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I like the 12 month program, there is some interesting concepts in it and I followed it when I was starting. However, it really seems to be a very long long journey in losing the ability to wetting yourself. Which in a sense, is a good thing. You're really going to have to retrain yourself and it takes a long time. What you end up with is some form of PC muscle atrophy and leakage due to weakening the external sphincter. Also keeping things loose down there makes it extremely easy to go in any position, its like retraining muscle memory. I think long term it leads to a thickening of the bladder wall which makes it more difficult to holding fluid as the elasticity starts to go. What you don't get is a never knowing, not feeling it like with a cath. But don't kid yourself, at this stage you're what medical professionals will label as urinary incontinent. If you were to take a test, your bladder will most likely contract violently due to not holding a lot of fluid for a very long time and for sure will contract to expel it. You will feel it to, not pleasant but you won't be able to stop it. I just had something like this happen about a week ago. I woke up to a very full (or thought due to the bulkiness) diaper. As soon as I lifted myself up I could tell right away that I had urine to pass but I was afraid of wetting the bed. In an instant not really thinking it through I could start to feel urine pass when I tried to stop the flow by contracting. Uh, it didn't work, it stopped for maybe a millisecond as I think what was me re-shifting myself off the bed and then continued without a hitch. Wow, talk about realizing that if I was out and about, I would have for sure ending up wetting myself. Or when you think you're going and then it seems like it stopped only to realize and feel more wetness. I can feel large amounts coming out, or what I think are large amounts. This is probably more like 3-4 ounces now, at most. Anything lower, like maybe an ounce has become extremely difficult to feel when voiding. I get more like a vibration of the urine hitting the padding and reverberating back on my penis. There is no way of being able to hold a minimal normal 16 ounces of fluid. To give you an example, if I remember correctly (been awhile), when you void you can feel the bladder contract and I could anyway feel the urine pass through the urethra. Also (for me), I could not for example where a belt or something tight around my abdomen while voiding. Things would have to be loose so to speak, also no erections or would have to wait a bit before being able to go. Now, I can wear tight fitting plastic pants that snug my abdomen and my thighs and pass urine easily without even thinking about it. I do not feel the bladder contracting or the urine passing through the urethra. I can still feel something at the end of my penis but like I said, this is mostly due to the splashing of urine coming out hitting my skin bouncing off the diaper. So some background on my journey. When I started I could: Hold a fairly large amount of urine. Had a shy bladder, like a rock could go up to 8 hours without using the restroom. Could not pass urine with an erection. Did not leak seamen or prefluid. Could hold off on ejaculation for a long time, very strong PC muscles. Never wet the bed or have an accident during the day. Now five years in, that is completely opposite. When I started wearing and finally made the decision, some of the things I remember off the top of my head are: Year 1 I could void a lot of fluid, I didn't end up voiding every 15-30 minutes. When I went, it was a fairly a large volume at once. I had plenty of issues with wearing due to the excitement (fetish) of the diaper itself. No close fitting clothing or plastic pants too tight, could not void sitting down at a 90 angle or laying down. I had to constantly get up at night to void and then return to sleep. Erections were strong and some times painful if the diaper was not loose enough in the crotch area. Constantly worried about leaking. Diaper rash, get use to it cause until the skin gets tough enough, yeah. Year 2 Going easier, but still holding urine. Still could not void sitting down, I would have to use my arms to lift myself off the chair or lean forward/backward to relieve myself. Going while laying down still a challenge, I remember the painful bursting feeling trying to go without anything happening. Still getting up at night to void, either by standing completely up or kneeling on the bed or on all fours to void. When going in public I needed it to be quiet, was not use to just you know, going. Could not go while walking or going up the stairs. Year 3 Voiding amount has been reduced, at this point large amount no longer happen. I can still feel it coming out and for sure remember getting bladder pains if holding to long. It's around year 2-3 that I could finally stop feeling the constantly want to contract during voiding. The contraction you'd feel at the bottom of your penis where the PC/external sphincter is trying to control the flow. Almost from the start I had tried not to force anything out or closing this sphincter after stopping. I could kinda go in a chair, I would have to lean to one side or another. Had to be cushioned though. Getting better at laying down, but I had to be on my back. Still would not void on my side. I did start having or realizing that I was wetting during my sleep. There was also points here when I changed myself that there would easily be drops coming out during changing. Year 4 Around this time things started to become much easier in going all the time. I think year 3 was a crucial year in that this was probably the turning point. I could still somewhat retain but I found if I became sick (cold), I would loose everything and experience incontinence. This is also the time when I could go a lot longer with diapers and changing since the void amount was a lot smaller. Would give plenty of time for the diaper to absorb and not leak. Matter of fact, I don't remember leaking at all in year 4. I started to forget how to do certain tasks down there. I realized I couldn't figure out what to do to squeeze the last drops out. Erections by now were a lot weaker. I would have problems with playing with myself if it lasted more that 20 minutes in the fact I could feel I needed to go. Diapers could get a bit more snug but not too much. Going while laying down now works, sometimes still having to concentrate on relaxing the entire body. Year 5 Around the transition from year 4-5 I lost that bladder feeling. Now I get a "going now" and it just comes out. Started wearing thicker diapers as they can last a lot longer and the need for them. There is no way of being able to wear underwear at this point, I would have an accident for sure and probably wouldn't even notice it. Temperature change causes me to void, I need to wear some type of protection getting out of the shower or I'll ruin the rugs. A few brief strokes/tugs of my very sensitive penis will cause ejaculation. Since I no longer contract the external sphincter which controls/helps the prostate. Can go while having an erection as well. This is a very weird feeling. Mostly if playing around I will be sitting on a diaper as for sure I will start going. Standing, walking, talking, laying down, even upside down I can go. I don't think about it at all pretty much, I couldn't even tell you how many times I void in a day, but it has to be around 20ish? Any irritants to the bladder will cause immediate voiding, much quicker than normal. For instance, drinking coffee. Can wear anything at this point and snug as possible, there is no more needing to relax or loosening the belt area. In order to achieve this, I make sure I drink fluids all through the day to stay hydrated. I always had made sure to void before going to sleep (when I could feel it). I did listen to hypno files, and although I don't think they put a spell on me, they are encouraging, kinda like how like minded people here helping each other along. I never once wore underwear. I kept them around in the attic for about three years and then finally decided to just throw them out, which is now funny because I just now bought some, but for use with pads when I work out (for about an hour's worth tops). I now wear bodysuits almost all the time to keep from diaper sag. I don't care what anyone thinks, I have never been confronted about it and I've never seen anyone look. Honestly, I don't care about that either, lol. I've changed sheets more than I can think until I got a good routine down, still have the occasional leak. I have noticed, most likely due to drinking all the time and voiding, I have a much better skin complexion and my sickness time is much shorter. Most likely to passing the virus through quicker and not becoming dehydrated, which can prolong a cold.

I'd like to talk to my boyfriend about a set of toilet rules. Since I already wear pretty much 24/7, I'd like part of our big/little dynamic to make the toilet off limits. If I had to make a set of rules, they'd be similar to this: 1. I am to be diapered at all times at home, and only use diapers at home for everything. #1 and #2. No toilet allowed! 2. Toilets may only be used at work, where I will wear pullups. I may change into diapers at anytime at work if I want. 3. Diapers must be worn when out, including when out with friends, and used as intended. 4. I am subject to diaper checks and changes at will, and will wear the kind of diapers my big wants me to.

