lined eyes squinting in the dim light. It was a small toy frying pan, with two stickers that had been made to look like strips of bacon stuck to the inside. There was a small blue button on the handle, which she pressed without thinking. As she did so, a tinny sound that might charitably have resembled the crackling of oil came from the toy. The sudden noise startled Margot, and shook a memory loose, the memory of the time she'd last heard the sound, more than ten years earlier. – “Come on, Bridget, let's play house!” A much younger Margot stood in a much larger, brighter basement. She held her sizzling frying pan tightly in one tiny hand as she looked over at her friend from behind a the counter of a plastic kitchen playset. She wore a white dress over black and white striped socks and white light-up sneakers that were her favorite thing in the world,. They were a birthday present she'd begged her father for every night for a month before he finally got them for her. Margot's hair was done up in a french braid that she had insisted on doing herself and wore with pride, even if it was a little loose and messy. Bridget, for her part, was engrossed in Margot's collection of superhero action figures. She knelt on a rug that was decorated like a miniature city, with roads and houses, stores and police stations, all centered around the image of the headquarters of the League of Virtue. The figure of Lieutenant Lightning in his signature bomber jacket that she held in her left hand was squared off against a monorail held in her right. that was about to run over some hapless Barbie dolls. A figurine of the Lieutenant's nemesis, the Iron Eagle, sneered down at him from atop a bookshelf as he surveyed the scene of his evil plan come to fruition. “But I'm playing heroes!” Bridget protested as she looked up at her friend, shifting the beige towel she wore on her shoulders as a makeshift cape. “Pleeeeease!” Margot begged. “I'll play Iron Eagle and let you put me in jail later if you do!” Bridget's eyes lit up at the prospect of winning the argument the two girls always had over who would get to be the hero. “Okay!” Bridget said happily, and went over to join her friend and survey the playset. “I wanna play too!” came a voice from upstairs, shortly followed by the muffled patter of sneakers on carpeted stairs. In a few seconds Sami's blonde head peeked out from behind the pillar at the base of the stairs. She was visibly out of breath from the effort of the climb down, and she maintained a white-knuckle grip on the wooden railing to keep herself stable. “Be careful, Sami sweetheart!” the voice of Bridget's mother admonished from the kitchen above. “Remember, the doctor says no roughhousing. Bridget, don't do anything that would hurt your sister.” “Okay.” Bridget called back, with a little sigh stuck on at the end that only Margot heard . Margot led her two friends over to her kitchen, ignoring Bridget's pout. Bridget always complained about things until she actually got to doing them and had a good time. Besides, it was house, and house was the best game. Margot took charge; it was her house after all, and her mommy always said that it was a hostess's job to be in charge of her guests having fun. “We have three people, so we can have two grownups and a baby.” “Oooh!” Sami said excitedly. “I should be a grownup because I'm the oldest!" She smiled, proud of her irrefutable logic. This was fine with Margot, and she moved on to the next decision. “Of course, I'm a grownup too, because I'm the tallest!” she declared. Bridget, meanwhile, registered her displeasure at this outcome. “No fair!” she whined “Why do I gotta be the baby? Sami should be, she's the one who still wears diapers!” Sami drew back as though Bridget had slapped her. She looked down at the floor for a second, and when she spoke up, it was in a quiet voice that quavered on the verge of tears. “Nuh-uh, I don't!” Sami tugged at the bottom of her scalloped baby-blue T-shirt. “That was nly in the hospital, I don't have to anymore! Why are you so mean, Bridget?” Margot fixed Bridget with the best impression of her father's, “you're in trouble now, Missy” look she could muster, the one that usually meant Margot was going to take a one-way trip to the dreaded quiet corner. But Bridget just looked surprised at Sami's reaction, and, faced with her best friend's anger and her sister's tears, she apologized immediately. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I'll be the baby!” Now it was Bridget's who seemed like she was about to cry, as Sami's sniffles abated. “Don't worry!” Margot tried to reassure her friend. Being a baby just means that you get to do only fun things while we hafta do all the work. And you get to wear all the pretty clothes! Margot rushed as fast as her tiny legs would carry her to a pink toy chest where she kept all her dress-up outfits and play jewelry. She picked out a purple necklace with a pink plastic heart on it to give her friend. A smile formed on Margot's face as she did so, she knew that Bridget loved everything purple. Sure enough, when Margot put the necklace on Bridget, she was much happier. “Oooh, can I wear your puffy purple dress?” Bridget asked eagerly. “Sure!” Margot replied happily, “but babies can't dress themselves, so mommy Sami hasta help you get it on.” Sami happily complied, and dashed off to open the toy chest. When she returned, she was beaming, and began joyfully instructing Bridget, who received her instruction with considerably less enthusiasm, how she should put it on. Bridget's annoyance with her sister didn't, however, prevent her from several satisfied twirls and joyful pulling on the puffs of her sleeves as she and her sister watched in the mirror. Sami pat her sister on her brown hair, fluffing it a little. “Who's mommy's little cutie?” she cooed, booping Bridget's nose. Bridget wrinkled her nose in response, but couldn't help giggling at the sudden sensation. “What a pretty dress! For a dress that pretty,we need to braid your hair! No peeking till it's done though!” Margot said in a singsong voice, joining Sami's fawning over their new baby.. Bridget dutifully put her hands over her eyes. Margot skipped happily behind where Sami had sat Bridget down and enthusiastically set to parting and winding Bridget's hair together, singing a little song that her mom had taught her to help he remember the steps. Bridget grimaced and tried super hard not to cry out in pain, but it took Margot a few tries to get the sections to stay right, and a loud “Ow!” escaped her lips after a particularly hard tug. But Margot was able to get Bridget's hair braided and surveyed her work with pride. “How does it look?” Bridget asked, turning her head back eagerly toward her friend. Margot was about to answer, when she suddenly had an idea. “Hang on, Baby Bridget, I gotta get you a present from work!” She turned on the spot and dashed off deeper into the basement, looking in a little wooden cabinet of old baby stuff until she found a proper gift for her little girl. With her, she also took a small brown suitcase that her father kept in his basement office. She felt a bit guilty for playing with something she knew she shouldn't , but if she was going to play the part of work boss mommy, she obviously needed a suitcase And this was the best one of course; its worn brown leather always felt so nice against her hand. With the suitcase dragging behind her, Margot returned to Sami and Bridget. “Margot!” Bridget whined, “can I look yet?” “Of course, baby. It's very pretty. Sorry I'm late, I had to fill my important work suitcase with all my important work papers.” Margot cleared her throat self importantly, attempting to mimic the way her father always told her about all the important deals he'd made at work. The gravitas of her recounting only slightly undercut by the fact that her rendition was about two octaves higher than the real thing. Still, when she sat cross legged in a tiny yellow chair and looked at Sami expectantly, it was a perfect re-creation of the way he asked his wife if dinner was ready. For her part, Sami had found a pink apron with a kitten on the front, and was happily, if not entirely successfully, practicing flipping little plastic hamburger patties in the sizzle pan. All of them found the noise it made delightful, and they took a break from their domestic scene to press the sound button the handle at least five times each. Bridget, in true childish fashion, brought them back to the game with a demand for attention. “Mommy Margot, I want my present!” Bridget exclaimed, clearly enjoying herself despite herr earlier complaints. She bounced up and down in her chair with excitement, delighting in the opportunity to be bratty without getting scolded. Margot obliged Bridget's request and produced from her other hand a white pacifier. “But-” Bridget began to protest, but as soon as her mouth opened, Margot inserted the pacifier, and her complaints were replaced by a muffled sucking sound. Margot held the pacifier in with one finger, just to make sure Bridget didn't take it out, while Sami finished meticulously assembling and plating. the rest of the components of a toy burger. “Okay baby Bridget, time to eat up!” Sami offered Bridget the model-scale meal, as her little sister glared and pouted. Sami tried to get Bridget to take a few play bites of the plastic patty, but had little success. “Come on, Bridget, you gotta eat it, I'm your mommy and I said so!” Sami stamped her foot in annoyance, feeling in that moment the same irritation that bedeviled mothers everywhere. Though in fairness, most of them would probably have been aghast at the idea of feeding their child a hamburger that had spent quite so much time on the floor after failed flips. Margot thought for a moment, then presented the tomato with a side of airplane noises, dive bombing Bridget with the red fruit, only to turn away at the last second. Bridget gamely tried to grab the tomato out of the air, but had no success, much to the amusement of her two ersatz mommies. Seeing what fun Margot and Bridget were having with their little game, Sami went to try her hand with one of the buns, but before she could a call of “Girls! Cake time!” disrupted the game in favor of more important matters. Bridget spat out the binky and wiggled her way out of the poofy dress. She and her friend ran as fast as they could toward the stairs up to the kitchen. Once the pair were halfway up, however, they looked back and saw Sami struggling up the first stair behind them. Bridget grabbed Margot's hand, and they waited for Sami to slog slow way up the steps. Once the short blonde girl had finally caught up, the three of them headed eagerly toward the waiting confection. – Margot's normally sour expression was replaced for a fleeting moment by the ghost of a smile as she looked down at the toy pan. When she pressed its button, she found it had lost its sizzle; no doubt the battery had died in the decade since she'd used it last. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to just throw it away. Instead, Margot put it back carefully in the box where she found it. As she did, she was caught in a wave of nostalgia that she was infinitely grateful none of her friends were around to see. Margot fished through her pure and dug out her phone, scrolling until she reached the Bs. The sight of a familiar name and the ancient last called date brought her to her senses before she could do anything too embarrassing, though, and she swiftly put it away again. Maybe later, she thought to herself. Issue 2 Chapter 1: The Stalwart Six The rest of the school week went smoothly enough, and so that Friday Bridget made her way home, with Maya in tow. The tiny redhead was so excited that she bounced up and down in her seat for the entire bus ride. When Bridget opened the door, she was greeted, not by her mother or Sami as she expected, but by the meow of a black cat. It leapt from the banister on which it had been perched and began happily batting at the straps dangling down from Bridget's backpack. Maya jumped back in surprise, but once she realized what was in front of her, her reaction changed completely. “Ohmygosh Bridget, you didn't tell me you got a kitty! What a cutie she is!” The cat deigned to allow Maya to pet her, and purred with satisfaction as Maya reached behind its ears. “We didn't.” Bridget said shortly. “Shouldn't you be at a meeting or something?” she asked as she looked down at the feline interloper. <<How curious.>> Val observed <<We have encountered these creatures before, and they have shown no interest in any sort of meeting. The desire for attention is familiar though.>> “That's not a cat,” Bridget explained “It's just Sami's friend Isis using her transformation magic. See that white ankh mark in the fur on her forehead? That's how you can tell, no matter which form she's using, it's always on her somewhere” “Oh.” Maya said, a little crestfallen. “She's still really cute though!” Isis mewed with approval, and <<This is one of the people you wanted to entrust with our fight against the Warmistress? Such a small form may carry the advantage of stealth, but I doubt she will be of much use.>> Bridget had nothing to say to that, so she just did her best to shoo Isis away, hoping that she and Maya could get to their viewing party. Of course, regular cats don't take well to being commanded, and animals who are transformed magic-users are even less amenable to it. Isis simply lay down on the slate floor and glared at Bridget in supreme annoyance. Then after a long minute where Bridget's face got redder and redder as she realized Isis was deliberately teasing her, the cat stood up and brushed against Maya's leg. Then she turned around and marched off proudly, her tail waving lazily from side to side as she turned a corner and made her way toward the basement, walking with a stately slowness that said “Sure kiddo, I'll move when I'm good and ready to.” without the need for a human voice box. “She seemed nice” Maya said cheerfully. “That's just because she doesn't know you well enough to start teasing you.” Bridget explained. “Anyway, even if the Stalwart Six are meeting here today, the living room TV should be free.” She led Maya up the few stairs to the living room. But as the green paint and brown leather of the living room sofa came into view, Bridget's face fell. With a sudden pulse of irritation and dread, she realized she could hear the awful sound of her mom's favorite lifestyle program, “Moonlight's Meditations” wafting from within Bridget loathed Moonlight Meditations with every fiber of her being. The hippie hostess had an airy meandering demeanor that made Bridget feel like she was being dragged through molasses, and could drone on about chakras and astrological phenomena at such monotonous and self-satisfied length that public radio seemed bouncy and fast-paced by comparison. Bridget and Maya entered the room just as Moonlight was touting “the holistic benefits of this organic, all natural juice cleanse, with varieties designed to harmonize with your unique cosmic rhythm.” <<You can't harmonize with cosmic rhythms, the background radiation of the universe is fundamentally disordered and unpredictable!>> Val raged. There were a lot of things on which Bridget and her passenger didn't see eye-to-whatever-passed-for-eye, but she and Val were in complete agreement where Moonlight and her mystic drivel were concerned. Bridget opened her mouth to ask if they could use the TV, but knew before she even sad anything that it would be pointless to argue. There was no moving her mom during the hour Moonlight was on, no matter how many times she suggested her Mom just DVR it. She motioned to Maya, and they retreated, until they stood at the top of the basement stairs. “Well, I guess we have to ask them if we can have our watch party downstairs.” Bridget sighed, “This is going to be so embarrassing.” “Oh, come on, Bridget, it's not like they'll even care.” Maya tried to reassure her friend. “They probably have super important hero business to attend to.” “You mean we'd be interrupting important hero business to ask them whether we can use the TV,. of all things.” Bridget said dryly. Her cheeks growing pink as she imagined the blue-eyed stare of disapproval she'd get from Leanne, who would no doubt think of her as just a foolish child. <<Well, you are a child, and delaying something you've been looking forward to for days solely for fear that you'll look a bit silly would certainly qualify as foolish>> Val pointed out smugly, <<Besides, it's not like you have any other option>> Okay, fiiine. But when you want to recruit the Stalwart Six and they laugh in our face, don't come crying to me. Bridget thought back hotly. <<Oh, I won't. At any rate I lack tear ducts, so the whole idea seems a little far-fetched.>> You know perfectly well that was a figure of speech! <<Certainly. I also know that, for someone concerned about looking awkward, you've spent quite a bit of time standing around doing nothing and staring into space while we talk>> Finally realizing that arguing any further would just get her caught in a recursive loop of alien snark, Bridget sighed and opened the door. <<There! See, sweetie, was that so hard?>> Val's tone combined gentle chiding with a touch of praise in a way that made it impossible to answer. -but I remain concerned that focusing our efforts on a single frontal assault is a brittle strategy, and that the attack could fall apart quickly if something were to proceed unexpectedly. Leanne's voice carried from the floor below, as cool and even as ever. Bridget felt a tingle in her chest as its calm and surety washed over her. “Don't be such a worrywart, oh Fearless Leader. There's more than one of us who can bust down even a reinforced door with a demon or two behind it.” The second voice, as rough and casual as Leanne's was prim and professional, but with a playful warmth beneath, was definitely Isis. Only she would call Leanne by a glib nickname like that. Bridget and Maya crept quietly down the stairs, and both looked out to see the group of superheroines meeting below. Bridget was struck for a second by how casual the scene was. The team sat in a loose circle of assorted couches, beanbag chairs, and those soft chairs that were shaped a bit like bright, cushiony cups turned on their sides. All of them were in casual clothes, even Sami, who was for once wearing something other than her reddish-orange tights and white gloves and boots. That said, even in an otherwise muted pink floral print dress, Sami leaned forward over the center table with rigid intensity that would have been better suited to a war room. Her golden eyes aimed piercingly at a glowing blue projection hovering above a white device placed in the center of the table. The floating image was of a squat but broad brick building. The blue cast that the projector gave the image was broken at several points by angry red dots at the front and at several points on the roof. Several doors stood out against its walls, highlighted in bright yellow. A dark brown hand waved through the image, and it rippled a little before beginning to rotate slowly. The hand's owner returned to her seat in a dull brown beanbag chair, and as she did so, turned and as she id, Bridget saw the slightly doughy but genial face of the team's tactician, Overwatch. Overwatch ran her hand through her thick and unkempt brown hair, and tugged distractedly at her grey T-shirt. For a moment, the words printed in black on her shirt, “Lost in Thought, Send Search Party,” seemed particularly apt. “I mean, you're probably right, Isis. Even if it could withstand a tiger or a Odom dragon being hurled at it full force, I'm sure I could whip up a drone with some explosives that would do the job.” Her voice was cheerful and bouncy. “You just want an excuse to show off that new explosives certification, don't you, Gearhead? Isis interjected with a smirk. “I don't know, it sounds like Goldilocks here-” she nodded in Sami's direction, “-really wants to play meatshield.” Oh, that's fine too, absolutely! I think, in that case I might just hang back and pilot a few of my favorite friends from, um, a safe distance. I, well, I really don't want to end up like my car did the last time I fought Hellblooods in person. Overwatch's jovial manner faltered a little as she winced and grabbed reflexively at her shoulder. “Kendra, you did great, don't sell yourself short!” Bridget pursed her lips in annoyance as Stell, the team's fashionista, cheerleader, and materials specialist, spoke up, with a perky enthusiasm to her vocal fry that Bridget was sure had to be faked. Plus the white hair that sparkled like diamonds in its pixie cut was just way too much. “ I think it would be best if we all attacked together.” Stell suggested. “I could throw up more effective barriers and shooting stars, and Phoebe could enhance all of us more conveniently.” Suddenly, a sardonic scoff came from the corner of the room, in a patch of dim light where none of the basement's fluorescents reached. “Don't be ridiculous. That's playing right into their hands.” the voice continued. It had a low and husky monotone, as different from Stell's as night is from day. “What do you mean, Phoebe?” Stell asked, a little annoyed to have her idea so unceremoniously dismissed” “Look!” Phoebe commanded. Phoebe rose from her seat and moved toward the diagram. As she entered the light, Bridget finally got a good view of the last member of the Stalwart Six. Phoebe Lee, also known as the Banshee, had pale skin and straight black hair. Her almond eyes were framed in black liner, and both her long trenchcoat and the long dress beneath it were all black, except for a few flashes of silver from her earrings, belt, and the buttons of her coat, each of which was in the shape of a Celtic knot. Her lips, pursed into a frown, were done in purple. Phoebe pointed a black-painted finger at the diagram. “If we attack the front, they can fight us one at a time as we try to enter. And while we're wasting our effort attacking their strongest points, their sentries stationed here-” she pointed to the red markers that indicated the lookout points on the roof of the building “-can pick us off with ease. At the bare minimum, one of us who can fly needs to address that problem.” “I can do it!” Sami interjected enthusiastically. “They're just normals, so it won't take long, and I'll make sure no one else gets hurt.” “Idiot.” Phoebe spat at her, “Do you really think they won't expect us and prepare accordingly? They knew we were coming when we tried the stealthy approach last time, and it'll be even worse this time.” “Well, I don't hear you offering any ideas, snippy.” “Whether or not I offer any ideas doesn't change the fact that all of yours are terrible.” Phoebe scowled at Sami. “Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt your brooding sesh for the sake of actually getting something constructive done!” Sami's voice began to rise. “I am not-” Phoebe began. Only to be suddenly cut off. “Ladies.” Leanne said, not loudly, but sharp enough to cut through the burgeoning quarrel.”While I hate to interrupt what I'm sure would have been a wonderfully tedious argument,” Sami and Phoebe looked ashamed as the rebuke hit them, “we have a visitor. What can we do for you, Bridget?” Leanne turned and looked at Bridget and Maya, and the eyes of all five of the other team members followed her. Bridget's face went pink with embarrassment. She tried to think of a way to make her request that wouldn't make her look incredibly stupid, and as she did so, the silence stretched on painfully. “So, um, if you're not using the TV down here, can we use it to watch Pretty Magical Lyrical Angel Lala?” Maya cut in, breaking the silence. “You're kidding me, Bridget.” Sami said, annoyed. “We're having an important planning meeting and you want to interrupt us to watch your stupid cartoon?” “I don't see why not.” Leanne said, and Sami's protests lapsed into irritated grumbling under her breath. Kendra has her own mapping tools, so we don't need it. “But-” Sami began “Oh, Goldilocks,” Isis said, her voice laced with wry amusement. “Stop complaining about nothing and just let the kids have their fun, There's no need to twist your face up like your porridge is too hot. Let's get back to that important hero business, huh?” “Fine” Sami said grumpily, and eturned to her seat. “Excellent. Leanne said, Now let's move on to discussing our loadouts,” -- Issue 2 Chapter 2- Fangirls As the conversation continued, Bridget and Maya did their best to stay out of the way as they crossed into the back of the basement where the TV hung in an alcove. Bridget studiously avoided Sami's golden gaze, and was tremendously relieved when they were out of sight behind the alcove wall. In short order, though, Bridget had everything queued up, and with an excited squeal from Maya, the watch party began. Bridget usually just watched the show, but with Maya there the experience was profoundly different. She threw herself into it, singing along with the theme song and shouting the attack names along with the characters. And she was having none of Bridget's silence. “Bridget!” she complained, “Where's your joy? You gotta at least yell out the 'Angelic Proton Blaster!' I mean you do that with Lieutenant Lightning's catchphrase all the time. What is it again, 'Like a blue bolt, I strike injustice?' Bridget tried her best to shush Maya, but she had already gotten it out before a frantic shhhh could rush its way out of Bridget's lips, “What. Are. You. Doing?” Bridget hissed at her. “Leanne is right there! You can't just mess up her catch phrase right in front of her And you can't just tell her I do that sometimes, she'll think I'm some kind of weirdo!” Bridget strained to hear what the Stalwart Six were talking about, but their conversation aout strategies, tactics and supplies continued, with no indication they'd heard anything. Suddenly, Bridget felt Maya's arms around her middle, and the warmth of the smaller girl embracing her, “Bridget, it's okay. She thinks you're really smart, and won't think of you as a weirdo. “Oh, well, I guess, if you think so.” Bridget said awkwardly, not entirely convinced. “Definitely” Maya assured her, grabbing the remote to rewind to the point before conversation had interrupted their viewing. As on screen Princess Melody leaned in, her lips inching closer to Lyrical Angel Lala's, Maya rested her head on Bridget's, so that Bridget could feel her warmth of her cheek on her skin. Bridget looked down at Maya, and played a bit with her auburn ponytail as they both watched the unfolding scene. Suddenly, Prince Damien, with his shining white hair and in his trademark black military uniform, teleported into the frame, and lifted a strange green gem, which pulsed with an eerie green light, and in a flash, Princess Melody was caught in its facets. Bridget gasped and there was a sudden “WHAT! NO!” right in her ear as Maya shrieked in indignation at having her favorite pairing thwarted again, and the credits rolled. Maya's gentle became a tight squeeze as her ire mounted. “That's so duuumb. He didn't even have that stupid necklace in any of his other evil schemes!” “Wrong.” a droll voice said behind them. “The enchantress Discordia gave it to him in Episode 132 along with the materials for the Dark Cloud Curse he put on Tokyo. There was more information in the manga, but the studio cut that, of course.” Both of them turned around to see Phoebe leaned up against one of the basement pillars, sighing in annoyance at these children's lesser degree of commitment to her favorite show. “Wait wait-what?” Maya spluttered, I didn't know-” “You really should read the limited series about Discordia as well, it's invaluable to understanding the backstory of all the villains and more abut the magic system in Lala.” “Um, so, I guess I-” Maya spluttered, utterly unprepared for her expertise to be so quickly and so thoroughly dwarfed. “Wait, Phoebe, you like this show? I figured you'd hate because it's way too cutesy and childish.” Bridget asked, surprised. Phoebe grimaced. “It's, well, it's an important show to me, it helped me figure out that I...well...” she trailed off. “Anyway!” she said, changing the subject, “I thought I'd hang out here rather than argue with your sister and try to lead her to a better idea for making an entrance. Leanne's better qualified to leading our sparkling, shining neophytes to the obvious conclusion that maybe a window would make a better entry point than a trap-laden door.” Bridget couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah, I couldn't imagine anyone else actually able to get Sami to change her mind on anything.” “So, Phoebe, could you maybe hook a girl up with some of that good, good manga action?” Maya asked “Hmmm.” Phoebe said, tilting her head as she considered. “I suppose I could let you read through my collection. I'll give them to Sami, who can deliver them to either of you, I'm sure. I'm glad there are kids nowadays who understand what's really important.” Her black lips curled into a smile with a bit of hesitation, as though she'd forgotten how to form one after devoting herself to mastering the full spectrum of brooding frowns and grimaces for so long. “Yessssss!” Maya exclaimed, nearly leaping out of her seat with excitement. Bridget, why didn't you tell me your sister's friends were so awesome! we should totally read it together!” “Sure!” Bridget said, trying to seem cheerful, and eager though she was sure that any moment Val would jump in to shut down the idea. No doubt she would command that before Bridget could even think about read any manga, she'd have to get a much better grasp on how to use her gravitic flight powers. Bridget dreaded the idea of more hours of misery and disappointment in th pit of her stomach as she tried to lift herself into the air, only for her concentration to be broken by the stomach turning feeling of dangling in midair with nothing solid to support her. But, for once, no rebuke came. Bridget felt a wave of unease wash over her as Maya and Phoebe began an earnest concersation about the merits of various light novels, several Japan-only video game releases, and a cmpaining session about all the terrible translation mistakes to be found in the dub track for Lyrical Angel Lala. Val? Is everything okay? She thought in the internal direction from which Val's voice always seemed to come It wasn't like Val to stay silent for this long, and it couldn't possibly mean anything good. Bridget considered trying to use some of her new found powers, maybe to surreptitiously float herself a few millimeters above the couch, but there was the chance she'd get discovered. Sure, being found out would probably get a response from her passenger, but that was definitely not worth it. But maybe she could suggest something, Val might respond, at least. Bridget closed her eyes and tried to reach inside herself to the well of purple void where she and Val could meet, but her concentration was suddenly broken by a sharp rebuke from Phoebe. “Don't think I don't know what you're doing there.” Bridget gasped and nearly fell over in fear and surprise “I was just-” she began to explain, but she was interrupted by the soft thump of a familiar feline form leaping from the back of the sofa onto the floor in front of a very irked Phoebe. The cat changed form until Isis, her hair now streaked with bright ectoplasmic green in yet another one of her myriad displays of casual magical power, stood in the middle of Phoebe and Maya. She had her hands casually planted in her pockets and a slightly cross expression on her face. “Darn. I was sure I had you that time, Songbird.” Isis said ruefully. Phoebe grimaced at the nickname. “You're never going to 'get' me, you know.” she chided her teammate. “Even the most minute sound cannot escape the keen ears of the Banshee!” Bridet noticed that when Phoeve said her hero name, she put way more emphasis on the second syllable than most people did. She remembered that Phoebe also spelled it really weird, but had never asked, for fear of receiving an houlong lecture in response. “I dunno, that line needs a little tightening to work as a catchphrase.” Isis replied glibly, hand rested against her brown cheek in mock deliberation. “You always need to get the last word in, don't you?” Phoebe remarked dryly “Yep!” Isis responded with deliberately augmented bounciness. “Anyway, Phoebe, our fearless leader wants you for something.” “Oh. Did the two shiny ones finally figure out the basics of forced entry?” Phoebe asked. “It took a bit of persuading, but yes.” came Isis's reply. She switched forms again and perched herself imperiously on Phoebe's shoulder, as the grim-faced goth girl reluctantly carried her. As Maya watched surreptitiously from behind a pillar, and Bridget did her best to re-establish her concentration over to where the rest of the Stalwart Six were evidently taking a snack break, courtesy of Overwatch's remarkably capacious bag. It was labeled “Brain Food, but appeared to contain mostly chips and candy bars. “Ah, there you are.” Leanne said, looking up as the two heroines approached. “We have an important question to consider” She looked across the ring of chairs at Stell. “Hi there, you two!” Stell waved Phoebe and Isis over as Overwatch, mouth full of peanut butter cup, proffered snacks. “I wanted to ask you whether you wanted any alterations to your dress uniforms for the Gala. Phoebe stared at Leanne from beneath her purple-shadowed eyelids. “I thought you said you had an important question.” Phoebe said, arching an eyebrow. Isis simply began cleaning herself assiduously. “It is an important question!” Stell insisted. “So many influential people will be there!” “Exactly!” Sami chimed in, “It's critical that we make a good impression when we get awarded the key to the city” The mention of the award that Sami had been talking about for weeks brought an eyeroll from Bridget, and she motioned Maya to follow her upstairs/ Bridget figured that even if her mom was still watching more Moonlight, at least she wouldn't have to hear any more about the plans for the entire city to convene yet another celebration of the golden child. Mercifully, when the pair had snuck their way past the sextet of superheroines, Bridget's mom had left the living room, which meant that video games were back on the table. As Bridget and Maya plopped next to each other on the floor and caned their necks toward the TV, controllers in hand, Bridget heard a familiar voice. <<Are you having fun, with your friend, sweetie?>> Val said, clearly pleased about something. Yeah, it's been fine, but where were you? Bridget asked, I'm not used to going without your commentary. <<No need to worry. I've just been doing a bit of work while you've been playing with Maya and Phoebe. I thought you might enjoy a bit of privacy, but if you want me, I'm always here for you>> Bridget suddenly felt as though she was being patted on the head, though she wasn't sure if it was her imagination, or an image sent from Val. <<In any case, I have something to discuss with you, once you two are done>> Oh, heck no, Bridget though back If it was important enough that you were distracted from your usual peanut gallery routine, I want to at least know what it is now. <<Well, the thing that caught the attention I usually spend attempting to give you good advice was the Stalwart Six's little planning session. While you two were engaged in what was no doubt a critical discussion of fictional princesses, I was listening in on their strategies>> And? Bridget said, growing a little impatient with Val's drawing out the tension. <<And as a result, I have our first mission>> Val concluded with audible satisfaction <<We're raiding the Hellbloods>> Issue 2 Chapter 3- Time Together Bridget very nearly dropped the controller in surprise, and Maya's racer in the game they were playing zoomed ahead as Bridget's spun out. You can't be serious! Bridget exclaimed. It took every ounce of control she had to express the idea only mentally and not to shout it out in the middle of the living room. <<Oh, I am, sweetie.>> Val said coolly. <<We Voidwalkers possess no sense of humor that we know of>> Ha ha, very funny. Could you maybe explain to me why our first mission has to involve me fighting a small army of seven-foot-tall merciless thugs, each with biceps bigger around than my neck? Have you forgotten that they wounded Sami, and she's practically invincible? Her retort began snarkily, but as she thought more about it, fear rose in her like a tide, until all traces of sarcasm had vanished beneath the onrushing waves of terror. <<Certainly, little one.>> Val said sweetly, before switching quickly back to her usual didactic tone. <<I was listening to your sister and her friends, and from what they were saying, it sounds like the Hellbloods have become more physically terrifying only recently, and before, they were just 'normals,' as Sami put it. That sudden change has to come from somewhere, and just happens to track with the kinds of things we did to our hosts to prepare them as weapons of war against the star wardens. If we want evidence of what the voidwalkers are doing, the Hell blood safe house is the place to start >> Okay, that part makes sense, I guess. Bridget admitted, But still, I can't possibly fight that many, and they'll have guns! Bridget did her best to turn her attention back to the game, and before long, she found herself drifting in Maya's tailwind again. <<Well, they might have guns,>> Val conceded <<but they'll also have six other meta-humans to fight. We won't have a lot of time, but at least there'll be a window here you can sneak in, get to their command room and have a decent chance of getting what we need.>> But bullets! Bridget protested. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Val wasn't corporeal, and so couldn't quite grasp why a tiny bit of metal could be much of a threat, but Bridget didn't seem to be having much success in conveying the urgency of the problem. <<Calm down, sweetie,>> Val said gently. <<I know the idea is scary, but dealing with primitive projectile weapons is just basic physics. The gun exerts a force on the bullet, so all we need to do is create enough of one to force it to decelerate before impact. It'll be simple, I promise. But if it would make you feel better to practice deflecting small objects away from yourself, we can do that.>> <<Besides, even though they probably will look frightening as far as humans even can,>> Val continued, <<the actual human gangsters aren't much heavier than you, and it's cost us virtually no effort for me to levitate you and rock you to sleep every night>> Bridget's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as the image filled her head. But Val said it so matter-of-factly, and she had been sleeping better, with fewer dreams of purple lights, black-clad doctors , and cold steel operating tables. She started to protest, but she thought better of it. Her mind was still racing with worries and questions, but she tried to focus on the game, if only to keep Maya from realizing how distracted she was and demanding to be let in on the secret “Ha, nice try Bridget!” Maya exclaimed, as Bridget's racer pulled even with hers, but failed in its attempt to overtake her. Her normally cheery expression twisted into a grimace of effort as she side-swept Bridget into the guardrails. Sparks and smoke flew from Bridget's avatar and Maya defended her lead. Bridget took advantage of the lull in excitement as Maya successfully blocked her cursory attempts at passing to ask Val more questions. How are we even going to get in there though? Overwatch will have her drones patrolling the whole perimeter, if we try to enter, she'll definitely see us. <<We'll be getting there before the cordon is established. Besides, I paid close attention to the diagram. Leanne has very sensibly left their opponents one pathway that seems like it's intended to look like an avenue of escape once the front gets cut off. We'll just go in through that upper floor window before then. It's not the direction of travel they'll be expecting, so it shouldn't raise too much suspicion on either side.>> Bridget started to argue that the plan would require her to fly, which seemed very unlikely based on how terribly she'd done in handling that skill so far. But her thought was interrupted by the blaring sound of victory horns as Maya crossed the finish line to a shower of digital cheers and confetti. Maya herself lat out a victorious shout and punched the air with her fist, grinning widely. Bridget let her controller fall into her lap and sighed in exasperation. How on earth can you think this will be so easy? Bridget asked, perplexed by Val's continued calm. <<Oh, I have no illusions on that score. It will still be incredibly dangerous, and could very easily turn deadly.>> Val said clinically. But I never expected any of this to be easy. We're outnumbered, and our enemy is merciless, and has total technological superiority. If we can't get through a few of modified thugs, we have no chance of opposing Warmistress Sonata, and should flee into deep space as fast as possible.