The Asylum at the End of Reality. Jenna Jennerick rocked back and forth in her cell, a narrow beam of into her dark and padded room. Any minute now, like clockwork, they’d come for her. It happened at the same time every day. She could tell by the sun. Any moment now, the routine insanity would start all over again. First they’d come into her cell and pin her down as she thrashed. It wasn’t hard for them, they were professional man-handlers, or “orderlies” as they called them around here, and she was wearing a straightjacket. The only time when she wasn’t wearing a straightjacket was at bath time, and even then she was strapped down, as a nurse rubbed her down from head to toe with a warm wet sponge. On average she maybe had two precious minutes of being able to move her arms a week. The walls themselves were padded, so no amount of roughhousing or struggling in her cell would likely result in her harm. She was a prisoner here, and even bodily injury or death would not be given as a means of escape. The rational part of her brain told her…actually that’s not fair…all of her brain was rational. The defeatist part of her brain told her that she should stop struggling, but it was during those brief moments of rebellion that she actually felt a little bit alive, that hope could flare up, however futile. She’d beg them to release her. They’d ignore her pleas, and if she was lucky she wouldn’t be gagged. Then they’d change her diaper. Yes, she wore a diaper; these fascists wouldn’t even allow her the basic decency of a toilet. It was one of the numerous indignities forced upon her to try to get her to break. To try to drive her into madness. She’d had her ass wiped for her so many times, she’d lost count, by now. So she was in a padded room in more ways than one, it seemed. Her life had become padding. The first time she thought of that, she had laughed mirthlessly. No doubt someone online was jerking off to that very thought; even as it materialized as words on a fetish blog somewhere. Then, she’d be strapped to a gurney- and force fed pureed, nearly tasteless mush, all while mocking her helplessness. Then, something in the mush would make her weak. thought to hear the orderlies talk, she might expect a highchair any day. They would not break her though. Because she knew the truth. That’s why she was trapped here to begin with. She knew the truth, and she couldn’t be allowed to spread it. She first became aware of the truth a few weeks ago, or was it months? It was so hard to track the passage of time, with only feedings, diaper changes, sponge baths, and the occasional shock therapy session to wittle away the hours. The point is, before she learned the truth, she would have seemed incredibly out of place in an asylum and never would have even picture herself padded and surrounded by padding as she was now. Such a thing would have been far too extraordinary, and Jenna was anything but extraordinary. Jenna Jennerick was almost completely average. This should hardly be surprising. Most people think that they are average or perhaps just a little bit above average; unless they are particularly conceited or have self-esteem issues. In Jenna’s case, however, it was true. She would be right in the middle of the bell curve on most things. Average girl. Average student. Average grades. Average looks. The only thing that may have made her stand out from the crowd was something that one could not see just by looking at her; so in other words it didn’t stand out. Jenna was a pervert; a diaper fetishist. She didn’t have a facetome page, or twit on tweeter, or send anything via immedigram or blinkchat, but she practically lived on sites like offenderart and kinkworld. She knew more about various forms of kink than current events. But alas, being average, she lacked the resources, courage, or privacy to fully indulge in her fantasies. It was through naughty pictures and dirty stories that she lived vicariously. It was on that fateful day, the day she discovered the truth, while studying for a midterm at the library, that she got a particular itch. She was bored. She was antsy. She really didn’t want to study for the midterm. Porn. She needed it. Badly. She held up her phone to see if she could scan some kinkworld feed in her lap while she pretended to read what felt like the third reference book that the library wouldn’t let her check out. Damn. Her phone was dead. Should have remembered to charge it last night. That’s when she turned to the last refuge of the perverted addict: Smut in the library. Now, Jenna Jennerick was average, and that also meant she wasn’t obscenely stupid in most cases. Going to a site like squishypencil would get noticed and get her kicked out of the library before she could blink. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have other options. She went onto theforbiddenstory.com., a story site that catered to most every legal form of smut imaginable. Jenna had been walked in on multiple times by her parents over the years, yet not outed due to the tiny font and the lack of any pictures. The site was a chameleon of kink. The homepage of the site loaded up. Jenna frowned, slightly. According to the most recent update, the site was shutting down. The owner couldn’t afford the upkeep and today was going to be the last day the servers were operational. Well, that was a shame. She liked “theforbiddenstory.com”. It was a good story site. But what were you gonna do? In what she’d foolishly attribute to a sense of nostalgia, Jenna went on one last time into the AB/DL discussion chatroom to say a final goodbye. She didn’t bother logging in to her own usual screen name, and instead just lurked as a guest. It didn’t look like any name she recognized was still online. Just her and someone called… “Padded_Patient: help”, a message came up on her screen. “Guest01: Who is this?” Jenna asked. A last call for a donation to save the site or something? No thanks. “Padded_Patient: cant tok help” the reply came back. Great. No punctuation. Poor spelling. This guy sounded like a creeper, already. Any minute she’d be reading something like “I got turnd into a widdle baby, will u b my momy”. This is why she never went onto the roleplay threads on sites like these. Still some pathetic, naïve, bleeding heart piece of her soul wanted to confirm her suspicion instead of leave some poor lost soul flapping in the wind. “Guest01: With what?” She typed back. “Padded_Patient: trapd n dprs call 911”. Aaaaand it was definitely a horny net geek. She wasn’t leaving someone flapping in the wind. Some douche wanted to talk to her so he could go fapping in the…in the…okay she wasn’t that clever, but the play on words was there somewhere. “Guest01: Is this roleplay?” Jenna replied. “If so, not interested. You look like you’re typing with one hand, anyways.” Her experiences online had told her that she was about to be called a bitch by some poor virgin “nice guy”, or that- “Padded_Patient: no im trapd hlp” the ding of the reply interrupted another one of Jenna’s witty remarks. Yup…he was a persistent one. No point in staying around and enjoying the story archive if this was the only company she’d have left. If she was on much longer, some librarian would likely look over her shoulder and see too much as it was. “Guest01: Bye Felicia!” Jenna typed in, her mouse hovering over the “x” to log out. That’s when another picture filled the computer screen. It was hastily taken, but it looked real enough. Holy shit! It was a woman. It was hard to tell what she looked like. The lighting wasn’t the best, and only a dainty chin managed to get in the frame, but there was no mistaking those curves. There also was no mistaking what the woman was apparently wearing: A straightjacket and an adult diaper. Jenna’s jaw dropped and she felt a little tingle down below. She had seen drawings of these, but never real life pictures of this kind of thing. It even looked like the walls in the background were padded. “Padded_Patient: Duz dis look fak 2 u?” Jenna read. Jenna looked around the library, guiltily. Had she been in her room at home, she would have started to play with herself right then and there. “Guest01: Holy shit! That’s hardcore!” she quickly typed in. “But I think you’re on the wrong site. I know some good ones for stuff like this if you want.” Even the ding of the next reply sounded desperate. “Padded_Patient: plz help dey thnk crazy cant end it dis way” “Guest01: Okay, I’ll play along,” Jenna bit her lip and grinned. “Where are you?” A single word came back on the screen in answer. “Padded_Patient: asylum” it read. Well duh. Jenna looked to her left and right. She felt so edgy doing this kind of thing here, in the library of all places. “Guest01: Asylum?” she wrote, “They still have those? Kinky” “Padded_Patient: not jk but yes”. Came the response in the chat box. This girl was committed to the role, Jenna had to admit that. Heh…committed. How had she managed to type with the straight jacket on anyways? Jenna looked down at her sandals and wiggled her toes. She supposed if she had to she could manage it in a pinch. “Guest01: Okay, I’ll play along. Where?” Jenna asked. “Padded_Patient: net” “Guest01: The internet? How’d you get there?” “Padded_Patient: crumbs”. Crumbs? Crumbs? What a terrible joke. This chick got to the asylum in the internet by following crumbs from a message board? And that’s how Jenna officially lost any thrill she might have gained from this bothersome exchange. This roleplay was getting way too cerebral in her opinion. Who ever heard of an asylum in the internet anyways? This is why she didn’t do private chats, too many people too caught up in their own shit and their own strange kinks. Still, she couldn’t help but be polite. “Guest01: Haha!” Jenna wrote before logging off, “I get it. Look, I’m in the library, I can’t rp right now. But if I see any crumbs, I’ll follow them.” And then she clicked the “x” in the upper right hand corner of the computer screen. Jenna shook her head as she put the reference books back on the shelves where she found them. Today was no day for studying, it seemed. There was no way she’d be able to keep her mind on her midterms at this rate. She had a few days left to cram, regardless. She could afford to waste today and she’d still likely end up breaking even. A “C” might not be the perfect or most desirable grade, but the course she’d been studying for wasn’t part of her major anyways. Jenna walked to the bus stop and waited. And waited. And waited. After what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to ten minutes, Jenna reached into her pocket and looked at her phone. She sighed as she remembered that her phone was dead. The bus had to be running late. She sighed, slipping the useless plastic rectangle back in her pocket, when she heard the distinct sounds of cheerful chirping behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Rather than one bird, she saw an entire flock pecking at the ground behind her. Blue birds, red birds, black birds, and yellow birds. All of them voraciously pecking at a feast at their feet. A feast of- “Crumbs,” Jenna gasped. The word, even whispered from her lips sent the bouquet of birds skyward into the air. A thin trail of crumbs lay on the ground, making a trail that led right into a worn and wooded walking path in the park. “Well,” Jenna said, knowing providence when she saw it, “a promise is a promise.” Jenna followed the trail, leaving the safety of asphalt and concrete and followed the breadcrumbs onto dirt and trees, carefully stepping over exposed roots and fallen branches as she went. As she followed the literal trail of breadcrumbs, Jenna felt a surge of excitement. She felt like the two children from that one fairy tale. Why did that sound so familiar to her? So relevant? There was a subtle shift in the air, like crossing a threshold, as she followed the trail of breadcrumbs. Jenna was broken from her trance of following the crumbs when she heard the slightest crackle of thunder above her. How odd. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when she had left the library. Jenna looked up and only had leaves and branches to look at. The sky was lost to her for the time being. She looked back over her shoulder, only to realize that she no longer knew where she was. Birds skittered around behind her, eating her lifeline back to the bus stop. Nothing left to do but to head on and find this “Padded_Patient”. The trees thinned out as Jenna walked on. Soon, Jenna came to an open clearing, and instinctively, like a swimmer coming up for air, her neck craned skyward. The same blue sky greeted her, and although it was still obviously daylight, she couldn’t quite place the sun. A brief flash flickered in the blank sky as Jenna stared upward. It wasn’t quite lightning, but there was definitely something electric about it. There was also something off about the color of the sky itself, but Jenna couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It was blue, but it was almost too blue. Jenna lowered her gaze to the ground and noticed that she was out of bread crumbs. Wherever she was meant to be, she had arrived. Off in the distance, Jenna spied a large building. It looked big and imposing even from this distance; at least several stories tall. With a path obscured behind her, and only this giant penitentiary like building on the horizon, Jenna walked forward till the building came into better focus. The grass of the clearing crunched beneath her shoes, and she looked down to examine it more closely. Like the sky, it too seemed off. It was green, but it unnaturally so. There were no variations of color among the different blades of grass. No imperfections and differentiation among the individual scraps. Each blade of grass was exactly and perfectly identical to its sibling beside it, and there was something wrong about that. If anything, Jenna pondered, the ground beneath her feet was closer to longer and softer astro-turf than even the most perfect and precisely trimmed. The building became clearer as she neared it. It was big, and blocky, and Jenna could make out windows with bars on them, like it was some kind of prison. But if it was a prison, why was there no guards in sight or fences with barbed wire; y’know, the stuff that you see in the movies? It was painted white; perhaps even too white. It was as if the walls themselves, even though made out of some kind of concrete or stone, had never had to weather the elements. There was definitely an element of “uncanny valley” about this entire place. As Jenna looked ahead at the building in front of her, she began to recognize that she wasn’t the only person here. People in hospital gowns and slippers shuffled on the front lawn, like zombies in search of human flesh. They meandered about aimlessly, neither seeing nor sensing what was going on right in front of their very eyes. Was this some kind of hospital? “Hello?” Jenna called out as she wandered into the shambling sea of people. “Is there anyone here who can help me? I’m a little lost, and I could use a phone. My cell phone is dead.” The patients in their gowns- some of them moaning, some of them groaning, some of them drooling, some with little patches of their scalp shaved bald, walked right by her. She might as well have been a ghost. “Is there a doctor here? I’ve gotten lost and my cell phone is dead.” “No it’s not,” A voice called out. “It’s just never been written as being turned on before.” Jenna followed the voice to the front porch of the building. A strange man dressed in even stranger attire stood before her. He wore a gray fedora over his eyes, with a yellow button up shirt and a black tie dangling loosely from his neck. His gray loafers matched his hat, while his yellow socks complimented the shirt, nicely. He leaned against the wooden door, sucking on a lollipop with all the seriousness of taking a drag on a cigarette. If it weren’t for the puffy white diaper between his legs, he would have looked at home in a cheesy gangster movie, instead of a hospital or prison, or whatever this place was. No matter what, he looked objectively ridiculous. This wasn’t a prison or a hospital, Jenna concluded. This was an insane asylum. And the guy in the diaper definitely belonged here. “Um,” Jenna called back to him, weary to step forward. “Is there a doctor around? Maybe a nurse?” “Oh, you’ll meet them, given time,” the stranger called back. “But come on in, we’ll have a talk.” The stranger wrapped on the door behind him and it opened a crack, allowing him to slip inside. Jenna lost sight of the lunatic for a moment before he poked his head back out. “Oh, and don’t worry about the clothes,” he called out to her. You won’t need them anymore. Then he slipped his head back in. “What in the hell was that all about?” Jenna wondered aloud . Guy must be nuttier than a fruitcake and some kind of sex creeper to…boob? Boob! Boobs! Jenna caught sight of fully naked, bare breasts. Her own to be exact. The sudden draft enveloping her confirmed that she was completely naked from head to toe. “Ieee!” She screamed, dashing for the front door, following the stranger in the diaper. She couldn’t stand to be out in the open and so vulnerable, even if the only other people were shuffling mental cases who didn’t even register her as being there. Jenna was panting from panic and excitement as she slammed the door behind her, a cold, nervous sweat breaking out across her brow. She was still naked, but was inside at least. “Come on in,” the voice of the stranger greeted. “The crazy’s fine.” Jenna looked for the source of the voice, but only a singular hallway that branched off into a “T” at the end could be seen. Covering herself as best as she could, Jenna followed the hallway. She went right at the end of the hallway. “Good choice,” the stranger complimented her. “I thought you were going to go left for a second, but wait…no I didn’t. The point is, enjoy this walk, stretch your legs, stretch your arms, take a look around, smell the roses.” Jenna took in the surroundings as she followed the stranger’s voice. As she walked down the corridor she noticed the cells in the asylum lining the walls, all blocked off by glass walls. It was rather like a zoo. Each of the rooms had but a single occupant staring out at her, all of them occupying themselves or engaging in some display of madness or another. One was cutting themselves. One was tied up completely in rope and suspended from the ceiling. One flicked a lighter on and off under the palm of their hands. One was choking themselves with a rope while they masturbated. On and on the menagerie of madness went. The passage ways began to twist and turn, with Jenna keeping dutiful note of each turn she made. Right, left, right, right again, left, straight at the cross section, right. “Keep going, Jenna, we’re just building atmosphere here,” the stranger beckoned. “The main event is yet to occur.” It sounded louder, this time. She was getting closer. The logical part of her brain knew that this wasn’t how asylums actually operated. There was no practical reason to allow a mad woman to stomp around barefoot on rotted fruit, yet the cell she just passed held exactly that. “Oh, so close to enlightenment,” the stranger’s voice told her. “So close.” It then occurred to her that many of these people didn’t seem all that mad. A lot, if not all of the activities reminded her of various kinks. “Correct,” the stranger said as if reading her thoughts. “Now just take that last step.” She had started this journey looking through one of her kink sites. This was somehow all connected to kink. “And now we’re there.” Jenna stopped and looked to the cell on her left. Somehow, the diapered man in the fedora had managed to get behind thick glass and waited in his own cell. It wasn’t a padded room like the rest. In fact it looked a bit like a weird cross between a detective’s office and a nursery. Jenna saw a thick wooden desk and a coatrack in one corner of the tiny room, while an oversized highchair with a typewriter on the tray was in another. “Have you figured it out yet?” the diapered man asked, leaning against the glass. “Yeah,” Jenna said. “This is some kind of kink party, right? It’s not really an asylum.” “Ooooh,” the man sucked in his breath. “So close, yet so far. This is an asylum, Jenna. It’s just not a real asylum. But that’s okay, because you’re not a real person.” “Get serious,” Jenna said blankly. Maybe this wasn’t a proper asylum, but this creep was definitely crazy if he believed what he was saying. “Alright,” the man behind the glass nodded. “Let’s get serious, Jenna. How do I know you’re name?” “Stalker,” Jenna shrugged. “How else would you know that?” “Fair enough,” the man shrugged back. “Tell me something that I wouldn’t know about you. Like what’s your middle name?” “I…” Jenna stumbled for words. “Don’t have one.” “Then what are your parents’ names?” “…Mom and Dad?” “How old are you?” “I don’t…twenty-something…?” “Your birthday?” “I…” “What major are you in college?” “I…” “What college do you even attend?” “Uh…” “What state are we in?” “I…” Jenna paused. “I…don’t…know. I don’t know.” “That’s because you’re not real in the strictest sense, Jenna.” The diapered man walked over to the typewriter on the giant high chair. He pulled out a sheet of paper from the typewriter and walked back over to the glass. “You only know, say, and feel what has been written.” As if to prove a point, he pressed the paper against the glass so that Jenna could read it. Jenna’s jaw hung open as every word she had just exchanged with the diapered man was displayed in front of her in plain black and white. “You’re…you’re the padded patient.” She whispered in realization. “You brought me here.” “I’m not the padded patient,” the diapered man smirked. “But I did bring you here in a sense. I’m the writer. Or at least an aspect of him. You however, you just learned the truth.” Jenna began shaking as and tearing up right as she read the words “Jenna began shaking and tearing up right as she read the words” “Hope you like internet kink stories, Jenna Jennerick,” the writer chuckled grimly while he took the piece of paper away. “You’re in one.” “But…but…but…” Jenna stuttered for words, trying to find something, anything to contradict what the writer was saying. Why didn’t she know her parents’ name? Or her actual age? Or her college degree? “I’m sorry I didn’t flesh you out terribly well,” the writer said. “The lack of detail was necessary to make you realize the truth about yourself. If I had put that kind of detail into you, made you seem too real, you might not have noticed the difference. I’m kind of going through a bit of an experimental phase.” Why?” Jenna asked. “Why me?” “I was bored,” the writer shrugged. “If it makes you feel any better, most people would have an existential crisis upon learning that they’re a character in an internet kink story. I don’t think that’s too far-fetched, do you?” “Hey!” A voice called out from the other end of the corridor. “Stop right there!” Nice young men in clean white coats were pointing at her and started to walk hastily in her direction. They were coming to take her away, she knew. “This would be the good part,” the diapered man smirked. “Go on,” he told her. “Run. Make it decent, but not too long. The reader might be skipping over this part this very moment just so they can get to the good part. Go!” With no other evident choice, Jenna ran. The slapping sound of her bare feet pounding against the cold concrete floor contrasted with the clattering footfalls of the men in white coats chasing after her. “She’s getting away!” The voices hollered after her. “Stop her!” Panicked and panting, she did her best to retrace her footsteps to get to the front exit. The bizarre parody pastiche of cardboard cutout kink characters all hooted and hollered at her from their cells as she sprinted through the corridors of this fictional madhouse. Jenna didn’t even bother to look behind her. If she did, she would likely stumble and fall, and then she would be caught and diapered. That’s how it had worked in all the stories she had read anyways. Instead, she forged ahead, retracing the Left. Straight back at the cross section. Right. Left. Left again. Right. Left. Just like the way she came, but backwards in reverse. The door! Jenna saw the door straight ahead. Freedom, freedom at last! Jenna ran full out the final few yards, barreling ahead. She ran straight into a brick wall. Literally. Jenna lay on the floor, dizzy and in agony, her head pounding while the fluorescent lights above her buzzed and swayed in refracting visual echoes. “I never said it was realistic fiction, did I?” the writer’s voice echoed in her brain while two men in white coats picked Jenna off the floor and dragged her naked body back down the corridors, her heels dragging on the floor. “Got her!” One of the orderlies called back through the halls. “Let’s prep her. This time, they took a left at the first turn. “Helllp, meeee….” she moaned quietly, unsure of exactly how loud she was talking. “We will, sweetie,” one of the orderlies told her, not unkindly. “By the time you get out of here, you’ll be all better. We just need to get you ready for your stay.” Two double doors opened up and. Jenna was facing the wrong way so she couldn’t read the sign indicating where she was going. Her bare back pressed against a cool metal slab- some kind of operating table- and her hands were cuffed into sturdy restraints. The world was just beginning to stop spinning by the time a strap was being pulled across her chest. “Let me go,” she demanded. More people were coming into the room, these ones wearing surgical masks. “Let me go!” she repeated herself more forcefully. They ignored her. “This isn’t how my story is supposed to go! Please!” she began to plead. Still, the nurses and orderlies ignored her, wheeling over strange looking and complicated machinery. What was going to happen? What were they going to do to her? A lobotomy? Some kind of surgery? Amputation to prevent escape? What dark depraved things might some sicko on a typewriter be about to make these people do to her? Then she caught a glimpse of a nurse walking by holding something white, rectangular and plastic backed. Diapers. Of course it was diapers. Despite herself, Jenna sighed involuntarily. At least it was diapers. She liked diapers well enough. She could deal with diapers. Then she frowned at the idea. Did she really like diapers? Or did she just like it because she was actually a fictional character designed to promote a fetish? A gloved hand shoved a pill in her mouth and then covered her lips. “Shhhh, just let it happen,” the nurse said, rubbing Jenna’s throat with her forefinger. “It’s medicine.” A male orderly came in and pinched Jenna’s nose, just in case. Jenna swallowed the pill. She had no idea what she had just swallowed, what it would do or when it would do it. “Good girl,” the nurse said. Jenna didn’t even have time to eek out a reply or a question before a ball gag was shoved rudely in her mouth, practically prying her jaw open. The nurse with the diaper came and lifted Jenna’s legs into the air. Whether it was because the nurse was strong or because something in the pill Jenna had been force fed made her suddenly week, Jenna was unable to resist as her bum was lifted up and then set down on an unfolded diaper. Jenna moaned into her gag- it was all she could do- as the nurse slid another pill inside Jenna, this time from the other ends. The stinging sensation of several quick spanks caused Jenna’s buttocks to instinctively clench down accepting whatever horrible concoction she was being violated with. “There we go,” Jenna heard someone say as the diaper was pulled up between her legs and taped into place. “Now for the fun part.” Two little wands touched Jenna at the temples. “Clear!” White hot lightning coursed through Jenna’s brain causing her to convulse and shudder on the cold metal table. Her mind reeling in unimaginable pain. Was she dying? Was this what dying was like? Her new diaper suddenly became wet as her muscles spasmed, the contents of her body voiding into the waiting incontinence brief. Some part of Jenna’s brain, the part of her that was rational and protecting herself by distancing her from what was just now happening remembered a little factoid. Shock therapy didn’t hurt, according to everyone who knew about it outside of fiction. Because she was fictional and a degree of humiliation and pain was called for at this point in the story. What other reason could there be? “We’ll change her later,” she heard a voice said as she shook on the table, naked save for her wet diaper. The restraints were removed. She was in no position to properly resist. That would come later, she realized. The struggling, the force feeding. The diaper changes. All of that would come later until they had broken her. A flash of off-white blocked her vision briefly as a straightjacket was pulled over her head and her arms being guided. The world was just starting to settle down and the electric static in her head was calming down into a smooth sizzle as her arms were pulled securely across her body. From there, it was a short trip to a dark and padded room. It wasn’t as well lit, as the cells she had passed on her way in. Those were for the ones who had already broken and been conditioned, she instinctively knew. Until then, this is where they’d keep her. “Welcome home,” they said before slamming her cell door shut. And that’s how it had been ever since. Jenna had been stuck there, unable to do anything save use her diapers and struggle briefly when the team of orderlies came to feed her, change her, and occasionally bathe her. She sat, stewing in her own diaper. It’d only be an hour or so, maybe a little more before she’d do this dance again. That’s when the door opened up to her. Instead of the usual team of burly thugs there to punish here, an Asian man in a lab coat walked in. He was holding a laptop in his hands. He only said two words: “For you.” He slowly, carefully, placed the laptop on the ground, never looking away from Jenna. It was as if she were a poisonous snake to him. As if she were the dangerous one. Then, still not taking his eyes off of her. He backed away and shut the door. Jenna waited once he was gone before scooting over to the laptop. Was this some kind of trick? Some kind of trap? What kind of villain (and this place was the villain, make no mistake about that), would give their prisoner anything that could help them connect with the outside world? Perhaps the computer had some kind of brainwashing program that would melt her resistance away. She’d read stories like that. It was possible. Anything was possible. This wasn’t real. Still, it was unlikely that Jenna was ever going to get a chance like this again. With trembling, clumsy toes, she turned on the laptop, and went to the only places that had mattered to her; her old fetish websites. Websites so fake sounding they probably didn’t exist in the real world. She didn’t have facetome, or blinkchat, or immedigram, or tweeter, or any of the other possibly off-brand names of real social media websites. The only place where she talked to people were on these kind of websites; where people were more likely to talk about diapers than politics or news or whatever it was you were supposed to do on the internet. It was a character flaw, she realized, built into the story to keep her isolated so that no one would miss her. Jenna smiled all the same. These idiots were giving her the very tools she needed to escape. She would have her happy ending after all. Her story would end with “And she escaped, straightjacket flying off into the wind…” Granted, it’d take a few more steps after this; she’d have to convince a rescuer and get them involved and have them sneak in to rescue her, just as she had been foolhardy enough to try and rescue someone else, but it was still doable. Maybe she was a character in a kinky novella instead of a smutty short story. Who could tell? But she could set things in motion, at least. It wasn’t a perfect plan, after all, as it turns out. Squishypencil, Yiffenthusiasm, and Kinkworld were all blocked on the laptop. She couldn’t even pull up Offenderart. It figured that they’d lock all the good porn. After every fetish site she knew of came up blocked, she went back to “theforbiddenstory.com” as a last resort, hoping and praying that she had misread the message about the shutdown those many weeks ago. It wasn’t technically a porno site, as much as it was a “story site”, so hopefully any kind of blocking or parent program wouldn’t register it. To Jenna’s happy surprise, it seemed to still be up and working…and she was already logged in, but not under her usual screenname. Someone had used this laptop before, another fetishist no doubt, and they were still logged in. The name in the upper right hand corner of the screen “Padded_Patient”. This was the exact same screen name that had started this whole mess. It figured that the Asylum would have some kind of communal laptop, but how bad was it that she was now effectively the person she had come to rescue? She went to the old chatroom and typed with her feet: “Padded_Patient: help” She would have typed more, but clacking away at the keyboard with her toes, no matter how dexterous they were, was no easy feat. Better to keep it short and sweet and use as few letters as possible. There was nothing at first. No friendly ping to let her know her message had been seen. Then, just as she was about to lose hope; just when she swore that the orderlies would come back and take her window to the outside world, another name popped up. “Guest01: Who is this?” Great, another lurker, just like she had been. Better than nothing. Maybe she’d get lucky this time. “Padded_Patient: cant tok help” she clumsily plonked out on the keyboard. “Guest01: With what?” Her one window to the world typed back. “Padded_Patient: trapd n dprs call 911”. How simple could that be? Even in a fictional story, the cops still worked like the cops. Even a dumbass fap master knew how to write “And then the cops broke down the door and rescued the poor diapered girl.” If she knew her tropes, (and she did) she’d probably end up permanently incontinent and needing to always be diapered, but she could live with that as a “happily ever after”. It was as close to a fair ending as she was likely going to get. “Guest01: Is this roleplay?” the source of her salvation typed back. “If so, not interested. You look like you’re typing with one hand, anyways.” Jenna grunted in frustration. Hopefully that was the only reason she was grunting. Total incontinence happened so much faster than normal in these types of stories. “Padded_Patient: no im trapd hlp” She didn’t have time to be eloquent or verbose or well written. She needed help and she needed it now. “Guest01: Bye Felicia!” came the reply. Shit! This stranger didn’t believe her! This couldn’t be her fate! This couldn’t be how her story ended! Could it? Hurriedly, Jenna leaned back and managed to take a picture of herself with the webcam before quickly sending it. In her panic she got the framing all wrong. She couldn’t manage to get her face in, only the bottom of her chin and a few strands of disheveled hair made it into the picture; but anyone could clearly see that she was wearing a straightjacket and a diaper. “Padded_Patient: Duz dis look fak 2 u?” she posted. “Guest01: Holy shit! That’s hardcore!” the reply came. “But I think you’re on the wrong site. I know some good ones for stuff like this if you want.” “Padded_Patient: plz help” Jenna typed back, losing patience. “dey thnk crazy cant end it dis way” “Guest01: Okay, I’ll play along,” the computer dinged. “Where are you?” With careful and deliberate speed, Jenna sent out her response. She had to get this right. “Padded_Patient: asylum” “Guest01: Asylum? They still have those? Kinky” Jenna rolled her eyes in frustration. How could this girl be so dense? It was like she was just a character in a…oh yeah, she probably was that dense. That’s probably how Jenna realized the person on the other end of the line was a girl, too. It just fit the tropes of the story she was in. Jenna took a deep breath and carefully typed in, “Padded_Patient: not jk but yes”. A few tense moments went by before the computer pinged again. “Guest01: Okay, I’ll play along. Where?” Now came the hard part. Now came telling the truth. Hope she believed it. “Padded_Patient: net" “Guest01: The internet? How’d you get there?” “Padded_Patient: crumbs” “Guest01: Haha! I get it. Look, I’m in the library, I can’t rp right now. But if I see any crumbs, I’ll follow them.” It was only then that the strange familiarity of this incident came front in center. The shock therapy had addled her memory enough that she only now realized that she had had this exact same exchange once before, but on the other side of the monitor. Her eyes glanced at the date on the chat. How could that be? According to the timestamp on “theforbiddenstory.com” It was…it was…it was the exact date that she had wandered out of the library and onto that path of breadcrumbs. Somehow, through no conceivable method that she knew of, she was talking to her past self. “Padded_Patient: stop,“ Jenna typed, but “Guest01” had already logged off, well onto her journey into the waiting truth and diapered imprisonment that she had now endured for God knows how long. She screamed and gave up; hot tears flooding down her face and hot urine filling her diaper, saturating it to the point of leaking. It ended where it all began. How typical. How fucking typical…No one escaped these fetish stories; because the people reading them didn’t want to escape. She was the escape. At best, some hack writer would steal some old Stephen King trope and make an endless cycle of suffering. She was going to doom herself in reaching out for her salvation. Somewhere, a universe away, the writer woke up with a start and looked around. He was home. It was the middle of the night. His wife snored peacefully beside him. His cock was at half-mast; that magical, frustrating line between arousal and disappointment. He remembered having the dream, but like so many dreams, it was all stardust and half-remembered nonsense by the time his lids shot open. Worse yet, he had to pee. He wasn’t diapered tonight- not in the waking world at least- and while he was still groggy enough to roll over and go back to sleep, he knew that he wouldn’t be particularly comfortable, so the few hours he had remaining would be wasted. In the end, practicality won out over lethargy. One of these nights, he pondered as the toilet flush echoed in the bathroom, he’d accidentally wet the bed instead of just dreaming about wetting a diaper. Then he’d likely end up diapered at night as a precaution, instead of just for kicks on special nights when he could get over his own insecurities. He didn’t know if he wanted that kind of wonderful defeat as a reason to be diapered more often, though perhaps the fact that he thought of it as “wonderful” told more than he meant to. That’s why he liked “horror porn”: people being forced into things that they secretly wanted, despite what society and the little judgmental parts of their brains told them. Damnit. He looked down. So much for half-mast. He’d done it again. There was only one way he was going to be able to get back to sleep now, and waking his wife was not likely an option. So, as quiet as a horny church mouse, he tip toed over to the computer in the corner of his bedroom and turned the monitor on. Out of habit more than anything, he went to his inbox before visiting any of his fetish sites. A request? A padded asylum? Hmmm…how would that work? He was familiar with the concept, but never quite figured out a way to work it out in his head. Sadly, he had a little too much information on how mental institutions really worked these days to suspend his own disbelief enough to write a story about it. There was a certain line that he had difficulty crossing when it came to realistic portrayal. If he was going to do something, he was going to do it right and be as accurate about it as possible. Perhaps that’s why he preferred to write about the impossible; easier to suspend disbelief when you weren’t pretending you were writing about anything other than pure bullshit. Same reason why he liked fantasy over historical fiction. Altered realities? Magic? Diapered afterlives? Done, done, and done. Go for it. It’s not trying to be realistic anyways. Parents deciding to full-time diaper their errant high schooler and replace their room with a prohibitively expensive adult sized nursery so they could raise them over again? Diapered asylums? Ha! Only on the internet would something like that work! Only on… He wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight, for multiple reasons. That hadn’t been a dream he’d had. That’d been inspiration. The writer smiled to himself. “Go,” he whispered to himself as he opened up a fresh word document, “There are other worlds than these.” It wasn’t quite the fresh piece of paper being slid into an old typewriter like his online avatar wrote on, but it was close enough for his needs. He began to type: “The Asylum at the End of Reality. Jenna Jennerick rocked back and forth in her cell..” He felt sorry for the girl-Jenna Jennerick- and what he was about to do to her; what others would likely experience through her eyes or his, depending if they viewed themselves as the witness to her plight or experienced her journey vicariously. Good thing she was fictional. He wouldn’t rationally wish this on anyone. Or perhaps Jenna only imagined that the writer thought all this as he click-clacked away on his keyboard in the middle of the night…who can say, really? Patient Record Patient Name: “Jenna Jennerick” (No name, social security number, finger prints, or other identification on record) Height: 5’4 Weight: 120 lbs Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown Sex: Female Patient ID: 1017-AB Security Level: High Visits: Allowed Outings: Allowed in Common Area with Supervision Food: Pureed food, spoon fed by orderly. Medication: Loxapine Restraints: Straight Jacket. Diapers. Treatment: Ongoing Notes and diagnosis: Patient suffers from delusions of oppression and shows signs of paranoid schizophrenia. Patient was found walking the grounds, naked, talking to other patients of escape, yet made no attempts to leave the premises herself, even when asked to leave by staff. Security reported several instances where subject could have evaded them, yet chose not to. Patient suffers from the delusion that she is a character in a sexual fetish story off of the internet based around the themes of bondage, sexual masochism, and autonepiophilia. Patient labors under an elaborate set of imagined rules, such as needing to be “force fed” “baby food”, diapered, and physically restrained. When these conditions are not met, patient becomes physically violent and attempts to “escape” though in every documented attempt, she allows herself to be re-captured; oftentimes throwing herself to the floor and self-harming as she nears an exit. I fear that we’re simply making her delusions worse by playing into them, however she is a danger to herself and others when not allowed to act out her fantasy. Looking at a form of regression therapy as a means of transition and behavioral modification. If her delusions cannot be dispelled completely, perhaps they can be modified so that she is no longer self-harming or a danger to others. Given her internet search history on the laptop we’ve given her, (note: she still insists on being restrained and has learned to type with her toes) she seems to focus heavily on the Adult Baby/Dipaer Lover Fetish, many of them revolving around the twin themes of confinement and forced regression. It is my belief that she has become fixated on these stories to the point where she is now unable to distinguish reality from fantasy and enacts these stories in her everyday life as a coping mechanism. Hypothetically, she might allow her fantasies to change from one of confinement to one of becoming regressed and modify her behavior accordingly. Considering starting to give her “Training panties” under the pretense of “proving she’s an adult”. It is my hypothesis that she will be compelled to follow the tropes found in so many of these stories, and begin to act as if she is losing her adult qualities and then pretend to be an infant. Better to have an overgrown toddler than a violent patient. Already looking into various providers of custom clothes and incontinence products to help the transition. Expense report for these items as well as custom furniture for a nursery being compiled and sent the board of directors for approval. Grant for study pending -Dr. Gaajar

I have a couple if unfinished stories here. I've come to a sort of block with them. My way of working through that is to diversify with another short story. This is one of those. Chapter 1 Although she was alone in the house this Saturday morning, Sara glanced left and right before pausing, and clicking with her slim finger on the link on the news page displayed on the laptop on the kitchen bench. She knew Jim was at the hardware store, but she still felt a kind of nervousness. She took a deep breath, and began to look at the site. Sara was 34, happily married, and they were generally doing well. 'They' was her and Jim, her handsome husband. Life was good, except for one thing. Sara stared at the images on the site. That the images even had meaning for her now was a measure of the situation. She wiped an unbidden tear from her flawless cheek, and then stared out through the kitchen window to where her lovely little Alfa Romeo, now sold, used to be parked. Then the doorbell rang. Sara's fingers went to the crotch of her track pants, and briefly rested there before she closed the page and left the kitchen. Then she felt behind at the top of her thighs for the little wings of dark damp that occasionally appeared despite her precautions. Sometimes, increasingly lately, she wet a little without realising it. Some weeks ago, she had started using sanitary pads, which she despised, every day, She'd managed to hide that from Jim. She had felt as embarrassed for him as she did for herself when it happened at a barbecue recently. Luckily, the only other person to notice was kind enough to take Sara aside and let her know. They left immediately, with Sara in apologetic tears and Jim being kind and understanding as always. She'd gone to the doctor again after that, and had received sympathy but no hope for change. The condition was what it was, as Jim had told her. They had so much else that was good and to be thankful for. None of that made Sara feel much better about herself. 34 years old, fit, successful, and having to scope wherever they went for the nearest bathroom. And checking her crotch and bottom for dampness when the doorbell rang. It was a woman doing a survey. Sara dealt with her as politely as she could, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. 'Thank you,' she said at last, closed the front door, and had to run to the bathroom. She knew what was happening as she got to the door. Involuntarily, she gave a short moan and sat on the toilet. There was no time to do anything else. She began crying as she sat, pissing her panties and track pants and listening to her pee cascading into the toilet bowl. She heard the front door opening. 'Hi darling!' Jim called. 'Who was that?' She heard Jim walk into the kitchen. 'Honey?' he said loudly. 'In here, in the bathroom,' she replied keeping her voice as steady as she could. She must have failed in that, because a moment later she heard Jim's voice outside the door. 'Are you ok?' he asked. 'Yep,' she replied, her voice breaking. There was a silence. 'Honey...' Jim said. Sara could hear the kindness and concern in his voice. 'I'm OK, Jim,' she said. Another short silence. 'I love you, honey,' Jim said. 'Just say if you need help.' Sara nodded, then felt silly, since Jim couldn't see her. 'Mm,' she managed. 'OK,' replied Jim. There was another brief silence, and she heard his footsteps retreating. Sara stood up. Her track pants and undies were saturated. Carefully, she pulled them down together to her thighs, and removed the sodden pad from the panties. She turned and dropped it into the bowl, then unrolled some toilet paper, carefully wiped her crotch and flushed the toilet. She kicked off her shoes and stepped out of her wet pants, then bunched them up and put them in the laundry basket in the room. There was no point in trying to hide what had happened. She would either have to face Jim in soaked pants or come clean, as it were. It wasn't the first time this had happened, and as before, she was glad to have an excuse of sorts. She picked up her shoes and walked pantless into the living room to find Jim. It was awful, she knew that, and tried to banish the weird, erotic little buzz she was feeling. She'd felt that before when something similar had happened. It was a mixture of exhibitionism, which was not part of her personality, and extreme and even strangely exciting vulnerability. She knew how much she needed Jim. She felt helpless. She'd begun shaving her crotch for hygiene since all this started, and facing Jim without any pubic hair felt odd, but exciting. She stood next to the chair he sat in, and despite her intention of explaining what had happened, she found herself crying again and unable to speak. 'Poor baby,' said Jim gently as Sara moved in front of him and collapsed into his arms. 'You couldn't help it, could you?' he asked in his strong, caring voice. Sara shook her head, and gave herself up to his embrace. To be continued

The Woes of Maddison Page Chapter 3 - Another good snot faced cry Forget the shower, I was starting to feel water logged from all these tears! Everything in my life traced back to my home. It was like some horrible game of Seven Degrees from Kevin Bacon, Seven Connections to my Burnt Down House. We’d never lived anywhere else. Everything I knew, every single memory, was now ashes and mud. They told us nothing was salvageable, and I hadn’t felt like checking it out myself. I hadn’t felt like leaving the hotel room for that matter. It wasn’t like I could get around good enough to sift through debris anyway. So, it all just sat there open to the elements. Even mom hadn’t been back by the site of the fire, and she was going stir crazy around our little hotel suite. She was constantly coming and going as she thought of little things she could pick up or go do. I had just stayed in the hotel room greeting the many well-wishers, most of the time from the freaking bathroom! I had a few friends that came by and hung out, but not many. With semester finals, even the ones who wanted to stay couldn’t stay for long. It’s not like my friends and classmates didn’t have sympathy, it’s more like they didn’t feel comfortable around the tragedy. As if being hurt wasn’t enough to make them uncomfortable, it was the sudden realization that everything they held dear is one spark away from ashes like my past was. I guess no one really wants to confront that reality. I can’t say I blamed them. I was living the reality and it still had to sink in in small doses. I’d have caved under the pressure if it had all fallen on me all at once. Isn’t the mind a blessedly weird and wonderful thing? Friend and enemy all in one. My friends and classmates were highly stressed for me, which only messed with my head even more. They’d putter around not being able to do anything to help, or think of something uplifting to say while I talked through the bathroom door. No one really had extra cash laying around to help us, not in this economy. Not that we would have accepted, but honestly, in these situations money is the only thing that really helps. Not having a phone isolated me from the outside world even further, like my bladder wasn’t doing a bang up job at that already! I’m pretty sure a few of my friends couldn’t even carry on a face to face conversation anymore! I felt like I was stuck in a furnished cave back in the technological dark ages. I can tell you with all certainty, technology withdraws are a real thing! I’m still not sure if the loss of my phone was a blessing or a curse though. I was in pain physically, mentally, and emotionally. I was truly and utterly overwhelmed standing there in the hotel bathtub. Even when it felt like life was too much to bear, I didn’t think of ending it. Nope. Never! Not me. I’m way too stubborn. The world was in for Maddison Page for until she didn’t have a say about it any more! What’s really hard to process is all this crazy “mommy” crap. Where the hell is that coming from. Sure, I feel like poo, but I’m not comfortable with the role reversal that was swinging back and forth here. I have to get my crap together! I thought of homework, college entrance essays, bill due dates, savings account balances, supply lists, finals, GPAs, ACT results, shoes, and whatever the hell that was going on with holding my pee. I couldn’t stop my wandering mind. It was everywhere. My body felt relaxed, but my mind was reeling. This shower was doing wonders for centering me though. Thinking and planning was my comfort zone. I just needed some time to get it all sorted. If my phone wasn’t melted glass and crispy circuits, I’d be making ToDo Lists in my favorite app. As it was, I’d have to try and remember all this to write down later. I wouldn’t get it all, but it helped me to focus on the things I could influence. Besides, my head would circle the same lingering thoughts again later. It wouldn’t stop until I took an action and started solving some problems. I poked my head out of the shower curtain and looked around for mom. I would have thought she’d have left by now, but she was worried about leaving me alone this morning. I sucked in a breath to detail why she should get out for a while when a random thought crossed my mind. “FUCK! I don’t have any other copies of my essays Momma! I’ll have to start writing my entrance and scholarship papers all over again. My damn computer went up with the house. I can’t even make use of this down time.” I screamed startling mom while she was standing by the door trying to leave. “Maddison Page! That’s enough with the language young lady!” Mom scolded me sternly while I broke down in rage hitting the bathtub wall. This time I didn’t have to strain to hear her authority. It came through clearly and piping hot! I gave her a sincere nod. I had everything else to worry about. I thought mom only had to worry about me. I knew for certain that I didn’t want her spare brain power poring over my bathroom issues. I’d just as soon have mom fussing over fire details instead of me. Mom focusing on me wasn’t going to reduce my stress levels. That was for damn sure! Fortunately, I had already submitted my application to state. I was fairly certain I’d get in, but you never put all your hopes in one place. I had a deadline of mid-January for the other essays though. I still had some time if I could just get started, but there was no getting started without a laptop. Now that I think about it, most of my drafts are on Google Docs with my school account. I may not have to start from scratch! The thought brought a genuine smile to my face. The first one I’d had in a while. Again fortunately, I was exempt from most of my finals this semester so the school had worked this week out as an extended Christmas vacation for me. I had to do a written exam for English Comp. I had some notes on it which were sitting on the nightstand out by the hotel bed, but I hadn’t been able to focus enough to make much headway. God bless them, I need a break somewhere. Who’d have thought it would come from the school? But, this “young lady” crap needs to stop before it snowballs on me. I want my Momma back, and I’m nearly a card carrying adult. I’m not headed in the right direction here! “Honey, you just stay here and don’t worry about going out with me. I’ll manage just fine. It sounds like you could use a nap anyway. Is the pain keeping you up? Do you still feel like you have to go when you are you sleeping? Are the urges keeping you up? You still have some of the pain medicine from the ER right?” She asked questioning the “need to pee” thing I had going on. “If I can fall asleep before my bladder starts false alarm coding again, I could definitely use some sleep though.” I told her from my warm shower of peace. I took a breath and tried to soak up as much of that peace as I could. We hadn’t been awake very long before mom had cleaned up and dawned some borrowed clothes this morning. It was only a little after seven when I started this shower. She was in the “get something done” mode, but there was no house to clean now, and tidying up our one bed hotel suite just didn’t take her that long. Mom inched toward the suite door. She was ready to get out of the room, but she seemed to be reluctant to leave me alone. She was fighting the mom of fixing it for her child, and the need to get away for her own sanity. God, I pray I can get to sleep, and I hope I didn’t wet my panties while I do! I prayed to the powers that be. I also made a mental not to look up Adult Attention Deficit Disorder. I was pretty sure mom suffered terribly. “I’ll grab some melatonin. That’ll help you off to sleep before your bladder can get all mouthy.” Mom smirked. “I’ll check the bed when I get back, you know just in case. Now get dried off and go to sleep.” You’re hilarious. Glad someone thinks this shit is funny! I thought sarcastically shooting my mom the stink face behind her back. “Thanks momma.” I actually said out loud. She had to help me ease into the bathtub earlier, and I had really appreciated her help too. I just seemed to find more pain as time went by not less. I just wish I had had my phone. I’d enjoy some music. Still, that hot water felt terrific on my leg, back, arm, and even my mind. That back and forth to the bathroom was getting really old and making me more sore than I had imagined was possible. “Look, I’m going to cut you some slack, but you had better clean up that mouth. I’m not sure how long we’ll be cooped up here. We have to stay on the same team and not snipe at each other. I love you with all my heart my sweet baby.” Mom told me jiggling her keys and putting the do not disturb on the door as she stepped back into the bathroom. She just couldn’t leave she was too nervous, but she was still itching to go. I needed to let her off the hook because it was growing clear she wouldn’t leave on her own. “I’m sorry momma. I love you too. How long till we get something from the insurance company? I already gave them an itemized list of the house contents, so I think we are only waiting on the contents check. It’s not like the adjuster has much to work with out there. I really have to get a computer. Do you think I should get one with my savings and just replenish it later with the insurance money?” I pleaded for permission from my shower of solitude. “I’d guess we’ll be getting something from them soon. The contents check at least. You can call them and ask when you get out?” Mom volunteered me. What happened to my nap? “I may have to get something before then. I have entrance essays and some deadlines on several scholarships ahead of me. I need to schedule some interviews for a few of the local scholarships. I need to meet with the consolers and work out any colleges that I haven’t applied to. I have the ACT again this weekend. I really need to get my score up from 27 to 30. Well shit, I lost all of my study material that I’d bought before the fire. ARGH! Oh, the house insurance is due at the end of the month. Not sure how that goes now since there isn’t a house. The vehicle insurance is due middle of next month. Christmas is gone, and I have three papers to write for AP Comp before Christmas break is over. Not to mention, I don’t have any underwear, socks, hair products, makeup, clothes, posters, pencils, or a room of my own.” I started crying again. That was a damn long list, and it was just the first things off the top of my head. Mom made it back over to the shower, but refused to fall into tears again. Our pastor had stopped by yesterday. We broke down many times while he and his wife were here. He just loved and hugged us through it all. Mrs. Hagan reminded us that grieving was part of the healing process and that we’d continue to have little bouts of sorrow. “It’s normal girls. You two just let it all out we’re all here for you.” She’d told us. My bladder tingled again causing me to worry to spike. It was easier to get out with mom helping me, so I decided to get out of the tub. My shaving and such would just have to wait. I grabbed the wall railing and headed back to the toilet crying. My tears fell unchecked to the tile. I was tired and my face was sore and puffy, so I just let the tears fall. “Oh Honey. I can wait until later to go to the store. Besides maybe you’ll feel better and can go with me?” Mom offered. After another failed attempt on the toilet, I dried off and we headed off to the couch. I was aching all over like when you’re running a high fever. I lay down on the couch and asked mom for a pillow. She snagged a pillow for me off the bed. It wasn’t the right thickness, fluffiness, or texture. Hell, it didn’t even smell right. My pillow smelled like burnt up memories, but I wanted it right then. I decided I’d wash it and dry it later. I wanted that back. A little grass or bush stain wasn’t going to keep me from the pillow my Daddy got me. “Nah, you go. I might need some time alone for a good snot faced cry. Hopefully, I’ll be in a better mood when you get back. Will you pick up some nasal saline wash? I can’t smell anything but the fire.” I sighed and tried to relax into the little nest she had made. “Damn it.” I bellowed moments later. I was back on my way to the bathroom before mom made it back to the damn door. She looked back with a worried look on her face and I just waved her on taking off my leg brace-cast-thing. I grabbed a bottle of water out of the mini-fridge and headed back to my new fulltime chair. I’d decided to take another long shower and just not care if I peed in the hotel tub or not. I wanted to shave everything, brush my teeth, and regain my sense of humanness anyway. I snagged my wet panties with my toes. I had every intention of sitting them on the sink, but stopped so I could take off the panties I was wearing. The wet crotch of my last fresh panties took my breath away. When the hell did that happen? Am I wetting my pants now? Monkey Balls! All the time I’ve spent on this damn toilet the last few days and there’s still piss in my panties! How the holy hell is there anything left in there! I told the toilet to go ‘F’ itself aloud, and hoped in the shower. Besides, I wasn’t cleaning the shower so what did I care if I peed. I turned the water up good and steamy. I’d get out of this shower floppy limbed and red as could be, but I just didn’t care anymore. The only other pair of panties I had was in the dirty clothes and my last two pair were apparently wet now. The shower is a great place for that snot faced cry I had promised myself, clean up being instant and all. Eventually, it was just the noise of my sorrow. Finally, it stopped. I was sure I’d have been sobbing if I could, but I just didn’t have anything left in the tank. I was finally all cried out. I reached out of the shower and grabbed my soiled undergarments. They needed a good rinse too, and I decided to take care of it while I was in the shower. I might have punched the shower wall with my good hand. More than once. I’m not proud of my little temper tantrum, but I felt better after I let it all out even if my knuckles were are red because of it. My cuts stung under the water, but they went numb with the rest of my skin in the heat. I’d left my leg and wrist splints in the bedroom on the sink. I needed a place to sit, but the hotel shower didn’t have the built in chair. I just leaned against the wall and let the water beat down my back and sooth my aches and pains. Eventually, I got around to all that modern female hair maintenance and started feeling like myself. The entire time I was in the shower, I felt like I needed to sit down and pee. It was seriously the strangest feeling, and it was humiliating. I had an ordered life with little time to spare and many many items to juggle. Every time I circled back around to my urine issues I thought, Ain’t nobody got no time for dat. Apparently, the only time I had any relief from the constant need to pee was when I was asleep, or distracted by something like crazy anger. Worry only made it worse. Unfortunately, worry was about all I had. So it fed the problem like a perpetual motion machine. I worried and needed to pee. I worried about needing to pee. I couldn’t get away from the toilet, and that caused me to worry more. Wet and repeat.