>> Bridget fell silent for a moment. It had been easy, buoyed by the story Val hd told, to want to follow Sami's example and run headlong into danger, confident that her alien superpowers would be able to handle whatever foe she faced. But it was quite another to try to infiltrate a den of superhuman gangsters in the middle of a firefight, with only Val to help her and none of her sister's trademark invulnerability. She could suddenly clearly see herself alternately being ripped apart by hideous demonic claws, or bleeding out on cold hard concrete as the chaos and destruction of a superhuman battle raged around her. It suddenly seemed absurd that she could even think bout doing something so dangerous; after all, she'd first used her powers about a week ago, and hadn't had any combat training to speak of. She couldn't imagine that a Hellblood would be terribly frightened by the prospect of being bonked on the head by a baby building block. As more and more terrifying scenarios began to fill her head, her breath grew short, and her eyes began to dart around, seeking any reassurance that she could even hope to survive what she was thinking of doing. “Hey, Bridget, what do you want to play next?” Maya asked, not noticing Bridget's rising fear. As she interrupted Bridget's contemplation her own doom, Bridget couldn't help but jump a little in her seat. “I mean, I'll probably beat you whatever, it is,” she boasted, adopting a faux posh British accent as though she were a noble lady discussing choices of weapon for dueling, “but I'll let you choose. the manner of your defeat.” “Oh, um,” Bridget said haltingly, caught between a desire to run to her room and not wanting to leave Maya's comforting presence for the loneliness of her own thoughts. “Could we maybe play something more cooperative? I'm not feeling up to challenging your might today.” “Sure! Maya agreed happily. “Ooooh! I got a region-free version of Beautiful Extreme Nebula Warrior Combat, we definitely need to try! Oh, by the way, can I leave this at your house, my parents would blow a gasket if they knew I had it.” “Yeah sure, no problem,” Bridget assented without much thought. It certainly wasn't the first time she'd helped Maya hide things her parents wouldn't approve of. They started playing, but as all the instructions, menus, and commands were in Japanese, Bridget pretty much just followed Maya's lead, which suited her just fine. Besides, Maya was having so much fun with the thing that just watching her bounce up and down in excitement with each successfully executed special move was a treat in itself, and for a while, Bridget forgot her fear. It was hard to think about formless terrors from the void when presented with the game's much more whimsical vision of space conflict, complete with buxom-blue-skinned aliens, spacefaring samurai, and cyborg cowboys with laser six-shooters. Val even ditched her usual acerbic commentary in favor of images of Bridget in the role of each of the absurd protagonists in turn, but always with a slight twist. Bridget was pretty sure for instance that even in as absurd a game as this was, there was no unlockable costume that would have given the space cowgirl a pastel purple hat with a pink heart on it, or added lacy frills to her poncho. Hours passed this way, and by the time Maya tired of anime space battles, midnight was fast approaching. Bridget's head nodded a little. Maya looked over at Bridget, and a flash of sudden realization crossed her face, and her eyes darted from her friend, resting her tired head on the arm of the couch to the harsh white glow of the screen. Her face fell, and she looked down at her lap glumly, her previous joy suddenly . “Aaaah! Crap, crap, crap, I'm so sorry, Bridget, I was so wrapped up in what I was doing, I didn't even think about whether you would get tired or bored or....” she sighed dejectedly, and averted her eyes. “...Sorry I'm such a weirdo, getting so into everything that I make the people around me miserable” Maya's breath came in small quavering bursts as she looked miserably back up at Bridget Bridget was taken aback by the sudden change in her friend. She'd known Maya long enough to get the occasional glimpse beneath the eternally sunny mask Maya always wore. But she couldn't bear the thought of her friend being miserable like this, and with how suddenly Maya's whole demeanor had changed, it was like she too knew that something was wrong, that this time was somehow different than all the other time they'd spent together. And, the thought felt fuzzy and vague as it took shape in her head but suddenly sharpened to a cod and crystalline clarity, this could be the last time I ever see her. <<Bridget...>> Val began, but Bridget didn't wait for her to finish, didn't know or care whether she planned to console or criticize. She felt a white hot urgency burn in her chest, and the words tumbled out of her. “Maya, please, she said, pulling her friend into a warm embrace, partly to console her, and partly for the sheer, immediate feeling of her physical presence. “Never apologize for being you, okay? You're my friend, and I like all of you, all the nerdy, silly, fun parts of you. And it's okay to be sad sometimes. I want to be there for you when you're down, not just be another person you have to please. You don't need to be perfect, you're already wonderful” Maya sniffled a little and held onto her more tightly, and Bridget was suddenly struck by how small her friend was, and how easily and comfortably she fit within Bridget's embrace. The two of them just sat together that way for a while, just enjoying the physical closeness. “I feel like such a dork.” Maya mumbled ino Bridget's chest after a while. “I spend so much time trying to make sure you know you're not weird, and then I turn around and do the same thing to myself. “It's fine, it happens like that sometimes!” Bridget assured her, with another squeeze. “But if it's okay, I think I'd like t get ready for bed,, it's late, and I've fought enough space battles and lost enough races for today.” “Okay!” Maya agreed, traces of her cheerful disposition returning as a small smile spread across her face. Bridget and Maya ducked into separate bathrooms to change. <<That was good of you, little one. It's all too rare for one creature to support another. But maybe that's just having a swirling cocktail of chemicals pumping through you does. Now if only we could get you to follow your own advice on occasion, or at least the advice of those substantially wiser than you.>> Yeah, well, you just keep hoping for that, Bridget thought back wryly I just couldn't think of myself as any kind of heroine if I didn't try to help my friend feel better. At least its easier than what you want me to do. <<Well,>> Val said thoughtfully. <<I was always terrible at that with Echo, and to me, dealing with a few score overgrown chimpanzees is easy as basking in sunlight.>> Yeah, but you're a weirdo. '' <<And proudly so>> By the time she re-emerged, pajama-clad, to set up the pull out couches for herself and Maya, Bridget's apprehension about her first mission had shrunk from an all-consuming maw of terror to a small, stubborn, but manageable feeling resting in her stomach. It was something she could push to the back of her mind for a little while, as she and Maya cuddled in the soft and quiet dark. Neither of them had voiced the suggestion, or even consciously worked toward it, but it felt nice to be close to one another, and that was enough. Issue 2 Chapter 4- Time to Go The next morning passed much as the previous night had. Maya's presence made the day fun, even in the groggy haze of the morning after a successful sleepover. But as soon as Maya hugged her goodbye, and Bridget watched her disappear into her mom's blue minivan, the fact of the upcoming mission hit her. It was like she'd swallowed an anvil that was now weighing her down so much that it was a wonder she didn't just fall straight through the earth and pop out in Australia somewhere. Her mother, with her usual unmatched mastery of timing, had just the words for the occasion. “Bridget, your father and I are going to that picnic I told you about yesterday. Be sure to have your homework done by the time we get back tonight.” she the words casually, but thy were unmistakably an order. Oh, and don't bother your sister, she's got a very important project to prepare for.” Her mother turned her attention back to the tupperware and plastic bags she'd been filling with picnic supplies. “Wait, what? Bridet turned, surprised”You never mentioned anything about that! And why can't I just do it all tomorrow? It's not like there's a need to rush.” “Really, Bridget!,” her mother exclaimed, huffing indignantly “I don't understand why you insist on procrastinating, you certainly don't get that from me! When I was your age I always made sure to do all of my assignments first thing, it made scheduling just so much simpler. Honestly, when I heard from Sami that you and Maya had enough free time to interrupt her project meeting, I'd hoped that you'd at least had the decency to finish your schoolwork first.” “Oh, well I'm sorry I'm such a disappointment to your illustrious legacy!” Bridget shot back. “Spare me the drama, Bridget,” her mother replied. I”t's not as if I ask all that much from you. Would you rather deal with your father? Because I can go get him.” she finished sharply, letting the threat hang in the air. In Bridget's fearful, tired angry state, it almost seemed like it would be worth it to say “Yes” and thereby call down punishment on her own head, just so she could deny her mother the satisfaction of watching her give up. But somehow, she managed to hold back everything except a growl of exasperation, and let the heavy assault of her footfalls on the wooden stairs express her indignation instead. As she passed by Sami's door, she thought for a brief, wild moment of using her power to burst down the door and pelt her quisling sister with a hail of impromptu projectiles. It wouldn't hurt her, after all, and it would be so very satisfying. She raised a hand. <<No, Bridget,>> Val admonished,, though Bridget could hear the smirk behind << Now isn't the time. For now, just enjoy the fact that she'll be an unwitting pawn in our plan. Besides, this way, she's likely to be hit with a substantially higher caliber of ammunition, and you won't be punished for it in a way that would keep us from our mission.>> “...Fine.” Bridget hissed under her breath, lowering her hand, and taking the last few furious strides into her room, closing the door with a tremendous slam behind her. -- Bridget spent the next few hours sullenly burying her head in her books and finishing up her homework. Val offered to help, but since Val had minimal cultural context for the symbolism embedded in The Hollow Men, her ability to help was limited. Aside from that, the work made a welcome distraction for Bridget from thinking about she had to do later that night. It was also the only time she could ever remember essay writing going quickly; the hours seemed to meld into one another, and before long, the brightness of the setting sun shining through her window stung her eyes as she looked up from writing her final sentence. She could hear Sami bustling about in her room, no doubt getting ready for the mission next morning. There was a quiet rumble that told Bridget her parents had returned home, but the idea of having to listen to them prattle on for hours about all the other parents at the picnic, and hear lists of all the things those perfect other children had achieved brought a grimace of disgust to Bridget's face. But in short order, it became apparent that Bridget wouldn't get a choice. The telltale clomps of heavy footfalls on the stairs told her she was getting a visitor, whether she liked it or nor. Her father only walked with that particular purposeful gait when he had parenting to do. Sure enough, a few seconds later, there was a polite but insistent knock on her door. “Bridget, honey, we're home!” came her her father's voice, slightly muffled as it passed through the wooden door. Bridget rose to her feet, walked to the door and opened it a crack, hoping that her father might be satisfied with a brief conversation and leave her be without further intrusion. The familiar sight of her father greeted her as she peeked her head through. He was short and the pudge of his belly was visible beneath a bright red polo. He idly adjusted his thick, black-rimmed glasses , and ran his hand through what remained of his greying hair. “What is it?” Bridget asked, a trace of annoyance creeping into her voice. “Oh, your mom just wanted me to check on you and see how the homework is going. We missed you at the picnic today, but hey, studying's important, right?” “Yeah. It's been fine.” Bridget replied noncommittally. “I'm a little tired out from the sleepover, so I'll probably just finish up and then go to bed.” Her father's face fell a little. “Sure. I can tell you about the new particle collider we got in tomorrow. It's so tiny!” he said excitedly. “It'll be wonderful for our experiments!” Val sighed in annoyance. <<Your father is a passable scientist, considering his primitive surroundings, but he utterly lacks any sort of presence. How is anyone supposed to consider him a font of glorious and terrible knowledge, if he persists in being so jovial?>> Well, I'm pretty sure none of our universities require their physics doctoral candidates to learn to project a looming, ominous presence. <<Human priorities are so strange, how can you possibly->> Val suddenly stopped short. <<Bridget, why does he have that?>> Bridget looked at what her dad had slung over his shoulder and gasped. It was unmistakably a black lab coat, the same kind she'd last seen draped over the shadows of her captors beneath a blinding purple light. She took an involuntary step back. “Dad...where did you get that coat?” she asked, nearly stumbling over the words “Oh, this?” her father asked nonchalantly. Pretty cool, isn't it? They gave these out to the employees at the picnic. Apparently, one of our sponsors has access to some villain surplus. Don't worry though, I won't be doing anything nefarious. I'm really proud of your sister, but I don't want to meet her while she's working!” He chuckled at his own joke, oblivious to the pall that had fallen over his daughter's face. “Anyway, I'm off to help your mom with dinner. I'll let her know not to expect you though.” “Great, thanks,” Bridget replied, before shutting the door as quickly as she could without being rude. After a moment, Val spoke up. <<Well, I suppose that will also warrant investigation>> Sure, whatever. Bridget said, I'm going to play some video games, you can think about it all you want. <<I will. Val replied evenly. But I also expect you ready for bed soon, little one. We have a big day tomorrow>> What are you talking about? Bridget asked, surprised and annoyed by this new part of the plan. I know you're having fun treating me like a kid, but seriously, it's not even dark yet. <<Well, little miss, regardless of the relative position of the local star, we have a task to perform. The only way we'll beat Overwatch's drone cordon is to get there first, and since someone refuses to fly...>> I'm sorry, I just can't! Bridget protested, Every time I try it feels like I'm going to fall and that wrecks my concentration! <<Yes, but unfortunately, we don't have to acclimatize you to the sensation. Therefore, our only option is for you to take your bike there, which means we'll have to leave by two in the morning to be assured of arriving in time. So you need to get to bed now, little one. Starting something like this weighed down by drowsiness is a recipe for disaster. Once you're done pouting about it, and start thinking logically, you'll see that I'm right>> I am not pouting! Bridget huffed, her mouth settling into a distinctly childish frown of indignation as she plopped down on her dark blue bedsheets. <<Clearly not.>> Val said dryly. Sleep came quickly despite the early hour, but it was anything but restful. Bridget once again found herself beneath the awful purple light as the alien machinery hummed around her. But this time all of the black-clad shadows had her father's face, each one bearing an identical sadistic grin as they fiddled with strange devices. As they chuckled darkly, her world was swallowed by metallic chill and searing pain. The blood in her veins pulsed purple, and she screamed. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, she heard Val's familiar voice in her mind. <<Sorry I couldn't rock you like usual, sweetie. I wanted to save our strength, just in case. But it's time to get up and go>> For a split second, the cold and pain were gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of the purple void. Then Bridget blinked, and her eyes opened to the pale glow of the stars that dotted her bedroom ceiling. Bridget dragged herself up, despite her body's screaming protest. She groggily stuck her arms into the blue windbreaker she pulled from her closet, and slipped her sneakers on. Thankfully, Sami's room was empty, and her mother's snoring was loud enough to cover any noise she made getting to the staircase from her room at the end of the hall. Still, just to be extra sure, she took the stairs slowly, and jumped the top one that always creaked extra loudly. She had always found the kitchen a little creepy late at night, lit only by the pale green glow of a digital clock in the middle of the counter. But she silenced the twinge of unease that fluttered down her spine, and made her way to the garage. She risked flicking on the light so that she could find her bike and helmet, but was at a loss for how best to open the garage door without the loud grinding of the motorized pulley giving her away. Then, she took a deep breath to steady herself, and concentrated for a moment, lifting the garage door slowly and silently with Val's help, until she could duck her head under and roll her bike through. As she did so, the sudden bite of the cold wind outside whipping into her face, nearly broke her concentration, but she was able to hold it long enough to prevent the door crashing to the ground. Bridget mounted her bike, and started out of the driveway toward the other side of town. The night was foggy and moonless, and the small light she'd attached to her handlebars felt as useless as if she were relying on a single firefly in a jar to light her way. Fortunately the lack of illumination didn't seem to trouble Val, who served ably as a navigator. As Bridget rode, the fog wrapped itself around her, and its chill raised goosebumps, even under her windbreaker. Gritting her teeth to stop them chattering, Bridget increased her pace, panting slightly with effort at each uphill climb and breathing a sigh of relief at every downward slope, as the road snaked along like a slumbering serpent, its asphalt scales illuminated in the dim glow of the streetlights. She ought to have been glad that no one was out at this hour to see her, but the profound loneliness of the completely empty road was unsettling. She passed through the center of town, beneath the light of signs that hovered over darkened storefronts. It felt like she was the only living person for miles, winding her way through the skeleton of a town that had been suddenly and completely deserted. Bright saw fluorescent light from within the local 24-hour pharmacy, but it brought her no comfort, only the bitter thought of how warm and dry it must be inside. But, as Val insistently pointed out, her route didn't lead that way. She turned a sharp right away from its bright lights, like a predator wary of the unnatural light of human civilization. After twenty more minutes of winding her way though dark back streets, and avoiding or speeding past the few houses and buildings that had light inside, she could tell she was getting closer, and fear gnawed at the pit of her stomach. The scenery began to shift, the signs were spread more thinly now, and they were all sharp, flickering neon. The squat, square shadows of houses, their windows boarded and barred, loomed up on either side of her. Bridget sped up, as though she could outrun the hostile, unfamiliar landscape. She veered right as Val directed, and suddenly heard the grind of gravel under thin rubber tires. Bridget stopped for a moment to regain her balance and get her bearings, breathing hard and feeling the cold trickle of sweat down the back of her neck. <<We're almost there.>> Val said, her voice filled with a calm Bridget could only envy. <<There's a side road down this path that leads to the industrial park that the Hellbloods are using as a base. You can stash the bike here, There are enough structures about to offer cover as we approach, but Leanne expected the terrain would be difficult, so I think it's best we walk from here>> “Okay” Bridget whispered back through chapped lips as she dismounted and extinguished her light. She walked in a small, halting circle, trying to stretch the stiffness and fatigue out of her legs. Once she felt as recovered as she could be, she set off down the path. A few trees occluded the industrial park from view, so there was no sight to distract from the sounds of the night; the skitter of some small animal among the branches, and the plodding crunch of gravel as she walked on, clutching her coat close to her in a vain attempt to ward of the chill that had by now crept its way deep into her bones. A patch of artificial light reflecting off a shallow, stagnant puddle signaled the end of the gravel path, and the beginning of a concrete sidewalk, though the walkway itself seemed barely worthy of the title. There were great sections of concrete that looked like they'd been torn up, exposing the dirt beneath. What concrete remained was riven with cracks, and covered with loose pebbles that made entirely too much sound for Bridget's comfort as they skittered across the ground with her passing. She rounded a corner, and got her first good view of the industrial park, in all its dilapidated glory. From where she stood at the south of the park, she could see a few small steel sheds, and the shadows of large industrial vehicles, all inert, but still imposing. Further north, there were giant cylindrical tanks that looked to be made of some kind of steel, as they caught a glint of light from a few scattered lamps that flickered in the distance. They were connected to one another by huge pipes, each rent and broken as though great claws had ripped through them. Hills of white and brown masonry were scattered haphazardly across the landscape. But Bridget's eye was immediately drawn to the building in the center of everything, a low squat structure of bricks and metal siding that might have once been an office of some sort. Now though, its small, square windows were lit with a ghostly blue light that flickered and cast twisted shadows on the ground beneath. It looked like a monster itself, squat and broad and terrible, surveying its broken kingdom with inhuman eyes. Bridget might have imagined it, but she thought that she could see the shadows of hulking figures against the unearthly glow within. Bridget struggled to take in everything, and for a moment she just stood there, unsure if she really had the grit to go forward. <<Don't worry, little one. I know it's scary, but I'm here, and I'll keep us safe.