Birch House Chapter 8 --- Ann --- We were halfway through the movie that Mom had picked out for us, Frozen… again, and Becca was on her third beer. Mom was sipping on some of the Phillips’ wine. Me? I was deep into my third glass of apple juice. I know, I’m a lightweight. Alcohol just isn’t my thing. It sped up my bathroom breaks, and they were already more frequent than I could tolerate. Becca’s right. I preached to myself. There’s no need for me to get up. I don’t have to watch my fluid intake, and I don’t have anywhere to be tomorrow. I’m gonna wake up wet regardless, and these things will hold a ton! I can do this! I blew a lot of bravado up my own nightgown with that little pep talk, but when push came to shove ten minutes later… I had a very hard time not rushing off to the bathroom like I had a billion times over the last ten years. You can do this. You did it involuntarily all the time. Just channel your inner ten year old and wet your pants! I fussed at myself. I’d worn a longer guys XL Tall tee, but Mom made me change. She wanted my diaper on display like hers… and Becca’s. I still couldn’t believe my punky best friend was sitting there in a white diaper and a black band tee. The diaper and her platinum hair looked good against her black shirt. My new top was a shorter ladies tall, Princess Bubblegum, tee. It had pink sleeves, collar, and waist trim. It was was cut like an old baseball jersey and I loved it. It was the most comfortable top I owned, and I slept in it all the time. I tugged my pink fuzzy socks up my ankles and tucked my feet back under my thighs laying like a Hut sideways by my Mom. Becca had taken up her spot at my feet on the floor. She’d started sitting on my feet when we were the only two on the couch, but that wasn’t the case that night. “Stop fidgeting Doodlebug.” Mom chidded during a lull in the action. Not that there was much action in that cartoon. Some people’s mother’s. I sighed internally. “Sorry, I gotta go.” I said. “Well, go.” Mom retorted in a whisper so she wouldn’t miss anything. How she could still watch Frozen after so many years, I’ll never know. “Yeah, Piss or get off the Pot damn. Keep kneeing me in the head.” Becca mumbled rubbing at a pretend wound. “Alright you two.” I said rising. “Where are you going?” Mom asked. “To the bathroom.” I replied confused. “Dude!” Becca laughed looking up from her phone. She grabbed her diapered crotch and shook it at me. “Oh…” I said like a scared mouse. “Might as well get it over with. You’re the only dry one here anyway.” Becca laughed offhandedly. “Oh Mom, I forgot I’m supposed to be checking you. How bad is it?” I asked her trying to distract them. “Well, shit. I’d forget my head. I’m so out of practice on diaper watch…” She laughed and poked at her diaper. “Uh… I should probably change.” Which meant she was close to leaking. “Well scoot. Becca are you wet too? Did you mean you’re wet?” I asked as Mom trundled out of the room. “Sure as shit am. Listen, these don’t do anything for me in a good way, but I don’t hate em either. Sure makes the drinking easier.” She laughed holding up her beer can. “I don’t think I can.” I whispered so low I could barely hear myself, but I was pushing my own limits stalling. “You can. You just don’t want to. I bet you’re afraid a magic bladder demon will get you if you do.” She teased. “You’re about right. He’d come and zap what little dignity I have left and leave me in these things full time.” I whined. “That seems super unlikely Babe.” She laughed taking another deep pull on her beer. “Look, I don’t know why this is happening again. The doctors seemed kinda surprised when I started getting better at 14.” I reminded her. “They warned me this was possible. At least I got ten good years padding free.” I flopped back onto the couch. “Well, there’s that. Hey you’re still daytime free!” She glass-half-fulled me. Mom came in and we both sort of knew it was time to let our conversation go. We started up the movie and she snuggled in tightly to me. I was trapped by Mom physically and my own head mentally. OK. I can do this. I can choose to do this. I’ll wet this diaper and conquer my fears. I prepared myself. I squeeze as hard as I could and, all I could muster was a tiny spurt. All those years of peeing without any control, and now I want to pee and I can’t. I really don’t want it though, not deep down. I want to jump up and run to the bathroom and rip this thing off. I want to never see a diaper again. There’s a common misconception in bladder control. Your urinary sphincter is at rest closed and flexed when it’s forced open. So the misnomer of “relaxing your bladder to pee” is misleading. Recalling my teen years and the multiple doctor’s appointments, I slowly focused my attention on the muscles between my legs. I concentrated gaining control of those muscles and slowly forced my body to follow my demands. I felt the flow pickup and then I heard the stream as it gained momentum. Mom just looked up at me and smiled. Becca’s head cocked to the side and she looked at me from the corner of her eye. Her head tilted up and she took a long drag of air. I saw her cheeks rise in a smile. She turned back to the movie and took another drink from her can of beer. “That’s my girl.” Becca said reaching back to pat my knee. “That wasn’t too bad was it Doodlebug?” Mom asked. “I mean, it’s not like I… I don’t even feel anything… geez these are good diapers. I can’t feel anything but some warmth. Still, I hate it Mom. I don’t want to need these!” I admitted whining. “I’m glad Molls. I’m gonna call Daddy before I go to bed. Thanks for the movie and cuddle girls.” Mom said getting up and crinkling off to the guest room. Mom shut the door on her way out of my bedroom leaving Becca and I alone. She didn’t even wait for the door to shut before she was sitting on my feet. She scratched at the top of her diaper in the middle of her back and wiggled until she was comfortable then laid down against me. “Netflix? Season 2 of our show is releasing. Wanna watch Season 1 again so we know what’s going on?” Becca asked almost vibrating with excitement. “Sure, one or two. I’m beat.” I told her. She popped up like a vampire when the sun goes down and paused at the door. “Want anything?” She asked. “More juice and popcorn!” I laughed. She seemed to be having that effect on me lately. “Sure thing. Get the show started.” She commanded leaving the room. I laughed at her crinkling saggy behind and turned my attention to the TV. Three remotes later I finally had the show queued up, but I was still waiting on Becca and my popcorn. She buys the movie theater popcorn salt online, and her popcorn is always the best. I was excited! With nothing left to occupy my mind, I looked down at my own crotch. Life is full of confusing paradoxes. Every day until I was fourteen, diapers were both safety and misery for me. I had a sudden resurgence of the feelings of security and comfort. They were familiar and not wholly... unwelcome. I didn’t hate them so much this time around as I had as a teenager. I bet the only reason I’m not reliving all the tears I shed is because I can take this off. I don’t HAVE to be in it right now. I have a choice. It had just taken some time for my adult mind to process those lingering conflicted feelings from my hormonal years. Diapers were necessary at that time in my life, not a choice. They weren’t a welcome necessity either. If I hadn’t worn my protection, I would have peed all over everything... all of the time. I have a tiny tiny bladder, and it was becoming treacherous again. My bladder was so small that my appetite had outgrown it early. I was bigger than my bladder before I ever started potty training. When Mom and Daddy made their only attempt at potty training me, I was around six years old. My best hold times were under an hour depending on what I’d had to drink. The major problem was that I had so little notice. When I was full, I had precious few moments to make it to the potty. I was constantly up running to the bathroom. We never really tired for overnight dryness, we just assumed that was a lost cause. Well, until I literally started to dry up... Then in the summer after I turned fourteen, I got the wild idea to try and hold my pee. I lengthened that to around two hours before I mentioned to Mom and Daddy what I’d done. We tried pull-ups over Christmas break and I found myself in panties for the first time just after the summer started. Another year later and my prideful sixteen year old self slept in a pull-up for the first time in my life! By the summer after I turned sixteen, I was totally padding free as long as I monitored fluids before bed. I felt so liberated when I started my first year of college that year. I had been thrilled to finish home school in pull-ups and elated to go to college with just heavy pads and thicker boyshort style panties. Here I was on my couch as an adult, an adult with an adult sized appetite and a baby sized bladder. I flipping hated it and I was comforted at the same time. It was such a crushing defeat. My mind spiraled between terrible defeat and the security that the diapers brought me. At the same time, I was just daring the universe to make my nightmares come true. Fluid watch hadn’t kept my bed dry or my hiney out of diapers! --- Becca --- “Damn, these things are comfortable, but it’s weird walking around with my gelled up piss squishing between my legs. I bet I could get some kick ass friction going.” I babbled whatever shit was floating on the top of my mind. Ann didn’t respond right away. I didn’t catch a laugh for my joke either. I figured her mood would sour without someone in here to keep her from dwelling on her shit. I planned to sleep up here on the couch that night. Good thing Trent’s off earning his fence money. My girl needs me tonight. Truthfully, I need my girl tonight too. Damn I’m feeling clingy as fuck. I got up. Maybe I’m drunk? I spun a quick circle, but didn’t fall. Buzzed for sure, but still coordinated enough to stay on two feet. I caught the aroma of fresh pee and decided Ann must have wet again. I bit back my quip about testing the limits of her new diapers. I didn’t figure she would appreciate it, at least not in her current mood. It was my job to keep her mood light as possible. “Dude, my girl needs more refreshments and I need a new beer.” I said bowing like a stage actor while handing her some juice and popcorn. “By the way, juice and popcorn is fucking nasty. Just sayin.” “Well, I wouldn’t have said no to a Dr. Pepper or Mountain Dew with the popcorn, but juice is fine.” Ann said sounding deflated. “I got you babe. I need something too.” I said snagging up her juice and bounced to the kitchenette. “Here we go, carbonated sugar water for the all around unhealthy snack! Start the show Baby.” I told her flopping down on her feet before leaning over lying on her lower body. Ann was sprawled out like a woman on a fainting couch with her elbow propped on the arm of the seat. I laid down against her, my elbow on her diapered hip. Every time I moved, we both crinkled. I secretly loved it and wiggled as much as possible. “Lord woman, settle. I can’t hear the show over your diaper.” She finally giggled. Victory is Mine! “You’ve seen these before right?” I asked. “Yeah you made me watch em. Good stuff but sad.” Ann told me. “I know. Like real life. Hard to watch, but still worth the viewing.” I threw out a rare truth nugget. “Wow. Booze makes you deep.” She giggled. I blushed. Maybe it did? I’d never thought about it. Suddenly, I was trapped in my own head. My life was pretty awesome except for the Trent not being around enough thing. I was so glad he’d come home last night. I’d needed that pounding so bad. I was pleasantly sore. It was a great way to live. I took a breath and pushed another can of beer into my diaper. That was the only thing I hated about drinking. I had to piss all the time, like all the fucking time. Not as much as Ann used to, but damn close! I don’t know if these things have a place in my life in any other area, but I was pretty sure I’d be drinking padded again. “God alcohol is so much more satisfying when you don’t spend half your buzz on the toilet or waiting in line to use one.” I laughed. “Movies are better when you can sip soda and munch popcorn and not have to get up and miss scenes too.” Ann added. Holy Crap Batman! Was that a positive thought about her diapers! Progress! Ok, pull it back… don’t spook her! “See these things aren’t all bad.” I laughed. “I guess. They even feel sort of comfortable to me. Like my old favorite pair of blue jeans. I just have so many emotions tied up with them, and most of them are negative.” She slumped into the couch. “Listen, set those feels aside. You’re not thirteen any more hun. You’ve outgrown those feels man. Just be who you are today. You have a problem. You made a choice. You solved it your own way. Chill. Hahaha Netflix and Chill Baby.” I laughed at my own joke. Yeah, I’m totally plastered! Ann got really quiet and I saw the humor leave her eyes. I got a tiny flare of new piss through my nose and looked down at her crotch. Her diaper was wet, but no where near as wet as mine. I wasn’t sure she even noticed she’d peed a bit. I sure as fuck wasn’t bringing it up either. My best friend seemed to zone out pretty heavily as she continued to watch the show. I wasn’t as into it as I was the first time we’d watched it together, so my mind wandered. My diaper was so wet by the end of the second episode that I was getting uncomfortable. I’d been drinking for hours without one trip to the bathroom! It was sort of miraculous. It had been a great night of fun, and I was very happy to see Mrs. Smith… er Robin. She’d always been my second Mom. I felt that way about her, naturally I saw her as more of a woman than Ann did. I had a unique perspective on the Smiths since I wasn’t one, not really. I always thought it was fun to love Robin as a Mom and a friend at the same time. It was amazing to see her and that night was the first time in my life she’d ever worn just her diaper around me, but as far as I knew, she’d been diapered since they moved in next door. “Hey you ok to watch another?” I asked hopefully. “I don’t know” *Yawn* “I’m pretty sleepy.” She told me resting her head on the arm of the couch. “Awe, come on. It’s still just ten! You never go to bed this early.” I complained. Ann appeared to lose herself in thought. I don’t know what she was thinking about, but she seemed to be thinking really hard about it. Eventually, she reached down and touched her diaper. It was the first time she’d really acknowledged it in front of me. I held my breath. This was an important moment. She poked it once and I literally felt her shoulders slump. Oh no girl. We ain’t having any of that! I jumped up. I swiveled around and pulled my tee up under my boobs. I looked at her and smiled. She fought her smile and looked down at my diaper. I reached for her diaper and pinched it. “Wow, you’re doing way better than I am. Damn. I’m fucking soaked.” I told her. “Think it will hold more?” I asked shaking my hips waving the diaper in front of her. Ann reached up and pinched around on my diaper. She touched it by my thighs, up by my waist, and spun me around and played with the backside. “Yeah. You really did soak this thing. I don’t think this one will hold much more.” She said meekly. “Well, throw me another one. Yah?” I said sort of bouncing. “This thing is hilarious. Flops all around like a dead fish. I feel like a freaking toddler in a Pampers Commercial.” “HA!” Ann barked a sharp laugh. Oh my God. Her laugh. That’s so much better. I thought. “Look!” I laughed swinging my hips like a dude fucking the air in a stripper show. The diaper flopped back and forth making wet slapping noises against my ass and pussy. “Oh Lord Becks cut it out!” She said laughing hard. “I can’t! It’s too fucking funny. Show me yours!” I laughed. “Oh, no. I couldn’t.” Ann hedged. I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I reached down and grabbed her hands tugging her up. She flew up off the couch, and it was funny to watch the dynamic change. As she stood, she began to tower over me. I laughed switching from looking down at her to looking up at her, and tugged her into a tight hug. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I could smell our diapers. I was fairly certain I was going to have to switch to water. I smelled pretty dehydrated. Ann just smelled a bit like her bathroom, but I’d never tell her that. Come to think of it, a small hint of urine has always been a part of her scent bouquet. I just seemed to be able to smell her better these days. I kept swinging my hips, but Ann wasn’t getting into the swing of things. So I swung my hips closer and closer until I was bumping into her. At first, it was super funny and I laughed even harder. Accidentally, or by some fate’s design, I bumped my very soggy diapered crotch into her thigh. Electricity shot through my system from my pussy straight to my brain. “OH MY GOD!” I yelled. I couldn’t stop my body from repeating the motion that followed. I bounced my pussy onto her again and again. There was no mistake this time. It happened, and I did it on purpose, well sort of. I still had a hold of her hands. I pulled our hands out to the sides drawing us closer together grinding my diaper into her leg. I froze myself a few thrusts in. I had been entirely out of control. Sudden fear washed over me. Terror shuck me to my core. I was sort of dry humping Ann! What the hell was going on? Oh but it felt so good. I tried to stand back up and the warm gel rubbed against my clit causing a shudder to pass through my whole body. I was so very close. I was close to getting off, to losing my friend, to cheating on my husband, to fucking a chick, to losing my identity, to losing my house, to fucking up our home, to losing my fucking mind. So close to so many things… I’m way drunker than I thought.

I myself, don't really have any specific name for mine, but here are some I know of. Binky Booby Boom Boom Chewy Doo Doo Doe Doe Dummy Dumb Dumb Ninny Nonny Nooky Nunny Paci Plug Popper Sassy Sissy Soother Sucker Stopper Teet Tit Wubby The list can go on and on. But those are a few to think on. Have fun!

Nick and Sarah are back at Kirsty's house for their lesson in how to act. How do Kirsty and George plan to teach the couple? And will George and Nick make up after the explosive exit the previous week? --- This has been available on my Patreon for the last week and for $5 you can see each of my posts (one each four days) one week before everyone else. For $10 there are exclusive stories as well. There are more tiers and rewards available on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 A big thank you to all my patrons who allow me to write as much as I do, they are all very appreciated: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Charlie S, Spaxxs, John D, Pierre-David G, Vincent, Struggle, Kit, Sith, Daniel, Ak, M, Sophie S, Earnest B, Jack O, Joshua M, NunyoBC, Txdiapered, Kin, P74_1986, Chris, Dre, Mike H, Kei, Dorian G, Persi S, Ceneroz, Rob, Darrell, Jack C, S Millard, Cheryl C, Carlota C, Ron M, Tsidt, Britnee L, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Tim F, Chris B, WillNotWill, Jerry J,Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, Malcolm E, Brandon S, Nate J, Tomy, Infouneed2know, Daniel W, LuvsSissy, Guilyn, Erik P, Bojack D, Shihouin10, Scott S, Diapering Daddy, Miguel A, James B, A Random Patreon, Ben R, Lin J, Ben F, Kent J --- George hardly felt any better knowing Nick was on the other side of the door. He worried that Nick was still angry with him, George wouldn’t blame his friend after he had sold him out just a week ago. George stayed on the stairs in his girly clothes as Kirsty walked straight to the door and opened it. “Hello Kirsty.” Sarah said immediately before turning to the sissy on the stairs, “Hi George.” George waved shyly but then quickly pulled his hand down when he saw Nick follow his wife through the front door. He looked away immediately. Despite his cage and his plug it was the look Nick was giving him that made him feel the most uncomfortable. “Let me stop you right there.” Kirsty said as she closed the front door. Sarah stopped in her tracks and turned towards her friend. Nick just quickly walked to the foot of the stairs and watched the two women, he was very aware of George’s eyes staring a hole through him. Nick was wearing relatively normal clothes today so he felt a happy superiority over the sissy in their pink and feminine clothes. “Today I’m not Kirsty.” Kirsty said with a sultry smile, “Today I’m Mistress.” “You’re kidding, right?” Sarah smiled as if trying to catch her friend out. “Absolutely not.” Kirsty replied seriously. She wasn’t smiling, “Today you aren’t “Mummy Sarah”. You are just another little slut, like any other.” Sarah gasped in shock and Nick’s mouth dropped open. Nick couldn’t believe that someone was talking to Sarah like that. He thought about stepping in between the two women but he felt a hand on his shoulder, Nick turned to see George holding him back. “She knows what she’s doing.” George whispered. Nick scowled and pulled himself away from the sissy’s grip before turning to watch the scene in front of him again. “I… I…” Sarah was stuttering. “Get in the dungeon.” Kirsty ordered as she pointed to the door to the garage, “Now.” Nick expected Sarah to argue. He expected her to laugh and tell Kirsty to knock it off but Sarah hesitated for a second and then meekly walked through into the converted garage. Nick watched with open-mouthed shock. He saw Kirsty look at him and she smirked. “You are surprised?” Kirsty asked Nick as she slowly closed the few feet to Nick. She reached forward and patted Nick’s nappy, “Honey, taking control isn’t just about giving orders. Some of us can make others do as we wish and others… Well, they end up back in nappies.” “Bitch.” Nick growled through clenched teeth. Clearly the mistress hadn’t forgiven him for hitting George. Kirsty didn’t miss a beat. Without even batting an eyelid she thrust her hand forward again and grabbed the front of Nick’s padding, Kirsty squeezed her hand causing Nick to wince and yelp in pain. “You and George will play nice.” Kirsty whispered into Nick’s ear, “If you don’t you will answer to me.” Nick nodded his head frantically and Kirsty slowly relaxed her grip. Nick massaged the front of his pants as he winced through the pain. He felt the pain slowly dissipate and Kirsty was still waiting in front of him. “You’ll go upstairs with George.” Kirsty ordered. Nick still wanted to argue but he swallowed his pride and followed the sissy up the stairs and into George’s nursery. George flounced into the room in his feminine clothes and sat down on the edge of his crib. He winced as the plug was pushed further into him and he took a second to try and get comfortable. He watched as Nick walked straight over to the window and look outside. He seemed to be determined not to talk to George as he folded his arms across his chest and deliberately avoided looking at him. If there had been a clock in the room the ticking would have been deafening as the silence seemed palpable. George thought Nick was a powder keg and he was trying very hard not to light the fuse. It was why he was very surprised when Nick sighed and turned away from the window. “I’m sorry.” Nick said at last, “I’m sorry I punched you… Again.” “I-I’m sorry too.” George replied. His voice showed the shock he felt, “I shouldn’t have sold you out.” “You had no choice.” Nick waved his hand dismissively, “I was angry and hot headed but I know you were given no choice. It just… Sucks.” George nodded his head. He smiled a little bit and, when Nick returned the smile, he stood up. Slowly and carefully George waddled across the room until he was stood next to Nick at the window. He awkwardly stood next to Nick quite unsure of what to do next. Nick took the reins and wrapped the sissy in a hug. They spent a couple of seconds holding each other before separating and moving apart. They were both a little pink in the face from the situation. “I deserved it.” Nick said as he turned his back on the window, “After everything that happened I was just as bad as she was.” “Being in control is hard.” George said with a shrug, “Why do you think I gave it all up?” “I guess…” Nick replied slowly, “I was never too good at it myself. As bad as all this is there is a certain pleasantness that comes with not having to worry about anything.” “Now you’re getting it.” George giggled. “But there’s a difference between giving up a little control and, well, this!” Nick spread his arms out and shook his head, “I’m not a baby and I don’t deserve to be treated like one.” “You say one thing… But I think you think another thing.” George sat down on the floor in front of his little doll house. Nick didn’t reply. He looked at George questioningly when the sissy winced again. “Are you hurt?” Nick asked to change the subject. “No.” George replied. “What’s with the wincing?” Nick walked away from the window and sat down cross-legged in front of the sissy. “I’m not sure you want to know.” George replied with a little snide smile. “You think you can shock me after everything that’s happened?” Nick replied. “I’m… Plugged.” George blushed as he spoke. “Plugged?” Nick asked naively. Realisation dawned on him slowly, “Oh! I see.” George nodded his head slowly and fiddled with one of the buttons on his overalls. Nick was equally embarrassed but not overly surprised. “What’s that like?” Nick asked after a little silence, “I’ve never had something like that.” “It’s weird.” George said, “You can always feel it but especially when you sit down. It’s hard to explain, it’s one of my hollow ones so-” “Hollow ones?” Nick’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s got a hole through it so that… Well, I’m sure you can guess!” George said. “Oh…” Nick thought for a second, “I didn’t know those were a thing.” Silence fell again as Nick digested the news. Nick had started to think that he knew a lot about BDSM and all of it’s aspects but he kept finding new things that he didn’t know about previously. He thought back to that morning when Sarah had threatened him with a suppository and wondered what other things she was thinking about. Nick suddenly became concerned about what Kirsty might be teaching his wife down in the garage. He kind of wished he could be a fly on the wall. He didn’t know what devious things Kirsty and Sarah would cook up together but he knew that he wouldn’t like it. “Mistress wanted me to teach you a bit about being a sub.” George eventually said. “Teach me?” Nick asked, “What’s there to learn?” “Apparently quite a bit.” George replied, “Because you and your wife have got into some very bad habits.” Nick nodded his head as he looked down at the floors. His nappy was freshly warm again but he didn’t remember wetting it, it must have happened since he got up to the bedroom though. “I mean… I don’t want to pry to deep or anything but-” George said slowly before being cut off. “No, you’re right.” Nick replied. He smiled a little, “Teach me, Sensei.” George giggled as Nick did an over exaggerated bow. He nodded his head and thought about where to start, he really hadn’t planned anything because he didn’t expect Nick to even talk to him after his betrayal. “Well, firstly… You need boundaries.” George said, “You need to know where hard limits are because what happened with your wife and her friend was because she made assumptions.” “Isn’t that her fault then?” Nick asked seriously. “Yes and no.” George said, “She was at fault to some extent but you did give her permission to do whatever with Jack.” “I did…” Nick replied, “But only because I was scared that if I didn’t let Sarah have what she wanted that she would make me leave.” “But you never made that clear.” George said as he tugged on the strap of his overalls, “She thought she had permission and that you were fine with it all. Basically, the key there is communication.” “It’s hard to talk to her when she has control like that.” Nick admitted quietly. “I know it is.” George reached forward and put a consoling hand on Nick’s arm, “But you and her need to find a way to discuss things properly. If you don’t do that then this will happen again, I’m sure Kirsty will tell Sarah the same thing.” Nick nodded his head but he was doubtful about having a way to make Sarah listen to him. George was correct that their relationship had become toxic though, at the very least they had to stop trying to get control over one another in such a malicious way. “You are Sarah’s submissive husband.” George continued, “She is in control of the relationship but that doesn’t mean she can do whatever she likes. She might make you uncomfortable or embarrassed but she can’t do things like cheat on you when you haven’t given her your express permission.” “I think I understand.” Nick was still nodding his head. Nick was a little unhappy that it should just be assumed that Sarah was in control of their relationship. He had to concede that he was a useless husband when things were equal and he had to admit that when he took control of the relationship things didn’t go well at all. “I feel like I should be taking notes.” Nick said with a little smile. George laughed. “I don’t mean to lecture.” George said, “But I’m a bit more experienced at this stuff. I know it can be scary putting all your trust in one person and I know what it feels like where they damage that trust. The point is that you two are made for each other and you guys can make this work.” “I just… I never saw myself like this.” Nick blushed a little, “I didn’t realise that “this” even exists!” “But here you are.” George smiled. Nick stayed quiet. “Maybe we should play for a bit.” George suggested, “Mistress is going to be with Sarah for a little while I think.” “Really?” Nick asked. He was curious as to what was going on downstairs, “Do you know what they are doing?” “I don’t know what’s happening down there exactly, just that Mistress is making sure your wife knows a little more about BDSM.” George hesitated. He wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew from the way Kirsty had been acting and speaking that something would be going on “Her methods are a bit more… Practical.”

Everybody has an opinion. Everybody is entitled to an opinion. I’ll give you an example Christine, in my opinion your post I quoted above is obnoxious. I feel this way because you take what is your opinion and treat it like it is fact enshrined in an encyclopedia. I’m talking about this here: “Having switched in late age, Jenner is considered a phony who is trying to be relevant again”. This is just an opinion and I would defend your right to it on any day but you seem to have trouble recognizing the difference between your opinion and facts. I felt compelled to try to help. You seem to have done it here too: “not having had full surgery, the claim of being “a woman” gets either laughed at or people just having a WTF moment”. This statement leaves me wondering what people? You could have said I think Jenner is a joke because..... and I wouldn’t be writing this post. I’ll give you another example of how this works. I think your post shows how bigoted you really are despite the fact that you are a self identified sissy and little girl. Now I’ll get to another issue I have with your post. You seem to be under what I personally consider a mistaken belief that if a transgender person doesn’t have surgery they are not a “real woman” or by inference a “real man”. I am transgender and not ashamed to identify as such. I have not had surgery and I’m not ashamed of this fact either. I do not feel like I’m “not a real woman” despite your opinion. You, do not get to decide who is a real anything, you simply get your opinion. I’m not a fan of Caitlyn Jenner as far as the transgender community is concerned. That is a fact because it’s a statement of how I personally feel. Regardless of that I will defend her right to be the woman she says she is. I also take issue with you saying “having switched in late age”. What difference does her age of transition make? I started mine at almost 40, do I get disqualified because I’m above the age limit? The reason young people are able to transition is because we of the previous generations blazed a trail for them. Hugs, Freta

My god, I'll have to get a PhD in Gender Studies to figure out which one I fit under.

I mean, I think we'd all be terrible protagonists in the stories that I right. Ex: Suddenly Bill was in diapers and everyone thought of him as nothing more than a baby. "Huh," Bill said leaning back in his newly manifested playpen. "well alright then." THE END

Suddenly Magic After there was only pit black darkness to see I tried to start some kind of conversation with my newly instated butler. -So, where are we going? -To the royal country house, at the Fine Flowers Fields of Findus. -OK, so what weird thing I should expect there? -The Fine Flowers Fields are as common as it can get, Master Justin, lots of extensive fields, full of flowers, just like the Netherlands. -Like where? -You probably know it as Holland, master Justin. -Oh! Are there any windmills? -Unfortunately, no. The local wind is quite lazy, and very irreverent, rendering any kind of wind powered contraption useless. -Oh! -Any more questions, master Justin? I didn’t get how wind could be lazy, or have a personality, for that matter, but I’ve just seen black burning horses plunge the carriage we were in into the shadows, so I let it slide, doubly so because there was something really bothering me. -Why do you call me master Justin? Why not just Justin? -Because you’re my new master, master Justin, and as such I should address you properly. -But it’s so long, and weird, don’t you get tired of it? And it’s completely impractical. -My personal opinion on the subject does not matter, master Justin, besides, proper manners aren’t about being practical, but respectful. However, I see your distress, would you rather I call you young master, or your highness, or just master? -Somehow those sound even weirder, just let me know if you think of a different way to call me. -I will sure do, master Justin. And with that conversation killer, I got my phone and played a few games for what seemed like an hour, than tried to open Spotify, just remembered Bill sent me a new playlist he compiled called “To pass awkward times quickly”, but apparently there's no reception inside the shadows, so I did what I do best, complained. -How much till we reach, what was it again? The F place. -Findus, master Justin, and it should be another hour till we reach our destination. -Another hour?! Man, I wish I had paid that premium, another hour... and no music. I sighed. -If it's music you want, master Justin, I can provide that. -What, you have an MP3 player with you? -I don't have any kind of musician in my possession, specially one of such an exquisitely named instrument, if that is what you want to know, master Justin, but I can have any music you want played. -How? -This way. Then he snapped his fingers, and music started playing, the sound came from everywhere, like I was in the middle of an orchestra while they were playing, it’d put even Bill’s super expensive mega blaster deep sound headphones to shame. -But… but, how? -Magic, master Justin, just like the horses leading it and this carriage aren't from your world, so am I, and this is one of my many abilities. -Wait, so magic is real? Like, wizards and witches and dragons and elves and all other fantasy stuff? -Yes, in a way. -And you can assure me that you, and all of this, are real, and I’m not dreaming or hallucinating or on drugs or anything like that? -Last time I checked I was pretty much real, but if it would soothe you you could let me touch you, master Justin. -That won’t do, pinch my arm, as hard as you can. -But, master Justin, causing you harm, that would be… I needed to make sure I didn't fell asleep at the cafeteria without noticing, and had the suspicion that if I tried to pinch myself he would stop me. Then a scene from that one anime Anna and Wendy made me watch at the handcrafts club came to mind, I had an idea. -Correct me if I’m wrong, I’m you master, so, if give you an order, it’s absolute, right, like, you have to do it. -In most cases that is correct, master Justin. -Pinch me Sebastian, that’s an order! -If you insist, young master. I extended my arm and he pinched it, and by God, it hurted! It even made a bruise. So I wasn’t dreaming, at least, I don’t remember consuming anything suspicious,I mean, Dora wouldn't spike my lunch, she had a strict no drugs policy, so they could be ruled out for now, which left me to hallucination, but this was too much detailed, not much colorful, and doesn’t had a clear feeling about it, so probably not an hallucination, as far as I knew. So, as good old mr. Holmes would say “When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” which in this case meant Magic! Real Magic, with a capital M, not sleight of hand and cold reading, nor huge intricate apparatuses, nor some mystic mumbo jumbo, Magic that made dragons and elves and dwarves and heroes and dark lords and epic quests and wizards and kingdoms to be saved, the possibilities were endless, I could be a hero in the making, or possess a dormant unique special power that would save the world, which are kinda the same, but you get the gist of it, I would finally be someone important, and Sebastian said I was going to meet a queen, she probably needed me to save her magical kingdom, and would send me in a quest to recover some ancient artifact of power that was lost for ages and things like that. -Here we are, master Justin. I was daydreaming about fighting a dragon with a magic sword at the top of some impossibly high mountains when he called for me, I must had been lost in thought, amazed by the idea of Magic, cause only then I noticed light coming from the windows, outside, extending till the horizon, were fields of really small and thin roses, almost like grass, from all the colors you could imagine, and some more you couldn’t, all impossibly bright, but not painful to look, beautiful don’t even start to describe it. The carriage slowed down till it came to a halt, and a small tap could be heard on the top. -This is our stop, master Justin. We came out of it to the light of two shining suns, both silvery, at our front stood a high fenced silver gate that mimicked the flowers from the fields, sided by a silvery hedge as tall as it. -Here’s my limit, see ya, young master, watchdog. Reginald said, guiding the horses to plunge into the gate’s shadow, quickly disappearing into it. Sebastian fished a watch from his pocket. -Just in time for the preparations, let’s go, master Justin. -Preparations? -But of course, even though her majesty is your grandmother, you have to be at least presentable, to have tea with the queen. Yeah, that made sense, wait, grandmother? The queen? I kinda overlooked that. And tea, tea meant talking, probably a healthy dose of small talk, which meant talking about mom, surely she would want to talk about mom, the thing is, I’d rather spend all my lunches till graduation alone than talk about mom, but refusing to talk to the queen, wouldn’t that get me arrested? The gates opened on their own, and as we entered the royal property, I debated the pros and cons of magical prison in my mind.