>> Val's voice was gentle, but carried a quiet, unquestionable confidence that melted her fear away The familiar warmth surrounded Bridget, and the chill of night and fog vanished. Bridget waved her hand, and the detritus that littered the ground skittered out of her path, leaving it clear and even. Slowly, at first, but picking up speed as her resolve stiffened, Bridget moved from shadow to shadow, drawing ever closer to the looming lair. Issue 2 Chapter 5 A Den of Vipers Bridget soon found the hiding spot Val had expected, a corner of the building that was hidden from outside view by another wing, with no first-floor window for the occupants to see her. She hid there, bringing forth just enough of her power to keep her warm as the night wore on. From where she concealed herself, she could hear occasional raucous outbursts from above. It seemed like the Hellbloods wee playing some sort of game, though thinking about what sort of game people like that would play to pass the time gave her chills that had nothing to do with the weather. After another half hour of mulling over the possible horrors awaiting her, her attention was suddenly caught by the silhouette of a drone floating low to the ground, and her ears picked up the faint hum of its propeller. Well, looks like the Stalwart Six are here, Bridget thought to herself. <<Hm. They're a little early, but no matter. Now all we need to do is wait for them to atttract->> The night was suddenly lit by a flash of white light, followed a split-second later by a massive boom and the sound of shattering glass. <<-attention>> Val finished. <<Well then.>> Bridget looked up at the windowsill above her, with a distinct sinking feeling. She took a breath to steady herself, closed her eyes, and focused on lifting herself up off the ground toward the window. As her feet left the earth and she gradually floated up, she clenched her teeth and did her best to hold her concentration even though it felt like her stomach was going to drop down through her feet. Then, suddenly, the air was filled with a bestial scream, a hissing shriek that coursed through Bridget's entire body, and shattered her focus. Her eyes snapped open in instinctive terror, and she felt the force that had been holding her aloft evaporate. Bridget cried out, and her arms flailed wildly as she began to fall. Fortunately, she'd managed to get high enough that her hands found purchase on the ledge of the second story window. She held on for dear life, knuckles white and the muscles of her fingers in searing agony. <<Almost there, sweetie. Just hold on a little bit longer, and you can make it.>> Bridget grunted with the effort, but managed to use her gravity powers to get herself a better grip, supporting herself with her hands and elbows as she peeked in the window. One of the Hellbloods, a massive man whose muscles bulged beneath his white shirt, and whose arms were covered in strange symbols that looked like they had been carved with inexpert enthusiasm into his skin with a dull knife, turned toward the door at the other end of the room from where Bridget was perched. “Let's get going. The tights are here.” he growled, pointing at the doorway and hoisting a massive rifle as easily as if it were a plastic toy. “Wait!” said a second Hellblood, tall, thin and wiry, with a greasy mop of black hair. His voice was higher, but a little uncertain in questioning the first man, who seemed to be his superior. “I heard something from over there. He motioned toward the window where Bridget hung “Feh, it's nothing, Ian, probably just the fuzz getting acquainted with our scaly monster,” the first man replied with a chuckle. But Ian had already turned to see Bridget, whose eyes widened with dear as she realized she'd been discovered. Without thinking she summoned a burst of power that pulsed through her in a wave of warmth. The force that she created sent the window panes and its frame hurtling through the air at Ian, who barely raised his arm in time to shield his face from the flying glass and wood. He let out a cry of pain and reared back as shards and splinters rammed their way into his arms. <<You see, Bridget,>> Val said triumphantly. <<They're only human, with all the usual frailty that entails.>> Sure Val. Maybe save the celebration for a little later, like once there aren't two more of them to deal with. Bridget thought back. Bridget seized the moment of surprise to float her way through what remained of the window, landing on the floor within. She risked a quick glance around at the room as she rose to her feet. It was dim and dirty, with trash piled up in heaps in the corners and walls that might at one point have been a spotless corporate white now discolored with yellowish splotches and black burn marks. A trio of crates had been pushed around a small card table, which was covered with cards, dice and plastic poker chips. A third Hellblood who she hadn't been able to see from the window stood up quickly and grabbed one of the crates with both hands. He lifted it to his shoulders, grunting with the effort, then hoisted it over his head. With a shout of fury, he sent it hurtling in her direction. As it flew through the air toward her, Bridget suddenly registered the sheer size of the thing. She'd be lucky to survive the impact, let alone being hurled against the wall and crushed once it transferred its tremendous momentum to her. Suddenly the image of the crate heading toward her was replaced by a ludicrously-inflated version of one of her practice blocks, with its cartoon alligator and an “A” in giant, goofy lettering on the side. Instinct took over as she raised a hand, and felt the familiar power surging though her. The crate slowed, finally stopping just before it hit her face, and hovering there for a moment as though unsure which way it ought to go. Then, it reversed course, picking up speed as it sped back in the direction from which it came. The Hellblood who threw it stood frozen in slack-jawed surprise as his own weapon hit him square in the chest with a thump that shook the whole room. Bridget had been right in her estimate of its destructive power; the man slammed against the wall, which cracked under the strain, and slid to the floor with a grunt. Ian let out an expletive as he watched his comrade fall, and Bridget pumped her fist in victory. Did you see that? She asked Val. We're freaking amazing! Val simply smiled her usual knowing smile and Bridget felt the warmth of a hand running through her hair, tousling it in playful congratulation. “Hold it right there, girl.” Bridget turned to look at the source of the shouted command, and her blood froze. The first Hellblood had used the distraction provided by his unfortunate compatriot to train his gun directly on her. He took advantage of her surprise to advance a few paces, still out of arm's reach, but close enough that he could look down at the top of her head as he towered over her. “That telekinesis you've got is a nice trick.” His voice was low and gruff. “But,” he continued, turning an eye to the rife he held in his hands, “this baby can fire ten rounds in a second, and turn you to Swiss cheese faster than you can blink. Oh, and before you get any funny ideas, I've got a grip on it tighter than a bear trap. Now, I'd really prefer not to kill a kid, even one of those obnoxious twerps who are ways tagging along with the capes, so I'd suggest you surrender. We'll hold you here until it's over, and then we'll see what Darius wants to do with you” Visions flashed through Bridget's head of the fate that awaited her should she accept this offer. She remembered the cold of the surgical table, and the total, utter helplessness she'd felt in that alien and twisted lab. No doubt it would be worse this time, the Hellbloods would probably not find her much of a test subject, and if they did, she probably wouldn't survive it. Bridget looked around frantically for something to hide behind, but the man was too close. There was nothing she could do. She could feel the heat of tears starting in her eyes. She had been so, so stupid. And now she was back exactly where she'd started all those months ago. Her best hope would be that Sami would find her and save her, or at least-she felt a lumo in her throat as she swallowed- the Stalwart Six might find her corpse “Well?” the Hellblood demanded imperiously. “Don't test my patience.” “Come on, T, she killed Eddie! Put a bullet in her and let's be done.” Ian whined. still cradling his arm. “Shut up, Ian,” T replied, “Eddie will be fine, she just knocked him out You've seen the power of those artifacts Darius got us, he'll be good as new tomorrow.” <<So what do you say, little one? Shall we show this fool the gravity of the error he's made? And then we'll see about those 'artifacts'>> How are we supposed to do that? Bridget shrieked frantically at her head-mate, He's going to shoot us, and then we'll be dead and...and... <<Bridget>> Val interrupted <<He is a mere human. The only way he is going to shoot you is by using a pathetic primitive device. One that is very much still subject to our power>> “I-I think...” Bridget started, her nerves tripping her up as she got the words out. “You see, Ian, she can be reasonable. We'll get a captive, she'll get to live, and everything will be fi-.” T was interrupted by a sharp metallic groan, and a look of horror dawned on his face as he saw that his rifle had crumpled in on itself like a cheap soda can. “I think.” Bridget said again, more confident this time. “That you underestimate the gravity of your position.” << That's my girl!>> Val said proudly. <<I'll even let you stealing my material slide, just this once.>> It was phrased as a rebuke, but the mirth in her voice was obvious, and Bridget couldn't help but smile. “You little-” T seethed. “Come on Ian, let's bash the brat's face in!” He lunged forward, thrusting the butt of his rifle down to crack Bridget's skull. But destroying T's weapon gave Bridget a burst of confidence, and as he swung his weapon at her, she held her ground, and shoved a wave of her power at him. He jerked suddenly like a puppet on strings. With a shout of surprise, he was flung out the newly broken window, and fell to the earth below with a loud thump. Satisfied that her would-be attacker had been dealt with, Bridget turned to look at Ian, who let out a nervous shriek and scrambled back a few paces. Bridget couldn't help but laugh at the image of the formerly fierce gangster cowering at her approach. She slowly advanced on him as he backed into a corner, trying to keep distance between himself and her, and looking desperately at a weapon rack on the other side of the room, too far away to reach. Bridget raised her hand. And was nearly knocked off balance by a great bellow from outside, as the Hellblood she'd just defenestrated leapt more than ten feet into the air and back through the window, face contorted with rage. T landed heavily on the floor and ran at her, all thoughts of strategy consumed by his fury. Ian took advantage of the distraction to crawl his way to the weapon rack, no doubt hoping to shoot Bridget once the bigger man had smashed her to the ground. But T's forward momentum suddenly stopped mere inches from Bridget. He swung his arms desperately for a moment, hoping to catch her with a punch but instead caught the full force of Ian sailing through the air. Once again, Bridget sent them hurtling out the window. But this time she was more careful. Her head pounded with the effort of keeping them both aloft, but she moved the two men, screaming and flailing into one of the giant metal container towers that dotted the landscape. The metallic clang of their impact onto the steel of the container filled the air, and as Bridget panted, she watched one of Overwatch's drones suddenly veer from its path to investigate the noise. There was a flitting sound as the drone loosed a flurry of dart-like projectiles from its underbelly, and this time, there were no superhuman leaps from the impromptu holding cell. Bridget walked to one of the recently-vacated crates and sat down for a moment to catch her breath. As he did so, she was careful to scoot herself into the corner of the room to keep out of the drone's line of sight. After a minute or so, the fatigue of her exertion began to fade, and she could finally savor her victory, at least for the moment. It really was just like the blocks, Val! I can't believe it! Bridget thought, elated <<You've done well, sweetie, but we're not quite done yet. We still need to find the enhancement devices, and figure out how these fools are getting hold of them, if we can. I'll guide you to the place where I expect that information to be, but we must hurry.>> All right, all right, let's go then. You're sure you feed off energy and not joy? Bridget replied, reluctantly rising to her feet and heading for the door. <<Joy is for the victorious.>> Val chided <<When our enemies lie at our feet and our objective has been achieved, then there will be time for joy>> The hallway was strangely silent, save for the sound of Bridget's sneakers on the old, discolored, and stain-ridden carpet. The rooms on either side of the hall looked like they might once have been impressive conference rooms, but had since been re-purposed for vastly different ends. The chairs had been removed to make room for strange instruments, and the central table had been converted to an altar traced with eerie runes. There were TVs mounted in the walls of each room, but their screens were all dark; the only illumination was from a brace of black candles that gave off a flickering blue light. Bridget could see that the floor was crisscrossed by lines of a dark substance that she really hoped was ink, but a tang of iron in the air suggested it was something much worse. Bridget stood staring for a moment, despite Val's urging her to move on. She was no mage, and had no idea what any of this stuff did, but all of it was obviously bad news. The shadows on the wall twisted and writhed unnaturally, and the room was suffused with a high-pitched whine that made her head hurt and set her teeth on edge. She looked down at the floor again, and remembered a lecture Isis had given her sister and Stell on how best to deal with magic-using opponents. Sami, of course, had assumed that the best strategy was to get through all the physically powerful opponents and sucker-punch the sorcerer. Her theory was that that even the subtlest wizard would find it difficult to weave their most terrible enchantments if they had been body-slammed into a wall. But Isis had been adamant that she take time to disrupt an opponent's magical workings, because while mages could prepare against a physically superior foe, magic was very precise. Even the slightest disruptions made things substantially more difficult for them in the critical moments of a battle. It had taken being pinned to the wall by Isis's magic, completely unable to move, let alone throw a punch or shoot energy blasts, but eventually Sami had gotten the message. She'd understood why, if the Stalwart Six ever fought a sorcerous opponent, it was imperative that the first thing she do was disrupt any magical circles or diagrams, then get to the punching and lasers. Bridget was a quicker study, and, she thought to herself with satisfaction, much less stubborn and more practically-minded <<Keep telling yourself that, little one.>> Instead of dignifying Val's snark with a response, Bridget walked hesitantly toward the strange lines of the diagram in the ground. Then, gritting her teeth, she darted forward, and scuffed the blackish red substance with her foot. As she did so, she heard a sharp, hateful hiss right next to her ear. She jerked back, looking around for the source of the sound, but found nothing, just a stack of folders and stationary with the upside-down triangle of the Janusoft logo on them. They were filled with scrawled notes that were illegible in the low light. Should we take these? Bridget asked. I guess they could have something useful in them. <<I don't think so. The Voidwalkers wouldn't bother concealing their involvement with this sort of primitive mumbo-jumbo. Besides, if there were something truly important, it would be guarded by more than that trio of fools we disposed of earlier. We should just move along,>> Val continued, with rising impatience evident in her voice <<We have only so much time before the Stalwart Six make it through the Hellbloods' defenses and we have to flee.>> Sure. Bridget agreed. Just let me scuff these magic circles, and we can go. <<I'm certain that our power is enough to withstand any spell, but if you must, do it quickly!>> Another hissing shriek and the sudden report of gunfire underscored Val's point, and Bridget hurried as quickly as she could. Fortunately, there was no one to be found on the rest of the second floor, and she made her way to the stairs down, still marked by a glowing green halogen sign. As she stopped for a moment on the last landing before the ground floor, she caught a glimpse of another hulking figure through the tiny window in the stairwell door, and her heart began to race again. She leapt down the rest of the stairs, using her power to cushion her fall, and flattened herself against the corner of the doorway before she risked another peek. Incredibly, the Hellbood hadn't moved from where he was standing, or heard her approach. He was clearly pretty dull, even for a Hellblood, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She reached out with her power, holding him aloft and getting set to produce a force vector that would send the massive man flying, just as she'd done to his compatriots earlier. She was just lucky that he hadn't thought to cry out and alert anyone else. Then, the realization hit her. He hadn't cried out or made any move to resist, even though she hadn't done anything to stop his voice from working or his arms from moving. Straining a little to keep up her concentration on her gravity manipulation and creep as stealthily as she could, Bridget inched the door open and gasped as she got a good look at her target. He was suspended in the air as she'd expected, but he simply hung there, a puppet held in place by an unseen hand. Massively muscled arms dangling uselessly at his sides, and his head lolled downward as though his neck had given out. His eyes were open but his stare was blank and unfocused, and his eyes glassy. Bridget moved a few cautious paces forward, then suddenly froze in surprise and horror. There was a perfect circle of charred, blackened skin visible beneath his shirt. The mark was so dark that it seemed to suck in all the ambient light, drawing Bridget's eyes to it insistently, even as she tried to look away. The Hellblood hit the floor with a carpet-muffled thump, Bridget's concentration was broken as she stared, stunned. It wasn't a burn, and the skin was unbroken. If Bridget didn't know better, she'd almost think it was some kind of weird fashion statement, that he'd just colored over the red of his shirt with paint or magic.. But that couldn't be. He didn't look any stronger than the others, and it hadn't given him any obvious new powers above and beyond the Hellbloods' usual physical prowess. And he wasn't dead; his chest still rose and fell in deep, full breaths. He was just...empty. What the hell is this? Bridget thought frantically, shuddering involuntarily at the sight of the man in front of her. <<I...do not know.>> Val replied, her voice thoughtful, as though the hollowed-out man in front of her were an intriguing puzzle rather an unnatural travesty. <<It's not something our technology can achieve, at any rate, so it doesn't seem relevant to why we're here. In a way, we're fortunate; this particular human poses no threat to us now.