Just wanted to say goodluck from across the border Shallotte. And hit me up anytime to talk. My wife doesn’t understand but she excepts the wearing. If I can help I will.

When you get this, you know you've made the right choice It's not for everyone but for some of us there's no other way. Bettypooh

New School 3 We moved everything. The company mom was going to be working for had found us an apartment in a rather nice leafy part of town. Most of our neighbours either had jobs at the facility or were somehow connected in the supply chain. The Academy was for ‘special’ children but, as I hadn’t needed to pass any entrance exams or attend any interviews, I was grateful to mom for finding a place where she was convinced I’d be ‘settled’. A new beginning in a strange place was a little daunting but mom had done her best to find a location where we’d both be happy. I was more than OK with this, I knew she wouldn’t have taken us anywhere we were going to feel outcasts or lonely. So now, just after my twelfth birthday, she thought it time I met others who shared my interest. * I thought it a little odd that this school term started a few weeks before I expected but put this down to different education authorities having their own programme which we, as outsiders, would simply have to get used to. On that first morning I was incredibly surprised to find mom had laid out my school uniform and just what that ‘uniform’ comprised of. I looked at her in a very quizzical way but she was all smiles and encouragement and told me everything would be alright. She was also keen to help me dress and turned my doubts into a series of giggles and laughter. Whatever reservations I had mom certainly wasn’t sharing them as I was joyfully made ready. Mom took me to the Academy, a large imposing building on the outskirts of the city and knocked on the rather grand oak door. She had made sure I was dressed correctly – not the uniform I had to wear at my last school but something different; diaper, plastic pants, onesie tightly holding it all together, pacifier and my comfort blanket. My backpack held replacements and extra disposables instead of books but mom said that the ‘teachers’ at this school would make sure I had everything else I needed and not to worry. The outfit I thought was rather strange for the first day of term but she assured me I’d be OK. By now I really loved being dressed and cared for as a baby, even though I knew school would prove awkward. However, this was strange even in my strange world of dress-up. I briefly wondered if mom was returning me to kindergarten and I’d be spending my time with pre-schoolers, which actually didn’t bother me that much if she did. Although I liked all these babyish things I was worried that my fixation (as mom occasionally called it) might look bizarre and uncomfortable out in the real world. Up until that moment, the only place I’d worn this type of clothing was in the privacy of my own home. But I trusted mom completely and, no matter how nervous I was, knew she wouldn’t let me be somewhere that wasn’t safe. * The door swung open and a lady, dressed like a very up-market nurse, greeted us. “Ah, Mrs Grohm and… Davey… isn’t it?” She smiled and beckoned me and mother in. I sucked on my pacifier as I suddenly felt very shy, vulnerable and way out of my depth. “Mrs Grohm,” she looked over to mother still smiling her cheerful welcome, “how wonderful of you to bring you sweet baby boy Davey here… “ She looked questioningly at mom. “Is it OK to call him by that name?” I was still nervously looking down at my thick diaper and the way it was bulging out around my onesie, the snaps emphasising just how thick my protection was. Mom tried to clarify. “David is the new boy so, if that’s how the academy refer to their, er, students?” Now it was mom’s turn to look a little bit unsure. The nursey looking lady beamed. “Davey is such a friendly name and we want all our babies and toddlers to be happy here.” She continued, “Let me show you around and I’m sure Davey will soon fit in.” * ‘Babies and toddlers’ it was three words that hit me right between the eyes. Surely that wasn’t what mom was expecting me to become, was it? I know I enjoyed playing my part and being delighted when she let me wear the clothing but, a place where I was expected to be a baby all the time? I just couldn’t believe mom would want that. The school was set out like a huge nursery. As I walked in there were about twenty to thirty other ‘kids’ charging around wearing toddler clothes or just their diapers. Their ages ranged from maybe five to fifteen, maybe sixteen, maybe older but the place was alive with noise, fun, laughter, shouting, squealing, screaming, crying and that overpowering smell of babies – urine and powder. “Sweetheart,” she squeezed my hand to get my attention. “For the next few weeks I’m going to be very busy with my new job.” I could tell what she was about to say was going to be difficult for her. “Because of that I wanted to give you something that I thought, er, hoped would be a place where you’d be happy.” She gave me a sorrowful look. “So, you will be staying here with these nice people for the time I’m away…” * The reality struck - Mommy was leaving me here to live as she thought I’d like. A situation I was okay with at home but doubted I wanted to live all the time… and without her around to… well… be there for me. She’d wanted it to be a nice surprise but I was in shock. I think she knew that if she’d told me she had to go away for any length of time I’d be upset and possibly a little too emotional to be left and I probably wouldn’t have given the Academy a chance. As mom explained, it was several weeks before I needed to start school properly but she had to go on courses and generally be unavailable to me for a few weeks and hoped this would be a wonderful and welcome surprise. When she saw the colour drain from my face, my shoulders slump and my face screw up ready to bawl, she realised that perhaps it wasn’t that great an idea after all. I certainly didn’t want to be parted from mom. We’d never been apart and I could see that the separation was going to be as difficult for her as it was for me. There were tears in her eyes and my blubbing was muffled by sucking on my pacifier. I’d never felt more like a vulnerable and sad little toddler. “Sweetheart, I thought you’d be happy.” My tears told her otherwise. * To be continued…

7.) Her Refusal Ugh, she was such a bitch! I leaned against the wall in the hallway. I knew better. I knew she was goading me. I knew she was trying to get under my skin. But it still sucked. When lunch came, when the tone sounded, we all went to the table. I sat in my spot across from Annie. I didn't drink the bottle this time. I wasn't going to get willingly drugged by these lunatics. "Make sure dwink your baba." "You probably should." That came from Ayla. She'd been absent for breakfast, and of all the girls here, looked the most remarkable. She looked, spoke and acted like a teenage girl of about fifteen. She didn't seem like an experiment like the others. "Nope." They'd all try to convince me because they were products of this place. I knew that. And I was sure I'd get punished, whatever punishments were here. I didn't even know. I wasn't very afraid, though. I was interested. I wanted to know what they'd do to me to try to get me to conform. Some might say I was tempting fate, but fate had ensured I wasn't going to lose myself to this place. All I was doing now was trying to have fun in such a boring facility. There was a light above the table, in Velvet's red-ish color, and her sound rang as well. "That's your warning that you're almost out of time to finish your meal." Ayla had a pasta dish, with garlic bread, though the portion was small. The girls here were strictly calorie controlled. "Honestly, anything's better than sitting around and playing with blocks." I'd probably regret that statement. I played with the bottle, but I didn't put it anywhere near my lips. If they'd just give me some milk that wasn't drugged, it wouldn't be such a problem, would it? Like, I didn't mind the bottle, even if it was impractical. Everybody left the table when they finished, almost all around the same time, and that left the boy sitting there with the bottle. And shortly thereafter, two orderlies approached the boy, the larger of the two, with a bald head a beard, frowned. "You are refusing your meal, Velvet?" "That's not my naaaaaaame," I sighed, looking at the bottle. "Are you refusing your meal?" Did I have to answer? What if I didn't answer? Was this some protocol bullshit? If they'd ask nicely, maybe I'd even do it. Nah, I wouldn't. I was in such a bad mood after my meeting with Colette. I just wanted something exciting to happen. "Yes. I'm refusing." One orderly each grabbed the boy’s arms, though with their size advantage, one of them alone could have taken him. He didn't cry out as he was led through the security checkpoint door, and then into an adjacent room in the hall. It was a simple room. A television. A metal chair, bolted to the ground, with restraints. The boy was strapped in with little effort. "Velvet Duke, you have committed a Level 1 offense." "This isn't a courtroom, dude. I don't need to be read my rights or anything. Just get on with it." Ugh, how boring. The men strapped me into the chair. There was a TV in front of me. Was I going to have to watch TV? Oh no, not The Golden Girls... or was it a hypnotism trick? I'd dealt with this before. It was such a joke. This whole place was a joke. The television displayed an image of a man with a mustache. He spoke clearly. "You will be asked a series of questions. Failure to provide the expected response will result in punishment." That was it. Simple. Questions would flash up on the screen. Difficult ones at first. 88x172. 10 seconds to answer each one. Only, as the boy would find out, he would be electrocuted for providing the correct answer. He was expected to answer incorrectly. And the questions ranged from math, to geography, to logic puzzles, and would run for an hour. Training him to give wrong answers. Training him to be just a little bit... dumber. "Uh... 15 thousand... uh... one hundred... um..." And a bolt of electricity shot through the chair. I screamed out, twitching in the chair, and fell back into it as the current stopped. My breathing immediately became erratic. There were tears in my eyes. Real tears. Fuck, fuck, fuck... "What is the capital of the United States." Once again, the boy provided the correct answer, and was shocked. "What color is a mix of red and blue." Purple. Electrocution. "Which planet is closest to Earth?" "What year was the declaration of independence signed?" "What year were women allowed to vote." And so on. Shocks for right answers. No shocks for wrong answers. I was sobbing in the chair. I couldn't help it. It hurt so badly. My hair would rise on its own. My body shook, endlessly, and I couldn't catch my breath. "What is eleven times five." "F...fif..." I winced, shaking my head. "Fifty...f-four..." No shock... It wasn't 54. It was 55. I knew that. They wanted me to give the wrong answers? I could do that... "How many stars make up the Big Dipper?" "Fifty-four." No shock. "What is a young cat called?" "Fifty-four." A shock, throughout my whole body again, and I started to sob. I gave them the wrong answer, fuck!! The program wasn't automated. Unseen, adjacently roomed, was the orderly. The boy had to try, had to give the right answer, or want to, and then give the wrong one. He couldn't cheat. And worse, the questions were getting easier as the program went on. Some inmates endured dozens of these programs, conditioning them to become a little less smart every time. "What is the color of the sky?" "...purple..." No shock. "How many seconds are in a minute?" "...a hundred..." They were so stupid now. I knew the right answer. I'd just answer wrong. That was easy. I could answer wrong. It didn't teach anything. I wasn't being conditioned to anything! I knew the right answer! I'd just give the wrong one! About midway through, the pattern changed. The questions become specific. "What is your name?" Velvet would't elicit a shock, everything else would. "Are you a girl?" Yes meant no shock. No meant a shock. "Are you a baby?" Shocks for arguing. These shocks, too were significantly more painful. Tell them what they wanna hear... that's all I had to do. And after following up with the answers to lies, it was... obnoxiously easy. "What is your name?" "Velvet." "Are you a girl." "Yes." "Are you a baby?" "...yes." Three things I would have lied about anyway. No shocks. It was like the designer of this thing was a complete idiot. I smiled to myself. Lie, lie, lie... The second half of the test now provided shocks no matter the answers given. Back to general knowledge. But shocks no matter what. Shocks for right and wrong, shocks of fierce calibre. He'd been trained to lie, then to tell the truth, and now, neither was a path to victory. Now, for twenty five minutes, he would be shocked, and the word 'Failure' would flash up after every answer given. I tried so hard. I tried to get it right. I tried to get it wrong. I tried everything! I was falling apart. The shocks weren't meant for my size. Meant for someone bigger, I bet. I couldn't handle it. I was sobbing. I was crying so hard I'd miss whole questions. I'd pissed myself long ago, urine all over the floor, soaking my dress. I couldn't figure it out... I couldn't find the right answers... Finally, at the end of the marathon of shocks, one final question flashed up. "Are you a good girl?" The question mark blinked slowly, tauntingly. The room spelled of ammonia, and the boy was soaked, and every bit of hair on his lithe body crackled like tiny insects chirping. "Y-yes... I..I'm a good girl... I'm a good girl..." I couldn't stop sobbing. Even the words broke as they came out. This was a Level 1 punishment. This was the easiest of them. I didn't even get it! I didn't understand what the punishment was! I didn't know what it was trying to teach me, or... or anything. I just felt so lost and pathetic... The boy was dropped in his room by the orderlies, not cleaned up, not explained to. Just dropped on the floor. And sitting on the dresser, in front of him, was the bottle. Waiting. Above it, the burgundy light lit up, and the boys sound chimed. The expectation was clear. None of the girls came to see him, they knew he'd earned his first punishment. And now all he need do was contemplate his second. I stumbled to my feet, pulling myself to the bright flashing light. I grabbed the bottle and fell straight to the floor. I couldn't stop crying. The bottle went between my lips and I sucked on it, warm milk splashing my tongue. I just couldn't be punished again. I couldn't have that happen again...

Funny you should say that. Over a year ago when I was out of town Christmas shopping I stopped at some thrift and Goodwill stores. One store I stopped in was a Salvation Army store and they had some packs of adult diapers. Attends 4 tape cloth backed. I usually get these at Goodwill for about $3.99 a bag. The Salvation Army wanted over $12 a bag! I went right across the street to the Goodwill store and they had Prevails, cloth backed same size and amount per pack for $3.99. As it was Tuesday, I got the 1/2 off price, $1.99 per pack. The way I see it, donated items to charity or Goodwill are meant to pass along to others in need, not rape the needy with high prices like you get in a retail store!

IT’S ALL A JOKE, TILL SOMEONE FILLS THEIR DIAPER! Then, it’s sorry, sorry, sorry!