>> Except now instead of worrying about being riddled with bullets, we can worry about having our minds ripped away! Yeah, I'd definitely call that lucky. Bridget's hands shook, and her internal voice was thin and shrill. But she retained enough sense to know what she ought to do in such a situation, and closed her eyes.. The familiar rush of power and the warmth of the purple void were comforting, and her fear began to melt away. The tightness in her chest eased, and the shaking of her hands diminished to a manageable shiver. She shook her head to clear it, and, trying no to think too hard about what she was doing, floated the Hellblood into a corner and out of her line of sight. Cursing under her breath at the terrible absurdity of the whole situation, Bridget steeled herself with anger and kept walking. The next room she entered was a giant common office space, or might have been before it became a war zone. It was easily thirty or forty feet wide, and it was long enough that she had to squint to make out the sign on the far wall that pointed out the path to the elevators, lobby and administrative offices. The Hellbloods had clearly been preparing to make a stand here. Beige cubicle walls had been ripped apart and moved to form barricades, and cases of ammunition and racks of firearms greeted her as she wound her way through the maze. A few minutes ago, Bridget would have dreaded running this gauntlet, creeping from wall to wall, and hoping she could catch the bullets in time. Now though, the emptiness of the room weighed even more heavily on her. There was no sound except the tiny scuffing of her footfalls, and even that small sound was muffled by her surroundings. At her first clear view of another collection if the candles lit with blue flame, Bridget was almost happy to encounter something as normal as firelight, whatever the color. But as she approached and saw what else was nearby, her stomach did a somersault. Another Hellblood lay a few inches from the nearest barricade, slumped against a stack of plastic boxes, gun still in hand, but with the same perfectly round circle of blackness visible on his back. Bridget hurried onward, trying as hard as she could not to look down at the man as she passed him. But, looking forward, her eyes seemed drawn to the shapes of his fellows, all of whom had met a similar fate. They now stood rooted in place, or dangled limply over cubicle walls, looking like a collection of dolls discarded by a bored and fickle child. As Val dispassionately counted up the thirteen hollowed Hellbloods, Bridget cleared the worst of the clutter, until only a few dozen feet of empty carpet stood between her and the next room. She looked ahead to see the black marble of the lobby, and she caught a tiny flick of bright, glowing green that slid along the ground, around the corner and out of view. Look! Bridget interrupted Val tpo point out where the thing had been, and rushed forward to follow it. But then suddenly, the crash of a door slamming open filled the empty room, followed swiftly by the echo of heavy boots pounding on marble, and a rush of sound. It was the same shrieking hiss from before, but twisted up with an eerie, sonorous note that made Bridget's teeth stand on end. She saw two Hellbloods running frantically past the far doorway, and threw herself to the side to avoid being spotted. “Darius! Darius, open up!” they wailed frantically, their voices breaking in terror. “That thing's gone nuts, it's eating everyone! You've got to call it off!” “Hey, come on man! Let us in! Someone? Anyone, please!” They shouted There was a banging sound of massive fists on glass, and a quiet but insistent crack as it began to give way under their assault. Bridget moved closer, hoping to get the drop on them while they were distracted, but still being careful to use the wall to hide herself from view. Another shriek pierced the air, and a familiar golden form hurtled backward into the hall, thrown with massive force from outside. The pair of Hellbloods gave twin yelps of pain as Sami careened into them, knocking them to the floor with a sickening crunch. Oh, great Bridget thought to herself. Exactly the person I was hoping not to see. She hunkered down and sucked in her breath, trying to make herself as small and unobtrusive as possible, hoping her sister would just walk out the same way she was hurled in. Bridget could hear Sami clamber to her feet. “Heh, bowling for Hellbloods” the heroine mused to herself. “Well, boys, sorry I can't stay, and chat, but I've got a dance with that winged snake beastie, and I'm afraid I've got no time to spare.” She chuckled to herself, then flew straight out the busted door, not even stopping to look around. “You make a better bowling ball than a comedian, Sami.” Bridget hissed under her breath, and stifled a snicker of her own. <<While I'm happy your sister discovered her true calling, we should hurry. It sounds like resistance is crumbling outside>> Bridget moved to follow Val's advice, finally rounding the corner. The walls were white marble,and stood out in contrast to the black of the floor in the florescent light that filtered in from behind the frosted glass doors at the end of the hall. Two Hellbloods lay crumpled in a heap in front of the door, She looked back over her shoulder to see the doors of the front entrance burst from their hinges and lying in splinters. The darkness of the night concealed the battle raging outside, except for the brief moments when the scene was illuminated in flashes of lightning. Bridget could see five small figures, whirling and darting around a massive s snake, thirty feet long at least, and held aloft with vast wings that seemed to stretch on forever. It hissed and snapped and spat at them, but each time they just barely dodged its strikes. Bridget watched, awestruck, as the beast shrugged off volley after volley of golden and white light, bolts of lightning, and blasts of sound, as though they were mere sparks and pinpricks. She heard Isis's voice intoning pieces of a frantic chant that dissolved into a string of curses as sweeping swipes of the thing's massive tail missed her by inches. <<Bridget, we don't have time to spectate>> Val prodded her urgently. Oh, right, she replied sheepishly, as she turned reluctantly from the ongoing melee. Well, no time like the present I guess. Bridget closed her eyes and raised both hands, and smiled as a loud shattering crash told her that the door had given way even before he opened her eyes to view her handiwork. She squared her shoulders with determination, swept the broken glass aside with a quick wave, and entered the Hellblood leader's inner sanctum. Issue 2 Chapter 6: Leader of the Pack The sight that greeted Bridget was jarringly ordinary; a very corporate waiting room, complete with chairs that looked to be made of cheap grey plastic, and a rack of magazines that looked years old, and dull enough that, even if they were new, only the extreme tedium to be found in this place would make anyone interested in reading them. At the far end of the room, directly between the chairs that lined each wall was a reception desk, unoccupied and covered in dust. The room was lit by two tall, thin lamps, which cast a surprisingly warm glow about the place; evidently Darius didn't think the occult décor necessary for his own office. He had, however, seen fit to claim the pace as his own, a brass plaque with the name DARIUS S. MORGAN had been hung on the front of a polished wooden door that practically shone in its cleanliness compared to its surroundings. Bridget's first instinct was to try listening at the door again, but there was no way that the yelling Hellbloods and the breaking glass hadn't already alerted whoever was inside. So she decided on a more aggressive option. She gripped the doorknob in one hand, and turned it, brushing it just a little with her power to lend it momentum. It opened with a rush of air, and rammed into the wall, announcing her arrival with a crash. “Hold it right there!” she shouted, striking as heroic a pose as she could as she strode into the room. She had expected some degree of surprise, or at worst a hail of bullets. But she was met instead by a a deep and rumbling basso laughter. “Do I really rate so low, that you would come to fight me alone, and so...shabbily dressed, little miss heroine?” Darius smiled a hunter's smile, all glistening white teeth and predatory delight. He was slouched back casually in a chair, of soft and elegant brown leather, his feet perched almost jauntily atop the mahogany desk in front of him. His close cropped hair, perfectly trimmed goatee, and his suit and tie made him seem more of a yuppie executive than the leader of a gang of occultist thugs. After a few moments of staring, however, Bridget saw the details that completed the picture. A silver pentagram-shaped earring hung under Darius's right ear, and his plush desk was circumscribed by a gigantic rune carved into the tile floor. His right hand, which bore a gigantic silver ring with an amethyst gemstone, and it was large enough to fit all the way around the glowing green snake that was coiled around it. “Kimmy, why didn't you tell me the Stalwart Six were so hard-pressed to find members?” he said, turning his head to look behind “I would never have expected they'd start recruiting so young. This one is, what, ten at most?” He chuckled derisively. Bridget felt her cheeks burn. She wanted so very badly to just reach out with her powers and make him into a Hellblood pinata. But that would only get her flak from Val, who would no doubt point out, rightly, that they needed to get Darius to talk, and while knocking him senseless might be cathartic, it was insufficiently devious and likely counterproductive. As the thought crossed her mind, though, it planted the seed of a clever ploy, which she hastily put into action. “Now listen here, villain, if you don't want the full fury of the Stalwart Six to come down on you, you'd better-” she began, when she was suddenly interrupted “The girl's lying, Morgan. She's not once of the Six, and there's no way they'd send her in alone of she were one of theirs, She's alone.” The voice came from behind Darius, it's timbre was that of a child, but it had a clipped and dry intensity that was unquestionably adult. Its owner stepped out from behind Darius's chair, where she had been hidden from sight by its high back and Darius's own massive form. She stood barely as tall as Darius was as he sat, and that only if you counted the additional height her bright green pigtails gave her. Her face was round and dimpled, and the cold-green-eyed death glare she gave Bridget didn't quite outweigh the cuteness of her childish features. She wore a frilly, dark turquoise dress with puffed sleeves, and shoulders, and hemline festooned with silver bows that matched her hair ties. For a moment, Bridget thought they were blowing in an invisible wind, until she focused on them, and realized they were all in reality miniature silver snakes, coiling and uncoiling themselves, as she moved. The girl's tiny hands were clutched tightly around a silver staff that looked like the symbol Bridget had seen in the hospital, two serpents entwined around a central body of wood, meeting at a rounded top that the girl aimed at Bridget like the point of a spear. <<That was a good try, sweetie, Val offered consolingly <<However, it looks like this little one is going to complicate negotiations>> Darius laughed again, cold and mirthlessly. “Well, well, it looks like you're in over your head!” As he finished his sentence, Darius leapt up from his chair. He stood up to his full height, so that he absolutely towered over Bridget. He was easily over six feet tall, and the punch he threw at Bridget as he lunged forward had enough force to shatter bones. Bridget threw out her power in instinctive terror, knocking Darius off balance just enough that his punch went wide. With a splintering crash, the blow hit the door behind her and smashed a hole through it. Darius roared in pain as splinters pierced his fist. The sheer volume of his bellow made Bridget want to run as far away as she could, but she turned around to face him, trying to ignore the distinctive shaking of her knees. Kimmy just giggled, enjoying the show. “Why, you!” Darius straightened up, blew on his knuckles and advanced again. <<Heh, he's quite a disappointment. >> Val quipped <<I was expecting a clever strategist, but it turns out he's just a brute in a suit. Let's show him the weight of leadership, shall we?>> Brute or no, I really hope you have a clever plan, or else we'll end up pasted! Bridget thought back frantically. She used her power t throw Darius back into the wall, but he shrugged the collision off like it was nothing and bounded back toward her fist reared back to strike. <<When have I ever not had a clever plan, little one? Just follow my lead>> Bridget closed her eyes obediently, trying not to focus on the massive form barreling toward her. She saw the purple void around her, and felt Val guiding the precise motion of her fingers. Darius's howl of rage suddenly turned into yelp of surprise and there was a gigantic crash as his massive form fell to the floor. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Darius in a heap in front of her. He was grunting with effort and trying to regain his feet, but even though his muscles bulged in exertion as he brace himself, he couldn't lift his arms from the floor. It looked like they were just too heavy for him. <<Human musculature is appallingly inefficient. Increase the weight of one part of the body by a mere factor of ten, and the whole system falls apart. I have no idea how you manged to survive this long as a species>> Sheer stubbornness, Bridget replied. But hopefully this'll be enough to get him to talk. “Are you done?” Bridget asked Darius contemptuously, doing her best to sound commanding and impressive. “Answer my questions, and maybe I'll let you go.” “Like hell I will, brat!” Darius spat, his lips twisted in a defiant sneer. “Kimmy, get rid of her!” “Sorry, Morgan,” she said, “I really wish I could, but you contracted me to give you the power to fight the Stalwart Six, not to save your bacon when you're backed into a corner by a mere child. “But if you let me keep the extra souls my serpents collected, I could help you out.” She smirked, and twirled her staff above her head. “Fine!” he hissed in response. “Do it!” “I don't think so!” Bridget shouted, turning her attention to Kimmy, and summoning up enough power to hurl her against the wall, just as she'd done with Darius. But Kimmy just jabbed her staff forward with a smirk, and a shimmering barrier formed in a globe around her. It pulsed, but she didn't move so much as an inch. backward “What you think,” she said, her childish voice dripping with contempt, “does not matter in the slightest.” <How in the name of the endless void did she do that?>> Val asked in disbelief. <<It'd not possible to just countermand physics like that!>> The glowing serpent that Darius had been putting when Bridget barged into the room slithered out from behind its desk. It's body was at least ten feet long, but its smooth serpentine form bulged in many places, as though it had eaten better and more often than any real snake needed to. The snake shook violently, and the bulges in its body began to move toward its mouth. Bridget watched in horrified fascination as it vomited up thirteen spheres of light, each about the size of her head. Its task complete, it curled up behind Kimmy, leaving seven more still in its gullet. Kimmy slammed her staff into the floor, and the marks that had been carved into the wood beneath Bridget's feet glowed with a venomous green light. “In the name of Lady Uto, Devourer of Corruption, let our pact be sealed!” The whole building shook, and groaned, as though in pain, and the glowing spheres dimmed and flickered out, like candles that had been suddenly snuffed. As they disappeared, Bridget thought she could hear tiny shrieks of agony. “You really are new to this, aren't you, girl? You might have had a chance if you'd killed him instead of just standing there watching.” “A rookie mistake. Let's see how much it costs you.” “Darius,” Kimmy smirked “if you please?” From behind her, Bridget heard an unearthly howl. The primal, instinctive part of her brain screamed at her to run, but she quashed the thought and turned to face the source of the sound. Then, too quickly for her to realize what was happening, something smashed into her with tremendous force, sending her hurtling backward. Her back slammed into the desk, and her world exploded in searing pain. She felt a sudden massive pressure, on her chest, and as the initial shock of the blow wore off, she looked up to meet Darius's eyes. But the eyes that stared balefully down at her were no longer human. They belonged to massive, rust red wolf, its jaws opened wide in a terrible, slavering grin. It lunged forward, grabbing for her throat. In one final, desperate moment, Bridget lashed out with everything she had, pushing past the pain that coursed through her body, and the sharp pain of the thing's claws digging into her chest. The infernal wolf shot upward and smashed into the ceiling. Bridget barely had time to roll out of the way, before it came crashing back down to earth, its legs in a jumble beneath it. The creature that had once been Darius yelped in pain and leapt backward. Bridget struggled to her knees, her arm outstretched toward her enemy. But she shook with pain and fatigue, and the beast took a few cautious steps forward. It lunged again. This time, Bridget didn't have the strength to negate the thing's massive weight, and it shook off the force she hurled at it, its claws leaving gashes on the floor as she pushed it back just far enough that its snapping jaws barely missed her her head. Bridget winced as flecks of caustic spit flew into her face. The satisfied smile that had formed on Kimmy's face suddenly vanished, as she let out a curse. The room filled with the smell of ozone as the eerie glow faded from the marks on the floor. In the distance, Bridget heard another hissing shriek from the beast outside. But this time it was filled with pain and fear instead of menace. Through the exhaustion that made her limbs feel impossibly heavy, and the pain that wracked her body, Bridget felt a dull satisfaction as she realized that the gouges that the wolf-Darius's massive claws had left in the floor had broken one of the tines of Kimmy's carefully prepared diagram, robbing it of its power. “Idiot!” she shrieked, her voice high and thin “Stop ruining everything and kill her!” The monster opened its jaws, and Bridget saw, with dawning horror, tongues of fire gathering in its throat. With a roar, a gout of flame erupted from its mouth. Too exhausted to counterattack, it was all Bridget could do to bring her hand up in a futile attempt to protect her face. Time seemed to stretch on forever as she watched the fire build and billow toward her. Sorry Val, she sighed, I really screwed this one up didn't I? I guess I should've fled into space like you said, huh? <<What are you talking about? Just move the thing's head so the fire misses you completely.>> Val said incredulously I can't. It's too heavy, and everything hurts. The fire began to approach, streaming from the Darius-beast's mouth <<Push the air, then!>> Val replied, her voice frantic. Huh? Why? << Bridget Genevieve Winston, you will do as I say right now! >> The snap in Val's reprimand cut through the fog of Bridget's exhaustion and sent an instinctive twinge of urgency barreling down her spine Fine, Bridget replied, and shut her eyes, too exhausted to protest further. She felt the purple void pull her in, and the gentle pressure of it guided her hand. She put up no resistance, and simply waited for the its warmth to be replaced by searing pain as she burned to ash. Issue 2 Chapter 7 Kimmy Schaeffer, Consulting Demonologist But nothing happened. Bridget opened her eyes groggily to see the furniture and the floor around her burnt and blackened by the infernal flame. But everything within a foot of her was fine, as though the fire had simply decided to go around her. <<It appears that whatever sort of fire that was, it was just as susceptible to vacuum as any other form of combustion reaction,>> Val said triumphantly. The infernal wolf halted for a moment, obviously as confused as Bridget was at her survival. But its destructive instincts reasserted themselves, and it leapt at Bridget, howling in fury. It was brutally quick, and Bridget, exhausted, had no way of dodging the vicious claws and teeth. But, just as it was about to savage Bridget, there was a sudden hiss from behind it, and its predatory growls became tiny yips of fear. It went silent, and stood utterly still, as though paralyzed. An instant later, a glowing, ghostly-green serpent passed through the wolf's chest, a sphere of orange light like a star the size of Bridget's head clutched in its jaws. The snake paid Bridget no mind, and turned its head away from her. Kimmy patted it on the head like an obedient pet, and held out a small ceramic jar decorated in faded reds, yellows, and blues to receive the spectral serpent's gift. The sphere fell into the jar, and Kimmy smiled as she closed the lid. Bridget just watched, dumbstruck. Val, on the other hand, could not keep silent in the face of this impossible spectacle. <<This is all absurd mysticism and superstition, a pale imitation of true science! It shouldn't be this powerful! It can't be! When we get out of here, Bridget, we must study this!>> “Not precisely what I'd envisioned, but acceptable just the same. Lady Uto will be pleased.” Kimmy said to herself, oblivious to Val's outburst. “You,” she said, turning her attention to Bridget, “are lucky to be alive, and should get out of here as soon as you can. Knowing Isis, she and her little friends will likely help you if you can't leave under your own power. Take whatever you came here for and go.” She proceeded to stuff the jar in a pocket of her dress and turned to leave, her pigtails bobbing as she made her way toward the door, serpent slinking its way behind her. Bridget gritted her teeth through the pain, and struggled to her feet. “Wait!” she called, the sound of her voice echoing in the silent office. “Yes?” Kimmy turned her head back to look at Bridget, visibly annoyed at the interruption. She watched with amusement as Bridget tottered forward. “Why...why did you do this? You were helping Darius, and then you just decided to erase him?” “Oh foolish child.” Bridget grimaced at the indignity of a girl who looked and dressed like an elementary-schooler call her a child. “He's still quite alive, as are the other thugs whose souls I've taken as tribute to Lady Uto, Devourer of Corruption.” “What the hell is wrong with you?” Bridget shouted, ignoring the ache of her ribs from when Darius had pinned her to the floor. “What are you talking about?” The little girl's voice rose in irritation. “They were criminals, and got what they deserved. You should be thanking me, both for saving your life, and for doing the dirty work you and every other brightly-colored buffoon like you refuses to do.” Kimmy stared up at Bridget, face set in a defiant grimace. “Look, I'm not an official heroine,” Bridget replied, “but taking people's souls just for being in a gang is so far beyond a proportionate response that-” “A proportionate response, is it?” Kimmy mimicked, her voice a mocking singsong. “You already sound like a proper little heroine, costume or no.” “Listen, you little-” Bridget began angrily. “No, you listen. Darius Morgan contracted me to turn him into that thing. He wanted to use it to carve out his own little supervillainous fiefdom here, but I stopped him. I fulfilled that contract such that only the guilty, the rest of his cadre of power-hungry brutes, would suffer, then took his soul for my mistress. Would you have preferred I let him kill you, along with the heroes out there, maybe rampage a bit and maul a fee innocents to death? Would it be proportional then?” she spat sneeringly. “That's still not for you to decide! That's why we have laws, and courts. Heroes are saviors and protectors, not executioners!” Her voice had shaken a little before, but as her fury built, Bridget's volume and confidence grew with it. Sami said a lot of stupid things, especially since she became an official hero, but even though Bridget often found her lectures tiresome, she knew that when her sister said the words that she herself now quoted back to Kimmy, she meant them. “Perhaps you're confused by my appearance, child, by the mask of innocence I don to do my work. I'm no hero, bound by the laws of my lessers. Nor am I a villain, harming the innocent in mad pursuit of power. I am Kimberly Schaeffer, Consulting Demonologist, and I do what needs to be done.” There was a sudden, blinding flash, and where the child Kimmy had been a moment before, a full-grown woman stood. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and was taller than Bridget by a head. Her bright green hair was no longer bound in pigtails, but fell down loosely below her shoulders. Her frilly dress was replaced by a long, teal trenchcoat that drape over her black shirt and tights. The jar she'd used to capture Darius's soul hung off her belt, and her black boots were decorated with entwined silver serpents. Her eyes were steel-grey as she stared down at Bridget, and Bridget saw then that the skin around her left eye was covered by a tattoo of eight serpents that undulated eerily as Kimmy moved her head. “Now, if you're done quoting Intro to Metahuman Criminal Justice at me, I'll be going.” Kimmy said, dismissively. She tossed something over her shoulder, and it fluttered gently into the pocket of Bridget's windbreaker. “Here's my card. When your pointless idealism has ruined a few lives and you're willing to start the real work, give me a call.” Kimmy turned on her heel and opened the office door. <<It's best we let her go, little one,>> Val advised kindly. <<We can return later to look for the clues we need after you've had time to rest and heal, and if we leave now while the Stalwart Six are still fighting her giant snake, we can keep our secret another day.>> Bridget didn't respond. Instead, she sprinted forward, the sound of her feet on the tile a clumsy contrast to the precise click of Kimmy's heels. She came up behind the taller woman, and aimed a punch squarely at the back of her head. Kimmy Schaeffer was a skilled summoner, and her divine patron had taught her all manner of wards against superhuman strength, fire, ice, and energy blasts. But she had none or those wards up when her only opponent was a fledgling hero whose powers were spent. As such, no magical barrier flared to life, and Bridget's entirely mundane blow found its target with a satisfying thud, and an entirely non-magical cry of pain. Sometimes, it turned out, Sami's strategy was the correct one, and punching the smug sorceress in the head was the way to go. “Screw you, lady.” Bridget said defiantly, as Kimmy clutched her head in pain. <<What did you do?>> Val cried in disbelief. <<We can't fight her!>> I'm not just letting a soul-stealer walk out of here, Val. Maybe we can hold her long enough for the Six to get here. But then Bridget learned why Sami's strategy wasn't more widely employed. Her punch had the strength of conviction and stubbornness behind it, but it was a long way from one of Sami's knockout blows. Kimmy let out a cry of fury, spun around on the spot, and pointed her staff at Bridget's chest. A bolt of green light erupted from the tip, and sent Bridget sprawling onto the floor. “I usually charge for this kind of lesson, child. But in your case, the first one's free.” Bridget struggled to her feet. “For someone who keeps claiming they're not a villain, you sure do love to hear the sound of your own voice.” She reached out with the energy she's managed to recover during Kimmy's lecture, and hurled Darius's plush leather chair over his vacant-eyed lupine head and directly at the demonologist. In response, she simply smirked, and the same shimmering barrier from before encircled her. The barrier stopped the furniture projectile cold, and it fell uselessly to the floor with a crash. Oh, right. Bridget thought belatedly. That could be a problem. “The first thing you should know, girl, is your place!” Kimmy held her staff up over her head and twirled it once. “Just because a few second rate conjurers like my dear friend Isis pander to you with animal tricks, that doesn't mean you're in any way fit to fight the chosen Emissary of the Egyptian Goddess of Judgment. Bridget rolled her eyes. “Yeah, nice monologue lady. Let's see if your fancy titles and snake goddesses can protect you from this!” Bridget closed her eyes, and sent the remains of the office door through the air. But, to her dismay, Kimmy's shield held with barely a flicker. “Don't you have any other tricks? That one's getting tiresome.” Kimmy sneered. “Besides, you really should be paying attention to more than constructing your next feeble insult.” Kimmy smiled, and pointed a finger downward. Bridget's gaze reflexively followed her direction, and she looked down at her own shadow that flickered and warped in the florescent lamplight until it looked less like a human shadow and more like a multi-headed serpent coiling and uncoiling itself. Then, in an instant, the serpentine shadow suddenly gained dimension, and began slithering up her body. The thing's touch was cold and clammy, and Bridget tried to escape its grip, marshaling her power to force the thing away from her. But her gravity manipulation didn't seem to do anything, the creature was made of shadow, and shadow had no mass for her powers to affect. No matter how she tried to twist her legs free, the thing's formless grip only grew tighter as it wound more and more of itself around her. All too quickly, Bridget found herself caught in a crushing, frigid prison. Her chest burned as the snake squeezed her ribs. She tried to hit the thing's body, but it had wrapped one of its heads around each of her limbs, leaving her completely pinned and utterly helpless. Kimmy watched with silent satisfaction as her creature continued its work. Bridget's eyes darted around, hoping to see some sign that the Six had finished their fight with Kimmy's winged serpent, and could rush in to save her. Her pride recoiled at the thought, but as the crushing pressure of the shadow serpent kept building, pride gave way to the instinctive need for survival. When the air was once again pierced by a familiar hissing shriek, Bridget's last hope dwindled to nothing. Kimmy simply smiled wide, as though Christmas ,or whatever analogue sinister snake sorceresses might observe, had come early. Her arms and legs were suddenly covered in glowing, venomous-green hieroglyphs. Val, what do we do? Bridget thought desperately as her vision started to grow fuzzy. <<In situations such as this, the Voidwalker's way is to return to her basic nature.>> <<We feed.>> How? <<Let me show you.>> Bridget closed her eyes, doing her best to block out the pain of the shadowy coils constricting her chest. Sure enough, she was again met with the familiar purple void, but the feeling of it was different this time; it seemed denser and heavier, more like a vast violet fog of euphoria than a reach of empty space. <<Take a look, my little one.>> The vapor around Bridget wound its way into her nostrils, and the heat of it coursed through her. Her vision blurred and shifted, and the scene before her changed. Darius's office looked dim and eerie, every corner bathed in a fierce red light. It looked like someone had put a red filter on the all the lights in the office. Bridget looked around, and saw that the people in the room gave off light of a different hue; Darius and Kimmy glowed a soft green, as did Bridget. Kimmy was also surrounded by a harsh blue barrier that matched the shield she'd erected around herself. Bridget tuned her gaze to her own body, and saw that beneath the soft green of her skin, tendrils of purple power flowed through her veins. She averted her eyes from the eerie view of her own circulatory system and focused on Darius. He was a strong and bright green, except for a small shimmering spark that floated near his paw, its color the unmistakable purple of Voidwalker energy. Look at that! Bridget thought excitedly, That's got to be his ring, I bet it's the evidence we came for! <<Later.>> Val said curtly. <<There's so much life energy here for the taking!>> Bridget felt Val nudging her, and she reached out toward Darius and Kimmy. But instead of her arm moving toward them, two tendrils of the purple energy arced from her like violet electricity. Kimmy leapt suddenly out of the way, and Bridget thought she heard a cry of ,“What the hell!” But it was muffled and far away, as though she were underwater. Darius, on the other hand, was just an empty shell, and made no move as to evade her lashing tendril. as the bridge of power between his body and Bridget's brightened, the light of his life-force dimmed. The rush of power hit Bridget like a jolt of caffeine after an all-nighter, a surge of vitality that suffused her entire being. In an instant, her pain and fear vanished. A tingling sensation replaced the ache of the bruises she'd sustained, and she felt as fresh as though she had just woken up from the best sleep of her life. But even more than that, she felt powerful in a way that she never had before. The reservoir of energy that surrounded her when she closed her eyes was no longer not just a void or a fog. It wrapped her up as tightly as the spectral snake, but there was no pain, and she felt instinctively, that as long as she was in its embrace, she could do anything. <<Do you feel that, little one!>> Val exclaimed, exultant. <<That is the true power of a Voidwalker!>> <<We must have more!>> Bridget's senses expanded; she could see in every direction at once, further and further, with an inhuman sight that pierced the walls around her as easily as if they were empty air. She could sense the succulent life-energy of rest of the inert Hellbloods, and reached out toward them the same way as she had their leader. The power within her built and built in a furious crescendo as she fed on each in turn, until every particle of her being hummed with potential begging to be unleashed. The green lights that she had reached for began to fade, and a vague sense of unease cut through the fog of bliss around her. Val? Bridget called, shaking herself free of the sheer euphoria of the feeding frenzy, Maybe we should stop? <<Why? They're just empty shells, ripe for the taking!>> Val guided Bridget again, but more insistently than she ever had before. She rose into the air with a jerk, ripping herself free from the spectral serpent's coils. Bridget realized as she floated there, free of the constraints of gravity, that the sheer thrill of the energy flowing through her drowned out the nausea that usually accompanied her attempts at flight. She looked down at the glowing green shape that was Kimmy, and reached out confidently to manipulate the gravitational force around her. Bridget observed with satisfaction as the purple tendrils of her own power hurled every object in the office at Kimmy's shield all at once. The barrier flickered like a guttering candle under the strain. Suddenly on the defensive once more, Kimmy launched a blast of blue light from her palm, which struck Bridget squarely in the chest. She instinctively used her power to counteract the force of the spell, and managed to keep herself from flying backward. But the blow broke the grip of the Voidwalkers' primal hunger for energy; she shook her head, and the world returned to normal. Kimmy and Darius were no longer green silhouettes, and the light in the room had returned to its normal soft fluorescence. The shadow snake was visible again, but it found itself wrapped around nothing, and whatever intelligence it had was stymied by the unexpected escape of its prey. The tendrils of Voidwalker power, however, did not fade, and judging from the expression of mingled confusion and horror on Kimmy's face, Bridget realized she must be quite a sight. <<Bridget,>> Val said, <<Shall we teach this creature why it is rude to interrupt someone when they're eating?>> The frenzied eagerness was gone from Val's voice, replaced by an unnerving, dispassionate calm. Still, part of Bridget felt a twinge of eager excitement at the prospect of letting Val do as she wished. Her heart began to beat faster, as she raised her hand once more. This time, when Bridget reached out to let Val guide her, she felt the warmth of Val's embrace move down her arm as a whip of pulsing purple energy erupted from her palm. It flew through the air, directly toward the perimeter of Kimmy's shield. Unfortunately for Kimmy, the ward she had conjured, while incredibly adept at blocking external alterations of physical forces within its bounds, was not tuned to deflect the alien energy of Bridget's attack. The lashing coil wound its way around both of her wrists and caught them tight, locking the sorceress's wrists together with invisible but irresistible force. She cried out in pain, and lost her grip on her staff, which clattered to the ground, useless. <<Cretin.>> Val said, her voice brimming with fury. <<You'll pay dearly for hurting my little one.>> Confusion and fear flashed across Kimmy's face, but she quickly concealed them with a snort of contempt. “How about this lesson?” Bridget said mockingly. “Don't be a condescending know-it-all!” Her voice reverberated eerily, which might under normal circumstances have been unsettling, but the barely-hidden terror on Kimmy's face was too satisfying to for thoughts like that to ruin. “Ugh, fine. What do you want from me?” Kimmy spat defiantly Bridget levitated Darius's ring from around his paw to the palm of her hand, and held it out for Kimmy to see. “How did the Hellbloods get so strong so quickly? And what does this ring do? They're far too dense to have such powerful magic on their own, and it doesn't seem scaly enough to be your work.” Kimmy narrowed her eyes at the ring for a moment before responding. “It's a key of some kind, but it's not magical. Other than that, I don't know. Darius used it to access a warehouse on Crescent Avenue that he said contained 'donations from a sponsor.' Pretty terrible investment if you ask me.” <<We didn't,>> Val said coldly. “Was that it?” Kimmy asked dryly. “Really, if you'd just asked that in the first place, we could have avoided all this unpleasantness.” “”Oh sure, your 'client' seemed really keen on that,” Bridget retorted. “Besides, you're a garbage human being, so I'm glad I'll get to leave you as a present for the Stalwart Six” “At least I'm human, not some possessed thing. And don't assume that just because you happened to win a single battle that you can have everything your own way.” She flicked her hair, and one of the silver serpents that had served as a hair tie fell to the floor with a hiss. “Return me to the Mother Goddess,” Kimmy commanded, and the tiny serpent opened its jaws impossibly wide, until its mouth was several feet around. “Farewell for now, child. Don't count on luck to save you next time.” Kimmy leapt into the air, hands still bound by a ring of purple energy, leapt into the silver serpent's maw, which closed with a snap behind her. Then the hair tie went still, a simple accessory once more. The glowing green soul-catcher and the constricting shadow vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving seven glowing orbs of light floating aimlessly in the midst of the ruined office. Bridget stood amid the wreckage, the clue she'd come for in hand, still savoring her victory and what remained of the surge of power that she had imbibed from the Hellbloods. <<See, what did I tell you, little one? I knew you could do it. You're such a good girl.>> Val's voice was once again warm and reassuring in Bridget's head, but still carried subtle echoes of its former menace. “Thanks, space-Mommy,” Bridget replied in a whisper that, thankfully, sounded like her own voice again. <<Let's get going. It's past your bedtime.>> Bridget began to protest, but thought better of it, and headed out the door. As she carefully crept through the main hallway, past the motionless forms of he two Hellbloods Sami had bowled into earlier, another hissing shriek pierced the air, strained with agony. Bridget couldn't resist pausing for a few moments in a concealed corner to watch the battle between Kimmy's giant serpent and the Stalwart Six, despite Val's insistent protestations. Whatever wards Kimmy had used on the winged serpent to bolster its defenses had obviously faded, as the thing was covered in huge gashes which oozed a strange blue ichor. Its whole body looked like an oil painting that had begun to run; its scales melted together like hot wax. With a rumbling crack, Leanne launched a forked bolt of electricity that set the thing convulsing, and Stell took position above as the creature thrashed helplessly. The diamond-haired heroine suddenly shone so brightly that Bridget had to shield her eyes with her hand. <<Wait, it can't be....>> Val hissed, her voice barely a whisper. The air was filled with an unearthly hum that made Bridget's teeth hurt. When her vision cleared, the snake had been impaled by a spear of pure white light, stuck to the earth like an insect kept for study. The winged snake slumped to the cracked and scorched concrete with a final, pitiful hiss, and faded into nothingness. <<Run, little one, run!>> Val cried in sudden panic. <<By every star in the void, run!>> A pulse of primal fear that was not her own hit Bridget, spurring her on as she dashed back the way she'd come, bounding over the clutter of the silent stronghold, up the stairs and back to the room where she'd launched her assault. She stared out the broken window, looking down at the ground far below. She stopped for a moment to brace her nerves and to steady herself; The prospect of flight was so much more daunting without the rush of stolen energy running through her veins. Hoping to delay the moment she'd have to leap, Bridget asked the question that burned nearly as much as her lungs did. “What the hell, Val?” <<That girl. The airheaded cheerleader.