If you wanna be kicked in the ball(s), sure

4.) Her Secondary Doctor I started picking up some of the blocks, giggling to myself. And then I thought about putting the blocks in order. And then I was stacking them. Everyone else had finished eating, and I was now playing like a child would with the colorful cubes. I would laugh when they'd fall over, or I'd spell out words that didn't make sense. And I'd laugh. I just couldn't help it. "Well, if it isn't our newest angel." The man wore alligator skin shoes that looked tacky like the 1980's had thrown up on his feet, and his tan pants were well-pressed, but it didn't stop his slightly awkward gait from being noticed. He knelt down next to the boy, his top unbuttoned one button too far, and his teeth too straight to be real or natural, when he smiled. Oh, and did he smile. He smiled at the boy, and nobody else looked at him. "What are you building here, hmm, princess?" "Uh... mm... nothing..." I shuffled to my feet, trying to stand up to meet the man. He was taller than me. Who wasn't, though? At least a foot. Colette only had four inches on me. I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the man. Ugly shoes... "...um, I'm Alexander... nice to meet you!" I put my hand out for him to shake. Honestly, I wasn't trying to be difficult. I totally forgot about the name thing! My head wasn't in the right place. "My name is Doctor Marlow." His face was sour at the use of the boy’s birth name, but this once, and only this once, he would overlook it. "The other girls told me that your name is Velvet. Now, why would they say that if it weren't true, hrmm? Do you think maybe you made a little mistake, my child?" I puffed out my cheeks a little bit and lowered my hand. He didn't shake it. "Velvet's a stupid name," I muttered, rubbing my eyes a bit. Everything was a little bit cloudy. I turned away from the man and climbed back down to my feet, sitting in the puddle on the floor. I blinked, looking down at the wet spot, and then up at the girl on the sofa. She just shook her head, curling her knees to her chest. Why was the floor wet...? "Well it does seem as though you've had a little accident, doesn't it, Velvet?" He smiled, again, that same smile that looked so harmless. That cheerful, warm tone, like a father in the 1950's addressing his family at Thanksgiving. He took the boy’s hand and pulled him to his feet, turning him around. "Well this doesn't make any sense at all, now, does it? Somebody silly put you in big-girl undies." My cheeks went a little pink and I looked up at him through my glasses. Maybe my prescription was off - that would explain the fuzziness. But it didn't explain my attitude. The embarrassment of wetting myself. The frustration at his words. "I'm not a girl!" Wow. That wasn't like me at all... "I... I mean... don't call me Velvet..." "Well, that's an awful lot of requests coming from somebody who just tinkled on the floor." Warm. It was hard to see why everybody else was so afraid of him. He took the boy’s glasses off, and tucked them into his shirt pocket, smiling. "How about you choose? I can call you a girl, or I can call you Velvet. Which would you prefer?" "I..." He took my glasses. I could barely even see straight. I blinked up at the blur that was his face and rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands. Everything was so out of focus... "Um..." "Do you want me to call you a girl?" I shook my head. "Do you want me to call you Velvet?" I shook my head. "Which would you rather?" "...um... V-Velvet..." Because I wasn't a girl... "Let's get you cleaned up, then, Velvet." There were some key differences between Doctor Marlow and Colette. Where Colette valued procedure and routine, Marlow was opportunistic. He believed himself to be above everybody else on this program, and if he spontaneously wanted to hypnotize a patient, that was exactly what he would do. He held my hand and walked me out of the room. The girls all watched while it happened. I followed behind him in the wet nightgown, rubbing my eyes while I did so. I stumbled once, tripped over a block or something, and had to hurry to keep up with him. I didn't like not wearing my glasses... "You're such a pretty one, Velvet." He hadn't begun until he had the boy inside of his office, and he lifted him without stress onto a gurney along one of the walls. "So much prettier than those other girls, aren't you? They'll never be as pretty as you are, Velvet. You're above them." He helped the boy to lay onto his back, and then brought a rotating lamp over above him, switching it on. There were colored LEDs in the enclosure, hundreds of them, different colors, moving slowly and lazily from one to another. Easy to follow, even for a boy without his glasses. I rubbed my eyes again, trying to turn my head. His office wasn't warm or inviting. There was an examination table and a sofa in Colette's room, but here there was a hospital gurney and tile floors. It looked more like a research lab. It was also the second door, the one by Colette's. I tried to blink the colors away, but the spinning green dot kept moving. It spun circles around me... "I'm going to get you all cleaned up, Velvet. Clean and dry. And so you don't wriggle away by accident, and get a booboo, I'd like you to focus on the light above you. It's pretty, isn't it? Pretty like you are. Focus on the light and try to say still." The activation factor of the milk made things a little brighter, easily distractible, difficult to focus. Easy to obsess. With his glasses off, the light program, which, even now, was speeding up steadily, would expose his subconscious quicker than any hypnotic induction could. Colette was so behind the times. My eyes fluttered at the speed of the light. My breathing was heavy. Everything was still and quiet and magically brilliant. I just felt so relaxed. Everything felt so nice... and I felt the underwear tugged off me, but I didn't move or say anything. It was just... nice. "A pretty little thing like you needs a pretty name, Velvet." No induction. No wasted time. To the point, and effectual. Yes, there had been issues with the test subject, but it hardly mattered in the face of results. "You love being called pretty. And your name is so pretty, Velvet. Such a pretty word, a pretty name, a pretty thing to touch. Being called by your name, Velvet, makes you feel pretty, a pretty girl, a pretty smile, a pretty thing to touch. It makes you well up with pride. Proud to be so pretty, proud to have a pretty name. No other name even makes sense, no other name is pretty enough." "...pretty," I muttered. My eyes fluttered closed, but the weird green light still spun in my head. Like it had burned into my eyes. I couldn't not see it. It was perpetual. I felt a little dizzy, but I always did without my glasses. And the milk made it so much worse... "And a pretty name could only be for a pretty girl, so you must be a pretty girl, it's so easy to understand. You're pretty, so your name’s Velvet. You're pretty, so you're a girl. Velvet is a girl’s name. Velvet is a girl, Velvet is you, you are a girl. You love your name, Velvet. You love being reminded how pretty you are. Like lightning through your pretty body. Tingles up your spine. You feel them now, each time you hear your name. Velvet. Velvet." The little light flicked off. I had no idea how long it had been. The man sat me up on the table, and when he did, my ass crinkled with me. A diaper? And my nightgown was taken off, replaced by a flouncy dress, a childish one, that barely came to my thighs. I felt my cheeks turn a little pink. This was so stupid... "Velvet, you can go play with the other girls now. Say thank you, now, Velvet. It's important to have good manners." The boy had been putty, had been pliable, had been simple. Confident people always were. To think that he had been in the field, he had been so knowledgable. That was why Marlow's techniques were better — nobody could ever plan for it. "Velvet, do you hear me?" "...that's not my name," I muttered, sliding down off the table. The man was taller than me, so much taller than me, and he looked down at me with disbelief. My fingers went out and tapped his chest, finding my glasses in his pocket, and putting them back on my eyes with shaky fingers. My head was killing me... "My name is Alexander," I said flatly, and with a deep breath, "and you shouldn't toy with things you don't understand." I closed the door behind me.

That is basically a carbon copy of my start! I wet the bed until about 6 years old, wore cloth diapers and plastic pants to bed every night and when I was about 4-1/2 to 5 years old I remember becoming excited one night that I was wearing diapers and plastic pants. That feeling never left really me and when I was about 12 I used a couple Pampers I swiped from visiting relatives diaper bags in my underwear and had my first orgasm. That really hooked me on diapers at that point.

So, I'm happy to announce that the next three days (Dec 24-260 will have a chapter-length piece released each day, leading up to the end of Issue 2 Thank you, everyone for bearing with me. I've been so excited to get to this point and share it with you all. I'm grateful beyond words for all my readers and comments, and look forward to beinging you more of Bridget's adventures, as well as some new stuff, in the new year. As always, questions and comments are welcome, and start thinking of your favorite chgaracter, because we're going to have another poll at the end (Yay voting!) Without further ado, here's Issue 2: Chapter 12 Part 1: The Gala “Come on, Sami, give her a break,” Stell cut in, frowning at her teammate. “But- Dean Takeda's-” Sami sputtered. “She's up on stage, so she doesn't need a seat, it's fine.” With a sigh, Sami relented. Bridget's cheeks just got redder, and she wished in that moment that she could just use her powers to disappear. But Stell, at least, didn't seem to mind; she gave Bridget a small smile, and turned her gaze back to the speaker. If the gesture was intended to be calming, it had exactly the opposite effect on Val. <<What's your game, glow-worm? Don't think we'll buy your facile display of kindness, even for a second,>> she muttered. Bridget, meanwhile, took advantage of the lull in conversation to get a good look around the table at the rare sight of the Stalwart Six decked out in their finest. Leanne had replaced her functional, insulating bodysuit and its practical black for the crisp, pressed blue of a military dress uniform. It had no rank or insignia, save a pin in the shape of a bronze eagle with an ornate crown, and the letters “RAF” beneath its outstretched wings. She leaned back, confident, and relaxed, so that the light glinted off the golden buckle in her white belt. Bridget felt an inexplicable desire to say something about it, but her tongue felt fat in her mouth, and all her usual wit just evaporated the second Leanne glanced her way with her piercing blue eyes. Her second-in-command, meanwhile, was expending considerably less effort to appear alert and attentive as the remarks droned on. Isis wore a strapless dress in forest green, and was idly fiddling with her silver cartouche necklace, and looking longingly toward the exit back out into the hall. She turned toward Stell, giving Bridget her first good look the single ankh-shaped bronze earring dangling from her right earlobe. “Hey Sparkle, you doing okay?” Isis asked her white haired teammate. “Our fearless leader told me you had a fly-in with Ironclad and her laser batteries earlier today.” Stell put her hand to her chin as she thought for a moment. “Oh, yeah,” she said distractedly. “She sure was a...something. I'm good, though.” <<The unmitigated gall of this Star Warden, showing off her powers like that, and bearing the emblem of her people so brazenly!>> Val fumed. Huh, what do you mean? Bridget asked, bemused by Val's sudden vitriol. <<She's using her power to turn her hair white, and that emblem on her chest is essentially the battle flag of the Luminous Princeps.>> Bridget had been too busy looking at Leanne to pay Stell's outfit much attention, but she looked again and saw what Val meant. The Stalwart Six's fashion designer had made herself a dark navy halter top, and a short matching skirt. The front of her top looked like a field of stars, a smattering of white dots, all dominated by a single large star with sharp points in each of the four cardinal directions, with four more points detached from the star's main body. The whole emblem looked like a cosmic compass rose. Oh. But why would she do that? Shouldn't she be trying to keep a low profile? <<Yes. But beings of pure luminous energy aren't usually much for subtlety or subterfuge.>> Bridget tried to puzzle out what Stell's purpose could be, but her train of thought was interrupted again by another question from Isis. “Still just the rockets and the light show, though, right?” Isis asked in an urgent whisper, “No soulreaper cannon or runic tracery on her armor ar anything?” “Nope. Just the same stuff as last time. I don't think Kimmy was helping her.” “Well, that's good at least.” Isis gave a soft sigh and slouched back in her chair. “Now that she's started ripping out people's souls for sheer fun, the last thing we need is her to be going around making friends.” As the Stalwart six comtinued their hushed discussion, an Asian woman in a dark suit, with black hair and bifocals, ascended the stage and began speaking. As she did, Sami leaned forward eagerly. “Leanne, we're on once Dean Takeda's done, right?” Sami asked. She tried to suppress it, but Bridget could hear the nervousness in her sister's voice. Her team leader gave a curt affirmative nod. The rest of the Stalwart Six remained resolute in ignoring the proceedings, continuing their review of their last mission. Kendra, clad in a sharp-looking maroon suit, was typing away on what looked like a smart phone. Knowing her, though, it was probably much smarter than the average device. “What I can't figure out,” she said, staring intently down at the screen, “is who the other person there that night could have been. Those two Hellbloods were talking about a kid.” Bridget barely managed to bring a hand up to her mouth in time to stifle a gasp, and turned away, trying desperately to find anything else to stare at besides the Six's tactician, and willing away the enormous lump that had abruptly formed in her throat. “That's probably Kimmy again,” Isis replied. “I have no idea why, but she loves pretending to be a kid for some reason.” Bridget let out a small sigh of relief, and turned back to the table, hoping that the blush in her cheeks wouldn't give her away. At this Phoebe let out a particularly unsubtle cough, and steepled her black gloved fingers. The black blindfold traced with silver runes over Phoebe's eyes made it difficult to read her facial expressions, but her irritation was obvious beneath it. “Well, whoever wrecked her diagrams had at least basic magical knowledge,” she pointed out, “and Kimmy doesn't seem a likely suspect.” “Maybe it was that Tenkai person,” Stell ventured. “She's young, and definitely likes the magician persona, so she probably knows at least some magic.” Bridget had no idea who Tenkai was, but in that moment, she was intensely grateful they existed. “What do you think, Leanne? You probably have it all figured out, right?” Sami asked, turning toward her leader expectantly. The brown on your nose really matches your uniform, sis. Leanne gave Sami a soft half-smile. “I wish I did. But I'm afraid we'll have to table this discussion, ladies-” At that moment, Leanne was interrupted by Dean Takeda, whose voice rose as she finished her speech with a sweeping gesture toward their table. “..., I present to you, The Stalwart Six!” she said dramatically. “-the stage awaits.” Leanne finished, rising to her feet and making her way toward the stage with a calm and poise that Bridget couldn't help but envy. The rest of the Six rose and fell in line behind her, with Isis second in line, with Stell, as the most junior member, bringing up the rear. <<Well, that was enlightening,>> Val said sarcastically. <<But at least from this distance we can finally get a good look at miss Star Warden up there without her noticing. Bridget, do you remember how we adjusted your sight when we fought Kimmy?>> Yeah, but, um, could you help me? Bridget asked hesitantly, a little ashamed that she hadn't thought to practice that earlier along with all her flying tricks. <<Of course, little one.>> Bridget closed her eyes for a moment, and felt the familiar warmth of Val's presence. <<Now then->> The mental sound of Val's voice suddenly stopped short in surprise. <<Well. That's decidedly not optimal.>> Bridget opened her eyes. Sure enough, the Stalwart Six and the crows of attendees glowed the same soft green that the Hellbloods had, full of life energy. Stell's body did the same, but in her case the green was intertwined with a piercing white glow, the same color as the shooting stars she conjured. But that wasn't what caught Bridget's eye as she looked toward the front of the room. Below the stage where Stell glimmered like a miniature star was the VIP seating area, a long, rectangular banquet table where the bigwigs of business, art, fashion, and finance enjoyed a front row view of the festivities. The entire twelve feet of it was engulfed by a vastsphere of energy that rose to touch the vaulted cathedral ceiling, and sunk down beneath the floor. It swirled and twisted as if it were a miniature world covered in swirling winds. The globe of power was so dark it was almost black, dotted with the tiniest hints of an all-too-familiar purple. <<Voidwalkers,>> Val pronounced gravely. That's a Voidwalker energy signature? It's massive! Bridget's mouth dropped open in disbelief. <<We'll need to investigate. At the very least, we need to find out who here is compromised. Once we know that, we can decide on our next move.>> Up om stage, heedless of the enormous sohere of darkness roiling below her, Leanne began to introduce each of her teammates in turn, describing their contributions in the battle against Dreadnought. Bridget listened long enough to hear about how Isis had “taken the battle to Dreadnought and his minions with unparalleled ferocity and cunning, lending her considerable magical might to the defense of the city,” before she tuned it out, trying as hard as she could to determine which of the people at the VIP table were secretly aliens, wearing human bodies like a set of living formal wear. She squinted and strained, until her eyes hurt, but the energy was so large that, even though, geometrically, it had to be one of the six people at the center, she was unable to determine the source. Five of them were clad in standard formal wear: black suits and ties, or black dresses that were obviously well made, but lacking in individual character. The sixth, however, seemed determined to make up for the drabness of her compatriots. Her dress was a sparkling blue, almost butterfly-like pattern, and her brown hair was done up in loose ringlets that would have made her look childish, if the blue of her eye shadow and the sharpness of her cats-eye makeup weren't so strikingly adult. All of her neighbors were dutifully observing the presentation, but she looked everywhere around the room freely, holding her chin in her hand, as though considering some deep conundrum. <<Well, we can eliminate her as a candidate. No Voidwalker would ever choose such a loud guise for an operation that requires subterfuge,>> Val opined smugly. Bridget was inclined to agree, but that didn't exactly leave them with anything to work with. She briefly considered the idea that all of them could be Voidwalkers, but Val nixed that idea quickly. <<Thankfully, no. Their individual signatures would be much more visible, unless they were actively working to combine them. In such a case, that effort would be obvious even to the humans around us. I'd say there are one or two at most. That said, they're incredibly strong.>>Val tried to keep her voice even and analytical, but Bridget could hear a touch of awe creep in as she concluded her evaluation. Bridget was about to ask Val what she thought they should do, when they were both distracted by a sudden change in the globe of energy. As Leanne finished describing Phoebe and the sonic bolstering she had done to allow the Stalwart Six to fight Dreadnought and his army of minions by themselves, a tendril of dark power extended from the globe, approached Phoebe, and bean to slowly and methodically sliding itself around her body, like the tentacle of a jellyfish grabbing onto a bit of jetsam, searching for a meal. Bridget watched, frozen, unsure of what to do, wanting to shout a warning to Phoebe, who just stood there, impassive as the alien energy writhed over her. Finally, after a few moments that felt like an eternity, the tendril retracted as she acknowledged the crowd's polite applause with a perfunctory nod. The relief that Bridget felt as the Voidwalkers left Phoebe alone was unfortunately short-lived. As soon as Leanne turned her attention to Sami, praising her valor in facing the mechanical monstrosity Dreadnought had piloted in single combat, the black tentacle resumed its work with a new target. This time, however, it was much bolder, and quickly slithered its way around the golden heroine, probing and prodding with certainty. It seemed impossible that Sami wouldn't notice, but whether she was too distracted by the arrival of her moment in the sun, or whether the tendril's phantom touch didn't register with her at all, Bridget couldn't tell. Sami just glowed with happiness, a tiny nimbus of golden light outlining her smiling face. There was only one heroine left to thank, and Stell stood awkwardly while Leanne recounted how she had single-handedly stopped Dreadnought from detonating a device that would have leveled half the city. Val, meanwhile, watched eagerly to see how the Voidwalkers would react to the presence of Stell's glowing-white alien power. But, surprisingly, there was nothing to watch. The gravitic tendril retracted into the dark sphere from which it came, and did not emerge again. <<Hah. Strong, but not so confident to pick a fight here and now. Perhaps my concerns were excessive after all,>> she said, with burgeoning confidence. <<Once these trivial formalities are over, we can continue our investigation in earnest. I'm certain that closer analysis will yield more useful results.>> - P.S. Please don't eat me