>> “Stell? What about her? She's mostly harmless, just kind of an overeager ditz.” <<She's not. That wasn't just a blast of high-energy matter, that last spear was a hard light construct. There's only one source for that kind of power.>> <<She's a Star Warden. If she finds us, we're worse than dead.>> “Of freaking course. Why would anything be easy?” Bridget was still uncertain about the wisdom of the jump she was about to make, but the prospect of facing a vengeful, laser-wielding alien proved a powerful motivator. After a moment, she finally gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and leaped from the second-story window out into the crisp night air. Bridget's gravitic power cushioned her fall enough that it didn't hurt, but she didn't quite manage to keep her pride intact as she landed flat on her stomach. She did her best to shake off the impact, and made her way back through the abandoned industrial park, hoping that she'd managed to elude the sight of any of Overwatch's patrolling drones, holding close the ring that was their only clue to solving the whole interstellar mess she'd managed to get herself into. Bridget was fortunate that her and Val's feeding frenzy had helped her body heal the wounds of all the horrifying fights she'd been through. The energy they had absorbed and refreshed her enough that she could make her way back home though the chilly night, and slip back into her house, exhausted but unnoticed. By the time her head hit the pillow, the first rays of dawn peeked out over the horizon. Across town, that same dawn cast a pale grey light on six sleep-deprived heroines who were still trying to figure out what to do with nearly a score of soulless gangsters. Issue 2: Chapter 8- Flight Gear I still can't believe you're making me do this! It's crazy! Can't you wait more than three days between crazy ideas? I still can't believe you're making me do this! It's crazy! Bridget did her best to conceal behind the end of the aisle, cursing the bright light that starkly illuminated the whole of the nearly-deserted pharmacy. Her eyes darted back and forth, and her breath quickened as she scanned for any other shoppers who might see her at this height of humiliation. <<The logic is simple, and backed by empirical data. Resisting the conclusion at this point is the irrational choice.>> Val opined, unperturbed by Bridget's rising panic. Ugh, every time we babysit, you come up with these ridiculous, stupid ideas. I don't see why we can't just do a few more hours of practice. You can even berate me for being lazy if you want, I don't mind. We could just go home right now and- Bridget began hopefully. <<Oh, don't worry little one, we will.>> Val interrupted. <<But we need to get you flying as quickly as possible, and so we must investigate every possibility that could accelerate your training.>> But -those things-, she glanced furtively toward the shelf where the pink plastic packages sat placidly aren't going to do any of that. <<They certainly help Breanna. She seemed to enjoy being flown about both times we visited, and she was much higher up relative to her height than you were in every instance where you had trouble with levitation.>> Yeah, but she's a baby who doesn't understand why she should be afraid of heights, and she didn't have to worry about fighting super-gangsters at the same time she was flying, Bridget protested. <<That's exactly my point, sweetie, you don't have the luxury of missteps with your most basic powers,>> Val sighed in exasperation. <<This is already a significant compromise of form over function; I'm not entirely sure these thinner things will be enough padding to help you feel supported mid-flight. Perhaps something thicker would->> “No! Absolutely not! Not in a million years!” Bridget paled in terror at the thought of being stuck in any of the alternatives, they looked more like trash bags than underwear. Even the hearts and butterflies would be better than that; given the choice, she'd take looking like a baby over looking like a grandma. The sound of a throat being cleared brought Bridget's attention away from her passenger and to the cashier who gave her a glare of irritation. Bridget's cheeks flushed and she clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing too late that her protest had been all too audible. Bridget ducked into another aisle just to escape the elderly woman's stern gaze. She found refuge in the aisle that combined dental hygiene products and assorted hair-care items. Great, she sighed to herself, Now the cashier thinks I'm crazy. <<That shouldn't be a problem. It's not as though you couldn't just go to the other register.>> You're jut a fountain of terrible ideas today, aren't you, Val. Bridget said snippily. The person at the other register is the entire reason I didn't want to come here tonight! <<What, that Margot girl from the other day? It's not as though she's particularly imposing or threatening now that we have access to our powers.>> It's not that I'm worried she'll attack us. She's just....awful. Bridget finished. <<Feh. She's alone. She wasn't willing to do anything with her flunkies around; she's not going to be a problem now.>> Bridget busied herself by looking at the items on the shelves, scanning through the rows of colorful shampoo bottles. She dawdled a bit to build up her nerve to return to the aisle with the pink plastic packages whose contents she tried desperately not to think about. Val, however, was having none of it. <<Seriously? You're fine with fighting a sorceress who steals souls when you can barely stand, but buying a package of underwear is too much?>> Look, it's just incredibly embarrassing, okay? Bridget huffed, her cheeks flushing scarlet. <<Sweetie, I know.>> Val replied, <<But you need to do this. Look, if this doesn't help, we'll come up with something else.>> Bridget scowled and eyed the door, half thinking that she should just head out the door, regardless of how much Val complained. It would just be so much easier, and it wasn't like Val could really stop her. She could probably even duck around so that Margot wouldn't see her on the way out. <<How about this, little one? Val said, cajolingly, <<You get one small pack, say they're for a girl you're babysitting if anyone asks, and I teach you a new power after we're done here?>> Knowing you, that power will probably require me to get a rattle or something for some reason. Val chuckled a little in response. <<Not this time, I promise. And the blocks wouldn't have worked as a practice tool, if they weren't something you could get engrossed in playing with.>> It was probably unhealthy for all that blood to rush to her cheeks so fast, but Bridget was powerless to stem the tide of embarrassment. <<So, what do you say. Should we get what we came for and get out of here?>> ...Fine, Bridget conceded begrudgingly, but no more surprises. <<Of course, little one. I think you'll like what I have to show you. It's quite a sight.>> Somehow, that's not exactly reassuring. Val simply smiled a telepathic smile in response. Bridget walked slowly but steadily back to the childcare aisle, and grabbed one of the packages of training pants from the shelf, wincing a little at the image of the small child on the front. She took a deep breath, and gritted her teeth as she made her way for the register. She made for the register being run by the old lady, but despite herself, she couldn't help sneaking a look at Margot as she approached. It was strange to see Margot in her work uniform instead of her normal punk outfit. Her jet-black hair was tied in a high ponytail, and she wore a smile of forced politeness as she bagged items for a querulous old man whose bald head was covered so densely in liver spots, they looked like freckles. While Margot rung up his two bags of dried fruit and fifteen cans of tuna, the man took the opportunity to expound at great length about the problems with kids these days, and what a shame it was that none of the young heroes could follow the example of proper heroes like the League of Virtue. It was also apparently an unforgivable tyranny that stores had to put all the newfangled electronics in a separate case, and a clear sign of how bad things had gotten in the world if supposedly brilliant tech companies like Vector or Hyperion had to rely on locked glass ceases to stop the thugs of the world from just taking everything, a true indictment of the moral decay of society. Margot did an excellent job keeping up a facade of agreeableness throughout the entire diatribe, though Bridget really doubted that the bright blue smock Margot was wearing over her work shirt really needed the meticulous smoothing-over it was getting. “Did you find everything you were looking for today.” a raspy voice interrupted Bridget's voyeuristic reverie. “What?” “Oh, yeah, um, yes.” Bridget stammered. She put the package of training pants down on the conveyor. As the lady at the register slowly moved the package over the infrared scanner, the seconds stretched out and felt like hours. Bridget grabbed a king-size candy bar from the shelf near the register, in a flailing attempt to make it seem to any onlookers, or at least one in particular, that she was totally uninterested in what was going on and definitely not freaked out about buying training pants. A beep from the scanner signaled a reprieve, and Bridget brought her debit card out and inserted the chip in the slot as fast as she could. But as the cashier was processing her order, she heard the most terrifying two words she possibly could in that moment. “Hey, Bridget.” Margot's voice was neutral and quiet, but Bridget nearly jumped out of her skin all the same. “Um, hi.” Bridget mumbled, not sure whether she should be ready for a fight, or just hope to prolong the conversational niceties until she could flee the scene without incidentally committing petty larceny. <<Don't worry, little one, if it's the former, I'll help you demonstrate the effects of highly inelastic collisions>> “Sorry about the other day. Abby and Penny can get a little carried away” “Sure.” Bridget said noncommittally. Val sighed a little at the dimming prospect of the display of power she'd been looking forward to. “You still babysitting Maya's cousin?” Margot asked, with the air of someone desperately attempting the most precarious and rickety of conversational bridges in the face of roiling rapids of awkwardness. “Uh-huh.” “Cool.” They stared at each other for a few interminable seconds, until the whir of the register presenting a receipt finally broke the silence. Bridget grabbed her bags and scurried toward the door, only to realize sheepishly that she'd left her card in the reader, and had to double back to get it. Margot watched this expressionlessly, but as Bridget passed her by the third time, she spoke up again. “I know things have been kinda awkward lately, but...d'you think we could hang out like we used to?” The words came out so quickly that for a moment Bridget was sure she couldn't have heard them right. That was the closest he'd ever heard Margot come to an apology, and the sheer surprise stopped Bridget in her tracks. “Um,” she held tight to the plastic bag containing her humiliating purchase, as though it was an anchor to reality in this new bizzaro world that she'd evidently gotten lost in. “Okay?” As the words left her mouth, Bridget wasn't sure what possessed her to utter them, or why the terror she felt at the prospect. The thin line of Margot's mouth formed into the rarest of sights, a smile that wasn't a cruel smirk. <<What?>> Val was torn between annoyance and incredulity. <<Sometimes I despair of ever understanding humanity>> “Sweet. I'll pick you up on Saturday? You still live at the same address, right?” Margot's smile faltered a bit, as though her mouth was rebelling at the unfamiliar contortion. Bridget nodded, gave the quickest wave she could manage, and dashed out through the automatic doors as fast as her legs could carry her. She clutched the pull-ups as close to her as she could, hoping that she could keep anyone from seeing them in the parking lot before she could conceal them properly in her backpack. Crap, she thought to herself as she mounted up on her bike. What did I just agree to? <<I am uncertain.>> Val said dryly. <<But perhaps we could do something sensible and look into that warehouse that the Hellbloods were using.>> You want me to take a pack of pull-ups to a mission? Bridget asked incredulously. Or is the power you want to teach me time travel, so I can go back and prevent the many, many terrible decisions you've pushed me into today. <<Afraid not, sweetie.>> Val replied, <<But the ride to Crescent will provide ample opportunity to practice this new technique.>> As Val began explaining the proper procedure for a new application of gravitational energy, a smile slowly spread across Bridget's face, and she pumped her fist in excitement. If she could manage this, maybe it was worth letting Val have her fun after all.

Chapter 4: A Fall's Gravity As it turned out, Bridget didn't need Val's help for that night's homework, and she managed to get it done just as the clock on the kitchen wall showed 8:58. She slammed her laptop shut and pumped her fist in the air, victorious. Hah, I did it! she crowed, Spill, ET! << Oh, very well, I suppose I did agree to that. I'll tell you...tomorrow>> . “What!” Bridget yelled in surprise and indignation. “But you promised!” <<Indeed I did, but I didn't specify the time, and I don't want to deal with you when you're extra snippy because of the nightmares this will give you. Be grateful I didn't decide to tell you, oh, a century from now>> Val replied, even more smug than usual. You are the most obnoxious alien parasite ever, you know that, right? <<I'm flattered, really>> Suddenly Bridget heard a small but unmistakable thud from upstairs, followed shortly by the pitter-patter of tiny feet on floorboards. Bridget shot up from the chair and ran toward the foot of the stairs, frantic that she'd have to treat bruises, or explain to Mrs. McCullough why her daughter had to be taken to the hospital. As she rounded the corner of the hall and looked up the stairs, cursing her earlier outburst, Bridget saw Breanna, rubbing her tired eyes with her little hand. “Sweetie, are you all right?” she called, voice high and quavering “How did you get over your guardrail?” “Bidgey, I wanna play,” Breanna mumbled blearily. She toddled forward, and grabbed as high as she could for the railing. But the little girl was exhausted, and her hand grabbed empty air. “Don't!” Bridget barely had time to shriek in horror as Breanna began to tumble. Bridget could only reach her arm out helplessly, watching Breanna's head careen toward the hard and unforgiving steps below. In the dim light of the hall and in the midst of a sudden spike of primal terror, the stairs seemed to Bridget like jagged rocks beneath a waterfall, on which Breanna would surely be dashed to pieces. <<No!>> came Val's own frantic thought, but Bridget paid it no heed. She reflexively shut her eyes, to avoid witnessing the terrible moment of impact. Then suddenly, the ice of fear melted in her veins, and Bridget felt as though she was surrounded by a purple void, as vast as the expanse of space. But it was filled, not with murderous cold, but with an incalculable warmth, and that warmth filled her in turn, driving out all the panic that had seized her moments before. It was like being softly embraced and enveloped by a soft blanket from every direction at once. She suddenly felt the pressure of a hand guiding her own, pushing her to reach out, as though grasping something invisible. Without knowing clearly why or how, Bridget understood that she must do as it bade her. She reached out, and clenched her hand into a fist. The world around her changed. In the blink of an eye she was back at the bottom of the stairs. But Breanna was no longer at the top. Nor was she crumpled in a bloody heap at the bottom. Bridget looked up and saw the little girl, floating in midair. Breanna wafted gently like a bubble toward Bridget's outstretched fist, a fist that was outlined in tendrils of glowing purple energy. Bridget was in the middle of absorbing the total impossibility of the scene before her eyes, when she heard Val's voice in her head, no louder than it ever was, but somehow irresistible. <<Pull her into your arms. Reach out to her and bring her toward you. See the necessary force and produce the vectors>> If Bridget had tried to parse what Val was saying with her conscious mind, she might have hesitated or felt uncertainty. But she felt what needed to be done on a far deeper level, as though her body itself understood the physics required and willed them to take place. Breanna floated on a direct diagonal path down the stairs to Bridget, who unclenched her fist, and brought up her hands to grab the little girl. As she did so, Breanna suddenly dropped, but she fell only a few inches before Bridget caught her. As the weight of the toddler fell into her arms, Bridget felt the adrenaline recede, and she sat down on the stairs, stunned. Trying to grasp the impossible thing that had just happened was like trying to lift the whole world with just her pinky finger, her mind tugged a little around the edges of the problem, of the place that she had been that wasn't a place, the light, the peace and warmth, and most of all, the incredible feat she'd just accomplished. She wasn't the girl with powers though, that was Sami, Sami who went to St. Rose's, Sami who shot lasers from her eyes and bashed down steel doors with her bare hands. Besides, she'd always imagined that being like Sami, almost a goddess among lesser mortals, would be more, well, empowering. But all she'd felt was warmth. Well, warmth and safety, which she was pretty sure wasn't how that was supposed to go. Clearly, even if what she'd done was some kind of superpower, she wasn't cut out for using it. Best to stick with what she knew, which at this point was that she had toddler who needed to be put back to bed. Bridget stumbled upstairs, not even registering that Breanna had fallen asleep again in her arms almost as soon as she'd fallen into them. All Bridget could fit into her head at the moment was the next step of her task: Pull back the covers. Place the baby down on the bed. Pull up the sheets. Locate chair. Fall into chair. Watch the baby. Keep watching the baby. Keep watching... Keep watching.... Fortunately for Bridget, there was not much to watch, save the rise and fall of Breanna's chest as she settled into deeper slumber, punctuated only occasionally with tiny snorting snores. The chair that Bridget had slumped down into in her exhaustion was a rocking chair, and it creaked each time she rocked back and forth, as its runners traced a well-worn path in the plush pink carpet, no doubt laid down before by Breanna's parents in their own moments of exhaustion Val, however, was not about to leave Bridget to her peaceful vigil. <<What. Was That? How did you do that?>> Val's mental shouts was a storm of confusion and indignation. If there was one thing she hated, it was being surprised by something she absolutely did not understand, and she seethed with that hatred now. While Bridget had been lost in thought, Val's practiced analytical mind had been turning the event over and over, seeking some explanation for Bridget's ability to manifest powers that by all rights, should be hers and hers alone. And, infuriatingly, had turned up empty Huh? Wasn't that just you doing some alien thing? Bridget would have loaded the words with her usual dose of snark, but she couldn't find her reservoir of snippy comments in the haze that had descended on her brain. <<No, of course not! Do you think that if I had access to MY power, the power that you just demonstrated, that I would have stayed around here on this podunk little blue rock? I could have found myself a ship and been halfway to the Horse-head Nebula by now!>> Bridget found herself oddly calmed by Val's outburst, as though she were doing the freaking out for both of them. It had also shaken her somewhat out of her mental fog. So wait, that kinda voice thing I heard, in that purple void, telling me what to do, that wasn't you commanding me? Bridget asked <<Of course not, you were just floating in our head, and I saw you there. I knew what you needed to do, of course, but you weren't doing anything, so I kept trying to get through to you. I suppose you eventually figured it out, but it certainly wasn't my doing>> But then how did you know what I should do to use your, um, powers or whatever, if you don't know how I did it? <<I..I don't know!>> Val responded bitterly. <<It makes no sense! There shouldn't have even been anything you could have done to use a Voidwalker's powers.>> Yeah, I get that. Maybe, it's just instinct or whatever. I mean there are lots of things like breathing, that people do without consciously thinking about it. Bridget shrugged <<Instinct? That's the most ridiculous explanation I've ever heard. I refuse to countenance suck a lazy solution. A problem like this requires the scientific method!>> If Val had her own mouth, spit would have flown from it as she raged Fine then, we can experiment later, or something. It wasn't that Bridget wasn't curious, but this chair was very soft, and it seemed like a better idea by the moment to jut take a quick nap there and leave Val to fume. <<Hmmmm, yes, that would work. So the beast is asleep and her parents won't be home for almost an hour, correct? >> Val was back to her usual prim demeanor, but with an urgency and enthusiasm that Bridget had never seen before. Well, yeah Bridget yawned but we can't run experiments now. <<No, that's not what I was thinking...>> Val trailed off, apparently lost in thought.. OK, well then why don't we- <<Bridget, go get a set of blocks from the Goodwill bag downstairs.>> Val's voice was suddenly sharp, commanding and assured, as though she were directing one of her research assistants. Wh- bu why? Bridget had been expecting something much more ominous, but the request was so strange that it caught he off guard Val paused a moment before answering. <<We need to re-create the conditions. Unless you'd rather kidnap Breanna so that we can re-create your playing with her and her toys that way?>> Bridget found the smugness of Val's logic as irksome as it was irrefutable. She does have more experience running experiments, Bridget told herself, and it's not stealing if the toys were going to get donated anyway, I guess. Bridget rationally knew that there was almost no chance that anyone would come home while she did as Val asked. But still, she felt like lightning was running through her veins and her hand was white as it gripped the railing of the stairs as she descended. A tiny anxious voice was screaming at her how terrible an idea this was. But once the rustling of the bag reached her ears, Bridget gritted her teeth and dug her hands into bag of stuff. As she did so, there was a loud squeak from a plastic lizard toy that had laired deep within the bag. Bridget's cheeks, which had been growing steadily pinker as she dug through the baby toys, went full code red as she jumped back a little “Goddamn it Val, I look like an idiot.” she grumbled to herself. But, powered by her annoyance, she was able to find the blocks she had been looking for and yank them out without spilling anything else on the floor. Bridget gabbed the blocks to her chest like contraband, and ran them to her bookbag in the kitchen. She shoved them as deep as she could, using “Physics: An Integrated Approach” as camouflage. <<Good girl>> came Val's voice approvingly. Bridget just rolled her eyes. Yeah, sure, whatever. This had better be useful. <<Rest assured, dear, they'll be indispensable,>> Val replied smugly After zipping up her backpack, Bridget returned to her post observing the tiny escape artist, but this time, with no yelling to wake her, Breanna's sleep was calm and undisturbed. The same could not be said for Bridget however, however, who felt again the chill of anxiety that she'd been wrestling with for far too much of the evening already It's not a big deal, it's just a toy, no one will miss it, she told herself, over and over again. But her impromptu mantra had no effect, no matter how many times she repeated it. When she heard the sound of the front door opening an hour and a half later, Bridget nearly jumped out of her skin. She scurried as quietly as she could out of Breanna's room and down the stairs to meet Mrs. McCullough and Caitlyn in the foyer. Both of them looked exhausted. Caitlyn's shoulders drooped and her uniform showed the stains of sweat, and her mother struggled to keep the heavy bag of dance gear from the floor. “Oh, um, hi you two.” Bridget willed herself to sound cheery and totally in-control. She was only moderately successful “Hello dear, I hope the little one didn't give you too much trouble.” Mrs. McCullough unslung her purse and fished through it for her wallet, from which she pulled a clutch of twenty-dollar bills. “Oh, um, no not really. Breanna woke up and somehow managed to escape the bad, but, well, I, uh caught her before she got anywhere too dangerous, and sleep seems to have stuck the second time. <<All technically true. Who's a cute little deceiver?>> “Ugh, I've been after Phillip to get a better guardrail for weeks, Mrs. McCullough said, in a tone that suggested that this was a subject of frequent arguments with her husband. "I'm just glad you were there to stop her getting hurt." Bridget blushed uncontrollably, the cocktail of fear and shame coursing through her heading directly to redden her cheeks. “Oh, um,” she stammered, looking guiltily at the billfold, and thinking of what lay concealed at the bottom of her bag. “That's definitely too much, it wasn't that much trouble at all, really.” “Oh! Well, if you insist,” the older woman replied, surprised, putting one of the twenties back in her wallet. But at lest let me drive you home as thanks. Bridget paled. The thought of spending the entire ride home with Mrs. McCullough, who she was lying to and well, technically robbing, was unbearable. “Nonono!” she said quickly, “You've had a really long day already Sami should be almost done patrolling by now, I'll just call and ask her to pick me up on her way home. It's um, late, I really should go.” Bridget ran into the kitchen to grab her bag, desperately hoping that no sound of wood clacking against wood was audible coming from inside it, as she blew past the mother and daughter. She was out the door so quickly that Mrs. McCullough's last “Thank you again, Bridget de-” was interrupted by the sound of the front door closing at speed. Even once she had made it to the end of the driveway, Bridget felt her hands shaking as she brought out her phone and texted her sister. Fifteen minutes later, as a familiar pair of headlights advanced down the road, Bridget greeted them with a greater gratitude than she ever had before. Chapter 5: A Quick Study When she was in the car, and the house she had just left was receding from view behind her, Bridget finally breathed a sigh of relief. “So, how was the little monster?” Sami asked, once they had made it a few blocks in silence. “Fine,” Bridget replied, doing her best to keep the sullen edge out of her voice. “Oh, that's good, I guess. And hey, you got paid, right” “Uh huh.” The awkward silence descended again, until Sami, ever the one to keep heedlessly bashing away at something long after someone more sensible would have stopped, made another go at conversation. “Hey, so, I'm sorry for what I said earlier.” The words were stilted and hesitant at first, but gained their footing as they gathered steam. “Just because it was inconvenient for me doesn't mean you did anything wrong.” The exasperated sigh that Bridget had started as soon as Sami opened her mouth died on her lips, replaced by a gasp of surprise. “Oh, um sure, yeah, no worries. Thanks for driving me.” Bridget struggled to think of what to say in the face of this unexpected apology, and so she said what she thought was polite. Bridget stared at Sami for a second before she realized that the right shoulder of her sister's costume was torn up and burned. The burnt orange material charred black around a set of four tears that were obviously claw marks, though Bridget shuddered to think of the kind of creature that would have claws like that. “Rough patrol tonight, huh?” Or did Isis just decide you needed a hug from her tiger form?” Sami snorted. "She would, you know. But no, this,” she grimaced looking down in annoyance at the tear in her costume. “was a delightful gift from a Hellblood boss who was extremely unhappy to see the Stalwart Six at the door of his safe house. Of course they waited until I was leading my first patrol to show off their horrible new weapons. But Leanne was happy with our report, and Kendra is looking into where they could be getting the damn things from.” Bridget laughed, imagining how happy Sami's friend and teammate Kendra, or rather, the Stalwart Six's tactician, Overwatch, would be with her basket of chocolates, the team's massive data repository, and a puzzle to solve. “So I guess she won't be coming to the next three of your squad meetings, huh?” “That's a fair bet. By the time she emerges from her cave, Stell might even have forgiven me for wrecking her masterpiece.” Sami smirked, looking down at the torn burnished orange fabric of her costume. “Yeah, just don't wear your old costume in front of her. The last time you did, I could hear her nitpicking every last flaw in it from my room. She went on for ever!” “Oh!”, Sami said, I was able to try out my new catch phrase tonight too!” Bridget looked at Sami seriously and then shouted “I am the Shimmering Nova, The shining light of Justice!” She pointed her finger at the glove box as though it wee an evildoer in need of pummeling. “The one you've been practicing in your room for hours?” she asked, her voice returned to a less gallant volume. “Yes, that one, you little eavesdropper,” Sami mussed Bridget's hair in gentle retaliation for her snark. “Oh, come on I'm pretty sure the entire neighborhood's heard that catch phrase by now.” “Shut up you.” “It's still not as cool as Leanne's.” I mean 'Like a bolt from the blue, I strike for justice!” is just perfect. Bridget found herself doing Leanne's signature finger point into the sky, which looked incredibly cool face to face with a supervillain, but significantly less so sitting in a car next to her sister. “Oh, I didn't realize you were such a fan.” Sami said dryly. “Should I get you her autograph? Sorry I'm not the heir to a century-old line of heroes.” Bridget felt her cheeks going pink at the image of Leanne's face and the derision that would fill her bright blue eyes if she were to hear Bridget make such a lame request. "No, I mean you're cool too, it's just well, Leanne is...she's got a kind of poise, I guess” she finished lamely. “Yeah, I mean she manages the Stalwart Six, and that's no mean feat. Still, I think I could do a pretty good job too. Sami looked at Bridget as though she was expecting her to agree. This is so weird, she thought to herself. Sami never cares what I think. <<Are you serious? That girl's constant, screaming need for affirmation is so loud it hurts. I've had so many lab assistants like her, and without fail, every single one of them always ended up doing something incredibly stupid.>> Val spat bitterly. Sami? Really? Bridget thought back incredulously. I mean yeah, she's a real try-hard, but the only people whose esteem she cares about are her fellow heroes. <<Believe what you like, little one. But I know the type, from vast personal experience>> Bridget shook her head, refocusing on responding to Sami. “I'm sure you would. I mean you saved me.” As she said that, a bitter knot she could neither explain nor untie twisted itself in her stomach. “Thanks, Bebe.” Sami replied But I should really focus on the Stalwart Six before I worry about the future Nova Team, huh?” “Yeah, like wait until you can come up with better names. Nova team, seriously? I thought calling your cape the Nova Mantle was bad.” Bridget stuck out her tongue in mock disgust. “Yeah yeah, everyone's a critic." Sami rolled her eyes, “We're here, so out with you.” The heroine flicked a button, and the door locks clicked open. Bridget looked out the windshield and saw that they were trundling up to the familiar brick facade of home, with its one outside light from above the garage beaming cycloptically down into the chill darkness. Mercifully, her mother had already gone to bed, and her father's car was still nowhere to be seen in the driveway, so nothing impeded Bridget as she headed inside and up the stairs to her room, her childish cargo of baby blocks still safely concealed in her bag. She brushed by Sami in the hall who was halfway to collapsing from exhaustion herself, as usual after one of her long nights spent patrolling the city. Sami called back a goodnight as she headed for the shower, and Bridget breathed a small sigh of relief. When she finally made it to the relative privacy of her own bedroom with its blue walls and ceiling bedecked with glow in the dark stars, only a few of which still had ny glow left in them after seven years, she turned on the light and shut the door. But instead of falling into bed as sh longed to do, she made her way over to the closet, set down her bag, and retrieved the multicolored package of blocks. She found herself smiling at the cute little cartoon tiger on the front, with his big eyes and toothy grin, and all the other little animals that happily played with giant size versions of the blocks contained within. But her moment of amusement was cut off as she remembered the urgent need to hide her childish contraband. She scanned her closet for a pla thence to stash the box of blocks, and found just enough space on the top shelf next to a big clear plastic container packed full to the brim of stuffed animals. Bridget had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the highest shelf, and as she pushed the blocks onto it, years of dust blew up into a tiny cloud, as though annoyed that she had the audacity to disturb it when it had done nothing but lie there peacefully for so long. She let out a little cough, which she frantically covered to muffle the noise. Bridget closed the closet door as quickly as she could, and then listened for a sign that anyone else had heard the noise she'd been making. In several agonizing moments of tension and terror, she heard nothing but the normal creaks of the house at night, and took a deep breath to steady herself. “Even if someone came looking,” she whispered under her breath, “it would look just like any other piece of old junk.” <<Exactly, you have no need to worry, sweetie. Get to sleep, and we'll talk about our first experiment tomorrow>> Trying her best not to worry, Bridget hastened to follow Val's advice, but she found herself compulsively glancing at the closet every minute or two as she completed her evening routine. Her worry lessened once she turned off the light and held her unicorn Gabrielle close, but it wasn't enough to let her sleep. Bridget lay in the dark, all too awake for hours after she'd normally drift off, tossing and turning beneath the faded light of plastic stars. Bridget awoke to a still-dark sky, and a bedside glaring 4:45 in harsh red digits. Even through the bleary cobwebs of her interrupted sleep, she felt anticipation bubbling up in her chest. Today was going to be the day when she started practicing with her newfound powers. Bridget envisioned herself as the star in the center of a solar system of objects, each moving according to her desires, and the warmth of the violet alien power running through her. In the light of the morning, the thrill of the event to come made her previous worries seem pointless. After all, if I have powers, why would I need to be afraid anyone discovering me? she thought to herself <<I'm glad you're excited for science, little one, you're a girl after my own heart. But don't get too impatient, experimentation is slow work. Besides there are extenuating->> Val began But Bridget was lost to Val's words of caution, she was too captivated by the visions that danced in her head of being accepted into the Stalwart Six, which Leanne would gladly expand to the Stalwart Seven. Bridget would spend hours working on plans, devices, and clever stratagems in the command center, plans in which Sami would be nothing more than a brawny battering ram. Bridget's immense powers entitled her to a starring role. Leanne would love them all of course, and when they did patrol, she'd insist on Bridget being paired with her every time. They'd fight shoulder to shoulder again and again, and Bridget would show her exactly how valuable she could be. <<Hmph. Children and their silly ideas.>> Val sulked, realizing that her words of sage advice had gone entirely unheard Bridget was in too good a mood to even offer a snarky reply; she just brushed off her alien passenger's grousing. Look. You want me to learn to use my powers, right? Why don't we start now? We don't even have to use the, um, special materials. No need to dwell on the precise nature of those materials, of course. Bridget sat up in bed, her hair still a tangled mess from where she slept on it the night before. She reached out a hand toward her desk, an toward the pile of her textbooks that stood on its white surface. She willed them to move, to fly to her the way Breanna had. She tried to remember the gentle warmth of the purple void, and moved her hand in the same way as Val had guided it before. Bridget clenched her hand into a fist and pulled. But there was no purple glow around her hand, and the room remained dark, without a trace of the alien energy that had encompassed her so gently and irresistibly last time. Instead she let out a squeak of surprise, as the sudden rapid motion of her arm knocked her off balance, and she fell back into her pillow with a soft but ignominious thud. Irked but undeterred, Bridget got back up and tried again, closing her eyes and trying as hard as she could to recall exactly how she had felt the night before. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, to find the center of her being and pull the power out from within. After a full minute of slow, quiet, breathing, she finally reached as deep within herself as she could, and imagined puling a reservoir of violet energy from within and hurling it toward her desk. But, when she opened her eyes again, Bridget saw the stack of books still sitting there, exactly the way they were before. Ugh! I tried peace and I tried passion, and both were useless!, Bridget complained internally, pounding he pillow with a fist that was, sadly, still devoid of the bright purple energy she'd tried so hard to channel. There's no way I just imagined it, right? <<I did try to warn you it might be harder than you thought.>> Val made no effort to hide her pleasure at being proven right. <<Also, it probably isn't a matter of just thinking about a single thing. I've had all night every night we've been together to do nothing but think, and I haven't been able to move so much as a hair on your little unicorn's head.>> Okay, fine, Bridget said under her breath. We'll do it your way. But I'm going back to sleep. Val, however, was clearly uninterested in how heave Bridget's eyelids suddenly felt, weighed down as they were with the disappointment of her failure. She continued her little lecture, heedless of Bridget's discomfort. <<That said, I don't think you need to worry about having merely imagined our previous success. If you were hallucinating, then I was as well, and voidwalkers aren't so poorly designed as to contain all their mental processes in a single organ that is little more than an electrified sponge.>> Yes, yes, humans are just pitiful monkeys and voidwalkers are just soooooooo superior, blah, blah, blah. If you're going to keep me awake, could you at least come up with some new material? Bridget thought back, sarcastically. Val went silent for a moment, surprised by the irritation in the girl's retort. <<Well, you certainly do seem rather upset from lack of sleep, Bridget dear.>> The echo that usually accompanied Val's thoughts was different pitched a little higher, as though she were trying to cajole Bridget into cooperation now that her usual bluster had met resistance. <<Could you remind me what the sound is that the monkeys whom you're nothing like make?>> Bridget rolled her eyes. You've heard it before obv- wait a second! “You're treating me like Breanna!” she hissed under her breath, doing her best to resist the fog of sleep as it descended again. “I told you, I'm practically an adult, you can't work my own babysitting tricks on me.” <<I'm simply trying to replicate the conditions of our previous success. You had ample opportunity to refuse yesterday if it truly bothered you, but you wisely trusted my instinct for experimentation. You need do nothing more than continue to do so.>> The tone of Val's reply was even and matter-of-fact, shorn of both her usual smugness and any attempt at childish singsong. The alien's manner was as soft as a cinder block, but Bridget found her brusque confidence strangely reassuring. As far as this one problem was concerned, it seemed like she was in good hands and it would get taken care of. Heh, good hands, Bridget thought groggily as she slipped back toward slumber. It's funny 'cause she doesn't have- But Bridget had fallen asleep again before her brain could make its spongy, primate way to the completion of that terrible punchline.

Straight up one time took my large bear who I strapped into a seatbelt and cruised around listening to music. Gotta say people's reactions we're pretty funny.