Part 6 Mummy was right; no one mentioned the noisy rustling, crinkly sound as he walked by. Crinkle In fact it was safe to say, most people had their own problems and Ryan’s little noise predicament wasn’t one of them. The firm seemed to be going through some changes and everyone was on edge except Ryan. Despite his original reluctance to wear what his mummy had decided, he quite liked this enhanced padded feeling at work. He knew it didn’t matter to any of his work colleagues but yet found his noisy, little secret left him with a knowing smile on his face all day. Crinkle His mother was correct about something else as well; the fact that the padding, coupled with his rowdy silky pants, were a constant reminder that she was supportive, loving and knew what he wanted, even if that was before he was conscious of exactly what that was himself. That hug around his hips was comforting, just like his mummy’s hugs. The thick soft fabric so close to his skin, keeping him safe and secure was everything his mummy was trying to do for her little boy. Even though his bottom was still smarting from the hairbrush he realised that she didn’t want him wasting time worrying about anything, just to accept her love, do what he’s told and enjoy the thing he’d obviously been craving so long. As he walked around his mind was in a very mushy, loving state and he adored what she was doing for him. Crinkle He loved his work but now he couldn’t wait to get home on an evening. Mummy would be there and who knew what development she might have planned. In his head he bounced around the idea of a brightly painted nursery with cartoon characters on the wall. He could see a huge crib with a mobile hanging above it, which played a tinkle-tune lullaby as he drifted off to sleep. He knew this was just fantasy and remembered that only a few days ago he would have rejected the very idea of ever wanting any such thing; the nappy and plastic pants being the sum total of his ‘fetish’. However, things had rapidly changed, his mother had seen to that. No longer was he playing at being ‘little’, she made sure he was now a baby with no responsibility. All he had to do was embrace his mummy’s will, respond to her love and happily drift into a state of perpetual infantilism. Perpetual? This was a dilemma. Wearing a nappy to work was nice and childish and it had to be admitted, gave Ryan quite a thrill, but work itself was far too grown-up for a baby. His mother had thought along these lines since the day she changed from being ‘mother’ to ‘mummy’. From that first ‘crinkle’ hug of acceptance, when Ryan realised his mummy was there for him, she had been developing a strategy to enable her baby boy to be just that. She loved her son and was very proud that at sixteen, when he could have gone on to further education and possibly university, he wanted to work. He was, and is, a sweet and thoughtful boy but, his mother had determined, his need to wear nappies had proved to her that he wasn’t really ready for such responsibility. He did his best and quite successfully but he wasn’t ready. She had decided he needed to return to a time of no stress, no pressure, no responsibility or worries of any kind… her boy was going to return to being the sweet little baby boy who his mummy would do everything for. +++++++++++ The first step was to make sure she had all that was needed. On that first day after the ‘crinkle’ discovery, she set about obtaining those very things. Online she was able to tap in her requests and, thanks to her son’s Paypal account, get much of the stuff delivered. Some of the items were special orders, while others were simple stock products, the rest she could pick up from any pharmacist. On an evening, when he returned from work he was immediately taken to his room where his mother checked his nappy. Occasionally it was wet but, after a day out at work, it definitely needed replacing. Once her son was wiped, cleaned, dried and powdered it was on with a fresh nappy and plastic pants. Sometimes the crinkle ones, sometimes the clear, slippery plastic ones but that was all he was allowed to wear around the house. The smell of lotion and baby powder would greet any visitor, not that there were any of course, and the sight of her son blissfully happy waddling about in a huge nappy emphasised what she already knew. The initial baby dummies she bought were too small for him; they really were for babies and didn’t have enough of a teat for him to suck on. Thankfully, the first things to arrive were the correct sized dummies and feeding bottles so that problem was quickly resolved. The next problem to be undertaken was Ryan’s reluctance to mess himself. His mother understood his problem but he needed to get over it and, rather than resorting to punishment (the hairbrush, though rarely used, remained a permanent threat) she was keen to use other methods. The feeding bottle was just the thing. On the first night she had them, she filled one up with warm milk and added a little extra. His ever encouraging mummy made sure he sucked the entire bottle down just before bed at seven thirty, checked that his plastic pants were tight and fitting securely, pushed a new soft teddy bear into his hands, kissed him good night and waited. In the morning one humiliated and messy boy sat up with tears in his eyes hardly believing what had happened during the night. He hadn’t known it was all down to his mummy but the fact that she was praising and happy to clean him up should have said everything. +++++++++++ However, now she realised there was something else that needed attending to… his hair… to be precise his pubic hair. With poo all squished around it made cleaning her son far fiddlier than it need be. So, she found a large tube of Nair and that night, before bath time, spread it all over her son’s body. Less than a quarter of an hour later, fresh from his soapy paradise, he was hairless apart from that on his head. Sleek and hair-free she smoothed in more lotion and creams, which got her son excited and it was at that point she decided something also needed to be done. Little boys may well want to play with themselves but that impulse definitely needed to be tamed. Ryan was twenty-four and had his own urges that needed to be retrained. Thankfully the solution was online and, judging by some of the web pages she’d looked at previously to determine just what her son liked, she found the very item. The small clear plastic lockable cage arrived on the same day as most of her ‘made-to-measure’ order. On that day everything began to take form. First she typed a letter of resignation, which Ryan would hand to his boss the following day, with immediate effect. Then, once delivered he returned home where his ever loving mother stripped him of his grown up clothing, bathed and informed him from that moment on, he was her precious baby. Ryan wasn’t so sure, his mother discerned he was wavering but she had become a force to be reckoned and had no doubt she knew what was best for her little boy. After more anti-rash cream was rubbed into his groin she attached the little cage thus restricting his pee-pee to a future of confinement. He was surprised at this turn of events and certainly wasn’t happy about it but his acting up soon stopped after a few swats from the ever menacing hairbrush. His mummy had quickly developed a technique that scared, subdued and stung in equal measure. Ryan came to heel the moment it slapped emphatically against is reddened bottom. Now, with the only grown up urge safely controlled behind a plastic cage she wanted her twenty-four year-old son to know his place - and that was wearing a nappy and under her benevolent jurisdiction. Soon the disposables gave way to thick terry nappies and a whole new batch of crinkly, crackly plastic pants was added to his wardrobe. Onesies would become both his day and night ware and short coveralls would be his going out attire. For when he got ‘fussy’, and so there was instant access, a dummy was permanently attached to his clothing, meanwhile, his substantial nappies made sure crawling was the best way of getting about. All his clothes now possessed pop-studs at the crotch so access and changing were made easier. His potty training wouldn’t begin for quite some time so he had no option but to use what mummy had designated. +++++++++++++ Watching his bulky, crackling bottom shuffle or crawl around the room was a complete and utter delight for his mummy and Ryan, well Ryan had to deal with a strange mixture of deep emotions. His ‘little’ fetish was no longer under his control. He was after all twenty-four years old, he had needs and desires that were not catered for by being a baby but those were now under the complete command of his suddenly very dominant, determined and decisive mummy. His occasional bursts of revolt were soon tamed by a few smacks of the hairbrush, which his mother used if needed to get complete and utter compliance. Ryan learned, on an almost daily basis, that he must never be anything more than a cute and acquiescent little baby boy… his needs were second to what his mummy desired. All he had to remember was that his mummy loved him very much and that the only way he could repay that love was to do and be just what she’d determined. His mother did her research. When Ryan had been at work or slept she’d go online and read more stories, features and facts about being an ABDL. She couldn’t believe there were so many other people who enjoyed the same ‘little’ lifestyle that her son ‘enjoyed’. However, she liked the idea that her baby should be just that… she wanted her baby back. She was aware that at his age he had a life of his own to lead but, since she’d discovered there was more to it than just slipping on a nappy, that there were depths and deeper longings, she wanted more for her son and perhaps more importantly, more for herself. She determined that wearing a nappy for so long in secret had been detrimental to his well-being and that nothing less than total immersion in to that lifestyle would make him happy. She felt like she hadn’t done enough to free her son from the shackles he’d had to bear since the day he’d started work. She blamed herself; she’d known about his little fetish and had done nothing for all those years to help her boy. It had been very remiss of her so now she was determined to make amends. She needed something in her life and she couldn’t bear the thought of eventually losing her boy. He needed looking after, that was what all the secret nappy-wearing had been all about so obviously, this was what he wanted. So, the desire to have her baby permanently back would fill her days with immense pleasure and was sure he would feel the same, so, the idea of total regression might be the solution. The more she read about the subject the more convinced it was what her nappy-wearing son wanted… no… needed. He was struggling with his caged wee-wee. He found it frustrating, annoying and desperately wanted rid of it. The lack of access meant he couldn’t do the other thing he liked to do and that was to jerk off into the soft folds of his nappy. He hated this restriction mummy placed on him but his rosy bottom meant that every time he tried to complain, he was dealt a severe blow - he liked the spanking less than filling his nappy with cummies. She was positive that somehow she had to expunge completely his twenty-four year old thoughts. She could do nothing about his body but hoped she could help him become what she… he… desired … a mind that thought only of that second. She’d do more research and start emptying his mind of all his needless thoughts. She had to get him over any reluctance to let go. He needed to know that filling his nappy, playing with toys, cuddling a teddy bear was all she expected of him. Yes, complete regression was the answer. ++++ The hypnotic programme she constantly played through the TV was having an immediate impact as Ryan squirmed and giggled as he watched the colourful images swim around the screen. He quickly learned to cry when his nappy was messy and gratefully hugged mummy once she’d cleaned him up and put him in something dry, soft and comfortable. He loved his new huge nappies and the colourful cartoon plastic pants which cushioned him as he occasionally flopped to the floor. His life was no longer his own… it was his mothers and she only wanted him to respond with smiles, giggles and messy nappies! ++++++++++++++++++ THE END

Issue 2 Chapter 9- Treasure Hunt The ride to the warehouse was long, but it went by in a flash. Unlike Val's previous training exercises, this one was a mischievous kind of fun. She couldn't help but giggle watching the people she passed by on her bike do double takes as she wrapped first one leg, then the other, then an arm, then her whole lower body in a sheath of gravimetric particles. To her, it looked like she was just wearing a pair of eerily glowing purple pants, but Val assured her that the particle field bent light around her, making her half-invisible to any onlooker. Certainly, the onlookers gaped in a way that they wouldn't if she were just another energy-wielding heroine. With St. Rose's nearby, most residents were too used to metahumans to register surprise at things like teenagers with glowing eyes,or hands holding orbs of unspeakable but unspecified power. A reverse headless horsewoman, however, was another matter entirely. <<Well, it seems someone's enjoying herself.>> Val noted wryly, as Bridget was so distracted by giggles that she nearly missed the last turn. Bridget's cheeks flushed pink, though she was certain that this was only because of the cold air, and that neither glee nor embarrassment had anything to do with it. <<Isn't this better than just sitting around and worrying?>> Okay, yes, you're right, this is a lot better. Bridget admitted. But that's a lot coming from someone who's spent the last week freaking out about the imminent Star Warden invasion of Earth. <<I have not been “freaking out,” little miss.>> Val huffed. <<I have displayed a very reasonable degree of concern. It remains entirely possible that this Stell is merely an unusually subtle advance force for a massive legion bent on eliminating all Voidwalkers.>> Sure, Val. Anyway, why are you letting me play with invisibility out in public? Shouldn't we keep it as a secret weapon just in case an entire battalion of space cheerleaders shows up? <<I would have had us practice this normally, but Goldilocks has been up at all hours lately, and I didn't want her catching us.>> Bridget smiled briefly at Val's use of Isis's nickname for her sister. But she also had to admit that Val was right. Sami had been burning the midnight oil ever since the Stalwart Six had returned from their fight against the Hellbloods. No one had dared say anything, but after the fifth night, when Shimmering Nova, who could fly three hundred miles in a day without breaking a sweat, had deep bags under her eyes, they all knew something was wrong. In a circumstance like this, Bridget would normally have felt no small degree of satisfaction, but she knew better than anyone else what her sister was going through. For three days after returning from the Hellbloods' lair, her dreams had been full of serpentine demons and sibilant whispers, all clamoring for her soul. But Bridget doubted that, if Sami was experiencing something similar, she had a reassuring cocoon of Val's violet energy to keep out the monsters, or the gentle sound of cosmic music to drown out the voice of the vengeful serpent goddess. <<I have, however, determined that we need to move more quickly, in case Stell turns out to be a problem. So I'll need you to use what I've just taught you to evade any guards or the like posted around this warehouse, at least until we can enter. Just remember that the concealment isn't perfect: It works on humans that aren't looking for you specifically, or don't have a long time to focus on you at a short distance, but it won't help if you attract too much attention.>> Fair enough, Bridget replied. Mom's already mad at me for sleeping past my therapy appointment on Saturday, and I really don't want to have to explain how I ruined my new coat fighting alien rent-a-cops because the voice in my head told me to. <<Mmm. >> Val said, her unease palpable, <<Another attuned would be able to detect our presence, but hopefully the Hellbloods were a minor-enough group of patsies that the Warmistress won't have wasted personnel to guard a glorified closet.>> They turned the last corner and the gate to the warehouse lot came into view. It certainly didn't look like a mighty bastion for an alien armada, Bridget noted with a sigh of relief, unless there were extra-dimensional force fields to buttress the red and white barrier arm that blocked the road in front of the guard station, or the cramped station's old and flaky paint somehow concealed hyper-advanced materials. The paunchy, bored-looking attendant watching a tiny television with coffee mug in hand was certainly not what she would have chosen to defend he most secret project either, but, then again, she wasn't a centuries-old alien warlord. <<Yes, I know, it doesn't appear very threatening. Still, it's best not to take chances. Ready to disappear, little one?>> Bridget nodded her head and closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of the gravimetric sheath rise from the tip of her toes to the top of her head, then further down to encompass the entire bike in a bright purple glow. The world darkened around her, cast into violet shadow as the field deflected some of the light away from her eyes. It was a little disconcerting in a way that her practice hadn't been, but the snug feeling was actually pleasant. She felt a slight tickle as a tiny tendril of gravitic energy mussed her hair playfully. <<Okay, sweetie, let's go.>> Bridget opened her eyes and pedaled forward obediently, doing her best to ignore the bright purple glow that surrounded her. Thankfully, the sensation of this power was much less disruptive than the eerie feeling of weightlessness while in flight, and she easily slid in the gap between the barrier and the far side of the gatehouse. It needed the slightest nudge to raise it up so that Bridget could be sure she didn't collide with the very tip, but that was easy after all the practice she'd had recently. Then there was the sudden and unmistakable sound of rubber tires colliding with a small, hard obstacle, and a metallic ping as the pebble she'd encountered under the gatehouse flew up into the air and ricocheted off the side of the guard hutch. The guard, hearing the noise, jerked awake from his bored reverie, and looked around confusedly for the source. Bridget sucked in her breath in sudden trepidation, and did her absolute best to coast the rest of the way through as quietly as possible. After a moment, though, he readjusted his position in his chair, sipped his coffee, and turned back to the TV, scratching the stubble of his beard. Bridget grinned ear-to-ear as she opened up more distance between her and the guard post, and Val mentally smiled her approval. Her grin quickly turned to an expression of puzzlement, however, as she realized that the lot was full of warehouses, with a daunting array of company logos emblazoned on the side, from the clean, smooth lines of the ubiquitous Vector Industries “V” to the blocky lettering of G&H Medical Supply. None of them were obviously numbered, and there were no signs to be found. Bridget cursed under her breath. Ugh, how am I supposed to know which one it is? Why didn't I try looking at this in Street View or something? Of course Kimmy found a way to be distinctly unhelpful, even after all that. Ow! Bridget hissed in sudden pain as the ring in her pocket emitted a wave of searing heat that burned the skin of her leg even through the fabric. “Gah! What the hell?” Bridget hissed, jerking her leg in a vain effort to escape the scalding metal. <<It appears that the Warmistress thought just as highly of Darius and the Hellbloods as I did>> Val explained, <<During the Voidwalkers' battle against the Star Wardens, they developed devices like this to give to their allies across the galaxy. They often contained maps to hidden rendezvous points or supply caches.>> “Yeah, but why would you want to make a compass that sets your skin on fire?” <<For especially primitive and brutish species, pain was an obvious form of cross-linguistic communication that didn't require that we waste a valuable Voidwalker on a savage backwater planet.>> “The Warmistress sounds like a real charmer.” <<Quite. At any rate, the pulses should stop as we approach the correct warehouse.>> Bridget gingerly wrapped the ring inside the plastic bag that came with her di- underwear purchase, and held it gingerly as she rode a stealthy ring around the industrial lot, wincing as the ring burned all the while. With great relief, she found that the pulses slowed as she made her way to the north side of the compound. There, the larger warehouses gave way to a mismatched hodgepodge of smaller bins and the logos of big brand names like Pinnacle were replaced by those of obscure foreign companies she'd never heard of. Finally, the ring produced a jolt of pleasant warmth, a reward for the dog that had managed to follow its master's commands. Bridget found herself standing of a squat grey warehouse that looked like little more than a rectangular slab of concrete. The words HYAMS FREIGHT CO. were emblazoned in precise red lettering on the front. Huh, I wonder what kind of company that is? It sounds German or something. <<Mm. It will bear further investigation. But for now, we should see what the Warmistress has hidden here.>> Bridget nodded, and walked toward the door of the warehouse. Incredibly, it was unlocked. Nice! Looks like they didn't think to use “primitive” security measures like keys. Their loss! Bridget gloated to herself. Her smug joy was, unfortunately, short-lived. It's empty? She thought in disbelief. She looked around th empty warehouse, but saw only trails of dust. <<Not quite. Look at the ring.>> The purple amethyst inset in the ring had turned a deep, impenetrable black. Bridget held it up to her face to get a closer look, when the gem let out a low hum. The open doorway in front of Bridget was suddenly blocked by a barrier of the same inky hue. <<Just as I suspected.>> Val said with satisfaction. <<The ring keys to a dimensional gate. The warehouse is just a convenient threshold for an entrance to a pocket dimension where the actual goods are stored. Without equipment that's far beyond current human capability, the cache would never be found.>> <<Well, little one, let's see what we'll find.>> Bridget gulped. She had no reason to doubt Val's analysis, but the blackness in front of her was filled with foreboding. It absorbed all the ambient light around it, and rippled when her finger touched its surface, even though it felt like she was moving her hand through empty air. Bridget held her breath in anticipation, and turned her head as she barreled through to the other side, just so it would feel less like she was ramming herself into a solid wall. But, just as Val had said, there was no impact, only a sudden chill, and deafening sound of total quiet. Bridget looked around. Instead of the dusty warehouse with faded walls that she'd expected, polished metal gleamed silver from every surface. Open crates and their discarded lids covered the floor. <<Interesting. This looks like one of the shipboard storage areas, but they've removed access to any of the other areas of the flagship, and any obviously Voidwalker technology.>> Bridget made her way over to one of the crates. It was mostly empty, save for a handful of small items that looked like tiny pyramids, each no bigger than a quarter. There were strange sigils scrawled on each side, which glowed blue as Bridget ran her fingers over the facets of one of the objects. <<Hmm.>> Val said, as Bridget turned the thing over in her fingers. <<I would have expected them to go with fangs rather than pyramids, but I suppose they wanted the veneer of mysticism.>> What do you mean? What are these things? <<Ion injectors. One of the research division's favorite products, a real classic. They alter the biology of the creature they're used on to make them more resilient to attack by Star Warden hard light projections. This has the secondary effect of making them much stronger and more physically resilient. Usually, though, the host body falls apart under the strain over time.>> Val sighed wistfully. << Echo was working on ways to make them safer; she always was soft, no matter how much she tried to hide it. She loved physical creatures, with all your strange material properties.>> I imagine you two got along well, then. <<You could say that, though I have no idea what you're implying, little miss.>> Val answered with mock seriousness. So, should we keep some of these injectors in case we have to fight a Star Warden? <<Not unless the prospect of a slow death where all your squishiest organs are crushed by the weight of your own bones sounds appealing. We have what we came for: confirmation that the Voidwalkers are in fact behind the Hellbloods. We should investigate this Hyams company, just in case it reveals anything else they're doing, or why they needed an up-jump band of thugs in the first place. Besides, the ring is the real prize.>> I guess? I don't see how an empty warehouse is much use, unless it's for hiding all the embarrassing things you make me use for training. <<Oh, it's not, but if, perhaps, you happened to have on call an expert on the manipulation of gravitic energies, you could change the pocket dimension and the physical location that ring is keyed to, so that it connected, say, to that spectacular genius's private laboratory from your bedroom closet.>> Nice! As much as Bridget wanted to tease Val About her incredible pomposity, that did sound pretty cool. <<And then someone could stop throwing hissy fits about potential embarrassment, assuming that being in an alternate dimension is far enough away from prying eyes to suit the princess's royal dignity.>> Bridget snorted, refusing to dignify Val's jibes with a response.

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.